Bilingual Sign?

We all know that bilingual signs enrage the Colonel Blimp types but isn't this a bit much? First off it isn't a bilingual sign at all - as far as I know the place has never had an English moniker - what it shows are two alternative spellings of the same Welsh name.

Anyone looking at old records knows that until recently placenames and even surnames had no established forms, with folk spelling as the mood took them. I can understand that where a non-standard Welsh spelling has gained wide usage, Rhayader for example, then there's a case for its continued use. Here the sensible thing would have been to stick with the modern standard spelling and ditch the lower one, rather than pretend it's English.

A Radnorshire Romance

Seen by the roadside between Llanfaredd and Aberedw.

Elenydd < Elenid

I guess this is another book I'll have to think about buying - a photographic essay about the so-called "green desert" that covers the mountainous borderland between Ceredigion and Radnorshire.

Llandrindod blogger in exile Gwenddolen has a post on the book launch in Aberystwyth and raises the interesting question as to whether Elenydd should really be called Elenid. It seems the 13C bards Phylip Brydydd and Iorwerth Fychan plumped for Elenid, which is the clincher as far as I can see - oh and Elenid also won the google fight.

No doubt that fight was swayed by the forename Elenid and Elenydd certainly seems to have gained a wide acceptance in recent years - in any case it's a great improvement on Cambrian Mountains or Mynyddoedd y Cambrian.

Slavery in Radnorshire?

When did slavery end in Radnorshire? Well I guess you could argue that it was in 1948 with the closure of the prisoner of war camps in Newbridge-on-Wye and Presteigne. When my father was demobbed in 1946 one of his first jobs was delivering lorry loads of POWS from the Pendre camp to their various workplaces around the district - didn't some work on the construction of the Claerwen reservoir?

Were these POWs really slaves? Technically they were not, although it must have felt like it. Hostilities had certainly long ceased and they were still being held against their will and used as forced labour in a foreign country. The position of the Italian POWs was particularly interesting as, since 1943, Italy had actually been an ally of the UK.

Perhaps many of these POWs, despite the rationing and harsh winter of 1947, have fond memories of their time in Radnorshire. A number married local girls and others returned to the area on holiday, although some had to wait until the fall of the Berlin Wall in order to do so.

If anyone has any information on these forgotten Radnorshire camps please leave a comment.

Elystan Glodrydd

Now here's a new website the idea of which will gladden the heart of any Radnorian with historical interests. Why it has even made the pages of this week's County Times. The proposed gathering of Elystan's descendants in Llanbister this coming October could be a sizable affair though, as it's doubtful if anyone with the slightest hint of a Radnorian ancestry isn't related many times over to those princes of East Central Wales who claimed descent from old EG.

Of course a lot of folk have no time for heraldry and genealogy, no doubt because of the way it has been hijacked by the likes of the Countess of Wessex. The truth is that they do provide invaluable insights into history. Elystan, his name is actually a Cymicised version of Athelstan, was the patriarch of leaders who led the Welsh resistance, often successfully, for half a millennium, in the lands between the Severn and the Wye.




As that great patriotic bard of the 15C Lewis Glyn Cothi declaimed:

Tarian Elystan fal iâ,
Iddo hon a ddihuna,
Ac ynddi'n meistriol'r drin
Ben baedd yn erbyn byddin.

(The shield of Elystan like ice, is awakening unto itself, and within it mastering the threat, the head of a boar against an army)

That's the ticket.

A New Radnor

It's plain enough that the Radnorians who settled Pennsylvania's Welsh Tract at the end of the 17C named the local creek after the river back home. There's some background here.

Up the Fron

When I was a young lad living down the Gravel Road, the Fron - and we always called it the Fron, a translation I guess of Y Fron - was a mere suburb of Crossgates. Nowadays, it seems to have graduated into a place that deserves its own roadsign, which is only right and proper, as it surely had an identity long before Crossgates had a gate.



The 15C bard Lewis Glyn Cothi composed a couple of poems to Dafydd Goch ap Maredudd, a local chieftain from the parish of Llanbadarn Fawr - the 1995 edition of Glyn Cothi's work says Llanbadarn Fynydd but that doesn't make much sense. Firstly because Dafydd's descent group - Llywarch ap Bran - had land in Llanbadarn Fawr but not in Llanbadarn Fynydd, secondly because references to the river Cymaron being in the locality - nowadays misspelt Cwmaran by those who should know better - are much more appropriate to Llanbadarn Fawr. The clincher for me is this line in one of the poems - Yn y ty fry ar y fron - OK you could translate that as "in the house up on the hill" but isn't "in the house up on the Fron" more likely?

Oh I just realised that some readers might not know that the Fron and Crossgates are both in the Radnorshire parish of Llanbadarn Fawr - nothing to do with Aberystwyth.

Nice Work If You Can Get it

Journo Andrew Gilligan makes the following point in today's Sunday Telegraph:

"For bureaucrats of the Welsh Assembly Government, the retirement age is actually lower, at 50, than the average police officer."

Now I'm sure this will come as news to the average toiler at the Assembly where the retirement age - if they can afford to - is actually 60 like everywhere else in the Colonial Civil Service.

One wonders where Mr Gilligan got this information? Down the pub? From a friendly local Taxi driver? From a pal in UKIP?

Seemingly Mr Gilligan is now away on holiday, hopefully someone will put him straight if he ventures west of Offa's Dyke.

UPDATE: The Sunday Telegraph has a circulation of over half a million, so that's a fair number who will have read Mr Gilligan's ridiculous claim last week that Assembly staff retire at 50. Has anyone from the Assembly refuted the assertion, have any of the Welsh political bloggers mentioned it? Not that I can see. Even the redoubtable Robyn Lewis has failed to get a letter published on the matter. The thing is you need to stamp on these false stories before they get legs. Come the referendum there will be thousands of hard-working souls who believe that Assembly staff retire at 50 whereas they are faced with the prospect of working until 70. The Welsh political class really need to wake up and get their act together.

The Edge of the Forest

Hay Horse Fair was a good place to go if you enjoyed a fight, at least that was the opinion of the old-timers in my local Radnorian pub when I was growing-up. Nowadays locals surely approach the Hay Literary Festival in much the same way as Amazonian Indians view so-called civilisation, peering out at an alien world from the edge of the forest.

Back in the good old days Welsh writers were more likely to be found in prison than in the pages of the Guardian, now it seems that the present generation can't wait to rub shoulders with the London glitterati in Y Gelli. But wait ..... no-one of consequence noticed that they were even there or that Hay on Wye was actually in Wales. It seems we're missing out on a great marketing opportunity by not raising the Welsh profile at Hay - although none of our politicians seemed bothered when the very successful Biker show was hounded out of Builth for no good reason.

Anyway, ever eager to help here's a suggestion .... why don't the Assembly government arrange for a few "Home Rule" slogans to be painted around the town. It was Paul Theroux who said the English only took an Irishman seriously when he was holding a gun and I guess the same thing applies to the Welsh. Give the glitterati the frisson that they are entering a conflict zone and the Welsh profile of the festival could be raised for the price of a couple of cans of Dulux.

Nothing on the Telly

YouTube is chock-a-block with Andean huaylas and huayno music - marvellous stuff.

Canberry

Back in the early 1950s when London decided that Wales deserved a capital city, there were those who thought that an out in the sticks sort of place like Llandrindod would make a mighty fine Welsh Canberra.

Now, as young Karen Brockman might say, I've been to Canberra, so I'm glad that Cardiff eventually won out. Stick a few thousand civil servants in the middle of nowhere and pretty soon the main topic of conversation becomes the latest flexitime rules.

Maybe it was Jan Morris who said that Canberra was built for a race of giants, but whoever it was, it's certainly true. Canberra is a great place to cycle but not much fun for a pedestrian, when even marching up to the counter across the huge marble floor of an empty bank is quite a hike.

What fun to point out, after a long stroll to the National Gallery of Australia, that Aussie treasure Sydney Nolan - that's one of his paintings and they're all like that - was actually living back in Presteigne - OK I know The Rodd is a few yards over the border but ... Anyway my last visit there was in 1996, just after another Radnorian resident, Lord Williams of Elvel (and shouldn't that be Elfael) had published his biography of Bradman. Here was a book that contained the great truth that, quite contrary to accepted opinion, it was Englishmen who were cheats and Australians who were whingers. An opinion that, once shared, certainly got Canberrans off the subject of T&S for a while.

Just a Dream on my Mind

I wonder how many people remember the 1986 World Cup in Colombia? OK I know it was actually held in Mexico but originally Colombia had been selected to host the competition. At the time I knew a few Bogotanas - heck I even had a Millonarios football shirt - as well as folk from Barranquilla, Cartagena and even Medellin; finding somewhere to stay would be no problem. Oh and Wales would obviously qualify, having just missed out on Spain in 1982. The great trip was on.

Of course Colombia did had a few problems - guerrillas, drug cartels, murder and kidnapping on the streets. I remember someone telling me that you could hire a hitman for $10 American and after she insisted on showing me her exit wound I was a believer. As it was in early 1983 with no stadium construction underway Colombia admitted defeat and handed the rights to the tournament back to FIFA.

Any hope of Wales qualifying for the rescheduled competition in Mexico ended with another ridiculous penalty decision at Ninian Park the night Big Jock died. I like to think that in some alternate universe Colombia did host the 1986 World Cup, Wales qualified and we were there.

Apologies if you don't like the new-look blog. I was experimenting and have no idea how to get the old settings back.

Interlude Musical

Down in the dumps? Sheila ought to be able to cheer you up. Still miserable? ....... a few years later Sheila was transformed into Disco Diva Sheila B Devotion, see here. Well I'm happy now anyway.

Sitting Next to a Strange Man is Liable to Make Me Vomit.

There's a jolly article about Turf eccentric Dorothy Paget in today's Mail, by the way the title of this post is taken from a letter she wrote to the Transport authorities requesting that she be allowed to reserve a railway carriage for her own exclusive use - this during the Second World War!

What the article doesn't touch on is Ms Paget's earlier Motor Sport involvement. Firstly Dorothy was a first cousin of the racing driver Whitney Straight and she was, more importantly, the financial backer of Le Mans winner Tim Birkin and the Blower Bentley project. Paget's interest in motor sport ended with Birkin's death. It is suggested that Paget was infatuated with Birkin but given her dislike of men this is debatable. When she greeted her great steeplechaser Golden Miller in the paddock following another victory, a wag suggested that it was the first time she had kissed a male - yes, Dorothy replied, but he is a gelding.

A Llandrindod Correspondent

The time was that non-conformist Wales was one of the more philo-semitic corners of the planet. There's little left of that world now, apart from the names of a few emptying chapels and Old Testament Welsh surnames such as Moses, Israel and Jeremiah. Nowadays Welsh opinion formers are more likely to take a lead from the increasingly anti-semitic London media than from the traditions of their own country.

Given that historic philo-semtism, Tredegar's anti-Jewish riots of 1911 were something of an aberration. Attacking the businesses of unpopular shopkeepers was fairly common in the nascent revolutionary years of 1910 and 1911 in the coalfield. The attacks on specifically Jewish businesses in Tredegar lasted only a couple of days before being subsumed into more general unrest. Still it would be interesting to discover exactly who the anti-Jewish rioters were, given the ethnic and religious hotchpotch of Edwardian Monmouthshire.

The London press made a meal of the whole thing, comparing the riots to the pogroms of Russia, but Jewish correspondents from South Wales were quick to dismiss such sensationalised journalism in letters to the press. Indeed there was only one letter from Wales, it was published in the Jewish Chronicle, which hinted at any wider anti-semitism in the country. This came from a Jewish minister, Herbert Sandheim of Llandrindod Wells who seemingly blamed Jewish comedians in the music hall for the situation!

So was there something about Llandrindod and its entertainments which caused Mr Sandheim to express opinions not generally shared by his co-religionists? Infact a glance at the 1911 Census shows that Mr Sandheim was a 28 year old Glaswegian - he must have been holidaying in Llandrindod when he wrote the letter as he had been living in Swansea, with his Russian born wife, for at least a year. Radnorshire can have played little part in forming Mr Sandheim's opinions. You can read about the Tredegar riots here.

The illustration shows Staniforth's Dame Wales apologizing to a Jewish shopkeeper for the depredations of the rioters. Nowadays the BBC would probably call them peace activists.

A Radnorian State of Mind

Been reading some articles by Fred Pearce on the over-population myth. this is a good summary. Even more evidence that lovable old David Attenborough is one of the most dangerous individuals in Britain. Seemingly Jeremy Irons is the latest to nail his colours to the Eugenics masthead. Why don't these people take the most obvious step to reducing the world's population?

Talking of superfluous luvvies it's the ghastly Hay Festival and it isn't raining .............. bugger! How will Breconshire's leading artist, the amazing Steffan Powell, ever complete his magnum opus without a steady supply of sodden panama hats from the festival field? His mud entombed SUV taken from the RWAS showground was such a triumph, although the ewes in the Ifor Williams trailer are getting a bit rank now. Think formaldehyde Steffan.

Finally, I've been spending a fair amount of time delving into the 1911 Census looking, amongst other things, at the last few dozen young Radnorians from established Radnorshire families who still spoke Welsh. Some of these individuals even lived on into the 1990s, like Joni said you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

Give 'em an Asbo

Watched a TV programme about drummers and Keith Moon's penchant for driving cars into swimming pools. Of course this was just another example of rock stars copying the anti-social behaviour of an earlier generation of race drivers.

Innes Ireland usually gets the blame for parking a Hertz hire car in a hotel swimming pool in California back in the early 60s, although in reality the culprit was local sportscar driver Augie Pabst. It was seemingly done to settle a bet about headlights working underwater and Hertz weren't very pleased until Pabst pointed out that their advertising slogan of the day was "you park it, we collect it."

At this point I would post a photo of French GP driver Harry Schell's little road car neatly parked in his hotel bedroom, only the copyright police might not approve.

"Fair Votes"

So what would the House of Commons have looked like if it was actually decided by "fair votes" as Billy Bragg and his mates seem to wish? Something like this:

Tories 235, Labour 188, Lib Dems 149, UKIP 20, BNP 12, SNP 11, Green 6, Democratic Unionists 4, Plaid Cymru 4, Sinn Fein 4, the Rest (around 14 parties) 17

So I guess the BNP would be up for that. Of course there are plenty of PR systems which could be worked to exclude extremist minority parties but then they wouldn't be "fair" would they?

"Fair votes" takes power even further away from communities and puts it more firmly than ever in the hands of the party bosses and the media manipulators, but hey that's just my opinion.

NOTE: I'm not sure if sacking Kay Burley is one of the conditions for Clegg joining the coalition, although it would be a fairly easy one to agree on.

Musical Interlude

You Tube gold ....... Mr Jackie Shane

Election Round-Up

I've got a stalker .... his name's Nick Clegg and he keeps sending me letters. It's all a bit unnerving.

I did think of voting for the Tory, especially after watching a determined 70 year old, who normally walks with a stick, scrambling down a cliff face to recover a Suzy Davies placard thrown there by some hater. I thought about it, but then I remembered those poor folk evicted into the snows of Rhos Llanyre in the 1830s and I realised it was too soon, give it another 100 years and maybe.

Years ago candidates actually used to turn up on your doorstep but nowadays campaigning seems to be restricted to the telly. The only one to make it down my garden path was the Labour lad, who is about 15 and hasn't yet sipped too deep at the well of cynicism.

UKIP? I hadn't realised that the only people they hate more than the Continentals are each other. If you enjoy a bit of a snigger then check out this UKIP member's blog.

Back in 1970 I hitch-hiked halfway across the country to cast a vote for Plaid Cymru. Nowadays? Well, the most interesting thing about their campaign is the age of their candidate - is she 56 or 70? In the interest of completeness I should mention that there are three looney candidates standing, one green one, one mad one and one with a silly hat.

Posh Totty

It would be a fairly bigoted Labour supporter who refused to admit that Samantha Cameron possessed a decent undercarriage. OK not enough to get one voting for Suzy Davies, but still.

Anyway while perusing today's papers I came across an article detailing some of the gel's blue blooded ancestors and one reference caught my eye, her grandmother was the widow of a racing driver. So who could this be, the article didn't say? Infact a little research revealed it was someone we've already posted about on this blog, Glen Kidston.

Kidston, winner of Le Mans in 1930 and whose various dare-devil exploits earned him the tabloid sobriquet "the man who cannot be killed" finally met his maker flying in the Drakensburg Mountains, he'd recently broken the London to the Cape record. Kidston's funeral service was held at Glasbury Church on June 3rd 1931. I'm not sure if he was buried at Glasbury or at the family estate - does anyone know? Kidston's widow wasted no time finding a new husband, marrying Sam's grandfather later that year.

Howey was Howey when Llandrindod was a pup, Howey will be Howey when Llandrindod's buggered up!

It seems that the Radnorshire village of Howey has awakened from its slumbers to seek fame and fortune in the BBC and Big Lottery Fund Village SOS competition. Good luck to them.

Looking at the before and after pictures in the bilingual directory, it's something of a shock to realise that your blogger is more familiar with the village in its late 19th Century guise rather than the present day. Certainly nothing much changed until the 1970s, when the Pentis - the old wooden smithy (middle distance) and the bakehouse (foreground) were knocked down. The less said about the Bridgend Inn being renamed the Laughing Dog the better.

Incidentally, I wonder if the regenerators of Ashfield are aware that the site was originally called Shimne Wen?

Equal Treatment?

I'm trying to avoid this fantasy election but I couldn't help noticing that all the London based parties, including the saintly Nick Clegg, are now demanding that immigrants have to learn English. Can you imagine the kerfuffle if someone suggested that incomers to Meirionydd, for example, should have to learn Welsh?

In a sane country it might happen but in Wales not a chance. Even the Assembly is quite content that 30% of the public servants in it's Caernarfon office can't speak Welsh, while in the Carmarthen and Aberystwyth offices monoglot English speakers make up a whopping 70% of the staff.

Land Speed Record

click to read

I can't say I'm very interested in modern-day motor sport. Take rallying for example, time was it tested road car reliability, stamina and navigational skills. Nowadays road cars are pretty reliable, you can find your way with satnav and driving for long periods without a break is seen as irresponsible. Modern day rallying has retreated to the forests where a series of short sprints are the order of the day. What is the point?

Formula racing might have a purpose if it contributed to the most important motoring issue of the day - sustainability. As it happens 1950s Grand Prix racing - when the cars ran on ethanol for example- was far more eco friendly than the current over-blown circus.

Perhaps the most pointless exercise of all is the Land Speed Record. Who but a few eccentric Englishman would want to charge around at 700mph? Everyone else gave up when technological development meant landing on the moon, not sitting on the end of a four-wheeled rocket belting across a dried out lake.

Of course it once had a point and the holder of the land speed record at 125mph between 1914 and 1924 was one Ligurd G Hornstead - or was it? Now Ligurd is a pretty rare forename and no such person as Ligurd Hornstead exists in the public records, I once put forward the theory that the speedsters real name was Lydston Hornstedt, a son of a former British consul, born in Moscow. Now the above extract from the 1911 census seems to clinch that identification.

"the backward and pagan county of Radnorshire"

The Religious Census of 1851 would certainly have added weight to the view of mainstream non-conformist Wales that Radnorshire was a pagan county. The bare figures show just 50% of the population attending a place of worship on 30th March 1851 compared with 105% in devout Cardiganshire.* Even the heathen city of Cardiff managed a 70% turnout. Only the Rhayader district 72% shows a degree of religiosity, while Presteigne 49% and Knighton 37% are firmly in the camp of the damned.

The figures have to be treated with a degree of caution however, because they are based on Registration districts not the administrative county boundaries - it's a difference that continues to catch out researchers today. Ten Radnorshire parishes were counted in the Builth district 61% and nine with Hay 65%. Meanwhile the Knighton district contained seven English parishes while Presteigne contained fourteen Herefordshire parishes including the town of Kington.

The figures from the 1910 Report on Religious Bodies in Wales have been published on an administrative county basis and these show little difference between Radnorshire, 40% of the population shown as being a member/communicant of a religious body, and neighbouring Breconshire 44% and Montgomeryshire 45%. Yes Radnorians still lagged behind the Cardis 64% but were well ahead of Monmouth 24% and Glamorgan 31%.

Radnorshire was no doubt a less chapel frequenting county - in 1910 the Anglicans on 41% of the religious still outnumbered the Baptists on 36% - but was it quite as pagan as the 1851 figures might suggest?

*The figure was arrived at by comparing the number of worshippers with the population, of course some attended more than one service and would be counted twice.

We'll Keep a Welcome

I'm probably way out of touch with this but I've finally noticed that Radnorshire is now covered by Google Snooper. Ex-pats especially will welcome being able to check out all those sights they know and love from back home - vandalised shop fronts for example.

Elf and Safety

There seems to be a bit of an internet campaign against Icelanders at the moment because of their belief in elves - see picture.

I can understand the tendency towards Icelandophobia given the recent history of cash and ash, but, honestly, are we any more rational with our trust that computer simulations can predict chaotic systems?

Anyway, with a population a little over twice that of Powys, Iceland is certainly punching above its weight on the international stage at the moment.

Radnor Lily

No, not a good time girl from Llanbadarn y Garreg but Radnorshire's very own native flower, see here.

Anyway if you're fed-up with Cleggophilia, volcanomania or Britain's Got Talent, why not check out Radnorian flora and fauna with this useful site.

Relativity

One thing that gets on my goat are well-off folk who pontificate about the wonderful value for money of the BBC's licence fee.

Maybe it is, although £145.50 is quite a large sum for a low paid worker earning, say, 8K a year. A couple on the average wage would be paying out over £900 if they were charged at the same percentage of their income, while a couple of middle managers in the public service would be forking out £1500. Still good value for money or would we start to hear some squeals?

Forgotten Radnorians - Sir Harford Jones

With a collection of his papers recently selling at Sotheby's for £217k, Presteigne born Harford Jones (1764-1747) can hardly said to be forgotten by those with an interest in the history of Iran and Iraq. An adventurer, linguist, agent of the East India Company, jewel merchant, author and ambassador to the court of the Shah of Persia, Harford Jones spent the years between 1783 and 1811 in places that feature prominently in today's headlines; Basra, Baghdad and Tehran.

Of course Radnorians will be interested in his local connections - what for example happened to the three children, by his Armenian mistress Maria Gorjee, brought back to Boultibrooke by his wife?

In his recent book on Radnorshire politics Keith Parker describes Harford Jones as pompous, yet many will surely sympathise with his enlightened political standpoints. Jones was a supporter of parliamentary reform and of the cottagers in their struggle against the enclosure of the commons, he also opposed tithes and was a campaigner against the abolition of the Court of Great Sessions.*

* Many people seem to think that an independent Welsh legal system ended with the laws of Hywel Dda. Infact the Court of Great Sessions was a separate and powerful Welsh institution until it was abolished in 1830.

Oh Look It's Snowing!

No doubt there will be plenty of April Fool posts out there on the internet today, but really what is the point when reality is so much more far-fetched. Llanwrtyd's bog-snorkelling listed as one of the world's top 10 events, Llandrindod as the best place to go out in Britain - that's go out, not get out of - and anyway shouldn't it really be Rhayader. Of course Llandrindod does seemingly have four single women for every man, not much point taking them to Rhayader for a curry though, who is going to look after the kids.

"Coming from the border means that I feel like I am from Wales."

A couple of months ago I was quite unkind to Ellie Goulding - for any old fogeys reading, she's a rising young pop singer - because, bamboozled by the hopeless Western Mail, I believed she was from Knighton, a fact which she seemed to ignore on her twitter page. Now it turned out that the WM had confused Knighton with Kington, well it is a long way north of the Gabalfa flyover, so apologies to Ellie who actually hails from Lyonshall. What is interesting is that Ms Goulding herself does on occasions express a certain ambiguity about her ethnicity.

Perhaps someone will remind me who it was remarked that the border between England and Wales was a gradual progression, with England proper not starting until east of Llanllieni (Leominster). Anyway, I've always been interested in those snippets of history, uncontaminated by academic veracity, which ordinary folk believe - the kind of thing you read on tea-towels about Welsh being the oldest language for example. One such is the belief that Herefordshire used to be a Welsh county but that every hundred years or so a Welsh county is transferred to England. This belief actually contains a grain of truth, namely that, objectively, the aim of the powers-that-be has always been the destruction of a separate Welsh identity.

According to the historian Percy Enderbie, writing in 1661, Welsh was spoken over a large part of Herefordshire. Not just in the districts of Erging (Archenfield) and Ewias, south of the Wye, but also in the old Marcher lordships of Clifford, Winforton, Willersley, Eardisley, Huntington and Lugharness - the parishes of Stapleton, Willey, Kinsham, Combe, Rodd, Nash, Lttle Brampton and Titley. No doubt Welsh disappeared from these areas fairly soon after Enderbie's time, although a browse through the field names of some of these places north of the Wye will show plenty of examples of Welsh names surviving until the mid-nineteenth century.

Of course the real stronghold of the Welsh language in Herefordshire was south of the Wye in parishes such as Craswell, Clodock, Longtown, Llanveynoe and Michaelchurch Escley. Here eight out of nine defamation cases between 1712 and 1774 were in Welsh and a 19 year old from Michaelchurch Escley who came before a court in 1757 was described as a "strainger to the English tongue." It's usually cited that the last speakers of Herefordshire Welsh died in the mid-nineteenth century and an initial glance at the 1891 Census doesn't show any residual bilingualism amongst folk from Herefordshire parishes who had migrated to the coalfield.

Even before DNA, bloodgroup evidence suggested a divide between the east and west of the county and surnames are another example of the Welsh origins of many Herefordians. How Welsh any of these folk actually feel is debatable however, perhaps someone could research the loyalties of public house boozers during Wales/England rugby matches. Unlike Cornwall, there seems little evidence of Herefordians acknowledging it's old language and culture.

Over the years there have been various half-hearted calls for parts of Herefordshire to be included in Wales. I remember a parish council in the 1960s, Brilley perhaps, voting to join Radnorshire. More recently an NFU official caused a stir by claiming that Herefordshire farmers would be better off in Wales. The subsequent comments on a local BBC website are interesting as some of the most vehement opponents of reunion are those with Welsh surnames, one can hazard a guess as to why.

Forgotten Radnorian

The former Mrs Gibson-Watt

Favourite tweet on Ms Hewitt's £3K a day price tag " .... is she a perm footballer?"

Interlude Musical

Book of the Month

Radnorshire is fortunate to fall within the area of interest of the Logaston Press, if the county had to rely on Welsh publishers alone, then good books of local interest would be few and far between. It's also noticeable that the Herefordshire publisher seems to survive without recourse to the public purse. The county is also fortunate to have an author such as Mr Parker, who on this occasion has turned his attention to the local politics of the nineteenth-century.

The first half of the book details the elections to the county's two Parliamentary constituencies - the county seat and the Radnor Boroughs seat, which survived until 1885. This is the tale of local gentry rivalries, alliances and accommodations told in a lucid manner with excellent illustrations of the protagonists and their mansions.

In the second half we move on to a Welsh dimension with the widening of the franchise and the emergence of more modern politicians such as the Liberal MP Frank Edwards. The author also has three chapters covering those extra-Parliamentary activities of the small farmers and labourers: the cottagers revolt against the Enclosures, the Rebecca Riots and the later Rebeccaism of the salmon poachers. Although the author recognizes the positive outcomes of such challenges and the local establishment's fear of and willingness to compromise with the commonality, I do notice a hint of disapproval of, for example, the cottagers' champion Cecil Parsons. While an old established family like Lewis of Harpton refused to enclose long established encroachments onto the common, the newcomer James Watt was less cautious. Thomas Weale's wife Margaret may well have had an ungovernable temper and was carried, in her bed, and dumped on the floor of a local public house rather than out on the common, but the fact remains that the Weale's home was demolished and the family and their six children evicted into the snow. Likewise Richard Page and his wife may have been evicted for the non-payment rent, but what is not recorded is that the couple were in their eighties.

Although mentioned in passing, I would also have liked to have seen a separate chapter on the party politics of the new county and district councils of the 1890's, Radnorshire's passion for Independent councillors came only later. Like Mr Parker's previous Radnorshire book, this is a thoroughly researched and well-written work, at £10 it should be in the library of every Radnorian with an interest in the history of our county.

Llandingdong Bells

There's a new blog set amidst the urban decay of 21st century Llandrindod. Should be worth checking out.

Book Review

Now I admit that I have no qualification whatsoever to review a book about Herefordshire placenames, but, hey, even the author Mr. Coplestone-Crow admits that he himself is no expert. Indeed he has relied heavily on placename guru, the late Dr Margaret Gelling who also provides a less than glowing foreword.

On the face of it untangling English placenames is a fairly straightforward business - you take a familiar element, the ley in Litley for example, meaning a clearing and then add on some random Saxon forename, in this case Lutta ,to give Lutta's clearing. OK I'm joshing a subject which I know nothing about - but it would be useful to know a little bit more about names like Lutta, and if there is any other evidence for their presence in the localities to which they supposedly gave their names.

It is in Mr Coplestone-Crow's treatment of the old district names of Herefordshire that the book has great value. Of course I was aware of the old Welsh districts of Ewyas and Erging, although not the extent of the latter. The district of Mawfield or Maes Mail Locheu was news to me, while my confusion concerning the location of Lugharness - it means Lordship on the River Lugg and according to Percy Enderbie was Welsh in speech in the 17C - was cleared up. Oh and doesn't the observation that Geoffrey of Monmouth made a copying error, confusing the D in what is now Doward with CL to give Cloartius as the location of Vortigern's last stand, rather suggest that he was using older sources rather than his own imagination?

Not a book which will be of much interest to Radnorians, except for the occasional irridentist such as myself, Herefordians, no doubt, would be well advised to snap it up.

I Spy

According to a recent article in the Daily Mail the Mossad agent Erika Chambers was the daughter of motor sport's Marcus Chambers.

Of course there have been less tenuous connections between the sport and the world of espionage than this. MI5's Jock Horsfall, killed at Silverstone in 1949, would have made it into the encyclopedias if he had lived to race another season - unfortunately nearly all motor sport reference books seem to think that Grand Prix racing began with the World Drivers' Championship in 1950! Horsfall's major claim to fame was using his battered transporter to transfer The Spy Who Never Was, Glyndwr Michael, to the submarine HMS Seraph.

Brooklands racer Mark Pepys, that's the Earl of Cottenham to you and me, was also a high-ranking MI5 officer - although perhaps a little too friendly with the Nazi spy Anna Wolkoff. Wolkoff's great pal was another pre-war racer Enid Riddell, indeed Anna seemingly died in a car driven by Riddell in 1973. Now Riddell's name crops up in nearly every account of pre-war English fascism you care to read but sadly no-one seems bothered to research her background. I believe that Enid was the daughter of a London stockbroker and his estranged South African wife, oh and she didn't die in that 1973 crash as most accounts claim.

Was French lady racer Violette Morris primarily an Abwehr agent or a Gestapo torturer? Seemingly she was both and important enough to be assassinated on orders from London in 1944. The mysterious Robert O'Brien, who competed in the 1952 Belgium Grand Prix, has been suspected of being a CIA agent - certainly his motor-racing activities took him behind the Iron Curtain, driving for a Countess Walchiers, a lady who appears to have no existence outside the pages of the racing press. Oh and when MI6 wanted to find spy Richard Tomlinson a job , who did they turn to? Why none other than a man once described by Max Mosley as "a certified halfwit"

Off the Beaten Track

You realise your blog is getting unwieldy and maybe ready for the scrapheap when even the author can't dig out his old posts!

Anyway I've previously posted about, but can't find, the Innes Ireland memorial on a remote peninsula in Ross Shire. The sculptor responsible for the plaque has a website which includes a photo which shows, for once, the memorial in its proper context, with the Atlantic Ocean in the background. Check it out here.

A Radnorshire Book from Canada?

I've posted before about the Duggan brothers from Llansantffraid yn Elfael who made something of a splash in Albertan politics back in the early years of the last century, here and here. Now a correspondent writes to point out that Joseph Duggan (pictured) penned a volume about his little Welsh home called "The Unforgotten Valley, Studies of Life and Character on the Welsh Border". Anymore information about this book?

Of course Duggan married the Builth contralto Bessie Evans, daughter of local musical maestro Llew Buallt and readers might be interested in a snippet from the recently published treasury of local history Cymru Evan Jones. It seems that Llew (Evan Evans) was living at Melin Dol Llinwydd on the Duhonw brook during the great flood of 1853. Such was the height of the deluge that the family had to seek shelter in the loft and then as the waters continued to rise were forced to break through onto the roof. Their troubles were not over, as half the building suddenly collapsed into the torrent, young Evan would have been seven years old at the time.

The Elusive Mrs Lace

Motor historians are far more interested in old cars than old drivers, after all old racing cars can be worth a pile of cash, while those who drove them, except for a few stars, are largely forgotten.

Still it comes as a surprise at how little is know of quite well-known names from the past. Take for example the pre-war racer Alfred Clucas Lace (1897-1978). Remembered mainly for the crash in which two spectators were killed at Brooklands in 1938. Lace was always known by his initials and historians seem quite unaware of his forenames or anything about him away from the track.

Then there was Lace's "wife" Mrs A. C. Lace - that's her pictured following a Bugatti in her Singer at a 1936 Brooklands meet. Now Mrs Lace can hardly be said to have had a distinguished racing career. She won the Ladies race at the 1938 London Grand Prix meeting at Crystal Palace and had two good finishes in the Monte Carlo rally, 27th with Elsie Wisdom in 1938 and 25th, driving alone from Riga in 1939.

So who exactly was Mrs Lace? With the help of the archives and some informed contributions to the Autosport Forum we learn that her maiden name was Phoebe Elizabeth Mylchreest, a grand-daughter of Joseph Mylchcreest, the "Diamond King," a Manxman who had made his fortune in South Africa. Phoebe was therefore a cousin of Tom Sheard the first Manx born winner of the Junior and Senior TT races, as well being the niece of the contralto Ada Mylchreest, an early favourite on the BBC.

Born in 1914, young Phoebe - she was seemingly called Betty - was barely 17 when she married a Mr McQueen in London in 1931. By 1934 she was competing on the track as Mrs A. C. Lace, although it's doubtful if the couple were ever married. By the late 1930s young Betty was the proprietress of the Hay Hill Club in Mayfair, subsequently having the misfortune to be made bankrupt just before war broke out. Around the same time Mr Lace, who optimistically described himself as a professional racing driver, was also bankrupted and soon left for Finland, where he was among the small group of British volunteers in that country's Winter War with the Soviet Union. Meanwhile in 1940 in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Britain, Betty Lace married the New Zealand fighter ace Brian Carbury. At the time she was using the surname Williams, although why is a matter for speculation. The marriage cannot have lasted long as Carbury remarried in 1948.

Given her profligate usage of surnames it's difficult to know what eventually became of Ms Mylchreest. She was seemingly alive in 1971, and still using the surname Lace which she had adopted in the days when she raced on the Brooklands track.

A Radnorian Fascist

With a 50% drop in local BNP membership, from 2 to 1, it's highly unlikely that the good citizens of the county will contribute greatly to the probable upturn in the National Socialist (Nazi) vote in the forthcoming General Election.

Lonely Radnorshire fascists can however take some consolation from the county's link with the Mosleyite Jeffrey Hamm. Through his British League of Ex-Servicemen and Women, the Monmouthshire born Hamm was already seeking to revive English fascism as early as 1944. The prime mover in the series of street fights centered around Ridley Road in the East End during 1946 and 1947, Hamm went on to be Mosley's secretary and most loyal lieutenant. His connection with Radnorshire? His grandfather Edward Jones came from Walton.

Welsh Language Circulating Schools in Radnorshire

Between 1736 and 1776 over 300,000 adults and children were taught to read in the Circulating schools established by Griffith Jones and paid for and later managed by the philanthropist Bridget Bevan.

In Radnorshire, schools were held in fourteen parishes up to 1774, and although their impact was certainly less than in many other parts of Wales, in the best year, 1740, around 600 Radnorians were taught to read.

Academics occasionally express surprise that schools were held in parishes where the Welsh language was no longer used in church services. I think the mistake the academics make is assuming that the switch to English-only services denotes that a parish has become wholly English in speech. A more likely explanation is that folk unable to speak any English were no longer a significant factor in the parish. For example the cleric of Abbeycwmhir writing in 1813 confirming that church services had been in English for many years, added: "the young people do not in general understand Welsh, but the old people do understand English." To me this suggests that not only was the older generation bilingual but, in view of the qualifying term "in general," so too were some of the younger.

Incidentally the Welsh school referred to in the letter was held at Wernfawr farm.

Put it in Perspective

We tend to view history from the perspective of today. Nowadays Radnorshire is very much a pipsqueak when compared with, say, London, but was that always the case? In medieval times, when London had a population of around 50000, the lands that became Radnorshire probably had around 16000, not much less than today. Look at history from that perspective and this part of East Central Wales was a much bigger player than it is today. Historians sometimes miss that kind of thing.

Something similar happens when we consider Britain in the immediate post-Roman period. This blog is written in English and not Irish, so it's natural to see the Anglo-Saxons - the eventual victors - as being the greatest threat to Roman Britain. If you lived at the time perhaps you would have seen things quite differently, with the Irish and the Picts posing far more of a problem.

Look at a map of Irish placenames in Wales and we find that they are concentrated in West Wales, including Ceredigion, and from there into the strategic heartland of Britain run two great rivers the Wye and the Severn. Guarding the headwaters of these two river routes you find the old Welsh kingdoms of Gwerthrynion (basically the old hundred of Rhayader) and Arwystli. Gwerthrynion itself seems to be named after Vortigern, a likely military leader of Britain in the early 5th-century. So were these little kingdoms originally established as military provinces against the perceived major threat of Irish expansion into the Midlands?

Anyway here's an interesting link which argues that Stanage - that part of Radnorshire on the Teme, east of Knighton, has important Vortigern connections. Perhaps Time Team should dig them up.

Welcome Back

After a couple of weeks of deep freeze when the only folk on the roads seemed to be people with jobs, lowly paid care workers and the like, it's nice to see so many swish cars out and about in the thaw. People with careers getting back behind their desks .......how ever did we manage without them?

Meanwhile a "climate expert" is warning about the formation of glaciers on Snowdon. Gosh, it wasn't that long ago that the "experts" were telling us that snow on Snowdon would soon be a thing of the past. Not to worry though it seems that we misheard all that "global warming" stuff anyway, as Friends of the Earth point out, what they were really saying was "global storming." Er .... right.

The Day the Music Died

A couple of tales from the Evan Jones book. Firstly concerning the famous Llandrindod minister, Kilsby , something of a celebrity in his day. Annoyed that his congregation turned to look back as the stragglers came into church, the preacher decided to announce each late arrival,
"Here's Mr Jones, Dolberthog" and so on.
Finally a lady visitor to the town appeared,
"Well I've no idea who on earth this is, everyone turn around and look at her."

Secondly the sad tale of Tomos Prys, a fiddler from Llangamarch who maintained the old tradition of circulating around the gentry houses and farms of the district until the end of the 18th Century. At a time of religious revival when folk eagerly turned their backs on fun for the pleasures of the pulpit, Tomos happened to come across a noted local preacher,
"Hang on you can have my fiddle,"
"Why are you giving me your fiddle?"
"Well you've already taken my audience."

And in such ways passed away Hen Gymru Llawen (Merrie Old Wales).

Book Review

This is a selection taken from the papers of "the doyen of peasant historians" Evan Jones (1850-1928) of Ty'n y Pant, Llanwrtyd. As the editor points out in his foreword, some aspects of the author's interests have had to be largely omitted from this edition - archaeology and music for example. What remains are 300 pages covering the folk culture of the Builth Hundred, its farming, local history, social life, sports, religion, customs, poetry, superstitions and traditional proverbs.

It is a book that will be well received by anyone with an interest in Mid Wales, agricultural history or folklore in general. By its nature it is the type of book that can be dipped into at leisure, divided as it is into numerous short paragraphs on a myriad of topics which had caught the attention of Evan Jones during a lifetime of collecting.

Checking out the occasional item of Radnorshire interest, I was quite excited to see examples of the work of, what the author described as a Radnorshire born country rhymer in the Welsh language, Shams Clee. Unlike Evan Jones, we now have access to the 19C Census Returns which show that Clee was infact born in Llanfihangel Bryn Pabuan.

How I came to acquire this book provides a sad comment on the history of Builth Hundred. I had meant to buy a copy before Christmas, but had never got around to placing an order. Visiting some relatives I was told that one of them had just purchased the book after reading a review in the local paper and, since Evan Jones' sons Emrys and Afan had been regular visitors to her parents during her youth, she had hurried out to place an order. Unfortunately the book was of little use as she had failed to notice that it was written in Welsh. I purchased the book (at a small discount!) and reflected on the sad truth that many of the families whose ancestors and farms are mentioned within its pages would be in a similar position - unable to read about their own history.

The book is published in an attractive hardback edition by Gwasg Gomer at £16.99.

Talgarth

Browsing the 1891 Census I was surprised to discover that a majority of the Talgarth born population of the town aged over 30 were able to speak Welsh. Look at the wider parish and there must have been bilingual natives of the district who spoke the language - presumably the historic dialects of the place - well into the Twentieth Century. I suppose most people will shrug their shoulders at this, but it left me a little bit amazed. Of course big Victorian families being raised as monoglot English speakers put paid to any chance of bilingualism persisting.

Looking at wikipedia I see that "Talgarth is also becoming a place for artists and writers." Oh well.

Just Popping Down the Shops

Here's the cover of Autosport picturing Innes Ireland's 1962 Tourist Trophy winning Ferrari 250GTO chassis number 3505GT. Now there's a quote in the Lis book that confirms that Innes drove this car on the roads of Radnorshire:

"I used to take 3505 home quite often and drive it to the races I was taking part in. I remember driving it down to Brands Hatch on the road, when I arrived the mechanics put a hot set of plugs in it and changed the wheels and I drove it in the race, then drove it home again. My wife used to use it to go shopping, it was a very docile animal."

Wonder if anyone remembers this car piloted by Innes on the Radnorshire roads or even his wife taking it out shopping!

Freno Bene Si!

Innes Ireland, works Ferrari driver, it's something you read occasionally, usually when someone has a car or piece of memorabilia to sell. Yes, Innes did once race a Formula One Ferrari 156, nominally for the British Racing Partnership but in reality for the works, and yes, he did drive the legendary 250GTO to victory in the Tourist Trophy. Yet works driver is stretching a point. Perhaps if the fuel contracts could have been sorted out in 1962 he would have joined the Maranello team, but it is as a Lotus driver and, given his long association with the company as Consultant Engineer, as an Aston Martin man that Innes is more properly remembered.

Of course Innes was a student of motor racing history and also a romantic, so it is little wonder that he could declare that "the ambition of any racing driver worth his salt was to drive for Scuderia Ferrari". And although he never really achieved that lofty aim, his relationship with the Modenese stable is certainly worth recalling.

1962 was the year that Enzo Ferrari was so desperate to secure Stirling Moss's services that he agreed to enter a car for the Rob Walker team in the Formula One World Championship. A car, by the way, which was to race in Scottish racing blue rather than Italian red. As part of the deal Stirling would also drive Ferrari sports cars for the UDT-Laystall team and in this Innes Ireland was to be his co-pilot. Innes, for whom Stirling was always a hero, looked forward to the partnership with relish.

A February outing in the UDT-Laystall 250SWB (2735GT) in the Daytona Three Hour race, had seen Innes retiring after 59 laps with brake problems. Then came the first drive with Moss, the Sebring 12 Hour race, where they shared a 250 Testa Rossa (TR/61) entered by local Ferrari dealer Chinetti's North American Racing Team. Stirling has described the NART pit work at this meeting as chaotic and the car was disqualified for refuelling too early. The long delayed disqualification robbed Innes and Moss of victory, they were leading by two laps when they were eventually black-flagged. That was to be Stirling's last endurance sports car race, for he would soon suffer his career ending Goodwood crash. It was to this fateful Sussex meeting that Innes had driven up from Modena, in the new pale green UDT 250GTO (3505GT). The car in which he and Moss were due to attack the coming season. A journey that Innes has described as the most memorable drive of his life.

The Goodwood crash put paid to Moss's Ferrari plans and also the promising partnership with Ireland. A Sharknose 156 did turn-up at the Silverstone International Trophy meeting complete with Scuderia mechanics and technicians for Innes to drive, a tribute to Moss it was said at the time. Innes found a car with a superb gearbox, a V6 engine that no longer matched the power of the V8 Climax and poor handling that the Scot put down to the flexing of the spoked Borrani wheels. Fourth place was a good result for a machine that could no longer compete with the green cars.

Innes carried on without Moss in car 3505, retiring after fifteen hours at Le Mans while in seventh place and ending the European season with a memorable victory in the Tourist Trophy, a race that was won with a chassis still bent from a practice crash.

That winter Innes drove another 250GTO, the Texan Rosebud team's 3589GT in the Nassau races, a third place in the Nassau TT being soon overshadowed by his victory in the Governor's Trophy race in Rosebud's Lotus19. Innes continued to drive the Rosebud Ferrari in 1963, an early crash at Daytona being followed by a sixth place (third in Class) at Sebring with Ritchie Ginther as co-pilot. An experiment with a Ferrari engine in Rosebud's Lotus 19 nearly put paid to Innes that Fall. The Scot crashing into a marshall's car which had been foolishly parked in an escape road during practice for the NW Pacific GP in Seattle.

A long and no doubt painful recovery saw Innes back for the 1964 season, where he drove Ferraris for Colonel Ronnie Hoare's Maranello Concessionaires team. Let Innes describe that first outing at the Nurburgring for the Colonel's equipe:

"I tore out of the pits in a crescendo of noise and spinning wheels, glancing briefly over my shoulder. Up through the gears and away, for the first time at the 'Ring I felt free and confident as I chased after the leaders.

Although the 330P was more of a handful, more skitterish, more sensitive and more unforgiving than the 250GTO, it was also faster, more urgent in its voice, more challenging and even more exciting. But still it gave a wonderful feeling of security, that it wouldn't suddenly do anything nasty.

We fairly flew through the twists and turns, a touch of the brakes here and there, a flick of the steering wheel to point her at the apex of the next corner, then lots of throttle and a touch of opposite as we screeched past the earth bankings and trees as one, clipping them as if they didn't exist. Oh, the total joy and exhilaration of such moments, for they happen but seldom. The Foxhole held none of the usual terrors as we hurtled steeply downhill through its curves, foot hard down, flat out in fifth. The Flugplatz was an exciting anticipation of the moment of landing when a flick of the wheel took her round the following right-hander on full song without going anywhere near the brake pedal, Control and rhythm seemed to be absolute as we swallowed up the gap on those in front, that wonderful V12 engine willingly and happily revving its heart out on the long straight, the exhaust note bliss in my ears. Still we closed passing first one, then the leader and we were out in front. And still the rhythm flowed; we pulled away and left them behind and it was almost as if they weren't there at all. There was only that magical Ferrari and me living out a dream just for our own enjoyment. We sang in the wind and nothing could touch us."

Like his career, Innes's occasional Ferrari drives finally petered out, a sixth place at Le Mans in 1964, a sixth place in the 1965 Monza 1000KM race, and finally, an outing at Daytona in 1966 in the Drummond Racing Organisation's 250LM.

Who knows how Innes's career might have turned out if the petrol contracts had allowed him to join the Scuderia in 1962 as some had hoped. Enzo Ferrari would surely have approved of Innes's tigerish driving, but would Innes have found fulfillment in Modena's political arena. In any case it wasn't to be. Oh and the title of this piece? The words spoken by Enzo Ferrari after he jumped on the brakes at 125 MPH on the occasion in 1962 when he took an ashen-faced Innes out for a spin in a little baby prototype, the distant forefather of the Dino 246.

Lucy O'Reilly

Nazi Germany's sporting reversals have become the stuff of legend, Jesse Owens' slap in the face for Aryan supremacy at the Berlin Olympics of 1936 and Joe Louis' first round stoppage of Max Schmeling at Yankee Stadium in 1938.

In the field of motor sport such reverses were few and far between, as Mercedes and Auto Union took Grand Prix racing to a new level. Of course there was Nuvolari's 1935 victory in an Alfa Romeo at the German Grand Prix, of all places - but that could be seen as a victory for Adolf's pal Mussolini. No, the victory of a privately entered Delahaye over Caracciola's works Mercedes in the Pau Grand Prix of 1938 must have been a singular blow to Nazi pride, especially given the fact that the French car was piloted by a Jew called Dreyfus.

The Delahaye was run by the Ecurie Bleue, a racing team set up by French-American heiress Lucy O'Reilly. In one of those examples where misinformation gets repeated, you are likely to read that Lucy was the Dublin born daughter of an American millionaire, who, having met her husband Laury Schell while on the grand tour, moved to France where she became an amateur rallyist and racing driver of some note. Infact Lucy was born at Brunoy, near Paris on 26th October 1896, the daughter of a French mother and, yes, an American millionaire father. The truth is that when Lucy first visited the United States during the Great War, she spoke very little English.

Frustrated in her attempts to get French backing for her Delahaye project, Lucy moved her team to Monte Carlo and purchased Maseratis. In 1940 Lucy sent Ecurie Bleue on a daring voyage from war torn Europe to compete in the Indianapolis 500, sailing from Genoa on the ocean liner Conte di Savoia. Despite blowing up one of their cars in practice, drivers Dreyfus and Le Begue shared a creditable tenth place in the race, hampered at every turn by a complete failure to understand the American racing rulebook.

Accompanying Ecurie Bleue on this American adventure was Lucy's son Harry Schell, who continued to race for the team after the war, later becoming one of the leading Grand Prix drivers until his death at Silverstone in 1960. Lucy herself died in 1952.

Merry Christmas

As far as I can see this is the one and only Tony ac Aloma video on Youtube. How can that be? Now if these kids had come from Alabama instead of Anglesey ....... You have to doubt the vitality of the Welsh language culture when no-one bothers to put the laid back genius of Tony ac Aloma on the video sharing websites.

Whatever, Merry Christmas to readers near and far.

Llanhir or Llanllyr?

The Radnorshire Society want the authorities to use Llanhir instead of Llanllŷr yn Rhos, as the official Welsh language version of Llanyre.

I've always accepted the explanation given in various books that the name was originally Llanllyr and that the internal LL was dropped quite naturally, in the same way that Cardiganshire's Llanllwchaearn became Llanychaearn. Attempts to popularise Llanhir version I've seen as a misguided attempt to correct a supposed anglicism in the speech of Radnorians.

The Radnorshire Society, however, make a good case for doubting the authenticity of Llanllyr, resting as it does on a single reference in a document of 1566. I've also come across a confused 18C references in Cary's map of 1794 (see illustration) which is probably built on the sand of William Owen Pughe's map of 1788.

But what about Llanhir. The Society see this originating from Llwynhir, as in the farm name Dol Llwyn Hir - which Radnorians, even in Welsh speaking times, would probably have called Dolwner - the change from Llwyn to Llan being quite a common occurrence in farm names. However the archaeologists tell us that there is a llan (early medieval church enclosure) in Llanyre, so why the need to find a Llwyn when you have a Llan on the ground?

What the Radnorshire Society and your blogger both agree on is that the local pronunciation is old and Welsh. I missed the fact that Ffransis Payne used the form Llanhir but the two examples of bardic poetry he quotes in Crwydro Sir Faesyfed use the form Llan-ur, rhyming with dolur and eglur. The Society place a good deal of faith in the occasional use of Llanhir and its variants in various 19C Censuses, but it is a usage that the 16C bards seem to have missed.

All in all I accept the fragility of the case for Llanllyr but remain unconvinced by Llanhir. What is plain is that the local pronunciation is the most historically attested form of the name, no matter how you spell it.

Innes and Chunky

An engineer himself, Radnorshire based F1 driver Innes Ireland had a high opinion of Lotus boss Colin Chapman's engineering ability: "If he was not a genius then he was bloody close to being one."

At the same time he can have had few illusions about the safety of the Lotus Formula One cars. Indeed Mike Taylor successfully sued Lotus for negligence when the steering column of his 18 broke in the ill-fated 1960 Belgian Grand Prix.

One of the Lotus mechanics of the time recalled those early days:

"Surely Innes Ireland must rate as the most unfairly treated driver of all time. History often can only relate to what the hacks and anoraks see or read for themselves; yet behind the scenes, the breakages that occurred in those days defied belief. Chassis breakages apart, no end of "minor disasters such as automatically disengaging gear ratios, total brake failure etc. were encountered by our drivers, who within a day or two were out in the same car 'hoping' that things would improve!"

"Once the Lotus 18 arrived things changed dramatically as we all see from the records, so I think it is unfair to dismiss the likes of 'MacGregor' when the torrid times that he, Cliff, Graham and Alan went through in the preceding 3 years were never experienced by the then up and coming drivers who enjoyed the benefits of Chapman's greatest reversal, rear-engined cars!"

John Surtees was one of those up and coming drivers and he recalled the incident that caused him to quit Lotus:

"Colin said to me, "John - you're my Number One and you can have your choice of team-mate, Innes or Jim."
"I don't know," I said. "I've had so many mechanical failures that I'm getting a bit suspicious of your green cars."
"Then we'll paint 'em black!" said Colin, and he prepared a contract giving me choice of second driver and saying that the cars would be painted black."

"I told him that I would like Jim Clark as my number two, as I got on well with him, but then a few days later Innes Ireland called me from Paris. He told me that he had a contract for 1960 and '61 which stated that he had choice of team-mate! "What the hell is going on?" he wanted to know."

I went to see Colin."It's not true." he said, "I've got no arrangement at all with Innes. We're fixing him up with the British Racing Partnership."

"Innes still insisted that he had everything in writing, so I fixed another meeting with Chapman, taking Innes with me. He brought his contract, which said exactly what he claimed, but Colin just shrugged the whole thing off, so I said "I'm sorry, but that's it" and I walked out."

Given the unenviable safety record of Chapman's cars perhaps Colin was hedging his bets. The chances of both Innes and Surtees surviving the 1960 season were not that good. Enzo Ferrari is often condemned for playing on the rivalries of his drivers, but at least his cars were safe!

Innes was still the Number One driver at Lotus at the time of his sacking in 1961, and this despite his serious crash in the Monaco Grand Prix, a fact recognized by Jabby Crombac in his semi-official biography of Chapman. "There was no doubt that sacking Ireland was rather a controversial decision because, at the time Innes was still a little faster than his less experienced team mate Jim Clark."

It was not a decision that Chapman could bring himself to convey to Innes face to face. Cedric Selzer, another Team Lotus mechanic confirmed, "The big problem was that everyone, except Innes, knew that he wasn't going to be retained."

Why was Innes sacked? Some like Trevor Taylor believe it was purely a matter of cash, for Innes was on 50% of starting money, while Taylor, his replacement, was only on 25%. Most likely Innes had upset Esso's Geoff Murdoch by giving up his car to BP driver Stirling Moss for the Italian Grand Prix at Monza, when Stirling still had a chance of winning the 1961 World Championship for Rob Walker's team.

Maybe Innes was sacked because of the commonly held belief, repeated by Mike Lawrence in his eagerly awaited but disappointing biography of Chapman, that Innes sometimes turned up on the grid worse the wear for drink. Innes, who is never anything but painfully honest in his writings denied that he ever arrived on raceday with a hangover. Certainly if Innes was outdriving Clark while over the breathalyser limit then he must have been quite a driver when sober! The suggestion is clearly nonsense.

Finally we have to recognize the potential of Clark and Chapman's recognition of what was still an unfulfilled promise in 1961. Perhaps there was no single reason why Chapman sacked Ireland, it was a combination of things - the money, the grievances of the sponsors, Innes's feisty personality and Clark's more malleable nature. It was a poor reward for all that Innes had done to set the marque on the road to success.