If words are never read, then thoughts are lost

Solitary is a good word to explain how I feel about blogging.

When i tap the publish button I feel my blog, my thought, its message is in a solitary place.

Unviewed and unloved!

Like many, I spend hours trying to craft a perfect blog.  Except Lol  it’s the ‘daily one word’ blog of course!

For me, my blogs are about personal experience, views of life and poking fun on myself!

We all need to do the last bit more often in my view!

I’m new to this experience of sharing my thoughts and views with the world, so while there are countless bloggers with thought proking views, tips, ideas I feel even more naked towards my blog and the dread of solitude.

Bloggers and their blogs have at times touched my soul, moved my core and helped me to improve as a person and also at times increase my knowledge of a subject.

Except DIY, I’m just rubbish, im a tryer but if school games were based on DIY then I’d be the last picked, literally in solitude and rightly so!!

I salute the bloggers; the tryers, the changers and the downright brilliant who make the internet a lovely place to visit.

Long may you blog and I hope not in solitude.

A prickle in time

Prickle

I’m about to marry this beautiful woman Tina.

I’ve never known anyone with such compassionate love towards animals, she truly is amazing.

My first experience of this love was seeing her cross the street to pick up a worm in danger of pedestrian treading territory!

She has a love and care of family too, always keen to put on parties with the aim of wanting people to have fun.

Yet all this was unknown to me when I first did a Facebook poke to her in 2008.  I think they changed the settings since then but at the time you could choose similar parameters to yourself.  Like age location etc.

So I was single and bored and had time on my hands.  I was trawling through the parameters, pictures of people my age my location etc etc.

Then stop the press.

This beautiful picture of a woman appeared on my screen.

Remember Facebook poking?  I was close to doing it but thought maybe not, so left it.

Her face kept in my mind for a while after, couple of months maybe.  I don’t know why but her face stayed with me.

It was Christmas 2008 and she had updated something on Facebook suggesting she was in a sad place.

So I ‘poked her’!

Conversations started, they matured over two months and we agreed to meet.  Boy I was nervous at that first meeting, I mean we met online, kind of before online dating was established!

It happened we would meet at the Wales Scotland game.  My brother sussed something was up as I was smartly dressed instead of my usual rugby shirt!

I met Tina after the game, it’s still vivid the thought of standing outside the ground, I had prickes of goosebumps!

Nervously waiting.

Will she show won’t she show!  And why are all these kilt wearing Scotsman flashing their wares!

I saw more of what I didn’t want to see in a lifetime!

Thankfully Tina did show and we left the ballsy flashing Scots to start a beautiful romance.

I can’t wait to marry her, those prickes are back as I’m closing out this post!

Time to do..

Time goes faster as we get older, that’s what people say.

I remember as a child summer holidays were a vastness of fun and exploration where time was endless, now summer is a brief interlude into hoping the sun will appear whilst balancing work and the chores of a home and garden.

We bought a hot tub recently, Tina started a pet walking business we have a great time but feel there’s less of it than those halcyon days of my childhood and those long lazy summers.  How come?!

Time is a tick tocking teasing provocateur who creaps when mortality is realised to punish when we have a good time and torture us when the ‘day drags’.

I’m sat here now attempting and likely failing the perfect jiffy related daily story for WordPress, yet it strikes me that time is like juggling sand, the more you try the more the sand falls to the ground.

So for now I won’t waste this moment in time, I’ll put my tablet down and spend quality time and reflect on the grains of happy memories of my past for that’s all we can hope for.

The quicker the sand falls the more memories we want to capture and cherish.

 Jiffy

Bad bosses, stale bread and great coaches

We’ve all had them right? The boss who brings pain, anguish, frustration to a working life. They put pressure on the need to put bread on the table and preoccupies the mind when sleep should bring rest.

Whether it’s the deceiver, the faker, the out for themselvers, the lazy, the weak, the arrogant, the boss who just fails to be..well, a leader.

If you’ve not had a bad boss then you’re either lucky or self employed!

Anecdotes of our working woes have been employed to humour family and friends since the start of employment. What would the workers at the pyramid of giza have said of their bosses?

I was in a shop recently where I heard two workers being, well less than complimentary of the boss. The comments suggested this was their bad boss, sounding like the boss fell into the lazy and weak category with a splash of arrogance!

OUCH..they must really be a bad boss right?

Walking back to my car, and on the drive to work the thought kept replaying in my mind..What to do with a bad boss?

The bad boss is still a person, someone who needs to bring bread to their own table so why do they need to be..well bad.

We’re all in it together aren’t we?

I’ve also been lucky to have leaders in my life who really do listen inspire allow growth and..well they lead you to a better place amazing.

I’ve had two bad bosses, the first was inflexible and stuck to the rules, couldn’t change and wouldn’t want to..yet the second was the definite clear bad boss winner and all time champion.

Feel free to challenge this!

He offended pretty much all of my values and core beliefs; Honesty, integrity, team working, helping others yep they all got pretty much pooped on!

This guy not only takes the biscuit, he bought the biscuit factory!

For my first bad boss I felt powerless with the ‘only out’ being to find another job.

Which is what I did.

Thankfully for my ‘poop dropping biscuit factory owner’ bad boss I had a fantastic friend and coach who gave me great advice and helped me to grow as an employee and person.

If you can find a great coach the battle is half won.

He taught me to believe in myself, that I have a voice, to use it and challenge the boss, become the parent, win the small battles, create conviction and in turn value.

Trust me this is not one of those linkedin type blogs which offers little return from a big opening statement..its my experiences of bad bosses done in a humourous way!

The coaching along with my conviction to change did make a positive outcome. Yes along the way there was a whole bag of private ranting!

Words are easier than action I get it but if the bread goes stale, your future goes moldy.

It’s not only the boss who’s bad, maybe we need to self reflect, judge and adjust ourselves like we want to do our bosses. We’re all getting that bread on the table and need each other to do so to drive our business forward.

Whatever business that maybe.

For me I’ve learnt the only options are not just to accept a bad boss or to leave a job.

I had a tonne of low points but like I said having a great coach really helps.

Through him i went for that positive change, to push the boss into being a leader, it didn’t work but it improved me as a employee and got me noticed.

Why should the bad boss crush our standards and values, they belong to us.

I have to say, those workers whilst ranting were doing a great job so maybe it was just the blowing of steam and not the willingness to change.

There will always be the 9 to 5 anecdotes and long may they live..to an extent.

 

 

Bullies, rubble and cwrt sart

cwrt sart is my former comprehensive school, I have a range of emotions from the place, happiness sadness and hurt.

It was recently bulldozed, broken, torn down brick by brick and crushed into small pieces..That was the hope of a younger glynn.

It’s become rubble, overgrown grass and lost memories..my comprehensive is no more.

Making way for a new school.
I didn’t have great memories of cwrt sart.   The victim of bullying was my curse.  Victim maybe but I probably didn’t help myself possibly.

I walked past my old school after the bulldozers had left..the grass was long where once it was short, the echoes of pounding feet in boots practicing rugby and cricket and other sports filled my thoughts.

Where once I got kicked in the face after being held down by some bullies, from not entering the school gates as was safer to go the long way round..where once I had a crack at tackling in a rugby game on the field and got smashed, where once, where once..it could go on.

These were some of the memories that flooded back while watching the stillness and overgrown grass that was my former school..funny I got hit and pushed around in a game of rugby but what happened on the rugby field was different to being bullied on the same ground..both were physical yet only one was cowardly.

I won’t stand for bullying as a man, I wish I could talk to the shy glynn from my youth and raise his confidence, talk to him about bullies and how they are the ones that are weak, who hide that fear by feeding on the innocence of others.

So it’s with a bit of sadness that I saw what looked a similar isolated face at the new school in Port Talbot, a boy sat on his own, looking away from the other kids, sitting in a corner..I wanted to pull my car over and go talk to him, maybe I should but we’re in a world where that’s not possible to do.  A 45 year old man talking to a 12 year old..

Tugs at my heart strings..bullying is still here..while cwrt sart is the past and ysgol be baglan the new, it is a shame that some behaviours from the past poison the present and likely not end.

Good bye cwrt sart, I walked away from my old school with it’s piles of rubble head high and with fonder memories of a once unhappy place.

I’m not sure what happened to those bullies but I hope they found a happiness they didn’t have back in school.

 

 

Milk!

Remember this?

I saw a modern non battery powered milk float yesterday..didn’t think milk delivery still existed…

Aw, it takes me back to a time where the hum of the milk float along with the clinky click of the bottles was my alarm clock.

Sundays brought the smell of a roast dinner in every street, and milkmen brought our daily milk to every doorstep.

They were the hero’s of our breakfast, bringing our tea and cornflakes to life!

Both traditions are sort of lost with mcdonald’s replacing the sunday dinner and tesco ending the humble milk float..and don’t get me started on the corona van…mm dandelion and burdock..

For those who’s alarm clock was the (two half coconut shells knocking together) sound of a horse approaching..what would they have thought of the milk float.

Too modern and that din of a motor..horrible..possibly.

Embracing change can be hard.

Yet the good old milkman entered our slightly dodgy, and for the time, inappropriate culture.  Happy for that to end!

The modern way of total home delivery and convenience should remember it’s fathers and forefathers that ultimately brought the end to the milk float, and my favourite alarm clock.

So like the horse and cart, the float drifts into memory.

Yet happy memories they were..so heres to those champions of milk!

Thank you and long may you be in living memory!

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And whatever form of milk delivery please be responsible with these udders, they are part of a living animal.

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I saw this video on YouTube, quite funny and sums up my thoughts..

2 tries to 0

 

So many penalties..New Zealand and Williams seeing red..Kieran Reed looking bemused after the whistle..it’s enough to stretch a white cloud into a long one..

With two tries to nil can the boys make it two triumphs to win the series.

Yet all that was happening while I was at the beach with tee and these crazies!

We were taping the game which I prefer not to do as am bound to hear someone giving away the scores..thankfully no one did.

Although there did come a risk in Tesco but I defended it with two fingers in my ears and a low chant from my mouth while moving away quickly…must have been comical!

Back at the house with all devices off we finally watched the game..really feel for Sonny Bill Williams, the pre match interview with his soft voice was the opposite of the aggressive red carded shoulder charge that ended his game.

Those final 20 minutes were a brilliantly breathless game that I was so happy not to have had spoiled by the mouth in Tesco..

Wonder how rough the boys in the ferry will be after the game..

It’s been an interesting tour right from touch down!

Am sure I’m not the only one to think this was going to be the tour from hell..So it’s pleasing to watch the evolution of this galvanised team.

Spot on from warburton too after the whistle..

I’ll only be happy with a series win

 

So here’s to a cracking final where it’s all to play for…been a brilliant tour with some cracking moments and here’s to next week where I will be firmly on the sofa at 7.30 sharp..Sorry tee..

 

A lion stirred?

Game done in the first of three tests in the New Zealand v British & Ireland Lions.  What did you think?

I thought there were some great moments after weeks of pointed conversations against the Lions attacking ability.

Touch down in NZ for the lions

Not finishing opportunities blighted chances, with too many penalties ending any chances of a possible win.  This will weigh in on many post game conversations.

For all that, I felt proud of the boys, great try from O’Brien starting from Williams’ fantastic break.

Gutted Daly wasn’t able to smack down at the start, so close but certainly fired up the fans with early hopes of something special to happen.

With NZ then stepping up many gears with machine gun offloads my fear of a bad loss came in the second quarter, so it was reassuring to see the Lions gain confidence and start to break lines in the third quarter.

NZ had loads of sublime moments, Barrett’s sweet pick up was matched by Reed’s sublime offload that setup a try brilliantly finished by Ioane.  Enthralling stuff.

Overall, I’m an optimistic type, I feel more positive for a win next week than I did before todays game.

Well done boys, and to those travelling fans hats off to you for amazing support.

As for home support, in Briton Ferry it was fuelled by a free breakfast…Welsh style..!

 

The worst job?

Back in 1996 I left the RAF..To get some extra cash between my transition to civvie life I took on the worst job of my life!

Everyone has their own personal worst job, that job that gave them hell, pain, frustration but that job hopefully eventually become favourite anecdotes to tell.

Whether it was the first job story..

The terrible boss story..


The annoying colleague story..


Everyone has had a crap job..


Yet my worst job had none of the above..
It had this..

Now just a second..let me explain!
I applied to a job advert that..at the time..suggested I could earn a nice amount for easy work.

Ok I thought, and so on a harvest season kind of day I stood waiting for the pick up van at six am (ex military I was ok).

The van came with less than happy souls on board..the mild mannered easy work wanting colleagues and I were bound for that easy money.

On arrival at the warehouse I got presented with my bench..A sturdy plank with a deadly blade.


After brief training that pretty much said..dont chop your finger tips off..and mind your toilet breaks I was ready to chop carrots. Yeh!
So my challenge was the world’s biggest pile of carrots to top and tail…these recently unearthed orange beauties were gagging to be dressed and ready for consumption at a waiting Sunday dinner.

So it was my duty to supply those needy diners and make some cash for me.

I started slow..that blade really wanted my finger tips..I got the knack of topping and tailing in two swift swipes of a Bruce Lee style move..sharp carrots ready for that dinner plate,


By midday my hands were shaky but the diner table bound carrots were mounting up..

A brief lunch break brought me to a couple who’d done this for years and made their way in mortgage and life..ok I thought not just gold but carrot gold..Maybe there’s something in this..
I continued my Bruce Lee carrot swiping during the afternoon and by the end of the day earned myself bags of newly chamfered carrot.


With pride I went to collect my money..”are you coming back tomorrow” they asked?
I paused as I waited for that carrot gold of cash to be passed to me..

It was £12.50 for 9 hours of hard work.

My hands were topped out and feeble..I didn’t go back.

Makes me think of the hard work for pennies some have to do..and for that I salute you.

I could not look or smell a carrot for months..

My ideal job could be..hmm maybe..as long as plenty of wee breaks!

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