I read somewhere when I started out on this adventure in virtual egotism that successful Blogs find a unique raison d'être or rei causa et origo which sustains and justifies them. I had thought that in this case it was an informed take (well, you must judge that) on mental health services in Wales. But as time goes on I have realised that there are other matters of moment which must be exposed including closet Welsh people through the ages and, now, the phenomenon of motorcycling vicars.
The latest one to come to light was surprisingly close to home - or rather work. Hafal's Company Secretary Nicola Thomas tells me that, like me, she had a grandfather in holy orders (called George - and he is buried in Llandeilo whence he came) who rode a motorbike. But she has capped my story because her precipitate prelate actually lost his leg in a motorcycling accident, proving I suppose that the Almighty does not necessarily protect his earthly intermediaries.
Meanwhile my sister-in-law has sent me a link to the previous motorcycling vicar whom I met last week. See a remarkable insight into life in 1962 here. The bit with the vicar doing the Twist should give comfort to anybody who is self-conscious about dancing in public - or there again it may confirm your worst fears.
