The Compostual Existentialist

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Ho Lee Dai Part 3

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Further holiday adventures

I swear, I’m sure you’ll get bored of this before I do.

Welsh Beer = Sheep Piss

The evening after the cycle trip was again spent sat round a campfire reading Buried while the serenity of the Welsh Countryside went about its business. Sticking with things Welsh, I imbibed this delightful ale from a local brewery.

And now I will have to kill you for looking upon this secret facility, Mr Bond.

Next day was another glorious day. It was to be our last full day on the Llyn so we turned it into a beach day. Onward to Porth Oer. Porth Oer is sometimes known as the Whistling Sands. Legend has it that you can walk on the sands and they whistle. Something to do with the crystalline structure of the sand. Bollocks though it may be the beach is really clean and unspoilt. I say “unspoilt” but of course dreadful types had already started staking out claims to little shaded corners of the beach and their awful children were being frightful.

Never the less, it was interesting to watch the world go by from under the shade of a hat and sunglasses. One hideously awful family (Rowena, Georgie, Eliza, Gordon and Rupert) sat within earshot discussing willies and Uncle Harvey’s horse boxes while the mother of another dreadfully frightful family endevoured to stop her children from having fun (“Stop that Alfie you know your sister does not like to eat sand”, “Benjamin! Please dont run. You might fall and graze your knee!”,”No mum Alfie does not want an ice lolly he is allergic to ice remember”).

By midday the sun was threatening to turn my skin into pork crackling. I can not abide sitting on beaches doing nothing. I want to be active, swimming, walking, doing catalogue poses and the like. So using my skill of tactical moaning I managed to persuade Mrs Gnomepants that the beach was becoming far too overcrowded and hot for me and that a walk up the mountain would be sufficient to cool me down. And so it was we drove to Mynnedd Rhiw. You might recall that Mynnedd Rhiw is the mountain upon which my Uncle Nat had a cottage in the 80’s.
We parked in the “car park” of the secret government radar station and walked toward the radio mast and the neighbouring trig point, from where, the views are astounding!

After an evening meal we took to the top of Braich-y-Pwl once more and were rewarded by further stunning views.

The sun sets on the first leg of our holiday

Bardsey once more


The next morning we broke camp and headed off for the next leg of our holiday. Anglesey, Rhosnieger and beyond!

In part 4.

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Author: stegzy

Once, long ago, I wrote frequently on Livejournal. I then moved to Blogspot, where I discovered that blogging requires an audience. So I moved back to LJ. Then over to Dreamwidth, back to LJ, up the road of self hosting with Muckybadger before giving up entirely and moving over to Wordpress. It was at that moment I decided I would spread my compostual nonsense simultaneously across the blogosphere like some rancid margarine. And so here I am. I am a badger. But then I'm not really a badger. I am a human. With badger like tendencies. I am a writer, a film producer and a social commentator. I am available for Breakfast TV shows, documentaries and chats in the pub with journalists.

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