The 'Welsh Merlin' of politics, David Lloyd George, had many Pembrokeshire connections.

Lloyd George's ancestors marched to Bosworth with Henry Tudor and, for their services,were rewarded with grants of land in Pembrokeshire.

During the nineteenth century, Lloyd George's father, William, was articled to Dr. Brown of Haverfordwest.

Finding medicine a disagreeable profession, he turned to teaching and opened a school in Mathry, a small hamlet between Fishguard and St. David's. One of his earliest pupils was Augustus John's father.

William George's first wife was Miss Huntley of Haverfordwest. They were married only a short while before she died and was buried in the churchyard of St Thomas a Beckett.

William then married Elizabeth Lloyd, who became David Lloyd George's mother.Their son was born in Manchester in 1863.

After his father's early death, Elizabeth tookherfamily to live in Caernarvonshire, with her brother, a cobbler.

David Lloyd George became a solicitor andhad a keen understanding of social injustice and poverty.

While still practising as a solicitor, he was elected as a Liberal MP for Caernarvon Boroughs in April, 1890, the youngest MP to sit in the House.

In 1908, there was a bye-election in Pembrokeshire, in which Walter Roch won a Liberal victory.

Roch was warmly congratulated by Lloyd George who sent a telegram: 'Bravo! Feel prouder of my native land than ever!'

Lloyd Georgehated the old Poor Law system, which allowed only a little financial assistance to the needy. He fought for a more egalitarian society. Although Asquith had introuced the Old Age Pension Act, Lloyd George is regarded as the founder of the Welfare State.

Lloyd George's Budgets of 1909 and 1911broughtin payments forthe sick, the infirm and theunemployed, too.

From 1916 to 1922, Lloyd George became Prime Minister of a coalition government.

Later, he was to take the title '1st Earl of Dwyfor'. It has been claimed that Lloyd George,the first Welsh Prime Minister, was also the most influential poloitician of the twentieth century.

The 'Welsh Merlin' of politics, David Lloyd George, had many Pembrokeshire connections. Lloyd George's ancestors marched to Bosworth with Henry Tudor and in return received grants of land in Pembrokeshire.

Inthe nineteenth century, Lloyd George's father, William, was articled to Dr. Brown of Haverfordwest but found medicine a disagreeableprofession.

Instead,he opened a private school near Mathry,a small hamlet betweenFishguard and St.David's. The painter, Augustus John's father was one of his first pupils.

William George married a Miss Huntley of Haverfordwest. Unfortunately, shortly after the marriage she died and was buried in the churchyard of St Thomas a Beckett.

From 1880 onward Victorian prosperity suffered setbacks. Haverfordwest, a country town, was dependent on the surrounding agricultural areas. This resulted in low wages and high food prices. Although the Poor Law authorities provided some small payment in the way of out-relief, for many, the workhouse presented a real threat.

In 1908, William's son, David Lloyd George, introduced the Old Age Pensions Act, bringing great relief to many.

Meteorite

I met him on the 'plane:

Transatlantic, restrained,

A patron of the Arts.

His friends say he is

A smashing guy. Others

Just that he is shy.

His family arrived

Via the Urals,

One hundred years ago.

Not yet acclimatised,

His grandfather sews

Their leather shoes.

He took his MBA

At Yale. She works

For Calvin Klein:

London*Paris*New York.

It was a few months ago. I was in acafe in Fishguard, all Laura Ashleywallpaper, with a silver sheen, porcelain chandeliershanging from the ceiling and turquoise leather banquettes in the corners. Handmadechocolates were decorated with crystallised violets and squiggles of gold.Under a glass dome a ginger cake with lime and coconut frosting winked enticingly at me.

I was feelingcontentedand indulged, stirring the tea leaves in the pot,when suddenly I heard something that nearly made me burp. Two couples were sitting at a nearby table,middle aged, middle class, middle England. One of the men was speaking: 'The educational standard of most people around here is that of the average eleven year old'.

One of the women hissed, 'Hush'.

At the time I thought they were holidaymakers who probably imagined they were in a foreign country where the indigenous natives were backward and wild. What had been said seemed so preposterous I had to stop myself laughing out loud.

After this week's revelations that twenty per cent of Welsh eleven year olds are behind in key skills,

perhaps there was more than a grain of truth in the holidaymaker's observation.

Apparently, since the abolition of league tables showing the position of individual schools,standards have dropped.

I'm not sure who is responsible for this state of affairs, though politicians will, obviously, blame the previous government.

A small,educated elite rules this country but a recent report showed that many MP's,whatever they're political persuasion, are privately educated.

If we look at fee-paying schools, we'll find that they are not failing. On the contrary, their pupils continue to do exceptionally well.

Why is this? Smaller classes andbetter equipment all help but these schools attract enthusiastic teachers who know they are teaching motivated pupils. And why are the pupils motivated? Because when parents pay they want to see results. Therefore they take an interest in what is happening in class and support the teachers to ensure success.Homework is done on time and pupils take part in extra-curricular activities such as sport, music anddrama.

If there is one equation that always works it's this: Teachers plus parents plus pupils=Success.

There'syour answer. Simple. QED. Taken as proved.

Carmarthen County Council has hit the Beijing headlines and not in a good way, either. And what a PR disaster it's turned out to be.

It's all to do with a lady blogger taking photographs of a councilmeetingand preparing to twitter about it. Described by a councillor as a 'thorn' in theCouncil'sside, she refused to leave the building when asked. Patience andpoliteness might have been employedat this point, but sadly, not.The policewere called andshe was arrested. In no time, the story sped around the globe like wild fire.A lawyer, writing a column ina London newspaper, has asked forall the relevant facts.

After asuggestion thatcamerasbeinstalled to make the meetings 'open',the cost of doing so was queried.Other authoritiesrecord meetings on camera, Parliament and the Welsh Assembly is televised andthe public can judge foritself what happens in debate.It's a smallprice to pay for democracy, surely.

On to minor irritants now.Are we tiring of people rattling collecting boxes when we're out shopping?

MacMillan Breast Cancer charity were selling tickets for a raffle in town this morning.We put some money in thebox, Peter mentioning we makea Direct Debit each month to Cancer Research. '

That's good' replied the collector, not quiteunderstanding that my husband's pointwaswe'd already given, via the bank account.The collector was on to 'goodbye', when I saidI hadn't hadthe raffle ticket. The response was:

'Oh, mostpeople havesaid they don't want the ticket.'

All I can say is, ifit'sa donation they're after, whydo they call it a raffle?

Even when she was eighty, my grandmother wasable to paper the ceiling, standing on a dining table to do so. She dug potatoes from the garden and prepared vegetables for foureach day.

Her pastry was a mixture of lard and butter and she madeblackcurrant, gooseberry and rhubarb tarts, all fruit she had grown and picked herself.Rice puddings were baked, using a mix offull cream and condensed milk, with rice, syrup and raisins. Fruit cakes had a wine glass of brandy added to them. She took pride in her skills and they were not just practical.I called one evening and she was studying aFrench dictionary. A visitor was calling, from Paris, and shewas revising.

She was not unusual by any means. A lady of eighty three, a one time neighbour of mine, climbed onto her cottage roof and hammered a loose tile back into place, when awindy day had dislodged it.

I say all this becausein Cardiff Royal Infirmary, patients who needed a nurse were told to shake a tambourine. One of the visitors tried the system and he shook for sixteen minutes before someone appeared. ('If the tambourine fails, try the maracas instead', they were told). Sounds like something out of 'Carry on Nurse'. It would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. It's like giving the nursery class a percussion lesson,treating older people likeinfants, teaching Mamgu to suck eggs. It's the sheer effrontery of it.

My grandmother's generation had no labour saving gadgets, yet the chores, though sometimes arduous, gave them a purpose in life.

I have another gripe about some hospitals: themenus.My contention is this: whenpeople are convalescing, theydo not want to be presented with 'healthy' food if they don't like it. I'm talking about a hospital that served brown rice, brown bread, margarine, apples and salad. Food should be appetising to the individual if it is to be enjoyed. This applies to all ages but especially to the elderly, who often won't complain.

No, I haven't got a degree in nursing and Idon't need it to state what should be blindingly obvious.

The last invasion of Britain occurred in the parish of Llanwnda, a few mileswest of Fishguard.

Wednesday, 22 February, 1797,was a fine spring morning. Thomas Williams of Treleddyn, St. David's, amagistrate, farmer and former sailor, noticed three ships of war and a lugger sailingnear the North Bishop Rock. So close to the shore were they that he was able to see the troops on board.

Laws, the historian, says, 'English colours were flying, but the old sea-dog was not to be gulled by that stale device.'

Recognising the boats as being French, Williamsgathered some local men to accompany him to Pencaer, watching the boats all the time.

In the afternoon, the French dropped anchor between Strumble Head and Fishguard. A passing sloop, the 'Britannia', on its way to Fishguard, was ordered to heave to and the sailors on board werecommanded onto the French vessels. Theysuffered no harm and came ashore with the French sailors.

Mr Mortimer, Trehowel Farm, at first believing the invaders wereBritish, prepared an excellent supper for them but,realising his mistake, he quickly retreated.

General Tate sampled the Trehowel beer andwas well pleased with it, butthe fourteen hundred men accompanyinghim soon began looting.

Laws records that 'geese were boiled in butter and washed down with large draughts of port wine'.

This wine, the cargo of a Portuguese vessel which had come to grief, was pillaged by the locals.

Perhaps this was serendipity, because once the French sailors were inebriated, they were in no condition to resist the Castlemartin Yeomanry under the command of Lord Cawdor.

Legend has it that the women of Fishguard, led by Jemima Nicholas, a cobbler, marched to Pencaer in their stove pipe hats and red shawls and were mistaken for a troop of soldiers by the French.

Any one who had suffered at the hands of the French was compensated by the government. An old lady in the area was still enjoying a pension in 1875.

Inthe early 1960's afriendasked me to callin on her on my way back from shopping, which I did.

We sat inthe living room wherea coal fire burnt. Newly retired from her job as a music teacher, she always had something delicious in the oven and this particular day was no different. I thought she might have been baking, from the sweet smell coming from the kitchen.

We had a cup of teaand after a while there was a knock on the door. She said she was expecting 'DJ'. This was a reference to Dr DJ Williams, the founder of Plaid Cymru, wholivednearby in a pretty lime washed house in the High Street, Fishguard.He was coming to collect the rice pudding she had made for his wife Siani, who had a cold.

I got up to leave, but she insisted I wait and meet him. I had seen DJ in the town many times, alwaysimmaculate in a pale grey suit andhat,but this was the first time our paths hadcrossed.

We wereintroducedin English but I thoughttheleastI could do, when speaking to aleading Welsh language writer, was to use his native tongue and he followed my lead.

Iremember the conversation: I told him I had relatives in Rhydcymerau, where he was born. He was interestedin what I said and very easy to talk to. Inever met him again, though Fishguard is a small place, and he died in 1970.

Apart from short stories, DJWilliams wrote twoautobiographies: 'Hen dy Ffarm' ('The old Farmhouse') and 'Yn chwech ar hugain oed' (Twenty six years old').

Years later, reading 'Storm at Arberth',I discovered Sian James, the novelist,came to Fishguard as a child, to staywith Dr and Mrs Williams, her aunt and uncle.

DJ Williams was educated at Aberystwyth and Jesus College, Oxford. Much of his life was spent teaching English in the old Fishguard Grammar School.