Personal

Daring to speak

I continue to be fascinated by Welsh.

Today I browsed the Welsh Bookshop in Aberystwyth. It's a small place, with little room to manoeuvre between the rows of books. Some of the books are in English (mainly books on Welsh folklore for the tourists), but the alphabet T-towels that line the walls clearly mark this Cymru territory. For the ten minutes I was in there I didn't hear a single word of my own language spoken.

I wanted to get to the back, to have a look at the maps. It was then I realised my Welsh doesn't extend to "excuse me"; if I opened my mouth I'd have been rumbled.

For the first time I felt like a foreigner in my own country. Even worse is the thought that I'd be shunned if I was outed. I know there are many in Wales who'd have things this way, but it made me feel very uncomfortable.