Eisteddfod

For over 40 years, in the first week of every August, this is what I do.

Along with another 150,000 other people.

The National Eisteddfod of Wales is the largest

festival of competitive music and poetry in Europe.

Eight days solid of competition and performance.

It's become something of a family tradition to pitch up

at the Eisteddfod every year.

And I'm going to give you an insider's guide

to some of the many traditions that make up this unique event.

This year the Eisteddfod is in Llanelli in South West Wales, and

for one week this town will become the cultural capital of Wales.

The tradition of Welsh artists coming together to

compete at an Eisteddfod dates all the way back to the 12th century.

Eistedd means to sit, and Eisteddfod originally meant a sitting,

a session, a coming together.

And even to this day, the highlight of the festival is to watch

a man or a woman sitting in a very special chair.

So, parking one's posterior is one of the oldest traditions

in Welsh culture.

Winning the chair, or being crowned in it,

as a Prifardd, or principal bard, is still every poet's ambition.

Every year a new chair is specially carved

and presented as a prize to the winning poet.

He or she has to write an awdl,

a 250-line poem on a specific subject, and all in strict metre.

And this is this year's chair.

Isn't it beautiful?

And as a nation looks on...

a poet will be chaired.

There's even more excitement surrounding the competition this year

But someone did win the other main poetry prize, the crown.

And that someone was me.

I've won it twice now, in 2013 and in 1999,

and it's an extraordinary feeling to be up there

in the middle of that elaborate ceremony that

you've seen so many times before

and yet when you're in the midst of it you start to panic,

thinking, what am I supposed to do next?

And so it becomes a slightly surreal experience

and yet it's a tremendous honour nonetheless.

The ceremony itself is conducted by the Gorsedd of the Bards.

HE SINGS IN WELSH

If you roll back the years through the ceremonies of the past,

you'd think that the Gorsedd in their druidic robes

had been around since time immemorial.

But looks can be deceptive.

Unlike the Eisteddfod, these druids are a relatively modern invention,

with their roots in North London, of all places.

Welsh people have been coming to live and work in London for centuries.

In our family, my great-grandfather was the first to come here

from Breconshire in 1886. He worked as a draper in Oxford Street.

I was born about three miles that way, in Muswell Hill.

But this is Primrose Hill, and it was here, in London,

that the first ever Gorsedd of the Bards was convened, in 1792.

It was convened by a stonemason from Glamorgan who came here to

showcase what he claimed was the ancient druidic tradition of Wales.

His name was Edward Williams. Or to give him his preferred bardic name,

Iolo Morganwg.

Rhian Medi is a London-based member of the Gorsedd of the Bards

who successfully campaigned for a plaque to commemorate Iolo Morganwg

here on Primrose Hill.

He was a man full of contradictions,

a chatterbox, a polymath,

genius, self-taught, erm...

Probably would have been the life and soul of the party, I would imagine.

He sort of put together all these jigsaws of Welsh history and created

a plausible past and convinced everyone that that was the truth.

Iolo claimed that druidic tradition had been

handed down from the distant past, that he

was one of the two surviving recipients of druidic lore,

but the truth of the matter is that the Gorsedd ceremonies

all originated in Iolo's fertile imagination.

This is an excerpt from the Morning Chronicle's account

of one of Iolo's ceremonies performed here.

"Some Welsh bards resident in London assembled in congress

"on Primrose Hill, according to ancient usage,

"which required that it should be in the eye of the public observation,

"in the open air, in a conspicuous place,

"and whilst the sun is above the horizon.

"The wonted ceremonies were observed.

"A circle of stones was formed, in the middle of which was

"the Maen Gorsedd, or altar, on which,

"a naked sword being placed, all the bards assisted to sheathe it.

"On occasion the bards appeared

"in the insignia of their various orders."

There was a general interest in druidism during the 18th century,

so there was a receptive audience for Iolo's theories and ceremonies.

But even if they weren't as ancient and traditional as he claimed,

they have subsequently become traditional,

and Iolo succeeded in creating a new Welsh institution.

It might seem strange that he chose to hold his first Gorsedd here in London.

This is where it was all happening.

There was nowhere in Wales.

This is the capital, this is where

he had to come with his ideas and his projects, and he realised this.

Iolo Morganwg was one of the main forces behind the incredible

renaissance that Welsh culture experienced during the second half

of the 18th century.

And, as a London Welshman, I'm quite proud of the fact

that many of the seminal events of that renaissance

took place here, in London.

Later I'll be tracking down the first ever chair that

Iolo Morganwg used at an Eisteddfod.

And we'll be finding out if somebody will claim this year's chair.

It's not just poets that go head-to-head in an Eisteddfod.

Over 6,000 people come here to compete in over 200 competitions.

They come from all sorts of different backgrounds

and from all over the world.

WOMAN SINGS IN WELSH

Genod Gwyrfai is a new choir based in Waunfawr, a small village in Snowdonia.

They number teachers, nurses, farmers' wives and council workers

amongst their members, and there's an international contingent, too.

I'm originally from Ohio. I come from a town called Dayton, Ohio.

I went to a university called the University of Rio Grande

and that's where I met my husband, who's from Porthmadog originally.

He was there on a football scholarship

and I was studying on a music scholarship

and we happened to meet each other and the rest is history, as they say.

I'd never heard of Wales before, before I'd met him,

and here I am 12 years later, living in Wales.

Genod Gwyrfai have travelled six hours by bus to the Eisteddfod

to compete in the competition for choirs with fewer than 35 members.

For us particularly, with Genod Gwyrfai, it's very social,

it's about having fun and making friends

and just getting together

and doing something you enjoy with the people that

live in your community, so from that point of view we don't take

ourselves too seriously, but then,

if you're going to compete in the National Eisteddfod,

you don't want to make a fool of yourself either.

It was a tough competition, with seven other choirs competing,

and Genod Gwyrfai just missed out on a top-three placing.

The Eisteddfod's celebrating people coming together to keep that

tradition alive, regular people with regular jobs, in regular communities.

It's fantastic.

And now for one of the most important

ceremonies of the week, the Crowning of the Bard.

But the identity of the winner is shrouded in secrecy.

Only three people know who has won the crown this afternoon -

the Eisteddfod organiser, two of the Gorsedd officials,

and of course the winner himself or herself, if there is one.

As the winner of last year's crown,

I'm supposed to congratulate them on stage with a short poem.

But first I need to know who they are.

I need to find the Genod Gwyrfai,

the Gorsedd's official keeper of the records.

'Penry takes me into the inner sanctum

'before letting me in on the secret.

'There's no chance of getting a camera in there.'

I've just been tipped off by one of the senior Gorsedd officials

as to the outcome of this afternoon's ceremony.

I am now the fifth person in the know but I've been sworn to secrecy

so I'm not allowed to tell you.

'After a couple of hours penning some suitable verses,

'it's time for me to get changed into my bardic regalia.

'Because I've won one of the Eisteddfod's main competitions,

'I'm a member of the white order.

We're making our way now to the rear of the pavilion

prior to making our big entrance.

The crown is usually presented to the poet who writes

the best poem in free verse.

This year the theme is "Tyfu", or growth.

As well as its ceremonial role,

the Gorsedd also functions as a kind of Welsh honour system.

All the people around me here

have made some kind of contribution to Welsh public life.

Be that as writers, as musicians, as politicians,

actors or even sports players.

So any minute now the trumpets will sound, the organ will play

and we go over the top.

It's all exciting.

TRUMPET PLAYS

ORGAN PLAYS

Somewhere amongst the 2,000 strong audience in the pavilion

is a poet who's about to win a crown.

The archdruid announces that there's a winner

and calls on the winning poet to make himself known.

APPLAUSE

And there he is.

There's a real buzz in the pavilion because 24-year-old Guto Dafydd

is one of the youngest ever to win the crown.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

The pageantry of the Gorsedd continues as the archdruid

sheaths a sword above the poet's head,

a symbolic call for peace, or "Heddwch" in Welsh.

Y gwir yn erbyn y byd, a oes heddwch?

Calon wrth galon, a oes heddwch?

one of the major industries of this town in the past.

APPLAUSE

And now it's my turn, with my tribute to the new Prifardd,

or champion poet.

APPLAUSE

'20 years ago I was watching the ceremony on TV, and the colours,'

the organ music, all the splendour of it,

it went right to my heart, I loved it.

The other kids in school,

maybe they dreamed of winning the FA Cup at Wembley -

Poetry in Wales doesn't live in a book.

It lives on the stage in front of the microphone.

Poetry is rock'n'roll in Wales.

One of the youngest poets for a very long time,

which makes your feat here today all the more praiseworthy.

Guto, llongyfarchiadau. Diolch yn fawr.

I just had a quick look at Guto's poems

and I have to say I'm very impressed.

The poems all sing, as we say in Welsh, that's to say the lines are

all evenly weighted and euphonious. To give you an example at random -

"A lladd lloi tenau mewn tyddynnod llwm."

Slaughtering scraggy calves on bleak smallholdings.

Some lovely alliteration there.

But the Wales he depicts in his poems

is very much a contemporary one.

It's a Wales of supermarkets and bypasses and Twitter feeds

and I think some readers will find these poems challenging.

Guto warns us not to, as he puts it,

"Roi trefn ar glipiau papur ein gwareiddiad brau".

Not to arrange the paperclips on our fragile way of life,

that we shouldn't take the future of Welsh-language culture for granted.

Excellent.

Alongside the more traditional events,

the Eisteddfod is constantly adding new competitions

to freshen up the mix.

One of the most popular ones sees soloists competing to give

the best rendition of the song of their choice from a musical.

I've been given permission to tag along with the judges

of this year's competition.

Do any of today's competitors have the potential to

go on to the West End? It's a great breeding ground, the Eisteddfod. Yes.

A great springboard for these young people to go on

and hopefully create and carve out careers for themselves.

And personally for me, I've been here in the National

since I was six, and definitely feel that all the experience

I've had has helped me towards getting to my final goal,

definitely.

Out of the 28 singers who competed in the under 19 category,

three have reached the final.

Only the Welsh language is allowed on the Eisteddfod main stage

so all these West End hits have been translated into Welsh.

# Yfed gwnaf dy gwpan chwerw

# Hoelia fi i'th groes bren arw... #

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

The first prize is a ?1,000 scholarship

which the winner can use to further their career,

spending it on singing lessons, masterclasses, whatever it takes.

# Di

# Aeth a hud y byd... #

I think the two judges have just heard their winner.

# Aeth a myd i gyd... #

But to be honest, I don't think I'm cut out to be a judge in musicals.

I wouldn't know my Cats from my Phantom.

But judging from the audience's reaction, this competition has

certainly established itself as a firm favourite.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Wow. Yeah, wow.

# Ond cariad pur sydd fel y dur

# Yn para tra bo dau... #

Another new edition on this year's Eisteddfod field is the Ty Gwerin,

the folk house.

This yurt is home to folk music and dancing.

21-year-old Gwilym Bowen Rhys is an exciting new talent

on the folk scene here in Wales.

He first came to prominence in a rock band

but now he's passionate about traditional Welsh songs

and giving them a contemporary twist.

# Wel, dyma'r hen dy rwy'n ei garu

# Hen dy can a phennill yng Nghymru,

# A'r gwellt iddo'n do

# A'r drws heb r'un clo

# A'r mur ddim rhy falch i'w wyngalchu. #

Beautiful. Thank you. It's not a song I'm familiar with.

I'm presuming that the melody would be quite traditional

but what you've done with the accompaniment

has been more creative?

Yes, lots of people do this with folk songs.

You keep true to the old melody... Yeah.

..but the accompaniments can be anything you want.

These old songs, I heard somebody describe it, it was like evolution.

Only the strongest and the best survive, you know?

If it's not very strong, you forget it, you know, if it's memorable,

the words to some of these old songs are just poetry put to music.

When he's not singing,

Gwilym can be found in the seaside town of Criccieth

helping to maintain another Welsh tradition.

He's just started an apprenticeship as a clog maker.

And his training is being funded by none other than Prince Charles,

who stepped in after learning that Wales' last full-time clog maker

was about to retire.

Prince Charles put finance and support

forward to pay for Gwilym to be trained here for a year.

I sort of look at myself as like a line, the end of the line.

I don't want it to stop at me.

I've got a moral obligation to make sure it gets

passed on, which is what I'm hopefully doing with Gwilym.

There's no-one really at all else in the trade doing any training, and

you've got a really simple equation. No clogs, no clog dancing.

It just comes down to culture.

What makes this bit of land different from that bit of land

is the culture and people and history, you know? Yeah.

And it's important, to me, anyway, to keep that alive,

or everywhere will seem the same, which will be quite boring, I think.

The Eisteddfod tradition is unique to Wales

as is the bardic pageantry of the Gorsedd ceremonies,

initiated over 200 years ago in London

by the stonemason Iolo Morganwg.

But the two weren't brought together until 1819

when the Eisteddfod was held in the nearby town of Caernarfon

and at the local museum is the actual chair that Iolo Morganwg

used to unite the Gorsedd and the Eisteddfod.

This, I think, is it. Yes, the 1819 Eisteddfod chair.

Iolo had a real affinity with this particular chair.

It's said that every time he visited Caernarfon, he liked to sleep in it

because, being asthmatic, he preferred to sleep upright,

and this was his chair of choice.

The chair's location was something of a mystery

until Welsh furniture historian Richard Bebb

chanced upon it six years ago.

Despite its importance within Eisteddfodic tradition,

this chair was actually lost for quite a while, wasn't it?

Yes, we knew there was a chair given in 1819

because it's mentioned in the Eisteddfod proceedings as being...

It was made of indigenous oak in a pure gothic style

and it was put on display on a table for people who desire

sort of winning it to enter. Right.

And then it's mentioned going to Llangynnwr Vicarage,

where it was before 1850, but from that period,

it's just been lost to lots of scholars of the period.

But recently found. Very recently, yes.

The Gorsedd ceremony at the 1819 Eisteddfod

was quite a modest affair.

Iolo Morganwg created a Gorsedd circle

with a handful of pebbles from his pockets.

Then he went on to admit poets as druids, giving them

white, blue or green ribbons according to their rank.

Iolo Morganwg was certainly a colourful character

with a colourful if not controversial past,

but despite his somewhat creative approach to history,

the Gorsedd tradition that he initiated in London

and then integrated with the Eisteddfod here in Caernarfon,

using this very chair,

still continues to this day nearly 200 years later.

As the week draws to its close at this year's Eisteddfod,

one chair stands alone in the spotlight,

and the way you win a chair has hardly changed

since the days of Iolo Morganwg.

So what exactly is required?

Let me explain through the medium of fish and chips.

A chair is awarded for a poem written exclusively in strict metre.

Each line of the poem must be written

according to the rules of cynghanedd,

and broadly speaking there are three different kinds.

The first kind involves internal rhyme.

As you can see, "ips" there,

rhymes with "ips" in the penultimate syllable there.

Ips, chips.

OK?

The second kind of cynghanedd involves alliteration.

T-N-F, "sh".

T-N-F.

"Tuna fish is not in fashion." That's alliteration.

We've had rhyme, we've had alliteration.

The third kind of cynghanedd is a combi-cynghanedd.

It's a fish-and-chip cynghanedd - it involves both internal rhyme

and alliteration.

"No-one trips on fish and chips by choice."

So again you've got the rhyme "ips" and "ips"

but we also have an element of alliteration.

"Ch" and "ch". "Ips" and "ips", "ch" and "ch".

"No-one trips on fish and chips by choice."

Simple.

It's time for me to don my robes once again

as the Gorsedd of the bards prepares for its penultimate ceremony

of the week.

Within this stone circle, new members are admitted into its ranks

and today's a special occasion for our family because my wife's cousin

Haf Thomas is being honoured by the Gorsedd for her work with charities.

I'w adnabod yng Ngorsedd fel Haf o'r Llan.

CHEERING

Y gwir yn erbyn y byd. A oes heddwch?

ALL: Heddwch.

Once again, the Eisteddfod pavilion is packed

for the chairing of the bard.

Sefyll, os gwelwch yn dda.

And in front of 300 members of the Gorsedd of the Bards,

the winning poet stands on his feet.

CHEERING

And as the warmth of their reaction suggests,

he's a familiar face to his crowd.

Ceri Wyn Jones won the crown five years ago

and this is the second time that he's won the chair.

And so in accordance with one of our oldest traditions,

this year's champion poet is chaired.

APPLAUSE

The glory of the National Eisteddfod is its incredible variety,

the fact that it can be so many different things

to so many different people,

a tremendous tapestry of tradition and innovation.

Because tradition must embrace innovation if it is to survive.

It must also appeal to the younger generation

because they're the ones, of course,

who will carry it forward into the future.

Guto, llongyfarchiadau. Diolch yn fawr.

And for me, coming to Eisteddfod each year

and plugging into that incredible variety

is like recharging your cultural batteries -

it energises you for the year ahead

until the next Eisteddfod comes around.

Hello, Edinburgh!

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