Two things that drove me insane on St. David’s Day.

I had – as always – a driving lesson. Two stalls, one on a tricky road, one where it wasn’t technically my fault, and amazing Bay parking, reversing around the corner and 3 point turns means I did well. I think I’m getting safer and safer driver. Plus I’m safer than a number of people on the road.

I was driving through Penrhyn Bay going towards Colwyn Bay, when all of a sudden, a motorbike came whizzing down the centre of the road, narrowly missing my right wing mirror. I was livid, I was concentrating hard and this git proceeded to show off to his girlfriend (who was on the back). He then, as he drove down past theĀ  Rhos on Sea golf club swerving all over the place, and disappeared into the sunset.

The next thing I heard was an ambulance.

I don’t want to say it was related, but it did seem a little ominous. Either way, when the first time drivers hear an amulence, it can be a bit unnerving (I’m speaking from what my friends said). One of my friends drove for about half a mile without pulling over. I did the complete opposite, and pulled over far too early, leaving a blockage on the roundabout.


It was now me to suffer road rage, with drivers beeping and honking at me, which – although my instructor said that I did well – did put me in a foul mood.

How did your first experience with the emergency services fair?

The second thing that annoyed me was during the evening.

On Saturday evening, amongst other places, I went out to The London in Llandudno. As it was St. David’s Day, I got into the mood by wearing a Welsh Rugby Top. At which point, whilst the rest of my party entered the pub, I was collared by saying “We don’t allow people wearing rugby tops in, but you can wear your jacket.”

Fair dues to the bouncer for letting me in, but even so, I really, really don’t understand it. If I walked into a place, with a gun, knife or half a kilo of Charlie, chances are if I was wearing a jumper and a pair of shoes I’d be fine, and get in. The second I wear a pair of trainers or a rugby shirt, I’d be look at like I’m scum in the eyes of publicans! The London I can half understand, as it is quite a classy place. Broadway on the other hand (which is the nightclub at the other end of town), tries and offers “Faux Classy” with shoes and jumpers, where really the people who habit that place are by and large thugs.

That’s of course, whenever I actually wear trainers. I don’t wear trainers usually, I wear walking boots. Hence arguments with the bouncers in night clubs that usually end up with “These aren’t trainers, they’re walking boots. You try walking up Kilimanjaro in a pair of Nike’s”.

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