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On 13th March 2004, the town of Cowbridge in the Vale of Glamorgan celebrated the 750th anniversary of the granting of its charter in 1254. 

The history of Cowbridge goes back to Roman times but its first Charter was granted in 1254. At this time, long and narrow strips of land known as burgage plots, some of which are still visible today, were laid out and leased to the inhabitants and the town was surrounded by Town walls, with four gates.

There is also a memorial plaque for Iolo Morganwg, the 18th-century inventor of the modern day Eisteddfod, situated in Cowbridge, where he had established a shop.  

Born this day, 1913 in Cardiff.

Tessie O'Shea - entertainer and actress.

As a young girl, Tessie was billed as the "The Wonder of Wales" and by her teens, she was a regularly performing on Radio Wales. In the 1930s, she adopted the name "Two Ton Tessie from Tennessee" and was a frequently a headline act at the London Palladium, also appearing regularly on BBC TV's variety show, The Good Old Days.  

Born this day, 1942 in Solva, Pembrokeshire

Meic Stevens, Singer-songwriter, often referred to as the Welsh Bob Dylan.  

Born this day, 1981 in Newport 

Ryan Jones, Wales and Lions rugby international.

Jones is one of a small group of Welsh players to have won three Grand Slams, being also captain of the 2008 Grand Slam side.  As a player he showed resilience to both injury and being replaced as captain, returning to become one of Wales's most respected players and a true warrior.    

On 13th March 1601 - Sir Gelli Meyrick, executed for his part in the Essex Rebellion, which was an unsuccessful rebellion led by Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex against Elizabeth I of England and the court faction led by Sir Robert Cecil to gain further influence at court.

Born c.1556, Meyrick was the eldest son of Rowland Meyrick, bishop of Bangor. At an early age, he became a soldier and became acquainted with Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, who owned property in Wales.

He joined in the campaigns under Robert Dudley, 1st Earl of Leicester in the Low Countries and went with Essex on the expedition to Portugal in 1589, two years later to Normandy and the Capture of Cádiz in 1596, after which, he was knighted and presented with the manor and castle of Wigmore, Herefordshire, which he made his chief country residence.

When in January 1601 Essex had decided on raising an insurrection in the city, Meyrick armed many of his country friends with muskets and defended Essex House. The rebellion was ultimately unsuccessful and Meyrick was arrested and held in the Tower of London. He was sentenced to death on 5th March 1601. He declared himself willing to die, and explained that he merely acted under his master's orders. He was hanged at Tyburn on 13 March.

I like being in the background but I have to learn to do otherwise. I suck at blowing my own horn or even acknowledging that I have one. So Ceri gets to be the front man and I just work in the back and make stuff and stuff.

I started a site for things that I make and do and I resisted putting it up here because it's either things that are already on AmeriCymru or have nothing to do with Wales but some of them are interesting and if you want to know what else I do in addition to AmeriCymru - here it is - it's in progress and not complete yet, only a few things are on it but it'lll grow as I have time to work on it:

http://randomgaab.blogspot.com

If I lived in days of yore I'd be making my will, packing my bags and preparing to go ona long and hazardous pilgrimage to Rome any day now.

Instead, the snow and odd burst of sunshine have affected me in another way and, instead of indulging in the fever of spring cleaning, I am refurbishing.

Ignoring Peter's 'It's fine as it is -I don't know why you're bothering,' I've had the cloak roomtiled in mosaic mirror tiles; I've not got the disco ball but an Art Deco glass lampshade. (If I could put pics on I'd post a photo.)

I've also had a new bath panel tiled with grey glass mosaic tiles and one wall of the bathroom mirrored, so now every time someone calls I pull theminto thedownstairs loo before rushing them up to the bathroom.

That's not all: heavy new curtains in the bedroom resulted in the curtain rail crashing down, thus requiring athick new curtain pole. Then I hada large painting fixed on the wall behind the bed. Pleased as punch with myself, I am, andI do like having a handyman with various drills and screw drivers about the place, (not Peter; he hates DIY).

There was a time when UK television was fill of make-over programmes. I particualrly liked this American 'House Doctor' lady who told dirty Brits it was 'chavvy' not to clean theirhouses. She wrought near miracles by telling people tochuck out their junk and scrub, scrub, scrub,as though their lives swung on it.

WhereI disagreed with her was over the 'pot-pourri' she was so fond of (the sort of stinkystuff available in 1 shops). Some fresh flowers would have looked a whole lot better, but I suppose cut flowers die and thewater smells if it is not changed each day and you can't expect a whotoo muchfrom people who, like Quentin Crisp, don't notice the dust after a few years.

I was ruminating about this programme with afriend andshe said she and her partner used to watch 'House Doctor' when they'd just got together andwere doing up their house.

When theseries endedtheylost the intimacy they had developed, flopping onto the settee with curried prawns and lager each week. No other programme cut the mustard for them like that one. Who ever would have thought that you could spritz up your relationship by watching others cleaning?

It was the day of the school Eisteddfod. The kids all had tummy ache with nerves, the teachers were wracked with cold sores from the pressure of trying to instil The Jolly Postman into four-year-old children, and the Friends of the School were flogging raffle tickets as hard as they could, whilst trying not to show the prizes - most of which had been re-donated from last year as no-one wanted them then either.

By the end of twenty versions of The Jolly Postman, coats had been removed and the doors were open. The cuteness factor of four-year-olds singing was wearing off and everyone wanted the toilet and a cup of tea. Even at four-years-old, the difference between the best and the pitch-challenged was huge. The parents loved the recitals and each one ended with a clap and the whispers of what was that one? I couldnt quite hear it.

As the performers got older, the songs got louder and the key was hit more often. Genuine applause would break out after an eight-year-old touched hearts with Calon Lan and another with Edlewiess. However, the biggest cheer was saved for the announcement of the tea-break and the children were released into the playground and parents were finally allowed to go to the toilet and given a coffee and a Welsh cake to take them through the second half.

Occasionally a child would refuse to go on, and everyone would catch their breath urging them to just try it , knowing that theyd feel upset with themselves just seconds after the next child was called. By the time the eldest children were performing, the audience were sitting back to enjoy a proper show. Recitations became a feat of memory as whole stories were word perfect. Some did actions, others swung to the beat.

By the end, the hall was reminiscent of a cattle shed with strange smells and noises from the bored toddlers at the back and the heat of two hundred bodies. The standing ovation was as much a chance to stretch limbs as it was of appreciation. But the general opinion was that it had been fantastic. The children had all been wonderful: the medals had been well-earned and everyone was proud of their children.

Of course, I was proud of my children too. I am also pleased not have to listen to Down In The Jungle or Never Use a Knife and Fork ever again. I was even more pleased to find that when I was helping to clear up, I found two unopened tins of Welsh cakes that hadnt been used: it would have been a shame to let them go to waste

http://lorrainejenkin.blogspot.co.uk/

I'm an American mutt, primarily Hungarian in blood, with Dutch and British (Heath clan, my maternal grandfather's mother, however, was a Price, which is traceable to the Welsh name ap Rhys, son of Rhys, thus making it in its origins a Welsh clan also).

My birth father is full Hungarian, mainland Hungarian on his mother's side, and Transylvanian Hungarian minor nobility on his father's side.

I have a strong interest in all things Celtic, regardless of origins. I regard the Bretons and Picts as the earliest British--hence the Celts were actually there first, (in the case of the Bretons, the Picts are, I believe, Pre-Celtic, not certain of this one)the 'England' name comes from the Angles--who were Germanic. So the trouble started in Germany--go figure. Grins

I am one of the millions enamoured with the Arthurian lore-histories, and I count them as Otherworldy histories rather than just legends or 'myths.' I regard the use of 'myth' to mean incorrect telling as an insult to the term. It simply most accurately meaneth 'story'--no judgement (in the sense of evaluation) implied as to whether it is fictional or actual/historical.

I've studied the lore-histories/mythologies of various lands, Greek, Cornwall (Avalon) and Norse, a tiny bit of Welsh, and Irish much more than any of the above save for the Greke. I don't put Roman here because that's a repeat of the Greke with different names.

My main interests are history, (ancient, Medieval, and Renaissance, primarily), especially that of the ancient Celts, the British Isles in general, and of the Huns, (I'm Hungarian), and those of the Middle East, and archaeology of all of the above, especially the first two, because that of the Hungarian peoples is a bit similar in some areas to the Celtic (the white stag for example, white is a Faerie colour in Welsh, and British faery lore.

I'm a Christo-Pagan with Celtic and New-Age leaning, and Elven leanings.

Any questions for me I'll be glad for to answer to the best of mine ability.

Hugs,

Indilwen

The WRU was founded on this day 1881   (Originally called the WFU Welsh Football Union)

Rugby was originally introduced to Wales at Lampeter College in the middle of the nineteenth century and in September 1875 the South Wales Football Club was created in Brecon, which was superseded in 1878 by the South Wales Football Union.  Then following Wales's first international match, against England on 19th February 1881, eleven clubs met in the Castle Hotel, Neath on 12th March 1881, to form the WFU (Welsh Football Union), which changed its name to, the Welsh Rugby Union in 1934, was adopted. The eleven founder clubs were   Lampeter, Swansea, Llandeilo,  Newport, Cardiff, Llanelli, Llandovery, Merthyr, Pontypool, Brecon and Bangor.    

The Llandow Air Disaster

On 12th March 1950, 80 of the 83 people on board an Avro Tudor V aircraft were killed when it crashed at Llandow in Glamorgan. At the time, it was the world's worst air disaster.

The aircraft had been privately hired to fly Welsh rugby supporters to and from an international game against Ireland in Belfast and the crash happened on the return flight in a field beside Park Farm close to the small hamlet of Sigingstone.

A court enquiry concluded that overloading was the probable cause of the accident and among those who lost their lives were three members of Abercarn RFC and six from Llanharan RFC, with both clubs honouring the memory of  the victims with symbolism on their club badges.  

On 12th March 2012, Roath Lock, the new BBC Wales Drama Village in Cardiff Bay was officially opened.

The studio is used by the BBC for programmes such as Doctor Who, Casualty and Pobol y Cwm.  

On 12th March 1984, the Miners Strike began, with a solid turnout from all NUM mines in Wales.

The miners' strike of 1984-1985 was one of Britain's most bitter industrial disputes.  It was caused by National Coal Board's announcement to close 20 pits with the loss of 20,000 jobs.  The National Union of Mineworkers, led by Arthur Scargill, responded by calling a national strike which lasted until 3rd March 1985. The miners were defeated but not broken as they returned to work accompanied by colliery bands and alongside their families and friends who had supported them throughout the dispute.

Born this day 1913 in Clydach, Rhondda

Tommy Farr nicknamed "the Tonypandy Terror", who is considered one of the greatest British heavyweight fighters of all time.

He fought Joe Louis for the world heavyweight championship on 30th August 1937 at the Yankee Stadium, New York and at the weigh-in before their fight Louis noticed scars on Farr's back - a result of Tommy's days in the coal mines and asked him how he had got them,Tommy replied that he had got them fighting tigers
The fight was a bruising encounter, Louis, who had won eight of his previous nine fights by a knockout and who subsequently went on to win his next seven fights the same way, was unable to put Tommy down and even though Louis eventually got the points decision, the majority of the 50,000 crowd thought that Tommy should have won and booed the decision. Controversially the referee had also seemed to have raised Farr's glove in victory.

Tommy retired in 1940 and tragically ended up broke, being forced to return to fighting at the age of 36 to make a living. He later ran a pub in Brighton and died on 1st March 1986, aged 72.

A musical based on Farr's career, Contender, was composed by Mal Pope, the theme being that his lack of success in the USA resulted from his refusal to co-operate with criminal gangs and crooked bookmakers in fight fixing.  

Today is the feast day of Saint Paul Aurelian.

Paul was the son of a Welsh chieftain named Perphirius ("clad in purple"), from Penychen in Glamorgan.  He was a pupil of Saint Illtud at Llantwit Major and a contemporary of Samson and Gildas on Caldey Island.  Afterwards, he travelled to Brittany, where he became the first bishop of Saint Pol de Lyon. He died c.575.

Born on this day 1944 in Bangor.

Tammy Jones (born Helen Wyn Jones) - singer. 

Jones starred in her own series on Welsh TV simply called, Tammy, as well as guest spots with Benny Hill, Tom Jones, The Bachelors, Dick Emery and Morecambe and Wise, before moving to New Zealand, where she stayed for over ten years, before returning to live in Wales.

At the risk of being deeply unfashionable, I'll say it: Ithink, ideally,mothers with young children should not have to work. (Where the bread winner islow paid or forsole-parent families, this isa different matter; so are motherssuffering from depression who have to get out of the house).

I've believed thismost of my adult life but have hesitated to say so, fearing I'd look like afossil, so why do I say it now?

During the seventiesmore and more women with school-age children startedtaking jobsoutside the home and itbecamethe norm butwomen, now,are admitting that it is all a strain. Using jargon, they say they are 'juggling' , meaning they arestruggling. Rushing young children to school beforehurryingto their own jobs is exhausting, without all the other things like buying groceries, cooking and so on.

Historically, and I won't lumber us with the past, the rich saw little of their children (perhapsthat's one reasons why they had so many) or maybe they lacked the nurturing gene.A poor woman who had lost a child of her own was employed to suckle an aristocratic babe.Later, the boys became 'squires' in the homes of the upper classes where theymet future brides-to-be.

Women are their own worse enemies. I hate the phrase 'heavily pregnant' but women often workuntil late in their pregnancies,saving maternity leave to take it after the baby is born. Whilst pregnancy is not an illness sometimes parts of it can feel like it is and there's nothing nicer than to take an afternoon rest.

Women argue that if they take too much maternity leave they lose seniority and money. I think we need to get our priorities right. Ifwomen are so avid about working, whyhave children? (Highly paid women often have six or more children. Are they trying to compensate forsomething?)

I have asuggestion forwomen whose jobs come before everything else:don't bother to have children.

There is a flaw running through throughwhat I have written, though. Ibelieve that a woman should not rely financially on a man. Never,ever, so maybe we'llhave to leave it to thesuper rich topopulate the world.

PS:

Shirley Conran famously said that life is 'too short to stuff a mushroom'. My maxim is: early childhood is too short to miss so let your childrenenjoy your company.

Yesterday was the commercialised day known as 'Mothers Day.' Justanother selling experience for shops, like St Valentine's Day (expensive evening meals, bouquets of flowers, chocolates, diamond rings, whatever trifles take your fancy), Easter or Father's Day, (more of the same).

Bank Holidays,Halloween, harvest suppers, Christmas, Hogmanay, New Year. If the date is right you can eat it or wrap it in gift paper, whatever it is.

I'm not against spending;I rather like buying fripperies and Peter long ago learnt not to ask 'Do we need it?' whenI unpack my booty.

To spend is to affirm a grip on life, a confirmation ofone's optimism, however sorely it may have been tested up to this point.There is something life enhancing about spending. It changes the energy of everything but I am coming to dislike Mothering Sunday.

My mother loves going out: she even studied a Valentine's supper menu witha view to booking a meal for thetwo of us(!) We did go out yesterday, hada lovely meal andwere given a pot of flowers each as a present. (Yes, I know, the price of the meal covered the flowers, but we liked the idea.) Then wehad tea with my daughters and granchildren andit was a lovely day.

What I don't like about Mothering Sunday is the hurt it causes to many people.Not just new mothers whose husbands haven't got a card or flowers but widows whose families send presents but live too far away to visit.

In an agricultural community, Mothering Sunday was the day whe farm maids were allowed to visit thier mothers and take flowers from thehedgerows as a gift. I'm not wanting to turn the clock back and there are those tough enough to not give a fig about whether their children remember them or not, but this is one occasion we could do without.