Fishguard/Goodwick

Gotta remember the “w” is skipped.  Goodik, Smidick’s &c

A couple weeks ago a tree fell on the tracks one night as the train left a tunnel.  Must have been a shock to the engineer who thankfully was only banged and bruised.  As a result I got off the train and on a bus at Port Talbot Parkway to finish the journey.  No bother.

My cousin Alan Geach (we had the same grandfather about 160 years ago but to see us together you would thing it was last generation) was waiting at the bus stop.  In my excitement I nearly forgot my hat!

The view from his backdoor is alright.

 

A few years ago I found my self in the northwest England town of Whitehaven where John Paul Jones and his crew invaded England.  Jones and half the landing party immediately went to spike the harbor cannons whilst the remainder were supposed to gather hostages and supplies.  Typical Yanks, that group made for the local and proceeded to empty it of the casks of beer, some into the boats and some down the throats! Finding half his party pissed, the good captain called off the attack thus sparing England from humiliation.

I retell that tale because in 1797, the UK was invaded for the last time.  The historic coastal town of Fishguard was invaded by a group of French frigates. Again liquor was involved as the French soldiers got into a wine store.  Jemima Nichols(1750-1832), a formidable local woman who in 1797, armed only with a pitchfork (as local legend tells us) , reputedly single-handedly rounded up a dozen invading French soldiers. They surrendered shortly afterwards and the peace treaty was signed in The Royal Oak pub, where Lord Cawdor, commander of the British forces, had his HQ at the time. This rather bizarre Battle of Fishguard is recalled in a wonderful 30-metre-long tapestry in the Town Hall that local women embroidered for the 200th anniversary. Jemima became a Welsh heroine and was awarded a lifetime pension – her grave is in the churchyard over the road. Jemima’s story appears in the novel Heroine of the Fishguard Invasion by Sian Lewis (b. 1945).

The desk where treaty was signed.

When I saw my doppelgänger’s photo on the wall, the resemblance, to me, was uncanny.

A group of the local women donned red cloaks, grabbed pitchforks and poles and stood atop the hill.  The French mistook them for Redcoats which helped to facilitate the surrender.