The Rellies
Ah the book, the writing, the whole shebang. Absolutely no news, except I have embarked on Book 3. Not because it is an additional point of entry, but because it is partly written and just needs expanding and most of the research has been done. Lazy? No, new arrival means my life revolves around baby and sleep, the rest gets filled in when it can. At least until we move to a full night's sleep. I reckon I can get close to half way before I need to do major research in Aberystwyth once more.
Just returned from parents golden wedding. 50 years marriage! I asked my Dad what the secret was and he said 'seperate bathrooms.'
He has also embarked on researching his ancestry using ancestry.co.uk. I've been dabbling a bit, as it is possible to do net searches with one hand as you hold the baby in the other... It would appear the Roberts family of Llandegla are a normal bunch of 19th Century. We have a blacksmith, farmer, and some poor kids who ended up in service. A lead mine worker also appeared, which holds a certain irony for me, given the background to my saga. It will be interesting when we research his mother's side as I know his Taid was the village castrator!
The answer
I hurry along the streets of Aberystwyth on a Sunday morning. It's not busy, as I take the side streets to the old castle. The sun is shining and it's quite warm. There's a seagull calling noisily somewhere and it echoes off the walls of the tall houses.
I reach the castle and quickly take the path up to the top of the wall. It's a hike, I'm showing my age. I'm showing how unfit I have become. I reach the top and allow myself a rest. It's very warm now, but the breeze makes it bearable. I look out to sea, it's a flat pond. There are a few boats out there, some milking the breeze for all its worth. The effect is like paper boats on a lake in the park. The tide is in and it's covered the Victorian paddling pool. It strokes the shore with a benign sweep.
There's activity at the ice cream stall, a man sits on a folding chair at one of the turrets that jut out of the promenade, lost to the morning.
I soak up the atmosphere. I remember what I miss and what I have lost.
Swn y Mor
The sound of the sea. Once a fine Welsh whisky, now a thought of one of the many things that give me hiraeth when I am on the verge of returning home to Aberystwyth for a quick visit.
My folks have a Golden Wedding anniversary party, which will be fun.
What is it i miss?
The sound of the sea? The smell of salt in the air? The sunsets, where the sun disappears over the horizon of Caardigan Bay casting pastel shades over the water? Waves crashing on the pebbly beaches causing a rattling of stone, like some manic giant dice throw. A lone fishing boat at sea in the evening glow. Otters at play in the harbour? Walking the castle ruins imagining a land long ago. Rolling green hills, wonderful waterfalls. The ubiquitous little steam trains. Red kites soaring above the woodland, looking for the kill. Buzzards sitting on telegraph poles in a snow capped vista. Tranquil lakes to sit by and idly dream the day away. Winberry bushes on the hills. Welsh cakes. Brains Dark. Cawl???
I think i should go and find out.
(no sheep jokes please, don't spoil the moment)
