Wednesday, September 13, 2006


  • With the child bride trapped in a sort of unemployment stasis, she has taken to staring at shop windows to see if they are hiring. It's like we are in some sort of EastEnders episode and soon the local affable crime boss is going to offer her ridiculous pay to "deliver a few packages," the contents of which she has no idea*. Then she will end up in prison and I will be forced to live underground in the Welsh-language community, surviving on my wits and constantly calling in "favours" that various Welshies owe me without any sort of explanation as to what I ever did for them.
    Or, not.
    Still, life has an odd feel to it these days.

  • I finally set foot in the National Museum today.
    The museum is located in the far north of Cardiff's city centre in one of those white Britishy buildings that tourists fall over themselves to take pictures of. Out of Cardiff's annual 34 tourists (their names are printed in the Echo and we are encouraged to say hello to them and suggest they purchase some fine Welsh tat: "Do you have any nieces or nephews? I'm sure they would love one of these delightful cartoonish plush toy dragons. Yep, that's what we're all about -- cartoonish dragons and inflatable daffodils."), I would suspect all of them take pictures of the museum but only two can correctly identify it when they get back home.
    I don't know how long I'll be living here, but I have a very strong desire to make Cardiff my own -- to feel that I am an organic part of the city. I want to feel that I really know this place in and out. I want to be like those old men on the buses who can tell you something about almost every building. So, the museum is essential.
    Unfortunately, I had failed to look at my watch when I decided to visit, and I had only 30 minutes. I am happy to report that it was far too large to see in that time -- I only managed to get through one small room. This getting-to-know-Cardiff thing is going to take some time.

  • I also learned today the location of the candy shop Roald Dahl used to frequent in Llandaff. It's a Chinese restaurant now. If you ever come to visit, I'll take you there (I'm really selling this place, aren't I?).

    *The hell? Did the last part of that sentence make sense? I am well and truly past my days as a copy editor.

    mo** said...

    ouh! I love Roald Dahl...I wonder if thats the same candy store that was held by that horrible old woman...what was it they put in the jars? Mice? rats? spiders...I can't remember...

    Chris Cope said...

    That is exactly the same candy store.

    Curly said...

    You already know more than many residents. I've heard many people refer to the museum as "That big white building on the way into town".

    Although I doubt there's a correct way to spell it, I use an 'I' in "Keirdiff". The guy that sells fruit on Queen street can pronounce it, he also says "tangerines" in a funny way.