Yes Ladies, you can still get them, for all shapes and sizes of bums.

In a small town called Dollgellau near the Royal Hotel is a relic to the past. Ronnie Barker would have been proud to have this outlet as a compliment to his corner shop. Inside were functional clothes for all weathers and even Hats for Hire, for that special funeral/wedding.

The owners were very particular about their stock but unlike other retailers there assortment was in-stock and, very reasonably priced too. Those big briefs were only £2 each. Beat that M&S! I would get there soon before the owners retire (again)!

Zosia admires the view down to the Pig Trail & Miner's Track

It took a while but I finally managed to climb all three of the mainland summits – Scafell, Ben Nevis and Snowdon (in that order). I would need to get a calculator out to approximate the number of days it took, but who cares. Anyhow, climbing Snowdon (Yr Widdfa) was relatively easy and could have been much quicker had it not been a very hot sunny day (all day) and hundreds or tourist out for a walk, charity runners, scout groups and many over-weights getting in the way.

Don’t even think about having a peaceful rest on the summit, in fact, try and find a spot to sit is nigh impossible. All around you are idiots trying stupid camera angles, parents with their babies walking round the summit cairn and every Tom, Dick and Harry speaking to their chums on their mobiles saying where they were.

Zosia can't be bothered to climb the steps. Every cairn looks the same to her.

There are over five routes to the summit and one is very, very easy … you just get on the train and it take you up the cog railway. If you decide you want fresh air you can get out and wait for the next train to pick you up at one of three stations.

The best bit of mis-advice is the ‘Half-way’ staion & cafe which maybe halfway in distance but is NOT in effort as just after the cafe is the steepest section and one which most walkers(tourists) fall over and die.

The main attraction for most casual ramblers is the Scenic View Restaurant on the summit, about five steps from the last station, so in practice you could go up Snowdon and not get wet, cold or even get fresh air to touch your delicate skin; and so avoid getting Carmelitis (italian joke).

Alfredo was like a child in a candy shop. He had arrived at his all time favourite castle and the sun was out, the sky was blue and it wasn’t raining. He was in heaven. All he had to do was get all of the castle into his Canon camera!

Meanwhile, the other tourists were doing the same … in their droves. Some even paying the fee to get in the gate and over the bridge to the island itself. Not our brave Italian hero. He just walked past the dozing attendant and got his shot in the can (well did apologise on the way back through).

Sandra had all three ‘vestitos’ on, plus a fleece and wind jacket and still couldn’t believe this was our summer. Well it wasn’t typical was it?

Well down the path and over to the Dunsapie Loch things got much better and we could even manage to get out of the car and see sunset over the city. There was a queue for the perfect photospot as all the budding snappers wanted to get the city at sunset. It was just too cold for Sandra – she retired to the car.

This image was taken on good old fashioned film, 35mm Ilford and developed and printed by my own skilled hands. It was taken in 1982 using a Pentax MX with just a straightforward 50mm lens, and no filters or other nonsense. All I’ve done to the print is use a very extinct paper called Agfa Record Rapid – a fibre paper which took ages to develop and even longer to wash and dry.

Back in the Eighties there were more street artists on the Mound, the High Street etc – anywhere you were able to draw a crowd to watch you perform. Eddie Izzard was still a nae’bdy then and could be found in all weird places doing his thing.

Those that could would have hundreds of tourists and even locals like myself watching their every move; that is, until the hat was passed around for ‘donations’ as this is how these guys made a living.

I always felt sorry for the ‘chalk artists’ as not only did people walk over their work once it was gone, but they were always fighting against the Scottish elements, peeing dogs and pigeon poop.

Some were canny enough to cover their work with plastic sheets, which allowed them to continue the work the later or the next day. That is, if the council street cleaners hadn’t done the dirty deed and removed all evidence of their handiwork.