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Uncharacteristically personal post. Delete if not allowed.

Definitely not a cry for help (I'm FINE), and not attention-seeking (well, no more than usual, any road) and I think I'm writing it to keep a record of it, and offload it:
Better out than in (as my dear, sweet, grandmother would say).

I've always loved an off-season seaside resort. I enjoy the melancholy vibe.
I particularly love this stretch of Welsh *checks* Cambrian coast; the location of many happy family holidays with my parents, brother, aunt, uncle, cousins, and Grandad Evans, who I adored: Funny, mild-mannered, generous: a true role model. He died when I was 12; the first human death I experienced.

I think of him often, in fact, every time I wash my face in cold water; something he did every night; he told me so in a holiday cottage not far from here, in Harlech; one of those trivial incidents and conversations which resonate for a lifetime.

I've been melancholic for a while, particularly in the last week, where the deaths of people have made me think of mortality. Not mine, particularly. Others.

I've come here for a short overnight break. Tonight, I shall watch the sunset, just me and my melancholy. I'm embracing it.

Then, we'll go to visit the pub where I tasted beer: my grandad's, for the first time. I didn't like it: clearly an acquired taste..

I'll see which fun-free beers are available, then, maybe via the curry house; to the B&B, with its single room, hectic carpet, and pavement view, for what I hope will be a good sleep.

Tomorrow, I shall visit Harlech beach, where a photo, taken in 1984 or thereabouts exists, of Grandad flying a kite, with me looking on with joy and love. I'll see if the ice cream shop is still open; I know the Castle Hotel isn't. It's the castle's gift shop now. I googled it.

Then, I'll return home, to those I love, thankfully, and resume normal service. Whatever that is. Probably something involving crisps. Or soup. DEFINITELY something with laundry.

💯 would recommend/hope that helps.

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