I should preface this by saying, hopefully without controversial impact, that I don’t believe in God. Not even a god. But when I was sat in a queue of traffic behind a bus this afternoon, I read the sign on the back which read “If there was a God, what would you say to him?”.

Which took me back to dealing with the late days of my parents - no, don’t worry, I’m not getting mawkish today - after Wendy and I would have rushed around for a day or a weekend sorting out their everyday problems like pills, food, shopping and visits to Windsor Castle, Virginia Water or Hampton Court Palace, pushing wheelchairs and navigating stroppy moods.

At the end of our time with them, one or both would say to us “thanks for everything”. And I would customarily reply, with a grin, “I’m particularly proud of trees”.

If there was a God,  I can only imagine the conversation would go exactly like that. Joyce Kilmer (1886–1918), wrote

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

And you can quite see what she meant. Trees surround us and if I don’t see a tree in a day then I know I’ve missed something. My favourite childhood memories are of walking by the Thames, with the Weeping Willows dangling into the water, pulled hither and thither by the currents swirling around by the river bank.

Then, a walk through Laleham Park, with mighty Oaks, Cedars, Beeches and Elms (alas now killed off by Dutch Elm disease in the 1980’s).

And there is nothing that I love to see more than a sunset over water with a good tree highlighted and reflected to give a thrill and jump to my heart.

Yup. I’d hope that any God worth his salt, is particularly proud of trees.

We managed finally to get to the national Botanical Gardens of Wales the other day, just as the weather was turning from glorious sunshine to ‘orrible rain, which it’s still doing now, days later..

We had a brilliant time and I want to go back whenever possible.

But then again, at the moment we live 5 minutes walk from Singleton Botanical Gardens, a scene of real beauty  this wee, largely because of the dahlias. Here’s a shot of the heart of one…

There are times I love having a half-decent camera and a steady hand.

Toward the end of the week, Wendy’s birthday brought us the opportunity to buy the house we’ve been looking at for some months now as we were able to negotiate a mutually agreeable (low) price. I think the builders who owned it, having part-exchanged it for one of their new homes, suddenly woke up to having an asset of shrinking value on their books. We hope to complete on Oct 31st and move in, in the ensuing month. More of this in later blogs.

Having listed the Clio on ebay to sell for spares or repair twice now, I’m getting very frustrated with wankers who decide to bid and then don’t show up. Second chance offers seem to be taken with a pinch of salt by the other bidders, whilst the current “winning bidder” doesn’t seem to exist, his phone no. doesn’t get us anywhere (”wrong number”, they say, and hang up) and the arse doesn’t answer email either. Tosser. I now need to try AGAIN to get rid of this car that has cost us £4k over the last few years (including purchase) - all I want is £200. Is that too much to ask?

The banking crisis has, I’m afraid, left me cold. The banks fucked THEMSELVES by giving 120% loans to people they KNEW could not afford them and then, hey presto, they look to GOVERNMENT to bail them out when it all goes tits up. Fuck ‘em. Guarantee private deposits but don’t buy the so-called “toxic debt” from them. The’ve made their shit sandwich, now they have to eat i. I have no sympathy at all.

Finally, Harry (my father-in-law),is in his last couple of weeks with us. Throughout the year he has slowly deteriorated, whilst staying with us or Wendy’s brother Peter and his wife, Sue. We can no longer remain suspended in aspic whilst running around looking after him and, although it may be seen as cruel by some, he has to go into a residential home in order that we can have our lives back. He will get the best of care, but from people who aren’t emotionally involved with him and can deal with his problems without getting upset. In the meantime, we get our lives back. Like I say, cruel, but undoubtedly for the best, all around. Really. At least that’s what we keep on saying to ourselves and each other. And him.

The weather has changed dramatically in the last few days. Suddenly it is no longer raining torrentially. The sun has been shining and my forehead is sunburnt from wandering around unprotected.

And the Swansea sunset is once again, superb.

Rick was, it seems, a gentle soul. Abused and sacked by Roger Waters in 1979 from the band he co-founded, during the recording of “The Wall”, he was brought back as a full member (ie profit sharing) only at The Division Bell. As a paid session musician for most of the intervening years, however, he actually made money whereas the others lost out because of the immense costs of their album recordings and tours.

His contribution to the band was immense and, although Pink Floyd are no more, I’m sure all fans of that great band will mourn for him, as indeed do I.

I guess every generation must go through the litany of the deaths of their ‘heroes’, the next few years are going to be very painful.

+ Richard Wright Born 28 July 1943; died 15 September 2008  +

The sudden death of Ken Campbell at 66 crept under the wire for me, I didn’t know of his death on Sunday until I caught a bit of his Edinburgh fringe act on the tv, with the tagline of “the late, great, Ken Campbell”.

Ken was one of those performers and people whose skills knew no boundaries. I became a fan when he popped up on Channel 4’s “Reality On The Rocks” in 1995. In it, he attempted to understand the nature of the universe, discussing this with luminaries such as Stephen Hawking and Roger Penrose, telling Hawking that he couldn’t get past page 21 in “A Brief History Of Time” - pretty much like the rest of the population!

After that I saw him doing (relatively straight) comedy, acting, improvising and entertaining his audiences in a unique blend of intellect and an innate understanding of what “funny” means. Contrast his 32-hour-long “Improvathon” with being turned down as the seventh Doctor Who because his Doctor would be “too dark” (Sylvester McCoy got the role, having been a protegé of Ken’s). He even held a Professorship in ventriloquism at RADA at one point! Many knew him through his role as Alf Garnett’s neighbour in “In Sickness And In Health”, but he appeared in many programmes over the years, both in comedic and straight roles. The breadth of his work is amazing - see his Wikipedia entry. It turns out that I was laughing at him as “Poodoo” in the radio version of HHGTTG in the 1970’s without his name registering.

He was a writer, director, monologist and a genius. He sold art made from his parrot’s droppings. He had a truly massive pair of eyebrows. One of a kind, I fear we will not see his like again.

Thanks Ken.

+ Ken Campbell, born December 10 1941; died August 31 2008 +

Despite many objections, the London 2012 logo remains a disturbing depiction of Lisa Simpson giving a blow job.

Well, we’ve hit September and the rain is still teeming down, albeit I was able to get out for a bike ride this morning in a brief non-Jupiter Pluvius moment.

That was the wettest August in my lifetime. Thanks, but can we have some SUN now? Please.

All the kids will be back at school soon, all the students have started turning up for Uni. The September song of the hive, buzzing around constantly, has started and won’t end until Christmas hits us.

I’m hoping we’ll have bought a house and be in by then, fingers crossed.

I’ve decided to write something thoroughly disagreeable, but as is my wont, I have no idea what this will be until it escapes to the keyboard through my fingertips.

I hate my 2-finger typing.  But it’s better than my writing. Oh well.

Anyway. Something  thoroughly disagreeable,let’s see. How about “Apple Macs are over priced and so are the applications that run on them”? Wait, I think that’s a popular opinion, so no thoroughly disagreeable comment there then.

How about “too many people are kept alive by our remarkable medical system, but have no quality of life and are merely miserable, providing income to a series of money-grabbing opportunists who run residential & nursing homes”? Shit, not too many people disagree with that, either.

“No-one likes an Estate  Agent”? Bum, there I go again.

Here’s one: The Olympics aren’t worth US$40 BILLION. To anyone.  Spend the money on healthcare, a cure for cancer or even building transport infrastructure in Africa! Let’s have a minimal Olympics in London and bollocks to all those who want an even bigger and more expensive affair than that concluding in Bejing today.

What do you mean, that’s not thoroughly disagreeable?

People who get drunk and have casual sex all over the place shouldn’t be surprised if they get diseases?

Children are over-protected and we should relax and let them be kids, play outside and have fun. Even if some if them get injured or even die?

I know. The Daily Mail. Ah yes. now that IS thoroughly disagreeable. Every time my Father-in-law picks up his copy, he reads of death, destruction and the mongrelisation of the British race. I can hardly read a page of it without throwing it down again in disgust.

Read this question, come up with an answer and then scroll down to the bottom for the result. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads. No one I know has got it right. So far.

A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met a guy whom she didn’t know. She thought this guy was amazing. She believed him to be her dream guy so much, that she fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.

Question: What is her motive for killing her sister?

Give this some thought before you answer, seriously! Then click on “Read The Rest Of This Entry” below.

Read the rest of this entry »