"For some odd reason, lost in the mists of time there's an extraordinary shortage of last names in Wales." "Almost everyone seems to be a Williams, a Jones or an Evans." "To avoid widespread confusion Welsh people often add an occupation to a name." "For example, there was Williams the Petroleum and Williams the Death." "There was Jones the Bottle and Jones the Prize Cabbage which described his hobby and his personality." "Evans the Bacon..." "and Evans the End of the World." "The Lord God tells us." "It's all in His book." "But one man's name was a puzzle." "And it wasn't until I was ten years old that I asked my grandfather about the man with the longest and most enigmatic name of all." "The Englishman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down A Mountain?" "Now there's a long name for you, and a long story." "You are not going to fidget, are you?" "For this is a story- an epic story." "Yes, epic." "It must have been 1917, on a Sunday when two retired army officers arrived in Ffynnon Garw." "The younger man, Anson, was just startin' to enjoy life having recently left hospital after service in France." "However, his superior, George Garrad had been retired to the Ordnance Survey in the hope that this would help the morale of his troops who'd been driven to drink by his irksome personality." "Many men had gone to the Great War and the rest of the village was in chapel." "All except Morgan the Goat, of course." "Excuse me." "Well, does anyone here speak English?" "English, are you?" "That would explain everything." "Well, it's Sunday." "They're all in chapel." "We're just wondering if..." "Charming." "We'll press on, I think." "Well, do you want to come in or don't you?" "As I said, the rest of the village was in chapel including' mothers with babies." "Since the young men went to war, there seemed to be a lot of ginger-haired babies." "But in those hard times, no one seemed to mind except Reverend Jones, of course." "Are all of the wicked men just in Germany?" "Wouldn't that be nice if all the wicked men were on the battlefields of France?" "Reverend Jones was in fine form that day." "Nearly every Sunday he preached against the war and Morgan the Goat, in that order though he never mentioned Morgan the Goat by name, of course." "They are also among us here in this very village." "What's yours?" "Well, that's very kind." "I'll have a pint of bitter, thank you." "Morgan?" "Well, pleasant enough sort of place, isn't it?" "I suppose so, considering it's Wales." "A valued guest." "A regular." "Very particular." "Refined even." "This is turning out to be quite a busy spot." "Now then." "Oh, I hate the summer." "Morning, Sergeant." "Morning." "My name is Garrad." "George Garrad." "We're staying here at the inn." "I guessed that from your luggage." "English, are you?" "Looking for more coal, I suppose." "No." "Cartographer, actually." "Yes, sort of surveyors, if you like." "We make maps." "We're here to measure the mountains." "Very useful, I'm sure." "I'll have you know it's an important part of the war effort." "One must know one's terrain." "You've come to the right place with your measurings." "There's some terrain." "That's a mountain." "First mountain in Wales." "What's it called?" "Ffynnon Garw." "Goodness gracious, these Welsh names." "Would you mind saying that again?" ""Fuh-non Gar-rue," man." "It's simple." "Listen." "I'll write it down for you now so you can get it right on your map doings." "Thank you very much." "Of course, it will only appear if it's over 1,000 feet." "Don't be twp, man." "That's well over 1,000." "Now then." "Excuse me." "I think..." "You ready for another?" "You can keep the change, Mr. Morgan!" "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth." "Thank you very much." "Ooh, that Morgan!" "Look, sorry." "Could I please have a pint of bitter?" "No need to get all English about it." "The English are in the pub and they say they come to measure the mountain." "All this way just to measure our mountain." "Measuring it?" "Well, who needs to know the height of a mountain, I ask." "Another drink, gentlemen?" "No." "No." "No, thank you." "Most hospitable." "Yes, no, no, thanks." "Anything else I can be getting you?" "No." "All right then." "I'll be taking the dog for a walk." "See you in the morning." "There is one thing." "I know it's hard to find staff in this time of war, but we will require an assistant." "Someone quite strong, preferably." "I think you will find that His Majesty's Ordnance Survey will provide equitable remuneration." "They'll pay, but not very much." "Well, those that aren't in France are down the mines." "Of course, there's Johnny Shellshocked." "Sorry." "Who?" "Johnny Jones, back from the war." "Gone a little doodle-alley-tap." "He lives with his sister, poor thing." "Oh, I see." "But strong." "As long as you don't expect him to talk... or think." "We will require his services just as a porter." "Well." "Johnny should be able to manage that." "Perhaps we could meet him." "Absolutely." "First thing in the morning." "He seems to have rather an impatient dog, wouldn't you say?" "Yeah." "Why not?" "Because he's not ready." "All he has to do is hold a pole straight." "Don't be twp." "No one gets paid for just holdin' a pole." "Unless you're Betty from Cardiff." "Don't start that again." "Megan said she saw her all tarted up again in the pub on Saturday." "She's been advising' me on the refurbishment of my establishment." "Refurbishin' your establishment!" "I've never heard it called that before." "Mornin', Johnny." "I got some English staying' at the pub." "Makin' maps, daft buggers." "They need help, of course." "Someone to carry what they can't or won't." "There's money." "So should I tell them you're interested?" "Well, come along to the pub later, all right?" "Good mornin', Reverend Jones." "I see God's in His heaven and all's well with the world." "Have you no shame?" "No!" "I can't think where I've left it." "When does a hill become a mountain?" "I think it must be a comparative term." "I mean you take the Himalayas of India." "There they have mountains of 10,000 feet which are referred to-I believe-as foothills." "But take our mountain." "That isn't a foothill!" "Well, again, placed in the Alps, it wouldn't even be considered a hillock." "But it isn't in the Alps!" "It's here in Wales!" "Quite." "So who-who decides on British maps?" "Mr. Davies, now this in confidence." "They're saying..." "What, the English?" "Yes!" "They're saying that it must be over 1,000 feet." "Really!" "I'd imagined 5,000 was the standard." "But how high is Ffynnon Garw?" "Is it over 1,000?" "Over 2,000?" "1,000?" "I'd always imagined it was a few hundred." "Oh, dear." "Oh, and I thought you were an educated man." "Oh, dear." "Oh, dear." "The first mountain in Wales." "Yes, it is something we have boasted about since time immemorial." "We didn't have the biggest mountains of the North nor the beautiful mountains of mid-Wales but we could claim that we lived in the shadow of the first mountain inside the Welsh border." "These mountains have defeated every invader." "This is where the Britons fled when they were invaded by the Romans, the Angles the Saxons, the Vikings, the Normans." "Oh, yes, they all invaded this island of Britain but they've never taken the mountains from us." "They've never taken ancient Britain." "My God." "Those last stretches are steeper than they look." "Yeah." "I hardly think your pedometer reading will be much use." "Well, not much, but, nevertheless..." "So, can you see either of our checkpoints from here?" "No." "But I can see those two men again." "Rather ominous." "Reminds me of surveying Abyssinia in '88." "Come on, boys." "Any more bets?" "This may be your last chance." "2,300." "2,300." "For Williams the Petroleum." "Good man, good man." "Right, Anson." "Well same as you, I imagine." "Yes." "More or less." "Good." "The very men we need." "Mr. Garrad, sir." "Settle our bet." "How high is our mountain?" "I'm sorry." "I can't say yet." "We've only just done the first recce." "You must have some idea." "Well, nothing accurate as yet, I'm afraid." "Good night." "Night." "Look." "I may be wrong, but after 25 years of doing this sort of thing, I doubt it." "I would say about 930 feet." "Gentlemen." "930?" "930?" "Come in." "Mr." "Anson!" "Mr." "Morgan." "Yes." "Perhaps you can help." "Do you know who those two gentlemen down there in the street are?" "They've been following us all day." "Thomas Twp and Thomas Twp Too." "Local farmers." "They're not quite with it." "Touched." "Stupid." "Twp." "That's Thomas Twp on the left and his brother, Thomas Twp." "Sorry?" "He's Thomas Twp Too." "He is." "Or is it the other way round?" "Well, whichever." "That's fine." "It was just they were..." "We were beginning to get a bit worried." "Quite harmless." "Now I think I can safely say I'm speaking on behalf of all of my patrons-villagers to a man when I say I feel..." "we feel that your Mr. Garrad's done a pretty shoddy job measuring Ffynnon Garw which is, to any trained eye, a mountain." "Beg your pardon?" "Accepted." "No, no, no, no." "I mean-Sorry." "I'm not quite following what you... 930 feet, man?" "I hope he doesn't intend sticking to this obviously euphonious measurement." "No, the thing is, Mr. Morgan, we haven't really measured your mountain yet." "We've merely made a preliminary reconnoitre, which has yielded a very approximate figure." "All the way to the top." "That's it?" "Yep." "Well, no wonder they bloody got it wrong." "And then finally, we'll make measurements using... this." "But to use this thing, which we call the transit we have to be able to clearly view the summits of Newton Beacon and Whitchurch Hill." "But they're not mountains." "No, they're not mountains, Mr. Morgan." "But Her Majesty's Ordnance Survey of 1887 established their heights and the distance between them and the distance between them and Ffynnon Garw." "And given those measurements we should be able to ascertain the true height of Ffynnon this elevation." "Ah, so you're saying it probably isn't 930 feet." "Well, I'd be very surprised if today's measurement was accurate, yes." "Ah, good." "Well, I'll see you in the bar then." "Yes, yes, yes." "You should bear in mind, Mr. Morgan that your mountain -whatever- may very well be more than 930 feet." "Yes!" "But it may also be less." "Less?" "No!" "All this fuss." "Over what?" "Is it a hill?" "Is it a mountain?" "Perhaps it wouldn't matter anywhere else, but this is Wales." "The Egyptians built pyramids." "The Greeks built temples." "But we did none of that because we had mountains." "Yes, the Welsh were created by mountains." "Where the mountain starts, there starts Wales." "If this isn't a mountain..." "Well, if this isn't a mountain, then Anson might just as well redraw the border and put us all in England, God forbid." "Good morning, Thomas, and Thomas." "Good morning." "Good morning." "What can I do you for?" "We've come to see the men who are measuring the mountain." "Well, hello." "This is Mr. Garrad, and my name's Anson." "And as you can see, we are terribly busy." "This is my brother, Thomas Twp, and I am Thomas Twp Too." "We've no learning, and most people say we're twp." "But we're not so twp as to not know that we're twp." "Well, how novel." "It was very nice to meet you." "We would like to know how you intend to measure the mountain." "We would like to watch and we'd be happy to help carry your rule." "Really?" "Well, thank you." "That's splendid." "They don't call them twp for nothin'." "Good God." "Thomas, I'm not altogether happy about you carrying this equipment for the English." "Are you suitably rewarded?" "I don't know, sir, but I'll put it down." "Morning." "Morning." "We're for the historical measurement." "Have you met the Reverend Jones?" "No, no." "How do you do?" "You'll do your best now, I'm sure, huh?" "Well?" "What's the result?" "Please." "We have hours of calculations ahead of us." "I'm afraid you'll have to be a little patient, but we should know this evening." "Now, excuse me, gentlemen." "Thank you." "Please be careful." "And how do you know later?" "We've made measurements with those 2 hills and we already know the height of Newton Beacon and Whitchurch Hill." "But how were they measured?" "The same way." "By comparing them with other hills." "But who measured the first hill?" "Well..." "God, my boy." "God!" "That night, the pub did big business as all gathered to hear the result." "All except Reverend Jones, of course who wouldn't step into such a den of iniquity." "Same again?" "No, I wish to change my bet." "You can't do that." "Well, then, I wish to place another one." "Feeling any better?" "No." "No, I've got a shocking headache." "I think I should lie down." "Do you want me to tell them then?" "That's a splendid idea, although it really should be me." "On the other hand this might be a good chance for you to get practice talking to the natives." "You don't know when it might be handy." "Yes, of course." "980 feet." "Objection "substained"." "I'm not takin' any bets under 1,000 feet." "Traitor." "Traitor?" "Are you sure you haven't got any English blood in you?" "Any result?" "No!" "They're not going to like it very much, are they?" "No." "All the same, these figures are science." "And what is science, Mr. Anson?" "I always forget that one, don't I?" "Oh, come on." "Science is dispassionate." "Exactly." "Evening." "Well, Mr. Morgan, with your permission." "Gentlemen." "We have now Ffynnon Garw and I have to inform you that it is 984 feet." "What?" "Now I realize that this may be a disappointment to you but I would ask you to remember that it is just a measurement and in no way should detract from the beauty of, or indeed your affection for this..." "...hill." "Thank you." "Hill?" "A result?" "Tell me." "Do they have a result?" "It's a... hill." "A hill." "Perhaps it would have been different if there hadn't been a war but this was 1917, and people were exhausted by loss." "Those that were allowed to stay manned the pits mining the coal that would fuel the ships." "24 hours a day they labored." "Corners were cut." "Coal was hacked hastily and those who survived the trenches died for the coal." "It was a sad time." "Our friends had been taken, our sons, our husbands." "A once-close community was slowly being' destroyed." "How could we face those who survived if they returned to find no mountain?" "While they had fought the Germans, we had lost the mountain to the English?" "Our village had been ruined, and now they were takin' our mountain and our Welshness." "Meeting in the village hall." "Meeting in the village hall!" "Meeting in the village hall!" "Reverend Jones is assembling a meeting in the village hall." "Now!" "What does that old coot think he's gonna do?" "Raise the mountain?" "He's gonna organize an official complaint." "Come on, boys." "Were you comin'?" "A complaint?" "Thank you, thank you." "Look, I propose a petition demanding the inclusion of Ffynnon Garw as the first mountain in Wales to be included on all of His Majesty's maps." "And who's gonna read this petition?" "Who's going to agree?" "I don't think I need any advice from you, Mr. Morgan." "I haven't finished." "I haven't finished yet." "I don't want Ffynnon Garw to be on the map because we begged for it, because we pleaded." "No!" "If Ffynnon Garw has to be 1,000 feet, then I say let it be 1,000 feet!" "20 feet!" "That's all we need!" "A 20-foot tump and we have our mountain." "I'm not sure how legal that is." "Yes." "Or ethical." ""Legal"?" ""Ethical"?" "How legal was it to say that 1,000 feet is a mountain and 984 isn't, huh?" "Do we call a short man "a boy" or a small dog "a cat"?" "No!" "This is a mountain, our mountain and if it needs to be 1,000 feet, then by God, let's make it 1,000 feet." "I would prefer it, Mr. Morgan if you did not take the Lord's name in vain." "Yes, Ivor, go on." "Have a go." "Morgan the Goat..." "Sorry, Morgan." "Morgan has a point." "I have visited mountains that are topped by ancient burial chambers and it is that full height which is measured." "I see nothing wrong with adding to Ffynnon Garw." "In Rhondda Fawr there's a huge coal tip above the village and that's on the maps." "Am I the only one that thinks this smacks of sharp practice of cheating?" "What do we do?" "Lower one part of Ffynnon Garw to raise another?" "Take it from your garden if it makes you feel better." "Yes!" "Yes!" "It would make me feel better." "I would be happier if the mountain was raised by toil, by sweat by work, by sacrifice." "Yes!" "Take the earth from our own gardens." "That would make me feel better." "You're just making it impossible." "No, Mr. Morgan, I am not!" "Oh, that man." "Johnny." "Well, this is..." "No, listen." "In France..." "In France, we dug trenches 10 miles long." "We took earth from here and built hills there." "We moved fields." "You wouldn't believe what we did." "It's possible." "It's just hard work." "I'll help." "And that's how it all started." "The Reverend had an idea, but Morgan had a better one which the Reverend altered and Johnny believed possible." "Of course, it didn't change the fact that Morgan the Goat wouldn't talk to Reverend Jones and Reverend Jones wouldn't talk to Morgan the Goat." "And Johnny could rarely talk to anyone." "Sergeant." "Gentlemen." "Mr." "Anson." "On behalf of the village, we would like to convince you to persuade Mr. Garrad to stay longer and measure the mountain again." "Again?" "Well, I'm sorry, but I think today's reading was accurate." "We're going to add 20 feet." "What do you mean add 20 feet?" "'Tis legal, isn't it?" "Heights of other mountains sometimes include burial mounds." "Even coal tips." "Aye!" "Well, now that is true that permanent features are sometimes allowed, but..." "Good." "20 feet it is then." "We can't possibly wait while you add 20 feet." "I mean, how are you going to do this?" "Never you mind." "We'll manage." "You just convince Mr. Garrad." "No, I know I'd be wasting my breath." "We have a very tight schedule and Mr. Garrad's very eager to get on." "All we're asking..." "No, it's very late, so if you don't mind we will be leaving first thing in the morning." "Thank you." "It's a damn shame, man." "Don't worry." "They're not goin' anywhere." "Sorry, Morgan?" "I missed that." "I must be goin' deaf in this ear, man." "I said good night, Sergeant." "Aye, aye." "Good night now." "Morgan?" "I need 2 pounds of sugar." "2 pounds!" "It's rationed." "I know it's rationed." "Come on, Ivor." "This is a national emergency." "Yes, but..." "2 pounds?" "I don't want to have to tell people that it failed because of you, Ivor." "So, are they stayin'?" "Oh, I think I won them over, my love." "I think I won them over." "For God's sake, Anson, crank harder." "I am doing my very best." "Perhaps you'd like to have a try." "I'd hate for you to have to exert yourself a little bit." "What did you say?" "Trouble, gentlemen?" "Yes." "I'm afraid so." "Oh." "Dear, oh, dear, oh, dear." "Mr. Morgan." "By the way I was wondering." "What happened to the flagpole?" "Dry rot." "Dry rot?" "In Wales?" "That looks more than 20 foot, man." "It's 20." "Bloody hell." "We're gonna need a lot of earth to cover that." "It is not 9:00." "Good morning." "Reverend Jones." "Am I disturbing you?" "I thought you were one of the children." "Just what we need to talk about." "Today is an historic day." "Historic!" "A day which generations will talk about for years to come!" "Is there news from the front?" "No." "The news is here." "The news is up there." "Today we are building a mountain!" "And I want your pupils to help." "My pupils!" "To labor!" "To help you falsify the height of a..." "To falsify?" "Mr. Davies both your sense of community and your vocabulary leave much to be desired." "So?" "Well..." "Well what?" "Well, difficult to tell." "And by now, you've probably flooded it." "We'd best leave it for 10'." "Fancy a drink?" "Forgive me, Lord." "No, they know not what they do, as you said." "~Bread of heaven" "There you are." "I've been standin' at that bar like a lemon." "I'm busy." "Refreshments." "Get that." "What shall I say to them?" "Don't say anything." "Just push it to the garage and take the engine apart." "Yeah, but I've never taken one of these apart." "It isn't a two-stroke." "Now's your chance to learn." "What if I can't put it back together again?" "You'll have done a great service." "All right, let's get this down to the garage, eh?" "Bloody hell." "Quite." "When it rains it pours, eh?" "So, do you know who's behind this?" "I don't know what you're suggesting." "What I am suggesting, Mr. Williams is that our problems seem highly coincidental with my qualification of your mountain as a hill." "I am beginning to suspect childish revenge, bad sportsmanship..." "Stop!" "Now stop before you say something that you will regret." "Yes, it's true a lot of people are upset but to think that anyone would..." "Mr. Garrad, sir, we are an honorable people." "I'm sorry." "It just seems very, very odd." "Well, let's forget that for now, get this down to the garage." "And how long do you think the repairs will take exactly?" "I'll have you on your way in no time." "Good." "Because otherwise, we shall have to make alternative arrangements." "No need for that, gentlemen." "Now if you'd kindly remove your luggage and push me." "Push?" "Push." "Tommy in?" "He's sleepin'." "Night shift." "I have to see him." "He's not going anywhere for you." "Wake him, woman!" "This is a matter of life and death!" "Very good, very good." "Excellent." "3 buckets." "Excellent, excellent." "Hello, hello." "We've chosen a hot day for it." "Better than rain." "But it's going to rain later." "Well, all the better to refresh us, you see." "Be optimistic." "Now go on." "Dig." "Fill that third one, quick." "Ask some house on the way into Cardiff." "You can't miss it." "But, Morgan, I'm workin' nights." "There's some of us are workin' day and night." "I don't want to be telling people it all failed because of Tommy Twostroke." "Capital, capital." "Right." "Let me just get my tools." "And when we were talking about Llywelyn the Last, you will remember that..." "Come in." "We've come for the children." "We need them at home." "Well, this is most irregular." "Refreshments!" "Anyone in need of refreshments?" "Go on." "Go on home." "I can't say I like this village." "It's altogether far too quiet." "Yes, I noticed." "I rather like it." "Do you think he has a clue about what he's doing?" "Well, he's certainly stripping it with great confidence." "I know, but..." "I'm afraid I don't know the first thing about motorcars." "Unfortunately, neither do I." "Aha!" "I think, gentlemen, I've found the problem." "Yeah." "And what's that?" "Well, I don't know the English word, but in Welsh... we call it a- a bethangalw." "A what?" "A "bairthandgaloo. "" "Yeah." "Close enough." "And where can we get a replacement?" "Cardiff." "Cardiff?" "We'll send Tommy Twostroke when he gets back." "Right." "Tommy!" "I thought that..." "Never mind what you thought." "What the hell are you doin' here?" "Morgan sent me." "What does he want?" "It's Thursday." "I've got my work." "He wants you to come right away." "And lose my job?" "It's an emergency." "He said, "Tell her I can't do it without her"." "Can't do without me?" "Something like that." "Ha'penny change." "Thank you." "Mornin', Reverend." "Don't you "Good mornin', Reverend" me." "This is typical." "While the entire village, with the notable exception of Davies the School toil in this heroic task you have applied your labor to making a profit and to further disseminating the evil of alcohol." "Now, now, Reverend." "I think the heat is getting to your good temper." "I'm supplying' a service." "A true service would be free." "Trust me." "I'm making no profit." "Oh-ho-ho, dear." "Trust you?" "The day has yet to dawn when I will trust you." "Oh, come on, George." "It's not the end of the world." "Just means we'll have to stay here for another few days." "Is there any transport for hire at all?" "No, everything's being used for the..." "Yes?" "For the what?" "The war." "Oh, the war." "Yes." "I thought I heard a train last night." "So is there a railway station here?" "Well..." "It's a simple question." "Is there or is there not a railway station?" "Well, not really." "Not really?" "Morning." "Do you have a train timetable?" "Trains?" "Yes, trains." "You're English, are you?" "Anson?" "Yes." "Yes, we are, yes and we'd like to catch a train." "No trains." "Good God, man, I just heard one." "They're coal." "There's coal trains all day, coal trains all night." "But no passenger trains." "Don't see any passengers, do you?" "Meat pies!" "Apples!" "Pears!" "Now, now." "The Good Lord took a day to divide heaven and earth." "We can't expect to do better." "And we've broken the back of it." "That's the important thing." "We haven't broken the back of it." "Yes, we have." "We're almost up to 14 feet." "We'll need more as we get higher and the base grows wider." "He's right." "Pessimists, all of you." "And you!" "You!" "You said it would rain." "And it will." "God, dear." "Morgan, what the devil's goin' on?" "I have Tommy Twostroke..." "Desperate!" "That's the word, Betty." "Desperate times, desperate measures, desperate Englishmen." "You had better not be suggestin' what I think you're suggesting'." "Hello." "Sorry." "Could I possibly have a glass of beer?" "Do I look like a barmaid?" "Barmaid?" "Never!" "I'm surprised at you, Mr. Anson, makin' a mistake like that." "This is our honored guest, Miss Elizabeth." "I'm sorry." "I simply assumed because you were behind the bar." "Well, I like my regulars to feel that this isn't a pub." "It's a home away from home." "Home?" "Back so soon?" "Shame." "Difficulty with the breathing again?" "Terrible trouble with her chest." "I knew you were returning' to Cardiff too soon." "I told you so." "She soldiers on under adversity." "What can I get you to drink?" "Pint of bitter, please." "Coming up." "And put it on my account." "Your account?" "To show there's no hard feelings." "Really, there's no need for that." "Thank you anyway." "Reginald Anson." "Elizabeth." "Miss." "And it would be my pleasure." "Well, there." "Enjoy your drinks." "I'm sure you've a lot to talk about." "I'm afraid Mr. Morgan does so like to discuss one's private matters in public." "Terribly bad taste, I find." "Quite common." "Well, you can rely on me for complete discretion." "I'm sure." "Now, would you excuse me?" "I gave up my first real, honest job!" "Mr. Garrad, sir!" "Excuse me." "What can I do you for?" "Anson." "There's dirty work at the crossroads." "I just spoke to Morgan about staying another night and he wasn't the least bit surprised." "No, no, no." "You shouldn't jump to conclusions." "Williams the Garage Man had already told him that the car was inoperable." "He had?" "Oh, I see." "One can't be too careful in foreign climes." "Well, it's only Wales, George." "It's still foreign, Reginald." "I understand." "I do!" "Completely!" "Especially since they are English." "Morgan, you're missing the point." "No, you are missin' the point, girl." "All you have to do is charm the old fool so his days don't seem so empty." "Morgan, your head's empty." "All this for just a map!" "Just a map?" "Is that what Tommy Twostroke said?" "Half-wit!" "Just a map!" "Maps, dear Betty, are the the undergarments of a country." "They give shape to continents." "You!" "George." "Let me introduce you." "This is Miss Elizabeth from Cardiff." "Come for the good mountain air." "And this is Mr. George Garrad." "Pleased to meet you." "I'm sure." "Damn and blast!" "Oh, God." "I said it would." "By God, it reminds me of the monsoons in the tropics." "So have you ever been to the tropics?" "Excuse me." "Awful mud slides on nights like these." "Williams!" "Morgan?" "We need tarpaulins up the mountain, quick." "All our work will be washed away!" "That's the only one I've got." "Right." "That'll do." "Morgan!" "Get Johnny Shellshocked and get up the mountain, quick!" "But, Morgan!" "Well, I can't do it all myself." "Do you want me to have to tell people it all failed because of you?" "We're nearly there, Johnny boy, nearly there." "Get down!" "Get down, Johnny, you bloody idiot!" "Lightnin'!" "Get down!" "Come on!" "Come on!" "Come on!" "All right." "Calm down." "Come on." "Good boy." "You can get up now." "Come on." "So we forged through Palestine, and then from there on into Cairo, and finally from there, we went on into Aden." "D'you hear that, Miss Elizabeth?" "Mr. Garrad's been to Aden." "Aden?" "Have you been to Aden, Mr. Anson?" "No." "Not yet, but..." "It sounds fascinating." "Another for you, Mr. Garrad?" "You all right there, Mr. Anson?" "I'll have another." "And one for Mr. Anson." "And put them on my account." "Thank you very much." "How charming to be treated to a drink by a lady." "Miss Elizabeth's benevolence knows no bounds." "Bloody hell." "Only soddin' thunder and bloody lightning'?" "Drove the poor bugger half mad." "What about the mound?" "We saved your mound all right." "You can't leave him here." "You should take him to Blod's." "I've done enough for one night." "Get some towels and a blanket, quickly." "Damn shame, poor chap." "I saw a lot of this sort of thing in Sebastopol." "Bugger Sebastopol, George." "Give me your jacket." "Come on!" "A large brandy, please." "Quickly." "Right." "Unclench his fingers." "Undo his shirt." "Get his shirt undone and unclench his fingers." "All right." "Let me see if he's swallowed his tongue." "That's it." "Come on." "There." "Just relax." "Blod!" "What have you done with him?" "I didn't do anythin'!" "Betty, give the man the brandy." "Betty?" "So this is Betty?" "What the bloody hell is she doing here?" "No, Blod, you..." "Don't get the wrong idea." "This is another lady." "With these gentlemen." "Isn't that right?" "Yes, we're from London." "Now can we please get on with helping this poor fellow?" "He's in deep shock." "There." "I'm sorry." "I thought you were somebody else." "Come on, Morgan." "Help me get him home." "I know what to do." "All right." "Gently, gently." "Well, I've had far too much excitement for one evening." "If you'll excuse me, I'll say... good night." "Yeah, but, George" "Good night!" "Don't worry about Morgan." "This isn't the first time I've looked after him." "He won't be back tonight." "And thank you for helpin' me with Blod." "It's fine." "Just seemed the..." "Seemed the thing to do, really." "I mean that." "Thank you." "That's fine." "Good." "Well, good night, Miss Elizabeth and..." "Betty." "Betty." "Yes." "And thank you for a lovely evening and..." "Are you married?" "I'm sorry?" "Are you married?" "No." "Good night, Mr. Anson." "You're a gentleman." "Idiot." "Sleepin' quietly?" "No thanks to you." "Well, I'll just go back and lock up." "I won't be long." "Don't think for one minute that you're stayin' here tonight." "After what you've done to Johnny?" "Blod." "And another thing, Morgan." "If this was all for nothin' don't think about darkenin' my door ever again." "Don't be rash now, girl." "Bugger off, Morgan." "Oh, no!" "Betty!" "Damn and blast!" "Good mornin'." "Couldn't you sleep?" "I slept like a log." "It's so quiet without Morgan bangin' around." "Morning." "I thought you might already have gone." "You seemed rather impatient last night." "Oh, no, no, no." "I'm not one for runnin' around in the rain." "I like to stay snug in a warm bed and just stare at it." "Everythin' looks better when it's wet, don't you think?" "Are you hungry?" "Were you lookin' for somethin' to eat?" "I'm famished." "Yes, you look hungry." "George." "Excuse me." "Thank you." "Right, Anson, the order of the day:" "sort out this motorcar." "Anson!" "Yes." "We can't be sitting around here forever waiting for some joker on a motorcycle." "We should be off." "Back into England or further into Wales?" "Well, to the north, north into Wales, really." "If it's rainin' here, it's rainin' more there." "You might as well wait here." "And the inns in North Wales..." "Come on, girl." "Let me in." "..." "like sleepin' in stables." "I'm so wet I'm melting." "Morning." "So?" "So what?" "You know!" "Last night." "Miss Elizabeth and the English." "Firstly, Miss Elizabeth died in her sleep and secondly, they're not animals like you, Morgan." "They're gentlemen." "An animal." "You're not very good at this, are you?" "Come on." "Concentrate." "That fool said he'd be here by 11:00." ""I'll have some news," he said. "I'll have the part from Cardiff," he said." "It's almost sodding noon!" "God, I hate the Welsh." "The roads are probably bad with the rain." "Well, come on, Anson." "Sorry." "Where are we going?" "Well, where the hell do you think?" "To get the car." "To get the car." "Yes." "The truth is that, while we Welsh like to believe that it was the mountains that beat the successive invaders it was, really, the weather that comes with mountains." "It was the rain that defeated every invader." "Anson!" "Yes, simple rain." "Yes, sir?" "I would like..." "Oh, God." "Anson." "We'd like to send a telegram, please." "Yes, sir." "I have been advised by my department that I can take a train from here to Pontypridd." "A passenger train." "Yes." "But you told me that there were no passenger trains." "Going east." "I didn't know you wanted to go north." "Why did you assume that I wanted to go east?" "You're English, and England is... east." "Anson." "Well, could we possibly then have 2 first-class second-class tickets to Pontypridd?" "To the north." "I'm sorry." "You could've gone yesterday, but you can't today." "Flooding on the line." "Flooding." "Gentlemen, success?" "Flooding." "As predicted in the Bible." "Yes, it's interesting actually, because the passenger trains seem to be affected by the flooding, but the coal trains are running as normal." "Different lines." "Yes, of course." "I knew there'd be a simple explanation, George." "See, it's different lines that they're on." "Shut up, Anson." "Now, please send some more blankets and a bottle of gin to my room." "Thank you." "It started rainin' Thursday night and it rained all Friday mornin'." "And it rained all Friday afternoon." "It seemed that the rain would never stop." "And for the first time, the Welsh and the English were united by the fact that there was nothin' to do but wait." "But then, on Sunday mornin' two miracles occurred:" "It stopped rainin' and, miracle of miracles Morgan the Goat talked to Reverend Jones." "Reverend Jones." "Morgan." "It stopped rainin'." "Yes, I'm quite aware of that." "There are no trains today." "Yes, yes." "There are no trains on the day of the Lord." "Look, what I'm sayin' is that today is our last chance to build the mountain." "But since it's Sunday, everyone will be in chapel." "Chapel will start at 10:30 as usual, Mr. Morgan." "But no one will work on a Sunday without your blessin'." "And tomorrow, the English will be on the mornin' train out and we'll have missed our chance." "They have telegrams and tickets and orders from head office." "I can't keep them here any longer." "It's today or never." "Chapel will start at 10:30, Mr. Morgan." "And it would make the good Lord very happy if for once you were here!" "Good morning." "Yes, it is." "A beautiful mornin'." "They're pretty." "Yes." "But not as pretty as me." "You're supposed to say that." "Betty!" "Didn't you hear me calling?" "I need a clean shirt." "Don't look at me." "Well, I would lend you one, but I'm afraid this is the only clean one I have." "My text for today comes from Psalm 99:" "Verse 9." ""Exalt the Lord our God and worship at His holy hill"." "First thing tomorrow?" "Yes." "Yes, I'm afraid so." "George had some pretty stern orders from London last night so we're off on the 8:30 train." "Whatever his state of health." "He was very drunk last night." "And the night before." ""A habit I picked up in India"." "Yes, I don't think he had enough to do out there, poor chap." "Oh, yeah." "You'd go mad here too." "No, I could live in a place like this." "I've enjoyed myself." "You have?" "I see it as a prayer made manifest in soil." "One day, our children's children will play where we are piling earth." "Elderly people will be able to see it from the valley and be reminded of their youth." "And therefore, even though it is a Sunday but especially because it is a Sunday you will see me immediately after this service climbing Ffynnon Garw with God's soil in my hand." "And I will build that mound and dedicate it to God." "I will build that mound in memory of our loved ones who will not return from war!" "And I will build that mound as a humble echo of the great mountains the Lord has given us." "And I will build that mound in celebration of the joy our mountain has given us!" "And I will build that mound knowing that the Lord God is with me." ""Exalt the Lord our God and worship at His holy hill"." "And I expect to see you all, huh?" "Up there!" "But don't think for one minute that you can sell beer on the Sabbath." "Though I must say I don't see what I could usefully do in a place like this." "Oh, it's easy for you." "You can do anything." "You're an educated man." "Well, I'm not really qualified to do very much." "I could teach, I suppose." "Oh, dear." "Sorry." "No, I..." "I was..." "I was going to ask you something personal." "It was probably indiscreet." "I don't mind." "Well, I just..." "You know, I..." "I know even less about you than I did about Miss Elizabeth." "Miss Elizabeth." "I couldn't keep that up for long." "Well, there's nothing very special about me." "I'm the kind of girl you usually don't notice." "I scuttle in with a tray of tea, bow my head and scuttle out." "I'd notice." "No, you wouldn't." "Not usually." "So, can I ask you something personal?" "How come you aren't in France?" "Well, I was." "I was..." "I went out with the first wave in 1914." "I was at Verdun." "I came back like Johnny." "I'm sorry." "But you're all right now." "You just need some lookin' after." "What on earth?" "All right, boys." "I'll see you up there." "We've got the miners now too." "Looks like a carnival." "I feel terribly responsible." "I hope your Mr. Garrad's ready." "We'll have a mountain for him to measure before tea time." "Tea wallah!" "It's Anson, George." "Anson." "Morning." "I just thought I might pop up the hill." "It seems the villagers have made a little, tiny alteration to the height." "I thought I might measure it." "Nothing much better to do, so..." "Capital." "Good for you." "You could probably use the fresh air." "Well, that's what I thought." "Yeah." "You don't want to join me?" "Where?" "Up the hill." "Good God, no, no, no." "I'll stay here if you don't mind." "Lots of paperwork." "Scads to catch up on and such." "Absolutely." "All right." "Say, you don't want me to open up a window or anything?" "I'm not sure that I can rely on Mr. Garrad." "But the thing is I will need an assistant." "I..." "You wouldn't..." "Me?" "Why not?" "Well, I've never been to Abyssinia or to Aden, or Sebastopol and I can't speak with a posh accent for long." "Well, I think we can get over that." "I'm just a maidservant." "Well, I don't think the word "just" could apply to you about anything." "Was that a compliment?" "Yes." "And now I'm going to blush, so would you help me, please?" "Since you said please and you're blushing', yes, I will." "Good." "Then prepare the engineer's transit, please." "The what?" "I'll show you." "This is extraordinary!" "When Morgan gets a bee in his bonnet..." "Let's keep the hands up." "You know, I think they're going to succeed." "Hello." "Hello, hello." "We'll have a mountain for your map." "Oh, indeed, I think you will." "I just hope you can finish it today." "We lost a lot in the rain, but we still have a chance." "Well, perhaps you should cover it with turf." "Turf?" "He means sod." "Sod?" "We'll need good sod." "A lot of good sod." "This is an outrage!" "How dare you?" "Have the council been informed?" "Does anyone have written permission?" "I mean, look at this." "It's madness!" "Stop actin' so English." "Go on up there." "Right, then, boys." "Carry on." "Absolutely everyone climbed Ffynnon Garw that day except Davies the School, of course and Johnny, who was happy to help down in the valley but too fearful to go up Ffynnon Garw again." "Thank you, Johnny." "I'll take that." "There's not much daylight left for a measurement." "Well, stop standing around and help." "Come on." "Look, I'm terribly sorry about the motorcar." "I covered it with tarpaulin, but I don't know." "The wind must've..." "Would that be this tarpaulin by any chance?" "Yes." "That's all right, Mr. Williams." "I wouldn't have missed this for the world." "It's Johnny." "It's Johnny!" "It was touch and go to finish while there was still light for Mr. Anson to measure." "And there are many who still say we would've succeeded but fate had one more trick up her sleeve." "Reverend Jones!" "Later, when we all talked we realized that Reverend Jones had climbed Ffynnon Garw 5 or 6 times that day enough to make a young, fit man stiff and definitely too much for a man of 82." "Yes." "We didn't know that either but Reverend Jones was 82." "And we thought he was just in his 60s." "Morgan!" "Morgan the Goat!" "Morgan." "Morgan." "He wants me?" "Yes." "Come closer." "Take my hand now." "I know I can count on you." "What's he saying?" "What's he saying?" "What's he saying?" "Get Jones the J.P.!" "The sergeant verified death but Jones the J.P. would have to consecrate the ground before the Reverend Jones could have his dyin' wish." "This plot of earth at the summit of Ffynnon Garw is duly consecrated to receive the mortal remains of our dear friend and spiritual leader the Reverend Robert Jones." "So you'll be takin' the first train out in the morning?" "Yes." "I'm afraid we will." "Fair is fair." "We had a damn good fight, didn't we?" "If it wasn't for the reverend..." "If it wasn't for the reverend, it wouldn't have been built in the first place." "True." "True enough." "Come on." "Well." "It will be measured again." "I mean..." "Perhaps we'll even come back through here on our return, and..." "You won't be back." "This isn't a place that people like you come back to." "Well, I'll try." "I'll really try." ""I'll try"?" "Is that the best you can do?" "After all they've done?" "All this work." "How would you like them to say it failed because of you?" "But what am I supposed to do?" "Measure it in the dark?" "Wait up here 'til the first light of dawn, and then race down..." "The sun's up at 5:00." "That's only a few hours away." "I'd keep you company." "Well, if it is that late and and the sun will be up soon, I..." "I mean, I may as well stay here and wait for dawn." "After all, we've come this far." "Good night." "Drink, Blod?" "Good night, Morgan." "They're in chapel." "It's Sunday." "What's yours?" "And so it was that Betty and Anson stayed a night on Ffynnon Garw." "Now you know what the Welsh say about people who stay on mountain peaks at night, don't you?" "They become poets, madmen, very, very wise, or..." "And when they descended, it was to announce that Ffynnon Garw was indeed a mountain of 1,002 feet and that they were engaged to be married." "Yes, it was an odd courtship but one befitting a man who went up a hill but came down a mountain." "And should you think this is just a shaggy-dog story told by a senile man to his young, impressionable grandson I'd ask you to come to South Wales to the village where I was born." "And as you drive north from Cardiff look for the first big hill not just a hill, but a mountain and the children of the people who built it." "However, just before this film was made, the mountain was remeasured and found to be 997 feet." "Thus the mound had settled back into a hill." "A hill?"