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Welsh dreams

February 27, 2013

I like this photo because at first glance it isn’t immediately obvious what’s reflected and what’s real. You have to look at it properly. It was taken a few summers ago in the Brecon Beacons, from a steam train. We were on our way to Pembrokeshire, although not by steam train. That was a digression, much like this is.

Today’s prompt is if you could live anywhere….

This is easy. I would have a bigholding – it’s like a smallholding, only bigger.

It needs to be bigger to accommodate a small herd – a flock? – a cloud? – a fluff? – of alpaca. Along with a nice big veg patch, chickens in an orchard and ducks on a pond. There would be an octagonal library, with turrets. And a fibre studio that, among its other delights, plugged into some kind of alternate dimension where you never run out of exactly the kind of yarn that you remember seeing that one time, and definitely absolutely have to have some of, right now.

I think it would be in Wales. Wales is nice. And the Welsh would like me, even though I’m English, because of some charming reason I haven’t thought of yet. Maybe because I’d finally solve the conundrum of what the collective noun is for a group of alpaca. I imagine the Welsh worry about that constantly. I know I do.

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