Planning Ahead

Re-ouverture -92 (que trois mois encore); besoin d'argent maintenant, pour chaque cheque de la somme de 100euros recu, vous allez recevoir 140euros de consommations (bieres, whisk(e)ys etc./Re-opening -92 (only 3 months to go);I need some capital to plan ahead; for every 100euros cheque I receive you will have drinks to the value of 140euros in return. Please send to Byn Walters, Tavarn Ty Elise ou/or 5, rue des Primeveres, 29690 Plouye, Breizh/Llydaw/Brittany/Bretagne, ou/or Paypal; ou/or Western Union.

Cymru/Wales v Australia

With Abertawe/Swansea finding success in the top half of the 'Premier League', Caerdydd/Cardiff top of their division, and Casnewyd/Newport & Wrecsam/Wrexham likewise in the 'Conference', not forgetting Gareth Bale superstar, it is more important than ever that Cymru/Wales beat Australia this week-end or we could see rugby trimming back to its core support with a possibility that our present under 11s growing up with soccer success might in the future be filling (from a rugby point of view) the wrong coffers in the wrong stadia, not to mention playing the wrong game. Although with all the money that there is in soccer with all the competition it engenders and the lack of it in Wales, the rugby authorities had better hope that 2012/13 is a one off ski lift to the slope with the quick descent it entails. It looks as though their are going for the type of risky play that got them the points against New Zealand after the game was sewn up in order to upset the Australian psyche & game plan, dangerous tactics, especially the way that kicking for touch went disastrously wrong when we could have gone for the points and had a different game. Back to this week-end, valiant effort, pushing for the line with seconds to go but eventually losing by one point, or more realistically 27 - 33

Church Concert

Because of my 'situation' I sometimes find myself temporarily without petrol money, so it was good this evening to have a concert only 500 yards down the road in the local church, and good it was; a group calling themselves 'Katell Kolled' sang traditional Breton songs in a sort of semi acapella, the only music, apart from they voices, being minimal drum & percussion support, including pottery vases, from nephew Glenn. The voices resonated to the centuries old church acoustics raising excellence almost magically to an even higher standard, whether taking it in turns to sing solo, engaging in musical conversation replying in turn 2 to one, or reciting a 'gwerz' or traditional tale. (The Welsh 'gwers' is a lesson or verse). It was all done to a background of 8 boards & easels exhibiting bright blues, reds, yellows, greens, blues & blacks in abstract form. An exceptional event adding to my life's quality experiences

Dreams & Nightmares

Excuses for Argentina, but after tonight it doesn't hold; arguably our best team for 40 years, with best strength in depth ever, were out fought and outplayed. Perhaps we were shown where our real level lies, whereas against New Zealand we will raise our game again. And don't tell me that Samoa raised their game because they were playing against Wales. It's good to follow international rugby in Wales because at the top we only have about 10 teams, mainly small countries, to beat, the best having an equivalent population; it allows us to dream, and anyone who knows Welsh history will know that our dreams give us the strength to carry on. One day .......

Leeches

There was once an inland port of Cyfarthfa with its main docks adjacent to Joseph Parry's house in Georgetown, Merthyr Tydfil. This port was at the top of the Taff valley taking the produce of the Cyfarthfa ironworks from the fork of the Tâf Fawr & the Tâf Fechan on the Tâf Fechan side together with the produce of the Penydarren works on the Nant Morlais and the Guest Works at Dowlais on the Nant Dowlais which connected with the Nant Morlais at Abermorlais on the Taff, around which the population & commercial centre grew to become the largest town in Wales during the industrial revolution of the 18th & 19th centuries, where unrest led to the unfurling of the first red flag in the world in 1831, the first steam locomotive to run on rails in the world in 1804. Nelsons cannons were made there as were the chains for the Menai Suspension Bridge and the railways for the empire. The workers were employed by iron 'kings', people such as the Crawshays who became the richest people in the United Kingdom before moving to their newly bought Caversham Park in England and taking their wealth with them, and the Berry family of whom Baron Buckland became a director of 60 companies within 3 years of his mentor D. A. Thomas (Viscount Rhondda) becoming a member of the Cabinet. Viscount Kemsley & Viscount Camrose, his brothers, became owners of 'The Times', The Telegraph' etc. Merthyr was overseen by bloodsuckers at the top whose physical heritage has been all but demolished by the Labour Party in the destruction of a unique story. The Nant Morlais has been covered up 2 centuries too late, and the magnificent Great White Tip, written in capitals, has gone for road fill; but Cardiff is the greatest bloodsucker, formed from produce brought down from the valleys exported elsewhere and ore uneconomically imported from the Basque country. Without the road, canal & rails that joined Cardiff to Merthyr there wouldn't be a comparative population there today, there probably wouldn't be a port, there wouldn't have been the first million pound cheque. The Marquess of Bute may have bequeathed Cathays Park but it certainly would not have become the so called (London granted, not historical) capital city of Cymru (Wales). If Merthyr had never existed to transfuse the little historical village of Cardiff, Swansea would still be there. Abertawe (Swansea)not like Cardiff has had to do everything itself and for that it can be proud. It's now a 'fait accompli'with 'national institutions', (soit disant' even before it became a city yet alone capital), but I cannot think of a more undeserving capital. With 10% of the votes it should be leading the way in Welsh affairs not a huge 'foreign' blockhouse barring the path, a place turning the world on its head where the inhabitants refer to their North Walian compatriots as immigrants!

Matchday pubs

Would like to be drinking with my mates now in the pubs outside the ground, standing at the bar discussing the match, the country's problems and generally setting the world to rights. Never mind, I suppose I'll have to do with facebook/blogs here on my settee/couch/sofa, but the atmosphere's not the same.

Mike Harding visits the bar Aug 1982

 

French Journalist Lost in Wales

I wrote this 3 years ago but somehow it got misplaced: A customer brought a French publication into the bar for me to read entitled 'Midi Olympique Magazine'.dated Oct 5, 2009. Apparently Hirwaun is in the heart of the Rhondda Valley at the extreme south-west of the Principality where all the mines were called The Big Pit, the mine owners were English and every mine had its rugby club. 120 miners died in an explosion at Hirwaun in 1966 and 114 died in a flood at Cymmer in 1975. Newport, Llanelli, Swansea & Cardiff are the economic lungs of the west coast. They headed towards the Brecon Forest and along the way they stopped at a pub at the side of the road in Trehafod called the 'Royal Oak' which translated means 'l'Aigle Royale'; it is part of an industry that will never know a crisis in Wales, that of hops. Inside the pub they were told a story of a university educated coach who warned the local rugby team of an imminent match against the French who were renowned for their rough play, the miners in the team laughed, they knew all about violence, for hadn't they only recently lost 120 fellow workers in the bowels of the Welsh earth! I think that this reporter was in a post-match drunken haze then lost his notebook & memory, nor did he expect a Welshman to read his article.

Happenings

Sept. 1979 > Jan. 2010: Running bar in Breton countryside.
Jan 2010: Pub burnt down, stupidly not insured for loss of earnings, under-insured for contents, used spare time to photograph Brittany
Aug 2010: Money ran out, advised to contact social worker, continued to photograph Brittany even managing to sell some photos at market but lost others plus two tents to wind & rain.
Jan 2011: Ferry paid for by Rhys so I could go to funeral in Wales.
2011: Strict regime, eating once, sometimes twice a day, no socializing at all, not even the Lorient festival, occasionally food bought with the help of friends.
2012: Light at the end of the tunnel, pub being rebuilt, spent two days at the interceltic festival, Lorient.
Sept 2012: The person usually asking for help (me) was asked to play the Good Samaritan in Portugal as unpaid adviser for the re-opening of traditional bar, with board & lodge, had to borrow money to travel 2000km, petrol re-imbursed, lorded it for a month, expenses incurred, wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Oct. 2012: Back to Brittany, reality & rain from Portugal, Sagres (+ Guinness) & sun, finding it difficult to re-adapt.
13 Oct. 2012: Enveloped myself in the best of Breton culture, forgot my problems for an evening at an excellent fest-noz in Prad in aid of Diwan Lannuon, Diwan being the Breton language schools organization.
14 Oct:  Terry the phantom barber from Ebbw Vale visits me.
 On the bright side, I come out of this long dark tunnel for the official Spring re-opening  March 1, 2013; D/J-167

A Month in the Sun

I received a call from Gareth in Cardiff to go to Portugal as an unpaid consultant but with board & lodge and petrol re-imbursed in order to help his girlfriend Dale who was starting up a bar at Tavira in the Algarve. I waited until an advance came through from Rudi then on Sunday 2 Sept. I answered the call, stopping at Gourin for the pipers' championship, then on to the Nantes periphery where I pulled up to sleep in the back of my estate which is conveniently long enough to place a sleeping bag. About 3 o'clock in the morning I was awoken by torchlight of one of  3 policemen asking me to get out and what was I doing there, after I told them I was on my way to Portugal they told me that I shouldn't be sleeping there and had I been drinking, to which I answered in the affirmative and waited for the breathalyser, the first policeman took my keys and drove off in my car, the second told me to get in the back of the police car which followed till we turned off into a service area where I got out and was advised that this was a better place to sleep, leaving with a wisecrack about the chances of my old Opel Astra making it all the way. If they had tested my breath there may not have been any trip nor driving licence especially as I only have one point left.
    I woke up driving on past Niort, Bordeaux, Saint Sebastian, Burgos, Valladolid, Salamanca, Merida, Seville, Huelva, Tavira; 48 hours later on the Tuesday evening I arrived after 2000 km (1200 m) and a few stops at service stations.
    Gareth had told me that my consultancy would be between 9.30pm & 2am (3am Sat/Sun) with nothing to do during the day and a beach on the doorstep, he forgot to mention the lock-ins and a boat to the beach. I quickly set in to a routine, mostly with Gareth, every day we'd go to the same café on the square for a large  coffee with milk, followed by a Sagres or Super Bock; a walk around the village taking photos, or a trip to the beach, would be followed by a visit to the 'Black Anchor' Irish bar. Sometimes we would say hello to the Dutch & English bars, but it was mainly to the Black Anchor that I went for my liquid refreshment before going to offer my advice evey night except Mondays for a month, and who would have thought that it would take a visit to Portugal to experience the all-Ireland Hurling & Gaelic Football finals. One day we didn't go to sleep till 6am, although that was an exception there was a lock-in almost every night.
  My daily routine, the local architecture, and the village boundaries brought to mind Patrick McGoohan's 'The Prisoner' at Porthmeirion. I enjoyed visiting the locals in their little corner bars, I made new friends, particularly Des & his wife, Kev, Dave, Jao, Paolo, Renato, Karen & Dave; the beach was magnificent, I visited another beach down the road at Cabanas, which made me think of my friend & Merthyr rugby coach Terry Cavanagh, which also had ferry access, we ate at little Portuguese restaurants, drank Portuguese wines & beers, + the digestives were voluminous & cheap. I was impressed by my temporary change in life-style, I've never really eaten in restaurants except for our Indian & Chinese back in Merthyr, so I was also happy to have lamb curry in the two Indian restaurants on the square.
     After I'd helped Dale change her address I took a day off before leaving the village after exactly a month; my last night saw me staying behind at the Irish bar at the bequest of the Irish landlord & landlady, after a discussion in good company I left to spend my last night in the back of my car, Dale having moved. The following day I went back to the café for my daily coffee and to say goodbye before driving away from Tavira forever.
     I couldn't drive back to Plouye without looking for a place that Gareth had previously told me about further east going by the name of Taffy's Bar, the problem was that I couldn't remember the address, so I drove down to Amaçao de Pera in the hope of finding it there. I wandered around the beach for a while, no ferry needed, before going to a pharmacy for a new pair of spectacles, where on my mentioning 'Taffy's Bar' he looked it up on the computer which gave its address as Praia da Rocha a further 20km to the west. Off I went straight away to get to the beach area of a highly commercial built up town, bars, hotels, restaurants everywhere, I parked my car and followed the promenade overlooking yet another beautiful never-ending beach with steps leading down everywhere; I'd convinced myself that this was the place but I was walking on and on passing in front of every kind of bar & restaurant from Japanese to Irish, hope draining until finally at the end of a long walk, there it was 'Taffy's Bar & Grill'. I took a few photos before entering, ordered a pint of Guinness, the landlord is from Treorchy, there were screens with that night's matches as in the Irish bar in Tavira, it was quiz night, I helped a Welsh couple and I had a long chat with a miner from Aberdare working in Aberpergwm, about Eddie Thomas, Howard Winstone, Malcolm Price, and Decker from Swansea Road; happy to have been there I went to my car, slept, and the following day it took me 31 hours to drive back the 1,991km. the same road as I came on, keeping a vigilant eye on the engine temperature, but although I had to pass over the Pyrenees the magnificence of which I missed twice by driving at night, I needn't have worried because it's more tunnels than actually climbing. It had been brilliant sunshine, and was to Bordeaux, the first clouds showed themselves near Vannes, then the dark clouds approaching Lorient, an hour later I was glad to get into my bed, only to be awoken by Elise wanting to know when I'd arrived, after she'd left I got out of bed and observed wet traces on the floor leading outside, so I opened the door to see the rain, I was well & truly back.