Pictures of you (and you and you)

Thursday, December 18th, 2014

I had a work leaving do last night, even though I left two weeks ago. We all had a great time, first quaffing a few drinks at the Albion pub in Conwy, then scoffing a meal at Alfredo's restaurant in the town. A handful of us returned to the Albion for last orders. A good night was had by all, and I thank everybody for coming along. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway, the booby prize for those who came is for pictures of them to be posted on the interweb (and I expect my blog stats to go through the roof and for the number of hits to be reported diligently at the next Daily Post news conference). For those unable to make it, this will no doubt give them a chuckle...

First up, two people I spent a lot of the last five
years at work with, Eva and Joel (quite what
Eva is doing to poor Joel is a mystery. Maybe
it's a Slovakian massage or something).
Joel looks half-cut, but was actually 100% sober
for a change.

Then we have Neil (my former boss, a phrase he doesn't particularly like) and Mari,
a reporter I've worked with for more years than either of us will ever admit to.
Mari was really up for this photo...

...Neil not so much. So Mari went for the jugular. By the way, they are spectacles
on Neil's head, which he puts there so he can see up to people.

Here we have Owen (who came as a Frenchman),
Dion (who looks like butter wouldn't melt but
 we all know it so would), Samantha (who looks distinctly unsure about
these guys) and Steve, who looks like he's
not sure about anything.

Here's Steve looking a little more confident about who and
where he is, with glam Samantha, plus Judith, whose
curled fist makes her look ready to lash out at any
moment. She's also looking off-camera. There's
always one...

There is an "out-take" from that session, where Samantha and Steve are deep in conversation and Judy looks far less aggressive...

Group shot of Blake (aka Eric Morecambe), Laura (caught in mid-swish) and
Tom, who's probably about to say something vaguely intelligent that nobody's
listening to. Maybe it's about the poo on his plate? In the background we have Jo
(who we'll come back to) and a preoccupied Andy, who's probably texting the
latest work experience girl to arrange a hook-up.

Me (the handsome one on the left) and Tom,
who looks pretty satisfied with himself. And
so he should be - he has plenty to be proud of.
I won't say where his right hand was in that shot
(actually, maybe that's why he's so satisfied...)

Andy and Rhodri. Don't they make a nice couple? Neither of them look like
they want this photograph to happen!

Two goons. I never look good in selfies. Rob looks like someone's tickling him,
which may have been his wife Helen as she'd just been told by a fortune-telling
fish from a Christmas cracker that she was passionate.

Rob with said wife Helen. She looks very demure here, but trust me, you don't
cross her. Rob did once, and now look at him. Also, Rob was very amused by
the sign behind him reading "a touch of cream". I'm saying nothing.

Mari again and Jo, properly this time. Again, don't they make a nice couple?
And there's Rhodri in the background thinking: "Thank God Andy's going."

And finally, me and Owen (the Frenchman
from earlier on). Don't they make a lovely couple?

Absent from these pictures but who did come along for a drink are David, Bryan and Jez (who I learned used to be a bingo caller in Caernarfon. I can so see that).

Thank you again for everybody who came along, thank you to those who were unable to make it but who were there in spirit, and thank you to everyone collectively for raising £117.50 for Parkinson's UK when they had a whip-round for me. That means the most to me.

I won't miss the job I've left, but I will miss the people. Every single one of you.

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

The beauty under my nose

Thursday, November 7th, 2013

Living in North Wales - or, I suppose, any other beautiful part of the United Kingdom - it's all too easy to overlook the splendour of your surroundings. I live in Llandudno and virtually have a great big bloody mountain in my back garden (the Great Orme); I have the Irish Sea lapping at the sandy shore 30 seconds from my front door; and I have the rolling green hills of the Conwy Valley just minutes away.
But do I see that every day? No. What I see is the drudgery of driving to work, filling up on petrol, nipping to the corner shop for some bread, and putting the rubbish out.
But as I do all of these mundane, everyday things, I forget that I am doing it in such beautiful, often breathtaking natural surroundings. North Wales is an inspiring place, and it is all too easy to ignore that fact by living here.
Today I noticed the sheer amazingness of the fact the ocean was just metres away from my shoes, just along a short cobbled pathway down to the beach near Conwy. Beyond it, the rest of the world, this beautiful planet Earth.
But we don't have to go too far to see a fraction of that beauty, here, in North Wales.