This summer I decided to visit my dad. I had not seen him in the three years since the death of my mother. Sorry - you probably expected a humorous tale. I’ll try. I’d been letting work get in the way. I’d either been working, looking for work or afraid of losing my job if I came to see him. Largely I’d been afraid of the same thing earlier after I’d visited my parents a few years before that. So this time I decided I was going to go.
Well, I got to Britain. On the way I left probably 7 hours before I needed to but with it being Independence Day, who know what others would have been up to that might have caused delays.
Anyway - I drove through around 100 miles of thunder, lightning and heavy rain. When I got to Charlotte, both the long-term parking bays were closed so I had to go in a more expensive daily bay.
I got into the airport with no problems though despite wearing only light clothes, security still wanted to pat me down! Odd because I was wearing comfy clothes with no metal in them.
I like the fact I can leave a lot of my stuff - electronics and liquids etc in my bag. They had a big sign up about no separate lithium batteries. I carried a small one through for my camera with no issues. I think they’re after the big batteries though.
Charlotte airport was very dim and gloomy with most of the lights in the part of the terminal I was using, not working. The charging ports for tablets etc were mostly not working either. Food was ludicrously expensive at $10 a sandwich and $5 for a little bottle of tea that would have cost 75c elsewhere. Talking with the staff there, the retail staff were only paid minimum wage. Two cleaners I spoke to were quite unhappy. I guess Charlotte airport is not a great employer.
As far as TSA is concerned, I had no issues other than a seemingly gratuitous pat down. Even they didn’t seem too happy though. There’s just an air of unhappiness among the staff there and I don’t know why.
When I checked in, I used an electronic terminal. That was pretty easy. They tried to mug me for an extra $36 in order to board first. I saw no point in that since we were all going to be taking off at the same time in the same plane. I did however switch from a window seat to an aisle seat though I need not have. There was plenty leg room on the A330 that turned up. Actually, it was one of those wide body planes with two aisles.
I have to say that though I did doze a little I had a pretty miserable night. The food on the plane was a redeeming feature - it was actually quite good. They were a bit surprised when I preferred to drink just plain water than any of the fancy beverages. On the other hand when I arrived I’m pretty sure I was not as dehydrated as many of the other passengers would have been.
One of the surprising things - this was a British Airways flight operated by American Airlines - was that the stewards and stewardesses were not all the slender-waisted young things I normally see. There were older staff on this flight and some not-so-petit. It was also nice to see a good mix of races.
Arriving in Heathrow I had to walk seemingly miles of corridor. Then I arrived at something called an e-desk. There, I had to place my passport on a scanner, look at a camera and that was it. That’s not security, surely! Anyway, I got through there and just walked straight past customs. The customs people looked rather bored and idle. Mind, who is going to declare anything? People smuggling will just walk straight past. Only the truly anal will declare and pay taxes.
Walking out of Heathrow, I found a mass of stores and throngs of people. The first thing I did was to get a SIM card for my universal mobile phone - the one I spent $15 for on ebay about 5 years ago. Then I sat down and made a few calls to friends.
One of my friends is now not using Facebook. She is very upset by the nastiness between pro and anti-Brexit people. She has friends on both sides and the ruthless antagonism of the two sides just gets to her.
I found my way down to the underground. There I had another surprise. All the staff-manned kiosks had been replaced by machines. There were still staff there and they were very helpful. So I got my ticket to Swansea. Oddly enough I found that a single ticket was £55 while a return ticket was £124. Now how is that extra £14 justified? I’m baffled!
The underground whisked me to Paddington station where I found I had 40 minutes to wait for the train. There, I noticed a big difference between Britain and America. Aside from the accents, people’s attire is quite different. The men were more sloppily dressed. The women were more wearing skirts than pants. Even those dressed tidy wore clothes that looked like they’d been rode hard and hung up wet.
The train to Swansea arrived and there was another shock - it was an electric train. I’m so used to those great big screaming diesel trains. It was so blissfully quiet! It had only taken them 50 years to complete the transition. Back in the 60s when they went from steam to diesel, the diesel was only going to be a stopgap while they electrified. That stopgap lasted 50 years!
The journey from Paddington was quiet. I had a very pleasant lady to chat with and got all the way to Swansea very happily. The carriages were new like the trains with LED displays over seats to indicate which had been reserved and LED displays at the end of the carriage indicating the next stop. I don’t think I paid too much attention to that but then since Swansea is a rail head, I was in no danger of passing my stop - unless the train went through the buffers and kept rolling through the station buildings, the Grand Hotel and all the way down High Street until it ended up in the marina!
So then I walked to the bus station - not a long distance - about a 20 minute stroll. On the way I stopped at the bank to get some cash and the bank cashpoint ate my card. I’ll have to have a word with them on Monday.
So, I walked further and go to the bus station. The bus was there about 20 minutes ahead of when it was supposed to be and left 10 minutes ahead of when it was supposed to. Interestingly, the wifi on the bus wasn’t working nor was the electronic payment system. Thank the Lord I had two crisp £5 notes from 2016 on me. I noted also that the bus had an automatic gearbox. That really surprised me as Britain has always been more in favor of manual gearboxes.
So I got home on the bus and got to see my dad. He looks older.
Well, I got off the bus and walked to the Uplands. That was quite a haul up a very steep street. It turned out that he’d passed away 4 year prior and his son was now running the shop but had focused it even more on photographic services than before. His dad was right in focusing more on services than on retail as he had correctly predicted the way retail would collapse. At that time there were 4 other camera shops in town. Now just one survives in addition to this photographic services store.
So I intended to go to Oystermouth to photograph the castle. That meant trekking down to Oystermouth road to catch the bus. So, I trekked through Brynmill gardens and into Singleton Park. I noticed the sign for the botanical gardens but while it mildly interested me, the fact the whole park has masses of fencing installed presumably for some kind of paid-admission concert and seeing as I didn’t feel like walking around it all, I headed toward Oystermouth road and the bus stop.
Getting to Oystermouth Road I saw the beach and decided some photos were in order. That is when I changed direction and decided to walk along the seafront toward the marina with the intention of heading back and going to Oystermouth on the bus. So, I wandered along, taking photos along the way.
After about 2 miles I became aware that my feet were quite sore but I pressed on. The old observatory on the seafront seems to have been transformed into some kind of nightclub. It always was an odd place for an observatory!
Then I noticed a ship coming in to the docks. In fact there were three, one lined behind the other. I rushed toward the open dock so that I could take close-up photos but found the dock had been roped off. Then I saw why - the supports had collapsed as had the sea wall. Typical no maintenance from the local authority, I suppose.
Meanwhile, the low-rent area all around the docks has gone upper class. There are now high rise apartments and yet more cafes. It’s easy to see where all the money in Swansea is located! The low-cost cafe where the trawlermen used to eat had gone, replaced by a high-priced fancy looking place. I cannot imagine why anybody would want to live next to a dock that always smells like a cesspit. Money must have no sense.
Wandering further inland I got to Swansea castle and the old Castle Square. In years gone, Castle Square was a quiet garden where one could sit on a bench and eat sandwiches in peace. It’s now a rather grotesque concrete affair that has even sprouted a giant TV set. It kinda reminds me of the Nuremberg steps.
So I took some pictures and videos then wandered to St Mary’s church where tea was being served. I availed myself of a cup while the vicar relieved me of a pound. Considering my poor tootsies, I decided not to bother with Oystermouth and to call it a day. Thus I headed to the bus station and caught the bus back to my dad’s place.
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