Cardiff is Madness

I arrived at the airport and got a cab to get into town; the cab driver was lovely and remembered me from my last visit. Then he proceeded to use his mobile phone with one hand and drive with the other, surely if he recalled me he would know I was a cranky confrontational bitch!

“Mate, if wanted to be in a car with a man driving dangerously with one hand, I would get an unlicensed rape taxi, so quit with the mobile and put both hands on the wheel please, that’s what I am paying for” I snapped. He called me something nasty in Welsh, I think? Is ‘moaney Cuntish person’ a Welsh saying? I don’t know…

On entering the Marriot Hotel, I spotted the lovely comic Bennet Aaron, he looked worried. He had good reason, seems our hotel booking from Jongleurs had gone suspiciously missing and we were now homeless. Do bear in mind that NZ are playing Wales at rugby and Cardiff town is like Bethlehem… no room at the inn.

So after much hand wringing and lying through their teeth, we were told the rooms were booked wrongly! Who knows? Bennet called Jongleurs and we are moved to the Future Inn (which doesn’t have space capsules, which quite frankly means the name is not befitting my idea of the future, I want a robot in my room that can wash my pants).

Anyway I am now in this hotel, the internet isn’t expensive but it is far away from the gig and I am pissed off. That will be another expensive cab journey to work! Arrrggghhh!

The good news is that this hotel has a digital juke box in the room and I am chilled listening to Crosby-Stills & Nash…not cool I know but I am old.

I do love Cardiff and I do love the job, but I hate all the shit that goes with it.