After a full hearty Welsh breakfast we rolled down the hill to explore the wonders of Barmouth. It’s a captivating blend of faded Victorian grandeur; amusement arcade awfulness; bric-a-brac shops galore and numerous chapels of all denominations now crudely and unsympathetically converted into Bargain Bin stores one, horrifyingly, placing the till in the pulpit. I could almost hear the generations of Calvanistic Methodist ghosts who’d worshipped in these chapels for a century or more, groaning their disapproval from the pews now stuffed with cheap plastic tat.

A little further down the High Street we stumbled across an architectural gem of a storefront, ‘Morris the Drapers’, seemingly untouched for about 45 years. Sian propped me up as I looked through a top window and caught a glimpse of the shop’s interior….and what a magnificent sight it was, the inside matched the facade in terms of preservation, everything intact! Wonderful, now the only thing was gaining access.

After some investigation we discovered that the garage behind the building belongs to the current shop owner’s son. Unfortunately, he was away on business for the day but one of the mechanics promptly rang the father and informed him that he had some visitors.

Glyn, in his late seventies slowly emerged from behind a creaking door and looked at us suspiciously. After a brief conversation in Welsh where I explained the purpose of our visit, it seemed that he had absolutely no intention in letting us in. But, after some gentle but serious persuasion and an explanation of what we might like to do on his premises, he inexplicably opened the door with the sentence ‘You’ll never have seen anything like this before, and you never will again’…...

He was right, it was like stepping back in time, that sounds like a cliché but it’s true….it was one of the most breathtaking spectacle’s I had ever seen. All of the shop’s original features; mahogany counters; curved glass fronted cabinets; and the piece de resistence, a stunning spiral staircase in the centre of the room. We rooted around, with Glyn’s permission and watchful eye, whilst surreptitiously taking some snaps. The shop was totally crammed - mostly rubbish, car tyres, motorbikes but the authentic artefacts and architectural features shone through. Sian and I were hooked and the vision of our potential performance intervention began to materialise.

Our quest along the coastline of North Wales for a prospective site wouldn’t be complete without a visit to a pier so we ventured forth to Colwyn Bay and Victoria Pier. Steve, its owner, showed us around his rather sorry looking empire but we admired his resilience and determination to restore and return the pier to its former glory….quite a task to say the least.

Then onwards a little further past Prestatyn and miles and miles of regimented, soulless caravan parks to Rhyl and our next abode for the night at Lyons Robyn Hood Caravan Park. My fears are met as we swung into the park….why on earth did I suggest this? But we had wanted to immerse ourselves in the full-on North Wales holiday experience! Upon arrival we were asked if we were the cabaret act for the evening. I explained to the receptionist that we could indeed perform but I seriously doubted that something from the Rees repertoire would be suitable…. besides I’d left my furs and bejewelled headdress at home (my “Gloria Days” garb). She accepted this and offered us reduced rates for a full body spray tan at only £9.99!

We came, we stayed, we left…..we survived (albeit with a slight orange tinge)