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Latest News and Blog Posts from Wayne “Pendragon” Owens.

Dear Roadwork Gods, Have I Upset You Again?

Mar 4, 2026 |

I am increasingly convinced that I’ve once again offended the Gods of Roadworks. There can be no other explanation for the chaos that unfolded last night, so allow me to present the evidence.

I’d been over in Mostyn for a meeting. All perfectly ordinary. I already knew the A55 eastbound was closed, (the very direction I needed) so I’d prepared myself like a seasoned traveller of North Wales: calm acceptance, alternative routes, and the quiet hope that the universe might show mercy. After all, there were several easy options.

Or so I thought.

No sooner had I committed to the simplest alternative route than I found myself plunged into a labyrinth of roadworks, diversions, and closures. It was as if every highway deity had gathered for a committee meeting and declared, “Let’s see how many cones we can throw at this man before he snaps.” (Well the joke is on them, I was never sane to start with!)

By the time I neared home, Waze, which at this point feels less like an app and more like a benevolent household spirit, instructed me to abandon civilisation entirely and head up a narrow mountain track I’d never even noticed before. Now, I’ve learned to trust Waze with the kind of faith usually reserved for prophets, so up the track I went. And thank goodness I did, because later I discovered that the road I would have taken was also closed. Naturally.

As a final flourish, I was treated to the surreal sight of a massive articulated lorry being diverted down a single‑lane, hedge‑lined country road that was barely wide enough for a determined sheep. Part of me wanted to follow it just to witness the inevitable moment it realised its mistake, but by then, I simply wanted to get home before the Gods of Roadworks found a fresh torment to unleash.

 

 

 

O2 Contract Renewal – AKA Scam Cold Callers

Mar 4, 2026 |

I’ve just received (checks notes) the twentieth phone call this week from a very polite, very determined, very Indian‑sounding gentleman named Dave. Or Steve. Or occasionally John. All of whom, coincidentally, are “just calling from O2 about my contract renewal.”

Now, according to them, they’re phoning from O2 HQ itself, eager to secure me a better deal. Yet somehow, despite this alleged insider status, they never seem to know what my current deal actually is. Not a clue. Not even a guess. Their system must be absolutely dreadful. (Which, to be fair, is entirely believable, if BT’s systems are anything to go by, chaos is practically a British telecom tradition.)

Still, I’m always polite. I tell them that if they can beat my current deal, I’ll happily consider switching. And then, with the straightest face imaginable, I invent something utterly ridiculous like:

“Unlimited data and unlimited calls for £5 a month.”

Then I sit back and enjoy the silence.

There’s always a pause, long enough for me to imagine them frantically scrolling through imaginary O2 databases, before they mutter something like, “Ah… that is a very good deal… err… we don’t think we can help you… err…”

It’s glorious.

There’s a special kind of joy in confusing a scammer into speechlessness. It’s like harmless mischief for the modern age. A little victory. A small moment of chaos. And honestly? It’s often far more entertaining than outright telling them to get lost.

The 30 Day Book Challenge – Day 03

Mar 4, 2026 |

The idea is delightfully simple: for 30 days, you post once a day in response to a book-themed question. That’s it. No essays, no footnotes, no need to summon the ghost of Shakespeare, just honest answers, curious reflections, and maybe a few cheeky confessions about your reading habits. I have decided to take part this year, and since I picked a month with 31 days (I know it would have made more sense to use a 30 day one) I am using March 1st to explain what I am doing.

Each day brings a new prompt: favourite characters, memorable endings, guilty pleasures, and the books that made you weep, rage, or fall in love with the written word. It’s a gentle nudge to celebrate your literary life, one post at a time.

So why not give it a go? Dust off your bookshelf, sharpen your wit, and join the challenge. Thirty days. Thirty questions. One slightly eccentric bookworm’s journey through the pages.

DAY 3. – The longest book you’ve read.

This one is surprisingly easy. I simply stood in front of my bookshelves, judged every spine by sheer girth alone, and one title towered above the rest.

Imajica by Clive Barker.

At a mighty 1,136 pages, it’s an absolute doorstopper. Yes, I know it’s technically two books—but when I first bought it, I had no idea. My edition was published as a single, glorious brick of a novel, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes it one book. If the publisher bound it as one volume, then one volume it shall remain. (My wrists still remember the experience.)

It’s sprawling, strange, beautiful, unsettling, and utterly Barker. A world—or several worlds—you fall into and emerge from days later, blinking like you’ve returned from a pilgrimage.

That said, an honourable mention must go to Journey to the West by Wu Cheng’en. My edition is a special box set, but the volumes are combined into one enormous tome. That beast clocks in at 1,851 pages, which is less a book and more a commitment. A spiritual workout. A literary marathon with monkeys, demons, monks, and enough chaos to keep anyone entertained.

But in terms of the book I read as a single book, spine unbroken and arms trembling, Imajica still takes the crown.

The 30 Day Book Challenge – Day 02

Mar 3, 2026 |

The idea is delightfully simple: for 30 days, you post once a day in response to a book-themed question. That’s it. No essays, no footnotes, no need to summon the ghost of Shakespeare, just honest answers, curious reflections, and maybe a few cheeky confessions about your reading habits. I have decided to take part this year, and since I picked a month with 31 days (I know it would have made more sense to use a 30 day one) I am using March 1st to explain what I am doing.

Each day brings a new prompt: favourite characters, memorable endings, guilty pleasures, and the books that made you weep, rage, or fall in love with the written word. It’s a gentle nudge to celebrate your literary life, one post at a time.

So why not give it a go? Dust off your bookshelf, sharpen your wit, and join the challenge. Thirty days. Thirty questions. One slightly eccentric bookworm’s journey through the pages.

DAY 2. – Favourite side character.

This one’s a tricky beast. So many books are brimming with brilliant supporting characters, those unsung heroes who steal scenes, deliver punchlines, and quietly hold the story together while the main protagonist hogs the glory. There are dozens I’d love to see get their own spin-off series. Bob the Skull from The Dresden Files, Othello from The Temple Chronicles, Gilmore from Critical Role… the list goes on.

But today, I’m choosing one standout companion: Oberon the Irish Wolfhound from The Iron Druid Chronicles.

Why? Because he’s a puppeh. That’s reason enough.

But also because he’s hysterical, loyal, and brave, everything you want in a sidekick, especially one who can communicate telepathically and wax lyrical about sausages. Oberon is Atticus O’Sullivan’s furry battle-buddy, comic relief, and emotional anchor rolled into one oversized, slobbery package. Whether they’re fleeing gods, fighting fae, or just trying to survive modern Arizona, Oberon is there with snark, heart, and a tail wag.

My favourite scene? Easy. Atticus’s shop gets raided, and Oberon, who’s been snoozing peacefully, is suddenly made invisible and told to stay hidden. Later, Atticus instructs him to sneak out without alerting the intruders. So what does our stealthy ninja pup do? He tiptoes through the chaos, telepathically declaring himself a master of disguise, a shadow in the night… while knocking over shelves, clattering into furniture, and causing a ruckus that would wake the dead. All while invisible. All while insisting he’s the very essence of stealth.

It’s pure joy. And it’s why Oberon deserves his own series. Or at least a novella. Or a podcast. Or a sausage-themed memoir.

The 30 Day Book Challenge – Day 01

Mar 2, 2026 |

The idea is delightfully simple: for 30 days, you post once a day in response to a book-themed question. That’s it. No essays, no footnotes, no need to summon the ghost of Shakespeare, just honest answers, curious reflections, and maybe a few cheeky confessions about your reading habits. I have decided to take part this year, and since I picked a month with 31 days (I know it would have made more sense to use a 30 day one) I am using March 1st to explain what I am doing.

Each day brings a new prompt: favourite characters, memorable endings, guilty pleasures, and the books that made you weep, rage, or fall in love with the written word. It’s a gentle nudge to celebrate your literary life, one post at a time.

So why not give it a go? Dust off your bookshelf, sharpen your wit, and join the challenge. Thirty days. Thirty questions. One slightly eccentric bookworm’s journey through the pages.

DAY 1. – A book series you wish had gone on longer OR a book series you wish would just end already.

Today’s prompt offers two paths:

  • A book series you wish had gone on longer
  • A book series you wish would just end already

Now, as a devoted bibliophile and unapologetic hoarder of stories, I must confess, I could never choose the second option. Even if a particular series didn’t tickle my fancy, I know full well that someone, somewhere, treasures it deeply. And who am I to trample on their joy? Just because I didn’t enjoy it doesn’t mean their opinion is invalid. (Even if it is. Profoundly. But we’ll let that slide.)

So, onward to the first option: a book series I wish had continued. There are many contenders, worlds I’ve wandered through and characters I’ve grown fond of, but one series stands above the rest.

Yes, I know it already boasts 41 main titles, plus short stories, spin-offs, and companion volumes. But I still choose Discworld. Why? Because if there were more Discworld books, it would mean that the incomparable Sir Terry Pratchett was still with us, still weaving satire, wisdom, and hilarity into every page. His voice was one of rare brilliance, and the world needs more of that now than ever.

We need more Terrys. More gentle mockery of pompous institutions. More clever footnotes. More librarians who say “Ook.” And more reminders, tucked between the jokes, that kindness and courage matter.

So yes, I wish the series had gone on longer, not just for the stories, but for the storyteller.

Happy St David’s Day from the Land of Leeks, Legends, and Laughter!

Mar 1, 2026 |

On this most Welsh of days, when daffodils bloom, dragons stir, and even the leeks stand tall with pride. We raise a toast (of water, if we’re being strangely saintly) to Dewi Sant, our patron of piety, poetry, and peculiar diets.

Born in the 6th century on a stormy Pembrokeshire clifftop (because of course he was), St David lived a life so austere he made monks look like party animals. He preached, he prayed, he founded monasteries, and he famously lived on leeks and water. No beer. No meat. No nonsense (AKA Insanity). Just spiritual grit and a dove on his shoulder.

Legend says that when he spoke at Llanddewi Brefi, the ground itself rose beneath him so all could hear, proving that even the earth couldn’t resist a good Welsh sermon.

His final words? “Gwnewch y pethau bychain” or “Do the little things”.
A reminder that greatness often begins with small acts, quiet kindness, and the occasional leek.

So today, whether you’re wearing a daffodil, baking Welsh cakes, or just whispering “Cymru am byth” to your coffee, know that you’re part of a proud, poetic, and slightly eccentric lineage.

Happy St David’s Day, dear friends.
May your dragons be fierce, your leeks be fresh, and your little things be legendary.

The 30 Day Book Challenge – Day 00

Mar 1, 2026 |

The idea is delightfully simple: for 30 days, you post once a day in response to a book-themed question. That’s it. No essays, no footnotes, no need to summon the ghost of Shakespeare, just honest answers, curious reflections, and maybe a few cheeky confessions about your reading habits. I have decided to take part this year, and since I picked a month with 31 days (I know it would have made more sense to use a 30 day one) I am using March 1st to explain what I am doing.

Each day brings a new prompt: favourite characters, memorable endings, guilty pleasures, and the books that made you weep, rage, or fall in love with the written word. It’s a gentle nudge to celebrate your literary life, one post at a time.

So why not give it a go? Dust off your bookshelf, sharpen your wit, and join the challenge. Thirty days. Thirty questions. One slightly eccentric bookworm’s journey through the pages.

Hack the Planet: Celebrating 30 Years of Hackers

Feb 20, 2026 |

The Film That Told Us the Good Guys Wore Leather Jackets and Typed Really Fast

Thirty years. Let that sink in for a moment.

It’s been three whole decades since Hackers burst onto our screens in a neon‑soaked blaze of rollerblades, attitude, and the kind of computer graphics that looked like someone fed a migraine into a PlayStation One. And yet — somehow — it still feels fresh, iconic, and weirdly prophetic.

Because Hackers wasn’t just a film. It was a vibe. A manifesto. A love letter to the misfits who saw the world differently.

And, most importantly, it was one of the first mainstream films to say something radical for its time:

The hackers are the good guys.

Not the villains. Not the shadowy figures in basements. Not the boogeymen of the nightly news.

But the heroes.

Back in 1995, the word “hacker” conjured images of trench‑coated cyber‑criminals breaking into NORAD to start World War III. The media loved a good panic, and computers were still mysterious enough that people believed anything. Then along came Hackers: a film that said:

“Actually, hackers are curious, creative, rebellious, and often the only ones standing between the world and the real villains.”

And it was right. The film understood something the world would only realise years later: hackers aren’t dangerous. ignorance is!

What made the Hackers crew heroic wasn’t their ability to type at 200 words per minute while wearing sunglasses indoors. It was their mindset. They questioned everything. They refused to accept the official story. They dug deeper. They saw patterns others missed. They believed information should be free, or at least not weaponised by corporate greed.

In other words, they were the digital descendants of every curious soul who ever took something apart just to see how it worked. And let’s be honest, who among us hasn’t felt that itch?

A Film That Accidentally Predicted the Future

Let’s give credit where it’s due. Hackers predicted:

  • hacktivism
  • digital whistleblowing
  • corporate cyber‑crime
  • online communities
  • the idea that young people with laptops could change the world

It even predicted the fashion comeback of oversized coats and combat boots, though I’m not sure that was intentional. Sure, the film thought the inside of a computer looked like a rave held inside a skyscraper made of circuit boards, but hell, that only adds to its charm.

You may ask “Why does it matter 30 Years later?”. Why? Because the message hasn’t aged a day.

We still need people who question. We still need people who explore. We still need people who refuse to accept “that’s just how it is.” We still need digital rebels with a conscience. And that’s what Hackers celebrated: the idea that knowledge is power, and curiosity is a virtue, not a crime. It told a generation of young tech‑minded misfits that they weren’t alone. That their skills mattered. That they could be the heroes of their own story. And for many, that was life‑changing.

So Here’s to 30 Years of Hackers

To the rollerblades. To the neon. To the soundtrack that still slaps. To the keyboards that clicked like machine guns. To the film that made hacking look like a cross between a nightclub and a spiritual awakening. But most of all:

Here’s to the idea that the ones who understand the system best are often the ones who protect it.

Hack the Planet, my friends. Thirty years on, the message still holds.

Happy Friday the 13th, my brave and foolish friends.

Feb 13, 2026 |

As tradition demands, it’s time for the annual reminder of the official survival rules, because nothing says “I value my life” like refusing to behave like a horror‑movie extra.

So, for those wishing to make it safely to Saturday the 14th, please observe the following:

  • ❌ Don’t go swimming. Lakes, rivers, ponds… if it’s wet, avoid it.
  • ❌ Don’t have sex. Horror‑movie law. I don’t make the rules.
  • ❌ Don’t smoke. The killer can smell irresponsibility.
  • ❌ Don’t drink. Yes, I know, tragic!!.
  • ❌ Don’t go out. The outside world is where the plot happens.
  • ❌ Don’t split up. Ever. Even to “just check something.”
  • ❌ Don’t run from the killer. They have Olympic‑level cardio.
  • ❌ If you trip, get up immediately. Don’t lie there screaming like a Victorian fainting goat.

And above all, for the love of God… TURN ON THE LIGHT before entering any room. Darkness is where the soundtrack gets ominous.

Follow these simple guidelines and you might just survive the day without being chased by a masked man with questionable hobbies.

Stay safe, stay sensible, and for the love of all that is holy… don’t investigate strange noises.