Winter music

This morning, with the temperature hovering freezing, I celebrated the midweek Eucharist again at St John's with eight others, then went to Riverside Surgery for a change of dressing before walking home in time for lunch. By teatime, rain was turning into sleet, with snow promised later. We went to town by bus in the evening walking to the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama for a piano recital.  By this time, pavements were treacherous and I regretted my choice of footwear.

Llyr Williams played a couple of Schubert's last sonatas, plus two of the elaborations on a couple of songs from his 'Winterreise' cycle by Franz List. A powerful evening's music. Schubert's sonata in B Flat was the subject of BBC Radio 4's 'Soul Music' programme earlier in the week. By coincidence, an unfamiliar musical masterpiece was given its historical context, and its key music themes were already familiar by the time we heard it performed live. And what a performance! 

Wales has to be most proud of one of its great Classical music interpreters and performers. I love his passion and the energy he brings to the work. In performance, he doesn't forget that that Schubert had just passed  thirty when he went through his final phase of creative output, knewing, like Mozart that he didn't have long to live. 

To get home after the concert, we caught a 63 bus going up Cathedral Road. The driver announced a change of route just beyond our stop, avoiding the last and steepest part of Penhill, just in case the falling snow was unsurmountable. Meadow Street looked beautiful and quiet under its fresh white blanket. It never lasts long, but it gives an excuse to get a camera out for some special night shots. 

  

A trouble shooting visit and the sound of 'cello chez nous

I had a notification from my GP surgery early this morning asking me to book in for a hypertension review, rather puzzling as my blood pressure is being checked in surgery on a regular basis in the run up to the operation. It's always a lot higher in the surgery than at home where I'm more comfortable and relaxed than I can ever be in clinic. Then I remembered that my my three monthly medication supply is about to run out, so maybe there was a hidden logic to the scheduled message anyway. Just in case, I phoned to check if this was needed, and ended up getting a GP appointment straight after the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning, which I was asked to celebrate. 

There were nine of us at the service. I then popped over to see the doctor, then returned for a cup of coffee and a chat ten minutes later. I think he was satisfied by the chart of home readings I'd taken, that all was as good as it could be under the circumstances. A medication review will be necessary once I've recovered from surgery, if my blood pressure has naturally dropped to where it should be for a man of my age. Still, with the op in two weeks, that's at least another month away.

I was grateful to have another acupuncture session booked for just after lunch, as the last couple of days of wound pain and discomfort have been pretty taxing on my energy level. It did me a power of good, though I felt it was a good idea to ask Clare to accompany me on a visit to Russell's to trouble-shoot his computer. He had received a couple of emails recently some someone claiming to have hacked his router, planted malware on his machine, and threatening to expose him for downloading pornography unless he paid a sum in bitcoin. He'd meant to ask me about this yesterday, but forgot and rang later in the evening. 

I thought this was something about which he should contact his ISP, Plusnet, but in searching for a helpline contact number, I came across a user group forum in which was posted an exact description of a similar scam email content. I reported this to Russell, but thought it'd be a good idea to look at his machine, a Dell laptop still running Windows 7, but now doing so very slowly. His broadband speed was stable and adequate for his kind of usage, but the machine ran slowly. It was using the old Windows Security essentials suite, and was fully up to date. 

An imposed security scan revealed nothing suspicious, which was a good start, so I installed CCleaner. It took more than an hour to run. It was the first system cleanup that had been run in its six years of life. Over 15GB of redundant files and nearly 1,900 useless Registry entries were removed. I think it should be OK for the future, as the CCleaner installation will pop up a spring-clean notification from time to time, which I know will get attention. Such a shame for Microsoft to foist such a badly designed system on an unwitting public. 

I'd like to persuade Russell to use Linux, but he relies on several Windows only programs, the equivalent of which would need to be found, installed and learned, and that's a bit of a learning curve for someone of ninety two. 

About the time we were due to leave, Clare had a phone call from Eloise, a therapist who works with her on muscular problems. She's also a 'cello teacher, and Clare had invited her to give a lesson to one of her students at our house, using my father's 'cello, which is stored chez nous for Rachel, as it would be too vulnerable to the horrible climate conditions in Phoenix where she lives.

The call reminded Clare that we were in danger of running late to get home, so we departed rapidly and joined a stream of traffic going into town which was thankfully only a fraction of the stream of traffic leaving town, so we got home with five minutes to spare. It was lovely to hear Eloise playing one of the Bach 'cello suite opening pieces on my dad's 100 year old instrument. She was very taken with it, and looks forward to returning for another play, another lesson. What a pleasure for us!

  

Hard decision times

Our artist friend Fran came to lunch yesterday. In recent months she has been working on the initial stages of PhD studies into the iconography of Sofia - Holy Wisdom. For her it's meant lots of reading and the occasional difficult seminar meeting, but no time for painting, so she's decided this path is not for her. She needs a way to enquire which is more praxis oriented, and steeped in dialogue with other practitioners engaged the same theme. The standard scholarly route seems too narrow and head centred to stimulate a creative response. Thankfully she has discovered this before expending a great deal of energy on it. I still look forward to the eventual outcome. She's a wise and thoughtful person.

This morning, Clare went to her study group at Russell's house. I had another dressing change visit to Riverside Clinic after lunch and then I drove to Dinas Powys to drink coffee and chat with Russell about the spiritual impact of modern technology on our lives today. It's something we're both interested in.

Clare went off to choir practice not long after I got back. I don't have enough spare energy to be able to acquit myself usefully in group singing. It's a disappointment, but I cannot tell from one day to another what impact the behaviour of my wounds will have on me, as it's so variable. After several quietish days with minimal pain and discomfort, today wasn't a good one.

More brexit votes in Parliament this evening. I'd be amazed if these result in a breakthrough, given the insistences already given by the EU that further changes to the negotiated withdrawal agreement are out of the question. No only that, but also deep seated division of opinion and political power plays being made by MPs make consensus seem unreachable. Meanwhile the day of withdrawal gets ever closer, and with it, heaven knows what kind of chaos.

  

Good news for the Parish

We went to St Catherine's Parish Eucharist this morning. Fr Roy Doxsey celebrated and preached. It must be more than a year since we last met over at St German's.  Like me he's been busy with locum duties in Llandaff and St David's dioceses, and has also done a locum stint in St Helena, standing in for Bishop Richard Fenwick, a contemporary ordained in Llandaff the same year as me. At the end of the service, he announced the appointment of Fr Rhys Jenkins as a non-stipendiary Curate in the Benefice from the beginning of Lent this year. Rhys is a GP in Ely, lives in the Benefice and knows the three churches well as a lay person and now as a priest. He's a welcome addition to the ministry team and the news was welcomed with delight by all who know him.

After lunch, I walked to St David's hospital for a dressing change, and from there caught the 61 bus to Fairwater for a bereavement visit. I met the family of a young man of 25 born severely disabled and looked after by his parents throughout his life. Despite the extreme limitations of his life, he was much loved and developed a radiant personality , endearing himself to all who got to know him as he grew from child to adult. His parents had never expected him to live so long, as his condition was such that he could have died at any time, but they accepted each day with him as a gift, and are now profoundly grateful for the grace they have received from him. Meeting them, and his sister was a rather special experience. I expect that officiating at his funeral at St John's, is going to be out of the ordinary, and very well attended. There's lots to reflect upon as I prepare for that.

Update time, reflection time

Clare went to the gym just after seven this morning. I had a lie-in, dozing and listening to the radio for another three hours. It was an overcast and rainy day. I ventured out for some exercise after lunch but soon my rain jacket was soaked through, so I headed home, fed up with this  miserable weather. I miss Mediterranean mildness and blue skies.

At least it meant I could occupy myself, supervising the installation of updates to my Windows 10 computers. This invariably means an hour or so when they are unusable or running frustratingly slow, with a series of reboots, and sometimes security or software updates clashing with operating system updates to the detriment of all. It's a continuing shambles leaving hundreds of millions of dependent users frustrated and less than fully productive.

I keep promising myself to make the laptop a dual boot Linux Mint device, or else ditch Windows entirely. Keeping one Windows machine for legacy software usage seems necessary, albeit less so, now that the Cardiff Business Safe workload has dwindled to nothing. That's a sad tale of distrust and business intrigue, unworthy of everyone involved, including me. I simply ran out of patience with those clashing alpha male egos, and lost confidence that I could make a positive difference and build sound bridges of trust.

This may have something to do with the time several years ago when my present physical troubles first emerged. Work demands became less easy to manage and I had to disengage from day to day business affairs and relationships. Ultimately, however,if you don't garner enough of the right kind of active support for such an innovative voluntary social enterprise, failure is inevitable sooner or later, even if it is after ten years in operation. There's no point in lamenting about nobody caring enough, and taking things for granted. As my mother used to say "Don't care was made to care."
    

Unfamiliar Lieder

A brief visit to the GP surgery this morning for a blood pressure check. Yet again in the surgery it raises a frown. When I get home, and sit comfortably in an armchair, the readings average out close to the desired norm. Chairs in the surgery have hard surfaces, and without cushion support, pressure on my perineum causes pain. The discomfort leads me to tense my thigh muscles to reduce this. It isn't even the fabled 'white coat syndrome' many people reportedly suffer from in a clinical setting. You'd think the diagnostic process would be attuned to this kind of issue by now. I believe It's only around a century since this was introduced into regular medical practise.

Clare went out early to the University Optometry School that she visits as a glaucoma patient. She volunteers there to be examined by student trainees for a few hours. We met afterwards at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama for lunch and then a recital of two dozen German Lieder sung by a group of a dozen students working with half a dozen accompanists. It was superbly executed, with some remarkable young voices in performance, and challenging accompaniments from masters of the genre, Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, Mendelssohn. Almost all were unfamiliar, but well chosen for their variety and beauty. Several songs were composed by Clara Schumann and by Fanny Mendelssohn. Their works are gaining recognition nowadays, having been attributed to the men in their lives for the past two centuries.

We then walked into the city centre aiming for our habitual tea and cake in John Lewis', but having got up early, for several days in a row, I ran out of the surplus energy needed to inhabit shops, and headed for home on the 61 bus instead, to lie low for the rest of the day. I'm having to avoid pushing myself to exhaustion these days. Open unhealed wounds drain one's energy reserves, like recovering from surgery, so they say. It's the Feast of St Paul's Conversion today, I was too tired to trek over to St Luke's for the evening Mass, and disappointed about that.

    

A Saint for Unity Week

This morning, I had an early phone call from Pidgeon's funeral directors about a funeral at funeral at St John's which Emma isn't free to take on. I then walked down to St John's to celebrate the midweek Eucharist for a dozen people. Thank goodness I am still able to do some useful work. 

It's the feast of St Francois de Sales, the 17th century Bishop of Geneva in exile. This had me reminiscing with the congregation about visiting the basilica of the Visitation in Annecy where he and St Jane de Chantal are buried. His book 'Introduction to the Devout Life' written especially to nurture lay people's spirituality in the everyday world was the first of its kind. As the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity nears its end, a saint whose teaching is appreciated ecumenically these days, and linked with Geneva, birthplace of the World Council of Churches, and neighbouring Haute Savoie is particularly appropriate. 

Sadly, as old wounds of division in the Body of Christ are healing new ones open. I am thinking of schism between Moscow and Kiev Patriarchates, between conservative fundamentalist evangelicals and the liberal mainstream. It's a pity that ecumenism doesn't get the same attention these days as it did when we were young. Nowadays it's being taken too much for granted, and the imperative to 'be reconciled' slips out of focus.

After returning home to cook lunch in time for Clare's arrival from her morning in the kindergarten, I went to Riverside Health Surgery for another dressing change. Later we went into town to browse aimlessly in the shops (on my part at least) and end up with tea in John Lewis'. A rather dull routine really, to punctuate the passage of time between today and operation day, supposedly three weeks from now. 

I can't help wondering if it will be postponed again and what I'll do if this happens. Becket's play 'Waiting for Godot' comes to mind. Or maybe Kafka's 'The Trial'. Three months delay has taken its toll in stress and weight loss. The gentle care and support of GPs and the District Nurse team keeps me from despair at the apparent indifference to suffering of both the hospital management and surgical team.

   

Bingewatch finale

Tuesday passed uneventfully, apart from a visit to the wound clinic, and another couple of episodes of Professor T watched with great interest, as his own back story of suppressed trauma continues to come out in fits and starts, in between working on crimes in his original way.  There's no knowing how it will all end.

Wednesday morning, I celebrated the St Catherine's midweek Eucharist, went for an acupuncture treatment again at the Natural Health Clinic after lunch. It did me a power of good, as I was feeling pretty drained after a few not so good days. In the evening I watched the last two episodes of Professor T - a conclusion, in which the mystery underlying his eccentric behaviour is revealed in full. It's a tragic story which concludes with the death of his mother, after a reconciliation brings closure in his often troubled relationship with her and his senior university colleague. It brings a measure of healing and liberation for him from dark shadows of his unhappy childhood. 

The thirty nine episodes of this movie series, like a thick blockbuster novel, portrays a gifted, highly intelligent, learned man going through a colossal mid-life crisis, involving a nervous breakdown, a spell in prison, his trial for murder - in effect, for involuntary manslaughter, given his state of mind, then reconciliation with those closest to him, recovery, and resumption of his professional life as an acclaimed university criminology teacher. A bit far fetched, and whimsical maybe, but the story's credibility rests on his reputation for uncompromising truth telling, even when it comes to the truth about himself. His profound inner pain is in part due to inability to plumb the depths of his own pain. It's quite a breakthrough when he finds he can entrust himself to a gifted therapist.

On top of a moving deathbed scene, there's a remarkable finale, in which his close colleagues and friends gather in a downpour to lay his mother to rest. A new-to-series-three police colleague has brought her newborn with her to the graveside. The sun comes out, and the baby is passed around for all to admire and cherish, even to Professor T, no longer wearing his OCD signature rubber gloves. He is smiling now in a relaxed way, his normal posture throughout having been a straight face, with the nearest to a smile he can mange more like a charmless grimace. It's a transformation. There's fine acting throughout by Koen de Bouw portraying such an odd character so consistently.

Then, spontaneously the mourners begin to dance slowly by the graveside - a dance of death? No, more a dance of life in the face of mortality. It's a coda to the drama, in the same way that a play or an opera has a festive finale plus maybe an epilogue. There was, in fact, an epilogue, delivered by the Professor in a prior scene where he is concluding his annual course of lectures. It summarises his own self-learning journey from fearing he was once a perpetrator to realising he was an unwitting victim of the violence and lies of others.

Homo sapiens, that strange creature born of evolution is still far from perfect.
So imperfect in fact, that a simple rational observation is impossible.
Whoever you thought did it didn't always do it.
And so it's important that future criminologists such as yourselves, realise that this strange creature must be approached from the heart too
So go out into the world, analyse with your mind, but judge with your heart too.

Recalling that in the story, this goes on in the unconscious mind of a highly successful and learned expert, it's a salutary reminder that great intellects in any age may be driven at least in part by neglected experiences of brokenness in life.

I enjoy crime and spy fiction as their stories address social political and moral concerns of their time and place, giving a context for wrong-doing. Investigations can dig deep in the search to identify the motives of a perpetrator, they can tell the background stories of the investigators, and may show their lives as broken, sacrificed on the altar of solving crime, but rarely do they dig as deeply into their motives as this series does with Professor T in thirty hours of drama. Well worth watching and learning from, I'd say.

A happy move made

After a few difficult days of managing my affliction (it's never the same two days running), I felt good enough to drive, so we took a trip to Bristol to visit Owain and see his new flat in Redfield. It's the first time I've felt comfortable enough to drive for several months, so it did me good. It's the first time, in fact, for us to use the Severn Crossing without having to pay a toll, and about time too!

Owain now lives in another quiet back street of a district he describes as, "About to be gentrified". His place has been modernised nicely, a one bedroom flat on the first floor. In his first couple of weeks he's set up his record decks unpacked his disc archive, bought a bed and other furniture. We took him some bowls, kitchen utensils and towels over with us. He just needs a sofa now, narrow enough to get up the stairs!

We lunched at a small friendly cafe/restaurant with an interesting menu called 'The Faraway Tree' in nearby Church Road, after inspecting the place and taking photos to show to the rest of the family. Then we walked up the road to St George's Park, five minutes away from where Owain lives. This is a generous municipal open space with avenues of mature trees, a lovely lake, a playground and a skateboard park, plus a band of volunteers who help keep the are clean and safe for all to use. 

He's been living in Redfied since he moved to Bristol, and settled there to be fairly close to work, and to mates living in the district. It's got a great variety of old style small shops representing the diverse cultural mix of local residents. I think he chose well. We're both so happy to see him in a place of his own, after a long period of coping with insecurity, looking relaxed, and confident in the choices he's made. You can't live your life through your children, but rejoicing at seeing them living it happily on their own terms gives great peace of mind.

In the evening, more translation work for Clare, more 'Professor T' episodes for me.

Translation update in progress

We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's third morning, but apart from a wound clinic visit after lunch, didn't go out again. This last few days Clare has been preoccupied with translating from the German sections of a new revised and updated edition of the book about the influence on babies of the usage of mobile phones tablets, TV and computers by their parents and others caring for them. It's amazing to think that it's six and a half years since we worked together on publishing an English translation of the original Swiss German version of 2008. 

Technology has developed so rapidly over the past decade, and is now so much more ubiquitous and available on demand anywhere, that risks to child development foreseen at that time have been widely researched and become more an issue of public concern and debate, although not in all quarters. A revised edition is timely to say the least, and now the generic term 'digital devices' has grown in currency, a new English edition should have a snappier title. 

When not exercising, cooking or shopping, I have been working my way through a third series of episodes of Professor T on More Four 'Walter Presents' euro-movie channel. An eccentric, thought provoking, tragi-comic Belgian crimmie, still laced with literary and philosophical quotations, and making effective use of a range of classical and modern music soundtracks, thoughtfully chosen to echo, not only the scene, but underlying dramatic themes. It requires a certain level of concentration not only for reading the subtitles to Flemish/French dialogue, but to keep up with scene switching as two connected stories unfold at the same time. Very sophisticated, well crafted and worth the effort.

Episodes in the first half of series three place the savant criminologist in prison, where he awaits trial for shooting a corrupt policeman. Initially, he is bullied but soon fellow inmates are turning to him for help and advice relating to their own cases. He gets to share a cell with a savant turned serial killer whom he helped put behind bars for life, who bears him no ill-ill, as the man has found a role and a purpose in prison life and an understanding of his murderous past. It's fascinating device, a quirky example perhaps, of the 'wounded healer' redemptive theme.

  

Birthday girl

This morning I felt able to sit comfortably enough to get the 61 bus to Splott to collect the Polo from the garage and drive it back again. It was a pleasure to get out and do this. The window winder and door locking fault seemed something of a mystery to the mechanic who worked on it. They had a spare driver-side winder mechanism from a comparable scrap car, and it worked a treat, activating the central locking system perfectly, instead of acting as it it was a passenger side winder and lock mechanism. Perhaps at some time or another it had been swapped over, but finally broken. Anyway, it's been fixed now, and very kindly at no cost to us.

After stopping at Lidl's to stock up on a few items I missed out on earlier in the week, I went home and cooked a stir fry for lunch. John our plumber came by to see what he could do about the short plastic overflow pipe under the sink which has cracked as if perished in several places. How this occurred in a confined space where it's subjected to no movement stress and not exposed to sunlight is inexplicable.

I walked to Riverside Surgery for another wound dressing this afternoon, while Clare was out at a physical therapy appointment. Both of us require regular maintenance outings to keep us functional these days.

Sister June is eighty four today. I rang to sing her Happy Birthday and we chatted for ages. I think she's in better shape than the Edwardian building she lives in, long ago converted into flats, showing its age, and suffering from a selection of owners or sub tenants who seem indifferent to problems with the property's condition, or everyday safety and security of its occupants. 

I wish she'd move, but she's determined to stay and complain to the property management company about discharging their contractual obligations, wit well informed and detailed emails. Working on drawing up plans for engineers and architects for much of her career means that she has acquired a fair amount of technical expertise about buildings, expertise she still relishes using, since her mind is as sharp as ever. 

Thankfully, she can still get out and walk to the shops, although she's not quite as fit and spritely as she'd like to be since having replacement knees. Wandsworth Common where she lives, is a fairly safe area, but life is made precarious for elderly pedestrians by the presence of cycle riders with whom they are obliged to share the sometimes narrow and uneven pavements. It'll be a long while before public realm areas are reshaped by the local Council to accommodate safely both cyclists and walkers. Meanwhile it's elderly and vulnerable people who have to suffer, and cyclists who get the media attention.

Appointment kept, appointment deferred

I was up and breakfasting at seven this morning, ready for an early taxi ride to the Heath Hospital for an ultrasound cardiogram appointment at twenty to nine. The taxi dropped me off at the Gabalfa interchange and I walked the last half mile into the hospital, and arrived in good time for the scan. Unlike three years ago, it wasn't a cardiologist who did the job but a trained nurse, who would then send the report to the consultant. She didn't have much to say, and didn't comment on her findings. I will have to wait and see if there's a follow up to this procedure.

I walked back home via the big Tescos, where I stopped for a look around and bought a bargain SD card again. I've done this before, and now have three empty 16gb cards in stock, plus a couple of 8gb once that I try to recycle and keep in my wallet. I found on checking that when last I'd been able to sit comfortably to organise my SD archived storage, I'd stopped mid-job. It took me quite a while to figure out what my intentions had been at the time. Now that the Sony HX50 is dead, I decided to decant remaining photo files from a couple of 8gb cards to one 16gb card. When I get around to buying that replacement camera, I'll have a choice of empty new faster cards to use, just right for shooting video. Not that I've done that much, apart from music events. Thinking about that, I still have work to do on sound editing videos from the last Fountain Choir concert in St Catherine's - if I can figure out how to do it!

At lunchtime, we had our annual service visit from Matt, our gas heating engineer. The new system which we had installed last summer works well, and has been busier than usual these past months, as I've been feeling the cold more than usual, perhaps a consequence of losing weight since returning and fending off serious illness for so long. The operation should have been today. The new promised date is a month from today, if the surgical team keeps its promise. All I can do is be philosophical about it, recognise the huge competing demands on NHS time and resources, and live each with as much gratitude as I can muster.  

During my visit to Riverside Surgery for a wound dressing this afternoon, the regular District Nurse was accompanied by a student nursing assistant 'on observation'. It's the second time this week. On Monday it was a woman in her early twenties who'd recently returned from a year's internship in the Scilly Isles. Today it was a bearded young man from Wyoming in his early thirties, who'd come to Europe to work in Disneyland Paris a long time ago, and then decided to train as a nurse in the UK. I am getting to meet some interesting people in the course of treatment.

A crisis of conflicting conviction still unfolding

Last night I watched the BBC Parliament TV channel for the first time in many moons, as it covered the vote on the Government's brexit deal took place. The scale of the defeat seems to have taken the political pundits by surprise. Corbyn tabled a motion of no confidence in the Government and this was debated today. This time the political pundits predicted the motion would fail and it did 52/48% a close run thing like the brexit vote. The country is fairly evenly divided, nobody wants to concede. There's not much likelihood of further changes in the negotiated brexit deal being achieved. It's a very worrying situation. A majority of parliamentarians are opposed to a no-deal brexit. If calls for another General Election continue to fall on deaf ears, arguments for a second referendum continue to gain appeal. But will it happen?

On the BBC Radio Four Thought for the Day this morning, Daniel Greenberg, a Parliamentary legal advisor spoke from his perspective as a practicing Jew about the current political crisis. He observed how despite the polarisation of opinion and passionately held conviction, it was clear to him that Members of Parliament equally desired the country's common good, and that courtesy and respect characterised the ways people treated each other, despite profound disagreement. With these things, he trusted and hoped a way forward, a compromise would ultimately be found. I hope he's right. He also pointed out that while Jewish scripture has many passages in which enemies are hated, derided and spoken evil of, there are also prophetic passages in which this attitude is rebuked. God is greater than all our passionately held opinions. We should never lose sight of that.

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning with a congregation of ten, my first duty of the interregnum. With my condition reasonably stable at the moment, I had enough energy to enjoy resuming a leadership role, and preaching briefly from phrases in the liturgical readings, about the uncertainties attached both to an interregnum and to the brexit process. I enjoyed that. Ann and Paul are off to Geneva for a few days next week and then going by train to Milan for a few more days - the joys of retirement! Ann was picking my brains about places to stay and things to see in Geneva, and when I got back home, I assembled a selection of my masses of Geneva photos, and emailed her a link, to offer an impression of what can easily be seen within a shortish radius of the city centre.

I walked from church to Lidl's in Leckwith to stock up on a few things the store does well, like nuts and cheap soya milk. I mistimed my effort and missed my acupuncture appointment. Fortunately I was able to get another one at five, as Peter had a spare space to fit me in. All that exercise plus an invigorating treatment did me a world of good. I may still be walking wounded but I am decently healthy and fit at the moment. Let's hope it stays like that while I wait the extra month for surgery. 

Different kinds of wires crossed

Clare took the car into the garage this morning, as the same fault affecting the central locking system and electric window on the driver's side has returned to haunt us. It's a puzzle. Something has worked loose or perhaps damp is affecting the wiring loom. It'll take a while to find out so it's just as well we have no need of the

I was surprised to receive a phone call from the Cardiology department at the Heath Hospital after breakfast calling me in for an ultrasound scan. Surprised, as I'd been told in a 'phone call Thursday last that the anaesthetist didn't consider I needed one for my postponed operation to be performed. I asked if there were crossed wires again in hospital communications and was reassured the initiative arose as a result of the pre-op, as one of the heart consultants reading the report noticed that I was overdue for a heart check-up.

My GP referred me for this after I complained of palpitations, which turned out to have been triggered by drinking too much coffee, or perhaps something digestion related at that time. The cardiologist at that time gave me a clean bill of health, stating that my heart condition was normal and healthy for my age. He said he'd I'd get another check in two years, and that was that. But when did it happen? I couldn't remember, so checked back through old blog entries, only to discover that it's three years since my first scan. 

How time flies! Has the checkup system been slow in catching up with me? Or did the cardiologist say two years when he meant three? It's a mystery, but now is as good a time as any for a follow up check, so I have an appointment booked for Thursday at eight forty. It's early to be out and about as I'm usually needing a change of wound dressing around breakfast time, but we'll figure out how to manage this. As the car's unlikely to be returned before then, and buses to and from the Heath in heavy traffic are unreliable. I have walked the distance in about forty minutes, but the weather may not be in my favour, so I'll need a taxi to get there.  At least I won't have to wait long so early in the day, and the scan only takes twenty minutes. Here's hoping.

Finally, a letter giving me a date for surgery on Valentine's Day, a month from now. Here's hoping there'll not be another cancellation. I don't know how I'd cope. Diagnosed as needing surgery on 18th October, it's taken three months to get this far, and four to the op - for minor surgery they call it?

  

A church farewell, photos and memories

A quiet Saturday came and went, marked only by another walk into town, as far as Canton Bridge. We stopped at Pettigrew's Tea Room in Bute Park Gatehouse for tea and cake before walking home. For the first time, we went to a table upstairs, where I discovered the walls were line with paintings by Kevin Strong, the husband of Julie, the CBS administrator. Many of his paintings are of places we know well, in and around Cardiff, beautifully done, but he also paints Tenby and Newquay Cornwall,  a gifted artist whose affection for familiar scenes is evident in the way he portrays them.

This morning, we walked to St Luke's church for the United Benefice Eucharist, it was Fr Mark's farewell celebration with the Benefice he has served for the past twenty years, overseeing the union of three Parishes into one. It was one of those occasions when we ran out of hymn books and every seat was taken, about two hundred people present in all. The two most recent Saint Padarn students placed in the Parish for the in situ element of their pastoral training, Fr Dominic and Fr Dylan, both now deacons in St Asaph diocese, assisted at the altar along with Team Vicar Emma. St Catherine's choir, augmented by members of the Elizabeth singers (Fr Mark's daughter's choir) led and enriched the singing of the liturgy with anthems and additional hymns. 

Fr Mark presided and preached with his characteristic warmth and gentle humour. It was lovely to hear him speak thoughtfully on all that his ministry entailed during his time here. He said something which struck me about ministry which I'd not thought of before. "However settled a priest may be in any job, clergy by nature of the vocation have no fixed abode." Yes, this was true in my experience of forty years of work, and although having a permanent home now in Pontcanna, it's still true of much of the work I continue to do as a voluntary priest. Churchwarden Hilary made a presentation and gave a concise and thoughtful speech at the end of the service, summing up aspects of Fr Mark's ministry most valued by fellow church officers. I'd like to believe that both of them spoke in a way that would give much food for thought to many rank and file members and newcomers.

I took my old Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX5 along with me and got consent to take photographs throughout the service. It's not something I'd want to do often. It's as active a part to play as is assisting in leading worship. You can join in all the prayers while your attention engaged with the visual aspect of the liturgy as well as its familiar words. It's important position yourself quietly without getting in anyone's way or disturbing anyone. You don't interact with anyone as you move about. Being unobtrusive requires some concentration, and not worrying about what people think! 

Back in 1980 when St Agnes hosted a televised Sunday Mass in the aftermath of the St Paul's riots, a TV cameramen asked if could receive Communion during the service, as this he would have been doing if he hadn't been working on a Sunday. When and how, at the beginning of the procession of communicants or the end? I asked him. He couldn't, however leave his post, as the broadcast director might call on his camera for a shot just then. So, just as one would take Communion to someone immobilised in their seat, I went to the camera and gave him Communion. Simple. He said that for him being on duty at a service was a matter of worship mostly with the eyes, doing what he did best. It made sense to me. I didn't forget this, and thought him as I did my best with a camera.

I bought the LX5 in the John Lewis January sale in 2014. Already two years on the market, it was a quarter of its list price and quite a sophisticated camera for its day, albeit a little old fashioned in its design, with a physical lens cap. It's slightly bulkier than a pocket camera, so I haven't used it as much as my succession of longer pocket zoom cameras. Its wide field of view has been useful for town-scapes and I've taken over four hundred photos of the Cardiff Central Square redevelopment project with it, out of about three thousand. I'm using it more, now that my trusty Sony HX50 is dead. It produces sharp photos in many setting even if it's less responsive than a more modern camera. I've thought about buying one of the recent Panasonic travel cameras, which have the same build quality, but the Sony range still has the edge in terms of pocketable size and weight.

St Luke's church hall was arranged with tables for a Parish Lunch after the service, and I popped in to greet someone I'd noticed at the surface but not seen in the crowd afterwards, but we had decided not to stay for the meal, being unsure how long I'd be able to sit it out. Clare got chilled due to the lack of heating during the service, and left immediately to get home and warm up. I went home by way of St David's hospital where I had a nurse appointment. Later, Clare went off to her monthly study group in Bristol, and I busied myself editing and uploading fifty odd photos from the service, some of which were quite pleasing, though not all. The trouble with more up to date cameras is that you soon get used to their improved performance, even in small ways, and see photo quality differences you were hardly aware of a few years ago.

I had an email this evening for someone called Brendan Skelton, who seems to be engaged in a St Paul's area local history project relating to the Festival, My predecessor Fr Roy Blake was one of its founders, and I took part in some of the planning committee work, though it wasn't as big a priority for me as my involvement with black led churches and inter-faith inclusion activity. His questions set me off thinking about those days for the first time in decades. The process of remembering is a bit like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. But first, you must look at the picture, if you can find one, to see the whole scene.

I think there are some slides from a 1980s Festival, but I haven't dug these out of storage yet, let alone digitized them to review, so I really had to work my memory hard to produce a reasonable response. It made me realise how much I rely on eighteen years worth of digital photos to prompt recollection of times and places past. Before the millennium, there are photo albums, but these are far from being comprehensive, as there were years when the pursuit of photographic interest apart from family snaps was unaffordable. Nowadays the challenge is to update and organise my ever growing archive of digital images, before they become as jumbled as the space in my head filled with three quarters of a lifetime's memories.

Movie night with friends

A routine visit to check in with my GP this morning, and tell the tale of the past few days. He had a couple of very young looking medical students on placement with him. I said how, despite all that's happened, the nursing care I've been receiving has led to a improvement in my overall condition. Also with the medication change, my blood pressure average readings resemble much more what he is happy with, after a long spell of being elevated worryingly. Nursing care or pills? Both, I reckon. Then back to the Riverside Health Surgery in the afternoon for a dressing change - every other day, now things seem to be a bit steadier.

We went to Chapter Arts Centre to see a movie this evening 'The Favourite'. Described as a black comedy in the ethos of the Restoration period, relating the story of eccentric Queen Anne and her women lovers. It was superbly filmed period costume drama with brilliant acting and direction, no doubt destined for high filmic honours. The script was coarse, witty, sometimes funny, but I found it lacked any content to uplift or inspire me. There's nothing new to learn about being from the details of decadent lives notable for unabated vicious intrigue that I feel I need to know. Royal voyeurism as entertainment? We stoop so low. Are we so bored with ordinary decent lives? It's not for me. A wasted evening, as far as I'm concerned.

We met choir friends Claus and Anna on our way into the movie theatre. We sat together, then after the show, invited them back home for 'Abendbrot' - bread cheese pickle and salad washed down with a bottle of Pflazer Spätburgunder from Lidl's - a favourite light red for all four of us. Anna told us of her programming plans for the next concert series. Unusual music, promising to be challenging and fun to sing. I hope I shall be able to rejoin rehearsals this time around. It would be a real tonic.

   

Chaos over, a dead camera and more waiting ahead

I slumbered fitfully, propped up on pillows for fear of waking up covered in blood out of a snatch of deep sleep, and stayed in bed dozing tiredly until late. At ten, Debbie phoned to say she'd had no success getting a response from the surgeon's secretary, yesterday or this morning, but she expressed determination to get answers using all skill and clout as practice manager.

In the afternoon, Clare and I walked into town and had tea in John Lewis' upper restaurant. On the way, down the Taff footpath, we caught sight of a heron on the east bank, and then a jay, taking off and flying across from west to east. It the first sighting of either this year. I got two heron photos at maximum zoom range, but the Sony HX50 is now malfunctioning so often due to a mechanical fault when opening up, that it's become too unreliable for used. That's after five years of use and ten thousand photos.

I called into Cardiff Camera Centre where all but one of my cameras have been purchased and confirmed my suspicion that it's beyond economical repair after a longer than usual lifespan for a consumer pocket camera, very well travelled. I'm now looking at getting a HX90 to replace it with, when I get back to my usual level of regular photo snapping. It's something to look forward to. The HX90 is a bit more sophisticated, even smaller and just as capable. Better still, factory refurbished cameras with full Sony guarantee are available at 27% discount, when I'm ready to buy.

As we travelled home on the 61 bus, a call came through on my mobile from an administrator at UHW, who to had been given the thankless task of calling my to explain and apologise for the past day's chaos. It seems I was misled about the requirement to have another ultrasound scan. The good news is that the anaesthetist who'd read the pre-op report is apparently satisfied that I'm fit to be sedated so all's well on that front.

The bad news, however, is that the day's surgical schedule for 17th Jan has been cancelled altogether, heaven knows why but that's how it is. I have to wait for another five weeks until St Valentine's Day to have this dealt with.

Well, it's a relief to know I'm not lost to the medical system, and tough to have to wait even longer, for Clare as much as me, but there's nothing that can be done. And for the moment, I am in a stable enough state with regular life simply on hold.

A small parcel arrived for me in the post from Kath. I'd asked her to find me a novel in Spanish that was short enough for me to try reading and not losing heart, with so many dictionary calls needed to clarify the narrative, when getting the general drift isn't enough. Good practice! She bought the book before leaving Tenerife on Tuesday, and says its un regalo, love her. It's Crónica de una muerte anunciada (Chronicle of a death foretold) by the Colombian Nobel Prize winning author Gabriel García Márquez. It's in Latin American Spanish rather than Castilian, but as DuoLingo is more Latin American oriented at intermediate level, it's not as foreign as a novel in Valenciano or in Catalan might be. It's something to keep my mind active while I'm on hold, it will do me good.

Last night we watched Steven Spielberg's move masterpiece 'Bridge of Spies' about the negotiated swap of U2 pilot Gary Powers for Soviet agent Rudolf Abel in 1960, something I remember well from my teen years when I was fascinated by state of the art aviation technology and knew a little more about the hush-hush U2 spy plane's existence. Abel is portrayed as a placid stoical guy, who when asked if he was worried about the prospect of capital punishment or a life sentence would simply reply: "Do you think worrying would make any difference?" It's a great line, an attitude to aspire towards.

The thought of being forgotten, lost to the system was a terrible blow yesterday, but worrying achieved nothing. I have to get used to waiting without worrying, and trust in the amazing care I am getting already. After all, it could be so much worse.

 

When things fall apart

Today is six days since my pre-op assessment visit to UHW Heath hospital. Still no news of an ultrasound heart scan, so I thought I would ring the colorectal surgeon's secretary and enquire about progress, as this was said to be a precondition of the operation taking place, and I had been advised to enquire in this way.

The person answering the phone wasn't the one whose name I had been given. I was told she had only started work on Monday as the previous secretary had changed jobs, and as a newbie was not yet familiar with all the details of the work in progress. Nothing on my case file referred to the required scan, I was told, also my name was not on the schedule for operation on 17th January. She said she would have to enquire further and get back to me. Somehow the account of my pre op assessment seemed to have vanished without trace and my case unexpectedly cast into limbo.

My heart sank, and it's just as well that wound pain and discomfort was minimal. The impact of this brief conversation caused me to feel as if I had been physically assaulted. Clare was shocked and equally bewildered, but what do do?

Well, I went to the midweek Eucharist at St Catherine's, needy for the normality of routine prayer and worship, and traditional memorised words. I wasn't expecting God to magic a way through this bureaucratic nightmare, I wanted consciously to let myself be carried to wherever this situation is meant to take me.

From there, I walked to the wound clinic for a dressing and inspection appointment. Nurse Emma was there, the first to see my sorry state on Boxing Day, and on two subsequent days. She expressed satisfaction at the way it had improved under the right care. At least the deterioration has reduced in the past fortnight. The wound condition, although undesirable and unhealed, is stable for now. One less thing to fret about. I think the two nurses present were also shocked at the news, but I suspect not that surprised. It's all part of the NHS running battle to juggle resources against demand.

On the way back, I called in to our GP surgery in the hope of having a brief word with a doctor at the end of morning appointments, to flag up the problem. Instead of a doctor, after a half hour wait, Debbie the practice manager came and spoke with me in a by now, empty waiting room. I think she recognised that I wasn't my usual self, and asked what was the matter. She was astonished when I told her what I'd learned. Having gathered relevant detail and checking this against the hospital's  intranet, she promised to get on the case and report back as soon as possible.

After an unsettled evening in front of the telly, I had a nosebleed as I was getting ready for bed, the first since September. What a crazy unsettling day!

  

Domestic and digital chores

We went to the Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's yesterday morning. It was Fr Mark's last appearance there on a Sunday, as next Sunday there's a united Benefice farewell service at St Luke's, then he'll be moving house. At the end of the service the children and parents from Sunday Club came into church, all bubbly, over twenty kids from toddlers to junior school age. They presented him with a big pot plant, decorated with messages wishing him well - a delightful moment.

Kath and Anto have been sending us a series of photos of WhatsApp, taken at last night's fiesta de los Reyes in Tenerife, where they're having a well deserved respite from work. Meanwhile Owain is discovering all the minutiae involved in setting up home from scratch in his new flat. It's not yet in sufficient order for him to be willing to send us photos, but we look forward to that, as it may be a while before we can travel over to visit his new abode.

I had to get up quite often in the night, although I quickly fell asleep in between time, but maybe my sleep snatches weren't long enough to really refresh me despite nine hours in bed. After I got up, had breakfast and said morning prayer, I dozed off again for an hour. I felt I could have slept for longer, but had another visit to Riverside Health surgery for a wound inspection and dressing arranged for this afternoon. I felt better for walking there in the fresh air, and wasn't lacking in physical energy. It could be that my body is making up for months of continued stress and uncertainty. The wound is now stable and for the moment not deteriorating further, thanks to the Christmas gift of nursing care in situ. Each day this is the case, I'm most grateful for.

After the surgery visit I did the week's shopping before returning home, glad to be out and about. Clare has got used to having a Linux driven computer over the past month or so, but having an old style hard drive, although still quicker than a modern windows machine, I felt it could benefit more from having solid state drive instead. She had complained about the cramped keyboard layout on the Acer I'd replaced her HP machine with. Having already tried and tested the HP running Linux from a solid state hard drive, the easiest solution would be to return all her data to her user area and let her continue to use a device her fingers are more used to. That took about half an hour, copying to and from an external drive.

Then, I fitted another solid state hard drive into the Acer, installed Linux Mint and updated it in about half an hour. It's the second five year old laptop in the house that's running faster than either of the two Windows 10 machines half their age. I'll have to decide what I'm going to use this machine for, and if I really want to bother to install Mint to dual boot on the remaining Windows laptop, now that I've got a secure device I have confidence in, to use for tax and e-banking. Having said that the most used device with a proper keyboard remains the Chromebook on which I'm writing now. While it has some limitations, it's still the lightest and fastest computer I have. How I'd love to have a full Linux version running on this! But that's too big an ask at the moment. Glad finally to have had the energy to compete this digital chore today, good for the morale!

Purchase pondered

I hadn't arranged any weekend appointments, but had an unexpected visit from another member of the District Nurse team this morning. I learned that the team are treating a notable number of people with fistula wounds at the moment. I wonder why? I had a restful night, woke up refreshed, and have had little pain or discomfort again today, and that's great, even if it's not going to improve until I've had the operation. It's nice to know they are on my case.

We walked into town late in the afternoon, and looked at dishwashers in John Lewis' store, as we're thinking about buying a new one. Ours is sixteen years old, and its internal fitments are wearing out with age. We may still be able to get replacements for a long discontinued model, but we've no idea how long the heater or pump will last, even if we're successful. The maintenance people advise us to get a new one. It's something to think about while there are special offers in the New Year sales.

While we were there, I had a quick look at the tech' sale offers on pocketable superzoom cameras, as over the last month my Sony HX50 has begun to malfunction at startup time, requiring several tries switching on and off to work properly. I think there may be particles preventing the lens mechanism from opening cleanly and then generating an electronic malfunction. On odd occasional last year the images produced contained minor blemishes intermittently over a periods of time, symptomatic of dust penetrating internally. Nothing I suspect a good clean wouldn't cure, if I could do it. The cost of an expert repair could well be half the cost of a new camera.

I bought this February 2014, to take with me on duty to Fuengirola. I think I've taken around ten thousand photos with it since then. (Must check my archives!) I could buy a replacement at perhaps half the price I paid then, but the temptation is to buy the upgraded improved version - the HX95 - for much the same original price. Well, maybe. Let's see if what I can do about a cleanup first.

This evening, there was nothing much on telly that interested me or Clare, so I watched two episodes of Dr Who on BBC iPlayer catch-up instead. Interesting to note the high moral tone taken by the Doctor, interacting with all kinds of fearsomely dangerous alien life forms, even if the plots are mostly bizarre gobbledegook.
  

A landmark day

No two days are the same at the moment. Although I slept well, and wasn't much bothered by pain or discomfort, I felt very tired, though not weak. I walked to the GP surgery for an appointment, and when I got back, I returned to bed and dozed until lunchtime. Then I walked down to the Riverside Health Surgery for a wound dressing where I met another of the District Nurse team. I learned today that the team is twenty strong and covers a large area of central Cardiff. I think I've met six of them over the past nine days.

I discussed this tiredness with the nurse, and she said it was to be expected after yesterday's outing to UHW for the pre-op assessment. It's a matter of allowing for extra down-time to recover in between bouts of activity of ny kind, while the body copes with an open wound. OK, fair enough I suppose. I'm just not used to this! Thankfully, by mid afternoon, the tiredness wore off, and I enjoyed another half hour's walking when I went to collect a new prescription from the pharmacy.

Owain takes possession of the keys of his new flat today. A friend has helped him set up by taking him to IKEA to buy a new items of furniture, as he has none of his own. He'll be moving in all his goods and chattels over the weekend. We're so pleased for him, as the misfortunes of his work life have left him unsettled for the best part of a decade. He's not alone in this, given the state of the world wished upon us by our economic overlords in this new century.

Medical meetings

Yesterday morning, I walked to the GP surgery for a blood test, then to Riverside Health Surgery for a dressing change. The nurse recognised my name as the former Vicar of St John's City Parish Church, and quickly I realised I knew her mother, from midweek Communions at St John's Canton, and her daughter who was a leading young member of St John Ambulance when I was there. A remarkably brave and resilient teenager who caught meningitis, had both legs amputated and needed a kidney transplant to save her life, she's now married with a child and living a full and active life out in New Zealand. It was one of those delightful unexpected encounters enlivening my otherwise limited life at the moment.

In the afternoon, I had an acupuncture appointment, my first in more than three years. Unfortunately my previous acupuncturist stopped work, and it's only lately that I have felt the need to find another. Clare found the name of Peter Butcher, practitioner at the Natural Health Clinic in Cathedral Road. I wrote to him yesterday evening, outlined my circumstances and explained that I understood how I might benefit from a few treatments to counteract the impact of successive painful shocks to the system from this ailment, and was pleased to receive a response this morning.

I had an hour and a half session with Peter, some good conversation and a treatment which certainly put the spring back in my step and cleared my head of the sensation of being mildly stunned, which seems to come and go with pain and shock. A really good ChiGung workout achieves the same for me, but what I can do is a bit limited at the moment, and I was confident a treatment would boost my Chi energy levels, and it helps ward off infection. I don't know how this works, only that it does work and that's what counts. A couple more sessions are planned before the operation takes place.

All in all, this meant that I had a pretty good day, two days in a row, with little pain or discomfort. Gratefully received.

This morning, however, despite a good night's sleep, I had a setback, with some acute wound pain. It didn't escalate into another attach of inflamed vagus nerve, which makes a change. While I was dealing with this I had a phone call from UHW surgical pre-op unit to book an appointment for an information session - this is about me giving them information on my medical history and present state of health, to assess my readiness for the operation. Apparently every medical department you visit for treatment takes a full medical history and none of this record is shared with other units. I suppose they have their reasons for this, but to me it seems antiquated and unnecessary. As there was an afternoon slot available we agreed to take it although I was still in pain and finding it hard to sit.

Clare drove me to the Heath Hospital, where I was interrogated for over and hour, and had another blood test, plus an ECG. Information is needed for the anaesthetist's risk assessment before the operation can take place. It seems I may also be required to have an ultrasound scan of my heart, as it's two years since I last had one. I wait to hear when.

By the time this process was concluded, the pain had subsided and I was able to sit down again with much less discomfort. The rest of the day was much the same as the two previous ones.

A positive New Year start

I woke up from a comfortable night's sleep, apart from needing to change pyjamas soaked with sweat again at about four. If got used to sleeping in short bouts, and rarely dream or lie awake, unless there's something on my mind. But then I use the wakeful time to pray, with as few words as possible. Nights only seem long if there's worry pain or discomfort, and despite my condition, that's not often, thankfully. 

After a lateish breakfast, Clare and I walked to St. Luke's for the Mass of the day. It's the Feast of the Naming and Circumcision of Christ, but also, traditionally Covenant Day for Methodist folk. When people gather to renew the faith commitment called for by discipleship to Christ. As part of an Ecumenical Parish setup in St Paul's Bristol which involved a Methodist Church, I participated in annual Covenant services and love the prayer at the heart of the occasion.

I am no longer my own but yours.

Put me to what you will,

rank me with whom you will;

put me to doing, put me to suffering,

let me be employed for you or laid aside for you,

exalted for you or brought low for you.

Let me be full, let me be empty,

let me have all things, let me have nothing.

I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things

to your pleasure and disposal.

And now, glorious and blessed God,

Father, Son and Holy Spirit,

you are mine and I am yours.

So be it. And may the covenant made on earth 

be ratified in heaven. 

Amen.

Given the uncertainties of Brexit and equally unpredictable weather, and my own health, wondering what will 2019 bring, the notion of re-iterating the Covenant Prayer quietly at Mass appealed to me. I felt I really wanted to make the effort to attend, and was glad that it took less effort than anticipated, as I felt better, and less troubled by my affliction.

There were eight of us present plus Emma, now in charge of the Parish as Mark is off duty, packing for his house move. We chatted afterwards for a while, then I strolled slowly along an almost traffic free main road to the treatment room at St David's medical centre. Here I met another of the District Nurse team, who inspected my wounds and changed the dressing. The new plasters continue to help reduce the swelling and dry out the lesions noticeably, which explains why I am feeling generally better than I have for quite a while. 

For me this is a positive start to the New Year. I couldn't hope for more while I await the operation.