Archive for October, 2010

floating into the day

Saturday, October 30th, 2010

breakfast consumed and I am set for the day
except for a state of casual undress
that eases into a Saturday full of promise

frictionless state, free of strife

Lying Awake

Saturday, October 30th, 2010

Lying awake in bed is when you realise that when it all comes down to it we are all just animals. The grunts, loud breathing and snores coming from the person next to you!

the frosty overhang

Monday, October 25th, 2010

the central heating clicked in
and it was warm, at last,
the days of shivering
under bedclothes,
frosty hanging red nosed breath
relegated now to history

snippet on train

Monday, October 25th, 2010

The man was reading El Pais. I assumed he was Spanish and imagined him a few hundred years ago wearing the uniform of a conquistador. He may of course have been a Jesuit.

There was no way of telling.

Elsewhere in the compartment sat a few people in varying states of bedraggledness and a woman of indeterminate age. I wasn’t sure whether she was looking good or good looking. It was all a matter of perspective.

The train driver was also a woman.

I was only physically there.

third law of tinternet part 7 – addiction

Saturday, October 23rd, 2010

3rd law part 6

I’m staring at a towering in-tray. Most of the stuff in there can probably be thrown away or recycled. The point is I just don’t know because the higher the pile gets the less likely I am to tackle the job. It has to be said that usually when I do take on the task, which isn’t that often hence the height of the pile, I find a letter that I should have opened 2 months ago, or one that I had been waiting for but wondered why it hadn’t arrived yet.

It’s almost amazing that we still get physical mail. At work it will mostly be junk that gets binned immediately (or when I get round to it 🙂  ). Most people have learned to communicate by email, or instant message or twitter.

As the kids get older the snail mail system does lead to some amusing problems. Tom and I get letters addressed to T Davies. It irritates the heck out of him that I sometimes open his mail by accident. How was I to know? There hasn’t been anything uber-embarrassing yet. Just bank account type stuff.

Kids need to have their privacy though and at first it is a difficult one to get your brain round because “you have always controlled everything” when it comes to your kids. The hardest one was when he left home to go to university.

The old university thing is an interesting one. I did bugger all work when I went to uni. Had a great time. “Didn’t hurt me.” The problem comes when you have told your own kids that that is how you conducted yourself. Now I have nothing to contribute to the debate. As long as you pass and don’t get kicked out is all I can say.

You may have noticed a certain lack of flow in this writing this morning. It’s not because it’s morning. It’s because I keep jumping back and fore from twitter to Word. I keep doing it but not because I have an active twitter conversation on the go. Hardly anyone I know is awake. It’s because I’m addicted.

I freely admit this. It’s part of my rehab. It’s not really. That just came out but there could be a germ of an idea there. “The Philosopher On Tap rehab clinic for internet addicts”, specialising in healthy country walks without your phone. We could have individual lockers for people to keep their laptop battery and power supply so that internet access was denied.

For it to work people would have to admit that they have a problem in the first place which could be an issue. I’m not sure that “internet addiction” is a clinically recognised ailment yet. It should be though and someone has to invent or discover it for the first time. A bit like the “Third Law”.

There you go. I’ve just discovered something else. I won’t google it just in case someone else has already done so and not told me. That would be so disappointing. Can you detect an element of denial creeping in here? It’s a sure sign of addiction though I feel I am getting my addictions mixed up. How can one possibly have an addiction to wanting to have invented things?

I bet Leonardo Da Vinci didn’t have the same problem. Not that I am comparing myself with Leonardo you understand. He was the only inventor I could think of at such short notice. Barnes Wallis also springs to mind, the inventor of the bouncing bomb.  But I thought of Leonardo first and he probably invented more stuff than BW, not that I’m sure of my facts on this one.

Anyone who feels they have an addiction to the internet should leave a comment on this post. All comments will be treated in total confidence – our therapists are fully trained. Most of them have already been through the treatment themselves.

It can be quite tough at first so we do break you in gently. It typically starts by getting you to turn your phone to silent. That way you still have the comfort factor of the phone in your pocket but are already beginning the process of being weaned off. With the most difficult of cases we get them to gradually reduce the volume of their ring tone, or change the ring tone to something less intrusive.

I used to have “phone call for Trefor Davies, phone call for Trefor Davies” as my ring tone. My daughter recorded it. That would have been a good start for our treatment programme because I could never hear it – especially if I was in a pub and engrossed in conversation. I had to change it in the end because I kept missing phone calls and we must remember that the purpose of this treatment is not actually to stop you talking to people but to stop you using the phone to access the internet.

Talking is in fact encouraged under the POT Clinic rehab programme. POT Clinic makes it sound like something different. Mixed messages there. I might have to re-evaluate the name but it will do for now.

Branding is ever so important don’t you think:) . Most of my clothes have got one brand or another on them. It isn’t what you are thinking though. They are mostly ones I have been given for free through work – none of the names on the t-shirts are ones you would recognise. I’m not a poser, just a cheapskate.

Talking about t-shirts I am just making another pot of tea. I found 4 teabags in the tea pot. Obviously not cleaned out in between “rounds”. I use 3 teabags first thing in the morning but only two during the day. Need that little bit more of a kick first thing obviously. It isn’t a huge teapot.

3rd Law Part 8

The Ex Drip

Wednesday, October 20th, 2010

The drip is no more – it has ceased to be.
No more sleepless nights for me.

Tap, tap… taptaptap….. tap… taptap….
The duvet over the head, the radio on,
At last a rhythm to take me to oblivion.

But the drip is no more. It is an ex drip.

It rained last night. I held my breath….. nothing !
The guttering’s fixed.

The drip is no more. Will I be able to get to sleep without it ?

Sunday mornings in Autumn

Sunday, October 17th, 2010

I love relaxing Sunday mornings in Autumn. Classic FM on the radio, Anne pottering away in the kitchen whilst I sit on the pew at the table streaming consciousness.

The light in the back garden has a special quality this morning as the sun does its best to poke through. Half an hour ago the allotments were covered in semi translucent mists but these seem to be lifting and being replaced by a silvery glow. There are still plenty of apples on the trees in the garden. We have picked enough for our short term needs and are leaving the rest to the wildlife. It only seems fair.

A shiver of contentment ripples down my back. I have had a cup of tea, bacon sandwich with organic white bread (more…)

bright eyes

Saturday, October 16th, 2010


bright eyes watch
ripple shudders
penetrating heat
hisss es

Birthday Girl

Thursday, October 14th, 2010

As the civilised world revelled in the news that the 33 Chilean miners have been delivered safely from their 700m subterranean hell after 70 days, reports are coming in that one person is not at all pleased.

Insiders claimed that ex-British Premier Margaret Thatcher, reportedly suffering from terminal ‘forgetfulness’ muttered that she couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about, because as far as she was concerned, there shouldn’t even be any miners because she destroyed them all in 1985.

“Not so,” said International miner’s leader Bora Hole. “Mining is still alive and kicking, despite Thatcher’s attempts to strangle it at source in the UK. It’s gone on in other countries for decades, the difference being that some nations support their workers – who after all are the backbone of any national economy – whilst others prefer the financial sector as a source of national income. We all know where that particular strategy left us.”

“Yeah, right in the mire,” said a passerby with a Yorkshire accent who overheard the conversation. “It’s all well and good all these London-based fairies deciding the future of our country based on Thatcherism – but may I be so kind as to remind you that the British Empire was built on industrialisation – not paper shuffling and number crunching. Wallies, the lot of ’em.”

Apparently yesterday was Thatcher’s 85th birthday – eclipsed totally by a mining rescue operation in Chile – funny old World; wonder what Pinochet thinks of it all.

Trefor Davies at 10:10:10:10:10

Sunday, October 10th, 2010
Trefor Davies at 10:10:10:10:10

Trefor Davies at 10:10:10:10:10

This photo of Trefor Davies was taken by son John at exactly ten past ten in the morning on Sunday October 10th 2010.

the pilgrims – 3rd law of tinternet part 6

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

click here for part 5

It’s six am on a Sunday in October and I am up and sitting in the kitchen. I thought I’d write some poetry but I have disruption going on inside my head. I keep mentally humming the tune “In the wee small hours of the morning, when the while wide world is fast asleep”. In fact I lie awake and think of all the girls and never ever think of counting sheep.

It is as if I have noise pollution going on in my brain. This isn’t an excuse for writer’s block. I imagine that where that is concerned there is nothing going on in there. I fancy a cup of tea but in thirty minutes or so I will be making a pot to take up toAnne so I’m not sure. The kettle is on now anyway. Strange but the kettle is quite noisy and all of a sudden that noise has replaced the song in my head.

I am not in control. I feel as if I should be able to dictate what goes on in my mind but outside factors are interfering. (more…)

Reasons not to have a TV (not comprehensive)

Sunday, October 10th, 2010

Big Brother
Strictly Come Dancing
Changing rooms
Come dine with me
Weakest Link
I’m a celebrity get me out of here
The Apprentice
Master Chef
Hell’s Kitchen
Wife swap
Total wipeout
Deal or no deal

The calm of the kitchen

Saturday, October 9th, 2010

Well it was calm. John was quietly getting on with some baking – mud pie I believe. I had sat down to reflect in his company. Something was quietly simmering on the stove top. Outside the warm autumn day was also comfortable, a gentle breeze drying the grass in preparation for another mow. The shaking of bowls, humming to himself and occasional bang with wooden spoon was very relaxing.

Then the tornado breezed in. It began with the sound of a key trying to fit into the front door lock. It couldn’t. My key was already in there. I didn’t have time to react before the inevitable ring on the doorbell. I opened the front door to a cuddle and was greeted with requests for lunch at McDonalds. Ok Waitrose then. Huh! One packet of Cheezy Wotsits later and the individual tornado concerned breezed back out and left us to recover serenity.

Regaining focus, John continued with his preparations and all was well.

Eastgate by night

Saturday, October 9th, 2010

Eastgate was fairly empty despite the relatively early time of night. Off the main drag I suppose. My stride purposeful, the footsteps echoed off the walls of the shops and houses as I passed by. Then the cathedral loudly announced ten pm. The sound completely filled the air around me. What wondeful acoustics!

As the bells counted up I approached the Bailgate and the noise of revellers on their Friday night out began to compete with them. The party noise soon dominated and then the ringing stopped.

The Bail was very busy. Not being a night bird this took me by surprise. I made my way to the Strugglers to meet Terry and Mark and passed the windows of the Cloud Bar. The room was full of sophisticates dressed in their best and out to impress. Where did they come from? I noted @lesanto’s iQ car with personalised number plate.

At the pub a pint of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord was waiting for me on the bar. I took off my coat and settled into the conversation.

The Coffee Table

Thursday, October 7th, 2010
coffee table

coffee table

The coffee table is functional, though its intention is in the main decorative in its place in front of the fireplace. This is a room seldom frequented by the family because, sad though it may be, the television is elsewhere. As a result I, its only real inhabitant, use and abuse it as I wish within the limits of toleration set by my wife Anne.

I have the fire lit as I sit to write this and the decorative coffee table is covered with the refuse of the family. The contents of a school bag is strewn over it together with a trumpet case and a book, “Silverfin” by Charlie Higson.

The shelf underneath the table is covered with sheet music, mostly jazz that Joe and I occasionally get out and play. Joe is the other main occupant of this room. It is where he practices his trumpet. His music stand is a permanent fixture in the corner near the double doors to the conservatory.

This is a very comfortable room with three comfortable settees of varying sizes. Two of them are big enough to stretch out for a good sleep. It is also a very cool room on a hot summer’s day beautifully complementing the heat in the conservatory.

music stand
music stand

Anne likes to bring guests in here during the day, at which point the coffee table does become functional, for putting down cups of coffee in fact. She has, I think, grown accustomed to the fact that the underside is now home to the music though this wouldn’t be her preference.

This is not to say that nobody else uses the room. We just don’t typically sit in it as a family. We are fortunate to have a house that can comfortably lose a few members of this large family and even a guest or two. On the Saturday of the Lincoln Christmas Market the room comes into its own as host of the annual Davies carol singing party. Everyone gathers round the fire and sings carols until we have had enough.