Beyond credibility

It was one degree when I woke up this morning and overcast. By the time I'd had breakfast and prayed my way through Matins and the Eucharist on my own, light snow was starting to fall, so I went for a walk and took some photos. It wasn't cold enough for the snow to stick for long, but it looked pretty and it was such a delightful change to walk in. The parks were very busy with people looking more cheerful than usual, enjoying the respite from the seemingly endless rain we've had all through January. 

By mid afternoon, when I went out again snow had become light drizzle and though the temperature had only gone up two degrees it felt even chillier. While I walked, I listened to Choral Evensong on my phone with the BBC Sounds app. BBC live outside broadcasts have continued since the first on 7th October 1926 and is the longest live outside broadcast series running.  The pandemic has disrupted but not put an end to this tradition. They are now fewer and further between for health and safety if not logistical reasons. Recourse is made to the Beeb's vast archive of recorded services. Today it was a service recorded in St Paul's Cathedral on 26th January 2015. It's not the same as having the actual liturgy of the day - a bit like having yesterday's toast you might say, like all re-runs of recorded worship services. It makes Choral Evensong, more a sacred concert, but it'll do. 

The quality of the recording from St Paul's was exceptionally good. The audio recording infrastructure may be a permanent feature which the Beeb attaches to its network. There's a long echo to contend with, but the microphones are well positioned for maximum clarity. I could hear clearly the words of both the Psalms and Canticles sung, and the hear the echo during the pauses in the chant. From some Cathedrals the sound is muddy or distant due to the building acoustic and microphone positioning. So this service was an audio treat, and I found it was easy to pray along with as I walked without distraction away from traffic. It's amazing how the noise of car tyres on the road swamps the sound emitting from a pair of headphones. We're used to this, our brains filter it out, what a waste of energy. When lock-down greatly restricted all road and air traffic, many people commented on how peaceful the world became. It doesn't take long for the noise to return. Such a pity.

I whiled away the late afternoon watching the rest of the Norwegian 'Monster' crimmie. I'm still trying to figure out who murdered whom and what the relationship was between the fundamentalist Christian sect and an esoteric nature cult. They don't call it a 'mystery' for nothing, but my main criticism was the reality of some of its scenes. Two mildly obese sexegenarian men tumble out of a sauna naked and fight on snow packed ground until they knock each other out or faint with exhaustion. Night passes and at least one of them is alive enough to get in his car naked and drive himself to hospital where he's put into intensive care and lives to tell the tale. Frostbite? Thermal shock or Hypothermia surely? No evidence. 

Then two women fight on the surf at the edge of the sea, and get soaking wet. One of them walks into the ocean, and when the other realises she walks back into the sea fully clad in cold soaked clothing looking to rescue the other. She's as skinny as a rake, and not shivering or teeth chattering. Then there's the cop who tampers twice with evidence to avoid sanction for drug taking and an accidental shooting, entering a forensic lab and later a morgue undetected, both unlocked and not covered by CCTV. All ridiculous. If there is a second series. the only reason to watch it would be to see how many more totally implausible scenes there are, and pour scorn on.

Then, after supper more proper telly drama with David Attenborough's essays on threats to our planet from climate change, and another episode of the slightly bizarre bereavement drama verging on sitcom 'Finding Alice'. That's rather an overdose of TV. I was four months without telly in Ibiza and didn't miss it. Perhaps I should give it up for Lent.