Damp Friday

Rain again in the night, 19C by day under cloud cover. and occasional showers. Not too unpleasant. It was a quarter to nine when I got up this morning. Nine hours in bed but only seven and a half hours sleep if my Fitbit is to be trusted. I must be in need of the extra rest.

The morning was given over to preparing a sermon for Sunday Mass at St German's. Clare made a salmon soup for lunch with flesh from the filleted carcass of the fish delivered earlier in the week. That was a very tasty treat indeed. Then a walk to the GP surgery for a blood pressure check. It's always up when I arrive there but normalises quite quickly to what it's meant to be.  Something to be thankful for. I wonder where I am in the queue for the gall bladder operation and what different having the gall stone removed will have. 

Yesterday I had some pre-cooked 'tasty' roast chicken slices for lunch, bought from the Co-op. The 'tasty' part was due to milk fats being used in the cooking, and the slices included a small portion of stuffing. It said so in the small print on the packaging but this wasn't noticed when Clare bought it. An hour after eating I started to develop stomach pains, that go with my stomach's inablity to process dairy fats. I took a couple of doses of Clare's Swedish Bitters herbal remedy with lots of water and slowly the pain subsided and my stomach started working normally again. 

Whatever the remedy contains neutralises extra acidity and stimulates the digestive process, and there are no further after effects. It's rare this happens now, as we are scrupulous in food purchasing, and avoiding dairy fats, but it would be good to get the op behind me. The cost of travel insurance much higher when you're on a waiting list for treatment of a known condition, whether or not the issue is under control. Insurance companies don't reward you for being careful with personal health condition.

Clare went to the end of term Amser Jazz session at tea time, but I had work to do, so I stayed behind, and went for a walk when I'd finished. It was drizzling light rain which wasn't at all unpleasant, just dampening. It was notable how empty the Fields were. I got back in time for the ten o'clock news, but fell asleep listening to it. Should have gone straight to bed.

Message from Nerja

I woke up at seven, switched on the radio and dozed until 'Thought for the Day' before posting the link to this week's Morning Prayer on WhatsApp. Not quite sure why I try to listen to the early news when it lulls me back to sleep. The sound of insistent interviewers trying to extract new revelations from tight-lipped interviewees is samey and dull.

At eight o'clock the doorbell rang loudly. It was a deliveryman from Ashton's fishmongers (est 1820) with this month's bulk order of fresh fish for freezing. Clare was at the front door before I could shake off the duvet. Before and after breakfast huge fillets had to be divided in to portions, and packed for the freezer. An itemised bill comes with the fish, we can pay it by bank transfer or by card over the phone. Amazingly there's no delivery charge. It's nicer to buy from the market stall and enjoy seeing a wide range of fellow customers from around the world.

After breakfast I had an appreciative text message from the son of the man whose funeral I took yesterday. It doesn't happen often. I don't really expect it, or need it. It's enough to have been of service to others at a critical time when people are finding it hard to take in what's happening. Martin told me a few days ago that by the time he left parish ministry aged fifty, it was becoming harder for him to be surrounded by the grief of others as often as is required of a pastor, and not be deeply affected himself. There's no such thing as complete 'professional detachment'. In the news at the moment is concern about the alarming scale of absence due to sickness in the medical profession, doctors and nurses. It's not just the aftermath of the covid pandemic, but working understaffed under-resourced, and awareness of unrelieved suffering which depletes the energy of those called to care for others. How can society recover from this?

Mid morning, we both headed to town separately. I had cheques to bank, Clare was looking for a new summer skirt. Missions accomplished, we met in John Lewis' at lunchtime for a drink, then returned on the bus. Walking through the arcades and streets, the number of unoccupied retail spaces is more and more noticeable, despite best efforts made to maintain a cheerful façade. 

Inflation has hit many businesses hard and they either close down or re-locate to less expensive premises. Here and there retail spaces do re-open. I've been particularly pleased to see two big chain betting shops close in the city centre, one on the corner of Wood Street and the other at the western entrance to the City Market, now being refurbished to become yet another coffee shop. I hope it thrives. To have such a dignified portal made to look seedy as it did for several years was a planning and licensing error, and it never seemed to be much used anyway.

Clare left at tea time to get a lift to the Fountain Choir concert in Ewenny Priory. I didn't relish the thought of making an eighty mile round trip this evening. The last month or so has been demanding and stressful. Without realising it at first, I've not been getting as much quality sleep as I really need. Now I am resetting the pace of my life so I can keep doing well all that really matters to me.

I spent a quiet evening, first with a walk in the park with my Sony Alpha camera, though I only took a few moorhen pictures. Then a very long phone catch-up call with Ashley, after which I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer audio, and fitting it with slides for the video to upload to YouTube. It was pleasing to be able to complete it without interruption in about an hour and a half.

I was suprised to receive an email from the Chaplaincy Warden in Nerja asking if I would be available for locum duty there in September and October. I guess the retirement of their chaplain Fr Nigel has now been announced. This was an invitation I had to decline, as I'm committed to Saint German's over the summer until their new priest arrives. Interviews are in a month's time, so hopefully if an appointment is made, the person will be in post by October.

Clare got home from Ewenny Priory at ten thirty, delighted with the Early Music concert and performance of the Fountain Singers as part of it.

Ty am Ddim

Rain overnight, then a humid day with occasional showers, a refreshing change. I celebrated the Eucharist with seven others at St Catherine's this morning, then walked over to Chapter Arts Centre to collect this week's veggie bag. Early lunch, then picked up and taken to Thornhill to take a funeral. The deceased had been a keen golfer so the Briwnant Chapel was filled with former colleagues and golf club members as well as next of kin. It was possible to proceed at a leisurely pace with time at the end to sit through Elgar's Enigma variation the recessional music specially chosen.

When I got back from Thornhill, I did the main weekly grocery shopping at the Coop, then had a long chat with Martin, still rejoicing in his marvellous birthday party Sunday evening last. After supper I went for a walk in the park, appreciating the cool fresh air following an afternoon rain shower. Clare was watching a programme on S4C called 'Ty Am Dim' (Free House), about the renovation of a cottage in a rural village in Ceredigion, acquired at low cost because of its poor condition. The house was much more expensive to restore than anticipated, so the profit made when it was sold was reduced. It must have been satisfying to achieve the building transformation, but was it worthwhile for the workers at the heart of the story?

My understanding of spoken Welsh is pretty threadbare, I'm ashamed to say, but I was able to follow it, as much of the technical vocabulary to do with house building was in English. The Welsh spoken in West Wales is clear, making it fairly easy to follow the dialogue and maintain interest in the story told. It makes me think that I should put more effort into acquiring Welsh language. Despite several efforts at learning over the years, I've never succeeded in being able to do more than hear and partly understand and pronounce words correctly. Social conversation is still embarrassingly out of my reach.

Hairdo time

A cooler cloudy day today, but quite pleasant nevertheless. After breakfast, I drove over  to the University School of Optometry to collect two new pairs of glasses and buy some computer printer paper in Lidl's next door. I'm surprised at how quickly Clare and I get through a ream of paper in this so called paperless digital era. 

We had an early lunch before an afternoon hairdressing appointment with Chris over in Rumney. He treats us both very well and we have great conversations with him. Usually while Clare is being seen to I go out for a walk in Parc Trederlech nearby, but I didn't feel like it today, perhaps because there was much to say after Martin's birthday party on Sunday.

After we got home crawling in tea time traffic, Clare went off to her meditation group, and I went for a long walk in the park. I met Jan and Peter, out walking their Bedlington terriers. It was great to chat with them as they walked their neatly shorn dogs. Jan is hosting a symphony concert at the Res next Tuesday featuring a lesser known 'Concierto Andaluz para cuatro Guitarras' by Joaquín Rodrigo in its programme, enough reason to go. It's one I've never heard before. The guitar soloists are from the Royal Welsh College and we'll be in the College for tea in the afternoon anyway, as supporting members.

I had supper on my own as Clare are before going out. After she returned, I spent the remainder of the evening writing a reflection for next week's Morning Prayer and preparing for tomorrow's funeral.

Hearing the familiar with fresh ears.

It was nearly nine by the time I got up this morning, recovering from such a full day yesterday. The fitbit sleep tracker reckoned I slept only half of those hours, though I certainly wasn't tossing and turning all night. But then I don't rate very highly the smartness of smartwatches anyway. I did the house cleaning in fits and starts during the morning while Clare cooked a delicious chickpea curry.

I went out to inspect the moorhen's next in Thompson's Park, and found it empty,. The photos taken on the HX90 and phone camera showed what I think may be fragments of an eggshell. No sign of dead chicks or smashed eggs, but predatory gulls would make short work of them. In pond reed bed, sat a solitary bird on what, from the full length of the lens looked like a new nest. In a corner of the frame depicting the next, a black out of focus smudge which could be a chick, or not. 

I went home and collected my Sony HX300 and returned to see if I could get photos of the nest from an angle above and across the pond with a longer lens again. These confirmed a complete new nest made of reeds had been built in the reed bed. The bird that had been standing on a submerged twig when I arrived had moved into the nest. Only its back was visible. Is it sitting on a new clutch of eggs? Or a surviving chick transported from the ornamental pond to the wilder safer reed bed? 

For much of the last week only one moorhen seems to have been active in support of the other. Did one get predated or flee the scene, or been quietly busy preparing a second nest in the reed bed? It's a tantalising mystery, one which leads to conversations with other interested park visitors. Nature doesn't always give up its secrets easily. Maybe we'll find out what's going on eventually.

The bonus, however was a shot in evening light of a reed warbler under a bush on the edge of the water, a bird I've often heard, but pretty elusive in closeup.

When I got back, second time around, I emailed the best photo's I'd taken to Jasmine, and was delighted to have a response from here several hours later. She's off to Geneva tomorrow to start the road trip to the Cote d'Azur, via Turin. crazy distances in their time frame. 

I went for a brisk circuit of Llandaff Fields, to complete my daily walking distance before supper. My right ankle had been complaining slightly, and what I've learned is that I can remedy this by stretching my upper right quad with strides or knee bends, It seems to stabilise the ankle joint, though I'm not sure how.

I listened to some Miles Davis quintet early sixties tracks, from the Verve albums stored on my phone. As Clare wanted to watch Elton John's performance at the climax of this year's Glastonbury festival on BBC iPlayer, I went upstairs and sat on my bed instead. These tracks contain special memories of my sixth form years when I listened to Jazz more than pop music, thanks to my sister June and Penry my scoutmaster. It's amazing to discover that after sixty years my memory of the tracks and the solos within them are intact. When I listen to them now, they are fresher than when I first heard them, as I notice emotional expression within musical phrases, which I wouldn't have noticed nearly as much as a late teenager. It's like returning from a spell in Spain and noticing how fresh and colourful streets taken for granted at home can be.

Milestone party

An early start this morning to be at St Peter's for the 9.30 Mass. We were about fifty adults and children, and a young lad of about ten assisted me as a server and told me what I need to do. He's being trained nicely by one of the church wardens, which is a delight to see, as they have no parish priest of their own any longer. 

The I drove to St Luke's for the eleven o'clock Mass, and had to park 350 yards from church, but as traffic wasn't heavy I arrived with eight minutes to spare and we started four minutes late. A boy of about nine was one of the serving team, acting as boat boy, but also, at communion time was charged with the task of fetching the reserved sacrament from the aumbry in the side chapel for use at the altar. He did it punctually and confidently, enjoying this special little responsibility. 

It's the sort of thing which couldn't have happened a few years back, as it was though you had to be grown up to do things like that, if not a priest or deacon. It's things like this that make me think that although the church is in dire straights, failing fast, there are ember of hope nevertheless. There were nineteen adults present, plus the lad in question.

I was a matter of a snack lunch and early siesta for Clare, as I'd promised to get us to Chris and Martin's place in Newport for two thirty, to help prepare for Martin's 70th birthday party. My job was the pull the corks on the main red wine of the day and decant it so that it had six hours to breathe, which it needed as it was 14.5% abv, rich fruity Puglian Primitivo. He rang me with a video call from Lidl's the other day to ask my advice on what was on offer there. He showed me the bottles and I googled them to check and reported back, then he bought ten, plus a selection of whites as well.

There were over seventy guests and dozens of children. Martin had thrown a special childrens' party the day before, having hired a party venue which happens to be on his neighbours property, an entrepreneur who runs an events management company from the 19th century mansion he bought and restored next door for his headquarters and a celebration location he owns and uses. The house was formerly home to the Bishop of Monmouth. A huge marquee was erected in the grounds with stunning views of Newport, and used for the evening's banquet, and entertainment by a classical singer and two Jazz musicians. The afternoon reception and pre supper drinks was held the Chris and Martin's house next door up the hill. It was a wonderful event, well organised with lovely food, just running a bit too late into the evening after my busy morning. I'll be tired tomorrow!

Home video audit

A cloudy start to St John the Baptist's day, up early and breakfasting with Jas before driving her to Cardiff Central station for the 09.15 London train. Her big brother Peter arranged to collect her from Paddington Station and taker to visit the British museum for the first time. We had a text message later in the morning to say she was looking at the dinosaurs. Next we she flies to Geneva with her Dad and stepmother for a road trip through Haute Savoie down to Turin and then on to Nice. She's looking forward to seeing places, but not the many hours of driving to be endured in between. She's been a well travelled child since her infancy in Canada, before moving to Arizona. At least we could give her a good time without having to travel far, and she loved going into town on a double decker bus!

Having had a poor night's sleep, I wasn't feeling too good so I didn't do much at all most of the day. Clare cooked a prawn stir fry for lunch, and then I went for a walk in the park, and another down to Tesco's to he her some flowers and a birthday card for Martin. He's seventy tomorrow.

After supper, I completed and printed off my Sunday sermon and started extracting files from the Google Takeout zip archive. First, the YouTube videos. Sixty six assorted one of my own, and two and a half year's of Morning Prayer weekly videos, about a hundred and thirty two. Actually I think I've backed them up systematically, but there may be lapses, errors, so having a file containing them all on a separate device is adequate data security, even if I may never need to resort to them. 

The next big job will be photos, and I know I've been systematic about saving those files independently over years, but I'm just curious to see what Google Photos has saved on my behalf. And after that there's emails, blog posts. A big job with files archived stretching back seventeen years. I have an archive of messages from the previous thirteen years pre-gmail, when I used PMail. Finding an app to open such an obscure file format, if I ever needed to, could be problematic. One day I'd like to dig out and read the messages sent from my Jerusalem sabbatical end of 2000. I can't even remember if I had notebooks as well from that stay. My photos from the time were digitized fifteen years ago and are in one of the zip files from Google Takeout. Over years, I've come to rely more on the visual record I made than what I wrote, but it's good to recall what kind of stories I told family and friends then. Such a troubled time in modern Holy Land history.

Today's news of the mutiny by Wagner Group forces, their occupation of Rostov on Don, where Russian invasion forces have their main command post, and then starting a march on Moscow to confront military commanders there has certainly drawn the world's attention to the weaknesses in Putin's regime. It seems to have been more of a high profile protest initiative than anything else, as Wagner troops stopped their advance within the day. There have been minor rebellions in other parts of Russia as well in the past but these were quickly extinguished. The world waits with interest to see what happens next and wonders how long Putin's regime may last in the light of signs of instability. Meanwhile Ukraine battles on to free its land from brutal invaders. May it happen soon.

Last task of the day, finish and print out sermon for tomorrow, St Peter's and St Luke's one after the other. Then, Martin's birthday feast.

Last day with Jas

Cloudy sky returned for some of the day. Jasmine cooked pancakes for breakfast with Grandma support. Then we drove to Porthkerry Country Park and the cloud cleared along the coast. We took photos on the beach, then had a drink and ice cream at Mrs Marco's Cafe. I had my first veegan choc ice of the season which was nice, but not quite chilled enough so it rapidly began to melt in the heat and needed eating fast, which detracts a little from the pleasure. 

When we returned, Jas and I went to check out the moorhens in Thompson's park. Parents with young kids in the park after school were keen to tell them about the nest, and the hope of seeing eggs hatch. Sadly it's not going to happen while Jas is here, so I've promised to send her the first photos I get when they do. 

The two of them walked over the the Royal Welsh College at tea time for the 'Amser Jazz' end of summer term session. I had messages to respond to and worked on Sunday's sermon. With three readings this week worth drawing attention to, it took time to think about what to write. Then, a walk around the Fields and back, by which time Clare and Jas were crossing the park on their way home just behind me. I got home just ahead of them, in time to start cooking pasta and veg.

Then it was time for Jas to pack her case, ready for an early departure for the London train tomorrow. It's been a lovely week we've had with her. Sharing an interest in photography with her has been a delight, as Clare has had pleasure in making music with her, and sharing culinary creations. Hopefully in a couple of years time she'll be studying over here in UK, and there's be opportunities to see her more often.

Crushing failure

Usually I sleep well in the heat but last night was the exception, perhaps because I forgot to open window and bedroom door to ensure airflow, as I've found recently this makes quite a difference to sleep quality. Jas and I went out to Thompson's Park after breakfast to check the moorhen nest. Still there, no change, thankfully. 

Mother Frances called by for a chat before lunch. Clare and Jas went into town to shop, and but Jas a train ticket to London for Saturday. Later in the afternoon, after I had a catch-up snooze, we went for another walk to Thompson's Park and then down to Blackweir, where there was no sign of the baby ducklings to be seen, as children were swimming in the river and sunning themselves. 

We returned home to fish pie and veggies for supper, plus a handful of Strawberries gleaned from the plants in the tub at the end of Meadow Street.  The evening's news spoke of evidence found of the Titan submarine's demise on its way down to view the wreck of the Titanic with a loss of all lives on board. At four thousand metres depth water pressure is so great, even the most strongly engineered vessel is at risk of being crushed, unless it's design is more than adequate for the task. The slightest flaw or weakness in the hull will produce catastrophic failure. It implodes in a fraction of a second, bringing instant death to the occupants. A group of people rich enough to afford such a trip had their lives cut short. To what end?

After supper I talked with my sister for nearly and hour, and the went out for a cooling walk in the dark under a waxing crescent moon with Venus in close attendance under a clear cool sky. A refreshing way to end the day.

Summer Equinox sushi

A gloriously sunny Summer Equinox day with dry heat just like in Spain. Thunderstorm warnings issued again but Cardiff hasn't had any so far. Clare took Jasmine to visit Cardiff Castle this morning. Waiting after breakfast for my ride to Thornhill for this morning's funeral, I finished and uploaded next week's prayer video just in time to be picked up. There were only six mourners, a small family circle stunned by unexpected loss. When I was standing with them outside afterwards, I noticed my friend Rufus, robed and standing outside the Wenallt chapel with a large group of mourners at the end of a service. After taking my leave of the family I went and chatted with him for a short while before returning home. 

Back to downloading Google Takeout files before lunch, this time on my laptop. Downloading is notably quicker. The laptop's wi-fi ethernet card is newer and runs at a higher speed than our wired Powerline network, which must be ten years old by now. I didn't think it would make such a difference, but it does, so I've switched devices, and getting the job done in half the time.

After lunch I took Jas to visit Llandaff Cathedral and told her some stories about the building, and my life long association with it. She's grown up in a secular environment, so I'm not sure how much anything I told her made sense to her. She'll have a different sense of history as a teenager living in a country where few built structures are over two hundred years old apart from Native American edifices and sacred sites which aren't on the same scale. I feel sad that secularity has penetrated my family to the extent it has, and that they don't value our shared faith inheritance. Even if they respect it, they distance themselves from it and disregard it as irrelevant or antique.

After the Cathedral, we walked up to Llandaff weir, hunted for foraging honey bees to take pictures of, then returned via the main entrance to Pontcanna Fields, where Jas was delighted to find raspberries and strawberries growing wild in the hedgerow next to the allotments. She made sushi for supper which tasted good, though to my mind it feels like eating a meal composed of finger buffet food, so even when you're full, you wonder what you're getting for the main course. But as she said, it's great for picnics. She and her mum go paddle boarding on Tempe Lake at home and eat sushi on the water, out on their boards! 

As the sun began to set we went out together to Thompson's Park to check on the Moorhen nest, but the gates were already locked sadly, an hour before the latest sunset of the year. We did a circuit of streets around the park, while the sky turned pink and grey in between the houses. It's such a different domestic environment to suburban Tempe for her, and she enjoys just being able to walk everywhere, in contrast to a city so spread out you have to go everywhere by car. It's lovely to have this time walking together, not saying much, noting the interesting differences in environment. Jas is still looking forward to some proper rain to use her umbrella. So far, only light drizzle, and despite the promise of thunderstorms, so far, nothing.

Takeout tasking

After breakfast this morning Jasmine and I took our cameras for a walk to Thompson's Park to check out the nesting moorhens. The nest is still there and the couple take it in turns to sit on the nest and search for leaves and twigs to add to it, nor feed each other morsels. Jasmine caught sight of a clutch of several eggs, maybe four or five. It's rare to get a glimpse of the whole clutch, only when the nesting bird shifts position or reaches out to receive food from the other. I got several photos with my Sony HX50 that I was pleased with, and Jasmine even more. Then Jas and Clare went into town and caught the river ferry down to the Bay for a visit to the Senedd, the Millennium Centre, and a posh Ice Cream shop! I wasn't feeling up to a trip, and I had a job that needed to be started. 

Google is closing its archive facility next month and has sent a notification about downloading archived content if you want to keep it with Google Takeout. This includes all photos, videos, blogs, emails etc I have been meaning to do this with my blog for ages, so that I'm not reliant on Blogger for entries reaching back as far as 2006. I have this idea of taking the best of my writing from the four years of City Centre redevelopment until I retired, to see if I could turn it into a publishable memoir using the photos I took. Google takeout tells me there's 130GB of content, and it's in 66 separate archive files of 2GB. It'll be a mammoth task sorting through them all and organising it chronologically. Downloading and saving to backup drive will take 10-12 hours of machine minding spread over days.

Sister June sent a present for Jasmine plus some photo slides of our Dad she'd not seen before, which had dropped out of a stored package. I think they are Kodak 110 Ektachrome, a size I'd not seen before. There were three of them with coloured images on them. Mounting such tiny objects for scanning was a fiddly task, using a 34mm slide holder. 

The images were visible to the naked eye, but only one scanned produced a decent image. The other two scans were so terribly dark that the images when edited were pixellated so badly their only use was to identify the location where they were taken, outside our family home in Ystrad Mynach. The third one was, I believe taken at Thornhill Crematorium, after my Grandfather's funeral, but all on the same day, as Dad was wearing his bowler hat and dark suit. So sad to think that within eighteen months of those pictures he too would die, aged just sixty seven. It seems that 110 film was of notoriously poor quality, and maybe the underexposed ones which had visible images on them couldn't be scanned like the other one because the surface didn't reflect light adequately.

I cooked supper for us, prepared for tomorrow morning's funeral and received a emailed eulogy for next week's funeral. Good to have everything ready nice and early. Then went for a walk as the sun was setting. Amazing to think that it's the longest day tomorrow. 

Shutting the stable door ....?

After breakfast, the battery on Jasmine's camera needed recharging, but we didn't have an adapter for the American charger, so we went into town on the 61 bus to visit Cardiff Camera centre, and sure enough they had a European one in stock for twenty quid. We walked around for a short while, and I took Jas into St John's, where she was baptized in December 2007. I must dig out the little video I took to show her while she's here. She's not been brought up in the faith of the church, but it is part of her story I want to be sure she is acquainted with. Maybe one day the Spirit will awaken a desire for God that will lead her to lay claim to her spiritual heritage, even if I don't live to see that day.

After lunch, I drove Clare and Jasmine over to the University Music department in Corbett Road Cathays for a Jazz Master Class, then visited the School of Optometry nearby to see if I could get an appointment to get two pairs of intermediate range spec's made. I was lucky that a member of staff who arranges orders and fittings happened to be free, so I was seen without needing to book an appointment. As a regular client my last eye test details were available to process the order, so I didn't even need to produce the prescription form I took with me. In ten days time I'll have two new pairs of reading spec's. It will make life a easier, and reduce the amount of time I spend chasing around the house looking for a proper pair of glasses to use.

When I got back, I spent an hour writing, did the regular Monday housework, then cooked lentils and veg for supper. It was ready just as Clare and Jas came through the door at seven thirty. After supper Jas and I went to Thompson's Park to check the moorhen nest in the pond by the statue. It's still occupied and hasn't been disturbed, which is good news. I wonder which will happen first, pond lily flowers coming into bloom, or chicks hatching?

After five hours of debate this evening the recommendations of the Parliamentary Privileges enquiry into the 'Partygate' affair were approved by the House of Commons sanctioning Boris Johnston, even though he resigned his seat in order to avoid punishment. Although some MPs claimed his resignation had made this a pointless exercise, the purpose of the debate was to affirm the values and standards by which Parliamentary government is exercised. Is it a case of shutting the stable door after the horse has gone? Or an penitent aspiration to renounce dishonest pragmatism in politics and restore standards of truth and integrity among members and civil servants? Time will tell.

The question of how the electorate could be persuaded to vote for a persistent pathological liar whose brexit campaigning deceived a slim majority of voters into making a decision which is proving to be more to the detriment of the country than its benefit has yet to be debated credibly in any public forum. Nobody likes to admit when such a massive error of judgement has been made, making fools of people who were so adamantly sincere that that had the best interests of the country at heart.

Lost and found

I left Owain and the girls to enjoy the sunshine and a walk in the park before lunch, and drove over to St German's to celebrate Mass. Everyone I spoke to there is delighted at the prospect of a priest appointed for the Ministry Area to be based at St German's. This won't happen until the autumn. Fr Stewart has already booked me for locum duties until the end of September. Then, for the fourth time in my relationship with the church over ten years, I'll be able to step back, having worked myself out of a job. For me, that's quite a satisfying position to be in. 

What else there'll be for me to do after that remains to be seen. It may be that I'll be able to do much less. I'm having to take on more of the domestic tasks these days to support Clare and enable her to carry on doing things she loves, while she can. Another really long locum spell abroad seems unlikely, and I have stated my limitations for accepting future invitations. It's quite possible no more euro-locum duties will come my way, but I'm thankful for all that I have been able to do in the past ten years. There are so many twists and turns in life, unforeseen set-backs, surprise blessings and encounters.

I skipped coffee time after Mass and drove straight home for lunch. When I reached the front door, I realised I couldn't find my front door keys. I thought I may have left them on the sacristy desk at St German's or dropped them by the car. I had a panic, and contacted Peter and then Angela, who was kind enough to drop by church and check. Thankfully there was no sign in either place so they had to be in the house somewhere. We searched from top to bottom three times and found nothing. I didn't feel like eating, and had a rest instead. 

Later in the afternoon when a drive to Penarth was proposed, when we were leaving the house, Clare discovered both her house keys and mine in her bag! Then I remembered  I'd left the house, and then returned, realising I'd forgotten my best reading glasses, and on the way out left them in the door. While I was out Clare Jasmine and Owain went out of the house and he found my keys in the lock, but Clare assumed she'd done the same thing as me, going out then returning and not removing the keys. It's easy to get distracted when doing non routine things, we find as we get older.

Penarth was as busy as expected on the summer weekend. We drove one circuit of the seafront without finding a parking place, and then on the second circuit found one right in the middle section of the main promenade. We did the usual things, a drink and photo shoot on the pier, then a walk half way along the clifftop, before heading back home so that Owain could collect his bag and go for a return bus to Bristol. After supper, Jasmine and I walked down to Blackweir, and were delighted to one mallard family with five chicks four weeks old, and two more families, one with six chicks, the other with nine, foraging on the Bute Park side of the weir. These two groups of chicks were only about two weeks old. A delightful sight!

We returned in time for the final of Cardiff Singer of the World, won this year by Adolfo Corrado, a statuesque Italian bass with a huge resonant voice, charming grin and sense of fun. He was the only male finalist. The four female finalists were also impressive. It can't have been an easy decision with such a high standard of accomplishment all round. I was delighted that voters in the international poll for the Audience prize went to the Colombian soprano Julieth Lozano Rolong, one of my favourites, doing a little dance while she was singing at one stage. She prefers to sing barefoot, and wore a ground sweeping flared gown to avoid drawing attention to this. The versatility of her song programme choices was also attractive. I hope more Latin American opera singers are encouraged by her to take part in future. The continent's operatic tradition has its distinctive characteristics and composers, as we'll here more about this autumn with the WNO performing Osvalido Golijov's opera 'Ainadamar' in Spanish.

Nesting in full sight

Jasmine arrived with a new umbrella in her luggage hoping for rain this week. They don't get much at home in Arizona, but it's been warm with clouds and sunshine again, with only the lightest of drizzle by day, and rain during the night instead. After breakfast, she acquainted herself with Owain's saxophone and tried out a few tunes with Clare on the piano.

After lunch we walked to Thompson's park, and were delighted to see a moorhen couple making a nest on the ornamental pond in the circular flower bed. The female may already be sitting on eggs. The male was wandering around, collecting leaves and bringing them back to line the nest, a bundle of stick perched on a lily pad. Normally moorhens are shy and make their nests in waterlogged reed beds. Maybe there are too many mallards taking up space on the main pond. Apart from floating on the water, several metres from the nearest spectators or predators, the birds are nesting in plain sight. Unusual to see, a lovely sight.

Owain was caught out, not realising there are no direct trains to and from Bristol today. National Express coaches were all full but he was able to book on a Megabus, and arrived at eight. We waited for him to arrive and then ate supper together in the garden, before another music making session. And then bed.

Ear ear!

Another hot day, but not one I enjoyed to start with, as my wax blocked eardrums were causing me a lot of bother. After breakfast I walked to the audiometry clinic on Cowbridge Road, but found it closed, with no details of opening hours in the window. Not very smart if you then have to phone up to enquire when you can't hear properly. Not open until Tuesday. 

I had more audio recording and editing to do and this was more difficult to deal with than yesterday. Clare found the phone number of an audiometrist working in Michaelle Bird the Podiatrist's clinic in Llandaff Road. I called and left a message, then later, just to be sure sent a text message. After lunch I went for my blood pressure check at the GP surgery. I didn't bother to enquire about the result. It can't have been good as I'd just walked there and was given no time to settle and relax. Plus, hearing discomfort was stressing me out. I don't know why they bother. I still don't know when I'll get my gall bladder removed, or what difference these readings are meant to make. I complained about my hearing problem and was told "No, we don't do wax removal any more." Whatever happened to the NHS being 'Free at the point of use'?

I was consoled by a text message response from the audiometrist offering a three forty five appointment this afternoon. I arrived at the clinic at half past three to be welcomed by Chris the earwax guy, as he calls himself. He'd just finished his previous client, had texted me again, and then I arrived early, so he was able to down tools and go home at four, as it only took fifteen minutes to clean me out with his state of the art equipment. He even showed me little videos of the cleaned up insides of me ears, taken with a tiny camera probe attached to his iPhone camera. I paid sixty quid by card and got a receipt by email. That's done a lot to lift my spirits after a difficult few days.

"I love my job" Chris said "People come in here suffering, deaf, and go out happy and smiling." Me too. What a marvellous service to your fellow human beings. I imagine the good Lord is delighted with such advancements in medical technology. With eye surgery too. I feel refreshed, re-balanced, and resuming audio editing when I got home was an effortless pleasure again.

I was able to complete the coming week's video upload to YouTube before going to surgery, then when I got back from having my ears done, did the audio recording and editing chores for two weeks hence. With Jasmine arriving this evening I want to be as free from regular tasks as possible. I still have a sermon for Sunday to write, however. An email from St German's came in announcing the good news that a Ministry Area team post is being advertised in the Church Times for a priest based at St German's with a specialist  role in education attached to it. This is good, given the number of schools in the area, two of them church primary schools, and a big comprehensive school in neighbouring Llanrumney just across the border with Monmouth diocese to which many children from Cardiff travel. The job description has been well written. I hope and pray it attracts a really suitable candidate.   

Jasmine arrived just after half past seven. John had driven her down from Newbury, but couldn't stop, as there were no parking spaces in the street for a brief respite for his last half hour journey to Bridgend to visit friends. After settling in Jas and I went for a walk in the park with our cameras and took photos just before the sun began to set, so the light was good. Last week she and her Dad spent time together in New York, so many of the photos already taken were from the Big Apple. She was able to look at them on the Chromebook, as her new SD card fitted in computers micro slot, and she could log in as a guest to do this.

BY the time we got back she was ready for a fried egg for supper. Then it was time for bed just about, but I still have a sermon to write. I'll ponder the readings tonight and write tomorrow morning.

Found in contempt

Another bright sunny start to the day with the temperature rising into the twenties early in the day. For the first time this year, it was hot enough to leave the house without wearing a jacket. First I went to Tesco's and bought supplies for our food-bank donation then attended the Eucharist at St John's. There were seven of us present. My ride to Thornhill crem for the funeral at midday collected me from outside the church. 

By the time I arrived home for a Clare cooked curry lunch, news reports were arriving about the findings of the Parliamentary Privileges committee about activities in the Prime Minister's office during the covid lock-down. It couldn't have been more scathing, and critical of Boris Johnston, more so as a result of the written remarks in his resignation letter, deemed to be contempt of Parliament. The severest of sanctions were recommended against him. What's amazing is how many parliamentarians and well as interviewees feel he's been unfairly treated, still under the illusion that the leader of the government should be allowed to act above and beyond the law. It says a lot about the decay of shared common values in modern Britain. A vote to accept the findings of the report may take place tomorrow, though it's not yet certain in the tense political climate of the Commons at the moment. 

After lunch I walked to Llandaff village to make a bereavement visit for a funeral the week after next. The widow now lives in a retirement home, having moved a few months ago from Creigau, where she'd been a member of St David's Groesfaen congregation. The more we spoke the more her face seemed familiar. On a few occasions, I covered services there not long after I retired. As a busy steward and welcomer she wouldn't have remembered me, but I remembered her. That's the gift of a good visual memory, I guess.

When I got home, I spent the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening preparing and recording next week's Morning Prayer video to have as much time as possible free for Jasmine's stay with us. The Cardiff Singer of the World song recital competition wasn't on live at the earlier time tonight, but scheduled as a recording between ten and midnight. Too late for me. I started getting ready for bed as soon as the evening news finished after a tiring day, exacerbated by the wax build up in my right year. It always gets worse in the heat of summer, and these days you have to to pay to get treatment. Our GP surgery doesn't offer the service, the way it used to.

Vesture questions

I enjoy warm summer nights. I sleep much more relaxed and don't wake up so often. Another bright sunny day with the temperature in the mid twenties. It does me good. After breakfast a walk to St Catherine's to celebrate the Eucharist with seven others, then to Chapter Arts to collect this week's veggie bag. Clare had already made a start on lunch by the time a got home. We listened to excerpts from the song recital competition from RWCMD on Radio Three while we ate. Then went out and did the grocery shopping at the Coop before going to my blood pressure monitoring appointment at the GP surgery.

I was shocked to find that I'd missed the appointment. It was meant to be yesterday at the same time. Did make an error entering this in my diary? Or did I mishear the receptionist, talking at me in a soft voice from behind a screen? I'm not aware of my hearing getting worse. I have no problem hearing birdsong in the park, though there are times at home when I think Clare is speaking softly in a low voice. Also I find that I'm sometimes painfully uncomfortable with high volume sounds. It's time to get my hearing checked out, I think. What an embarrassment. The surgery staff must think I'm losing the plot. Perhaps I am.

I had an exchange of emails with Rufus about promoting his future ministry as an independent celebrant of. We looked at  a range of websites advertising civil celebrants. Three quarters of them showcase female celebrants, full of maternal sympathy and composure, absolutely appropriate. It does beg the question of what does a masculine celebrant offer that's distinctive and attractive. 

For the best part of two millennia priesthood has been entrusted to men whose masculinity has been effaced by ritual garments. Traditional sacred disguise makes it possible for women, and masculine or effeminate men to occupy the celebrant's role without contention. In a secular environment this can be considered alienating. Dignified dresses and smart suits according to taste must play their part instead, but what messages are conveyed by apparel or for that matter body language? These critical issues aren't easy to address. The aim is to convey confidence and invite trust in the celebrant's ability to bring a rite of passage to life and make it meaningful. Lots to think about here.

A short walk in the park before supper, then the fourth round of Cardiff Singer of the World, with four more marvellous performances to listen to. The one that really grabbed our attention was a soprano from Colombia in South America, the first ever. What a brilliantly passionate performance. She danced as she sang on several occasions, completely in character for the role she was playing. Sadly she didn't win. Well, we guess three out of four winners correctly. Tomorrow night the song competition final.

 

Life with marvellous music added

I don't know what happened to the thunderstorms and sudden downpours predicted for yesterday, but they passed Cardiff by. Today is nearly as hot as the Costa del Sol, blue skies and sunny. Clare went out before me to an eye hospital appointment. After responding to a few messages, and doing some work on Rufus' business web presentation text, I drove to my dental appointment in Llandaff North, as I didn't fancy walking up the Taff Trail in the heat. Just as well too. The anaesthetic I was given before the filling was done left me feeling slightly odd and wobbly for an hour or so afterwards as the numbness wore off. Have I become more sensitive to a local anaesthetic since the last time, a couple of years ago?

I called into Lidl's near the surgery for a few items of shopping before heading for home and cooking lunch. Clare had an extra long wait for her consultation and returned just as I finished cooking everything except the veggie sausages. We ate our plates of veggies together, while her sausages cooked, and then ate our sausages separately as a second course. During lunch we listened excerpts from the first Cardiff Singer of the World song contest recital from the RWCMD. What a treat!

Then I had a bereavement visit to make out Fairwater, and caught the 61 bus which took me within ten minutes walk of my destination. Unfortunately Google Maps misdirected me to a different address from the one I sought directions for, navigating me to a street elsewhere where a random touch on the screen had 'dropped a pin' on the map (as Google calls it), which the AI bot interpreted unquestioningly as a change of destination. This added an extra five minutes to my walk, and much more annoyance and confusion. It's not as smart as it thinks it is.

Anyway, I ended up at the correct address, where I met the brother of the deceased who'd helped to care for her over most of their lifetimes, as she was disabled and vulnerable. Another lovely story of family making it possible for a person to live a supported life in the local community, and receiving boundless love and appreciation in return.

I returned on the 61 just as Plasmawr school students were leaving and congregating at the bus stop. The ride back to Pontcanna was very crowded indeed. Then back to work on Rufus' project, before and after supper.

Clare got back from her meditation group just in time for tonight's round of Cardiff Singer of the World. All the singers were impressive, yet again, but the clear winner was another South African soprano, and we thought the same as the jury, for the third time in a row. Wonderful music!

Home winner

I woke up late, sun dispersing cloud, with thunder forecasted again for later with cloudbursts. Last week severe weather warning notifications appeared every day, but there wasn't so much as a rumble of thunder around here. At least it's decently warm. 

After breakfast I did most of the regular house cleaning. While I was doing this, a draft eulogy for this week's funeral came in on WhatsApp, then a phone call to arrange a bereavement visit for later this week in connection with the third funeral assignment I have to prepare for at the moment. It's not onerous but well spaced and regular at the moment. If it was three funerals in a week, which some clergy have to cope with, that would be tough going, but the frequency reflects a shortage of full time clergy, the 'new normal' in a shrinking impoverished church.

I did some work on the order of service and eulogy for Thursday's funeral, and then we shared cooking lunch. I drafted a list of interview questions which I'd like to put to an assortment of people, to enquire of them their reasons for giving up on churchgoing. I shared this with Rufus who was quick to point out that there were perhaps many more people who'd never experience churchgoing as part of their lives and didn't know what it was all about, or had distorted ideas of what it was all about. That's a separate investigation altogether in my mind. What interests me is how people have become estranged from this aspect of life and what this tells us about the character of the church in our time.

Later in the afternoon, I walked to town and visited the Camera Centre to see what second hand kit they might have to interest me. I returned on the bus and after a cup of coffee, went to Thompson's Park to walk some more and enjoy the peace and sunshine.

After supper, the second round of the BBC Cardiff Singer of the World, which was won by a remarkable young Welsh soprano from Pembrokeshire and former RWCMD student Jessica Robinson, a fresh exciting performer singing technically difficult songs with great gusto and dramatic flair. A natural favourite with the audience. The other three singers were also very good, but somewhat overshadowed by her brilliance.

Then another interesting episode of 'Springwatch' with a fascinating visual sequence portraying the life cycle of a native jellyfish, and others on rebuilding the population of red squirrels in Angelsey, not only in numbers, but genetic diversity, importing creatures from other habitats where they are abundant. I seem to recall that grey squirrel numbers were reduced thirty or so years ago by giving an incentive to people to cull them, with a bounty on each tail retrieved after a kill. This didn't cause outcry, as local people were keen to see the native red squirrel population regain dominance over what was an invasive species. 

There's a programme to boost the numbers of pine martens in the Snowdonia National Parks, by releasing animals bred in captivity. Another native species which was almost hunted to extinction. Now it's realised that pine martens will predate on grey squirrels, it become desirable to see pine martens proliferate as a measure to suppress the grey squirrel and allow the few remaining areas of red squirrels the space to flourish again as they once did.

Musical day off

Another cloudy humid day, but fortunately not too hot. It was my first Sunday without a service to take this year. After a leisurely breakfast I prepared Sunday lunch, steamed veg and salmon as usual, ready for Clare to switch on in time for my return from church. She wasn't feeling too well, so decided to stay in bed and rest, rather than go to church. She has to go to Bristol for a study session this afternoon and wanted to be fresh enough to make the most of it.

I walked to Llandaff Cathedral, amid a host of dog walkers setting out to take their pets for exercise. If I'd got up earlier, I might have seen the jogging hosts of the Parkrun group out and about as well. Above and beyond the sound of excited barking dogs, the sound of bells ringing for the eleven o'clock Sung Eucharist. 

In church, a congregation of about eighty, plus forty singers and clergy and choir. Today's the Feast of St Barnabas, so the service was a celebration of his life and witness, with a sublime Mass setting and anthem by Stanford and well chosen hymns to sing. Canon Bruce Kinsey the Chaplain of Balliol College Oxford preached an excellent sermon drawing upon his familiarity with the Acts of the Apostles, where Barnabas features as a key figure in the mission of the very early Church. The reading of scripture was done well, and thoughtful intercessions offered by a senior lay member of the congregation. All in all a refreshing and uplifting experience of worship.

I greeted Dean Richard at the door afterwards and said "It doesn't get any better than that you know." He grinned and said "Yes I agree. I can't believe how fortunate I am to be here and part of this all the time." He's six months into the job. He couldn't escape knowing what an unhappy place it was, before and after covid, when he accepted the job. I hope he's treated better than his two predecessors were, and gets on with Bishop Mary. He told me there had been three hundred at the earlier Parish Eucharist, a hundred and fifty adults and a hundred and fifty children. It's good to hear attendance at that service is back to normal again catering for families with children in the Cathedral School, Llandaff Primary School and the Bishop of Llandaff High School.

Lunch was ready as anticipated when I arrived home from church. Once Clare's lift arrived to take her to Bristol, I went for a walk in the park. I was delighted to see, for the second Sunday afternoon in a row, a family picnic gathering of around sixty Muslims on the north Pontcanna Field - a group of thirty women and children sitting and chatting, while another group of men were standing around barbecue grills cooking lunch. On the south field, by way of contrast, two cricket teams with their tent pavilions, taking tea at the customary hour. It's lovely to see the parks so often well used. The only problem is takeaway food and drink packaging overwhelming the bins or dumped randomly, and horrible instant barbecue trays bought from supermarkets ruining the grass. Large social groups arrive to barbecue equipped with proper cooking equipment and set a good example, leaving the place tidy after their party.

Clare returned from Bristol in time for supper and 'The Archers'. Then we watched the first round of the fortieth 'BBC Cardiff Singer of the World' competition, broadcasted from St David's Hall. Four remarkable young singers performing with the Welsh National Opera orchestra. A feast of operatic arias. All four were accomplished and faultless, but one stood out, South African soprano Nombulelo Yende. Her elder sister Pretty is already a world class operatic soprano, singing at the King's coronation a month ago. An amazing musical family! She sets a very high standard to attain for the twelve singers yet to perform.

So good to have a day to relax and do nothing but enjoy listening.

When the penny drops

Last night was pleasantly warm making for relaxing sleep and late rising. Clare was up early however, and cooked waffles for breakfast. Boris Johnson and Donald Trump are both accusing politicians and officers of the law of conducting a witch hunt against them. Such monstrous egoism! It's amazing that for so long both lied and deceived their way to the top of the pyramid of power and persuaded people to support them. This says a lot about the moral and spiritual health of our respective countries.

In today's post there was a happy Father's day card from Kath for next weekend. The date of Father's day isn't fixed in my mind. She and Anto are going on a cruise along the Norwegian coast this week.

I cooked pasta and veggies for lunch after an idle 'do nothing' morning, perhaps because I don't have to prepare for taking a service tomorrow. There was a layer of cloud, no wind, occasionally penetrated by a few rays of sun, and it's been humid. I sat in the lounge looking out aimlessly at the sky, then fell asleep for an hour. I guess I need to do this given how busy life has been lately with funerals, Sunday services and the weekly prayer video to prepare for.

We went for a walk before tea. Light intermittent drizzle made it necessary to carry and use umbrellas. Too warm to wear a light waterproof. Cricket matches continued, but groups that had gone out to picnic settled down under the shelter of big trees, a rather strange sight.

Discarded in the bushes near Blackweir bridge was a brand new 'bag for life' from one of the supermarkets so I retrieved it and carried it around Pontcanna Field picking up cans, glass and plastic bottles and paper cups, about twenty altogether, a bag half full. And this was on a day when there wasn't a large number of people out picnicking as was the case last week when the weather was much better. I deposited my haul in a bin before heading for home along with the 'bag for life'.  I'm not alone in doing this, reaching polluted places Council rubbish bin emptiers and their mechanical sweeping machines cannot cover. It's another way helping out others after all.

After supper, with no appetite for watching telly, I sat and read Zafon's 'La Sombra del Viento' for a couple of hours. He's a great story teller, and his narrative descriptions and dialogue are funny enough to make me laugh out loud. If I was reading this in English, it might make me smile or snigger. I think the laughter arises because I'm a little slow to realise what I'm translating is funny, and laugh when the penny drops. It's a different kind of entertainment, I suppose. Time passes quickly when I read and then it's time for bed.

Amser Jazz Time in person

I woke up early, posted the YouTube link for today's Morning Prayer to the Parish WhatsApp thread, then dozed, listening to the news, missing Thought for the Day and then catching up on it minutes later on BBC sounds, and finally getting up refreshed at half past eight.

Clare entrusted pancake making to me today. She thought it was Saturday and prepared for it fully before realising her wrists her too much to cope. It's often the case earlier in the day. No idea why. Anyway, for me with no experience of working with vegan pancake batter it was a matter of trial an error, but it worked out fairly well. The last time I remember cooking pancakes was at a St German's social social event before covid.

I drank a couple of mugs of weak coffee while I cooked. More than I usually would. I was surprised it made a difference. I have to drink a litre of water before I eat breakfast these days. Still it takes me half the morning to feel fully awake. Not exactly drowsy but less alert that I expect to be. I don't think it was a caffeine overdose, It's something to do with my gall bladder not working as efficiently to regulate my digestive juices as it needs to. Porridge and a few slices of toast require my stomach to work as hard as it would with a heavy meal, though I don't feel bloated or dyspeptic. Black coffee's bitterness seems to help the digestive process. If the coffee is too strong, I get dyspeptic pains. At the right dilution It's beneficial. Tomorrow I'll brew a pot of decaffeinated coffee to see if this has the same effect. 

After breakfast the guest on this week's Desert Island disks was South Walian front-line journalist Jeremy Bowen talking about his life and work, a man who has spent his life and often risked it to be a first hand witness to terrible events, leading to him testifying at War Crimes Tribunals in the Hague and reporting on military disasters which generals in charge got wrong due to bad information and lack of a front-line witness of their own. I found it moving to hear him speak about himself and the redemptive effect of coming finally to family life in his forties.

I drove to Llandough Village to make a bereavement visit at eleven. There's a steep lane down the hill on which St Dochdwy's Parish Church stands, enfolded in ancient woodland. To think that in the sixth century there would have been a monastic Llan in the area surrounding the church, embedded in forest with a spring of water running through it.  I seem to recall that at least part of the churchyard wall still reflects the original circular shape of the settlement. Near the bottom of the land is a house and a row of bungalows with lovely gardens front and back you wouldn't know were there, this little side valley is so secluded. A haven for bird life too.

When I returned, I started work making next week's Prayer video, then cooked lunch and finished the job after we'd eaten. We went for a walk in Bute Park towards tea-time. I took some photos of a pair of cormorants and a young heron just below Blackweir Bridge. The cormorants were fishing for eels, and although I could see this at a distance of fifty yards it was too difficult to photograph. There were a pair of wagtails paying about over the water and returning to a rock in the middle. I took photos and didn't really expect much of them, but a few were better than expected and showed they were yellow wagtails, not the pied ones of which there are lots further away from the river.

We ended up walking to the Royal Welsh College in time for a drink and the start of Amser Jazz, live and in person for once. Two acts were on the programme. The first was Elijah Jeffrey, Jazz singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, a college student nearing the end of his course performing his own songs on piano or guitar accompanied by Huw Llewellyn playing muted trumpet in the wistful style of Miles Davis. Beautifully minimalist Jazz. Very effective. Elijah's first EP is launched in two weeks time. Then Safiya Joscelyne and her quartet, paid tribute to the singer Eva Cassidy with their own take on a selection of Cassidy's album 'Nightbird', lovely interpretation of several classic romantic Jazz songs. What a treat!

We bumped into our friend Fr Hywel Davies between sets, and sat at table with him. He'd come down from Cwmbach near Aberdare, obliged to drive down to Mountain Ash to get the train, as the line betond Mountain Ash to Aberdare is closed for line electrification work at the moment. It may be pretty inconvenient for Valleys people, but at least work is finally proceeding on the grand plan to upgrade the South Wales railways worthy of re-branding as a Metro network. It's the first modern development in a century, despite the closure of many less used lines back in the 1960s.

Sections of rail infrastructure lost irretrievably due to the Beeching cuts would be invaluable today. De-industrialisation of the Valleys led to many more people having to commute from the Valleys to coastal towns and cities for work. Roads, despite upgrading are congested and the remining rail network struggles to cope it the volume of users. Hopefully, improved Metro infrastructure will make possible an increase in rail traffic, and ease pressure and pollution on the roads.

It looks as if my speculation yesterday about the destruction of the Kahkova dam in Ukraine was close to the truth. An intercepted Russia security message about the activity of a sabotage unit indicates that an explosion on the dam wasn't intended to cause so much damage, but to send a message to Ukraine. In Norway, a seismological monitoring station recorded the impact of the blast 400 miles away, estimated that about a ton of explosive had been used enough to break the dam, not just render the road across it unusable. Aerial photos show no indications that it had been bombed or shelled, as the Russians allege. Does the Kremlin regime realise the extent of the scrutiny its every action is subject to? 

There was nothing I wanted to watch on telly tonight, so I spent the evening uploading and editing the photos I'd taken and writing. Then just as I was about to turn in for the night, the breaking news that Boris Johnston suddenly announced his resignation as an MP, before the Covid enquiry, and the Parliamentary report on the so called Partygate scandal.  And today Donald Trump is indicted on serious criminal charges which is bound to have an impact on the next presidential campaign. How long before the Russian people wake up and realise the extent to which they have been deceived by Putin and his gang? The world doesn't need such egocentric leaders.

Facing a future unprovided for

I was rather slow getting started this morning, as I needed to made a bereavement call and arrange a visit, but made it to St John's for the Eucharist just in time. The visit will be tomorrow morning in Llandough. 

When I got back from church, I decided it was time to pay my contribution to Parish funds, and went on line to our bank account. I was rather annoyed to find that I can't find a way to produce a record of all my previous payments, to figure out how much I should be paying, and had to hunt through the paper version to find the previous entry, among hundreds of transactions great and small. 

The bank keeps nagging me about going paperless. If only clever people on big IT salaries realised it's easier to scan a sheet of paper in hand than scrolling a screen when identifying a single item with no search facility in this section of their website, and do something about it, maybe I could be persuaded to comply.

It took me a while to check my figures and work out how much I should pay. I tend to do this only two or three times a year, rather than use a simple standing order. This allows me to adjust the amount we give to take into account rising running, and the need to contribute for special purposes. So far, I'm in a position to give more as I earn extra from locum duties. I'm happy that's how it is for the time being.

We had a tofu stir fry with rice for lunch, one of Clare's specialities which I helped her prepare. She went to the CRI for an x-ray after lunch. I followed her into town, to bank a cheque, and we met in John Lewis' for a drink before returning together on the 61 bus. I was going to buy a discounted Lumix GX80 camera, but when I enquired about it, found that the packaging and accessories were no available, so the displayed item could not be sold to me. 

The same thing happened with another discounted Lumix camera several months ago. Why on earth display the camera when no stocks are left, no more are expected to arrive in-store and the display camera is deemed unsaleable? Something's wrong here. It's bad enough that the sales person knows nothing about cameras and tries to sell you one that's totally different from the one you've stated that you want. No wonder 'The Partnership' doesn't do as well as it used to when service standards are lowered.

After supper I made a few phone calls to contact bereaved families. Mother Frances asked me to cover yet another funeral this afternoon so I'm preparing one a week in the next three weeks. That's eight altogether since returning from Spain. A consequence of full time clergy shortage. My friend Rufus is far sighted in retiring early from his part time job to develop a specialist pastoral ministry to bereaved families outside the church in areas barely covered by understaffed Parish clergy with many other duties to cover. If only it were possible to establish a guild of ministers, lay and retired clergy which trained to the same standards, and were willing to be deployed over a wide area, to wherever there was a need, and funeral directors find local clergy are not available. It would be necessary to have a protocol so that working clergy and guild members treat each other as partners and share information so neither rivalry nor resentment can arise.

It's a problem that established churches often see themselves as proprietors of the realm of pastoral care, and fail to acknowledge the depths of the gulf between themselves and grass roots secular community. In his early days as Pontiff I recall Pope Francis expressing fraternal warmth towards religious leaders of the Anglican, Protestant and Pentecostal communities in Latin America, valuing their missionary enterprise and seeing them as 'Partners in the Gospel'.  Many would agree with him, but there are still some people in leadership, quietly dissenting and disregarding changes that have taken place in the past half century. 

News of the return of the Pacific 'el nino' ocean current phenomenon threatens to exacerbate the impact of global warming in the next couple of years. The rate at which polar ice caps are melting increases faster than predicted, suggesting we are now past the feared tipping point after which damage to environment and species loss is irretrievable. Yet another case of people in power dissenting and disregarding well documented changes and insisting on interpreting them differently (for their own economic benefit). The ancient biblical truth that unless we repent of selfishness and greed we'll be punished and destroyed is as relevant today as it was two and a half millennia ago. For half my life I have been preaching about this possibility to deaf ears, sad to say.

Mishaps and troubleshooting

Back to a clear sky start to the day by the time I got up this morning gone eight o'clock. More news from Ukraine about the impact of flooding from a breached dam on the Dnipro River, a border line between Russian invaders and defenders. Over 230 square miles of territory have been indundated, impacting occupiers and defenders. Each blames the other in the propaganda chess game of modern warfare. This will make the region unexploitable to both sides as a battle ground for armoured vehicles. Russian occupied Crimea will suffer, as much of its water supply depends on the Dnipro. 

It seems to me a tactical decision was taken to breach the dam to make the road across it unusable to the Ukrainian counter offensive. The power station and section of the road on top of the dam were destroyed a few days ago, evidently weakening the dam. Now the breach gets wider and the extent of flooding increases. It was a decision taken without thought for consequences, a Russian own goal, blamed on the defending forces. It's sick and delusional. How long can the criminal Kremlin regime survive in the light of such a foolish action?

After breakfast, I joined eight others for the Eucharist, coffee and chat at St Catherine's, then came home and cooked prawn risotto for us, while Clare had another acupuncture treatment. My fitbit emailed me a warning to re-charge it, at 20% after four days of use. It seems a shorter time than when I first had it, but maybe that's something to do with the display settings, as I prefer an always-on dial display. I took it off to charge it while sitting in the lounge armchair writing on my Chromebook after lunch. It takes a couple of hours normally. This time after half an hour, I found it wasn't charging. The charging interface on the back of the watch was caked with enough sweaty residue to prevent a charging connection. Who'd have thought it? A quick wipe and it was working again normally. Something to think about every time it needs to be charged in future.

It was five when I went to do the grocery shopping at the Coop. Clare asked me to call at Beanfreaks to exchange a big bottle of washing liquid for one of fabric softener. Somehow the cap had been loosened, and it leaked into the shopping trolley. When I took it out of the bag in the shop there was liquid soap all over the place. It had dripped into a plastic bag in the bottom of the trolley and not affected the bag, but when I moved the bag it dripped all over the floor, most embarrassingly. Fortunately the shop was due to close, so no other customers were affected. Younis the manager gave me some kitchen roll and I mopped up the spill apologetically, then made the exchange, which left me in credit, so I bought a rye load and two packs of lemon and ginger tea, which covered the credit and left me paying the difference, although I did get things we needed.

Then when I got to the Co-op checkout later, I realised I didn't have my keys with me, so I couldn't get the Co-op card points. When I got home, I found the keys in the front door lock. Heaven knows why, but at least I didn't lose them, and was able to register them at the Co-op website on Clare's computer. But in using Clare's computer, the only Linux one in regular service, I realised it needed updating. Normally it is very straightforward, but there was a broken library link preventing updating. Fortunately I was able to fix this by following the on screen instructions, and followed this by adding a device that enables a phone's filesystem to be read on the computer. Clare can now transfer files from one device the other.

After supper, I spent the evening recording and editing the audio for next week's Morning Prayer and completing Friday's extra prayer video and uploading to YouTube. All in all quite a busy day. Before going to bed I went out for some exercise to clear my head ready for sleep. I did a circuit of Llandaff Fields, and was surprised that the air was milder tonight under a clear sky than it has been so far this year with the cold wind coming from the east. Here's hoping it stays warm.

The park was completely empty when I set out. All of a sudden on the return stretch groups of people were walking past me, up towards Llandaff. On the main road there were queues of cars normally seen at evening rush hour. Then I remembered there's been a concert in the stadium tonight, the second of two night's of gigs by Cold Play.

My first Kingfisher perching

Cloud crept in again overnight. A cold start to the day. I walked to the surgery for a pre-op blood pressure appointment just after ten, to be told that the appointment isn't until eleven twenty. When I accepted to do a funeral this morning I forgot to re-schedule the blood pressure test. To add to the confusion, instead of doing this, I had re-scheduled my lift to the crem to collect me from the surgery instead of home, an hour earlier. It's crazy, because the diary entries were correct. I had misread them and made the wrong decision, probably when we were in Burry Port on holiday. I have to wait another week now. Not that it's going to make much difference, I suspect I'll still have to wait many months more for the gall bladder removal, as it's not have any distressing impact on me so far.

I alerted Pidgeon's to the change of rendezvous and returned home to wait the extra hour in the comfort of our front room, while Clare's study group occupied the dining room, filling the house with the sound of animated chatter. In future I must pay more attention to checking diary detail if events run close together and act without delay to avoid the risk of a clash, whether I'm on holiday or not.

We arrived at Thornhill early. In the large Briwnant Chapel a funeral involving a horse drawn white hearse was about to start. After the service we saw it leave for the next leg of the journey to Western Cemetery. In contrast the service I took had eight mourners and the coffin had no flowers. Three of the immediate next of kin waited outside the Briwnant Chapel, without realising it wasn't the right one, but were rescued by the funeral conductor. This small group, left after the other five mourners had departed, suggesting a rift in the family still unhealed. I was told nothing of the background story by the bereaved father in his eighties, who had made the funeral arrangements. It's very rare to know nothing at all about the person whose soul I am asked to pray for. It would have been impertinent to ask. God only knows the full story.

Clare's study group had all left by the time I arrived home, and she'd cooked lunch. Afterwards I recorded and edited the Morning Prayer and reflection extra for Friday, and then we went for a walk around the park and along the Taff. For the first time since I retired thirteen years ago and started walking along the river bank, I caught sight of a kingfisher standing on the branch of a tree fallen along the bank at water level, just five metres away. It was gone too quickly to get a photo or draw Clare's attention to it, but I do recall several years ago seeing a Kingfisher fly out from a hole and disappear up-river in a flash. This time I was able to take in its colour and form and get a fair impression of its size in its surroundings. It was luck but confirms where best to linger, camera at the ready, if I ever want to get a decent photo.

After supper we watched Springwatch together. Then there was a documentary on the serial killings which took place in the Port Talbot area fifty years ago this year. BBC Wales has just completed showing a four part drama based around the detective work which finally tracked down the murderer in his grave, some thirty years after the crimes took place. It was a world first instance of familial DNA matches being used to identify a criminal, when DNA testing had not long been invented. How far forensic science has come in the twenty years since then. Interviews were given by the victims' families, and by leading detectives who were young men involved in the original investigation, and then thirty years later re-commissioned to work on the 'cold case', as we'd call it nowadays. All the personal testimonies were moving. I'm glad that I didn't see the crime drama series, and after this don't feel the need to watch it all all on catch-up.

Eventful Monday

Our recent run of sunny early mornings came to an end today with all over cloud cover, and a chilly wind from the east, but fortunately the cloud started moving west and the day got lighter and brighter as it went on. By early afternoon the sky was  all blue again. I woke up remembering I had a music playlist to send to Pidgeons for tomorrow's funeral and while I was at my desk, straight after breakfast, prepared orders of service for the next two funerals, and printed off the one for tomorrow. Then notice of another funeral arrived in two week's time.

Then Morning Prayer and housework. Clare went for a GP appointment about the agonising wrist pains she's coping with at the moment, and been ordered an X-ray to see what's going on inside the joints. This is rheumatoid arthritis, but it could be exacerbated by a side effect from the calcium injections for the osteoporosis in her spine. The many frustrations of getting old!

I cooked pasta with butter beans in a sauce with mushrooms and Swiss chard for lunch according to one of my own recipes. Then I started work on a second Morning Prayer video for Friday this week, standing in for Fr Rhys, who's away on a course. According to the CofE Calendar it is both the feast of St Columba and that of St Ephrem the Syrian, but the Church in Wales Calendar has moved St Ephrem to the 10th for no discernable reason. Ephrem died of plague in Edessa on 9th June 373. Columba died at Iona on the same date in 597. Both are of equal significance, Columba, as the evangelizer of Scotland and Northern Ireland, and Ephrem as a great poet, writer and teacher of Christian faith grounded in the Nicene Creed. He was the John and Charles Wesley of his day combined, with over 400 hymns to his credit. I have an extra affection for him since my explorations and travels discovering Middle Eastern Christianity in Syria and Palestine thirty years ago. 

I set out to write a reflection on Ephrem for Friday's Morning Prayer, and found out much more in a brief internet search than I did back in the late 1990s, when all that was available was to be found in several well researched books for a select academic audience. Since then, the rise of the internet and Wikipedia, allowing expert collaborators (and sometimes eccentric idiots as well) to build an on-line account of a person's life and all their work as comprehensive as one could have wished for back then, or now.

Then I did some further checking and realised that Friday's liturgy is in honour of Columba exclusively, so I had to abandon my new findings for another occasion, and write something relevant to Columba instead. It wasn't difficult, as it gave me an opportunity to speak about the surprising and unexpected path which is followed when the Gospel spreads spontaneously. Today we're all so full of plans and strategies that we fail to realise that the seeds of the Word once sown, grow naturally organically. It's all there in scripture and is simply ignored, to the discredit of modern church leaders, out of touch with the grass roots and the lessons learned from two millennia of church tradition.

I wrote while Clare was having her siesta. When she woke up she reminded me were going to make bread today, so I stopped writing and got to work on making a batch of dough and putting it in tins ready for the over. Then, I went out for a brisk walk to Aldi's and back to buy some of their wine for a change. When I returned, Clare had baked the bread and turned them out of the tins, looking good. Very satisfying. Straight away I left for Cowbridge Road and caught a number 18 bus to take me up to 'The Res' for a concert, part of the national 'Churches Unlocked 2023' public relations exercise. 

Jan the Vicar, is a professional standard strings musician,  and with two collaborators, playing organ, piano and singing, put on an hour long programme of accessible music in church, just for pleasure. There were meant to have been four of them, an oboist as well, but she got sick at the last moment, and Jan had to play all the oboe pieces unrehearsed to hold the programme together, and did so superbly. There were about forty there in the audience, among them, four from St Catherine's who'd come by car driven by Stephen, who gave me a lift back to Pontcanna, and invited me and the others back to his house for a drink afterwards. A delightful summer evening surprise.

I was back by nine, but had to spend nearly an hour investigating the failure of our TalkTalk 'You View' digibox device, leaving us without telly. It hadn't died, but it took that long to realise that the wall plug with its built in transformer wasn't fully inserted, even though it appeared to be. If only I'd thought to look properly at the power source first of all, I wouldn't have wasted so much time! 

At the end of quite a busy day, glad to turn in for the night at last.

All that glistens ....

Despite the bright morning sunshine, I didn't wake up until gone eight this morning. When the Radio 4 'Sunday Worship' programme came on it wasn't a conventional service, but a meditative presentation about Edward Elgar's sacred music with readings and prayers included. Fine, in its way, but not the usual live act of worship with congregation and choir. I guess this had to happen during lock-down, but it's become an occasional feature of Sunday's dedicated morning worship slot. I don't suppose the BBC would have made this a part of its programming schedule if there'd been no demand for it, and features of this kind have been in the late evening devotional slot for ages. But, what of those listeners who tune in looking for a live act of worship, so they can imagine themselves part of the congregation, rather than individual consumers of a religious programme product? I think there is a difference.

I so enjoyed celebrating Mass at St German's this morning, with the sunlight pouring in, lifting the spirits. There were thirty four of us in church. Of the twenty eight communicants, four were in wheelchairs, five under 16s, two retired clergy, no longer active, and a mix of people with African and Asian backgrounds in addition to Cardiffian regulars. It's one of those special nurturing congregations where a priest can feel that they receive more than they give out from ministering to people. I stayed late, chatting to people after the service, but remembered to ring Clare and tell her before I left. It was one twenty by the time I got in for lunch, but she'd waited for me, so we could eat together.

I siesta'd for more than an hour after lunch and when I woke up found a message from Frances to find out if I'd be free to take a funeral in two week's time. That's three I've got lined up at the moment. Fortunately, they are well spaced out. June's friend Elaine called me. My effort at fixing the erroneous bookmark in her Chrome browser through remote sync'ing hadn't worked. I was able to explain to her how to edit the list of bookmarks, and at second attempt she succeeded. It's a relief she understood what I was talking about. It seems she had difficulty topping up June's phone, probably because it ran out of credit a while back. When that happens, the number can get relegated to 'dormant'. although it should still be able to make emergency calls and text messaging.

Then a walk around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. There's a lot of outdoor socialising going on at the moment and rubbish bins are heaped to overflowing. I wish these throwaway barbecue kits were banned, as they burn into the turf and cause added mess around the rubbish bins, along with takeaway pizza boxes which take up far too much space needed for empty drinks containers. I found one barbecue tray that was probably abandoned yesterday in a remote spot on the periphery of Llandaff Fields. I took it to the nearest bin 150 yards away but there was hardly enough room to cram it in. 

Everywhere I recognise discarded plastic bottles and cans in undergrowth or long grass because sunlight is reflected off them. It so mars the beauty of nature I feel I must retrieve them and take them to the nearest bin. All that glistens is definitely not gold! I could get to feel depressed and angry about the carelessness of those who abuse our common land. It's the selfish ignorant behaviour of badly brought up children, no matter how old the culprits may be. Sanctions don't work. Enforcement is non existent, and there aren't enough bins in strategic peripheral locations. 

If only the Council would provide extra empty rubbish sacks at overflowing bin locations, where demand for containers outstrips existing capacity. This could actually make the daily clearance operation at peak times much more efficient I believe. There'll always be a few people around to insist that rubbish is at least kept tidily once the bins are full. 

We had a phone conversation with Gail in Worcester before supper, to arrange a visit to collect Clare's clavichord which Clare loaned to her husband Mike several years before he unexpectedly died. Where it will fit in the house is something that will need some thought.

There wasn't much of interest of telly, so I went out for a walk around Thompsons Park for half an hour before it closed at sunset. A pleasant aesthetic experience with near horizontal golden rays of sun piercing the trees on top of the hillock and lighting them up. Another gorgeous day, and in Thompsons Park there was only one discarded cider can to take from beneath a park bench to the nearest bin thirty yards away.

Homage to MIles Davis

A refreshing night's sleep, then pancakes for breakast again. Clare spotted an interesting Jazz concert at the Royal Welsh College tonight featuring the music of trumpeter Miles Davies. We succeeded in booking a couple of tickets for this on-line. At the end of the morning we drove to Penarth and had lunch in on the terrace of a bar/restaurant on the promenade called Pickfords. It was as a delightful experience sitting out in bright clear sun, overlooking the Bristol Channel with the tide full out, exposing riverbed sand and rock beneath the beach of pebbles.

As we were about to order, Fran called about a meeting with a former colleague and was delighted to learn that we were in the vicinity. She and Marc came down to join us for a drink at the end of the meal and then we walked around for a while before heading home for a pre-concert siesta and supper.

We walked through Bute Park to reach the Royal Welsh College, arriving in good time for the seven thirty concert. It's part of a week long Jazz festival feature performance from students past and present in honour od the head of Jazz Paula Gardiner, retiring after 23 years at the College. Tonight's was a celebration of the 1960s music of Miles Davis by a Welsh quintet, headed by trumpeter Tomos Williams. The auditorium was full, predominantly with white haired people, as a lady sitting next to me remarked, as we reminisced about when we first heard his albums on the iconic Verve label. 

The band performed superbly a range of tunes, some of which were familiar, others not. The ensemble was very tight and the soloists for the most part, good. The only non-Welsh group member was a percussionist from Birmingham whose versatility was very impressive, in terms of variety and sensitivity, even if his solos were a little too long on times, for my taste. A great evening out, even if we were pretty tired by the time we walked into town to catch a bus home, and go straight to bed.

I was introduced to Miles' music aged seventeen by our Scoutmaster Penry Jones, who'd recently finished his National Service and returned to work in the Valleys with a record player and a selection of the latest Jazz albums. Sister June had already introduced me to Jazz and taken me to live concerts in Cardiff five years earlier, and brother-in law Geoff played saxophone in a dance band. I was lucky to have been raised in a music household.

Video edit crash puzzle

Another early rising on a sunny morning, and out of the house for my dentist's appointment by twenty five past eight. As it's half term, the roads were less crowded than usual so I arrived at the surgery ten minutes early. Mr Benfield the dentist inspected the damage and said that the repair job would be straightforward, and I was booked in for a midday appointment on 13th June. He didn't do a temporary filling, as I assumed he would. Perhaps because he could see that the remainder of the tooth was healthy, with just a portion of the original filling still in place. Ten minutes later I was in the nearby Lidl's superstore buying stocks of nuts and smoked fish at decent prices. Back home for breakfast by half past nine. Quite a good start to Friday for me!

I started to work on next week's Corpus Christi prayer video, and soon had a sense of déjà vu about it. In almost all cases the readings and prayers for a Thursday vary because the calendar date and day vary over a cycle of seven years. Ascension and Corpus Christi are on a Thursday whatever the date. I hunted in my digital archive for a previous video and found that the readings for last year were identical. I had already written a different reflection, and the intercessions were also a little different. I wondered if I could edit together the first half of last year's video and the second half of this year's if I prepared this first, using Microsoft's Clipchamp video editor.

On the surface Clipchamp has all the necessary facilities to make light work of this, but in practice this was not the case. It frequently crashed at each stage of the process. My windows laptop is powerful and fast enough to do the job, and my broadband connection is moderately fast, but the app was simply not good enough.

I tinkered around with this all morning until it was time for a chat with my old friend Roy Thomas, now firmly established in Spain, working from Madrid. He's bought property in Alicante now and can see himself staying in Spain for the foreseeable future. We chatted for more than two hours, then I went for a long walk, enjoying the sunshine, picking up annoying rubbish where I could. Today it was half a dozen crisp packets and just three drinks containers.

Finally after supper I caught up with the bereaved father of a man whose funeral I'm doing on Tuesday. He said that he's not been at home much recently but driving down to the seaside, as home is too full of painful memories just at the moment. Now we've talked I'll be able to prepare the funeral service more fittingly, and spared the worry of tracking him down over the weekend.

I spent the evening tinkering with Clipchamp to see if I could learn what made the app crash frequently, but without bothering to uninstall and re-install it, just in case there was something wrong with the version installed on my laptop. Instead I went my study workstation, as least as powerful as my laptop if not more so. I'd not bothered to install Clipchamp on it before, but once the device had sync'd with the laptop, I was able to load the two video component files, edit them and render them into the final MP4 without a crash. There's a difference in sound quality between the first half and the second, as they were recorded in different rooms but that doesn't matter. The fact is, I've learned that I can re-use old video material if I need to, but it is a fiddle in terms of my weekly daily prayer videos compared to making a slideshow video, the way I have done for the past two years.

Another attempt to get to be earlier tonight, and maybe get a bit more out of a fresher earlier start.