Wriggle triumphant

This morning after breakfast Kath and Rhiannon accompanied us for the drive to Warwick University Arts Centre car parking prior to the final Wriggledance performance of 'Squidge' in the studio theatre, with enough space for equipment and two dozen children with parents to participate in the interactive performance. It was wonderful to witness the live performance and the response of the very young audience to the two dancers who played their part so beautifully. 

Anto, as the accompanying musician and sound effects man was in his element, a real Pied Piper on stage. It was very gentle and sensitive in approach to allowing children to join in on their own terms, either playing or just sitting an wondering at the ever changing stage lights and movement of the artists. The 28 stage tour has been a lot of hard work, fraught with technical difficulty, and thankfully it's been very well received. Quite a feat to attract audiences at the tail end of a pandemic.

Taking photos in a high contrast studio environment with lots of movement was quite a challenge. I was a bit nervous about the task at first, sitting at the back on a chair, shooting over the audience heads, but the Olympus responded well most of the time. My photos are here.

After the show, we took Rhiannon back to Kenilworth and bought food for a picnic lunch on the journey home. Kath and Anto had to stay behind to strike the set and pack up all the equipment. And when that's done, there'll be reports to write for the Arts Council. What next from Wriggledance I wonder?

There were a few rain showers as we drove south and west. We stopped to eat in a Costa coffee car park outside Evesham, reached home after four and then went for a walk in the park before supper. It was a relief to find that Clare coped well with the two and a half hour journey and only one break en route in both directions. That's more time sitting without pain and discomfort than has been possible until now, a positive step on the way to full recovery.

Later in the evening I watched yesterday's episode of 'Silent Witness' before watching this evening's, the fourth of a series of six episodes which seem to be linked together by some sort of spy thriller intrigue sub plot alongside the usual run of forensic investigation into untimely deaths. Some interesting new characters in the current series, as well as the return of Amanda Burton reprising her previous role - or is she? Always the goodie two shoes in the early years of this long running dramatic marathon, now she seems to have changed, and it's not just a question of being twenty years older.

Secrets of the Museum - in the flesh

This morning after breakfast, Peter collected me to drive to the National Museum's Industrial storehouse in Nantgarw for a tour especially arranged by Mike. We picked up Richard on the way there, and when fully assembled our group was fourteen strong. The first half of the visit was a session with one of the conservators showing us how she and her colleagues set about conserving and restoring a diverse range of historical artefacts donated. It was just like being in a live episode of TV's 'Secrets of the Museum' one of my favourite regular must see programmes.

We were told about a Guest Keen and Nettlefold iron works World War One memorial to fallen employees, recovered from a demolition skip by a police officer, remaining in his garage for twenty years. As the centenary of the Great War approached, he finally got around to offering it to the museum as an item of industrial heritage. After half a century covered in a layer of black pain, the brass memorial is in pristine condition again. Bronze casted in a single mould, it's possible this was made by craftsmen colleagues in the same works. Its full provenance has yet to be discovered, however.

Then we were shown  a rather ugly decorated clay pot with a grinning man's head on it. The pot's lid was broken in several pieces and was put together so skilfully that it was impossible to see the pieces where it had been broken. Then there was a small silver object, a statuette of a horse mounted on the hoof of a horse which belonged to a horse that worked in Senghenydd pit at the time of the 1913 fire that cost over four hundred lives. Hence it was in the hands of an Industrial artefact conservator. Finally we saw some photos of a restored bardic chair from an eisteddfod in Blaenclydach, held on Good Friday in 1903. At this point our session ran out of time, so we didn't get to hear about is provenance, except that it was won by a local miner. It seems to have been customary for Non-Conformist chapels to hold an eisteddfod on Good Friday (a bank holiday and day off for industrial workers in  those days).

The second half of the tour was with an engineering conservator, who showed us a collection of motor vehicles with stories to tell, including the engine from the famous land speed record contender 'Babs' which crashed making a record attempt on Pendine Sands killing Parry Thomas the driver. The wrecked car was buried on the beach for forty years before its remains were retrieved. Apart from the engine a number of large plastic tubs and crates hold the rest of the bits and pieces, awaiting attention.

There are three Gilbern saloon cars - the only car to be designed and made in Wales, a Wessex air sea rescue helicopter, an Edwardian tram, an electric trolley bus, a horse drawn hearse, a couple of steam engines, motor bikes and ancient bicycles, railway carriages, not to mention many industrial engines used to power manufacturing equipment - almost all in need of restoration. There are decades of work for conservators, if ever funding should be available. There are tends of thousands of artefacts great and small in storage here. A fascinating insight into certain aspects of Welsh industrial heritage.

Amazingly, the lawn at the side of the building complex, left to grow wild, untreated with weed killer has produced a rich diversity of wild flowers including two orchid species. I was delighted to see a Common Blue butterfly for the first time this year, and get a slightly blurry photo of it. We had lunch together at a nearby pub called The Pottery, in honour of the original famed Nantgarw pottery nearby. My photos of the visit are here.

Then Peter drove us home, in good time for Clare and I to set off for Kenilworth for an overnight stay. We arrived just after six, and after supper I had time for a late evening walk around the lake down at Abbey Fields, to listen to the birds at twilight. Among the reeds along the side of the lake patches of bright yellow bog irises stand out at dusk, a lovely sight.

Business phone no more

Cold and cloudy today, so different from yesterday. For me, a duty free Sunday. We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, and while we were singing the first hymn, Fr Rhys came up to the back of the nave to where were standing and asked if I'd assist him with the chalice, as the regular assistant minister of the Eucharist wasn't there. 

Later during the offertory hymn, I went to the sacristy and borrowed a stole to wear over my shirt and trousers to identify myself to anyone who might wonder who I was popping up out of nowhere, although most people in church probably have some idea who I am. I think we were about thirty adults and half a dozen children. Interestingly only about half the communicants received the chalice, an indication of persistent nervousness about contagion. Very few are wearing masks in church now, but it's good that nobody feels the need to conform one way or another, such is the respect people have for each other. 

St Catherine's is hosting a Parish Platinum Jubilee garden party next Saturday, then a Summer Fayre two weeks later. That's an immense amount of work for a relatively small number of people, but to judge by previous post-lockdown open air events, it will draw in people from the neighbourhood and further afield.

After lunch, I spent another hour reading 'Invierno en Madrid' before we went for a walk in the park together. Clare's back pain has diminished significantly in the past few days, and she's just left with a dull ache when she rests. It's really cheering news. While we were out, I noticed that my Blackberry was no longer able to send or receive calls and messages. Finally, a month after Ashley requested termination of service, BT acted. Last month Cardiff Business Safe was finally wound up and struck off the Companies' House register. I let Ashley know and we discussed whether or not I could just exchange SIM cards with my PAYG phone. Before supper, I made the swap and found that the Blackberry worked perfectly with the PAYG SIM. 

I have a dim recollection of being told that BT didn't lock its phones to a specific SIM any more. I think this would be necessary for someone who might travel abroad and want to use a native SIM instead of a UK SIM, as is the case for people owning a dual SIM phone. All I needed to do was install WhatsApp on the Blackberry. Most of the archived messages appeared to have transferred, but on close examination a couple of weeks worth were missing, perhaps because they hadn't yet been back up. Not that it matters, there's little of importance that hasn't already been copied elsewhere. 

Then it was a case of decommissioning my six year old Samsung, ready to donate to a recycling charity, when I can find one that will accept it. Fortunately there was nothing on telly that I felt was worth watching, so I finished and uploaded next Thursday's Morning Prayer video, which took me a little longer than I expected. Time to go to bed earlier than usual. Tomorrow, after a visit to our National Museum's collection of motor vehicles not on public display, we go to Kenilworth to stay overnight in order to attend the last performance of 'Squidge' on Tuesday, right at the end of their country-wide tour of a show that's gone down very well indeed with children and parents who have seen it..

Just as I was about to post this, an email came in from Rachel with the ,WAV file of her song 'Chocolate' for which I put together a promotional video slide show a few weeks ago. This is a high quality sound file, YouTube ready. All I had to do was replace the MP3 file in the saved video edit file and send to to her. Now I am pleased with the result.

Open air concert season

Another lovely day of spring sunshine started with an early pancake breakfast, then a lie-in before walking to Llandaff and visiting the Cathedral for the first time in ages. All is back to normal now and there's a trickle of visitors. Gerwyn the Dean announced his resignation last week, after being on sick leave and being in dispute with the Bishop for the past two years. I wonder if he will take on a new job in ministry, or give up on the church altogether? I wonder too who will replace him? The Cathedral has been an unhappy place of late. Whoever takes his place is going to have a difficult time reconciling and rebuilding the community. 

Clare fancied a takeaway for lunch and left me to go and hunt for an Indian meal, but I couldn't find an Indian takeaway open for business in Canton. Our usual fish 'n chip shop was also closed, but eventually I found one that was open and took home freshly cooked chips and two gigantic pieces of cod. We sat out in our sun-filled garden to eat them, and drank a palatable Chilean Pinot Noir to go with the meal, just right,  not too heavy. It was so pleasantly warm that I sat outside and read for an hour while Clare had a siesta, taking advantage of the bright light to read a couple of chapters from 'Invierno en Madrid'. So much better for the eyes than artificial light.

Later, we went for another walk, around Thompson's Park this time. It was unusually quiet. I wondered if young families had gone to the beach. Then I remembered that there's a big Ed Sheeran concert on at the Principality Stadium in town. There's an American rock band playing in the SWALEC stadium too, at the same hour. I noticed that a canopied stage had been erected on the cricket pitch when I was passing by a few days ago. Well, the weather is certainly kind for hosting big open air events at the moment.

After supper I watched Rick Stein's 'Long Weekend' programme, this time set in Thessaloniki. It was a lovely reminder of the rich variety of cooking in a region influenced by centuries of Ottoman rule. We went there in the nineties, travelling by ship from Tinos, where we'd spent a few days. We only stopped a day and a couple of nights, then took the slow train journey down to Athens - a lovely experience. I'm not sure we'd have the stamina to do that kind of trip nowadays, even though the travel conditions are likely to be somewhat improved. There are high speed trains nowadays and the fastest only takes four hours for the 500km journey non stop. That's half the time it took thirty years ago. 

Then another episode of 'Beck' about a cop with extreme views of how to respond to social disorder in a changing world, and resentment towards his superiors which turns murderous. We've had corrupt cops before in this series, but this episode explored how someone with a personality disorder could somehow continue working as a policeman without this being noticed. This is a Swedish crimmie, but reflects the same concern arising in British policing in which racist and sexist behaviour persist despite efforts made to root them out.

Ending of an era

 A bright shnny day with early clouds making away for clear blue sky. I was collected at ten to officiate at a funeral in Thornhill. The smaller Briwnant chapel was full of mourners for a service without hymns but with Paul McCartney singing 'Yesterday' after I gave the eulogy. Paul, one of Pidgeon's drivers was today among the mourners carrying the coffin, having known the deceased and her children for most of his life. 

While we were travelling there, I was passed a note by on of the funeral team asking if I could do another funeral in two weeks time. It will be the second graveside only service I've taken this year. The well appointed chapels, although suitable for the purpose, cannot escape being anonymous and clinical. With a full busy Friday schedule running the place cannot escape having the character of an industrial production line. If it's not raining, I prefer the atmosphere of a simpler open air service accompanied by birdsong.

I set out to walk to the bank in town when I returned, but met Pete and Diana at the Danish bakery and had a coffee with them until it was time for lunch. When I got back, I found that Clare had already cooked in Owain's company. He took the day off to attend the funeral of an eccentric septuagenarian named Rhys who lived just around the corner from us on Llanfair Road. 

In the ten years Owain lived in Meadow Street, he'd been friends with Rhys and his step children. A month before he died, Rhys had called him and chatted for over an hour by way of saying goodbye, as he knew he didn't have long to live. Family and friends gathered outside the house for a quarter of an hour before the hearse arrived, (it was a Green Willow funeral), giving people not attending the funeral a chance to pay their respects and see him off. 

I think that's the first funeral in our neighbourhood since we moved in twelve years ago. Ours is an area with other retired people like us, but with more first time buyers with small families or single people, so the turnover in younger occupants has been high. Several houses are now rented out and renters also tend to be short term occupants.

Owain called in for a cup of tea with us after the funeral before heading back to Bristol, and then Clare and I went out for a walk. We parted company on the riverside path as she wanted to go across to the Royal Welsh College 'Amser Jazz' session, and I needed to head home and get supper ready. In the evening I watched an episode of 'Grace', a real crime thriller, then another episode of 'Nordic Murders' better known in German as 'Usedom krimi' after the ravishing Nordsee coastal island setting where the series is set. These stories are slow paced and explore relationships and characters around tragic events, as much as they are whodunnits. I'm always encouraged to find how much of the German dialogue I can remember, even though its so many years since we spent any time in Germany or Switzerland.

Ground-breaking street theatre recalled

Up at eight, posting the Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp. Clare had already cooked porridge and eaten breakfast. Her back is improving daily now thankfully. I went to the Eucharist at St John's, eight of us were present to celebrate Christ's Ascension. I couldn't stop for coffee and a chat as I had to drive Clare to Splott for her booster vaccination. The roads were busy but we arrived there in good time, and by just after midday we were on our way home again. 

In the news, while I was cooking lunch, the Chancellor announced financial support measures to enable all households to cover the huge rise in energy costs. These benefit poorest households and elderly people most, though every household will get a grant of four hundred pounds towards their increased expenses. It will mitigate the effect of high inflation on household budgets but not eliminate it. Economically it makes sense. A dramatic decrease in everyone's disposable income will impact on consumer spending overall, and risk pushing the country into recession.

After lunch I recorded and edited the audio for next Thursday's Morning Prayer and reflection, then went out for a walk along the Taff. It was windy and there was an unusually fine drizzle at the same time, a bit like having one giant version of one of those mist sprays to moisten the eyes, not enough to dampen my raincoat. I make an effort to walk at a sustained brisk pace, and am disappointed when overtaken by others both young and ten years younger than I. This is what getting old means sad to say.

I watched an episode of 'Art that made us' about the Victorian era on iPlayer, one which I missed, and later watched the final episode in the series on contemporary arts. Both were excellent. The second one showed artists probing the realities of everyday life, posing questions about identity, social exclusion and justice. My only disappointment in the programme was the absence of any comment about the work of Banksy, a major street artist whose witty political satire and social comment touches on the lives and concerns of many who feel marginalised and ill treated by life in today's world.

Actor Michael Sheen recalled the innovative Port Talbot Passion play of 2012, 'The Gospel of Us' in which he played Jesus. It was an amazing piece of street theatre involving ten thousand people, most of them locals. i remember watching a two hour documentary edition of the three day event, but had forgotten that viewing took place in St Mike's a year later in a College event organised by a student in my tutor group. According to Sheen, it was a ground breaking piece of street theatre involving people as both audience and participants at the same time. Many of those present filmed the event on their mobile phones and posted footage on social media, extending the participation virtually perhaps for the first time on such a wide scale. How the world has changed since then!

Partygate reported

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. There were nine of us present. Mother Frances told us about the life of St Bede and his importance to people in the North East of England. She showed us pictures of pages in the Lindisfarne Gospels, which date from Bede's time, and over coffee afterwards revealed that her PhD study had been on these Gospel books.

When I got back I prepared the text for next week's Morning Prayer, ready for recording, and then cooked lunch. After eating I wrote a reflection on the Gerasene demoniac, remembering as I wrote, the trip Clare and I made to Jerash with Frank Dall back in 1998. 

Then I went and collected this week's grocery order from Beanfreaks, and made a separate trip to buy our weekly food bank donation and leave it at St John's. Jobs done, I went for a walk in the park listening to the five o'clock news on my phone. Finally the Sue Gray report investigating goings on in the offices at 10 Downing Street has been released today, strongly criticising the behaviour of politicians and government staff for ignoring lockdown rules. 

Boris Johnson ate humble pie before Parliament again, but shows no sign of resigning. It remains to be seen if the Tory party decide whether or not to believe that he misled Parliament and remove him. A cross party standards committee is also considering the same issue, and if it decided against him and the Tories didn't, that could further damage their prospects of re-election.

This evening, I watched 'The Repair Shop' again, and then there was a lovely documentary on BBC Four about a hermit who lives beside Loch Treig in highland Scotland. Perhaps he's the last of his kind in Britain. He's lived completely off grid for nearly forty years, foraging, fishing and catching rabbits for food. He makes a day's walk into Fort William for other supplies as there's no road to the lake for anything to be delivered. He keeps a detailed journal of every aspect of his life, having got into the habit of writing as a child, and corresponds with people he's met throughout his life and earlier travels. He also takes beautiful landscape and nature photos using a vintage Zenith SLR. 

He was persuaded to have a satellite linked alarm for emergencies, and when he had a stroke he had to be helicoptered to hospital. Since recovering he returned to his log cabin and now checks in weekly, but wonder if he will be able to live out the rest of his days in the wilderness he loves. He's even been visited by a priest whom he requested to come and bless the piece of ground where he wants to be laid to rest. From what he said about his early life, I reckon he's the same age as us.  An amazing story.

Return of an old favourite

Another  bright sunny day, although a little colder. After breakfast, I took some photos of flowers in the garden before hanging out a load of washing to dry. Then I did the week's grocery shop at the Coop while Clare prepared the lunch for cooking in the steamer. All I had to do was switch the stove on, let it cook, then lay the table and serve it up when she returned from her morning walk. It's good to see her slow but sustained improvement. 

I had another exchange of emails with Jean, the chaplaincy worship arranger with a draft of my first Sunday there. A good way to learn about their customised liturgical format. It seems that a variety of Eucharistic prayers are used there from time to time. That'll make a change from using just one of the half a dozen available to use here in Wales.

After lunch, I drafted a eulogy for Friday's funeral and prepared an order of service to go with it. Then I went for a walk around Llandaff Fields. At the edge of a woodland patch a magpie was perched on a fallen branch and didn't move when I drew close to take a photo. There was a flurry of wings and screeches of alarm from another bird, a thrush I think. It dived at the magpie in an aggressive way, then flew past, narrowly missing me. I could hear the same bird in a tree thirty yards away issuing the same angry noise. I wondered if the magpie was too close to the other bird's nest, preventing it from feeding its young, or its hatching eggs.

This evening I watched the first episode of the new 'Silent Witness' series 25 on iPlayer, as I missed it last night, then after a break watched the second episode live. A complex case with evidence capable of being mis-interpreted, with mixed motives and conflicts of interest getting in the way of straightforward scientific enquiry. Amanda Burton returns to the series after seventeen years, playing her older self in the role of the original lead pathologist Sam Ryan, now a senior international figure, and this generates some interesting dramatic tension. It's going to be an interesting series to watch.

Inexplicable

I work up just too late for 'Thought for the Day' and listened on catch-up after I'd heard most of the day's news. Apart from Boris and the Downing Street Partygate scandal news about Ukraine has now slipped down the priority list, displaced by reports on the spread of monkey pox. Yesterday the UN stated that fourteen million people in Ukraine have been driven from their homes by the war. It's looking as if the conflict will drag on for many more months without some unexpected change in the Kremlin. 

The war is costing both sides, and the international community supporting Ukraine vast sums of money. Such a sinful waste of resources and lives, especially when global warming unchecked starts to cause irreversible damage.  Already spring in Andalusia as as hot as normal high summer. What will it be like when we're there I wonder? 

After breakfast I did my share of the housework, then cooked lentils and veg with quinoa for lunch. Quinoa and lentils is a good combination, easy to digest and nourishing. A good alternative to rice and pasta. This Friday I have a funeral, so after lunch I drove out of town for a bereavement visit. The brother and sister I met were in shock at losing their septuagenarian mother unexpectedly, after she was admitted for minor surgery. She deteriorated and died in the intensive care unit a week later. Apart from stomach pain she'd been well and active until she went to hospital. No cause of death was established so the Coroner opened an inquest which could take eight months to conclude, they were told. When not even the doctors can understand what went wrong, it shows how much still has to be learned about the mysteries of the body, and life itself.

Clare and I want for an hour's walk around Pontcanna Fields when I got back. Then I prepared a hymn list for services during my stay in Costa del Sol West. I thought it would be good to make an early start as the services involve use of Powerpoint presentations which take time to create. As I'm arriving the night before my first service I thought it would be good to make an early start on this task. It only took me an hour and a half to complete. The hymnbook in use there is Mission Praise. I'm not sure I ever had a full copy of that one, but I found a database on-line with all the information needed on almost a thousand hymns. All I needed was twenty eight. Spoiled for choice!

In the evening, another visually wonderful exploration of the planet's surface by high powered satellite cameras in 'Earth from Space' on BBC Four, followed by another episode of Blacklist on 5 USA, with another unbelievable espionage plot, sort of.

Codfather on fire

As was driving down Romilly Road on my way to celebrate Mass at St German's this morning the wind blew a huge plume of smoke across the junction with Canton High Street. One of the shops nearby was on fire. As I was queuing couple of minutes later beyond St David's hospital junction, the first fire engine came full pelt towards us, blue lights flashing and siren blaring, followed by the command centre truck, and then a minute later the turntable ladder truck and a couple of police cars. The traffic hold-up was very brief, and I got to church just after half past ten. 

There were twenty six of us, including Fr Roy, who has now been discharged from hospital and is back at home with his two dogs. Given the seriousness of his condition after being hit by a car four months ago which included a month in an induced coma, he's made a remarkable recovery, although he is still somewhat frail. Caleb the St German's altar boy is eleven today, so we sang him an enthusiastic Happy Birthday at the end of the service.

After lunch I finished work on my video for Ascension Day Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube, and then went down to the High Street to find out which shop had gone up in smoke. It turned out to be a fish 'n chip and kebab takeaway joint called 'The Codfather'. According to a news report I read later the fire was in a flat above the shop from which two people had to be rescued. A domestic kitchen fire rather than a commercial one, I wonder?

I got back home after walking in the park and listened to Evensong on my phone, as it had started fifteen minutes earlier. Then I had some emails to deal with, including an exchange with a Costa chaplaincy member who provides support for Sunday worship. Services make use of Powerpoint presentations for the liturgy and hymns. That'll be a new experience for me. I can't say I'm keen. Projectors and screens can ruin the aesthetics of the worship environment. But, if it works for people that's fine by me.

After supper, I watched an episode of an English crimmie series on ITV called 'Grace', all about illegal immigrants becoming murdered for organ harvesting by an organise crime gang. I think I recall watching an episode of an earlier series, but it's some time ago. It was quite good, with a predictable happy end. Just.

Cricket lovely cricket

As Clare's back pain is happily diminishing at last, I proposed a trip to Dyffryn Gardens at breakfast this morning. By eleven we were on our way there, and the weather was just right. All the trees are now in full leaf and the arboretum with all its colourful diversity looks magnificent. Since our last visit in January this year, more work has been done on sections of the garden, and they too are full of colour. I took over sixty photos. You can see them here.

There are some sections that are closed off and left fallow with plants that will fix nitrogen in the soil and help to loosen it after years of compaction. The healthier the soil becomes, the less prone it will be to harbouring pests and colonising weeds that spread in poor exhausted ground. This way, soil can be regenerated without using fertiliser and readied for re-planting with flowers and bushes after two years of rest. It's much more wholesome process than using manufacture fertiliser and weed killer. We stayed until lunchtime, had a drink and a snack and then came home so that Clare could rest.

Then I went for a walk around Llandaff Fields. Three cricket matches were going on at the same time, and yesterday evening when I was out, the practice nets were occupied, and there was a large group of children on the adjacent pitch being taught how to play cricket by several adults. It's wonderful to see such enthusiasm for the amateur game.

In his gastro-tourist series of programme, Rick Stein was in Cadiz tonight, an amazing ancient city on the Atlantic facing section of coastal Spain, said to have been founded by the Phoenicians some three thousand years ago. It was all about the seafood dishes made possible by the diversity of fish caught and landed there. Some of the recipes he extolled I think I could make from memory. It's an hour and a half journey to get there from Estepona, so who knows, I may be able to visit there while I'm on locum duty. I told my friend Roy Thomas who now lives in Madrid about my forthcoming sojourn in Spain and he's promising to come and visit me, We were nearer to each other when I was in Ibiza and he in Alicante, but lock-down prevented us from getting together.

After this, another episode of Swedish crimmie 'Beck' about a hostage situation in a TV studio involving Alex, Beck's deputy chief. Although his murder squad team was ordered not get involved in the situation their behind-the-scenes swift researching of facts about people involved prevented a massacre even through it still ended tragically. A successful resolution marred by a failure, and as Alex says at the very end, it's the failures that haunt you. That makes sense to me.

Travel all sorted

I spent a long time in bed but didn't sleep well, fretting about the incomplete flight bookings. It took me a while after breakfast to summon the courage to look at my bank account on-line, and find both payments had gone through, completing the process, even if we were still owed the proper email. We have enough to get our boarding passes now, and that's all that matters.

The chaplaincy treasurer has already ordered the re-imbursement of my flight and is insisting on paying for Clare's return flight, despite me insisting it should be at my expense, since she's only coming for two weeks. How very generous!

After breakfast I recorded and edited the rest of next week's Morning Prayer audio, then got to work on a Sunday sermon. Clare cooked a chickpea curry for lunch, while I went out an did some grocery shopping for our foodbank offering, and dropped the bag off at St John's.

Because my back was grumbling (in sympathy with Clare's?), I lay down on the bed after lunch and fell asleep unintentionally. Another trip to the shops was needed before finally going for a walk in the park.

This evening I watched another excellent episode of the Usedom Murders as the German's call it, rather than the 'Nordic Murders' Channel 4 mistakenly calls the series - mistakenly because the German-Polish border is not exactly Scandinavian in geography or culture. It's low key, rural domestic, usually not at all violent. The German equivalent of Midsomer Murders, you might say, but richer in character portrayals.

Flight purchase hassles

Warm and sunny again today. I woke up in good time to post the Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp before Thought for the Day. After breakfast I went to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist with eight others. After cooking lunch, I went for a walk in the park. When I  returned, more emails from Costa del Sol prompted me to book my homebound flight, and a return flight for Clare. 

It's not as easy to book a flight nowadays as the pricing structure is more complex and granular, laced with options for other travel requirements pushed into the course of the booking process. I came unstuck on booking Clare's outbound flight making a series of errors with the payment verification process before getting it right, I think, but am not sure as the confirmation email is still awaited, instead of arriving within minutes. Our on-line bank account is not yet up to date, so we don't know if the flight booked has been confirmed. 

The problem for me is the secure transaction confirmation applet window, in which a texted one time passcode must be posted. Its size is too small for easy reading and it's possible to make a mistake by pressing the wrong button to send the passcode, as the correct one is on the same line as the request for a re-send is right next to it. My eyesight is not as sharp as it needs to be for such difficult interactions. If the payment issue isn't resolved in the morning, I'll have to go in to the main Santander branch in town to check, and tell them what I think about this readability issue.

I edited my biblical reflection for next Thursday's Morning Prayer, then recorded the Office and edited  it, but didn't get around to recording the reflection. That can wait until tomorrow. This evening's episode of 'The Art that Made us' was the only programme worth watching on telly tonight, dealing with the art of the twentieth century, how literature and visual art responded to the violence of the age, calling into question its meaning and purpose. Interesting.

The UN World Food Programme is voicing concern about the world wide grain shortage resulting from the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The whole of the 2021 wheat harvest is still in storage there, shipping it out from Odessa has been made impossible by the war, and this year's grain harvest is due to take its place within the month and there is nowhere to keep it. Not only is the huge increase in the market price of grain boosting inflation globally, but it's hitting poorer nations hardest of all, and limiting the amount available to aid famine stricken countries. An appeal is being made to Russia to un-blockade Odessa, but this is likely to be used as something to bargain with for concessions Russia needs. With climate change leading to extreme weather events resulting in more places being afflicted by famine, this is troubling news indeed.

Prince of Muck

Another warm and sunny Spring day with occasional showers. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning with eight of us present. During the day I exchanged emails with chaplaincy representatives in the Costa del Sol, sorting out flight reimbursements and briefing me about Sunday services. There was the veggie bag to collect before making lunch and the Beanfreaks grocery order to collect afterwards with only a short walk around the park late afternoon.

In the evening I watched this weeks edition of 'The Repair Shop' containing a significant item for the team to restore - an ornate Jewish prayer book which had survived. along with its owner, the horrors of the nazi concentration camp at Treblinka. The flyleaf contained the signatures of all who came out alive when it was liberated, such a powerful and cherished family heirloom. The moments of handover of cherished family mementos are often moving occasions, but this one, exceptionally so. Members of the team were equally moved at the response of its owner and the privilege they'd shared in helping conserve a historical document of such significance.

Then a documentary film called 'Prince of Muck' about the Laird of the Hebridean island of Muck, a man in his mid-seventies called Lawrence McEwan, whose great grandfather bought the island which Lawrence inherited over fifty years ago. His life's work has been dedicated to continuing the island's traditional way of life, while accepting technical innovations that improve life for everyone and encourage inhabitants to stay, or if they do go away, to return. 

His son now runs the family farm, but he still has his own small herd of free ranging cattle and looks after them himself. Being a life-long diarist, he read to camera from his journals over the years, and reflected on the changes he's seen in his life while he went on his daily round of chores. He took us to the graveyard where he wishes to be buried alongside other islanders, not in the Laird's exclusive islet Viking burial ground. "There are no walls or fences here." he explained. "My cattle will be able to visit me and walk on my grave."

It was a beautifully made film about a beautiful place and an old man at the end of his days, bearded, bent over, using walking sticks, remembering with love all that mattered most to him. If found that as a contemporary of his, it was easy to identify with him. When the credits ran at the end, it announced that he'd died just before it was shown on BBC Four. I wonder if he saw the finished product and approved of it? 

Spain in view again

A warm sunny start to the day after bouts of rain this past few days, perfect for every growing thing. On Thought for the Day' this morning, Sam Wells, Vicar of St Martin in the Fields gave a superb concise and clear discourse on the distinction between sin and evil. I was so impressed, I'll try and find the text of it on line to quote in a sermon, not something I often do. Here's the audio link.

As I was getting ready to do the week's grocery shopping at the Co-op, I had an email from Andrea of the Costa del Sol West Chaplaincy confirming initial arrangements for my seven week stay. After shopping and cooking lunch, I booked a flight from Cardiff to Malaga. I was looking for 12th July but the earliest flight available is on Saturday 16th July at a convenient time arriving early afternoon. It's a coach journey  of just over an hour to Estepona, where the Chaplaincy house is located. Fortunately there's only one service to take the following day, then a wedding blessing the following Saturday.

It was threatening to rain when I went out for a walk at a quarter to four. My AccuWeather phone app said it was imminent so I wore a mac. I was out an hour and a quarter and it didn't rain. Clare went out to walk just as I was getting back and got soaked in a downpour. Unusual for the forecast to be that unpredictable.

I had a message from Rachel asking me if I could tweak the video I made for her. It hard to do exactly what she wanted, but I gave it my best effort. Let's see what she thinks of it now, as I've spent half the evening working on it again. There was nothing on telly interesting enough to watch, fortunately.

The siege of the Azovstahl industrial complex on the edge of Mariupol is finally ending with Ukrainian defenders withdrawing. Western defence analysts are saying this agonisingly long battle has frustrated Russian war aims, by demanding so much of their military resources, denying them a quick takeover. The port city is in ruins and thousands have been killed there. It's helped change the course of the conflict from an overwhelming sudden Russian victory into a situation in which they cannot win outright,

A prominent Russian defence analyst went public on state TV tonight repeating what he said before the conflict started, that it's not in Russia's best interests to invade Ukraine, as its citizens will fight fiercely to defend their motherland. Now there are 42 nations backing Ukraine, Russia is isolated and being hit by economic sanctions. In effect he's now saying "I told you so." It's doubtful this appearance would happen without Putin and his henchmen knowing. Perhaps it's the first step in preparing the country for bad news about the cost in lives and equipment, which in the end cannot be hidden.

The Speaker of the Russian Douma - the parliament - has declared that the Ukrainian soldiers captured should be shot as nazi war criminals, perpetuating the slander against Ukrainian people and government, while forgetting that war has not been declared, and disregarding the need for due judicial process. It's not the kind of thing you expect from someone in the role of steering democratic debate, but this is Putin's parliament, after all.

An offer not to refuse

A warm but cloudy day with several cloudbursts. I did some house cleaning this morning, and cooked my recently invented pasta recipe with butterbeans, mushrooms and onions plus butternut squash, as the guest vegetable. Clare got wet going out in the morning and me likewise after lunch, when I left the house to walk to town to bank a cheque and meet with Rufus for a chat. 

I ended up waiting twenty minutes for a bus which left me twenty minutes to go to the bank and back to 'Coffee Barker' in Castle Arcade, a place with lots of comfy arm chairs low light and candles, a Central European ambience. Then I bumped into Rufus with his wife Daria outside St John's, so we went straight to Barker's. Daria left us for an errand of her own, and we chatted for a couple of hours.

While we were together, I received an email from Emma at Euro-diocesan HQ confirming that the locum duty offer I made was acceptable and to expect a call from the Costa del Sol West locum organiser to sort out details. I'm delighted to have the prospect of another spell doing pastoral work in Spain. A new environment and communities to discover, old Costa friends to pick up with on days off. 

It's been two years since my last Euro-locum in Ibiza, and in that time a great deal has changed in UK and Europe. This will be my first chance to learn first hand about the ramifications of brexit for British ex-pats, and its impact on church life. I am just a bit nervous about this. It'll be a test of my resilience, and whether I can pick up where I left off in terms of living and working in Spain after spending so long in the confines of Cardiff and environs, walking around Canton or Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields day after day. I'm glad that I haven't let my Spanish go, but continued to practice obsessively every day.

After parting company with Rufus and Daria, I visited the bank, just as the paying in machines were being emptied. Fortunately the  clerk doing the job paused her errand to let me to make the deposit. We chatted about holidays. She's off to Seville next week and thinking of an outing to Granada. I persuaded her to consider a 45 minute trip to Cordoba on the AVE while she was there. Granada takes two and a half hours, and needs much more than a half day to savour.

On the walk back from town, I saw Mallard ducklings swimming in the Taff for the first time this year. I also caught sight of a heron, and hung around long enough to take a photo just after it had taken flight, a first for me to get one that's not badly blurred.

I pottered about until supper time sending a few files direct to Rachel. The MP4 of a LlanfairPG sign above a souvenir shop proved more fiddly to send by WhatsApp than anticipated, so I had to figure out a workaround to succeed. Trivial things don's always work out the way you expect them to.

I watched a episode of a beautiful environmental documentary called 'Earth from Space' on BBC Fourshowing how global photographic mapping reveals fascinating things about Mother Earth, and the patterns etched into the landscape by the effect of seas, rivers and weather over centuries. There was a wonderful sequence in which fishermen in the Bay of Bengal netted fish from ponds in the delta at low tide with the help of domesticated otters, and another in which an Amazonian ox-bow lake was being used as a conservation resource to house manatees, an indigenous endangered aquatic mammal.

Then another episode of 'Blacklist' on 5USA. Not only an implausible storyline, but dialogue taken too fast or two quietly. I don't think my hearing is the problem. Even with the sound turned up I find it hard to catch whole sentences thrown away by the actors. How do they get away with it?

Eurovision victory for Ukraine

A warm, if slightly damp start to the day, great for the garden. Kath sent a message to say that Rachel had been delivered to Heathrow in good time for her early flight. Security clearance relieved her of a sealed jar of expensive Sicilian almond butter she was carrying, bought for Jasmine. It could have gone in the hold if she'd brought luggage with her, but she didn't. It seems that the sealed jar exceeded the 'no liquids more than 100ml in volume' rule and was detected by the  baggage scanner. What a damned waste.

We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were twenty five adults and ten children present. For the first time for both of us Communion was offered in both kinds. It took us both by surprise. St German's has yet to decide to revert to normal. I admit I wasn't sure about this, wondering if this has been thought through sufficiently, and maybe reflecting the concern of clergy who think they caught covid since the common Cup was restored to the faithful. Is it too soon? Do we need a time distance to overcome apprehension as well as the exponentially diminishing risk of contagion from the chalice? Fear from realising one's own unworthiness to receive Communion is enough to cope with, let alone those lingering epidemiological doubts. But, I did have a second booster jab nine days ago. That should minimise the risk, even if it doesn't eliminate the shadow of doubt.

As predicted, Ukraine won the Eurovision song contest on the populat vote, and the UK came second for the first time in two decades, having hovered around the null point zone during that period. There a lot more politics attached to voting behind the scenes. The expulsion from the contest of Russia and its influencers will no doubt have freed some Eastern European nations to vote differently this time.

Russia's body count in Ukraine is claimed to be fifteen thousand, with many more combatants injured and a huge loss of military hardware. Russian troops have given up trying to take Kharkiv, the second city of Ukraine, nearer the border, a key target for the past three months. Russian efforts are all being diverted to taking the Donbass region, forcing a strategic corridor between Donetsk and the Black Sea. Will they succeed? given that they underestimated resources needed from the outset, on top of rallying support for Ukraine from Europe and North America contributing to successful defence so far. 

As the cost is counted, will it lead to regime change in the Kremlin? That's what I hope and pray for. Such a waste of life due to Putin's evil vanity project. The damage done to both Ukraine and Russia will take years to remedy once the Kremlin is occupied by leaders not stuck in the country's past.

We went for a walk in the park after lunch. It's good to see Clare's back condition improving enough to let her walk without needing the back support belt she's worn for the past month, even if she still needs a pain killer occasionally. Then, I worked on the longer version of Rachel's 'Chocolate' video, adding a few more photos and adjusting the timings. I've uploaded this and the shorter one to Google Drive and sent her a link to both for evaluation. It'll be a few days before I get a response as she'll need to recover from jet-lag first.

I then worked on next Thursday's Morning Prayer upload, recording, editing, making the video slide show. The hardest part was finding a place in the house that was quiet enough to avoid background noise distractions, as Clare was on the phone upstairs, the fan over was whirring in the kitchen, and up in my back room study, when the gas boiler fell quiet, it was the sound of next door's dog barking. When at last it was quiet enough in the middle room downstairs, the distant sound of gulls in the garden registered on my recording device while I was speaking. A test of patience and persistence to get the job done. I continued after supper and completed and uploaded it by nine. 

A welcome message came in from Rachel at half past eight to say she'd arrived safely at PHX. We all miss her terribly. With nothing much else of interest on telly when I stopped work at nine, I watched the second episode of 'Blacklist' on 5USA. Another complex chess game of a spy mystery drama, with the occasional burst of hyper violence thrown in for those unable to follow convoluted plots, and actors with wooden expressions to complete the picture of glitzy dullness. I went to bed straight after the news. 

Sweden has now offically announced its request to join NATO in addition to Finland. Putin says there will be 'consequences', but what that actually means, nobody knows.  

Scandi night in

A cold but sunny start to the day. Clare was up early, and had cooked pancakes for breakfast by the time I  got up. It's a sign that her gradual improvement continues. She's able to manage without pain-killers now, but still uses ointments and heat treatment, as she's not pain free yet. Standing for any length of time is still painful and tiring.

I did some more work on Rachel's Chocolate video before going out for a walk before lunch. Clare had started cooking by the time I got back, so I took over and finished while she had a rest. Mussels with rice and an untired selection of vegetables - squash, radish, onions and sweetcorn, stewed with a little miso. It seemed to work surprisingly.

Rachel sent me some more photos to include in her video, so I added them to the project file and edited all the timings for the third time. The video for looping on her Chocologie website is ready for approval. The slightly longer version for YouTube remains to be done.

After tea, I went for a walk through the woods on the west bank of the Taff. I made several birdsong recordings to edit into a single five minute MP3 file for Rachel as a souvenir of home. Perhaps she'll play it on her return flight to help her to sleep.

When I went to prepare a sermon for tomorrow I found the Sunday page in my diary was empty. I had forgotten I have no duties tomorrow. It's the Eurovision Song Contest tonight. There's even a social event at St John's to watch it this evening with large screen viewing promised, but the music and performances hold no interest for me whatsoever. 

When I was grounded in Ibiza two years ago, Kath set up a special WhatsApp group for family and friends to make a lockdown virtual Eurovision party. A great morale booster at the time, just to see that so many people were having fun and communicating despite the dire isolation. But that did nothing to enhance the quality of the music. The occasion I recall vividly, the music was all forgettable.

Instead, I had a Scandinavian evening's viewing, first watching a Rick Stein programme about Nordic cuisine, set in Copenhagen, then another episode of Swedish crimmie 'Beck', always well crafted and plausible, even if sometimes the story lines are complex. Sara's husband Gunnar came from Gothenburg to watch the Cup Final. I wonder what he felt about a drawn match decided on a penalty shoot-out, with Liverpool as the winner, just?

Farewell to Rachel

After breakfast this morning, Clare said goodbye to Rachel and then went off for a reflexolgy treatment. Then I drove Rachel down to the bridge at Cowbridge Road East, through the Sophia Gardens car park, so she could visit the souvenir shops again before boarding her coach for Birmingham at eleven twenty. She's staying with Kath, who will take her to Heathrow for the flight home on Sunday. It was so sad for Clare and I to see her go again. She's such a bright fun-loving spark when she's with us, it's possible to forget how old we are for a while, and that it's possible we may not see her again in this world. 

It was then time to finish preparing for this afternoon's funeral and cook lunch. I drove to Thornhill for the service. The roads were busy, but I'd given myself plenty of time, unlike the funeral cortege which arrived ten minutes late. It was a big funeral, with about a hundred and twenty people present to say farewell to the head of a large extended family, as I learned from the eulogy, given by a grandson. Unusually, this had nothing to say about what the man had done during his life apart from being a loving family man. It seems that was enough to talk about. One of the family team of bearers could barely contain himself during the procession. He broke down in tears and wept loudly inconsolably during the first half of the service. On the way out at the end, Bill Hailey's 'Rock around the Clock' was played, the mood was too sombre.

On return I went for a walk in the park, then had another go at Rachel's 'Chocolate' video before supper, improving it with an additional batch of photos, and uploading it to Google Drive for her to look at. Clare thinks it needs even more. If Rachel agrees, I'll have to wait for her to send me more. On the More Four channel this evening, the return of the excellent German crimmie series called 'Nordic Murders' when it should really be North Sea Murders because of its location on the north German coast near the border with Poland at Usedom. This week's episode was about a death and a rape during a weekend long drink and drug fuelled end of year school party among a group of sixteen year olds. It was, I felt a sober and unsensational portrayal of what can arise when young people are left to their own devices, and then try to deal with the mess they make of their lives in their own way, only making things far worse.

Time with Rachel

I posted to WhatsApp the link to today's Morning Prayer video as soon as I woke up, then after breakfast worked on next week's reflection, before walking into town with Clare and Rachel, so that she could buy a Welsh souvenir for Jasmine from one of the tourist shops. Having seen what was on offer in the shops, she had to wait for Jasmine to wake up in Arizona to consult her about the suitability of what was on offer. She settled on some Wales branded socks in the end, as she already has a Wales branded tee shirt. Then we had lunch in a Portuguese pasteleria opposite the Castle before walking home again.

An email from Emma at Euro-diocese HQ awaited me on return, asking if I'd be available for locum duty in July and August. Two month cover is becoming the norm now as chaplaincies can't afford to cover the cost of flights more frequently now. With Jasmine coming to visit us in the second week of July all I can offer is a seven Sunday stint instead of the nine needed, so it's unlikely to happen unless they're desperate. It does mean, however, that I'll be in line to get Euro-diocese Safeguarding training done this year, before I go anywhere, and that is good news.

Having had a discussion with Rachel about making an audio vision stream to boost the branding of her Chocologie-love website, she sent me fifty odd promotional photos of chocolates she's made, which I was then able to combine with the three minute fiftyfive second MP3 of the song called 'Chocolate' which she wrote and recorded over twenty years ago but never promoted, much to my disappointment as I thought it was good, but she thought it might stereotype her as a pop artist rather than a serious singer-songwriter. Now she has her own veegan organic chocolate making business, it seemed to me worth revisiting.

Before receiving all her photos, I first a made a proof of concept video, then a visually richer video with about twenty different photos. She was pleased with this and proposed adding even more photos, which I will do after she's gone, as we have now established a simple file exchanging routine using Google Drive. It was fun to do, and a hope it draws attention to the song, and to her excellent chocolates. Last night she found the remnants of a packet of cacao powder in the cupboard, plus the remnants of a jar of coconut oil, flavoured with orange blossom honey, and made a small batch of truffles, which we enjoyed with tea and strawberries today.

In the evening, she gave Clare some Reiki and while I was watching 'The Girl in the Spider's Web' on Film Four, she gave my wonky foot a therapeutic massage. I didn't like the film. As a sequel, I didn't think the story-line was worthy of Steig Larsson's original narrative in the Millennium Trilogy. The film was too unreal in its hyper-violence.and using CGI for incredible stunts, making them frankly, incredible to watch. Not even worth suspending disbelief to watch..

Another day with the children

Mother Frances phoned at nine to ask me to cover the Eucharist at Saint Catherine's as she'd been called upon to do some urgent trouble shooting. 

An email from Ruth arrived containing next week's texts for Morning Prayer. I was relieved to learn that after ten weeks of slogging our way through readings from the Old Testament, we're changing back to the New Testament reading of the day, currently from Luke's Gospel. It's been hard work preparing a weekly reflection on difficult to understand and sometimes complex un-redacted narrative passages, a satisfying challenge, but every time posing the question of why we're reading them now, and what relevance are they in our contemporary situation. Some of the lessons have been so long that the average time for reciting the simplified version of the Office and a 4-5 minute interpretation has crept up from ten to fourteen minutes. A challenge to the audience's attention span.

Then I had a panic email from my sister as neither her landline nor her mobile phone were working. I tried both devices and got a line engaged message on each. It suggested that there was an area wide network outage in her part of London. I explained in reply what I thought had happened and hoped that she would understand. Nothing to be done but wait until things rectified themselves in these circumstances, I said.

When I got back from church I found a text message and two emails from Google giving different codes to verifiy June's Gmail account, for which mine is the back-up address. I tried ringing her and got through straight away this time. I seems she'd started emailing Age Concern Wandsworth to find out if others were experiencing the network outage, and then had Google's two step verification login process sprung on her, and didn't know how to handle it. I was able to sort this out by logging into her account thereby avoiding further digital chaos. All in a morning's work. I wish Google's security preoccupation could be exercised without its protocols being so disruptive and annoying, if not confusing to the end user.

The four of us went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields before lunch, then afterwards while Clare was resting, Owain Rachel and I went to collect the Beanfreaks grocery order. Owain had to return to Bristol, as he must work tomorrow, so after tea, we had a photo session in the garden before driving him to the station.

It's sad that he and Rachel have only had this morning and afternoon together, and won't be able to meet again before she returns to Arizona next weekend. It's painful that Kath Rachel and Owain haven't been able to meet together on their own or with us to be fully re-united as a family, but it's what the demands of work do and have done throughout history.

Rachel cooked us a lovely lentil and veg dish for supper. Then I watched 'The Repair Shop' and the last episode of 'Life after Life'. Such a beautifully crafted period piece movie serial, but with a story line in so many fragments of alternatively imagined realities that it was hard to make sense of, or know how it really ended. Disappointing.

Today Boris Johnson has signed a mutual defence aid pact with Sweden and Finland. It's an agreement ahead of applications by both nations to join NATO, a process which could take half a year. The war in Ukraine is continues, causing so much grief and suffering to millions with little progress towards end being made by either side at the moment. Armies of the three nations already co-operate and on times train together, but this pact is a way of discouraging Putin from springing any nasty surprises upon these Baltic nations to distract attention from the Ukrainian conflict and gain an advantage. Hopefully it won't mean much in practice, though it is a publicity coup for Boris to be seen to be doing something while the political ground at home is so rocky for him. 

A day with the children

After good night's sleep all round and a late breakfast we walked over to Bute Park to the Summer House for a cup of coffee and a few photos, including this one from Kath's iPhone. It's a pity that Owain has work meetings today and can't come over until the evening. It would be nice to have a picture of all five of us in the park, but it wasn't to be.

As it was a mild and sunny day, we spent time in the garden after lunch, with Rachel playing the guitar she keeps here with us, and later her Grandpa's 'cello. With Rachel's help I cooked supper, so Kath could eat before driving back to Kenilworth. 

Owain arrived from work an hour after she left, to eat his share of supper, then Rachel Owain and I sat and talked until bed time. Reminiscing about the past, prompted me to look up stories I wrote about people at the time of the St Paul's riots in 1980, and read one of them to Owain. It took me a while to track down four pieces of writing I'd done from that period, and file them in one place. About time too really. Owain seems to think a local history group might be interested in them. I'd like to publish them as a collection of short stories, but whether I'll ever get around to  doing this is anybody's guess. 

Family reunion begins

House cleaning after breakfast to prepare for the arrival of Rachel and Kath. Rachel's flight arrived half an hour ahead of time at Heathrow, and she was able to take a coach earlier than the one she booked, arrived a couple of hours earlier than planned, which is great.

My sister June called about a minor annoying problem on her computer, which I could fix in seconds hands on, but would find impossible to explain to her on the phone. It'll have to wait until my next visit. Maybe next week? Google photos has been giving her grief as well. Her account display was congested with shared albums so she couldn't find her own pictures. Fortunately this was something I could fix, as I'm able to log into her account for trouble shooting purposes. It took me an hour to remove dozens of shared album links, plus even more blank shared albums, a product of accidentally pressing on the wrong button, over the last decade. It'll be a lot easier to find her own photos now, though these too need pruning as there are lots of accidental duplicates. 

A walk around the park for both of us separately before lunch. We almost missed the grocery delivery as it turned up ahead of the scheduled time. The deliveryman spoke poor English and didn't seem to understand that the scheduled time frame written on the bag needed to be adhered to. He rang to ask where we were, as Clare was still outdoors. She was able to redirect him to Mary across the street, but arrived before he'd left, and  made him carry the bags back across the street to our house. She the rang the Coop to complain and train their deliverers to read the label on the bag. Fat chance of anyone doing that nowadays as people are so focussed on their phones.

I took Clare to the hospital for a back injury x-ray before meeting Rachel's coach. I walked to Sophia Gardens coach station to meet her and walk back home with her. Clare's appointment didn't take long so she walked to meet us in Pontcanna Fields. 

Kath drove down from Kenilworth, arriving an hour and a half later. Supper, cooked by Clare feeling better today, was on the table as she came through the door. Afterwards Clare went to bed early, needing to recover from her day's exertions, and I sat at the kitchen table, chatting with my lovely grown up daughters and listening to Latin Jazz they found and wanted to share until it was time for bed. My girls are amazing gifted women, doing marvellous things with their lives, and happy about their lot. I'm so proud of them, as I am of Owain.

Meanwhile, Putin reviews the troops on Red Square on the anniversary of the Russian victory over the Nazis in Germany, and speaks falsehoods about Ukraine being a breakaway derivative of Russia  denying the historical fact that Kyiv was founded before Moscow as the centre of mission to the Rus tribes, and has had its own life and culture for centuries before Russian empire building ambitions evolved. His aim, to judge from the way his army has acted in the weeks since its botched invasion of Ukraine, is to subjugate the country forcibly, as it did before, ninety years ago, after the revolution. It's no wonder that Ukrainians are fighting so hard against neighbours with whom they have so much in common.

Resilient Roy

Another beautiful sunny Sunday morning on which to celebrate Mass at St German's. Just after I arrived Father Roy Doxsey arrived. It was his first outing from UHW's trauma unit since he was admitted to the hospital after being hit by a car. His injuries were serious and life threatening, including head injury. He spent his 80th birthday in hospital, but thanks to superb medical care he making a good recovery, though still with a few gaps n his memory. He's determined not to go into a home for retired clergy, or sheltered accommodation. The adaptation of his flat in the former St Ann's Clergy House to enable supported living where he's lived for the past ten years is under way. He's already planning to throw a party, he says.

By the time I returned from church Clare had lunch on the table, an indication her being able to cope with the back pain, diminished but by no means gone away yet. Afterwards, I sat down to do my daily Due Lingo drill, and no sooner had I finished than I fell asleep for a hour and a half in the chair, sabotaging my effort to do without an afternoon siesta. Then I went out for a walk in the park. There were scores of small groups sitting out on the grass, and down by Blackweir Bridge three pony and trap ensembles belonging to the local Traveller community were parked on the grass and the horses being led to water after their trip across town. I think that's the first visit they've made so far this year. They appear about once a month, a lovely reminder of summers past in another era.

There wasn't much of interest on telly tonight, apart from 'The Antiques Roadshow' so I spent an hour or so reading and revising my novel, and then went to bed early.

Inspirational Dancers

A lovely sunny start to the day, and as Clare was feeling able to cope with a short car journey, we went to Penarth mid-morning and walked on the coast path for an hour. We walked for a while, seeing and hearing bees and flies but no butterflies. I began to wonder to what extent the population along the coast path was diminishing as widely reported these days, then I spotted a small brown one, then another two. Each posed on a leaf for long enough to let me to take photos. Here's one of them:

We got back for lunch a bit later than usual,  as I made a chicken dish yesterday with enough to last two days. Cooking rice and Swiss chard with a piece of fish for Clare didn't take too long. A trip to Tesco's afterwards to get some extra veggies, as we have all three children coming to stay at different times in the coming week, with Rachel arriving from Phoenix if all goes to plan. It's her first home visit in three years, due to the pandemic.

This evening I watched the BBC's 'Young Dancer of the Year' competition final, featuring ten dancers in training from four different disciplines, classical, contemporary, street dance and tap. A series of earlier programmes showed them learning to work together with choreographers on dance performances that showcase their particular art. I've seen parts of a couple of the episodes in previous weeks, but this was the climax of a development workshop programme that has been going on for a year. There were solo, small group performances and a finale with a special piece involving all ten participants. It was exciting, inspiring and so engaging that it was hard to look away from the screen. I can't imagine and team sports event being so compelling. Each of the dancers spoke with commitment, enthusiasm and humility about what they'd learned and what the experience meant to them. The future is safe in the hands of youngsters like these.

Then by way of contrast, the first in series eight of popular Swedish crimmie 'Beck' - forty six episodes so far. That's ten more than 'Inspector Montalbano' It's been running for 24 years. Beck has gone from being young middle aged to being on the verge of retirement, with many team changes over the years, but with Peter Haber still playing the same role. One of the better 'police procedurals', portraying great teamwork and wise laid back leadership.  Always worth watching.

The Tories have lost over five hundred seats in this week's local elections, and their last County Council in Wales - Monmouth. In Northern Ireland Assembly elections, Sinn Fein has won a majority of seats for the first time in history, taking over from the Democratic Unionists. The Unionist vote is divided between three parties, and as they are opposed to the brexit protocol agreement, they may refuse to enter into a power sharing agreement with Sinn Fein. This will perpetuate a stalemate which has obstructed progress in running the government in Ulster lately, so that critical issues such as the health service and inflation aren't being tackled. 

It's no wonder that the middle ground Alliance party doubled the number of seats it now has, people are looking for an alternative to the political power games of the past, based on sectarian interests and not on seeking the common good, no matter what the parties proclaim. Priorities have changed in Ulster, as they have done everywhere else but some established politicians are unable to adapt or compromise. 

Art that makes me proud to be Welsh

After breakfast this morning, I prepared my Sunday sermon, then cooked lunch, On impulse after lunch, I walked over to the National Museum of Wales and was delighted to discover that repair work on its dome is now complete, and several of the upstairs galleries renovated. The rotunda room is housing a display of Welsh landscape paintings at the moment. 

It's wonderful to walk through galleries, arranged in historical order from the Renaissance to this century. The Davies Sisters' collection of French Impressionists has a room of its own. Most of these works are familiar. I've seen them here over the past sixty years. Renoir's Lady in Blue moved me to tears. I must have been eight or nine when I was first brought to the Museum. In those days, the Lady in Blue reigned over the east end of the main hall, at the top of the first flight of stairs. Now you can stand in front of her at close quarters and gaze. 

Rodin's sculpture 'The Kiss' is on display in an adjacent room. It's amazingly powerful. It was the first piece of erotic art I recall seeing as an adolescent. L S Lowry's landscape painting of Abertillery in the age when coal was king caught my attention, also a huge vivid triptych by Stanley Spencer, depicting a village festival in Saas Fee.

There's an exhibition on currently called 'The Rules of Art', posing questions about the representation of people in different forms of visual art, and illustrating this with exhibits. Two video installations really caught my attention and made me think. One by Bedwyr Williams has a story-telling soundtrack about a dystopian future in which Mid-Wales has become completely urbanised. The video is an animated 24/7 portrait of Cader Idris and its surroundings covered with giant skyscrapers and floodlit sports pitches.  In a way it pokes fun at the fantasies of architects and developers who seem not to know where to stop in transforming our environment. It has a prophetic ring to it, in my opinion.

The other video work, 'Vertigo Sea' by John Akomfrah was displayed on three huge HD screens inside a darkened room, with ambient music and sound. It used footage of the natural beauties of the environment, juxtaposed against each other by colour form and movement as much as by theme. It was an absorbing, thought provoking, immersive experience, almost intoxicating. I watched only the last few minutes of the 48 minute work. I didn't have the energy to cope with the amount of sensory input, and watch it from the beginning.

When I left to walk home, I realised I was feeling a physical heaviness and my head ached slightly. I'd forgotten last night's vaccination altogether. The symptoms reflected those I had when fighting the battle with covid, but milder. I stopped and sat down on a park bench twice on the walk home. That is quite unusual for me. It'll pass eventually.

After supper, I watched Channel 4 news hour, then the final episode of the current series of French crimmie 'The Crimson Rivers'. Not impressed. Too implausible a storyline.

Late boost

I posted the YouTube link for today's Morning Prayer on What'sApp just before 'Thought for the Day' and then went down to breakfast, prepared by Clare, who was up before me and ever so slightly improved to be able to take on a normal routine activity again, but there's no escaping the back pain.

I went to St John's and joined six others for the Eucharist' We had the story of Phillip and the Ethiopian eunuch from Acts for the Epistle. Mother Frances pointed out that the Servant Song passage the man was reading aloud in his chariot from Isaiah 53.7-8, is a passage a passage about someone who is isolated and lonely, an experience with which the eunuch would most likely have been familiar, being in a position of  responsibility, but without family support. He would have identified himself with this, and be seeking its true meaning.  It's an angle of interpretation I'd never thought of before. 

Looking at the same passage, my curiosity is aroused by the question of which language he'd be reading in and they'd speak in. My guess is that they'd speak Greek so the Greek translation of Isaiah would be more accessible to him than the Hebrew or Aramaic, both of which he'd be less likely to know. Interesting to observe how the same text catches our attention in different ways. That's the wonder of the Word.

I took the trolley with me to carry the food bank donation to church, then used it on the home run to collect our weekly grocery order from Beanfreaks. Then I recorded and edited the audio for next week's Morning Prayer video, before sitting down to a curry lunch. Unfortunately while I was doing this I was separated from my phones, too absorbed to check them or hear notification sounds coming in, as they were both upstairs. As a result, I completely forgot my booster jab appointment at one forty. After eating I continued work on making the video and then went out for a walk, forgetting to take a phone with me.

It was only when Ashely called me at five that I realised my omission. I rang the vaccination admin line, and was lucky enough to rearrange the appointment for twenty to seven this evening. I had enough time to drive across to the Mass Vaccination Centre in Splott, and as it wasn't very busy I was jabbed by half past six with a dose of the Pfizer vaccine and on my way home in time for supper and The Archers on the radio. Just as well I decided last week to renew the car insurance and keep the Polo for another year!

I binge watched episodes of a new crime thriller currently on ITV called 'D I Ray'. It's about an Asian thirty something woman who is a police detective inspector on a murder squad, who uncovers a link to an organised crime gang trafficking drugs and people, going against her supervisors who are certain two of the deaths being investigated are a product of culturally related violence. D I Ray is subjected to quite a lot of casual racism, presumed to be of Indian origin, but actually born in Leicester into a middle class professional family which happens to come from the Punjab. 

The crime investigation using all mod cons available in modern policing was interesting enough, but the whole four part series is really an essay on institutional racism and cultural identity issues, plausible and relevant currently. I suspect there will be another series, probing further the weaknesses and failings of Her Majesty's Constabulary, and that there will be moans that it's unrepresentative of the force today. Trouble is the force has been playing catch-up on these issues for far too long.

Crime scene for real

We learned from the neighbourhood WhatsApp group this morning that the son of a Meadow Street resident was mugged in the lane at the end of the street last night. We've had burglaries before, but for a young man to be threatened by a knife wielding assailant is out of the ordinary for this quiet neighbourhood. The lane is poorly lit with a few places where someone could conceal themselves beforehand. 

It may be a one-off, someone using the lane as a short cut, desperate for money for a fix. Drug dealing does occur on the streets around here, I've glimpsed exchanges happening between young adults in hoodies occasionally. It remains to be seen now if there's a repeat performance, but after this exchange of messages, neighbours will be on the alert.

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's with six others this morning. Then I fetched this week's veggie bag, and cooked us lunch. After an afternoon walk in the park, I started work on Morning Prayer and next week's biblical reflection. I was interrupted by a Police constable making routine enquiries after the crime, She was clad in black, with long blond hair in a plait, reminding me of a character in a British telly crime drama.

For a change, I watched Channel 4's evening news this evening, featuring a reporter with Ukrainian troops in the region of Donetsk. It's the first time I've heard mention of military hardware in use donated by NATO countries. There have been more Russian missile strikes against the railway network, aiming to hinder deployment of imported weapons. A Ukrainian commander spoke of Russian soldiers making  repeated attacks without variation in tactics, men used unimaginatively as cannon fodder in the faint hope of overwhelming opponents who know their ground and what they are fighting for. 

One report I read today stated that Russia is losing 400 soldiers a day. The tabloid media alleges that the Russian campaign failure is causing concern among senior military figures. Russian social media is said to be rife with speculation about a military coup brewing against Putin's regime. But can tabloid media be trusted not to make up stories, even if they tout optimistic propaganda? No reports of this kind have been issued by radio or TV news broadcasts so far. We can but pray.

Art Justice done

I did the week's grocery shopping this morning after breakfast. When I returned home Clare was preparing to make lunch. It's the first time in weeks that she's been able to stand comfortably and cook. It's a positive sign that her back pain is getting easier to cope with. We completed making the meal together, one step at a time. Afterwards I put the bedding plant bought yesterday into the ground in the place Clare proposed. I have no idea what it is, but it's a pretty purplish colour.

I pleased not to have fallen asleep after lunch today. In fact, I had a chat on the phone with Chris, recently retired early from ministry in the Llynfi Valley, due to imposed Ministry Area changes, making him redundant. He's not yet used to being out of the role that has occupied him for the past thirty two years, a few years short of pension age.

When I went out for my walk in the park Clare went for another acupuncture treatment. It'll be a day or so before any improvement is noticeable but it does seem to make a difference over time. We met in the park when I was on my way home. At the time, I was sitting on a bench talking to Ashley on the Blackberry, whose SIM should have ceased operating on Saturday as advised, but didn't. Typical BT 'efficiency'.

This evening I watched another in a series about real Sicilian detectives tracking down treasures looted from ancient tombs. Tonight's episode concerned the Europa Calyx Krater, a decorated Greek vase for mixing wine water and spices, a real masterpiece, signed by its maker and its painter five hundred years before Christ. It was uncovered when a tomb was accidentally exposed during road works in Apulia. 

The finder didn't realise its value, and took it home with him. Rumour about the vase reached the ears of low level traffickers to whom he unwittingly sold it for a million lire (less than a thousand euros) and a suckling pig! It was trafficked to Basel, then sold to the Getty Museum. By a series of fortuitous accidents a full account of the theft was pieced together and it was return to a museum in the town near where it was discovered. Justice done!

Then the third episode of serialised novel drama 'Life after Life'. Although it's a bit confusing to follow, tracking back and forth in time, visiting alternative 'What if' scenarios of a woman's life, it's beautifully acted and full of perfect period piece interiors in which the drama is played out. It makes a change from my usual viewing, I must admit.

Eid in the park

Clare was up early before me this morning cooking pancakes for breakfast. A sign that her back pain is a bit easier to cope with. Naturally she's eager to resume normal activity, but what's possible is driven by the level of pain to be coped with. We went for a two hour walk along the Taff afterwards, enjoying the huge variety of birdsong that makes our urban woodland so special. 

A carpet of wild garlic flowers has spread extensively under the trees this past week or so, and the slightly pungent aroma hangs in the mild air. Perhaps because of the changes in season, garlic flowers have proliferated more than usual this year. Ramadan ends today. It was delightful to see a Muslim family at one of the bench tables in Bute Park, unpacking food dishes prepared for a picnic to celebrate Eid-ul-Fitr, their faces radiant with festive joy. 

I cooked lunch when we got back, then sat down to do my Duo Lingo exercises, only to wake up an hour and a half later. I hadn't intended this, and didn't feel tired, that's what's so strange. So much for my good intentions. We went out for another walk before tea, this time for couple of circuits of Thompson's Park. Car excursions are out of the question until Clare's back pain eases further. We're just fortunate to live in such a lovely green environment.

Another couple of hours wasted in front of the telly this evening, then an hour of reading and revising my novel. On checking files, I found that the first draft I'm now working on was completed in January last year. It was written during the period that four of my five rounds of surgery took place, when it was difficult to sit in front of a computer and write for any length of time. Somehow the challenge of life with wound discomfort stimulated me creatively, but once it got easier to live with, the impulse to edit what I'd written went away. Perhaps I needed time for the project to cool down, so to speak, so I could get a measure of perspective and sharp focus on it, to start revising. I'm a third of the way through in a short time, and enjoying the task.

Visiting Fairwater Church

Cloud and rain showers returned today after quite a long absence. I woke up at seven thirty, after a good eight hours sleep, listened to the radio and then got up at eight to make breakfast. That's a pattern I'd like to sustain with no afternoon siesta. After all, it's not hot enough to justify an lie-down here after lunch, even if I am often tempted just to nod off.

At nine thirty I drove to Fairwater to St Peter's church to celebrate their ten o'clock Parish Eucharist. It's one of the few churches in Cardiff I've never been to before. It wasn't the building I thought it was, so I had to check the location on my phone. The building dates back to the inter-war period, simple in style and well appointed. The congregation of thirty which swelled to forty-five when the Sunday School came in at Communion time. 

Their arrival was unexpected. Apparently they meet on Sundays fortnightly, then on a Saturday afternoon for an outdoor session in alternate weeks, but over Easter the sequence must have been disrupted. Never mind. I had fun. The entire Sunday School sat in the empty choir stalls, which was good for having a little chat with them about what they'd been learning. Then a box of percussion instruments appeared and they all took one they could bang or shake during the final hymn. Normally a suitable hymn would have been chosen, but today's last hymn was 'Guide me O though Great Redeemer'. A joyful noise unto the Lord, but quite unsynchronised. Everyone took it in good part.

There was coffee afterwards in the church hall next door. The hall looks newer than the church and may have been rebuilt in recent years. The buildings sit on a substantial piece of land, and in the past decade or so, it has been developed as a community garden run by volunteers from church and parish.  The hall windows look out on a beautifully kept green space with trees and bushes, plus there's a patio with chairs and tables for outdoor refreshments. I was surprised there were several people in the congregation that recognised me from former times when I worked in the diocese. That doesn't happen too often these days, given that only sixteen years of my ministry took place here and I've been retired for twelve years now, part of the distant past of diocesan life.

Clare ventured out to church this morning for the first time since she got covid. Her condition is slowly improving, though 'two steps forward one step backward' seems to be the rule of progress. I went down to St Catherine's to meet her as I got home early enough to do so, but she'd already left. We met at the junction on Llandaff Road. She'd just been for a turn in Thompson's Park after the service, reluctant to socialise with so many people interested in asking how she's getting on, and not knowing what to say when progress is so erratic. She'd prepared lunch as well before going out, so when we got back home, I took over the cooking while she had a rest. All in all, I think this is an improvement on previous weeks.

I went out for a walk in the park after lunch, rather quiet today with the grass still damp from the rain. I caught sight of a Song Thrush gathering a clump of grass mowings and flying with them up into a tree to use in building a nest. 

After a couple of hours watching telly, I spent another couple of hours reading and revising my novel before turning in for bed. There's so much I wrote back in the winter three years ago that I've forgotten, so it's quite a pleasant surprise to discover how much I packed in to a work that began as a short story and took on a life of its own. Now's the time to get it under control. So far so good.