Showing posts from October 19, 2014

Holiday opportunity for Aberglasney members

Discounted Self-catering Holidays at Aberglasney this November - Exclusively for Aberglasney Members
Book a one week stay in Coachman’s Cottage for just £300.
(Please quote your 'Membership number' when making your reservation)
Set on the perimeter of the Gardens, Coachman’s Cottage offers holiday-makers a unique opportunity to enjoy this beautiful location in a high quality, characterful and comfortable property.
Throughout their stay guests may roam freely around the house and Gardens.
A stay at Coachman’s Cottage also of course means that Aberglasney’s Gardening team are on your doorstep to ensure you make the most of any tour of the Gardens. Head gardener Joseph Atkin may even bring you fruit and vegetables from the Kitchen Garden.
The charming Coachman’s Cottage opens from the paved patio area into the open-plan kitchen/ dining area with modern amenities as well as hand-made cupboards with oak work tops and a large refectory dining table. The country house interior co…

The latest Phil Evans column from the South Wales Evening Post

The latest Phil Evans column from the South Wales Evening Post

Comedian Phil Evans is from Ammanford. He is known as the man who puts the ‘cwtsh’ into comedy.

“The falling leaves drift by my window. The autumn leaves of red and gold”. 
‘Autumn Leaves’. A beautiful song. Music by Joseph Koma. Words by Johnny Mercer. 
But it’s always concerned me that as Johnny gazed out of his window, creating those sublime lyrics, he ignored the potential havoc the falling leaves were capable of wreaking in his backyard.
If they’d clogged his drains, they’d have created a flood hazard which he’d only become aware of when water started seeping over his front doorstep during the next heavy downpour.
You can tell Autumn’s a worrying season for me...
It makes other people anxious too, as it heralds the arrival of overcast skies, high winds, rain, shorter days and longer nights, creating a ’Sorrowful season of dark, dismal, dread. It’s ochre smudged, mud-trudged landscape wallowing in a silte…