Dydd Gwyl Dewi

Weather for our national Patron Saint's festival turned out right, blue skies, sunshine, fresh but not too cold, but it was misty when I rode my bike for the first time in 2012 across Llandaff Fields to the Cathedral. 

I needed to make contact with Cathedral Administrator, Michael Turk, about arrangements for a meeting next week  between staff and a team from the Royal British Legion organising a major anniversary concert in the Cathedral in September this year. Mission accomplished I joined the congregation for the eleven o'clock Eucharist, and sat next to Fr John Webber, who retired the same time as I did. It was good to catch up with him as I haven't seen him for several months.

Then I cycled into town in time to watch the end of the St David's Day parade on the Hayes. It was so full of revellers that  I had to make a big detour to get to the office, being unable to wheel my bike through the crowd, it was so dense.

In the parade were effigies of some renowned modern Welsh cultural heroes, with one historical, and to my mind ironic figure of Owain Glyndwr, whose army sacked Cardiff's Norman Castle and burned own the first St John's city church. The Welsh attacked foreign colonisers in those days, whereas nowadays outsiders are relied upon to invest in and enrich the city.

A good time was had by all. Tables were laid out and decorated for a street party down the middle of Trinity Street outside St John's, laid on for school children taking part in the parade. I understand there's a plan afoot to repeat this for the Queen's diamond jubilee.

Things were quieter later on when I left the office early to ensure I could ride home in daylight and in time to cook supper, so we could leave punctually for our usual Thursday evening engagements. As I was returning from parking the car in a neighbouring street (it was one of those evenings when sloppy parking had robbed the street of several regular spaces), young man from the corner house was standing in his front garden, mobile phone in hand, looking bemused. A severed bike lock cable hung from the railings. His bike was gone. 

All I could do was encourage him to report it to the Police, and recount the story of how my new bike's lock was severed by a thief with bolt cutters and taken from St John's churchyard in broad daylight in front of people sitting out eating and drinking. Nicking a bike from the corner house next to the lane in darkness required somewhat less bravado to pull off. It's distressing and annoying. There is at least one thief known to Police who uses bolt cutters to steal bikes, caught and not charged on the grounds that evidence of carrying tools indicating an intent to steal was too flimsy to stand up in court.