Rhyd life stories
Although I take my hobby seriously it is also a source of much fun and amusement. Here is some of it!
The locomotive formally known as Prince and Purple Train
Dai the Death
The first successful undertaker (and cabinet maker) in Dinas Manod was John Young; universally known as ‘Coffin John’, although in later days his habit of smoking 40 to 50 Park Drive cigarettes every day, caused the odd wag to muse whether it should be spelled ‘Coffin’ or ‘Coughing’! John had three children one son, David, and two daughters, Blodwen and Enfys, and as they got older John wanted to provide for them so he built a small terrace of cottages on land he owned next to the station. There was no sense of equality in those days, so for David, he built a four bedroom double fronted house, while the two 'girls' got something exactly half the size. In the way of this part of Wales David had a
The first successful undertaker (and cabinet maker) in Dinas Manod was John Young; universally known as ‘Coffin John’, although in later days his habit of smoking 40 to 50 Park Drive cigarettes every day, caused the odd wag to muse whether it should be spelled ‘Coffin’ or ‘Coughing’! John had three children one son, David, and two daughters, Blodwen and Enfys, and as they got older John wanted to provide for them so he built a small terrace of cottages on land he owned next to the station. There was no sense of equality in those days, so for David, he built a four bedroom double fronted house, while the two 'girls' got something exactly half the size. In the way of this part of Wales David had a
progression of nick-names; at primary school he was called simply ‘Young Dai’, in secondary school that had become ‘The Good (Dai Young)’, on entering the business ‘Dai the Death’ and now in his dotage his tardiness and absent –mindedness has give rise ‘The Late Dai Young’. David and his two sisters built the firm up, and he erected his ‘Coffin Workshop’ next to the house so their premises in Dinas Manod are now dedicated to bespoke furniture. Now retired, David is often to be seen sitting outside his house watching the trains go by, Blod is still involved but the business is now run by David’s son, John, and Blod’s son Winfford – both of whom live in larger houses in the town.
The Pie
Before leaving yesterday afternoon, Bryn, big Sybil’s driver, went to the Brookford Arms for a quick drink with the Earl’s crews. He noticed the sign;
Special Offer
A pint, a pie and a cheery word
1/6d
(To translate into non-1935 language - £8-00)
“I’ll have the special,” said Bryn.
The barman sulkily drew a pint and banged it down on the bar, before shambling away to the back room where he returned with the pie; which also hit the bar with a thump and stood, staring at Bryn.
Bryn smiled bashfully and said, “What about the cheery word?”
“Don't eat the pie”, mumbled the barman.
Before leaving yesterday afternoon, Bryn, big Sybil’s driver, went to the Brookford Arms for a quick drink with the Earl’s crews. He noticed the sign;
Special Offer
A pint, a pie and a cheery word
1/6d
(To translate into non-1935 language - £8-00)
“I’ll have the special,” said Bryn.
The barman sulkily drew a pint and banged it down on the bar, before shambling away to the back room where he returned with the pie; which also hit the bar with a thump and stood, staring at Bryn.
Bryn smiled bashfully and said, “What about the cheery word?”
“Don't eat the pie”, mumbled the barman.
Y Croes y Manod
When the very first slate tramway was being built down Cwm Swllt a short embankment was needed to take the line round the southern outskirts of Dinas Manod. During its excavation the buried remains of a broken Celtic Cross were discovered.
Now the whole story can be told as well as answering the frequently asked question as to why Teddy Titmus, in the ticket office at Dinas Manod, has as his screen saver, the close up image of what appears to be a bright blue and slightly deflated hot air balloon?
They were put into safe storage and were eventually donated to the Welsh Museum of Dead Stones, where they lay undisturbed and probably unnoticed for an entire generation.
In more recent years, once the deviation was finished with the Dduallt Loop and new Moelwyn Tunnel bands of feral Deviationists were to be found haphazardly wandering all over Wales looking for any possible restoration projects which had, even the slightest, connection with the railway. One such band made a night-time raid on the Museum of Dead Stones and liberated the Dinas Manod Celtic Cross.
Research, and a vague understanding of the Welsh Runic Alphabet, showed that the cross had originally been dedicated to Saint Alun-Wyn, ‘The Lion of Wales’ and folklore had it that it was the Saint himself who “rote it thrice asunder” after raiders from across the Border had stolen the Welsh Crown after a fierce gem a rhygbi contest.
The Deviationists smuggled the broken cross away and took it to Eli Ffestinstein, the local Jewish Tailors for invisible mending and Eli’s son returned the Cross, barely twenty-five years later, now whole and bearing no visible signs of repair
When the very first slate tramway was being built down Cwm Swllt a short embankment was needed to take the line round the southern outskirts of Dinas Manod. During its excavation the buried remains of a broken Celtic Cross were discovered.
Now the whole story can be told as well as answering the frequently asked question as to why Teddy Titmus, in the ticket office at Dinas Manod, has as his screen saver, the close up image of what appears to be a bright blue and slightly deflated hot air balloon?
They were put into safe storage and were eventually donated to the Welsh Museum of Dead Stones, where they lay undisturbed and probably unnoticed for an entire generation.
In more recent years, once the deviation was finished with the Dduallt Loop and new Moelwyn Tunnel bands of feral Deviationists were to be found haphazardly wandering all over Wales looking for any possible restoration projects which had, even the slightest, connection with the railway. One such band made a night-time raid on the Museum of Dead Stones and liberated the Dinas Manod Celtic Cross.
Research, and a vague understanding of the Welsh Runic Alphabet, showed that the cross had originally been dedicated to Saint Alun-Wyn, ‘The Lion of Wales’ and folklore had it that it was the Saint himself who “rote it thrice asunder” after raiders from across the Border had stolen the Welsh Crown after a fierce gem a rhygbi contest.
The Deviationists smuggled the broken cross away and took it to Eli Ffestinstein, the local Jewish Tailors for invisible mending and Eli’s son returned the Cross, barely twenty-five years later, now whole and bearing no visible signs of repair
It then appeared in a come-back episode of ‘Challenge Anneka’ where the team created a pocket garden and seating area, almost on the site where the cross had been originally discovered. Great excitement had been raised among the railway’s supporters at the thought of a helicopter flight up Cwm Swllt which should have resulted in fantastic aerial footage of the railway as it wound its way up to Rhyd. Unfortunately the camera had been pointing the other way resulting in a twenty minute film of the Rice-bottom clad in a bright blue jump-suit – leaving all but Teddy Titmus very disappointed.
Anyway, now the restored Croes Y Manod stands proudly in its newly created home alongside Moelwyn Mill, in a place of peace and tranquillity, where local people sit and chat in a quiet, disturbed only by the occasional rumbling of trains over the embankment high above their heads. Where Mrs Pritchard-Morgan would sit for hours remembering her days of youth, when Sospan’s dad had once kissed her on the Double Fairlies when she wasn’t looking and then never kissed he again although she was looking all the time.
Anyway, now the restored Croes Y Manod stands proudly in its newly created home alongside Moelwyn Mill, in a place of peace and tranquillity, where local people sit and chat in a quiet, disturbed only by the occasional rumbling of trains over the embankment high above their heads. Where Mrs Pritchard-Morgan would sit for hours remembering her days of youth, when Sospan’s dad had once kissed her on the Double Fairlies when she wasn’t looking and then never kissed he again although she was looking all the time.
The Beer Train - with apologies to Purple Moose!
The DeWinton Arms
North of Dinas Manod the mountains come together and the road climbs and curves its way up, over and through the fearsome Pass y Manod (or Manod Pass for the Cymrophobes!) Pass Y Manod is rightly famous, or infamous), as a formidable obstacle in fair weather or foul and it has the distinction of being well ahead of both the Crimea and Horseshoe Passes in the number of days closed due to snow or high winds. It is often said that the well-known Ffestiniog Toy Railway Poster shows Pass y Manod with the FR train super-imposed with artistic license.
North of Dinas Manod the mountains come together and the road climbs and curves its way up, over and through the fearsome Pass y Manod (or Manod Pass for the Cymrophobes!) Pass Y Manod is rightly famous, or infamous), as a formidable obstacle in fair weather or foul and it has the distinction of being well ahead of both the Crimea and Horseshoe Passes in the number of days closed due to snow or high winds. It is often said that the well-known Ffestiniog Toy Railway Poster shows Pass y Manod with the FR train super-imposed with artistic license.
The Pass, however, makes for the shortest route to London and Manod (as it was then known) was an overnight stop for travellers. With the advent of regular mail coaches it soon became obvious that something more than a way-side inn was needed, one that could hold up to a week’s worth of passengers and horses in the worst depths of winter.
The current building dates from the mid-16th Century; the coach house and stables were accessed from the rear with the guests’ rooms at the front and having spectacular views down Cwm Swllt to the distant expanse of the Vale of Ffestiniog.
As would be expected of a building of this age it has undergone many changes. The only one of historical note was when their washing machine (one of the first in Wales) was being moved to the new (for 1847) laundry room. The washing machine was a big single cylinder contraption, heated by a vertical boiler and with a water tank at one end. It was mounted on a four-wheel trolley; as it was being pushed across the yard control was lost - but the sight inspired the then grandson to start experimenting. The result – the well known locomotive from the family’s iron foundry in Caernarvon!
The current building dates from the mid-16th Century; the coach house and stables were accessed from the rear with the guests’ rooms at the front and having spectacular views down Cwm Swllt to the distant expanse of the Vale of Ffestiniog.
As would be expected of a building of this age it has undergone many changes. The only one of historical note was when their washing machine (one of the first in Wales) was being moved to the new (for 1847) laundry room. The washing machine was a big single cylinder contraption, heated by a vertical boiler and with a water tank at one end. It was mounted on a four-wheel trolley; as it was being pushed across the yard control was lost - but the sight inspired the then grandson to start experimenting. The result – the well known locomotive from the family’s iron foundry in Caernarvon!
Real News - (Set in an imaginary time when Trumpton as Gaurdian of the Free World was facing down a Nuclear Power to one side of the Sea of Japan)
Sospan’s Dad achieved a certain noteriaty during the President Trump era. It all started with Sospan’s dad’s tea and sandwich stall on Dinas Manod Station. He was looking for an event to launch his new enterprise and, in preparation, decided to trial a test lunch. Unfortunately, Willy Caxton, the local printer, misunderstood and printed 1,000 leaflets proclaiming there would be a test launch.
The CICIA, the ‘Company’ that took over Old MacDonald’s Farm after EIEIO went into liquidation, sent one of the leaflets to Trumpton. He twittered that
“If the test launch goes ahead we will destroy you bigly.”
Sospan’s dad did not help matters by twittering back
“You do and I’ll go ballistic.”
Matters between Trumpton and the Welsh People’s Republic of Rhyd got steadily worse with Trumpton twittering
“No Welsh morsels will be allowed to touch American soil.”
And then they introduced a 220% tariff on ‘Oggies’ (Welsh Lamb Pasties). In his view ‘nothing tastes better than Old MacDonald’s’.
Unfortunately, all “Oggies” in the US were confiscated by the FBFBI (Forbidden British Food and Baked Indulgences) before sanctions were actually lifted.
To male matters even worse, Trumpton’s fury at footballers kneeling in protest during the singing of their National Anthem, was inflamed at the Arms Park at the sight of 80,000 Welshmen kneeling in prayer as their final attempt at World domination crashed and burned under Irish sneaky tactic of being better prepared with more skilful players. Leaving Welsh hopes, like their Oggies, as a lost cause..
Sospan’s Dad achieved a certain noteriaty during the President Trump era. It all started with Sospan’s dad’s tea and sandwich stall on Dinas Manod Station. He was looking for an event to launch his new enterprise and, in preparation, decided to trial a test lunch. Unfortunately, Willy Caxton, the local printer, misunderstood and printed 1,000 leaflets proclaiming there would be a test launch.
The CICIA, the ‘Company’ that took over Old MacDonald’s Farm after EIEIO went into liquidation, sent one of the leaflets to Trumpton. He twittered that
“If the test launch goes ahead we will destroy you bigly.”
Sospan’s dad did not help matters by twittering back
“You do and I’ll go ballistic.”
Matters between Trumpton and the Welsh People’s Republic of Rhyd got steadily worse with Trumpton twittering
“No Welsh morsels will be allowed to touch American soil.”
And then they introduced a 220% tariff on ‘Oggies’ (Welsh Lamb Pasties). In his view ‘nothing tastes better than Old MacDonald’s’.
Unfortunately, all “Oggies” in the US were confiscated by the FBFBI (Forbidden British Food and Baked Indulgences) before sanctions were actually lifted.
To male matters even worse, Trumpton’s fury at footballers kneeling in protest during the singing of their National Anthem, was inflamed at the Arms Park at the sight of 80,000 Welshmen kneeling in prayer as their final attempt at World domination crashed and burned under Irish sneaky tactic of being better prepared with more skilful players. Leaving Welsh hopes, like their Oggies, as a lost cause..
Norma-Jean
You may have noticed the young lady on the footbridge . You may even have thought it was Marilyn Munroe. It isn't. It's Norma-Jean Baker and her boyriend is the driver of Prince, and a well-known local Bard, Eldon John. He even wrote her a song, you may have heard of it, "Camiknickers in the Wind"
You may have noticed the young lady on the footbridge . You may even have thought it was Marilyn Munroe. It isn't. It's Norma-Jean Baker and her boyriend is the driver of Prince, and a well-known local Bard, Eldon John. He even wrote her a song, you may have heard of it, "Camiknickers in the Wind"
Night manoeuvres
George’s implied warning about overnight miscreants reminded me that Sospan and Boyyo recently went ‘out on the raz’ in Port. They started in Spooner’s Bar, then on to Y Llong before contriving to get themselves locked in the Rugby Club.
When the steward finally tracked down the source of the raucus singing and ejected them it was well past the last train, and the last bus, and the taxis didn’t start running for another six years. there!”
George’s implied warning about overnight miscreants reminded me that Sospan and Boyyo recently went ‘out on the raz’ in Port. They started in Spooner’s Bar, then on to Y Llong before contriving to get themselves locked in the Rugby Club.
When the steward finally tracked down the source of the raucus singing and ejected them it was well past the last train, and the last bus, and the taxis didn’t start running for another six years. there!”
Sospan, the brains of the pair, decided that the only way to get home was to steal a bus. So off they went to the bus garage. Sospan decided that he would keep watch while Boyyo broke in and stole a bus. For nearly half-an-hour he kept watch; hearing buses starting, stopping, moving and braking until finally the doors opened and Boyyo emerged at the wheel of an old Morris.
When Sospan asked him what all the noise had been about, Boyyo replied that the Rhyd bus had been right at the back of the garage.
“You silly b*ggar,” retorted Sospan, “why didn’t you steal the Dinas Manod bus – we could have walked from there!”
When Sospan asked him what all the noise had been about, Boyyo replied that the Rhyd bus had been right at the back of the garage.
“You silly b*ggar,” retorted Sospan, “why didn’t you steal the Dinas Manod bus – we could have walked from there!”
New Coat
Mrs Megan Maddocks-Morgan had bought a new coat. She had bought it yesterday from Bonmarche in Bangor on a shopping trip, she had gone on the new Crossville bus service. She was pleased with her coat and had been promenading around Rhyd for a couple of hours showing off her new coat. In her mind, all the nods of greeting and acknowledgement from her friends and neighbours, were signs of admiration of the new coat.
“Good morning Mrs Maddocks-Morgan,” said the Rev Elias Jenkins breaking into her reverie. “It’s another fine morning in Rhyd.”
With her mind still on her new coat she asked distractedly. “Does my bum look big in this?”
Momentarily taken aback, Rev Jenkins replied, “Yes,” then with what he thought was a fair degree of tact he added, “but Rhyd is a very small village”.
Mrs Megan Maddocks-Morgan had bought a new coat. She had bought it yesterday from Bonmarche in Bangor on a shopping trip, she had gone on the new Crossville bus service. She was pleased with her coat and had been promenading around Rhyd for a couple of hours showing off her new coat. In her mind, all the nods of greeting and acknowledgement from her friends and neighbours, were signs of admiration of the new coat.
“Good morning Mrs Maddocks-Morgan,” said the Rev Elias Jenkins breaking into her reverie. “It’s another fine morning in Rhyd.”
With her mind still on her new coat she asked distractedly. “Does my bum look big in this?”
Momentarily taken aback, Rev Jenkins replied, “Yes,” then with what he thought was a fair degree of tact he added, “but Rhyd is a very small village”.
"I said I wanted a Fairy on the Christmas tree!"