POST PANDEMIC DIARY — Roaming with Roth

I AM NOT A NUMBER
September 27, 2023

Today we decided to chance the forecast, all day rain and high winds, and stick to our plans to visit Penrhyn Castle. Penrhyn is one of the newer castles in the UK dating from the mid to late 1800’s. That being said, it offers some of the best interiors and interior architecture in its original state.

When we arrived at the registration desk we were advised that the castle would be closing early and that visits to the upstairs chambers would conclude by noon. Being that we arrived at 10:15, this exception really did not impact us. However, it did alert us to the fact that the weather might be a factor in our overall plans for the day. Given that the roads are so narrow (How narrow? will be explained shortly) we thought it best to review our days plans so as not to find us on one of the narrow “B” roads that are so designated because they are not major motorways but more rural, typically two-land roads that endlessly wind through the country.

Since we exited the estate after the noon hour, we now had a decision to make. Do we continue on our way, go back to our hotel, or modify our plans? It started to rain as we took in the beauty of the chambers and was continuing even as we were facing this decision. Even as we weighed the likelihoods, the wind picked up and began stirring the trees. We looked at the hourly forecasts and finally decided to do the latter and change our plans. We decided to go to Portmeirion, a seaside village about 40 minutes down the coast and have lunch and hope after a relaxing dine the most dire of the conditions will have passed or subsided.

I quickly made reservations at the hotel “Castell Deudrath”, the castle that lay at the edge of the village. We arrived and were escorted into a glass enclosed dining room of substantial size and abundant charm. We dined on a three-course menu taking our time and watching as the weather worsened between courses. As we were completing our meal, timed to perfection, the rain stopped while the wind began to blow the trees sideways. I asked for the bill and was brought the bill along with a pass for two to enter the Village of Portmeirion. As I paid, and with a bit of manifest sarcasm, I said, “One has to pay to visit the village”? To which the really sweet service person said, “You get in for free. If you’d rather not go I will gladly take the passes.” I was told, wasn’t I.

**The incongruous design of this elegantly garish village.**

Little did we know what we were about to experience. Portmeirion is an enchanted village of colorful buildings, shops, cafes, a picturesque piazza, periodic events and exhibitions and audio displays set on 70-acres of seaside woodlands with miles of pathways that wend through the forests and equally winding streets that thread amongst the multiple dwellings.

One’s first impression is confused delight - orange, white, purple, green, yellow - a garish impressionistic splash assaults first impressions. The architecture further baffles ones sensibilities with pseudo roman platforms, Italianate sculptures, and French Mediterranean facades. What would otherwise be crude and appealing only to the busloads of people on vacation hurrying from one “I saw this” to another, in fact, possesses a most odd appeal.

As we finally finished a walk down to the shore to magically escape the wind taking a second circuit around the village, we ended up, as is inevitably the case, at the gift shop which lies at the end of every round. In discussion with the lady in the shop, the whole of this experience became clarified. But, only the older readers may appreciate this discovery.

Does anyone remember “The Prisoner”, a 1967 British television series created by and starring Patrick McGoohan? In the series, The Prisoner was known only as Number Six, ergo the title, endlessly repeated by the protagonist who railed against being identified as such and would scream defiantly to the hidden voice that was the ‘control’, “I am not a number”. In fact, Number Six was a former government agent who, in the series, “resigns from his job and soon after finds himself imprisoned in a beautiful and charming-yet-bizarre community — a mysterious seaside village that is isolated from the mainland by mountains and the sea. Presumably wanted for the top-secret information he knows, Number Six is hunted, yet thwarts his captors at every turn. However, he’s still trapped in the village by floating, glowing “rovers”, mysterious, balloon-like devices that capture those who try to escape. As you can imagine, The Prisoner ended with an ambiguous finale as to Number Six’ survival. Today it represents a debated question by The Prisoner aficionados.