Cracking the Code

Scanning selectively through the back pages of the Sydney Morning Herald, waiting for my never perfect porridge to reach a mouth eligible temperature, is a well established part of my daily routine. The subsequent norm is to tuck into the day's rugby headlines, whilst heavily exhaling, an act that I believe will cool my mouth from a breakfast that is inevitably still too hot for consumption. On Monday morning there was a minor divergence, the literary intake was an Aussie Rules piece. The article focused on the plight of Brisbane Lions' coach, Justin Leppitsch. The previous day, Coach Leppitsch's Lions, had defeated the Essendon Bombers in a basement battle. A victory, which preserved, Leppitsch's employment or so the author reliably informed me.  Had the article gone on to analyse the technicalities of what makes a successful AFL coach, I would have ditched it. It didn't. Instead it took a far more compelling, macro level view, of the key performance indica...

'Hey, where you from?', the cliched opening gambit of one backpacker seeking to temporarily befriend another over a cold beer. As a Welshman, I know that in many instances my response will draw a blank face and a 'Ah, Cool. Where's that?'. Each time, I sigh internally, so as not to come across rude, before offering up a token 'next to England'. On reflection, Wales' notoriety level or lack of, probably says as much about what the principality is bringing to the global stage, as it does about the geographical awareness of my fellow traveller. This lack of global identity is not an issue for our Celtic brethren from Ireland and Scotland. They have many an export, synonymous with their nation that have become common place in global society. The fact is, Brains isn't Guinness, Penderyn isn't Glenmorangie or Jameson, and despite his statue in the middle of Corwen, Owain Glyndwr isn't William Wallace. But then again, Wallace was seven feet tal...