Final Goodbye Gower

We have now been moved about four weeks and it is only now that I have found the time to blog my final goodbye; written just before we left Gower and put onto a computer ready and waiting for time and an internet connection.

Today (Monday 9th) was our main moving day. All our goods and chattels (What is a chattel? With no broadband or books to hand I cannot advise on this!) have been stacked in a van. We are left for the night with two beds and a fridge/freezer drying out. Tomorrow morning, early, these will be collected and we will transport ourselves to Dorset (or Doorseett as I must learn to say).

This evening, the house is empty, no chairs, table TV, broadband etc. I am sitting in a bare room, on the floor, propped up by the wall. It reminds me somewhat of the first house we rented in York. That was so empty and damp that when my parents visited with our, otherwise, well-trained dog Kip, he went into our back room on the ground floor, must have thought he was outside, and lifted his leg on the wall!

My goodbye to Gower efforts recently have included a walk between Port Eynon and Scurlage that resulted in a bumper harvest of blackberries, a visit to the recycling site on the Swansea Enterprise park, a group bike ride with the Reynoldston Flyers and, this evening, a visit to the King Arthur – probably the acme of Gower pubs. The pub visit was forced on us by a lack of basic home amenities but was very welcome; good food and very good ale. Whilst there I chanced upon an awful pun (usually, it is an awful pong) in the toilets.

I hope the awful trade name Scenturion is legible

I hope the awful trade name Scenturion is legible

A urinal deodorizing device called Scenturion. I am of the opinion that business puns are something of a South Walian phenomenon. I have seen many examples in my journeys around the region. The one that sticks in my mind is the Barber shop in Gorseinon called Herr Kutz!

Now it is starting to get dark, there is nothing to do or see in the house but it is far too early for bed. I suddenly realise there is still one Goodbye to make and this is the perfect time. I walk down the road and look at the sky. It is clear and there is a slim, silver crescent moon bright among a few spindly dark grey clouds with a startling backdrop of orange/red clouds higher up catching the sun before it disappears. The tide is a fair way in and the small waves are forming up across the bay in lines, slowly approaching the shore and lighting up bright white as they break. The beach is empty and the only noise is the waves. This has been “my bay” many times in the past and probably never again. All I can do is shrug, pick up some bits of litter only yards from a litter bin, as I have done countless times before, and turn my back to climb up the hill again. On the way bats buzz-bomb me and a robin trills a last song as daylight fades. Finally, Goodbye Gower.

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