When the PCS were on strike last week I was immensely proud of the Labour and Plaid Cymru AM's, all of whom refused to cross the picket lines at the Senedd. A number joined those pickets outside the building and politicians like Plaid's Leanne Wood were vociferous in their support for the striking civil servants. Coverage from the London-based media was typically negligible : it probably needs another bull on the rampage in Tenby for Wyre Davies to get air time there!

   For anyone who still doubts any claims of a pale pink ditch (though not 'clear red water') this was the answer. Can you imagine a similar scenario at Westminster? Can you envisage a day when the Government refuses to function because of their outright support for many of the poorest workers in our society whose jobs and redundancy rights are seriously threatened? Brown and his hatchetmen are far more likely to appease the bankers.

   While the Senedd was closed for business, Tory and Lib Dem AM's acted like 'scabs', crossing the picket lines and decrying the actions of the Coalition. For all the posturing from Cable and Clegg (who sound like a failed 70's folk-rock duo) at their Conference, the present situation brought out the true nature of their position. You'd expect Tories to behave in such a way, but Lib Dem's exposed the fact they are a middle-class party, which has no place for working-class solidarity and extra-parliamentary action.

   These vicious cuts - designed to solve a public debt crisis brought on by banks de-regulated under Thatcher and Blair - will be fought and , hopefully defeated by precisely the very means the Lib Dem's so readily reject. As with past struggles like the anti-poll tax movement, they have no solution and no involvement. Even in the mass movement against the war in Iraq, they shifted their position without any heed to idealism : from outright opposition to 'support for the boys'.

   Everyone I've talked to in the public services refers to the distinct possibility of impending cuts ( and this before an election). Teachers talk about the possibility of compulsory redundancies and certainly, many who leave the profession are not being replaced. The Schools' Library Service - which performs such a great job connecting young people to writers, books and reading - is also under threat of the axe.

   The stark reality of the recession was again brought home to me last weekend, when I visited Caergybi (Holyhead) at the northern tip of Cymru.
When I say that this town made even Merthyr seem quite well off, I'm not exaggerating.

   Holyhead is a town devastated by the economic situation in every way : it seems like Depression not recession has hit it.  Numerous shops were empty and many buildings were either falling into dilapidation or were derelict. There was an atmosphere of hopelessness on an incongruously bright day which intimated Spring.

   It was the first thing the taxi-driver talked to me about, without any prompting. He was deeply saddened by the town's plight and told me of the many employers who'd left, including Anglesey Aluminium quite recently. I could understand why a new nuclear power station was seen as essential, even though I wished for so many other alternatives.

   It's a place which deserves them. It would be wonderful if people stopped here en route to or from Ireland to savour the town, like the port of Roscoff in Brittany. I dream of a haven for sustainable industries, local crafts and galleries where the spirit of the arts centre at Ucheldre permeates the town. We desperately need a Senedd with enough economic powers to carry out these.


                             THE TOWN OF LEAVING

In the town of leaving
trawlers are flying white flags,
anticipating their owners.

The young skateboarders
yell and roll down the high street
towards the ferry port and another nation.

In the town of leaving
shops hang onto their signs,
their windows bricks or roller-blinds.

Jets from a Camp nearby
tattoo the sky, making lines
like borders as they fly.

In the town of leaving
the road terminates at a promenade
with no beach, sea with no stirring.

Paint from buildings is flaking and blowing
away across the island grasslands :
salt-winds lick walls and ceilings.

In the town of leaving
visitors step from boat to train
oblivious to the last person, frantically waving.