In Caerdydd
Apr. 8th, 2022 02:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
millionreasonsWe went abroad! To the nearest country (Wales). The 6Music Festival/Gwyll was taking place and we took our place in it, staying in a B&B in Pontcanna, the Islington of Cardiff: all leafy streets, pastel coloured cottages, brunch places and portals to other realms:
We also visited a vermouth bar, a Tiny Rebel pub in what used to be a redbrick treasury vault, an outdoor drinking/eating venue in what was once a light industrial estate, which was very Londony but without the hundreds of braying people or hyperactive kids, and Corp - an old pub, now co-operative crafty/food/things small businesses. We walked through the park, over the Taf, and past the castle, to Club Ifor Bach to see Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard, who are what would happen if Status Quo and Queen had a quite ugly child.
Sunday, we took a cheap but untimely train to Penarth, staffed by an overly bantery conductress who insisted that we sing her a song (we demurred). This was preferable to my last visit to Cardiff circa 1993 when someone spat at me in the street.
Penarth is an upright Victorian seaside town with a slight pier and a chip shop and a shit load of hills that we walked up and down to get to the Barrage (reclaimed land/walkway/docks) through Cardiff Bay, back into the city where we found Ianto's shrine. Some twenty somethings walked past, one explaining it to the other "but it was a long time ago". On the way, we spotted the Scott memorial/museum, the Norwegian church where Roald Dahl was christened, a large fiberglass crocodile which has its own twitter account so you can read its thoughts on the geopolitical situation, the old customs house, and the Millennium Centre, which, unlike the Dome in Greenwich, doesn't seem to have moved from building- with-stuff-in-it to concert hall (yet).
At the festival were Wet Leg who played the hits and made it clear that their album is out on Friday. I walked through the humanitarian corridor at the back of the packed gig to the bar where I could see that the drinks prices are in tiers - students (£3 a pint), private parties (£4) and the rest of us (£5). I found a table to sit on at the back of the room where Huw Stephens and Cerys Matthews were doing their bits to mic. I wanted to ask Cerys if she still wakes up every day and thanks the lord she's Welsh, but it seemed a bit tacky. However, I did come to the conclusion that no word in Welsh would look out of place in a H.P Lovecraft story. March is Mawrth - that's a two headed succubus if ever I saw one. I wouldn't be surprised if Cthulhu actually meant cottage, or something. Also, the local beer is called Brains, which must bring all the zombies to the yard.
Then it was Self Esteem, who are full of it. Esteem that is. When I saw them previously, i thought Self Esteem was the band, an indie All Saints, but it was quite quite clear who the star is. Rebecca's backing singers are now her beyatches, shimmying up to and rubbing themselves against her, prancing around the queen bee. Last time we saw her, she was in black jeans and a crop top, this time it was a leotard and diaphanous skirt, like a white Lizzo. She was great though, and I Do This All The Time was amazing and moving. A manifesto for modern womanhood. We were going to stay to watch Johnny Marr, but after the long walk back from Penarth, all I want to do is sit down in a pub - which we duly did and where the barman said: "Johnny Marr, he's a country singer, isn't he?"
Monday, a lot of Cardiff is shut so we spent a long time drinking coffee in the rather good Hard Lines Coffee Shop and Diner, as well as wandering around the market and buying Welsh cakes (40p each!) and a rather more expensive cup of tea in a fancypants tea shop in the High Street Arcade. Cardiff city centre is rather dull, dominated by a large shopping centre and a lot of the shops have turned into Five Guys type eateries, but the Victorian arcades are lovely, filled with small shops or cafes. We passed the Owain Glyndwr pub, outside of which Dave claimed that he's a son of Kinnock.
And then it's back to Llundain.
We also visited a vermouth bar, a Tiny Rebel pub in what used to be a redbrick treasury vault, an outdoor drinking/eating venue in what was once a light industrial estate, which was very Londony but without the hundreds of braying people or hyperactive kids, and Corp - an old pub, now co-operative crafty/food/things small businesses. We walked through the park, over the Taf, and past the castle, to Club Ifor Bach to see Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard, who are what would happen if Status Quo and Queen had a quite ugly child.
Sunday, we took a cheap but untimely train to Penarth, staffed by an overly bantery conductress who insisted that we sing her a song (we demurred). This was preferable to my last visit to Cardiff circa 1993 when someone spat at me in the street.
Penarth is an upright Victorian seaside town with a slight pier and a chip shop and a shit load of hills that we walked up and down to get to the Barrage (reclaimed land/walkway/docks) through Cardiff Bay, back into the city where we found Ianto's shrine. Some twenty somethings walked past, one explaining it to the other "but it was a long time ago". On the way, we spotted the Scott memorial/museum, the Norwegian church where Roald Dahl was christened, a large fiberglass crocodile which has its own twitter account so you can read its thoughts on the geopolitical situation, the old customs house, and the Millennium Centre, which, unlike the Dome in Greenwich, doesn't seem to have moved from building- with-stuff-in-it to concert hall (yet).
At the festival were Wet Leg who played the hits and made it clear that their album is out on Friday. I walked through the humanitarian corridor at the back of the packed gig to the bar where I could see that the drinks prices are in tiers - students (£3 a pint), private parties (£4) and the rest of us (£5). I found a table to sit on at the back of the room where Huw Stephens and Cerys Matthews were doing their bits to mic. I wanted to ask Cerys if she still wakes up every day and thanks the lord she's Welsh, but it seemed a bit tacky. However, I did come to the conclusion that no word in Welsh would look out of place in a H.P Lovecraft story. March is Mawrth - that's a two headed succubus if ever I saw one. I wouldn't be surprised if Cthulhu actually meant cottage, or something. Also, the local beer is called Brains, which must bring all the zombies to the yard.
Then it was Self Esteem, who are full of it. Esteem that is. When I saw them previously, i thought Self Esteem was the band, an indie All Saints, but it was quite quite clear who the star is. Rebecca's backing singers are now her beyatches, shimmying up to and rubbing themselves against her, prancing around the queen bee. Last time we saw her, she was in black jeans and a crop top, this time it was a leotard and diaphanous skirt, like a white Lizzo. She was great though, and I Do This All The Time was amazing and moving. A manifesto for modern womanhood. We were going to stay to watch Johnny Marr, but after the long walk back from Penarth, all I want to do is sit down in a pub - which we duly did and where the barman said: "Johnny Marr, he's a country singer, isn't he?"
Monday, a lot of Cardiff is shut so we spent a long time drinking coffee in the rather good Hard Lines Coffee Shop and Diner, as well as wandering around the market and buying Welsh cakes (40p each!) and a rather more expensive cup of tea in a fancypants tea shop in the High Street Arcade. Cardiff city centre is rather dull, dominated by a large shopping centre and a lot of the shops have turned into Five Guys type eateries, but the Victorian arcades are lovely, filled with small shops or cafes. We passed the Owain Glyndwr pub, outside of which Dave claimed that he's a son of Kinnock.
And then it's back to Llundain.
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no subject
Date: 2022-05-03 07:39 pm (UTC)Last festival I attended in the UK was Cerys Matthews one in Wales. Small and country-flavoured, and not especially kind to vegetarians, but nice.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-03 07:48 pm (UTC)We stood a couple of metres from Cerys, she's quite tiny.