A DREAM COME TRUE

In 1956 I was working in Shropshire and I went to Wales for five days because I wanted to see some mountains for the first time in my life. I got a train from Shrewsbury to Porthmadog. The train was called the Cambrian Coast Express and it took five hours to reach Porthmadog, but every moment was lovely. From Porthmadog I walked to Capel Curig and I fell in love with Wales the moment I saw Moel Siabod. Ever since then I used to come to Wales whenever I had three days together - one day to drive there, one to stay and one to drive back.

In 1985 I was at last able to move to Wales and I wrote to every estate agent in North Wales to find a house with a little bit of land. I wanted a stream too because I had a dream of keeping ducks and that is hard work without running water. Most estate agents ignored my request for a stream, perhaps because I did not have enough cash to spend. Some estate agents sent publicity for houses with gardens and a trout stream for three times the money I had. I threw these straight in the waste-paper basket and did not expect to get a stream.

At last I came with a friend for four days to look at all the houses I had collected. All Friday and Saturday we drove and looked at houses. The only two houses that I really liked were on top of mountains without a road or even a proper track to them, so it would have been impossible for me to live there alone as I grew old. On Saturday evening we were in the village of Croesor at 8 o’clock before we realised that we were nearly out of petrol. As every garage was closed I said we should find somewhere to spend the night. My friend said, ‘Go back down to the main road and turn left and you’ll be on the road to Dolgellau. We can spend the night there.’ She was right and as we drove a nuclear power station, she asked what it was. I had seen the power station from across the lake at Trawsfynydd but form the main road it looks different, and worse. I was puzzling about what it could be and was driving very slowly. So I saw the sign for Trawsfynydd.

‘Ah,’ I exclaimed, ‘Now I know where we are. This village has a garage and a nice pub that does supper as well as bed and breakfast. All our troubles are over.’ We went into the pub and ordered supper. While they were preparing our food we sat at the bar to look at the pieces of paper and decide where to go the next day. It was obvious what we were doing and someone asked me if I had found anything yet. Then someone asked what sort of house I wanted. The conversation was quite casual and I just described my dream house.

‘I’d like a house on its own but not right away from everyone, built of stone, old. It doesn’t matter what size or condition, as long as I can afford to buy it and live in it and a garden isn’t important but with a bit of land, any rough bit of land will do, in sight of the mountains, not far from a river and, if possible, with a stream.’

An impossible dream!

‘A friend of mine is selling a house like that,’ said the woman behind the bar. 'I’ll phone him.’ And that is how I bought Bodyfuddau. It means everything to me. I’ve lived here now for fourteen years. I have very friendly neighbours, two sheepdogs and lovely ducks. I live in Paradise.

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