Cambria Magazine Spring 2010 by Chris Jones

WALES’S MAGAZINE

cambria Cylchgrawn Cenedlaethol Cymru

The National Magazine of Wales

£3.50 €3.50

VOLUME/CYFROL 11 NUMBER/RHIF 5

Opposing St Athan The Shrine of St David Charlotte Guest and the Mabinogi

HYWEL TEIFI EDWARDS 1934-2010

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CONTENTS VOLUME 11 NUMBER 5

8 8 8

EDITOR’S LETTER

LETTERS

POLITICS& OPINION

CLIVE BETTS, STEPHEN THOMAS

‘FLAMETHROWER OF WELSH HISTORY’

pays tribute to a giant of a Welshman Hywel Teifi Edwards, patriot and historian, who died at the start of the year. cambria

THE WELSH DESERT visits the wild heartland of the Cambrian Mountains so aptly described by Harri Webb as ‘The Green Desert’.

KEITH FAICHNEY

THE SHRINE OF ST DAVID tells the story of the shrine of our Patron Saint and describes the history and the many legends surrounding his remains. PATRICK THOMAS

THE TRANSLATOR OF THE MABINOGI examines the life and work of Lady Charlotte Guest who fell in love with Wales and translated one of our national treasures into English.

GWENLLIAN MEREDITH

8 8 8 8

ALUN WYN BOWEN

Nigel Owens, international Rugby referee: ‘Gwendraeth’s finest’

DAVID JONES

Vivian Hewitt - pioneer aviator

TRAVEL

GWYN GRIFFITHS

LITERATURE

MUSIC & OPERA

36 45 46 48 50

ENVIRONMENT

DAVID R. JONES

CULTURAL HISTORY

JOHN AITCHISON

ART

MEIC STEPHENS

GARDENS NATURE

59 63

MOTORING

JOHN E. EDWARDS:

DIRECTORY

The best places to eat in Wales

FOOD

DOROTHY DAVIES

HOTELS

THE LANGHAM,

ONLOOKER

Tour de France founder visits Wales

WHAT’S HOT

cambria’s

BOOKS POETRY

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

HERITAGE

Y CLAWR / THE COVER:

on Celtic entrepreneurs

on Gilfach Goch; PAUL GROVES on Herbert Williams

SAM ADAMS

MEIC STEPHENS

on the publishing scene in Wales

ROBERT NISBET; GRAHAM THOMAS MEIC STEPHENS NORMA LORD:

JIM PRATT:

on The Bardic Chair - Y Gadair Farddol

Cappucino Girls; Les Misérables on river restoration in Sir Gâr - ‘From Bodnant to Berezovsky’

on Arthur Giardelli

‘The Potacre neighbours of Margiad Evans’

CHRIS KINSEY

on kestrels Honouring Gravells

- a leek dish for St David’s Day

London; OSBOURNE HOUSE, Llandudno

guide to events and exhibitions around Wales

Hywel Teifi Edwards speaking at the funeral of Ray Gravell, 15th November 2007 © Carl Ryan

CONTRIBUTORS 11 NUMBER 2010 IONAWR-CHWEFROR

VOLUME JANUARY-FEBRUARY

is Canon Librarian of St Davids Cathedral and a cambria veteran.

PATRICK THOMAS

MEIC STEPHENS, is a journalist and poet and has written, edited and translated some 150 books about our country’s culture.

FOUNDER & PUBLISHER

represents cambria in the press section of the National Assembly.

Jan Morris D. Huw John Siân Phillips Dr R. Brinley Jones John Elfed Jones John Hefin Dr Arturo L Roberts Mary Lloyd Jones Meredydd Evans

Henry Jones-Davies PATRONS

CLIVE BETTS

GWYN GRIFFITHS is a journalist, author and renowned authority on Breton history, art and culture.

JOHN A. EDWARDS

is a Welsh motoring journalist of many years experience.

EDITOR

Frances Jones-Davies POLITICAL EDITOR

Clive Betts FEATURES EDITOR

Frances Davies LITERARY EDITOR

Meic Stephens EDITOR-AT-LARGE

Siôn T. Jobbins NORMA LORD is a lifelong opera lover and music journalist.

ADVISORY BOARD

Professor Meic Stephens Aneurin Jones Jonathan Adams Myrddin ap Dafydd Wil Aaron Menna Elfyn Elisabeth Luard David Gravell

teaches at a university in the Middle East. Her publications include articles on Medieval women.

DR GWENLLIAN MEREDITH

is a professional photographer specialising in extreme sports photography. CARL RYAN

RESEARCH EDITOR

Rhobert ap Steffan MOTORING EDITOR

John A Edwards ART DIRECTION

Simon Wigley PHOTOGRAPHY

David Williams, Carl Ryan, Mari Sterling, John Keates

is a poet who won the 2008 BBC Wildlife Poet of the Year Competition.

CHRIS KINSEY

WEBMASTER

is a professional photographer specialising in the landscape of Wales.

MARI STERLING

- THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES © 2010. All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be reproduced by any means without the prior permission of the publisher in writing. cambria is published bimonthly by Cyhoeddwyr Cymrica Cyfyngedig, PO BOX 22, CAERFYRDDIN/CARMARTHEN, SA32 7YH, Cymru/Wales. ISSN: 1366-0675. All material submitted must be accompanied by a stamped, selfaddressed envelope. The publisher will not be held responsible for loss, damage or any other injury to unsolicited manuscripts or artwork (including drawings, photographs, and transparencies). We cannot guarantee a response to unsolicited matter. cambria magazine has made every effort to ensure that proper permission has been obtained for the reproduction of all illustrations in this issue, and we apologise unreservedly for any errors or oversights. Views and opinions expressed by individual writers in this magazine do not necessarily reflect those of the editor or the publisher. All information in this publication has been verified to the best of the authors’ and publishers’ ability; however Cyhoeddwyr Cymrica Cyfyngedig does not accept responsibility for any loss arising from reliance on it. Subscriptions for 6 issues: British Isles £18 - All other countries £28. Single copies: £3.50 plus 70p postage. The first copy of a new subscription application will be mailed by second class post for addresses in the British Isles, and by surface mail for the rest of the world. Please allow 6 weeks for overseas delivery. Argraffwyd gan: HSW Print, Tonypandy. cambria

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Chris Jones

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FROM THE EDITOR

WE HAVE LOST A VERY DEAR FRIEND IN HYWEL TEIFI EDWARDS, AND WALES HAS LOST A PEERLESS PATRIOT AND A DOUGHTY CHAMPION.

His absolute belief in Wales, his passion for Welsh history and for the nation’s right - destiny - of self-determination are a lesson and an inspiration to all. His humour, his turn of phrase and his mastery of the finest aspects and nuances of both languages are irreplaceable. Nobody can possibly have met him or heard him speak without having felt the profound imprint of his incredible personality. We are immensely privileged - and hugely honoured - to be able to say ‘he was our friend’. We were incredibly touched when, early in the morning on Christmas Day in 2008, he rang Henry and I to tell us that he was dedicating his book, The National Pageant of Wales, to us both. This excellent book is essential reading to discover Hywel Teifi’s views on what it is to be Welsh. This reminds me of the speech he gave at the 2005 National St. David’s Day Parade in Cardiff when he berated, in stinging, excoriating tones those still sitting in Cardiff ’s warm cafés (it was snowing) for not pouring out and joining us to celebrate our national day. I remember also how often he reiterated that it is not the English who are our enemies, or that all our problems can be ascribed to them, but it was down to our own apathy, our own weakness, our own failure of will, our own lack of patriotism; in particular, it was our own lack of backbone he hated so much. In the memory of this giant of a Welshman, come and join us on this year’s National St David’s Day Parade at 12.30 on Monday, 1st March outside City Hall. The other day a man from the Valleys telephoned. He hadn’t been able to find Cambria in his local newsagent; he told me that, having seen a copy of hywel teifi edwards Cambria in a friend’s house, it had answered a need he hadn’t realised he had, a thirst for knowing more about what he felt was his true history - the core of his being. Hywel Teifi told us that we ourselves didn’t know how important Cambria was, how it spoke to people, moved them and inspired them. When Henry and our son Tomos visited him in hospital a few days before he died he told them - only half in jest - that he would miss his Cambria when he was gone. Cambria is here because of him, because of Gwynfor, and because of, and for, all of you who believe, and it is produced in honour of all the heroes of Wales, sung and unsung - today’s and yesterday’s. It is the spirit of Hywel Teifi that will make the Wales of tomorrow. Henffych well, Hywel Teifi! Llewyrched goleuni gwastadol arno.

FRANCES JONES-DAVIES

LLONGYFARCHIADAU! Congratulations to Alan Baker of Bwlch, Powys, winner of

Cambria’s

Christmas Quiz.

MYFYRDOD

We must not let our rulers load us with perpetual debt. THOMAS JEFFERSON

(1743–1826) Of Welsh descent, principal author of the American Declaration of Independence and third President of the United States.- in a letter to the historian Samuel Kercheval, 1816.

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THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

letters writing us out of history (jugiter, ad nauseam etc)....... EDITOR

Did anyone else make the mistake of watching The Seven Ages of Britain (BBC1)? It started off, interestingly enough, with David Dimbleby rowing on a murky, predawn Thames. From then on it was downhill or, rather, downstream. When he started talking about great finds from the Thames I thought I knew what was coming (the Battersea shield), but I was wrong. The ‘treasure’ he was referring to was the head of a statue of a Roman emperor. The kind of street furniture knocked out by the thousand in Roman times. And this set the tone for the programme: it was about the Romans who had come to bring order to the “barbarian chaos” that was Britain. Then, about half way through, the setting suddenly switched to the Western Isles. This introduced Columba who, according to Dimblebore, “brought Christianity to Britain”. Really?! Columba came from Ireland. Christianity had been introduced to Ireland by the Briton (i.e. Welshman) Patrick. Therefore Britain was Christian before Ireland. (In fact, Columba came across to convert the Picts of northern Scotland.) He then talked of invasions from many quarters upon Britain following the collapse of Rome. True enough. But Dimblebore made no mention of the Irish or the Picts; he was interested only in the AngloSaxons. Cue Sutton Hoo and panegyrics to these noble people. He even - shades of Michael Wood had a go at speaking Anglo-Saxon. At this point I switched off. Here we have a programme about ‘Britain’ which is really the nine-

C a mbr i a THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

teenth century English imperialist interpretation of ‘savage’ British natives conquered and part-civilised by Rome, with Britain then morphing into Anglo-Saxon England. No centuries of conflict between the invaders and the native Welsh, no Welsh Christianity. In fact, the Welsh are written out of Dimblebigot’s narrative entirely! I suspect that, like many English people aware of the history of this island, he has a problem with the Welsh. To acknowledge us is to admit that this island was once ours. So we must be denied. Which explains why, when Question Time comes from Wales, it is stacked with both an English panel and an English audience. (Though it begs the question: why is Dimblebigot allowed to get away with it by the Welsh production company that owns QT?) Our Welsh ‘Left’ tells us to focus on and fight the BNP or UKIP, but people like Dimblebigot are far more dangerous. They are the BBC, they are the Establishment - they have far more influence than the BNP and UKIP. And they probably hold us in greater contempt than either of those parties. Trouble is, no one would dare call Dimblebigot the racist he is. But I will - and I suggest that we all start realising who our enemies are. The BNP and UKIP are an annoyance, but Dimbleby and his ilk have real power and influence. They don’t have to go knocking on the doors of sink estates in Essex and Lancashire to put their message across; they have the power to reach everyone’s living room and have their interpretation unquestioningly accepted. That is real power! Royston Jones, Abergynolwyn, Gwynedd

EDITOR

Last year BBC4 showed two programmes entitled How the Celts Saved Britain presented by Dan Snow, whose website stated that the programmes would “blow the lid on the traditional Anglo-centric view of history and reveal how the Irish saved Britain from cultural oblivion during the Dark Ages.” The first programme was concerned chiefly with St. Patrick and his Irish successors. Mr Snow did not mention that Patrick is traditionally thought to be Welsh, though Wales may have been larger than it is now. He said the Patrick’s parents were devout Christians, so where did they live? He went on to deal with St. Columba and his settlement at Iona. He says the Irish ‘peregrini’ came to Britain, and this is certainly true of Wales, but he disregards the Welsh evangelists, such as Samson, who established monasteries in Ireland. Mr Snow suggested that the Anglo-Saxons came to a land called Britain which had lost its religion. Does he really not know that Christianity had survived along the western seaboard, thanks to the Celtic saints, in Cornwall, Wales and southern Scotland as well as Britanny? BBC2 is now entertaining us with The Seven Ages of Britain presented by David Dimbleby. In the first programme he makes the outrageous statement “in the year 563 Christianity arrived in Britain.” This was the year St. Columba arrived in Iona. Dan Snow (St. Paul’s School and Balliol College, Oxford) and David Dimbleby (Charterhouse and Christ College, Oxford) both have a Welsh connection. Snow is the great-greatgrandson of David Lloyd George while Dimbleby has a Welsh wife.

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letters Surely, they should know better with all that education. They seem to know nothing of the Celtic period in the west of Britain, of Dyfrig, of Illtud, Cadog, David and many more evangelists. Where was Columba converted to Christianity, in which monastery? Professor John Davies has written “Irish monasticism was the child of Welsh monasticism”. To quote from his book The Celts, “the monastery of Llanilltud Fawr (Llantwit Major) can be considered the axis of early Celtic Christianity,” and he refers to the monastery there as the university of the saints of the early early Celtic church. Norman Davies in The Isles - History writes “in its day, Llanilltud was probably the largest and most influential monastery in the Isles.” I could go on. The Irish have won the publicity battle through their magnificent manuscripts and other artefacts, but that is no excuse for the lack of balance shown in these programmes, which in turn will spread more benightedness. When can we expect anything better? BBC Wales can do so much, but their writ extends only to Offa’s dyke.

Theatre Cardiff on 15th September 1980, and The Journey by John Metcalfe, starring a young, unknown soprano called Lesley Garrett, at Cardiff ’s Sherman Theatre, in June 1981. Both works were almost universally panned by the (international) press, in spite of the fact that WNO’s standing at the time had never, and has never since, been higher. It is difficult to be “patriotic” about an international art-form such as opera, and, before beating ourselves up because there has actually never been a world-class Welsh opera, one must ask how many new works from other countries appear likely to become standard repertoire? The answer, of course, is probably not more than two or three from the entire globe in the past 50 years. It’s a lot to ask! Norma Lord Caerfyrddin

nest’s legacy EDITOR

Vivian Kelly, Llanilltud Fawr

welsh opera EDITOR

I must have missed Adam Price’s claim, referred to in Sion Jobbins’ article in the October/November Cambria, which I have only just seen, that Welsh National Opera has never produced a Welsh opera. This is factually incorrect: Adam and Siôn - are simply too young to remember the world premiere of William Mathias’s long-awaited opera, The Servants, at the New

C a mbr i a THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

I was interested in David Petersen`s letter on Nest, because I grew up with stories of her told me by my grandfather, a stonemason, who was born in Haverfordwest. There was a tradition that the Owen family had some connection with her. Such family origins do occur, for example in Ireland, DNA analysis has shown that Niall of the Nine Hostages, the singular patrilineal ancestor of the Ui Neill clan, has probably three million male descendants world wide, including 2% of the men in New York. However, the O’Neills appear to have been particularly fecund, an O’Neill chieftain died in 1423 leaving eighteen sons. It is commonly accepted that men have a one in four

chance of being related to others of a similar surname, especially if the connection with an area is long standing, so my grandfather may have had a slight chance of being connected with George Owen of Henllys, but we would be one family of hundreds, if not thousands of others. George Owen claimed an obscure descent from Rhys ap Tewdwr, and thus we may have a possible Nest connection as part of an extended family. A good comparison is the Scottish clan. David Petersen asks why there is not more emphasis on Nest`s role as a princess. This is probably because the term is inappropriate for preNorman Wales, she was the daughter of Rhys ap Tewdwr of Deheubarth, but that did not make her a princess. Any way, the death of her father in 1093, and the subsequent occupation of Deheubarth by the Normans, put paid to any role as a princess. She became a hostage at the Norman court, concubine of Henry I and was married off as a political pawn to Gerald of Windsor, who had been castellan of Pembroke, but was in disfavour having been involved in a revolt, but was reinstated on his marriage to Nest, Edward Laws, in "The History of Little England beyond Wales" published in 1888, suggests Nest brought Carew as her dower. It is of interest that their eldest son William became Lord of Carew and it was held by his descendants. By Gerald she had another son David who became Bishop of St Davids, another son Maurice became involved in the Irish conquest, as did the sons of her daughter Angharad, by William de Barri of Manorbier: another daughter is said to have married into the Cogan family, providing two sons Milo and Philip who were active in Ireland. On Gerald`s death it is possible she married had a son by Hait, sheriff of Pembrokeshire. Her third marriage, to Stephen, the castellan of Cardigan, produced

John Fitzgerald Kennedy. By comparison, her influence in Wales is minimal, only her eldest son, William, remained in Pembrokeshire and founded the Carew family, but many of them went to Devon and Ireland. She had two sons by Owain ap Cadwgan, but little seems to be known of them. Nest, though a daughter of Rhys ap Tewdwr, became a Cambro-Norman and her children became Hiberno-

Norman, rather than Welsh, and for her descendants we must look to Ireland rather than Wales. John Owen Caerffili We are always delighted to receive letters of every opinion. It may prove necessary to edit letters for space and clarity. Letters should be exclusive to

cambria

magazine.

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Order online at www.walesyearbook.co.uk or phone 01970 636403

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Ralph fitz Stephen, who went to Ireland marrying a daughter of Miles de Cogan, keeping it in the family. Her reputation as the Helen of Wales, depends, not on her beauty, but on her abduction, rape?, by her cousin Owain ap Cadwgan in 1109. This was seen in the same light as Paris`s abduction of Helen of Troy, leading to civil war and the eventual death of Owain at the hands of a jealous husband. Before this event, she hardly ever features in recorded history. Her return to Gerald on Owain`s death in 1116, suggests by then she saw herself as more Norman than Welsh, she had been in the Norman court since 1093, when she was at most a young teenager, and as we have seen today the hostage can soon empathise with their captors. Nest lived most of her life a Cambro-Norman chatelaine, rather than a Welsh princess. During the middle ages, it was not uncommon for noble women to have four surviving children, the Pastons in Norfolk had five surviving children, and, in 1503 Elizabeth of York died aged 37, of a post natal infection, having given birth to seven children. So it is not unusual that Nest with three marriages and two affairs produced the number of children she did. She was described as "The Queen Bee of the Irish Progeny", which she was, since many of her sons and grandsons went to Ireland, forming families such as the Fitzgeralds and Barrys with all their clans and sub clans, providing not the O’Neill three million descendants but giving us Garret Fitzgerald, Kevin Barry and perhaps

POLITICS

Clive Betts

30 Years

t has to be admitted - even as the calling of a referendum on significant extra powers for the Assembly approaches - that all is not right with our glass-palace down Cardiff Bay. The architecturally-acclaimed structure at the end of Pierhead Street is indeed one of the keys to the regeneration of not just the old Cardiff Docks, but of the entire country. Now the Labour-Plaid coalition government is committed to holding a referendum before the next Assembly elections in May 2011, and it seems hard to find reasons to justify a delay as condemnation of the current jerryrigged, close-to-collapse constitution intensifies. But the ridiculous and near-incomprehensible situation with regard to powers of action is not all that is wrong with our Assembly. Some of you will remember the promises and hopes which brought the institution into being in those early, halcyon, days of Labour’s exceedingly-long run of governance. At that time, we were promised that our Assembly would be an acme of openness. It would be so outstandingly different from those closed or so-difficult-tounderstand procedures of the institution standing not far beyond the end of the line to Paddington. We were told that no more would we have to suffer a couple of English Tories telling us what to do - and that after they had misunderstood the demands from our 13 historic counties. Instead, 60 open-minded, democratically-elected local politicians who really knew Wales and its needs and were ever willing to listen, would take on the job. Instead of rarely-glimpsed denizens of Whitehall operating a mysterious agenda, the new regime would be fully open to the public in its ways of operation. But when we complain today about the lack of openness we now have to contend with, we are insultingly told to admire Lord Rogers’s construction and observe its acres of glass. Of course, we are open. You can see us at our work... But where is our own equivalent of the Lobby at Westminster, where the paths of MPs, ministers, and even the Prime Minister, supposedly cross the paths of the lowly elector? Prior to the Rogers glasshouse, we could indeed boast of the hallway-approach to the old debating chamber. It was a truly excellent location for journalists to waylay the lawmakers; and for lobbyists - an absolutely crucial part of any legislative process - to persuade politicians about their policy wares; and even opportunities for the public to join in. But now all we have is what some call the Dungeon which surrounds our modern, but apparently belowground, debating chamber - from which there were at one

C a mbr i a THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

Where is Cardiff’s equivalent of the Lobby at Westminster, where the paths of MPs, ministers, and even the Prime Minister, supposedly cross the paths of the lowly elector? time moves to bar even the Press (the public and the lobbyists are already strictly banned); a café alongside to which AMs can retreat and from which we are excluded (except on Fridays when AMs are hardly ever there); a public gallery faced with toughened glass (so unlike friendly Edinburgh) and with AMs’ speeches relayed through a time-delay system (again, unlike Edinburgh); and a pedestrian circulatory system in the Assembly seemingly designed to prevent contact between electors and elected. Far worse even has been the end of the old-style committee system. This used to involve ministers justifying and explaining their policies every fortnight, delivering us sheaves of papers outlining the ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ for each policy. All written in the minister’s name, but actually compiled by the people who really know, their civil servants. The civil servants we met were civil, and they served the public (i.e. us) answering non-political questions directly and in straightforward fashion. With several hours for each meeting, questions were dissected in detail. They provided superb information for the press and for the public they serve. But now the rules of the Assembly prefer set-piece - and useless - pre-set and pre-determined plenary minority party debates on highly political topics, which hardly ever reveal anything. They take hours of preparation for several days a week, but only minutes for the massed, whipped, and unthinking AMs of the government parties to demolish by vote at the end of each day’s session. Of course, the First Minister is questioned on policies for an hour each Tuesday. Just as Mr Brown is. The answers are of as little use, but then you don’t go to First Minister’s questions for real information. The same is true for oral and written answers from ministers. How much better to divert the time wasted on formulaic political policy-bashing to the old-style probing sessions of a minister in committee - for this, we are told, there is no longer sufficient time. When the current First Minister Carwyn Jones was Agriculture Minister he used to suffer a truly (and often unfair) hard time from Tory sheep farmer Peter Rogers, the North AM. But more typical were the gentler investiga-

tions in which health minister Dr Brian Gibbons was asked, and given the chance to explain, some of the multiple facets of one of the world’s largest industries, the NHS. Now ministers’ rule is absolute. Any ‘investigation’ of a topic may get half-an-hour’s debate in committee, and the dozen or so detailed papers submitted by pressure groups are not mentioned but merely ‘noted’ (i.e. ignored). Civil servants, once crammed up against the public, press and evidence-givers in committee, are now nearunapproachable. This is so unlike the supposedly inferior form of government carried on in county halls, but so like Westminster, which Cardiff seems so keen on aping. When it takes the step forward to greater powers, it should take a big step backwards in time in how it conducts itself. Despite these failings, Wales has gained much since Westminster ruled. Under the Tories, political power in Wales was controlled by one minister (John Hunt, the secretary of state), one minister-of-state (Sir Wyn Roberts) and one ‘pussy’ (the civil service term was Parliamentary Under Secretary - then Gwilym Jones, last heard of running a now-closed sub-post office on a Caerffili council estate). The whole apparatus was near-invisible, and tried to run a faraway country from an old building down the road from the Commons. Now - despite the failings I have outlined - nine ministers, together with the 60 AMs from which they are drawn, probe, debate and administer the present and future of Wales. The first attempt (in 1979) at establishing the sort of devolved governmental structure which is commonplace in most of the rest of the world failed as a result of the near-racist opposition of a number of Labour MPs, most prominent of all being Neil Kinnock. The second whispered through by a narrow margin. But the third (next autumn?) should give Wales the sort of powers which are seen as the very minimum in most other devolved institutions of the world. Why do I hazard this? Because the antis (based yet again around Lord Kinnock’s former Islwyn constituency) are being continually forced onto their back feet in rebuttal. When blogs to a Western Mail story say that Wales is run by “power-hungry Nationalists”, within minutes comes the reply “Since when have Carwyn Jones and Huw Lewis been power-hungry Nationalists bent on Welsh independence?” That was in response to recently-retired First Minister Rhodri Morgan telling a Commons committee that Westminster (which includes Downing Street) was willing to accept Scotland making its own laws, but baulked at the same idea for Wales. “This is the key cultural question. Scotland has always been accepted as, not a foreign country, but another country. The problem about Wales is that it is not seen as another country. It is seen as, if you like, the last colony in the Empire.” The last colony? Strong words indeed. And that from

the respected newly-retired First Minister. And what is your reply, Labour apologists in Torfaen and Islwyn? Of course, it wasn’t just Kinnock’s pals who rallied to try and save Welsh Labour MPs’ continued pay and expenses. The Tories also rallied in 1979 and again 20 years later. And this is where the greatest change has happened. In Scotland, the devolved Scottish Tory party is seen nowadays as near-dead by party faithful, while the Welsh party is only 3% behind Labour, according to a recent opinion poll, although no doubt Plaid would have their doubts. Why is this so? Well, Welsh Tory AMs seem more capable than the Scots MSPs. But the Welsh party has changed in a way the Scottish one hasn’t. The Scots party emphasises its Unionist credentials, while the Welsh one has ditched its Thatcherite Unionist views and rebranded as the Welsh Conservatives. How many Tory AMs would vote in plenary against calling a referendum, I asked a leading AM. “One,” he said, and gave a name. “No,” I replied. “That man has already been outed in a Cambria piece as a federalist.” Which brings us to South Central AM David Melding and his heavyweight volume Can Britain Survive Beyond 2020? published by the Institute of Welsh Affairs. Mr Melding is his party group’s director of policy. His support of federalism has the backing of his leader Nick Bourne. The Welsh Tory party is being rebuilt, in the same way as David Cameron is attempting its British equivalent. Mr Cameron has the problem of backsliders. So, surely, has Mr Bourne, from such as Peter Davies, the Newport councillor and father of Monmouth MP and former AM David. But the Tory Party is willing to follow leaders. Mr Bourne has said that he himself would be willing to join a Yes campaign, no doubt in a prominent position (although he couldn’t speak for the rest of his group!). The No position is slowly getting pretty untenable (except, perhaps, at the back of the public bar - but that’s where so much public noise comes from). One of the latest to state that the present Welsh constitutional “settlement” is totally untenable is Alan Trench, of Edinburgh University. He told the Western Mail, “Nowhere on the planet has a system as dysfunctional as the Welsh one.” The system was “deeply flawed”. A similar view is held by so many observers that one finds it hard to work out why the new First Minister seems to support the present system. Perhaps for purely tactical reasons and to keep in with many Welsh Labour MPs. Now that the system has been roundly criticised by Dr Trench, in addition to the far better known Rhodri Morgan and former Permanent Secretary Sir Jon Shortridge, perhaps Carwyn Jones will recognise it’s time to get off the fence. Then we can get on with moving devolution forward to the next stage

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OPINION

Stephen Thomas

St Athan: PRIVATISATION ON PARADE

hose who have voiced opposition to plans for a huge, privatised Defence Technical College at the St Athan military base in the Vale of Glamorgan have quoted many different historical sources for their views. Some have referred to the distinguished tradition of Christian saints who originated in the Vale. Others have evoked the spirit of Gwynfor Evans, the poetry of Waldo Williams, or have referred to the anti-war example of the fire at Penyberth bombing school, as inspirations for seeking to block this imminent new development. Yet despite such evocations of figures past, it is the highly contemporary nature of the St Athan proposal that is at the heart of campaigning against the scheme in Wales. And while some of the voices raised in opposition are those of pacifists, a mix of people and organisations of varied backgrounds and political persuasions has lined up against the plans. So, what precisely are those plans? They have been significantly altered and delayed in the three years since an initial announcement was made by the Ministry of Defence (MoD) in early 2007. In essence, though, St Athan is to be the sole complex for the technical training of all three UK armed services. The training will be provided by a private consortium under the name of Metrix, the successful bidder in a tender process for a Private Finance Initiative (PFI) scheme operated by the UK government. Metrix will provide a 30-year commitment to the MoD and will be paid £12 billion of public money to carry out the required military training - the largest PFI contract ever conceived in the UK.

Others have evoked the spirit of Gwynfor Evans, the poetry of Waldo Williams, or the example of the fire at Penyberth bombing school, as inspirations for seeking to block this imminent new development It is this thoroughly twenty-first century vision of a rationalised, multi-service and out-sourced training regimen which has brought together such differing critics. These sceptics fully accept the need for British army, navy and air force personnel to undergo professional training of the highest quality. But such objectors remain wary of what will happen when Metrix takes over such responsibilities, because Metrix is itself a partnership of convenience. It is a patchwork of corporate bodies, from major arms manufacturer Raytheon, to military research specialist Qinetiq; from facilities company Sodexo, to the establishment that pioneered educational second chances on a mass scale, the Open University. These are but four of the curious bedfellows united under the Metrix banner. Significant planning and preparatory work has already been conducted on the site, at not insignificant cost to taxpayers. But there remain uncertainties. The MoD and Metrix expect to sign their contract in November 2010, with a view to the Technical College opening its doors in 2013. Yet all three major UK political parties are committed to undertaking a Strategic Defence Review once the 2010 General Election is over. While military training must of necessity continue in some form in future, the Review will certainly scrutinise the value for money

‘A mix of people and organisations of varied backgrounds and political persuasions has lined up against the plans.’

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that this PFI scheme represents. The fact that a recent House of Lords report (amongst others) has queried the cost-saving claims of such PFI schemes, with their offbalance sheet accounting, could be a major consideration. Should the Metrix proposal go ahead, there are bound to be question marks about its eventual scale. Armed Forces Minister Bob Ainsworth has been forced to make significant cuts in the MoD’s budget in past months, as a result of the current major squeeze on the public purse. While those cuts will fall hardest on large capital military equipment costs, the maintenance of the UK’s armed forces at their current size is by no means certain. Any reduction in personnel will inevitably lead to reduced overall training needs, and uncertainty about Metrix’s business case. St Athan has housed the RAF and the Army since the 1930s, but will need additional land for the expansion plans to go ahead. A public inquiry into the compulsory purchase of land outside the existing military site took place in Barry in January 2010, and the Inspector’s report is now awaited. The Inquiry witnessed objectors citing various issues against the planning applications

submitted jointly by the Welsh Assembly Government (WAG) and the MoD. Despite the number of militaryrelated families in the St Athan area, there were many local objections to proposals for a new road, re-located firing ranges, a powerful new radar system, and largescale accommodation blocks on green field sites beyond the current boundary fence. Other objectors at the Inquiry concentrated on a bigger picture. They represented bodies such as Friends of the Earth, Cymdeithas y Cymod, the Wales Green Party, Campaign Against the Arms Trade, and Cynefin y Werin. Issues of sustainability and environmental considerations loomed large in their exchanges with WAG civil servants and senior military figures. A strong case was made by those officials that the planning process had fully complied with all European Union directives and domestic regulations. It is undoubtedly true that environmental issues have been exhaustively addressed: the great lengths gone to, for example, in ensuring a new habitat for the rare great crested newts found on the site is commendable. But this insistence on due diligence by governmental representatives referred only to a narrow, highly localised interpretation of obligations. There was no acknowledgement of the ultimate un-sustainability that training for warfare, of its very nature, embodies. Nor of the dichotomy between the linked proposal to develop part of the St Athan site as a commercial Aerospace Business Park - with a mixture of possible civil and military aviation users - and the low carbon targets which WAG policies are increasingly meant to reflect. Thus questions of national (Welsh and UK) or international impact and security received only superficial attention from the serried ranks of officials at the Inquiry. Yet these points go to the very heart of the mat‘Curious bedfellows united under the Metrix banner’

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ter for those objectors who see the St Athan proposal as an unacceptably large step in the further militarisation of Wales. For one thing, it will not merely be British army, navy and air force personnel trained there. Overseas trainees will also be based at St Athan – in the way that Saudi Arabia’s armed forces, for example, are already being ST ATHAN: The new revolutionary trained by British flashpoint with echoes of Penyberth? armed forces at other sites. There are verbal undertakings from the MoD that it will not authorise Metrix to train militaries from regimes whose human rights records conflict with Welsh or UK governmental norms. But that is scant comfort when the Chief Executive of Metrix is on record as saying: “Our aim is that … if you travelled anywhere in the world and talked about military training, people would say that St Athan was the only place to go. It will genuinely be on the world map. People will come from Australia, the Middle East and other parts of the world to train…The [College] will captivate the world...”; and when former Under-Secretary of State for Defence Derek Twigg stated in 2007 that Metrix will be able to generate third party income from spare capacity at St Athan. As such spare capacity is all the more likely now, given the economic downturn, there is yet more reason for concern. Not all objectors necessarily fear the spectre of a Welsh equivalent to the School of the Americas. This is a US institution, which over the past 60 years has trained soldiers from Latin American countries

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in counter-insurgency techniques, psychological warfare and interrogation tactics. Some of the most brutal transgressions of human rights in that hemisphere have been carried out by those trained at the School of the Americas. But it does seem legitimate at the very least to be concerned that commercial pressures on a newly-privatised system may lead to a different training ethos, no longer in the hands of people conducting a public service, where the bona fides of foreign regimes will not be scrutinised as rigorously as in the past. With such significant site expansion, security measures at St Athan are to be stepped up in time for the Technical College’s opening, with the creation of a cordon sanitaire around the base – a ‘maximum security area’ of 50 metres, encircling the site’s new perimeter. One has to wonder whether this will be adequate to deter interest from terrorists (whether home-grown, or from overseas) when there are thousands of trainees and trainers housed there at any one time. Finally, there is a bottom line that has by and large bought the silence of most political parties in Wales – the arrival of new jobs in the wake of St Athan’s expansion. The figures quoted have shifted wildly, but those who claim that 5,000 jobs will be created in the area are exaggerating. Many of the training jobs will be transferred from existing military sites around the UK. New jobs will be fewer, and largely limited to catering, cleaning and security – low in quality, and low-paid. Even if the speculative job creation claims of the neighbouring Aerospace Business Park are included (something that should not be taken for granted, given a decade of serial failures over the Red Dragon and DARA aerospace projects on this very site), there is little reason to believe that this will be a huge boost to the economy of south-east Wales. Remember that the massive scale of the PFI contract should be largely factored out of this financial equation: much of the billions of pounds there will go to service the contract, and as profit for Metrix, rather than being ploughed into the Welsh economy. Thus we have been let down by our Welsh political class. They have not asked important questions at key times about St Athan, and are in danger of allowing this behemoth to move into Wales without as much as a discussion on the floor of the Senedd, or a single Welsh MP willing to be the focus of serious debate about it at Westminster. The objectors, and sections of the Welsh populace at large, may do well to remember this pact of silence when the appropriate democratic opportunities arrive in the coming months. Stephen Thomas is Director of the Welsh Centre for International Affairs, based at the Temple of Peace in Cardiff, and has campaigned against the St Athan development.

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O B I T U A RY

er serchus gof

HYWEL TEIFI EDWARDS 1934-2010

MEIC STEPHENS

ywel Teifi Edwards was Professor of Welsh at undermined its legitimacy in some quarters. the University College of Swansea from 1989 He was particularly scathing about Hugh Owen until his retirement in 1995. He (1804-81), the influential civil servant had spent some thirty years at Swansea who worked long and hard to draw Wales prior to his appointment to a chair, durmore firmly into the orbit of the British ing which he won a reputation as the preState, especially as far as its language was eminent authority on the literature of concerned: like many members of the Wales in the nineteenth century, especially anglicised middle classes in his day, Owen that produced under the aegis of the kept Welsh low on his list of priorities National Eisteddfod which was revived and urged his countrymen, the majority and put on a more secure footing in the of whom were Welsh monoglots, to 1860s. His knowledge of the colourful adopt English as the sole language of personalities and often bitter controversies Progress, Empire and Commerce. animating the festival’s affairs was encyUnder the influence of Owen and his clopaedic and his enthusiasm for its role acolytes, the Eisteddfod persuaded poets in fostering the indigenous language and to yield their traditional pride of place to FRANCES JONES-DAVIES culture of Wales knew no bounds. musicians and singers, notably those who The fruits of his research first appeared performed for the Queen and won for in two substantial volumes, namely Yr Eisteddfod 1176Wales a reputation as ‘the Land of Song’. It also attracted 1976 (1976) in which he traced the origins of the instithe English-speaking gentry and a small entrepreneurial tution from the gathering class who insisted on introof poets and musicians held ducing a ‘Social Science at Cardigan under the Section’ which offered patronage of the Lord Rhys prizes for essays on social, in 1176, and Gwˆyl Gwalia commercial, industrial and (1980), a magisterial study scientific subjects, an innoof the Eisteddfod between vation soon abandoned, 1858 and 1868, when it however, for lack of interest was established as the paraon the part of a people mount forum for the hungry for poetry and national culture of Wales. music. Hywel Teifi was a great Hywel Teifi explored the admirer of the Eisteddfod psychology of this woeful as a truly popular instituinterlude in the history of tion which did much to Welsh culture in a memosave the Welsh language rable lecture entitled Baich PROFESSOR M. WYNN THOMAS from the oblivion into y Bardd at the National which Victorian values Eisteddfod held in Cardiff (speaking at Hywel Teifi’s funeral) threatened to consign it, in 1978, an occasion on but he was no blinkered which his laconic wit and zealot and could be acertrenchant views were bically critical of its foibles and shortcomings, among warmly appreciated by an audience of a thousand and which were nepotism and a false antiquarianism that more. There was something attractively iconoclastic in

Inspired by Owen Rhoscomyl’s Flamebearers of Welsh History as a child, he may best be described as ‘The Flamethrower of Welsh History’.

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his approach and people enjoyed the demotic language he habitually used to deflate the pompous and topple sacred cows from the Welsh mantelpiece. A more sober account of the contribution made by the Eisteddfod is to be found in his monograph in the Writers of Wales series (1990), one of his rare publications in English. The attraction of music in Victorian Wales was particularly potent. During the last decades of the nineteenth century the harpist and the male voice choir came into their own, huge crowds listening to the recitals in rapt awe and quasi-religious zeal comparable to the fervour later seen at international rugby matches. The choirs gave Wales a cultural identity when it most needed one: the 456strong strong South Wales Choral Union, for example, conducted by the blacksmith-cum-hotelier Griffith Rhys Jones (known by his bardic name, Caradog), sang to tremendous acclaim at the Crystal Palace in 1872, after which the Welsh became renowned for this mode of singing. Hywel Teifi made a special study of this phenomenon, which was social as much as it was musical, and in his short book Eisteddfod Ffair y Byd (1990) he wrote graphically about the impression made by Welsh choirs at the Chicago World Fair of 1893. He returned to this subject in Jiwbilî y Fam Wen Fawr, about how the Welsh celebrated Victoria’s Jubilee in 1887, which was the subject of his lecture delivered at the National Eisteddfod in 2002. On a wider canvas, Hywel Teifi traced the social fabric of Victorian and Edwardian Wales in his book Codi’r Hen Wlad yn ei Hôl (1989), the title of which - ‘To raise the old country to its feet’ - was the motto of the great patriot Owen M. Edwards in his Herculean efforts to improve the teaching of Welsh in the schools of Wales and provide reading material for the common people. It focuses on the failure of the Welsh intelligentsia, after the infamous Blue Book reports of 1847 which had impugned the morality of the Welsh people, to mount an effective resistance to the imperial TIRELESS CAMPAIGNER: FROM TOP - Dafydd Wigley MP, Hywel Teifi and Dafydd Elis-Thomas MP on a visit to Westminster (PLAID CYMRU ARCHIVE); 2006 - Addressing the National St David’s Day Parade in Cardiff with organisers David Petersen, Gareth Westacott and John H. Davies (GARETH AP SIÔN); 2008 Cymdeithas yr Iaith protest outside the Senedd with [LEFT] Catrin Dafydd and Adam Price MP (GARETH AP SIÔN); 2009 - Presenting Welsh-Spanish dictionaries and other books to campaigner Rhobert ap Steffan and cambria’s publisher Henry Jones-Davies to be sent to the two Welsh-Patagonians refused entry into Britian to attend Welsh language courses. (FRANCES JONES-DAVIES)

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TOP. HANDS ACROSS THE CELTIC SEA: [FROM LEFT]

Ieuan Wyn Jones MP, Dafydd ElisThomas MP, Hywel Teifi, Irish Taoiseach Charles Haughey, Dafydd Wigley MP, and Karl Davies (later Plaid’s Chief Executive). (PLAID CYMRU ARCHIVE)

LEFT. [FROM LEFT]

Gwynfor Evans, Dafydd Wigley, Hywel Teifi and Dafydd Elis-Thomas on the campaign trail. (PLAID CYMRU ARCHIVE)

mindset which had confined Welsh to the home and chapel and refused it a place in law, education and public life. The book also examines how a handful of writers, among them the polemicist Emrys ap Iwan and the novelist Daniel Owen, challenged the prevailing mood which revered all things English, and how Welsh literature, desperate to demonstrate the purity of the Welsh character to ‘onlooking nationalities’, reached a nadir from which it took a long time to recover. The most spirited chapters are those describing the raising of funds for the erection of a memorial to Llywelyn, the Last Prince of independent Wales, at Cilmeri near Builth

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THE CANDIDATE 1983: Hywel Teifi Edwards, Plaid Cymru Prospective Parliamentary Candidate for Caerfyrddin. (PLAID CYMRU ARCHIVE)

where he was killed by Anglo-Norman forces in 1282, and an hilarious account of the National Pageant staged by members of the romantically inclined gentry and industrialists of Cardiff in 1909. The same regard for culture as the product of political and social attitudes informs Arwr Glew Erwau’r Glo (1994), a study of the miner in Welsh literature between 1850 and 1950. Although born in the village of Llanddewi Aber-arth in rural Cardiganshire (from which county, Sir Aberteifi, he was given his middle name), Hywel Teifi had his family roots in the coal valleys of Glamorgan. He now set about demolishing the image of the Welsh collier as, at best, a virtuous but pathetic victim and, at worst, a dangerous revolutionary. At the heart of the book is a discussion of the outrage caused by Kitchener Davies’s play Cwm Glo (1935), which depicts the baneful effects of unemployment on the morals of a mining family during the Depression, the most shocking of which has the daughter walking the streets of Cardiff as a prostitute.

Hywel Teifi’s keen interest in the theatre, especially amateur drama, is to be seen in Codi’r Llen (1998), an illustrated account of the myriad drama companies that flourished in all parts of Wales in the inter-war years. It should come as no surprise that Hywel Teifi Edwards was not content to be confined to the groves of Academe. He was an active member of Plaid Cymru from his undergraduate days at the University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, and stood twice as the party’s candidate. At the General Election of 1983 he contested Llanelli and, four years later, Carmarthen, where he made a large dent in the Labour vote. A left-winger, he had nothing but contempt for the Labour Party in Wales, which survived the creation of the National Assembly in 1999. An able public speaker, he often put me in mind of Aneurin Bevan in his mastery of the pregnant pause, the dramatic gesture and the swift delivery of the coup de grace that could be as devastating as it was wittily phrased, while his ebullient, not to say bullish manner, was always impressive. The same qualities brought him many invitations to take part in radio and television programmes, and he did so with a gusto, eloquence and erudition that were his trademarks. His stentorian voice and mischievous manner enlivened many a committee, public meeting and television programme. He leaves a wife and two children, one of whom is the well-known broadcaster and BBC news-reader Huw Edwards. It gave him intense satisfaction to see his son, a Welsh-speaker, presenting a BBC Wales television series, The Story of Welsh, in the Spring of 2003. A Festschrift in which some of his many admirers paid tribute to his scholarship and jovial personality was published as Cawr i’w Genedl in 2008. Hywel Teifi Edwards, patriot and literary historian: born Llanddewi Aberarth, Ceredigion, 15 October 1934; Professor of Welsh, University College, Swansea, 1989-1995 (and Emeritus); married Aerona Protheroe (one son and one daughter); died Llanelli, Sir Gaerfyrddin, 4 January 2010. A VERSION OF THIS OBITUARY FIRST APPEARED IN THE INDEPENDENT.

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U P C O U N T RY

‘The Welsh Desert’ KEITH FAICHNEY

iles away from the hordes who tramp the shoulders and ridges of North Wales and a similar distance from the wonderful beaches in the south of the Cymru lies an area of rare tranquillity. Comfortably situated between Tregaron to the west and south of the Pumlumon mountains, is a part of Wales is little known, there are some who would say “and so much the better;” for the remoteness and mournful desolation creates an atmosphere difficult to find these days. Few of the mountains top better than 2000 ft and even they lack the craggy eminences of Snowdonia. What they do possess however is the haunting beauty remoteness can bring, enhanced: by the almost complete absence of traffic. Tregaron is the smallest town in

The Abergwesyn Pass

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Ceredigion. Twm Siôn Catti, the Welsh aristocratic version of Robin Hood, was born there. George Borrow stayed at the Talbot Arms hotel during his epic walk around Wales in 1854, and a statue of Henry Richard, an apostle of the League of Nations stands in the square. For hundreds of years until the end of the eighteenth century Tregaron was an important centre for drovers who converged on the town with their animals before commencing the long journey to the English markets. Great herds of cattle were driven through the Cwm Berwyn pass to Abergwesyn and on to Llanwrtyd Wells where they would meet other herds on their way to London’s Smithfield market. The noise of this cattle movement would be heard for miles along the largely un-made roads. Cattle were shod with iron cues to protect their hooves: these were twin pieces of iron, similar to a horse shoe, but placed separately on each side of the cloven hoof of the beast. Flocks of sheep and geese would sometimes form part of this cavalcade and the webbed feet of these large birds would be painted with pitch and covered with grit or

The noise and dust; the shouting of men, some mounted on ponies, and the barking of dogs would herald their coming

oyster shell to provide protection, whilst pigs were occasionally fitted with leather bootees. The noise and dust; the shouting of men, some mounted on ponies, and the barking of dogs would herald their coming, and all climbing out of Tregaron through Cwm Berwyn into the great Welsh desert. Progress of course would have been slow. The road from Tregaron to Abergwesyn has altered little since those days. Better surfaced, but still narrow and twisting, it follows the Afon Berwyn for several miles after which the road breaks clear of the forest and KEITH FAICHNEY descends to a junction where you will find a telephone kiosk; and a post box, and you wonder who uses these aids to communication situated, as they are, miles away from any sort of habitation. Turn right by the post box and continue through this desolation for several miles, fording the Afon Camdwr here and there with little to see that would endorse past prosperity

Pray you who come to my grave to see. Prepare yourselves to follow me, My bed shall be in this cold clay, Until the resurrection day.

Now as then...

except the occasional derelict farmhouse. The road wanders alongside more forestry before arriving at a rise with a slight turning to our left. Beneath the road, and on the right hand side, the river runs past a long single story building with a whitewashed gable; snuggled down near the river, and sheltered by a copse of silver birch and beech trees. This lonely, sequestered building is "Soar-y-Mynydd," said to be the most remotely situated church in the British Isles. Services were first held at nearby Rhiwalog Farm in 1740, and continued at Soar-yMynydd chapel after it was built in 1822. The KEITH FAICHNEY chapel was erected by the reverend Ebenezer Richards on land donated by the owner of nearby Nant-Llwyd Farm who provided the land on lease for a thousand years, at a rent of half a crown a year. Soar-y-Mynydd is a beautiful chapel and in spite of itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s remote location services are still held there on the last Sunday of August when the church is usually filled to overflowing.

Make your way down to the chapel, cross the wooden foot bridge, stand for a few moments in the graveyard, and let the remoteness and silence enwrap you. The only sounds that of the wind stirring the birches, perhaps the odd croak of a raven, or the mewing of a solitary buzzard, orchestrated by the murmur of the Afon Camdwr as it hurries to the huge reservoir of Llyn Brianne a few miles further down the valley. There are few graves here. The earliest is that of Margaret Jones, dated 16 May 1856. Her headstone reads:

Inside the church are rows of gated pews and behind the large pulpit a most interesting and beautiful mural. A visitorsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; book lies open, and KEITH FAICHNEY beside it a bilingual notice warns of the many perils that even entering the church may engender. Health and Safety legislation, even in this remote spot, encroaches upon what life and character remains! In 1944 there were still forty members of this chapel; six years on only ten. The chapel has a stable, a small living area, and an attached school room; it is always open. The farmer, whom I met on my last visit, told me he had been educated there at a time when he was one of only four pupils. The school mistress would walk the ten or more miles to the chapel each Sunday and lived in the Capel Soar y Mynydd

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KEITH FAICHNEY

GOD IS LOVE:

Soar y Mynydd

dormitory until the following Friday when, after school had closed, she would trudge the lonely miles home to spend the weekend with her family. Visiting preachers would stable their horses there, and services were held every Sunday for the community of farmers who dragged a living from a valley which at one time held up to thirty farms. He told me that during the incredibly severe winter of 1947 he had, on several occasions, walked the twelve miles or so to Tregaron to obtain food for his family. For weeks the roads were impassable, and the journey had taken many hours through deep drifts of hard, frozen snow. The farmer of Nant-Llwyd rode a small pony, as did his brother, and related all this whilst a younger element raced around on four-wheeled motorcycles driving a huge flock of sheep before them. I counted some sixteen dogs milling around the scene, barking, and occasionally snapping at each other.

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constructed to supply Liverpool. All in their turn created great controversy. In most cases these schemes were pushed forward without any involvement of the Welsh people and, in the case of the Vyrnwy reservoir: not a single Welsh planning officer, engineer, or consultant of any sort was involved in Years ago, there were other industries besides agriculture within the Welsh Desert. Probably the most important of these was woollen industry, followed by lead mining, but all that has now gone, and only rusting sheds and the spoil tips remain. The main activity today is, of course, agriculture, but the collection and storage of water plays a large part in the scene of things and just a few miles to the north of Soar-y-Mynydd lie the massive reservoirs of Claerwen, and Graig Goch. Acts of Parliament allowed compulsory purchase orders for the necessary land and there was great resentment at the time during the dams’ construction. Entire valleys were flooded as the waters rose to cover farms, schools and churches. Landowners received compensation but householders and farmers were not and were forced to leave their homes and farms to build lives elsewhere. The water went to Birmingham and does to this day. Another reservoir, Llyn Vyrnwy, was

the project. One of the last reservoirs to be constructed in Wales was the Celyn project to the north of Bala. The building of this dam was to flood the Tryweryn valley and submerge the hamlet of Capel Celyn - again to provide water for Liverpool. The brochure describing the building of this facility did not even mention that Capel Celyn was in Wales. The water engineer was from Liverpool: the consulting engineers were from London, the landscape consultant was a Frederic Gibbard O.B.E., the contractors were from Wolverhampton and the ‘Fishery Adviser’ was from Aberdeen. The people of Wales were incensed by the whole scheme but remained powerless to oppose it, and fifty years later the slogan “Cofiwch Dryweryn” - Remember Tryweryn - can still be seen on the rocks around the dam. It may seem ironic to many that much of the water collected by the dam never finds its way to Liverpool.

The Shrine of Saint David: restoring a sacred focus

Most English cathedrals now demand an entrance fee, which might be regarded as a form of non-violent mugging. At least we haven’t stooped that low in Wales yet.

PATRICK THOMAS

have visited the Cathedral of Holy Etchmiadzin, the sacred centre of Armenian Christianity, three times. On the first occasion I was overawed by the atmosphere of the building, the splendour of the liturgy and the haunting quality of Armenian religious music. At the heart of the cathedral is the Altar of Descent where, according to the historian Agathangelos, Christ himself appeared to Saint Gregory the Illuminator, the Apostle of Armenia. Hence the name of the Cathedral: Etchmiadzin means ‘Where the Only-Begotten Descended’. In front of the altar are a Cross and a Gospel Book. I knelt down and kissed them, following the example of the crowds of Armenian pilgrims. My second visit was rather less numinous. I had been busy examining the breath-taking collection of khatchkars (cross-stones) in the Cathedral gardens, when I noted an excited crowd. They were heading towards the path that leads from the Residence of the Catholicos (the head of the Armenian Apostolic Church) to the Cathedral. I had seen on the local television news the previous night that a group of Iranian Shi’ite Islamic scholars were visiting Armenia as part of an attempt to cement the relationship between the two countries. They were now visiting Etchmiadzin and the Catholicos had invited them to observe the Armenian Liturgy in the Cathedral as his guests. He was now escorting them there. The combination of bearded Islamic scholars with their white turbans and flowing robes and Armenian vardapets (celibate doctors of theology) with their Mount Ararat-shaped cowls and impressive copes was so improbable that I pushed my way through the throng of spectators to get a photograph of them. I succeeded to get one that included a smiling Catholicos Karekin himself. Unfortunately by doing so I must have attracted the attention of a couple of local pickpockets, who clearly

recognised a dim and distracted foreigner when they saw one. As I followed the procession into the Cathedral a stocky Armenian suddenly blocked my way, while his companion niftily lifted my wallet. After which I found it very difficult to focus on the service. One shouldn’t be too hard on the Armenians. Crowds (and cathedrals) attract thieves in every country. A friend of mine had his best umbrella purloined in Llandaff Cathedral (he wrote to the then Bishop to complain), while the former Dean of St Davids warned me never to leave anything around in our Cathedral as it was sure to disappear. I’m told it’s even worse in England, where another acquaintance was mugged at knife-point during a mid-week Communion service in a highly respectable church. Most English cathedrals now demand an entrance fee, which might be regarded as a form of nonviolent mugging. At least we haven’t stooped that low in Wales yet. Everything was made up for by my third visit to Etchmiadzin Cathedral. I was treated as an honoured guest. It helped that I was in the company of Baroness Caroline Cox, who is regarded by Armenians as a national heroine and living saint (it is said that the Armenian Patriarch of Jerusalem has put in a bid for her bones after her death, to be displayed as relics in his Cathedral - fortunately she’s in robust health at the moment). I was given a chair in a place of honour next to Catholicos Karekin’s splendid mother-of-pearl encrusted throne. The service, though very long by our standards, was like heaven come down to earth. The only drawback was the bewildered Church of England clergyman sitting on the other side of me, who kept on whispering, “What are they doing now? What are they doing now?” After an hour or so I got tired of giving

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explanations and hissed (with shameful lack of Christian charity) “I’m sorry, I haven’t the faintest idea.” My pilgrimages to Holy Etchmiadzin brought home to me the importance of having a particular focus for prayer and devotion in a holy place, particularly a cathedral dedicated to a country’s patron saint. In Etchmiadzin that function was clearly fulfilled by the Altar of Descent, with its links to Saint Gregory the Enlightener and Christ. Was there something or somewhere in St David’s Cathedral that could carry out the same function? The answer would soon come from a project initiated by the new Dean, the Very Reverend Jonathan Lean. Visitors to St David’s Cathedral sooner or later find themselves in the Holy Trinity Chapel behind the High Altar. There they discover a mysterious wooden casket, protected by a metal grille. The contents of this reliquary have been the subject of considerable disagreement over the years. That Dewi Sant was buried at St Davids seems beyond question. That the community which he founded was later the subject of devastating Viking raids in the second half of the eleventh century is well documented. Gerallt Gymro (Giraldus Cambrensis), that would-be successor of Saint David whose ambitions were repeatedly thwarted, refers to a period when St Davids was left desolate for seven years and became so overgrown that it took a determinedly devout cleric seven days to cut his way through the thorns and brambles to reach the patron saint’s tomb. Around the year 1090 the reliquary of Saint David was stolen and the gold and silver removed from it, though the chronicler who records the fact makes no mention of what became of the saint’s relics. In a detailed essay examining their history, the ecclesiastical historian F.G. Cowley argues strongly that Saint David’s

bodily remains had disappeared by the beginning of the twelfth century. Nevertheless it was in that century that Bishop Bernard managed to persuade Pope Calixtus that two visits to St Davids would secure the same blessings for pilgrims as one to Rome. By the end of the twelfth century the Cathedral also boasted another relic: the ‘Imperfect Gospel’. This was a copy of Saint John’s Gospel which Saint David had been working on when he was called to prayer. He abandoned the column that he had been writing, and when he returned discovered that it had been completed in golden letters by an angel. Then, as often seems to have happened with relics, someone had a vision. John de Gamages was a thirteenth century Prior of Ewenni in Llandaf Diocese, and seems to have been a rather down-to-earth monk with a gift for administration. Nevertheless, Christ appeared to him and pointed out where he could find Saint David’s body. It was duly disinterred and removed to St Davids, where a shrine was built for it in 1275. Cowley suggests that there may have been financial and church political motives behind the unlikely visionary’s fortunate windfall. Such considerations did not, however, influence the first important visitor to the new shrine. Edward I turned up in 1284, two years after the death of Llywelyn Ein Llyw Olaf. The English king had already purloined part of the True Cross (Y Groes Nawdd) from Gwynedd, now he sought an important relic from West Wales. He set off back to London taking the head of Saint David and other assorted bones with him. St Davids Cathedral had to make do with what the monarch left behind. In the fourteenth and fifteenth century these remaining bits of bone were often taken around the diocese on fundraising tours. The Reformation put an end to such entrepreneurial activities. In 1538 the new ultra-Protestant Bishop of St Davids, William Barlow, got his hands on Illustration from THE HISTORY AND ANTIQUITIES OF ST DAVID’S by Jones & Freeman, 1856 the relics, which the Cathedral clergy had rashly exposed on Saint David’s Day. He lists them as ‘two rotten skulls’ (apparently those of Saint Caradog and Saint Justinian, as Edward I had already stolen that of David himself ) and two arm bones. There was also ‘a worme eaten booke covered with sylver plate’, which was presumably the ‘Imperfect Gospel’. No one knows what became of these. They may have been burnt or buried or sent to London to be destroyed there. However, given that there were major relics of three saints (David, Caradog and Justinian) preserved in St Davids Cathedral, Bishop Barlow’s haul seems very meagre indeed. One can’t help PUBLISHER’S COLLECTION

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suspecting that the clergy who so boldly upset their prelate by displaying the relics, also kept back some smaller items in a safe place. And that brings us to the wooden casket in the Holy Trinity Chapel. In 1866, while the Cathedral was being restored and repaired, a niche was discovered behind the High Altar. In the niche were some bones which had been set in mortar. They were put in a wooden chest and buried in front of the niche (sadly, the often-told story that the then Dean kept them for years in a cardboard box under his bed turns out to be a myth). However by 1919 the Church in Wales was caught up in the trauma of Disestablishment. The finances of the church in general and cathedrals in particular were under threat as ancient endowments were taken away and divided between the University of Wales and the Welsh county councils. William Williams, the new Dean of St Davids, decided to boost morale by unearthing the bones, declaring them to be the lost relics, and putting them in the wooden casket in their present position. In 1996 Dean J. Wyn Evans, an archaeologist and distinguished church historian who is the world authority on St Davids Cathedral, succumbed to the desire for scientific proof and had some of the bone fragments from the casket carbon-dated. The conclusion was reached that they dated from between 1000 and 1200. It was suggested that they might possibly include relics of Saint Caradog, but Saint David himself was ruled out. Not everyone was convinced by this. We live in a post-modern age where we have to admit that even science gets it wrong sometimes. It certainly still seems possible that some relics may have been hidden away in their very special niche in one of the most sacred spots in the Cathedral to save them from Bishop Barlow and Thomas Cromwell. In a remote valley in Montgomeryshire, the shrine of Melangell, the gentle woman saint who rescued a hare from Prince Brochwel Ysgithrog and his huntsmen, has been lovingly restored in recent years and now attracts an increasing number of pilgrims. Over the border in Hereford Cathedral the shrine of Saint Thomas Cantilupe has also regained its medieval splendour. In St Davids Cathedral the shrine of our patron saint is a grey wall with three arches above some empty niches. A few carved heads, randomly gathered from elsewhere, have been stuck on to it by a fairly recent restorer in a desperate attempt to liven it up a bit. Pilgrims to the cathedral of our national saint are disappointed by his shrine, if they notice it at all. It is therefore extremely heartening that the latest Dean of St Davids, the Very Reverend Jonathan Lean, has decided that to restore the Shrine of Saint David.

Surviving descriptions indicate that the arches once contained pictures of three saints. Two were Saint David and Saint Patrick, the third was possibly Saint Denys of France, though more probably Saint Andrew, to whom the Cathedral is also dedicated. Icons of the three saints are being commissioned, as well as two additional pictures of Saint Non and Saint Justinian (or Stinan) to go on the back of the shrine. The wooden canopy that was originally above the three portraits will be restored. Two of the empty niches below the icons will contain the relics at present in the wooden casket. The third will contain an illuminated Gospel of Saint John to replace the ‘Imperfect Gospel’ destroyed by Barlow. The result will be a focus of prayer, devotion and pilgrimage worthy of Dewi Sant and Tyddewi. For further information about the restoration of the shrine please contact the Dean of St Davids: dean@stdavidscathedral.org.uk The author is greatly indebted to F.G. Cowley’s ‘The relics of St David: the historical evidence’, in ST DAVID OF WALES: CULT, CHURCH AND NATION, edited by J. Wyn Evans and Jonathan M. Wooding (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2007) for much of the background information for this article.

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HEROINES

Charlotte Guest A JOURNEY OF PASSIONATE DISCOVERY GWENLLIAN MEREDITH

‘T

he Welsh that I fell in with that day were delightful and all cordiality and enthusiasm…When he [Merthyr] alluded to my love of Wales he burst into tears…And oh, how I have loved it with its dear warmheartedness. All Saxon as I am, my own countrymen chill my shyness into pride. But the dear Welsh, with their ready smile and never failing welcome, make me feel amongst them as another being, exalted myself, yet not equal to them, in courtesy and love…’ These are some of the warmest sentiments in Charlotte’s personal journal during the period of her residence in Wales. She was not Welsh, but she warmly accepted the embrace of Wales, its people and language without hesitation. Who was this woman to whom translation of the Mabinogion, is given credit? For there is some speculation that she could not have accomplished this feat on her own: although she did, upon first moving to Wales, learn Welsh by taking lessons from the parish vicar and manuscripts show an abundance of notes and annotations regarding the history, culture, and other aspects of the tales in her hand, however, the argument against her sole translation is that she could not possibly have become proficient enough in Welsh to manage the entire translation herself. Some argue that the enormous wealth to which she had access during her first marriage, gave her the financial freedom to pay for translation assistance. Daughter of an earl and wife of one of the most successful industrialists of the nineteenth century whose foundry at Merthyr Tydfil provided for thousands of Welsh families; Charlotte’s attitude often appears condescending and the tone of her journal sometimes jars. However, her untiring energy for the people of Merthyr Tydfil, the schools she founded and endowed, in addition to bringing ten children into the world, and supporting her husband’s political ambitions, cannot be denied. 11 July 1846 – ‘It is said such a night was never seen

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‘...the dear Welsh, with their ready smile and never failing welcome, make me feel amongst them as another being, exalted myself, yet not equal to them, in courtesy and love…’

here [Dowlais] before. It was the largest assemblage ever known…But the enthusiasm of the people was the loudest and most gratifying part of all. May their bright hopes not be disappointed’. Charlotte Guest, nee Bertie, born 19 May 1812, personified a woman who spent her life searching. A romantic, educated intellect[ual], a woman driven to learn, accomplish, acquire, and endow, Charlotte contradicted the stereotypical idea of a Victorian woman. Yet often during her life she attempted to ‘fit in’ with the standards expected of nineteenth century women. Passion drove her life, first and last to achieve personal love. An early bereavement when her father, the ninth Earl of Lindsey, a General and Member of Parliament for Stamford, died, left an emotional void in her life; soon after his death her mother married a first cousin, the Reverend Peter William Pegus, a man of apparently violent temper, to whom the young Charlotte took an instant dislike. Subjected to the unhappiness of living with this step-father, Charlotte was denied the comfort of a loving home. She began keeping a journal from the age of ten, her Welsh entries are full of life in the first half of the nineteenth century: detailing people, events, politics, and family with keen perception. Hundreds of pages, reveal an untiring woman of vigour, finding some level of fulfilment through intellectual achievements, hard work; a

woman determined to accomplish; yet very much aware of her social status as the daughter of an earl, and wife of a wealthy industrialist/ politician. There is also a sense of loneliness, and perhaps it is in part due to this that she gave so much of herself up to learning Welsh, translating the Mabinogion into English, and becoming an intrinsic part of Merthyr Tydfil and her husband’s foundry at Dowlais: ‘May we indeed be enabled to do them good, and under a reviving trade have it in our power to minister to their necessities, not only bodily but mental. May we by our care and unceasing attention to their improvement in every respect, in some measure justify the warmth their reception has evinced towards us. It is a heavy responsibility. May God direct us through it’. In 1833 Charlotte married a widower twenty-seven years her senior. To her, industrialist Josiah John Guest was a much better match than the sixty-seven year old that her family thought would do for her and whom she promptly dismissed as unacceptable. But marriage to John Guest was not Charlotte’s first attempt at romance. Before her London season in 1832, she fancied herself in love with the local squire’s son, a relationship immediately quashed by her mother as beneath Charlotte’s dignity. After that aborted love affair, she turned her attentions to to her younger half-sisters tutor. If the squire’s son wasn’t her equal, then a mere tutor certainly could not come up to scratch for an earl’s daughter. Charlotte flirted with others, most prominently Benjamin Disraeli, but these encounters came to nothing, in the end she A treasure for the nation

chose her industrialist. Marriage to John Guest or Merthyr as she referred to him in her journals presented immediate social difficulties. His enormous wealth as the owner of the largest foundry in the world, the Dowlais Iron Works in Merthyr Tydfil, did not reconcile polite society to the couple for many years. He ‘smelled’ of the shop. Regardless of his wealth; it took much work and time to attain social acceptance by London’s elite. But societal isolation aside, her marriage to Sir John appeared to be happy. Prosperous it proved in many ways; his iron works remained the world’s largest and Charlotte was certainly not idle, she gave birth to ten children in thirteen years which instilled the household with a boisterousness and vitality designed to keep many parents more than busy. While her journal entries describe children’s illnesses, doctors’ visits, involvement in social activities, the Great Exhibition, her husband’s foundry and its thousands of workers for whom Sir John felt a very real responsibility, they often lack a personal warmth. They also describe the uncertain political times of the 1832 Reform Bill and the

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Lady Charlotte Guest in later life

Chartist revolts, but very few anecdotes of how she felt about her life. She remarks on elections and electioneering for Sir John since he served Merthyr Tydfil as a Whig member of Parliament from 1832 until his death twenty years later. She encouraged her husband’s political aspirations, worked alongside him when he stood for Parliament, learned a great deal about the foundry, ironworks and the business end of trade. Charlotte even wrote pamphlets on the Iron industry, in addition to these tasks, she shared many of the worries and burdens of running the Foundry. Undaunted, Charlotte devoted herself fully to all these activities. ‘I had a long visit from Mr. Giffard the Curate of our Chapel. We talked about the poor and the feeling of the lower classes to the rich, and what he said quite confirmed my views of the unsound state of society and the necessity of educating, or humanising, the lower grade. But I know one cannot make people good and religious by act of Parliament. The first step is to make them comfortable and happy, and for this purpose all the sanitary and social reforms are most important’. She completed the translation of the Mabinogion by 1846, an eight-year task with its publication. Due to her efforts within a short time the tales were also translated into French and German, a stunning contribution to the world of literature. Breathtaking in scope of activity, Charlotte engaged in external activities rather tangle with emotions. Her daughter Enid describes the love Charlotte’s children received as coming from the governess rather than their mother and that her mother was ‘an absentee mother, someone rather to fear than love’. Although daily life hummed along all may not have been bliss in the Guest home, for during the mid years of her marriage to Sir John, he accused his wife of infidelity with her cousin Sir Austen Henry Layard, most

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famously known as the discoverer of ancient Nineveh. Whether true or not, it did put a coldness on the marriage for a short spell, but relations between Layard and the Guests did not suffer too badly for when Sir John bought Canford House in Dorset in 1846, he filled much of it with artefacts brought from Nineveh. Interestingly, in 1869, sixteen years after Sir John’s death, Charlotte’s daughter Enid, then twenty-five, accepted an offer of marriage from Layard, aged fifty-one. In 1853 Sir John died, leaving Charlotte with foundry responsibilities as well as overseeing the welfare of her family. In the midst of this, Charles Schreiber, a penniless young man of 27 became tutor to her son Ivor. By 1855, a mere two years after John’s death, Charlotte found the passion for which she searched her entire life. Fourteen years her junior, the immediate bonding between them was apparent and by her own admission she became like a schoolgirl. Finding time for secret liaisons with Schreiber at her son’s school, she neglected for the first time foundry responsibilities, paying more visits to Ivor’s school than ever. She blushed, wrote intimate notes to Schreiber on ‘scented paper’, counted the moments until their next meeting, and completely flouted convention by the affair. They married in 1855. Charlotte’s second marriage was marred by only three problems: money, of which they never seemed to have enough (she was used an extremely affluent lifestyle); political ideology, Charles Schreiber eventually took a seat in Parliament as a Tory, not a Whig; and lastly, some members of society shunned them because of their unequal social status. Yet, the two ignored critics, living happily together for many years until his death in 1885. Charlotte suffered three miscarriages and the two never had children of their own, but this disappointment drew them closer together, a closeness they brought to their other passions. They travelled the world together and Charlotte became a renowned expert and collector of ceramics, leaving her collection (the Schreiber Collection) to the Victoria and Albert museum. She became an expert on fans, writing a book on English fans, published in 1888. It was this effort that won her the Freedom of their Company by the London FanMakers. She and Baroness Coutts were the only two Victorian ‘Freewomen’ of the nineteenth century. Perhaps not a terribly sympathetic woman, Charlotte was nevertheless formidable. Her journals left an invaluable insight into Victorian England while her most enduring and endearing legacy is something she conceived in ambition and completed in love: the Mabinogion. Her own words the touchstone of this effort, ‘my love of Wales… oh, how I have loved it with its dear warmheartedness’ should endure in Welsh memory.

NIGEL OWENS

Gwendraeth’s finest ALUN WYN BEVAN

n all-rounder is regarded as someone who is able to excel in more than one discipline or genre. In Wales we have bred several sportsmen and women who can claim such a title. Maurice Turnbull and Wilfred Wooller are two names who immediately spring to mind; the former played scrum half for Wales in the team’s first ever victory at Twickenham in 1933, and also enjoyed a successful career as a county and test cricketer. Wilfred Wooller was the man-of-the-match in Wales’s historic win over Jack Manchester’s All Blacks in 1935, and went on to captain Glamorgan when they won the County Championship for the first time in 1948. He also played football for Cardiff City and was a skilful hockey player. Another name can now be added to this illustrious list namely Nigel Owens, the international rugby referee from Mynyddcerrig in the Gwendraeth Valley. How, you may ask does a young man from the depths of rural Carmarthenshire end up refereeing matches on the hallowed turfs at Twickenham, Stade de France and Eden

How does a young man from the depths of rural Carmarthenshire end up refereeing matches on the hallowed turfs at Twickenham, Stade de France and Eden Park?

Park? As if this was not enough, he has also carved out a successful career as a television personality and entertainer. The answer lies in Nigel’s book Half Time : The Autobiography published by Y Lolfa at £14.95. It’s an enjoyable read, co-written with Lyn Davies, an experienced broadcaster from the Swansea Valley. Nigel chronicles his life thus far and attributes his success to the warm, loving upbringing he was given as a child, the close relationships forged within the community, the positive attitude of his parents and his own determination to listen to advice and learn from his errors. All the above are contributory factors which have taken him to the very top in the highly competitive world of rugby union refereeing. But to succeed in such a cauldron of high octane “a quiet word here, an icy look there means that everyone knows what to expect when Gwendraeth’s finest is in charge”

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testosterone, one also needs a sense of humour which has on many occasions served to defuse an already inflammatory situation. Several instances are quoted in the tome : “Perhaps I pushed my luck a little in a Blues v Dragons match. There hadn’t been any problems at all in the scrum Rowland Phillips, Nigel Owens, for sixty minutes, Jonathan Davies and Eleri Siôn then both sides present S4C’s hit show BWRW’R BAR brought on front row replacements Hugh Gustafson for the Dragons and John Yapp for the Blues. The next three scrums collapsed on their side, so I called them both out and said, ‘I can see now why you two aren’t starting the match!’ The other players thought that this was quite amusing but the two props didn’t see the funny side. Hugh, who is a Welsh speaker and played a few seasons for Pontyberem Youth came to have a chat with me after the game and said, ‘Nige, that was a bit harsh. People back home will now think I can’t scrummage’. I said, ‘Hugh bach, if you thought I was

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going to let them think I can’t referee you’ve got another thing coming!’” There is no doubt that Nigel Owens is one of the game’s most highly respected referees. His low key attitude towards the task in hand, a quiet word here, an icy look there means that everyone knows what to expect when Gwendraeth’s finest is in charge. All of this is in complete contrast with the personal hell that Nigel experienced over his sexuality. The chapter in which he deals with this explains the need for the book and may in no small way help others who feel the same to come to terms with their own demons. It is incredible, but nevertheless a fact, that a sport as macho as rugby football now appears to have shed its homophobic attitude. Speaking personally, a sportsman’s sexuality is of no concern - quite simply, I couldn’t care less. Brian Moore, the former England and British Lions hooker, recently said, “Hopefully, we are approaching the point where this sort of story will not fill the columns and the people involved will only be classed as heroes and villains for things they do on the field.” In eighteen months time Nigel will be officiating at the Rugby World Cup in New Zealand and must be one of the contenders to be in charge of the final, assuming Wales will not be playing and the politics of international sport notwithstanding. This would be a fitting climax to an already illustrious career and who knows may lead to another publishing success.

Vivian Hewitt PIONEER WALES TO IRELAND AVIATOR DAVID JONES

owadays, we take it for granted to be able to hop on plane and make the short flight from Wales to Ireland, across the Irish Sea. However, less than a century ago, for anyone to make such a journey was literally unheard of. Aviation was in its infancy at the turn of the century, but there was a brave race of men who accepted the daunting challenges it provided. Counted amongst them was a man by the name of Vivian Hewitt. This year marks the 45th anniversary of the death of brave pioneer who has his name written large in the history of aviation, as the first person to fly across the Irish Sea from Holyhead to Dublin. Vivian Hewitt was born into a wealthy family in Grimsby on 11 March, 1888. Whilst he was still very young his family moved from England and set up home in North Wales. Although his lust for life and interest in all around him was evident when he was a child, no-one could have imagined where his spirit of adventure would

No less than 193 airmen including the brave Leslie Allen - who almost snatched the record for the first WalesIreland flight from Hewitt perished during the three year period from 1910-1912

eventually lead him. In 1909, he became overwhelmingly inspired by the gallant deeds of aviator Blériot who flew the English Channel for the first time. Later that year, the young Hewitt rented a flying shed facility in Surrey and was indulged by his uncle who acquired an Antoinette, a basic flying machine that was fragile, temperamental and could only be flown in optimum weather conditions. Hewitt was counted amongst the pioneers of aviation in Britain and indeed his flying licence was only the 302nd issued. His first flying machine was later replaced by a more robust and technically superior 25 hp five cylinder Blériot monoplane, again courtesy of his benevolent uncle. After a spell working in England, he returned home to North Wales and purchased a strip of land near Rhyl, which he named Voryd Aerodrome. This was to become his base for flights from North Wales to all parts of the country and further afield to England. His first aerial exhibition from Voryd over Rhyl took place on 11 February, 1911 Again relying on his uncle’s generosity, Hewitt upgraded his mono plane to another Blériot model, powered by a 50 hp Gnome engine and made it his fondest wish to be the first man to make the flight from Wales to Ireland. His hopes though appeared to be dashed when on 22 March, 1912, whilst in London, he read in a newspaper that a fellow aviator, by the name of Leslie Allen, had flown to Holyhead in preparation of making an attempt on the flight across the Irish Sea. The following morning papers confirmed that Allen had indeed embarked on the flight, but later that day, evening paper headlines read: ‘Airman Lost in the Irish Sea’. Realising he could be beaten to being the first to achieve the feat, Hewitt hurried back to Rhyl and then flew to Holyhead in treacherous conditions to prepare. Due to bad weather conditions, he had an anxious wait. However, on 26 April, 1912, he was finally given the goahead for his historic flight. At 9.30 am, a large crowd

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assembled to watch him take off on his historic flight from Holyhead to Dublin. Hewitt was to later recall: “When I left Holyhead, the visibility was quite adequate but, half way across the Irish Sea, I ran into a thick bank of fog. I didn’t carry a compass so I had no means of knowing how to navigate but, earlier on, I had noticed the angle of the shadow of the sun on my wings. When I got out of the fog I adjusted the course of the plane, so the sun shadow fell approximately the same as before.” Despite what we would now regard as a frightening lack of even the most basic of navigational aids and with an inflated tyre for use as a lifebelt, he made good progress towards his goal. Eventually, he sighted what he believed to be the Wicklow Hills and realised he was something like ten mile off course. After making adjustments, he came upon Dublin Bay and was then guided in by following the River Liffey. He flew over the Irish capital at a height of 2,000 feet and as he neared Trinity College, his plane nearly turned upside down. He managed to right it only to hit a pocket of

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air over the Guinness Brewery, which reduced his speed from 70 mph to just 20 mph. He had never visited Dublin but had been informed that at the city end of the river he would encounter the Wellington monument. When he finally sighted the famous monument he looked for open space and made his touchdown on Irish soil. Pleased to have simply landed safely, he was still unsure exactly where he was. He later remembered: “It was a great relief when I arrived overland. I came down in an open area and when two men ran up to me, I enquired: ‘Where am I?’ They replied: ‘Phoenix Park, Dublin.’” Ever the modest man, Hewitt took the many congratulatory messages he received calmly and entered into his log the simple description of his amazing, historic flight: “The passage was very rough and the wind strong and the machine took some handling.” When he was later interviewed by members of the Press, he told them that a compass was useless at high altitudes. The steel used in the construction of the plane affected it, causing intermittent periods when it would spin uncontrollably. He reckoned because of a lack of navigating equipment, his journey was lengthened from the sixty miles he expected to travel, to a hundred miles. In all, his historic flight took just ninety minutes. He received a warm reception all day from well wishers from Dublin and the surrounding area who converged on Phoenix Park and: “…visited the beautiful white-winged machine and, if lucky, got a glimpse of the intrepid but modest aviator.” Hewitt’s achievement should not be underestimated, for the dangers to pioneering aviators at the time were very great. Indeed, no less than 193 airmen including the brave Leslie Allen, who almost snatched the record for the first Wales-Ireland flight from Hewitt, perished during the three year period from 1910-1912 After the First World War, the unmarried Hewitt, who always regarded Wales as his home, became increasingly reclusive. His place in aviation history assured, he gave up flying and retired to Anglesey. There he set up a bird sanctuary at Cemlyn Bay where he lived until his death in 1965, aged 77. Calls have been made for a permanent memorial to be built in Wales to mark the centenary of the remarkable flight from Wales to Ireland and the life of the Vivian Hewitt - the ‘magnificent man and his flying machine’.

The Celtic Entrepreneurs GWYN GRIFFITHS

“W

ouldn’t touch them with a barge pole, old chap,” said the man at AA Travel when I asked him to arrange a holiday crossing for me with Brittany Ferries in 1974. I declined his offer of a crossing with another ferry to Cherbourg and contacted Brittany Ferries directly. I have never used another ferry company since. I have watched the company grow, and become the biggest ferry service operating out of mainland Europe. I enjoyed its friendliness and commended its patronage of the arts and culture and have taken an interest in its history. The great nineteenth century philosopher and theologian Ernest Renan wrote of the “practical incapacity” of the Celts and that “never in the world were the laws of common sense and sound economy more joyously trodden under foot” than by his fellow Bretons. Never did anyone misrepresent his people so badly as that son of an unsuccessful boat-owning sea captain. The Breton is the true entrepreneur of the Celtic nations, a creature prepared to organise, cooperate, take

risks and - when necessary - resort to rougher methods. Brittany Ferries was born in turbulent times. Brittany in the post war period was poor and the 50s and 60s saw some violent confrontations. Catholic priests and others returned to Brittany after years in German prisoner of war camps with new ideas. They established the Jeunesse Agricole Chrétien, a sort of Christian Young Farmers movement. One of its members, a clever 15-year-old farmer labourer named Alexis Gourvennec could see what was happening. For every kilo of cauliflowers selling at 20 centimes, the farmer was lucky to get half a centime. The middlemen were ripping them off. Gourvennec, the emerging leader called the farmers together in 1960 and persuaded them to bring their produce to Saint-Pol-deLeon. This they did and took upon themselves the responsibility of selling their own cauliflowers. In 1961 there was a glut of artichokes and prices dropped through the floor. This time Gourvennec called on the government in Paris to intervene. The government refused and the farmers stormed the Sous-préfecture in Morlaix. Gourvennec and some of the other leaders were arrested sparking off a series of riots throughout Brittany. One man was killed and 30 injured in a battle with the French riot police in Pontivy. A law was rushed through parliament allowing the farmers legally to sell and market their own produce. This was the start of the Société d’initiative de coopération agricole (SICA) - and

One man was killed and 30 injured in a battle with the French riot police in Pontivy. Gourvennec and some of the other leaders were arrested sparking off a series of riots throughout Brittany a fair deal for farmers. Today the SICA operates from nice offices in Kerisnel, outside Saint-Pol, overlooking the estuary leading up to Morlaix. They pioneered a modern electronic system of selling their produce. Buyers must visit warehouses in the neighbouring villages at 6 am and get back to the SICA headquarters by 8 am for the sale they play the supermarkets off against each other. At the same time the SICA actively seeks new markets for its members. The next step was for the farmers to set up their own - exporting ferry service. Roscoff is an old port with centuries of trading history with countries from Norway to Portugal - importing timber and exporting salt, fruit and vegetables. All of this was destroyed by the Napoleonic wars. Also the old port is shallow and reliant on the tides. Gourvennec successfully made a case for building a deep water dock on the east side of the town. It was built in 1972, mostly with French government money. But no ferry company could be persuaded to use it - they all argued that Roscoff was too far to the west, it couldn’t possibly make economic sense.

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History had an answer. In 1828, in the depths of post-Napoleonic depression, Henri Olivier and five of his pals had chartered a boat and sailed to Plymouth with a load of Breton onions. They sold the lot and were back home “their belts stuffed with gold sovereigns” within a week and had started the famous “Shoni onion man” tradition. Gourvennec got the farmers together and revealed his next plan. He was going to hire a boat, an old tank landing craft which loaded lorries could roll on and roll off at the other end. He demanded cash on the table, no cheques, no promises, no IOUs. The following night the men delivered. The Kerisnel, as the boat was named, sailed for the first time from the deep port at Roscoff to Plymouth on January 3rd, 1973, the day after Britain joined the Common Market: the same route as taken by the first onion men over 140 years earlier. It did reduce the damage done to vegetables loaded and unloaded at both ends of the sea voyage. Now they were being loaded on to a lorry and not unloaded until it arrived at Covent Garden.

It soon became evident that there was another potential market tourists. In 1974 Brittany Ferries began to accommodate tourists, a trade which grew quickly with amazing results. Brittany Ferries had put Roscoff back where it was prior to the French Revolution, at the hub of the Atlantic rim, doing business with its traditional trading partners - Britain, Ireland and Spain. By the summer of 1974, the company had acquired another boat, Penn ar Bed (Finistère in Breton, Welsh speakers will recognise it as Pen y Byd, the end of the World). The Brittany holidays I remember in the 70s was one of busy camp sites, sunny weather and vast sandy beaches - perfect for a family of six. A new development took place. The wives of the farmers who had bank rolled the Brittany Ferries project persuaded their husbands to renovate old cottages and adapt farm buildings into comfortable, picturesque self-catering gîtes. Instead of the miles of caravans that we see on the Welsh coast, Brittany attracts the type of tourist who spends more and takes greater interest in history and heritage. LOCAL HERO: Alexis Gourvennec with supporters in 1960 How many people get work as a result of Brittany Ferries? It is hard to tell. What began as a ferry linking Roscoff and Plymouth, quickly expanded with a service linking Portsmouth and Saint-Malo, then with links to Cork and Santander in northern Spain. In 1986 Brittany Ferries acquired and developed the Truckline company,

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linking Portsmouth to Caen, convenient to anyone on a motoring holiday in central or southern France. Later came the Poole Cherbourg service. Around 3,000 people are directly employed by the company. All are French citizens, apart from those working in ports outside France. The guesstimates for jobs created by the existence and growth of Brittany Ferries vary wildly - anything between 20,000 and 40,000 - and I have heard it suggested that over 7 million people visit Brittany every year. Not all by Brittany Ferries of course! As Brittany Ferries grew, subsidiaries were formed - SENECAL, SABEMEN and SENAMANCHE - to take ownership of the boats and hire them back to Brittany Ferries. Just as the farmers have retained the majority share of Brittany Ferries, local investors, in the form of local banks, local councils, farmers &c also own the individual ferryboats. Gabriel-Honoré Mirabeau, the man from Provence who was leader of the French Assembly in the early years of the Revolution argued that stock markets were a destructive force, sucking money from the provinces and depriving them of investment. Another lesson the Bretons have learnt? The Brittany Ferries phenomenon has coincided with other Breton entrepreneurial projects. Edouard Leclerc started selling goods from his garage in Landerneau, a small town in Finistère. Today, Leclerc is the biggest supermarket chain in France. Intermarché (of Lorient) was set up by Jean-Pierre Le Roch, now vying for third position in the hierarchy of French supermarket chains. Both have a policy of supporting local producers - a substantial percentage of the goods they sell in the individual stores has to be local. Leclerc operates a franchise

basis but provides any individual or group - usually an employee of the company - who wants to set up a new Leclerc superstore with substantial financial and marketing backing. Intermarché is unique in its support of Breton concerns. Le Roch bought up canning factories and abattoirs which were in danger of failing and used them to supply his superstores, and saved thousands of Breton jobs. Travelling through France I often use the rapidly expanding B & B Hotels chain, established by François Branellec in Brest in 1990 although now sold on, which gives excellent value for money. Another Breton-based hotel chain is Brit’Hotels established in 1993 by Couedic Madore Holdings a family company based in Loudeac - a small town in the heart of Brittany. There appears to be no end to the entrepreneurial skills of the Bretons. Five brothers, the Guillemot family of Carentoir, again in the Breton heartland, set up Ubisoft in 1986. It is now the second biggest provider of video games in Europe, and the fourth in the World, employing 4200 in a dozen countries, exactly double the population of Carentoir, where Guillemot Corporation is still based. Recently, in Rennes, I spent an

llydaw - breizh - Br ittany

CELTIC PIONEER:

afternoon with Philippe Argouarc’h who, after many years working in Information Technology in the US returned to Paris to set up the International Herald Tribune French website. When he retired he came back to his native Brittany and set up a multi-lingual news website,

Alexis Gourvennec today

Agence Bretagne Presse, for Brittany which is the most user friendly for a contributor or reader that I have ever seen. He operates on a shoestring and a staff of himself plus another working part-time. Ernest Renan was a great writer and thinker, but his analysis of the entrepreneurial skills of his fellow Bretons was way out. George W. Bush famously said that the French were no entrepreneurs - they didn’t even have a word for it, he claimed! The French can speak for themselves. The Bretons are certainly entrepreneurs, and the Breton language, too, has a word for it - for anyone interested it is “embreger”.

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Literature Sense of Place

How green once more SAM ADAMS

ilfach Goch is a former mining village that occupies a valley of its own. Its river, the Ogwr Fach is a tributary of the Ogwr, which debouches at Ogmore-by-Sea. The entrance to the valley has low, rounded hills on either side, but the upper end presents a steep-sided mountain wall, rising to a distinctive, almost symmetrical eminence, the highest point, at about twelve hundred feet. Just here, it is no more than a quar-

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ter of a mile across the moor, before an equally steep descent into Blaenclydach and the Rhondda. Topographically and otherwise, Gilfach is recognisably the setting of How Green Was My Valley. In the novel, the Valley (always capitalised) is a separate place from which characters go ‘over the mountain’ to meet people less moral and scrupulous than themselves and, sooner or later, bad experiences. The Morgans, aristocrats of the Valley, whom other characters look up to, or envy for their natural authority, are as clearly based upon the family of Joe Griffiths, one of whose four talented sons, Will, then head of the Welsh department at Foyles in London, told Richard Llewellyn his story and introduced him to his father and to Gilfach. Llewellyn had been working on a coalfield novel for some time, but Will Griff (who later opened a famous bookshop of his own, ‘Griff ’s’ in Cecil Court, just off Charing Cross Road) revealed to him how a sprawling historical narrative could be compressed and contained, and ultimately turned into a fable of working class paradise lost. The action unfolds in the closing decades of the nineteenth century

Topographically and otherwise, Gilfach is recognisably the setting of How Green Was My Valley and the beginning of the twentieth, and many of the dramatic incidents are to do with turbulence in the mining industry. It is, then, a story of colliers against grasping mine owners, strikes, unionisation, accidents underground. For these, Llewellyn borrowed loosely from history, as a novelist has every right to do, but not the general history of the coalfield. Rather, he describes versions of historical events in Gilfach Goch. The Britannic Colliery, part of the Cambrian Combine, was the principal focus of trouble there during the 1910-11 strike, when Metropolitan Police and Munster Fusiliers were billeted in the valley and mounted Hussars conducted exercises from over the mountain. In the novel, the pit where the Morgan men work is the ‘Britannia’ and there is specific reference to the presence of police and Munster Fusiliers. The dramatic incident when strikers try to flood the pit while the pit manager and office clerks stoke the fires in the boiler house to power the pump, had its precise historical parallel on 15 November 1910, when catastrophe seemed immi-

nent and was with difficulty averted. I knew nothing of these events, although my grandparents and parents lived through them, and they were equally silent about the troubles in later years - 1926 and the Depression of the 1930s. The village I knew was at work twenty-four hours a day throughout the year - until coal was nationalised and the pits began to close. As a small boy, nearly five at the outbreak of World War II, I would cross the road from our front gate (traffic being sparse in those days) to the Vaughan’s. George and Trevor, though older by two years or more, were my friends. At the bottom of their garden was an unfenced drop of perhaps twelve feet to the railway lines where steam locomotives tugged empty coal trucks up the valley and full ones down. Immediately beyond the railway lines was a great corrugated iron shed on stilts, where the coal was screened. Throughout the day, journeys of loaded drams from the pit climbed the incline up to the screens to be tilted and emptied, so that the coal could be sorted and graded before being poured down a chute to fill the coal trucks waiting beneath. The noise of gushing steam, shunting trucks and rattling drams, the clangour of iron striking iron, the crashing cascades of coal and slag waste, were so much part of life they were barely noticed. The predominance of black - the locomotives, the trucks and drams, the screens, the slag-built incline - was as normal to our eyes as was the constant noise to our ears. That part of the Glenavon Colliery (known locally as ‘The

Squint’) was no more than fifty yards from our front door. It was a drift mine and the lamp room, engine house, stables and other buildings were clustered around the level about a quarter of a mile distant down the valley. My father worked there; he was the sole colliery electrician, days regular, but on call at any hour, day or night. Two more working pits, the Trane and the Britannic, higher up the valley, where the mountains closed around, and others worked out and closed, contributed their piles of colliery waste either side of the river. No more than three hundred yards up from our house was a slag heap resembling an enormous black igloo. A vast tip dominated the upper reaches of the valley where the river rose, and the other side of the valley was largely filled with a mountain range of slag, with its own peaks and canyons. The road linking the two sides of the valley was laid upon a great pile of slag and still glowing clinker from the steam-driven engine house, which proved a combustible mixture. Throughout the years I walked along it to the elementary school, the road cracked, crumbled and smoked like a dormant volcano. In rain, it steamed and stank. One of the earliest schools in the

village and several houses were buried beneath the tips. This gave Richard Llewellyn the frame he needed for his best-selling novel, with Huw, last survivor of the Morgans, narrating his story while waiting for the encroaching tip to begin piling up against the walls of his family home: ‘Soon, perhaps in an hour, the house will be buried, and the slag heap will stretch from the top of the mountain right down to the river in the Valley.’ It also suggested the title ‘Slag’, before the happy inspiration of How Green Was My Valley. Today no vestige of the mining past remains. The self-containment of Gilfach probably appealed as much to planners eager to show what land reclamation could achieve as it did to Richard Llewellyn. By 1973, the tips had been cleared, the valley scooped out afresh as though by a new ice age, and the river taught to flow clean again, though in a largely manmade channel. You can see clear across the valley and the predominant colour is green. But enormous resources of coal remain under the ground, and who knows what the future will bring?. If any reader knows the origin of the nickname ‘The Squint’, perhaps they could let us know.

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Profile Herbert Williams POET

& NOVELIST

PAUL GROVES

erbert and I first met when reading together at Ottakar’s, Aberystwyth in July 2002. We more fully engaged during the meeting for this article conducted at his Fairwater home on his 77th birthday. My father was also born on 8th September, and I wondered if they shared any traits. A certain tome on astrology classes such individuals as ‘puzzling purists’: serious and dynamic at best, unyielding and authoritarian at worst. That certainly applied to my dad, though my interviewee seemed an altogether mellower proposition. This might be accounted for by the cancer therapy he is receiving; implants are reducing his testosterone, a hormone on which such tumours feed. He appears to be as acceptant about his condition as about life in general. ‘Give me the insignificant times’ begins his poem ‘Nothing to Report’. ‘Give me the strictly anonymous hours / …the lightweight day / When girls get married, and old men snooze, / And history looks the other way.’ He hymns those occasions ‘When work is honest, and hands are clean, / And nothing happens, except that, God! / The boys grow tall, and the grass grows green’. He is a chronicler of the commonplace and the common man. Were the silent majority better aware of him they might proclaim him their champion. He is courteous and unassuming and not a polemicist. Equally, his nostalgia is free from cloying sentimentality. As Meic Stephens has said, ‘His poems use plain diction to reveal the pathos of even the

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He sees himself primarily as a poet, one inevitably influenced by Dylan Thomas, Vernon Watkins, and Idris Davies. Such was his appetite for knowledge that he was reading George Bernard Shaw at the age of eight. most humdrum of lives.’ Born in Aberystwyth in 1932, he was the youngest of six children. His father spoke Welsh - unlike his mother, who hailed from Swansea. Williams père was a fine tenor, sang in the church choir, and worked as a painter and decorator; his own father disallowed his attendance at Ardwyn Grammar School, insisting he get a job instead. Living in a council house, with limited prospects of advancement, he educated himself. Herbert’s sister Kate had better luck, reading English at the town’s university. His other female sibling, Lilian, studied French and German in London. During the war she was at Bletchley Park decoding enemy messages. His brother Bobby, ten years his senior, died at home aged 25 from tuberculosis, a disease which afflicted another brother, Vic. Herbert himself succumbed in 1948 and was sent to Talgarth for treatment. The sanatorium was an austere establishment whose windows, in the interests of health, seldom closed. He stayed there for two years, sixteen months of which were spent in bed. Naturally, his education suffered, though the hospital had a well-stocked library from whose shelves he derived not just one good read after another but building blocks for his literary career. Of the six children, three remain. Lilian, now 92, lives in Llanfairfechan; Richard, 84, resides

in Guildford. Herbert’s orientation is to the Wales of his youth. He claims ‘We have lost the old tongue, and with it / The old ways too’. Balancing this, he admits ‘Oh yes, there have been gains. / I merely state / That the language, for us, / Is part of the old, abandoned ways’. Strange, you might think, given that Welsh is taught throughout the land, whereas for him Latin was compulsory at secondary level, and Welsh and French were mutually exclusive options. He is, instead, recalling a proud if sidelined nation whose communities, though often materially poor, were rich in home-grown culture unadulterated by the influence of television and intrusive commercialisation. Paradoxically, he worked for the BBC in Cardiff after employment as a Welsh Gazette and South Wales Echo journalist. He progressed from his first verse collection (Too Wet for the Devil, 1963) to books about stagecoaches, railways, and the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. Further publications include a well-regarded biography of John Cowper Powys. He sees himself primarily as a poet, one inevitably influenced by Dylan Thomas, Vernon Watkins, and Idris Davies. Such was his appetite for knowledge and the myriad viewpoints typified by quality literature that he was reading George Bernard Shaw at the age of eight. He is a leftish moderate. Since

Tony Blair took Labour to the right he has voted for Plaid Cymru. While never officially a CND member he has joined its marches. He calls himself more an internationalist than a nationalist but is no firebrand, doubtless aware that empty vessels can make the most sound. He is supported by his delightful

wife Dorothy and his five children, nine grandchildren, and three greatgrandchildren. She used to play the violin, and something of her ability has descended to her offspring, several of whom are overtly musical. I suggest you approach his poetry through the amusingly named Wrestling in Mud which appeared in

2007. For those who prefer absorption in a novel, there are four to choose from, The Marionettes being the latest. You will not be disappointed by whatever you select, for Herbert Williams is an accomplished writer whose magnanimity and humility are discernible throughout his oeuvre.

A review of Phil Carradice's monograph on Herbert Williams in the WRITERS OF WALES series will appear in a future number.

ME - The Authorised Biography Byron Rogers (Aurum Press, £16.99) SAM ADAMS

n 2007, Byron Rogers published a biography of R. S. Thomas, The Man Who Went Into The West, which, without neglecting rigour, altogether avoided the usual solemn parade of facts. Contriving to be both seriously enlightening and entertaining - a rare accomplishment - it attracted critical plaudits and walked off with the James Tait Black Memorial Prize. If the austere life of a literary lion can be treated thus unconventionally, how much more unorthodox could the writer’s version of his own life be? Quite a lot, actually: he eschews time’s arrow, the usual plod from background and birth through upbringing and education, to chosen career and adult life’s ups and downs. They are all there, but arranged in a way that grabs the reader’s

attention at the outset, and holds it by refreshing variety and juxtaposition. The quality of the writing is a constant. Byron Rogers is a fine prose stylist, one who has the wellhoned gift of ease of expression. As you read you sense an intelligence (almost hear a voice) cultivated, self-deprecating, full of curiosity about people and places, often amused, occasionally, though never for long, melancholy over change and loss. You might imagine him telling his stories over a pint in a pub that has, amazingly, escaped the notice of developers, where the art of conversation still survives. The landlord of one such, the Old Red Lion at Litchborough, shares the dedication of the book with Byron’s wife, Jo. He was born into a crowded, Welsh-speaking home near Bancyfelin in 1942. His father, carpenter, occasional undertaker, gifted craftsman and model-maker, is the boy’s hero, and the grown man’s. His mother, unlettered, and careless of being so, content to know nothing of the outside world, is (one suspects) a perpetual mystery to him. Unexpectedly, the core, the very heart of the book, is a series of portraits in a chapter devoted to his parents and in-laws. We gather information about his life and acquaintance on the move, as it were. It is a book made for browsing; everywhere you look you

BYRON ROGERS

will find acute observation and sharp wit, and nostalgia leavened with humour. But, in brief summary, we learn that when he was five the family moved into Carmarthen, where the beginnings of an English language education roughly set him on a trajectory that was to lead to Oxford University; thence to a career in journalism, and, eventually, to The Times and The Daily Telegraph Magazine in the palmy days when a features writer could propose, successfully, a trip to Greenland or a profile of a Welsh tramp. Late in life he turned from journalism to writing books. The first he marketed at a local butchers’ with the sweetener of a pound of sausages, but it is no surprise that, since then, his writing has charmed a wide readership and knowledgeable critics. Plain spoken and frequently laugh-out-loud funny, Me is a fine addition to a list one hopes will continue to grow.

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The Early Medieval Church in Wales David Petts (The History press, £18.99) DANIEL J. MULLINS

hristianity has been a major formative element in the history of Europe. Nowhere has that been more true than in the history of Wales. The Christian faith came to Britain during the Roman occupation of the island. It was centred particularly on the Roman towns. The organisation of church life was modelled on Roman administrative arrangements. The Latin dioecesis meant a district under a governor; a parochus was an officer charged with providing for ambassadors and magistrates on their journeys. By the beginning of the fourth century, Christianity was widely established. The earliest recorded martyrs Alban and, at Caerleon, Julius and Aaron, died sometime in the first decade of the century, during the persecution under Diocletian. In the Acta of the regional church Council of Arles in 314, immediately after the Edict of Milan of 313 which ended the persecution and gave restitution to the Church for loss of property, four representatives from Provincia Britannia are named (cf. p159). David Petts a lecturer in Archaeology at Durham University gives his aim in writing this welcome volume. ‘This book tries to unpick genuine history from the

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tapestry of myth and legend that dominates many popular versions of the early Welsh church.’ (p9) It was A.W. Wade-Evans, an Anglican Priest, who led a frontal assault on what he considered a ‘modern invention of a so-called "Celtic Church" as opposed to Rome – a notion so outrageous that only modern political and ecclesiastical strife could have imagined it’. (cf. p14) Mr Petts carefully and systematically sets out the different strands of evidence now available. An archaeologist by training he begins with such limited archaeological evidence as survives in Wales. He gives detailed attention to the stone sculpture that had been brought together by V.E. Nash-Williams in his Early Christian monuments in Wales (UWP, 1950). Many additional examples have come to light in the intervening years and major revision of this evidence is on-going under the direction of Nancy Edwards of University College, Bangor. The chapter on all this material demands careful attention. That it is now available in a relatively concise form (pp26-43) is very welcome. There follows an examination of the documentary evidence. The Lives of the Saints need to be read with care. They undoubtedly preserve many older traditions. The writers, however, had their own local concerns, such as the rights to property. The compiling of the Book of Llandaf was concerned to advance the claims of the South Wales diocese which had been renamed and was seeking to extend its territory. The medieval Law Books are also relevant as is the poetry of the Poets of the Princes. The task of editing the entire canon of their works was completed in 1996, and a rendering into contemporary Welsh has made the reading

and study of this formal court poetry accessible to students and scholars alike. Nor can be left out the works of Gerald of Wales, that idiosyncratic and opinionated commentator on all things ecclesiastical in Wales and in Ireland. Subsequent chapters look at what remains of the sites of early church buildings. Turning to the use of those churches, only a limited number of artefacts, including the vessels and plates needed for the celebration of the Eucharist and the sacraments remain. The rites surrounding death and burial are looked at. Christian burial and the setting aside of cemeteries is significant evidence of the Christian Faith in the lives of the people, both of the leaders and of people in every stratum of Welsh society. Case studies of two very different areas, that surrounding St Davids in Pembrokeshire, and that of Pennant Melangell and Hirnant in Montgomeryshire illustrate how landscape and geography have been marked. In these areas and indeed across Wales, the holy wells and the places of pilgrimage all testify to the inheritance which is the Wales of today. The final chapter is an overview of all that has gone before. No doubt it is inevitable that the Easter controversy should be given prominence, a controversy that arose from differing uses at Antioch and Alexandria and which was not finally agreed in the Wet until the ninth century. More unsettling for the church in Britain was Augustine’s claim to metropolitan jurisdiction. Since Christianity in Britain was ‘a firmly urban religion’ (p159) and because there are fewer urban centres in Wales. The monasteries became centres of ecclesiastical organisation. The growing influence of the Welsh Princes and its consequences are noted. This was to have

far-reaching consequences that would lead to growing tension between bishops and nobility. The Medieval Church in Wales is a demanding but very worthwhile read, In the final paragraph, the author sums up all the evidence and its significance: ‘The presence of…distinct national and local expressions of religious practice do not make the Welsh church any different from any other developed churches of western Christendom. This book has shown that the Welsh church….should be understood as part of the mainstream of early medieval Christianity in Europe and not as an isolated and idiosyncratic backwater’. (p197)

The Council of the Cursed Peter Tremayne (Headline £7.99) GWYN GRIFFITHS

his novel begins with a brawl between Cadfan, abbot of Gwynedd, and Ordgar, bishop of Kent, at the 670 AD Council of Autun, Burgundy. It was a gathering to reinforce the decisions made in Whitby in 664 when Oswy of Northumbria rejected the practices of the Irish missionaries sent to convert the AngloSaxons in favour of those advocated by the Roman Church. History shows that Autun proved more devastating to the Celtic Church than Whitby. We are told that Autun a year earlier had adopted a policy of celibacy and segregation of the sexes among the clergy. While this policy had the approval of the Franks and the Anglo-Saxons, it was opposed by the Armoricans (Bretons),

Britons (Welsh), the Gauls and the Irish. Clerics had to divorce their wives and children - or move elsewhere. The former wives and children, we discover, were taken from the convent and sold into slavery. Whether this was happening at Autun is not known but it is a historical fact that it did happen as the Roman Church enforced celibacy among its clerics. But to return to the novel. The night after the verbal and physical fisticuffs between the Saxon Ordgar and the Welsh Cadfan the Irish Abbot Dabhóc is found murdered in Ordgar’s room. Alongside his body lie, unconscious, Ordgar and Cadfan. It is assumed that one of them is the murderer. And so arrives our heroine, Sister Fidelma of Cashel, a dálaigh of the Irish law courts, with her Saxon husband Brother Eadulf. Her reputation as a solver of mysteries and murders precedes her and despite the problems of a woman in the monks’ quarters she and Eadulf are asked to decide who is responsible. Nothing is as simple as it appears. There are sub-plots galore as the magnificently liberated Fidelma is sucked into a religious commune festering under the new order. The Burgunds are plotting against the ruling Franks, and the civilised Celts and the barbaric Saxons loathe each other. All is revealed eventually in a gathering of the sexes in the abbey chapel and, naturally, it is those we least suspect who are responsible for the many dastardly deeds. Peter Tremayne sustains a terrific

pace from beginning to end in a page-turner second to none. The hostile atmosphere is wonderfully conjured up together with the descriptions of this post-Roman centre with its glorious architecture. Add to this the author’s firm grasp of history and it is a recipe for a great read. Peter Tremayne, incidentally, is the nom-de-plume of the prolific and respected Celtic historian Peter Berresford Ellis. This is the nineteenth volume in his Sister Fidelma series, and while I cannot profess to have read them all, I suspect this one must rank among the best. At a time when popular (i.e. TV) historians would rather choke than mention anything Celtic, it is refreshing to read something so well disposed towards Celtic history.

Owain Glyndwˆr The Story of the Last Prince of Wales Terry Breverton (Amberley, £15.99). CLIVE BETTS

erry Breverton has certainly made a name for himself in Wales in a short time. But then, as he himself admits, his trade (and former academic calling, in Cardiff ) is as an expert in marketing. According to his own web-page, he has achieved no fewer than 23 books since the

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Millennium - although some admittedly are American editions with slightly altered titles. But it remains a phenomenal work-rate as part of his deep desire to “counter-balance existing published material on Wales”. How does he do it? A hefty wodge of cut-and-paste no doubt helps avoid wearing out the typing fingers. Not so much perhaps with Owain Glyndwˆr, with its fine cover picture of the new bronze sculpture of the Welsh hero at Corwen, a very necessary replacement for the earlier one which depicted him as a midget in wellington boots. But quantity sometimes militates against quality. On the page about the birth of the rebellion at Caerdrewyn, Carrog, near Corwen, on September 16, 1400, opposing versions are given about the banner of revolt that he raised (although the author was sufficiently alert to change a wrong date given by one of his sources). Sometimes, we are left confused as to which Prince of Wales is attacking which (the historic sources used would usually assume that only the Crown can provide a Prince of Wales). But Glyndwˆr himself had been acclaimed into that position on September 16 - but that presumably would have demanded too many changes in text. Dealing with the late-medieval period can be perilous for accuracy and full understanding - no Western Mail reporters at hand to take down the latest official and unofficial versions. Confusion can easily set in. Was it only days before September 16 that his double-dealing English neighbour Lord Grey had tried to entrap Glyndwˆr at his very home at Carrog, forcing him to escape into the hills? A lovely, fast-reading tale. But when did it happen?

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At one point, Breverton places his reliance on Owen Rhoscomyl - a predecessor of a century ago who saw the same great need to change the way the Welsh saw themselves, but no true historian. With the university at Wrexham naming itself proudly after Glyndwr (a story I don’t think the Western Mail ever got around to covering), we are clearly in a brand-new world. Glyndwˆr’s career demands a revived and deeper re-working by our writers, publishers and historians. Breverton had, in fact, helped get that process under way by using his own imprint to bring out G J Brough’s Glyn Dwˆr’s War, focussing on a strictly day-by-day approach. Amberley, one of the clutch of worthy publishers inhabiting old woollen mills in the Stroud valley of Gloucestershire, lauds this volume as “the first ever full-scale biography” - although I’m not sure that the shade of Professor R R Davies would agree. Amberley is medium-weight for publishing. They are one of several publishers in their region with decent Welsh history lists - which begs the question of why the absence of the Welsh from that field.

The Buildings of Wales: Gwynedd Richard Haslam, Julian Orbach and Adam Voelker Pevsner Architectural Guides. (Yale University Press, £35) THOMAS LLOYD

t is finished! Thirty years after the first volume in the Buildings of Wales series appeared (Powys in 1979, then still under the editori-

al control of Sir Nikolaus Pevsner himself), the final, seventh volume has now emerged triumphant. Though Sir Nikolaus himself, founder of this famous, and now eponymous, series covering the whole of the United Kingdom, is long gone to a place of higher architecture, there is a very pleasing continuity of authorship here: Richard Haslam, sole author of the Powys volume now appears again as a joint author of Gwynedd, together with Julian Orbach, a co-author of the two recent Dyfed volumes and Adam Voelker a practicing architect based in Snowdonia. But how the series has changed over those thirty years. The Powys volume was one of the last that even pretended it might fit into a pocket, which Sir Nikolaus intended as part of his mission to make fine architecture easily and popularly appreciated. Gwynedd is brick shaped and equally heavy. It weighs in at just under 800 pages, beautifully printed and produced and with the familiar central section of 120 photographs, judiciously chosen by the authors (no doubt with much infighting as to their favoured buildings) to represent the entire built history of the three old counties from stone age to this very year. Apart from the fascinating range of architecture, carving and sculpture that these images show (much of it probably little known), they display the skill of building photography at the topmost flight of quality. Chief credit for this achievement goes to Iain Wright of the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historic Monuments of Wales, together with images from Cadw. Easy as it is to remain captivated by these views, they are only there to illustrate the text, which even if not these days pitched in quite the idiosyncratic, pithy and laconic manner of Sir Nikolaus himself, still follows the house style derived from him

which makes reading a Pevsner an experience like no other, with its aim to convey as much as possible in as few, perfectly chosen words as can be assembled. It is an art form in itself, harmoniously mastered by the three co-authors. All this is but presentation of the actual subject: the buildings of mighty Gwynedd. The three historic counties of Caernarfon, Anglesey and Merioneth seem to have it all. Gloriously long in rugged coastline, the carpets of rich green fields and woods rise inexorably up into the central ranges of towering Snowdonia. All the mystery and fascination of the ancient kingdom of Wales is here, and from those ancient warriors later generations of proud Welsh descended, sticking tenaciously to their homeland and traditions, and fixing onto their landscape their versions of castles, houses, churches, chapels which in the days before London fashions seeped over everything, gave an unique, rugged, character to the area. This still survives today remarkably intact in many of the remoter areas (of which, thankfully many yet remain). There is a strange nobility to many of these early buildings. Famous houses like Gwydir Castle, PORTMEIRION

- The Town Hall

near Llanrwst, Plas Mawr in Conwy and Hafoty on Anglesey provided standards of accommodation as sophisticated as anywhere, yet in outward form and detail they belong only here. Churches likewise, Anglesey in particular producing examples such as Llaneilian, which are engagingly odd. With the Snowdonia mountain churches the unique sense of place is even more obvious. In recent years, other writers, such as Sir Simon Jenkins, have written with great passion about these national treasures of Wales, the very obscurity of which kept them out of the hands of Victorian restorers. And now in this volume the character and history of each is carefully distilled and explained within the context of their often magnificent settings, yet in language never descending into sentimentality. Sir Nikolaus founded his whole series on a desire to bring people to know the beauty and meaning of architecture and one can sometimes sense the present authors pioneering their way to these places to fulfil his mission. Driving, footslogging, considering and writing are the obvious elements one appreciates when dipping quickly or immersing oneself in a Pevsner volume. What is less obvious because of the YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS deftness of the writing, is the endless amount of library research which informs the text. In recent years, much more has been brought onto the record thanks to the highly successful re-listing of the buildings of Wales by Cadw and at local level by those interest-

ed in the history of their community. Even so, a wearisome programme of working through the architectural journals of the 19th century at the Royal Institute of British Architects in London is inevitable, together with all the grant application papers of the Incorporated Church Building Society from c.1810 and likewise for the building of parsonages. Research indeed is a full half of the total project, and the fruits of it can be appreciated by scanning the pages for the names in italics of the architects and craftsmen whose skills gave form to the buildings described. Names of the famous sit happily alongside local, native born practitioners who would have been forgotten but for this painstaking work. Gwynedd of course is home to some of the most famous buildings in the world, as recognised by their elevation to World Heritage Sites. Familiarity perhaps dulls us to just how magnificent those castles are. The sheer scale of Caernarfon is astonishing: it takes twelve pages and a whole page plan to explain it. Yet how many people know Castell y Bere, way up in the fastnesses of Merioneth, one of Llywelyn the Greatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mountain fortresses with characteristic round tower? Not much remains to any height, so that comparison with Caernarfon is hardly appropriate, but both in their quite different ways have profound impact - the one a swaggering monument of conquest, the other the tenacious determination to defend and stay free. But there are so many more layers to this endlessly rich landscape from subsequent centuries. Industry brought huge wealth to some, who

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GWYDIR CASTLE

put up huge houses as at the almost ridiculous Penrhyn. Their workforce left their monuments too in the slate mills and quarries, in their ways equally large and impressive and no

less important. The difficult terrain caused the great engineers Telford and Stevenson to create here three of the greatest bridges of the new industrial world. The seaside espoused graceful piers and resort towns of which Llandudno and Portmeirion are jewels. However well you know them, reading the texts here will greatly enhance your knowledge and respect: the combination of understanding and elucidation set forth in these particular two entries is profound. The extraordinary achievement of Clough Williams Ellis in particular is perfectly expounded. As always, the volume starts with a long introduction, summing up the whole gazetteer in sectional reviews of period and type. Many people skip this but it is important and rewarding, giving a context to all the hundreds of gazetteer entries (for

indeed one of the great joys of a Pevsner is the coverage of the hundreds of lesser known but interesting buildings). It includes sections on geology and landscape which underpin all the built heritage. And at the end are the usual architectural glossaries and various detailed indexes for ease of reference. There is an unfortunate error here with the transposition of the first pages of two, most uncharacteristic of a Pevsner volume, but it is easy to adjust to what has gone wrong. The text throughout has a scattering of maps and text figures in the now customary way: finely drawn castle ground plans and engravings of old buildings. There is a certain odd randomness about the latter (some not very important) but overall this book is a triumph, a literary monument to match its own subject matter.

Books Richness and variety MEIC STEPHENS

y Christmas stocking was full to overflowing again this year. Apart from an orange, a toffee-apple, a model aeroplane, a penknife, a catapult, a teneuro piece and a lump of small coal for good luck, there were enough books to keep me occupied throughout the festive season and beyond. May I tell you about some of them? First, there were two glossy coffee-table books, Gower (Gomer, £19.99) by Nigel Jenkins and David Pearl, a superb evocation of the peninsula, its chequered history and rich culture, and John Davies’s Cymru: y 100 lle i’w gweld cyn marw (Y Lolfa, £19.95). The latter is generously illustrated by the photographs of Marian Delyth. It is astonishing how such a small country as Cymru is so varied, so chockfull with buildings - monuments, lighthouses, chapels and churches, castles and standing stones, follies, canals, bridges, statues, cemeteries, arts centres, country houses and industrial sites - all of which are introduced with loving attention to detail by the historian and TV guru John Davies. The hundred examples of the built environment that he suggests you must see before you die are all within easy access, though few people, not even the most ardent patriot, will get round to seeing them all. Still, they can make a start with this wonderful guide to our country’s most interesting places. Terry Breverton also has an encyclopaedic knowledge of his country, as he demonstrates in Wales: a

Historical Companion (Amberley Publishing, £17,99), a brave attempt to arrange in alphabetical order the events, personalities and institutions which have shaped Wales over the ages. Simon Young, in The Celtic Revolution (Gibson Square, £14.99), also tries to get a lot into a small space, sometimes biting off more than he can chew in his account of the Celts in Europe over the last 2,000 years. One of the books that have given me particular pleasure are Glyn Houston’s A Black and White Actor (Dean Powell, £9.99) in which I also read, with dismay, of the lonely last years of his brother Donald, whose screen appearances I admired. I saw him in one of the first performances of Under Milk Wood in the late 1950s and was ever after a fan of his. Gwyn Griffiths has put us all in his debt by collecting the poems of Evan James, the man who wrote the words of our national anthem, the bicentenary of whose birth was celebrated last year. His book Awdur Hen Wlad fy Nhadau/The Author of our Anthem (Carreg Gwalch, £8.50) is redolent of a pre-industrial Gwent and Glamorgan, Welsh in language and culturally lively. Although I spent only a year there, Bangor has a claim on my affections, if only because my wife and three of my four children were also educated at the College on the Hill. David Roberts, the University’s Registrar, has written a readable account of the institution’s history in Bangor University 18842009 (UWP, £29.99). I have spent a good few hours reading Hafina Clwyd’s Prynu Lein Ddillad . . . (Carreg Gwalch, £8.50). She is a diarist of great talent and here lets us take a peek into what she was doing and thinking during the years from 1980 to

It is astonishing how such a small country as Cymru is so varied... 1992. I may have some serious reservations about her description of how Y Faner lost its grant (I was there!), but otherwise, she is a reliable witness to events and personalities of the day, and moreover, a genial and engaging commentator who is always worth reading. One of the pastimes close to Hafina’s heart is family history, and she has a chapter on the Census in Olrhain Hanes Bro a Theulu (Carreg Gwalch, £12) edited by Rheinallt Llwyd and D. Huw Owen. This is a most useful handbook on how to go about tracing your ancestry and what resources are available. The many admirers of Meredydd Evans, our national treasure who has just celebrated his ninetieth birthday, will want to buy Hela’r Hen Ganeuon (Y Lolfa, £14.95), a collection of his essays about Welsh folk-tunes and those who preserved them by writing them down: Iolo Morganwg, Ifor Ceri, Jane Williams and John Lloyd Williams, to name only a few. This book will provide hours of delight for lovers of traditional music, a subject which Merêd has done more than anyone to elucidate. Lastly, Catrin Stevens has written a useful book about the Welsh language, Stori’r Gymraeg (Gomer, £5.99). It should be in every school library and in the desks of all GCSE students who need a readable synopsis of the fortunes of Welsh over the centuries.

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POETRY HALLEY’S COMET which comes within 13 million miles of the earth every 75 to 76 years I’m told you were around, old fellow, in 1910. A suave and bearded king had died just three days earlier and Florence Nightingale’s nursing lamp of ninety years was dimming. Mark Twain died too, but Scott sailed for the South Pole, Hollywood made its first movie and Baden Powell founded the Girl Guides. While you, old fellow, among such seemly things, you blazed one mighty trail, bright progress through our skies for nights on end.

TRAVELLING WITH R.S. Cherry blossom on the roadside Between Crucywel and Talgarth Missed that spring, and the next, the next . . . Missed, for all I know, forever, Except that you broke your journey there To pick some sprays. But why that place, So far from home? And flowers that, surely, Long before the road was done, Would wither and fall? Perhaps it was A stop you never made, on a road You never took, a journey like a map Of all the green, lost lands, its frame Golden with sun and honey, heavy With swags of bright, bright flowers, A garland for the whole of Wales.

Next visit, well. A hard winter, ’85 to ’86. Deep frosts and bitter ice, in a land of riot and resentment. Clashes at Wapping, pickets and police, the miners beaten now. Whole townships cold and miserable, and leaders who really didn’t care. And when you came, old lad, you could barely be seen through the drifts of cloud. But there were close-up pictures from the spacecraft, and you were back, dear harbinger (your orange core, your long blue tail), and you could presage things like hope and spring. Survival even. And that’s how life went on for most of us. Next time you’re round, I’ll surely miss the trip. But thanks for coming through in ’86. ROBERT NISBET

GRAHAM THOMAS

BARDDONIAETH

The publishers are most grateful to the trustees of the HARRI WEBB FUND who have generously sponsored this page. A fee will be paid for every poem published. Poems for consideration should be sent to: DR MEIC STEPHENS, 10 HEOL DON, WHITCHURCH, CARDIFF, CF14 2AU. Please send a stamped address envelope if you want your poems to be returned.

MEIC STEPHENS ALSO RECOMMENDS • Andrew Morton, Trees of the Celtic Saints (CARREG GWALCH, £7.50) £7.95) FWR,

• Gwyn Thomas, Drychiolaethau (BWTHYN, £7.95)

£7.99)

given)

• Gweneth Lilly, Gilbert and Gwenllian/bilingual (THE

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PRINCESS GWENLLIAN SOCIETY,

GWALCH,

£5.50)

no price

• Goronwy Jones, Y Dyn Dwad

• Herbert Hughes (gol.), Cymru Evan Jones (GOMER, £16.99)

Dyddiadur America (CARREG £8.95)

• Don Llewellyn, The Kissing Gate (DINE-

• Iwan Llwyd, Sonedau Pnawn Sul (CARREG GWALCH, £6.50)

(Y LOLFA, £6.95)

• Llwyd Owen, Mr.Blaidd (Y LOLFA,

• D.Densil Morgan,

• Geraint Jones, Epil Gwiberod yr Iwnion Jac (BWTHYN,

• Eirwyn George, Can yr Oerwynt (BARDDAS, £6)

• Caryl Lewis, Naw Mis (Y LOLFA, £8.95)

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T R E F TA D A E T H - H E R I TA G E

The Bardic Chair: The Bardic Chair: YYGadair Farddol Gadair Farddol

n the first ever book to be published on the subject, the leading furniture historians Richard Bebb and Sioned Williams trace the history of this important cultural artefact from medieval times down to the present. They deal expertly with the Eisteddfod’s role in awarding Chairs to poets over the centuries and provide fascinating details about the winners and the craftsmen who made them. The Chair has for long been a potent symbol of traditional Welsh culture and the mystique that surrounds it is something real and permanent. To have been a Chair winner sets the poet apart, whether he or she won it at a local or regional eisteddfod or on the stage of the National. The superb illustrations and bilingual text of this book demonstrate the Chair’s beauty and describe what is entailed in its construction. As the late Hywel Teifi Edwards says in a Foreword, ‘We have been given a book to treasure.’ MEIC STEPHENS THE BARDIC CHAIR: Y GADAIR FARDDOL,

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by Richard bebb & Sioned Williams is published by Saer Books, price £25.

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Opera Cappucino Girls Les Misérables NORMA LORD

appuccino Girls, the new musical by Mal Pope, opened in Treorchy’s Parc and Dare Theatre last November, and Cambria caught up with it in Swansea Grand Theatre shortly afterwards. The show has an unusually strong story-line concerning the lives of three thirty-something women whose own creative lives have been subsumed by husbands, children and domesticity, and who meet regularly for coffee and sisterly support. The appearance on the scene of a glamorous new barista, Eddie, initially only undermines the girls frustrations, but his philosophical response to them, and the news that Demi’s manipulative, insensitively macho, husband is planning to leave her for an office bimbo, eventually spurs them into rebellion. It soon transpires that the other two are not without their own significant personal problems either, and the main thrust of the plot is the manner in which each, with help and support from the others and words of wisdom from Eddie, overcomes adversity. It’s a great story that works on many different levels, and the production, having all the pzazz one wishes in a musical, manages never to trivialise the philosophical issues, in spite of very entertaining musical numbers. Mal Pope’s composition here is considerably more complex than it seemed in previous shows, and I only wish we could have had the music performed live. Demi, powerfully played by the evergreen Bonnie Tyler, escapes her misery by a piece of fairytale good fortune, while belting out her more upbeat numbers and moving us deeply with others - How did I get so small? in particular. The others work it out by gutsily addressing their demons, so all ends happily. Convincing performances from Helen Anker and Cathryn Davies as Connie and Hilary respectively, wring the emotions without a trace of sentimentality, and their assured singing is well integrated into their roles. Major honours though must go to Marcus Cunningham, who not only made the mysterious Eddie a well-fleshed character, in spite of having the task of introducing himself with the whimsical song I’m a Man who loves Coffee, but also serially portrayed all three husbands most successfully. The simple set, all in stark black and white, as were all David Emanuel’s costumes until the finale, worked well, and the burst of colour in the girls’ costumes as their lives turned around was masterly.

This was excellent music-theatre, providing colourful, tuneful and thought-provoking entertainment. It is much to be hoped that the show will be taken up Wales-wide and beyond.

he whole, six-week run of the 25th anniversary production of Les Misérables at Wales Millennium Centre was almost fully booked before the first performance, and most of Wales’ media heavies strolled up the red carpet on Press night. It was indeed a spectacular evening’s entertainment, given in well-honed and nigh-flawless style by a well-chosen cast, a third of which consisted of native Welsh members, with none of the well-drilled “puppetry” that sometimes overtakes such major shows after a lengthy run. The show is a triumph of technical theatre, demonstrating to advantage the facilities of WMC. The curtain rose on the first of a series of iconic scenes, in this case a skeletal ship, powered by rowing convicts under the tyranny of whip-wielding prison overseers, against a threateningly dark background. Later, all-new cyclorama projections were stunningly effective; allowing the audience to drown with Javert as the bridge from which he jumps flew upwards, pulling the water-image beneath it, and to walk through the sewer with Valjean when he searched for the wounded Marius. The blockade scenes were magnificently staged, with the cast appearing always in picture-perfect composition, as if in a moving series of Turneresque paintings. The sets and costumes were aesthetically conceived and convincingly executed, and the whole show rolled out seamlessly and at a great pace; no mean feat given the episodic nature of the piece. The inter-act projections of Victor Hugo’s own sketches were perhaps an authenticity too far, since I remain unconvinced that Hugo would have appreciated this red-top bowdlerisation of his magnificent novel. Carmarthenshire-born John Owen-Jones headed a host of very strong performances with a securely sung and heartily acted Jean Valjean, ably supported by Earl Carpenter as Javert, Madalena Alberto and Katie Hall as MICHAEL DE LA POER TRENCH

Ashley Artus: Thénardier and Lynne Wilmot: Mme Thénardier

‘Barricades’ MICHAEL DE LA POER TRENCH

the ladies in his life, and the winsome Marius of Gareth Gates. By far the most charismatic portrayals, however, came from the abominable Thenardiers, played to huge effect by Ashley Artus and Lynne Wilmot, whose malicious caperings repeatedly took the whole machine up at least two gears. We in Wales lack the opportunity to frequent stage musicals, and I confess to finding the degree of electronics on this occasion somewhat overwhelming, which made it difficult to assess the music of Claude-Michel Schoenberg’s

cambria talks

score. The quieter, more reflective numbers in the second half, A little Fall of Rain and Empty Chairs at empty Tables, moved me far more than the relentlessly pounded out, brass-based blockbusters for which the show is famous. As with some third-rate rock bands, it seemed that sheer volume was being used in a quite unnecessary attempt to manipulate our emotions. As Fantine, poor Madalena Alberto, a very able singer with a more than adequate voice, struggled manfully to ‘Dream her Dream’ over a wall of sound whose actual orchestration was annihilated by over-amplification. The remarkable degree of clarity of diction from the entire cast, allowing the audience to hear every syllable of text, may, however, have been the upside to this electronic supremacy. This was, admittedly, a huge bonus in a through-composed work whose storyline is necessarily somewhat fragmented. All in all a splendid evening of musical theatre, and well worth following as it tours elsewhere if you missed it in Cardiff.

to impresario Sir Cameron Mackintosh

ir Cameron Mackintosh is very excited about his new production of Les Misérables, due to open in December at Wales Millennium Centre, as part of the Centre’s fifth birthday celebrations and the 25th anniversary of the original show’s opening. WMC, and seemingly many musical fans are excited about it too, as the show’s five-week run was virtually sold out a month before it opened, breaking all long-term box office records at the venue. When I asked Mackintosh whether the box office success was the result of his famed talent in marketing shows, he modestly replied that there had been no marketing at all, and that “there is just something magical about ‘Les Miz’”, which markets itself. He is, however, convinced that the Cardiff show has one of the best casts he has worked with. Both John Owen Jones and Earl Carpenter are longstanding members of his “corps” of musical stars, and Gareth Gates, joining the team for the first time, will, he says, make a wonderful Marius Pontmercy. There are many Welsh names among the extensive cast-list of smaller and ensemble roles. Mackintosh is also at pains to stress that this production is brand new for WMC, in that it has been totally redesigned and re-dressed. The only problem, he says, is the relative lack of stage-time for rehearsal whilst WMC maintains its regular schedule of performances and rehearsals by other companies. Mackintosh productions are accustomed to exclusive use of the theatre (these days

often his own property) for some weeks prior to opening. Sir Cameron decided at the age of eight, when he was taken to see Salad Days, that he was destined to become a producer of musicals. Having worked his way up through the ranks of stage management, he achieved his ambition in 1967 at the age of twenty, with Anything Goes, albeit for only two weeks in the West End. Success followed during the next decade, with long runs for Trelawny and Godspell, and international acclaim with Side by Side by Sondheim. Many, if not most, other famously successful musicals from this time on were, and are Mackintosh productions, and Sir Cameron has collected numerous awards and honorary posts in the world of music and the arts in recognition of his achievements, and almost as many West End theatres. More recently he has become the first and only producer to approach musicals as opera companies do operas, taking text and music and starting afresh with design and direction, rather than slavishly copying an original production. His enthusiasm for this process made me regret that I had not visited some of his previous productions. He also waxed lyrical about the relatively new version of Les Misérables for schools, which is, he says, attracting much innovative interpretation. The financial struggles of WMC have been a recurring feature of the Welsh press ever since its inception. It is to be hoped that the spectacle of Les Misérables may kickstart a theatre-habit in at least a chunk of the population NORMA LORD of our country. Watch this space!

YMGYLCH - ENVIRONMENT

Restoring the Rivers of Sir Gâr DAVID R JONES

n 19 November 2009, Rural Affairs Minister for Wales, Elin Jones said: “I’m pleased to be able to announce a further £4 million worth of European Fisheries Funding to support a wide range of innovative projects. These projects will greatly benefit the Welsh fishing industry, and will also help us achieve the aims we have set out in the Welsh Fisheries Strategy, which has been designed to support the development of viable and sustainable fisheries in Wales while safeguarding the environment.” More specifically an award of £525,000 was made to the Carmarthenshire Rivers Trust (CRT), a charity formed in July 2007 and manned by volunteers, its primary objective and Mission Statement - “To restore the rivers and wetlands of Carmarthenshire to their former glory”. The award made to Carmarthenshire is the only one made specifically to an individual county and Trust. The funds will be used entirely for the rivers and will finance a wide range of corrective activities that the CRT proposes to undertake over the next three years. Carmarthenshire has some of the finest angling in Britain. The tourism that brings in has long been an important staple of the economy of the county, bringing revenue to hotels, B&Bs, restaurants, pubs and retail outlets. Of late, however, that angling resource has

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shown some signs of decline as indeed has been the case for most of the rivers of the UK which have runs of migratory fish (salmon and sea trout). Although Carmarthenshire has not had the acute reductions in numbers experienced by many other UK rivers, there is concern and a determination to not only do something to prevent further deterioration but to actively encourage re-growth and regeneration of the fish resource and encompassing environment. Carmarthenshire includes the catchments of the rivers Tywi, Cothi, Taf, Llwchwr (Loughor), Amman, Gwendraeths Fawr and Fach. These not only attract large numbers of local and visiting anglers but also include Special Areas of Conservation (SACs) and Special Sites of Scientific Interest (SSSIs). Also under the umbrella of the Tywi SAC are Allis shad, Twaite shad, sea lamprey, brook lamprey, river lamprey, bullhead and otter. The SSSI includes little ringed plover, sand martin, club tailed dragonfly, shingle invertebrate assemblages, Northern yellow cress, mudwort, breeding birds of lowland open waters and breeding birds of sand dunes and salt marshes. The “former glory of the river ecosystems of the county” has been eroded by a myriad of factors. Some of those factors, such as marine depredation and excessive netting of migratory fish out at sea are largely beyond local control except through membership and support for international lobbying organisations. Other major problems,

however, such as increased water acidity decimating invertebrate life (fish eat invertebrates); obstacles encountered by fish travelling upstream to their spawning territories, the collapse of riverine habitat, invasive weeds and pollution have greater immediacy and proximity. Action to remove or reduce these negative factors is more within the remit of local action and it is these latter threats that the CRT has targeted for its county-wide programme of activities. The overall aim of this three year project is to restore access to spawning areas, protect river habitat and improve water quality for migratory and resident fish in Carmarthenshire. Many tributaries of the rivers have become clogged with trees, debris and industrial remains over the decades. A programme of action has been drawn up for clearance of such obstacles, which will open up over 100km of waterway. Where this is not possible easements/small Fish passes will be constructed resulting in a significant increase in the numbers of migratory fish running up our rivers to spawn. In terms of the value of this to the local community, the EAW presently values each salmon at £8,000 and each sea trout at £2,500 per season. Many tributaries have become clogged with trees, debris and industrial remains

tence reducing food for migratory fish. The causes of the increased acidity are precipitation carried across from industrial neighbours and coniferous forestation. This is a CRT volunteers and EAW staff putting lime into a feeder stream major problem in two major tributaries of the Tywi - the Acidity, especially in the headwaDoeth誰e and the Pysgotwr. Liming ters, has increased significantly over of headwaters will reduce acidity the last few years. Higher acid conand restore invertebrate life and tent impacts on invertebrate exiswater quality suitable for migratory salmonids. Bank erosion by winter floods and farm animals also impinges on fish welfare in our rivers. Uncontrolled bank side treegrowth reduces light access to rivers further COMBATTING BANK EROSION: Nant Mynys. affecting fish Note drinking point and early re-growth inside fence life. The CRT has carried out an extensive programme of fencing, coppicing, revetment and general repair and maintenance to stock proof fencing. Also, water facilities, buffer strips and drinking bays will all

help in combatting erosion of the banks, e.g. at Nant Mynys - a Tywi tributary where banks were being severely eroded by farm animals. The CRT is blessed with a voluntary group of well qualified engineers and accountants who between them have long and practical experience of river habitat work and the management of donor grant funded projects. The Trust is continuing its close liaison with the Environment Agency Wales and the Countryside Council for Wales and is building links with the community which involves working with the Carmarthenshire County Council employment schemes, schools, scouts, disabled groups, fisheries associations, angling clubs, syndicates, riparian owners, farmers, national and local focus groups The improvements to environment and habitat also encourage a wider range of animals to thrive and be enjoyed by the local communities and tourists. In addition there is also, potentially, a clear impact on the regional economy. The enhanced fish stocks that will result from the Project will bring increased numbers of visiting anglers and their families to the area. The incremental local expenditure will result in the creation of new local jobs and the consolidation of existing ones. Such jobs will be in accommodation and allied businesses, fishery management and delivery. As mentioned previously the CRT is staffed by volunteers. If this article encourages you to support us on a voluntary basis, please make contact. gethynthomas@carmsriverstust.org davidjones@carmsriverstrust.org CRT, The Coach House, Pumsaint, Llanwrda, Sir Gaerfyrddin, SA19 8UW Telephone: 01558 650707

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C U LT U R A L H I S T O RY

From Bodnant to Berezovsky: Cultural Change on the Côte d’Azur JOHN AITCHISON

y the time Stephan Liégeard had coined the evocative phrase ‘Côte d’Azur’ in 1887, the French stretch of Mediterranean coastline, extending from Hyères in the west to Menton in the east, had already secured an iconic, international reputation for itself. From the latter part of the 18th century onwards the region had steadily attained acclaim, firstly as a place of peaceful resort for valetudinarians. The therapeutic qualities of its supposedly salubrious climate were extensively publicised, and consumptives in particular (‘les pulmonaires’) were advised to spend as much time as possible away from the ‘fog lands’ of the north. Not all of the earliest visitors to the coast were convalescent, however. More and more came simply because they had heard that it was an exceedingly pleasant environment in which to relax and enjoy life, especially during the winter period. For the higher orders of European society especially, a sojourn on the coast between the months of October and April became a highly fashionable fixture in the social calendar. It provided an opportunity for kindred (often titled) spirits to consort, and for those of wealth to engage in conspicuous, leisurely consumption. So enamoured were they of the locality that significant Mr and Mrs Cole Porter numbers elected to build villas for themselves and to stay on for the whole season; others would settle for lengthy periods in the numerous grand hotels (‘les palaces’) that had sprung up to cater for their every need. While the settlements of Nice, Cannes and Menton, and the hillsides around, attracted the majority of these winter migrants - ‘hivernants en villégiature’, it was the secluded

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promontories along the coast (Cap Ferrat, Cap St Martin, Cap d’Ail and Cap d’Antibes) that later became the most highly sought-after and exclusively expensive residential locations. Among the cosmopolitan colony of ‘hivernants’ at the turn of the 20th century were Charles and Laura McLaren (later to become the first Lord and Lady Aberconway), owners of the Bodnant Estate in North Wales. Laura’s father - Henry Davis Pochin - had purchased the property in 1874, and in his energetic retirement had set about developing the grounds, and laying out the main lineaments of its gardens and woodlands. On his death in 1895 responsibility for the upkeep and further enhancement of the estate fell to Laura and her husband, both of whom were keen gardeners and horticulturalists. During their early visits to the Côte d’Azur, one locality that particularly attracted the McLarens’ attention was the Cap d’Antibes. At the time this particular promontory, bounded on its northern edge by the settlements of Antibes and Juan-les-Pins, and conveniently close to the main urban centres of Nice and Cannes, had not been developed as much as others along the coast (e.g. Cap Ferrat). It did, however, have a substantial hotel on its southern point - the Grand Hôtel du Cap (now world renowned and named Hôtel du Cap - Eden Roc) that was rapidly developing a reputation for itself, attracting members of the British and Russian aristocracies, and sundry lesser nobles. The merely wealthy were also arriving in growing numbers. The Cap was clearly gaining in cachet. Perhaps a further attractive feature as far as the McLarens were concerned was the presence on the peninsula of Villa Thuret, with its highly-regarded botanical garden and its research into plant acclimatisation (first established by Gustave Thuret Priscilla Norman in 1857). Commercial horticulture was also a major feature of the local economy. As it happened, during a visit to the area in 1906 the McLarens became aware that a rocky 70 hectare tract of scrub and Provencal pine woodland, locat-

ed just to the east of the main hotel, was available for purchase. They The Hôtel du Cap were eager to establish a winter residence on the coast and the opportunity seemed too good to miss. Occupying a prime position overlooking the Mediterranean to the south, and with extensive views across the Baie des Anges and the lower Alps to the north, the development potential of the site was obvious. The London-based architects - Sir Ernest Georges and Alfred Yeates - were quickly invited to design a residence in an Italianate style; one that would be strategically positioned at the highest elevation on the domain, and act as a focal point around which a variety of garden areas could be structured. The McLarens were to call their new property - Château de la Garoupe (taking its name from the small bay nearby). Through their efforts, and especially those of their daughter Priscilla (who inherited the property in 1934) and her husband Sir Henry Norman, and then finally their son - Anthony, an ensemble of ‘unfailing grandeur’, in surroundings of ‘astonishing beauty’ was carefully fashioned. With its stunning axial stairway descending from the main house down to the shores of the

Mediterranean, its unique parterres and terraced garden, not to mention an immense array of trees, shrubs, succulents and flowering plants, the estate quickly gained widespread acclaim. Not without reason, a carved inscription over the entrance to the residence suggested to guests (in Dantesque fashion) that those who enter could expect to abandon all sorrow - ‘LASCIATE OGNI DOLORE - VOI CH’ENTRATE’. Following the fashion, the McLarens would base themselves at Château de la Garoupe during the winter months, and return to Bodnant to continue gardening there over the summer. During their absence, their villa was available for renting. By chance in 1921 the celebrated American lyricist and composer Cole Porter and his new ‘socialite’ wife - Linda Lee Thomas - decided to spend a belated honeymoon on the Riviera, even though it was ostensibly out of season with major hotels ‘mothballed’ (including the Grand Hôtel du Cap), entertainment venues closed and local services much reduced. In seeking a base for themselves in the area, and with money no object, the Porters were in a position to think ‘luxury’ and ‘style’ - Château de la Garoupe had both in abundance. So impressed were they with the residence, its gardens and its setting that they decided to return again the following year. Cole was later to recall : ‘we rented the Château de la Garoupe for two summers … and enjoyed every moment. But in those days we were considered crazy and it was before the days anyone went to the Riviera in the summer, as the weather was considered too hot’. For two summers the Porters regaled an array of guests, including Picasso and the cultivated American couple - Sara and Gerald Murphy. Although MENTON the Porters never returned, the MONTE CARLO Murphys were enraptured. So NICE much so that they decided to settle more permanently on the ANTIBES Cap, renovating an old property JUAN-LES-PINS and creating their celebrated villa - Villa America. Here, during the early 1920s they entertained graciously and copiously. Their many ‘modernist’ visitors included Picasso, Léger, Diaghilev, Hemingway, the Valentinos, Stravinsky, Gertrude Stein, Dorothy Parker, and perhaps most infamously of all (giving their often outlandish 0 Kilometres 25 behaviour) - Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. It was the exuberant

Monaco GRASSE CANNES

France

Esterel Massif des Maures

ST RAPHAËL

SAINT-TROPEZ CAVALAIRE TOULON

HYÈRES

Côte d’Azur

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and arty goings-on of this coterie of friends, and the heady ambiance, that Fitzgerald later drew Boris Berezovsky heavily upon in his novel ‘Tender is the Night’, published in 1934. Looking back, Gerald Murphy acknowledged the role played by the Porters (and by association the Château de la Garoupe) in transforming the image of the coast : ‘Cole always had great originality about finding new places and at that time no one ever went near the Riviera in summer. The English and the Germans ….. closed their villas as soon as it began to get warm. None of them ever went into the water, you see. When we went to visit Cole, it was hot, hot summer, but the air was dry, and it was cool in the evening, and the water was that wonderful jade-and-amethyst color’. Word soon spread; les années folles of the Jazz Age had begun. No longer was the Riviera just a place for the select and favoured few who ‘wintered’ on the coast; it was to become a summer playground for a much more diverse clientele. Although hardly the prime movers, by letting out their home and its gardens to Cole Porter, Lord and Lady Aberconway certainly helped to trigger what would turn out to be a long-term social transformation of the Côte d’Azur. Some 80 years later their estate was to figure prominently in yet another significant development. Following the death of her parents in the early 1930s, Priscilla Norman based herself more permanently at Cap d’Antibes, and together with her husband, continued to improve the grounds of the villa. She died in Antibes in 1964 (like her mother before her), and the property was then looked after by her son - Anthony. From the 1950s onwards small sections of the grounds, together with outbuildings on the estate, were redeveloped for family members, others were detached and sold off. In the end, however, it was perhaps inevitable that the core of the property itself - the main house and its gardens - would also change hands. Following the death of her husband in 1996, Lady Ann Norman, then in her eighties, decided to sell. In her words, the sale proved to be ‘complex’; it certainly turned out to be a cause of some controversy. Following the collapse of communism and the subsequent rise of the oligarchs, longstanding Russian interest in the Côte d’Azur was given a new lease of life. Money flowed into the area, and large secluded villas set in their

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own grounds could command premium prices. Not surprisingly, the Château de la Garoupe attracted covetous eyes; as did the neighbouring villa Du Clocher (once part of the main estate, but detached in 1985 and sold to Francis Bouygue - owner of the French TV channel TF1). Purchased through a series of interlinked companies with their head offices in Switzerland and Luxembourg, the actual owner was in fact Boris Berezovsky. Some doubt exists as to the actual cost of these properties, but the declared figures were 8.3 million euros for Château de la Garoupe and 13.7 million euros for Le Clocher - in the scheme of things, surprisingly modest sums. The French fiscal authorities expressed concerns about the whole transaction, and set about formally investigating the possibility of money-laundering. Berezovsky regarded the whole exercise as a politically-motivated ‘masquerade’, one deliberately launched by the French to placate the then President Vladimir Putin, who had more than one axe to grind as far as he (Berezovsky) was concerned. The whole affair was made even more complicated and controversial by the fact that another oligarch - Roman Abramovitch - was alleged to have had some arcane financial involvement in the deal. As if this were not enough, Abramovitch’s acquisition of the nearby Château Croë (once home to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor) was also being investigated. Finally, to add a further ‘Byzantine’ (or should it be ‘Slavic’) twist to the tale of Château de la Garoupe, a large parcel of land that was once part of the original estate has been purchased by yet another oligarch of vast wealth - the 37 year-old financier Andrei Melinchenko. Here he intends to construct a truly stupendous villa, with equally impressive landscaped gardens. What the first Lord and Lady Aberconway would have thought of these recent developments, it is impossible to say. Despite the demise of the estate, they would no doubt have taken some succour from the fact that Château de la Garoupe and its gardens have now been formally protected for posterity by French planning law as heritage sites of major historic significance. But then again, with the whole area now bristling with security and surveillance systems, they would possibly have deemed it appropriate that the inscription they so joyfully carved over the entrance to their residence should be removed, and possibly replaced with the line from the Inferno cantica in Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy : ‘Lasciate ogni speranza - voi ch’entrate’ (All hope abandon, ye who enter here). The original greeting would now be more felicitously placed over the gateway to the gardens at Bodnant. John Aitchison is Professor Emeritus at the University of Wales.

Art ARTHUR GIARDELLI

Looking into the setting sun MEIC STEPHENS

rthur Giardelli was steeped in the work of the European avant-garde and brought to his adopted Wales, where he settled in 1947, a passionate belief that art transcends national boundaries, however firmly rooted it may be in the local and particular. He did more than any other artist to promote the work of his contemporaries, among whom were David Jones, Josef Herman and Ceri Richards, largely in his capacity as Chairman of the influential ’56 Group which transformed the public perception of art in Wales with its many exhibitions and tireless lobbying of such bodies as the Arts

ARTHUR GIARDELLI

TIME PIECES

Council and the National Museum. His own work, to which he was utterly devoted during a long career as a maker, consisted mainly of relief constructions, abstract in form and fashioned from a variety of materials, both man-made and natural, such as slate, brassware, cork, wood, glass, timepieces, string, sacking, shells and paper from old books. These ‘found objects’ were arranged and embellished so as to evoke the passing of the seasons, the wind’s ARTHUR GIARDELLI - UNTITLED energy and the movements of the tide. They bring to to do with time, space and the mysmind the Dadaists and the collages tery of human life. The film made of Kurt Schwitters, and belong to a about him by BBC Wales in 1966 tradition that flowered in the 1950s was aptly entitled See What the Next with the arte povera movement in Tide Brings. Spain and Italy. Although closely identified with Like Antoni Tàpies in Barcelona art in Wales, Giardelli was born in and Alberto Burri in Italy, both Stockwell, London, in 1911, and younger than he, Giardelli found brought up in Surrey, the son of an his inspiration in what he could English mother and a father who pick up on the beach or in secondwas of Italian extraction, both of hand whom were schoolteachers. His shops. The grandfather had fought with result is Garibaldi for the liberation of Italy often before emigrating to Britain; his breathtakfather, mocked at school on ing in its account of his surname, had chosen formal eleto become ‘more English than the gance, English’ and detested all thought of revealing Italy, much to his son’s chagrin. not only At Hertford College, Oxford, the innate Giardelli took a degree in Modern beauty of Languages and, at the Ruskin flotsam School of Art, where he received his and jetsam only training, wrote a paper on but also a Botticelli’s illustrations for The metaphysiDivine Comedy with the help of a cal delight book lent him by Kenneth Clark. in discardHis love of Dante,Villon, Racine ed objects and Ronsard made him (despite his which has dyslexia) the most literary of

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ARTHUR GIARDELLI

JETSAM

painters and, macaronic in his conversation, he never tired of quoting such lines as Phèdre’s ‘C’est Vénus tout entière à sa proie attachée’ or Francesca’s description of how she and Paolo had come to commit adultery: ‘E caddi come corpo morto cade’. ARTHUR GIARDELLI

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HABITATIONS

The cosmopolitanminded Giardelli had first discovered Wales in 1928 when his parents leased a cottage at Amroth in Pembrokeshire. The beaches, estuaries, coves, rock-pools and seascapes of the Dyfed coast held a deep fascination for the young man, preparing his mind for that subtly poetic observation of the natural scene which was to surface years later in his paintings and collages. But it was in Merthyr Tydfil, confronted by a very different, industrially ravaged though visually exciting landscape, that he decided to commit himself fully to his art. ‘When the train finally pulled into Merthyr,’ he once told me, ‘I felt I’d come home.’ The Harvey Grammar School at Folkestone, where Giardelli taught French and English, had been evacuated to Merthyr in 1940. In the same year he registered as a conscientious objector to military service and lost his job as a consequence. He had been a

convinced pacifist ever since hearing Gandhi speak in Oxford some years before. This crisis in his personal affairs was to be the making of him as an artist. Befriended by Quakers, he and his wife and their two small children were given accommodation at Trewern House, the Friends’ Settlement in Dowlais, and work was found for them as lecturers and musicians - she played the piano well and he the viola. Shortly afterwards Giardelli took up a post as music teacher at Cyfarthfa Castle, one of the town’s Grammar Schools. Even more importantly, it was in Dowlais, the old iron township high on the hill above Merthyr, that he made the acquaintance of Sir Cedric Morris and Heinz Koppel, both of whom encouraged him to concentrate on his painting. After the war the Giardellis moved to Pendine in Carmarthenshire, where Arthur began a long and fruitful association as a lecturer with the WEA and tutor in the Department of Extra Mural Studies at the University College of Wales, Aberystwyth. Never neglecting his own work as a painter, he now threw himself into the politics of the art scene in Wales, displaying an altruism rare among practising artists. He was one of the founders of the ’56 Group and was elected its Chairman in 1959, a position he held until 1998, after which he was made Life President. From 1965 to 1975 he served on the Art Committee of the Welsh Arts Council and became a leading member of the Contemporary Art Society for Wales. Lecturing took him on extended tours of the Netherlands, Egypt, Russia, China, the United States and Nepal, and between 1977 and 1980 he served as a member of the Calouste Gulbenkian inquiry into the economic situation of visual artists in

WWW.ARTWALES.COM the UK. It was in Holland that he first saw the work of Mondrian and, on his return to Pendine in 1955, had begun making abstract collages from found materials. For his work on behalf of the arts in Wales Giardelli was awarded an MBE in 1973 and made an Honorary Fellow of University College, Aberystwyth, six years later. In 1986 he was awarded the Silver Medal of the Czechoslovak Society for International Relations. His work was bought by the Tate Gallery, the National Museum of Wales and private collectors on both sides of the Atlantic. Among his most supportive patrons was the collector Eric Estorick of the Grosvenor Gallery in Dover Street, London, who in 1965 gave him a one-man exhibition and promptly bought everything in it, followed by another at his new premises in South Molton Street in 1987. A final accolade was the publication of a lavishly illustrated book containing the text of Giardelli’s conversations with the art-critic Derek Shiel, which served as a precursor to a retrospective exhibition of his work at Penarth’s Washington Gallery in the summer of 2002. Arthur Giardelli was an accomplished conversationalist and also a good listener. A religious man, he was generally eirenic in his attitude to other artists but could deliver some caustic opinions about public bodies in Wales when he thought their policies were not generous or effective enough. What he lacked in inches, he made up in intelligence, enthusiasm, energy, wide knowledge, modesty and a delicious sense of humour. He had a great gift for hospitality and friendship, liking nothing better in his latter years than to receive visitors, whether old acquaintances or casual callers, at his home, The Golden Plover, near Warren in Pembrokeshire, a former schoolhouse which he and his second wife, whom he called Bim, had made into a studio and exhibition space for their collection of modern art. The house is set in a district which will for long be closely associated with his art. ‘We in Pembrokeshire,’ he told Tony Curtis in Welsh Painters Talking (1997), ‘look into the setting sun. And when you look into the setting sun across the sea you are looking into a magic and a mystery - your eyes are dazzled by it . . . we watch the sea swallow that ball of fire, the sun.’ It was Arthur Giardelli’s achievement to have revealed for us something of that magic, that mystery, and to have allowed us a glimpse of the complexity of his own inner landscape. PHOTOGRAPHY BY GRAHAM MATTHEWS

‘The School Rush’ oil on canvas 2009 54 x 65cm

CLAUDIA WILLIAMS 11 February - 6 March 2010

‘Crocus Bowl and Eggs’ mixed media 2009 41 x 45cm

VIVIENNE WILLIAMS 9 - 23 March 2010

‘We Need More Height’ oil on panel 2010 50 x 42cm

SALLY MOORE 9 - 23 March 2010

MARTIN TINNEY GALLERY 18 ST. ANDREW’S CRESCENT CARDIFF CF10 3DD

Tel: 029 20641411 mtg@artwales.com Open Mon - Fri, 10 - 6, Sat 10 - 5

The Potacre neighbours of Margiad Evans JIM PRATT

he Herefordshire writer, Margiad Evans (1909 1958), my aunt, spent most of the war years living in an isolated semi-detached farm-workers cottage, Potacre, in Llangarron near Ross-on Wye. Here, she wrote some of her best work, notably Autobiography, and the short stories The Old and the Young. Margiad also wrote journals, poems and at least fifty letters to her younger brother Roger, then an infantry officer captured at Dunkirk in 1940 and destined to serve the rest of the war in German prisoner-ofwar camps.

PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF SIAN EVANS

Margiad Evans, Ross-on-Wye 1938

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She wrote to keep him in touch with his family, to remind him of the countryside where he had grown up a decade earlier and to provide him with diversion and entertainment, much of which she derived from observing her fellow human beings. Her neighbours in the adjoining cottage were William and Ellen Saunders. ‘The old man next door gave me a cabbage rose - you know the true old pink rose, so soft and big and limp that smells so sweet and strongly it seems to give itself to you. The old man next door has a wooden leg - first thing in the morning I hear him stump downstairs and often stump stump up to our door bringing greens and vegetables. He is a gardener and has such a neat plot himself with flowers growing in a line and rows of cabbages and a single file of raspberries against the hedge. You’d think a practical old man, with his blue eyes, a regular vegetable fellow but he planted primroses from the valley outside his gate: the first and loveliest things I saw when I came, and they have only just done blooming. Peg-leg has a wife who lives in a fur hat and silver broach, and a cat called Tom Tucker with a weeping eye black as a spell. In the evenings they are all out in the garden together until dark, Peg-leg pottering, his missus scolding gently, and a few odd socks waving on the clothes line high in the windy dusk. He lent me a spade but I never dug which made him laugh at me and call out “how about that digging Mrs Williams? Going to do a bit tonight?” but I never did - I’ve only planted so at last Peg-leg took the spade and gave me a rake instead. Once when I was going along a lane I looked into a beautiful trim garden and there softly and slowly

“there softly and slowly gardening was the old man with his coat off and his wooden leg fastened to him by a great black leather band.”

gardening was the old man with his coat off and his wooden leg fastened to him by a great black leather band. He had made the green lawn and the flowered walls - the owners only looked at them and retired - it must be funny to have a garden you never touch and a house you never tidy.’

The growing of vegetables during the war was essential, and Mr Saunders’ contribution to her diet was welcomed. As was his advice. Margiad had always had a dog, usually a spaniel: ‘James puppy has had two beatings from me today; one for sitting in the armchair and one for running over the seeds. My precious carrots my lovely parsnips how he scattered the rows! Peg-leg said “oh dear you was drunk when you put them in missus.” He’s making a hen coup and Mrs Peg-leg is raising chickens in the front porch. They are the best of neighbours.’

But there were threats to his orderly existence: ‘Last Sunday when we were lolling in the sun …- the bees from

PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF MRS SARAH DWANE

“There now” he screamed “there’s half without a home.” All evening Peg-leg lamented the homeless ones as she fetched the swarm finally before dark when the bees were still buzzing furiously about the hedge and our path. “ Cruel it were”, he said “but they’d find their way back.’

Peggy Whistler (Margiad Evans) Probably late 1930s

over the hill swarmed in our neighbour Peg-leg’s woodpile. What a to do he was in. “She” was coming to fetch them, he must get ready. Up and down he stumped seething with business “dressing the hive” with cider to tempt them and hazel boughs. It was a real old fashioned skep, a thing like a nest upside down made of woven straw and then “she” came and began to dress in hat and veil, breeches, stockings and gloves. As for the bees they seemed to drip from the mass like treacle - a huge sticky lump wedged among the faggots and grass, making a whining hum. That corner of the field quickened with them. Everybody rushed to watch the heroic woman and all backed as she went forward and Peg-leg danced and rocked on his stump and threw advice about but said he weren’t going near ‘em - he’d had it once but go on missus. And she wasn’t happy as she’d had four stings already and there were thousands ready. I was wrapped in a rug and N had the dogs by the collar ready to fly. At last after much gingerly chopping at the wood she lifted the bundle bodily and tipped the swarm into the hive - or half of it. The other half, without the queen promptly took to the air and us to our heels. Do you think Peg-leg cheered the brave effort? Not he!

Tolerant perhaps of bees, Mr Saunders had very different feelings for others of God’s creatures: ‘What he can’t abide is “they moles”. Moles and rats. He has a shed full of mole and rat traps and rabbit wires and holds interminable arguments with his missus about where that un went. Getting nearly frantic he’ll almost wail “look ower there yonder! He’s a-heaving now! Look, can’t you see him a-heaving”?! Last year when Nancy was here we hardly dared to put our noses round the door because the moles were always heaving. Incessantly Peg-leg pegged round with traps, and first in the morning and last at night we’d hear him crying out and seething, pointing “look! a-heaving!” Lawdy Lawdy how we used to fly! But alas he’s right and the gardens are practically undermined.’

Mr Saunders was clearly a resourceful man and a helpful neighbour: ‘… my neighbour Peg-leg’s wife took to her bed with a few symptoms which included giddiness, bellyache, earache, insomnia and a cough. There she has been for a week and how her poor system has survived I cannot tell you for she would groan one moment and sit up and eat two new buns the next. However, I made some puddings for Peg-leg and the lodger and he cooked Swedes and potatoes every day, cleaned the grate and tidied the

rooms.’ ‘ Peg-leg and Nelly are very English. She is 65, goes to church, has been at everyone’s beck and call ever since she was born. Peg-leg is more complicated. He has a naughty blue eye. In the evenings we’re both gardening and Peg-leg will come to the hedge and look over. “Good good Mrs Williams, everything in rotation” he says. ..”the gi-arden’s fine, you be doing fine. You want to be planting year marrers though. Well I think I be goin’ to bed. I mounded up ten rows of potatoes tonight.” Then he’ll thump up the path, spit, and we’ll hear his wooden leg going up the stairs just before dusk.’

Haymaking was a community activity, for which Mr Saunders’ prosthetic leg was no hindrance. The cottage is surrounded on three sides by a field which, in the summer of 1942 was a hayfield: ‘ My darling - just a short torn one to tell you I have thought of you all day when I have been gardening, when cooking, when watching the haymakers. I played the gramophone at the open window for them to enjoy, if they could hear it above the tractor and the crackle crackle rumble of their elevator. I sang too. They came early to the field. There were no horses and I was glad for it’s terrifically hot work for them working in the sunlight all day. The machinery and wagons were such beautiful colours that I longed to stop working and paint them. Sky blue and scarlet, soft faded blue, buff and crimson, the dark green trees behind the rick, the burnt, sun coloured clover, the men with their mahogany arms and white rolled-up shirts. And the constant soft swishing, the rustling, the moving, swirling, tossing, the eddying scent that poured through the windows and doors and filled the

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THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

garden so that I couldn’t smell the flowers. My neighbour made them tea in the field and every time the wagons bumped past the hedge, rumbling emptily or towering high, the men would laugh and sing out to me sweating away with hoe and rake in the garden. There was Pegleg in great danger of sinking into the rick as he gyrated.’

That farm work could be dangerous for a one-legged man became clear two years later: ‘Our neighbour Peg-leg met with a very serious calamity a fortnight ago. He was threshing, tripped and was hit in the chest by what’s called the bailer. It broke five ribs. Peg-leg has been in bed ever since & will be more or less inactive for three months which means his garden will have to be done for him. … He’s a funny old man. I love him. He will plant marrows among his beans & broad beans in the black currants, & trains the peas to climb the cabbages etc etc. Acrobatic gardening I call it. Sometimes he’s successful. In his bedroom, hung around his bed are many small innocent pictures such as might be in a nursery. Pictures of angels, and puppies, kittens and knights in armour - all with a rather pathetic charm because they are the kind of illustration the homeless would love. Peg-leg had no home until he was married & he wasn’t married until he was forty odd. He lived in a shed, & ‘did’ for himself. Now he has ‘Ellen’ - Mrs Noah to the life! And is respectable & no

longer the beloved ne’er do well he was - though still beloved behaving.’

of Emily Brontë. However, out of the blue she became epileptic: a condition she described in Ray of Darkness (1952), caused by an inoperable brain tumour. She died on her 49th birthday in March 1958. Her brother was released from prison camp in 1945. These fifty letters from his sister were the only survivors of more than 500 letters he received during his five years of captivity

It was clear to me, and has since been confirmed by Margiad’s sister that ‘Peg-leg’ Saunders was the basis for the character of Thomas Griffiths in her short story Thomas Griffiths and Parson Cope in which Thomas Griffiths, the vicar’s gardener, lived alone in a cottage whose “..back kitchen smelled like a burrow. In a corner on the copper lay a heap of mole traps. Onions and One of the most remarkable gardens in the country snares hung from the beam.” Like Potacre, it was a house of few amenities “Thomas went out into the garden and washed his face with a cabbage GRAHAM RANKIN leaf..” In 1947, Aberglasney Gardens contains a collection of Margiad and rare and unusual plants within a stunningly her husband beautiful historical setting moved to a cottage with Excellent Shop, Plant Sales and Café even less Open all year amenities in the Llangathen, Carmarthenshire SA32 8QH Cotswolds, Tel: 01558 668998 where she www.aberglasney.org.uk planned to 4 miles west of Llandeilo, 12 miles east of Carmarthen write a study

Aberglasney Gardens

• Domestic & Commercial Lawn and Grounds Care Equipment. • Walk-behind mowers, ride-ons, lawn, garden and compact & highway tractors. • Main dealers in South Wales for Jacuzzi hot tubs and hydrotherapy spas. Oaklands Mansion, Cwmffrwd, Carmarthen, SA31 2ND TEL:

01267 235625

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01267 222162

www.powercut.co.uk

Chris Kinsey

Nature Diary

Cudyll ~ Kestrel

ew Year’s Day 2010 - frost-fires sparkle and Woody, my greyhound, knows it won’t take many meaningful looks roving from dog-coat to doorknob, to get me out again. We walk along the Severn greeted by the smiles of icicles under the northfacing blackthorns. Xylophones dangle from willow twigs, played by rapids and splashes. I hope, as ever, for a kingfisher to be my spurt of antifreeze so I peer into the tangle of a tree that November rains washed out and relocated a little further round the bend. Today though there’s no turquoise dart, or sharp shree cry, only mergansers coming in two-by-two and a startled moorhen walking the plank. Then, suddenly, a grey heron ghosts upstream and elegantly folds itself between trunk and branch. Snowy hills shoulder in, especially under moonlight. By the sound of the owl cries things are tough. The outsized robins and cartoon bomb-like blackbirds around our feet confirm this. All their energy is devoted to foraging, fossicking mosses and dead leaves; they’re reluctant to waste precious energy in evasions. Over the holiday period I’ve been astonished by the number of kestrels perched along the A489. Juveniles and speckled females marked a dot-to-dot of surprisingly close together territories as they watched for prey from the tops of roadside trees. None were expending energy by playing the windhover or kiting. Perhaps it was too windless. They need a slight headwind and many rapid

wing beats to hang in the air. The Welsh names for these birds are Cudyll y gwynt or Cudyll coch. All the kestrels looked sharpened by hunger though one flew up with a limp rodent in her talons. Those yellow eyes are capable of the most precise vision. They can spot a beetle from 50 metres. They see into the ultra-violet spectrum too, and track voles by the trails of urine they leave in grass. Urine reflects UV light. Kestrels need a minimum of two voles per day to survive and probably six or more to thrive, but they’re versatile feeders. A few weeks ago I was gazing at my hedge which is alive with sparrows squabbling over fat-balls, when time

CHRIS KINSEY

stalled. A grey-headed male kestrel plunged, sulphur feet first, strode air as used his black-banded tail fan to brake. Then he retracted his legs, folded his scimitar wings and posted himself through a tiny gap. Time resumed, but the hedge was silenced. I can’t recall seeing a kestrel as a child, but the field behind our house in Herefordshire was filled with strutting peewits or lapwings in winter. At CHRIS KINSEY first glance they’re black and white, but when the light strikes them right they have a green-purple iridescent sheen. Sadly, their population has declined by 80% in the last forty years. I was delighted to see half a dozen probing with a few curlews on reclaimed pasture near Ynyslas, then, as we drove east, I was caught by their flutter. A modest flock flashed to and fro in front of Craig-y-Penrhyn, tumbling and soaring, alternating white then black flapping wings. Their name may have derived from the old English word, “hleapwince”, which has been translated as ‘leap with a flicker or wink in it’.

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THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

MOTORING porting stone from the local limestone quarry but in 1953 JOHN A EDWARDS Tom decided to diversify and elsh Motoring Writers attended the (WMW) has honoured Earls Court Gravells Motor Group Motor Show with the award of the Tom Pryce with the aim Memorial Trophy for its special Welsh Motoring Writers Chairman Huw Thomas presents the Tom Pryce Trophy of acquiring relationship with the people of Welsh Royal Crystal vase to Gravells Motor Group. Pictured (from left) is Huw a new car Wales. Thomas and David, Jonathan and Ian Gravell. The vase inscription reads: ‘Cyfraniad franchise. In a ceremony held at Y Senedd, Hynod i’r Gymru Gyfoes’ (An outstanding contribution to contemporary Wales). Renault was Cardiff hosted by Assembly the only one Members Helen Mary Jones and available and in view of the ultiRhodri Glyn Thomas, WMW ate a bilingual language policy and mate demise of many British manuChairman Huw Thomas presented their slogan ‘yma o hyd’ (here to facturers this must be considered the Welsh Royal Crystal vase to stay) neatly sums up the company’s pure serendipity. Gravells became Gravells Chairman David Gravell philosophy. Renault dealers on St David’s Day and said: “Gravells has made an In 1968 Tom visited Patagonia 1954 which was undoubtedly a enormous contribution to the culand fell in love with the country good omen. tural, sporting and public life of and its people and now each year In 1968, his son David took over Wales which goes way beyond any Gravells sponsor a student from Y the day-to-day running of the comusual sponsorship activity.” Wladfa to study the Welsh language pany and the haulage business was Gravells has been a franchised at Llandovery College. They also wound down in 1973. Tom died in Renault dealership for 55 years have a 5-year partnership with Yr 2004 at the age of 91. making it the longest-serving in the Urdd and strong sponsorship links Kia has now been added to the UK and currently top of Renault’s with Llanelli Scarlets rugby club. Renault franchise with dealerships sales charts in Wales. With Cydweli the ancestral home at Kidwelly, Narberth and Tom Gravell founded the compaof the Gravells, there surely must be Fforestfach, Swansea. David’s son ny in 1932 as a haulage contractor a link between the family’s French Jonathan is now the company’s with just one lorry which cost £15. name and Normandy which can General Manager based at Kidwelly The business expanded by transprobably be traced back to the turwhile son bulent history of the area in the Gravells started out in the thirties as a transport business. Seen here is a Chevrolet Ian is the Middle Ages. truck being used for a Sunday school outing - an early example of the company’s Manager at Gravells long-lasting association community spirit. Tom Gravell is standing on the running board. Narberth. with the highly successful French The sucRenault company seems happily to cess of the complete the picture. company is founded on The Tom Pryce Memorial Trophy the strength (Gwobr Goffa Tom Pryce) is awarded of an ongoannually by Welsh Motoring Writers to ing family a Welsh man, woman or company for commitexcellence in the realms of motoring. ment and a Tom Pryce, Wales’s greatest racing love of driver, tragically lost his life in the Wales. 1977 South African Grand Prix before They operhe could fulfil his rich promise.

Gravells honoured

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Renault a motoring pioneer

t the turn of the twentieth century, Renault was one of the world’s pioneer motor manufacturers and at one time could even be classed as ‘British’. UK sales started at Edinburgh in 1901 (an example of the old Franco-Scottish alliance?) followed a year later by London. ‘Société Renault Frères’ was founded in 1899 at Billancourt, Paris by Louis Renault and his brothers Marcel and Fernand. At this time road races were very popular, and Louis and Marcel both drove separate Renault cars in the disastrous 1903 Paris-Madrid race which attracted over 3 million spectators but - including competitors and spectators - cost no fewer than ten lives. Marcel was one of the victims when he crashed overtaking another car and failed to see a bend due to the clouds of dust being thrown up – then an inherent hazard of motoring on unmade roads. The carnage led to the French government stopping the race at Bordeaux and insisting that the cars be returned to Paris by rail the ultimate indignity for the latest form of transport. These city-to-city races were subsequently completely banned in France but they had given Renault invaluable publicity and helped establish the company. By 1914 most of the taxis in Paris were Renaults and this led to the legendary event of WW1 when a fleet of 600 taxis were commandeered to relay 6,000 troop reinforcements to the battle of the Marne which saved the city from falling into German hands. Renault taxis were also very popular in London and New York, and in 1912 when the Titanic sank, the only car on board was a Renault being delivered to a wealthy American customer. In the blockbuster ‘factional’ film ‘Titanic’ this was the car in

which Kate Winslet and Leonardo di Caprio had their romantic dalliance. Between 1945 and 1961 Renault 750 4CV and Dauphine models were assembled at Acton in west London which classed them as ‘British’ so avoiding the ban then in force on car imports. In more recent times Renault has been a trend-setter, pioneering the hatchback concept in the sixties with the R4 and R16 and leading the field in the seventies with the R5 supermini, in the eighties with the Espace MPV and in the nineties with the smaller Scenic MPV. In the face of the challenge of global warming, Renault has now become a leader in the development of the electric car. In alliance with partner Nissan, lithium-ion batteries are being manufactured and will first be used to power the Renault Fluence ZE (Zero Emission) car and Kangoo ZE van both of which go on sale next year. In the meantime advanced new technologies will be applied to current engines and powertrains to reduce fuel consumption and CO2 emissions. Models with these features will carry the ECO_ label. It is hard to imagine what the company founder Louis Renault and indeed Tom Gravell who opened his Renault dealership in Wales back in 1954 would make of all these mindblowing technological advances. But without them the future of the car could well be in jeopardy.

Return of Gordini

orn in Italy but settled in France, Amédée Gordini was known as ‘Le Sorcier’ (the sorcerer) for his

ability to build lightweight racing cars powered by highly tuned production-car engines. His skill in creating models which ‘punched above their weight’ brought him fame and success in many forms of racing including Formula 1. But he never achieved financial stability and in 1957 gave up building his own cars to join Renault where he designed sporting versions of their production cars very much like John Cooper did in Britain with BMC to create the Mini Cooper. Most famous of these sporty Renaults was the 8 Gordini saloon built in the sixties to compete in international rallies. Painted in French racing blue with two offset white stripes running the length of the car, it was also popular as a sporty road car. In keeping with this tradition, a similar livery has now been revived for the new Twingo Gordini Renaultsport (pictured above). This ‘pocket rocket’ is powered by a 1.6-litre 133bhp engine with special exhaust system tuned to give a sporty note and also features 17-inch alloy wheels, sports suspension and upgraded interior trim with blue as the main colour theme. Prices will be announced when sales begin in March.

THE CAMBRIA DIRECTORY H O T E L

THE 4GROVE NARBERTH

Restaurant with rooms and cottages

A charming 18th century country house, with four luxury cottages in the grounds.

Grove hotel Narberth

& R E S T

PEMBROKESHIRE

The Grove Restaurant serves modern country food using locally sourced food wherever possible.

The Grove, Molleston, Narberth, Pembrokeshire, SA67 8BX TEL:

+44 (0)1834 860 915 +44 (0)7881 673 592 EMAIL: info@thegrove-narberth.co.uk

www.thegrove-narberth.co.uk

A U R A N

Alistair Sawday’s Special Places to Stay Rick Steves Guide to Britain I-Escape, Fodor’s Visit Wales 4 Star TripAdvisor 94% • 4.5 Stars

Welsh Rarebits Wales in Style Penderyn Restaurant Award Good Food Guide 2008 Good Hotel Guide

boutique rooms • restaurant • gallery

T S N A

“Lovely place, lovely people. Splendid food, beautifully presented. *UHDW IXUQLWXUH DQG À[WXUHV 6XFK D WUHDVXUH DQG D JUHDW GLIIHUHQFH IURP WKH RUGLQDU\ KRWHO 7KRURXJKO\ UHFRPPHQGHG µ

T I O

www.manorhaus.com • 01824 704830

manorhaus, Well Street, Ruthin, Denbighshire, LL15 1AH

N W I D

Falcondale Mansion Hotel Relax : Indulge : Refresh

SIR GAERFYRDDIN THE ANGEL, Salem, Llandeilo,Tel (01558) 823394 Former Welsh Chef of the Year Rod Peterson has built up a well deserved reputation for top quality produce and cooking at this highly acclaimed restaurant cum pub which features in The Good Food Guide. Swansea bay mussels with Thai green curry sauce, roast saddle of venison served with prune boudin, all done to perfection. Breads and ice creams are also freshly made on site. Two AA rosettes. From £20. From £22

FAIRYHILL BAR AND BRASSERIE @ MACHYNYS, Machynys Peninsula, Llanelli, Carmarthenshire. Tel: (01554) 744994 (for Brasserie bookings) Looking onto the Loughor Estuary and the Gower, the ethos is consistent with that of Fairyhill at Reynoldston and the ambience is assisted by contemporary wood and slate. The Bar offers hot griddled paninis, and local pork sausages, mash & onion gravy, while the Brasserie serves dishes like real prawn cocktail & spicy sauce, and Machynys fishcakes, warm tartare sauce and steamed greens. Starters from £3.25, Main courses from £10.00.

Y FFIGYSBREN - THE FIG TREE, Dryslwyn Fawr, Llanarthne, Tel (01558) 668187. Converted from a threshing barn this stunning contemporary restaurant is Routier Listed with menus which include delicious slow roasted lamb shank in a port and black cherry sauce and pan fried chicken supreme with chorizo and sunblushed tomatoes. Wonderful home made puddings and ice creams also feature on the Sunday lunch set menu - £16.95. Accommodation available in 51cottages from £60.00 per day .

CEREDIGION THE FALCONDALE MANSION HOTEL, Llanbedr-pont-steffan / Lampeter, West Wales. Tel (01570) 422910. This Victorian mansion is situated at the head of a forested valley, overlooking the university and market town of Llanbedr-pontsteffan/Lampeter, in fourteen acres of parkland with a ten-acre lake. Signature dishes on the Brasserie menu include Pantysgawn goats’ cheese croute, braised lamb ‘Henrietta’ with a honey and mustard sauce, and banana fritters in cinnamon sugar as a dessert. From £18

GWYNEDD BODYSGALLEN HALL, Llandudno, Tel (01492) 584466 www.bodysgallen.com A magnificent seventeenth century country house surrounded by wonderful gardens, with traditional country house style cooking. Sample the baked Welsh goat’s cheese soufflé, baked turbot with noodles and a Provençale dressing and chocolate fondant to finish. From £22

PLAS BODEGROES, Pwllheli, Tel (01758) 612363 www.bodegroes.co.uk

Lampeter, Ceredigion 01570 422910 www.falcondalehotel.com info@falcondalehotel.com

Crug-Glas Country House 22222 Situated near St Davids, 1 mile inland from the coast, offering accommodation of the highest standard, rooms with copper baths to double spa baths and four poster beds. In the dining room we offer outstanding food using the finest local produce. ABEREIDDY, SOLVA, HAVERFORDWEST, PEMBROKESHIRE, SA62 6XX TEL: 01348 831302 EMAIL: janet@crugglas.plus.com

www.crug-glas.co.uk

Elegant, romantic and unpretentious. A very pretty Georgian house set in beautiful grounds with something for every season. A classic menu with style: seared breast of pigeon on bubble and squeak, smoked chicken and celeriac soup, kebab of mountain lamb on a bed of cous cous, apricot and ginger parfait. Michelin Star Sunday lunch £17.50 Appetiser and three courses £40

MORGANNWG FAIRYHILL, Reynoldston, Gower, Nr Swansea, Tel (01792) 390139 www.fairyhill.net This charming hotel has ample grounds to explore, including woodland and a trout stream. A wide variety of choices on the menu include chicken and laverbread sausage, Welsh Black fillet of beef with a crispy won ton and chilli sauce, followed by seasonal poached pears in red wine. From £18.95

CASNEWYDD / NEWPORT THE CHANDLERY RESTAURANT, Newport, NP20 EHTel (01633) 256622 www.thechandleryrestaurant.com Beautifully restored Grade 2 listed building – a relaxing place to dine. Former National Chef of Wales, Simon Newcombe and wife Jane have achieved accolades in all major food guides, including 2AA rosettes and a Michelin Bib Gourmand. Seasonal à la carte and business lunch menus updated regularly on website. Enjoy Trio of Duck (potted duck, Lady Llanover salt duck, foie gras), Roast Loin of Brecon Venison with balsamic braised red cabbage, pommes cocotte, Hot Chocolate Fondant with white chocolate mousse, milk chocolate sorbet. 3 course a la carte approx. £27.00. 3 course business lunch £12.95.

PENFRO LLYS MEDDYG, Trefdraeth / Newport. Tel (01239) 820008 A cosy bar, walls hung with paintings by Peter Daniels, an open fire and candlelight, provide an intimate atmosphere. To start, try the DoubleSmoked Salmon Surprise, followed by Supreme of Organic Chicken with Ginger, Lime and Green Onion, and the Chocolate Orange Truffle Cake for dessert. From £19.

POWYS BARN AT BRYNICH, Brynich, Aberhonddu/Brecon, Tel (01874) 623480 www.barn-restaurant.co.uk Converted 17th Century barn restaurant in a beautiful courtyard setting with panoramic views of the Brecon Beacons. Also self catering accommodation adjoining. Superb seasonal menus featuring home grown and local produce including Welsh Black Beef and Breconshire lamb. Main courses from £9 to £18.

CARLTON RIVERSIDE (formerly Carlton House) Llanwrtyd Wells, Tel (01591) 610 248 www.carltonrestaurant.co.uk This restaurant with rooms has changed location but maintained its strong culinary identity in Britain’s smallest town. With an impressive backdrop, the menu is as breathtaking as the scenery that surrounds it, inside and out! The menu embraces the ingredients of Wales but unleashes them in a European style that shows itself in such dishes as the Warm Salad of Seared Scallops, which incorporates Carmarthen ham and the Roast Fillet of Local Beef with a morel and Madeira sauce. Daily Menu £35 for four courses. Room rates from £40

FELIN FACH GRIFFIN, Felin Fach, Nr Aberhonddu/Brecon, Tel (01874) 620111 www.felinfach.com This is a traditional, farmhouse style inn, with a very relaxed atmosphere. It has a good variety of seasonal soups, gazpacho being one of them, divine Wye salmon, accompanied by new potatoes with chive butter, and home made chocolate mousse, making it simple yet still managing to get the taste buds going! From £18

LAKE VYRNWY HOTEL & SPA, Llanwddyn, Powys, SY10 0LY Tel: 01691 870 692 www.lakevyrnwyhotel.co.uk Our menus reflect a genuine enthusiasm for food, using the very best local ingredients and classical bases and reductions to produce modern British cuisine. Our restaurant overlooks the stunning Vyrnwy reservoir and dishes include: Seared tuna loin, glazed with Welsh rarebit on a tomato and red onion salad, followed by Roast shoulder and cutlet of lamb, smoked bacon, pea and leek compote with braised shallots and garlic. For dessert Rhubarb clafoutis tart with vanilla ice cream, served in a tuille basket. 3 course lunch £19.50, 5 course dinner £39.95

MYNWY THE BELL AT SKENFRITH, Monmouthshire, Tel (01600 750235) www.skenfrith.co.uk (OS 457200)

THE DRAGON INN, Crughywel /Crickhowell, Powys NP8 1BE. Tel (01873) 810362 www.dragoncrickhow-

More a restaurant with eight extremely comfortable rooms, The Bell is perched on the banks of the River Monnow, surrounded by beautiful Welsh countryside. The regularly changing menu offers fresh, seasonal food from mainly local suppliers with vegetables, herbs and fruit from The Bell’s own kitchen garden. Scallops, Fillet of Welsh Beef and Steamed Sponge Pudding, Earl Grey Syrup and Jam-on-Toast Ice Cream are some of the hot favourites. The wine list is extensive and very good value. After eating, try one of The Bell’s very popular walks.

ell.co.uk This Grade II2, Visit Wales 32, historic Inn on Crickhowell High Street has been providing hospitality for over 400 years. Under head chef Robert Duggan the restaurant offers a combination of traditional British and modern European dishes, sourcing local meat and vegetables. Fish is brought in daily from Plymouth and Swansea. Dishes include Monkfish & Prawns in a creamy, garlic sauce; pheasant with Stilton and bacon on braised red cabbage and port wine sauce; breast of duck on wilted Pakchoy with egg noodles and honey & soy dressing.

If it’s not here, how can we recommend it?!

THE HAND at LLANARMON

A centuries-old inn set in the heart of the beautiful Ceiriog Valley - “The Valley of the Poets” - some of the most breathtaking countryside in Wales. Superb cuisine, freshly prepared from locally sourced produce with a minimum of fuss and formality and, of course, drinks for every taste. Comfortable accommodation in ‘Character’ and ‘Country’ rooms, maintained to the highest standards.

THE HAND AT LLANARMON, LLANARMON DC, CEIRIOG VALLEY, LLANGOLLEN LL20 7LD T:

01691 60 06 66 E: reception@thehandhotel.co.uk www.thehandhotel.co.uk

TYDDYN LLAN

Llangoed Hall

RESTAURANT WITH ROOMS

Voted Wales' Good Food Guide Restaurant of the Year 2010

LLANGOED HALL HOTEL LLYSWEN, BRECON, POWYS, LD3 0YP EMAIL: enquiries@llangoedhall.com TEL:

01874 754525

FAX:

01874 754545

The Dragon Inn

Some of the finest food in Wales Please contact us for up to date special offers or visit www.tyddynllan.co.uk LLANDRILLO, NR. CORWEN, DENBIGHSHIRE, NORTH WALES LL21 0ST 01490 440264 FAX 01490 440414 EMAIL tyddynllan@compuserve.com

TEL

PENTRE-MAWR COUNTRY HOUSE

The hotel is open all year for lunch and dinner except Sunday evenings. The Dragon is a superb base for exploring Powys, Gwent and the South Eastern Valleys.

5 star country house hotel. AA finalist 2009/10, Landlady of the Year. Restaurant open to non-residents Friday to Saturday.

THE DRAGON INN, CRICKHOWELL TEL: 01873 810362 www.dragoncrickhowell.co.uk

Lake Vyrnwy Hotel & Spa

LLANDYRNOG, NR. DENBIGH, LL16 4LA Tel: 01824 790732 Email: info@pentremawrcountryhouse.co.uk www.pentremawrcountryhouse.co.uk

Sychnant Pass House OPEN ALL WEEK TO NON-RESIDENTS LICENSED FOR CIVIL CEREMONIES HEATED POOL, SUITES WITH HOT TUBS

Lake Vyrnwy Hotel & Spa, Llanwddyn, Powys, SY10 OLY

Telephone 01691 870 692 to make a booking EMAIL: info@lakevyrnwyhotel.co.uk

www.lakevyrnwyhotel.co.uk

TEL: 01492 585486 info@sychnant-pass-house.co.uk www.sychnant-pass-house.co.uk

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TheWelsh Kitchen

DOROTHY DAVIES

Leeks - allium porrum

remember well the first time I ate leeks and really registered how delicious they were. It was in the café of The General Trading Company, Sloane Street; expectations were not high but some thirty years later they still rank well up on the list of the memorable dishes of my life. They were served with chicken in a velouté sauce, quite simple but exquisite, and part of the charm was that the leeks were cooked to perfection. It is so very easy to overcook them. Leeks are the most wonderfully versatile of vegetables. Delicious in so many ways, robust yet delicate, they can give a punch or simply behave with discretion, serving any mood. They are also a ‘superfood’ par excellence! Apparently, they speed up your metabolism while slowing the absorption of sugars and carbohydrates, (good if you are trying to trim a bit), they are also good for the circulation, for lowering cholesterol, for purifying the blood, they have diuretic properties, are high in fibre, vitamin c, calcium, folic acid, and have antiseptic properties, (helping the body to fight infection) - all in all a positive wonder food. I am beginning to wonder why I am not actually living on leeks. They have their place in history too: according to legend, King Cadwaladr of Gwynedd ordered his soldiers to identify themselves by wearing them on their helmets in a battle against the Saxons that took place in a leek field, thus starting a trend recorded for posterity by Shakespeare in Henry V. Apparently they were Nero’s favourite vegetable earning him the nickname Porrophagus (leek eater), and they are depicted on the walls of Egyptian tombs. Leeks, part of the allium family, have a long season, traditionally from August to April, but of course now they can be bought all the year around. I often braise them in a small amount of chicken stock until tender, which then serves as the base for many different dishes: add the resulting stock to a thick cheese sauce, pour over the leeks and put under the grill until browned, delicious just with some bread and butter (unsalted and cold, it gives a very pleasing contrast of flavours and texture); or serve them plain with grilled chicken and a bit of rice, which makes a light but satisfying meal; or a lovely addition to chicken pie. There is a lot of talk about the preparation of leeks, I tend to trim the bottom off, remove the outer leaf and then take the lower two thirds which I braise as above, and the rest goes for other uses: soup or stir frying, anything where it doesn’t matter that I have taken it apart to wash very carefully, as grit in your food is not pleasant. Here is a dish which is perfect for St. David’s Day (and of course cawl wouldn’t be the same without them!). It can be done easily in large quantities or quarter the quantity below if just for the family. The quantities are only guidelines; you can up the quantity of leek and cut that of ham or vice versa. It can be prepared the day before and if you are busy parading or have to go to work, it can be popped in the oven when you get home and needs nothing more than some crispy bread. This ideal comfort food; the vermouth gives it that bit of a lift for a special occasion and, if you want to turn it into a grander affair, new potatoes and carrots braised with a bit of honey make a good combination.

C a mbr i a THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

St David’s Day Ham with leeks INGREDIENTS

4lb gammon 4lb leeks 3oz butter 3oz plain flour 1 pt milk 8oz dry vermouth Half pint of cream 4 or 5oz mature Teifi cheese or Llangloffan 1 oz breadcrumbs METHOD

Soak the gammon in cold water overnight. Place in a saucepan and cover with water, bring slowly to the boil and then let it simmer; allow twenty minutes per pound and twenty minutes extra. Remove from the heat and allow to cool. Drain then remove the skin and carve, (this doesn’t have to be done beautifully), whether thick or thin is up to you, as it is going to be baked in the sauce. While all this is going on, clean and slice the leeks, sweat them gently in the butter until just tender, then stir in the flour and add the milk and vermouth bit by bit, stirring all the time to obtain a smooth sauce. Bring to simmering point and season to taste (remember the ham may be a bit salty), cook gently for about half an hour, stirring every few minutes. Add the cream, and two thirds of the grated cheese. Pour a third of the sauce into the bottom of the baking dish, arrange the slices over it and then cover with the rest of the sauce. Toss the rest of the grated cheese with the breadcrumbs, sprinkle over the top, and bake in a fairly hot oven for 20-25 minutes, until golden brown and bubbling at the edges. MWYNHEWCH!

Hotels & Restaurants THE LANGHAM LONDON 1c Portland Place, Regent Street, London, W1B 1JA T: 020 7636 1000 tllon.info@langhamhotels.com www.london.langhamhotels.co.uk

Supremely indulgent!

he pale, slightly dusky rose of the Langham’s website was like a promise, a hint of the elegance and charm. On arrival, the doormen - several of them - charming, smiling, friendly, the first point of contact and first impression, were, to put it bluntly, wonderful. One of them whisked away our slightly down at heel bags without turning a hair, as though they were brand new Louis Vuitton. Very grand hotels can be a little intimidating sometimes, but the friendliness of this one dispels immediately any feelings in that direction. My sister and I had decided that it deserved the serious once over, arrive early, leave late, and so we did. This involved quite a lot of exercise, as it is huge, the staircases are lovely, and carpeted in such a way that a spring is given to your step, and are of the broad sweeping style rather than steep. (There are lifts but in the interests of tea we decided to give them a miss). The corridors are long but hung with interesting works of art and punctuated with side-tables bearing lovely but quite simple floral arrangements. The first serious exploration was, of course, the room. It had everything you might expect and more. The television (huge), when we turned it on came up with a personalised message. The desk even had a desk diary, a beautiful hard cover dusky rose diary. In the bathroom a leather box on the side was packed with smaller boxes, all in signature rose pink, with everything from toothpaste to shaving kit to loofah, bubble bath to mouthwash. Iron and ironing board, hairdryer - everything you might conceivably need and the invitation to leave your shoes outside if you want them polished over night. After a bit of serious mirror time we glide down to the Palm Court for tea, and our only disappointment is the lack of palms. The huge mirrored room is stuffed full of people enjoying everything from tea to cocktails, quite a few of the groups have the aura of business about them. At the next table Fern Britton, elfin-like, is having a serious meeting, which looks like something to do with a book deal. Birthplace, apparently, of the afternoon tea tradition,

the menu for teas is long but the staff are knowledgeable and ready with advice, and we decide we have to try tea from the Tregothnan Estate in Cornwall. Several minutes after we sit down shot glasses arrived, with sublime Clementine mousse topped with strawberry and lime jelly. Then sandwiches, perfect egg, deliciously rare roast beef (from the Castle Mey estate) with horseradish, mustard and cress, and after that warm scones, not the scones of childhood memory but delicious nonetheless, scented with orange zest, gilded with cream and strawberry jam. This is followed by an array of assorted cakes; thank heavens for those stairs. And thank heavens too for the swimming pool which once was a bank vault, it has to be tried for this reason alone. We decide to explore and inspect the pool first. It seems a very long way off, which is good, and we took rather a circuitous route in honour of the requirement to try every single cake on offer. Guests at the hotel have automatic membership for the pool, The Langham’s Orkney Scallops gym and spa. Back at the room and time to change for drinks (sitting on the side-table a welcoming slate dotted with Ladurée macaroons and the bathroom looked as if we hadn’t set foot in it yet). If you happen to be in the Palm Court at 18.65 hours (five past seven - a nod to the hotel’s birth year), guests enjoy a complimentary soupçon of Champagne with canapés whilst they peruse the list of over 40 Champagnes available by the glass. Best of all though, was the bed, definitely the bed of fairy tales, the most unbelievably comfortable, deep mattress and pillows (usually a let-down in hotels), soft but crisp linen. I am extremely pernickety and hard to please in this area and am still trying to persuade them to let me know the make, and when they do, I’ll pass it on! The menus are fabulous, we didn’t dine in the restaurant but we did have a peek and talked to the staff there. Everything is carefully sourced and detailed on the menu, right down to farm names. Room rates are from £225 per night, but they do have, considering the luxury involved, some pretty good offers. See www.london.langhamhotels.co.uk The Taste of London festival is taking place at nearby Regent’s Park from 17th-20th June. The four day event will serve up dishes from 40 of the UK’s most acclaimed restaurants including Bryn Williams’s Odettes. C L-P

Hotels & Restaurants OSBORNE HOUSE Promenade 17 North Parade Llandudno Conwy, LL30 2LP 01492 860330 sales@osbornehouse.co.uk www.osbornehouse.com

Grand, stylish and friendly

elivering Son Number One to university proved to be more emotional than I had imagined. No different I had been telling myself, than if we had sent them off to boarding school or for a month’s work-experience. However, you know then that they will be home for the holidays, half term, weekends. Luckily, the full realisation that this was the end of an era, accompanied by the memory of my husband telling me that he hadn’t been home or even been in touch for the first three months after he went off to university, didn’t really strike home until after our very pleasurable lunch. These occasions must be marked properly so, in the belief that Bangor would be one huge fully booked traffic jam, we headed for Llandudno. Son Number Two looked up Osbourne House on the internet and declared, a touch enviously, ‘It looks like one of those grand palaces in Venice’. Our imaginations ran an expectant riot. Osbourne House, gazing out over the sea from Llandudno’s grand promenade presented a genteel frontage, redolent of a distant time - of aspidistras and parasols, perhaps, but certainly not the Grand Canal. This did nothing to prepare one for the interior, and I soon saw what had been meant. The extravagant decor: crystal chandeliers, swag upon swag of material hanging from vaulted arch and pillar (which always gives a feeling of opulence) and great, gold-framed portraits hanging from the black-painted walls, was quite breathtaking.

C a mbr i a THE NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF WALES CYLCHGRAWN CENEDLAETHOL CYMRU

Then on through hallway and drawing room to a long bar which for some reason reminded us both of Ireland, perhaps because it wasn’t just a necessary adjunct hidden away in a corner, but somehow purposeful and making a statement of its own. This consists of a long, high marble table with stools around it, and looks just the sort of place you would want to sit at with half-a-dozen oysters and a glass of champagne. Another day! Then it’s on into the well-lit dining room, again a blaze of striking and sumptuous decor, where, on Sundays the menu is not à la carte, but the Sunday lunch menu offers a pleasing choice and is extremely good value. This was not gourmet cuisine but the lunch was enjoyed by all, was pleasantly served and the portions were generous. Our son, perhaps in anticipation of imminent starvation managed to eat everything on offer including a huge slice of cheesecake. We needed coffee to enable us to move after only two courses. This was due in part to the extremely good, fresh, warm, home-made rolls that were delivered to the table shortly after we sat down. Creamy garlic mushrooms on a slice of toasted brioche were pronounced delicious by the men, my chicken liver paté was perfectly acceptable and given a good lift by a very delicious plum chutney which accompanied it. The roast beef - served with all the trimmings was tender and succulent - the bowl of assorted vegetables perfectly done providing a nice splash of colour. Chicken breast with a delicate mushroom sauce was given the thumbs-up. All in all, we liked this place and enjoyed the experience. The decor is intriguing, cleverly executed and very much in keeping with the grand atmosphere of the original house yet with a modern stylish touch. The service was friendly and efficient and for the price - we felt we had extremely good value. C L-P

BODYSGA ALLEN HALL & SPA STAY IN A NAT T HOUSE! TIONAL TRUST Standing in over 200 acres of its own parkland to thee south of Llandudno with sppectacular views of Snowdonia and Conwy Castle, believed to have 13th century origins, Bodysga allen Hall provides all that iss best in country house hospitality. In September 2008 BODYSGALLEN HALL and th he other two HISTORIC HOUSE H HOTELS became the property of THE NATIONAL TRUST, by donation, with all profits benefitting the houses annd the charity. Beautiful gardens include a rare 17th century parterree of box hedges, a rockery with a cascade, a walled rose garden, and several follies. There are 15 extremely comfortable rooms r in the Hall including four ‘Principal Suites’. Sixteen cottages, with picturesque names like Pineapple Lodge, Castlee View and Gingerbread Hoouse are situated in the grounds. The Spa at Bodysgallen Hall contains a magnificeent 20 metre pool, fully equuipped gymnasium, 5 luxurious treatment rooms, whirlpool bath, steam room, sauna, and a sunn terrace with stunning viewss of North Wales. It offers a wide range of treatments and products from ANNE SEMONIN (eexclusive to North Wales), DECLEOR, ESPA, St Tropez, together with the highly acclaimed CACI face and body treatm ments. BODYSGALLEN HALL & SPA LLANDUDNO O N.WALES LL30 1RS T(01492) T 584466 www.bodysgallen.com

O N L O O K E R

Tour de France Dinner PHOTOGRAPHS ÂŠ RHOBERT AP STEFFAN

M. and Mme. Leblanc (CENTRE) with members of the Club

Tour de France Director visits Wales

andovery Cycling Club were honoured to welcome Jean-Marie Leblanc as guest speaker at their annual dinner held at Llandovery College. M.Leblanc gave a fascinating talk about the history of the Tour de France from its inception in 1903 to the present day. M. Leblanc had served as General Director of the Tour from 1989 to 2005 having previously been a professional racer and cycling journalist. Many anecdotes were recalled about the characters he met during his long career in the sport, and the important developments that have shaped the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s greatest cycling event for over a century.

Martin Watts

Jean-Marie Leblanc

Meic Davies, Jean-Marie Leblanc and Rhobert ap Steffan

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A GOOD NIGHT OUT IN THE VALLEYS, Written by Alan Harris, Directed by John McGrath and starring Boyd Clack (High Hopes and Satellite City) and Sharon Morgan (Belonging, Tair Chwaer) will be performed in five miners’ institutes across the South Wales Valleys. It is based on real, homegrown valleys stories full of comedy and warmth with live music performed by bands from each institute’s local area. In their heyday, the coal mines created thriving communities and considerable wealth in the South Wales valleys. Those communities were full of a sense of pride and spirit, embodied in the creation of the miners’ institutes. Taking a penny from every pound

BOYD CLACK

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ONLY MEN ALOUD will be performing an open air concert at Aberglasney on Friday, June 25. It is well worthwhile experiencing a concert in this magical venue. Picnics may not be taken into the garden but can be enjoyed in the field next to the garden or the carpark. Tickets for the onenight-only performance at are available from the Concert Box Office 01558 667 951 or online at www.aberglasney.org

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CYMDEITHAS MADOG, the Welsh Studies Institute

in North America are holding their annual week-long Welsh course Cwrs Cymru Deg - Cwrs Cymraeg 2010 at Cardiff University, in the Capital, from Sunday, July 25 - Sunday, August 1, 2010. The residential course emphasises the spoken language and provides instruction/classes at seven levels, ranging from the absolute beginner to those who are well advanced. This year's course is special because, ten years after Cwrs Cymraeg was first held in Wales, we are returning to offer our unique combination of language instruction and cultural activities in yr hen wlad. For more information or to book visit www.madog.org

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01267 676767 www.trinity-cm.ac.uk Mae’r llwyddiant yn parhau… y Drindod amdani! The success continues… it’s got to be Trinity!

Two great heroines – two great operas. Join Welsh National Opera for evenings filled with passion, drama and great music.

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13 Feb – 6 March 2010 Wales Millennium Centre, Cardiff 08700 40 2000 wmc.org.uk

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16 – 17 April 2010 Swansea Grand Theatre 01792 475715 swanseagrand.co.uk

Both operas are surtitled so you can follow the story on a screen above the stage throughout. WNO also performs Mozart’s The Abduction from the Seraglio

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