The church at Llanbeulan is, like Tal-y-llyn, looked after by the the Friends of Friendless Churches. Like Tal-y-llyn, it’s remote, reached by a track across fields, although the illusion of rurality is broken by the proximity of pylons:-
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St. Mary, Tal-y-llyn
I discovered the church of St. Mary, Tal-y-llin in the Shell Guide’s entry for Aberffraw. It’s actually on a deserted road about three miles north- north-east of Aberffraw unmarked by the Ordnance Survey. It’s a magical place, looked after by the Friends of Friendless Churches and miraculously open, not just to visitors, but to the fields. Empty of any paraphernalia except a deep and rural piety:-
Clwyd Theatr
We went to see a film version of The Rape of Lucretia in the Clwyd Theatr far on the outskirts of Mold. It was slightly surreal watching Fiona Shaw’s wonderful production of Benjamin Britten’s opera about the battle between the Romans and Etruscans in a 1960s municipal cinema where people were having a picnic outside as if it was Glyndebourne itself.
Ruthin
Wonder of wonders. A ring road takes traffic round Ruthin so one misses the town centre, one of the best preserved small market towns in the British Isles, with more surviving medieval town houses than I have seen close together anywhere and a still surviving medieval town plan, with views down the streets of the countryside.
This is the amazing Town Hall designed by Poundley and Walker (the Companion Guide says ‘who else ?’ as if one should easily recognise their work):-
Ruthin Craft Centre
Ruthin Craft Centre is in a curious place: not in the centre of the small market town, but in an industrial park on the outskirts. No matter. It shows crafts of the highest quality, better than Collect, with an exhibition of Welsh crafts which we missed at Collect and a very priginal, beautiful exhibition of jewellery in non-precious metals by makers from all over the world, mainly Scandinavia and Japan.
This is a view of the courtyard:-
We particularly liked the work of Eunmi Chun, a Korean based in Munich, who makes work from intestines:-
Oriel Mostyn
I would like to say that I enjoyed the Mostyn Art Gallery, but I didn’t. I have always regarded it as small, but perfectly formed, one of the nicest of the small regional galleries, with beautiful top-lit galleries and an admirable programme of exhibitions. Lottery funding has enlarged it and given it an odd, pseudo-Liebeskind entrance space, all diagonal lines and out of sympathy with the original, with a pyramid on the roof. But at least I liked the fine terracotta façade and it’s sculptural detailing:-
An Apology
I must apologise to the subscribers to my blog. Because I am on holiday service is severely intermittent. I have no internet access, which is partly a blessing and partly a curse. So, I have to wait until we are sitting in a café to send backdated posts, which are gradually accumulating unsent.
Bangor University
We had been tipped off that Bangor University has a botanical garden so went to enquire at the main university building. I had never actually been up the road which leads to Henry Hare’s grand set piece of monastic monumentalism which overlooks the city. In my five minute, self guided tour, all I was able to appreciate was the grandiosity of the detailing:-
Owen Chadwick (1)
For some reason I missed the announcement of Owen Chadwick’s death on 17th. July aged 99. He was the chairman of Trustees at the National Portrait Gallery at the time that I was appointed, although he stood down the day I started in order to allow a new chairman to take over. To this day I don’t know what role he played in the appointment, but he remained a benign and sympathetic presence. I had been brought up to regard him as a great man: Cambridge to his fingertips; the longest serving Master of Selwyn; always refusing a bishopric because it would take him away from Grange Road; a blue in rugby football. He was appointed Regius Professor of History above Geoffrey Elton and Jack Plumb, much to their annoyance, and, as Vice Chancellor, defended the rebellious students by contrast to the boorishness of the rugby-playing undergraduates of his youth.
Fields
To the north of the cottage we look out towards Newborough. Some evenings the mist rolls in over the fields:-
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