It started with a kiss..........

I have been tagged by Valleys Mam to provide you with my first political memories.

Yer tiz.........................................and not a mythical dragon to be seen.

My parents, having mildly supported the Conservative party, before, during and after WW11, were never particularly 'politically' minded after the War. They were too busy providing for us as a family.

My first political memory was of me standing on our front wall, being held by my mother. A group of men and women were coming along our street speaking to the neighbours and shaking hands.

A man approached, and with a big smile, exclaimed "what a handsome chap", obviously referring to me.

Without further ado, he grabbed me and planted an unsolicited kiss on my cheek. My mother recoiled in horror at this mans antics. I started crying, and my father, unceremoniously, told him to "bugger off". He did, with no delay and muttered apology.

That man was George Thomas, later Lord Tonypandy and Speaker of the House of Commons.

A couple of years later as a young urchin, I had further political fun with my mates.

At Election time we would badger the 'committee rooms' of the Labour and Conservative parties in the area to see if we could get any posters and leaflets. We smiled angelically and promised to deliver them in order to help their cause.

They were only too glad of the help. Unbeknown to them, they were playing into our hands.

This was just the start of the fun.

We armed ourselves with jam jars of industrial strength flour and water paste and crept around the area looking for houses that were displaying electoral posters.

A few deft strokes of a 'gluey' hand and Labour supporting houses were transformed into Conservative supporters and vice versa.

Of course, we ran the risk of the occasional 'thick ear' but young legs served us well.

On the way home, we always tried to go by way of the 'committee rooms' and with concerted effort and much glue, we covered their posters with the opposing party's. Good planning ensured that we were never caught.

On Election day more fun was to be had by following the candidates around the area and regaling them with a chorus of:

Vote, vote, vote for (insert as required)
Kick old (the opponent) out of the door
If I had a penny pie
I would slap it in his eye
And he wouldn't come round for voting anymore.

For all his sins, as a Labour man, nevertheless, George Thomas was a good constituency representative and, as my mother told him in later years, "if it were a vote for the man, Mr. Thomas, you may have had a vote from me. Unfortunately, you belong to the wrong Party".

Further political memories were of stories of my grandfather's stance, during the General Strike of 1926 wherein he showed his loyalty to the Great Western Railway, who had employed him from 14 years of age. He refused to join the strike and on more than one occasion fought his way into work. His stance was that they had given him the opportunity to work when he was penniless and had nothing but himself to offer. They gave him the opportunity to prove himself, and, as he said, he owed all that he had to them. A man of great principle, courage and honour.

As children we were always reminded of our Britishness. It was this Britishness that had saved our country from the Nazi threat. My father, having been in the rearguard at Dunkirk and promoted for his efforts, always insisted that we stood to attention for the British National Anthem and ensured that we were reminded of the traitorous activities of the Welsh Nationalists in their mission to distance themselves from their Britishness despite enjoying the fruits of British efforts. Their founder, Saunders Lewis, was singled out for much distaste, due mainly to his campaign to prevent English children, from the industrial heartlands of England, being evacuated to the more remote areas of Wales, on the grounds that they would "pollute" the 'culture' and language.

Presumably he preferred them to be killed by the Luftwaffe bombs rather than his so-called 'culture' suffer this "pollution" by innocent children. Plaid, of course, have selectively short memories of this and have sought to airbrush this particular incident from their history.

In the early sixties I was a student of existentialism, with long hair and a style of dress hitherto unseen in Wales. An original proponent of the Peace and Love generation. Cool man. I was an enthusiastic reader of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg and Freidrich Nietzsche, and having read the I Ching and The Tibetan book of the Dead I was clearly destined to achieve great things as a forward looking and philosophical thinker.

Around that time the Committee of 100 was formed as a more militant side of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. I embraced the cause with enthusiasm.

I attended the mass demonstration of 'civil disobedience' outside Cardiff Castle in the company of Bertrand Russell and numerous other eminent demonstrators, and experienced for the first time the consequences of political dissent.

At the given signal, we all sat down in the middle of the road, much to the consternation of the Police and onlookers. Cardiff had never seen such antics before.

The Police initially asked us, "just what do you think you lot are doing"?

"Demonstrating against Atom Bombs" was the chorused reply.

"You can't do that here, now move along".

Naturally, we refused in a pacifist and non-violent manner.

The Police, on the other hand, unversed in the niceties of non-violent demonstration had, by now, had enough, and with little ceremony, 'arm and legged' us to the pavements, from where we naturally returned to the roadway and resumed our sedentary demonstration.

A number of us, of a more recognisable appearance, were singled out for more robust removal methods but, nevertheless, maintained our pacifist attitude. At least until some over-enthusiastic Officers decided that a bit of literal arm twisting was required. A few shins were kicked and we made our escape as best we could. I had failed the test of pacifism.

A few years later I had a couple of life changing experiences, which turned my life around and have made me the person that I am today, details of which must, for the time being, come under the heading of 'too much information'.

Now in retirement, I merely note, with little surprise, the dishonesty, self service and cavalier disregard for probity of our current crop of politicians. As my Grandma used to say, "they've got more faces than the Town Hall clock".

This has been my incentive to promote a legislative requirement to vote, with the provision of an option for the "None Of These Turkeys" or "None Of The Above" Party alongside the other candidates.

This is my truth, tell me yours.

Just for fun, if they read my humble blog, I'd like to tag Paul Flynn, Ceredig and Aled Edwards.

Your positively patriotic yet plucked from the past pal.

johnny.