The lost Eisteddfod

File: eisteddfod191.mp3

Duration: 0:16.00mins

START AUDIO

Commentator one: Is it on? It is working?

Commentator two: I do believe we are live!

Terry Callaghan: Well, good morning Wales! This is Terry Callaghan here with Mack Jones and you are joining us on this most sacred day. That’s right, it is of course March the first, St David’s day.

Mack Jones: Right you are Terry.

Terry Callaghan: So let those dragons fly and show some Welsh pride because today we are making history.

Mack Jones: Right again. See, what we are doing here…

Terry Callaghan: In a field we are, Mack.

Mack Jones: Yes, in a field. And we are sat at a big table with all this equipment, and we are going to be bringing you the first ever recorded Pontypool eisteddfod, as it is happens!

Terry Callaghan: Exciting stuff this is Mack.

Mack Jones: Oh, aye. Has it ever been known for an Eisteddfod to be broadcasted, Terry?

Terry Callaghan: Not to my knowledge Mack! But it looks like we aren’t quite ready for the festivities yet.

Mack Jones: No, no. Still setting up they are.

Terry Callaghan: In that case we will take this time to talk to you about Cartwright’s wheelwrights.

Mack Jones: ‘Cartwright’s will see you right!’

Terry Callaghan: Quite right. You’ve all read the signs: ‘Cartwright’s will see you right’ but that’s not just painted letters on a board. What it is Mack, is a guarantee that any guff you’ve got with your horse and cart. . .

Mack Jones: Or pony.

Terry Callaghan: . . . Or pony. It will soon be put right. I mean, it’s in the name. It’s like he were born to it.

Mack Jones: He was Terry. It was his Granch what started the business. You know my sister is married to his uncle’s third wife’s boy? She says that Cartwright wanted to be a pilot but his granch was failing in his health, you know? So, he had to take over for the old boy.

Terry Callaghan: Aye, I know your sister Mack, good girl she is. Out in the crowd today, I believe. Well, Cartwright is going to have to stay grounded, isn’t he? Because there’s no need for pilots round by here now.

Mack Jones: Right you are, Terry. So, thank you Cartwright’s granch, for giving us a cracking one stop shop for sorting our cartwheels.

Terry Callaghan: Bless his soul up with Jesus. Now Mack, it looks like we’ve got some movement over in the trees.

Mack Jones: Yes, we are starting to see a few hoods bobbing along the treeline. I can see a red hood, a green…

Terry Callaghan: Black, purple...

Mack Jones: Yes, I suppose purple is there too...

Terry Callaghan: Michael Parkins is in the purple robe this year, I believe?

Mack Jones: Right as always, Terry.

Terry Callaghan: Michael Parkins has been a wonderful recent addition to our town, listeners. We were all quite happy for him to join in the ceremony.

Mack Jones: Some more than others . . .Well here they come! The seven robed figures. They will be kicking off the festivities here with the opening ceremony. And the gathered crowd are getting visibly excited.

Terry Callaghan: Indeed.

Mack Jones: The seven robed figures are walking up the hill. All done in the proper way. It has all been passed down from ancient times, see.

Terry Callaghan: Aye, they must perform it quite precisely, Mack. That is why purple is up front. They have the sword, of course. Then it’s orange, and he’s carrying the smoke diffuser.

Mack Jones: Then green comes up, green has the shield.

Terry Callaghan: Dark green now, and carrying a basket.

Mack Jones: Lighter, olive green. They have the handkerchiefs.

Terry Callaghan: Here comes yellow. Unfortunately, we have been told that yellow (our very own Gareth Roach) has had his left hand crushed in a steel press.

Mack Jones: Tragic that is Terry. So he will not be carrying the ceremonial beer jugs in the procession?

Terry Callaghan: Indeed not. Who knows what this could spell for the ceremony?

Mack Jones: There has been talk amongst the crowd here today, of replacing our Gareth for a volunteer.

Terry Callaghan: The trouble with that Mack, is the people wearing them robes have been picked according to our town rites and he cannot be so easily replaced.

Mack Jones: Aye, Terry. Gareth has got to stay in the yellow robe. It doesn’t fit anyone else.

Terry Callaghan: Bringing up the rear then, here comes brown, holding the broom. And that’s the lot of them.

Mack Jones: They will now take their places at each of the seven standing stones.

Terry Callaghan: Purple stands first, on the middle pedestal. And look Mack, he’s waving over to us! Hello! [Laughs]

Mack Jones: …Orange must get up on the tallest stone next.

Terry Callaghan: Orange must be mindful of the smoke diffuser when he makes this move. If the spectators look closely Mack, they might notice several scorch marks on the lower half of the orange robe. Lessons learned from our ancestors.

Mack Jones: Valuable lessons, but will orange heed them?

Terry Callaghan: Christ aye! Look, he’s up on his stone and the crowd is cheering! Good man!

Mack Jones: Now the greens. They mount their stones in unison, all done expertly.

Terry Callaghan: Those boys have been doing this for years, they know what they’re doing. Just like yellow, who is next to mount.

Mack Jones: Will he make it up there with that crushed hand of his? That is the question, Terry.

Terry Callaghan: Yes this could be a difficult one for yellow.

Mack Jones: Hang on, what is going on here?

Terry Callaghan: Oh look! Purple is getting off his stone to give yellow a hand up. What an excellent fellow, here here!

Mack Jones: Not quite, Terry. He has broken the formation of the stones by getting down.

Terry Callaghan: I suppose you are right, Mack.

Mack Jones: I think we ought to call him out, really.

Terry Callaghan: No, no Mack it all seems to be in hand. Look, he’s getting back up now.

Mack Jones: Hmm.

Terry Callaghan: And brown has got up on his stone as well. Well done lads! That means they will start the chanting now.

Mack Jones: Right.

Terry Callaghan: Well, I do not know what we ought to do here for you listeners. When the chanting begins see, there must be complete silence in the crowd.

Mack Jones: Aye. Well, what you want to do listeners, is go out and look at your garden while you listen to the chanting.

Terry Callaghan: Will the microphones pick up the chanting?

Mack Jones: Shh, shh. They are starting.

00:08.32 – 00:10.21 [An indistinguishable chorus. Possibly in Welsh.]

Terry Callaghan: There we have it.

Mack Jones: Bloody lovely that was, Terry.

Terry Callaghan: Quite right, Mack. You know, I do not think I could pick a favourite part.

Mack Jones: Oh come off it, you could. You know mine.

Terry Callaghan: Aye, everyone knows yours, Mack. But look here, the crowd is building up again. They have been good and quiet here in the park but after the chanting comes the passing of the broom.

Mack Jones: I love this bit, I do.

Terry Callaghan: Aye, it certainly is a crowd favourite.

Mack Jones: What happens here listeners, is you get the broom and pass it along through the crowd …

Terry Callaghan: Only to your family and loved ones, mind you.

Mack Jones: Right. You pass it to those who you love, but if the broom is not passed on at least twenty-two times before the jugs of beer are finished, the Eisteddfod will be called off.

Terry Callaghan: Luckily, that has never happened in the recorded history of our town.

Mack Jones: Aye, we’re all faithful to the traditions here, and it would take a great buffoon to break that.

Terry Callaghan: And there it goes! The one in the brown robe passes the broom first, and he passes it to his wife Beryl.

Mack Jones: Beryl now, passing it to her daughter.

Terry Callaghan: Aye, and who will the young lass pass it to?

Mack Jones: Unsure on that one Terry, but she better hurry, the first beer has been finished!

Terry Callaghan: Bless her soul, it looks like her mother Beryl is going to direct her. Yes, there it is. She passes it to her cousin Johno.

Mack Jones: From Johno now, to his sweetheart Ruth.

Terry Callaghan: Lovely couple they are.

Mack Jones: The second beer has been drunk!

Terry Callaghan: Three to go! Come on lads!

Mack Jones: Ruth now, handing the broom to her uncle.

Terry Callaghan: Yes and look at this! Her uncle Gareth is giving it to Michael Parkins, in the purple robe!

Mack Jones: What’s the connection there, Terry?

Terry Callaghan: Hmm. If I have it right, Gareth is related to the Evans clan. Now, the Evans’s have a niece up in Blaenavon, and she’s married to a miner up there by the name of Parkins.

Mack Jones: Right. Well, there goes the third beer, so purple Parkins better pass it on quick.

Terry Callaghan: Indeed. He looks to be scanning the crowd. Oh! He’s found someone; he is making his way to them, and he is going to give it to . . . Lucy Jones.

Mack Jones: No he bloody well is not!

Terry Callaghan: Mack.

Mack Jones: No, Terry. I am not having this! Oh Michael! Come over here now!

Terry Callaghan: Really Mack, what has gone on in your personal life should not…

Mack Jones: That has nothing to do with it, Terry! He has violated our town’s most sacred ceremony; he has handed the broom to someone he has nothing to do with! My sister is not his loved one!

Terry Callaghan: Oh Mack.

Mack Jones: Parkins!

Terry Callaghan: It looks like the purple-robed Mr Parkins has heard my fellow commentator and is approaching the correspondence table.

Unknown voice, presumed to be that of Michael Parkins: What can I…

Terry Callaghan: Mack, no!

Mack Jones: Come here you bloody [ … ]

Terry Callaghan: Mack! Pack it in!

[Interference]

Mack Jones: […] give it to my sister, will you!?

[Interference]

Terry Callaghan: My sincere apol…

End of audio.