new toy

the way-too-excited image i texted jared... he probably expects nothing less at this point

dslr, meet slr... slr, this is dslr... let's be friends. 

Remember I mentioned that birthday treat? This is it. Introducing the beautiful Nikon D5100.

There is a conga line parading through my head whenever I think about this thing. Should I love a thing so much? Should it occupy my mind as much as it does? Should I eat less cheese in order to regain the waistline I had in college?

The answer you're looking for is "No way! Love on! Dream on! EAT MORE CHEESE!" 


(You should also be saying "What? No way, you look just as fabulous as you did in college when you were only eating 700 calories a day and working out 5 days a week...")

(Yeah, 'cause that was healthy...)

Thank you Daddy and Maw Maw for this amazing gift. Truly.

Fancy new photos to be posted soon.

I've already taken about 300. 

birthday tradition

weekly gratitude

thank you yellow shoes that make me smile

There is no better time than my 25th birthday to keep a written account of all the things I have to be thankful for. For a quarter century now I have been shown immense love, incredible grace and oftentimes more to be thankful for than I know what to do with. This past year has been at once the keeper of some of the highest highs (among other things, meeting my sweet nephew Jack) and some of the lower lows I've ever experienced (you all know what happened there... And if you don't, just play along, smile and nod and know that it wasn't the best of times... It was in fact one of the worst of times).

Still, when you've been through hell, you tend to appreciate heaven (totally scamming that off a Chrysler ad I saw in Real Simple, but the sentiment remains true). And so, without further ado as I try to nod off into the next year of my life, I will count my blessings instead of sheep...

1. Thank you for 25 years of life. Enough said.

2. Thank you for friends who love me and take care of me and protect me and make me smile and make me laugh (and make me laugh until I cry) and hug me when I'm sad and pick me up when I fall and remind me who I am and make me a better person and take me seriously (and don't take me seriously) and have my back and watch out for me... And buy me beers to celebrate another year.

3. Thank you for parents who love me absolutely unconditionally, without question, never failing, unending and perfectly... And who send me emails like this (sorry Dad, had to share it):

So...25 years ago, right about now, I was talking to your mom on the phone

...Cause I found a note she left on my pillow, and she was all tucked in at Kaiser P. Walnut Creek...and I had MawMaw, and PawPaw...and Grammy all settled in, and I was about to TRY to sleep...till about 5am...and then, my world was about to start the big change...my world was about to actually start...at 8:28am, Thursday, September 4, 1986!

What a ride!!!

GOD has shown HIS grace...and I am thankful!

Love,

Dad-n

Oh... I am one grateful little girl. 

Memories of my Father

It's been a great Sunday.

I've spent much of this quiet day re-living my youth but more so than that, doing so in the company of my father.

Dad died over 8 years ago back in June 2003 and it goes without saying that life has never been the same since. As with any family bereavement, the memories that you have of a lost loved one stays with you and helps them to live on even after death.

A Man of Photography
With Dad, we also had the added bonus of having not just those memories in our mind, but also down on film as photography and recording was one of his life-long hobbies and passions.

In his youth, Dad used to have his own dark room on our Hungerford Farm home where he would develop his own photographs. He also took photos on the old fashioned slides and every Christmas without fail as a child I would wait in anticipation for him to set up the screen and the projector in the living room to show us these slides with photos from the 1960s and 1970s.

As technology developed, Dad didn't hesitate to move with the times. By the late 1980s, the 'You've Been Framed' generation had arrived with the fashionable coming of the hand-held video recorder and Dad took to this new form of photography and filming like a duck to water.

My Memories of that Hand-Held Recorder
This is the period of his life that I recall vividly as a child growing up at that time. If he wasn't out on the farm milking the cows or bringing in the silage, he would be in his bedroom, playing with his editing suite as he put the music and the words to the images that he had taken.

Dad was an artistic man. Though he left school as soon as he could due to a dislike of the formal structures of a formal education, aged 14 in around 1950, he always had an eye for the moment.

From around 1988-1995, he filmed almost anything that moved. I have been reminded of this today by watching his video from 1993 and also his 'Official' Dyfed Shire Horse Farm video which he compiled to showcase the work of a traditional farm for visitors to watch on our open farm. In those two reams of film, there stands an example of all of the weird and wonderful things that Dad enjoyed filming. Be it life at home on the farm with the filming of the cattle going out onto grass for the first time in spring, or holidays in North Wales and Windsor and the Wye Valley with me and mum (and all of the farm visits that went with them!), or of my sister's graduation in Bath University, or of live Truck Racing (Dad's other big passion was motorsport) or of local events like Narbeth's Winter Carnival, Dad was interested and would be there with his camera to capture the moment.

Just watching these two tapes today, they spoke of a man who had an interest in human nature and in nature itself. In particular, I can always recall those videos that he would edit and put together of quiet natural moments. In the video from 1993 alone he quietly filmed the sunsets over Landshipping and Lawrenny and the Eastern Cleddau river meandering its way down through Gelli, Llawhaden, Canaston Bridge and Blackpool Mill. Nothing exciting to watch in itself you may think? But this was nature and it was clearly something that Dad enjoyed greatly.

The Music
What also resonates with me down the years and which struck home again today was the music that he would put to the footage. There would be some pieces of filming that would have no background sound but in the vast majority of cases, as well as including a written description of the event being shown, he would add a layer of fitting music that would add to the scene.

This had its greatest impact in those moments when he was filming nature. A scene of the River Teifi flowing over Cenarth Falls with the background music of a Strauss Waltz was entirely fitting for that moment. This was Dad's way. I've often said that my eclectic and wide ranging taste in music is due in large part to my Father and that can be seen in the musical pieces that he used for his home-made videos. Why do I love classical music? How come that Strauss is a particular favourite of mine? Why have I got a soft spot for pan-pipe music? Why does the Wurlitzer sound resonate so much with me? Why does ABBA'S instrumental 'Arrival' mean so much to me? Simply because these and more were the sounds that I heard throughout my childhood as my father would use them to go with his works of art.

The irony of this is that very rarely would my Dad make an appearance on film during this period because invariably it would be he who would be filming behind the camera. He did however make more of an appearance in the 'official' farm video and his commentary over it all was informative for the viewer who may have had no understanding of the farming, rural way of life. But what they captured were a glimpse into the world of my father - his interests, his passions, his loves.

VHS to DVD
It is one of my greatest frustrations that with the on-set of my busy political life over the past 8 years or so since Dad died, I have never got around to converting these VHS recordings onto DVD for posterity. Over the years, some of the videos have deteriorated and will need some work done to them before they can be converted. Some are worse than others although on the whole, they're not in bad shape. There are some like the videos I watched today that on watching them, seem as if they were only put together by my father yesterday and not 20 years ago, such is the clear quality of the picture.

So having dusted them off and reminded myself of this crucial link to my father, it's now time to guarantee that future generations can enjoy these sounds and sights of the late 1980s and early 1990s well into the 21st century.

A Splendid Cardigan Show!

It's been a great day.

I've spent the day at Cardigan Agricultural Show and in the many years that I have attended the show, it has probably been the best that I can recall.

It was the 157th Cardigan Show since it was formed in 1854 and in its day it was I gather the biggest one day show in Wales. My grandfather J.R.Lewis I'm told was a previous President of the Show and was an avid competitor. Over the years my family have continued our proud association by competing regularly with our Shire Horses in his memory. It was therefore a great personal privelage for me to be the Patron of the Show two years ago in 2009 when I was the Mayor of Cardigan.

It remains a big event and today I felt was the best that I have experienced.

Traditionally held on the last Wednesday in July, the sun was shining today and we had a wonderful view looking down from our high vantage point towards the estuary and Cardigan Island. There was a great crowd to visit a large number of stalls, the exhibitions and of course to watch the competitions. I was attending today as the Vice-Chair of Ceredigion County Council and was therefore invited for the second time to have lunch with the President -this year, local insurance broker Delwyn Griffiths. I also spent time accompanying Mark Williams MP around the show and in the afternoon, my Alyson joined us! We called in to see my mum who was in charge of the CADAMM (Cardigan and District Agricultural and Maritime Museum) stand - it's always felt like a family affair to me such is our association with the show!

When I was Mayor in 2009, we had to contend with heavy and muddy ground after torrential rain on the eve of the show - to such an extent that many vehcicles had to be towed out! Not today however as the sun shone down on us righteous people of Cardigan and district and helped ensure that the atmosphere throughout was positive and enthusiastic.

A big well done and thanks to the Show Committee for planning, co-ordinating and executing a fine event once more.

Roll on Cardigan Show 2012!

My Weird and Wonderful Lib Dem Family

It's been a long weekend away in London.

The primary reason for my visit was to attend Andrew Reeves' Memorial Service in the Union Chapel, Islington, yesterday afternoon. I blogged about my long trip to pay my respects at his Edinburgh funeral last month and I wanted to do the same with his friends in London at his memorial service.

As I rarely visit London more than once a year and hadn't done so since last summer, I took this sad reason for a visit to clear my diary and to make a long weekend stay of it to catch up with old friends. What it has reminded me is that I am a very fortunate person in that as well as having my own family here in west Wales and my family of University friends, I also have a full-on pseudo-family of Liberal Democrats who span the length and breadth of Britain and it is a family that continues to grow.

The Aberystwyth Link
I arrived in London on the National Express from Swansea at 5pm on Saturday and met up as planned with old Aberystwyth University Liberal Democrat friends Alistair Mills, Jo Gudgeon and Beth Fullana at their home in Clapham where I stayed the night. They shared a house in Aberystwyth back in 2005 and 6 years later, are recently back doing the same again! I'd stayed with Alistair and Jo at their previous Clapham address back in 2009 but I hadn't seen Beth since she graduated so it was great to see them all together again and it felt as if nothing had changed from those golden Mark Williams campaigning days of 2004/2005 which resulted, with help from this great gang, in Mark's election to Parliament that May.

It got even better because I then met with more old faces from the same era as their close friends Simon Columb and his partner Sarah Meadows happened to be celebrating their mutual birthdays on that same night as I was in town. I was invited along and it was great to see them again (Simon has a really good film blog at http://screeninsight.blogspot.com/ for those who are interested) and also another member of the gang, Kaff Cornwall. After a meal by Clapham Common, we went on to the local club 'Infernos' where by sheer randon chance, we bumped into another Aber Lib Dem alumni Malcolm James who I last saw in Brussels when he was working with NATO back in 2007 - he's now working with the MoD. The chances of randomly seeing him on the dance floor of a club in Clapham must be up there with winning the Euromillions. Absolutely staggering but brilliant all the same!

Lib Dems Nation-wide
The Aberystwhyth link continued because on Sunday and Monday evening, I stayed with great mate and fellow Welsh Liberal Democrat Sarah Green and her fiance Luke Croydon in Shepherd's Bush as I have also done before. We used to share a house togeher with other friends in what was my 5th and final year as a student in Aberystwyth (again, that fateful year of 2004/2005) in the Trefechan area of town.

Before I checked in with her and Luke for the evening and a pub quiz with their friends (in which we came a frustratingly decent but could've been better 3rd place), I'd spent much of the day with another good Liberal Democrat friend Hywel ap Dafydd who has been unwell recently and who I visited in University College Hospital near Euston. I've known Hywel as a fellow Pembrokeshire lad but who has spent much of his time around the country helping the party in numerous by-elections and also particularly in London and Bristol. My fondest memory of Hywel is when he accidentally locked himself in the HQ toilet on the day of the Blaenau Gwent by-election some years back. Much of our time on that day was taken up by trying to get Hywel out of that toilet!!

On Monday, I met up at Trafagar Square with good friend Anders Hanson who is now a top bod at ALDC but who has worked in his time for Nick Clegg, Chris Huhne and also as the Mid & West Wales regional organiser back in the 2003 Assembly election campaign, based in our Ceredigion office on North Parade. It was then, as a young and keen student member that I first met him and it was nice to catch up with him over lunch before Andrew's memorial service.

Andrew Reeves' Lib Dem Family
It was an excellent turnout at Andrew's memorial service for his partner Roger and I have re-produced photos of the order of service in this blog post to show off what was a brilliant pink theme for the occasion (to which I added my brand of colour with pink-ish shirt and pink-ish tie). I'm sure Andrew would've been bemused at the spectacle but would've chuckled away at the same time. Neil Fawcett blogged here of his recollections of Andrew which sum up the man as well as anyone did in the service itself.

Caron Lindsay has also blogged here about the service itself and I can't add any more to what she said other than that it showed just how strong we are as a party. It was Simon Hughes who said (I'm pretty sure) that it is at sad occasions such as this, that we show that we're not just a party, but a family.

His words particularly rang true to me as we all raised a drink in Andrew's memory afterwards in the chapel bar (yes, you read that correctly!). I bumped into Pete Dollimore there and we caught up briefly and I noted that I only ever saw him at the bar in conference and now here we were, at a bar, at a wake. It was all slightly surreal and so it continued. Seeing good colleagues who I have not seen in some time like former Aberystwyth student Adrian Smith, top trainer-extraoinnaire Candy Piercy, Sally Burnell who I hadn't seen since she worked in Cardiff back in 2003 (full marks to her for picking me out of a crowd because I'm hopeless at such things!), Grace Goodlad and Duncan Borrowman who I also haven't seen in a long time (but who I recall first meeting as a couple when Duncan led a Pageplus artwork designing course in Cardiff back in around 2006) as well as those who I have seen more recently in conferences such as Rhiannon Wadeson and Chris Leaman, Austin Rathe and Katy Riddle, Lucy Watt and Laura Gilmore as well as countless others from across the country emphasised the point more than words could express.

Because, we are a family. We don't always get on with each other, there's often disagreements and arguments but there's a common bond that ties us all together. We all happen to believe that a liberal progressive Britain is the kind that we'd like for future generations and we have all made the decision back in our mutual lives, that the best way to bring about this positive change is through the Liberal Democrats. Like a family, we see it through the good times and also (quite aptly at present) through the challenging times. Like a family, we are so spread out around the country that we often only see each other at weddings or funerals and in our case also of course, conferences. We're a rag-bag of oddities with our quirks, our annoyances, our hobbies and our passions.

Most of all, like a family, we're there for each other in times of need and it was in that kindred spirit of mutual support and care that we gathered at Andrew's funeral in Edinburgh and again yesterday, at his Memorial Servce in London.

I'm sure that Andrew was proud of his weird and wonderful Lib Dem family and this weekend has proved to me if it didn't need proving already, that I am likewise incredibly and fiercely proud to be a small part of this wonderful extended family.

Dyfed Celt Troops the Colour! **Photo Special**

Back in the old year, I blogged about a real Dick Whittington style story as our family's Shire Horse, Dyfed Celt embarked on a new life in London with the Queen's Household Cavalry.

I blogged then of Celt's debut in the Household Cavalry during the Emir of Qatar's State Visit at Windsor Castle.

Now, aged only 6 years old and less than 3 years after we sold him, he was the pride of west Wales as he took centre stage at Horseguards Parade during the annual Trooping of the Colour parade to celebrate the Queen's Official Birthday last Saturday.

My brother Huw and his family went down to London to see the event in person. I was delighted after an emotional few days in Edinburgh, to be able to watch it on TV as our hero carried out his responsibilities as one of only two drum horses on display in front of the Queen and her family and millions of television viewers.

His official name was also finally disclosed after months of waiting. Whilst his stable name will remain as Dyfed Celt, his name for official functions will now be Mercury! He also has the rare distinction of having been given an honourary rank in the British Army as a Major!

So please enjoy on this page, thanks to the eagled eyed camera lense of Preseli Pembrokeshire's MP Stephen Crabb, the first photos of Major Mercury strutting his stuff for Queen and country!

Well done Celt! As a family, we're all very proud of you!

Tragedy at Pembroke Oil Refinery

The news this evening is that 2 people have been killed in an explosion caused by a collision at the Chevron oil refinery near Pembroke in west Wales.

Details are sketchy at present and it is not sure whether it was two petrol tankers that collided with one another or otherwise at 6.30pm this evening but in addition to the unconfirmed fatalities, it is said that one man has been flown by air ambulance to Morriston Hospital in Swansea with burns injuries.

The site, which can refine 220,000 barrels of crude oil a day into petrol and other products, first came on stream in 1964. The refinery was initially owned by the Regent Oil Company, a large domestic marketer of Trinidad-produced oils. Regent was fully acquired by Texaco in 1956. Today the refinery is owned and branded by the Chevron Corporation, as a result of their acquisition of Texaco. Chevron put the refinery up for sale in late 2009, and have agreed the sale for £750M to Valero Energy Corporation



Relatives of friends of mine work at the plant and indeed my father's brother, my Uncle Desmond worked at the plant for many many years when it was owned by Texaco before he retired in the late 1990s. He passed away in 1999 and his retirement present from his colleagues at the Texaco plant, a large wooden mantlepiece clock with an engraved plaque now takes pride of place in my living room here in Cardigan. So this has come as quite a shock as one who knows of the area extremely well.

Indeed, I blogged here back in September of my many Pembrokeshire haunts and as I said then, one of those is the eery village of Rhoscrowther which sits in the shadow of this giant of 20th century energy production. I actually passed by the refinery only last summer on a random day-trip tour of the county with Matt King who needed ingratiating in many of our fine castles. I asked him to indulge my need to visit the village which my parents told me as a child had been cleared in the 1960s in preparation for the coming of the new refinery. All that remains now of what was an old medieval village is it's church and a few old pre-fab houses. Standing above it all, is this huge refinery. You really have to go there to realise just how much it overwhelmes the visual senses.

Tonight, it and everyone connected with it is in a state of shock as what looks to have been an awful accident has resulted in fatal consquences. My thoughts are with those families who are associated with this 1,400 strong operation at this deeply distressful time.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Post Script
The news this morning is that 4 people have been killed with Dyfed-Powys Police saying that the explosion was in a 730 cubic metre storage tank, where maintenance was being carried out.

It's a horrific industrial accident and my thoughts are with everyone involved with the plant.

good day sunshine

two-thirds

The Beatles once sang, "I get by with a little help from my friends," and then moved swiftly into a phase of pschyedelics and yellow submarines. Personally, I'm going to stick with staying up late and playing with my friends and skip the drug induced spurts of creativity (I've got more than enough mental anguish to keep me churning out new work to need any further aid).

this pretty much sums up the evening

So Monday night mom and I headed down to San Francisco to fetch Sir Knight for his rapid, 24-hour, talk-and-lovingly-abuse-her-off-her-ledge, whirlwind visit. His flight was delayed so we didn't get back to The Burrow (mom's house, yes, a reference to the Weasley household in Harry Potter, the place where no matter how crappy life is, it's always a little bit better once you're there) until after eleven. A normal person would have gone straight to bed to prepare for a busy following day but we've never been accused of normalcy and we're not about to start now. In lieu of that then, we decided to make margaritas and act like idiots. Idiots how? I took the opportunity to somehow drop the bottom out of the blender thus causing the Great Spill of 2011 (photos of Blake and me slurping beverage off the countertop with straws to follow) and the other two decided to channel other worldly spirits with the damn Ouija board (I took no part in it other than to sit at the table with them because I choose not to mess with things beyond our realm, but that's just me).

mumm napa... bubbles & sun

The next day was a first for me. Growing up in Napa (and in the wine industry for that matter, with Dad's business taking us out to wineries on a daily basis from the time I was seven weeks old, curled up in a little snuggly pack... I was a great mascot) it surprises even me that I have never been wine tasting in the Napa Valley. Sure, I now know the Willamette Valley left, right and sideways but my own hometown? Ha. I was out of here before I turned eighteen and kept far away unless a holiday demanded my return for the better part of the last seven years (I think it's fair that most people stray from their hometowns, at least for a while... I had a certain bitterness about Napa though, another story for another time). But you know what I discovered? This place is lovely! Holy moses, I got to grow up here and I completely took it for granted! Sure, I always knew how beautiful it was and would often request a quick spin up valley on the not-so way home from school, but this was a chance to see it from a new vantage point.

prager port winery - one of my favorites, even as a kid (they had winery cats)

Everywhere we went Dad saw someone he knew (no joke, whether he was sticking his head into a cellar, walking through a crowded restaurant or just entering a tasting room, he knew everyone). The day was just about perfect - even the sun came out to play! After months and months of rain, I had almost forgotten what it looked like (and boy, I must have thrown it for a loop with the blinding quality my alabaster skin has developed this winter!) So we made our rounds - Mumm, Conn Creek (yum!), lunch at Rutherford Grill, Prager and Stag's Leap. Conn Creek and Stag's Leap are both part of Ste. Michelle Wine Estates, which owns Erath as well, so it was fun to get to a couple of our "sister wineries". I was really impressed with Conn Creek in particular. The folks in the tasting room reminded me of the people I work with and were so welcoming! And the wine was amazing (I bought a bottle of 2006 Anthology which is a blend of everything Bordeaux and it made me melt). And then a stop at Prager, of course. The family owned winery has been one of my favorites for as long as I can remember (my dad is friends with the family and as a kid I spent a lot of time chasing the old cellar cats, Use and Less, around the barrels) (also, one infamous luau party where they buried and roasted a pig... big fun when you're six). One of founder Jim Prager's sons was in the tasting room along with one of his son-in-laws as well. It's so wonderful to know that as corporate as some of the places in Napa have become, there are still the strongholds. The character of the place is fully in tact and shows no signs of waning... When you're there, you're family. And the port? Leapin' lizards. The ruby, the tawny, the white port! Hell. Nothing tops it. I've actually had the privilege of meeting and tasting with the winemaker of a port winery in Portugal and it didn't touch the quality Prager has harnessed. It was definitely a highlight of the day.

the boy riding the "circus bike"

Nothing helps to take your mind of the more craptabulismic (word origin: Sean) times of life than to be surrounded by family and one of your best friends. Of course my mind wandered many times throughout the day to places beyond my control, but having Blake lurking around corners to pop me on the back of the head or make an inappropriate comment about, er, everything really... Helps.

The Beatles were right. I do get by.

(more photos to follow, these were the immediately available iPhone shots)

my other two thirds

You've heard me prattle on at length about how much I adore Portland and the people in it and I thank you for that. In reality, I've held back. So count your blessings folks. You have no idea how loquacious I can be (and if you do, I am genuinely sorry). 

But the time has come, the Walrus said, to remind you all of something Portland does not have: my other two-thirds.

Brigette and I met the second semester of freshman year at Pepperdine. We were the two non-theater majors working in the Scene Shop (the scenic construction and installation heart and soul of Smothers Theater) and got plugged into working on the haphazard jalopy for The Grapes of Wrath. I still have visions of our leading men and women falling through/off that thing due to our shoddy pneumatic stapling job. Anyway, somewhere between air-powered adhesion and John Steinbeck, we realized we were both set to spend the following semester in London. 

Long story short, that was the beginning of what would become the saga of us being "Heterosexual Life Partners". Almost six years later, we've been through just about everything together. We've traveled Europe, Mexico & America; we've had the ups & downs of relationships; we've eaten too much cheese, drank too much wine, bought too many clothes, watched too many Christmas movies (no such thing), played in too many IKEAs, made too many people nervous about whether we're going to fall up a flight of stairs (we're both guilty of that) and had too many smoke detectors sound off at too many attempted cooking feats. She is my sister, my best friend and the only person in the world who understands what it means to watch 101 Dalmatians on the 101. 

As for Blake, he is my boyo. Our Wonderboy. We met in Intro To Creative Writing in 2006 just as Brig and I returned from our first adventure in London. He was the six-foot-something freshman from Texas who looked like he'd just fallen out of the Abercrombie & Fitch Quarterly and while it would be another  few months before we moved on from Instant Messaging about Disney and literature to hanging out in his dorm room watching Star Wars and James Bond movies, that was the humble beginning. And once he and my mom met and she all but formally adopted him, that was it - best friend, big little brother, co-runner-around-Boboli-Gardens-in-the-rain, only-person-who-would-make-me-a-birthday-Frankencake-and-cut-it-with-a-butcher-knife, "...but by God, there'll be dancing!", one of the loves of my life. 

To shorten this long story, it was somewhere between Brig's and my junior year and now that the three of us clicked and became unconditional friends. There are nooo boundaries (for better or for worse, ha) and while I'm positive that we've raised more than a few eyebrows from the people trying to figure us out, we rarely care. It's more fun that way. 

These two people are the other two-thirds of my heart and for all the things I don't miss about Los Angeles, I miss them infinite times more. When we were in college, it was easy to run through our apartment complex and meet in the middle. To crash in Blake's bed when we didn't feel like walking the extra few hundred feet to our apartment. To pound on Blake's door in the middle of the night, Brig and me with hoodies and wellies on, ready to drag him out to puddle-jump in the rain.  To fly down PCH, blasting "Dark Blue"and singing at the top of our lungs. 

It's harder now. We're over a thousand mile apart. The occasional video chat isn't enough! I miss them like I'm missing a piece of my heart. But remember what I said earlier? This is an unconditional friendship. The pictures of them all around my apartment make me smile on even the crummiest day. 

This love isn't going anywhere. 

 (photos of our adventures over the years)

I'd rather be watching the Darts down at the Lakeside...

...and on Sunday, I was!

I'm a darts lover and have been since I was a child. For me, New Year since I was a child has always meant watching the World's Strongest Man competition, the New Year's Day Concert from Vienna on Radio 3 and BBC2 and the BDO World Darts Championshiop live on the BBC, from the Lakeside complex at Frimley Green. All of which I would do with my father.

A Childhood Love of Darts

My darting recollections begin from around 1992 when Phil Taylor beat Mike Gregory for his 2nd world title in a sudden death, final set/final leg shoot-out. I remember clearly Bobby George reaching the 1994 final where he was whitewashed by Canadaian John Part and then the likes of Welshman Richie Burnett, Steve 'The Bronze Adonis' Beaton, and the Dutch postie master himself, Raymond Van Barneveld. During these teenage years, I added to my interest by throwing many an arrow myself into the dartboard that we had placed in our kitchen. An odd place for a dartboard maybe but it kept me entertained for many an hour.

Having not had Sky Sports at home, despite the increasing significance of the PDC Championship after the great darts split of 1993/1994, it was always the BDO that kept me gripped to my seat. So it wasn't the wonder of watching Phil 'The Power' Taylor that kept me glued to my darting TV screen going into the new millennium, but more the sights of characters such as Ted 'The Count' Hankey, John 'Boy' Walton, Andy 'The Viking' Fordham and Martin 'Wolfie' Adams.

PDC Vs BDO
Nowadays, particularly since 'Barney' jumped ship some 5 years ago to join the PDC, even I, a die-hard BDO man has to admit that the future lies with the PDC. For better or for worse, Sky cash has generated big viewing figures and as a result, big money pots for their tournaments.

But the friction between the two camps remains and for as long as the BBC is willing to pay the BDO television rights for its main World Championship, I expect the divide to remain.

The Lakeside - The 'Home of Darts'
But until then, I keep a keen eye out on both. I will probably cave in later this year to buying in Sky so that I can watch more live sports and when that happens, my interest in the PDC will increase. But that will not deter me from keeping a loving eye on the old BDO.

Because it's with the BDO, it's heritage and it's long-standing BBC following that I grew up and for which I hold much admiration and respect.

2010

So, last year, having spoken about it for some time, I was delighted when a group of 6 of us bought tickets to go the Lakeside and watch the BDO World Darts Championship in the flesh. It was the opening Sunday of the championship last year and I was in absolute awe as I walked through the Lakeside doors for the first time. Seeing the stage, the candleabra's and the balcony that I had seen on TV so often through my childhood made me feel like a child again! My boy-ish enthusiasm knew no bound and although our table had restricted viewing, we still had an absolute ball! The fact that I could cheer on (with my magician's hat, Welsh rugby shirt and Welsh flag) a Welshman on our day was a bonus! Martin Phillips won his match and went on to a career best semi-final last year.

2011
Without hesitation, the group of us who attended last year, decided that we'd do the same this year. Though 2 of the 6 were unable to make it this time round, we easily filled their places - including with my old school friend and many time oche sparring partner Luke Rowland.

Being better prepared this time round, we bought our tickets earlier and therefore got a much better table. When we arrived, again on the opening Sunday the day before last, it was again like reuniting with an old friend. Our table was right in the centre of the room with a much better view of the proceedings. Good darts!

Whilst it's hard to argue against the fact that the real darts quality now lies in the PDC, the atmosphere in the Lakeside is still second-to-none. The tension from the game-play also reaches incredible heights. Last year, despite watching 6 first-round men's singles matches and 2 women's quarter-final matches, not one went to a final set. Well this year, we had 3 out of 8 going all the way! The highlight had to be the opening match between 4th seed Steve West and 2010 runner-up Dave 'Chizzy' Chisnall which went to the decider and saw 'Chizzy' come back from 0-2 down in that decider to win the final set and match 4-2! Talk about tension! The roof was raised many a time in that tense encounter and later on throughout the day as well!

It was a great day out and we even finished it with some legs of darts of our own in the next door bar within the Lakeside complex. I won 2 and lost 2 301 legs so I was pleased to have hit a couple of doubles myself at the 'Home of Darts'!

Will I be back for a hat-trick of appearances next year? Undoubtedly! In fairness, I'm also musing over the thought of checking the PDC out at the 'Ally Pally'.

But really, when it comes to darts, there's only one place I'd rather be...down at the Lakeside!

Will Kate & William pay for my wedding?

So then. Prince William and Kate Middleton will marry on April 29th 2011 at Westminster Abbey. We'll even get a Bank Holiday in to boot. This will mean 2 consecutive 4 day weekends encompassing Easter the weekend before - not that us political types will have any time off the week before the Welsh Assembly elections!

I am genuinely pleased for Kate and William. They looked happy, relaxed and in love with each other when they made the announcement of their engagement a week or so ago and after being with each other after 8 or so years, decided it was eventually time to tie the knot. I'm confident that they will prove to be a durable and happy couple - certainly more in the vein of his grandparents than his parents. The fact that they're marrying in the same place as the his grandparents as opposed to St Pauls Cathedral where his parents married can only be a good omen.

Yet, over the past week or so, there's been some real vitriol on-line regarding the marriage. Many of the comments come from Liberal Democrat friends of mine. It's not necessarily surprising. Whilst the Tories have always been avidly Monarchist and Labour have been generally more Republican in nature, the Lib Dems fall between both stools. A great proportion of my liberal friends are Republicans - they see no need for this archaic, unmeritocratic, institution. But having said that, I have many liberal friends who are proudly pro-Monarchy and are indeed, pleased with the news that has come from Buckingham Palace recently.

 A Reluctant Monarchist
Me? Well, I used to be a staunch Monarchist as a child but my passion for this very British of institutions has faded over the years as my ingrained liberalism has taken a greater hold.

I'd like to think that I have good reason of being a fan in the first instance. For it was the Royal Family and it's history that got me interested in history in the very first place. I can trace a love for history that saw me through to study it and undergraduate and postgraduate level in University down to one simple, but unintentional incident as a child.

My parents and I were on one of our many touring caravan holidays. I must have been 7 or 8 at the time and this was a particularly wet holiday. I decided to buy a pack of playing cards to help us through the wet times, having played a lot of cards with my family as a child. I purchased a pack in the innocence of thinking that they were playing cards but they turned out to me information cards about every King or Queen since 1066. Before I knew it, I was fascinated. The next Christmas, my auntie Elinor bought me a book about the Royal Family. I still have that book. I've since been to Windsor Castle as a child, I attended a Buckingham Palace Garden Party with my mother back in the summer and our family visited Windsor only a few weeks ago to see our family horse Dyfed Celt take his place in the Household Cavalry.

But as a liberal who belives in a meritocracy, there are questions that must be asked regarding a situation where the Head of State is decided not upon merit, but upon an accident of birth. But then, at this moment of financial difficulty, for me, the question of the future of the Royal Family shouldn't be a priority - there's much more important issues that need to be dealt with in the meantime.

The Firm

Personally, I have a lot of time for the Queen. To devote an entire life to public service in the way that she has, without complaining about it in public, is quite an incredible personal achievement. I'm also (controversially maybe) a fan of Prince Charles. I met him in Cardigan Castle a few years. We spoke briefly and he seemed to me to be an affable, pleasant enough chap. William seems like a nice guy too. Just like his great aunt, I'm pleased that Harry wasn't born the eldest - like Margaret, he's wild!

Who should pay for the Wedding?
But, stripping away the individuality of the situation and taking it in the whole, can we afford the Royal Family? Should the tax-payer have to pay for Royal Weddings when we're tightening our belts enough as it is?

It's a tough one. The British monarchy last year in total, cost the taxpayer £38.2m (not including security costs). This equates to 62p per person. A bargain you might say and many would argue. But Prince William himself has security that costs £1.4m for his cottage in north Wales where he is working with the RAF. There will also be a temporary grant of £1m to help pay for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee celebrations in 2012.

The issue is that we're all tightening our belts and it's difficult to imagine, even for a potential future King, that even more money will be given from us the tax-payer, to pay for this wedding. It is estimated that the Queen has a personal reserve of some £290m. She may well have to 'dip' into this wealth herself. All things considered, I think she should. She has already shown restraint in agreeing to cut the total spending of the Royal Household by 14% in 2012/13 which is in-line with the public sector cuts that her subjects are having to face. This to me seems fair and reasonable. If she were to pay for the costs of her grandson's wedding, it would be an even greater sign of her acknowledging that now is not the time to make more demands on the public purse.

Because at the end of the day, I wouldn't expect William and Kate to have to pay for my wedding so in these austere times, they shouldn't expect us to have to pay for theirs. If they want to marry in Westminster Abeey with all of the pomp and occasion that goes with it, that is their choice and I have no problem with that - but let the Royal Family pay for it.

If they were to do so, then on the big day itself, we could all enjoy the extra day off and celebrate the day with them, knowing that they've done their bit by not asking us to foot the bill. It'll also give us an additional reason to celebrate the Queen's Diamond Jubilee in 2012.

The Royal Family are popular in Britain. To remain so, their PR machine should be telling them the best thing to do - pay for the wedding themselves and don't burden an already thrifty and concerned society any further on this occasion. By doing so, it will only further bolster that popular support.

Good luck to William and Kate. I hope you'll be happy together. My gut instinct is that you will.

The Cole Family's Royal Connection

Last Tuesday, I was delighted to get on a bus to Windsor with friends and family for what was a pretty special day out.

In a twist on the Dick Whittington story, we all went to see the formal debut of our family horse Dyfed Celt as a member of the Queen's Household Cavalry.

As a family, Shire Horses are in the blood. My grandfather John Rees Lewis (or J.R as he was known) worked the land at Carnhuan, Eglwyswrw, with the Shires and latterly showed them with help up until his death in 1991. Our family, not wanting to sell his wonderful legacy, decided to diversify and open the farm to the public as the Dyfed Shire Horse Farm in 1994. We've sold horses to Germany and to the USA over the years, but never, until now, to the Royal Family.

It seems like an age ago when the BBC Wales cameras reported on Celt's new adventure in London, away from his Eglwyswrw home in west Wales.

Now, exactly 2 years later, we've gone full circle.

Eglwyswrw to London
As the report above shows, we as a family saw an advertisement for a Drum Horse in the Heavy Horse World and got in touch with the powers that be.

For only a young 3 year old, we knew his attitude and tempremant would be what was required. We weren't disappointed when the offer was made to purchase him for the Household Cavalry.

But that didn't mean that he'd make the grade and for the past 2 years he's been living in the underground Kensington Barracks in London and grazing in Hyde Park whilst undertaking the training required for him to be officially welcomed into the Cavalry.

The regiment have been excellent in communicating with us Celt's progress and last summer, the family and friends had a bus trip to Kensington to see Celt in his new surroundings. I was unfortunately unable to make it - being on holiday in France at the time.

Windsor & the Emir of Qatar
So I was really pleased to have a second opportunity this week to have a trip to the bigger smoke to see Celt at work. Now, 2 years on, it wasn't just a matter of seeing him in training, but actually seeing him in action.

The Emir of Qatar and his entourage were due to arrive on an official visit and were to be met by the Queen, Prince Phillip and the family.

We arrived in good time and found a place en-route just a 100 or so yards from the main welcoming platform. In the light drizzle, some 50 of us waited attentively for the star of the day to arrive - no, not the Emir or the Queen, but Celt!

See here a slideshow of photos taken by BBC Berkshire of the day and in particular, photo 6 of our gang, manning the barricades!  http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-berkshire-11630223 As the caption says, the bus left west Wales at around 4am - but I think the locals must've been bemused as to why we were there in the first place!

The reason arrived at the head of the procession just after 11am. Celt, 2nd in line of some 200 horses of the Household Cavalry, passed us in his full regalia, carrying those solid silver drums and the musician on top.

He behaved very well throughout the short welcoming ceremony and we could see him in the distance, at the heart of the action, as the respective anthems were played.

The Household Cavalry's Mounted Regiment Training Wing
We were then fortunate enough to be given a tour around Celt's home for the day at the regiments' near-by training wing. There, we saw him back in the stable after the exertions of his day out on formal parade.

We were told that this was the Queen's first opportunity to see him in action and in a matter of days it is expected, we shall hopefully find out what his new formal, Roman name will be. His stable name however will remain Dyfed Celt which will remind all of his roots. He will also be given the rank of a Major - not bad going for a West Walian!

He will next be on parade at the Lord Mayor's Parade in London in a few weeks time and next year there's a very good chance that he'll be on Horseguards Parade in the Trooping of the Colour.

It really was great to see one of our family's horses taking his place, centre stage, in the Queen's Household Cavalry. It was great in addition, that this was witnessed by a wide community of family and friends who had willingly paid the £20 coach fare and got up ridiculously early, to see a real 'one-off' occasion in the flesh.

More Media Coverage
Just as before when he left for the bright lights of the city, the Welsh media have again been enthusiastic in their interest of Celt's progress.

S4C's 'Ffermio' programme recorded the proceedings and will be transmitting the footage this coming Monday at 8.25pm. Meanwhile, my oldest brother Huw, who did a great job in organising the trip, went live on BBC Radio Wales' Jamie Owen and Louise Elliott programme on Wednesday morning. This clip on iplayer is only retrieveable for the next few days. Wind forward to 2:30:30 for an 8 minute interview with Huw.

It's a lovely story and one, that as a family and a community, we are rightly very proud.

Losing a Father

When I heard the news yesterday that David Cameron's father had died, I felt great sympathy for him. I lost my father in 2003 and I can sympathise with him at this moment in time.

Whatever your political colours, taking a step back and looking at what he's had to contend with in his personal life over the last 18 months, it's been a rollercoaster ride that few can surely, properly comprehend. Since the start of 2009 he has had to contend with the death of his eldest son, becoming Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, becoming a father for the 4th time and now, the sudden death of his father. The fact that his father Ian never met his youngest grandchild Florence is an added sad piece to this particular personal story.

I don't know how David Cameron dealt with the death of a son, a birth of a daughter and becoming Prime Minister. But I can empathise with how he must be feeling about the death of a father.

Lance Cole

My father passed away suddenly in the summer of 2003 when I was 20 years old. 7 years passes quickly but the sadness and melancholy of thinking about that sad time never will. I had just finished University and was 5 weeks from graduation when he died. No other time of my life comes close to that week of utter grief that I felt between his death and his funeral. The loss of a parent marks a seminal moment in your life. Suddenly, I was father-less and I would be so for the rest of my life. Dad was only 66 when he died - no age really and I knew that he'd never be there for those central moments in my life that may lay before me. Graduation, marriage, grandchildren. He wouldn't see these events and they wouldn't see him. It's an overwhelming, heart-breaking sense of loss that overcomes you when these feelings materialise.

I can remember the days leading up to the funeral only through the tears and the support that the whole family gave each other. Dad was a gentle man, a loving family man and was the father figure to 5 children - I was the youngest. Thankfully, we're a tight-knit family and we were all there to support each other at this time of grief and loss.

I can recall also taking solace in reading. During those bleak few days, I read through Roy Jenkins' mamouth autobiography of Winston Churchill. It was something to do and an escapism from the moment.

The funeral was on a bright, sunny Saturday. It felt apt. In years gone by, Dad would've no doubt have spent such a day bringing in the silage. It was the best of a bad day, if that makes sense. It was nice to see old friends and members of the family I hadn't seen in years. It gave me extra support on the day.

I decided during those days in June that I would not return to University to do the Masters which I'd signed up too. I would stay at home and help the family in whichever way I could. As the summer progressed, my family all persuaded me to revert to my original plans. I'm glad they did. Life had to move on, no matter how dificult and different it would now be without Dad. I therefore went back to Aberystwyth University that Autumn to study my MA and from there I was offered the opporunity to work with the Liberal Democrats in Ceredigion and the rest flowed from there.

Each individual circumstance is different. David Cameron is much older than I am and has much more 'life experience' that his father was a part of than I had with mine. But the sense of loss will be just as acute for him.

What he will have, as have I, are the wonderful memories of being with a loving father. A father who shaped what we have become and who will always be a part of what we are to become.

The song that I associate with my father more than any other when I hear it, is Elton John's 'Circle of Life'. It's a melancholic tune but one which reminds me that this, unfortunately is the way of things. Life is tough and we have no alternative but to make the most of the hand that we're dealt.

But we have the good memories. They're what matter most. Hopefully, David and his family will hold on to them as dearly as I have these past 7 years and will do for the remainder of my life.

Coast, Castles and Community - Why Wales' West is Best

At the new 'Parc Y Scarlets' rugby stadium in Llanelli, the Ray Gravell inspired wording 'West is Best' is indelibly marked in the seating.

http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/45341000/jpg/_45341522_parcyscars_empty_huw466x300.jpg

It's a sense of self which I have shared and felt throughout my life.

Of course I would. I'm a Pembrokeshire boy, educated in Carmarthenshire who for the past 10 years has lived in Cardiganshire. Like most people, I am fiercely proud of my roots and mine are very much in the soil of west Wales.

When I think about it, the 3 constants that make this part of the world very much my own can be encapsulated in the 3 C's - Coast, Castles and Community.

Coast

To my absolute horror, at the age of 28, I still can't swim. Yet, living near the coast for me is a staple part of my whole being. My upbringing in southern Pembrokeshire near Loveston (south west of Narberth) meant that I was never far from the sea. I can remember vividly, those idyllic moments from my very happy childhood in Tenby (up on Castle Hill) or Saundersfoot (buying Premier League stickers at the shop opposite the Wimpy's) or further along the coast at Manorbier and continuing along the path of the Pembrokehsire Coast Footpath, to St Govan's Head and the Bosherston Lily Ponds. St Govan's in particular is a place I re-visit as often as possible and always with those who have not been initiated before in the joy of counting the steps down to the Chapel, built deep into the rocks, and then on counting them on the way back up, realising that as the fable goes, the two numbers don't tally!

Head further north and Angle marks the sadder memories for me of witnessing the stranded Sea Empress spewing 72,000 gallons of oil into the estuary in February 1996.

http://www.itopf.com/information-services/data-and-statistics/case-histories/images/casehist_seaemp.jpg

Further east is the village of Rhoscrowther which sits in the great shadow of the Texaco Oil Refinery where my Uncle Desmond worked for many years. The village was cleared in the1960's for the coming of the refinery and little now remains apart from the picturesque church. It is an odd sensation that goes down the spine when you go through this old medieval village with it's church and see this great 20th century construction overwhelming the visual senses.

Heading in-land though, deeper into the Cleddau estuary and my childhood memories fondly recall my times at Cresswell Quay, Lawrenny and Lanshipping. I particularly recall in my mind seeing my father, a keen photographer, taking photos and film of the sunset in Landshipping by the bridge down from where my (great) Aunty Dolly used to live. I remember often standing with my father on the site of Lawrenny Castle, which was a large towered and turreted mansion, overlooking the estuary. I'd always be so frustrated that the 'castle' had been demolished in 1950 so I'd never be able to see it. But my father, born in 1936, could at least tell me where exactly it was located and what it looked like.

History tells us that Henry Tudor landed off the coast at Dale in August 1485 on his way to defeat Richard III at Bosworth. With one of my maternal great-aunt's, Aunty Claudia and her family living down in Marloes, it was another wonderful part of the coast that I well knew.

My life as a student in Aberystwyth continued my love affair with the sea. Where is there better to live by the sea than Aberystwyth? The views from the top of Constitution Hill are quite simply exceptional. Now these past 5 years, I'm back in Cardigan and on the estuary here, the sea salt is still there, as it should be for me.

Castles

'A load of stones' I think I recall my father calling them. I admit to being one of those many boring historians who just love castles and my parents were saints for putting up with my calls to go to any castle that we could go too whilst on our holidays.

Here in the glorious west though, I really was spoilt. Living less than 5 miles north of Carew, it would be one of my favourite castles. Manorbier, a romantic castle if ever there was one always wowed me. Pembroke Castle? Well, what can you say? Majestic quite frankly is the word that comes to mind. Then there's the smaller castles which I loved for their own stories. Llawhaden, where I was a member of the Young Farmers for 5 years before going to University, Wiston, Roch, the imposing Haverfordwest and the one that scared me witless every day of my school life, Narberth Castle. Indeed, this latter one only finally opened to the public after being made safe, back in 2005. When I took my first steps in this castle which, because of its ruins and inaccessibility had always had a haunting effect on me, I found myself overcome with an incredibly crippling sense of absolute fear! I've never felt anything like it! My childhood fears of this spooky, scary castle came rushing back as I finally confronted those very fears. When was this? It was last year - 2009! I was 27 years old! It's incredible how those childhood sensations stay with us. When I finally overcame my fears, I walked in and enjoyed putting this particular ghost of mine to rest!

http://www.castlewales.com/narberth.jpg

Carmarthen Castle, like Haverfordwest has fascinated me though little of substance of either remain. Cilgerran Castle is just beautiful, perched as it above the gorge looking down onto the Teifi River. Mind you, my relative hopelessness with heights means that I have never been able to look to my left when crossing the drawbridge into the castle - I couldn't stomach that sheer drop!

http://www.castlewales.com/cliger.html

Aberystwyth Castle during my University days would provide a place for sanctuary if I needed some time to collect my thoughts and then, here in Cardigan, our very own superstar! Birthplace of the Welsh Eisteddfod in 1176, I can remember as a child crossing the old bridge and always wondering what lay behind those great walls. Never in a million years could I have thought that I would one day become Mayor of Cardigan and donate my Mayoral Fund donations to the Cardigan Castle Fund. If current plans being pursued by local Building Preservation Trust Cadwgan are successful, then the castle could well be totally renovated and open to the public by 2014. It will be a great day for Wales when this happens.

As a historian, west Wales is just brimming with gems and the memories they've given me will always stay with me.

Community

Finally, but most importantly, it's what binds us all, particular in rural Wales together that matters most - community.

I take great pride in being able to say that I have a foot in both Pembrokeshire 'camps'. My father's family are from south Pembrokeshire - below the fabled Landsker Line in Anglicised 'Little England Beyond Wales'. My mother comes from the Welsh north, in Eglwyswrw near Crymych, on the the main coastal road between Fishguard and Cardigan. Be it in the community of Martletwy where I went to Sunday School and where my paternal grandparents are buried, or in shadows of the Preseli Hills around Crosswell and Pontyglasier where my maternal grandparents are buried, there has always been this strong sense of togetherness. Communities of people who know each other and help each other.

The same could be said of my years in school. I fondly recall my years as a pupil in Whitland Primary and Secondary Schools between 1987-2000. There was a sense of belonging and depsite our age-old annoyances of having to go to school, a pride in our own school against all of the others in the area. Or as the Beach Boys song went, 'Be True to Your School'. The community of the Young Farmers movement is also a firm one and during my 5 years in Llawhaden, I had the good fortune of being able to meet those of my age who went to schools in Haverfordwest. I can see it now too in Llanboidy where my girlfriend Alyson lives. The annual carnival occurred recently over the Bank Holiday weekend and I gather everyone had a good time!

The sense of community in Aberystwyth of course is a rather special one - that of the 'Town and Gown'. Back here in Cardigan, it's less of the cosmpolitan kind that annually regenerates itself in Aberystwyth, and more of the traditional kind that I grew up with in Pembrokeshire. I have great neighbours who I can rely on to look after my house on my many excursions away and it's impossible to walk down the street without bumping into someone I know and having a chat.

That's the way it should be. Shouldn't it? Well it's certainly the way I like it and want it to remain.

Don't get me wrong, I love Cardiff and London and enjoy my trips there. But there's nothing quite like the sense of travelling home on the train heading west from Swansea. When I come into Carmarthen I know that I'm homeward bound.

As many who know me will be bored of hearing me say, I'm a farmers boy and proud of it. To add to that, I'm a farmers boy from west Wales.

It's the Coast, the Castles and the Community for me.

Ray Gravell wasn't wrong. West is most definitely Best.

le première

Hello!

Well, I think it safe to say right off that I miss all of you dearly. That being said I also want to thank all of you for your unbelievable support and encouragement - not just during these past few months here in Portland but from day one. Though I will say that the love you've all sent up here to the beautiful Pacific Northwest has been so appreciated I can't even tell you.

Anyway, I know I've been bad about correspondence and updates (because my life is oh-so-thrilling!) so I thought it best to give this a whirl! So from here on out I'll do my best to post photos and whatnot here where everyone can hop online and see what your crazy little daughter/granddaughter/niece is getting up to day in and day out as she flies by the seat of her pants hoping that her "ready, fire, aim" philosophy keeps her in good graces!

Love to all, miss you all - Cheers!