Professor Anthony Martyn Barnett

I was born in 1943 in Llanfrechfa Grange, a wartime nursing home in Caerleon, and brought home to Blaenavon. I always picture Blaenavon from up around the Rifleman’s Arms on the Abergavenny Rd looking down as the mists and clouds swirl over the valley immediately below and over the middle and distant hills beyond. Given the following ancestral lineage, I guess I can claim to be a Blaenavon boy. 

Ancestry 

 My father Douglas Albert BARNETT was born on 31 Dec. 1917 in Hastings, UK, he married my mother Muriel BARNETT [nee EVANS] on 20 Apr. 1942 in Helensburgh, Scotland and died on 21 Dec. 2002 in Toowoomba, Queensland Australia

 My mother Muriel BARNETT [nee EVANS] was born on 19 Sep. 1918 in Blaenavon, and died in Aug. 2001 in Toowoomba, Queensland, Australia. A portion of her ashes were spread on the family grave at Varteg Rd Cemetery, Blaenavon.

 My grandfather Charles EVANS was born on 23 Oct. 1889 in Blaenavon, Llanover Upper,  He married Rachel Ann EVANS [nee WILLIAMS] in Sep. 1914 in Blaenavon and died on 26 Dec. 1963, Burial Varteg Rd Cemetery, Blaenavon, 31 Dec 1963. Occupations included Coal Miner, including a stint in Big Pit, a publican and a farmer. He lived with my grandmother at Ty Fry farm, Blaenavon for the greater portion of his life.

 My grandmother Rachel Ann EVANS [nee WILLIAMS]  was born on 14 Jan. 1890 in Blaenavon, and died on 15 May 1970 in Caerleon, Pontypool, Burial Varteg Rd Cemetery, Blaenavon, 19 May 1970

 My great-grandfather Obadiah EVANS was born in 1856 in Blaenavon, he married Ann EVANS [nee TUCK] in 1880 in Blaenavon and died on 29 Jan. 1924 in Blaenavon. Occupation Coal Miner

 My great-grandmother Ann EVANS [nee TUCK] was born in 1862 in Blaenavon, and died on 20 Jul. 1900 in Blaenavon,

 My great-grandfather Howell Howells WILLIAMS was born on 6 Sep. 1863 in Blaenavon, he married Sarah Ann WILLIAMS [nee PROSSER] on 31 Oct. 1887 in Llanfoist, Monmouthsire and died on 25 Aug. 1913 in Blaenavon,

 My Great-grandmother Sarah Ann WILLIAMS [nee PROSSER] was born in 1868 and died in 1940 (believed to be in Blaenavon)

 My great great-grandfather Robert Parker EVANS was born in 1835 in Bitton, Gloucestershire, he married Mary Ann EVANS [nee STOCK] and died in 1887 in Blaenavon,

 My Great great-grandmother Mary Ann EVANS [nee STOCK] was born in 1839 in Bedminster, Somerset, England and died in 1879 in Blaenavon

 My other great great-grandfather John WILLIAMS was born on 8 Apr. 1831 in Blaenavon, he married Ann WILLIAMS [nee HOWELLS] and died in 1898 in Blaenavon.

 My other Great great-grandmother Ann WILLIAMS [HOWELLS] was born on 2 Nov. 1834 in Blaenavon, and died in 1876 in Blaenavon

 My other Great great-grandmother Rachel PROSSER [nee JENKINS] was born in 1834 in Blaenavon, and died on 2 Feb. 1902 in Blaenavon

 

Early Life

My father was on active service in France when I was born.  Enemy aircraft strafed his company’s tented camp and over ninety percent of his comrades died in the attack, he was wounded and spent six months in ambulances and make shift medical camps before being brought back to Wales and formally discharged on medical grounds. He rarely talked about the war and never attended any remembrance parades – I believe he suffered for many years from what today would be called survivor’s syndrome. I was nearly nine months old before he first saw me. 

My first recollections of Blaenavon are briefly living at my grandparents Ty Fry farm (end of laneway off junction of Upper Coed Cae Road and Upper Hill St / Woodland St). On a visit in 2006, the tree by the old style that I used to climb as a boy was still there and we scattered a portion of my parent’s ashes under that tree. The old farmhouse and barn were made of stone and mud walls which were 2 to 3 feet thick in places, early maps showed the building origins to be about 500 years old. I was saddened to discover it, and its history, had been demolished for new housing. One of my other earlier recollections was attending Hillside Nursery School, adjacent to Ty Fry farm, and being passed over the fence by my grandfather rather than walk around to the entrance. It’s rather incredible to think it is still there. 

Forge Side

When I was about two or three we moved to Allgood Avenue, Forge Side (the houses are now demolished).  I attended Forge Side County School (headmaster L H Hayward) and always remember I was a poor reader, not being able to read effectively until I was about eight or nine years old. We passed by the outer walls of the Big Pit complex every day going to school without knowing anything about its significance or history and would not have dreamed of its current heritage listing. Both my grandfather and uncle (Idwal Evans) worked underground at Big Pit for some periods of their life. 

Agricultural Blaenavon

Life was a bit of a struggle in those days. I recall my grandfather working incredibly long hours at the farm, especially during hay harvesting period where 17 to 18 hours working per day were the norm. Wastage was minimised and almost everything was made from something else. My time spent on the farm developed an endearing respect and understanding of animalsand their place in the world. My grandfather would go for 48 hours without sleep to nurture a sick calf but think little of having another one butchered for meat. Cruelty to animals was off the agenda but humanely killing them for food was acceptable – that particular ethic has stayed with me. Visits to Abergavenny’s Tuesday cattle and produce market were generally a must (especially for me in the holidays). My father was almost always working away from home and visited us about ever second weekend or so. He was a carpenter by trade and had to constantly travel to where there were opportunities for normal work plus overtime, which was mostly in England at that time. When he was home at weekends he was a keen gardener and we always had something growing in the vegetable patch as did most families in those days. He went on in later years to become a Clerk of Works at the then Cwmbran New Town development where a street has been named after him. 

This hard work ethic and need to travel to take advantages of opportunities, both of which surrounded me as a young boy, obviously rubbed off on me. On reflection, I still find it sad to see families who constantly strive to create financial security during their lifetime die before they can take advantage of it. Easy money is never appreciated as much as hard earned money. 

After leaving Blaenavon for Pembrokeshire I still spent most of the school holidays at Ty Fry farm.

Nearly all the farmers in the region were varied livestock farmers with few crops grown due to the unsuitable climate. In post war ration years, my grandfather was required to grow one field of wheat. The crops were not very successful, but it made a contribution which was important. Hay was of course harvested each year as it supplied the winter food for the animals. Hay making was revolutionised by the purchase of our first Fordson tractor. I was driving it from about nine years of age. I also had the unpleasant task of being on top of the hay in the barn, pushing the swathes into place whist being constantly fed with more hay from the relentless hay forks unloading the gambo (as we called the cart). I bore many a bruise, not to mention choking on the hay dust as we neared the roof of the barn.

Farmers who bred cattle in particular on the hill farms, received a government subsidy in addition to the selling price when the stock was sold to low land farmers (generally at Abergavenny market). This subsidy made breeding cattle a significantly more viable proposition. At Ty Fry farm, we had milking cows, beef cattle, pigs, geese, ducks, chickens, horses, a few goats and my grandfather's racing and tumbler pigeons. One of the unwritten rules was that farmers never, or very rarely, killed their own larger livestock. A neighbouring farmer would carry out the task. The rationale was that having bred the animal; there may be some last minute remorse which could lead to a mistake with dangerous consequences. However, I learned to humanely dispatch chickens, ducks and geese for Christmas fare at an early age.

 Every year in spring the fair would arrive and tents and stalls pitched in the farm's bottom field. Most of the townspeople would turn up to enjoy the rides and general fun of the fair. After about a month the grass pastures would to return to normal and hay would grow for the annual harvest.

My grandmother made her own butter, cheese, cooking fat, bread, pickles, jams and other staples. Whole sides of bacon were salted and kept for several months, as well as many organically grown root crops and vegetables from the home garden, in the cold, walk-in, stone walled pantry. Among my chores in winter was to rise early, in the pitch dark, and break the ice on the surface of all the drinking troughs, then to boil water on the back stove to prepare the 'meal' for the chickens and other livestock. Pigs ate just about anything that no other animals or humans wanted. My grandfather taught me it was easier to buy than sell, and he also introduced me to the concept of retail subdivision. Many times I witnessed him in awe at Abergavenny markets - buying a group of cattle in one lot, and then with a swift signal to the auctioneer, he would have them returned to the selling ring and sold one by one at a considerable profit. The negotiation skills he taught me have been extremely useful, and profitable, in my lifetime.

Random Recollections

Some of my other random recollections of Blaenavon are coal miners coming off their shift, with coal dust ingrained in their skin, walking up Broad St and stopping ever 50 yards or so to take a breath, some would have only been in their thirties but the coal dust had obviously claimed another victim. Visits to the hospital outpatients in those early days generally resulted in a bottle of red coloured medicine being prescribed. Must have been the panacea for all ailments!  Also walking from Allgood Ave to the farm, down the hill and then past the ‘prefabs’ and up the hill. Almost inevitable on the way back my father would carry me on his shoulders – no taxis in those days! My grandmother always did her weekly grocery shopping at ‘The Co-operative’ in Ivor St (yes it’s still there!) and took everything home up the hill in one bag-not the 8 or 10 bags in the boot as is the norm today. The local pub frequented by my father and uncle is now the Butterflies Restaurant and Bar. I remember being called into assembly at Forge Side School on the 6^th February 1952 and the headmaster very sombrely directing us to listen to the news on the radio: King George VI had died. Many years later on 22 November 1963, I was visiting the farm when my grandfather walked into the room in complete shock: John F. Kennedy had been assassinated.

Life Away From Blaenavon

When I was nine, we moved to Pembrokeshire. I passed the dreaded 11+ exam and went to Milford Haven Grammar School. From there to London University for a BSc in Engineering, thence to Australia and gained a doctorate, PhD in Engineering Science, thence various executive roles in the building construction industry and in the process became a Chartered Builder. Gained an Honours degree in Law in my early forties (yes whilst also working full time) and went on to be Australia’s first Professor in Project Management and subsequently Executive Dean and Professor of Business. I have travelled extensively throughout Australia and the world to achieve these outcomes and I still have a Welsh accent. I am currently Chairman and CEO of a number of private companies.

Blaenavon remains an anchor point in my life. So much has changed for me since I left Blaenavon and the continuous pace of change in the world is often exhausting in the extreme and yet for me Blaenavon lives on much as it did when I was a young boy with most people living happy lives with perhaps some sad ones mixed in, living in the same houses and utilising the same buildings. Please, this is not a criticism but a reflection of envy on my behalf. Sure there may be many other places in the world that would fit the same description but no one could deny my roots are well and truly embedded in Blaenavon and that makes it special for me.

I am married, have four grown up children in Australia by a previous marriage and now live on a farm in Queensland called “Cym Arian”, named by the previous Welsh owner. The farm buildings are situated on top of a mountain with a view, similar that from Pwlldu, where looking down the mists and clouds swirl around the valley immediately below and over the middle and distant hills beyond. Perhaps what goes around comes around after all, excepting perhaps that we now get some 300+ days of clear sunshine as well!

To get in touch please email CEO@barnett.com.au