Coming home: people, place and potential
- Dr George Locke
- Jul 31
- 12 min read
By Dr George Locke
In this article, George returns to her hometown of Pembroke Dock and finds herself reflecting not just on policy ideas such as Business Improvement Districts, but also on the deeper connections between people, place and possibility. What begins as a practical look at revitalising town centres becomes a moving exploration of memory, community and the quiet resilience of a town seeking new life. George is a volunteer with Faith to Faithless, a Humanists UK programme that supports individuals leaving high-control religions.
I set out to write a practical piece on Business Improvement Districts (BIDs) and Purple Flag accreditation, which are UK schemes designed to revitalise town centres and enhance safety, vibrancy and investment. But life intervened and a bereavement brought me home. Walking the streets of the town where I grew up, I found myself reflecting on change and loss, and what started as a policy article turned into something personal.
A town built on ships and stories
Pembroke Dock, in Pembrokeshire, southwest Wales, is not an ancient town. If you want a castle, that’s just over the hill in Pembroke. The town is unapologetically Victorian — created by Empire and industry. It lies on the Milford Haven Waterway, one of the deepest natural harbours in the world. In 1814, the Admiralty established a Royal Dockyard at Paterchurch, a small settlement on the River Cleddau. This marked the beginning of what would become Pembroke Dock. By the time of King William IV in 1829, the dockyard was thriving and the surrounding town was beginning to grow, laid out in an orderly grid of wide streets. It became known as Pembroke Dock, and in 1901 Queen Victoria formally granted it town status.
It was a town built on ships and ambition, where HMS Erebus (1826) was constructed before vanishing into the Arctic ice during the ill-fated Franklin Expedition of 1845. Queen Victoria’s royal yachts were launched here. Even the Millennium Falcon (the iconic spaceship from the Star Wars franchise) was built in our dockyard. It was once a town with pubs on every corner, busy with shipbuilders drawn from across the country. But the Royal Naval Dockyard began declining in the early 20th century. In 1918, Franklin D. Roosevelt, then Assistant Secretary of the US Navy, visited and called it “an old, small affair”. The last ship was completed here in 1922. By 1927, Pembroke Dock was described as “almost entirely a town of unemployed and pensioners”. World War II offered a reprieve as Sunderland flying boats were stationed here, and the Royal Air Force brought life back to the town. Industry followed, including refineries, a power station and ferry terminal, all creating jobs for locals. But again, the tide went out as industry and jobs were lost.
The town today
I walked along the high street with my elderly mother. What struck me wasn’t just the shuttered shops or the boarded windows. It was the peeling paint, weeds pushing through the pavement, litter and neglect. The town looked tired, abandoned not only by investment, but also by hope. Pembroke Dock, home to nearly 10,000 people and the third-largest town in Pembrokeshire, has high levels of deprivation and low diversity. Immigration is minimal. In the last census, just 300 residents identified as non-white. Over 2,300 residents identified as disabled. Wages are low, with many of the local jobs in care work or supermarkets. And for a small town, we are encircled by supermarkets: Tesco, Aldi, Lidl, Asda, B&M, Home Bargains. They offer what the independents cannot, with low prices, free parking, and long hours. Steph, whose family had closed their hardware store summed it up: “You can’t compete with corporations.” And people can’t afford not to shop there.
As we walked through town, it happened to be the last day our only remaining bank was open. My mother needed to sort out a payment, and we joined a queue that stretched to the door. As staff dismantled the premises around us, one lone teller fixed her smile and finished every interaction urging people to try the app instead: “We can help you set it up today.” But most, like my mum, didn’t want more technology in their lives. They wanted to be able to come in, ask questions, and speak to someone. The next day, the branch was gone. Another reason for people to stay home, shop online, and bypass the town centre altogether.
Vox populi
I spoke with some of the business owners in the town about their views. Lloyd’s jewellery shop has been part of the town for decades. Lloyd isn’t afraid of the supermarkets; they don’t sell what he does, and he has a well-established online presence. But he is concerned for both old and young people in the town. The older people have nowhere to park near the shops, and the youngsters lack places to gather. His vision? Think big — maybe an ice-skating rink, or a National Military Museum. “Why not?” he asks. “We’ve got the space. We have the Defensible Barracks.” The Defensible Barracks is a Grade II listed Victorian fortification — a 20-sided stone-built fort that has dominated the hill behind Pembroke Dock since the 1840s. It was probably the last "trace bastion" fort built in Europe. It is currently for sale for offers over £500,000, so it’s available should someone take Lloyd up on his idea.
Lloyd was the first to talk about the lack of opportunities for youngsters, but just about everyone I spoke to mentioned it. Kim and Matthew in the sweet shop next door said, “If you aren’t sporty, there is nothing here.” ‘Twas ever thus in Pembroke Dock. Growing up in the 1980s, we had boxing, dance schools, football, rugby, swimming, cricket, Scouts and Guides. Or you could learn guitar and start a band. But there wasn’t ambition. Sport or music was a hobby; it wasn’t going to take you anywhere. Now, I’m not sure if it is the town that has changed or the kids.
In contrast to Lloyd, Ahmed, a Kurdish refugee, had opened his vape shop the week before. He spoke warmly of the welcome he has received in the town, but lamented the lack of nightlife. “After 5pm, everything’s shut,” he said. “There should be music, restaurants, something alive.”
Cwtch — a coffee shop, art space, and music venue – tries to bring that life. ("Cwtch" is a Welsh word meaning "hug" ). They host monthly gigs, though it’s a struggle as ticket prices have to be high to cover costs in such a small venue. Still, they offer something precious: live music, poetry, a break from routine. The customers here echoed Lloyd’s comments on parking: “On the main street, there is a half- hour maximum, so you can never relax. You can’t visit more than one place unless you are young and fit, and the traffic warden is ALWAYS there.”
It was the end of the day when I stepped into Cwtch, so it was quiet. The customers were happy to chat. “Hey, weren’t you a historian last time?” Still am. Ish. One was a business owner in the town, and spoke about one of the issues I’d immediately noticed when walking down the high street: the poor upkeep of many buildings. “My landlord just doesn’t care. They could have painted the front — they won’t. I have a leak downstairs they won’t fix.” Cwtch’s clientele also felt there was a need for more support from Pembrokeshire County Council (PCC): “We can’t do it without the Big Council.”
Josh, who is a County Councillor in the "Big Council" explained the paint comment. PCC had offered grants covering 80% of shopfront repainting costs. Few took it up. “Maybe they just don’t see a future,” he said. That hit me. It’s not apathy as much as resignation. A belief that nothing will change, so why bother?
This very much mirrors my experience. Ten years before, I’d been part of a local group attempting to start a BID. A Business Improvement District is led and funded by local businesses to improve a specific commercial area. Money is levied from all eligible business rate payers to be spent as the BID decides, developing projects that will benefit the businesses, and consequently, the local area. We held a beer festival and arranged a bungee jump from the Cleddau Bridge, trying to raise awareness and generate excitement. Life took me away from the town, and I lost contact with the group. The idea fizzled out, but the impression I’d got from talking to businesses before leaving was of fatalism, that the good things don’t last and making an effort doesn’t matter.
Transport is another issue. Living in Pembroke Dock, I used to walk and cycle everywhere because buses were too infrequent, or didn’t go where I needed to go. The FlecsiBus finishes at 5.30pm. My parents now spend a small fortune on taxis for errands, shopping and trips to the doctor. For youngsters, to go out for the evening can require the Welsh tradition of hiring a minibus rather than trying to find multiple taxis. For now, Ahmed will have to wait for his nightlife, yet for a thriving town, accessibility, whether public transport or parking availability, is not optional, it’s essential.
The Warrior Room
Our town hall is named the Pater Hall, after the original name of the area. When I was growing up, we had pantomimes and amateur dramatics, line dances, tea dances, and rock and roll dances. It was where we had created our beer festival. It was an important part of the community. I was pleased to hear from Claire, a town councillor and trustee of the Hall, that it still was. Every week they hold a warm room, open to anyone and free to attend, in the Warrior Room, named after HMS Warrior, which was moored at Pembroke Dock between 1929 and 1979 as an oil jetty.
Twenty older residents were sitting at tables, drinking tea, eating sandwiches and biscuits and chatting. They reminisced about what was and worried about what is. “The thing is, small shops let you chat. A lot of the community is lost when you only have supermarkets.” “I can’t buy clothes,” said a man, sadly. “And shoes!” added a woman, “There are no shoe shops left. My daughter gets them for me on the internet.” Another gentleman commented on the look of the town, suggesting that if closed businesses had to leave the property looking decent, with something in the window, it wouldn’t look so depressing. Others agreed, but added that the old buildings were falling apart: “Have you seen the weeds growing from the windows of Woolworths?” I asked about food and restaurants. “We’ve got McDonalds, so we are alright for something to eat.” I smiled at that. For many in the town, McDonald’s means you’ve made it. But the talk quickly moved to accessibility and the lack of activities for kids: “I used to teach judo, but now they are just on their phones.” Maybe it is the kids.
Like other community businesses and projects, the warm room relies on volunteers. Claire had returned to Pembroke Dock after years away and felt a duty to give back. The Pater Hall still hosts events regularly for the community, including dances and bingo. Claire also told me they will be starting a cinema — the last one in Pembroke Dock closed in 1983. “We’re hoping to start by showing Star Wars, because of the Millennium Falcon, of course! And we’ll get people to dress up.”
Claire, Denise and Margaret, volunteers for the warm room, clucked around the tables ensuring everyone had food and drink and was joining conversations. “Some of our volunteers in the hall are in their 80s,” Claire told me, “But it is harder to reach younger people. Once you get a reputation for being for old people, young people don’t come.”
People, place and potential
Despite all of this, sparks of hope remain. Some residents are refusing to let the heart of the town die, not out of nostalgia for what once was, but with new ideas. St Govan’s Centre, built in the 1980s, is a pedestrian shopping centre connecting Asda and its car park to the town centre. One of my first jobs was working in a pharmacy there in the early 1990s. It hasn’t aged well. It isn’t just the faded and patchy paint; tiles have been lost, and buckets collect water from the leaking roof (this is Wales — it rains). But there are tenants moving in, as most of the units enjoy 100% business rate relief, making it lower risk for a start-up or community venture.
James, for example, recently opened Stormborn, a Community Interest Company (CIC) games café and community space. He wants to create a sanctuary, especially for neurodivergent youngsters, and he told me that it is already thriving. He spoke of a young boy who came in, withdrawn, anxious, hood up and ear defenders on. Within an hour, he was painting Warhammer figures and chatting with new friends. “It’s about building community”, James said. Volunteers help James in running the venture, teaching games and talking to people, and for them this isn’t just a space they enjoy, it’s a chance to build experience for their CVs. James charges a pound for an hour, ensuring his café is as accessible to as many people as possible. Everyone there was happy to talk about their appreciation for what James had done. “Now if only we had alternative clothing here!” said Laura.
Then there’s Clare, who runs Dragon Reptiles. The business was originally an aquatic and reptile shop, but she found herself rehoming so many animals that she’s decided to focus on rehoming and education, turning it into a CIC like James. “We’ve seen so many people who just don’t know how to look after their pets, or who have been given bad advice, and I’m shit at selling”, Clare laughed. Clare’s passion for animal welfare and helping others was evident through our conversation.
When James’s and a few other shops opened, St Govan’s put on a family day, with Clare offering snake handling, James offering arts and crafts, and others taking part with activities. “It was so good bringing people together, but I needed a week to recover,” grinned James. “We need to do it again.”
Chris runs the town’s boxing club. The club started in the 1960s and has been part of the community for over 50 years. With funding from charities and their own hard work, they have a large premises and so a large presence in the town. Chris was a member of the Royal Air Force and described boxing and the forces as similar as both require discipline and create family and opportunities. For him, too, it’s all about community, and the only thing holding him back is the lack of qualified coaches. His Disability Boxing sessions welcome up to 80 people regularly. His sessions cost less than a cup of coffee, making them as accessible as possible for all ages, and the club supports members through coaching training because, he told me, “When kids here leave school without, or with minimal, qualifications, qualifying in something they enjoy boosts their self-confidence.”
Josh, who is also a trustee for VC Gallery, spoke of the need to work with third sector organisations. VC Gallery is a community venture in the town that supports veterans and the community through creative engagement. They hold events through the week. “I’m really proud of what we’ve done for the community,” he said.
Claire, whom I’d met at the Pater Hall, told me about the centenary celebration they’d held in the town’s Memorial Park the previous year: “We made sure everything was free so everyone could come. So many people I’d never seen before saying how much they’d loved it for the families, so we will do something similar next year.”
Forward to the future
Josh had organised a town hall meeting, bringing County Councillors to the town. “There are things we can do, like keeping it tidy, but I wanted them to speak with our businesses and see what support Pembroke Dock needs.” As Martin, who had left Pembroke Dock for the exotic climes of Tenby, said, “It’s a vicious circle where the town has no money, so no one wants to invest in it.” Maybe a new group could establish a BID in Pembroke Dock, which could offer more than much-needed funding. It could help create a shared vision and sense of agency for the town’s businesses. The Port of Pembroke is part of the Haven Way Enterprise Zone. Pembroke Power Station has received planning permission for a battery energy storage system, and Josh told me about the potential for an off-shore windfarm. These developments could bring not only jobs but also renewed momentum to a town in need of both.
On my final day I visited the two museums in the town. The Maritime Museum at Hancock’s Shipyard reflects our shipping and fishing industry, and volunteers worked at restoring boats. Sid enthusiastically showed me around whilst telling me stories about my father. The Heritage Museum celebrates our military history (with a brief foray into Star Wars for the Millennium Falcon). It hosted a service for Armed Forces Day, followed by tea, coffee and cakes. This was bittersweet. I’d come home because my aunt died and I stood watching the service, painfully aware that, for the first time, she wasn’t there. But Josh was, Claire was. People who, like my aunt, cared about the past, the present and the future, and see the best in a community. As Claire told me, “People want choice and we can’t create the shops because there isn’t the money for them, but we can build communities and use our town centre for that.”
Thank you to everyone who took the time to speak with me: James, Ryan, Steph, Laura, Matt, Harley, Ahmed, Kia, Lei, Paul, Lloyd, Gaynor, Chris, Hannah, Rebekah, Clare, Kay, Matthew, Josh, Claire, Denise, Margaret, and everyone at the Pater Hall Warm Room, Ian, Lois, Syd, Martin, Mike and Michelle.
In memory of Ruth Buckle
A very telling article on the state of the nation and a town I know so well. I grew up in tenby and Plymouth. Plymouth was a vibrant, clean exciting city in the 1970's and 1980's. When I visited earlier this year Plymouth was just a grubby, disjointed (and possibly poorly managed) shadow of it's former proud self. I drove in, and drove out. So many places seem to have lost their heart. There seems to be an overlaying malaise and despondency despite the huge efforts of people to move things forward. Let's hope we are at the end of the tunnel and about to enter the light of regeneration and prosperity.