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Wales is land of myths, castles and poets.  I live out towards the west, near:

Carmarthen  – Merlin’s Fort – which was once the country’s capital and, so the legend goes, Arthur’s knights are sleeping in a cave just up the road, awaiting the call to rise again.

Dwyslyn, (pictured) is one of three ruined castles (which Henry V paid to have knocked down to stop bandits using as hideouts) within shouting distance of my home.

And this is the Boathouse at Laugharne, where our most famous local son -- poet and author, Dylan Thomas -- lived and wrote. 

West Wales has a long and beautiful coastline that is infinite in its variety.  There are long sweeping bays, pretty harbours and old docks that, with the decline of the coal industry, have been converted to leisure activities. 

Tenby Harbour

It’s a place for climbers, walkers, pony trekkers too.

We live on the edge of the Brecon Beacons National Park where, one achingly beautiful moonlit night, I caught sight of a fox loping across the empty hillside, intent on hunting down his supper.

Swansea – Dylan’s “Seatown” – is the largest “village” in Wales.  Small, intimate, with an old maritime quarter, fabulous beaches, a great market, famous for local specialities -- cockles and lava bread (better known as seaweed!) -- and with a lovely old theatre right at its heart.