Carry me ‘cross the river

One day, I will live in Pontcanna…

…perhaps in a nice arts & crafts Edwardian villa in, say, Turbeville Place; one with its original features intact and a south-west facing garden where I shall grow chervil, basil and chives.

At my dreamy, butterfly-kissed Llandaf Fields allotment I’ll host wine-drenched garden parties on long summer nights and produce enough surplus to sell parsnip chutneys and damson jams on my thriving Riverside Market stall.

Of an evening, I’ll catch some experimental European cinema at Chapter, or snort coke off the top of a toilet cistern down the Cameo Club, or banter with Rhodri Morgan and a Super Furry Animal or two in the Robin Hood and the Romilly.

I will move easily between heavy-duty bilingual intellectuals and chirpy ‘Diff crooks – when I can tear myself away from pottery workshops at Llanofer Hall.

It will be a healthy, outdoor life. Look! Look! That’s me! The prat striking Taekwondo postures in the middle of Pontcanna Fields, the ponce promenading a Bichon Frise around Thompson’s Park, the poseur breezing through a cryptic crossword over an Espresso Romano at a pavement table outside Café Brava. Can’t you see?

…I will belong in Pontcanna, I will flourish in Pontcanna, I will be happy in Pontcanna…Pontcanna, city of my dreams, I’m coming home.