Hardd Hafan Hedd


I’m a lucky boy there’s no doubt of that.

Another week away with Mrs Weir, this time in the North of Wales, staying on the fringes of “the finest seaside resort in Western Europe” – according to an unattributed quote supplied by the local council. And although I can’t say I’ve been to every one of Europe’s many seaside resorts, I’ve been to more than a few and in this instance I’m largely in agreement that Llandudno more than deserves such praise. Anywhere that provides a pier, a promenade and Britain’s only cable-hauled public road tramway (operating since July 31st 1902) is alright by me.

As well as a number of holiday snaps I also tried to remember to take some field recordings, (I can’t think of what the audio equivalent of a snap is so I use the term advisably). I don’t know whether it’s because I’m so used to taking and looking back over photographs but the audio recordings seem so much more evocative than the visual ones. (That said as a disclaimer they were all made on my mobile telephone and as such are of wildly differing quality and volume).

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