Babylon
I went out in Cardiff on Saturday night. Unless you have grown up in this city - or are a frequent visitor - its quite difficult to get across what it's like in the town centre after a rugby international. I remember it as a kid - walking up queen street on a Saturday afternoon in February and every other person was wearing a kilt a seemed unable to walk. This week england were the visitors and the old enemy got well beaten. For a few minutes around 3pm I was going to the game. I got a call from a friend saying he had met a guy on the bus with a spare ticket - did I want it? I did - but about two dozen missed calls later the ticket was gone so I took my coat off and settled back in front of the telly.

I got the train into town after the game - forlornly trying to find out from my friend where he was drinking. I eventually made contact at the station and headed off through the throng that is St Mary's street. After the match the main street in cardiff is closed to traffic and is open to all sorts of human traffic mostly wearing red and in an advanced stage of anebriation. When I reached the arranged pub there was a massive queue outside and a voicemail which I could barely pick up saying they had given up and gone to the Cardiff Rugby Club bar.

I eventually found them in a courtyard where the whole population of the south wales valleys and their wives/ mothers were watching a live band playing enthusiastic Sterephonics and Manics covers (with the odd Status Que thrown in). I was handed a (very) cold can of magners and decided to put one of my gloves on to drink it. The best part of this bit of the evening was noticing the mens loos on the top floor of the car where you could see a row of blokes standing at the urinals from the windows dancing with their hands to the Fratellis Chelsea Dagger.

Zoom forward a few hours and a few more pints and I find myself in a club I believe may be called Kiwis. I wont bore you with the details but here's the wash hand basin in the loo.
















Zoom forward a few more hours and a few more pints and the traditional trip down caroline street for the early hours chipped potato afficionado. This was the street. It took me ages to clean my shoes the next day.

I went on a Speed Choice course on thursday. It was that or get 3 points on my licence so i jumped at it. I was a bit fed up about having to take the afternoon off work and I expected it to be boring. This impression was confirmed when the two geeky blokes who were running it - Mick and Gordon - handed out our name stickers and fiddled with their powerpoint projector. Even though they were a bit irritating and cliched - they managed to cram loads of useful stuff into the three hour session. It reminded of what bollocks a lot of the training I go to at work is - wasting time with brainstorms and flip-chart paper; long breaks and lunches; trainers trying to be your mate by letting you go early - while its them whose getting away with a six hour day.

Before going on the course I had felt a little powerless about my ability to stay below the speed limit on a reguilar basis. Its not that I'm some top gear watching speed king - its just that I'm easily distracted and can never remember where speed cameras are. Similarly - I felt powerless about my ability not to cause an accident one day. This is particularly poignant as my partners son nearly died last year when hit by a car.

The course not only drove (sic) home the difference a few extra mph can make, it also gave some handy hints for being a safer driver e.g. drive in 3rd gear in most 30mph zones. I have been trying this out and it makes it much easier to stick to 30. The one i failed to stick to was the thing about alcohol being in your system the next day. I went out this morning at 11 when I might have been over the limit until about 6pm. Got away with it this time though.