It is early November; latitude 51 degrees north, longitude 4 degrees west, our temporary fix on earth. Inside Mor Awelon we sit together questioning the wisdom of those who dared build this house full-frontal to the Atlantic.
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The boardwalk ends at Diles Lake and we take the sandy path through the burrows that leads to the beach. You lag behind, me dragging you, your dimpled hand clutching mine, as once your mother did, as my mother did mine…
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Next year will mark my 50th year as a resident of Llangennith, Gower’s most north-westerly village.
During that time I have lived in four different houses with two different husbands so have survived many shifts in personal circumstances as well as witnessing many changes in village life here.
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When The Lonely Crowd’s creator and Editor, John Lavin, emailed me inviting me to guest-edit the short fiction for edition thirteen, I felt a range of emotions: surprise, fear, excitement, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. I was being tasked to ensure that I followed in John’s – and previous guest-editors’ – footsteps and that my sensibility in selecting short stories was, as set out by John in his brief, ‘in keeping with the values and aesthetics of the magazine.’
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