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There is a Light That Never Goes Out

When I was a young boy, my bedroom window looked out over fields towards Strumble Head lighthouse. I used to fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of the lighthouse beam scanning across my window: one, two, three, four, then a dark gap of four, then it would start up again. It was a nocturnal equivalent to counting sheep, only for Welshmen, possibly more wholesome. I often used to wonder what it was like for the Lighthouse keepers out there on Ynys Meicel . . .

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