Happy St David's Day, dear reader!
Who better to celebrate it with than not one, but two, of Wales' greatest vocal sons, Bryn Terfel and the ever-lovely Tom Jones, reminiscing about their (our) shared homeland?
Aw, there's lovely, innit?
Happy Saint David's Day, dear reader!
It's been a beautiful day for the celebration of all things Welsh - and floral - and I have spent it fruitfully in the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers. I've dug out and repotted a big Thalictrum and two hardy geraniums, pruned back a few more ferns, and redone the window box that had been ripped out and scattered everywhere by a bastard fox, pottering and tidying as I went along. Now I'm aching - but happy.
Speaking of things to cheer one's spirits - how about a bit [and I know which bit I'd have liked when he still looked like that!] of Sir Tom Jones, Tom Jones? Os gwelwch yn dda!
Fab-las!
Speaking of all things Welsh - "What's occurring?"
Well lush.
Happy St David's Day, dear reader!
On this day of all things Welsh, how fortuitous it is that one of our fave bands - whose repertoire often featured on our "getting-ready-to-go-out" playlist while we were in Spain - has not one, but two members who were born in the Principality (Ian "H" Watkins and Lisa Scott-Lee).
That gives me a perfect excuse to lead the party mood for the weekend [OK, I know I've been off all week, but it's still worth celebrating] - with this!
Thank Disco Steps It's Friday!
Happy Saint David's Day to all you fellow Welshies (and honorary Welsh, and others)!
Let's have a little sing-song (as is apparently our wont), shall we? - in the company of the divine "Dame Katherine Jenkins of Neath" herself...
Songs:
Aw. There's lovely!
[FOOTNOTE: Yes, this is a recycled posting - but hey, why not?]
It's Saint David's Day again, cariads!
Traditionally, this is the day when we (former) inhabitants take pride in the Principality of Wales that gave us male voice choirs, Welsh cakes, Dame Shirley Bassey, Sir Tom Jones, W. H. Davies, Christian Bale, Ivor Novello, Terry Jones, leeks, Taron Egerton, Roald Dahl, Sir Richard Burton, Mary Quant, Dame Siân Phillips, Dorothy Squires, Charlotte Church, Julian Cope, Ioan Gruffudd, Michael Ball, Ray Milland, Ruth Jones, Desmond Llewelyn, John Cale, Dylan Thomas, Rhys Ifans, Catherine Zeta Jones, Manic Street Preachers, cawl, Sir Bryn Terfel, David Lloyd George, Tessie O'Shea, Rugby Union, Gethin Jones, daffodils, Laura Ashley, Steve Strange, Russell T Davies, Jonathan Pryce, Timothy Dalton, Michael Sheen, Ruth Madoc, Dame Tanni Grey-Thompson, Sir Anthony Hopkins, Tommy Cooper, Molly Parkin, Stanley Baker, Roger Rees, Sir Harry Secombe, Katherine Jenkins, Bonnie Tyler...
...and Cerys Matthews (of course)!
What did I do wrong?
Oh you nearly drove me cuckoo
Am I really all that bad?
You're worse than Hannibal Lecter, Charlie Manson, Freddie Krueger
Why are we still together?
Oh I can't leave until you're dead
You mean till death do us part?
I mean like cyanide, strangulation or an axe to your head
It was lucky for us I turned the radio on
They say that music soothes the savage beast
There was something in that voice that stopped us seeing red
The two of us would surely have ended up dead
You stopped us from killing each other
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
You'll never know but you saved our lives
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
I could never throw my knickers at you
And I don't come from Wales
So haven't solved our problems
You mean we hate each other's guts
I still wanna poison your pizza
And I still wanna cut off your nuts
I phoned the marriage guidance
I tied the phone line round your neck
I'm sick of all this hatred
Well that will be the arsenic making you sick
You were about to drive me over the edge of a cliff
As I tried to jump out I knocked the stereo on
You changed your mind and then slammed on the brakes
It was lucky for us we bought his greatest hits
You stopped us from killing each other
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
You'll never know but you saved our lives
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
I could never throw my knickers at you
And I don't come from Wales
And now the war is over
I've lost the urge to break your neck
I owe my life to What's New Pussycat
Delilah stopped me hating you and wishing you dead
Oh I used to call you Satan
And you were Cruella De'Ville
And now you call me your Delilah
And I am not your Lucifer
And I am just your pussycat
But just a word of warning now
Just in case we ever get tired of his voice
I know the Mafia, Godzilla, King Kong
And I know an atom bomb that's going for a song
You stopped us from killing each other
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
You'll never know but you saved our lives
Tom Jones, Tom Jones
I could never throw my knickers at you
And I don't come from Wales
A - ahem - lovely ballad, indeed.
We have never referred to (Sir) Tom Jones in the singular ever since...
Whoosh! Another weekend gone in a flash, and here we are again. Back to the "World of Dreams".
It is, however, Saint David's Day - the Patron Saint of my homeland Wales, so on this Tacky Music Monday, who else would I choose to provide an OTT "wake-up call" but Llanelli's finest...
...Dotty!!
We adore her!
Have a good week, dear reader.
Eat some Welsh Cakes.
Aw. There's lovely!
Have a good week!
Catatonia - Road Rage:
And in a brilliantly camp move by the BBC, they have posted Cerys's own recipe for Welsh Cakes on their site today...
Cerys's Welsh Cakes
