Pum mlynedd


Bore da, gorgeous baba.

Pum mlynedd yn ôl i rŵan oni’n crynu yn fy sgidiau. Oni’n probably trio gweithio allan sut yn y byd naeth rhywun mor beautiful â ti gytuno i gyfarfod fi. Ac ar ben hyne; gwallt i’r chwith neu i’r dde?!?! 😉

Dros y bum mlynedd dwetha ti wedi neud fi mor hapus. Taswn i ‘di gallu creu rhywun i garu allan o awyr tenai (I’m avin that!!!), bysen nhw dal ddim mor berffaith â ti.

Dwi mor sori mod i ddim yne efo ti heddiw ond, fel mae’r cerdyn yn deud (spoiler alert!!), dwi bendant yne efo ti mewn ysbryd.
I fod yn hollol onest efo ti, oni’n meddwl byswn i’n teimlo’r hiraeth dwi wastad yn teimlo pan dwi i ffwrdd dros Gymru a dros fod adre ond dydi hyne ddim wedi digwydd tro ‘ma. Dim ond drosto ti dwi ‘di teimlo’r hiraeth.

Ddim yn hir a fydda i ‘nôl efo ti i barhau i drefnu’n priodas ni – dwi mor excited.
O heddiw den ni’n gallu edrych ymlaen at y bum mlynedd nesa yn ein bywyd…. a’r ddeng mlynedd nesa…. a’r ungain mlynedd nesa…. tan diwedd y byd.

Diolch am fod yne i fi – BOB TRO. Diolch am helpu fi ac am wella fi fel person. A diolch am garu fi. Sneb mor lwcus â fi rhwng Lesotho ag ochr pellach y bydysawd – ac mae hyne yn hollol oherwydd ti.

Am byth.


Everybody needs good neighbours

For years I’ve read, pondered, written about, discussed, posted, made videos of, shared and spoken publically about the vast benefits awaiting Wales as an independent nation.

Put simply, the fact is that Wales is big enough; Wales is clever enough; Wales is resourceful enough. Wales can easily be an independent country.

Feel free to take a minute to skim back through my various excuses for blog-articles to see why I’m so confident in an independent Wales. Today, however, my sights lie set not on what will make us successful, my sights lie on after our independence day.

Let’s jump ahead a few years (hopefully not too many) into a time where Wales governs itself fully. The first vision that comes to my mind is encapsulated in a quotation by Adam Price;

“[Let’s] conduct a quick thought experiment: imagine by some miracle of medical science you’re transported, mind and body intact, to Wales in the year 2050. And imagine that this Wales is independent. Does your heart miss a beat with a mini throb of pride – ‘bloody hell, we did it!’ – or a sense of sadness and loss? …. Aren’t you a little inspired, or at the very least intrigued?”

I know exactly how I’d feel.

But independence for our mythical nation isn’t all about the fairytail legends and if-onlys. We have to think practically also.

Despite my belief that Wales will handle itself exceptionally when governed by those who call Wales their home, the ‘English question’ will still remain. What of our friends from across Offa’s Dyke?

We must not be naïve to ignore the fact that, as seperate nations, Wales will ‘need’ England as much as England will ‘need’ us. ‘Sabotage’ of one another’s laws or ‘burdening’ each other’s taxes will no longer be a problem but, geographically speaking, neither of us are moving anywhere anytime soon.

We’ll need to cooperate maturely – just like EVERY other nation who shares a land border with another nation in this world does.

People will still be free to move, visit and live. Companies will still cross into each other’s country for business. Only our governments will be different.

But when the UK dissolves and England is independent, what England will it be?

Will it be one who shares values of heritage, companionship, hard work and freedom? Or will it choose the path of neo-fascism, xenophobia, hatred and fear? Might it be the new Wales who chooses hatred and fear whilst England prioritises friendship and love? The point is, we’re different – which can be as wonderful as it can be frightening.

Even with ultimate control over our resources, education, transport, taxes, ideas, institutions…. with every single power moulded by Wales’ sovereign hands, one old cliché will always remain…. you can’t pick your neighbours.

Be nice.



Fel siaradwr Cymraeg sy’n gwario llawer iawn gormod o amser ym myd y trydarwyr nag y dylse fod, mae’n anodd osgoi’r llu o gyfrifon a grwpiau sy’n chwilio am (ac weithiau’n derbyn yn uniongyrchol eu hunain) sylwadau yn erbyn ein hiaith.
Am flynyddoedd ‘rwyf wedi dilyn y fath grwpiau – yn aml iawn yn dewis herio’r rhai a wna’r sylwadau amheus am yr iaith treuliais flynyddoedd lawer i’w dysgu. Yn anffodus (ond efallai yn ôl disgwyl sinigaidd), yn aml iawn mai sylwadau’r rhai a symudodd i Gymru o dros Glawdd Offa wrth iddyn nhw gyrraedd oedran ymddeol ydyn nhw.
Bellach mae grwpiau ar gael sy’n gwneud pethau tebyg mewn Gaeleg yr Alban hefyd – pob un yn treillio dyfnderoedd y we am y rhai sy’n dioddef, am wn i, o’r salwch cyfoes a phoblogaidd; diflastod!

Ond oes pwynt i rannu’r fath deimladau sy’ gyn bobl eraill am ein hieithoedd? Beth ‘den ni’n trïo ei brofi?
I fi’n bersonnol, mae amlygu enghreifftiau o ‘Gymrophobia’ naill ai yn dangos yr hyn a wyddom yn barod – sef ‘rydyn ni’n byw mewn gwlad lle mae’n dderbyniol i godi hwyl am bob elfen o’n treftadaeth a’n diwylliant – neu ‘wrach, i lygad y byd mawr, ‘den ni’n ‘bitw’ iawn bob tro dywedir unrhyw beth o’i le amdanom.
‘Rydyn ni bendant yn byw mewn oes lle mae ymosod, gwneud sylw a theimlo fel bod eraill yn ein tramgwyddo yn gyffredin iawn ac yn dderbyniol iawn. Ond, ar y llaw arall, onid ydy pob person, cred, gwlad a syniad yn derbyn sylwadau anghytûn weithiau? Oni ddylsen ni jyst yn ei oddef?

I minnau, yn achos grwpiau fel ‘Cymrophobia,’ mae’n rhaid bod ‘ne falans rhwng tynnu sylw at y rhai sy’n ein drygliwio ac, yn syml iawn, dderbyn ac anwybyddu weithiau.
Wrth i bob sylw negyddol a dynnir atom gael ei rannu a’i feirniadu, crëir teimlad ein bod ni fel Cymry ond yn cwyno.
Onid oes gan bawb hawl at ei farn? Ac felly, onid oes gan bawb hawl i ymateb i farn eraill? Ym mhob achos – oes, wrth gwrs.
Ond hefyd ddylsen ni, ar adegau, ddysgu pryd a sut y dewiswn ein brwydrau?
Yn union fel mae, er enghraifft, gwneud penderfyniad bywyd i ddweud ‘diolch’ a pheidio dweud ‘thanks’ (hyd yn oed wrth sgwrsio’n uniaith Saesneg), mae newid hinsawdd yn y ffordd ‘den ni’n ymateb i’r hyn a glywswn am ein hiaith yn un anodd, ond un hefyd sy’n angenrheidiol er mwyn osgoi parhau i gael ein diffinio fel cael ‘sglodyn ar ein hysgwydd.’

Oes, mae’n rhaid amddiffyn ein hiaith ond mae perygl wedyn y try ein diwylliant yn un sy’ ond yn amddiffyn. Pe wariem ein hamser oll yn diogelu’n hiaith, a fysen ni wedyn yn fforffedu’r cyfle i ledaenu ein hiaith fel un sy’n gadarn yn ei lle fel iaith y byd?

Iaith gref nid iaith gul.


No Visca Delay

Whenever my mam comes round she always comments on how much my cat has grown since the last time she saw her. For myself and Angharad, who live with her day in day out, she doesn’t seem to have grown at all. It only sinks in when we scroll through our Instagram feeds and compare her size to when we first got her. The phenomenon of not noticing progression (especially when it’s directly in front of you) is extremely common in life.

Last year I took a few hours out of being totally a Welsh teacher to also be a history teacher. Part of the scheme of work discussed and analysed the road between both World Wars – Germany’s Wiemar Republic and the League of Nations.
As a teacher constantly trying to understand the psychology of my students in order to empathise with their learning experience and offer the teaching I feel best suits their needs, I find large parts of my lesson planning watching various slideshows and videos attempting to myself in the students’ shoes. One side-effect of this philosophy on teaching is how I interpret myself the information I’m about to teach.
When discussing the timeline of significant events between the wars, I often fall into the trap of thinking that the time taken, for example, for the League of Nations’ failure with Japan and their failure with Italy was long. In truth, it was merely 3 years. When we look deeper into the events that led to WW2, we see that significant events happened once every few days.

As people inhabiting the British isles, it’s easy for us to let the events in Catalunya pass us by. From the terrible scenes of Spanish police battering people simply because they wanted to cast a vote merely two weeks ago, to more recent news that, essentially, a warrant for the arrest of the Catalan President has been granted by the Spanish authorities (despite the fact they no longer have jurisdiction in Catalunya) which could see Carles Puidemont face 30 years in prison for ‘treason.’
As the news trickles down through our ever-biased media we can feel that the cause for Catalans is quitening and we are allowed to ‘lay of the gas’ with regards to showing our support for Europe’s newest nation. There is no doubt that the volatility of the situation in Catalunya at present could easily escalate to being not only a Catalan-Spanish problem, but also a European and a global one.

As a warning from the past: Do not hold back in your support of the Catalan people and their democratic right to self-determination.

Visca Catalunya Lliure.
Saf Cymru gyda chwi.

The Nearly Men

Wales are now ranked below the Faroe Islands in 112th place in the latest FIFA rankings …. is it time for Wales to admit they will never qualify for a major tournament?TalkSPORT, 27th July 2011.

Anyone who classes themselves as Welsh and vaguely enjoys the sport involving 22 men, a spherical ball and 2 sets of goalposts therefore also truly understands sporting heartache.
Only once in the entire 141 years of Welsh football history has our nation qualified for a major tournament without being invited. Up until that point, supporters have endured not only heart-wrenching dispair but also a dwindling interest in the national side. By the early 2010s, we had fallen to 112th in the world – lower than such renowned footballing nations as Benin, Suriname and the Faroe Islands.
It was at our lowest point that a scheme was formulated to start again. Much like Alex Ferguson did with Manchester United in the early 1990s, many of Wales’ often popular names were fizzled out to be replaced with, to a large extent, a wholly new crop. It was an optimistic leap of faith to say the least. Players who had been on the teamsheet before an opponent was even decided were disgarded for a group of youngsters who had grown through the ranks of Welsh football together – rather than via dribs and drabs.
Despite being an avid supporter of the Welsh team (and of football in general) since the early ‘90s, Wales’ Euro 2016 qualifiers and finals tournament made me notice something I’d never before seen in football – the difference between, say, a centreback looking to his left and seeing a leftback, and a centreback looking to his left and seeing his friend.
This group of men were not teammates – they were mates. Perhaps one would sooner fail for a teammate than for a mate? Whatever the reason, my memories of Bordeaux in early June of 2016 prove it worked.

Trwy ddulliau chwyldro’n unig y mae llwyddo – John Saunders Lewis, Tynged yr Iaith, 1962

Who cares about the reason behind Wales’ rise in international footballing renown? Either way, one thing is certain – it took a radical alteraration to bring about change and, ultimately, success.
In honesty, there are many occasions that I notice in life that would benefit from a radical change in behaviour…. the whole Welsh political structure, for one!

Another is the Welsh language and the way it is perveived by the ever-declining (however slowly) numbers of young people who are not yet fluent in the language for whatever reason.
It’s no secret that the hearts and minds of young people are warming more to the fact our nation has two languages – especially when compared with the poor attitudes towards it for large parts of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
Even in the relatively short time I’ve been teaching Welsh to those young people not yet fluent in the language I have noticed a huge shift in openness and willingness to let the ancient tongue become a part of their lives in various capacities. It truly is heartwarming.

Not only hear it but understand it

Looking at the bigger picture, however, the teaching of Welsh through the medium of English is certainly not without its flaws. There is no doubt that huge numbers of students leave with positive outlooks on the language but rarely (if ever) do they leave fluent. All I ever wanted to do in school was to learn Welsh yet even memorising a Welsh dictionary from cover to cover prepared me for the leap between my knowledge of the language and my confidence to use it.
One thing I certainly do remember from my time as a youngster learning Welsh were the occasions, probably due to their rarity where I lived, when I heard the language spoken in the streets. The only thing that ever elipsed those feats werethe times when I first began to notice that I could not only hear it…. but undertand it.
The differences in the self confidence and pride for a young person to say ‘I heard someone speaking Welsh today’ and ‘I heard someone speaking Welsh today and I understood most of it’ are not only enormous, but they might just save our language.

Since my early 20s, when I first began to admit my fluency in Welsh and rid myself of the ‘dysgwr’ (learner) tag, I have strived to share the wonderful aura that comes not only from learning a language but from learning the formerly-declining language of the people who forged our fine nation across centuries.
Much like my taid (grandfather) used to say; “always leave a place tidier than when you found it,” I am committed to ensuring, not only that every one of my students leave my classroom with at least a little bit more Welsh than when they walked in, but that the Welsh language is in a stronger state when I snuff it than it was when I was born.
Young people are the key. They are the future of this nation and are paramount in the on-going mission of reinstating Wales’ prized cultural gem into the hearts and minds of those lucky enough to call Wales their home.

Can we not learn to speak two forms of Welsh – a Welsh for speakers and a Welsh for learners?

We, as Welsh speakers, must not only subtly yet obviously offer the provision for young people to hear us using Welsh but we must also ensure that they understand us too.
Now I could blindly proclaim to know all the answers and/or patroniaingly show off all the ways I’ve radically altered my life when using the Welsh language around others but, in the true values of revolutionary change, I instead implore those who speak our language to not only make changes in your use of the language in speech but to also take the time to ponder ways for yourself.

And to those who worry that natural Welsh will subsequently die a death were we all to use our language with non-fluent speakers in mind I ask this; Can we not learn to speak two forms of Welsh – a Welsh for speakers and a Welsh for learners?
Let’s not be the generation who tiptoed into the future and took our language no further than it was 30 years before. Let’s grab it and make it a part of who we are. Let’s be sympathetic and welcoming to others. Let’s not accept a Scottish handball in ‘77. Let’s not hit the bar against Romania in ‘93. Let’s not give away a free kick to Russia in 2003.
We are Wales – and whether it’s in football or in language, we don’t really do ‘nearly’ any more.




Wales’ fantastic landscape produces water > English water companies take water for free > English water companies sell water > Some water is SOLD back to Wales making a profit to water companies > Welsh people get water > Wales’ fantastic landscape produces water > English water companies take water for free > etc


Wales’ fantastic landscape produces water > Welsh water companies sell water to Welsh people at reduced rates as there’s no desire for huge profits > Excess water is sold to England at competitive and non-break-the-bank rates > Money from selling water used goes to the people of Wales > Wales’ fantastic landscape produces water > Welsh water companies sell water to Welsh people at reduced rates as there’s no desire for huge profits > etc


Independence (noun.)

Funny word, that.

Without reaching for a dictionary I can clearly tell that its meaning is the polar opposite to dependence.

Dependence (noun.)

Funny word, that.

Without reaching for a dictionary I can tell that its meaning implies dependency on an external body.

You can tell I’ve had an education, huh?

Nations who are yet to realise independence are therefore dependent on another, correct?

It must be!

I mean, there can no inbetween here.
Like a light bulb. It’s either on or off. Unless, of course, it’s one of those power-saving ones that have an intermediate setting of uselessly-dim when it’s first switched on.
Ok, so that was a poor analogy!

How about when I ask my students if they’ve completed their work and they reply with “nearly, sir.” To which I respond, “nearly means ‘no.’ Get on with it!”?

So, as Wales, for example, is yet to win her independence, we are a ‘dependent nation.’

But on whom are we dependent exactly?

When one reads the facts it becomes excitingly clear that Wales isn’t quite as dependent on England as it may seem.

One of the most common counter arguments from those opposing Welsh self-governance is that we’re dependent on England.
In most, if not all, cases of when someone ignorantly (yet somehow proudly) proclaims that Wales is dependent on our friends from over Offa’s Dyke they have very little else to offer.
Whether one is to agree with their statement that Wales is dependent on England or not, the laws of mature debate dictate that they should at least elaborate. Otherwise they can (and should) be countered with being asked whether they have evidence to back up their claim or did they simply hear if from an Anglo-British nationalist/unionist mouthpiece and therefore it must be true?

When one reads the facts it becomes excitingly clear that Wales isn’t quite as dependent on England as it may seem.
It’s true that any nation with a population the size of England’s will pay more in, for example, taxes than a nation with a smaller population but, when compared proportionately, I reckon we pay about the same. Obviously.

To be honest, England depends on Wales for so much – not least energy and resources.
As an independent nation, not only will Wales harness 100% of the natural resources it produces – making us surely the first nation in the world to be totally suffient on renewable energy alone (much to the certain annoyance of profit-driven, global energy corporations) – but we will have enough energy to export to whomever we choose…. for a small profit, of course. Much like various Swiss cantons do when providing water to other Swiss regions, in fact.
I’m confident that Wales’ prices for our excess resources would not bankrupt England either. We’re not bitter.
Wouldn’t that be far better than giving, for example, our water away for free…. only for it to be then sold back to Welsh border areas at the profits of the water companies who got it for free (from Wales) in the first place?
It’s complete madness!

Add that to the vast savings Wales will make on not paying for England’s projects like HS2 (or whatever they fancy doing in a few years), Trident and Buckingham Palace’s multiple and multi-million-pound rennovations.
Starting to sound more viable by the minute, huh?

We are not dependent.

History proves over and over that invasive nations only allow complete restoration of power to their plundered colonies when they’ve suffiently stripped said plundered colonies of the resources they require. In England’s case, to be fair to them, at least they leave the sport of cricket in return for gold, jewels, man-power and tea.
Look it up!

Now is the time to ensure that we can enjoy the beauties of sovereignty before we’re turned into simply a retirement home and a place to rehabilitate those who England decided to incarcerate whilst our potential resource-rich economy is bankrupted.

We are not dependent.

And when we are not dependent, that can only mean one thing.

Orbituary from a passer-by

My first ever football match was at the Cae Ras. Wrecsam 2-2 Stockport County.I didn’t really care much for the football. My five-year-old self just wanted to get down on the pitch and kick a ball around with the players.

With my dad a season ticket holder at Liverpool since before I was born, my early teen years were spent in Anfield’s Centenary Stand. 4 rows up. Right on the halfway line. All my mates were proper jealous.

As I reached my late teens (and ever since), my loyalties returned to the Cae Ras.
I remember paying £7 for a space at the back of the Kop with a few lads from Llai I knew from school. I never had enough money for a Wrecsam shirt so I’d always wear my red Wales shirt – the Kappa-huggy one.
Still got that, actually!

Having witnessed Liverpool’s Kop in full voice I was never intimidated by the atmosphere on the Kop of the Cae Ras, but I always remember wondering how less people (compared to the 10,000-or-so in Anfield) could make just as much noise.
One guy, perched in between the hustle and bustle of us all, was pointed out to me by a friend. He was the ring-leader of all our songs. He never stopped singing. “They call him ‘Jacko’,” my friends would say.

Sometimes I’d see his face elsewhere. Once in the programme of the 2005 LDV Vans Trophy final. A few more times in other matchday programmes. Then more recently in person, week-in week-out, in the Eric Roberts end.
Before kick off, my mate and I would always play a little game of ‘ffeindio Jacko’ (find Jacko) on matchday. 9 times out of 10 we’d hear him before we spotted him jostled amongst the 1864 faithful.

I only ever spoke to him once. In fact, it was due to his welcoming and open nature that he spoke to me. Just a simple ‘alright?’ at an away game down in Jester. I felt like I’d spoken to a celebrity.
To be fair, I had.

Sometimes a club owes its very ethos to its fans – and, in honesty, that’s the case at Wrecsam. But if we’re all blunt and truthful, there’ll only ever be one guy who will always be ‘Mr Wrecsam.’

Cwsg mewn hedd, Jacko.

God’s own

Growing up, religion was as important to me as politics, responsibilities and mortgages…. id est, not at all.
I was never baptised and never set foot in a church until my nain passed away.

The only ways religion touched my life were the songs we sang in primary school assemblies and the prayers we said before dinner time – looking back now (as a teacher myself), I understand these instances only to be ones encouraged by our teachers because they were professionally obliged to do so.

As I grew into my teens, religion became only something I understood to be the main reason behind the world’s disagreements. The only time I ever even slightly considered religion to be of use was one lad’s determination in high school that being spotted by teachers saying the Lord’s Prayer during assembly meant you didn’t get shouted at as much in lessons. Quite the claim.

My disassociation with religion continued, and continues, to this day.
It’s in no way that I’m against faith – I know that many find solace and harmony in it – but I guess I’m yet to appreciate that side of it. My sceptical mind ensures that I probably never will. Perhaps that’s sad in itself, but I can at least say I find faith and solitude via other means.

Occasionally I pity religion and its attempts to encourage others to it – particularly Christianity (seeing as that’s the primary faith of those around whom I live) – even though I’m sure all of the world’s religions and faiths struggle to find new blood to carry their flame into the uncertain future.
I pity it because, for me at least, its followers are fighting a losing battle.
It’s definitely no secret that more and more people are either turning their backs on religion completely or are simply too busy to find a place for it in their fast-paced, modern lives.

It must be hard to remain relevant in this modern world.
Often I see small chapels and churches offering youth-friendly gatherings to encourage youngsters to faith. On many occasions, I find myself wanting to place my slowly-shaking head in my hands at the sight of their various events and advertisements; all the time realising that their recruitment techniques have reduced themselves to mere pittiful gimmicary.
Stop trying so hard!

But that’s the Cache-22. In order to remain relevant, Christianity (and many religions) must fight in any way it can to maintain its purpose. No longer is the promise of ‘heaven’ and the warning of ‘hell’ enough to turn non-believers into regular church-goers.
I suppose science and its numerous reality-based answers to questions previously too perilous to even consider has deemed faith nothing more than irrelevent. It’s sad, certainly, but it’s true.

As a teacher of a language creeping up to two millennia in age, I am constantly aching to share with students why I know the Welsh language is relevant.
However, over my past seven years as a teacher, it often, surprisingly, pains me to hear students say that they enjoy my lessons.
It pains me to think that, despite the fact they’re leaving my classroom with more knowledge of our national language then when they walked in, they might primarily enjoy my gimmicy PowerPoint presentations and quirky, yet often cringy, vocab’ videos.
Learning Welsh might, for them, simply be a ‘side effect’ of a fun way to spend an hour behind a desk.

As much as wonderful examination results year on year fill me with genuine pride in each and every student, I worry as to whether they’re minds, loaded with vocabulary and phrases as ammunition, are brave enough to use their acquired skills in the real world.
I think of students past and remind myself of their abilities in lessons – knowing their standard of Welsh is far better than mine when I was at their age.
I went on to learn Welsh (something I will always consider my greatest achievement)…. will they bridge the gap between having the knowledge and having the guts to step into daily-use fluency?

Do students yearn for trips to Glan-llyn to practise their Welsh or to get away from their parents for a weekend and spend time with their mates?
Do adults scramble to find local Welsh classes to arm themselves with the tools to ask for a pint at their local watering hole in Welsh or simply to jazz up their CVs?

It’s no secret that those attempting to promote and encourage the Welsh language work tirelessly to get our nation conversing in Welsh. There is certainly no shortage of events all over this land offering opportunities to experience the language.
But what if we’re trying too hard? What if our attempts to encourage Wales’ native tongue are the final gasps of a community spirit that has no place in an evolving world? What place, if any, will Welsh have in years to come?

When I see chapels opening their doors to young people with the hope of turning their heads to faith, deep down even my science-ridden outlook tells me those attending are there only to take selfies with friends and organise their weekend outing to McDonald’s and Starbucks.

Now and again I consider how the rôle of education in incorporating religion into children’s everyday lives has had only a detrimental effect (simply by, perhaps, trying too hard) in its attempts to embed itself into commonplace.
I worry that, as a schooled subject rather than a ‘natural’ and common phenomenon, Welsh has become much like religion; on a one-way road to oblivion.

My mind forces me to question whether my life-choice of replacing the word ‘thanks’ with ‘diolch’ (even when conversing otherwise wholly in English) has, in the eyes of those to whom I say it, reduced itself to a gimmic – much like people of faith wishing God’s blessing upon non-believers.

And there again appears our Cache-22. Should we, as those ‘burderned’ with encouraging the use of Welsh, not sink to levels of gimmicary then perhaps our language might not endure. Yet at the same time were we not to at least make an attempt to remain relevant through gimmicary, would our goal of a bilingual populous become merely an unachievable dream?

Like science has indirectly turned the masses away from religion with its wondrous explanation of our cosmos and everything in it, so has the English language with all its free-flowing ease and global appeal turned the tides of speech against Welsh.

So, as to stand in solidarity with others in their struggle to endure the tests of a modern world, I shall lower my guard against religion and faith and bid all the blessing of whosoever your god(s) may be and pray to them that Welsh will, forever and ever, be a part of the fabric of our divine land.

Wales is, after all, God’s own country and the Welsh language itself ‘iaith y nefoedd’ (the language of the heavens).