As far as I’m aware I appear in three books pseudonymously. In Mr Ian Marchant’s The Longest Crawl and Parallel Lines: Or, Journeys on the Railway of Dreams I appear under my ‘punk’ name, as photographer Perry Venus (a not very funny spoonerism) and in Real Aberystwyth I get to be the even less imaginative ‘Steve’.
For the Longest Crawl we were privileged to be guided around Lampeter’s Pubs by the then Mayor, Mr Hag Harris; and although this is not a picture of himself it does remind me of a rather jolly evening.
Mythologised, if not immortalised, in print, and now digitalised by Whole Story Audio Books on the CD reading of The Longest Crawl.
As their Press Release so succinctly puts it;
Whole Story Audio Books – publishers of unabridged audio books – are offering The Longest Crawl for under £20 as part of their special Christmas promotion. Visit www.wholestoryaudio.co.uk for details.
It’s autumn for sure; two pounds of blackberries from the lane behind the house. I reckon there’s a couple more brambling Sundays this year though I’m told the Devil likes to spit on them after September 29th. I’ll take my chances; it probably only happens in England.
I like them off the briar, I like them in a crumble but best of all I like them stewed; a little sugar and then enjoyed with (say) Conti’s vanilla ice cream.
Here are some berries I enjoyed in 2007.
If you want to get my goat then your best bet would be to start up some heavy plant outside my window early on a Sunday morning. The throb of generators perhaps with a counterpoint of reversing lorry is certain to bring me stumbling to the curtains with an oath.
I recall one Sunday, about 10 years ago, standing outside Isfryn (where lived before Umsinga), in the lane, in my slippers, in my flapping dressing gown, berating the driver of a JCB. He was making a nice early start on the building plot opposite. It was 7.30a.m fer c*****s sake! Fair play to the man he went home for an hour. In the cold light of (later in the) day I felt more than a little bit foolish.
So, to this morning. As readers may recall, Umsinga is moored close up to that Cardigan jewel, Victoria Gardens. I was dragged to consciousness at 8.00am by the offending clatter of 3 sturdy fellows from Teify Forge at Lampeter. They had a long flat-bed truck and another carrying their generators; they were busy taking down the railings on the north side of the gardens, torches aglow. They had already got work on the kissing gate and were loading up the sections to take away.
See how I’ve mellowed! I dressed (after all I don’t live on a quiet country lane now), I went downstairs, gave Elsie some breakfast, grabbed my camera and went outside and took some pictures. They weren’t particularly joyful about this and nor were they particularly forthcoming about what was going on. I don’t blame them either; I probably looked a bit mad. Just as well I was properly shod and attired though.
So today Victoria Gardens looks somewhat odd with a whole of a flank de-railed. I’m looking forward to what happens next.
Here are the pictures, made in anger.