Tinsel in the sunshine

Friday, December 27th, 2013

Cake before incision

And there it was, Christmas. Did you enjoy it? Did it meet all of your wild expectations? Did it do everything it said on the tin? Well, mine was enjoyably quiet, spent with Gareth's parents, who - surprisingly - didn't try to feed me one single cream cake. Pork pies, though, were a very different matter. I don't think I ever want to see another pork pie until, well... at least January 1st.
I am no particular fan of Christmas; I really do think that, unless you're a churchgoer and celebrate Christmas for its proper religious traditions, it's very much a time for children, or to be a child. If you're a parent or grandparent and can spend Christmas Day with a child, it must be magical. But otherwise, for your average adult, it's just a time to be with friends and family, drink and eat and be off work. And that'll do me.
The lead-in to Christmas is far better than the day itself, and certainly better than the aftermath. I prefer the expectation of Christmas Eve, when the presents are wrapped and under the tree and the excitement of the next day is yet to come.
And the worst day is Boxing Day, when the house is upside down and the last thing you feel like doing is tidying the house or washing or cleaning or hoovering or anything remotely approaching strenuous.

Tinsel in the sunshine. Yuk!

And what I hate most of all is tinsel in the sunshine. Christmas should be strictly a night-time thing, with colourful lights and candles and shiny decorations twinkling in the twilight. Tinsel in the winter sun just depresses me, for some reason.
It wasn't actually until today that we got round to breaking open the Christmas cake my mum had baked us. My mum's Christmas cakes are always delicious - and alcoholic - affairs, and this one was no exception. I can't eat too much rich food, so this time of year is particularly difficult with all of its mince pies and puddings, but my mum's cake is always light, and this year is laced with all manner of spirits, as well as boasting a rather lovely double layer of icing, with marzipan sandwiched between.
Next up, New Year. I much prefer New Year, it is a time to celebrate the good things of the previous twelve months and look forward and make plans for the next twelve. The year 2013 won't go down in my own personal timeline as a classic, but I can feel in my bones that 2014 is going to be a year of real change, for the better. January will bring a turning point in my life (the exact nature of which I look forward to discovering), and February has a massive and important event too, which I am looking forward to immensely.
And beyond that? Who knows... But I do know that it's going to be a good one.

Cake post-incision. Loving the double layer of icing

Photo-set: Happy (miniature) Christmas!

Thursday, December 19th, 2013

I visited my parents last week and they had this amazing festive diorama laid out on the front room sideboard which took my dad ages to set up. He sculpted the snowy base from polystyrene and painted it, then populated this winter wonderland with ornaments and models and buildings he'd bought from a shop.
It's one of those lovely alpine set-ups, complete with illuminated shops and even a "roaring" fire around which children sing carols and warm their hands while roasting chestnuts. It all looked amazing in the dark, the sort of place you wish you could be transported to for a proper, snowy, traditional Christmas (rather than the gale-force hell we tend to get in the UK).
I took a few pictures of the diorama and wished I could transform into a Borrower and explore it on foot. But while I might feel small much of the time, I'll never be small enough to properly take a look around my parents' winter wonderland.
Merry Christmas!

Here's the alpine wonderland in the cold light of day

My dad's Nativity, also designed himself. He's retired, he can do things like this...

My mum's startlingly blue Christmas tree. Yes, it's a bit lop-sided, but I didn't like to say.

Yes, really, it is a Christmas stationery shop

Father Christmas feeding Rudolph with something probably far too rich for his diet

Slightly moodier pic from the side. They need more street lighting over there,
someone could get mugged.

History: Past, Present and Future

Thursday, December 12th, 2013

Look at these beauties! Two elegant 1920s-style statues which I saw in an antiques warehouse recently. They're not as heavy or solid as they look, but they still look amazing and simply ooze style. I wish I had the money to buy them!
I love looking around antiques shops, it is one way to connect with the past which almost puts you there, rather than reading about it in a book or watching it re-enacted on TV. I love to wonder about the previous owners of these items, who they were and what they did and where they had them in the house, and most saddening of all, how these items came to be in the possession of an antiques dealer.
I have bought a couple of items from antiques dealers over the years - nothing too expensive, just stuff I liked - but I'd love to be able to buy more, and have the space to put it all in! I love having the past around me while living in the present and looking to the future. It's very grounding.

He looks arrogant, but undeniably elegant

Nobody should be without a wooden statue of a bear
wielding serving trays in the shape of leaves and shells

She's got quite a glare on her, this one

Aw, bless her... The Virgin Mary clutching her price tag.
Or maybe she's praying somebody will buy her?

Can't decided whether this looks 1920s or 1980s. Big shoulder pads,
 shades, severe hairstyle. Is it Magenta Devine?

I'm glad the model on top is a lady because
 that vase looks decidedly phallic

Reflections of the way life used to be, as a certain Motown diva once sang

A love letter to Conwy

Tuesday, December 10th, 2013

Conwy Castle and Guild Hall (including disco lens flare)

I took a leisurely walk around the historic town of Conwy this morning, a place that has politely dipped in and out of my life for the last 16 years now.
I first encountered it in the summer of 1997 when I came for a job interview, after which I crossed the road bridge between Llandudno Junction and Conwy to explore. It was a very hot July day and I had a good vibe about how the interview went (in the event, it went very well and I got the job, but 16 years later that's not necessarily a bonus any more!).
At the quayside was a permanently moored tallship with a restaurant and bar aboard. This, to me, was beyond cool, and I remember enjoying a cooling pint on the deck of the ship overlooking the estuary. I also remember thinking: "Yes, this would be an amazing place to work."
I was right, at least for a time. Within weeks I was the local newspaper reporter for Conwy town and I was revelling in it. One coarse but appropriate phrase I learnt recently fits the bill - my arse was in butter!
I was doing what I had always wanted to do (journalism) in a town that simply oozed history and character and charm and grandeur. I went to all the evening council meetings, met all the councillors and shopkeepers and newsagents and gossips and police officers and barmen, and completely immersed myself in the town's daily life and culture. I even went along to Conwy Folk Club one evening. Never again, mind.
I remember fondly walking along Castle Street as dusk fell one summer's evening and being stopped by a couple of American tourists who seemed flabbergasted by the castle and the amount of history the town was steeped in.
"That castle is awesome!" said the husband, his arm expansively taking in the turrets and towers. "You're so lucky to have this on your doorstep!"
I should have agreed, but instead I mischievously said: "Oh that old thing. It's got into such a dilapidated state now that the council is thinking of knocking it down. We've got plenty of castles to go round in Britain."
The look on the American's face was a picture of horror and disbelief. Don't worry, I did put him right before I continued on my way.
My time as a cub reporter in Conwy only lasted a year or so before I was "promoted" to cover the much larger and troubled Bay of Colwyn as chief reporter, but I have never forgotten Conwy and its people.
But walking around the town today, mingling with tourists and locals alike, I no longer felt "at home" there. It's not that Conwy has changed all that much, but rather that I think I have moved on. And in many ways that is a good thing, and I want to move on even more.
But the charm of Conwy will never diminish. The castle is beautiful in its dereliction, and the quayside throbs with the rhythms of its fishing heritage, whether it be the seagulls or the musselmen or the amazing collection of lobster pots and nets or the forest of boat masts.

Fishing nets and pots on Conwy Quay (in retro sepia)

Devouring a hot sausage and egg bap on the quayside, I might have felt slightly threatened by the circling, vulture-like seagulls, but I was reassured by the stunning vista stretching across the estuary toward Llandudno and Deganwy, a sight that could not fail to mute any hardship.
And I bloody well miss that tallship.

Conwy town and estuary from Llandudno Junction side

Conwy estuary looking toward Deganwy and Llandudno

A lost knight

Here's some photos I took earlier...

Monday, December 9th, 2013

Any visitor to Salford Quays (as I frequently am) should also pay a visit to the MediaCity UK complex, which houses the glassy northern headquarters of the BBC and Granada (including a newly built Coronation Street).

And right next to the MediaCity UK Metrolink station is that iconic bastion of children's television programming, the Blue Peter garden.

Well, I say iconic. Maybe it was iconic before Children's BBC moved from White City to MediaCity, but I can say with some considerable certainty that the Blue Peter garden has seen better days. Whereas before it was a proper, expansive garden that the presenters could plant things in and walk around, now it's merely a concrete corner with virtually no grass and just a hint of green. It's tokenism on a not so grand scale.

Having said that, for what it's worth, any member of the public can walk around it (well, it's more like a couple of steps than a walk) and I recently took some pictures, as I was quite taken with a very photogenic "gardener's shed" they have in one corner.

They also have Petra the dog's statue on a plinth, transported up from London, and while I am always surprised that the Blue Peter garden isn't in a permanent state of vandalism and chaos, I suppose the reason it's largely left alone is because a) it's barely noticeable, and b) nobody really cares any more, perhaps least of all the BBC.

Photo-set: Plastic bags I have known

Sunday, December 8th, 2013

I finally got round to sorting through the gazillion plastic carrier bags which were bursting out of my kitchen cupboard. The cupboard door was always slightly ajar because there were just so many bags that they wouldn't all fit. Living in Wales, these little beauties are valuable (well, they're actually worth 5p, but you get the point... and if you don't get the point, maybe you're reading this from England, but just you wait until Autumn 2015...).
Anyway, look at them all. They flooded across my kitchen floor like an ocean of plastic waves, all shapes, all sizes and all colours. All kept "just in case" we ever ran out, but as you can see, that was never likely to happen.
So I sorted through them all and recycled 75% of them, but put the ones I wanted to keep into two categories - normal size and bags for life.
Along the way I came across some bags which I was kind of sorry to see go, but nevertheless they did because at the end of the day, these things are just plastic bags! But I photographed them for posterity...
First up is this cool (non-plastic) bag from HMV marking the release of The Simpsons Movie on DVD. That was in 2007, which shows how long I've had this collection of bags...

Next we have a bag for Hermann's teddy collection, which is a bit of a mystery as I have never bought, and do not own, a Hermann's teddy bear. Plenty of other teddy bears, but not a Hermann one. Cute, though...

Next we have a bag from Macy's department store in New York City. I've been to NYC three times (get me!) so I'm not sure how long I've had this bag, but it's nice to have. Or not have now.

Another NYC-related bag next, although it's paper and not plastic, like those ubiquitous strong paper bags Americans carry groceries around in. This one is from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which is cool, obvs.

Now this is a strange one. It's obviously from New York again, but at no point have I ever seen The Phantom of the Opera, on Broadway or anywhere else, so I'm not sure how I came to have this! It's for a shop called Phantom of Broadway, but I have no recollection of going there either.

I'm no cat fan - I'm definitely a dog person - but this Sainsbury's bag made me smile.

Are you bored yet? I bet you're finding this embarrassingly interesting, and I'd also wager it's made you think about rooting through your own plastic bag collection to see what "interesting" bags you have.

Next up is an arty bag from the Tate in London. Been there.

Plastic bags are like diaries of where you've been. Here we have two bags from the Tower of London. I stole a raven from the Tower in one of them.

Time for a bit of patriotism with this unidentified carrier sporting the Union flag. I had real doubts when I decided to throw this one!

And finally (I can sense the disappointment in you), a rather florid bag from the Victoria and Albert Museum. The colour palette reminds me of those disgusting chocolate lime sweets you can buy, which I despise, so I had no qualms about ditching this one.

And there you have it. Plastic carrier bags I have known. Now go and look at yours... ;o)

Rooftop craziness

Blog back up and running after a short interval for personal reasons. In future, the blog will not necessarily be daily, but will still be regular. Hell, it might even be more than once a day occasionally!

Thursday, December 5th, 2013

As I write there is a frightening gale outside, with gusts of up to 70mph thrashing against the North Wales coastline. Flood warnings are in place because of the seasonal high tide, and the wind is ferociously damaging - it's wheelie bin day so the streets around where I live are like some post-Apocalyptic horrorscape.
So what is the one thing you wouldn't do in these weather conditions? Climb up onto the roof of a three-storey building perhaps?
The house opposite me is rather unseasonably having its roof renovated and replaced, although work had to stop on that earlier this week when the gales were forecast.
Predictably, the tarpaulin has been ripped off the roof by the gales, exposing the house's top storey to the elements. Nevertheless, I'd still think twice about climbing up onto the roof via an unsecured ladder, wearing just a parka, to try and secure the tarpaulin, against all natural odds.
I'm really concerned about this guy, who I think is completely crackers at the same time. I'm keeping my eye on him from the safety of my front room, hoping I don't see him falling to his doom with the next strong gust.