You know when you bring together two of your favourite things? When you deliberately cause a convergence for the purposes of extra-strength happiness? Well, that.
I’ve brought Dawes to Laugharne. She has, after all, listened to my incessant bleating (about Laugharne, not just in general, but to be fair quite a lot of that as well) for a good 18 months and I have piqued her curiosity sufficiently to persuade her to join me for the weekend. Oh, the kicking and the screaming. The veritable twisting of her rubber arm.
So here we are – just about still, as we have to go home today – sitting at my table in the Reading Room at Browns, being productive. For me, that’s writing THIS, in case you hadn’t realised. She is taking endless selfies, trying to find a good one because she’s been promised a slot in Browns Famous Clientele. That really does exist. Check their Facebook page if you don’t believe me.
During the last three days Dawes has met a lot of new people and, due to how notoriously bad she is at remembering names, the men of Laugharne have been rechristened. This is not necessary for the women as she always remembers them, but the males of the species each require a descriptive moniker, complete with the universal suffix of ‘Dude’. Plus, it’s just TOO funny. Are you ready? Here goes. We have: Pug Dude (owns a part-pug called Brian), Pelican Dude (lives in a house called the Pelican), Builder Dude and Baker Dude (self-explanatory), Next-Door Dude, Landlord Dude, Camera Dude (see ‘Toxic Twins’), Her Dude (his wife was there), Pink Dude, Northern Dude, Nobody-knows-Tall-Dude and, in a stroke of pure genius, All the Young Dudes, who is SO Young that he hasn’t the faintest idea what that even means. At present, we are hoping that a suitably feminine specimen will pitch up. Are you there yet? Yes? Of course you are. Dude Looks Like a Lady. (If all else fails, there’s one of them in Llanidloes. He looks divine in a frilly blouse, feather boa and sparkly eye-shadow – the heaven-sent ringlet-haloed love child of Jim Morrison and Marc Bolan – but that’s a whole other story). The women have been the best though. Natalie (the Platonic Ideal of barmaids), Nia (hilarious), Annie (the Ninja Knitter) and Jean (kind enough to wash Dawes’s trousers after an unfortunate love-in with Natalie’s dog).
The thing about Laugharne is that it’s a place where it’s really unbelievably easy to hang out and do nothing. Since arriving three days ago, we’ve achieved this admirably. To be perfectly honest, the most effortful part of it all was spending Saturday getting over Friday. There was chips and cheese, and G&T and sitting by the sea all involved in that. Also coffee and snoozes. So, it comes now to a rainy bank holiday Monday, looking out of the window at the beautiful, bright green Pelican, trying to stay present and not think of later. You know, it’s not even that I don’t like what I have to be doing tomorrow. I do. It’s just that I won’t be here. Dawes – I loves ya, Dude. Thanks for being here too.