Out and about

After the summer September somehow seems a very much "back to the desk" month (there's certainly plenty to catch up on at it!) but I've been at two very interesting book launches this month. One conjured up a very different, mythical world, the other was literally very much down to earth.

"The Land of Lost Things" is the sequel to the very popular "The Book of Lost Things" by John Conolly. With his Irish heritage, full of ancient folklore, he explores the recovery of Phoebe, a young girl involved in a car accident, through myth and legend. It's certainly a good read - as is, in a very different way, "Walking the Bones of Britain" by Christopher Somerville, the walking correspondent at The Times. Although his is the story of the rocks of which the UK is composed, in no way is it a dry geological textbook. He takes the reader on a fascinating journey from the ancient stones of the Isle of Lewis to the newest rocks on the south coast, never losing you on the way. He's also a poet of course, and his prose is a definite testament to that.

And it's also been good to take the opportunity for the odd day out to continue photographing places that will feature in my forthcoming Welsh tales book. There are many places in Wales that lay claim to Arthurian legends. Was Caerleon the site of Camelot? Is Ynys Enlli (Bardsey Island)  really Avelon? Only a couple of miles from where I live there's a series of caves in a hillside - and one, where a very tall skeleton was unearthed in the early nineteenth century, rejoices under the name of King Arthur's cave. Whether or not it has any Round Table connections, it certainly has some atmosphere and it doesn't take much imagination to people it with knights of old and courtly romancing in the woods ...

The warrior princess

Although I think we had the best of the summer in June, one or two days this month have provided some decent weather to take forward a project that I started a while ago but that's only just coming to completion. I wanted illustrations to accompany a collection of tales from Wales, stories based on myths, legends and historical events in the country's sometimes turbulent past; I decided to photograph as many locations as possible myself. A good excuse for some very pleasant days out too! Ten days ago we had a fascinating day in Kidwelly, exploring its castle and the surrounding area. At the foot of the drawbridge there is a memorial to Gwenllian, the warrior princess. My name is an anglicized version of hers and I've always felt an affinity with her! And below you can read a preview of her story (and that of another Welsh heroine) as it will appear in the forthcoming collection.

Why wait for the boys?

“Revenge for Gwenllian!” - for centuries the cry rang out as Welsh armies attacked English invaders. But who was Gwenllian and why did she need avenging? Like most Welsh women she was not backwards in coming forwards when there was a job to be done, never mind that the job was considered the preserve of the men – but she was to pay the same price as would a man for what she did.

Gwenllian ferch Gruffydd was the youngest of the eight children of the Prince of Gwynedd and his wife Angharad; she was born on Anglesey around 1100AD. She grew up to be a strong, determined – and very beautiful – young woman and eloped with Gruffyd ap Rhys, the Prince of Deheubarth, going on to bear him two daughters and six sons. Their home was at Dinefwr but the area was plagued by Norman invaders and the family frequently had to take to forests and mountainous strongholds for safety. From their hideouts Gwenllian (even when heavily pregnant) and Gruffyd would launch guerilla raids on the invaders, taking from them what they could and redistributing it to local families sorely in need after a series of bitter winters and poor harvests.

In 1136 England was embroiled in the political chaos that became known as “The Anarchy” with the succession being fought over by Mathilda and Stephen. With the reduced interference from over the border, there were concerted uprisings in several parts of Wales to recover lands that had been lost to the Marcher Lords. Gwenllian’s husband rode off to Gwynedd to seek support from her father and brothers to deal once and for all with their foes. Whilst her husband was away, however, news reached Gwenllian of further attacks on their land. She immediately set about raising an army herself and marched on Kidwelly, where she led her troops (which included two of her sons) into battle. Sadly they were hopelessly outnumbered and, despite valiant efforts, one of her sons was killed and she and her other son were taken prisoner. Despite the convention that a defeated ruler should be held to ransom rather than killed, both of them were executed on the battlefield. To this day the site is known as Maes Gwenllian, and the spring that rises there is said to have welled up as she was beheaded.

Gwenllian is the only known example of a medieval woman leading a Welsh army into battle. But whilst her bravery may have cost her her life, it inspired others to continue the rebellion. Gwent fighters attacked and slew the Norman lord controlling Ceredigion and when news of her death reached Gwenllian’s father and brothers in the north they marched on Llanfihangel, Aberystwyth and Llanbadarn and seized the towns. The patriotism of Gwenllian, the “Warrior Princess”, soon became, and remains, legendary.

Several centuries later a very different Welsh woman was to gain similar respect and veneration - not a noble woman this time but a cobbler’s wife from Fishguard. If you go to the town today you can visit Jemima Nicholas’s grave and see the commemorative tapestry worked to mark the two hundredth anniversary of what has become known as “the last invasion of mainland Britain", in the repulse of which Jemima played a memorable role.

In early 1797 fourteen hundred men sailed from Camaret in Revolutionary France to take part in a three pronged attack on Britain. One of the landings was to take place on the Pembrokeshire coast and the plan was that the invading force would march through South Wales to Bristol. However the 800 strong contingent landing at Llanwnda was poorly manned (consisting largely of convicts, Royalist prisoners and deserters) and poorly trained. Discipline seems to have broken down completely almost as soon as they were on the beaches and bands of French soldiers began attacking and looting local communities. Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Knox, the British officer stationed in the area, did not have adequate forces to deal with the situation however; reinforcements were mobilising under Lord Cawdor but they would take a couple of days to reach the north Pembrokeshire coast from his seat down at Stackpole in the south. Knox decided to abandon Fishguard to its fate.

In the ensuing panic in the town, Jemima Nicholas decided to take matters into her own hands. She was helped by a band of women armed with nothing more than pitchforks and local knowledge. One very useful bit of local knowledge was that a Portuguese ship had been wrecked off the coast a few weeks beforehand and the vessels' washed-up cargo of wine had found its way into most nearby homes. A woman of the world, Jemima no doubt had a good idea what state a lot of the French would be in. It must still have taken considerable courage however to leave the town, to seek out and round up a contingent of drunken invaders as she and her companions did, to march them back to Fishguard, incarcerate them in the church and guard them under lock and key until relieved of their duties by the astonished commander of the arriving reinforcements. The following day the French officer in charge of the invasion surrendered unconditionally at the Royal Oak tavern. Whilst it couldn’t be said that Jemima and her companions routed the French singlehanded, there’s no doubt that they helped to save the day.

Challenging times

Yet more radio silence, I'm afraid - another difficult few months with illness, a family death and one or two other traumas. I should be away now at the Eisteddfod but fate stepped in yet again with another bout of Covid, so I'm currently confined to quarters. I'm sincerely hoping this is going to be the last in the series of calamities though, and that life gets back on as even a keel as possible very soon.

There always have to be some positives though and the last couple of months have seen some publishing success, a "Highly Commended" for a poem in the Cheltenham Literature Festival GWN competition and an interesting (if completely knackering!) weekend course at Ty Newydd. As a Welsh learner I had read several books by Bethan Gwenas (below, with the author and broadcaster Sion Tomos Owen), but it was great to have her as a creative writing tutor. I do find writing in a language is a really useful way to learn and really embed it - though I'm pretty sure that at this stage none of my resulting attempts in Welsh would get a "highly commended" anywhere!

Correspondence with the past

Well, I certainly spoke too soon in that last post about technology and health issues! How dependent we are on both being obligingly functional - and how frustrating life becomes when they're not. But here's looking forward to an upturn with the spring ...

One real positive last month, though, was a visit to Gardd Newydd, a centre in Lampeter for Welsh learners. I belong to the Clwb Cardiau Post (The Postcard Club) which encourages learning through correspondence with other learners and Welsh speakers. Needless to say, I've always preferred pen and paper to technology! And the art of letter writing, whilst not as flourishing as it once was, certainly isn't dead - I love getting correspondence literally in my hand and enjoy keeping in touch with friends all over the world that way. 

On our weekend in Lampeter we had a visit to the National Library in Aberystwyth where they have the most amazing postcard collection, dating from a hundred and more years ago. It was fascinating to see the cards sent from all parts of Wales to all parts of the globe - and to read the messages that they carried with them. Little did those folks realise, visiting Wales for work or leisure, how their words would be read so widely decades later. Fragments of immortality. And I found that so many of the messages lent themselves to resurrection, to recycling in prose or verse as "found" pieces. The only thing changed in the following (a compilation of two postcard messages from a century ago) is the punctuation. I'm still trying to picture the individuals involved!

Well old girl, how are you?

I have put off writing -

I feel horribly ashamed of myself.

Have they gone?

I am sorry I did not see you.

I should like to meet you

at the same old place.

Could you stay a few days?

I would be so glad of you coming.

I am alive,

nothing more,

not even kicking.

(Anon and Anon)

Moving into Spring

With writing, as with so many other creative ventures, some projects seem to arrive almost "oven ready" (to borrow a certain politician's favourite phrase!), while others only materialise after a long period in a slow cooker. I'm currently working on one in that latter category. At long last it's beginning to take shape, and in a way that shape has quite surprised me. Years ago ago I was told to "listen to your characters", to "follow where your story takes you" - advice that's held good ever since and certainly holds good here. However at some point you perhaps have to rein the story in a bit - no story is ever truly finished, but its telling on paper has to have a conclusion. At the moment I'm tugging on the reins though I don't quite know where I'll come to a stop!

But after almost two months of ongoing technology issues and family illness, things are (if I dare to say it!) a little more on an even keel. During that time Spring appears to have sprung, with the snowdrops already going over and daffodils and crocuses in full bloom; the evenings are starting to draw out and the garden is beginning to make a take over bid for the house. But deadlines have also come and gone so gardening will certainly have to take its place in the queue here ...

At this time of year I always feel that things begin to look up on the more social side of writing life too. The first of the events on the Abergavenny Writing Festival takes place this weekend and the Cheltenham Poetry Festival is just around the corner. For a group of people who spend much of their time working in isolation, these opportunities to meet up with like-minded others, to talk about and to celebrate what we do, are, I feel, very important. Writing groups have always been integral to my writing life; for a variety of reasons, after a great ten years of membership, I'm no longer able to continue with Catchword in Cirencester. It's certainly been the most supportive group I've worked with, and I'll really value my ongoing informal contact with the other members.