Holiday in Bridgend

Though British to my fingertips I love the buzz around Australians. Their energy, sense of humour and accents are all very exciting. Spending time in Brisbane and Sydney each year is a joy to me, Mother and Mr Pew (my chaperone).
Sadly we are being hit by the credit crunch and oz is off the agenda. Happily we have a solution. We will load up the Ford Anglia with vegemite and Prisoner Cell Block H DVDs and drive down to Bridgend. There we can hear dozens of Aussies accents every day. I do hope they have named a part of the town 'Little Sydney'. If we can visit a Celtic Crusaders training session we will play "spot the Welshman'.
At Chez Spoonfinger we love and admire Crusaders coach Mr Dixon. In our downstairs lavatory we have framed photographs of the four greatest bearded men in history. These are:

Sigmund Freud
Charles Darwin
Brian Blessed
John Dixon

Mr Dixon is not out of place with these great men.Though no match for the greatest bearded women.

While in Wales we hope to pay homage to that great RL summariser Jonathan Davies. Apparently in his youth he used to play the game. He is a man of great mental toughness. Sitting through hours of commentary by Ray "french letters" French cannot be easy. I am told that Jonathan's predecessor threw himself out of the gantry during one of Ray's anecdotes about playing a game on frozen ground during the winter of 1946.

I hope we have more luck with Mr Davies on our next visit. Last time Mother had composed a poem "Jonathan my Jonathan with your cheeky impish grin". Mr Protheroe had got a jar of vintage "ChateauBillinge " pickled turnips and I had created a fuzzy felt picture of Jonathan and Robbie Paul eating some chips. When we got to what we believe is Jonathan's home we knocked and knocked on his door. No answer. So Mr Pew shouted through his letter box. I recall his exact words:
" We've been driving for 6 hours its 3am in the morning and freezing can you let us in? Mrs McGillyCuddy needs your toilet and Mr Protheroe's turnips go a funny colour in the cold!"
Within minutes the local police turned up. They thought my fuzzy felt picture was very pretty.