Mind the Rat

Did a pointless trip to Wales this weekend. Some would say all trips to Wales are pointless, and I would agree. I guess this trip was doubly pointless then, but more of that later. Have you ever been to the cess pit that is South Wales? If you drive there on the M4 you have the delights of a toll bridge (didn’t bother trying to remember the name) to cross. It’s a nice bridge, just a shame about the destination. Also wryly amusing is that it’s only a toll bridge one way; to leave Wales is free. They are surely missing a trick there; I can’t believe that I actually have to PAY to get into Wales. Surely they’d make more money if it was free to get in, but you had to pay to get out. Wales has an image of being deprived, so what's the first thing that happens on your arrival in the country? “Give me some money.” The toll booths are actually at the far (Welsh) end of the bridge. And they only take cash. And they have no cashpoint, so if you need cash, they stop all the traffic and send you back over the bridge to find a cashpoint, the nearest one being 9 miles away. Breathtaking. Oh, and the first car I saw once over the border had a bumper sticker saying, “I (heart) my rat.” Dear God, please save me from this hellhole.

I went for an ‘International’ conference, with the hope of meeting some international national team members (not sure that makes sense – the people that run the organisation in each country i.e. the national team), in order to talk to them about governance and transparency. It turns out that none of the members there were in any positions of authority at all – they were just a bunch of 18 year olds, albeit 18 year olds from all over Europe. I arrived on Saturday about 6pm, the meal was supposed to start at 8, but eventually got going at 930. You ever been to a ‘formal’ meal? You know the kind; where the chaps dress up in their tuxedos and the ladies wear their best frocks? Whilst I don’t expect a bunch of 18 year olds to be wearing Armani and I would be very surprised if they all possessed dinner suits, but is it unreasonable of me to expect them to make some effort? Since when have jeans been formal? Leather jacket anyone? T-shirt? To be fair, on the whole the girls had made an effort, some of them looking very glamorous, but the guys were just... embarrassing. Some thought that wearing a shirt was enough to be ‘formal’. The more progressive amongst them even ironed theirs. One chap, wearing jeans round his thighs and a grotty leather jacket decided that wearing a trilby would be his nod in the direction of formality. It was quite entertaining seeing him try to keep it at the same jaunty angle all evening.

So, I had a couple of glasses of wine with my meal then went to bed, as there was absolutely no point whatever in wasting any more of my time on this lot. I was in bed by 1130 and up at 9. Then I left. I didn’t make any excuses. Utterly, utterly pointless trip.

I may at some point in the future write something upbeat or amusing but right now I’m kind of bored so you can suffer my rantings.