But, I guess that it could create some frisson of hilarity imagining some hairy-arsed ancient Druids wandering the Welsh landscape singing it into existence a la Australian Aborigines only able to come up with such names as previously mentioned*.
|the view from pen y fan|
The sun shone all weekend and the wind blasted us occasionally. We loved it. The first walk I have completed since the breaking of the foot back in December. It all seems to work okay - I just need more stamina. I woke up this morning (der derdun der duh) and my legs were fine. Little pain there to behold. Mind you, I was told by an acquaintance that technically I had no right to be able to multi-task** that early on Sunday morning after the amount I'd "put away last night".
Well, as I keep telling kids at school, you won't get anywhere unless you practise.
As we walked down from our three peaks walk (Pen y Fan, Fan y Big and Crybin) we saw this genuine heart of oaken glory which we reckon is a good 500 year old oak:
A summer of weather like this weekend's would make loads of us stay and holiday here in England (no, I can't stand terms like "staycation" - too management speak for your truly).
* you may need to read Bruce Chatwin's Songlines to get that
** stand up, drink tea, breathe