The Velvet Rim of Wales - Pembroke Coast

Deffrwch Cymry cysglyd y gân

dwfn yw'r gwendid
bychan yw y fflam
Creulon yw'r cynhaef
ond per yw'r dôn
'Da' alaw'r alarch unig
yn fy mron
Every day when I wake up
I thank the Lord I'm Welsh

Darganfyddais gwir baradws Rhyl
Gwledd o fedd
gynhyrfodd Cymraes swil
Every day when I wake up
I thank the Lord I'm Welsh

International Velvet by Catatonia

Translation of this post is courtesy to Inter Trans

'm 'n flaen argraffau chan Cymru fel a teenager hysbyswyd at Catatonia , 'r 'n gyfriniol , dywyllwch - hued - namyn - chyneua - hearted , 'n gathaidd - yn lleisio quirky indy aig a cyrchedig 'r byd dendio - yn baglan canau cara ‘ Road Rage ' a ‘Don't Need the Sunshine '. Acha Difiau hwyr Chyflea off chan Paddington acha a 3 awr deithio i mewn i 'r asgre chan Cymru mewn arafa chludiad yn chwyrlïo ar gerdded chan 'r fachlud haul.

Fel 'n ebrwydd fel basiasom Caerdydd 'r chyweiria chyfundrefn a acenion 'r ffordd a bopeth chan chyflea enwau at cerrynt amneidiau at hyffordda chyhoeddiadau dorrwyd 'n ddwyieithiol i mewn Saesneg a Cymraeg ydy 'n anaelau 'n gampus , Synnais a iawn argraffedig ag a guy acha 'r ffôn 'm heneiddia a hun chofnod was yn lladd busnes ddelia i mewn Saesneg a was 'n gyfnesaf 'n abl at areithia Cymraeg 'n ffraeth yn sylwi 'r yn eistedd arfaetha am eiddo brawd s briodas i mewn Caerdydd 'r trannoeth.

M-8 cyffyrddedig 'm am 'r annwyd a 'n ddigysgod arllwys Abertawe gorsaf am 9pm, a cenfaint i mewn 'r dywyllwch a gwlych a 'n nifylog hwyr drwo chulha a yn am-droi ffyrdd ( do bu 'n waedlyd scary) drwo at Marloe Sands ble seiliasom ourselves achos 'r 'n gyfnesaf 'n dri ddiwrnod s exploration chan 'r Penfro Hwylio Gyda'r tir.


'n le ydy brofiad i mewn itself. 'r YHA Hostel am Marloe Sands ydy a superb hychydig brycha , jyst off bannod chan 'r Penfro Coastal Cerdd route overlooking a typical jiggered chlogwynau a 'r Skomer Island seabird addoldy ) mewn lluniwr amaetha carega d] , a feddianedig ar y pryd 'n fwyaf at deuluoedd 'n angerddol am hiking , lawer chanddyn yn cymeryd 'n hwy 'n ieuanc blant chanddyn. 'i 'n ddiamodol 'n ardderchog at ddeffro i fyny at a 'n nifylog bore yn arogleuo 'r aig , ag 'r gwlych am-dro yn chwythu i mewn i 'ch bais. 'r gwyllt blodau a cellïau yn amgylchu gwna 'i a yn llacio chyflea at archwilia ar ôl a hun - catered brecwasta. Hun would , hagen , angen at bod 'n anaelau 'n effro am yn camu acha hun chan hyn 'n frwnt buggers – humongous slugs 'r faint chan a brifiedig ddyn s bodia , rhyw ddyhea a chyneua 'n frown , a others , cara darluniedig , ydy 'n anhydwf a 'n frown a 'n arfog ag a yn diflasu yn disgwyl chrau - 'n lliwiog cant. ( bydew , ]n 'n ddiniwed 'n sylweddol , namyn 'ch jyst all t chyfnertha yn meddwl hyn bethau ydy 'n waedlyd chornia 'n anhardd ).











--> So this is what I’ve figured out – if English people talk like they are joggling golf balls in their mouths, and Scottish people talk like they are slurping cold noodles, then Welsh people talk like they are chewing a couple of these giant slugs.-->

Day 1: Pembroke, Coastal Path #1 & Tenby

Penbroke & Pembroke Castle

M-8 a Fi bumbled along ar hyd i mewn 'n hychydig 'n ardrethol car at Penfro a bustley hychydig dref i mewn 'r canol chan 'r Cymraeg chyngaws ag a 'n iach a vibrant bentref buchedd ble 'r locals ymddangosedig llaciedig namyn feddianedig ag 'n bwysig cenadwriau ar y cyd. Ar ôl yn cael afael chan rhyw 'n amheuthun espresso i mewn dref , Buais bydew perked i fyny ag 'm bushy chloren a off aem at archwilia Penfro Castella. Bu Norman Castella Birthplace chan Harri VII ar yn disgwyl 'r dref amgylchedig at a scary yn disgwyl moat a 'r 'n dalgryf structures 'n ddiogel adeiladedig acha briga chan hogof a was i mewn arfer i mewn 'r carega heneiddia , a wedi bod utilised fel a storage arwynebedd at 'r Castella er yn bod adeiladedig i mewn 1063. Odiaeth impressive!

Manorbier Castle along the coastal path to Tenby
http://www.pcnpa.org.uk/website/default.asp?SID=176&SkinID=3

Manorbier Castella ar hyd 'r hwylio gyda'r tir at Dinbych-y-pysgod Cathrenasom i lawr at Manobier Castella achos lunch , 'r chychwynfa chan 'n hike achos 'r ddiwrnod ( canfod Ddiwrnod route chan 'r Pembrokeshire Hwylio Gyda'r tir Llwybr 'n Genedlaethol Llusga ) Yn byddaru 'n ddramatig chlogwynau yn difannu i mewn i 'r ddwfn tourquoise aig boundless gorwel a fizzled i mewn i 'r awyr. 'r chulha yn am-droi cerrynt i mewn gwynebu chennym yn difannu drwo hun cama chan 'r allt a yn lledrithio drwo arall i mewn 'r 'n bell. 'r ceraint chyfarfuom acha 'r ffordd ydy jyst yn anwylo. 'r cail starring 'r blacksheep chan 'r deulu , 'r 'n unig ddua adar patrolling 'r coastline ar ôl 'r drefedigaethau chan Puffins a 'n arferol buchedda 'ma had ar ôl achos 'r haf , do Gwna fetha Puff the Magic Puffin!


Ni arrived i mewn Dinbych-y-pysgod ar ôl am 5 horiau chan yn cerdded ( a yn aros choelbrennau achos yn rhoi arswyd ) Dinbych-y-pysgod – a seaside chynira dref achos 'r locals , ddiffygion 'r 'n gydwladol swanky glamour namyn has 'r i lawr at briddo jolly balfalu i mewn 'r dafarnau a 'r hystrydoedd , bechgynnos cyweiriedig i fyny at ddilyn bliant lawn bowling themed hwyr barti , blwc adlonasom ar bysgota n naddion & da 'n hen steak a mushroom bastai am a 'n lleol , a M-8 couldn't choelia am 'r yn dechrau achos caen o leiaf 3 'n amgen cuisines a 120 ddidol ddysglau acha 'r ddewislen.

Fi 'n sylweddol did ca blina yn cwblhau 'r bîr bwyedig benfras sy 'r size of my backpack!! Yn cael fethedig 'r bara bws chan 'r hwyr ( pryd dref s bara bws ydy am 1805: 'ch ve got at addef drawsgludo 'n brudd Dybia ) chymerasom a 'n rhad taxi bacia i lawr at Manobier , yn cymeryd 10 chofnodion at ca bacia at 'r yn dechrau chan 'n hike a took 5 horiau!!

Day 2: St David's & The Really Wild Food and Countryside Festival & Coastal Path #2

'n ddiau bit hychwaneg classier na Dinbych-y-pysgod St Dafydd s ydy Prydain s 'n lleiaf caer – ond caer amdani has a Cathedral. 'i 'n sylweddol ydy a 'n arddun cathedral , Fi 'n ddiau feddedig 'r unique farchog s beddau ag 'r 'n arddun canol - hoedau yn cerfio chan 'r yn cysgu farchogion ar warthaf 'n hwy beddau.

The Really Wild Food & Countryside Festival

Sylweddol Gwyllt Bau a Borthiant Chylchwyl was an 'n ardderchog showcase chan 'n draddodiadol , 'n organic a 'n dirf indigenous borthiant. Llonaid chan cellwair , gwrteithia , a sizzled ag 'n bêr arogla chan arafa arlwyedig 'n arddun 'n lleol cynhyrchedig borthiant. Cellwair achos fynnod ydy 'r hun o'r tylwyth teg angel arglwyddesau chan 'r an intriguing arddangos am bennog yn genweirio , a odiaeth 'n gyffrous , bwyall yn ergydio chydymgais a chwilota racing , ble M-8 a fi s hychydig underdog acha 'r gwyrdd diced eventually enilledig ni 50 pence.








http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eagle_Owl





Ferret Racing - where we won 50p - be patient with this video...


The Axe Throwing Competition

Coastal Path #2

Ni stocked i fyny acha Cymraeg Cacennau sweetish bath chan pikelette bethau ), flap jacks a a dasgu chan 'n organaidd gwynnwy chwisgi a a 'n fawr llymeitia chan latte chan 'r 'n lleol gwesty i mewn arlwy achos 'n eilia ddiwrnod chan hiking yn cychwyn ar ôl lunch. A 'n anhydwf rhodia chan dref chychwynasom chlosia 'r hôlion chlosia St Non's eglwys a tiny carega eglwys chan 'r 11th canrif – 'n amlwg achos 'r 'n gysegr-lân bydew i mewn 'i ardda a 'n amlwg chynhyrchion ddyfrha ag 'n anad yn iacháu alluoedd – oooooh laaa laa.

Fel Chrapiais feinedd bib i mewn 'r arawd hystafell. 'r golygfeydd was yn byddaru a 'n anghredadwy , a 'n amrywiadwy 'n amgen at doe hyd yn oed er 'i gostega ar 'n dal chlogwynau a hudai yn bugeila 'r eithaf fabolgampau boblogi – bod a ]n yn crogi off chortyn chan an agos vertical sigla , ai 'r dulathau i mewn 'n hwy precarious lestri yn brwydro 'r annwyd yn fferru forthcoming donnau. Eventually caem brycheuyn overlooking driban chan hynysoedd ble 'r brofedigaeth chan alfresco was jyst bit hefyd 'n bybyr at gwrthladd – ddiolch daioni neb daliedig ni! Ar ôl a hychydig dor acha cerddasom a chyfarfuom tussocks chan glasgoch , bincio a felyna blodeua shrubs o'r cychwyn , a cyffyrddedig ag gwyllt ceffylau yn campio acha 'r allt briga.















Bugeiliasom fel 'r awyr amliwia fel 'r bnawn waned i mewn i 'r chyflychwr. Caffai been am arall awr s cerdd siwrnai caem at namyn 'n ddiolchgar caem 'r bara gwasanaeth chan 'r Celtic Coaster Special Bus Ride. Hun bwyo farchoga bacia i mewn i dref jyst at fedda 'r 'n arddun fygedig bennog a M-8 ravili ag amgarn chan 'n bêr dyneredig afrod caws. YUMMMMMM!!

Day 3: Dinefwr Castle in Carmarthenshire
ble bendefigion chan 'r heibio i wedi gadael 'n hwy eiddo at bod ddisgwyliedig ar ôl at 'n glws boblogi. Newton D] – a yn rhybedio 'n fideo acha 'r buchedd chan 'r Cymraeg bendefigion a 'r ''underclass'' a sychedig a lleibiedig 'n hwy arses atyn. Bugeila 'm i mewn 'r gwin seler a yn ceisio at dadrys 'r ddewislen i mewn Cymraeg!! 'na aem off acha gwlyb hychydig hike i fyny at 'r 10th Canrif castella a 'n amlwg latter ddiwrnod gwigwyliau arferedig at chymer chyflea.


















Awron 'i been arailedig at cath!! Hun wee edrych ar arall 'n ddigrif castella a chymerasom 'r 'n glws a arafa 'n dri awr farchoga addef ble 'n ddiolchgar na chennym baedda - i fyny unrhyw arall deithwyr.

Birthday 1984

A treasured picture.
The word love didn't exist organically in our language, and it doesn't need to.

My grandfather passed away about two weeks ago. He is completely free from the pain and indignity brought upon by his body now, and like my sister said, 'don't be sad, he's gone to see grandma'. Its hard not to feel cut up. I hear blood seeping out of me sometimes, thinking of this permanent but inevitable loss. I have only really been able to write this down without choking. But this is all part of growing up, part of existence and experience. Life is only meaningful because there is death to end it.

Life in London @27 Weeks

Winter has bypassed autumn completely and has loomed London in a coat of grey. Darn. Why I continue to join 7.5million others in putting up with this weather still baffles me. Typically I am back on the IKEA foldout couch at Wendy & Deno’s in jolly old Dalston while I look for another dig to plonk myself in for the next little while. In any other circumstances living out of plastic bags would be a pretty dire situation for anybody - but I have found myself back into a busy routine of ever-ending after-work drinks, luncheons and picnics and dinners and festivals that it really doesn’t make a different what I live out of anymore. Alas!

I now make a 1hour 15 minute walking journey to work in Holborn through the melting pot of Clerkenwell Road and Grey Inns Road. People watching is at its best here – Londoners of all walks of life cross their paths here on foot, on bikes, and - but in an uncrowded and fairly succinct and ungrumpy way that I still get to observe their expressions, idiosyncrasies and their choice of attire quite closely. It adds a wonderful supplement to my current read – the hilarious Watching the English by Kate Fox.

On the days that rain (which is quite a few) I take the 243 bus (takes equally long as walking, would you believe). Sitting on the top of the double decker, every journey I have taken on this bus passes the bus stop on the corner of Kingsland Road and Old St in the middle of buzzing Shoreditch. I have been on a self-imposed 8 week alcohol break, and hence have a tendency to over-react when I see any signs of alcohol. I am irritated by the site of two cans of Fosters beer that’s been sitting on the top of the bus stop canopy for as long as I remember taking the 243. a) I wonder how it got there at the first place and b) I am really surprised that no one had gotten to it in a bout of desperation already. Does this say something about how unresourceful drunks are in London or does this say something about the quality of Fosters?

Flat hunting was a bit shit to start with. Because of the transient nature of London, and how busy young professionals are, its very hard to find a kiwi-style flat where there is a communal feel to the household. Many lodgements are maisonettes where the tenants have individual leases with the landlord, have their own locked rooms and share a common bathroom and a kitchen, like a guest house arrangement almost. It basically makes the place very sterile and not-looked after because no body’s really taking care of each other or a communal shared space. None of the other tenants would be interested in who the next person who moved in would be and naturally they’re not there to meet you. And then there’s other places where the location is so bloody fantastic that it doesn’t matter how run down or dirty the house it. I literally tripped over dirty underwear in the hall way of one of the flats, that had 2 years worth of grease in the kitchen and more years worth of mould in the bathroom. To add to the insult, the incumbent tenant appeared to be doing some sort of psycho-sexual scientific experiment in the room – it had torn rubber gloves all over the floor and stuck on the walls, and there are strange looking white powder and paint scattered all over the place. The agent of the landlord, unshaven, and dressed in ripped track suit pants with his beer belly pouring out resembling someone who would be desperate enough to take out those Fosters beers on top of the bus canopy, was completely unembarrassed by the condition of the house. “Call me darling, if you’re interested.” he said.

Thankfully after a painstaking search I have found a lovely little place just off Old St near the park and canal, and only 10 minutes walk to the thick of the exciting nightlife in Shoreditch and Brick Lane. I will be sharing my tiny little haven with a balcony with a Mexican robot inventor (Emma says I only want to live with him because it sounds nice on my blog) and two Polish sisters, one an accountant and the other a student. It was pretty much sold when the ad specifically asked for someone who will be there to be part of the house and no someone who’s there only to sleep. Why is this something so hard?? and when I saw the plate of biscuits they prepared for the open-house visitors I knew that I have found, finally, somewhere I would feel at home and part of. First of September, in the diary.

Other updates:

• My grandpa is still in hospital (but a different one – he had to move due to health insurance) and apparently not getting better or worse… it’s a little frustrating esp now that my poor aunties and uncles have to commute a lot further, by Dad will be back for mid autumn festival to spend time with him which is good.
  
• My M-8 has gone travelling full time before he heads home in November ;-( Its sad to not have him at my greasy little fingertips, but I will be meeting up with him in Wales this weekend for some nice hikes and then in Croatia for some sun in late September, so its not all bad is it!!
  
• Stupidly I scheduled Dublin in during my self-imposed alcohol break, because I was quite inspired by the fact that my boss had managed to do a work trip there on Ryan air for £18 all up. (my ended up being £68 – talk about discrimination) but I am sure I will survive the temptation of whiskies and guinness’s… I hope…
  
• And there’s finally been an update on the food blog for those that can’t handle this one!!

The Sheltering Sky

"How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless."
– Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

A-Gong’s room at the hospice overlooks a lush green hill with a little road through it that is frequented by bicycles. Post-typhoon weather is still a little windy but the sun is pretty much always out and in the last 10 years, the pollution in Taipei has dramatically reduced so the sky can be very clear on a breezy summer’s day like this.

I’ve been coming the hospice every single day since I got in last Monday night. A-Gong is basically asleep most of the time, and is pretty much too weak to get up by himself and can now hardly talk or eat solid food. He is often wearing an oxygen mask and he has several tubes stuck inside him, every move seems so hard and painful, and we feed him mashed fruit and vegetables through a syringe. He laps in and out of consciousness, but every time he sees me or my sister or one of my cousins he always squeeze us a huge warm smile. On a good day he’d say something cheeky or pull a funny face, and make fun of things. Despite being bed ridden, I think he is generally in a really good spirit, and has an incredible amount of will to keep going and hold on. Although sometimes I wish he didn’t have to put up with all the physical discomforts he is in, who is to tell me that he isn’t in a fit mental condition to embrace what he still see as being beautiful in this world? We all know that nothing is limitless.

Though we don’t get to interact much in terms of chatting very much any more, I feel that its given me so much relief and comfort just being here with him and keeping him company. My family will never be the same again, but I feel that I am really happy with the way things went in the last two weeks. Its been a mostly happy and quality time I’ve spent here. I’ve had so much time to remember and reflect and think about the values and legacies he’s passed onto me and my family. If there is anything called closure, this may be it.

I leave in two days time, flying all the way back to London to the rat race again, carrying on the way it was, as if time just froze for 13 days. Back to the alternative universe that I live in when I am surrounded by ‘Western’ people and where I continue to carve out a path on my own that just seems so strange and lonely to my family who are always just so ready to offer me love and protection. I don’t know what it is about me that just can’t keep still.

Anyway I’ve had some time to update the blog: if you’re interested there are photos etc from the camping weekend in Wiltshire, a mystery weekend along the Kennet-Avon canal & Bath, my One-Woman invasion of Normandy, hiking in Somerset and Cheddar Gorge, and a wild Roller Disco night out in Vauxhall.

See you back in London.

The Trip I've Dreaded All My Life To Take

So here I am, on a tarmak in Bangkok Airport, on my way back to Taipei. Ah Gong (my Grandfather)’s illness had gotten gradually worse and it is time for me to go home and be with him.

Death is a taboo in my culture, and especially in my family. It is only talked about by being implied, in euphemisms, hypotheses, analogies. I wish it was different but I don’t know any other way. So I have a problem confronting it, I feel immense pressure thinking about it, and I will have problems dealing with it. This is a difficult journey for me, every part of me hurts.

I’ve spent the last month or so being distressed as well as disengaged and displaced, there’s just been way too many distractions coming from different directions. I haven’t had time or the space to think ahead or think clearly. Although it was hard to pull myself away from London, at the same time, it will do me good, just some time with my family, some time away from the bustle, and stop procrastinating on dealing with the knots in my head. I am due back in two weeks, though I wish I could have more – I just hope I will get something out of it.

Spending half of my net worth on a plane ticket and it still isn’t even a direct flight. Fuck it! Battling my way through the chaos and bureaucratic incompetence that is Heathrow, I realised that I have picked up the unattractive English traits of grumpiness, impatience and sheer irreverence. But I haven’t felt the urge of taking it out on the strangers sitting next to me or those that are ‘just doing their job’ – so it looks like I still have self control.

The closer to home I get the more gloomy it feels. Bangkok is humid, dusty and grey and brown on this airy summer’s day, clouds are so low it feels like they are choking me. There is no space between earth and sky, thinking about the rest of my journey, I just can’t breath right now. Taipei is in fact in the middle of a massive typhoon and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get in at all today. I don’t have an appetite for a pina colada, a prawn curry in lemon grass or a packet of individually wrapped durian candies. I just want to get home, be with people I should be with when they need me, and stop procrastinating from looking at my challenges in the eye.

Some Boys Do Have'm

Rolling Rolling Rolling

There is something for everyone in London. Basically that’s what makes it a little bit bizarre. Yet when you walk into this place it just seems absolutely normal, and you genuinely believe that this is what your every Joe and Josephine would do every single weekend after they knock off from Happy Hour.

Take 500 people dressed in highlighted lycra, tutus, hot pants, afros, glitter, etc etc etc team it with flashing roller blades (not blades) and a dash of beer and a DJ or two, throw them into two rings (one slow for the less suicidal and one fast for the show-offs) and dim the lights – hey presto YOU’VE GOT ROLLAAAHHHH DISSCCOOOOOOHHHH!

For an unusual but extremely fun night out - check it out: http://www.renaissancerooms.co.uk/?section=club&action=home

Mystic Frequencies

England's actually just one big treasure hunt. This weekend M-8 and I tinked around Somerset, an area which gave birth to the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Tables, and ofcourse, the home of hippy heartland Glastonbury, and a whole lot more when you look hard enough.

Stourhead Estate
It kind of amazes me how much money these people had back in those days to landscape design this entire area covering 11km2 previously fully owned by the Hoare family, now owned by the National Trust.
Apart from the main house which was of course luxuriously beautiful and more than enough for a family and all their servants, the property is fully equipped with its own hunting area, lake, Temple to Apollo, a water cave next to the lake (with its own nymph, and once upon a time billeted a hermit just to amuse garden-walking guests).

The state even had a ‘pet project’ on the side - a huge tall tower, also a ‘folly’ building with no reason) Alfred Tower (to commemorate the first ever English King) – a classic Rupunzel kind of tower a few miles from the main house. There’s about 200 Steps to the top (thanks to the young wholesome scouts there at the same time who counted for us) and in the panoramic views you can get a glimpse of Glastonbury Tor and a whole lot of stuff like bush walking people. Just no princes in sight…

Glastonbury & Glastonbury Tor
Glastonbury is a cute little town, but it’s become over the years a little bit more faux-bo than genuinely hippy. Its quaint I suppose, with the main street floating along with a relaxed atmosphere and randomly painted old buildings, but it’s a little overrun by shops that try to sell crystal balls made in China and woven wall hangings with American Indian chief against a fading rainbows that are just plain scary. We had a quick meal in the overgrown garden of an endearing little vego café, which M-8 overheard a conversation about how one of the ladies in the next table has recently acquired a flatmate in the form of ‘an Australian Goddess’ – “but she’s a bit ‘out-there’ and unpredictable, I don’t know how to handle her”.



We headed up to Glastonbury Tor, the huge hill towering over the town. Back in the days where the low lands used to be flooded, it was an island. The 10th century tower of St Michael sits at the summit (some claimed that King Arthur and Guinevere was once buried here) and it’s a windy climb up to the top through random little gems like a Tibetan meditation house and traces of spiritual practices we would never ever know about - could this be the remains of the Glastonbury Thorn that I am Tai-Chi-ing to?

Cheddar Gorge
On Sunday, with the reward of visiting the cheese house and a pub meal in mind, we tackled Cheddar Gorge, which is the largest gorge in the UK. I consider myself pretty fit for my age, though trying to keep up with M-8 who does half marathons and triathlons is a slight challenge. The rock formations and the way it lines the cliffs changes from each different angle and height we reach, and the scenery changes from deep green bushes to open grasslands to hilltop views of Somerset and its water reservoirs. Believe me – IT IS BEAUTIFUL OUT THERE. Having to swarm through the tubes and tiny streets of London from Mondays to Fridays, sometimes the sheer amount of green space and natural heritage England has within the stone throw of big cities really amazes me.

And this is the famous Cheddar Cat

Gold Hill in Shaftsbury
We passed by Shaftsbury on the way back to Salisbury and checked out the gorgeous and well-aged sloping street of Gold Hill over a cup of coffee in the prime seat of the café over looking the slope. We had a lovely chat with a WWII paratrooper (who is ’92 and never been kissed’) and his eccentric family & their old dog.


Old Wardour Castle
The weekend wrapped up nicely with a sunset visit to the hauntingly beautiful Old Wardour Castle (as featured in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves). This is probably my favourite castle in England so far because the setting is really quite tranquil and delicate like a landscaped Edwardian estate, rather than in a bleak and rustic atmosphere that reminds one of warlords and marching horses, yet it retains a medieval appeal with the its strong entrance towers, giant windows and spiral stairs. It has a wonderful festive feel in the sunset against its open lawns, which does somewhat take you back into the days when women pranced around with veils draped on horns on their heads and a heavy chastity belt around their poor little pelvises. Only if I could convince M-8 into wearing tights!!!

Easy Come Easy Go - Two Halls of Fame

Boarders Hall of Fame - by Victoria

Keiko 1993 - Japanese girl, language student, very shy and obedient but managed to take home a rich Jewish man. She was so clean and respectful. She was so slim and gentle and walked like a real lady. Wonderful girl, just wonderful. Sends me tea in a pretty jar, little individually wrapped sweets in pretty little boxes, tiny strings of paper cranes of pretty colours and pictures of her baby. She invites me to stay with her in Japan all the time, no one of my boarders can ever be the same. From then on I only take Japanese girls. Or those close enough.

Rie 1999 - Japanese girl, air hostess, perfect hair and make up, very slim. Caught the Heathrow Express home every three days or so. I never saw her all year, we hardly ever spoke. And then I invited her to my millennium New Years Eve Party, so she gets me very drunk in the afternoon before the guests got here, so of course I was passed out. She didn't even bother to wake me up when they all arrived, and then they ate all the food and drank all the wine while I was asleep in the bedroom. When I woke up at 4am there were only chicken bones and empty wine bottles on the floor and she was giggling away in a ball gown with two of my friends. Oh my God I was Mad! Did she not have the brain to wake me up? It was the most important evening of the entire millennium!!

Kumiko 2001 - Japanese girl, theatre manager. Very melodramatic. She was always singing some awful music and reciting something. I think she might be schzisophrenic. She learnt to speak fluent Italian from me in only three months, I am a good teacher. She flushed a sanitary pad down the toilet and costed me 600 pounds to fix it. The bloody thing.

Hae-Jyoo 2007 - Korean girl, fashion designer, sharp dresser. Had so many gay boyfriends I can't count with my hands and feet combined. She was on a disgusting dried fish diet. She boiled these dried fish and squid so hard that it stank out my house for three days. Even the neighbours complained to me. My GOD it was AWFUL!! I banned her from going into the kitchen after that.

WaWa 2008 - Taiwanese girl from New Zealand. She was a bit unruly and had some really strange ideas. Very very outgoing, a party animal, she was never home. I can't make her sit down for one second before she is off again. I need to teach her how to be more classy. I wish she didn't have big long black hairs that fell on my sparkly shiny white bathroom floor, otherwise she would be perfect. She broke every rule I had, especially the number 1 rule. She didn't know that I knew she broke it within the first three weeks. But let by-gones be by-gones. Oh boy it will be so boring without her.

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Flatmates Hall of Fame - by WaWa

No. 12 (House 3 - Wellington 2000) Over-board Politically Correct vegan militant activist. But he was man enough to cry. Punished me for buying non-organic tomatoes for a dollar a bag. Pissed on our vege patch for natural plant nutrition enhancement. Made me greet him and all our house guests in Maori despite the fact that none of us were Maori. Not that I minded greeting in Maori, its just that I hate anything that's compulsory. He had a twin brother, and almost all his friends were either twins of half of a set of twins. Quite bizarre. When his girlfriend stayed over they would bang four times a night, with our lopsided house shaking and the uneven wooden floorboards screeching like mad. I feared for my life.

No. 18 (House 6: Wellington 2002) Part time racing car driver, full time Lord of the Rings crew type lad. Keeper of the illegally fitted warehouse which up to 8 of us lived in at a time. Had a van which the local red light district girls named 'The Love Boat'. Always covered in some sort of mud (him, not the van, which he kept in a pristine condition). Drank at the Sports Cafe and scored loads of chicks that resembled Chloe of Wainuiomata that really did sound like lap dogs when they banged, but complained ferociously if any one else brought a loud screw home.


No. 24 & 25 (House 6: Wellington 2003) Adorable Scottish lesbians that lied about their age and professions and sexual orientation just so they could live with us. Of course we all found out the dirty truth within 3 days and made them clean the house so we won't hand them over to the Christian Heritage Party. Banged each other all day all night, drank awful cask wine, never understood a single word either of them said, except "Gangsta". Went off driving around NZ in a $300 car. Never saw them again after that.

No. 35 (House 10: Canberra 2004) Young croupier at the local casino who slept during the day and biked to work at 10pm. She had a long distant open relationship with a magician on a cruise ship. Sweet tooth - was addicted to fat and sugar, she had the unhealthiest food like baked marshmallow pie and triple chocolate jam sandwiches. She had a terrible penchant for snatching the virginity off 20 something IT geeks (5 of them in the 3 months she lived with us).

No. 44 (House 12: Canberra 2005) Gentle well-meant Chinese PhD student. Once he hurled a bucketful of rotten cabbage across the fence into the neighbour's garden. My other flatmate took him over to apologise. On another occasion he called me fat and told me to stop eating at a dinner party. My other flatmate made him apologise to me too, I felt a bit bad when he seriously realised that he had broken a social taboo. He borrowed a hair trimming kit from a friend once and asked me to cut his hair for him - I turned it down several times because I honestly can't even trim my own nails properly let alone cut some one else's hair. But he was so insistent, so I did and the result was a mixture between Nobita Kun from Doraemon and Bart Simpson. He was quite sweet with a childlike innocence and so animated, that I have no doubt one of the Olympics Friendlies was based on him. To our relief he never had any sex as far as I know, as his fiance was waiting for him back home. Oohhh~~.

No. 50 - (House 14: London 2008) Crazy eccentric lonely old woman who have had a very interesting life growing up in Ethiopia and Italy. Her life sounded like a thriller novel, but I think the trauma and ups and downs she has experiences going from riches to rags to riches again has really done her head in. She needs to learn to relax a little and think about issues from other people's perspectives, because no one else is ever right. I just couldn't stand the double standards she has. Apart from being a bit overboard about how clean the bathroom should be, she was quite paranoid about security, so apart from the apartment door card, she has three locks on her door, plus a latch, plus she leaves one of the keys inside the key hole, and then she also locks her bedroom door at night. I am just hoping I am never trapped in here during a fire!! But we had a lot of fun together, I loved her food and she was always feeding me interesting things. She had a fantastic shisha as well and we smoked a lot of apple tobacco together. If she let go of some of those emotional baggage I think life will be much more beautiful for her. Relax man! She claimed she had not had sex in 13 years, but I can't count the number of times I've noticed female friends sharing her bed after a hard core drinking session. One time one of them 'mistook my bedroom as the bathroom' - rivetting experience at 5 o'clock in the morning. Maybe she's a dark horse after all.

Otherwise Preoccupied: Life in London @ 20 weeks

Ahhhh --- the 1st of July. Where did time go? I've just been so terribly busy with leading a full on hectic schedule of summer fun-ness in the grand city, more bits of weekend travelling, coping with daily routined administration and various challenges that wonder out of the blue. Updates in June to come below re camping in Wiltshire, mystery weekend along the canals, my one-woman reenactment of the D-Day landings in Normandy, and generally blissful summer life.

Family
I certainly feel a lot more relaxed at the moment than I had been in the last week or two, where my life had been knocked out of tune with the bad news that my grandfather had been hospitalised again, this time being in the worst state he had been in for a while. I had made arrangements to take leave and book tickets for Taipei, when I heard that he would pull through after all. For the first few days honestly I constantly felt so upset that I was nauseous, the thought of possibly losing him and being so far away from my family, my entire body aching and shivering with worry and guilt and uncertainty. Also what to do with the new contract I've just been negotiating at work, whether to just give it up and leave everything here and go. Thanks to my grandfather's lucky stars things are settling a little more, but I am still vigilant and I am ready to head back any time they need me. He really is a cat with 81 lives. I wish I could be half as tenacious as he is. ** bless you A Gong **

Work
Anyway. Phewww. So looks like work will offer me some more employment that will stretch me up till Christmas. It will mean less holidays and travels for the mean time, but a little more income and stability on my CV for the interim.

Housing
I am also moving out and moving on from Vicky's designer heritage listed apartment in Bayswater. As much as we enjoy a good yarn with each other, I am just not sure if I am mentally capable of managing her unpredictable mood swings and intense possessiveness. I need space, freedom from being constantly advised about everything, and the chance to feel relaxed in my own home and my own skin. My tolerance just ran out. I can't continue to be the grandchild she never had. I mean, I still maintain that she is one of the most interesting people I've ever met, and I have learnt so much stuff and changed a lot of my ways of thinking and behaviour because of her, but it is time to return to a life of normalcy, with people my own age, who are just a little bit more chilled and have less emotional baggage than some one that is basically the narrator of the 'I've Never Been to Me' song.

Boy
Another big development in my life is that since May I've been in a relationship with M-8, an unlikely suitor who is completely different to the type of guys I'd usually go for (OK, apart from being a little camp which is what I've always liked), but I just adore him. He is an extremely lively and energetic individual with boundless energy, guided by a quirky thought processes and an encyclopedia of irreverent jokes. A seductively trim triathlete when he's not at his desk job, he lives as fast as he swims/bikes/runs, basically always living about 15 minutes ahead of the rest of the world, it spins my head (in a really nice way) just to keep up with him and keep him entertained. We started off taking things really easily, considering that we are both at a very transient stage of our respective lives, and so its been very easy-going being in a fairly low-maintenance relationship where we are both very independent. I think it is rolling along nicely, but perhaps too nicely. I think it might be time soon for us to amp it up a notch. I think we are both capable of making this a much more intellectually challenging venture, give it a bit more intensity and grip. One of us at least needs to play up soon. Be more manipulative, be more demanding, be jealous, be immature, be insecure, be a little more serious, fall hopelessly in love. ..

yah.