Epic As An Adjective And Other Exercises In Writing

A weekend of sunshine on the island as the Pig enjoyed a brief break at Plas Piggy. Now as you know, the Pig is well down with the kids and he therefore wants to describe the weekend as epic.

Those of you who have been paying attention for the decade and a half that the Pig has been writing this guff, will know that another adjective is also pretty important - 'precious', as in the Precious Jag, the Precious Petrol Mower, and the Precious Bike. Well here's another entry to the Piggy Hall of Fame - the Precious Drain Rods. These got an ultimately epic outing on Friday evening. The enjoyment of using rods is in direct proportion to the scale of the blockage under attack. Unless you have done it, you cannot comprehend the adrenaline rush that comes at the point of rodded release of a major shitberg - though prose of the same quality as what this sentence is, gives you a pretty good idea. The Pig even made a trip to Screwfix in Llangefni to add a new tool to his set of Precious Rods. Behold the Bailey drop scraper.

 

Pretty exciting I'm sure you'd agree. But there was more and here you will see how clever the Pig is being with his vocabulary - because as he enjoyed an epic high tea of tinned hot dogs in appropriate finger rolls, he watched a film that can accurately be described as an epic - you see that's a noun! The film in question is not epic in its artistic attainment but is epic in scale and ambition. Nicholas and Alexandra may be a tad plodding at points but as a dramatic primer on the retreat of Mother Russia from the divine right of kings it seves very well. 68/100. 

And on the way home the Pig listened to Steely Dan. Epic.

To Hell In A Handcart

That's the way the world is going but there's no spiritual profit in saying it anymore. Everyone can tell we're absolutely buggered and there's no novel spin I can bring to bear. It is all souring my mood so I'm going to change the subject.

I'm listening to Seventh Sojourn, the 1972 Moody Blues album. This is making me feel all nostalgic for that other dire political decade and it reminds me that I had a bloody great time in the 70s despite all the degaradations that life chucked at us. So I'm trying to be positive and I'm going to walk on the sunny side of the street. In that spirit I have been running again and I was like one of those boxers toiling to make the weight - I had put on my rainproof jacket (didn't need it as things turned out) so ended up sweating like a Big Fat Tonky Pig. I'll tell you what, water tastes bleeding lovely when you've been for a run. Water as soon as I finish the run, then a shower and a cup of damned fine coffee after that. Next on the menu could be some red wine but it's s a bit early yet.

What else can I tell you? Rugby - an exuberant start to the Aviva Premiership with high skills and high ambition on display. This bodes well. Also exuberant are the Currie Cup in South Africa and the NPC in New Zealand, but where oh where are the crowds? So far as one can judge there's no bugger turning up to watch, which, in rugby's bible belts, does not bode well.

I'm going to forswear the red wine just for the next couple of hours but might have a slug with the pork steaks I'm cooking for tea - plain grilled with steamed vegetables. Less is more.

Rest in peace Walter Becker who passed recently. Half of the brilliance that was Steely Dan - another reason to view the 70s with affection.