Y Gogledd: The Rise of the Cymry - or Just Pub Talk?

Celt & Saxon Kingdoms circa 500AD?

Sterling news! Some of the Hurley Clan have marched north to reclaim the Celtic Kingdom of Rheged from the Saxons and Danes who took it via intermarriage and stealth, even after it passed to the Welsh Kingdom of Strathclyde (from whence William Wallace - Wallace meaning "Welsh" - came to deliver freedom to the Welsh, Scots and Picts of Scotland).

They followed two pathfinders (codename Uncle Pat and Auntie Mary) who were brave enough to travel north into the icy wastes of what, incredibly, is today part of England!

Yes! The Welsh are marching to free the Cymry 'Men of the North' and I have reports back from an elderly man (codename Old Pa Hurley) that he has indeed discovered evidence of ancient Welsh culture "up North."

A pub serving Brains Beer* no less, has been confirmed back to base by two elderly men (let's call them Agent Joe and Agent Pat), reported to be "grinning widely" and with a strange gait in their movement.

At this stage, further reports of them painting half their faces blue and shouting "FREEEEEDOM!" whilst kicking a rugby ball up the high street, have yet to be confirmed.

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*I am still looking for sponsorship!

Catholicism, Cats, Llywellyn's Moggies and Heaven

I read somewhere that many Catholic bloggers are meant to love cats. I would happily count myself in that number, notwithstanding our new pet, Patch the crossbreed Jack Russell and Lakeland Terrier.

So, in order that the Catholic bloggers who do look in from time to time, here's something to keep you happy, even though it is a bit cheeky - Welsh being one of the oldest European languages etc. etc.

If Latin is the official language of Heaven, then surely the angels must converse in Welsh on their dress-down Fridays.

Oggy oggy oggy: an old Welsh poem written by the bards - originally "moggy, moggy, moggy" - about Llywellyn Ap Gruffydd's three pet cats.

You Gotta Feel Sorry for Fiji - And the Green Duck

Patch has been settling in well to his new family this week.

Being a rescue dog he was very nervous at first, though always well behaved, this did lead to a few little "accidents" especially when left alone at night.

Like a Wales V Fiji game - no competition

Funniest moment of the week was when Patch "coupied" down to 'squeeze one out' only for someone to come along and see him, shout "no" and take him out into the garden quickly. Just a little nugget of poop was left on the kitchen lino. Hearing the commotion one of the children came hurtling through the kitchen door (eager not to miss out on the "fun") excitedly asking "where's the poop?" just as he trod in it! Not so much egg on his face as pooh on his shoe.

Gradually though, with patience and love we've got him doing his ablutions when out. Yesterday we gave him a bath in the garden and now he's coming out of his shell a bit more.

We took him out yesterday to a car boot (where I picked up a really beautiful 1950s Daily Missal in superb condition for £1.50, and some equally great condition 60s Ladybird books for 5p each).

On the way home we stopped off at a pet shop to get some doggy shampoo, and we tried various treats and toys to see what Patch liked.

On the treats he wasn't bothered. Doggy chocs, biscuits, bones and all manner of fun treats. We thought he was going to be the same with the toys. We tried rubber balls, fake sausages, all sorts of bright, noisy, bouncy and squeaky things. No interest from Patch Hurley.

Then we flung a large green and yellow duck to him and the rest, as they say, is history.

In for the kill - it's Sixty Six, Nil!

Now he plays with it, runs about with it. Even though it is almost a third the size of him! It looks quite comical.

Even this morning as I sat thoroughly enjoying the Welsh team putting on a bulldozer of a performance against a Fijian team known for its physicality (66-0!), Patch sat biting his big green duck.

Come on Wales! Sorry Fiji. Come on Patch! Sorry duck.

Welcome to our new Family Member: Patch Hurley

Patch Hurley

This is Patch, our new family pet.

He is from a rescue kennel and is 18 months old.

So far he is fitting in really well (if a bit excited by the chickens).

He is well behaved, not at all noisy and we can't believe how lucky we are to get him.

He is a Jack Russell cross breed, we're not sure with what, but another Terrier of some sort we think.

He was so well behaved on the drive home and we've taken him for a couple of walks already.

Yes, it's all very exciting in the Hurley home.

It's Bilbo Baggins Day - Hello to all Hobbits

A very Happy Birthday to Bilbo and Frodo Baggins.

Especially for a hairy footed Welshman who betrayed everything and moved to... London. Home of Saruman & Co.

I went on a long adventure, there and back again, and now I'm home, in The Shire with the other halflings.

Oh Hobbits in the foul, unfolksy places of the world, don't give in to Saruman and his McRubbish. Drink Brains Beer* and eat Clark's Pies* (except on Fridays). Defend civilisation!


*I am always open to sponsorship.
  

Link
Clark's Pies - Lembas Bread in all But Name

Four Paws Animal Rescue: A Very Bad Experience

A sad and perplexing tale this week.

On Sunday (18th September) we went to a dog show and purposefully went to the stalls for dogs homes as we had decided for some time that we would try for a dog to be rehomed.

After gathering information from the Dogs Trust we went over to the Four Paws Animal Rescue stall. Being "novices" at housing a rescue dog we were intent on gathering literature. On getting talking to one of the volunteers, she called over to a young lady who brought two dogs over.

Our youngest immediately fell in love with one of them called Cooper and asked if we could "get it now." Both we and the people on the stall said 'no - that's not how it works' that there would have to be forms filled-in and a home check etc.

So we told them that we were very keen on Cooper and would be going home to fill in the form that very day. It was then that the young lady in charge of the dogs, having seen how keen we were, said 'fill out the form with your number and as soon as I get it I'll give you a call.' She said that she was in charge of the two puppies and would be handling the case.

So whilst we knew it wouldn't be a shoe-in, we knew we would be in with a fair chance, especially when we told them that we would not leave the dog unattended at any time during the day. We had been promised an immediate phone call and so felt assured of fair treatment and the high possibility of homing Cooper.

We went home full of joy. The little one looked online and got pictures of Cooper and the older siblings were duly informed. There was a buzz of excitement.

Monday afternoon and she paced the floor ready for the promised call... nothing. Then I phoned and was told there were a lot of enquiries for the puppies (Cooper and his brother) and to be patient.

OK, I thought, they promised to phone and then there will be the home check etc. - no problem. Perhaps we would be contacted later in the week (I asked this whilst on the phone and was told - yes, within a few days) and then the various people would get home visits etc...

The next day (Tuesday) we received a standardised email stating that Cooper had already been rehomed. A kind of 'thanks but no thanks' impersonal round robin.

Now I understand how the world works and you have to be patient, but try telling that to a young one who had been promised at least a decent possibility of being in with a chance, was promised a personal call immediately on our details going in, and a home check.

We received none of these, and I had to say as the "grown up" comforting a crying child who had hoped for the best, to be ignored after we were promised at least a fighting chance and a personal contact from the young lady immediately in charge of the two puppies, we felt very let down by Four Paws Animal Rescue.

Forum post announcing Cooper's arrival Sept 19th

I felt that the decision had been made on the hoof, with no apparent fairness. When I phoned to ascertain what had gone on I was told the puppies had been available "for weeks" and so there were many people involved, yet the forum on their site announced them as available from the 18th September - the morning of which we saw them! (see screen shots).

I do not expect anyone to get preferential treatment, just a fair crack of the whip. And as people with all the right conditions (enclosed garden, someone always home, able to walk the dog daily, living near a beach and large parks etc. etc.) you would think we would at least get the courtesy of a call or a visit.

I am not suggesting something dodgy went on, that a friend of a friend turned up later that Sunday the 18th, or phone up on the Monday when the images were put online on their forum (the 19th) nor even that the person on their contact line lied when she said Cooper had been with them for fostering "for many weeks" when it says on their forum that Cooper had been with them for fostering since Sunday the 18th of September (the day we saw him).

But what I am saying is that to promise to phone, and plan a home call etc. etc. and then announce on the Tuesday that the dog has already been homed smacks of favouritism and/or of ignoring "normal" customers.

There was something not right in the way this was handled, with friendliness and promises of a call and "personal handling" of the case on the Sunday, to ignorance, non-contact and then a standardised email saying the dog had already been homed 48 hours later on the Tuesday.

It has left us with a very bad experience of Four Paws Animal Rescue.

Don't You Love That Personal Touch?

The email sent to me

When you get an email from a business, you tend to know that you are one of many thousands receiving it.

The same is true of mail shots, pop-up windows etc. etc.

The addition of your name may make the immature or gullible feel that they are being specially targeted for the special offer or services being promoted.

But the truth is a million miles away.

How refreshing therefore that Thomson Local sent me an email that deviated from the norm.

Just call me [Firstname] Hurley!

Happy Birthday Uncle Maynard - Darn Tootin'

Back in the day... touring his land

Very important birthday in the family this week... yes, of course today is Maynard's birthday! I wondered if he can get 92 candles on a cake, moreover how can he blow them out in one go? No jokes about being a blowhard, or being full of hot air.

Having the right to bear arms means means being able to blast those bad boy candles, not wearing a sleeveless dress.

But serously, sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, cussing at passers by and carressing a blunderbuss is no way for a nonagenrian to pass the time, especially in a gravy-stained Dukes of Hazzard shirt. And getting your chewing tobaccy-stained inky shots of spittle in the spittoon just once, would be a Godsend for all concerned.

So happy birthday you old varmint! I know, you're "one day younger than me." Here's to another, and a year of non-pc behaviour and speaking your mind to all and sundry (not to mention offending liberals) in the meantime.

Billy Connolly the Cannibal Tours America?

I turned to our youngest and said "That looks good, Billy Connolly's new series is about travelling across America."

She asked "what does he do?" (I don't think the question was meant in a metaphysical or existentialist way).

"Oh," says I, "he meets people."

Perhaps it was the shock of just watching Wales lose their first match in the rugby World Cup, to South Africa by a single point, but her startled reply was "He eats people?"

Kzzzpf.

Now, I know he swears a lot and I think he has dabbled with Buddhism and he has turned his back on Catholicism.... but I don't think he's quite that bad! Is he?

Dolphins Are Gay Sharks

Political Correctness is alive and well.

When I saw the t-shirt DOLPHINS ARE GAY SHARKS for sale I just had to buy it, in preparation for our visit to a U.S. themed water park.

Lo! verily I doth hand over the readies (shock!) and purchase said shirt, then I wore it to the animal-containing water park.

Cue lots of shocked faces from liberals and the easily offended. Cue lots of grins, thumbs up and comments - specifically "great/cool shirt" - from those who haven't had a sense of humour by-pass.

The staff at said water park seemed especially pleased by the shirt. Strangely enough African-Americans seemed to like it most. Is that cultural? I don't know.

Just an after thought. On seeing a show of performing animals, we were treated to a fanfare of salutes to American servicemen who, we were told, were delivering freedom around the world, then lots of saccharine footage and music to inform us we live in "one world" etc. whilst imprisoned animals performed stunts for food as tourists looked on sipping Coca-Cola.

Hmmmm. Lots of socio-political un-pc thoughts crossed my mind as those two facts clashed in my sun-dazzled brain. Luckily I could just look down at my 'gay dolphins' shirt, smile and plan the next roller-coaster to go on.

Cardiff City Fan Mikey Dye RIP - No Football Rivalry

I'm so glad to hear that the Cardiff City fan, Mikey Dye, who tragically died at the England V Wales match on Tuesday was not murdered as the result of a Swansea-Cardiff rivalry. It seems some UK tabloids were too quick to jump the gun and suggest that is what happened. In all honesty I feared the worst too.


I enjoy football and have supported Cardiff since I was knee high to a grasshopper, I think I was 10 years old when I first went to see them play Leyton Orient, and I think that must have been in the old Division Four! Ah those halcyon days in the limelight.


I also have friends who are Swansea fans and we have good fun ribbing each other, winding each other up and delighting in each other's misfortunes. But there are, sadly, too many people who cross the line and for whom this rivalry boils over into terrible and merciless violence, at the drop of a hat.


The death of anyone is always a tragedy for the family involved, but I am relieved that it appears there was no Cardiff-Swansea violence at its core. It will be interesting to find out just what did happen, but in the meantime let's all take a moment to say a prayer for the repose of the soul of Mikey Dye.

None of us knows when our moment will come and its an awful (in its real sense) thought that at the drop of a hat we'll have to meet our Maker. At least being a Cardiff City fan must buy you some time off purgatory - we seem to have suffered enough in this veil of tears.

The Damage Caused - not by Hurricane Irene

Currently in the US of A, watching the advent of Hurricane Irene towards Wall Street (seems apt somehow). Yesterday we passed a huge auction house which had a couple of football (that's "soccer") fields worth of JCBs and general assorted diggers, cranes and other large industrial vehicles. It looked like a retirement home for transformers.

It's clear that the US economy is still suffering. One "shopping mall" we visited, which was beautiful (well, moreso than any other I've been in) with its own internal and external lake, had just 3 shops left in it. It was like walking through a really well upkept post-apocalyptic scenario (with air conditioning). We didn't spot too many zombies though -- apart from the "missing you already" type ;-)

Why are Stewards Just So Very Camp?

Yesterday we embarked on our Summer sojourn. It's our first overseas holiday, in fact our first real family holiday, for 5 years so we've all been very excited. With a morning flight we had to set off in the dead of night, and no matter how much we tried there was so much palpable excitement, there was very little sleep to be had.

In a podcast I listened to recently a teacher had explained purgatory to young children as an endless wait in a pretty dire airport. After a morning sat in an uncomfy chair with my head nodding, weedling away the hours prior to take-off I have to say as trite as the comparison may sound, I am now inclined to agree.

Best part of the day so far (I wrote this towards the end of the flight)? How about one of the, ahem, "sing song" stewards mincing down the aisle while singing "sisters are doing it for themselves." I kid you not. I swapped a knowing-look with the eldest child and we sniggered in union.

Time for Some Robust Quantitative Redacting?

Smoke and Mirrors from a Grubby Banker

If history is to judge recent crises it could well be via the "buzz-words" they spat out.

Those of you who have read or seen The Wizard of Oz may not know that the book is in fact a kind of treatise on money in America in the early 20th Century, the yellow brick road being the 'Gold Standard' and the Wizard of Oz himself a top banker - a grubby little man using smoke and mirrors to keep us (munchkins) in fear of his might.

Well, if one inspects the recent national crises you can find specific buzz-words which, I believe, are chosen to try and frighten the meek, gullible or easy-going into silence. A kind of "let the experts deal with that" outlook, which can be particularly tempting when most of us have our time taken up worrying about earning enough money to pay the bills.

Now for the fun part. Here are the buzz-words that stick out for me. I'd love to hear of others, if you have examples, old or new, from the UK or overseas.

• MPs' Expenses Scandal: REDACTED.
• Banking Crisis:  QUANTITATIVE EASING.
• Riots in England: ROBUST (policing/sentencing).

I'd love to hear your examples. Off the top of my head I couldn't think of one for the Murdoch-media phone-hacking scandal.... but there must be an example surely?

Stand Aside! Hero Coming Through (Hair Caught in Crash Helmet - Again)

Sometimes, if you are like me, you find yourself in a situation where you think "oh if only..." Nothing major. I don't mean when you see some lottery winners on TV ("what should it gain a man to own the whole world and lose his soul" etc. etc. - I paraphrase) or that kid from school who went on to work for NASA, travel the world and invent the ipod.

No, as is usual in my life and in my deranged warblings, I am referring to something far more mundane and run-of-the-mill.

Just the other day I found myself in the sunshine and showers of a Saturday morning Welsh car boot. Funnily enough it was in the shadow of the hospital where I had my 'big op' last year, so the air smelt even sweeter.

And there it was! A perfect replica of a Red Arrows jumpsuit, with all the official patches and paraphernalia. In perfect nick, no cuts or tears, no faded bits, no patched-up sections. It was sublime in its purity and outstanding in its heroic qualities -- I would say "like me" but I don't want to be responsible for any casualties as the result of uncontrollable guffawing (now there's a word we don't use often enough outside of the pages of The Beano circa 1977).

Oh the visions of grandeur! Strutting down the street in my Red Arrows jumpsuit, suitable head attire firmly in place, the adulation of the crowds (?) the polite applause of the neighbours as I head off to, well, not exactly save the world - but perhaps to perform some excellent stunts at an air show. Oh Bravo!

The only problem is that if I had done that with this jumpsuit it would have to be via the Mad Professor off of Back to the Future because, as I could tell from its size through my tear-filled eyes, it was clearly made for someone circa 6 years old.

Even so I daydreamed. Yes. There was six-year-old Gareth Hurley in his Red Arrows jumpsuit off to be heroic, Evel Knievel tucked under his arm, pockets bulging with toy soldiers and matchbox cars. Perched on my head would have to be that plastic, white police crash helmet I had with the pull-down visor (the one that you always caught your hair in when you took it off, but you had to put it back on again eventually as it looked just so cool! To a six-year-old anyway).


And there I was, a grown man, holding the hand of my youngest, looking on with trembling lip at a vision of pristine beauty and sheer heroism - albeit produced for a wee nipper.

I brushed away a manly tear, put my best foot forward and continued on my way with ne'er a look back (see! I can be brave too), lest I, like Lot's wife, be transformed into a pillar of salt.

So there you are dear reader. A story of nostalgia, upset, stoicism and bravery all piled into one glorious yet sad moment.


Can life get any more exciting? No I haven't invented the ipod, but the thought of those pockets bulging with matchbox cars en route to their next big adventure circa 1977 reminds me that I have lived a happy life - even if I was denied a Red Arrows jumpsuit.