Butterfingers

Thank heavens the strong winds of the past few days have subsided and the rain has gone away for the moment! All we need now is summer warmth to return. Today the five mile travel restriction advised by the Welsh government is lifted, but we didn't get around to going anywhere.

I walked to and from the city centre again this afternoon, and was pleased to find that my favourite camera shop is open for busness. I needed to enquire about the possibility and cost of repairing my long zoom Sony HX300 as it's been giving me the same ominous fault message which I had on my old HX50 before it died. The internal mechanism driving the barrel of the zoom lens either gets worn or dirty so that auto-focus or exposure electronic sensors cannot function properly. It may be possible to fix, but maybe not. I can take the camera in for examination next time I'm passing, and the hope for the best. 

It was a perverse coincidence that later, when I was taking my HX90 from its bag to take a photo of the closed road at the Kingsway end of the Castle I dropped the camera. The compartment housing the SD card and battery burst open and shed its contents. It still works, but opens and closes with a scrunchy noise now, so how long it will last is anybody guess. Last week I dropped my Blackberry and chipped its outer casing. I've noticed that handling smooth objects has become tricky recently. Lots of precautionary hand-washing is making my finger tips smoother and drier, affecting grip and touch.

Interesting to see many younger people, sitting in groups on the grass outside the Castle inside their individual whitewashed circles, also without benefit of circles, in groups across Cooper's Field and other open spaces in Bute Park. For a while the snack bar near the bridge from the park to the bus station was serving soft drinks and ice cream to passers by from outdoor tables. That, I guess is as much 'take-away' refreshments as they can manage with the kitchen still closed. 

Blackweir Bridge is still closed as it is deemed too narrow for two way traffic, so you have to walk up to the Western Avenue crossing, adding a mile to your journey if you are entering Bute Park from the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. I wonder if we'll get a second crossing at Blackweir? A temporary bridge would make a good training project for a Welsh Army engineers' unit to tackle.

This evening, at my sister June's recommendation I watched the first of three music travelogues by Huey Morgan on Latin American music in its social context. The first was about Brazil. I watched it on iPlayer, aware that the second was on later in the evening, but I got distracted by the discovery of series two of 'Non Uccidere', the Italian crimmie set in and around Torino and focusing on crime in the family. There's plenty of time to catch up on Huey's second programme tomorrow.

Suddenly, insidiously I'm reverting to the old habit of watching too much telly, when I could be doing other things. For the moment, I have a bad back as an excuse for such passivity. Lounging is a lot less uncomfortable than sitting down to write for any length of time. This afternoon I wrote to Mrs Cornish the surgeon to say that I am still alive, and inform her about what has happened in the seven months since last I was last examined, and expressing the hope that my name remains in the long queue for minor surgery. I'm not expecting a response under present circumstances, but I am determined not to be lost in the medical admin system again.