Montreux with Rhiannon - Day One

After a long lie-in Rhiannon emerged, still sleepy and we started breakfast together, then I had to go into town and have my wound attended to. Mr Cotton declared his satisfaction with progress so far, and suggested that now Clare was back, it could be done at home. This would clearly save him time and me money! He's writing a letter for my home GP, and I'll be able to collect the bill for payment in a day or so. While I'm able to benefit in part from use of my EHIC card here in Switzerland, the cost of a significant proportion I will have to pay for an seek reimbursement from my EHIC Plus travel insurance. I don't mind paying whatever it takes, as the relief I'm experiencing now is worth the expense.

I was back again within the hour range of the bus ticket, then the three of us walked into town along the promenade to the Casino, where we visited the Freddy Mercury Experience. This involves a free visit to the recording studio where several of Queen's Albums were made. The walls display photos and a timeline, and there are cabinets of memorabilia on display. Frankly, I lost interest, as I never was a fan of their music, and took  no interest in their affairs. Also I began to feel the aftermath of my wound treatment session, which entailed some painful probing an puncturing to stimulate the release of the residual inflammation fluid, so I walked back to the house and took a rest.

After the necessary photo opportunity with Freddie Mercury's statue on the quayside by the Place du Marche, the girls returned, and we had a snack. Later on, we took the funicular to Glion to show Rhiannon the amazing, albeit cloudy panorama of the mountains and lake. Then a drink at the gare funiculaire cafe-restaurant, with a boule of chocolate sorbet for Rhiannon, tea for Clare and a biere Bernoise for me, before returning on the funi. As we got out, Clare realised that she'd forgotten her rucksack, and so the girls went back up to retrieve it. Thankfully the two hour fare card still had time on it to make the aller-retour trip at no extra cost.

But the time we got back y wound dressing needed changing, only this time, Clare took charge of it at home, after careful preparation to ensure cleanliness and sterility. Not easy first time, but quite a learning experience for both of us. And she did well. I had a pain free and comfortable evening.

After supper, Rhiannon watched pop music videos on the TV until ten, then I watched the final episode of 'Keeping Faith', which sustained its brilliant sense of tension right to the end, apart from a strangely ambiguous final frame in which the husband who disappeared for a week appears out of nowhere with all three children around him, while she is about to embark on a romantic tussle with a local criminal on her own doorstep. Is this a guilty flashback?

Possibly, if this is a one off serial, but the ambiguity opens the door for a second series, I suppose. Since it first went out in bilingual formal six months ago, I believe a follow up has been commissioned, but this final anomaly was a bit unsatisfactory in my opinion. Nevertheless some brilliant acting from a predominantly female cast, showcasing some of our best Welsh talent - plus the lovely Carmarthenshire landscape. I bet this series will boost tourism in the region. 

Patiently waiting

Tuesday, Joy took me to have the wound dressed at eleven. In the afternoon there was a bible study session in church. We used Ephesians 6:10-20 and discussed aspects of spiritual struggle, using the Charles Wesley hymn 'Soldiers of Christ arise' (sung twice at Villars on Sunday) as a parallel text, as it is based on this passage of scripture. Sitting down properly all the time wasn't possible, but I got through it without making things worse for myself. Olive baked some wonderful rum-laced chocolate muffins, doing an extra three for Clare Rhiannon and I since she remembered what I had said about Rhiannon coming. How thoughtful! What a welcoming treat for a teen chocolate lover!

This morning wasn't very comfortable, I had diarrhoea half an hour before I was due to celebrate the midweek BCP Communion. I had a congregation of four adults and a child, bigger than usual, so I had to battle on, occasionally making verbal mistakes, which is unusual for me, probably due to the shock of the unexpected.

Before I could go and have the wound dressing changed, I had a meeting with Bruce and Tatyana, to prepare them for Saturday's wedding blessing. She and I have corresponded over months past. As a Bulgarian Orthodox Christian, I was keen that we should find ways to include traditional music from the Eastern liturgical tradition as well as the Western. It's involved a certain amount of on-line research, to obtain suitable material, but that's been a pleasant occupation, and they were pleased with the ideas I presented them.

After the rehearsal I took the bus into town for the surgery appointment. Mr Cotton himself treated me rather than a nurse, Being a hand-on sort of medic he was keen to inspect how the drainage was going. He declared himself satisfied, and said that the earlier bout of diarrhoea could probably be due to the blocked gland functioning properly and signalling to the bowel a return to normality. An interesting thought. I did a small amount of shopping after the treatment, then took a bus back to the house. I was able to use the same ticket, as I was within its hour's usage limit. 

As I got off the bus, there were two burly black clad ticket inspectors on the pavement checking people's tickets. It's rare to see an inspector on much local public transport apart from trains, but even rarer to have one on only my second bus use in three duty tours here. Getting single use tickets from a machine here is far too complex, though Clare has now mastered it, which is why we have tickets. Previously I've just given up in frustration and walked instead. 

Clare and Rhiannon's flight was subjected to a half hour delay, but without cabin baggage they were able to walk through and dash for a train which arrived Territet at eleven thirty. The happy arrival was celebrated with chocolate muffins!

  

Unexpected diagnosis

After lunch, Clare left for Geneva Airport and her flight to Birmingham to collect Rhiannon for a few days stay with us. They return late Wednesday night, and Tuesday is Kath's 47th birthday, so she's pleased to be there to celebrate with her. Determined to do something about my painful affliction, I sought Joy's help to get an introduction to a local doctor. She arranged an afternoon appointment and took me by car to a surprising place, Montreux gare. 

We parked underneath the station and took the lift up to platform one, the original station platform along which the first railway administration offices and booking hall were built in the 1970s, with imposing municipal facades. In the 21st century the property has been re-purposed for commercial purposes and contains a gym and a medical centre, while down at ground level a mini-Migros supermarket and modern toilets are housed. The medical centre covers two storeys of medical facilities and consulting rooms. 

Here, I met a charming Swiss GP who heard my story. She introduced me to a colleague, a Mr Michael Cotton, an Englishman and a surgeon who'd served for 24 years in Zimbabwe and South Africa, then ten years at the CHUV, Lausanne's University Hospital. I learned that he's a member of our neighbouring Vevey English Church congregation and a Licensed Lay Reader. I couldn't have ended up in better hands!

He took a case history and gave me a thorough physical examination and identified the source of the problem, not with errant haemorrhoids, but a blocked gland in the anal sphincter, which developed an abscess. This hadn't been spotted back home in the pre colonoscopy examination, and maybe it only developed noticeably afterwards. Anyway it was now giving serious trouble. It would need to be operated upon immediately. He said he could do it there and then with local anaesethetic, but if not it would mean a few (costly) days in hospital in Lausanne. My confidence in him was already high, so I agreed to let him work on me.

Assisted by two nurses, who did all the preparatory work including the local anaesthesia, he tackled the job, effectively carving a drain hole in me to let the accumulated fluid escape. With the wound dressed, I walked out two and a half hours later, with the task of managing the effluent to occupy me for as long as it takes to take away the swelling. Thankfully Joy returned to take me back to the house and see me in safely. 

The operation was not without pain, despite anaesthetic, but once it was over I began to experience a sense of relief, as my body de-stressed from having to cope with pain and discomfort for so long. I felt I was on the mend. The pain now is different, and I'm having to clear up behind myself, and go about everyday business as usual on my own. It'll still be a while before I can sit down properly, only lying down is possible. I have to stand to use a computer. It's awkward using a table or a phone lying on one's side. Screen auto-rotate definitely has to be off. It's tiring but I shall be able to sleep more comfortably at last, thanking the Lord for providing the right man at the right time.

Jet setter's wedding

Church Warden Jane and I were much relieved yesterday afternoon when the wedded couple turned up, presented their credentials, and paid up in advance, as required. It was very difficult, knowing so little about a couple, more from social media that from their application form. They had not even shared with us their disappointment that the wedding arranger they thought they'd engaged would not return their calls any more than return ours. As a result there were no flowers for the ceremony in church. Anyway, the groom is a banker and the bride is a conservationist working with an NGO in the upper reaches of the Niger river by the Camerounian border. As this region is home to several global conservation NGOs, the reason for holding a big wedding celebration here is understandable.

Both families are from the elite of Nigerian society, and guests attending the ceremony came from two different Gulf states, the USA, UK and Switzerland, though I guess two thirds of them flew in from Lagos for the occasion. There were 120 people in church., and we ran on 'African time' as Jane called in. The groom was 15 minutes late and the bride 45 minutes late, and I started the celebration a hour behind schedule. At least it gave me a chance to rehearse the congregation in singing Amen and an Alleluia response to the Psalm. This went down well, people sang with great enthusiasm and apparently, we heard today, continued to sing them at the reception. I wasn't invited, but it gave me great pleasure, knowing that the songs of worship learned spilled over into the wedding feast. For a brief moment, life and worship have continuity between them.

We were twenty people and three dogs in church for today's Sung Eucharist, laf and half choir and congregation. Choirmaster Peter is off sick with pneumonia, but Geoff his predecessor took charge and all went as normal. Clare had a lunch rendezvous with former colleague at Le Contretemps in the port. I ate alone and got ready for the trip to Aiglon Chapel in Villars for an Evening Eucharist. Jane met me from the train at Aigle again. Pain from my troubled rear end was worse than usual so I had to stand for the train journey and wedge myself awkwardly into the car seat for the ascent to avoid pressure. Fortunately by over use of medication it calmed down sufficiently for me to take the service, for just five people plus Jane. A dozen regulars are away on this final weekend before term starts at Aiglon College. 

The elderly couple to whom I took Communion at home, just after New Year were among the few. He broke his leg back then, and still walks with a stick, his recovery being slow, but he's walking, that's what counts. For reasons unknown, the lady accompanying hymns on the piano repeated the first hymn at the end. It wasn't a liturgical catastrophe, however, as it was 'Soldiers of Christ arise' a great Charles Wesley hymn summarising the message of the Ephesians 6:10-20 which I'd preached about.

Today has been quite a struggle to functional normally against the background of discomfort from inflammation. Tomorrow, I'm chasing a medical appointment.

       

Lying low

Wednesday morning at the midweek BCP Communion service with me were Geoff and Poppy his dog and Bethany-Ann with her youngest daughter, rising five, wearing a toutou over her skirt. Her mother is teaching her how to help out at the altar, so she puts the candles out and tidies things away in the right place. It's not often I'm served in the sanctuary by someone wearing a toutou!

At lunchtime, Collette arrived from Arlesheim to stay with us for a couple of days. We speak a mix of English and French between us, which is quite a mental exercise. There's always lots to discuss, especially with Clare, as they were Steiner School colleagues together in Geneva.

In the afternoon I was visited by an elderly British expat who has lived in Montreux half the year and half the year in Florida for ages, but has now decided to re-establish himself in Britain. He came to ask if I could visit an even older British expat who lives near the Casino in town, so I promised I would do this and arranged to see him today. He's ninety nine and was widowed a few years ago. He lives in a fine apartment overlooking the lake, cared for by daily visits from a home nursing team. His mobility is limited, but he's alert and reads the Financial Times daily, having spent a lifetime in the global shipping business. When I arrived a very loud intruder alarm was sounding. Instead of pressing the entry button, the nurse pressed the alarm button. It took twenty minutes to find the system code and restore tranquility. An unusual way to start a pastoral visit!

Apart from this, I've spent the last couple of days mostly in the house, despite the dreadful humidity, leaving the girls to walk and talk without me. I did some cooking, and we ate lunch and supper together. I've not felt much like going out and walking since returned from Grabs, as my haemorrhoid pain problem has worsened and I've had to focus on pain control, using anti-inflammatory and anti-spasm medication. It's hard working out the most effective dosage rhythm, as intensity varies through the day, from day to day. I am well used to getting up at night, so I manage somehow not to suffer from sleep loss. Having said that, I've been sleeping extra hours this week, and resting in the afternoon, as it seems to make a difference.

We're noticing how much more expensive medication is in Swiss pharmacies. It's just as well I have additional income in Swiss Francs to cover the cost, especially if I am required to get a consultation at the local medical centre. Even if this is a nominal cost with an EHIC card, any special remedy is likely to be expensive. So far, I haven't felt that this resort has been necessary.

Talking of weddings, Saturday's couple have communicated with us only minimally, so apart from an agreed order of service, there's a lot to be done before and during the rehearsal scheduled tomorrow afternoon.

Going East to see old friends

There were two dozen at St John's for the Sunday Eucharist. When all but the Church Wardens had departed, Church Warden Neil, took the Church House router and attached it to a socket in the wall of the meeting room next door, to check this was an operational fibre-optic connection, which it is. He's very pleased with this, as it'll be possible to have a wireless router there and use the signal in the church social area to stream UK video broadcasts to a TV or projector on special occasions of interest, as well as hold film nights using Netflix. Properly promoted, this could attract members of the wider community to visit and socialise in Church, and kindle interest in worship.

After Neil and Jane took their leave, it was time to lock the church and take the stopping train to Lausanne, from the station across the road, then the Inter-Regio to Zurich, another train to Sargans and finally the local train to Buchs, where our old friend Heinz met us at the station and walked  us back to the rooftop apartment where he and Maria-Luisa have made their home in retirement. It's just a year since we last made this journey to seen them, and it was marvellous to relax and catch up over an evening meal.

After a leisurely breakfast on Monday morning we went by train to Bad Ragaz, further south in the Rhine Valley towards Chur. The mountains to the east of the Rhine at this point are the setting for Johanna Spry's children's novel Heidi, so the region is well visited by foreign tourists for this reason alone. Bad Ragaz however, is an elite Swiss spa and golf hotel town, whose development dates from the Grand Tour era. Its 18 hole golf course hosts the annual Swiss Seniors Open Championship, but also a triennial open air Festival of Sculpture.

The area around the town and within contains permanent exhibits, but at festival time it claims to be Europe's largest sculpture park, occupying key sites on the golf course, as well as the town's streets and hotel precincts. The number of exhibits is said to rise to 400, attracting an international range of contributors. The walk around the course and into the village took an hour and a half, with frequent photographic stops. The majority of exhibits in the public domain are abstract, with just a few with human form. The placement of many of the sculptures has been chosen carefully, with colour and form in mind. I found that observing and photographing them was a stimulating mental exercise, as consideration of the meaning or theme of the piece was of minor importance to appreciating their form and setting. One of the values and purposes of art is to challenge viewers to look at everything from a different perspective. This, I felt was true for me. My photos are here.

We enjoyed a regional dish from nearby the Grisons region, eating lunch in the Central Restaurant in the main street, opposite a municipal building that started life as a spa. There's still a fountain in the porch opening on to the street, where warm spa water can be drunk, apparently good for one's health. Outside was an ice cream stall, with a 1.5m plastic ice cream cone advertising its wares on the pavement beside it. It's an everyday sight in many holiday resorts. For me, what comes to mind is the question of how to distinguish between a mass marketing artifact like this and an intentional sculpture which may use the same materials, shapes and colours even. Context counts a lot I guess.

We returned to Grabs to escape the intense afternoon heat, and only ventured out again as the sun was setting. We walked to the Alte Stadt, about half a kilometer away, a well preserved collection of mediaeval wooden houses, said to be the only one to have escaped being burned down over six centuries after supper on the terrace. This quiet corner is still a residential area, not holiday homes. It sits at the bottom of a rocky 50m outcrop, on top of which is the fine Schloss Grabs. Its slopes are covered in vineyards. Well, it's still the Rhineland, after all. It was dusk when we walked back around the small like next to the Alte Stadt. Enchanting! My photos are here.

Today, we bade farewell to Heinz and Mari-Luisa mid morining, making the return trip with the same itinerary, just enough time to make each of the four changes of train comfortably, without any delay. We got off in Montreux, did a lot of food shopping, then caught the trolley bus to Terriet, as we had a go-anywhere day ticket - CHF49 with the abonnement demi-tarif. What a bargain, and what a lovely outing! 

Travel plans

At last! An email with an apology and a copy of the certificate arrived this morning. Apart from the rehearsal meeting with the couple, liturgical preparations for the wedding were done and approved two weeks ago. Now I can concentrate on preparing a wedding taking place the following Saturday. That one calls for a recorded mix of western classical and Bulgarian Orthodox liturgical music for use at a wedding. This is rather out of the ordinary, but something I shall enjoy.

Each afternoon this week, apart from walking into town for shopping, we've walked to the plage by the Chateau de Chillon so that Clare can swim. The water offshore is really warm at the moment after weeks of hot weather, although there lots of small pieces vegetation to be negotiated, blown from the trees on occasional stormy days. Even by Swiss standards it's been a long hot summer.

Because of the heat, we've not felt like venturing far up to now, but on Sunday, after church, we go by train to Grabs on the border with Lichtenstein to see our old friends Heinz and Marie-Luisa. As we both now have abonnements-demi tarif,  we were able to benefit from discount fare offers. It's costing  us CHF202 for the both of us to travel there and back - a four and a half hour journey. What this would cost in the UK doesn't bear thinking about.

Goings, comings and not yet arrivals

A very early start Tuesday morning, with Ann and Clare up at five for a six thirty train to Geneva Airport. Clare will accompany her to the departure gate, and then head into the city to meet several old friends. After their departure I returned to bed for a couple of hours, before getting on with the usual domestic tasks of the day.

This past few days Jane and I have been worried at the lack of response to emails from the bride in Nigeria who has requested a wedding blessing, We've been waiting a week to see a digital copy of the civil wedding certificate, before we can proceed with arrangements. And we have to see the original as well, just before the wedding. Photos have appeared on Nigerian social media of the ceremony, so there's no good reason, having promised us to send a copy, that we shouldn't have received it.

So, we've been thinking today about sending a formal letter to her, with the approval of Archdeacon Adele, explaining the consequences of this inaction. Fortuitously Adele visited us yesterday afternoon and stayed for supper. She'd come to brief church council members about interviewing a prospective candidate for the job as Chaplain today. I'm so delighted to know that they have someone who is interested in the job. it's been a long wait, nearly two years. This church has continued to function well and pretty normally during the interregnum.

After breakfast we went off early into town to do some shipping leaving the house empty and tidy for the candidate's visit. The process seemed to have gone well, but it'll be a little while before the candidate's decision is made known, and then a lot longer until a name is announced publicly. It's all very hush-hush, to avoid gossip and politicking around the names of candidates. This time Bishop Robert has proposed someone, as advertising the post was unsuccessful. Supply of suitable priests falls far short of demand these days.

An email to the bride setting a deadline for response, suitably approved by Authority, was sent off this evening. Meanwhile we wait and wonder what's going on out there.

  

  

Glion picnic

There we two dozen of us for yesterday morning's Sung Eucharist. Clare sang in the choir again. We welcomed worshippers from New Zealand, South Korea, Australia and the USA, as well as British and Swiss people. It's typical of St John's, so it's always worth asking someone unfamiliar where they come from.

After the service, Ann treated us to lunch at 'Le Contretemps' in Territet Port, then we went for a walk to the Chateau de Chillon, where she and Clare regretted not having brought their swimming costumes, but went for a paddle anyway. In the heavy rain began, and we woke up to the prospect of a day of heavy showers.

We rode up to Glion on the funicular railway behind the house for a picnic lunch. Fortunately the rain held off while we were there and the sun shone. We took Ann into the marvellous garden of the Hotel de Rigi Vaudois, overlooking the lake, and were surprised to find a ground floor restaurant open. Last summer, the place was shuttered, and had been for ages, due to bankruptcy. There's some external scaffolding, indicating that renovation work is in progress, but little accessible information on the web to say if the whole of this magnificent building is to re-open as a hotel.

We walked down to the Parish Church to eat our picnic lunch, as its lakeside exterior is wrapped around by a cloister with benches. At this stage, the sun was still shining and clouds were on the move. We descended to Territet, then caught the bus into town to do some shopping. I went to the railway station to buy my abonnement demi-tarif, which will last until the day I leave. Clare booked us discount tickets on-line to take us across Switzerland to visit Heinz and Mari-Luisa in Grabs in the coming week. I'm wondering where else we can go this time to benefit from half price fares.

Visit to Vevey, remembering Dad

We walked into Montreux this morning, and took the paddle ship 'La Suisse' to Vevey. The weather was perfect for the twenty minute journey there. Built in 1910, this was originally a paddle steamer, but I believe has since been converted to diesel-electric power. Passing along the main ship to reach the front deck you're greeted by the sight of the massive crankshafts which drive the paddles. 

While were in port, there were two 'grease monkeys' inspecting and topping up lubricant pots above each gleaming crankshaft. The engine room interior was immaculately clean, and a sight which took me back to travelling on the paddle steamer plying back and forth over the Severn Estuary between Weston super Mare and Cardiff. I recall standing in wonder, aged seven, alongside my Dad, staring through an internal viewing window at similar engine at work on a coal powered paddle ship. It was quicker and more exciting to reach Weston for the annual Miners' Fortnight holiday this way than to go by train, needing to change, and lug cases from platform to platform in Bristol Temple Meads. It was a busy time, demand for the ship was high, so we weren't always successful. 

Gazing into the engine room well with delight, I felt from a moment as if Dad was still stood beside me. Co-incidentally, tomorrow would have been his 113th birthday, but he died 45 years ago. Being a mine transport engineer, he had a great love of heavy machinery of all kinds, and took pleasure in sharing them with me. I wonder what he'd have made of the mechanical world of nowadays? I'm so glad he lived to see a man walk on the moon.

We had a leisurely walk around Vevey's old town, and its bustling Saturday market in the Place du Marché. A silver band was ready to play in the shelter of the covered market hall, and outside there was an unusual marching band of a dozen wearing local folk costumes, with an assortment of brass instruments and several drummers. They made a loud raucous sound, and their repertoire was of carnival music with jazz-rock flavour. There's another smaller square at the heart of the Old Town, which was also crowded with stalls, and a third wind band was playing here, more sedately. Quite an unexpected outdoor treat, but for what reason it was happening, we didn't find out.

We returned to the Nestlé Alimentarium, discovered last summer, for lunch, this time on the terrace overlooking the lake. After another walk along the lakeside promenade, we caught the passle ship back to Montreux, this time aboard the 'Montreux'. Launched in 1904 this is the eldest of the CGN operational fleet, and despite its traditional means of propulsion it now enjoys the latest hi-tech steering gear, as a result of its last re-fit. After more than a century, these beautiful craft still give pleasure to hundreds of thousands of visitors, and to some regular commuters along, or across Lac Léman.

Looking forward to making the trip again with Rhiannon, when she joins us at the end of the month.

Movie night at Church House

Yesterday,  rested after a late breakfast we walked along the lakeside with Ann to Chillon and back and made a shopping trip into town. More walking along the lakeside today, and then after supper this evening, we welcomed six congregation members for a showing of 'Made in Dagenham' on the house wide screen TV, with a pizza supper on the lap, prepared by Jane with help from Clare.

It's a thought provoking film, telling the story of the 1968 women machinist's strike at Ford's Dagenham plant which brought the place to a standstill. It was a marvellous expression of militant working class action which became front page international news at the time, as the campaign concerned equal pay for equal work. Most remarkable is that forty years on, pay inequality is still a hot issue in every sphere of economic life. This begs many questions about economic and social structures we have taken for granted over millennia, globally. The film was released in 2010, but this is the first time I've seen it, and glad to have done so, as it as timely as ever.

Late arrivals

Yesterday afternoon, Joy and Geoff took me up to Monica' house up the mountainside at Les Avants for a Bible study session and afternoon tea. We were treated to a deliciously light chocolate sponge cake which her sixteen year old grandson had baked. He has no ambition to be a chef or pastrycook, he just loves baking, and works with recipes researched on the internet. Our study compared Mark and Luke's versions of the Transfiguration story, and then looked a 2 Peter 1 "We were eyewitnesses of his majesty ..." I'm impressed at how this regular group meeting has persisted since the last Chaplain left. I can't think of any chaplaincy bible study group that's survived an interregnum apart from here. It doesn't matter that it's rarely more than half a dozen people, it's core commitment that counts.

Both Clare and Ann's flights were due to land mid evening, with a connecting train arriving at half part ten. After celebrating the midweek BCP Holy Communion service with Geoff, and doing some shopping, it was a long day of waiting with a couple of hours spent cooking a spicy veggie soup for a late supper. Clare's flight was delayed ten minutes on leaving. For interest, I tracked it down to its final approach run on the EasyJet app, but then had an unexpected wait, as the aircraft was hindered from discharging passengers and luggage by a heavy downpour and thunderstorm. For this reason they missed a connecting train which would have delivered them to Territet gare, across the road from the house by eleven, but arrived  at Montreux gare instead just before a quarter to midnight.

Joy very kindly offered to meet them and bring them back to Church House, and I went with her. As they were still on British time, they weren't too tired for such a late supper, so it was a good hour before we got to bed, and longer before sleep took over, due to the heat and the excitement. So, we all slept late. After lunch, Clare and Ann went for a walk as far as the Chateau to Chillon, but I had to stay behind, as pain from my problematic piles left me feeling quite unwell. I stayed in bed much of the day. Thankfully, as Ann is a retired nurse familiar with this affliction, she, proposed a routine to manage the episodes of extreme discomfort with regular low doses of ibuprofen and buscopan. Needless to say, I'm willing to give it a go!

Anniversary separation

Monday was our wedding anniversary, but Clare was at the Welsh National Eisteddfod in Cardiff, attending the Crowning of the Bard ceremony. Beforehand, she attended Pauline Grainger's funeral at St John's City Parish Church. The place was full, with a large number of her 'choir friends' taking part, singing anthems in her memory. First with Mike and now Pauline, it's the second time this year I've been out of the country, unable to attend the funeral of a good friend. Then there were also Roy Damary and John Meredith's funerals, people I'd worked with in Geneva, dying within weeks of each other. I didn't find out about either of them until after they were laid to rest. All I could do was remember in prayer Pauline, as I did the others during the day. Not being there with the mourners never feels enough, however, to do justice to their passing.

There was shopping to do, in preparation for the arrival of Ann and Clare, but I also walked to the Chateau de Chillon. Unsurprisingly, given the heat, there were more people than usual swimming in the lake. The sound of numerous grebe chicks cheeping loudly offshore was noticeable as I walked. Come to think of it, I'm here nearly a fortnight earlier, this August, so the chicks are younger and more vocal in their demands.

Anticipated Transfiguration

We celebrated the feast of the Transfiguration today, in advance of tomorrow. It was good to be back again, with a congregation of two dozen mostly familiar faces. After lunch, I took the train to Aigle where churchwarden Jane met me and drove us up to Villars for the evening Eucharist with fifteen present. This was an occasion for me to remember in prayer Roy Damary, Reader at Holy Trinity Geneva, who died back in June. He was up in Villars bringing Communion from the Reserved Sacrament to a group of Christmas Day worshippers, a couple of weeks before my last visit there in January. 

I talked briefly about him coming at great personal effort driving 120+km from Geneva on Christmas Day, stepping in when they had no priest to serve them. An expression of his concern that the church shouldn't fail to maintain its round of worship, and naturally that's what being a lay minister was all about. After the service, nobody made mention of this to me. Then, it occurred to me that there may not have been anyone present on this occasion who was there on Christmas Day, such is the fluidity of attendance among regulars as well as visitors.

Maintaining pastoral relations with mobile people in dispersed congregations of this kind is never easy.  There's always a risk that ministry becomes nothing more than than cordial but transient engagement between consumers and producers of religious events. It's already characteristic of funeral and wedding ministry, despite efforts made to ensure the occasion is charged with personal meaning. Does publicity and marketing of church ministry make any difference? I doubt it. Good quality information may encourage people to take church ministry and ministers seriously, but time is needed for lasting relationships to grow, and in an increasingly mobile rootless world, this is far harder to achieve. I don't have any answers. There's more to learn about this new world, to know what the right questions may be.
  

Baptismal encounter

When I came to prepare for today's Christening, I couldn't find the vials containing the Oil of the Catechumens and the Oil of Chrism. I had this vague recollection of having seen them bundled into the Blessed Sacrament aumbry in the Lady Chapel and thinking that wasn't appropriate at the time. I made some enquiries, but drew a blank. The aumbry key was not to be found. What I had forgotten when I started hunting was that I had removed them to a separate place on my last visit. 

Eventually I found them in a box labelled 'Our Lady' sitting quietly on a sacristy shelf. How memory can play tricks on us! The aumbry key, identifiable by a tassel attached to it, was as Caroline the sacristan insisted, in the main vestry safe, but instead of being visible, inits usual position, it was hiding in one of the chalices at the back of the safe.

The next obstacle was finding a baptism certificate. There were none in the study or in the sacristy, and it's possible the stock had run out and not yet been replaced, but nobody could remember. Then, by accident in with the baptism register in the safe, I found an old booklet of baptism certificate forms, dating back, I'd guess to early in the twentieth century, although the stub relating to the first entry was dated 1954. 

Amazingly, there were two loose certificate forms in the empty booklet and I was able to use one of them. The story of their daughter Mia's vintage baptism certificate gave her parents a little amusement, or was it bemusement? The church has only had one baptism register, in its life. The first entry dates from 1866, when ministry to English holidaymakers and residents here began in a hotel private chapel, ten years before the church was constructed.

The certificate, like the register, is simpler than modern equivalents, having no column for date of birth, and no separate column to account for the 'rank, profession or occupation of the mother as well as the father. That's a change for the better from my perspective.

The parents and brothers of Magnus the father arrived an hour early from Italy, and by that time all was ready, so I had time to chat with them about the history of the British in Switzerland, St John's and the nature of the Church of England's reformed catholic character, or you could say equally, its evolved protestanism I guess, as things have changed so much as a result of the liturgical revisions which have taken place during my lifetime. The mother Sarah's family are Belgian Catholics and Magnus's family are Church of Sweden, protestants, yet the baptism service nowadays would be equally familiar to everyone, both in form and content, largely due to ecumenical agreements made on Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry in the last half of the twentieth century. Great, and hopefully lasting achievements on the path to the reconciliation of churches worldwide.

I greatly enjoyed celebrating the baptism with these two relaxed and happy families. They expressed their appreciation, as they took their leave, and Sarah gave me a box of Lindt liqueur chocolates as a personal thank you gift. Then I walked to the lakeside apartment of Geoff and Joy for an apero, and met a couple from Texas who are newcomers to St John's. I ended up staying until nearly ten, well after the couple had left, as we got into some deep conversations about the changing face of the church and its ministry. Fortunately, my sermon for tomorrow was prepared before I came, and already printed. Now it's just a matter of getting to sleep in the heat.

  

Back to Montreux - yet again

Free at last to get on with packing, I had all of Wednesday and half of Thursday, to prepare and pack for my six week stint in Montreux, where it promises to be as hot, even hotter than Cardiff for several weeks to come. It's rare that I don't bother to think about packing a pullover - just in case! As ever I exercised myself over which cameras to take, and ended up eliminating my Alpha 68 and its lenses on the grounds of weight in my rucksack cabin bag. On the outbound journey, it would be necessary to carry a cool bag and a couple of freezer packs to keep the tubes of ointment prescribed by Lt Col Davies at fridge temperature, and this couldn't go in my hold baggage just in case it got lost in transit. The worry I had was about getting the cold package through security. It the event it turned out not to be a problem as the screening staff were very understanding.

Clare drove me to the station for the two o'clock train to Bristol, which was on time. However before it arrived, an announcement was made about the next train to arrive at platform two, which was for Manchester. If the Bristol train had been announced it was before I got on to the platform and before it came in. Most confusing. There's evidently no co-ordination between the team which manages the platform and the announcement broadcast. To compound the error, when the correct train arrived, in its shine new bright GWR green livery, it had no destination panel that I could see, or at least if it had one, it wasn't lit up. There wasn't even a quick printed out notice affixed to the train windscreen or side windows. It could have been going anywhere. How dumb is this!

Anyway I arrived at the airport in good time, and quickly checked in with the new automatic check in system working well. There were long summer queues passing through security clearance at fair pace, so within a quarter of an hour of getting off the buss, I was in the departure lounge. No long after, the phone's EasyJet app issued the first of two flight delay notifications. French air traffic controllers are at it again, unfortunately, holding Europe, not just France to ransom. In the end our flight was an hour delayed, which meant that my train from Geneva to Montreux got in at half past midnight.  

By the time I had something to eat and unpacked, it was two in the morning, and too hot to lie under covers, though not unpleasant. It was nearly ten by the time I surfaced for breakfast. Before lunch I walked to the shops in town to buy additional veggies and a few other food supplies to get start me off domestically speaking. Later in the afternoon I had a visit from the mother of the infant I am due to baptise tomorrow afternoon, to check out certain elements of the service. Her husband's parents and two brothers are driving from Italy where they've been on holiday, to attend the service. Her  family live in Lausanne. He's Swedish and she's Belgium, and all are fluent English speakers. The couple were married several years ago in St John's, so it's a pleasure to welcome them back.

Walking along the flower bedecked promenade this afternoon was such a delight, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. This is my third visit in just a twelvemonth, to a region where I still feel very much at home and alive in spirit. I'm so grateful for the blessing of having so much pleasure in the performance of ministry duties in my old age.