What kind of fish?

Sunshine and clouds again today, but several degrees warmer. A good night's sleep and after breakfast a walk to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist. We were only twenty eight this morning. Bishop Rowan celebrated, and gave us a fine sermon about divine generosity, with an interesting insight into the feeding of the multitude according to Saint John. He pointed out that five loaves and two fish (not fishes) are mentioned. The absence of a plural in translation hides the possibility that the Greek original, in its context could mean pickled or dried fish rather than fresh or cooked fish which couldn't keep as long in the heat. It was something tasty to go with the bread, a little bit more than necessary nourishment provided at the right moment. Interesting, like the added extra of water becoming wine.

After coffee, home for lunch in the sun under the garden umbrella - fish as ever. Cooked salmon with veg. While Clare had a siesta, I went to Thompson's Park with my Sony HX300 50x superzoom camera to see if I could get better photos of the moorhen chicks. It developed a fault in the lens sensor and produces an annoying error message on startup. It can be cleared by removing and reinserting the battery and powering it up with the lens already extended. Repair would cost more than the camera is worth, or a replacement if Sony still made them. The same fault developed with my smaller 30x zoom HX50. After that, the camera died. The HX300 has taken half the number of photos but its reliability must now be in doubt. I haven't used it for a year. 

I should have taken a tripod with me to take photos at full zoom extension, but a few turned out quite well, revealing that the moorhens have another nest by the water in a patch of briars with ripening blackberries. Two of the three chicks spotted yesterday were visible in the alternative nest. As I was approaching the pond, the resident muscovy duck briefly mounted the moorhens' floating nest, but was quickly chased away, such a comic sight.

Clare and I then walked over to The Summer House in Bute Park for a drink. The SWALEC stadium was busy and noisy as we passed, with another Sunday cricket match in progress, in the 'Hundred' tournament series. Today it was a women's match. Apparently both home teams are known as 'Welsh Fire'.

Much to my surprise, Clare cooked a mushroom spinach and onion pizza for supper. It was very good. I watched episodes of 'After the flood' afterwards until bed time: murder with political and police corruption woven into a complex plot around a pregnant trainee detective, who seemed inexhaustible, the apect that was more far fetched than the rest of the plot.