I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning, celebrated again in the church hall. This time I was in the congregation of ten. After a chat over coffee, I returned home, worked on next week's reflection for Thursday Morning Prayer and cooked lunch. After lunch I took advantage of the quietness, which Clare was having a siesta to record the audio, as the written text preparation didn't take me long at all. That was pleasing. Then I went for a walk.
In the avenue of trees along the edge of Pontcanna Fields, I noticed that several large tree trunks, felled or fallen, cut into pieces and left in situ four years ago, have been removed, leaving only the imprint on the ground and shards of broken bark. I wonder why these select pieces for broken trees and not others. There's an abundance of them throughout our parkland.
After supper I watched the final episodes of 'Suspect' on catch-up, The ending was a disappointment, as was this week's catch-up episode of 'Blacklist, although it was only part one of two, it was hard to figure out who was doing what to whom and why. Finally, an hour of illumination with Lenny Henry fronting a short documentary series on the Caribbean contribution to the evolution of British culture despite decades of racism and xenophobia towards black people. Tonight he covered the period from the fifties to the seventies, when we were young. It was a real journey down memory lane. It was great to see interviews with so many prominent black Britons who have distinguished themselves in the creative arts. I loved it as it reminded me of how much I own to the years we spent raising our kids in Bristol's St Paul's Area, where the black community was in many ways so open and trusting to their white parish priest, when he was more of an embarrassment to indigenous Brits.
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