Just a couple of the lime kilns at Watton on the Brecon to Abergavenny Canal
Long, long time ago
A time that we’ve forgotten
Preceding the pain
As we try hard to forget
Her gentle breathing belies
Bedd Gelert – Pronounced Bathe Gel-aert (with a hard ‘g’) means Gelert’s Grave. The village is in North Wales, and no visit to the area is complete without visiting this grave.
And it is a grave; a grave with a legend attached. The legend has a number of versions, all essentially telling the same story. I will merely repeat what is written on the grave stones. (The one on the left is in English, the one on the right is in Welsh.)
In the 13th century, Llewelyn, Prince of North Wales, had a palace at Beddgelert.
One day, he went hunting without Gelert, “the faithful hound” who was unaccountably absent. On Llewelyn’s return, the truant, stained and smeared with blood, joyfully sprang to meet his master. The Prince, alarmed, hastened to find his son and saw the infant’s cot empty; the bedclothes and floor covered with blood. The frantic father plunged his sword into the hound’s side, thinking it had killed his heir. The dog’s dying yell was answered by a child’s cry.
Llewelyn searched and discovered his boy, unharmed. But nearby lay the body of a mighty wolf which Gelert had slain.
The prince, filled with remorse, is said never to have smiled again. He buried Gelert here. The spot is called, Beddgelert.
I make no judgements as to the veracity of the legend. But it does teach a lesson:-
We always need to hear both sides of the story.
Legacy of past treatment
Baby talk again
Memories of deep trauma