Unfortunately, the bus driver doesn’t understand my pronunciation of Abergwyngregyn, so I’m reduced to saying ‘the next village please’. We hurtle along the A55, The North Wales Expressway, before veering off into Abermumblewhatever.
I walk out of the village and pass a police car parked on the verge of a deserted country lane in the middle of nowhere. What rural crime have I committed? I try not to look guilty, wondering why police cars always have that effect on me. Half a mile later I discover I’m going the wrong way and turn back, only to discover the police car is still there. Is it just my imagination, or does the officer give me a long, hard stare? Continue reading →