ON POETRY, WRITING AND RANDOM CULTURAL MATTERS

Sunday, 28 December 2014

Dylan Thomas - One last post for 2014

I spent the early part of the year re-reading and thinking about Dylan Thomas. Things trailed off the nearer we came to his centenary in October, I don't know why. I was sort-of-not-quite-then-not going to be involved in a production of Under Milk Wood, so perhaps I went into a bit of a sulk, or perhaps I just didn't want to compete with the rest of the media for attention, who after all reads my little blog? But it's Christmas time and, of course, how can we forget -  Mrs Prothero and the Firemen.

Dylan's A Child's Christmas in Wales is still as popular as ever, lovely new editions are published regularly, variously illustrated for both children and adult consumption. Mine is somewhere, but not here in Paris, so this post is from memory.

If you have never read it (or failed to hear Cerys Matthews reading it on the radio on Christmas Eve), do. It's not as corny as you might think and is packed with Dylan wickedness. It's heart warming and will make you laugh.

When I was a child I always fancied being an arctic explorer from Mumbles, or one of the boys snowballing cats in the back garden, putting rocks in the snowballs first (I hate cats, but that's another post), or Mrs Prothero's sister entirely un-phased by the fire, who descends the stairs and asks the firemen if they would like something to read.

Now there's a woman with the right priorities. Happy Christmas/New Year/Whatever. Opens new book and starts.

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