Porth Einon

 

Fairfield**

The chippy @ the end of the road 

Traeth Porth Einon 

Once upon a time, I lived 100 yards from the beach. I could hear the sound of the waves at night through my bedroom window. The floorboards I trod were probably planks from old ships wrecked on the perilous cliffs of the Gwyr. My walls were old limestone chunks deposited on the bare earth without foundation, probably circa 1500. My back gate opened opposite the entrance to "the ship inn" (affectionately called "the shit inn" by us locals). My heating was via a coal boiler, which demanded feeding every 24 hours, or would go out. 

Living here was a little hectic in the summer, when the "Cwmmers"* descended on the campsites and caravan parks, but peaceful in the winter months. It felt remote from the hussle & bustle of Abertawe town. It was a real small community at heart, with everyone knowing everyone else in the village. There were plusses and minuses to this. 

* "Cwmmers" - as a lad we used to call tourists cummers - I thought it was because they "came" to our villages in the summer. Now I guess that it was a corruption of Cwm-mers :- ie. valley folk. 

** I didn't realise the house was either built on a slope, or that I'm a crap photographer.