Tears ......

These aren’t my tears, but they could so easily be. I tell myself that it’s only a game, but it’s so much more. We were so, so close; we only needed to hang on to our oh-so-narrow lead for 180 seconds. Surely we could do it ...... But it was not to be. Our luck (and discipline) ran out. 

It’s hard to explain what rugby means to the Welsh. It’s more religion than sport, a sense of nationhood and belonging. We’re passionate. And so it hurts, it really hurts. Of course it’s not quite over; next Friday, we’ll all be screaming out for Scotland’s victory. 

Today’s image comes from an underpass in the prosaically named Llandudno Junction - the small town from where the railway spur to ‘Queen of the Welsh Resorts’ leaves the mainline. The beautiful graffiti or street art has been in situ for at least 10 years, transforming a dark and derelict space.  Yet for me it is a new and exciting discovery. The work, is that of a local artist Dime One,  and is a rich expression of local culture and history - obviously with a contemporary twist. 

Considering its decade of existence, the anti-graffiti coating is working well, but there are clear signs of newer artists adding their tags; it’s a strange paradoxical world where establishment and anti-establishment seem to mingle. 

I fell in love with street art in South America. I love it’s vibrancy and passion, and I’m so thrilled to find some good examples on my doorstep. I suspect these images may become regular features here! 


My tears are like the quiet drift 
Of petals from some magic rose; 
And all my grief flows from the rift 
Of unremembered skies and snows. 
Dylan Thomas, “Clown in the Moon”