Shrove Tuesday today, and a flood of memories, walking home from school in anticipation of pancakes for tea. Dad making a fool of himself trying, mostly in vain, to toss them perfectly and get them to return to the pan in one piece and the right way up. Little squashy plastic lemons, full of juice, still available today. Getting tea done early so we could go to the Shrove Tuesday Concert at the Church Hall in Groes Lwyd. Always put on by the Band of Hope with the help of Mr Chalk (Chalkie), the curate at St Michaels. Place was always packed to see what surprises they had for us each year. Local businessmen and dignitaries abandoning there sense to do something silly to entertain us all. Chalkie was the Scout leader as well, so when we got older we all got roped in to perform. The seats would be taken early but if you wanted the best seats, let the hall fill up so you could sit on the window sills. What great nights they were, the town celebrating the day together, so busy that people would be outside trying to get a view of the proceedings through the open door. Not sure why it all ended, just a sign of the times I suppose. What a shame.
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Description of Abergele train accident
“We are now approaching Abergele, near which such a terrible accident
happened to the Irish mail in 1868. Some trucks had been shunted from a train in front, and they, by some mistake, came running down the hill to meet the “Irishman.” The driver saw them, and the shock was not severe, but unfortunately they were filled with oil barrels, which broke open, the petroleum caught fire, and in two minutes all the fore part of the train was enveloped in flames.
“Nothing could be done; the poor people in the carriages – lords and
ladies and gentlemen – were burned, and with difficulty any escaped. This was a fearful catastrophe, and quite puts aside any ordinary accidents which (not a few) have happened to the “Wild Irishman.”
Article in ‘Little Folks, A Magazine for the Young’, date of issue unknown
Bowden House Dairy
Does anyone remember the dairy at the bottom of Clwyd Avenue ? I was talking to a guy I knew years ago and we were reminiscing about it, brought back a flood of memories. It used to be opposite the Catholic church, which is now a hairdressers. When I was small we used to listen to stories from the old guy that worked there “Mustard” he was know as, but I don’t know why. He was about 90 in the early sixties and he used to tell us about walking down to Pensarn, when he was a child, and crossing the railway line before walking about a mile to the sea ! Guess it would of been around 1870, I know the railway opened in 1848. I’m not sure why the dairy closed, maybe the advent of supermarkets. It was eventually bought by Mr Wetton who built the two storey building, photo in Abergele in Shorts, as a mans hairdressers for his son Glyn. Now it has been changed to include flats and the hairdressers is down stairs. Curios that Mr Wetton’s first appearance, in my mind, was when he opened his shop down Starkey’s Lane, or at least that’s what we used to call it, about the place where the A55 underpass is if your walking from the bottom of Maes Canol to Pensarn.
In the last post I showed you Abergele station. How many people remember the other train station in Abergele ? Here it is, the long forgotten Gwrych Castle station. Looking at the dress of the people in it I believe it was taken sometime in the mid-fifties. What a place the Castle was then, not like today in its poor state. The attractions were many and exciting. The Train, the Marquee, which is where the entertainment was held. It had magicians, bands and dancers. The sweet shop where you could buy pink spearmint bars for tuppence, wrapped up in greaseproof paper. What an art it was, to be able to unwrap the sticky mess after hours of it being in your pocket ! The staircase, that seemed to go up forever, all of us secretly hoping we would see the famed Ghost of Gwrych, not really, just bravado, remember being a bit scarred. The Chamber of Horrors, a place not to be treated lightly when you were small. The back way in from Tan-y-Goppa, didn’t have to pay if you could survive the brambles you had to get through. The walk to the watchtower to spy down onto the road below. The long line of people making their way up the long drive, dragging kids or pushing prams, the better off being able to park their cars below the castle, always viewed with some jealousy by those that didn’t have one. It was a rare sight in those days for a family to have Car. Picnicking on the grass below the Castle. All 30 minutes from home. Remember when the grounds were free to roam, the golf course was down Sea Road then, built on now, but still known as the “Links” estate for obvious reasons. Remember as kids being paid by the Golf Club to pick up stones on their course at Gwrych.
Pensarn station
All this talk with Brian kindled fresh memories of the train station. This picture of Abergele station looking towards Llanddulas brings back many memories. the over rail walkway, long since gone, was the start of many adventures, the permanent smell of steam as you walked over only served to highten the excitment of travel to far away places. You can still get the experience if you walk over the one still in place at Rhyl station where, after all these years there is still a trace of the smell, or is it just my imagination ? Far away places such a Rhyl or even Chester. The most exciting was school trip to London, seemed so far away in those days. All on the train, well prepared with orange squash and sandwiches prepared by Mum for the whole trip, usually consumed before we got to Prestatyn. Individual fruit pies, now what happened to those ? Running up and down the corridors, being told off by seemingliy the oldest person in the world, the Guard !! Happy days.
Diving deep back in time
A self-indulgent day. Diwrnod i’r Brenin (day for a king) as we say in Welsh. This morning we walked down the Mount, past Ysgol Glan Morfa, Maes Canol, under the expressway and onto the beach.
On the way back, I met a woman from Tanygrisiau, who’d lived in Abergele most of her life:
“I’m leaving Abergele; I feel like a stranger here. There’s a woman from Birmingham living next door to me. She feeds the seagulls; she actually leaves out a loaf of bread for them. The poor woman next door had just hung her washing out. I’m off to live in Powys. ”
After lunch, I walked up Tan y Gopa. It’s called Coed y Gopa or Coed y Cawr more often nowadays and it’s owned by the Woodland Trust now. They’ve been thinning out the trees and this has revealed the Iron Age fort that crowns the hill. There are some really high walls to the fort which I hadn’t appreciated until today. Good to see the wild Stinking Hellebore still thrives here too.
The Romans are said to have mined lead from the hill. There’s one really long and deep fault called Ceg y Blaidd (wolf’s mouth) – I hope I’ve remembered that name properly.
I’d gone to Tan y Gopa looking for a cave I remembered playing in when I was a child. I usually walked up Tan y Gopa with William Jones (Broadway) and Huw Watkins (Eldon Drive) through Mr Matthews’s farm fields. These fields have now been developed into housing estates.
The cave has two entrances: the first is 20 feet up a sheer rock face, the second drops down from the grass above. I did have to ask directions. The squeeze through the second entrance was tighter than I remember but sitting inside, I imagined I was back again with my childhood friends, Huw and William.
I really enjoyed revisiting the cave. Thanks to the Woodland Trust for taking such good care of Tan y Gopa.
Tank traps on the beach
I’ve just been speaking with my dad’s neighbour Brian Haynes. As someone who grew up in Pensarn and Abergele, he’s a mine of info on Abergele’s local history. He just let me scan an old photo of his. It shows Pensarn Beach just after World War II. He says there were tank traps in the sand and pill boxes along the coast and, in this photo, just behind the car, you can make out where the tank trap had recently been filled in.
Pentre Mawr old classroom
Felicia Dorothea Browne at Gwrych Castle
“Felicia Dorothea Browne was born in Duke Street, Liverpool, on the 25th of September, 1793. She was the second daughter and the fourth child of a family of three sons and three daughters.
“Her father, who was a native of Ireland, was a merchant of good position. Her mother, whose maiden name was Wagner, was the daughter of the Venetian consul in Liverpool.
“The original name was Veniero, but as the result of German alliances it
had assumed this German form. Three members of the family had risen to the dignity of Doge. The first six years of Felicia’s life were spent in
Liverpool. Then commercial losses compelled her father to break up his
establishment in that city and remove to Wales. The next nine years of
her life were spent at Gwyrch, near Abergele, in North Wales.
“The house was a spacious old mansion, close to the seashore, and shut in on the land side by lofty hills. Surely a fit place for the early residence of a poetess of Nature.
“Besides this advantage of situation, she had the privilege of access to the treasures of a large library. The records of her early days show her to have been a child of extreme beauty, with a brilliant complexion and long, curling, golden hair.
“But her personal beauty was not the only thing that arrested attention. Her talents and sweetness of disposition retained the notice which her attractiveness had obtained. The old gardener used to say that “Miss Felicia could ‘tice him to do whatever she pleased.” And he was not the only one who fell under her gentle constraint. She was a general favourite.”
– from an old book called Excellent Women, author: Various
Wades of Abergele
I think everyone has fond memories of Wades the bakers. I went to school with Byron Wade. His father coached Glan Morfa football team. His sister was a journalist on the Abergele Visitor – another much-loved icon of Abergele. Every Saturday, I was sent to collect our weekly order from Mrs Grace. Yes, it’s sad to think of Abergele without Wades.
