The reason why the Welsh uplands have been targeted for so much wind farm development is straightforward.  It is the policy of the Welsh Government (“WG”) to encourage onshore wind farm development in the so-called “strategic search areas” identified by its planning document, Technical Advice Note 8 (“TAN 8”).

Those strategic search areas, in many parts of  Wales, coincide with Forestry Commission land, which is owned by the WG itself.  Thus, an application for consent to the construction a large wind farm to be sited in the Clocaenog forest, near Ruthin, is expected to be made in the near future, and a large area of forestry land in Mid Wales is also the subject of similar applications.

Large-scale wind farm development applications are considered by the Infrastructure Planning Commission (“IPC”), an independent body set up under the last Labour Government.  The IPC considers all applications in the light of National Policy Statements and other Government policy at all levels. 

In Wales, TAN 8 is an important element of Government policy that must be considered by the IPC.  Given that TAN 8 sets out a presumption in favour of wind farm development in the strategic search areas, it is hardly surprising that developers have sought to site new wind farms in rural Wales. 

Indeed, for so long as TAN 8 remains in its present form, it is very likely that further applications will be made, until such time as the WG’s target of 1.7GW achieved through renewable generation in the strategic search areas is hit.  That is more than four times the present installed capacity.

A few weeks after the protests in Cardiff, the First Minister, Carwyn Jones, said he believed the level of wind farm development in Montgomeryshire was “unacceptable in view of its wider impacts on the local area”.  However, since he made that statement, the WG has not changed the presumptions set out in TAN 8. 

The fact is that until such time as the WG addresses the issue of TAN 8, further applications for wind farm consents will inevitably be made.  The statement made by the First Minister will be of no force.

British Government policy is to renew and restore the electricity generating capacity that this country needs, which was neglected under the last Labour Government.  All consent applications will be dealt with efficiently and impartially by the IPC, and by reference to existing Government policy, whether made at Westminster or Cardiff Bay. 

The position, therefore, is clear.  If the Welsh Government really is concerned about wind farm proliferation, it should amend TAN 8.  If it does not do so, it must expect further applications to be made

Notwithstanding, I do like cars and in my constituency town of Ruthin one day last summer, I saw a car that was – to my wholly subjective eye – utterly beautiful.  It was a 2003 Peugeot 406 coupé, a model that had previously, inexplicably, escaped my notice.  

I spent several minutes walking around it, admiring the purity and elegant simplicity of its lines.  It was, according to a discreet badge low on its flank, a product of Farina, the Italian design house responsible for some of the most exciting models of such exotic marques as Ferrari, Maserati and Alfa Romeo, as well the more interesting offerings of such home-grown names as Morris and Austin in pre-British Leyland days.   It was just a mass-produced car, but it was gorgeous.

That’s the thing about cars: uniquely among machines, they have the capacity to inspire, sometimes in equal measure, love and loathing, frustration and adoration.  They are not just bits of metal; they are extensions of ourselves.  When we are on the move, they become our homes.  We personalise them, spending hundreds of pounds on accessories. We cosset them when we are still in love with them and we take it personally when they let us down. 

 We never feel that way about, for example, our dishwashers.

For most of us, cars are our second-biggest purchase.  A big chunk of our income goes into buying, running and maintaining them.  So we need to be sure that they are as reliable and economical as possible.   While few of us are so naïve or optimistic as to think that we can make money on a car, we also need to be assured that the “residuals” are acceptable.

Importantly, too, we need to be certain that they are as safe as they can be, because their principal function is to convey the perishable human frames of us and our loved ones around the increasingly overcrowded tarmac of this little island.   And those of us who care about such things – and most of us do these days – need to feel that our next pride and joy is going to be as friendly as possible to our fragile ecosystem.

And that, in short, is why we need you, the motoring writers.  

Because you are there to help us make sure that our hearts, so far as possible, don’t rule our heads; that we don’t fall for an apparently desirable piece of eye-candy that turns out to be a lemon. 

You apply your years of experience and your technical expertise in supplying us with that rarest and most valuable of commodities: good, sound advice. 

And yes, you love cars too, as I learned at your annual dinner last year.  But it is not uncritical love, and therefore it is the best kind.

So please continue with your valuable work, all the more important in these difficult economic times.  Tell us, by all means, the bad as well as the good.

And if you must disillusion us, please do it gently. 

I’ve always liked cars, which is probably a dangerous thing to admit to in these politically correct days in which, in certain quarters, the likes of Jeremy Clarkson are suspected of covertly bearing the mark of the Beast.     

Notwithstanding, I do like cars and in Ruthin today, I saw a car that was – to my subjective eye – utterly beautiful.  It was a 2003 Peugeot 406 coupé, a model that had previously, inexplicably, escaped my notice. 

I spent several minutes walking around it, admiring the purity and elegant simplicity of its lines.  It was, according to a discreet badge low on its flank, a product of Farina, the Italian design house responsible for some of the most exciting models of such exotic marques as Ferrari, Maserati and Alfa Romeo, as well the more interesting offerings of such home-grown names as Morris and Austin in pre-British Leyland days.

I was lucky enough to meet its owner shortly afterwards and got into conversation with him.  He told me that the car gave him enormous pleasure and that he felt sure it was a future classic.

I feel pretty sure he’s right.  It’s an absolute stunner.

What ingredient is it, I wonder, in the Italian DNA that makes them such brilliant designers?  It’s not only cars; it’s ships, it’s clothes, it’s even coffee machines, for heaven’s sake.  Italy, above all nations, produces designers con bravura.

The seven year-old Peugeot, though French-manufactured, screamed “Italian”.  And, as such, it was an object that engendered instant, indefinable desire.

Sadly, therefore, I have to conclude that light blogging is likely to be the rule, rather than the exception, for the foreseeable future.  My profuse apologies to my readers, but there we are.  I’m sure you’ll understand. 

A second reason for the lack of blogging has been the fact that we have just moved house – a significantly harrowing experience, bedevilled and delayed by all sorts of hiccups. 

The move itself took place on Friday.  We said goodbye to the old family house, loaded our worldly possessions in a couple of vans and headed two miles eastward, over the next hill but one.  There we disgorged the same possessions and settled down to a summer in which we will be sharing our new home with builders, electricians, heating engineers and decorators.  

It will be a long haul, but I’m sure it will be worth it.

Personally, for his or her own good, as well as that of the Foreign Office, I should have thought it sensible to suggest to the official in question, as kindly as possible, that a career in diplomacy no longer beckons.

John Witherow, editor of the Sunday Times, points out that the charging structure will be the equivalent of a cup of coffee a day.  Fair point, but the site is still likely to lose thousands of readers, who have become used to unlimited free content on the web.

No doubt other online news sites will be carefully watching the Timesonline experiment before deciding whether to follow suit.

Perosnally, I may be tempted to subscribe on a weekly basis if the product is sufficiently attractive.  Timesonline says that it will be offering a free trial period, which I think will be crucial to the decisions of many as to whether or not to sign up.

Was interviewed yesterday by the BBC’s Bethan James, in advance of the Welsh party conference.

Bethan, who is five months pregnant, arrived wearing a London Underground “Baby on Board” badge.  I asked her if it worked.

“No, it doesn’t,” she said.  “People look at, read it, and then return to their papers.”

She then told me of an incident a few weeks ago, when a very heavily pregnant lady got on the very full Tube compartment in which Bethan was sitting.

“She was obviously distressed,” said Bethan.  “Nobody moved, so I got up and gave her my seat.  I then said in a very loud voice, ‘It has come to something when one pregnant woman has to give up her seat for another.’  But no one batted an eyelid.”

Just what has gone wrong with Londoners? 

If Boris wants to do a favour to pregnant women across the capital, he could do worse than order a Stand When You See A Baby On Board Badge poster campaign.

Introducing the latest revamp of the perennially ailing Sunday, its editor, John Mulholland, explained:

The Observer remains an independent voice and one that is committed to liberal and social democratic values.

Which it demonstrates by avoiding the use of capital letters.

TRAVELLING BOOK

I’m not lost – I’m on a journey!

Pick me up, read and release me!

The label refers me to a website, www.bookcrossing.com.  There, I discover that:

BookCrossing is earth-friendly, and gives you a way to share your books, clear your shelves, and conserve precious resources at the same time. Through our own unique method of recycling reads, BookCrossers give life to books. A book registered on BookCrossing is ready for adventure.

Leave it on a park bench, a coffee shop, at a hotel on vacation. Share it with a friend or tuck it onto a bookshelf at the gym — anywhere it might find a new reader! What happens next is up to fate, and we never know where our books might travel. Track the book’s journey around the world as it is passed on from person to person.

I think that this is a tremendous idea.  I’ve signed up.

At Transport Questions yesterday, the junior Transport Minister, Sadiq Khan, told the House that he had listened to representations from Newport East MP, Jessica Morden (presumably ignoring the rest of us) and was proposing to introduce the legislation necessary for the introduction of card payments on the Severn Bridge toll by April.

One further bit of good news was the announcement by his colleague, Chris Mole, that the Department for Transport is working up a proposal for the redoubling of the Swindon to Kemble railway line and hopes to provide further information about it “in the near future”.

The line is an important weekend link on the London to South Wales route and upgrading it would be widely welcomed by Welsh travellers, for whom it has long been a cause for complaint. 

It’s almost as if  an election were  in the offing.

Yesterday, Mr Ieuan Wyn Jones, transport minister in the Welsh Assembly Government, announced that credit and debit card payments on the bridge should become possible later in 2010.

The lack of a card payment facility has now become something of a scandal and an increasing source of annoyance for motorists.  A couple of years ago, on my way to the Royal Welsh show on a particularly hot day, I found myself stuck in a long queue behind a hapless individual who had clearly come out with insufficient cash and was obliged to conduct an elaborate negotiation with the toll attendant before he could be let through.  This must happen reasonably frequently, given that many people carry little cash in this age of chip and PIN.

According to the BBC News website, however, there will have to be a change to national legislation before card payments can be put in place.  Given that we are now in the dying days of this Parliament and the new Parliament will have rather a lot on its plate dealing with Gordon’s toxic legacy, we are probably in for at least one more summer of sticky, bad-tempered queues before the Severn crossing finally catches up with the twenty-first century.

A brief housekeeping note:  as many readers will be aware, I have called a meeting at 6.00 pm tomorrow (Friday) to discuss the future of Colwyn Bay pier.

This has generated considerable interest, and other bloggers have been encouraging people to attend.

However, the venue, Colwyn Bay town hall, is quite small and if people do not register their intention to attend, they may find, unfortunately, that they are turned away.

If you do wish to come, you will be very welcome, but please e-mail my office at owenj at  parliament.uk to let us know.  Space is now very limited indeed, so please contact us as soon as possible.

Can’t say I really like snow – my first ski-ing holiday was also my last – but it certainly does show Westminster off to its best advantage.

As I blogged yesterday, I take the view that it is the latter and will certainly be using it.  Not only in the interest of speed (it is certainly much less of a mouthful) but also because it is the way we have always done it.  The Noughties were an aberration, and it’s all to do with our propensity to pronounce the zeroes in years as “oh”.

For example, how do you pronounce the year 1909?  Is it “One Thousand, Nine Hundred and Nine”, “Nineteen Hundred and Nine” or “Nineteen-oh-Nine”?  I’d be prepared to lay good money it’s the third, because it’s the one that comes most naturally. 

Thus, the Battle of Blenheim was fought in Seventeen-oh-Four and Trafalgar in Eighteen-oh-Five; Asquith became Prime Minister in Nineteen-oh-Eight.  Name any year in the first decade of any century since the twelfth and I bet you stick an “oh” in it.  It’s so much easier to say.

So why were the Noughties different?  Well, probably because the word “twenty” doesn’t end in a consonant.  The “y” at its end functions as a vowel, and when two vowels clash, as would be the case if we said “Twenty-oh-Nine”, it would produce an unnatural, jerky effect, a bit like a glottal stop.  We try to avoid glottal stops, which is, of course, why we say “an orange” rather than “a orange”.

However, with the end of the Noughties and their intrusive ohs, we can now revert to our usual pattern of pronouncing years. 

So “Twenty-Ten” it will be, as far as I am concerned, and I expect that within a few months most people will have abandoned the long form of the date.  I may be wrong, but the acid test, as always, will be: what do the Radio 4 newsreaders say?

I’d guess that 2009 wasn’t the greatest year most of us have experienced.  2010 is going to be a big one, whatever happens.  I hope it will also be a good one for you and your family.