We will not be blown over
I LIVE in a small terraced house that was young at the start of the last century. It is a house surrounded by stillness, the only sound the tumbling waters of the Corrwg as it passes close by.
Directly in front of my house across the river rises a steep mountain with allotments at its feet, and ferns and grasses above; stonewalls hedge in sheep with their bouncing lambs in the springtime. The only shadows cast are from broad-shouldered oaks and buzzards that wheel on the thermals above.
All that is about to change; four incredibly high turbines, naked concrete and steel goliaths in all their soulless beauty, are intended for that mountain, designed to beat the wind in an endless exasperating whine.
Perhaps I would sacrifice this part of the planet to save another if I thought it would make a difference, but it won’t; the energy produced will be so small that wearing a jumper would probably do more good.
This is not a green issue; it is about ruthless opportunists riding roughshod over a community for money, an awful lot of money.
But they made a mistake when they chose Glyncorrwg, thinking we will roll over like a sheepdog. We won’t. And never will.
Norton Terrace, Glyncorrwg, Port Talbot.
Neath Port Talbot Guardian