Kidwelly – Carmarthenshire News

Kid-welly is an old town named after a Welsh cowboy – well, if you believe that you will believe anything! I can’t see a Welsh cowboy running around in a pair of Wellies shooting up cow thieves in in order to maintain his nationalistic independence but there we are.

No really and jokes aside, Kidwelly is a small town in Carmarthenshire, population about 3500. It has some history attached to it, the earliest written form of the name, ‘Cetgueli’, is recorded by the monk, Nennius, writing in the 9th century. One theory of the name is that it comes from the joining of two river beds, Gwendraeth Fawr and Gwendraeth Fach, wherein Cydweli (the Welsh version) lies. The town itself is ancient, established by written records at around the twelfth century. As for its history, it has a castle built in around 1106 and a Norman parish church, both a delight to the eyes and something that attracts tourists into the area – I can’t say that this fills me with joy, it means that there is nowhere to park the car anywhere!

Anyway, that’s Kidwelly for you apart from the Industrial Revolution when brickworks and tinworks were the order of the day.

How did I end up here, you might well ask? Pure chance it must be said, I was working in Birmingham (having spent a large part of my adult life in England) and getting divorced, so I bought a property in Wales and ended up in Kidwelly.

It was a good choice as it turned out.

Gone is the crammed crush of London and cheerio to the mighty swathes of people that hold power in the cities. The life in rural Wales is far gentler, more bespoke to my writing inclinations. Kidwelly is a comfortable place to live. The people are kind and welcoming, it’s certainly a place to be, if one can call it that.

As age creeps up on me and my eyesight tries to catch everything, I cannot thank of a more salubrious place to die. At night the streets are quiet and during the day light hours there is an awakening of activity. The chemist run at full tilt and the coffee shops take the pro-found yells of tea and biscuits. Walking my dog along the estuary gives me a moment to reflect and think of things that may or may not happen. It’s a cherished second of individual thought.

So all I can say, is that the town holds something, it might be the peace, it might be a quiet deliberation but all in all it’s a pleasant way to end the journey of a lifetime.