Some Welsh names just sound made up. Fireman Sam came from a fictional town called Pontypandy and Pontyberry is another pretend place in a Welsh TV show that I have never seen - 'Stella'.
Pontypool.
A real place. One i've heard of but had no reason to visit until I learned of a 1940's weekend taking place there. I'm in the middle of making a bit of a documentary and thought i'd use the event to get a few establishing shots and also to have a look around.
Short promo I put together for the event, using some excess footage.
I followed the Sat Nav directions bluntly delivered by my iPhone and arrived in the middle of nowhere. I've never been to a 1940's weekend before. Events I had visited before this had more of a general theme of war rather than a particular time frame.
I parked my car and walked up to where I saw the tip of a US flag waving for my attention. Underneath that was a small field with camped reenactors either side. Just before I got to that part was the small railway station building where people shuffled into, escaping from the crappy weather. I followed suit.
In here was the canteen. It was great. Straight out of the Forties. Familiar WW2 songs play out of some speakers to a room full of tea-drinking humans in period dress. This is what Gary Sparrow must have felt like.* The real deal.
Just beyond that the steam train was parked at the platform. Allied soldiers patrolling, eyeing up people like me. It was a real treat to see a steam train up that close and fully operational. There was a small cost to travel which I hadn't accommodated for. I'm a student and there is zero allowance for steam trains in my monthly budget. Next time.
Steam.
I had a quick look around and attempted to spot the organiser, Andy. I had no idea what he looked like so went off a few generic descriptions I had from people I had asked. I sat in the canteen and bought a cream tea from the dickie bowed guy behind the counter. Thankfully my modern tender was accepted and I started throwing it down my face.
Great Forties vibes in the canteen.
I spotted who I thought was Andy. He was a understandably busy guy and we parted ways after a brief chat during which he pushed a complimentary train ticket into my hand. What a hero. I get ride on the train.The train ride was great. The local Bobby onboard asked for my papers and the British soldier referred to my camera gear as spy equipment. A nice touch that I appreciated.
The reenactors were great and the most approachable i'd ever met at anything like this. I met two guys (Nick & Richard) who I interviewed for my film and they let me have a look at the impressive stockpile of weapons (Below).
Nick & Richard
The entire event was full of nice little touches. The thing I loved most about the event was the intimacy of it. It was free to get in, there were no overpriced options, no one was there with the sole purpose to make money. It is run by people who are passionate about the era and attended by those who share that passion. I can't remember the last time I attended anything where the only intention was to share an interest without charging six quid for a cup of tea.
Mock-Up of a downed German plane
Big thanks to Andy Knock for the train ticket and allowing me to film at the event.
The other day I overheard some old guys talking about upcoming Remembrance Sunday where they briefly mentioned how the city was bombed during the war. I always knew that this was a thing as the Germans bombed the port here which shipped out coal and whatever resources that fed the war.
A couple of stray bombs hit the suburbs surrounding the ports so I decided to look online to dig out some pictures of the aftermath and attempt to find the areas today.
Grangetown.
Every city has that one area which is filled with horror stories and bad people. Grangetown is Cardiff's answer to The Bronx, or so i'm told. Seeing that this area was the worst hit by these stray bombs, I decided to go against everyones advice and walk there to find these sites that were hit.
Believing everyone who said that I was going to be robbed, I didn't bother taking my posh camera but settled with just my posh phone instead. With a haircut that questions my sexuality as well as my nationality and my bright coloured coat, I was a bit nervous. I felt like that odd jigsaw piece that you always find in the 'Monopoly' box.
I knew the name of the two streets I was after and awkwardly went into corners to consult Google Maps.
January 2nd, 1941.
Hollymans Bakery, Stockland Street.
An affluent family run business with a cellar which was used as an air raid shelter which when the sirens used to sound to warn of enemy aircraft above, the family used to invite anyone in off the street who was looking for refuge.
Hollymans Bakery, now a hardware store.
The building took a direct hit and the bomb hit the cellar directly. 32 people were killed.
Memorial plaque on the building.
Not far from the bakery, at the corner of Ferry Road is a street that has hardly changed since 1941, apart from the obvious modernisation and repair to the bombed structure. I understand this to have been a residence at the time. Seven people were killed.
1941
2015
So I appear to be a survivor of the dreaded Grangetown. No bother from anyone but the cops who asked me what I was doing as I was awkwardly trying to take pictures with my phone whilst attempting to hide it at the same time.
I've never seen this picture before and came across it completely by accident after a documentary wrongly used it to portray occupied France. I immediately recognised it as the City Hall in Cardiff, the city where I live.
1938.
Sudetenland, the German speaking/populated portions of Czechoslovakia started to demand a union with Hitler's Germany. The Czech's refused due to the tactical importance of the land and Hitler threatened war. In 1938 and without consulting Czechoslovakia, Britain and France agreed to hand it over to Germany. This was looked at as an act of peace and Chamberlain (British Prime Minister) waved around a piece of paper which Hitler had written a promise not to go to war. This was the Munich Agreement. At that time, Britain was not ready for war or able to help out Czechoslovakia if Germany attacked, so giving in to Hitler seemed to be the most sensible option.
Sudetenland was handed over.
TIME Magazine declared Hitler as 'Man of the Year in 1938'. Many people admired him for turning around Germany in a time where the depression was still affecting the country. He was not seen as the evil guy that he is today.
To show his support of the agreement, Lord Mayor Purnell of Cardiff, erected the four flags of the nations involved in the agreement, over City's Hall. This included the Swastika. The flag wasn't largely associated with evil at the time.
Cardiff City Hall today.
Within 24 hours, two men from the labour party took it down but it was soon replaced.
Myself in front of City Hall a few years ago. The only picture I could find with it, which I lifted off Instagram.
Six months later, Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia and the Munich Agreement was void. Britain said it would defend Poland if Hitler invaded. The war had begun.
Early last year (2014), I caught the end of a story on a BBC Wales News segment. News I never watch with any interest as not a lot happens in Wales. It's either rugby related or one of the Royals has gone to another obscure and unpronounceable village to feign an interest in the worlds largest Welsh cake.
Out of nowhere, I heard the words Hermann Goering and Cardiff. In the same sentence.
Goering, Hitler's Deputy and head of the Luftwaffe. He liked art. He had an impressive private collection. He took interest in a 16th Century Welsh Noblewoman, Catrin of Berain. The portrait was hung for centuries in family homes in North Wales but made it's way to Berlin and Goering in 1940.
In 1938, the owners decided to sell the painting and contacted a dealer in London. Somewhere along the line, it was offered to the National Museum of Wales but that transaction failed to happen. The London dealer had connections with the art market in Amsterdam and the painting was eventually bought by Walter Andreas Hofer, the advisor on art to Hermann Goering.
The painting became part of Hermann Goering's private collection.
Eventually, the art was rescued by a team which protect cultural treasures from damage during the war. A film called 'Monuments Men' (2014) was based on these guys.
The painting eventually found it's way into the National Museum of Wales, Cardiff. I went to visit it.
The painting is so unassuming and there was no indication to its link with Goering and the Nazi party which is not surprising.
