. .Church. . Sunday
morning, I'm invited to a tiny private protestant church, built by a wealthy
Welshman for residents here on the Bubb Estate. It's a quaint work of art.
Frescoes were painted by Italian painters in 1854. Wearing tails and tophats,
they worked by the light of candles held by local children. Later, as I pedal
weakly into the wind with rain in my face, ninety bikers whiz by me. They're
on a 100-mile bicycle tour around Wales. I can't keep up with the slowest