Friday, 26 October 2012

Swansea - Land of our Fathers ( well our mother actually)


a map of the Gower peninsula showing Swansea and Mumbles Head
It was a mere two hours on the motorways to reach Swansea where Robert and I were born. Because we arrived just after twelve noon, we felt it was too early on a Sunday to present ourselves at the Tides Guesthouse looking for our rooms. 

town of Mumbles seen from Oystermouth Castle
Instead we parked the car and walked in to the village of Mumbles. It was a short jaunt down the promenade along the water before we cut back into the village. Not much has changed here since we were kids. We found Joe's ice cream and that is what William had for lunch. They still make it the same way with a touch of evapourated milk and it tastes like no other. They also make the ice cream sandwich (my favourite as a kid), with the same little metal mold I remember. Hold the handle with the rectangular mold on top, put in the first wafer, add the ice cream, scrape it off the top so it is flat and put the other wafer on the top. Tip it over onto greaseproof paper and serve it to the customer. Voila! A yummy lunch!!


The lighthouse of Mumbles Head
We continued our journey along the water-side walk to the pier which unfortunately has the worst of rides and slot machines for family entertainment. That wasn't there when we were kids.  But we could still see the lighthouse on the rocky cliffs of Mumbles Head, a place that has featured heavily in the stories of our family. My mother recited poetry in Welsh competitions, 'eisteddfods' when she was a young girl and we were treated to her talent in this area throughout our lives. The one that we all loved best was the epic saga called "The Women of Mumbles Head" which my mother could recite perfectly well into her upper eighties.

the stone window of the second floor chapel in Oystermouth Castle
We rounded out our afternoon of walking with a jaunt up the hill to Oystermouth Castle. In the past few years they have renovated the castle from a ruin to a lovely cared for space set in a huge expanse of lawn. It is quite the loveliest castle I have seen in a long time and they have a little visitors room where they show several different videos of the castle and its history. It was a charming surprise. 

I do some crazy things based on my brothers' suggestions
    

I am having a wonderful time with my brothers who laugh and sing and break into poetry throughout the day. Any time we are serious it is to tell a story from our childhood. It is a very special time that probably doesn't come to many siblings when they are adults.  



Mum at fifty


After a lovely afternoon, the other little surprise was that because it was Sunday and most people go out for a big lunch, the only restaurant open within walking distance was a Turkish restaurant. It was, again, surprisingly good!


We have come to Swansea specifically to have a memorial service for our late mother. On Monday, our cousin, Dafydd, a minister, officiated at a touching service in cousin Mary's church. It was attended by about fifty people. Most of them were our cousins and family but one of my mother's sisters, Joan, was there.  Some church members and others, who were distant relatives,  had seen the announcement in the local paper and rounded out the numbers. My brothers and I were thrilled. Besides all the stories we heard, the unknown family members we met and the graciousness of the ladies who catered the tea afterwards, what will remain with me is the singing. Dafydd had us practice the two hymns he had included in the service and invited us to sing them in either Welsh or English. I didn't see how this could work but I was amazed as the fifty strong "welsh choir", that would be all us ordinary folks, raised our voices and produced a truly incredible sound. 

The Jones family
Afterwards,our immediate family, adjourned to the Tides B&B where our hostess, Mary, provided us with a delicious supper in her charming breakfast room.  Not all the family living in Swansea could make it to the service and supper but the ones who could all had a good time reminiscing, telling stories from our childhood, showing family pictures, and meeting the newer generation of "Joneses". This was a manageable number as my cousin told us all that our grandmother and grandfather had 176 descendents to date and, as the eldest grandchild, I am one of the few that have grandchildren. That number will grow by leaps and bounds in the next few years.

these children are all in the family picture above

During the course of the next day we spread Mum's ashes at two family grave- sites and then in the sea at Mumbles Head. It was a challenging time emotionally but one which was helped by our cousin, Mary, who accompanied us and by Auntie Joan, Mum's youngest sister. Our choice of places to spread the ashes came from places that were dear to our mother.

the three of us at great grandmother, Rachel's, grave
First came Mynedd Bach cemetery where our great grandmother, Rachel, is buried. Unfortunately the cemetery has not been kept up and we had to wade through thigh-high grass and cut back brambles to reach her tombstone. Luckily, Mary knew where it was. Our mother is named after our great-grandmother and the family story is that, at the tender age of 27 , she was struck by lightning on her front doorstep. She died a few days later of complications from the pneumonia that ensued, leaving behind five children. My grandfather, who was five at the time, missed his mother terribly for his entire life and never quite took to the "new mother" my great-grandfather subsequently married. It was this branch of the "new family" that allowed us to meet hitherto unknown relatives at our mother's memorial service. My mother was named Rachel after her grandmother and one of the comments she treasured most was one of my grandfather 's. He said, " I named you after the right one, Rachel, bach!"

Catherine reads poetry while William does the honours
 
After we cleared away the plant growth we realized what a beautiful grave and marker our great-grandmother had, courtesy of her quite wealthy father. We read a few of Mum's favourite poems as we scattered her ashes on the grave of the Rachel who had died far too young. 





After lunch we picked up Auntie Joan and made our way to our grandmother and grandfather's grave - our Mamgu and Dadcu,  as they say in Wales. This required a little surreptitious sprinkling as the grave is in a well-kept and well-used cemetery. Again we read a poem but thankfully this time, the emotion of Mynedd Bach  did not rise up and choke us.

in front of our Mamgu and Dadcu's grave


And then we went to the original Joe's Ice-Cream Parlour,  to have a traditional ice cream: the nutty cone for Rob and Auntie Joan and Mary and the ice cream sandwich for William and me.  Because this is how the Jones family celebrates special occasions --- we eat!
After we delivered our relatives back home it was time for our last and most important stop to say good-bye to Mum.

Before we did, we visited our childhood home: the house where I was born. The street looks much the same but the back gardens are very different. Gone is my grandfather's green-house with all those tomatoes strung high to the ceiling and smelling so wonderful.
51 Bryn Street: where I was born



We thought we would visit my grandfather's pub The Dilwyn Arms  and have a little drink before we drove down to the Mumbles. Although it looks just the same on the outside as it always did, it was a very depressing place and quite empty. We had a brief chat with the waitress but couldn't bare to remember beloved family members there.

We drove down the coast to Mumbles Head, just past the village of Mumbles where we were staying.  Apparently, our mother was very good at elocution in her youth, winning cash prizes frequently in the various Eisteddfod festivals. As children, we were often treated to her poems but the one that was always our favourite was "The Women of Mumbles Head" - an epic tale of a ship that went down in a gale off the rocky promontory that is known as Mumbles Head. We wanted to honour her love of poetry and this poem in particular by leaving a little of Mum in the sea at Mumbles. It was a bit of a treacherous trip down the cliff as the waves crashed against the rocks and I let my two brothers make the final descent to the water's edge with our mother's ashes.
 Mumbles Head: a final resting place in the sea for our mother

When they made their way back up to where I was sitting, we sat quietly for quite a while as the sun was making its steady way toward the horizon. There was nothing but the howling wind and the pounding waves and then Robert recited the poem one last time.





"Bring novelists your notebook
 



















 Bring dramatists your pen
 















And I'll tell you a simple story of what women did for men....."





And so we leave our roots, our birth home and the memories of many family stories told to us over the years by our beloved mother, Rachel Jones Turner.

the Welsh flag flies atop Oystermouth castle







 

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

The Cotswalds -- so cute

the area of the Cotswalds we toured

I just love the Cotswalds and I am so glad that my brothers and I decided on a couple of days in this area to relax and get over our jet lag.


The main square of Castle Combe


After we picked up our car at the airport on Thursday morning, we set the GPS courtesy of Minas, for Stratford-upon-Avon.  Unfortunately, Aphrodite, the GPS, whom Robert has now named Jezebel, was still programmed from our bicycle trip to eliminate highways. It took us a while to realize that and then we stopped to buy a real map and ask for directions. 

The house of the Bard in Stratford-Upon-Avon
On the motorway we made better time and soon were in Stratford-Upon-Avon where the first order of business was lunch; as we were starving.  After that, we strolled about trying to avoid bumping into tourists and minding to look right when crossing the street: no small feat when you have crossed the ocean and have been awake for far too many hours in a row.



 I was the one who wanted to see the birthplace of the bard but it was quite disappointing. Apart from the house itself and the swans on the river running through it, Stratford is mostly a tourist destination full of small gift shops and plenty of bus tours. We did not stay long.



 

the old covered market in Chipping Campden
We soon made our way to Chipping Camden which is a delightful little market town where we wandered around and took plenty of pictures, especially Robert who can't seem to get enough of the stone buildings.

We finally made our way to our delightful and out of the way country inn, The Green Dragon where a drink in the cosy pub and a good dinner in their restaurant was all we had in us before we turned in for bed.
the Green Dragon Inn near Cowley

the scenery near Cowley
The Cotswalds are lovely but the roads are very narrow, our vehicle is large and everyone drives like crazy men. The country-side and the villages would be lovely for biking but there is no edge to the road, no room to cycle and way too many cars going far too fast. William is doing a terrific job of driving and I am doing my best to navigate using a combination of the GPS and a map.

 


Will and Rob


Rob and William are lots of fun. They tease me unmercifully, sing and burst into poetry or off colour jokes and comments and we often reminisce about the stories about Mum and Dad from our childhood. I think we are achieving  our goal for this trip: of re-connecting as siblings and honouring the memories we have of our parents.


Rob finds a hat


The weather is sunny but cool. Yesterday we walked the Cotswald country-side for 6 hours - must have covered at least 12 km. It was Rob's idea and it seemed like a good way to counteract the jet lag and get us moving again. At first we wandered uphill on narrow tracks gazing at the sheep and taking large numbers of pictures.

In one tree covered lane, my brothers thought a fencing match might be a good idea.  I caught it on video and we showed it over and over again that evening finding it funnier with each viewing. Unfortunately I can't seem to upload it to the blog.


hiking through a field of horses in the Cotswalds
Of course, the path took us through fields of horse and cows, not my favourite creatures to be sharing space with, and of course, we got lost. That took us back to those narrow edgeless roads and lunch in a pretty horrible road-side inn. We took our lives in our hands walking on the road for a while before we found a parallel walkable field and then a path across the fields back to the hotel. 



Catherine in the public stocks in Stow-on-the-Wold
By mid-afternoon we reached the Green Dragon and I decided we needed a bit more of a cultured environment before dinner. The boys humoured me and we set off for Stow-on-the-Wold, a quaint little place where my brothers promptly put me in the stocks. It didn't take us long to finish our wandering as the shops were shutting down and the last of the tourists were pulling out.


Back in the car, we found that the traffic was busy so we decided on one more stop in Lower Slaughter and this was a delightful decision. No cars, no tourists, just an adorable little village and perfect light for picture-taking. We rather thought that the inhabitants of this village tried to keep visitors out and there were certainly no shops or cafes to loiter in. However there was a lovely posh hotel with acres of green lawn on the far side of the tiny river at the entrance to the town. Looked like an idyllic place to spend a romantic week-end.

Rob takes pictures

the old mill wheel of Lower Slaughter

W e had enjoyed a fantastic day but were happy to return to the warm and cosy pub of The Green Dragon for late afternoon drinks in the pub, more silliness and then dinner.

the houses along the canal at Castle Combe

On Saturday, we headed toward Bath for a day of wandering about this gracious old city which was highly recommended by William. Unfortunately, when we were nearing the town, the line-up to get off the motorway was exceedingly long and was moving at a snail's pace. After fifteen minutes of this, we opted to get out of the line and spend the day visiting more cute Cotswald villages. 

Rob and Will and the cottages used by the hotel in Castle Combe


We first took in Castle Combe which is absolutely charming and perfectly kept partly due to the fact that the fancy manor hotel had bought up a number of the nearby cottages for guest accommodation. We spent some time wandering and more sitting at an outdoor cafe watching the people.




stopping at the Catherine Wheel in Bibury

We then decided to move on, heading for the Rick Steeves recommended Moreton-on-Marsh. It got late and we settled for closer Bibury which was full of tourists and disappointing compared to other Cotswald villages. We did enjoy a stop for a snack and a libation at the old coach inn called The Catherine Wheel - an appropriate name for our rolling escapades.


a home owner's translation of No Trespassing



We did think the signs found in this town, as so many other English towns, to be quite hilarious. The English never use one word when fourteen will do. But we loved to read them aloud to each other, often puzzling over what the heck these people were trying to communicate.



And then it was back to our lovely pub for more good food and a nice bottle of wine.


And did I mention that I love the Cotswalds?

the limestone facades gleam in the sunlight

William takes a picture





And did I mention that my brothers are always taking pictures........







not always happy to be disturbed

 


and did I mention that they are not always happy to be disturbed at their work.














But we are having a good time and we are now off to the second installment --- Wales!