Post-Apocalypse Anglesey 2021 – Day 1 (and 0)

A day of contrasts, here in Cemaes Bay, on the northern coast of Anglesey.

After a grotty 3h journey yesterday, where we averaged around 40mph due to traffic, collisions & roadworks, (the immature highlight of which was a diversion down Penisaf Avenue in Towyn), we arrived at our funky little “one up, one down” cottage on the harbourside.

An orientation stroll before tea, then I earned my pie tea, by walking the full distance to the pub, all on my own.

I was sat in the beer garden, acclimatising, whilst Jane & Charlie did the same at the cottage. The breeze picked up and I got a tad chilly, so I shouted across and asked Jane to bring my hoodie when they came across.

Decent wholesome food done, and back to the cottage for an early night after the furthest I’ve driven in 18months, due to the pandemic & lockdown.

Saturday. Late start, then later factoring in Charlie, before leaving our temp accom for the week.

Our home for the week.

A moochy walk, then rain, then sitting in our van watching the rain, then a more-jaunty walk towards two decommissioned nuclear reactors, then a “get back to feed Toby”, stopping off 50yds from our door to see a fella land his catch.

Watching the rain from the ‘Van.

Who the * (apart from non-fishy folks), wouldn’t want a massive 2.5kg of fresh-onto-the quayside, line-caught sea bass for under £40, when Waitrose Dutchy sell it for £30+ a kilo, filleted and rubbed with pepper and veg. Someone tried to haggle the fisherman, bless ‘em.

Don’t even get me started on the lobster & crab! Doubt we’ll be going out Wednesday eve, when he next arrives.

A 2.4kg Sea Bass up for grabs

A nip “home”, then out for tea at a pleasant enough place with great service, decent food, but, tbh, lacking in decent beer.

All interrupted, towards the middle of main, by me thinking someone had dropped those lobster pots outside the pub front door [wafts hands].

Innocence personified.

Turns out (look away now, if squeamish), it was a recurrence of an issue with Toby’s anal glands. Our near neighbours seemed to agree with my lobster pot assumption though, so I think we got away with one there.

Meal done, so just the simple matter of (Jane) donning appropriate protection & squeezing his arsehole surround (repeatedly) into a tissue, using the camper shower, shower gel, wipes etc to clean up, in the pub car park.

Fresh as a daisy, we all went back to our lovely cottage to watch a Netflix film about a man who was imprissoned for over 15 years at mainly Guantanamo Bay without charge, 7 of which were after his successful ‘innocent’ verdict & years of horrific torture.

Beer. Local.

Looking forward to tomorrow!

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