Middle of the night:- Alarm clock rings.

Marginally after the middle of the night:- Crawl out of bed

About 6.55:- Working on the basis that if I paid a quick visit to the loo Paul and co. will arrive, I go in the bathroom.

Thirty seconds later:- The doorbell rang, and we're away!

7.15:- Having picked up everyone, realised I was the only one sad enough to be wearing my Genesis sweatshirt.

On final approach to the M4, Paul uttered the immortal words: "This is a diesel transit mini-bus. It can't do ramming speed!"

After a few minutes on the A34, music which was probably used as incidental music in Camberwick Green graced the speakers in the bus, via the tape that Paul had brought with him. (Ever feel like you've been 'Trumpton'??) The version of 'Relax' by Frankie Goes To Hollywood, which makes Bohemian Rhapsody look like a sonnet, makes it's first (and to be honest, only) 'appearance' (if such a thing is possible) soon after.

Stop for breakfast.

9.38:- Realised that I'd been awake for over 4 hours, when on a normal Saturday I would only now be getting out of bed.

A few minutes after:- Realised that remembering the times at which things happen for the purpose of writing this diary was rapidly going to lose it's appeal. Occasional timings will have to do.

Sign spotted for Cadbury World, but we lacked enough time for a detour. Pity.

10.40:- Paul realises that there are people asleep in the bus and retaliates with a loud burst of music.

A considerable amount of time later, the first signs that we were finally getting near our intended destination - the Dalek symbol spotted on a road sign about 10 miles from Llangollen. Soon after, and a few signs later, we were there, and the party descended on the exhibition.

The group split into two as we made our way around a maze of display cases and admired some excellent original props. The Sixth Doctor costume was particularly horrific, and far scarier than some of the actual monsters (Dave, take note). However, there were a few particularly ugly looking monsters, among them Daleks, Cybermen and Sea Devils. Mike's sudden remark "oh look, a Sea Devil helmet!" needed some serious re-phrasing, though!

We were also able to crouch inside a Dalek and mimic their distinctive voices using the special microphone mounted on the inside. My own impression of a Dalek on viagra (one word: 'FORNICATE!!!') caused a reasonable level of at least mild amusement.

The materials used for the costumes of the Cheetah People from the final TV story 'Survival' made me realise that there must have been several Ford Capris driving around London without seat covers as a direct result of this costume, the footwear for which was a funny looking cross between wellies and furry slippers! However, credit where it's due, these were actually lovely costumes to look at, if probably not to wear.

The visit to the exhibition finished with a guided tour of the Dapol factory, which was actually more interesting than anyone really expected, and the obligatory visit to the shop, well stocked with videos, (fortunately, in the main, ones I already have) books and an assortment of utterly useless but probably highly popular novelties.

Conclusion on the Exhibition: an excellent, well laid-out set of exhibits, more than well worth the journey. A surprisingly interesting guided tour of the factory and, for once, a guide book that was actually worth the £2.50 price-tag. As an added bonus, which I wasn't altogether expecting, the Exhibition actually acknowledged the existence of the Eighth Doctor, which is more than the BBC do at times, though perhaps not surprisingly it lacked any props or costumes from the TV movie.

Helen then took over the driving duties as we departed in high spirits to find a suitable pub for lunch, which we duly found amongst some fairly stunning scenery.

This was a very brief exchange of words uttered as Helen turned left out of the town, and Rhys and Paul expressed where they wanted to go next:

Rhys: BEACH! BEACH!

Paul: PUB!! PUB!!

At this instant we took a slight (unintentional) detour via the pavement, to which Ross and I responded:

KERB!!!!! KERB!!!!!

Having piled into the pub and scared away a number of terrified locals, we re-arranged the furniture in the bar and had some lunch, still admiring the view out of the large window we were sitting next to.

After another lengthy drive we paused for breathe next to a large lake, where Rhys and Paul in particular showed their skill at stone skimming, along with Nick, who's slightly unorthodox 'slingy' technique was nonetheless almost as successful. As opposed to mine, which caused various stones to sink like...well, a rock actually, without so much as a hint of anything remotely resembling a 'bounce'.

Later, we had our one and only slight 'detour' of the weekend - but it did provide us with the slightly bizarre but welcome site of what I think was a (tamed, probably hand-reared) Red Kite sitting on a fence next to it's handler. About 15 years ago I was lucky enough to see a pair of Red Kites in the wild and they are truly awesome creatures.

Arrived about 8 minutes before pub opening time, but they took pity on us and let us in. We dished out rooms (me and Ross ended up in a twin room) we vegged out with Only Fools and Horses for about an hour (the episode where Rodney says "I'm gonna find a little bloke. I'm gonna 'ave a fight!!") before meeting downstairs for a drink and a chat, and debated where to go for a meal. In the end we stayed at The Golden Fleece for a meal in their bistro and by the time we left there, the locals were sounding in very good voice. The lights finally went out around mid-night.

Sunday, 7.23:- Paul knocked loudly on the door - seven minutes early, and one of the first things Ross said after the obligatory yawning was over was "that leaves another hour in bed and seven minutes to get ready for breakfast!"

8.00:- Pre-breakfast stroll with Ross, Paul and Rita. The morning was dull but surprisingly (and pleasantly) warm.

10.30:- Finally left the Golden Fleece after tidying up the rooms - next stop, Portmeirion.

After a brief stop over to raid a conveniently placed cash point, we arrived at the Portmeirion car park and off I went to part with the cash and buy the tickets.

Ten minutes later, as I walked straight past the path which the man at the gate had told us to take I handed over all 'guide' duties to Ross.

We spent the next hour or so enjoying the views out over the beach, before walking back to sample the ice cream and take in the Village itself in what was by now, very warm, glorious sunshine. After raiding the Prisoner shop of postcards and badges, drinks mats and car stickers (and various other things) we set about trying to match up the pictures of Patrick McGoohan in the various reference books bought by various people to the nearby buildings. After much too-ing and fro-ing we concluded what we thought at the start - that the shop WAS the house, and managed to work out what angle we should take the obligatory photos from to mimic those old pictures of Patrick McGoohan. Having done this, all we needed was one of those seventy-quid jackets which were for sale in the shop - and yes, we even blagged one of them for a temporary loan - Helen and Natalie can take the credit for that one. The next ten minutes or so was spent alternating the jacket around several people, including myself, still wearing the Genesis sweatshirt, by the way. The pose that your editor adopted tried to mimic the look of the Prisoner, but probably ended up more along the lines of a Doctor Who 'lapel-gripping' look. Oh well.

By that time it was really time we made a move, so after posing for one more group photo with the entrance sign at the front gate, we piled back in the mini-bus and made for home.

Now there had been a mention earlier on in the day about the possibility that some major roads, including the Severn bridge may have been blockaded as part of the fuel protests. In the event, they weren't - tourists weren't a good enough target apparently, and besides we went back the way we had come, but it occurred to me that to not be able to get OUT of Wales, having not been able to get IN to Wales on that snowy day last December would have been fairly ironic!

After a particularly pointless conversation with Nick about the origins of Benedict Taylor's name, and couple of stops, including at one Welcome Break service station where we were a) served by an assortment of 12-year olds and b) treated to the sound of Paul's anti-BMW driver crusade (ask him, sometime), we eventually arrived back to drop off the Reading crowd (Rhys saying as he un-did his seat belt for the last time "don't worry, I know where my bags are - under my eyes") and then headed back to Tadley.

I am pleased to say that everyone had a great time. The weather, which I am always slightly paranoid about when I go anywhere further than shopping in Basingstoke, was extremely kind to us, especially on Sunday, and the two attractions we visited were both excellent. I would like offer a particular vote of thanks to Paul, Natalie and Helen for sharing the driving duties, and everyone who navigated which meant that I didn't have to, although I suspect there was an element or terror involved - I mean, where would we have ended up if the buck, and the road atlas had been passed to me?? Doesn't bear thinking about! And thanks to everyone for making it a great trip.

I guess it wouldn't be Genesis without an appropriate end quote, so here goes....

"One day, I shall come back, yes...I shall come back...."