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Frost in the morningIce in the nightChill of the windSnow falling brightCrispness of airSheen on the landChildren all playingSounds of a bandJingle and jangleSkiing and skatesSprinkling snowdropsCrystalline shapesGlow of the street lightsHush of the darkSnowmen collectingMore flakes in the parkGreen of the hollyMistletoe funCream on the puddingWhiffs of warm rumChimings and carolsCalls of good cheerTrimmings and stockingsTime of the yearSensing excitementLights on the treeThe Wonder of winterThat is Christmas Eve.Ian Price 2007

You may have noticed the addition of a new ( and possibly irritating ) feature this morning. I refer of course to our Scrolling Marquee. In the event of vociferous complaint we will remove it after the Christmas season.Meantime we thought we might experiment with some tacky seasonal greetings and yuletide graphics for your delight and delectation. As you can probably tell, we are not 100% committed to this new feature. Please let us know your thoughts either by commenting on this blogpost or bombarding my inbox with bile, vituperation and spleen.

Now look here!It's all very well your Boer visiting God's own in abject humility but I must say I took the gravest exception to them presuming superiority at HQ yesterday . Bad form don't cha know.When I visited The South African Embassy last week - cheque book in hand - I believe an arrangement had been procured wherin your Boer was to take the same attitude he had in 1900 and quietly return to his farm in utmost servitude.I must say that the scoundrels reneged on a gentleman's agreement and handed out a thoroughly undeserved thrashing to the cream of English rugby. It's this kind of uppity attitude that sent Rhodesia to the poor house.May I remind my chums in the Broederbund that I have substantial holdings in De Beers and Rio Tinto Zinc and could, if I wished, reduce the whole Rainbow State to ashes within a month.But Noblesse Oblige. I have it on the highest authority that every man jack in the England side were suffering the most appalling flu symptoms. Brought on by the gals in my entertainment booth on the eve of the game no doubt.So there you have it. A mere misunderstanding.By the by I believe the Taff and those other sheep people had a ding dong somewhere to the west. Memo to self ' Must keep the colonials happy for a while'.Pip Pip.QWT

The Man
Chris Needs new book "The Jenkins's" can be found HERE.

Love is All	Chris Needs: Like It Is: My Autobiography	The Friendly Garden

The Interview
You've been a presenter or host with BBC Radio Wales on the BBC since 1996. For Americans, what is Radio Wales?

ARGLWYDD MAWRThe game in Cardiff had something of a pantomime about it. The Welsh responded to the Haka by adopting a stance that one usually sees on bouncers outside particularly seedy night clubs. Such was the macho posturing that calls were sent out for bromide tablets to quell any untoward coupling in the rucks.In the first half however the pills had obviously not taken effect as the Welsh went at the New Zealanders with the kind of fury that had magistrates sharpening their pencils and thousands of women penning marriage proposals in the hope of repeating the kind of sexual gratification they were now experiencing; hope and promise reigned supreme.In the second half it soon became apparant that the pills had suddenly taken effect as Wales started to play like a pack of prissy prima donnas who had lost their mojo in some particularly unmemorable back alley grope. The All Blacks on the other hand had obviously partaken of Ambrosia and Nectar; they swatted the Welsh with the imperiosuness of the gods.And so it remains. Fifty three years without a win against the All Blacks.Wales and New Zealand are famous for at least two things - rugby and lamb. However it appears that one of us is the lamb whilst the other farms it.

Check out the article! We're official!!!http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081120/ap_on_re_eu_eu_welsh_languageIf it doesn't show up as a link copy and paste into your browser or just go to Yahoo world news. It only came out on Thursday of this week. I'm excited about it as I'm aspiring to add myself to the number of people who speak Cymraeg!

It is the eve of Wales versus New Zealand once again. I've seen a few of these in my time including the game at the National Stadium where Andy Haden threw himself out of the lineout in a desperate attempt to be awarded a penalty. Against all the odds he wasn't sent off but was awarded said penalty which was kicked to beat Wales in the last micro seconds of the game. I was not a happy chappie that day.Saturday 22 of November sees another attempt by the Welsh to break a ghastly run of defeats that stretches back to 1953. It's drop your clocks and grab your socks time once again as Wales field a weakened side.One day someone is going to remind the WRU that the All Blacks are not the Hendrewen Dog Catchers or The Abertridwr Salmon Tin Dribblers Fifteen; they should be taken seriously.

Ceri and I read and liked John Humphries, "Man From the Alamo," about John Rees and the Chartist rebellion.

The Chartists were a political and social reform movement in the UK. Chartism was a movement for political and social reform in the United Kingdom during the mid-19th century between 1838 and 1848. It takes its name from the People's Charter of 1838, which, among other things, called for equal voting rights for men and election reforms. A major Chartist uprising occured in Newport, Wales, on 4 November 1839, following a huge march and protest. John Rees, a former soldier who served at the Alamo before returning home to Wales, led an armed group and had to flee the country after the incident. Returning to the US, Rees had been given a Texas land grant for his service in the Mexican-American war which he then sold several times before traveling west to join the Gold Rush in northern California.

Humphries wrote that he believed that John Rees had died in Hornbrook, California of TB in 1893. Homewood isn't too far a drive for us, just across the border into California on interstate 5, and we've often fantasized going camping in the Siskyous nearby and seeing what else we could find out about this John Rees, whether it really was Humphries' John Rees and whether we could find his grave. I've spent a lot of time online looking for any mention of it and cemetery records from that area and tonight I found a directory for the Henley and Hornbrook Cemetery, which lists what we think is him:

http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~casiskiy/Cemeteries/Hornbrook/Part1/hornbrook1.htm
"Rees, John Mar 4, 1815 Nov 13, 1893 Native of Wales"

There is no other "Rees" listed and no other listing that mentions Wales, although, there are plenty of Welsh names.

Hopefully, sometime soon, we really can go and find some more information about this John Rees and whether it really is the same.

And so it came to pass that Wales did take to the rugby field once again. The foe was Canada. The location Cardiff. The game was crap.In what is becoming the regretable trait of losing to South Africa, New Zealand and Australia in the space of one month , the Canadians usually offer up the kind of resistance that convinces your average Taff that we are in fact world beaters.So confident were Wales of a runaway victory that they played the kind of rugby usually displayed by a pub fifteen after consuming a barrel of Strongbow with Woods' 100 chasers.Altruism flowed with such vigour that one suspected the Catholic Church had sent Papal envoys out to scout for future saints and the Welsh team all fancied their chances of joining the elect.Canada fielded a relatively young and untested side that presented The Grand Slam winners with far too many simple problems that could not be solved; one could sense the All Blacks picking their teeth with newly sharpened knives just waiting for the next course of slaughtered lamb.Ah well! Wales won the game but impressed nobody - least of all coach Warren Gatland who was last seen heading for the exit with his arse on fire loading his trusty revolver as he went.

Speaking as a hard-core short story fanatic, I can honestly say that Lloyd Jones' "My First Colouring Book" has been the high point of my literary year so far. It's great to see a Welsh author who has so far mastered this genre as to be worthy of mention alongside Carver, Cheever, Maupassant, Mansfield and, dare one even suggest it, Chekhov himself.

Lloyd Jones is fond of referring to his writing as "scribblings". In this collection he has elected to "scribble" in a dazzling variety of colors, all of which are intensely evocative.

There are many fine things in this anthology. There is "Blood," which warns of the potentially cataclysmic dangers of "exotic blood transfusions". There is "Post Office Red," which asserts the critical importance of preserving a sense of mystery and wonder. The closing sentence of this story reveals the "moral" of the tale with the same blinding clarity achieved by Mansfield in "The Doll's House". In "Black," an intellectual atheist meets a lady friend at a lake near the oldest church in Wales. It is close to the festive season and they are invited to join the Christmas service. The protagonist spends his time in the church indulging sexual fantasies about old girlfriends and the female occupant of the burial plot in the pew beneath his feet. On the drive back home they pass a dark and sinister stranger on the road and he has perhaps the closest thing to a religious experience that he will ever know. "Wine" is a heart-warming "feelgood" tale about a devout christian who performs a charitable act in order to fill a gap in the "O" section of his address book. It contains elements of high farce and compares favorably with the best of O Henry.

Also not to be missed are the four short essays at the end of the book which describe walks in North, South, East and West Wales. As a South-Walian and a keen hill-walker back in the day, I deeply appreciated his account of a sojourn in the Black Mountains and his visits to Cwmyoy and Partrishow churches. Both are magical places and evoked masterfully.

Lest anything I have so far said gives the impression that this is a light-hearted collection, please allow me to observe that these stories contain some of the most profound and poignant meditations on life, love and death in 21st century literature. In a recent interview with Americymru, Lloyd Jones was asked about his future literary plans. He replied, "Maybe some more short stories?". We sincerely hope so.

In short, this book is a treat for short-story fans, lovers of literature and lovers of Wales. If you fall into all three categories, then it is simply a "must read". If you are buying a gift for Christmas, either as a gift to yourself or for someone else, you couldn't do better than "My First Colouring Book."

CS