Letter from Cwmyoy

Stephen Price

St Martin’s Church, Cwmyoy found itself in vogue this year – headline news of a ‘wonky church’ pulling tourists in from afar for a quick snap then back in the car for a like and share.

Like countless other places we in Wales wander without fanfare, our cherished haunts have been ‘discovered’, despite us all quietly passing by, worshipping, loving and leaving respectfully as they are for centuries.

One place I swam as a child with friends – a place my father swam before me and many many others before him – was discovered by TikTok earlier this summer too.

A ‘secret pool’ that never was.

The top ten lists – hidden gems – to be enjoyed on screen later to the envy of others in search of someone else’s enjoyment and high.

A hollow take on interests and hobbies and a life lived on screen.

THOMAS PRICE HE

TAKES HIS NAP IN

OUR COMMON MO

THER LAP WAITING

I met someone local at one such ‘hidden fall’ only weeks ago and she shared an experience from nearby Keepers Pond.

As she sat in her car, preparing for a swim, free of her phone, she watched as a well-known wild swimmer and influencer got out of her car. Took a selfie. And, within seconds, returned to her car.

To upload the lie later.

To bask in the praise of a life she wants us all to think she has.

Others in my home village complain of more traffic, tissue paper (soiled), cans and vapes all left behind by those keen to enjoy nature their own very special way, before they leave never to return again.

Aren’t we blessed to have our ‘hidden gems’ found by such folk.

TO HEARE THE BRID

EGROOME SAY A

WAKE MY DEAR

AND COME A WAY

Cwmyoy was quiet today.

We’d feared single lane passing drama and forced conversation, of getting in the way of those all-important shots.

But it was only us, and the angels, and Jesus on his cross.

Wandering the graves – the Prices, Griffiths, Prossers and Evans, – grasshoppers jumping at our feet – I wondered were any in my line.

What were their lives like. Do their farms still hold their names.

Two ghostly, overlooked faces sit above one of the windows looking over the valley towards Ysgyryd Fawr, Partrishow and Henllan.

The changing faces, surnames, intentions.

The community and grace.

Now reduced to a ‘wonky church’,

A point and shoot.

A like and a share.

Llythrau eraill, Mr Price: Clydach, Libanus, Brynmawr, Nantyglo/Annwn, Partrishow, Glastonbury, The Lonely Shepherd

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