By buggery we've had some cold weather of late. It's been down as low as -6.3 and we've had some gloriously frosty mornings. No snow as of yet, but we live in hope. I start with this news as my UK chums all seem very keen to tell me about the wonderful summer weather they are having over there when I ring them.
The mercury dropped to a chilly minus 4.8 degrees at 6.51am this morning, topping off seven consecutive mornings below minus 4.4 degrees.
The seven-day cold spell is the coldest string of mornings since 1976.
Something rather wonderful happened a few weeks back, our TV gave up the ghost. Not something to celebrate you may think, and to be fair it wasn’t actually a big hoot. But and it’s a big BUT, we had been secretly wanting it to go for some time.
You see when I first moved to Aus, over a decade ago, and moved in with Lee-Anne & Bethy, one of the added great delights had been the HUGE TV they had. The TV, a 36" job, had been bought by Lee-Anne and Glenn just before Bethy had been born. For it’s day it was state of the art, and just about as big as they then came. People who came over and stayed with us when I first moved out here were very impressed by the size of it. But it was sixteen years old, and things have moved on since it was made. Don’t get me wrong, it still had a fine picture quality, but was of course the old cathode ray type, and the size of a small car.
But one night it just gave up the ghost and died. No, I didn’t check the fuse in the plug, in case it was just that which had gone, and it was actually fixable. You see, everyone we know, and everywhere we went, (and don’t forget I spend my time going in and out of other people’s houses every day in work,) had these huge, bloody massive, plasma/LCD TVs, and we bloody wanted one too.
What made this desire even more profound, is that once the old TV went “pop” we were reduced to watching a TV no bigger than the computer monitor you are reading this on. Also it was the start of the “Masterchef” series, and we’re big fans.
I did some web research; the top buy at this point seemed to be a Panasonic 55” plasma. I searched around and found that JB Hi-Fi had a sale on with 10% off TVs, they are also Panasonic specialists. So I turn up at the local branch, armed only with my trusty credit card and a head full of gross ignorance. I cornered one of the tattooed freaks that serve there, I got him to waltz me around the TV’s and we had a bit of banter. We found they had every Panasonic in stock, everyone, bar the one I wanted of course. Bugger.
“I can order it, it’ll take about three days to come in.” No worries I thought, we can survive that. But, luckily, I still did my impression of a man who was about to walk out the door and go somewhere else. “I can knock an extra 5% off seeing as you’ll have to wait.” 15% off in total then? Not too shabby at all.
Walking up to the counter to sign my life away, we pass the surround sound systems racks. A Panasonic Blue-Ray Home Theatre system catches my eye, we don’t really need a Blue-Ray, but we do need a decent sound system to complement the new TV. I could hear a screaming from my wallet as my well trained credit card got the drift. “How much can you knock off this one Pal, if I buy it with the TV?” He looked up the number; “That’s a display model, last one in the shop, and there’s no box with it.” He went away, came back with a slightly older tattooed freak; “We’ll do you it for $300 less than the advertised price, if you buy it with the TV.” Yep, that’ll do nicely! So I signed up, and took the sound system home in a couple of carrier bags. Then I went back, as despite having collected enough leads and cables to circle the world twice over over the years, I still needed to buy a different type, a couple of HDMI ones for these buggers. At $60 a pop.
So then we waited for the three days to be up. Then some more. Then more. Then more. Two weeks later we were still waiting. On the Saturday I phoned them from work; “If you don’t come up with my TV within the next couple of days, I want my money back, and compo for the fucking about I’ve had to put up with!” There was a pause on the other end. “It came in this morning, I was just going to ring you to come get it.”
Lovely. I rang Lee-Anne and got her to drive over, I took the works car around. Lee-Anne arrived in our station wagon. Despite our best efforts, the TV was too big to go in the boot, Lee-Anne got concerned, she knew how subtle I can be in situations like this. Fortunately there were no big hammers available to me, or I would have got it in whether it liked it or not. The guy took it on the trolley back into the shop. “We can deliver it, it’ll be $120, and we can do it next Thursday.” I didn’t hit him. Then one of the store boys who’d been earwigging said; “Why not get one of those big people carrier Taxis that hang about outside to drive you home?” Genius!
I hollered a disabled taxi, (that's a taxi for the disabled, not one that wasn't working too well.) Using the wheelchair lift on the back of it we got the TV in no bother, and secured it. I went back in the taxi with it. The taxi driver found it all rather amusing, a bit of a change from his normal dizzy passengers I should imagine. He was an interesting chap, he was Iranian, and had fled to Aus following the Ayatollah coming to power in Iran in 1979. He had a masters degree in Economics, but was happy to be making a few bob driving taxis. He was also happy that his wife and children had the benefits of freedom, education and equality, and that he wouldn’t get his bollocks shot off by either the Iranian government or the Yanks, should things kick off over there.
We got the TV home, and between me and Lee-Anne we got it set up and in place, without breaking it or us. We had it all running just in time to watch the match in Melbourne between the Wales and Australia rugby teams. Oh it was/is a flaming lovely bit of kit. Brilliant bloody picture, (now I’ve got the aerial sorted,) and the surround sound system is even appreciated by this deaf old twat. (Watching porn on it is a gynecological experience!)
Actually, that's not quite true, the first thing we watched on the new TV, was a CD of our holiday snaps from New Zealand. Seeing the images blown up to that size was pretty bloody amazing. Lee-Anne won't let me buy another 5" TV just for that use though.
One quirk, that soon proved frustrating, was that we now had a Panasonic TV, a Panasonic Blue –ray surround sound system and our old Panasonic DVD Hard drive recorder, all linked in together. Which was all fine and wonderful. Except the remote controls for each of them somehow worked each and every other bit of kit. So you’d try to use the DVD recorder remote to set up the timer to record a show, and it would turn the bloody TV off. Or you’d try to play a DVD on the Blue-ray, and it would start the DVD recorder going. Using the TV remote meant that switching the TV off turned the other two back on. It was a tad frustrating to say the least.
So I paid $30 on e-bay for a universal remote. This should have been programmable to control them each individually. It didn’t do any such thing. But while looking for the way to program it I found out how to change the other three remotes to work as individuals. Anybody want to buy a cheap universal remote? $25 to you.
Other shite.
There’s been a roo cull happening in Canberra, apparently 2000 roos had to be removed from the breeding stock. Not much fun for them, and a bit of a pisser for us. As they were using marksmen to take them out, it meant that our three main dog walking trails were out of bounds for a couple of months. Lots of cheap dog food on the market at the moment.
While walking the old blind dog the other night, a fox ran across my path. I tried to get the camera on it but failed, cursing my luck. But luckily two seconds later his mate ran past too, I was prepared for him!
Rugby, oh the bloody rugby! I was ever so chuffed that my good friend Kieran let me know about the Wales tour of Aus, especially as the only club side that Wales were playing here was our local club, The Brumbies. This forewarning enabled me to get online as soon as the tickets were put on sale and to score decent seats for us. The advertising for the tour was pretty shite. Lee-Anne agreed to coming up to Sydney for the final match, (as long as we made a dirty weekend of it,) but drew the line at watching a second string Welsh team take on the local boys. Never mind, I’ll go on my own then.
I drove myself over to the ground, which is only two suburbs away from our house, I wasn’t interested in getting pissed at the match, mainly out of self preservation. I wore my full "Welsh Warrior" get up, or my “fist magnet” kit as Mr. Harness calls it. I think I look rather spiffing. (Though some face paint wouldn’t have gone amiss.)
I was just walking up to the stands to find my seat, when a rather excitable young man ran up to me, followed by a camera crew. It turned out he was doing the pre-match entertainment shown on the big screens around the ground. I thought he was off the tele. I'd have told him to fuck off if I'd known I wasn't going to get national news exposure.He rammed the microphone under my nose yelling; “And here we have a dedicated Welsh rugby fan, obviously supporting his country on their tour of Australia! Hello, what’s your name and where are you from?” The look on his face was a picture when I replied; “I’m Taff Thomas, and I live in Cook, it’s a suburb just over there in fact,” I replied pointing in the wrong direction.His face was even more of a picture when he realised his reply; “I know where bloody Cook is!” had been broadcast around the ground. To be fair he continued to interview me, and fortunately did not ask anything too technical.
My ex-team leader Helen, who is also a Welshie, was already in the crowd. Seeing me in all my glory on the big screens was ever so pleasing for her, she knew then that she had to hide from me or be embarrassed. I did manage to catch up with her and her husband later though. No escaping me H!
I found my seat, and, unbelievably coincidentally sat in the very next seat to me was the very same Welsh guy who I had been sat next to when Wales played Italy here in the World cup qualifiers. I had only seen him once since that day, when he was redecorating the house behind ours, (he’s a P&D by trade.) It was great to catch up with him.
The two last times Wales had played the Brumbies, the bleeding Aussie buggers had beaten us, they are something of a jinx side to Wales. Obviously the Brumbies management made big play of this, and wheeled out some of the members from those squads onto the pitch to reminisce about the match.
James Hook of Wales crosses the line to score a try. Photo: Getty Images
In a sign of respect, Wales opted to kick two penalty goals in the final 12 minutes to ensure they didn’t suffer the same fate as their countrymen who lost in Canberra in 1978 and 1996.
Ha, so feeling enthused I awaited the Sydney trip. For this trip , and for the very first time, we were leaving Bethy at home, alone! Well ok, not alone, her boyfriend Reece was staying with her too. And the dogs as well. Well, actually, it was due to the need for us to have dog sitters that we agreed to this. It’s a mighty fine bonus that Bethy is now of an age where she can be trusted to stay home for a weekend and house sit for us, and look after the poor old blind mutt, it saves us a packet. It’s an even bigger bonus that she’s sensible, trustworthy and mature enough for us to feel safe doing this. I did warn her about broadcasting our absence on Facebook though.
We took a coach up, and, once in Sydders, walked the few blocks to the hotel. Yet again I find myself embarrassed and repentant, that we didn’t have the foresight and sense to contact and arrange to catch up with Debs Midwinter while we were in the locale, sorry Debs!
The hotel was a great find, another one of Lee-Anne’s online bargains. The Crest is just outside China Town, and a short walk to Darling harbour. We settled in to our apartment, then strolled out and had a quiet pint in a local faux Irish pub. I actually like Sydney. A big cities go it’s not bad, not threatening, not in the areas we stay at, plenty of world class things to see and do there, and a wonderful seaside atmosphere. I couldn’t live there, it would drive me potty, but it’s a nice place to have easy weekend access to.
The next day we got rigged up again, and took a bus to the ground. I was heartened to see that I wasn’t the only person dressed like a Welsh loony, there were thousands of us. I was wolf whistled at by some very drunk young ladies at one point. We had great seats right on the centre line, and far back enough to have a great view. In the seats behind us were another couple dressed in Welsh loony gear; “Where you from Butt?” he asked me, “Llanelli, a long time back though”, I replied. “Oh, she’s from Llanelli!” he pointed at the woman sat next to him. I told her I was from Bryn Road, and she replied that she was from Coronation Road, and we shared a few Llanelli reminisces , but found we didn’t really know anyone in common. The bloody thing was that she had the broadest Yank accent I have ever heard, I couldn’t help think she was taking the piss.
That night we had a private party, Lee-Anne doing her damndest to cheer me up. The next day, I had a sodding hangover and a half. Watching Wales lose can do that to a man. We strolled down to Darling Harbour to have breakfast, we found a nice cafe, and had some grub. Lee-Anne asked; “When does our bus leave?” I checked the itinerary; “Two hours ago.” We’d been looking at the arrival time, thinking it was the departure time. Bugger.
We phoned up the bus company and got seats on a later coach. We got back to Canberra coach station, later than expected, and took a bus home. Bethy had kept the house neat and orderly, and the old blind dog looked alive(ish). Bethy informed us; “I’ve been doing all the cooking right, so I insisted that Reece cook one meal. We agreed it should be the one after my basketball match, so I could take a bath.” Sensible. “Do you want to know what he cooked? He phoned in two bloody pizzas!” Me and Reece high-fived, much to Bethy’s disgust.
Neat segue here; talking about Bethy and basketball, she had a phone call from Sam, her team coach the other night, it went thus;
Sam;“Hi Bethy, do you fancy playing for our team tomorrow night?”
Bethy;“We don’t have matches during college breaks?” Sam;“No, I mean for our team, the team I play for.”
Luckily the match was held on a day when I was working a day shift, so I could go and letch, sorry, watch. They got stuffed, losing 57 – 42. Very physical game, very different to her normal match, fast too. Bethy got laid on her arse more than once, but got stuck back in. I just wish I could teach her to use controlled anger to get more fired up. But Bethy acquitted herself well, so well in fact, that after the team post-match debrief, the coach, Bethy’s coach’s coach, approached her and said; “Thanks for coming and helping us out of a tough spot. Expect a phone call again next week.”
Also worth mentioning is that at the end of last season Bethy was made captain of her under 19 side.
This is from a weekly team report;
Two players stood out for me this week; Maddie and Beth. Maddie because her offensive game has improved so much. Maddie always works hard in defence and this week was no exception. What she added this week were some great baskets including three from four at the free throw line. Beth always works hard under the basket, but this week I think she showed a lot more composure and continued to improve throughout the game. When we needed rebounds and effort, Beth was always there.
Bethy's whirlwind social life, and seemingly never ending rounds of 18th. Birthday parties continues. The last one she went to was a fancy dress do. Luckily Bethy being Bethy, didn't choose to go, as many of her peers would have, as a "sexy nurse", "pole dancer", or a "dominatrix", she went as "Esmaralda" All the more stunning she looked for it too.
I’ve really go into baking of late, it’s never been my forte, and what with having Lee-Anne the queen of baking at home, it’s no wonder I’ve never really bothered. But then Lee-Anne found a recipe for pasty pastry, so, as you can imagine, I’ve been knocking them out by the dozen.
Subsequent to this I’ve also started making Bara Brith and Welsh cakes, (there’s that old nostalgia/hireath kicking in again.) Well, actually, I’ve only made one batch, but bloody nice they were too. I wanted to make them the traditional way, on a cast iron bakestone, insisted upon it in fact. Until I realised that they ain’t exactly common in Aus. I spent a fruitless (bad pun) day going around all the homeware shops in Canberra, or at least those at the local mall, but was shit out of luck. I tried online, I found some too, but you can probably guess that the postage for a cast iron bakestone between Wales and Aus, isn’t going to be cheap. As in, "take out another mortgage".
But I was determined to do them right, and besides, I’d promised the girls in work I’d make them. Driving home dejected from the mall, I had a brainwave. I dropped into our local DIY store, and there bought a replacement cast iron plate for a BBQ top! Ha, on the reverse it was as flat as a proverbial, and ideal for doing Welsh cakes. Ok, now I have to season it. This involves soaking it in oil and putting it in the oven at 180 degrees for four hours. Or at least it would’ve if it hadn’t been too bloody big to go in the oven. I just coated it with oil and whacked it on the stove top burners going full blast, until the whole house was full of smoke, and Lee-Anne started hitting me. That worked. Sort of. So now we’ve the capacity to make unlimited Welsh cakes, and I’m sure one day soon I’ll get around to doing more of them. Sometime.
6.00 am one morning last week I was, as ever, blundering about the gym, in the vain hope of losing weight/getting fit, while Lee-Anne exercised.
The “pretty but dim” gym bunny approached me, and said; “Taff, would you mind wearing training shoes from now on when you come in in the mornings?” No, I wasn’t barefooted, I was wearing my hiking sandals.
The following exchange happened;
Me:“Why?" PBDGB;”Well it’s the rules.” Me;“What rules? PBDGB;“The footwear rules, you have to wear gym shoes or runners here.” Me;“But I’ve been wearing these here for two years or more.” PBDGB;“Yes, but I’ve only just noticed.” Me; (biting tongue,) “But what difference does it make?” PBDGB;“Well if you dropped a weight on your foot you could be seriously injured.” Me;“So could you?” PBDGB; “But I’ve got running shoes on.” Me; “Which give you even less protection than these do me.” PBDGB;“But it’s the rules.”
Seeing I was on a loser here, (never argue with an idiot, they'll drag you down to their level, and beat you with experience,) I agreed to wear training shoes from now on in.
As I do not yet have any, I’ve been wearing my hiking boots instead, or “taking the piss” as it’s better known, I was thinking of wearing my motorbike boots..
I was wearing these;
She was wearing these;
Oh, remember that crash I had just over a year back? I hadn't heard anything from my solicitor for a while, so I emailed him, he invited me over to his office. We chatted bout how things had dragged on, and then he found out that the insurance firm has been trying to deny responsibility. Seeing as I had four witnesses and the Taxi driver admitted to the cops that it was his fault, they haven't a leg to stand on. So we're getting a barrister in on the case. The solicitor thinks we should be good for between $12 K and $18 K with his help. So that's a new motorbike, a new camera, and a trip to the UK sorted.
Barney is still going, just in case you were wondering, costing us a mint in pills, but he's worth it.
In the weeks leading up to Xmas, Bethy’s basketball association was holding a quiz night and auction to raise funds for sending some star players to the States to train. Fortunately I had that evening off, and so we had a group. There was me, Lee-Anne, Bethy, Glenn, and Phil, Glenn’s mate, to go along. Getting there was a bloody nightmare, as our GPS just flat out refused to believe the venue existed, and insisted on sending us to the Manuka cricket ground instead.
Ok, so a charity quiz and an auction, what could go wrong?
Well for a start I’d taken along a litre and a half bottle of wine for us all to share. Except Bethy is too young to drink, Lee-Anne was driving and neither Phil nor Glenn likes wine. (You can see where this is going now, can’t you?)
It all started rather swimmingly, with general knowledge questions, which I was actually of some help with. Then the auction started.
We put in some silly offers for “blind” items (you only found out what it was if you won it.) We got a $50 wine voucher for $20, and a very nice “Suzuki” T-shirt for another $20, Bethy got a nice necklace for a few bob, so we were doing well. Then they did an open auction. We didn’t bid for many things, and even when we did we were outbid. Then they auctioned a week’s accommodation in a holiday home at the coast. The starting price was $500, and no one bid, the tight gits. Lee-Anne looked at me and said; “Go one, get them started, it’s bound to go up.” So I stuck my hand up. “$500 bid here! Going once! Going twice! Sold! Sold to the surprised drunk looking man, who’s just fallen off his chair.” I didn’t try to run away.
Well that happened in December 2010, and, believe it or not, next month, first week in August 2012, we've actually got our act together enough to organise ourselves down and use our week at the coast here. A winter break, we haven't had one since last month, we're deprived I tell you! We're hoping for some real foul winter weather, storms by the sea here are fantastic. Just me and Lee-Anne going down as Bethy has college. She'll be staying with her dad, and the dogs will be with the mother in law. A good week at the coast, doing lots of sod all for us, nice.
The world famous author Patrick Gale is coming to Canberra in September, we're definitely going to go see him, not only because he's a brilliant writer, but also be cause he's the husband of my good mate Aidan. So hopefully we'll get to learn a bit more about his writings and inspiration, and also get all the gossip from the farm back at Trevilley.
Ok, here's my latest tune. Inspired by "Fearless," by VNV Nation, it is, as with most of my stuff, as of yet unfinished. Also, unlike "Fearless" it has no vocals, those of you who have heard me sing will be very glad to hear that.I have to say I'm rather pleased with it so far. But I am dropping work on it now as I want to get back to creating the "Dartmoor Ambient" CD.
Follow