John Hancock, Royal Field Artillery, Cwmffrwdoer

Back in 2014 I published a book called 'Tell Them of Us', detailing my ancestors involvement in the First World War.  One of the chapters concerned my great grandfather John Hancock of 42 Plasycoed Rd, Cwmffrwdoer who had won a Military Medal for bravery in 1917.  However his service records didn't give any information as to why he was awarded the Military Medal but recently further information has come to light, this was published in a local newspaper.

Driver J Hancock MM

The gratifying news was received by his wife on Saturday morning

that Driver J H Hancock, 29953, Div. Ammunition Column, RFA, was awarded the Military Medal

for 'gallant conduct and devotion to duty in the field on

October 7th 1917 near St Julien', a report of which from his

Regimental and Brigade Commanders was read 'with great pleasure', by

Major General R P Lee, commanding the division according

to the parchment certificate to hand.  Going up the line the truck was blown up and 

Driver Hancock, by means of a pontoon bridge got his horses

and mules safely over.  Driver Hancock who is 32 years of age, has

a wife and four children  residing at 42 Plasycoed Rd, Cwmffrwdoer, and so far as is known

he is the first one at Cwmffrwdoer to win the MM. He voluntarily joined

the army on September 2nd 1914 and 

went out to France in July 1915.  He was recommended

for distinction once before.  He was formerly a timberman's helper

at Blaenserchen Colliery and his many friends will

offer him congratulations on the official

recognition of his bravery. He was home on leave about three months ago"

The closest battle I could find prior to his being awarded the MM is the Battle of Broodseinde, part of the Third Battle of Ypres.  It commenced on 4th October 1917 when the 7th Division units attacked the Germans at 6 am.  Over the next five days they suffered 1500 casualties. 

You can read more about him in "Tell Them Of Us"

You can buy 'Tell Them of Us' from Amazon or download it to Kindle.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tell-Them-Carol-Ann-Lewis/dp/1495442802/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1428682247&sr=8-1&keywords=tell+them+of+us

The Cwmffrwdoer Inn

The Cwmffrwdoer Inn

The first landlord of the Cwmffrwdoer Inn appears to have been my 3 x Great Grandfather, Thomas Jones.  There is little mention of the inn in newspapers prior to 1872 when the  Pride of the Valley Lodge, number 110 of the Loyal Order of Alfreds, celebrated their fourth anniversary.  Their meetings were held at the home of Mr T Jones of the Cwmffrwdoer Inn and it seems to have been quite a spectacle.  A procession left the inn at eleven o clock one morning in July 1872.  A brass band of the 3rd Mon., Newport headed the procession and behind followed King Alfred and two courtiers, on horses and in full costume.  The procession headed off to their sister lodge at the Railway Inn and onward to other neighbouring lodges.

A year before this event, the 1871 census shows Thomas Jones living at no 3 Cwmffrwdoer Road with his wife Mariah.  Thomas had two occupations, that of a collier and a licensed victualler.  In 1871, he had three children, Margaret, who would marry John Lewis to become my 2 Great Grandmother, Ann and Henrietta.

Thomas and Mariah  are also recorded on the 1861 census, at this time though Thomas's occupation is just that of a coal miner.  They also have a son, William, who is not mentioned on the 1871 census at their address.

Inns at this time were not just places to drink.  They were also used to perform inquests on  dead bodies such as in this report from the Free Press in 1881.

"On Wednesday morning last, Mr E D Batt the coroner for the district  held an inquest at the Cwmffrwdoer Inn upon the body of a child, George James Hancock, a month old which had been found dead in bed on the previous Sunday morning.  The mother was called and stated that the child had been healthy from birth.  The jury returned  a verdict to the effect that the deceased had died from suffocation"

The next mention in the news for the inn is on 22 August 1890 also in the Pontypool Free Press.  Mr Evans had mentioned at the Abersychan Local Board meeting that Plasycoed Road was in a very bad state and he presented a petition signed on behalf of 24 rate payers who were also of the opinion that a horse trough was needed close to the old spout near the Cwmffrwdoer Inn.  It was decided to build the trough first and then repair the road.

By 1901 Margaret Jones had married John Lewis and they lived at the Cwmffrwdoer Inn. John died around 1904 and it is not clear at this time who took over the running of the inn.  It may have been Margaret, or one of her children.

The inn is mentioned in the papers once again on 25 August 1906
"Mark Harvey, haulier of Cwmffrwdoer was summoned for being drunk at the Cwmffrwdoer Inn.  P C Shott said that at 9.15 pm on August 11 he saw defendant asleep at the inn.  When witness put him on his feet, he fell to the ground.  Defendant, who denied being drunk, was fined 10 shillings"

 By the 1911 census both Margaret Lewis and Thomas Jones have different addresses.  Margaret is living at 18 Plasycoed Road with five of her nine children, Thomas at Glyn House, Cwmffrwdoer.  He is 82 years old and gives his employment status as a retired publican.  He also has his daughter, Annie Shearn Thomas living with him and a grandson, Thomas Shearn.


sources
Pontypool Free Press
Monmouthshire Central Advertiser
Thanks also to Caroline Leigh Price for information on her line of the family tree :)

A Sexy Poem

I'm writing a sexy poem
But it's not easy at all
With my neighbour banging his tool
Against my living room wall

From the noise I must assume
He has an enormous drill
But the only vibrations I can feel
Are not giving me any thrills

Oh I wish he would shut up
I could concentrate then
He's ruining the creation of
A sex god coming through my pen

I just need to drift to a fantasy
And not be wide awake
But once I'm there my sexy god
Needs tablets for a headache

The buzzing is driving me bonkers
I'm nearly close to tears
I want to hear sensual whispers
Not sanding in my ears

So thank you D I Y'er
I've put my pen back on the shelf
And my sexy god has disappeared
To go and play with himself!

copyright 2020 carol ann lewis

The Workplace Bully

The workplace bully

Is a nasty little creature

But you can spot one easily

By recognizing its features

It'll have its own little gang

Just like when in school

It'll snigger as you walk past

Because it thinks its cool

The workplace becomes its kingdom

Where your presence is despised

And it rules like a communist tyrant

Cos its got bugger all else in its life

It gives itself airs and graces

As if its better than you

It'll sometimes try to be your friend

But it isn't, so don't be fooled.

It has a multitude of faces

To go with the humanity it lacks

One to extract information and

One to spread it behind your back

There's one that spews out sarcasm

Another that makes up lies

There's one to stab you in the back

And one to antagonise

Then there's its face of workplace flirt

This one really is a bore

It'll try and steal your partner

Even though its a hundred and four

It'll gather all its cronies round

To have a bloody good laugh

As you struggle with ten times the work

While it sits there on its arse

It'll blame it on its mental health

But wont give a toss about yours

The fact it made you cry today

And knock your self worth to the floor

It wont care about the dread you feel

Having to face it again next day

As you hold it together for one more shift

Though you feel like running away

It doesn't care about worries you have in life

The ones when in work you put aside

It loves to feed on your weaknesses

So it can be even more cruel and snide

But it also didn't see the strength

It took to get out of bed today

Or the courage to ignore an abuser who

Didn't evolve beyond age eight

Now the trouble with these creatures is

You have something they don't have

So next time don't run, stand up tall

Look them in the eyes and laugh

Perhaps its jealous of your money

Or because you have loads of friends

Maybe you're more popular

Its insecurities never end

Perhaps it's got a crap relationship

Or no relationship at all

But why should you suffer for that

So just love your partner more

Be yourself because that's what it hates

Be proud of who you are

Then tell it to take its school bully shit

And shove it up its arse!

copyright 2020 carol ann lewis

image by pixabay free images

Wishing

Under this jewelled summer sky
I dream a wish and let it fly
Out of my room up to the stars
Over landscapes to where you are

Inside your house by the light of the moon
It flies quietly into your room
Where it whispers once again
The things we wished when we were friends

Unlike a dream when night is done
It will not die with the morning sun
Though fate may never cross our paths
It will find a way to stay in your heart

The gap between us may be too wide
But you carry my dreams concealed inside
Asleep until the time is right
Your wish for me brings them to life

copyright carol ann lewis

Image by pixabay free images

Eerie Sundays

Autumn, Sunday teatime
The veil is wearing thin
Scents from the past
Slowly meander in

Stealthily they creep
Upon the fragile air
I look around and half expect
To see you standing there

Among the shadows and dying light
In the place that was your home
A sense of presence fills the air
A touch so slight and cold

They say I ought to be afraid
Having spirits in my home
But I quite like these eerie Sundays
When you stop by to say hello

copyright carol ann lewis 2020

Residual Sadness

Its waking up in the morning
To feel an empty side of the bed.
Its answering phones at the times he rings
To find someone else there instead
Its every love song you've ever heard
Played on the radio all day
Its looking at your road and knowing
You should have gone the other way.

Its seeing the whole world holding hands
When yours touches empty air
Its seeing a closed door begin to open
And hoping he's standing there
Its having to become a stranger
When you know all there is to know
Its hearing the future calling you
When you don't want to go

Its walking down a crowded street
And feeling totally alone
Its watching the warmth of a passionate heart
Slowly turn to stone
It's your soul trapped in shadows
While the sun warms your face
Its the afterglow of ashes
As burning feelings begin to fade.

Published 2004 by Anchor Books

Mother's Secret Life

After the morning's last goodbyes
When the house is quiet and still
When all the daily jobs are done
And there's time to kill

I have a place I visit
Not somewhere you could be
It's far away and nowhere
And only meant for me

Near a forest by a stream
In a cottage made of stone
In the shadows of the mountains
Lives a biker all alone

A giant six foot prop forward
With shoulders four feet wide
Muscles like small mountains
With a big black motorbike

His green eyes hypnotising
And all his hair shaved off
With pierced eyes, ears and nose
And face like he's chewing a wasp

He's the one your mother warned you of
Don't go out with him he's scum
Til he hands me chocolate then I know
He's as soft as a puppy's bum

He doesn't want my ironing skills
Or wash and hang out his clothes
He doesn't want me to cook his food
Or clean his house, oh no!

With my hands on his leather gear
My head fills full of sin
As I imagine the vibrating sensation
Of my legs around his engine

But just like Cinderella
When the clock strikes three
I have to leave my biker
For the real world calling me

Soon the house will be full again
With complaints of the day so bad
And everlasting choruses of
"Mam can I have ..."

But after the evenings last goodnight
When all are sound asleep
I have someone who visits
But not someone you can see

It is my six-foot biker
We ride off into a dream
To the shadows of the mountains
And his cottage by a steam

Image by Pixabay free images

Night Scent

Just for a moment tonight
In these brooding charcoal hills
A sunset of melting fire
In air so warm and still

It seemed the world was wrapped
In a hazy rose glow
It was the perfect image
Of a day so long ago

You said would be forever
Words I wish I'd never known
Though the picture is still perfect
I'm standing on my own

Breathing in the same night scent
Under the same eternal stars
Wondering why it all had to end
Wondering where you are

Then just for a second I feel
Enchantment destroy the gloom
As if there was an angel
Right with me in my room

Wrapping her wings around me
Feeding me images of you
Stealing your thoughts she lets me know
That you've remembered too


Published in 2004 by Anchor Books
copyright carol ann lewis

Image by Pixabay Free Images

Isolated Isolation

What a beautiful evening
The sun setting in the sky
Scent of jasmine on the breeze
Bumblebees flitting by.

But here I am with no one
Isolated in my house
The world so very quiet
Like a comatosed mouse.

Encased in deafening silence
From morning through til night
And I cant find the words
Try, though as I might.

To describe the nothingness
That's eating away
Holding hostage, my life
Day after day after day.

Some they are lucky
For behind their closed doors
They have group isolation
two, three or even more,

But me, I am alone
Can you comprehend what it's like
To have zero human contact
Every day and every night

Yes sometimes the phone rings
Or there's a text to be read
To break the monotony of a life
That feels like it's dead.

Life is so cold now
There's no laughter for me
No arms around me at bed time
To hold me while I sleep.

And so I drown in the depth of my dreams
To pray this nightmare will end
That happiness will find me by morning
And never abandon me again.

From New Inn to New York

This is the story of my first cousin (twice removed),  Ivor Levi Frederick Boden.

He was born on 16th January at Lower Mill Row to parents William Alfred Boden and Sarah Jane Baddeley.  He was born with what may have been a hormonal growth problem, today we call it Dwarfism, back then he would have been called a midget or something far worse.

He was born into a large family.  He had three brothers - William, Isaiah and Alfred.  He also had three sisters - Ann, Sarah and Iris.  Another sister Ruth died before her first birthday.

By the time of the 1939 register the family had moved to 47 Woodfield Road, New Inn.

Job opportunities would have been very limited for Ivor.  Many people with dwarfism ended up in the circuses or theatres.  This is exactly what happened to him.

By the 1939 register, Ivor had moved to Brighton and was living at a place called Pantzer Mansion with nine other 'midgets' as part of the Willie Pantzer Troupe of Performing Midgets.

Willie Pantzer was born in Germany.  He owned Pantzer Mansion from 1930 up until the second world war.  He was a performer and called the troupe Willie Pantzer and his Lilliputians, sometimes 'midgets' or sometimes comedians.  All ten of the midgets were adult men who had simply never grown physically.  They were often seen exercising in Preston Park on their mini bicycles and spending time at the local café.  From photographs they appear quite happy and were performing on stage with the likes of George Formby.

Once war broke out, the troupe stopped touring and never went on the road again.  Some carried on, calling themselves 'The Mighty Atoms'.  Willie Pantzer died in Brighton in 1955.

Pantzer Mansion was built in 1871 and was originally called Withdean Court.  It was situated a short walk from the corner of Withdean Road, Brighton and London Road.  A large red brick building in an acre of land, by the 1960s it had fallen into disrepair and had been abandoned.  For local children, inside it was the classic gloomy building that gave rise to it being haunted  - until its demolition.

On the 19th September 1949 Ivor Boden arrived in New York.  He became involved with James Moran who worked in publicity, creating crazy publicity stunts.  In 1951 Moran had the idea of flying three midgets on kites in Central Park.  Each was insured for $25000.  According to Moran it was perfectly safe.  The heaviest midget did not weigh more than eighty pounds and he had already tested his kites with a one hundred pound suitcase.  There was no danger - unless the line snapped!  The plan was for Ivor, George Shurety (also of the Pantzer troupe) and Elsie Shultz to hold placards advertising commercial products attached to a thirty six square feet kite. "We'll chance anything" they said.
The police though refused a permit and it never happened.

Into the 1960s and the trail goes quieter in the search for Ivor.  We know many Broadway shows employed midgets, so too did the circuses, Barnum and Bailey for example but so far no sign of him at either.  However there is a reference to an Ivor Boden in, what has to be the worst Christmas movie of all time - Santa Claus Conquers the Martians!  He played Winky, one of Santa's elves.  The film was shot on Roosevelt Field, Garden City, Long Island, New York and was released in 1964.

The last reference to Ivor Boden is his death in New York in 1977.

If anyone can add anything else to this story, Id love to hear from you