There comes a moment when you realise that it's time to go. That however much you like a place, you're supposed to be traveling. And that if you don't go now, well you might not go at all.
Things start to become a habit. Things like a morning coffee in the excellent Llangollen Wharf cafe watching the granny-bus visitors and foreign tourists hustle and bustle to get aboard a horse-drawn boat ride.
And we were getting sucked into the Eisteddfod experience too. After watching the delightful parade yesterday we were entertained by sword dancers from Newcastle (the Geordie Newcastle that is) and then by a wonderful choir of Ukranian folk singers in the main street today.
They might come from all over the world to sing and dance in the Eisteddfod but it's still an intimate, small town experience that wouldn't be the same in a big city. We'll definitely be back and maybe stay longer next time.
But today we were off. We left at lunchtime, cruised in sunshine despite the forecast and moored up shortly after the rain started. We're outside the Jack Mytton Inn somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the English/Welsh border country. And what a curious place it is too: a bar that sells a fine range of draught beers but only seats about ten people and a cavernous restaurant that seats about a hundred in surroundings that would have been just about fashionable in the 1980s. Food good in parts but atmosphere sorely lacking despite the friendly service. Sorry Jack!
Tomorrow it's onto the Montgomery.
PS It wouldn't be a Star-cruise without me falling in or damaging myself. Today I slipped jumping off the counter when mooring, barked a shin on the concrete edge and dunked a leg in the water!
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