Driving Miss Crazy

The other day I decided to go to London. The coach I travelled on was driven by Nessa from Gavin & Stacey. Well, she sounded like her. Ten minutes out of Cardiff and there came a little tap on the microphone, which jolted me from my early morning doze/daydream of world domination.

"Elow. And welcome to da bus.com." I didn't realise I was sitting on a web site. "'Ere are a few rulez like. Smoking - NO! Don't do it." Was this a new government health warning? Ironically I saw her slouched against the side of the bus with a fag drooping from her lips before we set off.
"DRINKING is not allowed. Alc-wholic." Again ironic, she sounded a tad squiffy herself. "Dere's a toilet on board. Which you can use." Nice of her to allow us to isn't it? I was expecting a bucket on the side of the M4. "We 'ave everything on here to cater for yewer needs. A fire extinguisher, first aid kit." EVERYTHING I have ever wanted. "Oh. There are seat belts. WEAR 'EM!" I felt for my safety more if I didn't fasten mine, I can tell you that now. "Da seat belts are there for a reason, you know." No shit Sherlock. She'll probably tie us up in them and abandon the bus in Newport, cackling manically.
"Sit back then." She pauses dramatically. It's a pause Harold Pinter would be proud of. "Let's see if I gets you to London."

I had no idea there was an 'if' involved in this contract I entered into. You could tell she was smiling as she said it. I must admit, I uttered a little prayer under my breath. And I don't even believe in God.

Luckily I did make it to London. My sanity however, only just got there, having been squished next to a 56 stone Alfred Hitchcock-alike coughing and sneezing for three hours. He was like a walking noro-virus-Daily-Mail-scare-story-super-bug. When I got off the bus I resembled an old crumpled BHS sock recovered from behind the radiator. That had been there since 1989.
I played Dolly Parton loudly on my ipod to seek revenge. He didn't look like a Dolly-man. Although I must admit giggling when the man suffocating me, made comedy trumpet sounds blowing into his hankerchief. Those kinds of sound effects are usually only ever heard on whimsical Carry On films.

I'd miss the comedy real life throws up at me really, no matter how much I complain about it...

See my photos of London here.

Confirmed - I Like Trash

The other day, I took a photograph. On reflection of it, I have come to the conclusion that I am a little odd. Well, I've known that for a while, but was in denial. (And people who know me will wonder why it's taken me this long to realise...) When out and about, I often seem to find things that amuse me. These could be odd objects left behind or abandoned, silly graffiti that just makes me laugh, or just something bizarre and random. I like to photograph them. I was out walking and spotted this discarded shopping list...as soon as I saw it, I realised there was something about it that really tickled me. I wasn't exactly sure why, but I just knew it did. So I had to photograph it, even just on my camera phone, to preserve it's quirkiness before it disappeared off into the wind, or disintegrated by rain and other elements, never to be seen by human eyes again. The idea of that almost upsets me. Which is why I realise I am rather odd. What is it about an unwanted shopping...

Gabriel Yared Came to Wales

Gabriel Yared performed a concert at the Millennium Centre on Friday night. Accompanied by the world class BBC Symphony Orchestra of Wales, Gabriel played a selection of his beautiful scores for films such as The English Patient , Betty Blue , Cold Mountain and my personal favourite, The Talented Mr Ripley . It was a heartfelt tribute to the late film director Anthony Minghella, who collaborated with Yared for many films. When I first became seriously interested in music, it was through film and soundtracks that this love grew from. I must confess I was never much of a classical music fan either, until I started watching more films. One of the first classical composers I began to appreciate was Beethoven, (rather alarmingly you might say) because of Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange . I guess this makes me rather Alex-esque. But I promise I am not into 'ultra-violence'. But soundtracks awakened my love of music. Which had always been there, but had been lying dormant. The Talen...

Snowdonia

Sudden vast beasts wall the scape, Gone are greens, now reds do drape; Moist air so still, yet majestic, proud, Rocky streams gush force and loud. Bony trees, clawed and long, Mountain King Peacock struts and strong, Artery dry stones reach so high, They pathway up beyond the sky. The mist above clouds darkened dream, Crystal water so pure, barely seen, O now understanding why Eryri gave blame, Resplendent dramatics inspired Ray of Light, his name. I wish I was the mist that swirls the air, I wish I was the peak that towers to dare, I wish I was the force of beauty that all can see; I wish I was the feeling of so meant to be.

Whimsical Musings of a Loon

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