Hmmm

Occasionally something makes you wonder what it says about you.

Yesterday I was running through the books in Tesco when I came across a book which was a guide to the rough pubs of the UK. The country had been scoured and all the pubs sifted out to make a top 50.

All fine and dandy, but the pub in which you are most likely to find me holding up the bar is listed at number 2 and gets 4 pages all to itself.

Then I looked some more and realised another pub that I can be seen in occasionally was in there too.

Then I noticed that one of the pubs I used to be seen in before I moved here was in there as well.

So that's 3 of the roughest pubs in Britain have had me as a regular customer at some stage.

But there's more, a lot of that is because you would be drawing up the list today and some of the pubs I knew have been gentrified or even closed.

Drawing a national list, back then you would have had to include at least another three of my regular haunts, except now, you would not. Because if you had walked in there and started taking photos like they did for this book, it's pretty unlikely you would have left with your camera or on your feet or through the door, well unless it was Monday and the glazier had not been round yet....

Included though was one of my old haunts which looked refreshingly un messed about with.

This was the site of the great village folk festival which was a bit limited in scope as the place had just the one pub.

I should point out that this was the early days of folk before the scene was overpopulated by strange hairy people who had superglued their finger into their ear whilst wandering round with a pewter tankard so they could drink dissolved lead.

But anyway, this festival was a friendly mix of bikers, a bunch from the local RAF camp and half a local TA unit each of which had arrived smelling the whif of bar that might be open a good while and a bit of fun to be had.

As part of the festivities it had been decided to revive the game of Bando. Traditionally this had been played on a local beach when the tide was out. That being the length of the game, till high tide.

The villages at either ends were the combatants, no I mean players and the game was basically about getting a ball, though I also heard it might have been a barrel of beer from one end of the beach to the other as many times as possible. The winning village being the one who succeeded in getting the ball to the right end of the beach the most often.

It was a heady mix of rugby, football, hockey (every player carried a suitably sized stick) with some of the less restrained aspects of murder ball.

This was pretty dangerous stuff so they dealt with health and safety considerations by not having any.

We used the pubs rather large garden. A "try" was deemed to have been scored if the ball touched the right end of the field.

For the sake of sanity it had been decided that if the ball went outside the pub boundaries it was out of play and spectators were required to toss the ball back in.

Inside the pub was also declared out of bounds, a matter dealt with by locking the front door.

The teams were "Wales" and "the rest". This produced a roughly equal divide of the 100 or so who decided they wanted to take part.

There was an unfortunate air of sexism, women were not allowed to play, funnily enough most of them showed no regret, saying something about them not being stupid enough to want to.

It was tremendous fun though, in a way that those brought up in a "lawyers are us" culture of blame and litigation might not get.

Just like today there was a solicitor there, but he was offering a service based on writing wills and they were being written on beer mats.

The game got off to an auspicious start, the ball went straight into the gents. In these days urinals were a wall you went against. So when the ball landed inside, a veritable army poured in after it. Meaning the poor chap in there was smashed into the wall and came out with a great wet streak up his front.

This was the time when Americans often touristed, and one was indeed there. Of course he had decided that the concept of the ball in the bog was outstanding so he placed himself in the best place to catch it as it came out.

This was not one of his better decisions as the ball indeed landed where he wanted it.

And 80 or so blokes smashed into the spot, much to the detriment of, well everything really.

His camera kit got reduced to it's basic components and he didn't do too well either.

I think he went off in the first ambulance.

The game was not limited by tides but the need every 10 minutes or so to reopen the bar so the spectators could buy beer.

It seemed a good idea also to get the most seriously injured off the field.

This was what ended the game.

The Police were already there.

The local bobby had been told that all he had to do to end the game was walk on and take the ball.

He was so selfless that he didn't want to keep it to himself
he decided to share it with the riot squad.

He added some concerns about whether they could do this deed as this was not people trying to rip each others heads off but hell bent on having a laugh.

The game finished when the ambulance control said they could not keep up and asked that we either stopped or gave up on 999.

The daft thing was that we were all pretty injured.

OK a lot injured

But it was fun.

Even the ones on stretchers were smiling.

Well except the guy who bubbled and dribbled a lot but he looked happy

R

Timing is all

So yesterday full of comfort management returned and decided that we really needed something exciting to do.

So we went for a tesc.

Right up there as a cultural experience with watching paint dry.

Of course we ae both so much more relaxed now we don't have a house move hanging over us like a sword of damocles.

Then I saw it, front page of the national newspaper of wales, "end of housing recession in sight" it screamed.

Estate agents report 45 percent growth in sales proclaimed the paper.

Yes thats the effect us pulling the house has on the market, everything starts to sell.

R

D motivated

Now today management went off on her sweet own to visit her mum.

Well OK on her own means trailing several children.

Me, well I came over all executive and decisive and went back to bed with the laptop till the battery went flat.

Since then I have achieved precisely one boiling of the kettle for coffee and one making of a bacon sandwich.

Also one feeding of the lions, which does not really count as a horde of unfed cats is one of few things worse that a horde of children.

I am willing myself into getting up and doing things; so far I have been a total failure. But I think the cold might get me somewhere over near the fire with paper and matches in a minute.

Or I might go back to bed.

R

All action auction.....

So yet again the auction came around and management was off on manoeuvres. Well actually I was dragged along as well in a vain hope of keeping things somewhat under control.

Fortunately there was a decided shortage of items for sale and even better there was a real absence of people both ordinary punters and dealers. The place really was empty.


Things should have gone for buttons. It would not be right to say that was true, prices were like house prices, all over the shop. Some things have held up really well and other things notably furniture was being given away. In perhaps the clearest evidence of all of a downturn, some dealers had put stuff into the auction, clearly intent on shifting stock that was just not selling.

Management set her heart on some rather nice dining chairs, in this calm market they would not go for a lot and matching chairs would be great to have in the dining room instead of the current hotch potch. So up they came and the first bid was double what she had intended as her max.

No new chairs any time soon then!!!

She seemed a bit down, she has come to the conclusion she has very expensive tastes, this is very puzzling, I think she must be a slow learner as I had worked that out a long time ago. I didn't actually say that, I am famed for my diplomacy (or was that survival instinct?) and I thought it best to say nothing.

But all in all not a bad day, it's her birthday next week and remembering how much devotion she gave to getting me a Xmas corkscrew I did not hesitate: I got her a Spong meat mincer, a proper metal one not the modern plastic toys and it was a whole pound too.

Her little eyes misted over, she was getting all emotional again. She says she cannot wait to try out the mincer, and she knows exactly what she wants to do.

Something about how she said that made me just a little uncomfortable but I am sure the feeling will pass....


R

STREEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

I don't know how long ago it was but some time ago we decided to move.

So we had a huge sort out of the house - stress.

We got the place ready so that people could come and look at it - with 7 kids? STRESS.

We took to sitting next to the phone waiting for the call that said in a few hours some stranger would come and wander round your house - STRESS.

We took lots of strangers round out house - STRESS.

99% of them were a COMPLETE waste of time - STRESS.

0.5% of them wanted the house but didn't have a pot to peace in - STRESS.

Mind you, there was the one who foolishly opened the cupboard under the stairs into which we had jammed everything and then as a family activity scrummed the door shut.

The explosion was quite amusing - but only in a "sale off" kind of way.

Meanwhiles we went all over the high school catchment area looking at houses - STRESS.

In the midst of all this we balanced bids coming in from people who had some daft idea of how much house prices had fallen whilst trying to bid with people who thought it was still 2007. STRESS ON STRESS ON STRESS.

Now, the mistress of all we owe money on has been getting a bit, well errr how shall I put this? Ohh, I know "STRESSSED".

You have come to know me so you will know I sailed through this all on a cloud of calm.

Well maybe I am not being entirely truthful.

Today reeling from the soulless house viewing yesterday ("if you don't bid my phone number on this you can't have it" - tries not to laugh). We went to another house which might do but, oh dear here we go the price was set in 2007 when the house went on the market and the owner might come down 50 p.....

We were on our way to another viewing when the spluttering 806 clutch cable jammed and we had a zero clutch situation meaning I was doing clutchless gear changes.

Oh yes this really was my idea of fun.

Believe me I sat there in gales of hysterical laughter - well OK maybe I didn't

Only one thing to do.

I picked up the mobile, phoned the inastate agent and pulled the house off the market.

Management was visibly relieved.

We went home and I did what any decent man would:

I went to bed and went to sleep.

God that was good.

She went to a viewing, no not a house but a general auction which is on tomorrow, I think she has a cheque book.

Did I mention stress, oh yes I think I might have.

Rhys

Playing the property market.

Fresh from our weekend we have exploded on to the world renewed refreshed and ready for action.

OK so I lied.

The troubles with the 806 are bizarre, the engine management and the fueling system are in disagreement over the timing of the engine.

Prime candidate has to be the cam belt which might have stretched ever so slightly, just enough to make the engine management think something is wrong.

Having been done some 10K ago this all sounds feasible.

Other than that it will be a fault inside the pump itself, something requiring rather more in the way of open wallet surgery. But the exact nature of the fault will determine whether I bought a cheap car or a very cheap car.

The property game continues, nothing from the inastate agent today but a quick look at the various lists and consider whats out there. Now being the time that a lot of new stuff will come to the market.

Nothing really pushes my buttons just now but, we have a few to look at and a few possibilities to consider.

Thinking outside the box is going on, at the moment there is not a lot of demand for development land and there is a big plot with a fantastic shed just up the road from here. That in turn changes what we need by way of a house.

We are also trying to second guess social services, for a while it has been clear that they want to get all the children back into town so they can tick another box. The trick is to work out whether this will be lots sooner or somewhat later.

No point just asking, you will never be told. Crystal balls must be deployed....

She who does not do waiting is upstairs as I write this scouring the web either that or she is playing solitaire...

The rain is pouring down which never helps. Rain gets you down and destroys motivation to be outside.

Should be doing all sorts and we are sat here instead.

R

Weekends of wildness.

Every so often the management and I get to spend some quality time together. This has got progressively easier as the children get older. Left to their own devices, there is less of a chance the kids will have burnt the house down, though they are approaching an age where parental absences might be marked by wild parties...

Soo Friday we went off on a jolly, now of course I had to increase the level of stress and excitement. Saving a bit of time I shot over to the high school to pick up the oldies. Now, I had noted a day or so previously there was not a lot of derv in the truck but when I got half way there i realised quite how little. So anyway with the truck running on it's reserves of reserve I got to the school.

Naturally I had prepared for the off by putting my jacket in the Xantia. Of course good preparation meant putting the passports in my jacket, and of course the plastic, and of course the cash.

So here I was miles from anywhere about to run out of fuel with no means of paying for more.

Fortunately Taliesin was in funds and able to fund a fiver of diesel till we got home.

With the start less auspicious we went on our merry way.

We are about 250 miles from Plymouth, needed to drop two children off en route and of course Wales were playing France. Kick off was 8 PM

The Xantia is nothing if not a lively little motorway toy, I am not providing evidence but we left the house here at 4.16 and I saw the end of the first half in the bar....

From there of course it was onwards and - errrh onwards.

This was our first run out on the new ferry Armorique.

The rugby was a disaster area.

Wales were so Welsh, started as the favourites and so tossed the game away

This is the new BF top ship and it's lovely. Lots of open areas but no restaurant which is what makes the trip so nice. The cabins are lots bigger and nicer which is why me and her slept on the floor.

Just like we used to do when we only ever slept in recliners.

Big plus though, no disco and no third rate covers band.

The lack of restaurant is a bit of a pain we quite like our sedentary relaxed meals on the ferry with a decent bottle of rouge to wash it down...

But anyway next morning b right and early away we went in brilliant sunshine and temperatures well into the teens to check the house. Just as well. The recent winds had blown an upstairs window open and we were lucky there had not been substantial rain or wind.

On to the favourite restaurant in town for a tough 4 course lunch before a leisurely trip back to Morlaix and even more shopping.

Of course it has been some time since we went to Brittany and, well frankly stocks of most things were low. This in turn resulted in IVECO level shopping with Xantia capacity. Somewhere along the line the need to leave room for two charges slipped off the radar and we arrived back in Plymouth in a car which could well be described as full.

Thankfully we did manage to create room and didn't have to abandon any children or go back for them.

All in all a positive weekend, and totally unlike ones we tend to have, one free of drama disaster and catastrophe.

This is worrying, very worrying.

R