Back in the Smoke

Well, to quote Samwise himself, "I'm back".

As suspected, there is only so much family a body can take these days, much as I love them, and it is a relief to be back at the Athenaeum Club in front of mine own computer and clutching a cup of coffee.

To be fair, most of the week was spent in Wales with mother, surly 16 year old nephew/Godson, and littlest niece. Godson's voice is not so much broken as badly cracked, and a great deal of effort was expended in not laughing like a drain as he moved from baritone to soprano three or four times in a sentence. That said, he's a hefty brute, and only a couple of inches shorter than his Uncle Bry. I expect that sometime within the next 12 months it will be me doing the looking up, rather than him. Luckily, he is an even bigger softie than your favourite correspondent, so I do not expect the balance of power to shift quite as drastically as the centre of gravity.

Much of the week has been engaged in wandering up and down beaches, digging channels, diverting littlest niece and streams between rock pools. Dams were involved, and so were starfish.

I have also discovered why the Welsh rarely laugh, unless they are in England. There are no dentists. Even by our infamous UK standards, the Welsh coast is ill-served by the buggers. Since dental pain is pretty much the worst I have ever experienced, I can only assume that is the reason why Baptists and Methodists have such a hold on the Valleys.

On the other hand, I have discovered the magnificent restorative power of Oil of Cloves which did in three hours and two applications what paracetamol and codeine could not achieve in three weeks of constant liver abuse. It turned the pain off. Permanently. Admittedly Oil of Cloves tastes pretty much how I imagine a Turkish Wrestler's jock strap might, but a good strong mint clears that. And hey, no pain.

I still need to find a dentist, but now it is a more leisurely affair, so I can wait on an NHS dentist which means I shall not need to mortgage my soul, not that of my first born to the seventh generation.

Those of you who have emailed me with queries about the NWO characters what I wrote, I beg your indulgence for a day or so further. The forum is covered in new postings which I need to digest before thinking through the oddities you have come up with. I shall get back to you shortly.

I daresay that there's more I should write, but let's break ourselves in gently, shall we? I wouldn't want you to overdose on these witty little entries after an absence of ten days.

Apart from which I have a hankering for cheese. Toasted, mostly.

Back in the Smoke

Well, to quote Samwise himself, "I'm back".

As suspected, there is only so much family a body can take these days, much as I love them, and it is a relief to be back at the Athenaeum Club in front of mine own computer and clutching a cup of coffee.

To be fair, most of the week was spent in Wales with mother, surly 16 year old nephew/Godson, and littlest niece. Godson's voice is not so much broken as badly cracked, and a great deal of effort was expended in not laughing like a drain as he moved from baritone to soprano three or four times in a sentence. That said, he's a hefty brute, and only a couple of inches shorter than his Uncle Bry. I expect that sometime within the next 12 months it will be me doing the looking up, rather than him. Luckily, he is an even bigger softie than your favourite correspondent, so I do not expect the balance of power to shift quite as drastically as the centre of gravity.

Much of the week has been engaged in wandering up and down beaches, digging channels, diverting littlest niece and streams between rock pools. Dams were involved, and so were starfish.

I have also discovered why the Welsh rarely laugh, unless they are in England. There are no dentists. Even by our infamous UK standards, the Welsh coast is ill-served by the buggers. Since dental pain is pretty much the worst I have ever experienced, I can only assume that is the reason why Baptists and Methodists have such a hold on the Valleys.

On the other hand, I have discovered the magnificent restorative power of Oil of Cloves which did in three hours and two applications what paracetamol and codeine could not achieve in three weeks of constant liver abuse. It turned the pain off. Permanently. Admittedly Oil of Cloves tastes pretty much how I imagine a Turkish Wrestler's jock strap might, but a good strong mint clears that. And hey, no pain.

I still need to find a dentist, but now it is a more leisurely affair, so I can wait on an NHS dentist which means I shall not need to mortgage my soul, not that of my first born to the seventh generation.

Those of you who have emailed me with queries about the NWO characters what I wrote, I beg your indulgence for a day or so further. The forum is covered in new postings which I need to digest before thinking through the oddities you have come up with. I shall get back to you shortly.

I daresay that there's more I should write, but let's break ourselves in gently, shall we? I wouldn't want you to overdose on these witty little entries after an absence of ten days.

Apart from which I have a hankering for cheese. Toasted, mostly.