This is The Mill, where I was brought up and my father and step-mum still live. When my father bought the property over 40 years ago, the mill had stopped operating as a flour mill, and the water wheel had only just been sold. It came with a fairly large house, out-buildings, which were used as stables by my father, and about ten acres.....beautiful fields with the river Ceri as a boundary, and deciduous woods whispering at the edges.
Forty six years on, and lack of maintainance has resulted in the rear wall completely falling away from the building.....I am sad about it. She is over 100 years old, and holds over ten years of my memories......precious childhood memories......she was a fantastic playhouse, with a fireplace in the corner under the stairs that went up....there are also stairs that go down.....I had an old rusty kettle hanging on a chain over the 'fire', an old broken teapot.....and a plastic tea set. I provided 'teas' for very many imaginary friends over the years.....
~ I remember ~
Races and roadtrips on a BSA Bantam 125
and a Triumph 350 twin
Another kind of triumph from a grey plastic sword
of battles fought and always won.
A pilots helmet ~ faded blue cloth ~
A foxy teapot,
a rusty iron kettle on a chain
suspended over cold ashes,
~always tea and a warm welcome,
a traditional Croeso.
Water birds in glass cases
stuffed in a pose of forever.
Old sickles and scythes with
sharp blades and
Chests of drawers,
and C.S. Lewis wardrobes
And beautiful old mirrors,
with dusty, rust~spot surfaces,
reflecting echoes of it all.