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St. James


Fabulous: if you don't mind being the only on at the beach in a costume and adorned with your front teeth.

St. James is no Llundudno - kids run past, decorating you with the sand from their feet and babies cry ALOT. The two old women sitting under their umbrella, debate whether their sweets are sour or not. But the tidal pool is great and the beach not too big, so you can soak while keeping a close eye on your bags.

Aesthetically it's quite quaint. Floating in the tidal pool, crashing waves and shrieking children in the background - multicoloured huts face the sea, weathered by the sand and wind and stickied by many ice-creamed fingers.

The women sit cackling on the wall of the pool, rocking back and forth with the waves. Sometimes their bodies succumb to the push and pull of the ocean, other times just their tummies. The latest see-through purple and green plastic hat imports fashioned.

Stumbling, far from eloquently, and not because of the sand, dressed in blue, a lady makes her way towards her friends - perched on a rock by the water. She gets to the rock and falls over. A couple of words pass between the women. I'm not sure if she's explaining how much she's had to drink / they can already smell it / they're on the same level, but with a throaty, toothless guffaw she sits and joins them.

The older boys, bunking school, are distracted from other shenanigans by the dares from each other, to stand up to the waves, crashing against them and the back wall. Followed shortly afterwards by a belly-slapping frog dive.

To end off the trip and to celebrate the St. James society I went in search of a packet of Secret Flavour Papa Bites!


Lucky

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