Tuesday, November 5, 2024

On Being a Writer in Wales: John Osmond

From nation.cymru

John Osmond

If I were to offer one piece of advice to an aspiring young writer it would be simply this: Keep a diary!

I’m about midway through the second volume of a documentary novel about the period between the 1970s and 1990s, trying to explain how the overwhelming defeat in the 1979 referendum turned into the Yes vote that established the National Assembly in 1997, less than twenty years later.

If I had kept a diary during that period my task would be a lot easier.

As it is I’m having to rely a good deal on memory which is notoriously unreliable. For instance, if you were around do you remember what you were doing during March 1984? That’s an especially important moment for my purposes since it was the month that the Miners’ Strike began.

Defeat

In searching for reasons that explain what happened between the two referendums I’m convinced that the Miners’ Strike played a critical part. It was, of course, another defeat.

But in Wales the defeat was experienced very differently to the way it occurred in England and Scotland. But more than that, I believe it shifted attitudes fundamentally.

To begin with there was strong opposition at most of the Welsh pitheads in a show of hands, and with good reason. Striking in the Spring with summer ahead and coal stocks piled high was, to say the least, an inopportune moment.

More fundamentally, a year earlier when all 31 pits across south Wales had struck to defend threatened Lewis Merthyr in the Rhondda, there had been no solidarity from the richer English coalfields which voted against support.

Militant

Yet when the strike was fully underway, the Welsh coalfield proved the most militant, sending pickets in military-style operations across Britain. Moreover, miners in Wales remained solid when elsewhere across Britain they drifted back to work.

And then, in early 1985, when the strike became untenable, it was the Welsh miners who put the survival of their union first, and led an orderly return to work.

In all of this the Welsh miners acted in unison, but at the end found themselves abandoned as mass closures ensued.

It was a bitter lesson. When it comes to the crunch we only have ourselves to rely on.

For me the sentiment was summed up by a miner at Cwm Colliery, near Llantrisant some four miles south of Pontypridd. At the time I was working with HTV’s Wales This Week current affairs programme which followed the fortunes of Cwm during the strike. When it was over one of the miners we featured told us he had started learning Welsh. Asked why he said, ‘The language is all we have left.’

Resonant

His response stayed with me as resonant of the strike’s impact, not only on the mining communities directly engaged, but on Wales as a whole. If I had kept a diary I would surely have recorded this, and my feelings about it. I recall sensing in a somewhat inchoate way that the strike was a momentous episode. But, of course, living in the moment you have no idea of what is to come and how a train of events links the past and present to the future.

Delving into memoirs and archives forty years later, one is left grasping at fragments to support the conviction that the strike was indeed a turning point, the hinge on which history turned in favour of devolution.

Hywel Francis, who chaired the Wales Congress in Support of Mining Communities in 1984-85, certainly thought so and makes the point in his account of the strike, History on our Side. But again his perspective is one of hindsight. Hywel died in 2021 so it is too late to explore his understanding in greater depth. If only I had kept that diary.

I did keep one much later for two short periods. The first was during 2006 in the period leading to the 2007 Assembly election. A small group of us in Plaid Cymru came together to propagate the argument that we should accept the need for cross-party collaboration if Labour’s seemingly perpetual dominance of Welsh politics was to end. If Welsh democracy was to be meaningful the electorate had to be presented with a realistic prospect of an alternative government.

It was, of course, controversial since it meant Plaid being willing to enter a coalition with the Welsh Conservatives, albeit that in those days they were a much more Welsh-aligned breed. And, for a fleeting moment in the wake of the 2007 Assembly election, it did seem that the so-called Rainbow Alliance between Plaid, Conservatives and Liberal Democrats might be possible.

In fact, a first edition of the London Times announced that Plaid’s Ieuan Wyn Jones was to be the new First Minister of Wales. In the event he turned out to be Deputy First Minister to Rhodri Morgan in a coalition with Labour.

                                                                                                                                                            John Osmond

Strategic

The second period when I began keeping a diary was in October 2018. I had just completed the first volume of my novel, Ten Million Stars are Burning, which took my story to 1979 when, totally unexpectedly, Adam Price asked me to become his Special Adviser following his election as leader of Plaid Cymru. I became immersed in a project Adam had to hand.

He convinced me that, given a fair wind and some strategic vision there was a chance that Plaid could lead a government following the 2021 Senedd election. This seemed important to inject a new energy into Welsh democracy, and was enough to entice me away from my novel.

The diary covers the six-month period of what Adam Price called our first hundred days. As they reached their end, it looked for a dizzying moment as if we were indeed on course to achieve our objective of leading a minority government. Adam’s leadership was established, and the party was doing well in the opinion polls, well enough it seemed to reach our goal.

Then the diary stops. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see that subconsciously I realised that if it continued, I would be recording something completely different to the project we had started upon so optimistically six months earlier. Most immediately was the fall-out from Brexit, a maelstrom and calamity that sucked the lifeblood from forward planning.

Scarcely had that been settled, at least for the time being by the December 2019 ‘Get Brexit Done’ election, when we were overtaken by the Covid 19 pandemic. This was a further calamitous event, overwhelming in its impact. The combined effect was to throw the idea of a Plaid-led minority government completely off course. Somehow, we had to find an alternative, more realisable objective. Following the year-long production of our manifesto for the May 2021 Senedd election, this became the Co-operation Agreement.

This diary is a core component of my new book The Politics of Co-Opposition: The Inside Story of the 2021-24 Co-Operation Agreement Between Plaid Cymru and Welsh Labour.

Beguiling

In its own way the Agreement turned out be as a beguiling project as a Plaid-led Government might have been. Certainly, it introduced a completely new form of political engagement in the British Isles, in which opposing politicians co-operate on mutually agreed policies while maintaining their positions as government and opposition. Termed by academics ‘Contract Parliamentarianism’, it drew on precedents in Sweden, New Zealand and Malaysia.

It resulted in significant measures being introduced across 46 policy areas. These included free school meals for all primary school pupils, expanding free childcare to all two-year-olds, action on the second homes crisis blighting rural Wales, and reforming the Senedd.

The latter involved an increase in its Members from 60 to 96 and a fully proportional electoral system which will be used in the 2026 Senedd election. I’m not sure how much of this might have been achieved by a Plaid minority government, with an angry Labour Opposition resisting every move. Certainly, Senedd reform – which required a two-thirds majority – would have been off limits.

Looking back the episode fully justifies that brief period following October 2018 when I kept a diary, which gives an insight into the circumstances which persuaded Plaid’s leadership that they needed a new trajectory to take Wales forward. It’s also confirmation, to me at least, that I should have kept a diary for much longer, in fact for the whole of my working life.

The Politics of Opposition is published by the Welsh Academic Press.

It is being launched at a Wales Governance Centre event at the Glamorgan Building, Cardiff University, Cathays Park, Cardiff, at 6pm for 6.30pm on Wednesday 6 November 2024, in which John Osmond will be in conversation with Professor Richard Wyn Jones, Director of the Wales Governance Centre. Free tickets to attend the event are available here.

https://nation.cymru/culture/on-being-a-writer-in-wales-john-osmond/ 

Friday, November 1, 2024

Dear diary … my heart hurts at how time passes

From varsity.co.uk

Bex Goodchild rereads her teenage diary and laments on time lost, and memories saved 

Sometimes, at the most inconvenient of times, I rediscover my old diary and spend hours flicking through the pages. If I told you that I started it in year 9 and finished it after my A-Levels, you’d probably be pretty impressed with my level of commitment. What I’d most definitely leave out of that conversation is how wildly inconsistent those diary entries were. With the majority of pages beginning with some variation on “So, It’s been a while”, my life between the ages of fourteen and eighteen fits into one singular notebook. Give me some credit, though – I tried! Did you even keep a diary? Yeah, thought so. Let’s keep this a judgment-free zone.

From crushes to friendships to a lovely to-scale drawing of my retainer, it’s not the most thrilling of reads. I find myself fighting the urge to curl up into a ball and grit my teeth as I read a particularly cringe-worthy extract. If you think I’m being dramatic, try reading this genuine defence of one of my Year 9 crushes: “he doesn’t make racist or offensive jokes and is quite decent I think”. The bar was so low. So why, if I have such an extreme reaction to my diary’s content, do I read it more often than my lecture notes?

Typically a diary is a ‘for my eyes only’ situation, but I distinctly remember writing my diary for others to eventually read. Perhaps I didn’t trust the notebook’s flimsy lock, or maybe it was a plea for attention or possibly I had a premonition that I would one day be sharing it with Varsity … regardless, there is a distinctive lack of deep dark secrets (not that I had any), a multitude of compliments to various friends and family and a sprinkling of self-depreciation.

                                              I guess I’m a bit obsessed with my past. Does that make me a narcissist?                                                                                 Laura Forwood for Varsity

Would I have been embarrassed if my dairy had been shared around the school? Most definitely. Would I have secretly hoped such an event would place me right in the centre of a real-life teen rom-com? Duh! At the time, subconsciously writing for an audience meant making a cooler, more interesting version of my life. Reading it in 2024, all attempts at ‘cooler’ and ‘more interesting’ are exactly what makes my toes curl. While I can’t escape how absolutely mortifying it is, my daily musings are undeniably hilarious to look back on.

Take my irrational, and completely absurd, fear of height-involved games and icebreakers: “We had to line up in height order (worst thing ever) so it was really awkward. I was not with my friends as they are all average height”. Though I’m proud to say both my height and confidence have grown, I still take myself by surprise: “So I had school again. This morning I actually got up on time!”. I will always be a sleepy girl.

What I’ve left out of these quotes is how horrendous my spelling was at the ripe age of fourteen. Some of my favourites include my “chrush” who “smieles” at me and my “orphodontist opiontment” where I “reilised” I needed braces. I like to think my spelling has somewhat improved, though autocorrect has lent a hand.

I think the main reason I find myself reaching for the diary is nostalgia. There is something so fascinating about reconnecting with a different version of myself. I guess I’m a bit obsessed with my past. Does that make me a narcissist? Potentially, though I’d prefer to brand myself as a memory hoarder. I’m not particularly precious about objects but I have an enormous collection of pictures, videos and diary-esque writings – you should see my Snapchat memories. Change, while constant and necessary, will always be bittersweet. Once a moment is over, we no longer own it. It’s the classic ‘sad that it’s over, happy that it happened’ spiel. I’m sure everyone has experienced those moments of introspection: standing with a group of friends, singing your heart out at a concert, sitting alone watching the stars. It’s your own movie moment where you remember this is happening right now and soon it won’t be. It’s not sad, really – I find it quite peaceful. One of my last diary entries (written in the middle of the night after finishing the series 2125 – if you know, you know) sums this up:

“I am truly beginning to feel what bittersweet is. That moment where something ends. You are glad it has happened but sad you are leaving it behind. The moments where you reflect on the past while looking to the future and being within the present. Bittersweet is beautiful and I crave it and hate it. It is heartbreaking but comforting. It hurts and you smile. It is very human and I like it. My heart hurts to think about how time is passing. The moments that feel like they will last forever will move on. It is running away from us and becomes only a memory before we even realise. Some we hold on to and treasure and some are lost but I think they must all stay within us somewhere.”

Clearly, a midnight poet in the making. The early morning hours always reveal the pretentious parts of my personality. You just know I spelt ‘smile’ and ‘realise’ wrong too …

https://www.varsity.co.uk/lifestyle/28154