Wales 3: Laugharne: peaceful spot; Dylan Thomas’s grave; breakfasts

In 1953, driven by financial pressures, Dylan Thomas undertook his fourth American tour in three years. He collapsed into a coma in his New York hotel and was taken to hospital. Caitlin was rushed to New York, and she brought her husband's body back to Laugharne. 

On our first day in Laugharne, Valerie and I stumbled across a cemetery that we thought might contain Dylan Thomas’s grave. It proved not to be so, but this peaceful place yielded some lovely old verse, and glimpses of the estuary:  

Laugharne, a old cemetery       Photo: Ann Barrie

We later ascertained that Dylan Thomas was buried in the new graveyard at St Martin’s church, and we set off to find this the following day.

Dylan Thomas, reminiscing about his childhood, said, “The lane was always the place to tell your secrets; if you did not have any you invented them.” The lane in the following photo leads to the old graveyard at St Martin’s Church, which we had thought might be a shortcut to the new graveyard. When we reached the bottom of the lane, we found the area fenced off due to work being done in the church grounds, so we had to retrace our steps. Nonetheless, I found the lane evocative. 

Laugharne, Wales        Photo: Ann Barrie

Signposts directed us to Dylan Thomas’s grave. Another visitor arrived shortly after us, and he said, “I’m on a pilgrimage. It’s a pity the grave is so simple.” Valerie, however, felt strongly that Dylan Thomas would not have wanted anything fancy, and I agree. The grave is well maintained, and the lettering is crisp and clean; along the top is a row of coins left by pilgrims to the grave. 

Laugharne, Dylan Thomas's grave     Photo: Ann Barrie

Caitlin Thomas moved to Italy a few years after her husband died, and she died in Catania, Sicily, at the age of eighty. She is buried next to her husband in the new graveyard of St Martin's church, and is commemorated on the other side of the cross:

Laugharne, Caitlin Thomas's grave     Photo: Ann Barrie

Valerie and I ended that day with light meal of cottage pie – savoury minced meat with a crispy mashed potato topping – at Brown’s Hotel. This was Dylan Thomas’s favourite pub, and he would drink here every evening, with Caitlin accompanying him. (“If I had not, I would have lost him,” she said.) Dating from the 1750s, Brown’s Hotel has been redecorated, and is atmospheric with Dylan Thomas memorabilia scattered around. The girl who served us had a lovely singsong accent.

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Our hosts at the Boathouse, who were new to the B&B business, gave us excellent breakfasts. He was from Essex, a lover of fresh produce, and he would describe to us each day the seasonal fruits he had put into the fruit salad – nectarines, raspberries, strawberries, cherries, melon, cape gooseberries. He was in charge of the cooking department too, and he managed my poached eggs by removing the pot of simmering water from the stove, then swirling the water just before he dropped in the eggs. His hash browns tasted healthy and good, and he shared his secret: after squeezing all the water out of the grated potato, and adding egg and finely chopped onion, he would bake the hash browns in the oven.

Blog by Ann Barrie

Wales 2: Laugharne: Dylan Thomas and the Boat House

Dylan Thomas spent the last four years of his life, 1949-1953, living with his wife and children in the Boat House at Laugharne. In his book Quite early one morning he wrote: “I have been living now for fifteen years or more in this timeless, beautiful, barmy (both spellings) town … nowhere like it anywhere at all.”

The Boat House, Laugharne                 Photo: Ann Barrie

The Boat House is a place of pilgrimage for many people, and I was pleased that Valerie and I visited first thing in the morning, while it was still quiet. For three hours we wandered through the furnished rooms, enjoying the memorabilia, reading newspaper accounts, listening to recordings and studying the photos on the walls. One photo shows Dylan Thomas and his wife Caitlan in the ferry (rowboat) that used to run between Laugharne and the Llangain Peninsula; they look windblown and relaxed; in the boat with them is a woman, stylishly dressed.  Another photo shows assembled friends and family, including Thomas's mother, Florence, at the Pelican Hotel the day of his funeral in 1953.

Playing continuously was a recording of Dylan Thomas reading Under Milk Wood, his famous radio drama set in Laugharne, which he wrote in 1953. Thomas spoke with a rich voice honed by elocution lessons in his youth; he did not have a Welsh accent. We studied Under Milk Wood at high school, and senior pupils performed it to an audience. I vividly recall the beautiful face and dark hair of a girl one year older than me, who spoke a soliloquy wearing a long, white nightdress.

In one of the letters on display, written before his marriage, Dylan Thomas told Caitlan Macnamara how much he loved her, and he begged her, “Write to me soon and tell me you really mean what you said about loving me too. If you don’t, I shall cut my throat or go to the pictures.” He and Caitlan married in the Penzance Registry Office in 1937. He had numerous affairs with other women.

A video, playing on a continuous loop, gave  an insight into his childhood in Swansea. I am not familiar with Swansea, and I imagined it to be industrial, but the young Dylan Thomas had a large wooded park at the end of his street where his imagination was allowed to run free. The video also gave clues to what made Dylan Thomas a literary man: his father had a first class honours degree from the University College of Wales, and Dylan Thomas grew up in a house full of books; also, he had the opportunity, as a youth, to associate with intellectuals in Swansea.

The video made the point that Dylan Thomas’s environment had to be specific, and, most important, it had to include Wales. In this teens he enjoyed living a Bohemian life in London, but he always returned to Wales.  Although he was found unfit for military service, World War II forced him away, again and again, from Wales – he became a professional radio broadcaster in 1943, as this provided an income. (His financial woes are well documented.)

Although the Boathouse appears a reasonable size, it would have been hard for Dylan Thomas to find a quiet spot in which to work. He did his writing in a shed converted from a small garage. As you see from the following photo, the room is set up with Thomas’s jacket thrown over a chair, and pictures from magazines on the wall. His daughter, Aeronwy Thomas, in her memoir My Father’s Places, explains that it was Caitlan who pinned these pictures to the wall, and Dylan did not pay them much attention. Caitlan would usher him to the shed every afternoon and guard his writing time. 

Dylan Thomas's writing shed, Laugharne    Photo: Ann Barrie

Dylan Thomas's writing shed, Laugharne    Photo: Ann Barrie

Before leaving the Boat House we enjoyed a cup of coffee in the tearooms. Here is a photo of the Welsh language menu (the first entries translate to Beverages – Teas – pot of tea per person; and under Coffees the first entry is Regular coffee). The Welsh language is compulsory for all children at primary school; I admire the single-mindedness of the Welsh in doing this, and in promoting their language in general. 

Menu at the Boat House tearooms, Laugharne   Photo: Ann Barrie

 We drank our coffee outdoors, overlooking the giant Tafe estuary which was calm and flat, and very quiet with only the sounds of gulls. We heard a series of distant booms and saw a cloud of smoke on Pendine Sands; the curator told us the Defence Department owns Pendine Sands and do exercises in the area; it is possible to walk there, but part of the beach is closed off from Monday to Friday.

As we departed, I asked the curator how many visitors come to the Boat House each year. He said 20,000, which is a manageable number for a small building.

Blog by Ann Barrie

Wales 1: Arrival in Laugharne ; Dylan Thomas

My friend Valerie, from high school days, has lived in England for years, and we have often holidayed together. When I told her I would be in the UK in July 2017, she suggested we go to Laugharne, a village in South West Wales that is strongly associated with Dylan Thomas. I was delighted at the coincidence, as I was studying one of Thomas's poems at the time, the beautiful villanelle Do not go gentle into that good night, and I had myself written a villanelle.

Valerie and I drove along the motorways from Sevenoaks, Kent: the M25, the M3, then a bypass road for twenty-five miles, and then onto the M4. The roads were busy, as always in England, but the traffic flowed; Valerie is well used to driving in these conditions. At lunch time, we stopped at a services area and bought takeaway espressos, plus hot milk, from Starbucks; then we sat on the grass under some spindly trees and picnicked on egg and salad rolls, tomatoes, tiny sweet mincemeat tarts and Jazz apples ... The M4 took us over the graceful Second Severn Crossing into Wales; then we travelled on the A40 and the A4066 into Carmarthenshire and the village of Laugharne.

Laugharne lies on the shores of Carmarthan Bay on the huge estuary of the River Tâf. There are notices in the car park near the estuary warning people that high tides that can wash over cars parked there. To your left as you face the sea, is Laugharne Castle, dramatic in its profile. There were large black rooks perched on the ramparts of the ruined castle – they are often attracted to ruins. This photo of Laugharne Castle was taken the evening of our arrival; the dappled sky above is what the French would call un ciel pommelé. 

Laugharne Castle   Photo: Ann Barrie

Our Bed and Breakfast was in Gosport Street, in an eighteenth century building that once formed part of a hotel. You can see it behind Dylan Thomas’s right shoulder in this photo. 

Laugharne      Photo: Ann Barrie

Our hosts greeted us with a pot of tea, and generous slices of bara brith, a Welsh fruit loaf.

                Bara brith                                    Photo: Ann Barrie                                        

Valerie and I shared a large rectangular room, very comfortable, with creamy white plaster walls. It had been renovated with rustic touches. Two-thirds the way along the room, toward the ensuite at the back, was an exposed load-bearing beam – one side of the beam was supported by a column of old Welsh bricks; the other side by newer bricks. The front of the room had a small bay window that looked onto the footpath – to the left of our view, diagonally cross the street, was a small green area surrounded by a low stone wall, with well-tended gardens, garden seats, and an interpretive board ...

Laugharne and estuary of River Tâf            Photo: Ann Barrie

... and beyond this, mesmerising, was the castle. The next photo was taken in the late afternoon. The broad sweep of lawn between the castle and the marsh, is a popular place for walking; there are benches, too, so you can soak up the sun and the view.

Laugharne Castle                                       Photo: Ann Barrie

A note on windows that look onto the footpath: When I have walked past such windows in Mexico, France and other countries, enjoying the architecture and lace curtains, I have sometimes inadvertently peeped in on people, got a glimpse of their lives. The same happens to me at my own house in Wellington. The downstairs living room looks onto a footpath and road (there is a narrow courtyard and fence between), and beyond this is the dramatic Cook’s Strait; we have a picture window in order to take advantage of this view. I have found that people walking past respect our privacy and restrict themselves to quick glances in our direction – I never feel that my living room is a fishbowl.

This is the first in a series of five blogs.

Blog by Ann Barrie