Back in October 2009 The Girl’s nursery teacher told me that the school’s Headmistress wanted to see The Boss and me at 1100 hours on the next Friday. My instinctive reaction was one of dread. It reminded me of those occasions during my education when I had been told to stand outside the Headmaster’s door… The Grammar school’s Head, ‘Barrel’, looked as you’d expect a man with that nick-name to look: very round, with an unruly shock of white hair…

            “What on earth is that noise?” I asked The Boss through a fog of sleep. Checking the bedside clock showed it to be three in the morning. “There it is again”, as a series of muffled thuds filtered into our bedroom. The Boss replied that it sounded like a basketball being bounced on the road outside our house. It is astonishing how quickly one can shift from sweet dreams to wide-awake. Fair leaping out of bed I bounded across…

The Tale of the Ring and other Tall Stories       My fellow insomniacs, all of a sudden it’s time to compose another page of drivel.  Believe it or not it is “composed” so you can only imagine what it might be like if it was written “al fresco” so to speak.  Since we last met, it has come to my attention from differing global sources (Splott and Cyncoed primarily) that there is some question about whether my scribblings have…