Part 2 in process - Alpha Institute for Advanced Studies (AIAS)

made his annual visit to my Uncle Raymond. The Grithig children are all gone now, but were a
close family. Recently I found that my grandfather William John Evans was a fluent Welsh
speaker and hardly drank at all. That stands to reason because I come from four generations in
the direct Evans line of hard working labourers: Edward Evans Llanigon, Edward Evans
Cleirwy, William John Evans, and Edward Ivor Evans Y Grithig. For those four weeks there
was freedom from study and note taking, and the sanity of the small farm compared with the
craziness and instability of Aberystwyth. The idea of a University of Wales will work only if
the staff and students are all fluent in Welsh, otherwise it will be anglicised very quickly with
the familiar colonial mentality. The end result will be the opposite of that desired - hostility
towards the language. In older times learning to a high level took place in farm houses, chapels
and churches. Families held together for generations.
As the new year arrived, 1969, the last of a turbulent and very dangerous decade,
the spectre appeared on the horizon of a return to the cardboard box of “Brig y Don”. This was
even more difficult than the first term, but in the end, towards the middle of January, I drove
my father up to Aberystwyth with some belongings meticulously prepared by my anxious
mother, and the safely guarded notes. The trunk was left safely at home I think. I still have it
here now. It was a gloomy mid winter journey and the doorway of “Brig y Don” eventually
faced us. I was the first student to arrive, so I had one bar of electric fire all to myself. The
landlady in a fit of generosity may even have let me switch on a second bar. My father caught
the huddled gloom of the occasion, and mentioned suddenly that it might be better for me just
to return home with him, and give up this strange insanity. It was very difficult not to comply
with his wishes, but very soon he would be pushing me out again: down a coal mine or into a
factory. So he disappeared back down south, and I was on my own. It was not an unpleasant
feeling because there was no one to contend with. There was time to order my thoughts, look
up the timetable and to find out with some relief that there would be no examinations at the end
of the Easter term. At least I cannot remember any. There were problems and homework. The
lecturing styles were getting more familiar, and the note taking skills were honed up a little.
The other students dribbled in, looking miserable, and the room settled down to
some debate and discussion about all the topics under the moon. The novelty of drinking had
worn off after that first term. I can remember virtually nothing about the lectures or practical
classes, but recollect that the course of lectures by Mansel Davies lasted half a year, so stopped
in the middle of Easter term. They must have been taken over by someone like Cadman, who
was very difficult to follow, almost incomprehensible. Cadman had quite a pleasant character
sometimes, but Mansel Davies was as remote as the moon. I don’t think I asked either any
questions at all. Very soon it began to get cold, so gloves and coats were needed to supplement
the one bar fire and to sit in the cold lecture theatres. The biro ink was in danger of freezing.
The snow came down on Pen Dinas like a curtain of primordial lace, and the ice made patterns
on the tiny window allowed us. The snow came down over all of Aberystwyth and over all of
Wales, blanketing the pitiful and babbling wisdom of humankind in primordial silence. The sea
looked green and black and menacing, and the snow mingled with the sand and pebbles on the
beaches. The black castle stones were jigsawed with white.
So the students of “Brig y Don” took the back of an old chair up to Pen Dinas
and used it as a bobsleigh. I captured them on camera just as they were beginning to realize that