England/Wales 2025- 24 Hours in Wales

Our first Saturday in England and we took a tiny dip into Wales. What do I mean by that? Probably just what you’re thinking. We didn’t have time to drive deeply into the country of Wales so we had to satisfy ourselves with crossing the border and staying in the first town we came upon. For us this meant the town of Chepstow. It’s so close to the border that when I told my husband that we were staying in Chepstow so we could check off visiting the final country in the United Kingdom he argued that Chepstow was still in England. 

Chepstow is indeed in Wales, but the name derives from Old English for market place. If you are native Welsh then you call it Cas-Gwent which refers to the “Castle of Gwent”. Speaking of castles, Chepstow has one. Did we see it? No we didn’t, even though we were staying within walking distance. I can only boil this down to jet lag and distracted minds. I genuinely forgot all about it until we were hours away. Do I regret this? I certainly do. I’ve never met a castle I didn’t like. Especially one that is the oldest surviving post-Roman fortification in Britain. I suppose I should take this moment to explain that this trip to the UK was different from all of our past trips. Sure, it was a vacation, but the primary purpose was family obligation. Without going into the private, finer details I’ll just say that a reconciliation of epic proportions was the focus of this trip and it weighed heavily on both of our minds. It kept us quite preoccupied and things like castles were allowed to be forgotten. 

To cross the border into Wales at this juncture you have to drive across a very large bridge which spans the River Severn. When we arrived in Chepstow our first order of business was to find our airbnb. The one I settled on was a little studio apartment right on what I would call the town square. The steps to the front of the apartment led to stores and restaurants. Life was brimming outside. It’s a shame that we  were both so distracted while we were there. I have a grand total of 4 photos and 2 videos from Chepstow- 2 of those photos are of the same thing and one of the videos cuts off before it gets interesting. I swear I took more photos on this trip and they seemed to have disappeared. I remember taking a photo of the back of the building the apartment was in and the street where the restaurant we ate at later was on. Those photos are nowhere to be found, so I feel like I’m just imagining it. Or I ruthlessly went through my photos and deleted ones I didn’t think I was going to need? Although that’s not very like me. In any event I stopped taking photos in Chepstow at 2:57 pm on Saturday and didn’t resume taking photos until 11:50am, 158 miles away near Bolsover, England. Not a single photo or video to document that journey. This just goes to show how anxious I was about the coming week and the situation with my husband’s family. 

The Town Gate or Town Arch as you enter into Chepstow

The Town Gate or Town Arch viewed closer up. Built in the late 13th century 

Chepstow city center. Our airbnb was just outside the frame of this photo on the left. 

What did we do in Chepstow? Took a trip to the Tesco Superstore where we stocked up on snacks, walked the pedestrian underpass which I’m angry that I didn’t document, and took a brisk walk uphill to attend a Saturday night mass at St Mary’s Catholic Church. Being married to a devout and practicing Catholic means I occasionally attend mass which isn’t so bad when its in a beautiful stone parish church, but when it’s in an ugly modern building I find my mind wandering and I count down the minutes until the service is over. This was one such place and one such time. I also found myself with a pesky dry cough which isn’t something you want to have during a quiet church service. 

St Mary’s Catholic Church (photo from their website). Whyyyyyy do we insist on building ugly buildings?

Once again, I’ve gotten ahead of myself so let me just detour real quick and circle back to the pedestrian underpass. This concept probably exists in American cities but I have only experienced them while in the UK.  Up until that point I had only encountered them in larger cities but little Chepstow- population 11,900- has a major road (the A48) running right through it making the underpass necessary. This is not the kind of road you want to try to cross as a pedestrian. When you arrive at your desired intersection you will find it blocked by railing, which you will find confusing if you have never come up against this set up before. Thankfully it was not my first rodeo, we knew to follow the railing which leads you away from said intersection where you will eventually find stairs leading to what can sometimes feel like an ominous and dark tunnel. Every single time I’ve used a pedestrian underpass I can’t help but think about the Everything But The Girl song Hatfield 1980, where Tracey Thorne recounts her experiences with crime and specifically her fear of pedestrian underpasses and her boyfriend being stabbed. This lyric repeats through my head every single time:

“Suburbia, 1am, you’re walking home again

Shopping bags and broken glass

I hate going through the underpass

I wish there was some other way around

But you got beaten up by the playground and it’s not use

We’ll have to go through the suburban shopping centre 

Pedestrian walkways I think they were meant to 

Make things better

But it’s just emptier and scary at nighttime

Hatfield at that time”

Thankfully for us this was charming Chepstow in the middle of the day and the pedestrian walkway but bustling. But I tell you, you wouldn’t catch me walking through one alone after dark. The pedestrian underpass is a wonderful concept but unfortunately provides the perfect shadowy, private place to commit a plethora of crimes. I didn’t take the time to notice but I’m sure in this day and age there were cctv cameras set up before, during, and after that tunnel, but it still feels a little creepy. I asked my husband if they ever made him nervous and his response: “No, they’re just dirty and smell of piss.” So there you have it ladies and gentleman a true Sheffielder’s response, no fear just disgust over grime and urine. I feel the need to add, this isn’t even the difference between a man’s response and a woman’s response- this is the difference between someone who grew up in the bad part of a city, had his house broken into twice while he was home and was physically attacked in broad daylight for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time- and someone who grew up in the country and is more likely to be fending off a raccoon eating their dogs food than another human being. We have a funny dynamic when we’re in sketchy places, let me tell you. 

The best I could do was get this photo of the stairs leading to the pedestrian underpass from Google Maps

We ended our day in a crowded pub not far from our airbnb. It was the only time we heard welsh voices and even those weren’t plentiful. We heard more English and Polish accents than Welsh during our time in Chepstow. I would love to come back to Wales and this time venture much deeper into the country. I want to really feel the cultural shift. 

It was a quick 24 hours, but we’d now officially been to every country in the UK and this felt significant to me. What I learned from this time in Wales was that  living in the moment is a wonderful idea at the time but for me, my memories need documentation. I need the photos, and the videos along with being present in the moment. Because, I take great joy in looking back on what we’ve done and places we’ve seen. Something as mundane as a pedestrian underpass should be documented because the memory of it is already fading. I hate the fact that I didn’t take any photos of the shop windows where things are in both English and Welsh, or in the pub where we had a delicious meal. While writing this post I checked my email for anything pertaining to this trip and I was reminded that we went to a Wetherspoons as soon as we arrived in Chepstow so we could gather our thoughts, have a cup of coffee and come up with a game plan for the more serious family things ahead. I remembered that they were so busy that they ran out of coffee mugs and it took 20 minutes for us to receive our cups, which were still warm from the dishwasher. I’m just now remembering the flipping of my tummy and the look of anguish on my husband’s face as we discussed the days ahead and the reunion that had been 17 years in the making.  

This is why I save receipts, take those photos and shush my husband while I’m taking that video. It prompts my memory, takes me back to a moment. Unlocks a door that I forgot I closed. I genuinely had forgotten that moment in Wetherspoons until 5 minutes ago. So here’s to unearthing more memories as I move forward and hoping more doors open. 

We left Chepstow early that next morning. It was a day full of driving that started at the service station to grab a quick breakfast and a hot drink before we commenced our day’s journey. What I remember most from that morning was how crowded the services were, the sugary mistake I made and the very tall, very large man getting into a tiny car. 

With Chepstow in the rear view mirror it was time to cross that river and head back into my husband’s homeland to face some fears head on.