The Day After

The Day After
The Day After

The Day After

The day after my birthday that is. Everywhere is very quiet, and everyone, except a trader in a van selling watermelons. She’s beeping the horn every few seconds and it’s loud. I haven’t seen her yet, but I’ve been able to hear her for ten minutes. I don’t have to see her, I recognise the noise. She’s a bloody nuisance who comes here every other day from another village to flog her wares and wake up all the babies and pensioners who are enjoying an afternoon nap.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she lived here. I would love to see her car’s engine explode just to shut the selfish woman up. And it has nothing to do with a ‘day after the night before’ hangover. I just don’t like gratuitous noise and am becoming increasingly intolerant of it. Now some sod has left his old diesel tractor running not four feet from me and gone into the shop.

Does he really think that I want to listen to his engine and savour its exhaust while he’s not there to enjoy the pleasures with me?

It’s funny how sometimes it seems that people know what annoys you and go out of their way to do it, isn’t it?

People here know that this is the day after my birthday because all their kids are on Facebook. Many older people are asking how old I am so they can use the number on their national lottery card tomorrow – the lottery is played on the first and the sixteenth of the month. I do hope that I’m not going to be the source of disappointment to a load of the village oldies.

That bloody woman and her watermelons has finally got to where I’m sitting, so now I have to wait for her to get down to the end of the road/village and come back again, which means fifteen to twenty minutes of a supped up horn and shouting.

I hope you’re having a better day.

All the best,

Owen

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Owen
Owen

Owen Jones, Amazon Best-Selling Author from Barry, Wales, has lived in several countries and travelled in many more. While studying Russian in the USSR in the '70's, he hobnobbed with spies on a regular basis; in Suriname, he got caught up in the 1982 coup; and while a company director, he joined the crew of four as the galley slave to sail from Barry to Gibraltar a home-made concrete yacht, which was almost rammed by a Russian oil tanker and an American aircraft carrier.
“I am a Celt, and we are romantic”, he said when asked about his writing style, “and I firmly believe in reincarnation, Karma and Fate, so, sayings like 'Do unto another...', and 'What goes round comes around' are central to my life and reflected in my work. I write about what I see, or think I see, or dream... and, in the end it is all the same really”. He speaks seven languages and is learning Thai, since he lives in Thailand with his Thai wife of fifteen years.
His first novel, Daddy's Hobby is from the seven-part series 'Behind The Smile: The Story of Lek, a Bar Girl in Pattaya', but his largest collection is 'The Megan Series', twenty-three novelettes on the psychic development of a teenage girl, the subtitle of which, 'A Spirit Guide, A Ghost Tiger and One Scary Mother!' sums them up nicely. He has written fifty novels and novelettes, including: Dead Centre; Andropov's Cuckoo; Fate Twister; The Disallowed (a philosophical comedy); Tiger Lily of Bangkok; and A Night in Annwn (Annwn being the ancient Welsh word for Heaven). Many have been translated into foreign languages and narrated into audio books.
Owen Jones writes stories set in Wales, Spain and Thailand, where he now lives. He is a life-long Spiritualist, and this belief is interwoven, in a very realistic way, into many of his books and storylines. If you like a touch of the 'supernatural', try his books
He sums his life up thus: “Born in the Land of Song, Living in the Land of Smiles”.

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