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Latest
Update -September
2005
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Clive
Woosnam on Welsh Poetry and Welsh Music in New South Wales
by Tim Dixon
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The first time I spoke with Clive Woosnam
was on the telephone. It was a cold Sunday evening in the middle
of winter, and the Vice President of the Dylan Thomas Society of
Australia had just returned from Burrawang in the Southern Highlands.
Earlier that day he had been on 'The Outing'-
an annual event of the Dylan Thomas Society inspired by the poet's
story of the same name. 'This year, the theme was Christmas in
July.' It was a wonderful experience for Woosnam who was able
to read out 'A Child's Christmas in Wales' with snowfall on the
ground outside.
As we arranged a time and place to meet, he
expertly took control, listing possibilities and making suggestions
in a methodical manner. When he later confirmed the details, he
gave me detailed directions, ensuring all was clear.
He is a well organised person and he needs
to be as Woosnam is also the President of the Sydney Welsh Choir
and is heavily involved in Newington College where he has taught
for thirty-five years and now works in the Archives and with the
Alumni Program.
It was his ability to coordinate and plan that
led to his initial involvement in the executive of the Sydney
Welsh Choir. In preparation for its first international tour in
1990 an organising committee was formed to raise funds. Woosnam
joined it in 1989. The next year, he was a member of the main
committee and by 1991 he had become the president of the choir,
just three years after joining.
Having been president of the Dylan Thomas Society
last year, he decided to take a break from it this year. As he
says this, though, he is quick to add that he "may well be"
returning to the position in the future. In fact, he expresses
that he would happy to do so after finishing full time work at
the end of the year. It's hard to imagine him idling his time
away.
After completing his studies and teaching for
three years at Sloane Grammar School, Chelsea, Clive Woosnam first
arrived in Australia in 1964 to work for the NSW Department of
Education. He taught at the Correspondence School and was involved
in preparing the Geography course for the new HSC brought in under
the Wyndham Scheme. In Sydney he met his wife, Helen, when he
was broadcasting at the ABC's 2FC radio station.
He felt it was appropriate for someone in his
profession to travel, in order to experience and discover for
himself what it was that he taught in the classroom. In 1967,
he and Helen left for Canada. After staying in Wales and England,
they returned to Sydney in 1970 and he began teaching at Newington.
After many years at the blackboard, he does
not come across as stern or overbearing, but there is a clear
purpose to the way he talks which demands respect. His speech
is thoughtful and well delivered. As he retells an event or explains
something, he is concise but thorough; direct but always polite.
His rich bass voice, which loves to sing, rarely betrays his emotions
but when he recalls a particularly meaningful thought or memory,
his excitement shows. His pitch rises and his pace quickens. His
enthusiasm becomes infectious.
One such memory is the choir's visit to Canterbury
Cathedral in the last international tour, two years ago. They
had planned to do a short, a capella performance around the altar
for the people passing by. The event wasn't going to be publicized,
but. to their surprise they found a number of people who had gathered
to hear them.
Woosnam chuckles as he remembers what happened.
"When we arrived we were amazed to discover that there were
a lot of people who had come specially just to see us," he
recalls. "They had found we were coming and we were welcomed
by the chaplain to the Archbishop who was an Australian and who
actually had been the vicar to a couple of people in our choir."
"So he introduced us and at the end of
the singing we had a little Welsh cleric, who was ninety-two years
old and still lived in the Cathedral precinct, who thanked us
in Welsh.It was great because we really weren't expecting it.
We just thought we were going to be standing there singing while
people walked past and it wasn't like that at all."
As Clive Woosnam reflects on his love for singing,
he feels it is important to acknowledge his father. He was gifted
musically, and like his son, was a highly capable person. He conducted
choirs and brass bands and played wind instruments and the organ
as well as singing. Unfortunately, like many other miners he suffered
a painful death from pneumiconiosis.
Clive inherited his fathers passion for music
and was captivated by the voice, both spoken and sung, from a
young age. As a boy, he was a keen member of the Mid-Rhondda Children's
Choir which won the 1950 National Eisteddfod, held in Caerphilly.
"I really enjoyed my time in the choir but then [after that]
I didn't really sing much," he said.
When he went to grammar school, the emphasis
was firmly placed on academic pursuits. He regrets the fact that
there was little in the way of music or drama. While he worked
towards his degree in Geography with Honours at the University
College London he joined singing in the London University Choir,
with whom he sang in St Paul's Cathedral, but then, once again,
he stopped singing regularly.
"When I came to Newington I got so involved
in all the things there are here that I really didn't have ."
He paused to correct himself, "I thought I had no time to
do anything." He pauses again, thinking, and, this time with
more expression and excitement, like someone sharing a secret,
he says, "But it's surprising how it works because you can
usually fit a lot more into your life than you know when you really
try."
Being part of the choir has been a rewarding
experience. "I found myself at home in it very, very fast,"
he said. "In fact, after the first practice I went to, when
I got home I couldn't go to sleep. I was just singing. My feet
were kicking in bed."
The only other time Woosnam shows such animation
is when he talks about Dylan Thomas. As he tells how he became
enchanted by the enigmatic poet from Swansea, he leans forward
in his seat with his legs crossed and occasionally pauses to think
and rub his forehead.
"The thing that appealed to me when I
was a boy was listening to Dylan read poetry, because he was quite
often on the radio reading his own and other people's poetry.
At the time, when most of the poetry readers were 'stiff upper
lip Englishmen,' even though Dylan spoke with an English accent,
he had the Welsh pulpit style. I'm not terribly fond of it nowadays
but as a boy I liked it and he appealed to me me as a reader to
begin with."
Thomas' humorous short stories have always
been special to Woosnam but the intricacy of some of his poems
perplex him. "I find some of his poems willfully obscure.
I find some of his poems just perculiarly morbid without any saving
grace," he said. "There are many poems I try to grapple
with."
He holds a great deal of admiration for Thomas,
fascinated by his attention to detail. He explains the poem, Prologue,
with appreciation and care. The 104 line poem, he tells me, has
a most peculiar rhyme pattern. The first line rhymes with the
last, the second with the second last and the pattern continues
so that the middle two lines rhyme with each other. "Of course,
when you read the poem you've got no idea that anything rhymes,"
he said. "There is no concept of rhyme at all. It was only
after he told someone later on that people realised it was actually
happening."
"He did obscure things which were for
his own amusement, for his own sense of achievement, which no-one
out there knew about. He was incredibly painstaking and time consuming
with his poetry," he said. Thomas' amazing attention to detail
and the planning and purpose which he put into his work strike
a chord with Clive Woosnam.
As Woosnam continues to tell stories
of Dylan Thomas, the hour advances. Almost abruptly, he stops
and says, "Anyway, I'd better get off and get some work done,
I think."
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