The temperature dropped a few degrees and there was wind and rain overnight and through the day into the afternoon. It was overcast and felt just the way it did a month ago. A day without cheer save for calls from Clare and Owain. There was a certain irony in seeing Clare in a summer blouse under a cloudless blue sky in our Pontcanna back garden. She told me that a local organisation is trying to organise a local sewing bee to make PPE gowns for NHS staff.
She still has an old Singer sewing machine in good working order, and has volunteered, though she suspects good intentions may yet founder on poor planning and organisation. Whoever is trying to run the scheme asks volunteers how many gowns they think they can make in a day, without stating where the start line is. Are the workers to be given a pattern and material, or ready cut parts to sew together, or what? It seems typical of the situation we find ourselves in.
It reflects the crisis management chaos exhibited by UK government leaders at the moment. Those in charge are lacking volumes of practical experience at juggling all the necessary demands of an overwhelming situation. They can tell you what they've done, but on times fail to join the dots, and must suffer the humiliation of being reminded of this by news media which seem to have more information at their disposal. Maybe the media could do better by making sure to pester relevant officials on the job, not on-air to entertain (or agitate) listeners.
Jayne brought me my week's grocery order, plus a month's supply of my main blood pressure pills. I emailed our GP surgery yesterday to get the name of an equivalent to the standard diuretic pill I'm also supposed to take, but the email didn't arrive until after Jayne had been, so unfortunately that's another thing that can't yet be crossed off the 'to-do' list. If things were normal I could get some posted from home, but there are no guarantees they would arrive. I'm OK now until the beginning of June. There's no way of knowing if I'll be able to get home by then, there's such uncertaintly.
One good thing is that Jayne bought me a mascarilla, which I can wear if I need to go to a shop or the Pharmacy to collect something. I felt very awkward going into places without one, and earlier none were available, so I thought it prudent to simply avoid going up to 'Es Cuco', as I did before. Maybe I am a bit over sensitive, but I don't want to be a source of bother for anyone, and need to protect myself from the possibility of being a bother to others, even though the risk on Ibiza is very low compared to elsewhere. Clare has ordered me a new innovative anti-viral material protective hood cum mask to wear when I do eventually travel. The next question is whether it can fit into an envelope for sending in a posted letter, as any kind of parcel post is off-limits at present.
Despite the weather, I walked my 10k, but there was nothing noticeably new to take a photo of and send to Kath today. If it warms up again tomorrow, however, there might be some new flowers to notice, and lots more snails of different sizes. I did notice that the injured snail I saw being attacked by ants two days ago has entirely disappeared. Not just dead, but re-cycled without a trace. Whether by ants or some other nocturnal creature, I have no idea.
This evening I listened to a Low Sunday service broadcast on-line by Radio Suisse Romande from the Temple de Rolle on Lake Geneva. The link was sent to me by my friend Valdo in Aigle at the other end of the lake. It was a Swiss French Protestant service with some Bach organ and violin pieces and several Easter canticles sung by a local Russian Orthodox Choir - Low Sunday was their Easter Day. If that went outlive, the choir must have been tired as the Russian Orthodox keep Vigil throughout the night on Holy Saturday!
Special and well worth a listen was the address and meditations by Pasteure Isabelle Court. I was able to follow nearly all of it (except when she got really passionate and picked up speed), since her romandie French was beautifully clear, at a measured pace. My Spanish listening comprehension is not nearly as good as my French, but then I lived and worked in a francphone environment for nine years. So glad I haven't lost the ability to understand spoken Swiss French. French spoken in France is another matter altogether!
The meditations were an imaginative journey taken with Doubting Thomas's twin sister (he was after all Thomas Didymus - Thomas the Twin), from the day of the resurrection to the day when Thomas was reunited with the Lord again. Her theological and spiritual reflections made use of the typology devised by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross to describe the five stages of grief. Ir was remarkable and relevant to here and now with the pandemic loss of life, and most people's loss of freedom due to lock-down. Plenty to ponder on. You can find it here.
This evening I listened to a Low Sunday service broadcast on-line by Radio Suisse Romande from the Temple de Rolle on Lake Geneva. The link was sent to me by my friend Valdo in Aigle at the other end of the lake. It was a Swiss French Protestant service with some Bach organ and violin pieces and several Easter canticles sung by a local Russian Orthodox Choir - Low Sunday was their Easter Day. If that went outlive, the choir must have been tired as the Russian Orthodox keep Vigil throughout the night on Holy Saturday!
Special and well worth a listen was the address and meditations by Pasteure Isabelle Court. I was able to follow nearly all of it (except when she got really passionate and picked up speed), since her romandie French was beautifully clear, at a measured pace. My Spanish listening comprehension is not nearly as good as my French, but then I lived and worked in a francphone environment for nine years. So glad I haven't lost the ability to understand spoken Swiss French. French spoken in France is another matter altogether!
The meditations were an imaginative journey taken with Doubting Thomas's twin sister (he was after all Thomas Didymus - Thomas the Twin), from the day of the resurrection to the day when Thomas was reunited with the Lord again. Her theological and spiritual reflections made use of the typology devised by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross to describe the five stages of grief. Ir was remarkable and relevant to here and now with the pandemic loss of life, and most people's loss of freedom due to lock-down. Plenty to ponder on. You can find it here.
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