![]() It was late afternoon by this point and they had DJs setting up in there. It might have been Inncognito, which later became Cardiff Arts Institute. We headed for the nearest pub – can’t remember which one it was now, one on the way into town. We didn’t bother showering – I think I just about managed to brush my teeth – and back out into the wilds we went, all wearing sunglasses, clutching cans of Oranjeboom, heading up to Cathays to The Warm As Toast Cafe (Twat … RIP!) for ‘breakfast’.Īfter we’d managed to hold down the food, Pete started getting a second wind. We couldn’t sleep, of course, so after a few hours fitfully rolling around on the floor, Pete decided we needed a fry up and then to go back to the pub. We hotboxed ourselves in that tiny living area until it started getting light, when we all stumbled back to Pete’s flat, shading our eyes from the dazzling October skies. I never really liked weed so opted to just keep drinking booze and smoking fags. Pete and his flatmates ended up meeting loads of new friends that night – we all went back to someone else’s flat in Talybont South, where they produced endless amounts of weed and bongs, lungs, shotties. It was epic, driving music, with enough weird psychedelic sounds to keep your brain tweaking while you danced and stamped away, blissed out. The music was a mixture of trance and hard house. ![]() I was off my face, ended up snogging this cute blonde that lived in a student flat a few buildings away from them. Pete’s flatmates came with us too, they were still in that slightly awkward initial freshers phase, where you sort of have to hang out together because you haven’t met your tribe yet, but they were all lovely, if awkward. I hid the pills in my bra and we distributed them amongst us when we got in there. By this point, drugs had entered my recreational lexicon. There was some event on at Solus in the student union – maybe Carl Cox, or something? The entire union was covered in camo netting – it was everywhere. I was super fed up with Reading, and my friend Pete was at uni in Cardiff, and so during the first term I bought myself a railcard and took the train there to visit. That’s certainly how I felt about it.Īlso Danny Dyer. And by those standards, it might as well be Citizen Kane. It’s about being a certain age, being part of a scene, when you might never have really belonged anywhere before. But it’s not really about any of that, so none of that matters. The dialogue is clunky sometimes, the storyline abjectly ridiculous. I realise, obviously, that the film’s not without fault. The soundtrack was amazing, the people seemed friendly, the city like a neon playground inviting you from club to house party, back to club. We watched the film in the communal area (which was basically the kitchen), all wrapped up in blankets, sitting on uncomfortable kitchen chairs, smoking spliffs and drinking beers, totally absorbed in the whirlwind 99 minutes of clubs, drugs, pubs, and parties, all set in this magical narnia called Cardiff. I’d heard vaguely about it but couldn’t afford to go to the cinema back then, so hadn’t seen it. ![]() One of them had this new film, Human Traffic, on video (VHS!!! Imagine). One night, my flatmates suggested we watch a film before we went out. ![]() Most of my friends were off travelling, and I just didn’t seem to click with anyone there. I only just managed to get into Reading, but I didn’t like Reading at all. I was living in Exeter and I messed up my A level exams, and so ended up with shoddy grades, unable to get into any of my university choices. Sounds ridiculous, but that film changed my life. I can still remember the first time I saw Human Traffic. Her inspiration: Justin Kerrigan’s clubtastic Cardiff-based flick, Human Traffic. This week’s up close and personal comes from an old raver who moved to Cardiff in 1999. ![]()
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