Bute Park lock-down

When Clare left for her study group, I went out, charged with finding some red candles for our Advent table wreath. I couldn't find anything suitable in the Cowbridge Road shops, but on the way back called into Beti Biggs, a small boutique, on Romilly Crescent, not far from home and found exactly what I had been looking for. It's not a shop I've ever been in before, specialising in small gifts and things and glitter at this time of year. I though it might have closed for goof during lock-down but it bounced back, which is encouraging to hear.

I cooked lunch in time for Clare's return, then went into town to buy Christmas cards for sending with our annual newsletter, which I have yet to write. Bute Park, apart from the east west cycle route is closed to pedestrians and cyclists, as the arboretum zone is being used for the illuminated night walk - pay to enter. This will not be a popular move though it's within the Council's rights to allow this disruption, as it's not public realm in the sense that streets are. It forces a change to people's everyday routines however, obliging many to walk further than they can or wish to. We wait to see if this initiative covers the cost outlay, and if not, who picks up the bill.

Winter Wonderland in front of the Museum and City Hall is now a fun fair including a ski slope, and is extended to Castle grounds, given over to a skating rink under a large tented canopy, with an open air extension in the form of a circular piste. In the middle of the enclosure are the four light sculptures of reindeer which in previous years were installed on the grass in the castle moat. All the refreshment stalls are inside the Castle walls now and there are just the usual coloured table benches. I guess outdoor drinkers from the hostelries on the other side of Castle Street can sit there, if they are willing to take their lives into their hands crossing the way where two way traffic reigns once more. I think this Winter Womderland was set up like this last year, but covid restrictions prevented it coming into use. 

In the evening I watched another episode of 'Crossing Borders' on My5 catch-up. It's another euro-crimmie showcasing an elite international team of detectives working on cross border crimes. It's rather idealised, in representing people with different policing cultures, jurisdiction hopping without upsetting the status quo, but the bad thing about it is that the key actors all speak English. The difference between their mother tongues has almost no impact on their accents. There's hardly foreign language speech, so it's subtitle free, and hardly any misunderstandings. A low budget series evidently.

Enter omicron

It was minus one when I wok up this morning, but by the afternoon the temperature rose to six degrees. It was cloudy but we were spared rain. There were the usual domestic chores after breakfast to mark the start of the week then writing before cooking lunch. I walked to Aldi's after we'd eaten, for some bananas and peanut butter, not to mention wine. A new checkout clergy accidentally double scanned a couple of bottles, so it was just as well I checked the amount owing before tapping my card on the cash terminal, as I'd been overcharged by ten pounds. I had to wait several minutes for the error to be reversed and checked by the duty manager. The checkout guy was a newbie and rather embarrassed. He'd teased me about an age check for alcohol purchases earlier, but age was no hindrance to being sharp witted, and I laughed it all off.

When I got home, I completed my Morning Prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube ready for Thursday. After supper, we watched a programme about scientific research into the authenticity of a self-portrait by Rembrandt housed in Knightshayes Court, a National Trust property in Devon. We were shown the house in the course of the programme, of interest in its own right to us, as its architect was William Burgess, who designed Cardiff Castle and Castell Coch. It looks like a place that would be worth a visit for its exotic Victorian Gothic design and the high quality craftsmanship that realised it.

It's good to hear from today's news that the government is imposing rules about face mask wearing in England, in line withe the Celtic regions, and requiring travellers returning from Southern Africa to be quarantined. The extent of the threat from the recently detected and named 'omicron' covid19 variant has yet to be determined, and fortunately widespread testing has detected a small number of cases in Europe and Britain early. This is clear evidence of the need to get all third world countries vaccinated sooner not later, to hinder the development of more threatening variants. 

A hard and fast precautionary response is what scientists advise and for once they are being listened to, even more so that on previous occasions, when restrictions came in a bit too late. It such a pity that the response on previous occasions wasn't harder and faster, as it cost many lives and situations that were hard to control, even with the high up-take of vaccination. It's just a pity there weren't more practicing scientists among our political leaders.

Sunlit Advent Sunday

Advent is thought of as a journey from darkness to light, but it was lovely to have sunlight streaming into St German's throughout this morning's Mass. There were thirty of us present. After the service, Prince-Farai, who was baptized last Sunday came and reminded me that I'd promised to give him a tour of the statues in church and introduce him to the saints. I think his mum must have been talking to him about them in the meanwhile.

I got home more or less on time afterwards. Traffic was flowing well on the return trip, perhaps because there's two way traffic past the Castle again, and that eases congestion on peripheral roads around the city centre. After lunch I went for a brisk walk in the park for half an hour to wake me up ready to drive back to St German's for the first of the Advent evening services. 

The sun was setting by the time we started, shedding golden light in the nave through the west window. It was just perfect for the blessing and kindling of the evening lights, or would have been, if the device used to light the candles hadn't died on David after he'd lit the one on the Advent wreath. We had a meditative pause while he found a working one and then continued. It was completely dark by the time we finished. The chancel, where we held the Office looked beautiful, was the only part of the church illuminated.

I decided to try the return route along Castle Street instead of my usual one, and that worked well even though there was quite a lot of traffic. It's certainly better in the dark, although the southern route I have been using this past year is better for the outbound journey. I got back at five, just as the Parish Advent Carol service was starting at St Catherine's. It had started raining and I didn't fancy walking there and getting wet. I certainly couldn't have made it back in time to sing in the choir, especially unrehearsed.

After supper we watched two interesting antiques programmes, and then the last episode of 'Show Trial', whose ending was, as Clare remarked "predictable' except there was a dash of ambiguity in the last scene, had the acquitted party got a way with a complex deceit or was she just winding up her lawyer for fun? Which may suggest a series two somewhere in the future

Leaf invasion

A clear cold night and a day of gusting icy north winds disrupting rail and road traffic in many parts of the country. Owain returned to Bristol after a late breakfast. We wondered if he'd be affected by train services being disrupted, but thankfully this didn't happen. It was lovely having him with us for two nights in a row sharing meals and walking together down to the Taff. For him it was also catch up time with friends he'd not seen since before the pandemic. Last night he met many of them at a techno club in Jacob's Market, one of his old haunts when he lived here.

I had a rare weekend call from John at Pidgeon's about a funeral a week Monday - that'll be two in the same week. It's that time of year, I suppose, pandemic notwithstanding. 

When I went out for a walk after lunch it was bitterly cold and I had to walk hard not to get chilled. Wind had swept all the golden brown leaves away from the trees, leaving the grass clean and green. They were piled them up knee deep around parked cars on Penhill Road, rather unsafe left uncleared, to my mind, as they are dry enough to be inflammable. 

When I'd had enough of the cold, I returned and watched part two of the 'Millennium Trilogy' on BBC iPlayer, rather than staying up late and watching it this evening. I don't think I've seen it before, despite seeing part one. In the end I don't think I got to bed any earlier.

Having missed out on Saturday breakfast pancakes, Clare cooked some for supper, which was a pleasant change. I then went out for some fresh air and found that the pavement on the east side of Llanfair Road was covered, knee deep with leaves, blown down from Penhill Road. That's a lot of work for the residents to deal with. The Council doesn't have a good record on autumn leaf clearance unfortunately. I don't think I've ever seen such a huge amount of leaves shifted by the wind in less than a day.

Tomorrow's Advent Sunday sermon printed out ready to go. Another Christian calendar year starting all over again. Time flies.

We went to bed late and I was last down for breakfast. After going out for a mid-morning coffee at Coffee #1 for a change. walked around Pontcanna surveying the changes in local shops, signifying the continued gentrification of the area. Before returning for lunch, we ended up having a look around the newly redeveloped 'Corporation' pub, as it now seems to be fully open for business and publicizing this in style. A good job they're making of it.

It was cold and windy when Owain and I did a circuit of Pontcanna Fields in the afternoon - the shape of things to come. The trees are stripped of the last of their golden leaves now, a dramatic change in the landscape. 

When we got back we had a go at trouble shooting an issue Owain has with getting his website server to back up all the site content. We weren't successful unfortunately as the ftp password wasn't recognised to allow access and run the backup process. His security notes are all at home so we gave up after an hour of trial and error. It'll have to wait another day. This evening he went out to visit friends locally and I drafted Sunday's sermon before turning in for the night.

Paella night

I uploaded the White Ribbon Day Morning Prayer and reflection video link at eight Then after breakfast I walked to St John's for the Eucharist. Mother Francis talked about it in her homily, referring to today's reflection about domestic abuse and violence against women. Nice to know she'd already read it. It's rare to get any feed back about these posts, which makes me wonder how many people in the WhatsApp prayer group us the material offered. Not that it matters. It's good to have the regular discipline of writing a biblical reflection for others. It helps keep the mind sharp for writing a fresh sermon most weeks.

After cooking lunch, I went into town to buy a few ingredients for tonight's paella, including Spanish rice paella spices and fish pie mix, a chicken breast, a tuna steak (for Clare) some black olives and special veg from the market. It's my first attempt at a paella containing both chicken and fish. I think I used too much rice, as there was enough in my special skillet pan for three, and Clare wasn't intending to have paella. She settled for a small amount freed from chicken and pepper, and we had none left over.

Owain's train was badly delayed and it was eight fifteen by the time he arrived.  It's the first time he's been over to see us since Clare's birthday two months ago. Clare returned from choir practice shortly after he arrived, so we were able to eat a late supper together. When Clare went to bed, Owain and I watched the first episode of 'When the Dust Settles' on Walter Presents, about people and events surrounding a terrorist attack on a Danish restaurant. Unfortunately it's another six, no, a ten part serial, one and a half hours per episode. A long hard slog. Is it worth it?

Talking with kids about royalty

I had an advance call from Pidgeon's about another funeral in two weeks time, details to follow when the family have visited to make the rest of the arrangements. An early booking either means the family need that amount of time to gather, or that the booking schedule is getting busy, as it often does at this time of year.

I haven't yet risked the journey to St German's through the city centre, now that two way traffic has been restored after a very annoying period of more than a year, knowing how congested Newport Road can be in all conditions. Now that the pressure is taken off diversionary routes around the city centre, the drive can be as quick on a weekday morning as it is on a Sunday. 

When I arrived twenty five minutes early, a class of three dozen children was queuing outside waiting for the doors to open, arriving much earlier than was a planned. We waited  to start the Mass until the handful of regular congregation members turned up on time, but I took advantage of the opportunity to chat to the children about Kings and Queens before we got started with celebrating Christ the King with them, and that worked quite well. 

I didn't stop for coffee and a chat as I had to drive back to keep a blood test appointment at the surgery. It's now receiving patients for appointments inside again, with a one way system using front and side doors, a lot easier for staff to manage, with only a couple of waiting spaces, and times strictly controlled. When I job was done, I collected the weekly veggie bag appointment. then returned home. I cooked lunch for us, then went out to the shops to buy some food-bank items ready to take to St John's tomorrow. Again, I fell asleep in the chair for over an hour, but managed to rouse myself to get out and walk again before sunset.

I worked on next week's Morning Prayer and accompanying reflection and recorded it before supper. Ideas came to me easily again. It must be all the fresh air. We watched The Repair Shop together, then I watched the final episode of 'Shetland', which left you in no doubt there's be another series, ending with a dramatic hiatus, after the crime was solved. It's interesting seeing the Scottish legal system at work, as it's much like the European legal system with an investigating magistrate - the Procurator Fiscal - scrutinising cases and deciding on grounds for prosecution. It has much to commend it.

Park in the dark

After breakfast, I worked all morning on finalising the autumn video slideshow I've put together with musical accompaniment by Rachel, and then this week's Thursday Morning Prayer video slideshow, which took me longer than usual as the reflection it contained was a minute and a half longer than usual, and needed more slides. All was completed and uploaded by half past twelve in time to cook a veggie pasta lunch for Clare's arrival home from her study group.

I walked a lot yesterday and was tireder than usual, sleeping for an hour and a half after lunch, which meant walking out in Bute Park as the sun set. I retraced our steps from last night and found exactly where the forgotten footpath through the woods was in relation to the cycle stand by Blackweir Bridge. You bear left and turn right ten metres after the cycle stand. How could I have forgotten?

I walked on the cycle path to the Royal Welsh College, then back across Bute Park on the footpath that leads to the Millennium Footbridge and then home through Pontcanna Fields. A council worker was stationed by the path advising users that only the College gate and the bridge gate woild stsy open after dark. The woodland areas adjacent to the path are fenced off as they contain extensive LED light sculptures cycling through changing colour, part of this year's Christmas offer of a Winter Wonderland style walk in the dark through the park. Quite something really, though most of it is 'pay to view'.

There was nothing much on telly, so I spent the evening after supper tidying up my digital estate and uploading to YouTube the little video of the light sculptures in the park, made with my trusty Sony HX90

.

Lost in the woods

A routine start to the week with cleaning chores after breakfast, and a re-write of mt Thursday morning reflection on the difficult passage in Matthew ten in which Jesus talks about his ministry causing division, an uncomfortable message. Thursday is the start of the UN's annual campaign against violence to women, a sixteen period marked by supporters wearing a white ribbon. It proved possible link this to Safeguarding in the church, and back to the Gospel. Once I'd made the connection, writing and recording was easy.

As I was busy, Clare cooked lunch. I went to the shops, then recorded and edited my Thursday service. We had supper early, then set out for the Royal Welsh College over Blackweir Bridge and through the park for an opera Gala Night. In trying to reach the cycle path three hundred metres through the woods beyond the bridge, we took the wrong path twice, added twenty minutes to the walk, and arrived dead on seven thirty, as the Welsh National Opera orchestra was tuning up. 

Failure to find the right path, not way-marked for some stupid reason no doubt, while easy in daylight was impossible at night, though we have walked it at night in the past. It's a case of remembering the lie of the land, which changes when the undergrowth is overgrown. Anyway, we walked down the playing fields, couldn't exit by the ambulance station, but found a way out by the new service entrance gate which, though closed wasn't locked. I was pretty certain that there was a permanently open way out of the park at night next to the College, but Clare didn't believe me, though we've walked that way before. It was quite a bizarre predicament to be in, but we laughed our way through it more than we bickered.

The concert was wonderful, Carlo Rizzi conducting the WNO orchestra with great energy and the opera students rising admirably to the challenge in eight extracts from operas, only one of which we knew. The last piece was from the end of Verdi's Falstaff with ten singers on stage singing a fiendishly complex fugue with much gusto. It was offered, as Carolo said, in memory of David Seligman, a long standing patron of the College, and music making generally in Cardiff, who died earlier this year. It was more in keeping with the spirit of the man than a minute's silence, Carlo said.

Sitting in front of us was Eileen, the caretaker at St John's church. She was already at the bus stop to get the 61 home when we arrived there after the performance. It was great to find a fellow enthusiast among our local church members. What a night! Lost in the woods, then arriving in the nick of time.

Celebrations of youth and age

Clare came with me to St German's for Mass this morning, as we were invited to join the parish lunch in the hall afterwards. A special occasion to celebrate organist Brian Williams' forty years of musical ministry at the church. The festive lunch was due to happen this time last year, when he turned eighty but lockdown prevented it. It's second parish lunch this autumn, satisfying the desire for fellowship and feasting so sadly missed in the previous eighteen months. There were over forty of us, even more than those in church, such is the popularity of these get togethers, people bringing their friends and relatives. Just as it should be.

We had the baptism during the service of Prince-Farai Andreas the five year old boy I met a few weeks back. He was dressed all in white - suit, shirt and tie, with a tiny gold cross. Last week he impulsively reached out for Communion when he came up for a blessing, but his mum restrained him. I had a chat with him before the service, once we'd practiced clambering up on to a stool on the font platform, I asked him if he still wanted to receive Communion, and he said yes. I told him that as a newly baptized person he could do so, just like everyone else. Then I took him back to his mum and explained to her what I proposed and he confirmed for himself that he wanted to take Communion, and she was happy with this. 

At the font, he participated in the vows and profession of faith, nodding where he was unsure of saying the exact words. He'd asked his mum about being Christened, and wanted this for himself, not just to please his parents. She'd shown him videos of the story of Jesus and he'd talked with her about it, and then asked about baptism, which he said he'd heard about in school. It's rare maybe, for a child of that age to be so aware and focused within the confines of a child's understanding, but within the experience of the church universal down the ages that young children can be more spiritually awake than adults imagine. I felt confident that we did him justice, even though the road ahead is long and challenging for him, as it is for all of us.

When I gave the boy Communion, he took the host and bit it in half, almost inquisitively, taking his time  to consume, hurried on a little by his mum, anxious about the queue of communicants behind her - 'O taste and see how gracious the Lord is.' were the words that came to mind. Children and the kingdom of heaven! A memory I will treasure as long as I live.

I was reminded, on seeing him nodding his head in response to the vows, of the man in his seventies I baptized in my Halesowen days thirty years ago. A youthful boxing brain injury left him mute, but he communicated to family that he wanted to be baptized before his died. When I administered the vows at the font, he nodded vigorously smiled and gave a double thumbs up to each question. One of those most moving moments, like today, which I'll never forget.

After lunch we returned home, and I walked in the park until sunset turned white clouds pink in a blue sky. We watched ITV's delightful programme 'An audience with Adele' - no wonder she's a global star, so natural, so down to earth, that gorgeous much loved girl-next-door who brings a light to people's eyes. And then, episode four of 'Show Trial', full of surprises which continue to hold attention.

Latin Jazz at St German's

A long night's restorative sleep. The gall bladder inflammation must have drained extra energy to cope with. It's diminishing at last, thankfully. We both got up late and renounced our usual pancake breakfast, to make up for a late start. I had a sermon to finish and print, and a funeral service for Monday to prepare for.

After lunch I walked over to St German's, where students from the Royal Welsh College are giving five afternoon concerts, ending with an AmserJazzTime performance with a Latin Jazz quintet and a singer. I went from listening to last nigth's AmserJazzTime recorded stream on YouTube to hearing a group with a few of the same musicians performing live in church.

The city centre was crammed with rugby supporters for the Wales v Australia game, an uncomfortable experience with few bothering with masks, despite increasing infection rates. In contrast, almost everyone in church was wearing a mask unless they were performing.

Clare alsowalked from home to join me for the last two performances - music theatre, and the Latin Jazz ensemble, which was excellent, The drummer was sensitive, quieter than drummers tend to be, working sympathetically with the sax  player and vocalist.  The performance was spoiled by a sound balance which didn't take advantage of the fine church acoustics, as the guitar and bass were too loud and didn't balance well with the rest of the group. Still, it was a special experience, as darkness fell, just right.

We took a bus back to Churchill Way and had to push our way through crowds across the city centre streaming from the Stadium, as the match had just ended. We got home before eight, in time for supper before another episode of the Millennium Trilogy on BBC Four.

Time to start waiting

Since my gall stone gave me trouble last Sunday the discomfort and occasional pain beneath my right side rib cage hasn't hasn't gone away. A familiar symptom of inflammation, although it has recurred seldom in the three years since I switched to a dairy free diet. Now that I have almost completely recovered from my five rounds of surgery, I decided it was about time to start the process that will most likely lead to keyhole surgery to address the problem. 

As soon as I was awake this morning I rang the surgery for a telephone appointment, then wrote out a history of the trouble and what I'd done to mitigate the symptoms. Then I was ready when I was called by a GP at half past eleven. As a result of our 10-15 minute conversation, I have a blood test next week and an ultrasound scan has been ordered, the necessary first diagnostic step to confirm the symptoms are what they're supposed to be, and not something else. 

A course of action will then be proposed that will most likely mean getting in the long queue for surgery. The worse it gets the more likely that I'll be seen sooner rather than later, though I'd rather it didn't worsen. I spent far too long coping with the fistula and getting sicker awaiting treatment.  The trauma of those long waits are still with me and surface from time to time in my body memory if not my mind.

Once the GP call was over, I went out for some fresh air before cooking some chicken for lunch, Clare had prepared the veggies and some vegan protein balls for herself. I remembered Rufus' recommendation to drink some cider with lunch, which he found helpful to mitigate pain and discomfort from his gall stones - he is waiting for an operation already. Clare bought me the bottle of cider which I drank when she was out shopping, and at the end of my afternoon walk, I bought a larger one which will last over the weekend. It seems there's something about cider and even cider vinegar which helps the stomach to maintain an alkaline environment. We'll see if it works for me. 

The document I've been working on with Rufus lately, I ran past my old friend Roy, still in Alicante, and it was well received. Rufus is now trying it out on other parties, likely to be interested in a pioneering ministry initiative.

I watched the second half of the 'Dalgleish' episode this evening, which was fairly convincing. Clare went away and watched Royal Welsh College music videos on her tablet, less convinced than I that another 'hudunnit' was worth the time.

News reports from across Europe mention a significant rate of increase in covid infections - a fourth wave that is leading to a resumption of restrictions. It could be happening here as well, though high vaccination up-take means Britain is coping better with already high infection numbers. As I see it, all of Europe and the UK are paying the price for lifting restrictions early. Masks and social distancing contribute to curbing infection spread, even if it's less easy to say by how much. If they were obligatory everywhere it must help make a difference. For every person that does the right thing, however, there's another than doesn't care and things they have a right to be careless and risk infecting others.

  

Pub conversion

I uploaded my Morning Prayer video just after Thought for the Day, then got up for breakfast. I was happy to sit in the congregation for the Eucharist at St John's - unusually, only four of us were there with Mother Frances. 

After the service I went and had a look around 'The Corporation', the Victorian pub/hotel on the corner of Canton Cross which has been redeveloped as a small indoor market for sole traders selling books clothes, cards, wine, Italian pastries. There's a bar at the centre of it all, and in the yard outdoors I believe there are street food stalls as well. 

It's been fitted out very simply, with each retail space apportioned off using the kind of heavy gauge steel mesh used in re-enforced concrete structures, clever as the spaces can by adjusted in size if needs be. It has an entrepreneurial hip style to it and is a splendid enhancement to the mix of small shops which still distinguishes Canton as an urban village.

Home then to cook lunch, and afterwards a walk in the park up to Llandaff weir and back. After an early supper we went to choir practice at St Catherine's. At the end I learned that the Advent Carol service for which we were rehearsing is to take place at five a week Sunday, which rules me out for singing as I have an Advent service to take at four over in St German's, so won't be able to do the final rehearsal or turn up on time. Ah well.

Another two part adaptation of a P D James novel in the Channel 5 series 'Dalgleish'. It's quite good, but I'd prefer a two hour movie on one night, rather than having to block time two nights in a row, as seems to be the fashion nowadays.

Safeguarding reprise

With the news story about the Liverpool suicide bomber still unfolding, I've been pondering on what led a young asylum seeking convert to Christianity to commit such an act of apostasy in the eyes of all three Abrahamic faiths which incorporate the Ten Commandments. Clearly frustration and despair at having his life on kept hold for so long due to the slowness of his asylum request process generates such desperation. 

He's reported as suffering from poor mental health. He seems to have acted alone, deliberate in planning his attack over the previous six months. None of this says anything about his spiritual state. Three years ago he was baptized and confirmed, leaving aside his identity as an Iraqui muslim to become a member ot the Church of England. Was his religious conversion a lying pretence? Did estrangement from his native culture leave him lonely a stranger in a strange land, despite the welcome and fellowship he received. 

The power of evil to insinuate itself into the lives of the strongest and weakest people alike. Few apart from the most conservative thinking religious people are at ease with talking about 'the Devil' these days, perhaps because such talk has been linked to abusive behaviour in times past. Good though we are at analysing and interpreting human thought and action, we don't have adequate language for thinking about the 'mystery of iniquity' unless we can speak about wickedness at a spiritual level.   

After breakfast today, I had my second two hour Safeguarding Zoom session. It was comprehensive and through, and demanding of attention. Interestingly enough, he session over-ran by ten minutes due to an unscheduled but worthwhile discussion about 'spiritual abuse', a phenomenon not unknown among zealous well meaning Christians, who fail to respect the personal boundaries of others. 

I was quite tired by the end, and could have done with fresh air to clear my head, but there was lunch to cook in time for Clare's return from town. When we'd eaten I went and collected the weekly veggie bag, and then the grocery order from Beanfreaks. 

The plasterer turned up to finish repairing the kitchen wall as I was going out by car on a third excursion to the main Post Office to collect a small parcel which the postman failed to deliver when we were out. Traffic was slow moving, and as I was crawling along, the fuel warning light came on, so before returning home I drove to Tesco's filling station to get petrol. By the time I got back, the plasterer had finished and left. Now we have to wait for the patch to dry out before painting it and the rest of the kitchen walls.

Rufus sent me the document to review he's been working on, which we discussed when we met yesterday. With his agreement I did some editing and revision to make the outreach project it describes presentable. It was only after supper that I got around to a proper walk for the day, in the dark. I've made an effort to optimise daylight hours outdoors and avoid walking in the dark. It's frustrating to run out of hours, but sometimes inevitable.

Autumn in music and pictures

A trip into town straight after breakfast this morning to meet up with Rufus and chat about his ideas for development new voluntary ministry initiatives, now that early retirement has freed him up to do so. 

I walked along the 61 bus route, too impatient to wait for a bus and risk arriving late due to the erratic timing of the service. Inevitably, in between stops, I spotted one behind me in the distance, and decided to see if I could run the hundred plus metres to the next stop to catch it which I did. Moreover my legs didn't turn to lead on my and I wasn't breathless while running, and only breathing a little heavily for a minute or so when the bus moved off. It must be over a year since I last ran for a bus, so it was a surprise to find I can still do it without getting into trouble.

I walked home through Bute Park, where a work team was erecting a pergola-like framework over a path, which around my curiosity. I learned from the foreman that its part of a special Christmas programme of walks through the park in the dark, with light sculptures, one of which I saw illuminated in a test. The site is surrounded by Heras fencing, so it'll be a pay to enter feature I suspect, but even so, what an interesting innovation.

Clare was out at her study group when I got back home, and I cooked a pasta lunch in good time for her return. In the afternoon I walked in Thompson's Park for half an hour taking photos. The weather over the last few days has prompted more colour changes in trees and vegetation. Between pictures waken in Bute Park and Thompson's Park, I uploaded eighteen, and then pursued an idea that came to me of making a slide show of them with musical accompaniment. 

I sent a message to Rachel to ask if she had anything in her repertoire of original compositions which would fit the bill, and by tea time, I'd downloaded a 'cello piece she was commissioned to make two years ago. It's beautifully crafted and atmospheric, and already I've had a couple of tries at selecting slides and timing them to fit her music. It's still a work in progress, so watch this space! Just as well there was nothing on telly to entertain or distract me, as the project occupied the rest of my day  

Family bereavement

After an early breakfast, a share in house cleaning, and then a bereavement call about funeral preparations for a service I'm taking next Monday. Then, a walk to the Co-op to buy a condolance card to send to my cousin Godfrey in North Wales, whose wife Jean died last week in her mid-eighties. She lived with heart trouble for much of her life, including a valve replacement seventeen years ago, and it's remarkable that she lived so long after it. 

His sister Ros, a contemporary of ours, told me this when she rang me yesterday, as I was getting ready for church. We haven't talked since Auntie Ivy's funeral, well before the pandemic started. She lives just half an hour's drive north from Cardiff. It's about time we paid her a visit, while we still can.

While I was out, I collected Clare's eye medication from the pharmacy, and then worked on the four Advent evening services planned for St German's, something I continued with after lunch. This involved lots of text searches, fine editing, cutting and pasting. By the time I'd finished my left wrist was really feeling the strain and needed ibuprofen gel. I don't normally work so intensively on the computer at the same repetitive task, but I wanted to get the job our of the way, in case life does get busier.

After supper, we watched an old 'Fake or Fortune' repeat about the authentication of a couple of paintings by John Constable, then I watched this week's new episode of NCIS before shutting down for the night. 

Remembrance Sunday

A bright sunny morning for celebrating the Eucharist at St German's, no need to worry about not being able to read small print as the church was filled with sunlight. We started at five to eleven to process to the St German's and St Agnes Mission war memorials to read the names of those killed on active service. One was a priest of the parish, serving as a chaplain, and another was a nun of the Wantage Sisters who had a small group working in the parish, killed in a bombing raid. I was struck by the number of families which lost two sons, and shocked to discover several instances where three sons had died. 

At the end of my sermon I posed the rhetorical question about learning the lesson that in war everybody loses, even the very earth we stand on, saying "When will we ever learn." I then took a risk and invited the congregation to join me in singing 'Where have all the Flowers Gone?', the peacenik's anthem from when we were young. To my delight the congregation of two dozen joined in and sang very nicely. "You see Father, we're all of that age aren't we? said Mike the Lay Reader

In the evening there was a Remembrance Sunday 'Antiques Road Show' programme, shot on location in Étaples war cemetery on the Pas de Calais coast near Abbeville, in which people with memorabilia from the First World War showed and talked about the people to whom they belonged, a remarkable moving programme. I believe my Great Uncle Alfred is buried there.

The traffic congestion was terrible returning from church, and a fifteen minute journey took thirty five. I must try a different route next Sunday. I sat down to digest my lunch and to my surprise slept for an hour and a half, before going out for a walk, while Clare hosted her monthly study group meeting for the first time chez nous. When I came back from walking I suddenly developed a severe stomach cramp, which has happened before, quite specifically if I eat dairy milk chocolate, or anything else with butter in, which may have happened inadvertently twice earlier in the day. My gall bladder inefficiency means that I don't generate enough bile to tackle dairy fats. Fortunately a doze of Swedish Bitters in water works to restore the imbalance in the digestive fluids, and saves hours of stomach misery.

We watched another episode of 'Show Trial' after the 'Antiques Road Show'. It's quite a complex account of a crime seeing it from all angles - police, lawyers, victims and suspects and their families. It's difficult to remember who's who when it switches from one scene to another. If it was American made, each scene might be given it's own title to remind the audience of where they are, before they go channel hopping. As it's still a mystery as to who among the suspects is the perpetrator, and British made, it makes you work.

Tax done

Having got to bed a little earlier last night, I woke refreshed at first light, and after breakfast was out in the park walking to Aldi for a couple of bottles of their Chianti, which is quite good for a low priced wine, and the to B&M to shop for portable lights. I returned with a LED lamp with a crocodile clip for fixing it to a desk, something I hope will come in useful if my eyes play tricks on me again in low light conditions. It's powered through a USB2 cable you can attach to a phone or a power pack, which makes it easy to adapt in any situation I find myself in. It's go in my grab bag, along with face mask, spare specs, alb and stole.

Then, there was the water rates bill to pay on-line before cooking lunch, a Sunday sermon to complete and print, and after lunch, my tax return to do. This I managed to complete in just a couple of hours. The entire process is simplified nowadays. I wasn't asked for information from my P60 annual income statements, as used to be the case. I suppose this PAYE data is now submitted to HMRC directly when issued. I don't get any income from non PAYE sources apart from locum fees for which I don;t have to be registered as self employed. Finding somewhere to enter this is not obvious, so it ends up doing in the 'extra information' box. It must register somewhere, as is revealed in the amount of tax I pay. Glad that chore is done now.

I cooked a squash and lentil soup for supper, in time for Clare's return home, just after seven. I watched the first of six episodes of the Steig Larsson's 2010 'Millennium Trilogy' and realised that I'd seen it before bundled into three hour and a half movies several years ago. Also I read the book on the second occasion I did locum duty in Montreux, where I found it in the church lending library, reading it to occupy my mind in the days when I was waiting to travel home, poorly with abscess infection running rampant. It's quite an interesting of convoluted story, but horribly violent on times. I wondered if I should have bothered to re-visit it.

Sobering prospects

A day of changeable weather, sun and wind, clouds and rain. Clare went off on the train the Kenilworth to join Kath for a Carnival Choir concert rehearsal in Birmingham. There were two loads of washing to be finished off. The second one, I put out on the line to blow in the wind, but after a couple hours I had to bring it in and hang everything indoors when it began to rain. 

Details landed of another funeral for me to take in ten days time. Fr Dyfrig the Area Dean sent me the St German's December duty rota, confirming  my engagements there until the end of the year. If had an email too from Emma the diocese in Europe locum co-ordinator. It seems possible I'll be asked to do duties abroad next spring, once I get to the top of the Euro Safeguarding training queue. There are plenty of vacancies at the moment, that's for user.

I spent most of the morning editing the sound file and adding pictures to it for next Thursday's Morning Prayer video. After cooking and eating lunch, I walked in the park with intermittent gusts of wind and rain showers. The changing colours are lovely. I took one picture that to my mind summarises autumn.

               

With nothing also calling for my attention, I whiled away the entire evening relaxing in front of the telly, wondering what next year will bring my way, at home or abroad, maybe both. It will be two years since I last left the country next March, and covid has changed the world so much since then, even if efforts to return things to a semblance of normality abound everywhere in Europe. 

Effective treatments are being developed, and infection surges will happen, unless more effective means of controlling contagion are put into practice universally. At the moment the UK covid infection and death rate is falling back, but in some European countries it isn't. Each is different and the reasons are complex. The word 'pandemic' is used less frequently now, and replaced by the adjective 'endemic' meaning we're stuck with the risk of covid for the foreseeable future, just as we are with 'flu.

COP26 finishes today, with significant progress being made in commitments to glocal carbon reduction, though still not sufficient to reduce global heating to 1,5C, which was the key aim of the conference. All in all, it's a much greater threat to the health of planet, and our own future, than covid is.

A busy Armistice Day

Up at seven thirty to post the Morning Prayer link on the Parish WhatsApp thread, then back to bed for an hour before breakfast. Then I went to the Eucharist at St John's, not expecting to celebrate. I got there just in time and found a few people outside waiting with worried looks for a priest to turn up. I didn't have it in my dairy, though intended attending, not sure why. I had my alb with me anyway, as I planned to stay on until it was time to officiate at the funeral of the day, and soon had everything ready for Mass, so we only started five minutes late.

The timing of the Eucharist was just right to to stop for the two minutes silence at eleven, which I was glad about. After the service I realised that I'd forgotten to print out the list of attendees at the funeral needing to be checked in for track and trace purposes, so I had to go home and do that. As ever, Windows was terribly slow, with a five minute job taking fifteen due to a string of updates in the throes of updating, just when I most needed it to be quick. It really is unacceptable, unfit for purpose. Anyway I had enough time to prepare all the veggies for lunch before returning to church with half an hour to spare.

 

The deceased was in his mid eighties with a big family, but also well known locally, so were more than double the number of attendees listed as signing in for the service. Heaven help us if anything untoward happens. It's very difficult to control a crowd of stubborn people who feel slighted and entitled to enter their parish church, if they are refused - the one they rarely attend, and a large number won't wear a mask since being double or triple vaccination. Even when asked to wear a mask for the safe of others people self-exempt, and not for medical reasons.

Still the service went off fine, apart from the fact that it had the wrong start time on the cover, two typos and the logo of another funeral company on the back. How that happened I don't know, but Pidegons, who arranged the funeral weren't pleased as they hadn't been asked to produce the leaflet, only to hand it out!

When I got back from the cemetery at three, my cooked lunch was warm and waiting for me. Then, a walk in the park before dark and an early supper as we both went to choir practice at St Catherine's, preparing for Advent, before ending the evening with another episode of 'Dalgliesh', this one a two parter finishing tomorrow. Then winding up a surprisingly full and tiring day.

Now we're covid passport holders

After downloading my digital covid passport last night, I heard the news that the Welsh Government has now made showing this pass a requirement of attending theatres and convert venues, as well as clubs. It came as a complete surprise, though it's understandable as the infection statistics in Wales aren't reducing as hoped for.  Clare set to work on registering to obtain hers after I returned from celebrating Mass at Saint German's this morning. Interestingly enough, confirmation of her verification by face recognition email  took six hours to arrive, whereas mine, yesterday evening took a matter of minutes.

I had a most disconcerting experience during Mass. When I began to read the collect and scriptures from the daily lectionary book, admittedly small print, my eyes wouldn't focus well enough to be able to read the text. It's the first time this has happened. I know I need bright light to read by, and generally speaking with the correct reading glassed can tackle small print. St German's is blessed with much natural light and with electric lights are more than enough for ordinary purposes. I haven't had this problem there before but this morning the sky was dark grey and the light levels low enough for my eyes not to work properly. 

It was a most distressing experience, which fortunately everyone took in their stride. It was something to do with the cataracts I am waiting to have dealt with I think. Anyway, Clare has come up with a small clip on LED light that can attach to the edge of a book cover and shine directly on the page. That should make a difference in future.

When I was trying to help Clare with her covid pass application, a realised there was a problem with her computer which she had noticed but put up with uncomplainingly hitherto. The window minimisation sequence seemed not to work. It seemed just to close a window instead. I searched the Linux Mint forum and discovered that the toolbar at the bottom of the page has lots more ways to configure than I have ever realised, and one of these is the facility to display minimised windows or not. It was switched off! As soon as a switched it on, a dozen minimised windows became visible and needed closing because redundant. It seems odd that something like that would be switched off by default.

We had a lovely salmon soup for lunch as Clare had bought a month's worth of fish at Ashton's to freeze. Then for supper we had some laver bread, with a slice of organic sourdough rye bread which I bought in Beanfreaks when I went to collect Clare's weekly order.

In the evening we watched 'The Repair Shop' and Scottish crimme 'Shetland' before bringing the day to an end. I'm wondering how it is going to be possible to curb the covid infection rate if vaccinations don't turn out to be the hoped for magic bullet. Social distancing is becoming a thing of the past and mask wearing even where obligatory seems more like optional. Breaking news tonight from COP26, where the USA and China, the world's top industrial polluters, have agreed to work in partnership on carbon reduction, though it is far to soon to understand how this will work out.

Safeguarding training resumes

At last, after breakfast, the two hour Zoom Safeguarding conference I've been waiting for with the Church in Wales Safeguarding trainer, and nearly thirty trainees from all over the Province. For the most part, we were talked to, clearly and straightforwardly or shown slides and video. The presentations were carefully constructed to build the framework within which Safeguarding procedure makes sense. More of that next week. The course content showed signs of relevant recent updating around on-line issues, which is good. There were two five minute slots for breakout groups of 4-5 people, not long enough to my mind, to get acquainted and open up, but yes, it was all worthwhile nevertheless.

Zoom worked as designed with no serious glitches except the odd bout of microphone feedback. Next week's session is at the same time, ten o'clock, which means I'll have to forego the weekly 'Class Mass' at St German's. It's a sacrifice, but I have no alternative to complete the course asap. It's a precondition of my next application for Permission to Officiate, due in the New Year. 

Once I've done this it'll be necessary to approach the Diocese in Europe Safeguarding team and request to re-start their programme, which I failed to complete eight months ago, because I got the start time of the Zoom session wrong - CET not GMT, the same before or after brexit - what a fool I am! Tonight I emailed the diocesan Safeguarding training officer, to re-activate the equivalent process for Europe.

I went out for a walk to clear my head after two hours glued to the computer Zooming, while Clare cooked us a delicious lentil and veg curry. I went out again after lunch and walked again, talking on the phone with Ashley, as we hadn't spoken for two weeks. This month, he told me, Cardiff Business Safe Limited will finally, officially cease trading, then our office in Motorpoint Arena will be shut down and cleared out. 

Very little has happened there for the past year and a half because of covid. Not much by way of events happens at the Arena either. I think the place is destined to be shut down, demolished and the site repurposed, for God knows what. The Guildford Place site opposite the Arena is to house an extra tall tower block behind the retro facade of the former row of low rise Victorian buildings. Not more student accommodation? I hope. What the city needs is more low cost social housing, but land and property profiteers seem to rule the roost.

It's Rachel's birthday today, so Kath arranged a family Zoom call, so we can sing her Happy Birthday and tell her how much we miss her. Two Zoom calls in one day. Heavens above!

After a happy birthday half hour with Rachel, including her showing us her garden in Tempe, I thought I'd investigate how to get the NHS 'covid passport'. The NHS website is clear, simple and well presented, but in order to access what you need, you have to establish your identity, setting up an account login with a two stage process then giving your NHS number, not to be confused with your NI number (as I did at first) plus a photo of your passport which is checked by face recognition software using you device's webcam. 

Once they have confirmed your identity you can move on to get what you came for. Except if you're in NHS Wales territory. There is a route within the website to the page where this is available, but I thought it was embedded in a surfeit of information. More prominent one click access would have raised a few less curses against the system. But it it did deliver a QR code in the end, valid for only a month, and there's one for domestic use and another one for international travel. Then I decided to install the NHS app on my Blackberry to repeat the process and down load the QR code to my phone, requiring a complete repeat of the process. At least it seems renewal whenever required is simpler once to have proved you are who NHS England has verified who you are.

It's a lot of hoops to jump through to acquire a digital document I am unlikely to use unless I go abroad, and that's not going to happen this year, for sure. Thank goodness the QR code isn't needed to cross Offa's Dyke. At last a tiny consolation for being England's oldest colony!

Kitchen work

We spent much of the morning removing every moveable object from kitchen surfaces, and then covered surfaces with plastic sheeting, ready for the arrival of damp proofing workers called in to troubleshoot a problem damp path on the wall by the sink. It appears this problem was caused by the material used by builders to remedy the problem last time this happened. We're fortunate that the work has a guarantee for life on it, so we're able to call upon the company which did the cavity wall insulation to do the work.

When we finished, we had a picnic lunch in the lounge, and then I walked to the Castle to place my small Remembrance cross in the Garden of Remembrance. Subscribing RBL members are now issued with their cross in their autumn mailing. A good idea to my mind. People write on their crosses the names of people lost, family, friends and colleagues. The garden is arranged in sections by year subdivided into regiments squadrons and other units, from 1914 through the 2021. 

The sheer volume of crosses representing the first and second world wars is a stark reminder of the scale of loss, and it continues to happen. Each year of the twenty first century contains crosses, albeit fewer since British forces withdrew from the Middle East and Afghanistan. My cross was dedicated to Great Uncles Will and Alf, and members of the Armed Forces Chaplaincy division killed putting themselves in harm's way to minister to others in mortal danger.

When I got home I found that the workmen were already on their way out. The method of removing surface plaster and the offending plaster board beneath was chosen to minimise the production of dust, so our dust covering work wasn't entirely necessary. In half an hour, dust sheets were packed away and everything was back in its place. The plasterer comes tomorrow, then the painter the day after.

Anticipating that the kitchen might be out of action, we booked a supper table at Stefano's. I seemed a good excuse for dining out. We had a most enjoyable meal and were back home by eight fifteen, watching 'Fake or Fortune', a fascinating essay in Impressionist fin de siècle art history. Then this week's new NCIS episode, before turning in for the night.

Fruitful Sunday

The traffic was quite light when I drove to St German's to celebrate the Eucharist this morning, though not on the return journey, and again I got back for lunch at half past one. Clare said that St Catherine's organist Colin was late arriving because of traffic, but he would have been on the move half an hour before me and travelling in the different direction. I daresay there is an observable pattern of congested roads at specific times on the weekend, depending on sports events and people's shopping habits, but nothing is predictable with accuracy. It's just necessary to leave plenty of time for possible delays.

We had fish pie made with sweet potato for lunch, followed by strained puréed crab apple pulp. The juice from five pounds of fruit made five half pound jars of very firm jelly, plus three and a half jars of purée, a lot of work following half an hour's picking but worthwhile for the special taste. I'm looking forward to a gammon steak with puréed crab apples!

St German's church council has agreed to a Carol service on the Sunday before Christmas, and asked for a series of Advent evening services using the Great 'O' antiphons. After lunch I found a digital copy of the key Anglican occasional services text of the book 'From Advent to Candlemass', and devised a form of Evening Prayer using material from it, for approval. It's great they're keen to do something. and not just run minimally during the period of ministerial vacancy.

I went for a walk up to the Cathedral mid afternoon, too late to be there for the start of Evensong, but it was lovely as a walked past to hear the choir within singing the Gloria of the Psalm and as I was leaving, the Magnificat. The colours produced by the setting sun as I walked by the side of the Taff were glorious.

As soon as I got back, I recorded and edited the audio for this week's Morning Prayer on Armistice Day and added this to the selection of photos I made straight after lunch and edited the slide timings, uploading to YouTube after supper. Slowly, steadily I'm getting used to this routine, so production has fewer glitches or slow-downs, and the process of creation takes three to four hours a week nowadays.

In the evening, we sat and watched the latest BBC crimmie serial 'Showtrial' together. I didn't watch the first episode last week, as I had other things to do, but having had a satisfactory and productive day so far, I made myself sit and watch something/anything, as last Sunday I worked for too long at the computer and ended up with a nose bleed.

Reflections on Abba

Yesterday afternoon's booster jab didn't begin to take effect if that's the right word, until I went to bed. I was up and down five times peeing in the night, as my body sought to eliminate the by products of the vaccine as it made anti-bodies. After our Saturday lie-in and pancake breakfast, I realised that I was quite dehydrated and had to drink a liter and a half of water to make up for what I'd lost overnight. Thirty hours on I still have what I call a 'toxic head', not as bad as a hangover, but a bit like when you try to cure jet-lag by overdosing on caffeine. Fresh air and exercise dispel the worst of it. Pity it rained all morning.

I drove Clare to Penarth with Owain's saxophone, where there's a musical instrument repair shop, as it needs servicing, having not been played for decades. Jasmine is going to play it with Clare accompanying her when she comes to us for New Year. She's in her school Jazz orchestra and loving it. Clare came away with a musical self tutorial book to help her adventure into learning to play Jazz piano.

After lunch, the rain stopped and we went out and walked together in Llandaff Fields for half an hour. She decided to return home while I continued walking down to the river and around Pontcanna Fields, hoping to clear my head. Just after sunset, we drove over to Rumney for Chris to give both of us haircuts. Rain had resumed and driving on the busy A48 was a nightmare which made me feel very nervous, as my eyes don't adjust well enough for wet conditions in the dark, with bright headlights, deep shadows and the road markings made almost invisible by the wet surface. That's the last time I go driving in the rain after dark. Things will improve after a cataract operation but that could be a year away from now.

In the evening there was an interview with Bjorn and Benny the male members of Abba, reflecting on the musical journey the group has taken over the past forty years. The two of them were key creators in the making of the stage musical 'Mamma Mia' and the two movies that followed on from it. It was interesting, but I felt that I needed to take a walk in the fresh night and see if I could clear my head before turning in. Fortunately the rain had stopped, and I felt better for dragging myself away from the telly.

Find the vaccination centre nightmare

The crab apples that I picked yesterday needed to be de-stalked and cut up before cooking. Over two kilo's worth, and a long fiddly job. After a morning walk around Thompson's Park, I finished what Clare had started, both before and after cooking lunch, with just the last mugful to finish off when we got back from our booster jab appointment.

Our appointments were at the Bay vaccination centre and we left in good time, following Google Maps instructions to the post code in the Sports Village area. We reached the road in question, but there was no signage to indicate where the centre is. There was just a wide open entrance gate to the site with a large No Parking notice, and traffic cones along the entry verges. From this vantage point the large warehouse in use wasn't visible. We'd learned earlier that the warehouse housed the 'Toys 'r Us' store which closed several  years ago, but no signage remained to offer a clue to the identity of the place. And there was nobody about to ask. For anyone as unfamiliar with this part of Cardiff as we are, the total lack of signage was utterly reprehensible.

I concluded that we'd not found the right place and drove around through an area of anonymous blocks of buildings searching. In desperation, Clare phoned a friend who lives locally and had her booster jab earlier this week. It was easier to come and show us rather than instruct us, she said, and drove to meet us at the Morrison's supermarket filling station to guide us there. She too experienced the same difficulty finding the place, and thought instructions would make no sense to anyone unfamiliar with the area. It was so kind of her to come and show us the way. She led us back to the entrance where the sat-nav guided us and drove in, round a blind corner into a huge parking lot next to the huge warehouse that was our destination.

There was a short queue to register. It didn't matter that we were twenty minutes late. It seems delays and queues are normal, as people are being encouraged just to turn up, even if they don't have an appointment. Uptake of the booster jab hasn't been as fast as hoped for. The vaccination booths are numbered up to fifty and not all of them were in use when we were there. There was a waiting area with chairs to accommodate up to sixty at a time, with twenty people waiting. After just ten minutes, we were ushered into a cubicle together and interrogated by a recently retired doctor, a chatty Irishman. In twenty minutes we'd both been jabbed with the Pfizer booster vaccine and sent to the recovery zone beyond the waiting area. With seats facing the exit, and facing a wall clock, so we'd know when the required fifteen minutes wait before departure was over. 

Everybody at the centre was friendly and helpful, but the total lack of signage utterly reprehensible. How many more people had the same difficulty finding the place as we did? The address and post code on the six pages of literature from NHS Wales couldn't have been clearer, perhaps an outline map graphic on one of the information sheets would have helped, but no road signs? An A-board with a chalk notice on it would have sufficed. How many people have been deterred from getting the jab by this totally avoidable omission? On reflection, a 999 call to the emergency services might have been effective, but a nuisance for them.

When we returned home I did the last mugful of crab apples and but them on the stove to stew for a few hours. Then after supper, Clare got out the straining bag and loaded with stewed fruits into it, and between us we hung the loaded bag from an upside down stool, dripping precious liquid into a bowl overnight. Then we settled down to watch a telly version of a P D James' novel in a new series called 'Dalgliesh' on Channel 5 - he's the detective who features in her stories. It's set in the mid seventies, making it a recent history drama. And so to bed.

RWCMD in concert

Despite falling asleep the way I did last night before getting ready for bed, I slept through until seven, put the radio on to listen to the news, and then fell asleep again for another hour. I must have needed it. After breakfast, Clare went off to school, and I walked to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist with nine others, then returned to cook lunch.

I made a bereavement phone call but the next of kin I spoke with had handed over responsibility to three of his nieces to organise. He told me they were going to visit Pidgeons funeral office some time today to finalise the plans, so I emailed John the funeral arranger and asked him to pass my phone number over to whoever was taking the lead on this. 

Mid afternoon, I walked over to the crab apple trees in Llandaff Fields, whose branches are packed and heavily laden with fruit, and in half an hour picked over four pounds to turn into jelly. The most densely packed branches were out of reach with no walking stick or grabber to bring them into reach, so I only got the relatively low hanging fruit, bit it was a good start. The question is, do we have enough empty jam jars to fill? A call came in while I was out from one of the nieces, and I returned it and gathered information I needed for next Thursday's funeral. Area Dean Fr Dyfrig rang up to confirm with me the St German's duty rota for the next couple of months, so now I can put more dates in my diary. 

We had supper early, then walked into town to attend the Royal Welsh College Symphony Orchestra's first public concert since lock-down started at the St David's Hall. Beforehand there was a drinks reception for RWCMD members in the upper lounge, where we we delighted to meet Sir Norman Lloyd Edwards, one of the College patrons I think. How goo to do nomral social things again, even if we were popping masks on and off when we moved around or sat in the concert hall.

The second half of the concert was taken with a Tchaikovsky symphony, and the first half ended with Mozart's clarinet concerto, played by the winner of the College's concerto prize last year. The soloist was a young man who was beautifully expressive in his playing. Before his first entry he stood and listened to the orchestra in the attentive way a singer would. It was as if he was singing the whole piece through his instrument. So impressive. It's a piece we both know well but this is the first time we recall hearing it live in concert, which brings home its emotional depth in a way no recording can do.

The opening work was Mighty River by ground breaking black composer Errolyn Wallen born in Belize and now living in the UK. We give given the news that she's accepted to be the College's Composer in Residence for the next three years, writing and teaching. She was introduced by Tim Rhys Evans, and after the performance of her work, she took a bow and was given a special round of applause. 

Mighty River is a richly textured piece of music, a flowing soundscape with complex cross rhythms and harmonies, taking full advantage of the fifty plus musicians who were playing, including two harps! I'd like to hear this again, several times, just to take it all in. 

Afterwards we walked to Westgate Street where we found a number 17 bus we could take to Cowbridge Road East, then walked the last half mile home, thrilled to have been in a live audience again. Booster jabs tomorrow afternoon.

The Class Mass resumes

This morning's Mass at St German's was special. For the first time since the pandemic a group of three dozen children joined the regular congregation of six. As they were  all from the year six group, they were old enough to have been before and be used to the service. It meant that I was able to lead them in singing a few familiar choruses, as I used to do on locum duty in times past.

The new head teacher at Tredegarville, Vicky Constantinou, started work on Monday, so after the service I went down to the school to introduce myself and welcome her. She's promised herself to join a group of children and see for herself what happens next week or the week after.

When I got home I went straight out again and fetched the week's veggie bag. After lunch I went into town on the bus part of the way, to save time, and caught a bus part of the way on the return trip for the same reason. I wanted to buy a computer mouse, as the one I most often use has lost its clicking sensitivity. It could be easy to fix if only I could work out how to open it up without breaking it, so I took the least desirable line of action and shopped for a new one. 

To my surprise the only well stocked digital hardware retailer in the city centre, John Lewis, doesn't stock them. The Curry's tech store in St David's centre closed during lock-down, but fortunately Ryman's in Queen's Arcade still sells a variety of computer peripherals and office supplies, and there was a choice of half a dozen on its shelves. Bravo!

It was so pleasing to see St John's City Parish Church open again on a weekday, as it was closed during lock-down, and only opened for the Sunday Eucharist once this became permissible. Now 'Cards for Good Causes' has opened its Christmas pop-up shop in the north aisle and the public is free to entre and pray as well as buy cards. It was quiet when I went in, and apart from the shop, the lights weren't on and the nave was quiet and empty. Eight happy years of my final ministry appointment were spent here. It seems a long time ago now. Already many if not most of the people who were actively engaged have died or moved on, and been replaced by others, so it's the same building, but a different place for me now.

I cooked a soup for supper using the dark green tops that are often tough of the two huge leeks that were in our veggie bag. According to Clare it didn't have a distinctively leeky flavour. At least it looked green! We watched a couple of laugh out loud episodes of M*A*S*H after supper, and then I went upstairs to do my smartphone Duo Lingo daily drill, and some writing before turning in for the night. For no accountable reason I was overwhelmed with drowsiness and fell asleep fully clothed with the Blackberry in my hand, sleeping for an hour and a half before ending the day properly.

Training postponed

I was in bed by eleven and woke up to seven thirty. My fit-bit app congratulated me for getting to be at the right time and sleeping the right number of hours. I can't remember when it last did that, it's so long. As the device was charging during the night, I entered the time data manually. Such foolishness to think that kind of message does anything other than annoy. I woke up several times in the night. Before first light, I saw the bright crescent of a waning moon rising in a clear chilly sky. Wondrously beautiful.

Thanks to early rising I was out walking in the park by nine thirty, clad my winter jacket, scarf and gloves. Recent rain and cold weather have accelerated the colour change of the trees, all are now washed with gold. I went down the Taff Trail on the east side of the river, and saw a cormorant perched precariously on the overhanging branch of the limb of a tree fallen into the river, and regretted not having a camera with me. I used my Blackberry phone, but it doesn't zoom into subjects much at all and the quality isn't good, but here it is.

While I was out I had a message to say that this afternoon's Safeguarding zoom had to be cancelled due to the sickness of the trainer. Thanks to the same Blackberry phone, I consulted my diary and responded to the request for a re-booking appointment next Tuesday morning. I returned at eleven and worked for an hour completing this Thursday's Morning Prayer video, then Clare arrived from her study group, so I downed tools and cooked lunch, and finished the job afterwards.

When Clare woke up from her fiesta we went shopping together, first to Wickes on Western Avenue to get dust covers for the kitchen, due for them remedial work on the plaster. We discovered that Wickes had closed during the pandemic and been replaced by a budget supermarket called B&W, We drove out to the B&Q superstore at Culverhouse Cross to get what we needed, but not before a visit to Aldi's for the week's grocery shopping. We both observed that it's a long time since we did anything quite so domestic together, and certainly by car, as normally we walk to the shops locally.

Having agreed with Brian the organist a possible programme for an Advent Sunday Mass with a RWCMD choir singing at Saint Germans, I sent our proposals to Andrea for consideration. It's not as big a challenge as last Sunday's, but that will probably be welcomed, as it's only a week after a special afternoon music by students who have been rehearsing in church all term. 

I had intended to go to this evening's All Soul's Mass at St Luke's, but got distracted by other things I was doing after returning from the shops and ended not going, rather than turning up late. We watched some old comedy programmes on telly after supper and then a really interesting documentary about the remarkable paintings of Vermeer on Sky Arts. 

Now, early to bed, as I have a ten o'clock Mass at St German's tomorrow morning, with a class of children from Tredegarville School attending, young kids for whom this will be a new experience as the 'class Masses' stopped for the past eighteen months of the pandemic.

Safeguarding re-training

This morning, after breakast and vacuuming the carpets, I made an effort to get out of the house and walk, to make the most of a sunny morning. Leaving daily exercise till the afternoon often means in autumn and winter I end up walking in the dark for part of the time. I'm not concerned about safety after dark, but not benefiting from the optimum amount of daylight.

Clare had started chopping vegetable by the time I got back, and I took over cooking a sauce to go with pasta so she could get on with other things. Then after lunch, I did the new Church In Wales on-line basic safeguarding training. It's a slight improvement on what I did four years ago, using the Moodle on-line learning tool. It's one annoyance is the use of backing music over speech with subtitles that has a catchy pop beat. You can't switch that off if you find it distracting. A pity.

I needed a couple of tries to get 100% of the Q&A right as there were a couple of small points where I felt the correct answer was debatable. There's no discussion or feedback. This is a training in compliance, not thinking for yourself. Hopefully this comes later, in the stage two modules. Tomorrow afternoon I do the first part of stage two in a zoom session. I hope it works properly. I hate having to do these things on-line. Will we ever go back to making face to face meetings the default?

Then I produced an edit of yesterday's liturgy with just the pieces sun by the choir. With the prospect of a similar service for Advent Sunday, I researched on-line for suitable music to discuss before proposing a selection to Andrea at RWCMD. We received plan for an afternoon programme of live music by RWCMD students on 20th November, a special thank you for their use of St German's this term. Clare is delighted as it includes an 'AmserJazzTime' hour at the end.

After supper and the Archers in the evening we watched a new episode of NCIS together and then started the slow journey to get to bed a bit earlier, and benefit a bit appropriately from darkness