1969 European Holiday: North Wales
29 July 1969
Today the Carringtons took us on a 200+ mile drive around North Wales, cruising around the countryside in the quiet comfort of Jack's swank Humber Sceptre. (Learned what 'overdrive' meant, among other things!)
I have lots of mental snapshots of the events of the day, but once again, as in the Ring of Kerry, most photography was apparently done via home movie, not still cameras, hence I have no pictures to share here, alas.
The most memorable stops were Beddgelert, and Caernarvon; the latter of which was where not even a month ago yet H.R.H. Charles Philip Arthur George had been invested as Prince of Wales. I took away two souvenirs of the place: this official program of the Investiture ceremony,
and this commemorative medal. (I don't recall how much Mother paid for it, but it's an ounce of sterling silver, so I daresay it wasn't cheap.)
I have to chuckle: here it is, 50 years later, and Charles' visage has yet to appear on any actual coins of the realm. I rather doubt he- or his mother- ever imagined he would have to wait quite so long.
Jack Carrington told me many stories over the years, but none were as memorable as the one that awaited me at Beddgelert.
Gelert's gravesite in the present:
As we returned home, I remember sitting in the back seat reading that postcard over and over and over again, with a constant tear in my eye, hardly being able to imagine the tragedy of the tale that was told thereon. It still chokes me up to this day...
Today the Carringtons took us on a 200+ mile drive around North Wales, cruising around the countryside in the quiet comfort of Jack's swank Humber Sceptre. (Learned what 'overdrive' meant, among other things!)
I have lots of mental snapshots of the events of the day, but once again, as in the Ring of Kerry, most photography was apparently done via home movie, not still cameras, hence I have no pictures to share here, alas.
The most memorable stops were Beddgelert, and Caernarvon; the latter of which was where not even a month ago yet H.R.H. Charles Philip Arthur George had been invested as Prince of Wales. I took away two souvenirs of the place: this official program of the Investiture ceremony,
and this commemorative medal. (I don't recall how much Mother paid for it, but it's an ounce of sterling silver, so I daresay it wasn't cheap.)
I have to chuckle: here it is, 50 years later, and Charles' visage has yet to appear on any actual coins of the realm. I rather doubt he- or his mother- ever imagined he would have to wait quite so long.
Jack Carrington told me many stories over the years, but none were as memorable as the one that awaited me at Beddgelert.
Gelert's gravesite in the present:
As we returned home, I remember sitting in the back seat reading that postcard over and over and over again, with a constant tear in my eye, hardly being able to imagine the tragedy of the tale that was told thereon. It still chokes me up to this day...