In town on match day

Cold and cloudy again today. I got up late and woke up with a stiff neck, paying the price for working late. I'm trying an orthopaedic pillow at the moment, but it doesn't help much. Clare was up before me cooking pancakes for breakfast. I cooked garlic mushrooms for a savoury supplement. Then another daily haiku written after Morning Prayer. 

The postman came and handed over another TalkTalk router package. Not the return equipment mail bag I spent half an hour arranging to receive yesterday! Another half hour or so wasted contacting TalkTalk via their DM thread getting apologies and a further promise of mailbag delivery. Now I have two packages to return. Whatever part AI plays in this process, it's not doing well to deliver a satisfactory service. Or is it simply a case of human carelessness somewhere along the line?

While Clare was wrestling with an on-line cognition test, I went out and did some grocery shopping that took me longer than expected. Bathroom disinfectant was on the list. I had to visit four shops before I was able to find what was needed. Then I cooked lentils with veg for lunch. Her test showed that he's above average for someone of her age, despite short term memory problems.

I went out for a walk after we'd eaten, and headed towards town along the riverside path, mildly curious about the match day atmosphere in town. Wales playing England today. As I reached Sophia Gardens, I could hear the strains of the Welsh national anthem, coming from the loudspeakers of the Brewhouse pub and kitchen nearby, but not from the stadium a quarter of a mile away, which meant the roof was closed. I walked to Westgate Street closed for the match, and only then could the muffled roar of the crowd inside be heard. 

Scores of stewards in hi-viz jackets were standing around doing nothing. All the pubs were packed with people watching the game. The best place to find out the score was in tech' shop window screens showing the match to passers by in the rather quiet Saint David shopping centre. Nothing much has changed in the fifteen years since I was walking the city centre on match day, except there's less discarded food wrappers and drinks containers on the streets now. It's a sign that litter clean up teams are operating more effectively now than they did fifteen years ago. The post-match clean-up won't last so long, and may well cost less in Saturday overtime. 

As I started to make my way home before the match ended, spectators were already leaving the stadium with heads hung down. A sign that Wales was losing yet again. The seventeenth defeat in a row. As I was about to cross the bridge to Cowbridge Road East, Clare called to remind me about eating early before this evening's concert in the Cathedral. I had completely forgotten about this, distracted as I was by ambling down memory lane. I was within sight of two buses that passed me by, so I had to walk all the way home, but I made it in time to eat before we went out at dusk across Llandaff Fields under a cold clear sky, wondering which planets were the few bright lights we could see.

The Cathedral was packed. The concert was in aid of Gaza, featuring several local celebrity musicians I'd never heard of, apart from Charlotte Church and a couple of bi-lingual poets. One read a poem in Arabic Welsh and English translations,  the other whose name I did catch was the writer Meredydd Hopwood, who is currently Archdruid of the Gorsedd of Bards, the first woman to hold the office. Her single poem combined Welsh and English with perfect fluency. I understood enough of the Welsh to be aware of the continuity between them. It was a masterly exercise in bi-lingual creativity. She was the only one of the contributors I could understand, as the sound system was too loud, and the echo impaired audibility. 

Sadly, the sound environment, plus the poor enunciation of most of the contributors made speech and songs unintelligible. No, it's not my hearing. When our friend Mark duetted with a pianist he  often plays with, they were not amplified yet perfectly audible at the back when the audience quietened to listen. Still small voices.

We left before the end of the concert as it was bound to finish another half an hour later. Too late for us. I was pleased to buy a copy of Bishop Rowan's new Lent book from the Cathedral bookstall which was staffed during the concert. He's giving a talk about it at church this Wednesday evening. Despite the temperature being close to zero, the walk home under a nearly full moon was enchanting. I hadn't intended to walk ten miles today but I did and felt none the worse for it.  I can't remember when I last walked so far in one day.