Lloyd George knew

He didn't know my father but he knew a fine place to be born, to live and to die on the remote coast of Gwynedd with the mountains of North Wales acting as an ever-changing backdrop to the flat.fields that border the sea.

I'm visiting my son who has been working and living at Ty Newydd, the historic small mansion that was the last home of the great Welsh politician. He died in its library in 1945 and is buried just a short distance away in an oak grove above the river Dwyfor as it enters the village of Llanystumdwy where he was born. The house is approached through and surrounded by huge oak and beech trees but to the rear looks out over the sweep of Cardigan Bay and the Snowdon mountain range. 
[It's hard here to avoid using words like 'nestle', 'vista', 'majestic' but since the house is now a literary centre one feels one should try harder.]

 I followed the Dwyfor down to the sea through the low-lying sheep pastures until the fresh water merged with the salt on a shore of shingle and rocks. A heron lifted off the estuary and oyster catchers patrolled the sand. In the distance the ruins of Criccieth castle could be seen cresting the town. I headed inland again via footpaths until I found myself right back in the garden of Ty Newydd where Gwyn and Erin were cooking risotto for a party of teenagers on a writing course. Later we had some too but the strawberries that followed had all gone.

I have added a bunch of pictures that illustrate some of the things I've mentioned if you fancy scrolling through: the house, the grave memorial, the river, the coast.

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