Eerily quiet capital’s a shell of their usual
AS THE CORONAVIRUS CRISIS CONTINUES, THE CENTRE OF THE CITY OF ARCADES IS A SHADOW OF ITS FORMER SELF, AS JILLIAN MACMATH DISCOVERS
WALKING down St Mary Street on Saturday morning, I felt as though I was touring an old, disused film set.
The historic streets beneath my feet looked real, Welsh flags fluttered in the breeze, and shop facades were convincing.
But it seemed the actors had gone home.
If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t believe I was in the centre of Wales’ capital city.
As Wales, and the whole of the UK, enters its fourth week of governmentimposed lockdown, it appears the public has got the message. People are not leaving their homes unnecessarily.
On what is usually one of the busiest days in Cardiff, the City of Arcades is a shell of its usual self.
Its winding alleyways, lined with independent businesses, coffee shops and pubs, are deserted.
Where tourists and residents would normally be sipping lattes and window shopping, there is nothing but an eerie quiet, interrupted only by pigeons scouring the streets for food.
On the city’s main thoroughfares, I passed the odd pedestrian, most walking head down, a mask covering their mouth and nose.
A few people trickled out of supermarkets, as guards stood outside counting the shoppers coming and going.
A handful of joggers and cyclists were embracing the open space, enjoying their permitted daily exercise and the brief escape from the confines of their homes.
But mostly, the city is empty as people heed the government’s message.
On The Hayes, I imagined how different it might look if the lockdown was lifted. With days getting longer and sunshine replacing the grey of winter, throngs of people would be visiting Cardiff Castle, where daffodils are turning the grounds into a sea of yellow.
Sun worshippers and families would stroll Bute Park, where the magnolia trees will be nearing their peak.
But today, that is not the case. Even the buskers, who tolerate all seasons, have stayed home. They have to.
Heading back towards my home in Canton, I passed the Principality Stadium. Here, the stillness seems to disappear.
Workers can be seen going in and out, preparing the city’s newest field hospital for admissions after it was transformed into the Dragon’s Heart Hospital.
Though it’s clear something is happening, you’d never have guessed it all will now be a facility for some of the area’s sickest residents.
As I reached Cowbridge Road, there was more life in front of me. Outside of the city centre, it seems people are going about their business – albeit with masks and gloves on.
A queue of nine people – each spaced two metres apart – snaked around the corner of Lionel Road, all waiting to enter Rees’s homemade pies.
Bruton’s Bakers was similarly busy – but a sign on the door commanded that no more than two people enter at a time.