I have just returned from a whistle stop tour of 'Free Wales' Free Wales aka 'Fortress Gwynedd'. Where the rugged terrain stops, the high craggy peaks and the forests, south of Dolgellau and just north of Machynlleth, that is where Free Wales ends and British Wales begins. This is the land that has kept the indigenous language. If Wales was as flat as the Netherlands, there would be no Welsh left. Guerrilla Warfare of a linguistic and cultural nature is being waged against a culture and language that had a large percentage of the world as its Empire. Tourists come and go. Where they feel that it is safe to stay, then they do so! In the hostel where I stayed last night just north of 'BedGelet' at the breakfast table this morning 'mummy' was holding court over two precocious nine year olds who I nicknamed Jocasta and Jemima. They were warned against having an 'energy meltdown' today because mummy was frazzled and one of the two asked whether "Daddy would be joining them in their adventures today or was he going to be a miserable toad as usual" and with that poor old hen pecked daddy walked in. I wonder who had taught the little darlings to refer to their father as a miserable toad? Well needless to say I left there in a rush and got to Porthmadog before the trendy cagoules and steam punkers of Gwyl Rhif 6 had amassed on the streets of 'Fortress Portmeirion'. I have family links to the town on one side but have never dallied and dawdled. I did the usual thing, book shop browse, coffee to go, walk, charity shop browse and back to the borrowed vehicle for the journey South. I am one for getting the vibe of places and sometimes I don't have to get out of the car, my antennae are that finely tuned. Betws -y-Coed and Beddgelert had sold their souls to the devil. Tacky is not the word. Caernarfon and Port were authentic and original but the tensions between making a buck and saving the language could be felt. The day previously I had been to Bangor aye! Like the rest of the North Wales coast, Bangor had fallen. I went into Pontio, the new arts centre, and felt that I had entered the tunnel of sensory deprivation. Everything was white. The architect and designer had obviously decided to play it safe in a Black and White world. Not wishing to offend anybodies tastes they went the way of the old MFI 'White Space'. I am convinced after a cursory 10- 15 minutes of a walk round, that working in that kind of environment would send you 'doollally tap' and you could start seeing spots in front of your eyes. The fact that the end result is so bleached and anodyne after its troubled gestation period is symptomatic to me of much of what is wrong with present day Wales. Cymru is losing its soul. British Wales with its Prince of Wales, Pie & Pint culture never really had one, and my fear is that unless Fortress Gwynedd pulls its finger out, it will go the same way. If the National Arsembly of Wales wont put up Border Controls and proper signs announcing ' A Cautious Welcome to Wales' then I suggest that Parc Cenedlaethol Eryri start charging people to get into the area. A ticket booth just outside Llanberis and Capel Curig might just do the trick with the same amount charged to enter the area of outstanding natural beauty as they charge to enter the area of British Wales in the South. Where amongst the tackiness of Beddgelert they will find to put the Southern Toll Booth is anybody's guess. This might all sound very defensive and passive aggressive dahling and whilst I don't want to deprive anybody of their fun, something must be done or future generations will be asking
"Pam ffwc wnaethoch chi gwerthu allan/mas?"
Indeed!
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