Academic Ignorance

Posted: 19/10/2010 in ravings of a mad woman
Tags: , ,

I am amazed, but not totally surprised, by the incredible lack of culture in what is supposed to be a university city. I know all students are famous for is the drinking and leering, but surely at least some of them should be making some attempts to broaden their horizons? The “Dude” and I recently went to St. Davids hall to see the Mugenkyo taiko drummers and we were both severely disheartened to notice the lack of attendance for the evening. The tickets were hardly expensive, maybe equalling the price of entry and a drink, or maybe even just a drink or two, in any one of Cardiff’s “trendy hotspots”. Now I’m not turning into my mother here, I promise, but I really don’t get what all the fuss is about. I’ve never been much of a party animal (it was a novelty at 17 but by the time its legal it’s just boring) and instead would rather sit in a pub (well beer garden what with being a dirty dirty smoker) with the “Dude” and maybe a friend or two and rant about the rest of the world, the state of movies today and the gang rape of the english language that is coming from the, like, nearby table innit! It was a throughly enjoyable show and it was nice to indulge in a bit of culture for a change. It was a beautiful, and almost seamless blend of traditional Japanese drumming styles and performance and modern, Western influences. There was even a bit of everyone’s favourite, contemporary dance! ~Unfortunately, this dismay was only compounded by the sights as we left the concert hall. Walking through Cardiff city centre (on a Sunday night I might add!) we were confronted with the reality of living in a city occupied mainly by students. Dozens of small groups of people in matching t-shirts (some kind of freshers thing I assume) and most of them in either pajama bottoms of just their underwear and long socks, broken up only by the 3 grown men in baby pink romper suits and the poor guy with the glazed look in his eyes, wearing what I can only hope is his girlfriends salmon pink negligee. It was around this point that we realised exactly where every one was. St Davids Hall was all but empty, and yet Revolution and Oceana will have been packed fuller than Linford Christys lunchbox! The amount of fake tan, lip gloss and hair extensions was becoming almost obscene and you almost feel you don’t want to let anyone near you for fear of transference of such things, or the fact that they just seem to look sticky. In fact the “Dude” has stated that he would rather “eat a crack pipe than lick a student”. We all know that he is a student, but he’s actually a grown up too. He’s older than a lot of the “kids” in his class and has bills to pay and a healthy respect for other people’s feelings. It seemed to get better as we headed out of the city centre and away from the hordes of revelers, that was until we got that little bit further and back into Studentville. Unfortunately the “Dude” happens to live in Studentville, but definitely not through choice. Luckily the new students that have moved into the house next door for this year seem to be ok. By this I mean they have much better taste in the music they blast out at the most ungodly hours (not for us you understand, for as you know I’m not one for sleeping at any normal times, and luckily neither is the “Dude”, but for the other normal people who live around them) and prefer playing racing games rather loudly to having drunken parties. The only downsides I can see to them so far is the occasional bizarre yelp and the even more bizarre throat singing at various times of the day. As we crossed the road and set foot onto Studentville high street we heard the roars of laughter coming from a group sat around in the front garden of one of the houses a little further down. As walked further we saw two of these, clearly drunk students managed for find the power to propel themselves across the road and into a parked car. They clearly had the idea to jump on it, as opposed into it, but one of them managed to land on his back on the bonnet and the other only managed some sort of pathetic barrel roll directly into the rear door and on to his face in the road. We were glad to be home. Now, as I have stated, the new neighbours next door are not too bad thus far, but alas the same can not be said for the crack head looking chav upstairs.  One evening, whilst trying to cook dinner, to have it ready for when the “Dude” got back from uni when I heard something a bit odd. I listened a bit harder and realised that it was the guy upstairs watching pron with the volume turned up full blast (pardon the pun!). Then there’s the guy on the top floor who had a visit from the police recently, possibly in connection with the recent addition of an eyepatch to his wardrobe. Of course the “Dude” had to try to listen at the door and discovered it was something to do with them telling him to stay away from some woman. This building is a truly fascinating place to be and would make an incredible social study. There is clearly a distinct hierarchy of dysfunction:

Ground floor: Us nice, normal, only mildly sociopathic metal lovers who like to keep themselves to themselves and try not to make too much noise.

First floor: A self abusing chav with a serious hearing problem, who does nothing but shout at his son (I hope to god that night was one of the nights he DOESN’T have his kid with him!)

And 2nd floor: A possibly psychopathic genius (he’s in mensa) stalker with a severe squint, trying out a his new “Pirates of the Caribbean” look.

We’ll have our own place soon. I hope!


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