Friday, Weekend grieving and Monday morning.
Some of you may have gathered that sometime around 2 in the afternoon on Friday my meticulous plans for global domination were somewhat derailed. Was it the infamous reds under the beds, the neo-fascists, some wild haired fundamentalist? No. In actual fact it was far more mundane and as such noticeably more potent. Her Welshensses grandfather had been taken into hospital earlier in the week and had expired sometime on the Thursday afternoon - systemic organ failure. So all in all a fairly rapid decline with little in the way of suffering from what I have managed to discover.
HW was never particularly close to this relative and I have to say on the occasions I met him the nicest thing I could think of was that he was a man of his times. He was one of the Bevan boys who after having half killed themselves in mines around the country to feed the UK’s industry were looked at in a less than flattering light by many. Yet when you look at the conditions endured you really do have to think that maybe, just maybe, leaping onto a beach in Normandy may not have been the worst option. After that background you could say the man was rather, shall we say, hardened. He made his son take at a loan with him to buy his way out of the army at well above base rate interest after he had served in Ireland.
So how did this derail my master plans, well Pinky let me explain as only the best in criminal genii can. This Saturday I was going to be heading up to a small pub not too distant from Centre Point in London. From there, and after meeting up with several known associates we would finally put together our plan for domination. Having carefully selected and groomed key personnel from around the UK into attending what is colloquially known as a LARP game. Which was in actual fact part of a cunning mind control experiment whose primary results had shown successful - indeed in an early model of the test one candidate proffered all 4 digits of their PIN number to their credit card and then proudly informed us that they correct order was alphabetical so it didn’t matter (okay not strictly the truth but pretty close to it). Anyway, after gaining control of these iconic individuals who would lead the global coup and thus become the prime targets of the counter-revolutionary status quo entrenched forces. We would be going beyond the mono-dimensional argument of Trot and Tanky, leaping the gaping nano-hole between New Labour and Conservative and indeed wholly ignoring 2000+ years of political thought with the simplest of premises. The argument, liberated from Dr. Leary was a simple one, “Shut the F!!!K up arseholes, I have a gun and do what you’re f!!!king told”.
So instead of that, once more my master plans are put aside, as I will in all certainty be carrying a coffin somewhere down on the Gower peninsula. An event that if it were not vaguely sombre will to external observers appear rather humorous. The problem being of course that I’m around 6 foot in height, the next highest co-lifter is well, about 6 inches shorter than me and the others will, indeed in all certainty get smaller. So we have 4 men carrying a coffin, with radically different gaits and heights. This thing is going to look like a class 22 testing out it’s stabilisers in calm conditions.
So that was Friday blown out of the water really. The nicest part of the day was meeting up with my father, an old associate from the North and HW as we went out for a meal and booze in London. The stuffed cabbages were really nice. Saturday on the whole started pretty badly and went downhill. The decision by certain educationalist in the UK to teach ID in science classes. It’s a really simple argument for anyone confused over this debate. ID has no place in rational science, teach it with the rest of the bollocks and urban myth in RE or Sociology or some other woolly thinking arts course where you are asked to get in touch with your feelings. Do not however put in the place of or even alongside theory which has sections at least that are replicable time after time after time and hence have some backdrop in reality.
Then Wales managed an abysmal attempt at rugby drawing to Italy at Cardiff. For some reason I had to lock the sharp objects away at home. Sunday, well quite frankly I don’t want to talk about it. I watched as 15 men went out in the middle of Paris and decided, that well, years of professional training were going to be ignored. And I’d actually like to say the French played good rugby, but it was lacklustre. On the whole the entire Northern Hemisphere sides had better wake up because next year it’s World cup time again. To cap it all I was offered a Scottish passport by an old friend. I would like to point out here I have a passport, and it allows me access to Scotland anyway, and quite frankly….
Monday back at work, typing. Thinking of snoozing, and in the evening off to listen to some guy yatter about V for Vendetta.