Our speaker at the Paulton History Society for the evening was Steve Hodges, a resident of Coleford, who had spent a considerable amount of time researching the history of his village, apparently including the period of Covid, when he occupied himself by writing a book. The book is called Coleford – A Village Somewhere in Somerset. From the outset it was clear that this was not going to be an ordinary historical lecture. Steve was a retired local authority principal mechanical, electrical and energy engineer, a chartered environmentalist and a man who had served in senior positions in various professional organisations. He had also advised the government on energy matters and was a Freeman of the City of London, a distinction which, he informed us with some satisfaction, had enabled him to drive sheep across London Bridge. He added that if he were ever to be hanged, he was entitled to a silk rope, which would presumably make the experience rather more comfortable.

Steve’s presentation was a mixture of serious historical investigation, outspoken opinions, technical explanations and an almost continuous stream of jokes and personal observations. He encouraged members of the audience to interrupt him if they disagreed with anything he said, and several took him at his word. He was particularly scathing about historians who repeated information without checking the original sources. In his view, a statement did not become true simply because it appeared in a book, on a map or in an official document. He gave the example of mapmakers deliberately inserting small errors into their publications so that unauthorised copies could be identified. This was a useful reminder that even apparently authoritative sources require careful examination.

One of Steve’s favourite expressions might have been that history should never be taken at face value. He had evidently spent many hours comparing old maps, documents, photographs and physical remains, and he was not afraid to challenge established interpretations. Occasionally his language became rather colourful, particularly when discussing landowners, politicians or historians whose conclusions he considered mistaken. However, beneath the humour and occasional indignation was a serious determination to discover what had actually happened in this small corner of Somerset.

The Mystery of Coleford’s Origins

Steve began by challenging the commonly repeated claim that Coleford appeared in the Domesday Book of 1086. According to his research, this was a case of mistaken identity. There were several settlements called Coleford in different parts of England, including examples in Gloucestershire and Devon, and confusion had arisen over references to a similarly named settlement in Somerset. He explained that the distribution of land following the Norman Conquest had further complicated matters, since the same landowner might possess estates in several locations. Later historians had apparently seen the name Coleford in an early document and assumed that it referred to the village we know today.

Steve maintained that the modern settlement of Coleford did not really begin to emerge until approximately the middle or latter part of the seventeenth century. This was quite a challenge to some accepted local histories, and he was particularly critical of writers who had failed to distinguish between Coleford and the older settlement of Cloford. He also referred to claims about ancient mills and supposed connections with the Knights Templar, suggesting that much of what had been published was based on misunderstandings or insufficient research.

He illustrated his argument with a series of old maps, pointing out that Coleford was conspicuous by its absence from many of them. Nearby places such as Mells, Holcombe, Kilmersdon and Hemington were clearly marked, yet Coleford was either missing or appeared only in much later documents. He drew attention to the fascinating variations in the spelling of local place names, reminding us that standardised spelling was a relatively recent development. Even the familiar Somerset fingerposts provided an opportunity for a digression. Many had been removed during the Second World War to confuse an invading enemy, but Somerset was among the counties which subsequently restored them. Some still bear the names of the foundries where they were manufactured.

From Prehistoric Times to the Duke of Monmouth

Although Steve questioned the antiquity of Coleford as a village, he did not suggest that the surrounding area had been entirely uninhabited. He referred to the discovery of a prehistoric stone axe, now preserved in the Somerset heritage collections, which indicated human activity in the area many thousands of years ago. There was also evidence of Roman activity, including what he believed to be early mining remains visible in aerial photographs near Brickhouse Farm. These features appeared as small depressions or humps in the landscape, and he suggested that they might represent primitive bell pits.

He then introduced a rather intriguing possibility concerning the Duke of Monmouth’s rebellion in 1685. By examining the route of Monmouth’s army as it travelled across Somerset, Steve suggested that the soldiers might have passed through the Coleford area on their way towards Shepton Mallet. There were indications of a chapel or altar having existed near the mill, and he wondered whether soldiers who stopped in the area might have contributed to the beginnings of a permanent settlement. Nearby cottages dated from the late seventeenth century, which made the suggestion at least chronologically possible.

Steve was careful to describe this as speculation rather than established fact. Nevertheless, it illustrated the way in which he approached local history, combining documentary evidence with geography, physical remains and a willingness to consider explanations which might not have occurred to previous writers. He seemed to enjoy asking questions almost as much as finding answers.

Coal – The Foundation of Coleford’s Prosperity

We then turned to the substance which had shaped so much of Coleford’s history: coal. Steve reminded us that coal had been used as a fuel for centuries, long before the Industrial Revolution, although the development of steam power transformed both the scale of demand and the methods of extraction. Coal was a sedimentary rock composed largely of carbon, formed from ancient vegetation subjected to heat and pressure over immense periods of geological time. It became one of the essential foundations of Britain’s industrial development, providing fuel for factories, ironworks, transport and domestic heating.

Mining had been taking place in parts of Somerset long before Coleford developed into a substantial mining settlement. Steve referred to workings around Stratton dating back to approximately 1300, while suggesting that significant mining in the immediate Coleford area began around 1710. Earlier extraction might have taken place from shallow pits, particularly around Shepherd’s Ridge, but documentary evidence was less certain. He showed photographs of the landscape where old workings had left behind ponds, depressions and other irregularities which might easily be overlooked by someone unfamiliar with the area’s industrial past.

The earliest mining methods were remarkably simple. In a bell pit, miners excavated a vertical shaft until they reached a seam of coal and then worked outwards, creating a bell-shaped underground cavity. Once the coal within reach had been removed, the pit was abandoned and another shaft dug nearby. Drift mines were entered horizontally through the side of a hill, following the seam into the ground. These methods were relatively inexpensive but could be extremely dangerous, particularly where ventilation was poor or the ground unstable. The legacy of such workings remains beneath parts of Coleford today.

The Landowners Who Controlled Everything

As the industry expanded, coal mining became increasingly profitable for those who owned the land and controlled the mineral rights. Steve mentioned several influential families, including the Fussells, the Jolliffes and other substantial landowners whose estates covered much of the surrounding countryside. The Fussell family were particularly associated with ironworking, but their commercial interests extended into coal, transport and other industries. Coal Barton Colliery became one of the important local enterprises.

The financial arrangements were heavily weighted in favour of the owners. A mine operator might have to pay rent for the land, royalties for every tonne of coal extracted and additional charges for transporting it across roads or property belonging to the estate. Steve described how John Twyford Jolliffe, for example, received payments connected with the operation of Coal Barton Colliery. The landowners could therefore derive considerable income without personally enduring any of the physical hardships involved in extracting the coal.

Steve was clearly angered by the contrast between the wealth accumulated by the owners and the poverty endured by many mining families. He reminded us that Britain’s industrial prosperity had been built upon a workforce which frequently had little bargaining power and few alternatives to dangerous employment. It was easy to admire the achievements of the Industrial Revolution but considerably less comfortable to consider the human price paid by those whose labour made it possible.

The Great Transport Problem

Coal was of little commercial value unless it could be transported economically to customers. This was one of the major difficulties facing the Somerset coalfield. The countryside around Coleford was hilly, and moving heavy loads by horse and cart was slow, expensive and physically demanding. Steve showed old illustrations of coal wagons struggling along steep roads and explained how local entrepreneurs had sought better ways of reaching markets.

One possible route was a roadway known as the Flurry Way or Furway, which Steve believed had been used to carry coal towards the wider road network. He showed how the route connected Coleford with neighbouring settlements and suggested that its name might be associated with an old landholding. He acknowledged that some historians had disputed its existence, but he believed the surviving evidence supported his interpretation.

The Somerset Coal Canal represented a much more ambitious solution. The original ideas were connected with proposals for an inland waterway linking Bristol with the south coast, avoiding the dangerous sea passage around Land’s End. Attention subsequently turned to the commercial advantages of connecting the Somerset coal mines with the wider canal system. In theory, a canal could carry large quantities of coal far more cheaply than horse-drawn wagons.

Unfortunately, the promoters encountered the familiar problems of finance, engineering and landownership. Steve described how landowners demanded changes to the proposed route, sometimes because they did not want a canal passing too close to their houses or estates. Others insisted upon special privileges, reduced charges or free passage for their own boats. The resulting deviations increased construction costs and made an already difficult project even more complicated.

He also referred to the Bastard brothers, John and William, whose surname provided him with considerable comic material. They were involved in the building trade and were associated with disputes over the proposed route. Steve delighted in explaining that although the name might sound like an insult, it was perfectly legitimate to refer to them as the Bastards.

The canal eventually suffered from financial difficulties and incomplete construction. Steve showed sections which had survived, together with abandoned cuttings, tunnels and routes which had subsequently been filled in or built over. At Coleford, part of a former canal cutting had even been used for dumping rubbish before modern refuse collection became established. Later proposals for railway connections also failed to provide the transport infrastructure which the local coal industry desperately needed.

By the later nineteenth century, the lack of adequate transport connections had become a serious disadvantage. Steve argued that this contributed substantially to the closure of several collieries in the western part of the Somerset coalfield by around 1880. The coal was still there, but the economics of extracting and moving it had become increasingly unfavourable.

The Miners – A Life of Hardship and Danger

The most powerful part of Steve’s presentation concerned the people who actually worked underground. He described conditions which were difficult to reconcile with the enormous wealth generated by the coal industry. Miners were often isolated geographically and socially from the wider population, living in communities where employment, housing and much of everyday life depended upon the mine owners.

Steve referred to earlier systems under which miners in some parts of Britain had been tied to their employment in conditions resembling serfdom. Workers could be bound to a mine, with restrictions upon their ability to leave or seek alternative employment. In some circumstances the obligations extended to their families. He described the use of identifying collars and the severe penalties which could follow attempts to escape from such arrangements. Although these practices belonged to earlier periods and varied between mining districts, they demonstrated the extent to which miners had once been treated almost as property.

Even after such systems were abolished, working conditions remained appalling. Underground passages were frequently low and narrow, ventilation was inadequate and the risk of explosions from accumulated gas was ever present. Some mines relied upon fires at the bottom of ventilation shafts to create the movement of air through the workings. The arrangement was ingenious but obviously dangerous in an environment where explosive gases might accumulate.

Miners were also vulnerable to flooding, falling rock, equipment failures and the long-term effects of inhaling coal dust. Steve suggested that many workers experienced serious deterioration in health by the age of forty or forty-five. Their bodies had become accustomed to years of stooping, crawling and heavy physical labour, making it difficult for them to undertake other occupations even if the opportunity arose.

Children in the Mines – The Evidence of 1842

Steve had arranged for three members of the audience to read historical material at appropriate points in his presentation. This was a particularly effective device because it allowed the words of earlier witnesses and politicians to speak for themselves.

The first reading concerned an official investigation carried out in 1842 into the employment of children and young people in the coal mines of North Somerset. The evidence related to Coal Barton Colliery and described a workforce of approximately one hundred people, around half of whom were under eighteen. There were reportedly about twenty children under ten, with some boys as young as seven.

The children were employed in tasks such as opening and closing ventilation doors, which controlled the movement of air through the underground passages. Although this might sound less demanding than cutting coal, it meant spending long periods in darkness and isolation, with the constant possibility of danger from gas, fire or collapsing workings. The report described an incident in which five people had been burned in a single day, one of whom subsequently died.

The evidence also referred to respiratory illnesses and the premature physical decline of miners. The men were said to be generally strong while young but frequently suffered serious health problems by middle age. Very few older men remained capable of continuing underground work. The report suggested that miners who had spent their lives stooping in cramped passages often found it difficult to adapt to other kinds of labour.

What made the reading particularly disturbing was the relatively detached language in which these conditions were recorded. The employment of very young children, exposure to explosive gases and the prospect of an early death appeared almost as ordinary features of industrial life. It was a sobering reminder of how recently society had tolerated working conditions which we would now regard as entirely unacceptable.

The Guss – An Instrument of Torture?

The second reading took us forward to 1926 and a debate in the House of Commons. By this time Britain had experienced generations of industrial reform, yet the evidence presented to Parliament suggested that some miners were still enduring extraordinarily primitive conditions.

The subject was a device known as a guss, consisting of ropes and chains attached around the body so that a miner could drag a tub of coal through passages too narrow for a horse or pit pony. The rope passed around the waist, while a chain ran between the legs and connected to the tub. The miner then pulled the load forward, sometimes crawling on his stomach through extremely confined spaces.

The parliamentary speaker described how the rope rubbed against the flesh, causing abrasions and injuries. When the equipment became wet, the discomfort could be even worse. Some miners had to put on damp ropes at the beginning of the following day’s shift, knowing that the friction would reopen existing wounds. One account referred to a passage with only nine inches between floor and roof, through which the miner had to drag his load.

The speaker had brought an example of the equipment into the House of Commons so that members could see exactly what was being discussed. It was not an account of conditions in the distant eighteenth century but evidence of practices which, according to the debate, were still being used in April 1926.

Steve was clearly indignant that such methods had survived into the twentieth century. The contrast between the comfortable surroundings of Parliament and the physical suffering of miners crawling through underground passages could hardly have been greater.

Parliament Defends the Mine Owners

The third reading presented the response of another parliamentary speaker who challenged the allegations. He argued that there had been no recorded compensation claims arising from injuries caused by the equipment and suggested that the distances over which the coal had to be dragged were relatively short. He also expressed confidence in the humanity of the Somerset mine owners and questioned whether the conditions were as severe as had been claimed.

The contrast between the two accounts was striking. On one side were descriptions of men whose bodies were being injured by the equipment they were compelled to use. On the other was a defence based largely upon the absence of formal complaints and confidence in the employers’ good intentions.

Steve was not impressed by the latter argument. He reminded us that the exchanges were recorded in Hansard and could be consulted as part of the official parliamentary record. His purpose in arranging the readings was evidently to demonstrate how the experiences of ordinary workers could be minimised or dismissed by those speaking on behalf of powerful commercial interests.

For me, this was perhaps the most memorable part of the evening. It is one thing to read that mining was dangerous and unpleasant, but quite another to hear detailed contemporary descriptions of the equipment, injuries and working conditions. The readings gave a human dimension to what might otherwise have remained a collection of industrial statistics.

The Closure of Newbury Colliery

Steve then traced the decline of the local coal industry. Newbury Colliery, one of the principal mines serving Coleford, closed in August 1927. According to a contemporary newspaper report quoted by Steve, the miners first learned of the closure when they arrived for work after a bank holiday and discovered that the mine was shut.

The colliery was more than two hundred metres deep and had suffered from problems including water entering the workings. Maintaining such a mine was expensive, particularly when coal prices and transport difficulties reduced profitability. The closure brought considerable hardship to the local workforce and their families.

Some of the displaced miners subsequently moved to South Wales, where their knowledge of mining techniques was valued. Steve mentioned the engineer Thomas Dyne Steel, who recognised that Somerset miners had experience of the longwall system of extraction, which could improve productivity in Welsh collieries. He showed a photograph of a group of men who had made the move, illustrating how the decline of one coalfield could contribute to the development of another.

It was another reminder that industrial history is also the history of migration. Families who had lived in the same Somerset communities for generations sometimes had to leave their homes in search of employment elsewhere.

Charmborough – Somerset’s Last New Coal Mine

Although Newbury closed in 1927, coal mining in the Coleford area did not end there. Steve described the development of Charmborough Colliery, which he identified as the last coal mine to open in Somerset. The enterprise was associated with the Beauchamp family, whose interests already included quarrying and other industrial activities.

Charmborough was a drift mine, entered through a sloping passage extending approximately half a kilometre underground. Electric equipment was used to haul the coal tubs, reflecting improvements in mining technology. The owners had ambitious production targets, but the early years were hampered by geological faults, flooding and industrial disputes.

Production increased during the Second World War, when the demand for coal was particularly high. Steve said that by 1940 the workforce had risen to about forty-five men, with annual output reaching approximately five thousand tons. Production later peaked at nearly eight thousand tons in 1946.

Following nationalisation of the coal industry in 1947, the mine passed into the control of the National Coal Board and subsequently closed. Steve showed photographs of what remained and explained that some older Coleford residents could still remember relatives who had worked there. He also recalled local coal merchants who obtained supplies from the colliery for distribution around the village.

The Hidden Danger Beneath Coleford

One might imagine that the closure of the mines brought the industrial chapter of Coleford’s history to an end. Unfortunately, the underground workings remain, and their presence can still cause serious problems.

Steve displayed maps showing the extensive network of abandoned shafts and tunnels beneath parts of the village. Some had been filled or sealed, while others were poorly recorded or had been forgotten entirely. Over time, the ground above these workings can become unstable, leading to sudden collapses.

He described one incident in which a shaft collapsed beneath a driveway, requiring extensive engineering work and repairs costing more than £150,000. Specialist contractors had to be brought in from South Wales to stabilise the ground. There had also been cases of old bell pits collapsing beneath gardens and buildings, including an occasion when part of a kitchen floor reportedly subsided.

These hazards can create considerable difficulties for householders seeking planning permission or carrying out building work. Records may indicate the approximate position of a mine shaft without identifying its precise location. Steve recounted how one landowner had spent considerable time excavating a field in search of a suspected shaft, with little success.

At this point Steve introduced the subject of dowsing. He described how a person using divining rods had indicated a particular spot, and subsequent digging had apparently revealed the old shaft. He presented this as an example of how practical experience and unconventional methods could sometimes succeed where more orthodox searches had failed. It was certainly one of the more unexpected diversions of the evening.

Preserving the Remains of Industrial Coleford

Steve was anxious that the surviving evidence of Coleford’s industrial past should not disappear through neglect or redevelopment. He referred particularly to the old engine house at Newbury Pit, which had once been threatened with demolition. While serving on the parish council, he had become aware of the danger and helped secure action which resulted in the building receiving Grade II listed status.

He showed photographs of other surviving features, including old drainage outlets, industrial buildings, miners’ cottages, former transport routes and bricks bearing mysterious initials. Some of the brick markings might have been associated with local colliery companies, although Steve admitted that he had not yet established their precise meaning.

There was also Rope Walk Farm, whose name preserved the memory of an industry associated with the mines, and the remains of structures connected with the old canal. He mentioned a stone which had once belonged to an aqueduct but had apparently found its way into a private garden. The story illustrated how historic objects could be moved, reused or incorporated into later buildings, sometimes leaving future generations to puzzle over their original purpose.

Steve’s message was that local history could often be discovered simply by looking carefully at familiar surroundings. A drainage cover, an old wall, an unusual building or a name on a map might reveal something about the industrial activities which had once taken place there.

The Temperance Hall and the Battle Against Drink

One of Coleford’s more unusual surviving buildings was its Temperance Hall. Steve explained that the temperance movement had been particularly active in mining communities, where employers and religious reformers were concerned about the effects of alcohol upon workers and their families.

The hall was intended to provide a place for meetings and social activities without the presence of alcohol. Above the entrance was a biblical warning against giving drink to one’s neighbour and making him drunk. Steve explored the origins of the quotation, explaining that its original context was rather different from the way in which it had been used by the temperance movement.

He then digressed into the history of non-alcoholic drinks, including Vimto, which had been developed as an alternative to alcoholic beverages. He also referred to connections between the temperance movement and the early history of Manchester City Football Club.

Although these diversions occasionally took us some distance from Coleford, they helped demonstrate how local institutions were connected with much wider social and religious movements. The Temperance Hall was not simply an old building but a reminder of a period when attitudes towards alcohol, morality and working-class recreation were subjects of considerable public concern.

Electricity Arrives in the Village

Another interesting story concerned the arrival of electricity in Coleford. Steve described how Dr Jones, one of the village’s early medical practitioners, had built Coleford House and wanted to equip it with the latest modern convenience.

Rather than waiting for a public electricity supply, he arranged for power to be generated at a nearby water mill. A turbine was installed, and electricity was transmitted to the house by cables running along the valley. Steve pointed out that traces of the installation could still be identified, including insulators attached to the old mill building.

This was an early example of private electricity generation in a rural community, at a time when many households still relied upon candles, oil lamps or gas lighting. The general electricity supply did not reach the area until considerably later, during the twentieth century.

It was a fascinating contrast with the earlier accounts of miners working underground in darkness and appalling conditions. While some households were beginning to enjoy the benefits of electrical technology, others continued to depend upon labour-intensive and dangerous industrial practices.

Coleford and the First World War

Steve also devoted part of his presentation to the village’s experience of the First World War. He said that 132 men from Coleford served in the conflict and that eighteen failed to return. For a relatively small community, this represented a considerable loss.

He discussed the difficulties of identifying soldiers killed on the battlefield, particularly during the early stages of the war. Identification tags were sometimes removed from bodies as part of the process of recording casualties, leaving remains difficult or impossible to identify later. Changes were eventually made so that one identification tag could remain with the body while another was used for administrative purposes.

Steve also referred to the destruction of large numbers of military service records during the Second World War, when a German bombing raid damaged the building in which they were stored. This has created serious difficulties for people attempting to trace the military careers of relatives.

He mentioned the efforts of genealogical organisations to reconstruct family histories from surviving documents. Some of his observations about the religious practices of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were delivered in his usual provocative manner, but the underlying point was that records of ordinary people’s lives are often fragile and can disappear through war, fire or simple neglect.

The Second World War and Some Unusual Incidents

Coleford’s mining background also influenced its experience of the Second World War. Coal remained an essential national resource, and the government introduced measures to maintain production. Steve referred to the Bevin Boys, young men selected to work in the coal mines rather than serve in the armed forces. For some, this was an unwelcome alternative to military service, although their contribution to the war effort was substantial.

He told a personal story about a relative who had managed to avoid being sent into the mines and instead pursued a military career. There were also references to aircraft crashes in the surrounding countryside and the activities of wartime airfields.

One particularly entertaining story concerned a German Junkers 88 bomber which landed at Lulsgate in July 1941. According to Steve, the crew had become confused about their position and believed that they were landing in occupied France. In reality they had arrived in Somerset, where they were promptly taken prisoner. The aircraft itself was a valuable prize because it could be examined by British intelligence and technical specialists.

Steve also recalled that mining communities received special consideration in certain wartime food allocations because of the physically demanding nature of the work. Coleford’s fish and chip shop was apparently able to obtain additional supplies, and he remembered the business being operated by Annie Gibson and her son Royston.

These small domestic details provided a welcome contrast to the larger military and industrial events. They reminded us that wartime history was not confined to battlefields and government decisions but also involved the everyday business of feeding families, maintaining local services and keeping communities functioning.

Doctors, Musicians and Other Local Characters

Towards the end of the evening Steve introduced a series of stories about notable residents and unusual incidents in Coleford’s more recent history.

He referred to a former doctor’s surgery known as Pink Acre and told a story about a Canadian doctor who had lived there during the Second World War. According to local recollection, the doctor enjoyed opiates and may have fallen asleep while smoking, causing a fire which destroyed part of the property. Steve explained that the building had subsequently been reconstructed, although parts of the original surgery survived.

He also mentioned connections between Coleford and the world of popular music, particularly the rock group Hawkwind. Names such as Lemmy, Ginger Baker, David Bowie and other figures associated with the musical counterculture of the 1960s and 1970s appeared in his account. He suggested that various musicians had lived in or visited the village, while the group Ozric Tentacles had connections with a local mill.

The idea that a quiet Somerset village should have links with such an assortment of musical personalities was certainly unexpected. It demonstrated that Coleford’s history had continued to develop in surprising directions long after the coal mines had closed.

A Village with a Remarkable Past

Steve concluded with a light-hearted story about the parish council, which had apparently managed to break its own grass-cutting machine and then damaged another borrowed from a neighbouring authority. It was an appropriately comic ending to an evening which had alternated between humour, historical controversy and accounts of considerable human suffering.

What struck me most was the sheer amount of information Steve had assembled about a relatively small community. His research ranged from prehistoric archaeology to the Industrial Revolution, from the Somerset Coal Canal to parliamentary debates, and from the horrors of child labour to the arrival of electricity and the activities of twentieth-century rock musicians.

His approach was certainly not that of a conventional academic historian. He was outspoken, sometimes provocative and occasionally inclined to wander away from his main subject. However, he possessed a genuine enthusiasm for uncovering neglected evidence and challenging assumptions which had been repeated for generations.

I particularly appreciated his insistence that local history should not be treated as a collection of unquestionable facts. Maps can be inaccurate, documents can be misleading, and respected writers can make mistakes. The task of the historian is not simply to repeat what has already been written but to examine the evidence and decide what can reasonably be established.

My Reflections – The Human Cost of Progress

For me, the most important part of the evening was the account of the miners and their families. We are accustomed to celebrating the Industrial Revolution as one of the great periods of British achievement, and in technological and economic terms it undoubtedly was. Yet the prosperity of the country was built upon the labour of people who frequently endured conditions which we would now regard as intolerable.

The evidence concerning children working underground, miners suffering premature ill health and men dragging coal tubs through passages barely large enough to accommodate their bodies was particularly disturbing. The parliamentary readings showed how difficult it could be for workers to secure recognition of their suffering when powerful commercial interests were determined to defend the existing arrangements.

There was also something rather poignant about the disappearance of the industry itself. Generations of families had depended upon coal mining, and the village had developed around its needs. Then, within a comparatively short period, the pits closed, the workforce dispersed and much of the physical evidence began to disappear. Today, someone walking through Coleford might have little idea of the extensive industrial activity which once took place beneath the surrounding fields and houses.

Steve’s presentation demonstrated why local history matters. It connects the buildings and landscapes we see today with the lives of those who came before us. It also challenges the comfortable assumption that progress is always beneficial to everyone involved.

I came away with a greater appreciation of Coleford and the remarkable history concealed within its apparently ordinary surroundings. Steve had succeeded in doing something which not every lecturer manages: he had made us laugh, surprised us with unexpected discoveries and, above all, given us something substantial to think about.