Climbing The Skirrid while I still could

Amid the COVID lockdowns and regulations that so dominate our lives, it occurred to me recently that I haven't walked in the wonderful Brecon Beacons for over a year. Several weeks passed when I could have rectified this deficiency but other pursuits – such as holidays and celebrating our Golden Wedding Anniversary – understandably took priority.  

On Monday morning my Covid Symptons Study app (which tends to anticipate the 'official' data) showed a higher prevalence of COVID in Monmouthshire than in the neighbouring no-go areas of Newport and Torfaen. Added to this, rumours of an impending all-Wales lockdown finally motivated me to grasp the opportunity while it was still there, so yesterday we set off into Monmouthshire to climb The Skirrid.

We last climbed The Skirrid on a gloriously sunny day in May 2017 (see here). Yesterday's weather wasn't so great, with mist lying low in the valley, but at least a cool wind made climbing easier. With few stops to cool down and gain breath we made it to the top in 40 minutes.

The Skirrid is one of those deceptive climbs that can trick one into thinking that the summit is near. I thought I was nearly there when I snapped this photo, but there's another summit beyond this one. I recall Cat Bells, in the Lake District, being similarly deceptive.

Here's proof that I finally made it to the top. We found a sheltered spot near the summit to eat our picnic and check the BBC news app.  As predicted, the Welsh government had just announced a total Welsh lockdown, starting on Friday evening. We had chosen to come just in time.

The view south, back down the mountain. Abergavenny lies in the misty distance on the right. By now a few rays of sunshine were beginning to pierce through the clouds. 

This photo from 2017 shows the 'split' that gives The Skirrid its name. Explanations abound (see my previous Skirrid post) but in truth its the result of an ice-age land slip. There are several other such landslips on nearby hills, but none so dramatic as this one.

A very steep path descends from the northern end of The Skirrid, joining this pleasant one around the mountain.  Here, I'm walking in the famous 'split'.  The flat stone behind me has an interesting history.

It's known at The Devil's Table. The Devil figures in one of the myths about the 'split', and in the late 1800's a resourceful guy capitalised on this by living nearby as a wizard and encouraging folk to place money on the stone in exchange for magic spells. 

Finally, as the mist began to clear, Sugar Loaf Mountain was clearly visible on the opposite side of the valley.

Google messes up my music collection

In June last year I enthusiastically announced that I had ditched my CD music collection and switched to the Google Play Music app.  Since then, my library of albums and individual tracks has blossomed, so that I can now spend many contented hours satisfying my taste for classical, rock, pop, folk, country and Christian music.  One day the walls of Chez Angie resound to the sound of a Rachmaninov piano concerto; the next it might be Love Over Gold from Dire Straits. £9.95 per month is hardly inexpensive for a modest music collection like mine, but I willingly pay it for the convenience of having so much good music to hand.

One thing that really makes Google Play Music work for me is it's ability to categorise music by genre, like this...

With one click of a mouse, up comes my Folk Music collection...

Sadly, though, all this is about to change. By the end of the year Google Play Music will be no more, and it's already not possible to add new music. Its replacement, already up and running, is YouTube Music.

As would be expected, YouTube Music comes with a host of new features, though I confess to greeting them with a big yawn.  

YouTube Music offers a variety of playlist options now, too, including collaborative playlists built with friends and new programmed playlists built by editors. Assistive technology now also makes personalized suggestions of what to add when you’re building a YouTube Music playlist.

Amid all the hype, though, they have dropped the 'genre' feature. Now I'm greeted with a dreadful jumble like this one – Stainer's Crucifixion, Dire Staits, Flanders & Swan and Carols from Kings, all on one line. Yuk!!

I do marvel that so-called intelligent program developers have no concept of people liking several music genres. But clearly they do not.  There are a couple of solutions to this mess:

1. Buy the individual albums and store them on a hard disk. Ultimately, this would be less expensive than forking out £9.95 every month, but I would lose the convenience of being able to access my music with ease on my laptop, my tablet and our two smartphones.

2. Switch to another provider.  Spotify is favourite at the moment, though I'm told that its genre category might not be as good as Play Music's. And after I've taken the trouble to move everything across, will some high-ranking idiot from Google take his questionable intelligence to Spotify and mess that up too?  

And it was all going so well.