The inside view

On Sunday, preparation for today's colonoscopy appointment started with a switch to a simple low fibre diet, until yesterday afternoon. Then I had to move on to a liquids only fast. It didn't leave me with much energy, but I whiled away the time gathering some of the things I need to take with me to Montreux, earnestly hoping that the investigation wouldn't reveal anything that'd prevent me from leaving, especially as I have a Baptism preparation arranged for Friday and the service on Saturday.

Churchwarden Jane was in touch over the weekend to advise me of a second wedding blessing in four week's time. I dread the thought of not being able to meet the commitment I made, and need to arrange for another to take my place at short notice. The offer of an appointment, so quickly after the preliminary inspection wasn't to be turned down, however, after a six month wait.

At tea time I had to drink a litre of fluid over an hour, laced with oral re-hydration salts and laxative concocted to clear the bowels, called 'Moviprep', so I spent a quiet evening watching episodes of 'Bull' and 'NCIS' on the tablet, waiting for the inevitable, and it was half past midnight before I could relax into sleep. The worst part was having to get up at five this morning and repeat the one litre drinking feat with a second dose of 'Moviprep'. I didn't need to set the alarm as I usually wake at first light and then go back to sleep. By half past eight, I was thoroughly cleared out and ready for the trip to the Heath Hospital. We left early, anticipating heavy traffic but the roads were far quieter than usual as school holidays are now under way. 

I was welcomed and briefed by a delightful Iranian nurse, who said she'd lived in Britain 25 years and loved it here as much as she loved her homeland. She was obliged to fit me with a cannula just in case medication needed to be administered at short notice, but this required several attempts before she found a vein. I didn't want to be sedated and didn't think I'd need an analgaesic, so it wasn't used. As ever my blood pressure was high and this time set off the alarm, not surprising since the procedure obliged me to forego usual medication for forty eight hours beforehand. This I found a bit odd, but nobody made a fuss about it.  Then I had to shed my clothes and don operating theatre garb. The young consultant surgeon was surprisingly cheery and outgoing for a Monday morning. He introduced me to his multi-national theatre support team and answered my few preliminary questions before starting the procedure.

I was pleased to be able to watch the progress of the probe on a hi-def colour screen right in front of me, and found it fascinating to see my insides at close quarters. Such beautiful organic tunnel structures, with forms reminiscent of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia and other adventurous pieces of modern architecture. It wasn't terribly uncomfortable, despite the air being pumped through my innards to open the way for the probe. So I was able to relax, and be thankful that it needed neither sedation not analgaesic. I experienced worse when my digestive tract was playing up. I heard them point out my appendix en passant and was told that the probe had gone a metre up into my intestine. Best of all was the consultant's declaration that I have a healthy normal bowel, just a polyp that's doesn't require action and is nothing to worry about.

After a rest, a chat with the post-op team and a cup of tea, I was free to leave, and could have gone home on the bus - strictly verboten if you've been sedated - but Clare came and picked me up, and drove me home to a very welcome lunchtime meal.

Naturally I was nervous about it, and fretted over following the correct preliminary instructions from the sheet provided, but once I was there and met the team, I felt relaxed and at ease in their capable hands. In a strange sort of way it was quite an enjoyable experience. And, the way is cleared for me to be on my way to Switzerland on Thursday.

Remembering Pauline at St John's

Another duty-free Sunday meant that I could walk into town this morning and attend the Eucharist at St John the Baptist City Parish Church, and commiserate with old friends in the congregation at the loss of Pauline Grainger, one of the stalwarts of St John's over the past forty years. She was the same age as me, and was active in the church's ministry of hospitality, sidesperson, church warden on occasions. Most important for church life was her role in developing the church Tea Room in the choir vestry from its tentative beginning, under my predecessor Mac Ellis, to a properly equipped, not for profit enterprise run by teams of volunteers, open six days a week under her quiet guidance.

She was intelligent, versatile and creatively gifted, and could have gone to university, but when she left school, she trained as a Midland Bank clerk, working down the Docks and in the city centre. Her dad ran his own garage and car dealership, so Pauline acquired her sound business sense at home. She found a spiritual home at St John's when the renowned Canon Edwin Davies was Vicar. She understood his vision for church in the marketplace and spent much of her life putting it into practise. She loved singing in various choirs, and ended up running one of them 'Oriana' which would put on a Christmas fundraiser in church every December. Although she'd occasionally sing in the church choir, she could usually be found on Sunday mornings near the door, welcoming people and giving out books. 

For the past five years she'd lived with bone marrow cancer, but none of the treatments, including trialling the latest experimental therapies were able to do more than slow down its progression. Yet, she remained actively engaged in St John's life until just after I returned from  Spain, when she had a stroke. Even so, two weeks before her death, she was brought to church in a wheelchair, in effect saying goodbye to the people and place she took to heart and served for so many years. She'd asked at the onset of the final crisis if I could take part in her funeral with Sarah the outgoing Vicar, when wasn't expected to last quite so long. Sadly, it happens on 6th August, four busy days after I arrive in Montreux. I couldn't even fly home after next Sunday's service, as I'm up at Villars for a service at six, too late to travel. I've written a tribute to her and sent it to Sarah to use in the service as she thinks fit.

Without a little research, it's impossible to say exactly how much money was raised over a twenty year period by the Tea Room but it was certainly a six figure sum, enough to contribute substantially to the organ restoration fund, and pay for a complete interior decoration of the church. A couple of dozen volunteers each week helped out with cooking, serving, washing and clearing up, Pauline among them, when she wasn't visiting the Cash and Carry shopping for supplies. She was one of those quiet natural leaders who don't feel compelled to be forever up-front, but are content be with and among people to guide and encourage. A marvellous example of the kind of lay ministry which enables the church to live and fulfil its purpose, with or without sufficient clergy. She will be greatly missed by so many people from different walks of life. I'll miss her, both as a good friend and partner in the mission of an outstanding church in the marketplace. May she rest in peace.
  

Duties concluded, farewells made

I celebrated the Eucharist at St John's yesterday morning, and again this evening at St Luke's to cover for Fr Mark. These are my last assignments of parish duty cover. Walking home after this service, I dropped off three big bunches of church keys at the Rectory, which I've been using during the past couple of months. They're going to be Emma's keys hereafter. Her responsibilities develop over the coming weeks, getting acquainted with the Parish setup in detail. 

Before lunch, I said goodbye to Rachel, who returns to Kenilworth for the weekend to attend a big Festival with Kath and Anto, before they leave for holidays in Spain, and she returns to Arizona. It looks like the next week will be somewhat cooler and wetter as the month long drought comes to an end. Rachel was a little distressed to arrive home to temperatures not much cooler than Phoenix, so she deserves a some more temperate weather. Just being back in a leafy green climate for a month has, nevertheless been a big consolation for her. She's not a hot climate girl like big sister and Dad. 

I couldn't see her off from the bus station, as I had a lunchtime funeral at St John's followed by a burial at Radyr cemetery, next to St John's Danescourt. It's been lovely having her here. I wish it had been for longer, or for good. She's not happy living in Arizona and it's a struggle to get work, so naturally I worry about her a great deal. One day maybe, when Jasmine is old enough not to need Mum around all the time, she'll return and stay.

Apart from her amazing solo gig at the Apothecary, the time she spent last week in Kenilworth in Anto's recording studio was most fruitful. She's returning with two superb music tracks to release and promote. It's 'cast your bread on the waters' time.

  

   

Down memory lane

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning, and then after an early lunch Clare, Rachel and I drove to Bristol to visit Amanda. She told us how the care agency which now looks after her is managed and staffed by Muslim care workers, who have been most attentive to her needs, so that now she gets taken in her wheelchair to the Parish Eucharist in St Stephen's Southmead on Sunday mornings. Her carer sits at the back or goes outside during the service, and pops in now and then to check she's OK. The congregation is friendly and welcoming towards them both, and having a burka wearing care worker in church regularly offers a low key opportunity for growing respect and trust in an area not exactly renowned for tolerance.

Amanda, always outgoing and curious, has been learning from her carers about muslim culture and faith practices, as well as explaining her own. She has given them permission, should they need to while they are with her, to take a few moments time out for prayer in another room. Through this kind of everyday inter-faith dialogue, grass roots progress can be made in learning how best to live together with our differences.

At Rachel's request on our return trip we drive across the old Severn Bridge and visited Chepstow, where we lived for seven years when she was in primary school. We walked down the Dell to the Castle, along the west bank of the river Wye and back up through the older streets of the town. It was no surprise that Rachel should find a chippie open and buy a bag of chips to share. Chips over in Chepstow (aka 'Chipstow') was a regular treat when we lived in St Paul's Bristol, and crossed the bridge to visit the Wye Valley for some respite from the concrete jungle. Happy days back then over, thirty years ago.

    

St James' Eve licensing

It was glad to attend the licensing of Emma Rees Kenny as Team Vicar in Canton Benefice tonight. At last a full time colleague for Fr Mark, and no more home locum duties for me, hopefully for a good while to come. There was a congregation at St John's of about a hundred from all three churches. Fr Mark invited me to robe and sit in choir, along with Fr Colin, another retired priest who helps in the Parish plus Rosie Dymond of St Padarn's institute, now assigned to the Parish as a NSM priest. Bishop June preached on the ambition of the mother of the sons Zebedee, arising from the Gospel for St James' Day which is tomorrow. She also took time to talk about her plan to hold the next Diocesan Clergy School as a pilgrimage event at Santiago de Compostela. Amazing!

Personally, I have misgivings about this particular Camino, whose popularity has revived in recent decades, resulting in a huge increase in the number of pilgrims walking at least the last 100km, but with many more completing the official 810km route from St Jean Pied de Port in France. While I understand and appreciate the desire to make such a journey at walking pace over several months as a long retreat and means of self exploration and spiritual development, and the fact that people have been doing this for the past twelve centuries, the connection of the place to James the Great, the first of the Apostles to be martyred, has no biblical basis.

Stories attached to the translation of relics which may or may not have been his, are all legendary if not magical. Yet this pilgrimage persisted, as a popular spiritual expedition for a host of complex social, cultural and economic reasons. It's a pilgrimage hallowed by a long tradition of prayer and hospitality, but is it pilgrimage for pilgrimage sake? I wonder, like being famous for being famous? I could understand better the reason if the place was actually linked with the life and witness of the saint, as is often the case. I've spent time in Jerusalem, Rome and Damascus in the footsteps of Christ and the Apostles, and believe I learned from this, even if I only walked at length in the heat around these ancient cities and not to them from a distance. It's also good to reflect on the differences between the world then and now. For me the story behind the pilgrimage, gives reason for the journey. It has to count.

As a retired priest, I no longer have an obligation to go the Diocesan clergy school. I'll be interested to learn, from those who attend, how this event is arranged and what learning plan will be followed. Bishop June is an original thinker and a good teacher, so I'm sure it won't be a dull or dutiful affair. 

Remembering Mike

Yesterday morning we drove to Worcester to spend the weekend with Gail, the wife of my friend Mike who died back in February. I was in Spain for his funeral, and was unable to visit her before the funeral, or since returning, so there was a lot of catching up to be done.

After lunch, she drove us out into deepest rural Worcestershire to visit the National Trust property Hanbury Hall. On the way there, we visited Hanbury Parish church which is where the BBC record St Stephen's Ambridge church sequences for our favourite soap opera 'The Archers'. It's half a mile walk from there to the Hall, but we drove back to the Hall to be sure to have enough time to visit.

The house is in the early 17th century style of William and Mary's reign, but has been modified on occasions since then. The impressive formal gardens are a modern recreation from the original 1701 plan of landscape artist George London. The house sits on a ridge and the land falls away from the terrace in a sweep of grassland dotted with trees plus a tree lined avenue for riding or walking. Due to lack of rain, the grass is golden yellow, and populated by a flock of sheep, not so visible at the moment. With hindsight, I regret not taking photographs of the landscape in this unusual condition. My pictures of the house and church are here.

This morning we went to the Eucharist at St Stephen's Barbourne Parish church together with Gail. This was the church where Mike's funeral was held, the Fr Andy the Vicar, I'd already corresponded with over the tribute I recorded for use in absentia at the funeral. It was good to meet him at last in person, and enjoy participating in a well thought out service with excellent preaching and a over a hundred communicants. Just how it should be. 

As we walked home, Gail pointed out the Post Office where Mike died, and told the story of how she went looking for him when he failed to arrive in time for a car journey up north. It seems she guessed what had happened when she saw the ambulance lights on approach, as he'd collapsed inexplicably out talking the previous day, and had been given the all clear by his GP afterwards. It was such a shock for us all. And we miss him.

After lunch we went for a walk along the east bank of the river Severn. It runs about half a mile away from where they live. The riverside meadows are a mix of grain fields, and grazing land for cattle and horses. There's no industrial traffic on the river, just leisure craft and narrowboats. A nice quiet way to see the landscape and observe the wildlife. Gail spotted a woodpecker taking off, and there was a egret up by the weir, but I missed both. Never mind, my bucolic landscapes are here. 

Before we set out for home, there was an evening service at St Stephen's with a group of French youngsters from a Parisian suburb attending, as part of an exchange holiday project. The service was bi-lingual, and Fr Andy asked if I could read a prayer in French, which I did, and wished that I'd asked Clare to do it instead, so that my Sunday could be a full Sunday on the receiving end for once. Serves me right not being reluctant to say 'no' to a colleague.

The run home was fairly traffic free, and we reached home just after nine, with much to think about after our catch-up time, and for me, more grieving to do, at the loss of those unique conversations that can only happen when you've been friends for three quarters of a lifetime.

Llys Esgob garden party

Midweek Eucharists again at St Catherine's and St John's again on Wednesday and Thursday. Apart from that, much quiet enjoyment of hot sunny days. I had another bereavement meeting today, at Pidgeon's funeral home, for a service a week today. The deceased had worked as a young mother as a domestic cleaner in Llandaff, for a Mr & Mrs Rees of the Old Registry, I learned from preparing her eulogy. The address seemed like a familiar echo from the past, and so it turned out to be when I rang her daughter daughter to check. 

She told me Mum had worked for the Reverend Geoffrey Rees and his wife Lil, who was Principal of St Michael's College when I was training for ministry there. As a toddler she'd accompanied her mother to work early in the morning, and been taken by Mr Rees across the road and into college for breakfast in the big Refectory with the students "Who spoiled me rotten!" she recalled. This was seven years before my time, but nevertheless a lovely connection with my youth, under the caring eye of a priest and pastor for whom I grew to have the highest regard.

In the afternoon, Clare and I walked to Llandaff for a retired clerics' tea party with Bishop June at Llys Esgob. It was lovely to meet a variety of former colleagues and chat with them in the garden, even if it was occasionally difficult to fit names to faces. Just as we were about to finish, the skies darkened, the temperature dropped and we were treated to a few drops of rain, so we caught the bus back home instead of walking. Well, Clare, with her folding brolly, carried on into town on the bus for a quick piece of shopping, and I returned and cooked supper in time for her return. 

Afterwards I watched another episode of Dicte - Crime Reporter, plus a couple of episodes of a new BBC Wales mystery drama 'Keeping Faith' on iPlayer. Excellent acting with an authentic portrayal of a South Wales family stricken by the husband's sudden disappearance. It's now being screened again on BBC One to critical acclaim. Quite something for two serial dramas made in Wales to be screened in the same season.
  

Llandough on time

This afternoon we took Rachel to the coach station to start her journey to Kenilworth, where she'll not only be staying with big sister Kath this week, but making some song recordings with brother in law Anto in the attic studio where he composes his own sound track music for AKM Music and has recorded their own Sonrisa band albums. Getting quality recordings done in the USA would be not only more costly but maybe also a more chancy process, where you can't be sure that the people you're dealing with want to help you or take advantage of the fact that you're a foreigner. Working on home ground has its advantages! Unfortunately, her coach suffered a door closure malfunction, leading to a departure delay of over two hours.

Clare and I went to Llandough Hospital after dropping Rachel at Sophia Gardens, as I had a first examination and briefing about having an endoscopy inspection. I'm impressed by the improved way the hospital appointment system now works, checking and rechecking by text message, that you still want and can keep the appointment. This strategy aim to cut down on time wasted by those who fail to notify of their need to cancel or postpone. 

For good or ill, there are always reasons why a scheduled booking has to be changed, or cannot be taken up. While there's little excuse for not letting the hospital know in good time, I guess with a range of older, less capable patients, some of whom may be supported by busy careers, additional effort to communicate and obtain a response is worthwhile. I was also impressed by how everything ran to time. We were on our way home again within three quarters of an hour of arrival.

I was interested to find the specialist I saw wasn't entitled Dr or Mr but Lt Col, a military surgeon, not in the reserves, but on active service. As a ranking officer, leading or managing a team he spends time in a civilian hospital alongside military duties to maintain his level of professional competence when not on operations. That's a comforting thought now.

Over the weekend, I started watching a series of French crimmies called 'Dead Beautiful' on More Four Walter Presents. They feature Thierry Godard, who plays the Parisien flic who co-stars in the brilliant long running 'Spiral' series. Instead of being a team member, he's Le Commissaire in this series with the usual complex personal and family life which seems to be built in feature of the narrative in so many police dramas, representing the exacting demands on the individuals who serve in law and order roles.

As the generic title suggests, this is a series of stories about women who are victims or perpetrators of violent crimes. Wealth and privilege also part of the scenario, and the power politics surrounding the judiciary aren't really a feature. Each is a two hour watch, quite tough going, and each has a few surprise twists in the past ten minutes. Best of all, my comprehension of movie mode French seems to have improved, perhaps because I have been using the Duo Lingo app to revise French this year, in addition to maintaining my Spanish. Half to three quarters of an hour's language drills daily is a quite a routine to maintain, but I'd rather that than doing Sudoku or crosswords. It seems a bit more useful, while I'm still able to travel and live abroad for decent periods.
       

Duty free time in view?

Yesterday morning, Clare and I drove up the A470 to Trelewis to visit Claus and Anna, the Fountain Choir director in their hillside Valleys home. Their back garden is on a steep terraced slope, which mounts as high as the roof of the house. The highest level contains his and her sheds. Claus's is an arts and crafts workshop and Anna's is her private practice counselling room. In between they have a table and some chairs, under a large umbrella, with space for a barbecue behind. This was where we had lunch al fresco, and then sat and chatted all afternoon.

Meanwhile back at home Owain arrived to see Rachel, and they went together to Penarth, as Owain was very keen to visit the sea. He stayed the night, so when we returned, we were able to spend the evening together.

This morning, I celebrated the eight o'clock at St John's and then the ten thirty Eucharist at St Catherines's. Emma Rees begins work as Team Vicar in the Benfice the week after next. I have two more rounds of midweek celebrations to perform, but these were my last Sunday interregnum duties in the Parish for now. Next Sunday, all three churches close and the congregations attend Cathedral worship, as Fr Mark is Canon in Residence. The Sunday after is a united Benefice service, and I'm not required for either of these. Two free Sundays in a row! I've had two other duty free Sundays this year so far, it's been that busy. 

I learned this morning that my former Team Vicar colleague Jenny Wigley retires today. I've done locum cover for her in Radyr on several occasions in times past, and preached Holy Week there. I wonder if I'll be recruited to help out for this interregnum? I've nothing lined up for when I return from Montreux, but I'd prefer to wait and see what comes to me. Much as I enjoy what I do, I think I may benefit from a change of pace, and maybe would benefit from a little more leisure time - if only I could think what I'd really like to be doing that I'm not doing now.  

Video labours

Slowly but steadily over the past few days, I've edited the footage from Rachel's gig last Friday into separate videos of all sixteen of the songs she performed. Technically speaking they're not perfect, but, the sound quality is excellent and the performances are remarkably good, well worth uploading to her YouTube site for a wider audience of fans family and friends. The first one to be published 'Bubble Trouble' is here. It's a song from ten years ago, and there an audio recording of it on her site, but the live video is value added in my opinion even if it's not as polished as a studio recording. She will release one song video a week on YouTube and publicise the series on her Facebook page. Good for getting her work a wider audience.

Yesterday morning I celebrated the Eucharist at St John's again. There were just seven of us as some of the regulars are away, which is only to be expected at this time of year. In the afternoon, I had an GP appointment to find out the result of last Friday's blood test and ECG. I was relieved and glad to hear there are no anomalies requiring further investigation, clearing the way for my next round of duty travel to Montreux, in three weeks time. Having said that, I have an endoscopy appointment next Monday to get through first, and optimistic about the outcome of that.

I was driven over to St German's church for today's funeral, and was pleased to be able to drop in and say hello to people in the old people's day centre in the hall beforehand. As expected there was a big attendance for the service, as the deceased was a well known member of Millennium Centre staff. The organist played us out to a largo version of 'There's No Business like Show Business', but I'm not sure if any of the congregation recognised this, as people were chatting on their way out. Ah well, it was still worth the effort.

Vale visiting

Yesterday, we took Rachel for a visit and lunch at Dyffryn Gardens via Tinkinswood and St Lythan's burial chambers, at her special request. Last time we visited, five years ago, Jasmine was with us and she was in a stroppy mood, refusing to return to the car with us from the Tinkinswood site, as she wanted to stay on top of the capstone and play, which rather spoiled it for Rachel. Here on her own, she was free to indulge in communing with her primaeval forebears, while I took photos.

I got some super bird feeding shots from my usual spot in the Dyffryn front cafe window, also some good dragonfly photos at the the ornamental pond in the grounds. It's looking great there at the moment. These photos are here.

This morning I celebrated the Eucharist with five others at St Catherine's, and then spent the rest of the day working on video song edits. I've done sixteen of Rachel's original songs which she sang last Friday.  That's an impressive achievement. There were a few 'cover' songs by other artists as well, but these are not for upload as there's always possible performing rights issues involved. Best avoided. Amazing to think that we have two song-writing performing daughters. Rhiannon seems to be following the same path, being interested in acting and making music. She passed her grade four flute exam this week, something we're delighted about. Jasmine is learning musical instruments in school too, saxophone and guitar.

Follow up and check up

I spent the morning completing work on the second half gig video. This plus the audio recording is for Rachel to keep and study her own performance in detail at leisure. The next task, which I then started on is making short self contained videos for each complete song she's written. These can be uploaded more easily to You Tube in a release sequence, separately publicised via Facebook, giving optimum exposure to her full range of live performance material. Useful as a musical CV for any booking agent interested in what she can do. It's a long and fiddly job however, and will take a few days of spare time, considering the mistakes I'll make, weeding out recording glitches which evade initial attention - a product of not being able to record continuously on the same memory card. 

I've discovered today that a relatively slower card has latency glitches. When the maximum video file size is reached, a new file is started automatically but the swapover takes marginally longer and can leave a gap in the data stream which shows up in playback. That few seconds gap can be edited out easily if you've not missed it, but it's annoying to find it post production. It makes sense of needing a larger faster card, matched to the speed at which the camera's video processor works. For the first time the technical details printed on SD cards make practical sense to me.

This afternoon, I walked to UHW Heath hospital for an appointment with an ENT specialist to look into my occasional nosebleed problem. It's a matter of eliminating the possibility of anything out of the ordinary going on in my nostrils. Nosebleeds a common place enough, and I told him that understand mine are usually a result of sleeping awkwardly and constructing blood vessels in my neck. Then when I turn over, pressure buildup leads to a surge that ruptures a minor blood vessel. I've had less bleeds since I started using a shaped neck pillow. They're not so frequent or copious as in year past, but it's been a continuing problem for about fifteen years, so inevitably my GP thought it best to get it checked out. I've been on the waiting list since last December, so it's a relief to get this out of the way. I must return for another specialist check-up in October.

Next week, another appointment I've waited for since last December, this time for an endoscopy, occasioned by chronic haemorrhoid condition. I know I need this hi-tech inspection. I've coped with discomfort and occasional pain for a long time without improvement, but can't say I'm looking forward to this - no least because I dread the follow up interfering with my locum visit to Montreux next month. Well, we'll find out soon enough, I guess.

I got the bus back to Western Avenue from the hospital and walked home through the Fields, which look parched and golden at the moment after weeks of sunshine and little rain. I then had to drive out to St Mellons to meet a bereaved family to plan a funeral in St German's I'm taking this Friday. The traffic across town was very slow moving due to an M4 carriageway closure beyond the A48, and I had trouble finding my way to the street due to a wrong turning shortly after leaving the A48, which meant that I went all my way around the poorly signposted housing estate ring road, before identifying the correct turning. It's not a part of the city I'm at all familiar with.

The deceased in his last job and afterwards as a retirement volunteer had been on the staff of the Millennium Centre, and loved being involved in the hospitality side of productions. He was a fan of musical theatre, and his son showed me me the garage cum storeroom, whose walls are decorated with posters for all the shows presented there since it opened. He'd wanted the exterior of his coffin to be lined with playbills, and arranged for copies so this could be achieved. The family was none too keen about this, so the playbills will go into the coffin with him, all rolled up, as a compromise. Rod, a former member of St John's City Parish, now a St German's regular is a good friend of the family, and was there to greet me. From the way he spoke, I could tell that he'd been there for his terminally ill friend, accompanying him, ready to listen and discuss with him about the impending end of his life. Lovely to know such lay ministry goes on quietly when us clergy are so thin on the ground these days.

Follow-up

Despite the extra stimulus of yesterday evening, I was awake at six, and walking to St Catherine's early to celebrate the eight o'clock, and later the ten thirty. This past week I've been enjoying the exceptional warm weather and bright sunlight, but strangely it had its impact on my this morning, as I started to develop a migraine aura once I switched on the pulpit reading light to preach. My eyes deal reasonably well with sunlight and high contrast, but certain kinds of artificial light and natural light mixed seem to trigger a reaction. I've noticed it happens when I go into shops during bright sunny weather. It doesn't last long, about the length of a sermon in this case, even though I switched off the reading light immediately and carried on. It was a somewhat unnerving experience.

It was lovely to have a family lunch with Rachel afterwards, even though Owain was unable to join us, and Rhiannon wasn't with us, staying home for a teen sleepover with friends. Kath and Anto left fairly soon afterwards, and I devoted the rest of the day to audio editing and learning Movie Maker. The audio only recording was OK, but colourless in comparison to the stereo video sound recording, as it was mono only. I've got the first half gig video stitched together with minimal audio. Without editing redundant material out, it's fifty minutes long, as is the second half. That's quite long for a solo performer. And Rachel next stops smiling or looking happy while she makes music. Bless her.

Gig night

A visit to the GP surgery yesterday morning for a routine set of blood tests and an ECG. Apart from that, and sermon preparation, the day was taken over by Rachel getting ready for her gig practicing and organising her set playlist. Because of the unique way in which she uses different tuning settings for her various songs she needs to have at least two guitars set up ready to use. The one she brought with her we felt didn't really fit the bill, so we tried without success to hire one, but to no avail. Clare and I separately had the same idea, and an instrument fit for purpose was borrowed from Diana's husband Pete and fitted with a brand new set of strings. Rachel has bought lots of packets as she found a special offer in town. In any case, it seems they are less expensive here than in the USA.

Kath and Anto arrived with a car load of equipment for the gig, including a PA system leads, to add to the guitar brought last weekend, and a few essentials Rachel brought with her from AZ. At six we accompanied Rachel to the Apothecary Tea Room on Llandaff Road, and got the place ready for the gig. My role was to make a sound and a video recording. The sound job was entrusted to Clare's iPad voice recorder plus a substantial mono microphone of Rachel's, positioned on a boom stand at the back of a room about 6 metres square, with my Sony HX300 next to it mounted on a tripod on a table. This gave me opportunity to alter position and focus if required.

Disappointingly, given the effort we made in advance publicity, only a dozen friends turned up, but they were a warm and supportive audience, nevertheless, and Rachel shone, performing tirelessly, answering questions from the audience, at one point coping with the invasion of a small escaped puppy dog and a noisy avalanche of empty bottles being added to the recycling bin by the bar next door. Kath added backing vocals on a few Rachel songs she remembered from ten years ago. It was good to see them reunited in music again. The last time was when they sang the specially composed duet celebrating our Golden Wedding anniversary celebration two years ago. We are so blessed!

The recordings turned out quite well, despite the need to swap out memory cards, and the camera running out of battery near the end of the second half. Thankfully I'd been taking still photos with my Song HX50, which has an identical battery, so I was able to swap them around, without losing too much of one song. The challenge now will be to edit sound and video into a useable form which Rachel can publish on several different web platforms. But first, there's the small matter of having to re-learn how to use Windows Movie Maker. So forgettable, unfortunately. 

  

Ministry duties and time out

Rachel's was eventually re-united with her luggage, yesterday evening after anxious web checking and a transatlantic help desk call. A relief it's not lost, as it contained a few vital pieces of equipment and a folder with print outs of all her song lyrics she uses as an aide-memoire during performances.

I celebrated the midweek Eucharist at St Catherine's, and at St John's this morning. I was collected from the church after the latter service and driven to Thornhill for a funeral straight after. There were thirty people in the Briwnant chapel to say farewell to a nonogenarian. Often for someone that age it can be half a dozen. It makes a difference if there's an extended family, which isn't always the case these days, and if the person who's died has been active and living at home until recently. If a person is hospitalised or in a care home for years with Alzheimer's and single, they can easily slip from common memory, except for the closest of friends and carers. Sad indeed.

The chapel manager greeted me with 'Long time no see', which made me realise that although I have been in Thornhill recently for a burial, I haven't officiated at a cremation service here since last August. How time flies without me noticing it!

I got back in time for lunch, and spent the afternoon catching up on various crime movie series I like to watch, while Mother and Daughter went shopping for a new dress to wear for Saturday's gig. I completed watching 'Nit y Dia', on More 4's Walter Presents showcase, great for international drama series. It presented interesting insights into the dark side of the characters of responsible professional public servants.

It was filmed and produced in Barcelona, and is mostly in Catalan with a few characters speaking in Castilian Spanish. With the subtitles, and improved knowledge of Spanish, I found I was able to make sense of much more of the Catalan spoken that I'd imagined. It maybe due to the pace. Following movies in Castilian or Andalusian Spanish is harder because the dialogue is faster and speech seems more blurred. It'll take years to get used to.

After supper and rehearsal time, Rachel and I took a sunset walk, down to Blackweir bridge and enjoyed the cool of the evening, catching sight of the resident heron. The photos weren't very satisfactory as light levels dropped, however, not good for long zoom shots across the river.

Rachel's Homecoming

Much of our Monday was spent getting ready for Rachel's arrival tomorrow, although I met with a bereaved family at Pidgeons funeral home in the afternoon, to prepare a funeral service with them for a 94 year old, who'd served on HMS Renown as a teenage carpenter during the World War Two, and met Sir Winston Churchill, who travelled on the battleship to secret meetings with Allied leaders. Like many others, after demobilisation, he was happy to settle down back home, raise a family and stay in the same job for forty years. Many youngsters are far better travelled by the time they are twenty these days, but is their life experience of consumer holidays and educational visits as rich and powerful, leaving them as content with stable ordinary life?

Rachel's flight arrived slightly ahead of schedule enabling her to get the coach she'd booked on with ease, so she got home, joyful but tired in time for lunch. Afterwards she insisted that the first thing she wanted to do was to walk along the Taff and through Bute Park. She much prefers the cooler British climate, compared to an Arizona summer, and misses the extensive summer greenery which we take for granted. It was lovely to see her so happy to be home, even if we are going through what passes for a heat wave (28-30C) here at the moment. I've got used to hot weather this past few years so this level of heat is just about right for me, while others complain about getting in a sweat.

Annoyingly, Rachel's hold luggage didn't arrive with her after a change of flights in Houston, so she needed to borrow from Mum and buy some underwear, but it wasn't too long before she took out her guitar, checked the spare one Anto had brought for her to use last weekend, and was re-tuning them to the special settings she uses for accompanying her songs. Then, out came her Grandpa's beloved 'cello for some improvised duetting with Mum on the piano. Such a domestic delight!

The party continues

Up early this morning to walk to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist with four others. I breakfasted before others started getting up, then walked to St Luke's for the second service of the day. It must a a year since I was last here on a Sunday, although I was here last on Friday evening to join in the Mass for St Peter and St Paul's day, to remember Bishop June and the candidates to be ordained in the Cathedral tomorrow.

When I returned home, we had a lovely summer salad lunch followed by the birthday cake, Clare had made for the occasion, adorned with a chocolate record disc with INNATE on it. Owain wore his custom made tee shirt with the logo on for party dress. It was a lovely occasion, but over far too soon, as they all had to start for home by tea time, to be ready for work on Monday. 

Such is life nowadays. Never mind, they'll be back next week for Rachel's gig.