Wayne was born at a very early age and has not died yet, which is something he considers to be a bit of an achievement.

He joined Freemasonry in 2006, went into the chair for the first time in 2011, and started giving talks across several Provinces in early 2017, before joining NWAMS as a speaker in 2021.

He Is an accidentally established Masonic author and has had articles published in several Masonic and non-Masonic periodicals.

by Wayne Pendragon Owens

I am an Author, Freemason, Rosicrucian, Blood Biker, Widows Son, CodeNinja, Spod, Hacker, Son, Uncle, Brother, Man, AN INDIVIDUAL!

21st October 2026

Sixty Years Since Aberfan

There are some events that become etched into the memory of a nation, even for those not yet born when they happened. The Aberfan disaster is one of those moments. Sixty years on, the name Aberfan still carries a weight that speaks far beyond a small Welsh village. It remains a reminder of loss, accountability, and the terrible consequences when warnings go unheeded.

On the morning of 21 October 1966, life in the village of Aberfan began as it always had. Children made their way to school, parents went about their daily routines, and the community carried on with the ordinary business of life. Then, at 9:15am, everything changed.

A colliery spoil tip sitting above the village collapsed after heavy rain. Thousands of tonnes of liquefied waste surged down the mountainside, engulfing homes and, most devastatingly, Pantglas Junior School. In a matter of moments, an entire generation of children was buried beneath mud and debris.

When the rescue effort began, there was little thought for personal safety. Miners, neighbours, emergency workers and volunteers dug with their hands, shovels and whatever tools they could find. They worked in silence at times, listening for signs of life. The tragedy claimed the lives of 144 people, including 116 children.

The scale of the loss is difficult to comprehend even today. In a community as close-knit as Aberfan, almost every family was touched by grief. Streets lost their children. Classrooms lost their pupils. Parents faced the unimaginable reality of outliving their sons and daughters.

What followed exposed failings that should never have existed. Evidence later showed that concerns had been raised about the stability of the spoil tips, yet those warnings were not acted upon. The disaster was not an unavoidable act of nature. It was a preventable tragedy. The Tribunal that followed concluded that the National Coal Board bore responsibility for what had happened.

For many people, one of the enduring images of Aberfan is the visit of Queen Elizabeth II, whose presence in the village became one of the defining moments of her reign. It reflected not only the nation’s grief but also the feeling that the whole country mourned alongside the people of Aberfan.

Yet the story of Aberfan is also one of community resilience. Despite unimaginable pain, the village endured. Families continued. The memory of those children has never faded. Their names remain part of Wales’ collective memory, and each anniversary serves as a reminder of lives cut tragically short.

What also stands out, sixty years later, is the way the world responded. Donations to the Aberfan Disaster Fund came from across Britain and around the globe. People who had never heard of the village before October 1966 were moved to help in whatever way they could. Grief crossed borders, politics and social divisions.

In one of the most remarkable footnotes to the story, the largest individual donation to the fund was reportedly made by Reggie Kray, one half of London’s notorious Kray twins. It remains a striking reminder that compassion can sometimes come from the most unexpected places.

At the same time, one of the greatest controversies surrounding the aftermath of the disaster was the decision by the government of the day to take £150,000 from the charity fund intended for bereaved families to contribute towards the removal of the remaining spoil tips. Money given in sympathy and support for grieving parents was used to correct a danger that should never have been allowed to exist in the first place.

That contrast tells us something important about tragedies such as Aberfan. They affect far more than the people directly involved. They reveal the very best and the very worst in society. They show extraordinary kindness from strangers thousands of miles away, while also exposing failures of responsibility by those entrusted with public safety.

Sixty years on, Aberfan is not simply a chapter in Welsh history. It is a warning, a lesson, and a duty of remembrance. The children of Pantglas Junior School should have grown up, raised families, and lived full lives. Instead, they remain forever part of a story that still resonates around the world.

As long as their names are remembered, Aberfan will never be forgotten.