He's renowned for his iconic photos of all famous pop and rock stars : Blondie, Elton John, The Specials, Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney and.....me and my mate Dave Evans!
  The background to this photo , taken on June 19th 1976 ( I know because I googled it), is that we met up with Chalkie Davies at Bob Marley's concert at Ninian Park, Cardiff, where he was taking photos for the NME.
   Dave knew him quite well, having grown up in Barry. I'd never met him previously.
   This was just before Marley came to prominence with the single 'No Woman, No Cry' and also before Chalkie went on to become one of the world's greatest rock photographers, producing countless memorable pictures for the NME and then many album covers, including those for The Specials, Elvis Costello and Thin Lizzy.
   Coincidentally, on a day of tampin' rain much like that June day at the home of City (who we both supported then), myself and Dave met up at the National Museum to view Chalkie's exhibition there ( it runs till September 6th).
   If you haven't been yet, then it's a must for anyone remotely interested in music, as it's fascinating seeing the photos of David Bowie in his Ziggy Stardust tour with all his transformations, Dylan alongside Graham Parker looking like brothers in arms and The Specials all gazing up at something (you're not sure exactly what).
   When you witness the ones of Debbie Harry in oh-so-sensual pose and Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungeon together in Phil Lynott's bathroom, you realise just how much part of our awareness of rock music Chalkie's images have become.
   All in glorious black and white, despite the fact that he did take up colour when he moved from the NME to The Face magazine.
  Chalkie Davies simply gave up rock photography in the 1980s when he lost interest in the music scene.
   It's a shame really , as Dave and I were discussing how much great stuff was around then, apart from the charts : bands like Carter USM and The Fatima Mansions whose  anarchistic views and highly original styles were reflected in the Welsh scene by the likes of Datblygu.
   It was good to meet Chalkie that day and to see his battered camera case open up to reveal a wondrous machine.
   Despite the torrents of rain, the Marley gig was unforgettable as we left singing the chorus of 'Get Up, Stand Up' , voices to and fro in a soaked but song-shone crowd.



                                  BABYLON  FALLING



Babylon was falling down
that day at Ninian Park
where we sat in the Bob Bank,
place where we'd cheered,
chanted and often groaned.


Swigging back a cider flagon
like hobos to keep out the cold
and damp, the sparse crowd
gathered to see a wiry Jamaican
and his band, to wail along.


Intoxicated, we played football
with the empty bottle, kicking
it into a goal ; I raised
two fingers in a Robin Friday salute
to an empty, sodden field.


Little did we know how the lens
that caught us then - like rebel tones
of that Rastaman singer -
would enter from those drab wings
onto a stage of heroes and villains. 

                 
   

   On the whole, this season has been one of triumph for my beloved Bluebirds.
   This may seem a curious or even perverse thing to say given the fact that we finished 11th in the Championship with more and more fans staying away and the football dire at times, especially at home; given the fact that we're still run by a dictatorial billionaire who cares so much for the club that he only watched us once all season.
   Also, we have a manager who the majority of fans (myself included) never wanted in the the first place and who has largely failed to convince.
   Yet.....we began the season in a state of utter shambles after being tipped for the top.
   Manager Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, having failed to keep us in the Premier, had collected players over the summer like a kid with footie stickers.
   There were no partnerships, no pattern and some players showed no hunger for the battle ahead.
   He sold our one leader, Mark Hudson, to Huddersfield and we were left without a viable option for captain.
   He amassed lots of strikers, but none had any pace to threaten defences.
   He kept changing formation every game and playing people out of position. We were rapidly plummeting!
   Above all, the despised red shirts and dragon badges ( nicked from Wales and Wrexham) gave fans a focus for their fury and frustration.
   Demos, boycotts and the regular chanting of 'We're Cardiff City / We'll always be blue' only heightened the sense of a fractured club and even ex-players like Fraizer Campbell admitted that a return to blue was essential.
   Commercially it was a disaster for owner Vincent Tan, as his new red stand was almost empty and nobody bought the red merchandise ( only retro blue was selling).
   To be fair to Solskjaer's replacement Russell Slade, he soon realised the predicament and declared that the situation was affecting the team's performances.
   Thanks to pressure from supporters' groups (especially Bluebirds Unite) Tan gave in , though he used his dear old mother as an excuse.
   This was a vital turning-point for me and many fans : our sense of belonging and history restored despite the owner's distance from us and the club. 
   Slade may not be the most inspiring manager, but it has been a difficult transition and he is right to argue that we could have gone into free-fall and followed the paths of Portsmouth and Coventry into the lower leagues.
   He was much criticised for bringing in players who were merely work-horses, yet a number do not fit that description : left-back Malone is actually better going forward, striker Doyle has the hallmark of a natural goalscorer and the Everton pair, Kennedy and McAleny have been full of skill and enthusiasm. If only we could sign the latter permanently over summer.
   For the manager the problem has been centre midfield, where he has continued to pick Whittingham and Gunnarsson despite their drop in form.
   Better teams always seemed to possess one player who controlled the game from that number 10 position : Norwich's Hoolahan and Brentford's Pritchard stood out.
   Nobody picked these players up and Slade had no tactical response during the games.
  This, more than anything else, is what fed my doubts about him ; plus his fanatical adherence to 4-4-2, like previous manager Dave Jones.
   Then, when Kenwyne Jones went to Brentford on loan and Revell got injured , he was forced to change.
   Doyle and McAleny proved a success and afterwards, Mason replaced the injured Evertonian.
   This was the kind of combo Bournemouth had used to such great affect all season; with Wilson up front and either Kermogant or Pittman playing deeper.
   As the season came to an end we not only won games, but began to play with a little style ( while missing fans moaned on the messageboards).
  Our return to rightful blue and traditional badge ( okay, with incongruous Chinese dragon attached) and our manager's eventual flexibility are both cause to celebrate.
   Given the utter chaos left by OGS, maybe Slade hasn't been given the credit he deserves.   
   There are still many fans who won't renew their season tickets.
   Their reasons are varied I'm sure, but I believe many have been too spoilt over recent years : every season we've been involved in something meaningful, if only relegation from the top tier.
   For success to return, this summer is crucial.
   We must retain our few class players such as keeper Marshall and player of the season Manga.
   We must sign at least three quality players who are going to be first choice for the team : if only one were to be Alex Pritchard of Spurs, best player in the Championship last season.
   Rumours have already started flying, like the swallows over the River Taff.
   One of the latest involves ex-player Joe Ledley who has bought a house in the city. Yet why would he join us from Crystal Palace, where he's picked regularly?
   It can get ridiculous, but I'm addicted to all the online gossip and messageboard 'stories'.
   It's what you do when there's no footie : imagine all the great players we are suddenly not signing!



                                THE  RUMOUR  SEASON


Now the football's finished
the rumour season begins :
they'll be flying like martins
till we start all over again.


Will we be signing Dirk Kuyt
this time round, as his daughter
is in Howell's school alongside
those of Messi and Iniesta?


We could just about afford
Gareth Bale's big toe-nail.
Lower leaguers and loanees,
players from France and Africa....


the journos and messageboards
will be dropping names and fees
like coins into a well.
On You Tube they'll all look brill.


We'll have to sign a striker
for a few million, so seasons sell;
as long as his name's not Cornelius, Maynard, Velikonja
we're bound to do really well.   

  A day to go and I still don't know.
  Is there any point in voting in Merthyr, where Labour will stroll in as ever?
  Our MP retired : Dai Havard the 'Member for Baghdad', spent more time in Afghanistan than here ; often seen on telly in a flak jacket ; now the troops have been withdrawn he's lost his purpose!
  I received a leaflet from his heir Gerald Jones in English only and emailed him in Welsh asking why and also his views on 'glo brig' (opencast). He eventually replied saying that his party always tries to support the Welsh language and the Assembly was responsible for opencast decisions.
  Not true apparently and he sounds like a Ted Rowlands type, with a foot in both camps : Rowlands was against opencast on western slopes, but in favour on the eastern side of the valley!
  You'd hardly know there was an election happening in Merthyr, home of the great Rising.
   All the usual suspects have posters and placards in their houses and a local Labourite regularly buys the 'Daily Mail'!
   UKIP posters adorn the fences which surround Trago Mills' decade-long wasteland, surely a symbol of their rubble of policies  from outright denial of global warming to 'respectable' racism .
   But if Labour will sleep-walk in, then UKIP will come second ,I fear.
   There are enough people around who point the finger at immigrants from Europe rather than the real culprits : the banks, the Government and Labour at Assembly and Council levels, who have failed miserably to create any alternatives.
   So what will I choose?
   In this presidential style election it's very much about the performance of leaders on the media. Yet, we are crying out for less leaders and more people taking power into their own hands.
  Reformist parties will, as ever, make minimal  changes to our unjust society.
   I'd like to see a country based largely on nationalised industries and co-operatives, with Council housing once again being built, but this time designed by communities and with the freedom to improve.
   I'd like to see schools become democracies not run by yes-men Heads, with our fanatical testing replaced forever by learning for sheer enjoyment and courses created together by teachers and pupils.
   I'd like to see people trained in hi-tech and sustainable industries , so they wouldn't have to leave the remoter and abandoned parts of Cymru : every home made 'green' and smaller industries using local materials and the talent available.
   I'd like to see the Arts at the very core of our country, not increasingly pushed to the periphery by cuts and forced to scrape around for private sponsorship.
   Some of these ideas are touched upon by the reformist parties, I realise.
   The Greens actually talk about co-operation in education and getting rid of the stultifying examination culture.
   The Commies and TUSC are strong on the need to nationalise , bringing energy, water and transport companies into public ownership to ensure decent prices and services.
   Plaid Cymru are obviously the party which come closest to my own vision of a Welsh, socialist republic, though they are aiming for the spurious half-way house of Home Rule.
   These are all parties who claim to be anti-austerity, though we shall see if they get any power, what they deliver.
   Without a PR system which can make an impact, I do feel the futility of this election.
   I recently travelled to Ceredigion  and witnessed the sheer exhilaration of a genuine battle between Liberal Dems, Labour and Plaid Cymru.
   By contrast, Merthyr seems as empty and broken down as the huge Hoover factory.
   I wonder if we could state our preferences - from 1-5, or whatever - whether a lot more people would be involved?
  I would feel a greater motivation to vote if I could choose between Plaid, Green and Communists ( though they do need to change their name!) for an order of preference.
   There are plenty of people who appeared on the Channel 4 series 'Skint' about Merthyr who probably see voting as pointless.
  Though, with their highly individualistic life-style, I doubt the solidarity needed for a revolution would appeal to them either.  
   I only watched the final programme and not because I was shown on it, haranguing Carlo with a megaphone poem.
   The subtitles were unnecessary and downright patronising. There were also mistranslations like 'potch around' as 'potter around'.
 However, it was more sympathetic than I'd expected, illustrating how poverty can drive lively and interesting characters to crime.
  'Skint' is just one perspective on Merthyr. It was definitely more realistic than the 'Real Merthyr' relayed on walesonline website,a touristy vision of daffs and rock-climbing.
   Yet  I know those living on benefits who are highly intelligent and creative people, with immense talents which are wasted and views which do advocate a revolution.
   To show them would've been just too complicated though, wouldn't it? These people are nowhere near the inevitable tendency towards stereotype.
   You could do a series of three programmes about the amazing cultural resurgence in this town, from the artwork of Gus Payne to singer-songwriters Kizzy Crawford, Jamie Bevan and Delyth McLean, to bands like Pretty Vicious and the Moonbirds.....You could do, but it won't be done.
   A positive message doesn't bring in the viewers and culture challenges with its own small revolution.


                               SOFA  SURFIN




Ee've kicked me out
it woz a stewpid argument
'bout a juke-box
'Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep' -
I fuckin sayd 'No way! '
( shame no Beef'eart).


Ee've kicked me out
without even a key
t get all I owned,
a sleepin-bag ; my phone
woz dead as my life become.


Ee wuz the final one.
Ever tried it mun?
Ever tried balancin
on a fuckin sofa
when yewer ands shake
like it's always winter?


Ever tried ridin the waves
of forms an offices,
find an answer in impossible paper?
Ever tried goin under,
I mean drownin alive
below all yewer memrees?


Coz I'm talkin 'bout the breakers
ewger than any sea's -
divorce an booze, gettin sacked an speed.
Ow I stood on-a board
f moments before bein dragged down
t the subway, like an underwater tunnel
where I could ardly breathe.       
   

      
                                     thanks to Bazza, the wood pijin


This is yewer las chance t decide
before-a shit starts fallin big time,
before I'm off f'r-a matin season.


Coz it's me, no choice -
a PhD, I cun talk posh with a twang,
or coo-coo-colomen Pijin Welsh.


If yew wanna bring in
public bonkin on fences 
or in-a Food Tewbs down town.


If yew wan cornbeef pasties
free an on prescription,
bow t my knowledge o Greggism.


Coz I don show no respect
f'r all them famous No-Wings -
ev'ry statue covered in droppins.


'BONKERS NOT BANKERS!' is ower slogan,
yew gotta pick, but if it's wrong
ev'ry pijin's gonna dive bomb!