Staycation round two day five

As it has been since self-quarantine began, the day began overcast with torrential rain. Clare cooked our Saturday breakfast pancakes garnished with crab apple puree, chocolate sauce, and mashed banana. A great remedy for a dark autumnal day. At the end of the morning the cloud thinned enough for sunlight to penetrate and lighten up the garden, then the cloud cleared entirely, and unexpectedly given weather warnings for very heavy rain over the weekend. Would that the pandemic could throw us the occasional surprise! The growth of covid-19 infections shows no sign of slackening and projections for the rest of the year are gloomier and gloomier. We can expect heavier and more widespread restrictions next week.

Since I've been confined to exercising inside the house unable to use the garden due to the weather, I've shifted from listening to 'talk' Radio Four over to Radio Three, with its rich diet of classical music and other kinds of modern music. plus record reviews and conversations with musicians and scholars. It greatly lightens the daily monotony attached to pacing indoors, and often awakens memories of music listened over the past seven decades. 

I prefer silence when I write. Listening to music or conversation is too distracting. Outdoors in the street and the park I don't listen to music, but my surroundings, and only occasionally listen to radio news. Walking around the garden in Ibiza daily however, I did listen to lots of jazz and Latin music albums sent me by Kath and Owain. It was a lovely consolation, living in isolation, confined to the chaplaincy house for weeks, I felt close to them and to my roots.

Trying to sit and write for any length of time when the wound is uncomfortable or painful, also robs me of concentration. These days my legs and back are strong enough to allow me to stand instead, but short of finding a stand-up computer desk to buy I've settled for temporary, unsatisfactory solutions so far. 

This morning, however, I realised that a small bedroom chest of drawers is just the right height, and moved it into my study, into a position where light from the window is just right. It may look messy and cluttered, but I can live with that. It's my 'man-cave', and the amount of stuff in it offends Clare's sense of order. I need my works-pace to work for me and satisfy my current needs. As I write, it works well. Hopefully it's not going to be a long term solution.

I watched the final episode of 'The Same Sky' this afternoon. It had a surprising twist in the last few minutes adding to the portrayal of life's complexity in a city divided, by the partition of Germany at the end of the war and then compounded by the Berlin Wall during the Cold War. 

A recorded broadcast of Puccini's operal 'Tosca' from Covent Garden started on Radio Three at supper time, one of the operas I know best. Starring Bryn Terfel as Scarpia, Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca, and Jonas Kauffman as Calvaradossi. Such emotionally powerful music, wonderful to listen to. It brought tears to my eyes. Just as it finished the latest double episode of Danish crime drama 'DNA' started on BBC Four, which I watched on iPlayer. It's interestingly complex.

There was an interesting programme on Radio Three this afternoon about the environmental impact of music making. Someone has studied the carbon footprint of cloud music, video services and the record industry. It was quite disturbing to realise the extent to which the world going digital is contributing to climate change. Looking back on my media usage for today, I admit to feeling rather guilty. I could do without the car, go abroad without flying, but whether in lock-down or out of it, not have internet access altogether would reduce my quality of life immensely. What are we doing to ourselves?

Staycation round two, day four

Another dark day, more low cloud and rain, no going out into the garden. Unusually, I had a disturbed night with wound pain. I woke up feeling as if I'd been in a fight. Breakfast and indoor exercise got me going again, fortunately.

I had a lovely exchange of emails with Emma locums officer for the diocese in Europe this afternoon. It's nice to keep in touch. She's mostly working from home, but recently back one day a week in the Westminster office, though it seems it'll change again. The last time I heard from her she was on holiday with family and relatives in Brittany, concerned about the lack of masks and social distancing there out in the countryside. They just missed having to quarantine on return and are now in phase two restrictions where she lives in rural Essex. There's been an infection surge in her relatively low incidence region. It's tough when you've got young kids and they have to be kept home from school as a precaution.

Our conversation got me thinking about a report I haven't got around to writing for her colleague Laura on the complexities of obtaining a Spanish police check. It went out of my mind when I got back from Ibiza, so I set about doing it immediately. It can't be often that a locum in Spain has spent so much time there without obtaining a NIE identification number or a bank account, both are important if you attempt to apply unaided, as I tried to. I learned the hard way. It's best to get the local Chaplaincy safeguarding officer to arrange this in situ. In the end it saved me a lot more pain.

Just after five I had a phone call on my mobile from someone to arrange an appointment for a covid test on 7th Novemeber. I was starting to wonder if I should ring up about this, as there was no information about how to get this done in the hospital information pack, only stating it as a requirement. Given the strictness our quarantine demands, there could be no question of driving to a test centre. A mobile test team member will visit us instead. It seems that a number of them are re-deployed District Nurses. I wonder if it will be someone I know?

Clare surprised me again at supper tonight with a plate of lavabread and smoked mackeral. Yesterday she received a home delivery of fish from Ashton's fishmongers in the Central Market, a complete salmon filleted, plus the bones to make soup with (which we had for lunch today), and the lavabread which both of us love but only occasionally get around to buying.

I watched a couple more episodes of 'The Same Sky' this evening. The characterisation and sinister portrayal of the workings of the Stasi informers and their overlords is chilling.

Staycation round two, day three

Another wet grey day, when it's not possible to use the garden for exercise, so I have to complete my reduced walking target indoors. Not being able to walk more than forty paces in a straight line means many more turns and twists. It exercises some different leg muscles and that makes them ache in a way they usually don't, and it's more tiring. But I think it's good for maintaining my general level of fitness. If only the extra Doxazosin didn't leave me feeling oddly light headed and below par now and then. 

Another day to wake up wondering if I'll get a postponement call from the pre-op team. Contagion and hospital admissions continue unabated. Epidemiologists exhibit increasing pessimism. This second wave of infections could have been avoided with earlier and more general controls on movement. 

The return to University and resumption of schooling have had their impact. Even if infection is less severe in the younger age group, contagion spills out from them into the older population. Among older people the death rate continues to climb. Some seem to have eased off on hygienic measures and social distancing. It doesn't have to be many to boost contagion. This makes for a dangerous toxic mix. It's the same across Europe.

A report on virus research I read this afternoon finds that a mutated variant of covid-19, originating with agricultural workers in North Eastern Spain this summer is driving new virus spread, and not only in Spain, but other countries. It accounts for 80% of new infections, not only in Spain, but in the UK. At the moment, this is attributed to returning British holidaymakers, more casual than they should have been about observing social hygiene measures while abroad. 

Each time, travel drives contagion. It's no wonder if there's inadequate or sloppy monitoring and controls on departure and arrivals at airports. Quarantine on arrival with little reasonable possibility of effective enforcement action by health authorities, was too little too late. British Airport managers asked for on site screening of arriving passengers and didn't get it - either too expensive or too hard to implement? It could have been different if Test and Trace started at airports. Now we're paying the price.

Educationalists worry that delaying the return to learning would undoubtedly have an effect on the future youngsters face, but the future of all of us is being reshaped in ways that can't yet be predicted due to the pandemic eluding control. The sickness of so many is unmasking overlooked weaknesses and social ill-health. Impatience in resuming old routines in life risks making everything even worse. 

As in any time of serious illness, much time must be spent in suspense, watching and waiting to see how things will change across the board. Speculation about the 'new normal' without reliable information on where we'll be, even in a few year's time, is no basis for strategic planning. 

.......

As WNO 'Partners', we can take part in occasional Zoom meetings giving talks of interest to opera lovers about the present life and activities of the Company. They are most enjoyable occasions, and sometimes feature mini-performances by singers. This afternoon's session was a fascinating lecture given by Harriet Eyley, an opera singer researching the stage history of 'travesti' women singing men's roles. Until the nineteenth century women were barred from performing, and women's roles were performed either by boys, counter-tenors, or castrated males. Things have changed since then, a complete reversal of roles.

Clare surprised me by cooking a fabulously tasty sourdough pizza for supper this evening, bedecked with mushrooms and onions and the veegan equivalent of cheese, much tastier grilled than raw. She's resumed fermenting sourdough for baking bread, and the pizza was left over when the bread tin was full. That's a delicious treat for a cold damp winter evening.

This evening I watched a couple of episodes of 'The Same Sky', a spy drama from Walter Presents, set in both sides of Cold War Berlin in the 1970's. It portrays domestic and social life with faithful accuracy both sides of the Wall. It touches upon a range of issues - Stasi informers, drug boosted young athletes, gay life, escape attempts, as well as espionage using honey trap techniques. Having been to the DDR just weeks before the Wall came down, we experienced life in East German as well as life in the West, so it all rings true. Nice to escape from covid UK into Europe's past for a couple of hours.

 

Staycation round two, day two

I woke up earlier than usual this morning and needed a shower. Clare was already up and listening to Classic FM. I immediately recognised the opening bars of a string quarter being played as a work by Haydn. It was a masterpiece I's been introduced to aged seventeen during a weekly 'Music Appreciation' class at Lewis Boys Grammar School, Pengam. Sixth form wannabe scientists like me had this plus a 'Use of English' session involving poetry and novels imposed on us, whether we'd passed English 'O' level or not, as I recall. We got acquainted with the work of William Golding and Dylan Thomas before they became mainstream on the curriculum.

Before multi-disciplinary studies were accepted as normal, this was an attempt to broaden our minds, to make us sound a bit more cultured than we really were if we went up for Oxbridge interviews. It was forty years before the internet was born, making culture browsing possible everyday for the curious of all ages remember! I was blessed to be brought up in a musical family. Many aspects of popular classical music I simply grew up with,  played live at home, with a mother who was a piano teacher and a father who was a 'cellist, and two sisters who sang beautifully. Jazz and pop music weren't excluded either, as long as they weren't too discordant, but full of melody.

I couldn't recall the name of the work I was hearing, only that it was in D Major, so I googled 'Haydn string quartets', and came up with a Wikipedia site which listed them all, movement by movement, and gave access to sound recordings, to check for the one searched for. It was 'The Lark', I discovered. Then it came back to me, sitting in a temporary corrugated iron classroom, over-hot in summer term, cold in winter, where the school's second piano and instrument stock were kept, commonly known as 'The Music Shant', its resemblance to a third world shanty town dwelling having been noted by boys and staff alike. 

It was a school with posh ambitions for not so posh boys. Great for turning working class lads into lawyers, doctors, educators, even politicians, and of course international capped rugby players. I endured rather than enjoyed my time there. There was a harshness, even a cruelty about the way we were treated. Bullying was not uncommon, but the school did the job of getting me to University where my liberal arts enculturation progressed and opened me to the world as I studied within the confines of un-applied science, as it was in those days.

Talk about having time on your hands! This morning I took each of my cameras, and reset them to GMT and corrected clock inaccuracies. This normally happens piecemeal and haphazardly when in use. Good for getting photos from different devices into an accurate display sequence. Strange to say it can make a difference when trying to recall a succession of events photographed. 

I'm not sure how I succeeded in doing next what I didn't set out to do. I'm preparing six reflections for the daily Eucharist Gospel readings for the last week of the Christian year, a pretty glum lot altogether. I completed one four days ago, and started on the next. It came together easier than I thought, then another and another until I had completed and initially edited for length the five remaining drafts. About two and a half thousand words altogether. I don't know what came over me. No work done on the novel today, and that has come quite easily this past few days. My energy for writing seems to have returned, and I found time to walk over ten thousand paces indoors. I shall sleep well tonight hopefully.

Staycation round two, day one

Back to rain and greyness all day, so confined to pacing around the house for exercise, much more tiring than walking in the park, but it has to be done. I'm banned from the kitchen and being served meals by Clare on the dining room table next door. This makes conversation a bit difficult and me a bit resentful, but we'll get by. Most of the day when not pacing up and down, I stood up to write for some of the time and wrote lying on the bed when I started to tire. 

After sunset the moon rose with Saturn to the east and Jupiter to the west shining brightly, all three in view as cloud cover dissipated in the cold night time air. A lovely sight.. 

Getting ready to isolate again

Another sunny day, after much rain in the night, despite forecasts of more rain today. I succeeded in getting out of the house to walk for an hour and a half before lunch. As it's half-term as well as lock-down, the parks are busy with parents and children. I saw two women of  a certain age, out with a lively spaniel sit down with their coffees on a park bench with a huge rain puddle next to it. The dog ran up to them, straight through the puddle, soaking them before attempting to climb over them with wet muddy paws in search of attention. They laughed, as much out of exasperation as anything. I don't know which is more trying, let loose in the open air after home confinement, children or dogs.

We took a look at the official self quarantine instructions from The Spire hospital. In effect, the same as those on the standard hospital sheet, a one size fits all prescription. Keep it simple stupid, I suppose. It's complete confinement to the house and complete separation for Clare and I for over next fortnight in spite of living in a bio-secure domestic bubble with no household visitors since Diana and Pete sat in our garden for tea over a month ago. In the end, getting the op requires  testing negative for covid-19 three days before, getting no other infection and keeping fit and well enough to survive the op. An obstacle course by any other name.

We watched another amazing episode of the art detective series 'Fake or Fortune? on Telly, then I did a little work on my novel before turning in. I'm beginning to feel as if I'm on the final stretch at last. Can I complete it before the op, and get it ready for detail and error checking, before the final edit? 

Another lock-down Sunday

Last night I frittered away the gift of an extra hour's sleep with the clocks reverting to GMT working on my novel in bed. I woke up at first light. The sky was clear, a beautiful pale blue, with a single planet Venus visible above the horizon. I looked away for a minute and when I returned to the view, a flimsy layer of dark cloud was traveling from west to east over the rooftops. Amazingly, Venus could be seen shining through.

When I got up at eight, the sun was shining brightly in a sky decorated with small clouds. Sadly, no church because of lock-down today, so I listened to the Radio Four broadcast for Bible Sunday, a service of the Word from St Martin in the Fields, with the Vicar Sam Wells, a Thought for the Day regular, preaching an fine meditative sermon to suit the occasion, Anglican chants and traditional hymns appropriate to the day. Surprisingly, he worked almost entirely from Exodus 3.1-15 and didn't use the Common Lectionary texts. It was beautifully done.

After breakfast, we watched Mother Frances celebrate the Parish Eucharist at the Rectory, and sang along with the hymns and Ordinary of the Mass. The service ended early enough to allow time for an hour and a half's walk before lunch. The weather forecast was for rain within the hour. Cloud built up ominously but no rain fell. In fact, it didn't rain for the rest of the day. The clouds went away at sunset leaving the moon to rise in a clear sky. That made a change from being rained upon and getting soaked unexpectedly.

I went to bed early to watch the political crime thriller 'Roadkill' on BBC iPlayer as Clare preferred to watch interviews with former Abba members on another channel at the same time. Then an hour's work on my novel before surrendering to sleep.

Darker days ahead

Pancakes for Saturday breakfast seem to come around quicker than ever, weeks slip by at a pace when everyday life routines are familiarly the same. It rained until mid afternoon, keeping us indoors until we donned our wet weather gear and walked around the park in the drizzle. Then it stopped. After a visit to the Co-op to buy phone top-ups for both of us, Clare returned home, but I carried on walking further to maintain my daily mileage. We noticed how much less traffic was on the road for a Saturday, far fewer people going into town to shop with many non-essential stores being closed. 

First Minister Mark Drakeford seems to have committed a rare error of judgement by insisting that the supermarkets shouldn't sell non-essential items during the lock-down period, as so many stores selling clothes and non-essential utilities were obliged to close. All on the grounds of chwarae deg, fair play, not giving the supermarkets an advantage over other retailers. One criticism made is that the ban hands business over to on-line retailers, unfair in a different way. It seems to have caused an outcry from the public, people complaining it stops them from acquiring items other than food and toiletries they need to help them live as normal a life as possible under lock-down. By this evening it seems the First Minister's office is already reviewing the ban.

It was closing time as I reached the gates of Thomson's Park, then I heard a loud whistle being blown by the park-keeper, announcing gate closure, so I walked on to Victoria Park, did a circuit of the periphery and headed back. The sun wasn't yet on the horizon but with low cloud it was already dusk an hour before sunset. The clocks go back tonight. Sunset tomorrow will be at five. I don't look forward to this, especially as overcast weather is going to prevail for much of the lock-down and my self-quarantine.

We watched a lovely programme about the history of Venice by Francisco de Mosto, architect and historian, himself a Venetian, giving a clear account of the impact on the city's fabric and community life of environmental damage due to 20th century regional industrialisation, climate change and mass tourism. The poor quality of life there is driving younger people, the mobile enough to be able move away to live and work, making it into a city with the highest average age per capita in Italy, where one in five people are pensioners. 

Tony Robinson's Scandianvian train journey programme which followed seemed lacking in content and interest. Then I noticed a Danish crime drama simply called DNA was on straight afterwards, and indulged further. It's developing an interesting plot, and has dialogue so far in Danish, English and Polish, the latter being a reminder of how close countries of Eastern Europe are to Denmark, now that all are covered by the EU Schengen agreement. We can't travel anywhere for the time being. It's nice to see a little of what places abroad look like on our TV screens.

Payback time

Wales's regional lock-down started this evening, not that it makes as much difference to us as will the even stricter self-isolation I'll have to endure for two weeks before the operation (if it happens). We're well prepared, thanks to Clare's superb household management skills. Even so, there were a few things which I needed, plus some extra fruit, which took me out twice on shopping errands today.

After my first outing to the shops, I called in to the GP surgery for a blood pressure check. It was very high when I arrived as I'd been walking briskly, but soon settled down to just above normal. This is a great relief. Slowly, I believe I'm shaking of the chronic stress I have lived with, and am getting closer to finding a level of supplementary Doxazosin dosage that doesn't leave me feeling light headed and faint for much of the day. Clare's herb teas, foot massages and Reiki have all made a difference too. I've not taken my own blood pressure for months because the abnormally high level was worrying me too much, and probably helping to make things worse. 

Emma has asked me to do another week's worth of reflections to publish daily on the Parish Facebook page in a month's time. So nice to be asked again.

I did an hour's work on the novel before cooking lunch. I wish I could put in several hours a day, but if I sit for too long this has dire consequences for my wound which tends to break open, no matter what I do to avoid this happening. It's tiring, standing up to write for the length of time I need to, if I'm to make progress in finishing the job, and there are only a few places where I can perch a computer at a suitably ergonomic height to make it easy to type. Two days ago I spent an hour cutting up crab apples prior to cooking them. I expected my wrist to give me trouble yesterday, but surprisingly it didn't. After working at the computer using a mouse today, it was payback time. Now my left wrist hurts, no matter what I rub into it. Serves me right for overdoing it I suppose. I'll stop here for today.

Presumption

Blue skies and sunshine today, with a cold breeze causing leaves, gold and brown, to rain down from the trees. Despite a somewhat disturbed and uncomfortable night, I got myself going early enough to get out and enjoy the sunlight and take more autumnal photos. I walked up to Llandaff Weir, having heard that a largish brown bird with a longish bill had been seen up there. On this occasion the Taff was swollen with yesterday's rain, and no birds were to be seen at all in the vicinity.

Clare spent the morning bottling the half a dozen jars of the crab apple jelly and the puree she made. The yield wasn't up to last year's standard, nor the flavour as subtle, probably something to do with the early dry spell after fruiting began, but still acceptable and pleasant. I returned from walking in time to take over cooking a chick pea and vegetable curry for lunch under Clare's supervision. 

Then, a few shopping errands, including a visit to the Post Office to send Rachel and Jasmine's birthday cards to Arizona, the two went in the same envelope. It was thin enough to go at the lowest rate, but because it weighed just a bit more than twenty grams, I had to fill in a customs declaration. What time wasting nonsense! I hope it's not going to be like that after the end of the brexit transition period. I still can't think of any good reason why the UK should be leaving the EU, with so many hassles around trade and transport, which no doubt will cost the country plenty at a time when it's least needed.

After supper, Clare had an on-line Eurythmy Association annual meeting and I languished in front of the telly. There was a revelatory documentary programme on BBC Wales about the quadruple murder of a family in Clydach near Swansea twenty years ago with new evidence and selectively discarded evidence that the wrong person was convicted, although tried twice. Not all of the huge volume of case evidence gathered was made available to the Counsel for the Defence at the time. It will be interesting to see what happens if the case gets re-opened. Was the original suspect presumed to be the only possible perpetrator because of his relationship to the deceased, despite lack of evidence placing him at or near the scene of the crime? Were other possible perpetrators disregarded because presumed to be un-involved because of their standing or status. A real life criminal profiler was interviewed, and his analysis of the man who has spent fifteen years imprisoned for this crime was significant. But, we shall see what happens next.

Foraging again

Overcast and rainy today. Routinely, at least a couple of times a week we get automated scam calls about an Amazon Prime account payment issue. Neither of us have such an account, and I have resisted using Amazon services altogether so far. This morning's call was at nine o'clock. Normally we let the scam call carry on until it times out after a minute of no response from us. Today the recording went through twice, then the voice of a live operator could be heard. Normally you have to press button one to summon a live operator, but not on this occasion. I disconnected rather than challenge the caller. It may have been a system fault on the part of the robotic scam routine, or is it a change of tactic? We'll see, next time we get another nuisance call like this. 

I joined ten others for the St Catherine's midweek Eucharist. No more services in church now until 11th November under the latest Welsh lock-down restrictions. None for me in any case, due to self-quarantine. Given the continued seriousness of the infection spread, I wonder how long it will be before my postponed op is cancelled again.

This afternoon Clare and I went out to harvest crab apples from the two trees ready for picking in Llandaff Fields. This year less fruit seems to have grown on lower branches, calling for extra effort to stretch up and pull down laden branches. It began to rain while we were picking, but we didn't get too wet under the trees, and came away with about two kilos of fruit. Clare stripped off stalks and I cut them up, prior to stewing them for a couple of hours before loading the straining bag to hand overnight. A happy occasion despite the rain, and undoubtedly stiff limbs and back tomorrow. 

Ethical reminder

The five UK Anglican Archbishops have spoken out together, strongly criticising the government's post brexit Internal Markets Bill which makes room for a unilateral breach of treaty obligations arising from the Good Friday agreement. At last! Following the example set by Welsh, Irish and Scottish devolved parliaments, rather than giving a prophetic lead. It didn't take long for a handful of opinionated people to weigh in with the usual meme about not mixing religion with politics. But this statement is not as much about political policy as about legality and ethical integrity. I quote:

“If carefully negotiated terms are not honoured and laws can be ‘legally’ broken, on what foundations does our democracy stand? We urge lawmakers to consider this Bill in the light of values and principles we would wish to characterise relationships across these islands long after the transition period.”

Justin Welby has also been outspoken in the House of Lords

Politics must not be reduced to “raw majority power unleashed” that normalises law-breaking" he warned. "The UK will suffer great harm, and peace between the home nations will be compromised."

Underlying this outspokenness is pastoral concern about the impact of government policies on the well being of all citizens, especially the poorest and most disadvantaged. He also says:

“There is no watertight door in relationships between economics and constitutional issues. They overflow from one into the other.”

Pope Francis has for much of his papacy has given a global lead and spoken out on behalf of the poor and challenged the morality of unbridled accumulation of wealth and power. In his latest encyclical 'Fratelli tutti' he warns against the dangers of populist politics. I'm tempted to say to Anglican leaders, "What took you so long?", but that would be unfair. The pandemic has taken an enormous amount of time and energy to address pastorally, overshadowing brexit fall-out. The media are often very selective  and superficial in reporting what church leaders actually say, because of the view that a weakened church in decline has nothing much to say of interest, apart from the occasion curious, bizarre or dramatically sensational tale. It's the marginalised and weak, however, the 'voice crying in the wilderness' that may deliver unpalatable truths about our world we most need to hear.

More time out

An overcast start to the week to the shops to buy some cooking apples for Clare to use in making veggie mince, ready for Christmas pies. She gave me a couple of bulky unwanted items to donate to one of the local charity shops. I soon discovered these aren't taking in any new items, thanks to the impact of covid-19 on their workflow, whether it is due to shortage of volunteers or sanitary precautions, I have no idea. 

It's clear however that all charity shops are suffering. Some are open, others closed pro tem or closed down altogether. There's no aspect of everyday life that isn't subject to the colossal impact of this pandemic. With both hands full, I couldn't then complete my veg shopping mission, so I had to take the donations back home and return to get the apples Clare wanted. I intended to shop in Tesco Metro, but for the first time noticed there was a queue of more than a dozen people waiting for admission. Unusually busy. Are people stocking up prior to lock-down I wonder? I bought cooking apples in the greengrocer's shop opposite, where there was no queue and no customers at that moment.

At midday First Minister Mark Drakeford announced promised new restrictions. These are due to come into force this Friday, lasting until November 9th, the day before my op - if it happens. For me it means an extra four days of being obliged to do what I'm already doing. Reading NHS Wales guidelines on-line was cheering, inasmuch as they are more clearly set out than stuff issued by central government. Outdoor exercise isn't something one may do, as long as you keep others at a distance and go directly to and from home, it's actively encouraged, for physical and mental well-being. National government has taken its lead from the bumbling vagueness and variability of Boris Johnston's pronouncements, and all of us are worse off for that. 

During my afternoon walk, I passed by the pharmacy to collect the revised Doxazosin prescription, agreed with the doctor, and got a few extra things from the nearby Co-op which I couldn't get in the morning.  I've got enough medication to see me through the coming weeks of quarantine now. The 4mg Doxazosin pills are the slow release version. It'll be interesting to see how well these work, given that the 8mg ones didn't sit well in my stomach throughout the day. It's good if medication can leave you feeling less worse

In the evening I intended to do some work on my novel but was captivated by this week's edition of BBC Four's 'Fake or Fortune' programme, about the investigation of a portrait reputed to have been done by Lucien Freud as a teenager. The history of its origins led back to him, but there was evidence that he had denied authorship on the grounds that it was a work he hadn't completed, even though most of it was by his own hand. It seems he was very fussy about which of his works he allowed to go on sale. This was followed by another interesting programme about a billion dollar art theft from a Boston art collection thirty years ago, in which more than a dozen paintings were taken and have never been recovered. It's an story about the art haul being shifted from the USA by the criminal entrepreneurs in Dublin, which still continues without resolution today.

I then went to bed with my laptop and worked for rather too long, re-reading the first couple of chapters of my novel, correcting and revising them. In other words, avoiding drafting the concluding chapters yet again. I still can't figure out exactly how the story will end.

St Luke at St Catherine's

We celebrated the feast of St Luke the Evangelist at today's Parish Eucharist, one of the patron saints of Canton Benefice. In her sermon Mother Frances spoke about Luke as the 'beloved physician' as St Paul called him, but also in Christian tradition thought to be a portrait painter. His Gospel not only shows his interest in healing, but also his attention to detail in story telling, and a painter needs to pay attention to every detail as well as the whole person, in  seeking to represent someone's likeness in a portrait. A point well made, I thought in relation to discipleship, and doing justice in each situation we find ourselves in. 

When lock-down started back in March, an icon of St Luke portrayed as patron of the NHS was placed in the porch of our St Luke's church behind locked gates, with a votive candle stand within reach through the bars for anyone who wanted to light a candle and pray. It was an inspired idea, and I guess it will be there for a good while longer until contagion is well controlled and the pandemic has abated.

I counted thirty eight adults and fifteen children in church. I believe that's the highest number attending worship since services resumed, a very encouraging sign of the determination of a healthy community to make churchgoing part of its new normal. We've picked up two new worshippers recently, Archbishop Rowan Williams and his wife Jane have bought a new home in a street near the church. 

Mid afternoon we walked together around the Llandaff and Pontcanna fields, very busy with people as on other weekends. I wonder how the possibility of another couple of weeks of lock-down will impact on outdoor activities and socialising. It's hard to police, but maybe the First Minister's clarity in presenting a new set or restrictions will make more people willing to comply without needing much enforcement action. We'll see. 

The Westminster government is still in conflict with local government leaders and MPs of all parties in the North East, most if not all of whom seem agreed that facts on the ground don't match the version on which government decisions are being made, either using out of date information or using politically filtered information to retain centralised control. There seems to be denial at the centre that the test track and trace system is still not effective enough to exert control over the spread of the virus.

It's notable that among regional voices speaking in critical unison against the government's position is Sir Graham Brady, chair of the Tory 1922 backbench committee, an parliamentary body that proposes or disposes of Prime Ministers. Outwardly he remains a loyal Tory, speaking in the best interests of his constituents, what happens under wraps in 1922 committee social circles is altogether another matter. Are Boris and his cronies incapable of doing the job they were appointed for? Can he last? Are the days of this populist demagogue numbered? The same may be true of Trump n the USA, slipping behind his campaign rival Joe Biden in pre-election polls. Is a way back to moderate inclusive political discourse possible, after such a spell of toxic lies and deceit both sides of the Atlantic? We shall see.

Interestingly enough, a new political drama serial began on BBC One in tonight's prime time slot, called 'Roadkill', about a corrupt British government minister and a journalist in hot pursuit of verifiable truths that will expose him and end his career. It presents an unflattering portrait of some of the inhabitants in the so-called Westminster political bubble. How would St Luke have approached this? Well, we need to look no further than his portrait of John the Baptist in chapter three of his Gospel, which is outspoken in a most vivid way against corrupt people with power over others. "Brood of vipers", he called them. 

Pastoral policing

Just another routine day yesterday, except that I walked over to Victoria Park for a change, after a circuit of Thompson's Park for a change, and completed my daily mileage walking in the dark around Llandaff Fields before turning in. Covid numbers continue to rise, and now an all-Wales short lock-down is being talked about in coming weeks. The idea is to curb infection rates and avoid overwhelming hospitals with critical care patients, long enough to get the test, track and trace system running more efficiently, as it's still failing to do its job in slowing infection rates and containing the epidemic.

In this morning's post I received a thick envelope with brochures and a letter from The Spire hospital confirming my surgical appointment on 10th November, and informing me that it would take place in the afternoon and not the morning. I'm delighted about this at it eliminates the prospect of a very early morning start to get there by seven. Now it's a twelve fifteen check-in, far less of a worry! Naturally I'm bound to keep hoping this will happen, but realistically, I can foresee another postponement unless there is a significant measure of success in containment. The Spire       

Clare cooked pancakes for breakfast again today after a lie-in, then set about making three Christmas puddings and putting them on to steam. It left us with the logistical challenge of cooking lunch with one ring and one suitable pan to work with, and both of us wanting to cook different things. Somehow we did this without giving each other too much grief or cross words.

After lunch, I finally got around to doing my tax return on-line and submitting it. Having done a little advance preparation, collecting necessary figures together on one sheet of paper, this took just over an hour. The web interface keeps evolving in a good way, clearer and easier to use once you understand all the technical jargon relevant to your own set of income streams. I don't have many fortunately.

Then we walked around the park and down to Blackweir Bridge. For most of the day until after sunset the sky remained overcast. More and more leaves are falling, creating pools of gold, orange or brown colour on the grass, photos, no matter how well tweaked in processing afterwards never quite succeed in capturing what the eye sees.

The second new episode of Inspector Montalbano was on BBC Four tonight. Superb again and several different stories to be told, no major crimes, but several narratives, you might think of as pastoral, all of which would be part of a Chief Inspector's job in a rural fishing community. One involved a Swedish film crew and Salvo's deputy Mimi misbehaving with a film star, another was about bullying the classroom tech geek in a local school, and another was a curious cold case involving mysterious super eight movie clips, leading to the discovery that a past suicide had been a covered up murder, in tragic unusual circumstances. In this latter scenario Salvo ends up listening to a dying man unburdening his conscience, underlining the pastoral role police officers often take when they're not playing cops and robbers, all part of keeping the peace. The perennial stars of this twenty year old series now look more middle aged, but none the worse for that. I'll be sad when there are no more of Andrea Camillieri's stories to tell.

Standing up for Wales

I was glad to be able to attend the midweek Eucharist with six others at St Catherine's this morning. From there I walked into town and back for the first time in a couple of weeks, to enquire at the Camera Centre about a better telephoto lens for my new Olympus. I've hardly used the one I bought as its range of view is too limited for my purposes. I didn't find anything to buy, but I did learn something new about optical specifications for Micro Four Thirds lenses I didn't know before.

On Castle Street, the larger section of the outdoor restaurant furnishing has recently been removed, the remainder should be taken out shortly. I wonder how successful  in supporting local hospitality this initiative has been over the period it has been in place. Discussion still continues about whether or not to keep Castle Street traffic free, or how to reconfigure the road layout to create proper and bike lanes.

Building work on the new bus station continues apace. The lift shaft for the apartment block over the bus stations site now reaches up twenty storeys, dominating the skyline. When the building is complete it's going to block a lot of natural light into Wood Street. Newer taller buildings will funnel east-west winds and make the area far less pleasant to walk in. Such a contrast to the more human scale of the street's long gone Victorian buildings, and those of adjacent St Mary Street. I still take an interest in progress made on construction work in the city centre, raking photos as I have done over the past fourteen years. Amazing to think it's been that long since the Grand Redevelopment Plan for the city was conceived and first acted upon.

I got back in just time for lunch, and didn't go out or do much for the rest of the day. Ir was lovely to have an email from Valdo sharing his photos of Aigle and Sierre. The Parish where he lives in retirement has lost clergy due to retirement and no replacements yet in sight, so he's returned to taking occasional Sunday services. He wrote about living with the pandemic and said that the usually efficient health care system is showing some signs of not working properly. 

The Swiss track and trace system seems to be working well, with several different smartphone apps available. Their public health precautions are much the same as ours, with the interesting exception that when small groups of people meet indoors, if they do so for more than fifteen minutes, this becomes a matter of report in addition to date, time, place and names of participants. Useful information if you assume that longer contact time means greater risk. Surprising nobody has thought of this here.

Local authorities in Wales are now to be empowered by the Senedd to prevent people from high infection areas in England from entering Wales, where infection rates are lower, to reduce the risk levels. It seems that twice Mark Drakeford our fine First Minister has asked Boris Johnston to take this measure on the English side and been refused. Fortunately the Senedd has legislative powers of its own to fall back on. He gave a reasoned and lucid account of the reasons for this faced with a BBC news interlocutor who to my mind was faintly hostile in his questioning. A typical London establishment journalist.

After centuries of having its natural wealth leeched from it by central government, Wales will never be in a position to be an independent nation, but the case for increased regional autonomy and having mote power devolved to the Principality gets stronger by the day, when government from Westminster fails to act in the best interests of Welsh citizens.

Timed out, taking time

This morning, Clare was ordering on-line the weekly grocery delivery from the Co-op. When it came to payment, the process stalled as the website sought secure payment confirmation from the Visa security server. Authentication wasn't given, and a notification referred her to the bank as the process timed out. Twenty minutes later after a phone call, confirmation was received that no payment had gone through and the card wasn't blocked. The conclusion was that something had gone wrong with the Co-op server side. Another phone call to a Co-op helpline confirmed that they were 'experiencing difficulties' with the payment system, and she wasn't the first person to complain. Another hour of wasted time and frustration. 

Digital payment isn't always as convenient or secure as it needs to be to replace real money, but we're now so dependent on it, in an effort to minimise covid contagion. Using contactless card payment in shops instead of cash for the most part works well enough. I always ask for receipts, but the number of receipts for small amounts is so huge that our receipt file grows thicker and so much more time consuming to refer to if anything does go wrong. 

Banking practice still aims to be as accurate as possible with the tiniest margin of error possible and heaven help you if you overdraw. Not everybody bothers with receipts, however, assuming it's safe enough, with such small amounts, if taken in error being trivial in the bigger picture. But is it really in our best interests to not pay attention to the details, 'the little things' Dewi Sant called us to be mindful of?

I had another chat with my GP about adjusting the dosage of the Doxazosin which I think has been giving me problems recently and she's agreed to trying out a reduction. I'll get a practice blood pressure check next week, before I go back into quarantine.

Every day when I walk in the park I see squirrels sometimes several at a time chasing each other around. Photographing them seems trickier than it used to. Perhaps my reactions aren't as sharp as the once were. Even so, I got two good photos of the same creature today, in a tree four metres above my head, and that was after pursuing it with the lens from the ground up without getting it in frame. A small achievement to post on Instagram, as I have done for some time with some pictures that please me out of the hundreds I take. I used to embed photos in blog postings, but as it's a fiddly business to re-size them satisfactorily, I seldom have enough time for it these days. I don' know where the time goes. Perhaps it just takes that much longer to concentrate as well as reflect on the passage of days.

This evening we watched a round of the Great British Bake-off on telly, for lack of anything else to take an interest in. While it's interesting to see how creative participants can be, I don't like the competitive time cramped framework. Sure, much in the art of cooking depends on getting the timing right, pressure can bring out the best in some people, though not everyone. Great art works generally take time.

Resignation

Another uneventful routine start to the week, cooking lunch, walking around the Fields in the afternoon and watching telly n the evening. I feel I should be using free time more creatively, but am finding it hard to concentrate on completing my long novel. I can't sit and relax for a good long stretch to be able to focus as much as I need to. The interplay of wound condition, high blood pressure and medication whose side effects have more impact than the symptoms intended to relieve, all make concentration elusive. It's quite distressing. Without the op nothing is going to change. I'm in a safe secure, stable environment being loved and cherished by my darling wife.  I just have to 'keep calm and carry on', entrusting myself to God whether or not I survive this vicious cycle.

More dire warnings today from government and public health experts about the need for more restrictions, as coronavirus contagion continues to spread unchecked in many parts of the country, and across Europe too. I'm making an effort to walk more of my daily exercise quota indoors, to get used to this, frustrating though I find it. If my op goes ahead four weeks from now, I'll be back in self-isolation two weeks hence. If it's delayed any longer because of hospital crisis management, we may anyway have new restrictions imposed on outdoor mobility as well as socialisation. 

I believe you can train yourself to cope with most things life throws at you, mentally and physically, if you know what's happening. Uncertainty, lack of understanding and knowledge all generate undermining anxiety. In Britain lack of clarity and frequent changes poorly communicated generate anxiety, resentment and resistance to doing what's in everyone's best interests. In America Trump works frenetically to convey certainty and confidence, contrary to what top expert advisors recommend, and sometimes in denial or distortion of the truth. The November elections promise to reveal whether or not his lies are believed.

Weekend pleasures

A lazy late lie-in with pancakes for breakfast yesterday. The morning slipped away with routine trivial tasks, then I cooked lunch, and later in the afternoon we walked up to Llandaff Weir. The weather was lovely, although as forecasted there was a light shower punctually at four o'clock. I had the Olympus OMD camera with me, and before putting it under cover took a chance shot across the fields bathed in sunlight with the rain falling. Much to my delight, it gave me a photo which showed raindrops lit up as they fell.

In the evening BBC Four treated us to a new episode of 'Inspector Montalbano', the thirty-fifth since the series started in 1999. There's another new episode next week and a third is still being made which I believe, will be shown some time next year. Will that be the last I wonder? The book on which the 37th episode is based was published only last week. Is this the final Montalbano novel which author Andrea Camillieri wrote, which he said would not be made public until after his death? He died in July last year.

It was good to be able to return to church this morning. Forty adults and children were present, which is an encouraging sign of the commitment people have to make live Sunday worship part of their 'new normal'. The BBC Radio Four Sunday Worship programme earlier came from Ewenny Priory in the Vale, led by Fr Edwin Counsell, with Bishop June preaching. Ewenny Village is home to a family pottery business which goes back seven generations. Two family members took part, talking about pot making, and sharing in the reflection on the parable of the potter in the prophecy of Jeremiah. I recognised Fr Edwin's voice after he had only spoken a few words and mentioned Ewenny. A lovely start to Sunday morning.

We were fortunate to have another sunny afternoon to walk around the park together. Clare baked apple and cinnamon scones for tea, their aroma gracing the house, just as the aroma of newly baked sourdough bread did earlier in the day, and the aroma of pancakes yesterday. All delightful, different. Things we love.

Back on hold

The day started with rain and only dried up after lunch, so my daily exercise started indoors only, pacing around upstairs and downstairs. Just before lunch, a phone call from the administrator of the pre-op unit at the hospital, sounding very apprehensive, to tell me that the op has been postponed for three weeks.

Looking at the news these past few days, it didn't come as a surprise, I half expected it and said this to the bearer of the bad news, and said I understood why. She sounded relieved. There'll be others who are sicker, feeling even more desperate than I am, who won't understand, who'll just see it as another NHS failure to meet its duty of care to all citizens and be angry and upset. What a job, to have to explain the reality to all the people whose hopes are being dashed.

Long waits to be operated on, which I have experienced on a couple of occasions, were due to shortage of anaesthetists. In anticipation of the increase in patients needing life support due to the covid spike, surgeons and anaesthetists need to be on standby, clearing diaries to return to the crisis front line. Will just a three week delay be enough? I'm doubtful. 

Having just resigned myself and adjusted to life in confinement, it's back to what passes for normal for the next five weeks before resuming self-isolation. I celebrated with a walk to the shops in search of a small cake tin and a bottle of brandy for Clare - with extra time in home confinement with me, got her started on cooking Christmas cakes, several of them, different sizes. 

Then I went for a walk in the park and took a few photos before tea, and completed my regular mileage quota for the day outdoors again. My legs complained a little at walking bigger distances in a straight line without stopping, just after a few days of being indoors. Adjusting to change, physical or mental, takes longer as you get old, I guess.

In the evening BBC Four celebrated the 80th anniversary of John Lennon's birth, with a showing of the 1964 Beatles movie 'Hard Day's Night'. It came out in the middle of our first year together as a couple. We loved the songs then, and can still sing them from memory, even if lyric details are a little garbled on times. The whole 90 minutes film is chock full of songs, a whole long playing record's worth. Its witty dialogue, comic scenes, superb visuals and editing, are a delight, quite innovative to pack so much in at that time. It's like one long music video, fifteen years before MTV popularised pop song singles videos. 

There were also a couple of documentaries fronted by Yoko Ono, featuring Lennon's post Beatle songs, mostly written after he migrated to the USA in the seventies. Interesting stories and music, either unremembered or new to me. A remarkable creative man, a life tragically cut short.  

Staycation challenge

Now I am confined to the house, I have to adjust to being unable to walk free in the park, away from the crowds, as is my habit. It's no different to how it was for a couple of months in Ibiza, only the available space in which I can move and take exercise is much smaller. It will take some getting used to. No point in getting stressed about it. Accept and work with the given is what's essential and not get drained by the frustration of narrow limitations. I have to think of this positively as being a 'staycation'. (I never thought I'd find a use for that word)  My aim is to do two hours physical activity a day, regardless of how much distance I cover. I just hope I don't drive Clare crazy and get in her way too much.  

We had some early rain then a day of clouds and enough sun and wind to dry a line of washing outdoors. Most of my walking was indoors and barefoot for a change, listening to music on Radio Three. Well, it's a bit different. I covered eight kilometres during the day, much to my surprise.

For both of us ordinary routine activity is curtailed. Washing and cleaning, on-line shopping and cooking, eating and sleeping continue as usual. We don't watch enough telly or movies at home to justify a pay to view subscription. Clare reads a lot, but I find it hard to maintain interest in reading books these days, and tend mostly to read news and other articles in-line. Plus taking photographs. 

I could do with a project to occupy my camera eye, given the limits of home and garden where I routinely take pictures anyway. I need to think of some different subject matter that will involve me learning new things, but where to start? That's the question.

I found out today that 'The Shtisels' is available on Netflix, which we don't have, also that the box set we watched is the second 2015 series, not the first from 2013. It seems that a third series is in the course of being made, pandemic notwithstanding, and will appear on Netflix next year some time. I guess we're less interested in the prequel than the sequel, although, if we could find box set number one to watch we'd do so. 

This afternoon on checking my files I discovered that I've yet to do my tax return. That's a task I now cannot avoid doing on the grounds that I'm too busy. 

Catastrophe in action

 A lovely sunny start to the day. I felt sad not to be able to go to the midweek Eucharist at St Catherine's so I read the liturgical scriptures for the day (the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary) and recited the service off by heart instead. In the lunchtime post came a letter confirming my surgery date. The leaflet giving instructions about self isolation prohibits leaving home, except for medical emergencies. It's annoying to receive this the day after rather than the day before I was meant to start. That's exactly the same as it was when I returned from Ibiza. Quarantine instructions from NHS Wales arrived more than forty eight hours after I reached home. 

In both instances I knew and did the right thing, in terms of keeping well away from other people. It's hardly any wonder some fail to take seriously public health edits, with a catalogue of inconsistencies and delays in time critical communication. So it's back to the cramped daily household exercise routine, and no more photographing autumn colours developing, no matter what impact it has on my physical and mental state. 

The surge of infection rates all over the UK is leading to more localised restrictions, and this has yet to bear fruit in noticeable levelling off or reduction in rates. Some though by no means all University campuses across the country are seeing abnormally high infection rates. It will be interesting to see what analysts make of this. Is it about student behaviour in some communities? Or is it to do with how those students are accommodated and how those residential communities are being managed? Or is it just the random misfortune of the odd anonymous 'superspreader' event revealing flaws in social arrangements, another illustration of catastrophe theory in action outside of expectations?

Tonight we watched the last heart-warming episode of 'The Shtisels'. It ended in a way that suggested a further series, and when I checked IMDB I found out that there is indeed another set of twelve episodes from 2015, the first having been in 2013, and there's a third series in the pipeline. I wonder how we can acquire the second box set?

Self isolation - together

Yesterday was a day of intermittent rain and windy dry spells, and still rather mild. In the morning, I had a chest examination at our GP surgery, to confirm my cold is really on its way out. Very little coughing now and the doctor said that I'd be OK to spend the next two weeks waiting in self isolation for operation number four. I was also given a 'flu vaccine injection. Clare also had hers later in the day, having booked one at the pharmacy so we're both covered for the winter now. 

After lunch I had a call from the surgeon's secretary to check that all is as hoped for, and that I know what's happening. She told me I'm listed for a morning operation, That means checking it at the Spire hospital for seven o'clock, leaving at a quarter past six to be sure to arrive in good time. It's like that necessary flight departure time - you may hate the sleep disruption to get there as required, but there's no alternative but to put up with it..

The Taff water level was a little lower than yesterday so much of the island of stones in the middle of the river was visible again, Unusually, there were a pair of cormorants and a heron keeping vigil over the waves, hoping to spy and catch a fish. Owing to the gusty wind, there were scores of gulls and crows grounded on the sodden grass. 

We again spent the evening watching another three episodes of 'The Shtisels' It's entertaining but gives a lot to ponder on, about power and control, love and freedom in an extended family striving to do their best to keep their conservative traditional faith and lifestyle. With nothing in the diary for either of us in the next two weeks of lock-down, we can work our way through our collection of videos we've never got around to watching.

Today was the first day of quarantine, wearing a face mask out in the street on the way to the park and keeping at least five metres from anyone passing. And, not touching anything with hands, i.e. opening gates, or pressing the button at the zebra crossing. No visits to shops etc. It's stricter than usual, but not too far from how I am habitually. I spent many weeks on my own with next to no social contact and no physical contact with others or the environment outside the house and grounds, so I'm used to it.

Walking along the river path this afternoon, I saw a flock of crows grounded and a young heron walking about among them, without conflict or disruption. An older heron was keeping vigil on the island of stones in the river, a hundred metres away. It's rare for me to see two in the same vicinity like that.

This evening we watched two more episodes of 'The Shtisels', and decided that we'd keep the final one in the box set for tomorrow night, both of us being rather tired. Yesterday's 'flu jabs seem to have had more of an impact on us this year than previously. Is it just that we're getting old? 

Harvest festival weekend

Another rainy morning, enough to make me feel very grumpy arriving at St Catherine's for the Eucharist dripping wet. It was our parish Harvest Festival Celebration, with all the offerings being of foodstuffs that will be of use to the local food-bank. We were about four dozen, including over half a dozen children. A good number considering both the weather and the covid secure restriction, which still un-nerve some of the regulars. I was most touched afterwards to be offered by Hilary from this week's fresh produce for sale from the church garden a jar of crab apple jelly she made from the fruit of a tree planted there last year. The church tree is a little ahead of the ones we hope to harvest in the park, but there seem to be different varieties growing and coming to fruit at different times in different terrains. Marvellous!

By the time we had lunch, the rain had stopped, so I went straight out and walked up to Llandaff Weir via the Cathedral again. It gives me a chance to enter and offer a few prayers in the spot where I was ordained. With my cold almost gone, I feel I no longer need to self-isolate, just wear a mask in enclosed spaces as usual. From Tuesday, I'll have to be stricter, no visiting enclosed spaces, avoiding going near anyone when I'm out walking. It's not so difficult if you pick the right time of day, there's plenty of space in the parks most of the time. Trees are turning colour and shedding leaves day by day now, so each day I take photos of a select few, to record the changes. A small autumnal aesthetic pleasure.

We watched another three episodes of 'The Shtisels'. It's a series that really draws you in, as the characters are believable and you start caring about them and what happens in their lives. After supper we watched the Vienna Philharmonic concert recorded a few days ago in the Schoenbrunn Palace gardens in Vienna. Neither the orchestra nor the audience of several hundred were socially distanced, and only a handful of the audience wore masks. Pre-pandemic this concert would attract an audience of tens of thousands. The audience size limitation seems to have been the main concession to covid-19. I believe that there's a virus testing and tracing regime and other social policies which made the concert possible in this form. In some other European countries concerts and opera performances have resumed under controlled conditions. In a way, all these projects are experimental, an opportunity to find out what works safely and what doesn't. The UK hasn't yet been so bold, not surprisingly, given the difficulties the government has encountered in managing the crisis and retaining public confidence.

Rainy day watching

Another day of rain, cheered with a pancake breakfast. When it slackened off for a while, we went for a walk around the park, and I checked the crab apple trees and picked a pocketful to take back for testing. The hundred grams or so I collected cooked into a puree with quite an interesting flavour, not quite ripe enough yet to harvest for optimum flavour. 

Later in the day we watched the first three episodes of a DVD box set of an Israeli family comedy TV series called 'The Shtisels'. It's about the lives and loves of a Haredi family living in modern Jerusalem, a delightful portrayal of members of a family with a strong commitment to living a devout religious life. It's funny, and not because it mocks its subjects. In fact it's a sensitive and sympathetic portrayal of people and relationships with all their quirks, strengths and weaknesses. I can't imagine how it would be received by a person with no knowledge of Jewish spirituality and culture. It's certainly an advantage that I had to study Jewish religion and practice when I trained to teach RE forty years ago. We had Orthodox Jewish friends in those days as well. Understanding the context, was a source of extra viewing pleasure.

Cousin Dianne accidentally bought the set with French subtitles, and had to re-order the English version as she was evaluating the series as a candidate for a TV award, and didn't trust her French reading ability sufficiently to do justice to the work, so rather than send the set back, she gave it to us. Having watched the first three episodes in one sitting, I can understand her difficulty, as the pace of the Yiddish and/or Israeli Hebrew dialogue renders in French sub-titles at a lively pace for on screen reading. I don't think I missed much. In fact, I was surprised at how easy I found it. 

The French text is clear, and I think my comprehension has benefited from having done a complete French revision course on Duo Lingo a couple of years ago. I keep up my daily Spanish practice on Duo Lingo, and that seems to have benefited my French comprehension, due to the similarity of some vocabulary and turns of phrase. When you learn more than one language in the same language group, knowledge of one benefits the other, it seems, despite the challenge of keeping them separate in use. Clare doesn't find it so easy to read subtitles with her eyesight deteriorating, but found herself listening to the Yiddish instead, as many of its words are derived from the German. 

As it's a domestic comedy, it's mostly set indoors, but the occasional simple street scene is very evocative of the city I remember from twenty years ago, when I had a two month sabbatical in Jerusalem before we moved to Monaco. It awakened in me a longing to return there if the pandemic passes, if my health doesn't deteriorate. I'd like to return again as an independent traveller, rather than as a packaged tourist. I never got around to visiting Nazareth, Galilee, Haifa and the coast, or Gaza, or Jericho. Will it be ever possible?

Fact resembling fiction

Another day of rain and gusts of mild wind that strips the trees of leaves that are turning colour, about to fall A bizarre day with early news reports that President Trump and his wife have contracted coronavirus and are quarantined in the White House. Heaven knows what impact this will have during the last month of campaigning before the US election. It's as strange as the script of a disaster action movie.

Trump has behaved disgracefully in refusing to set a good example, wearing  face mask and keeping a safe social distance at all time, undermining the messages of public health and safety officials. Will this illness win him a sympathy vote, or will it simply demonstrate how unfit for leadership he has proved himself to be in his handling of a pandemic which has afflicted the USA badly? 

It was a matter of putting on full rain-wear for walking today or not going out. There were few people in the park, intrepid joggers and dog walkers mainly. Clare's been trying to organise 'flu injections for us before we go into quarantine. As I'm having a check-up on Monday, I asked the surgery if the GP could give me one at the same time. If that doesn't work out Clare as a couple lined up for us at the pharmacy opposite the surgery.

Covid-19 infection numbers are daeths continue to rise across the country, although it seems the rate of increase is slowing. Hardly a comfort for those who have to deal with the influx of cases, or try to track and trace groups of infected people. 

Waiting and Watching

I went to the Riverside wound clinic this morning for a check-up and a discussion about managing the wound on days when it seems to get worse rather than better. It happens when infection starts to creep in again, and catches me by surprise. I'd rather be well prepared. Pain and discomfort in my perineum when it occurs is attention grabbing enough. I don't wan't it controlling my life. 

A week after the antibiotics finished, thankfully the wound has been less trouble, and I'm feeling better than I have for a couple of months, despite the chesty cough. Time will tell if my immune system begins to regain its strength to resist infection in the run-up to the operation. Monday next I'll have my chest checked to ensure that I can be included in the surgery list. How to be patient and not anxious as I wait is the challenge.

Using my new Olympus OMD E-M10 with its two lenses has made me think about working with the opportunities and limitations of different lens sizes with my Sony DSLR. Most of my photography has been done with zoom lenses of different capacities. I have an Alpha 50mm prime lens I've hardly used since I bought it at a bargain price. It has no zoom ability as it's a fixed lens, a different challenge So, for a change I took my Alpha 68 and the 50mm lens out with me for a walk this afternoon. 

In order to frame the picture you want to take it's necessary to move around a lot more to find the right position. It takes some thinking about as a zoom lens allows you to stay in one place and use the zoom to frame the photo. Going against one's habitual patterns of movement and usage is quite an exercise! Does it give any better results? Hard to say. But the choice of a lens can influence the choice of subject, if you're out as I often am, with no project to work on, just looking for things of interests to observe and record. That's most of my photography, other than landscapes, townscapes and buildings. 

It get me thinking about contemplative prayer, moving beyond pondering to being quietly attentive in God's presence, using words only if necessary, listening, looking, enjoying just dwelling at the threshold between time and eternity. To get there we have to learn, within the limitation of our abilities, to reason and reflect, to listen and look, open to discover afresh what is before us. Art, music, poetry, literature draw their creative impulse here. Likewise prayer, inspiring us to become a whole person fully reflecting the image of our Maker.