Now that a new council has been elected to serve the people of Conwy, I look forward very much to seeing who will be appointed as cabinet member with responsibility for handling the issue of Colwyn Bay pier.
I also look forward to meeting him/her as soon as possible.
Posted in Colwyn Bay pier, Council elections
There has been yet a further development in the strange, eventful history of Colwyn Bay pier.
Today, in Mold County Court, His Honour Judge Milwyn Jarman QC adjourned the hearing of Mr Steve Hunt’s claim for a vesting order to a date to be fixed later this year.
The consequence is that the council’s title to the pier will remain unclear until the court has made its final order. It should be noted that judge apparently criticised the council for failing to file its skeleton argument until late on Friday afternoon.
This really is a dreadful mess, and it must be wondered why the council thought it a good idea to acquire the pier when it knew that there was a dispute over its ownership.
One must equally wonder why, in the circumstances, the Welsh Assembly Government thought it sensible to pay a large sum of money, believed to be around £36,000, for the pier.
Given the continued litigation, I’ll leave it at that. I’m far from happy, and I shall certainly be discussing the issue with the new council leader as soon as possible after the local elections.
Posted in Colwyn Bay pier
Tagged Conwy County Borough Council, Steve Hunt, Welsh Assembly Government
This morning, Sara and I attended a memorial service at St Trillo’s church, Rhos on Sea, for the victims of the Titanic disaster a century ago. The service also honoured the memory of Commander Harold Lowe, a native of Barmouth who was fifth officer on the ship and who was commended for his coolness in organising the lifeboats to pick up survivors after it sank. Commander Lowe is buried in St Trillo’s churchyard and I was pleased that his grandson, John, was also present.
St Trillo’s is an ancient church with long seafaring connections. It was for many years painted white (a practice recently revived), enabling it to serve as a navigation mark for ships on Liverpool Bay. Its tower is topped with a construction known as the Rector’s Chair, which once held a brazier that was lit when enemy ships were sighted.
John Lowe told me how deeply touched he had been by the fact that his grandfather’s memory was still so honoured a hundred years after the Titanic sank. It is, however, unsurprising that it is, given that his conduct that night was so outstandingly brave.
The Titanic disaster will, I am sure, live on in our national consciousness for many years to come. The impact of the disaster upon Britain was, in many ways, similar to that of the destruction of the World Trade Center on the United States.
The Titanic was vaunted by its constructors to be of such an advanced design as to be unsinkable. Similarly, I remember visiting one of the Twin Towers in February, 2001, and being told be a guide that the skyscraper had been designed to withstand the impact of an aircraft.
Both the Titanic and the World Trade Center were visible symbols of national prestige. Both were destroyed by dreadful and unforeseen forces; in the case of one, the power of nature, and, of the other, human evil.
In each disaster, the conduct of individual people illuminated the dreadfulness and gave cause for faith in the essential decency of humankind.
That is why it is right that we should revere the memories of people such as Harold Lowe, just as we should remember those victims and rescuers who lost their lives in New York City on 11 September, 2001.
Posted in Clwyd West, Life
Tagged Harold Lowe, Rhos on Sea, RMS Titanic, World Trade Center
This blog appears to have attracted the attention of Mr Llŷr Huws Gruffydd, who is a Plaid Cymru regional Assembly member for North Wales.
Quoted in the North Wales Pioneer, Mr Gruffydd suggests that my criticisms of Conwy Council’s handling of the Colwyn Bay pier issue are “potentially harmful to the council’s efforts to acquire further funds for the pier”.
He says:
“Publicly doubting the council’s endeavours will only hinder the efforts to save the pier. He really should know better.”
Mr Gruffydd clearly does not get it.
Contrary to his views, the essential problem is that nowhere near enough public scrutiny of the council’s proposals for the pier has ever taken place. If it had, the current sad state of affairs might have been averted. We need more public discussion of this important issue, not less.
It is also worth pointing out that the group running the council at the relevant time was a coalition of parties led by Plaid Cymru.
So perhaps Mr Gruffydd ought to be having a quiet word with the likes of Dilwyn Roberts, the former Plaid council leader, and Phil Edwards, former leader of the Plaid Cymru group, rather than berating those who are trying to shine a little light on the routinely opaque modus operandi that seems to have prevailed in Conwy when his party was in charge.
He really should know better.
Posted in Colwyn Bay pier
Tagged Colwyn Bay, Conwy County Borough Council, Phil Edwards, Plaid Cymru
Sara and I were at the launch last night of local historian Graham Roberts’s latest book, Colwyn Bay at War.
The event, at the church hall in St George’s Drive, Rhos on Sea, was attended by hundreds of local people, most of whom bought copies of the book, all of which Graham autographed.
During World War II, virtually all the hotels in Colwyn Bay, as well as Rydal and Penrhos schools, were requisitioned by the Ministry of Food, many of whose civil servants remained in the town until well into the 1950s.
The work they carried out was tremendously important. As Graham puts it in the book:
“Britain was probably the only country in Europe never in danger of starving during the war, thanks to the organisational skills of the civil servants working in Colwyn Bay, to our fertile soil and continuing trade links with the rest of the world.”
Graham gave the audience a very witty introduction to the book, observing that Colwyn Bay had a “very good war”. The Ministry of Food officials brought a new vibrancy to the town, which was augmented by the presence of several hundred American GIs.
There were, however, some privations. One lady present at last night’s event recalled that orange juice was strictly reserved for infants.
“I was eight years old when the war started,” she reminisced. “Too old for orange juice and too young for Yanks.”
Graham Roberts developing writer's cramp
Inspired by David Cameron’s recent visit to Porthdinllaen, Tim Erasmus has written an interesting blog post on Prime Ministers who chose North Wales for their holidays. I commend it to readers, if only for the insight it provides into the amorous adventures of Herbert Asquith, a Prime Minister I had previously thought of as weak, indecisive and vacillating, and certainly no Lothario.
The post also includes a photo of a vacationing Churchill, who was himself a visitor to the area.
My late uncle, W O Jones, once told me of an encounter he had with Churchill and David Lloyd George at the Royal St David’s golf course in Harlech.
W O and a friend had applied to become members of the club, where it was the practice for probationers to make themselves available for caddying duty for several months before full membership could be conferred.
On the day in question, the two young men were waiting at the club when Lloyd George and Churchill turned up and accepted their offer to act as caddies. W O carried Lloyd George’s clubs and his friend caddied for Churchill.
At the end of the round, each statesman pressed a coin in his caddy’s hand. W O was delighted to find that he had been tipped a half sovereign by L-G and then a little deflated to find that his friend had received a full sovereign from Churchill.
Both young men had done rather well, though. This was before the First World War, when many a man of similar age could have lived for a week on Churchill’s bounty.
Posted in Trivia
Tagged David Cameron, David Lloyd George, H. H. Asquith, North Wales, Winston Churchill
Out canvassing this evening in Colwyn Bay with a strong team of activists. We covered a large area in one of the hillier parts of this hilly town.
Canvassing is the best part of politics. The very best. There’s nothing like it. You can expatiate to your ego’s content on the floor of the House or pronounce ad nauseam to the proffered mike. You can send out your press releases, compose your newsletters and do all the whizzo social networking that technology allows; but no other campaigning technique is quarter as effective as speaking to people on their own doorstep.
Because there, they are not “the electorate”. They are not focus groups. They are people whose suppers you have disturbed, who are trying to put the children to bed, who were listening to the news, who want to get the lawn mown before it gets dark. They’re real people who weren’t expecting you, and, to be honest, they’re in a bit of a rush.
Not that they’re ever rude, of course. British people rarely are. In fact, they’re the politest people on earth. Even if they won’t vote for you, they’ll usually apologise for it: ”I’m sorry, but we’re Labour.” They’re nice people.
And, by and large, they won’t give you too hard a time, either. They actually appreciate the fact the you’ve called. On the whole.
But they do want to know your position on the issues they’re concerned about. Which, even if it’s a local election, are usually national ones. Taxes, pensions, policing. And they’re usually well-informed about them, too.
So to heck with the computer and the studio: go for the doorstep. Every time. Speak to your voters; listen to them; let them listen to you. Have a laugh with them. Argue with them even, but not too much.
And most of all, respect them. Completely. Because they are the reason you’re there in the first place.
And, without them, you are entirely irrelevant.
