400 smiles a day
here's lookin' at you

First time here? Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative: Children smile 400 times a day, adults just a miserable 14....   More

I observe many crows – jackdaws, actually, given the colour of their eyes – milling around some prostrate sheep. I switch the camera on and watch. Occasionally a bird will jump onto the back of a sheep, even onto its head. Trouble is, move closer and the birds fly away. But what are the jackdaws doing? They appear to be pecking away at the bums of the sheep. A swish of a tail – one sheep jumps up. Wel-i-jiw-jiw! The birds are plucking wool from the sheep, presumably for nesting purposes. The jumped-up sheep now looks, well, sheepish, unsure how to react to the brazen bird which just stands there as if saying “I want more!”. I manage to capture some images, which present a perfect opportunity to revisit the legendary tale of a local fellow caught making mad, passionate to his favourite sheep, Glad Eyes (Gwladys, actually) – and duly hauled before the beak (oops, really sorry, not) – except this time it’s in its true context...
 

"You have been found guilty of disturbing the fleece; You are a baaaaa-d bird -	- and you mutton do it again. An ASBO (Antisocial Bird Order) for you my flighty friend; clip its wings."

Stop Press: Man found growing in tree
 

If only lambs could read

If you’re going on a diet, may I suggest that you buy a huge tin of red paint, and then paint the word TUBBY across every dish and plate – and as you clear your food the word TUBBY slowly reveals itself – and if that doesn’t make you stop eating…
 

If I catch you chatting up the wife just one more time
 

Wotcha mean what’s happened to our motorcycle and sidecar?
 

“... and Timbuktu!”

Spontaneous adult laughter is difficult to capture. This snap of Chichi (the “ch” is the throaty Welsh sound as opposed to the tip-of-the-tongue English one, albeit that the English Panda-sounding name would be interesting), Phil and Lici (forever Adrian, Phillip and Alan to their mums) was taken on a pub safari from the White Hart, Llandeilo to the Talbot Hotel at Tregaron, mid-Wales – actually during the return journey, at the Dolau Cothi Arms, Pumpsaint. Adrian on the left is the minibus driver, which proves that you do not have to partake of alcohol to have a good laugh, although it must have helped that the rest of us were flying high on low flyers (Famous Grouse Scotch Whisky, as I recall). The photo was taken with Sony’s smallest breast-pocket camera, without a flash – astonishing things digital cameras. Oh, the punch line? It’s that delightful old tale of an English schoolteacher, in the days before obscure language went obscene, instructing his class to write a poem which must include the word Timbuktu. All goes well until little Tommy Tucker (since changed name by deed poll and now called Brian) stands up…

Me and Tim awenching went,
Met three birdies in a tent;
But they were three and we were two,
So I bucked one and Timbuktu!
 

And here are three birdies I pulled earlier…

…from the River Towy (Afon Tywi to we who speak the two spokes). Following every flood I’m taken aback at what remains when the waters recede. Now we always hear of the astonishing items beachcombers find, but every beach has the world’s oceans as its bottom drawer. Where I walk the Towy, from its source it only has around 25 crow-miles to pick up its rubbish (excluding its tributaries, obviously). The 3 little toys above I collected within a few hundred yards after one particular flood. Where do they all come from? Amazing.