Book of the Month

Ivor Wynne Jones, the author of this book, is a former Liverpool Daily Post journalist who clearly doesn't like Welsh nationalists much or Saunders Lewis at all. The occasional pro-unionist prejudices do nothing to diminish the value of the book, however, which is full of interesting facts and original research about the activities of the security services in wartime Wales and the stories of Welsh born collaborators in Germany and elsewhere. There are some minor factual lapses, the Welsh Republican Movement of the 1950s and the Welsh Socialist Republicans of the 1980s were not the same organization, for example.

The book lists the names and addresses of all 156 individuals who appeared on the Home Office's Welsh Suspect List, a list of individuals under secret MI5 surveillance at various times during the war. Nearly two thirds of the names are foreign born; Italian cafe owners, the German wives of British subjects, Franco supporting Spaniards etc. There are a number of bar room bores and others reported by members of the public for expressing pro-Hitler sentiments. Only four leading Welsh Nationalists appear together with a handful of members of the British Union of Fascists. All in all a pretty unimpressive effort by the security services.

One name on the list has Radnorshire connections, Philip Huddleston Wharton of Llandudno was born in Llanddewi, Radnorshire in 1897. His English born father had a deck chair hiring business, although the family had moved to North Wales by 1901. Wharton was denounced by neighbours for listening to the German radio and praising Hitler and Mussolini, his mother, by the way, was born in Nantmel parish.

Much of the rest of the book consists of interesting research into Germany's Welsh National Radio station and Welsh speaking collaborators such as Guardsman Bill Griffiths and the mysterious RAF sergeant Raymond Davies Hughes. The double agent Arthur Owens and Hess's Welsh connections are also covered. All in all a book that covers some little known aspects of Welsh history and well worth reading, if you can find a copy.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 27

There are some fine elements in this praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Rhys ap Phelpod of Brilley and Mallt vz Ieuan of Bryncoch, Llansantffraid yn Elfael. The description of the hearth at the beginning and the description of the arduous duties of the bard are particularly good.

N0. 146. Praise of Rhys ap Phelpod and Mallt vz Ieuan

In Brilley there is a hearth
That provides gold and food for all,
A hearth heaped with warm ash,
Built high with slow burning oak.
A baby’s cradle, free from cold,
A table of charcoal between two cosy walls;
An altar of peat upon the floor,
A fire from an ash wood.
So very warm, this square fortress,
A great bed of charcoal and embers,
A hearth between four flagstones,
With twenty slates in its floor;
A banner shaped like a flitch,
A pen of fire on a fair floor.
The smoke of heaven in a carved stone enclosure.
It is manna within a hall.
Stone like the hearth of Rheged,
Very pale rocks in a warm castle.
The oak light of Urien’s home
Has been kindled in a blessed household.

A bard’s blessing, it is so beautiful,
This is the blessing I give.
Two hearths better than Dublin,
For our tongue’s sake have become one:
A hearth of Kington, one of our tongue,
A hearth of Bryncoch once more,
A hearth of Phelpod from the vale,
A hearth for a falcon of Elfael’s land,
And two like them, by the Holy God,
Hold the two hearths.
The Roland of Brilley, a defender,
Generous Rhys, an unassuming man,
You are the swan of Phelpod ap Rhys,
And his hart, an emperor from John.
Your custom, Rhys, while it be summertime,
To honour the most authoritative,
And Mahallt, the gem from Ieuan,
Gives clothing to the weak cripples.
Ieuan ap Cadwgan has been
The brave dragon of Emrys for Wales;
You and his daughter shall both
Be well filled with cheerfulness.
You are happy from the height of nobility,
Happy is Mallt pouring mead.

My office Rhys, to bring levity
To your court, Rhys, for an age to come.
To have the best ale in my hand
And to care for your mazer-cup,
To kiss, six hundred times,
The rim of the sparkling bell,
To wait upon it during the feast,
Caring for its lid and its carousal,
To have more gold than I merit,
And to dine in your court.
My blessing, Rhys, to you,
But to Mallt, the blessing of my God.
You are two who make me welcome,
And one despite giving a score of gifts.
Your old family have had two hearts
And one of them would seem like eight,
And your sons and your grandchildren,
And those to be born to them,
And every grandchild of your great grandchildren
Shall govern the houses of this hearth.

In Auntie's Vaults

It's well worth having a dig around the BBC's experimental on-line archives. Brian Johnston interviewing Innes Ireland for the 1st December 1960 Roundabout programme looks interesting. Here's the programme detail:

Ireland describes how he took up the sport - his father owned a garage - and lists his other sporting interests. His first full racing season was in 1957. He is married, with a small daughter, and lives in the Welsh mountains. He is usually nervous before a race. He feels that one of his best wins was at Goodwood earlier in the year, when he beat Stirling Moss in the Formula I event.

The bit about his father owning a garage is news to me - a misunderstanding on the part of the transcriber I would guess.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 26

This praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi is addressed to Rhys ap Gruffudd of Glascwm. The leading bardic patrons in Elfael Uwch Mynydd all seem to be descended from the Deheubarth descent group Rhys ap Tewdwr, a number of whose patriarchs are mentioned here. This poem is interesting in that it shows that the Ulster hero Cu Chulainn was known in fifteenth century Radnorshire.

No 153. Praise of Rhys ap Gruffudd

On Easter day I'd go into Glasgwm,
To Rhys of the heavy ash spear,
The dear son, there in the two lands of Elfael,
Of Gruffudd, his body was generosity.
The grandson of Cadwgan with his ash tree
Will win the whole wide world.
The Huail of Hywel ap Meilyr,
In his place he'll come to win land.
Yet through the summer, he did not speak
At all, except with care.
Quiet talk is to my taste,
Good and wise when it comes.
Quiet and wise and sweet
Is all that Rhys speaks.
A wise man has spoken fairly
Three words that pierced a rock.
The occasional word in every Assembly
Is all that Rhys speaks.
One of his words in passion,
Count for two fair words or three.
Words that became his good poem
To all who were there.

He never quarrelled with anyone,
For his part, he never seeks contention;
But should they seek contention,
Rhys would do more than his share.
Rhys Michell was the same
In the overthrow of the great earls of Deheubarth.
Rhys Gryg, the finest Rhys of Christendom
Was feared in the land of Dyfed;
In a time that is know
This Rhys will follow them.
Rhys ap Tewdwr, fom his household,
Gave gold minted from his mould;
Generous Rhys from the border of broad Elfael
Gives silver this very hour.
I would suggest that there is none like him
For generosity, no-one compares;
The equal of all, despite the cost,
And better will be the gold from his hand.
Better than an earl, by the power of Non!
Better than a duke, the line of Cadwgan.

Had I tongue of steel
To take a newly created language,
I could not sing swiftly
Half a word to him in song,
Had I, without delay,
A head of stone, even if it were marble,
It could not deliver what Rhys would pay,
Nor its half, to our domain.
The generous prefer that honest verse
Should be delivered before a man.
Truly Rhys loves the wine of Alsace,
And he shares it with those men who do,
Six different ales, upon the floor,
A great expense there'll be in Elfael;
Six times as generous as Cu Chulainn,
Even in ebb, is Rhys.
The man is good for three spirits,
Good with his ale to weak and poor.
Well he shares with the three isles,
God will share well with Rhys.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 25

Another praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi. Ieuan ap Philip rebuilt Cefnllys Castle in the Fifteenth Century. The bard compares Ieuan to various lawyers of the day and indeed his Welsh Law book is still preserved at the National Library in Aberystwyth. The whitewashed walls of Cefnllys must have been quite outstanding, sited on a hill and bounded on three sides by the River Ithon (see the old postcard) far below. The mention of uncovering a hearth is significant, it was a Welsh legal term by which the true proprietor regained an inheritance. The bard is saying that although Ieuan might hold this castle for the Duke of York, infact he is the proper ruler of this part of Wales.

No 170, Praise of Ieuan ap Philip and Angharad vz Ieuan of Cefnllys Castle

What better wall about a castle,
This fair wall like distant Gloucester?
A white castle within a circle of deep water,
An eight-sided castle above the curve of the Ithon,
A Greek citadel, set within twelve girdles,
The name of the place is Cefnllys.
This castle's name is found
In the great history of the Mortimers;
The largest castle where there are kindred,
It has its name and privileges in Brut.
It was indeed extinguished ,
A Tre-wen except for two small parts.

The masters of the laws of Swydd Ithon,
He has uncovered the hearth.
Ieuan, with all the strength of Christendom,
Son of Philip, dressed in velvet.
From the descent of Ifor, his grandfather,
Flow two lines from the Tordduaid.
I have called him, in the highest place,
A second justice from Elystan.
He talks, like John Milewater,
In Maesyfaidd about civil law.
The wisdom of old Dafydd Hanmer
In his speech or peroration,
He is our Burley, an Aberhale,
A lawyer like Merbury.
A Fitzwarine of Maelienydd,
A wise Fitzhenry of the trial day.

He has made on the lip of the Ithon,
A building like Sandal, an Anglesey.
Beli, lord of the blue sea,
Ordered the building of a city,
And Lludd repaired it, henceforth
Caer Ludd and the quarrel for it.
Ieuan, in the same manner,
Has made a wall of worked stone,
A palace made from lead work;
From the flesh of the ash he has made a city,
And his sons and grandchildren
From the eighteen streets of a city.

The cosy royal palace is unhealthy,
Good health is in the heights.
In the month of May, the mountain lark
Turns towards the heavens,
At the start of the summer the eagle
Is eager for the highest place.
Ieuan, who is under the seal,
Is a healthy hart on a high bank.

The words Non and Eigr are joined
In my mind with Angahard and her mead.
The golden moon of Ieuan
Son of Hywel, a pure lamp,
She descends from Elystan.
Could any of her sex be more generous?
It flows the bloodline of Madog Fychan,
along the pathway of descent to Beli and Bran.
Angharad, moon of the feast,
The very pinnacle of grace and nobility.

Ieuan shares the same foundation
As Tewdwr from his eight buildings.
Ieuan, he gave wealth and burnished gold,
Ieuan dispenses wine from gold,
And the Duke of York, in need of a man,
Has made him a receiver.
There never was a more able constable,
There never will be, as long as there is Christian faith.
There's never been, with his minted gold,
A better governor of a castle.

Merry Christmas, Look You

At least one regular reader of the blog is going to enjoy this clip.

Just click on "View this story" to see the video after you've opened the link, isn't it.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 24

This is another praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi composed for Rhys ap Sion and Elis Hol of Gladestry, perhaps on the occasion of the christening of their son. Llwythyfngwg was the name of the district in what became East Radnorshire in which the parish of Gladestry (in Welsh Llanfair Llwythyfnwg) is situated. I wonder if she was the Alice Holl of Old Radnor who contracted a secret marriage with Yevor ap Holl at Bryngwyn church in 1475?

Poem 162, Praise of Rhys ap Sion and Elis Hol

A good place for feasting, with no mean frown
On a winter's night in Llwythyfnwg.
I go, in the name of God and Mary,
To beg a fair judgement upon Gladestry.
In Gladestry, by Llawenfel,
There's money for me and pleasant honey,
The Ludlow ale has made me well,
The Weobley ale has made me completely fit.
Wine I've had with no surly refusal,
From eight havens in Llwythyfnwg,
And folk of true nobility
Treat me in the mead houses.
Rhys, son of Sion, where I would take myself,
Elis Hol at his side.

Sion, son of Einion, son of Hywel,
In terms of pounds he was the richest;
After Sion and his gifts, Rhys
Fills the Isle of Honey.
Elis Hol, before the voice of the generous,
I called her Elis Hael.
I know increase, like the honey of the swarm,
A word to a Mary of the Iforites.
Often many gifts were given to me,
Elis and Rhys gave them,
Many dinners at nines,
And many suppers at sevens,
Many a cape, the best of a hundred,
Many shirts, the colour of crucian,
Many gifts in the shape of gold,
Many wines, is the gold less?
I wrote, in Anglesey, a roll of
The names of the generous:
Within the roll is the name of Rhys,
Followed by the name of Elis.

A noble lamb to the men
Is Rhys, but against tyrants.
It is not easy to obtain
Any sullen payment from Rhys ap John.
In Maesyfaidd he is rooted,
And these roots, Rhys, give gifts,
Each root in its turn.
Rhys is the ash and the cherry tree,
An oak tree from the elders,
And its branches cover the countryside,
Every branch like the body of Pasgen
Wearing steel upon a white shoulder.

He came to the moon of Adam,
He came for the faerie wine.
The gracious blessing came to Rhys
As it stands for Elis Hol.
From whatever country, be they French or Irish,
From whatever land they come,
Elis says, "Rhys, give him this".
Rhys says, "Elis, don't stint".
The wisdom that Elis creates
Will come to her son many a month.
The word of Rhys is wise and witty,
The blessings of Rhys upon Morys his son.

Automobile Historique

A useful twelve page article on Innes in the July/August 2004 edition of the now sadly defunct French magazine Automobile Historique with pictures by an old friend of the Scotsman, Bernard Cahier. No doubt you can pick up a copy on Ebay.

Nelly Ridge-Jones

The Fourth of July 1908 saw women grace the new Brooklands track for the first time as Miss Muriel Thompson won the Ladies Bracelet Handicap from Mrs Locke King. Trailing at the back of the field on her brother Arthur's 17.5 horse power Sunbeam came Miss Nelly Ridge-Jones, daughter of London Welsh surgeon Thomas Ridge-Jones. Now Nelly may not be the most talented Welsh woman to take part in a motor-race but she must surely have been the first!

Book of the Month

Back in the late fifties eighteen year old Kevin Brownlow and sixteen year old Andrew Mollo started work on an ambitious film to portray a Britain that had been defeated by Hitler and was now ruled by the Blackshirts. Eight years and £7000 later they finished their film. This book tells the story of how It Happened Here was made and the controversy that surrounded its launch.

Part of the film was made in New Radnor and dozens of local people acted as extras, the leading role of Pauline Murray was also taken by a local woman, Mrs Jobson - the village doctor's wife.

This is a refreshing book and a fine companion to the DVD of the film. The film itself is one of the great war films, the fact that it was made by two young men for a pittance - the trailer for the American release cost more than the film itself! - a miracle.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 23

This wedding ode by Lewis Glyn Cothi was addresed to Hywel ab Ystyfn of New Radnor and Sioned Havard.

No 159 Wedding Ode to Hywel ab Ystyfn and Sioned Havard

Who are the roots of Maesyfaidd, who are generous?
The race of Elystan Glodrydd!
Hywel son of (He will be placed in the roll}
Ystyfn, from the ribcage of Dafydd.

A Dafydd, like the son of Llyr, chief of chieftains,
A second Llywelyn Crug Eryr,
A Philip Dorddu, cultured and dark,
His ancestors were these ancients.

Men who gave deliverence
And protection.
Hywel is the fifth
Of his race, just as generous,
His ardour as splendid,
His steel as brave,
His contenance as fair;
Better than any sheet,
Place around him
The cloak of Urien Rheged,
A blessed coat of mail,
Beli's steel helmet.
He is able in his doublet,
Assured in his jacket,
If his sallet is a sun,
His Corset is rock crystal.
Let his warhorse drive,
Let it slam into the battlefield,
Keeper of township and it's faith,
He makes peace.
I am Hywel's hound,
Bleating loudly,
I call, I sniff out
His trail of generosity.

Let him marry,
Two oaths and a shared honour,
Praise for their wedding
Is given to them,
Sioned's wisdom
Is the fruit of St Bride,
The picture of Luned,
Slim-browed in velvet,
Golden child of the Havards,
A planet in the heavens,
From birth she gave
Orange and claret.
Confident Hywel,
Who gives so generously;
On feast days they're seen,
I go in spite of drink,
The feasts of Mary and Margaret
Two choice Sundays.

A stag runs to the cliff,
A roebuck seeking sanctuary;
To the snug court's floor,
I, myself, come,
like the sea to an embankment,
Or water to Dyfed,
I come so peacefully
To a liberal fortress.
A lifetime wish them
With glory,
Let them multiply,
A ripe bulb.
Good for us like Dwned,
Drawing on doucet wine,
God for their goodness,
Make them the oldest in Christendom.

Hywel, let Faith embroider this marriage
To Sioned the daughter of Tomas;
Two roots within the same refuge,
And in the root, the gift of a shoot.

Dorothea Duff

I’ve posted before that Dorothea Duff is listed on the Mosleyite’s website as being a “racing driver” interned during the war along with other British Union fascists. A little research has brought a few more facts to light, although no details of her motoring career.

Dorothea Reynolds-Peyton was born in London in 1898 to a wealthy family of independent means. In 1920 she married Major Douglas Duff, a partnership that does not seem to have lasted very long. Mrs Duff then seems to have embarked on a life of adventure. She travelled in Tibet without obtaining the necessary permissions, learnt to fly and, perhaps most daringly of all, found employment as an able seaman. This made her something of a minor celebrity especially when she embarked on voyages to and from Australia on the four masted Finnish barque, Ponape.

Like Fay Taylour, Mrs Duff did not join the BUF until after the war had started. She then attracted the attention of the authorities with her efforts to bring together leading pro-German jew haters such as Mosley, Maule Ramsay and Domville in the anti-war movement. So nothing on Mrs Duff’s racing activities or her life after the war, she certainly seems the type of upper-class adventuress who would be attracted to the thrills and spills of the track.

Dubai 1981

Back in 1981, 4th December to be exact, Brummie promotor Martin Hone organised a race meeting in Dubai which included an all-star race for identical Citroen CXes. The race was won by Bruno Giacomelli with Mark Surer second - both were current F1 drivers at the time - with another young charger David Kennedy in third place. Fourth place went to, you've guessed it, a 51 year old Innes Ireland heading the likes of Watson and Tambay as well as fellow old timers Gurney, Moss, Salvadori, Brabham, Salvadori, Bell and Phil Hill. Forza Innes!

L. G. Hornsted

The motor sport world seems to have convinced itself that the holder of the world land speed record between 1914 and 1922, L. G. Hornsted, boasted the unusual forename Ligurd. No sign of him in the public records, although there is a Lydston G. Hornsted. It seems that Lydston was born in Russia circa 1884, the son of a Britsih vice-consul, and that the family name was originally Hornstedt. So is it Lydston or Ligurd?

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 22

A run of the mill praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to three brothers from the descent group of Meilyr o Ddiserth.

No. 149 Praise to the Three Sons of Dafydd ap Hywel

The three sons who yet improve,
No better three ever joined the host;
Three brothers like three eagles,
Three falcons, none more venturesome.
Bedo Chwith who owns the house,
Then generous Hywel y Fron,
And Ieuan Du, by the day!
The third authority of the three.
The rods of Hywel ap Meilyr,
A fair vine and earth’s increase,
A strong foundation for Elfael,
Fair saints, three generous pheasants,
Flowers, in a place where there is loyalty,
Fair Buallt, there is no better land.
By Melangell! There are no better
Young adventurers than these three men.

Three roads, a score of roads, I’ll take
To your homes from the furthest land:
The poet’s road, it runs straight
To the house of Bedo, through the countryside;
A road through the centre of Llys Colwyn
To the second lad and his kind expense;
Another road in the tracks of power
I know to the house of Ieuan Du;
A road I know by heart,
To the houses of the swans through Rhiwlen.
I strike out for the three sons of Dafydd
With the skill of a trained falcon in the forest.

Noah had three sons,
They were raised to be three eagles;
In Elfael there are three patrons,
Three branches which have been dressed,
And that land and the vale above
Are the third share of these three.
Three kings went to their feast
To Cologne, through yonder glen,
Three of equal rank bearing three gifts,
One of the three was fine old gold;
Three fine presents for a good person,
The weighty gold of these three.
Three wax candles will be placed
On the three arms of the Cross.
The three bucks of a generous great grandfather,
The three elements of the land of Elfael.
Teilo had three living bodies,
Without finish, between two sheets;
There are three bodies for one corporation
Over the gentle folk of Uwch Mynydd;
We see three fervent swans,
Three griffins, three strong wings,
Three apostles of Llys Colwyn
Three hands of mead, three gentle lions,
Three men, three good flowers,
Three oaks of a nobleman,
Three generous branches of Elfael and its men,
Three lifetimes for the three eagles.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 21

This interesting praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Bedo Coch of Rhayader describes an early form of plastic surgery.

No. 182. Praise to Bedo Coch

The brave one from about Rhaeadr Gwy,
Who draws blood from three wounds.
Bedo Coch, without sparing villeins,
Engrave your name once more in prophecy.
The estate of Maredudd rolls
To your hand among eight liberal lines;
The tax of Hywel Gethin
There with the other among nine liberal lines.
From the height of the line of Einion Llwyd
You were counted upon in warfare,
And your sires in Gwerthrynion
Loved single combat and justice.

It is not easy to light a fire
In the waves, and against nature,
No easier, face to face,
To overcome you with arms.
The essence of your being, Bedo,
A generous body that hates flight.
The most cowardly, the most vain in retreat,
Is wounded on the back of the neck,
And the bravest of all, for the sake of justice,
Straight in the face.
From your courage,
like that of a martyr,
A cut has been opened on your face;
So, like the work of Afallach,
Heavenly teachers make you well.
God has sent, with the Holy Ghost,
His shield and ointment to you.
Ptolemaeus long, long ago,
Was your doctor so James says.
Hippocrates, an honest fellow,
But best of all the work of Rhiwallon.

The skill of Doctor Ieuan’s son
Dwells like gold upon your cheek.
Gruffydd’s orthography is good,
A graceful indentation from cheek to teeth,
A letter above the jawline,
A golden S to charm us.
It was soldered, no-one has sown it,
A silken web across your face.
A cement like an enamel cross,
God’s signet on your forehead.
Son of Maredudd, it is as if
The scar on your cheek is gilded;
Dabbed with angelic ointment
Made from frankincense and myrrh.
From the prayers of the twelve,
And by God’s miracle, a beautiful scar.

From now on your life will be healthier,
Bedo stay for four lifetimes.
Your forehead is carefree,
Unworried by any treason,
Without care, without pain,
Without halt, without sickness;
Without refusal to anyone
Your face is without blemish.

Spooks

So which one did you fancy, the blonde one or the brunette? No, not Agnetha or Anni-Frid, for back in the early sixties this question could just as easily have been asked about Christine Keeler and that minx from Pontiets, Mandy Rice-Davies.

Now there is a motor racing connection of sorts to the Profumo affair, for just as the scandal was about to break Miss Keeler was whisked away to Madrid in a plane piloted by “racing driver” Paul Mann. At least that’s what the papers called him, although no-one now seems to recall a driver of that name. Some sources claim that Mann worked for MI5.

This reminds me that it’s said that Jock Horsfall - the MI5 officer killed at Silverstone in 1949 - used his battered Ford transporter to carry the body of “Captain Martin” - in reality Welsh vagrant Glyndwr Michael - to a submarine at Holy Loch. Perhaps you remember the film The Man Who Never Was about this successful attempt to mislead the Germans into thinking there would be an invasion of Sardinia.

Rebecca in Radnorshire

Here's a report of the Rebecca rioters in 1840's Rhayader. In the main Rebecca's activities in Radnorshire were concentrated in those parishes that were still mainly Welsh speaking in the mid-nineteenth century - Cwmteuddwr, Rhayader, St Harmons, Llanwrthwl (OK so it's in Breconshire) and much of Nantmel and Llanyre.

It's as well to remember the causes of these actions. For example a ton of coal cost 16 shillings in Brecon but in order to transport it to Rhayader a total of 9 shillings would have to be paid in tolls. It wasn't as if the Trusts used the tolls they collected to improve the roads, in many cases the local population had to mend the roads at their own expense just to keep them passable.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems. 20

This praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Hywel ap Rhydderch and Annes Aubrey suggests to me that they lived in what locals now call the Mount, above the churchyard in Aberedw. I believe that many of what are described as sites of motte and bailey castles in Radnorshire were in fact re-used as fortified houses in the fifteenth century.

No. 148 Praise to Hywel ap Rhydderch and Annes Aubrey

The fond husband, the over generous wife,
A fair centrestone in Elfael.
The gifts of Hywel ap Rhydderch
He gives me with his loving words;
Annes Aubrey’s gifts of silver
And her ale cause benefit.
Oh God, good their store
Of invitations for a musician.

Hywel, who serves the mead,
Has a name above descent and nobility;
The descent of the lion above the churchyard
Is that of Hywel Fychan;
The descent of Elystan, more than the eighth part,
Even more, the descent of Rhys Michell.
The descent of Annes Aubrey of Brycheiniog,
Generosity that lasts for an age.
God created her from
The heart and ribs of Gw’ater Sais.

Within an old manuscript roll
I found these memories,
They’re had from Rhydderch Hael himself
And from his wife Arddun, the words of a poem;
Ifor Hael and Efa since then,
From the land, were the second couple;
Dafydd in his cywydd
Gave this name to them.
Hywel and Annes, in Elfael,
Were closer to Holy God.
Let their generosity be praised,
The young stag and his maid.

In the orbit of the star of Venus,
Every two stars will be many;
There are many silver coins for me,
Like showers, in the parish of Cewydd.
Bread and corn are as common
In Blaen Edwy as in the Wye vale;
An upright table full of every drink,
White bread, the best work of the bee.
Is bragget not the drink of the house,
Made with the first drawing of Weobley ale?
Hywel, by Derfel, is a father
From the generous of the south lands;
Annes, the daughter of Morgan, is a mother
Of the goodness of the blameless wives.
Hywel is St Elien
And Annes is St Gwen.
Hywel is the generous wine from the wood
And Annes is the vine.
Hywel is gold in the house of feasting,
Annes is gold of the same value.
Two in the peaks of Uwch Mynydd,
Two who are good for meals.
Good Hywel, an angel of plenty,
Annes, too, is so good.
Dewi and his mother bless him,
Let God himself bless her.

Book of the Month

Now I can't say I'm very interested in speedway but I am interested in pre-war Brooklands lady racers and also in the parallels between that alliance of left wingers, upper class anti-semites, fascists and pacifists who opposed the Second World War and their intellectual descendants in the present day anti-war movement. A biography of Fabulous Fay is therefore a must-read for me, although it has to be said that this book concentrates on her earlier speedway career and not her motor racing exploits or her pro-Hitler politics. A second volume covering her post-speedway life is promised.

This first volume is very well researched and well written. It held the attention of even this non-speedway buff. There is nothing as good as this about any pre-war Brooklands racer. male or female.