Collier Lad

Dare Valley Country Park

Collier lad, where are you, now?
Now that the coal dust has settled
On this valley, that once vibrated
To the hum of pit head winding wheels.

Your lamp, extinguished
When the last seam came to an end,
When the last tram rolled to a halt,
And the last shift clocked off.

Fourteen, you were. A child.
But Dad was gone;
A victim of your valley’s success;
And no one else to feed the family.

So down you went;
Down into the deep, dark mine,
To bend your back and dig,
Like any other man.

Then came the closure.
Pit-head baths run dry.
And were you sorry?
Oh no. No more mines for you.

Just a wracking cough
That tortured your lungs,
And an aching back with black scars
To remind you of the life you’d lived.

And now, now that all the coal is gone,
Who remembers?
Walking through the country park
That once was colliery.

The lake, man-made,
Once full of earth’s dark matter,
That fed the washeries,
Now clean, and stocked with fish.

A park-like garden
Where wild flowers grow
And wild animals roam
And memories drift by.

A park, where once you toiled;
You, and so many like you;
Not knowing, when the alarm whistle sounded,
Whether you would live or die.

And you are gone,
Though memories linger
Of the sacrifice you made
To feed the greedy flames.

Sleep well, my son.
Rest your weary head.
And know that as these paths are crossed, today,
A memory of you lives on.

The Treasures of Days Gone By

In an age when we have been trained to discard things very quickly and replace them with something new, would it not be good to remember that the discarded item was once useful, valuable, necessary, even. Often, when we make a new purchase, we praise it highly, boast about the “bargain” that we struck, and tell others that we don’t know how we ever managed without it. So what changed? Why is a perfectly useful item no longer necessary? Like this door, have we forgotten its value?

Ivied Door at St Fagans

Old doorway now closed.

Ivied frame sealed shut with age.

It once was useful.

We were sitting at the picnic table, enjoying our lunch on a visit to the Museum of Welsh Life at St Fagans when I noticed this old doorway, surrounded by ivy. I was struck by the way the ivy frames the door, and the contrasts between the various colours and materials.

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