In Dylan Thomas’ town, 1986
I wrote this piece back in 1986 or 1987, after a visit to the British Isles with my friend and fellow journalist Scott Bevan. It's obviously out of date, and many of the observations I made at the time are probably unfair or incorrect. But it brings back nice memories, so I'll place it here. It happened, like all the best things, completely by chance. We had been driving almost all day; from the English-Welsh border town of Chepstow, along some of the most bewildering motorways in all Britain, through shirtsleeved Cardiff, past the tragic industrial…