The Tarot’s Six of Cups evokes nostalgia, places, things and people of happy times, childhood, simple things, people and pets at play. It may be forecasting a return to an old haunt, or the re-appearance of an old friend. Drawn reversed, upside down, it might be saying don’t go back. There is no nourishment there for you at this time. As LP Hartley famously said in the opening of his novel, ‘The Go-Between‘…’the past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.’
The dramatic limestone headland of the Great Orme separates the largely Edwardian seaside town of Llandudno from the drama of the Conwy Estuary just round the corner, with its stupendous castle and walled town.
The technology pedigree of this area is quite something, from the ancient copper mining, to the Iron Age forts, to Edward I‘s castle, to the building and embarkation of The Mulberry Harbour used in D-Day, and in recent times, the conversion of a railway tunnel at Caernafon that become a road tunnel. (We won’t dwell on the overflowing sewage problems it’s had at some times)
The Orme- a Viking name meaning Serpent- is like a children’s wonderland.
It’s all going on! To appreciate the Serpent, drive around the base…the marine drive is 4km long around the base. Merlin, eat your heart out. And Tolkein as well.
A small road peels off left heading uphill, passing a chapel on its way to the summit. At the grassy knolly summit, just asking to be rolled and played on, cable cars glide overhead, people sit smiling, chugging along on what is surely the shortest train journey ever, from the station the few hundred yards to the stop at the cable car cafe.
Plenty of business happening here.
A neolithic copper mine is set in a great hollow on the summit. Walk or drive down into it, walk on wooden bridges, look down into the ancient industrial excavations, put out of business in the Iron Age.
Coming back down from the summit to rejoin the marine drive, the chapel’s chuchyard tilts so steeply, and the dead can see the sea so up close and personal you feel they might all tumble in.
Asian families were out in force picknicking,celebrating Eid. A small girl dressed in pink and coral, smiling shyly, put her hands in prayer position and bowed a holiday greeting as our car went past.
Those naughty kashmir goats…where would we spot them this time? Driving out again next day at sunset, we had a goat lottery…no prizes, just a guessing game. How many goats would we spot on the marine drive?
My husband said 4, my daughter said 7, I said 11 plus but rounding the very last bend, we still hadn’t potted a single goat and we had never yet seen them at this point on the route, so far round. Not a goat in sight. Oh hang on. Yes! Hallelujah. There they were, resting or grazing in the apricot light as they faced the setting sun over Anglesey.
13 goats. Only two pictured here, but they are quite some characters.
I was unbearably triumphalist, but still, my neck was not wrung and I’m here to tell the tale. Simple things are so often the best things, and so are the silly things, sometimes.
“Most of us don’t need a psychiatric therapist as much as a friend to be silly with.”- Robert Brault.
Wear your warm coat but in clement weather, this place is like some child’s imaginary world.
In stormy weather, the light is strange, the echoes speak.
- Birthday tram’s trip back in time (bbc.co.uk)
- Trail closed for aggressive goats to reopen Monday (mynorthwest.com)