Rubbish and the Media

Twice last week I had calls from the Media Wales newsroom from journalists with questions that arose from their reading of this blog. One was concerned with the churchyard public art project, and the other with my last inventory of the rubbish left behind by big match day fans, and the invective I aimed at those who litter our streets and bring such disgrace to our City.

Sadly, the journos at 'Wales on Sunday' personalised the issue by naming the victorious Munster team, as if their supporters alone had been responsible for the mess, as if there had been no French or Welsh fans contributing to the rubbish in the streets and in the churchyard. Nothing that I wrote invited that conclusion. Anybody who can't make the effort to help keep our streets clean, no matter what their loyalty, race or religion, merits censure.

When a reporter from Munster radio station rang up the church today to ask for an interview, I explained that I couldn't be held responsible for the desire of the Media Wales editorial team to pick a fight with the Irish. Also they only published half my 'message to (all) fans', they requested a quote: "Please put your rubbish in the bins provided", omitting the other half of the 'message' "Or, if the bins are too full, take your empties and wrappings back to the place of purchase." Was that all too complex for the average reader to grasp?

Come on news gathers - help us on the front line out there to influence opinion and build consensus, by reflecting the real difficulties of the situation, and what this city is trying hard to achieve but not getting the support it deserves. I speak as one swift to criticise what isn't working for the benefit of all citizens.

Well guys and gals, if you're still reading me this week, here's a few more tid-bits to make you think.

Number one: Putting out giant additional rubbish bins on Big Match days has been deemed a no-no. They're a fire risk. No consideration given here to the frequency of rain on Big Match days. How comforting it would be for the rubbish collection crew to have most of of their material pre-gathered in targeted spots. It's 'health and safety' as an alibi. We have enough local CCTV cameras to be able to site any big rubbish bin in full view. We know from the speed the fire service responded to the O'Neill's pub fire across the road from the church, that an end can soon be put to dangerous incendiary moments. Streets are far more dangerous when people can slip and fall on plastic beaker splinters, turn an ankle on a can or bottle, or if really unlucky, get cut by a smashed glass bottle in the street - imported into the centre by fans from coaches or from outlying suburbs, unaware of danger they are discarding. The solution must lie as much with the rubbish creators (packaged food and drink providers and their clients), as with City services that sweep up after them. A little common sense wouldn't go amiss.

Number two: Half an hour after I was interviewed about rubbish on Friday afternoon, the City Centre night-time ops manager told me that a recent study by Prof John Shepherd of Cardiff University shows a reduction in reported violent crime at night of up to 30% at night, if streets are clean and clear, compared to streets from which neither rubbish had been cleared, nor day time tables and chairs removed. It's simple. A rubbishy environment encourages rubbishy behaviour. It's not just a matter for our valiant Police force or the City Cleansing team to take note of. They know! The dignity and worth of this City - old fashioned civic pride - matters greatly in my view. It marks the difference between civility and barbarism, between a City safe at night for ALL, not just some citizens.

This message is for the pub and club owners and restuaranteurs to take to heart. Don't keep pushing back the boundaries of by-laws intended to guarantee a stable and worthy environment for ALL citizens. In this present climate of 'tolerance' it seems as if the whole world assumes these things don't matter, that anyone who has no respect for the public realm can just do what they like in the City Centre playground and be anonymous, therefore immune from challenge or censure by day or by night.

The real problem is the lack of energy and commitment to enforce by-laws and accepted standards. If only life offered sufficient time to run through the City Centre CCTV camera footage, and pull out all those images of uncivil abuse, and broadcast them, maybe the indulgent would think twice. They wouldn't do those things at home - toss rubbish into their neighbour's or their granny's garden wherever they come from - would they? So why do it in Cardiff? The Capital City deserves better.

Anyway, thanks Media Wales for acknowledging the importance of the issue - even if you declined to report it 'my way'.

Seen from space - last year

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It's not hard to be a fan of Google Earth, but it was embarrassing to check out Cardiff as I did when the program was first distributed, in the summer of 2005, and find that much of the Bay was still a building site - no Millennium Centre, and brownfield sites where I knew there were apartment blocks. My esteemed predecessor's car was shown outside the Vicarage, and he'd already been retired and moved away three years by then.

I enquired of the Council if anyone knew why Google should show Cardiff as it was in 2000 during in its centenary year. Nobody knew. Did PR and Marketing know or care? Strange in such an image conscious city.

The 2000 Cardiff Google image persisted until a couple of weeks ago.

When I re-checked following a fresh install of Google Earth on a new computer on 16th October, There was no change. But, when I looked again tonight at last I found there'd been an update!

Now the Millennium Centre and the Senedd, as seen from space are visible for the world to see. However, if you move north to the city centre, Oxford House and the central car parks are still standing. Only the Ice Rink buildings have been demolished, dating the images to the last week of September 2006.

Why did it take so long to get Google's images of Cardiff up to last autumn? Will it ever be (nearly) up to date?

Il Travatore

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Another evening out at the Millennium centre for a Verdi extravaganza, occupying almost front row seats (discounted because you have the extra effort of looking up high to read the surtitles). It's not really my favourite opera, as it's a rather glum melodrama, with a fast paced last act that does little to exploit fully the melodramatic potential of the story. It's most memorable for the famed 'Anvil Chorus', which was taken on this occasion at quite a vigorous Italian pace by Carlo Rizzi and the WNO crew.

Wales' other favoured operatic son, Dennis O'Neill, sang the lead role of troubador flawlessly, with a mighty Italian soprano, Katia Pellegrino, his equal in excellence as the doomed heroine. The set was fashionably drab and minimalist, so it would have been fine just to sit and listen with eyes shut. However, if I'd done that, I would all to easily have slipped into a trance, and maybe ended up snoring - something that wouldn't go down too well sitting just in front of centre stage. So I made the effort and kept my attention on the rather limited action up front.

As a straightforward rendering of storyline in 'historical' context, (fifteenth century Spain) it was adequate but didn't offer a great deal to reflect upon. Transposing the scenario visually to a different context can be stimulating, as WNO has done with a production which sets Verdi's 'Rigoletto' in the world of modern gangsterism.

The bendy bus shuttle from City centre to the Bay worked perfectly for us in both directions. One big niggle, however, is the posh video screens on the bus. When stationary, the display shows views of all the doors and the street by the stop. On the move, sometimes BBC News 24 plays inaudibly, but when the system loses the signal it reverts to a looped promotional video made for the City's centenary in 2005. The new buses have been operational for over a year, and the video pre-dates the introduction of the buses. Far too much of it promotes eating out in Cardiff as if this was the only thing that ever happens. Well, maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea to show pictures of thousands of people staggering about getting drunk, but even a visual tour of the SD2 building site would be a bit more interesting than yesteryear's promotions.

Surely Cardiff can do better than that?

St John's-tide

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This year our Parish Patronal Festival of the Nativity of St John the Baptist falls on a Sunday. Not that this meant an increase of attendance for us today. We were just over thirty adults plus half a dozen children - few visitors for our main service. The ancient rhythm of celebration and prayer no longer figures as a significant feature in the lives of visitors to our city, any more than it does for people who inhabit the city, who for want of commitment to a particular community, float around from church to church, if they don't stay home. How do we win their loyalty?

It's marvellous that there are still devoted core communities of people, like ours wanting to continue worship in the traditional liturgical cycle, who come every week and not just as and when they feel like it. I'm grateful to have such people to continue in prayer with around the year. How I wish there were more of them !

I never fail to be struck by the fine quality of scripture reading during our services. When I sit and listen to the Word being read, often the very reading stimulates new insights into passages read - lectio divina, by any other name I know. I hope other congregation members feel as blessed as I do by simply listening to Scripture. It's one of those core activities of an Anglican congregation, something we almost take for granted. Every reader, by their intelligent rendering of the text takes part in the exposition of the Word. I wonder how many listeners appreciate something so simple and so powerful, rather than just take it for granted that things are simply done well.

St John Baptist preparing the coming of Christ - however our church goes about it, that's our role too. And it's more and more complex and challenging to accomplish in the face of the powerful secularist movements of our time.

How do we persuade people to be aware of, and relate to the source of their being?

How do we persuade people that there is more to human life than is determined by experience of material existence?

How do we persuade people that considering their origins and destiny as human creatures is important and ultimately unavoidable?

How do we persuade people to listen to and learn from the story of Jesus?

These questions are ours. Working on them may help seekers to clear the ground for the Spirit to engage with them in searching out the truth of their own existence.

For the most part, we are working from ignorance or uncertainty.

A weekend of music

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Friday last we had a lunchtime organ concert in St John's with over eighty people in attendance. Then, last night Clare and I went to the Opera, to see Bartok's grim fable, Bluebeard's Castle, which I didn't like, and Brecht's Seven Deadly Sins, with Welsh Ballet Company, Diversions, and WNO collaborating. This was outstanding, memorable, a brilliant piece of 'moral' entertainment, satirising western materialism and the seamier side of American (not to mention European) aspirations for success. It should be required viewing for all sixth formers. The dance side was spectacular and at the same time vividly exhibited the spiritually injurious nature of the 'deadly sins', without ever being salacious, as one might fear. Welsh artistic enterprise scores again!

Then, Saturday night, we had a superb concert at St John's from an American choir from Rutgers University New Jersey. The choir had spent the previous week touring Wales and singing during their fiftieth anniversary year, also on a pilgrimage in the footsteps of the great black activist and singer Paul Robeson, who was an engineering graduate of their college.

Rutgers claims to be one of the most culturally and ethnically diverse colleges in the USA, and the choir itself was certain evidence of this. They sang in English, Spanish, Chinese, and several items in Welsh, raising the roof singing together with the eighty strong audience 'Mae hen wlad fy nhadau' at the end of the concert.

The Paul Robeson Society's history exhibition was erected in the north aisle for all to visit. A fine piece of work, with a dual display for children (at a lower level for reading), also bi-lingual. Robeson's solidarity with the Welsh miners during the 1930s is part of Valley historical pride. The choir visited Mountain Ash, where he'd sung a concert for miners, and also performed a concert in St Paul's Ynyshir. They loved our building and its perfect acoustic for music, and made a full recording of the concert in the hope of producing a tour CD.

The choir made a quick excursion to England (Bath) during the morning, and returned from lunch there to a Welsh Tea before rehearsing briefly. We wondered how many people we'd get at 5.00pm on a Saturday, this being a bit of an unknown time for us to hold a music event. When they'd finished rehearsing the choir trooped outside for a breath of fresh air, and started singing spontaneously in the street as a couple of church people gave out leaflets. It was a moment of pure magic, and people did come in to listen to the music and stayed. We were fortunate to get another turn out of eighty people, a second day running

I loved the warmth, enthusiasm and energy of the choir singing music from American composers I didn't know. I'd have loved to hear them tackle more material from some classical and European repertoire, which I'm sure they do and would do well, given their vocal power and discipline. At one stage their organ accompanist let rip with a little jazzy improvisation, which made Father Willis dance in a delightful way. Americans do syncopation like nobody else.

Finally, a 'musical event' of a different kind. The baptism of Rosie and Chris Berry's son Daniel at St Teilo's Sunday morning. Rosie is a long standing choir member at St Teilo's, Chris leads St Teilo Arts Trust and plays organ in various palces including St John's, when he's not travelling to remote places as a Geolgoy researcher. It was my first visit back to St Teilo's since the benefice split, and it was lovely to be able to share a service there with Caroline, my new neighbouring priest. Daniel has been going to church since he was a few weeks old, so he's quite at home, and content to participate in his baby way. When I gave him the baptismal candle, he looked and exclaimed loudly 'Ah!', which made us laugh. Then when we clapped in welcome, he joined in, and we all laughed again. Such a pleasure.

A new angle on progress

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On my way around the city centre redevelopment site today, in search of new photographic perspectives, I found myself climbing the stairs of the sole remaining multi-storey car park that hasn't been demolished, in Mary-Ann Street. I don't know why I didn't ever think of doing it before, as I soon discovered that it offers a grandstand view of areas I have been photographing regularly since the beginning of the year. If offers a view of the whole site westwards, close to the remains of the 'New' library, and the huge multi-screen cinema that has pagoda-like pretensions with upturned roof edges as if it was beamed in from another continent.

Apart from finding fresh views I ran into the Safety Officer for Cuddys, the demolition contractor, who was up on the roof with his video camera, logging the scene for the firm. He told me with satisfaction that over the past six months there had been only one non-serious accident on this vast, dangerous looking site. He also remarked with pride that the demolition of the car park sited within three metres of the cinema had taken place with only two cracked windows on the neighbouring building as collateral damage. Now that's something I reckon is worthy of pride, looking at the hundreds of photos I've taken of Cuddy's monster machines munching away at steel and concrete. It's a tribute to the skill of their drivers, who truly deserve their 'significant' wages.

I had wondered why the last wall and end section of the Library was still standing when the rest had been taken down without interruption. It turns out that the final stretch overlooks the ramp which serves as a service entrance to the St David's One shopping centre, in use 24 hours a day. The external wall is clad with heavy stone panelling which cannot be allowed to fall and demolish the ramp. So, very careful preparation has to be made to guarantee that when the walls come down they are sure to fall in the opposite direction. Nothing can be left to chance when the impact on business in the main shopping centre is so critical.

One last thing. That tree growing next to the outer east wall of the Tredegar Street car part, which survived through to the levelling of the entire site, offering first its blossom and now its bright green leaves to the delight of all passers by, is doomed. It sits inside the line of walls soon the be built and will have to be removed. It could have been trashed ages ago I guess, but something in the hearts of all those demolition site workers has left it in place as long as possible. Hopefully when it goes it will be lifted out carefully and given a home somewhere else, even if it's in the garden of one of those involved in site clearance.

There is also the last remaining flowering cherry tree on the Hayes, still tucked in at the base of the last remaining stump of Oxford House. Will it stay? Unlikely. But I did learn from my conversation that its roots are contained within a structure that make its removal and its transplantation possible. Let's hope someone responsible at the other side of the site knows this. The rest of the trees on the Hayes were grubbed out unceremoniously and dumped - something which scandalised me when I noticed this in an early photographic foray.

Smash and grab

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Last night thirty members of St John's congregation gathered for a Requiem Eucharist, in thanksgiving and remembrance of our friend Vincent, whose funeral took so very long to arrange, because the hospital had somehow managed to have him as a patient for a fortnight without taking any details of next of kin from him, or if they did, they managed to conceal the fact from everyone, including themselves. Our choir robed up to meet Vincent's coffin beforehand at the south gate, and escorted into church for the service. It was a moving simple 'family' occasion with church members present who had known him for most of his life, or worked with him in the tea room. His own closest surviving relatives could not be present, living in Australia and America and unable to travel. His coffin remained there overnight, decked in flowers arranged by
church members.

Today at ten, there were forty odd people in church for the funeral office - some of those who had attended the night before were there again, but not all, as some had to work. Others who couldn't attend last night made it for this morning's service or came to the Crematorium for the Farewell and Committal. There were a dozen members of Cathays Methodist church present. He attended their Tuesday lunch club regularly. They were his friends too. Vincent's poor sight and deafness made him seem more of a lonely person than he really was. He was content to live alone after his mother's death fifteen or more years ago, but remained constantly connected with two local Christian communities where his friendship was treasured.

As we left for Thornhill Crematorium after the funeral office, there was a bit of traffic chaos in the High Street outside. At the entrance to the Castle Arcade, I noticed police cordon tape strung across the battered front of the Clive Ranger jewellery shop, and a parked Panda car nearby - signs of a smash and grab raid. I learned later that it had happened just a short while before we'd left church. Two hundred thousand pounds worth of goods stolen, including two valuable Fabergé eggs on display. Balaclava'd men with a sledge hammer had got away with daylight robbery on a busy thoroughfare.

I spoke later in the day to the shop manager, to express my sympathies. He simply said how thankful he was that nobody was injured. He was philosophical about the assault on the shop, having seen much worse outcomes in his thirty years as a trader in precious things. And he graciously thanked me for 'my time'. I was amazed he had time to stop a minute to speak to me, a stranger in a dog collar, what with all the details of a big insurance claim to sort out, and a shop front to get repaired as soon as possible.

A strange event accompanying Vincent's final farewell.

Winners and losers

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In the distance this evening, the sounds of celebration, as a result of Wales' Rugby victory this afternoon. The city centre was full of people of all ages, male and female in rugby supporters' shirts, a happy raucous sort of atmosphere, less nerve racking than when a football match is on at the stadium. Often there's tension in the air. Happily, the police have become very skilled at handling these big occasions, when an extra seventy thousand supporters turn up. Regrettably policing doesn't stretch to the insistence that all bus drivers switch off their motors, to reduce the level of noisome fumes polluting the air. I hope that one day this will be the case. If half of the hundred or so buses that turn up leave their motors running for many hours, this has a significant impact on air quality - even when there's a cold wind blowing like today.

With hundreds of extra police officers doing weekend duties on match days, leave has to be taken in lieu during the weeks that follow. This reduces patrolling officers on the streets to a bare minimum during the day, and it also slows down investigation of crimes. Since the car parks have been demolished, the addicts who haunt them, either to trade drugs, burgle vehicles to raise income to feed the habit, or simply take drugs therin have to find somewhere else to go. This past few weeks there have been signs of surreptitious drug taking going on in a secluded corner of the north aisle, despite the flow of people through the church much of the time. There have been several more purse thefts as well from unwitting people in the tea-room. We've been promised some CCTV cameras, but are awaiting their installation. It's keeping us on the alert, and we've decided to restrict opening hours to the time the tea-room is operating until they are installed.

Some days now, there are people out begging unhindered next to cash-points, on the main streets. Out on the pathway through the churchyard, in addition to the regular guy who sits there opposite the church gate, there's another one or two waiting just around the corner for him to net his quota for a fix (market rate, a fiver) and leave the pitch free. All because the regular police patrols are unlikely to happen due to the police needing to take leave. This is the ignored every day price (on top of the huge extra cost in police overtime) for all these prestigious events in the stadium. And let's not mention the litter mountain, on the streets, in the churchyard, piling up in the church entrance, to be cleared before I can get in for the eight o'clock service tomorrow morning. We all get to pay for things nobody asked us if really wanted them.

The County's budget is causing trouble due to the impact of a huge over-spend on social services. The details of this I'm not really aware of, but the result is cutbacks in schools, highways and other services. Social services has been a problem area for some time, not living up to expectations. It looks as if extra funding has not really sorted the problems. I wonder if this is anything to do with the rising scale of need? Extra care for the growing number of elderly people with health care problems, support workers for people with disabilities - all valid causes, but still likely to be under-provided for. What bothers me is the limited amount of provision to de-toxify addicts, and help them resolve their often complex problems that drive them to substance abuse in the first place. There are so many wounded and weak people around, and they are demanding. But, a society is only as good as its ability to care for its needy members. So much investment is made in either the pursuit of leisure or in defending our society and possessions from threat of violence, that would be much better spent on giving a better life to those broken by suffering. It's left to people's immense fund of good-will to raise money for charities to tackle issues which the moral poverty of our social policy fails to address. Thank heavens. I just wish a shift in state priorities that could make a difference was somewhere on the horizon. Will it figure in upcoming local elections? I doubt it.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi

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It's St David's Day. We celebrated at St John's this morning by hosting the annual Lord Mayor's service, to which the Lord Mayor of Cardiff invites his counterparts from all over the Principality, plus other civic and military dignitories. Last night a small crew decorated the church with a hundred bunches of daffodils, obtained from the Riverside Farmers' Market on Sunday morning, so the church smelt fragrant and looked beautiful with bright sunlight pouring in. There were over four hundred people there. Aled Edwards the new General Secretary of Churches Together in Wales preached a thoughtful sermon, and we sang all the expected traditional Welsh Hymns. There were so many bright eyes and smiling faces to greet at the door afterwards.

We were pleased to have shared in such a prestigious event, and given it that homely welcoming touch. We were especially delighted that the Catholic Archbishop of Cardiff turned up. He was pleased to conclude the service with a blessing. Our home team plus the people from the City protocol office were all so well organised that all I had to do was make sure the microphone system was on and properly adjusted beforehand, and receive the collection at the altar at the end. Most enjoyable.

The occasion generated such a lot of extrovert energy in me, that it wasn't quite so easy re-focussing inwardly for the Eucharist with half a dozen people which followed on once all our guests had departed. It's part of the challenge of living with great diversity in everyday ministerial life to be able to make the switch and do it well. It's a lot easier when well rested - and that's not always the case.

Afterwards, on my way over to Tredegarville on foot to be present for the afternoon session of the school eisteddfod, I took a walk around the demolition site with my camera and found some new picture angles. I arrived in good time to share the Head Teacher's worries about budgetary cuts that will be hitting the school in the year ahead, then it was into the assembly hall, giving out competition certificates, listening to delightful winning performances of song and poetry recitations by eisteddfod participants, and then praying a blessing before we all sang 'Mae hen wlad fyn hadau' - Land of my Fathers, the Welsh National Anthem. School is such a delight.

On the way back to St John's to pick up my bicycle, it was pleasing to hear the band of the Queen's Dragoon Guards (aka, 'The Welsh Cavalry'), some musicians in their scarlet uniforms, wearing their fine plumed helmets in style, performing outside of Marks and Spencers. They had one of their light armoured vehicles on display (two more outside the church was well), and young soldiers helping up mums and kids to climb inside or have a photo taken. Someone gave me a leaflet, reminding me that the regiment is marching through the city on parade tomorrow, the 21st anniversary of them being granted the Freedom of the City. There were lots of soldiers in fatigues scattered among the shoppers, evidently off duty, clutching shopping bags from the big stores, and wandering around with their mates. All very peaceful and easy on a sunny afternoon.

They've not long returned from duty the Gulf, where will they go next? Their list of active service duties all over the world's trouble spots is long and impressive. I bet they like being able to dress up and parade in a welcoming place. But having said that their very presence as a highly visible group of service men and women makes them a potential target for terrorists determined to make a public statement. So, a public high profile occasion of this kind is a nightmare for policing and security services. As many as a third of our neighbours around Queen Anne Square are service families. There's quite a turnover, as is common with military personnel, but I confess I'm still not entirely sure who is military and who isn't, as it's quite rare to see anyone going to and from work in uniform. Soldiers off-duty don't want to draw attention to themselves these days.

This evening, Gill and Manel arrived from Geneva to spend a few days with us and attend the opera at the Millennium Centre on Saturday night. So good to see two old friends. Quite troubling to hear them speak of the insecurities they experience from opportunistic street crime of their home city, so long considered safe and well policed, but suffering from new waves of criminal activities that sadly seem to accompany movements of people from abroad, whether displaced by war or economic ambition. To judge by headlines in the local papers, one would be tempted to think that Cardiff is similarly afflicted. However, fear of crime in any context is not the same as actual crime and crime detected or reported. One way or another the world seems to be as fearful as it ever was. Our material securities seem to have made no difference whatsoever to our anxiety levels. What would Dewi Sant have made of it?

Lobster claws

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That's what they call them on the demolition site - I just found out. Those hundred foot long articulated arms that reach up and bit a chuck of concrete, as if it were merely a biscuit are called lobster claws, obviously but I didn't guess it, though they even look at bit like claws. Two of these huge are chewing away at the face of the Tredegar Street car park now. An orange one and a yellow one that's been redeployed from chewing down Oxford House,at a standstill for the moment.

Recently I noted that the closing of Currys Digital in Queen Street left the city centre without no retail outlet selling mainstream PC computers, although the new shop selling Apple Macs seems to be doing well. Well, I was wrong. Jessups the photography retailer, having lost a shop on the Hayes side of Oxford House, has opened a new superstore on Churchill Way, and this shop, uniquely among its stores is selling PC and Apple laptops. It makes sense, since the use of digital still cameras, and even more so video cameras, requires use of a computer to process picture data. The store also provides a very full direct 'camera to print' service as well as a 'print via the internet service'. Nice to see a business opportunity taken up which is up to the moment, rather than lagging behind. Interesting though, I found this out by going into the shop, not by their advertising.

Another match day in town

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Considering that at least seventy thousand people came into Cardiff today around the event of the Carling Cup final, services were attended by the usual numbers of people. The earlier timing of the main Sung Eucharist poses little problem on match days now that worshippers have got used to it.

At eight o'clock, two lads, looking as if they'd been out all night clubbing, or maybe travelling a long way overnight to watch Arsenal play Chelsea, came in as the service started, wandered up to the chancel and peered in. I welcomed them and invited them to be seated. The entered, and sat for a few moments, then upped and left without a word as the Old Testament Lesson started to be read, leaving behind them only an odour of stale cigarette smoke. Well, at least they didn't mouth obscenities on departure, as did the last interloper at eight o'clock, six months ago.

Andrew Thomas, an ordinand at St Michael's Llandaff, on placement with me this year, preached very well at the nine thirty service. I enjoy having him around. He's an active member of the Order of St John, and still does duties regularly, despite his family and college schedule. He gives the impression of being at relaxed and at home when sharing in worship and when preaching - doing what he's meant to do with quiet confidence, and no angst - which bodes well for his future.

Mary, one of our most determined elderly regulars was taken with a bad turn during the service. Struggling with intense back pain, she was de termined to stay until Communion. I watched her being taken from her seat to the back, as the Agnus Dei was sung. Usually I take her Communion in her seat. She insists on sitting in the Mayoral pew. Or, as she would say with a twinkle in her eye, he sits in her pew, when he can be bothered to come, which is less often than she does. Instead of leaving her until last as I usually do, Andrew and I strode through the Communion rail, as the choir were making their way up, heading up to the back with the Holy Gifts, so that she wouldn't miss out if her taxi arrived while she was waiting to receive. Everyone from the choir and congregation saw and understood what we were doing. They're just like that, always looking out for each other. And, within a couple of minutes we'd resumed and Mary was taken home by two stewards.

After the Tredegarville School service, just half a dozen of us, I had to queue in traffic to get home, due to the match having just ended. Ten minutes to get there and over half an hour to return, only just in time to get down by bike to St John's for evening prayer, against the returning tide of fans walking to their coaches. Despite the deterring noisy crowds of revellers around the church, there were still eight of us to pray together. One of them was Mary. She explained that she'd sat with the pain wondering what to do next, and after a couple of hours it had disappeared completely. Being determined to have a time of worship uninterrupted by pain, she called another taxi and came down for Evening Prayer! The Spirit and a courageous will are a great combination.

To be a public witness

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There's a demure youngish middle-aged woman of afro-Caribbean origin, I'd say from her accent, who stands a few hours at a time, several days a week in the Boulevard de Nantes subway close to the City Hall. She simply stands there saying clearly, simply without ranting "God is alive. Jesus saves." Nothing more, hour after hour.

It's her personal act of witness to her faith, week in week out, all weathers. No banners, no tracts, no conversation. When she first started, she spoke quite shyly and quietly, with obvious sincerity and humility. As her confidence has increased, her voice has become stronger, but it remains unforced. This is not 'argument weak, shout louder' territory. Her action may be deemed eccentric, yet it's touchingly beautiful.

I always smile at her, but I never manage to catch her eye. It could be a cultural thing. Some African and Caribbean women don't look a man in the eye. It's not because they are necessarily shy or consider themselves inferior, it's more like a gesture of respect for someone to glance at them and then look away, especially a priest. It was something I found quite disconcerting when I first encountered it in the black community where I served as a young pastor. Fortunately, a colleague explained this to me, which was a reassurance.

It'd be inappropriate for me to interrupt her, or to comment aloud, though doubtless some passers by may well do. She must, by now, know many of the regulars who go back and fore. She's not doing it to be appreciated, nor to confront. She's declaring what gives her life meaning and purpose in the most simple and direct way, in season and out of season, whether it meaks sense or not.

Quietly, shyly, she's encouraging me to be myself too.