“Did you see the Monkey Man?” asks my good friend Tom about my trip to the Welsh seaside resort , recently voted the best place in the UK to retire to. He is referring to the eccentric uniformed pensioner who dances around the town with a toy monkey in a pram, spreading unhinged joy and laughter everywhere he goes. Sadly I didn’t do much research before the trip otherwise I would have made it my mission to track the local legend down. Then I could have called the blog Tweeter and the Monkey Man. “I’m looking forward to the trip to Llandudno blog” Tom says..

It is Tuesday night, the dying days of summer and some nice sunset pics at the train station make for some good content. The train sits for 6 minutes past its departure time, stressing me about making the connection at Llandudno junction. I make the connection and I arrive, greeted by the giant wooden Alice, part of the town’s Alice in Wonderland sculpture trail. She looms over me in the wind and rain, with the darkness adding a sinister edge to her carved face. Llandudno has celebrated its connection to the classic book, with the real life Alice Alice Liddell often holidaying in the town and inspiring her teacher Lewis Carroll to write about her.

I make my way through the largely empty streets to the shore and The Grand Hotel. Dominating the seafront and the Pier, the hotel which opened in 1902 has often been labelled the worst in Llandudno, with scores of angry TripAdvisor reviews and YouTube investigations. Under the cover of the darkness and after a friendly check in, the interior doesn’t seem that bad at all. The TV and kettle works so I’m fine

I wake up early the next day and venture out onto the balcony of the communal area, the sunrise casting its warm glow upon me. The balcony looks right down over the equally historic Pier ( opened 1877). The Pier has been voted Pier of the Year for 2025 and despite being damaged by storms last December, looks to have be well repaired and maintained. I walk out towards the beach, noticing the big empty wasteland at the side of the Pier. The rotting pillars which face onto the businesses of the Pier were once part of the Pier Pavilion theatre, which was destroyed by fire in 1994 after lying empty for many years.

Cliff Richard , George Formby and Petula Clark were among the stars that performed here and numerous politicians including Lloyd George, Attlee, Macmillan, Heath and Churchill attended events there. Another one was fascist Oswald Moseley, who is mentioned in the hotel’s literature as staying there. All the legends that performed there and now its a hole in the ground, a grot spot that’s well hidden unless you’re walking up the hill. The Pier owners are hoping to redevelop it in the future.

I sit and watch the sun, and some influencers taking up one of the jetty’s for a photo shoot. Apart from that its 6.30am and everything is peaceful and beautiful and still in the world.

I return to the Grand for the £12 buffet breakfast, racing with the pensioner guests to get a good spot by the window. The faded grandeur is evident in the breakfast room with the outside windows looking like they haven’t been cleaned since the Blair era. But still that beautiful view shines through. The breakfast is serviceable with one of those slide through toasters and a lack of pastries, but the atmosphere makes up for it. Backstreet Boys “I want it that way” features on the pop soundtrack. I google the meaning of the song whilst eating.

I walk up the hill past the hotel to Happy Valley, a big open space with a lovely views of the Pier and the sea. Here are more sculptures dedicated to the Alice connection- a Caterpillar that looks stoned and chairs for the King and Queen are highlights, as well as the Mad Hatter’s tea table- sadly ruined by half of the chessboard having been ripped off by vandals. It is from here that Cable Cars travel up the Great Orme. Rows of metal fences make exploring the adjacent gardens confusing so after admiring the view I head back down towards the Pier. LLLANDUDNO is carved out in letters on the grass facing out to sea, but I don’t discover this til later. There is also a stone circle  erected for the Eisteddfod. The druids probably danced naked there, in 1963.

Llandudno Pier is busy despite the early hour, with many visitors and residents enjoying the sunny day. There are all the usual entertainments and food options, with an arcade and children’s rides. The massive seagulls are always on the prowl, with a warning in the Hotel stating “In the interests of safety Please DO NOT feed the seagulls”. A giant plush seagull is suspended upright in one of the grabbing claw machines : “You want a big one? ” jokes a man to his partner pointing at the giant bird.

I pause to browse the shop selling cheap knock off Lego minifigures, feeling dirty in the process, and deciding to buy some from China instead as there’s a better selection online. Further up a music and book stall offers an eclectic mix of CDS including Morrissey’s most recent album and the best of Billy Connolly. I buy a 5 CD 80’s mix for just £5. To download one track costs a pound these days so it’s a bargain and I’m served with a smile once again. A sign at the next stall with animal themed artwork declares “None of our cards are made with AI” The Pier is also home to a branch of The Crystal Hut, familiar to Chester Market goers.

In the town I visit a Lego exhibition inside a Church, pure luck as had no idea it was on after the impulse decision to visit. The vast church is filled with row after row of large expensive sets and some original creations including a life-size Lego model of one of the famous Llandudno goats. A winter theme park is a highlight as well as some large scale Disney characters. “Its all one man doing it” says one of the Church volunteers, explaining how he has building for 10 years. “Do you build with Lego ? “she asks me. The Church has embraced the Lego spirit with a large wigged Lego head in the pulpit and another volunteer outside wearing a Lego brick shaped costume. “Donald Duck took 3 months to make” I’m told.

The best shop in town is The Bargain Centre where I buy an offensive gnome as a present for a beloved friend. You can get anything in there. In the discount bookshop, the member of staff is discussing a hill fire which took place the night before which I missed with my late arrival. £3.99 for a DVD biopic of Florence Nightingale joins my purchases. After that I make the short walk to the shopping park, which looks the same as all other shopping parks of its type. B&M. Home Bargain, McDonalds- these are the places to visit in these historic towns! I browse The Daily Post in McDonalds , looking at dramatic pics of the hillside blaze and reading an article about the changing fortunes of Rhyl.

After a short blast of rain I walk back along the sea front to the Pier. Everything seems so clean and tidy here, I haven’t seen any substance abusers arguing in the streets, Llandudno feels like a place with a smile on its face, although I can’t be fully scientific based on a 24 hour stay. I am back on the Pier and I hover over the fake Lego again but resist, making my way to the end, walking past the rows of benches paying tribute to dead family members and happy times. They all loved it here.

The Oceans Cafe gives me further metaphorical shelter from the metaphorical storm. With plastic checked table cloths, apart from the addition of that Match grass drink to the menu and people paying with their phones, this could be any time in our glorious vintage seaside past. A pot of tea and a scone listening to the chatter and the whistle of the coffee machine. A mythical place out of time and reality where everything is well, for a bit. Time is frozen as I sip the comforting drink – I’m breaking from reality or returning to reality from a world so strange and remote. I am waking up and things are different: the student village was built, Terry Smith got us promoted, Rome never fell, I have a normal life. Then I remember its just English breakfast tea I’m drinking. I imagine a docusoap set on the Pier- John Thomson could narrate it, I know he did one about Blackpool, or maybe Rob Brydon if we needed a Welsh voice. I later learn that an independent filmmaker is making a documentary about the town for 2026 release- hopefully the Monkey man will feature.

The last stop before a quick rest break on the Hotel is the Mostyn art gallery. Alongside some drawings of the Manic Street Preachers is a existential quote from Jack Kerouac proclaiming “The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death.” Maybe that’s how I felt in that cafe, safe and secure and removed. I attempt to buy an Alice in Wonderland coaster from the very well stocked gift shop, but the member of staff wanders off to tidy cards and isn’t paying any attention so I leave.

For the evening I walk to the West Shore, for more spectacular views under beautiful skies. Kites soar like giant flying fish, matchstick people play sports on the beach and in the water. A nearby play area is another “happy valley” and a monument marks where Lewis Carroll allegedly walked the shores with young Alice and family.

“On this very shore during happy rambles with little Alice Liddell, Lewis Carroll was inspired to write that literary treasure Alice in Wonderland which has now charmed children for generations.”

Later research suggests historical debate about whether he ever came here at all, but I’m happy to run with the legend and the freakish giant Cheshire Cat sculpture. Graffiti I see in 3 different spaces encourages me to follow an Instagram account but when I look it up they haven’t made a single post. Time waster.

In search of food I wander into the Wetherspoons, intending to take a picture before grabbing a takeaway on the way back to the Hotel. The Palladium is a converted theatre and the interior blows me away so much I stay for food and drink, thanks to the handy app I can order direct to the table as well. I select one of the few remaining seats looking up at the converted theatre boxes. The cavernous interior once held 1500 seats and was later used as a cinema before restoration in 2001 to its new use. Its simply stunning and a brilliant piece of work whatever your views on the company’s eccentric founder. Its quite dark inside but I flick through the company’s magazine. noting my acquaintance Howling Laud Hope in a feature about the recent Runcorn and Helsby by election in which he stood, using the local Wetherspoons as his HQ ( As he did when he stood in the Chester by election). The place is packed out, and I doubt anyone cares about the politics, they just want a nice pub. The Gail’s syndrome- everyone says they want local businesses and independents but then they’re queuing in the Tesco and the Costa. Other pubs are available.

I return to the mythical end of the Pier where everything is alright, but the cafe has now closed. Another crowd of influencers have camped on the rocky beach Night slowly falls, and I’m annoyed when 2 children on illegal escooters zoom past, their mother apparently totally unconcerned. Heading towards the exit a young child is gazing up at the Zoltar fortune telling machine, when the electronic face in the Turban booms out “YOUR FORTUNE IS MINE FOR THE TELLING!” The child jumps in the air startled, his family laugh, the servers in the fish and chip laugh, and the trip ends with a smile.