Marie Martin

We were in the midst of a very "poor man's tour" of  Britain. For two nights, we had, in fact, slept in our tiny rented car to keep from paying exorbitant Bed and Breakfast bills. The time had come for a real bed and a hot shower. Now we were on our way to Holyhead to take the Irish ferry to Dun Lagohaire (which is pronounced DunLairy - the Irish are very poor, why do they waste letters so?) Speaking of letters, we were passing through Wales. Their road signs are in both Welsh and English. No, that's not true...their road signs are actually half Welsh and half English.

I read somewhere, years ago, that one could stay at an old lighthouse somewhere in England. It sounded like the stuff of which dreams are made, and provided me with hours of fantasies. I envisioned myself going there for a month or two and relaxing, looking out upon the pounding waves. I learned that the lighthouse was located on Lundy, an island off the coast of Devon. The Lundy Island folk sent me excellent literature answering almost all my questions concerning what to expect on such an unusual venture.