It was like the town was grief-ridden.

The tributes resembled the aftermath of someone’s death. Lovely words. Lovely memories. Endless messages saying they should “build a statue”.

The man in question hadn’t died.

He’d simply left a football club.

But that’s the stature of the man.

This man has taken Wrexham into his heart, and Wrexham has responded by taking him into theirs. They’ve elevated him beyond an employee, beyond a director, almost to hero status.

That man is Humphrey Ker.

The man who started it all.

Now, the last time I saw Humphrey he was driving a mini digger.

He hadn’t exactly been trained on it and there was a genuine concern that our photo opportunity to mark the start of rebuilding the Wrexham Miners Project might end in disaster if he pulled the wrong lever.

To be fair...

It would have made great content.

The only real problem wasn’t the digger.

It was everybody else.

Humphrey is the Patron of the Wrexham Miners Project, and he takes that role seriously.

I’ve been lucky enough to work alongside him on several occasions and one thing always stands out.

The amount of time he gives people.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a volunteer, someone visiting for the first time or a family who simply want to say hello.

He has this knack of making you feel like you’re the most important person there.

The downside?

Trying to get any official duties done.

“We need Humphrey!” became a familiar cry during our open days.

Not because he was hiding somewhere...

Because he’d been stopped again.

Another selfie.

Another conversation.

Another family wanting a chat.

And the thing was, he never tried to escape.

He never looked at his watch.

He never made anyone feel like they were holding him up.

To Humphrey, they weren’t interruptions.

They were the reason he was there.

By the time he eventually wandered over to us, he’d probably spoken to half the visitors, yet somehow he still found time to chat with every volunteer as well.

That’s a rare quality.

Then there was the Manchester Marathon.

Humphrey chose to run (or was he forced by Ryan and Rob) it in aid of the Wrexham Miners Project, raising thousands of pounds and, just as importantly, raising awareness of what we’re trying to achieve.

It was a remarkable effort.

After he’d crossed the finish line there were hugs, celebrations and cameras everywhere.

Rob McElhenney was there.

I was there too, taking photographs and filming bits for the Miners Project.

Then Humphrey spotted me.

He walked straight over, threw his arms around me and said four words I’ll always remember.

“We’ve done it, Col.”

That tiny little word...

We.

I’d taken a few photographs.

He’d just run a marathon.

Yet somehow he made me feel I’d been part of it.

That’s Humphrey.

He has this incredible ability to make everyone feel included.

That’s why everyone connected with the Wrexham Miners Project was delighted to hear he’ll be staying on as our Patron.

We’re incredibly lucky to have him.

Football clubs evolve.

Players move on.

Managers move on.

Board members move on.

That’s football.

But Wrexham AFC finds itself at a pivotal moment.

Popular players have left.

Now one of the most popular figures behind the scenes has moved on too.

At the same time, the club continues to grow at an astonishing pace. Buying The Turf is another huge statement of intent and shows the ambition still driving the club forward.

Growth is exciting.

But growth also changes things.

One of the takeover’s greatest achievements has been bringing a global audience to Wrexham while keeping local people feeling part of the journey.

That balance is precious.

It’s taken years to build.

And it wouldn’t take much for that balance to shift.

If there’s one thing Humphrey understood better than most, it was that Wrexham AFC isn’t just a football club.

It’s a community.

That’s why the reaction to his departure has felt less like somebody changing jobs and more like saying goodbye to an old friend.

Thankfully, not completely.

We’ll still see him at the Wrexham Miners Project.

We’ll still hear his laugh.

We’ll probably still hear someone shouting...

“We need Humphrey!”

...and, knowing him, he’ll still stop for every selfie before wandering over with that familiar smile.

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This blog was first published in Oct 2023. This 3rd Terry Fox Run is in Bellevue Park on 4th October 2026.

Four lads are sitting in a studio. It's This Morning. They are being interviewed by Andi Peters and Rochelle Holmes. The Four lads are from Wrexham. The Welcome to Wrexham programe has catapulted them into the limelight. These lads are the Declan Swans. And during the interview Michael Hett, known to many as Scoot, the lead singer and wordsmith of the Swans, mentioned a charity gig for the Terry Fox Foundation. The Disney/FX TV show has helped many people from the Wrexham area, it's raised their profile, boosted their self esteem, but it also helped the Terry Fox foundation and answers why we've seen Scoot wearing a Terry Fox tee shirt in central London earlier in the year and being called an honorary Canadian for the day.

So I'm sitting in a park on a warm summer night having a catch up with Wendy. She married to Scoot. She also has the unenviable task of managing the band. She's running through a list of gigs, I'm trying to find alternative angles for content. She mentions a Terry Fox foundation gig at the Turf. Scoot recently travelled to London as guest of the Terry Fox foundation. And it got me thinking, who is Terry Fox. Two hours later I'm down a Terry Fox rabbit hole on YouTube and boy, I now know why Canadians hold him in such high regard.

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Terry Fox was a cancer sufferer who lost his leg to this horrible disease, but during his treatment he saw the pain and suffering of other patients and decided to do something about it. He would run from one side of Canada, some 4700 miles, to the other. He'd run a marathon a day, every day until completed. It captured the heart of the nation. At first it was a lonely run, just him followed by his mate Doug Alward in a camper van, but as the publicity grew, the crowds and fundraising increased.

However, on September 1st, after 143 days and  3,339 miles, Terry was forced to stop running outside of Thunder Bay, Ontario because cancer had appeared in his lungs. An entire nation was stunned and saddened. Terry passed away on June 28, 1981 at the age 22.

This tragic event has left a legacy. Fundraising for cancer research continues in his name to this day. Over £500 million has been raised to date across the world in his name. The fight continues.

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I contacted Neil Johnson, the chairman of the UK branch of the foundation. He tells me the Terry Fox Run was started by Izzy Sharp, the founder of the Four Seasons hotel chain.  In the UK, the Four Seasons helped organise the run throughout the 1980's and 90's. However the London  run stopped in 2007 until Neil himself restarted it, and to quote him.

"To ensure the UK never forgets Terry Fox again we have a number of runs across the UK this year, and do events (like Wrexham) to spread the legend of Terry Fox and what he means for cancer patients and Canadians in general. He is our inspirational hero".

So why Wrexham? Why Scoot? He's part of a triangle.

During an episode of Welcome to Wrexham, the brilliant TV series that's propelled the town into the spotlight, we all saw the story of Scoot's battle with cancer. We saw how the brilliant surgeons and nurses helped him beat this horrible disease. The Declan Swans have always helped at charity gigs. I've been there when they've put their fee directly into a charity bucket. I was there when they played for St Christophers school prom . They give back to the community that's supported them. Neil contacted Scoot to help highlight the work the foundation does.

And the triangle is completed by the Wrexham afc co-owner Ryan Reynolds, one of Canada's finest exports. He's backed the Terry Fox Foundation and this year worked with the Foundation to co-design this year’s T-shirt.  Each year is a different design, and here he is wearing the 2023 tee shirt. “

The perfect triangle fighting cancer. Neil Johnson also mentioned that the foundation has never organised a run in Wales. North Wales has had such a boost from the TV programme, and usually charities and corporations would only consider Cardiff to launch any Welsh operation. Thankfully, due to Ryan, Rob and the exposure of our great town, Wrexham is now considered, and sometimes prioritised before Cardiff. Let's hope Neil can arrange something to honour Terry Fox in our home town.

So while the football team has improved, the lives of others have improved, whether it be a local band who played in front of 20,000 at the Kings of Leons gig,  local venues full before each game, local hotels full, and restaurants packed. The town has a special buzz about it. Even local charities are benefiting, especially with American Wrexham fans who are helping fund the local Foodbank. The purchase of Wrexham has benefitted so many people and that includes the Terry Fox Foundation.

So come along to the Turf, sing some songs, drink some beer.......but please buy one of these Ryan Reynolds designed shirts and help the Terry Fox Foundation continue the fight towards beating this horrible disease.

If you cannot attend, fear not. There will be a full review of the night on here. Please subscribe and if you want the review before anyone else, please consider a paid subscription. From only about 70p a week, a bargain. Videos and pictures from the night will be on Music and Sport WXM Facebook page, as well as the Declan Swans page. Please subscribe to both.


The Terry Fox Foundation

One Lamp. Three Disasters. One Long Night – Part 3

I’ve made it.

I’m in Cardiff.

I find the multi-storey car park and immediately forget my carefully thought-out plan to park in a quiet corner and grab a couple of hours’ sleep. Instead, I park right by the pedestrian entrance.

I doze off a few times but never properly sleep. Every time someone walks past, I’m convinced they’re looking at the bloke asleep in his car. And, to be honest, you never get quality sleep in a car anyway.

Oh yeah...

I also desperately need the toilet.

I decide to head for the venue.

I should have thought this through.

I had all the outreach material with me. Leaflets don’t seem heavy until you’re carrying hundreds of them. Add a couple of miners’ lamps to the box—one of them still lit—and suddenly you’ve got a serious workout on your hands.

The box even had wheels.

Why didn’t I bring something to pull it with?

For a brief moment I considered threading my belt through the handle, but I wasn’t convinced my trousers would stay where they were supposed to.

Instead, I hoisted the whole thing onto my shoulder.

By now I was tired.

Hungry.

Desperate for the loo.

Trying to find my way around Cardiff Bay.

And carrying a heavy box containing a lit miners’ lamp.

Every now and then I could feel the warmth from the lamp through the side of the box, so I’d swap shoulders and carry on.

I just hoped it wasn’t much further.

It was now 8am.

Surely someone would be at the Pierhead by now.

One thing I did know was that the building had been built using Ruabon Red bricks, so as I rounded the corner, I knew instantly I’d found it.

It stood proudly in Cardiff Bay.

Magnificent.

I walked past the Senedd, but there was only one building I wanted to visit.

Although, if I’m honest...

The toilet was still my biggest priority.

The doors were locked.

I peered through the windows.

Nobody.

Plan A wasn’t looking too clever.

For a split second I considered leaving the box outside while I searched for a toilet, but the lamps were far too valuable to leave unattended.

Besides...

Can you imagine someone opening a box outside a government building and finding a lit miners’ lamp?

In my head I’d already pictured the bomb squad blowing up a box full of leaflets.

I’d hold on.

I sat down.

People watched.

Surely someone would turn up soon.

Thankfully they did.

I spotted a man walking towards the door and practically chased after him.

He turned out to be the sound engineer. He couldn’t let me in himself, but he knew someone who could.

Security arrived.

After a few questions they agreed to let me use the toilet and leave my box inside.

Then came the next hurdle.

“We’ll just have a quick look in the box.”

He lifted the lid.

Looked at the lamp.

Looked at me.

“I’m afraid we can’t allow naked flames in here.”

“It’s sealed,” I replied.

“It’s still a flame.”

“It’s a miners’ lamp.”

“I’ll have to ask for advice.”

Fair enough.

Off I went to Greggs.

Toilet... tick.

Breakfast... tick.

Coffee... definitely tick.

Lamp... still under review.

Food always makes life seem a little better.

So does photography.

I wandered around Cardiff Bay, took a few photographs and, by the time I returned, the Pierhead was open and everyone had arrived.

Then came the bad news.

The flame had to go.

Have you ever argued with someone who is simply following the rules?

You know they’re doing their job.

They know they’re doing their job.

Neither of you is wrong.

“Sorry... no naked flames.”

“It’s not naked.”

“It’s still a flame.”

“It’s sealed.”

Eventually I suggested a compromise.

“Can I just film it entering the hall first? Then I’ll put it out.”

To his credit, he agreed.

I filmed the moment.

My job was done.

Now all I had to do was extinguish the lamp.

Small problem.

I’d seen plenty of people lighting miners’ lamps.

I’d seen plenty of people trying to keep them lit.

I’d never actually seen anyone switch one off.

There I was, surrounded by venue staff, all patiently waiting while I fiddled around trying absolutely everything.

It was becoming slightly embarrassing.

Then, almost as if the lamp felt sorry for me...

It quietly went out of its own accord.

Perfect timing.

The event itself was a great success.

We spoke to invited guests who genuinely loved hearing about the Wrexham Miners Project.

We made some fantastic contacts with fellow exhibitors.

Around 11am, however, I suddenly hit a wall.

The lack of sleep, the heavy sweatshirt I’d now been wearing for well over 24 hours and the unexpected warmth inside the building all caught up with me.

For a few moments I genuinely thought I was going to pass out.

There was no way I wanted to keel over in the middle of someone’s speech.

I quietly slipped outside.

Water.

A chocolate bar.

And, perhaps most importantly...

A can of Lynx.

Miraculously, all three worked.

Refreshed and smelling considerably better than I had ten minutes earlier, I headed back inside just in time for my favourite moment of the day.

NEW Sinfonia used our miners’ lamp during a performance from Up From Underground, the opera they created about the Gresford Disaster.

Our little flame had travelled from Gresford...

To Aberfan...

To Senghenydd...

And finally to Cardiff.

It had become part of another story.

It had commemorated three of Wales’ greatest tragedies while helping tell those stories to a new audience.

For me, that made every mile, every hour without sleep and every aching shoulder completely worthwhile.

The Pierhead is a building made from Ruabon Red bricks.

It felt fitting that Wrexham should be there, reminding decision-makers in Cardiff that our city is built on strong foundations and deserves to become the UK’s City of Culture in 2029.

The Wrexham Miners Project is proud to be playing its part in that journey.

And I’m incredibly proud to play a small part in the Wrexham Miners Project.

Eventually it was time to head home.

There was just one final challenge.

That box.

It somehow felt even heavier on the way back.

Perhaps because I was exhausted.

Perhaps because I’d carried it around Cardiff all day.

Or perhaps because we’d clearly not given away enough leaflets.

I found myself wishing we’d been even busier just to make the journey back to the car a little easier.

The drive home passed without incident.

I even made it back to the Wrexham Miners Project in time to catch most of the visit from Wrexham AFC Women.

Not bad for someone who had been awake for what felt like forever.

Looking back, I questioned my sanity more than once over those three days.

The overnight drive.

The mountain road.

The police stop.

The argument over a “naked flame”.

Carrying a ridiculously heavy box around Cardiff Bay.

I’d probably do every single bit of it again.

Because that little flame didn’t just travel from Wrexham to Cardiff.

It connected three communities.

Three tragedies.

And countless people who still refuse to let those stories be forgotten.

Sometimes a light doesn’t just help you see.

Sometimes it helps others remember.

And that made every mile worthwhile.

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One Lamp. Three Disasters. One Long Night.

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So where are we?

The car’s parked outside the Wrexham Miners Project and, unbelievably, I have a lit miners’ lamp strapped into my passenger seat.

If you’ve missed Part One, please catch up here: www.wxmweekly.com. It’ll tell you all about the plan.

Here, I’ll tell you the results...

Now, the miners’ lamps are famously designed to be used in gassy mines, but at 2.30am, with my head still thinking I’ve completely lost the plot, it doesn’t seem right driving into a petrol station to buy fuel. I question myself several times, but I really need some diesel. I choose a pay-at-the-pump station because, even though I know it’s sealed, if it wasn’t, I’d only kill myself. I would become famous and hopefully get a candle at next year’s vigil. 🤣

...But it is definitely sealed.

Something I’d end up arguing about later in the day.

Things started out OK. I’m making good time because not many fools drive this route at that time of the morning. Leominster comes and goes.

No problem.

I’m about to enter Hereford when I see blue flashing lights in my rear-view mirror. I pull over to let the police get on with catching crooks.

He doesn’t go past.

He pulls in behind me.

My thoughts immediately go to the letter sitting on top of my microwave.

I’ve got a speeding fine to pay.

Please God, not another one, I thought.

The police officer comes over and tells me I’ve got a sidelight out. I smack it a few times, but it doesn’t come back on.

It was worth a try.

“What exactly are you up to... at 4am?”

“I’m taking a flame from Wrexham to Cardiff for a charity.”

I didn’t mention Aberfan and Senghenydd.

I didn’t need anyone else questioning my sanity.

He accepted my explanation and my promise to get the light fixed in the morning, and I was back on my way.

I drove past Big Pit and thought about all the places around here I really need to visit. Everyone seems to neglect Mid Wales.

Shortly afterwards, I was pleased to finally see an Aberfan sign.

The memorial wasn’t open during the night, so I only needed to find a town sign. I pulled over, made a video and took a few pictures.

It didn’t feel right just driving past, but I promise to return.

I put Senghenydd into the satnav.

It was my next stop on this remembrance journey.

The satnav stated it was only 20 minutes away.

Superb.

I thought it might be miles out of my way.

I drove away from Aberfan and into the next village. I was driving up the High Street when my satnav suddenly went mental. I thought it was broken.

I turned around and realised it wasn’t the satnav at all.

I’d missed a turning.

How?

Because the road didn’t exactly look inviting. It wasn’t very wide and seemed to disappear steeply up the side of the mountain.

There was no turning back now.

It went up.

And up.

And up.

The shops disappeared.

Then the houses.

Then the farms.

Until there was nothing.

Just a road.

In the pitch black.

With patches of fog.

A road barely wide enough for one car.

Passing places every now and then.

Steep drops down one side.

And locals using it as a shortcut.

Headlights appeared in the distance, blinding me as they came towards me, making it impossible to judge where the next passing place was.

Even worse, cars started appearing behind me.

By now my eyes were getting heavy.

I needed a break.

I regretted not taking one before tackling this road.

The satnav said twenty minutes.

It took me considerably longer.

But I got through it safely.

Now can I take you back to the meeting I mentioned in Part One?

It was my idea to take a flame to Cardiff.

I take full responsibility for that.

It was Wendy, a fellow trustee, who suggested Aberfan.

I don’t blame her.

I still think it was a beautiful idea.

Then George — Mr Wrexham Miners Project himself — suggested Senghenydd.

Another brilliant idea.

Again, I don’t blame anyone for the trip.

However...

I do blame George for my predicament of driving over that mountain between the two disaster sites.

When I got back, I mentioned the drive.

George casually replied...

“Oh yes, I’ve driven that road. It’s really dangerous, isn’t it?”

He’d driven it………. in daylight...

...and never thought to warn me.

“Oh yeah... I probably should have said something, shouldn’t I?”

Thanks, George.

Ah well.

I survived.

And I missed yet another opportunity to make the front page of the Leader.

The pictures were taken.

The videos were recorded.

The flame was still burning.

Now it was time for Cardiff.

Part 3 sees me arrive in Cardiff, marvel over a brick building, get the back of my head on TV, and a rush to get home.

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One Lamp. Three Disasters. One Long Night.

It’s pitch black.

It’s foggy.

It’s 5am and I’m up a mountain.

The road is barely wide enough for one car. Passing places suddenly become your best friend. To make matters worse, the locals seem to use it as a shortcut. In the distance all you can see are headlights coming towards you. You try to judge the best place to pull in and avoid blocking the road.

And all I’m thinking is...

How the hell have I got here?

It had seemed like such a good idea at the Trustees’ meeting.

I’m in South Wales, and I’ve still got lots to do.

So how did I get here?

I remember the meeting well. The Wrecsam2029 team invited the Wrexham Miners Project to an event in Cardiff to promote the City of Culture and, as I was on annual leave, I volunteered myself.

Then I realised it clashed with the vigil we organise for the Gresford Colliery Disaster.

We light candles at 6pm and, after an evening of poems and remembrance, we extinguish them at 2.08am, the time widely accepted as the moment of the explosion.

I didn’t want to miss it.

I’d booked my annual leave because of it.

“I’ll drive overnight,” I announced.

Everyone looked at me as if I’d lost the plot.

The annoying thing was...

They were probably right.

When plans were discussed for the Cardiff event, we realised it fell on the anniversary of the Gresford Colliery Disaster, so it seemed only right that we should honour the 266 men who lost their lives.

“Why don’t we take a candle with us?”

A brilliant idea.

It was then suggested that, rather than a candle, we should take one of our miners’ lamps with a symbolic flame.

It would become the link between the two events.

Let’s do this.

Then came another conversation that probably should have triggered another sanity check.

“You’ll be passing near Aberfan.”

The Aberfan disaster happened on 21 October 1966, when a huge coal waste tip collapsed and thundered down into the village, engulfing Pantglas Junior School and nearby homes. One hundred and forty-four people lost their lives, including 116 children. It is almost impossible to imagine the heartbreak that followed. More than half a century later, Aberfan is still remembered with enormous sadness — a tragedy that devastated a community and should never have been allowed to happen.

“Why don’t you take our flame there too?”

It was such a lovely idea I couldn’t possibly say no.

It completely overruled my sanity check.

I convinced myself it wasn’t much of a detour to honour another Welsh tragedy.

It would be a privilege.

Then someone uttered another sentence.

“Hey... you’re not far from Senghenydd.”

The Senghenydd Colliery Disaster happened on 14 October 1913, when an explosion ripped through the Universal Colliery near Caerphilly. Four hundred and thirty-nine miners and one rescuer lost their lives, and it remains the worst mining disaster in British history.

I have to admit there is a sense of shame on my part that I didn’t know enough about Senghenydd and the sheer scale of what happened there.

It is difficult to comprehend just how many families and how much of a community were changed forever in a single day.

Learning more about Senghenydd has only strengthened my determination to keep telling these stories and, in particular, to continue working to honour the 266 men who lost their lives at Gresford.

These men, their families and the communities they left behind deserve to be remembered.

Their stories should never be allowed to fade.

It was a no-brainer.

Decision made.

I’d leave Wrexham at 2.30am.

Drive to Aberfan.

Across to Senghenydd.

Then finally on to Cardiff Bay.

Simple.

Or so I thought.

The vigil was, as usual, an event that fills my heart.

There’s remembrance.

There’s fun.

There’s food.

There’s togetherness.

There’s solitude.

For such a reflective night, it’s also incredibly uplifting because we’re surrounded by friends.

It was even live on the ITV news

Knowing I was driving through the night, I popped home for a couple of hours beforehand.

It was going to be a very long day.

I managed a little snooze before returning to the Wrexham Miners Project at 11pm.

Then, at 2.15am, I was sitting in my car.

Lamp strapped safely into the passenger seat.

Ready for the journey to Cardiff.

It was going to be simple...

Wasn’t it?

Follow me for Part Two, which includes a petrol station dilemma, an unexpected police stop, a mountain panic, a few hours’ sleep in a car park and an argument over a naked flame.

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Many things will be written about the 266 men who died at Gresford in 1934, more so due to the media attention the owners Rob and Ryan have given us. The spotlight on the disaster and the links to Wrexham Football Club ensure the memorial will be remembered. I could write about the way the families were treated back then. How the pay was cut because they didn't finish their last shift. How many men who died had their wages in their pockets, and that money will still be buried in the pit some 90 years later. I could have talked about the help given by others to the widows. How Chester football club contributed to the fund. How the town come together, but I want to talk about here and now. How 90 years on, there are positives emerging from the disaster.

I've written several times about how I became a trustee. Scoot and his wife Wendy were having meetings before the massive King of Leons gig that the Declan Swans were opening at. Since then, I've found myself embroiled in a world of community. Of caring. Of friendship. I heard a volunteer speak at the AGM mentioning that the Miners Rescue Project had given them a purpose in life after being 'let go' by her employees after an illness, and I realised, I feel the same way. Helping run the social media side of things has given me a purpose, and with that, I wanted to point at some of the activities the Miners help with, some official and some unofficially.

One of the first voices I heard today was Margaret and Alan, who dedicate so much time and effort collecting, displaying and researching the history of coal mining in the area. Only today did I find out of a small coal mine only half a mile from my house. I always assumed it was mined from Gresford, but Alan explained that the Wrexham and Acton colliery was separate. This is the knowledge this pair have. They have a display in our newly refurbished Gresford room. It's well worth a visit.

Alan had given a lift to an American girl who has fallen in love with our town and its people.Cassie had travelled over for the Crawley game. Shes a musician, so while in town she'd been asked to go on a radio show. David Wilberforce is a volunteer at the Wrexham Miners Project, as well as having a radio show of Calon FM. Scoot and myself rib him because I have close ties to Premier Radio, and I've threatened to do a rival show to his at 6 till 7 on a Thursday. He's constantly asking me to promote his show so here goes. Please listen to David Wilberforce on Calon FM. He's the second best DJ at the Miners. David was another who spoke passionately at the AGM. He spoke about what the centre means to him.

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After I entered the cafe I was greeted by fellow trustee Wendy. She was sitting with Kia, who had offered to read a poem at the 90th Anniversary of the Gresford Disaster. She seemed to understand the ethics of the project. She'd had the poem written out in braille so blind people could join in, and had videoed a signer to include the deaf. This symbolises the beliefs the centre has. Inclusion. We discussed the running order for Saturday, or rather lack of running order. We tend to be fluid, and things work out as we go. It's a relaxed evening we have planned. The main event is the lighting of the 266 candles.

Although Kia had filmed her friend signing, it seems they had wasted their time, as she realised Emma, her friend was performing in the evening with Signing Sensations just before her. We laughed. We also discussed our mutual friend Cai, who had officially left Signing Sensations to go to college, but has rejoined them after finding out they are performing with the Declan Swans. His favourite band. He will leave them again on Sunday. He's very fickle.

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Next on my agenda is a launch video to announce a 90th Memorial logo. This has been designed by Liam Stokes-Massey who is a local artist who has helped Wrexham with its mural resurgence. He was commissioned by an American friend who was interested in helping us raise money for our education department. For various reasons, some of which might become clear by the time you read this, the launch video couldn't be arranged until last minute. I, with the help of Wendy, put together some shots and videos that I'd hopefully make into a presentable video.

I was just about to leave when I saw someone drive past that I recognised. It was Micky Thomas with his old mate Joey Jones. As the media man, I was going nowhere. I stayed and chatted with the legends and Scoot gave them a tour, as i took loads of photos. I must say, Micky is an inquisitive man, and asked Scoot lots of questions. Its great to see these legends coming and finding out about our project.
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But my day wasn't over. I popped home and began editing the video, and I'm not one to brag myself up........but it's a good one. With the video boxed off, when visiting Tŷ Pawb yesterday, I saw some local schools had made a display, so I popped there to take some videos and photos, and then on to Wingetts. Now, only I could go to the auctioneers who are doing a massive auction for us in October on the only day they aren't having viewings. I take some shots of the window though. Loads of Wrexham afc lots will be available that day. I'm looking forward to it.

So for the 90th Gresford Disaster Memorial we have.

Fri. A concert in the Parish church.

Sat. We have lots of events on and visitors booked in. We are also having a bucket collection at the game. Please bring some spare cash. In the evening 6pm till 8pm we have the candle lighting, with various groups, poets, choirs etc
We will be staying on site until 2.08am. The approximate time of the explosion where we will extinguish the candles.

Sunday. 11am. A service at the Gresford Disaster Memorial.
Sunday pm. Church service.

The last song of the gig had just finished, but I knew what was about to happen. I rushed to my car and changed cameras. This was a job for my video set-up. As soon as I was ready, a tall man in a white overcoat appeared, and like the Pied Piper, people followed him. This is the usual end of a gig by Reverend and the Makers. An open-air sing-song.

Jon McClure wanted a platform to sing from. He found it by sitting on the railings outside Santander Bank, opposite the Horse and Jockey pub. For 15 minutes he sang classic songs, beginning with a tribute to Dolly Parton by singing Jolene and finishing with Elvis’ Caught in a Trap. This topped off a great night. One of those nights you’ll remember, one of those gigs where songs will be stuck in your head for days.

Strange thing was, I wasn’t supposed to be at this gig. I was at the Llangollen Fringe capturing all the artists there, but I got there too early and was running out of steam. Got some great photos, especially Wearewired, The Afterparty, The Welcome Party amongst others. I was supposed to be there all evening, but a quick message to Kev at the Rockin Chair changed that. I was homeward bound to recharge my batteries, human and camera, and made it for the doors at 7pm.

It was at this point I noticed the lack of equipment. Oh, it’s acoustic. Had I made a mistake? Should I have stayed in Llangollen?

Now one thing I know about Reverend and the Makers is they have a loyal fan base. And it seems a lot of them come from Wrexham. The whole front row seemed to know the words to every song, even the new ones. Debuting some songs from the new album “Is This How Happiness Feels?” was a no-brainer. This was an album launch night brought to Wrexham by Jacaranda Records.

They opened with Heatwave in the Cold North, followed by Haircut, before Heavyweight Champion of the World and it immediately lifted the room to a new level.

What followed was a really good mix of Reverend and the Makers across the years. Some old, some new, some slow, and plenty that had people singing along from the first line.

Songs like Long Long Time, Shine the Light, A Letter to My 21 Year Old Self, Late Night Phone Call, Twenty Seven Past Midnight and Open Your Window all showed different sides of the band, while Fucked Up and Sex With the Ex brought that familiar Reverend and the Makers edge.

The thing that really stood out, though, was the atmosphere.

For what was essentially an acoustic set, it had more energy than plenty of full-band gigs I’ve been to. Jon McClure knows exactly how to work a room. He talks to the crowd, gets people involved, tells funny stories and makes the whole thing feel like everyone is part of it rather than just watching from a distance.

There were quieter moments, there were big singalongs, and there was that constant feeling that the crowd were right there with him.

Then came Silence Is Talking to finish.

And that was the moment the whole place really went for it.

Everyone was bouncing, singing, and suddenly this acoustic gig felt anything but acoustic. It was a brilliant way to end the night. But as we know, it wasn’t the end. We then had Jon’s traditional open-air busk.

I was expecting a stripped-back Reverend and the Makers set.

What I got was one of the liveliest acoustic gigs I’ve been to.

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The Ticket Man

The job was complete.

Sorted.

You knew it was a success when an Argentine with limited English started stuttering, trying to find the words to say thank you, every attempt accompanied by an ever-growing smile. In the end, he gave up and threw his arms around me.

“Thank you, my friend.”

The smile grew even bigger.

“Thank you so much.”

I had made this man so happy, and that made me happy too.

Two happy men.

It took a bit of work, but two happy, contented men.

I’d found him the rocking horse shit people hunt for without success. I’d shown him the end of the rainbow. It was sitting in his email account.

A Wrexham AFC ticket.

He had finally made it to a game.

It all started two years ago.

I was helping Wendy Hett organise and photograph the Terry Fox weekend. It was organised during an international break, meaning the Wrexham game had been postponed, but the football club allowed our Canadian friends a tour of the ground and there was poutine available at The Turf.

At the pub we noticed a mop of grey hair with a massive smile underneath.

We found out his name was Jaco. He spoke in pidgin English and explained he was touring Europe with his son, trying to watch as many football matches as possible. He was gutted the Wrexham game was off.

He was a ball of energy, moving from person to person, constantly searching for his son to help translate. Then, when he saw Scoot, after following his story on Welcome to Wrexham, he went up another gear. He kept singing Scoot’s famous line from his song.

Like thousands of people across the world, Jaco had discovered Wrexham through Welcome to Wrexham. This wasn’t just another football match for him.

It was a pilgrimage.

He wanted to stand where he’d watched so many others stand. To experience the place he’d seen on his television back home in Argentina.

I spoke to Jaco about my love of fellow Argentine Marcelo Bielsa and that was it.

We’ve kept in touch ever since.

Mainly through Instagram. Just the odd message every few weeks.

Exactly how I like my friendships. 🤣

All was fine until a few months ago.

I received a message from our mutual friend David.

“Can you help get my friend a ticket for the Wrexham v Birmingham game?”

It was Jaco, who was coming over again, this time with his daughter.

I made the statement...

“At the end of the day, if he can’t find a ticket, he can use mine.”

I was offering him a guarantee.

Little did I know this would cause me so much anguish.

“Thank you for your ticket, my friend,” came the reply from Jaco.

“No problem, but try and get another one. This is a last resort.”

“No, no. I’m happy with your ticket. Thank you.”

“No, you don’t understand. I really want to go too, but if you can’t get a ticket, you can have mine.”

“Thank you. I’m happy to have your ticket.”

It was getting lost in translation.

I resigned myself to the fact that my good deed had resulted in me missing the Birmingham game.

Ah well.

I’ll take some pictures around the ground, I thought.

Think of the content, I thought.

Write a blog, I thought.

And then...

Joe, a friend of my son who sits next to us, announced he was working on the night of the Birmingham game.

Magic.

A solution had presented itself.

I explained the situation to Jaco. He sent me his membership number. I explained that he’d have to pay for the upgrade because Joe was in a different age category.

A week before the game, I thought we’d finally got it sorted.

Or so I thought.

Joe had problems upgrading the ticket, so he couldn’t send it over.

So close.

Yet so far.

On the morning of the game, we were still having problems.

It was just our luck that Wrexham had chosen the same week to introduce a new ticketing system.

I’d arranged to meet Joe at the ground to sort it out, but just as he checked his account, an upgrade button suddenly appeared.

He rang me.

The fact I was already standing outside the ticket office was now irrelevant.

Problem solved.

Or so we thought.

I immediately messaged Jaco.

“Check your account for your ticket.”

We were so close.

He’d just arrived in Wrexham, so I arranged to meet him at The Turf. He was also meeting Paul Jones, who I’d come to know through the Patagonia Reds page.

Now, Jaco is unforgettable with his floppy grey hair and bubbly demeanour.

I was just another face in thousands.

Because Jaco followed my gig photography Instagram page — a page that rarely features me — he had absolutely no idea what I looked like.

I stood right in front of him while he chatted to Paul and his daughter.

Every so often he looked up, smiled politely, then carried on talking.

Paul realised what was happening and burst out laughing.

Jaco looked completely confused.

“Do you know who this is?” Paul asked.

“No.”

“This is the bloke sorting your ticket.”

“Colin?????”

You could almost see the cogs turning.

“You’re the ticket man!”

Everyone laughed.

Everyone hugged.

We’d finally met.

Then I delivered the killer line.

“Go to your Wrexham account. Your ticket should be there.”

It was.

Almost.

He just needed to pay the £6 upgrade.

He found his bank card and tried to pay.

Another problem.

It wouldn’t work.

I tried to help.

The fact the Wrexham website was displaying everything in Spanish didn’t exactly make life easier, but between us we still couldn’t get the payment through.

I offered to use my card.

That didn’t work either.

Again...

So near.

Yet so far.

The ticket office was only a short walk away, so off we went.

On the way we talked about music, Argentine football, his trip and everything we’d chatted about over Instagram.

It was like our Instagram conversation had suddenly come to life.

As luck would have it, the girl behind the counter had only started that week.

To be fair to her, she did brilliantly.

Eventually a supervisor came over.

The problem turned out to be the website refusing an Argentinian bank card.

So I paid the £6 on mine.

Problem solved.

I thanked the staff and walked away.

Then I realised Jaco hadn’t understood.

“Check your emails,” I told him.

The look on his face when he saw the ticket...

I’ll never forget it.

He hugged me.

He got his phone out and excitedly started telling everyone.

I just stood there with a warm glow of achievement.

I’d helped create that happiness.

And somehow, his happiness had made me even happier.

We wandered back to The Turf.

Jaco was still telling people.

He was made up.

I was made up.

I left him to explore the town before heading off to photograph the players arriving.

And who was standing by the barriers with an Argentinian flag?

Jaco.

Still smiling.

Still beaming.

I took his picture.

His daughter stayed in The Turf during the match.

She wasn’t that bothered about the football.

He certainly was.

Unfortunately, the game itself never quite lived up to the story.

Wrexham weren’t at their best.

And if I’m honest, I don’t think the Wrexham Lager Stand is quite as excitable as the Argentinian crowds Jaco is used to.

But none of that mattered.

He’d got into the ground.

He’d seen Wrexham play.

And he even heard Wrexham fans singing “Argentina, Argentina” at the Birmingham supporters.

That confused him more than anything.

I walked out of the ground with Jaco.

We reached Crispin Lane, where we had to go our separate ways.

“I thank you,” he said, before giving me one last hug.

“Keep in touch,” I replied.

“I will, my friend.”

As he disappeared into the evening, I realised something.

Sometimes football isn’t about ninety minutes.

Sometimes it’s about the people it brings together.

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We are truly in the eye of the storm, but I’m filled with excitement with a tinge of regret at my decision to face the second onslaught. It’s 9.30pm in Wrexham town centre on a Monday night, and I’m sitting in a fairly quiet bar area of the Rockin’ Chair. 9pm is usually the time I’d be contemplating going to bed. The tinge of regret comes from the 5.30am alarm tomorrow morning. The excitement comes from the fact that I’m about to witness a repeat performance by provocative Belfast rap band Kneecap, and if it’s anything like the first show... well, it will justify my lethargic being tomorrow.

So who are Kneecap?

Let’s #AskAI.

“Kneecap are a Belfast rap trio mixing Irish and English lyrics, political provocation, dark humour and explosive live energy. Rooted in working-class Belfast and Irish-language culture, their music blends hip-hop, punk attitude and satire. They’re confrontational, funny, controversial and unapologetically outspoken, turning identity, politics and rebellion into entertainment.

Album launch shows are becoming more common now. A shorter set which adds value to your vinyl or CD purchase. Record store Jacaranda have farmed out some of these shows outside their usual Liverpool catchment area. One of those venues is the Rockin’ Chair in Wrexham, which is brilliant because artists who wouldn’t normally appear in such a small venue get to grace the stage.

I bought a ticket for this gig because different artists have their own media teams. I did sneak my Lumix in, just in case there was a picture opportunity.

With 30 minutes until stage time I got that magic message from the Chair’s owner, Kev.

“Have you got your camera? Their manager has said yes.”

Quick phone call to my partner and my camera was on its way.

What joy.

I did regret my idea of going back to my original spot in the crowd. I thought I’d get some better shots, but Kneecap’s lighting rig (it was all behind them) and the lack of face lights meant the number of great shots was minimal. I got some, but wanted more.

What surprised me most, though, was just how good they were live. Behind all the headlines and controversy is a band that know exactly how to work a crowd. Every pause, every drop and every chant felt perfectly timed. They weren’t just performing songs; they were orchestrating an atmosphere, and the audience responded to every second of it.

The band’s performance swept you along from the opening bars of Fontaines D.C.’s walk-on music right through to the final song. Every track was performed with gusto. The crowd lapped it up, and the atmosphere moved up a notch with each song.

We got the photographer’s favourite... crowd surfers. Nothing says a lively gig like a leg flailing through the air.

And of course we had the shouts of...

“Open up the pit!”

...which, to me, means...

Get your video camera out.

Seeing the balaclava-clad DJ Próvaí appear in the middle of the crowd raised the audience to fever pitch. It exploded on the bass.

Pandemonium.

Thirteen songs, mostly from the new album. The place was a hot, sweaty ball of electricity.

It’s 8.30pm.

The night has peaked.

The band leave the stage.

What a gig.

I see Kev, and it’s only polite that I thank him for getting my camera in.

He then drops the killer line.

“If you struggled to get many decent pictures, you can always stay for the next gig and go in the pit.”

Forget work.

Forget the 5.30am alarm.

There was only one decision to make.

Stay.

And I’m so glad I did.

I got some great shots of the second show and, somehow, whether it was the extra alcohol or simply knowing what was coming, this performance hit even greater heights. It’s not my genre, but I got completely swept along. I was bouncing through every song.

I got some great shots.

Some great videos.

And had a great time.

My son went to both gigs. His highlight was seeing his Tory Scum hat being worn during one song.

Even better...

He got it back.

As the band shouted after every song, it’s only fitting that I finish with the same words...

“Diolch yn fawr, Kneecap.”

This is right up there with the best gigs I’ve ever been to.

And I’m not even a rap fan.

Go figure.

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A few blogs ago, I had a bit of a rant.

It was about organisations not making the most of independent media.

This one is about the complete opposite.

Over the last couple of weekends, three completely different people have done exactly that.

They’ve opened the door.

And every one of them has benefited from it.

Guitar Olly

The first was Guitar Olly, or rather his parents.

I’m helping out with a charity project involving Olly and his family (more on that soon), and I was invited along to take photographs while we filmed some content.

Walking through town with him was surreal.

For a little while, I felt like I was part of an entourage.

Not because I thought I was important.

But because everyone else knew who Olly was.

As we left the studio, a lady suddenly shouted across the street.

“Olly is the best!”

She wanted everyone around her to know how talented he was. We carried on walking while she was still telling complete strangers how brilliant he was.

A few days later, with Ollys influence, I somehow managed to blag my way into the photographers’ pit at a major festival. It was a first for me. Then, disaster struck.

No spare batteries.

I’d left them at home.

Out came my little Lumix.

Instead of sulking, I stayed to photograph Roscoe. While waiting for them, I stumbled across a young band from Winsford called The Voke.

I’d never heard of them.

Within a few songs I’d made a note.

These lads deserve a Wrexham gig.

I’m already trying to get them on a bill at either The Parish or The Rockin’ Chair.

Sometimes the best discoveries happen by accident. The invite to the festival turned out mighty fine. Loads of content, loads of contacts.

Wrexfest

The second example is Wrexfest.

Brendan and the team at Wrexfest don’t just let me take photographs.

They encourage it.

They’ve given me complete freedom to document the festival however I want. On top of that, they’ve trusted me with my own stage to showcase up-and-coming bands at the Saith Seren.

Think about that for a moment.

They’re not worried about losing control of the story.

They understand that every photograph, every blog, every video and every interview reaches another audience.

That’s how events grow.

Kneecap

The third example came courtesy of Kev at the Rockin Chair.

Kneecap.

Probably one of the most talked-about bands around.

Photography access wasn’t straightforward.

Kev didn’t have to get involved.

But he did.

He pushed for me to get my camera into the venue and, eventually, I was given access to the photographers’ pit.

Again, somebody understood the value of independent media.

Not because I was doing them a favour.

Because we were helping each other.

The point

Three completely different people.

Three completely different events.

Three people who understood something that many organisations still don’t.

Independent media isn’t there to replace your own social media.

It’s there to amplify it.

Every audience is different.

Some people follow football.

Some follow music.

Some follow charities.

Some just follow WXM Weekly because they enjoy discovering what’s happening around the town.

The more people telling your story, the further that story travels.

That’s not competition.

That’s collaboration.

Sometimes all it takes is opening the door.

And if the last couple of weekends have taught me anything...

It’s that the people who do usually get the biggest rewards.

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From Ponciau Banks to the Racecourse

I stood and clapped.

I was proud.

I was proud to be there.

It was emotional because the team in front of us had just been beaten. Knocked out of the UEFA Women's Champions League. They thought they had failed. The fans, however, wouldn't let them think that. We, as a collective, kept clapping and cheering. These women ha…

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As organisations grow, many quite rightly invest in their own social med…

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It seems everyone is having their say about the WXM Fanzone account, so I thought I’d add my dealings with him/them.

At the end of the last promotion season, I was sent a drone video of the final minutes, with the crowd invasion. I stupidly posted the video without doing the relevant checks. I was a hypocrite because I too get content ‘borrowed’, and it …

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The humble potato. Few foods divide opinion quite like it. A simple veg, but one that seems to bring out so much emotion. Some people seem genuinely upset that someone has made a living by wrapping a potato in foil, baking it and serving it with different fillings. Or maybe they’re upset that someone has the audacity to film themselves cooking said pota…

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The last time I reviewed The Royston Club I made a bold statement. After a sell-out gig at the Victoria Warehouse I said, “That’s it, we’ll never see them play in Wrexham again until the Racecourse hosts them in a few years’ time.” Two days later, an “Everywhere, All at Once” festival announcement was released. The Royston Club were coming home to the v…

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It was one of our usual whinge sessions. We were bemoaning the lack of football. I was in the Butchers Market and I was talking to Rob Clarke. And the subject got around to “What shall we do next” and then Rob comes out with a cracking idea. Why don't we make some videos about historical sites in Wrexham. We talk about giving some facts, giving some jok…

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It started with a simple conversation in the Wrexham Library on Friday morning, it ended with me deep in the undergrowth, covered in scratches, in the Moss Valley. I sometimes wonder what goes on in my brain at times, but as soon as someone mentioned the disused railway tunnel between the Moss and Gwersllt, I knew I'd have to investigate.

The Annual Wrex…

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It started with a simple Photo of the front of the Butchers Market. I know a few teaders in there, so I know about most of the problems. I know the current Market strategy isn't working, and my Facebook page took off with people commenting on their own thoughts.

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Some pictures of Wrexham.

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I don't need to write many words this week. The pictures paint a thousand words. But, to be honest, after listening to John's heartbreaking stories of how he carries his son in his heart and now lives on for suicide prevention, we should use a thousand words . I say heartbreaking, but its also inspiring that this man can channel the hurt that I catch be…

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