According to Wikipedia the word holiday originates from the Old English, hāligdæg (hālig “holy” + dæg “day”). This year coincided with Spring Bank holiday, school half term and Whit Sunday. In my diary only Spring Bank holiday is identified. As a child brought up as a Methodist, Pentecost was special because the Holy Spirit – which included the ability to speak in tongues – descended on Jesus’ remaining disciples.
When we arrived at Barmouth Bay, it was gloomy. The weather forecast wasn’t good. I wasn’t looking for a holy day in the traditional religious sense, but time to slow down and reflect. I planned to connect to the promised free Wifi without the writing demands I place on myself.
The next morning a stroll along the pebbled beach. No Wifi. Occasional periods when it wasn’t raining.
Slowly the weather improved. We adjusted to not planning what to do. We had no chores, so we explored the coast using the train. Barmouth, Morfa Mawddach, Criccieth, Porthmadog. We followed the Ysgethin River to the burial chambers. Eating our sandwiches we were surprised when a child appeared out of the mist tearing between rocks on a motor bike. He veered wildly towards us, just about kept his balance and sped towards the gate. A few moments later, his parents arrived on foot.
Every day, we walked 7 or 8 miles and we became fitter and more relaxed. At home, we select flat routes. In this part of Wales, at the foot of Cader Idris, we had little choice but to climb.
We went across the railway bridge twice. Once on the train. Once walking against a blustery wind. The bridge was closed last year while repairs were done. It’s Grade II listed, carries the Cambrian line across the river estuary. The views are amazing in both directions. The Fairbourne steam railway is a mile away.
What I loved was: 1. the expanse of Barmouth Bay. I don’t know anywhere at home that has such broad generous views. 2. the atmosphere on the caravan site which for the most part was happy. Sandcastles were built on the beach whatever the weather. Ditto ice cream eaten. 3. A day with no plans, no expectations and time to enjoy ourselves.
Reading:
All My Wild Mothers – Victoria Bennett – I re-connected with the wild flowers on the edge of roads, paths and railways.
If Women Rose Rooted – Sharon Blackie I’ve read books like this before. My favourite being Women who Run with the Wolves – Clarissa Pinkola Estées. This one though has stories set in UK, which is interesting.
Welshpool Poetry Festival is on 8th June. I used my i-phone to join Jonathan Davidson’s poetry course linked to that festival for 2 hours on zoom Wednesday evening. Another interesting evening.
The Wren, the Wren – Anne Enright. I found this quite difficult to get into though I’ve enjoyed her previous novels. Back at home, I’ll read her slowly as if on holiday. No rush, no expectations.
No Facebook, very little Substack and only X (formerly twitter) to be entertained by John Crace.
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