Penarth : Skytown Gateway

I’m several months late to the party but today I’d like to celebrate the fact that this year Penarth has gained a new public artwork, and, though I think it fails in its aspirations, I rather like the piece itself. 

You might, justifiably, wonder how the Vale of Glamorgan Council managed to fund something like this given the financial challenges of the current global pandemic. In fact, this was part of the development deal, the obligations negotiated under the Section 106 agreement, when Council granted planning permission for the Penarth Heights housing development. 

The Skytown Gateway sits above the central entrance to Dingle Park, on Windsor Road in Penarth. According to the Council’s website, the park’s ‘entrances and boundary railings were considered to be unsightly’ so were ‘identified as requiring an upgrade in order to provide a visually impressive, exciting and high quality gateway into the town.’ A well-meaning sentiment perhaps, and the railings do look much better since they’ve been refurbished, but neither the lower nor upper entrances to the park have changed at all and they are, in fact, the entrances that get most use. And, though I do think the gateway artwork is impressive, its effect as a town rather than a park gateway is lost by its position immediately adjacent to a roundabout, which drivers of passing traffic are, hopefully, concentrating on negotiating rather than glancing around at the scenery. Also, as there is nowhere nearby to park, visitors to the town are unlikely to stop to admire the artwork, so as a ‘gateway into the town’, it fails. 

As a ‘visually impressive’ gateway, though, I think it’s a winner, and the makers, a company called Cod Steaks from Bristol, have done a great job of capturing the character of the town. The Council website page about the Skytown Gateway project includes a link to a report from Cod Steaks on their creation process, including consultations with the local community and workshops with local school children to develop the ideas behind the finished artwork. It’s interesting to note that their workshops initially focused on the local flora and fauna, as you might expect from a gateway to a park, but the end product refers only to the built heritage of the town with no reference at all to the natural environment, a missed opportunity but presumably a deliberate decision by the Council. 

As you can see in my photographs, the gateway includes references to many well-known local buildings and to the town’s maritime history. Residents will recognise St Augustine’s Church, the Penarth Pier Pavilion, the former public swimming baths, and the old Custom House, as well as generic terraced houses and a town house, the town clock and the lamp standards that run along the Esplanade. From the surrounding maritime landscape, there are the lighthouse on the island of Flat Holm and the Pink Shed, formerly used for yachting race officials, that sits on an arm of the Cardiff Barrage, and a tug boat. And representing local tourism and recreational facilities, the artwork includes a yacht and a caravan. 

The Cod Steaks project report notes that the artwork has been constructed from over 4000 pieces of precision-cut steel, finished with blue paint, and includes low-level LED lighting within the buildings, which must look quite lovely at night – I have yet to visit in the evenings so have no visuals of the ‘diffused, charming glow’ of the lighting effects. When I do get some photos, I’ll add one or two to this post.

Doors: Christmas wreaths

As I’ve been meandering around the local streets in recent days, I’ve been delighted to see how many people have decorated their front doors with lovely Christmas wreaths, some the more traditional arrangements of woven greenery adorned with ribbons and natural objects like cones and seedheads, others presenting a more modern take on these ancient twistings.

 

The word wreath comes from the Old English words writha, meaning ‘to writhe’, and wrīthan, meaning ‘to make into coils, plait’, which, over time, has become the circle of twisted materials we now recognise. However, the concept of a wreath goes back long before the Old English words, perhaps as far as our pagan ancestors, though the earliest historical references come from Ancient Greece. Green crowns of laurel feature in Greek mythology and, in both Ancient Greece and Rome, wreaths of laurel, oak, olive and other leaves were awarded to the heroic and to victors in athletic contests and in battle, as well as being worn by priests officiating at sacrifices and by brides during their weddings.

 

The idea of a Christmas wreath seems to have developed around the same time as that of the Christmas tree, perhaps as a way to make use of the excess trimmings of those trees. The tradition of having a Christmas tree in the house is believed to have originated with the Germans in the sixteenth century and to have been introduced to Britain by Prince Albert after his marriage to Queen Victoria in 1840, though at least one historian disputes that account. Alison Barnes writes on the History Today website that it was ‘“good Queen Charlotte”, the German wife of George III, who set up the first known English tree at Queen’s Lodge, Windsor, in December, 1800.’ (Barnes’s article also gives more information about the first German Christmas trees.) 

 

Returning to the Christmas wreath, its circular shape is thought to have a Christian meaning, the never-ending circle a  symbol of eternal life (though it’s also an easy shape to create and to hang). And the use of evergreen foliage is thought to have been equally important, symbolic also of immortality and, during the harshest days of winter, of hope for the spring to come.

 

Whatever the meaning we each choose to attribute to the Christmas wreath, there can be no doubt that they are an important, often colourful, always welcoming addition to our doorways during the festive season and, in these dark, depressing and devastating days of global pandemic, they are a feast for the eyes and a welcome source of good cheer.

It’s a sign: Covid-19

I count myself extremely fortunate this year not to have contracted the coronavirus, and feel nothing but sincere sympathy for the millions who are currently having to cope with illness, the grief of losing a loved one, the anxiety of employment uncertainty, the despair of this ongoing global pandemic. 

Here in Wales, we have been living with lockdowns and restrictions of various types since mid March, and there is as yet no end in sight – in fact, as I write this, our infection, hospitalisation and death rates are all increasing again, and it’s quite likely that we will go in to another full lockdown immediately after Christmas.

 

Signage is everywhere, warning of the dangers of infection and stressing the need to wear a mask, wash your hands or use sanitizer when entering shops, and observe the 2-metres-apart social distancing rules. 

This post includes a few of the latter type of signage I’ve encountered while out on my solo, always distanced, daily exercise walks, and you’ll note that the instructions are in both English and Welsh.

Cardiff : an assortment of benches

We’ve all been discouraged from sitting on benches during the lockdown but, when this pandemic is finally over (or at least controlled to the point where we are able to resume some semblance of normal life), these lovely benches will be there for the good folks of Cardiff and its visitors to rest their weary legs while out walking.

The aptly named Ship in a bottle bench was installed at the top of the meadow overlooking Cardiff Bay Wetland Reserve in 2004. This bottle bench is the work of artist Melissa Gibbs who, according to her profile on London’s Artist Quarter website, is ‘a professional artist and art tutor living and working in London’. Gibbs makes ‘sculpture and installations for public and private commissions and exhibitions’.

World-renowned author Roald Dahl was born in Cardiff in 1916 so it’s probably not surprising that Cardiff likes to celebrate its famous son in diverse ways in various locations around the city. Cardiff Bay already had Roald Dahl Plas (Square) when, in August 2016, as part of the Roald Dahl centenary celebrations, a 10-metre-long crocodile sculpture became the latest addition to the Dahl memorabilia.

The Croc in the Dock sculpture, located near the Sails on the Barrage, was based on the character in the book The Enormous Crocodile. It is supposed to be a bench but it’s really too low for comfort so it’s become a fun sculpture for kids to clamber on. 

And that is probably why there is now an actual bench right next to the crocodile. Appropriately enough, the bench is shaped like a book, the back of the bench is painted with the book's front cover illustration, and it too is named The Enormous Crocodile.

If you choose to walk from Cardiff Bay back in to the city along the Taff Trail, then you might rest your sore feet awhile (but not during lockdown) with a seat on one of four similar wrought-iron benches positioned alongside the River Taff. I haven’t been able to uncover any information about their creator but I quite like the paddle steamer and lighthouse that have been incorporated into the design.

Under my feet : utility cover plates

During my lockdown exercise walks, as I seek to avoid other people’s germs wafting in my face, I’ve been spending a little more time than usual looking down and, in the process, especially during urban walks, I’ve been taking more notice of these ...

Now, I’m not entirely sure what to call them: utility cover plates? manhole covers (though not all are man-sized)? utility access points? inspection chamber covers? drain covers? drainage grates? 

I see many of those I have photographed have the word ‘ductile’ on their surfaces so has the industry that manufactures these cover plates adopted this word to identify their products? If so, it has done this in error as ductile is an adjective describing the pliability of metal. Perhaps they have conflated the two words ‘duct' and 'tile’?

I suppose these plates can actually have a variety of names, depending on their functions and whether they relate to storm water or other water drainage, sewers, electricity, gas or telecommunications. I have lumped together a wide variety of those I have found in this blog but, if I were to attempt a more detailed examination, I would need to separate them out in to their respective functions. I’m not sure I’m quite that motivated by these items but I am very impressed with some of their designs.

If you’re interested in learning more about these covers, Wikipedia has an interesting article. 

Clocks : Penarth

It’s time for more time pieces, this time my local clocks here in Penarth, south Wales.

Town Clock

First up is our official Town Clock. Located in the centre of a busy roundabout at the junction of Penarth’s main street and four other roads, this four-faced clock was designed to coordinate with the Victorian architecture for which Penarth is well known (the town rose to fame as a seaside escape for busy Cardiffians during the Victorian era). 

The clock, manufactured by renowned clockmakers J. B. Joyce & Co of Shropshire, was presented to Penarth by the local Rotary Club to celebrate the 50th anniversary of their local presence in 1987.

However, the current clock is not that clock. After ticking away for 20 years or so, the original clock started to lose time, showed different times on its different faces, and developed a degree of unreliability that locals found irksome. 

Apparently, the local water company stepped up to fund the purchase of a replacement town clock, which looks exactly the same as the old one and which was installed on Sunday 4 November 2018.

But what became of the old clock? Well, imagine my surprise when, just a couple of days after I had read the details of this replacement, my daily walk took me past Penarth Cemetery and there, plonked on the tarmac next to the old chapel buildings, was the clock. I have no idea what its long-term fate will be but the cemetery chapel is due to be renovated shortly so perhaps the old clock is being incorporated in that renovation in some manner.

Old Town Clock on the left, new on the right

Pier Pavilion clock

This is another tale of clocks being replaced. The original round Art Deco clock on the front of Penarth’s pier pavilion was presented to the District Council, in 1929, by a Mrs Esther Harris, partly in memory of her husband Hyman, who had long run a pawnbroker’s business in the town, and also in memory of her son Stewart, known as Solly, who was a casualty of the First World War. Private Stewart Ernest Harris, 8th Battalion, South Staffordshire Regiment, was killed at Ypres on 26 August 1915, aged just 22.

The new, square clock was installed when the pier pavilion was refurbished in 2013, thanks to the generosity of locals Paul and Geraldine Twamley. This clock, which also has a pleasing Art Deco look, in keeping with the design of the pavilion, was made by Smith of Derby, clockmakers to the nation since 1856.

Public Library clock  

Penarth’s Public Library is a handsome building, built mainly of Pennant stone with Bath stone dressings, and it boasts the striking addition of a clock tower.

According to an article in The Cardiff Times, Saturday 17 September 1904, which was reporting the occasion of the laying of the foundation stone for the new public library (on 10 September), the District Council had ‘already voted a sum of money to provide a handsome tower clock in the tower, and Mr Robert Forrest has also generously expressed his intention of providing the necessary bell and striking apparatus.’ When the library opened on 30 August 1905, The Cardiff Times again reported the event (on 2 September 1905), including confirmation that Mr Robert Forrest had indeed ‘generously contributed £100 towards the cost of the clock in the tower.’

If you’re particularly fascinated by this clock, you can watch a very short video of it on YouTube, including its chiming of the hour. Prior to moving to Penarth, I looked at buying a flat in an old building opposite Penarth Library. The flat was nice, if small, and had a peep-of-the-sea view but I’m now very glad I didn’t buy it because I think the sound of the library clock striking not only every hour of every day, but also every quarter hour, might well have become very annoying.

Llandough : the Irbic cross

In my last post, about St Dochdwy’s Church in Llandough, I mentioned that I had found something particularly stunning in the churchyard and this is it, the so-called Irbic cross.

Made of Sutton stone, an Early Jurassic limestone found only in south Wales, the cross has a width of about 0.7 metres (2 feet 3 inches) and stands approximately 3 metres (a fraction under 10 feet) tall, though it is missing its top portion, the cross head, so would originally have been taller. The church website describes it as ‘consisting of an uppermost square shaft, with bold roll mouldings at the four corners, supported on a pedestal resembling a column, with the capital and base each formed from a separate stone.’  

This incredible structure is thought to date from the 10th or 11th century. Its precise origins are not known but there has, of course, been much speculation. The name ‘Irbic cross’ comes from an inscription, IRBICI, on the front face of the cross. These letters apparently mean ‘the stone of Irbic’ but who was this Irbic?

In his 1982 book Mysterious Wales, Chris Barber writes:

Llandough, near Cardiff, was once an important centre of Christian influence when St Dochau established a monastic community here, known as Bangor Dochau, in the fifth century. He was also known as Cyngar and was the son of Geraint. His brothers were Iestyn, Selyf, Caw and Cadwy. Their grandfather was Erbin and it was probably to his memory that this splendid cross of Irbic was erected.

Other sources I have located tell a similar story. Certainly, this Erbin (or Erbic) must have been a particularly important and noteworthy person to have earned such an impressive monument to his memory.

As well as the inscription, the cross is covered in fine decoration, as you can see in these photos. The base has a carving of a man on horseback on its front face and human heads on each side, and the shafts are covered with intricate, interlacing Celtic patterns.

The St Dochdwy’s Church website proudly boasts that the Irbic cross ‘is unique in design, being quite different from that of any other cross in Britain’. It is certainly a very fine ancient monument, and is well worth a visit if you happen to be in this vicinity.

Llandough : St Dochdwy's Church

I noticed this church long before I got around to visiting it. That’s because its location, high on a hill overlooking the city of Cardiff, means its distinctive tower is visible from quite a distance, and it was my curiosity about that tower which prompted my visit.

The tower, and its church, St Dochdwy's, are in Llandough, a small hamlet that has been a holy place for a very long time – the clue is in its name: in Welsh, Llan is church and dough is from dochau, as in Saint Dochau/Dochdwy. The St Dochdwy's Church website dates the earliest Christian worship here to the 5th and 6th centuries, and notes that the ‘first permanent church building was erected in the 12th century’.

I was even more impressed with this tower when a bat came flying out of that side window, in broad daylight!

Amazingly, that first building continued in use until the 19th century when not one, but two new churches were built on the site. The first was built around 1820 but, just 40 years later, was found to be too small for the congregation so was deconstructed, moved and rebuilt, stone by stone, in the nearby village of Leckwith. The present church, with its notable saddle-back bell tower, was consecrated in 1866. David Jones of Penarth was in charge of construction, and its design was executed by Samuel Charles Fripp, an architect from Bristol.

I haven’t been inside St Dochdwy's, as, like so many churches these days, it is locked when not in use, but I did enjoy a good wander around the outside of the building and explored the graveyard that surrounds it. In the entry for the church on the Coflein website (Coflein is the online database for the National Monuments Record of Wales), the exterior of the building is described as having ‘snecked rubble facings with slate roofs and freestone dressings.’ (If you’re not familiar with the term ‘snecked rubble’, as I wasn’t, it means masonry that has a mixture of squared stones of different sizes, as you can see in the photo above.)

As I have a fondness for ornate ironwork door hinges, I was quite taken with the examples on the main entrance door. And, during my circuit of the building, I discovered the narrowest church door I’ve ever seen – I’m not sure what its purpose would have been but it would certainly have encouraged any who needed to use it to stay lean.

To be honest, I found the church building rather underwhelming compared to its impressive tower, but there is one item in the churchyard which is particularly stunning and which warrants a blog post all of its own. That will follow very soon.

Cardiff : the Thompson’s Park stones

If you go down to Thompson’s Park today (only as part of your exercise walk, of course), you might be puzzled, as I was, by the many strange stones poking up amongst the grass and wildflowers on the park’s verdant slopes. I had hoped to return to get photos of the many other stones to be found around the park, but the corona virus lockdown means I can no longer access this park, so the stones pictured here are just a taster of what can be found with a little searching.

The land that is now known as Thompson’s Park was once owned by Charles Thompson, a senior partner in the well known Cardiff milling company, Spillers, and Thompson’s house, Preswylfa, once adjoined the park on the eastern side (the house was demolished in the late 1990s and the site is now occupied by a modern housing development).  

The land adjoining Preswylfa was then known as Sir David’s Field (in Welsh, Cae Syr Dafydd), and Thompson opened up this property to the public in 1891. Later, in 1912, he gifted the park to Cardiff City Council, and the stones we see today relate to that transfer of land from Thompson to the Council.

The stones, all of which have Roman numerals inscribed on their sides, were boundary markers. Originally, there were 17 such stones but only 10 are now visible, and one of those has been turned on its side, so its number can no longer be read.

When I last visited Thompson’s Park, in February, I only found four stones but it was a cold day with intermittent hail showers so I didn’t explore far. During my subsequent research to uncover the story behind the stones, I discovered the excellent information on the Cardiff Parks website, which also includes a map of the locations of the additional stones. When I am finally able to return to this lovely Cardiff park, I will try to find all the other stones and will add their photos to this post.

Cardiff : St Mary’s Church

Even in the short time I have been in Wales – not yet five years, I have seen massive change in Cardiff and not, in my opinion, for the better. Rather than valuing the city’s history with projects that conserve and restore life to the heritage buildings, the city council seems intent on letting developers swamp Cardiff’s lovely old buildings with tall and ugly tower blocks. And don’t even get me started on the (surely now) outdated trend of façadism – there are at least two such construction projects underway in the central city as I write this – such lazy architectural design!

The reason for today’s rant is that I almost missed seeing what remains of St Mary’s Church because of yet another inner city construction project. The church itself is long gone – and I do mean long – due to the severe damage it suffered in the Great Flood of 1607, the church was abandoned in 1701. But the ghost of the church remains as an outline of pale stones on the side of the building that now stands where it once stood.

John Speed's 1610 map of Cardiff, Wikimedia Commons;
St Mary's is at bottom right

St Mary’s began life as a Benedictine priory way back in 1107, but its riverside location (prior to the River Taff being diverted in 1850) meant it was always susceptible to flooding and, apparently, bodies were frequently washed out of its graveyard.

In 1878, the site of St Mary’s was used for the construction of a theatre, the NewTheatre Royal, but that once grand building has seen many subsequent reincarnations, even for a time being a cinema showing pornographic films – I can’t imagine what the Benedictines would have thought of that. The building is currently a Wetherspoon’s pub, the Prince of Wales.    

I don’t know how visible the outline of St Mary’s will be once the current construction project, part of the Central Square development, is finished but, if the wide expanses of bland concrete underfoot and the wind-tunnel-creating skyscrapers overhead are anything to go by, I doubt the developers would have even considered a nod to Cardiff’s historic past, so I’m glad I managed to pay homage to the old St Mary’s Church before it disappears.

Penarth : hinges

I’ve been known to admire a hinge or two. In fact, I have a rather impressive collection of photos of hinges, but not just any hinges – these are the ironwork masterpieces found on doors, mostly church doors, but also the doors of elegant public buildings, large manor houses, castles even. I’ve recently been trawling around the public buildings in Penarth – mostly churches, or former churches now converted to apartments – and have found these divine examples of the blacksmiths’ art. 

St Augustine’s Church: These are three of the doors into St Augustine’s Church – there are a couple of others, less imposing. Completed in 1866, St Augustine’s is a Grade I listed building, so you would expect its doors, its hinges to be grand, and they don’t disappoint.

 

Holy Nativity Church: The front door of this late-nineteenth church is sheltered within a porch, which is not accessible due to a locked full-height gate, so I nabbed this plain hinge from the back door – still interesting.

Plassey Street Gospel Hall: This Plymouth Brethren Chapel was built in the Arts and Crafts style in 1877. Perhaps that’s why the ends of these hinges look floral.

St Joseph’s Catholic Church: The current St Joseph’s, completed in 1915, is not the first of that name in Penarth – a combined school and chapel were completed in 1877, but that earlier building is currently a construction site. The hinges on this later building are magnificent.

Trinity Methodist Church: Several doors give access to the church, though these, perhaps the oldest, are the only ones with nice ironwork. Opened in 1901, this Victorian Gothic church replaced an earlier iron church. Once again, we have superb examples of the blacksmiths' art.

Stanwell Road Baptist Church: The church itself has a very impressive frontage with two large doors, but neither has ironwork hinges. However, around the corner, the church hall does have hinged doors, though the hinges are quite modest.

As has frequently happened since church attendance began to decline, some Penarth churches have been deconsecrated and converted into living accommodation. One is currently in the middle of that process, though only its façade has been retained and it is not currently visible.

Albert Road Methodist Church is still housed in a small area at the back of the former church building but its door is nondescript. The original church’s doors now open into large, exclusive apartments.