They failed to make it in 2009 - not enough volunteers, the band committee said. It was a great pity because it's such a wonderful interlude. Funnily enough, the church Christmas songsters didn't make it last year either.

It was all part of the festive season. The ad-hoc choir, quickly gathered-together church members, doing a tour of an evening, singing in the road, then adding a carol inside the house when they're invited in for mulled wine or a whisky and mince pie. Then, on Christmas morning, the unmistakeable sound of the local brass band taking us out to the gate to enjoy their good cheer in exchange for a contribution in the box for band funds and refreshments. They were all greatly missed last year.

A magical moment occurred two or three years ago. We heard the band approaching and as they stopped at our gate to start a new carol. As they hit the first note, snowflakes began to fall. It was a Hollywood moment, though no film director could have planned it better.

Tuba players (photo: Charlotte Griffin, Ty Cerdd)

I've got a lot of time for brass bands. Their performances on stage can be rousing, colourful, inspiring and, on occasions very animated and theatrical. They have working class roots and they nurture youth. Any youngster showing interest is hugely encouraged and allowed to borrow an instrument until circumstances allow one to be purchased.

I've spoken to members of many bands very often. The subject of musical snobbery is often discussed, the orchestra being at one 'posh' social level, the brass or silver band at another cloth-cap level altogether.Thankfully, things are so much better now with a blurring of the attainment, acceptance and musical excellence.

I've learnt a lot too. Brass bands are divided into divisions and competition allows them to attain promotion. In many ways, they are like soccer teams and the bands in the lower division suffer from the temptations of transfer for their better players. A good player gets invited to join a band in a higher division and the band they leave are stuck in a lower division because some of their quality and expertise has gone.

The Cynon Valley has been rich in banding. The Cwmaman Band was in the Premier Division, but loss of sponsorship, especially after the big benefactor, Tower Colliery, closed, hit them very hard indeed. Llwydcoed Band continue to carry the banner, so good luck to them. I'm visited often by committee members in search of contributions and raffle prizes and I'm pleased to support them. Continued success to them all.

Wales has many great brass bands. I could mention half a dozen, but it's dangerous ground because I might miss one out. I will mention one though: Cory Band of the Rhondda. Last year I was privileged to compère their 125th anniversary concert in St David's Hall, Cardiff. They were then European champions and, within three weeks, they became world champions. It was a stupendous night, packed to the gunnels with dignitaries and composers, some from the north of England, which is a hot-bed area for banding.

These bands carry the Welsh dragon everywhere and they take Wales to the world at the highest level. They deserve praise and support for honing this cultural field in the way they do.

I'm not a great expert on band music, but I will readily be in their corner if required. I do hope Llwydcoed Band do the annual village tour on Christmas morning. They lift the spirit and, in their playing, they send forth the true Christmas message of goodwill to all.

Roy

Roy Noble is bringing his famous storytelling skills to a computer near you as part of the BBC First Click Campaign - aimed at encouraging people to take their first steps to getting online. If you know somebody who needs help to get online, call the free BBC First Click advice line on 08000 150950.

This came home to me this week when I chatted, on air in my programme, to Gavin Henson about his progress in Strictly Come Dancing. My word, he's getting better. His quickstep was a vast improvement on his previous displays. His problem, up to then, according to the judges, was his inability to let himself go: he couldn't unleash his personality. For years I had this problem - my natural movement was caged in a body beset with too many shy genes.

My grammar school days did not unleash my potential on the dance floor. They did try: in the sixth form, from September to December in preparation for the Christmas party, there were compulsory ballroom dancing lessons. We were frogmarched to the gymnasium, twice a week, for lessons in the waltz, the foxtrot, the cha cha cha, the tango and even the gay Gordon's.

I quite liked the latter, for it was quite structured and easy and you changed partners without too many mishaps. The rest was a maelstrom of arms, legs and a back so stiff it would have doubled as a gravestone.

Being allocated a partner was also a lottery. Boys would be lined against one set of wall-bars and the girls would be lined along the opposite bars. You could easily see which number in the row you were and, as you counted the girls to find who was opposite you, there was many a whispered groan of "Oh God, look who I've got," followed by a plea of "Go on, I'll give you half a crown if you change places with me".

Actually, I had a load of luck, I was allocated Delia, an attractive girl from the upper sixth, so I was a toy-boy. She was great, but the downer was that I was only comfortable with her and at the sixth form Christmas party I was hopeless in dancing with others.

The great things about those dancing lessons were the actual dancing teachers, who were the heads of PE for boys and girls. Mr Adams, for the boys, was in the autumn of his teaching career. He was 56. Miss Norman, head of PE for girls, was in the early spring of her teaching career. She was 24 and out of some glossy magazine.

She was lovely and the great joy was that if, as a young lad of 16, 17 or 18, you couldn't do a dance, she'd come and help you and hold you close. I have to tell you, one dip and turn in the tango with Miss Norman could advance a boy's education by a leap of years.

Roy and Elaine Noble dancing on their honeymoon

Over the years I've had lots of lessons and, to be fair, I have loosened up. My wife Elaine and I attended lessons together and it did help, up the point that the tutors in the class suddenly took a contract on a P&O liner to South Africa and left us mid-cha cha cha.

I can waltz, though, and I do like a jive, even though Elaine always says that the past landlord of the Gloucester Arms in Aberdare was the king of jive. He was better than me, even if he had to wear daps because of his bad feet.

My last musical lunge at dancing was my New Year's resolution, a few years ago. I wanted to learn the Argentinean Tango. I was given lessons, in a hall in Tumble, filmed by Heno for S4C, by a very lithe lady from Llanelli.

She was too good for me too powerful. Whenever she wrapped her leg tightly around my upper thigh it stopped all the blood getting to my ankles. I always ended up with nasty pins and needles. No, my body's beat being in tune with the beat of the music it may be, but only in the waltz I think. So, altogether now: "One two three, one two three..."

Roy

Roy Noble is bringing his famous storytelling skills to a computer near you as part of the BBC First Click Campaign - aimed at encouraging people to take their first steps to getting online. If you know somebody who needs help to get online, call the free BBC First Click advice line on 08000 150950.

On the radio programme I mentioned that a German sausage producer plays Mozart and Beethoven while the sausages are being made. He swears that because of the lilting and uplifting ambience, the sausages are so much better quality.

Now, I've heard of cows giving more milk to a musical background, chickens laying more eggs and even vines producing better quality wine, but I'm not sure about sausages. Then again, if it works, don't knock it... there's more to heaven and earth than we fully understand.

Boyhood pals: Berian Evans and Roy

We had a visitor at Noble Towers to add interest over the past few days. Berian Evans, a lifelong friend of mine, originally from Brynaman but now of Perth Australia, stayed with us on his tour of relatives and friends in 'the Old Country'.

Berian is a professional musician, still playing the viola for the Western Australia Symphony Orchestra. For many years he was a violin player, of some note may I say. When he was about 12 he was selected as one of the youngest members of the Welsh National Youth Orchestra, and at 16 became one of the youngest leaders.

I remember his early flirtation with the violin. His parents were very strict about his practicing and he was one of the first boys I knew who wore prickly vests. The harsh linen concentrated his mind I suppose, keeping it on the musical straight and narrow, avoiding temptations that weakened the will.

I have always been jealous of musicians. I know I could have done something about it and taken up an instrument and it is never too late, so who knows?

Mind you, things mitigated against me sometimes. In the Brynaman Infants School percussion group, I was never let loose on the drum. It was always the triangle or tambourine for me.

The percussion group at Brynaman Infants School

Thinking back to the days in school, when they were looking for choir members for the combined schools choir at the National Eisteddfod at Ystradgynlais in the 1950s, it was Berian Evans himself who told the teacher that I got dizzy when I tried to reach high notes.

I was away ill, with measles, so I couldn't tell the teacher that Berian was talking through his knitted balaclava, which was just as prickly as his vest. His assessment was utter musical garbage, but the teacher still put me in the inter-school group recitation troupe instead.

Musical acumen did jump a generation in our family, because Noble Junior, our son Richard, did play the cello and performed in St. David's Hall, Cardiff, with the Mid-Glamorgan County Orchestra. He also went on to form a group, playing a bass guitar and being a lead singer.

So, deep down there must have been something hidden in the blood trying to get out for it does manifest itself in me on occasion. Give me four or five pints and I will give a passable rendering of Don Williams' I Recall A Gipsy Woman. Push me further with a malt whisky and Dean Martin's Little Ole Wine Drinker Me just flows out.

Roy

Roy Noble is bringing his famous storytelling skills to a computer near you as part of the BBC First Click Campaign - aimed at encouraging people to take their first steps to getting online. If you know somebody who needs help to get online, call the free BBC First Click advice line on 08000 150950.