Tag: Merthyr Express

Memories of Old Merthyr

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

Here is fairly good evidence as to the time the Ivor Works were built. Why they were so may be difficult to determine, but the lease of the old works was drawing to an end, and the new, being on freehold land, was proof that the works might be carried on if terms for renewal could not be come to.

The Ivor Works from an 1875 map

There 14 blast furnaces at the old works with six blast engines for supplying them. The las of these, the No. 6, was on the yard at the top of the furnaces, as there was no room with the others on the lower yard. There was also the son, Ivor, to whom the translation of the Mabinogion had been dedicated, whose name could be used and possibly perpetuated thereby. Canford Manor was purchased about this time, but did anyone then think Ivor Bertie Guest would become Lord Wimborne?

The Ivor furnaces were amongst the first in South Wales that were erected so as to require the materials to be lifted to their top. This now used, but the recent ones are all built cupola fashion, that is (with the upper part at least) circular, but Ivor furnaces were truncated pyramid fashion.

Mr Thomas Wales, who afterwards became the Government Inspector of Mines, was the coal agent. He was succeeded by George Heppel, who afterwards went to Plymouth. Mr George Martin was also taken as the mine agent. His term of service was a long one. Some few years ago I was in Llangammarch Wells for a few hours, and having finished the purpose of my visit, turned into the churchyard, when to my surprise the resting-place of one who was known to me in 1838 was seen. Mr Samuel Truran was in charge of the blast engines and Mr Dan Williams the engineer of the forge etc.

 

An aerial view of Dowlais from 1929. Dowlais Works are bottom right and Ivor Works are top middle. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

There was an exodus of Dowlais men to Cwmavon. Frederick Evans; David Harris, forge carpenter; Lamphier, who has been mentioned, and others; but Dowlais has supplied other works also, Rhymney to wit, for Mr Josiah Richards was one, and by an accident, in fact a fall in the engine house, was killed. John P Roe went with him as draughtsman, and succeeded to his position after Mr Richards’ death.

It may not be generally known that William Thompson of Penydarren, was then a part proprietor of Rhymney Works, and being a Governor of the Blue Coat School in London, was the cause of Mr E Windsor Richards being educated there.

Maynard Colchester Harrison was the forge clerk, and Sydney Howard went first to Cardiff and then to London in the same service. Mr Lewis Lewis, who in later years retired to Treodyrhiw, was looking after the stables etc., and there was lodging with him John C Wolrige, who afterwards went to Plymouth, and Edward Jones (called Liverpool Jones), who became manager at Hemmetts at Bridgwater, and afterwards manager of the Patent Shaft and Axle Works, Wednesbury.

There were many others. One was Mr Wm. Jenkins, manager of Consett subsequently (his father was the storekeeper in the works and clerk in the church), and one Goodall, brother to the artist of that name. For a time after he came he used to dream so  much – cross-adding the colliers’ pay was no joke – that he was doing it in his sleep.

There had been one at Dowlais I never remember, It was he who put up what was then the foremost mill of the time. His name was William Gardner, and the big mill was put up by him, but from all I ever learnt, he it was who brought the false rider into good use. Simple as this is, it was exceedingly advantageous. To explain it, allow my saying it is placing of very cheap and simple casting to break and so save expensive damage to other parts.

To be continued at a later date…..

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 18

by Barrie Jones

Chapter XV (continued). Henry recounts being duped by a ‘friendly’ warder and how his stomach ailment led to his transfer to Parkhurst Prison, Isle of Wight.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 30th April 1910, page 11.

Chapter XV (continued)

Time went on, and I was doing a splendid trade with my toothpicks, when one day there came an individual to Portland as an assistant warder, and stuck on his breast were two medals which told that he had been engaged in the late row in South Africa. This man took me into his confidence, and one day asked me where I came from, and other questions which he knew, and I knew, was strictly against the rules. He told me that he hailed from Brecon, and our conversation drifted right into Merthyr Tydfil and from there right to Abercanaid over the mountain into Aberdare, until he mentioned all the villages and towns  he knew all through the Rhondda Valley. Our conversation was then cut off, for the chief warder happened to come in at the time, and He left with the remark, “All right, Williams, I will see you again,” but I wish I had never seen him at all. A few days after, just before Christmas, 1903, this man happened to be on duty in my ward, He came up to me, and, says he, “Williams, I have heard you are very clever in carving articles out of bone. Just make me one so I can send it as a memento to my parents in Brecon.” “Certainly,” says I. Well, I made a pretty little article, taking great pains over it, and I wrapped it up in a piece of paper, together with a note, asking him to oblige me in return with half an ounce of twist tobacco.

On the following Monday morning, I put my name down for the doctor, not for physic, but in order to see the officer, as I knew perfectly well that he would be in charge of the doctor’s men. So just for a bit of swank, I asked the doctor if he would allow me to have my ears syringed, so that I could be taken to the infirmary. On the way I passed him the article and note. All went well until the parade, when I was marched right from the infirmary to the separate cells. “Hullo,” says I, to the officer in charge, “what am I brought here for?” “You are under report,” says the officer. “And what for?” says I. “For attempting to traffic with an officer,” says he.  I have known some tricks played by officers and convicts, but never in all my experience have I known anything to come up to this. The following day I was brought before the Governor, and I was awarded ten days bread and water and forfeited ten weeks of my ticket of leave. It soon floated about the assistant warder had tried his hand for promotion, and he was hooted by convicts, and even some of the good officers threw him many a look of contempt. Thus his life in the convict service became a misery to him, and finally he was dismissed for trafficking, being caught “bang to rights,” as the “lags” call it.

Meanwhile I was undergoing my punishment but getting a bit daunted and my stomach getting a bit weak, I went beyond my food, for what I did eat did me no good whatever. One day the medical officer came to see me, and says he, “Why do you not eat your food, Williams?” “It is no use,” says I, “for I may as well snuff it now as any other time.” So, thinking me rather weak in my intellect, he ordered me to be taken to hospital, and to give him his due, he ordered me the best of diets, but no use, for my stomach was too weak to take it, and in reality, I knew that I was going off my head. One day the doctor again came to see me, and said, “look here, Williams, if you do not eat your food, I shall have to make use of the stomach pump.” “Pump away,” I replied, and sure enough pump away they did, for they placed me in the straight jacket, and strapped me to a chair, place a gag between my lips, and in this way they kept me alive with milk an brandy from the first of January to the 12th of July, 1904, when I was transferred to Parkhurst Convict Prison, Isle of Wight, as a weak-minded convict.

In my next chapter I will relate my experience at Parkhurst.

To be continued……

Merthyr Station and its Approaches

From the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today….

Merthyr Express – 29 July 1944

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 17

by Barrie Jones

Chapter XV. Henry recounts a personal experience of the search system.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 30th April 1910, page 11.

Chapter XV

Marching from the stone quarry at Portland back to the prison one day, I noticed that a whispered consultation was going on in the rear of the party between the Principal warder and the officer in charge, and I suspected that myself and one or two of the others, were the victims of this conspiracy, which was just beginning to ripen into action. As soon as ever we reached the parade, instead of marching straight to our usual place, the order was to march straight to the bathroom. Of course, we all knew then that meant a special search, for some convict, in order to curry favour, had been doing a bit of informing during the morning. They took us all by surprise. Now it happened at the time that I carried an ounce of thin “snout” (tobacco) in the waist band of my breeches, so I said within myself, “what on earth am I to do now, find it they surely will.” However, luck was in my favour that day, thanks to my presence of mind, and no thanks, but bad luck, I say, to the man who gave the information. One by one we filed into the empty bathroom, and I stepped down into my bath.

“Take off your boots, first,” said the officer, “Right you are,”  says I, trying to shake off my nervous sensations. As soon as I unlaced my boots I proceeded to unbutton my jacket, and all the time my heart was pounding so fast that I was afraid it would damage my ribs. I then took off one boot at a time, and I threw it right into the middle of the passage. Quite naturally, and exactly what I expected, the officer turned round to pick up the boot to see what was in the inside, and, like a flash of lightning, I whipped out the “snout” from my waistband, and dropped it at my feet, saying at the time, “Shall I take off my leggings next, sir?” “No,” says he, “let me have the other boot first,” which I gave to him at the same time planting my foot on the tobacco. I then took off my garments one by one, until I was as naked as the very first time I saw the lights of Cyfarthfa. After waiting for the space of five minutes he shut the door and departed, when I picked up my “snout,” bit a chew off, and smiled contentedly, at the event. Thus, I escaped what would otherwise have been a serious report, followed by fifteen days bread and water. My heart went back to its normal beat again. The moral of thus is, never allow your right hand know what the left is doing, for no matter how careful a man can be, there are others, and those who sometimes pretend to be your best friends, who will put you  away just for the sake of a smile and a little favouritism.

It is not so much the officers themselves who find these things out, for, like the policeman or the commonly called expert detective, their scent comes by information received, Thus, they obtain their promotion not by their own cleverness, but by the help given them from the criminal class.

To be continued….

Memories of Old Merthyr

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

George Thomas Clark by Henry Wyndham Phillips. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum and Art Gallery

Without being positive, it was early in the forties Mr George Thomas Clark can be first recalled at Dowlais. It was an open secret that he was not very acceptable to the Evanses, but a thunder-clap broke, and was stated that Thomas [Evans] was going away; that he was in fact going to Rhymney. His salary was £1,000 a year at Dowlais, but was to be £1,500 at Rhymney, with residence, and the other usual agent’s privileges. No doubt he would have gone had not Mr Clark left, and his salary increased to the Rhymney rate. The Dowlais Company had also to pay £800 for expenses the Rhymney Company had gone to in preparing a residence for him. This is proof of the value Sir John set on Mr T Evans’ services. He died, and Mr Clark afterwards became supreme at Dowlais.

It is thought appropriate to give some things that reflect that honour. Dowlais was ever progressive. There was neither lack of capital or skill. One consulting man engaged was Rastrick of Birmingham. When the drift into the coal was made at the back of the blast furnace yard, Rastrick designed a pair of winding engines the like of which is unknown. They were of the vibrating kind, moving upon trunnions at the bottom of the cylinders, with winding gear above.

The engines were made at the Neath Abbey Works, fixed and started, but some old and opinionated persons whispered, “Oh it will never do”. “Then I’ll put another” said Sir John. It did work, however, for years, but alas, as other things also, it did not get the attention it ought to have had, and with the alteration in the working of minerals it was disused.

Somewhere in 1838 or ’39 Mr John Russell, the doctor, was leaving, and in order to get the best man to succeed him, Sir John asked his London physician to visit Dowlais so as to learn the real condition of things in order to select the most suitable man he knew of. John L White was the only one selected, but Mawdesly (who has already been mentioned as the engineer of the Ivor Works) was ill, and was sent for to Dowlais House. The physician examined him and strongly recommended Mawdesly’ wintering in Madeira.

Some four days after, Sir John spoke to him about it, and Mawdesly frankly said it was beyond his means. “Don’t let that stand in the way; you shall go is you would like to” was told him to his comfort and the everlasting credit of Sir John. Returning is the spring better, he soon found himself falling back, and Sir John sent him for another winter to Funchal. Not much benefitted, he returned in 1841, and after a while left, first for Southport, his native place, and, going to Wolverton for a while, passed away there.

To be continued at a later date…….

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 16

by Barrie Jones

Chapter XIV (there is no Chapter XIII). Henry recounts the system “searching” and his skill as a bone faker.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 23rd April 1910, page 6.

Chapter XIV

Having been reported so many times, and seeing my remission rapidly decreasing, I thought it was just about time for me to try and “get a bit of my own back,” as the lags call it, so I thought I would try and turn my hand to something which would bring me in a little luxury; and if I happened to be caught, well then I should get punished for something which I did on more than one occasion, as my business was quite a puzzle to them. Nearly every day when I came in from the quarry, I would find my cell in a “topsy-turvy” condition, and every article, from my saltcellar to my shoelaces, turned over. Sometimes my cell was so artfully searched that I could hardly detect it, as all the things were so carefully arranged back into their proper places so as to deceive me and make me think that the searcher had not been there, but I was one too many for the searchers and warder, being equally as clever as they.

Many an old lag, double my experience, was in the habit of coming to me, and asking my advice as to which was the best place to plant this, or conceal that, but I never made it my business to tell them, for, one simple reason, should the searcher happen to draw his needle from a crack in the wall or behind the door with his magnet, then the lag in most cases would accuse me, and tell others that I “shopped” (informed) against him. But thank God, I never was called a “copper” (informer) during all my servitude. I always made it a habit to put a little black spot near the corner of my slate, with the edge just touching the spot, and should the slate be removed a little way or over the spot, then I would know at once that the searcher had been there. Another game the prison detective used to practise, but not a single convict did I ever know to tumble into it, but I found it out. The searchers, after searching the mattress, would sew the sides up with his own private stitching, then if a convict would undo the stitches in order to conceal anything in the mattress, even if he sewed it up again, he would tell the difference between his own stitches, and there would be a capture. I told the searcher this on one occasion, and he said, “Williams, how on earth did you tumble to it? Why, only the other day I captured an old lag in the very same way; but promise me, “he added, “that you won’t give the game away, and I will let you run loose.” I replied, “I shall tell no one.” At the same time, I warned several not to conceal anything in their mattresses.

My readers, no doubt, would like to know what the searcher was looking for every time he turned me and my cell over, and they will be surprised to learn that it was some toothpicks, and the tools I used in the manufacturing of them, that’s what they were after, for I was well known at Portland Prison as the “bone faker.” Instances of such could be seen in the stone quarry daily, when all sorts of conditions of bone would be offered me, even from the old tough chicken bone to the beautiful white mutton bone. The marrow bones I used in the manufacture of signet rings or tie clips, and thick mutton and beef bones for making ladies’ boots, with the imitation of the leg and two blades to be closed like a penknife. I also made the fancy pipe cleaners and scarf pins, the shape of hearts, anchors, Maltese crosses, etc. It was all these articles that the searchers were after, for I was known as the “bone faker” even from the common civil guard to the director. Although they were prohibited articles, they were highly interested in my bone carving, as the governor himself once told me, when reported for having one in my possession. “You are a clever man, Williams,” said he, “but I have told you before, it is against the rules, so therefore I must punish you.” “Alright, sir,” I replied, “it’s a fair cop; so many days No. 1, and so many marks, and I will start again after the punishment.”

My object in making these things was to exchange them for tobacco, which I would share equally with my fellow convicts, who ran the same risks in getting me the bones. How I managed to get the tobacco, of course, I shall not mention here, as it would be unfair to those who treated me with kindness. I will here give my readers one or two instances of how I cheated the searcher under his very eyes.

It was on a Saturday, in 1902, being a pudding day, that I was quite unexpectedly visited by the searcher already mentioned. It was after dinner, and I always made it my habit to save my pudding till suppertime, to eat with my cocoa, for I was particularly fond of “cold duff”; but this was not my sole object in saving it, for it served my purpose also as a toolbox. I know readers will laugh at the idea of a piece of “duff” serving as a toolbox, but my tools were not many, being only three in number, namely; an old piece of steel, a rusty barrow nail, and a piece of copper wire. With those prohibited articles on my table, I was busily at work, manufacturing a female’s boot, when I was suddenly given the tip, which meant the scratching of the iron partition of my next-door neighbour, whom I engaged in the observation line. Scarcely had I received the signal when the cell door was flung open, and in walked the searcher with his searching instruments, but it was too late, for my tools and unfinished article had disappeared as if by magic. I was ordered to strip naked; my clothes were searched; everything in my cell was turned over, but he found nothing, so he locked me up, and then departed. I then took up my “duff”, cut it in half, and out dropped my tools. I then finished my article. I exchanged it on the following Monday for an ounce of twist, and gave my pal his whack, who heartily thanked me with a “God bless you, Williams: I have not smelt a chew for over two years.” I made a friend of that little fellow, who was known as Brunney George Devereux, undergoing a term of six years. I never did regret it, for he was as true as gold, and not like some of them, who are for ever putting their fellow prisoners away, As I have already mentioned, in order to carry favour with an official.

In the next chapter, I will give you an account of how I cheated a screw at the impulse of the moment, and how I was transferred from Portland to Parkhurst Prison, Isle of Wight.

To be continued….

The Passing of Bethel – part 2

A CWMTAF CHAPEL TO DISAPPEAR AT YNYSFELIN

Transcribed from the Merthyr Express 30th May 1914

In 1795, a few members from Zion Baptist Church, Merthyr, went up to hold meetings in a farmhouse, close by the chapel, called Penpont, and these services were continued for some years on Sundays. They were held in the farmhouses. In 1798 twelve members were discharged from Zion in order to form a church at Ynysfelin. On January 25th of that year, Mr David Davies was ordained as the first minister of the church. He was also a farmer. In 1836 he was privileged to have a co-pastor, for in that year his son (also named David Davies) was ordained to the ministry. The roll of members during this time was about 60, but the number has been even more than that. Father and son seem to have been highly respected and their services much appreciated. They were reckoned very good preachers.

Among the ministers who have hailed from this little church was the Rev Jenkin Thomas who became famous as a preacher throughout England. He was one of the foremost preachers of the Baptist denomination in his day. His chief ministry seems to have been done in Cheltenham.

The two Davies’s were the grandfather and father of Mr Herbert Davies, now of the Hendre, Cwmtaf. Both Davies were judged to be of noble Christian character, and endowed with strong preaching powers. They lived, each of them, to be over 80 years of age, and their descendants still remain in the neighbourhood. David Davies junior occupied for many years Abernant Farm.

From the records he has left behind him he was a man of many parts, and was as efficient in sowing the corn in the fields as he was in sowing the word on Sundays from the pulpit. All branches of the farmer’s varied duties were by him thoroughly carried out. He could be at the carpenter’s bench, or at the shoemaker’s last. As butcher he would be called to neighbouring farms to kill and dress a pig, sheep or ox. And if a will was to be proved, David Davies was the counsellor sought to assist in the work. Farmers consulted him about the payment of taxes, rates and rents. His M.S.S. (both his diaries and sermons) show him to be man of keen intellect, and wide knowledge, and a shrews observer of events. The handwriting (in Welsh) indicates great care and attention to details. And he had acquired the art of taking pains, the handwriting being neat, straight and clean, and the language choice and scriptural. His steady hand indicates that he was either a total abstainer from intoxicants or a very temperate man indeed. A striking trait in his character was his gift of keeping records of daily events for the last 36 years of his life. There are four books (his diaries) in Welsh commencing on August 23rd 1834, and reaching to March 18th 1869. Not a single day during that long period seems to have escaped his notice. The entries contain details which are most interesting. Opposite every day he notes the weather, wet, dry etc, his own work or employment, and other interesting events that came within his knowledge or observation. Sunday’s records include texts for sermons he either preached himself or had listened to from others.

The following are a few examples:- 1834, Sunday, August 31, fine: morning Bethel, father preaching I Cor, 15.58; evening, self preaching I Cor, 18. 1837, December 20, rain, threshing corn in Abernant. 1847, June 16, rain, mending the children’s boots. September 9, fine, Brecon Fair; proving will, Watkin Morris. 1869, March 9, cold, Troedyrhiw, funeral of my sister Jane. The reader will have some idea of the interesting work to read over such a daily record for 36 years. He lived a strenuous life, clean and strong. He was a very prosperous farmer and a popular preacher. He travelled much to preach on Sundays, and wherever there was trouble David Davies was sought to comfort and solace.

Other ministers who, after him, have done faithful and most acceptable service to the church are Rev T Salathiel and Rev J D Hughes, Cefn, whose family still live at Cefn, Mr Hughes for many years walked on Sunday to preach to the little flock who were always looking forward with pleasure to his visits. He was beloved by all.

The new chapel erected by the Corporation stands on the side of the road, about two miles from Cefn, and is a modern, pretty and well built structure. The remains will be removed into the burial ground adjoining the new chapel. The families of Penpont, Celleia, Penrheol, Grawen and Danygraig Farms are among the faithful members of the church. Mr and Mrs Herbert Davies, the Hendre are also among the pillars of the cause. Mr Davies seems to have received the mantle of his father, in the sense of his unflagging interest and zeal for the welfare of the little church.

The farewell service was held on May 19th and a good congregation attended. In addition to the local friends, other descendants of the Davieses attended, including Miss Watkins and Mrs Edwards, Garth, Dowlais; Mrs Matthew Owen, Mrs Hughes, widow of the late Rev J D Hughes, and other friends from Cefn were also present. Rev Rowland Jones, B.A., Troedyrhiw, preached an appropriate sermon, and the Rev D L Jones, the present minister of the church, gave an account of the church from its origin. Mr Price, Penderyn, and Mr Matthew Owen also delivered addresses. Rev D L Jones is doing good work here, and we wish him and his flock the rich blessing of God upon their labours.

The new Bethel Chapel

The Passing of Bethel – part 1

A CWMTAF CHAPEL TO DISAPPEAR AT YNYSFELIN

Transcribed from the Merthyr Express 30th May 1914 – 110 years ago today.

Cwmtaf is undergoing a transformation, whereby a large number of the rural population are to be displaced by the assembling of many waters. Homesteads, which for generations have been abodes of farmers, will be lost forever, the fields and cornlands being submerged under the waters of the Cardiff Corporation Reservoir. This third and largest pond in the valley, will cover the low lying parts – the ploughshare and scythe will be used no longer, and the bleating of sheep and the lowing of kine will for ever be silenced. The shepherd’s shrill morning whistle, and the ploughman’s song, and the milkmaid’s merry tattle will be no more. Instead of the humble, yet happy life in and around the whitewashed farmhouses, silence deep and long will reign, broken only by the rippling of the waves on the water, and by the rattle of wheels and the echo of the motor’s horn. Instead of nature’s carpet of greensward, so pleasing to the eye, a sheet of water will appear, stretching far alongside the high road leading to Brecon from Merthyr. A Varied and beautiful landscape is to be changed for the monotonous sight of a tedious surface of water. The loss will be a very real one, not only in the disappearance of rich lands and fertile meadows, but in the vanishing of a panorama of “living pictures” presented annually by nature’s rolling seasons. The old order changeth. Many a dream of the past will disturb the slumbers of the evicted peasants, and many a sigh will rise in the heart of young and old who in their humble way passed through life in play and toil. The passionate heart of the poet and the contented mood of the swain will bewail the loss of their rare inheritance.

Although the lake is beautiful, yet it is not so beautiful as the sea. The two mighty things on earth are the great ocean, restless and mysterious, and nature in her various moods. The colourless, smooth area of a lake in not a worthy substitute for the glories of summer or the tints of autumn. The golden age of this spot is passing. We may aptly apply these words to the glories of the past:-

“How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill”

These were thy charms, but also these charms are fled.

Not only must the living depart, but even the shade of the dead must be changed. Their remains are to have a new resting place. Bethel, near Ynysfelin, the little shrine, where for over 125 years generations of worshippers have assembled, is to disappear, and a new Bethel has been erected lower down the valley.

On Tuesday, May 19th, a service was held to bid a last farewell to the place. It was a sad parting to most of the worshippers. The spot and edifice were hallowed to their hearts. Here for many a year their forefathers met to worship and to praise; there also lie the remains of their departed loved ones, in the adjoining graveyard. Sacred associations, too deep and too real to be expressed in words, arise from the past. The struggling pangs of conscious truth, and the experience of the peace and joy of the gospel of Jesus Christ were the portion of the humble folk who assembled within the unadorned walls of this little temple.

The chapel stands on the slopes of the hill overlooking the valley on the right bank of the Taf Fawr, and about three miles from Cefn Coed. In front of the chapel passes the road over the mountain to Penderyn. Near it are the ruins of an old corn mill (afterwards a woollen factory) worked by a huge water wheel. The usual convenient “inn” is also close by. This historic church in one f the oldest in the neighbouring districts: it was founded before any of the Nonconformist churches in Cefn, except the Unitarian Church. The first chapel (Bethel) was built in 1799, and was opened free of debt. This, however, was replaced some years later by the present structure.

Old Bethel Chapel, Cwmtaff

To be continued…..