Merched Y Bryniau

A Memory of Pentraeth.

Another Pentraeth Memory. by Ross Davies

Just about 38 years ago, I was approached by some of my former pupils, who were now mostly married and with children of their own, with the idea of forming a Pentraeth based entertainment group.

The village had always had an excellent reputation for choral singing and they wanted to revive the tradition, but on much more modern lines. Such an enterprise would give them all a focus to aim for, to enjoy, and to give good entertainment value.

They wanted me to weld them together into an acceptable group. My protests about not being able to play an instrument, read music, or act as choirmaster, went unheeded. That did not matter at all. Most of them had good voices and an ear for harmony, so they would monitor themselves, and learn as they went along. All they wanted from me was the ability to discipline and organise.

So, - "Merched Y Bryniau", was born. At the final count, the group consisted of over forty ladies ranging from thirty to over sixty years with a mixture of mums, daughters, and a couple of grans, all eager to make a success of the whole project.

Fortunately, somebody found a wonderful pianist, who could play anything asked of him. His name was Hefin Hughes, from the village of Pensarn, and he is remembered with affection and respect because he was the lynchpin of the group.

The range of their programme was very ambitious stretching from Welsh traditional songs to Welsh pop, English favourites, ancient and modern, South American collections, Sea Shanties, etc. The list was endless, but all interspersed by solos, duets and comedy spots. At one stage they even experimented with a skiffle band complete with washboards.

Invitations to perform at various venues began to roll in. Most were very enjoyable but some places did present certain hazards.

One such occured at Llanddona Village Hall. The hall was filled with everybody settling down to enjoy the entertainment. Merched Y Bryniau were opening the evening with a collection of South American songs, starting with the "Banana Boat Song". The ladies were looking as authentic as possible in the best South American style and each member carried a basket of bananas on their heads. No sooner had they reached the first chorus, the lights went out and plunged everyone into total darkness.

A panic stricken whisper reached me at the side of the stage, "What shall we do, Mrs Davies?".

"Stay exactly where you are", I ordered. "Put your baskets on the stage beside you. The lights will be back, oh in no time".

Half an hour passed by before they did and in the meantime, we heard strange scuffles, wafts of moving air, and stifled giggles around us in the darkness. When the lights finally came on, they showed empty baskets on the stage, and the children in the first two rows of the audience, polishing off the last of the bananas.

Another time, at the old hall in Newborough, just as the group were launching into a lively Welsh chorus, the whole stage dropped two inches under their feet. To give them their due, they kept their nerve and no one screamed, but the whole evening had to be abruptly terminated. Old age and woodworm in the hall had won the day.

The newly formed skiffle band had it's brief moment of glory, headed by a baton wielding bandmaster. This lady, shall be nameless, but she was well known as a joker in Pentraeth. Merched Y Bryniau were invited to entertain at a social evening in a large chapel room in Upper Bangor. They received a warm welcome and the audience thoroughly enjoyed the evening. The final item on the programme was the skiffle band.

Unknown to the rest of us, the bandmaster had dressed up in a full clown regalia,- bushy red wig, two feet long shoes, a red nose, and a pair of baggy check trousers held up by red braces. She was an instant hit with the audience. The band performed well and as they reached a final crashing crescendo, under the waving baton, she purposely dropped the baggy pants around her ankles and revealed a pair of red and white striped boxer shorts underneath. The cheers from the audience hit the roof, and she was delighted that her joke had worked so well.

Later, we were all offered a very welcome supper. However, in the middle of eating, I was approached by a grim looking gentleman wanting to know if I was responsible for this dreadful group. When I replied that I was, he launched into a tirade about the amount of smut shown in television these days and now he was having to put up with it in his own chapel hall as well. We should be thoroughly ashamed of ourselves. Looking around, I could not see a single person that shared his sentiment but I did go home that night suitably chastened.

The lady offender in question, also got thoroughly told off for going too far, as usual, by her mother, who was also a member of Merched Y Bryniau and a performer in the skiffle band. She had laughed as heartily as anyone while it was all going on.

Happy days.

Perhaps an ex-member of Merched Y Bryniau would also like to add a memory of her own.

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