HOLIDAY POSTCARDS

You might have noticed from the strange smorgasbord of eclectic postings last week, scraped from the very barrel of unpublished nonsenses, that I'm just back from a short holiday, a much needed break from which, incidentally, I entirely failed to send any postcards to anyone.

So, if you were hoping to get one - a most unlikely state of mind to expect anyone to get into, I'll grant you - then I'm very sorry to tell you that you won't be. Don't stay indoors waiting for the postie to deliver one to you, because it isn't going to happen, no matter how much you may linger hopefully and pine for such a delightful outcome.

Writing postcards seems to have become yet another of those things which I fail to do and them allow myself to get beaten about the head with a metaphorical stick about.

What I did do, however, is take far, far too many photographs. Far more than any normal week in Wales ought to require. Well, I say photographs, but what I really mean is snapshots taken to try and remind me of my week of freedom as and when the vice-like grip of life starts to crush me all over again.

Most of my snapshots - like this one - are very, very dull indeed, but there's a lot of inspiration amongst the snappery which will probably be enough to keep these pages ticking over for quite a few postings yet. However, if they get us through to Christmas, there's a fair old chance that I'll have been overdoing it and you, my loyal reader, will be heartily sick of hearing about one short week at the height of summer when that summer is far behind us all and we're shivering in the darkness once again.

Still, in the meantime, perhaps these postings will help to fill in the gaps and sort of act as substitute postcards to all of you who I have so recklessly abandoned in the pursuit of peace and quiet and a week of escaping from the maddening crowd...