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stegzy – Can I help? Student – The printer’s acting weird. stegzy – Is it dancing round the library wearing a hat pretending to be a giraffe? Student – eh?
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““The great masses of the people will more easily fall victims to a big lie than to a small one.”” – Adolf Hitler It’s been years since I did an International Fib Day. Ok I did a poll last year and the day has moved around more than a cigarette lighter in a washing machine
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On my journey southwards on Friday I witnessed several pranged cars, idiots undertaking, buffoons changing lanes late and several near misses. It got me wondering why, in an early Friday evening, people seemed to be in a rush to get places. It also struck me that most of the drivers, if not all of the
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Way back when, in the time of never-never. Before sinister government face recognition software trawled tagged helpfully pictures on Facebook adding your face to the giant database that “does not exist”. Before the twin towers fell. Before the millennium of anti-climax. A much anticipated event occurred. Warnings in the estoteric press and from hippies and
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Imagine nobody had a garden. Then one day somebody says “Hey look! I’ve got a garden!” people would come looking at the garden and go “Wow! This is cool, I would like a garden too”. Then gradually people started making gardens. Eventually, the majority of people had a garden. The impressiveness of the first garden
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I had intended this trip to be one of solitude. Solitude is overrated. Zoe left at lunch time and shortly after I went for a 3 mile walk on the top of Mynnedd Rhiw. As you can tell from the pictures the weather had turned in sympathy to my mood. Grey and miserable. The rain
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Failure to find Chinese food the night before, lack of reception, difficulty in finding a small portable radio and realising that few places take cards in these parts brings home how remote this place can be. Warnings of weather changes ahead start to foster concern in my mind. The likelihood being that my holiday may
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Went to sleep to the sounds of dogs barking and woke to the sounds of a murder of crows attacking, what I later discovered was, binbags. 5am – Nobody about. Dense fog across the land. How is it that the most beautiful place in the world can hide itself under a blanket of cloud? How
The Compostual Existentialist 