Two words from my childhood mind’s desire – Sinclair C5

Growing up in the eighties, the Sinclair C5 was such a want of mine.

The future, now.

The dream of driving a futuristic car kept the tips of my fingers tingling with anticipation.

The C5 could beat two on a trike – a memorable headline – it just stoked my fire.

A cool white electrically charged plastic joy of mobility magic – and with a totally waterproof body cover. Clever.

Transport couldn’t get better, or cooler. Back then, this was a cool future of futuristic travel – today – who wouldn’t!

It wasn’t a time travelling Delorian or a Weird Science attempt at dating. But the C5 was a real slice of white plastic future that any early adopter could buy.

Looking at photos of C5 today questions the aspirations of a younger me.

What was i thinking!

But, on discovering an original C5 at a local museum I was excited.
I finally sat in the shell of my child’s desire – sitting low down in the hardened eggshell cocoon of the C5 I was chuffed to be finally in the driver’s seat.

Taste can take a back seat – damn the C5 is a one seater – taste can thumb a lift to somewhere else.

If it had been a working C5 and I was a kid again, then hell, I would have been in heaven!

Tee, I think, looked less impressed when she sat in the seat of the C5. But she attempted a smile to support me I think.

Her automobile taste stretches beyond mine. Now if the C5 had been a Pagani Zonder S Roadster – she was in!

The staff eventually asked me to leave 😜

Spring has sprung!

I felt like a sleepy mole leaving his hole.

Bleary-eyed, my mind struggled to understand the sensation on my skin, and the blinding light hitting my retinas.

Wait, that really hot thing in the sky is, wait, the sun!

Finally, spring is here.

Goodbye dark rainy nights, the beast is back in the east. Hearty stews replaced by healthy salads.

Evenings in the garden are the new nights on the sofa. From watching the garden slowly wither, to watching the garden sing with the life of a newborn spring.

This year, there are loads of things we want to finally get complete, a new patio, the waterfall.

But mostly, I have my pasty white fingers crossed that this early warm lovely sunshine is the mark of a great summer to come!

And with this being the #warmestdayoftheywar I’m hoping today will not be a false god for a divine sun-loving summer.

Cutting talks

I love random unscripted conversations.

So my hair was looking like I was wearing three hats – which was two months overdue a cut.

I tried a different hairdresser to my usual barber.

Closer to work so more convenient.

They suggested a different style.

A peaky blinder cut, different to my usual lazy spiky look.

I went for it.

Possibly, it was facely unflattering, maybe a younger generation cut.

But whatever, I tried it for two cuts before heading back to my old barbers.

So I’m sat waiting for my cut, there were a few people ahead of me.

Time passed, slowly.

Eventually, I got to sit in the seat, they had taken on a new barber.

We started the usual barber barbee chat – weather, work stuff.

The conversation turned to a slightly alternative direction.

We started to talk about age and how men have more hair the older we get.

He was thankful he didn’t have a hairy back, same here.

But he went on to go into detail on how good the sack back and crack is.

Hmm thought I.

But showing interest I pursued this terrible torture of hair removing pain.

He went into detail.

Apparently, the worst part is not the eye-watering tearing sound of hair being torn from the inevitable red tender sore skin.

But the newborn porcupine spikes that stab your butt and other parts until they go softly long.

Or another sack back and crack before that porcupine grows its eye-watering barbs.

That’s not for me.

His idea for removing nostril hair is novel.

(Hot wax tipped cotton buds and an unflinching hand).

This is a lovely guy who’s declared war on hair!

Gonna call him hairless harry

We move on. Kids.

Not the nice lovely respecting ones.

No, the brat ones.

I thought I was bad at picking out the annoyances of the bratty unruly.

Harry had the edge.

He was once cutting a kids hair who kept complaining Harry was hurting him.

It is hair, explained Harry, it doesn’t hurt you when it’s cut. Grow up.

He singled out his nephew where Harry often picked him up on being a brat.

But that is for another blog!

He does what he wants, thinks he can say what he wants with no comeback.

Harry went into colourfully graphic detail on how he ensured his nephew was brought to justice.

My hair cutting experience was a nice funny one and not the awkward ‘weather’ type conversation.

But what was awkwardly funny was when I got up to get my jacket and seeing the place was full of parents with their loved ones waiting for a cut!

First thought

Respect the barber kids

Love the Easter break – but I’m always happy to move on as the egg jokes eventually get bad.

The desperate attempt at humour around linking egg to commonly known words is just bad and obvious.

It’s just silly in my mind.

It’s all eggcruciatingly bad, anyone doing the ‘shell sin’ will end with egg on their face.

I’m not yolking ok.

Seriously grow up, stop these terrible attempts at trying to deliver the most eggcellent yolk ok.

Hen-eway this is about a religious time when Jesus was reborn.

Do you think he would be a happy bunny that his rebirth ends up as egg yolks – what a load of eggcrement.

I hope not to oeuf-fend, but hope to cause a smile.

Chocolate eggs, kids over doing their delight of the dairy, day off work, time with family and friends, companies honing adverts on price reductions to sell stuff!

The traditional story of Jesus and his victory over death has a different meaning these days.

Some say that Easter didn’t always symbolise his resurrection but was originally a pagan celebration of renewal and rebirth.


Whether this is a celebration of:

Christ’s resurrection

Saxon goddess Eastre

Chocolate hogging kids

Time with family or friends

Or time out to just reflect and recharge

However and whatever you wish to celebrate – be safe and enjoy.

Happy Easter


Wandering pet – worried or wistful?

A dilemma – seeing a stray dog on the street on my way to work.

I couldn’t leave the wagging tailed smiling staffie, he was too close to a dual carriageway.

Fast driving, unforgiving morning drivers and cute happy staffies don’t mix.

Personally, I’m not keen on a dog with a bigger jaw than me – but Stan I named him that – came running up licking my hand like there was no tomorrow.

So I was locked in.

I equalled the frown of the silly people frowning at Stan.

Yet Stan is a free spirit, and after trying but failing to get him to my car he was gone.

So my hope that I could get him to the vets to see if he was chipped was as gone – and so was Stan.

He seemed to be playful, and kept running and jumping at those who frowned the most -just like Stan

I hope he got home OK.

I was quick to jump at the owners lack of responsibility, but then the owner may be frantically looking for Stan or whatever his name is.

Unlike another time a few years ago when myself and my lovely Tee were heading to Swansea.

Our conversation halted when we saw a dog running down the middle of the dual carriageway.

Luckily it was early so there weren’t many cars on the road.

We pulled over and spent ages running up and down to catch the playful little monkey.

Thankfully we caught him and with the help of a passing policeman managed to track the owner.

We found out later that the owner said “oh he’s always doing that – running off”.

Our response isn’t publicisable.

So I hope Stan finds his way home and that his owner was a worried owner.


Not the irresponsible type – who should not be allowed to have the pleasure that pets bring.

Just walk on by?

At this time of year it’s a chilly walk to my car from the office.

What gets me through the rush hour traffic, is the cosiness of warmth when I open my front door.

That lovely feel of heat that blows the cold from my face.

The sound of miaows from the happy but hungry cats – who are always ready for food.

Calling out to my gorgeous tee and hearing her tired but happy hello – dog walkers do a lot of steps every day!

We love getting in the kitchen to cook something fulfilling – being followed around the kitchen by the hungry happy cats.

Our home isn’t perfect, there’s long overdue DIY to do, but it’s our home.

It keeps us warm and dry, safe and happy – so like most, our home really is our kingdom.

We are, in many ways, lucky.

I say lucky as there are countless people in the same position – but too many who are not.

Those people currently, and those many luckless ones in the future, have seen and will see many blank hardened faces pass by them.

Quickening a step, crossing the road, feigning a phone call – anything for their eyes to remain falsely honest.

The homeless who breathe, think, talk – are people.

But for one reason or another, whether it’s bad luck or personal choice – are on the streets.

As a kid in Neath, we had Bernard – I remember him being actually quite funny and harmless.

There were stories of him being an artist, I don’t know if they were true – but I remember him being a larger than life character.

Tee had the same memory growing up in Barry – although his name was Bepo and he always wore ten coats.

While living in Peterborough Tee also told me a tragic story of Nobby who had what most of us had.

But a terrible fire robbed him of his home, his family and ended his days rejecting life, living in a bus shelter.

Yet rather than complaining about their unexpected neighbour, his new community embraced him – often taking him food.

These may not all be factual stories but they breathe life, whether hardship or happy times, into the hudles of balls of people on our streets.

The next time you pass someone on the street, if you don’t already – see them as who they are – like us in our lucky warm homes – they as we are the same – living breathing humans.

Label people what you will – homeless, tramp, hobo – these are just nouns that make us invisible to the people on the streets just asking for help.

The beast is here

As the beast spreads his icy cold claws across the UK, I’m left with a cold question.

I’ve seen people treating today like any other day, and others maybe a bit too erratic.

Poorly dressed teenagers.

Shelf stripping shoppers.

Busloads of OAPs being anything but.

The driver who throws caution to this siberian wind – it’s far from a dry summer’s day.

The personal joy of seeing kids delight at the sight of snow – and early school closure.

I’ve seen an array of reactions and inactions to the elements.

In our hotel room I’m watching an ongoing battle.

This stormy sea, toughened with the teeth of the beast – biting at a defiant shoreline. Relentless.

I’m sat here in the Isle of Wight with my beautiful Tee celebrating my birthday.

As the battle continues below, I wonder to the value of life.

The sea doesn’t value the shore, so why would someone reckless value their, or anyone else’s life.

Is the beast more than just the weather, is it within us all to some level.

I’m not one of the shelf stripping shoppers, nor a too cautious driver – neither am I perfect.

Who are you?

Anyway, it was just a cold question.

Tide and crickets

I’m with my beautiful new bride, my wife, my wifey.

Sat here, privileged to be here, hearing this view, seeing this view.

We’re feeling this view.

The tide rolls in, washing the shore with a salty hello.

Crickets, unseen are singing their crickity endless song.

It’s a lovely second floor view of a wide open sea blanketed by a deep blue evening sky.

The sun is about to kiss the sea and bring another luscious orange glow.

Staff have worked tirelessly, making our experience something special.

Like focused bees they glide efficiently around the guests of the hotel we’re staying at for our honeymoon.

In the background and out of sight they bring a drink, clear a plate, freshen a room, ever the watchful owls.

Bees or owls?

We’re on our balcony in guest dressing gowns and looking at this beautiful view of a setting sun over a Cypriot sea.   

Dotted palm trees that stretch along the walkway that hugs the shore line become shades as day turns to night and the sky becomes a vista of stars.

Walking around today, with my deliriously happy honeymoon mind, I saw a painted picture of a multitude of human emotions.

People bored, people desperate; helpful, distant, tired, excited, happy, sad, relaxed.

Families, couples, singles.

Yet the happy workers work, they have their own turmoil yes maybe but it’s not shown.

So I’m sat feeling blessed that I’m now married, and married to a beautiful woman and person.

How many have sat in my seat, looking at this view in this dressing gown.

Did they see what I feel, did they feel as happy as me? 

The crickets keep cricketing and the tide keeps rolling.

3 weeks

Shortly I will be husband to my beautiful tee.

When I did the prickle in time blog it all seemed so far away, a wonderful vision built on thoughts of how the wedding will flow.

Those thoughts are now becoming a reality with the wedding being three weeks away.

Numbers booked and changed and booked and changed again. Life does that with the ebb and flow of commitment challenges.

All boxes now ticked and honeymoon finally booked. All inclusive relaxation and celebration in Cyprus.

My biggest challenge will be to reduce tees foot fall to a crawl fall. While the dog walking part of her business has been successful, her feet and shoulders certainly need a break from her gorgeous clients.

3 weeks now.

I’m so excited but if truthful, nervous too. Not that I’m nervous about marrying tee as that is the best decision of my life.

Aside from choosing android over apple.

Sorry apple, but like tee, android is just more open to new experiences and she doesn’t want to control.

Weddings are about two people joining together, separating individuals to join together as one.

Also, weddings are about the word ‘booked’.

The venue booked, registry booked, car booked, booked, booked, booked.

In the war for the perfect wedding, this word clashes with the evil word ‘cost’.

Mention the word wedding and cost gets greedy, it expands in its need to deplete the coffers as any married couple know.

Still, we are there having balanced the booked and cost struggle to shape what we hope to be a beautiful wedding.

I just hope tee turns up!

3 weeks, 3 weeks.


Something I admire about Elastic, it takes a lot to pull it apart. The stronger it is the harder to break it.

Take the elastic band. Beautiful. Perfectly cast roundness, unbreakable and together. Pull it and it stretches lovely.

I had an elastic band holding my rear head torch in place all winter. Tough bands them. Mine eventually broke, but from old age bless it.

When I think of that band and compare it to us, and our families I question our strength of solid connectivity.

For elastic, it’s science, it doesn’t have a mind it doesn’t have to think under pressure of being stretched it just does its science thing.

For us, our lifes generally elasticate around family, friends, work and other activities. Expanding and contracting in a usually ok place.

Yet sometimes we are close to snapping that beautiful elastic existence for one reason or another.

For whatever those reasons, right or wrong do we really want to break that perfect elasticitiy, sadly yes and all too often sometimes.

Yet, unlike the broken elastic band holding my rear head torch in place, as people we can mend our relations.

For us its not science but our humanity that decides on our continued connectivity.

Unlike the elastic band, it is possible.