Talgarth

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Alli in Glasbury

Fred took Allan fishing some time in the 1950's, when Allan was in his twenties. He had just married Norah (Nina) - (her mother used to call her No). Allan remembers wading out in Fred's waders and standing in The River Wye until the moon came up. Then Nina came and called him in. There was a shed, where they kept tea and a kettle, and when they went down, they would have tea. Alli always forgot time when he was there, in the river. They used crumbs for bait, in bottle with bottom removed to catch and watch sticklebacks. They were there to catch a trout and they did. About a year later, Alli ...read more here
A memory of Glasbury On Wye contributed by Kayte Dyson

Burning Feet

When I was about 12 years old, with feet as thick as young, strong leather, my father, who was a pilot (Allan Dyson) and Nina (my mum, Nina actually) took us all from our home on a plot of land in Halfway House in the Transvaal (some distance from a town or city) to Glasbury on Wye.
There, in the blacksmith's house, the farrier was beating iron.  We stood to watch and then the farrier asked 'What's burning?'.  We all looked at each other and sniffed.  Then I felt it.  A hot coal had made its way through the sole of my Transvaal foot and we had trouble removing it quickly enough.  My Welsh cousins were impressed with that only, my ...read more here
A memory of Glasbury On Wye contributed by Kayte Dyson

Where I started out

I was born in the War Memorial Hospital, Crickhowell in 1949. I don’t remember that bit, but I remember traveling down to Crickhowell on days out just to sit on the bridge watching the water pass by - so peaceful, outstanding scenery, I thought it was beautiful.  We lived in Brynmawr, not too far away. Then years later I loved to go down to Crickhowell in my boyfriend’s car even though he drove too fast down the country lanes.  Yes, Crickhowell is beautiful.  I will always love it there - it's my birthplace.
A memory of Crickhowell contributed by jackie haynes

LLangattock people

I did not know many of the people of the village or much of the history of the village.  However there were some who stay in my memory and to this day I often think about them. All too often I cannot remember their names.  I know nothing of their lives. Their trials and tribulations or indeed if they were born in the village.
One such person was a Mrs Baker (at least that's what I think her name was), a very elderly lady who lived in the centre of the village in an extremely small cottage at the rear of the shop.  The floor of the cottage was laid with flag stones, the walls were bare bricks and it had ...read more here
A memory of Llangattock contributed by david palfrey