Welsh Labour Are A Bunch Of Charlies....And Not In A Chocolate Way

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Wales as a nation has many things going for it. And I hope that, whilst not running away frim it's problems I've highlighted this. However one thing that it doesn't have in abundance are writers that have a wide worldwide audience.Now whilst there are some writers who make a splash but then are eventually forgotten. I can off the top of my head only think of two....Dylan Thomas and Roald Dahl.

But whilst the Swansea area has taken its famous son and have put up a centre for Dylan Thomas as well you being able to visit the boathouse where he lived. Cardiff...capital city of Wales seems to have almost ignored one of the greatest children writers ever and not a bad adult one at in Dahl, who was born in Cardiff.

He had the knack of creating ordinary and recognisable worlds and sprinkle them with light touches of fantasy. When you were a child reader, it was that formula that made you believe that beneath the seeming drabness of life, magic could happen.

And of his adult work it's his short stories ("Tales of the Unexpected) that are most remembered. A lot of them were capable of that sudden missed beat in your mind when the ending proved to be completely unexpected and yet logical.

Last year people flocked to Cardiff for the City of The Unexpected festival which brought the spirit of the children books to the place of his birth. This year, on the 100th anniversary of his birth...today....barely anything on an official level.

The Welsh Labour Government says there are many dedications to him across Cardiff.....hardly a centre now is it?

Cardiff Labour Council say they are looking into the possibility of building a Roald Dahl centre. But how can you take them seriously when you consider the fate of the Doctor Who Experience in Cardiff Bay, which recently had to close down because the council were not prepared to extend the lease on the building. Therefore there is a good chance that the experience will be moved to another city, a city which will have absolutely no connection with the good Doctor. Unlike Cardiff where the show is actually made!

For some reason the Cardiff Labour Council / Welsh Labour Government prefer things like the UEFA Champions League final which provide one off revenue hits than things like the Doctor Who Experience was or what a Roald Dahl centre could be in providing a continuous stream of money for the local economy.

The council/Welsh Assembly should be proactive in trying to get the agreement of the Dahl estate to such a centre. That activity would certainly be a Tale Of The Unexpected coming from Welsh Labour but welcome nonetheless . It's current tardiness carries the danger that another place in the UK will get in there first, so that Cardiff, and Wales would have lost an cultural and financial opportunity to celebrate him.

Why are they like this? Well I've no idea. Welsh Labour arrogant incompetence comes to mind. But perhaps there is a more worrying reason.

Perhaps there's no one in Welsh Labour that bothers to read books anymore.

Until the next time.

Of Books Read And Borrowed Leading To My Big Enviormental Question

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well the collected essays of Brian Aldiss is now finished. And for the most part I enjoyed it. You will rarely have a consistent view of any anthology but for the moment calling him the George Orwell of Science Fiction essays (though not all are Sci-fi) seems appropriate.

There are a few caveats. Some of these essays were so above me they were rocket to the moon length. Also this particular ebook lazily put certain volumes together even though some of the essays appeared twice, which was annoying. But approaching subjects like Mary Shelley or George Orwell from his sci-fi perspective is interesting and unusual. The book was worth reading for those essays alone.

Won't read the other Brian Aldiss I have on my Kindle yet, I'll save that for another day. So back to Charles Dickens and David Copperfield.

Went to Sully library to choose some new books. The Fiction choice was..

Edward Marston - Timetable of Death

I've never read The Railway Inspector crime series before. So this is new to me. But when waiting for my daughter at her school read sixty one pages of this book without realising I'd gone through so much in a short space of time. That is the mark of a good writer. Early days obviously, but it looks promising.

The other book. The one I wasn't sure to get but eventually decided upon was this.

David Attenborough - New Life Stories

This leads to my environmental question. Because I should explain first that I've never watched a David Attenborough or any animal programme.

So the question: Can you be truly care for the environment when you're wary in the presence of animals?

I believe in being environmentally friendly. I do believe in climate change and have shown that landscapes are important to me. Also I'm against zoos believing that animals should be allowed to roam free but at the same time I'm ambivalent to anything that's not human.

Part of the reason for this, possibly all of it, is my actual phobia for dogs. Brought on by being almost mauled by an Alsatian when I was a very young child. Even now, no matter how small the dog ("He won't bite,he's showing he likes you") my reaction is to stiffen with fear.

So I can't say I've read many animal books. When I finish it that will need to be borne in mind.

Until the next time.

Non Adventures In Time,Space And Ikea

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well picture the scene. It's Sunday midday. The preferred option for the day was a trip to Tenby but forecast rain (which thankfully did come. There would have been no end of nagging had that not happened.Was just willing for the downpour) meant that was a no-no. Cardiff was also a non starter, given that a lot of it was to be shut off for the final of the Tour of Britain.

So there were three options:

1) We just go to the nearby village of Sully for lunch and then slump Sunday afternoon style on the sofas.

2) Go to Barry Island and watch fascinatingly at the sights of a seaside town in unseaside weather.

3) Go to IKEA, have lunch and then get some fabric for daughter's textile lessons at school. She had a sewing machine for her birthday and for me has shown surprising interest. Surprising in the sense that she definitely does not get that from me.

If you consider it was me vs mother/wife/daughter I think you can work out which option won.

I take The Edge Of Science by Alan Baker to read whilst the ladies are doing their thing. A decision which is treated with contempt across the generations. I don't care. The book is brought.

We arrive in the blue and yellow furniture powerhouse and the first thing to do is to have lunch. I know from the signs immiedietly what I want. Vegetable meatballs. The ladies hadn't a clue what they wanted. So I commandeered and sat by a table whilst they went . There I finished the book off.

(A quick aside something I haven't told mother/wife/daughter is that I've decided to gradually eat more vegetarian meals. I won't be an out and out veggie, if only because a bacon sandwich can seduce me in the same way chocolate does women. But still I've become after all these years now convinced that it will be good for me, so I'll whittle it down)

I wish I could say it was enjoyable, but alas. With the byline "How Did The Universe Begin and how will it end?" You would expect this to have been written by Professor Alan Baker, Doctor Alan Baker, Astro Geophysist Alan Baker NBA,MLB,NFL but alas no. Just Alan Baker with no letters around his name other than Mr. What's worse however is that he seems unable to use letters to form a readable book. It was one of those books that dull the brain almost instantaneously. It was only able to slow time as you wished you could finish it quicker.

Chapters like Are We The Extraterrestials?  Riddles of the universe and The End Of All Things should be dealt with in separate books not in chapters of a few pages each. It was, it has to be said, the most pointless tome I have read in a long while.

But it's finished. I mention to the ladies that it wasn't a good book. Wasn't given a sympathetic response.

"Perhaps you should have just looked around and seen the real world " said the wife.

Really? Such as the couple on the table opposite with the young girl with a bib marked "Daddy's Princess on it. And true to form acted like a spoilt brat throwing food and drink to the floor. Or the table on the right, where a woman was feeding her child, a boy younger than the brat nearby. Both mothers were young and pretty, both men were young but had the sort of look that suggested that whilst family life might have been an intention it was too soon than they'd expected.

So I could say to my wife that I had noticed. If it wasn't for the fact that they were still there.....and they were bigger than me.

Once the food was finished we did the wander round. Daughter got her fabric, mother got a vase, wife got a few things and of course I got nothing....except.....

In my status as middle aged I present

Slippers

And at last my biggest bugbear is resolved. I present you with my favourite mug, from IKEA, which I keep even though it's slightly chipped.

I know you're impressed

Now I like this mug because it looks continental but is big enough to hold a proper cup of tea. However every time I've tried to get another one like this for some reason the handle is only big enough for one finger to fit in. Making it awkward.....until now.

Middle Aged Problem Now Solved

So I suppose I shouldn't complain about this Sunday afternoon at IKEA

Until the next time.

The Novel As An Eight Year Old Kia Picanto

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I have an eight, possibly nine year old Kia Picanto. It's white (when I get round to washing it anyway), it's small and no one will ever say that it's look was created by an Italian designer. It goes nought to sixty in a way that will always get beaten by the car in the other lane and my in car entertainment system is a radio (it has a CD but like most of the world now that is never used).

However whilst it's unquestionably basic and unflashy it takes me from a to b in a smooth ride and is reliable. It does what I ask it to do. I don't have great expectations of my car, but it always surpasses them.

There is I realised, whilst reading The Chateau on the Lake by Charlotte Betts, a similarity between a particular type of novel of all genres and my little car. Ms Betts' story is not the best book I've read this year (I'll even guess that it won't be the best book I'll read this month) but I enjoyed the journey it gave me.

I feel it's one of those books whose primary aim is to entertain and there's nothing wrong with that. If you want something that will give you insight on the human condition suspect even Ms Betts will move you along. She's telling you a story.

As regular readers will know I try to give out as little of the plot of the books I chat about as possible as to not spoil it for people who haven't yet opened it. As a genre "historical romance" would probably be the closest way to describe it (and that's certainly the way you'd describe it from the packaging) I also got traces of Jane Eyre and Rebecca but none of that, though true, gives you a correct sense of what you're reading . Oh did I tell you that it set during the time of the French revolution? Well yes but the Scarlet Pimpernel it isn't.

Will not say that I was surprised either. But like an eight year old Kia Picanto that doesn't matter. Familiarity breeds relaxation and enjoyment. When you're confident about your drive you look around you even if it's a route you've taken many times (whilst always keeping an eye on the road of course).

And it's to Ms Betts' credit that I had a good opinion of her novel given that as a fifty three year old man I suspect I'm not her target audience.

So like an eight year old Kia Picanto her novel goes through the basics and will not surprise you....except in surpassing your expectations.

Until the next time.

Perhaps The Welsh Need To Be Less Nice Part Three: The Iron Ring

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Recently there was a proposal from the Welsh Labour government to put £630,000 investment project in Flint Castle. Part of that project was going to be an iron ring sculpture which apparently was going to be symbolise a giant rusty crown. (you have to say, before I go on that no colour symbolises Welsh Labour more than rust).

However Ken Skates, the Welsh minister who proves men can't multitask, seemed to miss other symbolism that the sculpture suggested. The conquest of Wales by Edward I was enforced by a chain of castles that was described as a "ring of steel".......oops.

There was a petition made. Protests called and eventually that part of the project was scrapped. If only other Welsh Labour grandiose projects could be halted as quickly as that one.

And you think that was that.

But now we have the mayor of Flint saying that the residents of the town are "up in arms" over the decision. Going on to say that history could not be changed and that most of the criticism was from South Wales.

So we need to chat about this. Firstly is it the really the case that the people of Flint are going to fight for what is, essentially, a symbol of defeat? What other nation would even consider putting up such a thing, saying to the world "Well we lost and here's something to remember that by"?

History cannot be changed. Nor should it be forgotten. But that does not mean a nation should demean itself by using it as a marketing opportunity. If a nation is not proud of its identity then it is nothing. The Welsh Labour government seemed to lose a sense of identity over this issue. And possibly what is worse did not initially seem to be aware of it in the first place.

And as for the mayor's assertion that most of the criticism came from South Wales. Well there are a couple of things to say about that. Firstly since I've moved from London I've been conscious of the North/South divide in Wales that I was not aware of beforehand (although I think that the divide is a lot more complicated than that. One day might chat about it). Nonetheless making it a "North/South" issue is a sort of unpleasant populist remark that does not help matters.

She also should prove that her assertion is correct. I've read criticism of the ring from North Walians, including Plaid Cymru's North Wales AM Llyr Gruffydd.

But even if this is correct, and let's assume that it is for the sake of argument what's wrong with that? Not being from an area does not make you invalid to think, to feel and if required to protest. This sort of "them and us" argument seems to forget the fact that the ring was perceived as a symbol of all Wales and not just of the North. Consequently South/East/West Walians were entitled to voice an opinion. It was not just a North Walian issue.

That ring came close to being built. Perhaps the Welsh Labour Government needs to be more conscious of being Welsh and of Welsh traditions next time something like this comes along.

Until the next time.

In Which A Musical Might Be A Sign Of A Forthcoming Recession

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

At time of writing it's Friday evening, in fact my daughter's birthday, and as a birthday present for my daughter, wife and mother they are at the Wales Millenium Centre watching a performance of the musical Crazy For You.

When I booked the tickets in July it seemed to be the perfect extra present for them all. Given that it is a) a musical b) has two winners of Strictly Come Dancing in it. Plus as it turned out subsequently that I can spend the evening watching Portuguese football on the new FreeSports channel in peace. A win for everybody.

The seats I will say now were almost the cheapest. Budgets being tight and all that. So they were to be seated at the gods. But they would have a grandstand view of the proceedings and for all three of them it wasn't their main present, just an added extra.

That then is July. So imagine my surprise receiving an email from the Millenium Centre early this week saying that to provide "an intimate atmosphere" they offered that the three women in my life were to be seated closer to the stage. In other words they could not sell enough tickets and didn't want the cast performing in front of disheartening swathes of empty seats. Of course I accepted the offer.

Which of course brings us to the question how could a musical with a well known personalities find itself in this position on a Friday evening? Monday,Tuesday might have been more understandable. But Friday?

Well what I'm going to say next is purely my opinion and based on nothing else. For all I know I might just be talking out of my backside having put two and two together and made five. Still here I go...

For me there are two possible explanations. One is that the musical is just rubbish, that the cast could not sing and dance their way out of a paper bag and when they return I'm going to be surroundsound nagged at by three generations of my family. But I don't think so...

The second explanation is that when a recession begins people start cutting back on the "luxuries". When previous recession began I remember on the radio a cobbler phoned up to say that he knew there was an economic downturn because more people came in to get their shoes repaired rather than buy a new pair.

A high tech version of that was a report I remember at the time discussing the effects of the previous recession on the West Wales seaside town of Tenby. One of the people who profited from the situation, for the same reason as the cobbler, was a PC Repairman.

Since summer has gone (hardly was here in the first place) a trip to the theatre, even on a Friday, might become a luxury. True there was The Addams Family a few weeks before, but that was the sort of thing that could appeal to all ages. Crazy For You wouldn't appeal to all the family. If you cut "luxuries" from your budget then going to the theatre would be easily one of the first things that would go.

As I will stress again I might be completely wrong. But as we enter winter and longer nights approaches it might be worth noting of anything else suggesting that the long predicted downturn is not just occurring but starting to have an effect on people's daily lives

Until the next time.

Herb Alpert And Cleaning The Apartment

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

There are many ways where I know I'm an old man at fifty three. Not least because adverts on the TV tell me in no uncertain terms that life insurance/funeral policies on the event of death start at fifty. So I'm at the age where I'm looked at as a marketing opportunity for when that bucket is kicked.

Fairly recently Easy Listening has entered my sphere. In the eighties I would have considered Easy Listening to have been akin to  having my ears mugged by BBC Radio 2. But no longer. To mix metaphors musically speaking I'm wearing slippers.

Now let me clarify what I don't mean by Easy Listening. I still cannot stand musicians who take a "pop" tune and try to middle age it. Recently on the otherwise excellent Clare Teal show I heard an Easy Listening/Big Band rendition of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" sung by Paul Anka as chosen by a studio guest. Something I'm sure had people of all generations shouting "NOOOO!"

Neither do I like the term "Easy Listening" It implies that an orang-utan could knock a tune up in a few minutes. Yet I'd argue that Burt Bacharach is one of the most important American composers ever.

What Easy Listening (for want of a better term) does at its best is to gently touch at your emotions whether in happiness or sadness at what life throws at you. Whether it's Dean Martin singing Volare or Dionne Warwick recalling lost love in "Walk On By".

It's also all inclusive. I'm as a rule not a Country and Western Fan. But it was his collaboration with Jimmy Webb that led me to the music of the late Glen Campbell. Neither am I into jazz, but I cannot praise Louis Armstrong highly enough.

Musicians that I remember disliking in the seventies, The Carpenters, The Osmonds, Neil Diamond I now get. That's what age does to you I suppose.

My mother is visiting the apartment for the next few days as it's my daughter's birthday tomorrow. As I'm not working today and the wife is the instructions were clear. Essentially "Wipe this,clean that,vacuum here".

For my companion along the way I selected Herb Alpert with that brass of Tijuana. Mainly instrumentals the tunes invoke a summer that we in Britain have hardly experienced this year. It also seems to give out a quiet love of life that doesn't involve drums and electric guitars at high volume.

Under Mr Alpert's direction my ears were not mugged.....they were relaxed.

And I don't think I've cleaned the apartment so quickly without noticing the time either.

Until the next time.

In Which I'm Losing Connections With My Daughter And Bruce Chatwin Doesn't Help

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

As the title suggests as she is growing older I feel as if I'm losing connections with my daughter (who is nearly fifteen) of course that happens to all parents as their children grow older and assert their independence more. What I didn't realise (and probably should have) is that when you have a girl then it's Dad who this will affect first....specifically because he's Dad.

For as she gets older specific issues and interests arise where I, in my official capacity as Dad, have absolutely no clue what to do. For example...

Hair: As regular readers of this blog know I have enough problems with my own silver thatch to understand the problems of young women. For cutting as well as styling "Ask your mother" is my response.

Make Up: To the majority of men. Makeup is a sort of biological chemistry set for which we barely have an idea what these strange substances and implements are. Another "Ask Your mother" issue.

Fashion: Daughter never likes my comments on what she's wearing. Wife thinks I'm "behind the times". So if I make a comment Daughter's response is to ask her mother.

And fashion leads to.....

Shopping For Clothes: Many years ago. When my wife was choosing a top for what seemed like an eternity I remarked to my daughter that one day she would be exactly like her mother. Well that time has come. And if I'm dragged into this kicking and screaming at what to them is not so much shopping more of an event then my only true companion is whatever book I'm reading.

And of course there's ......

Boys: Where I suspect I'll be the last person to know about a boyfriend until she's in her twenties and there's a ring involved.

As for television. Daughter is a fan of film musicals and dance/song talent shows.....as is the wife ....no interest in anything that involves sport and a ball at all.

Now this is no competition. I now know that even if I intended to make it so I'd lose heavily. I'm a man, and at this age my daughter's interests/needs are best served by her mother.

And I do have responsibilities. Though not "popular" ones. Homework enforcer, unwelcome alarm clock on school days and of course taxi. But it's not the same.

I was mulling on this yesterday as I was waiting outside daughter's school. Then decided instead to finish In Patagonia by Bruce Chatwin. So let me confirm what I said on Sunday. I hated this book.

You know it's odd disliking a book not only popular but loved.But there we go. I hated the short chapters. The way he seemed to act superior to the indigenous people. The way history was jammed in and then rammed out. There was nothing smooth about this at all.

Not the worst book I've read this year. But so far unquestionably the most disappointing.

Went to Sully library and took out two books. This was the first:

Charlotte Betts -The Chateau On The Lake

I'm not expecting much here except being hopefully entertained.

The other was:

Alan Baker - The Edge Of Science

No idea what to expect here. We shall see.

As for what to do with my daughter. The answer I reckon is to find new interests where we can connect more. For the moment it turns out to be Ice Hockey. Since we went to the Cardiff Devils match last week I've recorded some more games on TV and amazingly she wants to watch them with her old man.

Father daughter bonding over ice hockey....thank you ice hockey.

Until the next time.

Let's Talk More About A Proposed Welsh "Super" Prison.....And Birmingham

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I spoke recently about a proposed Welsh "Super" prison to be built in Baglan near Port Talbot. I expressed dismay that both the UK and Welsh governments appear to think that building such a monument to the way we live  now would be good for the area. They seemed to think that these prisons (there is more than one proposed super prison to be built in Wales) would provide Wales with a new "skill set" in a "service industry" rather than to use the vacant land (near residential houses, a care home and a school please note) for something more constructive to the community, like say a factory.

One of the other points I touched on was that I was advised on Twitter that these prisons were going to be used partially to accommodate English criminals. Now, before I go on let me repeat the point I made in the earlier post. That for the purposes of what I'm going to chat about "English criminals" means those who were (before incarceration) English people living in England and not those who crossed the Severn Bridge.

Again I stress this was on Twitter but the specific city mentioned to me was Birmingham. And I was reminded of this by the news that on Sunday there was a seven hour standoff between prisoners and staff at HMP Birmingham. Apparently there was disorder, with paper records being set alight, stairwells being set on fire and so on. Exactly the cause of all of this is unclear, but for the purposes of discussing Baglan that doesn't matter. These were category B and C prisoners...exactly the type of prisoners destined for Baglan.

Now if what was told to me on Twitter is correct, you have to ask yourself this. There are I'm sure many isolated spots in Warwickshire where a prison could have been built to accommodate any overcrowding. But no. The authorities decide to build them in Wales. In the case of Baglen Old South Wales is fulfilling the functions New South Wales did.

And what the disturbances of the weekend shows is that you don't have to be a category A criminal to create violence. But hey that's not going to be Birmingham's problem if they're bundled to Baglen.

So building a prison in Baglen needs to be opposed. Not just for the specific local reasons but the image it will send out about Wales as a whole. My favourite description of Wales is that it's "Italy with rain" let not the phrase "Alcatraz with rain" take over.

Until the next time.

If I Lived In Maesteg This Is The One Question I Would Ask To The TalkValleys Meeting

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I, as you're all aware am a fan of Twitter and one of the organisations I follow is Bridgend County Borough Council (Labour). Along with Welsh Labour generally, Arsenal football club and D H Lawrence one of the regular villains of this blog.

Well yesterday they tweeted a forthcoming meeting of #Talkvalleys a Welsh government initiative asking South Wales Valleys communities through a series of meetings what can be done to improve current facilities where they live such as creating more jobs, childcare, transport and so on

On Thursday there will be a meeting in Maesteg at six o'clock. I was tempted to go. But then felt no. I've never lived in the town, and I no longer live in the area. It just wasn't right.

Still this is my blog......

So if I lived in Maesteg and attended the meeting this is the one question I would have asked.....

Why are you here?

For Maesteg as a town and Bridgend as an area are awaiting two decisions. Both will affect what will happen to the area for many years to come.

The first involves the Town Hall. A focal point for the town. I've mentioned before that Bridgend Labour Council have all but won their battle to get rid of Maesteg Indoor Market for the apparently necessary repairs that have to be done. I wont go into full details here but the key point is that the creation of the "cultural hub" the council want to build depends on EU(!) funding. They have bet the farm on this. There seemingly is no plan B. So what if the council doesn't get the funding? What then?

If there is no Plan B then it will affect the town in the way that a large rotting abandoned building can do. Imposing a sort of unwanted misery on the people and businesses surrounding it.

One final thought. Maesteg Town Hall is apparently in need of urgent repairs.....and yet this meeting is being held there!

And then there is the Ford engine plant.

For if Ford even lessen production it will affect everything in the whole Bridgend area and Maesteg will not be immune from this. The council, the Welsh Government, the UK government will receive less income if there is any reduction in the workforce Control because of Brexit having moved from Brussels to Detroit.

Once these two decisions have been made then the meeting should be held. For then the Maestegians will know what the town will be facing. For the moment this meeting seems just seems like central governmental gloss.

Until the next time.

How Bruce Chatwin, Brian Aldiss and the NRL Fared In The Rainy Sunday Test

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Although my daughter has one more day of the school holidays left to go but let's face it the Monday doesn't really count) the wife had plans for Sunday.

"Let's go to Tenby" she said on Saturday.

I shrugged. Been there done that. As I've said before in this blog I'm not really a beach person.But then again I'd no real alternative option so fine.

However it's now Sunday morning....and it's raining. It was one of those Sundays (wherever in the world you are) that aside from getting any necessary provisions you know from the moment you get up that you're staying in.

There's now a channel called FreeSports ....yippee to that...where you can watch....surprise,surprise sports without having to pay for it. As mentioned before because of the internet connection where we are renting at the moment I've had to drop BT Sports. This was good news for the wife and daughter as it meant the number of programmes I'd recorded dropped to one (Professor T). Now however I'm back DVR'ing as if my life depended on it. So they find they're watching something and then the screen suddenly changes to an Australian rugby league game. Oh how they love that

Ah yes Australian Rugby League. The NRL. A season about to go into it's final stages. I'm Ok with the sport. Football will always come first but don't dislike it. So on Sunday morning watched a recording of a few games. The most important for me being the North Queensland Cowboys versus the Brisbane Broncos.

This game, being the first to watch was going to decide which NRL club I was going to follow. But. even though it might mean that I wouldn't be able to watch them for the rest of the season I'm no glory seeker. So whoever lost would have, for what it's worth, my support.

Well.....go get them Cowboys from now on then.

I enjoyed the games of course having the advantage that not living in Australia meant I wouldn't know the result in advance and could watch them later. There is a possibility dem Cowboys will move into the final eight at time of writing but I don't know and am not finding out before I finish watching this week's games

In the afternoon though wife/daughter wanted to watch movies. In particular Evita starring Madonna. Wasn't interested in that (though it raises the question whatever happened to Jimmy Nail?) so picked up and continued to read In Patagonia by Bruce Chatwin.

Now I haven't finished the book yet. But those of you hoping that I would be somehow transported into the wildlands of Argentina and wax lyrical about the prose will be disappointed. I don't like travel books where the natives are treated like exhibits for the examination of the writer. He is not superior.

Furthermore the chapters are short,very short, one, two, three pages long. Tells a story and moves on when you're sure he could have got into more detail.

You know what? It might have been a better read as a blog (before his time I know).

When the skies grew darker I turned to my Kindle and it's backlight for further reading. However Charles Dickens will  have to wait. Amazon always throw offers at you when you've bought a Kindle. Normally I can ignore them. But recently they've offered deals on works by the recently deceased writer Brian Aldiss who I wrote about recently. Well I was tempted and bought a complete set of the short stories he wrote in the fifties as well as a complete set of his essays. Not only that but cannot resist reading them (starting with the essays) now thus jumping the queue of the great ebook unread.

Will chat about it when I've finished. All I'll say now is that I'm not disappointed.

It's Monday as I'm writing this. It's raining...but I have work coming up.

Until the next time.

Pen(arth) State

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It's a Saturday. But sporting wise not a normal Saturday. For due to the international break there's not that many club football games being played. Instead football focus has been on the World Cup qualifying games. The previous night England beat Malta in a match which until the final few minutes was so dull it almost cure my insomnia. Later Wales were facing Austria. But for that afternoon rugby entered my thoughts. The friendlies were now over.

The season had begun.

A quick check revealed that the closest game being played to me was in Penarth RFC who were playing Aberdare at 2:30 in the very precise WRU National League Division 2 East Central. I decided to leave where we're currently renting an hour earlier. A friend of the wife's was visiting.

"Oh you're seeing the Pens!"

I really had no idea what this woman was talking about. Still bid them my goodbyes and off I went.

It wasn't that far away. Parked nearby. Only when entering the ground I realised I'd forgotten to bring a book with me to read during the interval. Now that was irritating.

So paid my fee and walked along the path. On the pitch both teams were training.




What was clear was that the management of either side were blessed with never needing a microphone. In terms of Aberdare that meant pre watershed language. Now I've never understood this. I get angry management during a game and of course at the end. But the purpose of pre game anger management has passed me by.

The Penarth voices weren't pre watershed but just as loud.

"Latch onto him!" came the cry as one guy seemed to avoid his team mates.

The Snakes (Aberdare) in training

The club has a stand if you want to go and watch the game there (personally I preferred to spectate using the traditional "leaning on a fence" method.

And the crowd. Well obviously not the attendance for a top tier Welsh Club in the Pro 14. However far more than the "five men and a dog" audience that this tier of rugby was described to me earlier this week. There were many men....and dogs.....and women....and children.

As an area Penarth has a reputation for being relatively affluent and although I think the reality is a little more complex than that it's certainly true that parts of it are well off. I'm saying all of this because if you're after symbolism I'll give you this.

Now you might notice the tanned object in the centre of the photo near the pitch.......that was a champagne cork.

They also have bistro rugby spectating areas.

Took this during half time. Whilst the match was on it was full

All very sophisticated. Less so when the people had to hurriedly move to avoid the overkicked ball coming their way.

So the match began.



In the early stages the home side piled on the pressure.



"Go Pens!" came the shout. Ah I get it now. Pens is short for Penarth. Sometimes can be slow on the uptake.

I noticed a Penarthian player with a ponytail. He threw himself to every tackle, ran for every ball as if to say judge me on what I do not on my hairstyle. Another Penarth player sidelined until the second half was a stocky man with a large black beard. Imagine son of Santa playing before going for a stint as a Cardiff nightclub bouncer and an accurate picture would emerge. The Penarth team clearly consisted of men who were if nothing else prepared to battle for their team.

But the first try was Aberdare's. An interception roughly at the half way line, a race to the goal, a pass and a try. It was impressive it has to be said. Perhaps swearing at the players does help.

My attention was distracted for a moment from the game. When I turned back a young man was on the floor. The physio was attending to his leg. The man's face was in his hands. He was in pain. Eventually a stretcher had to be brought out. Thankfully later on he was driven by private car to the hospital (the fact it wasn't by ambulance gave you some cause for hope).

The above lasted for quite a while and it did make me think. For young men being in a rugby team gives them a bit of kudos with their peers, allows them to dream of a tomorrow playing for Cymru in a red shirt and probably makes it easier to impress women. The downside to that though is that probably sooner than most other men of their age they realise that they're not invincible.....that pain hurts.

The match restarts. Suddenly I feel a scrabbling in my leg. It turns out to be a black poodle. Regular readers will know my phobia to dogs. The owner picks the mutt up.

"Sorry" she says and then goes on to say that the poodle was after the legs of the man next to me. What am I supposed to say after that? Flattered?

During a scrum Penarth score with the resultant try. Soon afterwards a penalty is awarded to the Pens (I'm with the lingo now) and the half is finished at 10-8 to the home team.....which makes me think I've missed something along the way.....I'm blaming the dog.



So the break and I'm hungry. I buy a sausage roll not realising that it's spicy. This means that I need to get a coke from the bar. So queue dutifully. second half begins and whilst waiting Aberdare score.

Now I didn't see that try. But from the other tries Aberdare scored in the half it probably involved someone breaking through the Penarth defence and either running through or passing to a team mate to rack up the points. As the first half was close the second was just the snakes steamrollering of the opposition.





It finished 10-39. Though knew they was beaten did not realise until the announcer gave out the score that Penarth did not add a single point to their total in the second half. Aberdare were just that dominant. Not so much snakes on a train as snakes on a roll.

And this is what rugby should be. Local teams supported by local fans plus the odd stray English man wandering in.

Until the next time,

Why Plaid Cymru Should Not Panic Part Three: Welsh Labour And The NHS

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I have mentioned before, and will repeat, that should the next general election fall within the next twelve months Plaid Cymru will find the going difficult if the electorate feel that there is a good chance of getting rid of the current Conservtive coalition of chaos with the Witchfinder general party that is the DUP.

The beneficiary of such a vote will be the Labour party led by Jeremy Corbyn. As I've also stated previously Welsh Labour have been lucky that the party of Corbyn has propped up what is, essentially the party of Blair despite it's clear arrogant incompetence on such issues as the running of the economy and education.

My view is that Plaid Cymru should battle to retain what it has in Westminster but go all guns (other metaphorical weapons are available) blazing with regard to the next Welsh Assembly elections. For then it can target a Westminster Corbyn government but crucially Carwyn Jones' Welsh Blair Labour (plus one Libdem for education) administration in the Senedd.

This would then be the moment for Plaid to say to the electorate of Wales that they, and only they follow in the traditions of the old Labour party and that the current Labour takes their vote for granted and then proceeds to destroy through mainly incompetence central tenets of Welsh (and people living in Wales) voter values such as a decent education for our children.

Which leads us to the National Health Service.

The Welsh Labour party will always tell you that it was they who created the National Health Service. This is factually incorrect. It was the old Welsh Labour party who created the NHS. Think about it. What do you think would happen if New Welsh Blair Labour was charged with the reform of the Health service in a parallel universe where the NHS did not exist. Would they have created it? Of course not. There would probably have been a public/private mixture. Point being they would not have created for all conditions a service that is free at the point of delivery.

Why can I say all of  this? Because you should judge Labour's record in running the Welsh NHS. A record which, whatever the issues are in England, Conservative Ministers and the Daily Mail use as a weapon to attack Labour governance. The irony of those who would rather the NHS be destroyed attacking Labour for it's record running it cannot be overemphasised.

Average waiting times for treatments and diagnosis are higher in Wales than in England. England, the country with a bigger population has a turnaround time generally quicker than Wales. How is this possible that people are waiting longer for an operation that will improve their lives or a diagnosis where they can work out how they need to handle what the future will bring?

An "ageing population" is not an excuse either. Whisper it gently. People in England grow old too.

So the probable reason, rather as in education, is incompetence in the administration of health in Wales. Welsh Labour have these big grandiose ideas with regard to health boards and the like but don't realise that there are problems until it's too late. Having on occasions actually cut the health budget they then throw money to try and resolve it realising that to do nothing will be a vote loser with the electorate. Trouble is that even if it cures the problem of the Welsh National Health Service, I suspect that any reforms will not be quick....and there will be pain.

Come the next Assembly elections Plaid Cymru will need to emphasise time and time again that Welsh Labour incompetence is destroying the NHS as it is the education of our children. That Plaid Cymru is the inheritor to the ideals of Aneurin Bevan and not the Welsh Labour party of Blair.

The opportunity to improve the lives of people living in Wales, and yes with the ultimate goal of independence is there.

But patience is needed.

Until the next time.

Devils On Ice

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I like Ice Hockey, and whenever it's been on television I've been happy to watch. Never actually physically gone to a game though. Various reasons, financial when I was unemployed but also simple planning given that we lived in Bridgend. Not a case of just a short trip round the corner.

However now we live in Penarth those things have now passed us. The Cardiff Devils are just a short journey away. It's Thursday. It's still the summer holidays. There's a match on.....why not?

Wife couldn't go but I decided to take daughter to watch the Cardiff Devils, British Ice champions play the Czech team Bili Tygri Liberec in the Champions Hockey League, the Champions League on ice.

They played in the "Ice Arena Wales" a place where you could skate in one ice arena and watch an ice hockey match afterwards. All they needed was a place for curling and a ski slope and they could boast a connect 4 for winter sports.

We went in. Bought some hot dogs and I noticed we were underdressed. More I think than any other sporting event I've been too the vast majority of people came dressed in replica shirts. Clearly they were believers.

So having gone to the back of the arena. Was told it would have the best seats if you wanted a good view. Was not lied to. All of a sudden the teams came out. The Cardiff Devils were given the raucous cheer of gladiators into the ring.....and they were only doing some training.

What was noticeable was the type of training. The Cardiff Devils would shoot the puck at the goalie from a different but fixed position whereas the Czechs would skate and repeatedly shoot to the same position.

The announcer, North American, I'll guess Canadian came on to read out the teams. Personally I felt he missed something here. He really could have been more clichéd American.

For example

"MARVELLOUS MATT MYERS"

"MATT....MR INFALLIBLE....POPE"

"ANDREW PRAISE BE LORD"

(By the way I noticed that on either team there was a man wearing the words "top scorer" on it. I mean why not put a target on his back?)

Anyway the match eventually began. And quite early on the Devils scored. People rose up in praise. Including, to my surprise, my daughter.

Then there were breaks. There are many breaks in hockey. Penalties, fights (many fights) and my favourite, Power Breaks. From now on I'm going to tell people when I make a cup of tea that I'm off on a power break.

Back to the game...the Devils scored again....devils delirium in the Capital. The fans (incidentally are Cardiff Devils fans called Satanists?) cheered again. After all they were the underdogs against a team and a country used to this sport at this level but they were losing.

However towards the end of the first period the Liberecs scored. Muted response apart from the music ("I Don't Care"). Lots of short spurted music in Ice Hockey, some appropriate, some just to clap your hands, pound your feet and some I didn't understand (Zorba The Greek anyone?)

There followed the longest designated four minutes I've ever known in sport where the clock was stopped for fights and players being sin binned. If Stephen Hawking ever watched an Ice hockey game then A Brief History Of Time would need to be rewriiten.

2-1 then after the first period. However on the second period the Czechs scored two quick goals to lead for the first time (also for the first time you realised the presence of Czech fans in the arena. Devils scored again but that was the final high point. For the rest of the game was sheer Liberec dominance, their experience in this level told.

The final score was 3-7.

You know what impressed me. The team lost by that score but the fans rose to a person to applaud their side. They knew they'd done their best.That included my daughter who later announced that she would to go again. Something that she's never said when I've taken her to watch a sport for the first time.

So we will, not exactly sure when but we will.

Until the next time.

The Hunt For A New Barber

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well I've held it for long enough. But the time has come when I need to take some action. My hair is wilder. It's become a silver jungle. I have to get it cut.

Regular readers will know that my hair was cut in a barber van....yes I said van ....just outside Bridgend. However though I still work in that area I don't live there. Should I change jobs to somewhere closer where I live now near Penarth then it would be sheer stupidity to continue with this arrangement.

Time to get a new barber.

I have to get it cut.

And please note the word cut not styled I'm a fifty three year old man unlikely ever to get onto the cover of GQ. Cutting my hair would be fine thankyou.

I've had my hair cut by a man or a woman so I'm not bothered by that. Although I was prepared for an answer to the standard barbery if asked (I assume) by a man.

"Something for the weekend sir?"

"Well tickets to Wales Austria would be nice"

Yesterday (Thursday) I had to do other things in Penarth so found myself there. I do intend to chat about the town properly in a future post for now though once my main business was done the hunt for a new barber began.

(Also note the word "barber". I have a fifty three year old man's caution to the word hairdresser and as to hairstylist.......please)

So wandering around the first thing I notice are a number of "unisex" places for your hair to be cut. Personally I find that such establishments should be fined under the trades descriptions act, if only because I've rarely seen male custom there. They are normally ladies with things in the hair. If looks are of any guide as well, they seem to be staffed by people the most affronted by a request to have your hair cut. As if you're not interested in their artistic coiffuring abilities.....(which to be fair I'm not).

Eventually though I discover barbers....where actual people will cut your hair and with patience listen to your vague instructions as to what you want. Traditional looking places. I can wait. I'm armed with a copy of Bruce Chatwin's book In Patagonia and I know how to use it.

But....

Every single one I went to said I needed to make an appointment. Clearly the Bridgend Barbers Van has spoilt me. After all I just needed to walk in, be patient and my hair would be cut. But no. Appointments would need to be made. Worst though was that the earliest appointment that could be made was next week......next week!

So I drove out of Penarth. Hair still not so much a silver fox as fight between ageing Octopussies (or is it Octopai?). I've made no appointment. I'll try to get it cut in Barry Town during the next few days. Otherwise it'll have to be arranged by the preferred Penarth method.

Oh for the simple days........nostalgia........of a few months back.

Until the next time.

Time For Football,Time To Be Sully Again

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well it's Wednesday around six and I'm at the Sully Sports FC pitch to watch their match against the Cardiff Corinthians.

I remember seeing the Corinthians years before, in a match against Penybont FC (or as it was pre merger with Bridgend Town FC Bryntirion AFC).The capital side were fighting relegation, which they were eventually unsuccessful in, and in this particular game they were in the first half constantly under pressure yet by the break it was still goaless. Come second half they had a free kick just outside the box. The guy curled it into the net. Football can do that. Unfortunately the pressure told and they lost by three, possibly four to one.

I'd learnt from my first experience visiting the ground a few weeks back. Firstly it didn't matter that it was the end of August, the sky was blue and the sun shining. The pitch is by the sea so you wear a jumper.

The second was that if you want to make sure you watch all the game get your food before not at half time. So first thing I did was to go to the stall.

"What would you like?" asked the lady

"Small portion of chips....and a coke"

"Regular or diet?"

"Well as I'm having chips....... diet"

And she smiled. Having got the joke.

We chatted. I'd explained that I was here as I'd recently moved into the area and saw that it was on. "Ah" she said. "Someone rang up a few weeks back and asked how much was it to get in for the game against Pentwyn"

Pencoed actually was the thought in my head......that person being me.

Chips were nice

As I walked towards the ground I saw the Corinthians training. That moment it was where they raise a leg and move it in a circular direction apparently so that they could as instructed "feel the groin". A rare moment where this could be done in public without a police response.

The Corries in training

Of course as it was just my second visit to the ground not all mysteries were solved. I still don't know the answer to the question as I was eating my chips ready for the game to begin....

What is this?

Oh and of course as always I'm claim to be the first person to read a Bruce Chatwin book during the break in a Welsh football game.



There was a notable bright sun for most of the game to the right of where I was spectating which might affect the players. Assumed then that Sully won the toss as they weren't facing it first half.

Yes everybody Wales has sun

As I was awaiting for the kick off the manager and his enforcer number two were walking behind me. All I could hear the enforcer say was that someone had quit. Few things more intriguing than catching half a conversation.

For the Cardiff management team though there was no ambiguity.

"Two minutes to get blowing!!!" Whatever that means.

So the match began.

For a moment you can avoid the match and just look at the sea

It wasn't that long (about six minutes) when there was a goal. The Sully number 7 got the ball bypassed the defender and scored. The Cardiff management seemed to blame the defending, but there seemed to be skill in that goal as well. Anyway one nil Sully.

The Management

For most of the half the teams were relatively equal. Cardiff hit the post once. It seemed that by the break it was going to be Sully in the lead. Then however a Corries player got pushed in the box. Referee immediately awarded a penalty. The man by me was unimpressed and shouted at the manager that it didn't need much pressure for the Cardiff player to fall down. The manager, angry at the notion his team could be full of wussies responded by saying the felled player was "powerful". Of course implying the Sully player that tackled his man was more stronger.

It was "Zak " who had to take the penalty. He was under pressure. Not just from his team but by the boy being held by his relative nearby. Dad was playing for Cardiff so he knew what team to support.

"Score a goal Zak"

"Score a goal Zak".

Don't know whether Zak could hear him. Probably best not. For he would then know the weight of a child's hope and innocence rested on his shoulders. The reality of a cruel world would have been faced by one so young.

"Score a goal Zak"

Zak versus the Sully goalkeeper aka the man in radioactive orange.

"Score a goal Zak"

Thankfully for those of us who believe in childhood hope Zak scored. Of course it was not enough.

"Score a goal Dad"

"Score a goal Dad"

Dad didn't score. No one for the rest of the half did. As it happened it didn't matter. There was always the second half for him to score and besides, the boy was off with his Nan to the swings.

Kids. Fickle huh?

1-1 then. The team most clearly agitated at half time was Sully. The enforcer number two demanded an all out attack in the first ten minutes. Words like "Smash" and "bang" were used. It was as if they were planning a bank robbery.

As it happens in the second half  this attack didn't happen. Basically everything seemed equal until about the last twenty minutes. It was then that the Sully bank raid happened. Attack after attack was thwarted or the final shot was just not there. The Cardiff management were getting more frenzied.



Incidentally I learnt that a jumper was of no use. It was getting colder. Knee buckingly colder. Coat next time.



With about seven or so minutes to go the ball fell to the Sully number 10 just outside the Corries box. He shot. I think it was deflected. It didn't matter. It was a goal. 2-1 Sully.

That was how it finished. To be fair because of that last twenty minutes Sully deserved the victory.

I left feeling cold, in need of a cup of tea but having enjoyed a good game.

Until the next time.

Why Going To Pay TV Would Be A Disaster For Welsh Top Club Rugby But A Shrug For Most Welsh Viewers Without Scarlet Fever

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

I am, I will admit, not the best person to chat about Welsh club rugby being a) English and b) whose first sport will always be football c) there are far better and more well informed bloggers on rugby than I'll ever be (I would recommend for example https://thevietgwent.wordpress.com) . However regular readers will know that for me the fact that football is first doesn't mean a dislike of what comes second.

However I was moved to go on Twitter when a Wales Online article suggested that in the forthcoming TV negotiations all matches in the Pro 14 competition might go to Pay TV. This might be just the PRO 14 people using this tactic as a threat to get more money from the non Pay TV broadcasters. But the possibility has to be taken seriously and therefore so have the consequences.

On Twitter there were two camps to this. One (which I'm in) is that it will be a disaster for Welsh Top Club rugby. The other was that those people who watch the two matches a week on non Pay TV should get off their backsides and go to the games instead. These people forget that free to air television is not free. The viewer pays for Welsh rugby games through the licence fee (BBC) or the cost of ads (S4C). It shows a contempt for the non Pay TV customer to forget that.

Everything I'm going to say next will in terms of support mainly exclude the Scarlets franchise. In terms of core support the seeming exception to this mistake that was the creation of the top 4 Welsh teams (though even they are apparently supposed to cover North Wales, from which I say....what?)

The trouble as I see it lays in the four club you cannot be relegated structure of the top tier of Welsh teams. I've discussed before how the regional spread in its creation in 2001 meant that the catchment regions included areas that were not emotionally linked to them unlike football. Consequently support is relatively low (I'm told it's growing but all I see generally are gaps in the grounds) and definitely insecure. Compare it to Cardiff and Swansea City football clubs and the difference is not only clear but also embarrassing.

Pay TV supporters partly attribute this to Free to Air channels. This is rubbish. Other Free To Air sport gets large crowds (BBC FA Cup football for example) but there needs to be that certain something that motivates people from their armchairs to actually going to a televised event, and taken as a whole top tier Welsh rugby has not been able to do that.

I know people in the South Wales Valleys who regularly go to Cardiff City home games. I have never met anybody from there who has regularly gone to Cardiff Blues games. In terms of Welsh rugby local teams get local support. Welsh rugby is not the NFL.

Also the fact that these clubs cannot be relegated meant that, taking it's total performance since 2001 (there will always be exceptions) there are moments of stagnation.

Supporters of Pay TV will say that sport is a business and there should no room for sentiment. But even judged on that basis I've always understood that the first rule of business is know your market. Taken as a whole the clubs have failed in this, and they cannot blame free to air TV.

The Newport/Gwent Dragons it should also be noted have been taken over by the Welsh Rugby Union because of financial issues.

With this insecure support the armchair viewer might be irritated initially if the games went to Pay TV but will ultimately go on with his/her life. Crucially I don't believe (unlike football or say English rugby club supporters) it will motivate the armchair fans to get a SKY/BT subscription. S4C will just show more matches from the lower tiers of Welsh rugby (which are exciting, even if their supporters were described to me as " a few men and his dog").

Consequentially out of sight out of mind with the consequent danger of death through neglect.

No change (and probable decline) in people attending. Low audience numbers.Less children will watch, and as a consequence in years to come the national team will suffer as the young will move towards other interests (indeed like England cricket the stage will be reached where most people will not be able to name most of the team).

Top four Welsh live rugby on Pay TV only will be a digital suicide note.

Until the next time.

The Insomnia Post

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Well at time of writing it's 4:45am in the morning. I've been awake since 4:35am. An improvement on the previous days but still too early. Insomnia bites again.

I get this from time to time in batches. It seems somehow worse this time. I sleep deeply through the night but then my eyes start to awake and cannot get back to dreamworld. Of course though, as I've said before you're not completely awake. Half asleep half awake. Not so much in the land of nod as zombieland.

Make a cup of tea. I need a cup of tea. A cup of tea is the nectar for me. All this world of coffee we're subjected to nowadays doesn't hide the fact that tea is what reaches me more.

I miss not being able to access TV sport channels because the internet stream is not fast enough. Not just because I miss watching my favourite teams but also sport is the perfect programme for the insomniac. A goal or a try does not require much concentration. Most other TV, whether catch up or not, doesn't really work for you (there are exceptions - you know my support for Professor T).

So instead the laptop has become my friend. I'm able first to look at the news headlines. Again today the world has been shaken by the actions of fat men with dodgy hairstyles, Brexit is the road sign to the cliff edge that the Conservatives appear to press the accelerator towards and Wales is just "and Wales" to the UK media.....so no change there then.

And then there's twitter and other stuff to wallow through. Something to do. Leaving aside my zombieworld state can't do anything like vacuuming in case I wake up wife/daughter....my excuse anyway.

It goes without saying during this latest batch that wife/daughter are having no problems with their sleep. They are sleeping not so much like logs as forests. They could go through alarm clocks, so for the moment that alarm clock is the not wideawake but awake one that is me.

It also goes without saying neither are the most sympathetic when sleep does catch up with me and I cannot control having an unwanted siesta sometime between eleven and two. But you have to have it. All of a sudden the urge for a nap overwhelms. So the sun is shining. outside those working nightshifts the world seems to be doing it's business whilst there's me having a nap.

What to do? I've tried sleeping late. A couple of days ago I deliberately went to bed at half past midnight. I woke up at nine minutes past three. Yesterday I went to bed at half past ten, before wife and (don't forget) daughter on summer holidays. Waking four thirty five is better....but no cure.

Both wife and my mother (!) suggest sleeping pills. Don't like it at all. If only because I feel it'll make my sleep patterns more tangled than they already are.

If my previous history is any guide then there will be a moment when it will just go. Mind you I'm not really sure when this one will finish though.

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.

In Which Insomnia Leads Me To That Fight,Hilary Clinton,Alistair Cooke and Leanne Wood....but Not West Ham

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It's 3:45am on a Sunday morning....and I still have insomnia.

Wife's asleep. She'll be asleep for hours yet. Lucky her. I'm awake....and I don't know what to do.

You might ask why don't I watch that Flemish show Professor T that I mentioned last week when I had the same problem. Trouble is, I watched it yesterday (for the record though I am officially a fan) when I woke up at 4:15am.

Perhaps I should watch Match Of The Day which I recorded as was on the afternoon/evening shift at work yesterday? All depends what the West Ham result was. Check my tablet for the score...

Not watching Match Of The Day.

So armed with a cup of tea...so want that cup of tea......find myself on Twitter. In the beginning it seems to be dominated by that fight between Floyd Mayweather and Conor Mcgregor. Had no intention of watching it even if it wasn't being shown on Rupert Murdoch's SKY (which I don't have). I've never understood pay per view for boxing anyway. Doesn't matter that they'll show all the fights on the card if the main bout ends very early you feel cheated.

The fight ended with the professional boxer winning the boxing match against the non professional boxer. Big deal.

So after that scrolled down my Twitter timeline until I stopped at an article where Shirley Williams was explaining how Hilary Clinton helped her out during a edition of BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour. In my zombie like state I make two actions.

1) Note to see whether I can get a copy of her autobiography Hard Choices from the library.

2) Have a listen to this Woman's Hour programme (broadcast in 2014 when she was promoting said book).

Because it occurred to me that nothing has boosted the likelihood of a female president of the United States in my lifetime more than the consequences of not voting her in last year. Perhaps as the US,North Korea and possibly the UK if Boris Johnson becomes Prime Minister shows, the gender that should be discriminated against in politics are fat men with dodgy hairstyles.

But I don't get to Woman's Hour. Having typed her name in the BBC Iplayer Radio app. I'm distracted by a Letter From America programme about her and listen to that instead.

Now for those too young to be aware of it Letter From America was a 15 minute radio programme where Alistair Cooke amiably chats about the issues of the day, whether personal to him or relevant to the entire world from, surprise, surprise, America. It ran from 1936 to 2004.

In this particular programme, broadcast in 1996, when Bill Clinton was about to seek reelection as President, was about the attacks on her not fulfilling the position of First Lady by opposition Republicans who considered the role to be that of dutiful female behind the President rather than a person with opinions that should be spoken of Interestingly Cooke explains how the first Lady sought a loan to keep the United States afloat with a foreign power without her husband's knowledge.

That lady, Cooke then points out with a knowledge of American history greater it appears than right wing Republicans, was Abigail Adams, wife of the second president of the United States (and who incidentally was against slavery). He also discussed Eleanor Roosevelt as well with passing references to Rosalyn Carter and Nancy Reagan. All ladies with opinions and husbands who were man enough to listen to them.

(Two points as an aside. Firstly listening to your wife doesn't mean you're a weak man. Secondly my wife always says I don't listen, though to be fair to me it's either when I've returned from the afternoon/evening shift at work....or when I'm watching sports)

The point is that it reminded me that throughout her career Hilary Clinton has been subjected to one attack or another throughout her career. Whether it was Whitewater or Benghazi or whatever the only thing that ever stuck was her use of emails and that was it. Yet the relentless attacks meant that the qualified candidate was beaten by a tangerine nightmare.

It also made me wonder whether in a smaller way Leanne Wood the leader of Plaid Cymru, the party I support is experiencing something similar. Whether it's a party colleague saying he would like to be leader should she step down (the caveat not being mentioned in the headlines) or a manic reaction from right wingers over a tweet. This all seems to be a similar reaction to when a woman threatens the establishment "status quo".

Amazing where passing the time because of insomnia leads you to.

I'd rather have a full night's sleep though.

Until the next time.

Welsh Labour Arrogance: Maesteg Update

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Leaving aside the fact that I still work there, I've been finding that, despite the fact that I live in the Vale of Glamorgan and wish possibly in the future to move to Treorchy, that Bridgend still seems to be calling me back in one way or another in an unexpected manner.

On Thursday I received on Twitter a rumour with regard to Bridgend. Won't say what that rumour was because I couldn't substantiate it (except that it's nothing to do with Ford) but whilst looking into this I stumbled on the latest news regarding Maesteg Indoor market.

I originally chatted about this on a post in October last year. But to summarise briefly Maesteg Town hall is used amongst other things as a stage venue with an indoor market at the basement. Apparently it needs substantial repairs. Bridgend Labour council's proposal is to create a "cultural hub" (you can see the dead hand of a marketing consultant there) with the merger of two current libraries in the area to be situated where the indoor market is currently situated.

In summary. After 135 years of service to the Maesteg community Bridgend Labour Council were going to close down the market.

Since then and despite a valiant effort to save their site. The stall holders and the workers there have been hampered by a perception from the people in the town that the closure could not be stopped, when this was not necessarily the case. Consequently business reduced and profits tumbled. Most businesses have either relocated or closed down. Amongst those relocating are the Maesteg Animal Welfare Society (MAWS) stall where as I've mentioned before I've bought a wide range of books at great value .

There will, according to the report I read,  be one stallholder left by the end of next month. So unless a miracle of biblical proportions occurs Bridgend Labour Council would have won.

In terms of villains winning it's on a par with Brexit and President Trump.

And this vision of a "cultural hub" is, as I've mentioned before, typical Welsh Labour and very typical Bridgend Labour Council. Concentrate on some grandiose plan and seemingly do hardly anything towards the fundamental problems the area has. I would bet that if they were asked whether they just wanted repairs done to the site but nothing fancy otherwise actioned (which I suspect would cost less) and any extra money improving say, education, then the people of Maesteg would be happy enough. But no, Bridgend Labour council knows best. They want a "cultural hub" and a "cultural hub" it will be. And if Bridgend LABOUR has to be cruel and ruthless in a very Tory manner to small businesses to get their wish then so be it.

Potentially though this (I will assume) victory could be hollow. The council wish to use EU money that they have applied for but are not certain they will get. Throughout this whole issue I've not read anywhere of a "Plan B" should their application be rejected. There seems to have been an arrogant assumption that it would be accepted and they'll get the cash.

But what if their application is refused? What then? Let's assume that Plan B doesn't exist. What will happen to the town hall? Is it just going to rot to death? Will it be the first in Maesteg to follow a downhill spiral like the urban mess the council have made to Bridgend Town?

If there is no Plan B then Bridgend Labour Council have acted as if they have just made an agreed offer on a house and then discovered they can't afford a mortgage. For arrogance, cruelty, ruthlessness add incompetence as well.

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.