On Bear Ridge

“One minute we had customers, the next minute there was no-one.”

In a lost village, blurred by redrawn borders, hidden under a crumb on the map, Bear Ridge Stores still stands. After a hundred years, the family butchers and grocers – a place for odds and ends, contraband goods, and the last petrol pump for 30 miles – is now silent. But owners John Daniel and Noni are going nowhere. They are defiantly drinking the remaining whiskey and remembering good times, when everyone was on the same side and the old language shone. Outside in the dark, a figure is making their way towards them…

One of Wales’ most celebrated writers, Ed Thomas (co-creator of Hinterland) makes a momentous return to the stage with this semi-autobiographical story about the places we leave behind, the indelible marks they make on us, and the unreliable memories we hold onto.

Ed Thomas speaks about writing the play

Writer Ed Thomas

Co-directors Vicky Featherstone & Ed Thomas

Designer Cai Dyfan

Composer John Hardy

Sound Designer Mike Beer

Cast

Noni: Rakie Ayola

The Captain: Jason Hughes

John Daniel: Rhys Ifans

Ifan William: Sion Daniel Young

World Premiere in Sherman Theatre‘s Main House

National Theatre Wales and Royal Court Theatre

Performed in English (though there are a few Welsh words present e.g. bara brith).

Contains strong language, scenes of an adult nature, loud noises & gun shots

Running time: Approx. 95 minutes (no interval)

I saw it on 25 September 2019 at 7.30pm.

The cast and staff speak of the play.

Synopsis

I usually give quite detailed, near exhaustive, accounts of a narrative but I feel due to how new this play is it would be a disservice to do so. I will just give a general outline for those who want it. A lot of the impact is in the dialogue and performance of this play, so much so it could easily be adapted for radio, so it may seem relatively uneventful. It’s an allegorical narrative regarding the playwright’s memories of his community and concerns about the challenges the Welsh language and culture face both from the past and going forward when there are so many foreign influences, most notably that of England. I probably have forgotten certain elements or omit them intentionally in the following paragraphs so there are some things for you to experience for yourself.

A man, John Daniel, awakens in the remnants of his burnt out butcher’s shop after an aerial carpet bombing raid. He laments he is all alone now in the dark as snow falls about him. He begins to recount the birth of his son with his wife Noni and how proud he was. (I’ve forgotten the son’s name ironically but he does have one).

We then see him and his wife waving their butcher’s cleavers as planes fly overhead. They condemn that they don’t know if they’re on their side or against them during an ongoing war. A war that apparently ended decades ago yet still seems to affect them currently. They then spend a while discussing how their community at Bear Ridge has dwindled as they relive the memories of their past both in terms of recalling their customers, food and events. Their young slaughterman Ifan William comes from out of the trapdoor and goes into the fridge and returns to the underground slaughterhouse after some brief chatter. The couple continue their discussion once he has left reciting their mantra of foodstuffs happily to each other relishing the memories.

John Daniel and Noni dancing to the radio

As the couple are dancing to a repeating song on the radio a captain, who was involved in the ongoing war, walks into their shop and holds them at gunpoint not sure if they are friend or foe. Once reassured he chats with them and says the song reminded him of his mother and youth. He recounts a number of things, including how his commanding officer gave him the order to clear the mountain before then shooting herself to his shock. Eventually he gains the couple’s confidence. They discuss memories and ‘the old language’ which only John Daniel now knows how to speak but laments he is forgetting. He only remembers it because he remembers speaking it to others but they’re all in the past so all he has are his memories with which to keep the language alive. His son spoke it fluently, Noni learned some but he is ultimately alone now in knowing it which throws him into despair.

Suddenly the captain is on edge when Ifan William comes from out of the trap door again. He demands to know why they didn’t tell him of this third person. ‘You never asked’ John Daniel replies drily. Ifan William recounts his childhood growing up and going to university with the now dead son of the couple. The son went to university and was very progressive, philosophical and wanted to keep the ‘old language’ alive. However the son and Ifan William (who the son taught Welsh) were beaten by others one day in the street accusing them of being Germans and other nationalities though they were not as these aggressors didn’t recognise the old language of their own country and assumed the worst (the identity of the characters in the play as native Welsh people is never explicitly stated but some words and phrases dotted throughout the dialogue suggest this along with the distinctly Welsh naming styles of the characters). The son died in the war and had so much potential the characters who knew him lament. Ifan William admits he truly loved their son and their son loved him (to the degree it’s implied to have been romantic in nature but this too is never made explicit). John Daniel silently embraces Ifan William for their mutual loss.

The captain holds his service revolver to his head as Ifan William watches

The captain, after offering Ifan William a swig from his canteen, again recounts his memories. How he was ordered to clear the mountain by a commanding officer who then killed herself immediately afterwards in front of him having fulfilled her duty. The couple refuse to leave, despite being the only people left, as this is where they belong as does Ifan William. The captain tells them he is on the same side as them. Noni, agitated by such a broad declaration, asks if he really is or not and compares it to a river where there are two sides – the side they are on and the other side. People who want to swim over can try but the current is strong and deep many drown in the effort (as if referring to the Severn river which acts as both the physical and metaphysical division between the Welsh and English identities). She asks the captain again if he really is on their side or not. He insists he is. Now they’re all assured Noni offers to make tea and the captain excuses himself asking to go to the bathroom. John Daniel says it’s around the corner, behind the rocks, outside the building (actually it may have been in the building but the actor exits the stage via the rear). The captain leaves silently.

Ifan William enters carrying a tray piled high with a china tea service. The couple and Ifan William sit down to drink. A single gun shot rings out (presumably the captain coming to the same conclusion his commander did and committing suicide). Nothing is said. No one reacts. They sit in silence drinking their tea and then, once everyone is content, a plane flies overhead and it suddenly cuts to black and it seems a bomb was finally dropped on Bear Ridge to clear it.

The End.

Arguably this loops back to the start of the play though you could also read the beginning as John Daniel lamenting his isolation as the only person who knows the old language… which he truly is if the play loops back to that opening scene as his wife (who was a learner), his son (who was fluent) and Ifan William (who was, I think, semi-fluent) are all now gone leaving him truly alone both in his memories, knowledge and physically.

Costumes

I won’t go into great detail. They’re all dressed in the manner one would expect of people left with little to sustain themselves during an ongoing conflict with few if any supplies available over a long time.

John Daniel is dressed in a worn jumper and the white, but now grubby and worn, coat of a butcher with an orange gilet over it. Around his ankles are scraps of cloth over his worn boots. A shaggy beard and overall dishevelled state indicate he has little time to pretend like he is at all at peace with life to attend to such things. Not just due to the situation they find themselves in but it seems like he’s always been a bit like this and the gilet is, as explained during a piece of dialogue, a birthday resent from his wife and the only clean thing on him. Life weighs heavy on his shoulders.

Noni wears an apron and cardigan with a tattered skirt and hobnail boots. Even in these bad times it’s evident she tries her best to maintain normality by taking care of herself appearance wise unlike her husband.

Ifan William is young and his clothes are relatively clean with little sign of wear. They are also of a much more modern, casual sportswear, design compared to those of John Daniel and Noni who, in comparison, could be from a hundred years ago or yesterday in their style of dress (except for the gilet which seems to act like a life vest keeping John Daniel afloat in modern times). The only dirt on the young man’s clothing is the dried, caked, blood from the job he does on his butcher’s apron. His beard and hair are relatively well trimmed in comparison to his wild, mountain man, looking employer John Daniel.

The captain has outerwear of a military design. I would say it reflects the clothing of a First World War office in the trenches but I believe it is meant to evoke a timeless militaristic style really. He wears heavy boots, a serviceman’s belt of pouches and a holster with his service revolver. A large, thick, scarf is wrapped around his neck obscuring any signs of a uniform and he wears a full length woollen, olive drab coloured, trench coat so little else is visible on his person beneath it.

Staging

A rough sketch of the stage layout. I forgot to include the debris at the sides of the stage.

Throughout the play the floor is covered in a light layer of fake snow as though the interior and exterior of the butcher’s shop is gutted.

There are three walls to represent the interior of the shop. On the left wall is a cupboard where Noni keeps the trinkets she has collected and which spill out at the start of the play. On the right is a fridge door which when opened lets the actor walk through as if entering a room sized fridge. Again this too is featured at the start of the play but neither plays any purpose besides establishing the characters of Noni and Ifan William.

The rear wall is in fact technically two pieces which sit either side of a green door frame and door. These are the shop front, gutted by a previous bomb explosion it can be assumed, and a broken window. The door itself is intact with a ‘sorry we are closed’ sign on it and a set of lace curtain netting across it. These are all removed about half way through the run time once everyone is, presumably, stood outside.

A pile of broken school desks and furniture sits left of centre representing all the furniture they’ve had to break up for firewood during the ongoing harsh weather conditions on the mountain without any outside aid arriving. Hidden within this pile are two milk crates used for seats at certain points of the play. Ifan William later uses a tin box as a stool too which I think he brings up from the trapdoor.

Beyond the ‘shop’ are black, dead, trees and high piles of rock to represent the mountain range. A path leads behind the rocks which is where the captain goes, off stage, at the end of the play.

The backdrop is a curved white sheet lit in a manner to give the illusion of a heavy misty skyline beyond which nothing can be seen. It becomes brightly lit when planes fly over to silhouette the characters against it.

Overall I feel it’s very effective though I question if you could actually reduce the staging to be even more minimalist to be honest as so much of the play is in fact grounded in it’s dialogue rather than actions. Throughout the only ‘actions’ that occur are the couple wave their tools at the planes flying overhead once or twice cursing at them, an overfilled cupboard spilling, the couple dance, the captain firing his gun in frustration, Ifan William going in and out of the trapdoor, in and out of the fridge and later kicking up some dust, John Daniel when lamenting the loss of the old language scrabbling about creating a dust storm in frustration and the tea service being brought on at the end of the play. In fact you could even embellish it if you wanted to be honest without detracting from the core dynamics of the play.

An interview, featuring clips, about the play in Welsh. Turn on the auto-translation of the Closed Captions if you want to follow the comments made.

Review

The allegorical play begins with an incredibly strong echo of Dylan Thomas’ lyrical dialogue style most notably heard in Under Milk Wood when John Daniel and Noni begin reciting a list of customers and the foodstuffs they sold and enjoyed in the past as if relishing and being nourished by the language and memories they share.

Throughout John Daniels has a phrase he often uses ‘no, you’re alright’ when he wants to assure others or dismiss something troubling. You could reflect he says this because he himself is not alright though I’ve often heard fellow Welshmen, admittedly of an older generation, use the phrase in the same tone Rhys Ifans uses where it is more akin to ‘I don’t approve but I accept the situation at hand’. There is a lot of the dour Welsh humour present in the play and I wonder if non-Welsh people will ‘get it’. Only when it’s performed in England will we know. I’m sure they will but sometimes it does seem people unfamiliar with that Welsh style of humour feel it can be harsh hence the stereotype some hang onto of us being isolationist when in reality we are very warm towards visitors.

Noni is a difficult character to categorise. She collects trinkets, she laments her sons death and she loves her husband who it seems is notably older than her. The only real information we get about her past, her memories, tends to be through John Daniels recounting the birth of his son and his first encounter with Noni where they both knew they were meant to be together. She fits the Welsh archetype of a valleys girl, that is to say bubbly, chatty, but not afraid of confronting people she doesn’t agree with, however it feels she has the least substance presented to the audience. She seems secondary to the male characters and even her dead son whose ghost echoes throughout the memories of the others. While it can be said that there’s an element of this enforcing traditional stereotypes of women place being in the shadow of the men in their lives it’s not as simple as that in Wales. We have been a soft matriarchy throughout history so a woman being quiet and ‘knowing her place’ is quite alien to us and only crept into our culture through the influences of the English. So there’s an underlying question regarding her character where arguably she is the most conformist of the ‘native’ characters but we don’t have a chance to explore that aspect of her characterisation during the plays run time and it has to be portrayed via the actress’ mannerisms more so than the dialogue.

Ifan William has two scenes, one at the start is somewhat light hearted and merely acts as a set up for the sudden shift in tone towards the end. The actor has some great material to work with as he confesses his feeling to John Daniel and Noni about their son. It could feel a bit laboured by a less skilled actor so to see the shift of the character from somewhat lackadaisical to heart-rendingly broken by his memories really delivers a contrast to John Daniel and Noni. The older characters recount happy times in the past and bemoan their current circumstances while here the younger man finds trauma in the past but, having survived an assault by bigots, seems to thrive in the current circumstances having found his place in the world. So through him we have elements of discussion regarding the ‘truth’ of cultural heritage and the effects of rose tinted memories on passing it to the next generation. While John Daniel speaks of a united community under one language Ifan William presents the harsh reality of conflicting cultures and of prejudice which isn’t acknowledged by the older generation.

The captain, in contrast to the other characters, is notably different sounding not just in accent but diction and phrasing. He is an outsider but I feel the role is being played far too safely so as not to feel jarring when contrasted with the other characters tonally. If anything I would actually like the play to be a bit more bold in this to truly challenge the audience in the later part when he is asked if he is ‘on our side’ or not so they question if he is sincere or playing along for survival. The actor performs the role well but I feel maybe there needs to be some work on the role. Whether it’s to make him more of an outsider conflicting with the other characters or truly get across his desire to be on their side by gradually emulating them.

As it is I assume the intention is for the audience to decide for themselves his motives and values by the end of the play’s events. Does he shoot himself just to repeat history as his commanding officer did; did he do it because, despite his words, he truly couldn’t be on their side despite his intentions as he lacked the language and other cultural aspects to do so; was it because he didn’t seek to become like them. Could it even be the case we should interpret his behaviour as PTSD where he keeps reliving the moment he saw his commanding officer shoot herself, after giving him his orders, thus leaving him to wander in a liminal state somewhere between constantly reliving that memory as a soldier and incapable of reacclimatising to civil society (as is the case for many servicemen who suffer trauma during their service).

I think my overall question about him is, PTSD possibility aside, whether he was a soldier carrying out his duty, but faltered when the opposition was given a face, or a refugee like figure trying to escape the war and ‘join’ the others in their world view of not being defined by the conflict. He feels vaguely defined and I’m not completely certain that was intentional to the degree it appears. Although, in fairness, we never learn his name and it is certain he was meant to be culturally ‘othered’ to the shared culture and history of the other three characters as an outsider.

The staging is good but perhaps needs some refining as I noted when discussing it earlier. At times when a sense of claustrophobia is required it feels there is a bit too much space inside the shop’s interior and yet when they’re meant to be stood outside it feels far too claustrophobic ironically. I’m not sure if that’s because the Sherman’s stage wasn’t quite right for their planned layout but maybe on smaller stages the rubble on the sides (which I omitted from the stage plan though it remains throughout the performance) could be removed to give them more space in the later parts of the play. I only say this as there is a moment later in the play when John Daniels is meant to walk away from the others to ‘speak the old language to the moon’ but unfortunately he is barely 3 metres away on the stage. In fact Rhys gave a cheeky look to the audience at this point as if acknowledging it. Perhaps for that moment he can go onto the ‘mountain path’ the captain later uses leading backstage instead as that would be more effective? It’s an minor issue to be honest.

The performances are excellent but certainly I feel there might be a need to work on the pacing of dialogue or where to emphasis certain lines as sometimes there were moments of speaking over each other with little narrative purpose for it. Also while the characters are distinct I feel there needs to be more confidence in the delivery by the captain as he doesn’t seem as affected nor distinct from the others as he needs to be. As much as none of us wants to see overacting I do feel for John Daniel and Noni to fit the Welsh archetypes they are referencing they may need to be slightly more embellished with John Daniel having a slightly more intense manner with some pregnant pauses possibly.

I understand why the performance choices were made however part of me feels, when the play moves onto the Royal Court Theatre, it’s been done early to ‘tone down’ the Welshness to be more accessible and that feels counter-intuitive considering what the message of this play seems to be. I’ve seen that done in translation of various works to localise things but it never feels like a good idea in the long run. In effect it seems to have caused a Welsh playwright, writing about Welsh cultural matters obliquely, to ‘other’ his message in his own work as if self censoring which speaks volumes about how entrenched the cultural persecution of the Welsh culture and language is in our mindset as a nation.

Part of me feels the refusal to actually name Wales or Welsh in any form is possibly part of the narrative in the sense it is self censorship as the ‘Welsh Not’ was in the classroom for a time in the early twentieth century. However it also in effect makes the play more universal while still retaining the irrefutable inclusion of Welsh things such as the characters’ naming (except the captain who is only known by his military rank title and never his personal name), a reference to bara brith and other elements which seem all too obvious in context to a Welsh audience but might not to a different culture if there was a foreign production of the play. (e.g. how Welsh seems part of the ‘Elder Speech language’ in the Polish fantasy literature series The Witcher and it’s adaptions going as far as the card card in it being called Gwent).

Wales has a number of Welsh playwrights who, when doing work for television, are lauded and award winning yet to set a play in Wales seems to ghettoise it unlike if you set it in England. Perhaps that’s just me recalling my issues with Niall Griffith’s novel ‘Sheepshagger’ which felt like it could have been set in England’s west country or elsewhere rurally without losing anything as it’s so devoid of inherent ‘Welshness’ unlike this play.

I fear, in later productions, this play might have the Welsh elements edited out of it to localise it and thus lose its inherent message. As I said with my review of Gary Owen’s adaption of The Cherry Orchard, which localised Chekov’s play to 1980s Wales, there is a risk of losing part of a message or altering it in adaption which I dearly hope doesn’t occur here as discussion of the trials Wales has faced in maintaining its culture seem to be muted whenever presented to a wider audience. Certainly in my experience few people from other countries know much about us without it being tinged by English imperialism to the point they assume we are part of England and not a separate entity.

There is great potential here but as I’ve seen it so early in it’s run I feel everyone is still finding their stride in their performances and no doubt, should you go see it, they’ll have worked out those nuances so what is already a thoroughly enjoyable, evocative, play about identity will become a modern classic. Already it is getting high praise and, despite the critical tone of this review at times, I thoroughly recommend seeing it!

‘Though we have parted, on my breast’ by Mikhail Lermontov

Though we have parted, on my breast

your likeness as of old I wear.

It brings my spirit joy and rest,

pale phantom of a happier year.

To other passions now I thrill,

yet cannot leave this love of mine.

A cast-down idol – god-like still,

a shrine abandoned, yet a shrine.

 

by Михаил Юрьевич Лермонтов (Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov)

(1837)

translated by Avril Pyman

Everything’s Changed, Nothing Has Changed by Georgy Ivanov

Everything’s changed, nothing has changed

in the strange chill, strange chill of dawn.

I’ve dreamed many dreams over the years

and now I awake – with the years all gone.

 

Here we go, here I stand in an autumn field

(changed, unchanged, I don’t understand) –

as if I’ve been given my freedom

and my last hope has been torn from my hand.

 

by Георгий Владимирович Иванов (Georgii Vladimirovich Ivanov)

a.k.a. Georgy Ivanov

(1944-5)

translated by Robert Chandler

‘Moscow Who Are You?’ by Velimir Khlebnikov

Moscow, who are you?

Enchantress or enchanted?

Forger of freedom

or fettered lady?

What thought furrows your brow

as you plot your worldwide plot?

Are you a shining window

into another age?

O Moscow, are you femme fatale

or fetter-fated,

fated or fêted?

Does scholarship decree

your crucifixion

beneath the razorblades of clever scholars

frozen over an old book

as pupils stand around their desk?

O daughter of other centuries,

powder keg,

explosion of your fetters.

 

by Велимир Хлебников (Velimir Khlebnikov)

a.k.a. Виктор Владимирович Хлебников

(Viktor Vladimirovich Khlebnikov)

(1921)

translated by Robert Chandler

Wenglish Post Challenge

So, like, ayes been challenged to write a blog entirely in ‘Wenglish’ innit? There I am minding my own business when suddenly sum-one’s all like ‘Oh go on – writes us a post in Wenglish innit? It be funny like, not like in “being funny” like someone’s ‘aving a pout but like “funny funny” like your ‘avin’ a laff yeh? I turns round to ‘er and I tells ‘er ‘Oh what you think I is? Some sort of bloody wind-up toy munkee is it? I gotta life too you know!’ An’ then she’s all like ‘alright calm down! Well you dunno if you don’ try innit butt?’ So alright then… let’s ‘ave a go an’ see what ‘appens then is it? All off the top of my head this is so don’t give me no jip cuz of it…

What’s Wenglish? English/Welsh dialect innit?

Welsh English, Anglo-Welsh, or Wenglish refers to the dialects of English spoken in Wales by Welsh people. The dialects are significantly influenced by Welsh grammar and often include words derived from Welsh. In addition to the distinctive words and grammar, there is a variety of accents found across Wales from the Cardiff dialect to that of the South Wales Valleys and to West Wales.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Welsh_English

An’ this is a site all bout it too. Blokes made a livin’ out of it n all too: http://talktidy.com/


Day Inna Life Of A Tidy Welsh Bloke As ‘e Sees it In ‘is Own Words An’ All That Like.

Right then, it’s like this it is start of the day. There I was like walking down the road when a bloody great big bugger of a ‘roid ‘ead comes stropping towards me all casual givin’ me a funny look.
‘oh’ I said ‘oo you think you is butt?’ an’ ‘e was all ‘Nun a your fuhkin’ bizniz oo aye am you smelly dick. You startin’ sumfing? You need to man up you header! Don’t you even fuckin’ try it mate! End of!’
‘Oi mun!’ I shout, ‘Pissy pants, come over here you cocky little shit’ I said, ‘cuz you don’t come round ‘ere flapping your chops like that an’ get away with it I can tell you that now!’
He starts walkin’ away like ‘e owns the place! Cheeky fuhk…
‘Oi’ I said ‘you’re not down Llanelli here now butt, we’re not all slappers, piss-‘eads and roiders all on the dole round ‘ere like you. ‘This ‘eres Brid-end like’, I warned ‘im, ‘You got to take responsibility for what you just gone and said to me!’
Well ‘e didn’t like it did ‘e? Didn’t like it at all…
So there was a ruck course and a few cheeky slaps but in the end I gave ‘im a good hidin’. An’, I’m not lying, that bast’add was built like a brick shit house but I could ‘ave ‘im cuz roiders are all trouser no balls. Fuhkin’ roider I tell you…
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a police bloke comes running down the road shoutin’ at us ‘Oh! Oh! The fucks goin’ on ‘ere then boys?!’
We both dun a runner like and that was that.

Next thing I’m over by the Rec an’, no joke, I’m lookin’ at the river when a bloody fuckin’ old slag bollock naked of all things comes out the pissin’water! What the fuhks she doin’ there like I ask myself?
‘Oh luv’, I shout at ‘er, ‘put your bloody tits away for God’s sakes! No one wants ta see tha’!’
Well, she just looked at me with a face like a slapped arse don’t she?
‘Oh luv I don’t care if you duss put your bra on one cup at a time like the rest of us!’ I tells ‘er, ‘I’m not being funny… but you’re a bloody state luv, look at yerself!”
Then you know what the bint bloody went and did? You know she just ups and pisses off like she got a rocket up ‘er arse runnin’ stark bloody naked into tha bushes an’ disappears and I’m left stood there like a bloody lemon an’ ‘aven’t a clue what the fuhk waz goin’ on just now… it waz random like no lie…

Then later I’m out in the night and some fat bint waddles ova ta me pissed out of ‘er brains and is all like ‘oh let’s ‘ave a cwtch is it luvly?’
‘Oh piss off’, I sez, I gotta missus an’ you look like shit to be honest‘.
‘But you knows ahm funkin’ gwjuss an up for it’ ‘n’ like it don’t matter if she dunno cuz it’s only a bit of fun like’
‘Christ almighty’ some bloke passing sez before he goes chuckin’ ‘is guts up after lookin’ at ‘er, ‘she looks ruff as fuhkin’ ‘ell there butt’.
So then she’s tryin’ to lead me round sum dark corner round tha back o tha pub furra shag and aye makes my excuses there an’ then like don’t i? I tells ‘er ‘Oh yeh you goes right ahead, gotta go take a piss a sec be there right now in a minute.
Well I won’t lie it’s not like it’s the first time that day is it I ‘ad to do a runner? I’m not twp. Wouldn’t even have touched ‘er with a barge pole if I ‘ad to double bag it you know what I means like? Dirty she was.

Was a right laff when I told the boys after.

Then I gets home completely blotto and hasta hav’ a kip obvs like. Ruff as fuhk I was the next morning, no lie, so aye ‘as another nap after I gone makin’ myself a chip buttie. Prawpa bluddy luvly it was ‘n’ all. Then the boys cum round half three an’ we’re watchin’ the rugby like cuz like it’s Sunday… an tha’s what you dus on a Sunday innit? Not’ing else to do then is there? So we all piss off down the local pub for a couple. Bloody packed in there it was… like sardines we was. Brilliant bit of atmosphere an’…fuhkin’ ‘ell… I tell you now, the way those boys ‘andled the ball you’d think it was a babe fresh baked out their missus’ downstairs honest! ‘Come on lads’ we’re shoutin’ at the screen, cuz you ‘ave to don’t you? Give ‘em a bit of encouragement! No lie, think one of the boys started wellin’ up, it was such a bute of a game, the soppy bugger, but then you knows the women aint watchin’ for the game like but just so they can imagine wrappin’ themselves round those boys thighs innit? Filthy cows… Getting’ down ‘n’ dirty with them an’ wannabe rugger versions of those bloody footy WAGs that ar’ always in da papers. Dirty slappers gittin’ moist just standin’ there while serious business is goin’ on on the pitch on the tele… Might scrub up tidy but they got another thing comin’ if they think they got a chance with the lads there tho. Even if they did they’d be in for a shock. Thighs like tree trunks, cocks like pencils, is what I ‘ear… not that I ever want to know stuff like that but you know what with banter ‘n’ goss n all tha’ you find out these things don’t you? Happy days like it was.

But that’s enough o’ tha now innit? Can’t chops all day cuz aye got other things to be doing course. Can’t be helped.


So That’s that then. Not me sayin’ it like just some made up character ‘n’ that. Pwper tidy bloke ‘e is ‘n’ all.

“Oh, where’s the reviews of these films then you keep promising? You keep on about them like a nag all the time an’ ‘aven’t shown nuthin’ for it…”

Calm down for God’s sakes mun! It’s bluddy cummin’ just hold your horses and wait a second it’ll be here in a minute…

Oh yeh and befores I forgets here’s wassaface who sed ava go doin’ this Wenlgish post.

https://annawwalii.wordpress.com/ – Which is all in Polish and kept up to date and then you got https://annainwales.wordpress.com/ which is all in English but she don’t keep that last one up to date cuz “effort” she sez ‘n’ all that. Needs to get a grip ‘n’ sort herself out sharpish mun! Got one post from 13 November 2013 where she posted a part one and there’s still no part two to it all this time later now! Got two blogs ‘n’ all she has! The greedy bugger… an’ there’s even more she got like a Polish language ‘travel guide to Welsh places’ http://walijskiewedrowanie.wordpress.com/ and a photography site and… and… well… it’s just takin’ the piss now isn’t it? But there you goes… that should be more than enough of a plug for her stuff now. Cheeky mare…

Only jokin’ like! Got to laff ‘aven’t you? Life wouldn’t be worth livin’ if you didn’ yeh? It’s Welsh humour like, bit of banter (whether you like or not)… not a good un if you don’t take it on the chin and ‘ave a laff at ‘urself… but yeh like I waz sayin’ got go sort out those film blog entries and post them in the next few days. Honest…

Merry Christmas in a few languages

English: Merry Christmas

Welsh: Nadolig Llawen

Russian: Счастливого Pождества! (с рождеством being the more informal version)

Japanese: メリークリスマス

Polish: Wesołych Świąt

Christmas time is not one for me. It is a time for children and those who have others to share it with. To me it is the days of film repeats and being told how I am not part of the greater society. I worked Christmas Eve so I had no ‘run up’ to the celebration and it will pass like an anomaly.

During the Victorian times, when many of the Christmas traditions were first created or at least solidified as Christmas specific traditions (tree, cards, stockings hanging, decorations, caroling, mistletoe, etc), it was common to tell ghost stories and go for a walk after the dinner. Hence why Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol featuring the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. I think going for a walk in the fresh air would be a good thing to bring back as it seems people just hole up in their houses for the next few days rather than enjoy the Winter weather.