Our History

As was once Brythonic & Caledonian in the north, it is interesting to measure, calculate, delineate, or even devine the approach of the Gaels from Dalreada, and/or Ireland, how the Gaels intermarried with the Picts whose descendance was through the female line, for how long they continued to exist, apparently Macbeth was a Pict; and the eventual assimilation, or conquest, of the Northern Welsh pincered between the Irish invaders from the west and the Northumbrian Angles from the east. End of the Northern Welsh & the beginning of the Germanic hegemony followed by Norman rule in Scotland & England, baronial rule in the Welsh Marches with autonomous Princeps, before everything was absorbed into the Anjevin Empire & the reign of the French Plantagenets that only came to an end in 1485 with the Earl of Richmond, Henry Tudor becoming Henry Vll realizing Myrddin's (Merlin's) prophesy that the Red Dragon would once again take the crown of Britain, Arthur once more to take the throne, unfortunately he died at an early age leaving his younger brother to take his place, we all know what that led to, the greatest dynasty of the English and the end of Cymru & another assimilation. Britain stayed in Armorica, England took over Wales' history, then in 1707 another Great Britain was born with the union of Scotland & England. Is this the end or do we have a future and not just a past?

Another Fantastic Evening

What a fantastic evening with wonderful music; pity there weren't more people, improvised as it was. Tourists are starting to dribble in, Germans from Stuttgart yesterday, some cyclists are calling in to get out of this miserable weather, namely 3 men last friday who'd just cycled up from Foret de Fouesnant on their way to Uhelgoat; they approached the bar, and in their best French ordered a few beers, and in my best valley accent I advised the boys from Abercarn, Blackwood & Pontllanffraith which were the best choices available, having as I do the best beers of the region, if not further. Dumbfounded as they were on finding out that I'm from Merthyr we had a little chat, especially the bit about the one from Abercarn organizing a do in the local rugby club with Max Boyce who made them proud with a mention in one of his most famous rugby trip songs about 'The Boys From Abercarn'. Loads of live music since the reopening with a few quiet days, not being near any towns I'm fortunate in that people come so far out of their way. The beer I sell is artisanal (craft) therefore not of the 'popular sort', it doesn't go down well with the local farmers who prefer the gassy chemical sort of beer that they've been brought up with, but it does attract customers from all over the country, so I took a gamble to give up the majority of the locals and instead to have a minority of every town & village in Brittany (& elsewhere), only time will (eventually) tell.

Nomers

Looking at the 'genets' on my raised chimney got me thinking that If the Plantagenets were really English kings and not just kings of an England which was part of the greater Angevin Empire the 'Brooms' would have been on the throne instead, and the Tudors who followed them would have been the 'Merediths' if Owain had chosen his father's and not his grandfather's patronym on moving to England.

Breton Culture in the Bar

What a fantastic evening last friday in the bar; story tellers and singers from the locality, including a choir, entertained a packed pub in the Breton tongue, the true (together with Gallo in the Eastern part) but unofficial language of this country, with the bonus of contributions from Katell Kloarec & Lleuwen Steffan giving a bit of cultural diversity with their bi-lingual offerings, once again placing Cymraeg (Welsh) next to Brezhoneg (Breton) in fraternal empathy.

The Missing Gesture of Solidarity

I'm restarting at zero, some people are helping me begin to decorate the bar, and my first beers are on credit, BUT, CREDIT AGRICOLE (my bank) in 2010 telephoned me with a gesture of solidarity, which was an advance of a sum of money, half of which was to help me in my troubles, and the other half to be kept back for the reopening. Now there's been a change of staff resulting in nobody knowing anything about it! At the moment I've managed to get 1/3 of the sum they've agreed to give me which is 3/5 of the sum promised. Come on Credit Agricole, keep to your word.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant & Pub Renovation

Grand party to celebrate the rising of the phoenix from the ashes on its meeting with the dragon of Cymru/Wales on the day of the Patron Saint David/Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant, March 1 (2 & 3) for the reopening of 'Tavarn Ty Elise' after 3 years of closure, at Plouie (Plouye), Finistere, Brittany.

Pub Reopening

March 1/2/3: Fête of Welsh/Breton bar, Tavarn Ty Elise, Plouie (Plouye), reopening after 3 years of forced closure due to incendie, coinciding with Welsh national festival of Saint David/Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant. Music & dance over 3 days accompanied by mesdemoiselles Ambrée, Blonde, and Stout, there for your pleasure.

Merthyr Town AFC

Another Welsh association football team playing in the English pyramid and doing well, they're in the shadow of the four others, that's because they've drifted out of the spotlight into the nether regions. They have crucial gêms coming up against their promotion rivals, hoping to go up a division for a third successive year. I've followed them since I can remember because my gran used to live opposite, below Penydarren House in Trevethick St., we'd play where there were once bluebells in the grounds of the old Homfray mansion, and where F.A. Cup Final referee Leo Callaghan & others built their bungalows after the council knocked the house down; before we lost our childrens' football pitches where our coats served as goalposts, on a saturday afternoon we'd hear a murmur, walk through the skeletal house to see what was happening, and sneak in through a hole in the fence to see a real football match. Back in the fifties when clubs were voted into the Football League they were the best team in the land for years outside of it & the top Scottish clubs, but no matter how many times they applied they couldn't get the votes. In the end they couldn't get back to where they once were in the 1920s when they played against Aberdare in the 3rd Division South, so after years of frustration from banging their heads against a wall they slipped to their current position. After a lot of trouble & financial strife they seem to have got themselves back into the groove and are moving in the right direction, ask Owen Money. Up, up, up The Martyrs.

Dylan Thomas

Pol Huellou got in touch with me today about the launching of a project 'Dylan Thomas, his Wales & his family' that will see poetry recitals in French together with excerpts from the autobiographies of his wife, Caitlin, and daughter, Aeronwy, accompanied and/or followed by music to be staged with a strong possibility at the bar on Sun. May 12. Watch this space. He also sent me 2 c.ds, one a volume of songs sung by the late Liam Weldon in collaboration with Pol, they toured together for 15 years, Liam once brought a 17 years old Davy Spillane to the bar with him back in the pub's very beginning about 34 years ago; the second, a poem 'Si la musique doit mourir' by the Tunisian poet Tahar Bekri, in 6 different languages, it is available through the internet on: iTunes; Deezer; Amazon, etc. In the meantime, today I drank a beer at the bar for the first time since Feb. 18 2010, THREE YEARS AGO, things are looking up, I expect to see a few of you on Saturday for an informal drink and a chat, but the pub isn't completed yet, so don't you expect too much, the opening day with festivities is March 1.

Paris Trip 2013

Today I noticed that my domesticated wild daffodils are beginning to flower. As you all know I'm almost back in my bar so 3 days ago I decided to have a last fling and drive to Paris. I put 38euros worth of petrol in my old car thinking correctly that a vehicule that can get me to the Algarve in the south of Portugal can get me there no problem, and hoping that it would be enough because my budget was very tight with a limited amount of money at hand, but not to worry because the little amount spent would be reimbursed on opening day of the pub, whether provisional or official. This may be my last chance to meet old friends who follow rugby but who don't visit Brittany, I expect that after 3 years of unemployment I will be at the bar till I drop. I drove through the centre of Brittany, I could have gone through Saint Brieuc but I chose Loudeac, the roads converge near Saint Méen le Grand anyway and continue to the motorway tollgate on approaching Laval where I got my ticket at the entrance to show at the exit, it rained all the way and in some places there was fog. At the end near Paris I put the ticket in the machine to calculate the kilometers travelled followed by my bank card; with a queue building behind me my card was refused, strange because I'd already used it to fill my tank with petrol, a lady came across, looked at it, and told me that my type of card was not accepted with no further explanation. I drove on to Paris driving around with my petrol tank emptying trying to find a free parking space, impossible, I didn't want to waste my money nor time nor petrol so I ended up taking a risk, which got me a parking ticket and a 35euros fine to pay later instead of a 26euros parking fee to pay straightaway. I parked near the Eiffel Tower that meant my crossing the Seine (took four tourist photos from the bridge and one at the tower)to catch the Metro leading to my destination, Corcoran's Irish bar, just a little way from the Place de Clichy station, knowing that I'd meet up with the people and the ambiance I was searching. I totally upset my timetable & my budget but it was worth it, I met friends of friends from my next street, and from Rhymney, friends of Mogsy of MTRFC & The (in)famous Wyndham Arms on Glebeland St. who introduced me to Coombes the new forward from Merthyr's father, others introduced me to Robert Jones a former Welsh scrum half. Great atmosphere, it was an Irish pub but behind the bar there was an Argentinian, Bulgarian, Englishman and the Dutch barman who was working there the last time I visited, who shook my hand before I left telling me he was happy to see me again. Before I got back there on the saturday I lost my way after the Arc de Triomphe while time was getting on, I stopped the car to ask someone and it couldn't have been more simple; drive to the peripheral road, continue to the Porte de Clichy, turn off and straight on to Place de Clichy where I parked my car in a multi-story before rejoining the pub with a little time to spare. I drank with the earlier crowd from Rhymney, a couple who were cousins to Philip Joll the opera singer from Cyfarthfa School & Gellifaelog Tce and Robert his brother an ex policeman who went to the same sunday school as I did, big friends of Philip Beynon, cousin of Jane, who married my friend Malcolm, and Alan who used to unmercifully bully him in school, and if I remember rightly whose father died in the Aberfan disaster, and uncle re-established Merthyr Rugby Club after the war. I watched the match and went through the emotions, until the referee blew for the end of the match (incredibly we'd won in Paris after one of the worst records in our history of 8 straight defeats), in a round with a group of boys, 3 of whom were Parisians, the fourth was an ex-college international from Ferryside who played in the same side as a young James Hook, went to Paris as a chef, married a Finnish dancer working at the Moulin Rouge, had their first child in Finland and are now both back working in Paris. I met a man with his wife at the bar who worked for a year in Lloyd's Bank, Merthyr, before I left I paid with my card. Sunday I left the multi-story car park, ticket followed by card, same principle as the toll but this time was successful. I drove up to Porte de Clichy on red where I knew there was a petrol station, ordered my petrol on the 24h pump, put in my card but it was refused. My petrol gauge was almost on red, I was on the outskirts of Paris sitting in my car in the snow in a nightmare situation not knowing what to do next, was it my card? because I paid with it in the pub and the car park, or was it because there was no more money in my account? Someone asked me if I was going to move off, I explained my situation, he wished me good luck, after I'd driven off to a bleak immediate future I realized that I could have made a cash exchange for the use of his card, but now it was too late. I'd taken a calculated risk but had I miscalculated? With a sickly feeling I drove on in a westerly direction only guessing I was on the right road, I was on the motorway with no sign for Rennes, there was one for Rouen, I wisely decided against, it was snowing, I could see myself stopping on the side of the road and hitch hiking in the snow with my petrol can in hand to the next services, I drove on with one eye constantly on the gauge scared of what might come about, until, I believe these things are sent to test us, I espied a petrol station up on the right; I left the motorway still not to sure what was going to happen, I filled my tank, as I was so doing a swarthy stranger came up to me and said "are you Bernard Walters", bloody hell I'm famous, even known here on the outskirts of Paris; oh no, there's been a serious accident in the family and the police are out looking for me; "this is your credit card, you dropped it." I gratefully took back my card, went inside to pay and mercifully this time it worked. I had a close look at it, it didn't look any different to any other card, but in small print it said 'ELECTRONIC USE ONLY'. I asked the way to Brittany, I was on the right road straight on, thank goodness for that, but the weather was filthy, snow in Paris, then sleet for a long way and rain & fog until almost in Brittany where it was night but clear, then against the odds I got lost again outside Rennes, taking the Lorient instead of the Brest/Saint Brieuc road, unbelievable, lost in the centre of Paris, lost on the way out, and now lost in Brittany, a country I know well, Unbelievable because the last time I went to Paris in my car it went off perfectly, without error. I drove around central Brittany, just avoiding an accident, clipping a roundabout I didn't see until the last moment, watching the petrol gauge descend until I saw a sign for Merdrignac knowing that the road would get me to Loudeac, Rostrenen, Carhaix and home to bed. Got out of bed today and saw the yellow buds of my wild daffodils. Although the whole journey was misjudged and potentially ill-judged it was however all well worth it. Now for the pub, beer pumps installation in the morning.

'The King's Grey Mare'

In Rosemary Hawley Jarman's book mentioned earlier it was Lord Stanley, and not as I was taught, Rhys ap Thomas who placed the crown "...with great drama and reverence..." on the head of Henry Tudor, the Earl of Richmond, in the field after Henry had finished wetting himself and had turned to vomit that "none saw", "...; not through any squeamishness..." mind you; although she has it both ways - "Let it be over quickly, and let none see my fear.", and it was Henry and not Richard III who had the 'princes in the tower' murdered, but gradually the Tudors come into their own: "Jasper will breed for us a Dragon, Of the fortunate blood of Brutus is he, A Bull of Anglesey to achieve, He is the hope of our race..." There is one little slip up that's hardly worth mentioning, but I will anyway, where the proof reader couldn't cope with the Welsh, for just after writing 'Maredudd' correctly we get 'Marredud! He/she could have conferred; but fair play to her the end of the book mainly belongs to Henry VII. "He knew himself the offspring of gods and princes...,"The Dragon was so powerful, with its rippling body and serpentine tail, its fierce gory colour. "He sat still calling up his ancestors. The great Uther Pendragon and his greater son, Arthur, not dead but sleeping under green banners and silence. Down through a female line, past Owen, the dreamers and warriors of Wales; through Llewellyn, Rhys, Gruffydd, Owain, Maredudd, Hywell (sic), to the misted splendour of Cadell, Rhodri, Merfyn, and last, the Lady Ethil, of the Isle of Man." "That Tudor must destroy Plantagenet,... One by one , until , as the dying Cadwallader prophesied, we are supreme in England, ..." "Arthur had come again. The token of greatness fleshed; the prophesy fulfilled." "...he had received the blessing of God,...and possibly Cadwallader, for whom he was very nearly named." "He (Henry)leaned over the swaddled, grizzling infant and whispered in Welsh; whispered of Llewellyn, of Gladis, of Merfyn and Rhodri, of Iorwerth and Gruffydd, of Iago and Cynan; of Noah." "I will have a realm that my son can rule with the grace of Uther Pendragon, of Llewelyn the Great." The king's grey mare died yesterday, long live His Majesty King Henry VII and Prince Arthur. For the sake of God, the catholic church and Cymru/Wales don't have a second son.

Stammering Start

Reminder: Digor betek-gouzout/Agoriad dros dro/Ouverture provisoire/Provisional opening: sad/sam/sat;sul/dim/sun 16/17-02-2013, but the following for the real opening: http://www.facebook.com/events/328239657292001/?ref=22

Pub in Need

Anything to do with a pub that you're not using bring it over; I used to have a 'Bass' & a 'Guinness' mirror, pumps that pulled half pint measures, Welsh plaques; dart board (I haven't decided on that yet, nobody plays); don't forget that I'm starting from scratch and I'm living in a country with no pub culture, these things would be difficult to get even if I had money. Anything you can think of, like bar mats, beer mats I can get, that add to the atmosphere of a traditional pub. There are so many places closing that there must be stuff lying around in the breweries going spare.

Kernewek

It's fascinating looking at Kernewek (Cornish vocabulary) as a sort of intermediary between Cymraeg (Welsh) & Brezhoneg (Breton) e.g.: bora (C. Voc. bore), m., dawn, morn; replaced in M. Cor. by myttyn. In Breton morning can be 'beure' or 'mintin' depending on the region. At first glance it looks as though 'mintin' is a corruption of the French 'matin' until one notices 'myttyn'?

Tudor Ancestry

'The King's Grey Mare' by Rosemary Hawley Jarman, p.208 - Queen Elizabeth wife of Edward V is at Ludlow Castle with the future Edward VI, she is chatting to Lady Margaret Beaufort who brings her son's name into the conversation - 'I believe your Grace has never seen my son,' she said. 'My Henry Tudor. Descended,' she said proudly, from (wait for it) the royal house of France.' His Welsh Tudor forefathers airbrushed from history. Is there some small comfort they get out of pushing Cymru/Wales aside, is it arrogance, is it ignorance?; that is definitely not the sentence I was expecting, but there again.......

Contemplating

Went to the brewery this afternoon to sort things out for the re-opening, everything o.k. Had a meal with friends in Scaer, decided to drive on to Kemperle (Quimperle) to finish the evening, lost button off my trousers, first time for years that I haven't worn a belt, trousers kept slipping, drove home early. During my meal I heard something interesting, never really contemplated it "if the Breton communists had their way Stalin would have marched on to Brest". France was in a mess, the government allied itself to the Nazis, De Gaulle the self appointed saviour of the French nation called the country to arms, it was mainly the Bretons who responded, other Bretons saw their opportunity to liberate their country, Brittany that is; the free French fought against the French army in the Middle East, Far East & North Africa, De Gaulle from his offices in London tortured his unbelievers, other French who didn't see him as their leader; he was thought by Churchill & Roosevelt to be a megalomaniac not to be trusted while they worked with other French generals active in the field, in Brittany there were patriots wearing German uniforms, communists killing the perceived enemy, the Maquis bombing the German army and on every Breton village square the German reply was the machine gunning of the local male populace. The allies defeated the Nazis, De Gaulle marched in to a liberated Paris, Bretons were jailed, the more extreme either executed or became 'persona non grata', they had their citizenship stripped from them that ironically they never wanted, but their couldn't look to their own 'country' for help, it was left to the Welsh to bombarde Paris with letters on their behalf, some went to their Brythonic brothers in Cymru but were forced to move on to their Gaelic cousins in Ireland. Algeria was given its independence, much against the will of the military right wingers who saw Algeria as a constituent part of France much the same as Brittany etc. De Gaulle said that where France was concerned he was neither left nor right but above, and he never forgot his countries liberators, Churchill was vetoed out of Europe and the Americans were kicked out of France.

The Re-opening

I didn't want customers choosing their music, I wanted a free flow so I'd tell them that it's not a juke box, I preferred to let it roll as with dice, guaranteeing something new everytime, but on a shuffle, not knowing which was coming up next, but after the re-opening I'll allow access to possibly the largest juke box in Brittany. http://www.last.fm/user/BynTyElise?utm_s Tavarn Ty Elise, Plouye, Breizh/Llydaw/Brittany An uncommonly large amount of Breton, Welsh & Irish music together in one collection, but otherwise very eclectic and getting larger every day. It will be re-organized into categories and sorted for the pub re-opening as not every track here will be suitable for a convivial pub atmosphere. On the other hand, as previously mentioned, if it's anywhere in the collection and you want to hear it it will be played for you. When is the opening date? http://www.facebook.com/events/328239657292001/ Tavarn Ty Elise, ail-agoriad/eil-digoradur/re-opening/re-ouverture 1 March 79 people are going

The Merediths

By the 15th c.the Welsh were on the cusp of choosing the English form of surname, one of the earliest examples is 'Tudor', chosen by Maredudd ap Tudur for his son Owain; on moving to London he decided to change his son's name from the Welsh form of Owain ap Maredudd to Owen Tudor, jumping back a generation to Owain's grandfather, Owen was Henry VII's paternal grandfather so if he, Maredudd, hadn't made that decision then the English wouldn't have had that most famous of 'English royal dynasties - The Tudors, but would have been ruled over by the Merediths, can you imagine Mary & Elizabeth Meredith queens of England?

Jag

Watching 'Jag' on this St. Dwynwen's day, I doubt that the programme planners knew the significance but it was very apt and fitted my mood perfectly.

Happy! St. Dwynwen's day

For the girl of my dreams who has been imprisoned for life inside my brain, my consolation is that she can never leave me, BUT I wake up everyday without her by my side. Who knows, I might be doing the dishes or pulling a pint in my newly refurbished bar, I look up, and in she walks framed by the doorway with an aura about her, she joins me at the bar and catches my hand to take me with her on a long & pleasant journey, I look back and there I am lying on the floor motionless. It's been a long wait but we are together forever at last.

Fleeting Visit

Yesterday the sun called by fleetingly, first time that she's deigned to give us a visit since early October as far as I can recollect. I thought I'd go out today to thank her for her efforts and to praise her virtues, but too late I should have done it yesterday as she must have been in a hurry to carry on to farther climes, she's left without giving us any idea of when she'll be coming back. The last time I saw her was in Portugal where she seems far happier to spend her time annoyed less by her cousin rain who in turn appears far happier to spend his time amongst us in Brittany & Cymru (Wales), so much so that on occasion he asks his kinsman snow to join him.