As a Cardiff City fan, this season has been particularly frustrating. Expectations were high as that expert at promotion from the Championship Neil Warnock promised us one more season.
   Yet we haven’t looked convincing once, even defeating QPR 3-0 they controlled possession and looked the better team.
    Defeat against rivals Swansea two weeks back pushed many loyal fans into questioning Warnock for the first time.
   Even before the game his team selection was flawed, going for two up front against a team who try to dominate midfield.
   This was reflected in a dire performance, lacking spirit and aggression and with the two strikers showing no understanding.
   Our regular hoof-ball came under great criticism and many wondered if the Championship hadn’t moved on and most teams play now with considerable mobility and deft passing.
   Our emphatic victory over Birmingham a week later will have answered many critics, though during the first 25 minutes they played wonderful football, pulling us apart and creating at least four clear-cut chances. With a striker like Che Adams they could’ve been out of sight by half-time.
   Instead, a fortuitous penalty changed the game, but this time Warnock did seem to pick the right team.
   In a three-man midfield Joe Ralls thrives and much as I marvel at the skills of play-maker Tomlin, it’s obvious that Ralls can’t afford to push forward with him in the team.
   I still feel that our only chance of promotion is to bring in a younger coach in the Frank Lampard mould who’ll give youngsters opportunities and alter our style of play radically.
   Warnock has done a superb job uniting the club and getting promotion to the Premiership. He could be moved on to Director of Football to accommodate such a change.
   We’ve players who could thrive under a different regime: Etheridge might learn how to kick, Cameron Coxe get selected , Murphy become a consistent threat and a certain Omar Bogle have a run in the team.
   Bogle’s a player I rate, though I know Warnock has reservations about his character. He’s direct and powerful, has a great shot, can take free-kicks, holds the ball up well and isn’t bad in the air.
    With Ward’s suspension and Glatzel’s injury, he should get a chance to prove himself.
   As to the crucial January transfer window, there’s one player many fans would like to see back with us and that’s Victor Camarasa of Crystal Palace, who has only played minutes since joining them over the summer.
   The Spaniard was inspirational for us in the Premiership , with vital goals and assists and would fit in perfectly to a three-man midfield alongside Ralls and allow Pack to sit deep. At Championship level he’d be even better and securing him on loan would lift everyone at the club ( p.s. his wife loved Cardiff).
   Our best wingers Hoilett and Mendez- Laing are returning to the form which took us up last time, however the biggest selection problem is our central defensive pairing now Sol Bamba’s fit.
   Despite Ryan Nelson’s promising debut v. Birmingham I see the future being Bamba and Morrison.
   Flint has had stick from fans, but he’s a better player with a quicker partner alongside him. He reads the game well and , like goalkeeper Smithies, it’ll be a tough decision to leave him out.
   But Bamba and Morrison are used to each other and are complementary in style.
   Our lack of cover at full-back is a concern and I only hope Jazz Richards returns to full fitness soon.
   Being a Cardiff fan can be a struggle though we haven’t yet lost at home ( or won away mind). It remains to be seen whether the 4-2 win over Birmingham was a turning-point as Warnock claimed.
   This season the Championship is incredibly open, as when top team West Brom were defeated at home by bottom club Barnsley.
   The first two players Warnock signed for us were out-of-contract Bamba and Junior Hoilett and they remain at the club, fans’ favourites for their sheer passion and endeavour.
   A lot will depend on the January transfer window and as well as Camarasa we need a top striker ( again!), though our record signing them is dreadful. Gary Madine anyone?
   Dundee United’s Shankland is a name we were linked with over the summer and might well be worth pursuing.
   Warnock needs to make crucial decisions about formation, central defence and striker and to alter tactics away from home where we squander possession too often.
   Our manager is nothing if not an excellent battler and motivator and at least he has plenty of leaders in the squad, from Pack to Morrison to Bamba.
 
                             ONE  OF  THESE  DAYS
We’re half way down the table
Or half way up if you’re optimistic,
We’ve only performed in flashes –
Winning at home, losing away
 
But, one of these days…….
 
Paterson’s looked as is
He’d rather be on Fortnite,
Tomlin’s lost two pounds
But doesn’t always play
 
One of these days…….
 
Glatzel’s got a couple –
We’re playing football
To give everyone neck strain,
Does Warnock know another way?
 
One of these days…….
 
We’ve got three good goalies
So it might be better
To select all of them –
3-4-2-1-1   okay?
 
One of these days
 
We’ll play like the USA
World Cup winning women’s team,
String three passes together
Like we can really play
 
One of these days.
​

 
  A few months ago I did a series of creative writing workshops at Greenhill Care Home in Pentrebach, Merthyr Tudful.
   I have been wary in the past of the whole idea of art as therapy. The concept of prescribing poetry or painting on the Health Service seemed to limit its appeal, whilst making funding more readily available of course.
   It also appeared to narrow creativity into the solely confessional ; the area now occupied by most singer-songwriters to the detriment of their art and , sadly, an increasing number of younger poets who might need to re-read Plath and realise that she made her own pain and suffering universal through imagery.
   Poetry is so much more than confessional outpourings and can create the kind of worlds which fiction aspires to, yet through its music and metaphors can summon up the subconscious.
   It was with great trepidation that I embarked on these sessions.
   The organiser assured me he’d provide all that was needed : pens, journals and a supportive environment.
   Looking back, it was one of the most challenging yet fascinating experiences ever.
   It’s not as if I was inexperienced regarding Care Homes or, indeed, the problems of dementia ( which some of the participants lived with).
   My sister has lived for many years in a Care Home and my brother and I visit quite regularly to take her out in her wheelchair. She tries to paint whenever she can and her room is her studio, full of tubes of acrylic , but her physical problems make it difficult.
   I lived with my Gran in Barri when she had Alzheimer’s and witnessed her steady decline. When she was eventually confined to a psychiatric ward it was extremely upsetting.
   At Greenhill, it was soon evident that the staff  were committed and helpful.
       Pens and journals were about as useful as paintbrushes at a football training session!
   The first workshop I was floundering because I simply hadn’t prepared myself for it and was fortunate there were several medical students from the Heath present, who could act as scribes.
   I had life-writing on my mind as the best form to pursue and only at the end did we gather their many interesting experiences together.
   It was the only workshop I did outside in the garden and one man with dementia spoke lucidly about his past, breaking off at the end of a siren or lorry passing to wail ‘Where am I?’ and ‘What am I doing?’ The very sentiments I sometimes screamed internally when teaching.
   After this workshop I had a clear idea of what to do.
   I knew that group poems would work and I’d act as scribe, capturing their descriptions and memories almost word-for-word and putting them instantly into free verse.
   Most sessions took place in their plush cinema room and a few became regular attenders.
   It was so exciting to discover their wealth of knowledge and give shape to their creativity.
   Here are some of the poems which we wrote together……..
 
 
  
THESE  THINGS
 
Vital tool
Small, adjustable
‘Go and get a left-handed one!’
We’d joke to apprentices.
 
Nut to a spanner
Like bone to dog –
Always loyal
Dog wags its tail.
 
As many kinds of dogs
As spanners : taking
Them to Crufts.
Never forgiven if you’re cruel.
 
Songs of kindness
Through guitar’s vibes,
Bring out memories
Through music and song.
 
                                        ********************************
 
GESTURES OF LOVE
 
You cannot pretend
To love someone –
For somebody you love
You’d give them anything.
 
Freesias for a special person ;
Or one orchid can be enough.
Gestures of smiles, laughter.
Pleasure from giving :
Ring, the eternal circle.
 
 
By M., B., D. and C.
 
OPENING WINDOWS OF MEMORIES
 
Thinking of Mam
Times of holidays
When she’d be mistaken
For one of the natives –
No longer with me
Void is so huge
But the photo brings back
So many happy memories
Of my Mam in her prime,
Vibrancy in her eyes.
 
Thinking of the wonderful years
When fruit grew everywhere,
Drinking in the bodega
Sipping the Vino Tinto,
Waiting for the tapas
Tasting the sardinas,
Chatting about golf and wine ,
Swimming after the siesta.
 
Thinking of Beau
A source of great joy,
Encouragement to walk three times a day,
A wonderful disposition
Never heard him growl,
Only claw the leather chaise longue –
This photo speaks
So many words of delight.
 
By M., I. & A.
 
   I used objects, photos and smells amongst other things to stimulate their memories.
   One man, M, was wheelchair bound and brought along a book full of his poetry from over the years. When we shared important photos he showed us one of his mam at a family holiday in Spain .
   I discovered she’d been his only carer and had recently died after a long illness.
   While I was there he missed a workshop to attend her funeral, but hadn’t been allowed to read poems about her at the ceremony by another family member , or play the music he wanted to bring back memories of her.
   The Home – under its diligent and compassionate manager Mitch ( singer of the Moonbirds) – had actually arranged their own ceremony so he could read those poems and play the songs.
   When he read them to us it was very moving.
   D. was full of her early days living near Sunderland. She was nearly 100 and had, at 90, flown a plane to celebrate her birthday.
  A. was an avid book-reader, who lived for her weekly books from the library and A. was an ex-teacher who had lived in an old farmhouse and engaged deeply with the workshop where they had to think of themselves as buildings.
   I became very friendly with B. a highly intelligent former engineer and Mayor of Merthyr. He had never been one for poetry, yet loved talking about his days working in the borough and also his great admiration for Brunel.
   It was a great privilege to meet these people and to be able to transform their many interesting memories into poetry.
   As the workshops developed we began to suggest improvements to their work and I only hope some were inspired enough to want to carry on writing.
 
                                              ++++++++++++++++
 
   This is a poem I wrote about forming an old-timers’ band with my mates Al, Jazz and Andrew. We performed a mad version of this at the Imp once and even Bobby the Seal’s eyes were boggling………
 
 
THE ZIMMER FLAMES
 
 
We’re gonna form a band!
There’ll be Al on kazoo
and me on the mouth-harp,
Jazz on his ol’ church organ
and Andrew on heckledrone
(it’s a synthesizer, perfect for disruption).
 
We’ll be wearing long blonde wigs
look like Edgar and Johnny Winter
and sometimes play instruments
to confuse and entrance
like the wooden, percussive frog.
 
Our songs will be sung
in voices of the deep South
( yet north of Abercynon),
call ourselves The Zimmer Flames
but not after Bob Dylan.
 
Our fans will stamp their walking sticks,
yell for kazoo solos
or daring organ-isms,
raise grey, bushy eye-brows
to praise mad amphibious rhythms ;
desert us at 10 pm.  
​

   We’ve made it to the Guardian’s G2, the Welsh language is officially ‘cwl’.
   When did it all begin? Was it with Dafydd ap Gwilym, or not to mention that Glendower fella from Shakespeare?
   Not since John Peel played the likes of Datblygu and Anrhefn……’development’ and ‘disorder’ don’t sound quite the same.
   Apparently, it’s all down to a heavy metal band called Alffa and the 1 million Spotify plays for their single ‘Gwenyn’.
   And, of course, Gwenno brings out her latest album ‘Le Kov’ in Cornish and Welsh sounds so modern.
   It’s great to be celebrated by journalist and Welsh-speaker from Y Wyddgrug / Mold Rhiannon Lucy Coslett whose dad was dead on when he observed that the language is the water we swim in. ( Especially for the Whales and Carlo prince of the orcas with his underwater kingdom!).
   People of all kinds are now learning Welsh : big, small, fat , tall  ; but let’s not forget one of my heroes Ali Yassine.
   Ali’s a Cymro from Kaairdiff of Somalian descent who’s been on the scene for quite some time and was the best announcer we ever had at Cardiff City FC. Like myself, an avid Adar Gleision,who before games  would play the Super Furries’ ‘The Man Don’t Give A Fuck’ ( about legendary player and nutter Robin Friday) and Dafydd Iwan’s stirring anthem ‘Yma o hyd’.
   Now all we get is machine music, techno-garbage to addle the brain.
   It is actually heartening to see a double page spread in G2 praising the rise of the Welsh language and Coslett’s right that it can’t be separated from the preponderance of ‘Cofiwch Dryweryn’ graffiti, though she fails to mention the emergence of Yes Cymru and ,with it, a renewed interest in independence.
   In the same newspaper the generally excellent writer Paul Mason recently lumped in my hometown of Merthyr with Mansfield and Hull as post-industrial places ripe for Faragism.
   He totally discounted our many differences and ,when I wrote a letter to that effect, they didn’t publish it.  
  Historically, we were represented in Westminster for many years by a renegade Labour MP S.O. Davies, who was way ahead of his time on devolution and embraced our self-determination fully. We had a Plaid-run Council in the 70s and left-wing nationalist Emrys Roberts came close to winning the seat when Labour’s Ted Rowlands was first elected.
   More recently, in a single year’s existence our local branch of Yes Cymru has flourished and , significantly, took the lead to organise the protest against Nigel Farage’s visit.
   Several street stalls and one at the Rising festival proved very successful, with so many positive responses ; perhaps most surprisingly from staunch Labourites who had come round to Indy-ism ; more because of their total disillusionment with Labour in Cardiff Bay and Labour councils failing to tackle austerity  and carrying out policies akin to the Tories.
   Undoubtedly, there are disaffected working-class voters in Merthyr who support Farage ,with many spurred on by the anti-immigration propaganda .
   However,there are also many tired with a failed Westmonster and British state which has never ( under Tories and Labour) improved their lives to any degree. Labour’s dreadful policies on health, education and our economy in Cymru only add to this need for an alternative.
   The cultural distinctions are equally vital and cannot be distinguished from politics.
   A Welsh language revival is wonderful, yet private companies continue to ignore their responsibilities.
   Crucially, the WAG’s plan for Welsh in English language schools is seriously flawed. It anticipates widespread usage yet the reality is there has to be a concerted scheme for training Primary staff and teacher-trainers, together with a curriculum which puts our history and literature at the very centre not margin.
   As to Secondary schools, Welsh is often taken as a half GCSE and , like all languages, given scant importance in terms of training and funding. On the most pragmatic level, it should be fully backed as providing career opportunities. On a cultural level, it must be closely linked to the study of music, literature and history.
   At least the new curriculum does acknowledge the chance for theme-based learning : an old idea which became buried as the obsession with testing grew.
   Welsh could easily become ‘un-cwl’ again, like the music of the 90s.
   It shouldn’t be the ‘secret language’ Coslett finds so enticing ; rather an everyday one, however humdrum.
   Independence does not guarantee this:look at Ireland where, ironically, republican Belfast is at the forefront of a Gaelic revival.  
   We need policies and a grassroots movement committed to revolutionary changes ; even in Welsh-language schools our history and music are side-lined and both are inextricably connected to the language.
   As a learner, I’m excited by the opportunities available for adults, but this should be reciprocated for young people who, far too often, leave to use their talents elsewhere.
 
                                       
 
 
 
 
 
CWTCH
 
You need to be aware
‘cwtch’ is spelt with a ‘c’ not ‘s’
(which is the Anglicized version).
 
That there will almost certainly
be a café near you
with that very name.
 
You need to distinguish
between ‘cwtch dan staer’ and embracing,
though the two could be combined.
 
You must be wary of anyone
who translates it as ‘hugging’
( see ‘hiraeth’, ‘hwyl’  and ‘gwerin’) .
 
You have to cross the border
and ignore the Prince of Wales bridge
to appreciate its loving warmth.
 
‘Gis a cwtch ‘en!’
is not a come on ,
though men don’t say it to men.
 
The perfect scenario is to have one
in a caffi of the same name
whilst sharing ‘pice ar y maen’.
 
‘Cwtch’ is an easier way into Cymraeg
than, say, ‘gwasanaethau’ ;
scientists agree, even whales do it.  
​

 
   I’ve been plugging and blogging about singer-songwriter Thea Gilmore for far too long. My friend Andrew (who introduced me to her music in the first place on one of his special cassettes) reckons I even got a credit on the selected cd ‘Recorded Delivery’ , though I think it might be a different ‘Mike’.
   If he’s right, then I’m dead chuffed.
   A few weeks back our local band of Theaphiles ( myself, Ian and Andrew) attended her gig at the intimate, if a bit sweaty converted chapel and pizza venue Acapela in Pentyrch, which she decided not to try and pronounce. It seemed to me like her arrival centre stage after too long in the wings.
   Dylan wanes, Waits has disappeared, Tom Russell’s equally neglected and our own Meic Stevens continues to awkwardly insist on singing in his native tongue, which relegates him in the eyes of the Anglo-centric media.
   The gig at Acapela – where a congregation of avid fans gathered – highlighted one of her best ever albums, the latest ‘Small World Turning’ ; even though the predecessor ‘The Counterweight’ was rightly lauded.
   ‘This is why I liked her in the first place’ commented Andrew, though she’s never lost it through the years. Ian was open-mouthed, in awe.
   The concert had it all : Thea in resounding voice backed by husband and producer Nigel Stonier and multi-instrumentalist Matt Owens, who was also support act.
   Many songs from the new album were featured like ‘Cutteslowe Walls’ which describes an area in her native Oxford where the walls separated rich and poor –
‘She recalls all kind of trouble
If she played in the shadow of the Cutteslowe walls’
   This apt description is brought home in the final verse with references to food banks and the homeless.
   ‘The Revisionist’, like ‘Glory’ and ‘Blowback’ are far more cutting , dark songs, which show that, despite her ever-catchy tunes, Thea can go for the jugular when it comes to the hypocrisy and right-wing populism of today.
    ‘Throwing hatred like confetti
Drinking populism neat’
   In ‘Blowback’ the character has wide appeal on the media, yet –
‘He sows those coins into the earth
 And fences off his land’
   If you ever wondered what kind of songs the Bob Dylan of ‘Hard Rain’ would be writing today, then here’s your answer.
   She asks the audience ‘Who needs Boris Johnson?’ to which one man replies ‘I do!’  ( my mate Andrew responds with ‘Fuck off!’).
   Her song for her talkative and creative son, ‘Don’t Dim Your Lights for Anyone’ touches anyone whose children do not fit readily into a system which craves bland obedience. It’s an anthem for the kind of young, rebellious spirits who have taken the lead in protests against global warming –
   ‘Some trust in God
Some just pass through,
But me my love
I trust in you’ 
   Interspersed between these wonderful songs from ‘Small World Turning’ were a series of her classics such as ‘Old Soul’ , ‘This Girl’ and ‘Your Voice’, the latter in praise of democracy despite the appalling rise of Farage recently.
   Nigel Stonier (‘ a bad time to be called Nigel’ quipped Thea) gave us the remarkable back-story of the album and how it had been rejected by three record companies before they decided to go it alone and Thea ‘became a label’.
   It actually rose to 16 in the charts in the first fortnight of release and number 1 in the Americana charts here. This is quite odd as , apart from ‘The Loading Game’, the influence of Irish folk is stronger.
   She ended a captivating concert with ‘Karr’s Lament’, such a subtly descriptive song –
  ‘ And the smell of the earth
Where the storm has broken’   
   A sadly joyful one, with a chorus to echo within like the sound of waves at night in a coastal town.
   To claim that Thea has now been acknowledged and recognised may be a little premature ;in the past, her songs ‘ That’ll be Christmas’ and ‘London’ ( with Sandy Denny’s words) had a lot of radio airplay.
   Yet this album , more than any other, speaks about our troubled times without any ranty, shouty directness, which can be so off-putting. 
   If Thea were just a great lyricist then the road would be laid. As it is, she has the music, voice and musicians to match.
   The road rises up ahead – ‘I’ll still be using my voice’ she sings.
   It would be heartening to think that many will tread, upward and onward, to a place of rare sights, to the summit.
 
                                                  COMMON, EXTRAORDINARY
 
I was on my way downhill
Another day’s trudge to drudgery
On a dark winter morning
With the black hole and its tip
Looming across the valley.
 
Under the road bridge
Where pigeons nest in gaps
And the traffic’s groans and sighs
Vibrate above my head ;
Black cat graffiti silhouette.
 
Suddenly, on a street-lamp
A blackbird sings into the nowness
Duped by the brightness
Yet still such a tune
I could only stop and listen.
 
No times to be met,
No appointments or forms :
A common bird so extraordinary
That past and future ceased,
One hand clapping, my applause.
​

​ 
   In the light of Farage’s policies to privatise the NHS , it would seem churlish to complain about our health service here in Cymru, yet my recent experiences have opened up the proverbial can of worms ( do worms ever come in cans?), and it was a letter from a limited company based in Preston, Lancs which did so.
   About a month ago it arrived and my first reaction was that it was a scam.
   It instructed me to attend an appointment at the Opthalmology Dept. at the Royal Glamorgan Hospital at 2 pm on a Sunday.
   Now, I do know that health is a devolved matter and also that Labour are supposed to be against privatisation…..so this threw me!
   I phoned Prince Charles Hospital in Merthyr, where I’ve attended the eye clinic for the last 15 years as a glaucoma sufferer ; though I’ve noticed in the last couple of years that I’ve had to contact them asking for an appointment.
   Phoning them proved impossible as you now get through to a central call centre and I ended up on hold for a very long time.
   When I phoned the Preston firm they told me they were acting on behalf of PCH as their waiting lists were too long, but assured me they’d switch my appointment from Royal Glam to PCH.
   Over a month later, I’ve heard nothing.
   When I put these details up on Facebook many people responded with far worse stories of not being seen at all, being referred to private hospitals who didn’t deal with their medical problem and even to high street opticians. Some had received the same letter and duly gone to the Royal Glam.
   As an eye patient you can’t drive because of the eye-drops administered which ( for those who do drive) makes things difficult.
   For the rest of us, Sunday transport is erratic or , in the case of my area , non-existent!
   What was worrying was the assertion by many that there was no Ophalmology left in PCH and only consultants based at Royal Glam.
   Many patients attending the eye clinic are elderly and should not have to travel such distances ,while buses to PCH are very regular during the week and it’s easily accessible.
   Even more concerning was the reaction from a friend who has been involved in the NHS throughout his life at a senior level. According to him the scenario could be even more disturbing, with the possibility of Opthalmology following the route of dentistry into ever-increasing  private care.
   These two fundamentals kept hammering away at my thoughts : why would a private company in England be deployed in out-sourcing when health is under WAG control and how could a Labour/LibDem administration in Cardiff justify paying a private company to carry out their dirty work?
   Surely, it isn’t even economic to do this, as anyone who complains will have to be relocated.
   I contacted our Labour AM Dawn Bowden who wrote  - ‘…this is a temporary measure that has been put in place to deal with a considerable UK wide backlog with glaucoma follow up treatments.’
   The key here is ‘UK wide’ and this suggests that suddenly , and inexplicably, health is no longer a devolved issue.
   I have now contacted our Plaid Cymru AM Delyth Jewell in the hope that she can obtain more clarity on the matter and assure me that I will get a local appointment as promised.
   All this came at a time of family illnesses where the whole system seemed at breaking-point.
   At our surgery it was always possible to phone after 8 am and get an appointment on the day.
   Now everything goes through answer machines urging you to go online and when you reach a ‘Care Navigator’ any appointment can be as far away as a week.
     Of course, I realise that austerity and impending Brexit have influenced all this, but the fact is that GPs can earn as much working part-time for a week as most teachers over a month and , as with education, the system has far too many managers and not enough hands-on staff.
   As an avowed socialist I want the unfinished business of one Nye Bevan to be fully completed and that means no privatisation whatsoever.
   Consultants need to dedicate all their time to the NHS not private surgeries and nobody should be forced to ‘go private’ because of long waiting-lists for operations.
   As with education, power must be distributed along with wages, so all those involved are making decisions.
   Traditionally ( and the latest variety’s no different) Labour have been committed to top-down organisation , with an inherent suspicion of real democracy which empowers workforce and patients.
   The vast majority of those who work in Cymru’s NHS are hard-working and dedicated, with many who’ve come from abroad to make their lives here.
   Ophthalmology could realistically be devolved to various health hubs such as Keir Hardie Health Park in Merthyr, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan ( if there is one!).
    Labour rule in the nation which produced and inspired Nye Bevan reflects the state of Britain itself : devoid of a vision for the future.
 
                              STILL  WAITING  TO  HEAR
Fifteen years of glaucoma
Inherited from my grandmother,
Though I much prefer
Her ancient typewriter
And love of poetry
I used to read aloud
When she couldn’t see properly.
 
Now a letter from a Preston company
Which I think is a scam,
Knowing our health service
Is supposed to be a Welsh one.
 
It tells me to travel
20 miles for a Sunday afternoon
Appointment but not to drive
Because of the eye-drops
(Luckily, I don’t drive anyway) ;
Though the buses are beyond.
 
Being a full-time member
Of the Stroppy Sods Brigade
I complain to Prince Charles
( Hospital and not Windsor)
And I’m on hold endlessly.
 
Then the limited company
Assure me it’ll be rearranged,
But I’m still waiting to hear……
As our Labour rulers blame the Tories
Ranting against appalling privatisation
As if it weren’t happening here.

   At this time of greatest division and apparent emptiness, my hometown of Merthyr Tudful sees its most extraordinary cultural highpoint.
   It’s almost as if….out of all this distress and depression many are insisting – ‘We can create. The yellow poppy will grow in the cracks of the most run-down street.’
   Our proud history may have been buried in an Anglo-centric curriculum fashioned by a Labour/LibDem administration in Cardiff Bay, yet the Rising Festival has become the focus of the year and every few weeks there are music and poetry open mics along the High Street from top to bottom with no support from the Council.
   Rock bands like the Moonbirds, Florence Black and Pretty Vicious spread their sounds wider, while singer-songwriters such as Bryony Sier and Jamie Bevan are modern troubadours in English and Welsh respectively.
   The humour of Anthony Bunko’s plays and Gus Payne’s brilliant figurative oil paintings totally confound the hackneyed condemnations by sections of the media who depict the town as a wasteland.
   Last year saw the release of a ground-breaking album by the Merthyr artist Kizzy Crawford ( of Aberfan), namely ‘Birdsong / Cân yr adar’.
   I’ve followed her emergence with great interest and enjoyed her experimentation with loops and mellow jazz, but didn’t expect anything as ambitious.
   It’s bold, bi-lingual and adventurous : at a time when so many artists depend on single songs to hook listeners, this is a concept album.
   The theme is the Welsh rainforests of Carngafallt in Powys and it’s very much a collaboration between Kizzy, Bangor-born jazz pianist Gwilym Simcock  and the excellent amateur orchestra Sinfonia Cymru.
   Each song begins in English then seamlessly transforms into Welsh and if the lyrics are occasionally rather too sentimental, it is raised to levels of great emotional intensity by Kizzy’s flowing, feathered tones ( reminiscent of the superb Irish jazz-singer Christine Toibin), Simcock’s subtle phrasing and the ever-sensitive musicianship of the orchestra.
   The album’s journey is a celebration of the rich, vibrant life of these forests, leading Kizzy back to Africa and to a meditation on the power of nature to join all together as one.
   What I love about the album is – despite Kizzy’s obviously jazz-influenced vocals – the music defies genre : soul, classical, folk and jazz merge and emerge like birds appearing and disappearing among the trees…..even as their songs prevail.
   This is not an elegy for a lost world, rather a eulogy for one which exists and should be praised and prized as invaluable.
   Merthyr needs to laud past heroes like Gwyn Alf Williams, Glyn Jones and Leslie Norris, but also to fully acknowledge that our present contributions to Welsh culture are outstanding : uniquely innovative yet never pretentious.
   Indeed, there are exciting talents rising, such as Kizzy’s sister Eadyth who is featured on Geraint Rhys’s powerful new single ‘Old Age Don’t Come Alone’ and young poet Morgan Owen, from Heolgerrig, who has been resident poet on Radio Cymru and was recently commended in the Terry Hetherington Award for Young Writers for poems in English.
   Sooner or later the wider world will have to take notice of this sometimes connected, sometimes disparate ‘Merthyr movement’.
 
                                                 
                                                 WHA WE GOH YER?
 
 
Wha we goh in Merthyr?
 
Yeah, there’s loadsa bands,
poets, painters, singer-songwriters,
playwrights an graffiti artists,
there’s open mics an choirs…..
 
But wha we really goh yer?
 
I mean, mines an ironworks,
factrees an shops an clubs
ave all closed down ,
so wha’s-a bloody point
o songs an verse, ilarious drama?
 
Wha we goh in Merthyr?
 
Piss-artist , stroppy rebels
goh no respect f nothin,
too much bloody swearin
an stickin two fingers up
t evr’ryone in authoritee….
an tha’s jest-a poets an singers! 
​

     

   Okay, I can hear my rugby-following friends say…..here he goes again! But I do have a strange relationship with our so-called national game, as do most of my family ( my brother, who has lived in England for years, is devoted to it however).
   I recall at one of his excellent family gatherings a friend of his, a Kiwi, talking to a number of my immediate family and -, when he referred to the World Cup - being totally baffled by our consistently round-ball answers.
   I grew up playing footie on the streets of an Aberystwyth council estate and carried on in Cambridge, where I eventually represented the City as a right-footed left-winger like Junior Hoilett of my beloved Bluebirds, long before such things were entertained. Actually, my Primary school teacher was canny and knew there was a vacancy in that position, so picked me there for the school. Aged 10 and 11, that was the high-point of my ‘career’.
   From the ages of 11-18 I played both football and rugby for my Grammar school, starting as outside half then shifting to centre where, some games, I hardly saw the ball. We mostly played rugby against posh private schools and in our side were several boys from originally Welsh families ( 2 Morgan’s, 2 Jones’s and me).
   On the coach home after one game, one of the Jones’s ( a huge second row forward) sexually propositioned me. I was frightened and disgusted and avoided him completely from then on.
   Scrum and three-quarters were two separate worlds : scrum from middle-class backgrounds and the backs were football-loving lads with more working-class or rural backgrounds. I identified with them……more so after the Jones incident!
  In the 6th form I played, but with increasing lack of enthusiasm.
  On Sundays I was playing football for a local factory team made up of men and youths from neighbouring villages and I thrived on it. We often played on quagmires against teams including baldy, paunchy players ( I had hair then).
   At Uni I only played football and my associations with rugby were tenuous. The rugby boys indulged in ludicrous drinking games and none shared my passions for poetry and politics.
   I shared digs with two ‘rugger’ obsessed private schoolboys, who oozed a sense of arrogance and entitlement, even though both were from Cardiff.
   On the other hand, most of my mates were football fans from the north of England.
   At an inter-college Eisteddfod I was punched violently in the back by a rugby student for nothing other than my wayward dress sense.
   Yet apparently my grand-dad ( originally from Cilfynydd) had been a really good rugby player……so it wasn’t as if it was a family thing. My parents weren’t interested in either sport.
   Returning to Cymru at 18 to live with my gran in Barri , I soon started following Cardiff City.
   Occasionally, when matches were postponed because of bad weather, I’d wander into the Arms Park to watch the rugby and was bemused at the lack of atmosphere, players slo-mo in a swamp and overall tedium.
   I’ve since tried hard to identify with our national team, yet on the couple of occasions I’ve attended internationals things haven’t helped : it’s one thing being surrounded by pissed fans, but quite another being pissed on from the stand above like a downpour of acid rain!
    Teaching in a Merthyr school added to this dislike, where male rugby-mad staff talked endlessly about all the crazy antics of match-days ( many illegal) , yet not so much about the nuances of the actual games.
   This attitude was summed up once when the Bluebirds were playing the same day as Wales rugby team. On the train home I asked an inebriated couple the score and they didn’t know! This would be anathema to football fans, where the game takes precedence.
   With our success in the Euros and that unique opportunity for fans from all over Cymru to get together for a tournament, I became more and more convinced that it was, in reality, the game for all the nation and rugby had become the property of the establishment.
   Rugby’s stadium is absurdly named the Principality; yes, after a building society, but still signifying our lack of national pride. William Windsor is seen as representative of the team, at the same time as being President of the English FA!
  The three feathers badge is inextricably associated with the British military and also English royalty. Any number of excuses can’t disguise its fawning nature compared to football’s dragon badge.
   Above all, football fans have begun to organise themselves in recent years as a serious force for independence : highlighting its positivity rather than the tired old platitudes of ‘As long as we beat the English’ ( and didn’t the Stereophonics attend Carlo’s Buckers bash not long ago?).
   For all its faults, the FAW has been fiercely independent, especially in rejecting Team GB during the London Olympics.
   I am excited by Wales winning the Grand Slam , yet keep thinking about the negative responses towards our Yes Cymru stall in Merthyr from rugby fans, who seemed ‘daffs for the day’.
   Rugby seems politically to represent an overwhelming nostalgia, while football is more of a dynamic force looking to the future.
   I’d like rugby to change radically but cannot see the fans organising as football fans do. There is a strong history in football of fan power, from clubs being run by them like Swansea ( in the past), Newport and Wrecsam and the creativity of fanzines. It was, after all, our fans who changed the appalling rebrand at Cardiff City through many protests and not Chairman Tan’s mother!
   Maybe…….just maybe…..with prominent socialist republicans like writer and artist Sion Tomos Owen involved in the media coverage there is hope……I’d like to think so.
 
                                         DRAGONS  ‘N’  DAFFS
Ee woz dressed as a dragon
an she wore daffodil ead-gear.
 
 
They wen’  t Cardiff
to  watch-a  big game ,
 
 
they got so rat-arsed
they didn know nothin,
 
 
but somebuddy tol em arfta
about-a Gran’ Slam.
 
 
They’d  felt so lush
with Prince Wills in-a crowd ,
 
 
three feathers on theyer jerseys
like they wuz in-a army.
 
 
Tha stadium named arfta
theyer own buildin society.
 
They wen’  t  bed in Wayuls,
but woke up in-a G.B.   
​

 
   Pan fues i 11  cytunais i gwrdd â fy mam yn y caffi yng ngorsaf bysiau Caergrawnt. Does dim byd rhyfeddol am hynny basech chi'n meddwl ond....y tro cyntaf erioed oedd hi a hefyd des i syth yn ôl i Loegr ar ôl gwyliau yn Aberystwyth.
   Roeddwn i'n fachgen annibynnol siŵr o fod, achos mod wedi teithio o Aber i Gaergrawnt ar fy mhen fy hun.
   Eisteddodd fy mam yn y caffi bach yn wisgo dillad pinc neu goch fel arfer.
Teimlais i dipyn bach yn ofnus, er bod fy mam yn gwenu.
   Ond, aeth hi yn syth at y targed.
   ' Mike.....ry'n ni'n dal y bws i'n tŷ newydd ym mhentref bach o’r enw Horseheath. Dw i wedi penderfynu ar adael dy dad, ac mae e'n dal i fyw yn y ddinas. Beth wyt ti'n meddwl amdano?'
   Ces i sioc fawr ond....doeddwn i ddim wedi gweld fy nhad cymaint dros dair blynedd,  ers  iddo cael cwrs fel llyfrgellydd yn Loughborough.
   Gwelais i fwy o’n lletywr ni, dyn busnes yn cael cymaint o sylw oddi wrth fy mam!
  Dweud y gwir, doeddwn i ddim yn agos at fy rheini o gwbl : fy nhad gyda phroblemau iechyd meddwl a mam gyda blaenoriaethau eraill. Yn union, roeddwn i’n  fwy agos at fy neiniau a theidiau.
   Roedd fy mhen fel nyth gwenyn : swnllyd iawn a llawn symudiad.
   Doedd enw'r pentref ddim yn swnio 'n ddeniadol : 'Horseheath'.
   Dw i ddim yn cofio fy ateb y diwrnod hwnnw, ond cofio'r daith mewn bws trwy le ar ôl lle : taith i fywyd newydd.



                          JAMIE YN Y CAFFI
 
‘ Shwmae !’ i bawb
meddai Jamie yn y Caffi
lle cwrdd â chyfeillion,
yn coginio Pice ar y  maen,
mae Twt Lol tu ôl i’r gwydr.
 
 
Does dim ‘ lentyls mewn cawl’
ar ei fwydlen ddwyieithog
ac mae’r gitâr yn eistedd
fel Prifardd pwysig
yn barod am y cleddyf.
 
 
Mae e’n siarad nawr
am ei fywyd newydd
heb ffiniau fel y môr,
gan anelu at lawysgrif cerdd
ar yr hen orwelion.
​

​

   If you haven't heard of Swansea singer-songwriter Geraint Rhys, then you've really missed out on someone special.
   Like Thea Gilmore in England and Scotland's Karine Polwart Rhys has great variety to his work, but isn't afraid to tackle political issues, never resorting to simplistic sloganeering.
   He confronts alienation, austerity and the threat of factory closure in songs like 'Ta Ta Tata', 'Give it Up' and 'The Lost Generation'.
   In his latest single 'Old Age Don't Come Alone' he writes a gutsy blues song from the viewpoint of his Nan, a fitting elegy to her.
  The stirringly passionate single 'Visca la Terra' is a homage to the Catalan independence movement and his short, prize-winning film of the same name looks thoughtfully at the intimate connections between songs and liberation there.
   The music of 'Ta Ta Tata' and its iconoclastic video moves skillfully between punk and  slower more gentle sections , as if between steel and the sea.
   In a world of music where celebrity rules, Rhys is a unique voice who deserves to be heard far more widely : an intelligent and musically eclectic artist.
   As well as 'Ta Ta Tata' he has released other singles yn Cymraeg including 'Dilyn' and 'Ble Mae'r Haul?' which illustrate the sheer power of his vocals.
   Just as the Indie movement seems on the verge of a breakthrough, so too the remarkable music of Geraint Rhys.

   I conducted this interview with him recently...........


​1. How long have you been writing and singing songs and what inspired you to start?

I’ve always been fascinated with words and have written from a very young age. Whether it be poems or short stories I’ve always had an active imagination which has been expressed some way or another.
Music is something that connects with us all and is often beyond something we can explain. It often saves me, so I started writing songs about 6 years ago and since then haven’t stopped.  

2. What place do your excellent videos have and are you mainly responsible for producing them?

An imperative part of my work is to couple my songs with a strong visual narrative. When it comes to making the videos, I’ll have an idea of what I want to convey in relation to the track then I will find videographers, directors etc whose work I like and approach them and see if we can work something out. I am lucky to have worked with so many talented people.
As an independent artist I am solely responsible for every creative decision I make which is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand I control everything so I don’t have anyone else trying to manipulate my vision, but it would be nice for someone else to take control of many of the practical things when making a music video so that I didn’t have to. It is hard work but always worth it and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

3. What are your politics and are these views vital to your songs?

I’ve never pledged allegiance to any political party so I guess I am a political nomad in that sense. I would say I am on the left of the spectrum, but I don’t even know what that means in the context of Wales or the UK anymore. What does piss me off though is how we live in a society of immediate outrage . I am guilty of it too, but no one has much time for context these days. Once something happens it's like a race to see who can get their opinions out there first without spending time to understand the whole picture . That’s what’s great about writing a song, you really have time to sit down and shape your thoughts.

4. Do you prefer to record in Welsh or English and why?

I don’t have a preference, whenever I sit down to write it will come out in either language and then I will just go with it. What I won’t do though is release a track in English then release it in Welsh just to get a royalties cheque or to appear on Heno. It annoys me when artists do that.

5. What do you think of Yes is More and would you take part in such events?

I think the visibility of Welsh Independence is only a positive thing. I sang at a solidarity rally for Catalunya that Yes for Wales organised so it’s great to see a social movement which is vibrant and seems to be gaining support. For a healthy political debate we need as many dissenting voices as possible. If there was a vote for independence tomorrow I would vote yes

6. ‘Visca la Terra’ was both a song and prize-winning film. How did this come about and what was the impact in Catalunya?

I have a long-standing relationship with Catalunya. I have very good friends over there who I’ve known for almost ten years who are very active in the pro-independence movement. So I’ve visited quite a lot and have been over to play some gigs. I wrote the song and released it a few weeks before the independence referendum and didn’t expect to get the response I did. It was featured on many radio stations and playlists and made it on to many of the news blogs and channels. It currently has over 100,000 views on you-tube so I couldn’t be happier with the response it's had.

7. Like me you’re a big football fan. Does this influence your work at all?

I have yet to write a football song yet, but who knows. Maybe I’ll leave that to John Barnes. Football is political. Take my beloved Swans for example. We have gone from being a soviet type club ran by the fans and local businessmen to a capitalist venture ran by two Americans. It is a cross section of the best and worst of society.

8. Your latest single is ‘Old age don’t come alone’(featuring Eadyth from my hometown of Merthyr). What’s the background to this?

Like all my tracks I never start off with a genre, it’s something that develops over time. So with this track, after my grandmother passed away I started to write some words as a dedication to her life and when I picked up the guitar, the riff came naturally and seemed to resonate with the words perfectly. Losing someone is such an intimate and emotional experience and always produces intense forms of expression. In this song, I tried to capture that intensity. The track is completely an ode to her and for the artwork I had to pick one of my favourite photos of her playing my old drum kit.
 
9. Your music draws from all kinds of forms from the punk in ‘Ta Ta Tata’ to Blues in the new single. Do you relish this eclecticism?

It’s what keeps me interested. Important to me is that my music tells a story and I blur genres to reflect the diversity of topics that I sing about. I would get very bored if I just wrote 12 folk songs, or 10 country songs. I have to enjoy making music otherwise what’s the point? Because my own choice of music is so eclectic this is naturally reflected in the songs I sing.
 
10. To me your voice is powerful and distinctive. Does it suit certain types of songs, or would you like to do more slower ballads for example?

I have written slower songs and will likely to do so in the future. I wouldn’t want to restrict myself by saying no.

11. Place is also important to your work - especially the videos - do you identify with your home town, or working-class areas generally?

I think place plays an important role in so many creative people’s work, no matter the art-form. Growing up in Swansea where the grittiness of the urban streets collides with the beauty of Swansea bay, there is inspiration on every corner.



12. Is social media your main platform, or do you prefer videos or live shows?

Well, you must do all of it to remain relevant. I’ve played hundreds of gigs over the years and do love that feeling when you really connect with an attentive audience. Nothing beats it. Last year I played some amazing gigs which were packed with the audience completely engaged. But you can easily go from playing a gig like that to a gig in a pub with a handful of half-interested punters. So it’s always hit or miss.



13. Are you planning a new album which brings together all the singles in Welsh and English and tour to accompany it?

The reality for an independent artist is that if you want to keep on producing high quality music something must give. It’s not cheap to record music and then to distribute it. Equally, hardly anyone buys music anymore so you have to compete with that. I will definitely be releasing another single in the next few months with a new video so keep your eyes peeled!



                                         BETWEEN STEEL & LEARNING
                                             for Geraint Rhys

On Aberafan beach
the long slim penstroke
not yet a 'C'
between bilging chimneys
and postcode towers -
I am 66 today
and bones go clickety-click
like so many stones
in the rising sea
yet here it's calm
in the January sun
as we walk together
my wife, daughter and I
in a place forgotten and found -
where there are shells
like ones I'd collect and sketch
so meticulously
I name them like a spell
'razor , oyster and mussel'
they're not relics though
but sculptures of the times
of waters clear again
of my daughter gathering them
of the sea whispering
the choices between
steel and learning.
     

    The six images here are all recent examples of graffiti art in Merthyr Tudful, my home town; a form which seems to have proliferated since the infamous Banksy in Taibach, Port Talbot, with its commentary on pollution and innocence.
   Not a Banksy in sight of course, but my garage wall is available should your man from Brizzle decide to do a picture of a pijin like Wayne-O Pijin (sadly deceased).
   The first one's situated by the walkway over the weir, not far from the College and , assuming the little lad could be holding a gun, its politics could be construed as dubious. Having said that, it certainly stands out and the scruffy urchin is seemingly androgynous! 
   The second is tiny and just to the left of the iron heart where the Merthyr Rising Festival holds its main events. On this gable-end was once a mural celebrating the festival, which was then graffitied over with 'FE GODWN NI ETO' ( we will rise again), a statement which berated the distinct lack of Welsh or , indeed, blatantly revolutionary material at the Festival. Fascists then responded and added 'NF' in black below this.
   More recently was a red flag mural which redressed the balance and placed the Festival very much as a remembrance of 1831; but this was sadly removed.
   What the small graffiti here does is to link a heavy metal gesture with the festival, rock with politics, and to keep it in our minds till it begins again in May this year.
   The 19th century gent doing a Mary Poppins impression is the infamous engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel, the man who made the old railway station in Merthyr, now immortalised on the outside wall of Tesco.Strange choice in Pontmorlais, so close to an engine commemorating the achievements of Richard Trevithick.
   The Lennon and 'Trainspotting' ones are very different and take their place on the boarded-up windows of the long derelict YMCA building, which promises to be something.....one day, maybe.
   And finally, the one on a bus-station window......black and white like the two-tone music of the 1980s. Even though they are Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta from 'Pulp Fiction', I like to think of them as symbols of solidarity.
   I notice the blurry couple behind them waiting for the bus to Troedyrhiw and beyond, keeping their distance though.
   Graffiti has always played a role in my writing and the protagonist of my totally unacclaimed adult novel ('The Fugitive Three') Shell is an aspiring graffiti artist. She's only beginning to have visions of what she can do.
   My first book in Merthyr dialect was 'Graffiti Narratives' and the long title poem is split into two sections with verbal graffiti as headings. These two sets of graffiti were well-known in the town and were either side of the railway bridge as you leave High Street towards Pentrebach.
   On one side was ' UP TO £50,000 GO FISH' and the other ' STRIP HAIR,I, JUNK ROT PLACEBO'.
   Our Council years ago were only too happy to rid the place of these messages which fired my imagination so.
   They were certainly two of the strangest and most thought-provoking sets of graffiti anywhere , though I don't think CADW were interested in preserving them!  


                                ANONYMOUS  BOSCH
 
 
When Banksy come t Merthyr
nobuddy bleeved it woz im –
why would ee come yer
when ee’d done P’Talbot las year?
 
It woz a picture of an ewge pijin
cackin on this grey pointy tower,
a bird with attitude
flown straight from-a bus station.
 
It woz on-a wall up Swonzee Road
on-a way t Trago,
perfectly picked s people knew –
it caused a right commotion.
 
Thousands visited, took selfies,
Council done fuckall as always –
it woz on-a News
an front page of-a ‘Merthyr’.
 
One landowner sayd-a wall woz is,
but-a Council claimed it,
put up a screen an fencin,
CCTV an ev’rythin.
 
Till this local graffiti artist
sayd ee done it, Anonymous Bosch
ee called isself……
then nobuddy give a toss.
 
Council withdrew, telly disappeared,
it’s still there jest as clear  -
owner o Trago wan’s it covered up,
‘Filthy disgustin muck!’