I know that you have been probably been waiting for this and although predictable, I had to offer my thoughts.
Yesterday, Cardiff was amongst the six cities put forward as European Capital of Culture for 2008. Yes, I know I complain about the rain a lot, but Cardiff - and Wales - does have a lot going for it. Bob Humphries, of the BBC gives a Welshmans view of Cardiff in the link, but if you want my view, there is much more to Cardiff than the Millennium Stadium, rugby and the singing (although after a vodka or two, I have been known to join in with Cwm Rhondda).
Naturally, growing up in the area, I have seen all that Cardiff has to offer over the years. I’ve played on the stage at St David’s Hall, have caroused the Broadway on the occassional night out and have spent many a raucous evening in the new Bay area.
If you’ve never been on a visit to Cardiff, don’t wait for 2008 - when the hotels will almost certainly up their rates. Come down now. The shopping is superb, the art galleries, museums and theatres are all there (if you want them) and the nightlife can now rival anything offered in Newcastle, Manchester, Liverpool - or anywhere else “over the border”.

For those of you anxious about the current state of play with the weather here in Wales, I can tell you that we’ve had a really blowy and rainy weekend. However, for once, I think that that could be said for most parts of the UK.
I came out of my local club on Saturday night, and could have saved myself the cab fare by flying home. It was one of those rare times when the wind could actually blow you off your feet - especially if you’d had a cocktail or two. It was quite good fun, really, although I’m sure the amusement came more from the alcohol than the wind.
The bad news came last night, when the other half and I found our garage had flooded. There was a high comedy moment as I took a broom in my hands for the first time in years! My mother is still ashamed that the other half does the majority (if not all) the housework - after all, that’s why women were put on the earth (along with the inevitable bearing of children and cooking). I love my mother, but we don’t always see eye-to-eye on the role of women in today’s society. I’m still working on her, however, much to my father’s frustration (he now has to wash up after every meal - something that he regularly blames on me).
After much sweeping (and swearing) the garage was cleared of water. However, we now await the next storm to see if this is to become a regular occurence.
With this only being Autumn, can’t wait to see what Winter will bring. That’s when the weather will really take a turn for the worst.

I’ve been working for nearly the last five years in a research unit attached to the NHS in Wales. What has continued to amaze me over this time, is the variety of grants available, if you’re only brave enough to come up with some outrageous question. If you want to answer something that is actually important to the patients we treat, then it is much more difficult to find funding.
The following two - both linked to sex - have been reported recently on the BBC News website. The first was the publication of research from a group in London looking at the links between the size of a man’s feet and his penis size. As most women could have told them, without the gruelling months of research, there is none! The second relates to headaches expereinced - predominantly by men - at the point of orgasm. This research was conducted by a group in Germany, who found that this happened, usually only once, and then resolved itself.
I do not have a penis, and have never suffered from migrane-like headaches during sex, so perhaps I am speaking out of turn. However - why the hell does research such as this get money? Answers on a postcard, please.

My favourite thing about the weekend is getting up (very late) on Sunday morning, picking up the newspaper (always The Observer), putting on a pot of coffee, and sitting at the table for a good read. It’s become the one chance in the week that I have to do this. We have The Guardian on a Saturday, but there is always so much to do, that it tends to be sped-read before I get on with the one hundred and one things I should have been doing all week.
In this weeks Observer, there was a supplement about sex - if you didn’t get it this link will get you an on-line version. Most interestingly, to me anyway, was the survey on Britains sexual habits. Have a go, and see how you compare to the average. For once, Wales came top in something - it doesn’t happen often, so I have to take some pride. According to the survey, “People in Wales are the most promiscuous (13 (sexual partners)), while those in Yorkshire and Humberside have the fewest sexual partners (6).” (lifted directly from The Observer, 27/10/02).
All I can say is that there are some very small villages in Wales - and to have 13 sexual partners must be going some (and please, I’ve heard every joke about sheep going, so don’t even think about it!).

Several of our friends, and my other half, work for the same company - mainly on shift work. It’s an on-going joke that my other half spends most of his nightshifts in the comfy arm-chair asleep.
However, I can now dispel this rumour. He is in fact surfing the Internet. He sent me this link to the BBC News website, closely followed by some further evidence before closing with this link to some of his favourites.
All I can say is - “get back to work we need the money!”. Our trip to New York is less than four weeks away, and I’m in urgent need of new clothes.

Just an update on the weather situation here in South Wales. Have had to start building an Ark in the back garden! Yet again, the rain today has been of biblical proportions - with the full thunder and lightning sound and visual effects. Got soaked on at least three occasions - one of which was whilst going to buy cigarettes, so my own fault I guess.
Worse still, the cats are now getting really fractious at not having gone out for days. The fights are getting worse - and the tactics and strategic planning more intricate (including hiding in the wardrobes amongst my black trousers for cover, behind curtains and under the beds - which was a shock to me at 7.30 the other morning, when I nearly stood on the attacking force). Whoever said that cats weren’t as clever as humans was wrong. My two could have Saddam by the short and curlies, and still be home for their tea.

Now, a year ago, Friday night was the end of the week - rather than the start of the weekend. I’d happily curl up on the sofa and watch crap TV until bedtime.
However, of late, Friday night has been a time to go out for some training in preparation for Saturday. A few voddies at the local, just to relax the muscles in the throat ready for the onslaught that the weekend generally brings. This week - nothing, nadir! No-one was going out and the other half was in work.
Having had a really busy week (and still getting over the rather excessive consumption of vodka on Thursday - an evening with an old mate that usually involves a couple of beers that turned into an unexpected but nonetheless welcome excursion into drunkeness) I settled back, remote control in hand and started to channel-hop.
Now channel hopping on the TV has to be one of my favourite things to do. Other half hates it and can’t understand why as soon as an ad break comes on I feel the need to change channels. I could excuse the behaviour as a desire not to be sucked into the capitalist maelstrom that is advertising, but its not that, I just get bored really quickly. It’s also genetic, as my father does exactly the same thing - much to my mother’s exasperation. Other half gets pissed off, as this tends to mean that I find something else on another channel, and whatever we were watching gets forgotten.
It happened the other night. We were watching something on the BBC - so startling that I can’t even remember what - and I had this urge to flick over. In a usual home, this would entail a maximum of 20 channels or so. Unfortunately, in our home, that means well over 100 channels to explore. We (or should I say I, because himself went off to do some cooking for the majority of film 1) ended up watching Coyote Ugly (sentimental American tripe) followed by Girl, Interrupted (brilliant film that everyone needs to watch - if only for the scene in the ice-cream parlour).
Getting back to where this started, I endured the worst evening of programming, ever. Fame Academy, Celebrity Fit Club, Die Hard 2 (not a bad film, but I need no reminding that Christmas is less than 9 weeks away), Cable TV (actually not so bad programme shown on BBC 2W (BBC 2 digital in Wales) and hosted by Stuart Cable (the drummer from the excellent Welsh band, Stereophonics)), the X-Files, The Osbournes, etc. Over 100 channels and rubbish on each.
All I can say is that I hope next Friday is a little more exciting - even a couple down the local would be an improvement on this!

Another football related post.
A friend sent me this link, which allows you to work out the football club you should support - putting aside family loyalty and history, etc. Completely pointless, but a bit of a giggle.
Oh, and if you’re interested - I came out as Sunderland!

As a die-hard Liverpool FC fan, we’re used to Manchester United (known locally in South Wales, if not elsewhere, as “the scum”) taking all types of liberties. For the non-football obsessed, the jokes made about the extra injury time played at Old Trafford when the scum are losing are based on real life - believe me, I’ve had to sit through it often enough. And the Roy Keane thing - just don’t get me going.
Anyway, I discovered today than the scum are looking towards another way of saving their season. What will they try next?

Friends Reunited has got to be one of the web phenomenoms of the last few years. Most of the people I know are either on it or have searched it (Note: it’s especially entertaining when drunk - now they’ve added workplaces as well, there is just so much more scope for silliness!). I have even made contact with a few people using it.
One girl I hadn’t heard of since junior school (no, I’m not telling how long ago that was), when she moved with her family to North Wales. I lost contact with another friend when she went off to study in Birmingham. We’re now back in touch - much to my other halfs’ dismay (the phone bill is reaching dangerous levels).
Based on the same idea, this new website has just come to my attention. It tickled my sense of humour completely.