Wales is wet, very wet

OK, so I've just returned from a week in the countryside of South Wales. And never before have I experienced such hideous rain. Day one offered promise. The sun was shining proudly over the buildings (well, shacks) of Ty Gwyn Farm as we pulled up the drive towards the place that we were to call home for the next seven days. Little did we know that this was the last time we would see such weather for several days. Waking up on the morning of day two, we were greeted with thick fog swirling round the tops of the farm buildings and seemingly wrapping us up into a chilling blanket of damp that we were to become entangled in for the majority of the remainder of the week. Cardiff offered us reasonably warm weather and incredible views however at around 70 minutes away from where we were staying, we were forced to spend five days craving sun but being given awful rain instead. The local news didn't change for the entire week and, typically, there were only about 10 houses in the entire village, two of which belonged to the owners of Ty Gwyn. It was that hideous, that a worm came into our (stupidly placed downstairs) bathroom looking for a bit of warmth and shelter from the storm exploding outside. We saw where Roald Dahl was Christened; survived a vicious Dalek attack; ate pizza 5 out of 7 times and killed more spiders and beetles than any of us have ever seen prior to this 'holiday'. We explored a cave in which some (very bizarre, and brave!) people have married; encountered actual dinosaurs; ate stupid amounts of Haribo and settled into the routine of going to bed at midnight, and being woken at 7am when the heating kicked in. We fell in love with Bonnie, the farm dog; we entertained ourselves by discussing holidays we will have in compensation for this one and we laughed hysterically at Sarah Millican's 'bum towel' joke on BBC Radio 2 at 10pm. We achieved nothing this holiday, but in doing nothing, we achieved everything.

Rachel (Webmistress)