Before you all disappear for the Christmas holiday .....

Write. Right?

Redstar on Aviary   

I am working on a novel, with the title of 'Red Emeralds'. This has made me think of how privileged we, in the  Western World are, to be able to read and write. Thanks to the Education Act of 1870, ordinary people have been able to enjoy books and to write them.

I am glad that I began reading  Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, D H Lawrence and George Elliott in my teens and twenties because the enjoyment has lasted throughout my life. What I am finding now, though, is that I look out for diaries written by ordinary people, such as 'Housewife 47', written during World War 11 and the 'Red Leather Diary', written by a teenage girl in the early part of the twentieth century.

I sometimes give talks to womens' groups, very often in rural areas. After I've spoken, almost every time, someone will ask if it is necessary to have formal qualifications before you can write.

I always say the good thing about writing is, anyone can do it. All that is required is the need to put something down on paper.

In the  'Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner', the sailor stopped 'one of three', because he had a compulsion to tell his tale. Similarly, a writer must want to make someone listen to the story.

The need to write can be so great in some writers, that it does not matter whether anyone wants to read their work or not. (Diarists write only for themselves, not wishing to reveal their thoughts).

It is often said you should write about only what you know. I believe this to be a form of tautology, because most people cannot write about what they haven't experienced.

Good writing is about sharing a universal experience and making it recognisable. Shakespeare is a genius because of this. Here is one of my favourite quotes, taken from Antony and Cleopatra:

'To business that we love we rise betime
And go to't with delight'.

Caerfyrddin

 NYCPrism on Aviary

I've been shopping in Carmarthen. The new town centre has all the big name stores and business is brisk.

Gone is the old market, open twice a week only, but occupying a valuable trading space. A new, slimline version of the market, clean and bright and open every day, is proving popular with shoppers.

In  Carmarthen, the old co-exists easily alongside the new. There are good antique shops in the town and a second hand book shop, if you like rare  books and out-of-print editions. There is a council run  art gallery and a shop where love spoons, jewelley, silk painted scarves, pottery and paintings give people looking for something individual the chance to browse.

For more than sixty years the Will Davy Rees family has traded in the town, supplying butter, eggs and bacon. Close to the new market, an enterprising  fishmonger has a license to serve drinks and fishy delicacies to customers.

Once a week there is a 'street market', with plants and  herbs for sale and stalls with jams and chutneys. Locally reared meat and sausages are available, also.

The town is not short of good places to eat, either. The 'Waverley'  restaurant offers vegetarian food of a high standard and the 'Ivy Bush' a more substantial meal.

Welsh can be heard everywhere in the town. Before the new development, Welsh language  programmes debated whether the ethos of the town would be destroyed with  the closure of the market, as though the language would die without the market. I am glad to say, the language is robust as ever.

Unconsidered Trifles

We went to Narberth on Saturday.  So did a lot of other shoppers. There was the added bonus of a craft fair, too.  The shops were so crowded, Peter waited outside most of them.

Narberth is a jewel of a town,  transformed in the last twenty or so years by little boutique shops, all privately owned.

'The Maltings' an antique emporium, exotic as any souk, is one of my favourite goody-bag places. It is large and rambling, but encloses small shop units, all displaying different things.

My Melyn Tregwynt blankets are from here, one in blue, one in a purple, pink and black pattern. I am looking for a red one next. I have bought cotton, crochet-edged sheets for the bed, and abundant teacloths and tray cloths in fine needlework.

Hats, bags, teasets, Sir Kyffin Williams paintings, furs, easy chairs and a whole kaleidoscope of treasures all await the enthusiatic shopper.

Athough the 'Maltings' was full, I found a  unit with no-one browsing, so I went in. Alas and alack, (I don't mean to sound like Dame Trot from the rhyme), I was immediately followed by a family of four adults.

Comfortably, there was room for two people. I decided on my exit strategy, which involvied a tight right turn and  straight out. I glanced, only glanced, at the handbags and the family followed me, going through the bags with intense interest. There were three other corners in the room, and I'm sure if I had gone to them, they would have followed.

I've seen this phenomenon many times, people developing an interest in what someone else is looking at.

I was in a Carmarthen store one day, reaching for a pot of jam, and a woman put her head under my arm to get something from the shelf.

Saccharine sweetly, I said:  'I'm so sorry. I would have moved if I'd realised.'
'Don't move. I've got it now' she replied quite insouciantly.

If I only hesitate to look at something in a shop window, people gather round and stare at it with interest.
There must be a label for this psychological condition: 'annoying fellow shoppers syndrome', comes to mind.

Enough was more than sufficient. Narberth was too busy for us. We decided to come back mid-week but the question is, what makes this little town so successful?

It helps that it looks like something out of Enid Blyton's Toytown. (Noddy and Big Ears might just go by in their car with the 'parpy' horn.)

There are little tea-rooms,  a surf shop, three art galleries, a newspaper shop, a hairstylist a chemist, a Clock Tower with a shop, a bargain box shop, three shoe shops, three grocers. Magical.

'To think there's this place, in the back of beyond, with all these goodies', one shopper from Cardiff said.
Well, get down here quickly for your Christmas gifts, I say.

The 'Snow Queen' and her carnival will drive by one night in December. Mulled wine and a mince pie, anyone?

The Great Divide

Starry_Night_by RavenMadd & AlphaWolf on Aviary

A twelfth century time traveller would have no difficulty in recognising present day Haverfordwest.

Approaching the town from the east,  the outlines of the churches of St Thomas a Becket, St Mary's and  the spire of St Martin's together with that of  the Norman castle dominate the horizon, a perpetual testament to the skill of the medieval stone-masons' craft.

'To Haverfordwest, from the earliest period, there was a degree of consequence attached', wrote Fenton, the Fishguard historian.

Romans, Scandinavians and warring Norsemen came to this part of Pembrokeshire from the fourth century onwards. A small town developed, in response to the need for protection and to establsih a centre of trade.

Following the Battle of Hastings, the Normans established their control over this country and over Pembrokeshire.

It was the military, occupying presence of the Normans that brought about the most profound changes to the life of the town.

Pembrokeshire was carved in two, the northern area governed by Martin de Tours and the south of the county by the ruthless Arnulph de Montgomery.

Of the de Montgomery  family, Henry of Huntingdon wrote: 'Their sins were enough to frighten the devils themselves'.

The Welsh in the southern part of the county sought sanctuary in the Preseli Mountains, becoming refugees in their own land, the king displaying an arrogant disregard for their needs.

De Montgomery was allowed to keep his ill-gotten gains and populate the southern areas with English settlers.

The Normans were brilliant strategists, consolidating their victory and forcing the Welsh to remain in the north of the county. Soon, a line of Norman castles scarred the landscape, effectively separating the north from the south.

Castles were built in Laugharne, Narberth, Wiston, Haverfordwest, Camrose and Roch, Carew and Pembroke, ruled by Norman barons.

Psychologically and linguistically, they created a divide that became known as the Landsker line. Those living in North Pembrokeshire spoke Welsh and those in the south, English.

Haverfordwest Castle is a prime example of eleventh century European military architecture, and was an important garrison in the line of defence.

For the Welsh, these castles became a hated symbol of subjugation, a constant reminder of an alien military force.

A potent reminder of their legacy is that south Pembrokeshire is become known as 'Little England Beyond Wales', the inhabitants mainly speaking English. In the north of Pembrokeshire, Welsh is an important part of everyday life.

Thus, the legacy of the Normans lives on.