New sandals

Another of those disappointing days, waking up to sunshine, then the west wind pushing a layer of cloud to cover the sky. There were ten of us at the St Catherine's Eucharist, and we had scones with out coffee afterwards, left over from the 125th anniversary celebration on Sunday, with jam and cream for those who fancied it. I bought courgettes from the churchyard garden, and a pot of blackcurrant jam, made by Hilary last weekend on a visit to St Davids, where she found blackcurrant bushes in a neighbour's garden laden with unpicked fruit. 

I've just started the only other jar of blackcurrant jam made by Hilary with fruit from the churchyard garden. Our bush bore hardly any fruit this year, sadly. Blackcurrant jam is for me a taste of childhood, as they flourished in our home's back garden. Apart from Mum's juicy black current pies, the other favourites were sticky sweet blackcurrant jam tarts and steamed suet pudding with embedded fruit. Summer wouldn't be the same without the lingering flavour of blackcurrants in the mouth.

I bought the week's food bank offering in Tesco's and dropped it off at St John's on the way to Chapter Arts for this week's veggie bag. While Clare was cooking lunch, I uploaded the photos taken last night to one of my Google photos accounts for inspection. I wasn't surprised at a disappointing result all round. If hadn't been just before bed time I'd have set up each camera manually and used them with a tripod. Seizing the moment turned out to be a waste of time.

I went into town again after lunch in search of a pair of replacement sandals. At the end of supper isn't the best time to be looking, as they're only rarely on display. I got lucky however, in A J Meeks, where there were several pairs on offer at half price in their end of season sale. It was gone five when I got home, and I read my latest Zafon novel for a while before supper and after. Then I watched the last two episodes of six part mini-series 'Renaissance' or 'Revival' in English.

It turned out to be more than a story about heart transplantation. It's also a murder mystery tale with many twists and turns in it, and it's also about two children adopted as infants, born to young mothers who have to give up their children. Both adoptees are on a quest to know more about themselves and the full story of their origins. One of these is the murder victim in her twenties. Coincidentally the recipient of her heart is the adoptive white mother of a black child. Granny is racist, triggering an identity crisis for a feisty fifteen year old. In getting to the truth, both families' destinies are intertwined. Where there's so much love there's also much pain, before the 'happy ever after' mood music plays in the final minutes. It's well crafted and a good watch.