When his da’s da wasn’t driving the Lattelekom Bakery truck he was dreaming about Jersey Caws Nantybwla soft cheese, know for its naturally creamy, clean rich distinctive flavour. Available in 4. 5kgs (approx.) and 2kgs (approx.) wheels and round waxed mini approx. 350gms. Turn left at the gatehouse road, follow the mile-long road 2 miles north of Carmarthen town then turn right onto Trevaughan Road. And when his da’s da wasn’t dreaming about cheese he was dreaming about places he’d never visit, places like Montferrat Pontefract, Tallinn Harjumaa, Ripe Emilia-Romagna, Benicarl Comunidad Valenciana, where a reproduction of Dona Narcisa Baranana de Goicoechea hung in a woolshed, and Gothenburg Vastra Gotaland.
As you wade into the stream remember that stones have feelings and hurt when you crush them under foot and cane. His da’s da told him this over and over again out back of the woolshed behind the 2 mile road. His da’s da telled stories no one wanted to listen to, stories with stupid endings and even stupider beginnings. Da’s das are like that, always one for fables and old wives’ tales, things that people with half a brain could care less about, stupid things that made you scream out loud begging for the da’s da to stop, please! The man in the hat’s da’s da was deaf as a post, so he had to scream and holler whenever he wanted to say something. ‘…I can’t abide by all this hollering…’ said his da, ‘…it makes a man want to holler his self…’.
He knew it best not to keep under foot, so he spent his afternoons fishing for toads and slugs behind the old Mason’s house. He fed the caught toad a slug then watch as the slug struggled to get out of the toad’s mouth. Behind the old Mason’s house was a fenced in area where they used to keep rabbits and chickens. The ground was hard and scored with chicken scratch and rabbit footprints, and next to the saltbox was a dead thing that’d broken down to nothing in the dead leaves and mud. The Masons left one day when the sun was at its highest in the sky, leaving behind their dog, a pen full of rabbits and a few deathly looking chickens. People said they up and left on account their youngest daughter was carrying one of the Liepaja Stepbrothers’ (of Latvia) babies, and on account of Masons aren’t suppose to break up their family, even though it was just the youngest daughter that’d brought ‘the shame’ on the family. He could smell the stink of rabbit shit and piss, the Mason’s sledge taking the animal out at the haunches, the legs beating the air like a wind chimes, eyes black with death. When he didn’t want to risk getting caught under foot, he spent hours scouting the yard where the Masons slaughtered rabbits and chickens, rabid dogs and other peoples’ pets. He found quiet here, among the skeletal trees and coffin weeds.
As you wade into the stream remember that stones have feelings and hurt when you crush them under foot and cane. His da’s da told him this over and over again out back of the woolshed behind the 2 mile road. His da’s da telled stories no one wanted to listen to, stories with stupid endings and even stupider beginnings. Da’s das are like that, always one for fables and old wives’ tales, things that people with half a brain could care less about, stupid things that made you scream out loud begging for the da’s da to stop, please! The man in the hat’s da’s da was deaf as a post, so he had to scream and holler whenever he wanted to say something. ‘…I can’t abide by all this hollering…’ said his da, ‘…it makes a man want to holler his self…’.
He knew it best not to keep under foot, so he spent his afternoons fishing for toads and slugs behind the old Mason’s house. He fed the caught toad a slug then watch as the slug struggled to get out of the toad’s mouth. Behind the old Mason’s house was a fenced in area where they used to keep rabbits and chickens. The ground was hard and scored with chicken scratch and rabbit footprints, and next to the saltbox was a dead thing that’d broken down to nothing in the dead leaves and mud. The Masons left one day when the sun was at its highest in the sky, leaving behind their dog, a pen full of rabbits and a few deathly looking chickens. People said they up and left on account their youngest daughter was carrying one of the Liepaja Stepbrothers’ (of Latvia) babies, and on account of Masons aren’t suppose to break up their family, even though it was just the youngest daughter that’d brought ‘the shame’ on the family. He could smell the stink of rabbit shit and piss, the Mason’s sledge taking the animal out at the haunches, the legs beating the air like a wind chimes, eyes black with death. When he didn’t want to risk getting caught under foot, he spent hours scouting the yard where the Masons slaughtered rabbits and chickens, rabid dogs and other peoples’ pets. He found quiet here, among the skeletal trees and coffin weeds.
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