THE WALK

 
Sitting outside our caravan after breakfast one morning enjoying the brilliant sunshine, my wife and I were wondering what to do for the day when suddenly our minds were made up for us. We had sited our van for the season at Llandow Touring Caravan Park  between Cowbridge and Llantwit Major in South Wales,  just as my daughter and son in law, along with two teenage sons had done with theirs. The boys’ Mam and Dad hadn’t moved far from their van since we arrived a week ago, running the cleaner around, washing their van, cleaning windows, cutting the grass, it was just like being at home.
The two grandsons, Ryan and Liam must have been bored stiff.
“Will you take us for a walk Bamp”  they both said in a pleading voice, almost in unison. “I’ll take you as long as you can coax your mam and dad to come along too, we’ll all go as a family outing, and bring your dog Pepi”.
“How far are we going”. “How long will we be”. Suchlike could be heard coming from their caravan and awning until they finally gave in and agreed to get ready, albeit unenthusiastically, but within half an hour we were off.
We turned left at the camp gates then right towards the bridge that ran over the recently re-opened Bridgend/Barry railway line.
The youngest grandson at thirteen, hung back with his nan, mam and dad, and Pepi the dog on a lead. I noticed when we left the van that he was wearing his wellies despite it being a hot sunny day. His mam said there was no way she could change his mind so wear them he did.
The eldest at fifteen, strode out in front with me, five yards ahead of the others. “Where are we going Bamp”, he asked.
“I thought we could go and see the lighthouse at Nash Point, but  don’t say anything to the others because they won’t want to walk that far“. “They will only start moaning and want to turn back”.
His face broke into a wide grin as we now shared this secret from the others. “We are going to walk their feet off”, he said with a grin even bigger than the last one.
His chest puffed out and his pace picked up until we were twenty yards in front with everyone yelling on us to “slow down, it’s not a race“. We kept stopping occasionally to allow them to catch up until we reached the main road from Llantwit Major to Wick and beyond.
We went straight across at this point heading toward Marcross or Monknash I’m not sure which, it could have been either, or both.

Right on the junction was a large conker tree and the ground below was covered with them. The eldest grandson picked a few up putting them in his pocket and we carried on walking. The youngest had done the same five yards behind us and tossed one in the air shouting “Catch this one Bamp”. I was oblivious to what he had said until it struck me on the back of my head. He kept on saying “sorry Bamp” while his mam and dad were chastising him for throwing things, pointing out the dangers etc. I looked back to say I was ok and couldn’t help but notice the suppressed grin on his face as he must have thought what a good shot he had had.

We arrived at a farm and the dogs started barking as we approached. Our own dog Pepi made more noise than any of them. He’s a small Scottie who thinks he’s a bull mastiff and I was glad when we were well passed and out of sight of the farm. I wasn’t looking forward to coming back this way and would avoid it if I could.
At this point we could all see the lighthouse in the far distance across the fields of freshly cut hay that had been rolled into black plastic bags, awaiting collection to be stored away for winter feed.
The others were pointing to it excitedly saying “oh look there’s the lighthouse over there………The older boy and I never said a word.
We walked for quite a while longer, but the lighthouse never seemed to be getting any nearer. It was like some optical illusion. We soon had to chose which way to go. Take a left down a T junction or carry on straight. The turn left was favourite as it was towards the sea ( where the lighthouse should be ) so left it was.
After walking for a while we came to a house where an elderly gent was working in the garden. We stopped to ask him the way as the others had worked out by now, that was where we were heading.
“You can’t get there from here, you should have gone straight on at the junction. Go back to there and follow that road and you’ll come to it”. So back we went, to the junction and turned left.
We carried on for a while with the sea and the lighthouse to our left, still not looking any nearer. I think we may have passed a country pub before arriving at a crossroads with a sign that read.

>>>>THIS WAY TO THE LIGHTHOUSE  >>>>

At last we thought we were getting somewhere. It was a relief to us all in more ways than one when we finally arrived there. The toilets outside the café were more than a welcome sight especially for the women. They dashed in to relieve themselves while we ordered tea and home made welsh-cakes for everyone. With a dozen more in Nan’s handbag for when we got home, we were off again.
The lighthouse was only a few hundred yards away from the café, and when we got there, out came the cameras for the obligatory photographs. Mam and Dad with dog, the Grandsons with dog, Nan and Bamp with dog,  and all with the lighthouse in the background of course. We’d been out for over three hours by now and thinking it was probably the shortest route back, Mam and Nan decided that we should take the coastal path to the Atlantic College and rejoin the road back to camp, so that was the way we headed back.
The older boy and I still out in front couldn’t help smiling at all the moans coming from behind. Dad was complaining about carrying the dog who was refusing to walk any further and Liam kept on about his wellies hurting him as they had chaffed all inside his legs. The path was bad to walk along as in places it was quite close to the cliff edge with nettles and brambles protruding out here and there.
Mam and Nan were keeping their moans to themselves as it was their suggestion we came this way, but it only lasted until the heel broke on one of Nan’s shoes.
They were trying to make the best of it as we clambered down the craggy path that led to the foreshore of the Atlantic College. We had to cut up through the grounds to the main gate and the roadway, and  never saw a single soul on the way. We even stopped to take a few photographs.  When we got to the road, Mam and Nan wanted to phone for a taxi and the younger boy, still complaining about his wellies, agreed. Dad, the older boy, and I wanted to press on as we would need two taxis for the six of us. We ignored the dog voting with the other three and started out again.
The older boy and I were a hundred yards in front again by the time we reached the farm where the dogs did all the barking almost four and a half hours ago, so we sat and rested to let the others catch up. As they approached the dogs started barking again, but Pepi never uttered a sound. I don’t know why. He was back on the lead again as Dad refused to carry him any longer. Once they were within a few yards of us we set out again, not wanting to hear any more moans from anyone. They had been out of cigarettes for a while so the only one having a drag now was the dog.
When we reached the conker tree at the crossroads we waited again for them to catch up. Crossing over the main road from Llantwit to  Wick as they approached, we were off again on our way back to the campsite.

We soon passed the old post office building and the bridge over the Barry/Bridgend railway line and ten minutes later, we entered the camp gates. It was getting on for four o’clock and we had left the camp just after ten. We got to the van and I put the kettle on for tea on the others arrival. They came in a long thin line. First was Dad still dragging the dog, followed by Mam who had left Nan in the camp toilets. The youngest grandson followed next with shoulders down and chin on his chest. Then the last one. Nan, now carrying her broken shoes as she walked across the grass towards the caravan.

When they got to the van their teas were already poured out and as soon as we were all inside, we all burst out laughing uncontrollably.
That is except Nan. She strolled over to the bin, threw her shoes in. “I don’t know why I carried those shoes back with me, and you will not be laughing tomorrow when you’ll have to buy me a new pair” she said, giving me a look that only a wife can give to her husband. “And the next time you ask me to come for a walk with you, remind me to tell you to BUGGER OFF”.


Ah yes, I remember it well.  All true, except for Nan's deletive expletive. I think it may have been a little stronger.(and  some.)