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.

The hand that rocks the cradle

Motherhood began for me when I was twenty one. I'm now sixty eight and I'm still involved with my children and grandchildren.
I worked in the Civil Service for a number of years but my ambition was to have a family. I had a vague idea that when they were older, I might work part time, but a job would have to be secondary to my family.

My elder daughter was born in 1964, a significant date, when life was changing for women. Automatic washing machines, frozen food, central heating and what was known as the 'pill' had all made their arrival, making life easier and changing social attitudes, too.

During the late 1940's men returning from the war were given prioroty for available jobs. Married women teachers were not employed by many authorities in Wales.
Women were not perceived as having the right to work or their own income. They were the responsibility of their husbands.  Highly qualified professional women, such as doctors and solicitors, were not frowned on in quite the same way if they worked, whether they had children or not.

During the sixties, Marry Quant, the Beatles and the mini burst upon the scene. Suddenly, youth culture was discovered.

By the seventies, the world had changed. It became socially acceptable for mothers to have a job if the necessary child care provision was available.

I've been reading 'How Does She Do It?' a book about a 'superwoman' fund manager who worked all hours of the day, plus giving birth to four children in rapid succession. (What was she wanting to prove?)

My opinion is you cannot have children and a demanding job. This fund manager learnt this truth a little too late to be home with the elder three but, after the Twin Towers disaster, when she was in New York, she resigned her job.

Why do we admire women like this ? (I don't, as it happens).
Why do these women bother to have children if they don't spend any time with them?
Once you have a child, your world changes. If you're not prepared for this, don't have a family.

The family of the woman on whom the book was based are now in boarding school. Far better to delay the career until you have time for it, because putting the children on hold is not going to work.
I think women now are able to combine work and family in ways they weren't previously, but if you want to be 'Superwoman', think carefully.

The Wild West

Off to Tenby

Peter and I were in Fishguard today. Peter and I were the only shopperes in Fishguard today. (I use the term 'shoppers' loosely, because there are hardly any shops in the town and there were hardly any open today).

Peter bought a tube of gel in the Pharmacy because he had scratched his gum on a hand-sliced, pan-fried, sea-salted, vacuum-packed crisp. I bought Chaucer's 'The Wife of Bath's Tale' in a charity shop for forty pence, so we were happy.

We should have arrived on horseback, two strangers reining in their  horses roughly before narrowing their eyes against the dust, scanning the  horizon.  But as this wasn't 'High Noon' we'd come by car, Peter driving as he likes to do.

We saw a funeral in the distance, just like in a cowboy film, but there were few mourners, so there was plenty of room in the car park.

Thirty pence was cheap for two hours parking, but I thought we should have been paid for coming and encouraged to make the thirty mile round trip again. The town needs as many shoppers as it can get.

We walked around the deserted streets, Peter saying 'It's like a ghost town. Why?'

Pembrokeshire relies heavily on tourism, but this year the hotels have suffered, with holidaymakers staying in caravans and self-catering establishments. Despite Tenby being a Georgian gem of a town and having had four television programmes devoted to it, the hotels are only half-full. 

Tenby's coastline can rival Italy's Amalfi Coast and though the boat does not leave for Capri, it goes to Caldy Island when the weather is fine.
Pembrokeshire has many attractions:  each year there is a 'Fish Week' and a County Show, plus Classic Car rallies and Tractor Rallies. Pleasure flights leave Withybush Aerodrome and are popular. So it's not for lack of trying that tourism is suffering.

A report suggests that European funding has not done a great deal for Wales. This country, like Malta, Spain, two regions of Portugal and four in southern Italy, has suffered a drop in relative prosperity during the past decade.

I have just eaten a pot of 'Rachel's Organic Yoghurt', gooseberry flavoured and produced in mid-Wales. An enterprising farmer's wife created the brand one winter when the milk tanker failed to get through the snow to collect the milk. 'Rachel's Dairy' is now a top brand. What we need is creative thinking like this if we are not to become the 'poor man' of Europe. Enterprise will assure our places at the top table.

Living and Partly Living

Redstar on Aviary

A neighbour stopped to talk to me today when I was in the garden gouging out some difficult weeds. She and her husband lead active lives and so I was surprised when she said she was lonely.
'Oh, I see and talk to people all the time', she said, 'but I have an aching emptiness inside'.

A report says that the natural state of humans is to be asleep most of the time. We should only wake long enough to find some food to enable us to go back to sleep again.  (That should please those who would like extra 'duvet' days). 

Since we don't live our lives like this, we have to acknowledge that loneliness is a problem that affects all ages and thugh we have sophisticated means of communication, human contact is essential if we are to feel involved with what is going on around us.

Apparently, those who live within a fifty mile radius of where they were born have better mental health than people settling in a strange place. Being able to visit family  often makes for happiness.

I was born in a farming community and though I moved away, (fifty miles), I was not living in a totally different environment and I was with people who spoke Welsh and English. 

T.S.Eliot said,'Hell is oneself/ Hell is alone'; that is assuming one does not like being alone.
The retirement age, is moving towards the late sixties but this might not be a bad  thing. Some studies suggest that giving up work is not always a blessing because, for many, it  results in a diminishing social circle. Work is not just about money, it is about friendships, self-worth and image, too.

Years ago, when there were less labour-saving devices there was not the time to be introspective. Leisure a chance to rest, rather than a time of feeling lonely.

Perhaps, to solve this problem of loneliness,  we shall have to  redefine our lives and challenge ourselves in different ways to create meaning in what we do.

Dandelion

 In Welsh a tooth is called a 'dant'.  In French, the word 'dandelion' means the tooth of the lion, so we have a descriptive word tripping off the tongue plus cross cultural pollination.

 A word I am very fond of is 'toothsome', suggesting as it does something tasty, acceptable to the teeth.
Unfortunately, I had to have a corker of a molar, complete with abscess, removed recently and 'toothsome' assumed another meaning.  All is well now and fortunately, I do not have to suffer the discomforts of false teeth.

 Admittedly, false teeth and dentistry have vastly improved over the last fifty years or so and now tooth implants are available, which are imperceptible from one's own teeth.

 During the 1950's, when I grew up, it was the custom for the less well off to have their teeth taken out as a right-of-passage. Ghoulish in the extreme to look forward to having bare gums as a twenty first birthday present.
Cosmetically, the side effects of this were that the cheeks sunk, giving a pinched look and the chin and nose almost joined with some people.

Practically, meals were difficult. Many people could not eat with their teeth in; chewing was difficult and when the plastic mould covered the hard palate, food could not be tasted.

During the 1940's a common pain killer for toothache was a clove jammed into the painful tooth. How effective it was at relieving pain is questionable but it was a home-spun remedy.

Archaeologists have discovered a body in Mexico believed to be four thousand five hundred years old. The corpse appears to be fitted with a set of false teeth.  It is often thought that more primitive people ate less sugar so therefore had less tooth decay, but teeth can wear away and break due to gum disease.

Seven hundred years BC, the Etruscan civilisation in Northern Italy produced sophisticated false teeth,  made from ivory and bone, mounted onto gold bridges.

 By 1538 the Japanese were continuing the search for acceptable false teeth but it was 1774 before porcelain was used in the manufacture of dentures.

The C18th saw an increase in the consumption of sugar by the middle classes to wide spread tooth decay.
Teeth from soldiers slayed on the battle field during the American Civil War teeth were sold in Europe to satisfy the demand for false teeth.

George Washington, the American President is popularly believed to have had a wooden set of false teeth but this is highly unlikely -elephant tusks, mother of pearl  and ivory were most probably used.

I have an image of an old man eating an apple when I was a child. (What joy to bite into an apple and smell its greenness, feel the crispness of the fruit on your tongue).

He had his own teeth and a strong white moustache.  As he ate a fine cloud of apple, shredded by his moustache, landed on his lap. (Fascinating to watch).

This reminds me of the Justices in Henry 1V Part 2, sitting in a Gloucestershire garden, enjoying a pippin. Evidently, they retained their own teeth.

I used to believe that the first sign of old age comes when you have to cut an apple into fine slices before eating. I still think I'm right.