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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