Dyddiaur/Deiziataer/Diary/Journal

Monday saw my first international visit of the year in the form of five members of the 'Bagad New York' who've come to Breizh/Brittany to play. For the uninitiated, a bagad is a Breton pipe & drum band. Tuesday was my weekly day off and I decided to head for Gwengamp/Guingamp, influenced slightly by having read about 'Le Galopin' on Facebook. I'd seen in the C.B.G.(Central Brittany Journal) that there was a bar restaurant in Callac run by some British people, I'd already tried to go there once on a sunday morning but it was closed; as Callac is on the same road I thought I'd give it another try, this time successfully. It's on the top of the hill on the square where I parked my car. On opening the door into the bar the landlord, or at least the barman, commented on the weather, in French; I ordered a coffee, in French, and was served and replied to similarly; I thought that I might have made a mistake, or perhaps he wasn't the landlord; standing at the bar were three people chatting, and on listening closer, I heard that they were conversing in English, one of them with an accent distinctly Welsh. I butted in, asked him where he was from and he told me that he hails from 'Porth', but is now living in Locarn, Porth is two valleys away from Merthyr in the 'Rhondda'. I hadn't made a mistake either because it turned out that both the landlord, who was the person who served me, & the landlady, at one time also lived in Porth, but she was from Caerleon. In South Wales, the Rhondda in the middle, from Swansea through Maesteg, Bridgend, Aberdare, Merthyr & Rhymney, all share the same accent, which is totally different to that of Cardiff, pronounced as in care. We got into a chat, as one does, about how things have changed, especially in Cardiff, and particularly in the old docks area of 'Tiger Bay', when he mentioned that the red bricked building that we see on the Welsh news was the coal exchange; now the coal exchange in Cardiff was where the first ever million pound deal was made, but it wasn't there, that is the Pierhead Building, the coal exchange is on Mount Stuart Square, I was there three years ago at Meic Steven's party to celebrate his 65th birthday, it was a huge event. The man could not be persuaded and then I wasn't so sure anymore. Anyway I think that I had about three ballons (goblets, which is less than a pint of beer, and six coffees (we drink pints & half-pints over there in Cymru, whereas we drink halves & goblets over here in Llydaw/Brittany), which was very fortuitous given what occurred later on. The pub closed about 10 o'clock, we all said goodbye, and each went his own way, I to Gwengamp. I don't know the town very well, it's mediaeval and not suited for traffic, with not an easy directional system: I managed to manoeuvre my way around the centre to the top of the hill, and as I was going along the road, dead ahead were blazing headlights blocking my way, what's wrong with them, I thought, until two personages with their blue uniforms got out and approached me, I wound down the window - "one way perhaps"? in French, "Oui monsieur"!, came the reply; "your papers please, what are you doing here"?, "I'm looking for the Galopin, I've read about it on Facebook", "I don't know where the Galopin is, blow into this", his partner offered me the machine and duly told the other that the result was negative, to which he, the partner, told me that the pub that I was searching for was in the street behind, that I would have to reverse to the roundabout, and that they would surveille the road; on getting there I turned left the Welsh way, immediately realizing my error, watched by two Gendarmes, I pulled back, turned right, found the pub which closes on tuesdays, then got lost again before re-discovering the centre. I parked my car and headed for an establishment that thirty years ago was 'Ty Jeannette' and is now the 'Glycine', I walked down some steps towards the river, at the bottom of which I espied a Guinness sign on the corner and two people smoking outside; the pub was lit up, so I opened the door into a smallish room with a bar in the corner, differently arranged from the last time I was there; I called a half of Guinness, speaking to the young landlord who told me that he'd only been there for four months. I drank the beer, left two bar stickers, said goodbye, made my way back up the steps and walked around a freezing empty, interestingly aesthetique town; it was about 11 o'clock, nothing else to do, I walked back to my car and drove home.