Friday’s memorial service for Penny Condry was a sombre occasion. It took place in the beautifully restored chapel – Y Tabernacl – part of the Museum of Modern Art in Machynlleth. To my surprise, it took the form of a Quaker meeting, where attenders sat in silence. Over a period of an hour, individuals rose to read short prepared pieces about Penny, or spoke spontaneously of their memories or feelings about her – many being close to tears, including myself. The silence between each contribution allowed everyone present to process the memories that the speakers had evoked, even if they themselves did not speak.
Penny was 102 years old when she died last month. I had known her since the 1980’s when I first visited her husband Bill, who was the warden of the RSPB’s reserve at Ynyshir, between Machynlleth and Aberystwyth. He was also a writer of some renown, about whom I will say more later. I’m not going to pretend that I was close to the Condrys at that time. My memories of Penny on those first visits are limited to her being someone who brought forth pots of tea and home-made cakes. She had devoted her life to supporting him in his career as teacher, author and pioneer in the field of conservation. She had been there while the environmental issues in Wales of the day were being discussed by Bill and his friends, wildlife enthusiasts all. I was then able to sit in the same rather gracious sitting room where these discussions had taken place. In their personal lives, Bill and Penny had put their green ideals into practice long before it became commonplace to do so. But Penny was not a woman who enjoyed the limelight.
That did change somewhat after Bill died in 1998. He had written a “Country Diary” for the Guardian every fortnight for over forty years. I came up with the idea of selecting some of these pieces and combining each one with one of my own photographs, and my publisher (Bill’s also) liked the idea. This could never have gone ahead without Penny’s approval and she gave it without hesitation. This proved to be the beginning of a closer relationship, which probably deepened when I wrote in my introduction to the book that I had been more affected by Bill’s life and death than my own father’s. I sometimes wondered if she saw me as the son that she had never had. She missed Bill deeply and would often talk about him on my visits, sometimes as if he was still there. She recalled the nitty gritty of the world of conservation in Wales which Bill never talked about in his books. How I wish I had been able to record those conversations for posterity, because all those insights will now be lost forever. Bill himself wrote that “the story of my unadventurous life would not be of the slightest interest to anybody…” How wrong he was.
Penny was not one to bother herself with trivia. She loved her garden, was very knowledgeable about natural history, and genuinely interested in other people. Her opening gambit was often “How are you ???” and it felt like she really wanted and needed to know. Another was “Are you happy???” or “Is Jane happy???” referring to my partner in later years. At the memorial others spoke of her becoming a Quaker and her dedication to the Merched y Wawr (Women’s Institute) in her local village of Eglwysfach. As her health slowly deteriorated she became increasingly anxious. She wondered how long she would be able to survive on her own in a rambling and isolated house at the end of a half mile long track. But she had some very good friends who kept an eye on her and did the heavy lifting in the garden. Arthur Chater, for many years the botanical recorder for Ceredigion, and lifelong friend of the Condrys, took her shopping on market day in Machynlleth every week. I sometimes met them there.
Inevitably the time came when she became too frail to live on her own. She moved into a nursing home near Aberystwyth, but it didn’t suit her. It was never likely to suit someone so much of whose life was spent outdoors. I visited her there a few times and she told me she hoped death would soon come and take her away. But there was one final surprise in store. During the decades I had known them neither Bill nor Penny had let me take their photograph. They were both camera-shy but particularly Penny. (I can identify with them in that respect……) On the wall of her room was a framed portrait of both of them taken many years ago. I showed an interest in it and out of the blue Penny just gave it to me! This was very thoughtful but, on reflection, I thought she might regret it. So I re-photographed it, processed it and returned it. It’s the photograph at the top of this post. I shall treasure it for the rest of my life.
There’s just one more thing. In Penny’s time the role of most women was to support their husbands, and she did this very effectively, allowing Bill to fully reach his potential. But I can’t help wondering what Penny might have become had she been born, say, fifty years later, by which time women were encouraged and expected to have lives and careers of their own. She certainly had the potential to go far.
I will talk about more about Bill in Part two..
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