Visit Wales.com

So come one

come all

to the linguistic

free for all

aka

Visit Wales.com

It's not your fault

no

nothing ever is

you're just a

no mark

Your boat is moored at Abersoch

the Dunroamin? or Lady Lee?

You stand on the balcony

of the yacht club and say

'Something Must be Done'

About this language that they insist on speaking.

We welcome anyone,

even the leader of the B.N.P

however if I met him

I'd tie him to a tree

I'd put a pointy hat on his head

and a box of Special K in his hand

and then I'd light the bonfire with my

fiery wand.

It's all right to be racist if you're English

But if you're Welsh

and losing your language

your soul

eich 'enaid'

the same rules do no apply to you.

After all the simmering resentment

is just

role reversed contentment

Get used to it Taffy

cos

Anne Robinson, Jeremy Clarkson and Katie Hopkins

have got their names down

for cottages

on the Lleyn. 

Time to say Goodbye

2 weeks ago now

I was sat outside Costa Coffee

in my shades observing

and being observed on

St John's Square, Liverpool

A man with a pram had wheeled his violin and speakers

to a spot in the middle of the square.

He was warming up quite nicely

and so was I.

The song that he was playing quite

ironically was

"Time to say Goodbye"

because no sooner had he started

than a man came around from behind the Jewellers with

his walkie talkie

and started pointing and remonstrating

and shaking his head.

He shrugs his shoulders and 'security' is now using sign language

A finger to the lips won't hush this Musician.

He continues to say goodbye,

the notes cutting through the morning fugue. 

Where man fails

woman prevails.

Lady Manageress

tells

the musician in no uncertain terms to leave.

Haunting music cannot be good for business.

He packs up and puts his babies back in the pram

and I get to wondering whether she has any children.

It was obviously time for him to say Goodbye 

and I wish that the old trout had stayed in her shop,

that sold shiny rocks.

Gentrification

continues

apace.



Genius Loci

 

I think I have discovered a Hobby! Psycho-Geography, something that I have been doing for most of my adult life without realising what it was! Basically, walking everywhere usually cities, picking up the vibes and energies, checking out the buildings. I have been very fortunate since September last, to be able to do this with both Manchester and Liverpool. I have walked Cardiff to death! I walked Amsterdam to death in 2005 before I was bundled off the streets unceremoniously. I see similarities between Cardiff, Amsterdam and Liverpool and that is Water! These are cities where water plays an important role, more so in Amsterdam and Liverpool. I am fascinated by Docklands and was fortunate or unfortunate to walk most of Rotterdam Docks in 2005 as well. There is something of the occult about Psycho-Geography in that it involves the spirit of a place, what the Romans would call, the Genius Loci http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genius_loci  Occasionally my walking gets so extreme that my antennae become finely tuned and I become very sensitive to noise and unfortunately noise and traffic are big parts of city life. I see traffic as a nuisance because I want to cross the road and I still don't understand why somebody in a tin room with wheels takes precedence over someone on two legs.
Probably because they pay more tax to the Government but the experience of Psycho-Geography for me is spoilt by traffic so Parks and Green Spaces become a haven and destination. Another potential problem is that I have a large personal space. I don't feel comfortable when people get physically close. I have a need to keep a distance and that in itself can be a challenge in a city. I can be quite the twitchy, fussy flaneur about town.  Water is like the heart of a city, it pumps it round the system and I have felt that cities with water have a better feel than cities without. It's almost like the water diffuses the pollution. London perhaps would be an exception. London is very popular with Psychogeographers. I have walked much of London and the places that have a real, authentic vibe and energy are places like Kilburn, Deptford & Brick Lane. Places that jangle with me are Kensington & Park Lane. Artificial Wealth. Liverpool 1 has become like this. If I was a female psycho-geographer perhaps shops and retail would provide their own interest value but it is Antique Shops, Bric a Brac, Second Hand and Bookshops that hold my interest. I yearn for authenticity, the real thing and in our dumbed down society and culture this is becoming a rarer thing. I am detecting a dark Victorian Energy in parts of Manchester. Some of the Buildings are so tall and oppressive that finding a green space is a priority and I don't think that Piccadilly Gardens qualifies. Somewhere that I have walked up and down quite a lot is Oxford Road Manchester and this is incredibly busy and I remarked to a Geologist that I felt very frazzled after walking down there and he said that it could be to do with the number of Telephone Masts down there. There are so many convenient supermarkets and coffee outlets for students that you are literally spoilt for choice. It could be the energy of youth, it could be that I am getting too old to be walking in loud, busy places. I have to have sanctuaries in cities where I can escape and these are the Parks, Museums and Libraries. I have spent much of my life in these places because I cannot literally deal with the Psychic Energy of cities for too long. On the other hand, country life would not be stimulating enough for me at this stage. If after reading this any fellow Psycho-Geographers have suggestions for places and cities that are good to explore, please do let me know in the comments section below. Thank You!  

Spirit 1904

Ysbryd 1904

Chester, where this train terminates!

Chester



where this train terminates.

Even termites terminate at Chester

There is a graveyard behind Booker

on the way in.

There will be no cash and carry going on there.

They will all have turned to worms.

No need for digestive practices.

No need for the Middle Man.

Just stick it down the pan, Stan!

Yes, everything terminates

at Chester

The Romans, The Welsh

and Pissheads

Let's get the fast train out of here.

Ah! no! right! I see!

From Arriva to Mersey Rail

we're going from slow to slower.

It stops everywhere,

a clump of sand,

a matchbox,

an empty cider bottle

Yes, the train stops there too.

No wonder everything terminates

at Chester.

 

A semiotic reading would indicate that this was written by a fan of Wrexham F.C  

Holiday Inn Hoodlum

 

 

I am the Holiday Inn Hoodlum

Not for me the Y.H.A

I kick off at the slightest mention

of middle class D.N.A

I wreak havoc amongst the pot plants

I prepare my little rants

I moon in the foyer

and flash my Superman pants.

I watch the sour faced couples

making hate across the floor

and wince, as they glide out smiling,

through the plate glass door.

Hotels are a rip-off

Hotels they are a con.

They will charge you a very nice price

for being artificially nice. 

You can stay on our crisp white linen

You can get very pissed in our bar,

We'll even let you park, your shiny, shitty car.

But don't ask us for any extras

don't moan and please don't fight

Cos you think your staying longer

but you're here for just one night. 



The Landing Stage, Liverpool circa 1906

 

 

Long funnelled fedora

on a post Victorian gentleman

everyone wears a hat

even the dog

bright

brass

buttons

bedazzle

bowler hats & box brownies

the landing stage

is also a

leaving stage.

a

lot

has

happened in

108

years

2

World

Wars

a

n

d

countless others.

Life was shorter 

but hats were taller.

Three score years & 10

When I get to my three score years and ten,

I'll want to be put in front of a firing squad.

They'll shoot, when I shout "when".

I've had a gutsful already of this life

it seriously ain't no joke

somebody with a bushy beard

cracked an egg

the world, it was the yolk.

What he did with that yellow golden bit is anybody's guess!

This life that we lead is like a game of chess.

Three score years & ten is really quite enough,

especially, when like me, you're running out of puff.

Grangetown has been a disappointment

I cannot deny    

New York, Paris, London

And I get the booby prize.

2 dead already in the street this year

they died of beer, fags, ennui

obesity and fear.

As the Pearly gates draw near or is that Satan's Hall?

I can certainly attest that it's never been a ball.

There never was a guide book, a map or kind of plan

The three tiered cake of life

has turned into a flan.

We are all living far too long with Bottox, Stents & Gear

The drugs they use to keep us alive

should slowly disappear.

One day it will be all too late

Some, they will be forlorn

We spent too much time moaning

instead of appreciating the dawn.

The grieving never lasts too long

People, they do bounce back,

we'll just be remembered

when they see the empty sack

at Christmas

is the worst time for family and friends

but then alcohol and the footy is on

and we're forgotten all over again.

Oh Yes! Three score years & 10 is quite enough for me,

typical, the bloody firing squad has trooped off for their tea. 

Copyright@DavidWilliams March 2014

Soft Lad

I've always been a soft lad

and that is kinda bad.

I knew it was a problem

as soon as I turned nine,

because all me mates were doing it,

but I wouldn't turn to crime.

I was interested in Butterflies

Bats & Birds & Bees

And I didn't understand when I was told

"Get down on your knees"

A hard lad had heard I was a soft lad

and said "Tsk, Tsk, this will not do"

So he told me to do a Jesus

and stand up straight and tall.

And after he kicked me in the nuts

he crucified me to the wall.

He didn't have any 2x4

so breeze block bricks would do.

He got some of his fathers' nails

and started banging through.

Now I know I was a soft lad cos

I didn't die for anyone's sin.

I just cried and cried and cried

but hard lad wouldn't give in.

He had a passion in his eyes that only a hard lad could attain

I kept shouting "Stop, please Stop" but he just would not refrain.

This hard lad was a zealot for cruelty and pain,

but this soft lad up upon the wall was hardening to the game.

I spat in his face and laughed out loud

and like the Incredible Hulk,

I managed to extricate myself

from his hammer and his bulk.

I was no longer soft lad,

a hard lad I had become.

I started eating Butterflies

 when they landed on my tongue.

To be a soft lad is not a thing

anyone should aspire.

It was only a job for Jesus

and his heavenly choir.

Copyright David Williams @March 18th 2014  



Caerdiff

 

 

Caerdiff

 

 

to be read out in the style of a hip hop rapper/beat boxer

 

 

 

 

 

No man you read that right

 

it's a C to the E

 

You wanna fight?

 

I gone to the Welsh skool

 

but it done me no good

 

cos no fucker speaks it

 

You take me for a fool?

 

They say you got to go away, to come back, right?

 

Well I've just been away, come back

 

and it's still shite.

 

Fat men in valleys accents and red shirts

 

drinking lots of beer till their bellies hurt.

 

Saturday night is the fucking worst

 

St Mary St and they all got a thirst

 

Stiletto heeled giraffes, mouthing, "look don't touch"

 

then reaching down and grabbing for your crotch

 

Rugby playing monsters grunting at the bar

 

Dr Who Impersonators going too far.

 

This City don't know its arse from its elbow

 

Its Mail from its Echo

 

And the sad thing is its always been this way

 

And it don't fucking matter what Dan O' Neill

 

do say!

 

 

Copyright @David Williams March 16th 2014

 



YES

 I am hoping for a Scottish win tomorrow at the Millennium Stadium. To give Alex Salmond and that closet nationalist Andy Murray something to cheer up about as I fear there will be an icy wind a blowin up their Trossachs in September. A man at the Hostel who didn't sound at all Scots but claimed to be said "Remember what happened in Czechoslovakia? It became the Czech and Slovak Republics?" "Yes, well Scotland will become Slovakia if they vote for Independence, they will disappear off the world map". "Aha" said I "What makes you think that it will be Scotland that becomes the new Slovakia? England could sink without trace after the vote". That stunned him. Another man from Southampton, more in jest than seriousness, I suspect said "It's about time England declared Independence from these nuisance Celtic Fringe. It's time to go it alone" 
I thought, yes, it is all a matter of perception. I'm not living North of Hadrian's Wall so I can only comment as a Celtic Cousin and wish them well. Walking through Manchester t'other day I chanced upon a light blue plaque on the wall, I thought it might have been a shrine to a Manchester City gathering but it was in fact a plaque to commemorate Bonnie Prince Charlie. The light doesn't show it up too well but it states that on this spot Charles Edward Stuart used this site as a Gun Park. He was marching on London and listening to his generals made the fateful decision to turn back at Derby to winter in Scotland rather than march on the Capital. James 1 of England was James V1 of Scotland. We've had Gordon Brown as Prime Minister. There are probably many other Scots links but the Independence question is one of emotion and not economy. Cameron and Darling have been trotting out their Union line and the BBC appear to be daily running anti-independence propaganda in the shape of afternoon plays.  There is no doubt that the effete Metropolitan elite of who George Orwell was so scathing, the English upper class are worried. What will happen to Balmoral and Glamis Castle if they go it alone. Will her Maj get the royal boot up her jacksie?

Scotland is an amazing country but man/woman cannot live on scenery alone and I am affeared that Glasgow and Edinburgh and the Borders will vote against Independence and then the population North of this will not be enough in numbers to swing the vote. I would be very surprised if the people of the Highlands and Islands will vote against it. 
So Wales lost to England last week in the Rugby and that event alone will decide the Political Climate in Wales for another year. Lukewarm sick in Wales as opposed to lukewarm porridge is the order of the day politically this side of Offa's Dyke.  Come on Scotland.

A Run For Your Money

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSb90Fc_e8s

The Everyman Theatre ( A personal perspective)

The End Is Nigh

Well, another St David's Day raises its weary head. I wore a daffodil last year on my beany hat and was greeted with 'I prefer St Patrick's Day'. Yeah, well that was Cardiff and this St David's Day I am in Liverpool, the Capital of North Wales for despite living as a 'cwntw' for the last 25 years, my spiritual heart is in North Wales. Surprising considering I was pathologically unhappy and clinically depressed during my teenage years when I lived there but there is a return to source. I am attracted by the innocence and naievity of North Wales. The Industrial Revolution killed the Welsh Language in South Wales ostensibly and it is the Gogs and West Walians who keep it going in the ghettoes of the self proclaimed Capital. So Cardiff is the Capital of South Wales and Liverpool is the Capital of North Wales but we have the little problem of Anne Robinson who despite the botox and collogen implants looks more like 84 than my youthful 48.  The way she talks now between gritted teeth and lips, she could be talking her 'despised' Welsh.

 

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/1825121.stm

 

 

She likes Fox Hunting as well which again will endear her to the Welsh Peasantry. On St David's Day I actually feel very close to the Welsh Peasantry. I am descended from a Farming Family in North East West and a Teaching Family in West Wales. From the earth we came, to the earth we will return.

 

As part of my M.A in Playwriting at Salford University I am required to carry out a Research Portfolio for one module and it is my intention to run, organise and implement a piece of site specific theatre in Liverpool based on the Welsh immigrants who came here for work in the decades from 1840 -1901. 

 

 

Although having watched it for the first time, I think that it was pretty much tongue in cheek and I'm sure that the crowd was encouraged to bay for the Welsh to be put in Room 101. If not, then the reaction of the Metropolitan crowd is pretty disturbing. I will myself admit to finding that some of my fellow country persons have had a 'sense of humour' transplant. It must go back to our Non Conformist Chapel background again. 

 

I think my performance now must include people wearing Anne Robinson masks. Because if there's one thing that grinds my gears it is ingratitude.

 

 

We built your city not on Rock & Roll 'wack' but on blood, sweat and tears.