Since I retired, Fridays seem to come around very quickly, I don't know why. Anyway I set off towards town as usual, using the 61 bus - the nearest to home, the most regular, frequent and usually less congested route. Clare insists there are more frequent buses from Llandaff Fields, and indeed there are, but I've waited up to fifteen minutes for a bus before a selection of them arrive within a short space. Admittedly the routes running through Llandaff are among the most congested and hard to manage in the City, and that, if anything, makes running buses to time less than predictable.
The other day, queuing in the car for the Llandaff crossroad with Western Avenue, to go to Maindy for a swim, I was outside Howells School entrance when a large SUV pulled out of the forecourt of a grand house opposite the school, cut across the traffic and drove in through the school entrance - a manoeuvre which halted the flow of traffic further. It didn't look like a delivery vehicle. To be charitable, the driver may well have been on an errand, en route elsewhere, maybe delivering a child with mobility difficulties to the school door, but I couldn't help wondering if that short journey was strictly necessary, not do-able on foot. In those congested conditions it can't be much of a time saver. It made me wonder. Yes, I know, I should get up earlier and ride the bike direct across Pontcanna fields when I go for a swim. I'd be more warmed up when I hit the water, and tireder afterwards - not that it matters, when you have so much free time.
Anyway, I digress. I walked across into Rectory Road just as the 61 bus was due. The bus had already left the stop, some 30 yards further on, and was stopped at a red light. I caught the driver's eye and begged him to let me on board, but my beseeching was in vain. Ah well, 12h27, just ten minutes until the next one. It arrived, not as scheduled at 12h37, but at 12h45, with another 61 directly behind it! No doubt there are rational explanations for this phenomenon, but essentially the legend lives on. What people say of public transport in most cities I've lived in, is justified by events. You wait for a bus that never comes, and just when you're about the give up, two come along at the same time.
I was mad with myself because it made me late for my washing up stint in St John's Tea Room, and the day promised to be busy with a lunchtime organ concert in church. I arrived to a scene of ordered chaos, that's the best way to describe it. There was a plumber with his head under the sink, people serving drinks and food as usual, with others standing around looking bothered and helpless. The sink blockage of the decade was being dealt with cheerfully by an ebullient wise-cracking guy called Ian. Then, I noticed the piles of unwashed dishes. Everything had ground to a halt while Ian did battle with bung of tea leaves and chunky soup particles somewhere down the maze of pipes between the sink upstairs, and the sewer.
Thankfully, the crisis was soon resolved, so I was able to set to work, and catch up on what I thought I'd missed, aided by the natural slow-down of clientele, siphoned off into church by the attraction of fine music. Fortunately, the Friday tea room team are all experienced at surmounting problems, working carefully and safely together. With all the food for serving prepared already, earlier in the morning, now stored outside the kitchen in cool cabinets, and a surfeit of of china to eat it off, there was no reason to close or turn customers away. But if Ian hadn't been able to clear the blockage, and dirty dishes had piled up to cover every surface in sight, it would have been a different matter. He works for the firm that services the church boiler twice a year. He could even remember the make and model number.
In the post this morning was a copy of the feasibilty study report researched for St John's on the possibility of geothermal heating. The most interesting piece of topical trivia is that St John's carbon footprint is estimated to be forty tonnes of carbon dioxide a year. I wonder how many trees that represents, in terms of compensatory planting? If every church, or every organisation with a large public building knew what their carbon footprint was, the possibility of acknowledging that figure in the running costs budget would become a reality. I say that, even though I am doubtful about carbon offset trading and the sharp practice associated with it. Well, I guess churches here could plant forests with church communities, in environmentally damaged third world regions. A new angle on what mission means today, for sure.
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