He was born on a farm in Gwynedd and died with half a million others at Passchendaele. In between he wrote some of Wales's most moving poetry. A century on, his nephew has dedicated himself to keeping the memory of Hedd Wyn alive
In the parlour sit the chairs, six of them in all, from the simple four-square seat won in Bala in 1907 to the "black chair" of the 1917 National Eisteddfod. This throne of darkened oak has grown brittle as glass, but its ornate carvings are still clear: a Celtic cross, a fish, a ribbon, a sundial, a Welsh dragon, a serpent.
Gerald Williams, their 85-year-old custodian, stands in the afternoon quiet, surveying them all. "I used to play in them as a child," he says. "They were just part of the furniture to me. Their significance came over time."
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