Friday morning I had a bereavement visit to make for a funeral next Wednesday. I met the family in one a house on the main stretch of Cathedral Road, one of a few still family owned and occupied that hasn't been converted into flats, offices, clinics, a hotel or a care home. A nice reminder of how life used to be on this street of prestigious looking dwellings.
Clare arrived on the half past two train from Birmingham and I picked her up from the station, pleased to her news of Rhiannon's half term youth theatre workshop 'Playbox'. She was picked to play Titania, Shakespeare's fairy queen in an extract from Midsummer Night's Dream. She's twelve this weekend, unfamilar with Shakesperian language. With much intense work and a little help from Grandma de-coding texts, she did the necessary learning, and delivered an excellent performance last night, playing with other lead actors six years older than herself. We're thrilled to see her enjoy this so much, taking after her Mum and Grandma.
This morning I went to St Mary's Bute Street, now in interregnum due to Fr Graham's retirement, to celebrate Mass with seven people. It's a long while since I took any services there. Since my last visit, the nave seating has been replaced, and chairs are now arranged in a semi-circular pattern around the nave altar. It looks very good indeed, appearing somewhat more prosperous now than when Graham and I visited here as students on placement duties with The Samaritans forty nine years ago.
The weather had turned decidedly miserable, with lashing rain and wind that roared and buffeted the building during the service. The prospect of an afternoon walk was dashed. More time to work on preparing the Lent blog, but feeling hemmed in all day. I watched the second double episode of BBC4's Icelandic crime serial drama 'Trapped'. It was good, but a bit slow. Nasty weather seems to be one the chief characters in this detective tale. Not the best viewing after a day indoors. A double episode of 'Benidorm' would have been more cheering.