Yn Ebrill 2015, cynhaliodd y bardd Patrick Jones nifer o weithdai yn Nhŷ Hapus, Y Barri, o dan y teitl ‘Atgofion Cerddorol’. Menter unigryw gan Cymdeithas Alzheimer Cymru yw Tŷ Hapus. Sefydlwyd y fenter i ddarparu gofal a chefnogaeth i bobl ifanc â dementia, gan gynnig lle diogel a thawel ble mae pobl â dementia a’u teuluoedd yn gallu cael paned a sgwrs, chwarae gemau bwrdd, darllen papurau newydd ac ymlacio. Hefyd mae Tŷ Hapus yn trefnu nifer o weithgareddau i’w hymwelwyr.
‘Atgofion Cerddorol’ oedd yr ail sesiwn i Patrick gynnal yn Nhŷ Hapus yn dilyn prosiect llwyddiannus yn 2014. Y tro hwn, rhoddwyd bwyslais ar hoff ganeuon a bandiau – fel The Beatles a steil Motown – a straeon amrywiol o fynd i ‘gigs’ gwahanol.
Datblygodd chwe chyfranogwr â’u teuluoedd nifer o gerddi, a chafodd un ohonynt – ‘In My Pocket’ – ei osod i gerddoriaeth.
IN MY POCKET
In my pocket
is a piece of coal.
I hold it tight,
I see the coal fire,
my father making it up before work,
giving us heat and light.
In my pocket
is the strike of 1984,
this was our civil war,
my mam with a pram
full of coal,
pushing up our street
to warm our tired souls.
In my pocket,
the sound of the coal tipping,
Barry Docks
held in my mind
like a newspaper clipping.
In my pocket
is the best ever toast
butter dripping
its the simple things we remember the most
IN MY POCKET
MY MEMORIES ARE STILL ALIVE
IN MY POCKET
NOT READY TO SAY GOODBYE
IN MY POCKET
COME, WALK WITH ME SIDE BY SIDE
And in my pocket
is The Beatles’ ‘She loves you’
playing at my Nanna’s on the radiogram in Splott,
where she’d give you all that’s she’s got
‘she loves you’ so true.
In my pocket,
my memory is dancing
All night in Wigan
or at The New Moon Club The Hayes,
girls drinking Newcastle Brown Ale,
and in our pockets,
the trip to Barry Island
seemed like a million miles away,
seemed like the sun shone like diamonds.
I remember how the mothers
would make a circle with their deckchairs,
and all the kids would play safely there,
and we could either have Rock or Candyfloss
before we left,
MMMM I can still smell that salty air.
In my pocket
I carry them carefully
the ghost train, log flume,
banana boats,
pop and crisps at The Mermaid Hotel.
When I get lonely,
the sadness it dispels.
I see them all now,
all the people and places like silk next to skin.
In my pocket
waiting for my dad’s ship to come in
IN MY POCKET
MY MEMORIES ARE STILL ALIVE
IN MY POCKET
NOT READY TO SAY GOODBYE
IN MY POCKET
COME, WALK WITH ME SIDE BY SIDE
By Annie, Lynne, Julia, Alison and Michael
A BELL RINGS
Makes me think of Dr Cameron- Sunday night – watching TV,
the end of playtime – back to sums,
the sound of school,
a sad but happy sound.
It reminds me of Uncle Keith.
He was ill and was sleeping downstairs
and used to ring a bell if he needed
anything
and used to wind us up with his bell!
The sound reminds me of
the Ice Cream Van in Porth,
and as I had 4 brothers
I had to run fast to get there first
threepence each.
Happy times
listening out for those ice cream chimes!
It could be church
or being naughty in school
or
London bells ringing
oranges and lemons say the bells of Saint Clements.
Like a school clock
or
Chris,
does it remind you of Barry Docks?
CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
Cold snow smog,
Abercwmboi or London,
a memory or a dream?
The best ever present from Grandad,
a homemade Dalek
brought on top of his car.
Boy if you could have seen my face beam.
Christmas time.
We had 8 children,
my mum cooked
gave us the best she could,
she was one in a billion.
My father took us
to Carrefour in a van,
massive foodshop but it would all disappear
before the holidays even began.
A favourite present was a pair of earrings.
My Dad was a merchant seaman
and had three daughters.
He would come home back from Japan
and the best present ever
walking dolls as tall as us
a memory that’ll stay forever.
Christmas meant monopoly.
We always knew the big day was near,
the club was closed
so my dad would bring
Flagons of Brains beer,
and we’d bring the kitchen table
into the dining room
and play monopoly, (oh dear….what doom),
how I tried to
file for bankruptcy it went on and on,
long after the snow had gone.
Best ever present a red and white bobble hat,
my mam had knitted it with love,
such an endeavour
and I,
I wore it forever.
WORDS
The smell of the chippy
as kids,
gravy,
happy memories.
The smell of my garden
in Summer
with the children.
Always loved the smell of perfume,
Chanel,
when I worked for British Coal.
The smell of a new baby-
pure
like a fresh start.
PLACES
Solva, I grew up there.
I remember the beach
going crabbing in the rockpools
A special place for me
was Port Talbot.
I worked there for British Coal,
had a marvelous time,
until Margaret Thatcher came along!
My beach hut off the Isle of Wight,
with the children playing on the beach,
happy memories,
going to France for our holidays
drinking wine driving and eating bread and cheese
lovely times.
TO STAND and STARE
(after listening to ‘Leisure’ by W. H. DAVIES)
To watch the birds
fascinating as they are
so small
gathering their nuts and
twigs for their nests
it is as if they are
looking
and thinking
“Mm, I’ll have that one”.
I like to sit down
and wait.
Love the garden too
full of things to see.
Love to watch the water crashing on rocks
craggy shorelines
wild weather.
The sea,
calm,
gently rippling.
