This time around we’re stopping at an unassuming plot of land sat adjacent to a busy road that runs through the centre of a Welsh island. You wouldn’t know it now, but at one time it was a Roman settlement, and surviving lime kilns from subsequent industrial works can still be found in the surrounding woodland. It’s some years since I visited for the last time, and I’ve been somewhat reluctant to share my findings until enough time had passed. The main reason being that places like this are now ripe targets for an influx of ‘Facebook-explorers’ across the country who trample through these sentimental buildings with no care for the consequences. I’d rather sit on my photographs for a couple of years before I know the circumstances of the location have likely changed. So here I am, having done just that. Now that’s out of the way, let’s take a look inside this intriguing little place.
The sign outside the gates to the house on my first visit read ‘Alltfor’ – which translates directly into English as ‘Exile’. Defined as ‘the state of being barred from one's native country, typically for political or punitive reasons.’ If I was a Facebook explorer, at this time I’d brand the house as ‘The Exile Cottage’ but I have more than one brain cell.
The sign had gone by the time I returned again, but the word, it seems, is enough to fulfil an entire backstory for this place. This has been listed as the most deprived region of Wales many times in recent years. To live here has always been to step back from the rush and rewards of modern life.
GDP here is roughly half of what it is in Cardiff, and despite the fact that this is still a predominantly Welsh speaking part of the country, its industry had all but come to an end towards the turn of the century leaving very few opportunities for employment beyond tourism. As a result the island is rife with abandonment.
This is just one of dozens and dozens of cottages and farmhouses on the island that have told their final story, but this one seemed to have enough charm to lure my attention again and again.
Upon entering into the living room we see a mostly untouched home that's clearly braved several seasons of harsh Welsh weather. The cold and warmth has taken turns to pull away at the wallpaper and insulation, which has slowly given up the fight and started to shrink away towards the floor. It's rare to see this happen with everything still hanging on the walls - you could almost be forgiven for imagining someone living here still, albeit in total neglect.
False teeth kept on the mantelpiece - can't say I felt the urge to take a closer look at those but surely this can't have been the cleanest safekeeping spot for a bunch of snappers!
Through a little searching we know that a Henry and Mary lived here for quite some time. Several documents could be found with their names on, such as this pension slip for Mary. The fact that they named this home as ‘exile’ begins to become clear as we delve into the house itself.
Sadly we soon realise that Mary passed away in 1988, and her funeral was attended at another village, and was seemingly a Welsh procession. Unusually for the time, it becomes apparent that Mary kept her maiden name rather than taking Henry's surname of Lewis.
