Llanelli Turk 'Cariad'

Chapter Fifteen . Cariad

Main Pic: "Uncle, the rains beginning to stop."  ... I said, as the autumn sun shone directly in to our enchanting place of solitude.

Chapter Fifteen

Cariad

Autumn 1976 age 17. Saturday morning. Half past nine.

It was raining so I dressed accordingly and cycled up and down the country lanes to my uncle's cottage.

The foliage that wasn't evergreen began to turn yellow, and the trees were breathing from their last green leaves. The countryside had an eerie quietness that made me wonder; wonder about all things beautiful, wonder about life yet to come, wonder about death that seemed to be everywhere I turned. - Referring to the fallen and falling leaves that carpeted my route.

As I approached my uncle's Georgian garden gate, I could see as well as smell the burning wood he had placed on his fire. I always felt a sense of safety and contentment at the cottage; it was away from all my burdens. The place also settled my libido that had started to flourish with age... - It was that kind of place. Away from sexy Flake adverts, glamorized television, mini-skirted teens, page three's popping up all over the place, and the many other sights that the 70's throw at ones subliminal self.

Soon to be, eighteen years old. - A passport to leave the nest?

I wondered what my wise old Uncle Hugh had to say to me, regarding my present complacent life and my forthcoming plans to find out what I was really searching for... What did I really want out of life? What's out there that attracts me? What's in it for me? The herbs didn't answer my loud thoughts. I felt a need for answers. I had to be strong and survive.

The behavior of the fully human being is always unpredictable – simply because it is FREE.

"Uncle, it's me."

"Who's me?"

"Leo." – (Who's me) ...is old-age setting in or what, I thought, privately.

"Come in... I'm on the toilet."

The book lay out on a small flimsy coffee table near his armchair, titled, Rees, D. Morgan: Mills, Mines, and Furnaces: Industrial Archaeology in Wales.

I flipped through some pages, stopping at some black and white pictures and a diagram illustrating Kidwelly tinplate works. A place I remember visiting, together with the castle, with my father when I was ten years old. - I heard the fast but short flush of the toilet. Then my uncle went to the sink to wash his hands.

"That was a short flush," I commented.

"I did it so, to save water. There's a longer flush for a ka-ka. So how's the rain?"

"Wet, but only my trousers, they'll soon dry by the fire."

"You want to take them off... arthritis you know. I have some pyjama bottoms you can wear. Take them off then, before the damp gets to the bones. I'll get the bottoms... How's your mum?"

"She's fine. She's been to Pembroke Dock to visit Henry and Daniel. Everything's been the same really, rather quite... How have you been keeping?"

"Quiet as well, as usual - but never too quiet... always find something to do. Sorry, I only have water to offer, used my last tea bag last night as an annoying gnat went into my eye. What will it be; spring, tap, boiled rain, or water laced with ginger?"

"Spring water, please uncle. Sure it isn't laced with the farmers Atrozine, or whatever you called it?"

"Sure! It's a seepage spring from a deep-water source, packed with minerals as well. All the land around here is either forestry or used for cattle grazing. Atrozine is more of a root crop chemical fertilizer, but they don't use it anymore."