As the air wasn't very damp there was only a light frost last night and it wasn't uncomfortably cold in bed, despite being sub-zero outside. After breakfast, there was an email from Ruth with next week's service texts, so I spent the morning recording and editing them together with my reflection for the week. Clare went to her study group in Penarth, and I had lunch cooked and ready by the time she returned.
As I was going down the lane after lunch on my way to shop at the Coop, I saw a youngish woman in front of me at a door which opens to the back yard of one of the houses in the street. She was bending over and I heard a clinking sound. She rose and hurried past me saying "Hi" awkwardly. When I looked at the doorway, there was an empty vodka bottle parked on the ground against the door. I wondered if she'd dumped it there on the way home because she didn't want to put it in her rubbish bin, perhaps to conceal her drinking habit.
It's not the first time I've seen empty quarter and half sized vodka bottles dumped in the gutter along the lane, sometimes smashed, likewise cider bottles or beer cans. I assumed it was local under aged drinking lads on their way home or hanging out in a quiet spot. But this told a different story. On the way back from the Coop, I resolved to collect the bottle to put in our recycling bag, as our weekly collection is tomorrow. To my surprise, it had disappeared. I wondered if the woman had felt guilty and returned to pick it up.
I need to go into the Post Office and pay the postage on a package as yet to be delivered, as we received an official document in this morning's post about this. Neither of us has any idea what it might be, unless it's a missing Christmas present sent for Owain to our address by Ann. The strange thing is that she took it to a Felixstowe post office, early in December, and after Christmas when she realised it had not arrived when others she'd sent to us at the same time did arrive, she went to the same post office to enquire. Not only did she find the parcel hadn't been sent, but was shown the parcel by the counter clerk at the time. And that was weeks ago. I can't imagine that parcel not having stamps on it, either initially or the second time it was shown to her in the post office. We'll find out some time soon if the parcel delivered is the one she sent or some other. It's exceedingly odd.
When I was walking in Llandaff Fields later, I saw several other walkers making hands free phone calls using wireless earpieces, as is common practice. The joke used to be that you can't actually tell if people are having a phone conversation or talking to themselves out loud because they're crazy. It's interesting to observe people making calls, because intermittently they stare into the distance when listening, and when speaking may gesture with their hands as well. I saw one young woman smiling and looking around as she walked, and overheard her praying aloud joyfully. The light in someone's eyes that says they're praying, looking above and beyond. Someone talking to themselves seems focused internally, in their own world.
There are a few crocuses now in full flower, and the spread of snowdrops steadily enlarges on the verge by the Pontcanna Fields gate. A delight to see. The evening, I watched last night's episode of 'The Blacklist' and tonight's episode of 'Silent Witness' on catch-up, which is more convenient that watching things live as you can stop and start them whenever you want. It probably makes suspension of disbelief a bit harder, as you have time to ask yourself if you really understood the plot-line details, and sometimes it is hard to make sense of what is going on.
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