Welsh Wales

I’m having a long weekend in North Wales. And, despite previous panics and deliberations (which you can read about here) I couldn’t be happier.

I love North Wales dearly, have done ever since I was a kid. It’s so green and mountainous and vast. It’s where lamb comes from (sometimes). I love lamb, it’s my absolute favourite meat. I love the Welsh accent. I love Welsh words and spellings that seem to make no sense and have not enough vowels in them. We came across a rather delightful road sign a couple of years back – Pant Cudd. It means hidden dip, rather than the rude dirtiness me and hubby conjured up. We say it every time we go Wales.

I love the rivers, and waterfalls, and castles. I love the grey stone with which many of the villages are built. I love the barrenness of mountain landscapes where it seems nothing can survive, and then you see a random sheep all on it’s own (and wonder how the hell it got up there?!) I love dry stone walls, the technique of which is apparently a dying art. I love the slate quarries and the steam railway and the mirror like lakes.

Ah, Wales. I’m excited to be in you!

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