Woolly surprise

When I finally woke up at nine, I uploaded my second WhatsApp link of the week to the Daily Office video I'd done instead of Fr Rhys. Before lunch I went for a walk around the park. The Urdd rugby tournament still hasn't finished. I saw several senior girls matches being played. Interesting to hear how the noise generated by players and spectators alike is so much more high pitched than when it's boys playing.

I drove myself to the so called 'New Section' of Cathay's cemetery to say some prayers at the interment of ashes in the family grave of a man whose funeral I did back in March. It rained hail and sleet for a while while I was travelling. I arrived early and met the mourners, then the cemetery manager found us waiting and took us to the far corner where the grave was located. 

Cathay's cemetery was opened a hundred and sixty three years ago. The 'New Section' isn't new at all. Back in the 1970s, when the A48 Eastern Avenue urban freeway was constructed, it divided the original cemetery into two parts. Because of its proximity to the nearby Heath Hospital, many service personnel treated there in both world wars who died were buried therein. Six hundred and eighty five of them in all, British and Commenwealth personnel.

I thought I hadn't been to this part of the vast East side city burial ground, the third largest in the UK, but when we reached the grave I realised I'd been here for a funeral back in my early days at St John's City Parish Church. Not far from the opened grave, I recognised a small marble memorial marking the mass grave of victims of the 1941 blitz bombing of a residential street in Butetown and seafarers hostel. Several people buried there were unidentifiable, others were children. A mass killing like that of people in Kramatorsk train station this morning. 

Despite a good nine hours sleep last night, I dozed off for an hour in the chair when I returned from the cemetery. Then I went out again for another walk. On my way back I saw that the Post Office box on the corner of Conway Road had been decorated with a delightful colourful knitted cap covered with figures.

A fine example of 'guerilla knitting' - not something we see a lot of around here!

This evening I started watching a new French crimmie on More Four, called 'A l'interieur'. Strangely, it lacked a first episode, so it was a question of guessing where it was set and what happened to start with. Twice, when it reached the advertisement break, the streaming player crashed and the system had to be re-started, and there were long silent gaps between advertisements, as if the entire thing had not been properly edited together to fit the prescribed timing. It passed the time while I was waiting for part two of 'The Crimson Rivers'. It was even more implausible, badly written and badly acted than last week. Quite the worst French flic movie I have ever seen.