I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to Christmas, so I apologise to those to whom I have made positive noises to when I asked if I’m looking forward to Christmas. Ideally either today or tomorrow I should be on a train back to Llanelli – but I’m not. Due to the increase in fuel prices and the increase in train fares I’m staying put, somebody (naming no names) whenever I turn the heating off switches it back on again, money I could have bought my train tickets with will now end up in the hands of British Gas. It would have been so nice to go home, see my parents, see my brother, his wife and their children, the two youngest still believe that Father Christmas will come during the night, so stuck up here without my parents and small children that appreciate Christmas. However tomorrow brings it’s very own dreads, firstly Sasha has a trip to the vet, Sasha has over the last few weeks has been gradually declining, her new practice of hiding is somewhat worrying considering firstly that last month the vet believed that Sasha would have weeks left to live and that when cats feel that the end is near for them go into hiding to die so whenever she hides herself away I start to worry. I really don’t want to be burying her on my birthday or Christmas day. Tomorrow also I have a dentist appointment, I’ve been grinding my teeth quite badly, but that’s not the problem I’ve had a large mouth ulcer at the back of my mouth for about 3 weeks now and there’s something strange going on in the back of my mouth. Then it’s my Birthday, yipeee! – NOT!!! I won’t be 37 anymore I’ll be 38, another year closer to 40, no closer to fulfilling any of my life’s goals. Thanks Tourette’s syndrome, thanks my low self-esteem.
I wish also that Christmas day would come and go swiftly, last year was pretty awful. tourettes-action.healthunlo... I don’t expect much better, yesterday we went to Tescos, I nearly walked out after my nearest and dearest was making feel like a complete idiot “F***ING DUMMY!!” this could be bad, but it's much worse when eveyone in Coventry seems to be watching you and your tics too.
Somehow a whole load of Kromenberg has appeared under the kitchen table. My other half has an unbearable trait, even his mother has recognised this “he’s a nasty so-and-so when he’s been drinking, just like my dad” his mum was one of 13, a least I haven’t been hit, slapped, thumped or locked in any cupboards yet. The resentment towards me and the annoying tics that I have is growing, also the resentment towards the fact that for the last couple of years I haven’t been able to keep him in the way he was used to, me teaching, him…….err….Roll on Boxing day.
I know it was quite a while ago now but here’s a poem that I found for National Poetry day – I didn’t write it Max Boyce did, my reading of it went down well. Perfect if you come from Llanelli.
9 – 3
Twas on a dark and dismal day in a week that had seen rain,
When all roads led to Stradey Park with the All Blacks here again,
they poured down from the valleys, they came from far and wide,
There were 50,000 in the ground and me and Dai outside.
The shops were closed like Sunday and the streets were silent still,
And those who chose to stay away were either dead or ill,
But those who went to Stradey park will remember till they die,
How New Zealand Were defeated and how the pubs ran dry.
Oh the beer flowed at Stradey, piped down from Felinfoel,
And the hands that held the glasses high were strong from steel and coal,
the air was filled with singing and I heard a grown man cry,
Not because we'd won but because the pubs ran dry.
Then dawned the morning after, on empty factories,
For we were still at Stradey, bloodshot absentees,
But we all had doctors papers and they all said just the same,
that we all had Scarlet fever and we caught it at the game.
Now all the little babies in Llanelli from now on,
Will be Christened Roy or Carwyn, Derek, Delme, Phil or John,
And in a hundred years from now they'll sing a song for me,
About that day the scoreboard read Llanelli 9- Seland Newydd 3.
And when I grow old, my hair turns grey and they put me in a chair,
I'll tell my great grandchildren that their Datcu was there.
And they'll ask to hear the story of that dark October day,
When I went down to Stradey park and I saw the Scarlets play.
The only thing in the pictures that comes from Llanelli are the Quinnells. They're so tall I only come up to Craig Quinnell's waist!