Rugby Quagmire

It looks as though our rugby is drawing towards our soccer, with the very best players going abroad, as John Charles did, with Chinaglia even playing for italy, but he had double nationality I assume, so it's slighly different; perhaps Bale will go to Barcelona; most cross Offa's dyke where the money is, and Swansea & Cardiff are left to carry the flag as exiles in someone else's league structure, bringing in non-Welsh players to survive. And where's the money in rugby with low crowds leading to a cap on wages. The top players are leaving for France, we have cross-national leagues with an internal championship set-up, with a Welsh Premier in rugby with it's equivalent Welsh Premier in soccer. All our soccer teams now have european aspirations, some through English qualifications the rest in Cymru, but none can win, only Swansea have a chance, if they were good enough to qualify. Our metropoles, for in no way are they regions, more like conglomerates, as in the uniting of neighbouring local authorities, what can I say, they were supposed to be our pharos, our guiding lights with our leading lights to give us success at the highest levels by concentrating our best players, now they are haemoraging players and losing to French reserves, they have no following so what's their point, it looks as though we have a quandary that is beyond me. Our soccer is weak but stable and growing; our rugby tried to better itself but is now losing its support except for the big one and the little community clubs. Go back to the basics and do the simple things well. We are not New Zealand. A word that is very important everywhere in the world, not just in Cymru/Wales is 'identity', I think the WRU have lost the plot, especially as they don't even have time for the language of Phil Bennet, Barry John & Gareth Edwards; it looks to me as though they are now in a quagmire of their own creating from which will be difficult to extricate themselves . The situation cannot stay as it is, there is a shortfall of money, our soccer is now organized and settled for growth, our rugby appears to be heading in the opposite direction; our soccer is in the community, our rugby has left it. IDENTITY comes from the cradle to the committee, it is not to be found in sycophancy and a search for honours & glory. Our soccer has professionals running what is basically an amateur game, with the top sides being mainly semi-professional; rugby is a professional game run by amateurs at the top, or at least that's how it seems to me. Or perhaps rugby outgrew itself in the 70s, syphoned off a lot of soccer players & supporters, and now things are returning to normal with rugby's core support finding that their teams have been taken away fom them by overly optimistic administraters and are now at a loss, in a lurch with nowhere to go and to give heartfelt support.

Feeling Sick

Can anyone be feeling sicker now than the people involved with Newport County who were sailing 2 - 0 up away to Kidderminster Harriers in the conference with 85 minutes gone. The dejected Kidderminster fans already heading for the turnstiles and the Newport supporters mentally drinking the Brains beer, waiting for them in the crates stacked in the luggage compartment, back at the coaches ready for the trip home, then a goal in the 86th minute, nothing to worry about, take your time getting the ball to the centre spot, match almost over; still a goal to the good; and even if Kidderminster manage to score a second, which is highly improbable at this late stage they'd still be going home with a point from an away game, no mean thing in itself, especially given their precarious league position; then wham, bang, shock horror, 2 more goals, officially on the 90th minute; that's 3 goals in 4 minutes, has that ever been done before, surpassing what Man Utd did a few years ago in European competition. I feel for them, especially as they are bordering on the relegation zone, although they've played fewer games than their rivals, a win would have earned them 3 points and probably have guaranteed them safety.

Charlie's Feathers

http://www.walesinunion.com/baby
You can be proud of being Welsh, or you can circulate the 3 feathers of Charles Windsor; I thought he wanted to reclaim them, that's what he was telling us a few years ago;  I wouldn't allow my children to wear them, and the quicker they are taken off the national team strip the better. My preference to replace them would be a roaring 'Draig Goch/Red Dragon epitomizing the fire breathing Welsh warriors we saw this year and hopefully will continue to see for many years to come. If it was up to me we'd launch the match with a rousing rendition of 'Gorymdaith Gwyr Harlech/March of the Men of Harlech', it could complement the national anthem, the Irish have given us a precedent, a war song to light the fire in our warriors bellies that would set them up for the whole 80 minutes of battle and show the All Blacks what they can do with their Haka; while we're at it get rid of the people at the top, a revamp all round.

Lost & Found

Drama at No 5; got out of bed, Doudou & Caru nowhere to be seen, palpitations, not in either of the 2 boxes and they haven't returned behind the cooker, I shout for Doudou who eventually appears but I didn't notice whether she came in from outside or from the bedroom. She goes out, I patiently follow her, she's sniffing everywhere, strolling, sitting; I fear she's looking for Caru but lost the scent in the rain; patience, she wanders farther afield, only find her toilet I've noticed her using lately in a trough in a neighbour's garden, I start to walk back to the house sensing a false trail, she follows me resting at my feet. I'm beginning to think I've lost Caru forever after a brief lifespan of 3 days, when she gets up, I don't want to lose sight of her, she heads for my bedroom, where is she? I discover her in a little niche she's found behind an old telly where I've laid out buttonless clothes waiting to be repaired, it's dark, but I can make out Caru, as Doudou finds a comfortable position to give her succour. She wasn't looking for a wider box with more room to move, there's less space where she is now, rather, a little cosy niche hidden from the wider world, her little comfort spot that she carried her baby to during the night. All is well with the world as I leave them to it.

To Friends

http://www.facebook.com/byn.walters/posts/10150746205922277?notif_t=like

We All Need Caressing

Doudou the cat left the cardboard box to eat a morsel then jumped up on my lap for a few minutes rest from feeding and caring for the little one and to enjoy a few caresses herself, after which she went around the back of the settee to do a bit of wandering that turned out to be scouting, looking around she climbed through a box, nosed into a corner before returning to it sizing it up. It looks as though the box they are in is a bit cramped, the other one being wider with room to move, she came back, tried to get a grip on her progeny who began screaming, it wasn't working, she looked up at me, miaowed, I understood, picked the little one up and took it to the other wider box where I placed it, followed by Doudou who settled in beside her. She's been out since, looking up at me, so I thought I'd test her by moving the kitten very slightly away from the box, her reaction was swift, this time she managed to grab hold of it first time by the scruff of its neck, both of them returning to their new more comfortably suited living quarters. I think this mothering is hard work, she's back on my lap for a caress leaving her baby alone in slumber for a moment, she's not yet fully grown herself, but she seems to be more than coping, up to now giving her all her time; there's no squealing as yet, I imagine that she will rush straight back once it starts which it inevitably will.

Stranded

I ought to write a book about my 2 years out of work and call it 'stranded'. No dole but subsistence allowance, charity food for 3 months of winter; I'm in a capsule, my house is my bubble of life housing my computer which is my contact with the outside world, I can't afford car insurance; my little village comprises 1 bar; 1 bar/shop, & 1 shop, I'm basically limited to only going out for my and Doudou's needs, she herslf is seeing to the needs of her newly born; the bank is one and a half hours walk northwards; I have walked to a funeral 2 hours away, and to a televised rugby international 3 and a half hours away. Friends have helped me keep my head above water. I still have a year's electricity bill to pay, but thanks to you/them it might now be possible at least to pay the insurance on my car, which I will see about as soon as I can get a lift to the office in the next town 10 miles down the road thereby ending my isolation; there again, I have to work to my priorities and the priority is the electricity bill; I need my car, but I need electricity more.
      This is the kernel of the greater story of my getting stranded in Brittany in 1979 after a two weeks holiday gained a permanent (who knows?) extension.

8 Months Between Them

It's a remarquable scene to witness, especially taking into acount that Doudou is not yet fully grown herself. It's wonderful the way that she looks to me to pass my hand smoothingly over her head before dropping to the foetal position so that her infant  may take succour, and when finished she places her paw tenderly over the little one's body in a gesture of loving protection.

Tribulations in the night

I was woken up about half an hour ago by Doudou sitting on me, I thought it strange that she should leave the little one for a friendly fondle; after about a minute I heard squealing, she left me, I followed her to the box, and catastrophe, there lying prostrate was the form of a tiny kitten, I picked it up, but it was dead; I didn't understand because it had just squealed, forlorn I picked it up, tried to revive it, gave it back to Doudou who licked it, I picked it back up before giving in and getting rid of it, it was very damp where it had been, It must have been newly born for when Doudou  moved across there was the tiny figure of yesterday's newcomer fit & well. After a minute or two Doudou left the house for a little wander, I followed her as she was acting strangely going from place to place, I couldn't see clearly in the dark but twice in different places she went as to go to the toilet, scratching and taking her time; it was too cold so I came back inside followed a few moments later by Doudou, now all is well with the two of them snuggled up contentedly together in the cardboard box.

Shame on them

 I've taken the WRU off my facebook 'like' as part of a campaign, not  because of its stupid action in the craven bootlicking of the higher establishment by appointing royalty, a person who together with his brother makes it obvious he  supports the white shirts, as an executive officer, there is that, but it's more to do with their otherwise seemingly forgetting what the 'W' stands for. Included amongst its many nuances is 'Cymraeg' the Welsh language but it isn't evident to anyone frequenting their stadia or having other dealings with them. They are reneging on their responsibilities & duties as a national body representing a bi-lingual country. As I would say back home "shame on them"