Now, I try and keep my bias against the English limited to the rugby season, however, I must admit that a character named Giraldus Cambrensis has rather rattled my cage by referring to the Welsh as a “barbarous people”. Admittedly this was in the 12th century, but that is no excuse for such an insult. We were not even playing rugby against them then for God’s sake ! He was in fact writing about the exquisitely beautiful site of Llanthony Priory, situated about eight miles North of Abergavenny, on probably the most photogenic road in Wales. For a precised version of the history check out http://www.castlewales.com/llantho.html .

In the “today” world, this little expedition was part of the escape plan from the bustle of the Abergavenny Food Festival. The only down side of visiting this spot is that the tiny pub set into the walls of the old priory does not serve Guinness. Other than that, it is truly idyllic, even on a bad day. I’ve taken lots of photos, but I’ll add only a few here.

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Although I have up until now added photographs of our little princess (!) Gwen, I think she now merits a spot of her own. So please forgive the drooling, but she is a bit special - and Carol and I are totally mad about her. So I will add thes in no specific order - only as I find them in my disorganised system.

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Having just arrived back from this years Food Fest in Abergavenny, I feel that I have to report a degree of disappointment. It’s been about three or four years since I last visited, and the increase in the volume of people attending is quite amazing. So much so that it has put me off visiting again for a very long time. It is now highly organised, and commercialised. The cost of entry into the general areas has dramatically increased, and the “specialised” events appear to be far more elitist - and expensive. I sallied forth with camera in hand, only to be greeted by a tide of humanity. I quickly gave up on the idea of capturing images of the event, pushed my way through in order to sample as many freebees as possible, and retired to the castle with cheese and wine in hand for a quiet lunch. Well, it was lunch, but not quiet. Never having been a great lover of crowds, we retired to the tranquility of Usk for some respite, then back to the caravan in order to polish off one or two more bottles of wine over a raucous game of dominos !

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I had to make a sad journey a few weeks ago, back to the village of Ballyporeen, where my Mother’s side of the family hailed from. My aunt “Phillie” (Philomena - I think) died this year after a long and difficult illness at her home in Melbourne. Her son David brought her ashes home to be placed in the family grave, alongside her parents Alice & Cornelius Creagh, my mother Nellie (Ellen) and her brother Michael. As many of the family as could make the journey gathered together in the lovely village of Ballyporeen, which nestles between the Galtee and Knockmeldown Mountains.

It was a journey of mixed feelings. I still find it very difficult to revisit my mother’s grave, and recognise that much of my life is about denial of painful episodes. However, Ballyporeen also holds idyllic memories of childhood, the freedom to roam the fields and hinterland freely, without fear and with a sense of sunny exploration. The village still retains - in a most peculiar way - a sense of unspoilt innocence, reminicent of Laury Lee’s “Cider with Rosie”. It has an air of being a relative backwater, reluctantly dipping its toes into the 21st century. The main industry appears to still be based on farming, with the consequence that the skilled workforce has to some degree or another commute to areas which are more industrialised. The houses, with the exception of some of the palacial newer buildings, are not as bright and pristine as in my childhood memories, and there is a vibrancy missing which the busy market village once held. The Catholic Church stills wields a powerful influence in the community, not surprising I suppose. Still, I find the presence of such unquestioning faith disturbing. Put it down to my cynicism.

One thing that still exists in copious doses is a sense of humour. Our lives are immensely complicated today. As a child I recall Ballyporeen in glowing terms, a real sense of community in the face of hardship, always accompanied with a laugh or a joke. Ireland’s cities and towns may have become more homogenous and bland. Many of the small communities show a reluctance to chance, which I find healthy and disarming at the same time.

I have grave suspicions that the good people of Ballyporeen did a great con job on the President of the United States, Ronnie Reagan. I’m sure someone may put me right on this, but there seem to be some wry smiles when the subject of Ronnie’s Irish heritage is mentioned. The claim is that his grandfather came from this unassuming village. I’m not sure that the evidence stands up to scrutiny though. I may well rattle someones cage in writing this, but it was very convenient for the late Ronnie anyway at a time when he needed the Irish vote back home. Whatever, the locals used the occasion for an almighty “piss-up”, which is OK by me.

I was surprised by the number of newcomers into the area from England and Germany. Although, moving into this beautiful area is wisdom on their part if one is looking to escape the vagaries of modern existence, or at least hold it at arms length. They seem to have seamlessly blended into the landscape. I don’t know why I should be surprised at that - perhaps because this does not happen so readily in Wales.

Over one or two beers, the first cousins who had gathered stared a headcount. Several recounts were necessary, but it was finally agreed that there are 35 first cousins on the Creagh side of this family, all of whom (with one sad exception) are still around to tell the tale. There have been a number of attempts to write a family tree, though because we have tended to work in isolation this has not yet materialised. Perhaps with the advantage of the internet we might finally get our act together. I am not the most organised of people to do this, but maybe I should make more effort to organise this with others. (Will put on my “must do” list)

As a postscript;- I took over two hundred photographs of Ballyporeen while I was there, which involved driving my Land Rover well off-road in order to get the right angle. However, I lost the bloody lot on my computer when I returned home. OK, this gives me a good reason to return, hopefully in the Spring, and spend a couple of days soaking in the atmosphere, the Guinness and the warmth of a truly beautiful part of the world.

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