We visited St Fagans Museum of Welsh Life to-day. My word was it cold! The museum was opened in 1948 and houses forty reconstructed buildings charting the history of Welsh life. A barn, chapel, medieval church, miners cottages and even prefabricated bungalows ( prefabs ) provide the visitor with a fascinating insight into life in centuries past. What is particularly good about this open-air museum is the fact that the buildings have been carefully dismantled in-situ and then reconstructed on site at St Fagans. No fakes here I’m glad to say. And it’s free. Unfortunately the prefabs weren’t open but I remember being fascinated with them last time we visited. I had no idea that thousands of people still live in these amazing utility-style homes constructed as a result of the 1944 Temporary Housing Programme. They were built in aircraft factories during the war with around 153,000 eventually pouring off the production lines at a rate of one every twelve minutes. What I like about them is the fact that they were built as temporary dwellings but have long outlived their original concept with many occupants remaining very attached to their prefabs, having lived in them since the late 1940s. Their utilty style is also a wonderful reminder of stark post-war life with a low-cost, standardised approach to design and interior decoration. St Fagans has a ‘Type B2′ exhibit which I wish I had photographed but regrettably forgot to do so. In the meantime, some pictures from our day…

We went to the Newport Wetlands bird reserve this afternoon for a walk. It was pretty cold but bright. I wish I could say I took some photographs of some interesting feathered specimens but the only suspects spotted were three birds sitting on a wooden bench ( see below ). Walking round the reserve I realised how much I was missing running. It’s been two months now and I really have to get back out again in the New Year. I feel so lazy at the moment and it’s chilly, clear days like to-day which make me long to put on my trainers and get pounding those streets.  My plan is to run 5 days out of 7 next year in a bid to increase and maintain my fitness levels. However I have a few more days of indulgence and am happy to report that following our walk I was lucky enough to be able to indulge in one of Denise’s trolleys with a couple of Campari and orange chasers. In the meantime I’ve attached a few pictures which include 3 birds on a bench and a rare viewing of that most illusve of sights: Ian with a cleaning implement in his mother’s kitchen.

It is with great sadness and regret that I have to report that Ian has a cold. That’s sadness and regret for us not Ian as we’re the ones who are suffering. The diagnosis follows seven sneezes over a 24 hour period and a dry cough. We ruled our Beri Beri and Dengue Fever but we are still keeping the house on Critical Alert should symptoms worsen ( like they actually start to resemble a cold ). Unfortunately Ian didn’t pass a peaceful night, three coughs and a sneeze causing him much discomfort. At one point we regretted not fitting a panic button for him should his condition have suddenly worsened. Still, we look forward to to-day and hearing some of Ian’s most popular phrases when stricken with a cold:

1. I feel so rough….er hem…er hem..(dry cough)

2. You’ll get this next and then you’ll know what it’s like ( spiteful )

3. Could I ask you to bring me a lemsip ?…sigh…( tragic )

4. I haven’t slept all nght – I’m exhausted ( me too mate – you’ve been shuffling and sighing for hours )

5. Oh – it’s really starting to come out now – I’m full of it ( Yes. You are )

…and my own personal favourite reminiscent of the M&S More Than Just Food adverts:

6. ‘ This isn’t just a cold…this is more than a cold.’ ( Give me strength……)

man flu

1973 put in an appearance at my parent’s house today; Christmas Day 2008. Take a bottle of Advocaat, mix with Lime Cordial and Lemonade and you have that iconic drink: the Snowball. Reminiscent of Terry and June and Man about the House, Snowballs are the Queen of all ’70s drinks. Christmas lunch came and went and then it was time for the Snowballs. They remind me of childhood Christmasses when the adult female members of the party would indulge in a little advocaat. As eight and five year olds, Helen and I would be given lemonade and lime – somehow not quite the same sans the yellow Warninks gloop. I have memories of Mum in a long black dress with chiffon sleeves, wearing her charm bracelet, enjoying her annual Snowball. So, we decided to recreate the moment this afternoon and here for your delight are the results: Jason, my brother in law, doing his best impression of ‘not quite with it’ grumpy old man in the corner, an old bird from the local residential home and the only sensible member of the party pulling a cork…

Tofu was waiting in her normal place this morning dead on time – 0730am sharp. She likes the pot with the Japanese Maple as it’s full of chippings which I think keeps her scrawny back end warm. Now I think Tofu is beautiful but she has been described by others as ‘rancid’, ‘flea-ridden’ and ‘past sell by date.’ I however see character in my feline friend – I say my – she lives down the road and sometimes I wonder if her owners realise the treats that she enjoys at ours’. This morning – as it is Christmas – I selected Waitrose organic Tuna White Meat with Tiger Prawn in Gravy. Normally I buy Gourmet Pearl for her because it has a picture of a white persian cat on the front which I hope she will eventually morph into if I keep feeding her it. But I decided today that she should have something a little more up market. She is happy. I am happy because she is happy. Ian is happy becuase I am happy. Amazing what a 59p tin of cat food can buy. So, heres to you Tofu, my aged cat: A Very Happy Christmas. And please don’t crap on our lawn when we’re away.

Well it’s Christmas Eve and Ian and I are indulging in our traditional Christmas Eve movie; the wonderful National Lampoons Christmas Vacation. We’ve just finished our Indian Banquet For Two Box Set and are now enjoying Chevy Chase. It’s just always funny. And I have to confess to having had my very own Chevy Chase moment at the week-end when I put up the Christmas tree. Two very long double strands of coloured lights all bundled together in a bag. Error. Having spent nearly an hour and a half untangling them and a great deal of time cussing and a ’swearing, the moment finally arrived. I plugged them in anticipating a Joy To the World moment. Dead. Bulbs had blown as a result of the untangling. I saw the funny side. Not.