LAST time I spent a sporting weekend in Cardiff, I kipped in the fire station, had a curry at 3.30 in the morning and sang Two Little Boys at the top of my voice in more pubs that I can remember.
It was the occasion of Hartlepool United’s play-off final against Sheffield Wednesday and was quite honestly the weekend for which the word “legendary” had been invented.
A group of 16 of us headed down in a mini-bus and, because one of the lads was a fireman, he arranged for us to crash out in Blue Watch’s sports hall while the blokes who worked there were all out dousing bonfires and rescuing cats up trees.
The result didn’t go Pools’ way (sending off, my a**e!!) but the rest of the trip was out of this world.
In fact my last visit to the PL Pairs at the OTA and British Grand Prix at the Millennium Stadium provided more stories than a Best of Jackanory DVD too.
We stayed in a hotel in Somerset which was also hosting a wedding as we arrived.
Without wishing to be either unkind or sexist in any way, the bride was a minger. To be fair, she did have some nice tattoos though.
And miserable? I’d seen happier faces at Princess Di’s funeral.
One of the guests, despite being a little worse for wear in the early afternoon, nevertheless joined us for a couple of cheeky ones in the bar before we headed off to the Pairs.
We saw him again as we arrived back after the meeting. Only this time he was being grabbed by the throat and held up against the wall by the groom as all hell was breaking loose in the car park.
A while later he was spotted slumped against a wall, crying his eyes out, and sobbing: “She should have married me.”
At least it allowed us to help ourselves to the left-over food at the reception as the guests left hurriedly.
With all of that in mind, this weekend’s PL Pairs/British GP tour should be interesting.
Protocol dictates that “what goes on tour stays on tour” but – so long as the threats of recrimination are not too violent – I may well have some more tales to tell here next week. . .