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.

The next generation

Putting the world to right over a twiglet

Some of the salvaged shots taken on a compact. Having a drink or two with the first cousins

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.

 However, a lot in my life has changed - and for the better - and I want to share that with whoever wants to read it. I am tempted to say “get a life!” You must be bored to be reading this **** ! Maybe it’s me, getting the balance right between ‘living’ life to the full, and writing a few footnotes to it. Let’s see how it goes anyway.

I will compartmentalise everything that has happened with complimentary photographs - if I can sort out my photo-filing system - although they will certainly not be in any chronological order. I like the chaos anyway! So, over the next few weeks and months lets add to the picture that is ME

Sadly, he did not feature my views - which run something along the lines of ‘don’t vote, it only encourages the bastards!’

…and let me introduce you to Nick & the lovely Roz, both studying hard in Falmouth University. Of course, they had no time to go partying, as their academic life takes priority.

The second shot is of our local ironmongers. This amazing Aladdins Cave is worth a visit just to view the impossible range of stock. This old style shop is dying fast and being replaced by DIY superstores, mores the pity. I have yet to beat them at not finding what I am looking for!

Undoubtedly I will add many photos of the Gower coastline in time.This first one, of course, continues the theme of sheep at Worms Head.

My ex- next door neighbour, Norma Williams, has opened a paper-shop/cafe on the new marina. Seen here serving her first cooked breakfast to yours truly. Pay her a visit for a sizeable breakfast or lunch-time snack - at VERY reasonable prices!

Thought I might drop this in -it is something of a visual comment on the degree of pollution caused by aircraft. Swansea is below the main flightpath between London and New york, among others. I found this sky quite alarming on e morning. The picture speaks for itself.

So, rather than boring drivel, I thought I might add lots of piccies with a brief explanation of each. Here goes - hope I can remember how the technology works !

Once again , I owe endless thanks to Chris, my Kazakh-computer guru for attempting to keep me functioning. This is a shot that Carol took of me under the computer desk looking quizzically at the wiring, while Chris attempts to give instructions over MSN! Chris, you have endless patience, and I owe you more than a few drinks.

One of the suggestions was that I should get a dog. OK, that sounds reasonable - tramping Wales’ hills and mountains taking photographs by my side, with a faithful friend beside you sounds perfectly reasonable. Carol fancies a Bichon ! Look at the bloody thing ! What will that do for my street-cred ?! Executive decision here - Welsh Border Collie - NOT a Bichon. Back me up someone, PLEASE. [I have been corrected - this is a cross between a Bichon and a King Charles Spaniel. Said to be wonderful pets. Still not for me though!]

My son, Anthony, got married recently to Lisa. After months of meticulous planning - and more than a few glitches (including the bridal dress shop burning down) the day went smoothly, with only the kind of mishaps one expects -the Best Man losing his speech, etc.. I find it wonderful that a son that caused my first wife, Anne, and I so much heartache by his constant struggle with epilepsy, is now 28 years old, married - and playing rugby regularly. I was very proud of him on the day.

Anthony & Lisa

Even I scrubbed up well on the day

We have aquired a motorhome. The theory is that ths will enable me to get into the hills early in the morning to catch the best light. All being well, I return to the warmth of the motorhome, with Carol waiting with a cooked breakfast. Well, that’s the theory anyway. Practice is likely to be a little different. For a start, I am not very good in the mornings. In fact, until I have had at least three cups of black coffee (at a reasonable hour), I have no wish to engage with the world at large. This does not bode well for someone who has aspirations to catch the first rays of sunshine from a mountain peak (tripping over a Bichon!)

Well, as you can see, it is very comfortable - and that will probably make it even more difficult to leave my bed before 4:00a.m. to take photographs. Maybe I should stick to sunsets - with a glass of wine of course.

Note the Teddy Bear securely belted in for the journey. I mentioned to Carol before Christmas that as a child I had never received a Teddy Bear or a train-set for Christmas, so she bought me a Teddy Bear for Christmas. How cool is that - 57 years old, and I get a Teddy Bear! (Looking forward to a Hornby Dublo set next year!!!)

Our first real journey out was to visit an Aunt of mine in Vanne, France. She is not too well at the moment, and was also long overdue for a visit. In my infinite wisdom, and on the advice of experts, I changed over from propane to camping gas in the motorhome just prior to the journey. What they didn’t tell me was that it was not merely a matter of swopping over the bottles. The result - it took over two and a half hours to boil two cups of water for coffee. Now, bearing in mind what I have admitted about not functioning until I get a major caffeine input in the morning - unshaven, wanting to kill, driving a right hand drive motorhome for the first time on French roads, in search of a cafe or bar that is open early in the morning, does not bode well for entente cordial . That aside, it was a brilliant trip. The French drivers are courteous and patient; on the campsites the staff could not have been more helpful and welcoming. This may not be the case in Paris - but who the hell wants to go to Paris? The lifestyle is laidback, gentle and human. Unfortunately, as France is dragged unwillingly into the uncaring 21st century, it is likely to lose much of its provincial attitude. It is sad that the world is becoming reduced to a “MacDonalds” culture. Long live individuality! Vive la France!

Lunchtime St Malo Brittany Sunset

Brittany is full of surprises. Hidden beaches, wonderful food, fewer Brit’s than I had anticipated, and the weather was really kind to us. So many of the place names had a real Celtic flavour about them, which sets this area aside from the rest of France. Nothing is what you expect - we came across hundreds of bikers in Vanne - a gruesome looking lot - all raising money for Cystic Fibrosis! Be warned, Easter Holidays - NOTHING opens. Boy, did we have to be creative about what we ate! However, we discovered one hotel in Vanne that proved to be an oasis of good food, very good wine - and they are still civilised enough to let you smoke! (Not for long though).

Vanne Cathedral

The Walls of St Malo

Entering Portsmouth HMS Warrior

“Hornblower”, alias Paul Joseph. Commonly seen on roofs about the Swansea area. A man with a head for heights - although questions have been asked about his sea legs - in fact, about his legs in general. Loves the front man role - and in fairness, the unit probably would not exist without him. Scourge of the English Units (for some unknown reason they seem to think the Welsh have an “attitude”. Cannot image why!

Star sign -Pluto. Favourite colour -puce. Pet hates - Cardiff City FC and stop tap. Claim to fame - grounded our RIB more than anyone else in the unit.

Now let me introduce you to Sam -

When Sam joined us I thought she would be the most unlikely candidate for our band of misfits. Far from it. She has proven herself to be more than a capable member. A single Mum (open to offers from hunky millionaire studs), who has launched herself into the MVS with gusto. So far she has managed to avoid aquiring a nickname - but it is only a matter of time. She has developed a very high standard of boat handling skills, and is now also a commited member of the Lougher Inshore Lifeboat crew. Her drunken hedge-leaping skills are spectacular! English Units beware - do not get into a drinking competition with this girl - she may be small, but her size belies her capacity.

Nothing to do with members of our unit - dogs. Every year the Swansea Maritime Festival (Swansea Council - get your act together - it is supposed to be a MARITIME Festival), features an appearance from Newfoundland dog enthusiasts. However, they have double booked this year, so sadly will not be with us. These magnificent animals, weighing in at 140 lbs+ were originally bred to save the lives of fishermen who fell overboard. They have web feet, and enormous appetites. Their display has as a climax one dog towing eight or more people through the water. This is no mean task, and in one display it included Digger (an ex-member of the MVS, weighing in himself at an unmentionable weight) and seven others. Impressive! One of the funniest sights I have seen is when all the Newfoundlands turned up with a 100lb pup - that was afraid of the water! Look carefully at the photograph, the dog is aboard the RIB.

This photo, taken I think at the Portsmouth Festival of the Sea in 2005, is of some members of the Swansea Unit, with Digger in the front tickling Henry’s fancy.

Thought I might introduce you to this rather sad little craft. Fondly known as “Spare Rib” (as opposed to our RIB - rigid inflatable boat - which is called Jack Tar). This small ex-police inflatable was donated to use after a full working life with South Wales Constabulary. We use it far work on the River Tawe in Swansea, and it has proven itself as a good working tool, even though it is now showing it’s age. It has also taken part in safety exercises in Swansea Bay, but one would not wish to set to sea in anything much more than a force 3. Needless to say, it has no home comforts, being and airy sort of craft even on a warm summer’s day. However, it plays a key role in training new members - and is a stern reminder [sorry!] for those mariners more used to the luxury of a steering wheel. Seen here at the inaugural opening of the Swansea SA1 development, where it acted as a safety boat on the King’s Dock. Unfortunately the evening was washed out by a force 8 storm, and even the harbour became unmanageable for all craft involved. The crews still managed to enjoy themselves - that is, after drying out and adjourning to the yacht club.

By the way, if anyone wishes to donate a craft to this small registered charity we would certainly welcome their contribution!

Also present were a bunch of dodgy looking pirates. I’m not convinced that this lot would have terrorised the high seas - however, when they were actually fighting, on a floating pontoon in the middle of the harbour in an impending storm, they certainly went at each other with a vengeance. No injuries were sustained - but Swansea High Street saw some action later in the day!

However, being carless at the moment, and the weather akin to the monsoon season, I find myself confined to the house. This has it’s advantages as my tolerant and loving partner no longer has to consider domestic chores at the end of her working day. It is a large house, and a bit like painting the Firth of Forth bridge, once you finish the job it is time to start again. Having been converted from a Guinness loving, rugby following, chauvinist male, to something of a new man, the role of a Domestic God still does not sit easily with me. Inevitably I find myself  looking for diversions. The latest of these involves a blender - bought some time ago when thoughts of living a healthier lifestyle were a minor consideration - never used, but now brought out from its hiding place, dusted down, and pressed into action. This is where the boredom takes over. Now, whilst trying to be conscientious about getting the right amount of fruit & veg each day, generations of Irish ancestry  ensure that at least some degree of alcohol has to feature in the diet. After experimenting with a few simple “smoothies” involving harmless fruit and other health-giving ingredients, my attention wanders back toward the question of “I wonder how this would work with a little alcohol added?”. Initial experiments have proved interesting, although the consistency of some of the creations may prove to be a new source of building material. With further practice, and an even higher alcohol content, things are improving. For the time being the recipes are a secret, at least until the research is completed, and the hangover period is established. But on the plus side it must be said that this is an excellent ploy, whilst appearing a reformed health freak, one is able to maintain a level of equilibrium in the metabolism.

The down side of this boredom phase is the continuation of my perennial “rant against the machine”. I freely admit that the only machines I have had a reasonable working relationship with have been cameras. Even these have now proven to be a nightmare, since the newest Nikon comes with a 600 page instruction book. Who the fuck reads a 600 page instruction book! Of course you read the “quick start” and then launch yourself into the world expecting to capture amazing images. Of course, it doesn’t work like that.  I am now forced to try & decipher how this ultra complex piece of technology functions. Add to this a range of seriously alcoholic smoothies and we end up with something reminiscent of an LSD experience, with images floating around the head making no sense whatsoever. Consequence - you look for an alternative pastime.

I’m almost afraid to mention the bloody computer! It seems that whatever I do on this machine IT FIGHTS BACK! Something as simple as buying a product from a company on e-Bay this morning proved to be a Herculean task. I think I got there in the end, but gave up on the idea of trying to make it into a multiple order. When I am in work the IT section are kept in permanent employment by me alone! Here, in this technical dessert, I am left stranded, frustrated, angry - and pissed with an overdose of 90%proof smoothies! But even this is preferable to the last option - watching mindblowingly boring daytime Sky television.

Maybe I’ll go and make another smoothie.

At the age of 57 I have seen mindblowing , ridiculous changes in this world of ours. For young people today this is a truly exciting and dangerous time to be alive. When I was young my grandparents in Ireland got about by means of a horse & trap. Laughingly, my Grandfather was also regarded as the local fire-brigade. In the rare event of a fire in the village of Ballyporeen, he was summoned from whichever pub he was holed up in, cycled back to his farm, and attached the cart to the horse, loaded it with the hoses and pump, and then “raced” to the fire. Needless to say, if anyone was unfortunate enough to have a fire (and most of the farms had thatched roofs) they usually lost everything. However, the community rallied around to help the poor family to rebuild their lives. The village had few phones - only the Garda (Police), the doctor and the local priest as far as I remember. We were regarded as wealthy by comparison - we had a Morris 1000 car!

Ireland has changed, it is now a sophisticated and wealthy country, and the population is returning in great numbers. There still remains a deep sense of “caring”within the Irish psyche, but inevitably in a modern, fast moving environment, fewer people have time to stop and talk any more.

I was brought up in Wales, but very much in an Irish Catholic tradition. As a child and a young teenager politics was alien to me. Wales had, and still has, a strong alliance to a Labour movement. It was unquestioned that the Labour party dominated Welsh politics. The standing joke was that if a donkey was nominated it would still be voted for. Quite a few donkeys were in fact voted for. On the other hand, there was a stronghold of principled men and women who took their political views passionately and honestly. Their politics were born from suppression by wealthy businesmen - and generations were kept in ignorance by the establishment (which was composed of the same businessmen). It was the miners in Wales who instigated education for the working class, not the employers or the Westminster dominated rulers.

Russia, and the so-called “Iron Curtain” countries were presented as a dark & dangerous entity, always threatening, waiting for the opportunity to invade the “free” world. Anyone locally who was a known member of the Communist Party was regarded as an eccentric, a fanatic, or a pseudo-intellectual who had gone off the rails. The local Communist Party members, equally, presented news from the Soviet block in a sickeningly biased way, never allowing for criticism of a system which they propagated as a perfect model for mankind.

My first real awakening to politics was around the time of the Cuba crisis. The consequences of this ludicrous nuclear standoff were too large for me to comprehend. I just could not believe that our so-called leaders would get themselves into such an impasse - particularly in the light of lessons that should have been learned from two World Wars. What did they hope to gain by wiping each other out? In fact that is not truthful. What did they hope to gain by wiping each other’s population out while they cowered in their respective bunkers? Has the logic and the wisdom of today’s politicians improved? Needless to say, at this point of awakening for me into the direct consequence of politics - I joined the peace movement. Amusingly, my mother and grand-mother still had pictures set in a single frame of Pope Pius, Pope John Paul & President John Kennedy. If only we had known then what we know now about Kennedy and what a corrupt womaniser he was, my Grandmother would have had a heart attack! We lived at a time when we looked for simple heroes. Knowledge of the reality was suppressed on a massive scale.

In an effort to make sense of life - and to the horror of my parents - I left home at 15 in order to train as a priest. There is a lot to be said for cloistering a person at a young age, filling them with dogma, and letting them loose on the world. Fortunately for the Vatican I began to have serious doubts after I was sent to the English College in Lisboa, Portugal. Learning - as seems to be common practice in most education systems - was about teaching you specific questions and answers by rote. I was something of a thorn in the side of various teachers, as I insisted on asking questions that were not within their framework. Humanae Vitae was a prime example, a papal encyclical regarding birth control. It was proposed that it was “unnatural”. I argued that so were a number of features of modern day life - and suspected that the truth actually lay in the propagation of lots of little new Catholics for the Pope’s army of missionaries! Needless to say, I left the seminary without much aplomb! This was also about the time that Jean Shrimpton brought the mini-skirt to life. What a discovery!!!

What was also interesting at this time was that I was living in Portugal while it was under Salazaar’s dictatorship. I had several brushes with the local police. On one occasion I was happily photographing ships loading and unloading in the beautful Lisboa harbour ( I always had a passion for ships and the sea). What I didn’t realise was that I had also photographed a shipment of British tanks being unloaded for the Portuguese - and then promptly being loaded onto a Portuguese freighter for the wars in Angola, Mozambique. Of course, the British government were ignorant of this breach of Nato rules - like hell! British newspapers would frequently not appear on the stands if the international press was considered too sensitive or critical. I suppose this is the thread that runs through all of this for me - the manipulation of news. To a great extent the internet has largely demolished barriers in the disemmination of propoganda. But I feel that the world , somehow, no longer really cares about the truth of what is going on. Is it because we no longer feel that we have any control? Do people feel that they CAN influence the world about them and at large? During my brief interlude into a hippy culture we certainly believed we could do something to change the world we live in. Admittedly we played a large part in bringing the war in Vietnam to an early closure. But governments were stronger, and more conniving.

This has got something to do with personal responsibility. I suppose that the hippy thing was about the individual - and experiencing life as an individual - even though for most people it was in a drugged haze. People were genuinely looking for an explanation of the crazy, frightening world they lived in, and realised that, accumulatively, they could be an influence for good. We had no idea how manipulative our governments were - maybe some inkling, but we still had some faith in their integrity. Just look at average Americans today - do they question with ANY real depth the agendas and motives of their politicians? Never mind the Americans - do we? In Britain debate seems to be more informed - but probably with more corruption in politics. Politics today leaves me feeling powerless and afraid. Name three honest politicians? Why is this country entrenched in an immoral and illegal war in Iraq? There are plenty of other dictators in the world who need sorting out - but they do not have oil. It makes me laugh to think of Tony Blair coming into power proclaiming open and honest politics. He is a political opportunist, and a traitor to the principles of a Labour movement.

In my youth politics was very parochial. Local matters predominated - unless men were called away to war to “serve King & Country”. Whatever political model is proposed it has one major flaw - the foibles of human beings, and their wish to have control over their own lives. I read an interesting book some years ago about a guy called Krishnamurti. He was set up and educated to be a great religious leader - but rejected this outright. I suggest that everyone should make an opportunity to read at least some of his thinking. He does not promote religion or world saving philosophies or structures. But he makes some interesting comments on how we might view our lives.

At least life has taught me never to trust politicians or political leaders, to question everything they say with a degree of suspicion. Funnily, they are becoming disempowered as multi-national corporations now call the shots. Religion, again, I now view with even more suspicion. I have given up trying to find answers to questions that will never be found. My Christian upbringing has given me some sort of framework when approaching life - but the answers it provides make no sense any longer. If there is a meaning to life, it will always be beyond our comprehension. Why bother wasting time worrying about questions that will never be answered? Religion does teach us something about caring for our fellow man - but more actively is one of the biggest driving forces in instigating wars. Maybe George Harrison summed it up succinctly before his death. He said “Love each other”. Could we ask for more?

As far as Missile Launchers are concerned… Chris was given a toy missile launcher for Christmas which connects to the PC. I’m not sure how this works, but Irina was charged with returning to Kazakhstan with it in her luggage. Now, in these times of mega-airport security, there was much discussion regarding whether this should go in hand or hold luggage. I must admit to finding this proposition highly amusing - because irina is the most unlikely potential terrorist one could find. I presume this arrived safely, and without causing a major incident , and now is installed an amuses the cat!

As far as the AK47 is concerned - that is another story. I have just been invited to the pub, where undoubtedly we will again put the world to right!

p.s. Chris had a foul cold while they were with us over Christmas. This photo of him on Christmas morning is cruel !! This is what I call extreme “wrapping up”

The topic of sheep seems to stray into our lives frequently. Friends of Carol have bought her sheep (not live ones!) in all sorts of forms for some years. And it is the case that sheep seem to behave in a bizarre way around her. Take for example the previous photo of a “traffic jam”, which just happened as we were exloring the local hills. This one was taken on a weekend in the Llyn Peninsula. I have never seen anything like it before - and they simply ignored us while I was taking the shots. By the way, it is true, Welsh Lamb IS the best in the world!  Are sheep the most stupid animals on the planet? What purpose do they serve - other than making delicious eating? Are there any farmers out there that can answer this?

Traffic Jam, Black Mountain road 

Just adding a few images of some of the artists we have been to see this year (couldn’t get my Nikon into the Rolling Stones concert in the Milennium Stadium in Cardiff - that was the highlight of music this year. How the hell does Jagger do it ?! He should be on a zimmer ! Side effects of LSD?

First a group that we were VERY impressed with - and to make it even more rewarding, a local Swansea band - The Storys (Korova Records,KODE1002: www.korovarecords.com ). If you get a chance, listen in. Amazing combination of sounds when playing live, and their first album is brilliant.

If she will forgive me for saying so, a hardy perennial, Barbara Dickson.

Her latest album of Beatles songs is truly beautiful. Mix with a good bottle of wine, even better company, and the sound of her - nirvana!

Special thanks to Radio Wales for putting on a free concert. Pity about the small number - but great for those of us who were there. You need to sort out your pre-concert publicity though. Don’t rely on Swansea City to do this for you - they have no idea how to run an event ! Just look at the non-maritime “Maritime Festival” !

To someone local again, Padraig Lalol of Henry Marten’s Ghost. Take a look at the reviews in the music press. That says it all. We still get to see him for free locally - but that won’t last for long. Seen here playing with Pietr, probably the most intuitive fiddle player I have ever heard…

Check out Henry Martens Ghost

Listen in on http://www.wovenwheatwhispers.co.uk/Label-Review-HenryMartensGhost.htm

Anyway, back to a few images.

Traffic jam -  Harlech Castle -  

Towyn Morning - 

Boat House, Black Mountains - 

Sex Shop, Barmouth 

I hope to emulate some of the starker images of photographers like Bill Brandt, using only black & white and minimal lighting, which produces an anonymous image, but retains the real beauty of the human body. Watch this space.

By the way, the other two women were really cool about the images, which was not the reaction I expected from them.

I’m glad to report that lucy’s modelling career is taking off. Any would be photographer wishing to contact her let me know.

This time I have attached a few shots of the nature reserve that is only 300mtrs from the house - and of course, one of my new “local” hostelry the New Inn at Clydach, of which it must be said that it is one of the most welcoming pubs I have ever entered. The food is pretty exceptional too!

I have been lucky enough to have spent part of my childhood visiting Grandparents & relatives in the most beautiful part of Ireland, and witnessing a world that has now been lost to my children. Communication was basic: poeple stopped and talked to each other, more honestly, more philosphically, with love and care about each other. The car did not rule; the phone did not intrude. Families struggled, and largely stayed together. Relationships had value. We now live in a world where communication is supposedly master and paramount - a world where we fail to communicate on a simple, basic & honest level. Relationships have become disposable.  It scares me what we have left for our children.

I remember vividly the “Cuba Crisis”, and hiding under the bed at night in case of nuclear attack. Yet today’s kids seem oblivious to the machinations of our lunatic politicians. We cannot turn the clock back. Neither can we stop Capitalism screwing up our world and climate. The masters of industry and politicians are not listening - nor do they care. They have only short term gain as their vision. No plea of “what are you leaving your grandchildren?” will reach their money stuffed ears.

In the meantime, I will take photographs to at least remind myself of how beautiful this fragile planet of ours can be.

The poignant thing about this guy’s job is that he has to work on stations before the public arrive in order not to offend anyones sensibilities! It’s a lonely job - and quite sad in many ways. But he does get to work with these beautiful creatures - and I suppose he doesn’t have to be part of the rat-race.

From that to something completed different. Clydach is about eight miles north of the sea, and a very different environment. A nature reserve with owls, herons,buzzards and swallows instead of seagulls.

Golwg y Lon, which I am told translates as “View of the Lane”, is set on the edge of Clydach at the foot of the Black Mountains. It is a fabulous place for landscape photography, and as soon as work stops getting in the way, I will be spending a lot more time with my camera in these hills. The pace of life is also surprising slower than that of the city a few miles away. Carol & I have been trying to think of a names for the house (in Welsh of course).”tranquil” or “peaceful” house was our first choice. This translates as Ty Tawel, but is pronounced like the English Tea Towel. We are still thinking!

Our illustrious MVS Head of Unit - known as Hornblower, and Samantha (no nickname so far, but suggestions are welcome!) feature above with Michaela at the monument dedicated to Swansea Jack.

Talking of dogs…the next call was to the cold waters of Swansea Marina, where Michaela gets to meet the Newfoundland dogs. These huge dogs, with webbed feet, are bred to rescue fishermen who fall overboard. Michaela was given a lifejacket, and was assured by one of our crew - no names mentioned at this point! -that it was NOT the self-inflating variety, which promptly exploded in to action as she hit the water!

In the first photo Hornblower becomes a very shy person in front of the camera (who is this man?), and blows his chance at fifteen minutes of fame. The second shows one of the dogs aboard a RIB - it is heavier that the other crew members. … and in the third are some of the crew members with Michaela before they were returned to the ward.