Abergwesyn

Many years ago my father with his second wife and young family rented a cottage in the little Welsh village of Abergwesyn. They had a problem. Their car gear box failed and guess what? British Leyland were on strike and so there was no chance of a new one. They extended a holiday until the next lot of visitors were due and still there was no car for them.

We were asked to go on a mission of mercy and rescue them. We could stay overnight by camping in the garden at The Post Office. Our love affair with that part of Wales began. It is a glorious, still unspoilt area and if ever we are heading out that way, we’ll find an excuse to travel through Abergwesyn and take the road on to Tregaron.

It must have been around 1974 for I have a photo I took of my half-sister in the Post Office garden. She was born in 1973.

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The man who had the Post Office was called Dai Jones. He was as Welsh as could be and an absolutely delightful man. He had so much knowledge of all sorts; the sort of knowledge that people who stay hefted to one area get. It is so much deeper than the quick overview of the traveller, on a mind broadening experience. Travellers often consider men like Dai to be shallow but I wouldn’t wish to favour one way of life over another. Or maybe I would, by saying for me the deep knowledge is more what I go for, but balance it with some travel.

It was always good to call on Dai after that initial visit. We’d be sure of a warm welcome and could catch up on his news whilst he listened to ours.

One of the little things that Dai did was platting binder or baler twine into a rope. It was wonderful, when visiting the area in the year 2000, years after Dai had passed on, to come across a bit of Dai Jones rope.

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This length was being used to fasten a gate. Wonderful!

Let’s have a bit of fairly local scenery to end with.

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This waterfall is by a junction with the road down to Llyn Brianne – where stands the loneliest telephone box I know.

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It must be time to travel again. I’d like to get back there!

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