NEWS FROM BODYFUDDAU

Hopefully updated fairly regularly for anyone who wants to  keep an eye on the place and its inhabitants

As time goes on the newest entry will always be at the top so one has to read backwards for chronology. How's that for odd?

For more pictures from Bodyfuddau over the years click here  

Feb 6th

I'm afraid I have been neglecting this but I have a good excuse. My old windows 98 died and I couldn't go on line from this computer. So Julian and Twm built me another and better one. Trouble was that, while we were waiting for various parts to arrive, I couldn't use my web editor or several other essentials on the laptop.

Now all is well and everything is installed on both computers. This means not only that I can get back here, but also that I can get on with my publishing activities. I've decided I have had enough of handmaking books that need sewing and sricking etc. So I have been looking into printing costs and found that colour is exorbitantly expensive and would make And Thereby Hangs a Tail quite uneconomic for people to buy. So I have been experimenting with greyscale and, to my surprise, the illustrations look quite nice in it.

The other complication to getting it printed was that the printers require pdf files  [something I've always been scared of and regarded as incomprehensible] so I have had to take the plunge and buy a programme to make such files. Another unwelcome learning curve and I think I am still in the shallow water.

However the black and white version of the book is proceding quite well. I hope to goodness I don't finish the whole thing and find I've done it all wrong. There is talk about embedding text and resolution of pictures - none of which I understand in the least. I am quite relieved to find that the programme works quite like Publisher in some ways. For instance one can resize pictures on the page.

Here is a sample of the illustrations in greyscale

Nov 24

Jess feels a bit left out so here is a picture of her

first thing in the morning, the only time she smiles.

Believe me this is a smile not a snarl.

Below -- play time.

Nov 21

An update on my sheepdog training. Dyfi has been with me over a year now and he has at last learnt enough to be trusted off the lead with the sheep. Now that the grass has stopped growing, the sheep get hay and sheep musesli every morning. Dyfi waits impatiently at the gate

Then we go into the pig sty and he guards the entrance while I dish up breakfast.

The sheep wait outside behaving themselves until we leave. Felix is a bit naughty and sometimes thumps Dyfi on his nose so it is a sort of stand off but Dyfi behaves perfectly. I'm very proud of him and he loves getting his praise each morning after the operation is complete.

November  11

Armistice day and we are still playing war games, albeit now as part of the American Empire rather than the British Empire. At this time of the year I wear a white poppy, not out of disrespect for our fallen soldiers but out of conviction that the best way to respect their sacrifice is to try to dilute wherever possible mankind's addiction to warfare. These days more civilians are killed than soldiers as armaments get more and more vicious and more and more remote from those that use them. Wilfred Owen met his enemy after death but he had already met him face to face. These days he would probably have dealt out death from above or from a distance, and been killed also by a bomb or a bullet from the shadows.

I remember back in the days of the war in Vietnam when CND was diverted largely from just nuclear weaponry to opposition to the war, a south African friend with a couple of his mates, wearing their poppies but carrying a small CND sign , went to stand in silence at the war memorial with everyone else for the memorial ceremony in Exeter. They were removed by the police.

STRANGE MEETING

 It seemed that out of the battle I escaped

 Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped

 Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.

 Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,

 Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.

 Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared

 With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,

 Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.

 And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall;

 With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;

 Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,

 And no guns thumped, or down the flies made moan.

 "Strange, friend," I said, "Here is no cause to mourn."

 "None," said the other, "Save the undone years,

 The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,

 Was my life also; I went hunting wild

 After the wildest beauty in the world,

 Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,

 But mocks the steady running of the hour,

 And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.

 For by my glee might many men have laughed,

 And of my weeping something has been left,

 Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,

 The pity of war, the pity war distilled.

 Now men will go content with what we spoiled.

 Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.

 They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,

 None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.

 Courage was mine, and I had mystery;

 Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery;

 To miss the march of this retreating world

 Into vain citadels that are not walled.

 Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels

 I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,

 Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.

 I would have poured my spirit without stint

 But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.

 Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

 I am the enemy you killed, my friend.

 I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned

 Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.

 I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.

Let us sleep now ...

DULCE ET DECORUM EST   Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys - An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. -

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

-----

COLLATERAL DAMAGE        [This one is mine]

Up and up to the high pasture,

a barefoot child of six or so, along

the track, skipping as she goes,

and singing a green song.

Bringing bread and cheese and water

for the old man where he waits,

not for the food, though man must eat,

but for the child, the one granddaughter,

only child of the son he will see no more,

fallen far away in someone else’s war.

She rounds the rocks and comes again,

as she comes each day, singing still,

to the open pasture that waits for rain.

Death comes unannounced

in one loud scream.

Then a receding roar, an empty sky,

nothing but echoing silence, crying

‘Why, oh why?’

Of his flock a few stand dazed

among the dying and the dead.

He lies spread-eagled on the grass,

sightless eyes, a stream of blood

trickling  under the broken head.

Soon will be rain, the grass will green,

the lambs will come, the fields be tilled.

Men will return that have not been killed,

but nothing will fill that empty space

where a child is singing a broken song

for all the things that might have been.

November 10

Annual harvest party at Llan Farm with Julian and Oli and family and friends. This event takes place each year, not so much when the harvest is in [that is mostly hay and silage anyway] but when the cows are waiting to come in for the winter. The party takes place in one of the cow sheds and, the other one being full of landrovers in various states of re assembly, the other one needs to be used for the party before the bovine ladies come in.

Scrumptious food including barbecued lamb straight from the farm.

If anyone wants to sample Oli's delicious organic lamb and beef here is the link http://www.theorganiccoop.co.uk/producers_search.php?ao=phrase&search=Llan+Farm+meat

November 1

The exhibition is over and, I think, was a success Although artists mostly don't like doing sums so we tend to wait for our treasurer to add up and see how we did financially, it certainly had a lot of visitors and there was general agreement that the quality was probably even better than usual. From my point of view I didn't sell any paintings [only had two there anyway] but I did sell quite a lot of my books.

On the subject of selling; I have been doing very well in the Country Market that takes place every Thursday morning in Dolgellau Free Library, right underneath where we hold the exhibition. Recently I have been taking in a selection of previously exhibited paintings [at a reduced price] and have sold several and also several copies of books.

Jewelry has been going particularly well. It is purely serendipitous that as soon as I start making colourful pendants, that just happens to be what is now fashionable. Couldn't have arranged it better if I tried. My friend Valerie Land has an exhibition at present in the Silver Moon gallery in Porth Madog. There are some lovely paintings there and they can also be seen on line here http://www.saa.co.uk/art/valerieland/ArtistGallery.aspx?artistid=4100&galleryID=4565. Valeriis the chair person of Meirionnydd Artists Society and her cheerful energy seems to be stirring the society up to even greater efforts. You can see the society's website at http://www.black-butterfly.co.uk/index_mas.htm where it is hosted on Chrissy's Black Butterfly site. It is still quite small because the members tend to be more interested in painting than in suplying Chrissy with photos of their paintings but we are nagging them.

Well all that being sorted for now, I can get back to writing. Actually on that score the next thing I have to do is paint because The Little Horse That Learned to Fly is in need of illustrations. I did start to think about it last week and even started sketching but realised that the horse needs to go away from the reader's view and I had no idea how to draw a horse's behind. So yesterday I went to the farm of my friend Sue who has shetland ponies. At forst it was tricky as they insisted on facing me but as I was driving away past a field of them they didn't think the van was so interesting so I got a few rearviews from the van window.

October 23

Well, Meirionnydd Artists' annual exhibition has now been up and running for over a week and seems to be going smoothly. It's my job every year to organise it so October is always rather hectic. But all seems to have gone well. This year we have new screens, designed and manufactured by Rene, husband of Marion Telford, our publicity person. He should get a medal for them. They are not only more manageable than the old ones [very important as so many of us are getting older and more decrepit] but they look really classy and in my opinion show off the pictures much better.

This is our second exhibition this year as we decided to have both a summer one and an autumn one. The summer one was in Harlech in June and did better than any exhibition we've had there before. I think June is a good time of year for Harlech. The Dolgellau one we moved to October last year to coincide with Gwynedd Arts Week, whereupon Gwynedd decided not to have an arts week. So some local artists organised one themselves called CRYD [initials of between three rivers in Welsh] and that has now become quite well known and this year Gwynedd have resurrected their arts week so our publicity has improved a lot.

A few pictures below.

Glenys Lawson with the trophy. Her winning painting in the 'Horizons' competition is behind her on right of photo.

Marion with her 'people's favourite' winner -- to the left in photo

My only two pictures this year -- Fox    and Red Kite

As soon as the exhibition was up and running I returned to my jewelry making as I had not only the market, but orders to fulfil from the shop on the website.

This was largely thanks to Ukauthors http://www.ukauthors.com. Teifi's book got some nice publicity from the ukalive event and Freya, going there to get my poetry books, saw Denver's photo from ukalive reading and asked me where I got my necklace. I told her I'd made it and she suggested I should put the jewelry on the website. Big learning curve but did it and have so far sold four necklace and earring sets, two books and a picture. Thank you very much Freya for giving me the necessary push. Now I am looking at other various ways of promoting the shop. Because I publish my own, even though they have ISBNs, they don't appear on Amazon unless I sign up for some expensive monthly account.

One possibly useful strategy is to serialise And Thereby Hangs aTail in Writelink's blog competition. It has already been serialised in La Fenetre, courtesy of Deborah and Allen, and Allen has posted links to it on Deborah's guest book and in La Fenetre. Bless him.

September 22

Had a busy few weeks since the trip to London - French. Welsh, Russian all in the space of three weeks.. One week of French [returning learner from last year]. In between getting his head round French this young man kindly put all my French songs from old fashioned records onto my computer - something that I'd been trying to do for ages. I used to offer students tapes to play in their cars as this is a great way of using spare time for language learning and as songs are a very painless way of acquiring language and pronunciation. Recently there has been a tendency for this offer to be declined on the grounds that 'my car only plays CDs' so I am in great need of modernisation. Now having got the songs on the computer I need to learn how to get them onto CDs. For that matter, I also need to rediscover what he showed me about getting them onto the computer in the first place. Last week I was teaching Russian and tried to put my Russian records on there, only to disciover that I couldn't find the appropriate application. Time to call in the troops in the form of Julian and Twm.

Sirat has produced the CD of the Ukauthors do in London and it is also on Youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF00AbhiAX0 if you want to see me reading. Now there's a treat, I'm sure!

I have also been making jewelry for the local craft market and also for my website. If you want to see it, it is in the bookshop across in Merilang [my domain site] http://www.merilang.co.uk/gallery/books/shop.merilang.htm and click on the necklace below the books.

August 21st

In the end all went well in spite of the vagaries of the train system. So I got to London in good order and was met at the station by the friend with whom I stayed. We dined at the Lucas Arms and by the time people started arriving I was already well lubricated with wine and finally relaxed. It was a great evening and lovely to meet people with whose work I was familiar but whom I had never met. Listened to the first few readings and read some of mine but had to leave regretfully at nine [interval time] because, going on the theory of it being from 6 till 9, I had told my host I'd leave then so that he could meet me at the underground station and so prevent me from getting lost. I'm sure it went on quite late and I missed a lot so I am looking forward to Sirat's {David Gardiner's] DVD.

The next morning we got up at 6 and I went to the underground by taxi only to find it closed. Fortunately, although the notice said it opened at 10 am, a man arrived and opened it and showed me where there was a ticket machine. Great relief which was short lived. After a few stations the intercom announced, 'When we get to Archway this train will stay there for about an hour depending on what we find at Archway'. So I had to go an navigate the London bus system as far as Warren Street Underground station. That was 'closed for engineering' so I finished by walking all the way down Euston Road in the rain lugging my briefcase of books that I had totally forgotten to mention to anyone. Anyway, I did catch the train and got home to find no catastrophes and was ready to meet the gentleman who was arriving the same day to submit for a week to my French teaching slave driving techniques. If I go next year I shall make sure I have an extra day and can stay to the end of Ukalive and, hopefully, on the Monday find the Underground operational.

August 14th

No sign yet of the person who is supposed to look after my dogs etc while I make a rare excursion to London to put faces to manes at the Ukauthors' get-together. Rang the boss who was as surprised as me and finally rang back to say that the paperwork had not arrived in Harlech and everyone was booked up so he is coming in person from Shropshire. I wish going away was not so nerve-wracking. I worry so much that it hardly seems worth it.

July 30th

Having at last set up my web page for selling my books and also having actually done all the form filling etc for ISBNs, I celebrated my birthday by googling Daffni Percival for fun an in the hopes that the web page might come up. To my astonishment not only did that happen but also Sun on the Hill and And Thereby Hangs a Tail also came up in 'published this month' and several bookshop sites including one in Holland and one in Norway [if my linguistic instincts did not deceive me]. I was quite amused at this as in fact  all copies of the books, except those already sold locally, are in my hands and certainly not available in bookshops. However, it did make me feel I was really an author.

The down side is that as far as I can make out paypal isn't working on the site in spite of all the work I've put in trying to do it right. It doesn't respond to the continue shopping button. Back to the drawing board.

June 12th

I've just made my annual pilgrimage to Exeter to visit assorted friends from my past. Actually it has been two years this time because for most of that time I never managed to rustle up enough energy to organise a trip. I took the dogs with me as I couldn't afford a dog-sitter and anyway Dyfi is too much of a liability to leave with anyone. It was lovely catching up with old friends but I couldn't live in the city again. I'm sure it has grown but also I have become unacclimatised to city life. Give me my quiet fields full of sheep any time.

Just before I left the National Park people came and finished the gate so now there is a separate footpath going round the garden. This is an unbelievable luxury to me. I don't have to go out if the dogs bark unless it is prolonged and I suspect there is someone there for me. No more escorting people through or going outside only to find that Jess is exercising her imagination or barking at my neighbour in his own farmyard.

April 16th

To get back to the matter of publishing: I have my ISBN numbers and also I have finally managed a reasonably tidy printed and bound version of Teifi Dog's memoirs. The title is now 'And Thereby hangs a Tail' and my next job is to set up a page on this site as a book shop to sell my own publications. Fortunately I don't expect that to be nearly as steep a learning curve as the actual production of a book with several sections. I did think about getting it published by someone else but with all the illustrations [which are really essential] the cost would be prohibitive.

April 15th

I've been neglecting this blog along with most of my correspondence, I'm afraid. My time got totally taken over by the garden, not just because it's spring and sunshiny, but because the National Park gave me permission to move the footpath that has always run right past my front door. This has always meant going outside every time the dogs bark to escort people through or tell Jess to stop exercising her imagination or explain to both dogs that Gareth is entitled to use his own farmyard outside my gate.

I had already put up a strong fence at the edge of the garden to ensure that Dyfi Dog couldn't get out to chase sheep. So I have moved it in by a couple of  feet and the National Park are in the process of installing self close gates at each end of the path beyond the fence. Then no one will need to use the big gates except me and Gareth [when he needs to get the quad bike or tractor to the field in front -- currently with trailer containing ewes and lambs from the maternity shed].

Pictures - centre the front garden with fence across behind the umbrella

left and right the foot path. I'm still waiting for them to come back and finish the right hand gate.

 Dyfi Dog safely behind fence watching the sheep in the field beyond my stream. The stream is not visible, being 10 foot down below the footpath, but the ducks can navigate through the fence to get there.

February 13th

I have finally taken the plunge and sent for 10 ISBN numbers [I suppose that is tautology but never mind]. A week's French teaching finally rendered me solvent so I decided the time had come. I shall do Sun On The Hill first as being a chapbook, I have already mastered the intricacies of production.

I'm currently struggling with producing Teifi Dog's autobiography, which, by the way, will be appearing in serial form in La Fenetre [Tai-li and Griffonner's English language magazine from France] under it's new title of AND THEREBY HANGS A TAIL. Since it is a book with a spine and three sections within, I have quite a bit of learning to do, not to mention finding out how to add a barcode once I get the numbers.

Ah well, I suppose it is all good clean fun -- or would be but for the fact that I have ointment in my eyes so can't see the computer properly.

Think I'll give up for now and go and take the dogs out. Brith, by the way, is deliriously happy in his new home.

February 4

Well, the new year has started. we've had no snow and Wales is bathed in sunlight after a cold frosty night.

I've just finished a very happy week teaching French and am now about to try sorting out my web pages and then get back to publishing. At last I can afford to buy 10 ISBN numbers so I shall be able to do it more officially. I have finished Teifi Dog's autobiography and the next challenge is to actually make the books as it will be not a chap book but a thicker book with three sections and a spine. That will be an interesting learning curve.

And talking of dogs -- Brith has gone to live with friends of mine who recently lost their old dog and have been feeling very bereaved. Brith is afraid of Dyfi and has been looking very haunted even though Dyfi is not really a threat. So he departed yesterday and had a nice walk in the forest on the way to his new home and I understand that by this morning he was well pleased with his new circumstances [all treats just for him and three people to make a fuss of him alone].

December 29th

Hello everyone. Greetings to anyone reading this that I didn't manage to send a card to.

I had a pleasant Christmas with my friend Val staying and visiting several friends.

But the last 24 hours have been rather sad. I heard from my Russian friend, Alexander, that the dog rescue centre with which he is associated in Petersburg was burnt down and half the dogs there killed. He is clearly heartbroken about it. I have spent the best part of yesterday translating from their site and it is all here . I can't begin to imagine how they are all feeling or how they are going to cope in the middle of Russian winter.

December 5

Well the Meirionnydd Artists annual exhibition is over and went well. We changed it from the summer to October to join in with Gwynedd Arts Week but  then Gwynedd cancelled Arts Week altogether. However a group of local artists organised an alternative which included us.

I was glad it was moved as the summer is usually a busy time for teaching. But this year I had no teaching in the summer at all and then was busy in October when I had to organise the exhibition. You can't win!

Also I was having a bedroom converted to a studio -- a lot of mess as it also involved taking down the intervening wall with a small junk room. At last about 2 weeks before the opening of the exhibition it was finished and I actually managed to do some paintings. They were all acrylic as there was no time for oil paintings top dry. Here is 'Collateral Damage', my entry in this year's competition, subject 'Junk'.  Click picture to see larger one

And here is my friends' dog Bess modelling for an illustration of my sheepdoggerel anthem.      and my old dog from more than 20 years ago on holiday in Yorkshire and showing a professional interest in the local population.

That's all for now. I have a Russian visitor staying and tonight we are off to Bangor for a book launch [Cinnamon Press] so I need to make lunch and prepare to brave the weather. It's all rain and gales at present.

November 10

At last it really feels like winter. An e-mail from Dmitry to the Druzia list tells me that St Petersburg has had its first snowfall this year. I wonder if we shall have any. The grass has been growing well into autumn and the sheep have kept munching, including jumping into my back garden by means of flattening the fence to an angle of 45 degrees. A stop has now been put to that game; Oli and co came and put in nice firm posts at strategic intervals. Now the woollies are doing the intended job of mowing the back garden grass without devouring my plants, most of which now need to do some serious re-growing – nest year I suppose.

Talking of sheep; Julian finally managed to e-mail me a copy of the photo of Badger on his way to the barbers in the summer courtesy of a wheelbarrow. My computer had kept deciding that it was spam. I suspect that it detected Badger’s innate capacity for evil. In spite of appearances he isn't dead and was very spritely after his haircut and galloped back under his own steam.

September 27

Dyfi is settling in nicely. I still daren't let him loose anywhere near sheep but he has a free run quite frequently in the forest where there are no sheep. In the lane he now runs beside the van attached by a chain and some strong elastic and wearing a muzzle.

He is now quite used to sitting outside the market in Dolgellau while I sell crafts inside. Brith and Jess have been doing this regularly for a couple of years and have their own public who pass by each week just to pet them. Two weeks ago a lady came in to the craft stall and handed me a plastic bag of bonios and said 'your dogs are so good I have just been and bought these for them.' Perhaps they should have a begging bowl! Very kind of her. They enjoyed the bonios very much.

Click pictures for larger version

August 1

The woolies have been shorn. They must be a lot more comfortable. Oli always shears them in Gareth's shearing shed using his tools and they have to be manhandled from the pig sty through two gates, the garden and the farmyard and Badger always resists violently. So they tied his feet together and wheeled him upside-down in a wheelbarrow. One of the funniest sights I've seen in ages. There will I hope son be a picture of this but Julian seems to be forgetting to e-mail it to me.

July

I have reached the top of Nick's list. Nick has a do-it-yourself shop in the village and what you don't do yourself Nick does -- when you get to the top of the list; he is much in demand.

Well, I got there and he has now constructed wooden stairs with a handrail down the steep bank to my stream so that I won't break a leg or my neck. I now have also a solid bridge over the stream.

Moving to indoors: I decided ages ago to have just one guest room and reclaim the second one as a studio for myself. Originally guests were going to have the larger end room but it turned out to still have damp. So the middle room is now the guest room and the end one the studio. This actually was all to the good in the end because when I took Nick to look at the need for shelves in the studio, I also mentioned that the adjoining tiny junk room needed shelves. He tapped the intervening wall and announced that it could come down and give me proper access to the shelves when built, plus making part of the corridor too into useable space.

Needless to say, all this occasioned a great deal of dust and chaos but work is progressing well and I can't wait to have my studio and my storage space - not to mention the chance to clean up the house. I did have one really good go at that as I was expecting someone for a Russian course. However he did not arrive. I was pretty cross but at least I had a clean house for a while.

June

I have been sorting out files while looking for a story I started ages ago and filed with my usual waywardness. In the process I found this and although it is mostly about teaching, I felt that it has bearing on how we use language which some may find relevant.

It was an interview with Jim Wingate on a site called the tefl farm that used to be devoted to the English language in its many guises but seems to have vanished now. The was interview actually about teaching English but not only did I find the whole thing fascinating [He's a teacher after my own heart] but it got me thinking about several things that have been for a long time nibbling at my consciousness. Due to the site having vanished I don’t have the interview but thought my original response, with a few alterations to make sense here, would find a place in my journal.

The things that roused my interest were  not about the practicalities of using this or that method with various students. Because I teach one to one nearly all the time I really have the luxury of using whatever I want and they always enjoy it. I am not aware that I consciously think that this person will or will not respond to a particular method [well not usually; I have been known to turn all my language games for French into versions with a strong animal element because a 13 year old preferred all the livestock to the lessons], but I am pretty sure that I'm doing this unconsciously. I've filled up space here before with various stories about students and their different reactions. So now I'm going to talk more from my perspective as a learner on the receiving end because I've been aware since forever that there are odd inconsistencies in my own learning attitudes.

The first point that really interested me in the interview was storytelling. I do it myself as a teacher but have usually used it as a basis for a follow-up activity. Reading about Jim's 45 minute 'listening comprehensions' made me think. I am sure that most people, whatever methods they prefer, learn best if relaxed. There was a television programme several years ago following the class of drop out students in the states somewhere being taught French by a very interesting and eccentric man whose name I have forgotten. He started by throwing out all the furniture, bringing in sofas and cushions and drawing the curtains. And then he tried to use French with these kids in such a way that they never felt they were being tested or pressurised to do or say anything. I don't remember the details but several who had been deemed quite incapable learned very well. One does not normally have the absolute licence that he was afforded to put his ideas into action for this programme and I let a lot of it float away as impractical in real life but I was dead sure he was right about the pressure.

Since my own life was under more than enough pressure at the time, including trying to fit Welsh classes in with earning through French and Russian and warding off warfare with my ancient mother, I decided that Welsh classes were out for a year at least and I would just read; that entails no pressure as it's solitary and also a preferred occupation. I had actually 2 years off and now am girding my loins to jump back into the water. I'm certainly out of practice but my comprehension has soared.

That brings me nicely back to story telling. As I say, I use it. But I have only rarely had it used on me, which is why I suppose I resort to reading to get my stories in the language. But I did have one teacher in my very first year of Welsh evening classes who told us stories in Welsh at a point where we [like Jim's students who 'had no future'] knew very little of the structure of the language and were still suffering from a degree of amazement at the bits we did know. Our class had two sessions a week and two teachers. The great majority of the class preferred the other teacher who taught in a pretty usual way for the time and included a lot of role play and working in pairs. The story telling one did these things too but his stories were to me the highlight of my lessons. They were often myths, which was bound to attract me anyway [I'm a fairytale addict], and he would slow down and repeat tricky bits and occasionally throw in a word or two of English before repeating it in Welsh. The great thing was that he did not then try to ask us questions about what he'd told us so there was no taint of apprehension.

So far that seems to accord with what Jim was saying but there were two odd things [to my mind] in all this. The rest of the learners did not like the story telling very much as they complained that it was not teaching us anything useful. At the end of the year we went to one class a week and were given a democratic choice of teacher, so that was the end of Welsh legends in class. That all fits in with the known fact that different people like to learn in different ways. But the other discrepancy is in my own ways of learning and this takes us also to the left brain right brain thing.

I know that I tend to let my left side rule the roost. I love structures. I always want to know why and have frequently seen a class quail at the prospect of a question from me getting answered. Sometimes I have to keep myself in check and consult a grammar book in the privacy of home. Yet I would think that listening to stories without having to input anything except attention would be more of a right brain activity. So why was I the only one who really enjoyed them? I have often pondered this and the interview brought it back. Mind you, although the stories were where I first enjoyed the language, it was finding out basic sentence structure that enabled me to start hearing what people said in the village. I had always assumed that sentences started with the subject as a general rule but in Welsh they start with the verb. Once I knew that I started to hear.

A slight pause there for a comment about the present perfect as I see that it came up at the point where I've just  put my nose back into the interview. It seems to me that the root of the problem with the present perfect is not that it is difficult to use but that a large percentage of the population of Europe believe that they are already using it and therefore find it tricky to start choosing between our tenses according to a different set of principles. It is often a case of teaching them when not to use it rather than when to use it. I used to teach those with an addiction to the present perfect that there was a guillotine that came down on it whenever time was mentioned or implied. I didn't have a real one so had to rely on imagination but usually a mimed motion of cutting my throat would produce a different choice of tense.

Right. Enough of teaching and learning and on to ghosts. When I reached that bit I went back to see Jim's surname in case he was my first Russian teacher. His name was Jim too and he was a brilliant teacher and came across as a very practical down-to-earth sort of person. One day after more than a year in his evening classes he told us that he did healing. I had always considered that and ghosts etc as pure superstition but I respected that man too much to doubt that he believed exactly what he said. He had been approached out of the blue by someone who said, 'You have the power to heal'. He ridiculed it but was persuaded to try. He said he felt heat in his hands and then a severe pain and the patient's pain stopped. When he was talking to us he had been doing it for some time, was sure of the fact of his healing but had no idea how or why. We knew that he sometimes had to go home suddenly because his wife was ill. I don't know to this day with what. Also I used to attend his class sometimes with a blinding migraine. I asked him if he could either feel or relieve his wife's pain; he said no. I asked him if he'd ever felt mine and he said no. I still find the fact of healing like that almost incredible and yet I believe him. And I really don't believe in ghosts but I believe Jim.

Anyway that was a fascinating interview. Now the only thing is 'Is this too long to post on our list? I have not yet worked out [or have forgotten] how to contribute on the page instead. If I need to mend my ways, just give me a clout with the mucking out shovel.

Daffy

PS Last comment was addressed to members of the teflfarm list, thus farm vocabulary oriented.

Well another two weeks have passed and Dyfi is still with me. He is much more enthusiastic about coming when called, understands 'No!' and 'Paid' and obeys these where it concerns ducks [which he thought were for playing with] but still finds sheep the ultimate in temptation. He is now allowed to run off the lead in the forest but anywhere near fields and sheep he has to go on a long rope. In compensation he now rides on the front seat of the minibus if I have no passenger. If he is in the back he barks to be with me, whereas Brith barks if he can see other traffic so the back is blacked out for his needs. I think Dyfi needs his brain occupying, especially as he is being deprived of some exercise that the others get by not being able to run free down lanes where the fields are inhabited by sheep. So he sheepwatches from the van. He now comes in every evening, knows he is not allowed to put his nose in my dinner and is getting much more peaceful during his indoor time -- at first he just couldn't settle and wore me out.

Two weeks teaching over and done with so my coffers are replenished. Should get back to writing but got landed with a third dog. A local farmer decided he was surplus to requirements and did not want him put down so I agreed to take him. Thought I’d house train him and then find him a nice home. Ah but now the snag! He was partly trained a year ago [he’s now 2] and the first thing he did when he got home was chew through his rope and go off to round up my neighbour’s sheep. In the end I had to wade waist deep in the river to catch him. Then he chased my cats.

All in all I decided he was too much of a liability to pass on to anyone without dog-training experience so it looks like he is staying and I spend half the day attending to his education.

He is very affectionate and clever. Has learnt his name in 24 hours and house trained in two evenings. He was called Don but as he ignored it anyway I changed it to Dyfi. He now answers to that and today [a week from arrival] I actually let him off the lead in the forest and he came back to  his name each time. Mind you

I’am sure if we had been near sheep it would have been a different matter entirely. I also had him on a long rope on a walk with a friend. We had lunch at her house with Dyfi attached firmly to me while her very intelligent cat-of-the-world sat nearby and looked superior. Dyfi behaved quite well and then when the cat accompanied us on the walk  he couldn’t believe his eyes. It needed quite a bit of repetition of “Paid!!” – Welsh for “No! don’t you dare!!” When I got my first dog up here, I asked my Welsh teacher the Welsh for “No, don’t!” and he said “Paid, but the local farmers usually add a few colourful phrases”.

A week later I am still ploughing through papers. Have actually thrown away completely quite a bit of rubbish so I am quite proud of myself. Now, I have a migraine and my brain is dormant and today I have to  go to the AGM of our local RSPCA to see if we have enough active members to save it from oblivion. In  my condition I'll just be a bum on a seat, but even that is necessary.

One thing cheered me this morning. My visiting woodpecker has discovered the delights of a fat and seed filled coconut shell [the very same that the robing was practising on, and is making very good progress as he is, of course, well accustomed to dining vertically on things. But because he weighs so much more than a tit, he causes it to swing wildly, which must strike him as strange in comparison with a nice steady tree trunk.

March 18

 In all this sunshine and green fields you'd never think what it was like 2 weeks ago. Here is the latest update. March 16 2006 Well the snow finally stated to thaw after 6 days -- the longest I've been snowed in so far. Everywhere was pretty soggy as the snow thawed and gradually drained away to the rivers. Now it is a bit soggy but froze last night. All the wild birds are eating twice their rations outside my study window. Here is a poem I wrote during the snow occasioned by one visitor.

A ROBIN ON A LEARNING CURVE

Today, in the snow that has cut me off

from postman and the world,

a robin came to feed and tried to emulate the tits,

who hang from one leg beside their nut-rich lunch

or suspend themselves inverted on the fat-filled shell

that dangles from a branch.

In pity for his plight

I fixed a tray into the tree

with porridge oats and seeds

that he might dine in style and safety.

Amid the swirling snow,

a swirling cloud of birds descended on the tray,

finches, tits and sparrows delighted with the feast.

News spreads fast in a bird’s eye view

when food is of the essence.

And the robin?

With frantic fluttering of wings and stabbing bill

he’s still practising precarious acrobatics

-- a new apprentice to an awkward skill.

March 18 Spring is officially here. The field in front of the house has a crop of lambs.

 click for larger picture

March 2nd 2006 Just one day late for St. David's Day

The weather forecast a week ago promised an arctic wind and snow by Thursday. The wind came on Tuesday and was biting although nothing actually froze – except me.

The snow duly arrived yesterday, Wednesday, and I have now been thoroughly snowed in for two days. I have learned from experience and always make sure in winter that I have plenty of supplies in for the livestock and for myself [including candles as the electricity can vanish in inclement weather but so far not this time].

Everywhere looks lovely with sun sparkling on the snow. The ducks have been kept inside their nighttime quarters, a nice big bog with houses and a stream so no real hardship but they clearly feel somewhat aggrieved. They hate snow. It is so difficult to clamber around down there in the snow that I have not looked for eggs for a few days but I expect they have stopped laying in protest anyway.

The sheep are on their last bale of hay. They have emailed our friend Oli who supplies it but of course she can’t get in. I trust  the snow will go before they have eaten the last of it. Both they and I are sincerely grateful to Oli and family for re-roofing the pigsty last year. At least they have somewhere cosy to eat and I am not trying to dish out food in wet or snow.

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