and
   Writer and broadcaster Owen Sheers was on BBC Wales last week complaining that English Literature was being made optional at GCSE and pupils would suffer greatly as a result.
   I was on Radio Wales about a year ago making the same point.
   The response of the Welsh Government - Labour, but with a LibDem Education Minister in Kirsty Williams - was typically evasive and disingenuous.
   They deflected it be saying they'd look into the teaching of literature in schools!
   When GCSE results were seen to be deteriorating the week before they responded similarly , by pushing all responsibility onto schools and claiming that too many pupils were being entered in Year 10.
   Yet in both instances it is their policies to blame, just as the austerity-driven agenda of authorities like Labour-controlled RCT have failed music services in the poorest parts of this country.
   Firstly, WAG have decreed that English Literature will be optional ; it's not a matter for schools to contest.
   It will no longer be a core subject, at the heart of Labour's highly flawed scheme of traffic-lighting schools, which amounts to league tables.
   The consequences will be horrendous.
   At present, many pupils only opportunity to read drama, poetry and fiction in their lives will be at school.
   Texts such as 'Blood Brothers', 'Of Mice and Men' and a whole range of poetry ( including some by Sheers no doubt) open up young lives to worlds they wouldn't otherwise encounter, not to mention key books in world literature by the likes of Maya Angelou and Arthur Miller.
   In addition to that, it's certain that fewer students will go on to study Literature at 'A' Level and university.
   Though the present course is unimaginative and limited, there are still important opportunities to engage with a variety of work.
   My life was changed irrevocably by studying several books for 'O' Level, many of them non-fiction such as Laurie Lee's 'As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning' , Graves's 'Goodbye to all that' and ,amazingly, the account of a south Pacific island by a colonialist Arthur Grimble , 'A Pattern of Islands'.
   The English Language course will pay lip-service to literature, tackling it merely through extracts and I doubt poetry will have any place whatsoever.
    Cutting this from the core means extracting the very seeds of future growth; seeds cast aside onto concrete to wither.
   As to the decline in standards at GCSE, to blame this on early entries is absurd.
   Taking English and Welsh as examples : in most cases texts can't be taken into exams, meaning that everything is down to memory and little else. Understanding and creativity have all but been destroyed.
   The demise of coursework is also counter-productive.
   Simply because the former system encouraged plagiarism ( which it undeniably did), coursework has been generally scrapped.
   The obvious solution would be to get pupils to research at home, yet do all the coursework in class.
   At university, students are actively encouraged to carry out their own, original research on a topic of their choice.
   In schools, this is actively discouraged because of the Labour/LibDem administration's policies.
   As to music, I heard a disturbing story at the weekend of a former peripatetic teacher, now self-employed, who has to try and get individual schools to employ him on an ad hoc basis. His job and therefore the teaching of his instrument, is under threat.
   Many excellent peris ,with great expertise, now ply their trade as music teachers in Comps and the future of our orchestras looks very bleak.
   The WAG's intention to set up feasibility studies is far too late.
   The way music fights back and sings out loud and proud has been brought home because of my younger daughter's involvement in the Glam Choir and Orchestra this weekend.
   I had the great pleasure of attending their musical at the Muni in Pontypridd, which told the story of the Glam through songs, film and narration ; a story which ended in hope and defiance.
   Then, at St.Elvan's in Aberdare there was an orchestral and choral concert involving many former Glam members and those from the present.
   Performing there - and at their own concert in St. David's, Ponty the next day - were a group of young cellists from southern Germany, Cellikatessen.
   It was a breathtaking and unique performance by 13 cellists and one double bassist together with their director , Roman Guggenberger.
   Palying with no sheet-music and in an astonishing variety of styles from jazz to baroque to Catalan folk music made famous by Pablo Casals (a song of freedom for his nation), they are a symbol of what could be achieved in Cymru given the right commitment and investment.
   Sadly, the utilitarian and narrow-minded policies of our Welsh Assembly Government make me feel despondent.
   Every Labour or LibDem voter in 'gwlad beirdd a chantorion' must bear responsiblity for this, not to mention anyone who opted for austerity-obsessed Tories.

                 EDUCATING  FOR RESULTS

Of course, the libraries had long ago
been taken over by computers ;
in some schools they'd even
made a pyre of the old books
including ones on the rise of Hitler.

The writing of poetry was replaced
by comprehensions which could easily
be assessed, moderated ; pupils trained
in class to pass examinations :
Plato's 'Republic' realised at last.

Music was a fringe pastime
for those with enough money
to buy instruments, pay for lessons ;
orchestras dwindled to Chambers
and then were merely bands.

Pupils opted out of literature,
no longer at the core
it was more like a stump
thrown through the window of a car,
left to rot by the roadside.

Drama was for big productions only,
with Mayor and politicians invited,
believing their money well-spent
they returned to Councils and the Bay
to analyse results like business trends.

​
        

   Cardiff City are at the heady heights, top of the Championship. Four games played and four victories : a club record and also one for our very successful manager ( in this league anyway).
   Yet....I should know better.
   We're Cardiff City, we always fall quickly; it's the law of the team and of gravity. Expect nothing and you'll be happy.
   'Where's your Celtic pessimism?' asks my Scottish friend.
   ' Haven't got any,' I reply. Though I'm wary like our manager, of getting too carried away.
   But no-one can deny there's something special happening at the club.
   Last season Warnock had the best record of any manager appointed during the season, despite having limited resources and actually spending no money on transfer fees.
   This summer we've signed eight players, two of whom - Callum Paterson and Lee Camp - have yet to figure due to injuries. Probably, both would be first choice selections as well.
   Several of the signings have already made a great impression, especially two signed on Bosman deals i.e. free transfers. Nathaniel Mendez-Laing was captured from Rochdale when other Championship teams were after him. Warnock made a quick decision and acted on instinct ( I'd call it experience).
   Undoubtedly, he's made the most impact so far, as he's top scorer in the league. He's an unlikely looking winger, resembling an American footballer : very tall and broad-shouldered.
   With defences worried about our fast, physical and effective striker Big Ken ( Zohore), Mendez has exploited almost every chance and scored several superb goals. With speed and power, he's virtually unstoppable as Aston Villa's Welsh international Neil Taylor found out.
   We 've beaten two fancied teams who've spent a lot of money ( Villa and Wolves), showing that it doesn't guarantee success.
   Likewise, French midfielder Loic Damour was snapped up for a free from their second division, by the same scout who once spotted a certain Didier Drogba.
   Damour is a tough-tackling box-to-box player with immense energy, a sure touch and no shortage of skill when need be. He's the perfect fit for the likes of Wolves away and suits Warnock's style of attacking on the break.
   At £3 million Lee Tomlin's our most expensive acquisition, from Brizzle City. Some see him as a luxury player and he's also got a charge of GBH hanging over his head.
   However, as the season progresses, the club's most skillful player by some way should become increasingly influential.
   If we continue to do well, more teams will arrive and park, not just the cliched bus, but a huge juggernaut!
   Tomlin possesses vision, quick feet and can get goals and , contrary to lots of opinions, is willing to graft for the team.
   With the exception of Peter Whitttingham's long passing ability, we've had nobody like this for years.
   If Damour's the perfect fit for matches away against the better teams, then Tomlin's the one to undo packed defences.
   In goal another free signing Neil Etheridge ( from Walsall) has done very well to follow one of last season's best signings Allan McGregor ( albeit on loan).
   When N. Ireland international Camp get fit there'll be real competition between the sticks, just as Warnock's favourite right-back Peltier will come under great pressure from the goal-scoring full-back Paterson.
   Though I'm singling out individuals, our whole squad has done extremely well, even after going behind in the Carabao Cup v. Pompey. Fringe winger Matty Kennedy was the best player on the field and utility man Halford made up for his mistake on their goal by scoring the winner.
   Of course, along the way there are bound to be pit-falls : injuries, jail sentences, controversial sending-offs and ridiculous rumours about Big Ken.
   I'm not one of those Bluebirds who take pleasure in Swansea's demise, simply because I'd like to see us beat them in the Premiership next season!
   Great challenges lie ahead ; not least finding rhymes for Mendez-Laing and Omar Bogle should poetry workshops at our stadium be revived.
   Warnock has a phenomenal record getting clubs promoted from the Championship.
   We have the strongest squad for many years ( including Malky MacKay's which won the league).
   I have to say I'm cautiously optimistic.....at least until Vincent Tan sells the club to Peter's Pies and Cardiff Blues take over the stadium.


                                     THE   BLUEBIRD

Where did it come from,
an old Music Hall song?

Here for more than summer,
skimming over the Taff.

Flying higher than ever.
Are there predators watching?

Last song of a dying Swan,
the Owl's only night-time.

Magpies have come and gone,
the Robins are in hiding.

Our bird once captive
in a red cage, now freed.

Up there with cirrus, cumulus ;
up there looking down.        
     

   We return to drenched grass and greyness. My wife and younger daughter in the back of the taxi changing all the colours of melon skins. Central heating on.....in August!
   To counteract withdrawal symptoms I eat nectarines, walnuts, honey and Greek yoghurt for breakfast the next day ( my son C's perfect combo).
   Only my mosquito bites relieved by the coolness.

   It was our first time in Greece since Crete in the early 80s. At the time I'd won a Gregory Award saying at the interview that myself and my wife would visit Ireland with a view to translating Gaelic poetry ( we had done some already).
   Well, at least I wrote several poems about Crete, which appeared in my first book 'The Common Land'.
   Everything seemed planned to avoid the panic we experienced en route to Berlin last autumn.
   Liquids kept to a minimum, see-through soap bags galore and I even weighed our hand luggage.
   Nothing could go wrong.....actually, it didn't!
   All down to Cardiff being a nationalised airport ( or possibly because we'd thought of eventualities).
   In Kerkyra ( we call it 'Corfu') the heat hits you with the force of a sea-wind and not even Springtime in Merthyr had prepared us for this.
   Everyone's pace became instantly slow-mo, except the traffic. Our kind host Teris explained later that everything moves ponderously here, but not on the roads.
   Scooters were prevalent as night-time mosquitoes, zinging past with the bite of those insects and, like mosquitoes, nothing could stop them.
   There were mostly Italians in the first place we visited Ypsos, he told us. Many of the scooterists had no helmets and, later on, we spotted one without lights speeding at night, with a child on the back holding a torch!
   'Roads made for donkeys!' Teris declared and still pot-holed, narrow and, in the main, with no cat's-eyes or white lines.
   A meal at a taverna beside Ypsos beach set the tone for the week.
   I relish pasta and pizza in Italy, crepes and cider in Brittany and the sheer variety of the States; but here was veggie paradise ( and not bad for vegans also).
   While the others could enjoy fresh sardines which had hopped onto their plates, we shared a veritable feast, typical of Greece : bread and dips, grilled veg, courgette balls, crisp oyster mushrooms, salad ( even my MacDaughter ate tomatoes there!) and stuffed vine leaves, peppers and tomatoes.
   After that every meal was very reasonably priced and the locations atmospheric : near the stony beach at Avlaki, in the old town of Corfu or sandy beach at Agios Gordis, where the sand was so hot underfoot it burnt your soles.
   What I love about Greek food isn't so much the quantity, but the freshness, plethora of tastes and the notion of sharing rather than having individual meals. They were eaten in the pace of the place and not the driving.
   If they were devoured like they drove, Rennies would be the afters. Instead, the perfect dessert for sweaty summer : dishes of water-melons and other fruit.
   Just once we ate Italian, at a rooftop restaurant in town with swallows skimming, dipping and circling around ( I think one relieved itself on my bald pate.....always a bird-target!).
   Food shops are also excellent and illustrate just how much we've lost.
   Bakeries and fruit/ veg shops full of delights. Fruit you can eat without cracking your teeth and bread which hasn't had the taste and texture frozen out of it.
   Supermarkets have destroyed so much over here.
   Many of the very good Greek wines are available for a few Euros and I wonder why they don't export more.
   One day we journeyed north towards Durrell country.
   I really enjoyed Gerald's 'My Family & Other Animals' when I read it at school, but the recent series on telly turned into a soap and , apparently, bears no relation to reality : the family were universally disliked on the island.
   You don't get a sense of the stunning mountainous terrain on tv either and stark contrast between arid ground and lush greenery; the circular cactii and swishing bamboo.
   From the road north east, you can see Albania, once ruled by Norman Wisdom ; so close that my phone welcomed me there and then proceeded to explain the extra charges.
   It looked depopulated and forbidding, but that may have been a trick of eye-sight.
   Teris told me that thousands of Albanians had settled on Corfu and they were excellent workers, but on the other hand there was also a mafia there which made the Sicilian one look like amateurs.
   We travelled through the area known locally as 'Kensington-by-Sea', huge villas owned mostly by the English, who didn't mix with local people.
   Carlo ( Pr. Charles) happened to be staying on the Rothschild estate at the time and jokes about rotten eggs and tomatoes were on-going.
   At Avlaki we met Teris's friend Nikos and his wife Sophia ( originally from England), a Greek-speaker and thoroughly integrated into their society.
   He is a renowned sculptor and jeweller with a shop in the old town and a childhood friend of Teris from the very early days of cricket and football in those dusty streets and alleyways.
   Later in the week we visited his shop to view his marvellous creations and drawings for many more : each unique and with a style reminiscent of smaller scale Moore and Hepworth.
   One evening we ventured up into the mountains to a village where we were the only tourists, Nimfes.
   The atmosphere and setting reminded me of a Breton Fest Noz, only with souvlaki and retsina instead of crepes and cider.
   We were there to witness a concert by Vasilas Gisdakis, well-known there ,but even Spiller's couldn't get hold of his cds to order. A woman sang with him and played keyboards, while a man played the distinctive bouzouki I remember so well from the film 'Zorba'.
   In true Greek style it all began at least an hour later than advertised and was still carrying on when we left about 1 a.m.
   Just wish I could've understood the lyrics, though they were less political than in the past according to Sophia. It was nevertheless a magical experience, his homecoming gig in the village square where families gathered and children played well past midnight.
   My favourite beach was undoubtedly Paleokastritsa, because we went early morning when few were there ( my son C. taking us....he knows the island very well).
   We swam in the calm cove, watching a convoy of coaches crawl up the hill to the monastery.
   They must've been from a cruise because when they parked  numerous tourists emerged of various nationalities to take photos of the sea as though they'd never seen it before ; a few dipping their toes in.
   One day we went to Aqualand, the water-park not far from town.
   It wasn't as brash as expected, with plenty of trees and wooden parasols.
   I even enjoyed the slides I went on with my younger daughter, with the exception of a black tube which must have been modelled on some Medieval torture!
   Without my glasses I wandered off in search of toilets and couldn't see any distance.
   Forgetting where we'd parked ourselves previously, I felt like a little kid lost and even imagined handing myself in to security till luckily my daughter spotted my myopic meanderings.
   This was a very touristy experience, yet mostly we'd seen the island in a different way and I was privileged to listen to Teris's reflections on Greece and his memories.
   Though the island looked relatively well-off, most of the mainland is still greatly burdened by debt and unemployment and with no proper taxation structure or progressive policy to address the need for a national health system and the necessary improvements in infrastructure.
   With crippling austerity forced upon Greece by the Troika, you wonder if Syriza can ever deliver. 
   I really hope to return there one day. 
   In a sense, I'll never go away. 


                               THE  SINGER  AT  NIMFES
​

We've taken the serpent road
into the island interior,
where the water nymphs
have grown legs for the evening
and time ceases to matter
as the night cools in.

Old women in black shuffling,
clutching charred sweetcorn,
children flitting back and fore
in the lights their wings
never burnt, the stage lit up
in the village square.

Songs of history and mourning,
songs from a time
before the tourists came :
the two men sit
harmonise and join in ;
the singer sweeps his arms
in gestures of tragedy.

From the audience, he calls children
to his platform and suddenly
his past in these mountains
meets with present renown
and hesitant young voices
splash in shallows of song.