Llandudno

Llandudno is truly a fine and handsome place, built on a generously pro­portioned bay and lined along its broad front with a huddle of prim but gracious nineteenth-century hotels that reminded me in the fading light of a lineup of Victorian nannies. Llandudno was purpose-built as a resort in the mid-1800s, and it cultivates a nice old-fashioned air. I don’t suppose that Lewis Carroll, who famously strolled this front with little Alice Liddell in the 1860s, would notice a great deal of change today.

To my consternation, the town was packed with weekending pensioners. Buses from all over were parked along the side streets, every hotel I called at was full, and in every dining room I could see crowds – veritable oceans – of nodding white heads spooning soup and conversing happily. Goodness knows what had brought them to the Welsh seaside at this bleak time of year.

Farther on along the front there stood a clutch of guesthouses, large and virtually indistinguishable, and a few of them had vacancy signs in their windows. I had eight or ten to choose from, which always puts me in a mild fret because I have an unerring instinct for choosing badly. My wife can survey a row of guesthouses and instantly identify the one run by a white-haired widow with a fondness for children, and sparkling bathroom facilities, whereas I can generally count on choosing the one run by a guy with a grasping manner, and the sort of cough that makes you wonder where he puts the phlegm. Such, I felt, would be the case tonight.

All the guesthouses had boards out front listing their many amen­ities – COLOUR TV, HOSPITALITY TRAYS, FULL CENTRAL HEATING, and the coyly euphemistic EN SUITE ALL ROOMS, meaning private bathrooms. One place offered satellite TV and a trouser press, and another boasted CURRENT FIRE CERTIFICATE – something I had never thought to look for in a B& B. All this heightened my sense of unease and doom. How could I possibly choose intelligently among such a variety of options?

I selected a place that looked reasonable enough from the outside – its board promised a color TV and coffee making facilities, about all I require these days for a Saturday night – but from the moment I set foot in the door I knew it was a bad choice. I was about to turn and flee when the owner emerged from a back room and stopped my retreat with an unenthusiastic " Yes? " A short conversation revealed that a single room with breakfast was for? 19.50. It was entirely out of the question that I would stay the night in such a dismal place at such an exorbitant price, so I said, " That sounds fine, " and signed in. Well, it’s so hard to say no.

My room was everything I expected it to be – cold and cheerless with laminated furniture, grubbily matted carpet, and those mysterious ceiling stains that bring to mind a neglected corpse in the room above. There was a tray of coffee things but the cups were disgusting, and the spoon was stuck to the tray.

The bathroom, faintly illuminated by a distant light activated by a length of string, had curling floor tiles and years of accumulated dirt packed into every corner. I peered at the yellowy tile around the bath and sink and realized what the landlord did with his phlegm. A bath was out of the question, so I threw some cold water on my face, dried it with a towel that had the texture of shredded wheat, and gladly took my leave.

For almost 125 years, the secrecy surrounding the recipe for Coca-Cola has been one of the world’s great marketing tricks. As the story goes, the fizzy drink’s famous ‘7X’ formula has remained unchanged since it was developed in 1886. Today, the recipe is entrusted only to two Coke executives, neither of whom can travel on the same plane for fear the secret would go down with them.

Now, one of America’s most celebrated radio broadcasters claims to have discovered the Coke secret. Ira Glass, presenter of the public radio institution This American Life, says he has tracked down a copy of the recipe, the original of which is still supposedly held in a burglar-proof vault at the Sun Trust Bank in Atlanta, Georgia.

The formula was created by John Pemberton, an Atlanta chemist and former Confederate army officer who crafted cough medicines in his spare time. In 1887, he sold the recipe to a businessman, Asa Griggs, who immediately placed it for safekeeping in the Georgia Trust Bank.

Glass came across a recipe that he believes is the secret formula in a back issue of Pemberton’s local paper, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, while he was researching an entirely different story. Tucked away on an inside page of the 8 February 1979 edition, he stumbled on an article that claimed to have uncovered the closely guarded 7X formula.

The column was based on information found in an old leather-bound notebook that belonged to Pemberton’s best friend and fellow Atlanta chemist, RR Evans. Glass was intrigued and, after some digging, found that the notebook had been handed down over generations until it reached a chemist in Georgia called Everett Beal, whose widow still possesses it.

The rediscovered recipe includes extract of coca leaves, caffeine, plenty of sugar (it specifies 30 unidentified units thought to be pounds), lime juice, vanilla and caramel. Into that syrup, the all-important 7X ingredients are added: alcohol and six oils – orange, lemon, nutmeg, coriander, neroli and cinnamon. The formula is very similar to the recipe worked out by Mark Pendergrast who wrote a history of the drink in 1993 called For God, Country & Coca-Cola.

Coke’s secret recipe is, in fact, partly a myth. The soda has changed substantially over time. Cocaine, a legal stimulant in Pemberton’s day, was removed from the drink in 1904 after mounting public unease about the drug. Extract of coca leaves is still used but only after the cocaine has been removed.

In 1980, the company replaced sugar, squeezed from beet and cane, with the cheaper corn sweetener that is often found in American food and drink. Coke fans were not impressed.

Despite such occasional controversies, one element has remained constant: Coke’s commitment to keeping its own secret. Speculation about the recipe has been a popular talking point for more than a century, proving good for business. The company has reacted to the This American Life story in a way that has been typical of its commercial strategy since the 19^th century. “Many third parties have tried to crack our secret formula. Try as they might, they’ve been unsuccessful, ” Coca-Cola’s Kerry Tressler said.