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EAU D'ORWELL

2/23/2014

   My favourite Old Etonian George Orwell seems to be everywhere : the excellent comedy series 'Room 101' and the human take an animal experimentation 'Big Brother'.
   CCTV cameras wherever you go and, as Edward Snowden demonstrated,
our internet exchanges intimately monitored by the Security Services of GB and USA.
   We hardly even question advertising any more ; the ultimate capitalist propaganda which tries to create a illusion of choice while promising eternal youth, life and the ability to attract the opposite sex with any manner of items from car to perfume. The only voices raised in dissent focus on whether ad's are PC about certain things.
   Piss-pot lager can be presented as elixir and it must work, because enough people drink the stuff.
   Poets I admired (Roger McGough) and one the greatest singer-songwriters (Bob Dylan)are all paid hefty sums for voice and music to plug total pap.
   If Tom Waits and Karine Polwart were to appear on ad's plugging Bourbon and Scotch I think I'd despair.
   What brought this on was a letter. Like many others at the recent Red Poets event at the Blast Furnace, Pontlottyn, I signed a letter of protest to be sent off to Caerffili Council against the proposed opencast mine at Nant Llesg near Rhymni.
   I received a prompt reply from the Regeneration and Planning Dept. (Orwell's Ministry of Truth writ small). For 'regeneration' read 'eco-vandalism' and for 'planning' read ' short-term gain'.
   The letter's full of newspeak, the word Orwell used in '1984' to describe the propagandist language which deals in opposites.
   The letter calls opencast 'surface mining' : this sounds like a delicate process and the exact antithesis of the huge hole (at least 60 metres deep) which will devastate the landscape, as it has at Ffos-y-fran near Merthyr. 6 million tonnes of coal will be extracted and this will last at least 25 years, yet there's no indication of the longevity.
   The word 'new'' is repeated five times in the opening paragraph, as though everything will be so much better. It refers to 'road improvement', but not to the massive increase in lorry traffic as a result, bringing consequent air pollution.
   The reclamation - carried out after many years of opencasting - is called 'aftercare', as if the land has long suffered some dreadful illness and only the multi-national company Miller Argent can bring the cure.
   The most laughable example of newspeak is the bi-lingual slogan at the bottom of the letter - ' A greener place / Man gwyrddach'.
So, some 478.1 Ha of land will be excavated ( about 500 footie pitches) for coal to be used at coal-fired power stations like Aberthaw and, miraculously, the whole place will be greener!
Perhaps the 'green' refers to the colour of people's faces with sickness, when they breathe in the dust and fumes?
   More likely it refers to the colour of money which Miller Argent will use to 'bribe' the Council, as it has done in Merthyr . Our once anti-opencast Council now call Ffos-y- fran 'reclamation' in similar newspeak.
   The letter's signed by the Development Control Manager , another contradiction.
   If he/she were genuinely controlling development then this scheme wouldn't proceed, instead we'd have investment in homes properly insulated   and in sustainable energy sources not fossil fuels.
   The signature on the letter is indecipherable, but it could be that of Winston Smith.......this is where he ended up after the brainwashing!
   The answer 'lies with the proles' as Orwell said in '1984' ( an often forgotten socialist statement) and in this instance the local people.
   Orwell was a prophet who would years ago have warned us of the frightening consequences of climate change, I'm sure of that.
   From Tower to Ffos-y-fran he would, with his acute sense of smell, have sniffed impending doom in the wind.

                               EAU D'ORWELL

'D'yew wan some 'Dream o Beckham'?'
'D'yew wan some 'Smell o Beyonce?'

I nearly asked for 'Smell of Beyonce',
just to confound gender stereotyping

from the tills of Savers in town;
mechanised as handed out receipts.

I was tempted to ask if they stocked
'Aroma of Baldrick', combo of dandruff,mud and gob!

Or, being a romantic, for 'Dream of Julie Christie',
a retro Zhivago hint of fur and snow.

But no, I just chuckled inside and smelt poverty:
made on Wigan Pier, Eau d'Orwell.

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WALKING THE VALLEYS

2/17/2014

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Mountain above Ton Pentre

   You pass through the Valleys on the A470 en route to the picturesque Brecon Beacons.
   You briefly admire the ironmaster's castle at Cyfarthfa from the Expressway and cannot fail to notice the 'Arches', or Cefn viaduct.
   You may even head to one of our few designated tourist destinations such as Big Pit, the Civil War manor house of Llancaiach Fawr or the Rhondda Heritage Museum.
   Once there was a Cowboy Village at the end of the Rhondda, but it disappeared with the gunsmoke into glooming clouds over the Rhigos.
   Once there was a dry ski-slope near Merthyr, which was supposed to be a wet one ( as in snow from a machine); that too melted overnight.
   There's still a Climbing Centre near Bedlinog, but the proposed white water rafting course never materialised and now, of course, there's one in Cardiff Bay.
   If you go walking you head for Pen-y-fan, so you can say -' I've done that one!'
   The Valleys are all slag-heaps and pit villages with no point left to them.
   When I used to teach in Cardiff this was the prevalent attitude. People from the Valleys are supposedly parochial, as opposed to cosmopolitan Cardiff.
   On the contrary, most Cardiffians knew very little about the Valleys, so I took pleasure in reminding them that their city was built on the very coal which came from our communities.
   Rare exceptions were cyclists who used the Taff Trail, but found that, like most cycle tracks in Wales, this one too often merged into town and village.
   In terms of cycling we could learn from England and the likes of Barnstaple and Wadebridge, where the tracks are almost entirely independent and bike hire is reasonably priced and freely available.
   Walking is something that we need to publicise far more widely, as there exists innumerable interesting ones throughout the Valleys. Thanks to Taith Bevan I have experienced three of these in the last few weeks.
   Never mind Coastal paths and National Parks, our own Valleys are a wealth of walking possibilities.
   Above Mountain Ash is the hamlet of Llanwynno ( although I'm not sure what defines a 'hamlet', except I once smoked them!). We went on a long hike in a circle which took in a stream called Sychnant which was anything but 'sych' (dry) and the waterfall of Pistyll Goleu (nothing to do with 'pissing', but a little spout nevertheless).
   This is the ideal walk because you begin and end at the Brynffynon pub and can toast the local legendary runner Guto Nyth Bran with a pint of the best real ale, after a seven mile trek. There are shorter routes, of course.
   The next weekend, we three intrepid explorers set off to conquer the mountain above Ton Pentre. Sherpa Jamie Bevan took the lead, followed by the music-man himself Andrew Bartz, balancing on the uneven stones and myself taking up the rear and surreptitiously mainlining chocolate biscuits.
   This was more difficult than the sheltered conifers of Llanwynno, as we headed upward onto boggy moorland and a huge cloud. I had never experienced such a weird weather sensation of fog and strong wind at the same time.
   We carried on walking and landmarks of car-park and lake had been mysteriously lifted. We would've continued till we reached Cardigan Bay had I not suggested veering left towards the forest to begin our descent.
   Amazingly, we arrived back at Ton at the point where the instructions specified and a welcome 'paned o de' at a local caff. With perfect timing, the rain came tampin' down just as we made our way back to the car.
   My favourite hike - though one I'm still recovering from several weeks later - was the circular route down from the Rhigos (between Hirwaun and Treherbert) ,into Blaencwm at the very head of the Rhondda Fawr and back up to the Rhigos again.
   Taith Bevan excelled with this one and not once did we stray, except to ask a fella in Blaencwm, who gave us several alternatives routes.
   This walk took in all the varied Valleys' landscapes in one.
   At the top of the Rhigos were carefully placed flowers where someone had a fatal accident. This mountain is renowned locally for its micro-climate and can be very dangerous for drivers.
   Downward , we passed the remarkably preserved Stone Age settlement of Hen Dre'r Mynydd, with its remains of circular stone dwellings. Our path was often blocked by rusted car chassis and we debated whether they were there because of accidents or whether joyriders had torched and pushed them over the edge. We were glad it was a quiet Sunday!
   After Blaencwm, there was a steep walk up to the high ridge overlooking the village: it took us past waterfalls in full flow. At the summit there's a Man U. flag and a plastic memorial to somebody's Taid (grandad).
   Down into the forest and we thought we'd spied our first sheep of the three walks (so much for cliches!). They turned out to be beautiful mountain goats; the Billy goat looking rather menacing with his large, sharp horns.
   'Don't stare 'em in the eyes! ' I suggested,' just like we were in the Wyndham!'
   Finally, upward on a knee-cracking, heart-bursting path beside a fast-flowing stream, disturbing a heron which gracefully flew away doing its pterodactyl impersonation.
   We'd seen the huge gap in the hillside left by the mine which once gave Blaencwm its sole purpose.
   There's an equally large gap in the experiences of many in Cymru, myself included.
   I know programmes like 'Weatherman Walking' have sought to remedy this ; but the Valleys are all too easily dismissed with stereotypes and cliches.
   I would like to thank Taith Bevan and Balancin' Bartz for three fascinating journeys into the unknown........and for getting us home without recourse to the emergency services!

                        BLAENCWM SHRINES

They worshipped at the Shrine of Plastic
before pushing cars off the edge,
torched and burnt before they somersaulted
down the steep slope and now only crows
pick insect offerings in rusted hulks.

Red Devils' flag flapping on the summit
of the ridge, waving like the young boy
taken before his climb ; black plastic lettering
of TAID overlooking the valley houses
running like channels coastward.

In the forest, making pledges of peace
to a herd of goats white as stream-surge,
the Billy's butting horns axe-like,
returning to pupiled stones of Hen Dre'r Mynydd,
carried out of time by wild sights.

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RED POETS : 20 YEARS OLD

2/9/2014

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The usual suspects in Merthyr precinct

   The Red Poets did our first benefit for a good while last Wednesday at The Blast Furnace pub in Pontlottyn, an anti-opencast event organised by UVAG ( United Valleys Action Group).
   Along with musicians Huw Pudner/ Chris Hastings and Merthyr's own Jamie Bevan we were delighted to show our support and help raisefunds for the cause.
   It is vital that proposals to carry out opencast mining locally are resisted as strongly as possible so they are jettisoned forever. There's no future in fossil fuels and the air and noise pollution which are a consequence of these vast sites are intolerable. The proven incidence of asthma and lung diseases in areas close to the opencasting only reinforces the argument.
   In the newspeak of the company behind it Miller Argent (and now Merthyr Council as well), all this is merely 'land reclamation'. But the land, once dug up, can never be reclaimed by the forces of Nature which existed there.
   Years of strip-mining (as they term it in The States) and extension after extension leave a massive whole to be filled in : the wildness is banished and eventually replaced by a plasticky surface, a mockery of grass.
   After 20 years of existence Red Poets is still going strong and Wednesday night provided the perfect platform for the return of local lass Sian Roberts (on top form), old-timers like Tim Richards with his signature poem 'Fuck 'Em' and youngsters like Josh Allen and Tom Rickarby who've only recently joined the throng.
   Red Poets invariably thrive at such venues, working-class pubs with no pretensions.
   As Sian Roberts rightly said in her intro. , ours is a poetry for the people by the people, not an elitist art-form which tries to be deliberately obtuse.
   That's not to say we don't have variety : from Julie Pritchard's poem- and- song to John Williams' street couplets and Mike Church's up-to-date take on Dylan Thomas, there are many contrasts.
   Much of the evening was filmed by Debbie Price who , along with other members of UVAG like Jim Davies and Dave Green showed what a talented group they are.
   MC for the night was another member Alun Roberts, who has contributed a great deal to Red Poets over the years, including the power of his stapler to put together issue number 1 , after the printers failed to deliver.
   It was great to be doing a benefit and I hope we can do more in future. In the past we have supported the Liverpool dockers, anti-poll tax union and Cymru-Cuba.
   We missed our regular heckler Andrew Bartz and wish Jazz would return with his earth-quaking 'Giro City'.
   Another invaluable poet down the years has been John 'Maesycymmer' Davies, sadly confined to a wheelchair for a number of years and we have all missed his rollicking humour and p-ing into the microphone.
   This is the busiest time for Red Poets I can recall and we're so grateful to the singer-songwriters who join us, Huw and Chris and Jamie and Barry Taylor.
   On February 18th we return to Clwb-y-bont in Pontypridd, with Jamie Bevan doing some songs as well. On March 12th we are at Newport doing an Open Mic. at Stow Hill.
   On April 25th we are being let out of Cymru for the first time (unless you count Hay!) and the border guards have been warned! We are performing at The Bird's Nest pub in Deptford, London where exhibitions by John Williams and Gus Payne will also feature on the walls. A chance for our contingent across the border , such as Owen Gallagher and Alan Hardy, to come along and read.
   At the Imperial Hotel in Merthyr on June 5th, as part of the Dic Penderyn events, we are lauching the very first collection of poetry by Tim Richards, 'Subversive Lines'. This will consist of the poems which have appeared in the magazines for every issue except the first one, plus some new ones.
   And all this leading up to the launch of issue 20 at The Imp once again, in late September.
   I'd say we are unique, not just to Cymru, but to Europe. Expect not to see us at the Hay Festival or on the pages of the NWR. Expect instead to see us at The Imp and in the 'Morning Star'.

   People who think we benefit from being a part of this Disunited Kingdom should take a look around Merthyr, my home town. Once the deep mines and ironworks and almost every other manufacturing industry had gone, we have been left like a colony, abandoned. We're on crutches, hobbling from pawnbroker to Pound Shop, from Food Bank to Charity.
   The Boomdays never happened here and, with all the Cuts, we've never been more Bust :-



                                 NO BOOM, JUST BUST

Never seen a Boom in Merthyr
we've only ever seen Bust ;
Government stats say it's getting better
as we scrabble for a crust.

We'll be back to searching
for lumps of coal on the hillsides ;
Pound and Charity shops and Pawnbrokers
are the ones who thrive.

Get a job in the Retail Park,
get a zero contract or minimum wage,
stats claim there's loads of work........
you'll have to move to London to live.

They've cut all the benefits
like lopping off our limbs
and next come the Council cuts
making our brain-cells rust.

Cameron and Osbourne claim it's improving
and they've got the numbers to prove it ;
tricking us with figures like loan sharks,
while debts are screaming the opposite.

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EAU D'ORWELL

WALKING THE VALLEYS

RED POETS : 20 YEARS OLD

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