Monday, 31 August 2015


Later we moved to a different cottage nearer the centre of Borth. It was called Sŵn-y-Don, ‘Sound of the Waves’. It shared a wall with another cottage: Sŵn-y-Mor: ‘Sound of the Sea’. It was nearer the shops, the bus stop and railway station.
In those days there were few holidaymakers, fewer cars, and no day-trippers. There was rough pasture in the marshy ground behind the village. But most cottages faced the sea. There was no natural shelter from the prevailing wind and waves, and the sea wall had not then been built. Pulled up on the stony beach above the high-water mark were a handful of wooden fishing boats. On the green above the beach was a huge pair of rusty cart-wheels from which a boat could be suspended and pushed in or out of the water.
The sea was incessant, day and night, Summer or Winter. Always there were the calls of the wheeling gulls and the never-ending sound of the waves. Sometimes I thought I could hear bells under the ocean.

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