A Forgotten War

The Sixties are supposed to have been a time of khaftans and flower power, but in Radnorshire the whiff of high explosives impacted more on the senses than cannabis.

Nowadays the bombing campaign against the Elan Valley pipeline has been largely forgotten or dismissed as part of the comic-book saga of the Free Wales Army. In reality it was a serious business, as this photograph of the results of an attack at West Hagley in 1968 shows. This after all was the main water supply to England's second city and followed less successful bombings within Radnorshire itself, at Nantmel and Crossgates.

Reading through old newspaper reports it comes as something of a surprise to discover that two convicted Welsh bombers were suspected of having learnt how to assembly their devices at a farm in Llandegle. Was Llandegle really such a hot bed of physical force nationalism, or was this an example of the activities of that familiar figure on the Sixties scene, the agent provocateur?

UPDATE

An earlier threat to the pipeline came during the IRA's futile mainland campaign of 1939. In January of that year the Birmingham Evening Dispatch received the following message from the bombers:

"WARNING: London, Manchester and Liverpool; Battersea, Rhyadder and Coventry are next, and there will be no mistakes next time."

Over 300 explosions occurred during the campaign but thankfully the Bwgyites remained untouched, perhaps the IRA's inability to spell the name of the town meant they failed to find it on the map.

Are They Mad?

According to the Guardian, Llandrindod Wells was recently named the best place to party in the whole of Britain. OK I know you don't believe me but here's the link. That must rate right-up alongside Llanwrtyd's bog-snorkelling championship being voted in the ten best events in the world. Any chance of Rhayader being the next European Capital of Culture?

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 44

This is a translation of a run of the mill praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi addressed to Bedo Chwith and his wife Gwenllian vz Gwilym of Bryn Pennardd, Cregrina. Bedo belonged to that sub-clan of the tribe of Rhys ap Tewdwr descended from Meilyr O Ddiserth. The poem was probably composed for a feast to celebrate David, the patron saint of Cregrina, it exhibits the usual bardic obsession with bonedd (descent) and the obligations (perchentyaeth) that this placed on the chieftain towards the wider community.

No 151, Praise of Bedo Chwith and Gwenllian vz Gwilym

The stag like Ifor Hael,
A great spending in Elfael,
Oh my, is Bedo Chwith
Not the shoot of the wheat?
He is one growth with Dafydd,
He'll be one mettle with Hywel,
One foundation, one body with Meilyr,
One look, one height, one long spear,
One dart with Ricart and Rhys,
One face throughout the fair island.

He has, as he pours mead,
Two names, they are not the same,
By Mary, he is Maredudd,
But he's Bedo to the world.
John the Baptist had
Two names for a single man:
He was John and Ioannes,
Names for a host that he benefited
A famous man lives in Cregrina,
And there he bears two good names.

Bedo it is who labours my hand,
A long life to him,
On it is placed from one share,
Three ploughs of silver,
And behind them the men sow,
A swarm of golden seed.
Golden reals were sown,
On the chosen men of fair Arthur.
The bright gold of Cologne,
Was given to Holy Mary.
Many men have placed fine gold
Upon the great image of Dublin;
And it is an honour for a poet
To be gilded by some man.
The grandson of Meilyr, with yellow gold,
Has gilded the fists of many folk.
His gift of gold from his right hand,
Gilded me at the feast of Dewi.
Gwenllian, on Dewi's feast night,
Gives food to the world, she shares
Tomorrow, the day after, the day after that,
Three days hence, more and more shalll come.
The hand of Gwilym ap Llywelyn,
Who was her father, did the same;
The hand of the girl from Malläen
Grinds out gold in fair Elafel.
The same girl who shares the mead
Is of an exalted line from Gwynedd;
Sir Gruffydd Llwyd was the lion,
Truly he was gilded;
Truly she with the great bearing
Of his hand, signals the feast.

She and Bedo, throughout the world,
Have been one word for some time.
Bedo and she are generous,
They are not enfeebled by meanness.
He has had a good share of wealth,
She is good, He is wise,
For him, good, for her two lives,
An age for her, a lifetime for him,
May sickness never visit her,
Let age come to his brow.

Holidays From Hell

Even in the pre-digital age bad publicity travelled fast, as this cutting from an 1873 New Zealand newspaper shows.

Nothing in the Papers

With more and more newspaper archives being digitalised, a few happy minutes can be passed searching out long-forgotten stories from Radnorshire's past.

Who, except perhaps in Ireland, now remembers this once prominent politician and his pride in his Llanbister forebears.

Has there ever been a more newsworthy road traffic accident on a Radnorshire road than that which occurred on August 8th 1906 when the Bishop of London's car was in collision with that of Prince Arthur, the Duke of Connaught.

Finally, does anyone still recall the heroic cycle ride of Miss Constance Clifton-Mogg of Brynwern Hall, through the great storm of 4th May 1904 - and yes they did have storms in pre-global warming days. Hearing an unusual noise, and with the aid of field glasses, Miss Mogg saw that the Builth-Newbridge railway line had been been swept away by a landslip. Mounting her bicycle Constance rode through the tempest and arrived at Newbridge station just as the Builth train was about to leave. A disaster was averted and the grateful directors of the Cambrian Railway presented the gallant lady with a silver tray. A Lady's Promptitude, the headline in the paper declared. Promptitude, now there's a word you're unlikely to read on the front page of the Daily Bugle any time soon.

An Early Sporting Motorist from Mid Wales

We mentioned Maud Manville a few posts below, but another Welsh competitor who competed on the Continent in the 1906 six day Herkomer Cup was Captain David Hughes Morgan of Talgarth in Breconshire. Hughes Morgan seems to have been a prominent pioneer in the early days of Welsh motor sport, you can check out a couple of his hillclimbing successes here. In 1907 he was competing against S F Edge in Cardiff Motor Club's first Caerphilly hillclimb event and in 1909 his Humber was leading the way in the Pendine beach races.

Does anyone know if Hughes Morgan later found fame as Sir David Hughes Morgan, publisher of the Western Mail and Echo? Although, unfortunately, not enough fame to find a place in the chapel obsessed pages of the Dictionary of Welsh Biography.

Trials and Tribulations of a Blogger

There's no point in regurgitating stuff that's readily available elsewhere on the web, which is why I try to go back to original sources in order to find fresh information for the posts on this blog.

Take Esme Stewart for example, there was a brief reference in Boddy's Brooklands book but otherwise nothing at all, even on the forums which occasionally interest themselves in motor sport's dim and distant past.

Esme's claim to fame was that in 1910 she attempted to break Felice Nazarro's 1908 Brooklands lap of 121.64 mph driving the same car in which he set the record, the frightening 18 litre Fiat Mephistopholes (see photo). Esme failed, but, hey, can you imagine driving such a beast at over 100 mph on the bumpy Brooklands banking?

Anyway reference to various online public records and newspaper archives soon identified that she was born in Scotland in 1887 and that she later married car manufacturer Noel Macklin, father of the similarly named 1950s racer and Stirling Moss team-mate. It turned out that Esme divorced Mr Macklin and that young Noel was the product of a second marriage.

How frustrating then to discover a copy of the November 1994 edition of The Automobile advertised on Ebay promising an in-depth article on Miss Stewart. There it was, my original research and "discovery" turned out to be common knowledge, although knowledge that hadn't, at the time, made it on to the internet.

Bardic Sign Language

There's plenty of evidence to show that the old Welsh bards had a sign language. No doubt this was useful in communicating information in the crowded great halls and taverns the bards frequented, it would have fitted in well with the esoteric nature of much of bardic learning.

Sion Ceri, the sixteenth century bard who operated a good deal in and around Radnorshire, has a poem in which he describes this bardic sign language. Rather than finger signing it is mainly based on touching various parts of the face and upper body. Here are a few examples:

A - thumb up, C - cheek, E - the eye, F - the wrist, FF - two fingers on the wrist, O - forehead T - the nose, Y - the elbow

Maud Manville, an Early Sporting Motorist from Wales.

Maud Elizabeth Wallis (1872-1909) was born in Newport, Monmouthshire, the daughter of a wealthy East India merchant. In 1894 she married Edward Manville, later Sir Edward and chairman of the Daimler Motor Company.

In 1905 Mrs Manville competed in the Brighton Speed Trials in one of her husband's cars, winning the scratch race for 35 horse power Daimlers from Scott Montague. Later that year Maud was on the Continent participating in the Six Day Herkomer race, an event in which she also appeared in 1906.

The Times report of the 1906 event noted that Mrs Manville "the only lady in the competition, was loudly cheered and presented with a bouquet of roses. The only accident", the Thunderer continued, "happened to a Berlin car, which ran over and killed a peasant near Melk." Lucky Maud, unlucky peasant.

I'll Have a Pint of That

This letter appeared in the November 1965 issue of Motor Sport. I guess it was probably in reply to some comment that modern day drivers were pretty wishy washy in comparison with the racers of yore ...... a fairly regular theme even today.

Laid Back

Look, I seem to get a lot of comments when I post about sculpture, so when regular reader Plwm sent me this flyer vip invitation card, well I felt it just had to be posted here.

Banished From Builth

With the promised inner-gateway public sculpture eagerly awaited by the art loving citizens of Llandrindod, it would be as well to remember the fate of this statue commemorating that fine Breconshire poet Harri Jones.

Once it graced the main thoroughfare of Builth Wells until scorned and emasculated by the perspicacious Wyesiders it was finally forced to retreat to the grounds of a Llangammarch hotel.

Bill Sheen

Radnorshire must reluctantly lay claim to one of Nineteenth Century London's most notorious criminals, Bill Sheen, a man who must surely have been one of the models for Dickens' Bill Sikes.

Sheen came to prominence in 1827 when he cut off the head of his girlfriend's infant son. Fleeing from Whitechapel to Radnorshire he was tracked by a London constable, Robert Davis, to Penybont and eventually taken at the nearby home of a relative, Lane House, Llanbadarn Fawr.

You can read a report of Sheen's first trial here, He was found not guilty on a technicality, a confusion over the actual name of the murdered child. A second trial was held and Sheen was again acquited on the grounds that you could not be tried twice for the same crime.

This stroke of good fortune did not induce Sheen to follow the straight and narrow. By now something of a minor celebrity, his assaults and burglaries were widely reported in the press. A girlfriend, one Mary Anne Sullivan's throat was cut and she was left for dead after being brutally kicked, Sheen was jailed for two years. Perhaps the clearest evidence that Sheen may have been the model for Sikes comes from the fact that he kept brothels in Spitalfields which were also home to between 30 and 40 boys and girls, some aged as young as nine, who spent their days begging and thieving throughout the city. Read about them here, pages 149 and 150.

Harmonious St Harmon

A couple of months ago I posted about Radnorshire songbird Maralene Powell. A blogger asked about her current whereabouts and now I see he's posted a review online of Maralene and the Four Ps album "Just For You", see it here.

Now leaving aside whether the falsetto in Maralene's voice is a good thing or a bad thing, the really interesting information here is on the transcribed sleeve note. Maralene recorded an EP for Cambrian Records with Gareth Edwards, yes that Gareth Edwards!

Book of the Month

This isn't a new book, it was published in 2004, but it's a book I wish I had read forty years ago and qualifies as my book of the decade, never mind book of the month.

Why Spain and the International Brigade should have such a hold on the Welsh Left is something of a puzzle. Only a handful of the 150 or so Welsh Brigaders belonged to the Labour Party, the overwhelming majority were Communists. Apart from a sympathy with the Basques and Catalans, Plaid Cymru pursued a neutral policy during the Spanish Civil War, indeed one or two of it's leaders were pro-Franco, at least in private. Yet today both Labour and Plaid laud the Brigaders as if they were secular saints. Pacifists, too, cherish the militants, seemingly oblivious to the dreadful atrocities committed by some of the supporters of the Spanish Republic, mainly against priests and nuns. A puzzle.

Rob Stradling's book is the product of deep academic research, yet at the same time it is highly readable. Unlike Hywel Francis' influential but hagiographic Miners Against Fascism, Stradling tells it like it was. Here we read about the desertions and the probable executions of Welsh Brigaders. The driven commissar Billy Griffiths is the Rhondda's own Yezhov, happily pressing for the death sentence on his "butty" the tragic Alex Cummings. No wonder Griffiths' memoirs remain unpublished by an academic establishment who prefer to see things as they should have been, not as they were.

Hundreds of thousands of Welsh men and women fought on the side of democracy against fascism in the Second World War, and they rather than the Stalinists of the International Brigade deserve our unqualified admiration. It's said that Billy Griffiths found religion in later life, yet the truth is that his Communism was just as much a religion as anything found in a chapel. Maybe that is the answer to our puzzle, the continuing religiosity of many on the Left.

A Radnorshire connection? Nothing obvious so far ........ a motor sport connection? Well the memorial to the 34 Welsh International Brigaders killed in Spain was placed at the South Wales Miners Library in Hendrefoilan House, Swansea, the boyhood home of that "best type of amateur competitor" Sir Clive Edwards.

I'm a Celebrity

Following Ireland's twice in one day victories over Moss at Goodwood on 18th April 1960, see the Pathe newsreel of the race here and click view story, half of Fleet Street descended on New Radnor - no doubt the local publicans were glad to see them.

In this Autosport cover shot - by the way it's from the Formula 2 race - Innes still sports his old helmet, the familiar chequerboard design wouldn't appear until the Silverstone International Trophy meeting on 14th May.

Wanted

If you're one of our regular readers and there are getting on for 200 who check in at least once a week, then there has to be a chance that one or two of you are interested in the life and times of Innes Ireland.

I've already posted that author Ed McDonough is hoping to publish an edition of Innes's journalism with a second and maybe even a third volume to follow. I understand that the first volume will be published in the early summer but that photographs are still needed for subsequent volumes.

Of course sourcing photographs from the agencies is an expensive business, just one colour photo for the German translation of All Arms and Elbows cost $500 back in 2001, and that for a book with a print-run of just 500 copies. Those kind of prices mean that a lot of potentially useful books never see the light of day.

Anyway Dear Reader if you have any photographs of Innes and you own the copyright why not get in touch with Ed. He's already left his email address in a comment, so I hope he won't mind me giving it again: edmcd@btopenworld.com

Around the Lake

I've discussed might have been racing circuits in Radnorshire before, here. An anonymous poster even mentioned that TT rider Malcolm Uphill had assessed the possiblity of a track around Llandod Lake. Now a new fan of the blog sends me this cutting, from the December 1963 issue of Motor Cyclist Illustrated.

I guess it dates back to a time when the local council actually wanted to do something positive for the town.

Llandrindod's Inner Gateway

Who knew that Llandrindod had an Inner Gateway. I've always thought of it as a Victorian town but Powys County Council must have discovered some medieval town walls because they're ready to mark that inner gateway with some exciting new works of art. Phillipa Lawrence, see her work here and Tony Stallard, here, are the artists who are going to put Llandod on the map with works of "national importance".

Councillor David Peter urges the townsfolk to get involved. Well I'm not from Llandrindod but I'm certainly one of the County's long-suffering council tax payers, so here goes. The main argument used in favour of these works of art, at least when talking down to us philistines, seems to be bringing tourists into the town. OK, why not go for something big and vandal proof like the Giant Merino (pictured) .... maybe, given the town's sporting history, a couple of giant bowls ... one black one, one white one.

More from the Summer of '62

Still August 1962 and future Grand Prix racer Brian Redman takes his Morgan through Woodcote in that year's Six Hour Relay, before handing over to Builth Wells driver .... I'll repeat that for effect Builth Wells driver ... Bob Duggan.

The Morgan team covered 298 laps and finished a close second.

Apologies

Apologies to regular readers of this blog for the lack of posts recently, it's due to connection problems. Anyway in the meantime here's a picture of Miss Enid Riddell - Le Mans racer and Nazi sympathiser - standing next to a fat bloke with a Hitler moustache.

Jack Turner

Interested in Welsh sports and racing car manufacturer Jack Turner? You could do worse than read this on ebay. If there's a record for the most informative ebay item description this must be in the running! I guess it will only be up for the next week but well worth reading in the meantime.

By the way I notice that I've overlooked some requests for information that have come-up in the comments sections of various posts. Apologies. I'll switch on the function that emails me when comments are placed on the site.

Crockett, the Lion-Conqueror

James Crockett, the Lion-conqueror was born around 1831 in Presteigne, the son of a circus musician and the 6'9'' Miss Cross, the Nottinghamshire giantess. His Radnorshire birthplace is confirmed in the 1851 census as well as in contemporary newspaper reports.

At first Crockett followed his father's profession by playing in the band of Sanger's Circus, but weakened lungs saw him take on the role of lion-tamer. In 1861 Crockett shot to fame when his lions escaped into Astleys Amphitheatre, killing a young lad in the process. Armed only with a whip the lion-conqueror succeeded in returning the beasts to their cage.

Having played in Paris, Berlin, Vienna and St Petersburg, Crockett crossed the Atlantic to the United States in 1864 and it was there the following year that he died. The Lion-Conqueror dropped dead after having spent the morning riding in a 4th of July procession in Cincinnati wearing a tin helmet inspite of the intense heat.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 43

It seems ages since I posted a translation of a bardic poem addressed to a patron in what became Radnorshire. I haven't run out there are dozens more to come I'm afraid! This is one of Lewis Glyn Cothi's praise poems addressed to Ieuan ap Llywelyn of Crug Eryr, Llanfihangel Nant Melan and his wife Edudful vz Maredudd. Clud by the way is the Welsh name for Radnor Forest, metheglin was a spirit made from honey.

Poem 167, Praise of Ieuan ap Llywelyn and Edudful vz Maredudd.

In Nant Melan there is a hearth
Within the palace of a fair, cheerful prince;
God's blessings to the wise goodman,
Good day to a wise and gentle goodwoman:
Light, bright, swift Ieuan,
His name and his claim are under Clud;
Edudful with her dark blond husband
Fill all with food and drink.
Land and fire cannot be mentioned
Except in the context of the swan of Nant Melan,
And Edudful's diligent bard
Has called her "a second Sunday".
Llywelyn Fychan like Ilar,
Was twice as strong as an oak;
Ieuan, his son, possesses
The same strength and quality.
Maredudd Fychan, the best in Britain,
Generous, of the main line of old Noah;
Edudful, his daughter, came
With his hand and his greeting.

If over Maesyfaidd, Iefan
Has the status of Joachim and his roots,
Then every Sunday Edudful is
Like an Anna in Maelienydd.
A wife and husband in pure white fur
Who give their gold, these two,
Who give alms to the poor,
Who feed ale to this province.
Every day, every night, he is
Before the table of the wise folk,
Foods, vegetables in summer,
Butter, soups in the winter,
Metheglin from the bees of the woodland,
The first drawing of the Weobley ale,
This is the court that is
Full of the nine joys,
People of good humour,
A hundred there, or more.
Their two sons, by the Sacrifice!
Will become one increase and power;
Gwilym and Rhys are two columns,
The strong roots of the tree of paradise,
The two shoots fill the earth,
And wise Ieuan is the old oak.
His children both grow
On the ancient vine of Nannau;
One is a post in Llanbister,
A yew tree that keeps his word,
The other is the pillar of Crug Eryr,
That grows like a fir tree.
Two roots from the grandfather's cot
Who count the gold of the Iforites,
Two princes of Bran's royal blood,
Two green oaks of the wood of Elystan
Two sons like Gradifael,
Truly Jesus will form them.

Good health to the mother and father, amen,
Were old Noah indeed healthy,
Were any one of their land old,
Gwilym and Rhys will live as long.

Gentlemen, Start Your Engines

It's 1959 and the London-Devon Rally is hardly one of the major events in the calendar, but yes, the organisers have somehow persuaded Miss Jayne Mansfield to flag the cars away. Could have got hold of a bigger flag though.

Llandrindod Uncovered

What to say about this book about growing up and living in Llandrindod Wells in the 1950s and beyond? It isn't well written but it is certainly a page turner and the rhymes, while giving McGonagall a run for his money, usually have something interesting to say.

Mr Roberts certainly doesn't echo the words of the Reverend Eli Jenkins' prayer, he seems to prefer to see the worst side rather than the best in quite a few of those who cross his path. The book can seem cruel and thoughtless, only the author's opinions appear to count, with little or no regard for the feelings of others. It has all the fascination of the gossip column and will no doubt prove a gold-mine for local historians in year's to come.

Growing up around the same time as the author and living not a million miles from Llandrindod Wells, I recognize quite a few of the characters who populate this book. Somehow, I never got to meet Ken Roberts and on the evidence of No Stamps in My Passport that's a fact for which I am fairly grateful. A book that is well worth buying and reading, although some may wish to contact a solicitor after doing so..

A Film Show

I'm afraid I blame most of societies present day ills on a combination of project work in primary schools and the malign unforeseen consequences of Jeremy Sandford's influential television programme Cathy Come Home. The later helped create our social problems while the former means that no-one will ever get around to actually doing something to cure them. Whatever, it was interesting to read Jeremy's account of a film show held in New Radnor in the house of local doctor and amateur film-maker Dick Jobson. It's quite a long piece but you can read it here. One of those in attendance was "racing motorist" Innes Ireland who turned up in a Ferrari. In all probability this was the Ferrari 250 GTO in which he won the 1962 Tourist Trophy. Innes quite often used this as a road-car, indeed his wife used it to do her shopping.

Book of the Month

Yet another worthwhile book from the excellent Herefordshire publisher Logaston, please check here for details.

One of the most annoying things about the many films and television series about Elizabeth Tudor is the way in which they nearly always deny the presence of English regional accents at the Queen's court. Despite the historical inaccuracy everyone is shown as speaking with Received Pronunciation, indeed there was a controversy in the press a few years ago when Mary Queen of Scots was played by a Frenchwoman. A few critics couldn't bear the fact that the actress did not speak RP, even though the historical Mary spoke French and Scots.

These films and television series also exclude the many Welsh speaking individuals at the court of a Queen the historian A. L. Rowse described as a "red-haired Welsh harridan." Not the least among them was Blanche Parry, the Chief Gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber, the Queen's companion and confidante for 56 years.

It says a lot about the relationship between Wales and England that this is one of the few English penned books to use Welsh bardic sources to illuminate the history of the period. The author has had nine bardic poems translated and two are quoted in full in the book. It will no doubt come as a surprise to many to learn that Herefordshire south of the Wye - Blanche Parry was from the parish of Bacton - was Welsh in speech in the sixteenth century and beyond; and that the gentry of the area were such great supporters of the bardic tradition.

Many Welsh readers are, of course, aware of all of this, but it is rare indeed see an English book using bardic poems as source material. In the same way it is rare to see a book from Herefordshire that recognizes the Welsh character of large parts of that county.

Grand Prix Wives, 5

A long time since I added the names of any drivers wives from Motor Racing's dangerous years, so here are a few more. Dorine Dutoya was the wife of Willy Mairesse, and another great Belgian driver Oliver Gendebien was married to Marie-Claire Ango de Flers. Of course Helen McGregor was and still is married to Jackie Stewart, while Loti Lucas, who was married to Chris Irwin, still posts regularly on the TNF forum.

No-one seems very interested in these women other than on the usual babe front. Time moves on and I guess it is unlikely that their story is ever going to be told, a shame really as it would have made a change from the rivet counting that makes up so much of motor racing history. In many ways it was a tragic story with so many of these girls being widowed or divorced in more tranquil times after the stressful years of racing had ended.

Might Have Been Team

Although Alf Francis' book Racing Mechanic 1948-58 is generally considered to be one of the classics of Motor Racing literature, the Polish born spannerman himself is a figure of some controversy. To many he is one of the great characters of post-war racing, an intuitive engineer and someone whose hard work and determination kept the Rob Walker team on the road. For others he was "a mechanic with ambitions above his station" whose lash-ups were responsible for Moss's career ending 1962 crash.

In any case by the mid-60s Alf had removed himself to Modena where he went into partnership with Italian transmission specialist Valerio Colotti. For the 1965 season Ecurie Alf Francis purchased the old BRP transporter and two Cooper T72's with the intention of competing in the recently revived Formula 2 category. With Colotti transmission and an Alfa Romeo engine developed by Giancarlo Rebecchi, it was announced that the cars would be driven by Innes Ireland, Jo Siffert and a young Frenchman, Bernard Plaisance.

Innes and Siffert were listed to compete at the Oulton Park Spring Trophy meeting in early April but the cars failed to appear. This was to be the story for the rest of the year, non-attendance, non-qualification and just a couple of starts for Siffert and Plaisance. A 10th place for Seppi in the Pergusa Grand Prix, a circuit where a week later the Swiss driver would beat Clark in a closely fought Formula One race, was the only finish that Alf's team could manage.

Innes Ireland never got to turn a wheel in anger in the revived Formula 2 races of the mid and late Sixties. Alf Francis had flourished in the buccaneering 1950s but in the more technical atmosphere of the 1960s his time had passed.

"He will let his bleeding heart run away with his bloody head!"

George Lansbury (1859-1940) MP for Bow and Bromley was the leader of the Labour Party between 1932 and 1935 and like Nye Bevan - although see below - his maternal roots are to be found in Radnorshire.

In Lansbury's case his mother Mary Ann Ferries was born and raised in a cottage called Dolly Dingle in the parish of Clyro, the daughter of a Gloucestershire born mole catcher Moses and his locally born wife Catherine Jenkins. The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography is wrong, by the way, to think that Mary Ann's father was called James. Perhaps the variant spellings of the surname in various records, Ferris and Ferriers as well as Ferries, has confused searchers.

Lansbury was the grandfather of actress Angela Lansbury and also of the animator Oliver Postgate, creator of the Clangers ( see photo)

Footnote I believe it was the Michael Foot biography which claimed that Aneurin Bevan's English speaking mother Phoebe Protheroe came from Radnorshire. In reality she was born in Tredegar. Her blacksmith father did however come from that part of the parish of Glasbury that lay south of the river Wye. Up until 1832 this was indeed part of Radnorshire, although after that date it was transferred to Breconshire. As Phoebe's father was born around 1818, he at least was a Radnorian.

"As black a traitor as if he had been born in Builth"

Let me hasten to explain that it was the Victorian novelist Mrs Gaskell and not myself who slandered the good folk of Builth with the quotation that heads this post.

In any case let us rescue another son of Radnorshire from any association, however unfair, with Bradwyr Buellt. According to wikipedia David Milwyn Duggan (pictured), leader of the Conservative Party of Alberta and mayor of the city of Edmonton was born in Builth in 1879. In actual fact Duggan was born and raised at Hundred House Mill, in the parish of Llansantffraid yn Elfael, Radnorshire.

Caesar Jenkyns

I suppose it's understandable that the little Breconshire town of Builth Wells would want to claim former Wesh soccer International and captain of Woolwich Arsenal Caesar Augustus Llewellyn Jenkyns as one of their own, but is it true?

The census returns tell a different story, as this son of a policeman in the old Radnorshire Constabulary seems actually to have been born in the village of Boughrood, which is, of course, on the correct side of the river Wye.

By the way if you think Caesar Augustus was an unusual name, his younger, Cwmteuddwr born brother, was called Plato.

Sin and Other Matters

The Rhayader boy who supposedly disappeared into thin air is a reminder of an Australian version of the tale which was the inspiration for Picnic at Hanging Rock. The film, of course, starred Llanelli Baptist minister's daughter Rachel Roberts. There's a recent post about Rachel on that interesting Cardiff blog Babylon Wales, read it here.

Anyway here's the local connection: back in the late 1940s, while she was attending Aberystwyth University, Rachel shared a house in Borth with, amongst others, a fellow student, Llanafan born poet, T Harri Jones. Someone really should make a film about that seaside house. Rachel's sexual and chemical excesses were such that the Swinging Sixties really took off in Borth in the 1940's.

The Strange Case of Oliver Thomas

I remember reading about this in some pot-boiler back in the 60s and it's interesting to see that it's still being pedalled around the internet. Briefly the story goes as follows:

On Christmas Eve, 1909, an 11-year-old lad called Oliver Thomas of Rhayader went outside to fetch water from the well. His family heard him screaming for help but when they went to look for him he could not be found, although his footprints in the snow could be seen ending halfway to the well. In a nice twist the boy continued to be heard sobbing for a number of days, although he had disappeared, without trace, into thin air.

It seems that this story is a version of another tall tale, the disappearance of Oliver Larch. I guess if you are going to concoct a story of the supernatural it's best to set it somewhere slightly weird and out of the way, no doubt Rhayader fitted the bill admirably.

Sir Chicken

Innes Ireland gets a mention in today's Sunday Times interview with Jackie Stewart:

"The attitude of some drivers was even more curious. Innes Ireland, the first Scot to win an F1 grand prix, regarded Stewart as a “chicken”. The Belgian driver Jacky Ickx was another opposed to change. “Innes was a real brave guy,” Stewart recalls. “He’d had some terrible accidents and survived, but I think he regarded it as part of the culture. Jacky didn’t much like the ideal either . . . he wanted to uphold the purity of it."

As it happens Innes had a very high opinion of Stewart's ability as a racing driver, better than Clark and the nearest thing to Moss amongst all those that he had raced against. Jackie, of course, epitomised the new businesslike attitude to motor sport which Innes detested; Ireland tells the tale of a young compatriot, new to Formula One, who invites him out to dinner in order to ask his advice. Innes is flattered, only to find that the advice sought is not about racing but about contracts, sponsorship and the like.

Ireland's views on safety were pretty antediluvian, even for the 1960s, for example he described safety belts as hysterical and mocked the fact that Jackie had his blood-group stiched into his underpants. About one thing Innes was surely correct and that was the fact that so much of the culture, the mystique of Grand Prix racing was based on danger and death. Even in 2007 it is this romanticising of death which permeates the interview with Stewart.

Frank O'Boyle

Back in the late 1930s Frank O’Boyle must have been the leading racing driver in the Irish Free State, his Alta Voiturette competing against the likes of Bira, Mays, de Graffenreid and Villoresi. O’Boyle’s car was maintained by the Evans family’s Bellevue Garage in London but Frank never once accompanied the machine when it was sent to and fro across the Irish sea; that task usually falling to Bellevue’s chief mechanic, the legendary Wilkie Wilkinson. The reasons for O’Boyle’s reluctance to leave Ireland have been hinted at, some trouble with the English authorities that may have occasioned a spell in jail. Here‘s some more detail.

O’Boyle was born around the end of the 1890s but by the summer of 1920, it seems, he was already the owner of a garage in County Tyrone. In September of that year he took part in a payroll ambush in which a driver, William McDowell was shot dead. The raiders getting away with the not inconsiderable sum of £1300. O’Boyle and two companions were soon arrested and after a jury trial failed to reach a verdict they were sentenced to life imprisonment by a military court martial.

One night in May 1927 O’Boyle, together with his companions from the payroll robbery, overpowered two prison guards at Belfast’s Crumlin Road jail, making their escape in a waiting motor car which was driven at great speed through the early morning Belfast streets. By 1929 Frank O’Boyle had been re-arrested by the authorities in the Free State for extradition back to the North. Dublin’s High Court disagreed and decided that it was unconstitutional to return a man who had been sentenced by a military tribunal, O’Boyle was free as long, of course, as he did not set foot on British soil.

What became of O’Boyle I don't know, he must have been well respected by the Irish motor racing crowd, a Frank O’Boyle Trophy race was held at the Curragh after the war, Stirling Moss even won it in 1951. The Alta was at the Bellevue Garage when war was declared in 1939 and could not be returned to Ireland, it was eventually sold back to the company for £250. Was O’Boyle a member of the IRA? He certainly claimed he was a political prisoner, although the British courts insisted he was a common criminal.

Taffy was a ...... well an Englishman actually

I've blogged rather a lot about that talented young Welsh Grand Prix driver of the early sixties, Jack Lewis. Now a Motor Sport interview with the man himself confirms what some of us have long suspected, Jack isn't Welsh. It seems that a Welsh surname and the promise of sponsorship from a Welsh firm - it never arrived - prompted the Ecurie Gallois renaming of Jack's H&L Motors team. Still, the sight of Jack's red dragon emblazoned BRM will always be a part of Grand Prix history.

Son of the Salt

This rather wonderful cigarette card shows Ab Jenkins' Mormon Meteor record breaker out on Utah's Bonneville Salt Flats. As well as breaking more world records than any other man in the history of sport David Abbot Jenkins - his father was from Merthyr Tydfil and his mother from Pembrokeshire - was also mayor of Salt Lake City.

Read some more about him here.

Silly Beggars

It seems that the Beguildy Community Council have recently rejected a request from Powys County Council that they should use the correct spelling, Bugeildy. Now this is an old argument. Back in the 1950s a local farmer, a Mr Harris, refused to sell a piece of land for a new school to the Radnorshire Education Committee because the Committee insisted that the new school should be called Bugeildy. Mr Harris was adamant that it should be Beguildy. In the end, the Education Committee backed down and Beguildy the school remains to this day.

Of course Bugeildy - the house of the shepherd - is the correct form and was written down as such as long ago as 1291. Bugeildy was used by Ieuan ap Hywel Swrdwal in his marvellous description of Bryndraenog and this is the word used in the old rhyme proclaiming the district as the best place in Wales for wool:

O Bont y Clas i Fwlch Bugeildy
Yno mae'r gwlân gorau yng Nghymru.

Of course Beguildy also has its literary associations, in the novel Precious Bane for example by Mary Webb - real name Gladys Mary Meredith.

The best solution would be to let people use whichever form they prefer and if Beguildy Community Council want to carry on using their meaningless spelling mistake, well good luck to them. Radnorian will continue to use Bugeildy.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 42

This is a rather over the top praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi addressed to Dafydd Goch ap Hywel ab Einion of St Harmon, there are some interesting references to grazing lands in North West Radnorshire though.

No 190, Praise of Dafydd Goch ap Hywel

Good day to the bravest unto Rouen
The stout chieftain of Garmon's land,
Dafydd Goch, perhaps he is better
Than any man, or a hundred times better;
A Beuno of Hywel ab Einion,
Cast on his fair brow and talent;
Hywel's Gradifael of a hundred summers,
The root and great grandson of Adam.

Dafydd is the strongest man,
The richest, most generous stag.
From the thirding of Gwerthrynion,
His third is like the land of Non.
He loves a hundred feasts and to stock
The earth with his young beasts.
His cattle were upon Blaen Marchdeg,
Colouring it with their multitude;
Some on Blaen Gwy, with more to come,
Others upon the soil of Hirddywel;
A thousand colouring the hilltops,
Three thousand about St Harmon.

The cheeriest goodman of the council,
To his world he's like old Bedwyr.
He'll do, he's so gentle,
What Isaac and Esau would do;
Circling the greenwood for the deer,
Loving the staghounds raising the deer,
Charging to fair Nant Hyddgant,
Watching the ford for a chase;
Yonder is Dafydd coming home,
Calling his bard to have his reward;
Settling before me an endless feast,
A whorl of money in the palm of my hand.
In his home Weobley beer is my portion, and venison.
If every man was a suitor for ten lands,
If every mere man was a bard,
From his generosity, he'd have a gift
From the land of Garmon, three times too much.

His feasts, Dafydd had two thousand,
Were greater than the shoots of the forest:
Gentleness, the fairness of the father,
The mildness of his two grandfathers,
The courage of Lancelot and his bravery,
The strength of old Arthur and his height.
He holds, in a southern land,
The power of five giants in every finger,
The power of two great oaks, of twelve,
The power of nine from the land of fair Garmon.
Dafydd has been given Adam's form,
Given a better countenance, given the hand of Nudd,
And a serpent's fist to be turned into a seal,
And the claw of a man of war.

The best of a man is his face,
A man who knows dislike of no-one,
A wealthy, liberal man,
A man whose gold is as much as the river pebbles.
I have the silver of this man,
I share the gold of the same man,
I have the silver coins he wears,
Gold of the same kind upon the grandson of Einion.

Radnorshire Pop

There's currently an exhibition in Cardiff of record covers from Cambrian Recordings Limited, the Pontardawe firm who produced Welsh Language pop in the 60s and early 70s. Seemingly it is kitsch. I wonder if the show includes this 1971 EP from Radnorshire songstress Maralene Powell?

Femmes Pilotes de Courses Auto

Any book which mentions Sterling Moss has to be treated with caution on the factual front and yes this book has more than its fair share of errors.

Rita Don, for example, was not Freddie Dixon's sister, her brother was infact Kaye Don, who the author includes in his list of female racers! At the same time how many books even mention Rita Don and where else are you likely to find a photograph of this 1930s Brooklands girl?

This is not a work of scholarship, perhaps there is too much about the Monte Carlo rally and the Paris-Saint-Raphael-Feminin, and not enough about Le Mans. What the book does have are the glorious photographs and they make the book well worth purchasing.

Pictured are eight Brooklands racers who competed in the Duchess of York race at Brooklands in 1932. The author names from left to right: Eileen Ellison, the Australian Joan Richmond, then three unidentified girls, then Victoria Worsley, Kay Petrie and Bill Wisdom. Anyone care to put a name to the three not named?

New Innes Ireland Book in the Pipeline

I mentioned a couple of posts below that there was a whisper that a collection of Innes Ireland's journalism might be in line for publication. Author Ed McDonough has just confirmed in a guestbook posting on my Innes website that he is currently editing just such a book at the request of Innes's widow Jean. What a wonderful idea, I do hope that this comes to fruition.

One of Our Most Charming Favourites of the Stage

Two things we can say with certainty about Eleanor Bufton (1842-1893) was that she was one of the leading actresses of the Victorian period and that she came from Radnorshire.

The Dictionary of National Biography, she was well enough known to be listed in that august work, has it that she was born in Llanbister in 1842, the illegitimate daughter of an illiterate mother, one Mary Bufton. I'm not so sure. The 1881 census lists her husband Arthur Swanborough, actor-manager of the Strand theatre and his mother-in-law, an Esther Bufton who was born in Knill around 1812. Eleanor was away from home in Liverpool and her birthplace looks for all the world like Evenjobb. The 1871 census confirms that mother and daughter were born in Radnorshire. Eleanor had married Arthur Swanborough, his real name was Smith, in 1860 and the pair are listed under that surname in the 1861 census, again mother Esther is living with her daughter. Miss Bufton's age varies quite widely in these records, in 1861 she was 26, by 1871 she had aged a mere three years and was 29, while by 1881 she was 41, when she died in 1893 her age is given as 58, all of which suggests to me that she was born around 1835.

In 1871 Eleanor Bufton hit the headlines when she was involved in a minor railway accident which left her cut about the head and bruised. She successfully sued the Metropolitan Railway Company, her acting ability perhaps proved by the jury's award of £1600 in damages. In 1880 Miss Bufton was again on the front pages when she was the victim of an outrageous attack while walking home from the theatre. The perpetrator was never found, perhaps it was a shareholder of the Railway Company.

There are some photographs of Eleanor and her daughters Vere and Gussie here.

Book of the Month

There aren't that many books about women racing drivers, Sammy Davis's Atalanta and John Bullock's Fast Women spring to mind, so this French offering - with 450 photographs and new information promised on characters such as Violette Morris and Lucy O'Reilly Schell - is very welcome.

Dorothy Levitt

A couple of weeks back I posted about a 1904 motor sport event that crossed the border into Radnorshire, a time when the car was still a pretty rare sight in Mid Wales, there being just 33 cars registered in the county by January 1905. Anyway it seems that a BBC programme called the One Show recently had a piece about female competitor Dorothy Levitt, it appears that she is something of a mystery and they can't find anything in the public record. Here's a clue, her real name was Elizabeth Levi, daughter of Jacob Levi, a tea dealer and his wife Julia - Jacob later changed his name to John Levitt.

New Edition of Marathon in the Dust

Well this one passed me by. It seems that Mercian Manuals published Innes Ireland's Marathon in the Dust last April, a follow-up to their edition of All Arms and Elbows. I hear a whisper that a collection of Innes's journalism for Road and Track may be in the pipeline.

Anyway here's the publisher's blurb for Marathon:

This is the story of three men in a car; their journey took them from London, England to Sydney, Australia, a distance of some 11,000 miles. But this is no ordinary travelogue, for it was no ordinary journey; the 7,500 miles to Bombay were covered in 7 days and the 3,500 miles across Australia in a further 3 and half days. The three men, Michael Taylor, Andrew Hedges and the author, Innes Ireland, were competitors in the Daily Express London to Sydney Marathon, an event that will go down in the annals of motoring history to rank with the Paris-Madrid and the Peking-Paris races held at the beginning of the century which marked the birth of motoring sport. Written with verve and gusto Marathon in the Dust vividly reflects the adventures of this astonishing journey which include being stoned by political agitators in Pakistan, a breakdown in the Australian desert which left them stranded for a day and a night without food or water, and their personal triumph in winning the Private Entrants award at Bombay. It also reflects the humour, companionship and team spirit that existed between the three men bound by a common adventure. The story moves at a pace in time with the event, but through it all the author manages to impart a remarkable impression of his inner thoughts and conflicts.

Takes the Biscuit

Perhaps the earliest motor sport event to take place in Radnorshire occurred on 4th September 1904, when the Automobile Club's 1000 mile small car trial briefly entered the county from Titley, travelling via Walton back to Kington. The week long event centred on Hereford attracted the leading motor manufacturers of the day, with three gold stars being awarded to the Wolseley, Siddeley and Swift Motor Companies.

A noteworthy competitor was the only female entrant, 24 year old Dorothy Levitt, driving for De Dion Bouton. Mechanical problems on the final day did not prevent the De Dion company from being awarded a silver medal. Miss Levitt was accompanied by her rather ill-tempered black Pomeranian dog throughout her fine drive, the topic of much cruel humour on the part of her fellow drivers. Dorothy had the last laugh however, for although as a woman she was NOT invited to any of the evening functions, she did ensure that one such event was interrupted for the presentation of a small gift from Miss Levitt to each of her fellow competitors ....... a bag of dog biscuits.

As well as De Dion Bouton, silver medals were also won by Humber and Allday & Onions. Bronze medals went to Speedwell, Brown Brothers, Star, Jarrott & Letts, Holland Park and Garner & Co.

Good Old Radnor Days

A newspaper report from 1879

Welsh on the March

Which was the last county in England to have indigenous native speakers of a Celtic language? I guess most people would say Cornwall but infact Herefordshire and Shropshire are more certain candidates.

The last speaker of Herefordshire Welsh is said to have died in the parish of Clodock in 1883, although Ffransis Payne maintains that five or six native speakers lived on into the twentieth century in the Golden Valley. In 1878 the statistician E G Ravenstein found that the Shropshire parish of Sychtyn was overwhelmingly Welsh speaking, as was the western half of Llanyblodwel, with substantial numbers also found in Selattyn. Looking at the 1901 Census for the neighbouring Denbighshire parish of Llansilin it is apparent that the great majority of those born in the Shropshire parishes noted above and also in Oswestry itself are listed as Welsh speakers. The Welsh language must have survived well into the twentieth century in these "English" districts.

What I find interesting about this is the complete lack of interest in this survival of the Welsh language in Shropshire and Herefordshire. The topic does not seem to excite those interested in the history of either county. Why on earth is it that such an important part of each county's heritage is ignored? Do local historians in the two counties perhaps have some psychological hang-up about the subject?

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 41

This ode by Lewis Glyn Cothi is addressed to Morgan ap Hywel of Croescynon, Llanbister.

No 160 Praise to Morgan ap Hywel

To you talisman of Llanbister through the three quarters
Of the world, be good health and a long life;
Your land which shall be tripartite,
will come to you in part.

Morgan, a man who shares, with a crested iron helmet,
The son of Hywel son of Philip,
Morgan the unbesmirched vineyard,
Who buys Burgundy wine by the pipe.

Tuns, pipes, with every finger
The soldier of Brwynllys gives;
A Tristan over part of the dominion,
A shield from Elystan's court.

Your gold, from the fair court, the bards' berries,
Son of the Wrist of Cymaron;
You gave the goods of this earth,
To minstrels as numerous as green trunks.

As the squirrel heads for the green trunks,
So we, the ten grades, to your hall, where there is praise;
By Mary and Egwad! I'll come to you,
Like the trout to the fishing line.

You bought from me a cywydd deuair,
Just as you would buy cattle at the market of St Mary's feast;
The man from the north who sells two heifers,
He knows the road to the fair.

Here I have a road to your house for my convenience,
A by-way is bad to a great fair;
A main road, a straight road is made to your hall,
Every course of worked stone fills my hand.

Twice as wide as the circulation of every groat,
The circulation of your chaired song;
Two courts, two lands were one word, for your father,
You'll rule two townships, two lands, three!

Morgan, your face will never be slandered,
Your spear, your breastplate, have been praised,
Your drove horses are fed on oats, in warfare
Your arms shine like dishes.

Your men wear steel, they are like haymakers,
Your stallions wear steel, your honour demands it,
And steel you've worn for your praise in Wales,
Your steel you'll wear down to the legs.

You turn above the perjures,
The turn of a wheel on a cart in springtime;
The turn of the harvest moon across the stars,
Like an eagle turning above the hens.

A just spear and sword,
That strike in battle to bring order;
Place a collar or two on petty squabbles,
Be a fetter upon the war host.

he'll not go for long without my laughter,
Morgan, I am nothing without you to praise;
By Christ, I'll not let you, by the relics,
be forgotten, not even one word from ten.

Anglesey, Man and Lundy will talk
Of your generosity and of your praise;
My tongue spills praise, a measured mass,
To you the apostle Paul of Llanbister.

Bogged Down?

Back in the big freeze of 1963 Innes Ireland imported a VW engined Swedish Snow-Trac, which he proceeded to use taking supplies to remote farms in the Scottish borders. Ireland was so impressed - he called it the world's greatest sporting machine, despite it having a top speed of only 16mph - that he became the vehicle's UK agent. The picture shows Innes demonstrating the Snow-Trac to an American journalist.

Down the Hatch

The past, they say, is a different country and the contrast between today's binge drinking culture and the Wales of the November 1961 vote on Sunday opening of the pubs surely bears that out.

The vote in favour of opening in Radnorshire came as a surprise to the mainly chapel led opposition to Sunday drinking - the county had been expected to vote against. On a turnout of 55% the 4205 "for" votes won the day with 58% of the ballots cast. Breconshire, too, fell to the pro-drink lobby 53% to 47% with a similar breakdown of the vote but this time in favour of the antis seeing Montgomeryshire continue as a "dry" county for another seven years.

In hindsight the continuing strength of the traditional chapel vote throughout Wales is remarkable. The vote was seen as being about the "Welshness" associated with nineteenth century non-conformity - the cosmopolitan cities of the south showing least interest, while in the Welsh-speaking heartland of Merioneth less than a quarter of the voters supported modernity and the "wets". At the same time it is wrong to think that all those supporting Sunday closing did so for the same reasons. Clubs were in any case unaffected by the ban and no doubt some of their members feared the loss of revenue which would result from the pubs being allowed to compete. Another group against Sunday opening, although they had to be careful not to do so openly, were those tenant landlords and their families who resented the fact that they were to lose their only day of rest during the week.

Howey Man's Story of Zulu King's Capture

Click to enlarge

Victorian Radnorshire

Victorian Radnorshire, Chartists, Rebecca Rioters, evictions, lawlessness associated with the fisheries, the workhouse, the emigrations in the wake of agricultural depression, the links with the coalfield - none of this gets much of a look-in with Llandrindod's somewhat middle-class, somewhat English Victorian festival. Here's a glimpse of that other Radnorshire from the 1891 census, just click on the image to enlarge.