Sunday, August 24, 2008

Too cool for school

Phoebe is clearly taking after her Uncle in the coolness stakes.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Global warming

As some of our more well read readers (do we have any? - ed) may know some fringe scientists are suggesting that we are in for a period of climate change (the theory is apparently called global warming) and this summer would appear to give some credence to their crazy theories with almost constant rain, or so it seems, through this "summer".

This has been a bit of a challenge for our sports correspondent as so far our subject has only managed 14 balls (sic) of cricket this season (as compared to 14 games last season). He is getting rather irked twiddling his thumbs with nothing to write about particularly as it looked like, at the beginning of the season, our subject might finally snaffle his 100th victim behind the stumps for his firm.

Today should have been the great annual match against Bill Owen's XI but, would you believe it, the weather has ruined it once again. Will he ever get a match in?

Saturday, August 16, 2008

More car trouble

The good news is he has at least managed to get his car to a garage (thanks to a chum from work (a chum who looks suspicously like Danny de Vito))...the bad news is that the part is currently on back-order and is not expected this side of Christmas.

Fingers crossed that the duck-tape engineering does not hold that long and pretty please let it break at some particularly inoportune and amusing moment.

More birthdays

Evie's turn to be a year older this time and to mark the occasion the sister arranged a BBQ (brave considering the summer we are having) attended by the usual suspects and their brats (shurely charming kids? - ed).

With the car knackered (passim) he rented a car for the weekend and whilst nothing corners like a rental nothing fails to accelerate as well as a really cheap rental and so actually getting there was a bit of a challenge but by setting off a day early he just made it there in time (although still earlier than Vanessa and Guy who's tardiness is almost as legendary as GG (NAG)'s).

Astonishingly the rain held off although the wind did manage to find a way to blow the BBQ smoke all over everyone and for a moment the kids were lost in the smog (much like the athletes in the Olympics).

As the day wore down our subject fell asleep on the sofa with Phoebe and Guy and Vanessa's dog which, considering his hatred for all things canine, was quite the sight.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

Car trouble

His jalopy has died, according to the lovely man from the AA the gear linkage has fallen apart.
One would have thought that was terminal or at least very serious but thanks to the wonders of duck tape and cable ties the said lovely man from the AA was able to fix it and send him on his way. Astonishing.

Birthday bash

With the cake (passim) devoured attention turned to his actual birthday and the celebrations planned for that day.

With thanks to Christine a splendid supper was arranged at The Salt Yard in the smoke and a very eclectic group gathered (Chris and Christine, the mother, the sister, the brother in law, Gay George (Not Actually Gay), Helen (Mrs GG (NAG), Crofty and Alison.

With Christine choosing the sherry and GG (NAG) the wine a splendid amount of alcohol was put away leading to the telling of some real horror stories and some astonishing revelations.

Special mention must be made for Alison's gift which certainly qualifies as remarkable.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

The terror of increasing years...and decreasing faculties

He has made it very clear in the past to the mother than in the event of the first sign of senility, or a damp cushion, she can expect a one way ticket to Beachy Head but as we all know time is the fire in which all our souls are consumed and he too ages.

It is, of course, his birthday on 5 August making him a Leo

Grrrr

Having enjoyed himself immensely at Thea's birthday party, on the day after all the family descended on the mother's house for sunday lunch and, to mark his birthday, enjoy a cake.

A couple of weeks ago Gay George (Not Actually Gay) had observed to him that a mutual friend of theirs who is 5 years older than GG (NAG) was, "ancient, he's like nearly 40" which was a particularly charming comment bearing in mind GG (NAG) is 5 years younger than our subject but clearly GG (NAG) has started something rolling and as this picture of the cake demonstrates even his own mother thinks he is nearly 40.



That said we rather think it demonstrates that the mother can no longer tell the difference between a 6 and a 9 and that one way ticket may be coming quicker than expected.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

The joys of a Mankini

A stag do to report gentle reader although those of a nervous disposition need not turn away too soon on this occasion.

This time it was for Ben (some bloke he works with) who has already had his "real" stag do in Vegas but was set up for a "work" stag do.

In many ways prudence was the watchword of the stag. The evening started off in Totos, passim ad nauseam, where, conveniently, their employers had laid on some free drinks to make the first friday of the month.

Having laid down a free base level of beer they had to move on and, time being short, persuaded Ben to save some by swimming across the Floating Harbour rather than walk round it. None of our correspondents has ever heard of anyone being stupid enough to go for a swim in the fetid, and stagnant, waters of the Floating Harbout but Ben was duly persuaded to dive on in there. We say persuaded but being honest the glowering menace of Dropper (not a sentence we ever expected to write) really militated against a consensual approach.

Having recovered his cloths and dried off somewhat they ended up in a restaurant for some grub and to save clothes poor Ben was "persuaded" again to don a Mankini and strut his stuff.



To save time, and to save them being thrown out, he simply pulled his jeans back over himself and the mankini...a decision he was to regret later.

The meal over they ended up queuing outside a bar to get in when our subject, genius that he is, decided to help Ben out of his mankini and to save time to tear it off him. Picking him up by the front and back and simply letting gravity (and his testicles) rip through them was perhaps a cruel option and the squealing (vaguely reminiscent of a piglet being castrated) will haunt your correspondent for years to come. We understand the damage is not permenant.

Like buses...

Having spent the weekend with his family having not seen them for months he has obviously got the taste for it and repeated the dose this last weekend although this time for Thea's 6th birthday.

Her birthday this year was a "Build-a-Bear" party at the Bear Factory and as one would expect our subject demonstrated his usual maturity by insisting on building a bear himself (at little Evie's expense).

His full uncley duties were however called upon keeping Phoebe entertained

but as to be expected by the end of the party no-one was talking to him save, astonishingly, Evie

Angels instead?

We have literally been inundated at Bogun Towers with enquiries about his family who have in recent weeks disappeared from these pages but fear not gentle readers they are still alive he has just been neglecting his filial duties. With some gentle pressure he has cracked and headed down for a weekend.

A weekend in the garden soaking up the rays and playing with the kids ensued and despite previous evidence to the contrary it would appear that the girls are perhaps not as fundamentally evil as we had first thought but might even have angelic tendancies as these remarkable photos appear to demonstrate:-



Friday, August 01, 2008

Letters to the editor

Not strictly letters to this editor but a rather amusing pair of letters nonetheless to the editor of the Western Mail:-

SIR –

I am a Welshman and proud of it and I sing the National Anthem with the best of them, but because I don’t speak the language, I feel no less a sense of national pride because of it.

Sadly, over the past few weeks, there have been a series of vitriolic letters in these columns ostensibly about tourist provision but clearly anti- English in terms of linguistics and people.

I’m sorry, but I feel ashamed of fellow Welshmen who feel that they must lambast the English devil for the troubles of the Welsh language, troubles which they exacerbate through their own intolerance.

My experience is that these so-called incomers (be they English or eastern European) who have “taken over” the tourism industry in the views of your correspondents, are sincere people who are here because they love Wales, its people and its environment.
The language is not forgotten. In several towns in my own mid-Powys where English prevails, tourists are regularly treated to choirs singing in Welsh and some visitors even seek out Welsh-language church services.

Take this much farther and I cannot see great waves of visitors flocking here just to hear but not understand the language of heaven.

Your correspondents want the National Eisteddfod put on the general visitor itinerary. I went there for the first time last year and did not feel welcome. I asked directions in English and was ignored, leaving me feeling lost – I know the effect it would have had on me had I been an English visitor encouraged to go there by tourist publicity.

Welshmen should unite under a multi-hued banner called “Welshness” and not try to exclude men like myself, the Welsh who express themselves through English. If the language were offered to me with a smile and not a threat (“you will not get a job if you don’t speak Welsh”) then there would be no need for those xenophobes who write with such a scowl in their pen.

ALAN DAVIES
Tremont Road, Llandrindod

SIR –

I totally sympathise with Alan Davies and his letter (July 12) complaining that the Welsh people do not show deference to their monoglot visitors from across the border.

I have had similar experiences when visiting countries in Europe.

I have entered shops in France where everyone was speaking English until I and my wife appeared, at which point all the people started to speak French.

The Germans are even worse, openly speaking their language in front of easily-influenced children who do not know better.

My wife and I have now decided only to speak our mother tongue in the privacy of our own house with the doors locked and the curtains drawn. We have also instructed our neighbours not to speak Welsh to our cat.

D MORRIS
Tresaith, Ceredigion