Hell in Wales and Sixteen

At School before our trip

Denise

Lynda

So this small part of my life remains deeply imbedded in my memory, so much so I have never visited Wales again with the exception of picking up a tiny Sheltie puppy from the back of a car on the other side of the Seven Bridge.

I don’t know which parent organised it but I would say with absolute guarantee that it wasn’t my mother whose organisations skills don’t run to this.  It was decided that going on an adventure holiday for a week in the summer would be a good experience for four girls, one being a kind of friend at the time, Denise Gosheron, a good friend at the time, Lynda Fulton and my younger sister, Linda. An organisation I think fairly new on the scene at the time called PGL. 

I think it was Denise’s father that took us to Wales on a lovely sunny day where we were to spend a week in a tent beside Lake Llangorse.  I remember being bemused by the sudden language change as we crossed the border and indeed the sudden alphabet change, suddenly all my suspicions on grammar rules came to fruition.  My English teachers had been lying all along; either that or I am actually Welsh.  Being dyslexic it was nice to note that a whole section of the United Kingdom suffered under the same fate. 

A cheery wave from the delivery dad and of he sped in his flash Jaguar as if being chased by flesh eating zombies.  Only years later did I realise why parents left their kids with such gusto if an opportunity arose for other adults to look after them.  We were frog marched to our tent/wigwam which had a concrete floor and was obviously there on a permanent basis.  My question in my head was ‘they have already got foundations, why not go the whole hog and put a small house on top’, much more comfy’.  As I look around our tent I did wonder how much fun this would be.  I know I love the outdoors but I was and still am not the ‘sleep wherever I lay my head’ sort of person.  Even at this age I liked my comforts.  I’m probably more able to cope with discomfort now than I was then oddly.

The only time I put this stupid hat on

Yep we were all looking good.... 

We were given our itinerary for the week; Monday was sailing in the morning and pony trekking in the afternoon, Tuesday canoeing then sailing, Wednesday pony trekking and the caving/pot holing.  And so it went on till pick up on Saturday.

It dawned on me how much water was involved in these activities…now you must understand my talent in any water sport is very limited.  Firstly, I was nearly 10 before I learnt to swim and by swim I mean doggy paddle, by 16 I could do the breaststroke and I could dive but very badly.  I have a healthy respect for water in the manner of fear.  It only takes a small problem to make me completely hysterical if in water and anyone trying to help gets used as a human ladder by me.  I don’t think my children will ever forget our trip to Disney Land and the ‘swim with the sharks’ section.  Basically a small man made pond with baby sharks and beautiful coral to view while snorkelling in wet suits.  It started well till some water went in my snorkel at the same time I spotted the baby shark, which I felt, wasn’t much of a baby.  Panic ensued with me standing on the coral and ripping my snorkel of and crying.  Disney helpers swam over to guide me back to the side but I wasn’t having any of it and it all got a bit ugly, even my then 6yr old son tried to calm me down but with the flailing arms of his mother looming he decided to carry on with his pleasant swim.

Anyway, I digress….

Around 5pm on the first day it began to drizzle with rain and this was the ongoing theme for the whole week but at the time we didn’t know Wales. 

Day one, after the initial joy of finding ourselves without parents we teetered about looking around our new home, tent cold, tent not very comfy, tent wet, tent messy within a few hours.  Linda and I shared one and Denise and Lynda shared another.  Visited main complex, was given outfits, outfits not becoming but better than my grandmothers hat that for some reason I found packed in my bag, Grandmother obviously concerned about my head staying warm.  I wore it once and a picture was taken.  We were all taken to the lake and told to get in a little sailing boat along with half a dozen other kids.  It began to rain more heavily.  I learnt absolutely nothing about sailing; think I might have had one go at steering the tiller in all the time I was there.  If there was any instruction I hadn’t been listening.  I felt sick almost from the moment I stepped on the boat, the others? Probably my sister Linda learnt something because she just learns stuff. 

I am clearly over the moon with the chance to do some sailing in the rain..

and so are they..

Afternoon, yeh! Pony trekking.  All us had our own ponies and you can see in the 70’s we were not safety conscious, hats were around but not deemed important even if you had never ridden a horse before.  It continued to rain.  Now spending money to send us pony trekking was a bit like taking coals to Newcastle, with the exception of Lynda we were all in the Pony club and in fact all in the county team.  We all quickly got a bit bored and began attempting dressage on these poor trekking ponies, then a bit of hanging back so we could get in a canter to catch up, then we began looking for little bushes to see if we could get some jumping in. Trekking leader hadn’t had our intensive training and soon gave up trying to manage us.  Scenery amazing, plodding along very boring.  I will say that by the end of the week the ponies were responding to the way we rode them and were quite bouncy by the end of the week.  

Look no hats!

Well Linda looks happy at least, it didn't rain for 30 mins!

Nice views

Linda doing her girth up in an unconventional manner

Day two, cannoning. Hideous!  First we had individual kayaks and once in our teachers attempted to teach us how to roll.  I sat there arms crossed staring at the teacher who I might add could only have been about 22yrs old and clearly a student earning some summer pin money.  I absolutely refused to even attempt to roll my kayak because I didn’t want to DROWN as I pointed out to him.  Much reassurance went on but he was on the land and I was in my little plastic spoon wobbling precariously glaring at him.  I was told it would be better if I learnt to roll but as I had no intention of getting wet and would rather die in an accident than deliberately he gave up.  Lynda was very good at rolling her canoe, unfortunately it wasn’t deliberate. She just couldn’t stay upright and every time she began to fall she would shriek then down she would go.  Missing for seconds under the canoe then cam up spluttering.  In fact most of the lesson was spent staring at Lynda doing lots and lots of 360 degree turns.  I found it very funny till she began to move nearer to me; she threatened to grab my spoon for support, terror set in.  My dia threats didn’t hold her of for long and I suddenly found out how to use the paddle.  I got behind Denise and watched Lynda take her down. 

Afternoon sailing in the rain – hell.

Day three, we get chatting to a neighbour in the tent near us.  Can’t remember her name but she was 18yrs old and although friendly clearly had other intentions regarding her holiday as a single young lady and I say lady but not in the conventional way.  We being 16 thought all activities had to be attended and despite loathing ¾ of them we attended.  She being 18 had intentions of more than one of the ‘trainers’ all being men in their early 20’s.  We hadn’t noticed her before for one very good reason, that and the fact that one teacher (whatever they were) had been missing.  He had been gone for 2 days, well when I say gone…the pair of them had not come out of her tent for two days, no food no drink and I’m not sure they had even bothered to go to the washing facilities.  We thought the tent was empty.  We found this very amusing and I being very innocent did wonder what they could be doing in all this time.  I didn’t actually realise that sex could be repeated on a continuous loop. When she came out and we got talking I did ask her if this lad was her boyfriend and she laughed and said, “No, my boyfriend is at home where I live”.  I was horrified; evil people only did infidelity surely?  This was the first time I realised that I didn’t have to stick to the rules set out by my upbringing and that if I didn’t I would not be struck down by lightening.  She cam pony trekking with us one afternoon, a quiet girl with a dry sense of humour.  I went of her when a new lad moved in for a couple of days because I thought she was being unsociable and besides…she was stealing all the good-looking teachers.  In fact she was being far too sociable.   

The sex fiend

That afternoon a select group including us were told we were going pot holing and I was over the moon.  No water sports hurrah!  Two of the fittest blokes ever took us to a cave and we were all geared up with lights on our safety hats and we had become miners! At first it was fascinating, climbing over rocks, squeezing through tight gaps and we all followed blindly.  We climbed up crevasses and rested on a ledge so the lads could get out their tins of tobacco and have smoke.  We chatted for some time then one lad said we had to go, as he was worried about the water level because he knew this cave filled up at high tide. We looked down and sure enough the floor was now knee deep in water.  Slight panic ensued in our guides “Everyone down NOW, we have to get out”.  The water quickly became quite deep and I began to clutch at the wall in an attempt not to get too wet but that didn’t work.  I really began to moan when it was up to my chest, it was icy water.  The lad with the tin of tobacco was determined to save this and eventually all we could see of him was an arm holding up his tin.  By the end we were neck deep and wading and going just about as fast as we can.  We all climbed out sodden and freezing with teeth chattering we got into the jeep and back to camp.  The weird thing was that at no point do I remember feeling scared and for someone who is a tad claustrophobic is odd.  But anything was better than being on that lake.

Day four, a trip around the lake in a kayak.  This did not go well.  I found I could only canoe in the direction of the tide, well not exactly a tide but the way the water was flowing.  Fine on the way out then we turned to come back.  I got stuck in a kind of whirlpool under some trees over hanging.  I got shouted at once the girl taking us realised that cajoling wasn’t going to work.  I was prepared to spend the rest of my life under that tree in that Kayak, I could see no way out.  Everyone else got passed but not me.  I began to cry and moan.  I was there for 20mins.  We got a new teacher in the afternoon. 

Afternoon, two man canoes. Quickly I bagged going with my sister Linda.  There was no way I was going to pair up with my friend Lynda, she rolled. Linda and I watched Denise being thrust under on a regular basis and I told Linda her life would not be worth living if this happened to us, we gingerly proceeded along the lake, her scared of me and me scared of the water.  A wonderful day all round.

Day five, more sailing and pony trekking and the music in the main complex.  Sailing by Rod Stewart playing all week.  Can’t help thinking of this holiday whenever I hear this song and a shiver goes up my spine.

The other thing that sticks in my mind is the extreme unfriendliness of the Welsh people who when visiting a shop and before us talking would be conversing in English, as soon as they realised we were English would revert to speaking Welsh and broken English.  I would like to think that doesn't happen so much now.  

Escaped to go to the local  shop

Did not meet any nice boys as considered two young, too innocent and slapper in the tent next door was a far better prospect.