Raising Skinny Elephants…

Hi all

I know, I know… I said I’d finished with this blog, but needs must when the devil farts in your kettle…

Anyway, just to let you know that the sequel to Ctrl-Alt-Delete is now available for download on Amazon kindle, PC, laptop, iPhone, Apple Mac etc. for those that are interested / read the first one.

It’s called Raising Skinny Elephants (which refers to the bringing up of malnourished kids / Linux version of Ctrl-Alt-Delete in case you wondered…)

As Amazon updates its rankings on an hourly basis, any chance you could all buy it between 12pm-1pm on Saturday?  Just a thought   Apologies to those living in Australia

Anyway, still need to get people to read the first one first so anyone you know whose had a kindle for birthday, Easter, divorce present… etc. please encourage them to download a copy. A gun to the head often helps, opps, sorry, slipped back into character there…

For those that read it, I hope you enjoy it and I’d like to say I really appreciate your support and kind words. Oh yeh, and a nice juicy review on Amazon would be much appreciated too when you get a chance.

http://amzn.to/10n1nZn

Cheers Dave

Amazon kindle charts!

Just a quick post to blow my own trumpet I guess   Logged on to Amazon yesterday and saw that my Haiku collection had reached #16 in the ‘Haiku’ charts! Well impressed with this so thought I’d see if this blog was still alive and tell the world.

Click here to see the charts and here to buy the book.

Of course, by the time most of you try the above links I will have probably disappeared into the cyber-abyss of the low hundreds but you never know!  Maybe one day a Welsh writer will get that prized #1 spot and here’s me hoping it’s me!

Enough is Enough

After a year of playing with this blog I realise that to do it justice I need to post something at least once a week. To do this would be a full time job. Unfortunately I neither have the time nor the inclination to do this anymore.

A few years ago I started to scale down my online activities. I stopped doing the Ponty rugby web site (although I do have a season ticket), this year I got rid of my photography site (which might allow me time to take more photographs), and I do less and less web design too.

I’m not completely inactive in the online world of course, I do still tweet a few tweets from time to time, and I did manage to post a few articles to this new blog account. I still have the Ponty Town web site and forum and have enjoyed using WordPress to re-design my new writers site. The new poetry competition will enter its 7th year soon and I’m still trying to become a novelist! But more needs to go.

So, whilst it’s fun to moan about this and that, it’s not as if many people ever reads this stuff, and so I ask myself – do I want to devote myself to more hours, tied to my crappy old PC than I have to? Therefore my time as a blogger must come to an end.

Give me a couple more years and hopefully the Facebook account, Twitter and maybe other projects may expire too – after all who wants to further contaminate the digital beach when everyone else is leaving footprints about the place. Far better to be obscure and mysterious I reckon. A bit like Hagar

In the meantime, if any of you are still reading, there is my writing / photography site here.

Thanks for the last year, thanks for the follows, thanks for the comments, Likes or whatever we do these days but as Stephen Fry said in The New Statesman ‘It’s been real’.

Ta ra.

Crime thriller – Valleys style!

Back in Oct 2011 I somehow managed to publish my first novel – Ctrl-Alt-Delete.  A cyber-stalking, Facebook, murder mystery, love story set in Cardiff, Pontypridd, Trefforest, the valleys and the wilds of the Brecon Beacons.  It was a tough job but someone had to do it as they say.

It took me a year or so of research and a few weeks to write up, then came the hard bit – editing!  I checked, re-checked and double-checked, but somehow still managed to spell Chicken Knickers wrong.

Then by 2012 I had also published the Amazon kindle version, which sold over 1000 copies in its first couple of months… With this great news, and 15 five star reviews, I started to get carried away and wondered how on earth I’d get the ocean going yacht up my terraced street what with all these royalities that would be flooding in soon, but luckily for me (and the council) they soon dried up   Ah well, back to the desk then.

A sequel must be what’s needed I thought, so had a think and came up with another idea.  So until I find some more time to finish writing that I’ll have to wait for the Ferrari, the groupies, villa in the Algarve etc. – oh the life of a writer…

In the meantime here’s an excerpt from the original for you.  Just to wet the whistle as they say.  And if you like Wales, sick British humour, crime thrillers, IT & Facebook, proper sex (not the complete bollocks you find in 50 Shades of Shite) and a good old fashioned, ‘modern’ love story you may just like this:

Prologue
August 2010…

Jenny had drunk far too much white wine. It was an easy mistake to make and now she was going to die.

How long had she been unconscious? She had no idea. No concept of time. Struggling hard not to panic as she felt herself begin to hyperventilate Jenny instinctively knew she must absorb and assimilate every detail, something somewhere might save her. She also knew she must act immediately if she wanted to escape.

She struggled for breath and forced herself not to give in to the gagging reflex as her desert-dry mouth filled with burning bile. Jenny’s swollen eyes strained to become accustomed to the murky gloom. She tried to shake her long, curly brown hair away from her face but dried sweat held it tight as the cold metal of the handcuffs cut into her wrists. Her whole body was aching and her pulse throbbed relentlessly in her head.

Thinking back to earlier that evening she vaguely remembered her vision blurring and the muted sound of words slurring, like holding your head underwater in the bath. Then her stomach had tightened and warm flushes had begun to spread out all over her body. A distorted Daliesque clock face slowly slithered down the wall. As Jenny’s coordination flew off into the evening her knees buckled. She headed for the carpet in slow motion. A small, rough hand expertly plucked the free-falling wine glass from mid-air and delicately placed it on a low wicker table.

Terror can manifest itself in different ways but all Jenny could visualize at this moment was Hal’s grinning face staring back from the centre of a computer monitor. In the first brief seconds of consciousness she searched for reassurance. She tried to reason with herself, to tell herself it would be OK.

She tried to justify her actions, to make sense of it, to make it alright. It wasn’t her fault. What else could she have done? Stalkers don’t just stalk anybody do they? You have to give them a reason. You have got to make them want to do it.

Oh shit! What have I got myself into? The thought of being a lonely old spinster was suddenly very appealing… then unexpectedly, off to the side, a long penetrating torch beam flashed across her body and in a nanosecond she was catapulted back to the present. The harsh light settled on her pale face and blinded Jenny for a brief moment before an echoing click plunged her back into silence and darkness.

With her senses heightened by fear she could taste the damp, musty smells of straw, onions and potatoes. The odour of mouse droppings mingled with the stink of rotting, wet vegetables. She desperately searched the dim recesses of her prison. Her funeral-black pupils frantically scanned the darkness for hope. Penetrating, probing. Looking for anything that could offer her a way out of this nightmare… and then she saw them.

Laid out purposefully in a neat line on the small wooden bench in the corner of the barn. Almost out of sight. Not placed in front of you – for effect. Not staring you in the face, not carefully arranged like pretty glass ornaments on a living room shelf. Not meant to shock or terrify. These had been put there for a purpose. Practical. To be used.

Jenny shivered, her big brown eyes grew to saucers, her face became china-white as the adrenaline kicked in and coursed through her blood. She tried to jerk free but the restraints held firm as she slowly traced the metallic shapes in perfect clarity. Her screams were muffled by the crimson scarf tied tight around her mouth, and an earthy taste of silk mixed with her briny tears as they streamed into her mouth.

Suddenly and without warning she felt warm liquid flow down her legs as her bladder opened involuntary. She stank of fear. She missed her daddy.

Then, slowly but surely, the same rough hand emerged from the shadows and reached for a shiny, clean scalpel that glinted sporadically in the half-light. It edged closer to her, leaving the rest of the knives, dissection instruments and power tools set out clinically in the dark.

One
April 1st 2010…

Hal Griffiths had been fast asleep. His head submerged deep in a pillow, Egyptian cotton sheets wrapped around his lean but muscular torso.

A thick winter duvet lay in a pile on the floor next to a pair of old Levi jeans and a faded blue Billabong tee shirt. Bridgedale light-weight walking socks and a pair of Merrell trail shoes were close by. Smiling to himself, semi-conscious now, he kept his eyes closed tight.

These were the precious minutes just before waking when your mind knew it was time to face another day but your body craved another hours rest, or was it the other way around? Either way he wasn’t going anywhere, the voluptuous super-model Elle McPherson was with him.

Ctrl-Alt-Delete is published by Ponty Press and available in paperback, Amazon kindle, e-book for PC, Mac, iPad or iPhone.

US Elections

Yeh, I know a strange heading for a Welsh blog, but I think I’ve worked out why the BBC and other useless media we have in this country are so obsessed with what goes on in the US, even though no-one in Britain gives a monkeys.  It’s because, as the old saying goes, we follow (or lag behind) America by about 5 years. Now that is rather frightening for many reasons, but here is just one.

If you look at Cameron, Clegg and Miliband you can hardly see the joins, but at least all three of them, well, two at least, mmm, OK, one maybe, can speak. You know what I mean, form words, and in some cases coherent sentences…

Well, let’s take a quick look at the US candidates:

Barrack Obama

‘When I meet with world leaders, what’s striking – whether it’s in Europe or here in Asia…’ – mistakenly referring to Hawaii as Asia (Nov 16, 2011)

‘The Middle East is obviously an issue that has plagued the region for centuries.’ (Jan 28, 2010)

‘The reforms we seek would bring greater competition, choice, savings and inefficiencies to our health care system.’ (July 20, 2009)

‘It was also interesting to see that political interaction in Europe is not that different from the United States Senate. There’s a lot of – I don’t know what the term is in Austrian, wheeling and dealing.’ – confusing German for ‘Austrian’, a language which does not exist (Strasbourg, France, April 6, 2009)

‘No, no. I have been practicing… I bowled a 129. It’s like – it was like Special Olympics, or something.’ (March 19, 2009)

‘I didn’t want to get into a Nancy Reagan thing about doing any séances.’ – after saying he had spoken with all the living presidents as he prepared to take office (Nov 7, 2008)

‘What I was suggesting – you’re absolutely right that John McCain has not talked about my Muslim faith…’

‘Let me be absolutely clear. Israel is a strong friend of Israel’s. So that policy is not going to change.’ (Amman, Jordan, July 22, 2008)

‘On this Memorial Day, as our nation honours its unbroken line of fallen heroes, and I see many of them in the audience here today, our sense of patriotism is particularly strong.’

‘I’ve now been in 57 states, I think one left to go.’ – at a campaign event in Beaverton, Oregon

‘Why can’t I just eat my waffle?’ – after being asked a foreign policy question by a reporter while visiting a diner in Pennsylvania

‘It’s not surprising, then, they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren’t like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.’ – explaining his troubles winning over some working-class voters

‘Come on! I just answered, like, eight questions.’ – exasperated by reporters after a news conference

‘In case you missed it, this week, there was a tragedy in Kansas. Ten thousand people died, an entire town destroyed.’ – on a Kansas tornado that killed 12 people

Mitt Romney

‘Everything corporations earn ultimately goes to the people.’ – Mitt Romney, when asked if taxes should be raised on corporations as part of balancing the budget (August 2011)

‘I like being able to fire people who provide services to me.’ – Mitt Romney (January 2012)

‘I’m not concerned about the very poor. We have a safety net there.’ – Mitt Romney (January 2012)

‘I should tell my story. I’m also unemployed.’ – Mitt Romney, speaking in 2011 to unemployed people in Florida. Romney’s net worth is over $200 million.

‘My wife drives a couple of Cadillacs.’ – Mitt Romney, (February 2012)

‘I believe in an America where millions of Americans believe in an America that’s the America millions of Americans believe in. That’s the America I love.’ – Mitt Romney (January 2012)

‘PETA is not happy that my dog likes fresh air.’ – Mitt Romney, responding to criticism from People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals following revelations that he had once put the family dog in a carrier and strapped it to the roof of his car during a 12-hour road trip

‘We have a president, who I think is a nice guy, but he spent too much time at Harvard, perhaps.’ – Mitt Romney, who despite being as thick as two short planks somehow managed to get two Harvard degrees (April 5, 2012)

‘I love this state. The trees are the right height.’ – Mitt Romney, campaigning in Michigan (February 2012)

‘I get speaker’s fees from time to time, but not very much.’ – Mitt Romney, who earned $374,000 in speaking fees in one year (January 2012)

‘I’m not familiar precisely with what I said, but I’ll stand by what I said, whatever it was.’ —Mitt Romney (May 17, 2012)

So there you have it, the thoughts of two of the most powerful men on the planet. Still, at least Sarah Palin isn’t standing.

Hoodieism

I understand that teenagers wearing ‘hoodies’ are often banned or turned away from shopping centres because of their dress.  I know that Muslim women in hijabs etc. are not.  So, I have a solution.  Someone invents a new religion – call it ‘Hoodieism’.  Then no-one will be able to oppress the people wearing hoodies again.  Just a thought

Bimble #1

Prestatyn to Ponty ’97

Like Ranulph Fiennes it immediately captured Mark’s imagination – an epic four day bicycle ride through the Welsh heartland – Prestatyn to Ponty. The cause – Rhondda Animal Aid: a refuge and haven for the bemused and unwanted waifs and strays in the locality. On the journey, myself, described by Mark as ‘a zoologist, teacher and wildlife photographer with wanderlust’, and Mark ‘ex rugby star, drinker, philanderer and story teller’. When asked what he should take I told Mark ‘Don’t take a lot, you won’t need it’. ‘If the spring lambs can survive April so will you’. Informing a work colleague of his intentions he was given more advice, ‘I’ve done something similar. Invest in a touring saddle, a tenner in Halfords and a big pot of Vaseline’. We will both be eternally grateful for that pearl of wisdom.

Driving north Mark asks me the obvious question, ‘Why Prestatyn to Ponty?’ ‘Because they both begin with P’ I say. Lucky we’re not cycling to Ynysbwl, Mark thought. Stopping at Newtown for a cuppa we acquired our mascot, a cuddly penguin called ‘Newt’ after his hometown, not the amount of beer we were to consume that night. Little did we imagine just how apt a mascot he would be, for as we travelled northwards we soon began to notice there was quite a lot of snow on the higher ground. Mark asked if the forecast was promising, one word reply from me ‘Fine’. Well, I didn’t want to put him off now did I?

Dropped off in Prestatyn, we found the lodgings I’d booked and retired for the night. Well, if you believe that one you’d have believed Mark’s version! Out on the town, me and Sue on the beers and Mark on his mobile. Disco pub at the top of town, full of sixteen year olds, convinced us to visit the kebab shop. Mighty BSE burgers and kebabs later we crashed – perfect training for the marathon ahead. Early next morning over breakfast the landlady was informed it was Mark’s birthday. To much rejoicing she returned from the kitchen with a three day old muffin from which protruded a half burned candle, singing loudly, ‘Happy Birthday to Mike’, whoever he was.

Farewell Prestatyn, on with the Vaseline and off we go on a bright spring morning but howling a gale, heading towards Llangollen via the horseshoe pass, determination etched on our faces. Shortly after – misery! – the weather changed – the blue sky over Snowdonian was no more and looking backwards a wall of sleet and snow descended on us.

Cycling hard we reached Ruthin and dived into a café to wait out the storm. Why do people always have to comment on your attire, shorts and t-shirt when there is a snowstorm raging outside? Just as suddenly it abated and with much good cheer off we set with some sponsorship money and the mountains before us.

A few miles down the road, further mishap – the pedal on Mark’s so called bike, which he thought was loose, was looser than he thought and it fell off.

Realizing immediately how difficult it would be pedalling a one-pedal mountain bike through the horseshoe pass we stopped at a house and knocked the door. ‘Do you have a spanner we could borrow?’ we asked, looking like two lost puppies in the snow, to which the man of the house replied ‘If your cycling up the horseshoe pass dressed like that in weather like this, keep the bloody spanner!’. This made me wonder how much a taxi fare to the top would be, but patched up on we rode.

Ahead, the mighty 1400ft horseshoe pass, without oxygen. At the summit, dodging snowballs that children playfully throw at the two idiots in shorts we ate the mouldy muffin – wow, calories never tasted so good! A quick photo stop and then the descent. Six miles downhill in to Llangollen, exactly what ‘wind chill factor’ means we found out.

Frostbitten we cycle along the old canal bank and eventually hobble into the tourist information office with legs looking like Bernard Matthews frozen chickens. Mark placed his pedal on the desk and enquired if there was a local repair shop open. No. It was Bank Holiday but there was a guy at the youth hostel … Luckily I’d booked this night as well, best not to mention tomorrow I thought.  Two miles out of town we booked into the haunted castle Llangollen Youth Hostel and stood in the shower for about three hours! Refreshed we were out on the town, although it seemed shut. But the day’s exertion had taken it’s toll and two pints later we were in the curry house falling asleep in the CTM.

Next morning we were met by bicycle repair man – hooray! Fare dues he was great. Fixed Mark’s pedal for nothing and off we set – our bum’s a little tender. (Not sure if I should have put that line in?) Heading for Newtown, 45 miles away. As cycling became a little hazardous on the road we decided to follow what seemed to be Offa’s Dyke, signed posted ‘Severn Way’, a canal towpath which ran parallel to the main road. Much better we thought.

But … half way down the trail a rather large swan took an instant dislike to us as we approached and made it’s feelings known. Cycling hard we tried to outrun the bird but not realizing we were heading towards the nest where his mate was brooding! Glancing backwards, a swan in full flight heading straight towards you, two feet off the water looks similar to an exocet missile – and we were the intended target. I tried to get a photo but he did look a bit agitated so we carried on moving, cycling past the nest, overtaking each other on the towpath, by now the swan was going mental, we threw our bikes on our shoulders and jumped over the gate. The swan calm again, resting now and leaning on the gate we read the sign ‘Please beware of the swans’

Reaching Newtown in a sleet shower, we decided to carry on not realising the next town was many miles away. Four miles of hills later, as we approached the top of the mountain the blizzard hit us, it was so cold even the sheep had gone home. We saw a light and headed for it. The lady was somewhat perplexed to see two cyclists in shorts on her doorstep at the top of a Welsh mountain in a blizzard seeking shelter. Unfolding a sodden copy of the Rhondda Leader explaining our charitable efforts, she kindly let us stay the night and placed our bikes in her garage that was full of lambs that were not too happy, especially the ones with the short back and sides. In the morning after a big round of two pints the night before at the Dolfar pub we awoke to silence.

We could just make out the tops of some sheep walking through tunnels in the snow! A bleak and white wilderness ahead we dressed with everything we had – the only thing Mark wasn’t wearing was his rucksac, and that was ‘cos he didn’t have one. After a hearty breakfast we thought about trains to Newport via Newtown but then … what the hell.

The snow-plough driver was really helpful and let us cycle behind him past the abandoned cars and lorries, encouraging us with toots and hollers. One lorry driver who was delivering feed to the farmers remarked that he’d thought he’d seen it all. After thirty years of doing his job he had, as my hand wrapped inside three socks waved to him as we passed.

We met many very kind hearted people on the journey who sponsored us including Jim, the manager of the Erwood Inn outside Builth Wells who fed and watered us free of charge. The remainder of the trip was eventful and cold, my knees gave out (again) near Tal-y-Bont and the hills were a bugger. Mark nearly froze to death in Cefn Coed but thanks to a lovely Chinese girl who cooked us beans on toast and my Kenyan kikoi wrapped around his purple legs we survived. Was it worth it? If all the distressed animals felt like we did at the end of the journey they certainly do need the help!

Thanks to everyone that helped us en-route.
Adapted from a fairy-tale by Mark Davies.

Charity bit…

Rhondda Animal Aid is a local charity which seeks to care for and re-house abandoned or abused animals in the area.  Much of the work, that is done by volunteers, is with dogs and cats but all animals are cared for.  Our story, along with the pictures here relate to our efforts during a snowy Easter to help the mistreated dogs of south Wales. ‘Jack’ the Jack Russell who was found and returned to his rightful owners thanks to the Rhondda Leader’s Photograph and the publicity surrounding the bike ride.

Many thanks to all who contributed to our Bike Job, especially Jim at the Erwood Inn (the sandwiches were much appreciated!), the ladies on top of the Horseshoe Pass and everyone who gave us money en-route and the Rhondda Leader for the pic and story which also helped us re-home our own adopted dog ‘Jack’ who was claimed by his rightful owner’s thanks to the paper.

Originally posted on Ponty Town web site.