"Croeso i ddyfnderoedd fy isymwybod: Welcome to the depths of my subconscious. Shark Fishing in Wales is one man's odyssey to understand the land of his birth through anecdote, observation and reminiscence! By learning about his country, perhaps he can learn more about himself. A process of individuation which Carl Jung suggests we should all go through. Less assuming one nationhood and more working towards one nationhood before we become Independent." Daf Williams
Cymru/Wales: Bipolar Nation
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Six days in to 2020 and I haven't written a blog post yet! I haven't missed a month since January 2012 when this crazy adventure fir...
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Looking back to the playground of St. Osmund’s RC Primary School in the district of Breightmet in the Lancashire mill town of Bolton I re...
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My second spoken word event in 4 days. I am turning from an anti-social moth into a social butterfly all in the name of 'Spoken W...
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As a Ffrinj Nutter who had a dalliance with the Welsh Nationalist Party/ Plaid Cymru/ The Party of Wales many, many years ago I was p...
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"Individuals and businesses not paying the tax they should deprives the government of the funding it needs to provide vital public serv...
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Hello my fruity old fruit bats! That is a term of endearment by the way. I thought I would treat you to a piece of prose rather than the b...
Wednesday 29 February 2012
"I want to lose weight and be able to go shopping again"
The Western Mail was hoping that this would escape my radar, not a chance. As the Toilet Paper was delivered through the pristine letter box, not 1 but 4 leaflets fell out all carrying the same message.(I am staying with family). They were working on the premise that 4 overweight people were living at the address
The leaflet was in pink with two red designer shopping bags and the heading was
" I want to lose weight and be able to go shopping again" signed Tracy, Cardiff.
Then a short succinct message
Weight loss surgery, Meet the weight loss surgeon(s) and support team at our open events for your free mini consultation.
You can imagine what the surgeon will say "Hey Momma, you're packing a few pounds there, you need weight loss surgery instantly and it will cost you x thousands of pounds".
I'm still confused as to what demographic they are targeting.
Come on thick boy, get with the programme. Isn't that sexist advertising though? Let's deconstruct the Tag line shall we!
I want to lose weight and be able to go shopping again=I am so self conscious about my body mass index that I have low self esteem, that I don't want to be seen outside the home, shopping.
Have I got that right? As a male bear of very little brain, I am trying to process the fact that you might go shopping, to be seen, to be looked at. Surely not! You go shopping to buy food and stuff.
Ooooh look what we have on the bottom of the leaflet, the logo for Spire Cardiff Hospital, Croescadarn Road, Pentwyn, Cardiff, CF23 8XL. They offer a wide range of weight loss operations, look you, gastric banding, gastric-bypass, sleeve gastrectomy and intra-gastric balloon.
So you would undergo the above operations to be able to go shopping again? Does Tracy exist? Probably but in the offices of the adman agency, Churchill way (Fictitious). She is stick thin and eats fresh air but she knows her genders' psychology down to a T.
I have reported in the citizen blog before that is 'Sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.com' about the shallowness of content of our National Daily Newspaper. I for one am hoping that it will go weekly, then monthly, then quarterly, then disappear altogether. Does Rupert 'the bear' Murdoch know what he is missing down here in the Principality Kingdom of Serfs known as Walesa?
As if the NHS isn't under enough strain already with Conservative Privatisation by the Tradesmans' entrance. To alleviate the strain, Spire, previously known as Bupa, will take the strain with their mini consultations. How many Gastric Bandings will it take to pay for my new Golf Buggy and holiday to the Florida Keys?
"We'll get you shopping again Tracy, have no fear"!
'Twang'! "What the hell was that"? "Your new gastric band love".
Tuesday 28 February 2012
Am feeling dis one today!
- Do not go gentle into that good night,
- Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
- Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
- Because their words had forked no lightning they
- Do not go gentle into that good night.
- Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
- Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
- Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
- And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
- Do not go gentle into that good night.
- Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
- Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
- Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- And you, my father, there on the sad height,
- Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
- Do not go gentle into that good night.
- Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Do_not_go_gentle_into_that_good_night
Saturday 25 February 2012
Anger Management!
Wednesday 22 February 2012
Atos
Tuesday 21 February 2012
Monday 20 February 2012
Anglo Saxon Attitude
Wales are playing England in Rugby on Saturday next at Twickenham. I hope that England win! Whilst the 'Prince of Wales' feathers is still on the Welsh Jerseys I will be supporting the opposition. It's hypocritical of me because the soccer team I support 'Wrexham FC', the only team in North Wales have the Feathers as part of their crest. Soccer is a very different game to Rugby. Soccer was Rugby before the buffoon William Webb Ellis picked the ball up at Rugby School and ran with it. Well I wish he had kept running. Rugby Football is an oppression. I played it from an U 15 level at school and when I came down to Kairdiff I stupidly joined Cathays High School Old Boys as Hooker. It was in my 'Losers' Script. Whatever team I played for, we always lost! Playing against Liverpool College we lost to a record 127-0. Even the Referee couldn't stop laughing at how bad we were.
As you may have guessed by now I go a lot on emotion and the vibe. When I realised what a lot of 'Toff Toss' like oppression school was I used to bunk off and go and watch Wrexham playing football at the Racecourse. Much of my anti 'Anglo-Saxon attitude' must hark back to this period when I lived in an area which didn't know whether it was English or Welsh, the Vale of Clwyd. The Liverpool overspill. Welsh was spoken in the countryside, English was the language of the towns of Ruthin, Denbigh and Mold.
Nick Griffin lives in Mid Wales, you know. The leader of the British National Party lives near Carno in Mid Wales and the last time I drove past, he had a Panzer Kampfwagon parked on his drive. He has even hosted Jean Marie Le Pen, the former leader of Le Front Nacional, in a Marquee in a field across to his house. Nick doesn't want to live next door to aliens and foreigners in England so he moves to Wales where we'll gladly have him. We'll have anybody!
Now 'i cadw'r ddesgil yn wastad'/ to keep the dish evenly filled, I have to say that I reserve the same amount of disgust at my fellow countrymen as I do towards the upper echelons of the Political Wing of The British National Party, namely the Conservative Party. We in Wales are satisfied in beating England at Rugby in the Six Nations! If that happens, then its heads down again. We have beaten the 'auld enemy' in a contact sport. That'll do! It doesn't matter that a certain strata of society are running our country. There never was a class system in Wales until the Anglo Saxon Attitude crept in after the Act of Union. A friend from University said " It's very unnerving to feel like I built the castles and was part of Edward I's army, they seem to hold me personally responsible".
We are a dumbed down nation, happy to drink S.A Brains firewater and laugh at their advertising campaign likening Twickenham to a toilet. Let me tell you, Wales is the toilet, and we have taken a lot of shit over the years. Don't worry, this is not a member of Plaid Cymru talking. I left them over twelve years ago.
Sunday 19 February 2012
Dear John!
Friday 17 February 2012
Salmond Fishing in Scotland
- Nationalist: Not a helpful word this one, it can be used by academics and conservative politicians to make you feel like a Fascist. Ironic what?
- Schizophrenia: Not a helpful word or concept at all. So much media representation of this condition has given it such a heavy burden that the word needs to change. R.D Laing, the Scotsman Psychiatrist from the Glasgow tenements knew this when he wrote 'The Divided Self'
- Death: Not a good word. Apart from the most enlightened, we are all 'shit scared' of death therefore might I suggest 'The Long Sleep' or 'The Long Rest'.
- Ethnicity: This word enhances the differences between human beings. A 'bad' word. Ethnic Minority is a ridiculous concept which just goes to strengthen the weakness inherent in the two words.
Thursday 16 February 2012
A Plan Stan!
Wednesday 15 February 2012
GIZZA JOB
Tuesday 14 February 2012
Fe Flogiwn Ni Eto!
It was 50 years to the day, yesterday, that Saunders Lewis broadcast 'Tynged yr Iaith', the Fate of the Language. Out of a population of 3 million, 585,000(This keeps changing, this is an optimistic if not realistic figure) allegedly speak the language. Census figures will update us but these do tend to be massaged. 3000 people less are speaking it fluently every year. I have mentioned before about the context in which a language is spoken. Language cannot exist in a vacuum but it appears to be doing so in Wales. I love the language but I don't love the artificial context that it is used. In business or media or over a pint! That is why I am writing this blog on Valentine's Day and not on Diwrnod Santes Dwynwen. The Glass half full/empty scenario might say that it is a miracle that it has survived so well as it has living alongside and amongst the second most spoken language in the world. English, the language of the Empire which is now the language of America and Australia and Canada. Welsh is spoken in Wales which is a country the size of well....Wales and in Patagonia where seekers of religious freedom settled in the 19th Century. Language is an Oppression, even languages that we have an emotional attachment to. In one of my last attendances at an organised congregation of worship, the Minister encouraged us to say the Lord's Prayer in our chosen language. The Welsh and English were spoken in prayer, almost in competition and having started in Welsh, I went to silence and my wish was that the universal language of the world, be silence.
We all make excuses and we all pass the buck. I wish to make a contribution. I write monologues in Welsh or Wenglish to be un-exact. They reflect my use. My written work reflect the experience of those who are on the fringes of mainstream society. I am uncomfortable with a reality that has an emphasis on profit before people. What use a language which is used, in the same social context as others? Learning a language in order to secure a better job or to make more money does not cut the mustard with me. You are then using the language as a vehicle. You are more concerned with the destination than the journey. Living once again with mortality is a responsibility that perhaps we wouldn't choose but those who speak it and those who live within the artificial borders of Wales, also have a responsibility.
Here is a link to the book 'Burning down the Dosbarth' by David Greenslade
http://www.ylolfa.com/dangos.php?ISBN=0862432715
Sunday 12 February 2012
Adios Amigo!
Thursday 9 February 2012
Toilet Blocker
Capital 2
In Cardiff, London or anywhere for that matter, how much time do we spend thinking about what happens once the fast food has passed very quickly through our digestive systems and into the sewerage systems. Not a lot of time I would wager because it's not our problem anymore. The food has done its job in hardening our arteries or giving us energy, its hit the porcelain and gone. Somebody else's job! The Sewerage Meister's job! We are surrounded by Crap on a daily basis, metaphorical shit, much of it visual! Have you seen Leicester Square recently? You'd be wiping off builder's rubble before you get on the Red Carpet. There are so many of us 'bods' that I suppose tis only in a blog post that you can take the required time to 'muse' upon such matters.
This Post catchingly titled Capital 2 as a head bow or nod to St David's 2, the all new singing and dancing shopping emporium in Kairdiff City Centre. Not satisfied with one St David, we have to have 2. With our Patron Saint's Day fast approaching and this Blogger's 46th birthday on the same day, the latter has to wonder, apart from being an energy sump what a capital has to offer apart from shops and rugby. Much more I'm sure, but I'll leave you with this urban myth. Twas said on the streets of the old city that when St David's 2 was under construction, that the developers wanted the land that the Tabernacle Baptist Chapel lies on. The Chapel was offered £1,000,000 big ones to vacate (to make way for Capitalism/Progress). The Capel refused in Welsh to this request.
It's nice to know that not everything can be bought! The Spirits are calling.
Monday 6 February 2012
'Capital' by John Tripp
Sunday 5 February 2012
Beaut Park
So I failed my exams, I've been sacked twice from a script I sleptwalked into and now I have a failed business under my belt. Enough! Time to take an observer role again. Still didn't know that I had Bipolar Disorder! What do I do now? Well the Bowling Green Gig had been easy enough, why not try again with Cardiff City Council's Department of Leisure and Amenities? This time as a Gardener. I walked through Bute Park today, the Jewel in the Crown of Kairdiff. I started as a Driver/Gardener in September 1989 based at the Castle Mews which is now the Welsh College of Music and Drama. A fine building and suits its present purpose better. Bute Park has changed a lot over the years. When I started as a Park Keeper, there were 56 now referred to as Rangers across Cardiff Parks, now there are only 10. Cost Cutting and all that! The Park has changed a lot in all that time. The Parks were started as Public Amenities! It is the only place to escape from the crass concrete commercialisation and capitalism of a capital city but now you can't escape from the money makers because now two cafes have opened in the park and a third one will be opening soon in the North Lodge by the Animal Wall. Roads have now been run through the Park to allow for the easier movement of gas guzzling vehicles to set up for the many shows that the Park now hosts.
You might think that this blog is rather self indulgent and why should we want to know all this but I'm realising that I am writing it as a warning to people to be vigilant with their young people. It is not surprising that Bipolar Disorder is now reaching epidemic proportions in America. Mood Disorders can easily be misinterpreted as normal teenage behaviour, which is what happened in my case. They were less enlightened times.
Bute Park or Beaut Park as I refer to it is a National Treasure and provided a sanctuary to me for two years. I am grateful for this respite and opportunity. Looking back I now realise that the action of calling into an Off Licence after work and buying a Flagon of Cider, getting back to the adobe in Grungetown and the first action I take after closing the door behind me, was to open the flagon and to start drinking, glugging, in a standing position were the actions of somebody who was seriously self medicating. I didn't bother to sit or get a glass. It was only a short step to the park bench!
Saturday 4 February 2012
Dinas Studios!
After bidding farewell to Jimmy and the bowlers of Maindy I saw an advertisment from a gentleman who was selling the lease and goodwill on a business in the Royal Stuart Workshops, James Street, Cardiff. I was 22 years of age and ready to become a self employed businessman after failing my exams and being sacked twice (Did I mention that before?) Unit 4 Dinas Studios. I started walking down here from the Canton Flat before moving down to my present abode in Grungetown, Cardiff. So September 1988 I looked out of the back window and saw the fading picture of Lynette White on an A4 Poster on a lampost by ironically enough the old Butetown Police Station.
I have alluded to Mental Health earlier but what I omitted to say was that before coming down to Cardiff from North Wales, I spent two weeks under observation at the North Wales Medical Centre under Dr Dafydd Alun Jones after suffering a breakdown.
"Its got nothing to do with Kairdiff, he brought his misery with him".
My life, not for the first time imploded after being stopped for drinking and driving on the Denbigh by Pass(Shame)and after losing my licence for eighteen months. I was living in Colwyn Bay and travelling every day to Kinmel Bay to work in a.....Printers(Aaaaaaaaagghhh!) It was the Curse of the Conservative Party again because if the shame of drinking and driving wasn't enough, the drink had been imbibed in the Conservative Club in Ruthin where I knew there was a female I might impress by getting very drunk. I was completely unconscious and depressed and fundamentally unhappy but had no insight whatsover. I thought this was what everybody's life was like. I started cycling a bike and then catching a bus and then as the Crossville was trundling up the hill to Colwyn Bay, I thought I'll return to the land of my birth, South Wales. I wouldn't need a car in Kairdiff. The diagnosis I had been given by Dr Dafydd Alun was 'Extreme Sensitivity' what perhaps might now be classified as 'Hypersensitive'. A 'Bipolar' Label at that age might not have been helpful as I would have started on a medicine regime that would have resulted by now in side affects I'm sure. I left the Medical Centre and North Wales in denial. I returned to the South Wales of my birth in denial. Not knowing that I had a serious Mental Health Condition, I spent every day with mood swings that might have floored many but which I dealt with by drinking and smoking (Cigarettes) in copious amounts.
Two events stand out in my mind from Dinas Studios.
One early morning I turned on the radio and heard the following.
"Pan Am Flight 103 was Pan American World Airways' third daily scheduled transatlantic flightfrom London Heathrow Airport to New York's John F. Kennedy International Airport. On Wednesday, 21 December 1988, the aircraft flying this route — a Boeing 747–121 registered N739PA and named “Clipper Maid of the Seas” — was destroyed by a bomb, killing all 243 passengers and 16 crew members. Eleven people in Lockerbie, in southern Scotland, were also killed as large sections of the plane fell in the town and destroyed several houses, bringing total fatalities to 270. As a result, the event is also known as the Lockerbie bombing. During the 2011 Libyan civil war a former government official claimed that Muammar Gaddafi had personally ordered the attack".
A Global Tragedy that like Lynette White's murder has had reverbrations throughout the following decades. What I couldn't understand was that I started sobbing. I didn't know the victims, it had no personal relevance to me but I locked the Unit's door, sat down in the seat behind the counter and sobbed. Another event related to the radio was hearing on the Welsh News that an elderly lady in Old Colwyn had been attacked in her own home by two intruders. She was my landlady in York Street, Colwyn Bay, after I was released from the Medical Centre. She was a dear, sweet old lady who had moved up to North Wales to be near her sister. She gave me a book as I left 'The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam' and wrote to Dafydd with kind thoughts in the front cover. I knew immediately from the news flash that this was Mrs Bailey. Like ET, I phoned home to have this news confirmed and went to visit her in hospital. She was black and blue around the head and was 92 at the time.
Dinas Studios was not going well. I was getting phonecalls asking about rehearsal times for the Soap Opera 'Dinas' which was showing on S4C. I was having problems with the machinery, an old Gestetner machine which had been left was now misbehaving and I made a mistake by purchasing a Multilith sheet fed from the Exchange and Mart. I spent hours shouting and kicking this machine much to the mirth and amusement of the stained glass workshop next door. Another neighbour was a very miserable man who fixed fruit machines. He was forever scowling and complaining about me cleaning my ink rollers in the communal sink. Across the corridor, the musician Dave Burns from the Hennesseys had a unit and upstairs was an independent Film Company called Gaucho run by the Musician and Film Director Endaf Emlyn. Ironically years later I sent a Film Script in to them which was accepted as a work in progress. It was called 'After The Asylum'. After closing the doors after each day's disappointments I would meet up with my friend from 'The Printers' and we would waste my money and time in the old Cardiff Pubs.
It wasn't going well. I had to wear many hats and coping with my high and low moods and hangovers proved too much. A kind man from Williamstown in the Rhondda, Bill Cheal, was a typesetter in the Castle Arcade. He offered a partnership and with that brought new machines and more business. I was getting disillusioned. I was thinking about life outside of Printing and in August of 1989 I sold what was left of the goodwill to Bill and wished him well. A couple of years afterwards I was watching the underwhelming Wales Today and was amazed to see the buildings above shown in a news report regarding forged American Express cheques. Apparently a Police Sting had lured Bill's son into a forging scam. The case collapsed but all Bill's hard work after taking over was for nothing. The case collapsed after another example of Police Corruption. Hey Ho! Happy Days!
The fact is, the poet does not want admiration, he wants to be believed.
— Jean Cocteau Quotes (@CocteauQuotes) September 21, 2020
Death by Taxes
"Individuals and businesses not paying the tax they should deprives the government of the funding it needs to provide vital public serv...
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Bottom of the Ottoman
Bottom of the Ottoman from David Williams on Vimeo.
Crying in your Beer from David Williams on Vimeo.
Hitler navigates the A487 from Aberaeron to Aberystwyth
I shall never wear tweeds from David Williams on Vimeo.