Tuesday, 26 May 2026

Poetry Prize Presentation

Poetry Prize Presentation

Back in November, I entered a poetry competition, writing a poem on the theme of Play; this subject was set by the National Poetry Society. I always like a challenge, and looking at things from l different angle than what might be expected, and it turned out to be one of those occasions when I was really inspired. The words just flowed; poem submitted; and then followed the long wait to hear the results... 

Come February, an e-mail suddenly landed in my inbox, with the brilliant news I had won! I was so chuffed, delighted, thrilled to bits... it is always an honour to have your work recognised as having some merit, and I was asked if I'd be free on 11th March for a presentation? 

Oh, yes, please! It was a great day.

My poem has been reproduced on large posters and displayed in all the libraries. There were also winners in the children's categories, so all ages were catered for and encouraged. 



 

PLAY

 

Play me a song 

On the radio

Push me high on the swings;

See how far I can go!

 

Play on my feelings – 

No-one will see

If it’s joy or distress

You’re inflicting on me

 

What an amazing show! 

The critics may say

Well written, well-acted,

A memorable play

 

But some theatre-goers

Return home at night

Confused and dejected,

Their emotions played out

 

When the sport is too much

The players collapse

They’ve played their last shot

And run their last laps

 

Sometimes simplicity 

Is all that we need

Not a search for distraction

Played at top speed

 

So play on my feelings

Like a six-string guitar;

Strumming soft, gentle chords

Is much better by far.

 

 

Alexandra Wilde





 

 






Tuesday, 5 May 2026

A Happy Memory: Playing Schubert's Piano

A Happy Memory: Playing Schubert's Piano

I recently found a photo of me, taken in February 1958, when I was still 11 years old. We were on our way back to England, via sea from Dar-es-Salaam on a Lloyd Triestino vessel (either the Europa or the Africa - I can’t remember which!) to Trieste, and then driving through Austria, Germany and France, before landing back in Blighty. In Vienna, we visited the Schubert Museum, and the curator must have seen me casting longing glances at the piano; she said, “I am going to go out of this room. What I don’t see, I know nothing about!” and made it clear I was allowed to play it. 

There were notices everywhere, with “Do Not Touch!” printed on them; rules shouldn’t be broken, but they can be bent a little, and I remember that moment to this day.

One of my Grandma’s cousins had her LRAM diploma in music, and taught piano for years. When we were in Africa, I took both Royal Academy of Music and Trinity College of Music exams; I think the RAM examiners came out just once a year, so you had only one chance to get it right! but Trinity College people came out twice a year, which took the pressure off. 



During our voyage to Trieste, our ship also called in at Venice. My Mum and I went ashore, and I was thrilled to see how Venice was built on so many islands, with the bridges across the canals connecting the houses and shops. I remember the Grand Canal and the Rialto Bridge, and lines of gondolas, some beautifully decorated, all waiting with their gondolieri, ready to ferry passengers from one place to another. 

As we walked around Venice, we saw a little shop selling jewellery, and went in to see what was on display. I fell in love with a little silver and marcasite gondola brooch, and my Mum, bless her, bought it for me. 

If you look carefully at the photo of me playing Schubert's piano, you can see the brooch, pinned on the right side of my coat; I still have it, and it is a treasured piece not just of jewellery, but of all the memories with which it has been imbued. Thank you, Mum, for recognising it would become an important part of items in my Happy Memory Chest!



Monday, 6 April 2026

My Big Eight-O Birthday!

My Big Eight-O Birthday!

Yes, I know. I haven't been writing on my blog for a little while, but I have had a very good reason for being preoccupied recently... and I celebrated my big 80th birthday on Saturday, 28th March.

It was a wonderful day. Wendy came over to collect us, and we drove into London; we had a table booked at Fortnum and Mason’s, for a cream tea. People were asking if I was going to have a big party (a couple of hundred guests, perhaps?!) but that isn’t my style – I only wanted my nearest and dearest, all my loved ones, to enjoy the day with me, and I was so contented.  

Going into London, we also had an adventure; we had not realised there was a big march due to take place. Starting at about 1.00 p.m., the Police said they were expecting up to 500,000 (!) people to march down Piccadilly, and into Trafalgar Square, all protesting and waving flags; it was good humoured, but generally made it impossible for ordinary people to drive into central London. 

 

Wendy is always resourceful, and when we realised we were not going to be able to reach our pre-booked parking reservation in Arlington Street, she said, “Right, let’s find somewhere else to park!” and we headed towards Knightsbridge (where Harrods is). Down by a side road, we saw a big sign with a “P” parking sign up; as we inched down that road, someone got into a car parked on one side, and drove off, leaving a perfect space free for us. As a bonus, we then discovered that parking in this road is FREE after 1.30 p.m. on Saturdays – so we were very grateful for that!  

 

The only thing was, we were about a mile away from Fortnum and Mason, so we set off to walk all the way down Piccadilly, to reach Fortnum and Mason! Not forgetting I was wearing silvery spangle celebration shoes, with high heels, I thought this might be a problem, but remembering what they said about Ginger Rogers ("She does everything Fred Astaire does, except she does it backwards, and in high heels!") I rose to the challenge, and arrived for my tea in good time.

 

Al and Dani came up to London by train, so they didn’t have to find parking, and oh, it was such a happy afternoon. 


I had my special, very plain sandwiches ordered: simple white bread and butter (lots of extra butter, too!) and cucumber - no sauces, oils or trimmings required - and I was well served. Of course, I also enjoyed plain scones, butter and strawberry jam, and some elegant little cakes; and then our waitress brought out a plate with "Happy 80th Birthday" written in chocolate icing on the side, and two more special little cakes on it, just for me. 


It was such a special occasion! Apart from the cream tea, I also had many dear friends write to me, sending beautiful birthday gifts and cards with happy wishes, and telephone calls so that we could talk personally and share time on my birthday. 


When we set off for home, Al and Dani went back to Victoria Station to catch the train back to Hampshire; in consideration of my heroic walk to Fortnum and Mason, we then took a taxi back to where we had left our car, all the way back up Piccadilly. 


Wendy hailed a cab (with the march over, by then traffic was flowing!) and we were soon bowling merrily along. A special bonus for Wendy was that she remembered this was the first time she had been in a London Taxi Cab since she was 8 years old! All those years ago, when she was a little girl, Wendy, her dad and I had been to the New Theatre Royal London in Drury Lane, to see the musical Cats - the show based on the poems by TS Eliot, in "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats." Brian Blessed, playing the role of Old Deuteronomy, stayed on stage during the interval, and Wendy - who knew all the music from the show, joined him and sang a couple of songs with him. Whilst Wendy was on stage, her dad, who had bought us all an ice cream cone, then had to hold both her ice cream and his own. He was so proud and thrilled for her, he forgot to eat his; he had tears of happiness running down his face, not realising both ice creams were melting in the heat of the theatre! Such a tender memory that we all hold dear. 


My Grandma used to say, we must all treasure our memories, for as we get older, we need happy times to look back on. My 80th birthday will always remain in that wonderful place. 


                                                   
       Bob, Al and Dani
       Alexandra and Wendy




                                         Apollo guarding some of my beautiful birthday cards!


Tuesday, 17 February 2026

Ronald Binge - A Wonderful Northern Composer

Ronald Binge - A Wonderful Northern Composer

  
Last year, I was also very busy writing various articles and poems, and my piece on a wonderful northern composer called Ronald Binge was published in the November issue of Best of British magazine. I have always felt Ronald Binge’s name is perhaps not as well-known as it should be – he was a prolific creator of wonderful music, and a thoroughly kind human being as well.  

In the article, I also mention the Günter Kallmann choir. Whilst I was living and working in Durban, the choir came out on tour; I auditioned for Günter Kallman, and in due course was offered a place in his choir. In the meantime, in a “Sliding Doors” moment, I had also met my first Bob; I followed my heart, returned to England, and was very happy - although there was the (very) odd occasion, when I did momentarily wonder what might have happened, if I had gone to Berlin and Cologne instead?  A case of “The road not taken," eh?

If I am still up and awake in the early hours of the morning, at 12.48 I love to listen to the Shipping Forecast on the radio, which is gently introduced by Ronald Binge's "Sailing By." It is a wonderfully relaxing way to drift off for a good night's sleep! 







Saturday, 17 January 2026

Christmas 2025

Christmas 2025

A gentle, happy time. No fuss, no stress, lovely phone calls from our loved ones; a delicious traditional Christmas dinner - turkey, accompanied by my incomparable (so I am assured!) roast potatoes, carrots, peas, beans, Brussels sprouts, swede, Yorkshire puddings and sage and onion stuffing and, of course, gravy for any one of us that wanted it - followed by a slice of Tunis cake and a Chocolate Yule Log!

We had beautiful gifts to open and enjoy and the whole day flowed smoothly and gently. We don't like to rush!

We hope everyone for whom we love and care had an equally happy festive season; and that we shall all be blessed with a happy, healthy and prosperous 2026!





Sunday, 11 January 2026

The Lion City Of Singapore

The Lion City of Singapore

Over the years, Wendy and I have enjoyed several trips to Singapore.  Many of Wendy's visits have not necessarily been very long, as they were in the years after Uncle John had been stopped from visiting us in the summer months, and she started going to see him in Brisbane instead. 

Wendy would rent a two-bedroomed apartment the centre of the city, and hire a car; they both enjoyed a couple of weeks companionable touring around, and Uncle John felt he was still part of a family, with warmth, home-cooked food, and just plain, good old-fashioned happy times. 

On both the outward and homeward bound journeys, Wendy stopped for a few days in Singapore. Unless it is absolutely unavoidable, we will always take the opportunity to stop and rest properly, getting our feet up in a comfortable bed, in between long flights; and so it became a regular occurrence, for Wendy to visit Singapore twice each year. 

We had also been there twice before, back in 2001, when we first visited Uncle John in Brisbane, so we knew we loved it. Singapore Airlines had also won our hearts as our airline of choice!

After Uncle John died, there was no call for us to carry on flying to Australia, but that did not deter us from continuing our "love affair" with Singapore! and learning more about its deeply interesting history.

I was inspired to write a piece about its long association with Britain, and my article was published last year; I hope it will encourage other people to go and explore all the Island has to offer!
 










Wednesday, 24 December 2025

Apollo - A Christmas Cat

Apollo - A Christmas Cat

Well, here we are, on Christmas Eve! I don't know where the past weeks have flown to, but it has been a busy time - a couple of articles published (more of them later!) and writing letters and Christmas cards, sending off Christmas presents, and all the other preparations for Christmas, have now resulted in us being very happy and relaxed, and ready to celebrate this wonderful time of year. 

We never forget the true meaning of Christmas, and to anyone reading this blog, we wish you all a happy, gentle and peaceful time. 

Have a lovely day, and to sign off, I'll attach a pic of Apollo, in "Christmas Cat" mode, sitting on the little table where we were putting up some Christmas cards. Apollo always makes sure he is involved in everything!

God bless you all.






Monday, 27 October 2025

Bumble - A Personality Pekingese

Bumble - A Personality Pekingese 

When I was little, I was very scared of dogs; I was afraid they would launch themselves at me, jump up and knock me over - and maybe bite, as well! 

But then, when I was seven, my Mum and I visited a lady living in Kampala, and she had a beautiful Pekingese, called Quotoi - the most delightful, perfectly mannered pooch I had ever encountered. After this experience, I realised I was certainly not afraid of every dog in the world; much depended on the owners, and how they encouraged their pets to behave.

Fast forward 4 years; I am now 11, and the happy owner/companion of my own Pekingese, whom I called Bumble. 

Over the years, I had read the delightful books by Magdalen Eldon, starring Bumble the Peke, and it seemed right and fitting that my canine companion should share that name, too; he brought me much joy and happiness. 

We were all living in Dar-es-Salaam, and I was keen to enter Bumble in the dog show that was organised every year. I have such happy memories of that time, and a copy of the picture taken by the East African Standard photographer, that appeared in the paper the next day, is one I will treasure forever.


Fast forward a few decades, and I was inspired to write a poem about the Dar Dog Show, which I submitted it to The Daily Mail, one of our national newspapers. I was thrilled to see it published on Friday, 24th October, complete with a delightful cartoon, showing Bumble as I remember him best: bright eyed, ready for anything, and a dog full of love. He was certainly a personality dog, and we will never forget him.

In case it's a bit difficult to read my poem on the printed page, this is the typewritten version.  I hope anyone reading this blog will enjoy it!

DAR DOG SHOW


The Dar-es-Salaam Dog Show was a splendid affair

With dogs of all shapes and sizes;

As they proudly paraded with heads and tails high

The owners were eyeing the prizes

 

In the shimmering heat, with coats neatly clipped

The poodles pranced daintily round

In obedience trials, the Alsatians went miles

Ahead of any old pet from the pound.

 

There were so many classes with all sorts of breeds

Long hairs and short hairs; and then

The pedigreed Afghans, Chihuahuas and bloodhounds

Were out on the leash from their pen.

 

The East African Standard photographer wandered

through the throng of the Dog Show elite;

With a pic in the paper, a moment to savour

An extracurricular treat.

 

Our Bumble, the Peke, had élan, he had cheek

A personality dog at his best;

Perhaps not quite perfect, but he had a surfeit

Of lion dog pride in his breast.

 

As each section vied for the chance of a prize

At long last the Pekes were called on;

And solemnly wound past the judges around

Hoping a prize would be won.

 

And then the long waiting; the judges debating

We trembled with anticipation

Then in measured pronouncement, we heard the announcement

And heard our names called, with elation!

 

For a third-place rosette, for a wonderful pet!

No wonder our hearts beat so fast;

And on taking our bow, it didn't matter somehow,

There were only three dogs in the class.






Wednesday, 17 September 2025

A Flying Visit To Germany

A Flying Visit To Germany

It has been such a long time since I saw dear friends in Germany; the days, the weeks, the months - the years! - fly by so swiftly, and although phone calls and letters are all very well, it is so much nicer to have the chance to see lovely people face to face, and catch up properly on each other's news.

I also believe it is important to make the best of everything. If it isn't possible to enjoy a long visit with someone, even an hour or two is better than nothing, so when Wendy suggested we take a flight from London City Airport (LCY) to Frankfurt, hire a car to give us the opportunity of driving to a couple of places to see our friends, I jumped at the chance!

London City Airport is a great departure and arrivals hub; it's small and intimate, their record for punctuality is superb, and getting through security and passport control swift and easy. Another great point is that - unlike the major airports - although there is a charge for collecting passengers on arrival back home, they don't charge "dropping off" fees.

We had to get to LCY very, very early. I am such an owl, and getting up at 4.30 in the morning was a bit of a shock for me! but I managed just fine, and once in the airport, it was buzzing with life and excitement, and Wendy and I had a lovely breakfast before walking to the gate for our flight. 

The aircraft British Airways use at LCY are Embraer 190s, operated by BA City Flyer. The runway isn't long enough to accommodate bigger aircraft; Embraer planes have just one aisle, with two seats either side, and as the pilot pulls away and taxis round, getting lined up for take-off, it is all very slow and gentle. Then there is a pause, as though the plane is holding its breath, until suddenly the engines rev up, the acceleration gathers force and you go charging down the runway, swiftly gaining the speed to get airborne. 

Some people find the quick take-off unnerving, but I always think it feels a bit like a running race for Victorian ladies in long dresses: "Quick, girls, gather your skirts around you, and go faster and faster!" or cyclists pedalling away like mad, to get lift-off! 

Even though it is a short flight to Frankfurt, BA serve you a snack and a hot drink - more tea is always welcome for us! - and in no time at all we were landing at Frankfurt. Because we were on an Embraer plane, we parked some way away from the terminal, and a bus was waiting to take us to the arrivals hall. 

It felt so good to be back in Germany - I always feel it is like home from home! - and everything went brilliantly for Wendy and me. 

We collected the hire car; the gentleman on the desk was interesting, and very chatty; he told us his Mum is from Germany and his Dad is from Southend in Essex, so he comes over to England regularly to see his English family - a truly happy combination!

Wendy is so confident driving on what I call "the wrong side of the road" (oh dear! Wendy was not impressed with me! "No, mother!" she insisted, "it's just the "other side" of the road!") but of course it is right when you have a left-hand drive car. 

What a treat this visit was. We had a wonderful time seeing our lovely friends, catching up with everything we have been doing, and hoping it won't be long before we can meet up again. 

All too soon, we had to drive back to Frankfurt, and take the flight home to London. As we flew over the Thames, we could see the Dartford crossing and the A2 through Bexley; the views are spectacular, and Wendy managed to take a couple of photographs through the window.

We're all hoping it won't be long before we can make a return trip to see everyone again; but in the meantime, we carry home all their love and good wishes, and we have so many happy memories safely stored in our memory bank. 

View from the wingtip inbound over the QE2 Bridge

View of the A2 towards Bexley



 










Monday, 18 August 2025

If These Walls Could Talk ... Long Lost Hotels

If These Walls Could Talk ... Long Lost Hotels

An article about long lost hotels appeared recently in The Daily Telegraph, with information about these magnificent establishments, and the fate that befell them. After enjoying a glamorous heyday, they are now sadly crumbling into decay, their past glory long forgotten.

When I got to the section regarding the Grande Hotel in Beira, I was transported back to the time when I, too, enjoyed the delights of the romantically elegant art deco hotel - a time etched in my memory! - and I was inspired to write to the Editor, putting into words all the joy and delight the place once held for me. 

It may now have sunk to depths undreamt of in 1961 - the year when I first went there - but somehow, I am able to fly over these sad reports and just take a moment to remember how it was so long ago. In my imagination it is as beautiful as it ever was... and I can revisit it whenever I wish.  







My letter to the Editor of The Daily Telegraph:

Sir

It was very sad to be reminded of the fate of the once magnificent Grande Hotel in Beira, Mozambique (If these walls could talk: secrets of the lost hotels).

I used to live in Dar-es-Salaam in the former Tanganyika, now Tanzania, and on our trips back to England by sea, the ships used to call in at Beira, giving us lots of time to get to know it and, of course, The Grande Hotel. Our last visit was in 1961; I was a teenager, and it was such an honour to be invited to a dance in the beautiful ballroom.  

I remember especially the magnificent curving staircase, and ladies in elegant gowns ascending it, in order to pose dramatically at the top, before returning to join the dance. I did that, too, before dancing the last waltz to the melody “Auf Wiedersehen.” 

Whenever I hear that song, I recall the happy times; it’s so sad to know there is no vestige left of the Grande Hotel’s former glory, but I am so glad I was there!

Yours sincerely, Alexandra Wilde






Friday, 18 July 2025

Memories Of Morecambe

MEMORIES OF MORECAMBE








MEMORIES OF MORECAMBE: 

Due to length restrictions in the Journal, I could not include everything I learned from my original research into the 2004 tragedy of the Chinese cocklers, or about the geological development of Morecambe Bay during the last Ice Age. 

The following paragraphs also come with acknowledgements for some of Peter Wade's information, published on Wikipedia.

Morecambe is a seaside town nestling on the edge of Morecambe Bay, where the waters of (the Bay roll to shore. Morecambe Bay was born in the last Ice Age, when retreating glaciers dumped soft sediments, which formed expanses of sand; these are now up to 80m deep. Sea levels rose, and the area was flooded; the Bay is now broad and shallow, but with a tidal range of 10.5m at spring tides, and an ebbing tide that can retreat as far as 12km. This means not much of the Bay stayed the same for very long.  

At low tide, the Morecambe Sands are revealed, stretching for miles away from the shore. It is possible to walk across the sands, but visitors would be wise to arrange help from an experienced guide, who know precisely the safe places and times to cross, on any given day. The sands are dangerous for unwary visitors, or for those who do not know how swiftly the tide can turn. Spring tides can rush in at 10 miles an hour, sweeping away everything in its path. 

Tragedy struck in Morecambe Bay on the evening on 5 February, 2004, when at least 21 Chinese immigrants were drowned by the incoming tide. The group had been hired to harvest cockles, and during the investigation and trial that followed, it was shown that the labourers were inexperienced, spoke little or no English, and were unfamiliar with the area. Only fifteen members of the group managed to get back to shore. The Gangmaster who had organised the trip, and two of his associates, were found guilty of manslaughter, breaking immigration laws, and sentenced to several years in prison.

A folk song composed by folk artist Kevin Littlewood, "On Morecambe Bay," tells the story of the events; the song was later covered by folk musician Christy Moore. 

Morecambe takes its name from the bay which provides a foreground to its famous view of the Lake District hills. 

From the med-nineteenth century onwards, Morecambe grew around the village of Poulton-le-Sands, when a railway line, the Little North Western, was pushing through from Leeds and Bradford, to a new harbour on the shore of Morecambe Bay. The present-day Stone Jetty formed the harbour's western wall.

The railway brought not only goods and passengers for further north and west, but also visitors to the seaside, in need of refreshment, entertainment and accommodation. through the second half of the nineteenth century, Morecambe grew in response to these requirements; as a result, it still has a rich and varied collection of Victorian buildings, including the Winter Gardens, (1897). Schools and churches (several by the Lancaster architects Sharpe, Paley and Austin) indicate the growth of Morecambe's resident population during this era. 

During the 1930s, Morecambe enjoyed a second period of growth; at the end of the decade, and after the Depression, working people were becoming more affluent and seaside holidays became a viable possibility. At the end of the 1930s, paid holidays were enshrined in law, and Morecambe experienced a boom, with the new Midland Hotel built in 1933, the Lido (the Super Swimming Stadium of 1936) and pier pavilions, cinemas, shops and private housing all built in the Art Deco style.   

During the 1950s and 1960s, visitors still flocked to Morecambe, but with the advent of new package holidays being on offer, with guaranteed sunshine abroad, the cracks were beginning to show.  I was living in East Africa at that time, but I remember reading about restrictions on the amount of money holidaymakers were allowed to take abroad. If memory serves me correctly, I think the maximum amount allowed was only £50.00, which meant the option of paying the total cost of travel, hotel accommodation and food before leaving the UK, was very attractive; the chance to sample the delights of Spain encouraged people to travel abroad more than they had ever done before. The traditional British seaside holiday looked second-best, and boarding and guest house owners looked for other ways to attract visitors.  

As a result Morecambe, like many other seaside towns, fell into decline. Day trippers began to replace the week or fortnight long holiday-makers that encouraged Morecambe to flourish; attractions were neglected, seaside shows struggled to find audiences, and were closed and many of the places that were once frequented by visitors, became wastelands as buildings were demolished.

Morecambe still has many things to offer, especially of nature and history, the natural beauty of the bay and its sunsets. It continues to be a regular delight for bird watchers, including the late, inimitable comedian, Eric Morecambe, who was not only a keen "twitcher" himself, but also ensured the name "Morecambe" would resound through future generations of people who watch his shows on t.v., who still love and appreciate his talent, his humour, and his ability to lift people into a happy mood. 

1.      









Tuesday, 17 June 2025

Blaenau Ffestiniog - The Town That Roofed The World (Part 2)

Blaenau Ffestiniog - The Town That Roofed The World (Part 2)


After the Ffestiniog Railway opened in 1836, following the discovery of the Merrioneth vein in 1846 an incline was completed in 1848, connecting the railway to the quarry. This enabled the transportation of Llechwedd slate from Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog in wagons, using gravity to travel down the rail lines to the harbour. 

 

In 1840, the first building to be roofed in Welsh slate in Adelaide, South Australia, was the Friends’ Meeting House; remembering John Greaves’s family’s association with Quakers, it was a most appropriate beginning! 

 

From Porthmadog, slate was exported by sea to destinations around the world; production expanded from 2,900 tonnes of finished slate in 1851 to 7,600 tonnes in 1863. A dedicated wharf was built at Porthmadog to accommodate the fleet of sailing boats for this expanding market.

 

The great properties of Llechwedd slate were further advanced by the prizes it won at various exhibitions, including the Great Exhibition at Crystal Palace in 1851, where it was awarded a Class 1 Prize Medal. As its popularity grew, it was also given a contract to supply slate to Kensington Palace. 

 

Further successes were achieved at the London Exhibition in 1862, and the Paris Exhibition in 1867; Welsh slate was also promoted in Australia, at exhibitions in Sydney and Melbourne in 1879 and 1880. In 1910, it won the Gold Medal at the Beunos Aires World Fair in Argentina, which resulted in many more orders from South America. 

 

Although mainly used for roofing, slate proved a versatile and durable material; thicker slabs made excellent flooring and worktop surfaces, and memorial headstones. In 1851, during the gold rush in the State of Victoria in Australia, whole houses were made of Welsh slate slabs; what a wonderful material slate is!   

 

John Greaves’ partner, Edwin Shelton, had died in 1848, but Greaves continued to work the Glynrhonwy quarry until 1862. He continued his close association with the Ffestiniog Railway, acting as Treasurer from 1843-47, and twice holding the position of Chairman, firstly from 1843-47 and again from 1850-57. 

 

Very labour intensive, and at the height of its success the slate industry in Wales employed more than 17,000 men, and by the end of the 19th century, their hand-split slates were being exported all over the world.  

 

Today, visitors to Llechwedd Slate Caverns in Blaenau Ffestiniog enjoy an interesting and informative time exploring this fascinating underground world and learning how slate was mined and the slabs then split by hand and prepared for use. 

 

Alicia Enston and Phil Jones are both charismatic and highly experienced Historic Tour Guides.

 

Alicia is an archaeologist, and apart from acting as a guide for visitors, she is also involved in the developing the educational aspect of the site, creating a fascinating facility for children. 



The deep mine

 

Phil Jones is a musician and song writer, and the fifth-generation member of his family to work at the mine. His family were farriers, looking after the horses, with their skills handed down from father to son, to their grandchildren and to their great grandchildren. They were also blacksmiths, ensuring the tools were kept sharpened and prepared for re-shoeing the horses. Although horses did not work underground, it was important they were kept in fine fettle. 

 

Horses travelled down the line to Porthmadog in “dandy” wagons and, after the slate wagons had been unloaded, they then hauled the empty wagons back up to the mine, ready to be refilled with more dressed slate. 



Slate wagons on their downhill journey to Porthmadog

 

In the 1800s, sleds were used, and when the carts and wagons were loaded, the miners would wrap their hands in the horse’s manes, so they would not lose contact with the horses.

 

The men were steeped in the life and tradition of the slate mines. Working days were long and hard – the twelve-hour shifts began at 6.00 a.m. and ended at 6.00 p.m., with a half-day on Saturdays. People went to Church or Chapel three times on Sundays; apart from the services, the children also went to Sunday School, where they learned to read and write, so their attendance was not just for faith. 

 

Quarrymen worked in teams of up to 8; first prospecting for the slate, and then agreeing a contract to extract it, they were known as “Bargain Gangs.” “Rockmen” blasted the rock, producing blocks; they worked at an angle of 30 – 40 degrees, and the deeper they went into the mine, the better the quality of slate they extracted, but mining was a very dangerous job.

 

“Splitters” had the task of cleaving the blocks with a hammer and chisel, and “dressers” completed the work of trimming the slate into the sizes required for roofing.

 

Other members of the team included a “Rybelwr” – usually a young worker offering to help the gangs, and in the process learn his trade.. “Bad Rockmen” did not mean they were not good at their job! Their task was to remove the unworkable rock from the face of the mine, and the “Rubbish Men” cleared waste from the galleries; this slate formed the waste tips surrounding the quarry. 



Rugged scenery surrounding the mine at Llechwedd; and flourishing rhododendrons 

 

Apart from the inherent hazards of mining, men splitting and dressing the slate also fell ill with silicosis, a long-term lung disease caused by breathing in the fine crystalline silica dust produced by working the slate. 

 

Phil Jones gives demonstrations of slate splitting by hand, using the old techniques used by the Romans; in his witty and wonderfully informative talks, giving a clear picture of the miners’ arduous and dangerous work, he makes those early miners come to life.



Phil Jones, delivering his talk and demonstrations

 

Phil explains: “If the slate is of poor quality, it is a hard job; but with good slate, it’s a pleasure!” Slate splitting chisels are held against the top edge of the slate, and tapped gently into it with a hammer; if it is a good piece, as the slate is cleaved, it will split cleanly, and open up, “like a book.” Then the slate is dressed, to turn it into a roofing slate; again, a very hard, long and laborious – and very dusty – job.




Phil Jones splitting the slate and, below, 



Dressing a roof slate 

 

In the early days, there was 90% waste of the slate, but now this is reversed, and there is only 10% that is not used.

 

John Greaves took out a patent for a dressing machine, consisting of two rotating blades, which gave the required chamfered edge for the tiles; a great improvement on the original methods. 

 

Sizing sticks used by the miners measured 36” x 4 ½”, and most of the slate sizes were given female names. Some were named after noblewomen, for example, Empress, Princess and Duchess, although whether other names - such as Broad Countess, Broad Lady and Wide Lady - caused offence, could be open to discussion!   



Size names of slate


The miners' slide

 

John Greaves also formed a partnership with Lord Newborough and William Edward Oakeley. William Oakeley was the landowner of Allt-fawr; he inherited the Plas Tan y Bwlch estate in 1868 from the widow of his father’s cousin, who had died childless. 

 

Penrhyn and Dinorwig were the two largest slate quarries in the world, and in 1878, William Oakeley amalgamated them into a single business; the Oakeley mine at Blaenau Ffestiniog was the largest underground slate mine in the world.  

When William Oakeley died on 1st February 1912, his coffin was taken by rail from his home at Cliffe House to Blaenau Ffestiniog, and finally by lorry to St Twrog’s Church in Maentwrog. Hundreds of miners from the Oakeley quarry followed the lorry, and William Oakeley was interred in the Church cemetery.  His death was reported in The Times, and a report of the funeral procession appeared a few days later. 

For visitors to Blaenau Ffestiniog wishing to immerse themselves in history and some wonderfully detailed murals depicting slate miners at work - painted by talented artists - they could do no better than to visit The Oakeley Arms Hotel, a grade II listed building near Maentwrog. 


Because it belonged to the Tan y Bwlch Estate, the hotel was originally known as the Tan y Bwlch Inn, and the original building dates back to the 17
th century. 

Enjoying a leisurely lunch, or a longer stay at the hotel, surrounded by atmospheric art work, gives people the opportunity to learn and absorb more information about the life of the slate miners of Blaenau Ffestiniog. It has truly earned its title of “The Town that Roofed the World.”

 


 

 

 

 

Saturday, 31 May 2025

Blaenau Ffestiniog - The Town That Roofed The World (Part 1)

Blaenau Ffestiniog - The Town That Roofed The World (Part 1)

Last summer, we travelled by train to Blaenau Ffestiniog, specifically to discover everything I could about the slate industry in Wales, and particularly in Blaenau Ffestiniog; and what a remarkable visit it turned out to be. 

The Station at Porthmadog

I am not a geologist, but with the help of the wonderfully friendly people at the Llechwedd mine, I learned so much about this wonderful material and the following two articles were published in a Welsh magazine. I have so many ideas for pursuing other "buried" treasures of Wales - in particular coal, gold and granite, but that will have to wait until I have a good length of time to carry out some uninterrupted research! 

The following two articles were published in a Welsh magazine, and I hope all those who read them will enjoy learning something about this wonderful material, and how it came literally to "roof the world." 

BLAENAU FFESTINIOG – THE TOWN THAT ROOFED THE WORLD (Part 1)

 

Forged in a crucible of over 500 million years, slate is a marvellous material. From its beginnings as mud on the seabed, to compressions and heat and volcanic upheaval, at last it rests in seams far above the sea, ready to be mined or quarried and used by those able to release it from the embrace of the rock in which it lies. Proof of its watery origins can be found in fossils left embedded in the slate, such as white trilobites, sometimes referred to as “milk spots” by the miners. Although their presence means a slate will not split properly, they remain a delicate confirmation of how slate began its life.  

 

Slate deposits in Wales are found from three geological ages: the Cambrian, which dates from 541 - 485.4 million years ago; the Ordovician, dating from 485.4 - 443.8 million years ago; and the Silurian period, dating from 443.8 - 419.2 million years ago. It is the Ordovician deposits that were found and mined in Blaenau Ffestiniog. 

 

Welsh slate has been extracted for over three thousand years. The Romans also knew of its properties and during the first century, it was they who used slate that was split as roofing material for their villas. 

 

Two men in particular were involved in the finding, and then transportation of Welsh slate across the world. 

 

The first, John Whitehead Greaves, was born in 1807, into a Quaker family in Radford, Warwickshire. He had a great sense of adventure, and first planned to emigrate to Canada, but later decided to postpone that ambition, and went into partnership with Edwin Shelton, to search for slate in Wales. They took out what was called a “Take Note” option, which was a short-term exploratory lease for 21 years; John Greaves was in charge at Bowydd, with Edwin Shelton taking control at Glynrhonwy.

 

Greaves soon realised there had to be large slate deposits under the area of Llechwedd y eyd, and turned his attention to that area. 

 

He opened the Llechwedd slate quarry in Blaenau Ffestiniog in 1846 but after three years of having had no success, his bank would not lend him any more money; the enterprise almost bankrupted him. 

 

This lack of funds meant he could not pay his men, but some of them had faith in Greaves’ vision, and carried on working for nothing. Their trust paid off; a few weeks later, the large vein, known as the “Old Merioneth Vein,” was found.

 

The different veins of slate have been given appropriate names, imaginatively and creatively illustrating their properties, such as the New Vein; the Back Vein; the Pig’s Vein (so difficult to extract!) and the Red Vein – with iron pirates, sometimes referred to as Fool’s Gold; but in the Merioneth Vein was a prize deposit, creating such great industrial success for Blaenau Ffestiniog.

 

The second man to have a great impact on the slate industry was William Alexander Maddocks. He was born in 1773 and, although his family originally hailed from Denbighshire, he was brought up in London, and became a wealthy London MP. He had bought various parcels of land in Wales, and conceived a grand plan of building a sea wall – the Cob – to reclaim land for agriculture. He built the towns of Porthmadog (originally called Port Madoc, it has also been referenced as Port Maddox!) and Tremadog. 

 

The cob was constructed between 1807 and 1811; at first, William Maddocks hoped that it would be included in the route for shipping bound for Ireland, but when an improved road, passing through Snowdonia and Holyhead, was developed instead, that dream was thwarted.  

 

However, the diversion of the River Glaswyn resulted in a change of direction in its flow, and caused it to scour out a deeper trench; this formed a natural harbour, deep enough to enable small ocean-going sailing ships to dock and be loaded with slate for export to America and other countries overseas. Porthmadog itself evolved into a very successful port, and in 1825, public wharves were built.

 

William Maddocks died in 1828, before the construction of the Ffestiniog Railway; after the railway was brought into operation, for the last 1.5 km of the journey, the narrow-gauge trains crossed the Cob, bringing large shipments of slate to the port.





On the Cob

 

In 1831, Government duty was abolished on Welsh slate, and in 1832, an Act of Parliament, called the Festiniog Railway Act (the spelling with a single “F” is the official title of the company in the local act) was passed.  Most of the capital was raised in Dublin by Henry Archer, the company’s first Secretary and Managing Director, and the railway was constructed between 1833 and 1836. In 1921, most railways were amalgamated into four regional groups (which in 1948 became British Railways), but the Festiniog Railway Company remained independent; it also owns the Welsh Highland Railway. 

Nowadays, heritage narrow-gauge trains still use the Cob, to the delight of passengers enjoying excursions provided by the Ffestiniog and Welsh Highland Railways.

 

The Cob Toll House operated from 1811 but from about 1900, it was taken over to be used as an office for the Parc and Croesor slate quarries, and was clad in slate to show off their wares. In 1978, The Rebecca Trust (a local body that had been opposed to tolls), bought the rights, and a toll of 5p per vehicle continued for 25 years, with surplus funds distributed to local good causes. When the Welsh Government bought the Cob from the Trust, the tolls ended on 29 March 2003. Now called Bridge Cottage, it is a Grade II listed building.

 

THE GREAT FIRE OF HAMBURG

 

Following the Great Fire of Hamburg, the rebuilding of the city created an unprecedented demand for Welsh slate.

 

Reminiscent of the Great Fire of London in 1666, in the spring of 1842 a devastating fire swept through the port city of Hamburg in Germany; it began in a cigar factory in Deichstrasse in the Altstadt area of the city. The alarm was raised at about 1.00 a.m. on 5th May 1842, but the weather had been very dry, with strong and changeable winds, and the fire spread swiftly, consuming the wooden and half-timbered houses; by dawn, much of the Altstadt was in flames.

 

After three days and nights, and a blessed shift in the wind, the fire was at last extinguished on 8thMay; by the time it was out, 51 people – including 22 firefighters - had lost their lives. 1,700 houses, as well as major public buildings, had been destroyed, leaving approximately 20,000 people homeless. 

 

The city would be rebuilt quickly; a Technical Commission was established, with a British engineer, William Lindley, included on the panel. He proposed a reconstruction plan that maintained property lines, building with brick; building with wood was no longer allowed, and firewalls and fireproof gables were authorised. It was also decided to use slate for the new buildings, which led Germany to becoming an important market for Ffestiniog slate.

 

From there, the fame of the unique properties of slate spread to other countries in Europe, to the Americas and further afield, to the other side of the world, in Australia.