bingo in britain

(well, it was actually in wales, but the alliteration works better. apologies to the welsh.)

They do bingo differently here. There are not little cards with 'B', 'I', 'N', 'G', 'O' rows that are called like 'B-14'. There are booklets with several games in them, color coded, with vertical rows arranged by tens across from left to right and then they call numbers in an initially confusing way. Like 'all the sevens, seventy seven' and 'five and nine, fifty nine' -- to which people respond, 'woo! woo!', which i am assuming is supposed to sound like a train, although the reason for this has not become apparent at this point. Then, there is 'legs eleven, eleven' -- and then the men cat-call and clink their classes with forks or whatever. Also, one does not yell, 'BINGO!' -- one calls, 'House!' in a very civilised tone.

And HERE, have conveniently located a bingo dictionary for those of you curious folks :) It is cunningly called Bingo Lingo.

The reason for this cultural bingo analysis is the fund-raising quiz night tonight at the Park Conservative Club around the corner from my house. It is to fund part of a new floor for the sacristy at St. Martin's. Sheila came by and collected me to go and we had a fun time, although they set the raffle machine incorrectly and so people who had low numbers had no chance of winning. And of course, my numbers were bought early and therefore were in the 20s.

Had fish and chips and now feel quite to have maxed out fried food requirement for month.

My contributions to the quiz were very limited. I believe that my most impressive answer was that Bam-Bam was adopted by The Rubbles... (although must admit had no idea he was adopted). Oh, and I was appreciated for knowing what color a plane's 'black box' is. Four US Presidents have been assassinated while in office (got that wrong). And who knew that constellations were called different names here? The Big Dipper is called The Plough. Yet another useful tidbit of information is that the term potpourri literally means 'rotten pot'.

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Yesterday was quite a busy day! Walked to Riverside market with Kath (Maurizio's girlfriend) and then, after helping Fabiana with her papers, she -- Fabiana -- and I went for a bike ride all over God's creation. Well, I mean, just through a small part of reasonably-sized Cardiff, but it was far in my head. We first rode to Roath Park (about 7 minutes ride from our house; lighthouse to R), through Cathays cemetary (naturally) and then to the Bay! The Bay is Fabiana's escape when she needs to flee somewhere. She has been quite more adventurous on her bike than myself.

All the way to the Bay! It only takes about 15 minutes, so really not that bad. Rode around the docks and around the side of the bay where the Norwegian Church and Cardiff tourist centre are located, where I had never been before.

In attempt to be artistic (and because they were so cute with their beaks tucked under their wings), took picture of ducks sleeping on a floating thing next to a big boat.


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Other news:
The Northern Ireland Assembly met today for the first time in 3 years.

Bono will be guest editor of The Independent (this weekend, I think).

BBC4 sounds amused and bemused by the deployment of US troops to the Mexican border.

A water emergency has been declared in south-east England and water restrictions are imminent.

The new season of Big Brother begins on Thursday... HOW is this newsworthy? WHY is 'reality' t.v. still in our society? Shouldn't this 'cultural' item have imploded by now?

It is forecast to rain in both Venice and Paris for the duration of my trip. Oh, hoorah.