My Mum is mental

Christmas day is over and today is Boxing day. If my Dad was still alive he would have been 80 today so my thoughts are with him. He died 4 days into the new millennium following a stroke on New Year's day, 2000.

That's the maudlin bit over.

My Mum, Marj, who lives next door to me with my Sister and Nephew, is 76 in January and she is a nutter. Not in a medically recognised way but you know what i mean.

I took these photo's today because they bring to mind what my Father had to go through on a daily basis living with Marj.

Marj likes nothing better than to potter in the garden or take a saw to things -even better if she can take a saw to things in the garden. You can often find her trundling down the garden path -tooled up- to cut things in half.

To my Dad's chagrin she would also enjoy sawing things in the house -not take things into the house and saw them to bits - but saw things that belonged in the house.

If the table in the kitchen rocked a little she would not prop something under the one leg, oh no, she would saw the other 3 legs instead.

Dad had gone out instead of mowing the lawns. This made Marj mad and when Marj is mad out comes the saw.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, my Dad expected the bed to be in tact when he came home and instead, it was about a foot lower and as he went to get in, it wasn't where he expected it to be and promptly fell in, rather than slink in.
"Tell me it's lower because you just took one mattress off and we can make it better in the morning", he said.
"Ah", she replied.
"You sawed the legs off, didn't you?" , he said.
"Yup", she said.

Happy xmas to all my readers

Not blogged for a while and had hoped for something a tad more interesting/funny to post but that will have to wait til next time.

So you'll have to do with a simple xmas message.

I hope you all have a good Christmas but if you don't subscribe to that -for any reason - then enjoy the holiday and let those of us who subscribe to the overly-hyped bullshit do so, and let us enjoy calling it Christmas too and not some insidious P.C. alternative.
















I promised Molly i would put up a photo of the tree so here it is.
In the top one, you can just about make out Alice in her ballet gear in the photo on the wall.

The other photo is of : Alice, my wife Sarah and Rosie.

It's not every day...

It's not every day you get overtaken by two loaves of bread when driving on the M4. But yesterday was my day.

There I was trundling along the outside lane of the M4 just outside Bristol when the car in front broke down. I stopped and waited to get in the middle lane when all of a sudden, two loaves of bread went past. I kid you not. A blue loaf of bread and a red loaf of bread doing about 60 mph.

Like any other normal person would at 8:30 in the morning, I put it down to tiredness and old age and made a mental note to revisit the optician.

Lo and behold, when my lane got moving again, I passed them; only this time the red one was in front.

The "loaves of bread" were in fact VW camper-style vans done up complete with idiotic looking people driving them.

So I checked -as you do -their web site. Look what I found. If nothing else, I can now postpone the trip to the head doctor. Turns out you can win a chance to drive one. Yeah, right. I'd rather stick a banjo up my arse - round end first.












Oh, before I forget. You tossers out there who work for the Highways department. It took me 4 fucking hours to get to west London yesterday instead of the normal 2 1/2 .

This is because you idiots have collected the most cones you can find and arbitrarily put them along the hard shoulder for as many miles as you can, thus slowing the traffic down to a crawl along most of the 150 mile stretch. And why? So you can carry out work to put up driver information boards, which will tell us there are delays due to slow-moving traffic! How Englishly ironic is that?

When the work is done, we can now be happy in the knowledge that we are not moving anywhere because it will be written on a board the size of Kent. I have news for you: WE ALREADY KNOW WE ARE NOT MOVING -Arse Wipes. If you have our interests at heart, put a movie on the fucking things and turn the M4 into a drive-in movie carpark; I could have watched the Lord of The Ring trilogy the time I spent in the carpark yesterday.

P.S.

If you do turn it into a drive-in, can we have some large-breasted women offering snacks at frequent intervals, please?

Oh Crap

You'll have to forgive the last blog, not exactly a professional lay out of photo's ay?

Basement Jam

Elena Perez kindly sent me these photos all the way from Madrid, Spain. Elena has not got a blog but wanted to share these with you.

BTW Elena is the one in the photo with Simon.

Thanks Elena.

I Hate London Rant.

Nah, not really; London is an o.k. place, it's just the taxi drivers who are wankers.

We now have 24 hour opening in some pubs in the U.K. but do you think i could find one in London on Wednesday? Correct -no. So after being forced to leave the pub at 11pm, we tried flagging a taxi down to take us into Soho. There's more chance me growing breasts.

So to all you taxi drivers in London land, the home of people who don't speak to each other, fuck you, i went home not pissed(drunk) enough thanks to you.

The ever-evolving sheep.

It is a little known fact that sheep are very intelligent. Although there are many different breeds, the Welsh version is probably the cleverest. I kid you not. (that's an unintended Goat pun there)

In terms of culture etc., you can split Wales, and its sheep, into the North and South variety.

In the north, they have proper mountain ranges. E.G. Snowdonia. In the south we have "mountains". When you consider that we call a small hump in a field a hill, you can imagine what we call mountains.

I digress.

Based on the above terrain, our sheep have evolved differently, but very, very ingeniously. I will tell you about the southern sheep as they are the ones I know best. (not in a biblical way tho)

Thousands of years ago, before the invasion of Anglo Saxons and Romans, sheep were happy grazing on the flatlands of the Vale of Glamorgan and other such places. Due to the ever-expanding population of our fair country the sheep were pushed up to the hilly places where man was less prevalent. Trouble was, sheep weren't much good on the slopes. If they pointed directly down the hill, all the blood would rush to their heads causing them to pass out. If they pointed directly up the hill men of questionable sexual preference would creep up on them and have their wicked way.
To combat this the sheep, en mass, decided that the desired stance was across the slope, thus canceling out the previous risks.

This brought a further problem: Standing sideways meant that they were leaning slightly and, in high winds, they would fall over.

Mother nature took over and sheep, through natural evolution, developed shorter legs on one side of their body; some left-handed, some right. You may think I'm kidding (another goat pun) but this has been scientifically proved. Although early scientists thought that the sheep just dug holes to put their legs in, work by the Welsh Naturalist, David David (or Dai twice as he was known), made them a laughing stock. "It was simple", he said, "how can sheep dig holes?, they can't hold a shovel!" subsequent measuring of the sheep has indeed shown that the legs are different lengths.

The only thing I know about north Wales sheep is that, due to the extent of rainfall, they have webbed feet at the end of their differently sized legs. Of course, it goes without saying (but I will anyway), that the extent of the differing leg size is more pronounced in the north due to the steeper slope.


Here is a picture of Dai Twice measuring a sheep. This is a right-handed sheep. Note that the sheep's front left and rear left legs are bent at the knee. This is because it is standing on level ground and must compensate for the shorter right legs. You will also note that Dai's wearing a small tractor tyre on his head. This helps when the male sheep want to head-butt him when he's trying to "milk" them.

A Hermaphrodite Snow Sculpture

It started snowing here about 12pm last night. By the time I got up we had about 4" of snow. (That's 10cm in foreign language)

For those of you who don't know how it works over here, we haven't had much snow in the last 10 years' or so. When it comes it's a big deal. Everyone goes to Tesco's and buys the whole effing place. People with trolleys full of bread, milk and anything else not nailed down, batter the crap out of each other to get back to their cars before it even starts snowing.

Why?

Because at the merest hint of a snowdrop, the roads get blocked. Our infrastructure here relies on under-funded local councils gritting the road. They do their best, love them, but it's crap.

For the love of God how do you manage in Canada? If the brits still ran it you would be shut for half of the year.

K, rant over. The upside of the snow is that it looks so Goddamn pretty. I took some photos this morning. The scenic one looks over my back garden toward the north Devon/Somerset coast line. (usually visible on a clear day).













The next is of Tommy. He is standing still trying to camouflage himself so he doesn't have to go for a walk. (You are white, Tommy, but not that white, dude.)
















The last photo is my snow sculpture. To be politically correct (and the aforementioned council are trying to ban the word Christmas for the offence it causes) we can no longer build snowmen. No, it excludes snow-women. So to keep it equal I built a hermaphrodite one. It has tits and a knob too!. Classic.

My studio!

I watched a short film made by Pete Townshend yesterday; he took us on a tour of his home studio. Ha, I thought. I have one too!

Trouble is, compared to his, mine is a bit of a joke. No, a really big joke with the bestest, funniest punch-line in the world.

I know I don't have his money (I don't have any money, it's borrowed) so I guess it can't be expected ay?

Anyway, I have a Spirit SX mixing desk powered by a 100watt Yamaha amp and Tannoy Reveal, passive speakers.

The small gray unit is an 8 track Tascam DP-01FX. I cant make up my mind whether to use this or Cubasis, which I have on my PC so I tend to alternate between the two. I also have Fruity Loops on the PC, which I use for drum loops etc and other weird sounds.

I have 3 mics of varying ability and I recently bought an AP audio condensing mic. I never heard of it but the guy in the shop said they were very good -especially at the price and I have to agree. Not a Rode or AKG but it has a great sound and is not overly sensitive. Great for recording the ambient drum sounds.

My other kit comprises of: An EKO acoustic guitar, which I've had for 28 years, a Washburn, Les Paul copy (hanging on the wall), a Yamaha SY35 keyboard and a Tama Rockstar drum kit.

Oh, hours of fun can be had with this lot. If only I had someone to show me how to put it all together.

Pete Townshend, eat your heart out loser.

P.S. The photograph on the wall to the left of the PC is unique. It is of Roger Daltrey at the NEC, Birmingham, '89 during the Tommy tour. I took it myself but the flash didn't work, which in the end worked out better. The two white dots on the picture are used PT plectrums. oh, the crap i keep.

I hate Rugby

For those of you uninitiated people, the UK is basically four countries united by hundreds of years' of infighting. (Scotland, England, Wales and Northern Ireland)

People claim -although some historians disagree- that the Welsh are the indigenous people of this land; akin to the American Indians and Australian Aborigine.
To be frank, I couldn't care less if we are, or are not. What I do care about is that I was born, bred and live to this day in Wales. I speak the lingo a bit, but I'm not fluent.

It has long been held (mostly by the Welsh but by others who wish to stereotype us) that ALL Welsh people:

• Are good singers
• Are short; and ginger of head
• Live like Trolls in a cave
• Untrustworthy
• Drink too much
• We shag sheep
• (and worse of all) we all like Rugby.

My answer to these are:

• Have you heard Charlotte Church lately? Can't hold a tune in a bucket.
• Ok, got me on that one.
• We now have electricity in our caves so we now call them apartments.
• No, we're not, trust me
• Ok, got me on that one too
• Er...
• Oh no we fucking don't.

I hate living here when we have an international rugby match playing. For weeks before, our national newspaper, The Western Mail has it on the front page as well as several of the sport's pages. The front page for God's sake! The local news has endless interviews with fuckwit, ex players who can just about pronounce their own name -let alone conduct a lucid chat; We have mini dramas between programs showing idiotic fans with large daffodils; and that twat, Max Boyce, sings crappy comedy songs.

WHY?

The game is played by dunces, whose greatest collective achievement is sticking their heads between each others' arse and falling over.

The game is watched by overweight lardarses whose main ambition is to wave at themselves when on camera. And that's just the women. (the guys are too stupid to do two things at once. i.e. wave and stand up)

And if that doesn't put you off, there is always Eddie fucking Butler! What a git.

I really can't see why the game is so revered in this country -it's not as if we are any good at it.

More people watch Cardiff City soccer team train than actually go to a first-class rugby club game in Cardiff.

So, in winding up my rant I would like to offer this: You can abuse me as much as you want; you can call me untrustworthy; you can insult my cave; you can say I speak a dying language. But please, please, please, do not call me a rugby supporter.

Bugger

A tad harder today. i'm in the office and trying to keep busy but it keeps popping into my head. "It's fag time."
I am resisting by replying, "Ok, i'll have one after doing so-and-so." That keeps it at bay for a while. I am wearing a patch today and nearly ripped it off my arm, rolled it up and set light to it so i could smoke that instead but i guess that would just be stupid.

Off on a couple of visits tomorrow so that should keep my brain more occupied. Then again, i have to go to Swansea and Newport and if you have ever been there, you will understand that they are enough to make the Pope smoke dope so...

Day 1

Today i attempted to give up smoking. I usually do about 20 a day.

I had to drive to Bristol today for a seminar and i find that i smoke quite a lot when driving, so it was a tough start to the day but i made it- nicotine-free. Having to sit in a large lecture theatre for hours on end also helped. I buckled at 2PM though. Some colleagues went out for a smoke at lunch time and i just had to join in. Damn it.

I also had one on the way home. My excuse is that it takes about 90 minutes to drive home and the traffic was heavy. I actually bought a pack of 10 on the way back and have left them in the car. Perhaps i should get the kids to hide them.

Anyway. I tried - i failed, but not as badly as i thought. I always have the patches to drop back on if it gets any worse.

Tommy

Ah, Tommy is a Bichon Frise. As you can see from the blurb below, he comes from the Mediterranean. Well that's not strictly true, he came from down the road. His little legs wouldn't have got him here really, would they? And he doesn't read maps or catch trains.

Also in the blurb below, it says he found early success in Spain, which is more than Michael Owen did.

If you visit dog shows or the such, you will normally see these dogs ponced up with stupid hair-do's . Not mine.

Tommy's hobbies are:

• Eating the heels of my shoes if inadvertently left out at night.
• Barking.
• Sniffing the cat's arse and then running away
• Posing for pictures.
• Turning rusty. (evidenced in this photo)
  
  My tips for these dogs are:
• Pick your shoes up.
• Let them bark a bit.
• Unless you like watching them sniffing cats' arses- get rid of the cat.
• Don't take too many photo's as they tend to get a bit star-struck and become unbearable.
• Don't let them out in the rain.
  
  The Blurb (ripped from the Kennel Club of America site. Ta muchly)
  The Bichon descended from the Barbet or Water-Spaniel, from which came the name "Barbichon", later contracted to Bichon.
  The Bichon was developed in the Mediterranean area.
  Appreciated for their dispositions, Bichons traveled much through antiquity, finding early success in Spain and frequently used as items of barter internationally.
  Bichons were rediscovered by the Italians in the 14th century and became great favorites of Italian nobility.
  The "Teneriffe" ("Teneriffe" being the Canary Island) or "Bichon" made its appearance in France under Francis I, the patron of the Renaissance, but its greatest success was in the court of Henry III.
  The Bichon was also a favorite in Spain, becoming a favorite of the Infantas and painters of the Spanish school (the breed is featured in a number of Goya's paintings).

Weaning off the weed

November the 1st is the day I stop smoking. I have done it before so I know I can do it again. I smoke 20 a day and it costs a fortune.

The last time I gave up, I went 6 years without wanting a fag. I started again by having one now and again when I went to the pub. I was in control. 2 fags in a night then nothing for ages. Trouble is, it creeps up on you and the next thing I know, bugger, I'm smoking again.

Have been back on them for about 3 years now. It will be harder this time because when I gave up the first time, I worked with my hands and kept myself busy; now I either sit at my desk at home or travel a lot in the car for work. It's at those times I'm at my most needy.

Only 6 more days to go, wish me luck.

Oh my aching arms.

As it happens, the first gig went quite well. Started our first set and the reaction was a bit muted.
Second half I told the other guys to turn it up to stop people talking. (Pete Townshend once said: People come to hear me, I don't want to hear them.)

It worked. People actually took a bit of notice and got off their arse and danced.
Dropped a stick during 'Substitute' but I think I got away with it. My arms still ache, which proves I'm not fit enough to be a drummer and that it's probably due to me smoking.

Which leads me on to my next post.

First Gig

Playing my first gig with Spiny Norman tomorrow, Friday 21st October.

Had our final practice last night. We sounded very rusty and tired. Hope it doesn't carry forward to tomorrow.

We are playing in St. Mellons, Cardiff and I think it's a retirement do. Oh my god they will all probably be over 60 and we will be too loud.

F..k 'em.