Bute Park lock-down

When Clare left for her study group, I went out, charged with finding some red candles for our Advent table wreath. I couldn't find anything suitable in the Cowbridge Road shops, but on the way back called into Beti Biggs, a small boutique, on Romilly Crescent, not far from home and found exactly what I had been looking for. It's not a shop I've ever been in before, specialising in small gifts and things and glitter at this time of year. I though it might have closed for goof during lock-down but it bounced back, which is encouraging to hear.

I cooked lunch in time for Clare's return, then went into town to buy Christmas cards for sending with our annual newsletter, which I have yet to write. Bute Park, apart from the east west cycle route is closed to pedestrians and cyclists, as the arboretum zone is being used for the illuminated night walk - pay to enter. This will not be a popular move though it's within the Council's rights to allow this disruption, as it's not public realm in the sense that streets are. It forces a change to people's everyday routines however, obliging many to walk further than they can or wish to. We wait to see if this initiative covers the cost outlay, and if not, who picks up the bill.

Winter Wonderland in front of the Museum and City Hall is now a fun fair including a ski slope, and is extended to Castle grounds, given over to a skating rink under a large tented canopy, with an open air extension in the form of a circular piste. In the middle of the enclosure are the four light sculptures of reindeer which in previous years were installed on the grass in the castle moat. All the refreshment stalls are inside the Castle walls now and there are just the usual coloured table benches. I guess outdoor drinkers from the hostelries on the other side of Castle Street can sit there, if they are willing to take their lives into their hands crossing the way where two way traffic reigns once more. I think this Winter Womderland was set up like this last year, but covid restrictions prevented it coming into use. 

In the evening I watched another episode of 'Crossing Borders' on My5 catch-up. It's another euro-crimmie showcasing an elite international team of detectives working on cross border crimes. It's rather idealised, in representing people with different policing cultures, jurisdiction hopping without upsetting the status quo, but the bad thing about it is that the key actors all speak English. The difference between their mother tongues has almost no impact on their accents. There's hardly foreign language speech, so it's subtitle free, and hardly any misunderstandings. A low budget series evidently.

Jazz feast

Another damp grey day, but after lunch I made an effort to walk into town, and take photos of the latest changes to the layout of the public realm areas of Castle Street. The road closure still continues, although the sheltered dining area down the middle has now been removed. The carriageway has been narrowed, with one complete lane turned into a raised yellow coloured pavement extension on the side where there are several pubs. The same is happening in Westgate Street too outside licensed premises, so that chairs and tables can be laid out for outdoor drinkers. Indoors, everyone has to be seated, so making a properly delineated space where people can stand or sit in the street makes sense. Heaven help passing pedestrians.

This year's Winter Wonderland year end funfair has been relocated from the lawns in front of City Hall and the National Museum to the Castle interior and the open area in front. The grass is boarded over and cordoned with fencing, and there's a large bar/restaurant at the east end corner, all themed as an alpine ski village, with small chalets along the wall next to it, to provide sheltered dining and drinking spaces. It's all very nicely done. Inside the Castle are a selection of popular rides its been possible to make covid safe, plus a large fenced off oval with a raised walkway, which was intended to be iced over for skaters to use. A nice idea, but it failed understandably on health and safety grounds. Treating anyone who had an accident would be a nightmare in present circumstances for first responders.

I bought some packs of Christmas cards, then headed for home in the drizzle. I'm several weeks earlier in making a start on the annual round of festive greetings, although Clare was ahead of me by several days, and was ordering presents on-line when I got back. I began thinking about our annual family news letter, and spent the evening making a first draft, while watching music programmes on BBC Four. One was a contemporary re-take on the old Jazz 365 programme from the days of black and white 1970's TV telling the story of a British Jazz renaissance happening now, thanks to a community of young black musicians, male and female, mostly based in South East London. It was an amazing hour and a half of superb original music, innovative in combinations of style, cultural influences and use of instruments.

The music making was polished and adventurous, full of joyful energy. In the concert footage shown, the audience was on its feet dancing, participating with gusto, rather than still and silently attentive. It could have been a rave or a rock concert, and illustrates a big difference in the way jazz is appreciated today, and the audience for these performances are mostly teens and young adults. I recall reading an article on the new East London jazz scene a year ago. This is the first chance I've had to listen to the music. It was most impressive.

The programme following this was a documentary on the life and music of trumpeter Miles Davis told by several of his musical contemporaries, and using texts from his personal journal. So many pieces of his recordings played in between interviews I remember vividly, having heard them in my late teens at the home of our local scoutmaster, when I first became a fan of his. Love of Jazz ran in the family, even though we didn't have a record player that took LPs when I was growing up. When I was in Ibiza, Owain sent me a couple of Miles' albums in MP3 format, music unheard for fifty years. Tonight there was more of it, More joy, even though it meant going to bed later than usual.