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Who owns the copyright on a memorised poem? They can stop you reproducing a poem in print or on the web but can you stop someone quoting it? In most cases, poetry is meant to be heard and so its natural medium is un-copyrightable. Or does it come under public perormance?

Read this poem out aloud (in a North Wales accent if you can) and you will hear why poetry is made to be heard. There is this interview with Robert Graves as well in which he tells the actual incident which sparked the poem. My Father loves this poem. He actually typed it out and kept it with him though when he read it out he didn't use the Welsh accent which it demands. I used to visit a friend who lived in the village of Trefor which is on the North Wales Coast, West of Caenarfon. We used to walk along the coast to reach the only pub in the village which seemd more like a house party which just never ended (More of which later) but walking through the narrow streets in the dark with washing billowing in the sea-breezes and dogs barking in dialect, all I could think of was Llareggub or Welsh Incident. Nobody made any allowances for me being English and continued to speak Welsh continuously. I began to understand bits and peices after a while and went back home with a slight North Wales accent (The best Welsh Accent to have). The English habit of makling out the Welsh as a bit of a joke is simply the anti-provincial feeling that pervades this Country and indeed the world. The Meek should now be the locals. We need a bit of 'distributed thinking' on World affairs. Why does everything have to be Global? After 9/11 I have seen signs of this idea amongst certain global companies who are starting to tailor their images to local needs. Let us hope that the lead given in this article is extended. Where can I buy my "No Logo" T-Shirt? A step back in the short term means a massive leap forward over time. Make the world a better place by slowing down. Corporate Zen anyone? Oh no! Corporate Zen is a web-solutions company. I won't do them a favour by linking to them. Find them yourself if you really want to see them.

My Daughter is happily playing with the pebbles which her Grandfather polished in his rinky-dinky tumbling machine. He did them a few weeks ago and sent a picture of them to her which she has stuck right by the side of her bed so that she can see them when she wakes up. Now she has the stones themselves and has done almost nothing at home other than transfer them from container to container or place them round her pictures. I was going top suggest that she try and match each stone to its picture on her wall but she seems very happy with the look and feel (and sound) of them as they are. Simple pleasures. Actually, I remember that I was quite happy with bits of rock. I suppose I still am. My Sister went to Italy and my present was a large lump of Lava from the side of Vesuvius. I was happy enough with that. I wrote 'mump of rock' there and I was going to leave it like that. A 'mump' is a great describing word. When you have mumps that does mean you should be able to point to a single 'mump'. There is a picture of Nancy Blackett in 'Winter Holiday'. She has mumps and is standing in her bedroom window signalling to the Swallows, Ds and the Other Amazon (Peggy) with semaphore flags. There is a circle over Nancy's face to cover up her mumps (It would not be fair to show her face). How did I get on to this from polished pebbles. If my Daughter is half as resourceful as any of the children in Winter Holiday I will be very happy. I may see if she will let me scan the photo of her pebbles in so you can see what they look like. (I know that you will all look forward to a picture of some real rocks rather than reading the rocks in my head.)

I have to start work soon. It is so sad. I used to look forward to my work. Now I have to work up enthusiasm before anything. I like to think I am as conscientious as ever. Come to think of, my family does to have to have the same trappings as seems absolutely necessary to live a normal civilized, Western life and yet we are happy. We don't go without much and yet we must spend a lot less than is normal for someone in my profession. If only we all did this. Where did all that come from? See you later when I may continue about House parties. The Casablanca Club to whet your appetite.