Lost Weekend: Cardiff

5 April 2012

Never having been to Wales before - unless you count a geography field trip buried somewhere deep in my subconscious - I had doubts about visiting a place known for sheep, rain and men playing with odd-shaped balls.

But just two hours from Paddington, getting to Cardiff is easier than getting a cabbie to go south of the river after midnight. I'm already impressed.

The Big Sleep, a budget trend hotel slap-bang in the centre of town (investors include John Malkovich) is our base for tonight. It's a perfect place for mates on a bender (ie us), although perhaps not for lovers - no room service and Ikea furniture are hardly the recipe for romance.

Hitting Cardiff late on Friday, it wasn't easy finding a quick after-hours pint. We've no idea where we are or what to do until some lads take pity on us and herd us into Life, a relatively new place featuring lots of pine and lava lamps. OK, so we're surprised, but the club is full of attractive, softly spoken men - there isn't a rugby-shirted Taff to be avoided. And on hearing we're Cardiff novices, people couldn't have been more welcoming. Assured this is nothing to do with the fact we clearly stand out from the Lycra-clad crowd, we scribble down a few numbers before setting off to find somewhere with a later licence. No joy, so we stumble home for a good night's kip, avoiding all the trodden-in chips and kebabs.

The Bay is Cardiff's vibrant waterfront area and the St Davids hotel its highlight. Part of the Rocco Forte empire, it's pretty impressive. Not only does it have a detoxifying health spa (we'll leave that till Sunday) but the best bar and restaurant in Cardiff. I'd have been happy to stay put for the remainder of the weekend, but I've only been to one bar, excluding the minibar. Another taxi it is then. Used to extortionate London fares, it's a result when you get change from a fiver and a recommendation to try Brains S.A - a local bitter also known as Skull Attack.

Cardiff's city centre is pedestrianised - the reasoning behind which becomes clear as we manouevre around groups of paralytic heckling girls dressed for July. 'It's the weekly invasion of the valley girls,' I'm told. Clwb Ifor Bach is our first destination, a properly Welsh club and apparently John Peel's favourite. A few pints of Skull Attack mean we're merrily on our way. But that isn't our hearing on the blink - everyone's speaking Welsh. We don't make many friends.

Nik Kershaw, Tiffany and co. suddenly appeal, so we leg it to Emporium - a heaving pub packed with your typical Saturday-night punters out on the razz. We shimmy through Now That's What I Call Music Volumes 1-5 and then it's on to Life again. At 1am there's nowhere to go but the hotel bar, so it's back to the Bay and, in true rock'n'roll style, we continue the party in our hotel room once the bar has closed.

Someone once said, 'if you weren't there, it didn't happen'. Even so, I'm not going to spill all the beans. So bog off, Anne Robinson - Cardiff is a rocking city and the Welsh are worth their weight in leeks. AMELIA PINSENT

Amelia Pinsent travelled with First Great Western Trains (0845 700 0125) and stayed at the Big Sleep (02920 636 363) andthe St David's Hotel &Spa (02920 454 045).