Tag: Twynyrodyn

The Crown Inn

by Carolyn Jacob

James Roberts, a freeholder and a dissenter opened the Crown Inn as one of his many business activities. In his book, ‘The Labyrinth of Flames’, Chris Evans writes that in the early 1790s the ironmasters hoped to install a landlord of their own choosing at the Crown Inn “as a competitor to Peggy Jenkins, the doughty if slapdash matriarch who ran the Star Inn. Each Company pledged £70 to their nominee, but little more was heard of the proposal thereafter.”

 The Crown Inn is situated at number 28 on the Lower High Street, in the old ‘Village’ area of Merthyr Tydfil and dates from 1785, although there have been later alterations to the inn. It is a grade II listed building. The Crown Inn was built on the site of an earlier thatched property and was fully licensed to let post horses in the nineteenth century. The building has a simple 2 storey Georgian front with some interesting old features and is a fine example of a late 18th century coaching inn. The Crown is contemporary with the time of Anthony Bacon, the first ironmaster. Following the building of the Cyfarthfa Ironworks visitors started to come to Merthyr Tydfil and the Crown provided essential refreshment and accommodation.

Before 1800 the first post-office was at the Crown Inn. An old woman brought letters from Brecon and these were put on a round table ready to be collected. Despite having undergone many changes, the building still retains many original features, such as the iron gates and carriage arch to the right hand side of the building leading to a cobbled courtyard where coaches from Cardigan were berthed.

The Merthyr Express of 28 July 1866 tells a tale of a traveller in the year 1806. He put up at the best hotel then, the Crown. He well remembered being taken by a friend to see the Castle Hotel, which was then in course of building.

One sunny afternoon, towards the close of the eighteenth century, two suspicions-looking travellers rode down through Twvnyrodyn, then the direct-road from Cardiff, passed the Court House and entered the village. They dismounted and entered the Crown Hotel. ‘In the queer old hostelry, then the principle inn, or at least equal rival to the Star’. The travellers were no other than the press gang, as Merthyr men would soon know to their cost. Coming at such a time the rumour about them spread quickly, terrified children hid them and one young fellow found a refuge in a large chimney at the Blast Furnace public-house. Never had such an alarm been caused before. A veritable panic seemed to have seized everybody, and the most ludicrous actions ensued to avoid these men. While all this commotion was going on in the little village the two travellers sat in the parlour quite at their ease and enjoyed the Crown’s best ale.

The Crown was a popular public house in nineteenth century Merthyr Tydfil and on Saturdays it was not unusual for a crowd of men to come out of the Crown or Star and for 2 of them to strip to the waist in order to have a public fight. Before the Glamorgan Constabulary was established there was only a village constable and he wisely kept well out of these occasions.

In the first half of the nineteenth century the market was outside the Crown Inn. The shops were crowded with customers and the fairs and markets were held in the open streets extending from the churchyard wall upwards, temporary stalls were erected along a poorly constructed pavement and the public highway itself was invaded by hand-barrows, baskets and panniers. These stalls sold clothes, boots, shoes, jewellery, gingerbread, sweets, Welsh flannels and so on. The butchering trade had its own area and small market in a side street.

In 1835 Pigot’s directory gives John Richards as the Inn Keeper of the Crown Inn and on the 1841 census Margaret Richards was the landlady living in the Crown with her daughters, Mary and Jane. In 1852 Slater’s directory lists Howell Davies as landlord.

In the mid nineteenth century the Crown was the most popular location for Friendly Societies to meet. Amongst those that met there were The Social Society, The Society of Gentleman, Tradesman and Mechanics, The Cambrian Friendly Society, The Star Brotherly Society and the Faithful Youths’ Society, according to the Merthyr Telegraph, Registered Friendly Societies, 26 September 1857.

A directory from 1889 shows John Davies to be the landlord here. The 1901 register of electors reveals that David Francis Williams lived in the Crown Inn. A trade directory of 1923 shows that D. Williams was still the Crown’s landlord at this time.

The Railways of Romance – part 1

Today marks the 140th anniversary of the birth of one of Merthyr’s greatest writers – J. O. Francis. To mark the occasion, one of his excellent short essays is transcribed below, following a short introduction by Mary Owen who wrote a marvellous biography of him.

John Oswald Francis (J.O.) was born at 15, Mary Street, Twynyrodyn in 1882, and lived later at 41, High Street, next door to Howfields, when his father, a blacksmith, opened a farrier shop in the busy shopping centre. In 1896 he entered the County Intermediate and Technical School on the day of its opening and benefited greatly, like many others, from the education he received there. It formed the grounding for the rest of his life. A blacksmith’s life was not for him. In 1900, he gained a scholarship to University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, where he graduated with first class honours in English.

He lived for the rest of his life in London, where he was well known as a dramatist, journalist, broadcaster and a popular public speaker. He found fame in 1913 with his play, Change, about ordinary Welsh working-class people and the problems they were facing as changes were taking place in politics, religion and education. It was the first of its kind and gave a new genre to drama, which influenced writers for decades. Although he lived away from Merthyr Tydfil for most of his life, his knowledge of it in his youth inspired him to write about it in the years that followed until his death in 1956. His many short comedies helped to bring about the popularity of amateur dramatics, especially in Glamorgan. He was a pioneer and he became a leading member of the First Welsh National Drama Movement. He was regarded as ‘a distinguished dramatist, ‘a gentle satirist, and ‘always a Merthyr boy’.

Mary Owen

The Railways of Romance

None of us can determine which of the impressions we are always unconsciously receiving is being most deeply written on our minds. What abides is, often enough, that which might least be expected to remain. It is, too, sometimes a little incongruous, as if memory were in part jester, playing tricks with recollection – perhaps in kindness – lest the past should have too grim a visage.

Setting up to be a serious and philosophic person, I must confess to some perplexity over my remembrance of South Wales. There is an interloping thought that persists in creeping into the midst of more exalted memories. I cannot think of the high places of my early destiny – my home, my school, the houses of my more generous relations, and the chapel of my juvenile theology – but that a railway station crowds unasked into the mental scene. In the station of that Town of the Martyr in Glamorgan, an there, no doubt, small boys, stealing away from the harsh realities of the High Street, still snatch a fearful joy upon the trolleys, and staring away past the signal box, weave for themselves the figments of young romance.

Merthyr Railway Station in the early 1900s. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The small boy’s zest in railway stations has, I may argue in self-defence, a basis in the deep instincts of humanity. In the old primitive world the barbarian, looking up on the sun, was overwhelmed by a sense of its vast power. He made a god of it, and bowed in reverence. So, also, that unequivocal barbarian, the average small boy, beholds in a railway engine an example of power well within the range of his understanding. It is, perhaps, the same old instinct of adoration that kindles in every healthy youngster his burning desire to be a railway-guard.

Even in this riper stage, when life holds joys more attractive than the right to blow the whistle and to jump authoritatively upon a moving train, I find that a railway station can still exercise a certain lure. To every good Welshman, Paddington and Euston are wondrous places. He may not be one of the happy pilgrims, but it is a pleasure merely to look at carriages that go out under such banners as “Cardiff”, “Fishguard”, “Aberystwyth”, “Dolgelley” or “Barmouth”, and if he is not quite a curmudgeon he can find a vicarious delight in the blessedness of those departing.

But Paddington and Euston have a strenuous air. They do not encourage people to loiter upon trolleys and watch the pageant of the trains. In that station of the Martyr’s Town there was more tolerance. Over Paddington and Euston it had also this other advantage – it did not monotonously receive and despatch the rolling-stock of a single company. Oh, no! It had trains in a variety that I have never since seen equalled. Almost all the lines in Glamorgan gathered to it, just as all paths are said to lead to Rome.

Simply to enumerate the companies that sent their trains to pause under that grimy but catholic roof is to recover something of the rapture of the schoolboy “with shiny morning face”. We had the “Great Western” and the “Taff”; the “London North Western”, the “Rhymney”, and the “Brecon and Merthyr”. I am sorry that, by some kindly roundabout way, the Barry Railway did not run in also. But I am sure that it was then much more than a project.

We small boys of the station-hunting breed knew the different types of engine point by point. We had each of us a favourite. Bitter indeed were our disputes on the question of comparative worth, and devotion went occasionally to the chivalry of fisticuffs. Squeaky voices were raised in partisan abuse. Young eyes shone with the light of a noble championship. (Grown-up people, I have since learnt, land themselves in the law courts for issues less important than those falsetto controversies).

The engine of each company had its own characteristic quality, fully appreciated in our loving study after school hours and in the joyous emancipation of Saturday. The “Great Western” arrived from some vague place called “Swansea” – made after the “local” model, and with its well-known “tick, tick!” rather like a stout lady in a dark-green costume catching her breath after exhausting movement. To many of us the “Taff” was the most impressive of them all. I daresay that on a general suffrage, with a secret ballot to nullify the influence of some of our brawnier members, the “Taff” would have been voted the finest thing that ever went on wheels. How big and burly was the “Taff” engine as it swung past the signal box! How cheerfully it whistled, and how inevitably did it suggest a robust representation of John Bull!

Often did we wonder what would happen if it failed to stop before it reached the buffers. About our expectant platform hung the legend of a day when an engine had crashed right through and gone in mad career almost to the door of the Temperance Hall without. But not for us were such catastrophes! They were the story of an older era, a reminiscence of giants before the flood.

An old print showing the terrible accident mentioned above at Merthyr Station on 16 May 1874

To be continued…….

Jimmy Edwards, Nancy Whiskey and an 11 year old Boy

by Brian Jones

The  atmosphere  in  the  red  double-decker  bus  was  a  mixture  of excitement and apprehension – the experienced pupils were pleased to renew old acquaintances, whilst the nervous first year boys and girls tended to quiet reflection. The bus, with the conductor keeping a watchful eye, meandered down Twyn hill, up the High Street to Pontmorlais, then skirted Merthyr General Hospital and finally reached its destination at Gwaelodygarth, near the  top gates of Cyfarthfa Park.  A mass of buses disgorged hundreds of Cyfarthfa Castle Grammar School pupils, 120 of whom were about to begin the first day of a new adventure.

The ten minute walk through the park would be repeated innumerable times over the next seven happy and eventful years. Amongst the wave of children, some marched at a brisk pace, others moved slowly and deliberately, whilst a few set off on a hurried race ignoring the beauty of the park. Soon each of the four seasons would pass leaving each of their distinctive colours and smells lingering in the memory – the odour of wet leaves crushed underfoot in autumn, the snow and ice of winter, the showers of  rain  that  heralded  a new  spring, and finally the shade of the trees providing some relief on the occasional hot days of summer.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The girls peeled away – on the path to the rear of the school while the boys from 11 to 18 years of age followed the gentle downward slope to the front of the school. Only the sixth form and teaching staff could enter through the quadrangle, while the Lower and Middle schools walked a little further through the yard and into the long school corridor.

In 1957 Jimmy Edwards (left) was the star of the B.B.C television comedy series “Whacko” which was shown on small black and white television sets with poor picture and sound reception. Jimmy’s trademark handlebar moustache, mortarboard and black academic gown marked him out as the incompetent schoolmaster, forever jousting with that errant pupil “Taplow”. Their fictitious school mirrored some of the features of “The Castle” – the academic dress of the staff; the occasional corporal  punishment;  the management of the pupils by the school prefects, all of who seemed like giants to that very small 11 year-old boy. The prefects would dish out lines for the slightest perceived misdemeanours saying “100 lines by tomorrow boy” then to rattle off at breakneck speed, “Deep harm to disobey seeing as obedience is a bond of rule”.

In other respects the school where Jimmy Edwards ruled the roost was very unlike “The Castle”. There all pupils were “posh” whereas at Cyfarthfa the school was a delicious mix of children of professionals, tradesmen and unskilled workers – the sons and daughter of teachers, · electricians and fitters, production operatives at Hoovers, I.C.I, B.S.A and Triang Toys. In the comedy series all of the children were English through and through, with appropriate English surnames. In my class there were Bernstein, Lozano, Jones, Walsh, Robertson, Olsen and Muller reflecting the local ethnic mix, as a result of immigration spread over the previous century.

A few months earlier the 120 new entrants to the school had passed the  11 Plus Examination whereas on that first morning of term they assembled in the old school hall, which would soon be converted into extra classrooms. The stern looking Headmaster, Mr W.  Lloyd Williams M.A. (right) began the introductions and commenced the allocations to forms by asking, “All those who wish to study Welsh hold up your hands!” Then thirty or so pupils were placed into form 2A and the remainder allocated into three streamed forms of 2B,  2C and 2D.

Mr Bernard Jenkins (English) took charge of form 2B. A lover of golf he proved a humorous, if strict form master. Later that day we would meet our new teachers such as May Treharne (Latin); Mr  J H Davies (French) a short man nicknamed “Twiddles”; Mr  A G Harris (Geography) known as Gus who prior to World War II  had married a former school P.E mistress, Miss Florence Price, and set up home near Penydarren Park; Maud Davies (Biology) who lived in Treharris and was a cousin of the Headmaster; the History teacher, Mr G L Williams nicknamed “Nero” and Mr Trevor Jones (English) who lived in Twynyrodyn and who joined the staff in 1952.

Mr Harvard Walters (Welsh) (left) had been at the school since 1936 and much later became the Deputy Headmaster. One of his tasks was to begin the long and frustrating attempt to teach the Welsh National Anthem and school song, the first 2 lines of which were:-

Ienctyd y Castell, Caer I Ddysg a Hedd,
Gloewn Ein Harfau I’r Gad Ddi-gledd.

Many a time he would despair at the “Wenglish” of most of the pupils moaning that they were “a lot of Dowlais Cockneys”.

At lunchtime we marched to the canteen sited in its own ground to the rear of the school where under the keen eyes of the prefects we were taught dining room etiquette. Each pupil was careful to walk slowly to each of the afternoon lessons with leather satchels becoming heavier as the day progressed. New friends were quickly made and by the end of that school day new groups ambled back to the buses, however most of the pupils soon had their school tie askew, and gold trimmed school cap set at an angle.

The journey home on the bus was light-hearted although the prefects still remained in firm control. The older boys whistled the catchy tune of the song  “Freight  Train”  which  had  been  recorded  by  the  singer  Nancy Whiskey, just at the end period of the Skiffle craze. The new boy alighted from the bus at Penuel Chapel on Twyn Hill, with his school satchel seeming to “weigh a ton”, however as each of the years passed it lost its shine and became as “light as a feather”.

I remember with affection Jimmy Edwards, Nancy Whiskey and that first day at “The Castle”.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

Now it always occurs to me that the doctoring system is a remainder of what in other cases would be called the truck system. Pray understand, I know how careful and skilful medical men are generally, and how admirably they perform their duties, yet there is always the thought that the system does not always co-ordinate with those general principles adopted in other things.

My own conviction is that truck in the early age of Merthyr was actually a necessity. When the works really began they were small, and no certainty of continuance. I am well aware of attempts that have been tried in various systems to alter it, but the system seems too firmly rooted to be altered for some time at least. An experiment in the adoption of a another method is, I believe, now being tried.

After a while Plymouth had Mr Probert (who by the bye, had been an assistant of Mr Russell), and so remained until his death, I think, but yet doubt that he resigned previously. Penydarren had Mr John Martin, and Mr Russell retained Dowlais, but it passed into the hands of his nephew Mr John Russell, for some time, and on his leaving Dr John Ludford White came to Dowlais.

This gentleman married a niece of Mr Wm. Forman, of the firm of Thompson and Forman, Cannon House, Queen Street, London, and after some years moved to Oxford, with the intention, it was said, of taking higher degrees. Dr White obtained the appointment through the recommendation of the London physician of Sir J John Guest, and in order that an accurate knowledge of the requirements might be, had visited Dowlais to see for himself. I remember him there, and an incident followed that will be mentioned when Dowlais is visited which will show the kind-heartedness of Sir John, and I hope also to mention one demonstrating his decision of character and another where I saw him weep.

We now return to Mr Russell’s surgery. A little further down, on the other side was Adullam (sic) Chapel, and cottages thence to the road to Twynyrodyn, while on the same side as Mr Russell’s was the way from the High Street, John Street by name, cottages somewhat irregular. The old playhouse also stood here; yes reader. It was a stone and mortar structure, and was for a long time unused.

An extract from the 1851 Public Health Map showing Tramroadside North from Church Street to the Old Playhouse

Further on there was the Fountain Inn, between which and the Glove and Shears the road passed to Dowlais over Twynyrodyn, Pwllyrwhiad etc, but we cross and a few yards brings me to what was the boundary wall of Hoare’s garden, which continued down to where the line to Dowlais is now.

The bottom end of Tramroadside North from the 1851 map

It has been my pleasure to see many gardens, but in all my experience I never saw one kept in such trim as this. Upon its being taken for the railway, Hoare started a garden and public house, if I remember well, at Aberdare Junction. Owing to the Taff Vale Company not allowing anyone to cross the line, a very long way around became a necessity to get there, and he did not do as well as anticipated or (I think) deserved.

Lower down the tramroad were some cottages on the right hand side, in one of which, adjoining the Shoulder of Mutton, a cask of powder exploded. It was kept under the bed upstairs for safety, and, lifting the roof off its walls, it fell some dozen yards away. The roof was covered with the thin flagstones often used and very little damaged. No one was fatally injured but one or two were injured, and altogether it was a wonderful escape. Moral: Do not keep a cask of explosive material upstairs under the bed!

To be continued at a later date……

Merthyr: Then and Now

TRAMROADSIDE NORTH

Tramroadside North in the 1960s. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive
Tramroadside North in 2022

The ‘Tramroad’ has changed a lot in the last 50 or so years. The cottages shown in the first photograph have been demolished (as indeed have almost all of the houses that lined the road). Adulam Chapel (which can be seen top middle of the first photo) has also been demolished to be replaced by a new development of flats.

Indeed, if we were to follow the Tramroad towards Twynyrodyn, we would see that the whole layout of the road has entirely changed.

At least there are more trees now!!!!

Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

There has not been much reference yet to Caedraw, nor can there be much recalled to describe. The Gas Works were erected here, a Mr Evans being the first manager, and a brother of his the deputy. There were two breweries near the end of the road joining Bridge Street, one owned by a Mr John Toop; the other, which was smaller, owned by Mr Anstie, who kept the shop in Pontmorlais previously. This Mr Anstie bought the property between the road in Caedraw and the Isle of Wight, and came to reside there after improving the buildings.

A section of the 1851 Public Health Map showing Caedraw

The basin tramroad was ordinarily used as a pedestrian thoroughfare, in fact many houses had no other way of approach. I cannot recall anyone ever being prevented from walking the tramroad, although it might not have always been judicious to do so on account of safety. Things are so altered now, and we are accustomed to the change, that it takes consideration to recall things quite decidedly. For instance, brakes to slacken the speed or stop conveyances were unknown. The ‘sprag’ was the only thing used, and these projected at variable distances from the wheels of the trams, if the trams were going fast – for they would occasionally run wild – it was a serious matter to be caught in any narrow part of the road. It was also a hazardous thing for the haulier to put them in or take them out, and many a limb as well as life has been lost by a slip.

As one instance of there being no other way of going to or coming from a residence on the Tramroad, somewhere behind the Morlais Castle Inn can be cited. It was the residence of Mr Roger Williams (I think it was his own property). He was a public functionary, but whether relieving officer or assistant overseer is not remembered now. If we went down the Tramroad towards Twynyrodyn, before coming to Professional Row we should see a door on the right hand. This is where a Mr Russell stayed. He was a brother of the Mr Russell who was the doctor of Dowlais, Penydarren and Plymouth Works at one time. He lived in the lowest of the three houses in Professional Row, and his surgery was at the back with public entrance from the Tramroad.

Old Mr Russell, his brother, and others attended the surgery, but the one very often attendant upon the patient was the brother, about whom I remember the remark that after enquiring as to symptoms he always gave two pills in a paper, and the patients were often (very often) so hurt, that the pills used to be thrown over the Tramroad wall into the field on the other side, whence they were collected to again be served out.

To be continued at a later date……

Merthyr Memories: Memories of Christmas

by Laura Bray

Christmas is always a time of nostalgia, always tinted with that golden glow! So when Steve asked me to share my memories of Christmas, it was hard to think of a place or time, there were so many to chose from.

But in the end, I focused on the early 1980s and I hope this resonates with some of you.

For me, Christmas has always been predominantly a religious festival, wrapped round with music. We knew we were getting close, when St David’s Church choir, or the Cyfarthfa School Girls Choir, both under Derry Prothero’s capable leadership, dusted off the Christmas anthems, usually in about October! Also, rehearsals with the Cyfarthfa School Mixed Choir under the leadership of Ian Hopkins, were held at around the same time.

Cyfarthfa School Mixed Choir in the 1980s with Ian Hopkins (front). Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

In the case of the Girls Choir it was things like Britten’s “This Little Babe” difficult, but effective, cannoning round the church,  or Elgar’s “Snow” and the more traditional “Adam Lay a-Bounden” as well as three-part “Ding Dong Merrily”.  All practised in school and culminating in a half day rehearsal in the church itself and an early finish!

In the church choir – which then consisted of around 30 choristers-  there were endless rehearsals for The Nine Lessons service;  of “Once in Royal” for the procession, and the traditional anthems such as  “In the Bleak Mid Winter”, “The Sussex Carol” “Joy to the World’ or Rutter’s “Angel Carol”.  Derry was great at mixing the much loved oldies, with some newer works.

St David’s Church Choir with Derry Prothero (far right). Photo courtesy of Caroline Owen

By mid December we had sang for the school carol concert before the end of term, and, for those of us who were also in the church choir,  for the Nine Lessons and Carols on the 4th Sunday in Advent. I remember the descants we sang – always challenging and always high, and always “can belto”!

For a couple of years after the Nine Lessons, as if we hadn’t sung enough,  the church  choir then headed out to the streets around the church – Twyn Hill, and Thomastown mostly  – and belted out, from memory and in full 4 part harmony, all of the stalwarts “Hark the Herald”, “O Come All Ye Faithful”, “O Little Town of Bethlehem”, “Away in a Manger” and so on, to raise money for the church organ fund. We sang in the middle of the road while a couple of us knocked on doors with our rattling tins, taking requests and asking for contributions. Few people turned us down.  We sang till we were cold and hoarse. Not even Sandbrook House, then a nursing home, escaped the carol singing!

On Christmas Eve itself I would wait to hear the Salvation Army Band, playing carols round the streets, before heading down to the Vulcan with my friends for Christmas drinks. Not too many, mind, as we were back in church for the Midnight Mass at 11.30 and more carols, including one of my absolute favourites –  “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”. The service always began by candlelight, and the church lit up gradually until it was flooded with colour, light and sparkle, and you could see who was there. Sometimes old choristers came to join us, swelling the numbers of the choir even further.

The Vulcan (pre the 1980s). Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The Midnight was always packed and was a great place to catch up with friends and acquaintances who had moved from Merthyr but come home for Christmas. The atmosphere was magical and lively!

We always finished with “Hark the Herald” – sometimes sung with more enthusiasm than accuracy at the end of weeks of singing and a touch of alcohol!

Then home to bed. Another Christmas celebrated. And the echo of music in the night.

Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

Assuming ourselves at the junction of the Mardy and High Street, we will try to go (as many did during the turnpike gate days) around to Dowlais. The Star is on the right hand, a small house and shop on the left, the Mardy House being close, in fact the front garden touched the wall of Shop House, and Mardy House itself faced out to the High Street. This was the new front; a portion of the older part adjoined and had a thatched roof. It was occupied by a Mrs David Meyrick, I believe (Mr David Meyrick Having died there). Adjoining the Mardy was the residence of Mr Edmund Harman.

An extract from the 1851 Ordnance Survey Map showing the area in question

Gillar Street comes in, and on the opposite corner was a shop where (if not mistaken) Mr William Harris first opened on his own account; then the residence of Mr William Rowland, the parish clerk. At the making of the Vale of Neath Railway it was necessary to take part of his garden, and the navvies were annoyed at his troubling so much about some fruit trees. Naturally they would move them in the early hours of the day to avoid interference, but on one occasion he went out while they were doing so, and heard one of the navvies say to the other “Look out Jim; here’s the b_____ old Amen coming”. His wrath was not modified by the hearing of this, but that he did hear it is well known.

An opening into the Cae Gwyn followed, and the Fountain public house was upon the corner of the Tramroad. Upon the right side behind the Star were some five or six cottages, and after an opening was passed that came from Pendwranfach, the Court premises and Garden followed. The house itself has been improved since then, but it was always the parent house of the town. The Glove and Shears adjoined, and abutting on its gable was the Tramroad. Just here will be spoken of again in reference to the Tramroad. Now however, we will cross it and ascend the hill – Twynyrodyn.

Some not over good cottages lined a part of the way; there was a better residence on the right before coming to Zion, the Welsh Baptist Chapel, and opposite the chapel was the residence of the Rev Enoch Williams. Facing down the road just above was the White Horse public house, with a row of cottages with gardens in front. There were but few cottages beyond Zion Chapel on that side.

The White Horse Inn. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

At the end of the White Horse, and behind the row of cottages, is the original ground used for burial of those who died from the cholera epidemic in the very early thirties (those who died at the subsequent visitation being buried in Thomastown, near the Union Workhouse).

The road had few if any cottages. In a dell, which may be called the end of Cwm Rhyd-y-bedd, there was one, and some a little further on to the left. The ‘Mountain Hare’ was the name of the public house built there adjoining the railroad leading from the Winch Fawr to the Penydarren Works.

To be continued at a later date…..

Merthyr’s Heritage Plaques: Philip Arvon Jones (Philip Madoc)

by Keith Lewis-Jones

Plaque sited at Bryn Street, Twynyrodyn, CF47 0TG

Born Phillip Jones near Merthyr Tydfil, he attended Cyfarthfa Castle Grammar School, where he was a member of the cricket and rugby teams and displayed talent as a linguist. He then studied languages at the University of Wales and the University of Vienna. He eventually spoke seven languages, including Russian and Swedish, and had a working knowledge of Huron Indian, Hindi and Mandarin.

He worked as an interpreter, but became disenchanted with having to translate for politicians: “I did dry-as-dust jobs like political interpreting. You get to despise politicians when you have to translate the rubbish they spout.” He then switched to acting and won a place at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA).

Philip Madoc performed many stage, television, radio and film roles. On television, he played David Lloyd George in The Life and Times of David Lloyd George and the lead role in the detective series A Mind to Kill. His guest roles included multiple appearances in the cult series The Avengers and Doctor Who, as well as a famous episode of the sitcom Dad’s Army.