Historic Town, Historic Pub

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We went to Caernarfon today for a wander about, as we'd not done so for a while. The county town of Caernarfonshire as was and of the larger Gwynedd today - so renamed after the much older independent region of North Wales, used to be, frankly, a bit of a dump with little to commend it apart from the castle, the town walls and some fine late georgian and early Victorian town houses; riven in two as it was [blog posts passim] by the pointless 1960s elevated road system which achieved precisely zero in traffic congestion alleviation terms at great civic expense, to the profit of a select few in the know and also in cahoots: cf. Birmingham, Stourbridge, and many others. However, these days and for the most part, this is a place that's starting to show itself off anew, to its best, whilst keeping improvements subtle, and not denying its long and storied part in Wales' history [Hanes Cymru].

What is particularly pleasing about the place is that it is still very much a working town, as it always was, and the current spit and polish doesn't seek to hide or suppress the daily business of the place, unlike so many other historic towns that seem to ossify under the weight of 'heritage' and history, becoming sterile museums to a dead past to satisfy the prissy needs of gentrification. After an hour or so's perambulations, we decided to spend the last of our allotted parking time having a pint of Bass in The Black Boy Inn on Northgate Street, a sixteenth-century tavern opened in 1522; which I have frequented more than a few times in the near forty-five years I've lived in the area, particularly in the days of my playing chess for The Bull Inn, Bethesda, in the local league.

Unlike most of the teams in the league, Caernarfon's had the irritating habit of holding matches in a community room without any form of bar; which for those of us from pub teams was a bit of a downer, to say the least. I for one, on one memorable evening, got desperate at around ten o'clock, stuck in a winning, but very congested middle game and offered my opponent a totally unexpected draw out of nowhere so we could all get to the nearest pub - unfortunately not the excellent Black Boy, but the nearest spit and sawdust to the rooms - so we could all down a couple of pints before shut taps. A sacrifice worth making, in my book. Anyhow, I can only recommend Caernarfon today and its hostelries - particularly the Black Boy - for a visit to all. Hwyl!

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