Stinging in the rain

Another day of prolonged heavy rain showers, and when I started out for St German's I found there were traffic lights at the T-junction of Llanfair and Llandaff roads, just around the corner from home. Later I learned that trench was being dug across Llandaff Road to lay a new gas main extension into the housing development on the the Sussex house site on the other side. Not knowing what measure of congestion and queuing lay just out of sight, I turned the car in the opposite direction, to reach Penhill and Cardiff Road in order to get to St German's via Western Avenue and North Road. There was a quarter of a mile build up of Sunday traffic back from where the road was being dug up, but in the direction I was headed it flowed free and I got to St German's in fifteen instead of the usual twenty minutes.

Father Geraint John curate of Llangynwyd with Maesteg came to church for his Sunday off. He celebrated and I preached in honour of St German on his feast day. Geraint spent three years at St German's for his training placement. He was made deacon and ordained priest while pandemic restrictions were in force, so he left the Parish without a proper farewell. Today was finally an opportunity for the congregation to make a gift to him and express their appreciation for his pioneering ministry, especially in getting the wintertime night shelter for the homeless up and running. He was given a long round of applause after Mass as well as a cheque with a card.

Then we adjourned to the church hall for the AGM meeting of St German's Friends Association, the first in two years. There was a reception to follow, but as it ran later than I anticipated, I left straight after and went home for lunch, and was still late, due to the traffic and roads awash with rain.

When I left the house to go for a walk the rain seemed to have stopped or was only a light drizzle slowing to a pause in the rain for an hour or so. I was almost at the entrance to Thompson's Park when the heavens opened again and it rained heavily for a quarter of an hour, so heavily I stood under a tree overhanging the footpath rather than make a run for it to a more sheltered spot. I got fairly wet but not soaked through, so kept on walking through Thompson's Park and then through Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields to Blackweir and back home. The sun came out and I was more or less dry leaving the park, then the heavens opened again and soaked me in the last five hnndred metres.

While I was out walking I felt a sharp burning pain at two points in my right thigh muscles, as if someone was pushing a hot needle under the skin. There was no convenient place where I could drop my trousers and examine my left until I found a thicket of bushes by the riverside. I had two puncture wounds, one of which seemed bloody at first inspection, but when I got home it turned out to be the read end of a creature that had stung me, possibly a bee. I think it may have crawled up my trouser left while I sheltered from the rain in search of warmth and shelter. When I felt the sting I rubbed my leg and finished it off, then it fell out leaving only a small amount of tissue and its venom. What an odd occurrence!

After supper we watched on Sky Arts the recording of a concert made in 2002 by friends of Beatle George Harrison celebrating on the first anniversary of his death wide rang of compositions. The band had, I think, half a dozen guitarists, including George's son Dhani, then 24, looking like a much younger version of his father. There were four, maybe five drummers, two keyboard players, a brass and strings orchestra and a host of backing singers. It was a wonderful feast of musical nostalgia, featuring rock stars of the Beatles era all in their sixties and still playing wonderfully.  This happened just as we were settling in at St John's after our nine years in Europe. It awakened many mixed memories of the thirty years of ministry preceding - some of the music that was the backing track to our lives.