I’d normally write something poetic about our POTM contributions. But Shaun Lowde, who sent us this fine example, says it so well that I need not engage my brain’s lyrical waxing cortex for this one.
“Taken near Tafarn Y Bwlch in the Preselis, this simple pole easily outperforms the sunset behind it for raw beauty! This pole is near where I live at the end of a long line of poles (it’s number 6 I think). It is situated very close to what is thought to be the original site of the inner circle of stones that are now at Stonehenge. So, a lovely pointy up thing next to a place where some other pointy up things used to be (but aren’t anymore).“
Newport is in Wales. Just. It’s in Wales about as much as Berwick upon Tweed is in England. So close to “them” that “they” may as well have it. I am of the previously unshared opinion that the rest of wales is quietly ambivalent about ownership of this particular corner.
What do I know about Newport?
Well, I became intimate with the roundabout beneath junction 24 of the M4 during a stalled hitch-hike home back in my army days – specifically where the A449 branches north; the fans of Newport County football club could be friendlier (one savage purple-jumper wearing Newport fan has stayed long in the memory of my home town’s fans); AND nobody ever chose Newport as a holiday destination – except when confusing it with Newport, Pembs.
So, given the feeling in the rest of Cymru it was with some trepidation that long-term correspondent to these pages MartYn Fielder (a son of Abergavenny) had to visit the town with his mother for a medical appointment. He need not have worried. It was while waiting for the NHS to do its thing that MartYn followed his Indiana Jones urges and explored an old railway track bed in Malpas just to the north of the town. I’ll let his words describe his adventure:
“I came across the noble form of an old pole, forlorn in the splendour of its decaying grandeur. The pole is incredibly pock-marked, as though it’s been attacked by giant woodworm, and there are no identifying markers. It is also entirely alone – having walked all the way to the point where the old railway has been obliterated by the link road between the A4042 and the A4051 in one direction, and then followed it in the other direction where it has been transformed into a tarmac footpath wending its way through endless housing estates, I can confidently state that this is the only remaining telegraph pole on this stretch of the old Eastern Valley Line of the Monmouthshire Rail and Canal Company (1852) which closed in 1963. This splendid solitary specimen stands as a witness to a century of spectacular growth and slow decline in the industrial heartland of South Wales. A humbling thought.”
So there we have it. Newport, Gwent, still in Wales, has Big Mac’s Wholly Soul Band and a single old and isolated, redundant and woodpeckered multi-arm telegraph pole. The word “Yay!” comes to mind. Put Newport on my holiday list. Summer 2074 should do it.
Anyway, I looked it up recently, MartYn and I have been exchanging telegraph pole related missives for more than ten years now. He is this close ” to getting on my Christmas card list.
As I write, storm Franklin is thrashing around outside trying to outdo it’s older siblings Dudley and Eunice. The latter came through here two days ago showing 969 millibars (hectopascals) and scared the life out of me and the ridge tiles of my house. Said storm proceeded to wrestle to the ground a 250 year old lime tree in the field across the lane. That this tree has significance to us is beyond the remit of this post/page/website. The tree also fell onto a rusting dutch barn flattening what was left from a storm 3 years ago into a mangle of corrugated rust and retired and rotted telegraph poles.
Curiosity took me out there to inspect the damage. The tree was rotten mostly through and clearly wan’t long for this world anyway, wind or no wind. I was just about to retrieve a branch or two for the home hearth when I spotted a fully intact insulator lying on the top of the grass as though it had been left there just minutes before for me to find. Then I found two more, slightly more concealed. Much excited rationalising led me to conclude that they were somehow wedged into the tree as a byproduct when the poles were used to make the now planate barn. Serendipity* that Eunice should have lead me to them.
I thought of the title of this post way before I started writing anything. I felt sure that if I just kept writing I could think of some connection between someone called Jim and the happenstance of me finding some old insulators. Like you now, I realise this far into the post that it’s just not going to happen. I can’t think of any association. At all. Try as I might. But I’ve written the heading now and I’m not the sort of person to go back and change it. So cheers, to the Jims of this world. And to one in particular 😉 May you be Lucky Jim.
I came this ‘ ‘ close to deleting an email I received this week with the subject line as above. I used to receive many such messages. Often accompanied by words like dysfunction, failure, problems etc. All the while extolling the virtues of some wonder pills guaranteed to make my wife happy. It’s well known in this household that a long trawl around a garden centre is far more likely to lighten Mrs TPAS’ countenance than anything I could swallow. I think. I hope!
Anyway, I have the curiosity of a small, hungry cat called Brian, and I noticed that this particular email also had a photo attached. So it is by the skin of all our teeth that I present to you this delicious telegraph pole courtesy of Euros Jones.
Euros is not one to waste words and the photo came with the simple caption:
“Went through Aberangell last week and saw this pole being replaced.”
Aberangell is a village deep within the stunning gorgeousness of the Dovey hills, N.E. of Machynlleth. And just think what a coup it would have been had we also a photo of this old pole coming down and the new one going up as witnessed, alas uncaptured, by Euros. If I won the lottery I suppose I could always get them to re-enact it just for my not-at-all-obsessive benefit.
Anyway, I doff my cap firmly in Euros’ direction. He saw a pole being replaced and somehow managed to put his hands on the photo of it going up in the first place decades ago. I certainly couldn’t do that. And I don’t know many who could. Actually, I say I doff my cap, but truth is, the only headwear I ever wear is an Aberystwyth Town FC bobble hat. So next time I’m at the footy Euros, it’ll get doffed your way.
I’m using this post to come out… as an enthusiastic e-biker. I have managed to wean myself off “turbo” mode now, finally – which is quite something given my great age and also the landscape around here.
Yesterday morning, 3rd August, on a 20 miler in to the hinterland (y Gwyll*1) around Bethania and Trefenter, Ceredigion, I came across this gorgeous remnant.
I had climbed from home in the well of the Aeron valley to the wildness that is to be found above 1,000 feet. Where the hedgerows give way to grassy banks and rosebay is supreme. Underneath, yellow rattles to brown, harebells nod and yarrow and tormentil snatch a peek at the sun.
This is one of only two of this type remaining on the run. The rest having long since been replaced, tidied up. The “D” plate suggests these are not long for this world either. The doby marks quite worn away with the bleaching wind in this remote place: GPO / 20L / ’58 Note the pair of intact telenduron terminators not to mention the ragged fleece of lichen.
The run of poles petered out shortly afterwards – presumably at Bancyllyn farm opposite Llyn Eiddwen (the source of the river Aeron) – I wasn’t paying attention at this point though – I was much too conscious of the sonic boom I was leaving behind from my great speed at this point.
According to folklore that I either read somewhere or have just made up thinking I’ve read it somewhere Llyn Eiddwen, is one of the portals to the fairy world. The other being the bottom of our garden. I didn’t see anything remotely fairyish here mind you, but then I refer you to my previous statement about sonic booms and going really fast etc. On my e-Bike. I’ve got one you know.
