Amanda was working, and wanted to get on with some house chores, so I disappear with the kids to Wales for the weekend. On the way down on Friday evening we pass the Telford Steam Museum and it was Bradley who spots... Thomas Tank. We turn around, because I forgot the camera, and all Bradley can say to his Mum, "Omas Ank in ed." I'll translate, "Thomas Tank in shed." We watch him get filled up with coal and we're back on the road for the 2 hour journey. During which neither of them stops talking!

Look at that mountain in the background!
	Saturday: we're at the Cwmaman Community Education Centre. So, the Lottery does do some good. As my old man says, better it spent here than a few nights of bloody opera in London. There's a cinema which doubles as a theatre, community rooms, and most importantly a bar. I'm sure there's a lot more there, but I didn't see it all, I had four kids in tow. There was a bouncy castle at this fate, I'm not sure of the good cause, but it was a nice place to visit, about a mile further up the valley from my Mum's house. I just couldn't get over the location. These mountains look wonderful, if only they were in reach of broadband, I'd move there in a... Mind I'd have to consider the travelling to clients, but then I don't do much of that, most biz is on the phone, through the 'net...

Saturday night: why do kids want to play in dirt? Here they are, in the 'den' an old garage in the lane at the bottom of my Mum's lane. Well, I used to play in exactly the same place. The game is cleaning up the den, which involves scraping up stones and throwing them into the lane. Why this is so much fun, I begin to ponder, it must be the group activity, the common cause/task. All pulling together in harmony? Anyway, the game develops, my sister appears with some buckets and spades, and a bins comes from somewhere. Now, they are gathering all the dust as well as the stones, plumes of dust are coming out of the bin, and the game is christened, 'making fire.' It is not enough to gather the small amounts of stones from the den, now they're in the lane scooping up dust, and piling it into the bin in an organised, "keep the fire going" hurried procession. I watch in certain knowledge that my sister, my Mum, Alex's mum would all play merry hell if they could see this, and settle down in my watching seat with my beer.

Sunday. Bradley and Esme insist on taking a photo of me. The one of me bending down is by Bradley. He finds it difficult to look through the screen at the back of the camera, so I bend down as he pans slowly to the floor. Esme took a decent one, if it wasn't for the back lighting. If I had enough time to pause and check it out she could have taken another one, but the game's afoot and they move off to another possibly destructive venture, so I have to move with them and the moment is lost. The stable pix is funny. I ask them to stand back near the horse for a pix, slowly they get close once more, but this time there is more fear in the air, and Bradley copies Esme by clenching up their finger just in case the horse may bite them off. Of course, there's no chance of this, but it's a big horse! So no matter what I say, this is the only pix I'm getting of them with this horse. I've been into the museum at the visitor centre so many times, and I've never enough time to look at the panels. Now, as I see that the pix have come out reasonably well, I'll snap them and read them at my leisure.
In the Cwmdare Visitor Centre, having a cup of tea and pop and an ice cream. Behind my Dad's back is a TV which is all fuzzy, like someone's pulled the aerial out. He reads the poster next to it. Apparently there's a falcon's nest, and this is supposed to be a live feed.			I pull up some ferns and tell Charlotte (my niece), Bradley and Esme that they're umbrellas. We heard some thunder, and before we set out, the weather man got it all wrong. Big claps of thunder send Bradley running inside onto my lap. Esme was wary but as Charlotte was there, she was braver than normal.
While the other two use the fern to sweep the road behind them as they walk, Bradley, I think is a little bit nervous of the thunder returning.			Fun feeding the rabbits at the stables. Nice of them to put this here, though as my Mum suspects, it doesn't get many visitors, and I worry that the rabbits are a little too hungry, but I spy plenty of dried rabbit food in their run, and they're definitely not skinny. Bradley squeals with delight. I warn him they may bite his fingers so he's extra cautious.

1065 Also posted to: personal . At: 6:06:38 PM  . .
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Other title(s) for this story: Aberdare: Thomas Tank, Cwmdare Community Centre...

"The GIF graphics file format was invented by CompuServe in 1987. In the years since, a debate has been raging as to the correct way to pronounce "GIF": like "jif", or with a hard 'g' as in "gift" as a majority of Mac users seem to prefer. With this page I intend to clear this up once and for all..."

Well, that's clear. But I'll still call them 'ghiffs.' And Jay-pegs. And P.N.G.s Always has been always will be.

1064 Also posted to: cyberSaps . At: 2:29:36 PM  . .
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Other title(s) for this story: The GIF Pronunciation Page