March 6th 2018.

 

Yesterday was the Patron Saint of Cornwalls feast day, St Pyran. He is apparently the patron saint of tin miners of which, of course, there were many and for which Cornwall is famous. Amongst it’s astonishing and unforgiving landscapes and sometime beastly weather. The reason I mention this is Gwenno was live in session with Lauren Laverne yesterday singing songs from her new album which, is all in Cornish! Being brought up in a Cornish and Welsh speaking household, her first album was in Welsh with one Cornish song, her second, totally Cornish. Google her people, she’s carries a rather groovy beat.

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M was poorly on the walk today, with a headache, and so skipped coffee but left with strict instructions to see the doctor, tomorrow we shall see. C had to miss the walk due to unforeseen friend’s car troubles on the drive; as a result we were unable to impart any further job interview techniques, tricks of the trade,  as we stand like giants of the industries we inhabit. The walk was quicker due to Mrs N locking her self out of the house and having to station herself in the horse box to await rescue from the gallant Sir N (not the location of the large hadron collider).

Did I tell you I got to speak to the king of the village today who told me of how the blast furnace workers used to receive free beer when the worked the furnace, it also transpired the managers got the beer too, despite  sitting behind colourfully buttoned control desks with the window open and the cool breeze soothing their sweaty brows. “This happened when I worked for British Steel don’t you know?”  said the king. A bell should ring each time it is mentioned, like an angel getting their wings.

I spoke to another Openreach man today but only a fraction into my chat, kind of lost the will to live, made my excuses, mumbled and left him standing there in his harness. Thursday’s the day for my ISP to tell me the lines fucked and then notify Openreach, who will treat me like a new man once I have a job number….

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Tax office? Don’t even go there, 2 days and well over 2 hours of my precious time trying to bring our company into the 21st Century in what seems like a million little steps, feels a little like death by a thousand cuts or a water torture of some description. Frustrating isn’t the word and this particular occupational activity is probably left for when all cylinders of Froggers are firing and I don’t have to be reliant on a crappy phone signal. However I do have permission to use the Village Hall facilities.

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Think this looks like a massive foot from a creature Where the Wild Things Live? You are correct to think so. And I think this looks like kissing snow creatures, their last embrace.

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This was a closed road I navigated whilst munching some tangy toms on the way back from Leominster today, It doesn’t get much better than this ladies and gents!

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This is what I’m talking of; Happy St Pyran’s day belatedly.

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