h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Hai Dai. Found you! Sally is here. And Ian Heavy is here too. Search 'Delwyn' and you will get to Sally's space. I left a message there which seemed to have started a thread. Nothing substantive or even mildly entertaining. I will quickly throw together an interim introduction with 'Delwyn's kebabs' in it so that searching gets folk to my space too. All the best, Ani Ibiishikaa.

Hello Ani

Sorry not to get back to you sooner but I've had no end of problems with passwords and user names etc etc that's what comes of trying to type one handed while holding a torch in the other hand - it's still not safe to come out from under the blanket as Mam remains on the warpath Still the committee meetings have been quite cosy especially after a few of Delwyn’s finest.

Off now to search for “Delwyn” though God know’s it’s usually only a matter of waiting until he gets upwind then [eyes watering] zero in!

All the best for now

Dai

Hopefully the beeb site won’t crash until after I post this thing!

Yes, holding a torch under your blanket is particularly tricky if said torch is actually a flame-carrying device of the olympic sort rather than a battery-operated device of the flashlight sort. But good on you for holding anything at all under your blanket! Cheery-pip, Ani.

Pnawn da Dai Bolos, Croeso i'r Cymryd sesiwn Chwarae. Wyt ti'n iawn? Dw i'n byw yn Bedfordshire, ble dych chi'n byw, yn Pensycor?

Hywl

Ian

Iain. Are you Welsh? You constantly surprise me.

I have been thinking that poor old Tim has been wanting a four for Mornington. Eliezer turned him down. I gather Dai plays. Do you play, Ian?

It hurts me to have to say that I dont know how to play. I would like to learn how to play. I have tried following the MC threads on h2g2. But they aren't entertaining enough or I can't follow the 'rules.'

Also it is really hard for me to keep flipping back and forth from my London Underground map on the internet. That is because the website I have been using is really primitive; you can't get around the map fast enough. Can anyone recommend a faster website?

I also have been wondering how people know which station to start from.

I gather Tim and Sally are having visitors for the long weekend.

The weather is absolutely boiling here in Turahnna, Ian. The streets have become parking lots because of the busker festival. But it is pleasant having music drift in through the windows.

Toodle-oo. Ani.

Erm Ani,

The rules of MC parallel almost exactly those governing last night's mega-thread on the CMB and iF yoU doN't know which station to start from, I'm afraid I can't help you!

Sally

PS the baby is lovely - full of smiles and very bouncy.

Hi Ani, no I'm only virtually Welsh, I enjoy rugby. I used to be looked after well by the Welsh when working in the principality. My Welsh consists of hello, good-bye, keep going and the score.

It took me ten mins to write that, I thought I'd try and make Dai feel at home, it's pretty basic stuff.

Won't be around much today, I'm fixing a pal's car, and the rest of the Heavy household are on a Chruch in Action day. Something thought up by my daughter and her friend, a series of events serving the town.

They're doing a hand car wash for free in the chruch car parks this morning.

Next week I'm doing a tea for the town's senior citizens. I think I'm also doing a barbie for the volunteers.

Seeya later.

Ian

I'd add to what Sally says, and its like a gentle version of a loose maul. Ian

Right! Well then, if it's only a matter of being loosely mauled I think I can handle that.

Now I have seen a few versions of MC which I could actually understand. One seemed to be a matter of matching the first letter. For example, EMBANKMENT -- EDGEWARE ROAD. And then imposing some delightfully absurd and arbitrary rule to change the first letter.

MUDCHUTE seems to be consistently used in a very puzzling way. (So I have added it to my armament.)

Another example was medical MC which involved medical pretexts for having to go to a particular station; it was a very chatty game. I like the Excuses Only version. I like the Each Post is a Limerick version.

The only one that gives me trouble is the one where posters only post the name of a station (without chatting) and where there doesnt seem to be any rhyme or reason for using the stations.

Well, Ian, have a good weekend hanging out at the carwash with the Church. And Sally I am glad you are enjoying the baby. Toodle-oo, Ani.

Hello Dai,

It might be safe to come out now. Ani's been doing a sterling job in laying false trails for you. In fact, I heard that your Mam was last spotted on the Picadilly line, muttering about the longest possible route to Mornington Crescent.

By the way, you aren't any relation to Dai Jones, are you?

Sally

Dai. Re <>. I would like to be able to say I have laid a trail of kebabs. But we don't have kebabs in Canada. We have giros though. What I have laid is a trail of veggie dogs. And bingo cards. Mam will never find you now. Ani.

Noswaith dda Ian. Sut dych chi?

Well thanks for the welcome butty bach it brought a lump to my throat, a tear to my eye and a burning sensation to the pit of my stomach.

I don’t know how I can break it to you but there is no gentle way. No, I don’t live in Penscynor! I mentioned Penscynor Wildlife Park, in conversation with Ani, [regarding a true incident concerning Delwyn and the Llamas – more revelations later] and she sort of took to the name and expanded the whole thing into Tales of Penscynor Woods [the title of my forthcoming book] so now it is only natural that the institute should find its virtual home in the little hamlet of Penscynor.

My home is Craig Cefn Parc, a little village nestled on a hilltop, high up the Swansea Valley on the river Clydach. Like Penscynor, it is so far up the valley that the bus only stops here every alternate leap year i.e. the proverbial place “where the sun don’t shine”. Our only claim to fame, since Nixons Colliery closed, is our local bard, Siadwel Hopkin, who came fourth in the semi-national Urdd with his rendition of Myfanwy on jaws harp and spoons.

The Working Men's Institute does exist. Honest. Well almost. It’s based upon my recollections of the Clydach “Working Men's Club and Institute” which, as the name suggests was found in Clydach, very nearly next-door to the library, and really did have an apparently infinite number of committees manned by the proverbial “committee men” i.e. God’s chosen own!

Me and the lads down the institute are busy planning the Grand Gala Re-Opening and Membership drive with Mornington Crescent [Tudor Court Rules just to please Tim], Llama worrying, pole dancing [Hygiene and her cousin Windowlene complete with telegraph pole], with lava bread on- a-stick, spit roast Welsh cakes [Idris says he will supply the spit] and of course Delwyn’s special Coronation [1] Chicken kebabs and “genuine” Põrk [2] Sausage ina bun. More details to follow.

Hwyl am y tro!

Dai

[1] A small prize will be awarded for correctly guessing (a) the specific coronation, (b) the year it took place and (c) whether the chicken succumbed to foul pest and departed this mortal coil before, during or after the actual event

[2] Põrk; small town in Albania located between its sister hamlets of Ntrælz and Skråtçýiñgs; famous for its world renowned animal effluent and biological waste disposal and reprocessing plant.

Hello Sally

You didn’t hear then? Mam just found out where I was hiding ~ Siadwel, having sworn Bessy Thomas to secrecy, divulged the details of my hideout, so the whole village knew within minutes. Mam was round the Library like the blitzkrieg. When riled, and at full pelt, she can be a fearsome sight. She’s a powerfully built woman ~ could have played prop for Wales but for the foul language and mindless violence. The lads on the team just couldn’t put up with it so she had to go.

Upshot is I’ve been grounded for a week which isn’t so bad as it will give the scars time to heal. But I’ve not been idle. As I mentioned to Ian, me and the lads have been planning a Grand Re-Opening extravaganza and bun fight. More details to follow.

All the best

Dai

Related to Dai Jones? Not as far as I know but who’s he belong to?

Hello Ani

The false trail didn’t work and Mam found out where I was hiding. Any chance you could bring one of the veggie dogs round by here? While I’m grounded I’m on a strict diet of cold lava bread and liver sautéed in spaghetti hoops [the limit of Mam’s cuisine] so even one of your veggie dogs would make things seem better [don’t be daft I’m not going to eat it – just looking at it will make the cold lava bread and liver sautéed in spaghetti hoops just that little bit more palatable.]

All the best

Dai

Hello Dai,

Sorry to hear you've been grounded. Just think of all the extra time you'll have to reflect. Looking forward immensely to the re-opening ceremony. Simultaneous translation to be provided by Ian, now he's so superlatively demonstrated his command of the welsh language (Don't ask me - I skipped all my welsh lessons)

Oh, he was just a Dai I used to know.

Sally

Hi Ani,

I think you mean gyros, not giros - giros are the small cheques I recieve from the government every two weeks as payment for my services as a professional statistic and "Restart" attendee.

TTFEH

Dai me old Mucker,

The bun fight is off - Sally and I were propping up the bar at the old Toad and Scrotum last night....

The landlady does a cracking steak - Sally ordered hers rare and we heard the cry go up from the kitchen "Cut the horns off, wipe its arse and wheel it out to table 3"

Anyway, the long and the short of it was that it was BBQ night, so the denizens were gorging themselves on sossige: inna bun. Needless to say the buns went before the sossiges (no references to Hygiene and Lumpy please)

TTFEH

Bore da, Dai! Herewith as requested . Ani

Dai, I must say that I find the title 'Penscynor Woods Wildlife Park for Endangered Species and Dinosaurs' somewhat poignant. It is one of those concepts for which one minute of silence is the only appropriate response. Ani.

Ian. Yes. That would have been the time Tim and Dai crashed my Mars Rover. It was 'herding' sheep, they said. Wot with all the metaphysical poetry about sheep in their nylon wool and er stockings, however, I somewhat doubt it was 'herding' they were up to. 'Chasing' is more like it. Well, a nod's as good as a wink. Ani.