Despatches from Cymru

I find myself in Cardiff on some kind of spontaneous self-dare. I will be here for the next 2 nights. What follows are my honest, unflinching reactions to the cultural melée currently swaddling me.

Language – When in Wales for the first time, I find it advantageous to ask coach drivers with troublesome accents to repeat what they say, at all times. Failure to do so may result in alighting at Newport by mistake, so I’ve been told.

Cuisine – Lamb Cawl is a native Welsh dish, and is best served hotter than the surface of the sun. If I was to speak right now, it would thound like thith due to my burnt tongue. It is a lamb stew with winter vegetables, most appropriate for this time of year. A wedge of cheese is served on the side. I have no idea what to do with this cheese. Politely asking it how it should be eaten rarely produces satisfying serving suggestions, so I ultimately dunk it in my vodka and coke, impressing no-one.

Fashion – Gola bags are highly popular with the childfolk/young adultfolk. I observed with some astonishment a young boy animatedly gesticulating and shouting in triumph upon seeing one bearing a Dr Who design. I myself have owned a Gola bag for two years. I may return here in 2012 and warn the people of an enigmatic killer named Raoul Moat.


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