I thought it may be of interest to a few of you if I put a little bit of detail behind King Offa's Dyke: here it is...

Forming the traditional boundary between England and Wales, this impressive earthwork runs, although not continuously, from the Dee estuary in the north to the river Wye in the south. Constructed by King Offa of Mercia (757-96), late in the eighth century, it is a tribute to the authority he commanded from the Humber to the Channel. Offa was the most powerful and successful of all the Mercian kings. He dominated England, and his power was acknowledged on the Continent by the great Charlemagne himself. Offa had led many expeditions into Wales, but in his later years he decided upon a policy of stabilizing or at least permanently marking the frontier.

Offa's Dyke is one of the most remarkable structures in Britain. Offa's intention was to provide Mercia with a well-defined boundary from Prestatyn to Chepstow, a distance of 240 kilometers. Natural barriers were utilized where that was practicable; where it was not, an earth embankment was built which in places still stands to a height of two and a half meters and which is, with its ditch, up to twenty meters wide. A total of 130 kilometers of dyke was constructed, assuming that all the sections of earthwork associated with the name Offa can be considered part of the same project.

The labour of thousands of men was needed to build the dyke, proof that the kingdom of Mercia possesses a high degree of cohesion; in places it is absolutely straight for kilometers, proof of the technical skills of its designers. It's twelve kilometers longer than Hadrian's Wall but, unlike Hadrian's barrier, that of Offa is an earth not a stone construction, and it was never garrisoned. Its purpose was to denote rather than defend the frontier. Where both lie side by side, Wat's Dyke is up to seven meters to the east of Offa's Dyke; the one gives Oswestry to Wales, the other to England. Wat's Dyke marked the boundary of the lowlands, but parts of Offa's Dyke are located as much as four hundred meters above sea level. The intention, no doubt, was to give Mercia command of the approaches to the lowlands. It is highly unlikely that the dyke marked the precise boundary between the two peoples; during the age of Offa, there were English communities to the west of it and Welsh communities to the east.

George Borrow, in his classic Wild Wales, notes that once "it was customary for the English to cut off the ears of every Welshman who was found to the east of the dyke, and for the Welsh to hang every Englishman whom they found to the west of it". This story, and others like it, seem likely to be a later invention, however, Offa's Dyke has provided a potent symbol of Welsh-English antipathy ever since its creation. To many, this great earthwork symbolizes a permanent difference between national characters, and, in a curious way, seems to guarantee the separateness of Wales.

Visit the Offa's Dyke Association and find out more.

When Lonemum blogged about her Sacred Grove the other day I was put in mind of a grove that's quite close to my soul - it can be found on the Offa's Dyke footpath and is known as Devil's Pulpit, which is quite appropriate given the day.

Offa's Dyke is an ancient earthwork, errected in an attempt to keep the Celts out of Saxon held England - King Offa failed I hasten to add. You approach Devil's Pulpit through trees and in half-light, even on the brightest of days.

'Tis said The Horned One himself broke the alter on being discovered one dark night by monks from the monestry at Tintern below.

Whatever the truth, Devil's Pulpit is a truly magical place and well worth the effort if you're in the area.

The views down over the Wye valley are quite stunning

and of course, you can always stand a preach a little yourself!

The man in the mirror
said “You gotta be thinner
you’re carrying far too much weight;
you’ll never be skinny
you overgrown ninny
if you keep piling food on your plate.”

The sad eyes looked back
the mouth formed a crack
and an eyebrow rose Roger Moore style;
with a flick of the hair
I moved to the chair,
sat, and awaited my fate.

My number was called
the Doc was appalled
as the examination progressed;
“You foolish knave
it’s an early gave
for you my overweight mate!”

So a diet is needed,
advice must be heeded,
or I’ll have to chop off me leg;
to hit the right weight
for the Doc, my mate,
and stop piling food on my plate.

The day has progressed and thankfully my early morning flu symptoms don’t seem to have progressed in the same manner. The headache subsided hours ago and although the throat is still sore and the nose still runny, I certainly don’t feel anything like as miserable as earlier in the day.

Who was it that said all men are wimps and ready to succumb to man-cold at the drop of a hat?

Or is it still Sunday night? I'm never sure when one starts and the other ends. From a naval point of view it'd be 4:00am with the start of the Morning Watch, so I guess this is still Sunday night. Anyawy it's one of those nights: didn't get to sleep until around 2:00, woke up just after 3:00 and now here I am. I feel terrible. Headache, sore throat, can't swallow, etc. so I dare say I'm coming down with the lurgy, which I can well do without. I can see I'll be croaking at my students today...

I'm pleased to announce a new episode in the life of Happy Jack: yes folks, I've finally put fingers to keyboard and resumed my nautical tales in Saline Drip! Many apologies for the long absence to those who've been following my tale; normal service has been resumed.

What does Sunday hold in store?
How’s the weather? I’m not sure.
Will I set foot outside my door?
Come back later to find out more…

My daughter decided she’d come and pay us a visit this weekend, so having broken the more usual student mould she and her boyfriend rose early (5:00am for God’s sake) packed themselves into Tallulah (her little black number) and headed south out of Bradford. I’m pleased to say they arrived here safe and sound around four and half hours later having stopped only briefly en-route.

It’s lovely to see her again of course because I do miss having her around since she shipped out to student life at university in Bradford last year; this despite having spent time together through the summer vac and more recently grabbing a couple of hours together when we paid a flying visit to Yorkshire at the end of September. I don’t know about any of you folks out there with kids away at university, but I still find it hard to believe that my little girl won’t come bursting into the room full of the latest fad and news of the day. She’s not so little now of course…

Being a parent is a hard thing to get right at times. Just how do you handle the situations Life throws at you? It’s never easy that’s for sure; Lonemum’s post Darn Teenagers is proof of that (if any were needed). Lord knows there are plenty of parenting manuals on the market, but in my experience none of them offer up the information that would be really helpful. I mean, how can they? No two situations are the same and although there may be similarities there are just as likely to be vast differences too. You just have to make the best job of it you can and hope you’re getting it right. Thankfully, I think most of us do.

Anyway, I’m off to make the most of an unexpected visit.

Well it's Friday night and here we are blogging away: why aren't we all out somewhere exciting? I can't make up my mind if we're just a bunch of very sad people, or an extremely content band of folk who enjoy our own (and fellow bloggers) comapny. I suppse one could ask, "Who cares?"

There's a lovely old place not too far from me that would make an ideal holiday home. So okay it needs a little renovation, but it has great potential don't you think?

Raglan Castle - the approach

This little pile has its own water feature, of course, and without any of that rain-forest destroying decking the makeover shows are so fond of.

The Water Feature

Now while I say there's no decking these is a certain amount of timber in evidence, including this rather nice walkway.

The Bridge

The gardens are nice, if a little extensive...

The Gardens

There's plenty of room for improvement, although some serious DIY skills (or a relationship with a good builder) would probably be an advantage.

The Towers

And of course the outlook is stunning: to the left the Blorenge, to the right the Sugar Loaf.

The Outlook:
The Blorenge & The Sugar Loaf, with Abergavenny in between

So all I need now is for all you nice people out there to stump a few thousand quuid a piece and I'll put in an offer!

Okay, okay, I know I didn't have to do them, but I did anyway. So here are my scores:

I'm pretty smart (10)
I'm slightly nerdy (40)
I'm gonna croak in 10 years

but worst of the lot...

What's an old fart to do?

Sitting in my office and quietly tapping away at a new user guide, I found myself aurally drawn to the chatter of female voices in the quad outside. Not usually being one for eaves dropping I leaned forward to pull my window closed. That’s when I stopped and my ears pricked. So there I am leaning over my desk with one hand on the window latch and the other supporting my not inconsiderable weight. I could hardly believe what I was listening to and was sure I really oughtn’t to be listening at all, but I was fascinated; after all, it’s not every day you get to listen to four or five young women in their late teens or early twenties openly discussing their sex lives!

I pushed my window a little further open and slowly sat back down. Although I couldn’t see the girls and have no idea who they were, I found their conversation extremely arousing. I guess there’s a touch of the voyeur in most of us if we’re honest and I found myself making mental images as I listened to one of the girls graphically explaining how good her boyfriend is with his tongue. Apparently he likes to nibble and flick for hours while probing with his fingers before plunging deep inside to finish the job. Her accent was local and I realised as she talked about how many times she could climax, that at least one of the girls obviously didn’t understand the colloquialisms.

The conversation was joined by a new voice who agreed she loved to be “eaten” and qualified her statement by saying, “But I’d rather be sixty nining.”

There followed a short discussion about the qualities of cut and uncut cocks amid giggles and raucous laughter. The voices moved away and I assume the girls were either heading for a class or perhaps the canteen and my entertainment was over.

Now I’m no prude by any means, but I will admit I was somewhat surprised by what I’d heard. I’m well aware that girls talk about sex and commonly use the kind of language once regarded as a male only domain. No, what surprised me was the volume at which the conversation had taken place and the sure knowledge that if I could hear as plainly as I had then so could several other members of staff and goodness knows how many students: has society changed so much that sex can be talked about both publicly and graphically with no consequence? Discuss…

The university operates a flexi-time system, so I decided I might as well stick around the house and wait for the village chemist to open this morning to collect a missing item from my prescription.

I waited patiently for the chemist's assistant to open the door (9:06) and presented the assistant with the slip I’d been given, who rooted about a few minutes then came back to the counter:-

Assistant: "It wasn't on the van Saturday and will be here later today."
Me: "You told me on Saturday it would be here today."
Assistant: "Yes, but it wasn't on the van. It'll be on the van later today."
Me: "If it was supposed to be on the van on Saturday and wasn't, how do you know it will be on the van today?"
Assistant: "We're expecting it."
Me: "But you were expecting it on Saturday and it didn't come."
Assistant: "It's not my fault. It'll be here when the van comes."
Me: "And when will the van come?"
Assistant: "Later on today."
Me: "So what time should I come back?"
Assistant: "Oh I don't know. You could try this afternoon."
Me: "What time this afternoon?"
Assistant: "After the van's been."

I took my slip and walked out the door....

Dark thoughts spring into my brain
Stay a while
Move off again

Dark thoughts to make me shiver
Set my knees a quiver
Upset my liver

Dark thoughts keeping me awake
In state of funk
My body quakes

Dark thoughts disturbing equilibrium
As Death stalks proud upon the land
Hooded head and scythe in hand
Reaping souls to increase his band

Dark thoughts…

Has anyone out there got a Rangemaster cooker?
Has anyone out there had a bad experience with a Rangemaster cooker?

Okay. We bought a gas fired Rangemaster 110 double-oven cooker around three years ago and frankly we're less than impressed. It looks very nice and worked perfectly for a while, but here we are with one oven out of commission and the other not behaving as it should.

I can hear you now, "Why don't you get it fixed?"

Well, the smaller of the ovens has failed because something called the Flame Supervision Device has packed up. The component costs around £90 apparently, but the repair cost is upwards of £300.00. A bit extreme, eh?

The thermostat on the larger oven isn't accurate, so you have to keep a very close eye on things unless you like your roast very rare, or very well done. We haven't had an estimate to get that fixed as yet.

We could replace the whole thing for around £1500 so the thought of getting repairs carried out that are likely to cost in excess of a third of that amount after just three years service, doesn't seem like good economics to me.

So come on guys and gals, anyone out there experienced similar problems with Rangemaster cookers? Anyone know a reputable firm who might repair our Rangemaster without asking an arm and a leg?

Help please.

Mobile ‘phones. Almost everyone has one although not all of us know how to use more than the most basic functions. The technology involved in the things is quite frightening in many respects, but fear not I have no intention of bleating on about how clever the ‘phones themselves are, no indeed, it’s the stupidity of the users that has rattled my cage.

The government banned drivers’ use of hand-held mobile ‘phones months ago: if you need to make a call while driving, you must use a hands-free set. Motoring organisations suggested the new law did not go far enough, calling for a complete ban on drivers using mobile ‘phones because any conversation that distracts the driver is dangerous.

How many drivers took notice of the new legislation? Well I honestly don’t know, but I see hundreds of drivers flaunting the law every day, driving along and chatting away without a care in the world. Do the police pull them over? They may occasionally, but obviously turn a blind eye most of the time. How do I know? Simple observation, it’s as easy as that.

So now there’s a whole rash of research available that aspires to prove the use of any mobile phone whilst driving is a highly dangerous action. Motoring organisations have called again for a full ban on mobile phone use by drivers. The government has looked at the problem again and suggestions have been made that a total ban may be implemented. Well excuse me, but if the police aren’t interested in prosecuting drivers who currently break the hand-held ‘phone ban, what evidence is there to suggest they’ll be any more vigilant should the current law change? And anyway given the size and efficiency of Blue Tooth technology, how the hell are the police to know whether a driver is making a ‘phone call or simply talking to a small child belted into the back seat of the car? I fail to see how such a law could be policed.

Don’t get me wrong I’m certainly not in favour of drivers using mobile ‘phones, far from it in fact. Having seen a young mother driving to school and chatting away on her hand-held with her kids clambering out of control around the back of her “Chelsea Tractor” run into another driver innocently waiting to turn right in the road, I’m in favour of a ban. Having witnessed some fool driving along the motorway in excess of 70mph, while using an electric razor AND chatting away on his mobile, I’m very much in favour of a ban.

The current law is being abused and ignored. Any future legislation is likely to suffer the same fate in my opinion. I’m inclined to believe driver education is what’s needed: either that or a simple complete, full, total lifetime ban for the morons who put other people’s lives at risk by insisting on holding their conversations instead of concentrating on their driving.

I’m late starting my day today so am just catching a few minutes before I begin work (shhh… don’t tell the boss [looks sheepish and peers over right shoulder]).

I sat in my morning nakedness and composed a piece I was going to share here, but for some reason best known to itself I wasn’t able to complete the post: earlier in the year this community suffered from Blog-Bugs and it seems they are still present despite my absence over the past couple of months, which is a bit frustrating.

So now you’re all going to have to wait to see the ravings of my naked body and tormented psyche; thank goodness for that I hear you cry!

As time goes by I often seem to find myself asking the question, “Is it just me?” The most recent occurrence was yesterday while reading a news article about a guy in Swansea who has been fined £200 for putting the wrong type of recyclable waste in his recycling sack. If you’re not aware of the story, it seems 28 year old Michael Reeves was caught out because he put paper (junk mail apparently) in the sack intended for bottles and cans.

You may not have any sympathy with Michael. You might perhaps take the line that at 28 he should know the difference between glass or metal and paper and you’d be right of course, he should.

But doesn’t it seem a trifle odd to you that Michael was found guilty of “contaminating” the other items put out for recycling in his bottles and cans sack by including some paper waste? It certainly seems odd to me. It’s the act of so called “contamination” that concerns me.

I’ve had a brief look at the City of Swansea recycling information web page at http://www.swansea.gov.uk/index.cfm?articleid=1019 and although there are lists of what is acceptable for recycling and guidelines of what the council would like you to do, there is no mention of the removal of paper labels from bottles, jars or cans. This leads me to believe that by the council’s own yardstick, the contents of virtually all bottles and cans recycling sacks in the Swansea area must be contaminated by virtue of at least some of the contents having paper labels.

So how much has it cost to bring Michael Reeves to court? How much valuable time has been wasted following the legal process to its full and final conclusion? Will the case against Michael prevent others in the Swansea area and beyond from “contaminating” the contents of their bottles and cans recycling sack? Finally, were the contents of the sack actually contaminated by the inclusion of the paper item, given the very high probability that said contents contained items with paper labels? I ask you, is it just me?

At least Michael wasn't guilty of something like this: I could understand his prosecution if he had been.

Well okay, it’s been a long, long time since I last blogged. No apologies for the prolonged absence, just be happy that I’m back: now is that conceited or what? Yeah, it is!

Many things have been happening in my life in the recent months, but the one thing that has remained constant is my love affair with images. So anyway to celebrate my return to Blogland I thought I’d share this image with you all – you might say it’s one of the things that’s helped my rehabilitation.

Circle of Life?