In and Out

 I was very glad not to be at home much of last week. Domestic chaos ensued after the breakdown of the freezer and the jamming of the electronic garage door - and a Bank Holiday ensured that no-one was available to deal with either and that everyone then had a backlog to work through. How dependent we are on others to keep our lives ticking over smoothly! And how easily domestic mishaps upset carefully drawn up plans.

But the downs of last week were definitely outweighed by the ups. I spent a thoroughly enjoyable day helping at a Hands on Harp event. Forty children had the opportunity to work with professional harpists under the auspices of the Lady Llanover Society and the short concert they gave at the end of the day was delightful. Then I visited the national arboretum at Westonbirt and did a lovely walk in memory of Dave Laycock, the writer Rona Laycock's late husband. The rhododendrons were in full bloom, giving spectacular splashes of colour, and our guide was a fount of information on their history, their care and stories about them. Dave had been a volunteer guide at Westonbirt for some time and it was so appropriate an event through which to remember him.

                                        

But the highlight of the week had to be my visit to the Temple of Peace in Cardiff. In the year I've been working on the pilgrimage project I've visited some amazing places and had some wonderful experiences. But the few hours that I spent at the Temple of Peace were special indeed. The building in itself is lovely - an Art Deco construction dedicated to the cause of peace in 1938 and now housing, amongst other things, the Welsh Centre for International Affairs. In the Crypt is the Book of Remembance. in which are recorded "the names of the men and women of Welsh birth and parentage and of all the men belonging to the regiments of Wales who gave their lives in the war 1914 -1918". I was invited to read the welcome that precedes the daily turning of a page. In the years after the opening of the Temple bereaved families would make pilgrimages to hear their loved ones names read out; I found it immensely moving to be reading the words which they would have heard in those circumstances. It felt a real privilege to be doing so.