Tag: Llanwrin
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Trevor Owen Davies (1895–1966)
A Farm Boy at Christ Church, Oxford, A Welsh Scholar in Public Life In 1920s Oxford, the halls of Christ Church were filled with the sons of the English landed elite. Among them sat an unlikely figure: a farm labourer from the Dyfi Valley who had traded his plough for Augustine. Trevor Owen Davies was…
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Voices from the Uplands, why I wrote it, and why it matters now
Voices from the Uplands: The Davies Family and the Soul of Rural Wales is, in the simplest sense, a book about my own ancestors, the Davies family of Caeadda, Llanwrin. But I did not write it to produce another neatly ordered pedigree, nor to add one more family tree to the growing pile of genealogical summaries…
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My Political Heritage, Wales in My Blood, and the Quiet Lessons of Ancestry
Most people assume political identity is something you acquire, a set of opinions shaped by the news cycle, social media, and the dominant arguments of the moment. In Wales, that assumption rarely survives contact with the deeper story. Because Welsh political culture is not merely contemporary. It is historical. It is inherited. It is shaped…
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“My Relations Are Part of a Rich Tapestry of Welsh Heritage” — My Feature in Who Do You Think You Are? Magazine
I’m delighted to share that my family history research has been featured in the latest issue of Who Do You Think You Are? magazine. The article, written by Claire Vaughan, explores my decades-long journey tracing my Welsh roots — from hill farmers and Calvinist ministers to a musical icon and a self-taught solicitor — all…
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John Davies of Erglodd (1821–1887): “Apostol y Plant” and the Quiet Power of Faithful Service
In the upland heart of north Cardiganshire, where the hills of Taliesin and Talybont cradle the Dyfi valley, the life of John Davies of Erglodd stands as a shining example of rural Welsh piety, service, and enduring influence. Known in his lifetime as “Apostol y Plant” – the Children’s Apostle – he was celebrated for…
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When the Last Prince Hid in Our Hills: A Family Legend That Still Haunts Wales
High in the forgotten uplands of Montgomeryshire, where bracken folds over ancient sheep paths and the hills roll unbroken into silence, there stands a farmhouse my family still speaks of in reverent tones. Its name is Esgair Llywelyn — Llywelyn’s Ridge. Even now, the place endures. Weathered, empty, but defiantly upright. Whitewashed stone walls streaked…
