Man, what a day in Bargoed! Seriously, I’m still buzzing from it. Woke up late, as usual. My flat on High Street was a mess. Clothes everywhere, like a tornado hit. But hey, that’s art, right?
So, I’m rushing out, coffee in hand, and I trip over my own shoes. Classic. I hit the pavement hard, and I swear, the old lady from next door, Mrs. Jenkins, cackled like a witch. “You alright, love?” she shouts. I just wave her off. I’m fine, just a little bruised ego, ya know?
First stop, the market on the main square. It’s buzzing! Fresh produce, flowers, and the smell of fried food. I’m starving. Grabbed a bacon butty from that little stall. Best in town, no contest. The guy behind the counter, Dave, always has a cheeky grin. “You look like you need this, mate!” he says. I mean, he’s not wrong.
Then, I’m wandering down Cardiff Road, and I see this mural. It’s massive! A tribute to the miners. Bargoed’s history is wild, man. The coal mines, the struggles, the triumphs. I get all emotional, standing there. Like, how did we go from that to this?
But then, outta nowhere, I hear shouting. A bunch of kids are arguing over a football. I’m thinking, “Oh great, here we go.” But then they start laughing, and it’s like, wow, that’s the spirit of Bargoed! Kids just being kids, ya know?
I keep walking, and I bump into my mate, Tom. He’s always got some crazy story. Today, he tells me he saw a fox in the park. “It was just chillin’, mate! Like it owned the place!” We both crack up. Bargoed’s got its wildlife, for sure.
Next, I head to the library on Hanbury Road. I love that place. It’s got this old-school vibe. I’m looking for inspiration for my next project. But the librarian, Mrs. Evans, is on a roll. “You need to read this!” she says, shoving a book in my face. I’m like, “Chill, I’ll get to it!” But she’s relentless.
After that, I decide to hit the park. It’s a nice day, sun’s out. I plop down on a bench, and this dog runs up to me. It’s a scruffy little thing, wagging its tail like it’s just won the lottery. I’m petting it, and its owner, this guy named Steve, comes over. “He’s a good boy, innit?” I’m like, “Yeah, he’s living his best life!”
But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, proper Welsh rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I dash for cover under a tree, and I’m just standing there, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Bargoed weather, man. You gotta love it.
Finally, I head back home, drenched but happy. I think about all the little moments today. The laughter, the history, the unexpected. Bargoed’s got this charm, ya know? It’s quirky, it’s real.
As I sit down with a cuppa, I realize, this city, with all its ups and downs, it’s my canvas. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What a day, what a day!