Weekend

Why is it that, whenever I go to Cardiff, something big is happening? And no, it's nothing to do with me. I've just been there for girly time with Daughter and friends.

I blame Cardiff Millenium Stadium, which is the grand new-ish sporting venue, but they use it for all sorts of big events too. When the new Wembley Stadium was being built, and took a lot longer than it should have done, the big football matches took place at the Millenium Stadium instead. (This led to a few embarrassed English officials and a lot of Welshmen laughing themselves helpless.) Cardiff is doing its best to attract cultural events, too, and turning out to be pretty good at it.

Well, they didn't ask me, did they? I was there this weekend and it turned out it was Speedway weekend. Don't ask me what that means, I haven't a clue - except it means streets being closed to traffic, flags everywhere, and those horrible vuvuzelas in the street. And NOISE! It also means that you can't get a decent hotel room at a reasonable price. Not the first time this has happened to me. A few years ago, for example, I was in Cardiff to hear Daughter play the flute. The rest of the world was there to hear some mega-band play at the Stadium. It's enough to turn me into a grumpy old bat. Oops, I already am.

Note to Daughter and her Chap - whatever your career plans are, abandon them now and run a quiet little B and B on the outskirts of Cardiff. It must have a garden, because I hardly saw a blade of grass for two days and I was getting withdrawal symptoms. You will charge reasonable rates and only take sweet young families, quiet polite people, grumpy old bats, and nuns. Thank you, or as they say in Welsh, diolch.