Mike Jenkins lives in Merthyr and is a full-time writer and Creative Writing tutor, having spent over 30 years teaching in secondary education. The author of seven previous poetry collections for Seren , he has also published novels and short stories. He has won the John Tripp Award for Spoken Poetry and Wales Book of the Year, and is former editor of Poetry Wales and founder and co-editor of Red Poets magazine. As well as a blog, he writes regularly for Cardiff City fanzine Watch the Bluebirds Fly and reviews music for the political magazine Celyn. AmeriCymru spoke to Mike about his poetry and his views on some contemporary political issues.

AmeriCymru: Hi Mike.....your most recent anthology Moor Music was published by Seren earlier this year. Care to tell us a little about it?

Mike: I started writing these poems about 10 years ago, before my last book Walking On Waste came out from Carreg Gwalch. The latter consisted of sonnets, haiku, dialect poems and a few others.Moor Music is written entirely in open field, a departure for me. Although this is a new form in recent times, I originally experimented with this at university in Aberystwyth, where I studied American Literature in my first year and was inspired particularly by Charles Olson. I was even pretentious and arrogant enough to answer an exam question on Shakespeare in this form!

I didn't suddenly decide to choose this form. It may have come out of the glaucoma I was diagnosed as having and a desire to spread words as widely as possible. It may have come from sheer creative restlessness (a desire to escape the title of Mr. Oblong, as Welsh poet Peter Finch once dubbed me), as I relished its freedom. It may have derived from the actual fields of the moorland at back of my house, an area of industrial land and pasture long reclaimed by Nature, which we call The Waun locally.

At any rate, there are significant differences between my approach and Olsons, with his many found interjections and grand abstractions. I focus more on music and imagery. Hopefully, there a sense in which these reflect musical compositions.

They represent the confluence ( the aber) between the moors and music. At the time when I began these I was immersed in music : my son was an accomplished cellist, my older daughter played in a fine Welsh language band called Gilespi and I was greatly influenced by many tributaries of sound, from the jazz of the Esbjorn Svensson Trio to the fado singing of the Portuguese Mariza.

While music is a current running throughout the book, it never drowns it. There are poems about Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, Albert Einstein and the last miners strike, so it is not a concept book as such.

I love to read from it: the spaced out nature of the language does suit my awkward eye-sight!

AmeriCymru: You have also recently completed a novella entitled 'The Climbing Tree'. What is the theme of this work and where can our readers obtain copies?

Mike: The Climbing Tree is a short novella set in the near future. I originally began it by claiming it was in the Present Future Tense , but the publisher (Pont) werent impressed by this grandiose invention and I rightly cut out that over-complicated phrase!

I first wrote it as a stage play called Waste, which was never put on. Its written in the Present Tense from the viewpoint of a teenage girl called Low, who belongs to a gang called the Commos. Most of their lives are spent up an oak tree (the climbing tree of the title).

This near future is one of terrible floods and many refugees, but Low strives to keep the Commos together against all the odds. She also wants to retain the spirit of the fourth member of the gang , Oz, who mysteriously disappeared a few years before. She often talks to the absent spirit of Oz, her confessor.

I have always been a big fan of Steinbeck (master of the novella) and hope theres something of his overriding concern for humanity in this book. Low becomes embroiled with the opposing gang, the Astros, but there is some hope at the end, which didnt exist in the plays bleak finale.

It is available from the publisher www.gomer.co.uk or the Welsh Books Council at www.gwales.com

AmeriCymru: When did you decide to write and what determined your choice of poetry as your favored medium?

Mike: I began writing when I was about 15 and poetry was, for many years, my most important means of expression (think I wrote more poems than I had conversations!).

My parents were divorced, which was an unusual occurrence in the 1960s and I lived with my mother, who was very enthusiastic about my poetry-writing. She gave me a book called New Poetry, which included the American poets Berryman and Lowell and I related to these much more than the English ones. Then I came across Ted Hughes and Thom Gunn and their work had a lasting effect.

I wrote for the school magazine and won a poetry competition at school on The First Man on the Moon. I still recall the poem, which was very cynical for a teenager, with the phrase and trees still stood being prominent.

Now I write prose almost every day, as Im working on another novel for teenagers. Hopefully, this will also be taken by Pont Books, but I have no promise of publication at the end, so it is precarious.

However, poetry was my first love and will, no doubt, be my last. Lines and images come to me, often when least expected and I relish those epiphanies, which are much more rare when writing fiction.

AmeriCymru: You have worked as a teacher in both Merthyr and Cardiff for more than 20 years. How has your experience in the classroom informed your writing?

Mike: I have taught for over 30 years. I began in N.Ireland, then at a Gymnasium (Grammar School) in W. Germany, after that for 20 years in Merthyr Tydfil and 10 in Cardiff.

My experiences have played an integral part in my writing, both fiction and poetry. Wanting to Belong, which won the Wales Book of the Year in 98, would not have been possible without my background as an English teacher. It comprised ten interlinked stories from teenagers viewpoints and the school scenes owed much to my experience, as did the characters.

My poems and stories in Merthyr dialect were especially influenced by my time in the classroom. I have written two books entirely in this vernacular, Graffiti Narratives and Could Bin Summin (both published by Planet). Some of the poems take the voices of pupils I taught, while others are invented characters based on them. Single phrases would spark poems, such as Ol Shakey does my ead in (or, Shakespeare drives me mad).

The chalk-face has sometimes been very tough, but also a place where the most unlikely pupils can create works of wonder.

AmeriCymru: Much of your writing, particularly the poetry, is passionately political. What role do you feel poetry should play in the political process? How difficult is it to convey a sense of political commitment in verse?

Mike: Poetry and politics have always had a very close relationship for me, though never party politics, as Ive never been a party member for any length of time (2 years in Plaid Cymru and they didnt do much).

The very first poems I had published, engaged with issues I felt very strongly about. There was one in Planet (when John Tripp was poetry editor) about the conflict between boss and worker and based on my time working in garages in Barry. The other was in the Irish Press, a national newspaper in Ireland which, every Saturday, published poetry and stories (David Marcus was the literary editor) : it was called Rat City , dealt with the war in N.Ireland and was inspired by the First World War poet Isaac Rosenberg.

I do believe poetry can change peoples perceptions, often quite radically, just as songs can. However, it isnt going to reach the kind of audience which a lot of music can. While few songwriters have actually responded to our present situation of appalling cuts and deep recession, many poets have sought to show the human cost of greedy banks deregulated by New Labour under Blair and Brown.

Poetry should protest, harangue, satirize and empathize, but must never become propaganda or a simplistic denial of the other side. For example, I have written poems from viewpoints totally opposite to my own: one from the persona of a fascist, based on a pupil I once taught. I am a great admirer of the songs of Randy Newman, who is a master of this.

Though poetry can make a difference, I do wish it had more of an influence. In Wales, in gets short shrift on the media, except on the Welsh language channel S4C. I think its too controversial for Radio and BBC Wales!

AmeriCymru: Many of our readers will have been intrigiued/shocked by the recent 'student riots' in the UK. As a teacher and a politically committed poet, what is your take on this phenomenon? How will these developments affect your future work?

Mike: Student riots is in itself a pejorative phrase taken from the media. Much of the violence was actually caused by the police, especially with their use of kettling, a totally inhumane treatment. However, there is no denying the sheer strength of feeling has driven people to acts of violence, as well as the police brutality.

What has happened already is only the beginning and once the Trade Unions get their act together, the protests will be even larger and, possibly, more explosive. Once the cuts start to affect the majority of people, combined with inflation and unemployment, many will take to the streets and I expect the police response to be draconian.

I am heartened by the fact that university tuition fees were not raised by the Welsh government in Cardiff: yet more proof that devolution does work. We have a very different government here to the right-wing one in Westminster. This was evident under New Labour, but has been accentuated under the ConDem coalition.

Its hard to say how it will affect my future work. I write a blog every week on my website www.mikejenkins.net and it will become more topical and angry for sure. It seemed that most of the media were more concerned with the attacks on Charles and Camillas car than the future plight of higher education, where universities will go bankrupt and close for lack of funds.

AmeriCymru: Your poems reflect a concern with both 'social' and 'national' issues in Welsh politics. How do these two strands of 'radicalism' affect your work? is there, at times, a contradiction between them?

Mike: If I do deal with social and national issues , then it is primarily through the local ; the people and events and landscapes of the town where Ive lived for over 30 years, Merthyr Tydfil.

Merthyr has a proud history of rebellion (the Rising of 1831), of producing great peoples remembrancers like Prof. Gwyn A. Williams and also of its enthusiastic involvement with the Welsh language and fight for self-determination. Our M.P. for many years was S.O. Davies, who was a champion of self-government when few others were espousing it.

I believe that full self-government cannot be achieved without a combination of socialism and anarchism. S.Ireland has been proof of this: a country ruled by successive neo-liberal regimes and dependent on outside investment and regressive taxation. Without the control of our resources and industries how can we have any claims to independence? For far too long we have been a cheap labour economy, prone to the vagaries of the global market and abandoned by multi-national companies.

I am not a radical, that term was applied to Thatcher. I am a revolutionary. I believe in non-violent revolutionary change into a society shaped by sharing and sustainability, where people come before profit every time.

My ideals necessarily inform my work, but people are always at the centre, with all their contradictions.

AmeriCymru: Care to tell us a little about your work with the 'Red Poets"?.

Mike: The Red Poets have been going for 16 years. We can be found on the website www. RedPoets.org , where youll get a sense of our performances and also our history. We produce an annual magazine of leftist poetry and a few articles and translations. We have featured a few poets from the States such as David Lloyd, who is a Professor of Creative Writing in Syracuse and whose family came to the USA from Wales.

Red Poets used to be a collective based as much on performance as publication, but there are fewer gigs nowadays. We publish work by Welsh Nats, Trots, Commies, anarchists and even left Labourites. We are genuinely inclusive and also very open to humorous verse.

We were born out of Cymru Goch (the Welsh Socialists) and, in fact, a number of the original members of that political group remain regular contributors, such as myself, Tim Richards and Alun Rees.

I believe we are unique and the result of an amazingly high number of committed left-wing writers in Wales. We are very much in the tradition of John Tripp, Harri Webb and , of course, Idris Davies. There is no other group anywhere else that Im aware of, not even in Scotland.

AmeriCymru: What's next for Mike Jenkins?

Mike: Next up will be my collaboration with the excellent Merthyr painter Gus Payne (check out his website under Michael Gustavius Payne).

During 2011 and 2012, Gus will be exhibiting his work at various galleries throughout Wales, together with phrases and lines from my texts and an accompanying booklet of my prose-poems and micro-fiction. The artwork and texts are all based on Welsh idioms, phrases and occasional place-names and the overall title will be Dim Gobaith Caneri, an idiom meaning no hope, like a canary.

Our collaboration has been interesting because I didnt write in response to his images , nor did he seek to illustrate my words. What we did was to consider the same idioms, often coming up with different interpretations.

However, Gus and I do share many things. Politically, we have similar ideals; we are both learning Welsh and are both inspired, directly or indirectly, by the people, town and surroundings of Merthyr.

I am very excited about this and hope that my texts are a match for his startling and evocative paintings.

AmeriCymru: Any further message for the readers and members of AmeriCymru?

Mike: I would like to say thanks for the messages of support for my long poem Journey Of The Taf which appeared on the ameriCymru website. Its a great encouragement to know that people so far away are taking so much interest.

As the Super Furry Animals have inferred, we are making rings around the world.

Interview by ... Ceri Shaw ... Email

In 2009 we received the following communication from Mike Jenkins ( excerpted ) "Dear friends, Here is a poem which I recently wrote , which you can use on your site if you wish.". We proudly present Mike's poem below.

Jumping forward to 2018 we are also excited to include a short film based on the poem.  'Journey' is an Al Jones Weird Unit Film. 'Journey' will be premiered at the Cardiff International Film Festival on October 21st.

Journey of the Taf - Mike Jenkins

...

It begins in the centre of a mountain, waters breaking.

Nobody can say

exactly where

I come from :

parents Earth and Water

and the midwife Air.

Soon Fire, the sun

and everything

I feed upon.

This place of summits

called a watershed :

tears as light

stings my eyes.

I am just a stream

a nant, a toddler

finding my way

downslope, over the edge

of my mother

and with my father's constant

push of rain.

One like many others

till I start to cut teeth,

to haul stones

to erode the bed

and banks into a gorge.

I'm moving quicker

with steeper gradient,

my veins pulse

with the thrust of water

like a salmon at the point

of a journey across the world.

Soldiers with back-packs

and booted outward-bounders.

fight against my movement,

believing it's a challenge.

The children who paddle

squeal, splash and fling

their stones, sound like

an echo in my bones.

The Sun, my teacher,

comes and goes

promising destinations

and then, dips down low;

so any season

I could be bellyfull

or parched to a trickle.

Sheep sip clear water

heads bowed as in prayer

to a lost mother ;

or they're dead weight,

blood mingling with light,

soon a veil of flies.

Winding and wending around

scarp and spur

I reach a sudden drop,

a ledge of resistant rock:

the descents of childhood

then youth when greys

and blues and browns

become a frothing white ;

into the devil's punchbowl

and a whirling might.

Here secret swimmers come

to shed their many skins

and exuberant leapers

plunge into a scream

and come out laughing.

I am joined by others.

by brothers and I'm 'Fawr'

to their 'Fechan',

they emerge on the scene

demanding confluences,

driving deep into chasms

before we're all lost

in a man-made lake :

they term it 'llyn'

but it is reservoir,

a store of water

we are schooled into

( even in most vivid reflections

we wear our grey uniforms ).

I straighten, I widen,

my girth held by bridges

and above are viaducts

which span into another age.

Rocky islets - trees and bushes

growing from them - bring doubts

as I begin to be fixed,

my route determined by walls

and a weir which parodies

the earlier waterfalls.

Now salmon struggle upstream,

as I welcome the many heron

whose measured wing-beats

are like the peace I strive for

and the returning colours

of the kingfishers diving

like winged rainbows.

All this, as I am dumping-place

for trolleys, cans and bottles

like some cess-pit of the past,

some cholera-infested slum.

My parents seem so far away :

mountains aloof, quarried or conifered

and clouds that drop their load

then move on. They call me Taff

but I much prefer my Welsh name

(its what I call myself

and sounds like a stones edge).

Sometimes I seem to slumber along

all controlled by sluice and gate ;

sometimes Im far too busy

to notice those who gaze

like seagulls on the bars,

or those who cavort in heat ;

too busy with the flow, the downward trek.

I have too many shadows :

rail and trail, the once canal,

higher up the road obeys the curve.

Each shadow more purposeful

to traffic and trade;

I begin to wonder

why I move in such haste

and whether I will be

beyond it all, lost.

There are so many white weeds

hanging in the trees,

fluttering like flags of surrender

sometimes falling and filling

into tumours on my surface.

Just as cormorants are fishing

so I begin to sense the sea.

Silt accumulates in my bed,

slows me down after years

of scraping and scouring;

I begin to meander,

to waver across the floor,

the buildings start to ignore

my presence and there are outpourings

secretive and poisonous

which seep into my limbs.

Becoming sluggish, my murky waters

of blurred vision in the suburbs.

I try to remember stretching terraces

where the only vines were children

spreading tendrils of imagination.

The mud is gathering,

the flood-plains a resting-place

for birds on their journey south.

Anglers wade out to tempt

the fish with threaded flies.

I yawn into the city

past a parkland of lovers

and solitary office-workers,

I am broad and straight now

without the energy of gradient.

The grand stadium looms

as if it were a ship of state,

but finds no reflection.

I have almost forgotten

the distant mountains I came from,

the fact I am water at all.

Afon is a slow way of saying ,

it seems to suit me better

than the rip of river.

Already I can feel the saltiness

creep into my body

and seagulls mocking calls

hover then swoop all day.

At the Bay, Im trained and tamed.

On calmer days feel stagnant;

when theres a restless breeze

I begin to wave and voices

of my ancestors come back :

Once you were black, all thick

with dust like a colliers throat.

Once this was flats of mud

where waders and dippers

would pick for worms.

Now I am becalmed,

waiting for the gates to open,

where I will lose my name.

It is a different sun,

one that threatens to burn up,

to leave me dispersed

into the Channel and after.

A roof of slate, faade of glass,

the twirling pipes of a carousel

all bring back reminiscences

of pebbles carried, reflections borrowed,

stirrings under a waterfall.

It is night-time and the moon

is whole and crying out

like a barn-owl over moorland.

I must go and never know

what will become of me.



Mike Jenkins

Nadolig Llawen

Many thanks to John Good for the following list of Welsh Christmas words and phrases. John wishes it to be known that the list reproduced below is something that he found on the internet thousands of years ago and since he can no longer remember where, he is unable to attribute it. Check out John's recording of the pronunciations in the sound file embedded below. While you're here check out John's other excellent musical and lyrical contributions to the site. You will find his AmeriCymru profile page here: John Good on AmeriCymru

...

Nadolig  - Christmas n.m.

Nadolig Llawen a Blwyddyn Newydd Dda - Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

Nadolig llawen - Merry Christmas

Noswyl Nadolig - Christmas Eve

adeg y Nadolig - Christmas time , Yule-tide , at Christmas

bwrw'r Nadolig - to spend Christmas

carden Nadolig - Christmas card

carol Nadolig - Christmas carol

dydd Nadolig - Christmas -day

goleuadau Nadolig - Christmas illuminations

mae'r Nadolig ar ein gwarthaf - Christmas is just around the corner

mae'r anrhegion i gyd dan y goeden Nadolig - all the presents are under the Christmas tree

nos Nadolig - Christmas Eve

o gwmpas y Nadolig - about Christmas time

rhodd Nadolig - Christmas present

Siôn Corn - Santa Claus

corn simne - chimney

Blwyddyn o eira, blwyddyn o lawndra - A year of snow, a year of plenty

Chwedl a gynydda fel caseg eira - A tale increases like a rolling snowball

Mor wyn â'r eira - As white as snow

aderyn yr eira - starling n.

blodyn eira - snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis)

bwrw eira - to snow

cwymp eira - avalanche

disgwylir eira trwm yn y gogledd heno - heavy snow is expected in the north tonight

mae eira ar y ffordd - medden nhw - there's snow on the way - so they say

mae'n bwrw eira - it's snowing

pêl eira - snowball

anrheg - present n.f. (anrhegion) , gift n.f. (anrhegion) , gratuity n.f. (anrhegion)

anrhegu - to present v. anrheg- , to give v. anrheg- , to bestow v. anrheg-

dyma anrheg ddelfrydol i'r plant - here's an ideal present for the children

mae'r anrhegion i gyd dan y goeden Nadolig - all the presents are under the Christmas tree

Iesu - Jesus n.m.f.

eglwys - church n.f.

service - oedfa n.f. (oedfaon)

carol plygain - matin song

plygain - cock-crow n.m. (plygeiniau) , matins n.m. (plygeiniau) , dawn n.m. (plygeiniau)

carol Nadolig - Christmas carol

Yule-tide - adeg y Nadolig

gwyl - holiday n.m.f. (gwyliau) , festival n.m.f. (gwyliau) , feast n.m.f. (gwyliau)

gwyliau - holidays n. , vacation n.

Tawel Nos

Tawel nos dros y byd,
Sanctaidd nos gylch y crud;
Gwylion dirion yr oedd addfwyn ddau,
Faban Duw gydar llygaid bach cau,
Iesu Twysog ein hedd.

Sanctaidd nos gydai ser;
Mante ll fwyn,cariad per
Mintair bugail yn dod i fwynhau
Baban Duw gydar llygaid bach cau,
Iesu Twysog ein hedd.

Tawel nos, Duw ei Hun
Ar y llawr gyda dyn;
Cerddir engyl, ar Nen trugarhau;
Baban Duw gydar llygaid bach cau,
Iesu,Twysog ein hedd.

Mae Llaw y Gaeaf (Jenkin Morgan Edwards, 1933)

Mae llaw y gaeaf oer
Yn cloi pob nant a llyn,
A bysedd bach y coed
I gyd mewn menyg gwyn;
Ar adar wrth y drws
Yn printior eiran dlws.

Nid oes mewn llwyn na gardd
Un nodyn bach o gan,
A saif y coed yn syth
Mewn gwisg o berlau glan;
Daw dawns yr haul cyn hir
Iw troi yn arian clir.

Caraf y gaeaf byth,
Er oernii awel fain,
Am ddod a gynau gwyn
Ir coed ar llwyni drain;
Ar adar wrth y drws
Yn printior eiran dlws.

January 25th Wales has its very own patron saint of lovers. Saint Dwynwen is the Welsh St Valentine.

Brychan , a legendary 5th-century king of Brycheiniog had 24 daughters, of whom Dwynwen was reputedly the prettiest. She fell in love with a local prince called Maelon Dafodrill. Unfortunately her father, mindful of political advantage, had already arranged a marriage for her. Dwynwen was distraught. She hid in the forest and asked God to help her forget Maelon. She fell asleep and was visited by an angel in her dreams. The angel brought an elixir with the power to expunge her memories of her former lover and turn him into a block of ice.

God granted Dwynwen three wishes. Firstly she asked that Maelon be thawed. Secondly she wished that God would vouchsafe the dreams and aspirations of true lovers for all time. Thirdly she asked him to ensure that she never married. Upon fulfilment of these wishes and as a token of her gratitude, she dedicated herself to God's service for the rest of her days.

Dwynwen moved to Llanddwyn , a small island on the west coast of Ynys Mon ( Anglesey ), where she founded a convent. After she died in 465AD a nearby well became a popular place of pilgrimage. The well was believed to contain sacred eels and fish which could predict the success or failure of relationships. Couples would consult the aqueous oracle to divine whether love and lasting happiness would be theirs. Scant remains of her church are still visible today ( see below).

St Dwynwen's Church, Llanddwyn

After fading from folk memory for a time, no doubt as a consequence of the wider observance of Valentine's day , St Dwynwen's Day has made something of a comeback in Wales recently. Here at AmeriCymru we want to do our bit to revive and promote this charming Welsh tradition. Don't wait till Valentine's Day to say 'I love you'. Or better still do it twice!
.

Send one of our St Dwynwen's day cards here

Looking for pub quiz questions for your Welsh society St David's Day meetup? Then look no further. The Americymru Welsh QuizPack contains five sets of ten questions on the following topics:-

Know your Jones's?
Know your Welsh Mountains?
Where in Wales?
Dates in Welsh history?
Welsh Celebrity Birth Dates?

Just head to the bottom of this post and download and print the PDF attachment. The correct answers are underlined in the text ( all questions are multiple choice ) All of these quiz sets have appeared on Americymru but are not currently featured on the site.

For the Quizmaster ( correct answers underlined )

Quiz printout ( no underlining )

Within These Walls by Patric Morgan

Caerwent

 
Photos: 33

It was Julius Caesar who made the first moves to invade Britain, when in 55BC, he sent out a small expedition to explore the possibility of trade and wealth in this distant and legendary island. It wasnt until nearly one hundred years later however, in 43AD, that the Romans really well and truly got a grip on the island. Claudius sent 40,000 men to the UK, which provided the foundation for Roman rule for the following four centuries. The UK was never to be the same again. Roads criss-crossed the island, cutting through forests and linking habitable places together for the first time.

Towns and cities were also constructed, some of which can still be seen today. This can perhaps, best be demonstrated in the sleepy Welsh village of Caerwent, about 25 miles east of the Welsh capital, Cardiff.

Under its subtle and genteel meadows lie some of the best kept Roman ruins in Europe. Founded in 75, this was once a market town known as Venta Silurum. The Romans had reached the site in 47, by which time they had most of southern and central England under their control. But the Welsh proved a tougher nut to crack, the area being mountainous and ruled by four tribes. South East Wales was ruled over by the Silures tribe, described as having swarthy faces and curly hair. The Silures inflicted the greatest ever defeat on the Romans in the UK in 52, when they took apart a Roman legion and the scalp of the Roman general and statesman Scapula. In fact, it took the Romans over thirty years to bring the unruly Welsh to heed when Romanisation could begin to take place. The Romans had for years been using a clever trick of turning enemies into friends, usually by befriending the local tribe chief and bribing them with carnal pleasures. The Welsh it appears, were a little wiser to them.

By 200, the city had acquired a network of streets, with some twenty blocks and main public buildings. The population of the 44 acre site is thought to have been around 3,000 at its height. By 115, a Basilica Forum had been created, suggesting some form of self-government. Despite being one of the smallest Roman settlements in the UK, local legionary veterans were attracted to settle here thanks to its wealth.

Today, the village is a peaceful and unassuming place. Its layers of history can be found in the largely unexcavated fields that are encased in stone. The foundations of the city that once sat here lie largely untouched and guarded by grimacing stone walls, some of which rise over 5 meters. Small flowers now bud from them while farm animals chew at the cud, seemingly unaware of the history beneath their hooves.

The town itself is a simple affair. A main street houses a smattering of public buildings a church, a Post Office and the Coach and Horses Inn. Locals now gather here for their feasts at midday. Scribed on the blackboards are Todays Specials: Chicken Curry, Pie and Mashed Potato with gravy.

Two more fish and chips please. says the lady waiting at the bar. Its obvious from the casual slacks that shes wearing that shes expecting a hearty meal.

The other pub around the corner, the Northgate Inn, makes the most of its historic gardens. Excavations at Caerwent have revealed remains and everyday objects from the post-Roman period. Metalwork, including elaborate penannular brooches and fastening pins, have been dated to the 5th-7th centuries. These days, a blackboard shows sign of competition. First to 13 it reads. Game and winner unknown.

Down at the Post Office, a small red post box sits squat in the wall. Its GR emblem reminding us that Elizabeth has not been reigning forever. Lambs with their mothers now frolic and graze in the grounds of the Basilica Forum.

Despite the thousands of feet that have once marched upon Caerwent, the Romans havent entirely left yet. Their legacy is reflected in the names of streets and buildings that make up this small but uniquely historic village.

Getting there:

By Rail: Nearby railway stations: Chepstow, Severn Tunnel Junction (bus connection to Caerwent)

By Car: Take the A48 eastwards from Newport or the A48 westwards from Chepstow.

Nearest Airport: Cardiff Wales (35 miles away)

Accommodation:

Coach and Horses Inn http://www.caerwent-coachandhorses.co.uk/

Nearby Attractions:

Historic Roman town of Caerleon

Celtic Manor, host to the 2010 Ryder Cup

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Article and Photos by Patric Morgan

 

This, admittedly rather slim, volume is an absolute gem and deserves to be much more widely known. On the back cover the author enquires:-"Did you know, that at one time, many of America's most infamous criminals were of Welsh descent?" Not a proud boast perhaps but nevertheless there is some fascinating material here on the James Brothers and lesser known but equally malevolent scoundrels like Issac Davis.

Fortunately the book does not concern itself solely with these superstar desperadoes, colorful though they may be. There are short sections here on Welsh cowboys, ranchers, prospectors, miners and railway workers all of whom played their part in the building of the West.

The real strength of this volume is that it treats of characters who did not make it into the history books. You will find no Wikipedia entry for John Reynolds Hughes who single-handedly tracked and subdued two gangs of murderous cattle-rustlers before deciding to do it professionally and joining the Texas Rangers. Likewise, history does not record much about the exploits of Jack Farmer - railroad pioneer, who successfully treated his rheumatism with Kentucky Bourbon whilst surveying in the Rockies.

Published by Y Lolfa at $12 (approx) this book is an excellent introduction to the Wild Welsh in the old West.