Don't Mind If I Do

Is there anybody out there??

2010-04-23T23:53:00.010+01:00

My mum won tickets to go and see a psychic medium. She asked me if I'd like to go along. "This is bound to be shite," I thought.

"Sure", I said. "Why not?"

Now the thing is I'd love to believe there's life out there. Somewhere we can all hang out with our grandparents and long-lost pets. And if I could get proof it ain't all over when it's over, I'd be ecstatic. It just hasn't happened yet.

So it was with a half open mind that I went along to see Shaun Dennis. The poor northern man's John Edwards in an ill fitting suit jacket and bad hair. He was half stand up comedian, half bingo caller, and apparently part medium.

"I'm getting an Alex, an Alex. Anyone? Alex. It could be Alan. Anyone? Alan. A name beginning with A.L.?"

Looked like I wasn't going to get my proof of the afterlife tonight.

But then things picked up. He had a few tenuous strikes of gold as the evening wore on, a few correct house numbers, a few dead relatives in the navy, and then suddenly he got on a roll.

"Ok I'm getting a Patricia, she's covered in red patches, a terrible rash, sore patches, and she's drinking acid."

"That could be my mother," piped up one bald dude in the audience. "Her name was Patricia, she was stung by a bee came out in a bad reaction. Big red patches."

"And did she take acid?"

"She had to apply some kind of acid."

"And it wasn't this that killed her, but it contributed to her death?"

"Yes."

"And there's a James, son of James who has been pulled over by the police for speeding, and sorry to say this, was carrying some weed in his pocket and I don't mean the Bill & Ben variety?"

"Err yes, that's my cousin James. Patricia's grandson. His father was James too."

"I don't think he's going to get into much trouble."

"No, he just got a pardon."

"And I seem to think that it won't slow him down!"

"No, it won't!"

"And I'm seeing something like the two-finger signal as he drives by. Does that make sense?"

"Yes he has that sticker in the back of his car."

Now I kid you not. This was all said. As I write this I'm wondering whether that guy was planted and we were all stitched up. But there was more conversations like that that seemed, well, convincing.

Then he spoke to my mum about 'Margaret or Peggy' (my nan), who's linked to the letter H - Halifax? (Hornchurch - where my mum was born), and a guy who'd had bowel or stomach problems (my grandad), and he'd had an operation that had led to complications, to adhesions. (He'd had an operation which resulted in severe adhesions and him having half his bowel removed.) Then he asked my mum "did someone meet royalty? or live in a street that was called King St, or Queen St, or Queen's Rd near a station? It might not be you, it might be someone with you." And it took me a while, but then I grabbed the mike and said, "I've met Prince Charles, and I lived in Queen's Rd near a station."

And I moved there shortly after my grandad died.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not convinced. But there was something in it. And a big part of me wanted to believe. I came out still sceptical, but a bit more open.

Then we were handed flyers for more medium action the next night. Oh shit.

I really couldn't be bothered and had been really looking forward to a night in, but my 'yes' urge took over. Plus my mum reminded me that I'd been trying to persuade her to join me on my 'yes' mission. So tonight we headed back to the Queen's Hall to join the Spiritual Church of Narberth.

Now luckily I hadn't seen the word 'church' before giving it my 'yes'. I naively thought it would be an open night of psychics on tables that you could go and have a chat with. Instead we were welcomed into a room which was set up like... a church. We were given hymn books, and sat facing an altar with a big cross on it. Some people were getting spiritual healing, and others were sat chatting.

Me, my mum and her mate denny glanced at each other as we sat down, and smiled politely at all the other ladies who all seemed to know each other. It was all very informal, and thankfully carried on that way once the 'service' had begun. We sang a few hymns (I had to contain bursts of laughter more than once), and then we had an oddly fitting reading from Helen Steiner-Rice about being thankful (something I'm big into at the moment).

Then the evening's medium stood up and started giving out her messages. I liked this cuddly peach-clad woman more than sketchy blazer dude from the night before. Though while some of it was pretty persuasive and she seemed to know what she was talking about, there was nothing that made me sit up and clap "hallelujah, there is life after death!"

Overall this was a big 'yes' success. It wasn't life changing, but it was life enhancing. I'm just loving the random places it's taking me, into random people's lives. These people get together on a Friday night, sing hymns and receive messages from the dead. And then do a raffle. Brilliant.

I won this:

Apparently my 'Free Life Activation taster session' will take place at the crystal shop down the road from the hall. Watch this space.

Sweet Sundowner

2010-04-20T22:39:00.003+01:00

I was on an epic journey home yesterday from Ireland, via a very early start, a post-volcano packed ferry, a motorbike ride, tea + cake with my great uncle and many hours driving down through Wales in my old ford escort. I was supposed to be popping in and see my friend Kerry on my way through Aberystwyth much earlier in the day. But as I got there it was getting on for 8pm, the sun was on its way out, and I still had an hour and half of driving to go. I was knackered.

I texted Kerry and said I'd probably skip Aber so I could drive back while it was still light. This felt uncomfortably like a 'no'.

She texted: "I'm at the glen pub, on the prom at the far (north) end. Come! x"

Don't mind if I do.

Rita my escort taking in the view.

Going overground

2010-04-09T17:27:00.007+01:00

The other day I met up with my good friend Carrie who was visiting London town. We had no plans, just to hang out. We were heading to the tube station when I said, "how bout we do something different and take a bus?" She looked nervous.

Our maiden voyage traversed the highways and by-ways between Paddington and St Pauls. OK it seemed to take a very... long... time... But as we headed down Oxford St and Regent St, and through Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square, we got more and more excited, like we were on our own special sight-seeing trip.

Not only did we have a bird's eye view from our top deck, but we got to see things we'd never see from the tube. A photoshoot outside a top-dollar restaurant, rows of leotard-clad girls reciting to a matronly dame, a half eaten pie atop a bus stop. All of it London, all of it beautiful.

Then after hopping off and soaking up the culture in the Tate Modern (as Carrie concluded: "some of it's art, but some of it's shit), we popped to St Paul's and discovered it was ₤12.50 to enter, or free if you were there to worship. We glanced at each other before singing in unison: "we're here to worship!"

We were handed a psalm book and got our very own front row seats in the dome, with a bird's eye view of the choir boys (poor buggers). I got goose bumps as they sang. It was beautiful once-in-a-lifetime stuff. Though we were both slightly pre-occupied by the even more exciting thought of Charles and Diana standing just feet away on their big day.

The next day our sightseeing bus trip landed us in Covent Garden for lunch and then a short stumble into Leicester Sq. There we made up for our free entry into St Paul's by saying yes each to a ₤16.50 ticket to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D. I shed a small tear as I paid and had to remind myself that saying yes is always worth it. After all, we did get to keep the glasses. Brilliant.

Don't follow Rachel

2010-04-08T22:56:00.006+01:00

My mum invited me to go line dancing with her on a Monday night. Of course I laughed at her, but then I remembered that I'm a sucker for a dance routine and need the exercise, so I said 'yes'.

As we walk in to the local hall, mum introduces me to the girls - this is Fran, she’s a good one to copy as she always knows all the moves, this is Pat, she teaches these routines on a Thursday. We smile and say our hellos. "And don’t follow Rachel." I turn to the next lady ready to laugh with her at mum’s joke, when I see that she’s not laughing, she's mentally challenged. Mum's not joking, she's giving me advice. I choke a “Hi Rachel” and spend the rest of the class creasing up at mum's charming social skills.

So that's how I find myself, big grin on my face, step-ball-changing and toe-heeling with rows of ripe aged ladies, following a potbellied dude sporting a grey mullet and cowboy boots as he sashays around the stage in his Madonna style headset.

I love it. I don't know if it's the lame music, the concentrating hard on learning new routines, or watching the coordinated hips and elbows of the ladies all around me. But I tell you what, it makes me happy. So much so, I keep going back for more. Monday nights have never been so much fun.

Different books, different covers

2010-04-02T17:22:00.001+01:00

Lately I've been covering my notebooks (I LOVE notebooks) in different paper. Scraps of wrapping paper, clippings from magazines, collages from cut-up Sunday supplements. It's all pretty and it all makes me feel nice every time I look at them. Simple, but effective.

I want to break free

2010-04-01T16:03:00.001+01:00

My dad asked me to go and see a Queen tribute band recently called 'Mercury'. "Sounds terrible," I said. "Count me in."

Turns out Freddie's been eating very well in heaven, and Brian's wig has seen better days. Nevertheless I got to dance with my dad for the first time in about 15 years, so it was well worth it.

Free hug anyone?

2010-04-01T11:53:00.003+01:00

I was recently asked by an enigmatic new friend to help organise a 'reclaim love' party in Carmarthen town centre. I was dubious, so I checked out their website, and instantly felt more dubious. A bunch of hippies all holding hands and spreading the love. It was very 60s, very Woodstock, very un-Carmarthen. I said 'yes'.

It was short notice, but we managed to organise some free-loving folk via Facebook. I wigged-up for the event to give myself something to hide behind, and decided the best way to spread the love was to give out free hugs. So I fashioned together some signs from cardboard, old xmas wrapping paper and my mum's bingo pen.

On the morning of the event I wanted to pull out, this was going to be humiliating. But despite being terrified we'd get punched by Carmarthen townies, or arrested, it went brilliantly. Most people were willing to get a hug, some said they hadn't been hugged all week, people hugged each other, teenagers joined in hugging strangers, and I hugged people I wouldn't usually sit next to on a bus.

It felt great. Nearly everyone went away laughing or in the least smiling, and I came away buzzing. If we didn't spread love that day, we definitely spread some happiness. Brilliant.

WOW film festival reviews

2010-03-28T09:07:00.003+01:00

My friend invited me to review films on camera for the World On Wales film festival. I was scared, from past experience I act like a strange mutant when being filmed, but hell I said 'yes' anyway.

At first it was a bit awkward and I was a bit crap, then the more we did the more fun it became and the better I got. Though I use the term 'review' loosely.

I was then asked to vlog the opening night of the festival in cardiff, during which I drank loads of free wine and fell asleep half way through a truly awful Columbian film about a man whose accordion was possessed by the devil.

here I am 'reviewing' films... (they are in reverse order from 'better' to 'bit crap')

i love russian dolls

2010-03-24T22:02:00.000Z

and i want to live in this girl's house.

why I'm so gwendoline

2010-02-07T20:00:00.001Z

so the urban dictionary definition for my name (retarded facebook trend of the week) is:

gwendoline:
the complete package

the lifestyle I am living at the moment is so gwendoline

couldn't have said it better myself!