poor little lungs, so perfect when you were born and now you just do this to yourself.” Jesus! Like she never smoked a fag or had a drink. But most of all she was excellent at poking at wounds. She knew which buttons to press, she knew what would hurt, she knew the exact moment to bring up a failing just when I started to feel comfortable with her. Lonely old cow, I’m surprised as many people turned up in black as they did.


The University wasn’t that far away. I decided that I’d walk, not hop in a taxi like usual. Cardiff seemed tranquil, very quaint; and I thought how my father must have loved, or love to live here. Maybe he visited London. I suspected that he’d be cosmopolitan enough to head for the big city. Maybe he had to liaise with other Universities, for important meetings, at the head of the longest conference table in Goldsmiths, addressing senior lecturers, school deans, and governors on how to secure more funding, or informing them of new breakthroughs in scientific research. I hardly noticed the little shopping centre – not that you need to change anything


here, but I wondered if this was supposed to be where her dad worked? – only thing is, if so, maybe you should mention it again? – what with my mind rushing through my dad’s achievements - when I was passing Cardiff’s civic hall, museum and then the University. Already I could see myself settling here, everything was so close together, and dad could come over for lunch and introduce me to all the important people in Wales, and we would laugh and have dinner parties and he would tell stories of his trips to Papa New Guinea and The Gambia, where he discovered new medicines for dying children. Maybe there was a hospital nearby that would take me on. I was sure they must be screaming out for nurses with big city experience like mine.


The young girl at reception was awfully polite. She had a cheap, but poetic rhythm to her voice. I think she must have been on work experience as she did seem to be overly concerned with my predicament. I doubted anyone who worked there properly could be bothered with such a request. I sat in reception. The water container gurgled like a new born in the corner.


Students came in and out, collecting cheques, shaking hands with either the small gentleman with a ginger moustache, or the overweight lady with a flowery caftan. After three hours, my stomach demanded my attention. I needed to eat, but if I got up and left, no doubt that whomever was working ever so hard for me, would return to reception to find that I was no longer there, and that I couldn’t really have cared that much for the whereabouts of my long lost father, and that person would toss the information to the work experience girl and she would immediately shred the documents. Not that it would be her fault, she was just on work experience, but


23


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