Andy’s Thought Dump

 Alright, hear me out for a second. You know that bit at the end of Barry Island train station? The scruffy patch with weeds, broken fences, and the tunnel that looks like it leads straight into a horror movie? Yeah, that bit. Now imagine stepping off the train and instead of thinking, “Blimey, bit grim down there,” you hear music playing, smell fresh doughnuts, see stalls all lined up selling everything from handmade crafts to vintage tees, old vinyl, street food that makes your belly growl, and some local legend selling Welsh cakes out of a converted camper van. Imagine that. Open-air market. Right there. At the end of the line. It wouldn’t take much. The railway’s gone. That tunnel’s not bringing a train through again unless Doctor Who’s filming. So let’s make it useful. Let’s make it exciting. Something different. Something ours . You could have local makers, food vans, kids with lemonade stands, old timers selling antique bits, someone with a dog in sunglasses - all of ...

It’s hard to put into words why Barry Island means so much to me - but I’ll try. Because for me, it’s not just a seaside town. It’s memories, people, love, laughter, and heartbreak. It’s a part of my soul. People may wonder why I’m talking about making Barry Island better - especially when I’m from Merthyr Tydfil. And don’t worry, I’ve got plenty to say about my home town too. But I want to start here. I want to write about Barry first. Because this place gave me some of the most treasured moments of my life. It's the backdrop to my earliest memories, the setting of joy and sorrow, and now, the place I get to pass those memories on to my own children. My first memory of Barry Island is etched in my mind like it happened yesterday. I was in the back of our red Datsun Cherry, my dad at the wheel, Madonna’s Holiday playing on the radio. We were heading to Barry Butlins, and as we drove through the gates, the smell of hot dogs hit me like magic. That sweet, salty smell carried the p...

Picture this: families piling off excursion trains, coffee in hand from a charming local café inside the old station building. Platforms bustling, Barry Island buzzing. Sounds like a dream, right? Well — we’re only three platforms and a bit of ambition away. Let’s talk about Barry Island station It should be a key gateway — but right now? It’s operating at about 33% of its potential. That’s not a statistic — that’s a cry for help. Platform 1 is the one we all use now  Platform 2 sits unused because it needs track relaying. Platform 3 is too short for longer excursion trains, fenced off from Platform 2 like they’re not even mates, despite being two sides of the same island platform. All three are physically connected. If you’re on one, you’re seconds away from the others. And they all have access to the station entrance - so this isn’t a complicated rebuild. It’s mostly a matter of willpower and investment. So what should we do? Here’s the dream - and it’s not that ...

There’s this idea I’ve had for a while now, and it just keeps circling in my head every time I pass the old harbour at Barry Island. Right now, it’s dead space. A patch of unused land tucked between the beach, the bridges, and the car park, forgotten and full of potential. And I can’t help but think: why are we letting that land sit there doing nothing when it could be helping to bring jobs, tourism, and money into the area? Imagine filling it in - literally. Level the land and turn it into a proper holiday park. Static caravans, lodges, maybe even chalets. Not some huge resort that swallows the Island whole, just a well-planned holiday complex that fits naturally into the landscape. Barry already gets its fair share of day-trippers when the sun’s out, but what if we gave them a reason to stay the weekend or the whole week? The location makes so much sense. Right by the sea. Walking distance to the beach, the fairground, the cafés, the railway. It’s all there - we’re just not using ...