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the 2k12 world choir games are being held for the 1st time in the USA. cincinnati ohio is the host city. this is a big deal and cincinnati is gearing up to hosts choirs from all over the world to perform and compete in all the festivities. i've been checking the list of nations that have signed up to date and wales is nowhere to be found! does anyone have a clue whywales, the country that prides itself on its musical heritage, especially the welsh male choir, is not participating? google world choir games to see what a big deal this event is.

This family has its own vocabulary, including 'cysgu byes' (go to sleep) and'tucky down day' (same as 'cysgu byes').

Harry and Oliver were attached totheir 'dinkies', (dummies), when they were babies, just as Ffion and Maudie had 'diddlas' when they were tired.

The television remote control is known as the 'dibber', the frying pan the 'frimpan'..

I was trying to explain to Peter who I'd been talking to one day. As a form of shorthand, I said'Surgical' and he knewimmediately it was someone who liked relatingthe gory details of pastoperations.

Pouring tea for a workman in the house, I askedhow he liked it. 'Strongish', he replied.

'Strong enough to trot a mouse on?' I asked.

When Oliver was small he put a chocolate in his mouth, brought it out admiringly and said a bee had licked it.

Thinking of these things, I told Peter we hadour own version of 'speakeasy'.Not a man to take things at face value, he replied that a'Speakeasy' is to do with the illegal sale ofliquour.

Whilsthe's correct, Ihave my own interpretation and it's nothing to do with drink, justthat we like making words up and rearranging things.

The way you think about words affectsyour feelings about poetry.If you must translatefiction literally,you'd be better off reading non-fiction, a railway timetable, perhaps.

Some poetry is difficultto understand, granted, but you can stillappreciate the soundsof the words. Nursery Rhymes like 'Ring a Ring of Roses', about the Plague,have lasting popularity because they have a strong rhythm and rhyme; the words in themselves are incidental.

But don't expect the poet to explain every 'pob dim' - every little thing;always remember:

'Excessive explanation tends to curb the lion in his leap'.

We have been married fifty two years. Peter is a good listener and I am a fast talker, so we both have our roles.

Peter was busy with the crossword this morning,one of the clues being 'Greek market-place', for which he wrote 'agora'. I mentioned the Agorawas also the venue forpronouncementsregarding the various city states and whereyoung men wereenlistedfor the army.

I'm not normally very talkative first thing, but Isaid the word agarophobia, (fear of open places), comes from the word agora andthe Welsh word 'agor', meaning 'open',must havesome Greek connection.

Laterin the morningI started thinking about our midday meal.Peter likes what I cook but, formost of the last fifty two years, just when I'm putting the food on our plates, he says: 'Not much for me'.

Today, I had a brainwave,fifty two yearslate. I called Peter and asked him how much he was going to eat. I was not going to prepare cabbage and carrots, potatoes and gravy and steak if he did not want much.

His answersurprised me and made me laugh. 'You know I always say "Not much for me" but you always cook the same amountand put it on my plate, because you and I know I will eat it'.

Iwas discussing poetry with someone who is English. I said that one of my favourite Welsh words is 'cydymdeimlad', which conveys not justsympathy, buta feeling of compassion,making a phrase like 'I feel your pain', seem inadequate.

He then mentionedthatthe Greek word'symbiosis', from which the word sympathyderives, isused in biology to denote a mutual dependency, sometimes of lichens or fungi, but always infers a close association.

So, if anyone's interested, I've had a brainwave: this is how a marriage works.

I was bornduring the 1940's, in the country, two miles from Carmarthen.

We weren't as cut-off as some neighbours, beingwithin sight of the main road into 'town'(what decadent deliciousnessthat word had for me,holding the promise of shops, cafes and cinemas).

Mymother baked food in the 'ffwrn' (oven) at the side of the fire. Vegetables wereboiled in smoke-blackened saucepans, just as in the song: 'Sospan fach, yn berwi ar y tan'.Potatoes, dug from the garden, were crusted with earth and had to be washed endlessly before being peeled.

All our water came from a well sokeeping things clean was a taxing job.(Sorry, I don't mean to sound like a frontierswoman, but that's how it was).

Many people have romantic images of country living, at odds with reality.

Friends of mineretired early, movingfrom London tolive ina cottage with land and a stream, near Fishguard.

Afterthree months, the stars in their eyeshave fallen out.The weather's turned cold, logs burn quickly in the stove, are expensive and heat only one room. Big weekend 'shops' mean a trip to Haverfordwest, because Fishguard's stores are few.

A feeling of isolation has descended on them. Apart from the estate agent who sold them the property, they know only one or two people.

We moved to Fishguard over fifty years ago. I am a country mouse but Peter, brought up in an urban area,is a town mouse. He likes the newspaper delivered, towalk to the postbox with a letter and, if he fancies some buns and a pot of jam for tea, he hops to the bakery.

I don't notice mudand cow dung on country roads,but Peter looks out for it and washes the splashes off the car as soon as we're home.I could live quite happily in the wilds of Preseli but he couldn't.

I've beenreading the unpublished 1882 Diary of Agnes Griffiths, to whichher granddaughter has generously granted me access.

Agnes Griffiths led ahard working life on a lonely farm in Bosherston, Pembrokeshire.When meat was needed, she killed a fowl.

Mrs Griffiths's life, miles from neighbours, shows howlocation affects the quality of our lives.

Most of my adult life, I've hankeredto return to the country, tothe harsh landscape, bent thornbushes and rocky outcropsof NorthPembrokeshire, but I've changed my mind recently.

After the last few winters, when we've hadheavy snow, I've decided that the town has its compensations and I shall be a day tripper to the country.

I'm writing about Agnes Griffiths tomorrow. No paper kitchen roll for her, she had cloths to boil and dry, towelsand her husband's working shirts to wash, thenBaby Gwladys's little dresses to see to. Some winter months it rained nearly every day and Agnes was very tired by bedtime.The dreary winter months were brightened by the occasional supper party she gave.

The latest edition of Ninnau the North American Welsh Newspaper prominently features a report from the Los Angeles West Coast Eisteddfod by Mona Everett on its front page. Also in the current edition you will find reports on the new WNAA/WNGGA Board of Trustees and the organisation's name change ( from WNGGA to WNAA ) AND much, much more.

To subscribe ( only $20 a year ) go to this page:- Ninnau Subscriptions

More about Ninnau:-

NINNAU & Y Drych is the North American Welsh Newspaper . It is the result of the merger in November 2003 of NINNAU, then the North American Welsh Newspaper, and Y Drych, the oldest Welsh newspaper in the Americas. Now united as one newspaper, NINNAU & Y Drych provides complete coverage of the North American Welsh community.

NINNAU & Y Drych is dedicated to preserving and enhancing the vitality of the North American Welsh community. To that end, we are guided by the following editorial policy:

* Endeavor to maintain the North American Welsh informed of local and general news and events of interest
* Publicize individual contributions to community life
* Provide a forum for discussion and individual expression
* Educate the Welsh people in their traditions
* Serve as a link between North American Welsh people and organizations
* Serve as a link between the North American Welsh people and Wales.

Here's how you can join us in promoting a vital Welsh community:

* Subscribe to NINNAU & Y Drych
* Attend a Welsh event
* Submit an article for possible publication
* Get involved!

On our way to the West Coast Eisteddfod in L.A. last month Gaabriel and I were amazed to find what appeared to be a large metal Ddraig Goch by the side of I5 in the Siskiyous. We took it as a good omen for the success of the event.

We were not disappointed. The event was indeed a huge success and we determined to take some pics of this strange creature on the return journey.

After consulting Google image search we discovered that the dragon, whose name is Penelope, is the work of Siskiyou based sculptor Ralph Starritt. You can read more about him here:- http://siskiyouartscouncil.org/registry/starritt.htm

Diolch for bringing us luck ( Penelope ) and inspiration ( Ralph )

It was heartening to see the warm welcome to the Wales rugby team as they returned home, having acquitted themselves brilliantly in the Rugby World Cup with a fourth place success. That's not bad for a country whose population places it at about number 140 out of 225 countries of the world. However, it seems its only during the 80 minutes of an international rugby match Wales becomes one nation proud, united and bursting with patriotism.

Unfortunately, at other times the events of history have caused Wales to be a nation lacking in self-confidence. Historians point to conquest by the Normans, Edward Ists bloody campaign and the various Acts passed between 1535 and 1542 which made in Wales part of England - at least, in law. This sense of oppression and being downtrodden has sadly been embraced by many Welshmen throughout subsequent years. This resentment was reinforced by educators who forbade use of the Welsh language in schools by means of the notorious "Welsh not" token where any child heard speaking Welsh at school was made to wear the token around their neck, passing it on to another offender if caught, and the last child at the end of the day was caned. However, it was never official government policy.

I grew up with my Welsh valleys mam-gu (grandmother) furious if ever Winston Churchill's name was mentioned in the house because he was said to have sent the troops in against the South Wales miners in Tonypandy. The reality was actually somewhat different but the point was that this was seen as yet another example of the Welsh being treated badly by the English.

For 150 years the mines and quarries of Wales North and South supplied the United Kingdom, the Empire and the World with iron, steel, coal and slate to drive the Industrial Revolution. Sadly, the vast wealth that these valuable resources created was not enjoyed by the miners, ironworkers and quarrymen that paid a terrible price in poor wages and working conditions with many paying the ultimate price in the many industrial accidents or cruel, lingering deaths through occupational diseases like pneumoconiosis or silicosis. This became yet another brick in the wall built by Welshmen of examples of oppression and was duly embraced.

Where I live in the mountains of Snowdonia, we are rich with a great history of castles and yet I was amazed that none of my Welsh friends would dream of going into magnificent castles like Caernarfon or Conwy because of the association with Edward I and English oppression. More up-to-date is the fact that most people living in the nearby town of Bethesda would not dream of going anywhere near Penrhyn Castle, because that was the home of the local Penrhyn Quarry owner who locked out the quarrymen for two years at the start of the 20th century.

I am happy to say that I am a Welshman without this cultural baggage and was drawn by hiraeth to come and live back in my beloved Wales. I accept the relationship between Wales and England would not be used as a model for contentment between nations, but I believe a major shift of culture is needed.

Wales is a country where we have magnificent cultural heritage, Europe's oldest language still flourishing, choirs and a musical tradition unsurpassed in the world. We have stunningly beautiful mountains, rivers, valleys and landscapes. We have more wonderful castles than you could shake a stick at, heritage railways that bring pleasure to every child and grown-up child smelling the steam and oil. We have given the world much-loved actors, politicians like Nye Bevan who gave us the NHS, world famous singers and pop groups. We have our own language which is slowly growing after long decline. We have our own Welsh Government which, for all its flaws, is becoming distinctive and confident. If we were to embrace all that we have as proud Welsh men and women, then the move for Welsh independence would simply disappear as Wales adopted its rightful place as a nation in a Union of nations, co-equal, co-valued and the envy of the world.

So Welsh men and women throw off those chains of oppression and being downtrodden. They dont exist any longer. Despite everyone and everything: we're still here - Er gwaethaf pawb a phopeth: dyn ni yma o hyd!

SLATE VALLEY MUSEUM RECEIVES $1,000 UNSOLICITED DONATION FROM LOCAL SLATE COMPANY THE GIFT TO THE MUSEUM IS DESIGNATED FOR ITS HURRICANE IRENE RESTORATION WORK, by Janice B. Edwards, freelance writer

Evergreen Slate Company, Inc. recently presented an unsolicited gift of $1,000 to the Slate Valley Museum to aid the Museum in its recovery work necessitated from significant damages incurred when Hurricane Irene passed over both Vermont and New York State. Evergreen Slate Company, Inc.s President Fred Whitridge and Corporate Secretary Bob Jenks presented the corporations gift to Kate Weller, Director of Slate Valley Museum. Director Weller expressed gratitude to Evergreen Slate Company on behalf of Slate Valley Museum . Weller further explained that the storm which ravaged the Northeast forced the Museum to close its doors to the public for a month. It only recently reopened, however, not all restoration work to the building, equipment and collections are completed. Weller said that over $50,000 in damages occurred which is far beyond what insurance will cover and that the support by Evergreen Slate Company, Inc. with this generous gift will help the Museum to continue the forward movement in its restoration efforts.Evergreen Slate Company, Inc. is a founding member of the Slate Valley Museum . The company was founded in Granville in 1916 by the Hicks family, a local immigrant family from Great Britain . Evergreen Slate Company, Inc. owns or controls quarries and production mills in New York and Vermont.Production mills in Granville and Middle Granville re not far from the historic defunct railroad lines which transported many hundreds of thousands of squares of slate out of this valley from the 1850s into the 1970s when roadway transportation became the mode of shipment. Evergreens sales and business office is located in Granville village. In addition to its membership with Slate Valley Museum, Evergreen Slate Company, Inc. is also a member of the National Slate Association, the National Roofing Contractors Association, the Granville Chamber of Commerce and Poultney Chamber of Commerce.Slate Valley Museum works to preserve and promote the heritage of the Vermont / New York ( USA ) Slate Valley and its industry which, historically, includes a tremendous amount of data about the immigrants from all of the nations in Great Britain as well as from several European nations including France , Italy , Poland and Czechoslovakia. www.slatevalleymuseum.org .Contacts for more information include: Kate Weller, Director, Slate Valley Museum , 17 Water Street , Granville , NY 12832 , www.slatevalleymuseum.org or Thomas Collard, Sales Manager, Evergreen Slate Company, 68 E. Potter Ave. , Granville , NY 12832 , www.evergreenslate.com .Granville, New York, U.S.A.

We've nearly been washed away in Pembrokeshire this week. On Monday, heavy rainfall gave usa 'high-alert' warning. Drains throughout the county were unable to, well, drain.

Peter hates getting himself wet while I like the rain, up to a point. The point is, cats don't like getting their paws and fur wet. Not thatI have a cat but, my daughter who's enjoying a few days away, has a feline visitor andI have been appointed asBarracks Commander, Quarter Master, sous chef or whatever I want to be,as long as the cookhouse isn't blown up, I think.

So that's Harry, Oliver, myself and one cat, endless meals, cat treats, cups of tea, friends calling, waiting for a meal, more food, baking, frying,toasting, roasting, 'eat it now before it goes cold' and all the usual exhortations.

(I jest, because cooking appeals to my maternal instincts and they are all very grateful that Ibother and want to help clear up butI don't let them - most of them havepart-time jobs to finance their college existences and are pretty tired).

Harry and Oliver make ablefoot soldiers untilHarry, being ten minutes older, asserts his perceived superiority.Oliver restores the status quo by wrestling him down and then things return to a more or less even keel again. (Though Oliverwas First Lord toRichard 111, filmed in Pembrokeshire this last summer, thisbrush with glory does not stop him from settling scores with Harry.)

Actually, Oliver chose a duvet daywhen they were casting for the film - the boys are exhaustedmost of the time, despite the 'power' protein shakes. Their 'playboy' lifestylehas its downside, (they've graduated fromparties in the Preselisto the flats of student friendsin universities in almost every county in the land. Student rail cards get them there, then taxis to and from the station - living la vida loca, or something that looks like it).

Now, as I was saying about King Richard: Harrywas screen-tested and chosen as a lord, butbefore he got his moment in the sun, literally, because they were filming on variousbeachesin the south of the county, he was called on duty as a lifeguard, a whole season's work, instead of just a few days as an 'extra'.

My daughter, as the mother of twins,isacreative thinker. With admirable presence of mind, she hauledOliver out of bed, rang the producer and before you could say 'tout de suit', 'immediatement' or 'nawr, y funud hon',sent him to St. David's, to see if he could stand in for Harry. They are not identical twins, but my mother cannot tell them apart, nor can many other people.Not only was Olivergiven the part, he was promoted to First Lord.

To return to my story again - (everything connects with everything else, if you want it to and I do): there's a newgirl on the block, an adorableblack, fluffy cat belonging to peoplea few doors away. There's a song: 'Keep a-knocking but you caint come in', butthe song is wrong about this feline. She comes in all the time.

Itpoured last night butthe cat hadto go home. She'd been inall day.When I lifted her up she purred butstruggled when we gotto the front door.I managed to point her towards her own dwelling and watcheduntil she'd reached the doorstep.

When the last of the logs had burnt in the stove and one of the girlfriends had arrived, we all had a cup of tea andwent to bed.

Seveno'clock the following morning I heard a loud miaowing, outside I thought.

Ten minuteslater, the landing carpet was being scratched. Somehow, the cat had made it back in. Fearing for the carpet, I took her downstairsand gave hercat snacks.

Later, Harry said he'dlet the cat in during the 'wee small hours'.

Breakfast for us was vegetarian sausagesand eggs, toast andtea, bananas and grapes. ( Note: vege. sausages are good for breakfast as they are quickto cook and don't make a h...ish mess in the 'frimpan'.)

When I went home later, it was pouring. The drains outside my daughter's house couldn't cope and half the road was under water.

A nursery rhyme popped into my mind: 'They went to sea in a sieve, they did/ They went to sea in a sieve'. Thinking of allthe cooking I'd produced in the last few days Ithoughtthat might be the fate of Harry, Oliver and myself, squeezing ourselves into a sieve. Then I remembered the cat. We'd have had to find room for her, too, I suppose.

Yesterday, we went to Narberth. Some of the shops were so full Peter decided to wait outside, though the wind was keen.

I should have, too,because mostof the shops were so full, I had difficulty coming outagain.

'The Maltings' is one of my favourite shops, selling vintage and antique nick nackery. It is composed of small shop units, belonging to different people anddisplaying jewellery, vintage clothes, hatpins, furs, evening dresses, quilts, sheets, embroidered table cloths, cutlery, china,chests, chairs, kilims, brass, copper, Sir Kyffin Williams paintings and all manner of lovelyluxuries. Imaginea souk,stuffed witheye-popping treasures.

I'vebought pink-silk undies from the 1940's, cotton sheets trimmed with crochet, pillowslips, silver tea-knives,Melyn Tregwynt blankets (one in shades of blue, the other in purple) and I've got my eyes out for a red one.

'The Maltings' was full when I went in, so I dived into one of the little shops that was empty. Immediately,a family of four adultsfollowed me, so I decided to exit immediately, by turning sharp right and squeezing past somehandbags, which I swear I just glanced at quickly without stopping as I went by. Know what? They followed in my path and stopped to look at the handbags. (There were three other corners in the room, after all).

I've noticed a pattern (Idigress) but, if I stop to look in a shop window, other people crowd around me.

Anyone needing to give their business a boost can hire me to stand outside and peer interestedly at the goods in the window. That should shift a few hundred pounds worth of stuffin no time.

In another shop, my gaze alighted on some Christmas cards as I walked in. I did not stop, but two customers,on their way out and noticing what i was looking at, fell on them, saying: 'Those are lovely cards, yes, those are lovely cards'.(Theyreminded me of characetrs in a Pinter play: 'Do you like the cornflakes, Stanley', or something similar). 'Adjectivally challenged' went through my mind.

In Narberth, wheneverI looked at anything, someone immediately pushed in front of me

I'm not a particularly private person, but I don't like people crowdingme. I've developed a method: if I like something andpeople peer over my shoulder, I walk away. When they've gone, I take a closer look.

Every shop we went into was packed. Yes, Narberth, or 'Porth-ac-Arberth as it was called in the Mabinogion and home of Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed, is a boutique town, each shop a miniature gem.

This set us thinking: what makes a successful town? Why is Fishguard, visuallya jewel, emptyon a Saturday afternoon and Narberth full?

We've decideda successful High Street must havefabulous shops, offering something different and the shops must be close together. (Shoppers save their energy for walking around shops, not to shops). Good parking is another requirement.

So, Narberth hasfour or morepubs on the main street,a newsagents, a bridal shop,a stylish 'ladies fashion' shop, a 'bargain box',a Spanish cafe, a bakery, a hairstylist,a cosmetic salon,a more general fashion shop, threeart galleries,three shoe shops, a surf shop, three grocery shops, a florist, a wonderful 'gallery' with handbags, jewellery, cards toys, bags hats, books.

I'll stop or I'll make it sound like a huge place,which it isn't but it's success should be studied. I heard a shopper say: 'This place is in the middle of nowhere, but look what it's got!'

They'd come from Cardiff for the day, eighty milesaway, to shop in Narberth.

In times like this, someone should write a thesis on it.