None the worse for wear

I slept better, and yesterday's progress has been maintained, although I'm still coughing a great deal as my lungs are still congested. Ruth rang up to ask if I was willing to continue being a Daily Office contributor after Mother Frances leaves, and I said I would. She's recruited Pearlin to cover the empty Saturday slot, which is very good news - four lay people and two clerics making it happen. 

She also emailed the text of next week's prayers, so I started preparing the text and writing a reflection, which came very quickly as I saw a detail in the day's Gospel reading which I'd never seen before - Jesus giving Peter's fevered mother-in-law a hand to get to her feet. Any physical contact between a man and a woman not of the same family is forbidden by the Torah as I understand it. So the very first chapter of Mark's Gospel speaks of the way Jesus wasn't bothered by the constraints of the law if compassion was needed. No wonder he soon acquired a bad reputation with the rule-keepers.

I walked to the Post Office to mail a spare lens cap to Kath as Rhiannon has lost the one on her camera exactly the same size as my HX300. I was none the worse doing this and cooked lunch when I got home then slept for an hour. Clare needed help to turn the mattress on the double bed before I went out for a walk, but a had a long coughing fit before I could so this. Once I started walking in the fresh air however the coughing subsided somewhat, and I revived. By the evening it stopped altogether. I walked over ten thousand steps today, four fifths of my daily target. I could have done more but was satisfied to discover I am not worse for wear after the past few taxing days.

I continued watching the rest of 'Wolf' on iPlayer, skipping through the over-long melodramatic parts, without losing track of the complex investigation and eventual revelation about the culprits. Disappointed to discover there's has to be a series two to complete part of the story. Interesting to see locations in the Wye Valley, Chepstow, Newport and Cardiff Bay distributed throughout. Oddly anachronistic to hear Gwent Constabulary referred to as Monmouthshire Constabulary, but then it is fiction. It didn't work by amplifying the horrific elements of a distressing story of home invasion and hostage taking - straight from the school of thought that says if it can be shown it must be shown, leaving nothing to the imagination.