Gwenu dan Fysiau

Tra'n mynd trwy dudalen lythyrau'r Western Mail ar y wê (pam ydw i'n mynnu atreithio fy hun?), dyma'r llythyr isod o rifyn heddiw yn dod a deigryn i'm llygaid:

Seeking a Gryff
SIR - Back in 1992 my then three-year-old son Harry suffered horrific nightmares, he would not go to sleep (I have the opposite problem with him now!), around the same time a colourful character called Gryff was being seen advertising the National Garden Festival of Wales at Ebbw Vale.

When we visited the festival Harry met Gryff and my late father bought him a replica soft toy. He was over the moon and Gryff never left his side. When we got home I told Harry to kiss Gryff's red nose and he would be safe from his bad dreams. I honestly didn't think it would work but I was prepared to try anything.

Much to my amazement Harry's nightmares stopped and peace returned to the Griffiths household.

Anyway tragedy struck recently. Gryff was destroyed by our much-loved dog and Harry (now 16) is devastated.

I don't know if any readers know of anyone who has one gathering dust somewhere, I am happy to pay for it, but it would make his day if a replacement could be found.

CATHERIN GRIFFITHS
Trefin, Haverfordwest

Mae'r boi yn 16 oed, a mae ei fam yn ysgrifennu i bapur cenedlaethol yn dewud ei fod eisiau tedi! O'n i arfer meddwl bod fy rhieni i'n greulon tuag atai pan oeddwn yn fy arddegau a'u bod yn hell-bent ar ddinistrio fy mywyd, ond mae hyn yn piso ar eu hymdrechion tila nhw.