The battlements surround us as we drive along the lanes. White walls taller than the car. The roadway seemingly chiselled out as though from rock. Winter has the hills in a firm grip. Yet by the coast, the snow is very gradually dissolving, snowmen disappearing to some foreign land. The snow-castle still sits proudly guarding the front path, but the turrets are crumbling under spring’s return. The battle is not yet won – snow continues to fall in odd flurries, occasionally settling for a short time. The sun seems to be winning today’s fight.
The walls of the town march round, no longer a defence but a viewing platform. The streets of the place are quiet today. I perch on my vantage point. People scurrying from cars to shops, huddled against the biting wind. Rain is heading in, sweeping across the bay. The bulk of the castle shields me from the worst of the weather. A shelter in the storm.