No Time for Goodbye by Linwood Barclay.

 

No Time for Goodbye is a "thriller" novel written by Canadian author Linwood Barclay.

Married and with a daughter of her own, it has been twenty five years since her family vanished without a trace but Cynthia Archer has never given up hope that they might one day all return and, as a result, has not been able to bring herself to move out of the town that she grew up in. Just in case. When a reality television show offers to go over the events of that fateful night, taking Cynthia back to her childhood home, she jumps at the chance. What if a television special jogs somebody's memory? What if her parents and brother are still alive and see it?

When the show airs and nothing more than a few cranks and side-show freaks come out of the woodwork, Cynthia begins to give in to despair. Then the 'messages' begin to appear, followed by strange phone calls and the feeling that she is very definitely being followed. Is this just a strange coincidence or could someone know something about that night? Is there someone shadowing Cynthia and her family or is she just so desperate to discover the truth, that her mind is playing tricks on her?

Points made by the group were:-

 This book does have some page turning quality, but any hint of excitement at the mystery unfolding was completely overshadowed by the terribly poorly executed and unbelievable narrative.

 There was no connection to the characters or their stories.

 The story is told by the husband, Terry and he is quite possibly the most uninteresting character. Dry, drab and monotone in his dialogue where any hint of feeling is executed in a cliche and considered fashion. There were points where it was exasperating because of the terrible writing, considering he was an English language teacher.

 What lies at the heart of the mystery is totally ridiculous and unbelievable.

 The tone slips. When Vince comes on stage, we move from creepiness to slapstick

 The reason the ending is surprising is because it's improbable not because it's surprising.

 

The storyline did, I suppose, have some merit as the book was finished by all members of the group despite the painful narrative. However nothing about it was actually believable. I understand thrillers often are not of the truthful nature, but I feel that no character was developed enough for the reader to understand motive or action. We only gave the book a 3 out of a possible10.

As usual we spent the remainder of the evening enjoying tea, coffee and cake provided by Helen.

 

 



 

Garway Hill

Garway Hill

The walk started in Kentchurch near a lodge gate and we were going to be following part of the Herefordshire trail, which meanders the Wales/England border. Nearby Kentchurch Court is a stately home which has been in the Scudamore family for over 1000 years. There is a deer park plus extensive gardens and which are open to the public during summer months. Ralph Scudamore (recorded in the area in 1042) is mentioned in the Doomsday Book, a Norman stonemason he was employed by Edward the Confessor to build the castle in Ewyas Harold.

Travelling north we passed through farm land. Two quite isolated glamping huts were on our route, each had a main hut containing sleeping and dining spaces, with a separate bathroom across a stretch of wooden decking. Surrounded by woodland they looked cosy and even had a BBQ area.

We spotted a vineyard, walked through a huge field of oil seed rape (gone to seed), a crop of peas and then the distinctive heaped up rows of a potato field.

Next we found an outdoor gym and one person volunteered to demonstrate his skills – particularly impressive when walking across narrow branches.

We arrived at a road and travelled along it towards Cross Llyde and Bagwyllydiart in an easterly direction cutting off a corner of the Herefordshire trail. Rejoining the trail we passed under Garway hill crossing Garway hill Common in a southerly direction towards White Rock.

At White Rock we turned northwest in the general direction of Kentchurch. We took in a view of the River Monnow where we passed a footbridge – a plaque in the centre of the bridge remembers Marius Gray, a chartered accountant, who served on the boards of the Daily Mail and a number of health charities he was made CVO in 2011.

An avenue of limes lined the road to a pet crematorium at Barton hill with a delightful stream nearby.

This was a relaxing late spring walk through lovely countryside. Views in this area are excellent the Skirrid, Sugar loaf and the Black Mountains are all visible from Garway hill and, even though we didn’t climb to the top, we enjoyed the panorama.

We had achieved 7¾ miles and 1100ft.

 

 



 

Llanbradach and Ystrad Mynach

Llanbradach and Ystrad Mynach

We started in Llanbradach on a cloudy morning, after a night of thunderstorms, but the forecast was for a dry day. We crossed the railway and climbed through the woods to the west of Llanbradach. On the side of the path were large benches made from stone, placed there by the Llanbradach Community Council some of them having dedications to late council members.

As we climbed further a mist started to surround us and then we entered the clouds. Fir trees, soaked from heavy rain last night, edged the path and brushed against us as we walked. Even though we wore gaiters, trouser legs were soon wet and to some extent our arms. Still it was pleasant to walk in the mist in warm weather.

Emerging onto the open common we found rubbish dumped in many places spoiling the area. A field of cows was invisible until we were very close to them but plants were clear – a lovely rowan in full bloom, and gorgeous yellow gorse and irises.

A wide track was packed with stones and after we’d walked a while we heard a lorry coming – it was bringing hardcore up the track and dumping it to lengthen the reinforced section.

Until now we had resisted putting on our waterproofs as we were sure the weather was improving and we’d soon dry out but suddenly the rain fell heavily so we put jackets on. Our route headed northwest across Nant Cwm Sarn. To the east there were slag heaps appearing and disappearing in the gloom, and then the clouds parted a little and we could see a pair of pyramid shaped hills.

The rain hadn’t eased off as we continued across the moor following a wall in the hope it would protect us a little. Water had begun to trickle inside gaiters and down into our boots as the wind blew harder. It was time to accept that the weather was set for the day and don our waterproof trousers.

Our path continued through a high sided green lane so we decided to stop and eat lunch while we had some shelter from the elements. We had passed our highest point of the day and looked forward to less climbing in the second half of the walk as we continued east towards Ystrad Mynach and then down the Rhymney valley back towards Llanbradach.

Unfortunately, the footpath down the valley was severely overgrown with brambles and bracken and after making slow progress we decided to try and climb above the blockage. This took a while but proved to be a good decision. We approached another green lane, access was again difficult but we climbed down onto it, now our way was clear and we made good time back to Llanbradach. At last we were below the cloud and could see the river in the valley and lakes which looked like fishing ponds.

We had walked 9 miles and climbed 1200ft. Apart from the overgrown stretch it was a good walk but the views, which would have been good, were totally hidden by the clouds an unlucky day but still very enjoyable.

 

 



 

MAX BOYCE ONLY KNEW HALF THE STORY..

MAX BOYCE ONLY KNEW HALF THE STORY..

BBC Wales has recently started showing a series of programmes about Wales in the 1990’s and I wondered whether it might be of interest to relate some of my own experiences of working in Human Resources (H.R) during that period?

You might remember the Wales Development Agency and how it set out to attract Japanese investment into the Valleys during the 90’s? In fact, Max Boyce referred to it in one of his songs: “…….me Welsh-speaking Japanee”?

At the time, it was highly desirable to be able to add employment by a Japanese company to your c.v and I was lucky enough (as I thought then) to be recruited by a Japanese investor setting up a “green field” manufacturing operation in the Gwent Valleys. I was the first Brit they had employed and it turned out to be a steep learning curve and culture shock for all concerned.

I’ll skip over the initial period of working from serviced offices in Cathedral Road and the commissioning, recruitment, training and general liaison with everyone from the Secretary of State for Wales to the local milkman and just list some of the idiosyncrasies which you might find thought-provoking…….

The four Japanese who had been seconded to the U.K to set up the operation had obviously not had any briefing about British culture or working methods and were expecting an autocratic management style to work as well in Wales as it did in Japan. What they had not expected was the wit and wiliness of the Welsh workforce, coming, as they did, from a steel-working area. This caused endless frustration and annoyance to all concerned at the time, but with hindsight was akin to being part of a Laurel & Hardy film.

The Japanese M.D spoke no English (we employed a dedicated interpreter and bought English/Japanese dictionaries to point to) and was about 5’ 4” tall – with all the characteristics usually attributed to a “little man”. These are some of his best moments:

It was expected that the workforce would wear uniforms of white jacket and trousers and a navy blue baseball cap. This requirement was honoured more in the breach than in the observance and caused the M.D endless concern. However, we “early joiners” were told that safety footwear was not to be worn until the rest of the uniforms had been supplied. The baseball caps were to be made of the cheapest available material but managers should require the workforce to wear them to protect their heads.

British employees were only to use the Conference room for meetings if they used the end without windows as the part with windows was only for use by the Japanese. Similarly, visitors must be seated with their backs to the windows.

The Security Company were not allowed to have a Master key as they could not be trusted and the (British) Engineering Manager –a keyholder for day-to-day security – was not allowed on site at weekends to perform any maintenance work unless a Japanese person was also present.

Individual elements of a cleaning contract were approved by the M.D but, once consolidated into a single document were rejected as being too expensive. In a similar episode, the M.D personally negotiated rates with a distribution company. Two months later, the British Production Manager was required to find savings on these rates. The Production Manager was not allowed to put machinery in the front 15 metres of the shopfloor so that the M.D could stand at the front to see if everyone was working. On another occasion, the M.D was caught hiding in a cubicle of the Ladies toilet as he was checking that nobody was loitering after their lunch break.

The H.R function was expected to “police” all this despite having been told that employees wishing to learn to use company computer spreadsheets (as part of their job) could do so after normal working hours but without pay. The Travel policy, outlining daily subsistence allowances was to be kept secret and a training course for machine operators on a new piece of prime manufacturing equipment (which cost £80,000 including training) was vetoed as hotel costs for the two trainees was prohibitive. I was actually told “we do not provide training as we are not a charity”.

Perhaps the most notable idiosyncrasy – and the one which finally convinced me that it was time to move on – was the edict that in order to reduce the number of defects detected in parts supplied by the Japanese parent company they were no longer to be checked.

The other side of the coin, however, was the gently subversive attitude of the Welsh workforce. By and large these alien requirements (in every sense) were met with tolerance and amusement and the rather bombastic approach of the M.D seemed to invoke what can only be imagined as being similar to the “blitz spirit”. The highlight was possibly the occasion on which the M.D – who had refused to grit the car park due to the expense involved – slipped on the ice and fell heavily. This caused considerable merriment and a very un-PC voice was heard to mutter “there’s a nip in the air this morning”

It was always “good value” to listen to the Valley employees in the canteen. At the time, John West were running a television advert featuring a cartoon bear. The (deadpan) conversation went:

Employee A: Did you know that Keith thinks the John West bear is real?

Employee B: No. Where is Keith, anyway?

Employee A: Writing to Santa

Other “gems” included:

When a flock of sheep wandered onto the site: “That’s Ceri’s girlfriend looking for him”

I had to drive home. I was too drunk to walk

John has had an outside toilet built for his new house. He thought it would be nice in the summer

“XYZ Ltd” has got 140,000 employees”. Pause. “Think of the queue in the canteen”

This was more than 20 years ago, now – but I’d be prepared to bet that the BBC’s “Wales in the 90’s” series doesn’t tell this side of the story….

 

 



 

Wenvoe

The progress of Wenvoe


I took a stroll the other day,
And passing Wenvoe on my way
Was pleased to see such progress made,
As it is always good for trade.
I mean the village is so changed,
New houses built and well arranged,
The gardens and the walks so clean,
Which proves that some one lives within.
Ten years ago this village look'd dilapidated,
And men forsook the place,
And went to other soil
To get their bread by honest toil.
But now its progress is so great,
New houses built in every street,
That every man can work who will
According to his strength and skill.
Tis quite a treat for those who ride,
In brakes and traps to the seaside,
To pass this place, with meadows fair,
And peace and beauty everywhere.
The Church is getting much too small
To seat the people when they all
Come as they ought on Sunday there,
To spend the time in praise and prayer.
The tower is low, it has no pride,
But scaffolding now stands by its side,
And workmen soon will point its face
And raise its head to grace the place.


                  J.B.


Barry Dock News, 21st July 1893

 

 

Reflecting on the change and development of Wenvoe since 1893 you may wish to consider the poem's relevance to the village as it is today

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



All The Light We Cannot see” by Anthony Doerr

All The Light We Cannot see” by Anthony Doerr 

"This is a magnificent, deeply moving novel from a writer whose sentences never fail to thrall" The Guardian.

Remarkably our whole group concurred with this quotation and during our discussion we ran out of superlatives to describe this brilliantly written book. The story is set in Nazi Germany where we follow the story of Werner Pfenning during his years in an orphanage with his sister Jutta and subsequently, having displayed exceptional talent for wiring electronics Werner wins a place at an elite but brutal academy for the training of The Hitler Youth. It is at the academy that he befriends Frederick who as a gentle character is bullied and finally brutalised.

Doerr cleverly intertwines Werner’s life with the story of a blind girl, Marie — Laure and her father, who live originally in Paris from where during the Nazi Occupation they flee to her uncle’s home in Saint Malo. Her father is deported to a work camp in Germany and she is left behind during the intense bombing of Saint Malo following the D Day landings. Doerr’s commitment to detail to the travails of a blind youngster surviving the difficulties of relocating to a new area is quite remarkable and the group felt that her character gave us an insight into life for so many people in Europe in the later stages of the Second World War. It is in Saint Malo that the paths of the two main characters collide as they both struggle to survive the devastation of the war.

The only detrimental part of the story was Doerr’s over use of Americanisms and perhaps owing to an overuse of adjectives the book may be over long. Ten years in the writing this book deserved to win The Pulitzer Prize and having awarded the book ten out of ten we would recommend it as a real page turner.

As usual we concluded our meeting with great hospitality and superb ginger cake!

Wentwood Forest & Tretower

Parc Seymour and Wentwood Forest

Today our walk took us from Parc Seymour to Wentwood northeast of Newport.

There was a cold wind and it felt like winter again. But there’s only one word to describe this walk ‘Bluebells‘! We headed southeast and on the road passed a neat woodland, a donkey and a group of beautiful horses. Then a little later we spotted a couple of shire horses ploughing in a field of bluebells. Now we followed the lane northeast and a field of bluebells appeared on our right stretching into the distance. We couldn’t help but stop and take photos and Misty (a dog) frolicked. We walked amongst them for ages, they were so thick that even the lane was covered in them and we were unable to walk without treading on them. We emerged into woodland which had been cut back hard and replanted.

Heading west we passed Hill farm and then went northwest towards Cross Green. Now picking a zigzag trail travelling generally westwards through Wentwood forest.

We soon found a tree known as the ‘Curly Oak’ an old tree which has split down the middle so that you can walk through its trunk.

The woodland was filled with English bluebells so that we were surrounded. Trees of beech and oak were in new leaf and the lime green and yellowy tones provided a perfect counterfoil to the purple blue of the bluebells. We just drank the colour in, wonderful. Unfortunately because it was cold there was little scent from the bluebells, just a waft now and again.

We came down alongside Bertholau Graig in a southerly direction and as we came out of the wood could see the Bristol Channel in the distance. The colours of the trees here were reminiscent of autumn there was so much yellow. Our route now travelled west until we met a road where we turned south.

We passed an old farmhouse with a dilapidated VW van and as we continued saw at least 20 abandoned old cars and farm vehicles on the property. We entered a large field where a herd of bullocks took some interest in Misty but eventually ran off uphill. Back at Parc Seymour we saw 2 carved wooden chairs on the green one dedicated to the AD and the other AD2000.

We had walked 8½miles and 1100ft. Map 152/OL14

Tretower

We started at the Cadw site in Tretower on a lovely Spring morning.

Tretower is the site of a medieval fortified manor house and castle. The Picards and Vaughans were influential Welsh families who created sumptuous accommodation reflecting their high status as Welsh gentry. The Vaughans left in the 18thC and Tretower Court became a working farm. It is an interesting site and Cadw have created a suite of rooms as they may have been in 1470.

Tretower is on the Agincourt Wales trail which tells the story of the people and places across the region that played a role in Henry V’s famous victory. It starts at Trecastle and visits Brecon, Tretower, Abergavenny, Raglan, Monmouth and St Briavels before ending at Caldicot.

Having seen Table mountain and Sugarloaf in the distance we set off walking south east towards Cwm-gu and then northeast to Cwm. We were soon high over Tretower and had an excellent view of the castle.

On the moor land we followed the Beacons Way and soon realised why it’s so called as we spotted Pen y Fan and its neighbours to the west. After reaching Cwm we headed generally northeast towards Llewenau Draw and Llewenau.

We were delighted to hear a cuckoo at 3 separate times and then spotted it flying across the valley, confirmed as the sound of its call came from behind us now. Unusually the hawthorn trees in this area had mistletoe growing on them.

A flock of sheep (mostly ewes with their lambs) were grazing ahead of us on the path and as we arrived they kept moving ahead of us despite the fact that there was a large open hillside above. Eventually most of them moved to the side but still some continued until we stopped for lunch when they ‘gratefully‘ stopped for a good munch of the grass.

 

 

At lunch we sat on the hillside and gazed at the vast range of mountains around us. Then we noticed a large bird swoop into the field below; it had a distinctive red glow and black markings on its wings; the forked tail confirmed that it was a red kite. We watched as it swooped to ground level and back up again, all the time working its way down the valley. Wow!

Continuing towards Llewenau we could see the Dragonsback mountain ahead of us and as we got closer spotted the iron hill fort which forms the dragon’s head. We turned southwest towards Cil-helyg.

This walk had been designed with the aim of visiting an ancient oak tree which had been found last year. According to the ancient register of trees it is possibly the oldest in South Wales. Now as we walked along a country lane most of us walked straight past it while distracted by a horse in the opposite field. The tree is huge (its trunk must have a diameter of about 12ft) and awe inspiring.

At Cil-helyg we turned north for a while before heading towards Cwmdu and picking up a path leading in a generally southerly direction towards Tretower.

What a wonderful walk full of the awe which nature inspires.

The walk was 7.5miles and 1400ft. Map OL13

The Last Anniversary by Liane Moriarty

 

The Last Anniversary by Liane Moriarty

The Doughty Family lives on the oddly named Scribbly Gum Island, a short ferry ride from Sydney Australia, and so called after the Scribbly Gum Eucalyptus trees that grow there.

The Island and the family becomes famous because 70 years previously, teenage sisters Connie and Rose Doughty had found an abandoned baby girl whose parents Alice and Jack Munro had mysteriously vanished. It created a media sensation which captivated Australians, and turned sleepy Scribbly Gum Island into a tourist attraction offering guided tours, cream teas, souvenirs and a carnival atmosphere. In time both Rose and the baby, who had been named Enigma, get married and have children and eventually grandchildren. The dynasty which becomes very wealthy but rather inward looking is held on a tight reign by matriarch Connie. The scene changes when Connie dies and bequeaths her beautiful home to Sophie Honeywell, an outsider, who she had met just twice. Family infighting starts and traditions begin to unravel.

The book was given a high score and enjoyed by one member. Another thought it readable and interesting as alongside the saga of the unconventional Doughty Clan, Moriarty allows us a peep into their thoughts, fantasies and secrets, giving us a somewhat surreal understanding of their characters.

However, this was not the opinion of the majority of the group who variously claimed it to be boring, written for teenagers, compared to an Enid Blyton children’s adventure story, naïve, rubbish, lightweight, predictable, with characters floating around disconnectedly. The average score was a miserable of 3 out of 10.

The evening was sweetened with a lovely fresh raspberry tart.

April Walks

 

Margam Park:- We parked next to the lake just outside Margam Park and made our way along the main track towards the deer park. Marshals stood near a stream, there was a run across the park and the runners were expected to go through this stream not once but twice; good job we were only walking!

We followed a woodland edge emerging onto the Ogwr Ridgeway walk and entering more open countryside we saw people doing the run. One circuit involved carrying a tyre uphill and over a high A frame before returning downhill. Continuing upwards, more obstacles appeared including a water slide (that looked good fun until you slid off the end onto rough ground) and a high-sided box. Far below we could see the starting point.

As we climbed we turned back to see Port Talbot steel works in the distance, a herd of deer were outlined on the hill in the foreground. There were a number of places where food had been put out for the deer and invariably nearby were ‘deer toilets’ trudging through one of these was not a pleasant experience!

Turning right we entered the forest to the north of Moel Ton-Mawr and spotted frog spawn aplenty – in any available water. Below was a clearing in the woodland where scrambler bikes raced, we stood well clear when they passed us . We continued in the forest for some time turning west northwest to cross the Ogwr Ridgeway walk.

We were almost at the high point of our walk as we emerged to the edge of the wood, a keen wind blew and it started to rain heavily. Icy needles hammered into exposed skin and many of us put up umbrellas for a bit of shelter. As the rain stopped we made our way into the wood for lunch but there was no shelter from the wind; it was like winter again.

Now we were making our way, on good tracks, generally downhill and westwards to Craig Cwm Maelwg and southwest to Crugwyllt-fawr. There were good views of the steel works and we could clearly see flames as well as great plumes of steam, one of which seemed to be the face of a plump faced man. At one point a large amount of hay was piled with old farm machinery. Loose hay was caught in wire and blew in the strong wind making an unusually picturesque fence.

Our track led to a farm and a friendly woman chatted to us . We headed uphill to the ruin of a chapel, and then down to the cars passing spring daffodils and primroses. [The walk was 8.2 miles and 1350ft. Map 165/166]

Tylorstown Tip:- It was a glorious sunny day. The ancient parish of Llanwonno is thought to date from the 6th century when St Gwynno founded the church here. We set off making a quick visit to the grave of Guto Nyth Bran (Griffith Morgan), he was able to run 7 miles to Pontypridd and back before the kettle boiled. Every New Year’s eve his legend is celebrated in the Nos Galon race from Mountain Ash.

We headed southwest through woodland to emerge into open countryside with Tylorstown tip (an old mining spoil tip) standing proudly to our right. We headed to it and a few people opted to wait at its foot while most of us climbed to the summit. Here we were joined by scrambler bikes roaring up its steep sides. The views down the valleys were excellent. As we descended, one of the scramblers followed us down a steep gully and we scrambled up the side out of his way.

Now the group continued in a north-westerly direction through woodland to Carn y Pigwn where we turned east to arrive at the river feeding the Clydach reservoir. Followed the river southeast and gently downwards to the reservoir where we stopped for lunch. Continuing down the valley we could hear water below us and took a slight detour to descend to a waterfall (Pistyll goleu); very refreshing.

Climbing back to our path we took the track along the course of the river now travelling northwest until we found a footpath on our right leading directly to the road back to the cars (and the pub): some took a short cut along the road while the rest of us continued into St Gwynno forest turning southeast in the direction of Mynachdy.

There were wind turbines on the hill and we had some fun taking photos with the blades apparently emerging from people’s heads. We passed a farm with sheep and new born lambs as well as young bullocks, goats and a llama. We climbed past fields with expectant ewes and ewes with their lambs.

Now it was a short way back, passing above the official scrambler site, to the cars where our friends greeted us. [We had walked 8.25miles and 1400ft. Map 166]

History of a Wenvoe Farmer – Part 2

 

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF TOWYN WILLIAMS – CONTINUED

Towyn went to Rhoose Primary School and joined the school choir which came second in an Eisteddfod in Cardiff. After 12 months in Rhoose School Towyn moved to the Grammar School in Barry. He left when he was 14 – Towyn said he did not so much as leave, he just stopped going and it was the happiest day in his life. Towyn worked at home for his father at Ford Farm and at this time he became interested in bell ringing at Llancarfan church until he became less keen when the Vicar suggested that he came to church!.

In June 1946 Towyn saw an advert in a London paper inviting farmworkers to work on the land in Canada. Encouraged by the stories of Towyn's parents, on September 8th he sailed for Canada on the S.S.Moralgia with his friend Jim Bryer, They travelled by train to London, flew from Notrtholt, put down in Shannon then to Gander in Newfoundland. Stopped for 6 hours for an engine change then to Toronto. The long last leg was without food or drink supplied – there were no Air Hostesses on this long and tedious journey.

Towyn worked on a dairy farm near Lyndsey, Ontario, before moving on to a lumber camp with Jim. They worked with all nationalities, including indians.. A day's work would be to walk three miles through three foot of snow, cut down 60 trees using a cross cut saw – no chain saws then.Jim and Towyn had Xmas dinner on a farm about 80 miles from the lumber camp. To return they caught a bus to Whittin about 15 miles from the camp. They decided to walk hoping to get a lift from a passing motorist. They were out of luck.When they were within a mile from the camp they heard and saw a pack of wolves behind them. Not daring to stop they kept going. Later the older men at the camp told them if they had stopped to rest that would have been the 'end of them'. They were so tired and frightened that it took them a week to recover.

Jim continued to work at the lumber camp until 1938 when he came home to work on a farm near Swindon. Towyn stayed on in Canada moving out west to Saskatchewan. The following Spring Towyn left Ontario to work on the Priaries in Saskatchewan He worked on the Homestead that his father had left 25 years previously. The Homestead now belonged to another family. Everything here was big. Huge tractors were used to plough fields a mile long and it was difficult to keep awake while discing and ploughing.

Towyn had the chance of a trip home on a cattle boat, from Montreal to Manchester. Living conditions onboard were primitive. His quarters were at the stern of the ship and it was quite peaceful – when the propeller occasionally stopped ! There were 250 cattle on board, heifers in calf to be placed on farms all over the country.

In September 1950 Towyn married Audrey Taylor of Leach Farm near Carmel Chapel. They lived in a wooden bungalow just up the road from Ford Farm where Towyn continued to work for his father.

In 1953 Towyn took on Ballas Farm, Wenvoe where he stayed for the next 30 years bringing up his family – three girls and a boy. By 1978 Towyn, tired of milking 120 cows a day, decided to make a change. He sold the herd and bought Whitehall Farm near St. Lythans. Whitehall Farm brought a new adventure open to the public – Pick your Own fruit. He planted raspberries, strawberries, gooseberries. red and black currants with a back-up of potatoes and broad beans. This is what Towyn and Audrey did for the next 20 years finally concentrating on stabling and feeding around 15 ponies. At almost 80 he remained the 'hands on' farmer very attached to his old tractor.

Towyn's interests outside of farming included membership of the 'Glamorgan Flying Club'.After obtaining his pilot's license around 1960 he flew a number of single engined aircraft including a Tiger Moth. The cost when he started was £3 an hour and when inflation rose to over £20 an hour, and with the price of milk falling something had to give.

In the late 70's Towyn's brother, Edward, was exporting various breeds of horses to New Zealand and asked Towyn to help to look after 50 horses on a cargo plane. Towyn eagerly accepted the opportunity to meet up with his son Gareth who was working there at the time. The flight took him via Anchorage in Hawaii to Auckland, New Zealand. Towyn enjoyed flying as a passenger and flew across the Atlantic 39 times visiting Canada, U.S.A., Norway, Denmark, Holland, Belgium, France, Germany, Spain , Portugal, Poland (a farm visit) and Ireland. He had also sat in Concorde, been up in a balloon, and flown a helicopter with an instructor.

Towyn's varied and interesting life came to an end peacefully at Whitehall Farm on 14 August 2016 at the good age of 90.What a fascinating life!

 

 

Allan Jenkins (February 2017)

 

 

 

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