Life in Rewind - Wales! Days 8-14

Immigrating from Wales in 1970 meant my parents and four older siblings walked away from everything they knew and everyone they loved while looking forward to a great unknown. My siblings told me they were permitted to carry one toy each (from their old life) onto the flight, and the family of six packed everything into a maximum of three suitcases.

With only rare, expensive phone calls home and flight costs out of reach for most, being a ten-pound pom meant no way back.

As the first Aussie born in my immigrant family, I was clueless about much. This week, I’ve enjoyed multiple meetups with many Welsh family members, most of whom I had never met before. I was told of the gaping hole and heartache my family's departure left in so many hearts all those years ago.

These past few days have consisted of intrigue, joy, laughter, a few tearful stories, and an unexpected sense of belonging. My visit began by paying my respects in the local cemetery to those I had always wanted to meet but was sadly too late for. A cemetery visit might seem odd to many, but my guiding cousin Denise thought it would establish an understanding of the stories and foundations I’d missed.

She was dead right, too. Pun apologies!

Afterwards, we toured the suburbs and old homes of our grandparents and my parents. Being in the company of unknown family members should have been awkward, but right from the get-go, it was unexpectedly comfortable. There really is something about the bonds of blood theory!

Today, another cousin put his busy life on hold to take me on a spontaneous four hour history lesson. Jeff gifted me a remarkable and memorable “walk in mum and dad's footsteps.”

I will cherish and remember what I learned and felt on this day for the rest of my life.

We passed an old building painted in a soft baby blue. It had an ordinary front door, a short red brick fence, a pretty hedge, and a humble little pale blue metal gate. The few steps up to the front door would have been thought of as stairs of dread for many back in 1788-1868 when this was the courthouse. Here, hardened and petty criminals would come to learn their fate. Many were sentenced to execution, while the lucky ones were deported to Australia.

I strolled along Stowhill, passing St. Joseph's convent. I know Mum hated attending school here. She recalled the buildings offering little protection from the cold, but the worst of her memories came from the cruelty of some of the nun-teachers back in her time.

From here, we walked Mum's path to St Mary’s Church…and to Tredegar House, where Mum also attended school during and shortly after the war. With Jeff's incredible local knowledge and passion for history and research, I felt I could sit and listen to him for months.

I stood at the altar where Mum and Dad were married 66 years prior. This same altar where Mum and four previous grandmothers were all baptised. Great uncle Richard (Dicky) Beal’s name is still displayed on a plaque in the church for losing his young life in 1942 “for his country.”

So, I lit two candles to honour not only my great uncle Dicky, but also my (Grandfather) Grancha George Pimm: killed aged 27, the day after my mum's second birthday on July 5th 1940 while aboard HMS Whirlwind D30. His ship was torpedoed, and sadly, he went down with it despite being a great swimmer.

I love the gentle lighting in Wales; it's easy on the eyes. Wales is also full of lush green fields, farmland, flowering meadows, and forests. However, to this outsider, the city centre of Newport seemed sad and a bit bleak, like it was screaming for help and new life to be injected into it.

On the upside, there is too much history to take in and retain, but I’m enjoying all of it.

Goodnight for now 1 am Wales-Time.

Day 14

Farewell, my Wales.

The dreaded final night came around last night. After waiting five decades to meet in the flesh, my cousin Denise and I sat up as late as we could, wringing every last drop out of our final few hours together. The past week I was treated like a queen. Despite the many wrestles I wasn’t allowed to do any housework and was barely permitted to pay for a thing. All I could do was sniper my phone under theirs at one or two eftpos terminals to sneak a couple of wins in.

I’ve missed Dad horribly since he passed in 2019, so hugging his eldest brother and his clone, Glyn, was the hardest goodbye. I blinked back the tears for his sake and soldiered on. But Glyn almost cracked me when he put his hand (identical to Dad's lovely hands) on my arm and said: “I’ve felt Arth (Dad) with me the entire time you’ve been here.

”Blink blink blink.”

In Wales, I was not permitted to use public transport at all, so, this morning I was driven to the airport by Lee (another gorgeous kind cousin). We chatted the hour away, talking about the history of Wales and our family. I looked out the window as we traversed the winding and often narrow roads, and I marvelled again at the various bright greens of the meadows and hills. I will miss this place and the beautiful family I leave behind in it.

So, on multiple promises and hopes of visits to Australia, I move on today.

I’m currently at Bristol airport and feeling a bit better while I sit here writing home and awaiting my easyJet flight to what seems to be a cooler Scotland…Glasgow to be exact.

…”brave hearts” n all.