GhostOfClayton : Dragonhunter
Entry posted by GhostOfClayton
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Hello loyal followers, and welcome to the GhostOfClayton twice-fortnightly blog. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Apologies
First, I know that if this were a truly twice-fortnightly blog, this entry would have appeared last week sometime. I am the type of man who, if something needs doing practically throughout December, that says, "I just want to get Christmas and New year out of the way, and then I'll get on with it . . . ". (I know, ladies. That describes ALL men!). And, surprise-surprise, I did the same with my blog. I have no excuse to give you. Normal service will, hopefully, be resumed when I get motivated again.
New Year
A Happy New Year to you all. I really hope 2011 brings you health and happiness. What more could you ask for? We've squeezed out and used up the last drop of 2010, so it's time to crack open a whole new bottle of 2011 and see what that brings us all. But before we do, it seems to be the fashion on the telly to look back at 2010, and dig up the past in terms of some sort of 'review of the year'. It's a cheap and easy way to fill column inches, so I will now jump happily onto that bandwagon.
Old Year
I started 2010 at the small club (pictured) in the sleepy little village of Aquis-of-the-Romans, in the company of Mrs OfClayton and the couple who live at the end of our garden (that is to say, their garden abuts OfClayton Towers' garden - they're not hermit folk who have moved in near our blackberry bush, or anything.) Aquis-of-the-Romans Club is hard to describe. It is not some kind of entertainment hotspot like The Phoenix Club in Phoenix Nights. It is small, overdue a makeover, severely lacking in funds, and 90% of the time, the clientele consist solely of the small knot of men who congregate around the bar, with the air of blokes that've done the exact same thing every night of their drinking lives thus far. Other than 'the knot', a couple of ladies who (as near as I could tell) spent the whole evening playing the bandit, and us four, there were very few people in. We spent the evening feeding coins into the juke box and pool table, so that we could listen to 80s music, and play pool. Something I haven't done since I wasted my youth as a bit of a snooker-shark at college, when I should've been learning stuff.
January saw Mrs OfClayton's birthday. I whisked her off to Pateley Bridge for the weekend. Nice weekend spoilt a little by use of a B&B that didn't live up to its web page.
February - I was scheduled to take a nice, cheap skiing holiday in France with 'the lads'. However, one by one they dropped out until there was just me. I really didn't want to go without my annual pilgrimage to the Alps, so I bit the bullet and blew my entire 2009 royalties cheque on the last bed in The Dolomites during half term week. This was so I could go skiing with OfClayton Nephew 1 of 3 (I think he has a name, but I find it easier to number them, much like the Borg in Star Trek) and his Dad. Once the shock of the cost had worn off, it was a darn good holiday. Excellent snow in an excellent resort. If you ski, the Dolomites is a Bucket List place to do it. I'm SO glad I did.
After Easter, 'The Season' started. Fortunately, I hadn't been allocated any tours in 2010 that involved me speaking a foreign language, so it was all easy-peasy and to a large extent, 'same-old, same-old'. My favourite tour continues to be Hadrian's Wall, and a stint on Jersey was the only new destination this year. Unremarkable, and not as nice as Guernsey, where I did a stint in 2009, and will do another in 2011.
This was followed by an unfortunate event. Following a worried call from one of his friends, I had to dash back to Aquis-of-the-Romans to check on OfClayton Snr. He had been mysteriously and suspiciously incommunicado all day, despite his car being in the drive. Shockingly, I found him immobile and semi conscious on his kitchen floor following a massive stroke. He spent a month in hospital, and then another month in care. Once back home, three carers visited him each day, along with regular visits by various therapists. However, following the notorious government cuts that the UK is currently undergoing, the plug was pulled on all that support, and he now has to live independently. Something that I don't believe he is capable of. It is very upsetting to see a once vibrant and active man, reduced to spending his days in front of the telly, unable to entertain himself or go anywhere further than a short walk up the road and back. He is all but a prisoner in his own home.
August saw a death in the family. I am, of course, referring to the GhostMobile Mk I, which finally passed away following a long and painful (financially) illness. My mechanic advised me not to spend another penny on it, with the look of a doctor telling a family that it was time to consider switching off the life-support. Considering the thing had probably been financing a playboy lifestyle for him for a number of months, and would continued to have done so, it was very honest of him, and I had to take his advice seriously. So, it was whisked across the River Styx by Charon (in the guise of the man from 'webuyanycarnomatterwhatapileofshiteitispleaseexcusemyfrench.com') to Automotive Elycium. It did, however, have one last trick up its sleeve to keep me from mourning its passage. Outstanding finance from a previous owner! However, Charon sent a few faxes and e-mails, and eventually sorted it all out for me. Note to self: Caveat Emptor!
Living, as I do, in Aquis-of-the-Romans, which is about as far north as one can go without falling into the Abus Fluvius, a car is a necessary evil, and so I had to bite the bullet and buy another. I therefore welcomed the GhostMobile Mk II to the family. Now I am NOT, to any degree whatsoever, a petrolhead, but I ended up with (I won't bore you with how or why), a very sporty little number complete with a spoiler, god knows how many horsepower, and only two doors. Very unlike me. I have to admit, though. After a month or two of very steady driving, I found myself in a situation where I had to put my toe down. Wow! I was thrown back into my seat by the acceleration. For a few days after that, I found myself driving like a teenage boy, and practically drooling at the opportunity to accelerate away from lights, etc. In short, I found myself turning into Jeremy Clarkson (pictured) - for those on the other side of The Pond, Jeremy Clarkson is more probably than not, the bastard love child of Geroge Bush Snr and Christine O'Donnel, put up secretly for adoption and brought up by a family in Doncaster, unaware of the child's destiny as the BBC's arch-Climate Change denier. I have since settled down and started to drive like a normal person, though I am still occasionally troubled by unnatural desires to get a perm.
September saw me and three chums take on The Brecon Beacons Way, a long distance footpath across the Brecon Beacons mountain range in South Wales. Starting on the Holy Mountain and ending in Bethlehem, it sounds a bit like a Christian Pilgrimage. It isn't. Bethlehem, in this case, is a tiny little village near Carmarthen. A very tough 7-day hike, made all the more so by terrible weather. Still, despite the requirement for some natty navigation when visibility was down to only a scant few metres, we did make it to the end, no doubt better individuals for our adventure.
October saw the birth of OfClayton Nephew 3 of 3, courtesy of Mrs OfClayton's brother and his wife. He is a very contented little soul, apart from whenever Mrs OfClayton holds him, when he starts to cry until he is handed back to his mother. OfClayton Niece 1 of 1 was the same with me when she was young, and now she seems to like me, so I'm not too worried. But then again, she once asked me what I do for a living, to which I responded, "I hunt dragons." She is yet to reach a level of maturity where she will question that. What an exciting fictitious life I lead! (If you are troubled by Dragons, give me a call, I'll send you a business card.)
November: This was a scant 35 days ago - why can't I remember it?
December saw northern Britain covered by a significant blanket of snow, which in Aquis-of-the-Romans lasted until Christmas. Life pretty much had to go on hold for many folk. OfClayton Towers, though, had been crying out since 2005 for a new bathroom. It finally got it just in time for Christmas. The snow cleared in time for us to 'see-in' 2011. Once again in the Club, but this time a booking complication at another venue meant that a disco ended up there. What with that, and me rounding up a few more folk from the village, there was a jolly atmosphere in the place, and a great night was had by all.
Weekly stuff resumes
It is now just 36 days until the Eagle of the Ninth is released in the USA, and 82 until it's released in the UK.
Asterix book of the week is 'Asterix the Gladiator'.
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