Singing In Tongues

The toll bridge over the Mawddach estuary

Earlier this month I dipped my toe in the proverbial waters of a Welsh tradition called Plygain (pronounced Plug-aye-n). Every January around these parts, certain churches open their doors for a special evening service of unaccompanied singing.

The songs are old Christian carols, written in Welsh and performed in Welsh (Cymraeg, pronounced Cum-r-aye-g). The whole service is entirely in Cymraeg. The participants tend to be first-language Cymraeg speakers. The only reason I was there is that I attend one of the churches that hosts an annual Plygain service, and as a congregation we decided to put a small choir together and join in.

An inscription on our woodstore

By the time we'd got our act together and decided to do it, we only had about ten days left. We quickly scheduled some rehearsals. Hardly any of us speak Cymraeg to any great degree so we relied heavily on Roland the vicar (who can) for how to pronounce the lyrics of the two carols we chose. Fortunately a few of us knew something about singing and could read music so we were able to fit the four parts (soprano, alto, tenor and bass) together by the end of the first rehearsal. I was singing bass with Roland and a local farmer we'd drafted in. We were the weakest link. I realised that I had never actually sung in a choir before - and now I was doing it in Cymraeg before an entirely Cymraeg-speaking audience.

On the night Anna and I rushed to be there on time, she had to leave early from work in Aberystwyth. I was playing the organ too for a couple of congregrational hymns at the start so had to be prompt. Then the Plygain was declared open. There is no compere at a Plygain. Groups or individuals just get up as they feel appropriate, go to the front and launch in. However since we were the host congregation, we got to go first. Lucky us!

Some of my produce for the veg box scheme last year

It wasn't terrible. Neither do I feel we did ourselves justice. But we got through our song and sat down. No one applauds, or even smiles. This is a serious event. About thirteen acts followed, some of them absolutely beautiful. A half-time congregational hymn, then we all went again in the same order but with our second carols. No song can be repeated, even by a different group. If someone else sings your carol before you get to sing it, you have to sing a back-up one.

The finale was all the men in the church (including me) going to the front and singing a carol out to the women. I had no idea of the tune or what the words meant, but at least I had a lyrics sheet so I could mouth along. Which I had to do because I was in the middle on the front row.

It was a fascinating insight into a part of the local culture which is normally a closed book to the English. By this time next year my Cymraeg might actually have improved enough that I know (roughly) what I'm singing about!

A bean burger from an Edible Mach cooking workshop

R.I.P. Jimny

Jimny in 2013

 Those of you with long and sure memories might be able to recall an event five years ago which I committed to blogprint here. It was the purchase of my first car, a red Suzuki Jimny. Even then it was twelve years old but to me it seemed brand new. Everything about this 4WD worked well. It performed its principle function admirably - to tow my caravan from Devon to Wales and then down the steep and narrow track onto my land. 

Arriving onto my land

It has since been invaluable for bringing many trailer-loads of manure down that track onto my land, and taking many crates of fresh produce up that track off my land. Not to mention all the trailer-loads of felled wood going down and chopped and seasoned firewood going up. Its four-wheel drive let me leap up the slippery muddy slope with a careless laugh.

Sadly the years and the rain and mud have taken their toll on this fine workhorse. Last year I had to spend hundreds to get it through the MOT, with hours of welding required to patch up the rust which was spreading like a cancer through the chassis. This week it failed its MOT for that rust has continued to spread. You can see the road through holes under the back seat. Every wheel arch needs work. Last year's welding work would need to be removed and a whole week's worth of welding done. That's not counting the other failures - exhaust leaks, emissions breaking legal limits and an axle apparently a bit loose.

So it's time to say goodbye to my Jimny. A couple of people have said they'll take it off my hands. We still have Anna's little Hyundai to get to the land from town but we have to park at the top and walk down.

I'm in the market for another 4x4. I'll need it for this year's growing season. It can't be too pricey since market gardening is sadly not a rich man's game. Main criterion: no rust. Any tips you might have on buying such a vehicle, send my way!

He's Back... And This Time It's Circinal*

It's been nearly six months! How've y'all been? 

Yes I stepped out of the blogosphere (is it really spherical?) end of last July for a well-earned break. Every week for the previous five years and then some, I'd been publishing a piece of my mind online to, it has to be said, almost overwhelming apathy. There are approximately 3 billion internet users and I only got 115,684 page views of my 282 posts across the two blogs, an average of 410 views per post. So if that's 410 different people, only 0.00000014% of the web-connected population have bothered to turn up at my blog-door at all. I missed my 50% target by some margin.

We built a wood-store

Still I am of course quite astounded that even 410 of you found the time to click by and at least check out the pictures, if not read the actual words. I did of course really enjoy the exercise, it kept my creative juices squirting and meant I was connected at least a little bit to the outside world. 

So now it's a shiny new year and time for a sparkly new blog. Whether I'll be quite as monotonously regular as before remains to be seen. What do you think of the new blog name? I know I know, it's not going to set the world alight. And yes I've been in Wales since 2013. But this time, I'm really in Wales. I haven't migrated south to Dorset for the winter. I'm still here. Full time. In it for the long haul. I've even learning Welsh. Sorry Wales, you've got to put up with me for a while longer.

And what have you missed these last few months while I've been living my life below the blog-radar? Well, there's the small matter of.... GETTING ENGAGED!

Yes indeedy, a young woman named Anna has fallen prey to my debatable charms and somehow been hoodwinked into agreeing to marry me. The deed itself is expected to occur in the not-too-distant future but a shroud of mystery currently hangs over where and exactly when.  More may be revealed in due course. 

Having blown my good news too early in this post, all it remains for me to add is that we are still living in the same place in Machynlleth, the autumn winds have ripped my caravan awning to bits, the December snow brought my garden fence & net down, our good friend Roland the vicar has been moved to Blaenau Ffestiniog by the bishop leaving us both bereft, and Anna has just bought me a very decent pair of new hiking boots. See you next week. 

*Circinal:

1. (botany) circinate; coiled from the apex towards the base