Today I went up into the hills to do something that actually matters for our collective future. I went to vote in what is undoubtedly the biggest and most important vote in our history as a nation. We are currently standing at a threshold where we have to decide if we are going to keep surrendering to the decline. For far too long we have been sitting at the bottom of the pile for almost everything that matters. We are currently suffering with the worst schooling and the worst education of all the home nations. Our healthcare system is in a state of decay and our roads are being intentionally ruined by people who clearly do not value the freedom of the open road. Our economy is struggling and it is a rot that has been allowed to spread for way too long.

This was our one chance to try and fix the issues that have been building up under years of the same leadership. It was a chance to vote for the possibility of a none labour Welsh government for the first time ever. I have made no secret of the fact that I want an end to this current regime and today I finally put my mark where my mouth is.

To be born Welsh is to be born privileged with music in your heart and poetry in your soul. But that privilege comes with a heavy responsibility to protect our heritage and our future. We cannot keep allowing an army of clipboard holding jobsworths to manage our decline while they see liability in every footstep and ruin in every policy. I am an INDIVIDUAL and I refuse to be pigeon holed or told to worship at the heel of those who think they are superior. Today was my own small act of defiance against the encroaching dark. I can only hope that when the dealing is done we see the first spark of dawn for a better and more prosperous Wales.

But that is not what this post is about. Not today. No, today is about an actual change, the kind that makes you stop mid stride and wonder if the world has finally decided to surprise you after three decades of doing the same thing in the same way with the same people.

Ever since I moved to this corner of Wales thirty years ago, every vote has followed the same ancient rhythm. The same trek up into the hills, the same slow climb toward the old hall that looks as if it was built by a committee of druids who ran out of enthusiasm halfway through. Inside, the same two venerable guardians of democracy, who appear to have been carved from oak sometime during the reign of Henry the Eighth, sit behind the same table with the same expressions of polite bewilderment.

Nothing ever changes. Not the room. Not the ritual. Not the gentle smell of dust and civic duty. It has always felt less like voting and more like participating in a seasonal rite, as if I should bring an offering of bread and mead to ensure a good harvest. If you want a reminder of how this little pilgrimage has always unfolded, you can wander back through my older ramblings and revisit the scene. You might start with this ONE where I described the whole affair in loving detail, right down to the creaking floorboards and the eternal nod of the two guardians of the register.

But today was different. Today the air felt charged, as if someone had opened a window in a room that had been closed for far too long. Something had shifted. Something had stirred. And for the first time in thirty years, I found myself thinking that perhaps the old hall on the hill was not just a relic of the past, but a doorway into whatever comes next.

The two unchanging guardians of the sacred voting booth were nowhere to be seen. You know the ones I mean. The people who point you toward the pencil that is taped to a piece of string, the pencil that has seen more elections than most politicians, the pencil with which you make your solemn mark on a bit of paper before dropping it into what is essentially a ceremonial bucket. Those guardians. The eternal watchers of the register. The custodians of the sacred tick.

Gone.

In their place stood two young people. Actual young people. Bright eyed. Upright. Awake. The heavy quiet that usually hangs in the room like the breath of an elderly librarian had been replaced with friendliness and chirpiness and even a spark of excitement at the sight of human beings arriving to vote. It was unsettling in the best possible way, like discovering that the ancient stone circle at the top of the hill has suddenly installed a coffee machine.

I do not know what happened to the elder pair. Were they replaced. Did they finally retire. Or did some unfortunate souls who turned up to vote get used in a strange ceremony involving candles and chanting and possibly a wicker man in order to rejuvenate the guardians into younger forms. I am not saying this happened. I am simply saying that if it did, it would explain a lot.

And now the questions begin to whisper at the back of my mind.

Have they always been there.
Will they always be there.
And now that I suspect them, is it even safe for me to ever go back and vote.

Because once you start noticing these things, once you begin to tug at the loose thread of the familiar, you never quite know what might unravel. Perhaps the voting hall is older and stranger than any of us realised. Perhaps the guardians are part of some ancient civic order that predates the council tax. Or perhaps they simply fancied a day off.

Either way, the world has shifted. The ritual has changed. And I find myself wondering what other small miracles or mild terrors await me the next time I climb that hill to cast my vote.

On this most Welsh of days, when daffodils bloom, dragons stir, and even the leeks stand tall with pride. We raise a toast (of water, if we’re being strangely saintly) to Dewi Sant, our patron of piety, poetry, and peculiar diets.

Born in the 6th century on a stormy Pembrokeshire clifftop (because of course he was), St David lived a life so austere he made monks look like party animals. He preached, he prayed, he founded monasteries, and he famously lived on leeks and water. No beer. No meat. No nonsense (AKA Insanity). Just spiritual grit and a dove on his shoulder.

Legend says that when he spoke at Llanddewi Brefi, the ground itself rose beneath him so all could hear, proving that even the earth couldn’t resist a good Welsh sermon.

His final words? “Gwnewch y pethau bychain” or “Do the little things”.
A reminder that greatness often begins with small acts, quiet kindness, and the occasional leek.

So today, whether you’re wearing a daffodil, baking Welsh cakes, or just whispering “Cymru am byth” to your coffee, know that you’re part of a proud, poetic, and slightly eccentric lineage.

Happy St David’s Day, dear friends.
May your dragons be fierce, your leeks be fresh, and your little things be legendary.

To the Welsh among us: “Happy Santes Dwynwen Day!”
May your love be as enduring as a slate roof in a storm and your pronunciation confuse at least three Englishmen before lunchtime.

To the Scots: “Happy Rabbie Burns Day/Night!”
May your haggis be hearty, your whisky be flowing, and your poetry only slightly slurred by the end of the evening.

And to the rest of you non‑Celts…
Well… tough luck.

Today is for dragons, thistles, ancient saints, questionable folklore, and people who can win an argument using only vowels.

You may observe from a respectful distance and bring snacks

In the beginning the Lord God Almighty turned to the Archangel Gabriel, and said:

“Today I am going to create a beautiful part of the Earth and I will call it Wales. I will make a country of breathtaking blue lakes, rich green forests and dark beautiful mountains from which from time to
time will be snow-covered. I will give it clear, swift rivers that will overflow with salmon and trout.

The land shall be lush and fertile on which the people can raise cattle and grow their food, as well as being rich with precious metals and stones that will be sought after, the World over.

Underneath the land I shall lay rich seams of coal for the inhabitants to mine. Around the coast I will make some of the most beautiful areas in the World. White sandy beaches and cliffs that will attract all manner of wildlife, and lots of islands that will be paradise to all who visit them. In the waters around the shores there will be abundance of sea-life.

The people who will live there will be called the Welsh, and they will be the friendliest people on my Earth. They will have magic in their blood, and songs in their souls. Their Voices when raised in song shall challenge the choir of angels.”

“Excuse me, sire” interrupted the Archangel Gabriel, “don’t you think that you are being a bit generous to these Welsh?”

The lord just smiled and replied “You have not seen the neighbours I’m giving them!”

So as of today “1st December 2015” every Adult in Wales who has not actively gone HERE and stated that they want to keep all their bits when they die will be considered fair game for harvesting.

Or to put it in their words

After the 1st December 2015 if you have not recorded an organ donation decision (opt in or opt out) on the NHS Organ Donation Register, you will be treated as having no objection to donating any of your organs. This is called “deemed consent”.

You are probably thinking that is a good idea, and it will help reduce the size of the list of people waiting on transplants, and even save lives. After all there is a big shortage of organs for transplants in Wales and the UK. In 2012-13, 36 people died in Wales while waiting for a transplant

So this is a good thing right?

Let me leave you with this thought. If you were waiting for a transplant, and you could die without it, and you knew that every person in Wales was now an all you can transplant buffet, would you be willing to wait in the hope someone may die of natural causes in time to save you, or would you plan mass-murder in Wales to get the part you need?

I know what I would do, and NO I am not going to tell you what my decision is.

P.S. On A Side note, you know there are many ways to kill large numbers of people without damaging their internal organs?

In an attempt to persuade more tourists to Wales, The AIJMU think tank team came up with a new flag design, after deciding the old flag’s dragon was a bit to scary looking.

The new flag they feel is more user friendly, implies a happier, kinder country to encourage tourists.