One of my Aunties lives in Wales, and has invited her two sisters for Christmas. I am so jealous. Christmas in Wales! Walks along the beach, through the hills, visiting the village pub, and on and on.
If you are not familiar with Dylan Thomas, you may want to pick up “A Child’s Chistmas In Wales”. It’s a short story, or long poem, about his childhood in Wales. I read it out loud every Christmas Eve. It’s a wonderful trip back in time with language that flows off the tongue (has to be spoken out loud) and paints images in the air. If you can read it in front of an open fire; it’s even better.
I imagine us going to a carol service or Nativity Play on Christmas Eve. Perhaps when we are leaving, snow flakes would be falling. We would all go back to my Auntie’s for hot drinks and mince pies.
After Christmas Dinner, we could clamber about one of the many castles in Wales, until our cheeks were red from the cold sea air. A mist would blow in from the Irish Sea covering the hills with a diaphanous cloak. All we would hear, would be the waves crashing in to shore.
I can’t begin to describe the beauty of Wales, at any time of year, but at Christmas, I think it would be magical…I can’t be there, but I can visit in my imagination, and it is wonderful. So I say it again, “I am jealous”.