Play Hard!

When I eventually found a parking space near the museum, in front of the old part of the University, I clumped my way towards the intimidating flight of steps topped by the stout columns behind which the unrelenting stone of the façade was enlivened by a studded bronze door – which was firmly closed.

Mondays are not the days which you use to visit our National Museum.  I clumped my way back to the car and was relieved to see that I had not been clamped as I had blithely assumed that parking such a distance from the Museum would have to be free.  I had not noticed the elegantly spaced payment machines and the discrete signs warning any drivers that payment was essential to park in these isolated positions.

Although culture was denied, it did allow me to progress seamlessly to the centre of the city to indulge in a little light shopping.  My aim was to find a shop in the Capital City of Wales which might be able to provide me with a copy of some of the ballet music from Gretry’s oeuvre as I though that appropriate music by which to dine.  What I hadn’t realized was that the email to me asking me to bring along such music was also supposed to extend to the other people attending the dinner at Ceri and Dianne’s house.

No CDs were to be had, even for ready money and I had cause to bemoan the closure of the Virgin Superstore and the small but select Classical Music Department hidden away from the vulgarity of all those styles of which I know nothing.  I can imagine “Lounge” or “Kitchen” or “Parlour” or even “Bathroom” music – but I do draw the line at “Garage” and other musics appertaining to extraneous parts of a dwelling.

I did, for old times’ sake, buy a few things from the shop that was taking up the premises of the old Virgin Store – and so began the inevitable slide into the wanton distribution of liquid assets to those around me.

As it is a hard and fast tradition with me to buy a new watch every time I go on holiday I was strangely drawn towards all shop windows (and there were many) which made a feature of beguiling displays of timepieces.

Suffice to say that a combination of classical severity of design with the impetus of a half price offer soon made me part with far more money that I had really intended and sport a new watch on my wrist.  Of the six essentials that I need for the perfect watch, the new one had five so I was satisfied – and it is a damn sight lighter than its predecessor.

By this point in my progress through the fantasia of shopping centres that make up the centre of the city I had bags within bags within bags: the sign of a real shopper.

I do feel it is a clear and potent sign of the coming Armageddon and the Fall of Civilization as we know it that you can get your feet nibbled by voracious fish for a tenner in a quite ordinary shopping arcade.

As I seem to grow hard skin as easily as other people misspell “Charades” I felt that it would be no more than an act of gastronomic kindness to let the finny fangs of famished fish feast on my feet – especially the heels.

It was a strangely unsettling feeling to have ones ankles begird with a fringe of chomping exclamation marks making me look like a sort of Piscean Morris Dancer!

The tickling sensation was not unpleasant, but neither was is calming and, at the end of the session I observed that it wasn’t particularly effective either.

As I was having culture denial symptoms I decided to visit the fairly newly opened Cardiff Experience Centre which gave a kids-orientated but still fascinating glimpse at aspects of the city.  This exhibition utilizes part of the old Central Library building and takes my oft-stated idea that the whole of the Central Library should be turned into a “taster” annexe of the National Museum of Wales a step further to realization.

By the end of my meander through the exhibits here it was time for lunch and I ventured under Saint David’s Hall to have the two-course lunch for just under a tenner.  This was excellent value and its quantity made me wonder if I had overdone it considering that I was going out to dinner in some six hours.

I managed to go for a swim in the Eastern Leisure Centre where I had swum every day before school before I deserted it for the more refined setting of the David Lloyd Centre.

Refreshed and exhausted by my swim I felt ready to go to dinner.

Which was wonderful. 

The creamy yet surprisingly light prawn soup was followed by a spectacular marinated lamb (which melted in the mouth) with couscous and piquant vegetables.  The sweet was a chocolate roulade with fruit and cream which was light yet did not deny the calorie-laden delight which made it so tasty.

Food is only one part of a good dinner so it was the conversation and company which provided the extra ingredient which made it memorable!

And so to bed replete and happy.