MET up with some of the old WoS crew on Monday for a few pre-baby beers (it may be my last chance for some time). Good to see the Fugitive and Danny Boy (the poipes, the poipes) though it must be said the day deteriorated somewhat after a leisurely few beers and a terrific lunch in Mimosas at Cardiff Bay.
I opted for the steak and although it came cut up, as if prepared for an infant, and sat on top of a square of chips that somewhat resembled a game of Jenga, it was beautifully cooked - though I do somewhat quibble at the price - £16. I guess you pay for the presentation.
Where it all deteriorated was when we returned to the city centre and, after a quick bevvy in the old new O'Neil's where we were joined by Wathanovski, the Fugitive suddenly had it in his mind that it would be a good idea to pop into Pica Pica because there was a 2 for 1 cocktail offer.
Now, I am all for 2 for 1 cocktails on a Friday or Saturday night from about 8pm, but on a quiet Monday at around 6.30? Still, there was no holding the Welsh rugby fanatic back and pretty soon we were chugging back Mojitos and some dangerous looking red drink. I have no idea what it was or what it contained.
By 8.30 or so I had wobbled back to the Sandringham Hotel where I was staying and the next thing I knew I was waking at 5.30am, lights blazing and tv blaring.
I do miss Cardiff.
The hotel itself was more than adequate and value for money at £36. It is located right in the middle of St Mary's Street and though it has seen better days it still had everything you could require as a crash pad after a boozy night out, including a full English breakfast that was all part of the overall price.
Mrs Rippers was distraught at the weekend. It appeared her internet had packed in, preventing her from single-handedly keeping Amazon.co.uk in business. She rang Virgin Media's IT support without luck, cursing the "useless" person on the end of the phone who tried to advise her.
Eventually, three days later, a new wireless router turned up on the doorstep.
I tried to set it up but it kept telling me that it couldn't find the computer I was using - that was until I found the little switch on the side which enables you to access the internet and pushed it forward.
"Oh," said Mrs R, looking a little bit perplexed. "I wonder if that is the reason I couldn't access the net?"
A possibility, I reckon, but nice to get a brand new router into the bargain.
For someone who absolutely hates setting things up, I have found myself in my own personal hell over the last few weeks. First there was the Argos flatpack which, after much cussing, finally turned itself into a child's chest of drawers, and on Wednesday it was a large canvas covered wardrobe.
Mrs Rippers, in the advanced stages of pregnancy, sat on the big round ball she had obtained from Mothercare and acted as foreman for the afternoon while I battled with various sized planks of wood, screws and an Alun key.
I have to say the raw materials I was given to work with must have been put together by a mentally challenged chimpanzee which made the job even harder than it appeared to be in the first place. I found myself using words which, quite honestly, have never really been part of my vocabulary - phrases like "This joint isn't flush."
I guess if the job opportunities ever dry up I could find myself working for B&Q with that kind of language.