I have a new post out today on the Institute of Welsh Affairs website. Looking at the position of Plaid Cymru following the recent European elections, I argue that for Plaid to regain lost ground on their rivals, they need to adopt some of the tactics employed by UKIP, rather than become embroiled in a direct battle against them. 'While the status quo remained the same in Wales following the European elections, there was no shortage of change. With UKIP solidifying their presence in Wales and half the country turning from blue to purple after the final results, the political landscape is largely unrecognisable from a few years ago. The spread of elected representatives being sent to Europe from Wales is no different, but the signs are certainly there that the political will of the country has decidedly shifted. Throughout the European campaign, Plaid Cymru followed a path well trodden by the major parties, in basing the bulk of their arguments around why the electorate should not vote for UKIP. In some respects, the strategy paid off. Certainly Plaid Cymru have been concerned at the prospect of losing Jill Evans as an MEP, and descriptions of Plaid’s relief at the result, rather than expectation, are probably quite accurate. In terms of base results, yes, the Plaid plan paid off, but scratch the surface, and a story of stagnation and decline is perhaps more representative . . . ' The rest of the article can be read at: http://www.clickonwales.org/2014/05/for-plaid-to-grow-look-to-ukip/
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Last year, Cardiff Central Library played host to the excellent Japan Day, a wonderful celebration of Japanese culture. This Saturday, the event makes a welcome return, and I can say, with some excitement, that I'll be participating this time. The Renseikan Kendo Club will be providing two demonstrations during the day, and I'll be involved. So, if you want to see me get hit in the head, there is no better opportunity than on Saturday in Cardiff - equally, there will be many other things going on, well worth a look. Details below.
The last time I visited Stonehenge must have been in either 2002 or 2003. Back in the undergraduate days at the Institute of Archaeology, we made way for the henge as part of, if memory serves correctly, a Public Archaeology module – though I may be wide of the mark on that detail. We were well prepared students of archaeology back then, our priorities being focused on the preparation of a picnic and assorted wines to consume in a grassy strip adjoining the car park. It just so happened that we popped into the henge and visitor centre, but that was a brief intrusion into an otherwise highly successful picnic. Over a decade later and the Stonehenge I visited that day has been quite transformed. With the investment of millions, the stripping away of major roads and the creation of a brand new (and not without controversy) visitor centre, the Stonehenge experience has been transformed. More by chance, myself and the Prof found ourselves in the neck of the woods, and decided it was high time we revisited this most significant of henge monuments, and cast a judging eye over the new interpretive strategies. We could not have picked a worse day to do it. It was probably when the lightning bolts started cracking over the Wiltshire skyline that we knew we might have got our timing a little wrong. As thunder rumbled overhead, and the heavens tipped out everything they had, Stonehenge and the surrounding access roads gradually began to fill up – this would be a soggy experience. The weather however, probably helped in terms of thinning out the potential visitor numbers on the day. Despite being a heritage professional who should always be encouraging visitor numbers, I always prefers next to no other visitors when I happen to be at a site (they can be busy when I’m not there). We also were financially compensated through the Prof’s lifetime Cadw membership card, which secured free entry to the new site. Merciful, as otherwise this ‘experience’ would have cost us nearly £30 in total. If you want to take this as a review of Stonehenge, it’s probably best keeping that financial factor in mind. Going here for free, I was entirely satisfied, and generally impressed. Had I handed over £30 for two tickets, I think I would have felt pretty short changed – something not helped by the generally unfinished state of the site. For those who don’t remember, Stonehenge was a World Heritage Site flirting with danger – danger of being placed on the World Heritage Sites in Danger List, something generally seen as a tremendous negative in British circles. Part of this criticism levelled at the site was the major road which ran alongside, and partially cutting, Stonehenge, and the disastrous visitor centre. Both are still there. They might be building (or deconstruction) sites, but the imprint of the road remains, the shell of the visitor centre still peeks out from the ground, while JCBs rumble around digging up the much maligned original car park. Work still to be done there, but you can see how the idea of an open landscape will be achieved, to some extent, once the works are complete. Probably the most significant addition to the Stonehenge experience is the visitor/interpretation centre, within which the new exhibition space can be found. In addition, outside, is the Neolithic Houses project, which can be followed on twitter. I won’t write much about this aspect because, as with much of the complex, it is equally unfinished. However, the houses are looking great, and a sneaky insider view does suggest that this, when complete, will be a real asset to the visitor experience. The sooner this element is open the better – after all, everyone loves a roundhouse. The exhibition space is equally promising. Some of the wall panel displays are, without getting too excited, quite visionary. Wall length video projections provide differing interpretations for the passage of time in the landscape surrounding Stonehenge. This is both effective and visually striking. Rarely has a wall mounted display proven to be so engaging, and watching visitors watching the display, this certainly seemed to secure an above average ‘stay time’. Smaller video projections are built into almost all the displays. Unfortunately, the positioning of the majority of these seems to be directed entirely at children, in terms of their height and positioning (my neck was no fan of them) – and there seems potential to make more of this interpretive technique. Still, this is only a minor grumble. The bigger grumble relates to the space in which visitors have to work their way through the exhibition space. As stated, this was a very soggy day at Stonehenge, which I can only presume negatively impacted on visitor numbers. Still, the exhibition space felt very crowded. It seems odd that in a purpose built structure, designed to accommodate a high volume of visitors, that such limited space was included around certain exhibits. As a result, bottle necks seemed to occur frequently, with bumping and shoving not an unusual sight. Again, this seems very odd given the bespoke nature of the visitor centre, and the anti-tourist agenda corner of my brain can’t help but query whether too much space has been given over to the substantial shop, restaurant, toilet facilities and so on, at the expense of really developing a museum orientated exhibition space. It is these sorts of concerns that, if couple with a hot, visitor heavy day, that the entrance fee really becomes a questionable element. The ‘new’ Stonehenge has potential, and the main henge site of course continues to impress and inspire, perhaps more so given the atmospheric conditions on the day. The real judgement of the value for money here can only come once the site is truly complete – though when that will be realised is again questionable. It’s been a half a year since the official opening, and much of what was intended for this site remains a work in progress. However, I don’t want to be overly critical. That these changes are being made is arguably the most important thing. The visitor experience pre 2013 was, frankly, pretty crap. This is much better, but much, much more expensive. Maybe saving up the pennies and waiting for the completion of this project would be the best advice for those who can’t blag free entry. For those who can, go now, it’s pretty good. What a dilemma Saturday was, staying in for what appeared to be the most outrageous night of Eurovision for several years, or make way for the windy battered, darkened corner of Llanishen Village Hall? In the end, my enduring love and passion for all forms of intangible cultural heritage meant I braved the storm, passed on the opportunity to watch Conchita enrage Russian authorities, and enjoyed what turned out to be one of the most compelling nights of storytelling that I have enjoyed in a very long time. Over the weekend was staged an utterly compelling performance of ‘Hunting the Giants Daughter’. This was an interpretation of the tale of Culhwch and Olwen, of Mabinogi fame, a marvellous story of heroism, boar hunting and, what I maintain is utterly unnecessary but repeated decapitations of giants – as stories go, this one has never been lacking in a sense of the fantastic. In many respects however, the actual story was somewhat peripheral to the sense of occasion, as performance group Adverse Camber delivered such an engaging evening, that they really could have been talking about anything, such was the power of their delivery. Adverse Camber specialise in the delivery of new approaches to storytelling, yet their approach is one which taps into the essence of a historical form of delivery, which echoes how we might imagine such tales to have been delivered before their committal to vellum. Combining animated oral delivery, song and musical instruments, Adverse Camber deliver an interpretation which is ultimately far more complex than appearances suggest. Michael Harvey’s oratory skills and memory capacity are repeatedly tested, as the lists which dominate much of the story were delivered in intricate detail and unwavering energy. Coupled with Lynne Denman and Stacey Blythe, Culhwch and Olwen was brought to life in a way in which I have not before had the pleasure to enjoy. From a personal perspective, to see Welsh intangible cultural heritage performed to an engaged audience, especially one so far toward the eastern boundary of Wales, is truly inspiring. The tales of the Mabinogi are not known as well as they should be. Lecturing this year to undergraduate History students, I was dismayed to find that nearly none in the class had any familiarity with these stories – and quickly set about writing a new class specifically to introduce this material. At the same time, to see an individual captivate a crowd with a story, is something that is very rare indeed, yet in Welsh tradition, such a delivery would have once been common place. All sorts of intangible traditions have been lost in Wales, but this art of storytelling is slowly been brought back to contemporary audiences by the impressive efforts of Adverse Camber. An important component in the evening’s entertainment though, was the organisational role played by the Arts Council for Wales, through their Night Out scheme. The programme looks to support rural communities in the hosting of professional performances, the likes of which would usually prove prohibitively expensive to pursue. Night Out supports communities by covering the majority of the costs of the performers, leaving communities to focus on a minimum numbers of ticket sales to cover the comparatively manageable overheads for an event. Without Night Out, Llanishen in Monmouthshire would never have been able to afford the talents provided by Adverse Camber. The importance therefore, of such organisations in making it plausible for communities to host such occasions, is arguably as important as the events themselves. Certainly, Adverse Camber are worth the cost, with or without assistance, and if you have the opportunity to catch their unique, but historically familiar approach to storytelling, I would thoroughly recommend it. Sadly fewer and fewer people in Wales have any knowledge of the stories of the Mabinogi. One viewing of Adverse Camber will leave a lasting memory, which will go some way to ensuring the long term viability of these tales in a contemporary Welsh context. So, that’s that then. Five years on, and almost nine months to the day of submission, the viva is complete, as is my PhD (bar some minor corrections here and there). There have been various points in this experience where the old, terrible, but in some ways brilliant, theme tune to Star Trek: Enterprise, has served as the theme tune to my life. The opening lyrics: ‘It´s been a long road, getting from there to here. It´s been a long time, but my time is finally near’, is, I feel, a fair summary, though perhaps it would be more accurate to just sample the opening five words, for it has indeed been a long road. This whole process began way back in 2001, with my first degree in archaeology, during the London odyssey. Back then, I had wonderful time of things, highly indulgent, with the occasional academic intrusion into the three years of opulent loitering. I came out with a 2:1, which was all well and good at the time, but I knew that I had more in me, that perhaps were I to do a degree properly, I could actually come out with something more impressive. It was with that rationale that I made way for Leicester, a postgrad in archaeology and heritage. Studying via distance learning – where I spent most of my day time on an isolated farm, a far cry from the distractions of London, meant I had all the time in the world to work on my degree, and it went great. The 60 percents were coming in, then came the 70 percents, and by the end of it, I even brought in the odd 80 percent mark – these were great days. However, going into my dissertation, I liberally ignored the word count, got whacked with a vast penalty, which sunk my overall degree average down to 69 percent. Gone was my distinction, and established was my very unhealthy relationship with word limits. Ultimately, another disappointing academic experience had been registered. For a time I walked away from the whole environment. The word limit debacle had broken my spirit, having come so close to my ever elusive top tier grade. Into museums I stumbled for a period of time, and it was only when I had made peace with the career dead end that that prove to be, did I find a final opportunity to crack the academic walnut. When a bursary was put together for the then University of Wales, Newport, to lecture in heritage studies, and conduct a PhD in the same area, I jumped at it. Granted, options were limited, and this was going to make money – so the mercenary in me gave me a big shove. But here was a University looking to pay me to do a PhD, a beautiful thing indeed. The heritage angle was attractive for a wide range of reasons, partly in that it would allow me to pursue an academic path distinct from that other, most established, Dr Howell. I would wave farewell to my beloved archaeology, and dive head first into my heritage research. I’ve written at length on the actual research, and, at this particular point in time, have no inclination at all to face it again in detail. Covering heritage and politics in Wales, with comparisons in Iceland and Greenland, this was a very interesting, utterly unique and incredible well travelled investigation into Welsh heritage themes. It also took place what feels like a very, very long time ago. It was some point in the autumn of 2013 that I actually submitted the final draft. For one reason or another, most of which were completely unforeseeable and unfortunate circumstances, it took almost a year for us to reach examination. Day by day, my research became a little more dated, a little more contestable. By the end of my revision period, I was probably spending more time analysing events that had taken place after my research had ended, rather than exploring the research itself. In terms of the actual viva, at the second time of asking (having prepared for one already several months earlier), I took a pretty pragmatic approach. I had conducted the research, I had lectured on the subject matter for the last few years, and I had stayed on top of the actual subject field during the last year, all in all, I felt confident in the fact that I knew my stuff. Still, I read through the thesis again, though only the once. I thought I would tackle it several times, but one read through seemed to be enough to jog the memory. I was also finding all sorts of my own minor corrections, cursing the air every few pages as a ridiculous typo jumped out at me. I quickly tried to put such distractions to one side. The main revision ‘event’ took place the day before the viva, where I started sticking neon labels on to a range of pages. I just wanted to make some sort of map of the thesis, mark down where key arguments appeared. I sat sticking neon labels on to paper for the better part of six hours – in the viva, I did not refer to them once. Still, I’m confident that process played its part, I had an instant recall for the position and context of key quotes and themes, a familiarity with my work which surprised myself on the day. As the questions started coming in, I found that I had answers. Maybe one or two questions came as a slight surprise, but I had prepared for all eventualities. In my preparation for the first and cancelled viva, I had pinpointed areas where questions might be asked, and written down, by hand, a page worth of noted responses to each question. I had around eighty of these – it had been some time since I had written so much with a pen in hand. The result was a secondary mind map, full of practiced responses to the more obscure questions that might come my way. I certainly felt tense going in, as if a great weight had been attached to my chest with the expectation that I would carry it around all day. With each question, that tension eased, each response successfully executed felt like a nudge towards successful completion. The actual examination felt very quick, and I don’t think we were in the room for much more than an hour. I had prepared myself for things rumbling away for the better part of two hours, and it was with surprise more than relief, that the examiners began apologising for taking, what they felt, was so long – I would have been happy continuing for some time. Having left the room and grabbed a tea, it was less than ten minutes before I was being called back in. Spilling tea over one hand as I scurried back into the room, I received the news that I wanted to hear – a congratulations. That would have done for me, but some of the platitudes that I received were incredibly touching, and I have no shame in saying that while I was being complimented for my work, I had my tongue firmly bitten in the corner of my mouth to stop myself from bawling my eyes out. That tension, built up from eight months of preparation and waiting was finally over. The words that will last longest in my memory, was being told that my viva defence was the best that the examiners had seen in decades. I usually would not cite something like that, and prefer to keep it private, but for me, those words were the validation I think I had been looking for over these many years. Those were the words that washed away the laziness of London, and the blown distinction of Leicester – I had finally got this academic game sorted. All those shortcomings were obliterated in that moment, and for the first time that I can think of, I feel genuinely confident in my academic potential. I knew I could do this stuff, I think I actually believe I can now. So there we are, a journey that began over a decade ago in London is at an end. Of course, there is that whole needing to find another job thing which is somewhat pressing – and hopefully this will go some way to helping with that, but maybe that can wait until Monday. For now, I can sit back, ignore reality for a moment, and indulge in the ivory tower. Cigar, port, along with some other indulgences all seem in order. Cold, hard reality can wait, I’ll catch up with you next week. After a quest that lasted fourteen years, the start of the next one can wait a day or two. |
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