Weekend domestic pleasures

Overcast all day, but dry. Pancakes for breakfast. Hilary popped around with a bag of tiny black grapes she harvested from the prolific vine which is a feature of the Robin Hood pub, which shares a boundary wall with the church. Clare wants to have a go at making grape and apple jelly. In the bag as well were several cooking apples. Hilary's appearance reminded me that I've not yet harvested the rest of the crab apples on the church yard tree, which has successfully survived transplantation from the Rectory garden. 

I went to St Catherine's straightaway to collect the crop, and was surprised to find the building open, and full of worshippers clad in white garments whose borders are decorated with banks of red gold and green. the Eritrean Orthodox church community diaspora, with the sound of sacred chant in the ancient Coptic tradition coming from the sanctuary within. The community gathers at Michaelmass each year for a long prayer vigil. In previous years they have been in St German's, but this year was not possible due to an afternoon concert there, so the gathering has come to St Catherine's instead. 

Canton parish churches host several expatriate congregations; St Luke's welcomes weekly a Romanian Orthodox congregation, Serbian Orthodox in Eastertide, and St John's hosts a monthly Adventist prayer vigil on a Saturday, part of an African Adventist mission to ex-pats in the UK. The Russian Orthodox Exarchate congregation worshipped at St John's during covid, but has returned to the Nazareth House chapel in Cathays since then.

Anyway, I stripped the crab apple tree of fruit, except for a couple of top branches which I left for birds and squirrels, a pound and a quarter. I returned, chopped them up and stripped them of stalks ready for cooking. While I was out, Clare had stripped the grapes of stalks, and they all went into the preserving pan together, to simmer for a couple of hours. I cooked a veggie dish with Canelli beans and Quinoa for our lunch. 

Clare cleaned the yard while I cooked and noticed the drain outside the kitchen was full of leaves and caked silt. Most she managed to scoop out. I dislodged the rest with a high pressure hose, all except a mass of white stuff clinging to the side of the drain, which needed chipping off. Chunks of it floated, but could be flushed away with persistence. It's congealed fat accumulated over years un-noticed. We're pretty careful about not disposing of oily residues down the sink, wiping the frying pan with kitchen roll paper, adding it to the food waste bin, but traces of fat over time, leaving the sink drainpipe and flowing into an external drain exposed to the elements not going directly into the sewer will cause problems eventually. At least our domestic fatberg hasn't blocked the drain. To be sure it doesn't, I poured a few ounces of caustic soda crystals down the drain, and left it to work for a couple of hours.

After we'd eaten, I set about bread making, in order to bake a small loaf to take with me on my visit to sister June tomorrow. The dough rose well, and I was able to put it in the baking tins for the final rising before going to Tesco's to but Welsh cakes for her as well, but they didn't have any. Fortunately Iceland nearby did have some in stock, and at a reasonable price. 

There must have been a football match going on in Leckwith stadium, as roads were congested and loudly amplified voices, and the sound of a cheering crowd competed with the noise of cars at Canton Cross. On approaching, I thought the noise emanated from one of the neighbourhood pubs, hosting World Cup Rugby on their giant TV screens until I could hear that the sound reverberated far and wide not just from particular buildings.

The bread was ready for the over by the time I got back, and turned out to my satisfaction, blessing the house with its aroma. The stewed grape and crab apple mix was ready for straining and Clare got out the straining bag, filled it with the mixture and mounted it on the rungs of an upside down stool so it could drip into a large bowl overnight. The preserving pan had acquired a layer of carbonised fruit skin, and took a long time to scrape off and bring the surface to a shine again with a brillo pad.

After supper, I spent the entire evening watching episodes of a new series on Walter Presents called 'The Bank Hacker' taking advantage of a relaxing weekend free of duties.

Call of Duty - Israeli style

Another day of sunshine, clouds and gusts of wind. With no sermon to prepare for Sunday, I had time to  prepare texts for next Sunday's Eucharist after breakfast. Thanks to a tip off from Kath, I bought a tee shirt for Clare at the online Abba Voyage merchandise site. No idea how long it will take to turn up in the post. The only one she fancied had the logo 'Dancing Queen' emblazoned on the front according to Kath. I hope I picked the right size!

Then a long walk in the park before a late snack lunch, and got supper ready for cooking. While I waited for Clare's return, I watched another episode of Manayek. She enjoyed the concert, although she needed to wear ear-plugs and wear sunglasses to cope with the loudness of the music and intensity of the light show. A good reason why I wouldn't bother to attend that sort of spectacle. I often find cinema surround sound so uncomfortably loud that it detracts from my enjoyment of the movie. My hearing is still fairly good but I don't want it to worsen. I still have tinnitus in my right ear since we watched the 2001 Monaco Grand Prix motor race from a millionaire's high rooftop garden near the Casino. We were given ear plugs but one just wouldn't fit in my right ear, and it's never been the same since.

We ate supper while listening to the Archers. In a recent plot development a soirée has been arranged by a young character for a group reading of the book 'Lark Rise to Candleford' involving several villagers and this prompts the idea of repeating this at the up-coming Harvest supper. Over the past few weeks the BBC drama department has been promoting this performance as a stand alone Sunday afternoon play, just as it did with a village play based on the Canterbury Tales three years ago. It's an interesting project for the cast of the world's longest standing soap opera to take on. 

After we'd eaten I finished the final two episodes of Manayek, a series of ten episodes, and was pretty impressed that considering six or eight episodes per series is the norm, it held my attention throughout. It was a police procedural of a very complex kind, featuring corruption at every level of the police force, judiciary and politicians. It involved investigations involving several separate departments - Local Policing, CID, International Crime, Anti-terrorism, State Security and the Prosecutor's Office, each with their own hierarchy, ambitions and betrayals, secrets to keep, and no mutual accountability. Corruption and serious crime exposed, and then covered up for fear that the whole system would lose credibility and collapse. Too big to fail, as the saying goes.

As in UK anti-corruption drama series 'Call of Duty' much was made of interviews and conversations with colleagues, but with relatively little violence or exciting chase sequences, and almost nothing to do with sex, which makes quite a change, or religion for that matter, and may reflect the Israeli market for which it was made. Interesting to see the diverse range of characters portraying police officers representing the plurality of the Israeli secular state. 

It seems there's a second series, but as this has only recently popped up on Walter Presents, it may be some time before there's a second series follow-up. The only other Israeli series I've watched was 'Shtisel' some years back, about the life and loves of a Jerusalem Haredi extended family with inter-generational tension and social ambition in play, all very bourgeois in its way. Manayek portrays the dark underside of revered public institutions.

Missed tree

Before going to bed last night, I laid the table for breakfast with flowers, a candle and a card in honour of Clare's birthday. I woke up at seven thirty and posted the link to Morning Prayer on WhatsApp just before Thought for the Day, then booked porridge for breakfast, just before Clare appeared.

First task of the day, to add a detail to this week's Sway and finalise for sending. Next I booked an eleven o'clock slot visit in the Council's queue management schedule, and a drove to Bessemer Road with an assortment of stuff for disposal. I arrived early, but it wasn't busy, so I was admitted, and on my way home before my appointment  was due. Next, a trip to the GP surgery to collect my medication prescription and get it made up at the pharmacy across the road. I also booked a phone appointment for next week to have a discussion with the doctor about dealing with my nuisance wart beneath my jaw.

Clare was preparing an early lunch before travelling. She let me cook her omelette, which was laden with fresh parsley, which arrived in this week's veggie bag. Then at one she set out for Cardiff Central on foot, as she felt the need of exercise before the train trip. I made lunch with what was left over from yesterday's meal, then distributed this week's Sway using Mailchimp. I sat in the lounge to check my news feed, and unexpectedly fell asleep for over an hour. It was half past four by the time I went for a walk in the park. The first traces of autumnal colour are appearing in the trees now, due to the recent rain and wind bringing colder blasts of air.

News of the vandalistic felling of the Sycamore Gap tree on Hadrian's Wall drove me to trawl through my photo archive of local parks to find a picture of a tree which stood in the middle of the Pontcanna allotments southern boundary fence. I had a picture of it 2019, probably the last time it was in leaf. Then it died of disease and over several years of weathering, lost its bark and thinner branches as it dried out.  Its gaunt silvery skeleton in a row of more modest live trees was very striking. Then, one day last year, it was felled and the impact on the skyline was shocking. It took some getting used to. I can't understand why I didn't take a photo of it as it was so dramatic. Before and after photos would have been visually interesting, but won't now be possible. What a shame!

I spent the entire evening watching more episodes of Manayek. Clare called from her hotel room to say goodnight after the Abba show. A good time was had by all, I reckon. And so to bed.

Need for boundaries

A windy day, with dark clouds moving at speed, clearing for a while then re-forming, with occasional light showers. More like March than Michaelmas. After breakfast I drove to St Peter's in Fairwater to celebrate the Eucharist with twenty two others, and join people for coffee and a chat in the hall afterwards. Amazing that this midweek service is so consistently well attended, and there's double that number on Sundays. I'm scheduled to be there on Sundays a couple of times in the next quarter without having to rush away at the end to get to St Luke's for another service. Something to look forward to, as it's only ten minutes drive from home instead of 20-25 minutes from Roath, where I've been on most Sundays this last few months.

On returning home, I retrieved this week's veggie bag from Chapter, then cooked lunch and did this week's grocery shopping at the Co-op. The till staff were talking with concern about news of a break-in at Tesco Metro ar Canton Cross last night. Money tills were broken into for their cash float content, and vape display shelves were broken and emptied. Thieves entered through the roof of the rear warehouse. Damage repair will be more costly than the value of what was stolen. "It'll be us next." said the one of them, dreading the prospect.

While Clare went out to shop at Beanfreaks I made next week's Morning Prayer video slideshow and uploaded it to YouTube. She returned with a broken wheel on the shopping trolley, sadly un-repairable. Luckily, things fell apart outside our next door neighbour's house on the return trip. We now have several broken un-repairable items to take to the tip so I'll book an early afternoon visit to the Bessemer Close recycling centre tomorrow after I've taken Clare to catch her train to London for her birthday trip to see 'Abba - Voyage'.

I went out to buy Clare a birthday card. She can't decide what she'd really like, nor can I guess. When you have as much as you need, health and freedom are the things the matter and those can't be commoditised, only looked after carefully. I found an unusual sixteen month 2024 calendar with pictures of Wales, as a starter gift. Still looking for inspiration for something else. The birthday cards were  for the most part were either sickly sentimental or rude, but I found one that will make her laugh. She was having an early supper when I returned, ready to go out for a Plygain choir practice.

Walking up Cowbridge Road from the card shop, I noticed for the first time that Calvary Baptist Church looked different. Then I realised that the front entrance has acquired a set of stylish simple iron  railings and a gate to enclose its forecourt. It seems to be an interesting outcome to covid times.

Outside Tesco's a hundred yards further up the street on the opposite side are some fancy shaped public benches. For ages, these have been frequented by drinkers who prefer to buy supermarket booze, mainly cans of beer and socialise with their mates in the street as they wouldn't be welcome in nearby pubs with outdoor seating. Generally speaking, it's been a harmless enough feature of local street life. Lock-down emptied the streets, but once it was permissible to be outdoors for a while, in an effort to enforce social distancing, the Council surrounded the seats with Heras fencing. 

Street drinkers moved to Calvary Baptist Church which is private property outside the public realm where police enforced dispersal is required. The forecourt was left rubbish strewn and smelling like a toilet. It can't have been pleasant for church cleaners, who'd have enough problems with sanitizing the interior before and after services. Church members would be reluctant to approach, let alone challenge drinkers' behaviour. 

The Heras fencing stayed around the benches for a while after covid restrictions were lifted, but street drinkers have now returned to their old haunt, though it cannot be the same at the moment, as a block of low rise apartments is being built next door to the supermarket and a site security fence blocks much of the pavement next to the public benches. It's not a place where it's easy to sit and watch passers by over a can of beer for the time being. The facade of Calvary Baptist has been modernised at some time in the past fifty years. At that time I reckon the accessible forecourt was constructed, making for a welcoming facade. The passage of time however, has shown that church railings still have their uses.

Until Clare returned from singing, I spent a couple of hours watching episodes of a new Israeli crimmie on 'Walter Presents' about a complex investigation into corruption in the police force called Manayek. The dialogue is fast paced. Concentration is required to keep up with the subtitles. Quite demanding in fact, but the story is engaging. Then I read for a while before turning in.

Sugo experiment

More sunshine today! That does me good. After breakfast Clare went off to her study group in Penarth and I started work on recording the Morning Prayer I'd been preparing. To my horror I found that I'd selected the reading for the day before and had to revise what I had prepared before I could get going. I thought it was meant to be St Francis' day and wrote a reflection about him. Instead of writing another from scratch I modified it, to reflect his devotion to Christ's Passion, which was relevant as the Gospel reading for the day is about the betrayal of Jesus. A job that should have taken an hour took two and a half, and I ended up late to start cooking lunch.

In last week's veggie bag there was some celery, which gave me the idea of preparing a pasta sauce in the way I once saw Stanley Tucci doing it, in a foodie documentary visit to Florence. He took sticks of celery, carrots and onion, chopped them finely and fried them together in oil, and only when cooked did he add the tomato passata. Clare arrived home just at the right time as I was wondering how to chop everything finely, got a little used food processor out from the back of the cooking equipment cupboard and showed me how to use it. 

The three veg mixture was just right for cooking. Separately, I cooked red lentils with a lot of garlic, and then added the cooked veg, and divided the lot into two portions, so that I could have my sugo with passata, and she could have hers without. We had couscous instead of gluten free pasta with it, as the meal was running late and couscous takes a few minutes. It tasted good for both of us. A successful culinary experiment, destined to be repeated.

I did an update to Sway then walked into town later in the afternoon to buy train tickets for a visit to my sister next weekend. I had to renew my Senior discount rail Card to get the best price. I wonder if I use it enough in a year to justify the outlay. I hope so anyway. It halves the journey time and isn't as taxing as the coach trip when timing matters, but it's so frustrating when there's a rail strike, and then a coach becomes the only option. I then called into John Lewis' to see if I could find a long handled brush for back scrubbing in the shower, but there was nothing of the sort to be found, but I did find one in Boots' in the Grand Arcade, just what I wanted.

I had a few emails to deal with after supper, one of them contained the double job profile for the two vacancies in the Ministry Area team. Well thought out and presented with perfect sunny day pictures of the parks. The area all looks bright and shiny posh, in a way that hardly reflects the working class nature of some parts of the area. There's little in the visuals to reflect the typical ethnic and cultural diversity of its inhabitants, even if it is mentioned in print. I hope it attracts priests who can understand and work with this.

I became aware a few days ago that Penhill Road would be closed overnight from late evening, so when I had finished work, I went out with my Sony Alpha 68 to see what I could see. There was slow moving traffic up to the lights, to early for the road closure to take effect, but there were a dozen large vans and lorries parked in the bus lane to-be and noise from the corner of the junction with Llandaff Road. A hole was being dug in the pavement next to the lights, and all of the road except one lane was cordoned off with temporary traffic lights controlling flow. I suppose it might be something to do with upgrading the traffic communications infrastructure which operates the traffic lights at the junction. 

The big tidy-up prior to re-opening the entire refurbished road to traffic has yet to take place. I got a few atmospheric pictures of traffic queuing in the dark, but my efforts at capturing the three quarters full moon were in vain. I couldn't remember how to tweak key settings manually for moon photos, so nothing worked. Standing out in the Fields trying to capture traffic and the moon from a vantage point in darkness were a wasted effort. All I got were shoes covered in wet grass. There were teenagers still out there, lying in the dewy grass chatting, with the air temperature down to thirteen degrees. I don't know how they can do it.

Home again, some photo uploads and edits, then time for bed.

Parliament under scrutiny

A sunny day with occasion short cloudbursts, more like spring than autumn. After breakfast, I drove Ann to the station for her return journey to Felixstowe, then responded to new incoming messages, sent out the readings for next Sunday and tweaked next week's Sway edition before doing my share of the housework. Then I wrote to my GP about a repeat prescription or alternative treatment for the facial wart which hasn't gown but also hasn't shrunk in the year since I last consulted a doctor about it.

Clare cooked delicious hake for lunch. As I didn't get quite enough sleep I took an armchair siesta after eating and slept for an hour, then went for my usual circuit of the park. Having prepared Morning Prayer for St Francis' Day I worked on a reflection to go with it ready to record when I get quiet time to do so.

In the evening we watched an interesting documentary about painter Henri Matisse on BBC Four, and then Laura Kuenssberg's account of the resignation of Boris Johnston and the premiership of Liz Truss. 'State of Chaos' has been a valuable account of the past four years of Conservative government, through interviews with participants in the drama, giving their own interpretation of events, with Kuenssberg as story teller. 

The bottom line according to Simon McDonald head of the diplomatic service who resigned in 2020 is that despite a chaotic and messy process, the British constitutional system succeeded in dispatching two successive Prime Ministers unable to govern with the confidence of Parliament and the public, and see through a change in Head of State and Prime Minister in the same week without this being due to a coup d'état. Evidence of the robustness and resilience of a rules based system based on historical precedence without there being one binding formal written legal document 

Just as well it worked in my opinion, as the established way of conducting political life in Britain, flawed and complex though it may be, started to deteriorate after Prime Minister David Cameron announced Brexit referendum and over the years since then continued to spiral into this state of chaos in which the government lost both integrity and credibility.  It has exposed the unfitness for office of elected members whose self serving motives, moral weaknesses or sheer incompetence have contributed to the chaos, and hopefully these will not be re-elected if they dare stand for Parliament again.

Will it be possible to reverse this decline in Parliamentary relationships and discourse when a new and hopefully different Parliament is elected next year? I hope and pray it will.

AI abuses teen girls

I felt the benefit of going to bed half an hour earlier than usual. It rained again in the night and was drying out by the time we had breakfast. The sky remained overcast for most of the day. I drove to St Edwards to celebrate the Eucharist, and was surprised when a lady accosted me outside and said how she appreciated my sermons - well thought out, informative, relevant - she said. I'm not sure I ever recall getting feedback like that before. I think she must be an ex-teacher to deliver such a concise appraisal. It's certainly what I aim for, and wonder how often how it comes across, but it's not the sort of thing you'd ever ask anyone, as if you'd fish for complements. 

Much to my inner embarrassment, several people thanked me for today's sermon after the service. It seems that a few fresh insights which occurred to me were fresh for my listeners too. More often than not, people leaving  church say shyly as you greet them "Nice service Father" and that's all. You do the best you can to convey insights that make an impression on you from the texts you work with. You trust God to do the rest and it's enough to know you've not upset anyone or caused them to walk out in protest.

The roads were quiet and I was home for lunch by half past twelve. I found a small bottle of Prosecco in the back of the fridge, enough for two glasses, and opened it for Clare and Ann to drink in honour of their forthcoming birthdays, while the veggies were roasting. Then a circuit of Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. 

At the far end, near Sophia Gardens there was a fund raising event for the Noah's Ark children's hospital appeal going on, for which, unusually dozens of cars were parked on the grass near to a long side-less tent. I wasn't sure whether the event was to start later, or was winding down after an early start. The river level had risen sufficiently due to recent rain for water to flow across the entire length of the weir. After a dry day it started raining heavily after dark, so I imagine the river will be even more swollen tomorrow.

After supper, we watched Antiques Roadshow. and then the final episode of 'The Woman in the Wall' with an emotionally dramatic conclusion, albeit a little long drawn out to my taste. Whether the element of the story-line about baby trafficking in the days of the Magdalene laundries in Ireland has any truth in it, I have no idea, but the portrayal of cruelty towards young women consigned to them reflected the reality of much harsher times and moral values lacking in compassion for the vulnerable and respect for their dignity, all in the name of a perverse notion of penitence and amendment of life, based on false spirituality which did great damage to the credibility of the church and Christianity in the 20th century.

A new story breaking in Spain this evening concerns the use of AI imaging to take photos of teenage girls posted on social media and re-render them naked. The perpetrators are young teenage boys finding that the lewd masturbatory fantasies common at their age can be turned into a perceptible reality and circulated on social media. Heaven know where such photos will end up. Needless to say, the girls and their parents are beside themselves with anxiety about the consequences of this invasion of personal privacy.

The police are investigating, and those mischievous lads are facing serious criminal charges as a result. Hopefully this will help to deter young people's use of social media for self-display and narcissism, and consider more seriously what is the real value of communicating virtually when person to person encounter is so much more natural and fruitful. Did AI designers see this coming? What do they propose to do to prevent such abuse from happening in the first place.

 

Matinée Première

A mild and sunny day, with waffles for breakfast. Afterwards I printed off tomorrow's sermon, then started on next week's edition of Sway, Sunday readings to go with it and a couple of new parish publicity pieces, as I was feeling fresh and had enough concentration to work accurately. Some days I'm too distracted for it to be worthwhile making the effort. Other days, no problem. Bad days might be due to lack of good sleep. It seems to vary in a way I can't make sense of. 

After lunch we drove to the Bay for the matinée première of the WNO's 'La Traviata' at the Millennium Center featuring Australian-Mauritian Stacey Alleaume as Violetta and Korean David Junghoon Kim as Rudolfo two well matched singers in leading tragic roles, delivering an emotionally powerful performance with ease. It was an impressive first outing for a WNO standard opera. I think the stage production is much the same as it was when I've seen it before twice at least, but with some effective changes in the presentation of later scenes.

It was pleasant to leave the theatre in daylight and good mild weather, a couple of hours before sunset. After the drive home, I walked around the block for twenty minutes to stretch my legs. Then we went to Stefano's for supper - a festive meal for Clare and Ann whose birthdays are within a week of each other. After a glass of wine and opera chat, an early night.

Moorhen family reunion

I didn't sleep all that well, but it was good to wake up to sunshine, and get up late for breakfast. Ann had my bed last night, so I shared the double bed with Clare, which we've grown unused to since both of us became noisy restless sleepers some years ago, before my five rounds of surgery. 

After breakfast Clare and Ann went into town. I'd started writing my Sunday sermon and promised to join them when I finished, but it took me until lunchtime, so I had a snack on my own before going out to get some wine.

Then I went to Thompson's Park and for the first time I spotted four moorhens on the grass, two juvenile and two adult. I've seen the two juveniles together before, and one of the adults, but this is the first time I have seen what I presume is the parents and siblings together in the same place. None of the photos I took do justice to this family moment. 

I'm keen to tell Jasmine who was with us back in mid June when we first saw together and photographed the nest the adult couple were maintaining in the ornamental pond. It's a pity I must send her several photos rather than a representative one that captures the occasion.

Clare cooked a splendid chickpea curry for supper. Afterwards, Ann and I stayed at the table talking ethics and history over glasses of wine for several hours while Clare went and read a book. All too soon it was bedtime again.

Weekend visitor

I woke up just before Thought for the Day, and posted this week's Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp, and then had to listen to it on catch-up, as it came on early. Clare had her first flute lesson after breakfast. I went to the St John's Eucharist with this week's Foodbank offering.  Area Dean Dyfrig Lloyd celebrated for the seven of us present. It was good to catch up with him, and take a photo of him that I can use on a future edition of Sway. 

When I got home, I completed work on this week's edition, and then received a WhatsApp message and a separate email from Mother Francis, with a link to a YouTube video message, thanking the churches for her farewell gifts, and then showing us around Holy Island. I emailed and asked her for a photograph of herself in situ to include with the video link in Sway. It was a welcome just-in-time addition to this week's Sway.

We had a snack lunch, as Sister in Law Ann was due to arrive mid afternoon, and would need a proper meal. Then I sent out this week's Sway mailshot. I'm still puzzled about how to include new email addresses in the mailshot list. I added Fr Dyfrig's last week, but he's not receiving it. Can't figure it out yet. I collected Ann from the station at half past three, fifteen minutes late, after circulating in the car park, full to overflowing as many people were waiting for a London train delayed due to a railway suicide causing traffic chaos on westbound lines.

After a cup of tea and a slice of bara brith, I cooked a dish of chicken with canelli beans for supper, then popped down to Tesco's for milk and wine while the rice and vegetables cooked. When we'd eaten Clare took Ann with her to Conway Methodist Church for a Canton Community Choir practice, just for fun. I designed a mini poster for Sway to advertise St Catherine's Harvest Family Service in two week's time. This took me quite a while. It's not straightforward, creating a slide in Libre Office Impress. Something more I need to learn how to do properly and promptly. 

Then, as Clare and Ann returned from singing, I went out and walked in the dark for three quarters of an hour, before joining them for a drink and a chat to end quite a busy day.

Voices from history brought to life

Another day of rain and wind until mid-afternoon. I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's with six others. Hilary sold me a jar of raspberry jam, made with fruit from another church member's garden. She told us that Mother Frances had bequeathed the church garden several roses given to her, plus a crab apple tree, which has settle in nicely after being transplanted from the Rectory. Last week she returned from holiday to oversee the packing and departure of the removal van. When it arrived in Northumberland it was necessary to wait until low tide before crossing the causeway from the mainland to Holy Island. A very different world from urban Cardiff. I hope she'll be happy and have a fruitful ministry there.

After a cuppa in the hall, rain drumming on the roof, Roger gave me a lift to Chapter to collect this week's veggie bag, as it was still raining. Then, I didn't get soaked through walking just a third of the distance home from there. There was mackerel  to cook for lunch - filleted for Clare, smoked for me. 

I read for a while when Clare went to Beanfreaks. Fortunately, the rain eased off by the time it was my turn to go out for the week's grocery shopping at the Coop. Job done, I went for a walk in the park before supper. In the evening we watched 'The Repair Shop' and then historian Lucy Worsley's programme about the Blitz, called 'Blitz Spirit' telling the story through a selection of extracts from diaries and memoirs written by individuals who lived through it all. A fascinating account, backed with newsreel footage from the time and dramatic monologues reconstructed from the original texts. 

Worsley showed convincingly how the notion of 'Blitz Spirit' was a product of government propaganda aimed at boosting public morale. Civil defence preparations proved inadequate in the face of the onslaught on working class communities in the Docklands and East End of London. Volunteer team work and citizens taking initiatives in response to unforeseen emergencies and crises brought people together, sometimes despite the government, but class divisions were sometimes exacerbated by the difference in exposure to the bombing on the part of the rich and poor. It was the survival instinct of ordinary citizens in response to crisis that forged a lasting resilience which elites and government could exploit in propaganda that was key to shaping the course of the war. 

We tend to forget how poverty and social injustice were endemic in pre-war Britain, just as they had been in Spain in the Civil War years before. Britain had its fascist and Nazi sympathisers in positions of power but the Blitz marked the eclipse of their open influence on the course of events. In so many ways in the face of such chaos, things could have turned out so differently.

Baking day

Clouds and drizzle on and off for most of the day. This morning I started making bread, but made a mistake with Clare's instruction note - she'd gone off to her study group when I got started. The dough I made was hard to knead. It turned out that I'd only used two third of the correct volume of water for the amount of flour, but before diagnosing the problem, I left the mass to leaven, which it did very slowly on the back of the stove while I was cooking lunch. 

After we'd eaten, I had to knead an extra 250ml of water into the rising dough, which was also hard work, to get it to the right consistency. Then it had to be left to rise for another hour, before being kneaded a third time before putting into the baking tins. Then I went out to walk in the drizzle for an hour.

We had a rendezvous at four at the regional headquarters of Barnardo's in Grand Avenue Ely. Clare has decided to have a go at learning the flute, and is borrowing Rhiannon's instrument for a while, and is going to take some lessons. Reading piano music with her worsening eyesight is becoming increasingly difficult, but a single line on a stave is much easier, so she can still read music for singing and hopefully for learning to play the flute. Anyway, one the costume designers Kath works with had a reason to come to Cardiff today, so she collected the flute and brought it with her for Clare to collect. The plan worked well.

When we got back the dough was ready to be cut up and put into the loaf tins to rise and go into the oven. After they were baked, they looked OK, but I was still concerned that the texture might be uneven because of my early error. When I cut a slice after they'd cooled down, I was relieved to find that the loaf sliced well without crumbling with the taste and texture it's meant to have. Lesson learned, hopefully.

Then I went out for a walk while Clare went off to her prayer group. It was dry when I left the house, so I didn't bother with a raincoat. A big mistake. I was only ten minutes away from the house when it started to drizzle, and gusts of wind made it worse. I was quite damp when I reached home. 

After supper, I watched the second part of Katya Adler's BBC 1 documentary 'Living next door to Putin'. It covered Russia's relationship with Estonia and Finland tonight. It was presented in a most interesting way to highlight the personal impact on the Ukraine on a selection of individuals living on the front line. An impressive piece of journalism. I'd be surprised if this didn't win an award.

Chaos recalled

Overnight bouts of rain petered out after sunrise, the clouds dispersed and a day of sunshine ensued, with gusts of wind. Slightly cooler, but quite refreshing when I finally went out for my afternoon walk in the park through Llandaff Fields and down to the river. The woodland path wasn't as muddy as I expected, so the wind did its job, drying out a long line of washing as well in the afternoon.

After breakfast, housework, then the rest of the morning spent on preparing this week's Sway edition and issuing the relevant reading texts for Sunday's Eucharist. I also finished recording and editing Morning Prayer audio for Michelmass Eve, and after lunch made the video slide show for posting to YouTube. A satisfying four hours worth of work before my daily round of exercise. 

I was annoyed to discover while editing that I'm only getting an audio signal delivered to one earphone of my headset. It took me a while to eliminate possible reasons. Was it a possible software glitch either in the Audacity sound editor I use, or the Windows operating system it works on? No. Was it an earphone fault? I needed to test them with the same sound file running on my phone and the Chromebook, to find out the headphones aren't faulty. Only one conclusion, the laptop headphone socket is faulty. It's happened before, and then righted itself, then started playing up again. 

With a set of Bluetooth headphones I'd get stereo, but is it worth the expense? The alternative is to shift to my office workstation upstairs, but it's not such a comfortable environment, it's a long way to the kitchen, and less convenient for a short break to make a drink, or even multi-tasking, making a meal while writing or editing. There's also the trouble which arises when passing through three different doorways plus stairs in between office and kitchen, and forgetting what you've set out to do. Yes, it really does happen to me nowadays. Anyway, I checked out my desktop workstation after supper, and can do all the editing work I need to, and listen to audio via headphones or through my office sound system.

Clare is thinking of spending some time in voluntary work, and went to visit the day centre for refugees that has recently moved into St German's Church Hall while work is done on the place normally used. It's still fairly new and temporary, so there's not been much contact yet with any church members, and they'd welcome more interest in their work, so I must see what I can do about this when I'm there next. 

This evening we watched the second part of Laura Kuenssberg's documentary 'State of Chaos', this week's episode was about the events of Boris Johnson's time as Prime Minister before and during the pandemic and the disturbing fanaticism and influence of special adviser Dominic Cummings, determined to subvert the work of civil servants government institutions and the established constitutional order. Johnson gave away too much of his power to Cummings, and defended him when his behaviour was indefensible. Doing this he undermined his own position and it contributed significantly to his downfall. But, the story of the political chaos in Britian over the last five years has yet another chapter to tell, and that's for next week.

Rachel rang up to tell us that Jasmine has been in hospital for an operation on her jaw, to fix a problem due to the wearing of a joint, which has gone untreated until now. She'll be recovering for a few weeks and then, hopefully, back to playing her saxophone once more. We sent her 'get well' messages via Instagram's Direct Messaging facility, one of her favourite chat channel like millions of teenagers world wide.

Hidden but now revealed

Rain for much of the day, quite heavy on times. Owain returned from his gig at two in the morning, and we are expecting him to leave after breakfast at the same time we were leaving for church, but his big toe joint had swelled up badly overnight that he couldn't walk on it, so he stayed at lot longer than intended.  The physical demands of house moving this past few weeks have taken a toll on him. He can rest and be looked after while he's here. It's good to have his company.

It was raining when I drove to St German's and raining when I returned. There were thirty five of us, the same as usual, few were put off by the weather. After we'd eaten and Owain had rested his foot a while longer, the swelling had reduced enough for him to make the return journey. I dropped him off at the station in time for a four thirty train, and was pleased to hear later that he'd arrived without incident.

Parking in the street was almost full when I got back from church, I was lucky to find a different space after dropping Owain off at the station. I was due to go to St Peter's Fairwater to officiate at Evensong and Benediction at six and decided to take the 61 bus instead as the rain had slackened off, and I know it's only a short walk from Fairwater Green to the church. I checked the timetable and went to the bus stop just as a 61 arrived. More by luck than judgement! There were only three of us for the service, but I still enjoyed it anyway, as it was a revised version of the Church in Wales Evening Office I've not used before. I had a lift home and arrived in time for the Archers and supper. Then I went out and walked for an hour, as it got dark, taking my umbrella with me as it was drizzling with the odd short burst of heavy rain.

I settled down then to finish watching 'Sisterhood' and the penultimate episode of 'The Woman in the Wall' both of which had an unusual number of strong female actors, and powerful emotional content, the former made in Iceland, and the latter in Ireland. An interesting sign of the times, and telling stories about crimes concealed and coming to light after many years. Interesting too as yet another broadcasting personality is accused of offences committed earlier in his rise to fame.

Damp Saturday

Rain overnight, cloudy all day with occasional showers, but still mind. After a pancake breakfast, Clare went into town to shop for halogen light bulbs. I prepared and recorded a Morning Prayer for the week after next. Then I cooked habas con chorizo with rice for lunch, the vegan version as well as the proper one. I had a snooze after eating, and went out for a walk when the rain stopped. There were dozens of swifts foraging in the sky over both sides of the Taff despite the drizzle. It must be a time of month when midges are plentiful.

Owain had arrived when I got back. He's come over to deejay at a venue in City Road where he used to hang out with music mates when he lived over here, and didn't stay long. We'll see him for breakfast in the morning before he returns to complete the final stage of moving into his new home - transporting the bed mattress, packing and shifting his collection of thousands of vinyl record albums. A major operation that may take half a dozen trips to complete, given DIY removal. 

It's lovely to see him looking so happy and relaxed, even though he's pretty tired as a result of his labours last week and the week before. He's finding that his neighbours on the long corridor of apartments are all nice friendly people. One of them is a fellow deejay whom he's known for some years. The caretaker is French speaking North African which gives him pleasure. It think it's quite a diverse neighbourhood he's living in, which suits him well.

After supper, I spent time looking through old photos I'd digitized, printed tomortow' sermon, and then watched a couple of episodes of 'Sisterhood' before turning in for the night. It rained for much of the evening.

Friday guilt trip

A cool overcast start to the day, but as the morning warmed up sunshine slowly dispersed the cloud, a bit more autumnal in feel, but pleasant. After breakfast I did some more work on my Sunday sermon, then helped Clare with preparing vegetables to add into the salmon soup she'd started. She came with a whole salmon from the market, already filleted for cutting into portions to freeze. The head and bones provide the substance for soup making. And very good it was too. 

After lunch, I walked over to Aldi to buy some wine, walnuts, chorizo and smoked mackerel. In front of me in the checkout queue I was surprised to meet Paul Gregory, a long standing member of St Michael's in Cathays. We first met in the year I returned to Cardiff, as he was one of the Parish churchwardens in the Rectorial Benefice of Cardiff I was appointed to. Great to see him again, looking well, and as old as me.

I returned home to deposit my shopping then went out again for a circuit of Thompson's Park, to complete my exercise quota for the day. After supper, I found an watchable Icelandic crime drama series on Channel Four Walter Presents called 'Sisterhood', about three teenage girls in a random encounter with a fourth girl they don't know, who is in the course of running away from her dysfunctional mother. The runaway dies, and the girls conspire to dump her body, cover up what happens and live with the guilt. Twenty five years on, the runaway's remains are found, a cold case disappearance becomes as suspicious death and the trio have to deal with what emerges. A morality play on the theme: 'Be sure your sins will find you out', played out in suburban domestic detail. Only two and a half of six episodes so far, in a Scandi drama that's more a guilt trip than a crimmie.

And so to bed.

An unappreciated history

The shy has returned to being overcast today. I posted the YouTube link to WhatsApp when I woke up at eight, sent Amanda a birthday greeting, then got up for breakfast. Clare went into town shopping and I worked on completing this week's 'Sway' before driving to Danescourt to give Communion to Sandra. 

By the time I got back Clare had returned with three pounds of very ripe strawberries from the Market, and was cooking sausages for our lunch. After we'd eaten, we sat at the kitchen table together and detached the fruit from their greenery, ready for cooking. The house was graced for a while by the sweet scent of strawberry jam being made.

I went for a walk around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields, from the riverside path through the woods, I saw an egret on the opposite side and nearby a pair of goosanders which seems to be fishing often this far up river this year. Maybe they've established a new nesting site a half a mile further up than in previous years. Though most of the blackberries have been picked or withered away, there are still some that are ripening now and evening a sprinkling of flowers in the briar patches. I've not noticed this pattern before, but it may be due to the unusual summer weather conditions I guess.

When I returned, Clare was eating an early supper hastily as she was going out to another choir rehearsal at seven in Conway Methodist church with the local community choir. After eating I settled down to read, but then realised that the second half of Dan Snow's documentary 'How the Celts saved Britain' was being shown on BBC Four, this time telling the story of Saint Columba, the rise of Iona and evangelization of Scotland and Northumbria. The story of Saint Aidan and the founding of the missionary monastery on Lindisfarne was old. Very timely for viewers in West Cardiff Ministry Area, wondering about the place where Mother Frances will be working from now on. 

The story ended with the Synod of Whitby, and the end of the wave of Celtic Christian missionary initiative which transformed anarchic violent pagan Anglo Saxon Britain into a cultured civilized society. The dispute over the adoption of the Latin date for Easter as opposed to the Celtic, was resolved when King Oswiu adopted the Latin date, and Latin rite liturgical worship prevailed over the more diverse Celtic tradition which had much in common with Eastern Orthodoxy. After Whitby, the influence of Iona declined, Viking incursions decimated Celtic monasteries in Ireland and northern Britain. 

As Dan Snow reflected in conclusion. The Celts christianized the English, and then the English turned away from those to whom they owed their civilisation and their faith. Western Latin Christianity prevailed throughout the British Isles and Ireland thereafter. The Celtic fringes, as well as their local sanctuaries and saints, have reclaimed their own ethos and languages for worship, though somewhat overshadowed sadly, by dominant English culture and its Latin western roots.

After the programme, I read 'Battle for Spain' for an hour, and started nodding off, tireder than I realised. 

Questions of consumption

I woke up late to a clear sky and bright sun, warm but not humid. An excellent start to the day. I went to St Catherine's and celebrated the midweek Eucharist with ten others. After coffee and a chat I collected this week's veggie bag from Chapter returned home and cooked lunch. A big piece of coley for Clare and a pork chop for me, which I flavoured by cooking it with the remains of the chorizo I bought last week, and a large tomato from this week's veggie bag. 

Although I had a full night's sleep last night, I slept in the chair for over an hour after lunch, and woke up feeling refreshed, so I must have needed the extra. Then I went for a walk in Llandaff Fields. Clare was having supper early when I got back, as she was going to try out a choir with a small group that meets in the Mackintosh Centre in Roath, and was getting a lift. The group specialises in singing 'plygain' carols, a Welsh language folk tradition that may have originated before the reformation.

I spent the evening working on a sermon for Sunday next, decoding what seems like a negative attitude by St Paul towards vegetarians. I think he's recognising that some people are indecisive about their eating habits, because of where they are in their faith journey, yet to grow in confidence and maturity, unsure of the different influences and arguments they encounter. It has echoes of where we are today with talk about 'food miles' and carbon footprint attached to meat eating. What can we commit ourselves to, for the sake of the planet's health, not just our own?

Beneficial new limit

The sound of rain in the night and early morning, but by the time I got up at eight, it had stopped, and the cloud was slowly lifting. After breakfast, I listened to 'The Life Scientific with Jim al Khalili talking with Paul Murdin, the British astronomer whose application of measurement protocols from conventional old  Physics made possible the identification of a black hole, demonstrating the reality behind relativity theory which postulated they could exist.  It was an amazing observational breakthrough, but didn't earn him a Nobel Prize, as the work wasn't innovatory, just a thorough application of establish scientific method. He's also the author of many popular books on astronomy, aimed especially at young people. He was mentored and encouraged by the late great popularizer of astronomy Sir Patrick Moore when he was young.

Clare's study group arrived for their session and I went out to mail a birthday parcel for Amanda at the Post Office. Then I popped into the Coop opposite for some tea bags and bananas, and remembered a few other items from the weekly shopping list, and collected them. I had to beg a recyclable plastic bag for the bananas and succeeded in squeezing in the other items, though they nearly burst out on the way home. I sat in the front room and did some preparation work for the next weeks liturgical distribution, having time on my hand until the group finished. It's good to get ahead as it eases deadline pressure and reduces errors.

Clare cooked us tuna for lunch. Then, I went out and shopped for the remainder of the items on this week's grocery list that I hadn't remembered this morning. As I was nearing home, Clare came down the lane, about to go and buy all the items I was going to cross off the shopping list when I arrived. Just as well we met when we did!

I found an interesting item in today's news feed in the form of a press release from the Welsh Government about the 20mph speed limit which is being implemented in residential streets of cities, towns and villages across Wales next Sunday. It's a message of encouragement to Wales from the head of the Spanish national road safety monitoring organisation Alvaro Gomez. Spain introduced the 30kph limit in 2019, and has seen seen a significant drop in accidents, injuries and deaths in speed limited areas. We'll soon get used to it, he says, and won't notice much difference in journey time or congestion as a result. 

I believe in some regions of Spain it was implemented long before it became universal. Having spent so many months driving in Spain since retirement I'm already accustomed to the more relaxed rhythm of 30kph/20mph motoring, and find it less stressful. I hope drivers in Wales will soon give up whinging about the imposition and appreciate the benefit to their state of mind, as well as the improvement in road safety it's bound to bring.

After shopping a walk in the park listening to the news, then supper. Two interesting TV documentaries to watch this evening. Katya Adler presented the first part of 'Living next door to Putin' touring Russia's neighbouring states - Poland, Lithuania and Lativia and interviewing a variety of people whose response to the threat posed by the invasion of Ukraine was worth hearing. Likewise Laura Kuenssberg in the first of a series on the story of Brexit and the UK Parliament, called 'State of Chaos', broadcasted last night. We heard about it from sister in law Ann today and watched on iPlayer. Both were sobering reminders of just how divided and unstable the world now is, under the influence of mass media with such ability to spread lies, confuse people and heighten their anxieties and undermine their confidence.

Time for just a short read of 'Battle for Spain', and then bed.

When will we ever learn?

Last night we noticed for the first time it's getting dark earlier. It's not so humid today, not quite autumnal yet, but our short burst of extra summer weather seems to be over. 

The Moroccan earthquake death toll now stands at two and a half thousand, and is expected to climb higher, as remote villages in areas whose mountain roads have been damaged are inaccessible to rescue teams. Over fifty thousand died in the earthquake earlier this year which hit Turkey and Western Syria. 

Today is the 22nd anniversary of the attack on the New York World Trade Centre and the Washington Pentagon which cost three thousand lives, and up to a million across five theatres of war involving significant US and Western military involvement: in 'war or terror' actions in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Syria and Yemen. Four and a half million deaths are estimated to be due to the wider impact on this war on non-combatants and as combatants over twenty years 

With these sobering thoughts in mind, it was housework as usual after breakfast on Mondays, then I set to work, issuing the sets of readings for next Sunday's Eucharist, and working on next week's Sway publication. It all went without a hitch, so I recorded and edited Morning Prayer, ready for St Matthew's day, then cooked lunch. That's what I call a productivity. The only interruption, a lunchtime Microsoft scam call.

After lunch I prepared and uploaded the morning's video to YouTube and then went for a walk in Llandaff Fields. I took a couple of decent photos of Mistle Thrush family members I see most afternoons foraging for seed in mown grass. Progressively all the grass in the Fields is being mown, not just the sports pitches, so the air is fragrant in the afternoon warmth.

After supper we watched a programme on BBC Four about way in which the Cote d'Azur in the first half of the 20th century evolved from being an exclusive tourist resort for the rich elites of Europe and America into a celebrated destination for the great modern artists of the age. Monaco where we lived for fifteen months, and La Turbie where Clare taught in the Steiner School both featured in the narrative, as well as Nice and other places we occasionally visited.

After this I continued reading 'Battle for Spain' for an hour and a half before turning in for the night.

Rubbish Overflow

Humid with occasional freshening showers this morning, and a nice slow start. Thankfully, no traffic congestion on my 25 minute drive to St Edward's to celebrate the Eucharist with thirty others. I was able to leave straight after the service, as the post-service coffee and chat hasn't re-started, so was back at home for lunch by a quarter to one. After we'd eaten a splendid lunch, Kath and Anto departed for Kenilworth via Warwick Castle to collect Rhiannon from her day's acting work there. 

I found a review in my news feed of 'Ainadamar' in today's Guardian on-line. One observation of interest was that the pace and tone of Lorca's death in the mid section of the opera resembled a passion play. That rang true to me, as I'd noticed one line of dialogue which had intentional overtones of the Last Supper. After writing for an hour, I went out for a walk.

Clare met me in the park half an hour later, and as we walked down to Blackweir Bridge we were struck by the amount of bottles and cans strewn along the verges within a hundred yards of a bin full to overflowing midway along the path, over twenty pieces picked up within that distance. The bins located next to the bridge were also full to overflowing, a result of weekend picnics and no rubbish collections between Friday afternoon and Monday morning. 

After supper I wrote a constructive letter about it to Councillor Caro Wild and copied it to the editor of Wales Online, to see if this prompts some interest and action. Then I watched this week's episode of 'The Woman in the Wall', and read for a while before turning in for bed.

A Spanish opera début for WNO

Another day of summer humidity. Clare went off early to a meditation workshop at Ararat Baptist Church on Whitchurch Common, leaving me to cook lunch. Having prepared chorizo y haber tapas yesterday, my task was to make a prawn, spinach and mushroom risotto. I lacked white wine to use, so first went to visit Tesco's to buy some, and spotted a bag of shallot onions to bring back and use. They are small and fiddly to prepare, but I like the flavour. M4 traffic through Newport was so slow it took Kath and Anto an extra hour to arrive. I drove to Whitchurch to fetch Clare at one and they arrived just after I returned. Both the chorizo versions met with approval. Disappointingly the risotto was slightly overcooked. I'm more used to cooking paella rice than the risotto kind.

After lunch we went for a walk down to the river. The water at Blackweir Bridge was busy with dozens of children playing. There was a Traveller family having a good time. One of their horses was in the river and another on the bank, being made a fuss of. It was good to see. As we walked down the path that leads to the river, between us we picked up two dozen discarded plastic bottles and cans in four hundred yards, most of them dropped along the edge of the games pitches yesterday evening or this morning. The few ill space rubbish bins were not full, having been emptied at tea time yesterday.

At six, Kath drove us to the Millennium Centre to join other guests at an opera friends' reception and talk by WNO artistic director Aidan Laing about this evening's Cardiff première of the opera 'Ainadamar' by Argentinian author Osvaldo Golijov. We were entertained with wine and nibbles in the backstage area where rehearsals had been carried out, honoured by the presence of the Spanish Consul, and the renowned artistic director of the opera, choreographer Deborah Colker.

It's set around the murder of Frederico Garcia Lorca at the start of the Spanish Civil war, reputedly at a place outside Granada called 'Ainadamar' meaning 'Well of Tears'. It looks back to the murder in Granada  of Mariana Pineda, an early 19th century female champion of libertarian thinking, about whom Lorca had written a play. The actress Margarita Xirgu who had played her part, fled Spain after Lorca's death and continued to play Mariana in memory of Lorca in Latin American theatres. Nuria, her protegée is told the story, representing young inheritors of creative artistic freedom. 

It's a powerful piece of theatre incorporating flamenco dancing and canciónes, with stunning use of lights and visual projection in place of scenery. Striking use is made of projected quotations from the speeches of extreme nationalist politicians and generals, urging the extermination of socialist republican enemies. I have seen all these in print, this last week, reading 'Battle for Spain'. None is this is fictional. It reveals the kind of irrational hatred which populist demagogues can stir up, when power without accountability is wielded in a corrupt unjust society.

The singing was outstanding. Lorca was played by Hannah Hipp, a contralto with a powerful versatile voice, sounding very much like a man's in her lower range. It was only when she soared effortlessly to her high notes without breaking into falsetto that the ambiguity was dispelled. Nuria was sung by Julieth Lozano Rolong, the Colombian soprano winner of the audience vote prize in 'Cardiff Singer of the World' this year.

The opera lasts just eighty minutes with no intermission. It's relentlessly intense holding attention, start to finish. It's about the costliness of claiming freedom, freedom to be creative, freedom to be oneself, more than it is about political, social and economic freedom. It's also about the true prophetic vocation and how it lives on through stories told of heroic people and the sacrifices they make.

We were home by nine fifteen, sitting in on the patio in the dark, drinking wine, eating nuts and fruit, enjoying the mild night air, still thrilled by the experience shared by the four of us. All, late to bed after a wonderful evening out.

Royal Year's Mind

A brighter start to the day with a scattering of much higher cloud decorating the sky, but uncomfortably humid at 27C. 

It's a year today since the Queen died, and the ritual of Accession began to be enacted. How quickly the time has passed. I guess it was intended that the King should be in Balmoral this week in the place where he visited his mother and said goodbye. Charles occupies quietly his new role as Head of State with the emphasis on continuity rather than innovation, which is important in such times of uncertainty and upheaval. Thank goodness we no longer have a populist prime minister competing with him for media attention.

Yesterday the guys living next door gave Clare a couple of kilos of big ripe red beef tomatoes harvested from their garden. They're off to Greece for the week and didn't think the fruit would keep well until their return. Clare's anti-arthritis diet forbids tomatoes, so as there were more than I could eat, my first thought was chutney. Clare found a recipe, and went shopping for extra vinegar and sugar after breakfast, then we set about preparing the ingredients - Clare on onions, chilli, ginger and spices, me on tomato dissection and tidy up. A big cooking apple from the tree of a neighbour across the street also went into the mix, so we could perhaps label it 'neighbourhood chutney'. Slowly the characteristic aroma of chutney cooking fills the house. If all turns out as intended, we'll have jars to share with neighbourly contributors.

I finished my Sunday sermon and started working on a reflection for St Matthew's Day which falls on my Morning Prayer day, a week next Thursday, my 53rd anniversary of presiding at Mass the first time. Before I realised, it was lunchtime, and while Clare was keeping an eye on the cooking chutney, she had prepared the food for cooking, and was riding her exercise bike. All I needed to do was switch on the cooker ring with the steamer on it. Our preferred method of making lunch the easy way.

After we'd eaten, I went to Tesco's to shop for a few items, and for this week's food bank contribution to drop off at St John's. There was extraordinary amount of traffic in both directions on Llandaff Road on the way there and back. There's an international cricket match on at Sophia Gardens today, but I don't see how this would impact on a parallel road half a mile to the west unless there are traffic restrictions on Cathedral Road forcing deviation to a secondary route. The schools aren't all back yet, to generate a lot more congestion. None of this is good for air quality in a dense residential area, even if it is slowly improving with the advent of electric cars. I finished the afternoon with a lap of the park, where the air is usually cleaner, thankfully.

After supper, I cooked a tapa of broad beans and chorizo, plus a vegan equivalent in preparation for Kath and Anto's opera evening visit tomorrow. Then I spent the rest of the evening reading the chapter in 'Battle for Spain' about the siege of Madrid. This was when the Spanish nationalist insurrection against the republican government decisively turned into an international proxy war, and became a technical rehearsal for the world war that was about to break out, unforeseen by many who should have known better.

Then, it was time for bed with much to ponder about.

Muggy day

Hot and cloudy for most of today. 28C and humid, although the interior of our house was noticeably cooler than outdoors. I spent the morning putting the finishing touches to this week's Sway, adding a Toy Appeal notice that I created from scratch. Checking all I had done brought the realisation that I'd not issued liturgical reading sheets for Sunday. I started to prepare them on Monday but got distracted and didn't complete the job, so this had to be done as well.

Clare went into town to make some enquiries at the bank, and I prepared a hasty lunch for her return, after completing my morning chores. I left the task of mailing the link to this week's Sway until after lunch, aware that I needed to re-acquaint myself with the fiddly edit procedure for updating the link in MailChimp. 

I still can't find out how to access and edit the parish mailing list in order to insert or delete email addresses. I must take care not to do something that eliminates or corrupts the list, so caution is necessary. I'm very mindful of what happened with the N.A.T.S. flight plan management software last week. A preliminary report shows that one item of incorrectly entered data in a single flight plan halted processing and automatic backup. It refused to work until that one flight plan in tens of thousands had been identified and corrected, meanwhile flight plans had to be processed by hand, one at a time.

Anyway, I was able to get the mailshot to work correctly first time, and then went out for a walk around Llandaff Fields a couple of times. I didn't feel like going far on such a muggy afternoon. The road works along the edge of the Fields are nearing completion now.  The huge interlocking plastic blocks used as a safety barrier are being removed gradually. In order to give these relatively lightweight blocks stability each of them has to be filled with a certain weight of water. This must be removed before they can be lifted on to a lorry for return to the depot, or the next roadworks site. 

The long barrier line of blocks has slowly thinned out during the week. Last to go will be a few security fences and the obligatory workplace portable toilet. Eleven years ago, Llandaff Fields public toilets were turned into the popular Cafe Castan selling ice cream and pizzas. There are a couple of toilets maintained by the proprietors, but not available outside opening hours. One of the many public amenities no longer provided for out of the municipal purse. How do the decision makers think people in need of a toilet are going to manage away from home?

After supper this evening we watched a programe on BBC Four about the role of Irish Celtic Christianity in the early part of the Dark Ages. After the departure of the Roman legions in the early fifth centuries society in Britain collapsed and the country was invaded by Angles and Saxons imposing their pagan culture, language and laws in all but the west and north of Britain, where Celtic language survived. 

Patrick was a Welsh boy of 16, kidnapped and enslaved by Irish raiders. He was also the educated son of a Christian family. After escaping aged 22 he returned home, but didn't stay, deciding to return to Ireland and evangelise. Thus began the Christianisation of Irish Celts, whose missionaries later returned to evangelize the Angles and Saxons, bringing with them the advances in civilisation and culture that had transformed Ireland into one of Europe's eminent powerhouses of learning and spirituality. An interesting watch, with a second episode to follow.

Then I read for tge best part of two hours before turning in for the night.

Outdoor sports hub

Another day of summer heat and blue sky even though it's officially autumn now. Kath announced that she and Anto were back home, after an early arrival and bumpy landing at Brum in thick fog. After breakfast, I drove to St Peter's Fairwater to celebrate the midweek Eucharist with twenty others. After a cup of coffee and a chat I returned home, then went to collect this week's veggie bag. While I was out Clare was busy turning the strained liquor of blackberry and apple from yesterday evening's brew into four small jars of jelly. She'd also prepared lunch while the liquor and added sugar were reducing. 

After we'd eaten, the contents of the straining bag needed to be sieved by hand to remove the pips, making several more jars of a fruity paste which is great to eat on bread, in addition to the delicious jelly. This is done with an old fashioned hand cranked metal kitchen device, a job which I'm content to take on. It's one of our autumnal domestic rituals well worth the effort. With a modicum of self restraint, jars of each will appear on our family festive Christmas table.

I did the week's grocery shopping at the Coop, then went for a walk around Llandaff Fields. Early on a Wednesday evening scores of youngsters distributed in groups with parents and sports trainers are out on several different games pitches being taken through their paces - soccer and rugby for the most part. These days there is an equal number of girls as there are boys. It's a hive of activity, and great to see. 

Other evenings the young cricketers will be out practicing, playing games, then on the weekends at the moment there will be cricket matches, in Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields, as many as half a dozen some times. Near Blackweir bridge a baseball diamond is marked out, and there are games on the weekend Some weeknight evening young baseball players come to practice. On top of all this are daily runners regular Parkrun groups, competitive athletics meetings and occasionally, big fun runs . Managing all this activity must be quite a challenge, as demand continues to evolve.

Not all the space given to traditional asphalt tennis courts finds regular use. A plan is in the pipeline  to replace a couple of surplus courts with a cricketers' clubhouse and changing room. Next to the tennis enclosure is a bowling green and clubhouse, no longer used. A mile down river in Sophia Gardens there is another bowling green which is very well used. I believe two clubs have been merged. 

Another plan is in the pipeline to turn the redundant bowling green into a padel court with changing rooms, as this has become a popular sport here, possibly due to its discovery by holidaymakers in Spain. The court can be used for volleyball as well I believe. Padel is a form of tennis played in an enclosed space roughly half the size of a conventional tennis court, which originated in Mexico in 1969, and has spread globally since. I first came across it in Mojácar seven years ago, as I saw a sign board for a padel court on my daily walk to the neighbourhood nature reserve. I first saw it played in the sea side hotel garden in Estepona last year, also on my daily walking route!

When I got back home there was a note from Clare with the bowl of blackberry and apple paste left out on the table. We'd both forgotten that the sieving device doesn't remove tiny pips, so the paste has to be passed through another tighter meshed sieve again. Another half hour's work to complete the job before adding sugar to preserve it and enhance the taste. Yes, still worth the effort, although the consequence of all that manual exercise was to bring on painful cramp in all my hand muscles. No gain without pain.

After supper I uploaded and worked on photos taken today, then read 'Battle for Spain' for an hour and a half before bed.

Foraging

Another mild night and hot sunny day. Clare had a hospital appointment mid morning and decided to walk there so we I didn't need to take her by car. Instead I went to the park and picked blackberries along the edge of the allotments and the footpath through the woods along the river. In two hours I collected three pounds. By the time I returned home Clare was already cooking fish pie for lunch. While I was recovering from my foraging effort after lunch with an hour's extra sleep, she acquired some free apples from a neighbour, to cook with the blackberries and produce blackberry and apple jelly.

I drafted a sermon for next Sunday after my siesta. As we'd run out of bananas I then walked to Lidl's and shopped for fruit, a chorizo and some smoked mackerel as well. Both these products are suited to my taste and reasonably priced, so the extra distance on an unpleasant noisy road was worth the effort. Clare went to meditation group leaving me to my own devices to make supper. 

Then I removed several big albums from one of my Google Photos accounts and backed them up to a hard drive to free space rather than renting storage space for stuff I want to keep but rarely look at. Then finally, an hour reading about the Spanish Civil War. It's taken the thoroughness of a well respected top British historian to write a comprehensive and balanced account of a brutal chaotic conflict which has taken sixty years for the majority of Spaniards to discuss, as the generation of survivors reach the end of their lives, haunted by what they witnessed. 

It's giving me disturbing insight into what a complete breakdown of law and order looks like, and furious hatreds are unleashed. With such deep social division, poverty and a sense of powerlessness felt by many people in Britain I wonder, could it happen here? When you think of what happened in Northern Ireland fifty years ago, triggered by the events of Bloody Sunday, what sort of crisis could lead to a similar catastrophe closer to home? 

Sta Pola fiesta photos

A blissfully sunny day with cloudless blue sky and 29C in the afternoon. I woke up in time to hear Bishop James Jones on 'Thought for the Day'. He was talking about the latest schooling crisis, with an interesting perspective on what learning must achieve today. He pointed out that formation and training although essential are inadequate unless they educate young people to be resilient, adaptable and confident in what they know and can do in a fast changing ever uncertain world. To achieve this they need to discover their own imagination and creativity, and this is is a contribution which religion, the arts and humanities offer, and can get neglected in an era where technical know-how is emphasised.

Kath sent me more marvellous photos of the Sta Pola Fiesta de Moros y Christianos street procession, plus short video clips to convey the atmosphere on the street. I well remember witnessing this fiesta in Peñiscola seven years ago, and would love to be there for it in Sta Pola, a town I am much better acquainted with. The festive weekend was hit by strong winds over the weekend, leading to delays in getting the evening procession started. A video clip from this morning showed surfers out on three metre waves off shore.

After breakfast I worked on my Thursday prayer video for Holy Cross Day. Clare cooked chick pea curry for lunch and we ate in the garden under our big sunshade umbrella. I snoozed for an hour afterwards then prepared bread dough for the next batch bake. I inadvertently used too much yeast, and with today's added ten degrees of heat, dough rising won't take as long as usual.

I went for a walk, slightly nervous that the dough might overflow the large bowl all over the kitchen table in my absence, but walked for a couple of hours with my Sony Alpha 68, nevertheless. I've equipped it now with an 18-55mm lens for a change. This time I want to learn about different configurable settings available. Today, I concentrated on the same photo subject using several different ISO levels, as I'm curious about how this works in with direct sunlight above and behind the subject.

When I reached home I found the dough wasn't out of control. I knocked it back and put it in the baking tins, noticing how fast it was rising. It looked good when I took it out of the oven forty minutes later. Once it had cooled a taste test showed that it was none the worse for the surfeit of yeast. Another good result. Just!

After supper, I changed some of the visuals on this week's Sway and added some new material, then uploaded the day's photos, before settling down to read for an hour before bed.

Disconcerting deviation

It was lovely woke up to sunshine and warmth again this morning, and a relatively early breakfast for a Sunday. This gave me half an hour to spare before I set out for St German's to celebrate the Eucharist, so I recorded the reflection for Holy Cross Day, and edited it. When I approached the junction with Cowbridge Road at the bottom end of Romilly Road I ran into a static queue of traffic. Some cars were turning around to go and look for other routes to their destination. The presence of the occasional worker in a hi-viz jacket made me think there had been an accident, though I learned later that there were rolling road closures due to a 10km running event. 

I began to worry about not making to St German's in time for the service, so I made a detour that took me up Cowbridge Road to Canton Cross, and then on the road to Leckwith, past the football stadium down Sloper Road, then across Grangetown and the south side of the city centre into Adamsdown to get to church. A twenty five minute journey instead of fifteen on a normal Sunday arriving with ten minutes to spare. As this was unexpected and required quick thinking and route planning on the go, I found it a rather stressful preliminary to Sunday worship. In case this happens again, I need to think about alternative route to St Edward's, as it's that much further away again.

I was pretty tired when I got back for lunch, and went straight to bed afterwards and slept for an hour. Then, another visit to Thompson's Park to take photos of the juvenile moorhens. The mother hen stays steadfastly at the other end of the pond, at the limit of camera range, unfortunately. 

Then I walked over to Llandaff Fields to complete my exercise quota for the day, and bumped into Pete riding a bicycle. He said it was the first time he'd been on a bike in forty years, persuaded by a mate who has a spare one to try it out, as an alternative to jogging, which he does regularly, even though we're about the same age! It's not something I'd consider trying again, given the scar tissue on my rear end, even with the broadest and best cushioned bike seat available.

After supper we watched a new edition of Antiques Roadshow together. I then watched 'The Woman in the Wall', and before turning in for the night, recorded and edited Morning Prayer for Holy Cross Day to go with what I did before going to church today. It's funny, sometimes it's hard to focus on getting routine tasks done, and other times the creative energy comes in fits and starts. It's a matter of going with the ebb and flow of life, I guess.

Moorhens' appearance

Awake to sunshine, and a pancake breakfast. Then I finished tomorrow's sermon, printed it and packed my bag ready for the morning and cooked lentils with quinoa for lunch. I felt tired after a broken night's sleep but failed to sleep after eating so went out for a walk instead, with leaden legs. 

First, to Thompson's Park, and spotted among the mallard ducks on the pond a couple of young grey birds smaller than a mallard with a white patch under their tails and black legs. I wondered if it was a juvenile moorhen. A quick google consultation confirmed it was. Moments later at the far end of the pool I saw an adult moorhen, distinguished by the red patch on the bridge of its beak. It stayed at a distance and moved too fast get a photo as I only had the manual 50mm prime lens on my Sony Alpha 68. Impossible to tell if it was this bird that made a nest on a lily pad in the park's garden pond three months ago when Jasmine was here. I've not seen an moorhen return to the park to lay eggs since then, unless the bird has been very secretive. Anyway, it's welcome news.

Then I walked to Llandaff Fields where Clare called me to fix a rendezvous as she'd come out to get some fresh air later than I. We walked through the woods along the Taff as far as Blackweir and after Clare had a drink from the mobile Tuk-Tuk cafe across the bridge, we returned home.

Clare surprised me by cooking a batch of waffles for supper. As I fancied something savoury I heated up half a can of baked beans left over from supper a couple of days ago. It made a worthwhile change from having them on toast!

Nothing of interest to watch on telly tonight, so I spent the evening reading Anthony Beevor's 'Battle for Spain. I want to finish it this week so I can give it to Anto to read. They return from Sta Pola this week and are coming to see us next weekend for a night at the opera, the opening of 'Ainadamar' by Osvaldo Gollimov. It'll be our first ever opera in Spanish. Kath has been sending me photos of the Fiesta del Moros y Cristianos cosplay weekend in Sta Pola, a very popular public event with street parades centering on the castle. I'd love to be there. Maybe another year, who knows? 

Imitation dinosaurs

Another cloudy day, but warmer at 21C. Pleased to say that I decided to renew the car tax for another year yesterday on time, though I'm not sure how cost effective a form of transport it is when we use it so little. It costs us about a thousand pounds a year to keep standing outside the house most of the time, just to use a couple of times a week mostly for convenience, and in town. I have established that our Polo is ULEZ compliant, so if Cardiff opts to establish a clean air city centre zone, there'll be no additional running costs. I estimate paying for taxis over a year would amount to much the same, although hiring a car holiday travel to places not easy to reach by public transport would add to the overall expense.

After breakfast I worked until lunch on Morning Prayer and a Reflection for Holy Cross Day two weeks hence. Lunch was quick and easy, consisting of the other half of a chicken dish I prepared yesterday with pasta instead of rice, while Clare had the second portion of the hake fillets she cooked yesterday with veg.

As I was entering the park for my afternoon walk, I was stopped by a man who asked me how to get to the City centre through the Park, so I accompanied him as far Pontcanna Fields, pointing him to Blackweir Bridge and the way into Bute Park and the Castle. Then he took off, walking faster than I. We chatted as we walked. He was an extravert African American and told me his name was Less (short for Lesslie) and that he was from California but had worked in Europe as a restauranteur for over than fifteen years, first in Norway then in Madeira. He'd fallen for a Welsh woman and that brought him to Cardiff, where he'd fallen out with her and fallen for another Welsh woman. All this in a few minutes walk!

On impulse, I walked down the Taff footpath to the Millennium Bridge and crossed over into Bute Park then walked right around the fence in Cooper's Field enclosing this year's 'Dinosaurs in Bute Park' kids exhibition with life sized replicas of over forty different creatures based on analysis of paleontological research findings, complete with calling sounds (based on the size of inner skull cavities), with a guess at their possible colours. The show last appeared here in 2021, after the first in 2018. Return in 2020 was ruled out by the pandemic lockdown.

In keeping with the ancient tradition of mechanical automatons, the necks, jaws and tails of the beasts are equipped to move on their own. Not exactly lifelike. Their roaring sounds hilarious, a cross between someone throwing up after a boozy night out, and an ancient toilet being flushed. Fun for children, fascinated with monstrous beats from an early age, but impossible for an adult not to laugh at the synthetic nature of their skin, and the noises they make. A family outing ticket for four people costs over forty pounds, plus the ice creams sweets and fizzy drinks. It didn't seem all that busy to me. I wonder if the show makes a profit? 

On my way back home the grass mower was at work on the triangular meadow between Pontcanna and Llandaff Fields, left to grow wild unmown until now. The scent of cut grass in the warm air was a delight.  It reminded me of my stay in Taormina at the end of 2012, when several of the largest palms close to the church were cut down to reduce risk on them falling in a wind and damaging the building. Palms aren't trees but giant grasses. When cut they exude the same sweet aroma.

After supper I uploaded dinosaur photos to the cloud and added them to the album of similar photos taken two years ago just after the show had closed and the exhibits dismantled for removal. Then I joined Clare in watching tonight's BBC promenade concert featuring the celebrated multi ethnic Chineke orchestra playing a mix of standard classic pieces and several of black composers of the 20th century whose work is being rediscovered and performed again. Such energy and coherence among the seventy strong ensemble, and a breathtaking young trumpet virtuoso making the most of his proms debut! A real treat, and then early to bed.