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As I leaf through the snapshots of time today’s focus takes me back to February, a delightful, but cold few weeks cocooned in my most cherished beach house, the house on the beach in Tresaith, West Wales.
It was, and has been my sanctuary where remote work was intertwined with day dreaming, coastal walks and the simple pleasure of doing sod all. It was my retreat. A stunning seven bedroom Victorian abode, that stood proud alongside a cluster of holiday lets. A place I could runaway to for solace and inspiration. I loved how I embraced the aloneness. I didn’t crave anything or long for anyone. With only the ridgebacks and the dulcet tones on the radio for company, I always felt at peace.
However, there is a bittersweet tinge, for the house on the beach, is now home to new owners. G…