where art collides

Good session in the shed last night. Had some neighbours around. One of them is about to become a grandad. THG asked me how the pregnancy is coming along. Erm. Tbh I have no idea what we talked about. Not babies. Definitely wood as I was showing off my new wood recognition book. @rob thought he already had a copy of it somewhere. Birds of a feather… 

Bit of clearing up required this morning before doing anything. The shed always seems to need a tidy. Non stop innit. It’s like the Forth Bridge always needs painting.

A nice frosty start to the day. Cars will need scraping before they can go anywhere. It’s the kind of frost you imagine Thomas Hardy would write about as his main character walks down the country lane bound for Mr Threshborough’s cottage. Or similar. Mr T needs dropping in on occasionally just to check up on him, yanow.

If I can get showered and dressed before the frost starts to fade I’ll take some pics. Add them to the tens of thousands of other photos on my drive that rarely get seen. The temperature is set to climb to a heady three or four degrees today. Almost shorts weather.

The Red Arrows are out practising. I hear them but rarely see them. Given up running out to take a look as they are invariably just dots in the distance by the time I get out there.

We cancelled today’s milk delivery. T-11

…

Du lait, doolay. Just sayin. Ditez moi pourquoi pas?

…

Storm Isha is on it’s way apaz. I say ‘it’ because I’m not sure whether Isha is a him or a her although my gut feel says her. Regardless of sex Isha is a comin and those in its path should batten down their hatches.

The funny thing is I doubt anyone reading this actually has a hatch to batten down. Unless you are of a particularly nautical persuasion in which case hello sailor 🙂Actually I know @Adam, @Graham, @Tim and @Nina have boats but Nina doesn’t live in the UK and Isha may be of no concern to her. Adam, Graham and Tim make sure your hatches are battened down. Sorry if I missed someone out. Get battening.

I quite like going for a sail but boat owning is not for me. Unless it is a little day boat for pootling around the Isle of Man but even then we don’t go there often enough to merit having one. We live too far from any decent port. Better to just hire a boat with a crew and spend your time lolling about at the stern taking photographs of the wildlife and looking for basking sharks, dolphins and killer whales. Careful what you wish for. 

Dear Facebook

I have enough warm socks, sweaters and coats and don’t need any more. Certainly not this season. I also have around five or six woolly hats so definitely don’t need any more of them. I realise you haven’t been pushing me ads for hats/beanies and now will but it is a risk I’ll take and doesn’t really matter in the great scheme of things.

My Wales rugby jersey style Fatface sweatshirt is on its way. It’s been ordered anyway. In a sale. I saw it in Abergavenny but they had limited size options in the store so ordered it online after seeing an ad on Facebook. So some of the ads are relevant!

I’ll be away for the first two weekends of the 6 nations but will be watching the first game at least in a bar. There is unlikely to be a tv at our location for the second game and I doubt I’ll need anything as warm as a sweatshirt. Maybe for the journey.

Temperature is still sub zero outside. Over breakfast THG and I observed that we were fine in our centrally heated double glazed house but our parents’ generation started off in different circumstances. Dad was born in Maesdulais, just outside a mining community in West Wales in 1934. In the family woollen mill to be precise but his father was a miner. The wool industry went into decline after the first world war so the next generation had to find employment elsewhere and locally, coal mining was the main alternative.

On a morning such as this my grandmother would have got up early to light the range and cook breakfast for my grandfather before he left for the pit in darkness. They moved to a small cottage built by her father opposite the pit in Blaenhirwaun so he didn’t have to walk far.

I remember staying in the cottage in winter as a kid. You really had to psych yourself up to get out from underneath the blankets in the morning. Breath would freeze. Don’t really have the problem nowadays although we all like to stay cosy under the duvet innit.

In our kitchen a pan of THG’s finest homemade soup sits on the stovetop ready to be warmed up for lunch. Perfect for this weather.

No milk was spilt in the production of this post.

T-12

PS the pic is of a painting of the Maesdulais woollen mill, known as “y ffatri” picked up by dad somewhere along the way. The artist has applied some license as I’m told the wheel was not originally in that position.

PPS my grandmother survived her husband by perhaps forty years. After his death she got free coal delivered for the rest of her life. Would have made a big difference.

I’m told there is a forty percent chance of snow at seven ey em. It is early yet but right now my spies tell me precipitation has not yet started. It is typical, if we do get snow, that my car, which would be very well suited to cope with such weather, is still at the menders awaiting a part. I don’t think it will snow. Most of the ‘weather’ is north of us.

THG is off on a train to meet some old uni pals this morning. Looks like the trains are running OK.

Today I have swimming booked for three pee em. Went on Sunday and the pool was rammed but it isn’t the same demographic mid afternoon during  the week. You can tell that Sunday afternoon swimmers are not regulars as some of them lack understanding of pool etiquette. Moreover there was only one lane swimming slot available at the weekend so every man and his doggy paddle will have been there. Fortunately I can be more flexible. The temperature outside is sub zero. The pool is heated so should be OK 😀. 

The heating is on and we are tucked up cosily under the duvet. Stay warm everyone and spill no milk.

…

I’d like everyone to close your eyes, turn your face to the sun and soak in the warmth. The decision of the day is which tee shirt to wear. Breakfast on the terrace or by the pool?

There is no rush to decide. The weather dictates a relaxed approach to the day. Maybe open the garden gate to the beach and take a plunge first. The sea is just the right temperature. If you stand still in the water little fish swim around your legs.

That is all.

…

The sky over the allotments is mildly pink. I am hoping this is no warning of stormy weather approaching across the Atlantic, hearing the news from the US Presidential Elections this morning. I’ve said this before but I wish there was a way to screen out certain subjects from your media listening. It isn’t practicable to just not hear any news.

…

A few small snowflakes have slowly danced their way into the back garden. Presumably the front too. I couldn’t hand on heart call it a flurry. If the temperatures were a little higher it would be a fine drizzle, mist almost.

Still it makes me feel good, snug as I am, in the comfort of the shed. I donned my Himalayan gear to cross the lawn but now discarded. Will need to retog when I need a tea refill.

The deck is gradually whitening. This must be an optical illusion as the Met Office is saying no snow in Lincoln. 10% chance. It is quite melancholy really, knowing that this is not going to last. 

There is a scenario where the snow fell so quickly that it was impossible to make it back from the shed to the house. I have supplies: gin, brandy and whisky, heat, a nice thick blanket and connectivity. However there is no food. Don’t think deliveroo would be able to make it.

I’d have to make a judgement call before the snow became impenetrable and plough my way back to the house. There is an 18th Bailgate Scout Group committee meeting tonight. They will expect me to be able to make it, being Chairman an all. They being scouts an all.

T-14

A very low sun barely made it above the back fence as I walked to work after breakfast. Left the heating on in the shed last night knowing that the overnight temperatures would fall below zero. As a result the interior of the shed is very comfortable from the get go. Fortunately it is dry so no ice. Yet.

Took a load of logs and kindling into the house last week but ended up not lighting the fire so that is what I will do this afternoon. It only needs to last until eight thirty pee em which is when THG and I watch University Challenge, in another room.

It is actually a lovely winter’s day outside. The kind of day where you would take the kids for a walk in Chambers Farm Woods or Whisby Nature Reserve. Frost on your breath. Glowing cheeks. Wrapped up warm. Always assuming it wasn’t a school day which it is today.

Long shadows cast by the trees above the shed. On a day like this it feels totally right that I managed to stack the logs into sensible piles. They aren’t piles per se. They are tidy row upon tidy row.

Sat in on the Monday morning meeting. Again. It’s just that I feel like rolling my sleeves up today. In fact as I write I’ve just left the meeting. Dull. I do have quite a bit of stuff to be getting on with so that’s what I plan on doing. Even had a shave wtf! Ready for action.

Had to make a second pot of tea for the shed. The milk I put in the mug was off so started again. Just a small pot. The milkman came at four fifty nine ey em this morning. There are currently five pints in the fridge including the two he dropped off this morning.

The thermometer is set to plummet. Real winter arriving at last. An icy northwesterly blasting across the frozen steppes of Lincolnshire bringing Greenland temperatures to unprepared yellowbellies. Make sure you have a good supply of fuel next to the hearth and plenty of food in the larder. You will not want to roam far.

I wonder if there is a temperature at which Deliveroo ceases to function. Where bicycle chains seize and insulated food bags are inadequate for keeping your chinese warm. Riders freeze. The only option is to bunker down, pile on the duvets and enter hibernation. 

The shed could continue to function as the operational nerve centre of all things Tref. It has all the basic necessities: very good insulation, great connectivity, a Stella Artois branded refrigerator, bags of computer power, screen acreage and a leather sofa with very cosy blankets. 

The preferred option may be laptop in front of the fire in the front room. This will need careful consideration due to the reduced screen availability. It comes to something when decisions are influenced by pixel count.

But first the journey home cross country needs to be undertaken. Two hundred miles of extremely boring motorway 🛣 driving. We complain but in the days of coach and horses this would have been a dangerous and uncomfortable ten day marathon that would not have been considered lightly. Probably would not have made the trip, especially as our stay in Cymru has only been for three nights. Whistlestop. Pheeeeeeeep.

In Caerdydd we are listening to the wireless. It brings news from foreign parts. Calais, Tel Aviv and Westminster. I turned the set on five minutes before the start of the bulletin to give the valves time to warm up. A few crackles and a voice came through loud and clear although we do have to huddle close to hear it properly. We sit in quiet concentration, digesting the information presented and thanking our lucky stars that we are ourselves safe with a roof over our heads. And bacon rolls to be consumed. With another cup of tea.

The Sunday service from York has kicked in. Doesn’t quite do it for me so I’m going to stick the bacon on. Bought some rolls yesterday on the way back from the Bannau Brycheiniog. I will not go hungry on this cold winter’s morn, in January, in Caerdydd. Blessed are those who keep warm when all around is frozen.

…

Paham mae dicter, O Myfanwy,
Yn llenwi’th lygaid duon di?
A’th ruddiau tirion, O Myfanwy,
Heb wrido wrth fy ngweled i?
Pa le mae’r wên oedd ar dy wefus
Fu’n cynnau ‘nghariad ffyddlon ffôl?
Pa le mae sain dy eiriau melys,
Fu’n denu’n nghalon ar dy ôl?

Pa beth a wneuthum, O Myfanwy
I haeddu gwg dy ddwyrudd hardd?
Ai chwarae oeddit, O Myfanwy
 thanau euraidd serch dy fardd?
Wyt eiddo im drwy gywir amod
Ai gormod cadw’th air i mi?
Ni cheisiaf fyth mo’th law, Myfanwy,
Heb gael dy galon gyda hi.

Myfanwy boed yr holl o’th fywyd
Dan heulwen ddisglair canol dydd.
A boed i rosyn gwridog iechyd
I ddawnsio ganmlwydd ar dy rudd.
Anghofia’r oll o’th addewidion
A wneist i rywun, ‘ngeneth ddel,
A dyro’th law, Myfanwy dirion
I ddim ond dweud y gair “Ffarwél”.

…

Cast off thy shackles

…

Whilst I was at the bar last night a fairy hairy bloke came and sat at our table. He had spotted my jacked, draped over the back of the chair, and came over to express his admiration. I’m always happy to engage with aficionados of jackets such as mine. Life is short. Talk to people. I wear it often.

Yesterday at St Mary’s Priory Church in Abergavenny the lady volunteer guide spotted the Route 66 sign and asked me if I had been there. That was a reasonable question. She was a good guide and was able to point out many interesting features inside the church. After our conversation she asked me if I would sign the visitors book and I was happy to oblige.

…

Made it home at a quarter to two. House is freezing so until it warms up I’m sat here with a tshirt, lumberjack shirt, extremely warm himalayan wool jumper and a thick woollen beanie with a v comfortable quilt over my knees.

Serious result last night. We were meeting the Bradshaws at The Cricketers and sister Sue dropped us off en route to her orchestra rehearsal. She inadvertently dropped us outside The Pontcanna Inn and as we were an hour early THG and I popped in for a quick slurp.

We found an empty table easily enough and sitting down realised there was a film crew on the table next to us. Hmm, something going on. Then people in period costume began to appear and chatting with one of them revealed that we were going to be visited by the Mari Lwyd. This is a mythical horse that traditionally brings in the old Welsh New Year which happened to be last night.

The visitation only lasted five minutes or so and we all joined in some singing. The pub was by then rammed. THG and I moved on to meet the Bradshaws.

“Meet the Bradshaws” sounds a bit like the movie “Meet the Fokkers” but it isn’t really. We had a nice chat and a meal in The Cricketers which is close to the Glamorgan CCC ground Sophia Gardens. I used to be a member until they canned the country membership category. The £250 a year they wanted me to fork out seems a little excessive considering I only went to see one game in the three or four years of my membership. I have now joined Notts CCC – Trent Bridge is a lot more convenient.

So today we are off to the Bannau Brycheiniog and Abergavenny, stomping ground of @adrian who has the shortest email address of anyone I know. If we spot you Rev we will wave. 

Oh and Penblwydd Hapus @sue.

…

Driving through the Bannau Brycheiniog farmlands the fields looked lacklustre and poor pickings for grazing sheep. Later the sun emerged, warming the mountainside with rich colouration.

A game of rugby was in full flow as we drove into Brecon. I thought about stopping but figured I’d be outvoted by the girls.

Approaching Merthyr Tydfil and  ‘civilization’ the rows of boxes people call home did not really fit with the natural beauty of the valleys. There were no planning laws during the industrial revolution and if there were they were clearly ignored.

You will of course be aware that hymn writer Joseph Parry, of Myfanwy fame, was born in Merthyr. Was sent to work in a mill at the age of nine. Must have been a helluva guy to have had that tough a start in life and yet end up composing over 400 Hymn tunes, three hundred songs, and 300 anthems, chorales and other orchestral pieces.

I won’t offend your sensibilities by telling you who Tydfil was. Schoolboy stuff.

Bore da Caerdydd. Slow start. Bacon roll and a glass of milk. Now listening to Graham Nash on Desert Island Discs. It’s years since I listened to DID. Hadn’t realised it was that time and it feels like the weekend, being in Caerdydd. We came down a day early.

Bit of pottering around this morning, conference call at lunchtime and perhaps head down the coast later. Penarth for a cuppa.

Was waiting in a queue yesterday and the woman in front of me gave her name. A good name so I wrote it down. She even spelled it out for me/the receptionist. I just googled it. There is only one person of that name in the country. I won’t tell you the name. She was of an age and you don’t hear people being named that name nowadays.You can ask me when we meet in person.

Google actually came up with two people of that name but deeper investigation showed that they were one and the same person. She moved from Birmingham to Lincoln around 2003/2004. Still further investigation revealed that there was someone with her name at school in Sheffield in 1947. Either she never married or someone was referring to her married name when describing their school friends.

I’ll stop there. It’s a bit pointless but it does show how much you can find out about a person just by using google. It’s difficult to stay anonymous these days. I once searched for me and not only did it tell me where I lived but the names and ages of my kids. They have changed since then. The ages that is, not the names.

Being called Huw Trefor Davies brings its own challenges. Oo that’s an unusual way to spell Trevor isn’t it (you ignorant person). Is that Davies with or without an ‘e’? Then I have to use Huw when signing up for things because they often ask for your first name, rather than the one you generally use. It’s even worse when talking to an overseas call centre. No its eff for foxtrot not ess for sugar. Whoodathunk my name would be such a problem.

Coffee in Chapter Arts Centre at 11. See you there.

Off to Caerdydd this morning to visit @Sue. THG is taking the first stint driving fair play. She can only do this if we are in her car, which we are. Mine is at the menders waiting for a part that is on back order. Could be waiting a while. She won’t drive mine as it is too big. Fair enough.

It is raining. Almost as if we are already in Wales! Our destination being Wales I have brought two coats. One warm and waterproof duffelcoat and my leather love and peace job. The weather will dictate which coat I wear. My preference is love and peace, obvs, natch, man.

I don’t mind rain although being a wearer of spectacles I am physically challenged by it. Usually I bring a wide rimmed hat to keep my specs dry but I’ve forgotten. Didn’t really even think about it until I started writing this. It would probably blow off in Wales anyway. I don’t mind wind either. You just have to choose the right headgear.

On a trip like this we swap driving at around the half way point. Made sense for me to take the second leg as I am from Wales and will be able to read the road signs when we are across the border. Attention to detail…

Stopping off for a cuppa with @mike en route so should get to Caerdydd just before the pubs open. I like to support the local economy. The Corp near Sue’s does a pint of Tiny Rebel. V nice. Likely there fiveish for a while if youi are in the area. Ping me. The Italian deli in The Corp does a really good pancetta and salami. 

I don’t need any olive oil having bought too much last year when I was going through my olive oil connoiseur phase. I do need some more balsamic vinegar but the stuff you get in shops here tends not to be premium quality. It’s only when you’ve tasted the good stuff you begin to know the difference. As a compromise I buy Belazu aged balsamic vinegar from Waitrose.

It is Thursday. No milk today.

…

Idling away the time in the car I wondered how much catching a train to Caerdydd would be. Lincoln to Caerdydd 1st Class Advanced Puchase with railcard £274, change at Nottingham. Lincoln to Nottingham is £9.30 – there is no ist Class. 1st Class Nottingham to Cardiff £87.50. The difference is downright dishonest if you ask me. No idea what standard class might cost.

So a return fare would cost just under two hundred quid. Times that by two and you could almost buy a small car and driver there for that. As it is I guess the Peugeot 107 driven by THG is an economic way of getting there, albeit not the most comfortable drive. 

The milkman came at 4.07 this morning. Didn’t hear him. Land of nod. I assume he wears thermal underwear at this time of year. It’s v cold out. At least it keeps the milk 🥛 at the right temperature. Woke momentarily at five ey em and pondered getting up but the next thing I knew it was six thirty and THG had volunteered it was her turn to make the tea. Result!

Gonna have some more axe action after breakfast. Logs and kindling. Fire was a roaring success last night. At least it is dry. No snow forecast.

Have also decided to up the pace of Facebook posting for Anne’s Vans. I did one yesterday and got a lot of reaction including from  an Italian woman we met at a B&B in Cape Cod. Neglected vans social media last year but this year will make up for that methinks. It doesn’t really take much time. Just needs me to slot it in.

PS

Just flicking through my Hilton app and seem to have a hotel booking in London on 16th and 17th Feb. However I have no idea what for. If anyone has a clue I’d be grateful otherwise I’ll cancel.

…

Just back from a swim. THG and I each had a lane to ourselves which is good. Looks like Wednesday pm could be a good time to go. Hit the steam room afterwards and I asked THG if I’d told her my story about the nude blondes in the steam room. Many times she said. Then a voice piped up from an ethereal figure just about visible through the steam. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it”. So I told it.

Many years ago I used th be a regular visitor to the European Space Agency Tech Centre in Nordwijk in the Netherlands. We used to stay in a very nice five star hotel on the sea front. One of the characteristics of hotels in Nordwijk was the all naked spa suites.

A pal of mine stayed there with his wife once when there was a beautician’s conference going on in the hotel. The place was full of young attractive women. This friend was sat next to his wife on a  lounger around the pool and asked her if she fancied a stint in the steam room. She declined and he went on his own.

He stripped off and went into the steam room only to find fifteen naked blondes in there. He told me he stayed in that steam room as long as was physically possible. His wife must have wondered what happened to him. Happy days…

Granola with yo gurt and blackberries this morning. Yum. THG does a very good granola. None of this sugary shop bought stuff. We picked the blackberries ourselves. Was a good harvest in 2023. Funny to be looking back at 2023 now. I had grown used to it. All things come to pass.

JPR died – you will all have heard this by now, first on social media and then on the news on the wireless. He was part of the wallpaper in the seventies in Wales. Aged seventy four. You felt comfortable if JPR was in the team. I lament the passing of the amateur era of rugby. Doesn’t feel the same anymore. 

Nowadays when thinking of people from the past I find myself wondering if they are still alive. I google them. People disappear from your consciousness and only appear when their death is announced. It’s an age thing. People get on with their own lives out of the media glare. Most of us.

It’s already Tuesday. Twenty twenty four is racing by. Don’t want to worry you but trefbash 15 is already booked. 12th December. Theme is Tropical Trefbash. I book it just after the previous trefbash. I like to see how it goes before thinking about the next one.

In the meantime lots to be getting on with. Don’t want to wish twenty twenty four away do we? I’d like to think it will be the most significant year yet. We should approach every year with that attitude.

The heating is on, for the moment. I had a few fifty pound notes going spare so I thought I’d set fire to them. Picture THG and I huddled around a small pile of banknotes holding out hands out to keep warm. Feels like a Banksy painting. We ran out of chair legs ages ago.

Not totes true. I have two magnificent logpiles. Some of the logs might be ready and I plan to test them out this evening. They were from a large branch blown over by storm Eunice the year before last. The one where the planes and trains were cancelled and we were stuck in Schipol for eight hours and caught covid thanks to some filthy disease ridden traveller. Thanks a bunch. Pal.

Fortunately the shed is v warm and is my destination this morning. I have made a fourth pot of tea. The other three were made by THG who is a wonderful gal. No biscuits though. Outside the shed there is some sort of purple leaved palm tree in a pot. It keeps blowing over in the wind. It is bitterly cold out there. Winter is at its deepest. 

…

Using my hand axe I’ve chopped up a bit of fence for kindling. Got a v solid bit of oak as a chopping block.  Taken a couple of oak logs inside and supplemented them with some of the kiln dried wood we have left from last year. A log fire seems v appropriate tonight. Primordial.

I suspect we never tire of staring into log fires. A latent memory handed down by our ancestors who would no doubt have looked contemptuously at central heating. “Think of the gas bills”.

Presumably they did sit around the fire discussing issues of the day. Whereabouts of sabre toothed tigers. Stay clear of them. The annual salmon run. That kind of stuff. It’s a lot easier to nip to Waitrose for some pre prepared hot smoked salmon, and a bit of salad.

Cmon baby light my fire…

For many this is the last day of the midwinter break/Christmas holiday. Some will have already jetted off to Barbados, others will be in St Moritz and the rest of you will reconciling yourselves to a week of drudgery and grind as your minds and bodies restart the process of wage slavery and refamiliarise yourselves with the office treadmill. Remember you have a team meeting arranged for nine ey em Monday morning. Don’t be late!

I’m only kidding. Like me I expect you are all looking forward to the challenges and excitement that lie in store in twenty twenty four. Bit of a rhyme there. Grasp that nettle and make it happen. My first meeting is arranged for a sedate three pee em and should be a fun session. Not fun in a barrel of laughs fun. Just interesting stuff.. 

I may sit in on the Monday morning sales meeting. I like to keep an eye on what is happening. It does get a bit boring mind you when each sales guy discusses in detail the facts of their opportunities. All I really want to know is how much and when the cash will be in the bank.

In the meantime, today is Sunday. In some religions this is the Sabbath and a day of rest and worship. Not in all religions. You can choose based on what you want to get out of the day. Sabbath and down tools or non Sabbath and get a few jobs done.

My 4 x great grandfather the Reverend Daniel Davies was excommunicated from his church, the Baptist Chapel in Llandysul, for allowing a farm hand to work on the Sabbath. I dunno whether it was a one off but the excommunication nowadays would seem harsh. They took him back into the fold a few years later. He too was married to an Ann fwiw. I suppose there is a scenario where she too carried the moniker THG but I doubt it. He probably called her Mrs Davies. Mrs Davies fach.

I will be putting up a newly framed photo of our daughter Hannah and boyf George. In the kitchen. Then I’ll probs make a start on the log pile at the bottom of the garden. Hard work mind you. The log pile not the picture. Also need to nip out t’t shops for a few bits and bobs including some more printer paper and a pint of milk.

Yesterday’s activities included taking down my map wall to make room for more posters. I’ve unrolled the posters and laid them flat on the other table in the shed in readiness for sticking up. Only slight issue is that I seem to have got a little carried away with buying replica Isle of Man tourist posters. I don’t want to use them all. Don’t want the wall dominated by them. Got a few gig posters to stick up and my super cool Monaco Grand Prix 1965 job purchaysed in Antibes last September. When I’ve finished I’ll let you know what I have left in case anyone would like one. FOC obvs 🙂In the meantime the wall looks very stark. It’s going to stay like that for a few days.

From mid afternoon onwards will be all about sport. THG and I are off swimming and get back in time to see Liverpool wallop Arsenal in the FA Cup. Then the snooker masters starts at seven. That’s THG out of action for the next week. She is an avid snooker fan.

In the meantime may the day bring you all you deserve, an outcome made more likely if you can get all those jobs done.

Ciao amigos.

New jobslist started for 2024. I like to have a new one every year. When I finish a job I just strike through the task rather than deleting it. That way I can look back over the year’s jobs with a sense of achievement, maybs. I accidentally added and struck through some 2024 jobs in the 2023 list but I’ll just write them off. Doesn’t matter in the great scheme of things. None of it matters anyway.

I like historical detail and my jobslist is such a thing. In a thousand years time people will be able to read my jobslists and get a glimpse of everyday life in Lincoln in the early twenty first century. Well no they probs wont. For one they are unlikely to be able to find my jobslist as it is in (on?) my password protected Google drive and even if it wasn’t it would be a small set of docs in an unimaginably large human oeuvre.

The lists could well be made public on philosopherontap and now that I mention it I probably will but even then that site won’t last forever. I guess there is the wayback machine, if it survives the great natural disaster of 2173.

This morning THG is off to the park run and I am not. She is therefore taking an early breakfast and again I am not. Her brekkie will likely involve porridge or granola and yo gurt. Mine will involve toast. I am taking advantage of this last weekend of the mid winter break to finish off any carbs left carelessly around the kitchen.

We also have a meeting of the Shed Appreciation Society scheduled for three pee em this afternoon. This is likely to be the last such meeting for a while due to other commitments but it will reconvene in the second half of February when I can put up holiday photos on the large screen in the shed for the enjoyment of the members.

Not really. Everyone will already have seen them on Facebook and noone is likely to want to look at them anyway. If I go out to the pub THG will often ask upon my return what we talked about. The truth is I will have no idea. It isn’t so much as “what is said in the pub stays in the pub’. It’s more down to the fact that it will have been forgettable banter that will genuinely already have been forgotten. I will have no idea how the new grandkid is or how the round the world cruise went.

The same applies to meetings of the Shed Appreciation Society. These meetings are relatively short and are conducted in the hour or two before people have to go home for their evening meal. Most members are able to walk home from the shed which is very wise as there is free access to the Stella Artois drinks fridge that resides under the shelving unit.

I dunno if I ever told you but the philosopherontap concept was invented in the Morning Star one evening in two thousand and eight. It was going to be somewhere that people could get together to discuss all things philosophical and creative. The strapline is ‘where art collides’.

At one stage I did consider an application to the Arts Council for funding so that I could sit in the pub talking pub philosophy with anyone who wanted. The money would go on buying beer for me and the pub philosophers willing to engage. Turned out that there was a ridiculous amount of paperwork that needed filling in so I abandoned that idea early on.

The website has been busy off and on. In the intervening sixteen years there have been two thousand two hundred and forty four published posts. Mostly mine but some by guest contributors – poets mostly. Nowadays it seems to be mostly the same stuff you get to see on Facebook but freely available to the world. No idea how much traffic it gets.

If you want a guest logon let me know. Ditto if you want an invite to the shed someday. You will find it a warm and hospitable place full of bonhomie and convivial conversation. Don’t expect to remember any of it though.

Today is Twelfth Night. You heard it first here. Well actually tonight must be Twelfth Night otherwise they would call it Twelfth Day. Also this is probably not the first time you heard the term so my statement is not totes accurate. Consider this as your first reminder.

This did make me wonder why ‘twelve’ days of Christmas. Googling comes up with results about the Christmas carol. Unimaginative, Google. However it is easy enough to see through the lyrical mist to find sources that discuss the historical significance of the song and on this occasion it was Reader’s Digest that came up with the goods. I didn’t even know that Readers Digest was still a thing. I suppose it is a trustworthy brand and can be taken as read.

Anyway RD tells us that “Christians believe that the 12 days of Christmas mark the amount of time it took after the birth of Jesus for the magi, or wise men, to travel to Bethlehem for the Epiphany when they recognized him as the son of God. The specific time period was likely part of the early church’s effort to adapt pre-Christian celebrations that helped the ancient Europeans get through the long winter nights.”

There ya go. I wonder about the logistics of their trip. How far could you travel in twelve days? Presumably there weren’t twelve days of elapsed journey time. There must have been some up front planning. Figuring out where to stay en route, where to refuel the camels etc etc. The modern day equivalent would be planning a trip from Abu Dhabi or simlar to Bethlehem in an electric car. Made harder by the fact that it was a busy time of year, as we know from the inability of Joe (?) and Mary to find a regular hotel room. And remember, they didn’t have AirBnB in those days and no tinterweb wtf!!!

The whole process for the magi sounds impossibly complex. There is no way they could have planned such a journey in the time seemingly available to them. Arranging hotel rooms en route would have taken months of correspondence back and forth until somewhere had been sorted for each day of the journey. It is also highly unlikely that they would have had advanced notice as this birth will have had higher levels of secrecy and security than any that had gone before. We all know how volatile a region it is in the Middle East. It’s dangerous man.

My only conclusion is that the wise men must have brought a tent with them and wild camped. It’s the only practical solution. This does feel somewhat counterintuitive as we know they were kings, from Orient far. For the reasons of secrecy already mentioned they wouldn’t have wanted to take their normal entourage, some of whom could have been sent on ahead, to pitch the tent or negotiate the use of spare rooms with local householders en route. 

Everyone needs a bit of extra cash at this time of year so that could have worked. However that would be fraught with danger. Spies everywhere. As kings they could have dropped in on the local royalty but as we know King Herod is the one person they would have wanted to avoid. Hard to make up an excuse as to why they were passing through without giving the game away. After all, gold, frankincense and myrrh were not your regular suitcase contents. “Did you pack this bag yourself sir?”

I’m glad I was able to provide some more insight as to why today is Twelfth Night. If you have a curious mind like me I know it will have been racing. You now have no need to call upon Google.

In other news I was awake momentarily at four twenty ey em this morning when the milkman rocked up. Pure coincidence although the sound of the front door opening could have disturbed my sleep pattern. 

We haven’t started on the milk he delivered on Wednesday yet. I will drink some of it at breakfast. It will be a late breakfast today as I’ve been busy researching the Twelfth Night and THG is already busying herself around the house getting on with her daily chores.

This does make me feel somewhat of an idle git but it is still the holiday season, albeit the last day of it. Tomorrow is the weekend. Good timing.

Whilst I have nothing in my diary for today I am going to spend some time tidying the shed and doing admin. I have a growing pile of paperwork in my ‘filing’ tray. This also tends to be where I chuck stuff that doesn’t immediately need addressing so I should take a look through it in case there is anything that has become urgent.

At some stage I need to nip out to B&Q to buy some tiny screws. I have some brass label holders that need screwing into the chest of drawers in the shed but the selection of screws I have available to me are all too long. 

Ok gotta go. I have a fast that needs breaking and being a feast day we should make it a good one. Ciao bebes.

…

Today I’ve been tidying the shed. Not finished yet by a long chalk but a start has been made. The map wall has been taken down in readiness for the positioning of new posters and I’ve put the label holders on the chest of drawers. At some stage the drawers will need some compartmentalisation but I won’t do that until I know what’s going in.

I also need to glue the butter dish, broken by accident (not by me surprisingly) over the Christmas period. We had only had it a few days!

My monitors have been straightened. For this I used a spirit level. You would think getting a screen level could be done with the naked eye but there were conflicting data points. I was using the TV, a device known to be correctly fitted in the horizontal, as a calibration point. However for this to work the screen had to be parallel to the telly which it wasn’t but now is.