Monday, September 12, 2005

Welcome To My Country

When I was young, I always wanted to work in a foreign country. I just never dreamed it would be Wales.

I decided to make a grand entrance, wearing my suit. Of course, there was the small matter of the backpack with all my worldly possessions. And my bicycle. But my flat was only a few minutes from the station. What could go wrong?

Everything. After two hours of pedalling around I realised that:
a) My flat wasn't in the centre of town.
b) There were no keys for me at the stage door of Cardiff Millennium Opera House.
c) I had nowhere to sleep.
d) My suit looked like a crumpled rag, I was covered in sweat, and about to pass out.

The solution to all this, naturally, was to book into A Very Nice Hotel. And, within half an hour, I was stood in a passing Gay Mardi Gras, belting out "You'll Never Walk Alone", surrounded by young gay men with the right kind of "rugby build". Good.

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