Old Talk

An early start on a cold bright Sunday morning, driving to St Peter's for the nine thirty Eucharist. We were three dozen, and the chill extended to church as the heating control had broken in the week and won't be replaced until tomorrow. Afterwards over coffee, I chatted with Fr Huw and his wife, a contemporary of mine, with a varied ministry in parishes of Llandaff Archdeaconry, during which he never learned to drive, but walked everywhere and saw the benefit of this in terms of pastoral  relationship. When necessary his wife was his chauffeur. 

He's providing locum cover in Fairwater where they live now during the vacancy. He recalled how in his first year of retirement Fr Colin the Vicar broke his foot, so he was on locum duty for three months. That reminded me of covering for Fr Mark when he was off sick waiting for and then recovering from hernia surgery for a long period. Well, you do what you have to do for as long as you can. Once a priest, always a priest, as they say.

It was nice to get home by eleven fifteen and potter around until Clare came home from church. Lunch was already planned and prepared so there was nothing to do, except open a bottle of Chianti Classico, a rare bargain purchase yesterday to let it breathe before the meal. After we'd eaten I went to bed for an hour. I sleep less on Saturday nights, although not badly, and try to make up for it if I can. For reasons I cannot understand, the fitbit sleep tracker records these hour long siestas some on occasions not others, regardless of whether I'm sitting in an armchair or lying in bed. Not impressed as the impoverished data set is reflected in averages given, and the annoying advice the device conveys. It's so patronising.

I had a good long walk as far as Llandaff weir, on the East bank of the Taff, and got back just as the sun was setting. I had a message from the Iraqui refugee who attends St German's, accepting my offer of support for her as she waits for her application to be processed. She has a very strong case, and her daughter's asylum request has already been granted, but it's taking a long time, for reasons that are unclear, and it's worrying her. I also wrote to Diana with comments and reflections on her book, while Clare went to Salem for their evening service in Welsh. While she was out it started to rain. I felt sorry for those attending the Parish bonfire in St Catherine's grounds. I hope it was burning too strongly to be extinguished by the rain.

Another refugee camp in Gaza has been bombed with loss of life. The Rafah border crossing was closed yesterday to foreign nationals with exit permits but not to incoming aid traffic it seems. Calls for a ceasefire or humanitarian pauses continue but to no effect, as the bombardment of Gaza City and incursion of the Israeli army continues and the death toll goes up to 9,400, maybe more, with misery for two million Gazans. What good can come of this?