Communicating what?

I heard a bit of a moan earlier about the lack of information available at Cardiff Central Station, to direct travellers to the Eisteddfod. Before returning home I went there to check the facts. Sure enough there was one poster with sufficient information opposite the main ticket barrier exit, just a bit bigger than a news billboard - but none by the other two exits to the main entrance hall.

Outside, on the perimeter fence, either side of the passageway through the bus station a copy of the same poster was displayed, with an additional poster each side with supporting directions to the appropriate bus stops. Well and good, except that all displays were English only. No bi-lingual signs, nothing with the Eisteddfod logo on it. None of the colour displays associated with the Cardiff Festival, just plain English, black and white.

Funny, I thought bi-lingualism was not only part of our culture here in the Capital city, but also a legal requirement. What a welcome to Cardiff! What a poor impression of civic pride in ownership towards one of Europe's largest and oldest cultural festivals. The city centre developers (from London) are doing better than that these days, keeping the world in the picture. This is not exactly what you'd expect from a self confident world class city.

Eisteddfod Sunday

When I got home from church this morning, Archbishop Barry was on Radio Cymru, preaching at the ecumenical eisteddfod service, fresh back from Lambeth. The Western Mail published the English translation of his address in the centrefold of yesterday's edition, which is much to be appreciated. His Welsh speaking is very clear and easy to follow, especially if you've read the English and have the gist of it. Clare was over on the Maes practicing for some event she was singing at, and Artie had gone off with a friend on a visit to the Llynfi and Neath Valleys, so I was left to cook myself a pasta lunch and enjoy listening to the Boss, and wondering what he and the other Bishops had made of the Lambeth experience.

After four services during the day, I didn't fancy trekking over to the Maes for the evening's Gymanfa Ganu, so we watched it on telly instead (with subtitles) - a most impressive event it was too. One of the hymns had been written by Y Parch Denzil John, Minister of Tabernacl, just down the street from us at St John's. He was called out by the conductor to be congratulated, along with the composer of the new hymn tune used with it. A very good piece of work indeed.
And a neat example of the meaning of Spiritual Capital in our context.

Reflecting on the research project work recently completed. Although we referred to the whole Welsh church cultural scene in Cardiff, it's apity we didn't go into it in any depth. Cardiff's Welsh chapels are still real cultural powerhouses and centres of excellence, and the Capital's music scene is very well represented at the Eisteddfod.

Polyvalent weekend

A sunny day for the Annual Mission Fayre, bringing a steady trickle of people through the church throughout the day, to browse the stalls, buy cakes, drink tea, climb the tower. Over 165 people ascended. One man surprised his girlfriend by proposing marriage to her up top. He'd been in touch enquiring about opportunities a couple of times. Bob Hardy, tower captain, was on hand with his camera to snap the moment. What fun!

It was quite a day for the City also, with the Big Weekend open air concert in front of City Hall, and a big fun-fair in and among the civic centre buildings. Of course, it meant far less car parking was available than usual. The fair site was entirely surrounded by Heras fencing for security purposes, with strict controls banning alcohol within the cordon, and lots of safety stewards mingling with the crowd to restrain the disruptive elements, and help create a safe family atmosphere. Just watching some rides, the way they throw people around in an atmosphere of very loud music is nerve rattling enough. This is the first year for some time when I didn't bother to walk through the site a few times and chat with people I know, ambulancemen, stewards, police etc. It was annoying enough to be compelled to take the detour right around the security cordon in order to get home. My word, I am becoming a grumpy old man!

However, I did enjoy watching the passage of the Carnival procession, with its hosts of drummers and dancers, swaying up St Mary Street, past the Castle, up the Kingsway and on to the site of the Big Weekend concert. It may not be as ambitious as Notting Hill, but it really is a credit to its organisers. Next weekend South Wales' Hare Krishna monks will be doing their own Chariot Festival Parade, following the same route, but concluding with a fête in Bute Park.

Meanwhile, over in Pontcanna fields, the National Eisteddfod opened in style. Clare received her A level Welsh certificate in a special ceremony for Dysgwyr (learners), and spent the day there with our friend Artie, who's visiting us again from Paris, and trying (as a good linguist should) to get her head around Welsh pronunciation - what an initiation! Across the Taff, in Blackweir fields area of Bute Park, there's a huge caravan park for visitors to the Eisteddfod. It's said there's be 150,000 visitors to the Maes (the Eisteddfod territory, where it all happens) during this week long event. I suspect there are thousands on the camp-site(s). What's amazing is how little of the noise of all this gets out into the surrounding area - unlike so many other events, dominated by over-amplified public address systems - especially when you consider how big an event this is, so close to the heart of the city. Such a wholesome contrast to all the 'popular consumer' stuff inflicted on the civic centre.