Thursday, 24 April 2014

Adventuring in Wales: "A mania of teadrinking and hairwashing"










"I tried the soft stuff on holiday in Wales,
a mania of teadrinking and hairwashing,
excitable soap which never rinsed away"
                                                               -Hard Water, Jean Sprackland
Upon gallivanting around Wales with an incredibly flawed welsh accent, I discovered a profound lack of Internet. If my long-term-frenemy GPRS wasn't around to satisfy my needs for a procrastinating hour or two delving into the deep and dark mysterious depths of social media, I was left faced with a rather harsh 'No Service' message. Brilliant. It was all rather ironic in all fairness; the rarity of finding a beautiful place to share photos of or a hilarious holiday-anitcs 160 character story to share aaaannnddd my supposedly wonderful "4 times better than usual internet" EE fails me. Not so clever now, are we (feeling rather miranda-esque) now, Kevin Bacon, eh? 
Despite my new found hate for Kevin bacon and his untrustworthy claims, my thumbs did appreciate a well deserved rest from scrolling, typing and swiping. My absence from the Internet side of life did, however, enable me to stop viewing life through the mindset of what to share next but allowed me to fully immerse myself in activities and some good old traditional family time, without sidetracked thoughts of twitter chats and the like. In spite of this, to say that I didn't spend the entire week viewing Wales through a camera lens would be a little lie.
The week away amidst the vast countryside resulted in multiple spontaneous "Don't worry, if we get lost we have a sat nav!!" kind of drives through dainty country lanes that inevitably led us up precarious mountain lanes with the region of half a foot either side of the car, in turn giving way to a 200 foot drop. I spent a region of 30% of the week hunting down local cafè's and independent fish and chip shops rather than the few Subways and Costa's I saw. Whilst I could say with an element of truth that this was to aid the local economy, or to experience the true taste of honest Welsh grub, in all honesty I was drawn to the pastel coloured walls, bunting in the window and an abundance of retro blackboards detailing that days welsh specials. 
I also managed to take some awkward outfit of the day photos for the first since August whereby I made my debut fashion post (read: very very bad outfit post). I also spent multiple evenings frolicking around a sunset-ridden beach with my younger brother in the absent minded hope of finding some beach-combing treasures, and early on a Monday morning I groggily I grabbed a pair of not so OOTD-worthy hiking shoes and set foot up Mount Snowdon. All three of these adventures were accompanied by camera in hand and thus a copious amount of similar posts are to be expected.
A further exciting venture was taking a trip into the local Slate Mines, whereby we spotted a group of tetchy looking individuals with various cases of odd looking equipment. After a sneaky bit of James Bond-alike work, we discovered that the group were in fact part of a ghost hunter team who were investigating the mines for 'activity'. Always dubious when it comes to unexplained occurrences (I'm not religious) I armed myself up with my camera and set off into the mines, wary I wasn't last in the group.However, upon experiencing no odd feelings or unexplained situations I hopped back into the car with a slightly self mocking attitude. It was only to the mercy of my younger brother and sister who upon stalking the days' 200+ photographs pointed out an abundance of orb like shapes and 'underground clouds', along with a suspicious shadow or two. After an in depth examination by the whole family we concluded that the orbs were scarily circular, and all too predominant in a few images, with one orb essentially having a blue and pink aura. The 'underground clouds' were made up of hundreds of individual orbs, some amounting to a scary face image and one particularly haunting shadow looked all too like a man with a ladder, pitchfork and devil horns. 
Fast forward a day (read: I don't want you reading about the night I spent watching trash TV on a sofa eating too many hot cross buns and cookies in replace of the revision night I had planned) and prior to heading to 'Betwsy-Coed' we stopped off again at the mines to pick up a House Number engraved slate tile (which was scarily reminiscent of the film Groundhog Day) and discovered the ghost hunters 'chilling' in the room next door. Prepared for them to laugh at us and tell us that they're reflecting dots of light and we've simply got out knickers in a twist, we were all too surprised when they called all of their friends from all over the mines to come and inspect the photos!They had slept the precious night in the mines and had heard voices, tools dropping and a mine cart being dragged along the floor even though they were the sole individuals down there. Apparently my images were actually of some 'ghostology' worth and they were particularly intrigued by the cloud of orbs and devil shadow!
All in all, this ambiguous encounter with the 'other side' has left me perplexed to some extent. I've been questioning myself these last few days and the self formed mind-boundaries between normal and abnormality have somehow blurred a little. It's made me question my own mortality and the insignificance of everything-if miners from the beginning of the 17th century are still haunting us; what else is there walking upon our self claimed land? post signature

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