IT is with great amusement and some incredulity that l watched the elaborate ‘celebrations’ for the ‘great Welsh author’ Roald Dahl. Talk about clutching at straws on an epic scale, as, up until he was six years of age, he spoke Norwegian, as his parents were migrants from Norway. Sure enough, Dahl’s first days of education were in Wales, at Cathedral School, Llandaff, and at the age of eight, he and four friends were caned after putting a dead mouse in a jar of gobstoppers at a local sweet shop. Thereafter, he transferred to a boarding school in England, St Peter’s in Weston-super-Mare, as in a not very Cardiff/Wales-spirited vein, Roald’s parents had wanted him to be educated at an English public school, and, did so courtesy of a ferry link across the Bristol Channel.
I’ve seen a few ‘experts’ on the television extolling the view that he dipped into his memories of Wales as a child to become the famed author that he is, which came from, apparently, speaking Norwegian, unruly schooldays, and getting out of Wales to get a better education. Still, never mind, the celebrations were another great boost to the coffers of our already over-indulged capital city.

Nigel Corten
Newport