Not Without You by Katie Price
This is for the people I love, have loved, and lost. Dw i’n caru ti.
Not everything is accessible to visit, not everything can be captured through a lense. Here are places from my childhood, where drawing them just made more sense.
Dear 12 Caerhendy Street, I was four when I left you, we packed everything that you once held. I kept all of the memories we shared. From the sudocrem kitchen to dusting your coffee table in my baby walker.
I remember it all. Mam still calls you her “lovely little house”...
but now your someone else’s lovely little home.
5
Dear Gellifaelog, Thank you for teaching me to be playful. I’ve learnt so much through play and experimenting, and that’s all down to you.
You unlocked parts of my imagination that no-one else could. 8
Dear 57 Church Street, You are still home to Nanna, but I lived with you too once. Whilst Mam and Dad were sorting out our family house — our forever home — all five of us lived nehind your front door. It was a squeeze to say the least. You have such a warming touch, and whether that’s the warmth I feel from the cuppa Nanna makes me or how your sofas envelope me into a hug, there’s always a sign that shows I’m welcome around you. You were a place to have a day off school because I felt ill. Nanna would always let me watch my programmes and films. Miss Potter was my favourite. Nanna and I used to watch it with a cup of tea in hand, and maybe even a jam split welsh cake too if she’d been baking. I’d inevitably fall asleep in the cosy embrace of the sofa. Everyone loves your sofa. We fight over it every Boxing Day.
With the old ones getting older, and the young ones with their own young ones, this family just keeps on growing — and yet no one can bear to leave you on your own on Boxing Day.
It’s not the same if it’s not at Nanna’s ...and they’re right you know. You won’t find thirty or more people who are happy to squash in like sardines in any other terraced house in Merthyr Tydfil.
It’s all for a lady at 57 Church Street. A lady called Anne Davies. A lady I call my Nanna. P.S. Thank you for being a home to not only my Nan, but also her five children and their partners, eleven grandchildren, six greatgrandchildren... and anyone else who needs a bit of hope.
10
Dear 10 Arthur Street, In loving memory of Eileen McCarthy.
This letter will be different to the rest. I can’t ever promise to visit you again. I can’t see you again. I can’t talk to you again. I can’t do any of it again. 10 Arthur Street, you were home to someone very dear to my family, and they left a very big hole in our hearts. There is no way I’ll get through this letter without crying. This is a letter to remember you, Gran. I’ve heard so many stories about you since you left, happy ones, sad ones. I often find I get these feelings mixed up when I hear these stories. I’m happy to hear about them, but heartbroken that you’re not around to tell me about them yourself. I spent early mornings eating marmalade on toast on your living room floor, cwtched up in my white baby shawl; I still sleep with it next to me. I’d be clamped between your knees to have my tight ringlets brushed; you knew I was the fidgety type. I’d have Petits Filous and when it was all gone you’d always promise me there would be more tomorrow.
11
Although I get sad that I can only ever remember these things, I’m so happy I can still remember them. You had a gold locket, which was passed down to me. I only wear it for the big moments, days that I’m especially proud of, or days where I need a little bit more strength than normal. I wear it on the days I wish you could see, and on the days where I really wish I could see you. It’s no fault of anyone that we no longer see each other, we just can’t; but just so you know...
I still can’t say goodbye.
Nid wy’n gofyn bywyd moethus, Aur y byd na’i berlau mân: Gofyn wyf am galon hapus,
Calon onest,
calon lân.
Dear Cyfarthfa Castle, You threw many challenges my way, and it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but I have a few things to thank you for. Thank you for the art lessons, from year seven to year eleven they played a big part in why I loved school. Thank you for the science lessons with Evan and Ellis. I wasn’t much of a hugger before then. You gave me a glimpse of true friendship. Thank you for the staff members who were always up for a laugh. Science was always a laugh, especially when Mr Johns played pranksnon Caitlin. Thank you for showing me how to have fun. Maths wasn’t always about algebra ... We definitely didn’t lower the white board whilst Mr Hamer was writing on it, and we definitely didn’t play the imperial march theme song whenever he walked into class.
Thank you for giving me objective R.E lessons. It was nice to not have a biased view on religion. You taught me about scriptures without preaching them at me. I missed this when I studied at A-Level. Overall, you just gave me time to grow. I wanted to be an artist, then a writer, then an English teacher, then a Welsh teacher, then an artist again. You always brought me back to the thing I loved most. You showed me it was okay to follow my heart.
I still think of you.
14
Dear Costa,
I visited you every Sunday at 2:00PM on the dot, for at least two years. With a hot chocolate in hand you helped me put the world to rights. Friendships were made by you, and broken by you, but somehow you stayed the same. Whether I was stressed or hyper, overwhelmed or smitten you were always there.
You were always so warm and comforting.
15
Dear Steps, Thank you for given me a place to park my backside at 10:00PM when I was out with friends. Mam and Dad always asked if I ever got cold sitting outside late at night, but it was always warm.
We kept each other warm. 18
Dear River Taff, You were the calm during the storm.
Thank you for listening,
and thank you for whispering back.
Dear Georgetown Youth, You have given me so many amazing opportunities. You encouraged me to perform on stage at music festivals, sing in my local theatre, stand up for young people’s rights, make friends — some of which I hope to have forever, and you introduced me to my boyfriend. You did so much for me. You gave me a lot. A place to spend friendless evenings, and turned them into dance parties with weird and wonderful (then) strangers. I had a place to use my voice. I’m young, but certainly not dumb, and you listened to every word I had to say.
every. single. word. 22
Calon lân yn llawn daioni Tecach yw na’r lili dlos:
Dim ond calon lân all ganu Canu’r dydd a chanu’r nos.
Dear Pandy Field, I spent many summers with you, just lying on the grass with my nearest and dearest friends. You offered me a lot of time to sit and think, and just watch the world go by — this was time I couldn’t really find elsewhere. I told secrets to your trees, and maybe even got stuck in one once or twice. I even had to get my friend to fireman lift me out of one of your trees; it makes you wonder if things like that tempt fate, he’s now a fireman... so I guess we helped him out?
What I’d give to spend everyday with you again.
I’d get so lost in the summer sunset that I wouldn’t hear your keeper call to lock the gate, and so I’d end up jumping your fence. You definitely tested my climbing abilities if you didn’t do anything else. It was all in the name of fun and being young. What I’d give to spend everyday with you again. I built close friendships on your grounds — some for a reason, and some only for a season. I suppose you live and you learn. You’ve been there come rain or shine, and without you I wouldn’t have as many beautiful memories as I do.
Dear Cyfarthfa Lake, You were beautiful to walk around on sunny evenings, and refreshing on crisp winter mornings, but you certainly weren’t enjoyable at 9:00AM on a school day where we’d run laps around you during P.E. You are:
cold and harsh,
warm and soothing
all at the same time. 28
Dear Thomastown Park, I spent year eleven sat on your park benches worrying about GCSE exams and trying to decide on a future career that I didn’t even know existed. Your green grounds were refreshing after sitting in a classroom all day been told that maths and science were the only things that matter. You were peaceful and lovely, you kept me rooted in my interest in art...
now look at me.
30
Pe dymunwn olud bydol, Chwim adenydd iddo sydd:
Golud calon lân, rinweddol, Yn dwyn bythol elw fydd.
Dear Crown, When I first visited you it was a youth event, I was seventeen. There were young performers from all over the town singing; people came to watch and have a good time, some even to suss out young talent. I met someone that night, although they don’t remember it, but I do. I was nervous and had butterflies and everything had a rose gold hue. I know some amazing people because of you. I’d be lost without them, but
I wouldn’t know this life without you.
33
Dear Tram Road, Thank you for the 23rd of July 2016. I walked home from you that day with the biggest smile on my face. I thought it was just young love, but here we are two and a half years later. I’ve only visited you twice in that time; once on that day in July, and once two and half years on. You’re still as special as you were two years ago. You still hold all of the funny butterflies I felt on that sunny day. You only hold happy memories for me. You’re a very special place to me, and I am grateful for your existence.
You’re a big part of my life. Thank you for existing.
Calon lân yn llawn daioni Tecach yw na’r lili dlos:
Dim ond calon lân all ganu Canu’r dydd a chanu’r nos.
Dear Soar, Thank you for letting me sing amongst your four walls. You listened and sang back to me, my voice and thoughts echoing inside. I was accompanied by loved ones, influencers and people that are no longer part of my life, but I will always remember you. You made people listen to me. As I sang ‘Calon Lan’ with an honest heart and immense passion, surrounded by people I love, I was amazed.
I’ve never felt more
heard.
Dear Aberfan, To me you are a person. When asked where I’m going, I say “Aberfan”, but what I mean is I’m visiting someone there. When asked where I am, I say “Aberfan” but everyone knows who I’m with. Aberfan, you are not a place to me. You mean too much to merely just live on a map. You are one person. My person. You are not described by scenery, because it’s not what I look at when I visit you, unless it’s a particular face. You are not described by sounds unless it’s an acoustic guitar and John Mayer. You are not described by how you feel, unless it’s two arms around me. Aberfan, you are home to the reason why you matter so much to me. I’ve spent many days with you. Many days admiring you. Aberfan,
I love you.
41
Hwyr a bore fy nymuniad Gwyd i’r nef ar adain cân Ar i Dduw, er mwyn fy Ngheidwad,
Roddi i mi galon lân.
Dear Spoons, We didn’t meet until I was eighteen and about to head off to uni. I was too old to be wandering the streets and sitting on benches in the dark now. Everyone had moved on from their edgy teenage ways, and now we just wanted to celebrate. You’ve allowed us to make so many (drunken) memories. I’ve had heart to hearts with you on countless occassions. I’ve also had side-splitting laughs and the odd embarrassing cry. And to think... you did all of that through two pitchers full of Woo Woo.
Well played. 46
Calon lân yn llawn daioni Tecach yw na’r lili dlos:
Dim ond calon lân all ganu Canu’r dydd a chanu’r nos.
Dear Home, You are my safe space, my comfort zone, everything that’s my own. When the time came to leave for you for university, I was beside myself. I wasn’t built for city life; too timid and small for The Big Smoke. Now I’ve been away for some time, I can definitely say that you are all of those things I believed you to be. You’re where Mam sings ‘Black Betty’ by Ram Jam, whilst she makes me a cuppa on friday evening. You’re where Dad sits in front of the TV in his rugby shirt, shouting at the ref because England got away with breaking the rules again. You’re where Lewis prances around the living room like Billy Elliot, or does his Michael McIntyre impressions. You’re where Nan knocks her walking stick over every Sunday. You’re full of little things I will cherish forever.
You are where my heart goes when it’s lonely. 50
Dear Cyfarthfa Park, When I last visited you, it was New Year’s Day 2019. You felt different. Ghosts of memories wandered your footpaths, and the golden hour made everything seem a little more romantic than usual. It was a strange feeling. I spent the afternoon wandering your gardens, just thinking, not about anything of importance, but just thinking. I still think this walk on the first day of the year did me the world of good. I spoke to my boyfriend about things I wanted to achieve this year, or things that needed to change. These hopes and thoughts are out in the world now. I have no choice but to get it done! It was funny to look back at the days I spent with you and compare them to now. I’m a lot more grateful now. I’m sorry I took you for granted. You offered me a place for my friendships to grow, and for me to be care-free. You’re still as special to me now, I just don’t have as much time to visit you. I’m sorry.
I’ll be in touch again soon. 51
Calon lân yn llawn daioni Tecach yw na’r lili dlos:
Dim ond calon lân all ganu
Canu’r dydd a chanu’r nos.