Welcome to my new abode. Once I’ve put the curtains up and found my percolator, it will be as comfortable as my old address.
For those of you who view my “Weekend Wales-Watch” column in a place other than at www.pulsewales.co.uk/wordpress/ , my ex-address has just been taken over by The Laughing Dragons Theatre Group, an amdram gang. Their first production last month was a roaring success. A quick plug for them then, they are based firmly in Mid-Wales and they’re on the look-out for people who want to learn all the skills of theatrical performance.
Anyway, vacating my old place to that great bunch is a pleasure. Continue in your success, folks.
A Man Of Principle
Michael Foot’s image –created by the Right-Wing press in the main – was that of an unmade bed. His detractors never mentioned his great prowess as an orator. They ignored his dedication to his Socialist principles.
Now he is being said to have “saved The Labour Party”, by Neil Kinnock for one. Alas, that salvation was short-lived when The New Labour Party took on the mantle of Socialism to cover its move to the Right.
Let us not forget Michael Foot, nor any of those people who stood up for the principles which created The Labour Party. If we do forget, we shall never be able to recreate that Party.
It Would Be So Easy . . .
. . . to head this piece “A Load Of Rubbish”, but I have resisted the temptation.
Denbighshire Council has spent £8,500 of taxpayers’ money on electronic tagging of dustbins. This is to monitor how much rubbish local people throw away.
The Council have no plans – presently – to charge householders varying amounts of cash based on the amount of rubbish they create.
Perhaps the locals should insist on fitting tags on Councillors and the Council’s office-wallahs. Then, based on how much use those people are, a similar throw-away scheme could be introduced.
Some readers may recall the Welfare State being set up in the 1940s. Great and good men like Aneurin Bevan were involved in its creation. They saw that, for too long, ordinary folk – those who produced the wealth of Great Britain – had been subjected to poverty and even starvation should they lose their jobs.
That loss of work could be for reasons of “getting the sack” for a trivial offence like frowning at a boss, for bosses simply laying off workers to save expense, and for illnesses which afflicted so many working-class people.
So the Welfare State became a safety-net which would help those who fell on hard times. The safety-net aspect has remained a popular belief even up to current times.
My friend John has worked hard and long for many years. He has been self-employed, and he has provided for his wife and children. Now, he finds himself unable to work due to illness. And, of course, having paid his National Insurance stamp regularly, he expected help from the Welfare State.
Five medical specialists have provided written evidence that John cannot work. So the office-wallahs in his local Social Services office say they do not believe that he cannot work.
That’s because they seem to have lost the written evidence which John provided.
It will take John – an ordinary bloke – a lot of energy and a lot of perseverance to make any headway on his claim. And this at a time when he really does need that safety-net.
I shall sight another such case next week.
Meantime, please remember that, if you hand over any document to anyone in the Social Services, you need to get a receipt. Office-wallahs seem to take pride in losing things – though not, of course, their jobs . . .
Beneath The Mantle
Anyone with half a brain knows that The New Labour Party is a sham. The Right-Wing infiltrators who took over our Labour Party only wear the mantle of Socialism.
Now, former-rebellious youngster, Peter Hain, is trying to snuggle up really close to Plaid Cymru in order that he and his New Labour cronies can hang onto power. Because power brings wealth.
I trust that there will be many members of Plaid Cymru who see through this ploy. For Plaid to enter into an alliance with a political party which is controlled from London, England, would seem to be a negation of its desire for Welsh independence.
Oh – sorry: I forgot that “independence” is rapidly becoming a redundant word in Plaidspeak. Oh – sorry: I forgot that Plaid entered into alliance with New Labour after the last Senedd election.
Funny game, politics.
Two Decades On
I well remember seeing on telly the flooding along the North Wales coast in February, 1990. It was a devastating experience for those people whose homes were ruined by the rising waters.
KimmelBay, Towyn and Pensarn bore the brunt of the tragedy, though the event is often referred to as “The Towyn Floods”.
Now, twenty years on, doubt is being cast on the work which has been done to prevent another disaster occurring in the same area. One wonders how many other parts of our coastline have adequate sea-defences. One wonders if the Westminster government has taken the matter seriously – after all, it’s only Wales. . .
Plaid Cymru – which used to be known abroad as “The Welsh Nationalist Party” – is holding its Spring Conference.
As this goes online, I look outside and see lots of snow. I look at my calendar and it informs me that it’s February.
Does this mean that, when Wales gets independence, Plaid will become our Government and will – as if by magic – control the very seasons by which our farming community is guided? Or does it mean that Plaid Cymru is unaware of the steady passage of time?
And my apologies to any member of that illustrious party who is offended by my use of the word “independence” – I realise that it is never used by the current party faithfuls these days . . .
We Won!
I trust you will have noticed that I, a total non-sporting person, forecast a win for Wales against Scotland last week. Do I have the gift of prophecy, or was that great ending to the match a mere coincidence?
Well done, lads – and keep on keeping on.
The Class War Still Rages!
Those of us who have always dreaded the adoption of the English Class System by Wales have been disappointed this week.
Once upon a time, rail passengers were put into three categories: First Class, Second Class and Third Class. This was in the days of steam, and the classifications changed after nationalisation. We ended up with First and Second Classes.
Our much respected and loved Members of Parliament are allowed – currently – to travel First Class as befits their exalted status. How could we possibly expect them to mingle with the hoi-polloi?
The excuse . . . er . . . reason for them clinging to this privilege is that they need the privacy of First Class travel to work on important papers. Can’t expect them to do so when their travelling companions are commoners, can we?
Our Assembly Members, too, are allowed to travel First Class. Just imagine how difficult it would be for an AM to travel from, say, Machynlleth to Cardiff and have to mingle with farmers and the like in a Second Class compartment.
Er . . . but hang on . . . you can’t make that journey by rail any more. There is no direct railway line from North to South Wales. The Tories closed that route in the 1960s. You have to go via Mother England now.
Of course, Wales could take some of the profits from our coal-mining industry and restore our North-South rail-link. Oh . . . hang on again . . . The Tories closed our coal-mines in the 1980s.
Wonder what May’s General Election will bring - or take away . . . ?
Wales is a wealthy country – official! It must be true, too, because it was a claim made by the Westminster government’s Welsh Secretary. And he couldn’t be mistaken, could he? So rejoice in all those riches.
Peter Hain even represents a Welsh constituency, so he really has a grip on what’s happening in our land.
Nearly every weekend, I report job losses in Wales. Clearly Mr. Hain doesn’t read my “Weekend Wales-Watch”. He insists on reminding us that there are still lots of jobs here in what seems to be his domain.
Not to worry – my instincts tell me that Peter Hain should be as worried about losing his job in a couple of months as so many of our people have been for a very long time now.
Addicted To Vanity?
A 27-year old bloke from Llanharry has at last admitted to being addicted to building up a tan on these wretched sunbeds.
The impending laws governing sunbed-use must be observed totally. Not only are they part of the selfish vanity which we have been taught to accept, but they cause – yes, cause – major health problems, not least of which is skin-cancer.
Nevertheless, the things are not yet completely outlawed. Or is there no political party which really cares about we who may, or may not, choose to vote it into power?
Happy Birthday
One-hundred-and-fifty years ago, the Mid-Wales newspaper The Cambrian News burst into life. Since then, statisticians have lost count of the wonderful and often-amusing errors made by its proof-readers.
A friend of mine who used to write for the paper remembers well a couple of glaring “corrections” made to his impeccably typed articles. One concerned a couple of reverend gentlemen who visited Bedd Taliesin, a Bronze Age grave to the North of Aberystwyth. They enjoyed their visit and had a little drink whilst viewing the site. One of ‘em, drunk as a lord, toppled over and fell into the grave. He was described by the proof-reader as “a person no less”. Well, there are still a lot of persons about.
And, once, he described the paper as “this august journal” which was altered into “this August journal”. Well, long may the old paper stumble along, mistakes and all – and may it be published throughout the year, not just for one month in Summer.
Sidestepping The Issue
Lembit Opik is an MP who seems to attract a lot of publicity one way or another. Montgomery’s favourite has managed to avoid having had to pay back nine-hundred quid which he had claimed for mobile phone calls.
There are still twenty-six Welsh MPs who have to pay back a sum total of over sixty-grand. So that’s alright, then.
We must keep an eye on Lembit and his colleagues, mustn’t we?
Real Conservation Measures
Some years ago, the Red Kite was an endangered species. I well remember that Royal Marines were employed to guard nest against egg-thieves who stole them for Eastern potentates. Oddly enough, the thieves seemed to find other work when the Marines moved in!
There was a most interesting occupation mentioned on Radio Wales this week. The young lady being interviewed was a “Money Psychologist”.
The imported idea of giving silly job titles came to Britain over forty years ago. If you call someone a “Rest-room Operative”, it sounds better than being a Lavatory Cleaner. Thus, the worker is made to feel as if s/he has status – though the pay will remain the same.
Anyway, the Money Psychologist made some interesting observations. The sum total of her well-studied research seemed to be that “People like to have money”.
Well, who’d have thought it?
Where Are We?
A serial set “in the shadow of the Long Mynd” has just started on BBC Radio 7. The accents of the actors pretending to be Welsh are from almost all over Wales, from The Valleys to Anglesey.
I’m prepared to accept that the area could be full of immigrants from those places. But there’s not a local Marches accent among them.
I suppose a quick “look you” or an “indeed to goodness” is about all the BBC thinks it needs to create the sound of a whole nation. And isn’t the Long Mynd in Shropshire?
Last Of The Line
There’s an aging police-box down in Newport. It’s the kind which features in Doctor Who’s adventures – a big blue one which the coppers long ago would use when they had no personal radios.
Now, funds are being raised to restore the old box to its original glory. Just goes to show the effect that a telly-series made in Wales has on popular imagination.
Makes one feel quite patriotic!
At What Cost?
Holyhead is going to receive one-hundred-and-fifty shiny new jobs!
Tesco is the philanthropic company which is to create those jobs. The firm is going to build a massive new shopping area there, car-park and all.
What the statistics don’t reveal is how many locally-owned small shops will have to close in the town when Tesco opens. Nor do they show whether there’ll be more local jobs lost that gained.
Oh – and ‘tis said that the new project was approved at “an extraordinary meeting of the local Council”. Yeah – I’ll bet it was extraordinary . . .
The weather – always a good topic to attract readers’ attention – has been pretty difficult to handle in recent days. Thank goodness, say I, that the nice Mr. Brown in Westminster has been so reassuring about supplies of grit. That’ll be of great comfort to people who live down side-lanes – only major routes have been kept (more-or-less) clear across Wales.
Our difficulties shrank to insignificance, though, when it was reported that Melbourne, Australia, has just had its hottest night since 1902. Just think what those poor little Aussies, some of them of Welsh ancestry, had to go through: lots of ‘em had to spend the night sleeping on the beach!
A Bit Of Common Sense
Far be it from me to criticise young people. As I travel about Wales, I meet some very fine youngsters: eager, caring and hopeful. Yes, there is a minority who have no discipline – ‘twas ever thus.
But it seems to be an in-thing among the dafter youngsters to believe that a healthy-looking tan, however unhealthily it is gained, is a good thing.
Congratulations, then, to a Welsh MP, Julie Morgan (Cardiff North) whose Private Member’s Bill seeks to ban under-18s from using sun-beds.
Cancer is caused by their use.
Oh – and Nicola Roberts of ‘Girls Aloud’ is backing the ban, too.
May I suggest that, as an alternative to sun-beds – not only young people but also the woolly-minded in general get out of the house more and earn a healthy complexion in the normal way?
I’m All Shook Up
Well, a-bless-a my soul, etcetera. I’ve only just heard the news! It seems that there will be an Elvis Impersonators Festival this year right here in Wales.
As I – with my finger on so many pulses – have only just got a letter from the mailman about it, I still don’t know where it will be held nor when.
A good venue could be on the slopes of Plynlimmon Fawr, Ceredigion. On the Plynlimmon Pass (A44 road) as you head West from Llangurig, you will see on your right a special memorial to The King. It says simply “Elvis”, and has stood the test of time – and punk-era vandalism – since 1958 or thereabouts.
The word has been repainted a few times, but it still tells of the mighty influence Presley had – and still has – on both pop-music and on young people when he first erupted onto the scene.
As soon as I have details of the Festival, I will pass them on in this column.
Helping Our Last Remaining Industry
You will have heard that Bosch intends to shut shop in Cardiff next year. The firm is relocating in Hungary, where labour is cheap. Nine hundred Welsh jobs will disappear.
The only industry which seems likely to survive in Wales is farming. And that industry is in a woeful state. We must try to support our hard-working farmers and their families by buying local produce locally, of course.
Meantime, please spare a thought for our Minister for Rural Affairs, Elin Jones. The proposed badger-cull is going ahead. Ms. Jones had the thankless task of being a party to sanctioning the killing of these creatures. Protest groups – mainly comprising English middle-class do-gooders plus a whole gang of Estuary-English speaking supporters – are furious at the news.
However, the balance of evidence points to badgers spreading bovine TB, and that disease can ruin Welsh milk-production among other things.
I would not like to be in Elin’s shoes – or wellies – at this time.
Perhaps this should be headed “True Grit”, but I avoided that! For, in fact, there’s pretty little grit – true or otherwise – in the whole of Wales.
That is how well-prepared our Councils were for what was to come. Well, Councillors all, what was to come is called “Winter”. That’s the time when it gets colder and we often have what is called “snow and ice”.
Y’know, I reckon that, before any person stands for election in a County Council election, that person should have to answer a questionnaire which includes the problem “Name the seasons of the Welsh year” and its rider “Describe the prevalent weather conditions which traditionally occur in those seasons”.
Mind you, we should be told before we go and excitedly vote for any of them if they enjoy Council banquets . . .
The Cold Truth
Gosh – my headings are so predictable, aren’t they?!
Well, anyway, on my travels this week, I visited a fair-sized Welsh holiday town. I went into three shops in that beside-the-seaside place. Two of them felt a bit chilly.
Chatting with shop-assistants in those two shops, I was told that there was no heating on in those establishments. The temperature in each one was certainly lower than the legal requirement. In each case, I asked if the employees had spoken with their boss about the situation.
They had not.
I asked them what their Union rep. had said about the situation.
They were not members of any Trades Union.
Those polite and smiling shop-assistants both gave the same retort to my questions: “Can’t complain – at least I’ve got a job.”
You will see now what great joy this long-lasting financial Slump is bringing to the boss-classes . . .
Fuel For Thought
At Tai Elen Glyn – sheltered accommodation for older people in Llandwrog, Caernarfon – the central-heating system went off recently. The system had run out of oil.
The OAPs had to wrap themselves up very well indeed and use hot-water bottles. These people belong to a group which is often labelled “vulnerable”.
The charity-owned accommodation is managed by Tai Eryri, whose office is just up the road from the suffering pensioners. Tai Eryri provided convector-heaters in the emergency. Of course, the heaters were very well packed. It took the residents a whole morning to get the things out of their packing.
Along with the potential Council members mentioned above, should we – the ordinary people of Wales – not insist that anyone involved in running such a project should have enough brains to check the oil supply before this cold weather arrived?
Let us not be complacent. Let us poke our noses where they are not wanted – even into the running of charities.
Our Boys In Blue
Well done the Lib-Dems in using the Freedom of Information Act to let us know that North Wales police ran up a £750K bill for hire-cars.
That money belongs to the people who pay their Council Tax. Why was the information not made public by the police themselves? It’s not as if it was confidential info concerning crooks, is it?
Anyway, if you’re up in the Gogledd and you see a posh private car chasing you, beware – it could be full of our boys in blue!
A Great Entertainer
I’ve always enjoyed the antics of Welsh comic Stan Stennett. His brand of daft humour appeals to most people.
Now a septuagenarian, Stan is taking part in his sixty-second pantomime. He’s playing the fool – what else? – as Billy in ‘Snow White’ in Penarth.
If you’ve never seen Stan work and can get to the show, I guarantee you will not be disappointed. Keep on keeping on, Stan bach!
Another Reminder
Regular readers (sound like a proper journalist, don’t I?) will have read that this column is moving soon. I shall let everyone know the new Interweb address in good time, so keep looking out for that.
Even when that happens, I shall continue to publish my deathless prose as a Google blog. Give it a try and Bookmark the link:
As I drove, I had to listen to BBC Radio Four, from London, on Long Wave. With a bad signal just the other side of Offa’s Dyke, even Radio Wales on AM failed me. And I heard a strange item.
There are, according to the report, people in Mother England who are quite happy to pay £2.50 for a loaf of bread.
I’ll repeat that: two-pounds-fifty for a loaf of bread!
That’s because it’s “special bread” (by which the English voices meant it was a status symbol).
The same voices tried to justify the expense by telling us that, though cheap bread bought by poorer families will fill their children’s bellies, it is not as nutritious – nor as tasty – as the two-and-a-half-quid stuff which they buy. Ah – so that’s alright, then.
We in Wales buy lots of “cheap bread”. Our economy does not allow us the choice. I can just imagine those same, middle-class English voices asking the Festive Season question: “I wonder how the poor people spend Christmas . . . ?”
Early Sales
Well, most of the poor people went to the Sales over the Christmas break. Retailers are reporting good results – Cardiff has, apparently, had a bumper time.
The main reason why so many people have gone shopping is simple: VAT goes back to 17½% as from January.
Of course, there is another reason which has been taught to us: buy things you do not really need while you can get them cheap.
One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to use charity- and pound-shops as much as I can (no change in my lifestyle there, then!), and to encourage other people to do the same. Yes, I know that you can’t get everything you need in such establishments, but you can pop in and find out if they can supply your needs.
Message From On High
Rarely do I find a cleric who comes up with words which appeal to me. Organised religion, it seems, has lost its way quite a bit (bishops living in palaces when the Son of Man had no place to lay his head is an example).
So how good it was that Barry Morgan, Archbishop of Wales, gave such an interesting sermon on Christmas Day.
The Archbishop does not like cosy and sentimental versions of the Nativity, nor cuddly donkeys. Such things, he told us, hide the true nature of Jesus.
That there is no Biblical reference to Mary having to change her infant son’s nappies does not mean that she didn’t do so. And – despite the carol which encourages us to believe the baby didn’t cry – I’ll bet poor old Joseph had a few sleepless nights.
I say that not to mock Christianity – goodness knows, Christians themselves do a good job of that – but to point out that we seem to have prettified the whole Nativity story into something akin to a pretty fairy-tale.
Thanks, Dr. Morgan, for bringing such things to our attention. Will you continue to live in a posh palace, though?
Don’t Panic!
The recent Wintry weather had effects all over our country. This post-Christmas snow and ice seems to have caused more chaos than the one earlier this month.
I heard that, in our bigger conurbations, there was a sudden shopping surge. The one I mention here was not caused by the imminent – and iniquitous – re-introduction of the higher rate of VAT. It was mainly men who created this rubbing of hands by shopkeepers.
It seems that, with icy roads which slowed traffic on their way to work, they expected that the same – or worse – could happen on their way home. So they spent their cash on things to put in their cars in case they were stranded in inclement weather conditions.
In fact, most of the money was spent on chocolate, scarves and gloves, it seems.
Now then, good people of Wales, is it not about time that we stopped doing spur-of-the-moment spending to prepare ourselves for emergencies? In my car, I carry a pack to help me deal with unforeseen events all the year round. It doesn’t take up much space, and it contains food (not all chocolate!) to last me a couple of days, a very small gas-stove to make a brew, and a spare pair of socks and the like.
Let us set the example to the rest of the people living in these Isles and show ‘em that we in Wales have made preparations – in our homes as well as our cars – for things we are not expecting. Should you need more info on how and why to do this, contact the.green.man@hotmail.co.uk .
A bit of our dear old Welsh saint, Winefride, has been kept up in Holywell for many moons. Now, it’s going to be displayed in Conway for all to see.
Winefride was, according to Christian-inspired legend, a virgin (weren’t they all back in the mists of time?). She spurned the advanced of a bloke attempting seduction, for which he cut off her head. Along comes her uncle, Beuno, and sticks it back on again. “Thanks, Uncle Beuno”, are the words I believe Winefride said after the restoration.
In fact, the good lady is an ancient water-goddess who the Roman missionaries “converted” to Christianity for their own propaganda purposes. Therefore, many of us suspect that the bit of finger-bone alleged to be Winefride’s couldn’t be hers – pagan goddesses seem to have been sprites and spirits rather than being flesh and bone.
Mind you, at one time the Vatican claimed to have a bit of Jesus’ body. I will give you a clue to what it was. Your will know that he was brought up as a good Jewish boy. And that the Jewish tradition practices circumcision . . .
Funny thing, religion.
More Watery Tales
Now then, if those Christian missionaries way back then had left well alone, Winefride may have been able to help lots of people here in Wales over the Festive Season.
Surprise, surprise – Winter brought cold weather. There was a thing called “frost”. And completely unique things happened: this frost thing caused . . . burst pipes!
Yes, it surprised me as much as it surprised the water-companies. Up in Flintshire, for instance, thousands of people were without domestic water-supplies over Christmas. People in Holywell (see above!) were among them.
All over Wales, pipes burst and hundreds more people were unable to turn on the tap and make a cuppa.
Perhaps we should remember that – despite the Climate Crisis and Global Warming – Winters in Wales can still be harsh. As individuals, we must learn to prepare our homes for such emergencies – and emergencies of all kinds.
Nevertheless
Water plays a big part in our lives. And burst mains did not – could not – prevent water-worshippers (Friends of Winefride?) doing something which brings to mind the phrase “They ain’t all locked up yet”.
Did I really hear a report that hundreds of terminally daft people went for the now-traditional Christmas Day swim down in Porthcawl? Some of ‘em, it is alleged, wore fancy-dress. Whether this was to give them protection against the cruel sea or to disguise who they were so that neighbours wouldn’t avoid them when they got home the report did not say.
Fair play, though – it was done to raise lots of money for charities. And each swimmer was presented with a commemorative mug – as if they didn’t seem enough like mugs!
Nobody froze, nobody drowned, and most of ‘em wore smiles. If that’s what being daft is all about, then let’s have more of it right across Wales.
Well, the Festive Season is in full force. Mind you, the earliest reported “Christmas goods” on sale in Wales was at the end of August!
Our shopkeepers are hoping for a big boost in retail profits over the next couple of weeks, then come the January sales.
I trust you, like myself, will support your locally-owned retail outlets and let the big boys – owned by goodness-knows-who – sort things out for their international selves.
The pressure’s on us – the ordinary people of Wales – to spend as much cash as possible. And this is at this time when we’re also being reminded of the birth of Jesus in a lowly stable and of his living a life which was not that of a moneyed person. Why does that Biblical phrase keep coming into my head: “The love of money is the root of all evil”?
To cope with all our extra spending, we have been carefully encouraged to go into debt. “The money has to come from somewhere” the money-lenders impress upon us. And we mugs fall for it. Buy now, pay later and all that.
So, even in these financially tough times, we stay well away from Christmasses and Solstice celebrations and whatever else we enjoy which do not involve materialism. What happened to simple goodwill and love and happy chats around the fireside? Has this Slump taught us nothing?
Repercussions
It seems that my report last week about the immigrant lady querying the use of a Welsh name in a “Guess The Name Of The Teddy Bear” competition set a few hares running.
A friend of mine passed the story on to a Plaid Cymru Assembly Member. She replied that she didn’t know what to say, but thanked me for highlighting it.
A transatlantic friend of mine reminded me of the struggle of French speakers in Quebec. They argued that, as the majority of people in that Province were first-language French, then that language should be made the first language of Quebec. It was a long and hard-fought battle. But the French-speakers won.
I am not suggesting that Cymraeg is the majority-language here in Wales. But should we not be doing a lot more to let the world – and those who wish to move here (or are here already) – that it is a living, vibrant language? We cannot let them wallow in their ignorance!
How Clever Are We?
A good point was made to me recently by a friend who lives in Cardiff. He is a Welsh patriot, and feels that our Assembly – if it is to become anything – must be granted more powers.
“The Westminster bunch won’t even let us make our own laws without vetting them first,” he said. “Seems to me that MPs think we Welsh are too stupid to run our own affairs.”
Then a grin spread across his face.
“But, of course,” he smiled, “Wales has, at least, it’s own embryo government. Westminster rates our intelligence higher than that of the English – they haven’t even got their own Assembly yet!”