Nadolig Llawen etc., etc.

My phoenix raising the pub out of the ashes, hope I'll be seeing you there from March onwards, you're all welcome. You may have noticed that I'm getting out all of my photos, it's because time is up, it's pub or photos. I've been out of work for 3 years minus 1 month but paradoxically I've had a good 3 years photo wise if not money wise, however it's all over and in 2 months I'll be back doing what God made me for - running a pub; besides the drink & chat you'll get a chance to buy your favourite photos signed & framed. In the meantime: Nadolig Llawen; Nedelig Laouen; Joyeux Noel; Merry Christmas; Nadelik Lowen; Nollaig Shona; Nollaig Chridheil; Nollick Ghennal; Frohe Weihnachten; Feliz Natal; Zorionak Eta; Bo Nadal; Bon Nadal; Polit Nadal; Buon Natale; Bones Navidaes, and just in case...: http://www.omniglot.com/language/phrases/christmas.htm

Dark Evening was Dark Morning

Got up at half-past 6, had an early breakfast, went back to bed, had a very endearing dream featuring an Irish (girl)friend of mine, partly making up for what didn't happen in real life; woke up, it was dark, I looked at the time, half-past 8, and cursed myself for having missed a whole morning & afternoon; a few minutes later there was an uncanny but discernible brightening outside, it was still morning.

Two Funerals & A Christmas Party

Not two weddings and a funeral but two funerals and a childrens' Christmas party (school production), fortunately the three not more than 500 yards from my house. The time came eventually to put my laptop on the table, get up from the settee, shake off the cobwebs, take off the dirty clothes, wash the smelly body, put on clean clothes, including black trousers & shirt, dark blue tie, black & grey pull-over, black polished shoes, black jacket and black coat. My father always kept a black tie handy in the event of a bereavement, this is the way we show respect, but I notice that almost any clothes go these days, here anyway. The first funeral was for Bernard (Nanard) Maltret's mother, Nanard is my oldest friend in the village and the only one to have visited the family home in Merthyr.in the church we sat & stood, up & down through the proceedings; eulogies were made, prayers were said, hymns were sung, the plates came around for our donations, we got up with the service over to walk down the aisle to the front and bless the coffin with a green twig wet with holy water, this to the accompaniment of background recorded music, in this case, who would have thought it? in this little village right in the middle of Brittany, lo & behold Meic Stevens was singing 'Ysbryd Solva', you could have knocked me down with a feather. On thinking about it though, improbable as it first seemed, Nanard is known to Meic and has been to one of his birthday parties in Cymru/Wales, still. We then gathered outside before following the coffin, which was pulled on a wheeled bier, down past the still locked up 'Ty Elise' to the cemetery for more blessings, eulogies and burial. I walked back up the hill and across to the hall to fleetingly see my grandchildren happy at their party enjoying the food and their presents from Pere (Jacqot) Noel before crossing to my house to get the flowers for the second funeral, that of Jean-Pierre Mell's father. Jean-Pierre is a friend and was a regular customer, calling in every day for a drink to assuage his thirst on his way home from work. Back at the church the proceedings were identical to the first with allowances for the circumstances and this time no Meic Stevens for the blessings before once more following the coffin to the cemetery, except this time I carried a pot of flowers in the procession which I forgot to do the first time. P.S. Some of you may not be aware of the pub's renown; the man I sat next to for the second funeral told me that he went to Toulon for his holidays, he entered a shop where he was asked where he was from, on replying 'Plouye, Brittany' he was told that 'Ty Elise' my pub was known to them and that they had frequented the place (I have many of these stories).

Please, and hopefully thank you in advance

Only 2 months & 3 weeks before I start earning again after being out of work for nearly 3 years. Not having insurance or dole I've reached this far with the help of friends; my basic state benefit means that my outgoings are greater than my income which is the reason for my December budget deficit. Not having any money at this moment approaching the festive season I had an idea for a one off offer on cheques received now to be redeemed at the bar afer the March opening with a 40% benefit e.g. a 100euros cheque = consommation redeemed to the value of 140euros; 200euros = 280euros etc., etc. I repeat that this is a one off offer for cheques sent in advance. On the other hand if a friend or friends who is/are unable to come to the bar could advance me some money before Christmas I will make it a priority to reimburse the loan a.s.a.p. after the pub opening which I feel could be quite successful. I understand that it is Christmas and money is short, but here's hoping; thanks in advance to those whom it is applicable, and Nadolig Llawen/Nedelig Laouen/Joyeux Noel/Merry Christmas to all.

Feel-good Factor

Hungerford 0 - 4 Merthyr. At least the soccer (at club level) is going well. Swansea are now realistically looking to play in Europe next year; Cardiff have a new record of ten straight home wins whilst sitting at the top of the Championship; Newport are top of the conference with Wrexham close behind, and here we have Merthyr 'slaying' top of the table Hungerford Town away from home. I am well aware that it's only December with a long way to go yet, but this is very much a feel-good morale boosting factor contributing positively to an otherwise demoralised nation with its rugby in the doldrums, and its education & economy worsening.

AGAIN

If it's glory you want don't move to Wales; we don't need you anyway. Wales is not about glory, it's about being thankful that we weren't born elsewhere. Silverware; medals & cups, whether sport or culture are a bonus and give us a sense of pride when won, it's obviously preferable identifying with victory than defeat when we deign to enter into competition, but sitting here watching the international with a sense of 'deja vu', a feeling of having been there before, with two minutes to go my blood froze in the manner we lost AGAIN, then on hearing that Swansea beat Arsenal at the Emirates my blood thawed thereby lifting me out of my temporary depression. I thought of what my gran used to say in these situations "such is life", although I can't help feeling that for some unaccountable reason it doesn't help my mental stability when England beat the All-Blacks. As a nation we obviously weren't destined to win everything, and I don't mean for us to be the eternal valiant triers, we consistently have more world champions than our population should logically support, just not in our most followed sports.

Planning Ahead

Re-ouverture -92 (que trois mois encore); besoin d'argent maintenant, pour chaque cheque de la somme de 100euros recu, vous allez recevoir 140euros de consommations (bieres, whisk(e)ys etc./Re-opening -92 (only 3 months to go); I need some capital to plan ahead; for every 100euros cheque I receive you will have drinks to the value of 140euros in return. Please send to Byn Walters, Tavarn Ty Elise ou/or 5, rue des Primeveres, 29690 Plouye, Breizh/Llydaw/Brittany/Bretagne, ou/or Paypal; ou/or Western Union.

Cymru/Wales v Australia

With Abertawe/Swansea finding success in the top half of the 'Premier League', Caerdydd/Cardiff top of their division, and Casnewyd/Newport & Wrecsam/Wrexham likewise in the 'Conference', not forgetting Gareth Bale superstar, it is more important than ever that Cymru/Wales beat Australia this week-end or we could see rugby trimming back to its core support with a possibility that our present under 11s growing up with soccer success might in the future be filling (from a rugby point of view) the wrong coffers in the wrong stadia, not to mention playing the wrong game. Although with all the money that there is in soccer with all the competition it engenders and the lack of it in Wales, the rugby authorities had better hope that 2012/13 is a one off ski lift to the slope with the quick descent it entails. It looks as though their are going for the type of risky play that got them the points against New Zealand after the game was sewn up in order to upset the Australian psyche & game plan, dangerous tactics, especially the way that kicking for touch went disastrously wrong when we could have gone for the points and had a different game. Back to this week-end, valiant effort, pushing for the line with seconds to go but eventually losing by one point, or more realistically 27 - 33

Church Concert

Because of my 'situation' I sometimes find myself temporarily without petrol money, so it was good this evening to have a concert only 500 yards down the road in the local church, and good it was; a group calling themselves 'Katell Kolled' sang traditional Breton songs in a sort of semi acapella, the only music, apart from they voices, being minimal drum & percussion support, including pottery vases, from nephew Glenn. The voices resonated to the centuries old church acoustics raising excellence almost magically to an even higher standard, whether taking it in turns to sing solo, engaging in musical conversation replying in turn 2 to one, or reciting a 'gwerz' or traditional tale. (The Welsh 'gwers' is a lesson or verse). It was all done to a background of 8 boards & easels exhibiting bright blues, reds, yellows, greens, blues & blacks in abstract form. An exceptional event adding to my life's quality experiences

Dreams & Nightmares

Excuses for Argentina, but after tonight it doesn't hold; arguably our best team for 40 years, with best strength in depth ever, were out fought and outplayed. Perhaps we were shown where our real level lies, whereas against New Zealand we will raise our game again. And don't tell me that Samoa raised their game because they were playing against Wales. It's good to follow international rugby in Wales because at the top we only have about 10 teams, mainly small countries, to beat, the best having an equivalent population; it allows us to dream, and anyone who knows Welsh history will know that our dreams give us the strength to carry on. One day .......

Leeches

There was once an inland port of Cyfarthfa with its main docks adjacent to Joseph Parry's house in Georgetown, Merthyr Tydfil. This port was at the top of the Taff valley taking the produce of the Cyfarthfa ironworks from the fork of the Tâf Fawr & the Tâf Fechan on the Tâf Fechan side together with the produce of the Penydarren works on the Nant Morlais and the Guest Works at Dowlais on the Nant Dowlais which connected with the Nant Morlais at Abermorlais on the Taff, around which the population & commercial centre grew to become the largest town in Wales during the industrial revolution of the 18th & 19th centuries, where unrest led to the unfurling of the first red flag in the world in 1831, the first steam locomotive to run on rails in the world in 1804. Nelsons cannons were made there as were the chains for the Menai Suspension Bridge and the railways for the empire. The workers were employed by iron 'kings', people such as the Crawshays who became the richest people in the United Kingdom before moving to their newly bought Caversham Park in England and taking their wealth with them, and the Berry family of whom Baron Buckland became a director of 60 companies within 3 years of his mentor D. A. Thomas (Viscount Rhondda) becoming a member of the Cabinet. Viscount Kemsley & Viscount Camrose, his brothers, became owners of 'The Times', The Telegraph' etc. Merthyr was overseen by bloodsuckers at the top whose physical heritage has been all but demolished by the Labour Party in the destruction of a unique story. The Nant Morlais has been covered up 2 centuries too late, and the magnificent Great White Tip, written in capitals, has gone for road fill; but Cardiff is the greatest bloodsucker, formed from produce brought down from the valleys exported elsewhere and ore uneconomically imported from the Basque country. Without the road, canal & rails that joined Cardiff to Merthyr there wouldn't be a comparative population there today, there probably wouldn't be a port, there wouldn't have been the first million pound cheque. The Marquess of Bute may have bequeathed Cathays Park but it certainly would not have become the so called (London granted, not historical) capital city of Cymru (Wales). If Merthyr had never existed to transfuse the little historical village of Cardiff, Swansea would still be there. Abertawe (Swansea)not like Cardiff has had to do everything itself and for that it can be proud. It's now a 'fait accompli'with 'national institutions', (soit disant' even before it became a city yet alone capital), but I cannot think of a more undeserving capital. With 10% of the votes it should be leading the way in Welsh affairs not a huge 'foreign' blockhouse barring the path, a place turning the world on its head where the inhabitants refer to their North Walian compatriots as immigrants!

Matchday Pubs

Would like to be drinking with my mates now in the pubs outside the ground, standing at the bar discussing the match, the country's problems and generally setting the world to rights. Never mind, I suppose I'll have to do with facebook/blogs here on my settee/couch/sofa, but the atmosphere's not the same.

French Journalist Lost in Cymru/Wales

I wrote this 3 years ago but somehow it got misplaced: A customer brought a French publication into the bar for me to read entitled 'Midi Olympique Magazine'.dated Oct 5, 2009. Apparently Hirwaun is in the heart of the Rhondda Valley at the extreme south-west of the Principality where all the mines were called The Big Pit, the mine owners were English and every mine had its rugby club. 120 miners died in an explosion at Hirwaun in 1966 and 114 died in a flood at Cymmer in 1975. Newport, Llanelli, Swansea & Cardiff are the economic lungs of the west coast. They headed towards the Brecon Forest and along the way they stopped at a pub at the side of the road in Trehafod called the 'Royal Oak' which translated means 'l'Aigle Royale'; it is part of an industry that will never know a crisis in Wales, that of hops. Inside the pub they were told a story of a university educated coach who warned the local rugby team of an imminent match against the French who were renowned for their rough play, the miners in the team laughed, they knew all about violence, for hadn't they only recently lost 120 fellow workers in the bowels of the Welsh earth! I think that this reporter was in a post-match drunken haze then lost his notebook & memory, nor did he expect a Welshman to read his article.

Happenings

Sept. 1979 > Jan. 2010: Running bar in Breton countryside.
Jan 2010: Pub burnt down, stupidly not insured for loss of earnings, under-insured for contents, used spare time to photograph Brittany
Aug 2010: Money ran out, advised to contact social worker, continued to photograph Brittany even managing to sell some photos at market but lost others plus two tents to wind & rain.
Jan 2011: Ferry paid for by Rhys so I could go to funeral in Wales.
2011: Strict regime, eating once, sometimes twice a day, no socializing at all, not even the Lorient festival, occasionally food bought with the help of friends.
2012: Light at the end of the tunnel, pub being rebuilt, spent two days at the interceltic festival, Lorient.
Sept 2012: The person usually asking for help (me) was asked to play the Good Samaritan in Portugal as unpaid adviser for the re-opening of traditional bar, with board & lodge, had to borrow money to travel 2000km, petrol re-imbursed, lorded it for a month, expenses incurred, wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Oct. 2012: Back to Brittany, reality & rain from Portugal, Sagres (+ Guinness) & sun, finding it difficult to re-adapt.
13 Oct. 2012: Enveloped myself in the best of Breton culture, forgot my problems for an evening at an excellent fest-noz in Prad in aid of Diwan Lannuon, Diwan being the Breton language schools organization.
14 Oct:  Terry the phantom barber from Ebbw Vale visits me.
 On the bright side, I come out of this long dark tunnel for the official Spring re-opening  March 1, 2013; D/J-167

A Month in the Sun

I received a call from Gareth in Cardiff to go to Portugal as an unpaid consultant but with board & lodge and petrol re-imbursed in order to help his girlfriend Dale who was starting up a bar at Tavira in the Algarve. I waited until an advance came through from Rudi then on Sunday 2 Sept. I answered the call, stopping at Gourin for the pipers' championship, then on to the Nantes periphery where I pulled up to sleep in the back of my estate which is conveniently long enough to place a sleeping bag. About 3 o'clock in the morning I was awoken by torchlight of one of  3 policemen asking me to get out and what was I doing there, after I told them I was on my way to Portugal they told me that I shouldn't be sleeping there and had I been drinking, to which I answered in the affirmative and waited for the breathalyser, the first policeman took my keys and drove off in my car, the second told me to get in the back of the police car which followed till we turned off into a service area where I got out and was advised that this was a better place to sleep, leaving with a wisecrack about the chances of my old Opel Astra making it all the way. If they had tested my breath there may not have been any trip nor driving licence especially as I only have one point left.
    I woke up driving on past Niort, Bordeaux, Saint Sebastian, Burgos, Valladolid, Salamanca, Merida, Seville, Huelva, Tavira; 48 hours later on the Tuesday evening I arrived after 2000 km (1200 m) and a few stops at service stations.
    Gareth had told me that my consultancy would be between 9.30pm & 2am (3am Sat/Sun) with nothing to do during the day and a beach on the doorstep, he forgot to mention the lock-ins and a boat to the beach. I quickly set in to a routine, mostly with Gareth, every day we'd go to the same café on the square for a large  coffee with milk, followed by a Sagres or Super Bock; a walk around the village taking photos, or a trip to the beach, would be followed by a visit to the 'Black Anchor' Irish bar. Sometimes we would say hello to the Dutch & English bars, but it was mainly to the Black Anchor that I went for my liquid refreshment before going to offer my advice evey night except Mondays for a month, and who would have thought that it would take a visit to Portugal to experience the all-Ireland Hurling & Gaelic Football finals. One day we didn't go to sleep till 6am, although that was an exception there was a lock-in almost every night.
  My daily routine, the local architecture, and the village boundaries brought to mind Patrick McGoohan's 'The Prisoner' at Porthmeirion. I enjoyed visiting the locals in their little corner bars, I made new friends, particularly Des & his wife, Kev, Dave, Jao, Paolo, Renato, Karen & Dave; the beach was magnificent, I visited another beach down the road at Cabanas, which made me think of my friend & Merthyr rugby coach Terry Cavanagh, which also had ferry access, we ate at little Portuguese restaurants, drank Portuguese wines & beers, + the digestives were voluminous & cheap. I was impressed by my temporary change in life-style, I've never really eaten in restaurants except for our Indian & Chinese back in Merthyr, so I was also happy to have lamb curry in the two Indian restaurants on the square.
     After I'd helped Dale change her address I took a day off before leaving the village after exactly a month; my last night saw me staying behind at the Irish bar at the bequest of the Irish landlord & landlady, after a discussion in good company I left to spend my last night in the back of my car, Dale having moved. The following day I went back to the café for my daily coffee and to say goodbye before driving away from Tavira forever.
     I couldn't drive back to Plouye without looking for a place that Gareth had previously told me about further east going by the name of Taffy's Bar, the problem was that I couldn't remember the address, so I drove down to Amaçao de Pera in the hope of finding it there. I wandered around the beach for a while, no ferry needed, before going to a pharmacy for a new pair of spectacles, where on my mentioning 'Taffy's Bar' he looked it up on the computer which gave its address as Praia da Rocha a further 20km to the west. Off I went straight away to get to the beach area of a highly commercial built up town, bars, hotels, restaurants everywhere, I parked my car and followed the promenade overlooking yet another beautiful never-ending beach with steps leading down everywhere; I'd convinced myself that this was the place but I was walking on and on passing in front of every kind of bar & restaurant from Japanese to Irish, hope draining until finally at the end of a long walk, there it was 'Taffy's Bar & Grill'. I took a few photos before entering, ordered a pint of Guinness, the landlord is from Treorchy, there were screens with that night's matches as in the Irish bar in Tavira, it was quiz night, I helped a Welsh couple and I had a long chat with a miner from Aberdare working in Aberpergwm, about Eddie Thomas, Howard Winstone, Malcolm Price, and Decker from Swansea Road; happy to have been there I went to my car, slept, and the following day it took me 31 hours to drive back the 1,991km. the same road as I came on, keeping a vigilant eye on the engine temperature, but although I had to pass over the Pyrenees the magnificence of which I missed twice by driving at night, I needn't have worried because it's more tunnels than actually climbing. It had been brilliant sunshine, and was to Bordeaux, the first clouds showed themselves near Vannes, then the dark clouds approaching Lorient, an hour later I was glad to get into my bed, only to be awoken by Elise wanting to know when I'd arrived, after she'd left I got out of bed and observed wet traces on the floor leading outside, so I opened the door to see the rain, I was well & truly back.

Portugal

The Tavarn Ty Elise pub sticker can now be seen behind the bar of the Black Anchor Irish bar in Tavira; it's black & white therefore it blends in well with the the Guinness décor, especially as it's Arthur's day today, we drank pints together at 17h59 (1759) the date of the opening of the brewery in Dublin. 

Tavira

The pub doesn't open till 10pm, so there is plenty of time to spend around Tavira, it's full of snack bar cafes & restaurant(e)s with nobody inside, but everyone eating and drinking under the constant sun in the sweltering temperatures (I'm not complaining). We have developed a routine of coffees, beers & snacks on the little white village square and I'm beginning to get a Patrick McGoohan in The Prisoner' syndrome, I even walked 3km down the road earlier on to see if there was anything outside the centre and there was a dead end; although a boat did come to ferry people to an island beach, Patrick (I am not a number) McGoohan was stuck. I'm acclimatizing but without a word of Portuguese; as it's Latin based the big words can be adapted but don't help much in conversation, Dale has lent me a phrasebook, it doesn't help when I go out without my glasses. Before I go on the street I habitually count four things: wallet; mobile phone; camera & diary/note book, to which must be added: glasses; keys; cap & phrasebook. As everywhere else in the world there is an Irish bar; the other day I walked in and they had a television screen showing the England World Cup Game, then on another screen was the Portugal game, at the far end of the bar was a third screen showing, lo and behold, the Cymru/Wales v Belgium game, I was pleasantly taken aback. Life can be strange, I had to come to Portugal to see the All Ireland hurling final, the Galway supporters were watching the game at one end of the bar, and the Kilkenny fans were watching a different television at the other end. I'll be going back for the World Cup qualifiers tonight but it's not certain whether Scotland or Wales will have the third screen, as the other day there were three matches for three screens with Scotland playing the following day, we shall see. Today I met a couple from Abertawe (Swansea) & Caerfyrddin (Carmarthen) who are here birdwatching, I told them about the bar but our opening time is after their bedtime.

The Algarve

Come and join Dale, G. ap Siôn & me in Portugal./

I'd better mention that it doesn't open till about 10 at night.

Gourin > Tavira

 I went to the music festival in Gourin on Sunday, the competition for the best pipers in Brittany, but didn't stop for the fest-noz (Breton dance) because it would have taken me over the limit for the drive to Portugal, unfortunately I might have already been a bit over, anyway, I drove off, got to the other side of Naoned (Nantes) when I decided I was too tired to carry on so I pulled over on the side of the periphery, climbed in the back and fell asleep, to be woken by a torch in my face and 3 policemen staring at me who asked me to get out and what was I doing there; they also asked me if I'd been drinking to which I replied in the affirmative, one of them took my keys and drove off in my car, another told me to get in the back of the police car; I waited for the obligatory breathalizer, we carried on down the road, the first driver pulled in, our car stopped behind, at a petrol station, they told me to sleep there for a few hours before attempting to set off again!!

Portugal

Right, I am ready to answer Dale's call to be her Samaritan at her bar in Portugal, she has broken a bone in her back so can't do any of the physical work necessary such as changing the barrels, and I am the only experienced  barman she knows well enough to ask and is available. I can't do it off my own bat, so my expenses including petrol will be reimbursed and I will have food & lodge. I have made the preparations, but one thing is holding me back, I will be passing through Gourin, and tomorrow will be an exceptional day, even for Brittany, of music & dance. It's an annual event, but it will be the first time in 33 years that I will be free to go because of weekend work obligations, Sunday has always been my best day; but it will mean postponing my venture for a day, and she's already been calling me for a week; on the other hand I did say that I couldn't go before tuesday, which gives me leeway because even if I turn up a day late I'll still be a day early.

Drinks over the Bar

   These friends have drinks over the bar (in), if you know what I mean, the ones who gave me crutches when I couldn't walk, who kept me from drowning when I got in too deep, and who gave me food when the cupboards were bare: I won't give your surnames, you know who you are, but stay with me, hang on in there, there's still 6 months to go for March 1st, St. David's Day, when the weather will be turning (which way is anyone's guess), the pub will be re-opening, life will be back to normal and Bob Dylan's 'Dignity' will once more be returning to its rightful place in the repertoire. I will be forever grateful to:
Rudi; Mary; Lindsay; Jim; Gareth; Liliane; Katell; Lleuwen; Philippe; Colin; Jamie; Iolo; Julian; Michel; Denis; Maldwyn; Virginie; Lyndon; Michelle; Jacques; Sonya; Greg;  Giil; Isabelle; Gael; Patrice; Bev; Mark; Pol; Evelyne; Kevin; Bernez; Yann; Pedro; John; Chris; Rhys; Alan; Hefin; Roxanne; Nico; Yann, and Alison, not her fault I didn't go along. I sincerely hope that I haven't missed anyone; apologies if I have..

My Day

Yesterday I decided to visit Katell (Catherine Morvan)'s exhibition in a café beside the Aon (Aulne) at Meilh ar Wern (Port Launay), but first I called in to the Uhelgoad (Huelgoat) post office to pick up a sum of money (thanks again Rudi) that will enable me to answer Dale's call of distress from Portugal; she is by herself, has a broken bone in her back that hasn't had time to heal, and her son is back in Cymru. She won't be able to do any physical work such as changing barrels, has newly opened the place, and is lacking in resources to hire bar staff, so it's urgent that I get there: as I'm writing, her boyfriend called from Caerdydd (Cardiff) to say he's flying out thursday, but his expertise & experience concerns the wrong side of the bar and can I get there a.s.a.p., they are relying on me and my experience on the right side of the bar, at last it will be my turn to help someone in need. I went directly from the post office to Kastellin (Chateaulin) to query the rent the housing association has asked for twice this week, wrongly as it happens, then back up and down the hill to say hello to my distant cousin in law, to witness her photographic oeuvres, have a chat, pick up tips, drink a coffee, before driving off to the sea. I took the riverside road to the new Terenez suspension bridge, continuing to the northern end of Douarnenez Bay for my first sea swim in 32 years at a place called Trez Aber (Plage de l'Aber); tried to dry myself under the sun but it kept hiding behind the clouds, I eventually drove off to Pentrez (C/W: Pentraeth) where I had a twenty minute wait for a simple uncooked chips with sausages take-away, that they weren't at all greasy was a saving factor, then I drove back to my house, it was 8pm.

The Short Run

I've been watching the athletics; this was not the Olympics, no national flags, no anthems, no GB shirts; in short no Team GB or more correctly the UK team; Cymru/Wales has its own WAAA, so why wasn't 'Wales' written next to the names of the Welsh athletes now that the Olympics is over, as is practised in rugby, darts, golf, World Cup football, which is now upon us, and just about any and/or all other World Championship/Cup events. Outside the Olympic games the UK is governed by sporting bodies, our respective autonomous federations & associations and not directly by any other UK authority; I expect to see: Wales; England; Scotland, & Northern Island next to the athletes names where there is an autonomous ruling body, and not GB as was the case today, at least in the short run.

Baragouin

I was having my occasional read away from the television & computer discovering 'The Best of O'Henry, one hundred stories chosen by Sapper', early 20th century American short stories of life in the raw on the range, the road or in New York tenements, when out of nowhere I came across a story entitled 'Roads of Destiny', suddenly on page 796 there it was, the two Breton/Welsh words famously transformed into one word in French; unsurprisingly, given the word(s), the story had a French connexion, recounting an assassination attempt on a French king. The word(s) in Breton/Welsh are 'bara' & 'gwin'; they are brought together in French as 'baragouin' meaning unintelligible speech, stemming from the inability of the French to understand the Bretons asking for bread & wine when they were hungry & thirsty. Gregach (speaking Greek) = Baragouin in Breton.

Damsel in Distress

Just had a phone call from the Algarve, Portugal. A Welsh friend running a pub needs help, her son has returned to Wales 3 weeks earlier than planned, damsel in distress, on her own, how soon can I get there?
She is almost as badly off as I am, except that she has a pub. If I go now I'm afraid that my car will run dry before I reach the Pyrenees; I won't fly although it will be cheaper (she can just about pay for the flight), and anyway I will need my car when I get there especially as she can't drive. A change of scenery (a bar!) will do me good before I'm tied definitively to my own place, but it comes down to my prime & constant problem. She's going to ring me back in a few days to see if I will have sorted things out by then.

What a week that was

What a week; it began on the monday with a personal friend going to prison defending his beliefs & principles; tuesday I went to a very successful fest-noz (Breton traditional evening dance) only to come home to a house lacking my laptop computer with nothing else touched yet alone stolen, not my papers, c.d.s, wine, cheque-book, nothing?! Wednesday I was informed of the death of a friend, which came as a shock when only the previous day I'd been told that he'd hurt his hand! Friday after being inspired by a friend's f/b photo I went for a jaunt up the road to our Breton Mont Saint Michel (Menez Mikael) with its chapel on top, and spent the afternoon & evening taking landscape photos. Saturday Elise mentioned a fest-noz that evening on her front door, so off I went to witness another successful evening of traditional music & dance. Sunday afternoon sitting quietly there was a knock on the door; a friend entered, just driven up from Le Faouet where he'd met someone who didn't believe that the pub was being rebuilt and who had a stand at a 'brocante' under the canopy of the 16th century unenclosed market hall; he stuck 20 euros in my hand and down we went, paying to go in, then went to a friend's pub next door for half a beer, it was hot; my driver spoke to me of the Menez Hom, the highest point of the Menez Du, with my landscape photos still fresh in my mind he unselfishly took me there, crossing over the Aulne on the new Terennez curving suspension bridge where he was on home ground. The vista was huge, overlooking Douarnenez Bay, the 'Rade' of Brest, even up to the Menez Are. My mouth by now being dry, we descended to a bar in Saint Nic for a half before returning to Plouye and my laptopless house. Tonight, monday the thief not having stolen my bottle of Beaujolais, brought to me by friends from Ystrad Mynach, that was on the coffee table next to the portable computer, I couldn't take my eyes off it thinking about the matter, I was building up a taste for red wine, unfortunately I couldn't find a corkscrew so I had another cup of tea.

March 1 & 2 re-opening

I had intended making a special effort for the Pontardawe festival; I was looking forward to a weekend back home with a few extra days sight-seeing, but the price of the ferry has put it way out of reach after 2 and a half years out of work and no dole. On the positive side "Grand Official re-Opening of Tavarn Ty Elise", to co-incide with the Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant, Patron Saint of Cymru (Wales) Dydd Gwener/Deiz Gwener/Friday/Vendredi & Dydd Sadwrn/Deiz Sadorn/Saturday/Samedi, Mawrth/Meurzh/March/Mars 1 & 2, 2013.

London?

Now that the LONDON Olympics has set a precedent, will we be seeing the Edinburgh Festival in Cardiff, or the Cardiff singer of the year in Newcastle? Or perhaps there aren't any hegemonic old empire pretensions stemming from these places. Believe it or not there is no British team, no flag of Gt. Britain, no British Anthem and this is NOT the BRITISH Olympics.

Welsh 'Pavillon'

Went to the national 'pavillons' in Lorient where everyone was in festive mood drinking, singing, dancing, playing & listening to music; then I went to  see what the Welsh had to offer - lamentable; a Parisienne P.R. who normally handles Welsh affairs in Paris for the Welsh Government, who knew next to nothing of Brittany and its relations to Cymru/Wales, a girl from central France who'd worked in Wales, a boy from Caerdydd/Cardiff who knew little Welsh, and someone I took to be an Englishman completely ignored me though I chatted to the others, mentioning that they could perhaps point out what the maps were for, they later added this information. On hearing of a stabbing the Englishman whom I took to be in charge said "it wouldn't have been handled like that in ENGLAND." After passing by the bars & concerts, our whole display was a fridge with a small selection of bottled beers & micro-wave meals, and a map of the twinned towns & villages with the names written in their French & English forms only; there were a few leaflets, the rest having been left at the Eisteddfod. I noticed that there were microphones set up, they told me it was for a Welsh bagpipe concert in the evening, so I went back at 7 o'clock only to be told that it had been cancelled; very disappointing to say the least, although it must be said that it doesn't help that when the festival was established there was no thought of Wales and its clash with the Eisteddfod Genedlaethol, after all the Irish are Celts whilst the Welsh are perceived as English, notwithstanding this we don't help our reputation abroad by deliberate under-representation. By the way an Irish musician informed me that Ireland didn't have a 'pavillon', but that they were represented by Guinness.

Carolyn Hit(t)s a False Note

What's wrong with you you spellbound easily propagandered woman, wake up, can't you see you & millions of others are being used; these are not the British games but the London games, Defeated Paris should get on the telephone to the I.O.C. and complain that London has gone way beyond its remit and broken its contract, anyone would think that it's the Festival of Britain we are celebrating here. This is a manifestation of a Great Britain in its violent orgasmic death throes, a last stand for Britishness that has been swamping us all year in the media in one form or another and you've fallen for it. I repeat These are the LONDON games, Paris has good reason to complain.
P.S. David Beckham is an over used quintessentially English quality that grates.
http://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/need-to-read/2012/07/30/carolyn-hitt-danny-boyle-s-brilliant-olympic-ceremony-has-redefined-britishness-91466-31501919/

British?

The Welsh have been British since before the dawn of history, we lost Britain's crown to the invading Angles of Northumbria at the end of the 7th century, we thought we took it back under the Tudors in the 15th; the Scots came into the British picture in 1707. Great Britain as a term (Grande Bretagne) was coined to differentiate the Britons who moved to the Armorican peninsula and the Britons who stayed at home on the Island. The new rulers of Britain called themselves after the Germanic tribes of Northumbria -  the land of the Angles, whilst the Britons & Gaels named them after the Germanic tribes of the south - the land of the Saxons as Great Britain became Greater Germany before the name was given a political as well as a geographical sense with the Anglo-Scottish Act of Union. Ironically if Hitler hadn't been defeated our athletes today would be competing on behalf of another Greater Germany singing the German anthem of the day much as our footballers were expected to sing the German, sorry, English anthem cum anti Scottish war song of today.

Fe Gerddaf Ymlaen

Can't go to Uhelgoat today with my photos, not having protection from the rain, sold 6 in 2 days, stayed in bed, not a good sign. 29 months unemployed there's always a risk of depression, but as I'm constantly working on my photos there's not much risk of that. The big problem is the lack of money that sometimes prevents me from filling up my tank with petrol and taking to the road with my camera.
    This year after having not gone out socially for two years I've decided that a pint or two now & again can do me good, then wake up the following day feeling guilty that the money could have been better spent, notwithstanding, I'm going to make a special effort to spend 3 days in Pontardawe for their now famous festival, I was there in 1979, this will definitely do me good, but I will undoubtedly wake up on the monday with a heavy conscience.
        In september it will be my chance to be the Samaritan, I've had a call from Cymru/Wales to assist a girl in distress in the Algarve who's re-opening a bar but has no money; could I help out for 3 weeks; food, lodge & expenses paid, such as petrol to get down there, no wages, but a beach & good weather, I'm not 21 anymore, I'm 61 (in 5 days). I only came to Plouye for 2 weeks, so is destiny calling? My pub re-opening has been put back once more.
     Before I woke up this morning I dreamt I was at a Cymdeithas yr Iaith festival, back in the old atmosphere meeting old friends, I was local organizer (cysylltwr) for the Merthyr area in I think 1977. In my dream I was writing out posters for my own festival in either Plouye or Merthyr; in Merthyr I used to organize functions for Plaid Cymru, and in Plouye I had the big pub hog roast every August. As I mentioned the other day I also, off my own bat, organized the first Welsh language rock concert in Merthyr at Rhydycar, Merthyr with Injaroc. Depression comes from circumstances suffocating you, taking away your belief that you have a reason to live, I still have many things on the horizon to look forward to, and it's been a while now since I've been sitting here stemming the tears, with no food in the fridge & no money in my pocket. Fe Gerddaf ymlaen.

London Games

Some, including prominent Welsh people, appear to be under the mis-apprehension that the Olympics are the British games, they are not, London beat off Paris for the honour of holding them, and personally I think the organizers should be reported for going outside their boundaries, therefore not living up to their contract. There has always been leeway/licence for nautical sports but this is not the case here. There is also confusion between 'British Team' or 'Team G.B.' which is a misnomer because the competitors represent the U.K. and not G.B. and 'British games' which they are not. The image is that of the 1950s post war London (English) hegemony, almost as though the U.K. in its Anglo-centric form is writhing violently in its death throes, throwing (excuse the pun) up everywhere on the screen any excuse to celebrate Britishness, what, what, before the inevitable will happen, and who knows, perhaps the non- English in 4 years time will be able to sing our/their own anthems in victory and fly our/their own flags; except in team sports of course where there would be a cacophony if we sang our own, better not to sing at all.

Baa-baabel

My Welsh speaking friends would prefer me to write yn Gymraeg, my Breton speaking friends would prefer me to write 'bar' Brezhoneg, my old Merthyr friends don't get it when I put something up en Francais, but the fact is that more than half of my friends now are on the southern end of the Môr Breizh/Channel/Manche many of whom don't speak a word of English, so that my insistence on writing in Saesneg, mainly because it's the only one I can write half decently, means that the majority of my friends feel left out and that many of my messages go by the wayside anyway e.g. As it's sunny I think I'll give my photos an outing tomorrow morning at the market in Uhelgoad but closer to the lake; plastic protected = 5 euros, Glass framed = 10 euros, who knows, I may earn enough to buy a tent to take them out in less salubrious weather, but seriously: demain je pense aller au marché à Uhelgoad/Huelgoat

Not doing for their country

Football-wise we never did well in world terms historically, except for1958 in Sweden when we qualified through the back door, partly because English F.A. managers weren't obliged to release our players. Now that we have a talented but limited squad who are capable of doing things and going places, some of our players are egotistically putting our World Cup chances at risk by competing in a completely unnecessary tournament as far as soccer is concerned in the event of their succumbing to burn out and/or injury.
http://www.fifa.com/worldcup/preliminaries/matches/fixtures.html

Testing my Logic

"This is the first event of the London Olympics"!!!!!! Sorry I thought this was Caerdydd/Cardiff, capital of Cymru/Wales. My logic is being strained somewhat.

Gt. Britain/Scandinavia

For Cymru think Norway, for Scotland think Denmark, For England think Sweden, for Great Britain think Scandinavia, British Airways-Scandinavian Airlines. The Scandinavians have an ancient common culture going back to the Vikings/Norsemen, the British go back to 1707 a thousand years later, yet the main difference is that the Swedes, Norwegians & Danes, although they cooperate also act independently of each other when deemed appropriate. At the Olympics this year, if they win gold, you will be hearing the respective Swedish, Danish & Norwegian Anthems and seeing their individual flags. They are closer historically as countries than we have ever been, we ought to be able to follow their lead.
P.S. All parties being equal in mind and body (politic) also avoids that sickening manifestation' of  **** licking toadiying sycophants endeavouring to attain a social status denied them thus far by their psychological make up and accident of birth. We have examples in our sports ruling bodies and our hospital boards.

Postal Orders

I've got to sort these photos out, there's definitely a commercial potential on the best of them. I could send a glass framed A4 photo to anywhere in France & Brittany in a post office package for 20 euros. I can go back to the markets for 2 euros a time plus the monthly insurance but I need a market tent or gazebo 3m x 2m costing about 200 euros, I haven't been able to display any photos due to the constant rain and the fact that I need to print more, which I won't do to have them sitting around the house. I am able to print individual photos on order, just tell me which photo you want and I will post it on.
https://picasaweb.google.com/103071865082105641326

Landerne(au

Friday evening I went to Landerne(au where I heard Cymraeg spoken on the street, albeit with an almost indistinguishable Breton accent; I called in to the 'Keltia', discussed Breton & Welsh history with an interested party, met a member of 'Breini' (a Breton group) who used to teach at Llanharan, then, unknowingly at first, I had the privilege of chatting at the bar with the Welsh speaking former Mayor of the town who told me that the other Welsh speaker on the street was probably his son who had studied at Aberystwyth and was taking a contingent around from twin town Caernarfon. With him at the bar was a Caernarfon County Councillor from Caerffili and a singer/musician from the group 'Dyniadon' of the late 60s - early 70s. An old friend invited me to stay 200 yards from the pub, but about 5.30 am I discretely retired (Je filais à lAnglaise) to my car where I spent the night next to the river Elorn. I expected to meet another old friend Maurice, who was one of the townspeople looking after the Welsh, back in the same bar for an 11 o'clock aperitif, but not surprisingly after such a late night it didn't open. I looked for them at the festival stage where I found them ready to go to an official function, I went back to my car feeling guilty for having spent money on beer that could have been more wisely spent elsewhere, but otherwise content for my evening's experience, and away I went for an afternoon's excursion with my camera, which I wouldn't have enjoyed if I'd stayed at home.