Year's end reached

Indeed there was frost overnight, and the temperature went below zero for the first time this year. One piece of welcome brexit news arrived in the news with the announcement of an agreement between Spain and Britain about cross border arrangements in Gibraltar. Discussions about sovereignty are on hold for the moment, but cross border co-operation is in the best economic and social interests both sides. Gib is a key contributor to the regional economy, due to the reach of its legal and financial services industry. Many local Spanish people cross the frontier to work there. I think it's less last minute than it appears to be, but nothing could be formally agreed and announced until brexit legislation had been passed European and British parliaments. 

If there was any prospect of Gibraltar reverting to Spanish ownership would she have been able to afford such a large strategic naval base, vital to the stability and security of the Mediterranean region? Changing the present status quo isn't in anyone's interests. The brexit bill ensures a large measure of co-operation not only on matters of security, but campaigning against organised crime and terrorism. Common sense has prevailed, thankfully.

Despite the chaotic governmental response to the pandemic crisis throughout this year and unmasking of structural racism and poverty hiding behind the mask of an egalitarian liberal society putting Britain to shame globally, there have been many good things to celebrate about 2020. The crisis has shaken very large number of people out of selfish somnolence and awakened them to the blessing of really caring for each other, making sacrifices for the common good, and not in war or in pursuit of wealth. We can rejoice in the high quality of scientific research which has revealed both the nature of the virus, innovative kinds of treatment, and now vaccines. 

Progress has been made in one year that might normally take four to five years, if not longer. It's a year which has seen a huge resurgence in volunteer activity, and there's no doubt in my mind that the pace of progress in medicine science is due to people working insane hours, putting their own health and sanity at risk from exhaustion. The realisation that 'my welfare exists in looking after your welfare: because you are I am' - the Ubuntu principle, crossing generations, religion race and culture is renewing community, also moral and social awareness and a long avoided debate about the kind of future we really want. 

Much of the change of awareness is the fruit of disrupted personal, familial, and working routines under lock-down. We've had to stop, look, listen, and above all think more deeply, question more courageously what life is all about. It's not led to a major religious revival, but perhaps to a re-valuation of authentic spirituality and discernment of lies, folly and deceit. I hope and pray this will impact on Britain's political life long term and lead us to government which honestly, unselfishly and effectively works to eliminate inequality, prejudice and xenophobia. Then we may be better equipped to re-enter the European Union. By then I believe it will have begun to reform itself and work even more effectively for the common good.

The park was busy with people, despite the cold weather this afternoon. There were big clouds at sunset, and with the temperature going down below zero, I wonder if we'll wake up to snow in the morning? Lots of encouraging and hopeful messages being exchanged today with family, friends, colleagues, church members, everyone's making the effort. No partying tonight, except on telly, and secretly among those who think defying the law and ignoring the common good is a personal right.

Early evening we watched on Sky Arts the short comedy movie 'Dinner for One' that we first encountered in Switzerland. It's a two hander, made in English by two British actors better known in Europe than in the UK, as it's been obligatory to view this as part of New Year's Eve festivities since it was made back in the 1960s in Scandinavia, Switzerland, and Germany where it was made for the North German TV. It's a classic sketch about a waiter who gets drunk while serving dinner, featuring the brilliant clowning of Freddie Frinton. It wasn't until 2018 that it was screened for the first time as a New Year's Eve special on Sky Arts. A nice little touch for the night we leave the EU. We need something to laugh about, when there has been so much to reduce us to tears this year. Then a BBC iPlayer gala concert of operatic music performed recently at Covent Garden, live without an audience, all socially distanced. Singers were on stage, the orchestra occupied the entire stalls area, and the Royal Opera House chorus occupied spaces on two floors of the surrounding balcony seats. Some powerful performances by outstanding singers, most of whose names I don't know.

After a break from TV to share these thoughts, it's time to count down to 2021. Time flies by so very fast the older I get.

    

Hebrew World Heritage

In the early day news I heard that now the Oxford/AstraZenica vaccine has been authorised for use, the strategic challenge of mass vaccination of the most vulnerable half of the UK population can begin. It's easier to store and transport, so greater volumes of vaccine can be taken where most needed, a great boost to what started with the distribution of the Pfizer/BioNtech vaccine last week. This sign of hope comes at a time of ever more desperate warnings from epidemiologists about the uncontrollable spread of the new virus mutation, threatening to overwhelm the NHS as seriously as it did in the early months of the year. 

Another chilly cloudy morning, reason to stay in bed a bit longer and catch up on those accumulated hours of sleep missed due to intermittent toilet breaks. I caught the third reading of the mid-morning Book of the Week on Radio 4, a book by John Barton called 'The History of the Bible'. It gave a neat overview of the Old Testament, origins and dating, as understood from modern liberal scholarship and an account of the different ways in which Jews and Christians have classified the books in this library of sacred literature. It's not as cut and dried as might appear, classification has changed at different periods of history in different communities. 

The books tradition attributed to Moses don't date from his era, nor do tales of David and Solomon, but are literature of 4-500 years later. Here's all the things we learned about in college but beefed up, with newer scholarship and presented for the interested general reader rather than the scholar. A propos Moses - one

observation was made that never occurred to me before. The Ten Commandments given to a nomadic tribe refer to life in a settled farming culture. Houses rather than tents for instance. There was oral tradition of a community's law long before written literature, but the transcription from the oral is fitted to a more recent culture. I hadn't taken that in before, even though I've been aware than simpler sayings and stories in the bible were elaborated with explanations and comments in ancient times and became part of the text.

I had a funeral to take at Barry crematorium this morning. Having printed off an order of service yesterday I remembered before leaving that I hadn't printed off the eulogy prepared by the daughter of the deceased. I  asked to see it beforehand, but was under the impression she wanted to read it herself. When I checked with her at the crem, it was just as well I had the text, as she was expecting me to read it. Perhaps we were unclear about it at the time. I should have checked with her last night, but in the event I was ready. 

As the time drew near to leave, I switched on my computer, and found the document quickly, but it took far to long to load into Open Office and print off, thanks to the way Windows 10 works, threatening to make me late. The same process on my Linux laptop over ten years old can be done in two minutes not five or six, but at the time the laptop wasn't connected to the printer. Somehow if Windows 10 can obstruct quick efficient working it will. It only runs fast and well on devices a few years old, and it seems to have a preference for quick file loading from its One Drive cloud platform rather than from the computer's hard drive, unless you have a fast modern solid state drive installed.

It wasn't a relaxed drive to the crem. I was stuck in the long slow moving queue of cars, headed by the hearse as it turned out. The Wenvoe bypass is mostly single lane, no overtaking, and I fretted about being late until I spotted the hearse about fifteen cars ahead, very few of them were in the funeral cortège. I got there on time. only to find that a change of topcoat meant I'd omitted to put in a face mask so I had to beg one from the crem attendant. Sight reading the eulogy text was quite challenging, as I had only skimmed through it before, but it came out OK and I was able to ad lib a little to give it a personal relaxed touch. My afternoon walk started with a visit to the nearest store where I could but a couple of spare masks to keep in each of the coats I use. And one in the car. Better safe than sorry.

Parliament has voted to approve the brexit bill, fruit of several year's worth of negotiations, right down to the last minute. As far as I'm concerned, this is a sad day for Britain. I feel dispossessed of a certain kind of freedom as a European citizen that I'd come to cherish over the past forty years. Travel abroad, living and working abroad will now be subject more regulation and bureaucracy, and in the end more expense. I really dont't think anyone really knows what we've let ourselves in for.

Out walking in the park at sunset, I was conscious of the temperature plummeting suddenly. Frost tonight I expect. After supper another remarkable programme Sky Arts Channel, a documentary about the musical derived from the play 'Fiddler on the Roof', and how the story it tells of like in a Russian Jewish shetl community and how it gets disrupted and dispersed by anti-semitic pogroms. Remarkable was the account of how it got performed successfully by a mixed race school group in the USA in the early days of the civil rights campaign, also by groups in Thailand, Japan, in South Africa, all speaking of how relevant it was to their life experiences. It's reckoned somewhere in the world every day the musical is performed, that's how popular it is. Jewish humour, common sense, compassion and wisdom touches human hearts everywhere. Still striving to be what God called them to be, despite their failings, and despite the hostility they still have to live with around the world.

Digital trust issues

Cold and cloudy again today, with snow in mountain areas, but not around here on the coastal plain. It's only a 'maybe' at the moment. Archbishop Rowan gave a reflection and Morning Prayer for the Parish's daily prayer download this morning, speaking about St Thomas a Becket on this the 850th anniversary of his martyrdom in Canterbury Cathedral. It seems he knew some knights were out to kill him and refused to have the Cathedral doors locked after he entered for Vespers reminding his colleagues that the church was meant to remain open to all, and not be a fortress. Well said, but I couldn't help but recall churches and cathedrals I know which have incorporated defensive fortifications, and even been built into city walls giving security and protection to the vulnerable. It's the other side of the coin from being open and hospitable. It's a constant balancing act between the two, which every church community has to exercise with wisdom and timing. God's truth and justice will always have its enemies, as well as champions who are willing to give their lives to uphold it.

Grim news about rising infection rates continues to overshadow the daily news, with hospitals nearing maximum capacity, and growing shortage of medical staff to cope with the numbers of covid patients. The Cardiff and Vale health board put out a Twitter appeal for trained medical staff to volunteer last night. Within a couple of hours it was taken down. When I chatted with Ashley this afternoon he said he'd heard from the Senior Nursing Officer running the city centre alcohol treatment centre that thirty five people had responded, within a short period of time covering all the rota gaps. 

As the days pass, the threat of total nation-wide lock-down is in the offing. Epidemiologists are expressing serious concern about the schools re-opening after the holidays, before teachers are vaccinated and each school has its own working 'test track and trace' system in place for children. Sensible. The country is still not adequately equipped for on-line home learning, even though teachers are striving to rise to this new challenge. The economic and digital divide is part of a reality the government says it's tackling, but cannot be achieved as quickly as wishful thinking expects.

After lunch, a walk in the park. The Taff water level is subsiding again now. Sophia Gardens coach station was deserted, likewise the usually busy car parks around the closed National Sports centre and Mochyn Du pub opposite. Work on new road surfaces, foot paths and separate cycle paths in this area is now complete. It looks fresh and new, but eerily devoid of users, like the shopping centre. Finally I plucked up my courage to order a new Samsung A20 smartphone from Currys for Clare, the Christmas present I had intended to but for her on my last shopping trip in town in the days beforehand. I left it too late, and now the only way you can buy non-essential items is by on-line mai order deliveries or 'Click and Collect'. I hate using the internet for shopping and avoid doing so as often as I can. I have trust issues - as the current psychobabble diagnosis would have it.

This evening I spent copying photo, audio, video and document files from by desktop PC to an old laptop hard drive with plenty of free space - just in case I decide to give the device entirely over to Linux. I have yet to reach a firm conclusion on this matter.

On leaving something to the imagination

Owain stayed with us until lunchtime, then I drove him to Grangetown to call on a friend for a socially distanced chat over the fence, on his way to the station. He was back home in Bristol just after half past three, having returned thankfully on an almost empty train - quiet a relief for us to know that.

We went out for a brisk walk in chilly damp air around the park together after a post-lunch siesta, it was busy with people socialising at a safe distance, if not walking their dogs or jogging. I seem to need a lot of sleep at the moment. On returning, a bout of curiosity prompted me to potter around with my HP Windows desktop PC to see if I could access its BIOS settings and change the boot order, to allow me to run a Linuz Mint live distro. It was a matter of trial and error, as tracking down which BIOS version applies to this device, and how to access it, is less onerous than googling it when you don't have that info to hand. 

I found out what I needed to know, changed the settings, booted Linux Mint without a hitch, and was astonished how fast it loaded and what a crisp screen display it gave me. Now, shall I convert it to a dual boot system, or decant my data make a fresh start? The device is a 2005 Core-i3, the youngest I've ever tried Linux with, and the operating system doesn't get in the way of performance or annoying update ritual like Windows. Trouble is, if I abolish Windows I'll have no idea how to help others if something goes wrong and they ask my help.

In the evening we watched a play based on Charlotte Bronte's novel 'Jayne Eyre' on the Sky Arts channel. It was a National Theatre co-production with Bristol Old Vic, superbly done with minimal staging and powerful acting, laced with humour, showcasing uncompromising integrity of its heroin, reflecting the emergence of feminist thinking in the early nineteenth century. It was nearly four hours long, but well worth a late bed-time. I'd forgotten just how inspiring live theatre is, and how it leaves freedom for the imagination to work. 

We've become opera buffs over the past twenty five years, and rarely go out to watch a play. Nowadays, we watch movies, probably far too many, and in many if not most of them, too little is left for the imagination. Too much is inevitably mediated by the film director's perspective, and reliance on real life film locations. If a setting has symbolic significance in terms of the story-line, it may not necessarily add value to the plot. In the past few years we've had movie series in which the the clothing or car driven by the heroine has evoked as much comment as the actor and narrative. Authentic portrayal of period pieces is much praised, until someone spots and comments on an anachronism. Theatre, opera and ballet use open symbolism and settings artistically to stimulate memory and free the imagination. 

Funnily enough, what I found superb about this live audience production was the camera work which drew you right into the stage in a natural way without being intrusive, and made the choreography visible, and there's much movement by the cast on two level stage with ladders. A prime example of the powerful use of symbolic stage sets was in Matthew Bourne's masterpiece ballet production of 'The Red Shoes' on Christmas night. It supported the narrative without imposing itself on the performance. Owain a vocational 'vinylist' is fond of pointing out how many great record albums since the 1950s featured cover designs of artistic merit, inseparable from the content, and there's been a renaissance of this kind of art in the techno scene of late. Fascinating.

Parish Patronal festival

I went to St Catherine's on my own to celebrate the Sunday Eucharist this morning in honour of St John the Evangelist our original Parish Patron Saint. The civil Parish of Canton was carved out of the ancient Parish of Llandaff in 1858 and its first church was dedicated to St John the Evangelist. Several missions  were started within its boundary, two of them developed into full Parishes with their own churches, St Catherine and St Luke, over the next thirty years. In the 1990s all three were reunited in the Rectorial Benefice of Canton. Services on the Sunday after Christmas are often poorly attended and fear of covid contagion keeps vulnerable people away. Even so, there were seventeen of us worshipping today. 

Owain and Clare had to stay home to take delivery of the new fridge at a time which coincided with the service. By the time I returned the the old fridge and the packaging of the new had been taken away and the new one was settling in. Clare had been worried that it wouldn't fit in the kitchen unit, being slightly taller than the original, but it fitted perfectly. By tea time it was at its operating temperature, and Clare had retrieved the freezer content from hospitable neighbours.

After lunch, a walk in the park. It was cold and cloudy with sunshine and occasional showers. The park was crowded, in contrast to yesterday, when foul weather kept most people indoors. As we were having tea on our return, we realised that the afternoon TV movie was 'The Sound of Music', which we sat and watched together, singing along with familiar songs. It's several decades since we last saw the movie or the stage version. Owain didn't realise there was a real life wartime refugee family story underlying it. After supper we watched another feel-good movie the Christmas edition of 'Call the Midwife'. Back to normal routine when Owain returns to Bristol tomorrow. We shall miss him.

Fridge woes

Cloudy again today, with strong wind and occasional rain. We got up slowly and decided to to to Penarth for a walk after a light lunch. The day before Christmas Eve, Clare realised that our food laden fridge wasn't working properly. The thermostat, and maybe something more wasn't working, although the lower freezer compartment was, but not quite as efficiently as desired. It didn't improve after vacuuming the refrigeration unit at the back. Getting it repaired at this time posed all sorts of problems, not just finding a technician to do the job, but letting someone into the house without knowing if they were covid free. As the fridge is fourteen years old, it seemed better just to order a replacement fridge freezer on-line. 

Argos duly obliged with a delivery promised on Sunday, St John's day. Clare borrowed some freezer and fridge space from two neighbours in the street for food we didn't need for the moment, and the rest went in the garden shed. It's around four degrees or less at the moment. Thereafter Christmas catering went on as normal, lacking nothing. Today it was necessary to empty the remnants, decommission and remove the unit from its space in the fitted kitchen unit, ready to be taken away for recycling. Goodbye and thanks tomorrow morning, probably while I'm at St Catherine's, celebrating and preaching the Eucharist in honour of one our Parish patrons, St John the Evangelist. Thankfully the homily came together quite easily once I started it.

Penarth promenade was windy, cold and damp, but it was good to get out for some fresh air by the sea. We had turkey soup and cold meat for supper later, and sat together enjoying a fairly early episode of Inspector Montalbano on iPlayer, set just before New Year's Eve. A nice programming proposal on the part of iPlayer. I find it easier to follow the Italian these days, since my comprehension of spoken Spanish has improved. It's only natural as the two have so much in common.

Unique Christmas, hopefully

I woke up at seven, as usual, lacking sleep as I didn't settle down until half past one. That's been pretty normal for Christmas Eve over decades of late night duty, but unintentional. Somehow time seems to be on hold in a strange way during this winter fiesta. I stayed in bed until the day dawned properly with sun and blue sky, and a few beautifully tinted clouds, listening to a Radio Four programme in which several of the actors who feature regularly in The Archers soap opera spoke of their roles in the never ending story of life in the fictional Midland village of Ambridge. 

The programme was in celebration of the seventieth anniversary of the world's longest running serial. In addition, each read a favourite piece of prose or poem with selected music. A unique occasion, to which Auntie Beeb did full justice. Over recent years, a change of editors has resulted in a succession of cutting edge story lines about social concerns above and beyond those impacting on the agricultural industry - coercive relationships, child abuse, environmental pollution, and 'modern' slavery among them - none of them implausible. I've listened on and off over the past sixty years, more so as I've headed into old age and had fewer distractions. Now iPlayer makes it easy to catch up if we do miss an episode. I don;t think I missed one when I was in Ibiza.

At ten, the three of us strolled to St Catherine's for the Eucharist of Christmas Day. There were twenty one of us. We heard there were only nine people for Midnight Mass last night, and four of them were choir, the only occasion on which a handful of masked singer were allowed to perform. With there being so many public services cancelled around Britain as a result of the contagion surge and the general ban on carolling I guess casual as well as regular church attenders would have been deterred from attending. I decided not to go, on the assumption that it was better to make space for others - if only I'd known! I admit I enjoyed hearing the Pope's Mass from St Peters - classic Roman Rite in Italian with sung liturgical Ordinary. I was in my element! 

We went straight home from church to prepare our feast of a meal, the turkey was already cooking while we were out. A real Christmas treat! The four kilo bird roasted perfectly. It was full flavoured and succulent. On BBC iPlayer, I found and then played through the hi-fi yesterday afternoon's Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College Cambridge as we drank Veuve Cliquot champagne given to me when I celebrated my golden jubilee of priesthood back in September. We had just a main course of turkey and roast veg, followed by Christmas pudding, washed down with a bottle of Blauburgunder, aka German Pinot Noir. It was a little less elaborate than how it would be if all the family had gathered, and there were different tastes to be catered for, but all three of us were happy. We lacked nothing apart from the delight of a full family gathering. 

Just after three we listened to the Queen's Christmas message on iPlayer. It was wonderfully affirmative and inclusive, celebrating the spirit of voluntarism and the great diversity of faiths cultures and talents among people of Britain and the Commonwealth, and yet she made it clear that her unifying visions of her citizens was a product of her steadfast Christian faith. She's the lay person who is head of the Church of England, but talked about people of faith, not about the institutional church. A great example to all lay-people. 

The sun shone all day in a mostly blue sky, at a crisp cold three degrees centigrade, just right for a walk after we'd eaten. After opening presents, we went to Thompson's Park, then on to Victoria Park to deliver some fudge to the Rectory. We exited the park through a side street entrance to get back to Romilly Road. I was surprised to be hailed by name by a voice I didn't immediately recognise as we walked down the hill. It was Tony Bishop, who was the City Centre Police inspector when we were starting Cardiff Business Safe. Now he works in the management team of Cardiff Bus, having first retrained as a bus driver after retirement. It seems his daughter recently bought a house in that street. He and his wife enjoyed their first Christmas lunch away from home in thirty years of marriage, he told us with relish. It was such a surprise, given that the streets were otherwise so quiet and empty.

After seeing another spectacular sunset, we relaxed in front of the telly and watched a Christmas edition of 'Call the Midwife', a Clare favourite, with a few snacks rather than an evening meal. Then a quick late night turnaround the block for some cold fresh air to clear the head before turning in. It's been strange, not singing carols in worship, nor even socially this year. We attend public worship as often as we can, but it's such a detached unreal experience, but hopefully unique, if the vaccine roll-out in the coming year has its desired effect. It'll be Easter at least, before we know. 

 

O Holy Night

No rain today, just a cold wind and bright sky busy with clouds. An early walk to the butchers after breakfast to collect our four kilo turkey, then a drive over to Bristol to collect Owain. But first, I had two bereavement phone calls to make in relation to the two funerals I've been asked to do in the next couple of weeks.The roads weren't too busy, and we arrived home in time for lunch at one o'clock.

A  few last minute things were needed from the shops, which apart from the Coop were closing earlier than usual. We got what we needed there however, and then went for a walk in Llandaff Fields as the sun was setting, producing the most spectacular display of pink, orange and grey clouds. We stayed out until it started to get dark. The sky was clear enough to see the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn, but we were unable to spot it. Back at the house, at about half past five, we caught a glimpse of it at west-south-west from the attic bedroom window, descending rapidly towards the horizon, before other stars appeared. To my amazement it could be seen through the foliage of a nearby pine tree, shining unmistakably bright, before appearing briefly in the clear before going below our line of sight. 

At last! My photos weren't good, more 'proof of concept. The line of sight made it impossible to use a tripod, and a hand-held shot could only be as good as my ability to stay still in an awkward angled pose. But never mind. After a week of frustrated waiting a small reward.

Later in the evening we had a family Zoom call with Arizona and Kenilworth. No Midnight Mass for me this year. Before bed I watched a recording of the Papal liturgy from St Peter's Rome. Socially distanced congregation of laity, clergy and cardinals, a men's choir and a mixed choir. Everybody was masked and key participants with speaking parts only removed their masks to speak and then put them on again. A good example from the top down. The service started earlier in the evening while we were zooming, and then appeared on YouTube, where I watched it. It seems Italy has imposed an overnight curfew from ten until six, hence the early start time. Here with all the pubs closed, the evenings are very quiet. There are no smashed bottles or pools of vomit and discarded takeaways fouling up the streets, just a few cans, but fewer than usual. A lot pleasanter to be out and about that in previous festive season in the past couple of decades,

Brexit breakthrough

I woke up in good time again to upload the Morning Prayer video and stayed in bed a whille longer as it was yet another dark miserable rainy day outside. After breakfast, I went to the midweek Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were ten of us. Emma and Dominic are back on duty, which is very good news for the Parish. After lunch I collected the organic veg bag from Conway Road, crowned with a well populated stalk of Brussels sprouts a winter and a Christmas favourite plus lots of freshly root veg. 

I underestimated how heavily it was raining. My waterproof jacket and trousers were sodden by the time I got back. I had to change both. I decided to relax for a few minutes and listen to the news before going out again to walk the rest of my daily mileage. I slept for more than an hour before going out into the rain again. With such low cloud, it got dark very quickly. I don't think I've ever seen such huge pools of water on Llandaff Fields. It's just as well that the Taff is much less likely to burst out of its watercourse and flood the fields, now that the banks have been cleared of excess vegetation, improving the speed at which huge volumes of excess water drain away. With fields so waterlogged, flood waters would travel much further towards housing areas.

At last today, good news from the negotiations between the European Commission and UK government. Agreement has now been reached on every aspect of future relations and last of all and most importantly trading terms, which negotiators have been struggling with over the past six month or more. Nothing is agreed until everything is agreed. That's the accepted principle. No detail of the trade deal have been released yet. Some details are still being worked out now that principles and procedures, two thousand pages of them, have been agreed, but political leaders and commentators are sounding more positive than they have for many months. Compromises have been made and it won't be long before there will be reactions from noisy hardened separatists both sides of the Channel.

The number of lorries still stuck and waiting to cross the Channel after border closures is now over four thousand. It's due to the sharp rise in a mutant strain of coronavirus cases recently identifies as behind the latest surge. The French government has agreed to let lorries and their drivers continue their journeys once they've been tested for the virus. It's causing huge frustration and resentment among both drivers and local residents whose lives are disrupted by a 24/7 traffic jam on their doorstep. Getting the tests done quickly  is a logistic nightmare. It's giving the region a foretaste of what could happen without or even with a brexit deal, as there's so much bureaucracy attached to any country not part of the Common Market. Brexiteers will get what they voted for, perhaps not quite what they wished. I can't imagine that resentment against them will fade any time soon. Political efforts to reconcile leavers and remainers seem destined to fail with things the way they are. 

Selfish tunnel vision

Another day of persistent low cloud and rain, although not so heavy. I walked down to the shops on Cowbridge Road East before lunch, to confirm when I'd pick up our turkey order, and there were long queues outside Tesco's and one of the butchers, though not ours, perhaps because it's concentrating on orders rather than on every day meat purchases. It's interesting to observe that not everyone queuing wears a mask until they're actually ready to enter the store. Most aren't queuing two metres apart. 

There was an interesting interview on the BBC 'World at One' news programme with a head teacher in Kent. It seems that the new covid variant is having far less impact on younger children than on teenagers. I've been puzzling over this since. It strikes me that younger children are more likely to remain compliant with social hygiene instructions than older ones who are finding their freedom and keen to challenge any boundaries imposed by authority. 

When I was out walking in Llandaff Fields after lunch I noticed more than a dozen teenagers gathered around the bowling green club house, not invisible but certainly a more secluded spot to stand and chat close up and have a drink together. No matter how well organised safety measures may be in school, and no matter how compliant older children may be, it's what happens when they are out of CCTV range, in the toilets, behind the bike sheds etc; that poses a risk to kids keen to break the rules, and succumb to the temptation to risk getting up close and personal. The problem persists if schools are closed and kids have to stay home as it's impossible to stop them roaming outdoors and socialising.

The closure of international borders to any kind of traffic from Britain is causing chaos for the transport of goods in both directions, with a tenfold increase since yesterday in the number of lorries parked, awaiting the re-opening of ferry services in the region around Dover and Folkestone. Not only does this have an impact on 'just in time' food supply delivery but is a serious concern for the welfare of 1,500 drivers, most stuck far away from home. 

From his professional perspective at the DVSA, Owain has been pointing out for the past year that the transport industry is agreed that whether or not there's a brexit deal, implementing new regulations is bound to generate similar scale delays. There is something pathologicallly obscene about British politicians trying to whip up xenophobic hysteria against the EU, French and Germans (in particular) for exercising their sovereign right to control borders in a time of major crisis, when the brexit initiative has been about insisting on the illusion of British sovereignty. But will voters see through such self centred foolishness? Like it or not, as St Paul said "WE are members of one another." Time to grow up and get used to this.

Preference for podcasts

Any prospect of viewing this evening's much talked about historic conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn was dashed by continuous low cloud and rain all day and into the evening, Although I was awake at seven, in good time to upload the day's prayer video (without incident thankfully), it took me until the afternoon to venture out fully clad in waterproofs and do a full circuit of the parks. Most of the morning was taken up with catching up with this blog. Remembering today or yesterday in detail is challenging enough, as I never make notes. Remembering two days ago takes even longer, especially if it was seemingly uneventful. But it's on such days there's time to muse and reflect, and not just report. 

I had an interesting conversation with Owain this morning about communication strategy, and he told me how some big corporate companies were issuing reports and news news updates, by audio podcasts with a written back up maybe, but not using video media unless there was a specific need speak face to face. An interesting piece of research by an occupational psychologist has revealed that recipients of an audio podcast understand and retain three times as much information as those who watch a Powerpoint or a video presentation. 

Visual information, despite appearances is more complex to digest, as visual words and signs must be translated into real words and thoughts to be processed and understood. If used at all to inform they must be used far more sparingly than is commonly the case. Simple old fashioned static signs work far better than animated video messages. Spoken words are portable and don't hijack the whole of one's attention as visual communication does. You need to sit down to watch. It you look at something on the move you risk not seeing danger before you. It's simple and obvious.

This conversation started because I was telling Owain about the prayer videos I worked on yesterday, and how much more demanding a task this was than producing audio only worship material in Ibiza. His response was - why not stick with audio only then. Clare also confirmed that she only momentarily looks at a prayer video, and then just sits back and listens. Audio only is easier to prepare, even when editing together several voices, sound effects and ambient music together if needed. Being lighter in digital size, it consumes less time uploading and downloading. Case made, as far as I'm concerned, but I only have to do what's asked of me, and that involves video! Even so, Owain sent me a digest of the research article he had spoken of, and I forwarded it to our parish clergy for interest's sake.

The river Taff wasn't as high as I had expected, when I got there half an hour before sunset. The fields were sodden with big pools of standing water around tree trunks, too much to be soaked into clay subsoil quickly. If the river had burst its banks flood water would possibly cover an area of grassland even greater than the last overflow in February this year. Few people were out, except for determined runners and dog walkers, whose charges seem delighted to run with great gusto in the rain. The surface was so waterlogged that dogs running on grass sounded like a high speed fusillade of splashes from a hose.

Mother Frances sent me a copy of the liturgy for Sunday next, St John's day, one of our Parish patrons. I spent an hour of the evening reformatting the original to print into a simple readable booklet for me to use at the altar. The variety we now use in liturgy is such a change from the limitations of the old Prayer Book liturgies I grew up with. I like the flexibility, but still pine for a solid Missal rather than a leaflet. 

Each Anglican Province produces its own, as does the Roman church, but the use of leaflets has become widespread in the past decade, and I'm not at ease with this because it involves the consumption of so many ephemeral resources, adding to our carbon footprint, while dioceses and churches attempt to move in the direction of becoming 'greener' institutions. A bit contradictory really, and I was a much to blame for that in my full time ministry as anyone else. Sooner or later poverty will make us change our habits of consumption.

Dark times

Despite bad news, there were two dozen adults at the St Catherine's Eucharist this morning, no children, however. This afternoon's Nine Lessons and Carols has been cancelled, as that was to have involved a socially distanced choral contribution. Better safe than sorry. Hard enough to stop people singing along to popular carols in church. It can only be done in the street or the park. I sang 'Silent Night' aloud as I walked to the weir, but it provoked not a single response from passers by.

After doing a couple of recordings this afternoon I went for a walk as the sun was setting, hoping to glimpse Saturn and Jupiter converging after sunset. I think I was looking in the wrong direction to start with. Light pollution plus a thin high level wispy layer of cloud impeded the sight of all but a few very bright stars (and maybe Mars), and just as I was heading home, I caught sight of a very bright object about to disappear below the remains of the pink horizon, but to was to the west, not the south west as it had been reported in some news-feeds. I think its trajectory takes it from South West to due West as it moves down in the sky. The brightest night of the conjunction will be tomorrow. We're expecting clouds and rain all day. It really makes me long for the pure un-polluted heavens of Ibiza under lock-down.

After supper, I recorded the remaining three videos, and sent the New Year's Eve one to Mother Frances as requested. None of them are as good as I'd have liked them to be, but they'll serve the purpose, I think.

Owain and I had a long chat about his Christmas visit. As a government communications professional in a key agency, he's able to navigate all the complex info on rules and regulations, and find what relates to those in a domestic bubble. It's OK for him to come to us in Cardiff, and permissible for him to stay, as he and us have been living in isolation and not mixing with anyone at home. I shall drive over to collect him on Christmas Eve, so that he's not exposed to any kind of risk involving public transport. So glad that we are able to do this, for his sake and for ours. Such a long and lonely year. And the longest night is tonight.

And now a festal season lockdown

Pancakes again for breakfast today, plus a couple of rashers of bacon from a packet opened a few days ago, an extra treat! There were more outbreaks of heavy rain, plus enough respite time to have a good walk in the park. I've been trying to figure out a setting in which to video the next batch of Morning Prayer videos. It's rather tricky to set anything up that looks good in the favoured portrait display mode, due to the phone camera's field of view at close range. I've cleared Clare's desk to make space for an icon, a big candle in a red vessel and an open bible. but positioning the phone to block avoid home office-like surroundings and having room to show my face as well is really frustrating. I have to record on the phone in one take so distribute via What'sApp. Anything edited on another device or taken with a proper camera doesn't render correctly when transferred back to the phone and I can't figure out why. You have to work with what you've got, however. And I can, with a bit more patience.

At tea time I had my appointment at the Heath Hospital, driving over there in the dark, and parking at the house of Vanessa and Keith, friends from St John's City Parish, to walk into the campus rather than risk not being able to park. I could have chanced it as the hospital turned out to be pretty quiet at that time of day, and during a pandemic. I was twenty minutes early and ushered in straight away. I had to change into a clinical theater gown, before going into the scan room for a briefing, and kitted out with  ear defenders, as the equipment is very noisy. The twenty nine minute sequence of scans, pairs of three, then four five and six minutes at different frequencies is a strange sci-fi like experience. Amazing imaging technology, invented and developed to a high degree of sophistication from scratch over the past sixty years. What a time to be alive.

When I returned to get my my car, I chatted with Vanessa and Keith on the doorstep for five minutes. It had just been announced on the phone that the lifting of meeting and travel restrictions for the Christmas feast has been cancelled nationally, because of the rapid surge of infections caused by the new contagious variant of covid-19. The changes come into effect at midnight tonight. I'm not surprised. Fortunately, church services haven't been cancelled, yet. This could have been foreseen a few days earlier. Such short notice will be create havoc, not just for families planning Christmas gatherings, but also for businesses which are already in an advanced stage of preparation and delivery of Christmas dinners.

Not much of interest to watch on telly this evening, so I worked on my New Year's Eve reflection and Morning Prayer combined video script. Very hard to keep within the optimum eight minutes. I tried a few experimental recordings, but wasn't satisfied with the result, and went to bed, not quite as late as usual.

Again, rising waters, rising infections

There was a lot of rain again overnight, and water engulfed the Blackweir fish ladder for the second time this week. A solitary heron was on fish watch a couple of metres away from me on the waters edge just below the weir gradient where the waters were boiling. I got a few good static photos but as ever only blurry ones when it took off, circled and landed again just a few metres further or, before finally flying away altogether. The flood waters are draining away well, even if they've come within thirty centimetres of the footpath at the top of the weir twice this week so far.

Returning from the park, I ran across the pelican crossing just as the bleeps were stopping before the cars in both directions could start up. In doing so I lost my Samsung phone from a side pocket. I only realised this when I got home, but before i could start fretting my sister June rang up on the house phone to tell me that I'd lost it! Apparently a man living at the top end of Cathedral Road saw this happen, and retrieved it from the middle of the road. As I don't lock the phone (never using it for any kind of financial transaction) he was able to open it and found June's name and number at the top of the 'recent calls' list. Within fifteen minutes I was able to reclaim it from him at his house. It turns out that he's the nephew of our previous next door neighbours in the Rectory and Queen Anne Square, christened and married at St John's church. A small world indeed. I was very lucky, even if it was the first time I have ever lost a mobile phone.

More disturbing news coming in today about a coronavirus variant which is more contagious, spreading quicker than previous variants, and accounting for the stubbornly persistent rise in numbers of infected people. It's not just that many people have become less vigilant about mask wearing, social distancing and hand washing, but that, in effect a smaller amount of the virus is able to latch on to the respiratory system and infect, so the chances are increased of chance passing contact, let alone careless behaviour, can infect a person. They may have milder symptoms or none at all, but be virus super-spreaders without realising. 

Central government is dithering, but exhorting greater vigilance and compliance. Regional governments are worried and issuing similar messages. Wales has so far announced another period of harder restrictions after Christmas, to mitigate the impact of the easing of the present restrictions for five days of Christmas festivities. Leading have for some days openly warned of the danger of any easing of restrictions, but the Prime Minister seems hard of hearing, or else slow brained. Following the science, but from behind ... at a suitable social distance, you might say.

Mother Frances has invited me to preside at the Christmas Sunday Eucharist at St Catherine's, which I'm happy to do as it will give someone a break, hopefully. She's also asked me to do a video Morning Prayer and 'Thought for the Day' combined for the 31st December. I need to work on that pronto, as she wants to get all the next week's videos in place by this coming Monday. Nice to be asked, and to be well enough to respond positively. Also nice to receive a Christmas greeting card from Bishop June, who seems aware I've been in Spain. I must send her a copy of our greeting and newsletter.

Another Baltic murder mystery on More Four channel this evening, continuing the story-line of the first two episodes. This isn't a long drawn out hunt for a serial killer or terrorist but a police procedural with a different case each episode, but the background story thread is about mother daughter, grand-daughter relationships in a family of law officers. Interestingly enough it's also about reconciliation and forgiveness. I hope there are more episodes to come.

Dorset tales

I walked to St John's in good time the celebrate the Eucharist this morning, but we were still late getting started. It took me longer than I expected to prepare for the service as there are extra things to remember now that it has to be hygienically covid-safe, and a sacristan mustn't do anything to assist for this reason. If I was celebrating routinely it would be easier to remember everything and I'd be quicker to set up. But nobody in the congregation of six was bothered, so I could be relaxed about it. Nobody was in a hurry. 

I took with me Clare's Christmas cake contribution to the on-line Christmas fayre to deliver, and collected the three jars of apple chutney ordered and paid for. Circumstances are exceptional, but a real creative effort has been made by parishioners this year to make it business as usual when it comes to church fund-raising. It's marvellous to see, and be part of.

I did some writing before and after lunch, so it was done three when I walked around the park. It's been drier for most of the day, but overcast, so the water level in the Taff was going down again, It's been raining this evening and more spells of heavy rain are expected. In coming days. It was nearly dark when I got home, and the lights around the trunk of the decorated tree at the bottom of our street were on, so I took a couple of photos. As they were winking lights and the general illumination of the scene was poor, it took the camera longer to focus, and capture the blinking lights in their 'on' phase. Low light photography isn't easy. Even with a sophisticated camera shutter speeds are lower and a stready is vital. I got lucky! 

We watched the 2015 version of the movie of Thomas Hardy's 'Far from the Madding Crowd' on BBC Four this evening. I remember when we were young watching the 1967 version with Julie Christie and Peter Finch and Alan Bates. This one starred Carey Mulligan, Michael Sheen and Matthias Schoenaerts and the scenic photography was superb. But then, the coastal Dorsetshire Downs landscape is superb. We remembered some though not all of the story. It'd be nice to compare the two versions. 

We've seldom visited Dorsetshire, over the years, despite having a friend living in Hilfield Friary near Sherbourne. It's rather strange really when you think that my paternal great grandfather migrated from the Vale of Wardour area on the Dorset-Wiltshire border having married there a servant girl, Mary Ann, from Ebbw Vale. He worked as a labourer in the steel works there, back in the 1890s. The family tree drawn up by my late cousin Lindsay goes back two hundred years before then. Somewhere to visit when things get back closer to normal maybe.

Deluge, plague and good news too

Lots of heavy rain overnight and a wet walk to St Catherine's for the Eucharist this morning, with eight others. At the corner junction of Severn Grove and Romilly Road is a spot that's poorly drained, as usual after heavy rain a big pond of water extended into the middle of the road. You have to keep an eye out for passing cars and wait before walking around it or get drenched. When it's that bad, the water level in the Taff is bound to be high as proved to be the case when I walked to  Blackweir Bridge after lunch. High enough, in fact, to cover the fish ladder structure. More heavy rain to come in the next few days.

Much to my surprise, mid-morning I had a call from the Radiology department at Heath Hospital booking me in for a MRI scan this coming Saturday at five thirty in the evening. Talk about working flat out! This is happening just when Mrs Cornish the surgeon, somewhat confidently I thought at the time, said it would happen, with a view to operation number 5 in February. Given the infection surge, this might again end up being postponed, but clearly the determination is there to get as much possible of normal medical services running as desired to clear the backlog. A herculean task indeed. I couldn't help expressing my delight at receiving the call to the co-ordinator who rang, which seemed to take her slightly by surprise. It's a real morale booster. 

First Minister Mark Drakeford announced that in view of unchecked rises in coronavirus infections there is to be a further period of lock-down across Wales after the Christmas respite. The number of households that can meet indoors is reduced from three to two, but Owain can be counted as in a bubble with us, so when Kath, Anto and Rhiannon come down for Boxing Day we can meet at home. We are discussing an outdoor rendezvous however, maybe half way between Kenilworth and Cardiff, so we get some fresh air. Trouble is that all pubs and restaurants will be closed after Christmas Day.

It was revealed that 11,000 coronavirus Wales test results from a previous week's statistical report had been omitted inadvertently. This was due to 'scheduled maintenance' downtime on the national Lighthouse test lab system, set up by the government initially disregarding the capacity of regional public health and university labs all of the country to deal with their own locality. By national here I mean 'England' based, and I've already seen how poor communications can be in relaying information between central government and the nations. Two days for the border force to tell Wales NHS that I was home from Spain, for Wales NHS to order me to self isolate. Ludicrous in a digital age!

Mark Drakeford was up-front about the consequences, even before the impact of the incoming news had been expertly assessed I suspect. That's the best explanation I can think for some of the changes moving from being strongly recommended to having force of law in one afternoon, in the light of new information I suppose. Return to tough restrictions is going to mean more hardship for many more people, but how else is control over this pandemic going to be possible, without a death rate of American proportions.

In the evening, I completed the texts for next week's Morning Prayer videos. Mother Frances has asked me to do this again in the week after Epiphany. While making the recording can be a bit stressful I enjoy the challenge, and am relieved it's not something I have to do as a matter of routine duty every week on top of everything else full time ministry demands. Then I set about emailing the digital edition of our Christmas greetings and letter. Another half a dozen new addresses this year, from my time in Ibiza, and so far only a couple of them bounced back. Quite a productive evening, even if I did end up getting to bed too late.

Hope for America declared at last

The weather was bright to start with today, but deteriorated later, so I pottered around this morning, chatted with Ashley on the phone for an hour, then cooked lunch before going out to post a few more cards and then for a walk. It was almost dark by the time I got back. The tall tree at the entrance to our side street has been decorated for the festal season with huge pom-poms made by some of the kids from shredded plastic bags, strings of fake lanterns - I don't think they meant to glow, plus a string of white lights which do light up, spiralled around the tree. I saw them lit up for the first time this evening. 

Several houses in the street have decorated their front garden fences with lights, and curtains are being left open to reveal Christmas trees within. I think more people are making an effort this year, not just as a cheer-up measure, but because they may not be able to travel away to be with family at Christmas. Even though relaxed restrictions are meant to come into force in a week's time, concern is rising about the wisdom of this, given the rapid rise in cases in the South East, and in Wales, experiencing now what the North went through a couple of months back. Present restrictions may end up not being relaxed at all.

Last night Joe Biden was formally declared to be the next US President by state by state appointed members of an Electoral College. This will be confirmed by Congress in the run-up to the Inauguration in January. Trump has refused to concede that he has lost, many Republicans are silent or voice agreement with him, but some have acknowledged that his election was free, un-corrupt and fair. Trump's last ditch attempt to subvert the democratic process will be to produce his own alternative panel of state appointees, to declare him the winner, and insist that Congress examine his claim, although his lawyers have produced no concrete evident in support of his claims. 

In his last month as President he has approved the execution of several prisoners on death row for years, and plans to issue pardons for himself and some of his cronies. He has behaved consistently as a fantasizing megalomaniac ignoring deadly reality, fomenting racial and social divisions, denying climate change and America has suffered grievously as a result The fact that he now denies his decisive rejection by the majority of voters, poses serious questions about his mental health. Will he use an insanity plea in future to evade the long arm of the law when he's faced with a series of indictments, I wonder?  So glad he's going, even if the lame duck is acting strangely and savagely. The world will be a safer place with a practicing Catholic in the White House, with a record as a reconciler, and a declared re-unifying agenda.

After supper I continued preparing texts for Morning Prayer in the days before Christmas completing one started yesterday but interrupted by the Google server outage, then completing another, and saving a copy of the three done so far on the SD card attached to my Chromebook, so it can be taken away and edited in a standalone device if needs be. Better safe than sorry from now on. 

Tech reports today indicate the Google outage lasted only fifty minutes, although there have been knock-on effects in latency of function with some apps. My sister June was complaining about typing and words being slow to appear. Not an uncommon phenomenon in my experience, with Windows updates and scans usually seeming to hinder normal functioning, either because the background process hogs bandwidth, or processing power is consumed by security scans on the device. Grand scale server outages also part of the Google ecosystem too, if less frequently than Microsoft, and yesterday's outage was a prime example of this nerve wracking failure. 

Losing a grip on contagion

This morning I worked on the second of the four offices of Morning Prayer that I have to prepare for the week before Christmas. I'd just completed it at half past eleven when my Chromebook froze on me. Both Google Docs and Drive were inaccessible. I had no idea whether it was a fault in the device or on-line, but soon enough my newsfeed was reporting a global Google services outage, which made the afternoon news broadcasts, but by that time it had been fixed and I was able to access the document in question and it was undamaged, just as it had been when I finished it.

On reflection I thought how foolish it was to rely so heavily on Cloud storage. No matter how good and generally glitch free it can be, the bottom line is that I'm not in full control of my own work. All that's needed is to start a document and save it to the memory of the device itself or better still to its SD card extension, as the card can be removed and used on another device instead. I must change working habits to this effect, as it would be possible to work on a document stored on the device, even when off-line, even given the high web dependency of a Chromebook.

Yesterday evening before settling down to watch telly, I finally got around to putting cards and letters in the envelopes labelled last week to finish the job. After lunch I took them to Canton Post Office. Outside eight people were queuing. The prospect of a long wait to be served pushed me to walk half a mile up the road to Victoria Park Post Office, where only four people were queuing. I bought stamps for the fifty odd cards I had to send, five to Switzerland and forty five to UK addresses, but had to put the stamps on the envelopes outside as there was no room to do this inside. 

I used the top of a telephone relay cabinet next to the building as a work surface, and popped them in the posting box in batches as I proceeded, grateful that it was dry and not windy. By the time I'd finished, the queue outside had eight people waiting, and when I walked back past Canton Post Office fifteen people were waiting. I was lucky to have gone out before most people had finished their lunch.

Now there's the digital greetings to do, and a cross-checking interrogation from Clare to ensure that I have registered this year's changes of address. There are always a few.

Then, a quick visit to Tesco's for some wine, and after taking it home, as circuit of the park past the crab apple trees, as Clare reported that apples were beginning to fall from the tree which hadn't been stripped bare. I took my Reacher device along to help me grab hold of branches and pull them down to get at high level fruit. It wasn't that good, but I did gather about 250 grams worth, so now we have 400 grams to  turn into jelly and puree. And now I feel stiff all over from all the athletic effort of stretching up to grab branches. I hate being old.

More surges in infection rates locally and particularly in the South East of England, and probably easing of restrictions over Christmas may get cut back nationally as the heath services are already getting over-stretched in a worrying way. Early closure of schools and reverting to on-line learning is being ordered in England, and was already put in place in Wales last week. Would that schooling was better geared up to this change, and that everyone had equal access to digital equipment and service provision, but they don't. 

The country is not being well served by reactive policies. Our leaders are quite nervous about imposing proactive stricter measures for fear of push-back from the public. No measures are really adequate to address the complexity of the problems we're facing right now. This is a long a steep learning curve for people at every level of society, leaders and the led.

 

Sta Lucia, the old Winter Solstice day

This was the first Sunday morning in recent times when it rained hard when we were setting out for the Parish Eucharist. Even so there were as many people in church this week as last, undeterred by weather. Mother Frances preached about the impossibility of organising a perfect Christmas dinner, despite one's plans and best efforts, because, she reminded us, we're not perfect. Then she turned to the John's Gospel passage for the day about the testimony of John the Baptist to the Messiah, and how when questioned as to whether he was the One to come insisted "I am not.". No matter how gifted and competent we each may be, we are not perfect, not God. A good point worth making in a world which entertains the idea of superheroes not only in comic book mythology but in everyday life where popular stars are idolised.

At home afterwards, I received an email from Sara in Gothenburg with a web-link to the Swedish telly annual broadcast on the morning of Sta Lucia. It's an hour of Advent and Christmas Anthems and Carols sung by an excellent youth choir and by a group of primary school kids. The teens, in white ceremonial dresses sang to camera, socially distanced as one might expect. I seem to recall this was what happened in previous Sta Lucia day concerts, as all the girl choristers are carrying candles! It's set in the hour around dawn, whether live or not I don't know, but it's enchantingly beautiful. 

It makes me realise just how close we are musically across the North Sea. Not least because so many Scandi composers have studied and worked in Britain I suppose. Melodies, influences, composers, the style, the energy in singing - I love the warm soft edged tone to the voices, clear yet tonally precise, distinctive, different from the UK young choral sound. A pre-luncheon Gaudete Sunday treat, and great tonic for the week leading up to winter solstice. 

I didn't realise until later in the day when I heard on a radio programme that 13th December in the Julian Calendar was Winter Solstice. This explains something of the significance of the candlelight ceremony that is a popular feature of Scandinavian culture.

I went out for my afternoon walk in the rain. It then stopped for an hour, and started again as I headed home, but at least it wasn't cold, and the wind wasn't strong. The Taff was swollen and the fish ladder by Blackweir bridge almost inundated. The field of football pitches to the north west side of the bridge was filled with an unusually large number of white gulls with grey wings, a couple of thousand of them, all feeding in large groups and moving around the field. Our usual urban gulls are bigger and to see them in such very large numbers in one place ground feeding would be that typical, except at a rubbish dump. So I concluded after seeing photos on-line that they were herring gulls on the move between fishing spots, maybe thrown off course by the weather.

The bare trees in the avenue alongside Pontcanna Fields was thronged with several hundred birds, not so unusual just before sunset, although normally large numbers got to roost in woodland the other side of the Taff, and can be seen there in large numbers visible from afar. But not many starlings around at the moment. I wonder where they are? Walking past the two crab apple trees I noticed one tree had been stripped bare, and the other still had a lot of berries, higher than we could reach when we harvested fruit from the lower branches back in October. There were a dozen or so in the grass, unspoiled, so I picked them up and brought them home. It's a puzzle, that one tree should be stripped presumably by birds, and the other only raided by humans. The stripped one is closer to other trees, so the leaf cover would shield birds from predators while picking, whereas the other was more exposed, only worth the risk when food becomes really scarce later on.

In the evening I watched a police procedural drama on ITV based on a real life murder called 'Honour' and the difficulties of investigating the honour killing of a twenty year old woman by members of her family, including her father and an uncle of Iraqi Kurdish origin. Painful to watch, and to think that it's not uncommon for long standing residents of Britain could harbour such violent and vengeful impulses towards family members, immune to the influence of a host community which offered them security freedom and self respect. Not that the UK is a stranger to its own variations on gender based violence, of course. How do we rid our world of every kind of interpersonal violence when it's so persistent. and the subject of so many games and movies that entertain us?

Coast path outing

No pancakes for breakfast today, just our usual breakfast after a lie-in. Mid morning, we drove over to Penarth and enjoyed a walk along the coast path, as far as the east side of Lavernock Point, and then we negotiated our way down a steep and muddy path to the beach to eat slices of Clare's bara brith washed down with a flask of coffee. Although there were magnificent dramatic cumulus clouds, the sun shone brightly and the air was so clear the coastline on the southern shore of the estuary opposite was sharply visible, making me wish I'd brought my DSLR camera with wide angled lens, but I brought only the Olympus, for which I don;t have that kind of lens. It did however produce some nice sharp photos in high contrast situations. It's a simple pleasure to handle and much lighter to carry. Additional lenses however, will be rather expensive to buy. I can't find any of interest available second hand.

We walked eight kilometres there and back, and Clare bought fish and chips for our lunch from the kiosk at the pier. I stayed with the car as we were just over the two hour stay allowed in our sea front parking place, and we'd noticed a couple of wardens patrolling and issuing fines a distance away. When I saw them turn in our direction, I drove the car around and met with Clare opposite the pier, just at the right time. then we parked on the headland overlooking Cardiff Bay. There'd been a brief shower as we neared the end of our walk, but the sun shone through clouds moving very slowly, producing a fine rainbow that persisted for the next fifteen minutes while we were driving home. Clouds were overhead, but both ends of the rainbow arc were visible over the townscape at the same time, a wondrous sight. I didn't bother to get the camera out, but just sat and enjoyed,  as Clare drove the final leg of the journey home from the Tesco filling station. That's our first tankful of petrol since the end of February, just 285 miles on the trip meter, two hundred of which were journeys to and from Bristol for treatments back in July-August.

After supper I watched the 2016 feminist re-make of the 1980's Ghostbuster movies, which is partly a homage to the original movies and partly satire on NYC disaster movies, with some hilarious slapstick sequences and feminist memes thrown in. Sheer entertaining scifi horror rubbish, perhaps even mocking nostalgically the original, which became something of a cult movie. Dan Akroyd who produced, I think, as well as starring in the original, also produced this one, and made a vignette appearance as a tough Yellow Cab driver in the midst of the crisis saying "I ain't afraid of no ghost", his catchphrase in the original script. When Owain was about eight years old we had a Ghostbusters home computer game, which Owain enjoyed. I think I may have taken all three of them to see the first movie. After that, the much darker, violent last double episode of 'The Valhalla Murders' on BBC Four, with high level police corruption, murder and child abuse revealed as interlinked in the Icelandic winter.  It was complex and not always easy to follow. Fine for feeding pessimism about sheer human nastiness, as opposed to the kind of weakness leading haphazardly to crime which is often the picture painted in crime movies these days. 

Next week, the final series of Parisian flic series 'Spiral' begins. Fast moving, more daylight, and a mix of nastiness and weakness, integrity and corruption in the French legal system and law enforcement. It's been running with the same principal actors for fifteen years and is to my mind a masterpiece of social and moral comment on pour post-modern world.

Cardiif Christmas story

Late last night I started working on my own e-greeting Christmas card to send out with out annual round robin letter, when a newsy email arrived with a photo of a Nativity scene which caught my attention and ended up being used to complete the greeting. 

The email was from Sally Jumble Jackson, the dynamo behind the Cardiff Nativity story initiative, a  pageant put on by a group of volunteers she recruited. It started the year I retired. St John's City Parish Church was asked to host an event in which children from schools around the city would visit the church to see this happening with an all adult cast of presenters dressed in traditional biblical garb throughout Advent. A hugely ambitious and seemingly impossible project to realise, but not one which St John's could make space for given the demands made to use the church for institutional carol services and charity concerts in December. 

Fortunately Tabernacl Baptist church just down the street on the Hayes was able to offer hospitality, and each year for the past decade it has been a huge success, drawing thousands of children and catalysing similar events in churches across the region. This year it's not been possible for a repeat performance to take place, but with a wonderful spark of imagination, a half life size puppet show version has been staged and toured around schools, at times when covid safety restrictions have been imposed. It's an inspired piece of creative thinking, and very much a grass roots creative initiative by Christian lay folk.

Sally's motivation at the outset arose from realising how little the bible is taught in schools today, and how ignorant of the Christmas story the majority of children not raised in Christian families are, even if the schools put on a Nativity Play, which few do anyway, giving multicultural secularity as an excuse for tackling something 'too hard' to achieve in a pressured curriculum, even at Primary level. 

It's been a grey damp day. I've started on putting together the Christmas cards and letters for posting and I still have to make a start on sending the digital equivalents, but no progress has been made today. I had a funeral this morning at St John's, my first in church during the covid era. The distancing arrangements work well there as the seating is flexible. Though I asked people to leave by the west door and not follow the coffin out of the north door, the congregation was on auto-pilot and did what they habitually do. I had to drive the car to church first and then up to Western Cemetery for the burial. 

Being a bit nervous about this and wanting to be at church early, I walked out of the house with neither of my phones and without a face mask. Fortunately one of the funeral directors had a couple of spares in his car, which saved having to send out the a nearby shop to get one. And all this because it was raining. It meant I had to revert to wearing a raincoat from wearing my old ski jacket (oddly it was also six degrees warmer than yesterday) and my masks were in the coat I was wearing yesterday, not the raincoat. I was rather annoyed with myself, but pleased, given how little driving I have done in the past year, at how comfortable it is to sit in the car without a support cushion these days than it has been at any time in the past two years. That's progress. 

It rained in the cemetery, and I was loaned a big golf style umbrella in purple with Pidgeon's the funeral directors name running around the rim. Stylish colour to go with an alb! One of the cemetery attendants told me was on holiday in Benidorm when the estadio de alarma was pronounced. The tour company did well to rearrange home flights pronto, his tour group's main hassle was getting a coach willing to take them to Alicante airport with roadblocks in place, and at that early stage lots of enforcement action on the autovia. I guess right at the start, permits paperwork and an inspection regime were only just being introduced, enough to make any commercial driver nervous indeed. But they got home OK, and he came back to his sad job of course, as a key public sector worker.

By the time I had lunch the rain stopped, for long enough to allow me to complete my afternoon walk in the park before it started again. After supper I spent a couple of hours weeding out redundant emails to increase my Google free space available, rather than pay for more storage. Then I watched the second in the 'Nordic Murders' series before writing this and turning in for the night.

Eco-parable

I went to the Eucharist at St John's this morning and then went to Tesco's to buy a HP printer ink cartridge for Clare. I was astonished at how expensive they now are, unless I suppose you buy one on-line from an official seller. Mother Frances spoke again about the Ministry Area merger, which again got me thinking. She spoke from the scriptures of the day about the difference small things can make, (e.g. grains of wheat,  mustard seeds) and how every small contribution from a disciple of Christ adds up to great things. Agreed, so why is bigger better when it comes to proposed ministry areas? 

Among biblical references to agriculture, fields occur several times. Breaking down field boundaries and walls isn't a part of planned growth. Destruction by enemies of a land owner is part of a plan to degrade undermine and subject people to the power of others. It happens all the time in the struggle for control in business and politics, so it seems unfortunate when it becomes a strategy for institutional survival. 

The church has seen its far share of political tensions and conflicts between conservatives and liberals when it comes to accepting and acting in response to social change. Can't we come up with a better way to build, nurture, maintain church communities? If church decline leads to weakness and death, that would be nothing new in history. It's a natural process, more like ecological and biological processes than man-made management designs and strategies. Within our own West Cardiff Ministry area is the ruin of a mediaeval church on a hilltop where once there was a village, and before that an Iron Age settlement. Once the river plain on which the city stands developed with industry the old hamlet on the hill died out. 

Cultural rather than demographic change has lead to the demise of the church in our time, but which church communities will die and which will come through decline remains to be seen. I don't think we really understand well enough the evolutionary process we are living through. But why not just let it happen, rather than try and fix things with another pastoral reorganisation?

On my walk in Pontcanna Fields this afternoon, the length of west bank of the Taff this afternoon, was being cleared of undergrowth and saplings, a zealous crop to say the least, perhaps the  first for a decade. I imagine that this is seen as a flash flood prevention measure, since river bank trees and bramble patches snag floating detritus, and hinder water flow. If detritus builds up along river banks, flood water will back up and burst the banks. 

We had such an incident back in February this year. So lessons have been learned. Birds and bunnies lose out at first, it's inevitable, due to habitat loss, but there are other wild areas close by. Come the spring, the brambles will grow back and stumps of the waterside willows will sprout fresh shoots to provide a perch for the few kingfishers along the river. For the first time in more than a month a heron was perched on the east bank witnessing clearance work. Bute Park side of the river is still a mess. I wonder to what extent clearance work will take place over there in weeks to come? Urban development has altered the course of the river from the days when much of the plain was tidal wetland, so it needs much maintenance to prevent flooding, not least because natural growth and decline, for better or worse, never ceases. It's an environmental lesson modern church leadership fails to take seriously.

Time, place and context

There were ten of us for the midweek Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. Mother Frances spoke to us about the imminent formation of the new West Cardiff Ministry Area, grouping Canton Benefice with the Parishes of Glanely, Caerau with Ely and Fairwater. The existing benefices will be legally dissolved to merge into one Parish six historic parishes, in what will be, in effect, one giant Rectorial Benefice of the kind now commonplace in many rural areas of Britain. Incumbent clerics will be licensed as priests in charge, and the status of curates and NSM will be much the same, except that they may be required to work across old borders I suppose, not that it doesn't happen now when need arises. 

Mother Frances is Team Leader designate. What a job to take on when she's only been here a year and two months. It's a new role and it will involve a great deal of admin given seven church buildings and a team of seven clerics and heaven know how many lay people in voluntary or paid specialised roles to manage. I'm sure she's capable enough to do the job, but she came to us because she wanted to return to parochial life from a diocesan role which by its nature would have involved much admin. Out of the frying pan into the fire, unfortunately.

Never has there been a time when collaborative ministry his more necessary to care for people in a geographical area of about eighty thousand people, of whom less than a thousand may be committed contributing churchgoers. Far more people than those who believe enough to attend look to the church for rites of passage and support in times of crisis, let alone those who engage with church youth and educational undertaking, and this dimension tends to be quite locally based, although not exclusively. It's hard to see how a wholesale reformation of institutional structures is going to work out. 

The structures we have represent the consolidation of historically based missionary enterprises. Church planting went on from ancient times in Wales. It started with the christianizing of pagan holy sites, or with monastic settlements set up near trade routes, which later grew into towns. From Norman times the sub-division of territory into parochial areas was imposed by the state, and fragments of many historic boundaries still remain as part of Church in Wales diocesan maps. Some larger ancient territories were subdivided or merged since the reformation due to the demise of settlements in one place and emergence of new ones elsewhere. 

When urban populations expanded during the industrial revolution, new parishes were carved out of the old, and church planting went ahead at a phenomenal rate in an effort to meet the pastoral needs of the masses. In this century when the masses have turned their backs on the church, the assets of a former generation have become today's liability. Cardiff has less than half of the salaried clergy it had when I returned from Europe eighteen years ago, and a quarter to a fifth of the membership. Certainly radical measures are required when the institutional church is dying, but we have no idea of what a resurrection of the church could look like. 

Church structures and the people who serve them can be tinkered with and altered, but plans fail when circumstances change and how we've witnessed this during the pandemic! Planning is essential, but it's vital to focus around qualities and values. How can ministers and communities become more resilient and flexible, creative in response to change? What's needed to make a worshipping body sustainable if not re-grow from scratch, in the absence of resources? Where do we start while things are still falling apart? Questions I've pondered on for years. The response so much depends on time, place and context.

Biblical metaphors that relate to the propagation of the Gospel are chiefly organic and to cultivation - parables relating to fields, seeds whose form must die to flourish and be fruitful, tiny things that grow into big things, trees and bushes that need pruning. Time, place and context, i,e, environment, are all essential, and it seems to me that grand plans, however well informed and designed, may not achieve all that has been achieved by piecemeal effort, starting with individual responses. It's not about resources. "Silver and gold have I none." said St Peter when he dived straight into healing ministry soon after Pentecost. And St Francis standing in the ruined chapel of Porziuncula, hearing the Lord say to him "Francis rebuild my church!" and then picking up first of many scattered stones to add to a broken wall. The spontaneous expansion of the church in China and Africa happened through the actions of untrained laity, whether or not they've had clergy leadership or support. Growth actually slowed down when clergy were imported to head up the mission in places where it was already well under way. A church which is clerically top heavy in leadership may be doomed to extinction. I hope we don't lose sight of such lessons from scripture and missionary tradition.

Having cooked and eaten lunch, I fetched this week's organic veg bag, then walked in the park for an hour, and got back at sunset. Then, Clare and I sat and watched the last three episodes of 'Fear by the Lake', which turned out not to be about countering bio-terrorist plot, but a psychotic primary school teacher on a personal revenge mission. A bit far fetched, although the portrayal of the the response by the major incident medical emergency response team showcased medics and the gendarmerie working at fictional pace to establish city wide lockdown, deal with violent incidents and get a field hopsital up and running by the end of day two. An experimental antidote was knocked up at fictional lightning speed by a top expert in under a day. Would that real life could be fast forwarded to a happy ending like a movie.

There was a telling mini-story line in which a group of a dozen or so asylum seekers escaped from their lock-down at a reception centre and presented themselves for duty at the gendarmerie field hospital, as each of them had been doctors or nurses in their home countries. A neat piece of movie fiction advocacy to champion the cause of asylum seekers to work and be useful in their place of refuge. It's a hot potato political issue across Europe and beyond. 

It was a good watch and less difficult to get the gist of what was going on (with or without the subtitles) because the past ten months have exposed us all to the vocabulary of medical statistics in a way without precedent. Not so much a feel-good movie, but one perhaps to make us feel less bad. We'll get to where we wish we were, eventually.

Prescience

A cold, dry and cloudy day again, good walking weather, but I didn't get out until after lunch. I thought I'd take my Olympus and Sony HX90 cameras out with and take the same shot of scenes using both to compare and contrast their abilities. It was an interesting exercise. The Olympus takes better quality photos, but is limited in versatility by the need to carry several different lenses to achieve wide-angled or distance shots, which one telephoto lens can. The Sony doesn't always respond as consistently or as quickly to changing conditions, and its shots aren't as sharp, but then it doesn't have the same image stabilisation capability to achieve this.

Seven saplings, silver birch and beech, I think, have been planted in a row at the end nearest Penhill, in front of the gap resulting from the felling of elderly trees as part of the smart terraced housing area development replacing a Victorian mansion last owned by the Council's social services department. It'll be decades before they flourish and add to the park's tree-lined periphery.

I  reached home again by sunset and checked the evening's telly programme guide. Not much of interest, but on Channel 4's Waler Presents, I found a new French flic series to watch, the third in a row with the same lead characters in the setting of Lake Annecy, a familiar place to us from family holidays and from day trips in our Geneva days. This one was eerily different, it turned out, when Clare and I sat down to watch an episode after supper. A poor multi-racial housing estate becomes the epicentre for an ebola outbreak, but it seems there's a crime afoot. Either a mad man or a bio-terrorist incident is at work. By the end of the third episode, all watched in one compelling sitting, it's still unclear. The dramatic portrayal of how the virus spreads hapazardly and spills out of the area is quite striking, though how accurate it is an epidemiology expert would best be able to declare. This is what  makes it so watchable. 

What is unexpected about this is the timing. It's not cashing in on the pandemic. It was first aired on RTF in January of this year, several weeks before the covid-19 pandemic was declared. It was made in 2019, reflecting the 'what if' speculation after the African ebola epidemic which started in 2018. I hope it gets viewed widely, simply because it show how easily contagion spreads, without benefit of mysterious power-point charts or maps that are hard to decode. I have yet to hear of this being reviewed by the mass media pundits. I wonder why?

Vaccination marathon at the start line

At bed time last night I took off my Fitbit for re-charging. It only takes about an hour, and I can rely upon waking up every couple of hours, to retrieve it and wear it again. Yes, I wear it at night as it has its motion sensing chip is programmed to monitor sleep patterns, an interesting thing to review from time to time. In fact I slept longer than usual and forgot to put it back on until gone six. So according to the smartwatch app, I only slept an hour. This reading can happen once a week, but the Fitbit and the app doesn't admit the need to re-charge. When it sends me my weekly health review, my sleep time average is reported as seven hours instead of the 'recommended' eight, even though I usually sleep eight hours plus every night. Worse still, it sends a digital reproach telling me I'm not getting enough sleep. Smart monitoring? What a joke!

It's been a cold day, so I switched over to my ancient padded ski jacket for my daily exercise, and in doing so left my keys in the pocket of my rain jacket. Before heading to the park, I took a kilo of used batteries to recycle in Tesco Metro after lunch, then had a much needed haircut, my first for three months. On the way to the park I called in at home, and that was when I realised I didn't have my keys. Clare had already gone out for her walk of the day. Oops! But never mind, she's more than likely to be there when I return as she doesn't walk for as long as I do. Changing coats tends to be a nightmare if you rely heavily on pockets rather than a bag to carry your stuff around, as I do. 

Today, the first batch of covid-19 vaccines arrived in Welsh hospitals, as they did all over the rest of the UK thanks to a phenomenally efficient logistic operation which has brought supplies from Belgium over the weekend, flown in I believe by military transport. Initially, medical and care workers will receive their jabs starting from tomorrow, then most susceptible people by virtue of their age or medical condition. Half the population of Wales should receive the vaccine by Easter next year. Meanwhile, cases continue to rise in Wales whose infection rate is now the highest in the UK. 

No idea when Clare and I will get vaccinated, and it's clear that no matter when that happens, our present lifestyle and precautions will need to continue well beyond gaining hoped for immunity, and the decimation of the infection rate. I don't think this is understood very widely yet, perhaps because mixed messages conveyed by the government and tabloid press tend to raise false hopes of an early return to normality. This may be the beginning of the end, but as the top medics are saying, "This isn't a sprint, but a marathon" And one could add that it's a marathon over an obstacle course. 

Vaccinating half to two thirds of the UK population is not only complex to deliver through a winter with all its weather hazards, there's also brexit from the end of this month promising major disruption to the transport of goods internationally putting the food supply chain as well as industrial productiveness at risk. Unemployment is already rising due to known uncertainities. If the economy collapses, resulting in increased poverty and deprivation, it will exacerbate existing conditions favourable to the spread of virus contagion. Brexit is destined to undermine the resilience and health of the population, just as it needs all possible help to recover. As scripture says "Without a vision the people perish", and even more so when vision is blurred and blinded by lies and false promises.

An hour after sunset, I think I caught a glimpse of Saturn and Jupiter appearing in close proximity to each other above the south eastern horizon, so close that to the unaided eye and a poorly configured camera, they appear as one bright light. It wasn't for long as high level cloud soon moved in obscuring stars and planets alike, I wonder if weather will permit a proper look before the end of the month as this conjunction of planets that hasn't been seen on earth for nearly 800 years? Maybe I'll have time to learn how to optimise the capabilities of my cameras and their telephoto lenses, tripod mounted.

Urban Centenary celebrated

How nice to be able to wake up without a video upload to do before breakfast, and being able to lie in bed and listen to the Radio Four Sunday service. This week it was from Welwyn Garden city, celebrating the centenary of its beginning as a new concept in town planning. It was led by Rob Marshall, Rector of Digswell a parish of that city and a regular Radio Four Thought for the Day speaker. 

Fortunately, it was again a sunny morning for our walk to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist. There were thirty of us there today. We added our dear friend Martin into the intercessions, as he's in hospital being treated for covid-19, as if he wasn't already vulnerable enough after his colostomy op. 

I took my Sony Alpha 68 out for an afternoon walk, to see if I could get even better photos of the sunset, as today's weather conditions were much like yesterday's. What you can do in post processing never quite improves enough what's seen, to my satisfaction. Before supper we watched the final episode of 'The Announcer', and then I uploaded my photos and edited them. It seems to me that whatever camera you use in a high contrast lighting environment it's always demanding on the camera and challenging for the user. The digital illusion never matches the face to face visible glory. 'NOw we see through a glass darkly ..."