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Please note: for blog archives post September 2006 please visit my new blog at Bloggertropolis.
Friday 1st September 2006
Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit
Effing weather! How can there be a skull baking heatwave the week before my holiday when I’m helplessly manacled to my local authority desk (I kid you not - so far I’ve only avoided having an orange stuffed in my mouth by the skin of my teeth) and then piss down every single day of my sodding vacation when I’m up to my hips in Bermuda shorts and Sainsbury’s own sun tan lotion? I think we suffered the wettest week in Wales since the first leek first seeded itself in the deep rich taffy soil of Gwynedd. Carol Kirkwood should be taken out the back of Broadcasting House and kneecapped to within an inch of her meteorological know-how. Where was the sun you promised me, bitch?
Ok. Breathe in. Breathe out. I’m cool. Truth is the weather forecasts were looking pretty ropey from the start but we just thought what the hell. And at the end of the day, even though we did have a rain experience pretty much every day of the holiday, we still had an amazing time. There’s just something about being in Wales that makes me, not indifferent to the weather, but more inclined to submit myself to its many vagaries with much better grace than I can usually manage at any other point in the year. And our palatial Vango Diablo 600 über-tent certainly proved itself up to the mark in terms of keeping us dry and comfortable while the elements outside did their worst. I actually think we were more secure than the small ragbag army of caravaneers with whom we shared the camp site. What a strange breed they are. They spend a fortune on a state of the art caravan which they then permanently shackle to a field in Wales by the judicious use of wheel clamps, pack it full of barbeques, garden furniture and Terry Pratchett paperbacks (surely as fuel for the barbeque?) and then they leave it to depreciate over the next ten or fifteen years after which it is eventually towed away and replaced with yet another state of the art caravan which must, at whatever cost, be of a slightly higher calibre than their camp site neighbour’s. They’re just middle class pikeys. And why do they all wear those abominable above-the-knee khaki shorts - even the women? Without fail they all have exactly the same shaped legs dangling from beneath them. Calf muscles like pineapples, knees like bed-knobs and thigh stubble like Sean Bean’s left armpit. The thought of any love-action actually taking place inside those carnivalesque cans of middle class consumerism (the caravans, that is) fair turns my stomach. It would be like watching two bulls mating. Yuck. I’ll pass on the salted beef if you don’t mind.
Thankfully Karen and I were spared having to interact too much with the Carry On Camping lot by the luck of our hardy natures. We refused to let the weather confine us to camp and managed to get out every day of our break and experience some of the many wonders of mid Wales: Castel Y Bere, Bird Rock, Aberdyfi, Barmouth and Harlech to name just a few of the many Welsh resorts that were brought into magnificent bloom by our generous patronage. In fact the only day that the weather really got to us was the Friday - a full blown thunderstorm caught us mid way around a 3 mile walk through open forest on our way to the remains of an old disused slate mine. We were all drenched within minutes... but, you know what, it didn’t seem to matter. Once you reach full saturation point you just can’t get any wetter. So we continued on with the walk and managed to have a really good laugh about it. Now there’s English for you.
Coming back home was incredibly depressing. Home itself is fine. It’s work and all the accompanying crap that gets my goat. Nobody likes returning to work but, geez, it’s never taken me this long to re-adjust to my work routine before. I’ve felt about as enthused and as sprightly as an old sock stuffed down Chris Moyle’s jockstrap. Only not as cheesy. To make it worse I’ve been snowed under with work from my burgeoning web site business, www.brightwebdesign.com, too: loads and loads of work coming in. Not enough to enable me to jack in the day job unfortunately but certainly enough to make it necessary for me to inform the tax man of my extra earnings. Not bad going and the extra money is certainly nice... but effectively it means I’m holding down both a full time job and a part time job, as well as trying to write poetry regularly, keep this site going and study part time for my English degree. Hey, I’m blowing my own trumpet but I’m a very busy bunny these days.
Talking of poetry I’ve also entered the Warwick Words Poetry competition following urgings from my wife and work colleagues (no, not the orange, I beg you!). There’s no cash prize (booo!) but the winner does get "crowned" Warwick Poet Laureate for a year (huzzah!) and get to read their entry within the auspicious walls of Warwick Castle (oooh!). A noble prize indeed. But I’m not holding my breath...
I just have a very large orange in my mouth.
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