Going round in circles

“Let’s go to Brecon!”, Sandie said, “you like Coffee #1, and you like shopping in Ty Cariad (well-presented gift shop), and we’re being told to shop locally (there’s no alternative really), and we always do as we’re told (that’s how you brought me up), and Harry said he needs a haircut (brilliant job for £8 OAP rate), so what’s not to like?”.

So, job done. By 11.16, we set off from Brecon for home – voice from the back “does anyone fancy lunch?”.

“Well, we could go to Three Cocks” suggested Sandie, “by the way, Harry, how was your hair cut?”

Now, you have to understand that I don’t like the painful process. I’m sat on a chair that is too close to the next one or five, and both delightful salon-trained stylists are currently servicing customers (do I mean that?), trying not to watch but listening to “Kyle” (“my ex is having an affair with his daughter’s best friend’s dog’s significant other” or whatever) and as the two being serviced OAP gentlemen are not chatting to the girls, they start a shouty conversation between themselves which gives intriguing insights into their lives and their Welshness. So by the time I relate all of this in answering Sandie, I realise we’re on the wrong road. (Not my fault, I’m suffering from PTSD).

Covering up my mistake seemlessly, I proffer “how about we go to Nichols in Abervagenny, it’s a lovely store, and, mother-in-law, you’ve not been there, and they have a cafe, and there’s a disabled parking bay outside it?”. Joint “oooooo, yes” from the gullible ones, so easy peasey.

Except ….. it’s twelve months since Sandie and I have been there, and they’ve pedestrianised the town and after two trips around the town, we can’t get to Nichols’s, so I drop the shoppers in the builders merchant’s car park which is a short stumble to said venue, whilst I park the car.

I catch up with them and it’s phenomenally busy, and we’re in a whirl as we haven’t interacted with so many people since we’ve moved to Wales, and it’s taken so long to get here, we’re starving (3 x bacon, cheese and mushroom toasted sandwiches on brown please, and three Earl Greys). Post lunch, and post shopping, how to get Joan out of here? Consulted the mapapp on the phone; out of the car park, pass the end of the road where the happy shoppers are standing, left, left, and left, and I pop up beside them “surprise!”…. no, the final “left” is blocked off! So, I again go round the pedestrianised town, with Sandie, who saw me not do the left turn, apparently waving at me and re-christening me an idiot.

I did the pop up bit, eventually, and we set off for Llandod. Half-way there and there’s a traffic diversion, and by the time we pass Three Cocks (remember, earlier?), Joan is gasping, but we have now left the animals far longer than planned and the dogs and donks will all have crossed legs. So! To Merryhall for tea, and thence to Llandod, having travelled a complete figure of eight, but I did get my hair cut!