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Of all the great characters in Welsh history - and there are many - none is more unusual, more fascinating and more downright bizarre than Evan Morgan, the last Viscount Tredegar.

Evan succeeded to the title in 1934 but by then his reputation for outlandish behaviour had been well established. Born in 1893, by the beginning of the First World War Evan Morgan was abroad in society. Over the next 30 years he created the myth of wildness and extravagance that has lasted until today.

A poor poet and painter, he was nevertheless adviser on art to the Royal Family. He dabbled on the artistic fringes of society and Queen Mary referred to him as her favourite . He was also something of a favourite with Lloyd George and was a great influence on , Churchill's right hand man. Those were the more acceptable sides to his character and behaviour.

At his palatial Tredegar House, just on the edge of Newport, he kept a menagerie of wild animals, including a boxing kangaroo and whole flocks of birds that easily and effortlessly did his bidding. More often than not the animals lived inside the house rather than outside. His friends included writers like and , artists such as and, above all, the great 'black magician' .

Known as 'the Black Monk', Evan was an expert in the occult and even built himself a 'magik room' - the spelling was deliberate - at Tredegar House. Crowley visited him many times, and declared the room the best equipped he had ever seen. Crowley, known throughout Europe as the 'Great Beast', took part in many weird and perhaps terrifying rituals at Tredegar Park and christened Evan 'adept of adepts'. Sometimes those rituals frightened even Crowley.

During the Second World War Evan was a high ranking officer in , his particular responsibility being the monitoring of carrier pigeons. When he foolishly and carelessly let slip the departmental secrets - to two girl guides, would you believe - Evan was court martialled and was lucky to get away without a term of imprisonment, or even the firing squad.

In retaliation Evan Morgan called Aleister Crowley to Tredegar House to take part in a cursing ritual on his commanding officer. Whatever Evan said or did it frightened Crowley so much that he left before the process was complete. And, amazingly, Evan's CO soon contracted some mysterious illness and nearly died!

Despite his openly acknowledged homosexuality Evan was twice married, to actress Lois Sturt and to the Russian Princess Olga Dolgorouky. Neither marriage was a success and Evan continued to flaunt and entertain his male lovers in hotel bedrooms across Europe.

As if that was not enough, he was able to put his obsession with the occult on hold for a short period while he converted to Catholicism, becoming Chamberlain to Popes Benedict XV and Pius XI. He went to study at the English College in Rome - although the amount of studying he did was limited in the extreme - and was soon a well known figure around Rome, driving through the city in a Rolls Royce that had a portable altar in the back.

The stories of Evan Morgan's behaviour are legend but perhaps the most mysterious and intriguing episode in his life came in 1932. That year he was invited to a small private dinner and meeting at a restaurant in Bad Wiesse, just outside Munich. Nothing unusual in that, you might say - except that you then look at the other guests. They included , the deputy of what was fast becoming the most significant political party in Germany, right wing British artist Sir Francis Rose, - head of Hitler's or Brownshirts - and his deputy .

What was discussed at the meeting will never be known but all of the diners were ferociously right wing in their politics. Many of them were gay and a large number were fascinated by the occult. This was the period just before Hitler came to power and it would not be stretching things too far to suggest that the emergent Nazi party was trying to find out how things were run in Britain, perhaps by courting one of the wealthiest aristocrats in the country.

Evan Morgan continued to maintain distant links with the Nazis. Some years later was on the Isle of Capri for a meeting with Italian dictator . In the room next door was Evan Morgan. Evan's parrot, a bird that used to sit obediently on his shoulder as he walked around, apparently bit Goring on the nose - much to the displeasure of the portly German.

During the war, after he had parachuted into Britain in an attempt to end the conflict, Rudolph Hess was imprisoned at Abergavenny, not too many miles distant from Tredegar House. If Hess and Evan knew each other - however slightly - they would surely have met. Hess might even have come to Tredegar House as he was given a fair degree of freedom and latitude to journey around eastern Wales. Was Evan Morgan one of the people Hess was hoping to use as an intermediary in his bid to end hostilities? It is a fascinating speculation.

Unfortunately, it will remain just speculation. Like so much that went on in his life, we will never know what was really going on in the mind of Evan Morgan. He remains one of Wales' greatest and most memorable eccentrics.

Listen to the story of Evan Morgan and that meeting in Munich on The Past Master, the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Wales history programme, broadcast on Sunday 2 January 2011 at 5.30pm.

Anyone who drives up the A477 from south Pembrokeshire to the northern part of the county will pass over the magnificent structure of the Cleddau Bridge.

Cleddau River in the fog. Photograph by George Johns.

They will wonder at the glorious views down Milford Haven towards the sea, but they will probably never realise that this was the site of the last major bridge disaster in the United Kingdom.

It happened during the construction process. The bridge was - and is - of a . In other words it was built in sections or self contained boxes that were trundled out along the partially completed bridge and simply lowered onto the front of the construction.

On 2 June 1970, as one of the box girder sections for the bridge was being positioned and lowered into place, there came a deafening rumble and the bridge sections on the Pembroke Dock side of the river plummeted to the ground. Four workmen were killed and five more were injured in the disaster.

It could have been so much worse. The bridge passed virtually over the top of Pembroke Ferry, a tiny village on the southern shore of the , but when it collapsed the debris and the falling box girder sections missed the houses by just a few feet. It was a very lucky escape.

The River Cleddau has always divided the county of Pembrokeshire in two and before the bridge was built there were only two ways of moving from one part of the county to the other: either by driving the long way round through narrow lanes and B roads or by taking a ferry boat across the often choppy waters of the river.

From the mid 1850s the Admiralty, who ran the dockyard at Pembroke Dock, agreed to allow steam driven ferry boats to dock at their jetty and fitting out berth of Hobbs Point.

These ferries would then take people - dockyard workers amongst them - across the river to Neyland. The ferry boats ran for many years, the county council taking over the process in 1950.

The ferry boats became famous on both sides of the river, vessels like the Alumchine, Lady Magdalene and Cleddau King plying their way across the water at all times of the day and night.

When the Admiralty closed the dockyard at Pembroke Dock in the years after World War One part of the establishment was taken over by the RAF as a flying boat base. At one time this was the largest flying boat base in the world.

The huge Sunderland aircraft that lay moored out in the river for many years provided something of a hazard for the ferry boats, particularly when they were taxiing for landing or take off.

As the 20th century unfolded it became clear that the ferries, despite their interest and sentimental appeal, could not hope to cope with the growing density of traffic and in the mid 1960s it was decided to build a bridge across the Cleddau.

Actually there were to be two bridges, the first one across the main waterway and a smaller one spanning the creek at Westfield Pill in order to link to the main A477. The contract for construction was awarded to the firm of AE Farr and the estimated cost was to be £2.1 million. The aim was to complete the building process by spring 1971.

The collapse of the bridge on 2 June 1970 and the trauma of the event brought construction to a sudden halt. An inquiry was immediately called.

After much deliberation it was decided that the disaster had been caused by inadequate supports on the pier that was lowering the box girder section into place. There was also, apparently, a failure of organisation and communication on the building site itself.

As a result of the disaster and the subsequent inquiry new British Standards for the design and construction of Box Girder bridges were brought in. These seem to have been effective as there have been no further disasters involving box girder bridges - and, it is hoped, there never will be.

The Cleddau Bridge was eventually finished at a cost of £11.83 million, rather more than had been originally foreseen.

It was opened to traffic on 20 March 1975 and the ferry boats that had, for so many years, plied their trade across the river were duly towed away for scrapping.

In the first year of operation 885,900 crossings were made on the new Cleddau Bridge - considerably more than would ever have ventured onto the ferry boats.

The bridge is now a crucial part of the infrastructure of south Wales but we should never forget the cost of its creation, in both financial terms and, more importantly, in human life.

These days we are used to our main or major eisteddfodau being held in the summer months - the Urdd in the week of the Whitsun holiday, the in the first week of July and the National Eisteddfod in the first week of August.

It hasn't always been like that and, even now, in many parts of Wales the "winter eisteddfod" is still an important part of the cultural year.

The very first eisteddfod took place over the Christmas period of 1176.

The three main events remain very much a part of the summer programme of festivities. It is interesting to note, therefore, that the very first eisteddfod actually took place not in the summer, but over the Christmas period of 1176.

The term "eisteddfod" was not used for this first event and did not achieve common parlance until the 15th century. When this first cultural gathering was called it was known simply as a bardic tournament.

Following the victory of Duke William - William the Conqueror as he became known - at the Battle of Hastings in 1066 there took place a piecemeal division of England.

The great lords and warriors who had been persuaded to help William in his campaign greedily accepted their payment or prizes - prizes that invariably meant huge parcels of land previously owned by the Saxon Earls.

Wales, however, was left untroubled for some time. It was a wild and ferocious country where for many years, both before and after the Normans began their incursions, the king's writ truly "did not run."

Only in the late 11th century, when the great Marcher Lords of Chester, Shrewsbury and Hereford finally felt strong and powerful enough, were the first attacks made across Offa's Dyke.

The next 200 or so years saw a period of intense warfare and bloodshed as the Norman barons and the Welsh princes clashed in battle after battle, campaign after campaign.

It was a see-saw period with first one side then the other gaining the upper hand.

However, by 1155 had, through military strength and cunning, managed to bring all of Deheubarth - the western parts of Wales - under his control.

It had been a long and powerful struggle and Rhys had been forced to submit to the power of Henry II, the English king, on no fewer than four occasions.

Such was the Welsh determination, however, that no sooner had Henry withdrawn his troops, thinking that the war had finished, Rhys rebelled and rose up in defiance once again. Henry was finally forced to come to terms with Rhys, formally granting him the title Lord of Ystrad Tywi. He has been known as the Lord Rhys ever since.

There were to be further campaigns and battles in the years ahead but, for now, the Lord Rhys felt sufficiently secure to turn his mind to matters other than warfare.

What Rhys wanted was to organise and run a cultural event that would underline his position as the most important Welsh chieftain in the country.

He had seen and enjoyed many aspects of Norman culture or life style but knew also that he could not afford to alienate his native Welsh followers.

He was fond of music and poetry and, like most of the Welsh princes, patronised bards who, in return, wrote long odes or verses extolling the significance of the Lord Rhys.

What he now decided to do was to hold a bardic tournament over the Christmas period of 1176/77, a festival of music and poetry - for prizes - that would celebrate the arts and ensure the supreme position of the Lord Rhys as a far-sighted ruler and as a major supporter of artistic endeavour.

Such a gathering of poets, singers and musicians probably owed more to Norman than Welsh influences as, up to that point, there had not been any similar event in Wales. In France, however, they were a common occurrence.

It was a significant moment in Welsh history as all of the eisteddfodau since held in the country owe more than a little to this first event.

Perhaps even more important, however, was the statement Rhys was making by holding the tournament in Cardigan Castle rather than at Dinefwr, the traditional seat of rulers of Deheubarth.

Cardigan, recently restored, was a stone-built castle and both it and the surrounding Borough of Cardigan had been recently acquired from the invading Normans. Rhys was clearly showing his power and position to Normans and Welsh alike.

This first eisteddfod had many of the aspects of the modern event. The tournament was announced a year in advance and minstrels and bards from places as far-flung was Ireland and France were invited to come to Cardigan to compete.

Two bardic chairs were to be awarded to the victors in poetry and music. A bard from Gwynedd in North Wales won the poetry chair while the son of Eilon the Crythwr, from Rhys' own court, claimed the prize for music.

Now regarded as the first eisteddfod ever held in Wales, it does not take much imagination to conjure visions of the festivities, the singing and dancing, the feasting and flirting, that undoubtedly took place at Cardigan over that Christmas period in 1176.

Bardic tournaments continued to be held during the 15th and 16th centuries until the Acts of Union in the reign of Henry VIII saw eisteddfodau decline in importance. From that point on it became more important to look to London if you wanted financial and political favour and Welsh noblemen and the emerging middle classes turned their backs on Welsh culture.

Not until the Gorsedd of Bards held a special ceremony at the Ivy Bush Hotel in Carmarthen in 1819 did the eisteddfod once again become a significant factor in Welsh life. But, in one form or another, the eisteddfod survived and the Lord Rhys, by calling his first bardic tournament at Cardigan in 1176, had begun a tradition that continues in the present day.

Like most other parts of Britain, Wales has long had its own Christmas and New Year traditions, practices and superstitions that have now largely died out - which is something of a shame as they are fascinating examples of social history.

Hunting the wren took place on Twelfth Night

In the days before Christmas it was always customary to decorate your house with huge swathes of mistletoe and holly.

Mistletoe was supposed to protect the family from evil while holly was there as a symbol of eternal life. When you consider that mistletoe had always been regarded as the sacred plant of the ancient druids it is not too difficult to see its importance as a symbol for people living in isolated parts of rural Wales.

The old Welsh custom of plygain has now totally died out. It was an early service in either church or chapel, sometimes beginning as early as three in the morning. At this service men - always men, never women - would sing Christmas carols for three or four hours, unaccompanied and in three part harmony.

Whilst waiting for plygain to begin families would occupy themselves in Taffy making.

Toffee would be boiled in pans over the open fire and then, when it was almost cooked, huge mounds of the toffee would be dropped into ice cold water. The moment it hit the water the "Taffy" would curl into strange and unusual shapes. Some of these shapes closely resembled letters and were thought by younger family members to indicate the initials of any future love.

One less than palatable tradition on Boxing Day was that of holly beating. Boys and young men would take sprigs of holly and roam the streets looking for young women. When they encountered them they would hit out at their arms and legs, beating them with the holly - sometimes until their victims bled.

One variation of this violent tradition - which probably had its origins in the scourging of Christ on his way to the cross - was for the last person out of bed on Boxing Day morning to be beaten with the holly sticks. Thankfully, for all concerned, this tradition seems to have died out towards the end of the 19th century.

As with Scotland, the tradition of "first footing" was always important in Wales. There were differences, however. If the first visitor across a Welsh threshold was either a woman or a red haired man it was considered terribly unlucky for the household.

Another important Welsh tradition in the Victorian Age was to never lend anything on New Year's Day. A person's behaviour on that auspicious day was usually considered to be an indication of the way they would conduct themselves for the rest of the year.

The most renowned of the New Year traditions in Wales, however, was that of the Mari Lwyd, the phrase meaning the Grey Mare.

There have been attempts to revive the tradition in certain parts of the country - not entirely successfully. The Mari Lwyd was a horse's skull covered with a white sheet and ribbons. It had false ears and eyes and was carried on a long pole.

Gangs of men and young boys would carry the Mari Lwyd from door to door. They had usually consumed copious amounts of alcohol and the procession would be accompanied by a growling cacophony of noise.

When a door was opened the householder would be assailed by poems and insults - in Welsh - and to this they were expected to reply in like form. When the verbal battle had been won or lost the Mari Lwyd and her followers were invited inside for yet another drink.

In the 19th century the churches and chapels began to object to the violence and drunkenness that invariably accompanied a visit from the Mari Lwyd and, gradually, the singing of carols began to replace the poems and insults. There are many who say this "watering down" of the tradition led to the eventual demise of the Mari Lwyd.

Calennig is another Welsh custom that died out at the end of the 19th century. From dawn until dusk on 1 January small parties of boys would pass from house to house in the village or town, carrying twigs of evergreen plants and cups or jugs of water. They would use the twigs to splash water at people and, in return, would receive the calennig - small copper coins.

Christmas, of course, did not end until Twelfth Night and in Wales the custom of hunting the wren was something that took place on this last night of festivities. Men would catch a wren, put it in a wooden box and carry it from door to door. Householders would then pay a penny for the privilege of lifting the lid of the box in an attempt to see the tiny bird.

These days there are very few traditions that have survived. Time, of course, changes everything and many of the old customs were politically very incorrect. Yet they remain an important part of our history.

Of all the many Welsh men and women to have undoubtedly influenced the course of British life over the centuries, none is more mysterious than John Dee.

Queen Elizabeth I believed in John Dee's magical powers

A mathematician and teacher of navigation, an astrologer and astronomer, an alchemist and, by all accounts, a magician too, John Dee occupies that mysterious middle ground between science and folklore.

He sits, a fascinating figure, somewhere between the canting spells of Macbeth's witches and the wonderful discoveries made during the 16th century's voyages of exploration.

Born in London on 13 July 1527, both of Dee's parents were Welsh - the family name derives from the Welsh word du, meaning black - but, as with many ambitious young men, from an early age his eyes were set on London and the court.

Educated at , he was later a Founding Fellow at Trinity College and quickly became renowned in the fields of mathematics and navigation.

While still in his twenties Dee was invited to lecture on algebra at the University in Paris and, as a young man, he traveled widely on the continent.

Perhaps it was this period of travel, combined with his love of mathematics, that led him to the art of navigation.

As his reputation grew, many of the sea rovers and explorers, men who were beginning to carve out new territories and lands for Elizabeth and England, came to him for advice and instruction.

Dee had a practical side to his nature and as well as being the first person to apply to navigation, he also contrived to build many of the instruments the early navigators needed on their journeys.

There are those who believe John Dee was also the first man to use the term 'British Empire.' He certainly had a vision and a dream of creating a standing British navy and of establishing a realm of interest and power for Britain - England would probably be a more accurate word - that stretched right across the Atlantic Ocean to the New World.

John Dee continued to travel widely for most of his life. From 1553 to 1559 he roamed central Europe and later journeyed to Hungary to present the Holy Roman Emperor with a copy of his book Hones Hieroglyphia.

His life was not without troubles, however. In 1555 he was charged with 'calculating' - casting horoscopes for both Queen Mary and for Princess Elizabeth. This charge was quickly increased to one of treason and for a while his life was in serious jeopardy.

He appeared before the Court of Star Chamber but, with some brilliance, he managed to exonerate himself. Despite this he was, thereafter, subjected to regular abuse and accusation - powered, undoubtedly, by fear and jealousy - and, as a result, he developed a lifelong penchant for secrecy.

When Princess Elizabeth became Queen Elizabeth she offered Dee a considerable amount of patronage. Quite apart from his skill in navigation, the queen believed in his magical powers and consulted him on a regular basis.

He chose her coronation date and even cast a spell on the Spanish Armada in 1588 - presumably the Queen was suitably grateful. He continued to advise both her and her influential ministers including Walsingham and Cecil.

Always hovering, perhaps uneasily, in the area between science and magic - a phenomenon of the age as much as anything else - John Dee spent the last 20 or 30 years of his life trying to communicate with angels.

What he was doing was, in fact, searching for divine forms. He believed in them implicitly - along with many other men and women of his age - and he was even to claim that angels had dictated several of his books.

In 1595 Queen Elizabeth appointed Dee to the position of Warden of Christ's Hospital College in Manchester. It was almost the last act of patronage before Elizabeth died a few years later.

Her successor, James I, had little or no time for magic or superstition and Dee declined in influence from that point onwards. He spent the final years of his life in poverty, dying in either 1608 or 1609 - the date is unclear.

He was buried in but his gravestone has since disappeared and it is not possible to verify the exact date of his death. He was 82 years old, a considerable age for the 16th and 17th centuries.

John Dee was married twice and had eight children. He was a writer of considerable skill but, despite his interest in magic and his influence over the Queen, it is as a mathematician and teacher of navigation that his legacy really lies - yet another remarkable Welshman who influenced a whole generation.

Forty five years ago the Cold War classic The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, starring Richard Burton, was released. Alongside Claire Bloom and Oskar Werner, Burton played the flawed and manipulated spy Alec Leamas, the "lowest currency of the Cold War" who, in a world of courtrooms and Kalashnikovs, ends up betrayed, heartbroken and riddled with bullets.

Richard Burton

Adapted from the John le Carré novel, and directed by Martin Ritt, the film went on to receive four BAFTAs, with Burton getting one of his seven Oscar nominations in the process. The film served as a shining example of of the period's paranoia by framing the monochrome reality of spy games, hinting at a terrifying future in the process.

Between 1945 and 1991 the Soviet Union and the USA faced off in an atmosphere of potentially catastrophic brinkmanship. With nuclear warheads trained on each other's cities no nation would be safe from any exchange. The Cuban Missile Crisis, Korean War, and the were just a few near misses that held the world on the brink of nuclear catastrophe. Most nations planned for the worst, and Wales was no exception.

This Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Wales Today video from 1970 goes inside the Cardiff Regional War Room at Coryton, just outside Cardiff, near junction 32 of the M4. Built in 1952 the facility was to house the regional administration in the event of a nuclear attack.

Similar bunkers were built from the 1950s onwards to house regional government in the event of all-out war. Coryton held this infamous role until the late 50s, eventually replaced by RSG 8 at Brecon.

"By the late 1960s RAF Valley, RAF Brawdy, Cardiff and Swansea were thought to be the likely Welsh targets in a nuclear attack on Britain," says , senior lecturer in History at Swansea University. "Brecon was also considered a possibility since it had been mooted as a centre for a regional government in any future war.

"People in Cold War Wales were all too aware that Wales was also part of the bigger world, a world that was dangerous and insecure. Taking note of this sense of unease is all the more important because it offers a different picture to the idea of post-war affluence.

The remains of civil defence are scattered throughout Wales. They range from non-descript overgrown concrete blocks to a . During the Cold War such installations existed at Swansea, Prestatyn, , Brackla and Caerwent - home of the United States Air Force's main non-nuclear bomb store in Britain.

The fear of a Soviet attack containing hundreds of nuclear warheads touched young and old throughout Wales for decades. The intrigues and fear manifested itself in fiction and popular culture. From Leamas' weary and tragic figure to Michael Caine's role as Harry Palmer in and . Add to that the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú's glorious, terrifying part-drama, part-documentary Threads, where the city of Sheffield is subject to the horror of nuclear war and a whole range of anxiety and horror is revealed.

Jeremy Paxman described how it could have really been in this clip from a 1980 episode of Panorama, titled ...If The Bomb Drops.

"In 1953 civil servants estimated that three 'Nagasaki type' bombs might be dropped on Wales in the event of a war with the USSR," adds Johnes. "Assuming evacuation plans worked, they calculated - or guessed, given the lack of actual evidence - that 6,000 people would be killed in Cardiff, 4,000 in Swansea and 16,000 in Newport.

"Added to this, another 8,000 people would be seriously injured in the three places and 39,000 houses destroyed or irreparably damaged. The total death toll in Britain would be over 1.3 million."

The of 2010 has been over for some months now, the cup safely tucked away in the trophy cabinet of the R&A - at least for the next two years.

Thousands of golf fans defied the rain and mud to descend on the Celtic Manor in October.

There is no doubt that it was a fantastic occasion, for golf and for Wales, and despite the rain the proved to be the ideal host venue. People across the world saw the scenes and, perhaps for the first time in their lives, realised what a beautiful country Wales was.

But what about the Celtic Manor itself? How much do we know about its history?

Well, for a start it sits smack on a number of old Roman roads, the Via Julia being the most important. If you are interested in the history of Roman Britain this could be the ideal place to make a start.

The Roman involvement in Wales was limited - the people were far too warlike to allow easy access. But the legionary fort at lies only a mile or so away from Celtic Manor and this was one of the most important military garrisons in the northern extremities of the Roman Empire.

It was a frontier fort and was always full of soldiers and the "hangers on" who accompanied any military establishment in those days.

A little further on is the Roman town of , a significant settlement that needed to be guarded. And in order for soldiers to move quickly about there needed to be roads - hence the fact that Celtic Manor sits astride at least three of them.

Of course, we now know the place as a hotel and golfing complex. The house that formed the basis for the first hotel on the site was built in the 1860s and was called Coldra House.

It was the home of Thomas Powell Jnr, then Chairman and owner of the Powell-Duffryn works and coal mines. Unfortunately he did not live in the house for long as he, his wife and young son were murdered while on holiday in Abyssinia.

The body of Powell's son was never recovered and this led to several ghoulish suggestions in the local press of the time, even to accusations of cannibalism by the natives. Such suggestions were highly unlikely but in the 1860s anywhere abroad was considered exotic.

Coldra House remained in the Powell family, being leased out, until 1915 when it was sold to shipping magnate Sir John Beynon.

He added a new wing and made several other alterations but in the late 1930s he donated the buildings to the local Health Authority. Coldra House became a maternity hospital, opening on 1 January 1940.

Before the hospital closed its doors in 1975 it is reckoned that over 60,000 babies were born there. One of them was who, with the old house boarded up and ready for demolition, decided that it still had a part to play in the life of Newport - and Wales.

Sir Terry, founder of Mitel and Newbridge Networks in Canada, was also Chair of Celtic Inns and hoped to turn the old hospital into a top quality hotel complex.

The original plan was for a 17 bedroom hotel and an 18 hole golf course. The hotel duly opened in 1982 but the golf course was delayed and did not come into operation until the 1990s.

Since then the hotel has been extended and developed and now has over 300 rooms and several conference centres. There are three separate hotels - the Resort Hotel, the Manor House and The Newbridge on Usk, just a few miles away, and a total of three golf courses - the Twenty Ten, the Roman Road and the Montgomerie.

The 2010 Ryder Cup was played on the Twenty Ten Course, the first golf course ever designed and built specifically for the Ryder Cup. Thousands of golf fans, European and American, defied the rain and mud to descend on the Celtic Manor.

They came, primarily, to watch the golf but it would be good to think that some of them at least stopped to consider the fascinating history of the hotel and the area - and, more importantly, to make a conscious decision to come back at some stage in the future.

In man's 'roaming about' development, horse-riding followed walking, coaches followed horses, trains followed coaches, bikes slipped in there somewhere, along came motor cars and then, my favourite group movement conveyance trundled out: the bus.

Man oh man, my love affair with the bus goes back years. As I write I can see seven of them, all models, sitting on one of our bookshelves. My father was a coal-miner, but for years he changed to transport, and, when I was a little boy, his life was buses.

He worked nights in the James & Sons garage in Ammanford, fueling and cleaning the single and double decker buses, and, if a conductor or driver did not report in of a morning, he had to crew the service. I never wanted to be an engine driver; my dream was to be at the wheel of a Guy Arab double decker.

In fact, my dad arranged it on many an occasion. At night, when the buses turned round near my grandmother's house and then prepared to head down the road a couple of bus-stops to our house, I'd be lifted on to the driver's lap to cover the journey in the closed cab. It was a sacking offence for the drivers, but they didn't seem to mind.

My father fueling a Leyland double decker in James' garage

The South Wales Transport AEC buses took us on shopping trips to Swansea from the terminus near the Derlwyn Arms. If we went to Swansea, it was a 'big shop', something like a suit for a funeral, otherwise we'd go on the lesser journey to Ammanford.

Buses took us to the grammar school every day. I remember one tipping over two miles from the school. No-one was hurt but it blocked the road, so in the following buses we all had a choice: a two-mile walk to school or five miles home. We went home.

Buses took us to Barry or Porthcawl on the Club and Institute annual trip, when over a dozen of them lined up to take the woman and children to the seaside. No-one wanted to go on Twm from Garnant's bus. He was a slow driver, always the last to get to the sea. On the journey I swear the bus, a 29-seater Bedford, was never further than two feet from the hedge or pavement. You could pick daisies as you went.

Once a year, on our holiday, an Ebsworth double decker would take us, as a family, from Carmarthen to Tenby to stay with my grandparents for week. I was allowed to stand all the way, grabbing the rail at the front window upstairs so that I could be first to see the sea and shout "I can see Caldey Island look... over there Mam... over there!"

Gwaun Cae Gurwen was Check Point Charlie. You could get a bus there for anywhere in the world, with connections. Western Welsh passed through the village, as did the United Welsh, the South Wales Transport and James of course. The James buses had a green light hanging in the front so that you could identify them in a fog and the older double deckers had wooden slatted seats, so coal-miners in dirty clothes could sit on them with no bother.

Pitted baths were not built in coal-mines then, and some bus companies were fussy, Miners coming off shift were not encouraged on the Western Welsh buses, which served the longer routes to Carmarthen and Cardiff, because they were 'posh' with plush seats.

When the sap was on the move, buses took us home from dances. They left the Regal Ballroom at a quarter to 12 and there was no point getting interested in a girl who was taking a bus in the opposite direction to you. After the question, "Do you want to dance?", the next one was "Where do you live then?" If she said Tycroes, there was no point having a second dance because that village was not on the Amman Valley route. If she was from Glanamman, Garnant, G.C.G., Brynaman or Cwmllynfell, that was a different kettle of fish. Things could develop as it were.

Oh yes, buses and me, we've been very close. Some years ago, on a New Year's resolution whim, I decided I wanted a bus licence. I got it too, although learning in Skewen was hell. It's all uphill, with double parking everywhere. I even bought half a bus - don't ask which half - an ex-Aberdare Council 1973 Bristol RE single decker. I haven't got it now, but I look back on it fondly.

Me and my son Richard leaning on my bus, the ex-Aberdare Council 1973 Bristol RE.

I even wanted to have a series on television called Return Ticket. Someone could hire the bus, or coach, fill it with their friends and re-visit somewhere that held fond memories for them. I'd drive it of course. Now wouldn't that be something?

Roy

Roy Noble is bringing his famous storytelling skills to a computer near you as part of the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú First Click Campaign - aimed at encouraging people to take their first steps to getting online. If you know somebody who needs help to get online, call the free Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú First Click advice line on 08000 150950.

On 11 December 1282, a small skirmish took place close to the River Irfon in Mid Wales.

The battle - if it can be called that - was fought between a party of mounted English knights and a group of unarmoured Welshmen who were clearly travelling on foot - an uneven contest if ever there was one.

The significance of the event, however, is not that the battle took place but in the simple fact that one of the casualties of that minor and otherwise insignificant skirmish was none other than Llywelyn, the last true Prince of Wales.

Llywelyn was the grandson of Llywelyn the Great, the man who had effectively kept the English kings out of Wales for many years and greatly reduced their influence in the Principality.

But by the time his grandson achieved manhood things had changed. The young prince inherited a country that was now under constant threat from its more powerful eastern neighbours.

Wales was divided, the ensuring that Llywelyn's native Gwynedd was partitioned between him and Dafydd, his younger brother. Such partition was, the English kings reasoned, the only way to keep the Welsh nation weak and so protect their vulnerable eastern border.

It was a situation that could not last. Chafing against such humiliation, Llywelyn first fought against his brother, then imprisoned him and finally declared himself sole ruler of Gwynedd, in direct contradiction to the Treaty of Woodstock.

The punitive and harsh treaty was something that Llywelyn and most Welshmen considered to have been unfairly forced upon them.

With Henry preoccupied with his warlike and rebellious Barons, in 1258 Llywelyn demanded that the lords of Deheubarth and Powys should swear allegiance to him rather than Henry, the English king, and formally adopted the title "Prince of Wales".

He then set off on a series of campaigns against the English and quickly regained lost territory in Gwynedd and Powys. He even found time to take Eleanor, daughter of , as his bride, sealing a powerful alliance with the English baron. As if bowing to the inevitable, formally recognised Llywelyn as Prince of Wales at the Treaty of Montgomery in 1267.

Although he was still expected to pay homage to the English king, Llywelyn had effectively created the Principality of Wales and for a few years an uneasy peace descended across the land.

When Henry died in 1272 he was succeeded by Edward I and for some reason - something that has never been made totally clear - Llywelyn refused to attend his coronation. On five occasions he was summoned to pay homage to the new king and each time he refused.

It was a deliberate snub that could, eventually, have only one result. In 1277 Edward invaded. The winter of 1277 was a hard one and Llywelyn's forces were pushed steadily back by the powerful war machine of Edward's England.

Soon Llywelyn was forced to ask for peace and by the terms of the Treaty of Aberconwy he was deprived of all his lands except those in Gwynedd that lay to the west of the River Conwy.

The next four years passed peacefully enough but Llywelyn was seething with resentment and, like the rest of his countrymen, was determined to end English influence in Wales. When, in March 1282, his brother Dafydd rebelled against Edward, a series of linked revolts broke out all across the country.

Llywelyn had little choice other than to join a rebellion that was clearly going to be a fight to the death.

To begin with the Welsh did well. Edward's army was soundly defeated at Llandeilo and an English seaborne force was destroyed in the Menai Straits.

Yet Llywelyn knew that the longer the war went on the more the balance of power would shift to Edward. He knew he needed more troops.

He went south to recruit soldiers and just outside Builth Wells learned of the presence of a large English force in the area. It was while he and a few followers were reconnoitering the English positions that he was surprised and attacked on the morning of 11 December.

The English knights charged the defenceless Welsh Prince and his party. Llywelyn had no option other than to make a run for cover but in the confusion Stephen de Francton plunged his lance into the unarmoured body of what he then thought was a simple Welsh foot soldier.

Only when he returned to the scene of the skirmish later in the day did de Francton realize he had killed the Welsh Prince and war leader.

Llywelyn's head was cut from his body and sent to London where the grisly object was displayed at the Tower for many months, a warning to all those who dared to defy the might of Edward.

In the wake of Llywelyn's death the rebellion quickly fell apart and within a few years Edward had mercilessly ground Wales beneath his iron foot.

The last Prince of Wales remains, now, as a symbol of a proud and determined people - and of the fight for freedom against oppression, from wherever it might come.

A heritage and tourism summit was held at the historic in Conwy yesterday.

The summit, organised by the and (the historic environment service of the Welsh Assembly Government) and involving European experts, discussed ways in which promoting Welsh heritage could boost Welsh tourism.

A recent report, Valuing the Welsh Historic Environment, calculated that heritage contributes £100 million each year to the Welsh Economy.

Recruiting tour guides and creating online Welsh history guides have already been identified by tourism organisation as ways of using Welsh history to increase revenue.

Marilyn Lewis, the director of Cadw, also said that there are opportunities to use the exciting and potent tales of Princess of Gwynedd to boost Welsh tourism, and that these stories should be more widely told.

in the Daily Post.

Read about the Princess of Gwynedd - Llewelyn the Great and his grandson Llewelyn on the Wales history website.

Yesterday morning on the Jamie and Louise Show on Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Radio Wales, history blogger Phil Carradice spoke to Lisa Rogers about past winters in Wales, and in particular the great snows of 1947, 1962 and 1963.

Power cuts, frozen rivers and the joys of sledging on silage bags (pre health and safety) were also discussed.

You can listen to the radio interview here:

In this second part, Lisa and Phil share listeners' memories of past winters in Wales.

Read Phil's original blog article. You can also keep up with the and travel news on the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú website.

As part of the current Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Hands on History campaign, Radio Wales has been examining the state of the high street in Wales.

You can view details on Radio Wales' programmes in a previous Wales History blog.

In 1999, broadcaster and journalist, Jaci Stephen visited three very different high streets in Wales in a series called Shop Talk. You can view a clip from each of the programmes below.

Clifton Street,Cardiff: Jaci Stephen visits a charity shop.

Machynlleth: Jaci meets the people who attend this weekly market.

Cowbridge: Jaci Stephen meets some ladies who love shopping in the town.

Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú News has a fascinating article on how the body of a dead Welsh tramp was shipped to southern Spain as part of an audacious British plot to fool the Nazis during World War Two.

The plot, known as Operation Mincemeat was the brainchild of James Bond creator Ian Flemming.

Welshman Glyndwr Michael was jobless and homeless in the winter of 1943. He ended his life, is an abandoned warehouse in Kings Cross in London by taking rat poison.

The Welshman's body was painstakingly transformed into the corpse of a ficticious Captain William Martin - a character created by intelligence officers.

The tramp's body was then floated near the port of Heulva. In his pockets, an identity card, ticket stubs and momentos from a fiancee. Also chained to his wrists was a briefcase containing a letter marked "PERSONAL AND MOST SECRET", identifying Greece for invasion by Allied Forces.

Read more on the outcome of this extraordinary plot on the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú TV blog.

You can see the documentary Operation Mincemeat on Sunday 5 December, 9pm on Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Two.

On Monday 6 December, Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Radio Wales will be looking at how high streets around the country are coping with a combination of the credit crunch and fierce competition from rivals and it's a pretty mixed picture.

The programmes are all part of a two-year Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Campaign, called Hands on History, which has been bringing the history of local high streets to life.

Good Morning Wales, 6am

Business correspondent Nick Servini reports live from Newport which has been badly hit by shop closures. Plans to redevelop John Frost Square in the town centre are on hold because of the recession.

But there is a different picture in Abergavenny , where Susi Crnoch, who is a local businesswoman and President of the Abergavenny Chamber of Trade, gives listeners a guided tour of shops in the market town, including a family run department store which is 100 years old.

Abergavenny. Picture by Neville Hall.

Jamie and Louise, 9am

Presenter Lisa Rogers reports live from Agincourt Square in Monmouth, the town where she and her family shopped when she was growing up.

Lisa will be chatting to traders, including a former Mayor, Phillip Munday, who runs the last independent fruit and veg shop in the town. She'll be reminiscing about the shops she remembers as a child and looking what is on offer now.

Jamie Owen has also been out on the high streets of Llandrindod Wells, Pembroke Dock and Cardiff, to see what's going on there.

You can call the programme and tell people what the state of the high street is in your town.

Good Evening Wales, 5pm

Stephen Fairclough reports from Bridgend , where businesses in the traditional high street are struggling and the high number of empty shops is a cause for concern.

Business correspondent Nick ServinI presents Wales at Work

Wales At Work, 7pm

Business editor Nick Servini is taking a look at the retail trade. A quick snapshot of four Welsh town high streets, including Wrexham, Fishguard, Aberdare and Newport, and he'll be examining how the future is looking with the impending VAT increase in the New Year.

You can visit the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú history website to find out hands on activities near you or to find out how you can research the history of your high street.

You can also share your 'now & then' photos of your local high streets.