"Cardiff Banter Trip 2004: Wales v Norn Iron Part 2" Cardiff Travelogue by DavyDoug

Thursday 9th September 2004

Somehow four of us (Nick, Dave, Mike and me) managed to be up for the exquisite Mrs Austin fry at 8.30. It was the magical 4 piece as before, and really not worth getting up for (controversial). Then back to bed for more much needed sleep.
In the region of 10 o’clock I was re-awoken by somebody shouting. I had a sneaking suspicion it was Mike’s new roommates being discovered by an Austin, but as I was no longer in the room I knew it wasn’t my problem. So when I received a text message from Lester asking if Mrs Austin had caught up with me yet I was a little surprised. Outside the room I could clearly make out the words “DOUGLAS? DOUGLAS? WHERE’S DOUGLAS?” Well this can’t be good, this can’t be good at all. Then there was a knock on the door. Ah ballax. Nick bravely ventured to the door. But, it was only Lester, what a relief.
“Dave, have you seen Mrs…” someone else entering the room interrupted him…
“DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS, WHO’S MR. DOUGLAS??”
“Yeah, that’s me” I replied from my bed.
“I WANT MONEY FROM YOU NOW!”
“Mrs Austin, you and me go way back, I know you’re a rational lady. I’m tired, I’m hung over and I’m currently wearing very little. Any chance you could just **** off please?”
Somehow this actually came out as;
“OK, give me 2 minutes to get up and I’ll be right with you.”

Having the time of our lives in "Prince of Wales"

Quickly I got dressed and went to find Mrs Austin. I didn’t have to go too far as she was standing outside my room talking to Lester. It was here I discovered that Lester’s two mates, who I didn’t even meet, had 8 people staying in their twin room and were also discovered by the Austin’s on departure. It’s fair to say Mrs Austin wasn’t too happy (and I didn’t really blame her at all).
So, after lots of apologising for all the extra guests, and a bit of the Douglas charm, Mrs Austin was very good about it, and just wanted me to settle the bill for the next night in advance. I phoned Mike and told him about the problems, and he paid her extra for his additional guests. I went off into town to get the money and Nick came with me to get some food and drink. We were momentarily tempted for an 11.30 pintage to help get over the mornings stress, but as Mrs A was waiting for her money we thought we’d better hurry back. On our return with the cash Mrs Austin wasn’t about, but Mr Austin was, and he didn’t look too chipper. So, yet more apologising, (I decided it might be best if I didn’t point out to him that none of this was actually my fault and I just happened to book the rooms for everyone) with the Douglas charm less effective on him.
“You’re just taking the p!ss boyo!” (yeah, I added the “boyo” for stereotypical effect)
“Emm, yeah. Sorry? But I do like your leeks and pit ponies though” (again, for stereotypical effect).
This was followed by some more apologising, and I told him I’d try to get some more money from Lester for his extra friends (Which didn’t happen as it turns out, as they refused point blank to pay any. Don’t think I’ll be booking any more rooms for them in the near future).

Well then, after a fun morning of shouting, apologising, giving people money, apologising a bit more, and not sleeping, everyone regrouped and went to get some lunch.
Autopilot kicked in and took us to the nearest Burger King, with he exception of Lester and Dave M who rejected it for something healthier. After my 4 piece fry earlier and the Danish pastry things I had while I was out getting money I wasn’t really that hungry. However, the economic benefits of a double bacon cheeseburger meal over a bog standard single burger were too much to overlook so I was convinced (by Michael, obviously) to eat through the pain barrier.
After lunch we headed round to the Millennium Stadium where Mike tried to get a programme for the match, but was unsuccessful. Lester and Dave joined up with us again and decided they wanted to go on the tour of the stadium (did they not read my last Cardiff diary?). The rest of us decided our afternoon would be spent most productively by going back to the guesthouse for a kip.

Nick, Lester & Dave, naturals in front of a camera

A couple of decent hours kip was actually achieved, then we were up, showered, and ready to go in search for food and drink by 5 o’clock (plus the standard 15 minute lateness factor for Dave M). Big signs offering cheap food and drink always work a treat on us, so we headed into the “Prince of Wales” bar (owner of the biggest/cheapest signs). The food was all right, (Dave disagreeing as he sent his steak back in disgust) nothing special, but it was cheap and so was the drink. Though I couldn’t help but notice Gareth wasn’t eating his greens (anyone who was there will know where this is going…)
“Gareth, I notice you’re not eating your peas there?” I said.
“No, I don’t really like peas” he replied.
“You know, maybe you should give peas a chance” I hilariously joked, sending the whole table into hysterics for 10 to 15 minutes. That’s how I remember it, so that’s how it’ll be recorded, ok?
The place wasn’t busy at all, but the first couple of rounds seemed to take a long while to be bought. When I went up to buy a round, I found out why.
The barman was some big, slow, albeit friendly enough, glazed-over-eyes looking bloke. I initially asked for 6 pints, but then wanted to change it to 5 pints and a bottle. The effort it took to convey this major change in my order to him was huge. Finally I got the message across and he started pulling the pints, spilling a decent amount of every one as he passed them to me. Even more effort was needed to get him to understand that Lester was after a bottle of Budvar. I tried the standard approach of saying it’s name. He blinked at me. I explained the colour of the bottle. More blinking. I even told him what country it was from in my efforts to describe it (like he was going to go “Aaah the Czech one, well why didn’t you say sooner I now completely understand what you’re saying!”) in the end we worked out a system where I just pointed him in the direction and then went “left, left, left, stop. Up, up, up, stop. No, back down a shelf. No, not that one, that’s an alcopop?” But we got there in the end. When I returned to the table it was getting dark.

"Let's all do the Healy!"

We spent the rest of our time there playing the would you rather game, checking out a local landmark upstairs and just generally watching all the freaks that were drinking there (and there were many. The cheap drink does draw the freak).
The next bar we went to was the Australian bar I think? A reasonably big, inoffensive place where Gareth got a bit nostalgic about his time spent down under, so we all went onto the Aussie beer as an empathetic gesture (the fact that they were all stronger was merely coincidental).
Our third venue for the evening, as I remember (which means it is just as likely to be fiction, as it is fact) was the Philharmonic. I assume it’s either some sort of theatre/bar, or it’s a theatre that’s been turned into a bar (I was getting pretty drunk by this stage, so we’ve entered the hazy memory phase)? There was a bit of short lived limbo (makeshift pole made out of straws) but then a Millionaire machine distracted some of us, straying our attentions from the favourite pursuit of Norn Irish banter drunks. I was also briefly interrupted by a phone call from what sounded like a chipmunk on helium, but was in fact Sheila (of Oxegen banter diary fame) phoning from Belfast to let me hear a song from the Complete Stone Roses gig that I was missing. But due to me being in a loud bar all I could hear was her shouting/squeaking indiscriminate noises at me. As it turns out, due to her being at a loud concert all she could hear was me shouting indiscriminate noises at her. So everyone was happy.

The next place we went to was our final stop for the night, and I have absolutely no idea where it was. I think it was a smallish bar and then you went downstairs to the basement and it was a lot bigger? Again, that could be pure rubbish, but it’s how I remember it. I also recall the only beer they sold was Corona, which didn’t impress me much, but I got a round of it anyway and muddled through. Then we spent a good 10 minutes solid taking photos with my camera. My only other memory is of talking to some Welsh bloke about football for ages at the end of the night when I couldn’t find anyone I knew. Then just as I was getting my phone out to ring Mike to see where he was, he instinctively appeared out of nowhere. Apparently everyone else had already left, but nobody had told me.

Earlier, during the day, we had walked past a place called “Kebab King”. We both knew where we were headed. Presumably under Mike’s directional guidance, we managed to find our way there quick enough (granted I think it was only across the street?). We ordered our food, but then couldn’t help but notice a few women behind us in the queue talking about us. It would seem that they completely loved the accent and every time I spoke it was doing stuff to them. Never have I ever witnessed such a positive reaction from a woman to the words “Doner meat on chips please” before. Anyway, more importantly, the meat was different, but a nice change different. If you remember the last time I was in Cardiff I reported a roast beef type affair in one kebab shop (I assume there’s some head nodding action right now) well Mike was of the opinion that this was the place where it came from. In conclusion kebab fans, “Kebab King” is well worth a visit when in Cardiff.
With kebab foodstuffs eaten, we headed back to Austin’s, stopping off to join a large group of Norn iron fans “Doing the Healy” (see photo for explanation if required). As quite often happens, we sang the majority of the way, with “Flower of Scotland” getting puzzled looks from the Welsh people as ever.

Friday 10th September 2004

Our flight was at 10.15am, so we’d checked the bus timetables and worked out that we would get one to the airport at 8.10. I’d set my alarm on my phone to wake me at 7.15, so I’d be able to get up and “enjoy” Mrs Austin’s fry one last time before we left. But when Nick was leaving at 7.30 to head down to the dining room I was in no state to join him. I wasn’t convinced to move when I received a text from Mike at 07:35:23 saying “DOUGLAS! GET DOWN HERE!”. Or Lester’s 07:35:59 identical message. Not even Dave Millar’s slightly elongated 07:36:23 message of “DOUGLAS! GET DOWN HERE NOW BOYO, THE 4 PIECE AWAITS U!” swayed me to make the journey. I did however manage to scrape myself out of bed and get vaguely washed and dressed in time for their return to the room.

As it was raining outside, the bus plan was abandoned and Mrs Austin kindly organised a taxi for us (she was probably just happy to see the back of us). I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the journey, but did manage to hear enough of the local radio for it to make me want to hurt all the members of the Dragon FM Breakfast Crew.
We made it to the airport in plenty of time for check in, even getting a chance to waste the remains of our money on the Millionaire machine and on beautifully handcrafted Welsh gifts.
I continued to drift in and out of consciousness during the flight, which was a bonus as I didn’t get a chance to sh!t myself too much during it like I normally do (hardly even noticing the landing).
Back in the terminal everyone got their bags back successfully, we said our farewells, and then we went our separate ways. Back home I spent the rest of the day asleep.

Another short, but banterful, trip safely completed.