Well, actually I drove "to Wales," but it's kind of like the same thing.
This past weekend, we drove out the coast of North Wales to Conwy Castle, an 800 year old pile of stones that Ella is now convinced was built as a giant playground for her exlusive pleasure. The town and castle are a real treat to visit - nearly the entire town walls survive, and the castle is remarkably intact, perched over the estuary. Very cool. Definitely on the list of places to take people who come visit us.
Click below lead to the full set of the day's pictures.
The only disappointment on the trip was our detour to visit "The Tweedmill." It sounded so promising - I've been jonesing for one of those flat, tweed caps old British guys wear while either carrying their shotgun through the countryside or taking long, contemplative sips of their pints at the local. I'm not sure why. I think it will give me street cred or something. After driving 20 minutes out of the way down some little Welsh lanes, we found 'The Tweedmill' - a modern warehouse cum factory outlet mall selling Yankee Candles and navy track suits with silk-screened wolves on them at discount prioces. No tweed in site. Plenty of old British guys though. Mostly carrying someone else's bags, wishing they were taking long, contemplative sips of their pints at their local.