Tag Archives: Wales

Beach huts (under the A55)

Saturday 20th May 2023, 11.40am (day 4,286)

Beach huts in A55, Penmaenmawr, 20/5/23

Penmaenmawr, on the coast of North Wales, must have been a notable holiday resort in the past. Apparently the Victorian Prime Minister, Gladstone, liked it so much he came for a stay year after year. Hard to imagine him (or Rishi Sunak) doing that now, however. The A55 trunk road came ploughing through in the 1980s, ripping apart town and beach, and based on my visit there today, Penmaenmawr has yet to recover, and probably will never do so.

Still, credit for a little initiative — these beach huts are embedded right into the wall that supports the road above, which must therefore have been built that way. So you could argue that they tried. It didn’t work, though. As a result, most likely this will be Penmaenmawr’s only ever appearance on this blog, but at least it is a colourful and sunny one.

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Pistyll Rhaeadr

Friday 1st July 2022, 9.45am (day 3,963)

Pistyll Rhaeadr, 1/7/22

Pistyll Rhaeadr may or may not be the highest waterfall across both Wales and England — the award depends whether you are troubled by the fact that it does not fall in a single drop. Either way it’s an impressive water feature, set off very well by the natural arch in the middle (seen here), through which the water threads like a curtain through a ring. Well worth seeing, despite being ripped off £5 for the car park. (For more pictures from today see my County Tops blog.)

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Under the rainbow

Thursday 30th June 2022, 9.10pm (day 3,962)

Llandyrnog rainbow, 30/6/22

Yeah yeah, so I didn’t go more than 5 weeks without a dose of football, and travelled to North-East Wales to get it (specifically the village of Llandyrnog, near Denbigh). But the sport is incidental here to the rainbow, which was exemplary, one of the best I have ever seen — a double rainbow lasting at least 45 minutes (the second half, in other words). The price was that everyone got a bit wet earlier on, but it was worth it.

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Flintshire Bridge

Saturday 19th February 2022, 1.55pm (day 3,831)

Flintshire Bridge, 19/2/22

Wales is the nearest bit of the world to my house that is not England. All the same, thanks to its particularly pervasive Covidnoia, it has only appeared three times on the blog in the last two years. One of these was as the background of the shot I took from the Wirral in January, and I think, in turn, that spot is the hill in the distance here. Connah’s Quay — which is where this shot was taken from — is a rather sad-looking place, oppressed as many electrical pylons as I’ve seen anywhere: shuttered up and closed down. The bridge rejects it too, taking people past it, not through it.

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Moel Famau summit

Saturday 19th June 2021, 11.40am (day 3,586)

Moel Famau summit, 19/6/21

Top of Flintshire, summit of the Clwydian Hills, Moel Famau appealed enough to the royalists of the early 19th century for them to begin building on it a tower to celebrate the Golden Jubilee of King George III. But this fervour clearly faded, and the construction was never finished. Nowadays it is just a place to rest after hauling oneself up to the 1,814 feet (554m) summit. But it looks good, and the view is magnificent. (For pictures of that, see my other blog.)

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Different country, same stuff

Wednesday 24th June 2020, 11.10am (day 3,226)

Welsh social distancing, 24/6/20

Doing this blog for nearly nine years has started to affect my behaviour. Today I decided that my record streak of English-only pictures had gone on quite long enough — specifically, 142 days. The nearest point from my house that lies in any other country is where the Welsh border crosses Bumpers Lane beside the Deva Stadium, Chester, which lies approximately 53 miles from my house as the crow flies. With nothing but reading and thinking to otherwise do today, I set out for it — and here is, more or less, the first scene that I saw after crossing into Wales at said point.

Looks a lot like England really, doesn’t it. I mean, social distancing an’ all. Hwyl anyway to my nearest unEnglish neighbours. And their dogs.

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Snowdonia (probably)

Thursday 23rd January 2020, 3.15pm (day 3,073)

Snowdonia cloudscape, 23/1/20

Up in the air again, from Manchester airport heading roughly north-west, though not very far (so if you want, you can deduce where I travelled to before I post from t/here tomorrow). Not long after take off, visual interest was added to the flight to the south, where this cloudscape revealed itself. I wasn’t sure at the time where this might be but a subsequent look at the map suggests the hills in the background must be Snowdonia, in the north-west corner of Wales. It’s the general golden wash that I like about this photo, however. Far better weather up there than down on the ground today — as is often the case, of course.

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Car crash (remote)

Friday 13th December 2019, 10.15am (day 3,032)

Dead car on path, 13/12/19

A car crash in a remote, forgotten part of Europe that probably happened three and a half years ago seems an adequate metaphor for the way things panned out today. This is a good sixty feet below the road. Maybe the occupants got out, but I actually suspect not.

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Election Day in Newport

Thursday 12th December 2019, 11.35am (day 3,031)

Election day, 12/12/19

As I type this there are 23 minutes left of voting in the third General Election day to feature on this blog. On all of them I have been away from home — I was in Dundee in May 2015 and Siberia just over two years later in June 2017. I had to get out from the conference venue today, there was no way I could stay in the antiseptic air-con of the Celtic Manor all day. But the prospects offered by Newport and the River Usk were grim. A dark day. If you see anything about today as heralding a bright shining future of some kind, I admire your optimism.

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The dragon watches

Wednesday 11th December 2019, 3.15pm (day 3,030)

Celtic dragon, 11/12/19

2019 has had a number of interesting work trips, at least, but this is the last of the year; my second visit to the Society for Research into Higher Education (SRHE) conference, which as it always is, is being held in the highly corporate Celtic Manor Hotel in Newport, south Wales. This hefty dragon sculpture stands somewhere in the complex, looking out over the M4, in case any passing motorists were tempted to wonder what country they were in. A sensation I am starting to sympathise with, in fact.

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