This morning, I attended the Eucharist at St Catherine's, and talked about Sunday's Eucharist, when I am standing in for Mthr Frances while she spends time with the Sunday School, and then comes in with them for a blessing at the Communion. I suggested that we bless them together.
The Parish doesn't need me to cover any services at Christmas, so I offered the Area Dean to cover services in Grangetown. He needs someone for the Christmas Vigil Mass at St Dyfrig and St Samson at 7.00pm, and that's the only service they are offering. This suits me fine, as it means we can leave after Mass immediately for Kenilworth, and have the day itself free for feasting with the family. Clare has booked us in for three nights at the Holiday Inn hotel, five minutes walk from the house. We did this two years ago, and it worked well for us.
In the evening I arranged to make a bereavement visit at the far end of the parish. It rained heavily throughout the twenty minute walk, soaking my rain clothes almost to the limit. Fortunately they dried out while I was there and the rain stopped for the walk home.
The Parish doesn't need me to cover any services at Christmas, so I offered the Area Dean to cover services in Grangetown. He needs someone for the Christmas Vigil Mass at St Dyfrig and St Samson at 7.00pm, and that's the only service they are offering. This suits me fine, as it means we can leave after Mass immediately for Kenilworth, and have the day itself free for feasting with the family. Clare has booked us in for three nights at the Holiday Inn hotel, five minutes walk from the house. We did this two years ago, and it worked well for us.
In the evening I arranged to make a bereavement visit at the far end of the parish. It rained heavily throughout the twenty minute walk, soaking my rain clothes almost to the limit. Fortunately they dried out while I was there and the rain stopped for the walk home.
Before going to bed early, I looked through my file of poetry dating back to student days for some pieces of writing I vaguely recall doing thirty years ago following the St Paul's riots. I was looking for material to stimulate thoughts for another short story to go with the other two already written about the night of the riots. I found an untitled piece of two foolscap sheets containing a few thin recollections of observations and encounters on that night, and transcribed it into a digital file.
The flawed and fading typescript would probably have digitised fine and then need time correcting it. I entered the text manually instead, making corrections as I went along, as there were mistakes and half formed phrases which didn't read well. I've become more critical of what I write nowadays. I was quite surprised it was more poetic and impressionistic than narrative in style. Did I improve it? I also found a scrappy handwritten version in an exercise book, so I guess the typescript was an unfinished work in progress, like so many of my earlier literary efforts.
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