On the Bale trail – Real Madrid 7 Sevilla 3

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Time to find out if Gareth Bale has the cojones for La Liga.

And what a game it proved. A famous stadium. A famous scoreline – same as the incredible 1960 European Cup Final – harking back to days of Di Stefano and Puskas. The sense of history celebrated and history in the making was immense.

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Womex 2013, Day 3

womex 001Could it get any better? The short answer was ‘Yes’.

The sheer unexpected excellence of pretty much every act was a revelation. I don’t think it’s too much of an exaggeration to say that, with apologies to the National Eisteddfod, there can’t have been many better festivals/musical gatherings in our long and glorious history.

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Womex 2013, Day 1

Womex 2013 is a trade fair/shindig for people who work in the world music industry to get together to swap tips, check each other out and, I imagine, like all these things slap each other on the back.

Each of the three days of the festival ends with about 15 acts playing a 45-minute set at one of five stages. Three are in the Millennium Centre in Cardiff’s Docks. Two are in the Pabell  (tent) outside.

The timings mean you can only catch five acts per night. Night one was a cracker.

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Trust in Cookie – Wales 1 Macedonia 0

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Is it crisis over now? And finally there’s been an outbreak of trust and hugs and kisses all round? Did the FA say to Chris Coleman in the communal showers after: “We were always going to keep you, Cookie – this was a test.”

I hope so. And I think it’s the least he deserves. We can all move on then. To new Welsh football fiascos and debacles. Or maybe with the world’s most expensive footballer in our ranks and Britain’s best player (Ramsey) we can finally achieve something concrete.

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Tonypandemonium

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The road trip

Up the A4058 from for the latest National Theatre Wales production. Tickets £8. Bargain.  Drive through Ponty along a route through never-ending valley villages, all look the same – where’s the join, why do they have different names? A relentless ribbon of squat miner’s homes, grey pebble-dashed terraces.

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Glamorgan, grandpa and the 1977 Gillette Cup final

Before punk, there was Glamorgan.

County cricket bit me when I was six, sparking what would now be called a fanboy phase of undying, uncritical devotion, setting a lifelong pattern of following the underdog.

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Monty Python and the Holy Bale – Macedonia 2 Wales 1

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Time was, when the surreal stuff, the weird and wonderfully wacky ways of Welsh fans were the defining characteristic of a trip and indeed, the sole reason for going. Away games were the closest we might get to a journey to Mars or being in a rock band.

I can remember the concierge of Baku’s Hotel Grot, as it should have been called, asking me: “Why your friends throw TV from 16th floor window?” He wouldn’t have understood the answer: “Because they’re from Bala.”

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