I’m off to visit some famous walls tomorrow*, and not Chester either, but I reckon Conwy has the best of the wall walks.
And I somehow persuaded Mrs RM to walk them, with the promise it was the quickest way back to the campervan.
Just shy of the walls, we note a weird row of houses on Morfa Drive, each of them with a different take on a uniform paint scheme. These are the sort of things that appeal to us.
The walls themselves seem rather less “fussy” than their English rivals. Less signage saying “Be ye careful”, less railings, more uneven cobbles.
And what views !
Not only the sea and castle, but practically into every bedroom and courtyard. A voyeur’s dream.
Now, regular readers will know all about how fast Mrs RM is, and she set off at a rapid pace, either because she needed the loo or a pint in the Albion.
Oh look, there she is.
I thought I’d caught up with her, the little scamp, but I kept having to stop to allow gentlefolk to pass without falling off. I wish they wouldn’t say “Excuse me“, the two worst words in the English language after “Liverpool lead“.
And then I lost her.
I’d have heard her fall, surely ? Was she hiding in the ********* Den ?
Nope. I reached the end of the ramparts at the station and was back in the car park at 12:00.
11 (eleven) minutes later, a text saying she couldn’t find me. I sent her a little map, showing the location of the car (blue dot, pink dot still under development).
Ten (10) minutes pass. Nothing. Our parking ticket is about to expire. Perhaps she’s in an alternative universe like that German series “Dark” because surely it is IMPOSSIBLE to get lost in Conwy.
I’ll leave you on that cliff-hanger, and work out how it became MY fault.