Homeward bound

Thanks to having booked an afternoon flight, I had the leisure of a whole morning to pack, strip the bed, take the recycling and rubbish out to the collecting point nearby, before walking to Montreux gare. I got there and booked my ticket early enough to catch the through train to Geneva airport, but found this had been cancelled, and replaced by a stopping train as far as Lausanne, where a choice of trains would to get me there would be possible. I think there are at least four every hour. I didn't need to catch this, but thought - what if the train 20 minutes later I planned to catch was cancelled as well? Whatever the reason for one cancellation, there's no guarantee it won't be followed by another, so I took the stopping train.

As far as Vevey, I chatted to a lady whom I had met while queueing to buy a ticket. She asked me if the ticket office did a money changing service, and I said that I thought not. She boarded the train at the same time as I did, and needed reassurance about when the train reached Vevey. I think she had not travelled on this line before. She was on the way to visit a friend, and had come from Germany. If she came via Basel and Lausanne, she may have missed her stop and needed to double back. We spoke in French and she told me she was from South America. I couldn't resist speaking a few words of Spanish as we parted company, and this raised a smile.

In Lausanne, I had to change platforms, then ten minutes later, the train arrived which I had intended to catch, and by two o'clock, three quarters of an hour later, I was queueing at the EasyJet bag drop with the returning skiers, many looking tired or hung over. Already a hundred people were waiting, but the staff managed the increasing numbers checking in so well that I only waited fifteen minutes. There were no queues at all at the security clearance gates. I guess people checked in ahead of me may have chose to eat lunch or drink before going through. I'd eaten on the train, so went into the departures area to wait the hour until the boarding gate was announced, time which quickly passed doing my Duolingo French and Spanish drills for the day, and sending messages.

You're told to allow twenty minutes to walk from the Departures area to the gate 'island' EasyJet uses for departing flights. This includes time for passport control, where there can be queues, but all four 

duty officers were unoccupied when I passed through. Time seemed to pass quickly and boarding began ten minutes early, which is understandable, as the flight was full, and many passengers had brought bulky hand baggage on board, some of which had to be relegated to the hold, adding time to the departure process. 

Even so, we left on time and flew all the way to Bristol over continuous cloud cover as the sun was setting. The pilot told us that the aircraft would turn west north of Gatwick and roughly follow the M4 most of the rest of the way. Watching the sun move from the window I was sitting beside, to the window ahead of me, was the only time in the flight I had a rough idea of journey progress. 

When we landed, we were delayed from disembarkation by some problem with the mobile stairs, which approached the aircraft and stopped short, where attempts were make to get the height of approach and ramp extension correct. It made me wonder if the person driving the machine was uncertain of what they were doing. This had the pilot call for another set of steps to be fetched for disembarking from the rear door. It was an amusing episode, which at least gave some passengers time to get their coats on, and cabin bags out ready to move.

It's the second time in six months that I've flown out of and into Bristol, and had to use the ePassport gates. These are now so slick and quick, I didn't expect to be through so  quick. The technology used previously for the ePassport gates has been replaced, and the number of booths doubled. I'd hazard a guess that rather than a local face recognition scan being compared initially to the national passport database, it's linked to an airport server containing the passport details of all on the passenger list for the flight in question. All this information is available to take advantage of from the moment anyone checks in for their flight. But, it does require a huge amount of reliable computing resources. Fine it it works, chaos when it doesn't.

Bus then to Temple Meads Station and a convenient train to Cardiff and bus to Pontcanna. Home in time for the Archers, and supper at the usual time, with thankfully, no mail needing attention, just my Windows 10 PC's in need of updating. After a month or longer away, this is always an irksome task taking hours, or get caught out later when you really need to use one quickly. Thank heavens for instantly updating Chromebook, despite its few minor irritations. I'll sleep well tonight. 

   

Ascent to Jaman

Having gone to bed rather late, I didn't get the early start I could have done with. It was nearly noon by the time I left the house. The sun was no longer shining and low cloud had moved in. Even so, I took the funicular railway from behind Church House 300m uphill to Glion for the train cremaillère and ascend as far as the station at the Col de Jaman. I decided not to go right to the top to Rochers de Naye at 2,000m, not knowing for sure how deep the cloud layer would be. Last time I went to the top, a long time ago, we saw nothing. We arrived in cloud, and it was snowing.

By the time the train reached 1,000 Caux, we were above the cloud and the sky was endlessly blue, and the higher we went, the more complete was the coverage of snow, although it didn't look all that deep to me. The railways halt at Jaman has a snack bar, but opens only when the single ski lift is open on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. I imagine it's open more regularly at other times of year when the Col is a paradise for walkers.

It was a sheer delight to walk on the snow under bright blue skies in the sun. There was no wind, so it didn't feel cold, but I had the mountainside to myself! It was rather strange to be so alone in this fast space. I felt a little vulnerable, and was very careful, climbing up on to the ski slope to get a broader view for photos.

A railway worker had also boarded the train at Glion, having carried half a dozen steel girders across from the railway siding, and placed them in the baggage truck at the front of the train, whose main job is to carry skis, and supplies for the restaurant at the very top. The train stopped for him at the end of a roofed cutting on the line 50m from the halt. The girders were unloaded there and placed on a rack attached to a snowmobile parked nearby. By the time I got off the train, he was starting up the snowmobile and drove off down the hill.

I walked for about half an hour above the halt, then headed back to wait for the returning train. Soon the railway worker reappeared and sat at one of the picnic tables outside the snack bar, and started eating his lunch. The distinctive sound of the cog wheel train coming out of the tunnel that links the the Col to the summit announced its approach. We boarded about ten minutes later, and descended at much the same pace as we ascended, enabling me to catch some views of the mountainside that I missed on the way up, before going back into the cloud layer at 800m.

These weather conditions are typical of what we lived with at the other end of the lake for much of the winter. We were fortunate to be able to drive up into the Jura and do ski de fond in blue skies above the cloud. Happy days - and such a lovely memory of today to take home with me.

Early Candlemass

I was asked if we could celebrate Candlemass early this Sunday, and it seemed a good idea ' Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace ... etc', as it's my last Sunday on this tour of duty. So we started with a simple blessing of candles, used the relevant readings, and concluded with 'Faithful Vigil Ended. It all fitted nicely. I could have done without the round of applause after Neil's words of thanks at the end. I'm just happy to be still working, able to travel and feel a bit useful sometimes.

Talking of travel, I had a Communion service to celebrate in Villars in the evening. I walked into Montreux gare in time to catch a train to Aigle which arrived twenty minutes before my connecting bus at five. I was glad of this as I needed time to find the bus stop. Now Aigle has a couple of narrow gauge lines running up into the mountains, side of the valley behind the town. One goes to Leysin and the other to Les Diablerets. This is run by Transports Publiques du Chablais, so these trains and the buses have their own special grass green livery, and platforms on the town side of the main line. 

There's an hourly TPC bus service which climbs up through Ollon to Villars at 1,300m on a road which I drove a couple of times back in the summer, and was glad not to have to in either direction today, given the amount of ski resort traffic. There were plenty of skiers coming off the bus and a few laden with luggage going up to stay. There was a relaxed and cheery mood among the mostly young people coming and going at the bus stop.

The surrounding snow capped mountain peak looked exquisite while the sun was setting during the ascent, and I got some fairly decent photos from inside the bus, whenever I could avoid reflections from the bus interior. This changed continuously with the light changing each time we went through a hairpin bend. At the hamlet of Gryon, Guy got on the bus carrying the Jack Russel terrier he takes everywhere with him in a rucksack. The dog is at ease with this. It's safer on mountain roads where it's impractical to keep him on a lead. Guy's a congregational worship leader in Villars, and works in Aiglon College. He's a renowned butterfly expert in this part of the world. It was good to meet him again.

There were ten of us for the service, and afterwards, by pre-arrangement Guy took me through the darkened streets of the village to visit a couple made housebound when one of them broke a limb just after arriving for their winter break from the UK before Christmas. Given the bus timetable it couldn't be a long visit, but the essential purpose was to take them Holy Communion. I was glad to do this, even though time was short and we had to walk very briskly to the bus stop afterwards to be sure not to get left behind, otherwise it would be another hour before the last bus of the day, and near zero temperatures to wait around in.

Arriving half an hour later in Aigle, I was on a train for Montreux within a few minutes. Inevitably there were skiers going home,  but also a number of young soldiers, smartly dressed in uniform. I'm not sure if they were heading back to barracks after a weekend at home, or heading home after a weekend of training. Conscription is still the norm in Switzerland, and once basic training is finished there may be options for completing the two years required. Also conscripts get called back for a refresher course every so often, and I believe that can happen into middle age, unless you have some kind of exemption. 

The non stop train takes just eleven minutes to get to Montreux, and I was able to take a bus back to Territet, as the aller-retour ticket issued to me was actually a multi-zone carte journalière that works out at the same price if not slightly cheaper, especially with my demi-tarif fare card for the month. It's certainly saved money for the church and for me. I could have used it more, but in a place as pleasant to stay as this, you don't always fancy going far. Still, a last outing tomorrow, for pleasure not duty, before getting down to bag packing and cleaning up.

After supper, I watched another episode of McMafia, which I still find slow moving, and not entirely convincing. There's a lot of conversation in Russian with subtitles. To me the actors seem impassive if not wooden, with their different Slavonic manner of self-presentation. I always feel as if I am about to lose interest in the storyline. Interestingly enough critical opinion is divided. The Telegraph's Michael Hogan is fulsome with praise. The New Statesman's Rachel Cooke has some sharp comments to make: "McMafia’s slick tedium is born of the fact the series has no heart" and  ".. as a drama the feeling persists that the actors and director are trying to pass an electric current through a jelly." Slick tedium. I like that.

Lausanne explored

Overcast, but no rain today, so I took the stopping train from Territet to Lausanne for a photo outing. I have little recollection of going right through the Old Town on the north side of the station on my previous visits, as these centred around visiting Christchurch, the fine Victorian Anglican church on the south side of the station, and walking from there down to Ouchy and the lake.

Lausanne is built on a succession of steep hills rising up from Lac Leman. On the summit of one is the 12th century Cathedral and just below it, the original university buildings on one side and the museum on another. The university, founded in 1537 and very much a fruit of the reforming work of Pierre Viret, who is to Lausanne what Calvin is to Geneva, and Farel to Neuchatel. It has fourteen and a half thousand students, and its new campuses have spread out across the coastal plain outside the city as far as Ecublens.

The Cathedral is a 12th century masterpiece, whose nave resembles that of Geneva's, but Lausanne's chancel ends in an apse with ambulatory. The reformation stripped the building of ornament and oratories, save one small one with an ancient stone altar in an east facing niche of the south transept, more of an historic artefact than a place of devotion. The stark uncluttered simplicity of the building displays the sheer beauty of its medieval architecture. 

A Gothic south porch has been 're-purposed', by closing it off as an entrance, glazing it, and introducing cushions for the porch stone benches and some simple soft furnishings, to make it a meeting room or prayer group space. There were three organs, one in the west end gallery over the entrance porch, the other two at either end of the nave. 

Many of the streets of the Old Town are paved with cobbles and pedestrianised. There's a modest strip of a park dedicated in honour of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and a huge plaza in front of the University main building which hosts an open air market. By the time I'd climbed up this far it was winding up for the day, but I was amazed at how many stalls there were selling cheese.

The Swiss Coop hosts a five storey department store with a food supermarket in the basement, and restaurant with balcony at the top. It gives a great view of the very varied city-scape. Several bridges span the steep valley between hills. Everywhere is interestingly built over making best possible use of urban housing space in times past. The modern Metro system has its underground terminus up in the Old Town. One line descends to Ouchy, the other reaches out to the University campuses. One of the high arched road bridges has beneath it a bridge carrying a Metro line out from underground on its way west. There's lots to see. It's an interesting place, and I look forward to a further visit when we return here in August.

Curiosity led me to take the westbound Metro for its half hour journey to its other terminus in the main line train station at Renans, which hosts a couple of branch lines into the Jura to the north, as well as the Metro. The station is currently being upgraded, and several areas are cordoned off and shrouded with plastic. The range of my Carte Journalière extended as far as Renans, which meant I was able to use a main line train regional, to take me right back to Territet. This meant using the station subway to reach a far platform. Normally no problem, but the subway entrance from the platform was one of the fenced off zones, and there was no signage to say how to reach its other entrance on the station forecourt. No signage to say there was a subway at all. Locals know all this but visitors, birds of passage like me? Normally the Swiss are superb on signage. I suspect this was a problem caused by thoughtless building contractors.

I reached Territet at half past four, went into Church House, collected a shopping bag, then returned to Montreux on the 201 bus that stops just outside every ten minutes. This way I was just in time to get some food items I missed out on yesterday, before the Metro Centre shut - five on Saturdays. I've been caught out before.

This evening's BBC Four double episode of Engrenages/Spiral was a brilliant as ever. Events unfold at a pace with several stories developing and intersecting concurrently. It's beautifully edited and engages attention well. I thought the tenth episode would be the last, but apparently not. Two more to come, when I'm back home again.

Wilderness Theatre

Today was another day of clouds and rain, so not a day for another excursion. On the other hand, I needed time to prepare two Sunday sermons, a Candlemass one for Territet and an Epiphany Four one for Villars. In the evening I watched the second episode of the Swedish Crime Drama 'Rebecka Martinsson: Arctic Murders' shown on More 4 channel. There was a full length introductory story last week, in reality a double episode with no titles and credits in the middle. We're down to hour long episodes from now on.

Its main character is a young Stockholm hot shot lawyer, who grew up in a small village up on the Arctic circle near the border with Finland, called Kiruna. She returns there when an old friend is murdered and becomes involved with investigating the crime. After this she starts working while on leave from work for the local CID team as Prosecutor on other cases. A rather curious story line, but maybe less odd if you understand how the Swedish investigative system works.

It's rather like BBC Wales' series 'Y Gwyllt' in that the wild and beautiful landscape plays a starring role in the drama. We see it in its summer glory, as well as harsh winter severity. The photography is breathtaking. Distances between villages along straight roads are immense and filled with forests, lakes, seemingly deserted. It reminds me a little of the Egin Uur region of Mongolia which I got to travel through back in 1999. It's awesomely beautiful, but takes days to get anywhere. Investigative crime drama tends to be slow moving in nature. Pacing it to ensure the viewer or reader is remains interested enough to follow must be particularly challenging with this kind of scenic backdrop. So far so good, I'd say. Looking forward to next Friday's episode, back home in Cardiff.

A trip on the Train des Pléiades

I had intended to visit Lausanne today, but got caught up with writing a document for Ashley until lunchtime, and that discouraged me. Then I decided I should arrange to pay a pastoral call to one of the Villars church musicians, Brigitte aged 82, who's been hospitalised for many months due to advancing osetoporosis. I heard that she'd recently moved to another elderly people's residence in a hamlet on the mountainside above Blonay, overlooking Vevey, but wasn't sure which, as there are three in the commune. 

I called her mobile, and a few minutes later she answered on the landline in her room. Once I know which residence, I was able to hunt for it on Google Maps, and plan how to get there, as I was confusingly offered several different routes. Fortunately, Brigitte said that there was a train from Vevey which stops close to the residence, at gare Les Chevalleyres and the CFF train app was more helpful in revealing the rest of the information. This station is just within adjacent zones of the VMCV Public Transport network.

Les Chevalleyres is about 900m above sea level, in effect 500m above Vevey gare. There's a branch line with a modern narrow gauge train cremaillere, which ascends hourly to the Préalpes resort of Les Pléiades at 1,361m. The train climbs through modern suburban housing estates, then vineyards, pasture and woodland. I was fortunate to catch a connecting train to Vevey in time to arrive at the residence before sunset. I had an hour and a half with Brigitte before my return train. We talked in French for the entire time, even though she speaks English well. It's not the first me I've conversed about theology and spirituality in French, although not for many years. I enjoyed the challenge, as it really does concentrate the mind.

I couldn't buy a return ticket, and should have got a carte journaliere. If the visit had been a short one, a standard time expiry ticket would have done. I needed another such ticket for the return trip. There's no ticket machine on most of the request stop stations on this line, just a hotline phone. A brief call advised me to inform the train driver and when the trained stopped at Blonay, the driver told me to get one from a ticket machine on another platform. Easier said than done in the dark. First find the often uncooperative machine, then persuade it to deliver the ticket you want, all in four minutes. A nerve wracking experience, but I made it back on to the train with seconds to spare.

Back at Church House again an hour later, I switched on my Sony HX50, and was surprised to find that the live screen display blemish had disappeared. Whatever spec of material caused this may have been subject to surface static charge inside the camera, and that doesn't last, or behave in a consistent manner, but for now, it's gone.

   

Walk to Vevey

A mild sunny day, for a change, and after celebrating the midweek BCP Eucharist, I received a text message from Valdo proposing an afternoon walk. We met at the débarcadière in Montreux, and walked along the lakeside all the way to Vevey, stopping on the way to look at La Tour de Peilz. The lakeside Chaeau de la Tour de Peilz is now the home of the Swiss Museum of Games, and has a collection of examples from all over the world, with opportunities to try some of them out, apparently.

The protestant Parish Church freshly restored and re-opened a few months ago has a stone spire atop its tower typical of the alpine region of the Rhone. It sits along the edge of a large square with a big primary school opposite. There's an arched passage way between adjacent streets in the base of the tower, and a spacious adjoining patio contains a large permanent roofed canopy, where people can gather under shelter to socialise before or after church. It's a feature you don't see very often, and I imagine this has many other uses as well. 

The building is dedicated to St Théodule Apostle of the Valais, who began his mission in Martigny in the fourth century. The building dates from the early fourteenth century, probably around the time the Chateau was built. Its galleries are eighteenth century, but the rest of the building is typically Vaudois protestant, making the most of its ancient lines, with its windows furnished with fine 20th century stained glass. 

After half an hour in the town centre, we walked on to Vevey and had a cup of tea in the Hostellerie de Genève in the Grande Place, before taking a train back to Montreux on which Valdo could carry on to Aigle. You can see the photos I took here.

Digital Camera Odessy

Much rain, and overcast most of today and yesterday, so I occupied myself with domestic tasks and sermon writing, with a walk into town and back for shopping when conditions eased. Somehow the days slipped by, and in the evening Dan Cruickshank's series of programmes on the Land of the Pharoahs made interesting watching. He's an engaging storyteller, and the landscape photography was breathtaking.

With time to spare for reviewing my recent photographs, I have discovered that images from my Sony HX50 have all acquired a blemish, which is visible in lake photographs. Lens cleaning hasn't removed it. At first it was in the bottom right hand corner of the preview screen, and I found that if I switched from 4:3 to 16:9 proportioned images, the blemish was covered by the sensor mask. Then the blemish appeared in a new more central position. Changing back from 16:9 to 4:3 revealed that the blemish had moved to a new position, rather than a second blemish appearing. I assume that a spec of dust has penetrated the lens barrel and has settled on the sensor or on an internal lens. I have no idea if it's possible to get it cleaned, it could cost as much as a replacement model.

A quick check through this blog revealed that I bought this camera in February 2014. It has been a constant travelling companion ever since. Assuming I didn't accidentally reset the image counter in that time, I've taken eight and a half thousand photos with it. I started with digital photography in 2001. Before that, I used a lightweight Olympus trip and a Practica SLR 35mm film camera for 20 years. The Practica used DDR made Zeiss lenses, and was the start of a brand loyalty that led me to Sony digital cameras in the first place.

The HX50 was my sixth compact digital camera, the longest I've had in continuous use. I had a succession of four in nine years until I retired, a period during which digital image technologies advanced rapidly and consumer camera prices dropped, offering more for less. Its predecessor, a Sony HX5, I lost on a bike ride through orchards near Alcanar on the Valencia-Catalunya border in September 2012. I bought a replacement for it next day in Carrefour, with an equivalent ten times zoom. I still possess it, but rarely use it since I acquired the HX50.

The story of my relationship with my bulkier Superzoom and DSLR cameras has unfolded over the past five years, and evolves much more slowly. For me convenience and portability have a much higher priority, and yet, using a camera phone, no matter how good its quality may be, I regard as a no alternative, last resort. I never feel I have the same control over a touch screen device, and that's the deciding factor.
 
   

Indoor Sunday

Another rainy day here, with two dozen people for the Sunday Eucharist. Afterwards I spoke with the elder sister of a teenager who's started singing in the choir. They're from Bulgaria. The lad is still in school, but his sister who's been here longer, has run her own restaurant in Montreux, and is now setting up a new business to import niche market food and drink products from back home, aware of the growing interest in traditional hand crafted products in Western Europe. It's good to meet a young entrepreneur in tune with contemporary interests.

After a leisurely lunch and siesta I was ready to go out for a stroll, but rain persisted, so I stayed in did some writing, and listened to a BBC local radio webcast in which the release of Kath and Anto's new Sonrisa album 'From Today' was mentioned and a track from it played for the first time. Clare has been in Kenilworth looking after Rhiannon this weekend and she returned home with the album CD. I greatly look forward to hearing this when I return in ten days time, as the track broadcasted was a beautiful piece of music. craftsmanship. It makes me very proud.

I watched another episode of McMafia, summarised in a quote I read somewhere as 'English toffs and the Russian underworld'. Oh really? Well maybe. I can't quite suspend disbelief, although I can accept how complex is the web of international financial trading within which criminal enterprises hide, and how it's possible to snoop on people, know just where they are in this interconnected world, and do nasty things to them. But surely this applies to crime fighters as well as criminals. Can crooks really do bad things, so often with impunity? Is it true that law enforcement world wide is so under-funded that it's unable to keep track, so their adversaries are always one jump ahead?

There was an interesting 'File on Four' radio programme this afternoon about criminal organisations which issue fake university degree certificates, to people who want to buy professional qualification credentials they think will do them some good in the job market. As if this isn't lucrative enough, perpetrators turn to extortion and blackmail of clients, threatening to expose them to authorities and cost them their jobs and maybe residence permits unless they pay extra. 

It makes use of thousands of websites, and uses VOIP telephone contact with enquirers which can spoof caller i/d, and ensure the real life location of the scammers is very hard for non-experts to trace. It's just like the people who ring up and tell you they're from TalkTalk, troubleshooting your compromised internet router, using real phone numbers gleaned from a hack of the company subscriber database a couple of years back. These new technologies are very capable, but have made crime and deception possible on a mass scale, and internationally, in a way few thought possible at the turn of the 21st century.

Ascending Sion

This afternoon, I took the train to Sion the capital of the Canton du Valais. It's one of Switzerland's oldest Christian centres. St Theodule, the Apostle of the Vaiais began evangelisation at Martigny, an already established Roman trading post. In 589, his episcopal successor moved the mission up the Rhone valley to settlement, subsequently called Sion, as there are two steep rocky promontories in the river plain, places for refuge from hostile tribes. 

Both promontories are surmounted by fortified buildings, the ruins of the 13th century Chateau de Tourbillon are on top of one, and on the other is the Basilica of our Lady of Valère the site of the original 12th century Cathedral and Bishop and Canons' residences. At the foot of the promontories is the well preserved 14th-15th century old town, where today's Cathedral, diocesan and episcopal headquarters are located. Next to the Cathedral is another 14-15th century church built in honour of St Theodule.

It started snowing not long after I got off the train and it snowed for the rest of my visit. It was just above freezing, so the snow was rather wet, making photography challenging. The old town is about a kilometre from the station, then there's a long steep climb to the summit of Valère. It's about 100 metres above the valley floor. I had difficulty finding the access road at first, but followed a steep unpaved footpath. When the snow began to persist underfoot, I lost my nerve and turned back. Then, I found the turning I'd missed and resumed the ascent, and reached the car park just where the rugged footpath emerged. At least I benefited from the extra exercise.

The Cathedral is enclosed by defensive walls. The out-buildings have become a museum celebrating five thousand years of human habitation in the Valais. The 11th century choir and sanctuary are out of bounds at the moment as a major restoration is under way, and just the nave is visitable. High on the west wall of the nave is the world famous organ, whose innards are said to date from 1430. The case looks as if it's more modern, however. I look forward to returning and making the climb on a future occasion, when the weather is better and the restoration completed.

The highlight of the evening again was another double episode of 'Engrenages / Spiral' on BBC Four. It never disappoints. So glad the telly here has several UK Freeview channels, having to sit through all ten episodes on catch-up TV when I return would be an emotional endurance exercise.

Another welcome guest

Last night, Clare told me a renewal notice hard arrived in the mail from the DVLA regarding my driving license. After 70 you have to renew every three years and formally register any new health issues. It's three years already since I received my photo-card license replacement. How time flies! 

So, this morning, I went on-line to the DVLA website and went through the renewal form. I am now obliged to declare my use of specs for driving. Even though I can still read a number plate correctly at the prescribed twenty metres, most of the time, I suffer from eye strain driving without them at night, and notice sometimes that my eyes are sometimes slower to focus sharply as well, so better safe than sorry, in matters of driving confidence. 

Keeping a set of specs to use in the car, as opposed to always remembering to carry them is the next thing I have to organise, when I get home. Meanwhile, with help from Owain, I need to give the DVLA feedback about the default typeface size of its registration form, which is rather small for older eyes, in contrast to mainstream .go.uk web interfaces. The hunt for the right channel is under way. Getting in touch with DVLA digitally or otherwise is a rather elusive business, it seems.

Archdeacon Adele is meeting with the St John's Church Council this evening to explain and plan the recruitment process for a another Chaplain. The idea of sharing a priest with Lausanne Chaplaincy has been abandoned and understandably so. Apart from logistic issues entailed, there are bound to be recruitment difficulties, as Lausanne already works in pastoral partnership with the Old Catholic disaspora in the region, so the successful priest needs to be a fluent or bilingual French speaker. Finding a priest to match, and meet Montreux's needs as well isn't practicable.

Adele arrives early enough for us a have a meal and a chat together, so I went into town and bought some white fish to cook. This I poached in a creamy mushroom with almond sauce, and was pleased with the result. It's a long late journey home to Murten in the Canon of Fribourg for her afterwards, with train changes involved. Midnight would be the earliest she'd arrive, if not one in the morning. It's hard to imagine what it must have been like when Switzerland and Italy were one Archceaconry with the incumbent priest based in Milan. Adele took on the role in retirement, and with just eight chaplaincies, it keeps her quite busy. She has my admiration.
   

News from abroad

I was delighted to welcome my friend Valdo here this morning. He'd come ready to go out a walk, but we had another wet and windy day that made the prospect unattractive, so we stayed in and we talked, drank tea and ate together for seven straight hours - church, politics, computing, and since his retirement, he's acquired a taste for bird watching, and avian photography with his new Lumix TZ DMC 101 camera. It was great to share enthusiasms again, especially as he is learning how to identify all the different aquatic birds that live or overwinter on or around the lake. He let me take a copy of a multi lingual glossary of lake bird species, an invaluable asset for talking with others out in the field, if the occasion arises. We're hoping the weather will pick up again next week and allow us to take a walk together. That would be a great delight.

Finally, a week after it was posted by Clare, a packet of Mistletoe herb tea arrive in the mailbox. It's something I've been trying out over the past month or so, to see if it has any impact on my blood pressure, which doesn't seem to be impacted by the standard regular medication I am compelled to take by my anxious doctors. Since I lost a stone in weight, I've felt generally fit and well, and my quality of life has improved, so long as I pace myself, prepare and rest well after intense activity. It is a bit of a mystery, but I don't see why I should impair my existence with unnecessary worry.

This evening, Rev Doreen, Curate of St George's Malaga phone to discuss plans she is developing for Confirmation preparation groups of adults and children, while I'm there on locum duty. Bishop David visits on Ascension Eve. It's a great opportunity to share in catechetical ministry, especially with adults. The group consists of Nigerian migrants, many of whom are from different church backgrounds and have never been confirmed, although the are regular attenders. For most of them their first language is Ibo, their second  is everyday Spanish and English is their third, and few of them are well educated. It's going to be a very special kind of challenge to work with them, and I'm looking forward to it immensely.

  

Weathering wnter

This last few days the weather has been unusually bad, overcast with rain and winds driving up the lake, producing white crested waves from time to time. I've walked each day into town to shop for food, but not felt inclined to spend much more time outdoors. 

Tuesday afternoon Monica invited a small group of us to her house above Fontanivet for afternoon coffee and cake, and a discussion about matters of faith and discipleship which emerge for daily life. It's meant to be a bible study, and while we refer to biblical themes, getting around to consulting scripture is a more elusive task. It seems to me that often what people need to wrestle with is clarifying the questions confronting them and need to take to a study of scripture.

This set me off remembering and telling about the Geneva adult Christian education programme established before my time as Chaplain there, and apparently still continuing today - The Atelier Oecumenique de Théologie. This two year course invites participants to set the agenda for learning and enquiry, identify together the issues of faith, and then explore them from whatever angle will help discussion and understanding. Participants develop their own expertise, as well as being helped by the course facilitators, and over the course of time, it covers everything you'd expect a course of Christian catechesis to cover, though not necessarily in any expected order. 

I think this is what reliance on the Spirit of Truth leading us into all Truth really means. I'd love to be with a group of learners for long enough to work with this experimental educational model, but as I don't settle in any community for long enough these days, the opportunities are no longer there. Inevitably, old age is full of hindsight!

This morning, none of the regulars were able to come for the midweek BCP Holy Communion, but a celebration was nevertheless possible because a lady who used to attend regularly who now lives the other side of Lausanne arrived, having come on one of the less than frequent trains which stop at Territet gare. There's something to be said for being there and available in case of the unexpected arrival of someone who wants to worship, even if this happens only very occasionally. Being a priest is about having the time to be available, opening and listening, even if most often its a matter of just being there listening to God, listening for God.

  

A special calling

There were two dozen of us for the Sunday Eucharist. We learned that Natalya, the homeless young woman who found us in church last Sunday is staying in a mountain holiday chalet, and likely to stay there a while, as she still cannot decide what she wants to do next or where she wants to go. It's still unclear what more can be done to help her, until she makes up her mind. Will a time of solitude free from pressure be fruitful? Or is she too accustomed to surviving in her own company for it to make a difference? It's hard to tell. At least she's in a safe place for now, and that's what matters.

After discussion with Clare and Church Warden Jane this morning, I've accepted an invitation to return here in August. We both love being here and would like to share time with Sister-in-Law Ann who had booked to come this time, but was too sick to travel, afflicted by the horrible 'flu that's killing people currently in Britain. I feel very much at ease ministering here. 

Although it's not as big and diverse a congregation as Geneva, it has many similar qualities of openness and diversity with several native Swiss English speakers among expats and visitors. It's a special place of welcome for people passing through very occasionally, or those who come and stay periodically, as well as residents. The church now seek a permanent chaplain, but cannot any longer afford a full time priest. I hope and pray that a person is found who can really value the qualities of this community and the special role it plays in the Christian witness to the people of this region, as well as to vastly greater numbers who pass through. Being a sign of stability and consistency in this changing world is a challenging vocation, at a time when many churches are made so vulnerable by ignorance, indifference and lack of support.

  

Pêcheurs du Lac Léman

Although the square next to Montreux's market hall is now entirely clear of remaining construction material following the long slow dismantling of Christmas Market temporary structures, I noticed yesterday afternoon that the Market Hall itself was still host to several temporary structures, so I went across and investigated what was there, and discovered a patinoire had been set up under cover of its permanent wrought iron structure. 

This particular skating rink was unlike one I'd ever seen before with a smooth polymer surface, on which ordinary ice skates could be used. Wearing safety gloves was an obligatory requirement to avoid unpleasant injuries. I know artificial indoor ski slopes have existed for the past half century, and I remember their polymer surface resembled a carpet of fine bristles, though that had probably become more sophisticated with the passage of time. It would certainly be cheaper to run than one with an ice surface, and especially in a milder winter lakeside climate. Towns and villages higher up in the mountains can rely on averagely lower temperatures to make maintenance of an ice surfaced rink cost effective. It's seven years or so now since I last tried ice skating with the grandchildren. I wasn't tempted to try this alternative, as I feel over protective towards my knee joints these days, and the same for skiing too, which I used to love. 

Walking into town alongside the lake, I noticed for the first time a motorboat off-shore equipped with a couple of lightweight mechanical hoisting devices. I could hear the whine of battery powered motors clearly across the water. A couple of fishermen were out inspecting nets and collecting their catch. This made me think of Valdo's son-in-law is a lake fisherman, based near Nyon. Earning a living entirely from catching lake fish is becoming increasingly difficult, due to scarcity, which has much to do with climate change. The waters down at the shallower west end of Lac Leman are warmer than they used to be, which is not so favourable for the lake fish to breed. Waters at the east end of the lake are deeper, and that much colder, in the vicinity where the Rhone flows into it. It's said to take more than eleven years for Rhone water to enter and exit the lake.

Today, I walked up the lake to Villeneuve, the small town at the end of the lake beyond the Chateau de Chillon, which developed in the 12th-13th centuries at the same time as the Chateau. It has a fine Parish Church of the same age, dedicated to St Paul, whose architecture reflects the influence and Cistercian monasticism in this region. There are a couple of long straight streets of old houses with many and varied small shops and cafes, giving it the feel of a village. New housing areas stretch up vineyard covered slopes overshadowed by Vaudois Alpine peaks. It has a lakeside beach and boating marina, plus a working railway station, and easy access to the autoroute. A very desirable place to live, with the tourism hot-spots of Montreux and Vevey a convenient distance away. I bet it's very expensive to buy a house there too!

Beyond the marina there's a short length of canal, which carries excess water from a reservoir called Lac de l'Hongrin 870 metres up in the Prealpes Vaudois. This is home to several small boats, among them, those used by lake fishermen, plus 'La Demoiselle', a distinctive traditional barque lémanique sail boat of the kind used on the lake for centuries, to ferry heavy cargo in the age before steamships. Geneva has the barque 'Neptune' similar to Villeneuve's, and Lausanne has 'La Vaudoise'. There are five altogether, two of them in France voisine. These have been restored and can be seen out and about in good weather.

Along the banks of the canal are a series of privately owned wooden holiday chalets. One of them serves as a land base for the lake fishermen. 

The cost of a locally sourced fish for a favourite regional dish is an eye-watering £46 a kilo, which reflects both real scarcity and increased demand. I understand that much of the produce consumed here is imported coming from Irish or Eastern European lakes.

The road behind the line of chalets leads into la réserve naturelle des Grangettes. It's a large wetland conservation area which stretches across the valley floor, with the Rhone running through it into the lake, and the only one of its kind hereabouts. 

This is a region where migratory species find a respite during long continental journeys, or where they over-winter and breed. I walked a short distance into the reserve and climbed the 20m high wooden observation town. In the field below was a group of half a dozen bird-watchers, with telescopes and cameras, all facing a particular corner for a while before moving on. What they were looking at, or looking for? I wondered. There wasn't much avian activity while I was in the tower, probably the wrong time of day, so I climbed down and set off to walk back to Territet. As I reached the road out of the reserve I briefly saw what I believe was a black heron in flight, said to be a visitor to the  reserve - sheer luck! Also amazing, was to see a roadside hazel tree festooned with catkins, in the middle of January. It was a splendid outing in excellent conditions, a walk of just 9km from the church. Now I've seen Villenuve, next time, I'll take the bus and walk for much longer in the nature reserve. It's bound to be rewarding.

The highlight of the evening, yet again was another double episode of Parisien crimmie 'Engrenage/ Spiral'. Full of socks, twists and turns, it never fails to hold the attention. Even if its revelations are on times distressing and sordid, this feels truthful and not overdone. In the nasty world of crooks and cops, everyone is flawed, compromised or hurting in some way, and seeing justice done is a real struggle, against oneself as well as adversaries.

Quiet Montreux

After a late breakfast this morning, I received a call from the electrician to say that he would come by and fit the replacement boiler thermostat this afternoon. I was eating lunch when he arrived, so he and his apprentice must have eaten (and probably got up and started work) earlier than I. The job was done in ten minutes, and the boiler began to work normally straight away. I was then free to go into town and do some shopping. It's not because I don't have transport to enable me to do one big weekly supermarket trip, but rather prefer to walk and buy what I need a little and often, which is preferable when catering for oneself. This combines nourishment and exercise!

The streets of Montreux are fairly quiet at the moment and apart from weekends the flow of traffic is less dense. It's taken the best part of two weeks to dismantle the lumberjack village log cabin themed Christmas market buildings along the quayside. It's  low season along the Riviera, and only a shortage of skiable snow would lead to an increase of lakeside visitors. Alpine resorts with ample snow are very busy this month, so down here, some restaurants, small stores and gift shops close down and take a holiday.

This week there's an elevated risk of avalanches as temperatures are not as low as they need to be, so snow is somewhat less stable. Zermatt and some other high resorts had colossal amounts of snow dumped in a short time, cutting off roads and railways, making skiing impossible, until the resort machinery could get to grips with it.  

It's rained little this past few day, so the skies have been mostly cloudy with a few sunny breaks. It has meant some beautiful sunsets however, and this evening was no exception, as the lake reflected the orange glow of the clouds. I wonder what it's like up in resorts that are above the cloudbase?

Territet night visitors

I must have been disturbed in my sleep last night, as I woke up just after one, and heard a sharp noise which sounded as if it came from somewhere in the house, something falling down perhaps? Hopefully, not an intruder. I got up and looked around, and returned to bed. A few moments later and I heard the sound of a noisy diesel engine being fired up, not the sound of a car or a lorry, but a generator, right beneath the window, Then it became noticeably lighter outside. I parted the curtains and was amazed to see an array of fire engines outside, bathed in emergency floodlights! 

There were three support vehicles and two tenders parked in the area around the nearest bus stop, and the Avenue de la Riviera, the main road was closed off by parked fire service vehicles. About a dozen firefighters in full kit were at work unpacking and setting up equipment, and by the looks of it, setting up a Fire Command Centre. There was, however, no sight or smell of fire. The roads were dry, so no floods to contend with. I wondered about the possibility of a scaffolding collapse at the old Hotel des Alpes Theatre Ballroom under restoration nearby, or a fire within, but there was no activity over in that direction. So, I concluded this activity was a night time rehearsal for dealing with a major incident, or else a training session on the deployment of new equipment at night.

Having taken a few photos I returned to bed. After half an hour or so the pompiers packed up quietly and left, the generator powering down last, leaving only street lights and the silence of a winter's night, punctuated by the occasional passing goods train. 

A memorable Swiss lunch

There were three of us for the BCP Communion service this morning, and we remembered Christ's baptism. Just before the service, an electrician called to inspect the hot water boiler, which stopped delivering hot water over the weekend. It seems a new thermostat is needed, and has to be ordered.

Afterwards, Jeff and Joy invited churchwarden Jane and myself to go out to lunch with them. First, we walked back from church to their lakeside garden flat not far from the Casino for a drink beforehand. Then we drove to the restaurant and parked near the débarcadière, close to the Hotel Splendid, whose restaurant we then dined in. 

Most other restaurants on the Grand Rue are on the ground floor, and reflect the culinary cultural change which has taken place over the past quarter of a century, with the influx of Italian and oriental restaurants, catering for visitors from all over the world. The Hotel Splendid is up in the first floor, above the shops and other restaurants, and still serves typical Swiss cuisine. I ate saumon truite meunière, washed down with white wine from the Clos de St Vincent vineyard, just above the old town, fifteen minutes walk away from the hotel. This was rather special, and the wine itself it certainly one which a local restaurant can serve with confidence.

I did some shopping before walking back to Church House. In the church car park stood the Subaru Impreza, without its number plates, waiting to be collected for scrapping, since it failed its MOT and is not worth repairing. Such a shame, as it was an entertaining sporty car to drive. Even so, I'm just as happy on public transport and walking around town.

No call came from the electrician during the rest of the day to arrange installation of a new thermostat. The water, however seemed a little less tepid following the electrician's visit. The temperature gauge confirmed the change I noticed. The theromostat still needs replacing, though it's not quite dead.

Parting, meeting and thoughts on homelessness

We walked into Montreux Gare this morning, in good time to catch a train that would reach Geneva airport by eleven o'clock in just eighty minutes. Lac Leman was shrouded in mist with just the snow capped peaks of the Savoyard Alps visible. Enchanting, mysterious, magical. We kissed goodbye at the security check entry, and I was back on a train to Montreux just after one. I had time to shop and cook myself lunch and eat it before welcoming a group of half a dozen church people for tea and cake with topical discussion on biblical themes. It was good to have guests in, to take the edge of being home alone in this large and welcoming abode.

Following the surprise appearance of Natalya at the Epiphany party on Sunday, discussion focused on homelessness, and the image of the Holy Family in exile. The reasons for anyone becoming homeless are generally complex, and it seems that modern life, although it caters so well in many respects, for needy and vulnerable people, doesn't cater for everyone in this kind of trouble. Here in Switzerland, so famed for its hospitality towards exiles and refugees over many decades (it is said, accounting for one in six of the population), there are still people who slip through the net because they are sans-papiers, not registered on anybody's system, lacking residence or work permits, even if they have a passport or i/d card. These do not qualify for social support, and can be eligible for transport as far as the nearest border, where they become someone else's problem.

This may particularly affect those with untreated mental health issues who cannot be fitted into any country's health care programme or budget. This was the case twenty years ago when I was in Geneva dealing with persistent needy individuals from far off places, not fitting into any of the usual categories of refugee or asylum seeker needs. All the expected provisions of care are there for citizens who have maintained an identity, or foreigners who have acquired the right to stay,  but not for those whose mental or social conditions have led them to disconnect from society and slide into anonymity. This is a human concern which knows no borders. I'd love to know who, if anyone is at work on these issues internationally.

Having arrived in the departure hall with the best part of two hours to wait before boarding, Clare found that her flight was delayed by an hour, just as mine was on the outward flight, but she was home again by tea time. She's not a noisy person, but tonight the house seems quiet without her.

  

Chateau de Chillon - an unsatisfactory photo-opportunity

A glorious sunny day, and a morning walk to the Chateau de Chillon for a look around the interior, just CHF10.50 for oldies and a ticket that allows you to come can go as often as you like during the day. It's a marvellous building, set on a rock outcrop protruding into Lac Leman. Traces of Bronze age settlements have been found among the foundations of the 12th century castle keep. It was an outpost of the Dukedom of Savoy at the outset, taken over by the warlords of the Canton de Berne at time of the reformation,  and taken over by the Canton de Vaud in 1798. In each period it was added to or adapted, and its component buildings have had many uses apart from military, as residences or government offices, storehouses, even the Vaudois Cantonal prison. 

Since the 13th century its vaulted vaulted cellar has been used to store barrels of wine harvested from the nearby Clos de Chillon vineyards which belong to the Chateau. You can buy bottles of both red and white at high prices. It's a rarity, and all profits made on the wine go to the restoration and maintenance of the Chateau undertaken by the Fondacion du Chateau de Chillon.  

It's twenty five years since we last visited. At that time, not all the rooms were open due to ongoing restoration work. Now, nearly all the rooms are open to the public, many are arrayed with period style furniture, walls and ceilings authentically decorated. Each room has interpretation panels and educative models to give an impression of people's way of life many centuries ago. It's one of the most visited castles in Switzerland, and I guess we were fortunate not to be herded around the place along with busloads of global tourists on a sunny winter low season day. A delightful experience.

The one setback was turning up with a camera lacking its SD memory card. Only yesterday had I finally filled a 16GB card, in use since 9th September 2016, over 2350 photos, and not all of them worth keeping, but such a hassle to separate the dross from the keepers. I had planned to go into town and buy a new card before going to the Chateau de Chillon, but as the weather was so good we seized the opportunity. 

Having removed the full card from the camera, I then forgot about buying a replacement. Just last week, the spare SD card I carry in my wallet for emergencies since running out on the Rhine Cruise last May, was pressed into use with my new Alpha 68 DSLR camera, and I'd not yet got around to replacing it. I had to use the BlackBerry's phone camera instead, once the HX50's internal flash memory had run out - just six photos. The results were adequate, just. It's not as good as the Samsung Galaxy S3 phone camera, I left re-charging in Church House along with the Alpha 68. You don't always live and learn in my experience. Serves me right. The Chateau is well worth a visit, and I may find time to return, better provisioned.

We returned for lunch and then walked into town to buy train tickets for tomorrow's airport journey, for Clare, who has to return to teach on Thursday , all too soon for the both of us. I needed to buy another SD card as well. I should have bought two, but didn't as I thought they were rather expensive. They are much cheaper on-line, naturally, and when I checked, Curry's are retailing them at roughly the same price in Sterling, so later, I regretted not buying a second. Ah well another day, maybe.

  

Epiphany Sunday feast and an unexpected visitor

There were only two down people present for the Epiphany Sunday Sung Eucharist, and almost all of them came into Church House afterwards for mulled wine and mince pies. Mulled wine was my task. I'd bought some cartons of Spanish Jumilla, as it's good and fruity, and I know it's made use of for gluhwein in parts of Germany. Mixed with about a third jus de pomme, with honey and Clare's spice bags, it turned out well, and was heaty enough in taste not to need fortification with cognac, like the mincemeat. Several people brought food contributions, a pizza, savoury pastries, even an entire Christmas cake left untouched from Christmas festivities. 

While we were getting ourselves organised, several people set to and un-decorated the tree, and put away the Christmas candelabra brackets and other accoutrements which had made the church look so good and seasonally welcoming. Then we had an enjoyable hour of relaxed eating and chatting, with just enough food and wine to go around.

While we were together, we were joined by a young woman who called herself Natalya, born in Russia, raised n France, estranged from her parents since she left home. I think she came into church during or after the service, and then came into the house after the others. She said she was an artist, trying to earn a living from her work. She'd lost whatever job and accommodation she'd had, and had spent several months 'couch surfing' as it's called today, but had been told that she couldn't stay any longer and didn't know what to do next. 

She didn't appear unkempt, like a rough sleeper, but all her possessions fitted into a rucksack and a cloth bag. She was hungry and tired, and grateful for an offer of food and drink. She talked to me and the churchwardens in turn non stop for another half an hour after our guests had left. More than anything she was isolated and lonely, I suspect.

Finding a place for her to stay on a Sunday evening in January was bound to be difficult. She had a French passport but no work permit, therefore no entitlement to social services in Switzerland. Not that there aren't places that'll take in people sans-papiers as they call it around here, but places that do are not quite the kind of places you'd willingly send a vulnerable young woman, who may have had mental health issues or complex life problems, as well as no visible means of support. 

Several enquiries drew the same conclusion, there wasn't a way to find her the kind of help she may need on a Sunday afternoon. After a long conversation with Neil, he took her to his family's ski chalet in the Alpes Vaudois to fend for herself in safety and security for a few days, to afford her an opportunity to work out exactly what she wants to do hereafter. Not the best solution, maybe, as there'd be nobody to keep an eye on her regularly, in case she had other needs. She seems, however, to be a survivor, used to coping on her own. Let's just hope this respite is enough to enable her to look a little further ahead in her life than the evening of each day.

Once everyone had left us, there was still enough daylight time left to go for a walk, so we headed along the lakeside path to the Chateau de Chillon and arrived just as it was closing, so we vowed we would return on the morrow, and walked on as far as the Villenuve lakeside piscine publique, before

turning around. We arrived back at Church House just as the lights of evening began to shine.

Later, another episode of McMafia on BBC One. Still more elegantly delivered nastiness. Not sure if this all adds up to anything to learn from, or is just another filmic outing into the realm of posh melodrama with a Russian accent. Give me gritty sordid 'Spiral' any day.

A foodie Epiphany Day

A wonderful mild clear blue skies Epiphany Day today. We took the train from Territet to Vevey and explored the town, in somewhat more depth than on my previous visit here in September, when I went to a community lunch at All Saints Vevey. 

We went through the Old Town, starting from La Grande Place with its covered market hall and variety of open air stalls, enjoying the extensive zone of pedestrianised streets, as far as the rue du Leman. Then we turned down to walk back along Quai Perdonnet, the lake promenade, hunting for a restaurant for lunch. The imposing modern building at the bottom of the street nearest the lake is a showcase for the Nestle foundation, a museum dedicated to the preparation and consumption of food, called the Alimentarium. We soon discovered that it has a marvellous cafeteria restaurant on the ground floor, open to the pubic, with a straightforward selection of meals for vegetarians and omnivores alike, all using freshly prepared, and for the most part, local ingredients using traditional local recipes or developments of them. Clare had the fish and I had the veggie option and both of us were impressed with what we ate.

Much to our surprise and delight, as we were eating, my dear friend Valdo Richard came over from the other end of the restaurant and greeted us! We spoke on the phone a few days ago and promised to meet when their New Year holiday grand-parental childminding stint was over. He and Ann-Lise stop to eat at the Alimentarium on their long lakeside walks. They take the train down from Aigle to one of the stations along the route du Lac and walk from there. We had coffee together after the meal, then bade them farewell as they continued their recreational trek, and we too walked west on the lakeside promenade for a kilometre or so, before going back into the town shopping centre to look for a few extra items needed for our lunchtime Epiphany party tomorrow. We've invited the church congregation to come in for vin chaud and freshly baked mince pies. And therein lies a tale.

Clare came out from home well prepared, with a small bag of vegetarian suet and some spicy sacks of gluhweingewurtz and a recipe for DIY mincemeat. We shopped for dried fruit, nuts, oranges and lemons yesterday, but failed to find currants. We prepared and cooked up the necessary ingredients, substituting dried prunes, but Clare wasn't satisfied with the outcome, so after our walk we went on a hunt for currants, which we found them in a Bio shop close to La Grande Place. After further recipe adjustments to balance flavours and texture, with currants and another grated apple Clare was fairly satisfied with the result and set about making pastry, using a mixture of flour and ground almonds or hazelnuts, to great effect in the finished baked product. She retired to bed secure in the knowledge that the mince pies would pass muster for our discerning guests, both British and Swiss.

Linux deployed

Another day of showers, though not as heavy as yesterday's. There was still more shopping to do for Sunday's party, so we walked into town and back before lunch. We needed to be back again to open the church, to give access to a guided tour group, telling the story in period costime of la Belle Epoque in Montreux, extending down to Territet with its once prestigious Hotel des Alpes, and links with Empress Elizabeth, aka Cissi, who stayed hereabouts several times in that era, before she was assassinated in Geneva.

After switching on the Christmas tree lights and making an awkward move to avoid knocking off a bauble from a protruding branch, I slipped, fell against the front pew and bumped my head. It wasn't a hard fall or blow, but rather an annoying surprise. Luckily I was still warm and relaxed from the best part of an hour's walk, and so avoided collateral damage, hopefully.

Later in the afternoon, we walked along the lakeside promenade for another kilometre after a stop at the Migros in the Metro Centre to enquire fruitlessly about the lost earring. We looked at a further sequence of animal sculptures made from woven fir tree branches, along this section. All of these seem related to figures in a series of First Nation American tribal stories, with which neither Clare nor I are familiar. It was the first time Clare had walked this part of the promenade, as we didn't get around to it when we were together back in the autumn. We also took time to look at the bronze figures of famous musicians in the Montreux Palace hotel garden. It was just a shame that by then it was getting dark and starting to rain again after several hours respite.

We stopped by the ferry station to check the boat timetable. The usual digital information display had crashed on booting up, for lack of a network connection, and it was displaying lines of boot-up reportage, which indicated the device was driven by Raspbian Linux, an operating system devised to run on the Raspberry Pi series of miniature PC motherboards. It's the first time I've seen this in the wild, so to speak. It's free and open source, and the powerful device can be used to perform a variety of specific computing tasks, driving equipment that monitors, processes and displays information in a tiny computer package that can be built into other devices.

Mince pie making suffered a setback tonight with the discovery that there were no small pie baking trays in the houses. A couple of phone calls however let to Clare obtaining the loan of some trays from Caroline, who will kindly drop them off tomorrow.

  

Mincemeat making

It rained all today today, but despite weather we walked into town to shop at the Migros, to buy some ingredients for Clare to make her own mincemeat, ahead of making mice pies for Sunday's Epiphany lunchtime party. Before heading back to CHurch House in between showers, we stopped for a drink in the Migros small cafe. Later, Clare discovered that she had lost an earring of sentimental value, and after searching through the house, concluded the most likely place and time was when taking off her scarf and hat while sitting in the cafe. Most unfortunate, but we can return and ask if anyone had picked up tomorrow.

In the evening we prepared the mincemeat together, before putting it in the oven to cook, and then watched a biographical documentary on BBC Four about Walt Disney and the business empire he created. This was followed by another documentary on the life and work of the author Sue Townsend, creator of the Adrian Mole character and the series of books she wrote about him from adolescence into adulthood. Like Walt Disney, she didn't have much formal education after secondary school. Both were driven by creative talent in their different ways to have remarkable success against great odds and adversity. Both died in their sixties from cancer, and yes, both were smokers. It's curious, this toxic linkage between smoking and creativity, not to mention drugs and alcohol abuse. 

   

Reunion

Clare made an early start from Cardiff this morning with a six o'clock bus to Bristol airport. I spent most of the day waiting for her, preparing a Sunday sermon, food shopping, preparing a welcome evening meal. 

It rained most of the day. Switzerland is being assailed by storm force winds causing damage and disruption, and although some trains were late, and Clare missed one my minutes, she was only one hour later than our travel estimate. Thankfully the rain stopped an hour before Clare's train arrived in Montreux. It meant we could walk back to Church House so Clare could stretch her legs after many hours sitting on bus, plane and train. 

We walked along the lakeside promenade, and were surprised to see waves breaking over the shore retaining wall, spraying small stones and vegetation all over the path. It's not as if there was a strong wind at this end of the lake causing the water turbulence, but possibly at the other end of the lake 50km away, storm force winds generated a wave effect that travelled the length of the lake against the flow of the river Rhone. It's an amazing environment with so many surprises, not least with the weather.

After supper, we watched a recorded broadcast from Covent Garden of Verdi's opera Macbeth on a French TV channel. The singing was superb. It was a lovely relaxing conclusion to the day.

  

Montreux bank holidays

New Year's day was quieter than a Sunday. It was mild and sunny with clouds until sunset, when it began to rain. In the afternoon I walked the lakeside path as far as the Chateau de Chillon with my camera, and got a decent close up photo of a bird I couldn't identify swimming off-shore. A flock of a hundred or so Scaup were swimming together nearby. This is an aquatic bird I hadn't come across until I identified a few of them among the Coots and Mallards on the rio Aguas in Mojacar back in November. I wonder if the birds live here or are spending the winter here, or just passing through?

In the evening I watched the New Year's Day concert from Vienna, always a favourite, and even more so now we've sailed on the not so blue Danube, seen Vienna, and the Vienna Woods slipping past. It prompted me to take another look at my on-line album of cruise photos, and realise just how little of Vienna we'd seen in our packed day's visit. Hopefuly, there'll be another time.

Then I watched first episode of McMafia inspired by a novel of Misha Glenny. It's a dramatic exposée of the power struggle between different Russian criminal clans. and how this impacts upon the personal life of a second generation British banker of Russian parentage. It's a stylish portrayal of the lifestyle of the super-rich after the manner of the film of Le Carre's 'The Night Manager'. It's complex and a little slow moving, which makes me wonder if it's making sense to me. Early days, however.

Today was another 'quiet as a Sunday' sort of day, being a second Swiss public holiday in a row. It walked into town to see if anything was open, and found several restaurants, cafés and convenience stores were open, not that I needed anything, as I'd stocked up before the weekend. I walked up into the old time, and discovered several old streets and alleys I hadn't found before. I walked back past the ancient Parish Church of St Vincent Veytaux, and took another photo of it with the vineyard in the foreground, now in winter wear, denuded of leaves. The church was open, and the sanctuary was host to an unusual nativity scene.

The figures were cardboard cut-outs, which had been minimally decorated by a local artist who had also written an interpretation of the intended symbolism of the scene from his viewpoint which was displayed alongside the nativity scene in the spacious sanctuary of the church. In common with many other reformed mediaeval church buildings there's almost no furnishing in the chancel and sanctuary, just a simple Communion Table at the entrance. The simplicity of the space is enhanced by stained glass window light. It's a delightful building, with a timeless feel to it, and it's such a contrast to the glitzy cosmopolitan streets down below on the lakeside.

Later, I watched episode two of McMafia. I'm still not sure I've got a grip on the plot-lines, or if I'll have the patience to watch the third episode on Sunday next.

New Year lakeside vigil

Last night, I left Church House at ten minutes to midnight and walked along the lack promenade as far as the Market Square. The skies were clear and there was an unusually mild breeze, making it a very pleasant night time stroll. The first kilometre was almost deserted. It was only when I reached the Casino that a handful of New Year revellers were sitting out on the lakeside wall, drinking beer or bubbly, phoning home or taking selfies with their mates. Most of the socialising was taking place in hotel ball rooms, clubs and the Casino, or else in apartments, on balconies overlooking the lake.

At midnight, people high up shouted "Bonne Année" to people walking below. Few walkers greeted greeted anyone outside their circle of friends. Best of all, church bells rang out for a quarter of an hour. In some communes with older traditions they also ring daily, morning and evening, thanks to a timer and ringing mechanism which makes this automatic. But at midnight, the custodian or the pastor would need to be there and use the manual override switch. No change ringing teams here!

There was no a public countdown with musical animation and no municipal fireworks in the Market Square. It's not surprising, given that the entire area is still occupied by empty wooden chalets and stalls of the Christmas Market, waiting to be dismantled and removed. Many districts around the lake, from Vevey to Villenueve as well as the French side at St Gingolph had displays of their own.

Looking across at the French Alps, I couldn't help wondering what it would have been like to stand here at night in the year before I was born, to look across the lake, with the explosions and fires of battle coming across from the other side as Haute Savoie was being liberated by Savoyard partisans with Allied support. There'll be life long Montreux dwellers some years older than I who remember those times, and the impact it made on the whole lakeside region.

The noise and distant sparkle of fireworks, went on for more than half an hour, and night-time quiet returned by the time I reached Territet. I was so glad to have made the effort to go out and see in the New Year, far from home, and ate a dozen grapes, Spanish style at New Year, before going to bed.