The Rubber Room

2nd March 2018

Yesterday was St. David's day. A day people will only know because Google told them. How sad. 

No Welsh flags flying outside the pubs, No giant leeks made out of canvas and stuffed with fluff in a sweat shop in China and certainly no Welsh beer on. Not a mention of how the Welsh longbows kicked the Frenches arses on many a battlefield and definitely no daffodils in peoples lapels.

Yet. In a couple of weeks it will be St. Patrick's day. The pubs will be green with flags, Guinness and Murphy's will flow from the pumps like water and everyone will dress up in oversized leprechaun hats and silly ginger wigs. The worst part about this entire fiasco is the fact that most of these people will be English. Wankers.

The Paddy's have done nothing but fight against England since day one, even though their island is only still afloat because of them. Wales supplied the coal for the industrial revolution, the iron for the machinery, the timber for the buildings. It's been a test ground for nuclear plants and many other demented government plans. Also let us not forget Terry Jones, Richard Burton and Sir Anthony Hopkins to name but a few.

In short. Why the fook do we care so much about St. Paddy's day anyway? They can kiss my blarney stone.

Well that's my take/ rant about the fact no one seems to care about Wales or the Welsh. I feel the need now to complain about my back, or, as the doctors tell me, my neck. Inflamed muscles they say. Can't sit at my precious computer and moan for very long or make models or even mod my beautiful Morrowind.

Saying that. I am in the middle of making a Tudor house in ten minute spurts then back to lying flat on my back and reading my books. May just have to make this one on Twitch. Simple though they are to make, I suppose they can be interesting and it gives me a sense of purpose.

Right I'm off. Have to get my back flat and read my Sharpe books for a bit.