"I was set down from the carrier's cart at the age of three; and there with a sense of bewilderment and terror my life in the village began.
The June grass, amongst which I stood, was taller than I was, and I wept. I had never been so close to grass before. It towered above me and all around me, each blade tattooed with tiger-skins of sunlight. It was knife-edged, dark, and a wicked green, thick as a forest and alive with grasshoppers that chirped and chattered and leapt though the air like monkeys. I was lost and didn't know where to move. A tropic heat oozed up from the ground, rank with sharp odours of roots and nettles. Snow-clouds of elder-blossom banked in the sky, showering upon me the fumes and flakes of their sweet and giddy suffocation. High overhead ran frenzied larks, screaming, as though the sky were tearing apart."
Spent the day out today, went to Stroud to visit a little village called Slad, where Laurie Lee who wrote "Cider with Rosie" came from. I met him a few times at the local pub, "The Woolpack" when I was studying English...and his "Rosie" book. Nice bloke, I have signed copies somewhere about, I wanted to be a rock star in those days and he signed "To Doug may you make Top of the Pops"...happier days they were.
Laurie is buried in the churchyard in a lovely spot overlooking the beautiful Slad valley, his gravestone reads, "He lies in the valley he loved" which I think is wonderful.
If you ever get chance to read one of his novels or some of his poetry, take the time to visit this place and you'll get a feeling for what he was all about, his lyrical prose is so deeply rooted in this place.
Had an e mail from the editor of Urban75 ezine no less, who had a couple of Back to the 70's and Cardiff related stories which some viewers might enjoy.
I really liked the Thin Lizzy one, so thank you Mike Slocombe!!
The 3 staples of 70's schoolboy hygiene: Brut 33, Denim and Blue Stratos!!
Brut was your first inroads into fragrances for men, the one you first splashed all over...literally all over! Advertised by Henry Cooper at first then, my hero, Barry Sheen (a real ladies man he was too) it was the every day choice for teenage boys in the seventies. Morning regime...alarm goes off, out of bed, into bathroom, brush teeth, spray liberally with Brut, get dressed, breakfast then school.
Denim came along a little bit later in my memory, and became the middle of the road choice, the one for family 'get togethers' where you wanted to appear grown up, but had no one to really impress...also good for after games lessons and that 5 second run through shower. This became a staple gift from aunties across the country as of Christmas '79.
Then came Blue Stratos!.......Blue Stratos was the Daddy of them all:
"Blue Stratos is one of the famous masculine fragrances, a classic which features as a landmark FOUGERE fragrance in the industry 'bible' the H&R Genealogy of masculine fragrances.The Fougere fragrance concept is based upon the interplay between lavender and oak moss. Originally this perfume accord was intended to serve as a contribution to feminine fragrance creations. However, over time it came to be used more and more as an ingredient in masculine creations and is acknowledged to have underwritten many key developments within masculine fragrance, including the Blue Stratos fragrance in 1976"
This was the one you kept for the REALLY SPECIAL occasions..you saved it for the school Christmas disco, or for when you had double English sat next to that girl in 4R you fancied...or most of all for that crucial first date!
I bought all of these on line last year for a few fragrance nostalgia moments, and in fact I have requested some Brut for my up and coming birthday along with a couple of Bond (Connery) DVDs. They still smell good, and fragrances like no other part of our senses are finely tuned for nostalgia.
Other contenders we all remember are Burley, Old Spice, Hi Karate and even Mandate (hehehe what a hidden meaning that one has!) but none really broke the top three hold on our teenage years. It's time for a return to old values, and its a time for a return to old smells too!
White Christmases a thing of the past?? Well it makes you wonder doesn't it. Sitting here in my centrally heated home, looking out onto the foggy chill of recent days put me in mind of a search for winters past. I always enjoyed winters, Oct-Dec 'cos Christmas is coming, and January 'cos my birthday was coming. I had a little look on the net and found this neat site: The history of British winters and this one: British Winter Snowfall Events 1875-2004. Just to prove to myself that yes it did snow in the winter when I was a kid.
I used to live in a house that looked over a place we called The Quarry, but which was playing fields (I remember when all this was fields!!!), but not flat, more like a hillside. My bedroom, a box-room, was at the front of the house, and my view over the Quarry was almost a full 180. We had storage heaters in the house, but not in my room, so there would often be frost inside the window when I woke up on winter mornings. It was bitterly cold in there, the nightly routine of hot drink and hot water bottle will be familiar to some. I would then curl up at the bottom of the bed, head tucked in, and warm that little area with my breath, before extending my legs a little until I slowly moved up to full stretch and a fully warmed bed.
Anyway, when it snowed I would stare out of the window from my bed and watch as the world turned from green to white, watch the world suddenly start to look neat and unsullied, watch the smoke rise from the chimneys and look at the warm heated glow of the coal fire-lit windows of the houses around. It was lovely.
I have always loved snow, not just for the sheer childish joy of the fun and games, but because of the beautiful whitewash it gives the world around. For a few days each year the world looked clean and new and untouched.
Here are some details of my winters past ('65-'85 the years I mainly cover here) from the above named site:
1965-66: The second half of November saw snow in most areas. The next lot came a bit later, late January, in Eastern parts. February, the turn of the North East. April was surprising though, as heavy falls were recorded, exceptionally heavy in parts of Northern England, where up to 1 foot was found! Mid April saw more snow, with 5 inches in the South. Quite remarkable late falls, but other than that, not a spectacular winter as that of 62-63! Still regarded as snowy though I would say.
1968-70: The first of these 2 winters saw snow in late December, around the New Year, in Eastern Scotland and England. Eastern Yorkshire saw a massive 16 inches! Mid February saw more snow, this time more to the West, with England and Wales seeing the most. Mid March saw more in the Pennines, and a TV mast fell down. 69-70 saw snow for Northern England, North Wales, and Scotland in mid November. Mid December saw snow for the North again. Mid February, most parts, and early March, snow in Wales and England, with the Midlands getting 12 inches.
1970-76: Little snow for 6 winters! Ring any bells?! Very similar pattern to the 90s-early 00s, ending the snow drought with a hot summer (76 / 03!) when the snow returned for 1976...
1976-77: Heavy wet snow fell in early December, mid December, and mid January. Mid January also saw some good coverings though, up to 6 inches lying at times.
1977-78: Mid January, 6 foot drifts! A week later, and 4 inches fell. Mid February saw 4 inches also. Late January, heavy snow in Scotland, drifting, 28 inches falling in parts! Mid February (see above) was very snowy in the North East, East and South West. February 11th had 1 ft in Durham and Edinburgh. Feb. 15-16th South West England, blizzard with huge drifts, sounds like my cup of tea!
1978-79: Late December falls of 6-7n inches in Southern Scotland and the North East started it off. It was very cold in parts. Mid February saw drifts of 6-7 feet on the East coast of England. Mid March had severe blizzards and drifting, in North Eastern England drifts reached a staggering 15 feet! Very snowy.
1981-82: Mid December, South West and Southern England seeing 12 inches. North East England getting 7 inches, with 6 foot drifts. 2 days later (20th December) Northern England got 7 inches, and 6 foot drifts. Mid January, there was general snow, with a cover of 1-2 feet in parts. Snowy, and very cold.
1984-85: Very cold and snowy, especially in Southern England. It was a very cold winter. Early January, there was snow in Eastern England. Mid January, East Anglia and Kent getting the goods, with 6 inches falling here. Mid January, South West England and South Wales (yippee!). Late January seeing snow in Scotland, and the prone spots, such as Aviemore, getting 2ft of level snow, Northern Britain as a whole affected though. Mid February, Southern England, 6-12 inches, substantial drifting taking place. 29th March gave Scotland snow. A memorable year. Snowy.
"He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile.
When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever - in case I need him. And I expect I will - as I always have. He is just my dog."
Christmas songs....its the rock and pop ones i'm referring to here. I have a theory that the last great era for Christmas songs was the early eighties. I was in the sixth form in 81, '82, '83, and seem to remember a vast influx of yuletide tunes, Wham, Jona Lewie, Shaking Stevens, Band Aid, Chris de Burgh...added to the usual John and Yoko, Slade and Wizzard. Some of them still stand the test of time. Sure, they are a little "twee" but they are part of my history, and when they come on the radio, or I slip on the Christmas Hits cds, the memories come flooding back, of late teenage Christmas's: broken hearts, drunken family parties and even some good old snow. They are good memories. Memories of the last vestiges of innocence before the true nature of the world revealed itself in all its murkiness.
Not for me are all Christmas songs actual festive compositions, Eagles' "Heartache Tonight"and Queen's "Crazy Little Thing Called Love", Ian Dury's "Hit me with your Rhythm Stick" and ELO's "Cant Get it out of my Head" are all songs that hit my tender spot in the festive season and they still hold true today as "Christmas" songs too.
A really good Christmas song, however, can carry memories and last forever.
My first really great Christmas song was "Ring Out Solstice Bells", which I bought as a 7" EP, (which apparently goes for a few bob now...I saw one copy for £30!!) That one has stayed as a favourite, and is definitely in my top 2, nipping and tucking with Greg Lake's "I Believe in Father Christmas" which strangely I never bought, until a few years ago.
It's nice to look at this old Top of the Pops video, another part of my youth now dead and gone, somehow it goes so well, so typically seventies....
"...Solstice Bells" exudes a quintessential English folk feel that Tull will ever be known for, undoubtedly seasonal without the traditional clichés except for a few bells at the finale. Check out this animated movie set to the song, which puts into mind the whole atmosphere of the song.
"Now is the solstice of the year. winter is the glad song that you hear. Seven maids move in seven time. Have the lads up ready in a line.
Ring out these bells. Ring out, ring solstice bells. Ring solstice bells.
Join together 'neath the mistletoe, by the holy oak whereon it grows. Seven druids dance in seven time. Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
Ring out these bells. Ring out, ring solstice bells. Ring solstice bells.
Praise be to the distant sister sun, joyful as the silver planets run. Seven maids move in seven time. Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming.
Ring out these bells. Ring out, ring solstice bells. Ring solstice bells. Ring on, ring out. Ring on, ring out."
The other top Christmas song is Greg Lake's "I Believe in Father Christmas" which for me recalls many personal memories of childhood Christmases: finding out there's no Santa after all, seeing a world around that continues to blindly maim and murder despite all the promises of the seasonal goodwill, and of course, the fact that it just keeps on raining and it never bloody snows! All this wrapped in a beautifully arranged version of Prokofiev's Troika from Lieutenant Kije, again seasonal without the clichés, and wonderfully atmospheric. Strangely for some people the video was a composite of desert scene and real life war film footage, but nothing better than to present the viewer with the hypocrisy of the modern Christmas.
The audio is quiet on the above version so check this one out with the different visuals:
They said there'll be snow at Christmas They said there'll be peace on earth But instead it just kept on raining A veil of tears for the virgins birth I remember one Christmas morning A winters light and a distant choir And the peal of a bell and that Christmas tree smell And their eyes full of tinsel and fire
They sold me a dream of Christmas They sold me a silent night And they told me a fairy story till I believed in the Israelite And I believed in father Christmas And I looked at the sky with excited eyes till I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn And I saw him and through his disguise
I wish you a hopeful Christmas I wish you a brave new year All anguish pain and sadness Leave your heart and let your road be clear They said there'll be snow at Christmas They said there'll be peace on earth Hallelujah, Noel, be it heaven or hell The Christmas you get you deserve
I dedicate one post every year to the memory of a very special part of my life, which is lost but never forgotten. Three years ago on Dec 15th the most wonderful little chap in the world, my dog Cal left us. I hope one day to be with him again. He was a very good dog, I miss you fella, sleep well, see you in the morning.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; his eager body begins to quiver. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together ...
We have a secret, you and I, That no one else shall know, For who, but I can see you lie, Each night, in fireglow? And who but I can reach my hand Before we go to bed, And feel the living warmth of you And touch your silken head? And only I walk woodland paths, And see, ahead of me, Your small form racing wit the wind, So young again, and free. And only I can see you swim In every brook I pass. And, when I call, no one but I Can see the bending grass.
Ok, strange one this. I make this post because my mum reminded me yesterday that it was on the day of the Aberfan disaster - 21st October 1966 that Mum and Dad moved us from Pontypool to Cardiff, with myself a baby in a pram, and my four year old sister.
It's a shocking story - Aberfan, especially for those of us in Wales close to the event. My grandfather drove there on the day with blankets to help.
Please take some time to visit this site or one of the many others that cover the tragic story, and learn about the greed of the mine managers and the appalling attitude that the government has had to the victims of the Aberfan disaster ever since.
"At 9.15 am on Friday, October 21, 1966 a waste tip slid down a mountainside into the mining village of Aberfan, near Merthyr Tydfil in South Wales. It first destroyed a farm cottage in its path, killing all the occupants. At Pantglas Junior School, just below, the children had just returned to their classes after singing All Things Bright and Beautiful at their assembly. It was sunny on the mountain but foggy in the village, with visibility about 50 yards. The tipping gang up the mountain had seen the slide start, but could not raise the alarm because their telephone cable had been repeatedly stolen. (The Tribunal of Inquiry later established that the disaster happened so quickly that a telephone warning would not have saved lives.) Down in the village, nobody saw anything, but everybody heard the noise. Gaynor Minett, an eight-year-old at the school, remembered four years later: It was a tremendous rumbling sound and all the school went dead. You could hear a pin drop. Everyone just froze in their seats. I just managed to get up and I reached the end of my desk when the sound got louder and nearer, until I could see the black out of the window. I can't remember any more but I woke up to find that a horrible nightmare had just begun in front of my eyes. The slide engulfed the school and about 20 houses in the village before coming to rest. Then there was total silence. George Williams, who was trapped in the wreckage, remembered that 'In that silence you couldn't hear a bird or a child'.
144 people died in the Aberfan disaster: 116 of them were school children. About half of the children at Pantglas Junior School, and five of their teachers, were killed. So horrifying was the disaster that everybody wanted to do something. Hundreds of people stopped what they were doing, threw a shovel in the car, and drove to Aberfan to try and help with the rescue. It was futile; the untrained rescuers merely got in the way of the trained rescue teams. Nobody was rescued alive after 11am on the day of the disaster, but it was nearly a week before all the bodies were recovered. "
This is where I spent 80% of my childhood. Summers were hot, winters were cold. Remember when the climate did what it was supposed to do? Wish it was like that now, seems like it's just rain, rain, rain these days, and hard to tell one season from the other.
The rocks here were where I learned to climb, and scrape my knees and test my courage trying to tackle the "witches nose" a sticky out rock bit that was really tricky, you proved yourself by climbing across onto it then sitting there. I did it once, I was 8 years old. Life was so much simpler then
They called it the Quarry, not sure if there ever was a quarry site here, but roads got named after it. I lived along this road til I was 14, and bought my first house near there 20 years later.
I had wonderful memories of it as a kid, but when I was older and walked my dog here it had all changed, teenage kids sat on the new swings installed (cos kids cant make their own games these days) and smoked and drank cider and smashed bottles on the path.
The people had changed, gone were the wonderful neighbourly types, replaced by antisocial arseholes with superiority complexes. I hated living there as a grown up, and was never happier than the day we moved away. Sad really.
Summers were filled with 8 hour football games, played out on sloping pictures kicking plastic footballs kicked through t shirt goalposts. I also remember orange squash, my Man utd shirt, hayfever, sunburnt legs & calomine lotion, making grass blades whistle between your thumbs, sliding on cardboard boxes on the dried grass slopes, bazooka joe gum, cola bottles, dandelion and burdock, sardines on toast for dinner (lunch) I also remember laughing and being happy.
I was 17 when we had this great snowfall in Cardiff. These photos I stole of the BBC website, sorry if its a problem, but I doubt anyone is going to read this from there!
I should have been revising for my lower sixth January exams when this snowfall hit just around new years if I remember correctly. I think it was probably the last great snowfall of my youth. I had discovered wine, women and song, lots of the former, plenty of the latter and very little of the middle one considering I'd just been introduced to the delights of "Dumpsville", my innocent age was nearly over. I remember the cars on Newport Rd being brought to a standstill, I remember cleaning the drive for my mum and dad, and there are somewhere pictures of me taken with mums Polaroid camera, her gift from Dad for xmas that year.
"I was set down from the carrier's cart at the age of three; and there with a sense of bewilderment and terror my life in the village began.
