Its the early hours of the morning, I cannot sleep and the restless tossing and turning in a duvet grown too hot for nights ease has finally lost its battle. I am awake and i am sat here at my desk.Why blog now? because I can.!
Because for the first time in my life I am not filling out a diary with my thoughts and records of the day, for the very first time, I am 'blogging' my way through the night.
My home is unusual as a build. I do not have the every day 'normal' windows one associates with an apartment. I have sky windows, great scapes of glass that reveal what is in the heavens. Tonight it is the dark navy sky of a storm laden cloudscape. Here and there a star may beam for a short moment, casting a low light, just enough to see the angry clouds as they speed by. The moon is hidden or perhaps it is the dark of the moon. I have lost track of the moons travels recently. The wind is still loud and strong, more blustering than an honest howl, gusting across the land in fits and starts. A sudden lull eases the sounds I can hear then as suddenly as the silence decended, the wind hurls itself across the land once again.
It is impossible to look at the sea now. Mostly the moons light will let you view a glorious spread of sea with curling waves or the ilver shimmer that spreads across the seas limpid surface but not this night.
This night is black as can be, no light gives a peep into the view. I feel for the campers in this. Tourists travel miles to get here and when the weather turns like this there is no comfort and no shelter. We are a very small village, there is no large hotels, only small ones with rooms let well in advance of the season. Those campers who brave the night, do so with a hammer in one hand ready to beat down the tent pegs before the wind tears the walls of the tent from its moorings, or else they huddle together awaiting the disasters that can occur when the wind screams across the camping fields.
Most of the camp sites are down on the flats. My friend calls the flats 'little Holland. He lived in Holland for a while and has stated more than once how similar the land is down there at the bottom of the mountain. Its because it once was a sea bed. The coast line has changed dramatically over the last four hundred years. Once the sea came all the way up to the castles base, now it lies a good fifteen minutes walk from it.
I love this place with a passion, it is such a beautiful set of ancient buildings, some are spoilt with incongruous updates that are now monitered by C.A.D.W. the ruling body over all building in this National Park area. It has, in the main been a good thing they are here. Otherwise monumental eyesores would have been continued. As it is the student block to Coleg Harlech is due to be demolished. Thats good believe me. A huge sixties monstrosity of ap place with cement and pebble dash and sightless eyes of windows. Built on the primest most beautiful spot...dreadful eyesore and i can't wait for it to be gone. The Coleg itself is a mish mash of beautiful 'Harry Potter Hog Warts' and a modern theatre which as an addition to the building fails utterly to even slightly blend into the surroundings. A huge carbuncle of a building, unsightly and grotesque. That too is to be removed.
Once they are gone the new build will begin. The Coleg has beautiful history, one I will wrtite about another time. But it is definately a magical place.

Ah well, my eyes have begun to droop, my typing skills slowing and errors will occur. Time to sleep.