Cymru am Byth. It’s St David’s Day and on this date I always feel a bit of my Welsh heritage nudging me. My Welshness is probably on a level with that of my great poetic hero Edward Thomas, Welsh parents but brought up in London. If only I had his genius.
It manifested itself to me as a child in various low-key ways. Watching rugby rather than football on the TV. Feeling a kinship with Welsh actors in films. Having a genetic disposition to love Welsh choir music; the Treorchy Male Voice Choir was on repeat in our west London house on Sunday mornings. My lovely, troubled Dad who never lost the Welsh cadence to his voice, I celebrate his sensitivity and the love of reading which he gave to all his children.
His story of St David’s Day was going to school in Ferndale wearing a leek [he was born in 1909] and having eaten it by lunchtime. Nothing hungrier than a ten year old.
In March I’m hoping for some bardic spirit to infuse me as I carry on with thinking and writing for the next poetry collection. I’m hoping for the inspiration of Dylan, Edward, R.S [all the Thomases] to help me on my way.
