You can spot the obituary of a true Swansea character from a mile away. They always include the phrase, “He will be sorely missed by all who knew him,” which is the Welsh way of saying, “If you didn’t know him, you really missed out.” Also, the photos are never professional. They’re snaps from a 1994 holiday to Benidorm, or a wedding where the tie is slightly askew and there’s a stray hand blocking the lens. It’s perfect. It’s real.
There’s also a strict hierarchy of mentions. First place goes to family. Second place goes to the rugby club. Third place goes to the choir. If you were a member of all three, you basically get a two-column spread and a commendation from the Archbishop of Canterbury. And let’s not forget the “funeral details” section, which includes the exact pub where the wake is being held. It’s practically an invitation. “Service at St. Mary’s, followed by refreshments at The Mumbles Mile.” You know what that means: someone’s leaving this world with a full stomach and a pint of Doom Bar.
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Here’s the bit that might shock you: people save these obituaries. I’m not kidding. There are scrapbooks in Pontardawe full of clipped-out pages. Why? Because reading them is a history lesson about the real South Wales—not the proverbial rough-and-tumble of a steel town, but the love, laughter, and sheer bloody-mindedness of the people who kept it running. The S. Wales Evening Post obituaries are the ultimate proof that a life doesn’t have to be famous to be fascinating. You can be a plumber who never missed a single Swansea City home game and be remembered as a legend.
So next time you’re in a café in Cardiff Bay, skip the celebrity gossip. Pick up a copy of the South Wales Evening Post from last Tuesday. Turn to the back page. You’ll find a man named Huw who “loved his garden, his dog, and arguing with the council about bin collection day.” He’s gone now, but his legacy is printed in black and white, between an ad for a funeral director and a coupon for a discount kebab. That’s the real South Wales right there. You couldn’t make it up. And if you did, they’d put it in the paper.
