Nain had some friends, Mr and Mrs York who lived in the country.
We all crammed into the Rover with the dog, and headed through the city and the west onto the Calder highway and into the dark enclosed Black Forest. At lunchtime we pulled into a picnic ground at Hanging Rock. Mother, with a wry smile, reminded us not to go wandering off on our own. The tartan blankets were spread, the green and gold china plates and cups arranged, the welshcakes distributed, and a pot of tea made. Then after that a scramble through the rock, checking every crevice and gorge for the lost Miranda, but alas we always descended to the car park without sighting her. Although I heard something once.
Back along the highway we soon made it to the familiar green picket fence, the sign on the gate reading, Croeso i Efrog. We had arrived and piled out of the car, none happier with the freedom than the dog. Mrs York was always overwhelmed with joy as she greeted us. She offered a cup of tea, which was a joke, causing laughter that went on for some time. Because it was her, that had responded to Nain on her first night in the migrant camp. Nain said to Taid that she could do with a baned o te. Moments after speaking those fateful words a fist came through the wall, then through the hole made by it a cup and saucer was passed through, followed by a pot of prince of wales.
From there the stories of Caerffili, Abertawe, and Pontypridd flowed, as my brother and I played fetch with the dog and hunted for dragons in the garden. As the sun was setting we found ourselves back in the Rover and on the road to the city.
