I walked into a betting shop in another part of Cardiff this morning and - while looking for the football betting slip - I was confronted by a woman.
'Have you got any I.D.?'
It would have made sense if she worked there but she didn't. I looked over at the cashier and she was giving me a 'she doesn't really work here' look.
I said I had identification - even though I didn't - because I wanted to see what she would do next. I opened up my wallet and pulled out a few cards, looked through them and announced that I 'left it at home'.
She then asked how old I was and I told her I was in my thirties and she commented on how good I looked for my age.
What the hell!?
Then again, I must be an Adonis compared to the regular cast of characters you would find in a betting shop.
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