Confession is good for the soul...

They say confession is good for the soul and well I suppose I should confess.

Last Saturday of the afternoon I was acting as duty manager when I was approached by a group of young stewards. They were becoming bored with the verbal taunts and abuse emanating from a gentleman sat round the fire nearby.

Being abused is not part of any ones job spec so I decided it might be a good thing to be looking into.

On approaching the gentleman in question the first thing that struck me was the impressive pile of empty tins of special brew, a liquid responsible for too much mayhem in society. Secondly I concluded that whilst the lights might be one I was not sure anyone was actually at home.

A bit of a one sided conversation took place which made me actively consider sending for security to persuade the chap to leave the site, this however brought on mental images of burly security guards and children and families alarmed and put off.

So instead of getting mad I got even.

I retained my calm and reason. Spoke politely and did not respond to insults or abuse. I stayed until the point where his girlfriend was totally disgusted with him and walked off.

This was truly a dirty trick.

The poor unfortunate will have fallen asleep some time later and woken feeling perhaps not quite as fresh as a daisy.

With a team of navvies inside his head intent on escape and a digestive tract behaving like an errant chemistry set his ears will have noted a noise. This of course will have been his girlfriend helpfully (so she might think) recounting to him his recent history, misdemeanours real and imaginary will have been recounted in vast and painstaking detail with invitations to reflect on how his behaviour impacted on others.

This debriefing might take several hours and there might be other consequences on the domestic bliss front that might stretch on into a significant future. Just one telling of the tale might not be enough, it might need repeating a few times into the future weeks and months.

Of course, he will not connect any of this to me, which makes the experience the more fulfilling.

As they say:

Don't get mad get even.

R

Variety is the spice of life. Sleep is good also....

It has been a truly non stop couple of weeks.

Following the fire engine debacle it was Xantia bound for Cambridge and Homerton University.

I was expected there by 11 am so leaving here at 5 am seemed wise. This saw me arrive marginally late, courtesy of the vagaries and limits on interchanges on our road system. I was faced with a tough dilemma either the keynote speaker or coffee. Tough call, took seconds.

Coffee wasn't too bad, conference was better. Very interesting, lots of little cliques. Everything hinged on how you introduced yourself in a session. So I started off as a service user, then thought I might be a foster carer, how about child care consultant (that one went down well) finally member of the degree Project management committee.

It became clear that "who" you were really affected how they dealt with you.

That aside, it was the most fantastic time and a real jolly.

Haute cuisine it wasn't but a forray into Cambridge was really something of an eye opener for a humble country bumpkin like me.

I can see how Oxbridge graduates view themselves as a cut above. Bet they don't eat in much though....

Anyway the con went on and I did enjoy myself a lot.

Even the trip back at licence losing speeds was little more than a distraction.

Then a gentle run out to Llandovery and the festival weekend.

It's a pleasure to watch children bloom and big D really did that. Taliesin had his own little work crew, they worked all day and partied all night.

Me I stuck with 18 hour days and that's enough for me.

Due to finish on Friday, an outbreak of pillock tied me up till midnight so I got to the real ale bar distressingly sober and just as it was closing.

Saturday, I had another busy day but the music was excellent unlike previous years I know this...

The day went really well, plenty of volunteer stewards, easy peasy.

I was site manager so I just had to breeze round and listen to the radio for problems.

Then came 6 pm and I was sector manager for the gate, that is: I had to be there and, all the promised stewards evaporated.

I don't know why they call me the manager. One man band more like.

This was serious everyone coming in over the fence territory but we rise to this kind of thing and eventually all was calm and sorted.

I even got to the bar by 11 pm so at least I had a pint of proper beer before bed.

Still the camping was fine, we really got our tent sorted and we spent the nights asleep and in comfort.

Monday came and we came home.

The van was quickly unloaded and dropped at the garage, oh yes did I mention next week and off to France and an MOT due..

Tuesday was a day of catch up admin. Well actually no, we should have been over in Melton Mowbray picking up the Transit minibus I had bid on in a tender sale that has so far not figured on here at all...

So yesterday bright and early and with child care sorted off we both went for a thrash up to Colsterworth.

Naturally it was a non consequence free day (yeah right) and we got home at a comendable 9 pm.

Today she went for a Tesc, armed with plastic I went to sort the finals of a contested MOT.

So anyway, I think a sort of calm has descended.

To regular readers, sorry if this is a bit dis jointed but the joints have been a bit dissed this last week.

R

A blur of time....

These last days have been a blur.

Rebuilding a fire engine which dutifully broke down and fired oil everywhere.

Then getting a message that the festival which I had put everything into getting it ready to go to did not want it after all.

Just before I drove 300 miles to the JSWEC conference at Homerton Collage in Cambridge so I could spend a couple of days pretending to be clever.

Then a mad dash back a swiftly pinched night of sleep before a drive out again to Llandeilo and the Small Nations Festival where I could spend 3 days working 18 hours a day not getting paid and the festival might not quite have gone bust.

In reality I have had quite a nice time doing things that were very different to each other.

Tomorrow, for relaxation, I am off to Melton Mowbray to pick up a minibus with a bust exhaust.

I must come back to all this and fill in some detail.

The happy carefree life I lead aye.....

R

this week

The silence should tell all.

This has been another interesting few days.

I am off to play academics tomorrow - years since I was clever.

Will try and keep you up to speed.

R

what a week......

I shall draw a veil over this week.

Suffice it to say that my mate and I with no considerable help from Taliesin have changed the cylinder head on the fire engine.

This morning will see the test flight and I will be back later in elation or deep gloom.

R

No posible comment....

There has been a certain coolness in domestic relations since I gave a factual description of how her driving could occasionally serve as substitute for the Exlax range of products, how she could mount a straight challenge most evangelists in an ability to get people seeking God.

So in the interests of domestic bliss I will offer no comments, just a simple factual narrative.

Late this afternoon I was amusing myself rebuilding a green goddess engine when my peaceful knuckle skinning round of profanity was disturbed by a screaming engine and a roar of tyre on gravel.

These were the usual alerts that management was arriving home. Unusually though there seemed to be thuds and crunches mixed in with the usual din. Turning I observed that she had decided to branch out from driving down the track, she was driving in the field as well. This, is must be said was doing the fence no good at all 3 posts broken and a few more uprooted.

I am sure this was one her new advanced driving tricks, something so clever I could not possibly understand. Being in the passenger seat could have been the trigger for sudden discovery of religion though....

And I must say that I am deeply grateful to god that I was not....


R

Now look what I have done......

There are times when I have those; what did I go and do that for moments.

Buying a scythe, what a good idea.

Now, she has told me I bought an american profile scythe which is apprantly not as good as an Austrian one.

Apparently I can buy her one of theses here far superior Austrian scythes with a selection of blades, (can you use more that one at a time then??) a snaithe to suit her height (don't ask I don't know what it is either) and a peening anvil (not a clue) for 150 pounds.

Apparently I have decided to get her one for Xmas and armed with that we will be able to mow our own meadow (the dog in the song may or may not be obligatory).

Left to my own devices I should be able to get the job done in 6 days. Why I would want to do that remains shrouded in mystery.

Sometimes it's best not to ask.

Whose daft idea was it to buy a scythe.....

R