A Sunny Mess (The Mess)

I had just finished breakfast that friday morning, (thursday having come and gone in its usual fashion like a cat about to pounce on the weekend) and was sitting in the kitchen enjoying a mug of tea. Today was the day I told myself. I had hoped a few more interested tourists might have called but none did, which made Gwyn happy as he believed the seven we had booked was already enough.
Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. I knew it was him without answering. It was as if by thinking about my friend I had whisked him to my doorstep like a genie out of a can of Felinfoel ale.
'You're early Gwyn,' I said bringing him through to the kitchen. 'Its only just gone eight, we don't start until ten.'
'Aye well, the early bird catches the worm. Or tea in this case!' He poured himself a cup, sat down and began sniffing the air.
'Ah,' he sighed, 'there's nothing like a fry up to get you going in the morning! Of course I had to do without sausages today because id eaten the last of them yesterday.'
I noticed a tattered sports bag slung over his shoulder. 'I see you've come prepared,' I pointed to the bag. 'Whats in it? The map to the hidden treasure of Tref Y Ceiliog? The one the men of the little hatchets missed?' In by gone years the town had been home to looters who raided ships in distress armed with small axes. The humorous comment fell dead at his feet.
'No mun.' He put the bag on his lap, unzipped it and took a peek inside. 'Ive got a packed lunch, a guide book of historical facts and a pack of Felinfoel beer. Mind you in this heat I don't imagine i'll get much refreshment from them.' As if to illustrate the heat he wiped his brow.
It was warm sure enough, even for this early hour. I looked out of the window at the rising sun and clear sky which promised to get warmer as the day rolled on.
'We couldn't have wished for a better day boyo.' I said rubbing my hands in excitement.
'Thats true. What are you taking?' He enquired.
'Same as you mostly. Few sandwiches, ale. But I won't bother taking a giude if you have one, pointless having two.'
Gwyn looked up from his tea. 'I might have know id end up with more to carry.' He moaned as if the weight of a book made all the difference.
'Anyway I stayed up until one in the morning reading some facts on the place,' I said standing up. 'So I shouldn't think we'll need it much. Come on,' I motioned toward the living room. 'Lets have a final look at that guide book of yours to make certain ive got the dates and facts right.'
Up until this walk I hadn't really bothered with the history of Tref Y Ceiliog. To me in my youth it had been a place of beaches and pirates, hills and dangerous rope swings, later to become a place of gossip and drinking haunts. But as I sat flicking through pages of the guide I began to taste the dust of its past and realised that Tref Y Ceiliog had soaked many years of quality times and memories into its rich soil and weary bone.
I turned to my Gwyn who was fiddling with the zip on his bag. 'Do you know something? I didn't know this village had so much to tell.'
'Aye,' he nodded. 'And i'll tell you something else. My grandfather used to say the community of Tref Y Ceiliog in the old days was so strong that if its ghosts were ever to come back, it wouldn't be a haunting but a reunion.' He stopped playing with the zip. 'Of course im not entirely sure what he meant, and he's a ghost himself now as you know.'
I looked at my watch. 'Righto then,' I said with a renewed outlook. 'Let us show these tourists what this town was carved from!'
'Right you are,' he agreed. 'And give me a signal when its time to open a can, im parched.'

** **

As we approached the starting point of the tour I counted seven figures milling around Amelia's monument, each with rucksacks and other knick knacks.
'That must be them,' I told Gwyn.
'Look at all that gear they've brought,' he nodded to the bags that surrounded them. 'You would think we were going to climb Everest mun!'
'Ssh!' I hissed as we got within earshot.
All seven stared at us curiously as we arrived at the monument, and for a second I felt intimidated but quickly regained confidence.
'Well,' I said clapping my hands together in poor immitation of a holiday camp host. 'You must be our ramblers. Allow me first to welcome you to Tref Y Ceiliog, I hope you've enjoyed your stay here so far!' They all nodded like choirboys then introduced themselves in turn.
Each couple stood out from one another in stark contrast. Brian and Doreen were the eldest by a number of years and smart, well spoken. Robert and Suze looked youngest and never seemed to let go of each other, while Fredericke and Eva made a very beautiful couple, blonde and tanned. And then there was Grayson, a wiry child topped with curls. Spoilt looking but polite. Twelve years of mischief and curiosity.
All wore hiking boots and carried rucksacks on their backs and cameras on their chests, primed to click at anything of interest.
'Okay then,' I started after the formal introductions. 'As you know this is a monument in honour of Amelia Earhart who landed in Tref Y Ceiliog harbour in the seaplane 'Friendship' on June 18th 1928. This monument was unveiled on August 8th 1930 by Sir Arthur Whitton Brown, KBE. You can see the plaque on the front.'
As the cameras blinked I tugged on Gwyn's sleeve. 'Tell them about the memorial hall across the road, you know more about that than me.'
'Aye alright,' he agreed. 'But Duw its a scorcher! We'll all be burnt to a crisp by the time we reach the ash ponds, especially the young lad in his shorts.' He said referring to Grayson who was wearing a baggy pair of shorts that went down past his kneecaps.
When the cameras had finished collecting their owners' memories my side kick spoke up. 'Okay then ladies and gentlemen,' he began as if he were a guest speaker at a mayoral ball. 'If you look beyond the garden of remembrance you'll see a building. That is the Tref Y Ceiliog war memorial institute, and was first opened in 1934. Inside is a Roll of Honour listing the names of brave local lads that fought in the Great War. It was reopened in 1949 after the second world war.'
'What was the building used for?' Enquired Brian Crenshaw, who had taken a particular interest. I left the question to Gwyn.
'Pleasure mainly. It has a billiard room, a smokers room I think, and behind it is another hall which was, and still is, used for concerts, operas and so on. A beautiful dedication to courageous boys really.' He finished with a hint of sad admiration.
It seemed to satisfy Crenshaw senior. I looked at the clock on the front of the institute. 'Okay, we shall now head to the harbour which will lead us to the breath taking scenery along the coastline.'
We walked in pairs on the pavement of the main street, Gwyn and myself taking the lead. 'We should have asked for the money up front.' My thirsty friend told me as we walked.
'Why?'
'Well if they don't think its worth the three quid we won't get paid.' He warned.
'Don't worry, im sure they're not that sort of people. And keep your voice down!' I ordered. In my my mind what little money we would earn was nothing compared to sharing the old towns history with strangers.
A lot of locals who knew Gwyn and I of old, pointed at us and the visitors and smiled as we strolled towards the bridge crossing the railway, and it made me wonder if our guests had noticed the pointing and would suddenly think of us as rogues. I comforted myself with the fact that we doing the village some good.
Arriving we regrouped on a recently built footbridge, that had been slapped onto the original bridges' side like a healthier, stronger looking siames twin. New sticking to old as always new should.
'This is the Co-op bridge,' I stated. 'And was built in 1839. It really is the heart of Tref Y Ceiliog, as you can see from the shops and bustle.'
'Are there any toy shops?' Crenshaw junior asked eagerly.
'Im afraid they've gone,' I answered. 'But if any of you need provisions Im sure the supermarket over there will have everything you want.'
They indicated no desire to add shopping to the tour, and it was a silly offer I said to myself, as everyone had bags bursting at the stitching.
Suddenly Gwyn decided to speak.
'If you look to your right,' he pointed. 'You will notice a car park. Many years ago there used to be a cinema there called the Adelphi. But it was knocked down in 1972.'
'Why was that?' Asked Suze, liked to her fiance.
'A good question,' he replied. 'But I can tell you that when it was first opened, a chap sitting in the front row thought the train on screen was going to come crashing into the cinema!' Gwyn guffawed.
We crossed the bridge, heading for the harbour.
'The Nep..tune hotel.' Fredericke read out slowly as we passed the hotel.
'We didn't see that advertised in the brochure did we dear?' Brian joined in. 'Does it still accomodate?' We halted again.
'No, it was a sort of nightclub the last time it was open. Its quite old, used be called the Carbay club and very popular. Built in 1841.' I offered.
'And whats that small building next to it asked Robert.
'Ah, thats the Clwb Bach!' Gwyn informed the group. 'Or 'small club' if you don't speak Welsh.' He added helpfully. 'It was opened in 1896, and we could take a look inside but unfortunately we're not members and no women are allowed.'
I cringed at this painfully true statement.
'Why on earth aren't women permitted?' Demanded Mrs Crenshaw.
I knew that my partner would tell her it was for husbands to escape nagging wives so I jumped in sharply to save the walk from ending there and then.
'Tradition I would imagine. The women then of course accepted it, and they still do to this day.'
I motioned that we ought walk onward in case Gwyn added something 'special' to my thin explanation.
We walked in more of a group as we headed for the East side of the dock. Grayson kept running a little ahead, filled with energy and excitement. I thought at first he might have been troublesome but he behaved well and had the healthy curiosity of all boys.
On arriving at the lifeboat shed the cameras went into action once again, filling the loaded films with images of sailing boats and the distant Gower.
'Its beautiful here!' Exclaimed Eva.
'Aye, the ships that have come and gone in this harbour is nobody's buisness.' Announced Gwyn. 'And this is where Amelia landed, hundreds of people gathered to see her. My gran was one. Told me she was a funny lady but she was American I suppose.' He quipped.
'Isn't that a lighthouse way out there?' Brian asked looking through binoculars.
'Yes it is. Its the Whitford lighthouse, the only off shore cast iron lighthouse in Britain.' I informed the binocular lens.
'Magnificent!' He said to no one in particular.
As the adults took photographs and took in the sea air, Grayson meanwhile had wandered down to the edge of the water.
'What are these metal things stuck down here?' He shouted up.