When you walk around Bomere Pool, hands clasped over your ears to silence the roar of the powerboats that play there today don't yearn for the good old days.
Yes, there were some of those but there were some bad ones too. If you stand very still you can almost feel grief and loss in the air around that pool.
One time, long, long ago a great, godless city stood at Bomere. It's people gave themselves up to sin and, it's said, it was impossible to see a good, wholesome deed done there.
A young Roman soldier who had found Christianity for himself came to the city. When he saw how the citizens lived he vowed to guide them towards the path.
The soldier had dedication and surety of belief but try as he might he could not sway the sinners. All, that is, apart from one, the beautiful daughter of the governor. She watched him go resolutely about his task at first fascinated and then, as time passed, entranced.
Her beauty had not escaped him either and gradually the two fell in love, but alas it was not to last.
The young man saw the city's fate in a dream; he rushed there to save his true love.
It was Easter Eve and judgement was ready to be handed out. Caer Caradoc, to the South, split its side and issued forth fire to engulf the city. Then it belched again but this time a tidal wave rolled across the buildings, dowsing the flames but drowning the metropolis and all within it.
Our hero arrived too late and, no matter how he shouted, or cast his crazed eyes around for a sight of her, all was lost.
It is said he died of his grief, and if you go to Bomere Pool on Easter Eve you will see him now. He might be rowing a boat, or walking the woods, but his greying spectre will never give up looking for the love he lost so long ago.