Gelert lives!

When I was a boy, in the 1950s, I was on a motoring holiday in Wales with my parents. My father was a recording artist with the BBC, who needed urgently to contact him - but no-one knew where to find him! Someone in the office recalled that he had mentioned 'something to do with a dog'. And another, more knowledgable, person recalled the 13thC legend of Gelert, the 'faithful hound' of the distraught Prince Llewellyn. 'Aha', they thought, 'we'll phone the one and only [in those days] hotel in Beddgelert'. We were actually based at a hotel in Dolgelly - hence the mis-over heard reference to a 'dog' but, on that particular day - of all days, had elected to visit Beddgelert - of all places. And, after visiting the grave of the famed, martyred dog, we were dining at the hotel. Halfway through that evening dinner, the head-waiter tentatively approached with the news of a phone-call for my father from the BBC. Of all the places in Wales - and at that very moment as well - he had been found! And all because of a misunderstanding too!