The Golden Lion, Four Crosses
It's been a while since I had the luxury of writing a lunchtime report.
Well, I finally have Welshpool out of my system. It was dragging me down even as I was leaving it by the canal path; the filthy, litter and empty plastic bottle strewn towpath a testament to how the people of that awful little place saw themselves and their shabby little lives.
The further I walked away from Welshpool, my morale soared. The clagging mist slowly lifted, and I joined the River Severn as the sunshine slowly cheered everything up.
On the far bank the quarry rumbles away ripping huge chunks of basalt from beneath the hill to finally end up in some roadsurface somehwere. People complain about quarries, but it has been going on for millenia and at the end of the day, the hills are still there.
The pub has been recently taken over by a new husband & wife team - good music, an excellent fresh salad and well kept beers does it for me. It is early in the season for Offa's Dyke walkers, but it is an excellent walker friendly place - especially if you like Blues.
This morning I had breakfast with a team from York University who are being funded to find out that draining the peatbogs is a bad idea. They are spending all their days in the cold and wet on top of some wet windy hill in Wales measuring gas emmisions from pet bogs in drained and undrained conditions. Up to their armpits in freezing bog: I know I enjoy bogs, but I am not sure I could spend each and every day in them.
Huge respect for them!
Old speckled hen and Hancocks HB: Smashing.