Is Bara Brith a cake or a cave?
The Lleyn Peninsula; Bramhall by the Sea, the Cheshire set on Holiday. Like Gaul against the Empire. We are the Didsbury set in Wales. This makes me Obelix, Didsbury Son Asterix and Didsbury Wife Chief Vitalstatistix.
They call it Cheshire by the Sea because there are a paucity of decent delis and coffee shops and it’s expensive. But we love it. After M20, the A487 and the route from Conwy to Aberdaron contains many of my favourite places, memories and landmarks. The view from The Plas Glyn-y-Weddw across the bay is San Senastianesque; the crabbing on Abersoch beach sublime and the dressed crab near Whistling Sands worth breaking any diet to indulge.
There is a lay-by on the A470; just near Caernarfon (great Chinese in the square next to the castle) where everyone in the car takes a collective breath out and the blood pressure drops by 20-30 points.
The Caribbean is OK. But the weather lacks the diversity and uncertainty of The Lleyn. Yesterday Didsbury Son and I spent the day in shorts digging a hole that was joyfully pointless and therapeutic in equal measure. Today we are under 3-4 levels of clothing staring at the rain between us and crazy golf.
There’s also the cuisine. Fields of lambs chewing grass and fresh vegetables growing with freedom and we have already managed to have chips in paper, polystyrene and on a plate.
We have trips to a forest, on a boat and to a royal pub planned. Didsbury Son is painting stones and dreaming of fish we will catch and I… I am going to read the whole of a newspaper and not check my emails for 48 hours; happy days.
The picture follows our trip to a camping shop to buy Didsbury Son a coat, we were distracted and then lured into buying this ludicrous snood-type thing that would have made a Premiership footballer baulk.
NB: we are in no way denigrating Bara Brith, which is delicious and goes well with Welsh Tea and Butter