Software annoyance

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning with ten others, observing yesterday's Feast of St Peter and Paul. On the way home, I collected the week's veggy bag from the drop-off place, then cooked lunch, as Clare had a morning meeting in school. I needed a siesta afterwards, before going to Beanfreaks to collect the groceries Clare ordered, while she got on with making and bottling the strawberry jam. She said the strawberries were over-ripe, and the end product was a little more runny than she hope for, but to me it still tasted delicious.

Finally I settled down to record and edit Morning Prayer for tomorrow, but when it came to making it into a video slideshow on my new laptop, the Windows 10 Video Editor would not allow me to use the photos I had edited, and I don't know why. I had to revert to using a different video editor Movie Maker with the same photos and audio on my old slow desktop machine, and this worked as it ever did. The Video Editor app on this machine also worked using the same material when I checked later. I have a feeling that there's a slightly different version of the software, or operating system and it's behaving obstructively. Typical of Windows. If it can screw things up and annoy you to the point of despair it will. At least tomorrow's video is now safely uploaded to YouTube, ready for the morning, even if it did take far longer than I expected to finish the job.

It was nearly nine when I went out to the park to clear my head and complete my walk for the day. Clouds in the sky were beautiful shades of pink and grey. I notice two pairs of policemen walking around the edge of Llandaff Fields in opposite directions - looking for miscreants or homeless people camping I wonder?

Wasted viewing time

I slept quite well last night and woke up at six thinking I had an hour and a half to snooze before listening to 'Thought for the Day'. The next time I looked at the clock it was eight fifteen, half an hour too late to hear it live. I'm most thankful for the BBC Sounds app, enabling me to catch-up. It's go easier and easier to use as it has developed over the past decade. Streaming BBC broadcast content, audio and video began fourteen years ago, and has become very comprehensive and sophisticated beneath its several changes of name and appearance since then. A triumph for free public service broadcasting. I'd be lost without it.

For lunch, I cooked a spicy chickpea and veggy stew with potatoes, then walked for an hour and a half around the Fields. Another overcast but mild day. Outside the SWALEC stadium were were lots of parking stewards in hi-viz jackets hanging about, waiting for cars to arrive and park for which I presume is an evening cricket match. There were no signs yet of spectators arriving on foot. BBC news is driving me crazy, obsessing about tonight's soccer game between England and Germany. Meanwhile, Wimbledon and cricket get relegated. 

It's as if we our faces are being thrust into the hype around the Big Game, as if it represented something significant for the future of the country post-brexit. There's been so many backward glances at the 1966 World Cup final in which England beat Germany. I find it quite disturbing, subtle propaganda surrounding justification for leaving the EU, insinuation that Britain is better than all of them over the Channel, as the heavy price for departure is already starting to be paid, politically and economically. A slow awakening is taking place to the reality of the deceit. You can't fool all of the people all of the time.

We had a call from Owain this afternoon. He's taking a few days of his week's leave making techno tracks with a mate in a recording studio with a view down in Devon, then coming to us to celebrate his birthday on the weekend. At least, that was the plan. His NHS app pinged him for having been in contact with a covid infected person - he thinks it's a vinyl record store owner in Bristol. He now has to self isolate for five days when he returns to Bristol tomorrow, and won't be with us for his birthday after all. We're all disappointed. Another Zoom or WhatsApp birthday party instead, but no means to get a cake to share with him on the day. At least, he doesn't think he's infected, but he'll have to get tested at the end of his quarantine period, before normality can take hold again. What bad luck. 

Since I bought the Honor laptop the Friday before going to Aberaeron and installed the essential apps that I bought it to be able to use better, I've not switched it on and used it, despite taking it with me. Doing a full Windows 10 setup with one's own accounts take time and concentration. On purchase, the laptop was set up for a single user, independently of any Microsoft account, an option when a factory reset is done if you don;t want to commit the device to an account holder with an established file system. The task I have been putting off since setting it up initially was to make the laptop an account holder to the same account as I have on my desktop machine. It took me over an hour to work out how to do this and get it to mirror my desktop. 

I'm pleased with it now. It's quick and has a beautiful crisp display. I can now consider converting my desktop machine to Linux Mint. It will never run Windows as quickly as the laptop unless I change the hard drive for a SSD, I'm not sure how to do that. Besides, it's unlikely to run as fast as a much younger laptop with higher specifications. On the other hand, I've already found at that the desktop will run much faster using Linux Mint, as its not as dependent on high specification hardware. Windows 11 is about to be released, and I get the impression that it may not work or maybe work less well on my desktop device, but I'm confident of a better outcome and a longer life for a five year old machine using Linux. It's a matter of finding time to do the job.

Clare returned from her afternoon walk with four pounds of strawberries, on special offer at the Co-op. After supper I got to work preparing them for cooking, a very pleasant task enveloped in the aroma of fresh summer fruit. Fruit is now stewed, jam tomorrow!

After supper I finished watching 'Time is the killer' - not so much a psychological thriller as promoted as a complex whodunnit with some surprising twists. The whole story could have been told in six rather than eight episodes, to prevent boredom setting in. The worst aspect was actually the implausibility of the central narrative thread, entailing the forcible abduction and incarceration in isolation of an innocent bereaved mother presumed killer for 25 years, without her going insane or succeding in escaping. Worse still, her face has no sign of ageing despite her long grey hair, and she looks acceptably clean and tidy in her secret prison. Totally incredibly ridiculous. And this key element of stupidity was evident from episode five of eight. Pathetic.

Fiction - reflecting or interrogating reality?

Another good night's sleep, walking up to cool and cloudy weather, and an hour's walk before cooking an early lunch. Then I drove Clare over to Chris' salon in Rumney for a haircut, and on return watched two episodes of the French thriller 'Time is a killer'. The Corsican scenery in which the drama is set is very colourful, but the production doesn't make good use of available techniques to display different scenes set twenty five years apart. 

There isn't enough of a visual difference between the two. Colour in older scenes contains slightly over-saturated reds, sepia or even grey-scale tinting would work better in contrast to contemporary scenes more naturally tinted with a  more natural blues and greens. The result is confusing as more effort is required to remember who's who and what age they're meant to be. It's another one of those convoluted inter generational mafia vengeance type stories. Does it reflect reality or an exotic stereotype of traditional cultures? Ah well, it's something to pass the time and avoid getting on with work in hand, I suppose.

Later on, the penultimate episode of season sixteen of NCIS with Gibbs walking out in a crisis, leaving his team to solve a case without him while he tries to come to terms with unfinished business from his own past personal life. He's looking older, and there's talk about retirement and what he wants when his career is over. It marks the start of his diminishing role as leader in the crime solving team, a fading away which continues for more than three dozen episodes broadcast and into season 19 still being made, having been disrupted by the pandemic. 

Amazing that the series has been running for eighteen years. Of the original first series cast only Mark Harmon, David McCallum and Sean Murray remain. Murray played a callow young geek, and is now the middle aged senior agent. The other two started as middle aged senior agents and are now elder statesmen, so to speak. While it falls far short of The Archers, running for seventy five years and still going strong, NCIS and its stories, many of them with concerns relating to emerging new technologies is an interesting portrayal of issues reflecting life in the new millennium. 

No more lies

A really long sleep, and then a brisk breakfast to be ready to walk over to St Luke's to preach, while Fr Rhys celebrated. For the first time since the pandemic took hold he were officially allowed to sing hymns again - behind our masks. There were sixteen of us in a church that can holy two hundred and fifty. I think it will wake a while to get back into the habit of singing heartily. I had some favourable comments about my rather sober reflective sermon afterwards. It's difficult to know how to be a sort of spiritual cheerleader when the world is in such a mess. How to be appropriately penitential in thought, word and deed is what we must now learn.

When we returned yesterday Clare picked a pound of blackcurrants from the plants in her garden, enough for a couple of dishes of blackcurrant and apple crumble, one of my most favourite dishes. After salmon and roast veggies for lunch we had a first serving of what is to my mind one of the tastiest of all puddings. Normally I don't bother at all with pudding, but blackcurrant and apple crumble I find irresistible!

I walked for over an hour in the park after lunch, surprised at how few people were out compared to the usual Sunday afternoon. It was cloudy, mild and a little windy - were people staying indoors to watch a football match? Or gone to the beach, I wonder?

After the weekend's exposure of health secretary Matt Hancock, caught on camera kissing one of his aides behind locked doors, spied upon by a secret camera, he has announced his resignation and the end of his marriage in one statement. But not before Boris Johnston had refused to sack him and insisted this was of no importance to the job in hand. He totally misjudged the growing mood of indignation from the public and from some fellow Tory MPs openly calling on Hancock to resign. Naturally an enquiry is now taking place to discover not only who put the camera there, but how the security video footage was leaked to the news media. As if the affair of Dominic Cummings breaking lockdown rules wasn't enough to expose the belief of the ruling elite that they are exceptions to the the rules they make. The Prime Minister's error of judgement undermines the credibility of his government. How long will he last after this?

When I got back from my walk, there was a Radio Four investigative programme called 'File on Four' which reported on an exchange of emails involving Cummings and Hancock around the time the first UK lock-down was imposed, in which a piece of work was commissioned from a health statistics company to monitor pandemic data independently of work already being carried out by another quasi NHS body that is working on digitzing NHS services. The exchange of emails concerned a sum of half a million pounds in advance of work to be commissioned immediately (because of the crisis) without any scrutiny process in place about the objectives or outcome of the work or its value for money. 

Moreover, this was to happen secretly without proper government consultation and presented as a fait accompli, justified by the urgency of the situation. The scandal of undermining good governance is augmented by the fact that there seem to be a certain conflict of interest due to the relationships between the service providers and Hancock. It will be interesting to see how this plays out in the news this coming week. Already the government has come in for serious criticism about irresponsible and erroneous expenditure in the procurement of PPE in the first critical months of the pandemic. 

As a weekend op-ed in the Guardian stated today, lies, deceit and false promises which resulted in the success of the brexit vote laid a foundation for the perpetuation of this culture in the ensuing years. Not only does it undermine the credibility of the government, but in removing the possibility of honest discourse on issues which require thorough and well informed debate, it undermines the whole democratic process. I can only hope and pray that citizens generally will awaken to this disturbing nature of this damaging reality and start demanding a return to more honourable and honest ways in public service.

This evening I watched the first episode of a French psychological thriller on More Four Walter Presents, in between phone calls with Owain and Rachel. This one's set in Corsica, and the French is clear and very easy to follow, which makes for easy watching, as the sub-titles are less than essential.

Niche store

We got up at six thirty to give ourselves time for breakfast, cleaning up and packing. By a quarter to nine we were retracing our journey home across country to Carmarthen and then on the A48 and M4 to Cardiff. It wasn't a difficult journey, but losing sleep, getting up so early wasn't the most relaxing and pleasant of experiences, and left us both feeling tired and tense for the rest of the day. It still seems to take me most of the morning to recover fully from sleep and feel normal. 

We made a detour by way of Bridgend to seek out the remaining 'Cartridge World' shop still open in South Wales was to be found, so that I could buy a lazer print cartridge. I guess that most people have switched to buying supplies of consumables on-line these days, but there's still going to be a nice market supplying ink cartridges for older models of printer like mine, now more than ten years old and still going string. I had hoped for a branded HP cartridge to avoid Windows incompatibility problems, but was only able to obtain a compatible generic one, the the storekeeper assured me should work. I hope he's right.

We arrived home just after eleven, and after unpacking had a cooked lunch. Our travel picnic sandwiches we kept back to eat at supper. Then a walk in the park, and a final attempt to revise my special Climate Sunday sermon. In the evening, we watched a superb live on-line performance from the RWCMD of Beethoven's Razumowski string quartet. It proved a welcome relaxation after the demands of an early day, and getting to bed on time for once.

Masterpiece contemplated

As we woke up this morning to grey skies, there was what sounded like raindrops pounding sporadically on the roof above our attic bedroom. Outside however, the was no evidence that rain was falling or had fallen since yesterday evening. On the flat roof below the window were a couple of dozen starlings, and many more on other roofs nearby. Some took flight, circled around and then settled for a while before finally heading off to hunt for breakfast. 

The strange noise from above our heads was made by the birds' clawed feet as they landed or shifted around. Fourteen miles north of here is Aberystwyth Pier, whose iron skeleton provides a night roosting place for hundreds of thousands of starlings, and their murmurations are an unequalled local spectacle. Not all starlings in the region flock to Aberystwyth at night it seems. In fact, yesterday afternoon for about ten minutes a group of a hundred or so starlings took to the air and did some formation flying over the port, but then dispersed.

After breakfast we walked again up the Aeron riverside path for three quarters of an hour before turning back, to be in good time for our lunch booking at Hive. We started with a dish of whitebait between us, then Clare had hake with a cockle sauce, and I went for spicy roasted cauliflower with couscous, raisins and roasted almonds, Moroccan style washed down with Butty Bach ale. Most enjoyable.

The wind was quite strong when I walked around the harbour and then along the coast path northwards. The tide had just turned, and I was amazed at how the wind forced the sea through the harbour mouth in six foot high waves. The bed of the harbour only had river water flowing out on one side, and all the boats were high and dry. As I walked along the quay, in came the water, and in twenty minutes all but the bigger of the boats were afloat again. Waves pounded on both sides of the sea wall sending plumes of spry into the air. I took pictures of this but almost all were out of focus. Walking again with Clare after supper we saw gulls feeding on small fish washed in by the waves, but again all my pictures were blurred, but not really motion blur, but rather as if the camera autofocus couldn't compute the correct focal length for the aimed for shot. Was this to do with ambient light conditions? Or had I inadvertently changed a camera setting that I don't understand without realising? Research is needed.

We watched a channel five programme with Andre Marr talking about about Rembrandt's masterpiece 'The Night Watch', explaining its significance as a national treasure for the Dutch, and how it symbolises key elements in their national identity and self understanding. There was a programme on the radio several months ago with a similar subject. I'm not sure if it was himself or someone else, but it caught my interest, and it was great to see the painting and hear it explained in detail. Currently the painting is being restored in situ and remarkably in full view of the public. A large glass enclosure surrounds the painting which also encloses the restorers workshop, and lift platform which enables them to work on the canvas, cleaning and retouching at close quarters. It's a measure of how important the painting is to citizens that hundreds come each day to see the work in progress.

Work has been going on all week on resurfacing the public car park opposite in a piecemeal fashion. Any time a car leaves now, a traffic cone is placed to block the spot. After our trip to Llanerchaeron House, we had to park on the street until the evening, and sneak back in to reclaim a parking space for our last couple of days. We'll be on our way home in the morning straight after breakfast, and won't have to lug our bags more than fifty yards to pack the car. I wonder if the council workers come in on a Saturday anyway?

St John's Day

As soon as I woke from a good night's sleep I published the link to Morning Prayer for the Nativity of St John the Baptist. For breakfast we had the scallops Clare bought yesterday, and Saturday pancakes two days early - we've be up and out of here early on the day itself, as there's an early departure time for this holiday let. 

The weather was cool and overcast again today with mist over sea and land for much of the day, and a few drops of rain in the evening. We walked around town inspecting restaurant menus before lunch, with the aim of eating out on our last day. We got a booking in the Hive eaterie on the quay we can see from our front window. The evening was already fully booked.

After lunch we walked north again along the coast path to Aberarth. For much of the way Clare chatted in Welsh with a fellow walker. The tide was further out than we've seen it all week not surprisingly as tonight the full Summer Equinox 'Strawberry' moon rises at ten. For the first time since we arrived I heard an oystercatcher cry in the distance. Low tide exposes a vast bedrock shelf covered in seaweed. It's half a kilometer to the sea from the coast path in places, no sand visible. Beyond the bedrock shelf I guess there's a sandy surface to the seabed in which the oystercatcher would hunt for food on the occasions when it's exposed.

After supper this evening we took our empty wine bottles to the bottle bank, and a full rubbish bag to a nearby container. One less task to do tomorrow evening when we're backing our bags. After a couple more episodes of 'Coroner', we watched a documentary about restoration work in Kensington Palace, which showcased the unique specialised work of a craftsman making huge gilded wooden candelabra for one of the state rooms, and training an apprentice. Apart from the fact that low maintenance electric lights now replace candles, the construction method used is the same as that used three hundred years ago when the originals were made. Curiously the originals were removed and disappeared without trace a century ago.

Llanerchaeron House

A cooler cloudy day today. After breakfast we drove inland to Llanerchaeron House a Regency country house designed by London architect John Nash in 1795, set in verdant parkland above the river Aeron, within a mile of where we reached in yesterday's walk. There's an ornamental lake, extensive farm buildings, a collection of antique agricultural machinery, and a 200m long walled garden, containing another kind of  collection - apple tree varietals from far and wide. The last owner to live here bequeathed the property and its furnishings to the National Trust having moved in after the first world war, so it's typical of an inter-war country gentleman's home. Down the land from the property is an 18th century parish church, bi-lingually advertising Sunday services.

We booked an arrival time-slot, permitting free entrance to the grounds. The small cafe restaurant, in a period piece corrugated iron green painted building next to the ticket office was serving food and drinks to visitors in a socially distanced outdoor picnic area. One way routes through house and garden were well signed, and visitors could move freely outdoors, only needing to queue for up to half an hour get into the house. It was lovely to see mostly voluntary staff happily welcoming visitors and sharing the story of the house, many of them were Welsh speakers.

Three hours of walking around the domain and having lunch al fresco left us both feeling tired, so we returned for a siesta, and then went for another walk around the far side of the port after tea. The tide was a long way out which gave an opportunity to walk down into the harbour bed and take a few photos of boats beached.

The fishmonger's stall on the quay was open today, and Clare bought some scallops and hake for supper, so fresh, so delicious - a delightful treat. Then I watched a couple of episodes of Canadian crimmie series 'Coroner' on More Four. I'm not convinced the complex story-lines add up when several key characters have mental health issues that would be bound to compromise their effectiveness in real life. 

Church response to climate crisis?

After breakfast and another slow motion start to the day, we decided to take a picnic lunch with us and follow the river Aeron up the wooded valley which climbs gently out of the town into the hills. It's possible to go this way to the Llanerchaeron National Trust owned 18th century manor house, with its superb collection of apple tree varietals, which we visited last eight years ago. Clare booked us on-line to go by car for a visit tomorrow, but we didn't think we could manage to walk there and back and do justice to a tour as well, so today we walked.

The first stretch out of the village has a tarmacked path, and is beautifully managed with seats and picnic tables. Then there's a longer slightly wilder stretch, with a gravel path, labelled 'Public Amenity Site. This was donated to Aberaeron Council by a local landowner forty years ago. The woodland river banks are reserved for fishing. Where the valley widens into meadows, these are still used for grazing and the path for cyclists and walkers is fenced in. We walked four and a half kilometres before stopping for lunch, and returning. Lovely, every step of the way. Yesterday's walk was more energetic. Today's was more on the flat but we both felt quite tired and were glad of a siesta on return.

After tea, we went down to the north beach. As it was mild and sunny, albeit cloudy, Clare was determined to go in for a swim, which she did, very briefly, giving her a pleasant sense of achievement. I cooked supper for us, and then we walked to the beach again to see the sun setting, although what we saw was no more than a long band of coloured cloud above the horizon. But we made the effort.

I received a message this afternoon to say that next Sunday's Eucharist is designated 'Climate Sunday' as part of an ecumenical gesture of concern/solidarity before the global conference on climate change to be held in Glasgow in September. Yesterday I drafted a sermon on the Trinity 5 readings, today I have to start again with a different set of readings. My first reaction towards the Church in Wales leadership is 'What took you so long?' The last ten years has seen church officers appointed to address environmental issues, but development has been rather slow, perhaps too demanding, when having to cope with the catastrophic decline in church membership. 

It's over thirty years since my eco-concerns first found expression in preaching. Often it felt like my words fell on deaf ears. I'd love to see the church move beyond the aspirational and inspirational approach to climate change to some serious data gathering about the total carbon footprint of all church activity, and facing the question of how much it's necessary to be surrender to make a real measurable contribution to carbon reduction. Nobody likes to see churches closed, but are we ready to consider carbon footprint as a major factor, when the church balance sheet usually dictates whether a place stays open or closes? I think that only determined radical action, and maybe sacrificing many more churches than we're comfortable with is ever going to look like a credible response and witness in the face of crisis by churches. We had to do it to curb the pandemic, but to save the planet?

Summer solstice

A slow and lazy start under a grey overcast sky. It's the longest day today. We went for a walk to the south beach in the morning and bought fish and chips for lunch on our way back. After a siesta, we walked southwards again on the coast path, half way to New Quay. Over the harbour we saw a buzzard circle and then dive to attack a gull unsuccessfully. The next time the bird circled overhead I got a few photos of it with my Olympus camera about 30 meters overhead. I was quite surprised at the good quality of the cropped image obtained after basic processing. I got another excellent image of a bird which flew out of a bush on to the beach nearby. I think it may have been a meadow pipit. The hedgerow along a part of the coast path was strewn with wild roses and honeysuckle, foxgloves and many other flowers we didn't know the names of. So beautiful.

I had an email from Michelle and Andy while I was out, asking if they could postpone Harry's christening for a month as they'd had a couple of family bereavements. I got in touch with Fr Phelim to discuss this, and found myself being asked if I was free to cover St German's services in August, in addition to doing the christening on the first. He actually finishes his ministry there the last Sunday in July, and then takes a month off to move house and take time out before starting as Area Dean of South West Birmingham. He'll be a great loss to the diocese. I'm pleased to be back looking after St German's again as often as needed as I have done three times previously when there have been breaks in ministry there.

This evening after uploading my third batch of photos, I watched the most recent episode of NCIS to reach channel 5USA - it's nearly the end of the penultimate series that has been made, and the winds of change are blowing. Gibbs looks his age (70-ish) and other key team members are looking more their age also. As happened with characters in the long running French crimmie 'Spiral' also. Time passes.

Worship away from home

After my late night walk, I started writing and stayed up later than intended. Not such a good idea as I was already tired, but there was no obstacle to sleeping late, so it was nearly ten by the time we had breakfast. The church we can see from out harbour facing window is Holy Trinity Parish Church, so we joined the congregation of two dozen there for the Parish Eucharist, and received a friendly welcome. They have a curate who's going to be ordained next Sunday. The Vicar has to be there to support her, so there won't be service in the Parish - that's how short of clergy we are to fill the gaps, although there may be a reason behind this. 

For the past forty years this parish has been influenced deeply by charismatic evangelical renewal, as have many other parishes in the West of St David's diocese. It's a lot less conventional in its liturgical offering of worship that we're accustomed to. Some parts of the Church in Wales modern language liturgy have been given quite a constructive makeover, I suspect above and beyond what the Bishop or the Welsh liturgical commission would approve of, but the changes are carefully thought out and aim to teach.

As with many churches pandering to modernity, digital display technology trumps aesthetics, with a huge screen obstructing the view of a beautiful Edwardian east window. As books are banished from worship as a result of covid precaution, everything is done on a carefully crafted Powerpoint presentation. Anyone asked to stand in for the Parish clergy has to be up to speed with the customary way of doing things in a church, and that can't be easy if you're unused to these innovations or extempore prayer during the set form of the liturgy.

I'm not at all averse to using choruses and ad-lib prayer in the liturgy, but when is enough enough? When there are no pregnant pauses or periods of silence to absorb the words of scripture or prayer, we risk lapsing into being 'poor little talkative Christianity'. Saying more than is needed risks hindering the action of the Spirit. I too am guilty of this - too many words when fewer would do. 

I guess the problem is that we're less than certain nowadays of the shared knowledge foundation of church going audiences. No RE in schools, fewer kids going to Sunday school and confirmation classes, far too much religious twaddle propagated in print and on the internet, as if your opinion or mine is as equal to the mind of the church expressed in two millennia of evolving tradition. In some ways we over-teach and in other ways, under-teach the essentials of disciplined moral and spiritual thinking. 

Back in the seventies much effort by different was put into developing approaches to catechesis, dialogical as much as didactic - Alpha courses, Cursillo, Catholic Catechumenate, Ignatian retreats etc, and these have proved effective where it has been possible to support them with suitable people and resources, but in an era of declining support it's much harder to sustain. 

Internet resources may be helpful, likewise literature, but they are no substitute for person to person conversation in search of divine truth. How do we earn the right to speak of God and share the Word that leads to life with family, friends, neighbours, colleagues, strangers? After sixty odd years since I realised the importance of this, I'm still trying to find a working answer.

After lunch, we went for a long walk north along the coast path to the lovely village of Llandewi Aberarth a feast of natural beauty, with a small river descending through the village from the escarpment above into the sea. We covered five miles and were pretty tired by the time we returned, but revived after an ice cream made with. honey. I took sixty pictures today, uploaded them and started writing. Neither of us had energy to watch the third and final episode of prison drama 'Time' tonight. A therapeutic dose of unpolluted sea air and sheer beauty has such a tranquillising effect.

Aberaeron arrival

We finished packing and loaded the car after our pancake breakfast and left for Aberaeron around midday. The roads weren't as busy as I'd expected and we did the journey along the M4 to Carmarthen, then north west into Ceredigion and much slower winding cross-country roads until we reached the coast near New Quay, then driving seven miles north to Aberaeron. It's a late 18th - early 19th century fishing port village, which saw early development as a coastal transport hub, with packet boats carrying mail and domestic goods between coastal towns before the advent of the railway line.

I remember passing through the town thirty five years ago on my way to Aberystwyth, when working for USPG. In those days most of the two centuries old buildings were the colour of the plain grey standstone of which they were made. Then the arrival of weatherproof colour paints on the domestic market let to a slow transformation of the town-scape just as happened in the Valleys after the demise of the coal industry. Now the facades are delightfully coloured in shades of blue, pink, yellow, and dark red, with the windows and their embellishments highlighted in white. Everywhere you look, the colours surprise and delight, set against the shades of green in surrounding woodland and fields.

We last visited here for a day trip while staying in a holiday cottage outside Cardigan in October 2008. It looked colourful even then, but continuing housing renovation has seen more brightly coloured facades grace the townscape. It's changed in another more significant way too, due to the pandemic. Restaurants and pubs which can have developed outdoor spaces for eating and drinking, some temporary but others looking as if they're here for the long term. This gives the streetscape a distinctly continental feel and it to my mind a real enhancement. Until the schools break up, it's not going to be frantically busy or crowded, beaches are empty, but outdoor hospitality venues have plenty of customers, mostly older people making the most of out-of-term holiday cottage bookings, like ours.

We're in an early nineteenth century grade two listed three storey terraced house with a loft conversion, divided into three apartments. Ours is up on the second floor with sea views through north and south facing windows, and the attic has a bedroom and bathroom with a north facing sea view. I don't think we realised it would be quite so amazing a place to stay. It's been beautifully modernised and decorated in sympathetic colours, with an overall maritime theme, and it's superbly equipped, lacking nothing on the domestic front, Mind you, there are two flights of stairs to the front door and another two up to the attic bedroom - extra fitness training, no gym needed here!

On one side we overlook the inner harbour, and there's a free first come first served car park on the quay opposite the house. It couldn't be better. Part of a car park is temporarily reserved for a beer garden and tent for the pub two doors down. It closes quite early, so noise is no problem. The streets were deserted by sunset. Sheer olde worlde bliss. What it'll be like in tourist high season is hard to imagine, and we won't be here to find out. It's just good to savour the moment.

Once unpacked we walked around to get our bearings, and I took my first batch of photos with my Sony Alpha 68 wide angled lens, to capture interesting views of the townscape. I'll revert to my cherished zoom lens tomorrow for a different range of views. After supper we watched the final of Cardiff Singer of the World. Five fantastic voices difficult to choose from, all destined already for top level operatic careers. 

It was Korean baritone Gihoon Kim who won, much to his own astonishment again as when he won his first round. He was the only man alongside four women also, of outstanding quality. The audience/viewers prizewinning choice went to Clare Barnett-Jones, the substitute competitor brought in at a day's notice to fill a gap caused by a covid quarantine drop-out. It seemed clear that all five performers were there having a good time, loving the opportunity to perform live with an orchestra again, without much concern about winning. After such a horrible year for performing artists this was the blessing they all longed for. 

After the programme I went for a walk along the shore path in the twilight, just for the pleasure of hearing the sea and feeling the mild scented breeze on my face. A perfect prelude to sweet sleep/

Tech trials and tribulations

I was glad of a day with nothing to do except get ready for our trip to Aberaeron tomorrow, but I got a bit distracted in the morning and while I was out exercising, called into our local Tourotec geek store to test the idea of buying a second hand laptop that's more capable of doing the kind of basic video editing which I seem to be doing more of there days. I bought a Lenovo with a Core i5 CPU and 8GB of RAM and a 250GB SSD, and made the mistake of not seeing it run in store before taking it home. 

When I plugged it in I noticed the charger cable was damaged, but current was running from it into the laptop, whose battery was empty. After a short while, I tried to switch it on but it wouldn't power up at all, I took it straight back and exchanged it for an equivalent device with a Ryzen CPU and similar specifications, an Honor 14 which I'd already seen had received favourable reviews. 

It was fifty quid cheaper, so I spent that amount on a USB backup hard drive, to balance the amount I'd been prepared to spend. It's not quite in as pristine condition as the Lenovo, but never mind. It works well enough for my purposes, and will enable me to keep up with changing developments in Windows 10, so I can help others with maintenance issues from time to time. Now I can convert my desktop workstation to a Linux machine and give it a new lease of life, and continue to have access to Windows tools which I do need to use occasionally. For the most part, however, it's the Chromebook that I mostly use. The desktop workstation is valuable because of having a big screen for viewing photos in detail. Using Linux photo applications will be easier and faster than using Windows on a five year old machine.

I recorded and edited next Thursday's Morning Prayer, and made a slide show video and uploaded it to YouTube in the evening. Then I run into a problem I'd not had before. The video uploaded successfully but instead of taking several minutes for the AI vetting procedure to run, I went on and and on, as if it was stuck. I upload all my videos as fit for a general all age audience including children, and the YouTube bot doubted my decision. It's never happened before. Something to do with making sure youngsters don't get exposed to the kind of violent or obscene footage some adults seem fond of. I had used a couple of photos of Old Master paintings of the birth of John the Baptist, and like many post renaissance paintings, were not afraid of showing the bare flesh of a newborn infant, a symbol of purity and vulnerability. Nothing you could call lewd or provocative, unless you're a dumb robot, needing to check the world's image databases for a comparison, to be on the safe side.

I wanted to settle the matter before leaving for holiday, so I returned to the video editor and replaced the images with equivalent line drawings in cartoon style to illustrate the Gospel reading, and then uploaded the revised video to replace the one which was stuck in processing mode. This took another hour out of my evening and left me very annoyed when I had a repeat performance, with a new uncontentious version stuck in processing mode. In the end I gave up waiting to see what would happen and went to bed, an hour later than usual. I hope it sorts itself out overnight as I will have run out of time to do anything different. 

The new Honor laptop is working fine but only partly set up. I have yet to set it up to work with my One Drive account, syncing a laptop with a Cloud account takes an age and slows everything down, so I need to pick a time when I won't need to use it. In fact, do I need to use One Drive, except for accessing it in a browser when I need to? It's what happens on my Chromebook satisfactorily, and my Blackberry. I'll have to think about this. I want the slickest fastest performance and in many ways, Windows doesn't deliver on my terms, plus it takes up too much time and resources updating the system in a clumsy way. I don't know why I bother really.

Demanding but nevertheless rewarding

I didn't sleep as deeply as I needed, perhaps wondering unconsciously how well I'd cope with a really busy day. First the Eucharist to celebrate at St Catherine's with eleven in the congregation, the taken by car to Pidgeon's chapel of rest for funeral number one, with burial in Llandaff Cathedral cemetery to follow. One of Pidgeon's drivers then took me over the 'The Res' for the second one. 

I needn't have been worried about delays in between. I arrived with three quarters of an hour to spare, time to get acquainted with the church layout and covid protocol, and get to know the verger and her husband, and the organist who sang a charming song version of the 23rd Psalm. The family had chosen two sixties pop songs as the only other music, but Jan told me Geraint the organist would be willing to sing a hymn from the organ console, so I asked and he was happy to oblige. He has a very nice voice.

After the interment in Western cemetery, I came home to a late lunch at a quarter to three, feeling very tired indeed. I had a rest before going out for a walk, but my legs felt like lead, and when I got back, I went to bed again and slept for an hour and a half, while Clare was listening to a WNO Friends Zoom presentation on the work of the company's costume designers and wig makers. I think it was interesting, but I couldn't fight sleep. By supper time I had enough energy restored to watch the evening's Lieder recital competition at Cardiff Singer of the World. 

Another glorious treat, this time in the concentrated form of storytelling through the medium of song, with five contestants singing in eight different languages not just English French German and Spanish, but also Welsh, Malagasy, Xhosa and Kosovan. It was the South African soprano Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha who captured the hearts of the jury, with deeply emotional singing expressed by a powerful flawless voice. She's also in the main competition finals on Saturday evening.

I guess that's the longest spell of intense concentrated activity I've had other than walking in a very long time. I felt like I'd swum a mile, or run ten. But at least, I didn't feel like that when I was officiating and didn't make any mistakes or lose my nerve at any stage. I need to think about doing some gentle fitness training to improve my overall bodily stamina. My legs are good and strong but the rest of me needs working on, now that my healing is progressing the way I've long hoped it would. 

Surprise gift

Couldn't help waking up thinking about my homecoming from Ibiza a year ago today. And in this year, two operations against the odds, given the enormous backlog for surgical attention as a result of the pandemic. It's nineteen days since the removal of the Seton's suture, and each passing day I notice minor improvements. The internal bruising is fading away and discomfort is minimal. The sense of freedom I experience is wonderful. I have so much to give thanks for.

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning with eight others, and then after lunch went up to 'The Res' to celebrate the Eucharist again for a congregation of a dozen, as Jan is away on leave this week. In the post, a book arrived for me from Jan's husband Peter, written by one of his PhD students Claire Gilbert. It called 'Miles to go before I sleep' The author is suffering from a form of blood cancer that is being tackled experimentally with stem cell therapy. It's not known if this will lead to a cure or if it will prolong her life. She writes to her friends about what she's learned from suffering, knowing she may not have much longer to live, and as it is, she lives in constant pain. Peter thought her writing would resonate with my experience. I look forward to reading it next week when we're relaxing in Aberaeron.

I finished recording and assembling the components of tomorrow's Morning Prayer video and uploaded the finished product to YouTube. Then I started work on next Thursdays video for St John's the Baptist's day, so that I can have that ready for publication next week. Our holiday cottage as wifi, we've been told.

Another glorious evening of singing in round four of 'Cardiff Singer of the World'. One of the singers, an Icelandic woman (for the first time) was obliged to drop out and self quarantine. With twenty four hours notice Claire Barnett Jones a mezzo soprano from Somerset was recruited to take her place, and despite strong competition from the other three singers, from Kosovo, Madagascar and another English mezzo soprano. Nevertheless she won, much to her own surprise. She has formidable voice, and she'll do well in Wagnerian roles in times to come. A marvellous evening.

Relaxation caution needed

So, the Prime Minister has called a halt to the relaxing of covid restrictions for another month because of the rise in India/Delta covid variant infections. A sensible move, while a massive effort is made to get all over 18s vaccinated before the final step of relaxation takes place. It's believed this measure will help limit the rise of new infections, hospital admissions and deaths. Let's hope so. 

After that 11-18 year olds will be targeted for vaccination in England. It's already happening here in Wales. Un-vaccinated younger people may well get a milder dose of covid and in general recover more quickly, but the intention is to curb symptomless transmission of the virus, as it has been discovered that the doubly vaccinated are significantly less likely to pass infection on if they are unfortunate enough to get a dose of the virus. Covid infection has proved to be a moving target this past year. Some politicians are now honest enough to acknowledge that it's not going to be possible to eliminate it, any more than we can eliminate 'flu or the common cold, as these too keep mutating from year to year. Controlling the scale of infection rather than eliminating it entirely is the best that can be hoped for.

Mid-morning, I walked to Pidgeon's for the funeral service in their chapel, with just three mourners. Friends of the couple who had been there for the husband's funeral three years ago are now too frail and vulnerable to attend, or else died since then. The burial took place in bright sunshine in the new section of Thornhill cemetery. I waited with the funeral attendants an extra twenty minutes in bright warm sunshine while the hearse and mourners made a detour past the family home in Rhiwbina. Were any of their neighbourhood contemporaries watching out for the hearse? I wondered. Or have they too passed on or moved away?

We had an early lunch and then I drove Clare over to the Heath Hospital for an eye appointment for the second time in two days. Yesterday's visit was in error. She'd put the wrong date in her diary. On my way home I drove down Whitchurch Road, looking for an outlet of the 'Cartridge World' printer ink supply chain. I couldn't find the shop, checked on my phone and discovered that none of the four shops there used to be in Cardiff are now open. There's just one main store/deport in Bridgend. Most annoyingly if you google it, the store address is 'Bridgend, Cardiff' twenty miles away, fifteen outside the city limit. How misleading!

Now everything is done by mail order. This may suit some users, but I hate it. I simply don't like shopping on-line as it takes much more time to find what you want out of a huge product inventory, pay for it, wait several days for delivery and then have to waste hours waiting for a delivery to arrive.

Clare had choir practice early evening, and that was when I went for my walk of the day, and listened to the Archers on my phone when I was on my way home.

Another marvellous heat of Cardiff Singer of the World this evening, with singers from the USA, Russia, South Korea and Austria with varied song programmes from each singer. It was an outstanding dramatic musical performance by Austrian soprano Cristina Gansch which commended her to the judges. It was followed by an hour of 'The Repair Shop', a delightful celebration of different kinds of craftsmanship and the restorer's art, marvellous to behold.

Homecoming remembered

Another lovely hot day with the temperature at around 25C again. I love the weather like this, and easily slip back into the habit adopted in Spain of keeping in the shade when the sun is hottest and brightest, to avoid getting burned. I'm brown enough already from spending so much time outdoors every day.

This morning I completed my preparation for Thursday's on-line Morning Prayer and Reflection, and went on to record and edit the sound file. All I need now is to match this with a handful of images, and put them together in a video upload to YouTube. It's getting easier now I've got the hang of it. I also got the material ready for tomorrow's funeral. I can't risk rushing anything at the moment. Wound discomfort is minimal, but in the morning the internal bruising plays up a bit and rattles my nervous system. It's a distraction that calls for more effort and less distraction to stay focused. Each day is less worse than the previous one so far, but I don't take chances, just in case there's a setback that makes normal activity an effort.

In my afternoon circuit of of Bute Park, Pontcanna and Llandaff Fields, I bumped into David, one of the mid-week regulars at St Catherine's whom I haven't seen since before I went to Ibiza. He's not felt ready to resume live worship, but follows on-line services. Recently he's had the second covid jab and is thinking that it'll give him confidence to return to church, which is nice to hear. 

Talking with him reminded me that it's exactly one year tomorrow since I started my journey home from Ibiza via Barcelona and London. What an extraordinary year it has been. I'll never forget walking out on Pontcanna Fields to stretch my legs after the car journey from Heathrow, and having a family of swallows sweep past me at knee level, hunting for insects. Funnily enough, I thought about this because it happened in the same part of the field where I'd just met David. What a lovely welcome home from nature that was!

In tonight's second round of 'Cardiff Singer of the World' we were treated to four powerful singers, a bass from Denmark, A Korean baritone, and two sopranos, one Welsh and one South African. It was hard to tell who the judges would declare the winner. All four promise to do well in their professional singing careers. It was was the Korean baritone Gihoon Kim who won, remarkable for having been born and raised in a poor provincial town, coming to classical music singing through his local church choir where his musical gifts were recognised. I daresay all four will be recruited for roles by WNO sometime in the future.

Following this was the last episode of the UK Photographer of the Year programme with Rankin hosting six very differently gifted photographers of different ages and experiences. It was great to watch and really challenged me to think again about the rather limited range of photos I take, albeit in abundance. I think I need to work a lot harder and take my beloved hobby much more seriously.

Socially distanced but superb singing

After breakfast, I went on my own to St Catherine's while Owain and Clare went for a walk in the park to enjoy the bright warm sunny morning instead. There were thirty of us at the Eucharist. On my way home I met Emma on her way to the Co-op and we chatted for a short while before she went hunting the shelves for something for lunch with an unexpected guest. She's really enjoying her interim ministry secondment to Fairwater, finding herself in an unusual situation there. 

With covid restrictions the church can only take 27 worshippers at a time, but the regular congregation is much more than that, so worshippers can only book to go to church fortnightly, and this involves a lot of extra organisation for the churchwardens. There's a monthly children's Eucharist on a Saturday, but numbers call for two separate celebrations, one every two weeks. Will parishioners easily get back into a weekly worship habit when this crisis is over I wonder?

After lunch in the garden, I walked up to Llandaff Weir. On the way there I went through the Cathedral Churchyard and heard singing within. The north east side entrance door was wide open so I put a mask on and popped my head in. The choir had just reached the Evensong Lord's Prayer and Responses. They were singing a familiar setting with gusto and it really moved me. After the Anthem, I walked around to the West door to watch the end of the service, then went in a chatted with Fr Mark, whom I haven't seen since last summer. Regular Cathedral Evensong, Sunday evenings and a weekday or two, are happening once more. It's such a blessing, and triumphant return to the Old Normal, albeit with a reduced socially distanced choir. It seems the Dean is still off work, so he and Canon Jan, our Area Dean, are carrying all the Cathedral services between them,  a heavy responsibility one way and another. 

This evening, the first round of the biennial 'Cardiff Singer of the World' on telly, a superb hour and a half of singing by the first four semi-finalists. It's taking place in St David's Hall again with a smaller orchestra and without an audience, but that didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the participants. Tonight's semi-final winner was mezzo soprano, Natalia Kutateladze from Georgia. The other singers were from Mongolia, Venezuela and China, all remarkable voices. 

And then, the second episode of disturbingly realistic prison drama 'Time'. Difficult watching. I wonder if this honest portrayal of life behind bars will spark new debate into British prison conditions.

Dining out with Owain

Rhiannon's year end show

A day cloudy but not too cold thankfully. In the morning I completed one eulogy started yesterdsy, and made a bereavement call to find out what I needed to know for another. This is for next Thursday when I have two funerals back to back.

A walk in the park after lunch and a nice long phone call with Kath while I was out and she was driving home from taking a class. They have had to postpone their visit to Alicante, as Jet2 won't fly to amber listed destinations. They rebooked for August instead, and are going to use their planned time out holudaying in North Wales. They have found a hotel in St Asaph, against the odds as staycationers are snapping up all the seaside accommodation.

After supper we watched a streamed recording of Rhiannon's end of term drama production of Molière's 'Tartuffe'. The video was poorly made and the sound wasn't good, but it gave us an idea of what she has been working on all term, covid learning conditions notwithstanding. The photos of the production she shared with us yesterday were really interesting to see showing their enjoyment in working together in the flesh after a dismal year.

I managed to find suitable cables to hook up an old laptop to the telly for streaming purposes. It didn't have quite enough memory to show it full screen without stuttering, but never mind, we got to watch it. Really, we could do with an equipment upgrade to live comfortably with so much on line video streaming these days. But we're not big consumers, so there's not much motivation to spend, yet.

Internal refugee story

I posted the YouTube Morning Prayer video link just after Thought for the Day this morning, after long but disrupted night's sleep. I didn't feel ready to drive myself to 'the Res' for my funeral planning meeting so I walked to Cowbridge Road to get a number 18 bus. I had a much longer wait than expected, and only just arrived in time. The bereaved children told an extraordinary story of how their mother had been born in Lewisham just before war broke out, and that her mother had walked from there with her as a babe in arms to a farm near Pembroke where her early childhood years were spent before moving to Cardiff. 

I'm not sure how much more detail they had of her beginnings. When I checked later, I found Lewisham had been one of the first South East London boroughs to be hit by the blitz, a later by V1 and V2 rockets. In the first month of attack the response to those made homeless by bombing was chaotic, evacuation was still at an early stage, so those who could, fled the capital one way or another, and if you couldn't afford a train ticket you walked and begged lifts. And that's only part of the remarkable story I'll be telling in her funeral eulogy.

By the time I arrived home Clare had already arrived from school and lunch was on the table. Her story session in kindergarten Mark accompanying on violin was a delight and a success with the little ones. He truly fits the pied piper role. After a restorative siesta, a walk around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. I took several good bird photos with my new Olympus telephoto lens, missel thrush, pied wagtail and a wren out of the trees for once, singing from its perch atop the fence around the tennis courts.

In the evening I watched an episode of a Canadian series on More Four called 'Coroner' set in Toronto. It's already been running five weeks. It's a courtroom drama with domestic, forensic and police elements. This episode was about the white police killing of an innocent black man, slowly revealed to be a cover-up job, a perennial a issue in Canada, as in the USA. I have another five episodes to catch up on, next time there's a rainy day and nothing better to do

Phishing or not?

After quite a busy Monday, apart from routine duties and a walk in the park I slept an extra three hours in the day and evening, before finally going to bed at midnight - no change there, go with the flow. The only new thing that came in was a request from Mthr Frances to cover a funeral next Thursday morning, when she's away on leave. I already have a Eucharist to celebrate and a lunchtime funeral at the Res. Both funerals are with Pidgeon's, and the timing works, with a driver picking me up from St John's and taking me to their funeral chapel then a burial in Llandaff cemetery, then a ride to the Res for the second funeral followed bt a burial in Western cemetery. It's a matter of being fully prepared for all three and relying on the funeral directors' teamwork to carry me through.  

A landline phone call yesterday presented a new robotic voice, rather posh, speaking on behalf of the National Crime agency, saying that my National Insurance number had been suspended because it had been detected in use as part of some illegal or immoral activity, and that I should press button one to speak to someone to respond to this allegation or expect to be arrested soon. What juvenile nonsense! The cops would never notify someone before making a surprise visit. How can a NI number be suspended? What purpose would it serve?

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's with nine others this morning, then uploaded photos taken the previous day, and with a fresh burst of energy, recorded and edited tomorrow's WhatsApp daily prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube later in the day. I took our weekly contribution the the foodbank to the Rectory on my afternoon walk, and had a brief chat with Mthr Frances. It's the first time we've seen each other in person four a couple of months. She's looking forward to a holiday up north with her folks next week, as we look forward to a few days in Aberaeron the week after her return. I suspect most people need a respite from routine coping and confinement after a long and difficult year.

Spokespersons for the medical profession are speaking out about members quitting due to burnout or sheer disillusionment. I hear stories of slipping patient care standards and mistakes being made by exhausted staff, who have been forced to go the second mile all to often over the past year. And  ow we have the slow build-up of a third wave of the India coronavirus strain, and although the high number of vaccinated people does reduce the volume of infections and hospitalizations significantly, it means medics  can't relax as this casts a shadow over the resumption of normal planned treatments.

Clare had a live call today, a young man saying he represented the Co-op bank complaints department. We were both suspicious, as banks don't tend to call you except by arrangement, and Clare had no recollection of making a complaint about the Co-op bank, although the Co-op store's on-line grocery ordering service checkout can give rise to complaints on times because of slowness timing out purchasers. The caller asked Clare to prove her identity, and her response was, to ask if he would prove his identity first. Sensible. He referred to the contact phone number on the back of her Co-op debit card, and suggested she called and did the i/d check, as this would end up routing her back to him. Well that's on hold at the moment, to many other things to do apart from chase after a call about a complaint you have no recollection of making.

Back on the buses

The sun shone again for most of the day, and it was warm. I had an uncomfortable night and felt as if I was jet-lagged. Maybe a delayed after effect of the anaesthetic? My head only cleared properly after a spell of exercise in the afternoon.

As I'm still feeling cautious about driving, I took a 17 bus from Cowbridge Road East to Glanely to meet Jan for a briefing on taking services there. I should have taken the 18, bus that goes there from town on an anti-clockwise route from Glanely to Caerau and back, as the journey is ten minutes shorter than the 17 which goes clockwise via Caerau to Glanely. Lesson learned. Ten minutes extra of very bumpy ride at speed, or so it feels. We talked for over an hour and a half. 

By the time I got home, Clare had been for a hospital appointment, returned and cooked lunch, which I expected to do. But tben Jan and I did have a lot of catching up to do, more than we can ever achieve when I meet her and Peter walking their dogs out in the park. She's all bubbling with happiness because her fabulous 'La sistema' youth orchestra project has continued to develop and recruit new teachers during lock-down, and now socially spaced rehearsals can resume. Just wonderful!

In ten days, I'm doing a funeral at the Res, which is partly why I went for a briefing. After lunch and a siesta, I called the chief mourner of the bereaved family and arranged to meet with them on Thursday morning. Then at five I started making my way to St German's by bus to celebrate their six o'clock Mass. I missed the 61, walked to Canton Cross and mistakenly got on a number one that goes to the city centre via the Bay taking much too long for me. I got off it in Grangetown, and picked up a ninety two that got me to the bottom of St Mary Street, then from outside the New Library, a third bus to Pengam Green that dropped me off by the Old Infirmary, five minutes walk from St Germans's, so I got there in time by five to six. Nobody would have guessed at how convoluted and haphazard my journey had been!

After celebrating with three others, I took an X59 bus from Newport Road to Dumfries Place and walked there rest of the way home across Bute Park and up the west bank of the Taff, and got back by half past seven.. For cross-town journeys, to St Germans, I'll be glad when I can use the car comrfotably again, less hassle and safer than some of the buses. There's always a minority that won't wear a mask or don't wear one correctly, ignoring the resentment of other passengers, ignored by despairing drivers, who try their best to get passengers to comply with safety rules. The bigger the bus the more likely, it seems to me, there'll be a few flouting the law insouciantly.

After supper, we watched the end of a seven year old episode of 'Fake or Fortune', then this week's NCIS new screening of a series 18 episode. Then it was time to turn in. But it's still hard to get to bed before midnight.

Transplant Triumph

 Although I'm sleeping deeply I' still wake in the night with low level pain and discomfort I need to deal with if I'm to settle back to  sleep again. That way I lose an hour or so, and need a siesta to compensate. I can go without if needs be, but then tiredness accumulates and that's not a good idea. This morning I woke up before eight, and listened to BCP Choral Matins from Windsor Castle on Radio Four in bed. 

It was abridged to fill the time slot and contained a homily - beautifully done. It was to mark the centenary of the late Duke of Edinburgh's birth that the broadcast came from St George's Chapel, and I think he'd approve of it, being utterly traditional, short and right to the point. It was lovely for me to lie there and pray the words of the old Office by heart. They have been part of my life since I started attending church regularly and singing in the choir over sixty years ago. 

As this that wasn't enough I took a turn as celebrating and preaching at the St Catherine's Parish Eucharist, now allowed to be Choral, which meant that I could sing the priest's part for the first time in a couple of years. Hopefully the ban on congregational singing will be lifted soon as well. I found this experience both uplifting and moving. It was a morning when Clare was scheduled to read, and be a welcome steward. We've done this together a couple of times, and enjoy it. Today she had to cope on her own as I had to get everything ready for Mass - there were two dozen of us, many away for half term I guess,

Suture removal hasn't only put a spring back in my step (I caught myself jigging from one foot to another to the music as I walked around Tesco's yesterday afternoon), it's reconnected me with the desire to sing effortlessly. This is perhaps the strangest consequence of having a tiny foreign body piercing close to my vagus nerve. It was subtle, rarely painful but it made music making an effort, not wanting to pick up the guitar or wanting to sing. A distinctive subversion of well-being. To stand at the altar singing again was a foretaste of heavenly bliss - I can't say more. We've both decided we're going to join the church choir now that it's likely the restriction on numbers will be lifted fairly soon. 

I walked down to Blackweir after lunch and a short siesta. There were hundreds of people in small groups picnicking, playing music, enjoying the sunshine, some youngsters paddling in the water or jumping off the bridge into the deep part by the fish trap - a delightful picture of summer normality. Then I walked to St Luke's for a service of Meditation and Benediction in honour of Corpus Christi weekend with a group of ten of us. I walked home chatting with our friend Diana, such a pleasant change from sending messages to each other on-line.

When I got back Clare was talking to our friend Peter in Itzehohe near Hambourg, who had a double lung transplant recently. We first spoke to him the day after the operation a month ago and were amazed to see him already so responsive and invigorated after nine hours of surgery. He went went for a rehabilitation course at a Nordzee coastal resort before returning home, Today he's been out riding a bike. Astonishing! 

We talked for over an hour while I ate supper, and then we watched the first episode of a three part drama called 'Time', and authentic claustrophobic portrayal of prison life seen from the perspective of inmates and officers. It was hard to watch, so brutally honest about life behind bars. For all its best intentions the prison system doesn't stop people re-offending and many prisoners have mental health conditions on entry or while they are incarcerated. It's not working to rehabilitate offenders, so why does Britain persist with a system that's clearly failing in its own aims? 

Royal resisters

Already eight days since the operation and despite noticeable improvement each day and diminishing aches and pains, sleep gets disrupted by discomfort, and leaves me feeling tired, although I have enough energy to walk and get on with daily tasks, evening doing without a siesta if I need to. From 8.5-9 hours a night, I've dropped to 7.5-8 hours. Maybe it's summer weather, or maybe an odd anaesthetic after-effect. The main impact is not walking so briskly, but never mind.

We got up late to our usual pancake breakfast. Clare finished varnishing garden table and benches, a job she started a few days ago. I worked on tomorrow's sermon, prepared a funeral service for the week after next and updated my blog, as often happens when I realised there was something yesterday which I only recalled as I was falling asleep. Memory rarely flows in straight lines.

An hours walk before and after lunch outdoors, lengthy phone conversations. After supper we watched a new documentary on Channel Four about the role played by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth in the campaign to deceive and mislead the Nazis over invasion plans. The Royal Family's active role has never before been revealed. When the story of Allied spying and disinformation campaigns was published in the 1980s this aspect was concealed, and brought to light only by recent research into royal archives. 

One small titbit of new information drew my attention. In speaking of intelligence gathering networks and the role of MI5 and MI6, reference was made to the royals' independent intelligence network, due to the historic as well as personal relationships between members of all European royal and aristocratic families. This was a two edged sword, as some royal relatives were Nazi sympathisers. George and Elizabeth made it clear where they stood, once the country's appeasement initiative failed, something they'd approved of, not wanting a war. King and Queen acquired weapons along with other household members, learned how to shoot and carried weapons with them in their cars when the threat of invasion was imminent. And they refused evacuation to Canada for safety reasons, insisting on remaining, at home among their people. It was an impressive story, well worth telling.

Necessary caution

I woke up just as the seven o'clock news was starting, and was cheered to learn that Wales has the lowest covid infection rate at the moment, and this makes it possible for a further lifting of restrictions Monday next, including large controlled groups at sports events. Owain announced on Instagram yesterday that he's one of the crew of deejays at a first post lock-down techno gig in Bristol's newest hospitality venue 'Strange Brew.

Meanwhile, numbers of Indian covid variant infections continue to grow, althought the impact on numbers hospitalized is not yet major cause for concern. A push to vaccinate the overwhelming majority of the population continues. It's seen as a key means alongside existing hygiene precautions to curb the virus growth rate. The government has imposed amber status travel restrictions of travel to and from Portugal, with unexpected consequences for holidaymakers and the Portuguese economy The logic of this move is being questioned by everyone affected, but the justification for this move is around what is unknown about the contagion potential of a new Nepalese derivative of the Indian virus variant.

Radio Four's 'Desert Island Discs' today interviewed Amanda Khosi Mukwashi CEO of Christian Aid. An unashamedly Christian African woman from Zambia with a wonderful story of faith in her life journey. Great inspiration for a Friday morning. 

I walked to St John's for today's lunchtime funeral. The coffin was transported in a glass panelled hearse drawn by two white horses wearing purple plumes. After the service I rode in a car with Ian, one of the attendants, up to Western Cemetery for the Committal, instead of having to drive myself. We had to sit in the car and wait half an hour for the hearse to arrive., in beautiful warm sunny weather. Thanks to the Jag's comfortable seats and room to brace my feet against the bulkhead, I survived the misery which sitting down involves at the moment, and returned home no worse for wear.

I walked for an hour and a half in tbe park after returning home and spotted a mating pair of goldfinches roraging in the newly mown grass alongside a misseltthrush.

We had mussels and rice laced with  diced fried veg for supper plus a delicious bottle of Frascati - my go-to summer white wine.

In the evening a  another awe inspiring 'Springwatch' hour on BBC2 and an emotionally powerful Rocco Schiavone episode on More Four. Extraordinary gritty  Italian movie storytelling. Sadly, tonight was the end of the first 2016 series. We'll have to wait for the 2018-19 series two and three to be screened.

Celebrating a remarkable extended family

I finished the antibiotics yesterday morning, and slept a peaceful five hours before needing to relieve myself. Just what I needed. The aftermath of strong medication affects both the digestion and irritates the bladder. Heaven help anyone what has infection or inflammation. The cure seems as bad as the ailment.  Just like giving you a Cocodamol painkiller that constipates the victim, plus a laxative to manage the impact. Is modern medicine unable to do better than this. What happened to the 'patient experience' factor?

Sleep plus a little physical inertia sees a welcome improvement at this early healing stage. I spent much of the morning writing with my Chromebook lying on the bed comfortably, completing tomorrow's eulogy and order of service, ready to print. 

I went to the shops for a few items after lunch, then for a circuit of Llandaff Fields, nothing too strenuous. Coming out if Tesco's as I was entering, I bumped into Wendy one the team of District Nurses who brought ne back from the brink after my first couple of operations. It gave me an opportunity to update her on my medical news and asked her to relay my greetings to her colleagues.

An email arrived from Martin with a request to look at an article he's drafted about his amazing household and family life and comment. At pensionable age they live with two special needs lads, and an Afghan family with two babies and two teenagers, plus other regular visitors. And they love it! Later, after doing what he asked, another request to edit the article. Martin tells a great story, so it was mostly an exercise in punctuation and occasional clarification, as if I was preparing it to be read aloud. I do this routinely and it's an exercise in thinking I enjoy. I don't know if he knows where it will be published, but in due course I will learn.

Last job of the day, to print off tomorrow's scripts. At the moment only Clare has printer ink, so I have to use her computer. A Linus Mint update was due, but the package manager wouldn't accept the passwords I set, much to my annoyance. After messing about a bit, I found the network plug was off and it was linked by wifi only to the router below downstairs. Once switched on the updates processed without incident and on reboot, reverted to wifi on. It's set to update only via a standard wired network, which I prefer anyway, and won't work over wifi. It reboots to wifi as a check, in case the latest update affects software wifi uses. Lesson learned, even if a bit obscure. 

Never a dull moment

Another broken night's sleep, but at least it's less unpleasant now it's warmer. After breakfast, I had a phone call from Pidgeon's about a funeral in two weeks time. It's of the widow of a man whose service I took exactly three years ago. Her memory was failing at that time and she moved away to the South East to be near her daughter. They want her service to be down here, as they lived in Cardiff for thirty years in later life and it's where their friends still are. When I heard the surname, I recalled all the essential detail immediately, much to the funeral arranger's surprise, and mine for that matter.

As I was jotting down the date and time, a lens dropped out of my specs. Yet again, awful design, although it's my fault for taking them off so frequently, when I don't need them. They took me ten minutes to fix, and lateness panic started to set in. I get distressed if I think I'm losing my grip. Kath drove me over to St German't to celebrate their midweek Mass, and despite traffic we arrived on time. 

It's something I agreed to do before I had any idea of the impact of the operation. I didn't want to cancel unless I was incoherent and drained of energy, and as I have been feeling well despite the discomfort, I thought it would be a test of my recovery. I've done this before over the past two years. It's demoralising to have to cancel and it can undermine confidence, if you're afraid you can't do something when you can. All went well. It was good to have an opportunity to celebrate a Corpus Christi Mass in anticipation of tomorrow's feast, even if there were only four of us present. 

Kath waited to take me home, but instead of staying for the service, wandered off down to Ruby Street in Splott, where she spent her first intense year of training to start her higher education Contemporary Dance course in Coventry University. A little trip down Memory Lane for her, and a photo on Instagram of the dance studio, to mark the sentimental journey.

After lunch Kath and Clare went to town on a clothes shopping trip. I stayed home, with my weekly tasks of collecting our food shopping orders, also Friday's funeral and a eulogy to prepare, and a recording for tomorrow's on-line Matins and Reflection. Jan called about a funeral at 'the Res' while she's on leave too. 

Somehow the afternoon slipped by and after an early supper, Kath took her leave, hopefully rested by her four day break. It was so refreshing to have her with us. Finally, I got around to editing what I'd recorded earlier and uploaded it to YouTube, ready for the morning. This took three hours, by far the hardest task of a busy day, as I was getting tired and unable to sit at my workstation without the distraction of discomfort. I needed stand or kneel at my desk, to control the Windows video editing suite properly. I used audio plus some photos as audio markers. I've done it before to my satisfaction. Being unable to sit and record video was enough reason to repeat the exercise. 

I don't know what consumers think of this. There's little by way of feedback apart from the odd 'Thank you'. It'd help to have an evaluation session involving consumers and users of on-line Parish content, not least to find out who find what's thought easy or hard to achieve. I've noticed a recent switch by producers to video delivery via YouTube with a What's App link. I may not have triggered this, but I experimented with this months ago because of my antique phone hassles. Nothing has been said agreeing to this as policy, we just carry on muddling through. 

I ran out of time for evening exercise, and only walked for an hour today. I acknowledge I'm impatient with myself, but having lived so long with this affliction, getting as close to normal as I can does my heart and mind good, better than medicaiton.

Threatening reality

More blue sky and sun today, the temperature rose to 25C right into the evening. The heat relaxes me and made up for not sleeping as well or as long as I needed to. All our meals were taken outdoors. I am still unable to sit to eat, but never mind. I managed to sit for half an hour after supper but pressure on the wound eventually led to painful discomfort. It's still early days. We walked around Thompson's Park before lunch. A heron arrived and stood on the alert in the reeds at the edge of the duck pond. I doubt if there are fish in it, just microscopic creatures and plants which ducks enjoy. Very photogenic.

After a late lunch, we went for another walk, over Blackweir Bridge and down through the woods to the Millennium Bridge and back. I wasn't so tired today, and completed by daily walking quota. Exercise and fresh air did me good, made me clear headed and more alert, countering the aftermath of the anaesthetic. I  had a message from Jan at the Res to ask if I'd cover her absence for a few days the week after next. Tomorrow I'm covering Phelim's midweek Mass, while he's away on a cycling tour of all six Welsh Cathedrals. I can't sit to drive, but Kath will take me to St German's and I'll return by bus, standing in the area reserved for wheeled users.

Public Health England reported zero covid deaths today for the first time in a year. It has happened in Wales too I believe, on a few occasions. But not regularly and consistently over a period. That would be noteworthy good news. The numbers of the Indian covid variant continue to grow but this seems not to have much impact on hospital admissions. The vaccination regime has so far proved effective in limiting the spread though not eliminating it. Experts say there's a risk of a third wave of infection developing which could have an impact, and are appealing for delay in lifting all restrictions. 

Meanwhile the covid death rate is soaring in some countries like Peru where under-reporting of fatalities adds to an already chaotic situation in which hospitals are overwhelmed. How can you plan to tackle the crisis faced with a dearth of reasonably correct information? How many more lethal variants are going to emerge that vaccination cannot stop. It seems to me that unless a way is found to eliminate poverty and inequality around the world, {since these are the breeding ground for contagion} it may be impossible to stop even deadlier pandemics, that decimate earth's population and destroy the present global economy. Tolerating poverty and inequality is sinful, and as scripture says, the wages of sin are death. When will we awaken to this truth that threatens?