I'm used to waking up and getting back to sleep several times in the night, but was taken by surprise this morning, waking up at twenty to ten, after ten hours in bed, and eight and a half hours' actual sleep if my fitbit is to be believed (not sure I do). Clare decided to come with me to St Luke's instead of St Catherine's as it's our 57th wedding anniversary today, the Feast of the Transfiguration. It'll be sixty years since we first met, this October.
We went by car to church. It's something I rarely do unless travelling between two services, or going across to St German's. When I arrived, Kath the organist was having problems selecting hymns, as she hadn't realised today is not an ordinary Sunday after Trinity. As I was leafing through the hymn book looking for a topical one which wasn't included, heaven knows why, Fr Colin appeared. It seems he'd been asked to celebrate today some time ago, although my name was on the last amended rota I received. Last Sunday there wasn't a priest, as Fr Rhys is on holiday so it's possible there was a mix-up in organising replacements. Ah well, never mind. I was happy to sit in the congregation with Clare instead, and really appreciated a Transfiguration sermon not written by me. Only one of the usual six singers in the choir, with Fr Colin we were twelve.
We went straight home afterwards and Clare cooked a delicious anniversary lunch - salmon with a parsley sauce, roasted slices of round courgette coated with mustard and honey, plus roasted potatoes and steamed runner beans fresh from the garden. A real summer feast! She's also been industrious, cooking a big batch of apples and straining the liquor to make apple and ginger jelly, four jars worth.
Later, we went for a circuit of Llandaff Fields together, then I went for another circuit of the park to reach my daily exercise goal. I'm through the worst of this streaming nose episode now, but I'm still coughing up a lot of phlegm. Thank heavens there's no infection or soreness. It's most unpleasant as it is, and being out in the fresh air helps.
I finished watching 'Seizure' before supper. A potentially interesting story-line confused by the traumatic flashbacks of its two guilt stricken protagonists, overuse of aquatic imagery to portray them overwhelmed by their feelings, and an essay on the demonic and sin from an anthropology expert whose contribution was made in French. Another layer of obscurity, adding to the overall length of a story which could have been told in three quarters of its length. Disappointing.
After supper it was time for the BBC Proms with a performance of Rachmaninov's second piano concerto on Radio 3 for me and Prokofiev's third piano concerto on telly performed by Isata Kanneh Mason, for Clare. Then we watched highlights on S4C from the Welsh National Eisteddfod, being held this year at Boduan on the Llyn Peninsula. Marvellous to be able to watch if you can't actually be there.
The kids sent us anniversary greetings on WhatsApp, and I had a phone call with Rachel as well. A Sunday free from leading worship was unexpected, but nevertheless an appreciated gift.
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