Digital housekeeping

Cloudy with occasional light showers until late afternoon. Up at eight making breakfast. Mid-morning I walked to Lidl's in Leckwith. It's only a mile and a half, but it's an unpleasant walk alongside roads with much traffic. We needed to stock up on fruit and walnuts. In addition I bought a bottle of Spanish white wine to try. It's from Vadlepeñas, made with the Airén grape. Lunch was ready for me when I returned - a mackerel fillet with spuds and carrot. 

Afterwards, I walked to the coach station to get our tickets to Bristol airport a week today. Unfortunately for me the usual booking clerk wasn't in attendance, but there was another staff member, well versed in helping travellers in using the automatic ticket machine, which works much the same as booking from the website on line. The system is efficient and devoted to purchasing tickets, not to dealing with enquiries,  which was the reason I came in person to ask questions before booking. I found it difficult to explain to the kind man who was operating the ticket machine for me, and ended up not getting an open ended ticket for the return journey just in case our late flight was even later arriving home. 

We have an hour and ten minutes from landing to get through passport and baggage reclaim and then down many flights of steps outside, leading to the coach station. It's possible if the flight is on time, which is a gamble. A taxi to Cardiff is as expensive as a short night at the Holiday Inn nearby. The alternative is a three hour wait in the small hours, and booking another ticket, as the ones I bought with aren't changeable. This I could have done if there'd been a booking clerk on duty.

When I got back, I made a copy of the ticket for Clare and a digital version for my Google Wallet, as the driver can scan the QR code with his phone to verify the booking. This works quite well. With all the copies of documents needed for our cruise travelling in convenient paper and digital form, I remembered that I did my tax return but didn't tidy up by transferring a copy of the completed form and submission receipt to my workstation archive. I made the return on my Chromebook, downloaded files and left them to deal with later. I copied them to a flash drive for the move, rather than copying them to the Cloud, so I have a redundant copy on a handy physical device. Convenient when off-line. thanks to a useful flash drive with a USB-C interface that plugs into my phone. Although I've used free Cloud storage since the early days when it was available and don't need to pay for extra, I feel it's important not to rely on it, and keep copies of all I've created on physical devices as insurance against on-line data loss or lockout.

Once that small task was done I tidied the photo files I use for Morning Prayer videos as many of them had been duplicated inadvertently at some time in the past year for no reason I can understand. It's a fiddly job, which needed doing to facilitate file selection. When I finished doing that I joined Clare watching the Eisteddfod Dawns werin performances on S4C, all the way up to bed time.

Welsh pride in RCT

Another damp and cloudy day. After breakfast I walked under my brolly to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. We were nine at the service, anticipating tomorrow's Feast of the Death Blessed Virgin Mary. After coffee and a chat, I went to collect this week's veggie bag from Chapter Arts. On the way I called into the phone shop on the corner of Severn Road to get a diagnosis of its condition. A replacement screen will solve the problem after all I was told, so I left it with their expert repairer, the same guy who replaced the screen eighteen months ago, and replaced the screen on a Samsung phone I had several years ago. I didn't mind the fact that it would take until the end of the day for the job to be done. Six hours off line. A mini holiday.

Then I went to Tesco's to buy food bank groceries and took them to St John's, open Wednesdays midday for the Eucharist instead of Thursday now. The service was half way through, so I slipped in, deposited my offering in the collection basket and left pleased to see that congregation numbers are undiminished by the change of day. By the time I got home Clare had lunch ready. Tofu burgers today.

I started making next week's Morning Prayer video slideshow after lunch, but didn't record the audio until later, as I needed to go out and collect my phone. It wasn't ready when I arrived, as the repair guy was waiting for a screen he ordered to arrive. The Moto screen 6.5" specification is slightly different from the more common Samsung one it seems. I went home and carried on with recording and editing audio to fit with the slide show I prepared earlier. I collected my repaired phone just after six, and was only charged £65 for the job, the same as I paid 18 months ago, would you believe it?

After supper, an impressive and diverse programme on S4C reviewing the activities of the week at the Eisteddfod in Pontypridd. Such a rich diverse celebration of Welsh culture and creative arts. The first ever female Archdruid, Meredydd Hopwood, made a big impression inhabiting the role with creative confidence, tweaking traditional ritual formalities in the way that won approval. Several literary prize winners turned out to be Rhondda Cynon Taff locals, one of them the youngest chief bard in the history of the Eisteddfod. 

It's a traditional all age festival in every sense. What's amazing is the high proportion of young people attending as well as participating. Thanks to fifty years of developing Welsh language education and schooling, Welsh language pop music culture has a big enthusiastic following and the future of the language in everyday use more secure than it has been in more than a century of rural depopulation and decline. Something to be proud of. We may well see that decline reversed with so many Welsh speakers now living in urban areas.

 

Pontypridd welcomes National Esteddfod

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.

Eisteddfod in Pontypridd next year!

A little warmer and sunnier today, but hardly high summer weather. Housework after breakfast, then I got to work on a biblical reflection for next week's Morning Prayer. Clare was visiting so I cooked lentils with veg and rice for lunch. An hour dozing in the chair afterwards, then I went for a walk in the park taking in the west bank woodland path, where I saw a Red Admiral, moving took quickly to photograph, but then a Speckled Wood butterfly, which settled long enough for me to take this picture.

I sat for a while on a bench by Blackweir bridge, to inspect my butterfly photos. I was joined by an older man dressed in hiking garb, carrying a rucksack. I thought his speech was slightly slurred when he noticed my camera and enquired about the picture I was looking at. Then he produced a bottle of South African Malbec wine, opened it and proceded to swig from it. We chatted about nature for a while, then parted company. Was he homeless? Or just lonely, consoling himself as he walked around from wherever he stayed? 

After supper, I spent a couple of hours reading 'La Sombra del Viento', occasionally glimpsing tonight's S4C National Eisteddfod programme on the Chairing of the Bard. Delighted to learn that next year's Eisteddfod is going to be held in Pontypridd, which is wonderful news, as we'll be able to travel there and back by train. By this time next year hopefully, electrification of the Taff Vale railway line will be complete and the new Metro trains will be running even more frequent services, as intended. Handling huge numbers of travellers for a major visitor event will be a quite a resilience test for upgraded rail infrastructure. Here's hoping it's a success.

Meanwhile, early bed.

The English Professor T

More clouds with intermittent sunshine and cloudbursts today with the occasional spell of strong gusts of wind. A new challenge for me this Sunday morning, having to get up early enough to be out of the house and walking down to St John's to preach at the nine o'clock Eucharist, celebrated by Fr Rhys, streamed on line from Andrew's iPhone, with a little help from my Blackberry providing a wi-fi hotspot, something his partner Martin's phone usually does, but today he and his phone were over in Germany visiting his mother.

I then walked  to St Catherine's to preach there while Fr Rhys celebrated, and also sang in the choir, as did Clare. Before we went home for lunch we had a choir practice for Wednesday's funeral, so all in all it was a busy morning. Even more so for Fr Rhys who had then to officiate at a Christening at one thirty. It's the kind of workload which us clergy would have taken in our stride a few years back, but covid safety disciplines in celebrating any public service seem to make it that much more demanding than routine used to seem. 

Church restrictions will be phased out now that Wales is down to level zero, but a legacy of tension and uncertainty still exists. Between the two Eucharists we ministered to fifty people this morning, half of what it would have been before covid. Will all the missing people return eventually? Will some be content to attend mostly on line, while others find other things to do on Sunday mornings, as have three quarters of the church attending population at the turn of the century?

After lunch an hour sound asleep on the front room sofa after doing my daily DuoLingo exercises, then a bracing walk in Llandaff Fields, thanks to the strong wind, then another short walk  around Thompson's Park with Clare after she surfaced from her siesta. It's good not to feel exhausted by getting up early. After supper we watched the on-line Eisteddfod Cymanfa Ganu, with its socially distanced congregation, choir and musicians on stage. I don't think it was in any sense a live broadcast, but an edited recording of hymns sung by the congregation, and items performed by the choir, singers and band on stage. A worthy effort, but it wasn't moving emotionally speaking. The event was produced using an open air stage, so it lacked the atmosphere of being situated in a church building or even in the Eisteddfod's marquee 'y pabell binc'.

I then watched an episode of the ITV production of 'Professor T', which I had presumed would be a run of the 2015-2018 Flemish crimmie series on mainstream telly, but turns out to be an all new Engish edition, set in Cambridge with an uptight English version of the eccentric academic genius. It's certainly credible, well conceived and watchable if you haven't seen the original, but I watched all thirty nine episodes, a couple of years ago, and am familiar with the whole story and its plethora of plot-lines. Will it run for that long, or will it be edited down to a more suitable length for a prime time Sunday TV series - these rarely run for more than six episodes. 

There's a sixteen episode German rendering of the Professor T series. Does this edit or condense the narrative? I don't know, but I'm intrigued to see if this series will be limited to six episodes. I found the Flemish production very watchable, despite or maybe because of sub-titles which did more than just translate dialogue, helping to watcher to appreciate what the Professor was talking about, as he theorised about crimes and victims. If you miss any of the dialogue in this English version you might be robbed of plot insight. 

Also the comedic side of the Flemish series made hilarious use of non-verbals and some superb acting, by Koen de Bouw as the Prof and Goele Derick as his long suffering secretary. They set the bar very high. The English series has the brilliant Francis de la Tour as the Prof's eccentric aged mother  and comedian Ben Miller as the Prof, who also starred in 'Death in Paradise' which may work against him, as that role was a straight detective part. I'm more interested to see how he develops the character he plays than the individual plots, already familiar. I felt the Flemish series gave some good insight into the suffering of mental illness and trauma. 

Gourmet anniversary

Despite rain overnight and early clouds, the sun broke through and shone brightly mid morning, a most welcome enhancement on this feast of Christ's Transfiguration, our fifty-fifth wedding anniversary. Clare received a congratulatory text message from Amanda by breakfast time. 

We drove to Penarth Marina to see if we could get a table for lunch. Last night I went to book one on the La Marina restaurant website, but was disturbed to find that full card details including the security number on the back were required to obtain a booking, so proceded no further. Although the page in question states the card details are stored in a secure location, there's no way of vetting its security credentials. No way of knowing it's not open to hacking, or a scam. Anyway we arrived at midday and able to book a table for one without any problem.

La Marina is located inside the restored 19th century Custom House building, and has a table capacity of around a hundred. It has an authentic Spanish ethos with an ordering counter where you can see the meat or fish to choose from on display, next to the kitchen. The service was good and the food excellent. Clare had grilled asparagus and swordfish, I had fish soup, the best I have ever tasted, and huge piece of tender belly pork with caramelised onions - plus perfectly cooked veg. A feast worthy of the celebration.

We walked along the cliff top afterwards in a strong breeze, thankfully not too cool, then headed home, thinking that our next family feast in Cardiff must be at La Marina.

This evening we watched the on-line National Eisteddfod ceremony for the chairing of this year's bard. It's the poetry competition in which ancient strict rules of poetic form are the medium for expression of the chosen theme - this year, 'Awakening'. Gwenallt Llwyd Ifan was the winner. Coincidentally, he is the chair of the Tregaron Eisteddfod committee which was meant to host last year's event, cancelled due to covid, It's hoped that Tregaron will be able to host the next Eisteddfod in summer 2022, an event to look forward to in whatever shape it takes in the 'new normal'.

Sacred waters

An overcast start to the day with sunshine breaks and inconvenient showers. I was interested to hear on this morning's 'Thought for the Day' that the Cardiff Sikh community has engaged with Llandaff Rowing Club to establish a waterside pontoon, not only for the use of rowers, but also for the use of bereaved Sikh families wanting to ceremonially dispose of cremated remains in the river Taff, adapting the traditional custom of Punjabi Sikhs using one of the five sacred rivers of their native land. 

Llandaff weir is just above the point in the watercourse once reached by salt water at high tide, a sacred site in pagan culture, and a place where Christian monks would naturally choose to establish a mission. I wonder if the Sikhs were aware of the ancient significance of the place? The London born speaker said he wanted his ashes to be cast on Thames water one day - just like my sister June! The environmental impact is negligible. Let's hope it'll be received with good-will by all others for whom rivers are special.

I uploaded today's Morning Prayer link before breakfast then went to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist with eight others before some preparatory work on next Thursday's Morning Prayer, commemorating Ann Griffiths. Clare cooked lunch, then we both had a siesta - me sitting in an armchair, out like a light for an hour. It's strange that I should be sleeping naturally for two hours more than previously. When I'm awake and active I don't feel physically tired, I'm sharp and concentration is good. I feel like I'm losing a couple of hours each day at the moment, but all I can do is go with the flow, and enjoy the occasional interesting dreams I recall but can make no sense of.

At lunchtime we received a WhatsApp message and photo from Kath and Anto in Santa Pola, after their arrival for a three week holiday without travel difficulties. Who knows what re-entry regulations will be in place for doubly vaccinated travellers from Alicante by the time they return.

I got wet when walking in the park before supper, and wet again returning from church this evening. We went to choir practice tonight at St Catherine's and prepared music for Sunday, and for Carole's funeral next Wednesday. Some of the music rehearsed is fairly familiar, which helps in regaining my confidence at sight reading. A music problem I do have is being unable to read lyrics which tend to be printed in a font too small for my worsening eyesight. I think I need a headlamp as well as specs on times. 

Once more we watched a S4C programme about awards at this week's on-line National Eisteddfod. For the second time this week, author Lleucu Roberts has won a major literary prize for a prose essay. Earlier she won the prize for a novel she'd written. It's the second time in her career that she's won 'the double', as it's called. Quite a feat.

Two estate agents' signs have now gone up on the empty house next door to us. There have been a couple of visits already, and probably many more to come.

Eisteddfod - triumph over adversity

How good to awaken to blue sky and sunshine another day, a perfect summer morning. After breakfast I drove to St German's to celebrate the ten o'clock Mass with half a dozen regulars. I tried an alternative route around the city centre, to avoid traffic congestion generated by the Tudor Street traffic lights. It's only five minutes longer, better than taking nearly half an hour for a fifteen minute trip.

Today marks the Church of England celebrates St Jean Vianney Curé d'Ars, but not so in the Church in Wales calendar. I wonder why? I'd love to have been a fly on the wall in the committee when the revision of the calendar of saints was discussed, to know the reason for omitting this rather unusual 19th century holy man whose preaching and spiritual guidance touched thousands who visited him in Ars, a village at the west end of the French Jura during his ministry there. I visited Ars when we lived in Geneva 140km away. It's a special place for clerics as St Jean Vianney is patron saint of parish priests.

Ars was the only parish he ever served, perhaps he was sent to that rural backwater because his bishop didn't know what to do with him. He was a doubtful candidate for ordination as he was barely literate and needed coaching to take services in Latin. Thus, he had little 'book knowledge', but he did have an understanding of the meaning of the Gospel and the life of the Spirit to apply to the pastoral care of his flock that enabled him to reach the hearts of many.

Because this was so unusual his life was simply understood as filled with extraordinary supernatural gifts. By their fruit they are recognised, but I think there's something more to take note of here. A barely literate son of peasant stock, may have no access literary culture, but his intellectual life is steeped in oral culture and transmission of scripture, tradition and reason in a way that has been discounted by mainstream religious culture. This was common in ancient times, and still happens in some parts of the world today, where spontaneous evangelisation has spread the Gospel and planted the church by oral transmission. The hunger for literacy and introduction of the text of scripture occurred as a result of the message already being heard and understood. I wonder if and how this is working in our strongly audio visual contemporary culture?

On return from church I cooked lunch, and after a siesta walked for an hour and a half in the park. While writing, I listened to Evensong on BBC Sounds catch-up. The setting of the responses by Rose used by the choir of Holy Trinity Sloan Square was one I learned in Geneva, and one I love. It was uplifting to hear it, and some modern Latin canticles and unusual Psalm chants. Anglican church music has a long a rich tradition and is very much alive creatively speaking, in our time.

Ruth emailed next week's Morning Prayer texts as she routinely does in good time. My day next week is one when the Church in Wales celebrates the life of Ann Griffiths, the eighteenth century North Walian whose religious poetry and hymnody in the Welsh language is new regarded as among the finest in any European. She was a Welsh Calvinistic Methodist, a renewal movement with a devotional life of its own that distinguished it from English, Scottish and Irish expressions of reformed Presbyterianism. The Psalm set for next Thursday is too long, repetitive and dull, so I am going to use some of Ann's hymn verses instead, translated into English. They are steeped in the imaginative use of biblical imagery from both Hebrew and Christian scripture, so why not?

After supper Clare and I watched another on-line National Eisteddfod programme on S4C. This covered the festive ceremonial chairing and crowning of this year's bard Dyfan Lewis whose cycle of poems was a celebration of the city of Cardiff. This annual event has never taken place outside of the Eisteddfod Maes (field). Last year's Eisteddfod was cancelled due to coronvirus, but there were concert performances on-line. There's been a programme of competitions on-line this year. 

Tonight's bardic ceremony with a reduced socially distanced gorsedd wearing masks matching the colour of the robe, processed from Central Square into the new BBC Wales building where the whole ceremony was performed live to camera, except for a brief video of Dyfan Lewis secretly recorded beforehand, speaking about his work. 

It worked amazingly well as a television event, authentic in spirit and in detail, apart from the absence of a group of cute children dancing. I liked what the Archdruid said in his opening remarks "Tonight thanks to television, the whole of Wales is the Eisteddfod Maes." I felt utterly proud to be Welsh, even if my grasp of the language is poor.

S4C shines

 Another lovely summer day to rejoice in. Pancakes for breakfast, then a walk together around the Fields and down to Blackweir, where the sun's angle made the waters of the Taff sparkle. We sat on a bench for ten minutes and enjoyed the moment. A dutiful heron stood on the opposite side of the island of pebbles in the river, neck completely outstretched ready to spot and catch a passing fish. It was a long way away but the photo I took at almost full zoom length wasn't blurred as they often are. Not surprising really as the auto focus shutter speed was 1/320, as it was so bright.

After lunch in the garden we took a siesta, then I went down to the local shops for a few items each of us needed. In Tesco's I found a bottle of Reinhessen Pinot Noir one of Clare's favourites and mine, rate to see on a supermarket shelf here. The last time we drank a glass of this was on our 2018 Rhine Cruise in Rudesheim. We haven't spent a great deal of time in Germany over the years, just a handful of visits, but drinking a glass the country's Pinot Noir in particular hold special memories of those times.

Although the garden was in shade, it was warm enough to eat supper outdoors. We have been blessed with many more healthy looking roses than usual this year and abundant flowers of different kinds that are well frequented by bees and cabbage white butterflies. The runner beans which Clare planted in pots and in a corner of the flowerbed are growing tall and flowering nicely. A solitary sparrow it seems has taken up residence and sings from the climbing rose bush which covers the other side of the garden wall trellis. For once in my life I'm not restless and content to be just where I am.

We watched a concert on S4C recently recorded concert as lock-down restrictions were eased. This year's National Eisteddfod moved entirely on-line. This concert was arranged in place of the final gala event I believe. Performers were all socially distanced, singers on stage and backing musicians under separate stylish open sided tents. The swinging Llaregub brass ensemble stood well spaced in the open simply choreographed and uniformed like a carnival marching band. Excellent performances, a handful of them done via video not recorded on site, with several numbers from Bryn Terfel to finish off with. It was an outstanding S4C production technically and content-wise, and deserves far wider recognition than it will probably get, as it's all in Welsh.

Two continuity presenters were scripted with poetic links between performances. Apart from 'memory lane' numbers many of the songs seem to have been written, certainly during lock-down, if not for this particular concert. It held together seamlessly as a production, and was really impressive with thoughtful content. I was struck by the expression of spiritual longing and searching, with mentions of God. A setting of the Benedictus from the Ordinary of the Mass was sung, and that was the only church/religious item to be included. Wales may now be a largely secular society, but its creatives are still looking above and beyond themselves for hope and meaning.

Afterwards I went out to stretch my legs and get some fresh air before bed. Some people were still sat on the grass chatting in the twilight under a clear blue sky as the stars came out.

National Eisteddfod at Abergavenny

Yesterday was a day of catching up with Rachel and Clare, washing, updating computers after two months away. I also went into the office to catch up with Ashley, and be issued with a new Blackberry PRIV office mobile phone. It's another of these big Android phones, with the added bigness of a neat slide out keyboard. I'm not sure how I am going to get on with this. It goes with our BT business account package that we have upgrades every eighteen months whether or not this is really needed, and they don't do more of the same, so it means getting used to a new device whether you want to or not. 

Today, all tech stuff went on hold, as the three of us joined the Menter Iaith coach to go to the Welsh National Eisteddfod, held in Abergavenny for the first time in over a hundred years. The Maes was in the riverside meadow parkland, and was very busy indeed. Two hundred and fifty exhibitor spaces for business and charities were all taken up. Instead of the Pafilion Binc circus tent housing the main stage for concerts and competitions, a new simple aluminium boxy structure purpose built, accommodating an audience of two thousand, acoustically superior, and affording great views of the stage from every side.

I was passing by the churches' tent, just as Morning Prayer was about to start, so I stopped and joined in. Fr Mark Soady, the Vicar of St Mary's Priory church in the town shared in the service with two others I didn't recognise. Isaiah six was read and reflected upon in Welsh by a woman Minister, and I was able to follow most of what she said, about the love for stories, the Word of God and the calling to tell the Word. I was reminded of Welsh non-conformist preaching I occasionally heard in my youth. It's a key theme, in a culture with such a love for words. I used to think this was over emphasised, but the older I've got, and the more I've experienced the devaluation of of language as a dark negative force working against linguistic variety and creativity, the more I have entered into this side of my religious heritage. I don't think I was born to be a preacher or an orator, but life in ministry has made this a part of me and my calling to interpret the Gospel in whatever way opens up to share.

This year's other innovation was the introduction of bi-lingual signage and daily programme schedules. This has been met with misgivings by the 'Cymraeg yn unig' diehards, but it has meant that many more monoglot English speakers from both sides of Offa's dyke have come to visit, and, most imnportantly have been delighted by the experience. This must be one of the world's richest festivals of culture in terms of its variety of media and performances, and the age range of participants. There's no doubt that the Eisteddfod movement builds and nourishes a stronger sense of community and identity. 

The sense of place, and the value of each and every place in Wales, together with love for its many landscapes, encourages care for the environment. Waste management facilities across the site were well organised, and the litter picking team employed had almost no work to do. To be at an open air event with tens of thousands an hour eating takeaway food from disposable plates and drinking from paper cups or plastic bottles, and the ground is litter free, is a remarkable testimony to Eisteddfodwyr. Litter strewn streets after public events or beaches, or country picnic areas is symptomatic of the loss of shared values now plagues society, making life more insecure and less safe than it needs to be, for the health of all. 'Without a vision the people perish' said the writer of the Book of Proverbs. With a shared vision, people flourish. When will the world learn?

    

A day at the Eisteddfod

Yesterday, Clare and I were both looking forward to joining the coach organised by Menter Iaeth Caerdydd for the journey to the Welsh National Eisteddfod, this year located in a park beside the Millennium Coast Path between Llanelli and Burry Port. We were so keen we turned up an hour early at the Mochyn Du pub near Sofia Gardens to catch the coast. Both of us had forgotten things at home, so we jumped on a bus and went back home for the spare hour, and then returned at the correct departure time.

We arrived at lunchtime and wandered around the 'Maes', and I went off site to explore the area with my camera in addition. The coastal path runs alongside the railway line linking Swansea to Fishguard just inside the sea defences. At this point, you look out and across to the north shore of the Gower Peninsula across the golden sands of the Loughour/Llwchwr Estuary. This has got to be one of Wales' best journeys, whether by rail, by bike or simply walking, different at every stage in the tidal cycle. We must return and explore properly another time.

 I met a few people I knew wandering around the 'Maes', watched the Cornish bagpipe band perform on the open air stage and generally loitered, enjoying the atmposphere. Clare spent most of her time in the 'Pabell Binc', the large lurid coloured circus tent that serves as a well equipped competition arena seating 2,500 people. 

 At four, she texted me to come quickly and take the seat she'd acquired for me to watch the Chairing of the Bard ceremony. I've seen it on TV, and as a teenager took part in an English language version of the ceremony held annually in Pengam Grammar School. 

The national Chairing ceremony is a well staged and impressively theatrical event, that lends itself well to being televised, but the atmosphere of you're there in the flesh is an exhilarating experience of what it means to be Welsh. 

The sense of good will and respectful order that honours creatively gifted people is something to rejoice in. The revealing of the Bard whose poem earns the most prestigious of chairs in Welsh society is nicely theatrical and a genuine surprise to all but the few judges. I was so glad finally to have witnessed it at first hand. Here's Bard Ceri Wyn Jones being applauded out of the Pabell Binc.

We had supper in the main restaurant on the 'Maes', resplendent with home grown food and home made recipes. Dudley Newbery, Wales' own Welsh language celebrity TV chef, known by all by his first name only, was the guest of honour for the evening - but, in typical Welsh fashion he wasn't presiding at a top table or giving a speech, but there with his crew serving up food to the hungry masses coming out of the 'Pabell Binc' after the Chairing ceremony. We had the fish dish, which I'm sure I've seen him preparing in one of his TV shows. His Welsh language equivalent of the TV series Masterchef is worth a watch whenever it appears. You don't have to be able to understand what's said. The cuisine and the relationships between participants all speak of themselves and have quite a different feel to their counterparts in English or other languages.

After supper, we spent the last couple of hours of our visit watching first the clog dance and then the choral competition finals in the 'Pabell Binc'. 

 By this time most of the scores of pavilions had closed for the night. The remaining hive of activity was the rock concert down at the other end of the site on 'Maes B', the home of Welsh popular culture (as opposed to traditional culture). By the time we walked to our coach in the moonlight just before ten, the distant strains of 'Mae hen wlad fy nhadau', the Welsh National Anthem could be heard in the distance. Not for the first time today.

 More photos here.

 

New cheese discovery

Three services to take in the Parish this morning. First, the eight o'clock and then the nine fifteen at St John's, followed by a dash up to St Catherine's for the ten thirty. It was good to find I could still do three in a row without feeling exhausted afterwards. We then went to the Riverside Farmers Market got get our week's veggies and came home with a another variety of cheese from our regular Caerphilly cheese maker, called Celtic Promise. This version uses the same basic product, but steeps it in white wine as part of the maturing process. It acquires a semi-soft creamy texture, and distinctive flavour, reminiscent of some Franco-Suisse Jura cheeses we discovered  when we lived there. What a treat!

After a late lunch and lazy afternoon, we walked our usual circuit around Bute Park before settling down to watch the opening Gymanfa Ganu of the National Eisteddfod, being held this year in Llanelli. We'll be visiting on Friday. I spotted Fr John Webber singing away in the gymanfa congregation. He too is doing locum duties here in Canton Benefice while the clergy are on holiday. Bishop Wyn of St David's gave the blessing at the end, in his characterstically concise manner. It was good to see him, albeit briefly. We were in St Mike's at the same time, forty five years ago.