March 16, 2017
Having had a lovely time at Nevern, the Gwaun Valley Brewery, and Pentre IfanPentre Ifan, we decided to make our way to Newport to check into our hotel, via Llanychaer.
You could tell we were in south Wales rather than at home in North Wales, because something that looked to be only 2 miles away actually only took about 5 minutes to get to.
Sheep aren't great at staring contests
The reason for stopping in (or rather near) Llanychaer is they have a nifty well there (or rather in the 'lost' town of Llanllawer), that dates back to pre-Christian times. Way back in the day, if you left a bent pin on top of the well, you could lock in whatever curse you decided to curse on your enemies. Of course later on this became a more namby-pamby wishing well for miracle cures, blah blah blah.
I may or may not have brought a bag full of bent pins.
Anyway, it was easy to drive to, right by a scenic church, and smack dab in the middle of a field full of the most adorably distraught black lambs and what looked like their horned parents I've ever seen. I say adorably distraught because at first, what with the horns, P and I stood at the fence on the street debating whether to even go into the field, what with parents of young lambs and giant head-butty horns and all just staring at us and seemingly unwilling to move. After a rather lengthy immobile staring contest with 50 sheep, the sheep all slowly and confusedly backed away from us until they were all huddled on the other end of the field, with their lambs safely behind them.
That sorted, we strolled over to the charming well and took a look. And like I said, I may or may not have cursed you. Have you done anything wrong to me lately? If not, you clearly have nothing to worry about. . . Probably.
