18c Mostly Clear
Barmouth Viaduct at Sunset 
Llanberis from Penllyn 
Morfa Bychan beach near Porthmadog 
North Wales Calendar 
THE barmaid snuggles into her anorak and apologises for the chill that hovers menacingly in the air, before putting down what she's reading and coming to serve me.
The long-since cooled down ashes in the open fireplace suggests that a warmer welcome usually awaits the regulars. But then again, as I'm the only customer this mid-week afternoon, I wouldn't really expect any establishment to go to the expense of chucking on the logs.
A sign by the front door warning that no food was being sold that day was notice enough that they weren't exactly expecting a deluge of thirsty punters, let alone hungry ones. A loudly ticking clock competes with a radio programme to see which is best at attracting my attention. The clock wins by a nose.
The White Horse is split into traditional lounge and bar areas, one plushly carpeted and the other featuring a more utilitarian stone tiled floor. The bar to the left, partly semi-circular in shape, features classic wooden settles that give the place a comforting feel of not having changed that much down the decades.
Meanwhile the other bar has the feel of a catacomb about it, a narrow room probably created out of two, all stone arches, white paint and artex. It's served by low tables and a host of stools.
The usual alcoholic fare is on offer, including Thwaite's Flying Shuttle, generously potent for a cask ale at 4.6% ABV. Named after part of a cotton weaving machine, it's a typically Lancashire ale that describes itself as a dark beer with a fruit aroma and nutty flavour.
I'm intrigued.
However, the car waiting impatiently for me outside on Maengwyn Street, near Owain Glyndwr's supposed parliament house, demands that I stick to soft drinks.
Although the exterior could do with a dab of paint, the White Horse remains a fine focal point in a street full of buildings of note.
I sit down and recall how in days past, before licensing hours introduced during World War I were finally relaxed in the 21st century, travellers in these parts would stop here only to find out they'd missed the chance for a last minute afternoon pint.
They'd be aghast to find the pubs closed at 2.30pm when in neighbouring areas the shutters came down at three o'clock.
The White Horse has made a long and distinguished contribution to the imbibers' art in Machynlleth, once one of 25 inns that peppered this small town of just 2,000 souls.
However, surprisingly, it also played a small part in the temperance movement in the early 19th century when the then owner David Pugh allowed the local Baptists to use his loft as a place of worship before they built their own chapel.
