I had not been to Pontypridd more than a handful of times in thirty years after studying for three years at the old University of Glamorgan in Treforest from 1991-1994. The University of South Wales can now be seen gleaming white from the A470. Prior to Glam it was the Polytechnic of Wales and previous to that the old School of Mines. I used to travel up to Treforest either by train or car from Grangetown in Cardiff as a mature student. I was twenty five years of age when I got in on an access course which allowed me, a school failure with 3 O levels to my name, the privilege of studying a Degree in Humanities specialising in Theatre & Media Drama daahling on the back of a C grade in English attained at Night School.
Even then I did not venture much into Pontypridd because we'd heard that the locals did not like the students much which was actually a load of tosh because you could not meet a warmer, kinder bunch of people walking down Taff Street which I have done for the last couple of Saturdays. I had felt for a while that I had not done the town justice and even now I'm not sure that I have but in my pretentious flaneurial way I have taken a few photographs and will add a few words of psychogeography to go with them.
Back in 1991 I was into Rugby and I remember purchasing a Pontypridd R.F.C shirt and a Cardiff R.F.C shirt. There's nothing like hedging your bets is there?! I worked as an early morning cleaner at the BBC offices in Llandaff to support my studies and on one morning I was wearing the Pontypridd shirt to do the daily rounds of emptying bins and hoovering the studios and who should come through the double doors but the late great Ray Gravell, a Scarlet through and through who pointed at the Bridge on the black and white striped shirt smiled and then growled jokingly.
I was cleaning at the BBC when news of the death of Freddie Mercury came over the little televisions they had dotted about the place. I had been a big Queen fan and that news floored me along with millions of others. The mighty song bird was no more.
There's a song to be sung about Pontypridd and a duet between Ray Gravell & Freddie Mercury would be the ideal combination to sing it. In fact I'd love to hear them both singing 'Hen Wlad fy Nhadau' penned in the town by Evan James with music by his son James. There is a magnificent statue to them both in the splendid Ynysangharad Park.
Perhaps Ray and Freddie could be accompanied by a local male voice choir. There's plenty of them.
Could Pontypridd start competing with Hay on Wye as a 'Book Town'? Look at this space age Library in the foreground and have you visited the new Storyville Bookshop on Market Street?
A shocking admission but I don't think I went into the iconic Ponty Market when I was a student at Treforest but I made amends for it on this particular visit.
The late Patrick Hannan, political journalist and radio presenter once said that he overheard a lady in Pontypridd Market looking at garments, possibly these pinafores below, and saying to her friend
"Blue I do like, pink I do rather but piws/puce (purple) I go scatty over piws"
I have mentioned dead people a lot in this blog post but the beauty of the deceased is that they were once very much alive.
A Ghost Sign: Every Psychogeographer's Dream
Diolch am Ddarllen
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