麻豆约拍

From Leslie Griffiths, Methodist Minister: 聽 聽 聽聽

Saint David's Day is almost upon us, for every Welshman a day filled with memories. When I entered the senior section of Llanelli Boys鈥� Grammar School, for example, I remember how the first thing that happened, the minute registration was over, was a voice test. Every pupil was put in a male voice choir and it was vital that we knew the part we'd have to sing. I was classed as a 鈥渟econd bass鈥� which meant that my voice, just broken, was judged to be as deep as one of our local coal mines. Soon we were preparing for our Saint's day when we鈥檇 have to pit our talents alongside others in a ferocious competition for the annual prize. In those pre-television days this, make no doubt about it, was the West Wales equivalent of the Oscars. We had categories for best conductor, best soloist, best accompanist, best harmonies and I don鈥檛 know what else.

Wales knows how to sing. How heart- and heaven-rending in a good hymn are the outbursts of pure joy, crashing major chords that explode from introspective and plaintive music set in a minor key? Just asking such a question gives me goose pimples. But it's not just hymns. The Rev. Eli Jenkins, in Dylan Thomas's Under Milk Wood, hears Polly Garter, a woman who's lived a colourful life, singing as she does her washing. He exclaims in pure rapture: 鈥淧raise the Lord, for we are a musical nation.鈥� He then goes on to recite his evening poem, pleading with God to bless his fellow villagers, to protect them through the hours of the night, and to forgive their little foibles. As he puts it: 鈥淔or Thou, I know, wilt be the first to see our best side not our worst.鈥�

I鈥檒l be wearing my leek proudly on Sunday. Mind you, if our rugby team loses to France on Saturday, I may wear it upside down as a sign of mourning.聽