"Gyda'n gilydd mae creu newid mawr

Gyda'n gilydd gallwn godi oddi ar y llawr

We can thrive together

Be there for one another

And realise we're only different at first sight"

"This song has been on loop in my head for a while now- probably since we performed it in 'Mold Riots' (it was a catchy song!) but it seems even louder in my ears now that everything else has quietened down. There are so many different ways of being there for one another isn't there - the colliers came together to amplify their voices, the performers came together for 'Mold Riots' to celebrate and collaborate with their community and now we are still looking out for each other in strange and wonderfully creative ways. Who knows, in 150 years, the Mold community and Theatr Clwyd might come together to make a site-specific outdoor (or indoor!) theatre show about it!"

- Bethan Marlow

"Be the change

Turn the page

Dathlu gyda'n gilydd

Bod yn gadarn i'n gilydd

We are the heart and spirit of our town".

Mold Riots Family

A poem by Beth Armstrong, a community cast member

A rag-tag bunch, it’s got to be said,
Not family, but thrown together instead,
But that grew into one, to help tell a tale,
In a community play, bilingual, large-scale,

And there was a place for you, no matter your skill,
No need for a mould, no ‘fitting the bill’,
‘Dis-‘ and ‘ability’ meant nothing at all,
Age and gender: no barrier, no wall,

Just the desire to try, to give it a chance,
“Oh no, but what if they ask me to dance??”
“Don’t worry ‘bout that, there’s no dancing in this!”
“There’s stilt-walking instead” – “Are you taking the- ?”

Missing out – no chance of that there,
Something for all in this project where,
Giving up a few Sundays was a small price to pay,
For gaining so much, day after day,

For making new friends, for achieving a lot,
For getting the chance to give it a shot,
To act, to sing, to learn from the best,
To joke and laugh till it hurt in your chest,

To lift, to move, to play the guitar,
And after months to see that you’d come so far,
To perform and have your moment of glory,
And to remember everyone, who helped tell the story:

Who lead, and directed, conducted, composed,
Organised, sympathised, and chaperoned,
Who designed, and kitted, knitted, and dressed,
Who sewed, and washed, and sorted, and pressed,

Who built, and wrote, and sang, photographed,
Who played, and engaged, and choreographed,
Who marketed, stewarded, researched, introduced,
Who sold, stage managed, brewed, and produced -

A beautiful thing: a beating heart,
More than a play, more than just art,
Outgrowing the walls of that hill-top space,
Spilling onto the streets and invading the place,

With a drum beat, a brass band, a rallying cry,
Lanterns and banners held up to the sky,
We sang, we shouted, we brought the noise,
“Dos adre, dos adre, send him packing boys!”

-----

‘Dos adre, dos adre’, we hear it again,
But this isn’t the cry of divided men,
Dos adre, aros gartref, stay at home,
Dos adre, can you hear? It’s different in tone,

So in this awful chapter, again we’ll turn the page,
By working as one, we’ll make a sea change,
Even alone, we’re together, it sounds a bit strange,
And I know that it’s laboured, I’m taking great pains,

To stress, we’re the best, but only if we consign,
Ourselves to our homes, and thank the frontline,
Not just with applause, but with ballot slips,
And stay building our precious Mold Riots friendships,

‘Cos we’re ‘natural warriors, we’re fierce survivors’,
And when this is all over, again we’ll be thrivers,
‘Cos we are the ones ‘brought a riot to the streets,
Though now they’re empty, this isn’t defeat,

So we will not be beaten, we won’t hang our heads,
The show isn’t over, just postponed instead,
So connect, create, smile - don’t frown,
‘No matter our distance, we’re the spirit of this town’.

- by Beth Armstrong