His signature song was 'Barry Lamp-posts'
   It was the period between the end of hippiedom and the onset of punk and Barry's 'local leg.'  singer-songwriter Rod Tolchock was the star of the folk club then, the Railway.
   On the face of it, Tolchock was a hippie hanger-on, a peace and love merchant ; after all, he wore a woolly teapot cosy hat and kaftan (though his climbing boots didn't quite  fit that).
   Yet he took his nom de song from Anthony Burgess's 'A Clockwork Orange', the 'tolchock' meaning an attack on someone......hardly a hippie sentiment!
   With his anarchist philosophy and insistence on writing about the locality, he wasn't your typical James Taylor impersonator.
   His anarchism was never the screaming of 'Destroy!' of Johnny Rotten however and he always espoused setting up alternatives within society rather than simply trying to drop out.
   Some of his songs were definitely influenced by his taking of various substances, which placed him closer to the psychedelic strain of Syd Barrett and Beefheart.
   He was wild and unpredictable : sometimes dreadful and inspired in the same set . He often punctuated songs with his thoughts about poetry, revolution and green politics (he was ahead of his time in that respect).
   There were a fair share of other exciting acts visiting the club : single performers who could imitate brass bands with their mouths, or do amazing things with one harmonica.
   I believe most were astounded that Rod hadn't made it Big Time.
   Today, he'd be a hit on You-Tube and I have no doubt and his singalong 'Barry Lamp-posts' would be the perfect antidote to Gavin & Stacey cliches.
   I never got close to him, despite the fact that it was my job to do the write-ups for the 'Barry & District News'.
   Rod smelt pungently of dope and cats, but it wasn't that which distanced me and my best mate Dave. We wanted to keep him as a mystery.
   When friends reported back to us that the local record shop Christopher's never stocked anything by him, we'd just reply - ' Can't understand it! Not even recognised in his own town!'
   Also, Rod always seemed to have a woman nearby and more often than not it was Debbie ,who sat at the front and was his unofficial Fan Club.
   She was small, blonde and feisty. If she thought you were mocking his work she'd become very protective and a series of expletives would machine-gun from her gob, making Vanessa's insults positively charming.
   Rod, like Van the Man, was impossible to interview as well.
   I once attempted a short one for the paper
,but gave up after the second question.
   'Just lissen to the fuckin songs, man......' he dismissed me, combining punk venom with hippie phrasing.
   I wish now I'd recorded some of those crazy nights
at the Railway, or down Porthkerry Park where we'd follow Rod like children behind the Pied Piper, for beach parties in summer.
   He left Barry after suffering some kind of breakdown and I still look out for him on the streets of Cardiff, listening for every busker just in case I hear that refrain.
   He could have been, but never was.
   Now he only exists in the memories of people like myself and Dave : titles of songs, snatches of strange choruses and , above all, that vision of Rod on stage, peculiar and unique, out of his age.
  I did manage to scribble down a few of his phrases for my reports and some resonate today , like -
   'Every song should be a small revolution.....changing people's views forever with its groove.'


'Rod Tolchock' wasn't his real name, of course ;
I never did discover what it was.

'It's here inside my 'at, mate!'
he gave his tea-cosy a point.

Someone claimed he was John Toshack's cousin
and didn't want to be a hanger-on.

His tea-cosy was the only heirloom
he inherited from his Nan when she passed on.

He once supported Roy Harper (so he said).
Before his Memo gig he dropped acid ;

shouted at Security to catch the snakes
he saw writhing around in the audience.

He was the best and worst performer at the Railway :
mad, sad, funny, sometimes burbling away.

In the late 70s he went missing.
Rumours had him in India searching

for a guru, or chanting in Cardiff centre
doing the Hari Krishna.

Rod would come out with his philosophy
like others burp or sneeze.

Once he told us - ' Nothing will be achieved
till people learn to think like trees!'


Briar makes an O,

porthole to waves of wild rye,
scaly-shine trefoil.


Bindweed trumpets raised :
fanfare for strangle-tangle ;
green throat of hedgerow.


Ancient garden oak,
two arms open to embrace
the house should it fall.


Cat quick catch claw-climbs
up bark chasing fret of flies :
dark side of moon eyes.


Rock cactus garage,
roots in the spongy spread moss :
white petals of tiles.

   You'd think concept albums were things purely for proggy rock followers of Pink Floyd or Rick Wakeman.   A phenomenon of those pompous days before punk spat on all of them!
   What place for them in this century, the age of the download, shuffle and individual song?
   Yet - and this is a huge YET - I maintain the 21st century has actually produced the most captivating by a long way.
   The greatest singer-songwriter of all time Tom Waits even released two in the same year, 2002.
   Both 'Alice' and 'Blood Money' were written for theatre, in a similar way to The Who's rock operas made into films.
   Although the play was produced in 1992, 'Alice' wasn't out till much later and, like the other, Waits' wife Kathleen Brennan was integral to the song-writing.
   The imagery and language of both Carroll's Alice books is prevalent and music suitably strange and atmospheric, ranging from balladry to angular jazz, with an often melancholic mood.
   Characters such as 'Poor Edward' and 'Table Top Joe' certainly belong in a modern underworld.
   Like 'Blood Money' and his earlier 'The Black Rider' Waits develops the music of Kurt Weill.
   'Blood Money' comprises songs for  the play 'Woyzeck' by Georg Buchner, premiered in Copenhagen in 2002.
   As a concept, it's held together not by language and character, but by the feelings of the protagonist and some of the darkest lyrics are set off against the most pacy sounds.
   Though it's more disparate than 'Alice', it's also more personal :listen to 'All The World is Green', such a sensitive love song.
   The fact that he released them simultaneously is remarkable.
   If you're put off by his growling, gritty vocals then you're missing one of the genuine geniuses of contemporary music.
   Along with Loudon Wainwright and Tom Russell, Waits has continued to produce music to excite and challenge.
   Tom Russell? Is the usual reaction to the singer-songwriter that Beat Poet Ferlinghetti once described as America's finest.
   His concept album 'Hotwalker' came out in 2005 and is a remarkable collage of songs, narratives and samples, with readings by Kerouac and Bukowski and a snatch of comedian Lennie Bruce.
   It's primarily a celebration of the work of Charles Bukowski and his influence on others, Russell included, when he grew up in LA.
   The only track which stands outside this is his tribute to Dave Van Ronk 'the Pope of Greenwich Village', a very moving spoken narrative with musical accompaniment which contrasts the Coen Bros film 'Inside Llewyn Davies', supposedly based on Van Ronk's life.
   Though Russell directs the whole affair, his compere is the incomparable Little Jack Horton a 'circus midget' and one-time friend of Bukowski.
   Unlike the Waits albums, it's essential to listen to this as a whole to appreciate the energy and vitality of its protagonist. Though the music is primarily country and folk, Russell uses other forms - such as jazz and folk songs of that era - to  add authenticity.
   This is a concept album like no other : a celebration of lost voices, reborn through both story and song.

   Another American musician who stands alone and has influenced a number of important contemporary artists like Ireland's Villagers, is Sufjan Stevens.
   Like Waits he has brought out two concept albums, the first being 'Michigan', and the second 'Come on feel the Illinoise!'
   It was Stevens' mad plan to bring out an album for every state in the US, but he stopped after two!
   'Illinoise!' is the masterpiece of the two : so ridiculously ambitious you'd think he'd have done a Wakeman and descended into pretension.
   Not so, because it's so quirky and visionary and also because for every intense orchestral piece there's a spare, banjo-accompanied song.
   It's all tied together by the state itself and especially Chicago.
   However, this is no travelogue or simple observation.
   There are UFOs, Zombies, sympathy for a serial killer, the ghost of poet Carl Sandburg and a homage to a skyscraper.
   Like 'Hotwalker' it's full of eulogies. Like the poetry of Whitman it embraces the spirit of an America of openness and discovery, yet with a mysticism stemming from Stevens' own unique form of Christianity.
  Shifting to England, where Robb Johnson's 'Gentle Men' was released earlier this year and is very much an alternative commemoration of the !st World War.
   For anyone unfamiliar with him, he is a seasoned activist, still a Primary teacher and England's most under-rated singer-songwriter over many years.
   He is to contemporary folk what Ken Loach is to film : witty, compassionate and never afraid to share his left-wing opinions.

   'Gentle Men' is an extraordinary exploration of the lives of Johnson's grandfathers, who both fought in that war.
   Like 'Hotwalker' it's interspersed with music from that era, though the sense of time is often created by using brass bands and Music Hall-styles.
   Apart from the great song-writing, it's vital listening because of the interplay of the three main vocalists : Johnson, Roy Bailey and Barb Jung.
   The movement between present and past is constant and there is a prevailing critique of class divisions and how war heightens them.
   This is Johnson's most ambitious project to date and all his characteristic humour, satire and indignation are there, but above all he pays tribute to the lives of his two relatives.
   There is much cultural ado about the 1st World War, but this is the most enlightening anti-war creation I've experienced : never pontificating, always speaking through the people involved.
   One of the best concept albums of the last century was Geraint Jarman's 'Mabinogi', composed initially for a multi-media show in Cardiff Castle.
  So, it's fitting I should make Gruff Rhys's 'American Interior' my final selection.
   Film, book, stage show (and probably t-shirt!) this album tells of Rhys's retracing the steps of his infamous ancestor, the eccentric 18th century explorer John Evans, who journeyed across America in search of a tribe of Welsh-speaking 'Red Indians'.
   In typically original fashion, Rhys even imagines his ancestor accessing emails in '100 Unread Messages'.
   The exploration is better appreciated after seeing Rhys's hilarious live set.
  The album's an allegory for any voyage of discovery : although Evans's intention would seem rather pointless , he actually achieved a great deal on the way, such as mapping the wilderness.
   Rhys brings it off brilliantly through his sheer variety of musical approaches 
and ever-catchy tunes. He makes Evens come alive as his experiences merge with Rhys's own on songs like 'The Whether (Or Not)'.
   John Evans sets out to find a tribe and ends up finding himself.
   The word 'genius' is bandied about by the likes of Jools Holland, but in Gruff Rhys's case it's a definite .

   Amazingly, I haven't even mentioned those two concept albums which deal so superbly with the effects of the economic crisis on the States, namely Springsteen's 'Wrecking Ball' and Loudon Wainwright's 'Songs for a New Depression' and, above all , the greatest songwriting team since Lennon- McCartney, i.e. Scott-Yeats in The Waterboys' 'An Appointment With Mr Yeats'.
   Nobody listens to albums any more , do they?
   Well, if that's the truth then they're missing out on so much.

                             for Dave Evans

1975, a damp dark November evening
in Barry town (but not from Steely Dan
local singer-songwriter Rod Tolchock
announced his master-plan.

Doing the Railway, the folk club
as he always did,
he usually sang his memorable
ode to the area's lamp-posts ;

and we would all sing along
except a few trad-folkies
waiting for the inevitable finale
of 'Goodnight Irene'.

Rod, in his tea-cosy hat
(literally, complete with stains),
his pig-tail sticking out the spout
like a pour of silvery-brown.

Rod, in his colourful kaftan
and his powerful aroma
we had an inkling
(the youthful girls inhaled him).

Rod, who we expected
to do a Shane MacGowan
(before The Pogues, of course)
and fall into the audience.

Rod, who announced his concept album
'Barry Bus-shelters' that wet night
and claimed he'd do a tour
and perform in each one.

Rod,who sang about the one opposite
and some bloke who'd told him
he'd seen a whale off The Knap
and would he like to buy acid?

Max Boyce was all the rage at the time
and Rod was like a visitor from another planet
I wrote something like that in my report
for the 'Barry & District', but they never published it.

It was the beginning and end of his concept
and his grand tour never even started.
He returned to that raucous chorus :
'Barry lamp-posts light up my life!'
for Pete & Elaine

A blue boat speeds into the harbour

and we too have been trawling

all evening, but in the car,

spreading our nets to catch

any quick-slipping memories.

In streets, houses and rooms

so familiar yet so changed

we are seeking out creatures

of long ago, our former selves

seeming a different species.

Lights of the windows, aquariums

where students bend over computers,

while we strain for elusive shapes,

dark movements on walls and ceilings

and snatches of voices and songs.

On the brink of a stone jetty

we feed the outgoing tide

with ashes of the last generation :

powdery dust of two lives

and below, the shoals unseen.


   A remarkable couple of weeks for many different reasons!
   Beginning with the viewing of the rough cuts of a documentary 'After Coal'. Directed by Tom Hansell and produced by Patricia Beaver of Appalachian State University, it goes back and fore between the coalfields of south Wales and Appalachian Mountains showing the parallels and divergences and focusing on vital cultural exchanges.
   Also, it draws attention to the ways in which those two communities are coping with the aftermath of coal-mining.
   It's an ambitious project and is still a way from being finished. I'm personally delighted that the music of Huw Pudner and Chris Hastings is included, after Tom attended one of our Open Mic nights in Merthyr and heard them there.
   After the showing there was some constructive criticism and an interesting point from one of the students there, who knew little about the strike in Wales and was fascinated to find out.
   I argued the case that the title is a misnomer, because we are very much living with the effects of coal today, in terms of vast opencast mines and private companies who ignore the wishes of many communities.
   Tom agreed and told us that strip-mining (the American term) was an equally contentious issue
in that area, but was far more divisive with more people seeing it as a job-provider.
  It was fitting that a week later I went to the 'Death of the valley' demo outside the Senedd in Cardiff, organised by the anti-opencast group United Valleys Action.
   Here a sombre and suitably attired procession, complete with coffin,fake vicar, bearers and Grim Reaper (da iawn Tog!) 
proclaimed the death of the Valleys, murdered by opencast.
   A petition was handed  to the Petitions Committee and it seemed like almost everyone did a speech or poem. The corpse was most eloquent!
   Bethan Jenkins AM (I declare an interest here) called for an all-Wales group to fight the scourge of opencasting and this seems essential.
   One man began the call for our local AM , shouting 'We want Huw! We want Huw!'........but no show, as always.
   He's probably doing an impersonation of our past MP Ted Rowlands, who always managed to keep a foot on both sides of the fence : against it on the west, in favour on the eastern slopes!
   Back to Merthyr and following the film we all went down High Street to the New Crown Inn for a jazz evening.
  There was a real mixture of ages, gender and nationalities ; music being the force of togetherness.
   Nobody can pretend that the town is always like this: there can be undoubted tensions and UKIP are on the rise in terms of votes. People still find it easier to blame their recently-arrived neighbours than address the true causes of banks,business and bullying politicians.
   Yet, for an evening, you could believe.
   A young band - made up from Merthyr pop group Moonbirds - took the stage and, though the drummer struggled with jazz, keyboard player and bassist were lively and sometimes adventurous.
   They also backed female vocalists Olga and Delyth McClean, who performed enchanting solo slots.
   I was just a bit disorientated. This was the very Crown where we used to hold benefits for CND and Anti-Apartheid in the 80s and 90s and also poetry readings. The voices of Ifor Thomas and Ian McMillan came at me from the walls like they were retro speakers of a verse juke-box.
   Walls had disappeared since then, just as they did that night between such diverse people. The Crown's a  genuine muso pub and it's definitely 'appnin Goj!'
   A momentous event for me ( apart from undergoing a gastroscopy) was giving a talk in Welsh
  to an enthusiastic bunch of advanced learners who are called Cymdeithas Soar.
   Previous guests had included the likes of Beti George and Hywel Gwynfryn
, so I was 'nerfus iawn iawn'.
   Well, I think I managed okay, interspersed with too many 'so's' and 'y'knows', though I especially enjoyed reading a few of my poems in Welsh to them and they were kind and receptive. It was certainly preferable to the medical test anyway!
   Here were like-minded people, devoted to our language and culture.....I shall certainly be joining them in future.



Dim byd yn y ‘Western Mail’,

dim byd ar y radio neu teledu,

achos ‘sdim ffrae  yna

‘sdim angen i alw’r heddlu.



Dyn y bar o Bortiwgal

mae  Chicken Gizzards  ar y bwydlen,

cwpl o gariad o Wlad Pwyl

yn yfed seidr o beren.



Merch ddel iawn o’r Wcrain

ei lais yn dansio’r bossa nova,

bachgen sy’n canu’r gitar

fel adar lleuad ym Merthyr.



Dim son yn y papur lleol

ond rhannu dros facebook, twitter hefyd :

jazz yng Nghymraeg, cerddoriaeth Americanaidd,

cymysg o bobl yn y Goron Newydd.               








                                           A MIX  OF PEOPLE



Not a word in the ‘Western Mail’

or on radio or the television,

because there’s no fighting here

no need to call the policemen.


The barman comes from Portugal

there’s ‘Chicken Gizzards’ on the menu ,

a couple of lovers from Poland

drinking their pear cider brew.


A really pretty girl from Ukraine

whose voice is dancing the bossa nova,

the boy playing guitar with her

is one of the moon-birds from Merthyr.


Not a mention in the local press

yet shared on facebook and twitter,

jazz sung in Welsh and American music

in  the New Crown’s people-mixture.

PictureJamie Bevan, live at The Imp in Merthyr

   I've said it before, but this time I'll claim it without trepidation : Welsh music is happening!
   I've watched every programme in the last series of Jools Holland and I thoroughly enjoyed it despite the proliferation of very ordinary acts. Imelda May from Ireland may have been retro but was always thrilling and I enjoyed the dark but vibrant country of Hurray For The Riff Raff (a band which unintentionally plugs one of Loach's best films!).
  However, not one Welsh act featured, not even regulars the Stereophonics.
   Some may say - 'Well, there's not a lot out there, is there?'
   Except......there's a plethora of talent!
   Like literature and art (everything but world class footie players, in fact) Cymru just doesn't come into it.
   But maybe it's time to stop moaning about the London-based media and simply celebrate.
   In terms of bands we have three of the very best - like the era of Gorkys, Manics and Supper Furries - these being The Joy Formidable, Future of the Left and Paper Aeroplanes.
Like the days of Cwl Cymru, these represent north, south and west of the country.
   While average groups on the London scene such as Vampire Weekend and London Grammar gain all the plaudits, these three offer so much diversity and originality.
   While 'Wolf's Law', The Formidables second album doesn't quite match the spark of their first , there is still enough to excite. It opens powerfully with 'This Ladder Is Ours', but I was most impressed with the songs which stepped outside their characteristic driving rock. 'Silent Treatment' showed why they chose to cover Roy Orbison's 'It's Over' on a previous e.p. and 'Forest Serenade', 'The Turnaround' and the well-hidden title track, all prove there's so much more to the band, with poignant melodies and ever-intriguing lyrics.
   They hail from Y Wyddgrug/Mold and are due to release a series of e.p.'s in Welsh. The cover of one ,' Tynnu Sylw', is to be created by Merthyr artist Gus Payne.......I'm really looking forward to these.
   Cardiff's Future of the Left also branched out in their latest offering 'How To Stop Your Brain In An Accident'. While they maintain the bass-powered , raw sound and often surreal humour, there are interesting departures.
   The half-spoken, half-sung 'French Lessons' is actually a gentle song and 'Why Aren't I Going To Hell?' packs the spirit of Beefheart.....the most iconoclastic band since Datblygu.
   They're unique and very funny and would probably make Jools swallow his immaculate suit and spit it out.
   Milford Haven's Paper Aeroplanes reflect the west coast sound, with words about coast and sea just like Gorkys. Based around the harmonies and song-writing ability of Sarah Howells and Richard Llewellyn their latest album 'Little Letters
' is full of melancholy and songs about relationships, often failed ones. The exception is 'When The Windows Shook' an environmental song about their home town which manages to understand both sides of the story.
   Theirs is a folk-rock to rival the wonderful Thea Gilmore, with mood and tempo varied so subtly and words which are never sentimental.
   The Welsh language scene matches the one in English and, as with literature (writers like Jon Gower, Gwyneth Lewis and Graham Davies) some of the acts record bi-lingually.
   9Bach have just released their first album on Peter Gabriel's Real World label......Welsh language music becoming 'world', and why not?
   Once a straightforward folk band, they now explore an area of trip-folk which really suits the vocals of Lisa Jen. I love their combination of the traditional with echoes of Portishead and Massive Attack.
  They have given a re-birth to the harp , as has Aberystwyth's Georgia Ruth
. She moves freely from English to Welsh on 'Week of Pines' with traditional and country influences and the imagery of Aber prevalent.
   Merthyr alone boasts three Welsh language singer-songwriters , all of whom also sing in English at times.  They are very distinctive performers, with Jamie Bevan singing about the town and its characters, Kizzy Crawford (still only 18!) moving more into jazzy interpretations and Delyth McLean with a  voice which can soar to mountain top then drop to valley bottom :her new e.p. 'Lost in Sound' promises to show off this wide range.
   All this and I haven't even mentioned the astonishing Gruff Rhys with his concept of 'American Interiors' (album, film and book) which shouldn't work, but absolutely does : it's so funny, quirky and moving.
   Amazing times for Welsh music........but is anyone listening?

                                    WE  CAN  SING

All the Big People walk past us
ignoring us on their way somewhere else.

We're on the margins,
busking, selling magazines or juggling.

We can sing or recite a verse
and they might turn heads to listen.

We're glad of a few coins
dropped into our cloth caps.

At night we sleep under bridges,
in empty car-parks, hidden doorways.

We wrap ourselves in the flag,
but it's no woollen blanket.

The Big People meet to discuss
what to do with us :

need us there as a warning;
our questions disturb their success.


Bloody ell I seen im!
I seen im down town agen,
Dress-up Dave bin away frages
an ee wuz wearin a crown.

In-a Works lookin at cheapo books;
not jest any ol crown
but a proper We Three Kings one,
though ee ad is sewt on.

Almos sif ee wuz gettin back
to is ol ways afta time
underground or in Outer Space,
or  per'aps  an institution.

Not even a placard sayin
'Balthazar Dave' angin,
ut with all the glam an glitz
on is fancy ead-gear.

I seen im, Dress-up Dave,
ordinree up to is fore'ead
an then, a nest o jewels.
All ail King o the Presink!


    The Welsh education system is going through a  serious crisis.....and I'm not talking about dropping down international league tables or declining results at GCSE and A Levels.
   Focusing on schools , the damaging and aimless system  is a direct result of Labour misrule from Cardiff.
   Yet what have the opposition offered? Plaid Cymru have responded with a paucity of policies ranging from laptops for every teacher (we only ever got the cases for them!) and cutting summer holidays ; very unpopular with teaching unions and not necessarily beneficial to anyone.
Tories are predictably reactionary , while even the Lib Dems did advocate smaller class sizes.
   Former Education Minister Jane Davidson's prize policy of the Foundation Phase , which deploys many teaching assistants and involves a great deal of learning through play, is having disastrous consequences on early years literacy and numeracy.
   I can foresee its impending demise, because many teachers feel it has swung too far the other way and neglected the basics, meaning that many more pupils are struggling with reading, writing and maths.
   Pupils must now make the rapid and traumatic change from this to a tortuous testing regime.
   In the last month pupils from Years 1-9 have undergone tests imposed by the Welsh Assembly Government and therefore one of the main policies of Huw Le
wis, absentee AM for Merthyr and present Education Minister.
   These have been carried out to report back to parents, to check on schools and , above all, to prepare pupils for the international PISA tests. Wales has been slipping down the league, so these are very much 'testing for tests'.
   Ironically, this is at the very time when these tests have been criticised by numerous leading academics. Even in Shangai, which boasts the best results, they are questioning their validity.
   For once a Head is talking sense
  and Robin Hughes (Sec. of their union , ASCL Cymru) has questioned whether they are genuine reflections of intelligence, because they 'squeeze out innovation, creativity and resilience.'
   The experience of teachers in Wales reinforces this.
   The recent WAG tests (modeled on PISA ones) showed no attempt at differentiation in terms of ability, yet any teacher practicing this in class would be castigated .
   6 and 7 year olds are forced to do timed tests and are branded as failures from an early age. Even bright pupils have struggled with the reading matter and alien problem-solving (literally, in one case, with numerical problems involving aliens!).
   The language test for this age group contained material about sea shanties! Even the dreaded SATs were more child-friendly.
   Inevitably teachers are pressurised more and more into teaching towards these tests, thus wasting school time.
   No opposition parties have raised concerns about a system which is becoming frighteningly Govian.
   In the past I have put forward many proposals , often revolutionary. However, I believe the ten points of this manifesto are achievable and even a reformist party could adopt the majority of them.

1. Reduce all class sizes to 20. This is an absolute necessity and would lead to a dramatic improvement. Any teacher will tell you that more pupils can be given individual attention and behavioural problems are much easier to deal with.
2. All schools to be run as democracies, rather than dictatorships by Heads. Pupils and teachers to have the greater say in their running. Boards of Governors to consist of parents, teachers, pupils and locally elected representatives.
3 Introduction of choice in school clothing. Give pupils the right not to wear uniform if they want. For the sake of comfort, needless disciplinary time-wasting and expense, the abandonment of militaristic uniform makes sense, in line with most of Europe.
4. No Pass and Fail in exams, only degrees of achievement (originally the GCSE was intended to do this). Gradual return to the ascendency of coursework, with all of it done in school to avoid plagiarism (research done at home). This would give all pupils an incentive: at present far too many are failed at GCSE.

5. A Welsh national curriculum, but with the rest balanced between the global and local. To use literature as an example, the focus would be on Welsh writers in both languages, but there would be opportunities to study the likes of Brecht or Angelou and to research local writers.
6. Teachers rewarded for remaining in the classroom
; the opposite of the present situation , whereby progress is seen as leaving the classroom and becoming a 'manager'. With schools becoming democracies rather than being modeled on businesses, there would be less time in the classroom and more opportunities for staff to contribute to executive decision-making.
But the actual teaching would be paramount.
7. All inspections to be done internally or - in cases of concern - carried out by advisers. These advisers would be experienced teachers given sabbaticals to help any teachers through their problems, probation etc, produce resources, run useful courses and give exemplar lessons. Finance saved by the abolition of inspections could go towards the reduction of class sizes.
 8 The Foundation Phase replaced by a combination of learning through play and determined focus on literacy and numeracy. Those who continue who need the latter should receive help in both until they can access the rest of the curriculum. In other words, there's no point in a broad curriculum without being able to read, write and cope with the maths.
9. Creation of a fully comprehensive system by abolishing private schools. Education is a right not privilege and nobody should be able to buy their way into the upper echelons of society. This could be done by withdrawing charitable status from these institutions and stopping the Armed Forces from subsidising them ( when members are abroad they can send their children to them).
10. Investment in new technology a priority. The finance could come from a more balanced pay structure, with Heads etc virtually superfluous. Tablets for all pupils should be the aim and some schools do already deploy this system. Education does seem to lag behind the changes in society and this would make schools more appealing to young people.

   Giving 16 year olds the right to vote might well alter the priorities of our political parties, but I also think that politics should be studied in school , perhaps as part of PSE. Young people need to be aware of the various political philosophies on offer and make their own choices.
   Comparisons with Gove's iniquitous regime in England mustn't lull us into complacency. By stealth, we are in danger of heading the same way.

                            TESTING  FOR   TESTS

We're being tested again
so we can all do better
at the other, bigger tests.

These are the Welsh ones,
but they want us to do well
in something called PIZZA.

I can't wait for that :
mine's a pepperoni and sweetcorn
with thick crust and double cheese on top.

We're learning all the right tricks,
past papers and I'm only ten :
I'll pass them with garlic bread!

My Bamps says he did the 11 plus
and they were like performing seals ;
I imagine him flapping for sums.

My mam says - ' Don't take no notice!
It's on'y coz ee failed!'
But I think he talks sense.

Maybe they're offering us pizzas
because they want us to perform,
to leap through the hoops.

Sitting and sweating in the classroom,
letters and numbers like fleeing fish :
wish I could honk, wish I could swim.


Out back the moon is grazing
orange then milky-white light

we've fed it myths and legends,
centuries kept fenced in

lowing over darkening moorland,
scratching away dust against oaks

in craters of its eyes
we search for ourselves

we would fly and pick
like birds on its back

out there, the seldom moon,
hide glowing above grassy tide.


   I've known Tim Richards for a long time.
   It could've been longer, as we both attended Aberystwyth Uni. in the early 1970s. While I was heavily into left-wing politics there, Tim concentrated more on 3rd World First. I recall that group collecting money and leafleting on the streets (well, street) and I must have passed him many times.
   We met up in the early 80s and the first encounter was amusing.
   I'd expressed an interest in the Welsh Socialist Republicans and myself and my wife went to Tim's house in Abertridwr to meet up with him and a few others.
   I didn't know at that time, but my colleague and namesake at Pen-y-dre (who later became a great friend) was a prominent local Labour member, who even appeared on a party political broadcast. I later found out the Staff nicknamed him 'Mister Average' as a consequence.
   I had never had any time for the Labour Party : reformist, Unionist and, in the Valleys, as corrupt as the Masons.
   The entire meeting consisted of Tim and the others quizzing me about Labour strategies and eying me  rather suspiciously. I was totally baffled!
   This could've put me off, but I knew that this was my politics and soon became inspired by many of those involved, especially Alun Roberts, Robert Griffiths and, of course, Tim Richards.
   Tim was my political mentor in many ways : an idealist who always stresses the need for involvement in local communities ; he has even been arrested for his beliefs when he expressed strongly republican views. The trumped-up charges could never stick against Tim's intricate legal brain.
   The anti-poll tax campaign symbolized Tim's ideas of putting direct action into process and he helped many people who had been forced into court simply because of their poverty and inability to pay that iniquitous tax.
   In those days Tim was a script-writer, journalist for 'Y Faner Goch' (monthly paper of Cymru Goch) and pamphleteer extraordinaire.
   Though he had written verse in school in Swansea, it wasn't until the birth of Red Poets' Society (as we were then) that he took to it with the same fervour and energy he had given to many campaigns.

   He has since appeared in every single issue bar the first and issue 5 ( available on our website www.RedPoets.org) features four poets : Jazz, Alun Rees, Sian Roberts and himself.
   'Subversive Lines' ( published by Red Poets, £5) is his first ever collection and brings together most of the poems which have been in the magazines, plus some new material.
  It illustrates all his characteristic traits : it's full of humour, imaginative twists , passion and verbal Molotovs.
   On the cover is his own photo taken in The Netherlands of a car with a tree and plants growing out of it. It represents his desire to see a better world and through his poetry and life, to change people's consciousness.
   'Crime Lesson' epitomizes Tim's view on what crime really is : the greatest criminals being those profiteers in the City who steal millions with impunity.
   'The Sheep of Wales' is a veggie rallying cry (even though Tim isn't one), where he imagines a militant army of sheep taking over. It's like 'Animal Farm' condensed, revisited and reborn.
   'Drunk!' and 'Stoned!' are excellent performance pieces, as is the explosive 'Fuck Em'. In the former he envisages the puking piss-artist as ' a non-lethal organo-chemical weapon'.
  'Capitalists' encapsulates in just five verses what many would take tomes to express, hitting us with the subversive last line - 'they know all about money but its worth.'
   His invective against news broadcasts and the right-wing press are equally scathing and ,again, the final line of 'Daily Hate' is packed  with wit as he sums up the paper's attitude to Europe and its loathing of 'the whole bloody continent!'.
   His poem 'Red Poets' Society' ( a name he prefers to Red Poets)  shows his self-deprecatory humour; poets might like to think of it as show biz , but  ultimately it's a minority interest - 'We got our fans,both of them.'
   Two poems attacking the monarchy combine lacerating wit and a quirky vision, with 'Aliens' depicting them from another galaxy.
   A series of poems look closely at the absurdity of modern life, using hyperbole to great effect -
 'If you are losing interest in life and despairing of my reply please press 10' ( 'Helpline').
   Two poems share his deep involvement in the anti-nuclear power movement in Wales and 'Necklace' is most moving, with its description of the effects of radiation from Chernobyl.
  'Landscape Photographs' shows another side of Tim, with his enthusiasm for photography; though he realises that no photo can possibly capture the beauty of the scene -
          ' The mountains rule me
            allowing me to capture them
            fleetingly, on their own terms
            in a simple photograph.'
   Please come along to the Imperial Hotel, Merthyr Tudful on June 5th (7. 30 pm ) for the launch of 'Subversive Lines' as part of the Merthyr Rising events.

    I know Tim has been busy writing down his political memoirs and there are many wonderful stories.
   The following poem is based on one of these.
   What I don't explain is that we actually got the wrong place and the huge lime-burnt graffiti couldn't be seen from the Garden Festival site in Ebbw Vale in 1992!

                         3 A.M.  ON MANMOEL  MOUNTAIN
                                   for  Tim

Slopping in muddy ditchwater
cords damp
as a piss-the-bed
sweating steep rock faces

burning in the lime

maps upside down
tired inside out
trying to find contours
by torchlight,
the fanatical driver
reversing towards dark heather
the perfect backdrop

for words in lime

it's all been planned
except the fog
thick as a hangover
after a Skull Attack night -
over the next ridge

headlines of hypothermia
songs of martyrs
3 men of Gwent
2 men of Merthyr
went over the mountains

for the burning of lime

a path of potholes
slopes like wet slides,
white of bird-shit
splashed and spotted,
rubber gloves and masks
to perform operations

hallucinating sheep into buckets,
arms drooping to housing estates
backs throbbing like headaches,
ceasing to care
whether it was FEE WALES

while below the final rivets
the blow-lamps and drills

finish off the structures
of a 3D advertisement -
brushing away the fog
painting in the stars,
a 40 foot constellation
FREE WALES our exhibit

burnt with the lime.