It was a good few weeks into the summer holidays of three years ago, and I was eleven years of age. I was with my family on a vacation in North Wales, situated right near the sunny beaches of a town called "Pwllheli". That summer we had rented out a wooden lodge from a dear friend of my mothers and we couldn't have been staying in a more beautiful place. Around the lodge were towering trees with the hot, glorious sunshine creeping through the brittle branches and elegant little flowers swaying in the cool breeze from the glistening sea in the background.
During one of the first days of our…
