where art collides philosoperontap

February 27, 2011

The Peugeot of four oh six

Filed under: chinks — Trefor Davies @ 2:56 pm

The Peugeot is dead, long live the Nissan Micra

It wasn’t the scratches (multiple and in the same place) down its side

Or the hole where the drivers side lock used to be that wasn’t too much of a problem until the remote control central locking stopped working so you always had to open the car using the passenger side lock (ie the one remaining)

Nor was it specifically the fact that the petrol gauge only worked when flicked with a finger and ditto speedo and the rev counter (who needs a rev counter?!)

Fortunately, of the two it was the window water jet on the driver’s side that remained functioning

And I didn’t mind the fact that to unlock the petrol cap you had to lift the lever in the foot well with your toe whilst stretching back to unhitch the lid because the spring mechanism didn’t work

The nailed in place rear driver side window (an over enthusiastic passenger looking for a ride home from a party) was not an issue to me

and the fact that you couldn’t see what channel the radio was tuned to because the light didn’t work – this of course was a problem when we had to re enter the radio security code but couldn’t actually see what we were entering – the volume button had fallen off the radio anyway and it was a different light to the clock illuminator – no we couldn’t see the time at night.

No, seeing as you ask, the battle scarred veteran of gate post knocks and pay and display machine bumps suffered from not a scrap or scintilla of rust. The engine was in good order and would have comfortably added 50,000 miles to the 250,000 it had already travelled.

The gaffer tape holding the wing mirror in place was not a problem and the MOT inspector seemed unconcerned with the permanently flashing airbag light that was covered in black tape so as not to annoy the driver. 

In fact it was all of the above. The Peugeot 406, registration number N810NTL, colour dark blue had served its time.

We salute it, our faithful servant, “Tom’s car”, one we could happily leave overnight outside the pub and return to pick it up in the morning. A car I no longer bothered to lock much of the time. Who would take it?

The Peugeot was traded in for a £100 discount on a second hand Nissan Micra.

Our car now lies in a scrapyard, in what condition we know not. We shall not be making enquiries. We shall not be there at the end and our “Peugeot of four oh six” will finish its glorious days alone and friendless under the chilling shadow of the crusher.

It will not be forgotten, but the Peugeot is dead, long live the Nissan Micra.

Enoch Runsewe

Filed under: chinks,poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 1:54 pm

Enoch Runsewe – train attendant
I met him once
on the train,
we spoke, briefly,
short, to the point,
I wanted something
he could supply,
in mere seconds,
I wouldn’t recognise him
without his badge
and I, without ID,
now sipping my tea,
remain anonymous, forever,
unremembered, by he.

picture the scene

reflections off the bank

Filed under: winter series — Trefor Davies @ 1:42 pm

wanlit lake, mists, frost, empty trees, swans, frozen sheep, county gate, footpath, bracken bronze copper, hurdle, reflections off the bank

winter, not always dull – beauty lies in its depth.

February 19, 2011

3rd law part 9 – gobbles, gold top and the IOM southern agricultural show

Filed under: 3rd law — Trefor Davies @ 1:35 pm

It’s raining on the roof of the world. Well on the roof of my conservatory at least. I can hear it and I can see it. Being a bespectacled person I can also often provide advanced warning of the imminence of such precipitation. It only takes a drop or two. There is probably a scientific formula that states the necessary rainfall density (drops per square metre) required for this early warning mechanism to work and likely includes the value of the surface area of the specs (glasses – not specifications – use of the latter word would not have made contextual sense in this sentence). Today I am sitting inside the conservatory so talk of an early warning system is immaterial.

I have just come back from town. A trip down town is never countenanced lightly but on this occasion I had to buy Joe a pair of trousers before we go on holiday. The task was made harder by the fact that he was not there with me and I had instead his little brother John in tow. Anyway I came away with some trousers and bribed some peace off John by taking him to Cafe Nero.

I am not the biggest fan of sitting in coffee shops. I think people do it for the sake of it. This time was different. We had good window seats and my phone was out of order so I had to talk to my son! It was great.

We sat there looking out of the window. The biggest question was who was in the goldfish bowl? Was it us sat inside or was it all the other people scurrying along under their umbrellas or huddled overcoats. We were the smaller box but there again when you go and visit an aquarium you sometimes go through a small space under a tank and look at the sharks and fish swimming around you.

The right answer is in the mind of the questioner. There is no right answer and all answers are right, without question 🙂  Just put that bit in as an afterthought and the smiley face indicates that I was quite pleased with myself. That is something completely within my control in this case. I could have chosen a different emotion. Exhibited surprise perhaps or even nonchalance. It isn’t beyond the realms of the imagination to see how one might say that sentence again in a nonchalant manner, twirling a stick as I go along. I don’t know how to do a nonchalant emoticon btw.

Anne’s cousin bought me a walking stick for my 40th birthday once. Ok ok I know I don’t sound as if I am forty. In fact I’m not. That was nearly ten years ago. Can’t believe it! I’m still a kid. Who but an immature adolescent boy could write such drivel anyway? Huh.

It’s not the warmest of rooms today, is the conservatory. Warmer than outside maybe but really merits a thicker sweater than I am currently wearing. I’m actually wearing an Animal hoodie, quite consistent with being an adolescent. My mum bought it for me last summer – there’s a general thread of consistency running right through this bit of writing don’t you think?

Well we can kill that one off straight away.

You don’t see much gold top milk in the shops these days. It’s mostly just full fat, semi-skimmed and skimmed. I’ve never quite seen the point of skimmed milk. It’s just coloured water if you ask me. Also once weaned off full fat, which is of course normal milk, and on to semi skimmed it is difficult to go back and the idea of drinking the ordinary stuff let alone gold top. There again, you never see it any more…

This leads nicely to the fact that I have just taken delivery of hte February issue of Agri-News, published for Manx farmers by the Department of Environment, Food and Agriculture. The kids signed me up for it when we were at the Southern Agricultural Show outside Castletown one summer holiday. We go there every year – the Isle of Man not the Agricultural Show. Not that I mind going to such shows. In fact I very much like em.

Its good to keep in touch with our farming roots. My lot were farmers if you go back far enough. These days the Davies family is in the internet business. Wasn’t much of it around way back when. In fact you don’t have to go back very far for there not ot have been internet. Its one of the reasons that the third law is not yet widely known, although I have never met anyone that either disagrees with the hypothesis (theory?) or has been able to disprove it.

I’m not sure whether either hypothesis or theory were the correct words (and there was no real reason for the word “theory” to be in brackets either) but you know what? It just doesn’t matter. Not a jot or an inch or a gobble or a quack. Note the mixing of terms of measurement there. The latter two were not even that but they instantly came to mind – from the song “If I were a rich man” AND NOT EVEN IN THE RIGHT ORDER. Caps accidentally switched on there but I couldn’t be bothered to undo them.

I once recorded the first verse of If I were a rich man on our answer phone – me playing the guitar. At the end of the song I just said “please leave a message”. I found later this was a mistake. I was away on business in the Soviet Union and every time I rang home I had to wait a whole minute before I could leave Anne a message. In those days the costs were something stupid like £5 a minute. Ah well. It was an expenses job anyway.

As I approach the one thousand word mark for this episode the words begin to slowly run out and stop exactly there.

3rd law part 8

3rd Law part 10

Editor’s footnote: for authoritative post on rainfall measurement techniques see here.

February 12, 2011

the drive home from the carwash

Filed under: chinks — Trefor Davies @ 1:01 pm

video short

Filed under: the art gallery — Trefor Davies @ 12:54 pm

An original work by Tom Davies

Lets go for a coffee

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 12:01 pm

Lets go for a coffee
it’s a destination
no recreation
sitting there
in the picture window
self conscious objects of mild interest
Saying nowt, sipping
their lattes and cappucini
staring back blankly
unquestioning of their celebrity
or reason for being there.
Lets go for a coffee.

February 10, 2011

The Modern Urban Mundanist Part 2

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 8:27 pm

The mundanist
City boy with a recently developed style
found in the ordinary course of events
he developed an immense terrestrial practicality
though a person who does not belong to a particular group
and considered to be “normal”,

“a placid everyday scene” not meant in the sense of “boring”, but in the technical sense of “of the physical world”.

A contemporary person advanced: ahead of the times in a place that exceeds a population size or density threshold as defined according to the census. An early Christian, also Urbane.

February 8, 2011

The modern urban mundanist

Filed under: poems — Tags: — Trefor Davies @ 8:44 pm

The modern urban mundanist,
Would not go and chop off his ear,
In the manner of Gauguin the artist,
He would find it much harder to hear.

Though an ear to the ground can be handy,
When attempting to snap the mundane,
For without it the risk is that sadly,
All your photos would look quite the same.

@funkypancake: the modern urban mundanist

February 6, 2011

The Red Flag at RAF Scampton playing field

Filed under: the art gallery — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 9:11 pm

Flag at Sleaford Town Football Club

Filed under: the art gallery — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 8:40 pm

February 5, 2011

shoes on show @lauraandrew style

Filed under: poems — Tags: , — Trefor Davies @ 1:23 pm

Shoes on show, for those in the know,
an afternoon to while – @lauraandrew style,
cognoscenti, shoes a plenty,
forget those rainy downtown shopping blues,
Gallery at St Martins is the place for shoes

http://www.pipbowman.co.uk/GalleryatStMartins.htm
http://www.lauraandrew.com/

for @lauraandrew

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