Given my phobia of spending more than 45 minutes in a confined space with my children (developed during airplane journeys, I’m sure), going on a two-and-a-half-hour round trip up Snowdon in a packed train carriage may seem a surprising choice of activity.
But the tickets were booked online weeks in advance, so we were going to the top of Wales’ highest peak come rain or shine.
The former being the forecast, of course. Undeterred, off we went, hoping the weather might clear.
Once the mountain train started climbing, and the grey slate roofs below disappeared from view, there was no going back. We made our way through forest, then open, treeless countryside, past ruined shepherd’s cottages and into the very rain clouds that the drizzle was coming from.
Some elderly ladies showed true British spirit by singing "She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes" while we kept the kids happy, fed and warm.
Oldest son, in particular, thought it was one big adventure. He's obsessed with trains, spends half his life pretending to be a train, and is planning on being a train driver when he grows up. He was just thrilled that we were being pushed up a steep hill by a coal-fired steam locomotive (dating back to 1895) and wasn't the least bit upset when the view disappeared.
At the top of Snowdon, we spent a few minutes peering through the mist at the craggy summit, before scurrying indoors to dry off and make sure we didn’t miss the train down again.