A musical nation

Clouds and drizzle this morning, and it's ten degrees cooler than yesterday. When I went down to breakfast I was surprised to find that instead of Saturday pancakes, Clare had cooked waffles to a vegan recipe for a change. They were delicious, and destined to become a firm favourite, I think.

Later, we went for a walk through Bute Park and had a snack lunch at the Secret Garden cafe. Thankfully the drizzle held off, so we didn't get wet. There was a man with a lively dog in the cafe. The hound was dragging a large stick of dead wood around, which made a conspicuous noise when dropped. It stood by the doorway, occasionally picking up and dropping the stick. Then it would take a few steps back, looking eagerly for a response from its master, absorbed in his phone and drinking coffee. This attention seeking behaviour was reproduced at least half a dozen times in ten minutes, each time the hound took a few steps nearer until it reached its master's feet and started whimpering to get attention. An impressive fear of persistent nagging, even though it fell on deaf ears!

The cloud cover remained low, and though it threatened to rain again after morning showers, it didn't. We then went to the summer fayre in St Catherine's church grounds. All the usual stalls and activities, were there and the place was busy with a steady stream of visitors. An event that's a credit to the congregation. We had some strawberries without cream, and a go on the bottle staff. Clare won a can of coffee flavoured stout branded by Guinness. Neither of us fancied it, so I surreptitiously returned it for someone else to win and then won a can of quite strong IPA, but no lucky wine wins this time. I did buy a jar of plum jam and a fresh one of churchyard blackcurrant jam to replace the one I'm slowly savouring at the moment from last autumn's fayre. You can't have enough blackcurrant jam, in my estimation!

Clare then went down to the Castle for the annual Tafwyl festival, featuring some top Welsh language singers, including singer songwriter Meinyr Gwilym of whom she's a fan. I went home, and cooked us a pasta meal using the butter beans Clare cooked yesterday. I was pleased with the result, and only needed to cook the pasta when Clare arrived home after the performance. After supper we watched on S4C this year's Welsh national youth choir competition. There were some stunning performances from choirs up to fifty strong. Such vital energy, discipline, enthusiasm and musicianship. One of the judges, an Italian musical maestro I think, speaking in English, praised the uniqueness of Wales' choral music culture. All this with Sir Tom Jones and the Stereophonics singing tonight at the Principality Stadium. "Praise the Lord, we are a musical nation", as the Reverend Eli Jenkins said in Dylan Thomas' Under Milk Wood.

We have the first of three Inspector Montalbano episodes on BBC Four over the next fortnight. The first two are re-runs of the last available episodes. The third is the last ever Montalbano story, of the thirty six. It was made into a movie after the death of his creator Antonio Camillieri, who wouldn't let it be published while he was alive. That way the authentic character dies with him. A unique inimitable body of work. The mixture of sadness and humour, with vignettes exposing the poverty and corruption which still plague Sicilian life is portrayed in a most thought provoking way. The wait to see how it all ends for Montalbano will not be easy - like waiting for a friend to die. The story teller who can generate such a bond between his characters and audience is a true maestro with words.