During the summer holiday I fell in love! I got it bad and now, a month later, I am still showing all the danger signs. I can’t stop thinking back to the events of those few short weeks and running it all through my mind. I picture myself walking along the narrow road behind the boatyards, with glimpses of the harbour, on the day it all began and continuing on, never dreaming of what was about to unfold and the happy memories it would leave in its wake.
Before you wonder, I am talking about a place, not a person. My holiday romance occurred during my holiday in Wales this summer. I am still happily married and have not been engaging in flights of fancy or a mid-life crisis! The romantic interlude to which I am referring was indeed a holiday romance and an unexpected one, but it was not what you think.
The road in question led from Porthmadog harbour where we had parked the car, up a steep hill, past cottages and gardens. On the brow of the hill we stopped, wondering if we were wasting our time. There was still no real view of the sea or mountains, as we had been hoping. Maybe we had wasted our efforts and should have tried a different path. On impulse, we stopped a passerby walking her dog and asked her where the road led. It turned out to be one of her favourite walks, leading down to the pretty bay of Borth-y-Gest, only minutes away.
Sure enough, from the top of the hill an idyllic little bay awaited us, complete with wooded hillsides, an array of coloured boats on the sand, a stone harbour wall and, oh joy, a tearoom! I fell in love! The cove opened out onto an enormous vista of sandy estuary and a breathtaking backdrop of misty mountains. All around the cove seaside cottages nestled against the hillside, each of them with a stunning view out over the bay. What a place to live – a small slice of seaside heaven! The smell of seaweed, the scream of gulls and a view to die for right outside your front door.
There is an old Donovan song which I occasionally find myself humming during times of extreme, carefree happiness. It is a simple song, with a gentle melody, and it embedded itself firmly in my mind and heart on the day, back in the ‘70s, when I first heard it. “Happy I am” it begins. “All on the new day… People and flowers, Are one and the same” (a burst of subtle ‘flower power’ lyrics!)…”All in a chain, At the beginning of a new world.“ “Someone’s singing and I think it’s me” it goes on, “Someone’s singing and, oh gosh, it’s me!” There are many times in life when you anticipate happiness in the future: ‘I am so looking forward to our night out – I shall be very happy’ or reminisce about happy times in the past: ‘It was so wonderful being there’. But the times when we are conscious of being happy in the present are few and far between. We are less adept at stopping the clock in a moment of happiness and reflecting on it, it seems. But it happens. For me, our time in Borth-y-Gest was one of those rare times when I found myself humming Donovan’s tune and only a song of the heart, Donovan style, can record it:
Song for Borth-y-Gest
Smooth as can be
Slatey-grey rock,
Green-browney-green
Velvety moss.
Yellow bright flowers,
Hummocky hill,
Clover and plantain
Grow where they will.
Shoreline below
A vista of mud,
Gold-coloured lichen
And rock pools in flood.
Wait for the tide
Like the boats on the sand.
Tide’s in no hurry,
Got nothing planned.
Find myself humming;
A song’s in the air.
Find myself whisper
A thankfulness prayer.
The best thing about a holiday romance is the way it stays with you, lighting up those dark corners and turning up unexpectedly in your thoughts, allowing a smile to form on your lips, a lightness in your step and a moment of joy to brighten up your day before it fades away into the mists of time. Love is like that.
Before you wonder, I am talking about a place, not a person. My holiday romance occurred during my holiday in Wales this summer. I am still happily married and have not been engaging in flights of fancy or a mid-life crisis! The romantic interlude to which I am referring was indeed a holiday romance and an unexpected one, but it was not what you think.
The road in question led from Porthmadog harbour where we had parked the car, up a steep hill, past cottages and gardens. On the brow of the hill we stopped, wondering if we were wasting our time. There was still no real view of the sea or mountains, as we had been hoping. Maybe we had wasted our efforts and should have tried a different path. On impulse, we stopped a passerby walking her dog and asked her where the road led. It turned out to be one of her favourite walks, leading down to the pretty bay of Borth-y-Gest, only minutes away.
Sure enough, from the top of the hill an idyllic little bay awaited us, complete with wooded hillsides, an array of coloured boats on the sand, a stone harbour wall and, oh joy, a tearoom! I fell in love! The cove opened out onto an enormous vista of sandy estuary and a breathtaking backdrop of misty mountains. All around the cove seaside cottages nestled against the hillside, each of them with a stunning view out over the bay. What a place to live – a small slice of seaside heaven! The smell of seaweed, the scream of gulls and a view to die for right outside your front door.
There is an old Donovan song which I occasionally find myself humming during times of extreme, carefree happiness. It is a simple song, with a gentle melody, and it embedded itself firmly in my mind and heart on the day, back in the ‘70s, when I first heard it. “Happy I am” it begins. “All on the new day… People and flowers, Are one and the same” (a burst of subtle ‘flower power’ lyrics!)…”All in a chain, At the beginning of a new world.“ “Someone’s singing and I think it’s me” it goes on, “Someone’s singing and, oh gosh, it’s me!” There are many times in life when you anticipate happiness in the future: ‘I am so looking forward to our night out – I shall be very happy’ or reminisce about happy times in the past: ‘It was so wonderful being there’. But the times when we are conscious of being happy in the present are few and far between. We are less adept at stopping the clock in a moment of happiness and reflecting on it, it seems. But it happens. For me, our time in Borth-y-Gest was one of those rare times when I found myself humming Donovan’s tune and only a song of the heart, Donovan style, can record it:
Song for Borth-y-Gest
Smooth as can be
Slatey-grey rock,
Green-browney-green
Velvety moss.
Yellow bright flowers,
Hummocky hill,
Clover and plantain
Grow where they will.
Shoreline below
A vista of mud,
Gold-coloured lichen
And rock pools in flood.
Wait for the tide
Like the boats on the sand.
Tide’s in no hurry,
Got nothing planned.
Find myself humming;
A song’s in the air.
Find myself whisper
A thankfulness prayer.
The best thing about a holiday romance is the way it stays with you, lighting up those dark corners and turning up unexpectedly in your thoughts, allowing a smile to form on your lips, a lightness in your step and a moment of joy to brighten up your day before it fades away into the mists of time. Love is like that.
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