Is Your Journey Really Necessary?

I've never been a 'city' person as such, in spite of living, studying and/or working within fairly easy reach of Cardiff and London during my life. When I was growing up, getting to Cardiff was a long and very complicated expedition by bus (there were no trains from Aberdare until 1988.) Mother always hated the drive into the city centre, so we used to visit Swansea out of preference. That was where we did our Xmas shopping every year. Cardiff was an occasional necessary evil, best avoided if we had the choice. Now, in 2013, the train to Cardiff takes about an hour. On the other hand, you can get to Swansea from Aberdare, but it takes ages, involves two different companies and at least one change of buses. There's no possibility of getting there by public transport if you're working normal office hours, and you can forget any idea of getting home after the shops close. (See A Letter to the Editor 6 .) So it goes… Even when I was at university only an hour away from...

'Autumn woes' was the headline on BBC Wales' summary table of the home nation's dismal performance in the Autumn Rugby Tests since 2009 (eleven defeats and a draw.) 'Autumn woes' could also sum up the experience of passengers on the South Wales Valleys Lines over the past couple of weeks. As I told you in Wet Wednesday , Martin H. and I were fortunate enough to catch a delayed train home from Abercynon last week. Had it actually been on time , we'd certainly have missed it. On 5 November, my friend Alexis reported that the train from Cardiff to Aberdare was running approximately twenty minutes late. Arriva Trains Wales had come up with arguably the best excuse to date – the delay had been caused (this time) by a fireworks display. Back in the days of British Rail, the late running and cancellation of trains was a standing joke, and a great source of comic material. Reginald Perrin used to arrive at Sunshine Desserts eleven minutes late every morning. Driven ...

I'm in Cardiff at the moment, using a remarkably slow wifi, even by Wetherspoon standards. I needed to get online as I had an email from Andy Tillison via Facebook yesterday (see Our Friends in the North .) By way of thanks for my support from (almost) the beginning of Gold, Frankincense and Disk Drive's career, he'd sent me the entire CD of Where Do We Draw The Line? and the accompanying booklet as a zip file. I didn't fancy using up all my bandwidth trying to download it using Myfi, so I decided to wait until I got to the pub instead. Shanara the Dippy Bint phoned me yesterday, to see what time I anticipated being in town. We must have some sort of weird psychic link, as we always seem to know when one of us is thinking about the other. We're going to have coffee in the restaurant of House of Fraser (which was formerly Howell's, and also played the part of Henrik's Department Store in a few episodes of Doctor Who ), as we can take the baby in there. After...

Martin H. and I had to go to Abercynon today, as Cwm Taf Local Health Board were holding a meeting and we wanted to sit in at the back and make notes. Ynysmeurig House, where they have their headquarters, isn't exactly accessible. We were lucky to have a lift on the way down, but on the way back we were on our own. As the crow flies, the complex of office buildings known as Navigation Park is a couple of hundred yards (if that!) from the station. It's built on the site previously occupied by Abercynon colliery, so it's obviously not in the middle of the town, but it seems that little provision has been made for people to get there. The more I've thought about it, I can't help wondering whether it's just a twist of fate. As I observed in A Tale of Two Castles , there seems to be an increasing trend for local authorities and other public bodies find the most inaccessible spot to set up shop. I first noticed it in 1984 in Uxbridge, when I was living in halls of res...

There's a potentially fascinating event taking place in Cardiff tonight. Some former members of the Black Panthers are giving a talk at Butetown Community Centre, about the Black Power movement of the 1960s and 70s. Tom F. sent me an invitation a couple of weeks ago, and I was very tempted to go. I shouldn't be at all surprised if my friend Leon C. was involved with organizing it. I haven't seen him for ages, but he's passionate about history and politics, and as a Black Cardiffian he's almost certainly had a hand in putting this occasion together. I'd love to have gone to the talk. It's an aspect of modern history which has interested me since I read an interview with Jalal Nuriddin, the founder member of The Last Poets, when I was about eighteen. Martin H. fancied the idea too; he used to send money to the Black Panthers when he was a radical young Oz -reading hippy. It would probably have appealed to Lew M. as well, and I can think of a few more friends w...

I was awake early again on the Monday morning, after my rather haphazard exploration the day before (see  …And Also The Trees .) When I looked out, a good number of the other tents had gone, and my own looked rather sad and lonely in the field. I gathered a few things together and walked down to the farmhouse for a nice hot shower. There were a couple of children playing in the next field, and there were signs of life in a caravan parked next to the fence. The chickens were roaming around in the yard, and I muttered a quiet curse towards the cockerel, who had woken me for the second day running. I emerged from the shower room refreshed and ready to face the world. It was only about eight o'clock. I decided to hit the road early and aim for the 0925 bus to Monmouth. Even though I wasn't in a great hurry to get back to Aberdare, I could feel the usual post-trip-away-comedown coming on. I wasn't looking forward to the next job of the day – dismantling the bloody tent. It was s...