Bookings made

More rain, and a slow but busy start to the week. First household chores, then completing this week's Morning Prayer video and uploading it, booking an outbound flight from Cardiff for Clare to come and join me in Fuengirola, and then cooking a veggie pasta dish for lunch. 

Afterwards we walked over to Bute Park for a cup of tea, called into the bus station to check the bus timetable for a London trip next week to take my redundant mobile phone to my sister and show her how to use it. Clare then booked us a couple of night's stay at the Oxwich Bay Hotel as there was a special offer on a two night stay with breakfast included.

After supper, I watched several episodes of a new Finnish thriller called Arctic Circle, set in Lapland in the deep midwinter, near the border with Russia. It's more than a murder mystery police procedural as the story of cross border organised crime and averting the threat of a new sexually transmitted virus capable of triggering a pandemic, plus the usual domestic background stories. Much of the dialogue is in English as well Finnish, with occasional elements of Russian as well. Interesting to observe a Russian and a Finn use English as a common language. I wonder if this is true to life?

And now I see ...

A day of occasional cloudbursts rain and sunny spells. After breakfast I drove to St German's to celebrate the Eucharist with twenty five others for the first time in seven weeks and was warmly welcomed back. It was sunny when we started,  and the lights were not needed, then dark clouds rolled in as I prepared to read the Gospel, as it did one Sunday nine months ago. Then my cataracts made reading in low light very tricky which un-nerved me. That was the Sunday when eye surgeon Andrew and I first talked about my sight, and he proposed doing the cataract op. How wonderful it was to have my low light vision restored! 

I had to thank God for Andrew's wonderful ministry to me. This week he's off to Malawi for six months where he is setting up a new eye clinic. Then he'll return and work six months for the NHS to fund another spell of work in Malawi. Such amazing commitment, sharing his skills across continents like this. 

Home for lunch just after one, and after a brief snooze, a walk with Clare through Bute Park, with a take away coffee from the Tuk-Tuk mobile cafeteria at Blackweir Bridge. With more rain since yesterday the Taff water level isn't  dropping, though it's nowhere near as high as it was last February. We walked for nearly an hour and a half and the sun was set by the time we reached home.

After supper and the Archers, I watched the latest Countryfile edition on at my sisters recommendation on iPlayer. It was all about an artistic light-show involving thousands of hikers on the four tallest mountains in Great Britain, making moving patterns of light in darkness on the slopes displaying images best seen in video clips shot by drones, the idea being to showcase their natural beauty and encourage networking by hikers to help take care of the environment. 

Making this involved using some remarkable new technology involving GPS mapping and low intensity LED lights hand held by participants, as well as creative artists innovative use of these to conceive of this with computer aided design. A very interesting proposal, though I'm not sure the drone footage edited together from the four sites really did full justice to the spectacular effort involved in project delivery.

Then on BBC One, I watched the first episode in the story of the SAS and its contribution to breaking the deadlock between the Eighth Army and Rommel's Afrika Corps. Much was shot on location in Morocco in authentic looking locations, an alluring period piece, with a thumping good real life story behind it.

Now that the left I cataract has gone, it's gratifying to realise what a difference it makes, even though the eye has not yet settled down fully and I will need new specs, being able to see clearly has taken away the extra effort of caution required to avoid making mistakes. I feel just that bit more relaxed and at home in my own skin. It's wonderful!

Even longer nights from now

After a good long sleep, Clare cooked us waffles for breakfast. Then she and Owain loaded the stewed crab apples with added cloves and lemons into a straining bag and hung it up for the juice to drip through. This produced three pints of liquor during the day, with a little extra bag squeezing at the end. Boiled up with a couple of pounds of sugar this produced nine jars of crab apple jelly. While this was cooking  I sieved the remaining fruit to produce several pounds of spicy apple puree, which can be used to spread on toast for breakfast, and baked into a pie. A wonderful return for the effort of harvesting and cooking.

Cousin Godfrey's funeral was this morning, and I was sorry not to be able to attend, but included prayers for him in saying the daily office. That's three family funerals in a row I've missed, two because of covid and one now because of the distance and time available for travel 

I got started on a sermon for tomorrow before we went to The Conway for a pub lunch: chicken curry for me, fish and chips for Clare and Owain and beer all round. Then we went into town, as Owain wanted to shop for a jacket in John Lewis. We then parted company and he went off to meet a friend, before returning to Bristol, so we had a drink in the cafeteria and then took the bus home. 

As we walked past a small joke cum novelty costume shop opposite the Castle, it was impossible to ignore the thirty yard queue of young people of student age outside, waiting to get into the store and be served. All were looking for something bizarre to wear for this Hallowe'en weekend. Astonishing to think how an old children's folk custom has developed into yet another consumer-fest of negligible value or interest. On arriving home we heard the news of a hundred and fifty four  young people dying in Seoul Korea, crushed in an excited crowd pressing through an alleyway in a night club district while out Halloween partying. It's a terrible tragedy, arising from the hype of consumerism - a new idolatry that consumes its worshippers by inflaming passions. A sad symptom of this passing age.

As the sun was setting I walked in the park for an hour and took some nice photos of a red and grey evening sky. After supper, I watched another double episode of Norwegian crimmie 'Wisting', then completed a sermon for tomorrow before turning the clocks back, and turning in too late to benefit from an extra hour in bed. At least I have a later start tomorrow morning, in any case.

Crab apple harvesting again.

After breakfast this morning, we visited the crab apple trees in Llandaff Fields and harvested another seven pounds of fruit, our efforts punctuated by passers by asking us what kind of fruit they are, thinking the might be cherries because of their colour and the smallness of the fruit. When we returned I cooked lunch. Clare washed the fruit and after eating I cut them up and de-stalked them, thousands of them, a task which took three hours. Then I went for a walk before the sun set and Clare went to her Pilates class.

Owain arrived for supper and we spent an enjoyable evening drinking a  bottle of special Swiss Gamaret red wine from Geneva producteurs, which he bought at the airport on his way home from visiting friends a few months ago. It's an interesting brew made from a hybrid grape, a cross between a Gamay and a Cabernet Sauvignon with a rich dark colour and dry savour of red berry fruit. 

It's good to know that he's settling into his new role writing for the web pages of the government's Insolvency Service. He's waiting to be given notice to quit his flat as the house has been put up for re-sale having only recently been auctioned after his landlord died. The owner of the apartment he made an offer on died, and it's been repossessed by the lending bank, due to unpaid mortgage instalments. 

The housing association which co-owns the apartment doesn't seem to know what's going on. It's a troublingly bizarre situation, and he may end up moving back in with the friend with whom he shared a house before. There are so many people in similar situations these days, being robbed of the right to secure housing by lack of legislation surrounding property speculation. 

"Woe unto them who add house unto house", as the prophet Isaiah said two and a half thousand years ago.

Unique performance

I woke up at eight thirty to post my link to What'sApp for today's Morning Prayer and reflection, having overslept by an hour. I listened to Thought for the Day on catchup, and was glad I did. Sam Wells, Vicar of St Martin in the Fields commented on Prime Minister Rishi Sunak's speech in which he talked about his commitment to 'fix' the mistakes made by Liz Truss. He pointed out how inappropriate it was to talk of fixing something as hugely complex and dynamic as a national economy as if it was as simple as mending a toy, or something mechanical. Better to think of the task in hand as one requiring time and patience, like restoring a river valley ruined by industry. 

A point well made, and a reminder of how careless politicians journalists and other public leaders can be communicating with their audience, dumbing down concepts and processes which require more effort to understand. An attempt to be enlightening can so easily end up being misleading instead. I'm reminded of this every time I'm drafting my weekly reflection or a sermon. 

I was nearly late for the Eucharist at St John's after breakfast. There were just four of us today. I couldn't pick up groceries for the food bank collection beforehand, but as the church is staying open on Thursdays until midday now, in case people want to come in for a warm and a chat, so I was able to go to Tesco's after coffee and get two week's worth, since we were away last week. It's been too mild recently to give reason to people not heating their homes to come to church for the morning. Things may be different if the weather turns really cold, but so far we don't know to what extent this will happen with unpredictable weather all year round.

Clare cooked us a veggy stir fry with mussels for lunch. I spent the afternoon recording and editing next Thursday's audio. We had an early supper, then walked over to the Royal Welsh College for a special recital. Renowned veteran singer Benjamin Luxon accompanied by pianist grandson Joshua, a student at RWCMD. Ben is 85 and long retired from performance due to hearing impairment, but he's still full of energy. He still performs as poetry reader, narrator, musical director and master class teacher. As he said himself, "Keep performing until you no longer enjoy what you're doing." I say Amen to that.

He delivered a long dramatic narrative poem called 'Enoch Arden' by Alfred Lord Tennyson. Richard Strauss wrote a rich musical accompaniment for its recitation, which Josh played. Ben's wife, daughter and granddaughter were seated in the row in front of us. The resemblance between the three generations of women was striking! Like them, Josh also has long jet black hair down to the middle of his back. And why not when you're a gifted pianist?

The performance was emotionally powerful if to my mind occasionally flawed by his pronunciation. Unfamiliarity with his Cornish accent however may have added to my difficulty in decoding his speech. I'd like to hear this poem performed by Welsh Actor Michael Sheen, who has similar Celtic passion and amazing clear diction. Also present was David Willison, Ben's piano accompanist for thirty eight years, with stories of his own to tell during the post performance Q&A. It was a privilege to be present for a work so rarely performed by a unique grandpa and grandson musical duo.

We walked to the town centre to catch a bus outside the Holiday Inn, and one pulled up just as we got to the stop, so we were home by twenty past nine. It meant that I could finish the audio editing started this afternoon, and feel satisfied to get that done nice and early. And so to bed.

Royal Edition

This morning early I posted the link to Morning Prayer in place of Ruth who's unwell. She was going to be away this week when I offered, but she and her husband caught covid instead and had to stay home. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were seven of us for the service.  It was good to have our sacristan Clive administering the chalice for the first time.

After coffee, I went and collected this week's veggie bag then returned for lunch and a siesta before a walk around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. As a result of recent days of rain the water level in the Taff as risen enough to flow over the entire width of the weir for the first time since February according to my record in photographs.

There was a hard choice of viewing on telly this evening 'Autumnwatch' was on at the same time as 'The Repair Shop' - Royal Edition! Prince Charles, as he was at the time, visited the team workshop with a vase and a carriage clock to restore. Not only that, the team went on location to Dumfries House in Scotland, where Prince Charles has established a training centre for all kinds of craftsmen and restorers of historic objects. Hundreds of young people have learned specialist skills that have made them employable, and for some a lifelong vocation as an artisan.

They were shown around and introduced to students and apprentice masters by the Prince himself. It was a wonderful showcase programme for all the things that presenter Jay Blades and King Charles care about and promote. The warm mutual regard they demonstrated was a delight to witness. A relaxed and informal view of the man soon to become King when the programme was recorded. An inspirational hour, and providential timing in terms of the public's impression of our new sovereign.

It was followed by a fascinating documentary which surveyed the entire history of children's television programmes, pointing out their innovatory and sometimes radical controversial character, contributing in quite a subversive way to nurturing social change. Many of the early programmes visited I remember from growing up, but those from the period when our children grew up, I knew very little about, which only goes to show how seldom I sat down and watched telly with the kids when they were growing into their teens. Too busy 'vicaring' as they'd observe, no doubt.

Lessons from nature

Clare had an appointment at the University Optometrist clinic in Cathays. I drove her there after breakfast and booked an appointment for myself a month from now when I should be ready for new prescription lenses. 

Meanwhile King Charles was being visited by outgoing and incoming Prime Minister, their words being under intense scrutiny by the political commentariat, as were appointments to ministerial office in the new government. Rishi Sunak's broad spectrum of choices express his intention to unite people across the Tory party in facing up to the multidimensional crisis the government now faces. Together they have two years to make a difference they hope will keep the Tories in contention at the next election. The Labour Party has to show in the same period of time that its policies are capable of delivering something better for the benefit of all the electorate. For either side it's a difficult challenge.

After her appointment, Clare went shopping in town while I drove home and cooked lunch. After a siesta, a walk in Llandaff Fields until sunset. The weather is still mild, there have been no cold shocks or strong wind to strip the trees so far. Autumn leaf colours are noticeably different this year, with oranges, browns, reds and yellows as well as greens on some trees rather than one colour predominating. I have taken only a few photos since my cataract op, preferring to give my eyes a rest for a few days, but I must make the effort to capture this year's unusual spectacle - a product not only of summer heat and drought producing a 'false autumn', but also the mild weather and recent rain.

Clare insisted it was time to dispose of a decade of till receipts, kept 'just in case' never needing to be checked. She made a start with the shredder, and I continued the job until it stopped working, with three quarters of them not yet disposed of. I burned about half of them in a bucket in the garden which was slow and messy, and gave up when it got dark and it was time for supper. Later I checked it over and found it still worked. It must have a cut out switch for when it overheats. So I completed the task, and put out two sackfulls of shredded tens of thouands, after so many years.

After supper BBC Two's 'Autumn Watch' programme series began once more. Four hour long weeknight live broadcast programmes from nature reserves around the UK, looking in depth at a wide range of wild life in their changing habitats, observing the impact of climate change on plants and animals, producing amazing footage from special cameras night and day, plus beautiful photos and amazing film footage of creatures in the wild occurring as the weeks go by. 

I was particularly struck by images of a pair of ring ousels, which lay their eggs in a nest in vegetation just above the shoreline. An area of land close to the nest site was hit by a wildfire. The mother bird was shown sitting on her four eggs until heat and smoke drove her away. Later in the same day she returned to sit on the eggs. Three of them hatched, and two of the chicks survived and flourished, we were told. 

In another programme on afterwards, film footage was shown of a pod of orcas hunting down a penguin in the sea away from the safety of ice flow. It managed to stay just ahead of them, and when it saw one of the inflatable boats made several attempts to leap on board. On its third attempt, with aid from a passenger it succeeded then stood out of harm's way in the middle of the boat for ten minutes, surrounded by astonished people. Meanwhile, the orca pod stalked the boat until they lost interest. Once the coast was clear, the penguin leapt off the boat and continued uneaten for the time being. Examples of the survival instinct at work. The animal kingdom has so much to teach us in our reckless ways. This is live telly at its very best. It should be compulsory viewing for all cabinet members

Leadership change

A rainy day with occasional bursts of sunshine. My eyesight is recovering well now. Six doses of eye drops daily over the weekend has minimised any irritation or tenderness. For the next three and a half weeks it's four doses a day. I hope the two little eyedropper bottles last that long. 

Back to the Monday routine of hoovering, then grocery shopping before lunch. Afterwards, listening to the live broadcast from Parliament, building up to the two o'clock announcement of the result of Tory party leadership nomination contest. At one minute to two Penny Mordaunt announced her withdrawal from the process, making way for the 'coronation' of Rishi Sunak, the remaining nominee for the job as party leader and Prime Minister. Like Boris, she spoke of uniting behind the leadership of one candidate. Like Boris she didn't have the support of over half the MPs willing to entrust the job to her. An historic day for Britain as Sunak is the first British Prime Minister of Asian Hindu parentage. By a remarkable coincidence today is the Hindu Festival of Diwali.

It's such a shame that the 200,000 members of the Tory Party with voting rights chose Liz Truss instead of Sunak seven weeks ago, as her policy proposals have had such disastrous consequences for the country's economy. Fortunately he's very intelligent, capable and maybe far sighted, having earned his small fortune in hedge fund market trading. The MPs wanted him first time around but the party members went for Truss, fooled by her reckless unsubstantiated promises. I can't see that happening with Sunak. He's got a very difficult job ahead of him, pulling the country back from the brink of economic collapse, but I think he can do it. His political views are poles apart from mine, but he has honourable values, integrity and will I think, be honest with the country about whatever he thinks needs to be done. Such a change from Boris. 

When I'd listened to enough news and comment, I walked half way to town and took the bus the rest of the way, taking two watches belonging to my sister to get replacement batteries fitted at the stall in the market, a five minute job. Then, a look around John Lewis for any bargain cameras. Although my HX90 still works, with a hole in the corner of the casing and without working viewfinder, it would only take a few drops of rainwater through the hole to stop it working altogether.

I took the bus back to Canton and called into Beanfreaks to buy a large refill pack of cinnamon and a rye loaf, then walked the rest of the way home and watched the news again before supper. There wasn't much of interest to watch early evening, so I went for a short walk in the dark, and was delighted to find how much of a difference the cataract removal has made to my night vision. This will give me greater confidence about night driving in future.

I watched another barely intelligible episode of 'The Blacklist'. In the effort to sustain a fast pace editing has dis-jointed the storyline, and the dialogue isn't all that enlightening. Why do I watch? To see how much worse it can get, I guess.

Elections in view

We attended the Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning along with thirty five adults and ten children. For the sermon sacristan Clive gave a superb address about mental health. He's lived successfully with bi-polar disorder and has been under treatment for over thirty years, so was speaking from personal experience. He gave us lots to think about, especially in terms of what churches in the ministry area may be able to offer to support sufferers positively.

Another siesta after lunch, then a few laps of Thompsons Park, until it started to drizzle and then rain, as it did yesterday. This evening, two series finales on BBC One. The Ulster dirty cop saga 'Bloodlands' and before it, the last episode in the latest series of Doctor Who aired with Jodie Whittaker as the Doctor, and featured a selection of actors who had in the past forty years accompanied the Doctor in time travel, all at their current ages, of course. The Bloodlands ending was complex enough but intelligible. whereas the Doctor Who story was to my mind unfathomable with occasional self-referential jokes - a bit like UK politics at the moment. 

Boris Johnson has withdrawn from the Tory leadership contest, after declaring he had enough support to win but doing so in the interests of party unity at this critical time. Tomorrow we will learn if there will be an electoral contest or, as the media call an uncontested outcome 'a coronation'. What we won't get, despite opposition calls for one, is a general election.

In this week's diocesan newsletter, an announcement was about the procedure for electing a new Bishop. I know personally two of the clergy electors, and wonder if I should say anything to them about the criteria for candidacy rather than who would be worth taking seriously as our new spiritual leader. I suspect, however, that other people will voice the concern I feel about overlooking Church in Wales candidates and importing yet another CofE cleric unlikely to get preferment in the Province they serve. 

Someone who already speaks Welsh and has served in Wales is needed to boost morale and inspire the faithful remnant of church membership to reach out afresh to the nation at this exceedingly difficult time. It seems to me that pressure to undertake new missionary initiatives with all kinds of 'experts' has resulted in further reducing the spread of grass roots pastoral ministry, and fails to recognise that missionary initiative springs from and is fed by pastoral care owned by church people at grass roots level. That was the lesson learned by Roland Allen from church growth in China and Uganda a century ago; sadly, one which well educated and sophisticated institutional churches have been reluctant to learn ever since.

Catching up after time out

After breakfast, Clare was picked up by Mother Frances for a trip to the choir rehearsal in Llantwit Major. As I wasn't sure I'd be able to cope with sight reading music comfortably, I decided not to go. I spent the entire morning recording and editing audio for the two Morning Prayer video sessions I'm doing for next week, standing in for Ruth on Wednesday. 

My left eye wasn't giving me any pain or discomfort while I worked, though I'm a bit sensitive to brighter white light, and played around with the display settings on my laptop to find out which suited me better - testing is a work in progress. I no longer have a strong double image at an odd angle in this eye, but a slight ghosting of high contrast images vertically above. It may rectify itself in the coming week, but I believe it may need reading specs with a corrective lens, as I noticed the ghosting disappeared when looking through my current spec lens from the edge near the frame where there's a slight curvature. The big challenge at the moment is self administration of they eye drops.

Then, I cooked lunch in time for Clare's return at one thirty. I sat down in the lounge to listen to 'Any Answers', having listened to 'Any Questions', interested in what callers said about another unprecedented Tory leadership contest, and in particular about the return of Boris Jonson to the forefront of political life after a spell of disgrace which isn't concluded yet, as he is under investigation into his conduct while in office. Amazing that people can be in denial about his ability and character as a political leader. 

Before the programme had finished, I fell asleep for an hour, and then went out for a walk before it got dark. It was a pleasure to be able to see clearly again outdoors in late afternoon light. Although I can see quite well with my right eye, as it hasn't clouded over yet, the difference between the eye with a cataract and the one without is quite marked. The days seem to be shortening very fast now. Clocks back next weekend. It had been overcast and dry most of the day, but started to drizzle and then rain properly half way through my walk. Rather than get soaked I cut short my walk by half an hour, returned home and continued working on the prayer videos and then uploading them to YouTube before supper.

I went to bed afterwards to watch tonight's double episode of 'Wisting' on my Chromebook, so that Clare could watch a programme about Billy Connolly on telly, which I've seen before.

Recovery

After a fairly comfortable night's sleep, I found my left eye was far less foggy, though still feeling bruised and responding to bright light uncomfortably. Chris put my first lot of eye drops in before breakfast, and Martin the second batch at lunchtime, which was helpful to dtart with, so that I know what success is like.

 As the morning passed it became much clearer, if a bit slow to focus at a distance. The double image I've had in this eye for several years has gone, and reading even without specs surprisingly enough, much easier. I'm sure I will need new specs when all has settled down eventually, but for the moment, the ones I have are adequate. 

Just before lunch eye surgeon Andrew rang up to check me out, and was pleased at the progress I reported. It seems my response to treatment was somewhat quicker than he expected. He's recommended using the eye drops six times a day. Until Monday, and then reverting to four. That'll be a challenge to remember.

Martin drove me home and I arrived just after Clare had returned from Langland Bay, by taxi to Swansea station and then train to Cardiff and another taxi to the house. I was relieved to have her help with the eye drops. There were answering machine calls on Thuesday and Wednesdays from Pidgeons about a funeral the week after next, but as I'd not responded they found someone else. I've shared my mobile number with them now for future reference.

I was due to go to St German's for a Concert this evening, but a walk to the shops made me realise that as I was still feeling the after effects of the operation, the effort of going out again would be too much for me at this stage. I'm in two minds about going to the concert rehearsal tomorrow, although I need the practice, a quiet day without effort would do me more good.

More Four Walter Presents had a new French crimmie series to watch this evening, about a detective who teams up with a police archivist whose job is to process crime records. The archivist is autistic with a vast amount of criminological expertise, plus an encyclopaedic memory, which is invaluable in researching the background of crimes, and making connections others cannot see. It's an interesting theses, maybe based on a real life person writ large. The actress playing the archivist part is brilliant in representing autistic behaviour and inevitably the awkward dialogue between her and the other characters is funny. It's quite an original take on the subject of neuro-diversity and human potential.  

Op day

Wednesday morning we went for a clifftip was in the direction of Limslade Bay. As we approached the penultimate headland the wind became so fierce we had to turn back or risk being blown off the path.

After lunch, I packed my bag and left for home, collecting the week's veggie bag on the way. After repacking to took the train to Newport and walked up Stow Hill to Chris and Martin's place to spend a couple of nights either side of tomorrow's cataract op, arriving at seven.

I was treated to a right royal feast with salt marsh lamb chops and a perfect matching 2012 Barolo, before settling down in front of their giant telly to watch a movie about a con-man who pretended to be an MI5 officer, seducing and swindling wealthy young women, apparently a real life story. before turning in for the night.

*******

My alarm woke me at six, and I was ready for the drive to St Joseph's hospital by six thirty. There was ten minutes of panic before Martin found the car keys, then all was well and I arrived on time.

I was the last of four people that eye surgeon Andrew was treating in the morning session. First a briefing, then twenty minutes preparation for surgery with the anaesthetist to make my eye suitably numb for surgery, then a brief greeting from Andrew before being face covered for the job. The next half hour was in the dark with occasional flickers of light and the sensation of liquid running off my temple.

I was soon on my feet again afterwards with no left eye vision for a while until the anaethetic started to  wear off, then disconcertingly clear double vision for several hours while the eye's control muscles thawed out. As I regained full use of my left eye, my vision turned very foggy and stayed like that the rest of the evening, clearing gradually. The eyeball ached and reacted painfully to strong light, not surprising after invasive surgery. 

Partly with one eye we watched a movie about a real life Dutch art forger in the immediate post war period, able to paint in the style of Vermeer convincingly enough to fool top level experts. As compelling to watch as the TV series 'Face or Fortune'. I was pertty tired by the time I turned in, after such a momentous day. Tomorrow will be different again.

Headland view

Another day of sunshine and clouds, warm enough to eat lunch again out on the terrace. Before lunch, we walked on the coast path as far as Caswell Bay. Clare and Ann turned back at the point. I continued the last quarter of a mile as far as the beach cafe before turning back, and climbing up the steep track to walk back on the clifftop path, perched 120 metres above sea, and seventy above the metalled coast path. The view from the top is wonderful. The broad headland is occupied by part of the Langland golf course, and was busy with golfers. The path around the periphery of the fairway was not well way-marked. The path descent was steep and embedded with sharp stones which was painfully difficult to negotiate. I arrived footsore back at the apartment just as Clare was serving a delicious lentil curry.

In the afternoon, I drove the car to the junction at the top of the hill and walked into Mumbles along Overland Road, which runs along the ridge before descending to Oystermouth, taking me directly to the south entry of All Saints' Parish Church. This was the route I couldn't find on Sunday. I bought a couple of bottles of wine, then walked back along the main road route to where I left the car, a round trip of an hour. Normally I'd have walked the whole way there and back, but the morning's steep hill climbs left me with tired legs, and I didn't want to push myself right up to the limit of what they can take.

The house internet upload speed is so slow it stalls coping with multiple photo uploads. Google Photos seems to work by batch uploading four pictures at at a time, which works well if the upload speed is fast enough, but not at all if the speed is less than half a megabyte a second, so photos have to be uploaded completely one a time, and this takes much longer. It took me more than an hour before supper to upload the two dozen photos I took earlier in the day. 

After supper we talked over a nice bottle of Chilean Pinto Noir, then watched an old episode of 'The Mallorca Files' on telly, as there was nothing else on of any interest to watch before the news.

Ann arrives

This morning after breakfast we made another effort to walk into town and find the route we missed yesterday. At first we were still confused by the Google map but found a man who gave us directions, taking us back to the complex junction at the top of the hill above Langland Bay. There we found a flight of steps down through a wooded area above a playing field leading us in the right direction to reach the shops.

On the opposite side of the road was the lane that could take us close to Oystermouth Parish Church, the one we failed to find yesterday because the street name sign was obscured by vegetation. So now we know.

We did some food shopping and walked back, then had a light lunch and set off for the station to collect Ann from her train. Not an easy place for dropping off or picking up people by car, available areas just too small for the number of very short stay drivers. I had to drive around the streets in the ten minutes of waiting as the congestion was so bad that stopping was risky.

Once reunited, we went back for a cuppa, and then a walk on the beach at low tide, watching surfers performing among two metre waves as the sun was setting. I got some quite decent photos of them.

I cooked a paella for supper, which was quite successful, despite me having to contend with cooking for the first time on a high tech electric  induction hob mounted on an electric Aga stove. It seemed to switch itself off occasionally for no apparent reason, while I worked. All was well in the end, however, and paella produced.

We sat around and talked or read after supper. It watched 'Blacklist' although it no longer makes sense to me. There seems to be a sci-fi dimension to the story line now on top of all the other crime conspiracy stuff it pitches.

The evening news we watched together. What's happened since Liz Truss became Prime Minister is so unprecedented in modern political history that it too feels like soap opera fiction. Except that it's real life, here and now.

Sad day of loss

We woke up to find the sky no longer overcast, the sun peering through clouds and almost no wind. not a continuation of yesterday's weather, as expected. After breakfast, we set out to walk to church with enough time to get to All Saints Oystermouth Parish church for the ten o'clock Eucharist, a walk of just under a mile to cover in twenty minutes. Google Maps took us along the coast path to Rotherslade cove, bur we were a uncertain about where the pedestrian route was meant to ascend to the main road. After checking we walked up the main street to the junction, which gave us a choice of roads. 

The layout of the digital map with a pedestrian route overlay was unclear and we missed a turning going in the right direction to start with, then got hopelessly lost. At quarter past ten we retraced our steps to the junction, having walked for three quarters of an hour, and missing the service altogether. I was, to say the least upset and angry with myself and with Google Maps which on this occasion was more of a hindrance than a help. Mumbles isn't good at way-marking pedestrian routes anyway, and the newer outskirts of the town are extensive streets of suburban housing which hide landscape features to navigate by.

I had resisted taking the car, preferring to walk, not knowing if there'd be anywhere to leave it while we were in church, parking near a town centre without preliminary reconnaisance a risk not worth taking if you have a set time to be there, before rather than after the church bell stops ringing. Anyway, when we got back to the apartment, I took the car into the town centre, too late for church, but we needed fruit and bread. I'd seen a couple of supermarkets when we arrived yesterday and supposed they'd be open, so I was able to find parking in side street near Tesco's and buy what we needed.

Then I checked on Google Maps were I was in relation to All Sains' church and found it was only five minutes walk away, so I went to inspect. It sits just above the main coast road shopping street, visible from afar. As I entered a group of people were chatting with the priest celebrant over coffee in the area around the baptismal font. A lady welcomer greeted me and we chatted about the church. When she left for home another came and chatted with me. Both were proud of the church and spoke with affection of Archbishop Rowan, a local boy growing up as a choirboy and altar server there, and the beginnings of his call to be a priest and theologian.

The building is on an interesting site, occupied by a centurion's sea shore villa in Roman times, with a small church there from Norman times, built before Oystermouth castle to serve the fisher folk who lived and worked from the shore. This forms the south east Lady chapel of today's large handsome edifice dating from the early twentieth century. Obviously a lively outgoing congregation with strong links to the community it serves, and its holiday visitors. 

I may have missed Mass today, but I was glad to have had a glimpse into the life of a conventional parish congregation that still alive and well if, like most others diminished in number. It was interesting to see above the large west porch a modest suite of rooms had been constructed in restrained modern style bringing the church hall inside the building in effect. It's unusual, but imitates a feature often found in larger mediaeval churches, providing accomodation for the virger or sexton.

The weather was kind enough to enable us to eat lunch at an outdoor table on the sea facing terrace. Then we went for a walk on the coast path as far as the entry to Caswell Bay, stopping for tea at a brasserie on the beach. The further west we went on the undulating concrete cliff side path, the more windy it became, so we turned and retraced our steps.

A massage arrived from cousin Dianne to say that cousin Godfrey died yesterday, aged eighty five. Of the fifteen cousins, he's the fifth to die. All eight aunts and uncles who were Kimber siblings are gone too. Each loss is another sadness. Godfrey was the first of us to graduate with a degree. I followed his example in choosing Bristol University. He married a North Walian, Jean, and settled in Bethesda, learning Welsh and teaching Physics and Maths through the medium of Welsh. He was a committed socialist involving himself in local politics, and was a Labour County Councillor for Gwynedd well after retirement. He's had prostate cancer and his heart trouble meant surgery was too risky. He know this shortly after visiting us at home last year, when we had a lovely catch-up session after many years. He was active also in his local Welsh Baptist church. His religion and politics were inseparable and natural. There aren't many around these days to succeed him in life of public service lived as an outcome of his faith. May he rest in peace. 

After supper we watched 'Frozen Planet II' and then I watched the penultimate episode of 'Bloodlands'. Neither of them left much room for optimism about human nature or the future of the planet. Altogether a sad day of loss. 

Return to the Gower

After breakfast, packing for our Gower holiday. Before lunch a quick visit to Llandaff Fields to take a few pictures of the Cross Country Challenge athletics meeting, then we set out for Langland Bay Gower, arriving just after four.

We collected the keys for our holiday apartment from an office in Mumbles, then drove the last mile there. We're in a very well appointed ground floor apartment with the coast path at the bottom of the garden, and a stunning view across Langland Bay.

The car park is above the tall Victorian house with a modern extension where our apartment is, and there's a flight of thirty steps down which to carry luggage. This weekend there's a strongvwind gusting to 50mph, so installing ourselves was quite a challenge.

After unpacking, we went for a walk along the concreted footpath in an easterly direction towards the Rams Tor headland, but the gusting wind made walking perilous so we climbed up to a road sheltered a little from the wind, and returned to Langland.

After supper, I watched the double episode of 'Wisting' the latest Norwegian crimmie of BBC Four plus the end of an Inspector Borowski epidode from yesterday before turning in for the night.

Crab apple time

I spent the morning backing up photo files to a hard drive, so that they're not just deposited on the web or on one of my computers. I do this only two or three times a year and it takes time to do thoroughly, so that I can keep track of them all.

Yesterday, I noticed a photographer taking pictures of number eleven next door. Days before furniture was delivered. We wondered at first if someone was moving in, but as the house hasn't yet been advertised for sale or rent this seemed unlikely. Seeing the photographer I realised he was taking promotional photos. This evening I noticed that a 'For Sale' notice had been erected. It'll be advertised on the web now, and in the estate agent's shop window.

We received a letter this morning notifying us of a Welsh Athletics Association cross country competition in Llandaff Fields tomorrow, as a large number of people will converge on the area and there will be some traffic disruption. When I went out for my afternoon walk, miles of running lanes had been marked out with stakes and special marker tape all around the western part of the park, with a small tent village for those involved in welcoming people and organising the event, all erected this morning. I walked around the perimeter once, then remembered that I'd promised to pick crab apples from our favourite pair of trees today as now they are ripe enough to harvest and turn into jelly.

I went home to get a bag and met Clare just returned from buying a train ticket at the station, and she came harvesting with me. We picked seven and a half pounds between us, and prepared three pounds worth for cooking straight away. The rest will have to wait in the shed for cooking when we return from the Gower.

Waste Land centenary

I woke early this morning, posted the Morning Prayee link to WhatsApp and then dozed on and off for nearly an hour before getting up. I went to the King's Road pharmacy at ten for my 'flu jab, and then to St John's for the Eucharist. There were nine of us present. Over coffee one of those present told us how the previous week he'd been in hospital on a drip for eighteen hours, a consequence of a serious imbalance in his blood electrolytes pushing his kidneys towards failure. This had affected his walking and his speech until the problem was diagnosed. It was due to the cocktail of medications he was taking for a heart condition not working together properly. 

It seems that medics treating him for ailments in different hospital departments don't feel the need to communicate with each other, or check side effects thorougly. His system needed flushing out of the toxic mess to restore him to normal functioning. Thankfully it worked. It makes me wonder about the modern world's dependency on so many kinds of medication when their combined effects on each individual can be haphazard and dangerous for some.

I returned home, cooked lunch, slept some more afterwards and then went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields. Below the weir there were three cormorants, one on top of the bridge pillar, two perched on rocks by the pool below the weir, and the young heron on another rock in between them. I got some good photos including a couple of the heron in the air, flying and just about to land. Sheer luck.

While I was taking photos on the far side of the river, I met a man called Paddy who told me that during the covid lockdowns he's patrolled this stretch of river with a video camera, observing the wildlife and changes of season. He's now in the late stages of editing his takes into a documentary. I told him about the thousands of still photos I'd taken in the same period, and still take on my daily walks. I hope to be able to find him on Facebook and see what he's made in due course.

In the evening, my laptop announced that it was ready to install Windows 11, so now that I've experienced this on my sister's laptop, I decided to let this happen. It didn't take as long as I thought it would, less than an hour, but then my laptop is much more powerful that June's, and cost about the same, second hand. While this took place, I watched the rest of the final episode of 'Inspector Borowski' on my Chromebook, sitting alongside the updating machine. A little tidying up was necessary, including shifting the Start menu back from the middle to the left side, and switching off a couple of redundant features. It looks the way it did before upgrade, except that the appearance of the icons has had a decent makeover.

Just as everything was finishing, a must-watch documentary started on BBC Two about T.S. Eliot and his innovative masterpiece of a poem 'The Waste Land' which was published for the first time a century ago this month. It drew on letters sent to Eliot by a woman he loved but never married, and the formative influence of his wife, and the poet Ezra Pound during the writing process. It was a fascinating hour and a half programme with various literary scholars commenting, and recorded sections of the poem spoken by Eliot himself, and Simon Russell Beale.

When we were undergraduates, Clare studied Eliot's poetry and occasionally, I went to her lectures to sit at the feet of Professor L.C. Knights and learn about 'The Waste Land', which I had also come across, though I can't remember who introduced me to it. It was all part of the opening up to the wider world which being at university made possible for a fairly focussed Chemistry student, part of my love affair with beautiful poetic words which has been part of my life for the past sixty years. And that inits turn has much to do with how I came to accept the call to ordained ministry, when it came to me out of the blue from a fellow Chemistry student in my second year. I might of got wealthier with a Chemistry career, but in many ways my life has been far richer than I could ever have imagined.

Sometimes limping

I slept unusually well, and started the day feeling fresh. A dozen of us were at the St Catherine's Eucharist, and most stayed for coffee and chat afterwards. I went straight from there to collect this week's veggie bag, and got home in time to see Clare with a delicious fish pie ready to go into the oven for lunch. 

Afterwards, I recorded next week's Morning Prayer audio and reflection, then edited and turned it into a video slideshow and uploaded it to YouTube. On this occasion, the whole task, apart from preparing the texts, took two hours. It usually takes longer.

Then I went to the Co-op for the week's grocery shopping, a rather heavy load to carry around in a basket to the checkout, but noticeable because right ankle joint pains were suddenly acute enough to make me limp. My knee joint gets out of alignment and causes this to happen. It seems quite random. Sometimes I can correct the alignment, other times not. The joints aren't especially worn, but the connecting muscles either get too stiff or too lose, it's hard to know which. I think it's related to sitting on an upright chair at a table when working on the computer. 

There seems to be no particular position or posture which prevents my legs from mis-alignment. I need a treatment from Kay, who's a sports injury specialist, not just to sort me out, but to learn from her how tackle this sustainably. There's an element of pressure on a nerve in this. It doesn't add to the ankle pain but affects the whole body, like a mild shock. It's quite exhausting when it happens, but with a little rest I soon recover. 

The only thing I couldn't get on the shopping list was sunflower oil. A side effect of the war in Ukraine cutting supply chains. None in stock. Last week, I bought a bottle at Tesco's. I limped straight home rather than divert to buy some there, and after a cup of tea and sit down, ventured out again. This time my ankle gave me hardly any trouble. It's hard to figure out what had change in the half hour between excursions but a relief nevertheless. Tesco had lots of bottles of sunflower oil, even five litre ones. I think the reason for this abundance is to do with the Tesco business brand having a big chain of supermarkets in Hungary, also a producer of sunflower oil. While I was there I also bought a bag full of cans for the parish food bank offering. It was pretty heavy and I was relieved this didn't affect my walking, as happened earlier.

After supper I went to bed with my Chromebook and watched another 'Inspector Borowski' episode for a couple of hours, looking at the phenomenon of sexist and right wing chat rooms on the dark web, and the kind of pathetic loners these attract.. This series three is very up to date in its observation of contemporary social pathologies and the internet. There's a lot of nastiness out there in the virtual world, and some of it translates into horrifying incidents in real life. It's collateral damage from our excessive dependency on the benefits we think are conveyed on us by our use of digital tools. Any kind of dependency is not good for us as it robs us of creative freedom to shape our lives and decisions without us realising. Just because it conveys the illusion of great convenience and immediacy of communication doesn't mean there's no price to pay. When will we start to say 'enough'? 

Day of Reckoning

After breakfast, I started work sorting documents and retrieving information for my tax return. That took me until lunchtime as it involved sorting through paper bank statements and my on-line bank account to look for information in the one that I couldn't identify in the other. The trouble with going cashless is that a bank statement expands from one to three pages due to the multiplicity of small entries. When checking donations on-line, it was difficult to spot the particular entries as my particular on-lone account doesn't have a search by name of recipient, or a payment history for each recipient. A whole morning to get it all straight, and then lunch to cook while Clare was out at her study group.

After lunch, I started work on my digital tax return, which then only took me an hour to complete and submit. Some of its internal procedures have been simplified a little, making it easier to complete without puzzlement. Even with my income from un-taxed fees declared, it turned out that HMRC owe me a small sum, which is better than it being the other way round. After all that concentrated effort I felt quite tired and slept in the chair for over an hour.

Then I went out of a walk taking my Song Alpha 68 DSLR with me for the first time in five months. It felt so much heavier to carry than the Olympus. My last two photos were of an egret on the Taff. One was near the shore and the other, slightly blurred, in flight. A couple of mallards noisily arriving nearby alarmed the egret and it took to the wing. I swung the camera up, pointed and shot in what I hoped was the right area. The Sony's slick shutter response did the rest. It's not great, but here it is anyway.

I walked for an hour an a half taking photos, so far autumn looks quite different from the vivid colours of last year due to the extreme heat and dryness of the summer. Dark green tree canopies have been touched with reds and yellows since the end of August. A few trees have lost most of their leaves already, trees that were golden yellow for a month last year. 

After supper we watched a Norwegian documentary in the BBC Four 'Storyville' series about systemic racism against the Norwegian Sami population, focussing on the lack of attention by public authorities of serious cases of incest and child abuse in one remote marginalised poor village. A disturbing account of victims' lives when safeguarding isn't taken seriously at all, due to cultural prejudice. Hard to watch. I think it should be required homework for church safeguarding training courses, not because there's any religion in it, but because of the witness of those who suffered across the generations,

Admin time

A cold bright sunny day to wake up to, after the night of the full Harvest Moon which I didn't see as there was a veil of high cloud last night. After breakfast I called St Joseph's hospital to find out about the pre-op PCR, only to be told this is no longer a requirement, just a larer flow test on the morning of the operation. It's a relief that I don't have to return from the Gower a second time in our holiday week. Then a resumption of Monday housework chores, followed by some preparatory work on a biblical reflection for the Morning Prayer video upload on operation day. The less I have to do while we're away, the better.

While Clare was cooking lunch, I attempted to renew my phone and broadband contract with TalkTalk on their website. I guess it was about now two years ago that I did this last. It's such a long time since I visited the webmail site I was first obliged by their security to change password. Then the upgrade/renewal links didn't work, so I had to phone the helpline. I didn't have to wait long, but the process was careful and laborious, taking twenty five minutes to complete. Doing this has reduced my monthly bill by ten quid, but it will go up again, by the measure of inflation next April. Heaven knows how much extra we'll be paying over the next eighteen months.

After lunch I went for a treatment with Clive, taking an appointment taken by Clare. Now she's started her daily osteoporosis injections, she decided to forego physical therapies while while observing whether the new treatment makes any difference or not. It's my first with Clive in three years, having last seen him before going to Ibiza. What a lot has happened since then. He's gone from grey to white hair, so have I. The treatment was more of a therapeutic massage this time than before. It remains to be seen if it makes a difference, other than relieving me of tension and stress.

When I got back home, I booked EasyJet flights from Bristol for my next locum duty 26th January to the 13th April. Fortunately both flights are at reasonable daytime hours. No Vueling flights from Cardiff airport as the spring timetable hasn't been published yet. I don't think they'll resume until April, so demand for early year flights from Bristol will be higher, so booking as early as possible to get the most reasonable prices is necessary. I didn't book hold baggage again this time, as it adds a lot to the cost. As it is, the two way flight cost £181. Another hundred for a hold bag. I can do without the extra capacity, having learned to travel light.

This evening I visited my on-line bank account for the first time in ages. There's been no need to. move money around, except by card payment. I realised that I hadn't contributed to church funds for a while, and was shocked to find it was six months since I last made an on-line transfer. Peace of mind now for a while. There's only my tax return left to do on-line. It can wait until tomorrow. A walk in the dark around Llandaff Fields, then another epidode of 'Inspector Borowski' to end the day.

Young musicians day

We were about three dozen adults and children at St Catherine's for the Harvest Festival Eucharist this morning. With another opera matinee this afternoon, we didn't stay around to socialise but went home and had n early lunch. Chris joined us again at the Millennium Centre for the Young WNO's performance of 'Cherrytown Moscow' written by Dimiri Shostakovitz in 1959. I've never heard of it before.It's more of a musical theatre work. The mid twentieth century 'musical' ethos, structure and composition style reminded of a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, funny satirical, with dancing and choruses, as well as solos and spoken dialogue.  

The story line was about life and love in post war Soviet Moscow at a time when housing redevelopment was under way in the face of accommodation shortage, making fun of administrative incompetence and corruption at the Cheryomushki high rise low cost housing estate. The cast consisted of about thirty young performers all dancing as well as singing in brilliantly choreographed, energetic routines involving the whole ensemble on stage at the same time. The libretto was written by two Russian satirists, performed in an English translation. The pace of the music made it difficult on times to take in the surtitles needed on times when the singing wasn't clear and distinctive. A most enjoyable experience. The three act show was  condensed into one, lasting two hours, uncomfortably long without an interval. Afterwards, we went for a walk around the Bay and had a coffee together before taking Chris to the train station on our way home.

We sat together after supper and watched the 'BBC Young Musician of the Year' final, with five astounding performers, all under twenty. It was so inspiring and uplifting, especially following Cherrytown Moscow.

Survival story

We both got up late this morning and as Clare hadn't made any pancake batter we decided to skip the usual Saturday ritual and have an everyday breakfast instead. I spent the morning recording and editing next week's Morning Prayer audio, and after lunch made the video and then uploaded it to YouTube. 

I was about to book flights for my next locum journey when Clare reminded me of two opera dates in March, five days apart. I contacted Jen, who was OK about me flying home for a week in the middle of my stay at my own expense and inserting the missing week before my departure. I recall doing this once before on locum Costa Azahar, as I had pre-booked a Sunday in Merthyr Vale covering for a priest who found it hard to get holiday cover.

Then another planning issue cropped up when reading the advisory letter from St Joseph's hospital about my cataract op. I'll have to do a PCR covid test several days beforehand, but don't know when, as the notification has yet to be issued. And we'll be away when that arrives, no doubt. I rang the hospital, but the pre-op department doesn't work on weekends, so I'll have call on Monday morning, and find out when it must be done. Unless it can be arranged in a clinic in Swansea, I'll have to drive to Newport and back and lose a third day out of a week in the Gower. 

We walked in the afternoon sunshine to Bute Park for a coffee at the 'Summer House' cafe. When we got home, Clare had a message on the neighbourhood WhatsApp from Ali and Hugo saying that surplus freshly picked apples were available free for anyone to collect. I went around and collected a bagful. Hugo has several trees evidently mature in his allotment. He harvested more than a hundred kilos, and most he's making cider with, having invested in a cider press of his own. Right here in our urban village! Amazing to think that before the industrial and urban development of this area a hundred and fifty years ago much of the land was taken up by fruit growing trees. Here and there gardens persist with old trees still cared for and bearing fruit. The apples are both sharp and sweet, good for cooking as well as eating. What a gift!

This evening I watched programmes in German with subtitles. First another investigation for 'Inspector Borowski' on Walter Presents and then the final double episodes of 'KaDeWe' on BBC Four portraying the rise of Nazism and its impact on retailers who were Jewish, some fleeing to America, others surviving or eliminated. The connecting thread was a group of young friends in business and the intense love affair of two women in the group from utterly different social backgrounds. 

Before the final credits rolled there was a 'what happened to ...' sequence about the destinies of the main characters, some historical other fictional. I googled KadeWe, and discovered that it is a real department store in Berlin which still exists, and is said to be the largest in Europe, founded in 1907 and still going strong today, having survived two world wars occupation and the partition of Germany. Its post-war revival was a morale boosting initiative, as much as anything else under the Marshall Plan which helped put Germany back on its feet. The full story would be worth a movie in its own right. Who knows? Perhaps it's already being planned or in the making. 

Now I understand why many of the street scenes were not in a period piece setting, but contemporary. The street plan is the same, with the department store in it, although it was rebuilt after the war and several storeys have been added to it since. The story of the store is here.

Embarrassing oversight

Cloudy with showers during the day, but clearing after dark to reveal the bright waxing moon nearly full. The noise of builders at work next door has ceased this week, and the scaffolding removed from the front. Looking out of the bedroom window this morning, I could see that the back garden makeover is complete. High wooden fences along neighbouring walls, white gravel in the side alley, a white tiled patio in front of the kitchen extension, and the remainder covered with an astro-turf lawn. The beautiful mature magnolia tree in the corner of the garden, flower beds and rose bushes were all destroyed before work on the attic conversion and kitchen extension began, replaced by a few large flower pots. We'll miss the tree and roses poking their heads about the trellis on our side of the wall. A sterile designer desert replaces a small refuge for birds, insects and other garden creatures. Incredibly sad.

After breakfast I had a long conversation on WhatsApp with Church Warden Jen on the Costa del Sol. She's a Welsh speaker hails from Ammanford, and with her husband  John served in Peru with the South American Missionary Society when they were young so both speak Spanish. In later life, John headed the organisation which sent them, and they retired to the Costa del Sol rather than stay in Britain. 

I learned that the chaplaincy now has three worship centres rather than the five which existed last time I was there on locum duty. Saint Andrew's church in Los Boliches has had its hall section renovated recently, and post-covid is getting used socially again, and congregation numbers picking up. I find it interesting that the Costa chaplaincies have similar attendances now to St Catherine's and St John's, about forty in the committed core of membership.

Clare and I shared the cooking of lunch. A nurse arrived as we were about to start eating, to teach Clare how and where to inject herself with the osteoporosis medication prescribed for her by the specialist bone consultant. Afterwards I went to town to bank a cheque in the main HSBC branch, one of the few left in Cardiff. The Canton branch closed last week, and I was saddened to see a work team emptying the building of its automatic machines. A product of the rise of on-line banking, it deprives customers of easy access to personal services, hitting hard those whose digital competence is limited or simply non-existent. Such an injustice.

I found a message from Mother Frances about another funeral the week after next, that I had to decline as we're down in the Gower. Then to my horror I realised that I'd already accepted to do another funeral earlier in the same week. I had to call her and the funeral directors and tell them I couldn't do either. I was mortified, and couldn't understand how I'd not noticed the commitment clash when it was written into my Google Calendar. It took me a while to work it out.

At the top of each calendar page church festivals and public holidays are listed in two separate lines, an engagement lasting over a week sits above them, and isn't so noticeable if the colour contrast doesn't make them noticeable. Too much information completing for attention. I switched off the festivals and holidays display now simplifying the diary page appearance. Now you can't miss any diary entry which spans days. I wish I'd done it before. I feel so ashamed of myself.

There wasn't much of interest on live TV, but I found there's a third series of 'Inspector Borowski' on More Four's 'Walter Presents' series of foreign movies. Old school German police procedural stories mostly focusing on cases where it turns out the perpetrator is a victim of circumstances who loses their grip on themselves, or just plain crazy, un-noticed. There's a fair amount of humour and occasionally surreal moments. I enjoyed the first two series episodes, so it's good there's another set to watch.                                                

Unexpected invitation

I woke up late this morning so it was nine before I posted the link to this week's Morning Prayer video. After breakfast, I went to Tesco's to shop for food bank groceries and took them to St John's. There was no Eucharist this week as the church was hosting a clergy in-service training day, but I slipped in and placed our contribution in the collection box, and departed. From what I could gather, a presentation on running church meetings had just begun. How thankful I was to be no longer obliged to attend things like this.

I went home and started preparing lunch early as I was going to be collected for a funeral at Thornhill at one thirty. There were about a dozen people present. The preparation for this one had been difficult, as the next of kin were poor at communicating their requirements for the service and responding to requests for information. Although the deceased didn't die suddenly, it seemed as if those involved were traumatized, unable to act. I gave it my best effort nevertheless. After the service the chief mourners left the chapel without acknowledging me, although a few mourners did express their appreciation. It's hard to know how any follow up might be made, or whether it would be appreciated. A rare experience.

After I returned, Clare and I went for a walk along either side of the Taff, calling into the 'Secret Garden' cafe for a drink. The water level in the river has risen over the past week of occasional rain, covering most of the rocks that have protruded from the river bed over previous months. None of the usual birds were to be seen either, perhaps changing their habits because of the change in their environment.

After supper on BBC Four we watched 'Young Musician of the Year' semi-final, featuring half a dozen very talented pianists. The winner of this section of the competition was Ethan Loch, a eighteen year old Scottish lad, blind from birth, who was able to coax out of the instrument sounds and textures which really inspired the judges in his immaculate and moving performance. It was most inspiring to listen to.

Then I noticed an email had arrived from someone I didn't know. It was from Jen a churchwarden at St Andrew's in Fuengirola, where I did a series of locum duty stints 2013-14 last eight months in all, asking if I'd be interested in returning there in the New Year. I was amazed that this should come to me out of the blue and not via Emma the diocesan locum administrator. Strange to say, this is how I first was asked out if I could cover St Andrew's of the blue, a phone came call, while I was waiting in the departure lounge for a return flight after a spell of duty in Nerja. We had a good time there. We know the house, being its first occupants after it was kitted out for use, and know the chaplaincy area already, so no disconcerting surprises going there again. I'm thrilled! The next step is to sort out dates. It's good to have something like this to look forward to.

Warm Wedneday

Clouds and intermittent showers again all day today. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were nine of us together in church. The church's 'Warm Wednesday' initiative started today, inviting people from the neighbourhood to come and enjoy the morning chatting or working in a heated church hall to save on home heating. Our energy supplier has sent us a projected bill, based average usage from the smart meter readings, and it looks as if we'll be paying about £500 extra in the next twelve months. We're minimising use of our gas central heating, getting used to a cooler house. Electricity is a little more challenging.

All of us stayed for a coffee and chat until midday, but there were no other takers. It's still too mild for people to feel the need, but advertising and regular opening will as colder weather bites will hopefully draw people in for an unconditional welcome, and we'll see whether or not it develops. St John's will do the same thing starting next Thursday.

Economic anxiety in the face of inflation and  interest rates has shown itself at every turn in the week's news generally and the Tory Party conference in particular, with open criticism of the Prime Minister's urgent policy reforms, leading to immediate  policy changes to placate angry members. Liz Truss bangs the drum for economic growth, but her Chancellor's declarations and the vagueness of promises and plans has contributed to the atmosphere of uncertainty pervading the country. 

Unwise if not arrogant moves are going to blight the next two years of this government, while improving the prospects of an end to the run of Tory electoral success. Labour is rising to the challenge, but will it succeed in winning overwhelming support for a government which can repair the damage done by this one? We'll see.

I remembered to take the empty veggie bag with me, and walked to the veg bag collection point on my way home to cook the lunch, Finally, I received an email with the text of a eulogy I'm to edit and deliver at tomorrow's funeral. I dealt with it after lunch, then sat down an slept in the chair for over an hour. Then I went to the Co-op to do the week's grocery shopping while Clare went to her Pilates class. 

After supper I worked on next week's Morning Prayer and reflection, until it was time to turn in for the night.

Hidden gem

Another damp day, overcast with occasional showers. Rhiannon had an early train this morning, so Clare went with her on the bus to see her off at the station while I was still asleep. After breakfast I read a couple of chapters of 'Invierno en Madrid'. I'm nearly at the end of this 600 page novel now. It's taken me several years in fits and starts. Meanwhile, Clare cooked a curry for lunch.

Straight after, we drove to Rumney for a hairdressing session with Chris. While he was working on Clare's hair I went for a walk down to Parc Tredelerch (the Welsh name for the Parish of Rumney). It's ten minutes walk away from his salon, the other side of the main railway line. It's an area of partially drained marsh land on the eastern bank of the river Rhymney, which flows down the valley of the same name past a town on the edge of the Brecon Beacons out into the Severn Estuary. 

The park contains Lamby lake which takes twenty minutes to walk around. It's the remnant of an ox-bow lake, cut off from the course of the river a long time ago, and now separated from it by  three metre dyke. It's teeming with fish, home to thousands of birds and surrounded by marsh grass, shrubs and trees. Until twenty years ago the area was a site where waste material could be officially dumped, then it was cleared and landscaped to make a park. I was sorry I didn't take a camera with me. Next time I will. It's amazing I knew nothing of this secluded nature reserve on the fringe of a large suburban housing estate until Chris suggested I walk there.

When we got back I went out for another bereavement visit as things are still unsettled about the funeral I'm doing this Thursday. Unfortunately nobody was at home, so I had to send a text message urging the next of kin to contact me. I rang John, one of the funeral arrangers at Pidgeons, and we discussed what needed to be done, and later exchanged emails, so that at least we know what's going to happen.

An early supper, then a walk to St Catherine's for a Fountain Choir rehearsal. The music is challenging, but even more so is reading and absorbing the Latin text. All good fun, and back in time for the final episode of the darkly comic nasty crime thriller 'Inside Man'. As it was about a well meaning Vicar who loses the plot and ends up responsible for a couple of deaths, even though he doesn't kill the victims, I found it uncomfortable watching.

Mini family reunion

Clare made waffles for breakfast this morning, a Rhiannon favourite. Accidentally she added eggs to a vegan recipe, making them a bit denser, but it meant I couldn't risk eating them without risking my gall bladder acting up. At midday Owain arrived. It was lovely to have the two of them here together with us if only for a few hours.

We walked down to 'Calabrisella' at Canton Cross for an authentic Italian lunch. I had a delicious bowl of spaghetti with assorted vegetables in a tomato sauce, better than anything I could cook myself with the same ingredients, and reasonably priced. An arancino was ordered for everyone to share, except me that is, because it contained some sort of cheese. I was tempted to taste the last morsel left on the dish, one forkful, and it left a really strong taste on my tongue which took an hour or so to go away. Since going dairy free three years ago my plate has changed considerably. My taste buds seem to be more sensitive nowadays to certain flavours that I used to be well accustomed to, especially cheese. In a way it's quite useful as it warns me off foods that would really upset my stomach.

Owain needed to catch a train at half past five, so we went to the bus stop to see him off, and then I went for a walk down to the river. When I stopped to take a picture of an egret, I discovered my Sony HX90 had been damaged from being recently in a coat pocket and taking a hit against the wall when I took it off. The top corner of the casing had broken, and with it the tiny switching mechanism that raises the pop-up viewfinder. I've used the viewfinder more frequently than ever before over the past year as the cataract in my 'camera eye' has worsened. I bought this camera in June 2019 and have taken nearly five thousand photos with it so far. The camera still works, rear screen included, but my eyes don't focus on it easily when I'm not wearing reading glasses, which I'm less likely to carry outdoors. I'm mad with myself for being so careless.

After supper, Clare and Rhiannon went to a movie at the Chapter Arts cinema, and I watched 'Blacklist' on catch-up and 'Inside Man' live. Both were pretty weird and confusing to follow

Family and friends Sunday

After breakfast we walked to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist. Altogether there were about forty adults and fifteen children present, with a dozen of them in the choir. 

After an early snack lunch we drove to the Millennium Centre for the performance of a new work commissioned by WNO called 'Migrations' in 2020, to commemorate the voyage of the Pilgrim Fathers to America. An opera meditating on a theme, that touched upon several different stories, rather than a single story line throughout. We were joined by our friend Chris, as we had a spare ticket, since Owain forgot we had invited him to come with us.

Through a series of operatic 'vignettes', for want of a better word, it presented the stories of other migrants. A black slave from the Caribbean brought to Bristol in the 18th century, a group of Cree Native Americans whose lands had been invaded by oil companies. a group of Indian doctors recruited to work in Britain in the 1960s, a diverse group of language learners in an English class, and most engagingly a flock of birds, represented a a dozen or more children singing and dancing superbly. 

The WNO chorus was on stage all through the two hour performance with a major singing role alongside individual soloists. Altogether a hundred people on stage. The libretto was sparse but powerful and the music emotionally rich and filmic, much like the Janacek we saw recently. 

After we said farewell to Chris, we stayed down the Bay for a while, enjoying a stroll in the evening sun, and then went to the station to meet Rhiannon from the train, coming to stay with us for a couple of nights. Last time she came she was unwell throughout, so it was lovely to have her with us for a catch-up. Since then she's been to Sta Pola with a couple of mates without her parents, and with her parents for a package holiday in Sorrento. She's now started working as a movie extra, introduced by Kath, who's been doing it for years. It's possible she may spend her gap year earning a living like this. It's well paid, if you're lucky enough to get hired, and she enjoys the social experience behind the actual performance she's required to be part of. She told us that she's going to training sessions for extras that involves fight simulation among other things, including basic stunt work. She said she's missed the Physical Theatre element of the drama course she's done in Stratford over the past two years, since finishing the course.

As we were about to eat supper, Rachel and Jasmine rang up, and the five of us joined in a video call. It's the first time in a couple of years since the two cousins were able to meet, albeit on-line. A fortunate stroke of luck for us. We watched telly for an hour and then turned in for the night.

Dyffryn Scaffolded

After our usual Saturday pancake breakfast, we drove to Dyffryn House, our first visit since January this year. The entire house is covered with scaffolding at the moment, renovation work on the limestone facade of the building is under way, essential for long term conservation. Even so, the cafe was open and we had lunch there before walking around the grounds, noting the changes that have taken place over the past nine months. Some of the trees have changed colour, but most are still green and haven't lost many of their leaves yet.There was a light rain shower as we arrived, but it didn't last long, and there was no more rain for the rest of the afternoon. You can see the pictures I took here

After we returned, I went to the shops for some wine and cheese, as we're expecting both Rhiannon and Owain to visit in the next couple of days. Clare had a siesta, then baked a chocolate cake. In the evening I watched a travelogue about Tuscany and then two episodes of 'KaDeWe' on BBC Four, continuing to tell in detail the development of a rich girl - poor girl lesbian relationship against the backdrop of the Nazi rise to power. There was less soft porn obstructing the narrative flow this week. The portrayal of unstoppable monetary inflation and its impact during the Weimar republic is particularly striking, likewise the treatment of homosexuality as a form of mental illness. It's taken a century since for this view to be retained by only a minority of people. As for inflation, it's back with us. Controlling it is now a major issue issue, and political opinion deeply divided about the right way of doing this.

With no service to take tomorrow for the first time in a while, I've had no Sunday sermon to prepare. It seems rather strange, to be able to relax and look forward to a Sunday in the pew for a change. Tomorrow afternoon, an opera matinée!