the river and the trail

The object of the trip was to find a sign with the words "River Taff" and then be happy ever after, but it was not to be. Instead I found not only a River Taff, but also Taffs Trail, Taff St and Taffs Well. I know. I'm an incredibly popular person. Although, I was most unobliged when the street directory didn't yield a Taffy steet or avenue - the outrage! the Welsh have chopped a fifth of my identity off.

Back to the weekend. My fellow Londoners have been banging on about how good the weather was on the weekend as if they have never seen more than 48 hours of continuous good weather.

Gasps and silence.

I must say however, that the trip to Cardiff last weekend was made all the better with the incredible sunlight and the rather friendly Welsh people (although their bus drivers are a bit erratic and drive with the doors open). Upon arrival at Cardiff and looking at the map, my flatmate, Vicki and I made a plan of attack of how we wanted to traverse Cardiff. Within 10 minutes we had passed 6 of the sights (and even stopped by the visitor centre) and found ourselves at the very pretty Cardiff Castle. This was my first castle and it was exciting to take pictures of the flag at the top of the turret and peer into the rather shallow moat. Upon looking at the moat I considered a takeover of the castle, but reconsidered when I deemed the water lillies too pretty to destroy should I attempt to slosh through in the muddy, algae-infested, mosquito-breeding waters.

Vicki's several attempts at taking self-shots of the castle in the background was met by my derision when I walked to the best vantage point, faced the camera and shot myself (ah, the joys of the English language). Perfect. Castle in background, no huge expanse of sky in the background, my face not fuzzy and missing an ear.

We did a tour too. Very interesting, and mind-boggling to think about how much money these horse-and-cart-riding, wine-guzzling, jousting, sword-waving toffs had. At one stage of the tour, the guide pointed out some Australian animals that were carved into the elaborate ceiling and asked whether there were any Aussies in the crowd. Three hands went up. Neither of those hands belonged to blonde, blue-eyed, surfer types but three, short, glasses-wearing, intellectual-type Asians. The silent, astonished blinking at the 3 of us lasted a good 2 seconds before the guide recovered (very well, I might add) and continued on his spiel.

Later that evening we went back to the hotel for a swim (having decided to pay an extra 5 more pounds per person to avoid the cramped hostel) and dinner at the Wharf which was clearly the happening place in town. It was obvious that Melbourne had tried to copy this concept for its own Docklands, but the sheer buzz and noise of the Cardiff nightlife would have made John Batman turn in his grave while the smokers congregated outside on the footpath.

The next day we took the bus to the outskirts of Cardiff to see another castle, which the promotional leaflet said looked more like a castle belonging at Disneyland or Bavaria then in stuffy old Great Britain. It was a very cute castle and would make for a nice place to have your wedding photos taken. Not that I am getting married, but there's a tip for you anyhow.

So it's back to London for now and thinking about where to go next. Last Friday Vicki and I did a tour of the Houses of Parliament which was fantastic (well, for me, given my interest in all things politics). The absolute highlight was actually going into the House of Lords and House of Commons where we were allowed to walk into the benches where the Members of Parliament sat, but not allowed to sit. Strange, but I guess logical as we were technically "strangers in the house". There was a statue of Winston Churchill with a worn-out foot - when Conservative MPs make their maiden speech, they touch Churchill's foot as they enter the Chamber for good luck. I was standing next to a bronze statue of the iron lady herself, Margaret Thatcher, but thought it most discourteous to do anything but nod in reverence at the lifeless hunk of bronze of Britain's first female Prime Minister.

Walking through the Palace of Westminster made me feel a twinge of sadness as I do miss keeping up with the political scene at home, but to compensate I broke my own rules about not spending money at giftshops and bought a House of Commons bookmark and some House of Lords coasters. Yay!

But for now it's back to reading a report on Court referred and court linked mediation under judicial pressure.