Writer's Notebook

They spread themselves out over the scanty expanse of green in front of the terminal building. This was the perfect ending to what had been a near perfect holiday. Five days exploring various sites, meeting new people, immersing themselves in the rugged beauty of the Welsh countryside. Under such circumstances, even speaking English had come easily. And, of course, the weather. They had seen the pictures, they knew what to expect. Luscious, green vegetation didn't come from days of burning sunshine. But even on this last day the sun smiled benevolently down upon them, just as it had done for four of the five previous days. What more could they want? Well, actually, there was one thing, but that too was on its way as they started to unpack the picnic bags raising eyebrows from more than a few passer-bys. One last picnic, one last memory.

"I just wish we had decided to stay that extra day. After all who needs a day to rest up after a holiday like this."

The sentiment was echoed by all as the bread spreads were passed from hand to hand.

"Mind you," piped another voice, "I'm glad we found that place that baked French bread. Imagine having to put up with rubber bread for five days. I guess there are some things we French will never get used to."

"Then again, this wine is excellent. I never thought I'd say that about a wine not from France."

Everyone raised a glass and toasted to that. Sweet praise indeed, thought Daffy - the only Welshman in the group. The trip to the vineyard had been one of their objectives from the start but they'd very nearly missed out. In fact, it was only due to the good graces of the vintner that they'd been able to see it, at all. Even he had forgotten that everything closed earlier over here. Then again, they'd made it his worthwhile. Each one had parted with at least one mixed box and some had bought a box of each variety.

"This, for the airport!" the vintner had waved cheerfully, thinking the more he improvised on his English, the likelier they would be to understand. Now the last drops were gone and one by one they collapsed back in the grass for a very French siesta.

"Daffy, give us a few of your Welsh tunes to dream along with."

Daffy got out his mouth organ and soon the notes were floating up passed their ears up and out over the sea towards France, as the others closed their eyes in forgetful bliss, as the final call for the missing passengers had gone out with no reply. Their luggage was taken off the plane. Their yearning for one more day in Wales was to be granted after all.