When you’re trying to host a wedding on a budget, you might think that a wedding photographer is a needless expense. But take it from me, don’t ski the wedding photographer. This is why
On the 29th of March this year, my parents will celebrate their Golden wedding anniversary. They will have been married for FIFTY YEARS! My grandparents managed 47 years and would have been celebrating their 77th this year if they were both still with us.
Even though my grandparents are long gone, I still have their wedding photos. This was brought home to me when I was scanning my parents wedding album this weekend to create a present for them.
Looking at my grandparents and parents wedding albums is bittersweet. Bittersweet because in order to lower the cost of my own wedding, I decided I didn’t need a photographer.
It is the biggest regret of my wedding. In October we would have been married 15 years, amazing when people only gave us a month back when we first started dating!
We do have some photos that my sister-in-law took and shared with us. But there are so many pictures I wish we did have. I wish I had a photo of me with both my parents, rather than seperate ones. Most importantly I have no pictures of a special guest, Ryan who was 16 months old at the time. I would love to have a picture of us with Ryan.
I tried to organise some photos. We have some of all our guests with us on the steps outside the registry office. A lovely pictures of hubby with his brother and nephew. Pictures that I treasure of a wonderful day that are stored on my computer. I have no album so perhaps I should get around to creating one myself.
Oh well, I suppose it gives us an excuse to renew our wedding vows one day!
Wales is an amazing country. It’s full of beautiful scenery, myths, legends, and history. It even has more castles per square mile than any other country.
Whilst I wasn’t born in Wales, I am proud to class myself as Welsh, giving me the best of both worlds. I’ve lived in Wales for 36 years, ever since I was 6. I’m married to a Welsh man and all my children are Welsh. I often describe myself as born in England and raised in Wales and I wouldn’t want to grow up anywhere else.
Of course, living in Wales means you often take this amazing country for granted.
St David’s Day
On the 1st March every year, St David’s Day is celebrated. You will often find children dressed up in traditional Welsh costumes. Our local primary school makes a big deal every year. The children are encouraged to wear red or traditional dress and then they parade through town banging drums and waving Welsh flags. They have their faces painted and a special school dinner.
This year St David’s Day fell during the half-term holidays so we decided to go somewhere we had never been before.
When I was 6 we moved to Wales. I knew nothing about the country but I quickly made friends with an elderly neighbour and her dog. I loved dogs and kept asking my parents for one, but we wouldn’t get one until the following year.
The dog was named Gelert and the lady asked me if I had heard the story of Gelert. I hadn’t and settled down to listed as she told me the story.
The Story of Gelert
Back in the 13th century, there lived a Welsh prince, Llywelyn ap Iorwerth, known as Llewelyn the Great. Llewelyn had a faithful dog named Gelert and one day he went hunting without Gelert.
When he came home a terrible sight met him. His house was trashed and there was no sign of his baby son who he had left home. Gelert came to greet his master covered in blood and in a fit of rage, believing Gelert had hurt his son, he ran his sword through Gelert. With a howl, Gelert died and hearing the howl a baby began to cry. Frantically, Llewelyn searched for the baby and found him beneath his blankets under his upturned crib. The baby was unhurt but lying near the baby was the body of a dead wolf.
Llewelyn quickly realised what had happened. A wolf had managed to sneak into the house and Gelert had faught with the wolf to protect the baby. Gelert had won, but he had been injured and covered in his own blood and the blood of the wolf. Gelert had saved the baby but Llewelyn had rewarded him with a sword to the heart.
Llewelyn was filled with remorse and is said to have never smiled again. He buried Gelert in a field near his home and the town was forever known as Beddgelert which means Gelerts Grave.
The story is one of the sadder stories I have heard and it breaks my heart every time I hear it. Yet even though Gelert’s Grave was less than an hour away and despite the fact I had passed through many times. I had never visited his grave
The village of Beddgelert
St David’s Day was the perfect day to visit. How better to spend a Welsh national holiday than visiting a famous Welsh site. I took our own faithful hound, Gwen with me, along with my three youngest.
I was worried that Gelert’s Grave would be hard to find, but despite the fact it wasn’t in the middle of the village. It was easy to find and only a short walk along the river.
The grave was not what I expected. I had visions of the grave being in the center of a village which had grown around it. However, I liked the fact that the grave was in a quiet area where you could reflect on the bravery of Gelert and how much Llewelyn loved him to create such a lasting memorial.
You could tell that Beddgelert was also proud of Gelert, with a looked after the memorial and a statue of Gelert in a ruined house nearby. Whether that was Llewelyn’s house or not I didn’t know, but I liked to imagine it was
After we left Beddgelert we decided to take the long way home, creating a circular route. The longer route took us around Mount Snowdon and Llanberis. The scenery was stunning and I definitely want to go back that way on a nicer day when we can see the summit of Snowdon. I’d love to visit the summit one day but I also know the only way that is going to happen is if I take the Snowdon Mountain Railway!
Have you ever visited Beddgelert? What about other Welsh myths and legends? Which one is your favourite?
One of my hobbies is researching my ancestry. I love discovering who my ancestors were, where they lived and what their occupations were. We are the result of so many different love stories and we are all related. But how?
Growing up I was always close to my grandparents who doted on me and whom I adored. They always made me feel special, especially as I was the first girl in several generations. My grandfather had one brother, his brother had no children and my dad was an only child.
When I was 12 my world fell apart when my beloved Nana passed away. Just 16 short months later, my grandfather followed. He adored his wife and he couldn’t cope without her.
Why I became interested in my family history
When my son was born, it made me interested in discovering who my ancestors were and where I came from. I’d always been interested in history, but now I was interested in my personal family history. This need to know started me on my genealogical journey and I began to search for more information.
Starting my search
First I questioned my parents, asking them what they knew about their parents. My mum wasn’t close to her mum and knew a lot of what she had been told was untruths. She didn’t really know her dad. When she was 13, her older brother found their birth certificates. They found out that “Uncle John” was actually their father. A few months later, her father passed away suddenly. She hadn’t had the chance to confront him about her parentage and now she never would.
Dad’s mum was easy. Dad put me in touch with his cousin, who shared all about the Champion family. I quickly learnt all about my great-great-grandfather, Titus Riches Champion. When his first wife, Eliza Lavinia Barber, passed away. He was left a single father with four children. Needing help, he arranged for his late wife’s niece to come and help him. He fell in love with Emma and together they had 9 children.
My great-grandfather, James Sutherland Champion, was the eldest. James then married Lillian Elizabeth Aspinell and together they had four children and my nan was their youngest.
The Mysterious Ancestor
But I was interested in my paternal line. Where did my maiden name of Whitehouse come from? We were an isolated branch with the only Whitehouse relatives. Our branch was grandad, Uncle Denis, my dad, me and my bother. We had no other Whitehouse relatives.
My dad told me that his father and uncle had been born in Canada and they never knew their father. They were raised by their mother in Bromley in Kent. He told me how finding out he was Canadian had actually come as a shock to granddad!
I was intrigued! Was this why Canada called to me? How Canadian was granddad? Was his father Canadian or had he also emigrated?
Where to begin?
But how to begin my research? All I had was a baptism certificate of my granddads. This stated his name and that he was born in Carlton County, Ottawa in 1920. It also stated his father was named John Whitehouse.
Starting with just a name
So where would I begin? All I had was his name. Nothing else. I didn’t know when or where he had been born? Neither did I have my grandfather’s birth certificate nor did I know how to get it. I was in the UK and he had been born in Canada. It wasn’t amongst granddads belongings which my dad had kept. It seemed an impossible task to find him!
One thing I did know was my great grandmother’s name. Nellie May Faulkner. Since Nellie was from Kent, perhaps they had married in the UK. A quick search for their names on my favourite free website FreeBMD, gave me one result.
The information matched but without the certificate, I wouldn’t know for sure. I ordered their wedding certificate via the GRO website and eagerly awaited its arrival.
To have and to hold
The certificate told me that John Whitehouse was 24 when he married Nellie and that he was a chauffeur. It also said that his father was also John Whitehouse and a fire beater.
If he was 24 on the 26th December 1918, then that gave me an approximate year of birth of 1894. The address listed didn’t help as they were both listed at the same address. Assuming he was born in the UK, I again searched the FreeBMD website. Without an actual date of birth, I searched a year either side of the year I suspected. Sadly, the results I got gave me over 60 possible John Whitehouse’s born between 1893 and 1895. Too many certificates to order, even assuming he had been born in the UK and not Canada,.
The next steps
A big clue was that his father was also called John Whitehouse and a fire beater. Assuming they were from the UK I checked the 1911 census. Again I had over 60 results, even searching for a John Whitehouse with a father named John Whitehouse. I still had no proof they had been born in the UK. For all I knew, he could have been born in Canada. I was no closer to my answers.
Trying a different direction
A friend then suggested I try the Canadian Attestation Papers for Canadian soldiers who fought during World War I. It was possible that he had been a soldier fighting during the war and that’s how he met Nellie. This seemed a possibility. I had checked for them on passenger lists but had been unable to find them. If great-grandfather had been a soldier then there would be no trace of him returning to Canada.
I figured it couldn’t hurt and had a look. To my delight, I found 8 results and that next-of-kin was listed!
The one born in 1893 didn’t match as his father was named Frederick William Whitehouse. So I checked for another one around the same age. The one born in 1896 was a possibility as the next-of-kin was a Charlotte Whitehouse and I didn’t know what my great-great-grandmothers name was. Next was John Whitehouse born in 1897.
I knew not to worry too much about the year of birth not matching. In those years, dates could be interchangeable. There was no central database and people often lied or were mistaken about the year they were born.
With John Whitehouse born in 1897, I believed I had found him. Especially as his next-of-kin was named as John Whitehouse. To make it even more likely I had the correct one, his occupation was listed as a chauffeur! Whilst the year of birth didn’t match the wedding certificate, the other details certainly did!
Looking at this document, dated 1915, I was shocked to see that his next-of-kin address was Chorley in Lancashire. This came as a shock! I knew my mothers family came from Lancashire but I hadn’t expected to find a connection on my dad’s side too. Not to mention Lancashire is where I was born!
Back to the 1911 Census
Back I went to the 1911 census. His father was listed as living in Chorley, Lancashire on the 1915 Attestation Papers. Would they all be in Chorley in 1911? I found a 13-year-old John Whitehouse, a cloth weaver, living in Chorley, Lancashire on the 1911 census. His parents were named John Whitehouse and Annie. The father’s occupation was listed as being a Boiler Fireman at Flore Oil Cloth Works. Assuming the age on the marriage certificate was wrong, was this the right family. I looked at the father’s occupation, was a fire beater and a boiler fireman a similar job?
I checked the Old Occupations website for more information. This said that a fire beater was a factory worker who tended the fires of a steam engine in a factory and was also known as a boiler fireman. So it was a match! Had I found my great grandfather?
Emigrating to Canada
I then looked at the passenger lists on Ancestry.co.uk. If he was from Chorley, Lancashire then when did he move to Canada? Whilst I looked for that, I also ordered his birth certificate from the General Registry Office. It confirmed he was born in Chorley, Lancashire to Annie Rothwell and John Whitehouse in 1897.
I looked at the passenger lists. In 1913, a 16-year-old John Whitehouse travelled to Canada with 48-year-old John Whitehouse. Junior was a carter and senior a fireman. The occupation matched the father, but did it match the son? Again I looked at the old occupations website, what was a carter? A carter was the driver of a horse-drawn vehicle used for transporting goods. I also learnt that this term applied to drivers of mechanical vehicles too as lorries and cars began to replace horse-drawn carts. This meant he was a driver like a chauffeur is! It was all starting to match!
The 1921 Canadian Census
Then, the 1921 Canadian census was released. I was thrilled as my granddad was born in 1920. I should be able to find him with his parents. Finally, I might get more answers!
I searched and searched but couldn’t find them. I was about to give up when another friend suggested that maybe their names had been mistranscribed.
Eventually, after a lot of searching, I found them. My friend had been correct, their names were wrong! They were listed as the Whittene family. John Whittene, his wife Cellie and their sons George and Denis.
Apart from the last name and Nellie’s name being wrong, it matched. Granddad was listed as being aged 1 which matched his 1921 year of birth. Even his brother Denis was on there, only 17 days old, which matched his 1921 year of birth.
They were living in Russell County, Canada and John was listed as a soldier. It also stated that John and Cellie (Nellie) were born in England and George and Denis in Ontario, Canada. I now knew that he was still a soldier, even though WWI had ended.
More digging and I uncovered an Ottawa City Directory from 1923. This listed John Whitehouse as Sergt, MIL staff CLK records br dept Nat Defence, res Russell Road.
I found travel documents for my grandfather, his mother and his brother. It appears in July 1925 they left Canada to visit Nellie’s family in Bromley. There was no record of them returning until 1927.
They arrived back in Canada in June 1927. According to their travel documents, they planned to return to her husband and their father. His details are given as, John Whitehouse, record office, Daly building. It even mentions Nellie’s father, G Faulkner 10 Croft Rd, Bromley, Kent. She had £50 on her (about £3,000 in today’s money) and an Ottawa passport. I even learnt she had lived in Canada before, from 1919 until July 1925 at Hurdsman Bridge. Again this matched what I already suspected.
Sadly, their reunion seemed short-lived as they arrived back in the UK in September 1927. This time to live with Nellie’s father, George Frederick Faulkner. What could have happened to make them return so soon?
In the news
I did some more digging and I found a newspaper article on Newspapers.com from the Ottawa Journal dated the 15th April 1927.
The article tells how Sergeant John Whitehouse, a clerk of the Department of National Defence, was on a night out with friends from work. They were Captain Haydon and Sergeant-Major Fretwell. With them was Mrs Barr, a roomer at the same house as John.
They left their house between 11.30pm-12am and went to the Regal Club. Shortly before 2 am, they left the club and got into my great-grandfather’s car. My great-grandfather was driving and they travelled home to Ottawa. As they were driving over Chaudiere Bridge, John claimed he was side-swiped by another car, but this was never proven. Another possibility was he slid on the road, which was notorious for being wet with spray from the falls. Whatever happened, the car was badly damaged and turned over once or twice.
Sergeant Major Fretwell who was in the front passenger seat was instantly killed. He was thrown from the spinning car which then landed on top of him. My great-grandfather was also injured with a fractured shoulder and damage to his knees. His other passengers suffered from bruising.
Reading deeper into the story, it appears that the widow of Sergeant Major Fretwell had to take her insurance company to court. They claimed he was killed by his weakened heart and was dead before the car had landed on him. They refused to pay out. It doesn’t appear that my great grandfather was charged with anything and it was ruled an accident..
My great aunt, the partner of my late uncle, told me a story. She had heard that my great-grandfather had gotten into trouble for bootlegging during the prohibition. This was when alcohol was banned in the United States during 1920 and 1933 and was often smuggled over the border from Canada. However, I have yet to find any proof of this.
What happened to Granddad?
From here the trail on great-grandfather goes cold.
But what about granddad and uncle Denis? I can track them growing up in Bromley near his mothers family. The 1939 register has them still living at 10 Croft Road, Bromley. The household consisted of George F Faulkner, a greengrocer, Nellie M Whitehouse (later Winnifrith), a domestic. Granddad was listed as a motor engineer and uncle Denis as a bakers roundsman.
When World War II began, both granddad and uncle Denis enlisted. Granddad became a tank driver with the 4th Queen’s Hussars. Uncle Denis joined the navy and became a gunner.
1942 was a very busy year for the family, some good some horrendous.
On the 19th Febuary, Nellie remarried. She married Percy Winnifrith in Bromley and stated she was a widow.
On the 7th March 1942, the Norwegian ship that uncle Denis was serving on sank. He managed to make it to a lifeboat with several others and they then spent 88 days lost at sea. On the 7th June 1942, the lifeboat made land with 6 survivors. They had landed at Port Blair on the Andaman Islands. Denis would remain there, a Prisoner-of-war of the Japanese, until his liberation on the 7th October 1945.
On the 10th of October 1942, granddad married my nana. They would later have one son but they would wait until the war ended. Dad was born in 1947.
When my dad was 13, they moved to Lancashire. I often wonder if my granddad knew that his father was from Lancashire. There was no remaining Whitehouse’s. Around the same time that my great-grandfather emigrated, so did his parents and siblings.
Why Lancashire I wondered. I asked my dad. Granddad, a mechanical engineer, had moved up North to help maintain the motorway machinery. At the time the M6 motorway was being built. Granddad also enjoyed making models. We still have some of the incredible detailed models he built in his spare time.
Shortly before he died, Grandad had a visit from those he called his Canadian cousins. Being a young child at the time, I hadn’t been very interested which I regret now. These cousins were apparently descended from great-grandfather’s younger sister Ellen who changed her name to Helen in Canada. Sadly, this cousin passed away the same year as Ryan was born so I couldn’t contact him for more information. I did learn that John was sometimes known as Jack amongst the family. I guess to separate him from his father who was also a John.
The beginning and the end
But that wasn’t the end of my research. I did find my great-grandfather again. It appears that in 1953 he travelled from Canada to Detroit in America. I know it is him as he lists his next-of-kin as his eldest sister. In the document, he claims he is going to visit a friend.
A few days after his arrival he married this friend. I was then able to see a social security application which gave a death date. To prove this was the correct person, I applied for the certificate and was again proved correct.
But a lot of this had been guesswork. I was assuming that the John Whitehouse I was tracking was actually MY John Whitehouse. Would I ever know for sure? I didn’t think I would until the proof I needed came from a surprising source.
Proving my theories
Almost two years ago now, for my 40th birthday, we visited Kent. I wanted to take the children to Legoland Windsor instead of a party. I also meant that I could visit my great aunt, the partner of uncle Denis.
We spent a week in Kent, along with my parents. Half-way through the week, I went to visit Auntie Pearl. My parents and my eldest and youngest were with me. I had been doing a little work on her tree and I was able to show her some family photos. These were photos of her grandparents outside their greengrocers. Amazingly, whilst this shop no longer existed, it was less than a mile away.
I shared a video I had found of uncle Denis. It had been filmed the day the British reoccupied the Andaman Islands. More importantly, it was the day he was released from captivity. She watched it several times, tears runing down her cheeks. I admit, I did as well.
I wasn’t sure she would be interested in what I had found out about my family, but she was. She was fascinated by how much I had discovered, and this was when I heard the bootlegging story.
Proof at last
When it was time to leave Kent, my parents popped to see her again. Between the two visits, auntie Pearl had been busy. She had found some old photos she wanted me to have. One was a gorgeous photo of Denis and my granddad as young boys.
But one document totally blew me away and was so unexpected. How could something so mundane mean so much to me? How could one document make all my hard work? All my guesswork. Worth it!
Hidden amongst the pictures, was a copy of Denis’ passport application. It had been filled in in 1990 by Denis.
As he had been born in Canada, to apply for a British passport was a little different. He had to list the year he had come to live in the UK (1927). He also had to list his parents details.
This was the important bit. Would his father’s details match what I suspected?
His father was listed as John Whitehouse (deceased). The place of birth was listed as Chorley. His date-of-birth was listed as the 27th June 1897. This was the place and the date of the man I suspected was my great-grandfather. They matched! I was correct!
I cried. All my hard work had been proven correct! I had had the correct person all along.
To see in black and white ink that my assumptions were correct was amazing!
Then I had another shock. Someone got in touch with me via Genesreunited. They were distant cousins via my great-grandmother and the Faulkner line. This was amazing enough, but more was to come. She sent me a photo she had. A photo which was taken in 1918. A photo of my great-grandparents on their wedding day!
Again I cried. I had pictures of my great-grandmother from my granddad. I even had a four generational one; Nellie, Granddad, dad and my brother.
But now I had a photo of what my great-grandfather looked like. If you look at pictures of my granddad and his brother, they don’t look much alike. But looking at this picture, I was amazed. I showed my dad and he was too. I couldn’t help feeling a little sad as well. How I would have loved to have shown this to granddad and uncle Denis!
Looking closely, we couldn’t help but be shocked by how much granddad looked like his father. You could tell immediately that this photo was correct and not just by the Canadian soldiers uniform. What do you think? Have a look at this side-by-side comparison. Granddad is on the right, great-granddad on the left. Both wearing the uniforms of the World Wars they fought in.
The search continues…
Yet I haven’t finished looking for what became of my great-grandfather. I want to know what he did between 1927 and 1953. This is the period which is still a mystery. Hopefully, as more Canadian census are released, I might be able to track him. I wonder where I will find him on the 1931 census which will hopefully be released in 1923. Will he be married? Will he have any other children? Does my dad have more uncles, aunts or cousins he doesn’t know?
I’ve checked for matching results and trees on Ancestry. I have looked for connections everywhere I can think of. Yet I still haven’t been able to connect with anyone related to the Whitehouse’s from Chorley who went to Canada. Even the woman that great-grandfather married is of no help. When she passed away in 1973, she was using her previous married name. I cannot contact any living relatives and one distant relative I spoke to, didn’t even know she had remarried.
That is why, for my birthday next week, I’m hoping to get a DNA test. Then I hope I can persuade my dad to take it. As my oldest living relative, he is the best one to begin with. It also makes more sense as his family is the one I’m most interested in.
That doesn’t mean I’m not interested in my mother’s side as well. I also want to track her family. In the future, I hope to test hers as well. Checking them individually helps me work out from which side of my family the DNA matches comes from. My own DNA is made up of a mixture of both of theirs. That means that any cousins I match with could equally come from my mother or father. By testing them individually, I have a greater chance of connecting with cousins from that side of the family. One day, maybe my own DNA will be tested and I can see how many more cousins I can find. How many more brick walls I can destroy!
Things have been quite quiet here on my blog for the past four months. Things at home have meant the blog has had to take a backseat.
I’ve had to deal with ill children, my own mental health, my children’s mental health, illness, broken computer and the worst one was losing my blog and I have spent the last few months trying to get it back. Thankfully I’ve managed to get it back, reasonably intact. Sadly, I seem to have lost many of my photos so I’m going to have to manually reload all the photos. Oh, the joy! I suppose it could be worse though as I could have lost everything.
So now we’re in 2019 and the longest months of the year is almost over! Yay! So here are my goals for this coming year.
Instead of trying to do the impossible and posting every week on my blog, I’m just going to plan on one post a week on a Wednesday. Hopefully by setting an achievable goal I’ll be able to fulfill it rather than giving up.
Visit as many castles as we can as a family. We live in such a beautiful part of the world in North Wales, surrounded by so many fantastic castles. Yet we’ve only visited a few! So this year we’re going to visit as many as we can in what we have dubbed our #!00CastlesChallenge. So far we have done Castell y Bere near Tywyn and Harlech Castles. Images can be found on Instagram or Facebook and video and posts will be coming soon.
So what about you? Did you make any New Years Resolutions? Have you already broken them or are you still going? Comment down below and let us know
Disclaimer We paid for the tickets to enter Llanfair Children’s Farm Park ourselves. Whilst we do sometimes receive tickets or products for free in order to review, this was not the case with Pili Pala Nature World. Whether we paid for tickets or received them for free, our verdict and opinion would be the same. We pride ourselves on our Honest Reviews. For more information check out my Disclosure Policy.
Children’s Farm Park, Llanfair
During the last week of the summer holidays, we decided to take the three youngest to the Children’s Farm Park in Llanfair near Harlech in North Wales. Here is our honest review.
Before I get to the review, I would just like to point out that visiting a farm or petting zoo, which has sheep and other livestock, can be dangerous whilst pregnant. This is because certain animals, and livestock, like sheep, can carry diseases which can cause a miscarriage.
The park is located in the small village of Llanfair on the main A496 road between Barmouth and Harlech. It is signposted on the main road and easy to find. There is a campsite next to the Children’s Farm Park as well as Slate Caverns.
About the Park
The Children’s Farm Park is a wonderful place for young children. It has been updated since our last visit a few years ago with a new gift shop and entrance. Admission prices for a family of five was a reasonable £27.80 and we had the option for some food so that we could feed some of the animals.
What animals are there?
After entering the park, the first thing we saw was the aviary with some owls. We then went across to the rabbit enclosure and we met one of the park workers who said that whilst we could go in and see the rabbits, we would have to come back to hold them as they were having a rest. I was pleased to see that they were taking their animal’s safety seriously and that they were giving rabbits a rest between sessions. The girls loved looking at the rabbits and all their different colourings and pointing out some rabbits which were similar in looks to our twin guinea pigs Taffy and May.
After the rabbit enclosure, we went across to the shed where there were some young goats and calves. The girls had fun feeding and fussing the goats but I was fascinated by the calves and the size of the tongue when I fed it some food. It took a while to encourage the girls to leave as they were having so much fun.
We decided to visit all the animals first so we had a quick look at the pigs (the girls didn’t like the smell) before going down to the outside enclosures which held more goats and one with some sheep. We soon ran out of food feeding all these animals and fussing them.
The Play Areas
Once we’d finished our visit with the few animals they have, it was time to visit the play areas. This is where the Children’s Farm Park shines with indoor and outdoor play areas meaning you can enjoy the park whatever the weather. There are also indoor and outdoor seating areas so you can enjoy a picnic.
The castle play area is another new addition to the park since our last visit. A fun climbing castle with lots of slides, climbing frames and swings. Ideal to tire your excited children. Other outdoor play areas including go-karts, water cannon and hook a duck.
You could even have a go at using a digger (additional cost of £1)
The indoor play areas are a huge sandpit, but living next to the beach met that had little interest to my girls, a small toddler soft play area with a picnic area and a large soft play barn which included air cannons and picnic area.
The air cannons were a HUGE hit and Ruby scored an amazing shot, shooting my phone which was in my hand!
Further up the hill and at an additional cost, is Llanfair Slate Caverns which can lengthen your visit. We didn’t go but I know that parts of the Sean Connery movie, First Knight, which is about King Arthur and the knights of the roundtable was filmed in the caverns.
Is there a cafe?
There isn’t a cafe at the Children’s Farm Park but there is one nearby at the Slate Caverns which are within walking distance.
There is now a small gift shop attached to the Farm Park and the girls were all allowed to choose a small present. Some of the gifts include slate items from the Llanfair Slate Caverns. Prices were reasonable and the girls soon found something they wanted. Ruby chose a snow globe, Reese some ponies and Rhian chose a diary.
Prices and Admission
The Children’s Farm Park is open from Easter until the end of September. Unlike some places, the price you pay is the same year round.
Adult – £5.90
Children – £6
Family (2+2) – £23
Family (2+3) – £27.80
The girls all had lots of fun at the Children’s Farm Park. All animal lovers they enjoyed the opportunity to hold a rabbit and to feed the goats. The play areas are great fun and they enjoyed themselves, especially with the air cannon as Ruby managed to shoot my phone out of my hand when I was filming!
I would recommend it to families with small children as older children might find it a bit boring. I would say it was suitable for ages 12 and younger. We will definitely visit again!