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St David's Day 2017 - AmeriCymru Events Calendar
Click anywhere in the image below or HERE to add your St David's Day event. Let's show the world that St David's Day is both a Welsh and a truly international event. You will need to log in to AmeriCymru to post directly BUT if you prefer you can send us details via email ( americymru at gmail.com) and we will post them for you.
A Message From Iwan Roberts of Y Byd ar Bedwar
I'm hoping to make a Welsh-language programme about the Trump presidency and his policies. What do people think so far? We've spoken with a few already, but I'm looking for other possible contributors.
In an ideal world, we would locate the program in California and meet people who live there - but it all depends on someone's story. I'm firstly looking for Welsh speakers who have something to say; they might have first hand experience with what Trump's policies mean to them. Or we would like to speak with someone who could take us and show us an element that might be affected by the new president. For instance: a nurse or doctor who would show what Obamacare means and how things would be without it or possibly its failings; a policeman, showing us the work that they need to do day-to-day; or someone who lives on the US/California and Mexican border and how this affects them (is the wall a good idea? Is the US dependent on migrant workers or not, and do they believe that US jobs need to be protected etc.?). Individuals who can help offer the people at home an insight.
We are looking for Welsh speakers, although if there are Welsh people with something to say, but who don't speak Welsh, that would be good as well.
I'm looking to make contact with as many people as possible at the moment.
I would be grateful for any help that you can offer. People can send me a message on Facebook, email me iwan.roberts@itv.com or call 00447789270021 .
Penny Lane and All That by Camarthenshire author Ann Carlton is a celebration of growing up in Liverpool’s Penny Lane neighbourhood during the 1940s and 1950s – the same era as the Beatles and Quarrymen.
Ann Carlton grew up at Penny Lane. Her father rose from a poor background to become a senior local government officer; thus giving her unique insights into both poverty and affluence in the city at the time.
From first-hand experience she describes the Penny Lane area itself, the squalor of the city’s slums, the treatment of needy children and unmarried mothers, the glamour of civic events and the cultural diversity of the city – including the writer’s own Welsh background.
‘The Welsh would call my unrealistic longing for my Liverpool home ‘hiraeth’. It is a feeling shared by many among the Scouse diaspora’ says Ann.
‘Yet I always knew I was Welsh’ she added, ‘My parents and all my grandparents were born in Liverpool but tales of Wales were part of my family folklore’.
Ann describes her family’s Welsh background and Welsh connections in the city including the now demolished Welsh chapel that overlooked the Penny Lane roundabout and the Liverpool Welsh Choral which was often conducted by Sir Malcolm Sargent.
‘Liverpool’s Welsh immigrants brought with them the Welsh language and a love of music. They went on to build numerous chapels in which they promoted both’ says Ann.
‘In my childhood Liverpool was known as the capital of north Wales. Every Thursday was Welsh day. It was the day people from north Wales travelled to the city centre by rail, coach and car to visit relatives and to shop’ Ann explained, ‘My mother’s favourite childhood photograph was taken on St David’s Day. For it, she was dressed in Welsh costume, complete with tall black hat.’
After studying sociology at the London School of Economics, Ann had a career in politics and journalism. She was one of the first UK Government Special Advisers and, for a time, a Western Mail columnist. She lives with her husband, the former MP Denzil Davies, in Pembrey, Carmarthenshire – a seaside village in her husband’s former constituency.
Penny Lane And All That by Ann Carlton (£9.99, Y Lolfa) is available now.
How to create a new tradition for Saint David’s Day
Gwenno Dafydd’s original idea to create school banners based on the Saint David’s Day Anthem. Western Mail article.
St David's Day: Let's get everyone singing the St David's Day Anthem today
Children from South and North Wales, Los Angeles and Patagonia singing the song in unison. Item originally on ‘Wedi Saith’, Tinopolis
Buy the St David's Day song (sheet music) here
The First County Banner – The Pembrokeshire Banner
First School Banner – Ysgol Cwmgors, Neath - Port Talbot. 2014.
Iphone App to learn to sing the Welsh National Anthem developed by Gwenno Dafydd.
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Gwenno Dafydd - St David's Day Ambassador To The World
Gwenno Dafydd is the instigator of the Saint David's Day Anthem (Lyrics: Gwenno Dafydd Music: Heulwen Thomas) which was launched by The Presiding Officer of the Welsh Assembly Government, Lord Dafydd Elis Thomas in 2008. She has been promoting and developing Saint David's Day activities worldwide since 2006 when the Saint David's Day Anthem 'Cenwch y Clychau i Dewi' (Ring out the bells for Saint David) was performed in public for the very first time in the National Saint David's Day Parade in Cardiff. She has instigated the tradition of 'County Banners' throughout Wales to celebrate Saint David's Day. This year, the first County Banner, The Pembrokeshire Banner, which is kept on permanent display in the East Cloister in Saint David's Cathedral, will be joined by two new County Banners, those of Montgomeryshire and Carmartheshire.
The Saint David's Day Anthem, which will this year be sold from the very prestigious Ty Cerdd website, patron Karl Jenkins, alongside the music of Welsh composers such as Grace Williams, William Mathias, Morfydd Llwyn Owen and Gareth Glyn. The Saint David's Day Anthem has been performed not only in Wales but also numerous times in Canada, Los Angeles, Patagonia, Disneyland Paris and the Houses of Parliament. Every year the Pembrokeshire Banner is paraded around Saint David's Cathedral whilst local school children sing the Saint David's Day Anthem.
She has created an Iphone App to learn the Welsh National Anthem and is the author of 'Stand Up & Sock it to them Sister. Funny Feisty Females' which had been described by Funny Women, the UK's leading female comedy community as 'the ultimate canon of female stand-up comics'. She is a Leadership and Public Speaking Coach and works extensively via Skype and even has some clients in Los Angeles.
In Pursuit of Saint David by historian Gerald Morgan follows the life of Saint David, looking at how the myths and traditions that surround the historical figure have come to be and how he eventually became such an important part of Welsh history.
‘His is a most remarkable story’ says Gerald Morgan, ‘Everyone in Wales knows something about Saint David, the patron saint of Wales – that he lived long ago, that Saint Davids was his home, and that the ground in Llanddewi Brefi rose up from under his feet so everyone could hear him’.
‘But who was David really? What did he do? The purpose of my research is to help people know about the many-sided figure who was and is the patron saint of Wales – Saint David – through the centuries.’ explained Gerald, ‘It will attempt to determine what we can know about David – man, saint, patron and legend.’
And Gerald says that there will be some unexpected surprises along the way.
‘St David was and is a man for all seasons. His was a shadowy figure who became a major personage in the medieval British pilgrim movement. This is a saint whose name was a war cry on the lips of the fierce Cambro-Norman invaders of Ireland in 1176’ he explained, ‘To others, David was a figure of significance at the Reformation, when some claimed him as a representative of Christianity, uncorrupted by Roman Catholic teaching, at a time when England was pagan. To the fantasist-historian Geoffrey of Monmouth, David was a nephew of King Arthur, the successor of Dyfrig as archbishop of Caerleon and then St Davids’
‘He became a favourite of the Welsh poets until the Reformation, as well as of Henry Tudor’ added Gerald, ‘Every generation has refashioned David to fit the times and he has survived in the consciousness of the Welsh people to this day’.
Saint David’s name is now given to hundreds of colleges, schools, clubs, business centres, concert halls and hospitals worldwide. He is celebrated in Wales and in societies around the world on the 1 st of March.
Gerald Morgan is a teacher and historian. After teaching English at Ysgol Maes Garmon and Ysgol Gyfun Aberteifi , he became headmaster of Ysgol Gyfun Llangefni and then Ysgol Gyfun Penweddig, Aberystwyth. He has published a substantial number of books and articles, most particularly on the history of Ceredigion and Wales.
In Pursuit of Saint David by Gerald Morgan (£5.99, Y Lolfa) is available now.
Newly expectant Father Declan Anthony Pod paced nervously in the corridor of the Maternity Wing of Llanelli Hospital.
The Year was 1972 and like every Rugby Union Fan in Wales, he secretly wanted a son to follow in his on-field footsteps and play rugby first for the Scarlets and then for Wales.
The timing of his Wife’s labour couldn’t be any worse, as on this very day, Llanelli were playing host to the International Touring Team New Zealand.
The Grand Stand ticket in his shirt pocket was burning a hole in his heart, as he was caught in the horns of a dilemma.
Did he sneak off to the big match? Or wait in this draughty corridor for the 24 or so hours the Doctor said it could take for his first-born child to enter the World?.
It had been a cruel twist of fate that had led to this situation, as his Wife’s due date had been the following Monday but her water’s had broken that afternoon and all the women of his backward West Walian village of Llareggur (that had inspired Dylan Thomas’ Under Milk Wood) had warned him that the child would be born on the real Sabbath Day.
Times were so different in the early 1970’s for men and the maternity process.
There were no ultrasonic pictures, no amniocentesis or health testing.
No-one except for God knew back then the sex of the baby.
Going in to the delivery room was unheard of and taboo to the local midwives, who considered that ‘real’ men fainting was just another hindrance to their work.
Dec had prayed in his local chapel for a little boy to carry on his Surname, which was dying out in West Wales.
Other than him, the only other Pod was spotted in Carmarthen Bay- so he felt a sense of ‘porpoise’ about the whole issue.
His wife, Blodwen was considered old, as she having their first son at the age of 40, which back then was pretty unheard of.
The idle tongues of the village doorsteps rang with rumours that the Dec was not the true Father of the child, but that the local milkman used to deliver more than milk to that Cuckold ‘Blod Pod’ around the front, with the Coal man using the back entrance too.
Although in Llareggur, the whispers had be kept quiet, as it was still legal in West Wales to use the ‘Scold’s Bridle’ to stop women from gossiping maliciously.
It was hard too for women back then, as there was precious little to do- they only had the Water Mill, the Flour Mill and the Rumour Mill to entertain them.
True, there was sewing, crocheting and of course, the Chapel twice on Sunday, but there was little else for women of the village to do- so they either became a scrubber or cleaned their front step.
Whilst having a dalliance with a gentlemen friend was bad, having a dirty threshold was worse still and considered a sin in the eyes of God.
Was it was pure coincidence that all the other desperate Housewives and Rugby Widows of the village, at 10.00am every morning (save as to Sunday of course)?.
Back in 1972, there were no mobiles, no facebook or twitter, the only way to communicate was over the garden wall whilst hanging out the washing.
Dec the Collier, continued to pace the corridor nervously, waiting for news of his child and Mother which was relayed gruffly by the Matronly Mid-wives, who seemed to hold the man responsible for getting their patients into this predicament.
This whole process reminded him of disasters at the local collieries, waiting for news of which of his Brothers-of the Dust had been taken down to the other Pit.
He knew he was obligated to ring his Father-in-Law on the payphone in the Llareggur Inn Bar to update him as to events.
They in turn would ring the Sub-Post Office in Llareggur with the news, as they were the only one in the village who had a phone and then the ‘jungle drums’ would beat and news of the labour flashed like a ‘wildfire’ from doorstep to doorstep for the women.
If he had heard the word ‘dilation’ once that day, he had heard it a hundred times.
It didn’t help his cause to continually hear how many pints of ‘Felinfoel’ Ale that he had consumed in anticipation of the big match.
He was feeling foul enough already.
Worse still was the drunken singing in the background which reminded him of a scene from John Wayne’s ‘The Quiet Man’.
“ Any news yet?” slurred his Father-in-Law in the request for the hourly update.
“ Ten minutes to go in the Second Half…he said looking at his waistcoat pocket watch …are we still up 9-3?” asked Declan getting his priorities right.
His Father-in-Law nodded which wasn’t much help when he was on the telephone.
He hadn’t got the hang of these new-fangled devices yet in Llanelli.
“ Any news your end?”
“ No… but there are two nurses in there now and both are busy with cold water and flannels!” said Dec.
Suddenly, Dec heard his name being called by the more masculine of the two midwives called Miranda.
“ You can come in now!” she ordered.
Dec said “ Got to go now….something is up or more likely down…I will ring you back shortly!” as he slammed down the receiver in haste and headed for the delivery room.
As he entered the room, he could see that his Wife was holding a little bundle of joy in her arms, all wrapped in swaddling white clothes and from the look of her demeanour, she had been through a real ordeal.
The Midwives had cleaned up all the blood and shit from the bed, so that the physical evidence of the struggle in bringing his child into the World had been hidden.
The only sign was etched on the ashen face of Mrs Blod Pod, which was masked by a smile, as she cuddled the reason for the pain that felt like pushing a coconut out of a hole the size of a walnut.
“ Declan… this is your Son… .meet Trey….!” She said proudly, smiling up first at her husband and then down at the babe in arms.
“ Trey….I wanted to call him Barry John!” said Declan.
The look from the faces of the midwives meant he was outvoted.
It was only fair after all that effort that his wife get to name him.
Even if that name reminded him of the man from the Dairy- Trevor who always seemed to call when he was in work or in the pub.
All he could think of with the shadowy figure was ‘Milk Trey’ but he didn’t want to ruin his Wife’s moment of glory- especially as he wanted to go to the match.
“ That’s for your tea!” she said nodding at the afterbirth.
He ignored the remark- even if he was starving.
“ All your Father wants to know is has he got ten little fingers and ten little toes?....as the entire pub keep singing that song!” said Declan.
“ Well, actually that’s something I wanted to talk to you about !” said Blod.
She peeled back the covers to show that the baby was in fact Male.
“ Look at the size of that thing….he takes after his Father and is definitely my child now!” boasted Declan staring down at the baby.
Hang on he thought….there are more than ten little fingers and ten little toes.
In fact there were 25 digits in total.
“That’s not normal is it?” asked Dec of the midwives- as he had only ever lived in Carmarthenshire.
“ That’s why I decided to call him Trey!” said Blod.
“ Not Jake?” stuttered the shocked Dec thinking subliminally of the Rolf Harris song.
“ No!” spat back Blod.
“ Nor Peter the Metre either because he has three feet!” continued the Wife.
“ How the Hell could this happen?” asked Dec.
“ Is God punishing me for all Triple Crown beer I have consumed on a Sabbath?” asked Dec.
“ No….Dr Ganesha has been sent for and he will explain the situation to you!” said Miranda sounding like she had bollocks.
“Rejoice Dec A Pod…. you have a healthy son …who in time will be able to run faster than
Roger Bannister!” said Miranda falling over the bedpan.
Declan was ushered into a side room so as not to disturb the bonding session between Mother and new baby.
Dr Ganesha sat him down and delivered the news. “Your son has been born with an extra leg and my assessment of how this has happened is that he must originally have been one of a conjoined twin but that the other twin did not form properly when the egg subpided but was fed by the umbilical cord and attached itself to the correctly formed twin!” said the Medic.
“Please be assured that such birth deformities, where I come from make your child special and an object of worship!”
“ But you come from Carmarthen!” said Dec still open-mouthed at the surprise.
“ In my culture, this event is a blessing and will prove to be lucky- as during his lifetime, he will be adored by thousands!” said the Doctor as if he was experiencing a premonition .
“ So he WILL get to play for the Scarlets!” said Declan taking in a huge sigh of relief.
“ I don’t know much about rugby…I am more of a cricket fan but he would make a marvellous wicket!” said Dr Ganesha smirking.
The comment was lost on Declan, who was puzzling about the effect the birth would have on HIS life.
“ But hang on….I have a more immediate problem… where am I going to nappies to fit
Dec had an even bigger problem, as he suddenly realised he had missed the closing minutes of the big game .
He rushed back into Maternity, kissed his wife on her sweaty forehead and the baby and shouted out before she had time to reply.
“ I’m off to the pub to catch the match and to wet the baby’s head!”
The look of disgust on the Midwives’ faces mirrored that of his Spouse but Declan felt that he had been through an ordeal too and needed a pint to restore the balance in his World.
Never the quickest on the uptake, Declan puzzled to himself, as he headed for the local pub with news of the new arrival.
“ What did that Doctor mean by a ‘marvellous wicket’?”
As he reached the Llareggur Arms, in complete contrast to the new arrival everyone was legless.
The Llanelli Scarlets had beaten the All Blacks touring team 9-3 and everyone was elated.
Only Dylan, the Pub owner behind the bar was sober.
“ Pint of beer please Dylan!... I have good cause to celebrate!” said the new Father proudly.
“ Sorry there’s no beer left!” replied Dylan.
“ What do you mean there’s no beer left?” asked Declan.
“ Don’t you know Llanelli beat the All Blacks 9-3!” said Dylan even more proudly.
“ Yes….but you must have some beer…..what about your cellar?” asked Declan hopefully.
“ I have run out….no pubs in Llanelli have any left….don’t you think I have rung around?” said Dylan
“ So what have you got to celebrate my new special baby….born to run on the wing for the Scarlets…not just two legs like everyone else….my son has THREE LEGS….he will be a LEGEND!” said Declan.
“ I have only one bottle of Babycham left, two packets of Leek and Onion crisps and some pork scratchings… nothing else!” declared Dylan.
“ Till is loaded mind you…mostly with IOU notes from your Father-in-Law, that he said you would settle up when you arrived!” continued Dylan.
“ Cheeky Monkey!” he said in a strong West Walian accent last used in Hinterland.
“ Well what did you expect?... this is Carmarthenshire after all !” said Dylan.
Handing over most of his weekly pay packet, Declan sipped on his Babycham, trying to look as manly as a Collier above ground could.
After all years of those of firing blanks, he had finally found one good swimmer in his family.
“ Where is he then? Asked Dylan enquiring after his Father-in-Law.
“ Ty Bach!” replied Dylan.
“ Give me those notes from the till , he might need some paper!” ordered Declan.
“ Nice Try!” said Dylan.
“ Yes….slurred one of the pub regulars…the kick was charged down by Bergiers in midfield and he ped over for the first score!” said a regular who had that afternoon changed his name to Phil Bennett.
Declan just looked at him in horror, as he had just like in the classic Likely Lads episode, ‘Benny’ had just ruined the repeat on BBC Sport for him.
He made his way through a tangle of bodies lying on the floor, that was like a scene from Georgie Best’ bedroom that Morning.
He found his Father-in-Law where all men should be, at the top of the beer garden trousers around his ankles in the outdoor toilet giving birth to offspring of his own.
Declan knocked on the rotten wooden door.
“ Bugger Off…it’s taken!” shouted back the distinctive voice of his Father-in-Law.
He knew it was him anyway by the odour and the green fumes seeping under the door.
“ Dewi….you have a new Grandson called Trey!” announced Declan proudly.
“ Are you shitting me?” came the reply.
Dewi didn’t wait to wipe, but pulled up his trousers and pants and opened the door.
He hugged his son-in-law wildly.
“This calls for a celebration!” said Dewi…” Your round!” he continued.
“ There is no beer left… you lot drank it all!” said Declan
“ All well then home time!”
As the pair walked through the village, news of the three-legged baby had already filtered through to the women of Llareggur, who didn’t raise their heads up from their doorsteps in shame, as the pair walked past.
There was no internet or social media at the time but never underestimate the power of West Walian womens’ tongues.
Forward a decade for Declan and young Trey was now ten years old.
His birth defect was largely now ignored by the village children having grown up with his deformity.
1982 ushered in a war with Argentina over the Falkland Islands, which caused a degree of concern for the village as some had relatives in the biggest Welsh-speaking community in the World, including Wales, in Patagonia.
Declan was too young to go but many of the village men had joined up, as there was little work in these parts following the closure of the local creamery due to competition from the European Union.
Declan’s colliery had been put on notice it would be on the rumoured McGregor and Thatcher Pit Closure List- as it was an uneconomic pit.
Trey however, was insulated from the rigours of the adult World, he was just your average ten year old boy with three legs.
It was however, time for the end of ‘tag’ rugby that had been invented by a Merthyr Man with an electronic tag.
It was time for contact rugby- or as Declan put it Man’s rugby.
Sizing up his son, who was smaller than average for his age, he spoke with the coach for the Scarlets youth team who suggested that he would be better placed in the pack with his special ability.
What Declan hadn’t realised was that his three-legged son was a perfect natural hooker.
Two legs to steady himself in the scrum and his middle one to hook back the ball into the pack.
Trey was an instant hit.
“Trey-mendous!” in the words of his coach.
‘Cloggau Gold’ due to its lucky strike abilities.
The Scarlets had never won so many balls against the head and having the lions’ share of possession meant they went on an unbeaten run for three entire seasons between 1982- 1985 which had not been seen in Wales for many a year.
They didn’t even need to nobble the referees for a change.
Trey was also handy in the line- out, being semi-skimmed and light with his extra leg, he could be lifted into the air just like the milking stool he had been conceived upon.
But Trey didn’t only excel at Junior Rugby, he was brilliant at athletics and his ‘Triple Jump’ broke all County records before him, with his landing in the sandpit easily identifiable.
And just like his real biological Father, he was also talented in other ‘fields’.
His speciality was spotted in Junior school and put to good use in drama and dance.
On many occasions, he had his frizzy dyed green and with brown drainpipe trousers, as he was perfect for the background as a copse of trees.
But Trey’s three limbs would not tree limbs for long, as he was destined for greater things.
Out of mighty acorns Oakwood Parks are born.
No sooner than his teacher Miss Fame had realised he could dance too, then he was invited to do the chorus line, and later the Monty Python Ministry of Silly Walks which was followed with great hilarity and eventually a handwritten invitation to join a dance troupe at the forthcoming Eisteddfod.It was then that the Cloggau Gold dance ensemble of ‘Legs & Co’ were formed and named in Trey’s honour.
It was a marvellous site for a proud Blodwen Pod, as her son danced in a production of the ‘Riverdance’ in wooden clogs of all things.
But despite his dancing and sporting accomplishments, life was not all a bed of roses for Trey.
With every growth spurt, he was costing his Mother a fortune in having to buy new shoes and as money was tight in Llareggur- in keeping with the people of Carmarthenshire- his Mother had taken to shopping in Swansea- buying a pair from Clarkes but then pinching the third right, right shoe from the white rack outside the front of the shop.
But it was much harder to swipe rugby boots and therefore Blod was delighted to have come across a single ‘golden’ Gilbert boot sticking out of a landfill tip like it was Excalibur waiting for King Arthur to come along.
It was way too big but Trey would grow into it.
Luckily for her, CCT cameras were not invented in 1985- and not used in Llanelli with the arrival of electricity until 2017.
Trey’s shoe demands were not always down to his adolescent growth.
He was also busy wearing the soles out on his bicycle.
Most children of his peer group in the early Eighties had Raleigh bikes with bold Red Indian names like Chipper and Tomahawk that had stopped selling in the rest of Britain in the 1970’s.
Regrettably due to his extra leg, Trey was unable to ride a convention bike and was forced to stick to the Penny Farthing bicycle his Father had used in the 1960’s to get to work to the Pit on.
He was now using his third leg and shoes as a braking system, much to the annoyance of his parents.
It was from this regular occurrence that an event in 1985 was to change the course of little Trey’s life.
Chasing after the pack of cyclists, as he was unable to keep up on his Penny Farthing and despite being warned by his parents to keep away from it, he foolishly decided to freewheel down ‘Dangerous Hill’ near Tumble.
He found out why the village was so called, as he accelerated downhill to speeds in excess of 60mph with only his middle leg to stop his contraption.
He may have been alright, if he hadn’t collided with that Council Workman cutting the hedgerows.
The Insurance Company refused to pay out too, as they didn’t believe the claim, as they hadn’t heard the words ‘Workman’ and ‘Council’ in the same sentence before.
Trey in the accident lost his leg and despite still having two left, he was unable to regain his balance.
It didn’t help that Declan had whilst his son was still in his hospital bed, told his son to ‘grow a pair’ and that he would now have to ‘stand on his two feet‘.
In West Wales, they were very unforgiving of people who had not suffered their own work experiences.
As Declan had been forced down the Big ‘Cloggau Pit’ since he was Fourteen to feed his Family, he had becomes harder than the seam he cut coal from.
At 13 years of age, Trey’s rugby career was over, as he joined the world of biped after the bicycle crash.
The hokey-cokey would never feel the same to him again.
But the Scarlets Junior Section did him proud.
They set aside a glass cabinet on the portakabin wall for Trey’s amputated leg with a sign which read simply:-
‘Cloggau Gold’- in memory of the ending of the Minor’s Strike 1985’.
As predicted by Dr Garnesha all those years ago, Trey had become a living Leg-End.
A chuckle for all you technophiles out there. The following is an extract from a tech support ticket I opened earlier today.
@ceri
12 Feb 2017 05:10:28PM
Here is the url:- https://americymru.net/**********
But basically ALL sitebuilder pages (including existing ones) are affected similarly. When I copy code from a functioning page I usually press 'Save Changes' rather than 'Close' to shut it down. Don't know why....I just do. BUT I have noticed that perfectly good code blocks on functioning pages will not close in template code or html editor without generating the above error. Of course If I just shut the page down in the browser the page is working fine. BUT I cannot click 'Save Changes' anywhere without the syntax error message displaying. Existing pages continue to display correctly but new widgets on new pages even though they are syntactically identical to existing ones elsewhere on the site ....will not save. Hope that makes sense.
@brian
12 Feb 2017 05:12:41PM
This should be fixed now. Root cause was that you had BANNED your own server IP address:
**.**.**.**
Which meant Jamroom was not able to "call itself" to test the template. I removed the IP address from the Banned Items module and I think that will fix it for you.
Let me know if that helps.
@ceri
12 Feb 2017 05:15:26PM
???????????????? Really....**** thats a first even for me! I gotta stop working on here after a sixpack of Natty Ice. 
Many thanks for sorting that. Please tell me I'm not the only one
@brian
12 Feb 2017 05:15:56PM
No worries - glad it was an easy fix
Never let it be said that we don't take security seriously here at AmeriCymru. I have posted myself on 'Clients from Hell' .
Listen to "Tough day for the Trains"
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John MOuse releases “Tough day for the trains” His first new material since the release of “The Death of John MOuse” back in 2015, which received plays and plaudits from BBC Radio 6, Radio Wales, and XFM. In “Trains”, John sympathises and tackles the big questions again, this time, the rail service. “Trains” also features some guest vocals from John’s children Maggie and Gruffydd.
John MOuse Selected Press & Praise
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“The blend of unpredictability, wit and sharp reminiscence contained within is the real joy of this latest offering by this highly original artist… a Welsh indie pop hero… reminiscent of a South Wales David Gedge” Louder Than War
“A Welsh Weezer… arty and not afraid of whopping melodies” The Line Of Best Fit
“Possibly our favourite new football record” Steve Lamacq on ‘I Was A Goalkeeper’
“An extraordinary piece of poetry” Mary Anne Hobbs on ‘Robbie Savage’.
“There is only one John MOuse” Tom Robinson
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www.twitter.com/johnmousemusic
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