Taking a wrong turn, as per usual,
out of Wrexham, I found myself driving
to Llay* up that gradual gradient,
looking for signposts to places I knew
to set me right but reached the colliery houses –
built in the ’20s with indoor toilet,
bath and the electric at nine pence a week –
on First Avenue, Second Avenue
and so forth to the Ninth as if the owner
could not be arsed to find proper, local names.
Llay Main was the deepest pit in Britain.