A red car, small dog, orange mailbox

At last a chance to relax, recharge his mind, and body, perhaps later to start research on his next project.

These thoughts occupied the mind of author Dafydd Morgan, winner of the book of the year prize, a second success in four years. Now that all the presentation awards, endless book signings were over, he was free to visit again his old childhood haunts.

He now owned the little wooden bungalow on the edge of the beach, where he had spent most of his early years with his grand parents, who let him run free fishing , swimming just as he desired.

A lonely child, who was never lonely, his fertile mind always inventing adventures. A simple task of collecting driftwood for winter fires, on his old sledge, became engagements with sea dragons, and other intruders who dared invade his Kingdom.

Then there was the old seaman who lived in a similar old wooden house on the other side of the beach. Sometimes Dafydd would leave him a load of driftwood, and would be rewarded by scalding hot mugs of sweet tea,thick slices of freshly toasted bread, with lashings of jam, and best of all seafaring yarns of daring do.

These two simple wooden houses,one on each side of the quiet beach, which allthough really quite small, to a young boy it seemed almost as big as the Sahara Desert, a desert with a fort guarding each side. A truly magical place.

Then one day the old Seaman annouced that he was expecting the arrival of his grand daughter who would be staying for a few weeks, and as she was of Dafydd’s age he hoped they would become friends. This started alarm bells ringing, a girl in his domain, disaster, no more shedding of clothes and diving into his favourite pool, laying out on the flat rock to dry in the sun.

One day whilst playing in the rock pools, intent on seeing what was under each and every rock, a strange voice demanded to know ” what are you doing”, startled he slipped and sat down heavily and got soaked. The strange voice continued “Sorry to startle you, but i have been watching for some time, and it looks interesting.” Dafydd stood up with as much dignity as he could muster, and for the first time saw this girl creature wearing brief shorts, a sort of cut off shirt, , and a short hair cut , and no shoes. Holding out his hand he said “I am Dafydd Morgan, welcome to my kingdom”, ” and i am Princess Alicia, and i live in the palace over there”, pointing to the old seaman’s house.They both laughed, shook hand,s and instantly became firm friends.

That summer holiday flew by, later ones were never quite as enjoyable, as that very special one.

Memories flooded back as he took the cliff road, the n it came into view, the old orange mail box at the end of the track leading down to the beach houses. He was home, entering the house, switching on the lights the old familiar smells invaded his senses, now he could really relax.

Looking across the beach at the old seaman’s house, there appeared to be no one in residence, he would stroll across in the morning and make sure. Having cooked and eaten his meal he sat by the window, enjoying a drink, listening to the waves,and evening bird calls, and remembering —– remembering.

Wide awake early next morning, dashing down to the favourite pool , diving in splashing around just as he used to do all those years back.

Breakfasting on eggs and bacon, fresh toast, he was now ready to face the day

Later he strolled over to the other house, knocked, but it seemed to be unoccupied.Standing on the balcony he peered through the window, it looked different from the old days, and something else what was that red paintintin over the fireplace, he moved further along and getting a better vie, and to his astonishment saw it was a painting of a red car, not just any old car, but a red Morris Minor, and more, a painted black ebony small dog hung from a chain on the rear view mirror.

His heart missed a beat or two as he knelt on the window cill, remembering that last night as he and his princess strolled on the beach,when they exchanged favourite items as keep sakes, vowing that one day they would be reunited, his a favourite red toy car ,a relic of early childhood, hers a small black ebony dog broach, which he still had, and always carried in his brief case, his lucky charm.

His knees were beginning to ache from the hard cill, when a voice like a blast from the past, asked “What are you doing” The effect was alarming he slipped, and fell on his posterior, With as much dignity as he could manage, he said “I am Dafydd Morgan, and it seems I am destined to fall for you,” ” and I am Princess Alicia, come to unite our Kingdoms”

They both laughed, embraced, knowing that this was going to be the best summer ever, the Author and the Painter united at last.The End.

Now to catch up on the Punidicht.

Spring in the air, puts a spring in my step. I stride out,

Did not see the dog pooh waiting there.