The demise of High Street banking

Overcast, but no wind or rain today.  I attended the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. There were ten of us celebrating Saint Andrew's Day. After coffee and a chat with the others in the hall, I went and collected the week's veggie bag, and headed home for lunch.

This week's prayer texts arrived from Ruth, and after eating, I set to and prepared my Thursday script and wrote a reflection to accompany it. The, I went into town afterwards to bank a cheque. It's bad news that HSBC is to close another hundred branches next year, having already whittled Cardiff down to two. The high street banks have enthused the majority of clients into banking on-line, and the use of cash has greatly declined since covid against the rise of tap and pay bank card.

This has happen with the growth of digital demand pushed by government and business alike, without adequate thought for those who can't or won't use on-line resources, and no apparent concern for the potential for the entire global banking system fall apart due to catastrophic failure of the internet. The tech geniuses think they have robust resilience built into all their systems, but there are still unknown unknowns, like the impact of colossal solar flares internet if not nuclear wars. The worst thing is that banking becomes more and more impersonal and remote, and individuals continue to be vulnerable to internet fraud.

Having said that, I was using my HSBC account this afternoon to make a donation to Andrews eye hospital work at Mulanje Mission Hospital in Malawi, (it has an interesting website) and found the HSBC transaction verification procedure has added another security layer. In addition to the now commonplace One Time Passcode one now has to repeat the email address used for the transaction, which the bank holds on record, just in case your card or/or mobile has been stolen. The thief is unlikely to have the appropriate email address. That's as good as it can be for now, I guess. 

With the weather now decidedly colder I started to think about buying a new padded winter coat on my way back from the bank. On impulse, as I was passing the Mountain Warehouse shop in Castle Street, I went in to see what I could find on the Black Friday bargain rail. To my surprise I found the Nordic style calf length coat I'd despaired of ever finding, with a faux-wool lining and hood. Just the job for really cold wet weather. At last! And a third of its original price.

Nothing of interest again on live telly tonight so I watched a couple of episodes of a series I've not heard of before called 'London Kills' a police procedural series of 20 episodes dating from 2019 about a Met murder squad. Forty-five minute episodes, to a upbeat sound track, with the usual sort of plot, and formulaic introductory scenes of a corpse discovered, and yet another side story about a senior detective whose wife has gone missing. Oh yeah, really?

Hairdo

I sent a WhatsApp bon voyage message to Andrew after waking up this morning, as today he's starting the long journey to Malawi and the eye clinic he's helping to establish there. After breakfast, Clare's study group met at our  house, and I confined myself to the bedroom, writing a sermon for next Sunday. By the time I came downstairs again after they'd left, lunch was already cooked and on the table. We had a large fillet of Red Fish, which neither of us recall eating before, succulent and tasty, a bit like cod.

After lunch I went for a brisk walk around Llandaff Fields for an hour while Clare siesta'd, then we drove over to Rumney for a hairdressing session with Chris at his salon. While Clare was in the chair, I went for a walk around the lake at Parc Tredelerch as I did last time but today with my Sony HX90. It was misty and overcast, already seeming to be quite dark an hour before sunset. I snapped a big old heron on watch at the edge of a bank of reeds, some swans, coots and tufted ducks in the middle of the lake, plus a large number of assorted gulls resting on the water. Another brisk but rewarding walk before having my long but ragged hair trimmed to perfection. 

Although traffic was heavy on the return trip, it ran slowly without holdups, so we arrived home for an early supper, as Clare was then going out to her weekly meditation group. I couldn't bear to watch Wales versus England football at the World Cup, as their wins against England have been few and far between over the years, and as anticipated they were thrashed. There was nothing else of much interest on telly. Instead, I archived archived videos I've made from my computer to a backup hard drive.

Then I watched a full length movie reprise of the spy thriller 'Spooks' from  2015 on iPlayer entitled 'The Greater Good'. Fast paced and full of violence, it was in contrast to the Le Carre book I finished this afternoon, called 'Running Agents in the Field' which proceeded in a leisurely anecdotal way over the few days in which it was set, with only the odd threat or promise of violence and some brilliant intriguing dialogue masking the real intent of the agents throughout, albeit a little harder to follow.

Bedazzled

After breakfast, a short stint of duty housework, then a ride to Thornhill for today's funeral with just six of us present, neighbours and me, as there were no next of kin. Before I arrived the crem's on-line digital music system had crashed, and only just recovered. Music for the first service of the day had to be played on from a phone into the minister's microphone instead, but all was well again by the time it was my turn.

I got back at noon and wrote a lengthy response to an email I'd received, which took me an hour, so Clare and I had to work speedily together to deliver the meal we both needed. It was on the table by just after half past one. Despite a good night's sleep, I felt very tired and slept for the best part of an hour, so the sun was setting by the time I went out for a walk and it soon got dark, leaving my having to contend with the dazzling lights of commuting cyclists on my way back. A good reason to walk in the park sooner rather than later in the day at this time of year. 

The new generation of LED lights emit high intensity light, which is good to light one's way, but distressing to the eyes of those who are out walking in the dark, relying on the natural ability of the eyes to adjust adequately to low light levels. The idea of having lights that dip out of concern for other road users seems to have no place in the mindset of night time cycling commuters.

After supper I completed this week's Morning Prayer video and uploaded to YouTube. After more than two days switched on and in use, the new Moto phone needed recharging. That's pretty good battery life. I also took a few photos with it, and was quite impressed by the result. I'm not sure it could replace a proper pocket camera however.

I watched another confusing episode of 'The Blacklist' complete with mumbled dialogue, and spent quite a bit of time with DuoLingo doing new exercises as well.

Blessing for a journey

I felt sad not to have a service to take this morning, so I cheered myself up by going over to St German's and enjoyed being part of the congregation of thirty there. I feel just as welcomed when I join them in worship as when I do have a service to take. We have a lot of history together over the past decade of upheaval in the church. If we lived the other side of Cardiff, I'd be there every Sunday and weekdays too. Fr Richard Lowndes celebrated. He was one of the curates of St German's back thirty years ago, and is now retired. It was good to listen him, in the pulpit and at the altar.

Much to my surprise and delight, my eye surgeon Andrew was among the congregation, visiting one last time before going to Malawi for five months, where he's helping to develop a new eye hospital. It's fraught with difficulties as equipment arrives and isn't always ready to use. Parts go missing or are broken needing specialist attention, which can even mean that it has to be accompanied to the manufacturer on its return journey. He asked if he could receive a blessing on his endeavours, so after the service, Fr Richard and I prayed and laid hands on him at the high altar. I felt much blessed by being able to touch base with him as he prepares to leave this coming Tuesday.

By the time I left church after a cup of coffee it was already one o'clock and there was a long slow moving queue of traffic to the city centre. Clare had texted me, asking if I could buy a pack of printer ink at Tesco extra on my way back, which I did. It took me nearly forty minutes to get there, twice the usual journey time, so it was two by the time I reached home.

I went for a walk in the park as Choral Evensong was broadcast live St John's College Cambridge with an excellent selection of readings and music. An hour after I returned home we were out of the house together for the St Catherine's Advent Carol service, as Clare was reading a lesson. It had the same basic structure but with quite a different selection of music, so it wasn't really vain repetition.

After supper I prepared and printed off the eulogy and prayers for tomorrow morning's funeral, and then read more of the John Le Carré before turning in for the night.

Rehearsing in Llanilltud Fawr

Rain all day of varying intensity right into the evening. After breakfast we drove to Llantwit Major for a full rehearsal of the Fountain Choir concert we're going a week next Sunday, ten pieces of varying levels of difficulty, plus discussion of stage layout and acoustics and hospitality arrangements. Anna recruited a church member to look after ticketing and welcome arrangements. The programme should last about an hour. I'm still not utterly confident of myself, with so much Latin text and phrasing which challenges the habitual sense of rhythm, as it's early medieval music and some of the tunes are definitely dance measures. A lot more work to do then, in the next two weeks.

It was lovely to meet up with Father Edwin the Ministry Area Leader, for the first time since he preached at a funeral I attended in St German's a few years back. Having had a good long stint as a country Vicar, doubling up as Diocesan Director of Education, he's now pastor in chief of St Illtud's Parish Church, one of Wales' foundational sites, dating from the sixth century when Illtud established a monastery there which trained pastors for evangelising wherever they went within the travel reach of Celtic Christianity, in effect most of the western Atlantic seaboard Galicia, Britanny, Galway the Western Isles, if not beyond. He loved his involvement in schooling, and his eyes shine brightly with enthusiasm for the emerging potential of his remarkable everyday workplace. He's much loved.

Inevitably, with the retirement of Bishop June this week, the subject of electing her successor came up. He's one of the two electors I have known for many years. I made my pitch for choosing a candidate who is of the Church in Wales with a deep knowledge of our tradition and culture, both sacred and secular, not another import from the Established Church the other side of Offa's Dyke. The difference is an asset to be celebrated, and we're not short of people for the role in this time and place, women and men. In fact Edwin would himself be a suitable candidate, well known with a credible track record. But could he bear to part company with Llantwit, any more than Llantwit could bear to part company with him?

After the rehearsal five of us chatted over lunch together at the Two Swans pub, to far from the church. One Italian, two German and two Welsh, discussing the terms in respective languages for different coffee brews, after a remark about the appearance of lengthy coffee menus in some coffee shops in recent years. Well, the variety has always been there, but its systematisation in coffee bar menus is a phenomenon of the age we live in.

When we reached home there was nowhere to park the car in our street or in the wider neighbourhood. I ended up parking the other side of Thompson's Park with a ten minute walk in the rain back to the house. Any Saturday in the rugby international season the city is invaded by thousands of extra cars carrying fans and shoppers who would rather than than use the city's park and ride facilities use any space they can find in outlying residential areas. If you go out by car for a few hours shopping, you can expect to lose your space for the rest of the day, if not the weekend.

It continued to rain unrelentingly until late evening again, but I was determined to get some exercise, rain notwithstanding. I walked to Tesco's to get wine for the weekend, and then walked in Llandaff Fields for an hour. This required a change of rain gear, one lot sodden by the short walk to Tesco's, so on my second outing I used the free brolly received when I bought my latest pair of Ecco shoes. I've yet to find time to wear them indoors to find out if they fit as well as I thought they did in the shop.

After supper, I extracted the SIM and SD cards from my Blackberry and installed them in the new Moto phone. Both worked without issue. All that needed to be done was find my habitual ringtone and deploy it in the new phone to avoid any confusion at the moment of receiving a new call. I took me a while to work out how. Now Moto has replaced Blackberry and given me a fresh Android user interface which works well for me.

One surprise, on re-installing Duo Lingo on my new phone was a complete overhaul of the user interface, demanding that a rather lazy routine user like me face the challenge of learning new stuff and paying more attention rather than just going over new stuff. Now I know the big learning algorithm has been tracking me and found me out. It's rather fun, this kind of digital prod, especially as I ready myself for a spell of work in Fuengirola where I'll be able to get involved with the ecumenical social outreach work of Lux Mundi, some that that would be been unimaginable when I was last there eight years ago. Amazingly all things work together for good.

Hopes hyped for what?

After rising late and a late breakfast, I recorded and edited the audio for next Thursday's Morning Prayer. That was about all I managed to do. It was then time to cook lunch. I went into town afterwards, looking for a bargain. The streets were full of loud inebriated soccer fans commiserating with each other about the Iranians beating Wales in this morning's World Cup match. All that remains is the match against England, which they're not expected to win. All those hopes and dreams inflated beyond common sense, and then the crushing sense of disappointment. Is this really any good for people's mental health?

I've been minded to buy a replacement for my Blackberry for some time. I've had it for four years its case is cracked and chipped, and it doesn't have the capacity or a decent camera of the kind that's commonplace nowadays. I had my eye on the Moto G series, and was pleased to find a G22 at thirty pounds less than the price I paid for my old Samsung five years ago. It's got twice the memory of the Blackberry and may be four times as powerful, such is the development of smartphones.

It was easy to set up and to transfer all the data from my Blackberry. All that remains is to transfer the SIM and memory card, which I'll leave until tomorrow, when we return from choir rehearsal in Llantwit Major. After supper I watched another episode of 'Astrid and Rafaelle' is the detective series is called in France and after exploring my new phone-to-be, called it a day.

Local housing developments

Cold with sunshine and showers today. I woke up late and posted my WhatsApp link to Morning Prayer at eight thirty before making breakfast. On my way to the Eucharist at St John's I bought stuff for this week's foodbank donation to take with me to church. The service with seven of us took place in the intimacy of the Lady Chapel, which is more appropriate for a small number. We chatted over coffee afterwards, and when I got home, Clare was already cooking a lentil curry for lunch. 

A few weeks ago furniture arrived at the house next door. Doll's house furniture, one of the neighbours said, all smaller sized items to convey the illusion of the house being larger than it is for the vendor's  photographer benefit. That's all been removed now. I wonder if someone will move in soon?  Renovation and sale ostensibly were completed three months ago. The place has been empty for over a year, awful in this time of housing shortage. Renovated houses in our street are selling now for prices 50% higher than the £250k of ten years ago. And these used to be regarded as affordable first time buyers homes, but are caught up in the continuing gentrification spiral. 

There's a large detached house with annexe at the junction of Romilly and Llandaff Roads which has been empty for several more years since tenants were evicted. No work has been done on it. Whether it'll be renovated or demolished I don't know. I guess there may be a lengthy planning procedure to be undertaken by any developer with an eye on such a prime site. It took long enough for the old laundry building and site on Llandaff Road to be redeveloped. The houses are finished now and being occupied. There are two new retail units fronting the street, one is being taken up with a bakery and cafe by Alex Gooch, artisanal baker with a prestigious reputation. That's a real coup for the site owners, and for the neighbourhood.

Next door to Tesco Metro at Canton Cross, there was an electronics and white goods store, started in the 1940s called 'Radiocraft'. It closed its doors in 2020 due the the pandemic and went over to on-line sales only before relocating to Penarth. October last, the building was demolished, after an announcement last year that a block of flats with ground floor retail space would take its place. A similar announcement was made about the old GPO sorting office site up the far end of Cowbridge Road West. It's good news in response to the chronic shortage of affordable housing, as both these site are to be developed by a housing association.

On my afternoon walk I bought some fruit and flowers and took them home. Clare was in the middle of an on-line Jazz lesson, so I slipped out and walked in the park for three quarters of an hour. It was good to go out and get back home again before the sun hit the horizon. I don't often get to do that at the moment, I find it difficult to adjust the timing of my routine. 

Before and after supper, I wrote the eulogy for next Monday's funeral, then we watched the final of Young Jazz Musician of the Year on BBC Four. Some great young musicians, in their teens and twenties but sounding so mature and accomplished. The future of Jazz is in good hands! Then, I finished the day by reading more of the latest John Le Carré novel, and went to bed too late again.

Everyday kindness

A return to rain and blustery winds today with the occasional ray of sun, and even claps of thunder later in the day. I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning, so that Mother Frances could be free to spend time at the Bishop of Llandaff School after taking their morning service. There were just seven of us today, and some of us lingered in the hall and chatted afterwards. I had to go home and fetch the veggie bad before going to collect our weekly order. Fish pie was on the table for lunch by the time I got back.

My post op eye test was cancelled as optometrist Ceri was off sick. I'm rebooked for the first of December. At least it meant I didn't have to make my way to Cathays by bus and on foot in changeable weather and could relax a bit before walking to the other end of the Parish on a bereavement visit. A local café owner and his wife had been taking care of an elderly single man who visited them every day over years for his daily meal, and even more so when he became vulnerable and housebound. Everyday hospitality overflowing into kindness and compassion and now they're laying him to rest in the absence of any next of kin. 

He died in the house he was born in, something I've heard about before in this part of Cardiff, but quite rare in the shifting sands of modern life. The deceased was a music lover with a collection of 800 classical CDs. My suggestion about choosing music for his funeral was based on a sample selection taken from recently used pile brought back for discussion, but the choice was left to me. A few titles seemed suitable, and having noted them, I checked them out on YouTube before emailing Pidgeon's with the information.

After supper, with not much of interest worth watching on telly, I launched into reading a very recent John Le Carré spy novel left behind by Sister in Law Ann earlier this year. Recent in that Brexit and Trump get mentioned. That's pretty up to date

Usefully busy

I emerged from a good night's sleep to the return of sunny weather this morning. After breakfast I phoned the neighbour who is acting as executor for a man with no next of kin, whose funeral I am doing next Monday, and arranged to visit him tomorrow afternoon, following my post op optometrist visit.

Then set about making this week's prayer video, only to discover that the Photos app I'd been using had been removed by Windows 11 and replaced by Clipchamp, much more complex, and maybe find if you are stitching videos together, but not if you're just doing a slide show  with audio. A Clipchamp pop-up note said I could download the old Photos app, now rebranded as Photos Legacy. A ridiculous and annoying waste of time aiming to impose on you something you don't need and wate time seeking out the thing you do need. Ah well, I finished the job, and then moved on to digital task number two.

The Church of England Pensions Board, as mentioned previously, is going paperless next year, unless you make a special appeal against this. Well, I decided to try out their sign up system first, and followed the instructions in the letter, which included a registration code. The one given me looked odd and initially I couldn't figure out why. I entered all my details plus the code, and I got an error message in response. The code was in square brackets, I tried with and without the brackets. Nothing. 

It occurred to me this was not my personal code, but a tiny piece of mail merge programming language. I called the helpline and found I was one of many whose batch mailing had failed to deliver a personal number. A week of apologies to every caller for the help desk clerk. What a nightmare! Another properly error checked letter would soon arrive, but the registration code was also printed on a document notifying me of a pension increase which was mailed out last February. I retrieved it from my almost orderly pension file folder, and successfully used it to register my new on-line CofE pension account. I must get around to doing the CinW equivalent. I think we have one, but I haven't bothered yet, as we still get paper documents - running behind the CofE.

Quite a good experience in the end really. There was almost no helpline queue, and I spoke to a kind lady, rather than a robot pretending to be human and failing the voice test.

After a busy morning, I lost track of time and had not long started to cook lunch when Clare returned from her study group. Fortunately the meal didn't take long to make so we were eating by half past one. Then Ruth's weekly email with the Morning Prayer texts arrived. When I checked the scripture passage for my Thursday offering, from Revelation 21, I noticed something I'd not registered before, and it gave me an idea for writing a reflection on it. In just under an hour it was written and recorded, which was satisfying. Then I went out and did the weekly grocery shopping at the Co-op, and walked until it was dark.

We had a Fountain Choir rehearsal in St Catherine's at six thirty, so we set out early to arrange chairs of the seven of us who were able to attend. It got very cold in church as we had no heating so it was rather a struggle to get through, especially as the ancient Latin music we're singing is both unusual and hard to remember. I'm out of my depth really. It was great to return home to a warm house, even though the heating at home had been switched off three hours earlier.

A little more preparatory work on a Lent Course for St Andrew's Fuengirola before turning in early. My ankle has been giving me extra trouble today, perhaps because the ambient temperature has dropped to the level that's normal for this time of year, even if it's happening much later than usual.

Football crazy

Mondays seem to come around quickly. Housework after breakfast, then finishing the last few chapters of Patricia Cornwall's 'Book of the Dead'. Her stories are always padded out with detailed descriptions that set the scene and mood, but also scientific or technical minutiae, often difficult to make sense of, if you know nothing about flying a helicopter or using an electron microscope or MRI scanner. What's the point? 

I was, however interested in her portrayal of a powerful psychiatrist with a popular TV show, a dark dirty secret in her past and skill at manipulating clients and interviewees into believing they are sicker than they realise, a lost cause -  what I think is called 'gaslighting' in current jargon. This was written fifteen years ago, and the misuse of mass media inferred in the storyline is so reminiscent of the plague of 'fake news' and psychological warfare tactics characteristic of our time.

Clare cooked a tofu stir fry for lunch. Afterwards, I went into town to look for bargains, but didn't find any of interest. There were noisy groups of excited young men in the street, high on the prospect of World Cup football matches for Wales and England today, or drunk in anticipation. I did some shopping in Tesco's on my way home for Sunflower and Olive oil. The Coop hasn't been stocking sunflower oil lately. It may be that its supply chain is broken due to the war on Ukraine.

I worked on this Thursday's Morning Prayer reflection after supper, and recorded it later, after watching another ridiculous episode of Blacklist on catch-up, avoiding the news, dominated all day by World Cup football. Too much football. Although I was tempted to glimpse the results on Twitter. Oddly the Parish Daily Prayer WhatsApp group has been full of exchanges about tonight's Wales v USA game all day, but these exchanges stopped when the match ended, without any prayer of gratitude being offered for a score draw.

Scarf and gloves day

As expected, yesterday's spell of physical labour left me feeling quite stiff and tired. It was an effort to get to St Catherine's on time for the Parish Eucharist, but we made it OK. In Conway Road a large lorry and street clean-up team were at work collecting leaves heaped into piles by neighbours along the 400 yards of of tree lined street, working around parked cars. This is one of our local leafy avenues that needs clearing several times in the autumn, when heavy rains lead to blocked drains and waterlogged gutters for weeks on end. There aren't so many trees in our neighbourhood, so I don't think we were visited by the clean up team. Last autumn, a few north easterly gale force winds drown tons of leaves from Llandaff Fields right down Llanfair Road and on some sections of pavement they were knee high. Not so thus far this year.

After lunch I slept for an hour and a half waking up in time for Choral Evensong from Westminster Abbey. I listened to this in headphones with my Blackberry walking around Llandaff Fields for an hour. It was noticeably colder. It's the first time I felt I needed to wear scarf and gloves this autumn, but I hadn't given it a second thought when leaving the house. The wind was strong enough on times to impair the sound quality as I listened. The earphones are good enough for normal domestic use, but not it seems capable of reducing much background noise outdoors.

It was good to listen to the Westminster Abbey choir, however. The place is well rigged for making high quality sound recordings and the choir sings Anglican chant with amazingly clear diction, which takes full advantage of the fact. The highlight for me was the first performance of a new setting of the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis written for the Abbey by Errolyn Wallen a distinguished composer from Belize, currently Artist in residence at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. Two contrasting emotionally powerful pieces of music which capture the mysteriously wonderful character of the text.

I was back home by the end of Evensong, to collect my cassock surplice and stole to go to St John's and take part in a memorial service for bereaved families, held now in many church during November. Only ten people invited from about a hundred sent out. Mourning seems to have become more of a private individual affair these days. With families gathering for a funeral and then dispersing, there's less of an incentive to returning to a place where there has been as much if not more grief experienced than there was consolation offered. People set up memorial websites and share their feelings on social networks from the comfort of their home, rather than don scarf and gloves to venture out on a cold dark night.

The service was themed around the Ecclesiastes text 'to everything there is a season' - fair enough, but to my mind not enough. Nothing about the mystery of Christ's resurrection or eternity or communion. As St Paul wrote "If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied."  I was in charge of reading the names of the departed and offering the prayers on the service sheet. At least it gave me an opportunity to remember my cousin Godfrey. Only after did my misgiving emerge. I should have read the text through weeks ago when I first received it, but didn't.

There was nothing interesting enough to watch on telly, so I spent another evening reading the novel I started yesterday, and went to bed later than intended with a few more chapters to finish. It's got so complicated I'm not sure I gather where it's leading. Not enough to be worth burn the midnight oil to finish anyway.

DIY street cleaning

After breakfast, I went out with sweeping brush and spade to clear some of the accumulated leaves, twigs and soil clogging up the gutters and making the drop kerb at the end of the street filthy and treacherous for pedestrians and wheelchair users. There's been a message about this on our local WhatsApp neighbours group recently. 

The city Council, short of resources, is encouraging people to clear the gutters near their homes and leave the detritus in piles where it can easily be collected by a lorry. The road sweeping machines are not much use at clearing streets when they are full of parked cars most of the time. I worked for an hour or so on the worst side of the street and left the other side to the promises of others. It was vigorous exercise. I expect to be stiff and aching tomorrow as a result.

I received a letter in the mail from the Church of England Pensions Board, notifying me of their switch to digital communications entirely from next year. No more paper documents, not even the annual P60 for tax purposes. Now I have to open yet another on-line account to access all information about my pension, although I believe it is possible to plead for an exception. I happen to be digitally literate, but what about all those older people who aren't? My knowledge of the digital world leads me to believe that it's utterly foolish to place total trust in electronic communication, especially when it comes to one's personal finances. There's no system that's not hackable, no system that doesn't break down, and many systems that make fools of users by forcing changes people can't understand and in language that makes not sense to them. There may be trouble ahead ....

We went to St Catherine's Christmas Fayre after lunch, looked around and chatted with people. I bought a paperback of a Patricia Cornwell novel I'd not seen before, although it's been out for some time. I started to read it after supper and continued reading until very late. It's a long time since I could read for so long without getting tired eyes. An unexpected bonus of last month's cataract op! 

Avian delights in Oxwich

Before being consumed by sleep last night I finally finished reading all six hundred plus pages of 'Invierno en Madrid'. It's been my bedside companion over the past three years, but only taken up and read in fits and starts. The last twenty pages delivered a shocking tragic end, in the best tradition of spy novels and throught it I've learned a bit more about the Spanish Civil War and the early years of the Franco régime. No wonder some of the deep wounds and divisions of that era remain unhealed.

Another good night's sleep for both of us, waking up to a colder but sunny day, more like November fine weather days we hope for but don't always get.  After another substantial cooked breakfast, we packed our bags and loaded the car, then handed in our key cards and walked to the lakeside hide, to see what birds we could see. 

It was quiet, with just a family of mallards and a couple of single drakes roosting in the reeds, a moorhen, glimpse of a teal, and a pair of buzzards riding the thermals, out hunting. We caught sight of one of them high up in a tree, a quarter of a mile away. A chance long range photo confirmed the sighting, although the image was tiny and not sharp, but satisfying nonetheless.

Then we walked on the coast path track across the nature reserve, through the sand dunes to reach the sea, and walked along the beach to return to the hotel for lunch. As we came out of the dunes a flock of twenty Dunlin descended out of the blue and stopped within a couple of metres of us for just a few seconds before taking to the air again. In the air before they landed they resembled a small round dark cloud, or a swarm of bees as they moved. An astonishing fleeting sight. 

A few minutes later we saw them  occupying a patch of wet sand from which the tide had just receded. As we moved down the shore the flock followed us, foraging as it went. A couple of the birds flew on ahead to feed like, they were a reconnaissance party, I thought. Why they should separate themselves from the safety of the group is a mystery to me however.

We both ordered three bean chili and rice for lunch and relaxed for a while before leaving. I took a short walk up the St Illtud's church to take some photos, then we left for home a four, calling at the Coop in Bishopston to do some weekend shopping before joining the commuter queue around Swansea Bay and on to the Motorway. 

From Oxwich to the east side of Swansea Bay is twenty miles, and with the stop to shop took us an hour, and then another hour to travel the thirty five miles home from there. By the time we left the supermarket the sun had set. I'd forgotten just how early it sets at this time of year. We could have set off earlier and travelled home in daylight, but Oxwich Bay is so lovely it's hard quit when the weather is fine and the light is good. That was our third stay in the Gower this year!

I was delighted and grateful to find a free parking space in the street right outside our house, as nearly all the rest were taken.. We unpacked, Clare made a veggie soup for supper, I uploaded my photos of the day, and then watched another intriguing episode of  Walter Presents latest French crimmie Astrid and Rafaelle before turning in for the night.

Slightly lost on the Coast Path

After a refreshing night's sleep, I posted today's morning prayer link to WhatsApp at seven, then listened to the news before walked the short distance to the hotel for a delicious cooked breakfast at half past eight.

Then we pulled on our hiking boots and set out along the beach for Three Cliffs Bay. When we reached the river flowing out of the nature reserve at the far end of Oxwich beach we were surprised to see that it had changed course. Instead of running straight into the sea, it's created a big S-bend in the sand. 

The first of the two bridges upstream was washed off its foundations by a strong tide last winter I think, but it looks as if it's been washed a bit further upstream since then. It's constructed of a steel framework with strong wooden decking. Although heavy, a strong tidal surge when river level is high would be strong enough to lift and shift it. 

On the other hand, the river water, reduced to a slow trickle in time of drought, when most of the sandy riverbed dries out and tides don't come in as far as the bridge, would make its own way to the sea across the surface along a line of least resistance, not straight, but S-shaped. I recall hearing about this in school geography classes sixty five years ago, but this is one of the few instances since then, that I've seen this combination of natural forces at work in the real world.

We followed the coast path from the bridge, running between the lower edge of Nicholaston Woods and the sand dunes. After a while it begins to climb up steeply to the ridge and the coast path signage became rather misleading. We climbed up too high and reached a farm unexpectedly. We couldn't work out where the coast path ran, as we'd taken a wrong turning. We retraced out steps, found the signed path again, but after a spell of walking uphill, walking down again took its toll on our leg joints, so we turned back, about a mile from our destination. Next time we'll just trek along the shore line as far as we can before going up and over the ridge above Three Cliffs Bay. By the time we reached Ivy Cottage, footsore and tired, we had been walking for over four hours, and done seven miles, including diversions. 

The tide was by this time on its way out, and I got a few photos of Dunlin feeding at close range along the line of the last tiny breaking wave, plus one in flight, I was well pleased with. We also glimpsed a couple of buzzards riding the thermals above Nicholaston cliffs, but just for a moment, disappearing too quickly to switch on the camera. It's just great to know they are still there during the avian 'flu epidemic.

We opted to have supper at tea-time, as we'd just had fruit and a hot drink while out walking. We both had fish and chips, which went down well after such strenuous exercise. After Clare's nightly injection ritual at the hotel again, early bed, hoping for another long walk after breakfast and vacating our room tomorrow morning, weather permitting. Then we return to Cardiff after lunch before it gets dark and life returns to normal. I wish we lived nearer!

Oxwich yet again

Woke up at seven, interested in hearing the morning reports on the missile strike on the Polish side of the border with Ukraine. US and NATO intelligence are saying it's not a missile sent by Russia, but one of the Ukrainian anti-aircraft versions of the same Russian weapon gone off course and crashing the wrong side of the border. President Zelensky is denying this, pointing to the hundreds of missiles targeting civilian targets and energy infrastructure, declaring that the Russians have engineered this incident to look like an Ukrainian 'own goal' strike. A forensic investigation of the incident will reveal whether or not he was wise to speak out so quickly on this occasion.

I drove up to St Peter's Fairwater after breakfast to celebrate the Eucharist with two dozen faithful, and join their coffee morning afterwards. They are raising funds to support a project that works with street children in Colombia, founded by a Welsh priest who started as an Anglican and then became a Roman Catholic. Before he was ordained, he was travelling through Latin America, and lost all his possessions to thieves while staying at an hotel in Medellin. With no means of paying he was ejected by hotel staff which refused to help him. He was looked after and helped by some of the street kids of the barrio to contact his family and the consulate to arrange repatriation and never forgot this. Once he was established in ministry he started fundraising and moved to Colombia to start this remarkable work of giving youngsters a chance at life. An amazing story.

As soon as I got home, we packed the car, refuelled it at the big Tesco and then set off for the Gower. We stopped on the outskirts of Mumbles to have a picnic lunch in a car park just behind the beach. Along the bay shoreline is a metalled cycle track linking Swansea with Mumbles. This track was occupied by the Mumbles tramway until 1960. It had the distinction of being the world's first passenger carrying railway, with horse drawn vehicles running from 1807 onwards. In the summer a tourist road-train runs between Swansea and Mumbles on this track. What a difference it would make to congested roads if commuters and shoppers had an electric tram to ride on all year round today.

We reached the Oxwich Bay hotel just after three, checked in and were given key cards to our room in 'Ivy Cottage' five hundred yards up the road from the hotel, a nineteenth century stone building that had been gutted and transformed into six guest rooms with en suite bathrooms. The internal furnishings, stairway and doors were all made of light oak to a very high standard of carpentry. A very pleasant environment in which to spend a couple of nights.

We deposited our bags and went out immediately for a walk up the beach in the last hour of daylight under an overcast sky. Thankfully it didn't rain while we were out although there was intermittent rain through the day and into the evening. The tide was on its way out and we saw several family groups of Dunlin feeding and running through the surf. There were Oystercatchers out there in the distance as well, and we could hear their cry, even though they were hard to spot in fading light. Such sights and sounds make the whole trip worthwhile, even if it were to rain for the rest of our time there.

We had supper in the hotel - veggie lasagne for Clare and vegan three bean chilli stew for me, plus a date and pecan cake with ice cream to follow. Clare went back to Ivy Cottage after the meal and I went for a walk in the dark to the other end of the village. There are no street lights at all now, so as it was overcast and hard to see, I had to be careful. I walked for half an hour and only saw a couple of cars at a distance. It's a familiar place, and I've walked here before in the dark, sometimes under the full moon.

I returned to Ivy Cottage, and an hour later went out with Clare to the hotel to retrieve her medication for injection from the fridge. The night manager agreed to let her do the injection in the hotel lounge with all the doors and curtains shut, rather than traipsing back to our room to do it, and then back again to return the medication to the fridge. He was ever so good about it. All the young staff here are delightful and most helpful.

Then finally, back to our room to settle down for the night. Our bedroom looks out towards the wooded escarpment behind the bay. I wonder if we'll hear owls tonight? I think they're out there.

By accident or design?

I slept for nine and a half hours last night and woke up refreshed. All thanks to Kay's osteo work on my legs yesterday. There was an email from Pidgeon's confirming a funeral booking for two week's time, and a message from Frances asking me if I'd take tomorrow morning's Eucharist at St Peter's Fairwater. Clare and I then worked through the music we're singing for next month's Early Music concert and she cooked lunch while I uploaded and edited some photos from the past few days. 

For the first time I also made use of Microsoft's Clipchamp Video Editor for a clip taken yesterday of a golden leaved tree by Blackweir Bridge, to find out how easy it would be to learn. I've made slideshows using a few different apps, but relied on old school Movie Maker for years on odd occasions when I needed to edit video, as this could be used without internet. The revised version had too many features to make it worth re-learning how to use it, so I didn't bother with it, found and installed the Windows 7 version on previous devices instead. I've not needed to tinker with video footage in the past few years, so I'm pleased to find something simple and handy for my limited needs.

It rained most of the morning, but had stopped when I went out for a walk after lunch, and looked as if the sky was clearing. Appearances were deceptive however, as more rain clouds swept in from the west. Ten minutes into my walk, the rain started again and didn't stop for more than a hour. It wasn't very heavy so I kept going and just got wet slowly. 

We had an early supper before a choir rehearsal. I thought it was going to be in St Catherine's and I had to open up the church and put the chairs out. But we got the week wrong, it was in the Rectory instead. The choir WhatsApp message board has a great many messages to read in a busy spell, so it's easy to become overwhelmed with excess detail and

I got to church at six, opened up and put some chairs out in a semi-circle for the choir to use. Clare came a little later, then when nobody turned up at six thirty, she rang a choir member and discovered our joint diary error. Then I had to put away the chairs, lock up and then we walked to the Rectory at Victoria Park, and were half an hour late joining the others.

Kim offered us a lift home in her car, as she lives nearby. We were amazed to discover that she runs a classic Morris Minor, in excellent working condition fifty three years old. Brother in Law Eddy ran the estate car version of this when we were all a lot younger, inherited from their father Francis. As David and Anneke grew up and needed more space, he traded it in for an Astra. It's probably forty years since we last rode in any Morris Minor. It's the sight and sound of a bygone era.

We returned home to news of missiles hitting a rural area 8km inside Poland's border with Ukraine. Russia denies it was theirs although the nearby Ukrainian city of Lviv was among the places hit with a hundred missile strikes on energy infrastructure targets today, as has happened daily this week. 

Missile guidance systems rely on satellite navigation, but any missile can malfunction mechanically. It's also possible this was an Ukrainian anti-aircraft missile colliding with a Russian missile. It seems that both sides use the same basic weapon, adapted for different purposes. Only thorough forensic investigation of airspace surveillance records will reveal the truth of the matter.

If it was a Russian missile, this strike could be a random failure, or be aimed at provoking a reaction, since Poland is a NATO member country. Putin could well be testing NATO's willingness to take action  collectively given that 'an attack on one is an attack on all' is a founding principal of the charter. I don't imagine NATO member government defence ministry staff will get much sleep tonight, with a meeting to review the situation tomorrow.

Teatime Gridlock

Another grey Monday morning, with housework to do after breakfast, and then digital housekeeping with new booking dates to add to the calendar, and a clean-up of my Chromebook for optimal efficiency and speed. The trouble with doing this is that you have to re-enter all your Google account sign ins and jump through their security hoops, which is time consuming. So, better to do this when I'm not eager to get on with work.

There were photos in the news of two Banksy stencil graffiti work which have appeared recently on walls of bomb damaged ruins in a town outside Kyiv. One depicts a young gymnast dancing, the other is of a young lad in judo dress throwing a large man wearing a black belt with Putin's face. An amazing political artistic statement, bound to give Ukrainians the encouragement and recognition they need to persist in the costly struggle to liberate their country. President Zelensky visited the newly liberated town of Kherson today for a morale boosting speech and photo opportunity, declaring this victory was the beginning of the end for the Russian invasion. A bold and risky gesture to make considering that the city is within range of front line Russian artillery.

Banksy and his team give such an imaginative prophetic insight into contemporary moral and social concerns, often mocking the art world's obsession with wealth and status. The ancient prophets were poets of the word, using the language of metaphors, conjuring up images to make their point. Banksy and co just use images that speak louder than many words. What a gift to our image conscious era.

We had mussels with cauliflower and rice for lunch, then I went for a walk in the park before driving to Newport for another osteo treatment by Kay. I left in what I thought was good time and drove as far as the junction with Cardiff Road on Penhill. The traffic was heavy but moving, but stopped completely just as I was about to turn right in the middle of the road, with another car in front of me, both of us blocking the traffic flow both ways as a result. There was no alternative but to drive straight on, turn around as soon as I could and rejoin the traffic queue, this time turning left. This way I lost ten minutes, and arrived at Kay's place ten minutes late. 

Traffic congestion locally is getting worse with commuters to and from the centre and the Bay needing to go through Llandaff to get to new suburban housing estates now being occupied on the north west of the city limits. There seems to be no infrastructure improvement plan in place to alleviate the growing traffic problem. Additional rail capacity from Radyr is said to be coming, but this won't meet all requirements for people living several miles from the railways station there.

Anyway, the treatment and conversation with Kay did me good and I was back home in time for supper. I started watching a couple of programmes about Ancient Egypt after we'd eaten, but missed part of the first after falling asleep, relaxed by the treatment. Cue for early bed, I think

From Remembrance to Winterfest

I woke up five minutes before my seven fifteen alarm sounded this morning, and was walking to Saint Catherine's to celebrate the eight o'clock Eucharist with eight others twenty minutes later. Home then for a leisurely breakfast before driving to St German's in good time to start the Solemn Mass of Remembrance Sunday with the two minute silence at eleven. On the way through the city centre a saw several besuited men wearing service medals walking to or from the Castle's Remembrance Poppies field, on their ways to the national cenotaph in Cathays Park behind City Hall. 

It was nearly half past one by the time I reached home afterwards, the road was busy with more traffic than usual I thought. Not because it's Remembrance Sunday, but because many people are already thinking about Christmas shopping and making a start on it. The city centre Christmas market is already under way, bringing extra light and colour to the streets around St John's. A skating rink has been built in the part of the Castle grounds not occupied by the Remembrance Poppies field, a big Ferris wheel has been erected, plus a small artificial ski slope on the lawn in front of City Hall and the Museum. 

I think the official launch of the city centre pre-Christmas 'Winter Wonderland' special activities is next week. This includes a night time walk in the dark through the Bute Park arboretum, decorated with a light show. We noticed yesterday that a large section of the woodland has been cordoned off with fencing, not just for the lighting installation, but also to create a zone you must pay to enter. Last Christmas it was too wet to become a mass attraction. Will it be a success this year, or another failed entertainment project, expensive to arrange, and expensive to go and visit? I wonder.

After lunch, I booked Clare's return journey from Malaga next Easter on the same flight as me. It's taken a fortnight to get around to doing it, so the homebound flight cost three times as much as the outbound. After an exchange of messages with Kath, she has booked flights for Anto, Rhiannon and herself to fly out for Easter weekend, and celebrate my birthday, which is on Easter Tuesday this year. That's a special birthday treat for me, and hopefully for them too. They did the same thing eight years ago when I was last in Fuengirola for Holy Week and Easter.

I don't enjoy booking flights these days as it's more complex, with too many options, and lots of extras pitched at you in the course of purchase, which you have to skip over, insurance, hotel, car hire, extra baggage etc, even though they may be irrelevant to you if you only want a flight. So many extra choices to make whether to take up or avoid. It's like passing through an oriental market and having traders pull at your sleeve or yell or wave things at you, holding you up.  I come away from the flight booking process stressed and tired. With all those distractions comes a greater risk of making mistakes. There has to be a better way, apart from getting someone younger and more savvy to do it for you.

Clare's study group arrive at four. Time for me to go for a walk  and clear my head. An hour and a half in the Thompson's Park as the sun was setting, then half a circuit of Llandaff Fields as dusk arrived was enough to sort me out. After supper, I watched three episodes I hadn't seen of Stanley Tucci's Italian gastro-tourism series, Calabria, Sardinia and Puglia. All very interesting and beautifully filmed, and so many regional dishes, food products, eating experiences portrayed, but not a good idea to binge watch. I felt a bit nauseous by the end, my imagination working overtime with all that 'virtual' tasting. Nothing that a cup of lemon and ginger tea couldn't cure before turning in for the night. 

Early stand-in

After a decent lie-in, a pancake breakfast, but I was still tired from last night so didn't do much until it was time to cook a veggie sauce with pasta for lunch. We walked to Bute Park late afternoon, with a detour first to Canton Cobblers to collect Clare's repaired boots. As usual on a Saturday, grandfather, father and young son work together behind the counter, the lad serving customers very nicely, learning the family trade. We're fortunate still to have small shops of this character providing invaluable local services to the community in our urban village.

It was getting dark by the time we got back. Mother Frances rang to ask if I could help out in church tomorrow. Emma is off sick, I agreed to take the eight o'clock Communion service, only recently restored, to free her to and Rhys to take two services each, three in Canton and one in Fairwater. I'm at St Germans in addition, but will have time for breakfast before I need to leave in good time for the 11.00am Act of Remembrance. 

There were two interesting documentary programmes on BBC Four after supper. One was about finding the ancient Minoan civilisation in Crete by Arthur Evans, whose conjectures about Minoan society were proved by subsequent scholarship to be wide of the mark. It wasn't the eruption of Santorini which wiped out Knossos and Minoan civilisation but its obliteration by Mycenean invaders from the mainland during a period of social and economic vulnerability post-tsunami. Something I hadn't realised before.

The second programme was a documentary about the Arabian peninsula, portraying its wildlife and the indigenous tribes of nomadic Bedouin living in what seems outwardly to be an empty barren land, yet it hosts some creatures exceptionally adapted to living in such harsh conditions. A spectacular contribution to the BBC's portfolio of nature programmes.

Then, an early night, ahead of a seven o'clock start to a busy day.

Night of Remembrance

This morning after breakfast, I took out my formal dress suit and shirt, immaculately preserved, thanks to Clare, ready to wear. I was relieved to find that it all fitted perfectly. I've not had occasion to wear it since November 2019, so this was a relief. It needed the accompaniment of a bow tie, cummerbund and braces, so I had to find them amongst the assortment of socks, a night cap and a yarmulka (ready for my next visit to a synagogue) and inspect them to ensure they were fit for purpose. All was well. 

Then I made a slide video of my twelve best photos since my cataract op, accompanied by 'cello music from Rachel, to send as a thank you to eye surgeon Andrew. Twelve out of the sixty taken since the op!  When I spoke with him yesterday, I didn't realise how many I'd taken in three and a half weeks. It's a third of what I might normally take in that time, but that wasn't what I remembered. It's just wonderful that my sight is now so much better, even with a second eye to get done eventually.

I prepared lunch - leftover split peas for me and prawns for Clare, with rice and veg for us both, but not too much for me with a five course banquet on tonight's horizon. Then I wrote my Remembrance Sunday Sermon for St German's and printed a copy of my table blessing prayer for tonight. 

Then there was time to head for the park to walk for over an hour before dressing up and going for a convenient 61 bus just ahead of the drinks hour before the Mess dinner with top table guests. I met some interesting people, including the first female captain of HMS Cambria, the local naval reserve shore establishment in South East Wales, and her colleague from HMS Dragon, the equivalent establishment in Swansea, who was my table companion. I found out he was an Anglican, well read with an enquiring mind, so our conversation over the meal was unusually interesting. 

On the other side I was seated next to John Wall, who has been Master of Ceremonies for this banquet and a key person in liaising with the Angel Hotel staff for as long as I have been invited, nearly twenty years. Both of us much the same age and conscious of the passage of time. The Mess is now in its 105th year and has survived the decimation of covid, despite an ageing membership, thanks to its dedicated core members. I felt honoured to be invited yet again to share in this unique military social occasion, saying Grace and taking part in the Act of Remembrance. 

When I stood up to say my lengthy table prayer, John couldn't work out how the microphone worked so I had to deliver it in my best stage voice to a room with over two hundred diners. I put heart and soul into delivery and the Amen at the end told me that I'd been heard. Several people afterwards said how they appreciated what they'd heard. I was grateful to think I'd got it right for this special crowd of people including the Lord Mayor of Cardiff (who arrived late) and Lord Lieutenant (who was on time). 

A splendid evening, and I was fortunate enough to catch a 61 bus home without waiting too long. Back home by eleven twenty. Gone are the days when I would go back to the Mess for the after dinner party. No longer do I have the stamina or the digestive system to cope. Late to bed for me, but not that late!

Once a warrior ....

I woke up in time for 'Thought for the Day' and posted today's prayer video link to WhatsApp. By the time I'd caught up with myself it was too late to go to the St John's Eucharist so I retrieved and edited the text for the Grace to say at the United Services Mess dinner tomorrow evening. I started preparing lunch early, then with time in hand, and wanting to be sure what I'd written was appropriate for the resumption of this veterans' dinner, the first since 2019, I caught the bus into town to visit the Mess building and consult Mess chairman Tony Lewis. Once I had his approval, I returned home to continue with lunch. A split pea stew was on the menu. Although it tasted fine, the split peas were undercooked. They would have been better after ten minutes in the pressure cooker. Ah well, we live and learn.

After lunch I listened again to Rachel's new recording, and wrote a few short verses for her to try speaking as a voiceover to accompany the music as an experiment. I wonder what she'll make of this? Then I started preparing next week's Morning Prayer video slideshow before realising I'd not yet recorded and edited the audio file, so I did that before going out for a walk as it was getting dark. After supper I watched the last episode of 'SAS Rogue' heroes. 

A remarkable series about ruthless, determined, anarchic violent cut-throat characters directing all their energies to the strategic aim of defeating the Nazis, no matter what the cost. Although anachronistic, the desert warfare scenes depicted to a high octane punk rock sound track. Appropriate for rogue heroes. The SAS played a pivotal part in sabotaging Rommel's North African campaign, preventing his advance right through southern Europe. Their methods were unconventional, militarily speaking, resembling fast moving guerilla warfare, but better resourced. 

Their leader Major David Stirling was captured and spent the rest of the war on active service as a POW in Colditz Castle, where he was instrumental in four escape attempts from the impregnable Saxon fortress, responsible for gathering intelligence and transmitting it by means of a secret radio. A remarkable patriotic warrior, of what would be considered far right persuasion today. In later life he was architect of a plan to launch a military takeover of the government if Britain's leadership ever fell in into what he thought of as the wrong hands. A minor media furore at the time, changing nothing. He died in 1990. I can't imagine him being anything other than a brexiteer, but how would he have coped with covid, or Boris, I wonder?

Mid term set back

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. There were nine of us present. The church hall was occupied with an open event organised by the Council to offer help and support for people in coping with the on-set of colder weather, perhaps for the first time if they are recently arrived from warmer climes, or having to cope with reduced budgets. It was called 'Winter Well-being'. The church 'Warm Wednesday' initiative provided free hot drinks as usual, and the remaining worship congregation sat around and chatted while people came and went. It wasn't easy to tell how many clients or service providers were there, but it was a good idea and worth repeating. Sometimes news is slow to spread, despite social media.

I collected this week's veggie bag afterwards, and returned in time for lunch cooked by Clare while I was out. Having gone to bed late I had a snooze after lunch before going into town on the bus to buy myself a pack of new underpants. There was so much available to choose from it took me ages. I also bought some packs of Christmas cards, to get me thinking early about our end of year mail-out. Time seems to pass so quickly these days I have to start everything much earlier, to get done what needs to be done.

It's Rachel's birthday today forty nine years old, still making music, working hard and sounding optimistic. Not that it stops us worrying about her. She's sent me a studio recording audio track she's in the process of creating with a new collaborator in Arizona. 

In the US mid term, it looks as is the Democrats have lost control of the House of Representatives, which stalemates the government's legislation programme, and opens the way for all sorts of Trump inspired trouble-making efforts to discredit President Biden and the electoral process which put him in power. This very disturbing. At least Trump endorsed republican candidates didn't do as well as expected. Maybe the tide of opinion will turn against him. You can't fool all of the people all of the time. 

Worryingly, it's likely that Trump if re-elected would reduce military support for Ukraine, diminishing the possibility of getting rid of Russian invaders from their country. What nobody knows is how long Putin will last, as his war has not been the success he anticipated, but has set much of the world against him and his criminal gang. It's a matter of Watch and Pray.

There wasn't much of interest on live telly, so I binge watched two more episodes of SAS Rogue Heroes, and ended up going to bed late again, 

New shoes, new brolly

I had a disturbed night's sleep due to aching injured thigh muscles. It didn't occur to me that I might take an analgesic, but after breakfast I took a 400mg ibuprofen and it calmed down. Clare went to her study group, and I started work on next week's reflection before cooking fresh sardines and veggies for lunch when she returned. Annoyingly the pair of cheap reading specs I bought yesterday have broken already.

I needed an hour's siesta in the chair afterwards, and then went into town to bank a cheque, and look for a new pair of shoes, always a daunting task to my mind. I ended up buying a pair in the Ecco shop, and was given a promotional Ecco pocket umbrella for free!

By the time I reached home it was approaching six o'clock and an early supper was waiting on the table for me as we had a Fountain Choir practice in St Catherine's at six thirty. Two hours hard work! Having attempted a repair on the specs I took them with me to the rehearsal unintentionally in place of a much better pair of prescription reading specs. Somehow they held together throughout the rehearsal.

As we left the church grounds afterwards, Mother Frances who now sings with us, was heading out on her bike. I offered to lock the gate for her, as I also had church keys with me. Unfortunately, they were my keys to St John's, and she'd disappeared into the dark by the time I realised this. I had to walk home and get the right keys, then return to lock the gate properly. What an idiot!

I walked further today than I did in the week before yesterday's injury, but my leg didn't hurt nearly as much as I feared it would. It still feels bruised, like a sprain, but is much less painful than expected. I'm thankful for small mercies.

I got back in time to watch the ten o'clock news, with worrying news of the US mid term elections threatening a shift in the balance of power away from the Democrats to the Republicans, and further threat of Trump running for a second term as President. God forbid, at this critical time in global politics with financial and ecological crisis plus the Ukraine-Russia conflict already promising to destabilise further international relations. Unhappy times.

Egyptology comes alive.

Another rainy start to the day. Monday housework after breakfast. While trying to decide what to do with the rest of the day, Clare had a call from Kay Saunders, saying she had an appointment cancelled and was able to fit her in, early afternoon. I cooked pasta for lunch, then we drove to Newport. While Clare had her treatment, I went for a walk in Beechwood Park nearby. 

Unfortunately I slipped on a grassy slope which looked more stable than it was and pulled a muscle in my upper right leg. It hurt but the injury wasn't so bad that I couldn't walk. I ended on my back and jarred my hip joint. My rain jacket and trousers were covered in mud generated by my slide.  I limped to the cafe nearby, cleaned up, had a coffee and rang Kay while I recovered my composure. 

When I got back to Kay's place, she examined me and set my pelvis right. Fortunately my knee and ankle joint escaped injury, only my right quad muscle was over stretched and painful. I was truly grateful to be able to have this injury examined straightaway and reassured that I hadn't done anything really serious. It reminded me of leaving Mallorca to take the ferry to Ibiza in March 2020, when I did a similar slope slide on a greasy pavement and injured my left thigh, which still bears the marks, though I don't remember that it hurt much at the time. Hopefully I'll recover from this with the passage of time, but it was a shock right out of the blue, and could have been really life-changing. Such random occurrences can happen even when you're totally prepared and being very careful. Real life intrudes on the most careful plans laid.

We drove home, then I went to the shops, as there were a few things I hoped to buy on our way home, to see if I could walk without too much pain or loss of movement. The important thing however was a dose of arnica, pills and ointment rubbed into the thigh. I coped, but rested as much as I could afterwards. 

After supper I watched a programme on BBC Four called 'Eternal Egypt' one in a series telling the story of Egyptian civilisation in a way that interpreted the Egyptian dynasties' own historical record written on its walls and monuments in hieroglyphs. It was presented by Egyptologist Joanne Fletcher, visiting professor of Archaology at York University. It was wonderful to see her narration accompanied by annotated images of hieroglyphs highlighted when referred to in her narration. Not only that but her visits to sites rarely seen by the average tourist, plus stunning photography. In her hands the four thousand year history of ancient Egypt came alive as if she was reporting on current political and social events in today's world. I now need to watch episode one on iPlayer. Then I watched another packed puzzling episode of 'The Blacklist' and turned in early.

Wet weekend hospitality

Another day for rain. Sara Clare and I got wet walking to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist. We were thirty adults and four children. Not bad for a wet half term Sunday. I don't know if I have a hearing deficit, but I had difficulty following Mother Frances when she preached this morning. She naturally speaks fast, so decoding what she says in the pulpit requires full attention, and I still fail to grasp the point. I find this a bit distressing, as I can't work out whether I agree with what she says or not.

For Sara, it was a rare chance to worship in English again, which she says she prefers to her mother tongue Swedish. Sara is fluently bi-lingual and so is her daughter Ebba, remarkably so for a fifteen year old, whose default pronunciation style is American, but can with concentration speak English decently with an English accent also. Now and then she needs to check a word she doesn't understand or ask for an English equivalent to something in Swedish. I guess they converse in English as well as Swedish at home.

After lunch, I drove them to the airport in the pouring rain. We hugged a farewell in the car park and they made the hundred metre dash to the departures entrance, then I headed home, listening again to Choral Vespers for the Dead from Leeds Cathedral on Radio Four. Lovely. The rain stopped, and after a cup of tea Clare and I went out for a walk in the park. By the time we were on the return leg it started to rain again. Twice wet in a day.

I worked on the video slideshow for next Thursday's Morning Prayer before and after supper, taking a break to watch this week's episode of 'SAS Rogue Heroes' before uploading the finished product. It's very well conceived, though I can't help but think that much of the dialogue is anachronistic in phraseology. 

I had a text message from Sara at ten to say they'd just landed in Gothenburg. The outbound flight from Cardiff was fifteen minutes late departing, but there was enough of a wait at Schiphol not to endanger their homebound connection. All's well that ends well. A good time was had by all, despite the weather.

As the rain stopped and sky cleared after dark, I went out for a moonlit walk in the park before turning in for the night. Although not yet full moon, it shone brightly enough to cast moving shadows of trees on the path. Enchanting!

Rainy mini tour

Rain returned today, and after a pancake breakfast, I took Sara and Ebba down to Cardiff Bay to see the Senedd building and the Millennium Centre. There was a group of young Indian dancers rehearsing on the stage in the foyer for a Diwali celebration concert tomorrow. Unexpected as it was delightful to see.

Alongside the Mermaid Quay the frigate HMS Portland was docked, visiting Cardiff in support of this year's Royal British Legion Poppy Appeal. The last time I saw a ship of the line moored there it was HMS Monmouth, which was decommissioned in June 2021. I guess the Portland replaces that of Monmouth as the city's adopted ship's crew.

The rain eased so, we drove from there to see the Bay Barrage on our way to Penarth and visited the pier for a lunchtime drink and snack. Then we drove on to see Sully Island, By that time the sky was starting to clear a little. Evening sunlight peering through the brooding clouds was a magnificent spectacle. 

We drove home on back roads through Dinas Powis so Sara and Ebba could see a little of the Vale of Glamorgan landscape, with its roadside hedges, ancient farmhouses and churches, quite different from their island home in the outer suburbs of Gothenburg, but nonetheless suburban nowadays due to social changes in my lifetime.

After supper we sat in the lounge and chatted telly off until it was Sara's bedtime. Outdoors a succession of  exploding fireworks punctuated the night. I wonder how much youngsters know about Guy Fawkes nowadays.

Celebrating the unconventional

Thankfully, the weather was much better today, mostly sunny with clouds. Sara Ebba and I walked into town along the Taff trail into town. We visited the Castle briefly, then St John's. Then we walked around the shops and ended in John Lewis for a drink before catching a 61 bus home outside the Holiday Inn. 

A passer-by told us that three 61 buses were parked waiting for drivers in Westgate Street, and to expect delays, or take a different bus route out to West Cardiff. It's not unusual these days for scheduled bus not to turn up. It seems we're still suffer a driver shortage in the city, post pandemic. In fact we only had to wait ten minutes for a double decker to turn up. Sara and I swapped stories over tea at the kitchen table when we got back, while Ebba relaxed upstairs in our attic bedroom, and did whatever fiftern year olds do in their down time.

Clare cooked a chick pea curry for supper, then Sara watched 'Emmadale' before both went to bed early. Short stay visits in a different time zone can be taxing for a natural early riser. I continued watching 'Astrid Murder in Paris'. It's been very favourably reviewed on IMDB, and I agree with this. It's good to see portrayed a positive image of an autistic person and the problems many people have with someone who thinks and acts in original  unconventional ways.

Then I decided it was also time for me to turn in for an early night as well.

Soaked through

I posted my prayer video link to WhatsApp later than usual as I slept until quarter past eight. Sara was up before the rest of, making herself a mug of very strong coffee. She's a very early riser at home. I didn't go to St John's for the Eucharist, but was surprised and delighted to learn later from WhatsApp that the Thursday morning 'Warm Church' initiative went from no visitors last week to around forty today, many of them mothers with children. This may be a result of something spread on local social media I guess. I do hope the interest and interest continues and that something similar happens in St Catherine's and St Luke's.

Mid morning, we walked to the Cathedral across Llandaff Fields and got caught in an unexpected heavy downpour, which soaked my top coat right through. It stopped a few minutes after we sheltered under a tree which still had leaves, and we continued, feeling rather damp. I showed them around the Cathedral and told them something of its history and use today, then we returned for lunch, most of which I had prepared before we went out, and didn't take long to bring to the table.

It rained again on and off for the rest of the afternoon, and our guests were tired, and didn't want to get wet again, so we didn't go out again as intended to visit the Bay. We sat around and talked most of the time. although I did make a trip out when the rain stopped to buy a few things we were running out of. After supper Sara and Ebba went to bed just after eight, which is nine according to their body clocks. I watched the last two episodes of 'Wisting' on iPlayer, as it's unlikely anyone will be interested in watching this on Saturday except me. Then, after hearing news of the latest rise in bank interest rates, bad for borrowers but good for savers, it was time for me to turn in.

Night journey

The rainy season continues, plus strong winds today. We were fourteen at St Catherine's for the All Souls' Day Requiem Mass. I passed an hour chatting with people in the church hall after the service before going to collect this week's veggie bag. It was one o'clock when I reached home to cook lunch, but it only took me twenty five minutes to get a hot meal ready, while Clare practiced the piano accompaniment to a piece recorded by Jasmine, sent over WhatsApp. When she's satisfied with her part, I'll record the pair of them and send the finished product back to Arizona.

After a short siesta, I walked over to the Screwfix store to collect the wireless extender ordered yesterday. On the way back I listened on my phone to Solemn Vespers of the Dead from Leeds Catholic Cathedral, sung by a choir of men and boys using a mix of traditional Latin and English texts. Tastefully bi-lingual. 

I added the wireless extender to the home network and set it up for use with the five wireless devices we currently use which don't live in a fixed place in the house. It'll spare us connection annoyances in future.

After supper, I prepared the audio for next Thursday's Morning Prayer and Biblical Reflection. Having had a useful insight into the rather difficult text from Revelation, I wrote the Reflection quickly. Recording and editing came easily, and I finished dead on time to leave for the airport to collect Sara and Ebba from their flight. It was dead on time, and I arrived at the pickup point just as Sara's text message came in, I found them quickly and within ten minutes we were driving back to Cardiff, home by ten thirty. Both were tired by a two journey trip with over two hours flying time and five hours waiting at airports, so we didn't stay up and chat, they went straight to bed.

I was delighted to discover how good my night vision is as a result of the cataract removal. I felt as if I was driving with full confidence and no nervousness once more. What a blessing.

All Saints virtually

Clare's study group met on our house this morning. It was raining so I didn't go out, but stayed upstairs out of the way, browsing to find out where I might join a celebration of the Eucharist on this All Saints' Day. There wasn't one in the Parish nor in St German's, nor at the Cathedral, much to my surprise and disappointment. 

The Church in Wales lectionary states that the feast can be celebrated  on the nearest Sunday or the first of November. It seems as if the former has been adopted in place of the latter, although originally the Sunday nearest was a sort of concessionary alternative for those who couldn't make it to church when All Saints fell, as it mostly does, on a weekday. Both and, rather than either or. 

I googled the St David's Metropolitan Catholic Cathedral to find out what they do nowadays. and discovered the Solemn Mass of All Saints was being Sung, streamed live when I found it. I joined at the rather excellent homily and watched, thankful for the chance to join in prayer via the internet with a community that hasn't yet abandoned Western Catholic tradition.

Clare's guests left and then she cooked lunch. I wanted to buy another powerline network wi-fi plug, last seen in the big Tesco on Western Avenue, and she wanted a few other items, so I trekked out there in full rain gear to buy them. Tesco no longer stocks the said wi-fi plug, but I found that Screwfix nearby stocks them. I walked over there and placed an order. I'll have to return tomorrow to collect it. This will ease the poor connectivity problem we have in  some parts of the house, as the new router is now located in the far corner of the house instead of in the middle, as BT Openreach engineers wouldn't run the fibre optic cable and further into the property, and the new router is under powered. A second wi-fi repeater should ensure a stronger signal all round.

On returning, I resumed watching 'Arctic Circle' on Walter Presents, as Clare was at meditation group. With a break for supper when she returned, I watched the rest of the episodes before turning in. I felt that the last couple of episodes winding up the story were a little disjointed, less credible dramatically than the previous ones, as if the script writer and actors were tiring of its considerable length. Never mind. Something to do on a very wet feast day. Sara and Ebba arrive from Gothenburg tomorrow night. It's more than ten years since their last visit. Looking forward to this very much