Wales by Motorhome

Caernarfon Castle.

Caernarfon is the most famous Castle in Wales, built by Edward the first
to encompass the Kingdom of Gwynedd.

Merlin the Magician prophesised that a descendant of Cadwallader, the last Welsh King to wear the crown of Britain, was a legendary King and a leader of the Celts. Myths and traditions say that he was King Arthur and that he would rise to power and begin the slaughter of foreigners.

Merlin was the illegitimate son of a monastic Royal Nun. His father was an Angel who had visited the Royal Nun. Merlin’s enemies claimed his father was really an incubus, an evil spirit that has intercourse with sleeping women. The evil child was supposed to provide a counterweight to the good influence of Jesus Christ on earth.

Merlin fortunately was baptized early in his life, an event said to have negated the evil in his nature.

The story may have been invented to save his mother, the Royal Nun, from the scandal which would have occurred had her liaison with Morfyn Frych the freckled Prince been made public.

A farmstead in Llyn Y Gabair.

Snowdon Moutain Railway.

The gallivanting Glaswegians were contemplating a trip up the mountain. Phemie and Jessie decided not to accompany their men on the little train to the top of Snowdon. Jessie had said;

‘Ye two tramps can go on yer wee choo-choo, me an’ Phemie will sit here an’ have a cream tea, isn’t that right, Phemie?’ asked Jessie.

‘Sure, Jessie, sure, Jessie,’ Phemie agreed. ‘Jessie, whit’s an incubus?’ she enquired.‘Och, Phemie, ye’re jist like yer wee man, Francie, ye’ve no’ got a clue. I’ll tell ye whit an incubus is, Phemie. Ye know sometimes when ye waken up in the morn an’ ye feel awfy sair an’ ye don’t know whit tae put it doon tae?’ asked Jessie.

‘Sure, Jessie, sure Jessie,’ said Phemie.

‘An’ then at the breakfast table, ye suddenly wallop Francie, for nae apparent reason,’ said Jessie.

‘Aye, Jessie, I’ve done that, Jessie,’ said Phemie.

‘Well, Phemie, the reason why ye hit the wee eejit, wis because he wis a wee incubus,’ said Jessie.

It was when the lads were sitting in the open-air carriage on their way back down the track that things turned black. They became eveloped in clouds of thick black smoke, soot and ash coming from the smoke-stack of the engine;

‘Och, well, Francie, this is a good opporchancity tae sample yon two cigars I’ve been savin’ for jist such an occasion. Will ye join me, Francie?’ Josie asked.

‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ Francie said.

The lads lit-up their cheroots and were puffing away merrily in tune with the smoke-stack. A little silver-haired lady suddenly reached up and pulled the emergency cord. The train came to a juddering halt and the conductor came rushing, huffing and puffing to the carriage;

‘Who pulled the cord?’ he asked.

‘It was me,’ said the little old lady. ‘Those two gentlemen are smoking,’ she said.

‘Smoking’s not allowed on my train,’ the conductor said to the lads.

‘But the bliddy driver’s smokin,’ said Josie.

‘Oh, and that’s another thing,’ he said. ‘The use of bad language is prohibited also, get off my train.’ he demanded.

The lads found themselves on the pathway alongside;

‘Och, here they come noo, Phemie, like a couple o’ bliddy miners hame frae the pit,’ said Jessie. ‘Let’s sip up oor gin an’ tonics an’ we’ll head back tae the Motorhome,’ she said.

‘Whit happened tae ye two eejits? Ye’re baith as black as soot,’ asked Phemie.

‘Och, we got chucked aff the wee choo-choo for smokin’,’ said Josie.

‘Och, magic, Josie, jist magic, Josie,’ said Jessie.

Mount Snowdon Visitor Centre.

Joe Sharp.

You may enjoy reading the adventures of Francie and Josie.

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