Blogs

Born on this day 1936 in Rhuddlan.

Philip Jones Griffiths - a photojournalist. known for his coverage of the Vietnam war, which helped turn public opinion against it and is now regarded as a classic series of photojournalism.  

Born on this day 1901 in Bedwellty, Monmouthshire

William James Owen - a miner and politician, whose parliamentary career was ended with his trial under the Official Secrets Act for giving state secrets to Czechoslovakia.  

Born this day 1967, in Cardiff

Colin Jackson, CBE is a Welsh former athlete who won an Olympic silver medal at the 1988 games in Seoul for the 110 m hurdles and became world champion three times,  His world record of 12.91 seconds stood for over a decade.  He now works as a sports commentator and television presenter and came second in the BBC's Strictly Come Dancing in 2005.   He is the brother of actress Suzanne Packer who stars in the BBC hospital drama Casualty.  

Born this day 1899, in Pembroke

Mervyn Johns, an actor who appeared regularly in the films of the Ealing Studios.  He also made many television appearances, such as  in The Avengers, Danger Man and Dixon of Dock Green.  

Born this day 1900, in Neath. 

Cecil "CR" Griffiths, who won an Olympic Gold medal at the 1920 Antwerp Olympics, running the opening leg for the victorious British 4×400 metre relay team. 

Griffiths was not able to compete in the 1924 Games in Paris, as he had been reported for accepting a fee for running in an exhibition race, meaning that he was no longer an amateur.

James Morgan (1776– 18 February 1856) was an architect and engineer, notably associated with the construction of the Regent's Canal in London.

Morgan is thought to have been born in Carmarthen, where he became employed by architect John Nash as an engineer in the building of Regent's Park and Regent's Canal across Central London.   Morgan subsequently designed and supervised the building of bridges, tunnels and docks with perhaps his most notable achievements being the Maida Hill and Islington tunnels.

Eli J. Finkel is not a name I am familiar with. An American psychology professor he's an expert on successful marriages and has written a book about it.

The path to true happiness liesin going overold arguments, apparently. (Yes, I think I've got that right.)Analysing the disagreements will reveal the cause of them. Sounds good, yah! Not your averagefun- guy,perhaps, buthe has statistics behind him.

I know someonesimilar to him, though.Any family disagreement is recordedin her diary so, if the matter is brought up again, she 'knows exactly' who said what.(I don't know what herhobbies are).

Peter and I never analysed our arguments - I doubt we could haverememebered them, anyway, and I have always held to the dictum"Bury the Bones".Although we do not think alike in any way, we rarely disagree. It might bebecause we know each other's views on things.

Despite the fact everything was stacked against us: I was very young, (sixteen), my parents were divorced, Peter was an only child and he was nine years older than me, we have survived. Studies carried out on these factorspointto a white knuckle ride that can only end in disaster.

We are two very different people. (If Peter banged his head on something, my first reaction would be to laugh, because that's how I am. If I banged my head, he'd worry that my brain had stuck to my skull or something equally awful.We cannot change our personalities. He's an introvert but I am Pisces andcan be quiet or gregarious.

So what steered us away from divorce, apart from the obvious things like love and attraction?

I remember one incident, which he has forgotten, butwhich was pivotal for me. We had been married two years and were invited to adinner/ dance.I wanted to go, he did not (he hates that type of thing). I can't rememberwhat I said but I was annoyed.

Later that evening I feltworried about what I'd said and asked him if he was going to divorce me because of it.

He wasastonished and saidhe would never divorce me, no matter whatI said or did. 'And don't mentiondivorce again', he added, 'we've only had a disagreement.'

Although we'd promised for 'ever and ever' when we married I did know, young as I was, that things went wrong for people far more mature than myself.

Peter'swords were like a renewal of our weddingvows after we'd 'road- tested' our marriage. Theygave methe security to express my opinions without fear.Ialso understood that ifwe disagreedwe were able to come toa compromiseabout it.Both sides give a little, yes?

On this day 1912 Edgar Evans perished on the return journey from the South Pole

Edgar Evans was born at Middleton on Gower on the 7th March 1876. He attended St. Helen's Boys School before joining the Royal Navy in 1891, at the age of fifteen. His first experience of polar exploration was between 1901-04 when he joined the National Antarctic Expedition whose brief was to seek out mineral wealth for the British Empire. The officer in command, Captain R.F.Scott was so impressed with Evans' ingenuity, strength and courage that he invited him to join the British Antarctic Expedition's attempt to reach the South Pole (1910-13).

The five-man team reached the Pole on 17th January, 1912 only to discover that  Amundsen had beaten them to it.  Demoralised and suffering from the effects of a poor diet and inadequate equipment, the team perished on the return journey, Edgar Evans was the first to die. His widow, Lois, had a plaque placed, in his memory, in the church at Rhossili and Evans is also remembered at the naval shore establishment on Whale Island, Portsmouth, where the Edgar Evans Building was the first to be named after a petty officer rather than an admiral.

Born this day 1944, in Penclawdd, Gower

Karl Jenkins, CBE, musician and composer.

Jenkins, who began his musical career with the National Youth Orchestra of Wales, went on to to study music at Cardiff University and the Royal Academy of Music.  He was known in his early career as a jazz musician, playing saxaphone, keyboards and oboe.

 His album "Adiemus: Songs of Sanctuary" was No.1 in the classical album charts and "The Armed Man" was listed as No. 1 in Classic FM's "Top 10 by living composers".   Jenkins is a fellow and an associate of the Royal Academy of Music, joint president of the British Double Reed Society and Patron of the International Choral Music Society.

Jenkins has also created several pieces of music for advertising and is best known in that field for composing the music for Levi's Jeans and Renault's  "Papa, Nicole, advertisements. 

Born on this day 1919 in Wardley, Tyne and Wear.

Jonah Jones - respected artist who worked in many media including slate, stone and stained and leaded glass, he also produced bronze busts and painted watercolours.

Although born in North East England, Jones is widely associated with Wales, as his father was of Welsh descent and he spent over 50 years working and living in Wales.  His  work was also greatly influenced by Welsh themes, such as the Mabinogion  and the landscape of North Wales.

Jones is perhaps best remembered as a lettering artist, with his intricately carved inscriptions in Westminster Abbey for David Lloyd George and Dylan Thomas, good examples.

On 17th February 1976 - Operation Julie was launched at a meeting in Brecon, involving a number of chief constables and senior drug squad officers.  It eventually resulted in the break-up of one of the largest LSD manufacturing operations in the world.

The subsequent drugs raid in 1977 on an LSD factory in mid-Wales discovered six million tabs, which was the largest stash of illegal drugs ever found and resulted in dozens of people being arrested. 

There's a new homework 'guru' attracting publicity in the papers at the moment, Noel Janis-Norton. Shehas rules that help pupilsknuckle down totheir homework. In three weeks she can re-set bad habits, apparently.

The expert wants an hour's homeworka night for junior children, which I think excessive. Half an hour is surelyplenty after a day in school. Older children do have to work harder butI don't agree with week-end homework for any one.The rules include parental guidance and involvemen.

(This remindsme ofwhen I was inthe third form. My mother'sfriend reeled off all her daughter's exam marks from memory and thenmy mother asked me how I'd done in Latin.I toldher I'd 'dropped' it at the end of the first year and opted forFrench becauseI found iteasier. Ah, well, no harm done.)

I used to teacha Creative Writing module attended by (grown-up) students.The first time we met I asked themabout their aims and what they hoped to achieve. Then I showed themsamples of famous writers' work and askedif Icould see some oftheir workthe followingweek. This request was met withhurt and surprised looks. I soon discovered they disliked actually writing and sowe had to do it in class. Idon't know what they had expected- (a night out with a cup of tea, the warden told me.)

The class wasin a Portacabin and one night there was a parents' evening in the school to which we were attached. I'd seen parents rushing into the school eagerly and recognised some from years ago, the very ones who had shown no interest as pupils but were brimming with hope and expectations for their children.

The paradox with some parents is, that while they did not enjoy school themselves, they look to their children to give them a sort of second chance, even becoming 'pushy' parents.

My two children had different attitudes to homework. My older daughterwas a worrier and I had to tell her to put her books away. We both enjoyed poetry, not always school work, andwe often read a poem together atnight. I particularly liked'In Xanadu did Kubla Khana pleasure dome decree'.

My younger daughter's approach was different. Homework was tackled lying on the carpet, books in front of her,watching television. There was no poetry. She held to the opinion that there was no need for a long word when a short one was adequate. (I think she had a notebook with that inscription on it and it suited her style admirably.)

Whenexam revision was necessary we used a baby intercom, from her bedroom to mine. I'd get a buzz on the intercom to alert me to start asking the questions. In this way Ilearnt quite a bit about Boudicca, the warrior queen.

How to do I pronounce, phonetically, the word Ychwanegol?

My website is North Wales Extra which, according to my website translation tool it's called North Wales Additional, which I don't mind as it means the same thing, but saying the word ' Ychwanegol' is a tough one.

But I would like to know how to pronounce my own website name! uch I get, I get uch, but wanegol loses me. Is it wane gol, wan-egg-ol, wan-ey-gol?

I can do all the ch's and ll's but phonetics is my issue. The full phrase is 'Gogledd Cymru Ychwanegol.' Can I be helped or am I past redemption?

Diolch in advance.

Born this day 1922 in Cilfynydd.

Sir Geraint Evans - world famous operatic baritone. 

Geraint Evans started work at the age of 14 as errand-boy for a ladies' outfitter in Pontypridd, whilst taking singing lessons in Cardiff.  During the war he served  as a radio mechanic and afterwards launched his singing career, by joining the Covent Garden Opera Company in 1948.  In 1959 he began a 24-year association with the San Francisco Opera and then in 1961 an equally fruitful connection with the Chicago Lyric Opera, he was made a Knight Bachelor in 1969.  His greatest strength was said to be his ability to bring to life, uninspiring charcters with comic genius.  

On this day 1953, Usk castle was made a Grade I listed building

Usk castle is situated on a site that the Romans established a fortress before moving it to Caerleon.  The castle was thought to have been laid out by the Norman Marcher Lord, Richard Fitz Gilbert de Clare in 1120 in an attempt to control the newly taken area.  The Welsh, however, took the castle in 1138, 1174, 1184 and again in 1233 by an alliance of Richard Marshall and Llywelyn the Great.

 The rebellion of Owain Glyndwr brought significant conflict to the area as the town of Usk was burnt in 1402 and 1405, but the castle held out.  After the rebellion, the castle passed to the Duchy of Lancaster and no further redevelopment or refortification was undertaken.  

Born this day 1950, in Nairobi

Peter Hain, former MP for Neath and Secretary of State for Wales since 1991, who served as a minister for Tony Blair and Gordon Brown.  Hain came to the UK from South Africa as a teenager, where he was a noted anti-apartheid campaigner in the 1970s.   

Born on this day 1859 at Cefnddwysarn near Bala.

Thomas Edward Ellis , usually known as T. E. Ellis, who was a politician and the leader of Cymru Fydd, a movement aimed at gaining home rule for Wales.

T. E. Ellis  attended Bala Grammar School, the University of Wales, Aberystwyth and New College, Oxford, graduating in history in 1884.

On leaving Oxford, Ellis briefly went into journalism, before becoming private secretary to Liberal MP John Brunner.  This took him to London and drew him closer to a political life and in 1886 he became Liberal MP for the Merionethshire constituency.

Ellis quickly became prominent as a spokesman for Welsh concerns and became the leader of the Cymru Fydd movement, working with Lloyd George to try and establish Home Rule for Wales.  In 1892 when Gladstone formed a new administration, Ellis became Chief Whip, which meant that he had to withdraw from Cymru Fydd, whose leadership was taken over by Lloyd George and John Herbert Lewis (MP for Flint Boroughs).

From the Barkeep's Blog

Today, an asteroid wrongly named 2012, or maybe it is just late and should have been here last year, came an astonishingly close 17,200 miles from the earth. No- not 27,700kilometres (You may understand this decision if you have seen my previous missives...).

This evening, I am reliably informed, I should be able to look up into the night sky and somewhere near the plough see the passing of 2012. I thought that was a wish of my last New Years Eve, but I can understand that in these days of science fiction, there are many ways of seeing the passing of an era.
No, the night sky, which is actually quite clear this evening, should divulge some indication of the passing of an object universally measured as "the size of an Olympic swimming pool" to those with binoculars or small telescope. I do not intend to here dilate upon yet another system of measurement.

Well Susie has found our old binoculars in the mire and dust at the top of the basement stairs, and an hour washing and wiping have left them pristine and glistening. A nasty scare on the BBC News that the meteor had already passed Australia is put in its place as a mere rumour and the schedule is still that 2012 will pass over Llanelli between 9pm and 10pm this evening.

However, on the same day, no-one seems to have seen the link between this close passover and the real disaster in the Urals today, where a shooting star fell to earth, witnessed by so many vid cams and mobile phones, striking a frozen lake and injuring 950 people ( the current figure at 8.50pm )

Okay - the injuries are mainly cuts and bruises and the result of shattered glass, but video shows the shock wave knocking people over. The Street CCTV shows the glow as the "thing" passes - lighting up the sky. Mr Putin, the body builder leader of the metamorphosis of the USSR, promises help and Russian television is full of scared schoolchildren and Vox Pox.

However, I am totally surprised by the the lack of recognition from my Re-enactment, LARP and generally Geek friends.
I have seen this before - surely they have too?? Why am I alone in seeing what is really happening?? Is it really an age thing?

Turn back only a few decades.... well actually quite a few... 1976.
I so clearly recall the strange intervention onto the world of film when David Bowie became an enigmatic "Man who fell to Earth". Oh how we thrilled at the funny little globe thing that fitted into a small stand and played music which seemed to have no source!!!. Oh how we marvelled at the television images, not at a maximum 20 inches ( not centimetres!) but wall sized and almost, shock at the thought, in three dimensions.....
How we laughed at the ridiculous concept of private enterprise raising sufficient funds to put a commercial tourist rocket ship into space.... These things were pure science fiction and could never come to pass!

1976 (not 2012). But I also recall the start. A Meteor flying through night sky, lighting up the horizon.
All right - it was flying over the United States of America, but that was a geographical nicety, it was an American funded film, and was therefore filmed in that great country. It landed with a great explosion in a lake somewhere in the midst of remote states. Today, a flaming body passes over all those remote parts of the Urals ( they have a population but who would have thought ??) and then strikes a frozen lake in the middle of nowhere.

I am not saying that there is a connection. It is just an observation. But while we talk about 2012 passing so close that our Sat Nav satellites are further out in the night sky, my mind once again reviews the statements of the US Defense when they (laughingly) gave their reasons for not building a Death Star, and the claim that it was not Defense policy to blow up other planets. Was this their real reason??

9pm, and the sky over Llanelli has clouded over. I am not one to be paranoid, but it was crystal clear when I started writing this blog, and now, when I have the opportunity to examine more closely this body called 2012, the skies are misted and there is no way that I can examine the profile of the celestial body to see if it may be perfectly round, bristling with weapons, and hiding an asthmatic Goth leader.

No, I cannot investigate further here in Llanelli. But there are those out there who will strive for the truth. Those who may search the ice and waste of the Urals to see if we have and alien bristling with futuristic technology, or maybe an annoying golden robot and Dusty Bin on wheels.

I am not paranoid. Nor am I demented. But Mr Putin has said that he will sort everything out. The Pope has resigned. We are more worried in our press about the possibility that we are eating Horse Meat, than we are about the utterings of politicians which would better be described as bull***t. I have 200 channels on my satellite TV and nothing worth watching this evening, not even in the night sky....

They are among us!! And they do not want us to know ... tell your friends ...

There is a programme on UK televisionthat I'veonly seen a snatch of, on one occasion, called 'Loose Women.'

I find telly tiresome - I watch antique valuation progammes, property makeovers, quiz shows (I'm selective about which) and some BBC 4 music programmes. I don't watch cooking because I hate seeing the contestants demeaned by some of the judges. My tastesmay below brow, but I want to be entertained, not worried, soI don't watch the news, either. It's too horrific. I prefer reading it in the paper the next day whenI can turn the page if I want.

But this talking shop show, 'Loose Women' reminds me of my daughters and myself, when we get going. No subject istoo tricky for us, no holds barred, either.

A friend's son has been appearing in a musical in the West End and I congratulated her. She shrugged.

'He could have been a lawyer, if I'd made him.' I asked if he was interested in the law and she said it didn't matter. He'd have done whatever shetold him.

Rousseau, the French philosopher, thought along those lines, too. He believed a child's mind was like a tabula rasa, a blank slate, that an adultcould do anything with. (We won't bother too much with Rousseau for the purposes of this blog, because he dumped his own children in an orphanage.)

Similarly, the Jesuits believed that ifchildren were tutored before the age of seventhey could be moulded to the teacher's will.

'They'd have had a jobwith my two', said my older daughter. 'Those two know everything. You can't tell them a thing.'

We have holidayed in the north of Majorca many times, in a little place called Pollensa. There aren't many shops there but the countryside has an appealingroughness, with scraggy goats jumping around the olive trees. We stay in avilla close towhere an architect has his office in a small house nearby.

My grandsons used to admire thearchitect's old bicycle, chained up outside the house. Often, when we passed by,(each time), I'd ask them if they'd like to be architects. They were non-commital, surfing, skateboarding andlife-saving, as in Lifeguards, being their main interests.

My daughter told me to let them choose for themselves what they wanted to do, but following my friend's theory we began to wonder if you can influence your child's future career.

I've noticedthatchildren often follow intheir father's occupation: doctors, dentists, bakers, butchers all have children brought up 'in the shop', as it were. In our family, we have all taught, andI wonder if it's possible to pass on a work 'gene.'

My younger daughterhas another theory.

'Children who findhome life uncomfortable are more adventurous than others.We'dhave been kick-ar** hot shots somewhere exotic now if we hadn't liked it at home,' was her conclusion.

Could bea PhD thesis in there for someone.

The Italian film actress, GinaLollobrigida, says it's not easyfor a woman to attendsocial events withouta partner. This is why she has been escorted for a number ofyearsby a much younger man.

Nancy Reagan and Jacqueline Kennedy, too,had professsional'walkers'when their husbands were unable to accompany them.

Iknowthe feeling when enteringa large hall, full of couples,alone. First everyone stares, which doesn't bother me,but when the waitressesignore me I get mad. Am I invisible, or something?

I shall explain. I went to a 'talk' (I'd had an invitation in the post) and paidtwelve pounds for the buffet, to include an alcoholic drink.

The Queen arrives last minute, I know, but I prefer going a little earlier. The taxidriver insisted on dropping me right outside the main door as it was drizzling. Everyonepeered asI got out and made my wayto the main hall. So what?

I waswaved in by an official butnot invited to geta drink (perhaps there was a specific time when the drinks began, I don't know).I don't drink alcohol, anyway, so went to a separate bar,bought a juice, returned to my 'do' and walked around, looked at the pictures on the wall, then sat down to sip the drink.

As the place filled up,three waitresses appeared,carrying trays of canapes. Each one sailed passed me and went straight to the middle of the room where the tallest and loudest guestschattered. Two waitresses came back with empty trays, not once glancing my way. I stopped the third one - I sound like theAncient Mariner - 'He stoppeth one of three'- desperate to tell my tale to anyone who will listen.

There were five scrappy biscuits left,no larger than the size of an old penny.

'I was wondering if I might have something?' I said boldly.

Deploying a social lie, the young girlsaid, though she hadn't looked at me, though she was passing right by and though I'd had to raise my hand to signal to her, (showsI was a teacher in a past life) that she hadintended bringing me a fresh biscuit.

Refraining from saying 'Yeah. Whatever', like my grandsonswhen they hear a whopper,I waited for her return and thentook three biscuits. (They were four pounds each, for goodness sake.)

Theevening came to an endandmy taxi, from the same firm, arrived shortly afterwards.The young driver wanted to know what the event was about.Iskipped through that andunloaded aboutthe buffet.

He listened intently.'Did the biscuits have something sugary on the top?'

'Only tiny scraps of cheese, tomato and peppers', I explained.

'Ask for your money back', was the first suggestion.

It wasn't the money that was annoying me, I said, it was being totally ignored. The money was secondary.

He breathed in deeply: 'You hungry? I knowa very good curry house. I take you. You get a lot of curry for twelve pounds.'

I started laughing, though I'd not touched a drop. The taxi driver had turned the night around, though I didn't have any curry, either.

This is a blog for Indie writers everywhere, right? you
ask.

Absolutely! I reply looking sincere.

So why is this Eto magazine you seem to be spending so much
time on exclusively for Welsh writers and not everyone then? a hint of
accusation in your voice.

I can best answer that by telling you a true story. I
reply.

The story takes place back in the dim distant past when I still
had black hair and computers hadnt begun to roam the earth. I was head teacher
of a small village school at the top end of the Rhondda
Valley called Blaencwm. Blaencwm
nestled snugly among the mountains and if it snowed there was no way in or out.
It truly was a very close knit community.

At one time a tunnel had been driven through the mountain at
the top end of the village to provide easy access to places like Aberavon, a
staggering feat of engineering. When the government instigated cuts to the
railway network in the 60s Blaencwm was left stranded on the economic beach
with no hope of the tide ever turning. My years spent in this vibrant community
were among the happiest of my life.

All very nice. I hear you say. But whats the point?

One day during a drama lesson a little girl said to me. My
Uncles a writer. My response was something condescending like, Thats nice.
While secretly hoping it wasnt the school wall he had daubed with graffiti.

The little girls name was Elaine Berry. Her uncle was Ron
Berry.

Niall Griffiths has described Ron Berrys novel SO
LONG HECTOR BEBB as one of the greatest novels to come out of the twentieth century.

Ron Berry was probably living in Blaencwm, or very close by,
at the time. It frustrates the hell out of me to think I could have actually
met him. Here was a writer ignored by the world at large and relatively unknown
in his own community. Having just read his book for the first time I realise what
an opportunity was lost. Never in a million years could I hope to write
something like that!

Now as a writer myself I feel a responsibility to my own
community. Eto is one of the ways in which I hope to discharge that
responsibility by providing a platform for local authors so that writers of
the future will be less likely to suffer the fate that Ron Berry endured. A
towering talent that very few people knew existed.

So having answered your question let me ask you one.

What commitment are you prepared to make to writers within
your community wherever you live?

Were each and every one of us shaped for muck and glory,
thank the Jesus Christ All-bloody-mighty for it an all.