The Tour of Wales

The last 5 days have been pretty immense. I'd been looking forward to this bank holiday weekend, dubbed by myself as the 'Tour of Wales', as it incorporated event after event, all as fun-filled as the last. I was really looking forward to it.

It all started on Thursday, as I caught the train from Bedford to London St.Pancras to London Paddington and finally to Cardiff Central. I arrived in the capital of Cymru at roughly 2.45pm, and had some serious waiting to do. Sister Mitten, firmly established in her new job, was due to finish work at 5, so I merely wandered around the city centre, looking a little like a lost hobo with my travelling bag, and set about entertaining myself. I went for a poorly made baguette, had a look in Coral before deciding that I didn't want to blow any money early doors, and even stood and chatted to a street fundraiser for 15 minutes before, finally, Sister Mitten emerged. We went to the Harvester, (paid for by me!), before I got to see her new abode and her flatmates, all of which were nice enough, watched Waterloo Road with a large bar of Dairy Milk and crashed for the night. It had been a long day and it was going to be an eventful weekend! One has to pace oneself...

On Friday morning, I awoke at 8.30am, just as Sister Mitten was leaving for the final day of her working week, and made my way towards the first instalment of the cricketing weekend! Mr.Field had very kindly offered me a free ticket to the England vs South Africa ODI at the SWALEC Stadium, situated just behind the much larger Millenium Stadium in the city. Things didn't really go to plan however... The match was due to start at 10.30am, and just as we thought we were going to get lucky with the weather, it started "raining"...

Now. I've put the word "raining", in speech marks, because in all honesty, you couldn't call it rain. It was the lightest of light showers imaginable, literally a few spots here and there and to say you couldn't play in it was ludicrous. At 10.15am, the ground staff covered the entire pitch with the covers and when the "rain" stopped completely, they proceeded to take 45 minutes to slowly but surely take them off again. However, after getting two-thirds of the way through the process, another spot of rain splashed on to the ground, and the ENTIRE set of pitch covers was put back on. It was infuriating. There was no way in Hell the ground was "unsafe for players", and to have 5 hours of playing hokey-cokey with the pitch covers was just plain ridiculous.

At half-past 2, 4 hours after the scheduled start time, we gave up. The forecast was set to get worse towards the evening and if they hadn't started now, they never would. We begrudgingly made our way towards the same city centre I was walking circles around the day before, and Ash decided that he wanted to put an accumulator on for the following day's football. As we walked into a Coral shop, we saw the cricket on the TV with a small banner saying 'Start time: 3pm". "You've got to be kidding me?!", I thought, as we made the swift decision to get a cab back to the SWALEC and get back into the ground.

Sure enough, at 3pm, finally, the players walked down the steps and on to the ground. It was due to be a 24-overs a side game, and I was relieved. Once they were out, they weren't going back in! Except... that wasn't really the case. Morne Morkel bowled one ball... 1 BALL... before one of the umpires must have felt a small raindrop hit him on the shoulder, as, to the rage of the crowd, they called the players in again. 5 minutes later, however, they were back out and managed to get through 5 whole overs (hurrah!), before it really did start raining quite heavily, and the match was finally abandoned.

We were majorly screwed over by the ICC umpires and SWALEC ground staff that day. How protective can you be of cricket players??! My full rant is on Twitter, check it out!

To put that disappointment behind us, myself and Mr.Field decided to see what Cardiff had to offer when it came to night life. I had never been out in Cardiff before, (I never went out on the occasion of my Sister's graduation!) so I was intrigued. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where the description of the night ends. What happened in Cardiff on Friday night, stays in Cardiff on Friday night!

On to Saturday and arguably the main event. After saying goodbye to Sister Mitten, Mr.Field and I headed back to the SWALEC for Part 2 of the cricketing weekend. Along with the ODI tickets, Mr.Field had also given me a free ticket to the biggest date on the domestic cricket calendar, Twenty20 Finals Day! The excitement was off the scale, and with the weather forecast set to 'Australian', there was little risk of repeating the fiasco of the day before. Amazingly enough though, there were a couple of heavy showers, but unlike the international players, the domestic players merely played on. Clearly made of sterner stuff! Everything from the three enthralling cricket matches, to the hilarious mascot race in the interval and the banter and the atmosphere created by the crowd, the whole day was a resounding success. Yorkshire surprisingly beat Sussex in the first semi-final, to the delight of the vast Yorkshire contingent and Hampshire continued their dominance over Somerset in the second semi-final, before the final took place as the night sky drew closer. It was a tantalising affair, but when Yorkshire came out to chase Hampshire's score of 150, they just couldn't get going. It looked to be drawing to a tame finish and a comfortable win for Hampshire, before one David Miller, South African, went beserk. Six after Six, the crowd went mental, and all of a sudden, Yorkshire had a chance. Ultimately, they came up short, but the entertainment and tension was astounding. Hampshire probably deserved the title, their 2nd in 3 years.

We got the train home, which was absolutely packed, and it culminated in a young chap, who was on his way to Bridgend of all places, to celebrate his 18th birthday accidentally spill a bottle of Smirnoff Ice on my bag. I was largely tired, and not that fussed in all honesty, so amongst his drunken Welsh apologies, I merely waved it away and told him to carry on enjoying his birthday. At least it was a drink, and not vomit. A lot of people end up being sick on their 18th... Don't know anyone personally though... Ahem...

Sunday. Now, Sunday morning was a disappointment. I had had a good kip, roughly 8 hours which for this weekend was a majestic lie-in, but I woke up with a horrific headache. I had caught the Sun the day before, completely underestimating the power of it, and knew I had gone a bit red, but I honestly thought I had woken up and become a tomato. I was supposed to be joining Ash in a charity cricket match, but opted out, choosing to rest and recover in time for the "closing ceremony" that night! Never mind. I'm getting on now, I can't carry on doing event after event for very long! Haha!

Sunday night came round surprisingly fast, and after a game of Corridor Cricket, which I was pretty useless at, we got ready and went out into Swansea. First of all, we went to the casino though, which is a first for me, and after about an hour of roulette, I came out with the exact amount I went in with! Can't complain, and it was a lot of fun! We then made our way into the centre.

It was very different to most other places I've been out in. All the bars and clubs were on one long road, cut off from traffic, it was almost like a mini-strip, like the Ibiza or Kavos of Wales. On first glance, it looked as if it was going to be amazing, but as we made our way from bar to bar, just so I could see a bit of everything, I soon figured out what was wrong. There were way too many "lads" out. Not in a, "too many guys and not enough girls", sort of way. I mean, "lads" as in "banter" filled guys, with low cut t-shirts, walking about saying "Reem" and commenting on every single girl that walked past, claiming they'd "smash their back doors in", Keith Lemon style. It reminded me very much of my brief uni days, and all of a sudden, I realised I didn't like it very much at all. I have always believed, it is the people who you are with, and around you, makes the night, rather than the location. Ash was good fun, as he introduced me to his fellow colleagues and promo guys and girls, but the vast majority of other people out and about were my idea of failed human beings.

An example of this being in a place called Peppermint Bar. It wasn't that busy, we were standing against a pillar, merely chatting, having a drink, plenty of space around us, when a "lad" simply comes round the corner and bumps me in the shoulder, before looking round as if I had intentionally walked in his way. There was about 5 metres of space he could of walked through, but he chose to shoulder charge me instead. This wasn't a one-off either. I was being bumped and charged and walked into practically everywhere I went and after a while, it just got tiresome. This coupled with the fact that people from Swansea clearly had no regard for the concept of queuing, and I was somehow burnt by some girl's fag end as she attempted to hug a friend, (narrowly missing giving me a right hook). I did wonder what the hell some of these Welsh were playing at.

After a while, after a comical episode where some bloke bought us a drink to "get us out of the way", I got mightily fed up and decided that we call it a night. We did have to be awake in 6 hours to catch the train home aswell, and this thought had never really left my head the whole night. It hadn't ruined the weekend by any stretch of the imagination, but I was left a little disappointed by my Swansea night life experience.

A very good 9 out of 10 for my weekend in Wales then. Let down majorly by over-protective cricket umpires, and maybe I just caught Swansea on a bad night? Or maybe Swansea caught me on a bad night? Who knows. But all in all, it was largely successful!

Hwyl fawr Cymru!


P.S I forgot to tell you a truly brilliant story that occured on the train journey to Cardiff on Thursday. There was a young lad, about 17-18 years of age I'd say, who was on the train with his family, apparently on his way to Swansea for some sort of family visit. Just before the stop for Reading however, he announced he was going to the toilet. I thought nothing of it, continuing to browse my Twitter timeline. 15 minutes later though, the Father asked where he was. He had not returned. I was keeping half an eye on the situation, as maybe something had happened to him. As the Father rang him though, it became apparent what had happened. The young man had "gone to the toilet", just before the stop at Reading, but had instead got OFF THE TRAIN at Reading and gone to the Reading Festival with his mates! HA! His Dad was absolutely furious, but fair play to the guy to have the guts to do that. I can only imagine what he must be feeling right now, as he returns home to the fury of his family. Was certainly a funny story to start the weekend with!