Observations from a Hill

Pictured, The Sun at Llanengan as it is these days after its minor refurb to bring it into line with the current Robinson's corporate image a while back. However, mercifully, the pub itself has not been messed around with, and retains pretty much the same interior and old-school atmosphere that it always did from the very first days of our own patronage, some forty-four years ago. My parents had come down for a holiday with us and were staying at our then first proper, owned-by-us-home in Gerlan. Dad had just taken delivery of a new car and we headed down Pen Llŷn for a day by the sea. Having stopped at various places down the coast en route, we fetched up at the beach at Porth Ceiriad; always popular with surfers, these days. Much as it has been today, the weather was scorching - it was high summer then, rather than June, though - and by the time we made our way back to the village of Llanengan we were frankly frazzled and in dire need of a drink, so we hied forthwith to The Sun;...

  A pretty hot day here today again, but as always, the sea breeze mitigates the ferocity of Old Sol with a cunning deceit. We went down for our usual pilgrimage to Aberdaron today; i.e park up, go for coffee, read the paper, and then go for a couple of pints at the inestimable summer beering location of the rear terrace of Y Gwesty Tŷ Newydd; basking in Mediterranean-esque light and the gentle cooling zephyr under the shade of the clever retractible roof there. This pub has one of the best views out to sea on the planet, and serves a good selection of beers and ales, two of which are local and excellent. We haven't yet ventured a meal there but the food we saw being served looked the ticket, so we might just venture a bite there later in the week. Pictured, the grave of the poet R.S Thomas and Elsi, his wife, at the tiny but lovely church of St. Maelrhys, which we visited as is now our custom when we are down here. I bought yet another book of Thomas' poems from the church in ...

Pictured, the view down the strand at Criccieth from the top of the castle, before the thin cloud lifted and the sun came out. The temperature was already a humid 25˚C before noon, and by the time we made it back to the car somewhat frazzled and sunburnt an hour later, the mercury had briefly hit 30˚C before notching back a couple of degrees. Heading back into Abersoch, we were forced to seek refuge in a shady bar for cold beers and a read of the paper. The haze over the bay has returned this afternoon, taking some of the ferocity out of the sun, but I think a cold can of something might still be required sooner rather than later...

Well, the summer solstice arrived this morning, along with Fathers' Day. The boys came down from Ynys Môn to Llŷn to see us, bearing flowers and a card. We went over to Plas Yn Rhiw across Cardigan Bay, along the long, elegant strand of Porth Neigwl nestling under Mynydd Rhiw; the early C17th manor house and gardens that was the erstwhile home of the Keating sisters. The gardens were at their best: a long but surprisingly shallow horizontal plot to the front of the house; its lack of depth to the front disguised by clever landscaping and planting to convey an impression of a much larger garden. It's always a joy to behold, especially at this time of year, and an entirely organically managed affair. The house is currently closed until next spring for structural repairs, so we were guided to the small cottage down the hill, Sarn Rhiw, which was the tiny retirement home of the Welsh poet R.S Thomas and his wife, the painter Mildred Eldridge [Elsi], the glorious view from the garde...

We went down into Abersoch today for a wander about the little town. As Jane remembers her mother saying; a few decades ago, this was just a very sleepy little fishing village at the very western edge of North Wales that had just one tiny general store with counter service only, and men in cow-gowns serving the mostly Welsh-speaking public. These days the place fills up in late June with tourists mostly interested in sea and strand, and sporting and boating activities. Many, many of these tourists are wealthy by any normal standards, and the wealthier among them often own boltholes of their own in the area, used only for a couple of weeks in the summer and which remain shuttered but maintained for the rest of the year.  Today you couldn't move but for exotic and stupidly expensive automobiles, the most ridiculous of which was similar to the one pictured, an Aston Martin SUV in British Racing Green. A more ludicrous concept I cannot imagine, given that AM Lagonda is synonymous with...

Back down here in our regular bolt-hole rental in Pen Llŷn for a few days. We drove down via Tremadoc under leaden skies and through intermittent rain to be welcomed by a brief spell of bright sunshine and blue skies, which rapidly gave way to the above scene. Still, the forecast for the next week looks set to be for some hot and sunny weather, so here's hoping: we've hedged our bets on the clothing front so we don't get caught out too badly; and anyhow, the point of the break is really just for the change of scenery: Pen Llŷn really is that different to where we live in the mountains, just shy of an hour away from here. We plan on doing plenty of exploring tomorrow while there's just the two of us here, anyway, so lounging around in the sun is really not on the cards anyway. When the others join us in their various teams [I exaggerate: couples]: first for Fathers' Day on Sunday, and then on Monday, we'll tailor our activities to suit. Whatever, I'll keep yo...