Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Slacking off

Ok I've been really slack with the blogging. To be honest I've been so busy during the day and so knackered at night that it's just got away from me a bit.

So what's been happening. Well I went back to Cardiff for the day to see how my old uni town was faring (I Think this is the source of the confusion that I might be welsh, I'm not, I just lived there for a while). It didn't get off to a great start as the train system here is a bit of a shambles. The train I got on was already thirty minutes late at Lydney, but I didn't realise this as it was so late it appeared to be the next train arriving a minute early. Not a problem I hear you say...oh but no! Because it was so late it decided to terminate at Newport, 15 minutes short of Cardiff. Why? Apparently this makes the statistics the train companies give about on time running appear better as, you know it wasn't actually late in Cardiff was it? It just never got there. Anyway we all get off and wait on the platform for the next train to Cardiff central, arriving platform 2. Oh no actually it's platform 1. Off we all traipse, up the steps over the bridge to platform 2. Sorry ladies and gentlemen it's platform 3 now so you better get your asses back over that bridge as the train is leaving in about 30 seconds! Bloody British Rail (except of course it's not BR anymore, it's about a million different companies, the one running my train was DB, the German State Rail company, who seem to do a much better job in the Fatherland). It was also at this time I discovered a new definition of "on time". For the train companies this seems to mean any time within fifteen minutes of the scheduled departure. I'll have to remember that when my patients complain that I'm running late. Needless to say I was a bit pissed off when I got to Caerdydd so I filled in the complain form to get a refund, which rather brilliantly requires you to attach your ticket. Which has been kept by the platform barrier on arrival. What a handy little trick. I'll know next time though to go through the barrier with a little man if I want a refund.

Cardiff has changed beyond all recognition since I was there last, and totally since I lived there, millions of pounds has been spent on the city centre. There are more shops that you can shake a stick at now, I mean they are all the same chains that are everywhere but there's lots of them. My favourite was the Lego store where you can buy bricks like pic'n'mix. Brilliant! I didn't do it but I was tempted. It does appear though that the council has only actually spent the money in one or two limited parts of town. When I had a stroll round to my old house in the student suburbs it was lime being in a post-apocalyptic future. Broken down properties, rubbish in the streets and sickly looking kids and locals (mind you they always look lime that do students). It was a bit of a shock. Obviously the money is only to make the city nice and sparkly for the visitors and people who can afford a city flat, the rest just have to get stuffed. It was a bit surreal and sort of freaked me out, but my iPod seemed to be psychic when I was walking round, playing lots of music from the nineties, even clicking over to Iron Maiden when I got to the old digs. It was almost as if A and J were there in spirit with their slightly tragic metal. Of course it could just be that I'm old and have lots of crappy nineties music on my iPod. Who knows.

I did notice one worrying trend in Cardiff and that was the return of the elasticated trouser leg cuff. Even on jeans. I suppose it's a logical progression as pants get tighter and skinnier that this horror would make a comeback. It's not a good look but so far seems to be limited to Cardiff. Sometimes a town can be too fashion forward.

Some pics (which seems to be the new format on here)

The Cottage, poorly name for an old man pub:




Cardiff Castle, which I have still never been in:




A subtle new building, the place is full of these:




John Lewis, looks like a happy-clappy christian cathedral:




Nye Bevan, father of the NHS (Currently spinning in his grave):




The old homestead, "Colin" to his friends:




And just to prove Welsh is indecipherable, guess what that means?:






No comments:

Post a Comment