fotoLibrarian

I had a call from a stranger on Sunday night. "Your house was on television this morning," she said.

Luckily we have a spiffy TV box which allows us to look at programmes that have been broadcast over the last week. So I sat down and watched Countryfile, normally broadcast on BBC1 at 11:00 on Sunday mornings — not a time I'm normally slumped in front of the telly, I must confess.

In fact I'd never heard of the programme until I suddenly remembered I'd been interviewed on it a year ago, talking about (you could have guessed it) follies. Why will no major TV network give me an hour of prime time TV to talk about fotoLibra?

So on the screen comes the view from the office (this is the registered office of fotoLibra we're talking about here) with a bunch of sheep in the foreground. No surprise there, but these were rocking sheep.

There's a guy in the Harlech industrial estate who makes rocking horses sheep. They're really fun. So the producer scouted around till he/she found unarguably the best view in Europe and filmed there.

Which happens to be right outside our window. And they put in a positioning shot back to the house, a one-second glimpse.

There's lovely, yes?

There's a new version of this classic 1970s movie opening in the UK tomorrow, starring Nicolas Cage. I'm a fan of Cage; he makes a good film star.

One thing we all know without even bothering to show up at the local flea pit is that it won't be a patch on the wonderfully kitsch, floaty, flowery original. Cage has the ability to turn up in some really shocking vehicles, like Captain Corelli's Mandolin, unarguably the worst film ever made from a good book.

The original Wicker Man had everything: a weird local population, a true Babe in Britt Ekland, a bizarre and fanciful story line and a great setting in the fictitious island of Summerisle, somewhere near Scotland.

But the original original Wicker Man was Welsh. Now you can't say things or places are Welsh, because Americans have never heard of the place so they won't give you any money. That's why everything has to be set in the USA, or Ireland (all Americans have at least one Irish ancestor) or, at a pinch, Scotland. The remake of that iconic Brit film of the 60s,The Italian Job, was set in Los Angeles, and a bigger load of tosh I have never seen. Complete and utter bollocks every second of the way.

Here's the earliest known depiction of a Wicker Man, and as you can see from the caption, it is indubitably Welsh.

This picture is on fotoLibra at http://www.fotolibra.com/gallery/image/?image_id=8652
The keywords are Customs, Society, human sacrifice, Wales, Welsh, ancient Britons, horror, idol, pagan, pre-Christian, Gwiail-eilun y Brutaniaid i Aberthu Drwgweithredwyr i'w Gau-Dduwiau, wicker idol of the Britons for the sacrifice of evil-doers to false Gods

Sad, isn't it, when we have to resort to a spectacularly barbaric means of slaughter to claim some semblance of national identity.

In some cultures this is the greatest crime. In Siena, Italy they run a horse race round the main square twice a year, on July 2nd and August 16th. Ten of the city's seventeen parishes race to win a banner, called the Palio (so the race is known as the Palio). The square is cobbled and alarmingly steep on one side, although for the race they throw down some earth. The riders are bareback. There are always some injuries, sometimes some fatalities; usually the horses, sometimes the jockeys.

Winning means ecstasy for the parish, or contrade. The losers simply shrug their human or equine shoulders and plan to race another day.

But the humiliation of coming second is unbearable. Death is preferable. Falling off the horse to avoid the disgrace is not an option, because a riderless horse can still win the race -- or come second.

We northern Europeans aren't quite as cut and dried. Coming second in our culture at least shows you took part. Maybe our pride isn't stretched quite as taut.

fotoLibra came second last night. There was a big event, the Business in Wales awards, sponsored by the Western Mail, the South Wales national newspaper. We were up for the Excellence in Marketing award.

Now some of you know that fotoLibra isn't the biggest company on the block. We only started in January last year, and we were up against the best that Welsh business had to offer. We were up against Wales's biggest brewers Brains, sponsors of the Welsh Grand Slam winning rugby team, and the Celtic Manor Resort, owned by Wales's richest man, and the venue for golf's Ryder Cup in 2008. Brains won it, and we didn't. So in reality we did very well.

But oh dammit, dammit, dammit.

Sometimes I feel Sienese. Val di Montone, for preference.

Wales 18, Italy 18.

The first away points ever taken by Italy in the Six Nations. Congratulations and well played to Italy.

Wales, what were you doing? We should have annihilated them!

No direction, no fire, no passion, no brio – sorry, brio is an Italian word. Hwyl is what we lacked.

I shall go to the return match in Rome next season with a bunch of English pals.

They will be happy whatever.

Whatever.

Happy St. David’s day everybody! St. David was an ascetic who made today’s ayatollahs look like hedonistic libertines. As patron saint of Wales (today is his Saint’s Day, and the National Day of Wales) a lot of that early influence still obtains.

Wales is not always the fiesta- and carnival-loving land of sun and dance our tourist board depicts. We also have grim, dour, unsmiling men who meet in committees to discuss how best to destroy icons such as our national game. Recently they have been uncommonly successful.

Today the Queen opens the Senedd, the National Assembly for Wales. It’s a sort of giant town council for a country which isn’t absolutely certain of its national status. We were annexed by England five or six centuries ago so to all intents and purposes we’re actually just another region of England. But we don’t feel English.

Nice building though, designed by the Anglo-Italian architect Richard Rogers.

Back to Dewi Sant. He died sometime between 544 and 601, allegedly aged 147. Two memorable stories about him: he was such an eloquent preacher that a hill rose beneath him as he spoke, and he made his followers only drink and wash in cold water.

The daffodil is Wales’s national flower. The leek is Wales’s national vegetable. There’s practical, yes? Snag is that the word cenhin (pl. cenhinau) means both daffodil AND leek in Welsh.

Here’s a simple recipe created by Yvonne Seeley that we often eat to celebrate the national day. Dewi would have shuddered at such sybaritic pleasure.

Cenhinau Dewi Sant (Leek wrapped in ham)
Cut the leeks to the same size
Parboil the leeks
Wrap each leek in thinly sliced ham or bacon
Make a rich Caerphilly cheese sauce with dried mustard and pour over the leeks
Grate Illtyd cheddar on top
Bake until golden brown.

By the way, do we also get a National Holiday? No. Surprised? No.

One centimetre of snow has fallen overnight. It’s a glorious sunny day, and the Welsh transport infrastructure has ground to a halt.