Camping

We spent August Bank Holiday back at the campsite in Pwllheli with a large crowd of nice people.  We had Kerry's nieces in tow as well as her Dad.  Her Dad was driven to an alcohol induced illness on the first night and recovered in the van the following day whilst we adventured about.

Over the weekend we took the train up Snowdon, a ticket for which we had to book the day before and cost £25 each!  You get 30 minutes at the summit then have to catch the same train down promptly.  When we returned to the train after our brief visit to the summit there was a middle aged couple sat in our carriage.  "Ooo, are you travelling down in this carriage?", I asked meekly.  "Yes, we're drenched wet through and my husband has chest pains", the woman answered.  This confirmed to me that they were part of the huge crowd of people who dared to climb Snowdon by foot that day, totally unprepared and unfit, and most concerning, without a train ticket.  "I don't care if you've had a tit bitten off and your husband has severed a testicle, you're not going down on this train love!", I quietly thought to myself but actually said, "Ooo, I think you'll need to get a ticket".  "We'll see about this", she said and stormed off the train to talk to the ticket master.  She returned 1 minute later and fingered her husband to get off the train.

We then went down to the beach at Pwlheli and the young girls threw rocks at the sea because it was evil.

"Ascending Snowdon"

"No Dogs?"

"Shnai Drenched by the Evil Sea"