(September 30, 11.30pm)
Off to bed shortly, but saying goodbye to September with a huge sense of loss.
If there was any chance that I was going to become self obsessed and inward looking about my personal situation, then the news that I received this afternoon was to change all of that.
On walking along Rhosberse road I had a phone call from my friend Berwyn. What he then told me took all the life out of me. ‘Arthur,’ he seemed to stumble, as he said ‘..my dad,’ he ...passed away this afternoon’. It was bloody hard to comprehend. It still is.
I had been a regular at Arthur’s since 1987 (31years). When not travelling I would have been there every weekend, often more than once.
In the early days Arthur’s house was frequented by the odd intellectual and eccentric. A kind of meeting place for the ‘village characters’.
People like Ron the Red (RA Jones, Minera), being a regular (until his untimely death on Boxing Day 1993,) especially after a few pints on a Saturday afternoon in the Royal Oak, Coedpoeth.
Some may think that the huge volume of bookcased Encyclopaedias in the parlour, that we still refer to, despite the internet being on our smart phones may have drawn the ‘intellectual types’, but the sparsely furnished home of Arthur had much more of a draw than the obvious.
Ron the Red -R.A. as some would refer to him, would often clash with Maldwyn Penymynydd if R.A. turned up on a Sunday. But, at all times Arthur would accommodate for them both. Butties all around!
‘Do you want fresh salmon Ron?’..’Slap it on thick!’ he’d reply. (Arthur used to love to tell that story, even up until the last time that I saw him, two weeks ago.) Then, there would be an endless supply of tea, but also an endless supply of booze..to those who wanted it. Obviously R.A. did!! Maldwyn did too. But, due to Penymynydd’s ferocious character, we (Glyn Davies and Hilton included) would try to wean him on to the tea. (Always the best loose leaf tea in those days too- Darjeeling of course!)
Bits of sandwich would shoot into your face as Maldwyn screamed at you, often in Welsh, in front of the open fire. ‘Cowboys!’..’Mickey mouse!’ to anyone who dared to question his words.
When Maldwyn wasn’t there, all could sample the great brewing skills of Arthur. His bitters and wines were phenomenal. A story that had always amused me about his brewing days was when Arthur got the blame off Joyce, from across the road after her husband Fred smashed up their wall cabinet having earlier gone around to sample Arthur’s home brew. Next day Fred was back. Both aware of the dire situation that yesterday’s beer sampling had caused, Fred asked ‘Duw, what was in that stuff you gave me yesterday?!’.. .’Have you got any more of it?’
Arthur never really refused anyone who asked for food, money or drink.
Ron the Red (R.A.) eventually did pay Arthur some of what he probably thought what he owed him after receiving a pay out from a ‘long lost relative’s’ will in June 1991. I was also one of the beneficiaries. Ron got £1777. What he couldn’t give away he put behind the bar of the City Arms for certain nominees (of Ron’s choice) to drink unlimitedly for a full weekend in June 1991, providing they chose Burton ale.
These were the sort of blokes we were talking about - ‘old school Coedpoeth.’ They’d give you their last!
I remember that day, Maldwyn’s mate Glyn Davies was there. (By the way, Penymynydd hadn’t made the shortlist of nominees..I wonder why??)
Glyn Davies, 60 at the time, (I was still only 21) was standing by the bar with me. I accidentally knocked his pint of free Burton, spilling maybe half a mouthful. He went ballistic! ‘It’s ok Glyn, I’ll get you another’.. ‘That’s not the point!’. God forbid if that would have happened to Maldwyn. I was lucky though, a quick rendition of ‘My little Welsh home’ always brought them around.
That same day another memory remains embedded in my mind. I was looking towards the Lead mines when Arthur quietly said ‘It’s 20 years ago this week’, we all knew, every one of us, what he was talking about. He only ever mentioned it when he had had a drink, and even then only on 2 occasions for me to know. We all knew that day in June 1991, what he was referring to.
In June 1971, Arthur lost Patricia, the only woman that he had ever loved. At 26 she was way too young. At 29, Arthur was destroyed. He had 2 boys, aged 1 and 3 - Berwyn and Denzil. He brought them up alone.
It was not only his sons that he seemed to have brought up. All the waifs and strays (me included) who were in some way desperate for help got his undivided attention.
From one of the waifs and strays perspectives I can say that great food and drink received in front of a roaring fire was a great incentive, but there was a lot more charm about the place that enticed me and others alike to 1 Heol Cadfan.
There was a huge old fashioned music centre that Arthur had from Harry Junks’ in the 1970s. I attained most of my musical education..from Classical to Jazz via this old piece of furniture.
If you had arrived at 9pm on a Sunday ‘Your hundred best tunes’ were on. Arthur would be ready with his tape recorder, ready to tape all the ‘greats’. Often he would know more about the great singers than the announcer. ..especially than Richard Baker..’Bloody Richard Baker! he’s ruined this programme!’ Arthur would know more about the recordings and their backgrounds than Richard Baker himself.
My education certainly wasn’t limited to music here. Arthur seemed to be able to quote fact for fact much of what was written in those encyclopaedias ‘in the parlour’. If at anytime I was unaware of anything, I’d always be advised to head for the bookcase in the parlour.
Along with Berwyn, we’d spend many a night until 2-3 AM discussing them over strong beer and butties.
There were none of your modern home furnishings at Arthur’s. Everything was basic, but that was the charm of the place.
After the council insisted on installing a fitted kitchen in 2017, it seemed to take something dear away from Arthur.
Those previous 46 years spent there, although not what many people would aspire to, had at times their own kind of paradise, despite the obvious heartache.
Of the 31 years that I made the corner house of Heol Cadfan part of my life, I witnessed a paradise there that not many people have the privilege to experience.
I loved those nights looking into the flames, discussing anything without bounds, whilst eating a cheese and apple butty.
I know Arthur loved it too.
Tonight my thoughts are with both Denzil and Berwyn
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