Visiting Hay is always a pleasure. It's popping broad beans to eat raw in the garden with a glass of wine. It's barbecuing halloumi in the garden on an old fire grate. It's waiting patiently for the greater spotted woodpeckers who visit daily to make their appearance. In short, it's hard to leave, but leave we did, to Merthyr, home, and a first visit to my great aunt Marion. Marion lives alone in Cefn Coed, almost on the part of the Taff Trail which sweeps over the river on a grand curved viaduct. Marion has lived in Cefn Coed her whole life, and it was in pools under that viaduct that she described swimming as a girl - the shallower pools were for the girls, the more daring swims the reserve of the boys who would also plunge into the water from the branches of trees. We asked her if her parents - non swimmers - minded her swimming, but 'no, well they didn't know'. Marion taught herself to swim and described it well, 'if you want to swim, well, you try and try and try, and eventually you pick your feet up off the floor and you're swimming'. Quite!
After Marion's (and a promise to her that we'd return later with the homemade fudge I'd promised but that I'd left sweating in the car boot) we went to my parents, were mildly assaulted by their staffie Charlie, had lunch and then went on to Dowlais library, to try to do some research on swimming spots in Merthyr. Specifically the ones my Dad remembers my grandfather taking him to. No success as yet, although I have been sent this old image from Alan George's Old Merthyr Tydfil website.
And so on to Tenby, to the place I most associate with childhood holidays, buckets and spades, 2p slot machines, soft sticks of rock and most of all glorious, gorgeous, golden beaches. After forcing Clare to partake in the Thomas family tradition of chanting "Tenby Tenby Tenby" on first site of the sea, we parked and unfurled our cramped legs on the promenade over looking North Beach (everyone else was ignoring the double yellows so why not us?). Walking down the steep stone steps to the beach, we looked out for Carl and Kate, who had contacted us through facebook and generously agreed to share an evening of their holiday with us. They were staying in an apartment virtually on the beach and our first sight of them was of Kate waving from their window above us, already in her swimsuit. We changed quickly and got into the water, Carl and Kate by far the more competent swimmers and looking the part in their matching yellow swimming caps. We bobbed around in the waters around Goscar Rock in the warmth of the evening sun, and then post swim were invited for cake and tea (an outdoor swimming tradition, especially in winter. Kate is well known for her cakes at her local Tooting Bec lido).Both Kate and Carl had some fantastic stories about the outdoor swimming that they've done. They didn't meet through swimming, Carl is an extremely experienced swimmer whose exploits are too many to detail here, but do take a look at his blog (http://musingsofanaquaticape.wordpress.com) and I'm looking forward to reliving them on the recording we made. Anyway, in order to spend more time with Carl, Kate became a swimmer too, and they both look very well on it indeed. It was lovely to meet them and listen to swimmers of such passion, experience and wisdom.
Leaving Tenby, temporarily, we moved on to Manorbier - a small village just West, where we were staying for the night in, to my pure joy, a tiny caravan at the bottom Clare's friend Angela's garden.
Becca
