Julie "Tigress" Graeanog
One fine spring day, about 15 years ago (can it really be so long?), Julie was skinny dipping in one of the smaller lakes in Chwarel Dorothea (the Nantlle end) with a clutch of her children. The waters were that lovely shade of turquoise that you get in quarries, set off nicely by the purple cliffs that hug the void. A gentle breeze was blowing, so the papery sounds of the pointillist trees with their soft new leaves blended the sounds of children playing happily in the water.
Suddenly, the impressionist idyll was shattered by a loud ‘SPLASH’: a large rock landed mere metres away from the kids in the water. And another… and another….
Julie, concerned the cliffs were falling in, cried to the kids to get out of the water. She looked up, and saw a gang of lads around the rim of the quarry, laughing and chucking large lumps of slate.
At this moment, she saw red. She leapt out of the water and ran – naked - towards the cliffs shouting “I know where where your mother lives....” a magical phrase she had not heard since her northern childhood. Her long red hair streaming behind her, she ran uphill and at the top of the hill one boy dropped his trousers and “waggled his willie” at her. She carried on running and shouted “and is that supposed to scare me?”. He scarpered!