2006-04-22 - 2006-06-24
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0000798f | 2006-04-22T15:43:16Z | location | -mt4-
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huw stops his pint of beer in mid-air for the photograph
00003563.jpg | 2006-04-22T15:43:18Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
00007990 | 2006-04-22T23:59:58Z | location | -mt4-
 
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water snails and tadpoles
0000356d.ogg | 2006-04-24T10:52:24Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
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water snails and tadpoles
0000356e.jpg | 2006-04-24T11:02:24Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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blue sky, pink clouds and tall trees; distant birdsong
00003572.ogg | 2006-04-27T19:42:10Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
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tulip by the front path
00003574.jpg | 2006-04-28T09:02:40Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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sunset at the great western
00003576.ogg | 2006-04-28T18:57:00Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
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wine bottle and glass at the shere punjab restaurant
00003578.jpg | 2006-04-28T19:17:24Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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wine glass reflected in spoon at the shere punjab restaurant
00003579.jpg | 2006-04-28T19:47:16Z | photography | -mt1-
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tulips by the front path
0000357b.jpg | 2006-04-29T12:01:10Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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water lily leaves and grass clippings in the pond
000035ab.jpg | 2006-05-03T12:31:50Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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white blossom by the ring road
000035ae.jpg | 2006-05-03T14:50:32Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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frost-bitten figs
000035b5.jpg | 2006-05-05T11:35:10Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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blackbird song and cherry blossom
000035b6.ogg | 2006-05-05T14:34:46Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
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frog lurking underwater at the edge of the pond
000035ba.jpg | 2006-05-05T14:43:38Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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high branch of blossom by the fence; moon; airliner?
000035bb.jpg | 2006-05-05T14:45:24Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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new fig leaves
000035bc.jpg | 2006-05-05T14:49:26Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
00006266 | 2006-05-07T18:12:59Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
00006267 | 2006-05-07T18:13:01Z | radio > rx > mode | -mt4-
00007992 | 2006-05-09T14:28:22Z | location | -mt4-
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pint of timothy taylor landlord, jean and blossom
000035be.jpg | 2006-05-09T14:29:18Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
00007993 | 2006-05-09T23:59:58Z | location | -mt4-
0000626d | 2006-05-10T13:01:45Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
0000626e | 2006-05-10T13:01:47Z | radio > rx > mode | -mt4-
0000626f | 2006-05-10T17:35:46Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
00006388 | 2006-05-10T19:03:04Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
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robin sings at the moon
000035bf.ogg | 2006-05-10T20:24:02Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
00006270 | 2006-05-10T21:13:59Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
00006271 | 2006-05-10T21:14:01Z | radio > rx > mode | -mt4-
00006268 | 2006-05-11T11:33:22Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
00006269 | 2006-05-11T11:33:24Z | radio > rx > mode | -mt4-
0000626a | 2006-05-11T13:24:04Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
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jean approaching the church inn, ludlow
000035c2.jpg | 2006-05-11T15:43:36Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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leaving ludlow
000035c3.ogg | 2006-05-11T16:52:28Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
00007994 | 2006-05-11T17:30:26Z | location | -mt4-
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jean and pint on a bench on the platform
000035c4.jpg | 2006-05-11T17:52:00Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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under the carriage at the platform; `the birmingham railway carriage & wagon co ltd smethwick; builders; 1949
000035c5.jpg | 2006-05-11T17:53:00Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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jean and paul on a bench on the platform
000035c6.jpg | 2006-05-11T18:00:32Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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paul and hotplate at the shere punjab restaurant
000035c7.jpg | 2006-05-11T19:07:10Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
00007995 | 2006-05-11T20:00:00Z | location | -mt4-
0000626b | 2006-05-13T22:23:23Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
0000626c | 2006-05-13T22:23:25Z | radio > rx > mode | -mt4-
00006272 | 2006-05-14T12:09:45Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
00006273 | 2006-05-14T12:09:47Z | radio > rx > mode | -mt4-
00006274 | 2006-05-16T14:23:24Z | radio > rx > frequency (mhz) | -mt4-
00007996 | 2006-05-21T13:38:30Z | location | -mt4-
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my brew of the moment; hereford pale ale (hpa) from the wye valley brewery
000035c8.jpg | 2006-05-21T13:38:32Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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paul and john
000035c9.jpg | 2006-05-21T14:49:54Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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a huge blob of strawberry ice cream arrives for john
000035ca.ogg | 2006-05-21T14:50:08Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
00007997 | 2006-05-21T17:23:30Z | location | -mt4-
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john's glasses on the table
000035cb.jpg | 2006-05-21T17:24:28Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
00007998 | 2006-05-21T18:30:00Z | location | -mt4-
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lots of greens under a blue sky; garden waste bin; daisies; trellis; wistaria; et cetera
000035cd.jpg | 2006-05-23T11:01:04Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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titterstone clee hill behind flashing scenery from the train
000035d0.ogg | 2006-05-24T10:46:36Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
00007999 | 2006-05-24T19:26:28Z | location | -mt4-
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paul tries to explain the location of a restaurant near brecon to brenda and a weary-looking trevor
000035d2.ogg | 2006-05-24T19:26:30Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
0000799a | 2006-05-24T23:59:58Z | location | -mt4-
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candle, wine and a texting paul at the indian restaurant on cowbridge road
000035d3.jpg | 2006-05-25T20:47:30Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
0000799b | 2006-05-26T16:27:14Z | location | -mt4-
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bird house, climbing frame, slide and rooftops; gloomy weather
000035d4.jpg | 2006-05-26T16:27:28Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
0000799c | 2006-05-26T23:59:58Z | location | -mt4-
0000799d | 2006-05-27T14:01:36Z | location | -mt4-
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foggy front path
000035d5.ogg | 2006-05-27T14:04:12Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
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father rejecter by the urinal
000035d6.jpg | 2006-05-27T15:38:22Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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swallow on the fence
000035d7.jpg | 2006-05-27T15:41:12Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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swallow on the fence
000035d8.ogg | 2006-05-27T15:41:46Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
0000799e | 2006-05-27T23:59:58Z | location | -mt4-
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jackdaws strutting in front of the old hospital
000035d9.ogg | 2006-05-28T09:55:12Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
0000799f | 2006-05-28T15:16:36Z | location | -mt4-
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drinks and fags
000035dd.jpg | 2006-05-28T19:48:22Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
000079a0 | 2006-05-28T20:22:00Z | location | -mt4-
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peony on the path by the front door
000035de.jpg | 2006-05-31T10:18:46Z | photography | -mt1-
I arrived at the `odd' platform, which meant that I would have to leave the station and re-enter it, using the London Underground type gates to access the other platforms. Of course, the Apex ticket I had purchased online would not fit in the slots provided, so I had to wave for an Arriva drone to press a button to open the disabled persons' gate for me and a considerable number of others.
Despite this disappointment, I found some amusement in one of the two new hand washers in the gents' toilet. I put my hands where the symbols appropriate to soaping, washing and drying were, and the device performed such actions accordingly.
Having been tipped off by both pa and ma (since ma had taken her time in reading my text messages), gramps was there to meet me. As arranged, we departed for Fairwater Conservatives' Club, where we drank HB and I won 3-1.
On the way back to Rhiwbina, I requested a stop at the Deri, where I bought a pint of Black Sheep for gramps and a Young's Bitter for myself. The latter was like vinegar and, gramps having confirmed this, I exchanged it for a not-too-bad Black Sheep.
Gran's usual vegetable soup was as good as usual. My second bowl I enjoyed with the Simpsons.
And then, as I was nodding off on the sofa at about 1900, I received a call from pa, who wanted a lift home in the rain. We departed almost straight away, then picked pa up and drove him to Chapter, where I got my first look at the car park at the rear. Our walk under pa's umbrella was brief, and we were soon drinking Archer's Summer's Coming, of all things. That brew was new to me, though, over time, Archer's seem to have had a lot of beers that do not differ much. Gran offered gramps' services again, at the point of leaving us in Penllyn Road. I was to call him on the morrow, if I wanted to play more snooker.
I called at about 1225, when he had picked gran up from town. I just needed a shower, but then I was distracted by text messages from ma and pa, so gramps had to wait in the street for a few moments.
Gramps played some fine safety shots, that afternoon. It was an uninspired but tense affair. I won the fifth and deciding frame 3-2, after which gramps delivered me to North Road, whence I made my way to Wetherspoon's, Windsor Place.
Pa had asked me whether I would like to be introduced to a delightful member of his staff, and I had declined. However, I was prepared for the possibility that he would bring her anyway, so, when a second figure appeared in the doorway, I was patient. The woman turned out to be his Virgo-Libra (the same as Jonesy, I think) secretary, Lisa.
I looked along the bar for a member of staff to take my order for their welcome drink, but I soon lost interest. But then, a friendly face appeared, surprising me a little. I said, "h'lo," à la John Dring, and she mirrored my greeting. And then began a sequence of stares that told me that she was opening a door. We on our side of the bar had some good chat about films and things, but the most interesting thing was the staring girl with the dimples.
I hugged Lisa at the end of the road (she said `awww', of course), before pa and I resumed our crawl for curry. It was Thursday evening, so our starting point might have sufficed, but we wanted the `real' thing.
My brief look in at the Park Vaults was unattractive, so we eventually reached Wetherspoon's, Westgate Street, where we both tried Evan Evans FSA (or something). It was well-served, but coffee-ish and strange.
I began rehydrating at the Westgate, which was clean and well-lit, despite outward appearances. Pa's pint was Brain's SA.
And then to the Bengal Brasserie, where they had introduced both lunch and evening buffets. Our evening one was eight pounds each. Pa spent a further eight on red wine, which was all for him. The jug of water was nice though, as was the food, though I ended up eating a few things that weren't on my list.
And, after `The Americans Hit Town', that was Thursday.
Ma had instructed me to ring Billy on Friday morning, in case he should take Dilys out or someone should like a piano lesson. I called at around 1100, by which time he had already recognised that Friday was Keith's day for the Dilys activity. (Ma had spotted that the day before.) There would be no mention of a piano lesson all day, but he said that he would ring back in half an hour.
Receiving no such call, I accepted ma's invitation to join her and Jo at the Park Plaza hotel for Jo's birthday lunch. Ma had travelled from Wolverhampton that morning, bringing a lot of luggage for her and pa's forthcoming trip to Scotland.
Ma drove us to pa's place of work and parked the car. We were blown about by the wind at first, but the rain was not very heavy.
Jo was waiting for us in the lobby, where ma presented her with a Wallis bag, which contained something not from Wallis. Ma went to prepare herself, while Jo and I engaged each other in the usual chatter.
In the bar, ma showed us the details of the Wolverhampton house she would like to live in. Jo opened her present; it was a night shirt that was `her'. She loved it. I ordered a Campari and soda. And we each enjoyed a smoked haddock risotto with a poached egg on top.
I missed the nearby toilets, so asked the girl behind the front desk where the gents were. (Was every member of staff a Russian?) She pointed across the lobby to a long corridor of meeting rooms, at the end of which I found what I was looking for. And how cool it was! Immaculately black.
After an explosive start in the multi-storey car park (caused by Jo turning the ignition key while in reverse), I was given a painful lift through very little rain to a place which left me almost as much distance to traverse as I had at the hotel. My destination was again Wetherspoon's, Windsor Place, in case the dimpled one would be there.
I sat on a table for four in the middle of the newly smoke-free pub, watching the front of the place, much as I used to do at Hogshead, Cheltenham. No dimply darling appeared in a couple of hours, so I aimed for the other end of Queen Street.
I entered the Westgate primarily to relieve my bladder, but I had nurtured an interest in the Brain's Dark I had neglected, on my previous visit with pa. A rodential young supervisor guided a new employee through serving a few people. Both the pint of beer and the pint of water (described by the supervisor, as he leaned under the bar to fill it, as a `pain in the arse') were very good. Again, the cricket was on one large telly and one smaller one.
Perhaps at about 1700, I reached Billy's house. I had received no offer of musical employment, but I wanted to check in with my people in any case. Sally was keen on me as ever and, in stark contrast to our last meeting, Scarlett was quite chatty. And those two were the only visible souls in the place.
Scarlett returned to standing on her toes on top of the coffee table, exclaiming that she thought there was a toad or something hopping about the place. I looked for it, but could find nothing, until one of the new kittens, Mushroom or Magpie (I think), left a dead bird in the sitting room.
There was no kitchen towel, so Scarlett equipped me with some lavatory paper, of which I took enough to pick up the corpse (could it have been another baby starling, such as we think drowned in the mop bucket I had to throw away?) in some comfort and escort it to the furthest part of the garden.
As I followed the path, I looked around and realised what a death trap the place was: a proper, bushy garden, with twists and turns and long grass; no place for a fledgling.
I used a spoon that was lying around to dig a hole that needed to be deeper than the one I dug at the base of the fig here. I covered up the body, then used a spoon and a doubled-up twig to make a cross. I think it was Scarlett who then suggested, "it could have been a Muslim." But not until I was back in the sitting room, where she had remained, shaken.
However, she had summoned enough courage to lecture in bold tones the offending kitten on the evils of birdicide, which was very impressive.
And then, she showed me her Kooks (another band she had seen live) t-shirt, since she was ironing something to wear out for a meal with her friends. I told her that the song, whose video I had seen on one of the music channels, was pants. She replied that the lead singer didn't like it either. Anyway, she looked good in it, as she had looked good in what she had been wearing and whatever she might have chosen to put on. Her form is marvellous.
I was playing the piano when Naomi and the other kittens returned. Violet was chatty and Michael monstrous, which they remained all evening.
Scarlett went out. I made music on piano, recorder and tupperware with Violet, and gave shoulder rides to both of them, some of which were simultaneous.
At tea time, I received a buttery smear on my temple from Michael's plate of beans on toast, followed by a squashed bean.
One of Violet's shoulder rides led to the top of the house, and a post office assembly exercise, over which she and I disagreed somewhat, resulting in my Scarlett-like dismissal.
The music was the most memorable. Violet played upturned biscuits vessels on the floor and sang `If You're Happy And You Know It'. I attempted some accompaniment. My first gig! She sang, "if you really want to show it and you're happy and you know it," a few times before I corrected her. She denied it at first, but then sang it correctly and was satisfied.
And then, I was relegated to the drums, and then to the recorder, as she took to the keyboard (bang, bang) for a few verses of `The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round'. Eventually, the recorder became superfluous, as I was required to imitate the motion of the wheels and the wipers and the knitting and the chatting (or whatever).
I played `All Too Soon' and sang `Please Forgive Me', which Naomi enjoyed, from the computer chair, I think.
Billy came home, and did the usual cold warring with Naomi, before preparing pancakes for Michael. (My forehead would take some more grease before the evening was done.) I kept playing the piano, which Billy enjoyed, but Michael again chose to disrupt.
However, instead of letting him get away with his `I'm watching you' game, in which he would close the piano lid whenever I resumed playing, I would chase him whenever he came close, which drove him wild.
And then, I watched `Have I Got News For You' with Billy and Naomi, followed by bits of all sorts of entertainment. Billy likes a bit of science semi-fiction, so we sat through a bit of `the blue moon', which is the earth-like place they have discovered near Alpha Centauri. Strange creatures abounded, and it was all rather geeky. Scarlett had returned, and was on her mother's side in wanting to watch something else.
Eventually, the two juniors were in bed and Naomi too had disappeared. Billy, Scarlett and I were left watching `The Mummy', through which there was some good banter between us. I might then have mentioned `The Adventures Of Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert', which I have now sent to Scarlett, as some sort of late birthday present.
And so, it was past midnight when Scarlett had gone to bed, not fancying another episode of Top Gear, and Billy had gone out for another fag. My solitude was apparently the `cat'-alyst for one of the kittens to leap onto my lap and leave shit on my trousers.
I left soon after, and put the trousers in the machine for a dawn cycle.
The trousers were clean at about 0830. I switched off all the radiators, except for the one in the hall, put the trousers on it and called for heat. They were dry in plenty of time for my collection, which should have been at 1245.
Gran and gramps arrived at about 1300, to take me through dismal Glamorgan mists to the Plough and Harrow, Monknash.
The smoke from the fire smelled sweet as we entered. Having bought a pint and a half of HPA and a pint of Cwrw Hâf, we saw only full tables and reserved ones. But a couple of friendly fellows on the table next to the bar invited us to share their space.
The Cwrw Hâf was gramps' only alcohol, but I went on to try an RCH Pitchfork and two more HPAs, some of which gran joined me for halves of. The HPA was the best.
A couple of pretty faces were evident during our stay, and plenty of banter was audible, such as, "do you mind not eating while I'm smoking?"
We talked about a lot of things, including gramps' and Dave's early musical experiences. And I mentioned Nielsen's symphony number five, which I then thought of mentioning to Gareth in America. And then gran suggested that she buy it for her. And then I thought to Amazon it to her, which I have duly done.
On the front wall of the place was a sparrow nest, which was audible on the way to and from the gents' toilet.
Upon collecting our final round of drinks, I commented to the bargirl, "you've probably heard this before, but this place is bloody marvellous." She didn't have a lot to say to that.
As gramps collected the car, I crossed the road to photograph a swallow on the fence. Taking some time and getting quite close (and being forgetful), I did not manage to return to the place I had spotted while walking from the car with gramps, on our way in.
We intended to return for Cardiff against Munster. However, my last beer and plentiful chat had delayed us, such that only a small period of the first half remained to be watched.
I was hungry, so I set about cooking my garlicky shiitake mushroom thing with feta cheese, for everyone. It didn't take me long, and it went down pretty well.
And then, I set about playing most of my music, some of which worked pretty well, despite the booze. (I was already rehydrating nicely.)
After more of Mike (gramps' writing friend)'s German jazz festival video tape, featuring Benny Green and the like, gramps took me home, offering me still more chauffeuring in the morning, should I require it.
I did not require any lift on the Sunday morning, because the weather was fine. All the same, I fulfilled my promise to contact gramps at 1000, to let him off the hook.
I set off for the station in plenty of time (1045) for the 1125 to Manchester, Holyhead and Shrewsbury. (The six-coach train would split into three at Shrewsbury.) The delay was about 18 minutes, with a five minute change awaiting me.
The journey was an unmemorable affair, but a text message I sent to ma and pa, who had gone to the Golden Grove for lunch, now reminds me of something that I passed just before Craven Arms station. On my side of the train, a young girl leaned over a spiky fence in my direction, to reach around a playground bin to deposit a sweet wrapper. I was quite touched.
The wait for a following train was mercifully short, and I was soon marching home through Wolverhampton. I had a slightly inferior pint of HPA in the garden of the Newhampton Inn; it was good to look at, but just a little musty. The bar was very smoky, so I was glad of the upturn in climate. Some of the people there were not very savoury.
The same could be said for the Mitre, where a Havana band was warming up for a barbeque event. However, I was soon thrown into some friendly and more attractive company, because of whom I would become very ill. (I still am, at least a bit.)
Having purchased a pint of Old Speckled Hen, and realising that indoors would be too smoky for me, I sat outside the doors at the front of the restaurant, within which the band would play.
A couple of fellas and an infant boy arrived at a seatless table beside me, which prompted me to invite them to join me. I forget the name of the beardy one who introduced himself to me, but I think that Glen was the father of the boy. We sat around for a bit, before more of their friends arrived and soon filled our table. Glen wasn't around for long.
Beardy, whose face I eventually likened to that of Hugh Dennis, was a very insistent drinking partner. It was because of this that I would end up imbibing another four and a half pints of my strong brew. Guinness was his tipple. He played number seven in the rugby team, and his had been voted number four arse by the supporters.
I don't remember much of other peoples' stories, except that Liv Tyler (see photographs) had worked at Headingley but didn't know Whitelocks. She had been to the conclusion of the test match at Edgbaston, that day.
Her blonde friend, who had a matching sac, talked to me awhile about buying the old teddy bear shop on Upper Green and opening it as a café, I think. I offered my piano playing services, for what it was worth.
A chatty woman had three boys with her (at least I think they were all with her), two of whom reminded me of Elijah Wood's brother in `The Ice Storm'. The third boy was a good cricketer, and joined some men and boys on the green to play.
The chatty woman's friend provided my first identification of the day. She looked like Hugo Weaving out of `The Matrix'. Her friend got it straight away, but suggested that noone mention it. I tried to mitigate my claim, by observing that I had seen him most recently in `The Adventures Of Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert'. It didn't matter much.
A chunky fellow, who turned out to be from Swansea and do t'ai chi, also joined us. He gave Beardy a massage and, before the party boarded a couple of taxis to the Quartermasters (or something), he had been trying to impress on Liv the benefits of t'ai chi. I had just interrupted him to praise his shoulders and take her side too, when they got up to leave.
Inside the pub, there were some yobbish elements, but the part I like to recall is that another fine face had appeared behind the bar. She was blonde, I suppose, and gave me the same kind of enigmatic smiles that I had been given by Dimpleface. She flashes past the camera in one of my movies.
Mousy eventually put in an appearance behind the bar, in a skirt. She looked my way once, and I spotted her outside at one stage, but that was it.
I came home, was ill, and then was ill some more. And I'm still not right. But what's right? And why did I get smiles from two interesting women, and lots of looks from plenty of others? I'd love to know. Or would that spoil it? Anyway, thanks for reading.
00004776 | 2006-05-31T16:43:42Z | -no-label- | -mt4-
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peonies
000035ea.jpg | 2006-06-03T10:06:28Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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daisies in the sun (front garden)
000035eb.jpg | 2006-06-03T10:09:16Z | photography | -mt1-
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wistaria
000035e0.jpg | 2006-06-07T11:18:38Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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daisies, trellis, wistaria et cetera
000035e1.jpg | 2006-06-07T11:20:00Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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lamppost, one-way sign and trees on lower green
000035f0.jpg | 2006-06-08T13:08:10Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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roses on the front wall
000035e3.jpg | 2006-06-15T09:56:24Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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blossom on the front wall
000035e4.jpg | 2006-06-15T09:57:22Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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fly feeding in a flower
000035e5.ogg | 2006-06-15T10:02:56Z | -no-label- | -mt2-
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fly feeding in a flower
000035e6.jpg | 2006-06-15T10:04:10Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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shop closed sign on newbridge street
000035e8.jpg | 2006-06-15T13:03:10Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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pink flowers on a bush in the churchyard
000035e9.jpg | 2006-06-15T13:52:38Z | -no-label- | -mt1-
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