TO BALDLY GO...

CYMRU, CEI NEWYDD AND CROSSOVERS

2026-06-10T00:15:31.162+01:00

ei Newydd is a constant in my life. A place that gives us so much pleasure. Some people are well-travelled and that’s great; I’m not, and that’s fine too. The time had come to return to this place which means so much to me.

The journey started a bit later than usual, though with the usual stops. The weather brought showers and a bit of a chill compared to late. Leading up to the trip, I had a feeling of dread that I just couldn't shake off. Then it happened: a warning light appeared on the dashboard—a stop/start system fault. After checking a load of online resources, it looked like some sort of sensor glitch. At least, I hope that's right. We had no choice but to keep going and hope for the best. The car is still driving fine, so I have no option but to trust it, though it still gives me flashbacks to last year's issues.

Magnus at Llyn Tegid

Magnus finding true relexation
in our caravan

We've taken it slow for the first few days, as trying to switch off has been challenging this year. Our first proper outing was a visit to Dylan the tattooist on Sunday morning at Inc Cymru, whom we met last year, for a bit of Welsh body art. This year, I decided to go for a symbol of Welsh folklore—the Mari Lwyd.

The Mari Lwyd is a striking and slightly eerie Welsh winter custom with deep, ancient roots celebrated around Yule. The ritual centres on a horse's skull decorated with colourful ribbons, bells, and glass eyes, mounted on a pole and carried by a person hidden beneath a white sheet. A troupe of revellers takes the Mari from house to house, engaging in pwnco—a lively, improvised battle of rhyming Welsh poetry and witty insults with the inhabitants through the locked door. It's kind of like an ancient rap battle. If the householder loses, the Mari gets invited in to drink all the beer.

Morticia opted for a dolphin image to celebrate the more popular inhabitants of this bay. Whilst she was in the chair getting hers done, I ended up chatting to Dylan's friend Barry about dogs, local issues, and music—turns out he had been a musician in a death metal band back in the day. With both of our new tattoos sorted, the rest of the day was taken up dodging showers, catching up with old haunts, and sampling the local Welsh ales.

Morticia's friend was travelling around Wales and decided to pop in and see us, which felt quite strange for me. You see, I always feel like home and this noddfa exist in two entirely separate realms; when anyone crosses over from the other, it feels like a bit of a glitch in the matrix—odd and out of place. Maybe I'm just a bit over-protective of this place because it is so special to me? But it is always interesting to see how others react to our happy place.

Me outside Afon Mêl

Morticia on Dolau beach

We took her first to Afon Mêl, the local honey farm where the best bees in Cymru hang out. It's also famous for its mead. If you've been to any Viking festivals or events, there's a good chance Afon Mêl were there selling the best meads around.

Then we headed down into the bay for some beach fun with our respective dogs, a drink in the Quayside bar, and chips from the excellent Lime Crab. Following a bit of a break, we went out in the evening for a few drinks in the park bar.

So, does she get it? I think she probably doesn't quite get the appeal, but that's ok. It's the thing about this place—there isn't much in the way of mainstream entertainment, and we don't get up to much while we're here. For us, though, it’s definitely not about that. The sheer quietness of it, the relaxation, and the chance to completely unwind and disconnect from our 'other' life is where the true magic lies.

Once we were back into our own swing, we dropped in on the Penrhiwgaled Inn for a quiet afternoon sup. Later on, we had tea (the meal, not the drink) in the Pencwnc club, followed quite unexpectedly by their weekly quiz.

We came second—not a bad result at all, if I do say so myself!

Thankfully, we had made it safely back to the caravan before the weather changed and a deluge started. It is still going strong now. I always love the sound of rain on a caravan roof, but this has turned into a massive thunderstorm with heavy hailstones. Thor is definitely making his presence known tonight.

Before I close off this first part I made a promise, so here it is...

...the postcard I promised. A bit of original illustration superimposed on a genuine vintage card. I'll hopefully be covering the second part of my trip next week. Until then I have fish and chips to eat, Welsh ales to drink and relaxing to do.

The spirit of the Urban Viking—and the occasional absurdity of navigating the modern world—lives on in my webcomic, Northman. Join him on a Welsh adventure.

You can read the latest chapter here: northman.kirt.me.uk

I’ll be sharing more of my journey across the country and my time in my happy place over on social media. Join in:

TO BALDLY GO...

CYMRU, CEI NEWYDD AND CROSSOVERS

THE MISTRESS IN THE WEST

THE GODDESS OF PARK HILL

SUN BAKED AND SWEATY

CELEBRATING ATREUS

THE EXCRUCIATING WAITING GAME

CRUNCH TIME

BREAKING THE SILENCE: THE TECTONIC SHIFT

CURTAIN UP ON ANOTHER YEAR

STEEL BONES AND STERILE AISLES

PENSIONERS, POLISHED PLATES, AND PROPER CHATS

PAVEMENTS, PYJAMAS, AND PERMANENT ADDRESSES

MYTH OF THE QUIET HOUSE

THE VIKING IN YOUR KITCHEN

THE VOICE WITHIN - A CARTOON STORY

THE CHARIOT OF MÀNI: BEARING WITNESS

VICTORY OF THE LIGHT: SIGRBLÓT, CERNUNNOS, AND THE CRICKET CLUB

MECHANICAL INVADERS OF SHEFFIELD

BONDS OF IRON OVER GEARS OF STEEL

THE FUTURE'S ORANGE

SURVIVING THE "A" BOMB

THE RELUCTANT SOCIALITE

MOTHERS: THE ARCHITECTS OF THE HEARTH

CHAOS IN A SMALL SPACE BY THE HEARTH FIRE

PROJECT: HIGH CONTRAST ARMOUR