Croeso

And lo did it come to pass that the English were let back into Wales, there to visit the properties they own and in respect of which they dutifully pay inflated Council Tax charges. One of the little commented upon effects of Coronavirus has been that this virus has achieved what Plaid Cymru have so signally failed to achieve and Wales has stood lonely and peopled mainly by the Welsh. Now I know that those two preceding sentences exaggerate the position a little but there is a kernel of truth in there and so it was lovely to be able to be back in the land of my fathers, for all its botherations a beautiful place. The cares fell off my shoulders (what cares you prat, you don't even work - yes but I feel things insensibly) as I pulled back the blinds in Casa Piggy Cymraeg (as the country estate will henceforth be known) and saw the magnificence of the ocean. I love Ynys Mon. While I think about it a large shout out to our neighbour NH who kept an eye on things while we were banned from visiting.

Big Fat Pig was very virtuous on this visit (of the flying variety, just two nights) - yesterday morning he donned his lycra and his Oakleys and meandered at what passes for running pace around Benllech before heading off up the A5025 and getting all the way to Moelfre, whence he returned and satisfied the aim of a ninety minute excursion. This morning, before a breakfast of toast and honey, he headed towards Red Wharf Bay in a half hour burst of energy. All very gratifying especially since BFP stayed off the booze despite the siren call of the bottles stashed in the utility. This is the age of the diminishing Pig.

The Pig tends to favour easier reading when at Casa Piggy Cymraeg, thus did he pull from the shelf Cardinal of the Kremlin by Tom Clancy - a discarded hospital library copy liberated from a dusty bookshop shelf for a princely one pound. Clancy is by way of the Pig's guilty literary secret. The writing is sometimes risible but boy does Clancy do plots and the Pig has to say that he found it easier going than the Thomas Hardy that continues to vex him back here at the main Casa Piggy.

One mild disappointment  - last night I watched Withnail and I, a film about which people rave. Perhaps its moment has long since passed and the trope of men behaving badly has exhausted itself. I found it mildly amusing but, sorry, not a thing of cinematic genius. Oh well, what do I know? 63/100. 

Quiet Nights In

The country yesterday took its biggest step yet towards emerging blinking into the daylight of normality (I was toying with 'normalcy' there but decided that it is too transatlantic) - this giant leap for British mankind was the reopening of the pubs. The police were on full alert apparently. The Roberts family (we have Daughter Number 1 here with us this week) opted for a night in but we did greatly enjoy fish and chips ordered online (click and collect) and collected from the estimable Mere Green Chippy.

Last week we had re-watched Inception - the third time of asking for me. Visually stunning and with a thunderous score this is a tour-de-force from director Christopher Nolan. Due deference to DN1 is needed here and I must point out that Nolan read English at her alma mater University College London. We will generously forgive them both this defect. This is a film which is a feast for the eyes but one does also have to concentrate because the plot is labyrinthine - there is much play with levels of consciousness, dreams within dreams within dreams and onwards down as in a hall of mirrors. On third viewing I think it made more sense to me. Highly recommended. 81/100.

I mention our choice of viewing because yesterday evening (after the chips) we fired up the neglected big screen upstairs (when we bought it it was expensive state of the art, now it is unexceptional) and watched a very different movie, Greenbook. The fact that this won Best Picture at the Oscars might usually disconcert me but, no, this is a bloody good film. Its two stars, Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali, are on brilliant form and, yes alright, it does sometimes tip into the sentimental but its message of racial tolerance and friendship is uplifting. Catch it if you can. 88/100. 

Big Fat Pig In Anniversary Crash

It's wedding anniversary number thirty-six for BFP and the Groupie, the day when everyone asks why the hell does she put up with him.

The Pig (whose keep/get fit programme is still going strong) decided to mark the day with a long cycle ride - in Pig language that means two and a half hours on the road. Today he took on four climbs in his route and was feeling quite pleased as he coasted back to Casa Piggy with the clock ticking down to the allotted time. He arrived at the head of the road with thirty seconds left and therefore decided (stupid completist that he is) to throw in a tiny detour and u-turn to ensure the time was all used. It was the u-turn that brought about the crash, the Pig foolishly thinking he could match the turning circle of a London cab. He can't. End result: kerb clipped, slow motion crash and Pig lying on the pavement with the Precious Bike on top of him. Damage seems to be limited to the cosmetic (both Pig and more importantly Precious Bike) though the scars on knee and elbow look quite impressive. The Pig was helped to his feet by a nearby labourer who had witnessed the crash. He was kind enough not to offer the obvious advice that someone of the Pig's advanced years might want to be more careful.

And here's the thing. Some daft auto-pilot clicks in on such occasions - the Pig remembered to stop his watch as he lay on the pavement. Two hours, thirty minutes and forty seconds. Mission accomplished.  

An Amiable Bloodbath

Shaun of the Dead is a nice punning title and this dark comedy nods its head very affectionately at the zombie genre. Heads are severed and battered and, quite properly for this very English piece, our shambolic hero defends himself for much of the film with a cricket bat.

Among a certain generation this movie (for so they would term it) attracts rave reviews. That is a tad de trop but it is consistently funny and well played by a roll call of English acting excellence. 62/100.

Of Good Fellowship And An Unknown Friend

It didn't just rain last week, it bloody poured. It should have been the week of the QMT golf tour but coronavirus obviously put paid to that. In its place BH was at the helm of organising a three day festival of local golf - Wednesday Aston Wood, Thursday Lickey Hills, and Friday Pype Hayes. Most particularly on the first two days we got thoroughly soaked, indeed at Aston Wood the lightning forced us off the course early. Despite the vagaries of the English summer a good time was had by all. Thanks Brian.

Lickey Hills (pictured) was a revelation to me - like Pype Hayes a public course free from any airs and graces and very pretty to look at. I thought it a good test of my geriatric game and despite the constant downpour I played one of my best rounds in an eternity. We shall return. Thanks to JRS and MS for keeping me company - walking off after nine in those conditions would have been perfectly understandable but I was playing quite passably so they kept me company.

And as for my unknown friend, well that is whoever found and handed in my wedge at Pype Hayes - I only noticed its loss this morning but it was safely stowed in the stockroom at Pype Hayes. Faith in human nature duly refreshed.

Brave New World

I'm afraid my title is ironic, as it was for Huxley and, in the original, also for Shakespeare.

Lawrence of Arabia is being shown on Sky Movies this afternoon. A geat film I hope you might agree. The good people at Sky in their summary of the movie can manage only the following craven and mealy-mouthed words:

This film has outdated attitudes, language and cultural depictions which may cause offence today.

WTF as the kids say.

A Not Unsatisfactory Day

Did you like the double negative? It's something David Gower favours in his cricket commentaries and although it can seem a trifle affected I think it's not unacceptable to mimic one's heroes.

The day to which I refer is the immediate past Saturday. I was on the first tee at Pype Hayes at 7.14 to play with BH and my little brother WJR. The weather forecast for the day had been pretty dire but along the lines of the sun shining on the righteous (I accept on reflection that any reference to BH, WJR and the Pig as righteous might be stretching it) it proved perfect golfing weather - not too hot and a gentle breeze to keep it interesting. As it happened I played a tad worse than earlier in the week but not so badly as to prompt despondency. The company was matchless and we got round in a little over three hours without ever having to wait over a shot and without causing anyone behind us to wait - would that it were always so.

After a socially distanced chat with the lads I was back home by half eleven and after a brief interval and a cup of not unimpressive coffee (Kenyan) I was out mowing the lawn with the not unprecious mower. Now here I have to confess an error - I don't know what flitted across my consciousness but I lost my sense of direction and cut an errant stripe. It doesn't look too bad but I, of course, can see it. Oh well it is nice to have goals, so next time I will get it right. The search for lawn perfection keeps me young.

Golf done, lawn mowed, I was soon able to treat myself to a not inelegant glass of 2016 Primitivo. Wine really does taste better if you make yourself wait until the weekend. If, dear reader, you have shares in Majestic Wine you might want to sell them now that the Pig is spending rather less there than had become habitual.

A day such as Saturday deserves to be rounded off by a good film. Well, Pig and the Groupie did not in all truth watch a good film but we did watch the not unentertaining Angel has Fallen. If you have seen either of the previous two entries from this stable, Olympus has Fallen, and London has Fallen, you will not be surprised to learn that the baddies make an attempt on the President's life and it falls to Gerard Butler single-handedly to bring them to account. Silly, violent, profane but not borne down by a sense of its own importance, I like films like this when I'm in the mood. Saturday was such a day. Oh and it has a slight but amusing final scene. 52/100.

So all in all and as I say, not unsatisfactory.