On Running Out Of Tea...With A Dash Of Brexit Thrown In

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I was going to chat about the worse Welsh politician of the week. Clue it's a member of the government administration (not much of a clue I know so many contenders). But you'll have to wait for that till tomorrow. Know you can't wait.

Anyway whilst I go to bed at midnight after working the afternoon/evening shift I wake up at around six am on a school day as (given that the wife leaves for work beforehand) I take daughter to school. She gets up at seven....or some time long past that....eventually....she's a teenager. So waking up at six allows me to wind myself into the day.

Whilst I try to go continental with croissants if I can (yes Brexiteers I prefer croissants). I've tried and failed to go coffee continental with the hot beverage. It has to be tea. Not fancy tea. Just a normal teabag thrown into a mug and then milk added (it's the milk added last that makes me a rebel you know). It's warm comforting and thrust quenching.

So imagine my surprise when I saw there was no tea bags. No back-up tea bags. Not even the boxes of tea bags I've stored for Brexit. Where is the tea?!!!

I wake up wife. It's important after all. Where is the tea I ask her. In order, the boxes have been used up by us and taken to her work. I mean doesn't this woman know the meaning of the word stocking up?

It's 6:20am. There's only one option. I put decent clothes on, flatten my hair so it doesn't look like silvery spiders fighting and drive the short way to Sully One Stop. I get the tea bags, and milk, and drink for work later.

I also noticed this.

One For The Brexit Stockpile

I should've got more actually and will do so later.

The shop assistant is exactly what I'm not at that moment. Young, pretty, smart and way too alert for this time of the morning. I mention the latter part to her. She responds by saying it's thanks to coffee. See you may be young, pretty and smart but if you don't know the glories of a simple cup of tea then you're flawed.

But at least tea is bought. Order is now restored. But it got me to thinking. In the future of Britain if the long dark hard Brexit of the soul arrives it would panic over the shortage of foodstuffs but without the way to quickly resolve it. Things may be grim now. It has the potential of being even more so soon.

Until the next time.

The Formula For Animal Books Non Animal Enthusiasts Would Like Is Simple: It Can't Be Just About Animals

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

My library choices in the small place in Sully I go to are weird I know. On one side the first thing is a display cabinet with the latest books they have. On the other side is their non fiction where so far I've reached their animal tomes. Which is why the books I randomly pick are so varied as I've said before because I'm reading as many "reasonable" books from there as I can.

(when I say "reasonable" I could have picked "How to Raise Chickens" when picking the latest book. But given that a) I live in an apartment and b) I wouldn't even consider raising chickens unless there was a plague wiping out most of the world's population and I needed to farm to survive)

Which explains why the next book turned out to be this.

Chandi - Tina Humphrey

This is the book of a dog who was on Britain's Got Talent and it's owner. Regular readers will know that I'm not a domestic wolf a phobic so I would normally have avoided this like the plague. But cometh the library death wish cometh the man.

The book was published in 2012. Something I wanted to check the moment Ms Humphrey advised that when she was younger one of her big thrills was going on Jim'll Fix it!

Now I'm not going to be harsh on this. Given that clearly I'm not it's audience. But on reading I realised that something I mentioned it passing before is probably a rough rule with regard to animal books for people like me and as the title of the post exists it can't just be about animals.

For me the most moving  section of this book was when Ms Humphey's discusses the death of parents. That was truly impressive and emotional. But for the most part we're reading about finding a dogs, training dogs and going on competitions with dogs so for people like me it's going on and on about it gets waring.

Emma Gray's book about being a shepherd in a remote farm in Northumbria or Franoise Malby-Anthony on running a safari park alone in a foreign country neither was just about animals. Of course animals have to play a substantial part in these books but there are other factors that make it interesting to the non animal enthusiast.

So if you love animals the book would perfect. Otherwise best left on the library shelf.

Until the next time.

On Books: Read,Borrowed And Bought. Including A Booksale And Why I Might Have Underestimated Bernard Cornwell

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Now that the World Cup is slowly drawing to a close probably the only good thing is that there's more time to go back to reading. I must admit in the past month or so to having slowed up on it whilst there was the distraction of the global footy.

But now normal service has been resumed. And let's start with the book I've read since I last chatted on the subject.

Bernard Cornwell - Fools and Mortals

Now I slight digression is called for to explain why I've never read a Bernard Cornwell book before. In the mid nineties I made the mistake of watching a programme in the TV series of his Sharpe novels. All about the adventures of a British soldier in the Napoleonic wars. And to be honest in my early thirties it just didn't seem that interesting anymore whereas previously I would enjoy them. Only later did the explanation come clear.

I was growing old.

Also though as I've mentioned in this blog I read a C S Forester Hornblower novel about a year back and didn't like it. It's patriotism was over the top. The sort a member of UKIP would love. So not for me.

So Mr Cornwell's books have been avoided....until now. And let me say I loved Fools and Mortals. Set in Elizabethan times it follows a (literally) Shakespearean theatre company in the days where female roles were played by men. One of whom turns out to be the main character. William Shakespeare's younger brother.

Did Shakespeare have a brother? I don't know and it doesn't matter. It's a historical entertainment. Indeed I'll go as far as to say that as an entertainment it's the best book I've read this year.

I might still be right about his Sharpe novels. But reading Fools and Mortals has made me realise that should opportunity come I should give them a go.

I mentioned in my last post that I was going to spend part of Saturday in a book sale in Sully where I'm currently renting. I haven't bought that many books since we moved out of Bridgend so wasn't going to pass away the chance here.

(Another quick aside - Still renting at the moment whilst looking for "the place" - We thought we'd found a house and had an offer accepted only to drop out when the survey revealed a house that didn't so much need updating as upending and demolishing. It was that bad.)

It was held in The Old School Hall, now used for community activities.

Signs and Balloons For Books...I Love It

There was a good selection on display.

Full On Trestle Table Action

Now the price range was 1 book for a pound or six for five pounds. The intention was to buy six. The idea was two were those suggested by my favourite book podcast Backlisted, Two were going to be Penguin Paperbacks and two were going to be "Welsh" books as I've recently realised that I've not been chatting about Welsh books and their authors and this will change.

So the first book was:

Raymond Chandler -The Big Sleep

This is the sort of book I feel I know about even though I haven't read it. Certainly a book I should've read by now. So soon a literary bucket list will be ticked (An author on Backlisted by the way).

Now I only bought one "Welsh" book in the end. Could've bought more but wanted to avoid books by Catrin Collier or Dylan Thomas or about rugby.

(To be fair I've yet to get round to the audiobook I've got of Dylan Thomas' poetry - which I think is better listened to than read. And was tempted by a biography of Richard Burton. It's hardback brick length put me off. When we eventually more somewhere I will seek it out)

So it came to this.

Oliver Balch - Under The Tump 

Then I saw a Penguin Paperback.

Honor Tracy - Mind You I've Said Nothing

"Forays In The Irish Republic" is the description to this travel book. Let's just hope it's not cliché Ireland.

The next one was suggested again by Backlisted

Elizabeth Taylor - Mrs Palfrey At The Claremont.

The next does not fall into any of the categories I intended. Still....as I'm a fan

Clive James - Even As We Speak

And finally. Recommended by Backlisted and apparently David Bowie.

Spike Milligan - Puckoon

All for £5....

And that's not all. Went to the nearby library afterwards. The next book on the non fiction pile to read there was...

Jo Hardy - Tales From A Young Vet

All I can say is. If she can't get me to be interested like James Herriot could then she's failed.

No pressure then.

Until the next time.

The Case For A Twenty Mile Per Hour Speed Limit In Sully And Beyond

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today....and that especially includes you, Vale of Glamorgan council.

Currently we're renting near Sully, a small village between Penarth and Barry Town. A pleasant place but if the signs I notice driving through are of any guide there are apparently two issues which have caused anger amongst the permanent residents. One are the proposed housing developments for the village. On this issue I'm currently on the fence. If only because I don't know what type of developments are being proposed.

But the other, whose sign I've only just seen today, is trying to persuade you to reduce the speed limit for vehicles that enter the village to twenty miles per hour. On this issue the answer should be obvious. On this you should agree with the people.

Now for the moment let's ignore the main road of the village (South Road) and concentrate on most of the other roads. Because those of us who've driven round the area know full well that there really is no reason to drive around there at thirty mph. These roads are generally relatively short, and a lot of them windy and thin.

It's important to remember that we're talking here about the roads that are in the village and not those that could go to the outside of it (such as Sully Road) so essentially the specific long stretch of road that we would need to speak about is South Road. Home to the convenience store, the library, the post office and the playing fields.

In seemingly empty traffic it's not impossible to reach thirty miles per hour on this road. Whilst there is a set of traffic lights there's not that many other things that I recall would curtail a person's speed behind the wheel along this road. Now if you're driving on the other side of the road to the convenience store and there's a delivery truck on that side it means that the lane the truck is parked in is blocked you won't see until the last minute the teenager suddenly running across the road. I am old enough to remember the ads that explained that you have more chance surviving being hit by a car doing twenty than doing thirty miles per hour.

So Vale Of Glamorgan Council how about reducing the speed limit in the village to twenty miles per hour? It's simple, cheap and effective...and you know full well that if you don't do it then it will take one child/teenager's death to change your mind. So how about doing it now?

And while you're at it (though I can't say I've done the research) I'm sure there are roads in Barry Town and Penarth that this could help as well.

You know it makes sense.

Until the next time.

Reputations: Both In Book and Welsh Labour Form

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well yesterday I went to the small Sully library. As you remember my intention is to read every book in that place barring those which at present seems completely stupid for me to do so (for example given that I currently live in an apartment gardening books).

Borrowed two books. This was one of them.

Nigel Farrell - An Island Parish

But the other book I borrowed, and the one I actually finished early this morning, was this:

David Walter/Robert Younger - The Reputation Game

Let me say now that this is not a book designed with me in mind. On reading it I know that it's for go getting young business professionals, of which I'm definitely not. I will also say that it is readable. There are stories to tell and it does so with skill.

But...

on the odd occasions I've read this sort of business/self help book (very rare,can't remember why) it always strikes me as being all style and of a substance I already knew beforehand. Ultimately here your reputation depends on how you conduct yourself. It's common sense really (now that should be a title of a self-help book).

Speaking of reputations let's chat about Welsh Labour. Throughout the time I've done this blog I've argued that their reputation in Wales is based on past glories and is used to hide an arrogant and incompetent present.

Well as I've discussed previously a related issue that the suicide of Carl Sargeant has brought to national attention are allegations of bullying within the Welsh Labour government. Whether true or not I don't know. But it has been led credence by the fact that they have been made by an ex Labour minister and a political adviser, as well as seemingly contradictory answers by the First Minister.

Next Wednesday a vote is due to take place on the Senedd as to whether or not the Assembly should hold an enquiry into the issue. Baring in mind here that it's not just an issue for Welsh Labour (bad as bullying would be in any large organisation) but also for Welsh parliament as if true this was the atmosphere Wales was being controlled by.

Welsh Labour will have to vote for this enquiry. For if they vote against it then the charge will be levelled against them that they are hiding something, even if the allegations are false. In politics as in life, perception counts for a great deal.

But let's assume for the sake of argument that the allegations of bullying are correct. This will damage Welsh Labour far more than Carl Sargeant's tragic death, which only threatens First Minister's Carwyn Jones' career. If these allegations are true then there will be many people involved both as perpetrators and victims. It will take Welsh Labour as an organisation a long time to sort it out.

But also the reputation of Welsh Labour will change as voters will see the current party of Welsh government being shown to be run like a school playground. It will be riven as people would take sides some would have to resign if they are revealed to be "bullies" and you can see television interviews with the "bullied".

Of course even if he was unaware of all of this Carwyn Jones would have to resign.

So you see this issue has the potential of being a slow burner. Labour's "reputation" would be in tatters which would, should, allow Plaid Cymru to make inroads into the Welsh Labour's core vote (let's hope so).

Until the next time.

The Insomniac's Random Wanderings Online Continues: The GMT Post

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well my body clock says I've woken up at three o'clock in the morning. Bad enough you might think. Except the clocks went back whilst I was sleeping, which means it's actually two twenty nine as I'm writing this. Another group then who should campaign that "British Summer Time" (pause here to reflect how laughable those words sounds) are insomniacs.

So the internet wanderings begin

What do I do first? I update my nectar card to put my rental address in. What does it say? It closed the card over a month ago!!! What madness is this? Seemed to have added points from the petrol station on a regular basis without it suddenly saying "Sorry old chap I'm dead".

You might remember that I attacked not so Great Western Railway over their attitude to bilingual signs on their trains. Well I had a comment from Mr or Ms Anonymous asking why was I so concerned now and what about CrossCountry trains and National Express coaches.

My answer to Mr/Ms Anonymous was that as I mentioned in the post I've not taken a Great Western train for a long time, and felt compelled to put fingers to keyboard now by their attitude to such requests. Suggesting let's not forget that a service from London to Swansea is not a dedicated South Wales line.

I've never been on a CrossCountry train, but the point re National Express was a fair one. So I've tweeted National Express asking for their recorded announcements (when the coach is in Wales) to be bilingual. As they say on the TV watch this space.

The station I'm listening to is RTE Lyric FM. For the record taken as a whole my favourite classical radio station as it's the most relaxed and less snobby one that I know.

Here's a random three thirty two in the morning thought. Will golf lose whatever popularity it has because no one wants to be associated with something Donald Trump likes to do?

Four seventeen am:Outside there is the extremely loud noise of a helicopter. Normally at this time it means that the police are after someone. More people in Sully/Barry Town will be woken up now.

Five Twenty Seven am:Apparently a Tory MP, Mark Garnier has admitted making his secretary buy sex toys and that he will have to take it all "on the chin". Kinky sex toys then.

Five Thirty Three am: Time for breakfast. Run out of croissants so cereal will have to do.

Six Seventeen am: My eyes are feeling droopy. Time to give sleep another go.

Until the next time.

The Random Jottings Of The Jet Lag Without Flying That's Shift Work

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

For the past five days I've been doing the early morning - afternoon shift at work. Now many people do such work. I'm in no way special. And it's no way a complaint, needs must after all. Still I had written down some jottings that I hope would be interesting.

I've admitted in this block that I'm not the most sociable of people. In that regard shift work is perfect. For you have a reasonable excuse not to act sociably. "Do you want to come with us and see my brother?" says the wife. No because I'll be asleep sometime around seven thirty. No arguments will ensue.

However once waking up at three am and after a shower you will find that the world, both the immediate and distant, have been happily going on without you. That feels disconcerting. You're superfluous to requirements.

(Now I know that the above two paragraphs make no sense. But both are true and anyway life sometimes makes no sense)

I've been in bed at around seven thirty in the evening and you know what I feel a little excited when I say goodnight to wife/daughter and then go to the bedroom. Can't say why.

Sleep is rarely easy when you're on the early shift. I find myself restless. As if despite having two alarms on the go I'll sleep through them and be late for work. That's never happened. If anything I've woken up earlier than the alarm because I can't sleep.

When you wake up you have to do all the things you need to do in the bathroom, to dress and make yourself some breakfast without disturbing wife/daughter. It's not easy. I find myself changing my clothes in the living room/kitchen part of the apartment. It seemed I found out later that was not as quiet as hoped for. Not really bothered. Wife can turn to the other side of the pillow and instantly doze off.

I look out at the apartment block around me. Judging purely on weather the lights are on it appears that I'm the only person awake.

The journey time from the village of Sully to Bridgend is about forty minutes. A large part of it is on the A48 from Cardiff. During the day it's actually a pleasant enough road to travel through with green fields and small villages (though you wonder for how longer with the signs suggesting new housing is on it's way. Not I suspect for people who truly need it). At around five o'clock though it's just one area of darkness with the occasional brightness of electric light.

And speaking of darkness. You learn that there are degrees of the stuff. The darkness when I'm returning from the afternoon evening shift when the world is still awake and preparing to slumber is different to that on a weekday morning which is in itself different to Saturday and even more so on Sunday. You might be working, but it's Sunday and the world wants its extra hour of sleep thankyou very much.

Work is basically the same as the afternoon-evening shift. I learn as a quick digression that my work colleagues are also having this early flu bug that wife/daughter/mother got. I've not been affected which means to repeat myself means I'm either a) Superman b) typhoid Mary or C) the germs are gathering together to attack me.

I leave work at two in the afternoon. As I make the forty minute return journey I feel I've rejoined the planet for a while. However my body clock is about two hours ahead of the actual time. Consequently I'm not really all there. I'm out of my groove. Have had domestics with the wife/daughter during these periods (including this one) where I know that being in this jet lag state has not helped. I'm just too out of sorts and irritable to enter rational debate.

An example: Daughter has had her hair cut and restyled. She's proud of it. Wife is happy. My response, (baring in mind it's shown to me when I've returned from work jet lagged) is "I don't care as long it doesn't look stupid. It doesn't look stupid. Now I want to make myself lunch".

Not I would admit my proudest moment as a parent, though admittedly true, but if this was any other shift my answer would have been more diplomatic.

But until the next time the early morning shift is now over.

Until the next time.

Charles Dickens Can Write. Plus the latest Library Visit

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it's been a while I know but after a great deal of distractions, including other books to read and, let's face it we're not talking about a slim volume here but anyway David Copperfield has at last been finished.

It is not an easy book to judge. Though I'll start by saying that I did not like it as much as Great Expectations or A Christmas Carol if only because though a novel it seems to be less of a plot and more of a biography. There were moments where we seemed to be led on a wide diversion before going back to the central story.

There are moments, rather as in Great Expectations, when you don't really like David Copperfield the adult,thinking that he's rather stuck up.Then, almost instantly you suddenly become his chief cheerleader in what happens to him ("Give me a D...."). And that's a skill, for the moment when your brain started to wander away from the story Dickens drew you back

So I would say it's a guarded thumbs up. Though I would be surprised if anybody said it was their favourite Dickens.

The next book to reads on the great pile of ebook unread is Main Street by Sinclair Lewis.

Went to the library and got two books. This was the first:

Carole Matthews - The Cake Shop In The Garden

I think it wins the "book cover illustrating what you're going to get award" for this year. Including the praise by Mary Berry.

The other book was:

David Attenborough - Life Stories

Given I've recently praised the sequal I'm expecting great things from this.

Until the next time.

In Which I'm Trapped In My Car Due To Dogs....Mostly On Leads

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

What people who don't have phobias realise, is that you are just going out and living your life (in my case as quietly as possible) when something happens which makes you act abnormally in a situation which to others as normal as breathing.

As regular readers will know I have a phobia of dogs caused by a childhood trauma. And, though I will never claim to be the most sociable of men anyway, it has caused me, for example not to visit the house of certain people of my acquaintance specifically because they keep a canine as a pet.

If I'm on the street and see somebody with a dog towards me and there's no easy spot to get out of the way of the way of the domestic wolf I'll cross the street rather have any chance of it's teeth coming into close contact with any part of my anatomy.

Which leads me to yesterday.

I wasn't at work and needed to pay this month's instalment of the council tax at the Sully post office a short drive from our rented apartment. Being on the main road in the village had to park on a side road nearby.

Sully is, as I've explained before by the sea. Indeed in the normal suburban road I parked in it was there facing me. What I didn't, and of course should have realised was that this closeness is attractive to canine fans, as they can go on long walks along its coastline with [insert name of the wolf here].

So I've parked and just about to go out when I suddenly notice a woman with four, possibly five dogs walking on the pavement. My assumption is that she's a dog walker though for all I know she's a dog lover. My guess is for the former, given how uncomfortable she seems in controlling the canines. Incidentally if I am right she's not the only dog walker in the village. I noticed an poster advertising dogwalking services as I entered the Post Office (it was a different woman to the one I saw in the road).

Anyway I'm being ahead of myself. I'm in the car. Indeed I'm staying in the car until the pack pass my way. I'm sweating. She puts them in the back of her hatchback and drives off. I'm safe....

However along the street then walks a middle aged couple with a black terrier (without lead). Still in my car then.

They pass by...good. I'm out....until I see another Terrier , small, white haired and on a long lead being controlled by a small white haired woman.

This is a conspiracy.

But at last they've gone. Fine I'm out. Walk along to the corner of the road when the middle aged couple I mentioned return. The black terrier stops, and looks at me. I stop. Scared.

"Come to mummy". says the woman as she passes by. The terrier looks at me again. As if deciding what to do, to snack or not to snack. Eventually the power of "mummy" wins as it decides to follow its mistress.

I walk towards the post office, coming towards me is the small white terrier on the long lead. I don't know what to do but cross the road. Becoming a traffic obstruction immediately. No matter. Not near the dog now.

Eventually I reach the Post Office, pay the bill and get back to the car without further incidents. I feel as if I have to catch my breath.

Phobias eh? Makes you scared to go out of the house. Mind you that's a different phobia in itself.

Until the next time.

The Batsman, The Penguin......And Other Cricket Moments

Hello there, Hope you're feeling well today.

Me? Let's just say I've started writing this at 4:02am on a bank holiday Monday morning. Insomnia still rules.

But let's talk about yesterday and when hunting for a thing to do discovered that close to where we are renting at the moment there was going to be a cricket match near where I live. No flashy pyrotechnics and music of the twenty twenty. Just an amateur friendly between a few teams to while away the warm British summer Sunday. For once the cliché became reality.

The home team was the Barry Wanderers Cricket Club, who apparently were living up to their name given that we were in the nearby village of Sully and in a late change the I suppose showbiz divas of South East Wales Cricket that is Barry West End.

And just to explain how good the weather was. Before I took my spot I photographed this of the nearby sea.

Remember this is South Wales Not The South of France

I walked to the spot and took my place.

Third tree from the right

So the classic British summer scene was in place.

The other of course being pouring rain

Before I chat about the game properly I should mention that brought this with me for the tea interval.

William Faulkner - Go Down,Moses

Not only will I claim to be the first man to bring a William Faulkner novel to a cricket game but you'll note that amongst the Batsmen there's a Penguin (and if you think I brought this book down specifically for this moment......well yes).

The Wanderers were the first to bat in this forty over game. Leaving the divas of Barry West End to field. There was motivational noises of encouragement throughout. Plus the occasional other comment.

"The ball's heavier than when I was in France for the holiday."

"Well that's French cricket" (Bet he voted for Brexit).

Action came early. The first wicket was caught and bowled for six. 6-1

More encouragement "Go on Rees!" (or is that "Go on Rhys!"?) . As he was fielding.

It has to be said that the teams consisted of men with a wide age range. This is a good thing. It also explained this remark.

"He looks like Brian Close". It was a statement that aged the speaker. And as I understood it it aged me as well.

After the first overs by the fast bowlers of the team along came the spinners, including "the Indian George Clooney" that was shouted to him by his team mates. How this would make him bowl better I couldn't say.

At the other end was a big balding guy.....who was rather good. This I mentioned to the fielder who'd moved to the position near where I was.

To Wait For One Ball In A Cricket Game Hoping You Won't Drop It

The guy in the picture (who I think was called Andy - more of him later) tells me that the bowlers name was Des and he was a good all rounder. Proven in that he'd got the second Wanderers wicket bowled. 56-2.

Now for insect moments. Given that it was a hot summer's day they were all likely to come out including the ahh....




and the "get it off me!"




Because of where they were situated there were nearby some generators surrounded by a fence. Invariably a shot went into this.

And of course it was locked. No matter. "Andy" was on hand with a hosepipe and was able to move the ball towards him so he could reach it. Cue the jokes which I'll just leave to your imagination.

A ball is caught 91-3.

Our friend Andy then bowls. Another ball is caught. 123-4.

A further wicket as a ball is flicked stylishly......straight to the grateful hands of the fielder 136-5.

Two further wickets tumble. It's 163 for 7. However the score has been ticking along and in the last few overs the Wanderers move up a gear with boundaries all over the place.

The innings finishes at 213 for 7. Unsure how to call this. But for an interlude let's see another picture of the sea by Sully.

But now back to the game.

And you'll notice that I've taken a different position

The West End innings commences. The first bowler for the Wanderers is a young man called Mark. Shouts of "Marco" go around the pitch and, most surprisingly of all Roman emperor "Marcus Aurelius"The home team then winning the battle of team banter. Going all cultural and BBC4 on us.

Quick aside: The game revealed I needed a new pair of trainers.

A score is speedily built up. 38 when the first wicket is bowled. Cue our friend Andy to take centre stage.

"Take it easy on a grumbling Tummy". Probably the most confusing and disturbing statement of the afternoon is then shouted out.

Apart from when stalled by a couple of Wanderers spinners (of which I'll come back to later) our friend Andy and his partner decide it's time for Barry West End Showtime. Boundaries occur thick and fast and with ease. Including.....

Boys were asked to find the ball somewhere behind those trees.

They played on with the spare balls in the table in the clubhouse....at that moment it meant there was two balls left.

Our friend Andy had a missed run out and a shot that was skied upwards but not caught. Another ball went through the wicketkeeper ...4 byes. Luck it would appear was with our friend Andy.

(A quick aside the Wanderers captain was the wicket keeper. During the match he changed his position so that someone else took that spot. A brave thing to have done)

The score moved to 159 for one. The encouragement and geeing up by the Wanderers team seemed lukewarm. There could only be one result....until.....our friend Andy gets caught out.

His partner continues in the showtime mode. But he tries for a sweep shot and like Dick Van Dyke's cockney accent misses. Bowled. 180 for three.

Then another wicket. 180 for four.....you don't think?

A man called Timmo is brought on to bowl and gets a wicket. Bringing on "Father Christmas" was apparently the answer. 190 for five. You remember the two spinners who halted the onward march of the early order batsman for the West End? Their work has come back to bite the divas on the backside. As there were just two overs left.

Down to the wire

Rees (or is it Rhys?) is bowled. 198 for six. Two overs become one and one over becomes too much thanks to Wanderers tight bowling and fielding. They were tired when they appeared losing but the prospect for victory motivated them.

202 for six. Wanderers win

It was free incidentally and certainly enjoyable. If I can watch another match this season I will.

Thankyou Barry Wanderers Cricket Club and Barry West End Cricket Club. It was a good, enjoyable summer fun.

Until the next time.

Cecelia Ahern vs Marian Keyes.....Not Even Close

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Regular readers of this blog will know that since I've joined the library service (staring with the one in Sully) since moving out of Bridgend to the Vale of Glamorgan I've started on an attempt to read every "relevant" adult book there (when I say relevant I mean not reading books that would be stupid for me to open, such as keeping dogs when I have a phobia of the domestic wolves).

However when it comes to fiction it's simple. I intend to read every book unless it's in large print. Which is the reason why as a fifty three year old man the Cecelia Ahern novel How To Fall In Love comes into my hands.

Unlike most fifty three year old men reading Cecelia Ahern for the first time I do have a writer to compare her with. The same regular readers will know that I've read books by Marian Keyes (I won't bore you with how here but if you click Marian Keyes on the labels tag things will be explained). On the surface to compare both writers seem fair. They after all female Irish writers marketed as chick lit.

But...

Before the but I should acknowledge that Cecelia Ahern came to this comparison with two main disadvantages. One is that I'm a fan of Marian Keyes. It's my belief that she is a far more important writer than the chick lit covers do her credit for. I suspect that she'll be one of those authors though popular in her lifetime literary critics will only "discover" decades after her death.

The other disadvantage is that I've read three Marian Keyes books and this was my first by Cecelia Ahern, so that does need to be noted.

So you should not be surprised that when I finished I still felt that Marian Keyes is better.

But (back to that) what was a surprise is how much I actually hated the Ahern novel. In fact a quarter of the way through was seriously considering breaking " the reader's code" (that follows the Mastermind principle that once a book is opened "I've started so I'll Finish").

From the beginning it's badly written. No. Very badly written. So many I's in the first chapter for example an English teacher would have thrown it out if produced as homework. But here it is in black and white assaulting my eyes with it's awfulness. Marian Keyes on the other hand can simply write in a style that perhaps is best described as hope mixed with cynicism and humour. (Don't look for any humour in the Ahern, trust me on that).

Sometimes as a reader you don't notice bad writing if a good tale is being told. Not here. Never Fall In Love is basically a meandering journey into a coma with a few jolts along the way.You had a good idea from the cover what you were going to expect. As for the characters...I didn't really care. I'd challenge anyone to read a Marian Keyes book and say they were bored.

Ahern's novel is set in Ireland, mainly Dublin. But really it was so bland you could easily transfer it to anywhere you think of. Never been to Ireland, let alone Dublin, but you feel instantly that you're there in the Marian Keyes books I've read. If somebody tried to film the Ahern it would be a made for TV movie set probably in Boston that you find after NCIS on a weekday afternoon. For Keyes I suspect a RTE/BBC co production would appear to be the most suitable.

So what can I say? Next time you're thinking of reading a Cecelia Ahern book read Marian Keyes first. That way you can say you've read quality.

Incidentally the latest library book I've borrowed is.....

Bruce Chatwin - In Patagonia

One of those books I've been meaning to read for a while but never got round to it. Now it's time has come.

Until the next time.

No Football On This Blog For A While, Time To Be Very Sully

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I am conscious that it's been a while since football has made an appearance in this blog. There's a number of reasons for that, working most Saturdays, house hunting and the lack where we live at the moment of a decent internet signal on the TV for BT Sport have all conspired to reduce my footy watching for a while.

However where I live now I'm conscious of a number of football teams that play relatively nearby. Of those that I'm aware of there's Barry Town United AFC, Dinas Powys FC, Ely Rangers FC and Cardiff City. Neither have I forgotten Newport County AFC, Penybont FC and the team I've decided to follow as much as possible Ton Pentre FC. There seemed to be more opportunities to spectate now.

For this Wednesday however in the early evening for a six fifteen kick off I was off to see the nearest team to where we're renting at the moment, Sully Sports FC. Part of the South Wales Alliance Premier League, as I'm sure you knew already. The ground is a tolerable walking distance from where we live, but the journey the journey is awkward so I drove there.

So then part of the Vale of Glamorgan, no hint of my previous seventeen years in the Bridgend area, if it wasn't for their opponents, Pencoed Athletic FC, and I think you can guess where they're from.

To reach the ground you go through the car park, down the path where it's advised that children are welcome but not dogs (fine by me). Everything I should also mention was free.

You then approach the stand but cannot help looking at the pitch first. Or rather beyond it.

The Sea,The Sea

I mentioned to a few people in conversation that this must be the only ground in Britain where the ball boys are also lifeguards. They don't get the joke.

It's then I'm conscious that I've underdressed. The skies were blue when I'd left but now are black. I'm wearing a short sleeve shirt. It's cold, windy and I'm an idiot.

Anyway to the stand....past the container.




At the stand found I had company.

I'd no idea whatsoever

Someone on Twitter told me that it was a Horcrux. Google tells me that it comes from Harry Potter which regular readers will know I've never read out of principle (It's for kids! I'm fifty three). So I'm still none the wiser.

I brought What If? by Randall Munroe to read during the break. But as you will see as I go on I didn't have time to look it. So all I'll claim is to be the first person to have brought a copy of a Randall Monroe book to a Welsh football game. No I'll go further I'll claim to be the first person to have brought a science book to a Welsh football game.

History In The Making

So there was I, a man in a short sleeved shirt in unshort sleeved shirt weather. Only now do I realise how I looked like the weird oddball that evening.

About to Start

So the match, along with my ninety minutes plus of double pneumonia began.

It wasn't long before a man I'd assumed to be the Pencoed Athletic manager was shouting at a player for "quicker communication". He being blessed with never having the need to use a microphone to be heard. Indeed the entire three man management team seemed very emotional. Constantly waving their hands to show where the ball should've gone. Except that is when the instruction was to "open this way" when oddly enough the hand gestures were conspicuous by their absence.

The Sully management team consisted of a small man and his bodyguard type assistant who was the one mainly shouting out orders. Given that he'd the look of a man who would have been the maniac cop in any TV series interrogation of the bad guy I'm sure the Sully team carried out the orders as well as possible.

The Management....Sully are in Red

With about ten minutes of the first half to go. The Sully number ten had noticed that the Pencoed goalkeeper was out of his line and lobbed a ball over him. It was dramatic. It was a goal. It was one nil Sully.

A Few Stills From The Game....Yes I was That Close

Grey clouds Up There

More Goalmouth Action

And it stayed like that until five minutes before half time. Where if I understood it right from the Pencoed fans by me Ash crossed and Dunc connected to score. Could have been the other way round. Forgot that. And as to how, a shot or a header .....no idea....the Pencoed Management team were in the way.

One all is how it stayed at the end of the first half. It all seemed very fair to me. Sully seemed like the team with the skill but Pencoed were the more physical. It made predicting the outcome difficult.

For me though at that moment it didn't matter. I was cold I was hungry I wanted chips.

Now to explain the place to get the chips was a stall by the car park. From there the only view of the match was what was now the Sully goal. I'd expected the break to be fifteen minutes so imagine my shock as the lady was frying the chips when I saw the radioactive orange sight of the Sully goalkeeper. The second half was starting without me.

So there I was. Walking back to the pitch. Chips in hand.

Nice Chips At That

Passing through instruments of sporting torture.



And was just ready to see the ball go into the Sully net. Two-One Pencoed.

From that moment there was a clear change in Pencoed. Winning seemed to make them more relaxed. They were now matching Sully in the skill department. There was I could recall a piece of skill that produced a round of applause from the Pencoed management.

They were happy.

Behind the Sully Goal and The Man In Radioactive Orange

View from seaside of the pitch

The Sully side of the pitch....where most of the second half action was

Final Few Minutes 

With about ten minutes to go Pencoed scored a third. One on one with the radioactive goalie the player elegantly slotted the ball passed him. The best goal of the game.

Party time amongst the Pencoed posse began in earnest. One of the Pencoed management fell over. No one cared. Shots hit the bar. They knew they had won and were playing with the happy abandon of the school playground.

Sully however were deflated and you could see it. Their management hardly said anything after the third goal. They knew it was pointless.

Three one Pencoed was how the match finished. They deserved their victory.

So thankyou Sully Sports FC and Pencoed Athletic FC. For the neutral like me it was an enjoyable game to watch.

I'll just make sure next time I'm in Sully I dress a whole lot better.

Until the next time.

So Randall Munroe. Can Science Give Me A Solution To Stopping Someone Mauling My/YOUR Book?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So picture the scene. I'm at work. As regular readers will tell know, I bring a book with me to read during the breaks. On this particular day that book turns out to be What If? by Randall Munroe. One of the books borrowed from Sully library. A tome which gives "Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions" such as "Is there enough energy to move the entire current human population off-planet?"

Anyway there's a moment when I have to go outside for a few minutes so leave that book out of sight and do what I have to do.

On returning to work however I see a sight that set all readers on edge. My work colleague for the day is just sitting there with the book in her hands!

It's my book! Oh alright not my book. But I'm it's custodian for a while. Not her. Moving the pages as if it's her's

So there she stands and starts to chat about Mr Munroe's work.

"It's a good book" she says. Implies that it's been read....by her.

But I think she's lying. Why? Because of the way it's being examined. The way she's looking at it, as if for the first time. If I see something that I've read before then unless the pages of this edition are embossed with gold and the illustrations have been done by Leonardo De Vinci then it's ignored. You don't see a book you've read in a bookshop and say "I'll just reread one of my favourite passages as I'm passing". You're after something new.

But there she is, reading it, turning the page without a care. Well certainly not caring about me anyway.

Feel like shouting "give me back my book!" But of course I don't. It's a reader thing. As if in a literary way she's breaking and entering to somewhere I'm currently living in.

It is however a workplace environment. Diplomacy means I have to stay quiet. After all one day she might be my boss.

Eventually work calls her to put the book aside...not where I'd left it in the first place....instantly the book's in my workbag.

So Mr Munroe. Is there a scientific way you can stop someone from mauling your book (literally here your book) at work without risking your job? I think I speak for all readers that this is an important issue.

Until the next time

How Spiderman Saved The Day......But

Hello there. Hope you're feeling today.

Before we talk about all things spidery on Thursday went to the adoptive prefab that is Sully library to pick a new non fiction book to borrow.

As it happened went for two.

The non fiction section started with travel books. Most of them being guide books. The only "travel" book was Notes From A Small Island by Bill Bryson. Trouble is...I've read it.

Then came I.T books...Windows 8 for beginners and IPAD for seniors were some of the more trendy tomes until the old eyes saw this

The Golden Rules Of Blogging by Robin Houghton

Who knows it might make me a better blogger?

There was though the need for a second book. This was the next one on the shelf.

Randall Monroe - What If?

The blurb says it's about serious scientific solutions to absurd situations. We shall see.

Right that's all things bookish dealt with today. Let's turn to the original World Wide Web Wonder.

So far my daughter has not had a lucky summer holiday. Her friends in her new school have gone away (her turn is to come) and if the weather is any judge late July/August appear to have gone on a break with October having filled in for them. So she hasn't really gone out much anywhere so far.

On Friday the wife was working but I was not so decided that we'd see a movie. My original choice was a Japanese anime movie at the Chapter Arts Centre in Cardiff that I knew was on the day before. Thought it would be different. So that was the plan.

However there turned out to be a problem with the plan...in a nutshell what happens on a Thursday stays on a Thursday. The anime wasn't showing  on Friday.

So looked at what was on at the local Odeon cinema in the Red Dragon Centre just outside Cardiff. Showed the timetable to my daughter and told her to pick a movie we'd go and watch together. She picked, much to my surprise, Spider-Man Homecoming.

(A quick digression for those of you wondering why I didn't make her see Dunkirk the answer's simple. This time I wanted her to watch what she wanted and not force her to seeing something that she'd grudgingly watch. Personally it seems to me that all of the family should watch this together and not treat it as a refuge on a rainy day)

Anyway back to webby guy. Asked daughter why she wanted to go and see something that she'd never given any hint of liking before. There were two reasons:

1) Spider-Man is "hot" (My daughter is fourteen)

2) Zendaya is in it.

Now taking these two things in order (and thus a pre review of the review of the movie). You would have to ask a gay version of me in an alternate universe as to the "hotness" or otherwise of Tom Holland who plays Spidey. What I will say is that neither he or any other of the actors playing students looked like the fifteen/sixteen year olds they were apparently playing.

With regard to Zendaya (star of Disney channel comedies that all seem to merge into my fifty three year old brain into one amorphous mass) it's not spoiling the film to say that her role was so insignificant she could have tweeted it in.

The movie incidentally had a 12A certificate. One of the reasons was because of a "mild sex reference". As it happens it was the only bit of the movie that made me laugh.

Anyway off we went to the centre. Essentially a place to spend your money on various things such as a cinema, casino ,bowling alley plus various restaurants. Got the tickets then took some lunch at a place called Five Guys. Let me describe the lunch one hotdog each, fries for her and a soft drink. The food was OK but nothing special. It was also more expensive than the cinema tickets!!

Eventually it was time for the film. Daughter having armed herself behind Dad's back with a large and stinky box of popcorn (FYI I hate popcorn)  It wasn't full,or half I'd say about a quarter if that. First came the ads, then the trailers...a new Thor (Chris Hemsworth is also "hot" apparently) a Justice League of America that seemed to be filmed under a shroud it was that grey. And there is a Gerald Butler film out soon as well. Gerald Butler, star of that Boss aftershave commercial where he talks absolute twaddle as if it was in the Bible.

And then....at last....the film.

And let me stress at the outset I hated it. The overall reason being all the changes they made to Spider-Man since I read the comics as a child. There are many examples that I could use which would spoil the movie so won't go there. Here though are three that are not spoilers.

1) Spider-man had Spidey sense. Where he would get a tingle of upcoming danger. Well that's gone.

2) In this movie Spider-Man doesn't have a sidekick so much as a helper. But in the comics (should I be saying "graphic novel" now?) the webmaster swung alone.

3) Finally Aunt May was a wizened white haired old lady with a heart condition. Not a description anyone would ever give of Marisa Tomei.

But the point is this. The opinion of a fifty three year old man with nostalgia issues does not matter. The audience this film was catering to was represented by the fourteen year old to my right....and she loved it.

So thank you Spider-man for giving my daughter an enjoyable afternoon at the cinema........and for making me feel very, very old.

Until the next time.

Let's Talk About The Regeneration Of An Old Friend.....The Library. Plus Pictures From A Bay

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Bet you thought for a moment I was thinking of Doctor Who. Ha! Just quickly to say not bothered by the gender change one way or another. Except perhaps to mention that the Doctor has probably become the ultimate transsexual.

Anyway yesterday I got a call from Sully library. My library card is now ready and would I collect it? Is the pope Catholic? Yes of course I would.

And so an old friend has been regenerated. Sully Library. Let me remind you of the new form it has taken.

Magnificent No?

So at long last I get a library card.

The Route Of Knowledge

The next is to pick the books. One of the extra quiet pleasures a library produces. As it's a small place I aim to read all the most reasonable books I can. So for example as I'm currently living in rental accommodation no garden or home tomes will be read. Or, as it was the first in the non fiction category travel guidebooks are a no no. Getting a permanent place is a priority.

First book then on the non fiction shelves I could read was this then.

Totally Wired - Andrew Smith

This is about the companies that tried to get onto the internet bandwagon too early and its consequences. Seems like an interesting read.

I could have picked ten books but instead settled for two. So if I've finished the book and Sully library (which remember is just open for three days) is closed then this is the backup.

The Assassination Of Margaret Thatcher - Hilary Mantel

I've never read a Mantel book before so should be interesting.

And in case you're wondering I'll read the library books during daylight and the ebook at night.

During the evening we went out to have a dinner as it was my mother's birthday in Cardiff Bay. When we finished (a nice meal at an Italian restaurant called Bellinis) I took the following pics of Cardiff Bay as the day turned to dusk.

Bay in Action

The subsequent rain and thunderstorms seemed to have had brought the seagulls in when we were there.

No a fan of Seagulls...Avian Bullies

More dusky shots

Plus added rainbow

And finally. Penarth on a Tuesday night. Quiet.

A Pier View

Cliché Seaside Grey

Until the next time.