Sunday opera

A later than usual Sunday start, driving out in bright sunshine with only one Eucharist service to celebrate at Capel Llanilltern about seven miles from home. It's a small building seating no more than 20 people, built on an ancient site, dedicated to a Saint Elldeyrn said to be the son of Vortigern a 5th century British warlord. Nothing more is known of him. Scholars differ about whether this name is a corruption of Edeyrn, a sixth century monk who left his name in a village on the eastern edge of Cardiff - Llanedeyrn. 

The existence of Llanilltern Church was first recorded in the thirteenth century. When the main road was widened in the mid 19th century, the building was moved further into the churchyard to its present position. There may have been a burial ground with a chapel even earlier than that. In the north wall of the nave is the grave stone of one Vendumaglus, dating from the 5-9th century, as well as several others of 17-19th century in the walls and floor. It's a little gem of local history.

I had a congregation of seven, and unaccompanied by organ, they sang lustily. To my horror, as I was preaching, my phone went off in my pocket, very noisily, as I'd forgotten to switch it off. It's the first time that's ever happened to me - and hopefully the last. It was my dear friend Mike calling to say that he and Gail would arrive later than expected from Worcester for lunch because the M50 was closed. He doesn't relish texting people, I suspect. My apology raised an indulgent smile from the congregation. But did they remember anything I said thereafter? I daren't ask.

After lunch we went to the Millenium Centre to watch Berlioz' romantic opera 'Beatrice and Benedict', an adaptation of Shakespeare's play 'Much ado about nothing'. None of us had seen it before, so we were listening to music which was fresh to us. It was superbly performed, with splendidly localised comic elements, reminiscent of pantomime, albeit more elegant and witty. It seemed strange to be in a theatre on a Sunday afternoon, instead of at Evensong and Benediction, as has been my habit during the past six months. During the interval I bumped into Canon Graham Holcombe, also off duty for once. I imagine his Sunday morning was a lot busier than mine.