Blogs
|
With barely a month until the release of Gruff's new album 'American Interior', the man himself has been hard at work signing the exclusive Pete Fowler prints that'll be gently placed in the box sets. The limited edition box set is nearly gone, so don't miss your chance to get a hold of one (now including 9 original Gruff tracks which won't be available elsewhere!). 'American Interior' will be available in all good record shops on May 5th , but you can pre-order it NOW, either physical or on iTunes .
Gruff also recently unveiled the music video for the album's first single and title track. Feast your eyes over on YouTube. The video should whet your appetite for what's to come in American Interior THE MOVIE, which is released on May 8th . The 'American Interior' single has also been A-listed on BBC 6 Music, so huge thanks to everyone there!
If you're a fan of Gruff's Public Service Announcements then you could do worse than to ensure you're tuned in to Gruff's Facebook transmissions. Plenty of information, both old and new, and with the page having just hit 10,000 likes, it's in celebratory mood, so come join the party .
Just two weeks ago Gruff announced his residency at Soho Theatre, and a Cardiff show, and they sold out almost instantly. There's still opportunity to see Gruff live this Summer at a couple of one-off gigs and festivals, listed below. May 1st Liverpool Sound City
There's a mammoth 5 page feature with Gruff in this month's edition of Uncut magazine. Pick it up to read Gruff chatting about his new album and word from his Super Furry Animals band mates. American Interior THE ALBUM is released 5th May. American Interior THE BOOK is released 8th May. American Interior THE FILM is released 9th May. American Interior THE APP is released 8th May. |
http://gruffrhys.comhttp://american-interior.com |
DOWNLOAD THE ENTRY FORM HERE (PDF)
Celebrate Spring With Poetry!
The 8th international Welsh Poetry Competition, 2014, wants your entries!
Our annual competition has gone from strength to strength each year and is a significant part of the global literary calendar.
Writer and competition organizer Dave Lewis said: The continued success of the competition shows there is a great hunger for honest appreciation of the spoken word. Many feel the competition is unique because it is truly independent, we do not use filter judges and all our entries are judged anonymously. So, whether you are an established writer or a complete beginner, everyone has the same chance of winning. This, we believe, is vitally important because it allows exciting new talent to emerge.
This year the competition will be judged by Welsh writer, poet and environmentalist, John Evans.
We are delighted that John has agreed to judge this years competition. He has become an internationally respected figure both for his writing and his tireless work campaigning to conserve our wildlife and natural environment.
The competition has had seven great years already and recently published an anthology containing all the winning poems from the first five years of the competition. Copies can be obtained direct from the competition website, from Amazon and all good book stores.
As always, we hope to discover previously unpublished voices alongside the more familiar literary names. We are not interested in dry, pseudo-intellectual writing but believe good poetry should be raw, passionate and honest! Are you brave enough to enter and be judged by one of Wales' most famous Welshmen?
Prizes are: 1st Prize - 400, 2nd Prize - 200 and 3rd Prize - 100, plus 17 runners-up will be published on our web site and in a future anthology!
To enter you just need to compose a poem, in English, of less than 50 lines and send to the competition organizers. Entry forms are available by post, can be downloaded from the web site or picked up from all libraries. It is just 4 to enter and the closing date is Sunday 15th June 2014.
Competition Website - www.welshpoetry.co.uk
Competition Judge www.johnevans.org.uk
...
AmeriCymru: Hi Marly and many thanks for agreeing to be interviewed by AmeriCymru. When did you decide to take up writing childrens'' fiction?
Marly: I created stories for my own children, Catrin and Gareth Owain when they were at primary school age, but it was not until my twin grandchildren Ava and Daniel arrived six years ago, that I really began to take the whole thing seriously.
AmeriCymru: Care to tell us a little about the ''Little Gam'' series?
Marly: My inspiration for the Little Gam series came from life with my partner Jeff, who is a seventh generation Gower farmer. While developing the stories, we created a ''Little Gam Model Village'', pictured first in Spring and later in Winter. Three films were made, in English and Welsh, complete with narratives, now showing on Youtube. Each book has a seasonal theme and are centred around the village, its unspoilt countryside,colourful characters and mischievous animals.
AmeriCymru: The books are set in the Gower peninsula, south Wales. Care to describe the area for the benefit of our American readers? Is ''Little Gam'' based on any particular Gower village?
Marly: ''Little Gam'' is based loosely on the very quaint village of Murton, in Bishopston, in an area of outstanding beauty. It is a typical Gower village with a post office, inn, bakery, farm, church on the Green, smithy, and school.There have been some changes.
AmeriCymru: You are also a poet. Can you tell us a little about your poetry?
Marly: Writing poetry was my first passion, and this occured earlier in my life. I wrote many poems and some were published.I took my inspiration from life.
AmeriCymru: Where can people go online to buy your books?
Marly: My books can be bought via my book website:- www.talesfromlittlegam.wordpress.com
AmeriCymru: What''s next for Marly Evans? When can we expect to see the next in the ''Little Gam'' series?
Marly: The next book is entitled '' Summertime'' and will be on sale in a few months.
AmeriCymru: Any final message for the members and readers of AmeriCymru?
Marly: In my books, I have tried to create a world, which illustrates Welsh village life with all its humour and daily goings-on. All the stories are true and in many ways, quite unique.
"Odes and Stories, a great little read. You must be proud of what you have written. All success to you and keep up the good work cos Duw it's hard." Max
Max Boyce is pictured above with a copy of 'Odes and Stories', a collection of poems written by AmeriCymru member Ralph Jones. For more details about Ralph and 'Odes And Stories' see below and his profile page here:- Ralph Jones
Odes and Stories
| |
Author: Ralph Jones
ISBN: rjodes
Publisher: Publication date: 2014-02-22 12:35:02
Language: English
Price: 3
. 
Product Description
Ralph Jones was born in Dowlais in Merthyr Tydfil in 1953. He is a 60-year-old ex miner who worked at the Merthyr Vale colliery in Aberfan, South Wales for twenty-one years, until its closure in August 1989.
He attended Queens Road secondary modern school in Merthyr Tydfil, leaving at the age of fifteen to work at the colliery. After the colliery closed, he worked in a factory, before leaving to take up employment with Welsh Water. He worked there for a number of years, until an accident outside work forced him to take early retirement on medical grounds.
Ralph started to write after he finished work, having de- cided to record his experiences and those of his friends on the picket lines and other places during the 1984 miners strike. His first book, The Silent Wheels; Big Boys Story , is a tribute to his best friend and also to all the miners throughout the country who have passed away in the years since the strike.
His second book, The Rage Within , published in 2013, is a gangster story.
He has been happily married for 26 years, has one sonand continues to live in Merthyr Tydfil.
Back to Welsh Literature page >
Who doesn't love the story of Orson Welles radio production of War of the Worlds which caused many listeners to head for the hills - literally. Deliberately introducing the play as a news broadcast proved too realistic especially when one of the actors described the emergence of an alien from its spacecraft:
"Good heavens, something's wriggling out of the shadow like a gray snake," he said, in an appropriately dramatic tone of voice. "Now it's another one, and another. They look like tentacles to me. There, I can see the thing's body. It's large as a bear and it glistens like wet leather. But that face. It...it's indescribable. I can hardly force myself to keep looking at it. The eyes are black and gleam like a serpent. The mouth is V-shaped with saliva dripping from its rimless lips that seem to quiver and pulsate....The thing is raising up. The crowd falls back. They've seen enough. This is the most extraordinary experience. I can't find words. I'm pulling this microphone with me as I talk. I'll have to stop the description until I've taken a new position. Hold on, will you please, I'll be back in a minute."
Many people didn't bother to hang around as panic began to grip the population. Instead of suppressing a superior snigger at all those naive folks perhaps we shouldn't be too quick to cast the first stone of ridicule. Technology is moving so fast the lines between science and fiction are becoming increasingly blurred. Perhaps there never has been such a great time to be an aspiring writer of science fiction which brings me to the point of this post. If anyone would like to provide a paragraph from their work, unfinished or published, I will feature it on this blog next week along with a link to whatever you provide.
There was little traffic on the auto link. Occasionally they would speed past huge land transporters ferrying goods from zone to zone. Once, the monstrous bulk of an interstate freighter moved deferentially to one side in acknowledgement of the distinctive markings displayed on the sleek black limo. Only essential personnel owned petrol powered vehicles. Most drove solar powered transporters that were by law restricted to zonal sectors only. The advances in cellular construction which had made possible the development of the vast 'zonal domes' also concentrated the suns energy providing all necessary power. The domes also protected the inhabitants from harmful effects of solar radiation that so easily penetrated the impoverished atmosphere.
At least traffic jams were a thing of the past. Chief Inspector Dale had read of this late twenty first century phenomenon with amused fascination. He afforded himself a wry smile. The problem appeared insoluble to scientists and politicians alike as the multiplying mass of humanity threatened to exhaust rapidly decreasing global resources. Pollution, the suppurating wounds of industrialised society, festered openly. A disease many believed incurable. Overshadowing these horrors hung the threat of the nuclear holocaust.
Oblivion.
When the end came no one even recognised its coming. The collapse of the Western monetary system proved disastrous. Economies disintegrated. Inflation soared. Nations plunged into a world wide depression deeper than an ocean trench. Swept away by the tidal wave of events governments lay stranded and helpless like beached whales. Anarchy prevailed. Continents became one vast battle ground. Wars raged within and between nations. Nuclear weapons of unimaginable destructive power were unleashed and a second Dark Age enshrouded mankind. Famine, the camp follower of war, carried her children, disease and misery, at her breast. The human race teetered on the brink of destruction.
Out of chaos arose a saviour.
But salvation carried a price. Theirs had been Jonathon.
The car sped through the nightmare landscape. Beyond the elevated auto pass security patrols wailed as they passed along the restricted area that marked the boundary of the Outworld. The occasional staccato roar of a helipatrol thundered a primal challenge across the reddening sky as it swept over the wasteland in scything arcs. A vivid sunset seeped through the heavens bloodying the scarred earth. Against the skyline the wreckage of a lost world cast its grotesque silhouette like the exposed bones of an ancient beast time has long since devoured. Camp fires flickered amidst the sepulchres of dead cities. Still the car sped on.
Dale glanced at the window and saw his face reflected against the desolation.
Kay still believed he was out there.
In exile.
Punished.
She must never know the truth. No one must."
That's my contribution folks the rest is up to you. If you are interested please contact me at philiprowlands@ymail.com.
* * * *
You may or may not know that I also write educational programs for children. If you have a young child I am currently giving away free copies of an app that simulates Cuisenaire Rods. My grandson, who's seven, loves using it. If you would like a free copy follow this link FREE APP
Private Arthur Williams
9 Btn Royal Welch Fusiliers
At 5.50am on September 25, 1915, a furious bombardment like the revving engines of one thousand motorcycles roared across the sky above the heads of the 9 th Battalion Royal Welch Fusiliers towards the German lines positioned north of Loos, a small mining town in northern France.
For three whole weeks, the men of the 9 RWF had lain in wait face down in the craters of earlier exchanges preparing for the order that announced The Big Push the great advance that would drive the Germans out of France and end the unendurable horrors of the Great War.
An artillery bombardment had pounded the German line for four days solid to shatter enemy morale and decimate the machine gun nests and wire defences that protected Kaiser Wilhelms men, but in the cold, damp morning air the shelling intensified beyond the worst imaginings of the most battle-hardened Tommy.
On that almost breathless morning as unceasing rain transformed the British positions into a quagmire, the war would surely change its course. Until that day, the Germans had outnumbered and outgunned the allied forces, but now, at last, opposing generals boasted all but equal resources in terms of men, guns, bullets and munitions.
Huddled with their brothers-in-arms in those filthy, rain-drenched fields awaiting the shrill whistle to advance were men or rather boys - from Ammanford, Llandeilo, Cross Hands, Brynaman and every village in between.
On September 20 - the day before the bombardment had begun, Mrs Williams of 33 Heol Las, Ammanford, received a letter from her 22-year-old son, Arthur. Arthur and his comrades, in the fields and trenches north of Loos, knew the push was merely days away. His younger brother Richard was a few miles up the line. Accompanying the letter, Arthur sent a note home to his sister:
You mustnt worry mother about him; he will be all right, and tell mother that I am as happy as a lark, and to be proud that she has got two sons fighting for our country.
Arthur ended: Trusting that God will spare us to come home again after doing our duty.
In those early hours of September 25, at Divisional Headquarters some miles rear of Arthur and his comrades, General Sir Douglas Haig watched a junior officer light a cigarette.
As the smoke drifted gently in the direction of the German lines, Haigs mind was at last set firm.
For six long months, the Germans had unleashed a fearsome new weapon chlorine gas. But now the allies possessed a horrific cloud of their own to asphyxiate and debilitate its victims and leave them helpless to hot metal spat from angry guns.
As the cigarette smoke danced along the morning breeze, Haig gave the fateful order to release the Allied gas.
At 6.30am the British guns fell silent and a pall of smoke and chlorine fell between opposing lines. The whistles which refused to go unanswered sang out across the dawn and Arthur, Richard, Private Stephen Prout another Ammanford boy and Corporal John Evans of Cross Hands, and thousands like them clambered out from the water-filled holes and trenches where they had sheltered and slept in comradely trios, each taking a turn in the middle to savour whatever warmth could be found there.
We braced ourselves and leapt onto the open field, said one survivor afterwards.
Misery makes heroes of us all.
Arthur, according to his fellows, was one of the first over the top.
The spreading gas forewarned the Germans of the Push, and unbeknownst to the boys of 9 RWF the unrelenting bombardment had done little to diminish the defences that awaited them.
The incessant rain of days and weeks made progress all but impossible. Their great coats were soaked in mud and blood and rain and each weighed heavy as an overflowing coal sack as the men of 9 RWF walked on through mounting piles of corpses into a hail of burning lead.
Haigs gentle breeze began to falter. The wind turned south and pushed the noxious fumes away to leave the Kaisers men unmoved and offer them clear sight of Tommys slow charge.
Undeterred, the boys and men of 9 RWF pushed on, and undeterred the German guns rang out.
Arthur took a bullet to the stomach and fell on that blood and rain-soaked field so very far from home. Some unknown, un-named comrade ignored the fizzing, whizzing Hell about him and stopped and kneeled and freed poor Arthur from his backpack. Together they crawled, with Arthur fighting harder even than hed fought the Hun, back from whence theyd come.
From the British line, he was carried in a makeshift ambulance 150 miles south-east to No2 Stationary Hospital at Rouen, arriving either on September 26 or 27.
On September 29, a letter was delivered in the morning mail to 33 Heol Las.
Dear Mrs Williams, wrote the nurse, I am sorry to tell you that your son, Private Arthur Williams, died last night of wounds received in action.
He was admitted at 8pm, and was unconscious, and died very peaceably at 11.
He was suffering from abdominal wounds, and the surgeon had no hope from the first.
I wish I had more to tell you. It is terribly hard for you to only get bare facts, but unfortunately it is all I can do.
Stephen Prout was wounded at Loos, but survived the war, as did Richard Williams and John Evans, who despite the horrors he would live to witness, said of the September 25 advance: It was a charge I will never forget.
Arthur Williams was buried at Abbeville Communal War Cemetery near the Somme in France.
There is a corner of that foreign field that is forever Ammanford.
I am delighted to announce that on Tuesday, March 25, the wonderful John Rhys Davies of Lord of the Rings and Indiana Jones (two name but two) fame was kind enough to record Misery makes Heroes of us All for me at the BBC studios in Cardiff. John, an Amman Valley boy, was only too happy to record my tribute to one of Ammanford's fallen. The audio will be made available online in the not too distant future.
John Rhys Davies recording Misery makes Heroes of us All.
It was Monday morning at 8.45 am , as the flame haired librarian opened the front door of the Merthyr Central Library.
Greeting him was afamiliar sight …the back of the Statue ofLord Buckland - HenrySeymour Berry- resplendent in caped attire and open book in hand….only today , he wore an orange traffic cone on his head…which made him look like a modern dayHarry Potter.
“ I know he is due to be taken away to be cleaned soon but ….!”
Using all of his 6 feet frame, he managed to climb onto the plinth of the statue and stretchingout with old Imperial Pool cue , he pushed the offending cone down into the High Streetbelow.
“ Bloody Hoodlums…. they have no respect….” he muttered under his breath.
Senior Librarian Simon Stallone , had like the statue , been a permanent fixture at the Central Library for over 30 years and both had witnessed first hand the under-class generation of Merthyr Tydfil.
Their motives had changed over the years,they now only used the Library tosteal reference books ’with pretty pictures’ and surf internet porn sites.
But mild-mannered Stallone had had enough… whilst he still had a good head of hair ..his mop ofred hair was now tainted by a giant silver streak…however, his temper had not mellowed and hehad over the last six months enrolled inthe Dowlais Community Centre Boxing Gym and had bulked up to Eight Stone.
No longer was he- Simon ‘Rambo’ Stallone ,a push over …he had turned in his alter ego- Superhero Conan the Librarian.
Putting back his pool cue in his belt, the blue tunic flying defiantly in the breeze , he climbed the front concrete steps two- at -a time and spun the revolving doors aggressively.
“ Don’t push me !” he growled as the narrow glass compartmentshuffledhim from the street into the library hallway.
The street thugs had drawn ’First Blood’.
******************************
“ When shall we three meet again?” asked the shadowy female figure as the sun began to rise from behind the Aberdare mountain.
The three naked witchesstopped their circle danceand released each other’s hands as one.
As the wheelie bin fuelled firesank into its embers,the Heolgerrig Coven stopped its celebration of the Celtic festival of Sam Hain and Upper Colliers Row field returned to normality.
From his first floor window of his former Council house, former teacher Sean Fein, penned his latest CelticPoem.
The Bard of Brondeg sat silently as he observed his wife Dawn Corus dressing back into her NHS Sister’s uniform ready for her morning shift.
At this time of year, he was always up at the crack of Dawn.
The three wizened old crones who danced by night,transformed at the first light of the Spring morning into young women at the peak of their maidenhood ,by using a strange magic and lots and lots of Elizabeth Arden beauty products.
Her fellow witches also suddenly re-appeared as respectable members of the community- Megan Phillips -a District Nurse and her friendPippet Boots became awhite coated Chemist .
The remaining signs of their pagan sisterhoodwere removed, asthe District Nurse loaded her spell book into her Volkswagon convertible …ensuring that her black cat ‘Katy’ was safely installed in the front seat.
She like her fellow ‘white witches’ had people to heal.
******************************
Simon Stallone stood behind the library ‘issue’ counter and was busily stamping the books returned by one of his regular library users who enjoyed baiting the streaked- haired librarian.
His blue tunic bore testament to the number of minority groups and fringe societies to which he was enrolled as a member.
His pin badges proudly declared that he was part ofthe ’Save the Panda Fund’ , Plaid Cymru, Greenpeace, Help the Aged , the Rainbow Alliance.
His favourite was the Merthyr Vale Man United supporters Club badge Eric the Red Devil.
These badgesstood for everything the ‘ Street Scum’ did not.
He cared for the environment , for animals and for elderly people.
His latest boast was that he was the only person in Merthyr Vale to become botha member of the two WWF‘s- World Wildlife Fund and World Wrestling Federation…even if he did get a VWF from the local yob centre when he walked passed the Windsor Pub or the ’Black’ sporting his collection of badges.
“ Dead Men don’t wear Plaid!” said Mike Hammer looking at thepolitical pin badges on the librarian’s collar.
“ Don’t push me….!” snarled Stallone…anger bubbling just below the surface…as he snapped back at the customer.
“I’m sorry…whispered Hammer…I thought this was a library ….I will say it in that Dead Tongue language of yours…..- Welsh…..- so you understand ….. SSHUSSIO……”
As the queueof people behind the annoying Hammer began to increase…the librarian powder-keg began to shake….lifting a huge tome returned in amongst some District Nurse Study Books …he thought for a split second about whacking his agitator with a ’ Hammer’ blow.
Unfortunately, the library attracted oddballs from all walks of life- ……..and that was just the staff.
As he passedthe returnedbooks to fellow librarian Meibion Glyndwr….he turned to the next customer knowing he had to bite his tongue….” I wish that Hammer had a dead tongue…” he muttered.
As Meibion Glyndwr moped away …-as if followed by an invisible rain cloud- he carried the books back to theNon -Fiction 500’s- Chemistry and Science,failing to notice the strange glow coming from the heavytome.
“ Oi butt….got any books on badger baiting….“interrupted two scruffy youths - Hugo Pinch and Nick Adidas- from the other side of the counter.
“ Do you mind …wait your turn…said Stallone politely …as he served a elderly lady whose head had tilted and dropped through age onto her chest, who was innocentlyreturning her Mills & Boonlove stories and under the counter “ Lady Chatterley’s Lover”…..
“ Cor ….look at that Granny Hugo …did you pinch her neck bolts?laughed the baseball -hatted youth looking like an extra from theTrisha Show.
“ Excuse me….said Stallone to the insulted pensioner ….as Chairman of bothWWF’s …I have some pond life to deal with….!”
In the absence of a phone box to change in, our Hero entered the Junior Library as a mild-manner Librarian and returned asSuperhero-” Bookwormman!!!!!!” .
“ This a job for the tuniced crusader…Is it a bird …is it a plane…no…. it’s an infant’s chair!“ said….‘Rambo’ splintering the wooden seat over the heads of the youths to the cheers of the gathered book-returners and library staff , as he opened the emergency doorand bootedthe pair of street scum down the library steps.
“ Your both black-listed!!!!” Stallone shouted as Kong- like he beat his 26 inchchest.
Mike Hammer just sat unusually silently in the reading room doing his daily crossword .
He would think twice about baiting the ‘library’ badger again.
******************************
“ Oh Stallone….you are my hero…!!!!” .came the cry from a blonde Brecon Bombshell from her reference library home on the first floor.
“ I’m sure when I check your family tree later……I’ll find you aredescended from the finest stock of Welsh working class heroes…and street fightersMerthyr has produced.
“ I wish ….!!!“ declared Rambo picking up the Tome for the second time.
Looking at the beautifully hand carved Celtic writing he noticed its words seemed to shimmer orange then stop.
“ Meibion …cover the counter for me …I have tofeed the fishand send some corn-dogs down the Taff”
******************************
As he said on his library throne in the downstairs khazi …Rambo worried about the onset of his recent haemorrhoidproblem.
From within an inate voice was saying “ Don’t push me!!!!”
As he turned the front cover,he read the Celtic Words GRAN GRIMWAR…or the Witches Bible.
He realised immediately that it was written in a strange tongue…
He tried to translate , but it was difficult………. Twtty down by the bosh…. and I’ll be there now in a minute…… of course,he thought it is in Wenglish.
It contained a strange warning which read….
NON WYCH BEWARE ….FOR YE SPELL ATA PRICE….YOUR WISH SHALL BE MET… BUT ONLY THE THRICE….ROCKY TIMES AHEAD FOR YOU …. A PETRIFIED SACRIFICE …..
Rambo began to shit himself which was both a blessingand a curse.
“ I wish I could get rid of this piles… he moaned…I have more hangers-on than a Freeman of the Borough ceremony.
Like the toilet bowl below ….the book glowed orange …. And Rambo smiled as it dawned on him that this was the end of his ‘First Blood’.
He was happy as for the first time for years , he could lift pristine Persil white CND underpants….bearing the motto ’Y Fronts prevent fallout‘.
******************************
“ Have you seen a book ….?” asked the District Nurse…frantically to counter man Jan Bollock.
“ Unless you hadn’t noticed BIG nose….this IS a library…course I have seen a book…never read one though!”came the reply.
“ One with gold Celtic lettering….about 600 years old…ducking stool proof….” she continued hastily…only I am late for my next patient…I need it for a short spell….. Besides its my answer to L’Oreal anti-aging cream ”
Her black cat curled around her shoulders….
“ Are you a witch…. !“Asked Bollock in his native Pentrebach sarcastic brogue answering a question with a question.
“ Why do you say that? “ replied the hag…… worried that she had been spotted dancing naked in Heolgerrig again and not just in the Six Bells & Red Lion.
“ Cos you got a BIGGGGGG Nose!….besides …..!“ declared Bollock …staring at the cat…..she looks familiar……anything else I can NOT help you with?”
“I don’t suppose you havean eye of anewt or toadpoles ears do you ? Asked Megan aging by the second.
“ Try the Jamie O ‘Liver Cookery Section sponsored bySainsbury - Section 600 Domestic Science” came the seductive reply.
“ I don’t suppose you want to buy some Genuine Dylan Thomas sweat do you…the American Tourists lap it up. I call ’Under (arm)Milkwood ? . Asked Bollock
Like most exasperated customers of the Library, she threw her warty hands in the air in dismay , twitched her nose anddisappeared suddenly.
Only the cat remained …which darted passed Bollock and hid beneath the shelves of the 600’s Non- Fiction section of shape-shifting and MedievalSciences.
******************************
As Rambo wiped his hands on the reading room velvet curtains he noticed that the room was unusually silent.
As part of his Senior Librarian duties he had to put out the daily journals and newspapers in the Reading Room.
It was a plan designed by the Head of the Ranch - Chief Librarian Dan Blocker -‘Hoss the Boss’…who felt that it would increase the circulation and lead to a ‘Bonanza’ on lending book numbers.
The introduction of the daily newspapers pinned up on the boards had in fact increased the library users but made it look like a deaf man’s version ofLadbrokes.
Still Rambo ….loved a bet on the horses and he was as always in shares with the female library cleaner.
AnitaCoggins,theLibrary Cleaner,could always be found in the reading room studying form with her Racing Post and lucky can of Mr Sheen…to ensure that the horse produced a polished performance.
Looking up at the broadsheets in front of him Rambo declared “ Mirror…., Mirror on the Wall…who’s the fairest one of all!!!!”
As if by magic,the sporting pages dulled into the background as certain horse names seemed to jump out at him in Orange bold type.
12.30 REDCAR - BLACK MAGIC
1.15 RIPON-UNBELIEVER
2.30 - CATTERICK - SPELLBOUND
3.15 NEWBURY -TURN TO STONE
Was this his lucky day…he had to believe.
As the Electric Light Orchestra song ‘Turn to Stone’ popped into head he sensed an unease about his situation.
Was there a ‘ Strange Magic’ abroad on the Celtic festival of Sam Hain.
‘ Turn to Stone’hewondered aloud.
Mike Hammer sat crossword in hand buthad he been able to speak or move he would have warned the Librarian that the initials of the horses spelt the word….BUST.
His jibe about the Welsh language being a dead tongue had left him with a dead tongue and the two would never have a ’crossword’ between them again.
As Rambo shuffled Sammy Davies Junior - Style into Ladbrokes (brought on by his continual use of the revolving doors) he placed his bets at the counter on the four horses of his apocalypse.
He would have got better odds at Joe Coral but he was banned for life because of afolly in hisyouth.
During his days in PETA and ANIMALISTY INTERNATIONAL days he had ’cat burgled’ andfreed all the caged hamsters and white mice in the Victoria Street Pet Shop before setting fire to the premises.
Unfortunately ,the blaze had spread to the opposite Global Video store… which meant he was the first registered animal activist and environmentalist to be charged with Global warming.
Joe Coral too benefited , as they becameodds on favourites to annex the burnt out store.
The fact that had been ‘arson about’ was never declared to the Council otherwise he was unlikely to be allowed to work in the second most combustible building in town.
As he was found in the Town centre with pockets full of mice surrounded by more Cats than an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical , he was dragged to help withthe Police with their enquiries.
He had hated cats with a vengeance ever since.
******************************
As Rambo finished the rest of his shift, he continued to serve his beloved public but was surprised by his sudden interest in ELO songs.
As he put back onto the shelves volumes of Cowboy stories….he began to hum ‘Wild West Hero‘
In the Biography Section he placed back the Diary of one Horace Wimp.
Imagine his ’Confusion’ when ’All over his world’’Strange Magic’ was at work as every thing he did seemed to end in a ’Rock Aria’.
“ Shine a little light’ over here asked Bollock kneeling down beneath the Card Index System near the400’s looking for something.
He was joined by mobile librarians the bespectacledDewi’ Decimal’ Parry and Phil Collins.
“ What have you lost? “ asked Rambo
“ I have been doing some Cat A Logging….!” replied Bollock….and I know there is a missing ‘Southpaw under there somewhere….if only I had a ‘Corgi or aKorky cricket ball I could get him out!”
“ I thought there was something in the air tonight !“ replied Collins sniffing cat pee…. Well Rambo….I’d like to help …..but I ’ve got to get moving…they don’t call us mobile librarians for nothing.!”
Glancing up at the clock …Rambo could see it was 5 O‘clock and time for the first shift to leave.
He could see something else too.
He thought he could see the face ofa long dead boxing champion staring back at him from the clock face.
As the staff and customers filed passed him, Rambo could only mumble the word ‘Argloed’.
One bearded man refused to budge as he tried to climb the stairs to the reference library.
“ Excuse me Sir, but the reference library isnow closed” declared Rambo.
“ Waarawarra….SchooMU Chucka-I have come over from Australia to TRACE my family tree…my grandfather was from Merthyr…the names Rolf- Didgeridoo- Harris…you may have heard of me…two little boys and all that ….I only want a quick walkabout”
“ I thought you looked a bit dodgy…no one DRAWS in the Reference library ….OUT and stop making those irritating guttural noises….I am Chairman of ‘ Save the ABOS’ New & Old South Wales Committeeand you ’re notindigenous! Declared Rambo closing the wooden front door on his trailing beard.
“ Bloody Hell ..those reference users get stranger and strange…I know Jacobs crackers…but she attracts some ‘ real beauties’.
Looking up at the original ‘Dai Watkins ‘Dial M for Merthyr’ footballClock , Rambo againthought he could see the face of a long dead boxing champion staring back at him from it’s own clockface.
I must have spent too long in the Charles Dickens section,he thought shrugging of the apparition.
As he regained his senses , he bolted the front door and decided to check his betting results.
To his amazement his £10.00 accumulator bet looked good.
The first Horse ’Black Magic’ had romped home at 10/1, his second ‘Unbeliever’ was a 40/1 long shot but also had beaten the field
Rambo just felt that something was not quite right.
His third steed ‘Spellbound’ had won a photo finish at 15/1 .
His heart pounded hard in his chest…his brow full of ginger and greysweat… as he checked the final results ofthe Newbury races…..was it his lucky day after 30 years of ‘seconds’ and so many near misses.
As he stood waiting for the page to load …he was amazed to discover that in a locked library a black cat was about to cross his path.
Looking at the feline,he could not believe his eyes as the shape shifter transformed from Grimalkin into a beautiful young girl with perfectly manicured nails.
“ Who are you…?“ was the words Rambo heard his own mouth say.
“ She is Katy Copycat…copy-cat Katy….familiar to the head of the Heolgerrig Coven’ came a voice booming out of the computer speakers.
“She is a harbinger of doom….an’ Evil Woman!”…said the voice…re- starting the ELO flashbacks for Rambo.
“ I know your face …your Dic Penderyn! “ announced Rambo staring at the computer screen.
“ Well the rope does give it away!…. Announced Penderyn.
“ What does she want with me?” asked Rambo fingering hovering over the computer delete button.
Don’t push me …the button seemed to say as Rambo’s legs turned to stone.
“ Remember the book of shadows ….?“ came a male voice steppingforth from the darkness of the 700’s sporting section.
“ I know you too ……your world champion Howard Winstone …you’re myand everyone in Merthyr’s hero…you beat everyone they threw at you…you didn’t beat the Grim Reaper too!”
Looking to his rightRambo could see that Katy Copycat had transformed from her initial youthful selfinto a200 year woman and then into the deathly figurebut the whole timewas busily manicuring her cuticles with her scythe.
“ Out of the way …fatty… boomedMatchstick Man World championJohnny Owen to the Grim Reaper…..” butt…you should be like all us Gurnos and Swansea Road muckers ….leave allbookswell alone….. their dangerous see ….!
“ Yeah , too much of a Gamble!” ….said another famous Penydarren shadow- Boxer.
“ Win stone….win coal….Win iron…Win steel ….my Howard could win any one…announced Commonwealth Boxing legend and top promoter Eddie Thomas…and he beat that Mexican Saldivar in Cardiff in 1967too…dodgy judges!”
“ I can’t believe it ….all my boxing heroes in one room and a manicured Southpaw …come to see me…I feel champion.“ replied Rambo.
“ but why me…what do you all want…”
“ You accidentally summoned us when you opened the Gran Grimwar- the Book of Shadows was consulted by us all before we fought our way to the top…it brings mixed blessings… to all true Celtic Warriors…..!”
“ So that’s why the Rugby Team folded!….said Dic Penderyn from the computer speakers“
“ So that’s how you won…. Johnny …you cast a spell on your opponents….and that’s why Winstone was known as the Welsh Wizard…. but if that’s the case…. You won British Empire and Commonwealthand European Titles ….. so how come you didn’t win the World Title Eddie…?
“ Easy….Same judges as the Saldivar fight…of course…he replied head bowed uncomplaining.
“ Mixed Blessings”….muttered Rambo as he pressed the key board realisingthat he didn’t need a crystal ball to know the Newbury result.
“ Rubbish ….chuckled Winstone …“Eddiewas always ‘second’ to me… chuckled the ever mischievous Howard.
“ Can I see the price anyway ?“ Rambo asked the Reaper.
Who nodded a reply
His legs like his horse had ‘Turned to Stone’ and the £55,000.00riding on the final horse was lost .
“ Gone Bust….I see now !“ replied Rambo ….“Rocky times Ahead…. it is clear as a ring-side bell…!”
“ Oh , by the way….said Dic Penderyn……I did stab that Brecon Soldier Sergeant Donald Black…it WAS me…he wouldn’t let me in the Kirkhouse see….thanks for the pardon anyway…I blamed Rolf Harris Grandfather on his death bed!”
“ Mixed Blessings” was the echoing words of the trio of boxers and the Head Librarian asthey alldisappeared into the night.
******************************
As the Council Leader , Mayor and other dignitaries stood outside the Central Library.
Many people were baffled by the events of the night before.
Why was a dead man with no tongue found in the reading room.
Why were two ’Gurnos Muckers’ found killed by a Badger in Cwm Glo woods.
Why was visting celebrity Rolf Harris trapped all night by his beard to the Library front door.
Oh and where exactlyhad Rambo gone… his mother had rung into lifeline.
Asthey introduced the brother of Neath MP Peter Hain to the stand all was to be revealed.
“ I , Sam Hainnewly installed President of the Dic Penderyn Society hereby declare this fourth Celtic statue in Merthyr Town Centre to benow open”
If the good people of Merthyr had lookedclosely at the Statues in St Tydfil Square that morning they would not have believed their eyes.
The statues ofHoward Winstone and Johnny Owen appeared to smile knowing they had an new ‘Spar’ringpartner.
And the ‘eddie- face ‘ in Bethesda Street which had fought many bouts for and against the Council kept stony faced about their secret.
“ Did they ever find the body of Simon ’Rambo’ Stallone” asked Sam Hain leaning on the Ginger and Grey streaked Statue.
The inscription written in Wenglish on the Central Library statute plinth read mysteriously .
“ Don’t push me…I’ve gone bust!”
Press Release
A Celebration of Welsh Music in NYC
Welsh choral composer Paul Mealor, Wales premier mixed voice choir Crdydd, and leading Welsh harpist Gwenllian Llyr, will join forces in March to present a magical evening of Welsh choral music at one of New Yorks best concert venues.
Described in the New York Times as one of the most important composers to have emerged in Welsh choral music since William Mathias , Paul Mealor was catapulted to international attention in 2011 when his motet Ubi Caritas was performed at the Royal Wedding Ceremony of His Royal Highness Prince William and Catherine Middleton, now HRH The Duchess of Cambridge.
He is also the first classical composer to hold both the UK classical and pop chart No 1's at the same time in December 2011 with Wherever You Are , a piece written for the British Military Wives Choir, and his music has rapidly entered the repertoire of choirs and singers around the world.
Mealor will conduct performances of many of his main works including Ubi Caritas and Wherever You Are at a one off concert in Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall on Saturday March 29th . The evening will also feature the US premiere of A Welsh Prayer , a new work for choir and harp.
First Performance in America
C rdydd have enjoyed phenomenal success in recent years winning the Choir of the Festival Prize at the National Eisteddfod two years in a row in 2012 and 2013, and this opportunity to sing at Carnegie Hall is a new high for the choir.
The concert will be the choirs first performance in America, however it is not their first American connection. They welcomed Eric Whitacre, one of the most popular composers of our time, to Wales in 2010 and again in 2011 to conduct special concerts of his works. And in 2013 they toured Welsh cathedrals with both National Medal of Arts recipient, composer Morten Lauridsen and Paul Mealor.
Lauridsen, Whitacre and Mealor have all praised Crdydd for their special sound and musicality. To my mind this is the best choir in Wales, says Mealor, and I am thrilled to have the opportunity to collaborate with them again - and to do so in such a prestigious venue.
Internationally Recognized Welsh Harpist
The choir and composer will be joined at the concert by Welsh harpist Gwenllian Llyr , who is quickly gaining international recognition for her energetic and charismatic performances.
Gwenllian has strong connections with New York City having recently graduated with a Master of Music degree from The Juilliard School where she was awarded the William Schuman prize for outstanding achievement and leadership in music. And she is currently working at the Royal Academy of Music, London.
She said: I cant wait to come back to New York a city that is very close to my heart and to collaborate with Paul Mealor and C rdydd. There is a long tradition of singing with the harp in Wales, and this concert will be an opportunity to showcase this tradition and for me to perform some Welsh compositions for the harp.
Showcasing the best of Wales
In addition to performing works by Paul Mealor, Gwenllian and Crdydd will perform works by other leading Welsh composers including Karl Jenkins and William Mathias, together with arrangements of some of the best loved songs and hymns of Wales.
Concert organiser, Llyr Roberts, said: The evening will be a real celebration of Welsh choral and harp music, and will be an opportunity to showcase best of Wales in New York. The Choir will also be performing at a Cymanfa Ganu, a Welsh hymn singing event organised by the Welsh Congregation of New York on Sunday March 30. So it promises to be a great weekend!
Tickets for the concert purchased online at carnegiehall.org, and further details about the event and the choir can be found at cordydd.com and on Twitter @cordydd.
ENDS
Notes for Editors
1. Paul Mealor was born in St Asaph, North Wales in 1975. He studied composition with William Mathias and later with John Pickard, at the University of York, gaining a BA in 1997 and a PhD 2002. Since 2003 he has been Professor of Composition at the University of Aberdeen. His music has been commissioned and performed at many festivals and by many orchestras and choruses, and broadcast on major TV and Radio stations throughout the world. More details about Paul Mealor can be found at www.paulmealor.com
2. Crdydd was founded in 2000 and the choir has been conducted by Sioned James from the start. It is a mixed choir with about 45 members. The choir have won their category at the Eisteddfod 8 times in the last 13 years, and have been awarded the Choir of the Festival title 4 times in Cardiff (2008), Wrexham (2011), The Vale of Glamorgan (2012) and Denbigh (2013). They rehearse every Thursday night in Salem Chapel, Cardiff through the medium of Welsh. More details about the choir can be found at www.cordydd.com
3. Gwenllian Llyr recently graduated with a Master of Music degree in Harp Performance at The Julliard School where she was awarded the William Schuman prize for outstanding achievement and leadership in music. She has won a number of awards including the prestigious Blue Ribbon at the National Eisteddfod of Wales, First Prize at the UK Camac Harp Competition in 2010 and Seventh Prize at the USA International Harp Competition in Bloomington, Indiana, also in 2010. She has performed with renowned artists such as jazz legend Al Jarreau, actor Mathew Rhys, and international opera singer Bryn Terfel with whom she has performed for HRH The Prince of Wales at Buckingham Palace. More details about Gwenllian can be found at gwenllianllyr.co.uk.
4. The Evening of Welsh Choral Music with Paul Mealor and Crdydd will be held on Saturday March 29 at 7:30 PM in Zankel Hall a Carnegie Hall. Tickets for the concert are available at carnegiehall.org | CarnegieCharge 212-247-7800 | Box Office at 57th and Seventh.
5. The Welsh Congregation of New York City gather once a month at Rutgers Presbyterian Church on the Upper West Side of Manhattan for worship, song and socializing. A Cymanfa Ganu is a traditional Welsh hymn singing event. Further information about the Congregation and the March 30 event can be found at http://nycwelsh.com/
Contact Details
For further details including media enquiries contact Llr Roberts, Crdydd Concert and Tour Organiser on +44 7981 014164 / cordyddnyc@gmail.com
"I dont care what the ultrasound picture shows there is definitely more than one up there!" said the newly qualified Doctor. Jamie Roberts lowered his Davy Helmet so that the light didn't blind the expectant father , his Royal Highness the future Prince of Wales.
"Look I dont tell you how to fly that RAF Valley helicopter now do I ?" reasoned the former Cardiff medic. From inside the womb the twin babies continued their foetal conversation.
"Look I am not going out first into the land of the giants. Have you seen the size on that Doctors head?" said the male heir.
"Why should I go first?" asked the female twin.
"Well everybody knows its Ladies first when it comes to the aristocracy!" replied her brother.
"But if I go first it might cause a constitutional crisis on the issue of female succession!" replied the little girl.
"That one was probably hiding behind the other on the scan. Look theres definitely two of them up there. I can see three legs and hear them talking!" said Jamie.
"There was only one on the ultrasound and being an RAF pilot I know my radar screens!" said the Duke of Cambridge.
"Do you mind. I don't really care how many are hiding up there. It's not a Romanian lorry at Dover customs. Could you pass the pethadene?" asked the future Royal Mam.
"Is there any chance you could also ask the staff at the state hospital to stop taking photographs of my wifes lower parts on their camera-phones? I asked for a room with view not a Womb with a view !" said William.
"I am sorry but you will appreciate this is a state Hospital the Queen Camilla Hospital in Merthyr Tydfil - we treat everyone on an equal footing, gypsies AND future kings!" said the Doctor.
"I got a feeling that one of the babies whose head was engaged has headed North again as I can see its tiny little legs now!" he continued.
"Once more unto the breech Prince Harry!" sighed William as his brother looked on at the spectacle.
You'll never look at THAT the same way again brother! said Harry laughing. At least it proves we are blue blooded! he continued.
"Oh why couldn't you have flown me to a proper hospital which isn't on the top of the mortality league table?" groaned Kate.
"I told you, someone left the helicopter petrol tank half empty on his jolly back to Afghanistan !" said William pointing the Royal finger at his brother.
"I think its great that a future King and Prince of Wales be born in Wales !" said Harry trying to change the subject. "At least down here Grandpapa and Grand Maam wont interfere with your plans!" The soldier continued.
"Do you have any names yet?" asked the Doctor.
"Jamie is nice! Jamie Al Fayed Zorba Windsor Saxe De Coburg. Does have a pleasant ring to it!" said Harry.
"Great name for an English King after all Jamie IS a strong rugby mans name!" said the British Lion.
"Old HRH Mirren would have a thrombo if she heard that one!" said William laughing. "Though come to think of it our mother was fond of strong rugby players names!" said Harry.
"Carling anyone?" asked Jamie drinking from a can. "Come on its a celebration. It's not every day you get to deliver a future monarch!"
"Carling IS a nice name!" mumbled Kate.
From inside the womb the pair of siblings tested each other out.
"Well if you wont go down the chute first why don't we go down together?" suggested the female.
"Good idea one leg each we can pop out together. Do you think that giant with the head of a Cwmtaff Swede can catch us both at the same time?" asked the male.
"Well he is wearing a tee- shirt bearing the slogan Welsh & Irish Lions destroyers of Australia 2013I assume he must be a rugger chap!" said the female.
"Good spot. He should not only be able to catch us but throw us a dummy in the same movement!" said the male.
"Well if you go first you'll be third in line to the throne. Me just by virtue of my gender will be way down the Royal pecking order. I'll probably be married orf to a European Duke to secure a peace treaty or something!" said the female.
"Okay!" she said putting her leg in the delivery chute. As she did so her brother threw her a dummy of his own and shoved her in the back to the point of no return.
"Bastard!" she yelled as she flew down the uterus like a kid in a Walt Disneys Typhoon Lagoon water ride culminating with her head sticking out of the Middleton Minge.
"Well this little Princess didnt have much trouble exiting this tunnel. Just checking that there is no obstruction. Whats this ?" asked Dr Rhino Pads 2013.
"Whats wrong?" asked a nervous Duke .
"Never seen this before. The umbilical cord is caught around something ...it's okay it is a little silver spoon in her mouth. Don't worry this child will never know hunger, fear or working stress in their lifetime!" said Jamie.
"Shit it doesn't have any front bits Willy?" said Harry dejectedly.
"Thats because its a girl!" said Jamie. "I learned the difference in the University Cardiff Medical School!"
"Are you sure its not unisex?" asked Harry looking down at the ladies parts. "I had plenty of that too being in the Welsh Rugby team but definitely a flatcock! Dad is going to be pissed orf. We carefully selected her for breeding to give us a king. Look what happened to our ancestor Henry the Eighth and the country after his six attempts to get it right!" said William.
"I told you should have gone for Pippa!" said Harry.
"Is there any thing we can do Doc to change things? Can we offer you a Knighthood or something in the New Years Honours List to put that one back up or throw it out with the bathwater?" asked Wills.
"Now Sir Jamie to add to my BMA MD..GS..TC !" said Jamie scratching his massive Neanderthal chin. Despite his caveman look he was the first rugby player to have a brain since JPR Williams.
"Sorry to interrupt but I have an obstruction the size of a melon in a hole originally the size of a grape and this pethadene has stopped helping!" said Kate two heads.
"If I take THAT out the other one is going to be kicked out of the womb by gravity!" said the William Webb Ellis scientist.
With a slight of hand that magician Paul Daniels would be proud of Jamie removed the baby girl and plugged the hole in one movement.
"That should hold you for a couple of hours. Now get her in the Sea King and off to St Marys Hospital London with you sharpish!" said Dr Roberts.
As the press gathered outside the hospital Nicholas Witchell and Prince Charles exchanged scowls at one another.The Royal baby had been born and weighed in at 8lb 6 ounces.The Harley Street experts were puzzled as to why there was a rugby ball lodged in the undercarriage of the Duchess of Cambridge. And the name the Royal couple decided on for the male heir born without hair? Gilbert. Arise Sir Jamie!
