Key points are not available for this paper at this time.
The levels hiss and hum in the warm spring sunshine, faintly ooze and crackle with drainage. ‘Ok!’ – one of my bigger brothers. A battered iron gate scrapes open – ‘hoowww, get on!’, a man’s voice, loud, rich, slightly Welsh – my dad – he whistles for the sheepdog. The flock of sheep, previously pressed against the gate, begin to trickle over the small stone-arched bridge and onto the coast road, scuffling and bleating as they go.
Owain Jones (Fri,) studied this question.