As Shirley Bassey celebrates her 89th birthday today, Roger Lewis reflects on the remarkable talent and resilience that has long defined Wales. From the valleys to the global stage, Bassey embodies the spirit of her homeland—bold, vibrant, and unforgettable. Her career, spanning decades, mirrors the pride and cultural richness of Wales itself, a story that Lewis eloquently captures in his writing.
Old school friends of mine, from Bassaleg Comprehensive, who still live in Monmouthshire or Gwent – or whatever the latest designation might be; anyway, English- speaking South Wales – refer to themselves, when communicating with me, as being ‘behind the Wall’ – as if what the Principality is most like is the former German Democratic Republic.
This became most apparent during the lockdown shenanigans, when the local rules were the most draconian in the UK.
For 26 months, the Welsh had to wear masks, their contact details were collected if more than six people gathered, and wedding and funeral congregations had to take lateral-flow tests – not that wedding receptions or funeral wakes were permitted.
In Caerphilly, if visiting anyone, you had to remain in the garden and you couldn’t use their lavatory or kitchen, on pain of a fine. Travel was banned – we all felt Mark Drakeford, the First Minister, would have erected pillboxes and machine-gun nests on the Severn Bridge, had this been encouraged.
What annoyed and amused me in equal measure was that the coronavirus was called the coronafeirws, as if this made it more special.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the Welsh language, even if for my generation it has narrow, chapel associations. Mochyn means pig – but in Wales to call someone a mochyn is more affectionate than calling them a pig. Cwtch is cuddle – but also cosy, secretive, hidden. The place under the stairs where the Hoover is kept is the cwtch.
What I can’t stand, however, is the compulsory imposition of Welsh, as if English is the tongue of a colonial usurper – and people who are pro-Welsh-speaking are often anti-English in their outlook, which is just daft; even racist. Llywelyn ap Gruffudd was routed by Edward I in 1282 – it’s a long time to bear a grudge.
Richard Burton was raised speaking Welsh and spoke Welsh with his family all his life, but it never crossed his mind that English wasn’t the superior culture. From his teens, he exerted himself more than anybody to absorb English literature; become its great interpreter.
But the trouble in Wales today is with all this political effort and passion to get everyone understanding Welsh. My sister runs an after-school cooking club. To secure funding, she has to call it a clwb. Taxis are called tacsis for the benefit of Welsh people who, as Kingsley Amis said, ‘have never seen the letter x before’.
There’s simply no money left to invest in anything else. So Wales is falling apart, getting to be sad and run-down. It is not a good place to feel poorly.
The population is 3.1 million, and with 60 per cent of the adults overweight or obese, a quarter of them are on hospital waiting lists – where they’ll wait 40 per cent longer for treatment than in England.
As the Welsh simply die while awaiting surgery, I wonder if this story points to a clue. A pal of mine, a doctor, went for her interview at the Heath Hospital, Cardiff, or Ysbyty Athrofaol Cymru, to be promoted to consultant.
‘And do you speak the Welsh?’ she was asked.
At this, my pal got up and left the room and immediately obtained a senior post in Lincolnshire. Every single person on her Heath Hospital interview panel was of Asian extraction.
In education, Welsh 15-year-olds have fallen behind, especially in English and maths, which will be why a sign spotted last week in Newport said, ‘Ladies Only. These’s Toilet’s is for Ladies Use Only.’
The median salary is £27,852 – the lowest in Britain, not excluding Scotland. There is an expansion of food banks. Knife crime has doubled in the past decade. GDP is a quarter lower than in England – so the Welsh government is increasing council tax for 470,000 homes, and tripling the council tax for second homes owned by ‘outsiders’, a move that is spiteful. For who else wants to live in remote areas with limited opportunities, such as Anglesey? Welsh youngsters, who want fallen behind, especially in English and maths, which will be why a sign spotted last week in Newport said, ‘Ladies Only. These’s Toilet’s is for Ladies Use Only.’
The median salary is £27,852 – the lowest in Britain, not excluding Scotland. There is an expansion of food banks. Knife crime has doubled in the past decade. GDP is a quarter lower than in England – so the Welsh government is increasing council tax for 470,000 homes, and tripling the council tax for second homes owned by ‘outsiders’, a move that is spiteful. For who else wants to live in remote areas with limited opportunities, such as Anglesey? Welsh youngsters, who want
to be engineers or scientists, must move away to find decent careers and make a living. Many in South Wales commute daily to Bristol. Not everyone is content to be a shop assistant, labourer or in social care, wiping the bottoms of the OAPs who survived Covid. This pattern of migration for 15- to 29-year-olds is increasing.
The default 20mph speed limit is symbolic of the creeping paralysis, with everything centrally planned and state-owned by the Senedd – which must mean Senate and has just celebrated its 25th anniversary.
When I was growing up in Bedwas, as working-class as you please, a frequent thrill was a trip to the New Theatre, Cardiff, to see the Welsh National Opera – Sir Geraint Evans, Sir Bryn Terfel and Dame Margaret Price in full voice, Sir Charles Mackerras in the pit. In today’s Wales, opera is elitist – so is being stamped out.
The WNO was formed after the war by local doctors, teachers and miners, who wanted a world-class performing ensemble. For the 2023-26 period, the Arts Council is making cuts of 35 per cent, from
£6.2 million annually to £4 million. The orchestra and chorus have been told to become part-time, though there is no freelance work available to make up the shortfall. The touring programme is being curtailed, and voluntary redundancies sought. Soprano Elizabeth Atherton calls this ‘the end of Wales’s largest arts organisation and employer as we know it’, with 222 jobs at risk.
The other week, Vaughan Gething, the first minister, lost a confidence vote in the Senedd – he’d accepted a £200,000 donation from someone who’d been criminally convicted of ‘environmental offences’. Nevertheless, Gething ‘absolutely must carry on’, says Keir Starmer.
The future doesn’t look rosy to me. Richard Burton, than whom there was never a prouder Welshman, will probably prefer to remain buried in Switzerland.
And until Wales rediscovers its robustness and ability to laugh at itself, the likes of Anthony Hopkins, Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey and so forth will continue to live elsewhere.
Roger Lewis is author of Erotic Vagrancy: Everything about Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor
