King Edward VIII was one of the few English monarchs who managed to combine an air of effortless superiority with the common touch. In November 1936, amid much cheering, hymn-singing and some grovelling, this glamorous playboy visited the derelict Dowlais ironworks, whose flaming labyrinths had until recently lit up the skies above Merthyr since the late eighteenth century. Keenly aware that Baldwin's government had virtually washed its hands of its responsibility to alleviate the social wounds caused by poverty, malnourishment and unemployment, the king moved among the people, pressing the flesh and visibly expressing his sense of shock and disbelief. There is no reason to believe that he was not speaking from the heart when he uttered the words, ‘something must be done’, a comment which passed into the folklore of Welsh working-class history. Nothing was done, however, and following a brief reign of ten months and nineteen days Edward VIII abdicated in order to marry a twice-divorced American. To most adult males in the South Wales Coalfield, whose lives had been disfigured by long-term unemployment and deprivation, this episode simply confirmed their belief that both kings and governments did not care a fig about their plight.

By contrast, the public mood in the pre-war years had been markedly different. All the evidence seemed to point to blooming material prosperity and vitality. The Welsh were bursting with confidence.