The term Sin Eater does sound like the title of a dodgy horror film. In fact perhaps it is. I wouldnt know. But I came across it in a news item on the BBC last month (September 2010)
It is a fascinating idea and perhaps you will not be surprised to learn that this ancient tradition survived in the east of Wales and just over the border in Shropshire and Herefordshire longer than anywhere else. Indeed, it was still practiced into the early 20th century.
It is a bizarre adoption process I suppose. After a death someone would be paid to eat and drink over the body. As a result of the ritual the sin eater would take on the sins of the dead person and their soul would then be able to rest, free of sin. The church wasnt that keen on the idea but often the local vicar would turn a blind eye in order to keep his parishioners happy.
Often the ritual was performed by a beggar, although some villages had a resident sin-eater. They would turn up at the bedside, where a relative would place a crust of bread on the chest of the dying and pass a bowl of beer to him. I imagine that if you thought you were just a bit under the weather and the sin eater was lurking in the background, waiting for a snack, you would start to worry. Anyway, after praying or reciting the ritual, he would then drink and eat the bread, thus adopting the sins of the dying.
As I said, it was mentioned on the BBC in connection with the grave of Richard Munslow who died in Ratlinghope in 1906. The grave stone has recently been restored since he was a well known farmer in the area who had a second career as a sin eater, munching on scraps of bread whilst others squabbled about the inheritance. I would have thought that for those with rather more interesting lives, a three course meal would have been more appropriate than a dry crust in order to absolve them of sin, but perhaps I am being unkind. However, I have to say it is odd to think that this sort of thing was going on in the lifetime of my grandparents.
I end this piece with this passage by B.S. Puckle in a book called Funeral Customs (1926) which goes to show how odd people can be.

"Professor Evans of the Presbyterian College, Carmarthen, actually saw a sin-eater about the year 1825, who was then living near Llanwenog, Cardiganshire. Abhorred by the superstitious villagers as a thing unclean, the sin-eater cut himself off from all social intercourse with his fellow creatures by reason of the life he had chosen; he lived as a rule in a remote place by himself, and those who chanced to meet him avoided him as they would a leper. This unfortunate was held to be the associate of evil spirits, and given to witchcraft, incantations and unholy practices; only when a death took place did they seek him out, and when his purpose was accomplished they burned the wooden bowl and platter from which he had eaten the food handed across, or placed on the corpse for his consumption"

A bit mean when all is said and done. You provide a valuable service and this is how you are treated. No wonder that as a career option it never really caught on.

Thats a headline you never expected to see on the Americymru website is it? Neither did I to be honest. I found it in a copy of The Caernarvon and Denbigh Herald. It is all about two lectures delivered in October 1843 in the County Hall in Denbigh. Bet you wish youd been there.On the first of the two nights the Mayor turned up and spoke in support of Mr. Jones, who clearly had remarkable gifts for all to see. The Mayor began his introduction by hoping that the people of Denbigh would be more charitable to the esteemed gentleman than the people of Mold. Well, they have always been a hard and cynical lot in Mold. Now we cant be sure exactly what he Mold-ites did but I think we can guess.You see, it appears they were not grateful for the opportunity to witness so strange a science. Indeed, they were not, apparently, impressed by some striking phenomena. In fact they seem to have let themselves down rather badly by being not terribly polite about what they saw. It was ever thus, in Mold.I cant tell you how it went on that first evening in Denbigh, but I do know that on the following night the audience was thin and that they were inclined to be sceptical until Mr. Jones mesmerised his two, presumably tame, patients the dumb young man and Miss C. Davies at the same time.I dont find that terribly impressive to be honest, since I myself have seen whole classes of children slip into a deep coma the moment I start to speak, but perhaps we should let that pass.Anyway, these two patients were then separated and the young man was taken into an adjoining room where Mr. Jones started to work his magic.He excited in the male patient, in the presence of several persons...the organ of thirst, which was no sooner done, than the female, who was left in charge of some gentlemen on the platform, manifested, by sympathy, the same desire to the complete astonishment of all.Whatever was suggested to him was illustrated by the girl on the platform. Everyone was mightily impressed. All doubts and scepticism were dismissed. Truly a triumph. The article ends with the re-assuring words that the demonstration has advanced the science in the town of Denbigh. A proud boast indeed.I am not sure to what extent Denbigh is still regarded as a leading edge community in the development of phreno-mesmerism, but on the whole I think my sympathies lie with the good people of Mold.

In June 1912 there was a reception for him back in Wales, at the Barmouth Picture Pavilion, and over 1000 people attended. Here he was presented with gifts of nautical equipment from grateful survivors. They were inscribed:To Harold Godfrey Lowe, 5th Officer RMS Titanic. The real hero of the Titanic. With deepest gratitude.Harold Lowe had found a place in history and he was born and died in Wales He ran away to sea when he was perhaps as young as 14. An impetuous decision perhaps, but it was one which set him on the path of fate.Harold Lowe was born in November 1882 in Llandrillo yn Rhos and spent his childhood in Barmouth, learning to sail on the Mawddach estuary. When the time came, he objected to his fathers suggestion that he should take up an apprenticeship. I was not going to work for anybody for nothing. So off he went. He ended up spending five years working along the west coast of Africa before he joined the White Star Line. He worked his way up the ranks. He served as Third Officer on a couple of their liners before he was assigned to the Titanic in March 1912. The largest, safest and most luxurious ship in the world. A great honour that promised to be the start of a glittering career. To be sure, he would make his mark, but not in the way he anticipated.Lowe was one of the officers who tested two lifeboats to fulfil Board of Trade requirements before the Titanic left Southampton. But because this ship was truly unsinkable, lifeboat provision was hardly important. In fact Captain Smith decided not to hold a lifeboat drill to familiarise passengers and crew with procedures. It was the last time such a thing was allowed to happen.To begin with everything was entirely routine and Lowe got on with his watches.On Sunday 14 April 1912 he was relieved at 8.15 pm and went straight to bed. This would explain why, when the ship hit the fateful iceberg at 11.40 pm, he was fast asleep. Contact with a large solitary iceberg popped rivets and buckled hull plates below the waterline. From that moment the great ship was doomed.When Lowe responded to the commotion and made it up on to the deck, there were passengers wearing lifebelts and the boats were being made ready for lowering. It was at this time that they started to realise that there were insufficient berths in the boats for the number of passengers they carried. But then, why should there have been? The Titanic was unsinkable, an idea offering little comfort as the great ship began to settle and tilt in the water. Harold could feel it under his feet, the bow moving downwards and, anticipating the imminent chaos around him, he returned to his cabin to collect his revolver.He started to help passengers into boats, though he was particularly concerned that some were being over-filled and that the boats would thus collapse. He had experience of boats from his childhood, but many of the other seamen had not, and they had to man and lower 20 boats without even having practised the necessary procedure.It was for this reason that he had an encounter with Bruce Ismay, the managing director of the White Star Line, who was travelling on this auspicious voyage. He told Ismay to get out of his way, for he had work to do. In fact he told him to get the hell out of the way. He knew what he was doing, he knew experienced crew had to take control and because of this they lowered Boat 5 with 39 people on it. His outburst would later endear Lowe to the press, since Ismay was vilified for surviving when so many others who put their faith in his company did not. Thus Harold became a spokesman for so many others in that moment.To us, Lowes use of excitable language to his boss is understandable in such circumstances, but it was a shocking transgression to his contemporaries. It became a notorious moment, a key element in the mythology of the sinking, but it was not half as notorious as when Lowe fired his revolver to establish a sense of order when he crossed over to the other side of the ship to supervise the lowering of Boat 14.These were completely unexpected circumstances and Lowe rose to the occasion, taking control and bringing an order that would allow a lucky few to survive. He took responsibility, seeing that duty transcended status. The scene on the decks was peculiar. People were having to deal with the one thing they never felt would happen, and in the early stages of the sinking many of them thought it would all be sorted out. It was impossible to think that the cold open sea was safer than the huge illuminated liner. It was nothing more than a ghastly mistake.The instruction that it was women and children first meant that some couples refused to be separated and watched the drama in an almost detached way, arm in arm. With insufficient boats and no ordered way of allocating places, such a random approach to survival was perhaps inevitable.Some boats were lowered with insufficient passengers. In other areas of the ship there were scenes of chaos, with men disguising themselves as women to get themselves a precious place in a lifeboat. These boats were in danger of being overloaded, particularly Boat 14, where passengers tried to force themselves on board as it was being lowered. Lowe forced out a young man hiding beneath a seat, and fired his revolver into the night sky to stop the boat being swamped by desperate men. He was the officer with responsibility for the boat. I saw a lot of Italians, Latin people, all along the ships rails and they were all glaring, more or less like wild beasts, ready to spring.Lowe later apologised to the Italian Ambassador for such unnecessary comments.The tackle for lowering the boat had become jammed and it stopped about 5 feet from the surface. Lowe ordered the ropes to be cut and the lifeboat slapped down into the sea. Whilst they baled out the boat with their hats, Lowe took them all away from the Titanic.He assembled other lifeboats into a small fleet , tying some of them together for safety. He was completely the man in charge, squashing more survivors into the boats under his control. Whilst the survivors felt they were overcrowded, Lowe knew there was still room.From the comparative safety of their vantage point, Lowes passengers saw the Titanic sink. The stern rose high into the air, the lights went off, came on again and then went out forever. She slid beneath the calm sea. It was 2.20 am, a little over three hours since the collision with the iceberg. In the silence that followed, those in the lifeboats could hear the terrible cries of people struggling in the freezing water.When he decided it was safe he took his boat back into the wreckage to see if he could rescue anyone - the only person to do so. Even so it was a hard choice. He knew that he could not go back in too soon or he would be swamped by desperate people clinging to the boat in huge numbers. He had to wait for their numbers to diminish.When they eventually went back they were confronted by a terrible scene. There were hundreds of bodies, dead from hypothermia, floating in the sea, supported by their lifebelts. They could not row because of the number of corpses. They had to push their way through. They rescued four men, one of whom died quite soon afterwards. As they retreated from the awful wreckage they all burst into tears.As dawn broke he sailed the lifeboat back to the others and they waited, ready to be rescued by the Carpathia.His job was done. At the Board of Enquiry he was asked what he did next. He replied, There was nothing to do. All they could do was wait and stare at the huge expanse of water under which the Titanic had disappeared so quickly. It was an unlikely scene, for the Atlantic had been flat calm throughout the night.Of course many of the passengers were grateful for what he had done. But he refused any money that was offered him. I will never take money for doing my duty.The Titanic was his place in the sun, though in later life he rarely spoke about it at all and he willingly settled back into a more welcome obscurity. He married Ellen Whitehouse in 1913 and had two children. They were the future; the Titanic was behind him.But Lowe never lost his connection with the sea and spent the rest of his working life on it in some capacity or other. The First World War he spent in the Royal Naval Reserve and the second as an air raid warden. He died of a stroke on 12 May 1944. He was 61.Much later he would be played by the Welsh actor Ioan Gruffudd in the famous film which acknowledges his role in recuing survivors when he rescues the fictional lead Rose from the icy sea. In reality it was a Chinese man called Fang Lang who Lowe found and rescued from a floating door, not a love-lorn heroine.I cannot imagine that he would have enjoyed all the fuss and attention of a film.If you wish to pay your respects to Harold, you must leave the A55 in North Wales and take the B5115 to Llandudno. As you reach Rhos the road takes a sharp turn to the right and there, at the top of the rise on the right hand side, you will find the church. Harold is close up against the boundary wall of the ancient Llandrillo Church, next to the road.As befits a modest man of principal, his grave is understated and discreet. It carries no hint at all of the part that he played in one of the events of the century.Devoted HusbandHarold Godfrey LoweCom.R.D. R.N.R.I Thank my God uponEvery RemembranceOf You.

I was inspired to write this by a wooden drinking vessel which you can find in the National Museum in Cardiff, one of many such objects apparently, made from a great oak tree which blew down in a storm in 1813. The tree was called Derwen Ceubren yr Ellyll the Hollow Tree of the Demons - and it once stood on the old Nannau Estate near Dolgellau. And the legend will tell you that Owain Glyndwr once used the tree as a handy place in which to store the body of his cousin.The story of Owain Glyndwr is far too complex to explore properly here. His celebrity is based in part upon the fact that he was the last Welshman to hold the title of Prince of Wales although his dates are vague, from 1354 or 1359 to perhaps 1416. In the centuries since his death, so many different legends have accumulated around him. He has become a notable figure in popular culture and a famous military hero, beating the English forces through intelligent strategy and cunning. Like King Arthur he merely sleeps, waiting apparently for the moment when he will rise as the saviour of his homeland.He lived in turbulent times and his life was defined by conflict, leading a revolt against the rule of Henry IV. The rebellion ultimately failed and his last years were shrouded in mystery. He was neither betrayed nor captured and instead faded from view. Where he lived at the end of his life remained a mystery, although today it is generally believed that he lived with his daughter Alys at Monnington Straddel in Herefordshire, perhaps disguised as a friar.The episode which concerns me here comes from the height of the rebellion, in 1402. His cousin Hywel Sele, Lord of Nannau , was a supporter of the English crown. He invited Owain to his estate for what he claimed was to be the cut and thrust of political debate, with a bit of hunting thrown in. However, it appears to have turned into an assassination attempt.The two cousins went out hunting. Hywel Sele raised his bow to shoot a stag, but suddenly turned and fired directly at Owain. Clearly their relationship was not based upon trust on either side, for beneath his clothes Owain had prudently selected a chain mail vest. Owain did not have a particularly forgiving nature...At least that is one version. Another would suggest that as Hywel Sele aimed and turned to follow his target he suddenly discovered that he was aiming unexpectedly straight at Owain. He, well versed in the techniques of self preservation, immediately ran him through with his sword.Either way Hywel Sele was dead. Owain hid his body in the hollow oak tree and made off.Another version has an enraged Glyndwr obviously surviving the assassination attempt and imprisoning Hywel Sele in the tree before burning down his house, which just goes to show you how cross they could be in those days.But whichever version you prefer, they all come back to the idea of the body in the tree. And this legend certainly gave the tree its reputation as a haunted place of evil. Fire was said to hover above it; strange noises could be heard. It was the terror of every peasant for miles around.The family searched for Hywel but could not find him. He remained on the missing list until his skeleton was found inside the tree trunk 40 years later. Hywel Sele might have drifted into obscurity but at least the trees reputation was assured.Of course by the early nineteenth century Derwen Ceubren yr Ellyll was misshapen and ancient, in the last stages of decay. When the oak fell after being hit appropriately by lightning the wood was used to make commemorative items for the coming of age party of Robert Vaughan on 25 June 1824. He was a direct descendant of Hywel Sele and later became 3 Baronet of Nannau. It was quite a party they say, for which the Great White Ox of Nannau was slaughtered and roasted, which is certainly more dramatic than sending out for a pizza. The newspaper, the Salopian Journal said that the air was, resounding with joyful acclamations and that a number of Welsh bards and harpers were in attendance. It was definitely the place to be seen that special June day.At least the ancient tree wasnt just turned into firewood. A nineteenth century text tells us that the items made from the oak were valued by their fortunate possessors...as relics of so venerable and remarkable a parent. If you chose to believe the legends then those objects were made from a living coffin from long ago. It is one of these Ceubren cups that the museum holds.

He is remembered in the name of a street a pub and a school in Cardiff. His achievements are recorded on a clock face in Cardiff Bay but his grave lies forgotten and neglected in Cardiffs Cathays Cemetery.

His gravestone tells us

Captain E. T. Willows

Only beloved son of Joseph and Eva Willows

Died August 3 1926

At rest

The letters on the simple stone are metal and are falling off. Without them his grave will lose its identity and become no different from the others that have faded beyond recognition. Yet it is a perfect example of a story in Welsh Stone a fading,unremarkable gravestone, quietly shedding letters behind bushes in an overgrown part of a large cemetery, slowly slipping into the past and taking a fascinating story with it.

Ernest Thompson Willows, aviation pioneer and celebrity, 1886 1926.

He was born on 11 July 1886 at Newport Road in a house which is now used by the University. His father was a dentist and Ernest always intended to follow him, beginning his training in 1901. His great enthusiasm was flight. These early days were exciting ones, when the sky seemed to be opening up to all sorts of possibilities. It was the time of the Wright Brothers, of Bleriot, of Latham. Ascents by balloon had been commonplace for over 100 years but Willows wanted greater control and to reduce the effect of the wind on such flights. What he wanted to do was construct a rigid framed balloon or dirigible and to provide it with a motor and a crew who would be able to steer it. He was sure that the future of travel lay with the airship rather than the aeroplane. He had no formal technical training, no financial backing, merely blind enthusiasm.

He built his first airship, Willows 1 , in 1905, two years after the Wright Brothers significant achievement, when he was only 19. It was a silk envelope 74 feet long and 18 feet in diameter with a gondola beneath. It was driven by a 9 h-p Peugeot motorcycle engine. It had neither rudder nor elevator, relying upon the twin propellers which provided steering capability. It was flown for the first time at East Moors Cardiff for 85 minutes on 5 August. It had six flights. An improved version was built in 1909 which was called Willows 2. The craft was a little longer and bigger. He landed in a great publicity stunt outside Cardiff City Hall on 4 June 1910 and then flew back to his shed at East Moors. He wanted to win a 50 prize for the first such flight over Cardiff. A week later he repeated the flight to raise funds for the Infirmary. Willows was always trying to attract attention to his projects. He was a committed enthusiast but always lacked sponsorship or support.

In July 1910 it flew from Cheltenham to Cardiff in four hours and then in August Willows 2 flew from Cardiff to London.

This was a significant moment.

The flight was a record for a cross country flight in Britain at 122 miles and he became the first aviator to fly across the Bristol Channel under power. The journey took 10 hours. He had to descend to about 12 feet off the ground and ask for dircections from stunned people via a megaphone. The world was not yet ready for this simple SatNav prototype. In the end he followed the train line.

He made sure that he flew down the Thames and over St. Pauls cathedral for he was always eager to place his airship in the same frame as important landmarks.

On arrival he heard of a prize of 2000 for the first man to fly from Paris to London so he decided to take the airship over the channel in order to make an attempt. Willows 2 was re-built and lengthened and called originally Willows 3 . It first flew at the end of October 1910 over White City. Then it was re-named The City of Cardiff. It was now time for adventures.

On 11 November 1910 he flew the City of Cardiff across the Channel heading for Paris with his mechanic Frank Godden. The journey was not without incident.

There was thick fog over the Channel. There was a mechanical problem which required Willows to climb out on to the balloon envelope to fix it in the dark Petrol froze in the engine. Then Godden dropped their maps over the side and into the sea.

Eventually the airship came down at Corbehem, between Arras and Douai because of a problem with the silk envelope. On landing the French customs tried to charge him 30 import duty on his fuel. In the end it took almost 8 weeks to reach Paris.

He arrived on 28 December 1910 and on New Years Eve he was taking flights around the Eiffel Tower to illustrate the manoeuvrability of the design. This however illustrated his constant difficulty. His balloon fascinated as a novelty but he could not attract he investment he craved to take his concept further.

He returned to Cardiff with his balloon by road, unable to face any more continental dramas and also apparently to escape the customs officials.

Ernest Willows moved to Birmingham and built a new airship Willows 4 which was flown in 1912 and was sold to the Admiralty where it became His Majestys Naval Airship Number 2. They paid 1,050 for it. This one was more streamlined and has two four-bladed propellers and a two-seater gondola which was soon extended to accommodate a third man. It had a maximum speed of 50 mph.

Production was moved to Welsh Harp in Hendon in 1913, where he developed Willows 5 . This one had a rubberised fabric and a gondola for 4 people. He used it largely to take people on trips above London.

Of course the war intervened and he built barrage balloons in Westgate Street in Cardiff and also in Llanishen. In fact he developed a barrage balloon which flew twice as high- at 10,000 feet -as the previous limit. In 1916 he joined the Royal Flying Corps and became a captain, constantly suggesting new ideas and refinements.

His enthusiasm however made him little money. After the war he continued with ballooning though perhaps with a growing realisation that great success would elude him. By October 1921 he was living on a decaying river boat on the Thames and watching others develop the airship.

There is a great sadness that just before he died he would have known that Amundsen had flown over the North Pole in the airship Norge piloted by the Italian Umberto Nobile. It could have been him. If only....

Willows was reduced to tethered balloon flights at fairs. And that is how he died.

He was killed on 23 August 1926 at a Flower show in Hoo Park Kempston, Bedford whilst taking people on aerial joy rides. The net covering the balloon tore away and the basket plunged to the ground killing him and his four passengers.

He had been the first person to hold a pilots certificate for an airship from the Royal Aero Club but he had been left behind by a lack of support and finance and his dreams and schemes fell to earth just as he did.

You will find him in Cathays, in the largest municipal cemetery in Wales. It is very hard to find your way around but the very helpful Cathays Cemetery Heritage Trail will guide you to Grave Number 20.

You can download the guide from http://www.cardiff.gov.uk/objview.asp?Object_ID=3764&

I have also posted this story on my own website - and if you go there you will find some pictures of the man, his balloons and his grave... www.storiesinwelshstone.co.uk

On the A40 at halfway between Llandovery and Brecon there is a memorial to a stage coach disaster. If your speed is as unrestrained as that of the coach driver you could miss it. There is an obelisk enclosed by iron railings, next to a busy road. At the bottom of a steep slope on the other side of the road the Afon Gwydderig rushes and roars just as it did in 1835. On some maps it is marked simply by the word Memorial. But that single word does not do justice to the surprising nature of this simple pillar that stands under the trees in a dark lay-by.So what is it?It is one of the earliest warnings against drink-driving, thats what it is. It is called the Coachmans Cautionary.It marks the spot where the Gloucester to Carmarthen coach plunged off the road and down a precipice on 19 December 1835. According to the inscription the driver, Edward Jenkins was intoxicated at the time and drove the mail on the wrong side of the road ...at full speed or gallop. The coach went over the precipice 121 feet where at the bottom near the river it came against an ash tree when the coach was dashed into several pieces. Obviously Jenkins was the single common ancestor of White Van Man.The memorial was erected as a caution to mail coach drivers to keep from intoxication. Quite right too in my view. No one should ever be asked to entrust their life to a man in charge of a bottle, a whip and a number of horses.The obelisk was designed by J. Bull, Inspector of Mail coaches. It is reassuring to know that he took his responsibilities seriously. He tells us that Colonel Gwynn of Glan Brian Park , Daniel Jones and a man called Edwards were sitting outside, up there with the driver. Didnt they notice that Jenkins was over-refreshed? Or were they passing the bottle around? Not wise really when you consider that one of the three inside passengers was a solicitor from Llandovery called David Lloyd Harris. A solicitor can be very touchy in certain circumstances, I find.Bull used the 13 pounds 16 shillings and sixpence he received from 41 subscribers to erect the obelisk in 1841. How very public spirited they were in those days. As an Inspector with both technical and human resource management responsibilities how he must have yearned for the breathalyser and the invention of traffic calming measures.But I think it was money well spent. It might not have been as hard hitting or as effective as recent road safety campaigns but it has survived a great deal longer.

The Story of GelertGelert is the name of a legendary dog which has become entwined with the village of Beddgelert in Gwynedd. And if you dont already know it, the knowledge that the name of the village has been translated as Gelerts Grave might give you some clue where this story is going.The inscription on the tomb down by the river tells the story in both English and Welsh.In the 13 century Llewellyn, prince of Wales, had a place in Beddgelert.One day he went hunting without Gelert, The Faithful Hound, who was unaccountably absent.On Llewellyns return the truant, smeared in blood, sprang to meet his master.The prince alarmed hastened to find his son, and saw the infants cot empty, the bedclothes and floor covered in blood.The frantic father plunged his sword into the hounds side, thinking it had killed his heir.The dogs dying yell was answered by a childs cry.Llewellyn searched and discovered his boy unharmed.But nearby lay the body of a mighty wolf which Gelert had slain.The prince filled with remorse is said to have never smiled again.He buried Gelert here.The spot is called Beddgelert.It is a touching story of course and an important Welsh Folk tales. However, things are never quite what they seem. It is more likely to be an early equivalent of a modern urban myth. The name of the village for example is probably a reference to Saint Kilart or Celert, rather than any faithful and vigilant dog.Also the dogs grave mound, which can be found just south of the village, on the footpath which follows the river Glaslyn is more likely to be the work of the landlord of the Goat Hotel in Beddgelert in the late eighteenth century. His name was David Pritchard and his motive was simply to boost the tourist trade by connecting an old folk tale with the village.Of course this is not unusual. This is what happened in France in the village of Rennes le Chateau, where a hotel owner used rumours and speculation to boost his own business and in doing so created a conspiracy industry that lead directly to The Da Vinci Code.The story of the faithful dog appears in many different cultures .We will never know whether they are all variants of the same story so we can never know which one came first. Was it the Welsh story? Or was it the native American version? Or perhaps it originated in the Alps where a shepherd kills his sheepdog which he finds covered in blood. Naturally it had been protecting the flock from a wolf, not indulging in a forbidden snack. In India the story involves a mongoose that kills a snake and is wrongly punished just like Gelert, and in Malaysia the story is about a tame bear that protects a child from a ravenous tiger and is killed for his efforts.Did the stories evolve separately in different cultures, bringing together grief, anger and guilt in a gripping plot designed for children? Who can tell? But certainly the story of Gelert is not unique.It doesnt matter. It has been a fruitful subject for artists, poets and other writers and if it attracts people to a beautiful part of North Wales then it really doesnt matter much. And certainly as a story it will run and run...

Halloween. It is one of the oldest festivals of all, and represents a curious mixture of many different traditions. The Celts called it Samhain, a festival that provided a boost for people as they entered the long dark winter months, when the countryside seemed dead and the days seemed so short.

Over time it became mixed in with All Saints Day, a day set aside for those poor saints who didnt have a day of their own.

Originally it represented the end of the harvest season and the beginning of a new year. The Welsh term for the festival is Nos Calan Gaeaf - a reference to the beginning of winter. As we all know today it is regarded as a time when the boundaries between the living and the dead become blurred.

A door to another reality opened up briefly and all sorts of horrors spilled out. So bonfires were lit to frighten away the spirits. This was the time in the Welsh tradition when Hwch Ddu Cwta appeared the Black Sow.

They would light bonfires and roast apples (and in later years potatoes) and leap through the flames to bring good luck. Then they would throw stones in the fire and run home to escape Hwch Ddu who would be on the prowl. On the first of November they would return to look for their stone. If they could find it then you were guaranteed good luck for the New Year. If you couldnt then you were facing bad luck, or even death.

Apples played an important part in Samahin because it came at the end of the apple harvest and there were plenty around. Apple bobbing was common. The most successful technique, assuming they had no stalks, was to plunge into the barrel and trap the apple against the bottom. Boys have always been so competitive.

In another apple game, one was tied to a stick suspended from the ceiling with a candle tied to the other. It was spun around and you had to catch the apple with your teeth. How they laughed when someone got a face full of wax.

There was also the Puzzle Jug. It had many spouts and you had to guess which one was correct. Get it wrong and you would be soaked by beer or cider. I bet they could hardly wait for the invention of television.

A lot of the traditions seem to centre upon finding a partner.In Montgomeryshire villages they would make a large vegetable mash in which a ring would be hidden. The local girls would dig into it with wooden spoons. The one who found it would be the first to be married. In Carmarthenshire nine girls would gather together to make a pancake of nine ingredients. They would divide it up into nine pieces and eat it. As a result they would, before morning, have a vision of their future husband. Which may or may not have been a good idea.

In Scotland, as you can see similar traditions outlined in Robert Burns poem Halloween. A girl could eat an apple in front of a mirror and she would see her future husband looking over her shoulder, presumably telling her that the porridge needed stirring.

Alternatively she could hang a wet shirt sleeve in front of the fire to dry and watch it closely. At midnight the spirit of her future partner would appear and turn it round a fascinating idea completely destroyed by the invention of the tumble drier.

Everywhere Halloween has been a time for the universal walking abroad of spirits, a time when the boundaries between our world and the spirit world are momentarily lowered. A time of inversion, when everything was turned upside down. In parts of Wales it became a bit of a cross-dressing festival. Boys and girls would swap clothes and go from home to home, chanting verses and spells and asking for gifts of fruit or nuts which were used to predict the future.

Other boys might dress up in sheepskins and rags and blacken their faces. They were the gwrachod (hags or witches) and they would look for gifts of apples or nuts or beer. Their job was to drive away evil spirits from the home. Clearly an early variation on the theme of trick or treat.

Of course, these days the role of the Trick or Treaters themselves has changed. They are the evil spirits who should be driven away.