Roath Feast, Pickling Peppers

I could never say 

"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers;
A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked;
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?"

Can you? I could never utter that bizarre combination of words and intertwined sounds of P's, that strange school yard mixture of rhyme and jest that every person possible in the English speaking world (or in the English speaking school yard at least) have overheard and attempted to get there lips and tongue around and through the pickling perplexing saying at some point.  It was this long line of P words I was trying to recall as I walked towards G39 for the Roath Feast Pickling event.

   

 As I rounded the corner I was greeted by the sight of a long table cramed full of pickling pots and picked pickling jars in various states of preparation, preservation and in the general pickling process (Yes I am attempting to place and posit every possible P word I can into this pictorial pickling post, which is particularly pleasant). 

The concept of "Roath Feast" is rather interesting and refreshingly long in its design. The idea is to run a series of workshops throughout the year, each featuring a different food preparation skill. Sharing and learning new skills and techniques and then at the end of the project to bring these skills together in a community feast. 

 The first Roath feast workshop themed around that homely and exquisite smelling creation "Bread making". This was followed by the second activity "Pickling". Now I must say I haven't pickled a thing in a very, very long time. What's more I don't know many who has pickled anything or even has self pickled items in their homes. Like a lot of things Pickling is an activity that we, possibly unsurprisingly, seem to be losing. We live in a world of global consumption. The global market of commodities dictate the creation and shipping from far and wide to sit and gather dust on our shelves. Our supermarkets are littered with items from all over the world, picked and harvested a few days before in far flung parts. We enjoy strawberries in winter, oranges, lemons and banana's from distant counties we can't even place on maps and even all year round blooming flowers from the forever sun light filled mass green houses of Holland.  The seasonal and dictational factors of nature have been defeated and ignored by the global Capitalist economic system of food consumption. 

 I had evidence of this many years ago whilst working in a supermarket, one day in the midst of the winter months, when the snow outside was reminiscent of a Dickensian tale, I was told to head down to the frozen fridges and refill the ice. 

At first I thought they were joking "fill the ice?" I said "there's a snowmen and children having snow ball fights outside the window. The nation has grown to its traditional, panicky, no traveling halt at the sight of a wisp of snow. The camping shop across the street have a big sale sign up saying "now is the winter of our discount tent". The last time I checked we are in Pontypridd not ice filled frozen Siberia". 

"I know" they replied "the snowy weather conditions outside need no explaining but yet we have run out and have a new delivery in".  

"Who the flipping heck buys ice in a blizzard? A chap passed me on ski's this morning. Folks in white hoodies are blending into the snow and becoming invisible, if it wasn't for the gold bling around their neck's you'd walk right into them" I implored 

"We know its probably the same muppets who are panic buying bread, soup and beans" the reply came. 

"Fair enough" I said and went to refill the ice. 

The point is we now live in a society that in the partway through winter, in the middle of an unfavourable snow storm, you can still buy a bag of ice from the supermarket. What's more those bags of ice will be refilled and restocked with quite mind blowing efficiency during the day. That shop job proved to me that short of the collapse of western civilisation as we know it by some sort of freak occurrence, nothing is going to stop the supermarket lorry from getting through in the morning with new items for the shelves. We live in a world where food is sadly no longer needed to be stored. For the first time in human history society is now more about waiting for the used by date to expire than about careful planning and saving of foods. 

 life is more about consumption then preserving which I'm not commenting on as a good or a bad thing but it is a thing. What's more it's something we see in every aspect of society. We now have instant communication, quickening travel around the globe, mass entertainment at a push of a button so why not all year round food too.

 I think that's what I like about Roath Feast and its design. The challenge to this consumer culture. The idea of planning and waiting for a meal a year away. The trials and situations this creates will inevitably be a far more interesting experience than just popping to the shops for a pizza (which I do quite a lot to be honest). But the challenge and the idea of planning a meal a year off, I recall a line from Kipling from his fantastic poem "If".

"If you can wait

And not be tired by waiting"

I like the concept of Roath Feast, to wait, and not being tired by it but welcoming and embracing it as part of the experience. It's something I am looking forward to.  Best wishes Dai

Insomnia

The thing we didn’t know when we showed up at the ‘Insomnia’ event in G39 Gallery is that we were meant to email beforehand and book. The space, as it turned out, was quite small and could only accommodate a certain number of people. The organisers, however, welcomed us anyway, and it turned out alright - but we did feel bad for showing up unannounced!

The first part of the evening centred around ‘zine’- making. We had never really heard about zines before, so the little guide that Megan (who works at the gallery) provided us with came in very handy. Zine-making involved looking through the various art books available in the library, photocopying whatever pages, texts or images inspired us, and creating a small ‘book’ out of folded A3 paper. 

It was a lot of fun. Richard and I, being creative writers, enjoyed the process of creating something new out of the resources we had, and I even included some blackout poetry in my Zine. I would say we spent about two hours making them, and I was so involved in the project that I hardly felt sleepy at all!

We also read aloud some of The Remains of The Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro. It made for a nice midnight read. Then came the midnight meal, a delicious vegetable stew sprinkled with cheese. Coffee, tea, cakes and chocolate were also available through the night to keep us from going to sleep. 

After our late-night dinner, the next activity was a showing of Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Despite some difficulties setting up the projector, I really enjoyed the film - which I had actually never seen before. Another classic off my list! 

The only setback was that the length of the film delayed our sunrise walk to Roath Park. By the time we left the gallery, the sun had already started rising. But we did get to watch the sky change colours from the streets of Cardiff, and to smell the fresh 5am scent of the first day of summer - which, to me, was more than enough.

by Julie Primon and Richard Axtell

Creative Workshops II (Screen Printing)

Do I know anything about screen printing? No. Have I ever thought about making my own tote bag? Never. Did I let either of these things stop me when a lovely lady asked me if I wanted to make a personalised tote bag? Of course I didn’t.

Screen printing, it turns out, is a rather simple process. I don’t know the amount of effort/resources that went into making the screens (which were ready when we arrived) but the printing itself was quick and painless. We got to choose a pattern and/or a word for our tote bags. Among the words were ‘solstice’, ‘dusk’ and ‘twilight’, and among the patterns a large bird or a group of three smaller ones. We were then shown how to stick the pattern to the screen, place our bags underneath, and drag down a blade so that the paint would spread evenly over the space left by the pattern. The result was a clean, sharp red word and pattern printed over the bag. We wrote our names on the bags before laying them out to dry, but when it started drizzling we had to run outside and bring all the bags in! 

In the end, we took them home before the paint had dried. We were very careful not to smear it, and after about an hour of hanging on a clothes line in the sun and wind, the bags were all dry and ready to use. They look amazing and very professional - so much so that we’re wondering if we should repeat the experience at home!

 by Julie Primon

Creative Workshops I (Bread Making)

When I make food in the kitchen, things have a tendency to catch fire, explode, stuff like that. The result generally involves a lot of screaming, running around, and smoke alarms waking up the neighbours for miles around. So you can understand why I was a bit apprehensive and nervously eyeing up all the combustible materials in the room as I approached the bread making table at Made in Roath’s Solstice festival at the Trinity Centre.

Luckily, the warmest things at the table were the smiles of other festival goers and of George, the man in charge of bread-based activities. He began by handing out the recipe on a small piece of paper, with the promise that we can make more at home if we want (definitely) and then set about showing us the different items we would need on our bread making quest. I’ve always thought of bread as being the pinnacle of baking mastery, but it turns out that even strange people who wander in off the street (aka me) can make it with ease with George’s guiding hand.

The result? Well, the fact that I just ate two slices of my loaf and would happily eat it until there was nothing left, should speak for itself. Along with my new bread baking skills (which I will be bragging about to everyone I know, I assure you), I had a great time at the festival where there was plenty to do. I am definitely going to keep Made in Roath on my radar if I ever feel like doing something different with my day!

by Richard Axtell

The Cardiff Alms Project - Writing Your City

 In a small room in Cathays library, we remembered a community hall in a town in Newfoundland, an independent London bookshop that lost its soul to profit, and a school that was run by the kids. We sneaked into an old cinema the night before it was knocked down, and wished we had taken a look around an unusual Cardiff shop before it closed. Writing eulogies for the torn-down or transformed took us back with a mix of the nostalgic and the comic, and made us think about the places that define us. 

Leading the workshop was Jodie Kay Ashdown, a Cardiff-based writer and creative writing practitioner. Jodie was friendly and supportive, helping us to reflect on our chosen places while also giving us space and time to write.

by Rebecca Lawn

Written Portraits

As we wandered into Adamsdown, and possibly got a little lost on our way to the Trinity centre, my fiancé and I were only expecting to participate in the Written Portraits workshop. Though we had the Solstice program with us, we had read it too quickly to notice that there were more than one activity happening at the Trinity centre. Imagine our surprise, then, when we came across the building and were welcomed by a smiling lady asking if we were there for the screen-printed tote bags!

Never ones to pass on an opportunity, we took part in everything we possibly could: from getting our portraits written to printing our own tote bags to making some delicious bread. 

The Written Portraits took place in a spacious, lovely room. The Trinity centre must have been a church at some point: it still looks the part with its wide stained-glass windows and high ceiling. We had our photos taken first, then sat in comfortable chairs for the ‘interview’ part. It was more of a conversation, really. Mark didn’t just ask us questions - he took an active part in the dialogue and made it very easy to share bits of our lives and experiences. Steve and Rebecca listened to us and took notes the whole time, while also listening and reacting to the things we said. The fifteen minutes went by very quickly! We were asked to write our emails down on a sheet of paper, and told we would receive our written portraits later. We’re certainly looking forward to reading them!      

   

by Julie Primon

Octopoet

 Betty once turned down a young Dylan Thomas when he tried to proposition her at a bar. “Pity about Dylan Thomas,” she said on stage, “I didn’t get to know the color of his pyjamas.”

Ms. Lane and the seven other poets were accompanied by enthusiastic host Mark Blayney. Ocotpoet is a staple Made in Roath event, a reading of poetry at which, as it says on the tin, “eight poets battle for your love.” Blayney was sure to point out at the very beginning of the evening, that there would be a mix of the very serious and the not so.  

First up was Christina Thatcher, who read a series of poems about the men in her life—father, brother and fiancé. All of which were personal and affecting. Dave Daggers, in a sort of denim pinstriped suit, accompanied with a binder that said “Poetry For Dummies”, delivered a series of comic poems and songs, ranging in topic from French women to suicide to a self-referential poem about poetry. Possibly my favourite poet of the night was Emily Blewitt. Her poetry was surreal and, as she said, “witchy.” She was enthralling to listen too, even when she wasn’t reading poetry but simply leafing through her collection and telling us anecdotes of how the next piece came about. The last poet before the interval was former physics and astronomy lecturer Mike Greenhough. A fitting description of Mike given his poetry and songs were at times otherworldly, though unlike physics, wholly entertaining. Mike was deadpan in his delivery of a series of comic poems and songs and the café at large found him hilarious. Mike finished his set with a reimagining of the James Bond theme song, in which the trop of villainous and seductive woman was played by an octopus. The piece was obviously called “Octopussy.” 

During the interval, which I used to buy another round of Coca-Cola (served in a glass with ice, of course), Adale (Ada Ragimov) treated the audience to a harp performance. It was lovely. Coincidentally, the following day I was scrolling through my Twitter feed and someone who had not been at the event had tweeted “Only in Roath will you see two people rolling a harp down the middle of the street at 11.30 pm.” 

The night picked back up with resident heart breaker, Betty Lane. Following the Dylan Thomas story, she read a series of poems, the highlight of which was a piece entitled “A Day in the Life of a Man and His Dog.” As you can expect it was about a man, his life and his dog. The central theme was the dog’s unwavering love and as a dog person, I thought it genius. Nicholas Whithead was next. He read a winter solstice poem, as it was the only solstice-related poem he had. He finished with a tribute in the form of a poem to Wordsworth, in which Wordsworth, known nature lover, had an off day. There was a lot of nature and many expletives, which resulted in many laughs. Accomplished short story writer and poet, Susie Wild then took to the mic. She read poems about the summertime and beaches and smiles. One of which was entitled “Crooked Smile”. A sort of coming-of-age poem that at is crux was about self-confidence. A theme with which the last act of the night continued. Mab Jones and Johnny Jiles performed as a duo. They alternated poems, filled the space between with jokes and read pieces about feeling confident in your body, and in your mind. 

By Jamie Gillingham