Post by eifionwyn on Aug 22, 2019 12:39:39 GMT -1
Hi everyone.
My name is Eifion (pronounced Aevion) and I am looking forward to some lively debate on here.
I am a 61-year-old Welshman brought-up in Snowdonia by a family of teachers, historians and poets. My father, one of 11 children was the headmaster of my award-winning infant and junior school. This was Llanllechid Primary in Rachub, a tiny stone and slate village situated high in the cold foothills of Snowdon, perched above the small town of Bethesda. With so many Uncles and Aunts (four of whom were teachers) and countless cousins, I was lucky enough to receive a proper Welsh education and was imbued from infancy with a deep and abiding love for our ancient and glorious history.
My blind Taid (Grandfather) was an orator and storyteller of note and I recall vividly our huge family squashed into the front parlour in Nain and Taid’s terraced house on Madoc Street, Porthmadoc. The whole family would be there listening to one of his historical tales, told with an elder-teacher’s love of his language and in his deep and musical baritone, inspired to verbosity perhaps by his blindness but we could all tell he enjoyed it. I can still smell the coal fire and the whisky, the sweet sherry and the fragrant smoke that curled from his long pipe as he spun wondrous images before our eyes and fired our already vivid imaginations, with tales of dark Druids and magic, glimmering warriors like Lludd Llaw Ereint (silver hand) and Lleu Llaw Gyffes (agile handed), both who feature in these stories. Always dressed in a pinstripe, three-piece suit Taid would stand by the mantelpiece, puff his pipe and talk for hours whilst my brother and I would be on the floor in one corner, completely entranced. He spoke of God-like, ancient warriors like Beli Mawr even great Arthwr Fawr, and a huge terrifying giant called Yspaddaden Pencawr, who lived locally and actually ate naughty children!
This then was the foundation to my historical and cultural education, which is of course a never-ending process. I have been writing creatively for over forty years, and these truly ancient, largely untold stories have been simmering inside me for as long as I can remember. Thus armed, I set out to write about these ancient tales and have recently published a uniquely Brythonic perspective, iron-age trilogy, encompassing both Julius Caesar's invasions of Britain in 55 & 54 BC.
Regards,
Eifion
My name is Eifion (pronounced Aevion) and I am looking forward to some lively debate on here.
I am a 61-year-old Welshman brought-up in Snowdonia by a family of teachers, historians and poets. My father, one of 11 children was the headmaster of my award-winning infant and junior school. This was Llanllechid Primary in Rachub, a tiny stone and slate village situated high in the cold foothills of Snowdon, perched above the small town of Bethesda. With so many Uncles and Aunts (four of whom were teachers) and countless cousins, I was lucky enough to receive a proper Welsh education and was imbued from infancy with a deep and abiding love for our ancient and glorious history.
My blind Taid (Grandfather) was an orator and storyteller of note and I recall vividly our huge family squashed into the front parlour in Nain and Taid’s terraced house on Madoc Street, Porthmadoc. The whole family would be there listening to one of his historical tales, told with an elder-teacher’s love of his language and in his deep and musical baritone, inspired to verbosity perhaps by his blindness but we could all tell he enjoyed it. I can still smell the coal fire and the whisky, the sweet sherry and the fragrant smoke that curled from his long pipe as he spun wondrous images before our eyes and fired our already vivid imaginations, with tales of dark Druids and magic, glimmering warriors like Lludd Llaw Ereint (silver hand) and Lleu Llaw Gyffes (agile handed), both who feature in these stories. Always dressed in a pinstripe, three-piece suit Taid would stand by the mantelpiece, puff his pipe and talk for hours whilst my brother and I would be on the floor in one corner, completely entranced. He spoke of God-like, ancient warriors like Beli Mawr even great Arthwr Fawr, and a huge terrifying giant called Yspaddaden Pencawr, who lived locally and actually ate naughty children!
This then was the foundation to my historical and cultural education, which is of course a never-ending process. I have been writing creatively for over forty years, and these truly ancient, largely untold stories have been simmering inside me for as long as I can remember. Thus armed, I set out to write about these ancient tales and have recently published a uniquely Brythonic perspective, iron-age trilogy, encompassing both Julius Caesar's invasions of Britain in 55 & 54 BC.
Regards,
Eifion