Landerne(au

Friday evening I went to Landerne(au where I heard Cymraeg spoken on the street, albeit with an almost indistinguishable Breton accent; I called in to the 'Keltia', discussed Breton & Welsh history with an interested party, met a member of 'Breini' (a Breton group) who used to teach at Llanharan, then, unknowingly at first, I had the privilege of chatting at the bar with the Welsh speaking former Mayor of the town who told me that the other Welsh speaker on the street was probably his son who had studied at Aberystwyth and was taking a contingent around from twin town Caernarfon. With him at the bar was a Caernarfon County Councillor from Caerffili and a singer/musician from the group 'Dyniadon' of the late 60s - early 70s. An old friend invited me to stay 200 yards from the pub, but about 5.30 am I discretely retired (Je filais à lAnglaise) to my car where I spent the night next to the river Elorn. I expected to meet another old friend Maurice, who was one of the townspeople looking after the Welsh, back in the same bar for an 11 o'clock aperitif, but not surprisingly after such a late night it didn't open. I looked for them at the festival stage where I found them ready to go to an official function, I went back to my car feeling guilty for having spent money on beer that could have been more wisely spent elsewhere, but otherwise content for my evening's experience, and away I went for an afternoon's excursion with my camera, which I wouldn't have enjoyed if I'd stayed at home.

Collective amnesia

For 17 hundred years there's been a Welsh/Breton attachment; the founding saints were Welsh; Welsh/Cornish/Breton was a common language till the early middle ages, the Breton bible had Welsh help for the translation, after the war Welsh civic leaders sent letters to the French government defending Bretons and their rights, some went to stay in Wales but were thrown out by the British Parliament; then in the 60s & 70s there was a cultural renaissance in the Celtic countries, many Parisians from Breton families educated under the French system came to Brittany searching for their Celtic heritage, the musicians amongst them had picked up on Irish music, Bretons went to Ireland to learn their dances; the Celts  were Irish, as were their Scottish cousins where the bagpipes were concerned; in the French mentality that was taking over Brittany the Welsh were English so couldn't be their Celtic compatriots, it was forgotten that their 'gwerz' is Welsh, their 'national anthem is Welsh', their language & their 'saints' were Welsh (some were Irish, but they lacked the vernacular, unless having learnt it on their studies in Wales & Cornwall as well as picking it up 'in situ'), Wales is in England, as they see it, even though it isn't, so doesn't count. I thought of this just now when I intended going out for a mid-week drink for the first time in 2 years because of my restrictions. The French don't have a pub culture, it's wine & food country, but this spectacular upsurge in everything Irish, this 60s & 70s collective amnesia on the one hand, 1700 Welsh years replaced initially in a ten years cultural phenomenon has led to the transition of Breton bars to Irish pubs; the mundane 'Bar du Coin' in Quimper became the spectacularly successful 'Ceili'; equally successful in Quimper is the 'Poitin Still'. It's taken for granted that a decent 'pub' is an Irish thing, whereas any other versions of the snob/posh tendency are English, the rest are 'café/bars, or 'bistrots' which doesn't have the same meaning or significence as across the channel. In Lorient we have the Galway, in Rennes the Westport, in Brest the Tara Inn to name but a few of the best. Because of the lack of a pub mentality, to imbibe in anything like the social atmosphere I understand to be a pub ambiance I have to travel a half an hour to Morlaix, , three quarters of an hour to Kemper, one hour to Brest, or two hours to Roazhon/Rennes. I'd set my mind on going to a Breton 'pub' in Montroulez, the 'Ty Coz', I put on my jacket, picked up my keys, then realized that I didn't have any petrol, so I sat back down and began writing this. I expect to have more than the usual amount of comments.

http://patrimoinebreton.blogspot.fr/

28/06/2012

Today Ffrancis Payne visits 'Mynachdy' an impressive house, now a farm, near Pilalau, Sîr Faesyfed; yesterday I visited 'Manac'hty' at 'Trois Fontaines', Gouezec; it's now a cluster of farm buildings, one of  them a shed that was apparently a school which has slate steps that led to the dormitory on the upper floor. Today also saw me standing on the riverbank taking photos of the weir, when on turning around there was a life's first, never read about and never seen on tv; right there in front of me was a brown stoat carrying a snake in its mouth.

30/06/2012 - 1/07/2012

Little conundrum I'll sort out tomorrow; an acquaintance brought me a book today - 'Diocese de Quimper et de Leon, Nouveau Repertoire des Eglises et Chapelles'; on turning to Plouye there was a description of the parish church of Saint Joseph when I've always written 'Saint Pierre', so I looke up the internet where it confirmed 'Saint Joseph', then I looked up the history of the Plouie/Plouye 'patrimoine' where it was 'Saint Pierre'? Three books in three weeks - Th story of John Hughes in The Ukraine; Francis Payne's journey through Radnorshire (2 volumes); and now churches & chapels of Brittany. Yesterday I saw a rabbit at the side of the road, a fish jumping in a river, a 21st century monument to a 17th century mass drowning, participated in a demonstration to return Naoned/Nantes & its region to Brittany, and drank good beer in two good pubs in Kemper/Quimper - 'The Ceili' & 'The Poitin Still'.

Today's drive

Food in the fridge, petrol in the tank; this morning I went taking photos near the Aon (Aulne) south of Pleiben, noticed on a sign-post 'Ar Stêr Aön' and I've been writing 'An Stêr', easier in 'Cymraeg' with just the 'y' and the 'yr'. As I've been flitting from village to village and chapel to chapel I've been thinking of the book I'm reading, with Ffrancis Payne going around Radnorshire but I lack the intimate knowledge he possessedI have to thank Dai Hawkins once again because I can't think of another book with which i could find such empathy. especially as it touches on my maternal grandmother's early life. The chapels take me back to the early Welsh saints, some who settled, some who returned home, and their Irish colleagues, leaving behind the many 'llans & 'plous', consecrating pagan land with their springs converted to holy wells with supposedly wondrous healing powers. the megalithic 'menhir' standing stonesand Gaulish steles having christian crosses stuck on top by the local priests, and phallic stones for barren wives to rub up against in the chapel grounds. Not being as fit & strong as I was only a few years ago due to accidents & illnesses, I've scolded myself for having visited so many holy wells and not tasted a drop, so today I drank from two. Invariably each chapel has its holy well, while each manor has its private chapel; today I visited a spot where the manor being in a state of dereliction had been cleared and the chapel converted into a gite. I drove past quite a few birds of prey out looking for food, some watching from poles, others hovering, I saw a rabbit still lucky to be alive, and a fox & hedgehog dead in the middle of the road having only recently been run over.

Germanics

After centuries of being estranged from the parent country there's a certain irony that after all historic conflicts including WW1 & 2, plus the 100 years & Franco-Prussian wars, that peaceful co-existence sees London  and Paris amongst others looking to their mother/fatherland Germany for stability, both the English & French states were founded by Germans, England taking its name from the Angles, France from the Franks. On a par perhaps was the ruling German aristocracy in London from the 18th century on having to  persuade the Briish working class in the 20th that Germans were now the enemy after centuies of fighting the French; then there was Philip of Spain, King of England with Mary sending an armada to recover his kingdom, but that's another story.

Saturday Night Pangs

I've had to put going out on a saturday night out of my mind since I ran out of money in August 2010, not easy for someone who hasn't stayed in on a saturday since he was 12 years old watching match of the day in gran's while my mother took her down to the local for an hour or two. I started going around town when I was 13 with a group of us beginning the evening at one of our three cinemas before generally adventuring until the last bus took me home at 11pm. A few years later I joined the drinking hordes in the packed pubs of Merthyr, eventually moving to in Brittany where it became my job and my pleasure to go the other side of the bar for a 30 years term until the fire put the kybosh on that 28 months ago, but as anyone can tell you, putting things out of one's mind is a necessary discipline when the means aren't there, and anyway I should be beginning a new term in the near future. For some reason my mental discipline lapsed while sitting here today, I got saturday night pangs, although with the consolation that the Australia - Cymru/Wales match was televised, disconsolately the score had to remain the same as this morning.

Hughesovka

Written by me to Susan Edwards:

Listening to Roy Noble just now got me thinking of your old friend, hockey playing Michelle, who came into my pub in Brittany 20 years ago; John Hughes & Hughesovka cropped up in the conversation, she was surprised that I knew anything about him & it; today I would be surprised if anybody didn't know anything about them; she told me about your research and the resulting booklet, promising me before leaving that I would be hearing more on the subject, which I did when you sent me this autographed booklet together with an added photo of the oxen driven boiler mentioned by Roy. As you can its a bit charred having got caught up in the fire that destroyed my pub.

Wales & The World

There's something that's been on my mind for many years, a little bugbear, and that is our lack of an international transmitter. It would help Cymru/Wales to play an ever greater part on the world stage, every country sees its necessity and has one except us apparently, there's no 'Wales & the world' without one. We have the aerial on Wenvoe hill that serves domestic purposes only facing north from a position in the south, I have difficulty receiving Radio Wales when out for a drive and I am only just down the road so to speak, in the house there's no longer a problem these days as technology has advanced, we are still however an unequal participent in the world of broadcasting.