We headed north on our summer holidays this year to visit the tribes of North Wales. The idea was to visit Anglesey, a place we had been denied access on a previous visit by an over turned lorry. The selected accommodation in Criccieth looked great in the online pictures and on this occasion the photos did not lie. The place was huge and immaculate with stunning views of the sea. Our hooded teenage monster grunted his approval and thrust his tablet at me and demanded wi-fi which, as any parent knows, is as important as oxygen to the young these days.
A first day walk along the beach set the pattern for the holiday with demands for me to calculate equations of distance v time, to which the apparent answer is framed in units of misery. We set off walking on sand, my objective a rocky promontory in the far distance. The mood was only enhanced by the rhythmic chorus of ‘Can we turn back now?’. It was with great joy that we reached our way point only to discover that the incoming tide had pretty much covered the sand and we were forced to return on pebbles.
Why no one has not yet come up with an exercise machine based on such a surface I know not – or rather I do, it’s because it really is not very pleasant. As we trudged back, the percussive sounds of our footsteps were accompanied by a chorus of ‘I told you so’ and adoption of a stick as a weapon. I can’t entirely blame the boy as it is in his DNA; I remember his mother selecting similar tactics on a beach in Australia many years ago. If one day, I should not return from a family outing and the reason given is that I accidentally fell off a cliff edge, a pier or into a river, I urge that the witnesses are questioned closely.
I thoroughly enjoyed the holiday, though it followed much the same pattern for the remainder of its duration. The boy was dragged to Anglesey, Port Merion, Criccieth Castle, Beaumaris Gaol, the National Slate Museum and any number of fine beaches. My wife and I loved the Llŷn Peninsular and the magnificent house we stayed in – wish that it was for sale.
The highlight of the holiday though was when we stopped for supplies in Criccieth and, rather than shop, the boy selected to stay in the car. Now I swear this was an accident but, as I retrieved some bags from the back of the car, I closed the boot and automatically locked it, setting the alarm. My wife and I then spent a pleasant 15-20 minutes perusing the High St until our return to the car where to my surprise the hazard lights were flashing. Upon unlocking the car, a rather disgruntled teenage boy asked ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Apparently the alarm went off four or five times and he’d discovered you have keep very, very still to avoid tripping it. The family sitting on a bench nearby eating ice-creams seemed remarkably unconcerned and really I hardly laughed at all.
We might give the boy a break from holidays next year if he does well in his exams, oh and I love him really. Anyway here are some snaps taken with an Fuji X Pro -1 and toned with an Aged Photo preset in Lightroom