Description

---

Ta bailiuchan uathuil de 49 ghrianghraif stairiula le fotheidil bunaidh faoi badoireacht, iascaireacht agus seilg i dTalamh an Eisc agus Labradar, Ceanada 1965-1966 lena n-airitear iomhanna grafacha de fiach roin.] Glactha ag John Penny 18 mbliana d'aois Seirbhis Dheonach Thar Lear (VSO) muinteoir on Riocht Aontaithe a bhi ina gconai agus d'oibrigh se sa scoil phobal aitiuil 1965-66. A dhEanamh ar na grianghraif go mor leis an stair chulturtha, oideachais agus nadurtha na trEimhse agus go halainn thaispeaint ar an taipEis saibhir den saol i agus timpeall Nain ag an am. Dirionn gach albam grianghraf ar ghnEithe Eagsula den bhealach an phobail den saol. Tabhair faoi deara: d'fhEadfadh roinnt lEitheoiri a fhail ar roinnt de na grianghraif ar leibhEal. Grianghraf cludaigh: lionta ar an wharfe deisithe; grianghraif cuirteis John Penny] Edition na hEireann]

About the Author

---

Llewelyn oibrigh leis an Onorach Cheanada Seanadoir William (Bille) Rompkey, ar scriobh stair an Thar Lear Sheirbhis Dheonach (ta) i Labradar. Is e seo a Bille scriobh ina litir chuig an chead dul le cheile de na muinteoiri ta ag Droichead Pateley, North Yorkshire 1-03 Lunasa 2003, ..". Labradar ar a dtugtar chun tu, agus taimid ag glaoch ort anois. Ta suil agam go mbeidh tu a dheanamh cad is feidir leat i rith na cupla la a lionadh isteach ar an taifead Labradar le do cuimhni agus reflections. Beidh se seo ro-cur go mor le stair Labradar. ach den chuid is mo ta suil agam go mbainfidh tu taitneamh as do chuid ama le cheile. Llewelyn Pritchard deanta post iontach a thabhairt duit le cheile. Ta se chomh shrewd mar Holmes agus chomh bhuanmharthanacha mar a Poirot. D'fheadfadh se a bheith fiu Cheanada iontach! Taimid faoi chomaoin do nios mo na mar is feidir linn a rA. TA se ina ocaid agus ta a fhios agam go mbeidh se a bheith rathuil. Gach mian leis go maith. Bille Rompkey" Interview with Llewelyn Pritchard: Where did you grow up, and how did this influence your writing? I grew up on the Black Mountain north of Swansea, South Wales. I haven't really got a clue how this influenced my writing except I suppose it instilled in me a great love of nature, adventure and the outdoors. I am the son of an elite collier and I would much rather take this opportunity to dedicate this great poem to his memory: In Memory of my Dad "My father was a miner, He worked deep underground; The rush of drams and clanking chains. They were his daily sounds. He worked so far below the ground. Where coal was hewed by pick, The work so hard and wages small He didn't dare go sick. He crawled upon his belly. In drifts so low and narrow, The wind it whistled down the shaft. It chilled him to the marrow. He ate his food from a Tommy box, Shaped like a slice of bread, While squatting down upon the ground, Where spit and crumbs were shed. His water, it was in a Jack, to wet down clouds of dust, That gathered daily in his throat and lungs. Where it formed a deadly crust. We would listen for his footsteps, He then came into sight: This man, our Dad, as black as black, just like the darkest night; Right down his back white rivers ran amongst the dirt and grime, But you cannot wash away blue scars. That you get down the mine. Years now have passed. My father gone, But I am proud to say, My Father was a miner, until his dying day." by William Holden