Diary of a 54 year old man who fell hard on the rocks yesterday and fucked both of his hands, all of his ribs, and one of his legs.
6:30am. It is raining hard. I hurt. Dead people.
St Hywyn’s Church, Aberdaron
8:00am. Whistling Sands. I have put the seat down in the car, set the lumbar support to full, turned the heated seat to max and lain here as if in traction until the rain stopped. Finally went to explore. The sand doesn’t whistle when it’s wet. No pictures. Meh. Meh meh meh.
9:30am. Porthdinilaen. Via two ibuprofen, two paracetamol, a cup of tea, a creme egg, three fried eggs, three hash browns, mushrooms, beans and a tomato. Feeling a bit better as a result. Pictures.
Happy dog.
Showed this to the owners. They thought I was trying to sell it to them, or just that I was mad. The lurching and wincing didn’t help probably.
Anchor chain
Rust
Little seaweed stands up to the Irish Sea
12:00 Trefor. Meh. Can’t be arsed.
13:00 Back in Bangor. Let’s look at the pier before returning.
Gosh it’s irritating that those two are different sizes.
