It is funny how things are connected sometimes. I spent Sunday morning browsing books in Borders with the lovely Pippa and J. I met these folk through attending a Cordell festival and Pippa was the one who introduced me to Kate Rusby aka the girl who couldn't fly, who also sang the song my young man - which is right up there on the list of the saddest songs I have ever heard.
From a lazy morning to an active afternoon where I eventually ended up at Cefn Coed Colliery Museum. I have pictures, but it means getting up for me to add them now - maybe tomorrow and I'll do the links too. Wandering round blogspace this evening, I visited a fave blog of mine - downshifting path- and she has a post up about the coal house, the prog that BBC Wales are running. And incidentally has a little you tube clip of said my young man song, which, also incidently, was the song I sung in the arts festival in Blaenafan in April. So, connections you see?
My dad was born in 1927 and of course I remember his mother, my nanna, telling me stories of the 1926 strike. I remember myself the miners strike in the eighties and the collossal unemployment and depression that followed in its wake when Thatcher closed Britain's industries down. These events are then very real to me because of the stories and mental pictures I have of them.
It is something that gets me sickeningly angry, the way things do when there is no way to rectify them. Britain used to have an industry, now we have industrial heritage. Dont get me wrong, there is nothing romantic about mining, scoliosis, malformed backs and blind pit ponies. My dad preferred the Palestinian War to going back down the pit (which he first went down at the age of fourteen). He hailed his national service call up with great relief and stayed in the army for many years. But the fact remains that Wales and the rest of Industrial Britain was taken for everything it had and then dropped and left for dead when deemed of no further use. Leaving communities staggering or gutted, relying on benefit and loan sharks.
...I wonder if the Beeb will show that?
From a lazy morning to an active afternoon where I eventually ended up at Cefn Coed Colliery Museum. I have pictures, but it means getting up for me to add them now - maybe tomorrow and I'll do the links too. Wandering round blogspace this evening, I visited a fave blog of mine - downshifting path- and she has a post up about the coal house, the prog that BBC Wales are running. And incidentally has a little you tube clip of said my young man song, which, also incidently, was the song I sung in the arts festival in Blaenafan in April. So, connections you see?
My dad was born in 1927 and of course I remember his mother, my nanna, telling me stories of the 1926 strike. I remember myself the miners strike in the eighties and the collossal unemployment and depression that followed in its wake when Thatcher closed Britain's industries down. These events are then very real to me because of the stories and mental pictures I have of them.
It is something that gets me sickeningly angry, the way things do when there is no way to rectify them. Britain used to have an industry, now we have industrial heritage. Dont get me wrong, there is nothing romantic about mining, scoliosis, malformed backs and blind pit ponies. My dad preferred the Palestinian War to going back down the pit (which he first went down at the age of fourteen). He hailed his national service call up with great relief and stayed in the army for many years. But the fact remains that Wales and the rest of Industrial Britain was taken for everything it had and then dropped and left for dead when deemed of no further use. Leaving communities staggering or gutted, relying on benefit and loan sharks.
...I wonder if the Beeb will show that?
5 comments:
Sian, you are such a gifted writer. I hestitate to say I enjoyed reading about the decline of the Coal industry in Wales. Maybe I should say you made it come alive and interesting.
We experienced the same thing in Canada. Cape Breton was devastated when the caol mines shut down in the 80's and 90's. I'm not as close to the sitation as you were.
Regardless, I really enjoy (*wince*) reading your posts.
Sensitively put Pilgrim :D Don't worry I understand. And thankyou for your comment, it was very kind of you to say that.
aw,get me a bucket ;p
bog off salman,
aka mandela aka blackadder aka cyril
any more from you and I'll ban you :P
Thanks Sian, synchronicity is a mystery to me but not lost on me ( if you get my drift).
I am fascinated that the programme was only available on BBC Wales as it truly is a wonderful example of how real lives were and how we might have gained in education but lost human contact.
I share a love of Wales, not as a native but I do respect the energy it has, both in the hills, the pitts and the music it brings forth ( and the knitting too!)
Sing and write about it, not because it is history but because our children need to know.......because it is real.
Post a Comment