So, as you can guess by the title of this post, I was sat in a cab office at 3am on Saturday night/Sunday morning. My God.

After a very boozy night in Wrexham, where I was visiting my fellow travel buddy, (no doubt you'll hear more about her, we're going to Australia in 2 weeks!) we finally decided we'd had enough of celebrating the Welsh Rugby team's triumph over England (WALES! WALES!).

So, down the road in the freezing cold we went (glad that we had jackets but cursing that they weren't long woolly coats) and into this taxi office which I don't know how to begin to describe.

Purgatory might be a start.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the term, Purgatory is the place that Catholics believe your soul goes to await judgement. The waiting room before you visit St. Peter at the Pearly Gates who either lets you into God's backyard, or banishes you to eternal torment. Thing is, everyone hangs round in purgatory until the last judgement, otherwise known as the Apocalypse. So if you died say, oooh I don't know, 50 years after the Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden, you'd still be waiting now. And that's a bloody long time. If you believe in all that of course. Personally, i hate queuing. I would seriously consider joining a religion purely on the basis of not having to wait for a decision or an answer. But then I suppose that's not the point of religion is it? They're kind of built on conditions and waiting and personal growth and development. Which again takes time, perhaps even an eternity.Anyway, enough of the theological discussion for today...

We were waiting in Purgatory for a taxi for a very long time, possibly eternity, depending on your theological and philosophical viewpoints. Well, it was about 45mins, but believe me it felt like eternity.
The actual office was like a cheap Spanish hotel circa 1978: all formica, sludge-green marble tiles and stained wood.
Then there were the fellow inmates.

If you're not British and are reading this, please, please don't take this account as an indication of the type of people who populate this fair and green land, believe me, they are the minority. No country could survive if they were the majority of its population. Seriously, we'd have died out with the dinosaurs if that was true.

Other than the usual scantily clad good time gals and the 'wahhey alright luv' lads,we had: the drunken female soldier and a cast of supporting players.At least, I think she was a soldier, I'm merely guessing from the tirade she was unleashing on an innocent bystander who was foolish enough to insult his mate in her presence...
'I can't believe you're speaking to your mate like that! I haven't been out in 14 months, I've been in Iraq, and I can't believe you're disrespecting him like that! As a girl, who's been in Iraq, me and my mates are like that, rock solid, especially since I've been in Iraq and I haven't been out in 14 months. I haven't even been in Wrexham for 9 months, cos I've been in Iraq and I can't believe I've been there fighting and your talking to your mate like that. Is he your best mate? I haven't been out for 14 months so I'm drunk, cos I've been in Iraq but honestly, you shouldn't speak to him like that! I know its none of my business, but I haven't been out in 14 months, I've been in Iraq and I wouldn't do that to my mates and they wouldn't do that to me, cos I've been in Iraq and I haven't been out in 14 months and... is that my taxi? I'm off!' And that's the lucid version!

The there was the guy who was so wasted he dropped something resembling mayonnaise all the way down his trousers and onto his shoes without even noticing as he tucked into his greasy burger. And to round off the night's entertainment, a dumb blonde, in a very short skirt boasted to a brunette she'd just met, in an equally short skirt, that she was so good looking that she had had photos taken and been told that she should be a model, to which the brunette scathingly replied, 'Did you pay for the photos though?'
As I was sitting next to the brunette, I had to try really hard to hide my laughing fit when the blonde replied in a confused tone, 'No, well yeah I did pay for them but they did say I should be a model!' 1 - 0 to the brunette I think.
So, yeah, that's what Wrexham looks like on a Saturday night after Wales beat England in the rugby and the first paychecks since Christmas have been cashed.

In a few weeks, I'll get to compare the social habits of the Aussies with my existing catalogue of reference. Something tells me that nothing will beat that cab office though. I mean, that was a sitcom/documentary waiting to happen a la Fawlty Towers and it all happened. You can't make that stuff up. It wouldn't surprise me if there was a hidden camera in there and it was a set up it was so ridiculous. Which is a lot less likely now that Jeremy Beadle has gone to the real Purgatory or wherever (don't worry, no more theology).

Speaking of pranks, I think I gave some old dears a heart attack earlier today when my mate Nick snuck up behind me in work and jabbed me in the ribs when I had no idea he was there. My very loud and ladylike scream of 'JESUS CHRIST!' would have made my grandmother proud no doubt, God rest her soul.
Oh well, I've only got 8 shifts to go now (with no breaks till my last day, thank you very much boss!) so I suppose it doesn't really matter if I offended anyone, they probably won't see me again. I'm sure they'll get over it. So I'm leaving behind the relative security of employment and my friends and family and am off on an Australian Odyssey (via China, New Zealand and Japan). Off course I'm very excited, but also getting more and more nervous by the day. The problem is at the moment I'm busy focusing on what and who I'm leaving behind rather than what I'm going to gain.
Then again, the more miles I put between myself and that taxi office the better. Waahey, nerves solved, where's my ticket? I'm off!