Born on 20 January 1917, my father Bryn Jones-Walters was 94 when he died at home in his own bed on 27 October 2011. He had an eventful and important life; from his time as a child growing up in the depression of the 1920s in Hirwaun, a coal mining village in the valleys of South Wales, to university in Birmingham, Europe and Asia during the Second World War and a career in the Colonial Service in Africa. Whilst there are no doubt many people who have enjoyed such a career and personal history, what marked him out was his ability as a storyteller and raconteur.
Indeed, I grew up listening to my father's stories about his life; the telling and re-telling of these stories has partly defined him for his friends and his family (and no doubt for himself); and subsequently for his grandchildren who 'sat at his feet' in eager expectation of new revelations that, in turn, provided a history that at least in some measure helped to define them. The tales seemed almost endless and even a few days before his death he was still able to recount his exploits in vivid colours; and if and when his memory began to fail him we were all, friends and family alike, able to prompt him into re-telling and re-living times past and fill in the parts where the stories had begun to unravel a little; (because by then we all knew the stories too).
And so here we are, without him. He is not here to tell his stories any more. However, those stories live on with us and can still be told; and they are not just any old stories. In this blog I will try to recount his exploits and observations as he told them to me and to others; (and I hope that some of those others may feel able to add their own comments and stories). As far as possible I will also add historical and geographical context and my own thoughts and reflections.
As for the name; some 40 or more years ago I was visiting a school friend with my parents. Whilst we were playing somewhere else in the house my father was regaling the tea party with a (another) war story. At some point my friend told me that his dad had told him that my dad could "talk the hind leg off a Donkey". Indeed he could! He was loved by so many people for his warmth, humour, wit and his stories.That delights me and I am so proud of him for it. Thanks for all of it Dad!
Now I have to sit down and write something more....
Indeed, I grew up listening to my father's stories about his life; the telling and re-telling of these stories has partly defined him for his friends and his family (and no doubt for himself); and subsequently for his grandchildren who 'sat at his feet' in eager expectation of new revelations that, in turn, provided a history that at least in some measure helped to define them. The tales seemed almost endless and even a few days before his death he was still able to recount his exploits in vivid colours; and if and when his memory began to fail him we were all, friends and family alike, able to prompt him into re-telling and re-living times past and fill in the parts where the stories had begun to unravel a little; (because by then we all knew the stories too).
And so here we are, without him. He is not here to tell his stories any more. However, those stories live on with us and can still be told; and they are not just any old stories. In this blog I will try to recount his exploits and observations as he told them to me and to others; (and I hope that some of those others may feel able to add their own comments and stories). As far as possible I will also add historical and geographical context and my own thoughts and reflections.
As for the name; some 40 or more years ago I was visiting a school friend with my parents. Whilst we were playing somewhere else in the house my father was regaling the tea party with a (another) war story. At some point my friend told me that his dad had told him that my dad could "talk the hind leg off a Donkey". Indeed he could! He was loved by so many people for his warmth, humour, wit and his stories.That delights me and I am so proud of him for it. Thanks for all of it Dad!
Now I have to sit down and write something more....
