journal for 2002-10-12


Today was a nice, mostly chilled-out day.

Matt had bought some sausages on Sunday and opened the packages on Thursday. By today, the fridge really stank of sausages. The smell wasn’t bad, but it was strong, and if you’re going into the fridge for an apple, the stink of sausages isn’t exactly right. So, for breakfast we took all the remaining sausages and fried them up. There were eight sausages: four beef, four pork (I think). I fried them, fried some eggs, and we had four sausage-and-egg sammiches. Wuh. I was fully full. Neither of us finished our breakfast, and we stayed away from further food until about five.

Between those meals, we headed into town. Matt got a haircut and I wandered around and looked at things. I got some pictures of the (relatively huge) Cardiff stadium and I got a picture of the Hedgehog shirt in front of Cardiff Castle. I’ve seen some signs around with a guy holding a protest sign that reads, “SAVE THE HEDGEHOG,” but I haven’t been able to find one when I was on foot with the camera. I got a few more car pictures, but I still haven’t managed to get one of the Fiat Multipla, despite a few sightings. I wouldn’t mind some better pictures of a Smart, either.

Around 1630, we went back to Matt’s and had some bachelor food: prepared chicken cutlets and some frozen french fries, aka “chips.” I had some brown sauce on my chips. This brand, HP, wasn’t as appley as the one I’d had at the Wharf, and it was pretty good (so was the other one). It reminded me a lot of L&P.

Matt wanted to take a nap, but by the time he’d showered, made the bed, and whatever else he needed to do, he wasn’t down for that anymore. Anyway, it was nearly time to head back out to meet Benno and another of Matt’s friends, Dave. We went to a pub downtown and had a few Harps and watched Slovakia v England. England won. After that, we got a cider at a pretty busy, loud club a block or two away. Matt was trying to convince me to go to drum and bass night at a local club, and I was semi-receptive, but the drum and bass wasn’t going to start for another 2-3 hours and I was tired. Also, there was a £5 cover. We decided to head home, which was a good idea. We were both tired, and any more beers would’ve been too many, at least for me and probably for Matt, too.

Around town, we ran into several people Matt knew, and he didn’t introduce me, which was a little weird. I’m not jonsing to make friends with lots of Cardiffites, but it’s awkward to stand around for five minutes, effectively constrained, by manners, from even making eye contact.

Also, people here don’t seem to bless each other when they sneeze. Weird! Then there’s the whole weird way of ordering food at a pub. I’m pretty sure, by now, that I just wouldn’t want to live here. It’s not like I had been considering it, but now I have no reason to. The little differences add up, the wages are low, and the prices are high.

On the way home from Cardiff, we stopped at a questionable little hole in the wall where they served fish, chips, burgers, and other stuff. I got a mediocre cheeseburger for £2.25, which is like 3.50 USD. I guess you might find that in NYC, too, but I think that it’s a little dubious. A cheeseburger is a two dollar item, tops. So, if anyone says, “Would you consider living in Wales?” I will answer, “No, the cheeseburgers are too expensive.”

Written on October 12, 2002