Harmony Devoured

So there it goes, yuletide's furry backside disappearing over the horizon taking the sickly baubels and sugar highs with it. Skin the reindeer, papa wants roast! In plain speak? Im happy Christmas has buggered off, its like coming up for air after a week lurking in the depths of Swiss Valley reservoir. Don't get me wrong, its great if you have children, creating special memories you had as a child (some children are not that lucky of course) but for me? Im happy its gone. And it used to arrive with such a potent buzz that no drug could ever hope to match. When out delivering cards with my late mother, I swore I could hear bells ringing from the star freckled night sky, there was a mystic energy that only children posses but alas it has left this rust bucket I call a soul, magic at zero and doubt it will ever return.
Arrives with age some would say but I'd wager that even the hardest Ebenezer Scroodge had at least heard a Christmas carol or watched a television "classic" during the festivities.
Want to know something? I didn't. Dim byd. Nothing. Not even a sniff of a mince pie. To my mind (and this is important because it was only in my company, with loved ones it was different) Christmas day might well have been a rainy weekend down the /Mumbles. Ah dear Mumbles! Escaping the silly season might seem impossible to most but I swear its doable. I just did it and to be fair, I wish a pill existed to get the spirit and excitement back but take enough happy tablets and you'll know that even chemical rainbows have limits.
So again it goes with a nary a farewell and no alchemy can ever dress bones. Its been a blast throughout those milky years, almost was the perfect drug, a never ending agent of harmony but one day all magic dies and for me (just me I hope), I can be happy with that. And I am perfectly happy.


*Please forgive the often heavy spirit this post was written in. I assure you gentle reader that everything is fine in the funhouse. Dark lines always make for better scenes and in family company the scene was different.

Welcome to the (Death) Party

Cin Cin?

A wise poet once said, "do not dance on your enemies grave, for tomorrow your friend dies." The people planning on holding 'death parties' in celebration of Margaret Thatchers death would do well to heed these words. Its perfectly monstrous to think that human beings could stoop so low as to want to raise a glass to a fellow humans passing. How low can ye go? Baroness Thatcher might not have been everyones cup of tea (to say the least) but at the end of the day, this was a very ill 87 year lady who has left us and it is hardly time for celebration. Not if you fancy keeping a shred of humanity and dignity.
The time for cheering was when Lady T resigned. All the hatred aimed at her in life has no purpose now but to serve anger itself because she is in her eternal sleep of jewelled flowers and golden tea, where drafts of rage can no longer touch her. And considering how the Iron Lady would have swatted any petty criticism aside like a tiger toying with a shrew when she was alive, I cannot think how these foul sounding 'death parties' will be anything other than proof of how low man can sink. Only the most ignorant and stupid will gain a scrap of joy from popping a cork over a coffin.
And these are generally the liberal types who have the gall to call me barbaric for supporting the death penalty! Listen, the next time you fellows accuse me (and the Conservatives) of being uncaring, cruel and evil, Mr Jakes will remind them of this behaviour.

Happy St. David's Day All!

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Sant hapus i chi gyd! Happy Saint David's Day everyone! Mr Jakes will sadly be missing out on the Cawl because I had more than my fair share of the Welsh Manna yesterday (and Duw it was great) but there will be Welshcakes for tea and seeing as its friday, a few pints of Felinfoel Ale for supper.

To be born in Wales,
Not with a silver spoon in your mouth,
But, with music in your blood
And with poetry in your soul,
Is a privilege indeed.

Taken from the poem "In Passing" written in 1967 by Brian Harris

God bless St. David and God bless Wales