Teacher walks to his death, surrounded by town

by Kym on April 24, 2011

Today the teacher walked slowly and painfully to his death. Surrounded by people from the town of his birth, he walked slowly, falling several times in the agonising crawl towards the Four Winds roundabout, where ICU technicians were painstakingly building a site for his execution. We gathered footage from the route.

  • Dawkin’s Nutsack

    Hey people, the Bible is cool and relevant.

  • Mazziemo

    The whole experience is something I will never forget and I will never forget Port Talbot. It was wonderful experience The Passion BUT also to experience the lovely lovely people of Port Talbot and the folks who helped make the experience unforgettable. Well done Port Talbot I hope to come back again

  • ElizR

    Followed the procession from town to the beach front – the experience was unforgettable. The emotion of seeing him carry that cross and then being helped some of the way. The turn out along the route was incredible. The scene in the shopping centre being bathed by his mother was so serene.

  • MorMunyddDragon

    I know the seas of Pembrookshire are clear and clean and blue,
    Glamorgan seas are muddy tramps and streaked with coal dust too,
    But beauty’s in the eyes they say, of those who look with care,
    Glamorgan seas are my seas and so to me they’re fair.

    Eryrie and her sister hills rise upward with the lark,
    Glamorgan hills have gaping wounds and labour in the dark,
    But from the blackness of their depths come warmth and light and song,
    And Glamorgan hills are my hills and I to them belong

    Men praise the Vales of Towe and Llangollan and the rest,
    But Golden is Glamorgan Vale and gentle is her breast ,
    And o’er terraced house and cottages the winds a singing roam,
    You tread the earth you fathers trod and here your heart is home .

    My grandfather told me this poem when I was a child, growing up in the shadow of the steel works – So I thought I’d share it because it, like The Passion, reminds me so much of home- as things used to be … in those days of swimming lessons in the Lido , marching along the prom with the rest of Aberafan swimming club, catching ducks at the fair, watching family take part in what we called ‘Margam-amagau’ – the passion play – rain or shine … the building of the Canolvan & the motorway, moving Groes village’s round Chappell ( so the devil couldn’t hide in the corners) and even visiting Granddad Ifor Jones , watching the big ships at the docks through a gap in the frosted window of the mission to seamen – only accessible if we little ones stood on a stool
    We were visiting Mam for Easter, so want to say thanks for the privilege of being able come home to join in the Passion and remember .

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