Ah - back in Bangor. The Earthman transfer is now complete, and the münsterländer and I are now in residence. The house in Yorkshire isn't quite sold yet, owing to banks messing up money transfers, but in general all is well.

The old town is as it ever was: it seems that the gods of the place even knew I was coming back, as in recognition of the occasion they have summoned up some very special rain. Welsh rain is the connoisseur's precipitation of choice: seemingly wetter than rains in other parts of the world, it also has a wonderful tendency to approach the ground at just about any angle other than the perpendicular.

Bangor isn't the land of my fathers, but it is my second home, and I always get a wonderful warm feeling of belonging when I come back here. In the snugs of the local pubs you'll find old men, wrinkled like walnuts and wreathed in pipe smoke, who understand this perfectly. When you tell them about your love of Wales, their creased faces break into smiles. Ah, they say, Parcio ar gyfer canol y dref.

tags: Bangor, Welsh, rain