Another cloudy start to the day, with the promise of showers. We decided this would be our day to visit the National Eisteddfod taking place in Ynysangharad Park Pontypridd. Mid-morning we took a 62 bus from Llandaff Fields to the bus station to catch the train. Much to our surprise Elizabeth, Manel and a friend were on the bus on the first stage of their different return journeys to Geneva. Elizabeth told us she would make the journey by coach rather than 'plane, and enjoy several leisurely days of travel across France. I'd love to do something like that, but don't know if I have the stamina nowadays. The bus was packed with people, perhaps because one had dropped out of schedule, but possibly because many were heading for the Eisteddfod like us.
When we arrived in Central Square we found it contained lines of crowd control barriers, obliging bus passengers to take one prescribed route to the station entrance. The area was already busy with people arriving for a Billy Joel concert in the stadium this evening, with road closures and bus diversions later in the day. We parted company with our friends chaotically as they sought to navigate their ways to different platforms in the face of passengers exiting the stations. After buying our tickets separately, Clare and I made our way to platform six for trains for the Taff and Cynon valleys to Aberdare and Merthyr Tydful. I saw a smart new Metro styled train and headed for it, assuming Clare was doing likewise as I lost sight of her in the crowd.
No sooner had the train started than she called me and asked where are you. I said the same to her. She was still on the platform waiting for the next train to arrive, and wouldn't believe that I was on a train going to Pontypridd. I was standing next to the train guard at the time and asked him to speak to Clare and convince her I was not going in the wrong direction! The train I'd got on was six minutes late departing. It also went in a different direction to the one Clare was waiting for. To keep it simple, the gateway station to the Taff and Cynon valleys is Radyr, at the north western edge of the city, and you can get there by trains going clockwise or anti-clockwise around the city network.
Train timetable display boards show the final destination but don't always indicate interim stations. This is potentially confusing for visitors unfamiliar with the local train map. It's not as confusing as the London Underground, but the potential for confusion is there, especially with bi-lingual place names. Public address announcements add to the confusion by giving interim stations, bilingually too. In fact, the train Clare caught ten minutes later as destined for Merthyr Tydful, also stopping at Pontypridd. As hers was on time, I only had to wait five minutes for Clare to catch me up. I try to recall how Switzerland's multi-lingual rail network conveys information, and whether or not it's as confusing.
The entrance to Ynysangharad Park is only ten minutes walk from the train station. An effective one way system to manage crowds of arriving and departing travellers was in place. There was a slow queue to buy day tickets for those who hadn't purchased on line, including us. Cash payments were not accepted, only cards. Managing physical money is expensive nowadays and less than secure. Financial security is individualised, and this doesn't work for those who don't own a debit card for forgot to bring one, mostly the poorest of the poor, who have no choice.
Anyway, just after eleven thirty we were admitted to a crowded Eisteddfod 'Maes' and wandered around trying to understand the layout. The main 'Pafilion' with seating for 1,800 and the main competition stage we found at the far end of the site, adjacent to the A470 bypass road. The constant background rumble of traffic wasn't the best possible environment, but the sound system delivered well.
Close by, an area with food stalls and places to sit, with an enclosure of scores of toilets next to it. We shared a box of fish and chips for lunch. Welsh Water not only provided a free public 'hydration station' but gave away water bottles to those who hadn't bought their own. Including us. The largest open area had several streets of booths showcasing every aspect of Welsh public services and creative culture imaginable, hundreds of them, with the Universities and broadcast media prominent. A huge open air stage hosted a male voice choir, a youth orchestra and a rock band at times when we were passing. There's a children's play area with the bonus of the park's unique open air swimming pool, very busy with children and adults.
Ponty Lido - wryly branded as being on the Taff riviera - opened in 1927, paid for by the Miners' Welfare Fund. It became less used and run-down, closing in 1991. Thanks to Heritage Lottery funding it re-opened in 2015, after a thorough restoration. It's a wonderful Art Deco period piece, and its modern publicity pays homage to that era of design.
We spent an hour after lunch in the 'Pafilion' listening to a competition of soprano soloists, and then one of Cerdd Dant female singing groups - beautifully harmonised trio and quartet renderings of improvised poetic lyrics accompanied by a harpist. It's one of the unique features of Welsh bardic tradition, and one of the highlights of the Eisteddfod. We came out for a breath of fresh air, but didn't return for the Chairing of the Bard ceremony, as a very long queue had built up outside.
We wandered around the site for a while, but began to run out of energy, so we decided to head for home. On the way out a live comic performance was taking place on the path. Three women in period piece swimming costumes cavorted around a kids' paddling pool to popular band music from the mid 20th century.
A humorous celebration of Ponty Lido's renaissance, and very timely too. Open-air swimming and the demise of many British public lidos has become an issue due to sewage pollution turning wild swimming into a health risk.
The train on which we returned was an old-fashioned diesel rail car refurnished for its final spell of service before giving away to the new generation of electric Metro trains. This took us on the route from Radyr which goes to Cathays and Queen Street station before end at Cardiff Central, the route taken by Clare's train this morning.
I wish we'd got off at Queen Street. Cardiff Central was crowded with arriving fans. The ticket gates were open to reduce congestion. I walked through and tossed my ticket into a bin as I passed, before realising travellers were being herded in queues along lanes to have them inspected 50m outside the station. No written notice or announcement was made at the ticket barrier to inform ticket holders to hang on to them for inspection outside. Many had digital tickets on their phones. We were caught in an event we weren't part of. It was presumed all travellers had previous experience of these arrangements. A remedy for confusion. I told the ticket inspector what I had done and complained about this, and was released without further consequence.
The bus station was closed, as was Westgate Street to all traffic. We crossed the river and took a 17 bus to Canton Cross and bought a few things from Tesco's before returning home. I cooked veg and pasta with chorizo for supper, then settled down for another episode of 'McDonald and Hobbs' to conclude a taxing day.
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