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