Archives for posts with tag: Welsh

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Remembering the dancing from last night.
Driving. To Wales.
Our beautiful hostel. In Wales. In an old church with a fire and a hot tub and stained glass windows.

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Haircut. At a fraction of the usual price.
The Welsh landlord from the Welsh pub recognised me on the street and said hello. I’ve only been into the pub three times.
I bought even more fabric. Whoops. And then spent the afternoon sewing. I made another T-shirt and turned a big top into a vest.

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Dealing out a pack of cards and finding this in my hand. What the what? Is this an American thing?
Hearing the Welsh accent. It’s so lovely.
Four Weddings and a Funeral