Arrogance or Ignorance

I quote from a book I'm reading: "Champion raised his gloved hand in a regal salute. But when only three of your fingers are able to wave, such a gesture can look awfully like a very rude Anglo-Saxon sign". As with many things viz gardens, weather, architecture, trees, birds, wild flowers, a sea channel, army and International agreements, on examination  there's nothing English about it at all, it was to signify to the enemy that the Welsh archers were still very capable of inflicting harm or fatality with their longbows & arrows; subconscious conceit holds no bounds. 

Fortune smiled

Yesterday morning I prepared to go to Rostrenn as is my wont of a tuesday morning, got in my car, drove around the block, came back into the house and settled in front of the computer with an idea that there is always a reason for these things, ipso facto,  the telephone lit up, it doesn't make a sound so I have to be where I was, it was Lleuwen, whom I wouldn't have heard either if I was on the road to the market (my mobile wasn't working yesterday for some unknown reason, it is today), the result being a few hours later I was a passenger on a different road heading for Lannuon in glorious weather; there we met up with Piau, had a chat, changed cars and went to the beach, not exactly, there was a beach but we went walking, saw Saint Guirecs oratoire with his statue, it used to be of wood, but they changed it to stone because his nose disappeared from the insertion of too many needles after a local legend relating to the timing of a girl's wedding, hopefully within a year; this stone statue didn't have a nose either.
     Guirec was one of the many Welsh Saints/monks who settled in Armorica/Brittany during the 5th & 6th centuries, supposedly crossing the British Sea in granite 'dugout' boats to establish Christian settlements and the first monasteries, churches & Archbishoprics, often it was also to escape the yellow plague epidemic that was in Cymru at the time, it was facilitated by the Welsh, Cornish & Bretons being the same Brythonic/British people and there being little or no French & English interference at the time as their respective Countries were still embryonic Germanic territories governed by pagan tribes of Franks, Angles, Saxons, Jutes & Frieses who had overrun the remnants of the Roman Empire and were living in the dark ages, whilst untouched western Britain & Armorica/Brittany were living in the age of Saints with a university at Llanilltud Fawr where many of these Saints, including Patrick, were educated.
              The church was nearby so was a bar where we refreshed ourselves after our little promenade before returning home in the early evening, a gorgeous day in pleasant company, or was that a pleasant day in gorgeous company, no matter, I had an unexpected marvellous day out.
             Today I'm on the last 20 pages of Nicholas Nickleby which I have been for the last four hours because my transfer of 12000 songs has got stuck at 9000, however my photos have been satisfactorily transferred from my camera to Picasa & Facebook.

Let's see

Let's see; The Britons i.e. The Welsh lost the Crown of Briton to the Angles i.e, The English, who ceded power to the Saxons i.e. more English who shared it with the Danes before losing it all to the Normans who handed it to the Angevin Plantagenets who split their house between Lancaster & York, before the Welsh took it back and re-united it, then the Scots replaced the Welsh emblem with their own before the Dutch took over and handed it to the Hanoverian Germans moving house to Saxe Coburg Gotha whose descendants are there now.

                   We don't need to have an inferiority complex because the English were conquered in 1066 so didn't bother Cymru until they reasserted their identity hundreds of years later, the little Principality came up against the might of the Norman Empire from Scotland to the Basque Country with perhaps a few Italians thrown in, England was a vassal State to Norman French speaking descendants of the Vikings without a word of English understood, they then came under the rule of the French Angevin Plantagenets living in Aquitaine, home of Richard the Lionheart, not London. The Empire claimed the Principality but the Marches allowed the native Lords of Glamorgan & Gwent to live autonomously untouched by the King's writ, so much so that when the Norman Lord in Cardiff tried to interfere with their Welsh laws & customs Ifor Bach & his men simply stormed the castle walls, kidnapped the Lord and his family and only released them on a promise to leave them alone; all were united under a Welsh King Henry VII when the Crown was put his head by Sir Rhys ap Thomas, he named his eldest son Arthur, once more to rule over the Britons, the Welsh were overjoyed after centuries of tumult, of revolt & repression, as a South Walian it reminds me of the dreamt of takeover of the coal mines by the Nation after the war, what a let down, here was the same, it was Henry VIII, son of a Welshman who passed the laws condemning Cymru to death, but the axeman couldn't finish his job even though he had enough help over the years. Welsh Strathclyde has gone into the hands of the Scots, Cumbria to the English, Cornwall is hanging on, Brittany doesn't have a Frontier owing to 'France' being more a borderless 'Great Britain' than a bordered 'England'. Fe Godwn ni eto. A bit of Balchder, it wasn't always the English, if we keep on blaming others we'll never get anywhere, in fact we ought to look to them as an example, in 1066 they got kicked in the teeth themselves, lost all their rights, their peasant tongue was anathematized but they managed to fight back and go on to lead the rest of the world no matter whether the world wanted them to or not, there was no right of refusal. Whilst the French went from strength to strength, ironically their main barrier to world domination was the English.  

Une petite question de conscience

> > > > Tu conduis ta voiture dans une nuit de tempête terrible.

> > > > La visibilité est presque nulle.

> > > > Tu passes devant un arrêt d'autobus isolé où attendent trois personnes :

> > >> - 1. Une dame âgée en sérieux danger de mort.

> > > > - 2 Un vieil ami qui t'avait déjà sauvé la vie.

> > > > - 3. La femme (ou l'homme) de tes rêves, ton partenaire idéal.

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> > > > QUESTION: Tu ne pourrais prendre qu'un seul passager à bord, qui prendrais-tu ?

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> > > > Penses-y bien avant de continuer à lire

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Ceci est un dilemme moral et éthique qui a été utilisé en entretien d'embauche.

Tu pourrais prendre la vieille dame, car elle est en danger de mort, et il serait logique d'essayer de la sauver en premier.

Ou tu pourrais prendre ton vieil ami, puisqu'il t'a sauvé la vie, ce serait une bonne occasion de lui rendre un service à la hauteur.

Cependant, tu ne rencontreras peut-être plus jamais le partenaire idéal...

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> > > > Penses-y (encore) bien avant de continuer à lire

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> > > > La personne interviewée qui a été engagée (parmi 200 candidats) n'a pas hésité à donner sa réponse.

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> > > > QU'EST-CE QU'ELLE A DIT ?

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> > >> Tout simplement :

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Je donnerais les clés de la voiture à mon vieil ami, et je le laisserais prendre la vieille dame pour l'emmener à l'hôpital.

Moi, je resterais là pour attendre l'autobus avec la femme de ma vie !!!

CONCLUSION : IL FAUT SAVOIR SURPASSER LES OBSTACLES APPARENTS QUE NOUS DONNENT NOS PROBLÈMES, ET APPRENDRE À PENSER CRÉATIVEMENT (bande de nuls) !

Monday's Diary

Last tuesday in Rostrenn I showed a pub landlady photos taken inside her bar during the dance festival last summer, I promised I would give her copies tomorrow. I had to drive 10 miles and back to get blue, in the shop there was a new batch of guide books and being curious I looked up the bar and even though it burnt down 14 months ago it was still there, at least in one; as I was nearing home I decided to drive on a few kilometres to Kerelcun a hamlet I visited last saturday. On arriving I parked my car, got out with my camera and a book and took off my top clothes to begin a walk about in shorts & mocassins. I took a a couple of photos of old wells, then on seeing the only person out, an old lady slowly walking down the road I stopped her to ask a few questions about the place, the Bretons call the hamlets villages, it was a good stop because it turned out she'd been running the village bar for more than 50 years. I mentioned the preponderance of attractive signs, all of them written in Breton, yes she said we are Bretons here, I told her that in my village the many signs recently put up were in French, to which she responded, why, aren't they Bretons in Plouie? I explained that the Mayor is a first language Breton speaker but that he spent all his working life in Paris and now that he's spending his retirement back home he's brought his Parisian ideas with him. I walked on, found a picnic table near a well & lavoir, opened my book and read a bit under the sun; St. John is trying unsuccessfully to persuade Jane to marry him so that they can go together as missionaries in India. After folding my book I carried on with my walkabout every now and again taking photos before going back to my car. I'd noticed a sign indicating the hamlet of Ruguellou less than a kilometre up the road so I drove there, had my 2nd walk about, said a few bonjours, took photos but didn't stop for a chat or a read, all the signs were again attractively written in Breton with a little coat of arms of Ar Fouilhez, the village with its mairie to where these are satellite hamlets; the French give it a double L pronounced the Parisian way, but the H signifies it may have had a double L pronounced the Welsh way. I enjoyed my little walks, but on my way back I did something stupid out of curiosity, I saw a sign to another hamlet over a small country lane which I took even though it was obvious after a while that it was only good for tractors and anyway ended up in a field, part of the way I nearly got stuck, managed to carry on, reversed, got stuck, with my heart pounding I managed to extricate the car, went forward to the field, used the expanse to turn around, back on the lane the car bottom was hitting the high tractor only used middle, got back to the churned up mud from earlier, metaphorically said my prayers, succeeded in getting through, heart still pounding, said thank you to I know not whom nor what, greatly relieved I calmed down and carried on home. Tomorrow morning I'm off to Rostrenn to try selling my tee shirts a collection built up over the years, side by side with my photos.

Warning, danger ahead

Blow after blow; 964, 72 euros electricity bill with 30 days to pay before services are suspended, advised to see the social services about aid, problem being that this step has already been taken and aid rejected.

Today's Diary.

Got up just before 6.30am feeling slightly despondent, drove up to Montroulez with the petrol gauge alight, meaning that any money for photos sold would be soon soaked up. I set up my stall then found a parking space a good way up a hill to get a bit of exercise on my way back which is the best medicine for my diabetes. A few friends passed by, always had good custom from Montroulez having a particular rapport with Ty Coz, some of whom bought some photos, earning me 40 euros, meaning I could buy petrol with some over for milk, cheese & yogurt. Joe, a musician bought a photo and invited me to a music festival at a farm in Brasparts tonight with food and drinks offered but I felt I had to decline, My friend Pascal came passed a second time, having previously bought photos, to invite me to share a barbecued sausage & chips for lunch with him and his wife & daughter. After the meal I drove to the petrol station & shop with fingers crossed, ok, got onto the homeward road intending to drive straight back but when I approached  a roundabout with a sign pointing to Saint Thegonnec I couldn't resist turning off to take photos of their famous church architecture and calvaire. On my detoured return I passed by a village I'd never seen before, took more photos, drove on in glorious weather which was giving me ideas; I'd already got out a book in the basilica or great church of Folgoad/Folgoet searching for some kind of personal spirituality but I found it claustrophobic, this experience came back to mind in Saint Thegonnec so I thought of doing the same thing, only this time not inside the church but in the unclaustrophobic environment of the roof of Breizh/Brittany, the top of the Menez Arrée, so after I finished capturing the panorama I settled down in the calm sunny, slightly breezy atmosphere to participate in the not quite so calm atmosphere of the non-wedding between Jane Eyre & Edward Rochester, I found nature superior for my needs to all the stained glass windows and multifarious church ornamentations. As the sun was beginning to set I closed the book and moved on, this time I remembered another sign and looked out for it, I turned and discovered a menhir then continued to a surprisingly lovely and aesthetically interesting hamlet, every street and lane was beautifully signposted in Breton, it depends on the administering village and the personality of its mayor, in this case La Feuillée (in Plouie/Plouye we've lost out), the hamlet being Kerelcun, beautiful. I took a walk around, there was a huge garden or small park with a large pond and wheeled mill, a large granite rock and renovated housing, there were wells, a lavoir, calvaires, and another garden with a stream leading to three ponds, one of which had a gaggle of geese, whilst another had male & female mallards accompanying my first ever aquatic mammal, which from a distance I took to be a young beaver, swimming around, laying on its back and resting near the bank, unfortunately the battery had run out on my camera, I even spotted an unexpected HB registration which was formerly the Merthyr lettering. I went back to my car and following an old road, got lost, for 10 minutes anyway, before doing a full circle and eventually arriving home far less despondently than setting out.

Rostrenen market

I may have picked the wrong day, but when I see all my 100's of unused tee-shirts in my (chest of) drawers, I think it may be worth disposing of them, so I'll be taking them with me to Rostrenen this morning to sell alongside my photos.

Today's diary

I wish someone would explain this poking business to me. Elise and the family cleaned out the pub today so that the builders can get straight at it as soon as we have the permit. I had my spot at the market in Montroulez/Morlaix where last week I was commissioned to take photos of a church & neighbouring house by a lady who's house it is that never appears on the post-cards, so it was my job to include it with the church for the photos to be sent to her family in the States. This evening was a new experience for me, I passed a pleasant hour or two amongst friends at an 'aperitif-concert à domicile' in the lounge of the home of the poet Christian Carpentier and his girlfriend/partner Veronique Paugam where we were invited to listen to Christian LeMaitre & Erwan Moal playing Breton & Irish airs together on fiddle/violin & guitar respectively; on my leaving the host gave me a book of poetry he'd written with one of his oeuvres entitled 'Ty Elise'.

Glorious & Hellish

Paul Morel has just lost his mother, said goodbye to Clara and rejected Miriam; how do I follow that? 'Sons & Lovers' - D.H. Lawrence. For some reason or reasons I identified easily with it. Now I would probably have not read that if the pub hadn't burnt down; I have one side of me that's reaching to a higher & higher plane, and another that's plumbing the depths. I have to go to the market in Rostrenen tomorrow but still haven't got the money for my car insurance.

Merthyr Town AFC

I'm a fan of Merthyr Town AFC and have been since I could cross the main road by myself, but don't like the way they prefer to play in minor English leagues keeping alive their pipe dream of climbing to the top of the pyramid, when their never went beyond the old 3rd division south, rather than playing every match against other Welsh sides with the chance of going into Europe. They once did well against Italian opposition but qualified through a Welsh competition in which they can no longer compete. In fact they now have nothing to look forward to at the end of the season but dream on as they slip further & further into anonymity. This season has just seen them halting the slide, being promoted from an English nowhere to another English nowhere, so at least avoiding the ignominy of a once proud Welsh club descending to the depths of park football.

Cymru/Wales & the U.K.

What exactly is our Country's status? If the law in Wales Act of 1535 - 1542 has been abrogated so that we are no longer 'England & Wales' but 'England' & 'Wales', aren't we in an anomalous situation regarding the United Kingdom. England & Scotland became parters after signing an Act of Union, Cymru/Wales did not join as a Country in its own right but as a region subsumed to England, as Cymru/Wales was never a partner to Scotland and no longer a part of England, then logically aren't we now acting outside the U.K. and the Queen of England & Scotland is no longer the Welsh Sovereign and therefore the Country no longer has any need to send MPs to Parliament unless or untill a relevant covering Act is signed.