William Innes As a Young Man

William Innes as a young man

THE FOURTH GENERATION

William Innes Rhosgoch, Entrepreneur

As I wrote this chapter, it became clear to me that my grandfather, known as Taid,42 was a complex man of many parts and that no single description would capture him, except possibly “entrepreneur.”

To provide for his family, he operated several small businesses in the rural community in which he lived; not unusual in small com- munities even today, where the size of the local market cannot support the same degree of specialization that a city can. And so to make ends meet, he was, at one and the same time, an innkeeper, farmer, pig dealer and horse trader; as well as the owner of a bot- tling business for mineral waters, a petrol station and possibly a taxi service. With this history, is it any wonder that my father, my brother, Bill, and I, are driven personalities?

And a further reflection: obviously, he didn’t do all this on his own; he had to work with and through others. In those days, of course, there were men and maids to lighten the load, but getting along with people and earning their respect was then, as now, an important ingredient of success. In my father’s case, I rather suspect that it was from watching his father in operation that he developed the leadership philosophy and skills that would stand him in good

42 “Taid” is Welsh for grandfather.

2 stead for the rest of his life and which, in some measure, he passed along to Bill, and me.

Of William Innes Rhosgoch’s early life, little is known beyond the fact that he was born on December 27, 1873 at 49 Abbey Street, Everton, and that sometime later, before 1881, the family moved to 41 Morland Street, also in Everton.

In his notes, my father had this to say: “The family had an influen- tial friend who had made a successful career in the White Star Line whose name was Appleton. He took an interest in father as he was growing older, and attaining the age of 18 or so, induced him to consider a vocation in the catering service, that is the victualling services supporting the White Star ships. Thus it was that he had to spend time (3 or 4 voyages I think) back and forth across the North Atlantic, actually being a practicing Steward, before returning ashore and joining in the administrative side of supplying the ships with their provisions. He must have progressed very quickly and been extremely careful with his money for by the age of 27 he had left the White Star Line and had come to Rhosgoch, a village in the North West of Anglesey, Mr Appleton then having retired to Rhosybol nearby.” Why Mr. Appleton, an Englishman, would choose to retire to a small, somewhat remote village on the island of Anglesey in Wales remains a mystery.

From this and other sources, we develop a picture of William as a hardworking and ambitious young man, intent on self-improve- ment. In my possession, I have his copy of English Grammar and Analysis by W. Davidson and J.C. Alcock, dated September 21, 1891. This presumably was the required text for a course that he took. I also have his Collected Works of Shakespeare, dating from the same period. From his marriage certificate and census records, we know that his hard work paid off, for in relatively short order he progressed from clerk to bookkeeper within the White Star Line.

3 On December 29, 1896, at the age of twenty-three, he married Elizabeth Jane Williams, daughter of Hugh Williams, a police of- ficer, at the Parish Church in Heswall, Cheshire. He was twenty- three; she was four years his senior. After their marriage, they set up house at 21 Premier Street, Everton, not far from his parents’ home.

Among the few things which I have of his is a little blue Roman missal dated November 23, 1900. It suggests that around this time he explored Roman Catholicism.43 What drew him to the Roman Church, we don’t know. It appears to have been a passing phase, however, because for the rest of his life he attended the Anglican Church and, at one point, I believe, he considered a late vocation to the ministry.

In 1901 he left Liverpool and a promising career in the White Star Line for Anglesey, accompanied by his wife, Elizabeth. At first sight, this would seem an odd move; a retrograde step for a young man with ambition; that is until one considers that William’s mentor in the White Star Line, Mr. Appleton, had recently retired to Rhosybol, and that Elizabeth, whose father’s family came from Anglesey, would, in a sense, be returning to her roots. Whatever his motives – to please his wife, his mentor or both – for William, given his background victualling ships, becoming an innkeeper would have seemed a logical next step, perhaps the only career move available in a deeply rural setting to someone with his skills

43 A Simple Prayer Book, published by the Catholic Truth Society in 1899. It is signed and dated November 23, 1900.

4 and abilities; and so he became the innkeeper of the Rhosgoch Ho- tel44 a few miles from Rhosybol, where Appleton had settled. To- day, the hotel is a curry house and pub.

I used to stay with my grandmother during school holidays and on more than one occasion, she told me that my grandfather was led to believe that he would inherit Appleton’s estate, Appleton being childless. To William’s great surprise and consternation, this didn’t happen, although one suspects that Appleton was very generous to him during his lifetime.

In retrospect, the move to Anglesey would seem to have been a stroke of great good fortune, for in 1907, six years later, the White Star Line took the decision to move its transatlantic steamer oper- ations from Liverpool to Southampton; and then, five years later, on April 15, 1912, its flagship, Titanic, sank with great loss of life.

In his notes, my father tells us that the hotel was the “hub” of the Rhosgoch Postal District. Seeing the hotel today, it is hard to imagine that it was at the hub of anything. There is an air of dilapi- dation about the place, and the railway line, once its lifeblood, fell into disuse many years ago. But a hundred years ago, during my grandfather’s tenure, the place was a hive of activity.

Initially, at least, William’s first wife must have been an asset for, according to my father, she was known to be attractive and played the piano; and by other accounts, was an actress. He goes on to conjecture that because “she was reasonably well educated and of a rather sophisticated type for the rural environment of Anglesey, she found life boring.” Bored and barren, without children to oc-

44 The Rhosgoch Hotel is known today as “The Ring,” which may be a corrup- tion of “Yr Inn,” though others suggest that there might have been a cock- fighting ring on the site.

5 cupy her, she strayed, and after thirteen years, in August 1909, Wil- liam sued for divorce on the grounds of her infidelity. He named as his wife’s co-respondent, John William Jones, a master painter, of 8 Twrcuhelyn Street, Llanerchymedd. The case came before the High Court of Justice in London, on November 30, 1909, at which occasion neither the respondent nor the co-respondent were present, and neither party offered any defence.

How Rare and Expensive was a Divorce in 1910?

Approximately 240,000 men were married in England and Wales in 1910. Of those, only 240 gave their previous marital status as divorced; or in percentage terms 1/10th of 1%. The cost was £120 if uncontested but up to £800 if contested, and the process took about a year.

William was represented by the London firm of Fowler & Co. He petitioned the Court for £500 plus costs, which the jury reduced to £150 with costs – about £13,500 in today’s pounds; although the income equivalent would be more like £80,000 today. Of this event, my father simply says, “in those days getting a divorce was an expensive matter and it must have set Father back quite a bit.” Rare and expensive. One wonders how a young innkeeper could afford such an expense. One can only speculate that perhaps his mentor, Appleton, came to his aid.

6 In any event, on June 27, 1910, William was granted his final decree and two years later married his housekeeper, Sarah Elizabeth Wil- liams, who was to become my grandmother, or “Nain” in Welsh. In the divorce papers, Elizabeth Jane, the first wife, gives her residence as Sport-y-Gwynt near Benllech, which, it so happens, is also the same small place from which Sarah Elizabeth came, raising the possibility that both wives were related in some way, perhaps, cousins.

Sarah Elizabeth, known from now on as Nain, came from a family of seafarers. Her father was a mariner and her brothers followed their father to sea. William, the eldest, was drowned at sea when his ship, the SS Dotterel, was sunk by a mine off the coast of France on November 29, 1915. Jack, the middle brother was also in the merchant navy, and the youngest, Bob, was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy.45

My father gives the following account of how my grandfather met my grandmother: “In the period preced- Bob Williams ing his arrival in Anglesey to live, Fa- ther had visited Anglesey aboard the pleasure ships plying from

45 Bob lived at Glandwr, Benllech and was married to a District Nurse.

7 Liverpool to the Menai Straits, the St Elvies, the La Marguerite, and so forth and had visited the beach at Benllech.

He said that, whilst there, he saw Mother and a friend walking on the strand and his curiosity was risen to such an extent that he took

Nain's youngest brother Bob Williams at the helm of the family yacht at Borthwen, Benllech the trouble to find out more about her and in due course, following his divorce, he married her, he then being 18 years older than she. That was in 1913.” While true, this account glosses over a rather inconvenient fact.

Sarah Elizabeth joined the household at the hotel long before Eliz- abeth Jane departed the scene, in just what capacity we are not sure; and John, my grandfather’s younger brother, was quite smitten with her.(Remember the post card). It has been suggested that it was she who alerted William to the situation of his wife’s infidelity; after which, my father records, “on the pretext of going to Liver- pool, he joined forces with his young brother John.” Together, they caught the train from Rhosgoch to Bangor but got off at the next station, Llanerchymedd, and hightailed it back to the hotel to find his wife in flagrante delicto; after which he instituted divorce pro- ceedings.With Elizabeth Jane out of the picture, Sarah Elizabeth

8 became William’s housekeeper and is so described in the census of 1911, the year John dies at the very young age of twenty-eight. Heartbroken and united by their love for John, William and Sarah marry two years later, on January 29, 1913, at the New Tabernacle Chapel, 46 according to the rites of the Calvinistic Methodist Church – this out of necessity, as the Anglican Church, at the time and for many years later, did not marry divorced persons. Harry Valentine Morton was one of the witnesses. My grandmother, who was a Methodist at the time, was later confirmed in the Church of Wales (Anglican) and became, like my grandfather, a staunch An- glican.

Leaving one island for another, William and Sarah Elizabeth travelled south to the Isle of Wight to honeymoon at Ventnor, staying at “Hillside,” a private boarding establishment, five minutes’ walk from the railway station and a short distance from the sea. The hotel described itself as “all that can be desired to make a pleasant and cheerful home, being situate in the most sheltered, picturesque and charming part of the far-famed Undercliff Scenery, and is provided with the best accommodation.” It also boasted “a liberal table” and offered private sitting rooms.

46 The Tabernacle Chapel has been converted into condominiums.

9 The Hillside is still in business today as a rather smart boutique hotel. It describes itself as a charming eighteenth-century thatched country house overlooking the Victorian town of Vent- nor. Not so very different from the way it described itself a hundred years ago.

At one time, it had been the home of the poet John Sterling, and was often visited by his great friend Thomas Carlyle, as well as by Dickens and Thackeray. With his fondness for literature, that would have pleased William. Who knows? Perhaps it was the reason they went there in the first place. Why else would they have gone to Ventnor for their honeymoon?

One can imagine Sarah Elizabeth’s pride on returning home. The mariner’s daughter from Benllech had done very well for herself, had married the boss. But theirs was never to be a union of equals, and for the rest of their marriage some of the dynamic of an une- qual relationship remained, whether that of father and “daughter", given their age difference, or master and servant; but for all that, it was a happy union; only odd in the sense that neither spoke the other’s first language and one was old enough to be the other’s father. How did they communicate?

He spoke English to her and ordered her about as men did in those days. She replied in English, although occasionally she responded in Welsh, which he understood; his Welsh, as my brother recalls it, wasn’t particularly good. The saving grace in all of this was her sense of humour and fun. She had lovely Celtic eyes, the colour of cornflowers, radiating warmth, amusement and a certain mischie- vousness.

10 Out of the Mouths of Babes

I once said to my mother as a little boy, probably no more than five years of age, “Why does Taid treat Nain like a servant?” While this might seem very precocious and perceptive for a boy of five, I was brought up in the West Indies, surrounded by servants, and therefore very conscious of the power differences between people, as expressed in language and other ways. I also observed that my father treated his mother in the same somewhat dismissive, manner, which I found upsetting.

Bill, my brother, confirms this and rightly points out that Dad’s brother and sister had quite a different relationship with their mother; for them, she was a mother.

They would have returned to the hotel to be greeted by well-wish- ers but also by wagging tongues. For some people, the divorce would have been scandalous, and the details of “who wronged whom” irrelevant; nor would they forget the new wife’s former place and status in the household. One wonders how they coped, especially as the innkeeper’s role is a very public one. The answer is that they never discussed it. In fact, my father and his brother, Bill, had to find out about it in a most unkind way, from a stranger. They were travelling by train from Rhosgoch to Llangefni to attend the grammar school, as they did daily, when a stranger took it upon himself to fill them in.

This was not told to me by my father, so I don’t know the circumstances; however, one can only imagine how painful it was. But this wasn’t the only way in which the divorce cast a long, painful shadow; it did so in other ways too. My Aunt Lothian told me, for instance, that for years, when going to church in Rhosybol, she

11 would take the back road from Penbol because taking the front road would mean passing the Methodist Chapel and encountering the disapproving looks of those attending.

When I told this to my cousin’s wife, Jenny, she hooted with laughter. “How ridiculous,” she exclaimed, “especially when you think that John Edwards, Lothian’s father-in-law, a promi- nent member of the Chapel’s congregation, was known to have sired at least two illegitimate children by different maids at Penbol.”

I rather suspect that the shadow cast by the divorce also influenced my aunt’s decision to destroy my grandfather’s diaries, containing, as they likely did, uncomfortable truths about the divorce and other family skeletons.

What was life like for this odd couple in one of the less anglicized parts of Wales? Again, we can turn to my father’s notes to gain a sense of the times.

“Rhosgoch, being on the railway line, was a transportation hub for a very large area of North Anglesey, from Llanbadrig and Cemlyn right through to Bull Bay and back to Rhosgoch, and as all move- ment was by cart and horses they converged on Rhosgoch and all the horses had to be watered and fed, and sometimes stabled.”

As my father remembers it, farmers used to arrive, each in his open, horse-drawn trap, to catch the train to Llanerchymedd and Llangefni markets.

“To await the farmers’ return in the evening, usually on a Wednes- day or Thursday, the traps were parked in front of the Hotel and its outbuildings and the horses stabled. It was quite a sight, often

12 impressive depending on the alcoholic state of their owners, to see them and their horses showing off as they commenced their journeys home – horses prancing on being shafted then, with arched neck, snorting and high stepping, taking off to an exhibition of ar- tistic whip brandishing by the owners. I recall one farmer in par- ticular who was reputed to be a particularly fast driver and of pu- gilistic traits – Evans Nannar from one of the most distant farms called Nannar near Llanfairyngoronwy, about 8 miles away.”

Dad then goes on to talk about transport in the community generally. “The traps contrasted greatly with the very sturdy farm carts drawn by one or two heavy Shire horses hitched in tandem.47 Wag- ons were not used in Anglesey because of the acutely winding, nar- row roads and steep hills.”

By today’s standards everything moved at a snail’s pace so that the time spent on travel was a major consideration. Increasingly, people were using the railway in order to shop at Llangefni and Bangor and to refer to professionals, or to travel beyond. In the country- side, doctors always caused somewhat of a problem as they were widely spaced and travelled by buggy. The spread of motor cars, which was gathering apace, must have reduced sickness-related anxiety greatly.

Given this level of horse-related activity, it is not surprising that the hotel employed a hostler to attend to the stabling of horses;48 but the advent of the motorcar would soon change all that. My father recalls his father’s first motor car, purchased in 1922.

47 They are the heaviest breed of horses, reputed to have evolved from the charger horses of the Norman knights. 48 Census form for 1911.

13 “When I was about eight, Father bought his first car, a Willis Over- land (probably copied in the UK from a U.S. make). It was a five-seater touring car with a canvas hood and two windshields. For some time it was the only one in a widespread farming district where all roads were gravel finished.”

“He used to pick Tom Stanley’s grandfather49 up at the Rail- way Station and take him to Penrhos,” Jenny informed me recently. And so, in addition to all his other enterprises, it appears he also offered a taxi service, of a kind. Whether this was done as a courtesy to Lord Stanley or offered more generally, we don’t know.

But there was another reason for the hustle and bustle at the hotel. It was also a centre for the island’s pig trade and was so until the 1930s; thousands of pigs were railed out through Rhosgoch Sta- tion. Local historian Eric Jones records that: “In the early years of the 20thC the inn was kept by William Innes, a Scots pig dealer who spoke pidgin Welsh with a Glasgow accent. Pigs were cor- ralled in the inn’s yard where Innes provided a weighing service for

49 Edward Lyulph Stanley, 4th Baron Sheffield.

14 pigs. He had a reputation for being straight and honest.”50 Here is my father’s description of pig weighing: “We boys entered into it with much gusto and mirth. It was always a challenge weighing large sows and boars as they could be vicious and sometimes dan- gerous. Father had had so much practice that he had developed great agility in selecting and placing the weights as well as in adding them up and quoting the results in scores.”

Pidgin Welsh or not, according to my father, his father learned Welsh quickly, and well enough to read the lessons in church; as a result, the Welsh-speaking farmers around sought his advice as did members of the community generally.

“With the prospect of War break- ing out (the First World War), Fa- ther obviously became very con- cerned about leaving a young widow (my mother) behind, should he be called up. He had al- ready bought two small farms, one, Glasgrig Bach, and the other, Plas Main, and had a man in each who did the actual farming under his directions.”

Whether as a deliberate strategy or not, he quickly made himself indis- pensable to the war effort by becoming a horse trader, as my father explains: “As the British Army at that time was overwhelmingly horse dependent for transport and fighting vehicles, there was an

50 © Copyright Eric Jones, and licensed for reuse under this Creative Com- mons Licence.

15 enormous demand for feed for the horses and indeed for the horses themselves and with all his farming contacts, he became an obvious selection for a lot of the Army business. He was thus not called up to do any actual fighting. His wartime activities obviously made him even more conversant with the farming community and added to his post war business. Fortunately he had paid his debts as he went along and his finances at the end of the war were very manageable.”

Over the course of the four years that the Great War lasted, Wil- liam and Sarah Elizabeth, whom he called Ella, had three children in relatively quick succession: Robert Francis, my father, William Stow and Lothian Eliza.

“The immediate post-war period up until about 1926, was a period of great farming activity and prosperity which saw farmers who had rented their farms heretofore putting down money in the hope that they would complete the purchase of the farm in due course. And then the Depression came, the Agricultural prosperity col- lapsed and farmers went bankrupt. Unable to complete the purchase of their farms, the ownership reverted to the original owners.

“Because of his fluency in Welsh, his business acumen and learn- ing, Father became much in demand during this time of financial distress, writing letters for the relatively less literate farmers in trouble – which again added to his stature in the general locality.

“Interestingly, amongst those beholden to him for this sort of service was Tom Edwards’s father at Penbol who had bought his farm from the Marquis of Anglesey. By trading in cattle during the post- war era and shipping them off to Manchester to market, he was able to make enough profit to keep himself out of the clutches of his former landlord and retain the ownership of Penbol. It was Fa- ther who conducted the written negotiations on his behalf.

16 “In the postwar years, father added to his farming activity by being able to rent land to graze cattle, which was a Godsend in helping to see him through the post-war depression and the calamities of the early 1930s.”

One of the people from whom he rented land to supplement his own holdings was Sir William Bulkeley Hughes Hughes-Hunter, who lived at Brynddu, not far away from the hotel in Llanfechell. He and Sir William were members of the same Masonic Lodge, the St. Eleth. On one of the few pages of his diary spared from my aunt’s flames, he speaks of Sir William’s death and feels obliged to record: “Sir William has always been the object and subject of much objectionable talk. Whatever the truth of this talk, I person- ally must testify that what little I had to do with him I always found him courteous and honourable.” I record this here because I think it speaks to the character of the man.

Masonic Parade, Anglesey. (Taid eight from the front)

And other passages are equally telling. There is no gossip or hint of malice. He is very matter of fact; events are carefully recorded, often in considerable detail. Accuracy and truthfulness are clearly

17 important to him, reflecting, perhaps, his early training as a bookkeeper.

This attention to detail so evident in William’s diaries was a characteristic passed down from father to son, where it found its full flowering in my father. Being of a more intuitive nature myself, it was sometimes the cause of friction between my father and me.

Times were hard in the aftermath of the Great Depression and Dad records: “We survived because of the absence of debt and because of tight-fisted living. It was a hard school for any young- ster but one that undoubtedly made us motivated and hard-working at our respective vocations.” And, I might add, left its impres- sion on him for the rest of his life; not that he was mean or tight- fisted – in fact, quite the opposite – but rather to say that he was always careful with his money, and a saver until the end of his life.

I have several of my grandfather William’s letters written to my father in Jamaica just before and during the Second World War, extracts from which I include below. They are beautifully written in a strong, flowing hand, with evident enjoyment. They cover the period from 1938 to 1940 and give us a picture of everyday life at the hotel and in the community generally. Reading them, one can only wish that more of his letters had been preserved.

A Father’s Concern “June 11, 1935 I have been going over the old papers in the sitting room and find that there are colonies which make their appointments independ- ent of the Colonial Office. Do you think you ought to put your name before them? If so there is no time to lose as they recom- mend application early in the year. You will find enclosed a cutting which bears on the conversation we had the other evening.”

18 (My father, acting upon his father’s advice, did indeed join the Co- lonial Service and was posted to Jamaica.)

A Thorough Airing “June 27, 1935 Evidently you are in for a pleasant holiday if you are favoured with good weather. We would press upon you to be very careful if you get wet. Do not put anything on unless it is thoroughly dried and aired.

(Lothian, Dad’s sister, took this preoccupation with dampness to new heights. On being shown to a hotel room, her first act would be to whip out her compact, draw back the covers, and hold the mirror to the sheets to see if it frosted over. Her test, of course, was only effective because the rooms were icily cold!)

Bill’s Day Out “August 14, 1938 Bill enjoyed himself with the men last Saturday. They went to Llanberis and started to climb the mountain but rain and mist came on and they retraced their steps. Went to Denbigh and called at The Vaults,51 saw several of the Mill family including Angharad and then made for Rhyl. Had some fun in the amusement park where Bill beat Scarff by 47 lbs at the lifting machine.”

Busy at the Bar “Sunday was a fine day until the afternoon, when we had thunder and rain. Very busy. All the Plas Penmynydd crowd came, including that girl from London. The double gins and large sherries were being stowed away and altogether we had a good day. They all asked kindly after you.”

51 The Old Vaults public house was kept by one of the Lloyds, my great-grandmother’s family. It is a four-storey, brick-built, mid-eighteenth-century structure with a colonnaded loggia on the High Street in Denbigh.

Alarm Bells “September 4, 1938 Captain Fairchild and a Dr. from Bangor have just been in and left nine shillings behind them. The Daily Mail I sent you was a gift of Fairchild. I sent it so that you may see the alarmist stuff we are called on to digest daily.”

Keeping Emotions in Check “October 30, 1938 Glad to hear of your interest in the natives. I always thought you would come to that for you have an Uncle Tom’s Cabin’s heart. Still, be careful and keep a rein on your emotions.”

A Flash of Wry Humour “November 30, 1938 The marshes are all flooded and the rivers are torrents. About nature restoring the balance, I had no idea she was so much in debt.”

Shooting Parties “Yes we get the shooters now and again. Mr Freme and party have been several times and we are expecting them on the 25th inst. for a hot lunch. A week or so ago we had eight of them for bacon and eggs. Captain Fairchild comes often and when Mr Fair and Mr Dobson come with him it is hijinks. Col. Dodd comes now and again.”

As Slim as a Schoolboy “Did I tell you that Sir Thomas52 is in a bad state of health? He, I understand, is a little better and is getting up for a short time. Bill tells me that he has wasted away and that he is as slim as a schoolboy. You will remember that when we saw him he was quite a

52 Major Sir Thomas Lewis Hughes Neave, 5th Bt, Willie Stow’s landlord at Plas Uchaf.

20 sturdy block of a man. We hope that he will pull through so that there will be no upset for a few years at least.”

Father Puts His Foot Down “Bill has had a letter from Savills in response to one of his giving him authority to have some repairs done and some new fixtures put in and he is asked to look after the job and see that value is had. Also they wanted him to take on Tyn Groes (another farm on the Neave estate, Dulas). This of course he will not do. Good heavens the rain is coming down, for the last quarter hour it has been aw- ful.”

A New Frock for Lothian “December 11, 1938 Mamma and Lothian were in Liverpool yesterday having gone there to get some things for Lothian. They arrived back by 11:45 and Lippie53 was here waiting for them. I should think that the two together quite enjoyed themselves and also succeeded in purchas- ing an evening dress with which Lothian is very pleased. This is in preparation for the Harriers dance.”

Neither a Borrower nor a Lender Be54 “The chap who has come to Hafodal Llyn to farm with a wife, six children and two Lurchers has been here and also to Penbol asking for a loan of £200 without security. I need not tell you that he met with no sympathy at Penbol and in the light of the proverbial blood and a stone he did not succeed here. He made a second effort to

53 Bobbie and Taid’s nickname for Tom Edwards, Lothian’s husband-to-be, was “Lippie.” 54 This quotation from Hamlet was drilled into us as children. I can’t say that I have followed it to the letter: I do borrow books from friends and money from banks, but always with caution.

21 Penbol and was ordered off. His second effort here is enclosed for your perusal. He still has the excellent wall clock..”

It Is Getting Serious “How it is raining. Lippie, with his face screwed up like a handful of corkscrews and gimlets, and the bald patch on the back of his head shining in the parlour mirror, has just remarked ‘it is getting serious,’ and, so it is.

“We have had the back kitchen roof grouted because it refused to keep the incessant rain out and the chimney stack of the kitchen which had developed contortionist propensities has been pointed with cement.”

A Curly-Headed Boy “My eyes refuse to beckon me to bed still, I shall go to my lonely couch and entice the heavenly medicine of rest by throwing my thoughts over a great expanse of ocean into a sunny land where the sunniest object of all is the curly-headed boy who remains steadfast, filial and faithful and with a little prayer perhaps fall into a blessed sleep. Good night, dear boy and accept the love of Mamma, Bill, Lothian and Your Father.”

More Dancing “January 16, 1939 At 8 PM Lippie arrived and he and Lothian went to the Badminton Dance in the Bulkeley Arms Hotel, Beaumaris. They arrived back at 2:45 AM having quite enjoyed themselves.

Depression Is Widespread “January 29, 1939 You are well off to be far away from the European cauldron. Times are very troublous and one never knows what the next few hours may bring. Depression is widespread, you can feel it everywhere,

22 and no matter where you go or whoever you see or meet you are faced by the same anxiety. I am taking the view that it is no use to unnerve yourself with worry for no matter what the likes of me say, do, or think, events will shape their own course. We have just had Sir John Anderson’s55 booklet on National Service and the forms will have to be filled saying what we are prepared to do if it comes to the worst.

Un-spiced Pickles “Last week we had the official letter about the evacuation of children from more populous counties. There was a polite intimation that we are expected to do our share and that shortly someone will call to see how many we can accommodate. All very cheering I can assure you. It is said that life without adventure is like pickles without spice. Give me the un-spiced pickles, I say.”

Premonition “Lippie is out of bed but not going out. It is arranged for him to go to the Southern (Hospital in Liverpool) on Tuesday to be x- rayed so, most likely there will be an operation. Will he pull through? I somehow feel apprehensive. Mamma last night told me that she is afraid of his chances. Neither Mamma nor I can give any reason for our fear but there it is.”

Anniversary Reflections “This is the 26th anniversary of our wedding day. These thoughts were in my mind 15 minutes ago when I took a cup of tea up to Mamma. She looked at me and asked if I remembered 26 years ago today.

“These 26 years have been one long cheerful sacrifice on Mamma’s part, firstly for me and then for her three children. That is the label

55 The Right Honourable Sir John Anderson, Lord Privy Seal.

23 I have fixed to her life. When I took her, she was very young, beautiful and pure; today she remains beautiful and good and virtuous. Let us cherish her as long as we may.”

He says of himself. “Rather should I fade into oblivion save only that my children should remember me with filial love and respect as a loving father and my wife remem- Nain in 1938 ber me as an honourable husband.”

Doing the Honourable Thing “February 13, 1939 I had been expecting something of the sort, in fact, I privately held the belief that, owing to the agitated state at home and also in Ja- maica, you had been, for some time, attached to some sort of de- fensive force. I could not see how it could be avoided and I could not conceive of you really wishing to avoid it. Although you, as others, perhaps, do not really like it.

“Circumstances claim their victims in every sphere of life and it is better to be an honourable ‘victim’ than a dishonourable one and I commend you for taking the better course. We went to Amlwch the same day as your letter arrived, Monday sixth inst, and cabled you ‘we agree.’ I hope you received it, that you understood us, and that the message was such as you thought we would send.”

Preparing for War “Mamma and I have had to fill forms saying what we are prepared to do in the event of war and an official has been here as at other houses, seeing how many rooms we have and how many children we can take in and they have put us down for six. It is all in a lifetime and we here are bent on keeping up a smile.”

False Hope “Lately, these last few days, I am inclined to think that the atmosphere has cleared a lot and it looks as though British policy is going to bring us through it on top. Certainly there is a change in the tone of foreign newspaper comments. Chamberlain’s last pronounce- ment on the solidarity of the English – French understanding was admirably timed and has given the Roman-Berlin axis pause for thought.”

Lippie Has His Appendix Out “This Thursday evening we heard that Lippie had that day been operated on for Appendicitis and that he was progressing. Lothian, whom we gather is in daily communication, told us last night that he is getting along alright.”

On His Own “February 26, 1839 I sent Bill to pay the rents last Tuesday by himself, thinking it was better for his prestige. There is always a crowd of tenants there and I think it was better for him to be alone. We had a good talk before he went and I must say that he acquitted himself well. He is to get all he asked for and this includes the roofing of the building on the other side of the road from Scarff’s house.”

The Dart Board “February 13, 1939 Having told you that we have a dart board in the front room, I may tell you that it proves quite an attraction. Every evening there is someone playing and very often the room is full. It is better than having the room empty. They do spend a little. Mamma is the champion of them all and there is always a demand for her as a partner. The dart board has brought J. Williams in and he is quite

25 amazed because he cannot beat Mamma. I’m hopeless at the game though sometimes I have a run of luck and then there is ‘loud ap- plause and much laughter.’”

Noel McNeill Becomes a Doctor “The Gazelle56 ha d a bad attack a week ago and they thought his cheques were going in but he has pulled through again. Noel McNeill has got through his exams and he is now Dr. McNeill drinks to all and sundry at the Kings Head when the news came. Lothian is disgusted.”

NOTE: ON SEPTEMBER 3, 1939, BRITAIN DECLARED WAR ON GER- MANY.

Determined to Face Matters “October 2, 1939 The four of us are well and we are thankful that you are in good health. We, like you, have determined to face matters, do our best and be as happy as possible. We note how you are fixed. The only comment we shall make is that we are thankful that you find yourself situated as you are and where you are.”

Rationing Begins, Prices are Rising “Arthur Williams has just spent a little time with us in the kitchen over 2 1/2 pints of beer. He wishes to be kindly remembered to you. So far the only rationing in force applies to petrol but, several other commodities are hard to get, such as sugar, candles, matches, batteries and some other things. Prices generally are going up and no doubt they will soon in spite of all that the government can do.”

56 The Gazelle was and is a very popular pub on the Anglesey shore of the Menai Straits between Menai Bridge and Beaumaris.

26 Harlof the Dane “This morning’s paper calls up all men up to 22 years of age. Of course there is a schedule of reservations. Bill is carrying on. The corn is all in and he is waiting for the thresher. Harlof the Dane is still with him. How long Harlof will be allowed to remain we cannot say but with the sinking of neutral ships I should think he is not very anxious to embark. The day after Peter landed in Den- mark he was rushed into the army.”

No Evacuees Yet “No evacuees have been imposed either on us or Plas Uchaf so far. Only children and a few women have been sent this way so the problem of employment does not arise. Bill’s housekeeper is quite a success so far. We do trust she will settle and stay the winter.”

Keeping a Low Profile “I do not go to Plas Uchaf very often now for fear that “they” may say that I am the farmer and rush Bill off. However Bill insisted on taking me there last Sunday to have a look at the stock and see the “cob” before it went to the Menai bridge sale.”

Changes at Plas Dulas “Sir Thomas is very unwell and does not seem to make any pro- gress towards recovery. They have reduced the estate staff and Owen the gardener is on notice along with others. He is leaving Cae Mawr and Bill has bought his livestock. The home farm sale is on Friday and Bill is looking forward to securing the manure drill and the best cart.”

The Fever of Dealing “October 12, 1939 Bill is very busy. He was out yesterday and bought a few cattle, 8 or 10, 2 sheep, a calf and a turkey. He sold 14 pigs yesterday, seven of which he had only overnight. The fever of dealing I am pleased

27 to say has at last got hold of him and so far he has not made any mistakes, the profit has been small in some cases but so it must be with all who deal.”

Lippie Wants to Know Who Lippie Is “You’ll be interested and amused to learn that Lothian was reading chosen excerpts from one of your letters to Penbol (Lippie a.k.a. Tom Edwards) and he ever looking saw something and asked her who Lippie was. Lothian replied ‘Ci Plas Uchaf.’ Penbol replied “Ty bed.” He is always anxious to know if you ask after him.”

Rationing Extended “We are now on rations, butter, bacon and sugar. It is not bad and we are comforted to know that we have a government which is taking things in hand before it gets late. I think Chamberlain has the confidence of the country.”

Growsers There Are “October 25, 1939 So far we have felt no hardships and the outlook is that, unless there is some sudden and great change, there is no immediate dan- ger of privations. The government is making great efforts to make the burden equitable and as easy as possible. Growsers there are of course but, I suppose we should have them if heaven came to earth.”

Stay Where You Are “We wish you a happy 1940 though it seems a futile hope. Still, hope springs eternal in the human breast and we shall continue to hope that peace may soon be restored. It will be a great disappoint- ment to us all if we do not see you this year but if the present con- ditions continue, we shall be glad to steel our hearts to the hardship for we should much prefer you to remain where you are until all

28 the trouble is over. Do not forget that this is our wish and pray that you should remain in Jamaica until peace comes again.”

Working With Bill Bill works very amicably with me and we chat things over in the friendliest way. I am sometimes able to give him a little advice and information for I meet more people and perhaps read more. He takes it all in the right spirit. I tell you this for your comfort and because I think you think it otherwise.

Supplementary Edibles “We have been helping Lothian57 out with nourishing food by sending her butter, eggs, meat sandwiches and many other edibles. The dear child is most grateful and appreciative and she has told us how she has relished all we sent. Mamma goes to see her and she always takes a small case full of edibles. She tells us that you had sent her a nice present and then she said, ‘Poor Bobbie. Oh how I should like to see him.’ And so should we all!”

A Child’s Concern “Little John Peters, Dafarn Hwyind, takes a great interest in you and he constantly talks about you and knows your history. You would be surprised if you heard. Mamma loves to hear him at it and asks you to send him a picture postcard. Don’t forget.”

A New Person “November 16, 1939 We were very pleased to have Lothian here. She is very lively and joyful and her presence and company did Mamma and me a deal of good. Since she had the operation she has changed completely.

57 Lothian was away at college in Bangor.

29 Her outlook on life has become most cheerful and those melan- choly ruminations which used to be her characteristic have quite disappeared.

“There is an automatic telephone box outside the Post Office, Rhosgoch, now.”

A Reprimand “November 26, 1939 This reminds me that I have been reprimanded by Miss (Lothian) for referring to him as Lippie and I have been told that when I write to you in future I must not call him Lippie. She says she does not wish me to give him a ffyg enw – a nickname. So in future you and I had better refer to him as Tom Edwards.”

The War Makes Itself Felt “December 7, 1939 Capt. Fairchild was here last week. A few days leave. He is sta- tioned at Devizes with a crowd of South Wales Borderers. He ex- pects a promotion in a week or so. He says he and his crowd will be off to some front in the spring.

“Not many from this immediate neighbourhood have been ‘called up’ but a great many have gone from Amlwch to join different branches of the sea service and quite a few to the army.”

Feeling Sorry for Bill “December 17, 1939 Bill was here at 10 AM today on the back of Gypsy, with two dogs and took nine cattle to Plas Uchaf from the back fields. Poor little chap has a hard life for he works strenuously and enjoys but few home comforts. Still he delights in his work but his hankering for me and Mamma to go there and make a home of it is irrepressible. Someday I trust we shall be able to go and make him more com- fortable.”

Year End Thoughts “December 31, 1939 It is 5:40 PM Sunday, the last day of 1939, a year which will be spoken of while civilization lasts, a year eventful and portentous, a year whose ‘courses have gone awry’ … Many shall live when the carnage is over, many shall live to suffer in an impoverished world but how many of us may dare to hope to see again a smiling land and enjoy the blessings of sane councils in the Chancelleries? ‘God moves in a mysterious Way’ but our faith is sorely tried, and our finite petty intellects are exasperatingly challenged when we see millions of men arrayed to slaughter one another.”

A Note of Resolve “Anyhow, whatever happens, today is Monday, 1 January 1940, the sun is shining brilliantly and the world, though in its winter drab- ness looks very nice. We here as a little family are resolved to carry on and do our best for each other and we trust that by doing so we may help to swell the general fund of resolution and courage to see this great crisis through in the fervent hope that somehow good will ensue.”

More Controls and Rationing “Control comes in for cattle a fortnight today and we're wondering how it will be. Butter, bacon and meat are coming under rationing on the eighth of this month. Coal has been released but petrol is still rationed. Oats came under Control today. And so we go on. We really have not much to complain of. The greatest trouble is the uncertainty of the future both immediate and distant.”

31 The Blizzard “January 19, 1940 Came down this morning to find the country white with heavy snow. There was a lull to about 11 AM when the wind commenced to rise and the snow started again and down it came and the wind howled and everything froze up. It was a real blizzard here. All road traffic stopped and the train got no further than hereabouts on its way to Amlwch. Cars in scores are stranded in the roads and many have burst cylinders. Our house became a hospice. We left the front door open all night with a crowd around a big fire in the front room and they were there in the morning waiting for breakfast. We had supplied quite a few with supper. Well about 10 AM on Satur- day morning the fun really commenced. The fly gang was down on the line and they started pouring in for all manner of drink. Railway officials and Post Office officials came in for food as did also the whole gang of platelayers and Post Office linesman. Mamma and I had a time and we kept at it while the bread lasted and then turned to potatoes. There was not a clean dish of any sort, or clean glass in the house. The evening Saturday was rather quiet and we did not complain because we were really tired.”

A Madman on Skis “Saturday Bowen Roberts was flying about like a madman on skis. He was flashing down the field when something happened and the two skis were seen in the air. After a time he got up, shook himself, picked up the skis and took them home under his arm.”

Government Control “February 15, 1940 Control came last Monday week and took three or four bullocks. Next Monday he takes the bull and 15 pigs. We have had no money yet for any. The government pays for all stock for slaughter and allocates the meat.”

32 At Sea “March 10, 1940 Mamma went to see Lothian on Thursday and found her very well and happy. The change did her good. The two went to Roberts’ Cafe for tea and found Auntie Nellie sitting there very disconsolate and in tears. She was making her way home from Conway, where she had been in bed for a week with flu. Bobbie and Jack58 had both gone. Bobbie to the Navy where he is serving somewhere on the West Coast in a converted yacht, Jack to join the Navy. Auntie Nellie Auntie Nellie with her brother, Jack has not heard if or how he has been fixed up. Your Uncle Harry is somewhere in the North Sea on a tugboat.”

The Last Shilling “Vivian Hughes-Jones, Llangefni, has sold his milk business and joined the Cavalry. It is said that they are somewhere about the last shilling.”

Everything Here Is Very Quiet “March 25, 1940 There is nothing of interest to relate. Everything here is very quiet, business is practically at a standstill. There is very little traffic on the roads. Only one man in soldier's uniform has been in this house since the war started and that was last night. He was the son-in-law

58 These are Bobbie’s first cousins. His namesake, Bobbie, emigrated to the U.S. and lived in California with his civil partner. Jack Williams MBE, who in- herited his father’s small fishing fleet in Conway, became mayor of the town, as did his wife “Topsy,” who thereby had the distinction of being both mayor and mayoress of Conway.

33 of Mrs Parry late Dafarn Dwyrch. Not many uniforms are to be seen in Amlwch either. I do not think I have seen more than five.”

Hard to Believe There Is a War On “April 7, 1940 It is 11 PM Sunday and Mamma, Lothian and Penbol are sitting by the fire talking and having a most exciting game of dominoes. We have all had a happy peaceful day, plenty to eat and a good fire. It is hard to believe there is a war on and that perhaps the destiny of the country is in the balance. It rained heavily this morning so none of us went to church. By afternoon it had cleared up and Mamma and Lothian went to church. Vicar was preaching. The little church was full. Bill did not turn up this evening. He had said last night that he might not venture. Petrol being 1/10 per gallon one does not feel justified in making unnecessary journeys.”

Conscientious Objectors “Glyn the son of Lofs Rallt is a conscientious objector and is the object of much derision but his father does not mind and says he would prefer to shoot him himself rather than he should go. I have not heard anything about Stewart or Jack.59 No doubt Stew- art60 is a Conchie.”

Intentions Concealed “Whatever understanding there may be between Penbol and Lo- thian she very successfully conceals it from us. Perhaps there is none. Lothian was at Penbol for supper last evening. Whenever she goes there Mrs. Pritchard is always there and from what we gather great care is taken that situations, circumstances and general behaviour are such that there can be no room for talk.”

59 Jack and Stewart Elliott, his nephews, sons of his sister Jeanie.

34 As it turned out, Lippie’s intentions were honourable, and on Jan- uary 14, 1941, he married Lothian at Llanwenllyfo Church, near Plas Uchaf.

Grandson Bill’s Assessment

Taid thought that Lothian had married well. At the same time, he did not get along particularly well with Tom Edwards as the nickname, Lippie, might imply. Why? Because, according to Bill, he never felt that he was given the respect due to him (whether as his father-in-law or for his part in securing Penbol for Tom’s father, or both).

She was given away by her father at a small wedding. For reasons lost to history, her mother was not at the church; nor was she at the lunch in Bangor which followed; in fact, there were only three people there: William and the newlyweds. After lunch, Tom and Lothian motored to Betwys-y- Coed, where they spent their honeymoon at the Royal Oak Hotel. It was, after all, wartime.

Lothian was a member of the Magistrates’ bench for many years. Intense and intuitive, meeting me again after an absence of many years, she looked up into my face with deep, Lothian dark eyes, and, with her head cocked to one side, said, “You’re a kind-hearted man aren’t you.” It was an odd thing to say but also oddly affirming and also a charge that I have tried to live up to.

35 Uncle Tom was a fastidious man who, as he went about his farming business, to avoid soiling his clothes, wore a coat, like a lab coat, over his tweeds.

As is evident from the letters, Bill, known as Willie Stow, the middle boy, whose interest in animals far exceeded his interest in anything books might have to offer, was intent on becoming a farmer. How was he to acquire the requisite knowledge and skills? After all his father, while he owned two farms, was not a Willie Stow as a boy farmer and relied on others to do the farming. The answer was to send him to a ‘farming’ school and so he was bundled off to Avoncroft College, Offenham, near Evesham, a residential college for rural workers. While at the college, which was associated with the Cadbury family, he was “offered a job as under manager on George Cadbury’s nephew’s farm at Llanbryn Mair, Montgomeryshire.”

The job on offer started off with pocket money and developed into a wage. He turned them down and went instead to Denmark to round out his farming education by spending six months on a large farm there.

Back in Anglesey, Bill was anxious to put his newly ac- Willie Stow as a young man quired skills to work. Unfortunately he was too young to assume a tenancy so his father assumed one on his behalf: the tenancy of Plas Uchaf, ( in

36 English “Upper Hall”), a farm on the Llys Dulas estate. One as- sumes that his father also provided the working capital, although there is some suggestion that his brother, my father, may have provided some.

In exchange for his father’s support, Bill made certain undertakings to him, presumably because the family finances couldn’t support a wife and family until the farming business got off the ground. These he describes in a heart-rending, if slightly self-pitying, letter to his brother Bobbie: “You, I suppose, know that I have made many pledges to Daddy which I intend keeping, such as not mar- rying until I am thirty, etc. Well I am still a T.T. and a non-smoker and have not taken a single girl out for over 2 years, so you see I am playing my part. Daddy never informed me that you were helping them and I never asked, but you told me. You know it is not a small matter for a chap like me to go home and to be talked to in such a cruel way that I have cried and cried, but for all that I have stuck to it” – his end of the bargain. He was twenty-four at the time of writing.

While one can understand the financial constraints under which father and son laboured in the initial stages, even so one doesn’t quite know what to make of the tone and substance of this letter. There is no evidence of a cutting or cruel tongue in my grandfather’s letters to my father; rather, on several occasions he acknowl- edges (and regrets) the hard circumstances under which his son Bill must labour. The most one sees is an occasional, momentary curt- ness, which, one supposes, might to a sensitive soul be received as a put down.

If there was friction between father and son, as undoubtedly there was, the explanation probably lies in the very real differences between the two men, physically, and in their personalities. The father was tall and erect, principled and disciplined, every inch a Scot; the son, taking after his mother was all Welsh: short and dark, with

37 blue eyes, a warm heart and full of restless energy – and a prankster to boot. Is it any wonder that they exasperated one another? How could it be otherwise?

My father went off to university in the thirties, first to the Univer- sity College of North Wales at Bangor, where he read Chemistry; and then to Cambridge where he took a further degree in Agricul- ture. Of my father and his life, I say more in the next chapter.

All the children were very successful in their lives and marriages, and all, to one degree or another, attributed this success to their father, of whom they spoke not so much with fondness as with respect and a certain amount of awe. He was strict, as many Victo- rian fathers were, but he was not without kindness or humour to which the extracts from his letters attest. My Aunt Gwyneth tells of the time he accompanied her on a walk while she was pushing a pram and said to her, pointing to my cousin in the pram, “You know what they’re saying don’t you,” referring to the bystanders. “They’re saying, ‘there goes an old man paying for his sins.’” Nor did he lose his sense of humour with advancing age. In the last months of his life, suffering from bowel cancer and all the associated indignities, he would refer to the modesty shield erected by the nurse as the Iron Curtain and ask, “How is everything behind the Iron Curtain today?”

If he drove his children hard to succeed, he also prepared them in other ways for a better life. For example, he would order hampers from Fortnum and Mason’s in London, so that they could taste, and learn to eat, the delicacies of a more sophisticated world, the

38 world of the ships he had provisioned in his youth – a world far removed from rural An- glesey.

At some point in the late 1940s or early ’50s, Bill assumed the tenancy of Ty Fry, a large farm near Pentraeth and took up residence there. As a re- Ty Fry, seen here in the fifties, was built in 1679 by sult, Plas Uchaf became Owen Williams vacant, and William and Ella moved there from the hotel upon William’s retirement.

Plas Uchaf stood on a rise at right angles to the road from Nebo to Llys Dulas. It was a curious house with two front doors and two staircases, suggesting Cousins Mary and Malcolm playing at the rear of that at some time in the Ty Fry, August 1958 past it had been home to two families.

At the front, there was a smallish flower garden in which there were lantern-like fuchsias, whose unopened buds were there for the popping; and in front of the garden a large orchard of apple trees, Cox’s Orange Pippins. Behind the house, neatly laid out in rows, was a large vegetable garden, the beds bordered by low box hedges; and at the very bottom of the garden, a privy for daytime use. At night and for emergency situations, there was an upstairs WC;

39 however, its use was restricted, perhaps because there was no electricity and water had to be pumped by hand. (Electricity didn’t come to Plas Uchaf until the late fifties.)

Life at Plas Uchaf, as my brother recalls it, was very structured. There was a time and place for everything: a time to collect and deliver the mail and a time to write up the diary, which oc- curred after dinner; in our terms, much closer to teatime than dinner time to take advantage of the Plas Uchaf in the forties daylight.

After dinner, Taid would order Ella to get “the book,” as he called his diary, and sitting at the dining room table, would spend about an hour writing up the events of his day by lamplight.

The lamp by which wrote had a mantle that gave off good light, whereas most of the lamps in the house had wicks and contrib- Bill as a small boy at Plas Uchaf, house top right uted to the rather gloomy atmosphere that pervaded the house after dark. As Bill recalls it, his approach to diary writing, like his life, was very

40 structured. There was an entry for each day, beginning with an account of the weather. In addition, at the back of his diary, in a sec- tion reserved for Memoranda, he recorded important events with dates.

My brother’s recollections as a fourteen-year-old boy of life at Plas Uchaf are worth recording to fill out the picture of our grandfather.

“My grandfather was a tall, imposing man who held himself very erect. Pe- riodically, he would put a broom han- dle behind his back between the crooks of his arms to straighten himself up. He never raised his voice.”

In fact, as children, we were taught that raised voices had no part in civi- lized discourse and swearing was a sign of someone with an ‘insufficient

The author with Taid, 1949 grasp of the English language’ (his words).

“My grandparents didn’t drink except the occasional glass of sherry,” which seems odd for an innkeeper and his wife. However, perhaps, they had seen once too often the unattractive effects of “double gins and sherries all round.”

Bill doesn’t remember Taid as being particularly religious, although his letters and diary would suggest otherwise. He didn’t attend church during the time that he stayed at Plas Uchaf, having fallen

41 out with the vicar at some point, so Bill went to church with his grandmother, Nain, who played the organ.

Bill remembers the farmhands on the farm, particularly Owen Owen, who had a kind and rather saintly face and spoke English with a lovely lilt. “The men wore clogs, like Dutch clogs except that they laced up and had metal to protect the toes; and shoes, like horseshoes, nailed to the soles. The noise of the clogs on the flag- stones was unforgettable.” Owen Owen On the kitchen mantelpiece at Plas Uchaf was a large jar of sherry in which was preserved a coiled Viper. To a child’s eyes, of course, the snake looked enormous and had the salutary effect of instilling caution in a child’s mind, especially when playing on the gorse-covered rock faces so common in

Thrashing at Plas Uchaf in the fifties the fields around Anglesey and on which vipers were said to sun themselves. The story goes that Taid, returning home in a pony and trap, encountered the snake crossing the road. When the pony saw the snake it reared up in terror. Somehow, Taid was able to

42 capture the snake, we don’t know how, and taking it home, preserved it in sherry for all to see.

The only friend that Bill recalls my grandfather having was a man who lived in a cottage on the Llys Dulas estate near the very large vegetable garden. Bill wasn’t clear whether the man was a retired head gardener or retired estate manager.

“The telephone was only used for important communication so when it rang, it signalled some sort of problem. The exception to this was that Nain talked to Lothian almost every day.”

Happily, for the years 1952 to 1957, the last few pages of the diaries were preserved, so we have Taid’s record of important events and dates for those years. To give you a sense of his record-keeping, here are some entries from 1952, six years before died:

• Bill operated on for Hernia, Southern Hos- pital Liverpool, 6 Janu- ary, returned home Taid in his eighties, reading his diary, which he called January 23, 1950. (In- "The Book." teresting to note that what might be considered day surgery today required a post-operative hospital stay of seventeen days in 1950!) • John Edwards, Penbol, died 17th January 1936. His widow died at Gwynant 18th June 1950 (age 80). • Joe Bradley killed at Bodafon 9 September 1950. Thrown from horse. • Margaret Jane Jerman, wife of the Rev. W.O. Jerman, Rector of Llanfaethlu and Llanfevrwy and mother of O. Tudor Thomas, of Pen- rorseydd, Cemlyn and present High Sheriff of Anglesey, died 27 April

43 and is to be buried at Llanrhwydry Church on Tuesday next. Said to be in her 79th year. • Emeritus Professor T.W. Fagan, brother of Mr. Hughes late of the Hal- lows, Amlwch, and one time Vicar of Bodewryd and then of Rhosybol died 1:30 pm Sunday Jan 28th 1951 in Aberystwth General Hospital. Age 77. [Professor Fagan was helpful to my father in the early part of his career.]

Occasionally, Taid inserts something of note that he has read or thought about.

“Blocking the road to reconstruc- tion are five giants: Want, Disease, Ignorance, Squalor and Idleness; or would like to remember: Sec- ond World War. Britain at war with Germany 3rd September 1939. Official end of the war 1 minute past midnight Tuesday, 8 May 1945 (5 years 8 months).”

While we have several pages of events and dates, there are only a handful of actual diary entries that Ella in later life. She had Celtic features. escaped the flames. The most Her beautiful eyes were cornflower blue. touching is the final entry for December 31, 1953, which provides a fitting note on which to end this chapter. “And so ends 1953. It has been a year of international tensions. The War in Korea has ended but the French are still at war with the Vietnamese. There has been much to be thankful for and we trust that the coming year will see World Peace more firmly established. As to my own family they are all well, Jamaica, Ty Fry and Penbol. There have been mi- nor ailments and Mother of course is still in a state of convales- cence. She however is getting better and stronger. That she is still with me, I am deeply and truly thankful. She has been through

44 much suffering but she has never lost heart. I am sure that we all, the children, grandchildren and myself often raise our hearts in prayers of thankfulness to the Great White Throne, 61 whence cometh all our strength and lavish blessings. ‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow.’

“And now as the year has passed and the pages are full, I place this book along with others and remember that I am now in my 81st year.

“So let it be.”

William Innes died on November 19, 1958, and is buried in the churchyard of the Church of Saint Gallgo, Llangallo, Anglesey. Ella lived on for another twenty-six years before joining him in the little churchyard.

Plas Uchaf, derelict in the sixties, has been completely renovated as a “holiday let” and is today virtually unrecognizable.

61 Revelation 20:11–15: “And I saw a great white throne and Him who was seated upon it.”

The front of the Rhosgoch Hotel in the 1940s

The station road in front of the Rhosgoch Hotel in the 1940s

Uncle Tom with his herd of Welsh Blacks in front of Penbol in the 1940s

William Innes walking to Penbol from the hotel, coming for the evening and being met at the Lon Pant gate by Tom Edwards in 1941

47 Willie Stow with his champion mare Edingale Gwendoline

Ploughing Match at Plas Uchaf in the 1940s