where art collides philosoperontap

Serious result last night. We were meeting the Bradshaws at The Cricketers and sister Sue dropped us off en route to her orchestra rehearsal. She inadvertently dropped us outside The Pontcanna Inn and as we were an hour early THG and I popped in for a quick slurp.

We found an empty table easily enough and sitting down realised there was a film crew on the table next to us. Hmm, something going on. Then people in period costume began to appear and chatting with one of them revealed that we were going to be visited by the Mari Lwyd. This is a mythical horse that traditionally brings in the old Welsh New Year which happened to be last night.

The visitation only lasted five minutes or so and we all joined in some singing. The pub was by then rammed. THG and I moved on to meet the Bradshaws.

“Meet the Bradshaws” sounds a bit like the movie “Meet the Fokkers” but it isn’t really. We had a nice chat and a meal in The Cricketers which is close to the Glamorgan CCC ground Sophia Gardens. I used to be a member until they canned the country membership category. The £250 a year they wanted me to fork out seems a little excessive considering I only went to see one game in the three or four years of my membership. I have now joined Notts CCC – Trent Bridge is a lot more convenient.

So today we are off to the Bannau Brycheiniog and Abergavenny, stomping ground of @adrian who has the shortest email address of anyone I know. If we spot you Rev we will wave. 

Oh and Penblwydd Hapus @sue.

…

Driving through the Bannau Brycheiniog farmlands the fields looked lacklustre and poor pickings for grazing sheep. Later the sun emerged, warming the mountainside with rich colouration.

A game of rugby was in full flow as we drove into Brecon. I thought about stopping but figured I’d be outvoted by the girls.

Approaching Merthyr Tydfil and  ‘civilization’ the rows of boxes people call home did not really fit with the natural beauty of the valleys. There were no planning laws during the industrial revolution and if there were they were clearly ignored.

You will of course be aware that hymn writer Joseph Parry, of Myfanwy fame, was born in Merthyr. Was sent to work in a mill at the age of nine. Must have been a helluva guy to have had that tough a start in life and yet end up composing over 400 Hymn tunes, three hundred songs, and 300 anthems, chorales and other orchestral pieces.

I won’t offend your sensibilities by telling you who Tydfil was. Schoolboy stuff.

Bore da Caerdydd. Slow start. Bacon roll and a glass of milk. Now listening to Graham Nash on Desert Island Discs. It’s years since I listened to DID. Hadn’t realised it was that time and it feels like the weekend, being in Caerdydd. We came down a day early.

Bit of pottering around this morning, conference call at lunchtime and perhaps head down the coast later. Penarth for a cuppa.

Was waiting in a queue yesterday and the woman in front of me gave her name. A good name so I wrote it down. She even spelled it out for me/the receptionist. I just googled it. There is only one person of that name in the country. I won’t tell you the name. She was of an age and you don’t hear people being named that name nowadays.You can ask me when we meet in person.

Google actually came up with two people of that name but deeper investigation showed that they were one and the same person. She moved from Birmingham to Lincoln around 2003/2004. Still further investigation revealed that there was someone with her name at school in Sheffield in 1947. Either she never married or someone was referring to her married name when describing their school friends.

I’ll stop there. It’s a bit pointless but it does show how much you can find out about a person just by using google. It’s difficult to stay anonymous these days. I once searched for me and not only did it tell me where I lived but the names and ages of my kids. They have changed since then. The ages that is, not the names.

Being called Huw Trefor Davies brings its own challenges. Oo that’s an unusual way to spell Trevor isn’t it (you ignorant person). Is that Davies with or without an ‘e’? Then I have to use Huw when signing up for things because they often ask for your first name, rather than the one you generally use. It’s even worse when talking to an overseas call centre. No its eff for foxtrot not ess for sugar. Whoodathunk my name would be such a problem.

Coffee in Chapter Arts Centre at 11. See you there.

Off to Caerdydd this morning to visit @Sue. THG is taking the first stint driving fair play. She can only do this if we are in her car, which we are. Mine is at the menders waiting for a part that is on back order. Could be waiting a while. She won’t drive mine as it is too big. Fair enough.

It is raining. Almost as if we are already in Wales! Our destination being Wales I have brought two coats. One warm and waterproof duffelcoat and my leather love and peace job. The weather will dictate which coat I wear. My preference is love and peace, obvs, natch, man.

I don’t mind rain although being a wearer of spectacles I am physically challenged by it. Usually I bring a wide rimmed hat to keep my specs dry but I’ve forgotten. Didn’t really even think about it until I started writing this. It would probably blow off in Wales anyway. I don’t mind wind either. You just have to choose the right headgear.

On a trip like this we swap driving at around the half way point. Made sense for me to take the second leg as I am from Wales and will be able to read the road signs when we are across the border. Attention to detail…

Stopping off for a cuppa with @mike en route so should get to Caerdydd just before the pubs open. I like to support the local economy. The Corp near Sue’s does a pint of Tiny Rebel. V nice. Likely there fiveish for a while if youi are in the area. Ping me. The Italian deli in The Corp does a really good pancetta and salami. 

I don’t need any olive oil having bought too much last year when I was going through my olive oil connoiseur phase. I do need some more balsamic vinegar but the stuff you get in shops here tends not to be premium quality. It’s only when you’ve tasted the good stuff you begin to know the difference. As a compromise I buy Belazu aged balsamic vinegar from Waitrose.

It is Thursday. No milk today.

…

Idling away the time in the car I wondered how much catching a train to Caerdydd would be. Lincoln to Caerdydd 1st Class Advanced Puchase with railcard £274, change at Nottingham. Lincoln to Nottingham is £9.30 – there is no ist Class. 1st Class Nottingham to Cardiff £87.50. The difference is downright dishonest if you ask me. No idea what standard class might cost.

So a return fare would cost just under two hundred quid. Times that by two and you could almost buy a small car and driver there for that. As it is I guess the Peugeot 107 driven by THG is an economic way of getting there, albeit not the most comfortable drive. 

The milkman came at 4.07 this morning. Didn’t hear him. Land of nod. I assume he wears thermal underwear at this time of year. It’s v cold out. At least it keeps the milk 🥛 at the right temperature. Woke momentarily at five ey em and pondered getting up but the next thing I knew it was six thirty and THG had volunteered it was her turn to make the tea. Result!

Gonna have some more axe action after breakfast. Logs and kindling. Fire was a roaring success last night. At least it is dry. No snow forecast.

Have also decided to up the pace of Facebook posting for Anne’s Vans. I did one yesterday and got a lot of reaction including from  an Italian woman we met at a B&B in Cape Cod. Neglected vans social media last year but this year will make up for that methinks. It doesn’t really take much time. Just needs me to slot it in.

PS

Just flicking through my Hilton app and seem to have a hotel booking in London on 16th and 17th Feb. However I have no idea what for. If anyone has a clue I’d be grateful otherwise I’ll cancel.

…

Just back from a swim. THG and I each had a lane to ourselves which is good. Looks like Wednesday pm could be a good time to go. Hit the steam room afterwards and I asked THG if I’d told her my story about the nude blondes in the steam room. Many times she said. Then a voice piped up from an ethereal figure just about visible through the steam. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it”. So I told it.

Many years ago I used th be a regular visitor to the European Space Agency Tech Centre in Nordwijk in the Netherlands. We used to stay in a very nice five star hotel on the sea front. One of the characteristics of hotels in Nordwijk was the all naked spa suites.

A pal of mine stayed there with his wife once when there was a beautician’s conference going on in the hotel. The place was full of young attractive women. This friend was sat next to his wife on a  lounger around the pool and asked her if she fancied a stint in the steam room. She declined and he went on his own.

He stripped off and went into the steam room only to find fifteen naked blondes in there. He told me he stayed in that steam room as long as was physically possible. His wife must have wondered what happened to him. Happy days…

Granola with yo gurt and blackberries this morning. Yum. THG does a very good granola. None of this sugary shop bought stuff. We picked the blackberries ourselves. Was a good harvest in 2023. Funny to be looking back at 2023 now. I had grown used to it. All things come to pass.

JPR died – you will all have heard this by now, first on social media and then on the news on the wireless. He was part of the wallpaper in the seventies in Wales. Aged seventy four. You felt comfortable if JPR was in the team. I lament the passing of the amateur era of rugby. Doesn’t feel the same anymore. 

Nowadays when thinking of people from the past I find myself wondering if they are still alive. I google them. People disappear from your consciousness and only appear when their death is announced. It’s an age thing. People get on with their own lives out of the media glare. Most of us.

It’s already Tuesday. Twenty twenty four is racing by. Don’t want to worry you but trefbash 15 is already booked. 12th December. Theme is Tropical Trefbash. I book it just after the previous trefbash. I like to see how it goes before thinking about the next one.

In the meantime lots to be getting on with. Don’t want to wish twenty twenty four away do we? I’d like to think it will be the most significant year yet. We should approach every year with that attitude.

The heating is on, for the moment. I had a few fifty pound notes going spare so I thought I’d set fire to them. Picture THG and I huddled around a small pile of banknotes holding out hands out to keep warm. Feels like a Banksy painting. We ran out of chair legs ages ago.

Not totes true. I have two magnificent logpiles. Some of the logs might be ready and I plan to test them out this evening. They were from a large branch blown over by storm Eunice the year before last. The one where the planes and trains were cancelled and we were stuck in Schipol for eight hours and caught covid thanks to some filthy disease ridden traveller. Thanks a bunch. Pal.

Fortunately the shed is v warm and is my destination this morning. I have made a fourth pot of tea. The other three were made by THG who is a wonderful gal. No biscuits though. Outside the shed there is some sort of purple leaved palm tree in a pot. It keeps blowing over in the wind. It is bitterly cold out there. Winter is at its deepest. 

…

Using my hand axe I’ve chopped up a bit of fence for kindling. Got a v solid bit of oak as a chopping block.  Taken a couple of oak logs inside and supplemented them with some of the kiln dried wood we have left from last year. A log fire seems v appropriate tonight. Primordial.

I suspect we never tire of staring into log fires. A latent memory handed down by our ancestors who would no doubt have looked contemptuously at central heating. “Think of the gas bills”.

Presumably they did sit around the fire discussing issues of the day. Whereabouts of sabre toothed tigers. Stay clear of them. The annual salmon run. That kind of stuff. It’s a lot easier to nip to Waitrose for some pre prepared hot smoked salmon, and a bit of salad.

Cmon baby light my fire…

For many this is the last day of the midwinter break/Christmas holiday. Some will have already jetted off to Barbados, others will be in St Moritz and the rest of you will reconciling yourselves to a week of drudgery and grind as your minds and bodies restart the process of wage slavery and refamiliarise yourselves with the office treadmill. Remember you have a team meeting arranged for nine ey em Monday morning. Don’t be late!

I’m only kidding. Like me I expect you are all looking forward to the challenges and excitement that lie in store in twenty twenty four. Bit of a rhyme there. Grasp that nettle and make it happen. My first meeting is arranged for a sedate three pee em and should be a fun session. Not fun in a barrel of laughs fun. Just interesting stuff.. 

I may sit in on the Monday morning sales meeting. I like to keep an eye on what is happening. It does get a bit boring mind you when each sales guy discusses in detail the facts of their opportunities. All I really want to know is how much and when the cash will be in the bank.

In the meantime, today is Sunday. In some religions this is the Sabbath and a day of rest and worship. Not in all religions. You can choose based on what you want to get out of the day. Sabbath and down tools or non Sabbath and get a few jobs done.

My 4 x great grandfather the Reverend Daniel Davies was excommunicated from his church, the Baptist Chapel in Llandysul, for allowing a farm hand to work on the Sabbath. I dunno whether it was a one off but the excommunication nowadays would seem harsh. They took him back into the fold a few years later. He too was married to an Ann fwiw. I suppose there is a scenario where she too carried the moniker THG but I doubt it. He probably called her Mrs Davies. Mrs Davies fach.

I will be putting up a newly framed photo of our daughter Hannah and boyf George. In the kitchen. Then I’ll probs make a start on the log pile at the bottom of the garden. Hard work mind you. The log pile not the picture. Also need to nip out t’t shops for a few bits and bobs including some more printer paper and a pint of milk.

Yesterday’s activities included taking down my map wall to make room for more posters. I’ve unrolled the posters and laid them flat on the other table in the shed in readiness for sticking up. Only slight issue is that I seem to have got a little carried away with buying replica Isle of Man tourist posters. I don’t want to use them all. Don’t want the wall dominated by them. Got a few gig posters to stick up and my super cool Monaco Grand Prix 1965 job purchaysed in Antibes last September. When I’ve finished I’ll let you know what I have left in case anyone would like one. FOC obvs 🙂In the meantime the wall looks very stark. It’s going to stay like that for a few days.

From mid afternoon onwards will be all about sport. THG and I are off swimming and get back in time to see Liverpool wallop Arsenal in the FA Cup. Then the snooker masters starts at seven. That’s THG out of action for the next week. She is an avid snooker fan.

In the meantime may the day bring you all you deserve, an outcome made more likely if you can get all those jobs done.

Ciao amigos.

New jobslist started for 2024. I like to have a new one every year. When I finish a job I just strike through the task rather than deleting it. That way I can look back over the year’s jobs with a sense of achievement, maybs. I accidentally added and struck through some 2024 jobs in the 2023 list but I’ll just write them off. Doesn’t matter in the great scheme of things. None of it matters anyway.

I like historical detail and my jobslist is such a thing. In a thousand years time people will be able to read my jobslists and get a glimpse of everyday life in Lincoln in the early twenty first century. Well no they probs wont. For one they are unlikely to be able to find my jobslist as it is in (on?) my password protected Google drive and even if it wasn’t it would be a small set of docs in an unimaginably large human oeuvre.

The lists could well be made public on philosopherontap and now that I mention it I probably will but even then that site won’t last forever. I guess there is the wayback machine, if it survives the great natural disaster of 2173.

This morning THG is off to the park run and I am not. She is therefore taking an early breakfast and again I am not. Her brekkie will likely involve porridge or granola and yo gurt. Mine will involve toast. I am taking advantage of this last weekend of the mid winter break to finish off any carbs left carelessly around the kitchen.

We also have a meeting of the Shed Appreciation Society scheduled for three pee em this afternoon. This is likely to be the last such meeting for a while due to other commitments but it will reconvene in the second half of February when I can put up holiday photos on the large screen in the shed for the enjoyment of the members.

Not really. Everyone will already have seen them on Facebook and noone is likely to want to look at them anyway. If I go out to the pub THG will often ask upon my return what we talked about. The truth is I will have no idea. It isn’t so much as “what is said in the pub stays in the pub’. It’s more down to the fact that it will have been forgettable banter that will genuinely already have been forgotten. I will have no idea how the new grandkid is or how the round the world cruise went.

The same applies to meetings of the Shed Appreciation Society. These meetings are relatively short and are conducted in the hour or two before people have to go home for their evening meal. Most members are able to walk home from the shed which is very wise as there is free access to the Stella Artois drinks fridge that resides under the shelving unit.

I dunno if I ever told you but the philosopherontap concept was invented in the Morning Star one evening in two thousand and eight. It was going to be somewhere that people could get together to discuss all things philosophical and creative. The strapline is ‘where art collides’.

At one stage I did consider an application to the Arts Council for funding so that I could sit in the pub talking pub philosophy with anyone who wanted. The money would go on buying beer for me and the pub philosophers willing to engage. Turned out that there was a ridiculous amount of paperwork that needed filling in so I abandoned that idea early on.

The website has been busy off and on. In the intervening sixteen years there have been two thousand two hundred and forty four published posts. Mostly mine but some by guest contributors – poets mostly. Nowadays it seems to be mostly the same stuff you get to see on Facebook but freely available to the world. No idea how much traffic it gets.

If you want a guest logon let me know. Ditto if you want an invite to the shed someday. You will find it a warm and hospitable place full of bonhomie and convivial conversation. Don’t expect to remember any of it though.

Today is Twelfth Night. You heard it first here. Well actually tonight must be Twelfth Night otherwise they would call it Twelfth Day. Also this is probably not the first time you heard the term so my statement is not totes accurate. Consider this as your first reminder.

This did make me wonder why ‘twelve’ days of Christmas. Googling comes up with results about the Christmas carol. Unimaginative, Google. However it is easy enough to see through the lyrical mist to find sources that discuss the historical significance of the song and on this occasion it was Reader’s Digest that came up with the goods. I didn’t even know that Readers Digest was still a thing. I suppose it is a trustworthy brand and can be taken as read.

Anyway RD tells us that “Christians believe that the 12 days of Christmas mark the amount of time it took after the birth of Jesus for the magi, or wise men, to travel to Bethlehem for the Epiphany when they recognized him as the son of God. The specific time period was likely part of the early church’s effort to adapt pre-Christian celebrations that helped the ancient Europeans get through the long winter nights.”

There ya go. I wonder about the logistics of their trip. How far could you travel in twelve days? Presumably there weren’t twelve days of elapsed journey time. There must have been some up front planning. Figuring out where to stay en route, where to refuel the camels etc etc. The modern day equivalent would be planning a trip from Abu Dhabi or simlar to Bethlehem in an electric car. Made harder by the fact that it was a busy time of year, as we know from the inability of Joe (?) and Mary to find a regular hotel room. And remember, they didn’t have AirBnB in those days and no tinterweb wtf!!!

The whole process for the magi sounds impossibly complex. There is no way they could have planned such a journey in the time seemingly available to them. Arranging hotel rooms en route would have taken months of correspondence back and forth until somewhere had been sorted for each day of the journey. It is also highly unlikely that they would have had advanced notice as this birth will have had higher levels of secrecy and security than any that had gone before. We all know how volatile a region it is in the Middle East. It’s dangerous man.

My only conclusion is that the wise men must have brought a tent with them and wild camped. It’s the only practical solution. This does feel somewhat counterintuitive as we know they were kings, from Orient far. For the reasons of secrecy already mentioned they wouldn’t have wanted to take their normal entourage, some of whom could have been sent on ahead, to pitch the tent or negotiate the use of spare rooms with local householders en route. 

Everyone needs a bit of extra cash at this time of year so that could have worked. However that would be fraught with danger. Spies everywhere. As kings they could have dropped in on the local royalty but as we know King Herod is the one person they would have wanted to avoid. Hard to make up an excuse as to why they were passing through without giving the game away. After all, gold, frankincense and myrrh were not your regular suitcase contents. “Did you pack this bag yourself sir?”

I’m glad I was able to provide some more insight as to why today is Twelfth Night. If you have a curious mind like me I know it will have been racing. You now have no need to call upon Google.

In other news I was awake momentarily at four twenty ey em this morning when the milkman rocked up. Pure coincidence although the sound of the front door opening could have disturbed my sleep pattern. 

We haven’t started on the milk he delivered on Wednesday yet. I will drink some of it at breakfast. It will be a late breakfast today as I’ve been busy researching the Twelfth Night and THG is already busying herself around the house getting on with her daily chores.

This does make me feel somewhat of an idle git but it is still the holiday season, albeit the last day of it. Tomorrow is the weekend. Good timing.

Whilst I have nothing in my diary for today I am going to spend some time tidying the shed and doing admin. I have a growing pile of paperwork in my ‘filing’ tray. This also tends to be where I chuck stuff that doesn’t immediately need addressing so I should take a look through it in case there is anything that has become urgent.

At some stage I need to nip out to B&Q to buy some tiny screws. I have some brass label holders that need screwing into the chest of drawers in the shed but the selection of screws I have available to me are all too long. 

Ok gotta go. I have a fast that needs breaking and being a feast day we should make it a good one. Ciao bebes.

…

Today I’ve been tidying the shed. Not finished yet by a long chalk but a start has been made. The map wall has been taken down in readiness for the positioning of new posters and I’ve put the label holders on the chest of drawers. At some stage the drawers will need some compartmentalisation but I won’t do that until I know what’s going in.

I also need to glue the butter dish, broken by accident (not by me surprisingly) over the Christmas period. We had only had it a few days!

My monitors have been straightened. For this I used a spirit level. You would think getting a screen level could be done with the naked eye but there were conflicting data points. I was using the TV, a device known to be correctly fitted in the horizontal, as a calibration point. However for this to work the screen had to be parallel to the telly which it wasn’t but now is.

Breakfast this morning was a sausage sandwich then a five minute chillax to drink my tea. A short respite from the madness of the world. The madness continues, I’m sure, whilst I respite 🙂

Back at my desk now. Not sure that means much. Most of the world still lies abed or is away walking in Derbyshire, or Scotland or somewhere. In other words still on holiday.

The Davieses are home from our short break on the Wirral. The hire car has been dropped off and THG has gone to the gym for her daily adrenaline fix. I have conference call at ten and a funeral at 12.30. One of the boys from the Rugby Club. Adie is picking me up. That will be the day done.

From what I can see only one person is working and he is the person with whom I have a conference call at ten. Honestly. The things I do! I can ask him what Santa brought him for Christmas. Always assuming he had been a good boy last year obvs. Soon find out.

Aside from that I do have plenty of jobs I could be getting on with. Yesterday I took a look at log splitter hire. Only deal I could find locally cost £90. I think I’m going to stack the rounds tidily and just split them as needed with my purpose built felling axe. You can buy a big bag of logs for £90.

This is probably not how they recommend doing it in “Norwegian Wood” but it is what it is. I have a pair of gloves and a Timberland shirt that would look appropriate on a lumberjack so that will do. Must dig out that book and read it again. Norwegian Wood. The bible of woodcutters everywhere.

We probs have enough logs now to see out the decade. A somewhat dramatic statement but the fire very rarely gets lit. I do like the concept of having a good logpile though. It provides a sense of security. 

Today would be a good day to get a few jobs done in the garden. It is still a bit wet after storm Henge, or whatever it was called, blew in and blew away again but it is bright and sunny. Won’t have time meself obvs, as you know.

Starting to get a bit irritated with Google docs btw. Keeps suggesting grammatical corrections. Ok ok I know it might be right in the strictest sense of the language but who cares nowadays. It’s a bit like when you ask Bard or ChatGPT to write something. The output is very correct but a bit cardboard. I guess I could ask AI to make more use of colloquialisms but I prefer to do it myself.

As a bit of fun I just asked bard to make the above text funkier and got the following suggestions:

Funkifying your text:

1. Dialect and Slang:

• Swap “chillax” for “zoned out” or “spaced out” for a more British vibe.
• Instead of “respite,” try “a quick breather” or “a moment of peace.”
• Ditch “obvs” for “obviously” in most cases, but leave one or two for authenticity.
• Sprinkle in some regional slang – “mebbe” for “maybe,” “bloody” for emphasis, etc.

2. Play with Punctuation and Emojis:

• Use ellipses (…) for dramatic pauses and trailing thoughts.
• Add dashes for quick asides and interjections.
• Throw in some well-placed emojis to emphasize tone and emotions. ☕️ 🪓

3. Vivid Imagery and Humor:

• Instead of “the madness continues,” paint a picture: “the world’s still buzzing with bonkers, I suspect, while I’m here sipping my Earl Grey like a zen sloth.”
• Describe the Davieses’ return with more flair: “The Davieses are back from Wirral, hire car deposited, THG bouncing back from her gym fix like a caffeinated kangaroo.”
• Add a quirky line about the conference call: “Chatting logs with a bloke at 10 who probably got socks for Christmas. Fingers crossed he wasn’t naughty!”

4. Conversational Flow:

• Address the reader directly: “You know I won’t get time for gardening, even on a sun-drenched day like this.”
• Break up text into shorter paragraphs for a more informal feel.
• Use contractions and incomplete sentences to mimic spoken language.

5. Embrace the Imperfect:

• Leave those “grammatical corrections” be! Authenticity over textbook grammar any day.
• Let your personality shine through. Don’t worry about sounding “cardboard” – your unique voice is what makes the writing funky.

By incorporating these elements, you can transform your text into a groovy, relatable, and downright fun read. Remember, the key is to let loose, have fun with language, and express yourself in a way that feels true to you.

Then this is the ChatGPT output

Groovy morning vibes, cats and kittens! Breakfast kicked off with a saucy sausage sandwich, followed by a five-minute chillax sesh to vibe with my tea. A brief escape from the world’s craziness. The madness is probably still doing its thing while I take a break 🙂

Back in the grind at my desk. Not sure if that means a whole lot, though. Most of the world is still catching Zs or strolling through Derbyshire, Scotland, or who knows where. Translation: still on vacay.

The Davies crew is back from our quick jaunt to the Wirral. Ditched the rental wheels, and THG (The Homegirl) is hitting the gym for her daily adrenaline rush. I’ve got a conference call at ten and a funeral at 12:30 for a Rugby Club mate. Adie’s giving me a lift. That’ll wrap up the day.

Seems like the only one pulling the work card is the dude I’m conferencing with at ten. Seriously, the things I do! Maybe I’ll ask him what Santa slipped into his stocking. Assuming, of course, he was on the nice list last year. We’ll see.

Apart from that, I’ve got a stack of tasks waiting for my attention. Checked out log splitter rentals yesterday—local deals are a whopping £90! Thinking I’ll just stack the wood neatly and bust out my purpose-built felling axe when needed. A bag of logs for £90? No, thanks.

Maybe not the “Norwegian Wood” way, but it is what it is. Got my gloves and a Timberland shirt that screams lumberjack chic. Must fish out that book and give it another go. Norwegian Wood—the holy grail of woodcutters.

We’re probably sitting on enough logs to last the decade. Sounds dramatic, but the fireplace rarely sees action. Still, I dig the idea of a solid logpile—it’s like a cozy security blanket.

Today’s prime for knocking out a few garden tasks. It’s a tad soggy post-Storm Henge or whatever it called itself, but the sun’s out. Sadly, no time for me to dig in, as you know.

Getting a tad peeved with Google Docs, by the way. Keeps throwing grammar suggestions my way. I get it, they might be right in the grammar rulebook, but who cares these days? It’s like asking Bard or ChatGPT to spin a yarn—sure, it’s spot-on, but a bit too cardboard. I could ask AI to throw in more slang, but I’d rather bring the funk myself.

V Californian. Anyway gotta go. Need to shave before the funeral

Just for fun I asked ChatGPT to turn that previous text into UK english speak

ChatGPT

Top of the morning, folks! Brekkie kicked off with a cheeky sausage sarnie, followed by a five-minute chillax session to sip on my cuppa. A brief escape from the world’s madness. The craziness is probably still doing its thing while I take a break 🙂

Back in the grind at my desk. Not sure if that means a whole lot, though. Most of the world is still catching some Zs or strolling through Derbyshire, Scotland, or who knows where. Translation: still on holiday.

The Davies crew is back from our quick jaunt to the Wirral. Ditched the rental wheels, and THG (The Homegirl) is hitting the gym for her daily adrenaline rush. I’ve got a conference call at ten and a funeral at 12:30 for a Rugby Club mate. Adie’s giving me a lift. That’ll wrap up the day.

Seems like the only one pulling the work card is the bloke I’m conferencing with at ten. Seriously, the things I do! Maybe I’ll ask him what Santa slipped into his stocking. Assuming, of course, he was on the nice list last year. We’ll see.

Apart from that, I’ve got a stack of tasks waiting for my attention. Checked out log splitter rentals yesterday—local deals are a whopping £90! Thinking I’ll just stack the wood neatly and bust out my purpose-built felling axe when needed. A bag of logs for £90? No, thanks.

Maybe not the “Norwegian Wood” way, but it is what it is. Got my gloves and a Timberland shirt that screams lumberjack chic. Must fish out that book and give it another go. Norwegian Wood—the holy grail of woodcutters.

We’re probably sitting on enough logs to last the decade. Sounds dramatic, but the fireplace rarely sees action. Still, I dig the idea of a solid logpile—it’s like a cosy security blanket.

Today’s prime for knocking out a few garden tasks. It’s a tad soggy post-Storm Henge or whatever it called itself, but the sun’s out. Sadly, no time for me to dig in, as you know.

Getting a tad peeved with Google Docs, by the way. Keeps throwing grammar suggestions my way. I get it, they might be right in the grammar rulebook, but who cares these days? It’s like asking Bard or ChatGPT to spin a yarn—sure, it’s spot-on, but a bit too cardboard. I could ask AI to throw in more slang, but I’d rather bring the funk myself.

This morning we wave goodbye to Bebington and set the autopilot for Lincoln. A few tasks to complete first including making the sandwiches and then the obligatory visit to the cemetery en route.

Wirral was wet. Most of the country has been wet I guess. Wet, wet, wet, wet, wet. Fortunately last night THG, who is an observant of dry January, drove to the pub and back. No TV in the Rose and Crown, which is one of the reasons it is such a great place, but plenty of punters were following the darts on their phones. A cry went out when the kid won.

For a 16 year old to get to the World Darts Championships final he must have spent most of his time practising. However it is difficult to apply the label “misspent youth” in this case considering his winnings from this tournament have already hit two hundred thousand pounds.

I’m crap at darts although not as crap as I am at snooker. It really annoys me how good the pros are at snooker. Snooker and darts seem to go together. Birds of a feather. Pool and darts as well.

We have a dartboard at home although it is pretty inaccessible in what used to be the playroom but is now a store. We did have a pool table but that was disposed of due to lack of use. Also it took a lot of space on the landing.

After finishing my degree I hung around Bangor for six months. Work seemed to be an unattractive proposition. I recall having a pool challenge with Gwyn Bere. First to twenty, loser bought the winner a meal.

The tourney took place over a few weeks and didn’t start well. I lost the first eight games. This was not good as being on the dole I could ill afford to buy GB dinner. Gradually I caught up and on the last day it reached nineteen frames apiece. The last game took nearly an hour. Both of us were afraid to lose. I emerged victorious and a gang of us repaired to an Italian restaurant on Bangor High Street for the celebratory dinner.

I played a lot of pool in those days but now it’s about once a decade. I can’t imagine I am any good anymore.

…

For reference the milkman came at five thirty five this morning and left two pints of semi skimmed.

It is Tuesday 2nd January. This date was brought to you by whoever invented the calendar. I could look it up but don’t want to know badly enough. I should know.

In reality different people were probably given different periods to look after, or different days. You can invent Tuesdays or you can have the third millennium etc. Bet they didn’t give much thought to Tuesday the second of January twenty twenty four. 

2024! In the days when I used to write dates, on cheques maybe, remember them? it would take me a while to get used to writing down the new year. Not a very long while but a while. Doesn’t happen anymore. It’s not often we have to write down a date really. Enough of this date nonsense. Moving on.

Already been busy this morning. Called Enterprise Car & Van Hire in Lincoln to extend our rental by a day. Totes got the amount of time we needed the car wrong. It’s only thirty eight quid a day. It’s a small car and won’t wade through 97cm of water but that is a risk we had to take. It’s all they had. I suppose many people have to manage with cars that can’t ford rivers or climb mountains. I suppose.

Seems a calmish day out. Miserable but calm. The lawn outside the cottage is covered in the leaves that once lived on the now naked trees above. The trees don’t look right without leaves. No sign of any walkers. Maybs they don’t come past our gaff. Days are non days at this time of year. Nothing going for them.

Today is another day of seeing family and friends. One of them is a surprise visit to George and Barbara which came as a result of THG texting them asking where in the world they were, thinking they were on holiday somewhere exotic. Turns out they haven’t yet left the country. Obvs waiting for that slow boat. Find out later. Saved me another trip to the museums. 

I like the idea of a slow boat. What’s the hurry?

Blwyddyn newydd dda i chi,
Ac i bawb sydd yn y ty,
Dyma yw fy nymuniad i,
Blwyddyn newydd dda i chi.

Went to bed at the usual ten pee em last night only to be woken up by noise outside the house at just before midnight. I say a noise. It was more like a full scale battle. Bombardment. Never heard so many fireworks. Didn’t look out the window. Only lasted a few mins and then died down allowing me to continue my sleep.

A slow breakfast is planned. This, fyi, will include a grapefruit I picked up in the M&S Food Hall yesterday. We arrived early at M&S, mistakenly thinking it opened at ten o’clock. Reality was ten thirty. At ten past ten there was already a small queue!!

Made more sense to sit in the car as it was cold. By ten thirty the queue was mahoosive. Who’d a thunk? The shop opened and the queue emptied into it closely followed by us. It was v busy but we found all we needed plus the grapefruit and four pints of milk, paid for our goods and left.

Off to West Kirby today as it is one of THG’s fave places. Back to watch the darts and then a takeaway from the Alam Balti. We are going for Set Meal A at £28. This includes 2 papadums & chutney, onion bhaji (4), seekh kebab (2), chicken tikka masala, chicken tikka balti or lamb tikka balti, Bombay potatoes, naan & 2 pilau rice.

More food than we might have ordered if selecting from the menu but a good deal. Our alternative would have been

onion bhaji £3.90
chicken tikka masala £7.50
lamb tikka balti £9.90
pilau rice £2.50
plain naan £2.00

total £25.80

So you can see it makes sense to go for the set menu 🙂We can always take any leftovers home to Lincoln.

You will already know from the opening Welsh lines that today is New Years Day. Twenty twenty three was a good year despite all the crap going on in the world. I am looking forward to twenty twenty four. Look after yourselves and HNY.

Oh and THG made the tea this morning fair play to her.

…

West Kirby was a bit of cobweb blow but nothing open. No caffs. People just walking along the new promenade which is v nice. We blew on to Thurstaston Beach but twas a very short visit. No hope whatsoever of finding any parking. Back now in Port Sunlight and settled in front of the darts with a cup of tea and a crumpet. What’s not to like?

The Wirral is not at its nicest at this time of year. Nowhere is, I guess. Dull skies above cold, dirty roads. If I lived here I would probably opt to go to my villa in Barbados. Assuming I had one. I would probs have to buy one. I’d prefer somewhere near the med. Dilemma innit. The med is too hot in summer. Plus I don’t believe in holiday homes. I’d have a flat in London but missed the boat on that one.