"Fat to Fittie"

I’d been looking forward to today, Port Merrion was on the agenda, I didn’t know much about it, but felt it was somewhere I should go and is why I put it on my bucket list. Unfortunately the day didn’t start well though, you’ll remember I might have mentioned the steps down to my room, well as it was mid floor, there were another set of steps to the side, so each time I left my room I had the choice, go up ten to floor two, or down ten to floor one, this morning I chose down.

The banister rail on both stairs was far too low, unless you were 4ft 6, you’d struggle to hold it correctly, because of this I tended to lean against the wall with my right shoulder, have both sticks in my right hand and a coat in my left, I then slowly descended, using the sticks and wall to lean on. Unfortunately on this occasion I felt my shoulder sliding, as I began to lean forward, a face plant into the carpet seemed on the cards, unless I quickly took drastic action. I adjusted the sticks and tried to push myself backwards, whilst this stopped me falling face first, it caused me to fall backwards and slide down the stairs. Luckily I wasn’t hurt badly, just a bit of bruising on my back. A couple of ladies witnessed what happened and made sure I was okay, it wasn’t an ideal start to the day, but could have been much worse.

We got to Port Merrion at 11.30 and despite my crippled hips and now back, I managed to get around quite well. It was a very beautiful, yet strange place, with many alternative routes around that meant as long as I used my head, I was able to easily explore the Italian style village, built for some reason in the middle of Wales. My son had rung me on the way there and told me that I wouldn’t be able to make it to the hotel at the bottom, challenge accepted. When I did eventually get to the hotel, which sits beautifully at the side of the sea, many of the group were there as well, a welcome sight seeing them drinking alcohol, after that trek I was ready for one.

I went into the bar to find two guys standing behind it, took about 60 seconds before one of them asked what I wanted. There was a local lager on so I asked the percentage, he told me, then started speaking to his friend in Welsh, I noticed a local cider as well so asked him about it, He told me where it was brewed, then again, began talking to his mate in Welsh, I asked him the percentage, he replied, then before he could continue his stupid language conversation, I said, “I’ll have one of those please”. Didn’t stop him for long though, cos they were straight back at it talking so I couldn’t understand. It made me wonder why and what it was they were saying, was it something they didn’t want me to hear, were they slagging me off or were they like I suspected, just a pair of rude, Welsh tits. For the first time in my life, I said nothing when I paid for the drink, no thank you or anything similar, as I walked out I spoke very loudly to the people sat down about the rude tosspots behind the bar, absolutely no doubt they heard me and also that I was just about to go online and leave a google review.

I’d like to think they read it while I was there, though sadly they weren’t the only rude staff at the hotel. Chatting with the others in my group outside, I discovered that they had the very same experience, there’s no excuse, this is hospitality and whilst you might despise the origin of country the people you’re serving, it’s not polite or good business to be rude to them, sadly this seems to be my impression of Wales. It reminded me of a joke my dad used to tell, This English guy moved to Wales and he got fed up being ignored, so he decided to learn some Welsh. He saw a guy fixing his car and went up to him, “Yaki da” he said, the guy looks up, “piss off you Welsh tit”.

After dinner each night, I’ve sat in the bar, chatted with some of the group and wrote my blog, mostly because I’ve been too tired to go out, but tonight I decided to have a walk. I’d not really seen much of Llandudno and as it was in serious doubt I’d ever come back, this was my only chance. I’d heard they had a pier with amusements and things, just a stone’s throw from the hotel, so off I set, didn’t quite realise how long it actually was. I’m not the fastest of walkers and it took 30 minutes to reach the end, with the only thing keeping me going, the possibility of there being alcohol when I got there, can you begin to imagine my disappointment if there wasn’t. Thankfully that wasn’t the case and there was a lovely sea view bar, right at the end of the pier, though there has to be some bad news otherwise there’d be no point in me writing this, yes they were open, but closing in 30 mins, time for one then.

By the time I got back to the hotel I was far too knackered to go anywhere else, it’s been a fantastic few days, but the walking has taken it’s toll, along with the minor fall. Basil was the only one serving in the bar, this could be interesting, I did think he may have said something but no, never mentioned anything about my tumble or asked how I was. Would have been a nice gesture if he bought me a drink as an offering, but I have a feeling he’s tighter than the white jeans he wears, another reason I know he’s got no balls. It really does make me wonder why he would want to work in hospitality when he clearly isn’t very good at it, but then again, as far as Wales is concerned, he’s not on his own.