I woke up to that the usual time to clouds and sunshine. I could have done with more sleep but didn't doze off again. Clare's cold had worsened overnight so she went back to bed. I had a message from Fr Stewart asking if I was free to celebrate Mass on Sunday, as the priest scheduled to celebrate was contracted covid As I have nothing booked in my diary, I gladly agreed and spent the morning writing a homily for Harvest Festival Sunday on harvesting power from the wind and the sun. It reminded me of Harvest in Penyrheol when I was a young curate with lumps of coal from Windsor Colliery up the valley included in the display of fruit and veg in church.
I cooked lunch and took it to Clare in bed, then fell sound asleep in the chair for over an hour. Then I went to town to bank a cheque at HSBC. I discovered the main city branch was closed and turned into a building site. A notice redirected customers to the Capitol Centre a few hundred yards away. I walked the length of the centre without seeing finding an established branch in any of the retail units, several of which were empty. At the far end in a large open space an area with red curtained walls had a couple of trestle tables in one corner above which a modest HSCB logo had been placed. Not a single person could be seen in attendance. A branch usually open until five had closed at four. I was too late. I walked back up Queen Street to bank the cheque at Santander, but it closed at three. How on earth anyone working in the city can visit a branch at the end of the afternoon for whatever reason without taking time off, I don't know. There's a presumption that most banking can be done on-line. Tell that to the digitally illiterate. A wasted journey.
As I walked back, I had a text message from Clare to say she'd just tested positive for covid. She probably got infected when she went to the plygain choir last Friday night. We haven't been much in close contact in the time since as I went away and we've both been busy separately, so there's an outside chance I'm not yet infected, but it'll be a few days before symptoms develop if I'm infected or get infected. Meanwhile I won't be able to take any services.
Straightaway while I was out in the park, I emailed Fr Stewart to tell him the bad news. Then as I started emailing Clive about not being able to celebrate Mass at St Catherine's tomorrow, an email arrived from Fr Dyfrig to say he was going to attend Mass tomorrow, aiming to get to know some of the regular members. Providential, to say the least! I was able to tell him of my predicament and ask him to take the service instead. So now, it's back into quarantine again, waiting to see if I go down with covid again. A pity I've not yet been called for my sixth covid booster job.
After returning home I went out to Tesco's for extra veg and some wine, then prepared supper. The Archers tonight had Alan the Vicar quizzed about witches, the supernatural and life after death by another parishioner who's been wondering about ghost stories. I felt he struggled to give an adequate response.
It was eight by the time I done all that I needed to do, and could sit down and watch 'Fake or Fortune', and then the documentary about Downing Street parties during lock-down on Channel Four, dramatising some of the events reported in the official report by Sue Gray, as well as news footage and interviews with people who lost family members due to covid. A disturbing account of lawlessness at the heart of government, and the lack of moral awareness among staff members, some of whom clearly believed their job was to make the rules not obey them. An important contribution to public debate among those who won't read the report. I hope it reminds people who may already have forgotten what went on at the time and influences voting decisions at the next general election.
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