I’ve spent the last few days enjoying some down time in Anglesey at my sister’s place.  Hot tub.  Fields of green.  Searching, unsuccessfully, for red squirrels and generally chilling.

The nature of my “sit down for a long time and then struggle to get up” pain appears less significant than the last time I was here.  That said, I seem to have a series of aches and strains from feet, to left arm and most significant my right leg, hip and pelvis.

If, as the oncologist said, I have bone regrowth occurring where the cancer hammered me, it’s working in a strange way down that one limb.  Numerous different strains on a leg that’s struggling bit.  Nothing that the naproxen can’t handle though.  Nothing that has me panicking about tumour regrowth.  Not yet, anyway.

Yesterday, after another train ride up Snowdon a visit to Portmeirion was made.  I’ve never been before, thought the TV series “The Prisoner” was weird and according to my BMW’s sat nav the place doesn’t exist.

£12 later and we’re in.  Glorious sunshine beating down after a morning in the clouds.  Low tide, so a tiny channel wound itself through a mass of sands in the bay.  Buildings now converted to sell ice creams, overpriced gifts and other things.  Kids in a paddling pool.  A fenced off giant chess set.

Eventually we reached a hotel with a spare table outside.  It’s not often I pay £10.50 for a chicken sandwich but the setting over the bay and the weather made this an exception.  A mix of fabulous service and exceptional taste made it a lunch worth waiting for in a location worth enjoying.

The almost toy town buildings of the village could be seen as weird by some.  Somehow the location and Italian architecture brings out a charm that forces you to enjoy pottering around doing very little.

Then a slightly longer than expected drive home and an evening back in the hot tub. It’s a tough life for the unemployed.

The £28 USA Road Bill I’d Forgotten About