I’m not sure why I feel so Welsh.
Though I do.
I always have.
I grew up in Birmingham in the UK. But my family hails from Wales (and before that Ireland) and we spent every holiday in our caravan in a Welsh camping ground. Mostly we stayed at a small village near Rhyl.
Perhaps it’s because of the happiest memories: of forest walks and mountain climbs. Donkey rides on the stony beach. Hot chips in newspaper, the salt rough on my lips. Ice-cream cones melting down my wrist. Vinegar on bee stings and bulls in green fields. Waggly tails on black faced lambs. Even in summer, it rained like old ladies and sticks (mae hi’n bwrw hen wragedd a ffyn). Spots hammered against the caravan windows, and we grabbed books and jigsaw puzzles to wait for the sun to come out.
When I first started writing my short story (the one that turned into an urban fantasy novel, you can read about that here) the setting was always Wales in my head. No-one wants to read paragraphs of description anymore, so the trick is to give a snippet of setting in context that sets the scene for readers. I hope I’ve achieved that!
My father, like a dog with two tails (fel ci efo dau gynffon), remembered a few words of Welsh at the end of his life and told us stories of scrumping apples, catching rabbits for dinner, and doing anything to avoid working in the pits. That’s how we ended up in Birmingham!
Knowing who I am makes me stronger.
How about you? Do you know where you come from? Does it help you to understand who you are?
Until next time, Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn (The dragon will show the way).
I sorely wish I remembered those holidays in Wales. You’re description of them makes me feel like maybe a tiny bit is somewhere in my memory banks. I named my little house (here in SW Victoria) Rarebit Cottage as a salute to my Welsh forebears. One thing I do know for sure is that if I ever travel outside of Australia again, it will be to Wales. I’d like to show my wonderful Dad that it’s no longer the place he “escaped” all those years ago.
I am sure its there in your memories – we have photos of you sitting on the stile and laughing like the happiest girl in the world!! 🙂 xx
My paternal grandfather left Wales to escape the mines. (He started work at about 12 as a collier’s assistant.). I’ve never lived there but with a name like Huw David Thomas it’s hard to escape my roots!
Plus we also had many family camping holidays in Wales when I was young… and visits to see great aunts and uncles with names like Bronwen and Mervyn.
Thank you for stopping by Huw 🙂 and I can see you would have to change your name if you ever did want to escape your Welshness! Lols 🙂
Beautiful pictures! I wish I could boast such a colorful history. Alas, Oklahoma isn’t nearly as picturesque.
Thanks for stopping by Rhenna 🙂 I’d love to see some pictures of Oklahoma one day!
Hi Kim and fellow student on 101,
I have enjoyed your blog here, and congratulations on your books.
When I was quite young my camping parents descovered the estuary near Harlech. They both liked to fish for sea bass and as kids we set lines for the incoming tide.
We share soome similar memories of our holidays.
I think you are in Australia? My daughter lives in Sydney .
Catchup soon on 101 🙂
Roz Hill