One Hundred Words and A Picture of Penmon Point

We came to Penmon Point after Kathy's funeral. She loved this place.

We drove past the ruins of the Priory and the domed dovecote.

It is an isolated headland, especially in January. There, a grey sea scoured by winds from the north opened to us.

So we emptied ourselves out onto the raised beach. The children and dogs seemed to be lifted up into the arms ofthe wind, scattered among rocks and puddles, searching the sea towards Puffin Island and beyond The Great Orme.

And a bell from the lighthouse rang slowly announcing the end of something.