Insufficiently Welsh

I SAW WONDERS. I GOBBLED UP THE SCENERY. I ATE WELL. SLEPT WELL AND I LEARNT A LOT: FROM THE AMBITIONS OF EDWARD I TO THE APPETITES OF THE DUNG BEETLE. WHAT A COUNTRY. WHAT VARIETY. WHAT PEOPLE.

GRIFF RHYS JONES IS SEARCHING FOR THAT WELSH PART OF HIMSELF THAT HE HAS FELT EVER SINCE BEING FORCED TO SING IN THE CHOIR IN CHURCH AND PACK DOWN FOR THE SCHOOL FIRST XV. ALL IN SUBURBAN ESSEX.

“Well, er, the clue is in the name….” The man was gazing steadily at Griffith Rhys Jones, son of Elwyn and Gwynneth, scion of Megan and leuan and Evan, spawn of Betws-y-Coed, Penmachno and the Rhondda, dark of hair, thick-thighed and round-faced. Griffith Rhys Jones. I was born in Cardiff. My mother was from Ferndale in the Rhondda, my father from Penylan. Every single one of my relatives… were Welsh. I think I am Welsh.

But am I insufficiently Welsh? It’s time to find out. That is what this book is all about. lam going out on the road to search for my Celtic roots and explore “the land of my aunties”. Language, the landscape, rugby, dogs, legends, botany, wildlife, furniture and a few more bits on the side: I looked into them all and here are the results.