The Age of Aquarius

You'd think that DavidBaileyHuw would have the decency to 'dress' his model before flashing, or at least tell her that bra straps and vest straps are not in alignment, a typical Venus and Mars scenario eh? or is it another dawning of the age of Aquarius when it’s Jupiter which is aligned with Mars? ......and that her shorts look more akin to something out of Kylie's wardrobe than that of an ageing MSer?

This was one Friday evening July 2006 at a place called Cefn Bryn on The Gower. It is scattered with Neolithic/Bronze-age burial chambers, and other such stony pre-historic mounds, as if it had rained boulders nearly 3000 yrs BC; one in particular being the most well known, a cromlech (cairn) called King Arthur's Stone.

I suspect that the earth must have moved since we last went there or possibly Dr. Who and his sonic screwdriver had dropped in from the thundery purple sky because it certainly looks different to your typical cromlech these days-we have an old photo of a 6yr old Steff standing under it pretending to hold up the 25 ton capstone. It now looks like a heap of rubble scattered with Ronald MacDonald type detritus.

This photo is called Spot the Husband-can you see him trying to take a shot under that capstone?

This is it......

We also have a tale about that 6yr old Steff when we visited there one hot summer. There had been fires all over Gower because most of its acreage is peaty moor land and Cefn Bryn itself had been smouldering away for about two months, a bit like the late Ron Perkins with his pipe.

When we got there it was very dry but no fires i.e. until we started walking over to Arthur's Stone and someone walking ahead of us threw a cigarette butt on the peaty grass. Could the smoker have caused the path to smoke in passing? therefore could this even be the derivation of the phrase ‘passive’ smoking?

The next thing we knew was the familiar voice of a 6yr old boy crying out those all too familiar words, 'Maaammmyyyyyyyy!!! I want to wee-weeeeee!' Huw said, 'Go wee over there and put that fire out!" So he did - a bladderful, and succeeded in extinguishing the smouldering peat.

So Steff's claim to fame, for everybody has at least one, is that he prevented the whole of the Gower Peninsula from smoking itself into oblivion just by aiming his congenital genitalia and shooting!

Happy days, eh?

1st &3rd photos courtesy of Huw. Other photos courtesy of explore-gower

Just for today

Text © Alice Bergin AngelBooks Photo © Eiona Roberts

This Momentous Day

This Momentous Day

Each smallest act of kindness reverberates across great distances and spans of time,affecting lives unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo,
because kindness is passed on and grows each time it's passed,
until a simple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage years later and far away.
Likewise, each small meanness, each expression of hatred, each act of evil.

by H.R.White

Autumn on Planet Paradise

LLANSTEFFAN

RIVER TOWY outside CARMARTHEN

WRECK at FERRYSIDE

LOWER LLIW VALLEY RESERVOIR

From MYNYDD GELLIWASTAD (above our 'ouse)


CAT'S EYES- Bank of the RIVER TAWE

LLIW VALLEY

GLYNCOLLEN WOODS very near home

A Bit of Frivolity

Leading on from the Laughter is the Best Medicine tome earlier in this Blog......it really does the soul a bit of good to engage in frivolous conversations such as you get in the Humour Forum on the MSRC MESSAGEBOARDS It never ceases to amaze me how a one liner of a joke can lead to the following:-

MY CUCKOO CLOCK IS BROKEN

My cuckoo clock is broken,
All it does is weakly shrug.
I must have wound it far too often
Or it may have caught a bug.

I really hope ‘snot woodworm,
Or I must phone Rentokil!
Oh my poor old cuckoo
Let’s hope you’re not too ill!

Until I find what ails thee,
I might stay too long in bed,
So I’m afraid my dearest cuckoo,
I’ve bought a digital clock instead!

Tales of Whales and Waterbeds

If you’re considering getting a waterbed then, don’t! Stoppit!

NOW!!!!

We had to sleep on a waterbed when we house-sat for a friend in Holland August 2005. I didn’t know I would have to rest my weary body every night on this until it was too late to cancel.

I’m used to sleeping on a hard orthopaedic bed so I really had no idea how my back would cope. Before we went, I'd run the whole gamut of leg-pulling about sea–sickness and having to wear my Travel Bands to go to bed.However, that in itself proved not to be a problem, though the squelchy, burpy noise every time each one of us tried to move was a bit off-putting. I wasn’t sure if I was Jonah in the belly of the whale or if indeed I was the whale itself with all the sloshing, slooshing noises going on.

It certainly sounded as if we were deep in the bowels of someone with gastro-entiritis, or even worse someone with a belly full of beer and the customary ' 'dessert' of a doner kebab. Here's a pic to take away that thought....

It was really comfy if you were happy to remain in one position all night but the big problem was that once I was in a sleeping position, the bed enveloped me to the extent I couldn’t move, because in order to turn over I needed a firm base to lever myself off.

Not only could I not turn or roll over , I couldn’t even sit myself up in it, let alone get out of the bed. I felt as if I was stuck in a quagmire. I needed Huw to physically manhandle me in order to move. Whenever I'd managed to sit up unaided, I just fell back again. Had my core stability disappeared overnight? I think not, for I was not the only user of the bed to have problems; Huw the rock was well and truly sunk at times as well.

The size of the bed must have been Soopa-Doopa XXX Large California double burger-king-size (well the Dutch ARE tall). As we waved goodnight to each other we joined in a chorus of ‘My Bonnie lies over the Ocean’ before sailing off into the sea of dreams, or possibly floating/drowning in quicksand.

And come to think of it, now I’ve mentioned XXX, I wonder how people are meant to carry out the nuptials in such an environment. It was like a space shuttle trying to dock with an orbiting satellite only trickier.I mean how does a partner find the other’s G-spot when both bodies are floating off in opposite directions?

After many attempts of lying there trying to keep still as the other body ‘docked’, humming 'Rule Britannia' and keeping a stiff upper wotsit to bide the time, we gave up. I wasn’t worried about the other half feeling a little deflated but I was very concerned in case we punctured the bed, so we pulled out the plug on any notion of a romantic holiday, notwithstanding visions of the Dutch legend of the little boy sticking his finger in the dyke to stop the Polder leaking

Welterusten Vrienden en versnapering mijmert!

PS A lesson in Geography...this was the heart of the Polders, land reclaimed from the sea and therefore once a whaling community.

PPS READ ABOUT WHALES AND WHEELIES HERE

Just in case you don't know !

CLICK HERE!