Super

From Bath we went to Cardiff, and it was not a pleasure. It wasn't horrible; it was merely uninteresting. We did everything we wanted to do in the space of five hours, and since we were to be there for two days, we took a side trip the next day to see Tintern Abbey. It was a splendid day: more about that when I get back to Canada.

In Cardiff I saw a truck which bore the following legend:

Anthony's...for that delicious, tasty flavour!

Cardiff: home of redundancy.

On Wednesday we took the train from Cardiff to Glasgow, and if Cardiff was ininspiring, then Glasgow was without a doubt the most depressing city I've ever been in--and I lived in Saint John for six years. The hotel was no help, poorly run and inadequately furnished, particularly for the ungodly price we were paying (though the poor staff were doing their best, I think); it was all so bleak that we resolved to go to Edinburgh on Thursday, and it was a huge improvement, let me tell you.

One good thing came of the train trip from Cardiff to Glasgow, though. One of the stops was a place called Weston-super-Mare. The second and third words of the name, I knew, were Latin for "on the sea", and I had always assumed that the last word would be pronounced in the Latin manner, "mah-ray", even though I didn't know for sure. The train conductor cleared it up for me: he pronounced it "mare", exactly the same as a lady horse, and that is in fact the correct pronunciation. Another tiny, insignificant mystery solved!