It’s a week short of 5 years to the day since we left the beautiful, peaceful village of Llangynog and the most wonderful house that was Tyddyn yr Helyg.

On our last night in Llangynog (6th September 2007) we had sleeping bags on the cottage floor and no food at all, so came to eat at the New Inn. Believe me not much has changed. After we ate we took the longest and slowest walk back to the cottage with heavy hearts, knowing that we had been at the most idyllic location possible.

Here we are 5 years later, a little older, a lot wiser and a lot more travelled, yet still we pine for that amazing view each morning (if you ignore the damp, the mice and the power cuts). Stopping a couple of nights in a local B&B and looking at properties in the area.

We ventured where few have dared and walked past our wonderful home for exactly one year, where we ate heartily, enjoyed the scenery, had BBQs, sat and watched the world go by, had Mr Spike in his element and enjoyed the life we all dream of some
day.

Who knows we may end up there again, crossed fingers.

I’ll have a harf

Lunch at the Kylemore Pass Hotel, before heading back to the folks with a lovelly cut of Sirloin, glazed chops and sausages, sounds distinctly like a BBQ to me.

Yum.

After a nice day out and a lovely meal we sat in the conservatory area watching the bad weather hammer the windows, playing scrabble and whooping Mrs Fogg, when into reception comes something worse than a loud American, yes you guessed it “Colonial Old Boy and his put upon wifey”. The happy couple had by all accounts driven hundreds of miles from a wedding, decided not to stop for food so they could get to the Dolphin B&B, unaware their restaurant is only selective days of the week and today ain’t selected.

Wherever they have come from they (or rather “he”) didn’t like “it was crap” and you just know his evening ain’t gonna get much better. Wifey continually apologising for her husbands bad manners and demeanour just wanted to get some biscuits or something to snack on and proceeded to eat more or less the entire pack of whatever they had, stopping to offer him the last one, well talk about moan, groan and whinge. Next was the fact they need to stop somewhere in Dublin on Thursday, without making any bookings in advance of travelling at a time when 50,000 Americans are about to descend on the town for an American football match. cue the helpful B&B owner, since not only did the happy couple not have any bookings, they had no idea where to stay or anyway to book anything either. As the helpful owner tried to find them accommodation and call ahead for them, all she got was “well I don’t want to stop there, there’s no parking”, “I don’t like that one it’s too close to the centre”, “that’s no good, the price is too high”. Personally I would have suggested he invest in a phone or learn how to use computers himself! Still the fun continued, as he whittered, moaned and groaned loudly with wifey asking him to quiet down. The straw and camel situation came when they found out there is no tea or coffee facilities in the room and the owner has gawn to bed. Dawp!

Lucky us, the happy couple are next door and currently investigating the patio door, by sliding it open and slamming it closed, over and over. Now this is what makes Britain great and the worrying thing is this guy is probably a “captain of industry”

Ah what more could you want for your Hobbit second breakfast, but mussels and chips. As you can see, she of the hairy toes is tucking in quite nicely in preparation for walking every crap, sorry craft shop in Clifden, before doing a full loop around Cleggen and Bally Kineelly (sounds too much like Billy Connelly to me).

We drove miles on some horrendous roads, but had fun, eventually stopping at Oliver’s in Cleggen for lobster. However on entering the pub cum restaurant it was like a scene from the ole wild west where the music stopped and everyone stopped talking. The place had more of a feel of the Wheel Tappers than the supposed fine dining listed on Trip Advisor, so we headed back to Clifden and the Mitchell’s restaurant where we started the day.

All told very nice, we even told the B&B owner about her mice problem to which she looked genuinely horrified, discount please,

Next stop, back to the folks for the last couple of nights before we go back see our Shangri-La of Llangynog.

Whilst the Dolphin Beach looks nice and is warm and friendly, when you scratch the surface you find the flaws and it is such a shame because the location and service are exceptional.

The room has massive sliding windows out to the beach, but you are given the impression that the lock has only recently failed, so “the father” has fashioned a wooden bar to stop the door being opened, as cobwebs sit on the bar. The super king size bed is actually two separate beds bolted together with a hole in the middle and a plastic cover on the mattress to make you sweat (last time I saw that was when I was 3!). Cobwebs adorn most “you wouldn’t dust there would you” type surfaces. The sheers are filthy and have never seen the inside of a washing machine, as is the same for the mingling shower screen. The piece de resistance is being woken at 4am by the mice playing football!

Nice location, but not one for the recommendations I’m afraid. You do sometimes wonder whether you have been spoilt by some top class places, but a relaxing B&B has to have a little more bang for the buck and we have stopped in some smaller places that excelled in all areas at a comparable if not cheaper rate (Gale River Motel in New England, Aspiring Lofts in New Zealand).

Still time to walk along the beach and enjoy the peace, before heading into Clifden for the day.

So after two restful days with the folks and BBQ’d dead things with plenty o beer, we headed on to Clifden which is about 2 hours drive on UK roads, but more like 3.5 behind Sunday drivers (on a Monday) and tractors full of tuff.

And tonight we are stopping at the Dolphin Beach B & B down one of the longest and steepest single track roads sans passing places! (aptly and eyes closed driven by Mrs Fogg).

The place is glorious with amazing views from the peninsular across the North Atlantic Ocean. A slow womble down to the sea before dinner at 7.30 in their very tiny and romantic restaurant and then a night in the Super King Size bed (gonna mess up that bad boy).

On the drive down Mrs Fogg did persuade me to stop at Kylemore Abbey and Victorian Gardens. Wow was that dull! a mini castle inhabited by Nuns (I was in pun heaven on the way down, since I was having nun of it, bum tisch) with a mausoleum that resembled a 1970s gents toilet block and a few flowers. Yes I know I’m a neanderthal, but if you’re gonna take me somewhere make it interesting (and somewhere with less French and American coach parties, where each one had disclosed to each other their name, position in their company and salary within a millisecond).

A few more days in Ireland then off for a trip down memory lane in Llangynog before heading down to see the Finks.

Oh what fun, the Holyhead Travelodge never was that nice, but when your greeting from the receptionist is “we would like to send you to another hotel 5 miles away which is much nicer than here” you gotta worry. No lights on the top floor due to water damage, collapsed beds and grot. Travelodge, scrummy!

But here we are with the Folks for BBQ, fun and food, before spending a few days exploring Ireland some more.

Tomorrow, well no Me Spike to wake us for breakfast, so for once I get to sleep in past 6am.