Leaving Malborough Village Hall

I went to an alehouse I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent

Sat down to watch my nan's 40th wedding anniversary video this weekend. It was shot in September 1992, when I was but 12 years of age. Thankfully, I only appear in the video once or twice, as the cameraman was concentrating more on the laudable dancing skills of the older guests --
(and here was I thinking the Welsh were bad dancers. The Irish do themselves no favours here, up to forty people all performing the same one-step dance moves -- it's like the whole room can't decide between walking forwards and walking backwards, and guys, no ones going to arrest you if you move your arms once in a while)
-- but the point I was trying to raise, was that I was one funny-looking kid when I was 12, and I guess the reality of that's only sinking in now I can look back a dozen years. A lot scrawnier than I am now (I hadn't discovered beer yet, and thus hadn't set about building the gut), I appear to be all head. Just this massive head and an impressively bouffant hair-do with a stick of a body floating around underneath.

How this kid ever turned into the handsome specimen you all know and love is a mystery :)

Another worrying thing is that -- at 12 -- I'm already one of the
tallest people in the room.

Later . . .