Monday, 8 August 2016
A nice day out
Now I don't know about you ... why should I ... I hardly know you. Anyway, as I was saying ... I don't know about you, but my idea of a nice day out is staying in the back garden with a crate of cool cans or bottles of Guinness.
And indeed there was such a pub, but there also was a lot of walking. As soon as we parked the car everyone wanted to go there, and then there, and over there, not missing out also over there. What is the point of going for a nice day out if we're going to walk miles and miles seeing all sorts of boring things which we could have seen in a book at home in the comfort of one's garden with a bottle or two of Guinness?
We saw an arts exhibition, we saw a craft fare where people did all sorts of "interesting" things like glass engraving, metal jewellery, wooden sculptures and tapestries. Then it was decided, not by me, to have a nice walk by the canal to see the boats.
Then there was a sign post saying: "Ancient forge only 5 minutes walk. Just by entrance of the caves"
Why is it that people who advertise their wares or their trades are such a bunch of liars? After walking at least a million miles, and having worn out at least three pairs of shoes, we arrived at this long awaited forge of disappointment. All it was is a small warehouse where a man made things out of metal. Things like metal gates ... can you imagine me buying a metal gate from him and carry it all the way back to the car? Things like metal ornaments for the garden, or statuettes for the home, or anything else you could think of made of metal except a bottle of cold Guinness.
Anyway, having finished with the forge, (does that word derive from forgery, I wonder), they wanted to visit the cave. And NO ... I could not sit there and wait for them. I had to go too.
The cave was also damp and slippery. And I also don't like dampness. So much so that I now sit in the bath and vacuum clean myself.
We were guided by this tour guide fellow explaining all about this cave. He had a dull monotonous slow talking voice. My heart was all a flutter with boredom. He gave us brochures describing all there is to know about this particular cave. I couldn’t help but wonder why not give us the brochures and we could read all about it instead of entering this dark and damp adventure to nowhere.The guide started talking as soon as I lost interest in what he was saying. All I could think of is being in the comfort of back home.
Not so for the other visitors to the cave. They just had to ask inane questions to make themselves sound interesting and knowledgeable.
"What stone is the cave made of?" asked one.
"Who cares?" I thought.
"It is made of granite," said the guide, "this is all granite!"
"How long have these stones been here?" asked another visiting idiot prolonging this never-ending tour.
"He's probably brought these stones here last week," I whispered and was rewarded with a sharp elbow in my ribs.
The guide explained that the granite stones had been here for two million years. So I asked him whether he adds extra days and weeks if he is asked the same question tomorrow, the day after, or in a week's or a month's time. Surely their age increases every day. It's not always two million years. One or two visitors giggled at my comment.
I now had to appear serious and I asked a serious question. I asked him why are all the stones different sizes.
Aha ... I got him. He had no answer to that. He said stones are always different shapes and sizes. Not a clever response, do you think? He continued sheepishly, and boringly touring us round this cave for at least another half-hour.
Eventually we were out ... fresh air ... and a long million miles walk back to the car and a long drive home.
Good fun was had by everyone ... except me!