Currently on my way to Manchester, going through my pictures, Betws Y Coed.. one of my favorite places, its a Welsh village, filled with amazing sights, yet when i went last week, not one person in a shop spoke Welsh with us, why is it that all these 'Welsh' villages we have, have turned into English places.
My Welsh family outside their cottage: (l-r) Nain (pronounced "nine", Welsh for Gran) Papa Bear Thomas, Aunty Eirian, Uncle Bryn, and Taid (pronounced "tide", Welsh for Grandad). Taid was a groundsman for a British Army Major. At the end of WW2, the Major was given responsibility for a German POW named Gert. So Gert lived in the top floor of the Groundsman's cottage, and my family lived in the bottom. The children spoke Welsh, but learned English and a little German. Gert didn't return to Germany - after the war he became a nationalised British citizen, and remained a close friend of the family all his life.
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