BODYFUDDAU IN EARLY DAYS AND SOME LOVELY PLACES IN THE LOCALITY

	This is ali, an Iranian ex-student of mine who came up with me when I moved to help with everything, because, as he put it -'I owe my English to you'. I don't know how I'd have managed without him those first three weeks. His permanent memorial is in the very old downstairs doors which ali stripped of their paint and restored. You can see it had been a hard day.
	Day one at Bodyfuddau. This is actually the barns in the attached farmyard belonging to my neighbour Gareth. While Ali and I were unloading the vans the cats went exploring their new territory. Paddy is heading for the gap followed by her son Pussy Bach. Daughter Kapok is peering out from the rock mounting block on the left.
	Not, as you might think, a terrorist, but Ali making Iranian potato cakes in interval between sanding the doors. They were delicious.
	This is the house several years later. When I bought it, it had been empty some time and was surrounded by stinging nettles and puddles. The story of finding it will get to this site when I have written it in English. If anyone wants to read it in Welsh, go via the Welsh pages.
	Well, we'll see how this comes out on the air, so to speak. It doesn't look too good here compared to the photo. It was one of the frequent wonderful sunsets looking west from here.

	Blackrock sands. In the summer a favourite place with picnickers and holiday makers, but in winter a treat for the dogs and me.
	Afon Prysor, which is across one field from Bodyfuddau.

On the far bank is the commentator BBC fashion.

Spectators watching the fate of their ducks. The first duck at the end netting wins the prize for whoever has the ticket with its number.

The ducks [plastic with numbers on] are tipped over the bridge.

The man with the stick was a local character who went by the name of Gwyn Bach. He was a retired shepherd and had the best laughing dog I've ever met.