Why the Dysynni Valley is right up Sir Andy's Street

July 18, 2025

Why the Dysynni Valley is right up Sir Andy's Street

After Andy Street lost his job as Mayor of the West Midlands last year by the narrowest of margins - just 0.3 per cent of the vote - he was asked by the BBC what he was going to do next. "I'm just going to take time to reflect," he replied, adding: "On Monday, I shall be up Cader Idris in Wales and I'm really looking forward to that."

And so he was. The mayoral election result was announced on May 4th, a Saturday. On Sunday, Andy was on the first train to Tywyn out of Birmingham New Street en route to his beloved retreat in the Dysynni Valley. On Monday, he was striding up the Minffordd Path to the summit of Cader. It's a climb he knows like the back of his hand. "I must have done it about 100 times," he says.

More than a year on, Andy - now Sir Andy, after being knighted in the New Year Honours List - is still bruised at having his quest for a third term as Conservative-backed West Midlands Mayor thwarted. And despite his track record - his credentials also include a hugely successful ten years at the helm of John Lewis - he's struggling to find a "substantive" new role.

Now, more than ever, the converted 19th-century mill he co-owns with longstanding close friend Sir Michael Fabricant overlooking Craig yr Aderyn (Bird Rock) is his joy and his salve.

"I've spent more time here in the past year," he says. "But even now that I've lost my job as mayor, I sort of ration myself. Michael is here a lot more since losing his seat in the last general election (he'd been Tory MP for Lichfield since 1992), but for me, it's special, and for it to stay special, I don't come as often as I could."

Andy's love affair with this part of Wales dates back to his childhood - and for his Birmingham-born family, longer than that. His paternal grandfather's uncle built a small bungalow near Bryn y Mor on Tywyn seafront in the 1920s and Andy would holiday there as a young boy.

"My father, who's 91, has photos of my grandparents on holiday in Tywyn, pre-war, and we would go and stay when I was primary school-age. The bungalow was the building closest to the sea, and I remember being there and thinking the waves would crash over it. The property is still there today, although it's been vastly improved."

The original bungalow on Tywyn seafront

Andy's grandparents then bought a wooden chalet at Caethle Farm on the Aberdyfi Road, and that's where holidays throughout his teenage years were spent. "It was like being in a Famous Five book," he recalls. "My brother, sister and I would be allowed to roam wild, wherever we wanted, in the woods and streams, and I used to love going to Aberdyfi for crab fishing."

As a young adult, Andy became involved with the charity Birmingham Young Volunteers (BYV) Adventure Camps, which took underprivileged city teenagers to Wales. The camps were initially in Pembroke, but Andy switched them to Tywyn.

"I led these holidays for 24 years, moving them to Tywyn in 1990. The kids were a bit of a handful, so we spread them out between four separate fields - one at Dyffryn Glyn Cul, one at Brynglas, one just below Abertrinant and one up at Llanfihangel-y-Pennant - and we'd do all kinds of outdoor activities with them - abseiling, canoeing and plunge-pool jumping. I'd take each group up Cader Idris, so that meant climbing it four days in a row!

"They were truly wonderful holidays, and one of the things that stands out is that everyone we encountered, from the farmers who let us use their fields - in some cases we were the only group allowed to camp there - to the shopkeepers in Tywyn and the staff at the swimming pool, made us feel very welcome. It was in such contrast to Pembroke, where we felt were weren't important. I already knew the Tywyn area, and loved the wild landscape, and I thought that here we would 'be' something to people - and so we were. It was those holidays that really cemented by love affair with this place."

A BYV adventure camp at Dyffryn Glyn Cul

So, when Andy stopped running the camps in 2003, he decided to buy a property in the area.

"I thought, 'I don't want to lose my connection to this place'; it was deep, deep in my heart. And what's really nice is that 20 years later, a lot of people who did those adventure camps with me, who became friends, come down to stay at the house, either on their own or when I'm here. Michael and I are very keen for it to be used as much as possible, not least because it helps to support the local economy."

Andy's acutely aware of how fortunate he is to have a second home in such a beautiful location. "I'm very conscious that a lot of people don't have that contrast between city and countryside. I'm very lucky."

It's the contrast that he relishes. While he loves city life, and all it has to offer, equally he is invigorated by the rugged and sweeping landscapes of rural mid-Wales. Similarly, he's as happy working in his Dysynni Valley garden and summiting Cader as he was running one of the the UK's top department stores and being the first elected mayor of the largest combined authority outside London.

"The primary thing I do when I'm here in Wales is to put my boots on and go walking," says Andy, who at 62 still runs half-marathons. A favourite route is a circular hike around the upper reaches of the Dysynni Valley that takes in Nant yr Eira. "I also do a bit of running around the lanes, and I love swimming, both in the sea and in the river. I adore outdoor things, whatever the weather, and also this little space here at the house and in the garden."

Nevertheless, he doesn't imagine moving to Wales permanently and is still champing at the bit to land another meaty role in public life.

"The truth is that I've applied for lots of jobs and been turned down for them all," he says bluntly. "My previous politics don't fit with government, which is very partisan, locally, regionally or nationally. It's been made very clear there are 'no jobs for you'. It feels personal and it's very hard. The country is in such a mess; surely there's something I can do."

One thing he is doing is helping and supporting individual businesses across the West Midlands. He also recently took on two new roles: Chair of Birmingham Rep theatre and member of the Independent Commission on Community and Cohesion, aimed at addressing growing divisions in British society.

Did being given a knighthood (he already had a CBE) take the sting out of the mayoral election defeat?

"No," says Andy. "What I liked most about the knighthood was that it recognised the mayoral role as being something, and that we'd built it from nothing. It was genuinely good to have that acknowledged. But though an enormous honour, it didn't make up for not winning a third term doing the job I loved. I will never forgive myself for losing."

Yet despite feeling he needed one more term to firmly establish the metro mayoral structure, he is proud of his achievement. "You can't take away the hurt from losing, but I did know we'd built something to pass on. The reason I chucked in my job at John Lewis was that I really believed the regions of England could be better served through the mayoral model."

His tenure as mayor brought into sharp focus the contrast between a role like that and the role he plays as a property owner in the Dysynni Valley.

"I've been thinking about the fact that I'm a custodian of this house and surrounding land for a short period of time," Andy explains. "When you look around at the natural beauty of the landscape, you do feel a responsibility for it - which you don't in the city. For example, there's a small bluebell wood at the back of the house. The trees are predominantly Welsh Oak and they're about 350 years old. I do think, crikey, the wood's already been here for six times longer than I've been alive, so I have a responsibility to maintain it and pass it on. When you're Mayor of the West Midlands, you feel like you're a big cog; here, my sense is that I'm a tiny cog in a huge, natural environment."