Posts Tagged ‘Life’


Plenty of this...

What a difference 4 months makes…

Since starting this ‘ere blog,I have have often found myself indulging myself in two activities regarding it-

1.Laughing at my own jokes

2.Looking back at early posts and seeing what’s changed.

Well….quite a lot has changed.

Try this from Born Crappy-

***”From the moment I was born,when the doctor slapped my mother,I was up shit creek.

I had nothing going for me from day one.

Let me explain.

First,my name…Emyr Wyn Lewis,which is a Welsh name…I’m Welsh by the way.

Yeah,I know,I can’t pronounce it either,not even Welsh people can.This is one of the reasons that I’m still single…I die of embarrassment when I have to tell anyone my name,especially women.

And let’s face it,girls,would you rather go out with an Emyr or a James?

Next,my height.

I don’t have one.

I fall into that category known as “short of arse”.This means that most women won’t even look at me unless they’re hobbits.

Onto my looks.Well,women who are usually overweight and haven’t seen any action for a decade always say I’m “lovely” and “sweet” and “handsome”.I’m never told these things by a woman who’s still got her own teeth.

That’s because such females aren’t even looking at me.

Think a bargain basement Daniel O’Donnell…..mixed with a bit of Jimmy Hill.

With a sprinkling of Mr Blobby.

So that’s what I’m working with,and yet I still get people telling me I’m, fantastic and great and a good catch and all that shit…can’t they just be honest?

I learnt a long time ago that you can’t polish a turd.”***

That was back in July….what a moaning old bastard I was then.

I’m quite embarrassed by it,actually.

I’ve changed,honestly… 😉

From Love & Marriage…?-

**Anyway,as many people will tell you,there is apparently “someone for everyone.” I have had the chance to get married several times,but to be honest the thought of spending my entire life with the same person fills me with dread.***

Well as I’m sure many people are sick of hearing by now,I have found someone I would happily spend the rest of my life with…and that DOES NOT fill me with dread.

From All About Me-

BE6E7552-0DAA-3F6F-238F300A0B6D1615**I GO THROUGH 3 PACKETS OF CUSTARD CREAMS A WEEK-only because I am trying to cut down….my favourite brand is Tesco’s own in the yellow wrapper….the best custard cream you can buy..I should know I’ve tried them all,I’m a biscuit expert…***

Believe it or not,I’m truly trying to cut down on my CC intake….I’m moving on to Chocolate hobnobs,much healthier 😉

FromNot Going Out…Party Fears Two

***I prefer the rain.It covers everything.

It means I can wear a raincoat with the hood pulled right over my head…that way no-one will see me and recognise me.

I hardly ever go out unless I really need to,other than for work purposes.I work early in the morning and so have the afternoons off,but once I’m back in the house I stay there.

I fear I may be becoming anti-social….

…but I truly HATE the outside world.***

OMG…Now I can’t wait to get out into the world….I just wish I could go everywhere at once,holding hands with my beautiful little girlfriend.

I want to go out into the world and shout out to everyone who will listen…look at my gorgeous girl,she’s the mutt’s nuts and I’m SO proud of her.

Then I’ll probably be arrested…but at least I’ll be happy 🙂

From What’s In A Name?

***I think until I can decide on a new name,or the whole world turns Welsh,whichever comes soonest,I shall be known as Wyn to all those non-Taffies out there….well,the ones who actually want to know what my name is…***

Well,The GF is a non-Taffy,and she has no problem pronouncing my name….go figure.

She can pronounce my name,is small,cute,brainy,pretty and cuddly…could she BE any more perfect….? 😉

Talk about a bolt from the blue….perhaps the universe had had enough of my moaning and arranged for Cupid to do a bit of overtime.

Whatever….I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it….I want to shout it from the rooftops,and,judging by my early blogs,I wouldn’t normally do this kind of thing.

But now I do do this kind of thing….I’m actually confident for the first time in my life….I no longer want to hide my head when I’m outside….

I’ve got a bit of a swagger in my step. 🙂

But some things have not changed-

1.Still hate Tesco

2.Still can’t drive,but am working on it

3.Still like Cup-A-Soups,but not as much as I used to…

4.Still live next door to an alcoholic granny

Thank you to all my readers for your continued visits to my blog…I know I’ve been slacking of late (well,I’ve had my mind on someone 😉 but I’ll try and make up for that from now on.

Until next time—-goodbyeeee!!!

...not so much of this.

...not so much of this.


blogger_london_undergroundAt the weekend,I had the opportunity to revisit one of my favourite places on Earth…

The London Underground.

I was first exposed to its labyrinthine loveliness at a very young age,on a family trip to London…(a caravan was involved,but that’s another story)…and I have been hooked ever since.

And now,I have the chance to really gorge on its tunnel-based temptations thanks to my London Lovely,my gorgeous girlfriend. 🙂 (Although I would like to point out that being able to travel by Tube isn’t the main reason I visit her,honestly.)

I love it….I have no solid idea why.

Maybe it’s the way that it represents the veins and arteries of the great city of London…a city within a city,if you like.

Maybe it’s the mystery of the disused stations and tunnels….the rumours of a race of cannibals living in the darkest,forgotten corners,preying on the unsuspecting commuters who missed the last train to Cockfosters.

Cockfosters….never fails to get a laugh that one,so I’ll be repeating it at various intervals throughout this blog when I run out of jokes….which brings me on to another wonderful thing that makes the London Underground special….the station names.

Even though there has been much modernisation of the entire tube system in the last decade,the station names evoke a much older world….Mornington Crescent….Elephant & Castle….Blackfriars….Gallions Reach….Holborn.

Old London town…

underground_mapThankfully,the powers to be have resisted the temptation to update the names…taking the Bakerloo line to Katie Price Park via Posh & Becks doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

It’s always fun to people-watch on the Tube,if you’re discreet about it.Passengers go into a kind of trance state where they’re not looking at anyone or anything in particular…you don’t want to be caught eyeing anyone up.I like to imagine what they’re thinking about,what kind of life they lead…whether they’re happy or not.london_underground_logo

One of my ambitions is to walk down the tunnels,when the trains have stopped running for the day obviously,to look for abandoned stations,said to be still manned by corpse-like conductors and translucent ticket collectors.Because I’m funny like that,I like to imagine that disused stations lead to hidden,underground (well,obviously they’re underground,but a bit more underground) nerve-centres where the government conduct secret and unholy experiments into time-travel and all that,and strange societies meet to discuss their dastardly plans for mankind.

But it’s not just me…

In the Doctor Who story,The Web Of Fear,featuring the Second Doctor played by Patrick Troughton,the Great Intelligence uses robot Yeti to try and take over the world,starting with London–one Tube station at a time.Doctor Who monsters thought small in the 60s.

The (rather excellent and highly recommended) novels of Robert Rankin feature the shadowy Ministry Of Serendipity,the entrance to which is concealed within Mornington Crescent station…and let’s face it,when was the last time anyone got off at Mornington Crescent?

There could be anything down them tunnels….anything.

You may get eaten,but it’s cheaper than a taxi.

The Tube is a great setting for horror films,too…it’s underground,claustrophobic,dark and a bit smelly….like my sock drawer.

I’m sure you’ve all seen the film “Creep”…not the best advert for Transport For London,that,but a great film….if you’re reading this on the Piccadilly Line,someone like that could be watching you right now….hunting for fresh meat to feed his family of savage,feral cannibals.An earlier film called “Deathline”,made in the 70s,actually features such a race-they live in the tunnels in complete darkness and filth,preying on commuters,unable to talk except for one chilling sentence,which echoes through the pitch-black tunnels…

“Mind the doors.”

Have a safe journey home!! 😉


Aww...don't they look happy?

Aww...don't they look happy?

When my son comes to stay over the weekend,my mother makes Sunday lunch for all of us and my uncle who comes to dinner as well.

There are certain rules concerning this that are inviolate-

  1. You WILL be at the table by the serving-up time,which is always (and forever will be) 1.00pm.
  2. The dinner MUST be eaten at the table,not on your lap in the front room.
  3. The food on offer will ALWAYS be a proper Sunday dinner,with meat and 2 veg,and it will NOT be pizza,pasta or fish&chips,”just for a change.”
  4. There is NO Rule 4
  5. See Rules 1-5

The Mother Unit takes Sunday dinner very seriously.

My son and I have tried to introduce some “flexibility” into the proceedings,to no avail.

Who says you can’t have pizza for Sunday lunch?

Or pasta?

The option is open for me to go to the dreaded Sunday lunch every week before the even more dreaded Tesco trip….but how much horror can a chap take in one day? So I only go when the sprog is staying with me….one time we took it upon ourselves to,shall we say,”opt out” of the banquet….my mother decided to let this one go…her exact words to us being-“Well bloody starve then.” (OK she didn’t entirely say that,but something very close.)

But when we had the audacity to actually turn up late,when we had said we were definitely coming,and THEN insist on eating in the front room….on our laps!!!…..well,the fallout wasn’t pretty.

Suffice it to say,we didn’t do it again.

Don’t get me wrong,though,the Mother Unit is a very good cook and her Sunday lunches are very nice…

I’ve never been a fan of routine…I like to do different things.

It’s about time my mother and uncle embraced change and varied the menu…after all they’ve gone all digital with brand new tellies and everything,so how about a nice curry for Sunday lunch?


happy_faceI speak to you today,Constant Reader,as an official Happy Person.

😀 I’m that happy.

But it hasn’t always been so.

There was a time,only a few months back,even,when you could say I had given up caring about anything.I certainly never dreamed that I would find someone so beautiful and special to share my life with…that was the last thing on my mind.

I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to feel anything for someone else.

But now I have someone.

Now…I’m actually looking forward to the future,all the things we will be able to do together (stop sniggering at the back,there)….I mean going places and doing stuff…even normal,everyday stuff like shopping for teabags…which of course is a vitally important aspect of life,but you know what I mean.

I’m sure my son will now stop nagging me about getting a girlfriend…as he used to say when he was little-“Daddy,I’ve got two Daddies,but why have I only got one Mummy?” (He lives with his mother and stepfather.)

I couldn’t answer.

But now I can…although it may alarm my girlfriend (ooh…”my girlfriend”…that sounds good) to know that the last time I was in a proper relationship,about 6 years ago,my son asked her when we were getting married.

Fast working little matchmaker,my boy.

He demands results.

Anyway,I don’t want to spoil anybody’s dinner by banging on about my wonderful love-life….but it is my blog after all,and it should be about things that happen in my life,and not comedy pug dogs….(even though those blogs are incredibly funny and well worth a read if you have not already done so)…what I’m trying to say is,if I can find someone to put up with my strange ways,then anybody can.

By way of explanation,I used to look like this in school-

Hello ladies...

Hello ladies...

NHS glasses….yeah,should most definitely have gone to Specsavers…but Specsavers hadn’t been invented yet,so I was stuck with these easily breakable free plastic specs.

I went through quite a few pairs over the years.

Looking through the boxes of old photos at the Mother Unit’s house,I came across some real horrors from my younger years….and this one isn’t even the worst of them.

I mean,just look….not what you’d call “girl-bait” exactly….I like to think I’ve improved with age…I couldn’t exactly get any bloody worse,to be honest…

Bargain-basement Ronnie Corbett…that was the look I “rocked” during my school-life.

Which look am I rocking now,I hear you ask?

Poor man’s George Clooney….got the grey hair and everything…and we have the same birthday…6th May…what more do you need?

Anyway…that’s it….I need a brew and a biccie,in that order….so expect me to be in a perpetual good mood from now on,you will probably hate me and long for the days of murderous vegetables and cup-a-soups.

Be good,grown-ups !!! 🙂



Today,I received through my letter-hole a leaflet from my friendly neighbourhood council,informing me of a special day where you can get rid of any unwanted rubbish you’ve got lying about the place.Maybe the baffling new rules about waste disposal have confused you and you haven’t been able to put out all your rubbish.

And what have they called this wonderful,fun day?



Just like the chance to hand in all your guns & knives is an amnesty,where you won’t get prosecuted for giving up your AK-47….but this is for rubbish.This isn’t going to be like taking stuff to the local dump…there’ll probably be coppers watching and taking notes on those people who haven’t separated their cardboard and paper.

George Orwell was right.


We’ve all seen them…that strange breed of gentleman who insists on wearing summer clothes even when it’s a “traditional” British summer….namely,chucking it down.I may have missed an episode,but I don’t think there’s anything cool about arriving somewhere looking like you swam there.Yesterday was a lovely Welsh summer’s day,it rained all day…that didn’t stop one chap from venturing forth in his t-shirt and shorts.

Did I miss something….are umbrellas banned?


All I want for Christmas is an everlasting ink river,so I can charge people £30 a pop to come and fill their empty cartridges up……money for nothing.

Come to think of it,anything you have to buy for an office is more expensive than sense.There are office chairs in the Staples catalogue for £200+…it’s only a bloody chair.


There is a growing trend in banks these days to install machines that allow you to deposit money and pay bills etc so you don’t have to queue up at the counter.This is not to reduce the workload of the staff….because a) This is what they’re paid to do so they should bloody well do it and b) In my local bank having the machine appears to give the staff the opportunity to chat.

If they want us to use the machine then why have staff at all? Luckily,as I’m with the Alliance & Leicester,I can pay in money at the Post Office….a longer wait but at least you see a human being eventually….just don’t go in on pension or giro day.


I could write an entire blog about the things I hate about football…I like it,but there are a few aspects of it that I can’t stand-

  1. “That’s a big ask”…….WTF?
  2. Footballers,people in the crowd,absolutely every-bloody-body putting their hands to their heads when a a goal is missed…fair enough when it’s close but when Rooney has kicked it 20 miles wide of the goal and still clutches his head as if to say “Oh that was so close,but it’s OK I’m still brilliant even though I look like the missing link” it’s pushing it a bit.
  3. Shakespeare in the penalty box-
Eduardo from Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends

Eduardo from Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends

Eduardo from Arsene's Home For Imaginary Injuries

Eduardo from Arsene's Home For Imaginary Injuries


My hatred of Tesco is well known,but on the last trip I encountered a woman who had stopped to talk to someone while completely jamming up the entrance to the aisle with her wine-filled trolley.I loudly proclaimed,”I hate it when people stand around and talk.”

And her reaction?

Sod all…she didn’t even hear me…just carried on talking.She’s probably still there.Eventually I just forced past her with my trolley…she didn’t notice that either.




For some unaccountable reason this really drives me insane…it would be OK if it was just the Yanks doing it,but it is slowly but surely creeping into British use as well.

Which leads me nicely into-



This is Britain…we are ne pas wanting your Frenchy metres and kilometres.

But this hasn’t stopped the widespread adoption of this completely imaginary and unnatural system of measurement.If you watch Mythbusters,the English narrator constantly translates every distance given in miles into kilometres as if “mile” is a foreign word.

I have no idea what a kilometre is.Admittedly in school I always referred to my ruler as a 20cm one,but only because saying “i’ve got a 12 inch one” was likely to be taken the wrong way and leave you open to ridicule…especially if you couldn’t actually back it up.

Just think of all the innocent market traders who have been arrested for selling their fruit & veg in pounds and ounces…obviously this is a more serious crime than murder.


Just no need for them….AT ALL.




That’s what our government would have us believe…be it terrorists,killer diseases or Daleks….our days are numbered.The latest thing,of course,is “swine flu”….apparently there is a “pandemic” on it’s way,and the only way mankind can survive is by having a swine flu jab.

Trouble is,they’ve been going on about the “pandemic” for months…and it still hasn’t happened.

That’s because it never is going to happen….so there have been some deaths from swine flu….you’re more likely to die slipping in the shower or falling downstairs.You never hear of people who’ve had swine flu and recovered….that wouldn’t “fit in” with the government’s doom-mongering.I may have even had it myself…it was a very mild case of flu that was gone in a few days…it just came out of the blue in the middle of summer.

On a related note,scientists who’s views on global warming don’t “chime” with the government’s views on it are not being allowed to put their point across at climate change summits…..but DO NOT get me started on this subject.

That’s for another day.


Perfect Day

Posted: August 31, 2009 in Life, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Perfect Day…what comes into your mind when you hear those words? Lou Reed,probably…hopefully,because it is a classic song.

“Oh it’s such a perfect day…..I’m glad I spent it with you.”

It may just be me,but that song has always depressed me….today may have been a “perfect day”…but what about the future?

Today may have been perfect…but tomorrow won’t be…we’re just putting a brave face on things.

Hmmm….always looking to the future,me….I can never just “live in the moment.”

I can’t “let myself go” as the old dears at the granny party tried to make me do.

Is it even possible to just enjoy “the moment?” To have fun for fun’s sake? I suppose you can if you’re not a miserable old bugger like me…but I live in hope of experiencing a Perfect Day,perhaps even with someone else.

I can think of someone I would like to have a Perfect Day with…more of that later. 😉

But first,with a little help from my friends,a recreation of the BBC’s (admittedly schmaltzy) multi-celeb version of Perfect Day in blog form.—–By Wyn

So…a blog with the theme of “perfect day”. I thought about this for a while and after an initial blast of Lou Reeds song;

Oh it’s such a perfect day, I’m glad I spent it with you.”

in this instance a perfect day being one spent with someone who means a lot to him (I’m ignoring the ideas it’s about his drug use). I started to move onto other thoughts about what a perfect day means to me.

I don’t happen to have a special someone in my life at the moment but don’t feel that this stops me from being able to enjoy a “perfect day”.

So I thought some more….

Now, hoping I don’t sound too clichéd, actually I feel that every day in life (even the really sh***y ones) have some aspects of perfection about them. Now before you think “yeah, yeah she’s obviously had an easy time of life” I haven’t. Life has dealt me quite a lot of “challenging times” but every day has taught me something (when I’ve gotten over the hysteria or intense weeping!). There is something beautiful and perfect in everyday and embracing that helps me realise EVERY day is perfect.——By Emma

Perfect day(for Emyr’s 50TH! oldie :P):
What exactly is a perfect day?Is it when its sunny and cool, or is it when rain is hammering down and you get to spend quality time with your family because your to scared to go outdoors? Is a perfect day like that song by all the singers suggest.Is it like the video to that song?Is it none of these things?something completely different maybe?
Want to know what I think? Course you don’t. But I’m going to tell you anyway.

A perfect day is a mix of all the things I previously said.A perfect day is where there is a drizzle of rain in the morning before you go out to see your mates and when you do go out the sun shines but the early morning drizzle helps keep the air cool and fresh. A perfect day is spending time with the people you love and care about,Just talking,Like most of us have forgotten to do.And a perfect day is going out and enjoying life whilst you can. Live for today work for tomorrow 😀    By Shanna

I think I have probably had perfect days which may have seemed pretty ordinary at the time and were certainly not pre-planned to be anything particularly special and I think this is probably the key to their specialness – the lack of planning and expectation and the sense of simply going with the flow of life. For example one of the nicest days I can remember was spent on Dartmoor walking with my other half. We got up in the morning, decided it was a good day for a hike, packed a very simple picnic and off we went. The day was spent admiring the natural beauty on our doorstep and spending real quality time with each other and talking to each other about real stuff, not whether we needed milk or if the bins had been put out but real conversation that everyday life quite often precludes. But on the other hand, days that you might expect to be perfect, like your wedding day for example are often so well planned or so anticipated that the real beauty of life and the joy of spontaneity and the unknown are lost. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my wedding day and it is one of the most memorable in my life but it was also a bit stressful (being centre of attention is not my thing!) and as we had been thinking about, planning and living it for months in advance in the end it could never have been everything we expected or envisaged.
So, what am I trying to say here? I don’t know, I probably shouldn’t be allowed to witter on longer than 140 characters but I guess the gist of my message is that we shouldn’t plan our lives too much, shouldn’t worry too much about the future and make sure we spend quality time with the ones we care about. If we do this we might all just have perfect days more often.—– By Lisa

It’s been a long, hard night’s work. You’ve been at it since sunset, and now the sun is rising again. 12 hours is a long time without a break. As the sky greys, you’re impossibly tired and wondering how this next day is going to pan out, whether you’re going to make it through. But then, in a heartbeat, everything changes. In one breath the day becomes absurdly magical. It only takes one tell-tale sound for you to know you you’ve made it. One cry. And at the end of that cry you’re looking at a brand new person. And that tiny brand new person is looking right back at you. This is their first day, and you know you’re going to do your damnedest to make it perfect.—– By Beccy

My perfect day is simple… Me and my best friend. We do not get to meet as much sadly because of how life gets busy, but every time we meet and make a day out of it you have no idea where we shall end up and how much fun we shall have! From going to Stonehenge, Balloon Festival, Banksy, to just random strolls around London, taking pictures, yapping away, or just discussing life and its philosophies over a cuppa! This is my idea of a perfect day… a perfect day with my best friend :)—– By Sami
I think it’s psychologically impossible to have a perfect day on a Monday.
The invisible Monday monkeys see to that, that’s why were all grumpy on a Monday, little did you know that the Monday monkeys are constantly annoying us.

Having a perfect day on a Tuesday is possible but uncool, bit like marrying someone called Eric Winterbottom.

Wednesday is the piggy, I’d be much happier having a good day on Wednesday simply because the perfect day would probably be winning the lottery, and thus mid-week would be a perfect time to tell people that “I’m never coming back to work”, “stick it up your trumpet”, and “sorry I actually think you look like a fool!”

I’ll have two days then to get ready for the weekend. Perfect!

Oh Friday and Saturday too late! Sunday sleeping!—–By Dean

The day would start early, with me waking from a dream where I had been flying and swooping over beaches and mountains. I’d be in a great mood, not tired and not hungry, so I wouldn’t have to waste time with breakfast. I wouldn’t have to mess around having a shower, as I’d already be fragrant and clean, with perfect make up and I’d have long hair, tied in a pony tail.
My Mum would turn up to feed the animals and stay with them and, once I’d kissed her on the cheek, I’d teleport out of there. There would be portals in all my close Twitter friends’ houses and I’d go round to each of them and gather them up with me for a picnic. They would all be ready, so I wouldn’t have to wait.
We’d arrive under a willow tree, by a stream with a bridge over it and there would be hampers of food. I wouldn’t have to eat a sandwich first before my ice cream…as I’m now grown up and can do what I want. There would be junk food for everyone but no alcohol…we’d just be on a natural high.
Then, across the bridge would come loads of different animals of all species..wild ones, domesticated ones etc. They would all be tame, and I’d cuddle them and hold them, and look into their eyes to see what I could learn.
It would now be afternoon and everyone would teleport back to their homes. When I got to my house my animals would come to greet me and there would also be Basil, my guinea pig who died a few weeks ago. I’d pick him up and kiss his little face and smell his belly and tell him how much I’ve missed him. I’d feed him his favourite veggies and never let him go.
All afternoon I would be sitting on the floor with my pets and watching musicals that I’d sing along to…especially ones with cockney songs in. I’d then watch a few episodes of Worzel Gummidge.
Towards early evening, my clothes would change into something sexy but classy, just before my favourite man from Twitter teleported in. We would have a candlelit dinner at the table, but it would be a take away and there’d be plenty of tea and lemonade. We’d then go through to the living room and relax on the sofa to watch classic episodes of Doctor Who, and maybe also a really good sci-fi film.
Just before midnight we would go outside and lie on the trampoline watching the stars and talking about the Universe…there would be loads of shooting stars and it would be magical. He’d kiss me very gently and romantic music would suddenly appear in the background, like it does in the films …but then he’d have to go home.
Still smiling I would come in, go to bed and snuggle with all my animals (especially Basil) and fall asleep to dream about my Twitter crush and how happy I am.—–By Josi
It’s me again.
I’ve finally thought about my idea of a “perfect day”…it would be to make someone else have a Perfect Day.To make someone else happy.I’m far too old and miserable to enjoy myself….if I can bring joy into someone’s life,my son for example,then everyday will be perfect.
I would like to thank everyone who contributed to this blog.I hope you enjoyed it. :)——By Wyn

…so said Sir Michael Caine at the end of the cinematic masterpiece,The Italian Job.

Last night,I had a great idea….or a least it seemed like a great idea at the time–many people’s famous last words.

Here are the details.

I am about to launch my 50th blog update upon an unsuspecting world,and because,with me,it’s all about the numbers,I thought it would be a great idea (those words again) to celebrate this milestone by getting as many different bloggers/tweeters/aspiring authors to write about 150-200 words on a certain subject which I will compile into one blog—the aforementioned 50th.

But don’t worry…it’s not all about me….even though it should be 😉

It’s my way of having a day off doing something a little different.I think it will be interesting to have several different views on one particular subject….and that subject is…”Perfect Day.”

Whatever that means to you.

If you want to contribute,you can write your piece in the comments box for this post,or you can email it to so I have all the mini-blogs in one place.Keep them to about 200 words,so I can put about 10 of them in without the whole thing turning into War&Peace.To give you an idea,so far this is 200 words.

If I get enough I might do another one….if I don’t get any,I’ll probably cry.

There’s no big rush,but I would like to post the finished blog by about Tuesday.

Make me proud….I look forward to reading your work.

Thank you.

…you would ask for a bigger instrument.”

Or so read a spam email I received over the weekend.

Well…I suppose you would,wouldn’t you…it’s your God-given right to demand a bigger instrument.

Warning…I may get a bit random here.

Anyway….how are you all since I was here last?

Nothing much blogworthy happened at the weekend…my son stayed after his holiday,and we had a fun-filled,cup-

A highly dangerous animal...holding a snake (My son btw)

A highly dangerous animal...holding a snake (My son btw)

a-soup fuelled video-game and Scrabble fest.He brought me a present from Spain…a photo of him holding a whacking great snake.I admire his bravery,because it was one of those things where people sell photos of tourists with various animals…you’re walking along then someone plonks Hissing Sid on your shoulder and asks you for 20 euros.He’s smiling in the photo but I would have crapped myself.

His mother and step-father came to pick him up yesterday.

How can I describe my son’s mother…think of a blonde twiglet in high heels.

She is a little on the “un-fat” side,what my mother would call a “stick-insect.” She is something of a pin-up among my son’s friends.I still fancy her,if I’m honest…but she’s not the easiest person to live with,so I probably won’t be sending her naughty texts anytime soon suggesting a reconciliation.

It’s her 40th birthday next month,and she is arranging a bit of knees-up.It’s also her non-identical twin-sister’s 40th birthday on EXACTLY the same date…how inconsiderate of her.(Ha ha) Anyway,I suggested they have a joint do and invite their parents and I could get my suit out of mothballs and all that.

Trouble is…the sisters aren’t actually speaking,and haven’t been for some considerable time.My son’s mother refers to her sister as “SHE” at all times (putting a lifetime of resentment into the word),and has always felt that she is not as good as her.They’ve never really got on…it’s all rather sad,and not something I want to get involved in,because I don’t know all the details,and it isn’t really affecting my son at all.I hope they will work it out in the end,but if I know my son’s mother at all,it probably won’t.


MadHatterI’m currently reading Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland…call me a miserable old cynic,but it isn’t as good as I’d expected it to be.It’s one of those books that everyone calls a classic but have never actually read,like Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four…now that is a classic that lives up to its hype.(I should know,I’ve read it five times.)

I’m like that with “classic” books…I thought Catcher In The Rye was an atrocious book,but some people,especially the Americans,regard it as some kind of Bible.

The Lord Of The Rings was a reading experience that can only be described as painful…I forced myself to finish The Fellowship of the Ring but chickened out of reading the other two books.

I could name others…Dracula,Dune….when I started reading London Fields by Martin Amis,I lost the will to live…that book is like having a chimpanzee with bowel trouble sitting on your head,continually flicking your ears.

Here,for your delectation,is a list of my Top 10 Books-perfect desert island reading…

  1. Everything by George Orwell (esp. Nineteen Eighty-Four/Down And Out In Paris & London)
  2. Everything by Philip K.Dick (esp. Martian Time-Slip/A Scanner Darkly)
  3. That’s probably more than 10,but never mind…it’s my list…
  4. The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster (nuttier than squirrel doo-doo)
  5. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis (The story of Patrick Bateman..played by Christian Bale in the film-’nuff said)
  6. The Forever War by Joe Haldeman (first line-“Tonight we’re going to show you eight silent ways to kill a man.”)
  7. Childhood’s End by Arthur C.Clarke (sci-fi at its best)
  8. Crash by J.G.Ballard (read all of his books too)
  9. The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien (an Irish comic genius)
  10. Absolutely everything ever written by Robert Rankin…even his shopping lists

That’s it.

If anybody wants to borrow any of these books,let me know. 😉

My Bad-Hair Life

Posted: August 20, 2009 in Life, Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

badHairDayIt’s haircut time again.

Simple enough chore for most people….but most people don’t have my hair.

I have always had crap hair…although you may think that having incredibly strong,thick and fast growing hair is a blessing.

It is not.

bad-hair-day-indeedThis is probably the reason I never had a girlfriend in school….they were too ashamed to be seen with me.

(Well that,and the fact that I was a speccy,spotty,runty little shortarse.)

I was in secondary school for seven years…never had a decent hairdo during any of them.

Grannies (see, they couldn’t get enough of me,even then) would come up to me and compliment me on my “lovely curls.”

I should have shaved the whole bloody lot off at the age of 10.

In the words of the female of the species throughout time-

I can’t do a thing with it.

When it grows,it’s totally unmanageable…I have to wash it everyday just to be able to wrestle it into some semblance of tidiness.

And I think,as I get older,it’s getting worse….it seems like I was only in the barber’s a fortnight ago,and he filled two binbags with my locks then.I used to always have a Grade 1 buzz-cut….I,like,so totally rocked that look for a while.No more bad hair days…no more scrapping with the hairbrush at 8am…and my grey bits showed up more so I looked a bit George Clooney-ish (I have the same birthday with him,fact fans.)

Then I got bored of it.But….it takes longer for the hair to recover from that so I’d look a pillock again for ages as my barnet tried to work out what the hell was going on.I no longer have a discernible “style”….as long as I look vaguely human when I leave the house it’s fine by me.

My son has inherited his mother’s long,straight blonde hair….the jammy bugger….although he hates it,but he doesn’t know how lucky he is.In a few years time he’ll be rocking the floppy-haired,emo-look that is so popular these days and probably be dripping with honeys,while I’ll be looking like Amy Winehouse.

I’ve decided…I’ll just have a normal trim this time,and see what happens…if it’s all over the place after a week,then it’s Phil Mitchell-time again.


A very silly name

Last weekend,I finally broached the subject of my annoying nomenclature with the Mother Unit.

I don’t think it went down too well.

After all,she must have thought it was a very good idea at the time to give me a rubbish name.Every time anyone says my name,but especially when they pronounce it properly (like my mother) ,I feel like I’m 8 years old.Because of my name I have not been taken seriously throughout my entire life.

Welsh people hear my name and immediately think…awww bless.”Emyr” is not a name you give to someone you want or expect to do well in life.

My mother suggested I call myself by my middle name-“Wyn.” That’s not even a proper name…how many “Wyns” do you know?

I have seriously considered changing it officially…but change it to what?

Ed Balls?

Michael Hunt?

Aristotle Bonaventure?

I once had a relationship with a girl from Sunderland,called Lisa…I soon realised that the only chance I had of getting my leg over was to call myself Wyn.When she came to stay,obviously she called me Wyn…which caused my old mum to look at her as if she were mad….but there was no way she would have been able to get her tongue around “Emyr.”

Although I got my tongue around Lisa quite a few times.


I think until I can decide on a new name,or the whole world turns Welsh,whichever comes soonest,I shall be known as Wyn to all those non-Taffies out there….well,the ones who actually want to know what my name is…

I still have a nagging doubt about changing my name,though…it’s that my proper name,crap as it is,is SO ingrained in my psyche,that I will be embarrassed to tell people my name even after it’s changed.

Even if it’s John Smith….or Arthur Windbag-Fitzherbert-Thornycroft.

As you may have gathered,I’m quite messed up about this….I need therapy.

Or perhaps a nice cup of tea.