Marty's Wedding (Cardiff)

After this headline I was too afraid to move from my 5 star luxury resort (nice change from a hostel in Dresden!). Well apart from getting fitted for suits and getting rained on in luverly Cardiff. As a result of this quick trip we were two cars away from an "interesting" 3 car smash - Stu and I spent the rest of the day deciding how it had actually happened, me using all my accident investigation skills. The photo below is taken in the markets when we were chasing brunch - somehow we resisted the rows and rows of bacon rolls, ham off the bone etc. etc. and ended up in a pub for breakfast beers! (well it was midday).
The night before the wedding we marked Marty's stag in less alcoholic but more entertaining fashion than usual. We went go-karting where I stood out at the other end of the ladder managing to be beaten by a Tongan front-rower and a Welsh blonde. Since Im being PC I wont mention the sex of the latter (is it still sexism when you use it for you?). Lets just say dinner was more fun for me.

The wedding was lovely - nice old church, Welsh choir with everyone's favourite hymns to be belted out (and a male voice choir for "incidental" music), the bride looked beautiful in vintage silk (I might have made that up), the bridesmaids looked gorgeous in red dresses, blonde curls, and 3 old UWA geos even managed to clean up their act for the day.
Some of us didnt completely clean up our act - my memory is a bit lacking after too many pre-dinner champers and Fosters (everytime I asked for a Kronenbourg I got a Fosters. Must be my accent?!) then some Aussie red with dinner. I remember heckling the speeches "a bit" but live in fear I might have been a drunken idiot instead of funny. With any luck the smile in Marty's eyes is joy at cutting the cake with his lovely new bride not "Shut up Bill or I'll throw the knife"
After the reception we had to negotiate the 2kms back to the hotel from the clubhouse (whhere the reception was held). I suspect the walk might have done me good but I accepted the offer of a lift... an idea we all reconsidered during the couple of laps of the carpark trying to find the exit. Hmm. Not that I can talk - apparently my commentary about getting stuck in, then through, the revolving door at the front of the hotel was insanely funny for the person on the other end of the phone. I do remember being in the hotel bar at 3am, with the amassed Welsh youth singing Oasis and thinking it was about the time I should be moving towards bed.

At 8am the next day I was wondering why I bothered. The cab driver was touching in his concern "My God you're going to Ireland? You'll be given a drink before you leave the airport". I suspect his concern was easily brought (85quid cab fare from hotel to airport) but it was touching nonetheless. As was Ryanairs surprising ability to leave on time and arrive in Dublin early (so much for a sleep on the plane). For those playing at home the airline with the worst reputation was the only one to be punctual - what the?!