Notes from....

It was odd to actually travel across America and actually see these places I written about two years before. Most of them were closed down but occasionaly you'd see a little store that maybe sold gas and it would just be a shack with nothing around it but desert for miles and miles. As you can imagine most of the stops are franchises now with the same level of plastic quality and dead eyed customer service you can get anywhere in the States but occasionally you would find a pearl.

I'm quite happy with the actual writing in this as well. I think the boy's a bit of a characture but as he has about two lines I think I can let that one go.

I had the idea of introducing all these weird characters together and having them traveling together like some kind of roaming circus/freakshow. When the list of essential characters passed fourteen it was time to scale it back. Although I have used some of those people in other things.

And one day the earth will tremble at the terrible tales of Jim Phrophet, Stoned Jones and Clearly Evil.

Squarepusher Verus NES

I know only about two people are going to appreciate this but it's the Squarepusher Theme done using a NES soundchip and it actually sounds great.

Everyone else that isn't particularly geeky or that doesn't enjoy the glitch techno is excused for the day. Go and run around in the sunshine or something.

travelblog: moment of zen in Bodfari

Theres nothing like driving a great empty road in the blazing sun and then the perfect song comes on the radio. My heart just soars.

(Song: 7/4 shoreline by broken social scene, road: Mold to Denbigh around Bodfari where the road starts to rise into the hills.)

Notes from the Road 7

Madison finished her drink with a contented sigh and, drawing her knees up under her chin, a delicate burp. We were sitting on the roadside with our backs against the wooden shack we'd bought the sodas from. The day was hot as ever and we'd taken the opportunity to get a little shelter and drink whilst Bran took care of refilling and restocking the truck which had conked out on us just as we were pulling into the town.  He was buried under the hood checking switches and levels trying to trace the source of the thick black smoke that had accompanied our unexpected stop. Not being of a mechanical mind he could have been casting eldritch spells over the parts for all I knew. Refilling the virgins blood tank and checking the chickens feet where angled perfectly about the distributor, trying to exorcise the engine of its unclean spirits like some kind of voodoo mechanic .

 

The place we were stopped was so small it didn't even have a name, just a gas station cum garage cum general store which was surrounded on all sides by the ubiquitous orange brown sand.  There were a collection of houses scattered around as if they had been dropped from a giant child's play set and randomly distributed according to some pattern indiscernible by mere mortal man.

 

We were heading North again but it would be many days and several hundred miles before we hit the mountains and lush forests of the midlands which Madison had expressed a deep desire to see and as it didn't clash with our 'wanky' aims we were quite happy to accede, in my case if only to keep travelling and talking with her.

 

Not that I was growing tired of Bran, it would take a lot of effort for his calm taciturn demeanour to annoy me. But it was a nice change to have someone to verbally spar with who could keep up with wild improvisations and bizarre trains of thought that for some would be totally off track. Also she was proving more inspiration than I could ever imagine. I'd filled up a whole hardback notepad since meeting her in that diner purely with thoughts and observations about her.

 

I put down my finished bottle looked up and saw her smiling at me and I started to smile back before I realised she was actually grinning at something just over my left shoulder. As I started to turn to see what had caused her grin I felt this horrible wet licking sensation about my ear and leapt up with a shout.

 

There at my feet not a bit offended by my loud oblivious revulsion was a brown and white dog of indeterminate breed and questionable parentage looking up at me, tongue lolling, like I was the canine Messiah. Madison found all this hilarious of course and even Bran had turned from his oily surgery to see what the fuss was about.

 

Looking up from the dog I was confronted by a small boy no more than 8 or 9 staring at us in the unselfconscious way that children have. He had strong black hair and was dressed in sneakers and jeans with a patina of the red dirt hard-scuffed into them.

 

"I think he likes you mister." Called out the boy. "He doesn't normally take to strangers."
"He's obviously got good taste," replied Madison "What's he called?"
"He doesn't have one, we mostly just call him dog." He said pronouncing it like a cowboy would with an A and W where the O should be. "He's for sale if you want to buy him, he's a great house dog."

 

Madison and I shared a look.

 

"None of us actually have a house," I replied "Although I'm sure he's a really good dog"

 

On hearing the words 'Good Dog', Dog, who had been sniffling around my ankles, looked up and started to wag his tail. He looked like he couldn't have hurt a fly even if he wanted to.

 

"You don't have a house?" He looked incredulous and it suddenly hit me how it must be to live here with so few people. Growing up never seeing beyond the boundaries of this little valley not experiencing anything outside of this small hamlet. It was too claustrophobic for words. This little guy had always lived here I imagined and wouldn't miss the wider world as he'd never really experienced it.

 

There was a bang from behind us and as I turned the truck belched its way into black smoked life. Dog jumped back and ran around the building in fright.

 

"Great guard dog," I thought as Bran leant out from behind the wheel.

 

"Trucks ready. Lets go." he shouted over the rasping resurrected engine.

 

"Thanks kid. See you around!" Madison said as she and I piled into the front cab next to Bran and he pulled away through the dust. The last we saw of the kid he was still waving to us through a big plume of dust.

 

We didn't discover our furry stowaway until we stopped for the night.

New News that's the Newsiest ever!

News is subjective. Things that I might consider vitally important and urgently interesting you might dismiss as dull or trite. That's how we can have both New Scientist and Heat on our news stands. You pays your money you get the news of your choice.

 

However when it comes to the TV news you are subjected to editorial approval, someone else choosing what news pieces are vital and what can be put by the wayside.

 

 I can only imagine the Meeting at the BBC TV news station this morning.

 

 

 

"Fairly dull day today. What shall we have as our headline news today?"

 

"Well, astronomers have found an earth-type planet which is the first that has the right constant temperature to have liquid water which is essential for life as we understand it. Even if there's no intelligent life on the planet now it could be fully capable of supporting human life in the future and might even prove a refuge should we continue using up our resources at the terrifying rate we are. The earth is no longer alone in the universe and it might even prove that humanity isn't either."

 

"Sounds great, prep everything for...hang on have you seen Brittany's new stomach?! Now that's a lead story! Chuck all of this scientific captain planet crap and get a plastic surgeon in for an interview. Get a dietician in as well in case she's on some new regime."

 

 

 

 

 

It's days like today I'm so glad my TV news career never got off the ground.

 

 

Mob Blog: Mall-icious

So I'm in town early today to get my eyes checked. My opticians is in part of a small mall in the town centre. I go into the open mall to find all the store shutters down and this weird ambient music playing. The only souls around are the living retired and my life is starting to feel like a George Romero flick.
If the next time you see me I have a greenish tinge to my flesh, I'm muttering about brains and I seem to be a lot more 'bitey' than usual, I would recommend shooting me in the face.

Or it could just be the flu.

Enjoy the silence

I had to take an exam today.

It wasn't a proper 'Oh my god my entire future rests upon what happens in the next 3 hours!' exam but it was taken seriously. We were all shut up in a room and given a test paper and instructions not to talk.

And I found it peaceful. Relaxing even.

For the first time in weeks there was utter silence around me. No phone calls or shouts for my attention or even people greeting each other in the corridor. It was totally silent except for the scratching of pencil on paper and finger on forehead.

To be fair though I'm kind of immune to exam stress. Anyone that's done a exam based degree will tell you nothing frightens you after doing two four hour exams in one day. I think I went through two Bic pens that day!

After our final final I met my friends on the steps of the hall and we drank cheap champagne and smoked big fat cigars walking up the street towards the bar and the rest of our lives. The photos of the afternoon and resultant night still bring a smile to my face. It may have been seven years (God, has it been 7 already?) but I still smile when I think about it.

The exam was okay today but I had to celebrate by having a nice cup of tea. How the mighty have fallen.

The noble art of distraction.

Right now Everything is interesting to me. Daytime TV, books I haven't picked up in years even DIY has caught my interest. Everything except this essay for my work qualification I'm working on.

Right now I'd rather watch the Jeremy Kyle show than put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). It's this art of distraction than my brain plays on me every time I have to do something important. Boo.

It doesn't help that I've got the new series of Battlestar Galactica downstairs ready to watch on DVD. That's not the orginal space opera saga pudding from the eighties but the brand new Dark dark dark series about pain and loss. It charts the war between man and machine and how choices are always hard, there's no black and white, only shades of grime.

Galactica is a perfect example of how to take an old series and breath new life into it, theres no velvet romper suits or cute robot dogs in this one, although if there was a robot dog he'd have a dark back story and have to drink heavily to help him forget some past sin that's never been resolved in his mind. Like the day the stick chased him.

The Cylons are great in it as well. Instead of being blokes in tinfoil suits they're all computer animated and have this loping unhuman movement which makes you really uneasy before you even get started with the minigun in the forearm.

Damn it! Now my Blog's distracting me! Right that's it. Back to work.






Oooh shiny...



.

Weekend over before it begins.

Stupid busy at work, and now my entire weekend has been swallowed up with 'stuff-to-do'.

 

Half of its work stuff Revision, meetings etc and the other half is family stuff and hanging out with friends.

 

Now I know how moaning this sounds, believe me I've been on the receiving end of long lonely weekends which I would give anything to be over to get back to the exciting world of work, but right now all I want to do is curl up on the couch with my current book, a glass of something poncy and some soothing tunes on the stereo. And not move for at least 24 hours.

 

Darn my sociability!

Charity Sucks.

Let me be more specific.

 

Collecting for charity in an office sucks.

 

I don't care how worthy the cause is I am not interested in winning a bottle of poly-malt whisky. Especially as it has been 'donated' by the person that won it in our last charity push.

 

I don't care about your fun quizzes or wacky face painting. I especially don't want to donate money to watch one of the few actual men in here be emasculated by you pulling out his leg hairs with wax.

 

If I give you money towards your cause do you promise to leave me alone? Because that would be worth collecting for.

Exhibit A

Photos now available of our Madrid trawls on FLICKR.

I'll add the descriptions when I get five minutes. To be honest I'm meant to be doing some coursework on Friday night but I'll probably make some excuse to myself and update them then. Kind of disilliusioned with the whole thing after failing by a measley 2%.

I mean WHO fails someone by 2%? WHO? Did I do something to offend the person in question? Have I in a previous life run over her pooch or something? Is this punishment from above?

Yeah.

I know its stupid.

Just needed to get it out of my system.

Better now.

And so to bed!

Back in black

You know sometimes things happen to you that shake you up a bit.

We all have a well ordered sense of how the world works and when you start getting on a bit you think you know your place within it. How it all fits together and where you belong in that picture.

Then you get something that makes you totally question not only the order of things but the things themselves.

I'm talking about the 3AM darkness, a sense of quiet panic that can totally swallow your soul. The gazing into the abyss, unable to sleep due to the shouting in your head that makes you wonder about everything.

But then at that time when things are at their blackest, if you're lucky like me, there'll be an angel dreaming next to you. Someone who is your strength and your compass.



Someone to be for.

Travelblog:Last night.

Last night was our last night and we celebrated in style.

First we found an Irish bar with an actual Irishman in it and persuaded him that the two spaniards and a dog in the bar weren't interested in the Wigan v Tottenham match and could he please put the Rugby cup final on.

Five pints and one fantastically close game later we got some food bought some takeout beer and headed to the park.

Theres a huge monument in park de retiro which looks over the lake and we were told to 'be there when the sun goes down'.

Following these rather cryptic instruction we entered throu the enormous park gate and heard a hellish, frenzied drumming the like of which I can only describe as being akin to those last heard in Helms Deep.

There were 40-50 drummers and at least 200 people drinking and dancing. We were the only tourists there and we soon mingled in.

It was one hell of a way to say goodbye to a city that loves me right back.

Time to catch a flight.

travelblog:irish bars

Irish bars are the new fungus. They are everywere and you know what you're going to get.

the craic is normally supplied by the beer and the company and with the number of irish expats its always availible.

watching rugby in an irish bar always separates the fans from the wannabes. Its such a complex game even the players get confused. So when someone you dont know correctly calls for a knock on, you know you're in good company.

The barmen inevetiably know the right places to go onto after and if you're really lucky their shift finishes in ten minutes and they were planning on going there themselves after!

My last night in Madrid, and it may be my most memorable and the one I remeber the least about.

Travelblog:El Rastro

El Rastro is a great Madrid Sunday morning tradition. After the late night excesses of saturday the people of this city love nothing better than to browse the stalls of El Rastro market.

Half of it is your standard sloganed tshirt and tat stalls. The other half is weird antiques and strange fashions that u cant imagine anyone buying.

Its so popular with locals and tourists alike that its developed its own style of walking. The Rastro strut is one where you slowly stroll with both hands jammed in your front pockets protecting your valuables from the numerous pickpockets.

drunk travellog: random snipets

Ankle length black leather skirt on a boy as pale as snow.

"Bobble bobble."

"Hi mum, meet Cindy!"

"thats every mans fantasy, park and ride!"

a busy bar with four people in it.

Rob chocolate.

animated toilet.

"taxi? My arse!"

a well dressed middle aged man, drunk, shouting "Lost!" at the top of his lungs at the pretty girls of the madrid midnight metro.

two lovers meeting on the steps of the square and being so taken with each other, for them, no-one else exsists.

Drunk travellog : mojitos in Chueca

Note to self. Don't order cocktails on the patio of a poncy Cafe when slightly inebriated without first checking the price.

At least not if you feel like putting your kids through college.

subways is subways

Subways are subways the world over. They are the great levelers in citys where the gap between rich and poor is greatest. The perfumed and the Prada-ed have to rub shoulders with those of us unfourtunate enough to reek of sick and special brew. Which is not me I hasten to add! Unless its a particularly good thursday.

Went on the metro/subway to see the home of Real Madrid. All i can say is they must get through some brasso with all their trophies. The pitch, stadium even their dressing room is impressive espically the three storey shop.

You can buy almost anything there from replica strips throu Real Madrid teddys on to models of the actual players. Almost anything, as you cant actually buy match tickets at the ground.

So they build you up about what a great side and how fantastic they are and then, "Tickets?" in the same manner you might say "Faeces?".

travel blog: an adendum and an admission

These entries arent well constructed, arent very interesting and probably arent fun to read. Lets not even mention spelling or grammar!

I make wild claims, dont finish arguments properly and never ever supply evidence.

I also tend to cover old ground talking about the same things but i dont care.

These entries are meant to be gonzo in the real sense of the word. They are meant to be read as written with no corrections, no editing and no apologies.

I'm sitting in a portogese bar in the middle of madrid with hams the size of tree trunks swinging in the breeze in front of me. Everyone else is seista-ing back at the hotel.

I used to hate being on my own but I have learnt to relish it, espically in a strange country where the language is a gorgeous mystery. You are forced to rely on strangers to help you out with buying stuff which can be embarassing but the sense of freedom that comes with the knowledge you can cope is priceless!

travel blog: timings

Normally it'll be the jet lag that gets to you making you feel totally on adifferent wavelength from those around you. In madrid its meal lag.

After days of good tapas we decided to have a good full meal. Not a problem madrid is full of good resturants. However we made the mistake of going for dinner at dinner time, about half six.

We may as well have been asking the waiters for deep fried elephant foreskin.

"we dont start serving dinner till 8," was the universal reply," would you like some tapas instead?"

Hemmingway said Madrillenos dont go to bed until they have 'killed the night'. I was surprised to find it was true. Not only for food but also they wouldnt dream of going to bed before dawn.

We dont expect such a similar culture to ours to have such different customs when it comes to timings to eat and sleep.

Travel blog: Tapas is the way of the future.

The theory of Tapas is simple, little and often. You have a drink and some cheese or bread with olive oil then move to the next bar and have some good ham with a beer. Then next bar a fino sherry with some olives. Ad infinitum, ad non infinitum.

The maderillos would never think of sitting in one place downing ten pints and then having a kebab. The restless latin spirit keeps them moving and suits the bar hopping lifestyle perfectly.

Its great for us tourists as well as it gives us a chance to sample loads of bars without getting slautered. Having the tapas with every drink means you never get really sloshed. The happy phase of drinking continues for hours!

Took a long walk today down La Gran Via and sampled some of the delights Madrid has to offer. Its fairly traffic heavy. Strike that. Its VERY traffic heavy with every avenue and alleyway crammed with cars vans and mopeds. All of the vehicles show the bumps and scrapes of what its like to live here.

It reminds me a lot of new york but with an actual soul. It has the spirit of Paris without the endless tourist traps and the friendlyness i felt in Berlin.

I feel welcome here, which is not something im used to feeling as a tourista!

airpueto

Madrid airport is a modern art sculpture put to industrial use. The huge space, with wooden rafters and angled skylights puts you in mind of a contempory cathedral. This temple to travel hosts more worshipers per day than madrids innumerable churches will host in a week. Verfent prayers to the God of lost bagage and Saint Christopher are audible from dawn till dusk.

They were still building the metro station that we were meant to take so a quick taxi ride throu rush hour gave us a glance at madrid from the asphalt.

It reminds me a lot of Paris but without the glaring tourist honey traps. The tapas are lovely and possibly the best invention since sliced bread. In fact they were orignally meant to be slices of bread to put over your drink to keep the flies off. Now its a stunning varity of hot and cold dishes all served to share.
Hotel is clean and ok, no AC thou but its fairly mild so not a problem so far.
There are hundreds of bars and resturants within walking distance and we managed 3 last night. More tonight no doubt!

Traveling isnt the bad part i actually enjoy seeing different cultures, trying new languages and enjoying strange terrifying foods. Its the waiting to travel that hurts. Every airport looks the same. Once you've sampled one awfull coffee you've had to remorgage the house for, you've tried them all.
My dream is to start a brand new airline. SOMNA-AIR. Upon check in our trained medical staff gently and competantly knock you the fuck out. On arrival you are carefully revived and fully refreshed you can start your day.

It cuts out all the pointless waiting around and endless visits to tie rack.

Yes i am still waiting for the frelling plane.

airport depression

Is there anything more depressing than waiting in an airport? They're places to pass throu not live in. Soulless dead eyed staff gape vacantly at you their personality eroded by too long staring into the abyss of terminal threes' departure lounge.
On our way to madrid where i'll update you from next.

Easter weekend.

Easter weekend rocks! In the cool meaning of the word of course. Not only do you get a four day weekend but you get chocolate eggs and bunnies!

Took a long walk on Friday with a few friends down the coast from Rhyl to Prestatyn where we rewarded our exertions with a nice cold pint of ale. And another to speed us back up the coast. It was bright and sunny and good preparation for our trip to Madrid next week. It's so nice having four days off AND THEN going on holiday.

Saturday was a bit of a slower day where we just chilled and then went to the pub with some old school friends. Its great seeing the people you grew up with, having actually become the people they always had the promise to be.

Apart from that its ben fairly dull recently, done a bit of writing but nothing I'm going to share here for a little while at least!

more later.

New Nine Inch Nails album

LISTEN FOR FREE

If there's just not enough scary industrial noise, underpinned by some of the sweetest harmonies you'll find this side of a Motown complication in your life.

It's this dicotomy of sound that keeps me coming back to Mr Reznors band although the best album was certainly the downwards spiral. Uplifting title non?

Thous shalt always kill...

THIS is brilliant.

I love the "Thou shall not make repetetive generic music." bit.

If power corrupts...

So first we get talking CCTV cameras, then we get lie detectors for Benefit scroungers. All this after text messages to immigrants to let them know their visas were about to expire.

Is it just me, or has Tony Blair's government just gone batshit loco?

They jump on the nearest sound bite however knackered and tired it is, and ride that burro till it dies on it's ass. But don't worry, they'll be another half-baked, crackpot idea along in a minute.

This isn't policy making. This is pandering to plebeian tastes and interests. Creating a feeling that 'Things are being done' whilst actually achieving bugger all.

I am not someone who naturally feels our rights are being eroded. I understand the need for speed cameras and warning labels but this is just stupid.

If someone is scamming the benefits system then there have to be more effective ways to catch them but think of the reverse situation.

You rely on benefits to actually survive the scummy life that fate's dealt you.

You've never even returned a library book late and every other week you're forced to go through Herr Voltniemers probes and prods asking you awkward questions about your mother and if you did five hours casual labour last week just to get the money you need to live.

How about peine forte et dure to get people to admit their guilt? It would save millions in wasted legal fees. How about the Judas chair for those caught feeding their kids saturated fats?

What about the Iron Maiden for anyone convicted of three or more Asbos? That would sort the fuckers out.



To quote Bill Hicks I'd think about emigrating but that would mean I'd be subject to our foreign policy.

Notes from...

I've just started reading Don Quixote and having that fresh in my mind its a bit of a surprise to come back to this story I wrote a few years ago to find Cervantes and I were thinking along the same lines.

I do belive its more important to be out there doing something than waiting around for something to do. Its a lesson that its taken about ten years of independance to sink in but I'm taking full advantage of it now.

My greatest fear is to be stuck doing the same things in ten years just because its more comfortable than opening yourself up to new experiences and the possibility of being hurt.

Anyway if you're interested the Gutenburg Project has the original Don Quixote for your perusal. You don'ts have to read it in the original spanish but the option is there.

However sometimes with Notes from the Road and self made fiction in general, when you read it back months or years later you find yourself physically wincing at bad sentences. If I could remove that final paragraph gentle reader I would, but it has to be an accurate reflection of what I wrote and was seemingly happy with at the time.

However juvenile it may now appear.




Bollocks.

Notes from the Road 6

Chapter 6


"We're on a quest." Bran had said when bad tequila and good grass had loosened his tongue.

"A quest?" Replied Madison rising up on an elbow to see him better across the flames.

We'd driven slightly off the road up to an outcrop which was wide enough for the truck, the three of us and a warming fire. There was no traffic of cars on the road or clouds in the sky giving us an unrivalled view of the heavenly bodies picked out like pin pricks in the thick blackout sheet of night.

We lay out on roll mats marking a rough triangle around the blaze of dead wood I had used as a cooking fire and which now gave us warmth and light in the darkness. Bran was lying on his back looking up at the stars as if he were speaking to it and not us.

"Yeah like, the Knights of old, travelling the land doing good deeds." He continued wetting his lips like they were thick with treacle.

"They were always questing for something," She said "The Green knight or the Holy Grail..."

"Pah! They quested for the sake of questing! The Grail never really existed. It was just an excuse for them to get out there and..." he waved his hand around ineffectually "..do stuff. The quest is the important thing not the prize at the end of it."

"I think I see what you mean." I said. "If they just sat at home doing nothing letting their armour rust they wouldn't have the opportunity to be chivalrous and brave. They'd just worry about the tax increase on mead and how many miles to the bale of hay they got out of their horse."

"Exactly! Unless you put yourself in a position where you have to choose to do the right thing how do you really know what you would do in that situation. What you're really like. Deep down."

He took a very deep hit off the reefer and continued.

"So they made up stuff to quest for, reasons to be on the road, doing good."

Madison accepted the smouldering paper package from him and put it to her lips. "So what's your made up quest? What mythical item are you searching for? Gabriel's wings? Custer's Cutlass?"

Bran rolled over and looked at me. I shifted as the ground beneath me became suddenly uncomfortable.

"What?" She said.

"What we're looking for isn't an object." I said.

"A Person then."

"Not a person." replied Bran letting his head loll back against his bedroll.

"Then what?"

"Meaning." I said quietly.

"Meaning to what?"

"Everything and nothing. The reason for all." Said Bran almost on the verge of sleep.

There was a pause longer than the grand canyon. The quiet sound of the fire was fully accompanied by the wildlife symphony orchestra highlighting the gap in conversation.

Madison rolled onto her back "Bit of a wanky explanation for a road trip if you ask me."

Our shared laughter roared into the night, binding us together as companions, true friends.

Bad-temper-minton

Football last night and badminton the night before. I've been busy busy busy.

Monday was the end of season tournament at badminton which was great fun for some. but not seemingly for others.

Let me explain.

The end of season tournament is meant to be a bit of fun without the innate silliness of the Christmas tournament in which fancy dress and playing wrong handed are considered par for the course.

In this tourney there's a trophy and everything. You are randomly matched with a partner and assigned a handicap based on your combined abilities. So if you get two good players together they have a minus handicap and if you get two bad players together they have a plus handicap.

Badminton is all about who can get to fifteen points the fastest. So If you start on plus five you only need ten points to win. However if you start on minus eight you need a whole twenty three points to claim victory!

I got drawn with a partner of similar abilities whom I would consider probably my equal on court. We had a couple of good games ended up winning one and losing four in total. The games we lost we scored quite a few points so we ended up coming fourth in our group of six which I reckon was actually quite good. Espically considering this is my first year of being in competition play.

However this, to my partner was just the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Bad losers and bad winners just piss me off at some deep fundamental level.

If you win great! but don't rub your opponents nose it in. If you lose accept it with grace and dignity DON'T storm off court. DON'T make yourself even more of a cock. DON'T not go to the pub afterwards because 'We've got nothing to celebrate.'

The problem is he's quite a good guy but this bad sportsmanship really ruins his otherwise quite nice personality.

Or maybe I just don't care about losing that much.

Meh.

Camp-age : The Return

Back now, smelling slightly of smoke and ever so faintly of good whisky.

Its funny how weekend when you stay in the time seems to just fly and they're gone before you know it. Other weekends when you go and do stuff seem like they last forever!

Up early on Sat and did a couple of hours on my coursework, then loaded up the car and headed out to Llyn Gwynant which is a small lake just by the end of the Snowdonian range.

When ever I go to the mountains. I take the coast road for one reason. As soon as I pass Conwy you hit the mountains of Penmaenmawr which jut out over the road, looking like they'll spill down into the sea. As soon as I see those mountains my whole body relaxes. All this tension I carry around like luggage just eases and my soul soars.

Sorry. Its true though, I see those mountains and I'm home.

Anyways we wound our way along the coast to Caernarvon and then took a sharp left up towards Beddgelert. One of my favourite things about driving in Snowdonia this time of year that you can drive for miles without even seeing another car. Its like those adverts where they show all this beautiful open curving road streching out invitingly ahead. Driving up there is an absolute pleasure, even in a 12 year old car!

We hit the campsite and then walked up to the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel where they serve probably the finest pint of best bitter in the northern hemisphere. It could the hours walk uphill from the campsite that make me say that, all I know is beer never tases as good anywhere else in the world. Maybe the Time square brewery in New York or the Hobgoblin in Reading might come close but its the Pen-y-Gwryd for me everytime.

Then a leisurely stroll back to the car for some supper and a tot of good whisky or two by the fire before bed.

My idea of heaven.

Back to work tomorrow and I've had such a good weekend I don't care. And isn't that the idea of a short break?