Several days back, I joined colleagues from my driving days for a reunion at the Murenger pub.

Once I’d been there roughly sixty minutes, I stepped away from the party and took a seat outside to have a cigarette. As time passed, I watched what was happening along the main shopping road on that bright Wednesday afternoon.

When I mention activity, I should really point out there was virtually none. The road had only a handful of individuals visible in any direction, nothing like the energetic thoroughfare I recall from my years behind the wheel for Newport Transport during the 1970s.

Back then, vehicles were parked along both carriageways, with large numbers of customers flowing into and out of the market and British Home Stores, while the Wimpy bar and the Royce restaurant attended to their requirements.

Near where I was seated, I remembered the queue of buses lined up to transport weary shoppers, employees, and office staff across the historic town bridge toward Corporation Road and Stephenson Road, accompanied by the distant sound of the South Wales Argus printing machinery operating in their building on Market Street.

Looking toward Westgate Square, which mirrored the emptiness of the main shopping street, I couldn’t help but grieve the impact of pedestrianisation that has produced this lifeless vista now before me.

I went back into the Murenger, relieved that this particular establishment at least remained unchanged…. Malcolm Richards.