In the rolling Welsh hills, where the mists of the Bannau Brycheiniog (Brecon Beacons) swirl around ancient farmlands, the clang of hammer on anvil echoes from a modest forge. Here, Paul Dennis, a 77-year-old blacksmith whose roots run deep in these valleys, is marking 50 years at the heart of his craft—a journey that has taken him from a humble cowshed to the grandest halls of royalty and beyond.
"I remember standing in my cowshed and saying to my wife 'one day I'm going to work for the Queen' and we were surrounded by cow dung and stalls," Dennis recalled, as reported by BBC. That audacious dream, made amid the muck and straw, seemed far-fetched at the time. Yet, decades later, Dennis’s handiwork would not only grace Windsor Castle and Westminster Abbey but also stand guard over the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London.
Dennis’s story is one of grit, tradition, and a stubborn refusal to let go of a passion for shaping metal. His family’s history with the forge stretches back hundreds of years—his father was a farrier, his grandfather built wire machinery, and his ancestors were nail makers. Growing up on a farm near Ystrad Mynach in south Wales, Dennis knew a life of self-reliance. There was no electricity, and comforts were few and far between. By age 12, he was already restoring cars, fixing engines for local businesses, and learning the value of hard, honest work.
After leaving school at 16 without qualifications, Dennis joined his father in shoeing horses, earning what he described as "the equivalent of 75p per horse and the chance to be kicked." It was hardly a promising future, but fate had other plans. A commission to make gates for the rose gardens at Dyffryn Gardens, a Victorian estate outside Cardiff, set him on a new path. "I made these gates – I was 17 and they're still there now. I thought, 'this is it, it's what I want to do'," Dennis said, reflecting on the moment his calling became clear.
In his 20s, Dennis struck out on his own, opening a business that would eventually become a family affair. The pivotal moment came in 1983, when he was tasked with restoring the ornate Edney gates at Newport’s Tredegar House—a job that would take two years and required him to painstakingly rebuild the gates from just 15% of their original material. "I found myself cleaning what's left of the scrolls back and I started to get the style of the blacksmith, who was called William Edney," Dennis explained, emphasizing his commitment to authenticity. "When you're doing wrought iron, every blacksmith will do it slightly differently. I was determined I was going to do it exactly the same. I copied and copied and I managed to restore these gates back to what they look like now."
The restoration’s success brought Dennis to the attention of the royal household. A call from Kensington Palace—then home to Prince Charles and Princess Diana—seemed almost unreal. "I couldn't believe it. I thought, 'I'm never going to get this'," Dennis admitted. But get it he did, and soon he was designing gates and railings to separate the palace’s private gardens from the public. There were creative disagreements: "They didn't want [metal] flowers on the gates. It was me that covered them in flowers. They wanted to keep it plain and boring," Dennis recounted. He added Yorkshire roses, Welsh daffodils, and Irish shamrocks, and even had to remake the crowns atop the gates after being told the number of decorative "dibbles" implied the wrong rank. "I think it was 11," he recalled with a chuckle.
Tragically, the gates would later become a focal point for national mourning, as they were "covered in flowers when Princess Diana died," Dennis remembered. The moment was a poignant reminder of how the objects he creates can become woven into the very fabric of public life and memory.
His reputation cemented, Dennis spent the next 25 years working for the Royal Household and Historic Royal Palaces, taking on commissions that would daunt even the most seasoned artisans. "I got the amazing job for the Crown Jewels, to do all the metalwork package, all the protection for the Crown Jewels. That was absolutely terrifying at the time," he confessed. His skills were called upon again after the devastating Windsor Castle fire in 1992, when he was entrusted with the entire metalwork package for the restoration. "I've still got a load of stuff from then that I'm not allowed to just sell, but it's from St George's Hall, all the nails and bits of furniture, bits of pieces which I use in restoration whenever I can," Dennis explained, a testament to his reverence for history and material.
While Dennis’s work has taken him to some of Britain’s most storied sites, his career has also spanned continents. He’s built stairs for Microsoft’s Seattle headquarters—"I had to build the stairs here and then ship it over there and hope it fits," he said, recalling the city’s omnipresent coffee aroma that kept him wide awake for a week. He’s even had brushes with danger, including working for the mafia. "I've been threatened to be killed twice. If I didn't finish the stairs he was going to have me killed. He was very good in the end. He paid for everything and it went all right," Dennis recounted with a surprising nonchalance.
Despite once employing 16 people, Dennis realized he had drifted from his true love: shaping metal with his own hands. He scaled back the business, which is now managed by his son Gareth, with his son-in-law and two daughters also involved. The forge remains a family affair, rooted in tradition but always embracing new challenges.
Now, as he celebrates five decades in the trade, Dennis is as busy as ever. He’s restoring parts of Smithfield Market in London ahead of its transformation into the London Museum’s new headquarters in 2026, and crafting new gates for Albany Mansions in Piccadilly, a historic residence to prime ministers, poets, and playboys alike.
For Dennis, the excitement of the craft hasn’t faded. "I didn't think I'd be doing this now – I'm 77 and I thought 'I'm not going to be doing this' and yet I can't stop. I'm as excited as I was in the 1960s," he said, his passion undimmed by age or accolades.
From a cowshed in Wales to the palaces of royalty, Paul Dennis’s journey is a testament to the enduring power of craftsmanship, family, and the belief that even the loftiest dreams can be forged into reality—one hammer blow at a time.
