self centred softy

Cefnmeurig in 1800

I received in the post today, from Dominic Conway, the reconstruction drawing of Cefnmeurig farmhouse as it might have looked around 1800. I'm really pleased with the finished drawing.

We have assumed that it would have had the appearance of a long house with the animals housed where the c1890 kitchen extension is now. The roof would have been lower than it is at present and we have assumed that the roof was thatched although there is strong evidence of a slate roof being in place before the "new" 1890 roof was raised. The yellow limewash matches the wash found in the hallway. The garden walls are drawn as stone although I suspect that they might have been wooden or mixed hedges as stone was quite scarce.

My 4 times great grand parents, David and Jane John, were living in Cefnmeurig in 1800 with their five children. David John (1751-1821) was born on the farm and in 1779 he married Jane Griffith (1759-1840) from the neighbouring farm of Aber. Their daughter (my 3 times great grandmother), Esther (1784-1862) married the boy next door in 1804, Benjamin Morris (1763-1823) of Llwyntreharne.  Their son, my great great grandfather Thomas Morris (1811 - ?) married widow Mary Richards in 1866, six years after the birth of their son Caleb Morris, my great grandfather. In fact they had three children before they were married.

I was really shocked when I discovered this, all the relatives I have known have been very strict non-conformists who took a very dim view indeed of "relations" outside marriage. I was a little bit concerned that my mother would be rather upset to learn that her grandfather was born outside marriage. She said she wasn't bothered as she did not have a very high opinion of her grandfather. He was a very hard man who was very tough on his children. However he did give each of his 10 children a dowry or house or farm when they were adults. He gave my grandmother, Mary Morris,  £500 on the occasion of her marriage in 1914 to William Phillips of Cefnmeurig but after she was killed in 1932 he asked my grandfather William, for the money back. My grandfather gave him the money straight away but did not have any further contact with his father in law. He did not stop his children seeing their grandfather Caleb though.

I suspect that Caleb behaved the way he did because he had a very hard upbringing. Before his parents married he lived in a hovel on Llwyntreharne land and his mother was officially described as a pauper. All his step brothers (from his father's first marriage) died young and Caleb had to take on the responsibility of running the farm of Llwyntreharne before he was 18. He probably knew what it was like not to have enough food, clothes and heating and had to grow up very quickly.

Cefnmeurig is a draw for Conway

Dominic Conway contacted me today to ask whether I was going to the Carmarthenshire Antiquarian Society's study day at Ferryside tomorrow. Dominic has drawn a reconstruction picture of how Cefnmeurig might have looked in the 18th century, as a one storey cottage with a thatched roof.

2005 is the centenary of the Society's formation. Amazingly, Dominic and I are probably about the youngest members of the Society which is a shame as there is a lot going on that would be of interest to most age groups.

At the last study day the "youngsters" gravitated to the same lunch table. After we had got bored with throwing the bread rolls at one another, Dominic suggested setting up a Junior Section of the Society for the under 60s.(the Antiquarians' Apprentices perhaps) The trouble is, there would only be a handful of members, which would not make for a very lively Christmas Junior Disco. Behaving badly at the grown ups' Tea Dance would probably be a lot more fun.

Keith's Half Century

Keith is 50 today. Happy Birthday from the Self-Centred Softy.

A short birthday interview with Keith:

SCS :What has been the highlight of the last 50 years?

K: Being voted the best looking boy in Maesteg Comp. in 1973.

SCS: What has been the worst moment for you in the last 50 years?

K: Sorry, I don't understand the question.

SCS: Please can you explain why someone so talented ( razor sharp intellect, quick wit, international sportsman, Eisteddfod winner and thoroughly decent chap) is pants when it comes to DIY?

K: I have been secretly hoping that you would nominate me to appear in my favourite programme of all time DIY SOS, so that I could meet the girl of my dreams Lowri Turner.

Do you recognise these women?

I have recently discovered a family photo album with about 50 photos most dating from the 19th century. This is quite a find but unfortunately, none of the photos are identified. One or two are definitely not family... I don't think I can claim Lord Randolph Churchill as an ancestor and another is of Daniel Gwenffrwd Evans, the first minister of Trinity Chapel, Llanboidy.

However, I believe I may have identified three or four people in the album.

This photo could be my great great grandmother Anne Phillips (1812-1899) nee Lewis (born Ffosdufach Farm, Llanboidy). I think that the photo was taken outside Pencnwc Farm, Llanboidy. The poor woman looks terrified and appears to have lost her teeth. Two of her brothers became very wealthy as the result of a legacy from a cousin, William Philipps. Alas, Anne, being a mere woman, was only bequeathed a small annuity - enough to keep her in bonnets and shawls but not much else.

The photograph was taken by a Liverpool photographer, John Thomas who was originally from Cellan, Cardiganshire and is one of the best known Welsh Victorian photographers. He travelled all around Wales from the 1860s to 1890s taking photographs.

This photo could be of my great grandmother Amy Phillips nee Williams (born Lan Farm, Llangan, Llanboidy) (1832-1899). She married my great grandfather James Phillips of Pencnwc, Llanboidy and the family moved to Cefnmeurig in 1882. My mother looks very much like the lady in the photo.

A bit of how's your father

John and Owenna Owen celebrated their Golden Wedding anniversary today, at their daughter Gwawr's house. My Dad is John's first cousin and was best man at their wedding. Unfortunately, Mum was ill so they couldn't make the party. Keith and I went instead.

We knew very few people there but three or four of the guests said to me, " We know who you are, you look just like your father."

When my father was younger it was said that he looked very much like Gregory Peck. Therefore, logically, I must look just like Gregory Peck. What do you think?

My brother doesn't look anything like my Dad or Gregory Peck or me, but when he was working in China, his students used to tell him he looked like Tom Hanks. What do you think?

D-Day plus 8

60 years ago today, my Dad was on board ship, with a party of RAF Engineers, heading for Omaha beach, Normandy. He was nearly shot before he put a foot on French soil... by an officer on his own side.

He was 18 years of age and had been appointed co-driver of a 3-ton lorry. He was in a convoy heading from Eastbourne to Gosport. The driver was a local lad and he was desperate to see his heavily pregnant wife before he left for France. He pretended that the lorry had broken down in the middle of the convoy and when all the other vehicles had passed by, he diverted straight for home, taking my Dad with him. Dad was treated to tea and cakes before the lorry joined the ship at Gosport.

They were the last vehicle to board ship, so they would be the first to be off the other end. They sailed overnight and got to somewhere north of Omaha beach early next morning. When the time came to disembark, the officer in charge called for the driver but he was nowhere to be found - Dad never saw him again - he had either jumped ship or fallen overboard. The Officer, who was understandably jumpy, called for the co-driver to remove the vehicle. No one had ever asked Dad whether he could drive a lorry. In fact, Dad had never driven any type of vehicle in his life, not even a tractor. The officer was furious and drew his pistol and for a few moments, Dad thought he was going to be shot. The officer came to his senses and drove the lorry off himself, with Dad sitting in silence by his side.

The first party of RAF Engineers had landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day. At the end of the day 8 men had been killed and 38 wounded. 28 out of the 35 vehicles on the first ship were sunk before they reached the beach.

Dad's words,
"When we landed, several days later, somewhere to the north of Omaha beach, most of the debris had been cleared. What first struck me was the colour of the soldiers around and heading back to the ship for home. They looked a ghostly grey colour, probably through shell-shock. They took no interest whatever in us. I could see the Beachmaster talking, I presumed, to some local farmer, enquiring where the shots were coming from. I decided to join them (I had some knowledge of basic French. After all, I hadn't long left school). My pals kept shouting, "take cover Taff" but I was too interested in finding out what went on.

Before nightfall we moved away from the beach-head, along some narrow country roads and pitched tents next to some Canadian Engineers. I soon got used to the terrific noise, the low flying aircraft overhead, the tanks and some shelling. At dusk all would become quiet and found this more unnerving than the noise. Around midnight, the German aircraft would come over.

Our work supposedly was to build landing strips for our fighter aircraft to land and re-fuel. However, the battle seemed to me to be very one-sided, during the day it was always our aircraft in the skies overhead, no Germans. We were thus clearing roads, through Caen (which was completely flat) for tanks and vehicles to pass through. I remember being completely dumbstruck at the extent of the damage everywhere.

The weather seemed pretty foul; it seemed to be raining all the time. Every morning I woke up in a pool of water, in a hole, which I had dug for my hips for a better night, sleep. Then, around August I think, the Germans suddenly pulled back to set up defensive positions on the Rhine.

Everything and everyone thus tore up through France and into Belgium. The winter of 1944 seemed very quiet, with no movement by either side. The winter was cold, with some snow on the ground. Then at the end of December I woke up one morning and couldn’t bear to put my boots on. The Sergeant was yelling so I decided to report sick. I seemed to deteriorate very quickly and was sent, by ambulance, to a hospital in Brussels. I was now unable to move at all, I couldn’t even open my mouth. The journey in the Ambulance was agony, the roads seemed so rough, and I wanted to shout and scream but decided that there was no point. Spent a month or so in the Brussels hospital and could see others being brought in, unconscious, with similar problems. In the end, the Doctor, a Group Captain and former Harley Street Specialist, decided to send me back to the UK.

The ward I was in had about 40 beds, the sick and wounded were coming in and after about five months I was the longest "serving " patient on the ward I remember one chap asking the Doctor when could he get up. The Doctor replied, pointing to me "see that fellow in that bed over there, when you see him getting up, you'll have a chance".

I was eventually discharged in May 1945, on VE day in Europe. The last words of the Specialist were "if you lead a quiet life, you could live for several years." His diagnosis was bang on!! . "

Dad will be 79 next November.

Verch v Ferch

Richard asked:

I didn't realise that 'vch', means 'daughter of' and am a little puzzled as I thought that there was no letter v in the Welsh language. Can anyone explain this to me?

You are right, there is no "v" in the modern Welsh language but you will see it used in old manuscripts. (modern Welsh uses the letter "f" for the "v" sound and "ff" for the "f" sound) There appears to have been a move to reintroduce "v" in the early 19th century. In the first ever Transactions of the Cymmrodorion in 1822 there was a "Notice to Readers" which recorded the resolution:

"That the Society will henceforth, by all means in its power, recommend and promote the substitution of the letter V for F and the letter F for FF... as by the ancient mode of writing the Welsh language itself..."

It didn't take of/off. ( a short example of/ov the inconsistencies of/ov the English language)

"Vch" is shorthand for "ferch". Ferch being the mutuated form of "merch" (girl or daughter).. In the old manuscripts you will also come across "vz" , "ach" and "ych" for "daughter of".

Under the photo in the "Children of Cefnmeurig" post I named Catrin as "Catrin vch Liz" and me as "Anne vch Nest". This naming form would have been rare; more likely we would have been known as "Catrin vch Richard" and "Anne vch Griffith" . I was making a feminist point here; it was nothing to do with being unable to fit in the longer caption.

Where there's a will

A lady from Llangynin has just rung me. She saw my article in the Western Mail and wanted to know a bit more about the history of Cefnmeurig as she is trying to generate interest in starting a history group in the village.

Her initial aim is get householders to research and write the history of their homes.

She asked if I wanted to get involved, and would I call by next time I was down, with any relevant documents in my possession. I've accumulated dozens of papers over the last few years, mostly wills from Llangynin and neighbouring parishes. These are fascinating documents as they give us a glimpse into rural life in the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. Two things have struck me:

1) Bad handwriting and bad spelling are not modern phenomena;
2) How few possessions our ancestors had.

For example, according to her will, Catherine Morris of the parish of Llangynin had the following possessions in 1687:
Two cows
Two heifers
15 sheep
8 lambs
One pig
One boar
Three old blankets and some old bedding
One little brass pot
One baking stone
One stand, one old chest

There are a few other bits and pieces I can't decipher but there does not appear to be a bed listed. Catherine probably piled her old bedding on top of a wooden pallet type structure every night. She would have spent virtually every daylight hour out of doors, which was just as well as the house would have been horrendously smoky from the fire. There may not even have been a chimney, the smoke given the freedom to find its own way out, via Catherine's lungs, no doubt.

I wouldn't have lasted five minutes.

Tunnel Trouble

There is definitely a perverse streak in my nature. This seems to come to the fore particularly at Bank Holiday time. I have the strongest urge to head in the opposite direction to everyone else. So on this fine Whit-Saturday afternoon, when most other day-trippers were making for the beach we (I) decide to head inland. A piece in the Western Mail about the sale of Golden Grove in the Towy Valley reminded me that a visit to Aberglasney, a garden "Lost in Time” was overdue.


Aberglasney: Anne's attempt at art.
Carmarthenshire is marketed as the "Garden of Wales" but before visiting Aberglasney I didn't know that the Towy Valley had been given the same title, as far back as the 18th century. Around that time, some observers claimed that the valley (which is about 30 minutes from Cefnmeurig) had a higher concentration of gentry residences than anywhere else in Britain.

Aberglasney was one of these former country residences and it was saved from a very slow death by the Aberglasney Trust, which was set up in the early 1990s, primarily to restore the gardens. It is now open to the public. I enjoyed my visit there but it would not appeal to anyone looking for a "quick fix". I think you need to have some knowledge and appreciation of the history of Aberglasney to get the most out the visit. There were some very bored looking children walking around the grounds. The staff there are superb, they really believe in the project.

The restoration of the gardens was the subject of a TV series and afterwards a big public row broke out about the Yew tree tunnel in front of the house. It was supposedly over 1000 years old but some garden commentators, including Sir Roy Strong disputed this. Dendroch dating of the wood has now revealed that the tunnel is only about 250 years old; a great age for any living thing but not nearly old enough to break any yew records.


Yew were wrong

The most historically important element of Aberglasney is the Cloister Garden. This structure is unique. The courtyard, dating from the 16th century, has on three sides vast arcaded stone structures, which support a broad parapet walkway. The house itself stands a little apart as the fourth side.

Aberglasney has been an important residence since the middle ages when Lewys Glyn Cothi in a praise poem to the owner Rhydderch ap Rhys wrote:

"He has a proud hall,
A fortress made bright with whitewash"

The house and associated families have had a chequered history. One of the lowest points must have been around 1600,when the owner, Bishop Rudd, lost all his maid servants when they were suffocated by lime plaster drying in their bedrooms.

A famous son of Aberglasney was the poet John Dyer (1699-1757) who is best known for Grongar Hill and the Ruins of Rome.

While in Rome, I doubt that John Dyer would have penned the couplet:
"I couldn't settle in Italy,
It was like being in a foreign country"

That quote by former world class Welsh footballer Ian Rush currently puts him in the top spot of a "footballers' silly sayings" site.

My favourite, at number six spot, is:
"I can see the carrot at the end of the tunnel"
by former England international Stuart Pearce. (nickname Pyscho)

Someone stick some light on that one for me, please.

Children of Cefnmeurig

The search for one's roots is not a fashionable new pastime in Wales; it has always been popular.

Writing in 1899, J Gwenogvryn Evans said:

"A considerable section of the community takes the most astonishing interest in the subject of pedigrees... The writer has found it difficult to swallow his soup with grace as he listens to "a descendant of Rhodri Mawr" wondering if there was no way of recovering some of the family estate, which was so extensive in the year 946."

Six centuries earlier, the half-Norman, half-Welsh Gerald Cambrensis (whose mother was Nest, "the Helen of Wales", incidentally) wrote:
" ...Even the common people retain their genealogy, and can, not only readily recount the names of grandfathers and great-grandfathers but can refer back to the sixth or seventh generation."

He could have been talking about me. I am a common person and I can recount the names of my grandfathers and great grandfathers. I also know the name of my sixth times great grandfather, living at Cefnmeurig. And my mother's name is Nest.

Luckily, the 1747 will of John Rees of Keven Meyrick survived and proved the link. This is an important document not only for the family but also for the parish as it gives an indication of when surnames were fixed in the area.

Up until the 19th century (in some rural areas) the Welsh used an ancient PATRONYMIC naming system whereby the children of a marriage took their Father's forename as their surname (or very occasionally mothers). As a result surnames were not fixed and changed from generation to generation.

For example: my John Rees had three sons, John, William and David.
The three sons went by the names of:
John John or John John Rees;
William John or William John Rees
David John or David John Rees

John John had a son, David, who was known as David John
William John also had a son, David, who was known as David William

Thereafter all David John's descendants had the surname JOHN and all David William's descendants had the surname WILLIAM OR WILLIAMS.

The abbreviations "ap" meaning "son of" (e.g. John ap John) or "vch" meaning "daughter of" (e.g. Margaret vch John) were used in older wills and documents but rarely with as much style as one 18th century Welsh bankrupt. He signed himself as:

“Siôn ap William ap Siôn ap William ap Siôn ap Dafydd ap Ithel Fychan ap Cynrig ap Robert ap Iorwerth ap Rhyrid ap Iorwerth ap Madoc ap Ednawain Bendow called after the English fashion... John Jones”

Catrin vch Liz; Rhodri ap Richard; Anne vch Nest.    Photo:Paul Avis