Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 21

This interesting praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Bedo Coch of Rhayader describes an early form of plastic surgery.

No. 182. Praise to Bedo Coch

The brave one from about Rhaeadr Gwy,
Who draws blood from three wounds.
Bedo Coch, without sparing villeins,
Engrave your name once more in prophecy.
The estate of Maredudd rolls
To your hand among eight liberal lines;
The tax of Hywel Gethin
There with the other among nine liberal lines.
From the height of the line of Einion Llwyd
You were counted upon in warfare,
And your sires in Gwerthrynion
Loved single combat and justice.

It is not easy to light a fire
In the waves, and against nature,
No easier, face to face,
To overcome you with arms.
The essence of your being, Bedo,
A generous body that hates flight.
The most cowardly, the most vain in retreat,
Is wounded on the back of the neck,
And the bravest of all, for the sake of justice,
Straight in the face.
From your courage,
like that of a martyr,
A cut has been opened on your face;
So, like the work of Afallach,
Heavenly teachers make you well.
God has sent, with the Holy Ghost,
His shield and ointment to you.
Ptolemaeus long, long ago,
Was your doctor so James says.
Hippocrates, an honest fellow,
But best of all the work of Rhiwallon.

The skill of Doctor Ieuan’s son
Dwells like gold upon your cheek.
Gruffydd’s orthography is good,
A graceful indentation from cheek to teeth,
A letter above the jawline,
A golden S to charm us.
It was soldered, no-one has sown it,
A silken web across your face.
A cement like an enamel cross,
God’s signet on your forehead.
Son of Maredudd, it is as if
The scar on your cheek is gilded;
Dabbed with angelic ointment
Made from frankincense and myrrh.
From the prayers of the twelve,
And by God’s miracle, a beautiful scar.

From now on your life will be healthier,
Bedo stay for four lifetimes.
Your forehead is carefree,
Unworried by any treason,
Without care, without pain,
Without halt, without sickness;
Without refusal to anyone
Your face is without blemish.

Spooks

So which one did you fancy, the blonde one or the brunette? No, not Agnetha or Anni-Frid, for back in the early sixties this question could just as easily have been asked about Christine Keeler and that minx from Pontiets, Mandy Rice-Davies.

Now there is a motor racing connection of sorts to the Profumo affair, for just as the scandal was about to break Miss Keeler was whisked away to Madrid in a plane piloted by “racing driver” Paul Mann. At least that’s what the papers called him, although no-one now seems to recall a driver of that name. Some sources claim that Mann worked for MI5.

This reminds me that it’s said that Jock Horsfall - the MI5 officer killed at Silverstone in 1949 - used his battered Ford transporter to carry the body of “Captain Martin” - in reality Welsh vagrant Glyndwr Michael - to a submarine at Holy Loch. Perhaps you remember the film The Man Who Never Was about this successful attempt to mislead the Germans into thinking there would be an invasion of Sardinia.

Rebecca in Radnorshire

Here's a report of the Rebecca rioters in 1840's Rhayader. In the main Rebecca's activities in Radnorshire were concentrated in those parishes that were still mainly Welsh speaking in the mid-nineteenth century - Cwmteuddwr, Rhayader, St Harmons, Llanwrthwl (OK so it's in Breconshire) and much of Nantmel and Llanyre.

It's as well to remember the causes of these actions. For example a ton of coal cost 16 shillings in Brecon but in order to transport it to Rhayader a total of 9 shillings would have to be paid in tolls. It wasn't as if the Trusts used the tolls they collected to improve the roads, in many cases the local population had to mend the roads at their own expense just to keep them passable.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems. 20

This praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Hywel ap Rhydderch and Annes Aubrey suggests to me that they lived in what locals now call the Mount, above the churchyard in Aberedw. I believe that many of what are described as sites of motte and bailey castles in Radnorshire were in fact re-used as fortified houses in the fifteenth century.

No. 148 Praise to Hywel ap Rhydderch and Annes Aubrey

The fond husband, the over generous wife,
A fair centrestone in Elfael.
The gifts of Hywel ap Rhydderch
He gives me with his loving words;
Annes Aubrey’s gifts of silver
And her ale cause benefit.
Oh God, good their store
Of invitations for a musician.

Hywel, who serves the mead,
Has a name above descent and nobility;
The descent of the lion above the churchyard
Is that of Hywel Fychan;
The descent of Elystan, more than the eighth part,
Even more, the descent of Rhys Michell.
The descent of Annes Aubrey of Brycheiniog,
Generosity that lasts for an age.
God created her from
The heart and ribs of Gw’ater Sais.

Within an old manuscript roll
I found these memories,
They’re had from Rhydderch Hael himself
And from his wife Arddun, the words of a poem;
Ifor Hael and Efa since then,
From the land, were the second couple;
Dafydd in his cywydd
Gave this name to them.
Hywel and Annes, in Elfael,
Were closer to Holy God.
Let their generosity be praised,
The young stag and his maid.

In the orbit of the star of Venus,
Every two stars will be many;
There are many silver coins for me,
Like showers, in the parish of Cewydd.
Bread and corn are as common
In Blaen Edwy as in the Wye vale;
An upright table full of every drink,
White bread, the best work of the bee.
Is bragget not the drink of the house,
Made with the first drawing of Weobley ale?
Hywel, by Derfel, is a father
From the generous of the south lands;
Annes, the daughter of Morgan, is a mother
Of the goodness of the blameless wives.
Hywel is St Elien
And Annes is St Gwen.
Hywel is the generous wine from the wood
And Annes is the vine.
Hywel is gold in the house of feasting,
Annes is gold of the same value.
Two in the peaks of Uwch Mynydd,
Two who are good for meals.
Good Hywel, an angel of plenty,
Annes, too, is so good.
Dewi and his mother bless him,
Let God himself bless her.

Book of the Month

Now I can't say I'm very interested in speedway but I am interested in pre-war Brooklands lady racers and also in the parallels between that alliance of left wingers, upper class anti-semites, fascists and pacifists who opposed the Second World War and their intellectual descendants in the present day anti-war movement. A biography of Fabulous Fay is therefore a must-read for me, although it has to be said that this book concentrates on her earlier speedway career and not her motor racing exploits or her pro-Hitler politics. A second volume covering her post-speedway life is promised.

This first volume is very well researched and well written. It held the attention of even this non-speedway buff. There is nothing as good as this about any pre-war Brooklands racer. male or female.

Die Autobiografie des Rennfahrers Innes Ireland

I recently purchased a copy of the German translation of All Arms and Elbows. This was privately published by translator and enthusiast Thilo Figaj back in 2001. For non-German speaking fans of Innes, the book is well worth picking up for the excellent selection of photographs by veteran French journo Bernard Cahier, who also provides an interesting foreword. I'd class one particular shot of Innes, with Jim Clark at the 1961 Syracuse race, as being among the very best ever taken of the Lotus team leader.

Thilo Figaj produced just 500 copies of the book at a cost of 9000 Euros. The right to publish just one photo, the well-known colour shot of Innes pushing his car home uphill at Monaco in 1960 cost an over the top $500. German fans of F1, and there must be a lot of those at the end of an era dominated by Schumacher, could do worse than purchasing this book. They would have, in their own language, one of the true classics of Motor Sport history. I believe that Thilo Figaj ( by the way he was the very first person to sign the guestbook on my Innes Ireland website ) may still have copies available for sale.

Book of the Month

David Tremayne's new book is a must have for followers of Welsh Motor Sport, covering, as it does, the life of Tom Pryce, along with his contemporaries Tony Brise and Roger Williamson.

Published in the same (280x230mm) large format as the recent Piers Courage biography, this book - it has over 200 illustrations, half in colour - cements Haynes reputation as a leading publisher in the field of motor sport history. Available at less than £20 from Viking, the book is a bargain.

Praise to Maredudd Fychan of Garddfaelog, Llanbister

This is my translation of a superb praise poem verging on satire addressed to Maredudd Fychan of Garddfaelog, Llanbister by the bard Gwilym ab Ieuan Hen. Reflecting the sacrilegious nature of bardic poetry, Gwilym compares the praise meted out to Mareduud by a succession of bards as a chasuble that lends the subject authority and places him under an obligation. The relationship between bard and patron was one of equals not as many believe one of sychophancy.

I am young and bold, I sow praise,
Generous one of the land of Mael, the kingdom of Melwas,
By the Pope, I know who you are!
Maredudd Fychan, to the bards an equal of Ifor,
A spear, the red fire of war!

On nine occasions I've frequented
Your court with a fair design;
Often, in a good humour,
You give to us Maredudd;
A foundation in the headwaters of Maelienydd.
There is much talk of you,
Grandson of Meurig Llwyd, the great spear
who would meet wrath with anger.
Holy God turned away the violence of your enemy
With your great grandfather's clothing.

Wear it, Lord of bright llanbister,
The heavy cloak of fame!
Seed of Ynyr, it was designed for your body,
The worth of ten men.
Llywelyn, that elegant singer of praise,
Designed it, properly, in public,
The fair son of Y Moel, golden hostage,
Arwystl's goldsmith of eulogy;
Llawdden kept the bargain,
You are generous in his dye;
Earnest Swrdwal, craftsman of pleasant odes,
Has faultlessly sown upon this face,
No stitch he placed comes undone,
No careless work from his lip!
And no blunt needle was used
In Gwilym's long seam of praise!
Their work is good this praise of men,
Her tailors are an elect;
A chasuble of harmonious words
Consecrated by these beautiful chiefs of song.

Grandson of Baron Meurig, your cloak
Is like ( from what I know )
the mantle ( if they understand it
You'll have your song ) of ancient Tegau,
In the ancient days of Caerleon,
Where each morning she was tested,
For others it proved short ( short without doubt )
Yet long enough for Tegau.
Sustainer of the bards, this is the kind of
Cloak that I, a young man, have sown for you.
How strange that I am teamed
With a man who is not generous with his wealth;
He should not hide but share his gold,
Your doublet is expensive M'redudd,
Expensive, so you must give gold!
twenty pounds, famous offspring,
It has cost you so far!
By Cybi! There's a miser
Upon your brow, Morda' of the land of Mael,
He'll not give a farthing, less is the favour
Of the hostage who does not give openly.
It is not to be had for money or friendship,
Good clothes do not suit the fellow;
How rarely clothes such as yours are to be had,
They were designed from generosity!

Hiding myself, without fear
Within the song I've made,
Within the diligently tongued praise,
You have a complaint that must be met.
This is your praise, a fair contract,
Here fullness of Maelienydd,
When it deserts you, Mary will desert you,
By the blood of God, let him be generous!

Paddie Naismith

Eirane Naismith, better known as Paddy, although she herself used the spelling Paddie, was an actress and aviatrix who raced at Brooklands in the early thirties.

Driving the Salmson owned by fellow actor, pilot and sometime Labour MP for the Everton divison of Liverpool, Sir Derwent Hall-Caine, Paddie managed to get herself banned from the track at the final meeting of the 1934 season. This was the same meeting where Fay Taylour refused to come in at the end of a race and had to be black flagged. Two events that confirmed some in their belief that allowing women to race at Brooklands had been a great mistake.

Although her acting and racing exploits are long forgotten, Miss Naismith's image will live on, for Paddie was the girl seen in the very first high definition colour television picture transmitted by John Logie Baird in 1940 (see above).

Raymond Baxter 1922-2006

Ask the man in the street who is the voice of motor racing and the chances are you'll hear the name Murray Walker. Long time fans, those who place Fangio, Moss and Clark above the likes of Mansell and Schumacher in the list of greats, will come up with a different name - Raymond Baxter.

As well as being a commentator Baxter also competed in 14 Monte Carlo rallies, see the advert here for example.

Grand Prix Wives, 4

A couple more names to add to the list of drivers wives from racing's dangerous years. Marianne Ankarcrona, the wife of Swedish racer Jo Bonnier and Jacqueline Holter who was Mrs Richie Ginther during his F1 days. From a slightly earlier era, ski champion Christiane de la Fressange was the wife of the great French ace Jean Pierre Wimille; he was killed in 1949, thereby just failing to make it into all those "encyclopedias" which believe that racing only began with the World Drivers Championship in 1950. Haven't tracked down a surname yet, but that wild Belgian racer Willy Mairesse had a wife called Dorine.

Enid Riddell

In 1937 Dorothy Stanley Turner and Joan Riddell finished 16th at Le Mans driving Captain Eyston's little MG Midget. A notable achievement which saw them finish second in the Rudge Whitworth Biennial Cup section of the race. At least that is what nearly every Motor Sport site on the web says. Dig a little deeper and a different name for Stanley-Turner's co-driver comes to light - Enid Riddell.

Now Enid Riddell is a much more interesting character than the fictitious Joan. A member of Captain Ramsay's pro-German Right Club, she was interned in Holloway prison during the war. Like MI5's Director of Transport, the Earl of Cottenham, another motor racing figure, Riddell was a close friend of the Nazi spy Anna Wolkoff. After the war Enid moved to Malaga where she owned a club with the racing name 'La Rascasse', she pops up in April Ashley's memoirs smuggling whiskey. In 1973 Anna Wolkoff, the daughter of a Tsarist admiral, was killed in a car crash in Spain, a car driven by her old friend Miss Riddell. Enid seemingly returned to London, where she died in 1980 aged 76.

Old Ad

Help wanted

A Belgian correspondent just sent in this newspaper cutting featuring Innes. If you have any Innes Ireland anecdotes or photographs I'd very pleased to see them. You can find my email address at the contacts page of my Innes Ireland site ( see links )

Historical Perspectives

It seems to me that historians too often view the world from the perspective of their own time and place. Take London and Radnorshire, nowadays London has a population of millions while Radnorshire is around the 20000 mark. In the Fifteenth century things weren't like that, with London having about 50000 inhabitants and the various Marcher Lordships that went to make up our modern county having around 16000. Clearly East Central Wales was a lot more important in the great scheme of things then than it is today. We should also remember that the great majority of folk in what became Radnorshire belonged to the bonheddig class, people who were trained up for war. This again gave the area a far greater political significance than is imagined by many of the professional historians.

Another moan. We always talk about the English conquest of Wales, while failing to realise that a good portion of Wales, the March, was never conquered. While that part of Wales which was conquered, the Principality, was conquered by kings and captains who were French not English.

This leads me on to perspectives of place. The March was an area where three languages met. The area around New Radnor and Kington for example would have seen French, English and Welsh cultures interacting. From the perspective of a Welsh academic New Radnor and Kington is on the periphery of his world, and likewise for his English and French colleagues. Yet this tiny area is where the Red Book of Hergest and the Book of Taliesin were preserved, where an "English" writer like John Clanvowe originated and where tales such as Caradog Freichfras leaked into French literature.

Ducky Ireland

Ducky - seemingly that was Innes's nickname when he was skippering drifters out of Kirkcudbright harbour in the 1970s.

There are some good tales about this period in the Scotsman's life. About the time he spotted motoring journos Jenks and Alan Henry waiting to see him on the quayside and performed an elegant 360 degree handbrake turn in his trawler. On another occasion he flew to Norway to pick up a second hand boat, only to be told by the port authorities that he would need a crew before he could leave the harbour and sail back to Scotland. The quick thinking Innes retired to a local hostelry and persuaded a couple of drunken Norwegians to sleep off their hangovers on board while he proceeded back across the North Sea. Of course Innes was no great lover of officialdom and that Norwegian trawler soon got him into trouble. Having failed to paint out the boat's Norwegian registration number, Innes attracted the attention of a Navy patrol vessel which called on him to heave-to and explain what a Norwegian was doing fishing the North Sea. Innes then proceeded to try and out manouver the Navy vessel, until her captain finally had a sense of humour failure and put a round across the trawler's bows.

Now if anyone from Kirkcudbright who knew Innes reads this, please get in touch, - you can find my contact details on the Innes Ireland Web Biography link - I'd love to know how he came by that nickname Ducky Ireland.

Book of the Month

Erwyd Howells' book Good Men and True, The lives of the shepherds of mid Wales is chock a block full of great stories by an author who really knows his subject. Mainly concerned with the Cardiganshire side of the Cambrian Mountains, there is still plenty of Radnorshire interest.

Houses and History in the March of Wales

Richard Suggett's book should be purchased by anyone with an interest in the history of Radnorshire. One small mistake in the book is an underestimation of the population of the county at the end of the Nineteenth Century, it was 23000 not 16000 as Richard believes. I know exactly how this error came about because I have made the same mistake myself, some of the published population sources refer to the population of the Radnorshire Poor Law Unions rather than the county as a whole and parts of the county were included in the Builth and Hay Unions.

Siams Dwnn c1570-c1660

James or Siams Dwnn of Betws Cedewain, Montgomeryshire is hardly one of the better known Welsh bards, he merits only a few lines in the Dictionary of Welsh Biography and is noted in the Oxford Companion to Welsh Literature only under the entry of his father, the herald bard Lewis Dwnn. If I ever wondered about Siams Dwnn in the past it was because of his Mid Wales connections and the fact that he carried the bardic tradition deep into the Seventeenth Century.

Now four volumes of a work entitled Astudiaeth o Fywyd a Gwaith Siams Dwnn (C.1571- C. 1660): Cywyddwr o Fetws Cedewain yn Sir Drefaldwyn is being published by Dafydd Huw Evans and the Edward Mellen Press. The four volumes, detailing the work and life of James Dwnn, amount to over 1700 pages at a cost of nearly £310. In an age when so much that passes for scholarship is shallow and banal, I find the news of this project inspiring.

So do I buy these four volumes or ten years of sixties Autosports?

More Old News

The Hereford Journal reported on the flash flood of 9th July 1853, that led to the loss of three lives in Howey, I guess if it happened today the “experts” would blame global warming. This event was still recalled in the village when I was a lad in the 1950s:

“At 1 o’clock the rain began to fall in torrents, and by 4 o’clock the usually peaceful little brook had risen to the almost incredible height of 15 feet. A little before 4 a cottage gave way to the devastating element, and soon afterwards the bridge fell in with a fearful crash. In a short time two other cottages gave way, and two lives were lost. A poor man, who has for a length of time has been unable to move from his bed, was swept out of one house, bed and all; his wife and a twin child belonging to another woman in the house were drowned. The mother, with the other child naked in her arms, stood for upwards of two hours upon the projecting point of an old-fashioned chimney-piece, when she was perilously rescued by her brother, who proceeded to her assistance with a rope fastened around his body and held by persons who succeeded in getting them into an adjoining garden.”

It’s sometimes forgotten that western Radnorshire was a centre of the Rebecca movement in the 1840’s. Here’s a typical report from the Times of 7th November 1843:

“A few nights ago a party in the usual disguise of Rebecca and her daughters, some of whom were on horseback, but the majority on foot destroyed the turnpike gate at Newbridge, Radnorshire ......... a detachment of the 4th Light Dragoon is now stationed at Newbridge, having been removed from Builth to that place at the request of the magistrate."

Finally a strange tale of middle class life from the Times of January 24th 1963:

“A boy, aged 13, travelled 140 miles in the boot of his father’s Bentley tonight before he was freed with the help of Automobile Association officers in Leicester. The father, Mr Barry Hutton of Builth Wells, had driven his son Peter to his school at Crawley, and as the boy was unpacking his suitcases he fell into the boot and the lid shut. Mr Hutton, thinking the boy was in the school, set off for Nottingham.”

What, No Posts in August!

Here's Autosport's famous Scottish racing blue cover celebrating the Ecurie Ecosse victory in the 1956 Le Mans race.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems. 19

This is a praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi for Llywelyn ap Rhys of New Radnor. It makes some interesting points about buying and selling land - an alien concept under Welsh law - Y Draethen seems to have been some kind of administrative district in the Vale of Radnor.

No 164 Praise to Llywelyn ap Rhys

In a feast Llywelyn is an angel,
If a man can be an angel;
He has given his bards Rasbi wine,
The hawk of Rhys ap John,
The grandson of Einion, from the men of old,
Son of Hywel Fain with the fir stake;
Captain of the fair town and its wall,
A constable who beautifies any regiment.

The man’s nature, an ash through the rock,
Who loves land and fair words.
Land inherited through descent
Is the fourth gift to mankind;
Lewis is a second Elias of old
Belonging to the earth.
Whosoever sells land about the house,
In the end he will fail.
He who buys land will be honoured,
Who never sells back the smallest copse.
He has and will have profit;
Are there a hundred men with such profit?
His great store of money is no less
Than that of a thousand from Anglesey and Maelor,
Nor his estate than the two fair lands of Gwent,
Nor his taxes in Y Draethen.

Llywelyn is one member
Of Y Dref Wen, it vexes me that he is;
Namely what he has made in Maesyfaidd,
Laying a foundation and sealing a root,
Desiring a feast and watching over all
On the commons against transgression,
Keeping the franchise more like
Great Cedewain than Windsor Fair,
Breaking down the kindred hatreds,
Every day treating for peace,
Yet if there is war, Llywelyn’s
Hand is not less than any man’s.
Edward, when he came home
Through the sea to the land of mead,
The lion Rhys, by giving many gifts
To every quarter, received him.
And his ready task to create Easter work
In the early morning in Barnet,
And in the Tewkesbury to lay out the day
And win it with his ash spear.

It would be only proper for a very generous lion
To have reward for the work of his blade point.
It will be known before the feast of Mariaith,
The lion from Rouen will benefit our nation.
King Edward will share land with his men
And two kinds of wine.
When the head shares out the island
He will save a share for the son of Rhys.

Philip Turner, Welsh Racing Driver

Plenty of Welsh born racers starred on the pre-war Brooklands banking. Most famously of course there was Parry Thomas, but also the Eccles brothers, Rose-Richards, Charley Martin, Captain Marendaz, Penn-Hughes and racing as "Tim D. Davies" Dudley Folland.

Now, due to the researches of some of the guys on the TNF forum, we can add another name to that distinguished list, Philip Turner. Turner, who was also an accomplished power-boat racer and point-to-point rider, appeared at Brooklands between 1924 and 1933. Mysteriously he often raced using a nom de course such as "J. Taylor", "S. Bird", "R. Wilson", J. Sinclair" and "J. Philip". His great successes came in the major event of the year the Brooklands 500 races, retiring while in second place in 1931, finishing second in the following year's race as "J. Philip" and third in 1933 using his own name.

Born Joshua Philip Tanchan in Abergavenny in 1897, he changed his name to Turner in 1919. The Tanchans were a Jewish family who came into South Wales from Prussia via America in the middle years of the nineteenth century. Turner's family were originally in the clothing trade but young Philip was soon to become one of the leading car dealers in London, specialising in Rolls Royce and other top of the range motors. In 1935 Turner's businesses ran into financial trouble and he was declared bankrupt with liabilities of £30000 (at least a million in modern terms) and assets of only £10. Turner blamed his demise on share dealing and heavy racing expenses, the court's verdict was "rash and hazardous speculations and unjustifiable extravagance in living." Like so many of the racing crowd Turner was above all else a risk-taker.

Courts of Great Sessions

The Welsh media are reporting that today's Government of Wales Act will give birth to the first separate Welsh legal system since the time Henry VIII. The truth is that the Courts of Great Sessions, which were finally abolished in 1830, were the last independent Welsh courts. It's said that these courts were ended because of their popularity with Welsh litigants and because the English lawyers wanted to get their hands on the fees.

Innes Ireland Memorabilia

An interesting item for sale on ebay at the moment is a visitors book from a Goodwood hotel, signed by various celebrities of the 1950s and 60s. From the date we can see that Innes Ireland stayed the night before the 1960 Tourist Trophy race. Starting price £1100, happy bidding! Oh and Innes finished third in the race driving an Aston Martin

Attack on the Birmingham Water Pipeline, 1952

Many people are aware of the bomb attacks in Wales during the 1960s, far less well known is an earlier incident which occured in Radnorshire on Sunday 19th October 1952.

The explosion at the Fron aquaduct near Crossgates caused a good deal of damage but failed to destroy the pipeline itself. Happening as it did just a few days before the Queen was due to open the new Claerwen reservoir on Thursday 23rd October, the explosion led to increased police activity against the Welsh Republican Movement, a small but influential group of left-wing nationalists. In May 1953, a 29 year old machine operator from Bangor, Peter Lewis, was convicted of sentenced to 18 months in jail for possesing explosives but no-one was ever convicted of the attack..

Spannerman

This little article from the January 1959 edition of the Ecurie Ecosse magazine "News From The Mews" must have been one of Innes's first journalistic assignments. It's fitting that it should mention three of the more influential characters in the Scotsman's life. Chapman and Lotus, of course, gave Innes his break into Grand Prix racing while Ireland eventually ended up married to Hawthorn's girlfriend.

The third of the trio is legendary spannerman Brit Pearce. Pearce originally worked as racing mechanic for the Hawthorns at their TT Garage in Farnham. With Leslie Hawthorn dead and Mike driving full time for Ferrari, Brit moved on to work for Innes at his Golden Acres establishment near Elstead, Surrey. By 1957 this had developed into a team that maintained Lotus Elevens for a variety of private owner-drivers.

When Innes joined Lotus in 1959, Brit was taken on by one of these privateers, Mike Taylor who crashed disasterously in the 1960 Belgian Grand Prix when the steering wheel of his Lotus came off in his hands. Brit Pearce was none too pleased with Chapman who had a reputation for slap-dash work where driver safety was concerned. Grasping Chapman by the throat, it took several on-lookers to pull Pearce away and allow the purple faced Team Lotus boss to catch breath. Brit's accusation "You've killed my f.....g driver!" turned out to be untrue as Taylor survived the crash, although he never drove again. Was Chapman to blame? Well he paid Mike Taylor substantial damages for negligence, a reported £10000.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 18

This request poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi is no doubt addressed to the Men of Elfael. This seems to have been some sort of assembly or council, perhaps similar to the type of government found in some Swiss cantons - a body comprised of all the free men of the cantref. The cross of Tyfaelog can still be seen in Llowes Church.

No 143, To Request a stallion from the Men of Elfael

Blessed God, ‘til my last day,
To the generous land that chases a stag.
Once, long ago, I was young and cheerful,
That was then, today I’m old,
And with age comes bad temper,
I’m an unwelcome pedestrian.

Although I’ve had the gold of the fair lands of Elfael,
Now I desire something more.
I desire a stallion,
One with a coat as black as charcoal.
From the manor to the van, I’m not interested
In some wild-tempered bay,
A slim lion is what I desire,
A strong giant or a rounded stag,
As fair as that great stallion, his sire,
As tame towards me as a sheep.
Today it’s easy work to find him
In the pound of the two Elfaels;
And then like swan feathers,
A smooth saddle to cover the horse,
And a short bit in his nostril
To stop him from jumping.
I am as gentle as a swan,
My stallion is gentle on my backside.
Up top, my saddle is smooth,
Like the van, I’m bald.

The two best lands in all the world,
The cultivated lands of Elfael,
Idnerth Hir and Elystan turned them
Into a land of fields,
And then, full of riches,
They were Einion Clud’s yard.
Elfael has never lent her shoulder,
Like so many lands, to an English tune.
Elfael is greater than a thousand myriad,
More than the fair of Man and her roads.
Troy was broader than Greece,
Wide in one fair whorl,
Yet the Greeks and their turmoil
Broke through the walls of Troy;
The men of Elfael also go
Through the wide lands of the earth.

If there is a musician without
A share of silver or mead,
Let him drop his prices, let him search the Wye
For silver, as far as Clyro;
From Clyro, calling for strength
In his heels, back to Diserth;
From Diserth, and being honoured,
Let him come to the land of Aberedw.
In strength he will have cattle,
In minted gold, in kind words,
In corn, on the banks of the Edw,
In great stallions, in greater happiness.

Over Elfael, the Cross of Tyfaelog,
And the Virgin, and the Cross and the Holy Rood,
Let Dwynwen extend her cross
Over the land of Mael, over fair Elfael,
God’s will be done, below the land of Mael,
And Sulfedd bless Elfael!

That Gallant Little Lady, Gwenda Hawkes, 1894-1990

Gwenda Glubb's motoring exploits are well known - she raced variously as Janson, Stewart and perhaps most famously as Gwenda Hawkes in the pre-war period, a time when women competed against men at the highest levels of the sport.

The daughter of a general, the much decorated Sir Frederick Manley Glubb, her brother John, still remembered as Glubb Pasha the commanding general of Jordan's Arab Legion.

Better known as a record breaker than as a racer Gwenda was the fastest woman at Brooklands, 135.95 mph and the outright record holder at Montlhery, ( she lived in Paris for many years ) with a lap of 145.94 mph in husband Douglas Hawkes' Derby Special.

Adventure was in her genes and Gwenda's motoring skills had been honed in the First World War where she served as an ambulance driver with the Scottish Women's Hopsitals on the Russian front and the Balkans.

What the motoring historians seem to have missed is the central part played by Miss Glubb in what has been described as Britain's Dreyfus case, the public inquiry set up in 1919 by Churchill into the dismissal of, and perhaps also to publically discredit Violet Douglas-Pennant, head of the Women's Royal Air Force. Miss Douglas-Pennant had taken over a service of 14000 young women supervised by only 75 officers scattered over 500 camps. Correctly diagnosing that the training of a new officer corps was a priority, Douglas-Pennant was frustrated at every turn by what she perceived as an alliance of lesbian female and chauvinistic male subordinates. Despite bringing some order to the chaos and training-up 450 new officers, Miss Douglas-Pennant was sacked in 1918 because of her unpopularity with the service. The enemies of the Liberal Government saw that an inquiry would be an opportunity for trouble-making, while the Government realised that such an inquiry could be turned to its own advantage by destroying Douglas-Pennant's reputation. Enter Miss Glubb.

Miss Douglas-Pennant had made various allegations in a private letter to Churchill which he immediately published in the form of a White Paper. It was alleged for example that there was a good deal of sexual immorality at Hurst Park Camp involving the Camp Commander and a young air woman, Miss Gwenda Glubb. The 14 day inquiry - the salacious details were published in a Government Blue paper and lapped up by the press - found that there had been no impropriety between the officer and Miss Glubb, medical evidence was presented that showed that the "gallant little lady" was virgo intacta. Miss Douglas-Pennant was clearly a snob, a prim and vindictive primadonna.

The affair dragged on for 20 years being periodically raised in the courts and in Parliament by friends of Miss Douglas-Pennant who, it was said, had been driven somewhat mad by the whole business. As for Gwenda Glubb, she was indeed briefly married to the commanding officer accused of seducing her, Sam Janson.

A Radnorshire connection? A government report into the living conditions of girls in camps had been written by Lady Rhondda whose mother came from Pen Ithon, Llanbadarn Fynydd. Her evidence to the inquiry was not favourable to Miss Douglas-Pennant.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 17

No 147 A Request for Cattle to Annes Aubrey and Isbel vz Rhys

Two women more kindly bred
Than any two alive, as God is a surety.
Annes Aubrey, without flattery,
Daughter of Morgan, the vineyard of our nation;
The noble blood of Isbel, daughter of Rhys Fychan
From Is-Mynydd, Good day!

You are good, two Llywys for the land,
And good, too, your two fathers.
In terms of bloodline, you excel,
You are higher than the high woodland.
Your nobility grows Annes
From Aubrey, as pure as mead,
From Gwallter Sais and Rhosier Hen,
From the deer herd of Moreiddig Warwyn.
Isbel, your descent has been high,
Its place at the summit of pedigrees,
The descent of Ifor, supreme,
From Y Tanwr, no lesser man.
Two lands, your ancient tribe’s inheritance,
These are the two lands of your two tribes:
The two banks of the Wye as far as Monmouth,
The two well-cultivated lands of Elfael.
And your two husbands are placed
In the front rank as far as the land of Emlyn:
Fluent Hywel of the race of Rhydderch,
Brought to the affection of Siôn ap Phelpod.
Neither of your two husbands would begrudge
Your honouring a bard or a musician.

I do not demand from anyone good,
But only for your two faces.
Two barrels of white ferment,
As dark as Weobley ale;
Not the nation’s wooden barrels,
But barrels that refill.
I shall ordain for the two
A house of straw and two torques.
Behold, two vineyards of Hirddywel,
Their liquor is like honey,
If the new Gascon wine is white,
Then their wine will be pure white.
And there were great portents
Upon them, like upon the cattle of Anglesey;
Bent like drinking horns
And marked on their foreheads.
Eight feet of the same age
Running with medicine from eight faucets.
It has the property to restore a hundred fellows
Who’ve been on the beer.
It does not cause an untimely mass,
Nor mess up my clothes or my head;
It does not make me tipsy, a sozzled weakling,
Nor drunk, nor deaf.
When I go on a journey
It saves me from giddiness.
It improves my muse,
And is the point that keeps my mind in time.

You both could, were my request greater,
Reward me twice over from your store of cattle.
You shall have while a vine grows
my wine from a green shoot.
I shall have, Isbel and Annes,
Your wine and more of your profit.
To you two, and to your two husbands
A life twice as long as an oak in water.
To me your good cattle without condition,
To you the blessings of your bard.

The Lewis Formula One Car

Welsh constructor Cyril Kieft's Formula One car could have been a world championship challenger in the 1950s. The project came to a halt when Coventry-Climax took fright at the power outputs claimed by its Continental rivals and ceased develpment of the FPE V-8 engine. We now know that the bhp figures claimed by the European manufacturers were fictitious, the Kieft project has been completed and the car is running with great success in present-day historic races.

Another "Welsh" car that never made it to the track was built for Jack Lewis's H&L Motors team. In 1960/61Ted Jeffs, the Lewis team mechanic built a straight-tube chassis designed for Formula One, reaching the stage where it stood on its wheels in the Lewis team's Stroud workshop. The project was then abandoned and the chassis sold on for completion as a hill climb special.

Right Stuff?

I guess everyone knows that Max Mosley, president of FIA, is the son of Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the pre-war British Union of Fascists and National Socialists, that's National Socialists as in Nazis by the way. This isn't the only link between the party and the world of motor sport.

The BUF had a number of prominent motor racers in its ranks. It's said - on what evidence I know not - that the Brooklands car park was packed with vehicles bearing the flash and circle symbol of the party (see picture). Certainly Sir Malcolm Campbell, best known for his land speed record breaking, is still celebrated on Mosleyite web sites as being a prominent member of the BUF and again with the claim that the flash and circle adorned his famous Bluebird cars.

At least four individuals with motor racing connections were amongst the thousand or so British fascists imprisoned under regulation 18b. Welshman Captain Douglas Marendaz was a leading Brooklands racer and constructor of the Marendaz Specials, cars which were driven amongst others by Stirling Moss's father Alfred. The Irishwoman Fay Taylour was amongst the most famous of the pre-war lady drivers, originally a speedway rider she turned to motor racing when the speedway authorities banned women riders for safety reasons, in reality because Fabulous Fay was winning too often. An out and out fascist, Fay's wartime file has recently been released by MI5. Here is an extract from the autobiography of Mosley's secretary Hamm which confirms Miss Taylour's continued allegiance to the cause, he is describing the old fascist leader's 80th birthday party in 1976:

“I had placed Lady Mosley on his right, and beside her two 'old girls' of her Holloway Prison days, class of 1940. One was my old friend Fay Taylour, former star of speedway and motor racing. (In the early, pre-war days of speedway women had been allowed to compete, and Fay had beaten all the leading male riders, breaking a number of track records). When I last saw her she was still a very attractive woman. She told me that a journalist once asked why such a beautiful girl had never married, but had taken up such a rough sport as speedway. She replied: "I was engaged once, but he broke off the engagement and asked me if I wanted to buy his motorbike!"

During 'The Battle of Ridley Road' Fay used to drive me home after the meetings in a rather magnificent Jaguar car.“I never experienced the slightest fear at these meetings, however many bricks were flying, but I used to be terrified by Fay's driving, and would clutch the seat with both hands, as she took every corner on two wheels. Years later (when she had returned from selling sports cars to film stars in Hollywood) I was talking to her about this magnificent car, and I was surprised to learn that it had not been hers. She told me that in Holloway she had met among the prisoners a rather high-class call-girl, and when they were released she had given her friend driving lessons in return for the occasional use of her Jaguar. “The Special Branch must have been quietly amused when they first noted its number and checked on its owner”.

Incidently the "Battle of Ridley Road" were a series of fascist street fights in 1946 and 1947. It's remarkable how quickly the fascists reorganized in England so soon after the war.

The last two detainees were W. G. Barlow, who raced Bentleys in the 1920s, and Dorothea Duff of whom I know nothing.

Innes with his Replica Testarossa, 1991

Old News

The County Times failed to recognize a former Grand Prix driver and Radnorshire resident in this story from the back end of 2004.

Radnorshire Amusements

A Letter to the Times dated 16th January 1878

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 16

This a praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi addressed to Bedo Chwith of Bryn Pennardd, Cregrina. You can see the site of Bryn Pennardd in the photograph on the left. All over Wales you can find these old halls of the uchelwyr, the English historians and their followers think they are motte and bailey castles.

No. 150 Praise to Bedo Chwith and Gwenllian vz Gwilym

This man whose home is above the fair meadow,
And the quiet, excellent wife:
Bedo Chwith, there his six fold payment
Will be given to me;
Next there is Gwilym’s daughter
Wearing the gold of the south upon two dresses,
Good natured Gwenllian
From Caio, from the line of a fair knight.
From Gwilym and from Meilyr,
A beautiful vine and earth’s increase.
God and the Church have rolled
Two names into one under their protection:
The strong, dark man of Glasgwm,
The sun of Cil y Cwm.

Being daily found wandering on the van
From yonder Roman town;
Bryn Pennardd is so beautiful,
The dinner that awaits us.
It seems to me that the Edw
Flows with Weobley ale and
That the Tywi pours with mead,
They placed it there on the river gorge;
As if the gold of the Bishop of Durham
Was in this court above the church,
And the silver of ancient Cyrys
Was placed there in Rhys’s grandson’s house;
As if the wheat of the Golden Vale or more
Were there in the house of fair Elfael,
Repaired to in one night,
Then spent the second night.
Let the lad out of love of drinking mead
Go along to Llwyn Hoeddliw and its dwelling.
There I’ll climb the bank,
Climbing to the home of an angel,
To Rhiw, to the house of Hywel’s grandson,
To the spot where honey is brought.

The world swarms about his head,
He and the moon of Mallaen.
A river grows bigger as it goes to the sea
And then is no more;I go, like a river,
To their house upon the breast of the hill.
There are children, good blessings,
To the round margin of Cregrina;
To Bedo they come in pairs,
From the fair woman they spring.
Come Powys and the South
As far as Gwent, to the house of these two.
Good Gwenllian invites them,
Her husband hands them gifts,
Her husband tunes the bards
With gold each day, the lord of Pennardd.
Great the seas about Anglesey,
More are the talents of my people.
Great is the seed of Britain,
More is the rent of these Welsh folk.
Mary, guard them on the shore of the Edw,
Amen! For as long as they wish.

The Mysterious Mr O'Brien

Considering that he was the first statesider to compete in a World Championship Grand Prix (Belgium 1952) precious little seems to be known about Robert O'Brien. Lacking the barest biographical detail or even a photograph most encyclopedias ignore him. Theories abound, he was a more famous American racing under an assumed name or, as some claim, a CIA agent taking time off from the day job of crossing into East Germany.

There certainly appears to have been an American racer called Robert O'Brien who appeared briefly in SCCA events in 1951 and 1952 racing his own Jaguar XK120. Bob hired a Ferrari 166MM to take 4th place in the first Sebring 12 Hour race and also drove a Connaught at Bridgehampton where he was photographed, a picture that confirms that the gentleman (shown left) observing Bira at the 1952 Spa race is indeed the mysterious Mr O'Brien.

It's strange that more is not known about O'Brien. He seems to have been a run of the mill SCCA racer and one would have thought that there would be many people from that era who would remember the man. There is also some confusion with Bill O'Brien, a Frazer-Nash owner, who entered but did not compete in the 1952 Targa.

A final mystery, on the last day of August 1952, O'Brien competed in the Grenzlandringrennen F2 race in a Simca-Gordini entered by the Viscomtesse de Walckiers, a lady who does not seem to exist except on motoring web-sites.

Brynfan Tyddyn

Brynfan Tyddyn, great 1950s road racing circuit, lot of big names raced there.

Like who?

Carroll Shelby, Phil Hill

So it was an old airfield track?

No, a proper road racing circuit, three and a half miles long, Hill called it a mini-Nurburgring. It was on an estate owned by a local politician, big breeder of trotting ponies, name of State Senator Woods.

State Senator? This track wasn't in Cardiganshire then?

Brynfan Tyddyn? No, it was near Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania

Llanidloes, a typical Welsh town?

DNA, archaeogenetics - all exciting stuff for those of us with an interest in Welsh history - a chance to discover lost origins and population movements from the information locked within our own genes. It would help though if the scientists conducting the research had a little more understanding of old fashioned document based history when designing their tests.

Take studies in Welsh DNA, much of it based on three market towns tested for the BBC's Viking project, Llangefni, Llanidloes and Haverfordwest. Leaving aside Haverfordwest, which being in South Pembrokeshire is hardly typical of Welsh Wales, what about Llanidloes? Llani, as the locals call it, is slap bang in the middle of the ancient Welsh cantref of Arwystli, and in the sixteenth century this area was the scene of an Ulster style plantation organised by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Large numbers of tenants from Derbyshire and Lancashire were settled in the area at the expense of the local Welsh population.

Now as it happens, and mainly because both locals and incomers shared a common religious faith, this English plantation became integrated into the local population, indeed became thoroughly Welsh in speech and sentiment. The only trace left today of this is in common local surnames such as Ashton, Woosnam, Wigley, Jarman, Hamer, Breeze, Chapman, Cleaton, Bumford etc.

I wonder if the scientists were aware of this unique genetic background when they picked Llanidloes as one of their centres to test? More likely they just looked at the map and found what they assumed was a typical market town in the middle of Wales.

Another Mid Wales Road Racing Circuit

At the back end of 1968 the Royal Welsh Agricultural Society submitted plans to the local authority for the provision of a road racing circuit on the Llanelwedd showground site. Approval was also sought from the RAC and the ACU, the plans including a mile long spectator gallery. This was all reported in the December 30th 1968 edition of the Times newspaper. Great idea, what a shame it came to nought.

Violette Morris

How many people realise that the young lady with the necktie in Brassai's famous picture "Lesbian Couple at Le Monocle" is the French racing driver Violette Morris. A sporting all-rounder: world shot put and discus record holder, soccer and water-polo international, champion weightlifter, boxer, racing cyclist, feminist icon, German spy and Gestapo torturer.

This winner, in 1927, of the 24 Hour Bol d'Or race was assassinated by the Resistance in 1944.

Major Rupert Robinson

A reader enquires who was Major Rupert Robinson who helped Innes Ireland purchase his first Lotus XI at the tail end of the 1956 season?

Innes's brother Allan was at that time a captain in the Royal Artillery. I've read a contemporary report in Autosport, which gives the Major's initials as R. C. Robinson. If that is the case then this was probably Major Rupert Chater Robinson R. A., an Old Marlburian, something of a sportsman - Squash and Cricket. I'm not aware that he had any motor sport connections other than his friendship with the Irelands?

In his Autosport profile of 21/10/1960 Innes has this to say about Major Robinson, who is described as being in the "Airborne Artillery":

One day he offered to buy me a car and run it for me. I just couldn't believe it. He finally convinced me that he meant what he had said and bought me a Series I Mk II Lotus. I had my first race in it in September (1956) at Goodwood where I came fourth in one event and second in another. The next week we went to Aintree, where I gained two seconds and broke the club lap record.

"This, of course, was a tremendous break for me and I just cannot find the words to express my gratitude to Major Robinson. However at the time I promised him that should the day ever come when I found myself making money out of racing, I would repay every penny he spent in giving me that golden opportunity. Now I am reaching the position where I can fulfil that promise."

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 15

This Wedding Ode was composed for the marriage of Robert Whitney of the tiny Marcher lordship of Whitney, now just across the English border in Herefordshire, and Elis, the daughter of Tomas Fychan and Elen Gethin of Hergest, Kington. The neithior, wedding feast held before the marriage was an important element in the bardic tradition, for it was here that the apprentice bard graduated. This long and perhaps, for the casual reader, tedious awdl is full of historical interest.

123. Wedding Ode to Robert Whitney and Elis vz Tomas Fychan

Oh God, who on the Wye bank has wit?
Master Robert of Whitney,
Staunch eagles from the houses of the cross,
From the line of Trussell, with no lesser blood.

The line of marriage causes no more worry,
The daughter of Tomas ap Rhosier,
Mistress Elis, is chosen,
It is like choosing a sun from a company of stars.

Every courser of their court is a star
Food and drink fill the table,
I feel a chill when I see his ward,
Strange to be without Robert’s tower.

In his father’s tower, Robert
Is surrounded by money, more than in Newgate,
By stallions and spearmen in the embrace of battle,
More numerous than parishes, in their plate armour.

In her curtained tower, Mistress Elis
Has money and treasure, jewels and dresses;
On Monday she’ll wear clothes of damask silk,
Matching chamlet and velvet,
With a train of gold over her head and cheek,
She’ll wear garlands and scarlet,
And pray to Jesus for a fruitful life,
Nine lives she’ll bring to estate.

Generous Master Robert calls Elfael his country,
A master who shares his wealth freely with me.
Here he is a fair and equitable magistrate,
He sits on many councils of escheat,
No treachery may be proved against him,
None ever will be, no case would stand,
While there is a boat or a ship anchored at sea,
While the sky has colour, while the moon exists.

In the lord’s court everyone has their place,
Henchmen and yeomen are not refused,
Golden coursers whinnying,
Trumpets, bowmen, stags bleating,
The greyhounds of Whitney, a hundred hunting dogs,
A host of huntsmen in uniform,
The Epiphany kitchen busy with cooks, butler, cellar men, chattering carpenters,
And outside the court laughing peasants,
And outside the tower a minstrel without an invitation;
And from the bride, progeny and a supreme lineage,
And from the groom issue and lineage and seed.

Amen! Seed and lineage as she would desire
From the Lord of Whitney;
In their court a place of Alsace wine,
In their white towers and their houses.

The contracted court of my lady,
The courts of my lord like sunshine,
Her saintly tower is a sanctuary.

The tower of Master Robert, an ash,
A better tower than the White Tower,
A brilliant-white square storybook tower.

What house is that in the shape of five dice
Yonder, like Sandwich?
Is it not Elis’s court upon a headland?

A citadel on the Wye bank,
With her it is greater than
The tower of Joshua, than Caesar’s tower.

Set on a beach it is no less,
This Nudd’s house in fair Whitney,
Than the houses of charity that Lazarus built.

These two are no less,
With their wine for me,
Than the flowers of the south through all the earth.

More free the gifts
From his hand, as hers,
Than the flow of a river, to a guileless scholar.

Fair the gifting
Of gold given to Mary,
Like snow for Jesus from Balthasar.

From their mine of gold and their mead,
From their goods in like manner,
From their feats, the two friends would not refuse me.

The rents of their lands
I’d have and gowns,
Various vegetables, food on a spit.

A variety of sea food,
The wealth of vale and mountain,
More spirits, various birds.

An Arthur will not refuse me,
As tall as an ash tree,
And she, too, is Gwenhwyfar.

Ugh! To the Saxon up
From their stronghold which he hates,
A cold life to him who loves not the Welshman.

Deiniol, St Denis,
Cedwyn has protected them,
Dewi, Non, Elis, Dwynwen, Ilar.

To them the life of Moses,
As long as Old Noah,
Two lives of two trees, an oak tree and an oak wood.

A start in good health
Mary, grant them,
Long their conquest and a distant parting.

Let their parting be distant, let their lifetime
Be longer than the oldest unto Monmouth,
To scatter gold upon the Arrow,
To fill the banks of the Wye with wine!

Jack Lewis in Formula Three

After a couple of lessons with the Cooper Racing Drivers' School, 21 year-old Jack bought the ex-Ivor Bueb Formula 3, Cooper-Norton for the 1958 season. During the year he competed in 13 meetings:

18thMay, Brands Hatch, Junior F3 race, 2nd
24thMay, Full Sutton, F3 race, 1st
7thJune, Oulton Park, F3 race, 1st
5thJuly, Crystal Palace, F3 race, 8th
26thJuly, Oulton Park, F3 race, 1st
27thJuly, Snetterton, F3 race, ?5th
4thAug, Brands Hatch, World Sports Trophy, 2nd (won heat)
9thAug, Silverstone, Commander Yorke Trophy, 2nd
30thAug, Brands Hatch, Lewis-Evans Trophy, 4th
7thSept, Snetterton, F3 race, 3rd
20thSept, Oulton Park, F3 race, ?retired
5thOct, Brands Hatch, World Sports Trophy, ?

Highlights of the year included a 2nd place to established Grand Prix ace Stuart Lewis-Evans at the World Sports Trophy race at Brands and another 2nd in the 100 mile Commander Yorke Trophy at Silverstone, a race won by Trevor Taylor. Jack had some bad luck in this race as he had fitted an extra fuel tank, considering that the extra weight would be more than compensated for by not having to refuel. Unfortunately the tank split and the car was forced into the pits.

Any corrections or additions to the record welcomed.

When they Burnt the Union Jack in Middleton Street

The small balcony where Sir Francis Edwards spoke can just be seen by the pole holding the Victoria Hall sign.


Here's a taste of life in Llandrindod at the start of the last century which seems a million miles from the somewhat staid gentility portrayed during the town's annual Victorian Festival. It comes from G. W. Gibson's memoir "Llandrindod in the 'Nineties" published in the 1945 RadnorshireSociety Transactions:

...political feelings ran high in Radnorshire in the late 'nineties and the early nineteen-hundreds, and practically everybody in Llandrindod was either a keen Tory or Radical. I well remember the Parliamentary Election of 1902, when Sir Francis Edwards was returned as Member for the county. He came to Llandrindod on the evening of the day after the election, and was met at the station by a crowd of his supporters with an open carriage, to which ropes were attached, and pulled up to the Victoria Hall. An equally big crowd of Conservatives was waiting in Middleton Street, and as soon as the carriage stopped it was assailed with a shower of eggs. Sir Francis, who was sitting inside the carriage, immediately hopped out and up the steps into the Victoria Arcade, but Alderman Evan Bufton, who was on the box-seat, could not get down so quickly, and he became the target for most of the eggs. It was said afterwards that when he got home to Brynteg he had to be soaked in the bath before he could get his shirt off.

As soon as the egg throwers had got rid of their missiles, Sir Francis tried to address the crowd from the little balcony that used to stick out in front of the Victoria Hall, but a group of Tories hoisted a Union Jack and started singing a patriotic song. Among them Mr Jack Lewis, the butcher, then living at Gordon House, one or two of the Swettenham boys, and a very tall man who was working in the town at the time. A party of Radicals, led by Mr. John Williams, then residing at "Craig-y-Nos," Craig Road, made a dash for the flag, and there was a fierce melee in which many blows were struck. Eventually, the flag-staff was broken, the flag hauled down and set on fire in the middle of the street. Next day, the Conservative newspapers of South Wales carried big headlines: "Radicals Burn the Union Jack at Llandrindod Wells."

Thanks to Domhnall Ó Murchadha for bringing this to my attention.

Flying the Flag for Wales, Jack Lewis

After a race long struggle with Rodriguez in the works Ferrari Jack Lewis, at the wheel of his Ecurie Gallois BRM, settles for third place in the 1962 Pau Grand Prix. The red dragon is clearly visible by the car number (see photo)

Today Lewis is one of the forgotten men of Formula One, but in the early Sixties his driving of the privately entered Coopers marked him as one of the smoothest and most promising racers on the grid.

A fourth place in the 1961 Italian Grand Prix encouraged Lewis to purchase an ex-works BRM for the 1962 season. Disillusion set in as the car was suspiciously underpowered. At the Monaco Grand Prix young Jack equalled the practice time of the works BRM driver Ginther, only to be excluded from the race to make way for slower but better known competitors. The car was returned to BRM who reimbursed the £7000 selling price and Lewis had to compete for the rest of the season in his tired old 1960 Cooper.

At the end of the 1962 season Lewis retired from the sport to farm near Llandovery, he was still only 25 years old.

Jack Lewis's F1 and F2 record

1959

Lavant Cup, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 11th
British Empire Trophy, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 14th
Aintree 200, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 7th
Prix de Paris, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 1st
GP de Pau, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 7th
Coupe de Vitesse, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 10th
GP de Rouen, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), accident
Trophee d'Auvergne, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 8th
Kentish 100, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), did not qualify
Coupe de Salon, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 2nd

1960
Oulton Park Trophy, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), accident
GP de Bruxelles, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 8th
GP de Pau, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), not classified
Aintree 200, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 12th
Prix de Paris, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 2nd
GP des Frontieres, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 1st
Solituderennen, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), retired
German GP, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), disqualified
Vanwall Trophy, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 2nd
Kentish 100, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 7th
Lombank Trophy, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 1st in class (6th overall)
Coupe de Salon, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 1st
Lewis Evans Trophy, Cooper T45-Climax (F2), 2nd

1961
GP de Pau, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 5th
GP de Bruxelles,Cooper T53-Climax (F1), excluded
Aintree 200, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 8th
London Trophy, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 7th
Silver City Trophy, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), retired
Belgian GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 9th
French GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), retired
British GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), retired
German GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 9th
Modena GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), did not qualify
Italian GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 4th
Oulton Park Gold Cup, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), retired

1962
GP de Pau, BRM (F1), 3rd
International Trophy, BRM (F1), 9th
Dutch GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 8th
Monaco GP, BRM (F1), excluded
GP de Reims, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 10th
French GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), accident
British GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 10th
German GP, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), 10th
Oulton Park Gold Cup, Cooper T53-Climax (F1), retired

Parry Thomas

Parry Thomas, a sketch by Algernon Rowe

Welsh Success at Le Mans, 1931

Tim Rose-Richards and Owen Saunders-Davies (right), celebrate their third place at the 1931 Le Mans Twenty Four Hour race.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 14

This poem illustrates some of the social functions of the bard: as genealogist, herald, soothsayer and political agitator. The academics, who don't know much about Radnorshire, place Dafydd's home in the parish of Llanbadarn Fynydd although it is obvious from this poem that he lived in the Fron district of Llanbadarn Fawr. Dafydd held the castle of Stapleton near Presteigne after the battle of Mortimer's Cross in 1461.


No. 174 Praise to Dafydd Goch

You are privileged and of noble blood,
Baron of Stapleton, good evening!
Dafydd Goch, God protects
And James creates calm about you.

You are a son of Maredudd
Who brings me profit, a grandson of Adam,
Son of Madog, from his dwelling,
Son of Adam, hawk of the wide earth,
Son of Rhys, that generous apple of paradise,
Son of Ifor, his inheritance still lives,
Son of Gruffydd, with his ruddle stallions,
Son of Ieuan you are, none better,
Son of Ifor, songster of the sweet wine,
Son of Philip, with the five war colts,
Son of Einion, the heart of the Wye shore,
From a kindred from Uwch Conwy,
Son of Llywarch, respected to the grave,
Son of Bran, an emperor of Gwynedd,
Son of Dinawal of the province,
Son of Einudd, a high earl of the nation,
Son of Aelaw, who was in Aberffraw,
Son of Alser the unrefused,
Son of Tudwal, like the men of Maelor,
From the land of Anglesey, son of Rhodri Mawr.

From the highest nobility, Dafydd,
You are a shoot, as talented as Nudd.
You are the finest in terms of pedigree
From Anglesey to the land of Menevia.
And I am over Cymaron
In your house, high on the Fron,
Calculating, by the little clock,
Your hours and your four lines of descent.
I prophesied an Englishman without office
And an evident castle for you, lord,
And a fair tower and houses,
And a barony and its privileges.
A Taliesin to an Elphin
I’ve become, as I grow, for you Dafydd;
Like Adda Fras to the realm
Of Llywelyn, protector of our nation;
Like Meugant, when he played on his pipes
A fine speech for Gwrtheyrn;
When I divine, I’m like Myrddin,
You are an Emrys in the March.
At two feasts, Iolo said,
He was his lord’s bard,
“Good teeth without a tongue, the day will come,
A clumsiness in the recess of the mouth.”
You have good teeth without a tongue,
So I would be it with my lip.
Dafydd the talent will be reflective,
It will be a remembrancer, it will be just,
It will be silent and do much,
Hurry to all to give a spur.
Raise your banner Dafydd,
For Mary, carry the day for Wales!
A lion with the three ravens of
Llywarch Ap Bran, respected by all,
Your three ravens have a silver field
And a black chevron like the chapel of Dewi.
Your ancestors had a privileged place,
The privilege of the holding of three ravens,
The most loved birds
In all of prophesy are the ravens.
It will go well for you, no worse,
For three ravens, to turn into a barony.
You are the baron of the ravens,
You’ll have an ancient earldom from a fair man.