Category Archives: Clwyd West

Remembering the Titanic

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.

Pride of North Wales

The Easter break also gives me the opportunity to blog my appreciation of the actions of the emergency services in dealing with the wreck of the MV Carrier at Raynes jetty, Llanddulas.

The rescue of the seven crew members, in the appallingly foul weather of the night of 3-4 April, was nothing short of astonishing.  The seamen, all Polish, were successfully winched off the ship by helicopters from RAF Leconfield and RNAS Prestwick.   Also involved in the operation were the Llandudno and Rhyl lifeboats, HM Coastguard, North Wales Police and North Wales Fire and Rescue. 

Remarkably, not one of the crew or the rescuers was injured.  It was a textbook operation, properly praised by the Prime Minister when he visited Llandudno yesterday.

Since the events of that night, arrangements have been made for removal of the ship’s fuel, which it was feared might significantly pollute the coast.  The contract provides that the pumping vehicles must be stationed on the cycle path above the wreck, ensuring that the A55 remains open throughout the bank holiday weekend.  When the vessel has been emptied of fuel, attempts will be made to refloat her.

I have discussed the incident with my colleague Mike Penning MP, the shipping minister, and have also had daily briefings from Gold command.  I have been enormously impressed by the quiet efficiency shown by the senior police officers in charge of managing the incident.

The conduct of all the emergency services on Tuesday night, and since, has been wholly exemplary.  We in North Wales should be thoroughly proud of them.

Glyn still blooming

Yesterday, for the sixth year running, I participated in the judging of the annual “Glyn in Bloom” competition, which has become a firmly established feature of civic life in that part of Colwyn Bay.

The concept is simple: Glyn is divided up into individual streets, and first, second and third prizes are awarded to the best front gardens.  Up to two additional merit awards are given, to encourage completion.  The result is that over the past five years, the overall standard of gardens in the Glyn has visibly improved and the competition is keenly contested.  . 

Paul Richards, the local town councillor who plays a big part in organising “Glyn in Bloom”, told me that its annual cost is no more than £250.  To see such a positive impact on civic pride in return for so small an outlay is truly to appreciate the meaning of “bang for the buck”.   

I am pictured with Phill Williams, one of this year’s winners, whose garden in Ffordd Dawel is an absolute delight.

Why Sodom?

Llanrhaeadr show yesterday, and the weather turned fine after an early morning cloudburst.

The show was one of the best attended of recent years, with high standards in all classes, particularly the pony section.

Entering the showground, I did a double-take at the incongruous sight of an enclosure what I thought were llamas, but in fact turned out to be alpacas, from a herd established at the wonderfully-named Sodom Hall, near Bodfari.  They were beautiful, gentle animals and produce, I am told, exceptionally fine wool.

If anyone knows why the area they come from is called Sodom, I will be fascinated (albeit a little nervous) to hear. 

May blossom

Throwing open the curtains this morning, I am greeted by a brilliantly clear day.  So clear, indeed, that it is hard to believe that, high above me in the stratosphere, there is a pall of Icelandic volcanic ash so dense that, once again, flights from British airports are grounded.

The ash cloud has not, however, descended to the lower reaches of the atmosphere.  It is, I repeat, a stunningly clear day: so clear, that it is possible to pick out every sheep enclosure, every whitewashed cottage on the slopes of the Carneddau, now free, at last, of the snows that have lingered since October. 

The may is breaking into blossom, too, throughout North Wales.  The journey back from Ruthin surgery yesterday was a delight, the Clwydian roads lined with hawthorn trees heavy with the white, sometimes pink, bloom that is the cheerful hallmark of springtime here; the most visible sign of nature’s renewal.

Today I must drive back to London, taking with me boxes of files that were temporarily removed to the constituency during the election campaign.  The Mini is crammed full of them; it took me ages to get them in and I have no idea how I will unload them when I arrive.  I’m beginning to think that I may, sadly, need a four-door car again.

And tomorrow, there will be new challenges.  New job, new office, new colleagues, new routines.  The familiar process of adapting to the unfamiliar.

But new is good; new means progress.  New means change. 

Change, heaven knows, is what our country has needed, for so very long.  And change, at last,  has started.

Ain’t that the truth

To Abergele, and the annual concert in aid of the hospital’s League of Friends.

The choir this evening was Côr Meibion Bro Aled, Llansannan, recently returned from a tour of Ontario.  They started with I bob un sy’n ffyddlon and never looked back.  It was a great night.

Shortly after the interval, the MC cast a mischievous glance in my direction and informed the audience that politics was:

the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies.

The quotation seemed vaguely familiar.  After I returned home, I looked it up. 

It was by Groucho Marx, probably the greatest Marx who ever lived.

Thank you, Clwyd West

A long, but very gratifying night. 

At 3.00 a.m. I was informed that my slender majority of 133 had been transformed, courtesy of the electors of Clwyd West, into one of 6,419.  My gratitude to the people of my constituency for their renewed confidence is unbounded.

Today, after four unremittingly hard weeks of pavement bashing, door knocking and flesh pressing, I decided to sneak a few hours off.  But the phone has rung constantly, the BlackBerry has continued to buzz and I have spoken to innumerable friends, colleagues and acquaintances, all offering their good wishes.  I am so grateful to them all.

The campaign has been hard, but rewarding.  I have had the support of a tremendous team of volunteers from all parts of the country, all of whom have given cheerfully and unstintingly of their time, patience and money.  I have spoken to literally thousands of constituents, most of whom were surprisingly pleased to find a politician on their doorstep.  I have enjoyed being out and about in the towns, villages and countryside of this exceptionally lovely constituency.  I have laughed a lot.  I have developed a good tan.

And now, at the end of it all, I sit here, glued to the TV, awaiting events at Westminster, to which I am pleased to say I shall be returning next week.

It has been a great month.  Thank you, Clwyd West.

Theft and criminal damage

The Conservatives’ poster displays have outshone all other parties’ throughout North Wales this general election.  However, activists have become increasingly concerned at the prevalence of vandalism and theft of posters on a scale never previously experienced.

This evening, I was contacted by one of our team from Ruthin, who told me that three prominent posters have been stolen today.  They will, of course, be replaced.

And the culprits?  Well, I’m not pointing the finger at anyone, but it was noticeable that a nearby green and yellow poster was untouched. 

Rural ride

As I have previously blogged, this election campaign’s weather has been almost unbelievably pleasant, making it a joy for us to journey through the notably beautiful Clwyd West landscape.

Yesterday was probably the finest we have had so far, with the Land Rover’s thermometer hovering just below 20°C.  We campaigned in Ruthin, followed by the villages of Llanbedr, Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr, Cerrigydrudion, Glasfryn and Pentrefoelas.  We then tracked back to Colwyn Bay across the Denbigh moors, stopping in Gwytherin en route.  It was a grand tour of matchless beauty.

There was, however, a touch of bleakness beneath the surface.  In Cerrigydrudion, the butcher’s shop had closed.  Petrol was retailing at 129.9p per litre.  There was a sign on the facade of the famous White Lion announcing that its tenancy was available.  The pub – the only one left in the village – had briefly closed, but was now apparently operated by a manager.

A man came up to me and asked if I could help revive the daily bus service, which had not operated for several months.  He couldn’t afford to run a car and was unable to find work because he was  now unable to travel out of the village.  He was, he said, very demoralised.

The rural areas of this country have been arguably even more severely affected than our towns and cities during this long, deep and bitter recession.  For many, life in the countryside is becoming progressively more difficult.  This has to change; but change is unlikely under a Labour government whose history, outlook and mindset are firmly and immutably urban.

A good reason to get rid of Gordon

Ruthin hustings last night; very well attended, despite the competing political attraction in Bristol and the sporting one in Madrid.

The first question from the audience was about my Labour opponent’s election address and its allegation that the Conservatives will scrap free bus passes for pensioners: why, asked the questioner, was the candidate publishing something that was not true?

The candidate appeared very uncomfortable and mumbled something which amounted to considerably less than a denial that the document was a lie.  I said, for the umpteenth time during this campaign, that the leaflet was indeed untrue and that we will not only keep free bus passes, but also the winter fuel allowance and free TV licences for the over 75s.  I did not, I said, blame the Labour candidate particularly, but I did blame her party’s spin machine for peddling lies because it had nothing positive to say.

Meanwhile, in Bristol, something similar was happening.  In the Leaders’ debate, David Cameron took Gordon Brown to task over the lies, which have been published by Labour candidates up and down the country.  Cameron told Brown the he should not be resorting to frightening people in an election campaign and that he should be ashamed of himself.  Disgracefully, Brown’s only reply was  that he had not personally authorised the leaflets.

The exchange illustrates what a spineless, odious man Gordon Brown is.  He should have admitted immediately that the leaflets are lies and apologised unreservedly for them.  Instead, as ever, he sought to dodge personal responsibility and was happy to hang his candidates, including my hapless opponent in Clwyd West, out to dry.

The sooner our country ceases to be governed by this appalling individual, the better.

A strong heart

I received a letter this morning from one of my favourite regular correspondents: a 92 year-old lady who lives in a nursing home in the constituency.  I always enjoy hearing from her, because she invariably lends a touch of good-humoured sanity to the otherwise manic life of Westminster.

Her latest letter, however, is a touch sadder than usual.  She tells me that she is now, at the end of her long life, waiting to die.  She concludes:

“I can’t read this through – sight is failing, hearing is failing, the will to live has virtually failed.  But the heart goes on ticking. 

“A strong heart is the best friend all through life, but the worst enemy in the end.”

Probably the most poignant words I have read for a very long time.

One day, two villages

One day, two villages at opposite ends of the constituency.

First was civic Sunday at Mochdre, where my friend Heather Evans is chairman of the community council.  There was a good turn-out at the village hall, followed by a buffet at the Mountain View, which, unfortunately, we had to pass up, because we were making our way to Llanarmon yn Iâl harvest festival, 40 miles away.

St_Garmon's_Church,_Llanarmon-yn-IâlLlanarmon is an ancient parish with historical links to the abbey of Valle Crucis, near Llangollen.  The service, which was packed, was illuminated by a huge candelabrum which reputedly was taken from the abbey at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries.

 Two villages; very different, but sharing the same community spirit – the sort we are constantly told is dead, but is alive and thriving in Clwyd West.

Differences but no divisions

Bangra

To Colwyn Bay, and the mayor’s civic Sunday.

This year, Bay of Colwyn’s mayor is my friend Cllr Abdul Khan, the first ever Muslim to be appointed to the office, and there was a terrific turnout at the civic centre, where guests included the Lord Lieutenant and the Bangladeshi Assistant High Commissioner.

Abdul was kind enough to ask me to speak before lunch and I made the point that Colwyn Bay is a single, united community and that, although there are differences among people, there are, and should be, no divisions.  The fact that Abdul has been elected first citizen of his home town is sufficient evidence of that.

After lunch, we were entertained with a breathtaking display of Punjabi dancing given by the “Nach-de-Sansar” Bangra Dancers.  If you’ve never seen Bangra, then you can have no idea what a high-speed, high-energy art form it is. 

The audience was then invited onto the floor to try a few steps for themselves.  I’m pleased to say that most of us were sporting enough to do so.  I’m equally pleased to report that we finished the afternoon breathless, but otherwise relatively unharmed.

Taxing the countryside

Phone call today from Tom Livingstone, the Western Mail’s excellent political editor.  He’s writing a piece about the 2p hike in fuel duty due next week.  Is it, he asks, a big issue in rural North Wales?

You betcha, I reply, in best Sarah Palin manner.  It’s a massive issue. 

The problem is that, in a lot of Clwyd West, there’s no alternative to the car as a means of transport.  People can’t economise on fuel, because they’ve already cut their car journeys to an absolute minimum.  I have a constituent who commutes daily from Clawddnewydd to Trawsfynydd; it’s costing him a bomb, but, as he puts it, he doesn’t exactly live on a main bus route.

The underlying price of oil is, of course, increasing, so the Treasury is having a massive duty windfall already.  The hike is therefore highway robbery.  The answer is George Osborne’s fair fuel stabiliser, which reins back the duty when oil prices are high, but Gordon won’t go for that because his tax take is down 20 per cent and he’s panicking.

So is it an election issue?  It most certainly is, Tom.  People who live in the countryside are mad as heck that the Government neither understands nor cares about the pain they’re feeling. 

Labour will be hammered in the rural areas, not least because of the price of fuel.  And boy, do they deserve it.

More power for councils

Paid my annual visit to Bay of Colwyn Town Council this evening; on the agenda were the issues of policing, the pier, the town centre regeneration and alcohol-related disorder.

Town and community councils are the building blocks of our democracy; their members are most closely in touch with the people they serve.  Unfortunately, in Wales, there is an increasing tendency for the Assembly Government to seek to centralise power in Cardiff, away from local councils. 

This should be reversed.  Councils should have greater power, not less.