Pointy Poles in Porthmadog

A rubber stamp used for levels of appreciation of telegraph polesOoh!  Bit of a dilemma here.  You see, our TPAS motto is "If it's tall, wooden, sticky-uppy and got wires all coming out the top then it gets appreciated".  But then have a look at these fine finialed METAL beauties spotted recently in Porthmadog.  As you can see from my appreciation stamp I just had to tick the two boxes.  A sort of Schrödinger's appreciation - a superposition of appreciation and non-appreciation.

The final photo in the set - a close up of the background shows Cnicht, aka The Welsh Matterhorn.  A gorgeous climb where you can stand at the top with a magnificent view and look over and laugh at the queues for the trig-point on neighbouring Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa to us).

Addiction

Addiction
 /əˈdɪkʃ(ə)n/
noun

Addiction is a brain disorder characterized by compulsive engagement in rewarding stimuli, despite adverse consequences. We’re all familiar with the image of the park-bench wino supping from the brown bag containing turpentine, or the nicotine addicts huddled in windblown corner of a public space or even the terrible affliction that is addiction to peanut M&Ms – Incredibly, my wife once witnessed a yellow M&M roll all the way down the aisle of the 101 service to Oswestry (via St. Martins & Chirk) through all the spilt pop, spittle and shoe poo debris only to be picked up and eaten without a thought by an addict at the back. She said she wouldn’t be surprised if I got dysentry.

And so it is with Hops. Anyone who knows me will know of my affinity for hoppy-as-hell IPAs. Sometimes with ale so bitter as to turn my face inside-out. My ability to combine, chemically, with pale ale is such that it ought to be taught at schools. And it doesn’t have to be in beer either. Picture #2 below is a hop plant I grew up my very own telegraph pole. Crush those drying flowers in your hand and sniff – your life will never be your own again. This is called the “Hop Scratch” apparently, and I have it bad. Once we had cut it down for the garlands supposedly for decoration, my wife (again) caught me rolling in it on our dining room floor like a cat in the catnip.

Anyway, I was reminded of all this by an email received this week from Alan Pink who sent us picture #1 of a hop-infested pole in Kent, on the corner by Thanington church on the outskirts of Canterbury). He wonders if we might be interested… As if?