We heard this week of the sentence passed on those who killed young Logan Mwangi at the river Ogmore between Aberkenfig and Sarn, north of Bridgend. My memories of the area, however, are much brighter, as I served as deacon in the parish there.

In the summer of 1977 I was sent to the small parish of St Robert Aberkenfig for ten weeks. We never found out why that parish, but anyway a sunny Saturday that July found me with suitcase at the presbytery in the beautifully named Coronation Street.

It was the day of the parish fete, so that was my first chance to meet the parishioners. While sauntering from one stall to the next, the parish priest casually told me that, by the way, he was going off on his holidays for just under four weeks on the following Monday.

An elderly monk from Belmont would be coming down for the weekend Masses, but otherwise I was in charge. This of course defeated the whole purpose of me being there, to shadow a priest and learn from him. Oh, and there were two couples to prepare for marriage, and in emergency these were the phone numbers of the two neighboring priests.

In practice it was the classic being thrown in at the deep end. I led services on the weekdays (yes, in 1977), visited the schools and hospitals, and got people to show me round the vast parish, which included two whole valleys, the Garw and the Ogwr. I flew around the village on my bike, and when two lads shouted out “Look at the vicar” I shouted back, forgetting my new status and collar “Oh, shut up!” I accepted the challenge to play the village champion at the game of cribbage – and beat him! Half the folks were horrified and the other half welcomed me into the local social life with enthusiasm.

The ten weeks passed quickly and soon I was back in Rome for my last year in seminary. When I was ordained priest here in St Brigid’s the following April, to my great surprise and pleasure a whole gang of Aberkenfig parishioners turned up.

And so began the great story of being a present day priest in seven more parishes until arriving here. I’m often told that I should write a book about Port Talbot, Ely, the Docks, Ledbury, Canada, Penarth, Llanrumney and of course our 3 Churches. Maybe one day…

Fr Matthew

Our new diocesan Bishop, Archbishop Mark O’Toole is having a busy time. On Monday he was installed as our archbishop here in Cardiff. Then on Thursday he was installed as Bishop of Menevia at Swansea’s St Joseph’s Cathedral. In between he managed to have his own birthday (59, since you ask). Next, on Monday he flies out to Rome to receive his pallium.

His what, you ask? The pallium is the symbol of an archbishop as opposed to other bishops. It is a band of woven wool placed over his shoulders and looking rather like a letter ’y’ hanging in front and behind. It is decorated with six crosses and some ornate pins.

The pallium is made from lambs whose fleeces are presented by the nuns of the convent of Saint Agnes outside the Walls, one of the ancient churches of Rome. The fleeces then pass to the Benedictine nuns of Santa Cecilia in the beautiful and lively Trastevere area of Rome, who weave their wool into the pallia. Both these churches preserve the remains of their saints. The finished pallia are then kept in a casket placed directly at the tomb of St Peter under the main altar at St Peter’s in the Vatican until they are presented to new archbishops. In modern times this is done at the time of the Feast of Ss Peter and Paul, June 29.

So that is why Archbishop Mark is taking off for Rome on Monday. The Pope’s nuncio will invest him with it in the near future. Getting back from Rome, the archbishop gets down to business. Things I am aware of from his no doubt filling diary include 6 July, when he is meeting us canons / consultors, 21 July when he is meeting all the clergy – and 22 July when he comes to us for our Confirmations!

Fr Matthew