The Future's The Future...

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Brooding sky, this evening, as darkness falls ever earlier, post-equinox. It always takes me by surprise how quickly things change. Clocks back soon. Just been looking at a little of the history of where we live, although there is much more depth to be dug than I currently have the spade for. Our end of what we now call Rachub [Yr Achub], is actually, as I've no doubt mentioned before, Caellwyngrydd, so named on the original documents to our house. The one piece of our plot's history that I would love to establish is the old Sunday school that stood where my studio now does, and which was in the living memory of someone we knew - now deceased - who attended the place as a young girl: Olwen, who was still striding up and down the [now] High Street [read Caellwyngrydd] at the age of ninety-two. I ran from Rachub Square to our house once, at the age of fifty, and I can still walk it briskly at sixty-nine; but I bow humbly to Olwen, as I fear that - even if I do make it to my nineties - her level of fitness will be beyond my then reach. But you never know, do you? Keep on keeping on...

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