A fan-tab-ulous day

With sand where sand shouldn't be

And suncream on your shirt

And the dog on your foot

And a pebble in your shoe

And ice-cream on your nose

And wind in your ears

And your bum half off the chair where you sit

And coffee stains on your trousers,

And you; deeply lost in that novel you're reading

And your left sandle lost to the sea with your grandmothers ring

and the change from your pocket

And you can't find the tissues

'cos they're lost in the bag that you hastily packed

so the coffee cups were left 

with your mobile phones' charger

and those sunglasses you bought

with that case that you liked

And the sun cream runs out

And the spare's in the car

And you don't feel inclined to walk back and get it

So your face turns bright red like a twice grilled tomato

And you know that your colleagues will kill themselves laughing when you go back to work

You then; fall flat on your back as your beach chair collapses

And you lye in heap in hysterics

nearly crying

And you get yourself up 

And you think that's enough so trudge back to the car

And you can't find your keys

So you go back and find them

And unlock the car

And throw your whole world in the cars waiting boot

And open your door

And collapse in your seat...

and...

...and you know that you've had a fan-tab-ulous day!

Llaingaled

Listen!

Hear the echos of those this cottage has known, 

people long since departed,

but within these comforting walls - their souls live on.

Like the chair where Grandpa sat

the one with the swan arm-rests, the one he loved!

See him sat warming himself in front of the range.

Llaingaled always welcomed friends and family alike.

There were always people to light the range for,

pots of warming and welcoming tea to be made.

This place is a place to snuggle in the cold of winter.

A place with the constant sound of children,

echos heard

running up and down the hallway - squealing with excitement in the garden,

climbing the ladder,

with rough n tumble in the loft.

Just listen!

Having moved far away

these children now grown up and doing grown up things - still their souls live here.

These walls contain the joy of each child,

and the love they found here.

Now these walls contain the joy of their children,

with the trips to nearby beaches

with the chance of heavy February snow falls,

with snowmen to build,

snowball fights to be had,

after which fingers to warm up in front of the range where Grandpa sat.

Everyone who's visited this place - even briefly as we did,

is now a part of this place and it's history.

This place that is briefly Pippas,

Peters, and Davids,

in time will pass on to their children,

for them to hold onto tightly, 

and to love, 

like all that have visited this place,

and to love it forever.

As you sit there,

feel the history - hear the echoes!

It's all around you - and you are now a part of it.

We came here to eat!

Every day a delicious diet of deli delights!

Bread and buns from the bakers in Beaumaris.

Coffee and cake in the 'caffi'* in Cemeas.

A pot of tea at the Pilot 'caffi'* Penmon 

then perch peering at 'Puffin island'.

Treats at Treaddur Bay.

A meal at Menai.

Shift a plate or two at the Ship then stroll the Red Wharfs salty shores.

To 'The Bengal hut' for 'Balti' and 'Biryani' or 'Bhuna'  with 'basmati' for a bite down by Benllech beach, 

then boogie the boulevard 'round the beautiful bay.

Breifly at the boathouse 

buy a brew and two bottles of a bevvy from behind the bar.

Book the Boathouse for brunch!

Order at the Owain

a final flurry of fine food! 

All quaffed with copious quantities of quality coffee of course!

(The finest filtered; full of flavour found in a flask !)

(*Caffi is Welsh for café BTW )

No passing landward - A letter from a lighthouse

Dear Tourist

Warning!

I stand guard protecting you

as I have done since they lost that steamer the 'Rothsay Castle'.

Take care here,

many have faltered - 133 died that night!

These waters are dangerous.

'Puffin Island' sits in treacherous waters

don't pass between me and the Anglesey shore,

for there are rocks waiting to take you.

The currents here make it a great place to fish

and are excellent for lovers of wildlife,

but beware,

the waters here are violent and fast flowing,

swimming isn’t recommended.

Enjoy the rugged natural beauty of this place,

but only from a safe distance.

Heed the warning my light conveys!

Yours since 1838.

The Penmon lighthouse.

Hideaway

Two clouds silently pass 

high above us.

Except for the dog snoring,

and a breeze, 

blowing through the trees behind us,

heard through the open back door - there is no sound,

nothing,

just silence.

The sun quietly sets,

painting the sky a vivid orange,

highlighting a small fishing boat silently crossing the bay beneath us.

A small TV forlornly stares at me from the corner of the lounge,

as if its screen is a single rectangular eye,

"switch me on", it says

I could tell you all that is going on in world right now!" 

But we just don't care for that here,

we don't need it,

why would we?

Here where we hide,

with just our thoughts, 

and the wind in the trees. 

Go away world - I don't want you right now!

Leave us to hide away,

I need to engage with the silence of this place,

and explore these unaccustomed corners I now find.

I need to see the sun set over the bay,

and its orange sky.

I need to explore the silence of that fishing boat,

I need to dive into this unfamiliar peace,

these sounds normally unheard in my modern world 

and then...

...then I need to take this with me and keep it forever.

Cottage

A cottage.

Thick walls and small windows - protection against the harsh winters.

A functional building,

simple,

practical,

built from that which was found locally.

No frills,

no electricity,

no light at the flick of a switch

just a simple hand-crafted existence.

Water from a well

a garden for growing food

a stable for keeping animals

everything built with a purpose  within a shared community,

traditions,

resources, 

all working as one.

At the heart of the cottage,

a traditional range

fueled by wood sourced locally, 

where the food was cooked 

and water boiled to wash the souls of those who called this place home.

These folk knew nothing of the holiday cottage principle,

that people would rent the cottage for a week or more,

for sums of money the original occupants could have never imagined.

Modern requirements like full fibre broadband,

and every gadget a modern kitchen requires.

That now it would become just a base for tourists to explore an island,

with a huge double bed and soft furnishings,

for lazy days and lye-ins,

tea and toast in bed!

...something the original occupants would never have!