I have a Welsh side and an English side with extended family all over the world. One day I will get them organised.
Growing up in Kent in the 1960s, our visits to Wales were few and far between until the M2 was opened and we got a reliable car. Even then, the drive took 8 hours and we only went once a year in the summer. There were three things we looked forward to on those long drives: crossing the Severn Bridge as we entered Wales, our first glimpse of the mountains and our first glimpse of a pit head wheel.
Auntie Polly was the last surviving sibling of my paternal grandfather and she lived