It’s a self-pubbed book, so it may well not count as a ‘proper’ book, but it’s the right length and it tells a story and everything. Perhaps a bit of a mad story, with monsters and explosions and extremely complicated personal relationships (I am totally stealing this sentence from one of my two kind reviewers) but as they say, for people who like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing they will like!
Hopefully, at least. You can have a gander inside at the link below and decide if it’s your thing or not.
In No Way Heroes
Woo, look at me, I started a new blog sit and it immediately fell on its face by the wayside. Much like when I started a new jogging regime that time, but that’s by the by. At least I was only in a metaphorical ditch, this time around.
So, things that have happened over the summer. First off, I got taken to Wales for my birthday, which is not a particularly long trip and yet one I had never made. For bonus points, we got stranded on the top of Mount Snowdon for HOURS when the tram (yes, we were being lazy, I mean, efficient – and supporting the local tourist trade!) broke down.
Not gonna lie, it got pretty grim. There was nowhere to sit, so we had to eat our pasties standing at a table, and the cider ran out so I was forced to drink local craft ale. The less said about my experience in the gift-shop the better, but lets just say I was rather lighter of pocket when we eventually got back to civilisation.
I will say, however, that I did love the round of applause that one of my fellow passengers got for making it to the very summit of the mountain. It may only have been about a 25 metre hike, in terms of verticality, but he suffered for it and I felt the spontaneous outbreak of love was well-deserved.
I don’t have any photos of that particular event because I felt it would be rude and intrusive. However, here are some photos of pictures drawn from photos of Wales, which is probably rather an unnecessary number of moves from the original:
So I was round for coffee at next door’s bit the other day, and they suddenly said, Do you want a spare skull for keeping things in? If not, it’s going in the garage.
Well of course, I said, mainly because I thought I had misheard the first bit, and anyway, who doesn’t need things for keeping things in?
I hadn’t misheard.
I think I’ll call him Monte. I thought of keeping my sharpeners in him because they keep disappearing, but alas, I am too late.
We went down to a family wedding for the Easter Saturday, which was pretty low key but that was great because I got to talk to absolutely everyone who was there. Sunday, we met this retired couple at breakfast in the B&B and ended up being an hour and a half late setting off, just because the guy was absolutely, charmingly mental. Not only did he make me feel much better about being a gigantic wierdo myself, but I can’t wait to get old and spend my days trolling car salesmen too, now.
We did a wee circuit of the coast, armed with an OS map (in a car. If anyone does this on foot, or by bike, I salute you) on the way to Whithorn, (where my partner apparently dug up human bones with the school, many years ago. Wow, our school never did anything like that). We found an iron-age hill-fort, two lumps we thought were cursuses (cursi?) but turned out to be mottes, a couple of standing stones, a monument to Tarka the Otter, St Finian’s Well, and the Torhouse Stone Circle.
I am many things but a good photographer isn’t one of them, so here are the two least mediocre shots, of Torhouse Stone Circle and an Anglo-Celtic Cross near Thornhill, respectively.