Another day at the Eisteddfod and this time I took another route through mountain lanes arriving at the Pwll end to a glorious view of the Gower coastline. I remember someone once saying that we were the lucky ones in Llanelli as we look out onto the Gower while 'THEY' look onto Llanelli. Well this week must be an exception as they look over and see the maes in all its glory.
I roamed around as usual looking for my victims. They came by way of elderly people just exiting the morning worship service. Damn they looked smart all suited and booted and in their sunday best. although the main areas were relatively empty at this time of the morning there were unusually large crowds of people standing around chatting or else sitting down enjoying a cuppa. Some thumbed through maps and programmes and some looked utterly lost.
Sometimes you just walk into something and that something hits you like a ton of Trimsaran bricks. This was the case as I entered one of the theatres and came face to face with Dawnswyr Talog performing Llyn y Fan Fach. It started quietly with the narrator in top hat and tails telling us the story of Llyn y Fan Fach. Gradualy the stage filled with dancers looking beautiful in Llyn y Fan Fach blue dresses. The main characters burst onto the stage and the energy levels were stepped up. A Welsh lady (Mum) chased and belted her son around the stage as he kept asking for fresh bread. The bread I assume was to give to the lady of the lake who duly arrived and wowed us all with her dancing, singing and acting. The story unfurled and after numerous dances involving jumping vets and the whole cast the pair were wed, had a baby and lived happily ever after. The finale saw the cast taking a bow and receiving a tremendous applause form a packed theatre. I was so glad I accidently walked into that one.
In short the story of Myfanwy is that many men went to Dinas Brân to court her, but she had nothing to do with them, even if they were rich and handsome because they were unable to compose and sing poems that supposedly reflected the depth of her beauty.
Only one man, Hywel ap Einion, a penniless young bard who lived in the valley below the castle, was said to have the talent to satisfy Myfanwy.
Luckily, Hywel was in love with Myfanwy, and one day he plucked up the courage to climb up the hill to the castle with his harp, to sing and play to her.
He was allowed in to play for her, and while playing and complimenting her on her beauty she was said to have been unable to either listen or look at any other man. Because of this Hywel believed that she had fallen in love with him. But his hopes were dashed when a richer, more handsome and more eloquent lover arrived on the scene. Hywel, discarded and quickly forgotten by Myfanwy, composed a poem to his lost love:
If Myfanwy had been in the pink pavillion today she would have been won over by a number of men and women who formed the Cardiff Brass Band. Their rendition of Myfanwy was outstanding and yes, once more I wept. All the thoughts of family and friends living and dead filled my head. Music has the power to trigger so much memory. That is one performance I will remember for many years to come.