Having just informed you, my readers, about my home grown credentials, I realise it’s early days in my new home. But, between you and me, I think the odd job I see walking around this place is trying to confuse me. Take the photographs on the wall, this doesn’t look like the Cardiff I know and love…

What’s more, there seems to be some kind of artistic thing going on around the place with further worship of things New York!

Cardiff, Cardiff… so good they named it twice; well that’s my mantra, and I’m sticking to it. Though I might just share some of my worldly reflections in later posts. For now, I need to recalibrate my bearings, so lets go out for a stroll around this cauldron of Welsh culture. Anyone for a taxi? Hang on, what’s this, a pink Cadillac! Whatever happened to the good old Morris Oxford?

All of this confusion just serves to remind me I need to sharpen my claws. Ah, that arm rest will do, and perhaps a moment of madness with the conveniently placed pink fluffy dice…

The stress of all this geographical dislocation has generated quite an appetite; perhaps something indigenous and rustic is what’s called for. Oh no, not the American takeover vibe again…

Even the sweet stuff has been appropriated by the land of the buck…

Where has my Cardiff gone? Until we speak again my world has been turned completely upside down… anyone got an atlas?