Death of a friend

After Mass at St German's Saturday morning, I took Clare to the station to catch a train to Coventry for an overnight Rhiannon minding session, as Kath and Anto are playing a Saturday evening gig in Litchfield. This left me with a quiet weekend to myself. So, I went into the office and put in a few hours of background preparation work to make 2012 accounts recording smoother. Better to do things like this when it's relatively quiet, than do them under pressure later on, and make it easier for someone else to deal with them if needs be. The office was  unexpectedly empty for a busy Saturday afternoon, and I had to remember the key code to unlock the door for the first time in many months. I enjoyed working in solitude and getting things done without distraction. I had intended to go out to Ely for the memorial service for Bob Morgan, but decided to go home instead and make the most of time alone.

There was a slightly cryptic message on the answering machine from our friend Gill in Geneva, promising she would ring back to speak to us later. When she did ring back, after supper, it was to announce the death of our mutual friend, Peter Slessor, former church warden, one time honorary verger at Holy Trinity Church in Geneva. Only last August we visited Peter and Andrea in Scarborough where they had returned and settled happily after several decades in Geneva. At that time he was undergoing chemotherapy for a tumor in his aesophagus, and was coping well with drastic treatment. We heard at Christmas that he'd successfully got through the radiotherapy component of the therapy, or so it seemed. Since the summer, he'd suffered badly from mouth ulcers, a side effect of the treatment so they said, but this made it harder for him to eat and drink properly. He lost weight and, was hospitalised due to dehydration, leading to kidney failure.

I got the impression when we talked back in the summer during an out-patient treatment session, that he was well aware of the risk of this 'kill or cure' treatment for a very serious condition. Yet, he took it in his stride, thankful for the full life he'd enjoyed, in a career in international business development with the United Nations World Trade Organisation, and grateful for the contentment of retirement times with Andrea, both in Geneva and back in Britain. He'd been a most loyal friend and ally when I was Chaplain of Holy Trinity. He was a man with unassuming charm concealing great pastoral awareness and sensitivity, deep faith and love of the church and its sacraments. He was also a hard drinking Scottish raconteur, who could tell jokes for hours on end without repeating himself, a polished middle class Aberdonian version of Billy Connolly, with a huge capacity for friendship. He'll be missed by many.

I was glad of the time alone to think about Peter and pray for him, and to remember him at Mass today in Cowbridge Benefice. I celebrated first at Llandough, a place settled by St Dochdwy a fifth century hermit. The present church dates from the thirteenth century and stands within the old castle precincts. The locality has acquired many more houses in the twentieth century, but still rates as a hamlet rather than a village, set above a stream running through an idyllic wooded valley. The congregation was very friendly and I was treated to a cup of tea and several Welsh cakes before driving on into Cowbridge to celebrate at Holy Cross Parish Church. I'm at Holy Cross again next Sunday for a Family Eucharist. That gives me something to look forward to and plan for.

On the way home, with only myself to make lunch for, I took time out at Culverhouse Cross retail park to do some window shopping. The shortened the afternoon idle time before visiting St German's for Evensong and Benediction, and then picking Clare up from the station. Peter's death, very much on both our minds.