From enemy to friend in two laps.

I've had a two day binge of old xbox games which has just come to an end. Im mighty glad i must say. 

Before i started I tidied my room all spick and span as to mildly justify the act of sloth that i was about to perform. (though there was no performance, except for on my TV screen) I will say, the room is still as spick and span. which is a good thing. My boundless inactivity has preserved the integrity of my room.

That one thing and the fact that I was gaming are the only pro’s of the last two days. Oh, and podcasts. Lots of podcasts.

The cons include a throbbing headache on the left side of my head, a sore neck as the Tv’s high in the corner of my room, and a numb mind.

Was it worth it? YES!

All i did in my spare time was look up in the corner of my room and playing a game, whilst laughing at podcasts every now and again. I told myself that not getting up was the “point” and i was sticking to my guns.

There was one time last night where I wanted to get up, though.

While I was cleaning my room I had made an enemy of a previously hidden tenant of my room. A 6-7cm spider (back toe to front toe) who’d set up shop in the corner behind the television. There were too many obstacles between us for me to grab it and maroon it in the unknown beyond my window. Lucky spider.

At about ten-o-clock every night it pops out of it’s little web-hut and creeps around the the room by the roof. It slowly does a lap around the room between 10pm and 2am. I was always completely aware of where this octo-legged monster was at all times when it crept about. However it never veered away from the corner where the wall hits the celling.

Until last night.

Wrex, which is what i decided to name it, did it’s usual lap in it’s anti-clockwise fashion around the room until it hit the curtain. I was always a little more tense when it was above my head as i had to move my neck to look at it when my game took a boring turn. Moving my neck defeated the purpose of my lazy two nights but i was constantly fascinated and an incy-wincy bit nervous.

So it reached the curtain and actually mounted the curtain pole, which wasn’t protocol. By the celling ALWAYS BY THE CELLING! It wasn't listening to my thoughts. No. It was creeping it’s way down the curtain until about half way, when it started getting closer to me. It had previously spun a web connecting the curtain to my guitar case, which it sat on for a while, watching me.

GET OFF MY GUITAR CASE, WREX, YOU MASSIVE, TINY DANCER! I thought. 

Wrex had broken the rules. It had entered my territory which is anything except the high parts of the walls and of course, the celling. This was my chance. I could maroon Wrex, finally.

But it just sat there. Casually watching and scratching it’s nose occasionally. Or at least something that looks like that. Scratching his legs with his fangs or something similar to what a tame animal would do in it’s corner. I couldn’t throw this sweet thing out into the cold unknown. It trusted me!

*Plus, I can’t be bothered to get up during my quickly diminishing hours of gaming. And i’ve got a headache.*

After my contemplation filled stare off with Wrex i decided to leave it be. It soon climbed back up the curtain and back to it’s silk bungalow. 

So now i have a room mate. Wrex the spider. My creepy crawly companion. Someone/something that keeps me company for 4 hours in the night. 

Only be a good thing!

Went out last night. Check me all socializing and stuff. 

It was a welsh music night. There were three bands on, all of which i enjoyed.

I think that if i attended this, say, five or six years ago i wouldn’t have said the same thing. I would’ve enjoyed the night because i am a super, mega, awesome party animal. Obviously. 

When i was younger, all the welsh language music sounded forced or show-ee off-ee. It sounded as if welsh was their second language but they sung in it anyway just to seem clever. It never sounded natural to me. I will say that i had never listened to the super furry animals at that time, or Cerys Matthews, Both of which would’ve opened my eyes a little.

Since listening to the band and artist in the paragraph above, along with my friends japanese language tunage, (also, Jackie Chan’s version of “Ill make a man out of you” from Mulan) i have become far more open minded to stuff like that. Im even enjoying Rammstein now!

My complex’s aside, the three bands i saw last night (rather; two bands and an artist) sounded completely natural singing in welsh language. Their attitude seems less: “look at me im singing in welsh isnt that the tits?” but more: “yeah, im singing in welsh. I enjoy this. Deal with it.“ 

Here’s a video of one of the band’s i enjoyed

I speak welsh and i’m mega proud of it. I bust into it every so often. My friends and i converse quietly in welsh when we want to say something that might upset someone nearby. (reading that back it equates to; My friends and i bitch through the welsh language. Bitching isn’t nice in any language, but it is more fun in a different one.) We also speak welsh to have fun and make each other laugh. Last night it was more difficult because everyone in the room spoke the same language. It was actually quite refreshing. 

I don’t judge welsh people who don’t speak welsh, but i do judge people who don’t see the point of it. To those people i say this: Having the ability to speak an extra language can ONLY BE A GOOD THING!

Iechyd Da, joiwch a diolch!

CARIAD MAWR.

And the heavens opened.

Since the first time i heard that saying as a little tyke it always confused me. 

It’s a saying to explain that it’s raining heavily. The heavens opened and lashed the earth with water. 

Have you ever looked up when it’s raining? And opened your eyes? If you did, all you’d see is clouds. That’s what confused me. It made more sense to think that the heavens were closed when it was raining, barricaded by clouds. Whatever. Im a grown up now and i get that it means that it’s raining because some wordsmith made it up before me. 

I couldn’t resist going out for a walk tonight. The rain was happily splashing against my window, whooshing past at a 45 degree angle. “Can Dafydd come out for a walk?” It beckoned. 

I love walking in the rain. Cleansing is the best word to describe it, i suppose. I like the little things it makes me do. Things like; looking up to catch it in my mouth, shaking off the goose-pimples on my back, squeezing out the water in my hair and eyebrows and making a tune in my head to the beat of my squishing trainers. (Reading back that list makes me feel like im a weirdo :)

I did all them things.

And then the heavens opened. In my childish, sensible sense of the phrase, that is. It had stopped raining for about ten minutes. My legs had worked up a nice rhythm so i didn’t stop walking. I did, however, look up with my eyes wide open.

There was one spot where the clouds opened up to show me a window to space. The only speck of space that i could see on the whole sky’s horizon. It was like a deep and wonderful lake with glistening stars on the surface, surrounded by a beach of clouds. The stars looked so much brighter than usual. I was hypnotised. I couldn’t avert my eyes from my sky-lake.

I just walked while my sense of sight, touch, respiration and hearing were deeply stimulated.

A beautiful view accompanied by the sound of a distant running river and the luxury of completely fresh air. Goose-pimples.

And then i stood in dog shit.

This should change things up a little.

Tomorrow i’ll be driving my first car for the first time. (hip hip hwre)

I passed my test in January. It was my second test. If you ask me i should have passed first time. I was far more confident and i drove with so much more grace but the guy failed me anyway. I wanted to start the engine and drive as fast as i could and collide the passenger side into a building and give him a reason to fail me.  Out of respect for my instructor whose car i would have used to commit manslaughter, i refrained, took it on the chin and plotted a more scathing revenge.

The reason i couldn’t get a car straight away is because i blew my savings gearing up for my second driving test. Paying off officials of the DVLA is expensive but i had to be certain that i’d have the same man to test me again. And i did.

Que. Revenge. During the second test i was completely nervous throughout. I sweated more, I was jittery…. I was nervous. I knew what i had to do and now it came to the crunch i was having difficulty comprehending it. Traveling the world is easy when you look at a map, not realising how big the world really is. I had geared up for this moment and now it seamed impossible. 

“If you can just pull in to the side of the road when it’s clear” He said. Perfect! I needed to calm down and gather myself. “Ok, just pull out when the road is clear.” 

He’s playing with me! Im not going to take this! It’s time to put my plan into action. I looked into the mirrors to ensure a safe departure. It was clear and i pulled out. Past the point of no return i quickly realised that i didn’t indicate. STUPID! Instant minor. That’s it. Pointless worrying now. He’s having the full brunt of the revenge i had lined up for him.

Me: You know, i wasn’t this nervous last time i had my test. 

Him: Oh? 

Me: (thinking: Don’t reassure me then, prick) No, I don’t know what it is. I was completely fine first time. I know i should’ve passed it…… Can’t win em all.

Him: Do you know who took you last time?

I looked at him at a pause. My eyes burned through his ponsy unnecessary shades and i saw nothing but tinted fear. In a swift arm movement I released his seat belt and smiled. “Don’t you remember? You said my emergency stop was USELESS!” As the first syllable of the word “useless” exited my mouth my feet slammed on the brake and clutch. I could hear the noise of the tires screech followed by the sound of a skull shattering against the windscreen. My hearing had cut out and i saw his soulless body fly onto the road in slow motion. There were no cars about. I gathered myself and drove back to the Test Centre, popping his head under a car tyre on the way.

Me: No, can’t say i remember him.

Him: Oh.

Anyway, i passed the test. I didn’t actually arrange to have him again. The conversation in green italics, however, did take place between examiner and I, and it felt great to tell him that i should’ve passed first time.

Seven months later i have a car. It should change things up a little. (I don’t know why i told you that story, just came out as i typed.)

I went to church today...

I attended my friends daughters christening. He just text me to thank me. (It’s a bit late)

This will be the second time in roughly a month and a half that i’ve been to a church. The first was for a funeral of a not so distant relative. The funeral i am going to describe as mega catholic. The christening i am going to describe as mega protestant. 

It was my first christening and it was my first funeral where the service was in a church. 

Say what you want about religion but i’ve found that regularly used churches are beautiful. Im a sucker for traditional looking buildings. Cold, though.

As it was a sunday we had to go through a proper sermon before the actual christening. “Go through” makes it sound grueling, which it wasn’t really.

It felt like i was back in school, sitting next to my friends in a room full of people in an assembly. What i used to do during assemblies was misbehave. 

I really don’t know what came over me, today. I couldn’t help it. As i exited the church i really felt bad about singing “Johnny Christ”, making silly jokes, coaxing my friend to ask the organist for requests to see if she’ll do some Bon Jovi. I really felt bad that my belly was rumbling quite loudly. About incorporating the word “Bubba” into every verse (no one heard that, it was personal entertainment), deliberately saying “amen” after everyone to be the last one to say it. I didn’t feel so bad about singing like David Bowie and Scott Stap (Creed), well, until people laughed at me. Then i felt bad. As i left i shook the hand of the man who gave the sermon and i swear he knew it was all me. (which it wasn’t)

My best excuse is that i was very, very hungry. The truth is that church sermons are taken very seriously. When i’m in the middle of this seriousness i get slightly hysterical and it’s difficult to stop. 

My main problem with the two services i’ve recently attended is God. I have no problem with people believing in God. As long as your nice and sane and easy to live near then believe what you want. You can actually tell me, i wont get offended, i’ll more likely be interested as you could teach me something about things i don’t have.

What was i saying? Oh yes, God in the church.

Im not a regular church goer as you’ve guessed. I went to church because there were services there regarding people who are/were important to me or my family. During the funeral of one of the nicest men you’ll never meet, i listened to the main catholic talker guy (priest?) say next to nothing about the deceased’s life, but how he wanted him to go to heaven. He even said “though we are not worthy of your grace, let our prayers guide him to heaven”. Something along those lines. 

During the christening there was similar talk. A lovely little girl, who was chewing her foot in her mothers arms, was getting told in front of her family and friends that “she was not worthy of God but heres some special water anyway. Don’t sin.” Again, not exactly the words but that’s the message. (she looked hilariously cute when he wiped the water off her head. One little spike of hair in the middle of her head :)

I went to two events to celebrate people and the churches talker-guy said nothing about them.

It seems that no one is going to heaven. Especially if your christian. But they want you to which i suppose is a lovely sentiment.

I think people are just scared of dying so they go through this rigmarole of rituals to make it easier on their minds. I can accept that. Me, i think that death is like being knocked out, but forever. Im also very happy with that thought, mainly because it’s funny to me.

After the christening i watched Hawkings Universe. A smashing documentary. My only problem with it was that it left me wanting to read a heck load of books that i cant afford.

Seeing as im having trouble sleeping...

I think i'll tell you about my day.


I woke up easier than i'd expected following my exhausting night. I've been having trouble sleeping for a couple of days, now. I think about it too much which i suppose is glorifying it and making it worse. Im not upset about it right now, so no matter.


I snuck behind my niece down the stairs and waited until she was on the last step to scare her. That earned me a cwtch but hindered me a bacon butty. (Which one's better? That's a good debate.....cwtch) I spent much of my morning chatting with my niece, working in occasional math questions which she tires of. If she makes progress she teaches me how to dance which is her forte.


I danced my way to making my bacon butty and i was ready for todays task.


Get over my friends house and get our podcast recorded. 


I got there with my guitar and laptop, all ready to do some sketches and chatting. So we started with chatting, which went on for a little longer than it should have but it was nice, as usual. Meanwhile one of us (not me) were writing up some scripts of ideas we developed today. We also found an extra script that was nearly forgotten and found a way to adapt it for an audio only format instead of video, which was handy.


We jumped into the recording process which always flies by. I enjoy pretending and we all did lots of it today. I got to be a news reporter, a singer for a weird rock band, a sixth form music student, a clueless rioter and also myself in hugely exaggerated situations.


Voice acting was over and the four of us rushed to the chinese takeaway for some nosh. We all eat at the kitchen table which was a lovely experience. Four friends behaving like family, in that we all eat and poked fun at each-other.
Then the podcast was to be edited together which proved to be the biggest slog of the day. Making the podcast's conceit of flicking through an analogue radio proved to be quite difficult. I've never seen garageband look so busy and intimidating. Filled with scattered bits of audio comedy that had to be moved ever so carefully so as not to lose anything.


The audio is basically arranged now and it'll be released tomorrow for whoever want's to listen to it. I'll probably plug it again but for good measure;


Download the ACRE podcasts for free on itunes and have yourself a giggle.


Im going to try and sleep now. Wish me luck.

Conversation with Dad

I said i’d post conversations that i had with my family, here was the most interesting to me.

I often talk to my dad, mostly about books, tv shows or films. I get my appreciation for art from him and we enjoy sharing opinions. During mylovely week in Porthcawl with the family, we’d pretty much finished talking about what we’d seen or read so it got quiet when we had time alone.

I don’t know why I did it but im glad i did but i asked him about his family. My dad doesn’t often talk about his family. Rough childhood, i think. That, and it never comes up. So when i asked i was surprised when he happily answered.

Your own life gets extraordinary when you know where you came from.

I asked him about his aunties first because i know he loved them. They never married, they worked around britain and ended up back home in Pontypridd where my father grew up. When i asked why they never married he explained that when they worked in a hospital in London it put them off marriage. He didn’t explain further than that and apparently, neither did they.

The reason his mother didn’t join her sisters is because when she was young she was the typical sickie kid. Sickie kid back then, apparently, meant you had TB. She nearly died as a child because of it but voodoo majick healed her. 

You’ll understand why i say voodoo. 

Apparently her doctors last resort for her was to tie a freshly killed sheep’s pair of lungs to her feet. She did that and she lived. VOODOO! 

So she stayed home and failed to get put off the idea of getting married.

I swayed the conversation to his father, then. My pre-existing knowledge of him was only that he was not a nice man. He stopped my father from learning and forced him to work which resulted in my father doing his studying in pubs. He is the reason my father is the functioning alcoholic he is today.

It turned out that my grandfather (who i never met) was quite well liked when he was a young man working in the pits. He had everything going for him. He was even offered a position in the welsh football squad which he took up. However, the week before he left he was working with his minor buddies when a large rock crumbled off a wall and landed on his leg. He was hospitalised and bed-ridden for a long time. This made him bitter, as it would, and he stayed around Pontypridd.

It shocked me that my father is a creation of consequences (as are we all, really). If my nan wasn’t a sickie kid, she would have worked with her sisters and quite probably wouldn’t have married. If my grandfather didn’t suffer a terrible injury he would’ve played football for Wales and may well not have met his wife. He might’ve though, Wales has never had a successful football team.

Family history from my Nan’s time fascinates me. They are such interesting consequences.