Splott beach

Well who knew there was a beach in Splott? I've lived in Splott for nearly ten years and I first heard about it a few weeks ago. I did a quick Google and one of the first hits was Doc Mortimer's blog.  I'm not going to link to it as I didn't think it was very nice, to be honest.

Yes the beach is made up of debris from old Victorian factories that fell into the sea, yes there are wave-worn bricks and bits of glass... but it's beautiful. I'm going to make a film about it. I love Splott, it's the place in Cardiff I've lived in longest, and where I've made my home. Chris and I are currently renovating the house, and have spent the last few years really getting to know the area. Shirley Bassey used to live here, and I walk the dog down the road she used to play on as a child. I walk him past grass verges that used to be pubs where working class people spent their wages on a Friday having a pint or two.

I'm trying my best to get Cardiff Council to reopen an unused park to turn it into a community garden for the area. I run a flytipping and litter action group called Tidy STAR. I sing in a choir in Splott. My band has band practice every Thursday in Splott. I'm an adopted Splott boy!

 

The Bugs Bunny is a cereal toy from 1984 - which means it's older than Christopher!

If I had a gun

A few weeks ago Patrick and I went to the big Sainbury's to do some food shopping, and as we were walking back through Splott along a road with a bit of a traffic jam on it. We were busy chatting away, and as we walked past a pickup truck a little chav leaned out and shouted,
"Ow!" so I looked round. He continued, "Which one's the bitch?" I carried on talking to Patrick and heard him shout back at us, "Fucking queers."
Normally this kind of thing doesn't bother me, and I usually don't even notice - but this time I got really fucking angry and a upset. Who the hell does he think he is? An ugly little chav (he was probably about 17) shouting at me in the street! With his bumfluff moustache, fat pregnant girlfriend at home on benefits, illiteracy, ugliness... hmm, I went all Daily Mail then.
How dare he think that anyone cares about his opinion, he is nothing: a little cowboy builder with no qualifications, social skills, prospects or aspirations. It's very rare that I hate real people (I hate a lot of celebrities, but they don't count) but he really fucked me off. Patrick didn't seem bothered, perhaps because he didn't hear him (bless him, he was listening to me) but partly because he says he wouldn't let a non-entity like that upset him. As the night wore on, I got more and more angry with the little runt. If he'd been walking past Patrick and I on his own, I doubt he would even have looked at us; but because he was in a van with two fat builders he thought it would be funny to shout at two people walking on the street. I know the best way to deal with little cunts like that is to ignore them, which I did, but oh my god... if I had a gun.

I ♥ Splott

On my way to work this morning I stopped to get some money out of the Co-op ATM, and had to wait while an older chav and his even older chav dad tried to take money out. They used every card they had, which were all refused, then called the machine a cunt. Now that isn't what annoyed me, what annoyed me was they asked for a receipt every time and then threw them on the floor without even looking at them.

Further down Habershon Street I stumbled upon an extinguished bonfire on the pavement. It looked like a few black bags full of someone's belongings had been set on fire. There were VHS cassettes, clothes, shoes; all charred, and burnt to the pavement and road. This was right outside someone's front door too.

Fair play, what a bunch of horrible bastards live round here. I'm so lucky to live here.