RIP - Colwyn J S Owens, (ORC, 48-56)

Colwyn John Sheldon Owens: Orchard 1948 - 1956

Born 29th October 1938 - Died 21st November 2024

TRIBUTE FROM STEPHEN OWENS

We all have a favourite Colwyn story.  A son of Llanelli, he was proud of his working class roots AND his Italian heritage.  Perhaps the most formative of his years were spent at Christ College, Brecon, along with his younger brother and best friend Ken. He played for the 1st XV (obtaining his colours) and 1st XI cricket. He was also in the shooting team! Ken, Henry and the rest of the Old Breconians here today will have memories of mischief, with everyone getting in trouble apart from “Horror”.

After school, Dad played rugby at the highest standard of the club game, representing his hometown Llanelli, Neath and Bath amongst others, and he was a proud Captain of Dinas Powys.

It was in his pomp as a player, and on his birthday, that he first met Mum at a dance in Llanelli.  Undoubtedly the best birthday present he ever received.  The wedding photos show a handsome, happy couple tying the knot and who could have imagined they would spend sixty-two years of marriage together, raising a family and building the life that touched so many.  They were together through thick and thin.

As a schoolmaster, Dad worked with the troubled and those with special needs.  To channel their energies his schools did regular trips to North Wales, sometimes in old army surplus trucks with failing brakes, but always living in vintage canvas tents.  This was the start of a love affair with the mountains that he would pass down through the family.  He continued to avoid all creature comforts when he took James and I on a trip, introducing strange new food experiences. Rice pudding eaten cold from the tin for breakfast and a full fried breakfast served with tinned plums instead of plum tomatoes.  We have so many memories.

At Overdale School, Nr. Hook.  he continued building skills and self-confidence in his pupils.  He travelled the length and breadth of Pembrokeshire setting up work experience for “his” kids, many of whom found full-time work through the programme.  He led them walking all 186 miles of the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path raising money for the school through sponsorship and donations.  He was similarly active raising money for charity with the Lions Club.  There always seemed to be a fete or a county show or something where he was shaking a bucket or running a stall.

Throughout he remained a family man, a proud and loving grandfather to Luke, Rebecca, Rhodri, Rhys and Gwawr.   A proud uncle to Helen and Kathryn, and father-in-law to Jackie and Irene.

Dad, we love you.  

TRIBUTE FROM JAMES OWENS

Dad was our Hero. Whatever he did, he did to the full. Rugby, Fishing, The Lions Club, Home brewing, Hill walking, Sailing and, in later life, Water Colour painting - all of them done with intent. Dad didn’t dabble – he wasn’t a dabbler.

Mum’s dining room went from fly tying workshop to micro brewery to art studio, in which she somehow had to fit in food times. Mum is our Hero too.

But Dad’s greatest love outside family was a lifelong interest in fly fishing. It was a hobby I was privileged to share with him. I was enthralled with Dad’s fishing from before I was old enough to fish. He would sometimes disappear for night fishing trips and I would wake early in the morning and run to Mum and Dad’s bedroom (I am sure they were delighted to see me!), and ask Dad ‘Have you caught anything?’ ‘Go and look’ he would say. I knew exactly where to go in the fridge, the tray below the icebox where a brace or more of silver sewin would often be waiting. I thought it was magical.

So, as soon as I was old enough I went fishing with him - first bait fishing while I watched Dad fly fish and then, one Christmas when I was 8 or 9, I had my first fly rod … I still have it. I’ll never forget that Christmas morning Dad walked me to the park … surrounded by other children with their new bikes and scooters. There, Dad gave me my first fly fishing lesson with plenty of feedback - Dad was good at feedback! I became a bit of a sideshow that Christmas morning to slightly bemused onlookers – with one wag saying ‘You won’t catch much there fella’ as I cast the line onto the grass … But never mind I could fly fish with Dad!

So started our fishing adventures that we kept up with at least an annual fishing trip to lakes in Wales and England and, on his 70th Birthday, to the fabled Loch Corrib in the West of Ireland … where we nearly sank! I have so many happy memories of our hours together - mostly fishing, sometimes debating and, occasionally, catching.

When Dad was unable to fish in later life, he was always disappointed I stopped going too. ‘No plans for a fishing trip then James?’ he would often say.

Dad, thank you for everything you have given me and our family. I will go fishing again and, when I do, you will be with me in every cast.