These were all taken on the weekend of my birthday (Jan 6th!), back in 2012. Barney & I took a trip to a very, very old farmhouse, in the depths of Snowdonia National Park. The house belonged to a friend of a friend of my dad - they didn't live in there themselves, so to keep it from going totally to ruin, they'd let people they knew stay there, from time to time.
No internet connection, no phone signal, no tv. No shops or neighbours nearby. There were mice living in the pantry & a hole in my bedroom ceiling. The bed was so rickety & ancient, I wondered if it'd give way overnight! The walls were thick but the window panes were thin & there was no proper heating, so entire house was freezing - save for the living room, which had a fireplace.
This was the view from the front garden (before the fog rolled in).
The weather was - as is usual for January (& pretty much every other month!) - in North Wales... damp - when it wasn't actually raining, it was misty & mirky. We wandered into the mountains & explored. I didn't get many photos because the weather closed in but gosh, what an incredible place. Like stepping back in time.
Absolutely magical trip... one I still look back on fondly, so many years later.
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Staying with some family friends in North Wales for a few months. Some digital studies from the last week!
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Abandoned miners cottages in a fisused slate quarry in Snowdonia, North Wales.
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Some of the best moments I have experienced have been those few seconds after looking up from being behind a lens. There truly is something worldly and human about watching the night come in.
hiadammarshall.com
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Tryffan is quite the gnarly mountain when looked upon from afar, but a fun one to climb! (With sheep of course)
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Mount Snowdon's name is officially changed after 5,000 sign petition - Mirror Online
I went on Google for something completely different, but this made me punch the air in jubilation, so you might be interested to see it too.
In case you're not familiar with the background, this is important because, despite rallying massively over the last 70 years or so, Welsh is still very much a language at risk. And when I say "at risk", I mean "subject to a campaign to drive it into extinction that very nearly worked and still might". Welsh speakers of my grandmother's generation and earlier were subjected to corporal punishment and shame tactics (see The Welsh Knot for one particularly notorious example), and workers to disciplinary action for speaking Welsh in school or workplace. In Wales.
And since tourism has been a huge source of income for the country (increasingly important, arguably, since so many coalmines and steelworks were shut down), using English placenames to be, I guess, less off-putting for visitors, has been increasingly the norm. Which means that the arguably far more beautiful (in Welsh or more directly translated into English) names are dying out, as locals forget them too.
One of the reasons I get quite passionate about this, is that I'm the last person in my family to speak Welsh much beyond the usual "good morning", "exit", and "welcome to Wales", and I'm a second language speaker at that, horrendously rusty. Another is, I guess, the guilt of the voluntary exile – what can I do but shout about it from far away and make occasional forays back to Duolingo's Welsh course?
Anyway, it's no longer Snowdon but Yr Wyddfa (Uhrr Wuthvah - th hard like though or that) and not Snowdonia but Eryri (Err-urree), emphasis always on the penultimate syllable (Yr WYTHfa, ErYri).
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