Category: General Interest Articles

Articles of general interest on no particular subject

Hiking And Biking With Richard Trevithick

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HIKING AND BIKING WITH RICHARD TREVITHICK

Of the delights to enjoy locally, the Taff Trail must surely be up there amongst the top and to this must be added the Trevithick Trail. The former covers a distance of some 54 miles from Cardiff Bay to Brecon and the latter some 7 miles from near Edwardsville to Merthyr Tydfil with some of that mileage co-incident. Both are mostly routed along former railbeds, canals and the like. This article is about the historical background of a five-mile section of both. But firstly, an introduction to Richard Trevithick and industry at this time, is called for.

Richard Trevithick (1771 – 1833) was a pioneering British engineer and inventor whose bold use of high-pressure steam transformed the possibilities of mechanical power at the turn of the nineteenth century. Born in 1771 in Cornwall which at the time was Britain’s most important tin and copper mining region. The mines were constantly threatened by flooding, and the demand for powerful pumping engines created an environment ripe for innovation. From an early age he was surrounded by the practical challenges of mining engineering. Although he received only a limited formal education he possessed exceptional mechanical insight and mathematical ability.

During Trevithick’s youth, steam engines were already in use, particularly those developed by Watt and Boulton. These engines operated using low-pressure steam and separate condensers, which made them efficient but large, complex, and protected by strict patents. Trevithick took a radically different approach. He believed that high-pressure steam, considered dangerous by many engineers of the time, could produce more compact, powerful engines,

By the late 1790s, Trevithick began constructing high-pressure steam engines for use in Cornish mines. They were smaller and lighter than Watt’s models and capable of generating greater power relative to their size. In 1801, he demonstrated one of his most famous creations, known as the “Puffing Devil,” a steam-powered road carriage.

Soon after, Trevithick was travelling and supplying his high-pressure steam engines far and wide. Witness some of his endeavours: London (for road transport and Thames Tunnel construction); Coalbrookdale (for a locomotive), Peru and Costa Rica (for pumping water from silver mines); a variety of maritime applications; and to South Wales which has been the precursor of this article.

Just a further step back in history. When the iron works in Merthyr Tydfil were first established in the mid-1700s, iron products were carried to the coast by pack animals for onward shipping. In 1790 the ironmasters and the 2nd Marquis of Bute promoted the construction of the Glamorganshire Canal between Merthyr and a sea lock to the south of Cardiff into the Bristol Channel. It was opened in 1795 But subsequent disputes between the iron masters led to a “plateway” also running from Merthyr and Cardiff, being partly constructed. The plateway had L shaped iron rails on which horse drawn wagons carried iron products and later coal. It reached as far south as Abercynon before agreements between the ironmasters were reached. It was however convenient to keep the plateway operating as far as Abercynon, from there cargo was transferred to barges on the canal for onward travel to the Cardiff sea lock for shipment by sea.

Back to Trevithick. In 1802 he built one of his high-pressure steam engines to power a forge hammer at the Penydarren Ironworks for Samuel Homfray, one of the iron masters (the others being Richard Crawshay and the Guests father and son). Homfray encouraged Trevithick to mount that engine on wheels in the hope that it would make a better locomotive than others that had been trialled elsewhere in Britain. Result: success!

Homfray was so impressed with Trevithick’s locomotive that he made a bet of 500 guineas with Crawshay that this locomotive could haul ten tons of iron along the tram way from Penydarren to Abercynon, a distance of some 10 miles. On 21 February 1804 this was achieved, hauling five wagons and 70 men the full distance in 4 hours and 5 minutes, at an average speed of 2.4 mph. Having proved the engine’s capability for locomotion, it returned to its original function for powering the forge hammer.

The routes I am describing for this article start on the Taff Trail in an industrial estate in Abercynon where the plateway and canal formerly met. From here one hikes or bikes north along the west bank of the Taff on the Taff Trail which utilises the bed of the tram way. After passing under the modern viaducts for the A470 and then the A472 the valley becomes well wooded. Near Quaker’s Yard and Edwardsville, the trail is bridged over the Taff twice before resuming its progression on the west bank.

After about 3 miles, where the only sounds to be heard are bird song and rushing water, a junction is reached. Here the Taff Trail (NCR 8) branches left to cross the Taff via the historic Pont y Gwaith to follow the west side of the A470. The Trevithick Trail proper (NCR 477) takes the right fork. Evidence of the plateway now presents itself as stone blocks with drilled holes which once held bolts that secured the “plates”. From here NCR 477 continues for a further 8 miles to Merthyr Tydfil, this is to be the subject of a further article.

Tony Hodge

 

Crufts 2026

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CRUFTS 2026

Eva and Asher were doggy superstars at Crufts 2026.

Asher made his debut in the Dog Obedience Championship on Saturday 7th March. His owner, Carolyn, was thrilled to be placed 4th with him.

Eva was first to work her obedience test the following day and was also placed 4th.

Both dogs came home with Crufts rosettes and glass trophies.

 

Competing In the Crufts Obedience Championships

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COMPETING IN THE CRUFTS OBEDIENCE CHAMPIONSHIPS

Two local canine residents Eva and Asher Heath have made their dog mum very proud as they both won championship dog obedience classes last year which meant they were invited to compete in the annual Crufts Obedience Championships in 2026. They can often be seen training for competition at Station Road playing fields. Eva is Asher’s mother and qualified for last year’s Crufts, but she now returns there after becoming an Obedience Champion. Eva and dog mum, Carolyn (of Greave Close), are the only team from Wales competing. Asher is competing for the first time and is the youngest dog to do so.

 

The Vernal Equinox And The Porthkerry Witch

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THE VERNAL EQUINOX AND THE

PORTHKERRY WITCH

Along with St David’s Day, St Patrick’s Day and Mothering Sunday, March brings the vernal equinox, celebrated in both Christian and pagan traditions. In 2026 it occurs on March 20 at 10:46 a.m. marking the astronomical start of spring in the Northern Hemisphere and bringing nearly equal lengths of day and night worldwide. In Christianity, Easter is linked to the first Sunday after the full moon following the vernal equinox. In pagan traditions Ostara (named after a German goddess) is celebrated honouring fertility, rebirth, and new beginnings.

Through the ages, Ostara has been celebrated by witches holding rituals and performing spells that focus on growth, abundance, and new beginnings. For most of the Middle Ages the term ‘witch’ meant the local healer, someone who made poultices and medicines and perhaps had charms or spells for healing farm animals. From the middle of the 15th century, things changed with supposed ‘witches’ being used as scapegoats and blamed for everything from bad harvests to untimely deaths. Surprisingly this darker period began with the publication of Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches). Written by a Catholic clergyman, it set out legal and theological theories to endorse the extermination of witches. Based on it, in 1484 Pope Innocent III gave the existence of witchcraft ‘official’ status by issuing a papal bull sanctioning inquisitors and starting a witch hunting hysteria, not fully lessened in Britain until laws against witchcraft were abolished in 1736.

From 1450 to 1700 in Europe alone, about 35,000 people, mainly women, were hanged or burned at the stake as suspected witches. While over a thousand people were sent to their deaths in England, curiously only 5 in Wales appear to have suffered the same fate. In 1579, Gwen ferch Ellis from Bettws in North Wales, was executed for witchcraft. She was a healer but for some reason she was persuaded by another woman, called Jane Conway, to leave an evil charm at Gloddaeth, the home of aristocrat Sir Thomas Mostyn, who died soon afterwards. Gwen was brought before a packed court in Denbigh. Seven witnesses stood against her, claiming her charms had broken bones, bewitched ale, and even stilled a young man’s heart. Gwen was convicted of murder by witchcraft and hanged.

Apart from punishing them, people looked for ways to defend themselves from witches. The National Museum at St Fagans houses a collection of 17th-century witch-related artefacts, featuring “witch bottles” designed to counteract suspected bewitchment. These bottles, often containing pins, nails, and human urine, acted as counter-magic, with the sharp objects meant to break the witch’s spell and cause them pain.

One local story concerns a lady who used to live in a cottage at Porthkerry Park. A rich young man was persuaded to pay her for a love potion, to win over the girl of his dreams. Seeing how old and frail the witch was, his servant pocketed the money and refused to pay her. Angered by the deception she cast a spell over the two of them uttering ‘May these men never leave these woods.’ The two men only got as far as the edge of the woods before turning into two trees. Research has revealed there was a woman called Ann Jenkins known as a provider of potions and remedies, inspected for witch marks by the Cowbridge magistrates. There is no record of the outcome. Official records register Ann Jenkins as being buried in the yard at the church of St Nicholas in Barry, unlikely if she had been proven to be in league with the devil.

 

 

The Shepherd and the Songbird

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THE SHEPHERD AND THE SONGBIRD

Synopsis

This story unfolds across two timelines. The present day is set in New York, where one of the protagonists – a world‑famous opera diva – hosts a dinner party. The past takes place in mid‑rural Wales, near Lake Vyrnwy, where both protagonists’ lives briefly and mysteriously intersect.

Characters

Mrs Katrin Lloyd Evans (known as The Songbird; accent shifts between South Wales Valleys and American)

Mr Kevin Wiess (Katrin’s American manager)

Tommy (Katrin’s driver; Cockney accent)

Huw Jones (the Shepherd; strong Welsh accent)

Mrs Williams (pub owner; strong Welsh accent)

Part One

The sound of opera music, laughter, and clinking glasses.

Kevin: Oh, I don’t believe in ghosts – and neither should any of the twelve people sitting around this table.

Katrin: Well, I do, Kevin.

Kevin: Really, Katrin? And what experience, pray tell, convinced you? (Light laughter around the table.)

Katrin: If you’re going to laugh, I won’t tell you at all.

Kevin: Oh come on – will it be set back on your old home turf? Go on, my fine Welsh songbird. Tell us all, on this balmy New York night.

Katrin: Not exactly my home turf – but it is set in Wales.

Kevin: And what were you doing there?

Katrin: I was born in a village called Taffen in the South Wales mining area, but this happened years later, in mid‑rural Wales near Lake Vyrnwy. It was before you became my manager. I was working on the London opera scene and had been sent to sing at the Eisteddfod in Llangollen.

Kevin: That famous music festival.

Katrin: That’s the one. The company sent a driver – Tommy.

Kevin: Ah yes, the cheeky Cockney cabbie.

Katrin: He picked me up from my apartment in Kensington in the Rolls, and we set off for North Wales.

Part Two

Car doors close. Footsteps. The engine starts.

 

Tommy: Right, Katrin – straight to Llangollen, or any stops on the way?

Katrin: Just the usual comfort breaks. How long should it take?

Tommy: About four hours, traffic permitting.

Katrin: And please stop calling me “Madam.” Call me Katrin.

Tommy: Right you are. Off we go.

The car drives on. Opera plays quietly on the radio.

Tommy: Looks like a standstill ahead. We could cut through mid‑Wales and take the A roads.

Katrin: Whatever you think best. I’ll have a little nap.

Later. The engine cuts out.

Tommy: Katrin – sorry to wake you. We’ve got a problem.

Katrin: What’s happened? Why is it so foggy?

Tommy: It came down suddenly. The radio and sat‑nav went haywire, and I didn’t want to risk driving blind.

Katrin: Do we know where we are?

Tommy: Afraid not. Phones are dead too.

Katrin: Let me try mine.

Static.

Katrin: Nothing. How strange.

Tommy: I saw what looked like a building down the road. I’ll go and look for help.

Katrin: Good idea. I’ll stay here.

Tommy walks away. The fog thickens.

Part Three

Katrin wakes alone in the cold.

Katrin: Where on earth is Tommy?

A sound outside the car.

Katrin: Tommy? Hello?

Footsteps. A cough in the distance.

Katrin: Wait – please stop and call out!

She slips and falls down a slope. Sheep bleat. A dog barks. A man sings an old operatic aria.

Huw: Helo – wyt ti’n iawn?

Katrin: Please – stop shaking me!

Huw: English, are we? Jock, lie down.

Katrin: I’m Welsh, actually – the Valleys.

 

Huw: Ah. You’ve hurt your foot. I can strap it and take you to my hut.

Katrin: A hut

Huw: Just down the valley.

He helps her to her feet and supports her as they walk.

Katrin: My name’s Katrin.

Huw: Huw Jones. And this is Jock. I’m the shepherd here.

Part Four

Inside the shepherd’s hut. A fire crackles.

Huw: Sit down. I’ll put more logs on. Tea?

Katrin: Please.

Huw: No sugar, I’m afraid.

Katrin: That’s fine.

Huw: You asked where you are – you’re in the Vyrnwy Valley.

Katrin: And Llangollen?

Huw: Forty miles or so, as the crow flies.

Katrin: You sing beautifully, you know.

Huw: It passes the time. The sheep don’t complain.

Katrin: You could sing at the Albert Hall.

Huw: What’s that?

Katrin laughs.

Huw: Rest here. I’ll look for your driver.

Later, they walk together, singing as the fog lifts.

Huw: We’re close to the road. I’ll go on ahead.

Katrin: Thank you, Huw. Truly.

He walks away, singing.

Part Five

Katrin alone again. The fog returns.

Katrin: Huw? Can you hear me?

Knocking on glass.

Tommy: Katrin! Open the door!

Katrin: Tommy! Did you see Huw?

Tommy: Who?

Katrin: The shepherd—he helped me all day.

Tommy: Katrin, I’ve only been gone half an hour.

Later, in a pub.

Mrs Williams: His name was Huw Jones?

 

Katrin: Yes.

Mrs Williams: Come and look at this photograph.

Katrin: That’s him.

Mrs Williams: Taken in 1888. He drowned in 1892, saving my grandfather when the reservoir was new. That’s why this place is called The Drowned Shepherd.

Katrin: It felt so real.

Mrs Williams: Around here, we’d say you had… an experience.

Epilogue

Weeks later, back in Wales.

Katrin walks alone. Mist gathers. A dog barks.

Katrin: Jock?

An operatic voice drifts through the fog.

Katrin: Huw…

BBC News Report:

Police have suspended the search for the missing opera singer Katrin Lloyd Evans, who disappeared three weeks ago while on a walking holiday near Lake Vyrnwy in mid‑Wales.

Book Review: The Man Who Knew Too Much

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BOOK REVIEW: THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

This lavishly illustrated book published by the Welsh Academic Press was authored by Martin Shipman the Political Editor at Large of the Western Mail. It tells the life story of Gareth Jones who was born in Barry in 1905. His parents were the head teachers of the Boys and Girls Grammar Schools in the town and with seemingly such a genetic advantage he was to achieve high academic success.

Drawing upon Jones’ articles, notebooks and private correspondence, Shipton reveals the remarkable yet tragically short life of this fascinating and determined Welshman who pioneered the role of investigative journalism

Jones, a graduate of Aberystwyth and Cambridge universities, was fluent in Welsh, English, Russian, French and German. He was talented, well-connected and determined to discover the truth behind the momentous political events following the First World War. He travelled widely to report on Mussolini’s Italy, the fledgling Irish Free State, the Depression-ravaged United States, and was the first foreign journalist to travel with Hitler after the Nazis had taken power in Germany.

Jones’ quest for truth also drew him to the Soviet Union where his reporting of famine in Ukraine which led to the deaths of millions – the “Holodomor” – incurred the wrath of Stalin who banned Jones from ever returning. Within two years, on the eve of his 30th birthday, Jones was shot dead by Chinese bandits with links to the NKVD, the Soviet Union’s secret police. His ashes were interred in the family grave in Barry Cemetery.

His early career included work as a foreign affairs adviser to former British Prime Minister David Lloyd George, a role that gave him access to political elites and sharpened his understanding of international power dynamics. However, Jones’ true vocation was journalism, and it was this calling that led him to challenge one of the greatest deceptions of the interwar period: the Soviet Union’s denial of famine in Ukraine.

In 1933, Jones travelled independently through the Soviet Union, defying official restrictions by leaving his guided route and venturing into the Ukrainian countryside. What he witnessed there contradicted the glowing reports published in much of the Western press. Millions were starving as a result of forced collectivisation and grain requisitions under Stalin’s regime. Villages were silent, food was non-existent, and death was everywhere. Jones recorded these observations meticulously and, upon leaving the USSR, published articles describing the famine in stark, unembellished terms.

The response was swift and brutal. Soviet authorities denounced Jones, banning him from re-entering the country. More damaging, however, was the reaction of fellow journalists. Influential correspondents such as Walter Duranty of The New York Times dismissed Jones’s reports, downplaying the famine and lending credibility to Soviet denials. In an era when access journalism and political sympathies often outweighed factual reporting, Jones found himself isolated, his reputation undermined for telling the truth too clearly and too early.

Jones continued to report on international affairs, including the rise of Nazi Germany, warning of Hitler’s expansionist ambitions. Yet his career never fully recovered from his confrontation with the Soviet narrative. His legacy is one of moral clarity and journalistic integrity. For decades, his warnings about the Ukrainian famine were overshadowed by denial and political convenience. Only later did history vindicate him, confirming the scale of the Holodomor and the accuracy of his reporting. Mr Jones – The Man Who Knew Too Much is therefore not only a description of one man’s fate but a broader indictment of systems that punish truth-tellers. Jones’s life reminds us that knowing the truth is rarely enough; courage is required to speak it, and even more to endure the consequences. To this day he is a National Hero in Ukraine.

Tony Hodge

 

A Tale of Bravery and Ongoing Service at St Athan

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A TALE OF BRAVERY AND ONGOING SERVICE AT ST ATHAN

As one of 10 HM Coastguard bases strategically located around the UK, St Athan provides vital life-saving support to fishing and other marine industries. The base also responds to a wide variety of land-based incidents including mountain rescue, missing persons and medical emergencies.

St Athan was one of the purpose-built sites created and operated by the Bristow company, which took responsibility for the UK SAR helicopter service in 2015. The value of the service has never been in doubt. It took less than two years to complete the first 500 missions! This was a significant achievement for St Athan’s team of pilots and specialist winchman paramedics, winch operators, engineers and support staff. The base uses a state of the art Augusta Westland 139 helicopter, equipped with the latest search and rescue technology including night vision, mission management and increasingly sophisticated onboard medical capabilities.

The team’s ‘patch’ is a 200 Nautical Mile circle around St Athan supporting sister bases around the country. Helicopters from the base have responded to emergency calls from Newcastle in the north-east to French coastal waters in the south and included missions at Worm’s Head on Gower, Fishguard in Pembrokeshire and Woolacombe Beach in Devon. The call-outs vary tremendously. Moving at speeds of roughly 160mph, enabled the crew to speedily get to Weston-Super-Mare (in seven minutes) to answer a call of a man stuck in mud, to a horse rider who fell in West Wales and someone who had fallen at Cheddar Gorge, Somerset.

Investiture of SGT Anthony Russell at Windsor Castle.

Some readers will know Tony Russell who lives in Wenvoe. His inspirational story provides an insight into the skill, bravery and professionalism required in helicopter search and rescue. There was no better illustration than the brilliant rescue carried out by Tony and the crew of ‘Rescue 193’ on 7th July 2011. In recognition of their bravery and achievement that night, the helicopter team were honoured with several awards, notably the Edward and Maisie Lewis Award and The Prince Philip Helicopter Rescue Award. Tony’s extraordinary personal efforts were recognised with the award of the prestigious Billy Deacon SAR Memorial Trophy. A particularly proud moment came when he was further honoured by Her Majesty Elizabeth II who presented him with the George Medal! The brief summary below shows how well deserved these accolades were.

SGT Anthony Russell’s role that night was as a winchman in a Royal Navy Sea King helicopter scrambled from Royal Naval Air Station (RNAS) Culdrose, Cornwall. Tony’s bravery was key in saving the lives of two yachtsmen from the ‘Andriette’ foundering in heavy seas and high winds, 80 miles offshore, south-east of the Isles of Scilly. With time of the essence, Tony volunteered to conduct a conventional and extremely hazardous rescue. Winched down in complete darkness, immediately engulfed in waves and losing communications, he hauled himself into the life raft and secured the first survivor with a strop to be lifted up to the safety of the helicopter. Briefly dragged back under the water, Tony was quickly winched up to the relative safety of the helicopter. The life raft then capsized and the remaining survivor was lost from sight. With little regard for his own safety, he winched back down despite the buffering waves, swam to the inverted life raft, diving under it and surfacing in an air pocket. Losing sight of him, the helicopter crew decided to attempt to winch him using the winch wire, which caused the life raft to flip over, fortuitously with the survivor alive inside. Tony, entangled in ropes, managed to cut himself free, swim back to the survivor, place him in a strop and complete the rescue.

Tony and the team were the last hope for the yachtsmen, but their courage and professionalism shone through, just as it does among the crews at St Athan and other bases today. When recounting his daredevil rescue, Tony said: ‘It was an extremely difficult and tense rescue. The whole crew onboard the helicopter worked well as a team in what was technically an extremely difficult rescue.’

 

 

Village Hall Raffle Results

WENVOE VILLAGE HALL RAFFLE 9 DECEMBER 2025

The Village Hall Management Committee would like to thank everyone who kindly donated prizes to this raffle and to the people who support us by buying and selling of the tickets. All money raised through the raffle contributes to the on-going insurance, maintenance and daily running costs of the Hall, which is primarily for the use of the villagers. We thank you all and wish you Good Health and a Happy and Prosperous New Year.

 

 

 

The Cardiff Chain Ferry & Ely River Subway

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SOME NOTES ON CROSSING THE LOWER REACHES OF RIVER ELY

The Cardiff chain ferry and the Ely River pedestrian subway were two remarkable transport innovations that shaped Cardiff’s docklands, reflecting both the industrial growth of the city and the ingenuity of engineers.

The Cardiff Chain Ferry which gave its name to the nearby Ferry Road, operated across the mouth of the River Ely, linking Penarth Dock with Grangetown. Its origins lay in the rapid expansion of Cardiff’s docks during the 19th century. Penarth Dock opened in 1865, As coal exports surged, thousands of dockworkers needed reliable access between the residential areas of Grangetown and the industrial facilities on the southern bank of the Ely.

The ferry was powered by a small steam engine that wound itself along a submerged chain stretched across the river. The ferry occasionally sank during storms, highlighting the limitations of such technology.

For dockworkers, the ferry was a lifeline. Without it, the nearest crossing was a road bridge at Llandough, nearly a mile upstream. However, despite its usefulness, the ferry was vulnerable to bad weather and mechanical issues. These shortcomings prompted the Taff Vale Railway Company to consider a more permanent solution by the 1890s.

The shortcomings of the chain ferry led directly to the construction of the Ely River Subway, a pedestrian tunnel beneath the river. This ambitious project was approved in 1896, with construction beginning in 1897 under the direction of George Sibbering, chief engineer of the Taff Vale Railway.

The tunnel is about 400 yards long with the 325 yards under the river excavated using a Greathead shield – the same technology employed in London’s underground railways. At its deepest point, the tunnel lay only 11 feet below the riverbed, making construction extremely challenging. Floods during 1897 and 1898 tested the resilience of workers.

The subway was officially opened in May 1900. It had a diameter of 10 feet 6 inches, with a 6-foot-wide footpath and 7 feet 6 inches of headroom. Painted with enamel and cork to reduce condensation, and lit by electric bulbs, it was a modern marvel for its time.

Pedestrians paid a penny toll, cyclists two pence, and prams four pence. Horses were even reported to use the tunnel. Beyond serving commuters, the subway also carried gas, water, and hydraulic lines essential for dock operations.

The subway was decommissioned in 1936 when Penarth Dock closed, but it remained open to pedestrians. During World War II, it was repurposed as an air raid shelter when the docks were requisitioned by the U.S. Navy. After the war, however, neglect and crime tarnished its reputation, leading to closure in 1963 and bricking up of entrances in 1965.

Although both the chain ferry and subway are long gone, their legacy remains embedded in Cardiff’s industrial heritage.

The Ely Subway stands out as a pioneering piece of engineering in Wales. Though closed, it was inspected in 1991 during the construction of the Cardiff Bay Barrage and found to be in surprisingly good condition. Instead of reopening it, planners opted to build Pont Y Werin which now serves as the pedestrian and cycle link across the Ely. This bascule bridge which contributes significantly to sustainable travel was opened in 2010 at a cost of some £4.5 million.

Tony Hodge

The Cat And The Kipper

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THE CAT AND THE KIPPER

This story takes place in Barry’s West End during the early 1940s, when my family lived in a modest terraced house not far from the docks. My grandfather, Jim, was a Merchant Seaman who travelled the world from Barry Dock. My grandmother, Agnes, kept house and cared for my four-year-old Auntie Ruth and my father, Alf, who was only six months old in 1941.

Most of family life happened in the back room of that little house. The fireplace held a small range for cooking, and a large window looked out onto the yard, where a tin bath hung from a nail on the wall. More often than not, the local black cat, known to everyone as Mr. Tickles, could be found perched on top of it, surveying his kingdom. Inside, a wooden table stood ready for meals, and the steep staircase climbed to the only bedroom. Beneath those stairs was a cupboard that served as both pantry and, when needed, air-raid shelter.

On the day of this story, Grandma had taken the children down the High Street to the fishmonger. Grandad Jim had been away at sea for three long months, and she wanted to surprise him with his favourite tea: kippers with brown bread and proper butter.

Just after three o’clock, the front door opened and in walked Grandad, smelling faintly of salt and diesel and home.

The children rushed to him, and Grandma kissed his cheek before saying, “Jim, sit yourself down. I’ve got your favourite – kipper supper, with brown bread and real butter.” “Oh, that’s grand!” he said. “I’ve been thinking about that for months.”

As the fish sizzled on the range, the room filled with the rich, smoky smell of kippers. Grandma set the bread, butter, and a bottle of Welsh bitter on the table. Mr. Tickles wandered in just then, tail held high and was rewarded with a saucer of milk. Auntie Ruth giggled at the sight of him lapping noisily at the dish.

Grandad had just washed in the sink and was settling himself at the table, leaning over to kiss Grandma as he said, “That looks lovely, love.” But before he could take more than a few bites, the wail of an air-raid siren cut through the afternoon.

“Oh no,” he groaned. “Not now – not when I’m having my tea!” “Leave it, Jim,” said Grandma firmly. “It’ll still be there when the raid is over.” She was already gathering the children toward the cupboard under the stairs. Few houses in the West End had proper Anderson shelters; the cupboard was considered the strongest place in the house.

With a reluctant sigh, Grandad grabbed another mouthful of kipper, snatched a piece of buttered bread, and followed them inside. Grandma lit a small candle, its warm glow flickering over the cramped space. A minute later, the ominous drone of an aircraft passed overhead. Then came a terrifying silence – the kind soldiers called the quiet before the hit. Without warning, a tremendous explosion shook the house. Glass shattered throughout the back room. The candle trembled in Grandma’s hand. The children cried, but she held them tight, whispering assurances she wasn’t sure she believed.

When the all-clear finally sounded, Grandad told them to stay put while he went to inspect the damage. A German bomber returning from a raid in the Midlands had jettisoned a leftover bomb on its way home, likely aiming for Barry Docks. Instead, it fell into a nearby street in the West End. Miraculously, no one in Barry was killed.

Grandad stepped cautiously into the back room. The window facing the yard had been completely blown out. Shards of glass were embedded in the very chair where he’d been sitting minutes earlier. Had he stayed to finish his kippers, he would almost certainly have been killed.

But there was one casualty that day. Mr. Tickles, having seized his chance the moment the cupboard door closed, had jumped onto the table to finish Grandad’s abandoned supper. When the blast shattered the window, flying glass ended the poor cat’s war for him.

Grandad Jim never ate kippers again

 

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