Centre for Material Thinking

Pa bryd mae Ysgol yn peidio â bod yn Ysgol? Pan fo sŵn plant yr iard yn distewi o bosib, pan nad ydy eu chwerthin, eu crio, eu canu a’u cecran yn atseinio drwy’r pentref. Er bod saith mlynedd ers i Ysgol Gynradd Llanwnnen ildio ei theitl swyddogol, mae’r Ysgol yn parhau i arddel yr enw â balchder. Er yr adnewyddu, mae atgof y dysgu yn fyw yng nghof ardal.

Mae gwreiddiau sawl teulu’n dynn yn ei muriau, cenedlaethau a ddysgodd dablau fel pader. Tablau Saesneg yn oes y rhieni, yn Gymraeg yn oes y plant. Dysgu adnabod enwau’r adar, y blodau a’r coed, a phob mêc tractor sy’n pasio ar yr hewl.

Pa bryd mae Ysgol yn peidio â bod yn Ysgol? Pa fydd yr hyn a ddysgwyd yno yn rhan o stori rhywun arall.

When does a School cease to be a School? Could it be when the sound of child play disappears from the yard, when their laughter, their tears, their song and their bickering no longer reverberates throughout this small village. Ysgol Llanwnnen surrendered its formal title seven years ago, but the school still proudly boats its name. Even in its renovated state, the memory of education is still imprinted into the collective memory of the area.

Family trees are rooted to these walls, generations rote learning their times tables. The English times tables of the parents, and the children’s corresponding Welsh. The learning of birds’ names, the flowers and the trees, and every brand of tractor that slowly trudged up our hill.

When does a School stop being a School? When the lessons taught there are now part of someone else’s story.

Yn anaml mae swyddogaeth adeilad wedi’i gerfio i’w muriau, ond mae’r geiriau ar wal hen swyddfa bost Llanwnnen yn dyst o’r hyn a fu, fel ysgrifen ar garreg fedd. Er ymdrechion cyson perchnogion mynd-a-dod y ddau ddegwad a fu, does dim modd gwaredu’r geiriau. Bellach, mae’r holl eiriau wedi’u peintio mor wyn â’i welydd ond mae’r llythrennau mawr concrit yn gwrthod gweddu i’r cefndir. Celwydd ydy’r geiriau bellach, nid ‘Llanwnnen Post Office’ ydy’r adeilad mwyach.  Geiriau sy’n tystio y bu bwrlwm.

It’s rare for a building’s job description to be carved into the walls, but the words on the walls of Llanwnnen’s post office are testament to what has passed, like the writing on a gravestone. They keep defying the many owners’ constant efforts to remove the large concrete letters.  These words have been painted as white as the walls, but the letters cannot simply dissolve into the pebble dash. Today, these words lie, the building is no longer ‘Llanwnnen Post Office’. The words are but a reminder of the vibrancy that once was.

Eirlys… yr enw Cymraeg am Snowdrop yw e… na, does dim llawer o bobl yn ei ddefnyddio fe rhagor. Mae llawer o bobl yn dal i ddefnyddio’r enw Lili Wen Fach fodd bynnag, ond mae Eirlys fel  enw ar gyfer hen fenywod bellach … haha ie, byddai braidd yn od os fyddai rhywun yn galw ei blentyn yn Snowdrop, ond dydyn nhw ddim yn un peth chi’n gweld… Wel, mae nhw’n enwau priod ar gyfer yr un peth, yn rhannu ystyr, ond… ond maen nhw’n eiriau gwahanol. Dim ond cyfuniad o eiriau gwbl generig ydy Snowdrop, byddai plentyn ysgol yn medru gwneud y cysylltiad rhwng y blodyn gwyn a’r eira mis Ionawr sy’n ei amgylchynu. Mae Eirlys, ar y llaw arall, yn enw unrigyw. Nid casgliad o lythrennau, ond sŵn a’i unswydd i ddisgrifio’r blodyn eiddil hwn. A dyma hefyd yy enw ar gyfer fy mamgu eiddil i. Enw Mamgu yw Eirlys nid Snowdrop. Felly rho’r tusw o ba bynnag enw ti eisiau rhoi i’r boldau bach gwyn yna, drwy’r til… mae Mamgu yn yr ysbyty a mae’n awr a chwarter o daith ar y bws.

Eirlys… it’s the Welsh word for Snowdrop… no, not a lot of people use the term anymore. The other form of the word, Lili Wen Fach, is still popular. But Eirlys is a name is reserved for old women by now… Haha yeah, it would be slightly strange to name your child Snowdrop, but it’s not the same thing you see… Well, they are both proper noun for the same thing, they share a meaning that is true, but… but they’re different words. Snowdrop is just a generic combination of words that already exist, a school kid could make the connection between the white flower and the January snow the accompanies its annual bloom. Eirlys, on the other hand, is a unique name. Not a random collection of letters, but a sound whoes sole purpose is to describe this specific, frail flower. It’s also the name of my frail Mamgu. Her name is Eirlys not Snowdrop. So run that bunch of whatever you want to call those small white flowers through the till… Mamgu is in the hospital and it’s an hour and a quarter journey on the bus.

“Ych a fi, ‘drych ar y mwydyn ‘na!”

“Nid ’mwydyn’ ‘di hwnne’, llydwigyn ‘di o…”

“Na, chi’n anghywir, rydw i’n siwr mai’r enw cywir ar gyfer yr anifail yna ydy prygenwair.”

“S’dim ‘ishe ti ‘neud enwe’ lan i edrych yn glyfar, ma’ pawb yn gw’bod ma’ mwydyn yw hwnna’.’’

‘’Lydwigyn dio!’’

‘’Ma’ hwnna’n swnio’n fwy twp ‘na prygenwair.”

‘’Dydy prygenwair ddim yn enw twp!”

“Mae o ‘di gwneud y gair yna fyny ‘sdi.”

‘’Ma’ pob gair wedi ca’l ei ‘neud lan, ‘na shwt ma’ geirie’n gweithio…”

“Prygenwair ydy’r enw Cymraeg cywir!”

“Do’s ‘na ddim y fath beth a Cymraeg cywir.”

“A Cymraeg y Gogs ‘di hwnne’.”

“Chi Gogs mor ffroenuchel…”

“Taw!”

“Ca dy geg!”

“Ydych chi’ch dau yn gallu cau eich lap? ‘Falle’ bo’ ni gyd yn anghywir… ‘Falle’ ma’ worm yw e?”

“O ia, dwi ‘di clywed amdanyn nhw.”

“Mae hynny’n gwneud synwyr.”

“Ych a fi, come ‘ere and ‘ave a look at this mwydyn!”

“That ain’t a mwydyn mate, it’s obviously a llydwigyn…”

“No, you’re both mistaken, that animal right there is most defiantly a prygenwair.”

“Oi, there ain’t no need to make up words just to look like a smarty pants, everybody knows that it’s a mwydyn.”

“It’s a llydwigyn!”

“That sounds more twp than prygenwair!”

“Prygenwair is not twp name!”

“Ya’ know he’s makin’ that word up, right?”

“All words are made up mate, that’s how words work innit…”

“Prygenwair is the correct Welsh term!”

“There ain’t such a thing as correct Welsh.”

“There is, Gogs are always right.”

“You Gogs are so full of yourselves…”

“Taw!”

“Ca dy geg!”

“Can you both just be quiet? Maybe we’re all wrong… Maybe it’s just a worm?

“O ia, I’ve heard of ‘em.”

“That makes sense.”

Cafodd dri chae eu cyfuno i greu’r cae tu ôl fy nghartref i. Cae Fron, Banc Bach a Banc Ucha. Mae’r cae yn ymestyn dros y gorwel nes cyrraedd Cae Owar, caeau’r dafarn. Mae’r cae hwnnw’n ffinio â Chae Ucha, lle mae’r holl adeiladu. Gyferbyn mae Cae Tri Chornel. Mae un o’r corneli yn ffinio â chae y Plantation, a’r llall yn ffinio â Chae Main Ucha, tra bod yr olaf yn dod i gyffwrdd â’r rhewl am Drefach. Hen gaeau yr ysgol oedd Cae Main Ucha cyn i’r contractwr ei brynu. Mae tai newydd yn barod wedi cael eu codi ar dir Cae Main Isa, yr hynaf o adeiladau diweddaraf y pentref. Mae’r tai gyferbyn â nhw, ar hen dir Cae War Ardd fel y petaent wedi bod yno ers cyn cof. Mae canol y pentref wedi ei adeiladu ar dir Cae Bach, er bod ‘na gornel fach ohono, tu ôl i’r hen swyddfa bost, yn cael ei ffermio o hyd. Mae tair stâd cyngor yn Llanwnnen. Bro Grannell i’r De, ar hen ddaear fferm Castell Du, ac fel mae digwydd enw’r cae sydd yn rhoi syflaen i’r stâd ydy Cae’r Castell. Caeau Castell Du sydd yn ymestun ar hyd Llanwnnen nes cyrraedd yr Eglwys, sydd yn berchen ar dir y fynwent ers erioed. Mae’r ddwy stâd cyngor arall i’r Gogledd ac mae’r ddwy wedi eu hadeiladu ar Gae Cart House, er bod y parc chwarae ar gae arall, sef Cae Llain. Y cae hwnnw sy’n fy wynebu i bob bore, ar draws y stryd o ffenestr fy ystafell wely.

Three fields were combined to create a field behind my home. Cae Fron, Banc Bach and Banc Ucha. The large field stretches towards the horizon until it reaches Cae Owar, the pub’s field. That field then borders with Cae Ucha, where all the new houses are being built. Opposite is Cae Tri Chornel. The first of its corners borders with the Plantation field, and the second borders with Cae Main Ucha, as the last joins with the road heading to Drefach. Cae Main Ucha was the school’s property before it was bought by the contractors. New houses have already been constructed in Cae Main Isa, although they are considered old compared to the rest of the village’s new builds. The houses opposite, built on Cae War Ardd, seem as though they have existed forever. The crossroads at the heart of the village was built on the grounds of Cae Bach, but a small corner of it is still being farmed to this day. There are three council estates in Llanwnnen. Bro Grannell is to the south of the village, built on the old grounds of Castell Du, the basis for the name Cae Castell. Castell Du owns the fields of Llanwnnen that stretches on until the Church’s grounds, who have been keepers of the grave yard. The other two council estates are to the north, and both are built on Cae Cart House, except the playing fields which is a whole different field, Cae Llain. This is what I see every morning from my bedroom window.

Melyn Gorn. Twm Dili. Ladi Mawrth. Ffarwel Haf. Hyd Wŷl ‘Hangel. Nododd Waldo lu o enwau y gellir eu defnyddio er mwyn cyfeirio at y Daffodil. Mae fy Mamgu yn cyfeirio atynt fel Blodau Mis Mawrth, sydd braidd yn arwynebol, ond oleia mae’r enw wedi ei wreiddio yn y Gymraeg. Dydy’r Daffodil, fodd bynnag, heb wreiddiau mor ddwfn yn hanes Cymru ag y byddai rhywun yn hoffi’i feddwl. Mae’r gair yn olrhain o Roeg, lle mae’r blodyn yn symbol o hunanoldeb. Gwrthwyneb llwyr i ymadroddion diflas Dewi Sant a oedd yn cael eu hadrodd yng ngwasanaeth’r ysgol gynradd. Ond mae’r symbol wedi datblygu dros y blynyddoedd, o fod yn arwydd o hunanoldeb, i fod yn benwisg gwladgarol y mae menywod mewn trowsus lledr tynn yn eu gwisgo fel het tra’n yfed seidr piws a gweiddi “Go on Leigh” wrth i Louis Rees-Zamit ei heglu hi i lawr yr asgell.

“Melyn gorn ym mlaen y gad.” Roedd y symbol hwn o bwys i Waldo, yn tanio fflam ynddo. Ond nid maes ei frwydr ef oedd llain werdd y Principality.  Mae’n siwr gen i fod gan Waldo fwy i ymladd drosto na Choron Driphlyg.

Melyn Gorn. Twm Dili. Ladi Mawrth. Ffarwel Haf. Hyd Wŷl ‘Hangel. Waldo referred to the Daffodil by many names. My Mamgu refers to them as Blodau Mis Mawrth, which is a tad superficial, but at least its rooted in the Welsh language. The Daffodil, however, has shallower Welsh roots than some would like to believe. It originates from Greece, where the flower is a symbol of selfishness, absolutely the opposite of its symbolic nature in Wales, and the exact opposite of the supposed teachings of Dewi Sant that were used to manipulate us at primary school assemblies. But the  meaning of the flower in Welsh culture has developed over the years, changing from being a symbol for selfishness, into a patriotic head-dress worn by women in leather trousers, drinking fruity cider whilst shouting “Go on Leigh!” as Louis Rees-Zamit strides effortlessly down the wing.

“Melyn gorn ym mlaen y gad.” This symbol meant something to Waldo, it lit a fire within him. His battleground was not the green, green carpet of the Principality. His cause was more worthy that important the Triple Crown.

Prin yw’r termau ecolegol Cymraeg sydd wedi gwrthsefyll traul a thrachwant amser. Felly mae’n syndod fod dau derm yn parhau i fod mewn defnydd, er eu bod yn cyfeirio at yr un planhigyn. Yr un aderyn yn union ydy’r Gwcw a’r Gog, ac yn yr un modd mae Sanau’r Gwcw a Chlychau’r Gog yn cyfeirio at union yr un blodyn.  A oes yna angen am ddau enw gwahanol, yn yr un iaith, ar gyfer disgrifio’r un blodyn hwn? Nac oes. Ydy’r iaith Gymraeg yn gyfoethocach oherwydd hynny? Heb os. Gan nad yw’r termau yn gaeth i ffin daear nac acen mae’n galluogi’r iaith Gymraeg i fod yn unigryw, gan fod modd I siaradwyr Cymraeg ddefnyddio’r term sy’n taro tant gydag hwy’n bersonol. Ond mae’n siwr fydd yna rhyw Gymro diog ney Cymraes ddiog yn anwybyddu’r amryw o opsiynau, yn gwatwar yr hyn a wnaeth oroesi hanes, ac yn honni ag arddeliad fod ‘Clychau Glas’ yn enw derbyniol iawn ar y blodyn hwn.

It’s rare for Welsh ecological terms to survive the erosion of time. Therefore, it’s a miracle that two of these terms are still widely in use today, even though both are used to address the same plant. The Gwcw and the Gog are both exactly the same bird, and in the same way Sanau’r Gwcw and Clychau’r Gog are exactly the same flower. Is there a need for two different names, in the same language, to describe the same flower? Not at all. Is the Welsh language richer due to this? Without a doubt. Because these terms aren’t bound to specific geographical boundaries or accents they allow the speaker to choose which term feels personal to them. But there will always be that one lazy Welshman/woman who will ignore the various available options, mocking these names that defy history, and proclaim with assertion that ‘Clychau Glas’ is the most acceptable term.

Mae’r ddafad Llanwenog yn eiddo i hen ffermwr profiadol. Abertha arian ac erwau i gadw’r ddafad a diadell er nad ydynt yn cynnig llawer o gyfle i’r ffermwr wneud elw. Felly i ba reswm y maent yn cael y fraint o breswylio yn y Cae Dan Tŷ, ac yn orchwyl cyson y ffermwr a’i deulu?  Nid yw’r ffermwr yn dangos gormod o deimlad tuag at y defaid. Mae’n eu dangos mewn sioeau amaethyddol lleol gan ddiawlio ei ddyletswydd i wneud. Mae’n eu bwydo’n gyntaf bob bore ond yn grwgnach wrth wneud cyn ei heglu hi’n syth at y Texels. Ac er iddo dreulio pob adeg wyna mewn cadair wersylla a dwy got drwchus, mae’r defaid di-ddannedd yn mynd yn syth i’r mart heb unrhyw ail-ystyried. Arferiad yw cadw’r defaid, traddodiad diarwybod iddo, fel mae pobol plwy’ Llanwenog wedi’u gwneud erioed.

Mae’r Clanwenugh Sheep yn anifail anwes annwyl ar gyfer ffermwyr hamdden sydd wedi dod i gefn gwlad er mwyn mwynhau ymddeoliad yng nghanol pydferthwch naturiol a byw bywyd syml. I’r ffermwyr yma mae’r Clanwenugh yn frîd prin o dramor sydd angen ei arbed o ddifoddiant a hynny drwy eu had-leoli a rhoi gwell dyfodol iddynt mewn cartref dosbarth canol. Tyddyn delfydol, pum erw a gostiodd ond 750,000 o bunnoedd iddynt. Am fargen! Mae’r ddafad yn rhan o’r teulu, yn un o chwech o chwiorydd. Molly, Polly, Dolly, Wally a Patricia. Cannwyll llygaid eu rhieni, ac felly nid oes yna fyth bygwth lladd-dy. Rhaid cofio fod y ddafad hon yn show sheep llwyddiannus tu hwnt ac wedi derbyn rosét gan ddod yn bumed allan o chwech yn ei dosbarth yn y Sioe Frenhinol yn 2017. Breuddwyd y ddafad hon, yn ogystal â’i pherchnogion, ydy serenu ar Countryfile ac Adam Henson yn eu llongyfarch yn wresog am eu gwaith cadwraeth di-ail.

An experienced, old farmer is the owner of the dafad Llanwenog. He sacrifices his money and land to keep the sheep and its herd, even though they don’t offer much of an opportunity for the farmer to turn a profit. So, what’s the reason that these sheep have the privilege of residing in Cae Dan Tŷ, under the watchful eye of the farmer and his family? The farmer doesn’t show sentiment towards the sheep. He exhibits them in local agricultural shows but always curses his duty to do so. They’re the first to be fed each morning but he grumbles whilst doing so and then hastily retreats towards his Texels. And even though he camps out in the lambing shed each winter, the toothless sheep are quickly shipped off to the mart without any hesitation. It’s a duty and tradition of which the rest of the resident of plwy Llanwenog are unaware. A duty they have undertaken since the dawn of time.

The Clanwenugh sheep is the dear pet of hobby farmers who have moved to relish the country side in retirement and live the good life. To these farmers the Clanwenugh is a foreign breed who that should be conserved, by relocation and a brighter future in a middle-class household. An idyllic five-acre small holding that only cost them 750,000 pounds, a bargain if there ever was one! The sheep is a part of the family, one of six sisters. Molly, Polly, Dolly, Wally, and Patricia. They are the light of their adoptive parents’ lives, and there is no threat of a visit to the slaughterhouse. We must remember that this is a successful, prize-winning sheep, one who has had the privilege of winning fifth-place rosette in her class of six sheep in the 2017 Royal Welsh Agricultural Show. It is this sheep’s dream, as well as its owners, to star on Countryfile with Adam Henson warmly congratulating them for their second to none conservation of the Clanwenugh Sheep.

Nid fferm sy ‘ma bellach. Mae’r caeau’n wersyllfan, y sgubor yn shower block a’r defaid wedi eu cyfnewid am dwristiaid. Busnes i’r rhai sydd eisiau bwrw pen-wythnos hir o wreiddiau. Mae byw off the grid yn nofelti, yn antur. Mae’n syndod ein bod ni’n llwyddo ar y llecyn hwn o bentref, heb ei signal ffôn dibynadwy na gwifren ffeibr. Ond fe wnawn.

There’s no farm here anymore. The fields are a campsite, the barn is a shower block and the sheep have been traded in for tourists. A business for those who want a long weekend escape from their city living. Living off the grid is a novelty, an adventure. To them, it’s a miracle that we thrive with a scant phone signal and no fiber optic. But we do.

Dyma lle bu’r Sgweiar yn preswylio, pan oedd pawb yn codi’i gap ac yn talu rhent iddo.  A’i barchu.

Ni wyddai trigolion y pentref bod ‘na ail-fedyddio ac felly roedd yr arwydd newydd ar y lidiart y peri ychydig syndod i bawb. Enw dieithr na fu ei debyg yn y plwyf o’r blaen, heb amheuaeth.

Ac er nad oes neb yn denant i’r Sgweiar bellach, ei Blasdy e fydd hwn fyth.

This is where the Squire used to dwell, back when everyone in this little village would doff their cap politely and pay their rent on time. He was respected.

The villagers were unaware of the new name, and when the esteemed name on the sign upped sticks and left, the people were surprised. A strange and unusual collection of letters took their place, one that undoubtably had never been seen before in this community.

The Squires does not rule the village by now, yet this will always be his Manor.