A monologue to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the Telford Suspension Bridge in Conwy

Just like the ancient church which the town has grown up around, so my two neighbours have grown up around me. They can scarcely believe that I was once the thing. I made everything faster ensuring the mail coaches flowed more freely between Holyhead and the rest of the world. Of course, nothing stays young and vibrant for ever. What I have lost in being new, I have gained by being steady and steadfast. I have seen many things over my time. It has been easy for me to observe, because with age comes a certain invisibility. Although this is helped by my splendid design, Mr T made me to fit in. Nestled as I am beneath the castle, with my turrets I am almost camouflaged, although a squadron of seagulls seems to find me with ease.

The town of Conwy has always been at the heart of development and of course tourism. That of course began with the advent of the railway with Robert Stephenson’s railway bridge that arrived two decades after me. I wondered whether these new things called locomotives would catch on. They did, but they were overtaken by automobiles. Cars were not faster, simply fuelled by people’s desire to travel alone. That was a rarity when I was but a dream in young Thomas’s mind.

Obviously, I am used to being upgraded. 70 years after my opening original wooden road deck was replaced with a more durable iron roadway to accommodate heavier traffic and in 1904 a pedestrian walkway added. I was allowed to retire in 1958 when the new road bridge was completed and opening for automobiles that would travel faster than I thought possible.

I have borne the weight of horses, carriages, ordinary people, and royalty, from Victoria to Charles III. The other Stevenson, with a ‘v’, Robert Louis spent his childhood visiting the castle and being captivated by me. Hence, even I have a history with seadogs, pirates from Long John Silver to modern festival goers. Charles Darwin visited as he studied rock formations along the coastline, not to mention Charlotte Bronte, William Wordworth, and Beatrix Potter. I think it is my melancholy nature that gives the mood for inspiration.

As tourism has increased, I have stood more apart. People see me from the castle, but do not visit now as much. People walking their dogs do, as do couples seeking a moment alone. I keep watch silently, a steward for the ages. People have laughed, wept, danced, and lamented as they have crossed over me. Proposals made and relationships broken.

The town is constantly evolving, although it remains as it has always been a medieval town with a rich history. I have seen industries come and go. Mussels have been farmed, as fishing has ebbed and flowed. I have heard sounds of war and peace. The creation of the mulberry harbour that was then taken to Normandy is just one glorious example.

I have stood the test of time. People gather occasionally to celebrate me, even though at times I do seem to be forgotten. From time to time my story is retold as I am rediscovered. Humans mark time by anniversaries. I am told that people remember playing on my walkways with grandparents and parents and bringing their children to see my finery. I stand firm a place of connection and history. I am a place of memories a reminder of different times. If you listen quietly, I am a reminder of connectivity, of transformation, of hope.

I am 200. That is a lot and yet no time at all. I still stand watching the ebb and flow of the river and of life. That has been my job to watch and keep still. You will see many things if you slow down and keep watch with me.