Well here I am, back from Wales. Only just though: because if those Welsh hill farmers had their way I wouldn't be here at all. First of all one tried to knock me down in Dolgellau - and all because I was stood on the pavement looking in a shop window. Admittedly it was an estate agents: perhaps he thought I was about to buy up the whole town (as if! - although most of it does appear to be up for grabs). And then I went walking. With my friend Ray. Up a hill. On a footpath. Except we had trouble finding exactly where the footpath joined the farm track (and, yes, we were using an Ordnance Survey map). So this is where we stopped and asked for some assistance - our position's marked on the satellite image here:
And have you ever spoken to a Welsh hill farmer? Because the first thing is that they flatly refuse to make eye contact with you. And then if you ask them where the footpath is, this is what you get: "no footpath here - sign at the bottom says that." Bloody miserable sod.
And of course there is a footpath there: through the gate and round the dog-leg above the red circle there. Come at it from another direction and here are the footpath signs (on the gateposts there):
So, byddaf yn anghytuno, fy ffrind. You're not going to stop me coming to Wales. And walking on your footpaths.