Aberystwyth

 

Brother LSP with local farming folk

There you are on the Welsh/English border, on the very Marches themselves. So what do you do? Head for Wales like a bat out of hell in your brother's BMW station wagon while D peels off in the faithful Tigra for Bury St. Edmunds.

Off we roared down the country lanes of bucolic Wales, and it is bucolic, and two laned, hard to go fast down those little roads though we did our best. First stop? A bizarrely intact Jacobean country house. The owners bought it in the '70s, restored the place to original spec, no electricity, and live in a farmhouse on the grounds. Remarkable.

Then on to Llanddewi Brefi and its New Inn. We weren't greeted by several countrymen speaking Welsh at the bar but perhaps they were wary. Back in the '70's this pub and its rain washed village were home to an LSD factory which produced an estimated 60% of the world's psychedelic favorite. That's right, 60%.

Lo and behold, the Law zeroed in and closed down the millionaire hippies in the UK's biggest ever drug bust, Operation Julie. No more White Lightning at the New Inn today, though there is a musical. Several pints later we were on our way to Aber.

zoom in, how is this even here?!?

What a good little town. Yes, Pier Pressure's been hideously renovated, so don't go there, but there's plenty of places to relax in the chill Welsh wind as you look across the sea to Ireland and its raiders. When that becomes exhausting, fall back on family for delicious chicken enchiladas or go for a negroni, or both.

Speaking of which, we were strolling through the darkened streets of this seaside resort when a blood covered tackhead got in front of my brother and started shouting. We moved through, like a Panzergruppe, then the tackhead circled 'round and thumped my brother on the back.

Brother LSP turned around, he's large, and advanced aggressively to contact. I stood on the wings in reserve, "Hey, you gonna go him?" But it wasn't necessary, tackhead sensibly ran off into the night only to be picked up by the cops in one of their downtown vans.

I texted a friend, "We were in a fight, in Aber." And he replied, "Welcome to Wales." But it was just a minor skirmish and all was well. As is the town itself, lots of shops, restaurants and pubs, a beautiful seafront and the general atmos of a pre-internet town, old skool. 

Go there if you can, just don't go to Pier Pressure, it's rubbish and ruined.

Your Pal,

LSP

Buckle Up

Hope you're all prepped up and ready to "bug-in" or go "innawoods" because it's staring to get nasty, in a small way. 

People are getting robbed of their TP in parking lots in Washington state and the UK, so WA shoppers are going armed to the supermarket. UK people aren't because they're not allowed to defend themselves. Find the cost of freedom, eh?

Here in Hill County Texas, a big fight broke out at Walmart as pastoral people set to scrapping over frozen pizzas, bottled water and Ramen noodles. I missed the fight, annoyingly, but you could see the tension building before Noon.

Over in Aberystwyth the shelves were bare of pasta, "Andrex," and assorted everything else. Calgary, as of today, had run out of milk.

Message to market? Bring the supply chain home. Have a month's supply of food so you don't have to get into a fight at Walmart. Don't hoard loo-roll, the Bat Bug isn't dysentery. Don't hoard water, the Kung Flu isn't Cholera. And on. 

Above all, STAND STEADY. You're no use to man nor beast if you don't. Go armed to Walmart if you aren't already. And on a spiritual note, pray for our country tomorrow, it's a National Day of Prayer. Do not ever downplay the efficacy of that.

God bless,

LSP

Virus Panic Hits Aberystwyth

Sources on the ground in Aberystwyth, a thriving fishing community on the far west coast of Wales, have reported runs on local supermarkets as panic-stricken Welshpersons buy up rice, loo roll and pasta.

"It's weird," stated a local resident on conditions of anonymity, "It's like they think all this Andrex and Vermicelli is going to save them from an escaped ChiCom bioweapon. Hope they boil the rice before they eat it."

So far, Aberytwyth hasn't been quarantined, unlike Milan, which is a different city entirely. Here's a rate of infection graph from Northern Italy. Nothing to worry about, obviously.

Added new data point on the exponential italian ICU trend (doubling every 2.6 days)

It's one of the most alarming charts I've ever seen because

1. Trend has been very stable for weeks even with Italy mitigation measures

2. If it continues health sys. collapses within 2 weeks pic.twitter.com/rohZouVzrC

— epsilon (@epsilon3141) March 6, 2020

Over 1000 people in the Milan area were reported infected by Covid-19 overnight bringing the total to 5,883 as of this morning. Over 230 people have died, do the math.

Good thing China gave us accurate figures, right?

Cheers,

LSP

Age Of Aquarius

So, how do you celebrate the Feast of St. Nicholas of Myra? Simple, load up the rig with a couple of light rods and head out to the mighty Brazos.

Boom. Pretty much every cast a fish, it was like... like the Age of Aquarius. No kidding, I lost count.

Mostly perch but also drum, a couple of cats and curiously, baby striper. Ferocious little fish, all of them, but especially the striper. Big fun to catch when they're big and not bad when they're small. And here's the thing.

My friend Pedro was fishing silver spinners, slabs, the live perch which I gave him, and caught exactly nothing. He was going after big fish and failed. 

By contrast, I was pulling the aquarian adversary out of the water every few minutes or so on a worm, small hook, two split-shot rig on a light rod. Big success, "You're rippin' 'em up, man!"

Moral? No libs, fish smart,

LSP

Thank God For Rain

It rained yesterday evening. Seriously, no kidding, it rained. Clouds rolled in, lightning flashed, thunder rolled and water fell from the sky.

It was like a gift from heaven. No, it was a gift from heaven and I stood on the porch enjoying the sheer, cooling, clarifying beauty of the thing.

Perhaps you think that's some kind of exaggeration. So what, you mutter darkly from the bay window of a water soaked pub on Aberystwyth Pier, it rained, like we're supposed to care.

Not so fast. When the ground's cracking and every day's a triple digit furnace, rain means a lot. No fooling and you have to ask how people managed back before air conditioning. The answer is, they mostly didn't. Texan towns only got big after the advent of HVAC.

Still, those that pioneered the state were tough, no doubt about it. Right out there on the frontier in the relentless heat and the sleeping porch. Respect.

With all of this in mind I stood firm, like Ahab, as the rain crashed down and thanked the Almighty for His mercy.

Trust the plan,

LSP

It's An Oven, Get On The Fish

It was a typically chilly Texan 104* and I looked at Blue Climate Change panting in his fur coat, "Perhaps it's time to go fishing, Gar like the heat." 

The dog said nothing, he regards my Gar obsession as foolish. All he's after is a better argument for Sola Scriptura (sorry, dog, fail) and against what he calls "the Abomination of Desolation!" 

Inner Light

No, I tell him. Having a statue of the Blessed Ever Virgin Mary in your church is not a sin against the Holy Spirit or any other kind of idolatry. He refuses to listen and wanders off in search of fried pies.

So much for the dog. I went in search of space and found Gar, lots of them, but only closed the deal on two, along with one miscreant Black Drum and a couple of opportunistic Bluegill. 

Beat The Drum

The Gar, furiously, bit through the line as they were being hauled up to the pier for a photo op. 

Maybe a steel leader is in order.

Beat the Jihad and Build the Wall,

LSP