“What price fan ownership? What price a future? What price the ritual pre-game jar, the cats-cradle of conversations around the table, the advancing of hope, the daring to dream and the anticipation of watching a game that matters. That’s what was dragged away and chained in a dark place. That’s what was starved almost to death in the grim, bleak, endless night – withering and sick to the stomach. That’s what brought us here, back from the brink, to a Beaumaris boozer, cadging a lift to Llangoed.”
What price?

I Don’t Belong

There’s a great line in the Reid and Shamblin song that Bonnie Raitt made a hit. The song is called ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me’ and it’s about falling…

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John Penrhos

There was a ramshackle wooden house on the corner where our road met the main road. Mostly hidden by an overgrowth of shrubs and trees, left to themselves to crowd…

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Blue Plaque

It was an old shed. Worriers would not enter, Or if they did, They would clutch their children’s hands And be hurriers-through. Its corrugated skin had seen better days and…

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Vienna

On the plane home I remembered the postcards my uncle had written, describing crossing the Dutch coast for my Nain and Taid, describing the salad, the coffee and his excitement…

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A Valley On The Coast

A Valley On The Coast was written by my friend, the artist Pete Jones. After a particularly liquid day, we retired to his studio, only to discover a fridge containing…

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