Back in what may be considered “imperial phase” Aberystwyth, a regular week would contain two immovable (except for when they moved, which often they did) feasts, in the form of Geek Night and Troma Night, monikers that will doubtless need little by way of explanation to those in the know, whilst proving, in equal measure, impenetrable and baffling to any “not-we” readers. Members of this second group may be reassured to learn that these two events can be summed up in delightfully-abbreviated fashion, viz: at Geek Night, we would play assorted card, board and strategy games and at Troma Night, we would gather to watch films of varying – and often dubious – quality. The former, indeed, continues in Aber to this day, which is jolly nice if you like that sort of thing. Which I very much do.
A number of the former key players at these gatherings have now left Aber and, growing up being what it is, certain childish things have been put away in favour of more mature endeavours. Well, alright, they’ve actually been replaced with equally-juvenile activities – and rightly so – but every now and then it’s quite nice to wallow in a bit of nostalgia and relive past glories. Continue reading
This is part five of #ohnohesoffononeagain. If you’re starting here, you may wish to take a step back and peruse parts one, two, three and four first. Pay no attention, however, to the man behind the curtain.
Thus far, it may be noted, my trip had featured little by way of what one may term “traditional holiday fare”, insofar as the activities in which I had indulged were not particularly holiday-specific. I mean, train journeys are all very well (yes they are. Shut up), as are random board and/or card games, but they’re very much the sort of thing that may crop up throughout the course of an average year, without the need to wrap it up under any kind of “holiday” moniker. Well, anyone thinking that is completely wrong and I was having a fabulous holiday of it all, but if it’s box-standard sightseeing holidaymaking you’re after, then hold on to your hats, because things are about to get pretty darned mental in that respect. Oh yes. Continue reading
This is part four of #largenumberthreatened. If you’re starting here, you may wish to take a step back and peruse parts one, two and three first. But be warned: you have been warned.
Two trains and three rather ludicrously-extended preludes later, I was in Oxford. Well, as close to Oxford as anyone was prepared to let the railway go, in any case. The pleasant thought that Arriva had now concluded its involvement in my holiday blinded me ever so slightly to the rather unassuming and, some may say, inauspicious station in which I now found myself. Continue reading
This is part three of #numberunspecified. If you’re joining at this point, you may wish to backtrack slightly to parts one and two. Equally, you may not. Bear in mind, though, that there may be a quiz.
One of the advantages of living here in deepest Wales is that our local train service is unencumbered by that blight on urban travel: the morning peak. Back in Norfolk, one would be left with the conundrum of whether to pay extra for the privilege of travelling up the Fen Line nice and early, or else lose a great big chunk of the morning waiting for the cheap seats to come along. Not so here at the end of the Cambrian Line, as we tend to have mercifully few commuters this side of Newtown. And so it was that I caught the 0514 Arriva Trains Wales service from Aberystwyth that delightful, soggy Saturday morning to begin my rather circuitous route to Newcastle-under-Lyme. Continue reading