Joys of Unexpected Things

This is - guess - more advice from my passive-aggressive screw-up of a future self. 'What would you never usually react favourably to, Iestyn? Well - point out the joy in it today with an exclamation of rapt delight!'

'Oh, look, hoorah, lock-off cameras!'
'How glorious, see, window cleaning in progress!'
'Woohoo, its stock-taking day at the book shop!'
'Larks a mercy, it's the Pinney's Oysters Van!'
'My day in the hills, they've painted the wrong colour around that drainpipe!'
'The Wifi is deliciously, deliciously slow!'
'How divine, darling, Judge Judy episodes are only available on YouTube posted in little onscreen boxes, with leaves falling around, played at the wrong speed!'
'Yippee, I'm still owed nearly three grand after two years and am about to resort to small claims myself!'

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Me Featuring in The Sunday Times, Nicely...

This happened. The editor thinks it's a book of dog sitter stories waiting to happen. I am scribbling away at same... I first house-sat by accident. I was originally at Haven House, Lembton, as a live-in safety net for Lady Olive Simmonds, a seventy-nine year-old Bostonian with a lilac afro, a Temazepam habit and leg ulcers. Haven House was by the sea. Eighteenth century, elegant, comfortable. But there was Olive... Always in pain; either drunk, hungover or both; barely educated. She had married a man who was knighted, and believed this gave her a licence to be a twat. According to Olive, her fellow Lembtonians were all dull academics - this group having reading ages older than hers, which was thirteen - or failed schizophrenics. She had serious monophobia, with staff working (unnecessarily) every day apart from weekends. At weekends, first thing, anxious, she would ring round the Lembtonians that were still speaking to her - six in number - inviting them for coffee, ...

In The Times again...

The Marine Says I Must Re-queer...

Being camp in Camp Basra... Stacks, ex-Royal Marines Commando, recently watched my Tutu Went AWOL! show on Zoom. He had notes. I was shifting from foot to foot, he said, and gesturing too much. 'And you must put back the stuff about the Brigadier and your fellow comedian being homophobic...' The Brigadier had been sneering about my act, saying it would be more suited to Butlins. But, more importantly, he believed I was an 'inappropriate influence on 42 Commando'. Stacks, deadpan, commented, 'Sir, before Iestyn started hanging out with us, sir, it had never occurred to him to play Tiddlywinks with anything other than his thumb, sir.' My fellow comedian, who I'll call Mark, because that's his name, asked Reg, Garrison Sergeant Major, in front of ...

Iestyn Edwards is...what?

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