April 1968: First Visit to Wales

On April 11, 1968, I stepped off a train in Cardiff and met my penpal S and her husband K -- the first of many times over 45 years that I would enjoy their warm hospitality.

S and I had corresponded for seven or eight years, and exchanged photos, but there is nothing like meeting someone in person to cement a friendship begun on paper. I had recently turned 21; S was just a year older, and recently married.

She and K gave me a wonderful welcome, showing me all the local sights -- Caerphilly Castle, Castell Coch, St. Fagan's Welsh Folk Museum (now known as St. Fagans: National History Museum), and more -- which I always remember when I wear the pewter and green stone medallion above, a gift from S that first weekend. Their friendship, hospitality, and generosity over the years has influenced my life in many ways.

Below are excerpts from a letter I wrote to my mother a few days later about my first impressions of Wales and its people. The italicized words in parentheses were added by me today for clarity.


(On Saturday morning) we stopped by the first of a long string of relatives' houses -- S and K's parents and aunts and uncles and sisters live about 10 minutes apart in various directions. Every relative was extremely friendly and cordial, and all said to stop back in anytime I was back (in Caerphilly).

The Welsh countryside is lovely -- all mountains and valleys. Lots of sheep -- old stone fences -- narrow country lanes, big enough for only 1 small car. And the Welsh accent is much lovelier than London -- very musical, up-and-down.

(On Saturday evening) we went to the Top Rank Ballroom in Cardiff -- for 18 and over (6 bars), big band... (then) we went out into the country for a late dinner at a pub -- I had chicken, french fries, peas, and dessert for about $1.10! And four glasses of sherry (Bristol Cream, of course). We didn't go until the pub closed at midnight -- then K decided we needed the stimulation of a "paddle" in the ocean, so we went down to Barry and went wading in the Atlantic at 1 a.m.! We were the only people on the beach -- lots of it, as it was low tide -- we went wild, running up and down the beach!

Judging from all the people I (have) met, they (the Welsh) have the strength of the Scots, the unshakableness of the English, and the emotional response of the Irish, mixed with a little madness.

(I meant "madness" in the sense of "spontaneity" and "playfulness" in that last phrase, not "craziness"!)