It was a typical anxiety dream I suppose. I was on a beach, or at least near some water and talking to someone who was just in front of me. A woman, I think. And I saw its head, just the top of it with its eyes, sliding through the water. I felt the panic. It came for her first and I threw some food at it, something completely inappropriate. Was it a present someone had sent me? It was wrapped up anyway, though the crocodile seemed satisfied and slunk back into the water with it in its mouth. No one was hurt. All was well. Just a frisson of fear. Real fear. Proper, sensible fear.

The wind was strong this morning – I had to push my way through it, into it.

Students and late-night clubbers wandered about, holding onto each other.

What’s the matter? A man was asking his girlfriend. She was looking away.


What is the matter? He asked again.

Nothing, she said with more vehemence this time.

Down by the station two lads hover by the taxi rank. One of them is on the phone.

Hey boy, you alright? Silence as he waits for an answer.

You’re flat out?

Was he hoping for a lift?

There’s a huge marquee in St Michaels car park, you can see it from the Prom. Has the church had to shut temporarily? The wind was buffeting it.

Such blackness. No Aberdovey. And many of the street lights aren’t working. Just a few months to go. The shortest day in just under three weeks.