Cardiff in Welsh is Caerdydd

In the middle of our London visit we took a train to Cardiff to stay with a friend of mine, a dentist whose wish to work in diverse locales improbably took him to Alice Springs a few years ago, where we met. After we briefly recapped our famous victory in the Alice indoor soccer competition back in '06 he toured us around Cardiff's sites. This activity being completed within two hours we retired to a licensed premises. On the second day we slept in and then travelled to Big Pit, a former coal mine and now museum, arriving late after having an argument with the satellite navigation lady (she won, she's so infuriatingly assertive and sure of herself). Again connections were made between vague understandings: "Wales" and "mining" existed in my mind quite close to each other but without being explicitly connected until now. This was once the biggest coal exporter in the world. On the way in we saw an old photo of Margaret Thatcher holding a canary with some miners around her; some wag had drawn on a moustache on her that had been carefully but not quite completely subsequently erased. The earnest miner (a great enthusiast of the Welsh Cobb breed of horse; he admonished a school girl in our group who said she had one but didn't take it to jumping competitions, thus wasting it's great talent) that took us down the shaft for the tour told us that the two retired pet canaries upstairs were named Arthur and Maggie, but we weren't to say their surnames because they brought bad luck, their two namesakes having destroyed the British mining industry. He went on to say that all miners should get a day off "when she goes", and that he would be there, "singin' me lungs out".

After the enjoyable and informative tour of the shaft we took in the miners' showers (an unusual thing to tour I thought) and a museum. We headed off to walk up the tallest mountain in South Wales, just as a thick fog descended to obliterate what our host assured us was a lovely view. After taking some photos of the fog we descended and it began to lift. We retired to a licensed premises. I forced our party to stop in at a pub with karaoke, as well as carpet whose pattern had been obliterated everywhere but the very corners of the room and immediately around supportive pillars. Judging by the looks on their faces just being in this venue caused our local friends great pain but I hope my performance of "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" was worth it.

We left Wales for Bath in western England, where our London host was celebrating her 30th birthday at her parent's house. Because we were staying two nights we were given the best guest room in the house (in a house that sleeps 16 comfortably). It is to date the best room of the trip, with private bathroom and a view over a lovely green English valley, with a corner of Georgian Bath visible in the distance. The party was a triumph of complicated catering, and the presence of an Aga oven in the kitchen plunged me into sentimental reflection on my grandmother's former home, while also enabling me to curry favour with the host by asking her about her kitchen renovation. We played croquet on the lawn, which as an Australian I would have obviously won had I not had to be teamed up with English people. I further flew the flag by opening a beer just as everyone else went to bed, although this may have reversed my previous favoritism with the host.

The following day we took in the Roman Baths, a museum built over the site of the remains of a 1st and 2nd century Roman leisure centre, enjoyed lunch in a ye olde pub, and were ferried around the district by our host with a detailed tour of nearby towns and buildings of interest. We returned home where his mood was improved by England spanking Australia in the 20-20 World Cup Final, which he could have rubbed in more but was discouraged by my attitude of indifference, which was only slightly put on. We returned to London for one more night in a dreadfully overpriced hostel and lay awake wondering if we were going to be able to dodge British Airways strikes and Icelandic volcanic ash to get to Spain. We're sick of speaking English.