Yep, with a surname like Jones there had to be a welsh connection somewhere, though most people are surprised that I’m the welsh one in the family.
I go by the ‘born and bred’ rule for nationality which makes me Welsh, the other half Scottish, and I guess makes both children English. That’ll make watching the Six Nations interesting when they’re older. But that didn’t stop G proclaiming to me earlier “it’s Welsh day, and I’m welsher and welsher than you are!”.
St David’s Day seems to be the one piece of Welsh culture I can introduce to my children, and i remember being outraged a year or two ago when
G’s nursery were celebrating World Book Day on March 1st without any mention of St David. After I dropped it into conversation none too subtly with the nursery staff they sent G home with a daffodil picture they’d got her to draw for me, so I soon forgave them the oversight.
I have really fond memories of St David’s Day when growing up. It really marks the coming of spring to me, despite the fact we’re seemingly that bit too far north for the daffodils in our garden to bloom in time. And the eisteddfod tradition is probably one of the things that encouraged my love of crafts.
So today was always going to be ‘Welsh day’ in our household. Along with making traditional welsh cakes (from the same Bero book recipe I used as a child), it was also the opportunity to dress both children up and take photos ready to reveal when they bring their first boyfriends home, or at a suitably embarrassing future birthday party.
I figure taking and hoarding embarrassing photos is one of the perks of the job, and I may as well make the most of it while I can. After all, it won’t be long before they’re refusing to play along and telling me just how embarrassing I am to them.
As if I didn’t already know!