This made me laugh out loud.
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During WW2, my âAuntieâsâ brother went north for some sort of war work open to pacifists. He did fire-watching at night and met a lady from Gwynedd. Love blossomed. Unfortunate, as he had a wife in Swansea and his family (strict Methodists) while approving of pacifism, did not take well to adultery! Baban on the way, divorce and never back south for him!
He and wife went to live, post War, near Caernarfon. If she spoke Welsh, I never heard her. He certainly never learned. His children and herâs (she had a divorce too) went to schools such that John learned Latin in Welsh, as he put it!!
I never asked why Auntieâs elder brother had never learned Welsh. That generation just didnât!! Even in the English speaking south, folk tried to sound English! cf Dylan Thomas!!
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I was just looking up the details of where my great grandfather came from and he was a fire-watcher too!
By the time we get to his childrenâs generation, the Welsh connection is being played down. My Nan (his daughter-in-law) denied all knowledge of any such thing (apart from an eccentric aunt in Pembrokeshire who-we-donât-talk-about). She was the most shocked of all that I wanted to speak Welsh, and I think a little offended that my heart wasnât as firmly in Scotland as hers. [quote=âhenddraig, post:22, topic:8355â]
That generation just didnât!!
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Makes it all a little harder for us to get it back!
But itâs an amazing journey to get there (when I finally doâŚ).
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My very English grandfather who my poor dead Nain had married, was actually proud of a Scottish granny! Yet he kept my dad and his sisters from ever even seeing his Welsh Mam-gu, Tad-cu and any other relations - and I do not think it was his wifeâs doing. She was a bitter, unhappy woman, told to marry him because she was too plain to attract a suitable husband, told to look after him and his children (enthusiasm for task not required!) But my dad was raised unhappy that heâd been kept from his motherâs family, but seeing Welsh as bad, beng Welsh as almost shameful! I take great delight in my personal claim for descent from Cymraes on both sides!
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My Dad was a fire-watcher in London during WW2. Heâd wanted to join the RN, but was rejected because of his imperfect eyesight. Heâd therefore planned to join the Merchant Navy, but before he could do so was involved in an air raid. Details are sketchy and he rarely talked about it, but the upshot was he was âshell-shockedâ (or what weâd call PTSD now probably), and that put paid to any form of active service. He went back up north to live & help out on the farm and eventually resumed working in butchery (which was actually a reserved occupation at the time).
Curiously, so my Mam has told me, he was itching to get back to London during his time back up north, before they got married and moved down south (although not to London).
@henddraig - What a sad existence for her!
I definitely had the sense that the Welsh portion of our lot was considered shameful in some way.
Iâve always wondered if my nana (Scottish) had âenglished upâ, not only to play down the husband from the valleys, but to fit in with her new life as a housekeeper to a very English vicar after she was widowed. She was always quietly proud of her ancestry though, and that was the difference.
@mikeellwood - it took a very long time to get my stepfather to comfortably reveal details about what happened to him in WW2. There must be a whole generation of swallowed stories, and shame absorbed. I never considered how dangerous it might be to be a fire-watcher, but of course it was left to those who were too old or infirm to go and do âproperâ fighting. Sobering thought.
My great grandfather and my grandfather both died within a short space of time, and any stories of their lives and family in Wales stopped there.
Oh Cat! Your poor Granddad! My Mamâs dad was a Royal Marine. He fought at Gallipoli in WW1 and had retired by 1939. As soon as war was declared, he rushed to rejoin! He was told, âYou did your bit! You were a Marine all your working life, including the Great War. Go and look after yourself.â or words to that effect. Furious, muttering about being not wanted, he refused to join the Civil Defence or ARP. However, totally unofficially, he joined fire watchers in all the most dangerous locations. As far as I can make out, they kind of slid him on to their lists so they knew where he was, but he never wore an arm band! Mmm⌠maybe I get some of my pig-headedness from him?
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Good for you - some of my best decisions ever have been down to stubbornness! Iâm going to revel in my stubbornness well into old-ladyhood (which is closer than it was!).
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I got there already (75), well, not sure about the âladyâ part!
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I say âhelloâ but in the Welsh way with the short âoâ. If someone is a Welsh speaker they will usually respond then in Welsh. Or I just ask them in Welsh if they speak Welsh!
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I havenât mastered anything other than my usual hello with a West Country burr. I think my Welsh accent is probably ok, but my English accent applies itself to all words it thinks it owns! Iâm a bit worried that if I adopted the Welsh hylo, I might go overboard and people might think Iâm taking the mickey!
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Where I live there are a lot of Mexican immigrants and I run into that when I try to speak Spanish. Frequently they ARE uneducated (most of them are farm workers), but itâs still a matter of pride for them to use what English they have.
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Sorry that Iâm catching up with old posts -
Anyway, I admit to being guilty of this with English place names especially with an a in them. For some reason I struggle to call Bath âBarthâ although I do try. Come to think of it, after nearly 60 years, I still havenât got(ten) into the habit of pronouncing my home town of Newcastle as it should be: âNyuCASSelâ
Edit: Also the village of Wall, pronounced âWalâ the Welsh way.
At least both of those are closer to their correct pronounciations than Poo-el-ee is to Pwllheli! 
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While I understand the desire to pronounce place names in the local fashion, there seems to be an odd particularity.
For instance, it seems to be a matter of pride that people referring to Newcastle upon Tyne (where I have lived) to put a short âaâ in âcastleâ.
On the other hand, I have also lived near Chatham in Kent. The locals pronounce it Chaâam, with a huge glottal stop. I have never heard people corrected for pronouncing it âChathamâ. (Similarly Gillingham in Kent is pronounce Jillinâum - not to be confused with Gill-ing-ham in the West of England, Sittingbourne as Sihâinâbourne and Sheppey as Sheâey by the the locals.)
Thatâs without going to West Kent where Teston is correctly pronounced âTeesonâ and Wrotham as âRoothamâ, Loose as âLewsâ, Crouch as âCroochâ and Malling as âMawlingâ. In those places you will be corrected for mis-pronouncing it. (Or laughed at from behind a finely gloved hand - they are quite posh.)
So I do have sympathy with someone who cannot pronounce their villageâs name after 40 years.
All I can say is that it is lucky that English doesnât have mutations, or it would be difficult to learn (sic.).
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