Ed is right in many ways, except for missing out the Ash tree. which was, if anything, more venerated in ancient Brythonic – Welsh culture. My Grandfather, born 1876 at Burslem in the Potteries, was 3 generations away from being Welsh, but was the most fanatical supporter of Wales and all things Welsh. As he could not make much impression upon his 8 surviving chldren (5 deceased at various times) he turned to his many grandchildren and flooded our impressionable young minds with what he thought was Welsh folklore and culture. I still remember some of the stuff he forced upon us and so do my surviving cousins. Although he passed in 1954 when I was 9, he was a true believer, even became a Druid, regularly attending the Eisteddfod with his own poetry : https://tinyurl.com/zcqu98g As a published poet myself (mainly under an assumed name) it must be genetic.
It was many years before I began to check all of this, at the suggestion of my dad, who was at loggerheads with granddad for many years and considered himself English to the core. I researched Welsh history and discovered that “Wales” and “Welsh” is not how the people of Cymry saw themselves to be. “Welsh” is actually derived from an Anglo-Saxon word, Weala. Roughly translated, it approximates ‘slave’, which is how the Germanic invaders saw the indigenous Brythonic people. The modern ‘Druid’ movement was in fact a Victorian invention: see Wiki – https://tinyurl.com/ja5ow4p
Modern druids are simply nothing compared to the ancient British and Gallic priesthood, which the Romans did all they could to wipe out in the lands they conquered. Those ancient Druids were trained in memory arts, as there was no written language for the people now called Celts, until the Irish invented Ogham script. The priests were followed, worshipped and obeyed by the people and carried the whole history of their people in their heads, passing it down. Unfortunately the Romans really did wipe them out for good at the last battle of Ynys Mon, the Holy Isle now called Anglesey. The people simply lost all sense of belief, religion and purpose. You can see the results of this race memory at every sporting event between English and Welsh teams. Six generations away from my own ancestors, the hairs still rise at the back of my neck when thousands of voices sing “Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau”, the Welsh National anthem. “Land of Hope And Glory” is almost as good, but “God Save The Queen” is a turgid, boring mess.
Here endeth the history lesson. Sit up at the back, there! :bye:
When the Thought Police arrive at your door, think -
I'm out.
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