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Mission Visits the UK - England & Wales, May 2013
Chapter 8th - Portmeirion 4
Chapter 8th: The surgeon's adventures on Tuesday at Portmeirion; Featuring some comments on
wet bars; More photos of the walking paths, because you can never get enough of that; Another go at playing Prisoner No. 5-3/4 since that was ostensibly what he was here to do; Meeting Sandra, the Portmeirion Prisoner expert; Some leftover shots of the Village because you can never get enough of that either and A mysterious occurrence on Wednesday morning as Mission was leaving.
I awoke to a second day of sunshine – fate appears to have favored my visit; perhaps the front desk girl sacrificed an appropriate offering for me. As you may recall, it had been mostly squalls of rain and clouds up until I arrived here where the sun made its presence known to my great pleasure.
Arising quite early, I decided to peruse the coffee table book in the room called Portmeirion, which appears to have been written by a committee. In the article on the Village I found a quote from Country Life Magazine, circa 1930, which I will re-re-quote in a lame effort to try and tie this section of my Journal to piracy in some way. *A-hem* "[Portmeirion is] a glorious medley of Italy, Wales, a pirate's lair, Cornwall, baroque, reason and romance." There. Are you pirate-reenacting purists satisfied? Well, who asked you.
The Star Light and Wet Bar (Far right - in the closet)
A comment about my room(s) and then I promise to get on with the action. Chantry Row 2, where I stayed Sunday night, was a two bedroom suite as I mentioned. The two bedrooms shared a common sitting room that contained a wet bar. (One I did not photograph.)
Yesterday, I moved to Neptune 1 which was part of one of the first buildings designed and constructed in 1926 by Clough Williams-Ellis. Like the two bedroom room I stayed in the night before, it had a wet bar located in (what appears to have been) a closet. This came complete with coffee and tea service, cookies and a refrigerator. (My insulin was glad to see the refrigerator. Well, if insulin had emotions, it would be.) Based on this, I guessed that all the Village rooms have wet bars in them, which seems like a nice arrangement. Curiously, while I was explaining this later, none of my UK friends had ever heard the term 'wet bar' before. So now I have one on them.
You may also notice the light in the room, which was the same star-like style as had been in Chantry Row 2 (and so I'm guessing is also featured in other rooms.) In fact, the only reason I even have a photo of the closet wet bar - admittedly not a very good one - was that I was trying to get the light in its natural setting.
Photo: Stolen
Burt as a Screever. Unrecognizability Rating: 27%. (It's about 3% if you're over 30.)
Like yesterday, I decided to explore the walking paths in the hills after breakfast, mostly so I could pick up a few photos to explain things that I had commented on while writing up the previous days. This also gave me a chance to stick yet another batch of photos into the Journal from the walking paths (I don't know if you guys are getting anything out of all these photos of the Portmeirion paths or not. You're just lucky I don't post them all. I was a photographing dervish on the grounds at Portmeirion. I confess that I get a big kick out of sifting through them all and remembering my walks. This is really why they're here; I always try to please myself in these things to some degree. As Burt said, "I post what I likes and I likes what I post.) (Well, he actually didn't say that, but it's close enough. I was paraphrasing or something.)
First some photos of the paths through the forest...
 The Path Under Purple Flowers |
 The Trail Through a Boundary Wall |
 A Lovely Stairway Path |
Photo: The Bagleys
Lob, Having Other Plans
...then some of the Estuary (below).
Incidentally, I wasn't very familiar with the term 'estuary' when I arrived, so I'll bet many of you aren't either. Fortunately for all of us, I looked it up. Wikipedia tells me that an estuary "is a partly enclosed coastal body of brackish water with one or more rivers or streams flowing into it, and with a free connection to the open sea."
Now, I don't know what you think, but brackish water sounds like something nasty to me. Even so, as you can see below, the water looks fine. Not a bit of brackishness about the stuff from what I can tell. I mean, you probably wouldn't want to walk to the shore there, cup your hands and drink it, but you get my point.
There. Now we're all that much smarter for the next five minutes. (After which you'll probably forget what 'estuary' means.) Now go and use it in a sentence so you can show off for your friends like a trained monkey.
 Pillars Guarding the Estuary View |
 The Estuary Seen Through a Crevice |
 The Estuary Beach from a Lookout Point |
Bone's View Bench, Dedicate to Joan 'Bone' Stead
One of the things I discovered on this trip was a bench located at one of the lookout points on a hill top. To be completely honest, I had seen it the both previous days, but I hadn't noticed the plaque on the bench. It read, '"BONE'S VIEW" Dedicated to the Memory of Joan "Bone" Stead of Dewsbury, West Yorkshire Who Loved This Place 1921 – 2009'. This sort of fascinated me. My first inclination was to wonder if she had actually climbed all the way up here in 2009. Deciding that was a bit irreverent, I put it aside.
My next thought was to wonder what sort of woman would be nicknamed 'Bone.' (Besides Temperance Brennan, of course.) Regular readers and those who know me will understand when I say I felt an instant connection to this woman.
So I decided to sit on her memorial bench and practice a bit of Zen. I cleared my mind and tried to imagine finding this spot when Portmeirion first opened. I had been told by one of the elder staff in the hotel that the paths had originally been wildly overgrown, giving the impression of those who travelled on them of being in gloomy plant tunnels. I was almost sorry to have missed that, although I had seen some impressively high growth in the Ghost Garden.
I learned from Meurig Jones, the Attraction Manager at Portmeirion that she had been coming here for decades. Bone's View was just about as far from the Village entrance into the paths as you 
Bone's View Bench Plaque
could get, so I could just see an adventurous young woman in the 1950s or 60s emerging from the wild plant life onto this contrasting barren spot with the Estuary in front of her and the city of Porthmadog off in the distance. I sat there for about 10 minutes, letting my mind slowly drift absently across such thoughts. Perhaps I could see what Ms. Stead saw. Perhaps I was way off. It was very nice, either way.
When I returned home and started looking over the pictures I had taken, I found the plaque and tried to find out more about Joan "Bone" Stead on-line, but I couldn't even locate an obituary. From Muereg, I learned that there was something about the sing-songiness of Joan Boan that was part of her nickname. Somehow I suspect she was a kindred spirit – nicknamed for a skeleton part, a bit adventurous and perhaps with a slightly creative appreciation for the contrast of the austere sand and water of the estuary and the lush overgrowth of the hillside. I could be wrong, of course, but that's the wonderful thing about not knowing all the details.
 A Panoramic Composite Shot of Bone's View of the Estuary |
After that it was the same lunch I had had on Tuesday - sherry and cookies – since the maid had rejuvenated my supplies for me. (What? You have what you want for lunch, I'll have what I want.)
Sandra and Mission as No. 5-3/4 in the Prisoner
Shop.
(Yes, yes, my hair is parted on the wrong
side. It
would revolt if I tried to change it to look
like Paddy's.
Then I would look
like a punk-rock prisoner.)
With the morning complete, I climbed into my Prisoner garb and headed to the Prisoner store at the Round House to meet Sandra. Sandra was a wonderful person. She suggested I call her 'Sands' because everyone did. She explained that she saw The Prisoner TV Show for the first time 25 years ago and was hooked. She had been running the shop for the past 3 years at Portmeirion
Sandra had actually been working at Portmeirion for several years before that. She told me that she used to work in the Ship Shop where they sell Portmeirion Pottery, preparing pieces for international shipping. (Portmeirion Pottery is quite famous. Much of what I saw featured flowers, birds and butterflies such as those that inhabit the grounds.) When the opportunity presented itself, she grabbed the Prisoner shop duties. "It's really sort of a dream job, isn't it? Working in such a location as Portmeirion which is almost spiritual in a way."
Prisoner Memorabilia
We chatted for quite a while. From her I learned some new UK phrases I didn't know, such as "sotty" which means bad. (I repeated it and she told me not to say it so loud because there were customers in the shop. So I guess it means something really bad.) She also advised that when hinted that they wanted a tip and I didn’t want to give them one as had happened the other day, I should say, "3:30 at Chepstow." (I'm guessing that's a racetrack in the city of Chepstow.) Feeling she would be kind, I asked her to review my outfit. "His pants were a bit lighter than that. And the shoes are right, but they should be lighter blue." Ah. Well, I did ask.
"Does anyone else do this, outside of the Festival?" I queried, referring to my Number 6 garb. "Oh, yes. All the time." she answered. "I just wondered because I haven't seen anyone else since I've been
An Original Prisoner Jacket and Patrick
here." "Last week we had a gentleman who stayed at Portmeirion for a week and spent the entire time in the jacket." Well, that was a relief. She invited me to like her Facebook Fan Page, which is called No 2s Chair. She laughed and said she only had 48 fans since starting it last fall, so I told her I'd make it 49 and spread the word. (Consider it spread, Sands.)
She showed me one of the Original Number 6 jackets, which was under glass on the wall behind her at the register. Apparently the Managing Director at Portmeirion had bought it at auction. "The bidding started around 5 or 600 pounds, although no one knew what he actually paid. Owning it allows them to make and sell accurate replicas of the Jacket. Before I came, I looked on-line to see if I could get a jacket cheaper, but this seemed to be the only place that sold them. So I guess that auction purchase had paid off.
Sandra then agreed to take some photos of me with the Prisoner outfit and the Patrick Hand Original Planter's Hat which you see below. (When Patrick made this hat, I'll bet he never dreamed it would be featured in such photos.)
 Mission No. 5-3/4 and the Portmeirion Village |
 Mission in No. 2's Chair in the Shop |
 Mission at No. 6's Door |
Mission No. 5-3/4 Holding Chicken Fish
There is one last Mission as No. 5-3/4's story to tell and then you never have to hear about this again. (Probably.) While I was toddling about the village, begging people to take photos for me, I came across this group of people with an odd, yellow, hat-like thing which
Mission No. 5-3/4 Holding Chicken Fish
they insisted I pose with for them.
Now, regular readers all know my policy about posing for people - I get a reciprocal photo by way of payment. So they all posed with me and this odd yellow thing, which turned out to be named Chicken Fish. "Not to be confused with Fish Chicken," one of them explained. This made the rest of them laugh.
I believe they said they were originally from Wisconsin which may explain why they all thought that was funny. As it turned out, Chicken Fish was touring in aid of gaining attention for Purrfect Pets Rescue out of Arlington, Washington. I tried to find their website, but nothing turned up. So this whole thing may have been an elaborate con, Wisconsin style. Although the only thing I found missing on my return home was one of my over the knee red reenactor socks. (Why they didn't take both of them is a complete mystery to me.)
I do want to post a last few photos of the village here like I did with the walking paths. There are about 120 photos which I am not posting, so be happy this is all that I am putting in here. It was a lovely place, though, and I wanted to try and share that as much as I could. (Besides, this is like the end of the LOTR trilogy where there are sixteen endings to things in the third movie. You liked that, right? So you should like this.)
 Pirate Ship? (OK, lame tie-in.) |
 A Neat View of the Observatory |
 The View of the Hotel as Seen from the Grotto |
 Portmeirion Village - Evening |
 Village from the Central Piazza |
 The Village Looking Toward Pantheon |
I do have one final finale for Portmeirion. It properly belongs on the next page, since it is a story from Wednesday, but it is the only Wednesday tale related to this location, so I'm tacking it on here.
Wednesday at breakfast,
The Portmeirion Hotel Restaurant Staff
at Work. (Hopefully no one gets in trouble
for my sneaking this photo.)
I saw Leri again – she hadn't been around on Tuesday – and I really wanted a photo of her and the red-haired waitress who had been so nice. Since the red-haired waitress was no where to be seen, I asked Leri if I could get her photo for the Journal, which she said was OK. Then I went off to my room to finish preparations for my leave-taking. After loading the care, I trotted back down to the main hotel to check out. Who should be at the bottom of the hill but Leri.
I figured she was outside on an errand or something, but no! She was waiting for me! Well! This was exciting! Or not. She had been told by someone that she shouldn't have posed for the photo in the hotel and now she asked me not to use it. I said I wouldn't, but she wanted me to delete it right there and then. So I found the photo on my camera and showed her it and told her I didn't know how to delete it. (Which is true.) She knew however, so I let her. (BTW, this should tell you a lot about your author. I've owned this camera for three of four years.)
Leri told me I could use a photo of her from the web. I asked if she had one in her waitress outfit (I don't know why - it was just a white shirt and navy skirt, but it seemed relevant at the time.) She promised to take one and email it to me, but she never did.
We chatted for quite a bit after that while I was checking out, but I knew Gareth would soon be waiting for me in the parking lot outside the gate and I didn't want to leave him standing there. I did get Leri to take a photo (in the hotel) of me with the friendly porter who had taken me to my room on Sunday, which you saw page 6. Very odd, all of that. (Not much odder than some of the other stories in these Journals, though.) And that was my experience of Portmeirion.