The Maid of Sker by R.D. Blackmore (Unabridged)

While keeping watch nearby, Davy accidentally overhears a private and heartfelt exchange between Drake Bamfylde and young Isabella. Their conversation, full of honesty and affection, contrasts sharply with the deceit and manipulation that have surrounded Davy in recent chapters. In their words, he glimpses a purer, simpler kind of love — one untouched by greed or ambition. Yet, as an uninvited listener, Davy must face the awkward knowledge that sometimes truth is found by chance, not invitation.This chapter offers a rare moment of emotional calm amid the intrigue of The Maid of Sker. Blackmore captures the innocence of young love with the same care he gives his depictions of duty and conflict. The scene also deepens the human texture of the novel’s Devon setting — the hedgerows, the quiet fields, and the shaded paths becoming witnesses to both secrecy and sincerity. For listeners, it’s a reminder that even in a story of smuggling, betrayal, and harsh seafaring life, tenderness still finds a voice.

Confined to his duties aboard a ship docked off Barnstaple, Davy finds himself torn between obedience and conscience.When Parson Chowne directs him to row upriver and make certain “observations,” Davy’s sense of purpose begins to waver. His motivations are clouded — part curiosity, part obligation, part unease — as he realises the errand may not be as innocent as it seems.This chapter marks a turning point in Davy’s moral journey. His “duty” to Parson Chowne sets up a growing conflict between personal integrity and obedience to authority — a common theme in Victorian storytelling. The setting along the River Taw, where land and sea meet, mirrors Davy’s own uncertainty between right and wrong. Blackmore’s portrayal of conflicting loyalties here reflects both his deep moralism and his sharp awareness of human frailty.Pronunciation is always a challenge when working with the cadence and emphasis of local dialects and accents - whilst ‘Laleston’ is a struggle for those who are not local, it is the word ‘dingy’ which may ring out here since it is pronounced as written not ‘dinghy’ as now written and pronounced in and around Porthcawl.

This chapter brings an uneasy meeting with Parson Chowne, whose reputation already casts a long shadow. What begins as a polite visit soon reveals tension beneath the surface — courtesy masking calculation, and hospitality edged with menace. Blackmore’s writing here is rich in atmosphere, blending Devon’s rural calm with the disquiet that follows when power and morality collide.Encounters like this one reflect Blackmore’s fascination with the moral authority of the clergy and the misuse of influence in small communities. In creating Parson Chowne, he drew from local tales of domineering country parsons who ruled their parishes through fear as much as faith — a theme that resonates far beyond its Victorian setting.In this chapter, Blackmore uses the term “naked people” in a way that reflects the language and social attitudes of the 19th century rather than our own. The phrase does not refer to nudity in a literal sense, but to individuals seen as uncivilised or lacking refinement according to Victorian standards. Such expressions were common in literature of the period and often carried undertones of class or racial prejudice that are unacceptable today.The unabridged reading preserves this language for historical accuracy, allowing modern listeners to understand how everyday speech once reflected the biases of its time. We include it here with the clear understanding that these views are not endorsed, but are part of the cultural record from which we can learn.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and North Devon, this episode continues the thread of local realism mixed with moral drama — where the church door may open not only to faith, but also to fear.

In this quietly revealing chapter, set in a noisy pub on fair day in Barnstaple, Blackmore invites us to look more closely at one of his most unsettling figures — Parson Chowne. There is, as the title suggests, something about him that commands attention and unease in equal measure. Through rumour, reaction, and reflection, we begin to sense the darker undercurrents of power, charisma, and fear that surround this man.Through the character of Parson Chowne, Blackmore explores the darker side of religious authority. Victorian readers would have recognised his type — a clergyman whose social standing gave him power, but whose conduct betrayed the values he was meant to uphold. Blackmore often used such figures to criticise hypocrisy and moral corruption within institutions that claimed moral superiority. In The Maid of Sker, Parson Chowne’s presence acts as both warning and commentary, showing how influence, when unchecked by conscience, can warp an entire community.For listeners from Porthcawl, Kenfig, and North Devon, this episode offers a glimpse into the moral tensions of the age — when outward respectability could mask something far more complex beneath the surface.

The scene shifts from coast and countryside to the bustle of a Barnstaple town fair, where Boutport Street and Bear Street are alive with noise, colour, and spectacle. Amidst the crowds, we meet two striking figures for the first time — Parson Chowne and Parson Jack Rambone. Blackmore draws inspiration here from the notorious Reverend John Froude (often written Founde), one of Devon’s infamous “Hunting Parsons”, clergymen remembered as much for their unruly behaviour and mischief as for their ministry. The “Hunting Parsons” were clergymen in 18th and early 19th-century Devon who gained notoriety for their rowdy lifestyles. Rather than setting a pious example, some became infamous for drinking, gambling, womanising, and even leading hunting parties across parish boundaries. The most notorious was Rev. John Froude of Knowstone and East Anstey, remembered for spreading mayhem in his community and inspiring local legends. Blackmore’s characters Parson Chowne and Parson Jack Rambone reflect this reputation — blending historical memory with fiction to create vivid, larger-than-life figures who bring both menace and energy to the novel.This chapter blends lively fairground atmosphere with sharp character study, marking a turning point in the novel’s cast of personalities.For listeners from South Wales and North Devon, it’s a reminder that Blackmore rooted his fiction in the real quirks, legends, and reputations of the communities he knew.

The story crosses the Bristol Channel to the windswept Braunton Burrows of North Devon, a vast expanse of shifting dunes and wild nature. The area has many parallels with Kenfig holding its own stories of a town buried under the sand. In this chapter, the landscape becomes almost a character in itself — a place of danger, concealment, and testing for those who venture there. Blackmore’s eye for detail brings the setting alive, contrasting with the familiar South Wales coast we have come to know.The mention of Braunton Burrows highlights the strong historical links between South Wales and North Devon. For centuries, small sailing vessels crossed the Bristol Channel carrying limestone from Glamorgan’s quarries to North Devon, where it was burned in limekilns for agriculture and building. In return, cargoes such as farm produce and migrant workers often made the return trip. These coastal trades, worked by local crews under the stern “stone captains,” bound communities on both sides of the water together — a connection reflected in Blackmore’s choice of setting for this part of the story.For listeners from Porthcawl, Kenfig, and Newton, the chapter reminds us of the close ties once shared across the water — with ships, trade, and stories flowing between Glamorgan and North Devon.

Partings are rarely simple in Blackmore’s world, and this chapter lingers on the emotions stirred by a farewell that stretches longer than expected. Words left unsaid, glances held too long, and the weight of uncertainty give this goodbye its poignancy.In this chapter, David Llewellyn faces the harsh truth that fishing alone can no longer sustain him, and so he must sign up to go back to sea. His story reflects the real struggles of many South Wales men whose livelihoods depended on shifting tides and uncertain catches. Some became sailors under the stern stone captains, who commanded vessels trading limestone between the South Wales coast and North Devon. Blackmore also roots the tale in a very specific local setting — the Welcome to Town Inn, not the recently demolished Bridgend pub of the same name, but a long-forgotten inn that once stood near The Globe on Newton Nottage Road in Newton, Porthcawl. Such details bring the novel closer to the lived history of the region.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding coast, this chapter will strike a familiar chord — echoing the bittersweet leave-takings that are part of life in every close-knit community. Whether at the quayside, on the sandhills, or at the threshold of a home, goodbyes carry both sorrow and hope for return.

Blackmore shifts from beaches and chance encounters to the weightier world of money and property. In this chapter, characters look to secure their future through “sound investments” — but the choices they make reveal as much about ambition and social standing as they do about financial sense.It’s a reminder of how fortunes in the 19th century were built not only on trade and inheritance but also on careful dealings and, at times, risky ventures.In Victorian Glamorgan, land ownership and careful investment were central to status and security. Families who held property near Kenfig, Porthcawl, and along the coast not only secured their livelihoods but also shaped their standing within the community. Blackmore’s focus on “sound investments” reflects this reality, where wealth was often measured in acres as much as in coins.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the wider South Wales coast, this chapter touches on themes that would have felt familiar to local families — the balance between land, wealth, and reputation in a community where status mattered as much as security.

Colonel Lougher and Lady Bluett take a September afternoon coach ride to Sker beach, expecting peace, quiet, and the gentle warmth of late sunshine. But Blackmore has other plans: their outing brings unexpected company, turning a genteel visit into something far less predictable.This chapter shines with contrasts — the elegance of high society against the rugged sands of the South Wales coast, and the surprise of chance meetings that can change the tone of an afternoon. Colonel Lougher and Lady Bluett are based on historic South Wales families with deep roots in Glamorgan. The Loughers were prominent landowners, while the Bluetts held estates near the coast. Blackmore’s inclusion of these figures reflects the local social hierarchy of the 19th century and adds a touch of historical authenticity to the seaside setting of Sker beach.For listeners in Cornelly, Pyle, Kenfig Hill, Porthcawl, and the surrounding coast, the chapter paints a familiar picture of the late summer light on Sker beach. On Sundays, street by street, groups of families would put children in prams and push-chairs, dogs on leads, buckets, spades and old inner tubes, bottles of squash and pop and sandwiches in Tupperware boxes and make their way to Sker, Pink Bay and Rest Bay. Mams would talk, Dads would smoke and kids would play…..and then they’d all stop to pick Dewberries and Blackberries from the dunes and Lock’s Common to be made into pies for Sunday tea - ready for school and work on Monday.

Hopes rise, only to be dashed again. Sir Philip and Anthony Stew return from Porthcawl and there a hints of things to come but no resolutions readily to hand. In this chapter, Blackmore reminds us that fortune rarely favours his characters for long. Promises prove empty, expectations crumble, and the sting of disappointment leaves its mark. Yet within the frustration, we glimpse the persistence of those determined to keep going despite setbacks.This chapter’s theme of disappointment mirrors the ebb and flow of coastal life in South Wales — where storms could undo a day’s labour and fortunes turned quickly. It’s a reminder of the resilience of communities who, like Blackmore’s characters, endured setbacks yet carried on.More Dickens than a Ruth Jones’ page-turner or the historical drama’s of Netflix, the slow-moving narrative reflects the ‘serialisation’ form in which it was presented to its readers. Hopefully, the immersive audio format will help in ‘placing’ and ‘maintaining’ events that are slowly unfolding.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding coast and countryside, this chapter reflects the ebb and flow of life itself — where every gain seems tempered by fresh trial, and endurance becomes its own quiet victory.

The courtroom drama spills into the kitchen as late in the evening a travelling magistrate and an investigator pay an unexpected visit to the Llewellyn home as R.D. Blackmore turns his sharp eye on the process of cross-examination. Prosecutors accuse and the witness stumbles, as truth becomes harder to pin down. Blackmore captures both the tension and the theatre of Victorian justice, where words could twist as easily as they could reveal.We hear talk of Appledore - in North Devon - with its rich heritage of boat building, illustrating the closeness of the links and inter-connection between North Devon and the South Wales coasts, particularly interesting for listeners around Porthcawl, the sandhills of Kenfig, North and South Cornelly, Nottage and Newton, with long-ago family connections to Devon. This chapter also offers a vivid glimpse of how justice was argued and contested in the 19th century. It’s not just about right or wrong, but about how well a case can be made under pressure — something as relevant today as it was then.

In this chapter, R.D. Blackmore shifts the pace from storms and smuggling to quieter but no less important matters: private conversation. “Confidential intercourse” — in 19th-century usage — simply means confidential exchange of words, not what the modern reader might assume. It’s about the secrets, suspicions, and truths passed in private, with the potential to change everything.Blackmore’s skill lies in showing how whispered words can carry as much weight as public verdicts or dramatic events. Trust, secrecy, and the power of speech all come into play, reminding us that the fate of individuals and communities can hinge on what is spoken behind closed doors.With the arrival of an unexpected, and important visitor from nearby Pencoed, for listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this chapter captures another facet of Victorian life — where honour and reputation were often shaped as much in private as in public.

In this chapter, R.D. Blackmore turns his attention to the darker side of coastal life. Davy’s “craft beyond the law” plies its trade outside the reach of justice, reminding readers how the sea could shelter secrecy, smuggling, and crime.Smuggling was a widespread problem along the South Wales coast from the 17th to the early 19th century. The long, rugged shoreline — full of coves, inlets, and shifting sands — made it ideal for landing contraband under cover of darkness.The main goods were brandy, wine, rum, gin, tea, and tobacco — all heavily taxed by the government. Smuggling offered cheaper alternatives, and whole communities could benefit from turning a blind eye. The Glamorgan coast, including Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the Gower, was notorious for smuggling landings.Hidden cellars and secret passages in farmhouses and inns were often used to conceal goods.Kenfig Pool and the surrounding sandhills were sometimes rumoured to hide stashes.By Blackmore’s time in the mid-19th century, large-scale smuggling was in decline, but the tales and legends lived on. His “craft beyond the law” echoes a very real history along the South Wales coast.Smuggling wasn’t only the work of sailors. Local farmers, fishermen, and even clergy were occasionally implicated. Villagers might help carry kegs inland in return for a share. Silence was part of survival.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this chapter resonates with the long history of smuggling and wrecking along the Glamorgan coast, where the line between survival and illegality was often thin.

In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the verdict of the court is followed by the verdict of the crowd. “Public approbation.” The praise or approval of the people (gathered at 'The Jolly Sailor' in Newton for an evening's drinking and more generally as he goes about his business selling fresh fish) — becomes as powerful as any legal judgment. Blackmore captures how reputations rise or fall not just on evidence, but on gossip, applause, and the shifting moods of community opinion.It’s a keen reminder that justice in Victorian society was never delivered in a vacuum — the voice of the people could be as loud as the gavel. Newspapers from as far as Hereford and Bristol are studied and discussed, as are the merits of the liquor and tobacco which come into Porthcawl with the weekly press from these far distant towns.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this chapter highlights how the rhythms of local life, law, and reputation were tightly woven together, reflecting a world that is both distant and strangely familiar today.

Sometimes a change of place offers a change of perspective. In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the scene shifts, bringing fresh air — both literally and figuratively — into the story. Characters seek rest, relief, or renewal away from their usual surroundings, and Blackmore uses the movement to reveal new details and deepen his portrait of 19th-century life.This pause in the narrative’s intensity allows readers and listeners to breathe with the characters, while still keeping the undercurrents of fate and justice alive.In this chapter, Blackmore refers to ‘Maudlin Church,’ which is the historic local name for the 13th Century Mawdlam Church, dedicated to St Mary Magdalene serving the now-lost borough of Kenfig. The shift in spelling reflects older usage and reminds us of the deep medieval roots of the Kenfig area. The dedication to St Mary Magdalene explains the old-fashioned rendering "Maudlin," which was a common phonetic spelling of Magdalene in earlier centuries. Over time, "maudlin" also picked up its modern meaning of being tearful or sentimental, but in Blackmore's context, it's a historical name tied to the saint - and the spoken pronunciation in this chapter reflects local usage.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, it’s another reminder of how this forgotten classic combines local roots with universal human experiences.

R.D. Blackmore gives this chapter a striking title drawn from an old proverb: “Truth lies at the bottom of a well.” As in the modern writings of Haruki Murakami, in now popular works such as 'The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle,' this darkening of the narrative suggests that truth is often hidden, buried, or difficult to draw out — much like water that must be hauled up with effort.In this part of the story, appearances, testimony, and rumours continue to circle around events, but the deeper reality proves elusive. Intriguingly, we learn a little more about the motives of Hezekiah, whose name reflects the Biblical Hebrew King of Judah. Blackmore weaves together irony, philosophy, and sharp observation of human nature, showing how justice and truth can be clouded by circumstance and self-interest.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode continues the rediscovery of a long-out-of-print novel — one that combines local colour with timeless reflections on morality, justice, and the human condition.

In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the spotlight falls not only on the verdict delivered, but also on the jurors themselves. Blackmore offers a sharp and sometimes satirical look at the men charged with deciding justice, questioning their motives, their judgment, and the weight of local influence in shaping the outcome.It’s a chapter that blends legal drama with social commentary, showing how Victorian communities wrestled with truth, fairness, and authority.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode continues the rediscovery of a long-forgotten story — one that captures both the flavour of South Wales and the universal struggles of justice and human character.

In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the drama of the inquest continues. Testimony is weighed, facts are examined, and decisions are made “in accordance with the evidence.” Through these proceedings, Blackmore explores themes of justice, truth, and the gulf between appearances and reality in Victorian society.The chapter brings formality and tension, set against the backdrop of a community where reputation, class, and circumstance could shape outcomes as much as the facts themselves.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode keeps alive a forgotten classic — a story deeply rooted in the places and people of South Wales, now brought back to life chapter by chapter.

This chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker combines legal drama with social observation, as a coroner’s inquest and the weight of a coronet bring questions of justice, class, and truth into focus. Blackmore’s eye for detail gives a vivid picture of Victorian society at its most formal.Content Note: This chapter also contains racist language and attitudes. These words reflect prejudices of the 19th century which are offensive and unacceptable today. They remain in this unabridged reading so that the novel can be experienced as it was written — but listeners may choose to skip this episode if they prefer.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode is another step in rediscovering a long out-of-print book. By presenting it in full, we can both enjoy its story and reflect critically on the outdated attitudes of the past.

In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the focus turns from catching fish to selling them. With wit and sharp observation, the narrator reveals the tricks, challenges, and small triumphs of turning a hard-earned catch into a living. Beneath the humour lies a glimpse of everyday coastal life, where survival depended on skill, quick thinking, and knowing how to strike a bargain.Blackmore captures the rhythm of local trade, painting a lively picture of Bridgend market and people who shaped South Wales mentioning Laleston, Tythegston and Newton in passing, giving us a unique snapshot of our area in the Victorian age.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode brings another taste of a forgotten classic — reminding us how work, wit, and the sea sustained whole communities.

Shipwreck and salvage were part of life along the South Wales coast, and in this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, we meet a wrecker who finds the tables suddenly turned. The dangers of the sea — and the greed it could inspire — come sharply into focus as fate delivers an unexpected reckoning.Blackmore blends drama, morality, and the ever-present power of the ocean, reminding readers that the sea gives, but it also takes away.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode offers another glimpse of the harsh but compelling world that shaped both local history and the pages of this long out-of-print novel.

This chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker contains language and attitudes which today are rightly recognised as racist and offensive. Listeners may wish to skip this episode. While we in no way condone the views expressed by the narrator, the unabridged recording has been maintained to give a true reflection of the novel as it was written in the 19th century.The inclusion of these words and sentiments highlights why The Maid of Sker would not be published in the same form today. Some things are best left “Under the Rock” — but hearing them in context - the depiction of a shipwreck at Sker - allows us to learn from the mistakes of the past and understand more clearly the world in which Blackmore was writing.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this chapter remains part of our literary heritage, even as we acknowledge and challenge the prejudices it reveals.

In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the shifting sands of the Glamorgan coast become both setting and symbol. What once seemed solid ground gives way to treacherous sand-holes, reflecting the uncertainty and danger that life by the sea could bring. The narrator’s experiences here capture both the beauty and the peril of the South Wales shoreline — a landscape that could nurture, but just as easily betray.Blackmore’s vivid descriptions root the story firmly in Kenfig and Porthcawl, where dunes, sands, and sea have shaped centuries of local history.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode is another chance to hear your own landscape immortalised in a Victorian novel long out of print, now brought back to life.

In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the focus shifts to the mischievousness and playfulness of childhood. Through lively scenes, Blackmore reminds us that whatever hardships life may bring, children will always find ways to laugh, play, and sometimes cause a little chaos. The children weave the English, Welsh and French languages into their play. Their energy brings warmth and humour into the story, balancing the struggles and mysteries of the South Wales coast.By portraying these moments of innocence into the narrative, Blackmore anchors the novel not just in history and legend, but also in the universal truth of family and community life.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode offers another glimpse of a long out-of-print classic — a story where even the small, playful moments connect us to the past.

The sea once again takes centre stage in this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker. Here, the narrator recounts a lively clash between village life and the peace of the dunes — a scene filled with humour, quick wits, and the unpredictable turns of nature along the South Wales coast. What seems at first like a simple episode at sea carries hints of the resourcefulness needed to survive where land, water, and wildlife meet.Blackmore uses the moment to show the vitality of coastal life, blending adventure with the rhythms of the natural world.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode brings another glimpse of a novel rooted in local shores and legends — rediscovered here, chapter by chapter, for the first time in generations.

In this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, the story turns toward shelter and belonging. The narrator, with the “little orphan mermaid” now in his care, must seek out a place of safety and stability. What he finds is not a perfect refuge, but it is a beginning — a home of some sort, Sker House where survival can grow into something more.Blackmore weaves compassion and practicality into this part of the tale, showing how even in the harsh world of the South Wales coast, kindness and responsibility can create a fragile foundation for the future.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode brings the novel’s local landscapes and legends closer still — revealing how a long out-of-print story continues to echo with themes of home, care, and community.

The story takes a poignant turn in this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker. What begins as an unusual catch from the sea is revealed to be a helpless child — described as “a little orphan mermaid.” Her sudden appearance brings mystery, compassion, and a new sense of responsibility into the narrator’s life, marking a turning point in the tale.Blackmore blends the harsh realities of coastal survival with moments of tenderness, showing how fate and the sea shape the lives of those along the South Wales shore.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this chapter deepens the rediscovery of a long out-of-print novel rooted in the very landscapes and legends of your community.

What begins as an ordinary fishing trip takes an extraordinary turn in this chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker. Our narrator finds himself reeling in more than he bargained for — an unexpected “catch” that hints at deeper mysteries waiting to unfold along the South Wales coast.Blackmore weaves humour, surprise, and suspense into the everyday act of fishing, showing how quickly fortune can shift when hunger, the sea, and chance collide.For listeners in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this episode continues the rediscovery of a forgotten classic — a novel once known by name, now brought back to life in full for the first time in generations.

Hunger is still our narrator’s companion as he casts his line once more — but in this chapter, the sea’s creatures prove just as desperate for a meal. With wit and patience, he wrestles with the challenges of fishing along the South Wales coast, where fortune can turn with the tide.R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker paints a vivid picture of life bound to the sea and its rhythms, capturing the struggles and humour of a man who must match his wits against both hunger and nature.For the people of Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area, this podcast brings home a story rooted in familiar waters — a rare chance to hear, chapter by chapter, a novel long out of print yet deeply tied to this coast.

In this second episode of our unabridged reading of R.D. Blackmore’s The Maid of Sker, our narrator’s empty stomach pushes him to take up his fishing gear. But the day’s venture is far from a simple hunt for supper — the waters, the weather, and unexpected encounters all add colour and tension to the tale.Set against the familiar yet long-ago coastline of Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the Bristol Channel, this chapter blends local history, maritime adventure, and the author’s keen eye for detail.For those in Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding area who have heard of The Maid of Sker but never read it, this is another chance to enjoy the story exactly as Blackmore wrote it — a rare piece of our coastal heritage brought back to life.

Step back in time to the rugged South Wales coast with an unabridged reading of the opening chapter of R.D. Blackmore’s classic — and now long out-of-print — novel The Maid of Sker. First published in the 19th century, this tale is steeped in the atmosphere of Porthcawl, Kenfig, and the surrounding coastline.In this first chapter, we meet the narrator and are drawn into a story shaped by the wild sea, the shifting sands of Kenfig, and the secrets of the past. Hints of mystery emerge alongside vivid descriptions of the landscape and the characters who will shape the journey ahead.This podcast is especially for the people of Porthcawl, Kenfig, and nearby communities — those who may have heard the name The Maid of Sker but never had the chance to read or listen to it. Now you can hear it in full, exactly as it was written, and reconnect with a piece of your local heritage.