There were just five of us to celebrate the feast of the Epiphany at St John's this morning. Wintry weather and covid angst are discouraging older people from routine pursuits. It began to pour down as I left after the service and my topcoat, which only showerproof got thoroughly soaked walking home. When I called into our HSBC branch to bank a cheque three of six automatic bank teller machines were out of service, including the two that allow one to pay in cheques.
It's less than six months since branch counter service was closed for good. The six machines have been there for several years, and if they are breaking down now it must be something to do with their increased usage in the absence of friendly faces. I was only able to bank a cheque because there are a couple of front of house staff who deal with queries and help customers who have problems with machines which are not entirely user-friendly or state of the art.
On top of their front of house client triage duties, deciding which back office staff need to be called upon or arrange interviews with, they now have to act as bank tellers for paying in cheques. They are not in a secure booth with a client window, but in front of a perspex screen, meant to give added protection against having covid laden breath in their faces. It's insecure and a farce in terms of healthy customer relations.
Clare was busy repairing a piece of jewellery when I arrived home, so I cooked lunch, using a couple of fillets of Basa a Vietnamese Mekong Delta fish she'd bought a freezer pack of in Iceland. It was good resembling hake. We'd never had it before. Oh but think of those food air miles! I don't think she knew its origin when she bought it. She has also booked us into the Oxwich Bay hotel for the weekend after next as I have no Sunday duties. There's a bargain two for one bed and breakfast special offer on! Kath will come and join us for some time out in her hard working life.
I've picked up a fourth funeral for a week Friday, with a family run funeral company new to Cardiff called 'Ivor Thomas Funerals Ltd', working in Caerphilly and Barry, based in Whitchurch. Last year, independent Funeral company Coles of Rumney opened two branches in the city. Can these family business funeral companies make a living nowadays. The very local undertaker was the norm in the first three quarters of the twentieth century, but with few exceptions got taken over by big funeral chains like Co-op or Dignity. Independents these days tend to be bankrolled by a specialised investment companies, which allow them to keep their local family identity and maintain the same standards as the big chains. Interesting times.
Finally the social worker dealing with tomorrow's funeral got back to me with a little information that will help me in finishing the tribute to the deceased. It's not got much personal detail, but it reminds mourners of what society owes to generations of builders labourers, in the days before machinery took over many of the most arduous jobs they did.
It rained from mid morning until it got dark, only then was I able to get out and walk for an hour without getting soaked again. It was cold enough anyway under a clear night sky under a waxing crescent moon. Clare went to choir practice. I needed to work, and when I'd finished watched an episode of 'Escape to the Chateau', something I've rarely watched before. Before I knew it, its was time for bed again. Days slip by so fast it seems.
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