The Connah Conundrum

Genealogy has always interested me, perhaps because Connah is an unusual surname, so it's always intrigued me that there's a town in North Wales called "Connah's Quay". A little internet research suggested that it might have been named after the local inn-keeper, part time smuggler and suspected murderer, James Connah. So buoyed on by the prospect of having someone so exciting in my past, and the thought of visiting my 'homeplace’ and having some sort of revelation, that's exactly what I did.

I was warned before I left, and I should have guessed from the rather lackadaisical use of the apostrophe in the name in the various signs around, but my undisguised optimism clouded rational thought. What I found was pretty grim, even the local Somerfield had an air of deep seated resentment about it. I’d hesitate to say that it was a northern version of Camborne, but Redruth would be a good and sadly valid comparison. But the town did at least provide a number of good opportunities for passing motorists to wonder why on earth some bloke was posing to have his photo taken next to the sign of the place they were getting out of.


So while Connah's Quay might well be in my family’s past, a rather large part of me has trouble thinking of it as being part of my future, which is a shame really.

Fortunately the same is not true of all of northern Wales. Admittedly, after the disappointment of Connah’s Quay we lurched straight into another at Colwyn Bay where, after walking a mile in search of a place to eat, I practically suffered from a near-life experience of rigor mortis waiting for perhaps the greasiest toasted sandwich I’ve ever had the fortune to consume. But things looked up afterwards when we motored on to Llandudno, a not-seaside town on the seaside. It’s a place that we used to visit each time we went up to Cheshire when I was younger, but one that seemed to give an entirely different impression to my ten-odd year older eyes. Unfortunately having squandered time in Connah’s Quay and Colwyn Bay we only had time to drive through the lovely Victorian town centre complete with old awnings and paved streets, and drive up the best bit about the place – the Great Orme. When I was younger, the best bit about this rather large hill (or maybe mountain) was that you could take a cable car or tram up it. Now, the best bit is the staggering view from the top where you can see right across the bay to Anglesea, or inland beyond the town to the mountains beyond. It was just a shame that there wasn’t more time to appreciate it all properly.



Just have to go back one-day I guess.