ei Newydd is a constant in my life. A place that gives us so much pleasure. Some people are well-travelled and that’s great; I’m not, and that’s fine too. The time had come to return to this place which means so much to me.The journey started a bit later than usual, though with the usual stops. The weather brought showers and a bit of a chill compared to late. Leading up to the trip, I had a feeling of dread that I just couldn't shake off. Then it happened: a warning light appeared on the dashboard—a stop/start system fault. After checking a load of online resources, it looked like some sort of sensor glitch. At least, I hope that's right. We had no choice but to keep going and hope for the best. The car is still driving fine, so I have no option but to trust it, though it still gives me flashbacks to last year's issues.
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| Magnus at Llyn Tegid |
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| Magnus finding true relexation in our caravan |
We've taken it slow for the first few days, as trying to switch off has been challenging this year. Our first proper outing was a visit to Dylan the tattooist on Sunday morning at Inc Cymru, whom we met last year, for a bit of Welsh body art. This year, I decided to go for a symbol of Welsh folklore—the Mari Lwyd.
The Mari Lwyd is a striking and slightly eerie Welsh winter custom with deep, ancient roots celebrated around Yule. The ritual centres on a horse's skull decorated with colourful ribbons, bells, and glass eyes, mounted on a pole and carried by a person hidden beneath a white sheet. A troupe of revellers takes the Mari from house to house, engaging in pwnco—a lively, improvised battle of rhyming Welsh poetry and witty insults with the inhabitants through the locked door. It's kind of like an ancient rap battle. If the householder loses, the Mari gets invited in to drink all the beer.
Morticia's friend was travelling around Wales and decided to pop in and see us, which felt quite strange for me. You see, I always feel like home and this noddfa exist in two entirely separate realms; when anyone crosses over from the other, it feels like a bit of a glitch in the matrix—odd and out of place. Maybe I'm just a bit over-protective of this place because it is so special to me? But it is always interesting to see how others react to our happy place.
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| Me outside Afon Mêl |
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| Morticia on Dolau beach |
The spirit of the Urban Viking—and the occasional absurdity of navigating the modern world—lives on in my webcomic, Northman. Join him on a Welsh adventure. 
You can read the latest chapter here:







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Have a wonderful time in this old land.
ReplyDeleteThank you, I am definitely in the right place.
DeleteThe postcard is delightful. So good to hear you're getting what you need in old Cymru. I note with approval that Magnus and I share the same relaxation style. May your souls continue to find refreshment...
ReplyDeleteThank you, I love the old style postcards of my youth - sadly lost to the movement of technology. Magnus gets so much out of this place, same as we do.
DeleteYewt again, that was me above. Forgot to sign in again...
DeleteI guessed as much 😉
DeleteThanks for taking us to your special Welsh place. I imagine that there are Welsh people who escape to Yorkshire to find themselves. I always think that if you are woken by battering rain in a caravan, just thank your god that you are not in a tent! I am already looking forward to your next Welsh bulletin... "The Sons of Glyndŵr surrounded us, prodding me with their sharp sticks as they chanted menacingly in Welsh and warned me to bugger off back to Yorkshire or else..."
ReplyDeleteIf there's an exchange programme I'll gladly sign up. After all these years my Welsh brothers welcome me and I would love to join them in this land.
DeleteThe postcard is very creative.
ReplyDeleteMagnus is adorable. I am glad you made it back safely.
Thank you my friend.
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