What I did on my holidays, by Bryan, aged 45 and a bit

And to think that just a week ago I was in Taliesin country with majestic mountains on the one side, and the rolling sea on the other. The nascent greenery of Spring all around. The only disappointment with the locale was, oddly, the sea. I love the sea, but it has to have rollers on it: great frothing rollers. Not this past week: I've seen more frenzied bath tubs. Indeed, on the Saturday when we drove down to Aberystwyth for the day, the upper stretches of the Dyfi Estuary, were so calm that you would have belived from the road that the water was just rippled glass.

Where, oh where were the spring tides, the roaring storms? None of this for Bryan on his Easter break, no. Calm seas, no hint of breeze, and several days of low cloud and mist. Were it not for the caravans littering the landscape, the scenery would have just screamed Mabigonion at me.

It also seems that spring is a little later reaching Wales and the West Midlands than it is the South East, and I fear that I have missed green day*, which I had not previously appreciated comes at different times in different places. I think I may have missed it in London, and it hasn't quite reached Shropshire and mid Wales just yet.

Several days in a caravan with Mother Dear and the surly 13 year old nephew have proved to me that such an environment is not condusive to writing. Between endless calls for more cups of tea and proclamations of boredom, interspersed with queries of "Whatchadoing, Uncle Bry?" I managed an entire three pages of the Casus Belli character sheet for NWO which barely scratch the surface of the character. Still, my light holiday reading, Marianne in Chains: In Search of the German Occupation of France, 1940-45 was completed and I have some spiffy ideas and sources to filch from. From tomorrow evening I shall be launching back into that with a vengeance, I think.

I made the discovery that O2 mobile telephone coverage does not extend more than three metres from the high tider line in Tywyn. It works very well across the bay in Aberystwyth, but it seems that Tywyn is a joint Vodafone and Orange fief. I managed a brief chat with pax_draconis by standing on the prom facing the transmitter over the sea, and wandering in small circle to keep up with the wandering O2 signal from afar.

Back in civilization, now and everything works again. Blessed relief.

Pity, though. I didn't want to come back.


* I may have mentioned this last year, but here it comes again: Green Day is the day in Spring when you suddenly notice just how green the world has become again. The green is fresh and unsullied, quite unlike the tired green of late Summer and early Autumn.

What I did on my holidays, by Bryan, aged 45 and a bit

And to think that just a week ago I was in Taliesin country with majestic mountains on the one side, and the rolling sea on the other. The nascent greenery of Spring all around. The only disappointment with the locale was, oddly, the sea. I love the sea, but it has to have rollers on it: great frothing rollers. Not this past week: I've seen more frenzied bath tubs. Indeed, on the Saturday when we drove down to Aberystwyth for the day, the upper stretches of the Dyfi Estuary, were so calm that you would have belived from the road that the water was just rippled glass.

Where, oh where were the spring tides, the roaring storms? None of this for Bryan on his Easter break, no. Calm seas, no hint of breeze, and several days of low cloud and mist. Were it not for the caravans littering the landscape, the scenery would have just screamed Mabigonion at me.

It also seems that spring is a little later reaching Wales and the West Midlands than it is the South East, and I fear that I have missed green day*, which I had not previously appreciated comes at different times in different places. I think I may have missed it in London, and it hasn't quite reached Shropshire and mid Wales just yet.

Several days in a caravan with Mother Dear and the surly 13 year old nephew have proved to me that such an environment is not condusive to writing. Between endless calls for more cups of tea and proclamations of boredom, interspersed with queries of "Whatchadoing, Uncle Bry?" I managed an entire three pages of the Casus Belli character sheet for NWO which barely scratch the surface of the character. Still, my light holiday reading, Marianne in Chains: In Search of the German Occupation of France, 1940-45 was completed and I have some spiffy ideas and sources to filch from. From tomorrow evening I shall be launching back into that with a vengeance, I think.

I made the discovery that O2 mobile telephone coverage does not extend more than three metres from the high tider line in Tywyn. It works very well across the bay in Aberystwyth, but it seems that Tywyn is a joint Vodafone and Orange fief. I managed a brief chat with pax_draconis by standing on the prom facing the transmitter over the sea, and wandering in small circle to keep up with the wandering O2 signal from afar.

Back in civilization, now and everything works again. Blessed relief.

Pity, though. I didn't want to come back.


* I may have mentioned this last year, but here it comes again: Green Day is the day in Spring when you suddenly notice just how green the world has become again. The green is fresh and unsullied, quite unlike the tired green of late Summer and early Autumn.

If you needed proof....

...that Microsquash are arse, then try downloading the new MSN Messenger on a 56k dial up. And remember that you're only doing it because the aforementioned Microsquash seem to have disabled the version you were using really quite happily and troubling no-one in the process.

Arse, arse, arse.

If you needed proof....

...that Microsquash are arse, then try downloading the new MSN Messenger on a 56k dial up. And remember that you're only doing it because the aforementioned Microsquash seem to have disabled the version you were using really quite happily and troubling no-one in the process.

Arse, arse, arse.

(no subject)

First day back in the office after Easter wasn't too bad. So much so that the only thing to report is that the refurbishment of the foyer is now complete.

The strange wooden bars now festoon the other wall too, thus completing the illusion of a school gym. On the other hand, there are lots of new plush sofas arranged without a thought to feng shooey down the one side of the foyer. The other side, of course is the reception desk. And very posh it is, too. Only the best for the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister. Mind you, it's not as if old Two Jags works in the building. No, that's too far from Parliament for his tubby little legs. He works in Whitehall where he can barrel down to the House and vote without even listening to the debate. Democracy; grand ain't it?

We have new security turnstiles as well, now that the refurbishment is complete. Big, slidy glass doors that open and close with a wonderful Star Fleet swshhhh. At least I presume they do. It's hard to tell with all the hubbub in the foyer.

At least I know where our budget cuts for the new financial year have gone.

Very posh. Very posh indeed.

(no subject)

First day back in the office after Easter wasn't too bad. So much so that the only thing to report is that the refurbishment of the foyer is now complete.

The strange wooden bars now festoon the other wall too, thus completing the illusion of a school gym. On the other hand, there are lots of new plush sofas arranged without a thought to feng shooey down the one side of the foyer. The other side, of course is the reception desk. And very posh it is, too. Only the best for the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister. Mind you, it's not as if old Two Jags works in the building. No, that's too far from Parliament for his tubby little legs. He works in Whitehall where he can barrel down to the House and vote without even listening to the debate. Democracy; grand ain't it?

We have new security turnstiles as well, now that the refurbishment is complete. Big, slidy glass doors that open and close with a wonderful Star Fleet swshhhh. At least I presume they do. It's hard to tell with all the hubbub in the foyer.

At least I know where our budget cuts for the new financial year have gone.

Very posh. Very posh indeed.