In the dentists' chair again

A pleasant mild day, clouds, sunshine and the occasional breath of wind. I woke up just before my phone told me it was time to upload this week's YouTube Morning Prayer and Reflection link to WhatsApp, just before 'Thought for the Day'. It's the fifty fourth anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood today.

I got up just after eight and made breakfast, then hung a load of washing that Clare had started before I got up. As I was about to take a shower, my phone reminded me of something I had forgotten - a dentists appointment. I dressed in haste and was out of the house in the car ten minutes later. I arrived twenty five minutes early due to my tendency to allow time before an appointment which involves a ten minute drive on a road often congested. It meant I had time to say Morning Prayer from y phone app before Mrs Benfield was ready to see me.

Twenty minutes later I emerged, with my back tooth decay dealt with, and numb face muscles. This time, I found then initial injection process quite stressful. I was less relaxed than usual, perhaps as a result of the hasty awakening I had to get there twenty minutes early. The noise of a drill used for excavating the tooth in need of filling and the physical tension, awakened vivid memories of the dentist's chair in Ystrad Mynach dental surgery when I was about eleven years old, being treated by Mr Mason, a large but gentle man, facing the challenge of dealing with a kid with a few broken front teeth, and a few others other worse for wear thanks to a sugar rich diet.

Before returning home I visited the Lidl store near the dentist's for a few items we needed. Then I cooked a pasta dish for lunch. After eating, I slept in the chair for nearly an hour and a half. I needed it having gone to bed too late last night. Then, late afternoon a walk in Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields before supper

I spent the evening listening to a baroque music concert with instruments of the same period which was performed in Dublin, reproducing a concert performed in the city in the days of Handel, a pure delight. As I listened, I made the video slide show for next week's Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube. 

News of more deaths and injuries in Lebanon among Hizbollah operatives, this time from booby trapped walkie-talkies with a dozen people killed. These two days of exploits presumed to have been carried out by Israeli secret services seriously undermine their capacity to wage war. It demonstrates a technological sophistication and ability to infiltrate the equipment supply train not seen or maybe imagined before. No wonder it's causing anxiety among non-military citizens, as distrust of phones and other digital devices being hacked is now spreading. The distribution of booby trapped devices used by civilian and military personnel without distinction is a violation of the laws of war. Another horror of wartime life, in which the political and strategic implications are discussed, and ethical considerations reduced to 'the end justifies the means' when there is no consensus about what that end consists of.

Reality and / or Fiction?

A cloudy start to the day, but the sky soon cleared as the sun rose into the sky. An early breakfast, and then a drive to UHW with Clare for her post-op checkup. Finding a space was easier today, despite the flow of cars entering the car park. I joined Clare in the waiting room, which was already filling up with patients for early day appointments. I had to stand outside after a while, along with others accompanying patients. Three quarters of an hour later she emerged, and we made our way to the car park. It was twenty past ten when we reached home, not quite enough time to walk to Mass at St Catherine's, so I drove there feeling guilty about not walking, but I simply hate to be late for worship. I drove home afterwards, then walked to Chapter to collect this week's veggie bag. Then I cooked curried lentils with sweetcorn on the cob plus veg for lunch.

A second appointment for Clare at UHW mid afternoon for another bone density scan, our third trip to UHW in 30 hours. I had enough time in hand before leaving to watch the finale of 'Nightsleeper', gripping right to the end. In addition to being a first rate thriller written in six episodes corresponding to the journey time of the night sleeper train from Glasgow to London, it portrayed the activity of the National Cyber Security in full operational cyber warfare more in all its presumably fictional jargon filled complexity, near Victoria Station in London (in real life) where a high speed runaway train is programmed to arrive and precipitate a major disaster on the station and its neighbourhood. 

A dozen people are trapped on the train, each with their own background stories. As the hours pass and a grisly fate seems to await them all, their masks drop to reveal the truth of the real person beneath the lies. The truth behind the motives of the crime fighters at HQ is also revealed, and it's revealed that malware they have previously created for stress testing systems prone to cyber attack is being used against them. Several alternative ways of preventing a catastrophe are discussed, with perilous consequences. It seems that political and security leaders will sacrifice the few to save the many, a 'less worse' expedient solution. This also seems to be what compels the train trapped individuals to hide behind their masks, with tragic consequences for some. 

There is however, an uncompromising heroine who succeeds against the odds in finding an innovative solution that forestalls catastrophe, just. It's worth watching for dialogue revealing the best and worst of intentions, and highest moral values. It's an engaging philosophical essay in the guise of a spy thriller. My only complaint is that the background music resembled closely the frenetic genre of music behind the 'Call of Duty' series, 'The Capture' and several others.

Thinking of 'less worse' the Israelis presumably launched a devastating hi-tech attack on Hizbollah in Lebanon, conning their militia into using a large batch of paging devices containing embedded military grade explosives. Nine dead and a couple of thousand people maimed. Following this, a similar attack on  digital comms handsets today. There have been fears that Israel would experience even more attacks from Hizbolla's army in Lebanon which have intensified since the war on Gaza. The large scale undermining of its secure communications ability weakens its ability to wage war, but at what cost? So many people will be put out of action, if not disabled. There's bound to be a risk that Hizbolla's allies and proxy forces will launch damaging revenge attacks on Israel, escalating the conflict, with what consequence? Reality and fiction seem even closer today than 36 hours ago.

Having delivered Clare to UHW in good time for her appointment, I waited for her with an Americano and a slice of fruit cake in the main concourse area of the hospital. We were home again by five, and after another slice of cake and a drink, I went out for a walk in the park. The pair of chairs fly-tipped late last night had migrated from next to the waste bin where they were dumped to the woodland edge of the field, for no apparent reason. There are a few spaces within the surrounding trees and undergrowth which are used from time to time by youngsters as a secret place to hang out, and maybe also by homeless people camping wild. They are in good condition. I wonder where they came from?

After supper, I spent time writing, and recorded next week's Reflection and Morning Prayer before turning in for the night.

Full moon in the park

I woke up at seven, listened to the news then fell asleep again until a quarter to nine. Meanwhile Clare was up and out of the house taking a taxi to UHW for a minor eye operation aimed at reducing internal eyeball pressure which is causing her loss of vision. With the house to myself after breakfast I listened to Kath and Anto's new Sonrisa album 'Scenic Roots' at a suitable volume on our big music / dining room hi-fi system, to get a more physical impression of the music than you can get from a set of headphones. It sounds as if they're in the room with you. It's a beautifully crafted work of art with a variety of songs in a Latino ethos. I really hope it gets the recognition it deserves.

Clare called on my mobile to say her op was over, but reception was so bad the call kept dropping. Then a nurse rang on the landline to say there'd be a delay, as she was not yet discharged. I drove to UHW at the specified time, but there was no sign of Clare at the rendezvous point outside. I drove around the block six times, calling each time I stopped to look for her, then drove to the multi storey car park and queued for a place. Finally we made contact and I learned of further delay in receiving medication from the pharmacy, so I went the eye surgery department and joined her in waiting. I had parked in a corner space head first, and when I tried to get out of it realised I would have to negotiate my way out carefully to avoid hitting a car which had parked opposite outside a valid space, blocking part of the turning circle. That was why the previous occupant of my space had reversed in and been able to drive out. Something I hadn't noticed. As a result it took me many stressful minutes reversing with Clare's aid, to avoid the rogue parked car. It was gone two by the time we returned. Fortunately I had prepared lunch before hand so that it could be cooked straight away.

I returned to story writing after we'd eaten, and to preparing next week's Thursday Morning Prayer and reflection. Then I took Clare's medical report from this morning's operation and posted it through the GP surgery letter box, just after it closed at six. After supper, I read aloud to Clare as much of the story as I'd written since yesterday - reading is out of the question at the moment as she's wearing an eye patch and can't read without spec's. Then, after writing a little more, I watched another fast paced confusing jargon filled episode of 'Nightsleeper', before going out for a late night walk in Llandaff Fields under tonight's full moon in a clear sky, with a few planets and the occasional helicopter hovering just above the eastern horizon. 

I saw what I thought was a pale brown dog licking a pizza box, discarded behind a park bench, but I was alone. No owner in sight anywhere, so I concluded that it was a fox, the first time I've seen one out there. A little further up the footpath behind a bin, there were a pair of upholstered high backed chairs side by side. A surreal sight, fly tipped my moonlight. Bizarre. I collected the pizza box and took it to a bin on the return leg. Nothing I could do about the chairs. The bin emptying lorry will pick them up tomorrow, as it passes most days of the week. 

And so to bed, memory flooded with moonlight and beautiful tree shadows.

Digital House of Cards

A cold sunny start to the week with housework, writing, cooking lunch of rice and veg with British grown black fava beans which Clare soaked and cooked yesterday. A good flavour, not as bland as other similar kinds of beans.

I had an idea to write a fictional short story based on my father's father's migration journey to the USA and back at the turn of the 20th century and began writing it after lunch. Then a long afternoon walk in the sun enjoying the milder air. We went out separately at different times and then met unexpectedly on the path around the edge of Pontcanna fields, walking the circuit in opposite directions.

After supper I added another couple of pages to my new story, then watched the next double episode of 'Nightsleeper'. It's developing into a story about political intrigue as much as it is about cyber security threats and networking geekery. It's an interesting reminder of how dependent we've become in modern living on digital infrastructure. A huge house of cards in my opinion. No matter how robust and resilient systems may be, their energy consumption globally has as large a carbon footprint as the airline industry. How much does this matter to those in power with planetary heating reaching the point of being irreversible?

Hackjack

A cold dry sunny day with passing clouds and patches light drizzle in the afternoon. Kath came down to Cardiff yesterday to help her friend Emma unpack after her move from London. She popped in to leave her bag and borrow a drill bit and some Rawlplugs to hang the TV on a wall. She stopped for supper with Emma and didn't return until after midnight. It was a delight to see Kath at breakfast before going to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, leaving her to chat with Clare. She told us about Rhiannon's new used car, and how expensive it was to buy, tax and insure. A low mileage eight year old vehicle is now three times the price it would have been before covid, the impact of slow down in new vehicle sales leading to fewer used cars on the market, scarcity driving up prices. We've had our VW Polo six years and it's lost little value as a low mileage vehicle.

There were fifty adults and ten children in church, more than there has been over the summer, now that the holidays are over and school term has started.  I went straight home for lunch after the service. Kath gave us a CD of Sonrisa's latest album, just released, a dozen new songs co-written by Kath and Anto, recorded in Anto's home recording studio up in the attic - lovely sunny music, beautifully crafted.

Mid afternoon, Emma came over to collect Kath and take her back to Penylan to pick up her car, left there overnight, after she sensibly returned from wining and dining by taxi. Clare went with her, curious to see Emma's new abode for herself. I went for a walk, intending to meet up with them in the park when they got back, but by the time they made contact, it was starting to drizzle, so I headed home for tea instead. After having a snack with us, Kath took her leave and returned to Kenilworth

In the evening a new crime thriller series was premiered on BBC 1 about a cyber attack on the UK railway network and a night-sleeper train from Glasgow to London. Fortunately all six episodes are already out on iPlayer so I was able to watch tonight's and tomorrow's in fits and starts while working on a batch of bread dough for baking, walking between lounge and kitchen, Chromebook in hand. It's interesting how certain crime drama series over the past couple of years have portrayed cyber crime incidents, and the impact on politics, society and the media of AI, national security, the economy etc. 

Last night, a Swedish crimmie involving hostage taking and an aircraft's digital control infrastructure taken over by a terrorist hacker. Last year, a Belgian crimmie about bank robbery masterminded by an organised crime group exploiting a hacker. Then a couple of British deep fake dramas, one about the Russian threat, another about state corruption, and now this one about a threat to national infrastructure. 

All of these dramas offer an insight into what happens behind the scenes in a world which is totally alien to most people. If a computer has ever had problems with viruses, leading to account loss, identity theft and money stolen, the idea of it being hijacked will be familiar. This evening's drama gave us a new word 'hackjack', to describe a major component of digital infrastructure being taken over by malicious actors. I don't know if this is jargon actually used by experts on combating cybercrime. I tried googling the word and the only results displayed were related to this series. Will the word go viral now? We'll see.

Proms Last Night

Both Clare and I woke up early to sunshine after another cold clear night. My mind was circulating around an October holiday booking credit card transaction that had crashed as Clare was booking, so I got up and accessed our account to check, and all was in order, nothing taken. Meanwhile Clare was up and making pancakes for breakfast, with mashed avocado as an extra treat this week!

Afterwards Clare continued looking for somewhere to stay with little success initially, until she returned to the site where she'd found something suitable two days ago. Fortunately, the apartment was still bookable, so we now have a week's self catering holiday arranged for mid October in Tenby with an indoor heated swimming pool included in the offer, much to Clare's satisfaction.

Rachel sent me a polished version of her composition 'Birds follow riverbed' re-recorded from scratch. It's a lovely piece of work. It inspired me to write a haiku based on its enigmatic title. A fun exercise to explain in a few words and seventeen syllables: 

'Birds follow river / flowing underground and hidden / in the dry season'

We went out to look for a local eaterie where we could have lunch. Everywhere along Pontcanna Street was full, so we went to King's Yard and ate pizza there instead. It was very crowded, with two events going on the the social spaces of the main building, street market stalls in the yard and every table outdoors occupied with others eating fast food, drinking beer and talking loudly. We sat at a table indoors in the small cafe where Pete was playing his guitar and telling stories with his mate Roger sitting at another table chatting with people. Music was playing from behind the counter in the anteroom of the dining area, and from the kitchen of the pizzeria nearby. Not exactly the calmest environment to eat in.

Clare went for a walk in the park and I went straight home and slept for an hour to make up for waking up early, and then walked circuits of Thompson's Park in the sun for an hour and a half. Then after supper, the Last Night of the Proms, and I watched the last episode of 'Hostage' on More Four during the first half.

Revisiting East Berlin 1989

The temperature went down to six degrees overnight under a clear sky, and it was bright and sunny when I woke up, a welcome start to the day, though clouds appeared as the temperature went up later to fifteen degrees. After breakfast, I listened to this week's edition of 'The Reunion' on BBC Radio Four. It was all about the events surrounding the fall of the Berlin wall, and featured interviews with a variety of East and West Berliners, witnesses to a unique moment in European history. I was much moved by this, as I was part of a party of Church visitors to Leipzig from Halesowen Parish was in East Berlin the night Erik Honecker resigned on 18th October 1989, just three weeks before the wall fell. 

It was an unforgettable moment in my life, which inspired me to look for a job in the diocese of Europe, landing us in Geneva three years later. I exchanged messages about the programme with my old friend and ex-colleague Geoff Johnston. He followed me into Europe as Chaplain in Nerja when he retired some ten years later. He still has strong links with friends and colleagues in German from those years. He told me he's going there to visit them next month.

Clare went out for a McTimoney treatment, mid-morning, so I started preparing lunch and then went to get a few items I've persistently forgotten lately. I left my Fitbit on charge and was annoyed with myself for being forgetful. I was surprised to find when I returned that my phone kept on recording steps with the Fitbit app detached from it. It's not terribly accurate, as the phone wasn't in my pocket at home, but it gives a fair measure of the distance covered. The devices are about 95% accurate and can give false readings if the built-in pedometer is confused by movements which aren't really steps. I don't believe that I walk 200 steps between falling asleep and getting up, even if I do wake up four times in between.

After lunch we had a message from Kath telling us that she's booked a three night stay for the family in a barn conversion accommodating eight for three days over Christmas, on a hill farm in Monmouthshire near Gilwern. It's a family first for us in a beautiful location. It's AirBn'b self catering, and we'll have to take all we need with us, a real logistical challenge for a family of foodies! I had an email from cousin Dianne about dates of Great Uncle William's spell of military service in the colonial Indian North West Frontier region at the turn of the 20th century, fifteen years before he was killed in the second battle of the Somme. I needed to do some additional fact checking before responding, but couldn't narrow it down beyond 1901-1908. It seems her brother Guy's grandson is taking an interest in William's story.

There was no rain throughout the day. Though it was cold, bright sunshine made for pleasant walking along the river. After supper I watched another episode of 'Lolita Lobosco'. Despite the tragic crime story, it was full of romance and hilarious incidents, portrayals of family life and long standing friendship. Books the series is based on, written by Gabriella Genisi, portray the mainly masculine domain of traditional policing is like under the leadership of a strong assertive woman who demands and deserves respect. As uplifting as they are entertaining. 

The voice of Middle England

Another cold but sunny day, waking up at half past seven, posting the Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp before 'Thought for the Day'. After breakfast I spent an hour shredding bank statements part of my  ongoing effort to clear my study of redundant books and documents.

Then I spent tme familiarising myself with aspects of my new Chromebook, branded as Chromebook Plus elements with which I'm unfamiliar, or which I've forgotten exist, or are realy new. I wanted to find out if I could have two window panels side by side on screen, one containing a document and the other running the sound editing web app 'Twisted Wave', something I tried in the past, but never had occasion to use in earnest.

Once I established how to do this I recorded another recent poem with my new mic. I was pleased with my success, but rather than learning to edit the audio file there and then, I transferred it to my Windows laptop to edit with Audacity, my default sound editor on Windows and Linux. Later I discovered that it possible to activate what's called a Linux container on the Chromebook and install Audacity for Linux for use. Clever stuff, more to learn when there's time, eventually. Transferring the audio file required saving it to Google Drive and then downloading it on the Windows machine with Chrome browser. There is a facility called 'Quick Share' which uses Wifi and Bluetooth to send files to nearby switched on devices, something else I need to learn when it's necessary or convenient.

While I was investigating this, Clare was in town buying fish at Ashton's in the Market, so I cooked lunch. Pork steak for me, veggie burger for Clare. Having had a disturbed night's sleep, I tried to sleep after we'd eaten, but without success. Clare dozed off and was sleeping when I went out for a two hour walk. On the last stretch, sitting on a park bench enjoying the sunshine despite the chill wind, I saw Clare come walking across the grass towards me. She then went to the Coop while I went  home and put the kettle on for tea. 

In the evening, I watched the last double episode of 'Sherwood', which broadly speaking was about the need for communities to take more responsibility and reconcile its legacy of division to face the problems caused by rival drug gangs with their own perverse version of the rule of law, and show good-will towards the police instead, by supporting them and stop seeing police as adversaries. The story line was complex not easy to follow, but involved a succession of revenge killings between two rival families. Quite apart from actors' poor diction, the Nottinghamshire accent isn't one familiar to me, making it difficult to follow the dialogue on times.  The accent seems to be a variant of the East Midlands, influenced by the county's proximity to South Yorkshire. Interesting.

Owain sent me a link to a Financial Times web page about scammers using fake versions of Insolvency Service paper documents and on-line content to defraud failing businesses. He told me his organisation's press office had fed the content of an article to financial journalists, but it was his team that researched and supplied information used. The research project itself had started before he was employed, but then stalled until he found it and pursued to to completion - a long slow process with its own in-built obstacles. He's hoping radio and TV will use the story, especially in the light of the growing number of companies falling into financial troubles in this decade of economic woe. Seeing this through has given him job satisfaction, although he's still poorly paid in an organisation which undervalues its personnel.

Somewhere different for planned holidays

Another cold cloudless night followed by cold sunny morning, with the prevailing wind coming from the north east now bringing clouds and light showers later in the day. Last week, Rhiannon finally passed her driving test, and now she has acquired her first car, a little SEAT Mii town runabout, with the same engine as our VW Polo but quicker, as it's lighter. It's the equivalent of a VW Up!. Same engineering, equally silly names. Kath sent us a photo of Rhiannon smiling, standing proudly next to it.

I managed to leave the house in time to shop for food bank offerings on the way to St Catherine's to celebrate the Eucharist. I had an interesting chat after the service with the mother and baby who came last week. Her husband is Greek, and they're off to visit family in Athens and Naxos next week. She's interested in the history of the early Christian era and is exploring Eastern Orthodox culture and religion, so we had things in common, including several islands we've visited. I then collected this week's veggie bag from Chapter Arts on my way home. Clare was cooking a prawn stir fry with rice for lunch. 

After we'd eaten I did the weekly grocery shopping at the Coop. When Clare returned with the Beanfreaks groceries, we discussed where to go for a week's holiday in October. A trip to Tenby to stay in a holiday self catering apartment is what we're think of. Now we must book it. Kath has been hunting for a self catering house to rent in a nice location for our Christmas gathering. She's identified a couple of places in the vicinity of Abergavenny accommodating seven. This is a change for us as we've alternated between Cardiff and Kenilworth ever since we returned to the UK.

I went for a walk in the park before supper and bumped into our Spanish neighbour Miriam, whom I haven't seen since before I went to Nerja. We chatted for so long that I had to curtail my walk in order to be back home in time. I spent the evening recording the rest of next week's Morning Prayer with my new microphone, making the video slide show, then uploading it to YouTube. Then I went out again and completed my step quota for the day before bed.

A house near us in Llanfair road that was in a delapidated condition when its owner died, has undergone a complete renovation with new floors, roof tiles windows and doors, plus redecoration over the past six months. On Monday a few items of furnigure and a large vase containing an artificial flower were visible in the front room - no blinds or curtains added. Yesterday a For Sale notice went up. A quick search revealed an asking price of £600,000 for a four bedroom dwelling with loft conversion. That's a hundred thousand more than the renovated house next door to us, which went on the market for £500,000. 

It's a crazy amount of money to ask for a turn of the 20th century gentrified terraced house. It's no wonder that first time buyers on moderate incomes cannot afford to buy homes in the sort of neighbourhood they grew up in. I wonder how long it will take to sell? Our street now has several houses to let. Last week a letting sign went up on one, and within  a handful of people were loitering outside, waiting for a letting agent to turn up. Speculative property developers are still intent on building high rise student apartments in and around the city centre, even though the lucrative overseas student intake is shrinking and these new properties are out of the price range of UK students. Why on earth aren't developers investing in family homes when there's such a scarcity?

Microphone bargain

A clear night and a cold bright start to the day, but it clouded over later in the morning and rained for most of the afternoon - definitely autumnal now. After breakfast Clare's study group arrived and I worked on preparing Morning Prayer for next Thursday, and wrote a reflection to go with it. Clare cooked mackerel fillets with veg for lunch. 

When we'd eaten I searched on-line for a local retailer stocking microphones, as Rachel and Owain have both encouraged me to buy a decent condenser mic for making audio recordings. The PMT music store in Lower St Mary Street looked like the most likely place to visit. I braved the rain and took a 62 bus to town and went straight there. I explained I was looking for something for podcast audio and was shown an 'own brand' entry level mic which would connect to a laptop or a phone via USB. It was discounted from £40 to £22.50, an irresistible offer, given that my needs aren't sophisticated.

I returned home and assembled the device for testing. It has a USB-C port and a 3.5 jack plug for listening to audio output if needed. It attaches through the USB-B cable provided or using a double ended USB-C. It works with a Windows laptop, or a Chromebook, or a phone. Although a Plug & Play device, setting it up to use on Windows was more fiddly than the Chromebook, which shows attached devices and lets you swap between them straight from the initial settings menu. No need to dig around. The Chromebook uses the Twisted Wave cloud app for recording and editing. I habitually use Audacity on Windows and Linux, and that was what I used for a trial run to record the reflection I'd written earlier in the day.

The sound quality is a great improvement on my digital dictating device, recording output is in stereo, but in effect it's two identical mono channels. It's sensitive, but the sound file captured directly by Audacity is immediately editable. The recording volume seems low with the mic a foot from my face but amplifies well so background noise can be cleaned up leaving only bumps and pops to be taken out. That's the tricky part. I spent most of the evening editing files I created, and was satisfied the end product was worth both the effort and outlay. I re-recorded and edited the poem I wrote for Rachel and set it to her. Then I realised I'd only walked for an hour so far today. Thankfully it was no longer raining. I went out and walked in the dark in Llandaff Fields for an hour, and didn't see a soul. Very calming after an evening of concentrated  effort. And so to bed.

Well told story

Blue sky all day, somewhat colder. Housework after breakfast, then a walk together across Llandaff Fields and through the village to reach Rookwood Hospital's vaccination centre for our RSV vaccinations. As we arrived, Diana and Peter were leaving by car after receiving theirs. Clare decided to wait for a bus to take her back to Pontcanna. I walked, arriving home just five minutes before Clare, and was already cooking a veggie sauce for a pasta lunch.

I walked in Thompsons Park later in the afternoon and had an idea for another poem, this time about a heron. I sat down and drafted it when I got back home.

After supper I watched the last two concluding episodes of 'Sambre' in which the unsolved crimes of the Sambre Valley rapist emerge again as a cold case taken on by a very experienced investigator. He and his team review all the evidence and make progress when it's realised the older crimes and more recent cases have the same modus operandi, fitting the localised pattern described by the forensic statistical analyst. In the end, the rapist is caught and interviewed, as are his family and associates. The community that knows him is shocked. Nobody wants to believe such a 'nice' family man could do such awful things. Local police are faced with the fact that their own football coach and drinking buddy was never considered a suspect. At his trial fifty seven women were identified  as his victims over thirty years, with many of them in attendance.

Why did it take so long to stop the man? First a male dominated police force back in the '80s weren't as diligent in their investigation of violence against women. Change in attitudes, acknowledgement and  pursuit of equality and diversity in society generally, began to influence policing. Investigative methods in the form of DNA and statistical profiling of criminal behaviour radically transformed crime detection of all kinds. This evolutionary process was the social and cultural backdrop to the whole story and the roles occupied by different people over three decades the constant around which the drama is presented. It was well acted, and the suffering of women sensitively portrayed, at uncomfortably close quarters. It more of an educational watch than an entertaining one. I hope it gets the recognition I think it deserves with an media industry award. 

Creative challenge

Late last night I had a call from Rachel whose currently spending a month in Tucson Arizona as an Artist in Residence, given the use of a house in a beautiful location where she has freedom and opportunity to make and record any kind of new music she fancies. She's taken all her favourite instruments and pieces of music making technology with her and is having the time of her life. Normally she has to fit creativity into the struggle to earn her keep. 

She wanted to tell me about a composition she's working on combining recorded loops, live voice, 'cello and guitar. The inspiration came from learning about watercourses surrounding the city of Tucson, dried up for most of the year, but still holding water from the last monsoon rains deep underground. It seems migrating birds follow the river bed whether they see water flowing or not. This image was what inspired her.  The piece was still being made but she played it back to me over the phone. The sound quality was poor but I got the concept, and suggested that a poetic voice-over might help her audience visualise those birds flying over an arid landscape where water lies deep down. I went to bed wondering if I could write something she could use.

I work up to another grey day with light rain in the afternoon. At least we didn't get wet going to St Catherine's for the Eucharist. It was an All-age Family Eucharist this morning with a congregation of about thirty adults and ten small children. A few of the smaller ones were very noisy and ran around the nave non-stop for much of the service, making it hard to concentrate on worship. I thought about going to the Cathedral instead but decided to accompany Clare to church. Not a good decision on my part. It's important to include children in worship, but they need socialising, taught by parents to be aware of other people in the same space. It's a process of learning for everyone, but is it one we're honestly engaged with and discussing? I don't know.

The last hymn called 'Think of a world', written in 1969  a much used as a school assembly hymn intended to give thanks for the environment we inhabit and all its components, things we took for granted back in the day. Its opening stanza is 

'Think of a world without any flowers, / Think of a world without any trees, / Think of a sky without any sunshine, / Think of the air without any breeze.'

It continues in other verses to imagine a world without animals and humans. In the fifty five years since it was written, the unthinkable has started to happen. Species loss, habitat loss, climate stability and so on. I came away from church feeling downcast rather than uplifted. An example of outdated irrelevant hymnody. We'd have been better off to end with 'Where have all the flowers gone', asking ourselves why the biosphere is deteriorating and what do we need to do to heal the world.

It started to rain early afternoon, so I donned rain jacket and trousers for my walk in the park, I left just as Clare's study group was about to arrive for a special session. Fortunately the rain wasn't too heavy, so I didn't get soaked. While I walked, thinking about Rachel's composition project, images and ideas turned into words and phrases, so I stopped user a tree and drafted a poem using Google Keep to make a note of it.

When I got home, I finished the poem and sent it to Rachel. In the meanwhile she'd sent me the sound file she'd played me over the phone. I recorded the poem and edited together the two files using Audacity to give her an idea of how it would work. My voice recording microphone isn't brilliant and needs a lot of tweaking in Audacity for my weekly prayer video.. I think it would work better with her voice recorded on a higher quality device rather than mine. Let's see how this fits with her. This was a pleasurable occupation for me on a Sunday, a reminder that I need creative projects to sustain my spirit and morale.

After supper I watched another episode of 'Sambre', dealing the response of the Mayor in a town along the eponymous river to news of a Council employee being raped, annoying the judiciary and police by issuing a public safety warning to female citizens, despite mounting evidence of a serial rapist going back decades the forces of law and order aren't proactive in pursuit of a perpetrator, so a statistical analyst is engaged to map incidents and see if they can narrow down the rapist's habitual starting point, a technique originating in profiling serial killers in Canada apparently. This was an innovation when it was first used twenty years ago, and is now part of the forensic toolkit for tracking serial offenders. It's a great way to use movie drama to explain historic information and, without benefit of a commentary.

Beach butterflies

More clouds and rain to start the day. I slept well and got up late. Clare was already cooking pancakes for breakfast. The rain stopped mid morning so we drove to Cold Knap in Barry, walked around the pond, had lunch in Mr Villa's Fish Restaurant, then went for another walk along the road above the beach. 

The tide was out, almost as far as it goes, revealing the full extent of that vast deposit of pebbles arrayed in a sinuous curve around the bay by tides and wind over centuries, about fifty feet deep and a hundred and twenty yards in breadth. Sparse vegetation has taken hold among the pebble at the very top level, mauve coloured marsh mallow flowers provide a splash of colour among the pale grey stones. 

I was surprised to see half a dozen Small White butterflies flitting between the plants. I followed one with black wingtips in search of a photo. It visited every plant over a stretch of a hundred years, then settled on a big plant along with four others. It's the most butterflies I've seen in one place for a very long time. I got a photo of a couple mating. They move so fast it's hard to get a good photo of them unless they settle, and it's never for long.

We were home again by a quarter to four, and I went for another hour's walk down to the river before the next bout of rain was due. The Taff wasn't as swollen as I expected, given so much rain this past few days. Today's photos I uploaded when I got home. You can see them here.

After supper I found something interesting to watch on BBC Four - a fictionalised French drama telling the real story of a serial rapist whose crimes were committed over a period of thirty years in the vicinity of the river Sambre crossing the border of north eastern France and Belgium near the town of Mauberge. As the third of six episodes was showing, I found it on BBC iPlayer and watched the first two instead. 

It was told like a documentary, with each episode focusing on an individual in the story; the Victim, The investigating Magistrate, the Mayor, the statistical Scientist, the Police Commandant and the rapist. It's a useful introduction to the way the French criminal legal system works, different from ours. I could have done with knowing this before starting to watch 'Spiral/Engrenages' over six years ago as it took me ages to work out who's who and what their roles are. It's an effective as well as informative story telling format, with fewer flashbacks moving for most part from the late 1980s to the present day and charting the evolution of attitudes towards women and sex crimes over recent decades.

Battery boon

Oh dear, rain overnight, followed by more rain all morning. I woke up at the usual time and listened to the Today programme until I got up for breakfast at eight thirty. Former Prime Minister Sir John Major gave an interview in which he talked about his life-long love of cricket and how it consoled and allowed him to have a life outside of politics. Interesting for a change to hear an interview that didn't treat a public figure as if they were an adversary.

I'm often annoyed at how often interviewers are unnecessarily confrontational, asking questions for which there's evidently no answer, because respondents are duty bound to work through a process which isn't yet complete, and it's vital for everyone's benefit not to speculate about a conclusion. It's often said there's no such thing as a stupid question but what happens is inappropriately timed questions are fired at the subject in the hope that chipping away at the issue until something newsworthy is uttered.

It stopped raining at midday, so I went to the pharmacy to collect the remainder of my prescription order. On the way I called into the King's Road Co-op for a three grocery items, two of which they didn't have, which meant walking to the Tesco store at Canton Cross on the way home. Clare cooked some fresh sardines with veg for lunch, succulent poached in a pan that sits on top of the veg steamer. 

After lunch I spent an hour figuring out how to extract photographs from Instagram postings. It wasn't as straightforward as I imagined, but in the end I was able to extract decent sized screenshots from the app on my Windows PC. That was before I found an easier to use facility on my new Chromebook. I've used it every day since I first charged it on Monday this week, for one to two hours, and it still about two hour's use in it before it needs another charge.

It didn't start raining again until half past five, so I had a couple of hours for my walk in the park without needing a raincoat. Rain continued right through the evening. Reports of flash flooding in some Valleys towns

After supper I watched another 'Lolita Lobosco' episode which successfully combines domestic comedy, romance, glamour, nostalgia, Italian, cuisine and a serious criminal investigation in one story. It reminds me of 'Inspector Montalbano' stories, except it's strongly feminist in character. Luisa Ranieri who plays the part of Lolita is married to Luca Zingaretti. Gabriela Ginesi the author of the original detective novels was inspired by the Montalbano novels, and Zingaretti's TV production company was involved in making the series, which helps explain the similarities of dramatic form and content.

After this, tonight's suspenseful episode of Swedish hostage drama 'Hostage', which seems to be turning out to be a spy drama. A bit confusing as it's laced with flashbacks. 

Outreach from RWCMD

Overcast and raining this morning. I posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp just before 'Thought for the Day' and dozed until half past eight with the news on in the background, and then got up. After breakfast, I completed next week's Morning Prayer video and uploaded it. 

Chicken with chorizo for my lunch. Clare had salmon. We had an invitation to 'Connect' event at RWCMD mid-afternoon in which staff presented various aspects of the College's work with its 900 students - actors, musicians, composers, singers, conductors, stage and costume designers with a drink and a scone in the foyer to finish. It was still raining as we set out, and dauntingly few buses into town, so we walked. I took  a route that offered the shortest direction with optimal tree cover, but was soaked by the time we arrived.

The presentations were interesting and inspiring, though music for the introductory video was painfully loud. Katie Bartels the 2024 Stoutzker prizewinner, played two remarkable and technically difficult pieces on the flute to top and tail the presentations. A phenomenal young virtuoso. It was marvellous to learn of the range of College community projects providing opportunities for students to work with performing artists in residential workshops and events, practising the artistic disciplines with which they hope to earn a living after graduation.

By tea time it had stopped raining, so we were able to re-trace our steps across Bute Park and up through Pontcanna Fields back home in time for supper. Before we went out earlier I checked my Panasonic TZ95 and found it wouldn't switch on when I wanted to take a photo of a large bird on a TV antenna on the other side of the street. There wasn't time to investigate the reason, so I grabbed my battered Sony HX90 and used it instead. I don't use it much nowadays, but the battery hasn't lost charge. The first thing to do when we got back was put the TZ95 on charge, leave it for a while, then try switching it on. Panic over. The battery had been totally flat.

A few days ago one of my Olympus cameras needed recharging as well, and this I did, forgetting that I had another in need of a re-charge too. Slowly I've got used to the TZ95 and its peculiarities, still on automatic settings. Its extensive manual options are still beyond me, but it gives me some good results, now that I've learned to use the viewfinder without altering the focal point on the touch screen with the tip of my nose.

This evening, I went for a walk after dark in the park to complete my daily quota and get a breath of fresh air. The rain had ceased and a warm wind was blowing, such a change after a wet afternoon. Before I went out I found that Channel 4's Walter Presents is now showing a second series of the excellent 'Lolita Lobosco' stories. I couldn't resist watching the first episode before going to bed. Late again.

A damning report from the Grenfell Enquiry

Cloudy and mild again today. I was unaccountably slow getting going this morning, and was slightly late for my GP surgery blood test repeat appointment, but late enough to present a problem. The phlebotomist extracted blood with easy, as I'd made sure to drink enough water beforehand to ensure my forearm veins would be visible, as advised by the nurse who saw me last week. I went straight from the surgery across the road to collect my medication from the pharmacy, and was told that the order was incomplete as a new delivery was awaited, so I'll have to return to pick up the rest later this week. 

Then I went to St Catherine's and celebrated the Eucharist with a congregation of ten, including a young mother with a nine week old baby who'd joined us for the service. I was delighted to have the opportunity to give the infant a blessing during Communion - a rare treat for me these days. After coffee and chat in the church hall, I picked up this week's veggie bag on my way home. Clare was out having a chiropracter treatment, but had left lunch for us on the stove, veggies and rice already cooked, awaiting the addition of cooked prawns to complete the dish. 

I was disconcerted to find signs that Clare had left in a hurry. She was late getting back, and told me that she'd forgotten about the appointment until the therapist called her to check. As there was no following appointment, Clare dashed to the treatment room and arrived late home. She needed a long rest after we'd eaten, so I went and retrieved her Beanfreaks grocery order. Then, a walk in Llandaff Fields, just as the park was filling up with groups of men and/or women going for a run after work. I was surprised at how busy it was. 

On the evening news the final report on the Grenfell tower block fire which killed 72 people seven years ago, describing in detail the extent of a systemic failure by a wide range of organisations to install fire safe cladding from government policy makers, safety regulators, building companies, material designers and suppliers, building companies, and those who marketed deficient products to the industry. The judge openly spoke of dishonesty on the part of some responsible. The Police have been conducting their own enquiries in parallel. It may take a year for them and the Crown Prosecution Service to reach a decision about bringing criminal charges. It'll mean a longer wait for residents who lost their homes, and bereaved families before justice is done. But how is it possible to indict an entire society with a culture willing to do everything on the cheap and cut regulatory corners designed to keep people safe?

After supper we watched another edition of 'The Repair Shop' a programme which values skills and high standards of quality workmanship. A real antidote to a throwaway society. Then I watched a couple of short episodes of 'The Golden Cobra', an animated cartoon series which rather crudely satirises dystopic Valleys culture, set in an Ebbw Vale curry house. Funny, sort of, but it left me with an unpleasant feeling that some content was borderline racist.

Before going to bed, I logged into my Inland Revenue account and filled in my tax declaration. With the list I'd made of various income calculations to hand, it only took me half an hour. It's a relief to have got this done in stages though it's relatively easy with due preparation. I have no new source of income, and revenue from church fees has diminished so HMRC's calculation was quite accurate. Nothing owing, just a small rebate. I can sleep now with a clearer conscience.

Saving lives in Cardiff

Another warmish cloudy day with sun breaking through in the afternoon. Clare went out to her study group after breakfast. I hung a load of washing on the line and it was dry enough to take in again by the end of the morning. I wrote a reflection for next Thursday's Morning Prayer and recorded it, then prepared lunch ready to cook when Clare returned.

I walked to Thompsons park after we'd eaten and found myself thinking about the trunk of a tree which was blown down in a gale as long as ten years ago. It gave me ideas for a poem, so I sat on a bench in the sun and composed it, noting it down on my phone with Google Keep. It's the third poem I've written in the past two months. Since returning from Nerja three months ago, I've only had to write two sermons instead of one a week. It's made room to satisfy the creative impulse in a different way.

On my circuits of the top field in the park I noticed a lady sat under a tree writing or so I thought. On my final round, I stopped to take photos of lichen growing on the structures of two park benches. She got up to leave, and greeted me saying: "Glad I'm not the only one to find a park bench interesting!" It turned out she wasn't writing, but drawing the bench near the tree where she'd been sitting. Time out for her before starting a new teaching job tomorrow. There was a fresh breeze as I sat writing on another bench. It drove me home for tea and cake to warm up before finishing my day's walk in Llandaff Fields.

After supper, I started to gather necessary income data for filling in my tax return, a chore I've been avoiding for weeks. Then we watched the third in a series of hospital documentaries showcasing amazing hi-tech surgery on three different patients, filmed at UHW entitled 'Saving lives in Cardiff'. It was impressive. I must watch the first two episodes on iPlayer now. 

Then more grim news of illegal migrant lives lost at sea, more deaths in a missile strike in Ukraine, a child murdered by his mother, and a teenager murdering an eighty year old man walking his dog here in Britain. In every direction, it seems the value placed on human life is being eaten away by malign forces corrupting minds and souls.

Bargain acquisition

Another cloudy day, though not completely overcast. I had a dentist's appointment to go to mid morning, and drove to in Llandaff North surgery. The roads were quieter than I expected, given that schools are due to re-start this week. Inexplicably got the time wrong and arrived an hour early. Better than an hour late I guess. Fortunately Mr Benfield was free and able to see me, as it was just for a checkup. He spotted some decay around a back tooth filling so I booked in for a repair in two weeks time. £60 in advance nowadays. 

With time in hand, I popped into the Lidl's store nearby for nuts, rye break and crispbread, the returned home, did my share of this week's housework and cooked a courgette and butter bean dish with rice for lunch. I decided last night to take advantage of the discounted Chromebook offer I saw in John Lewis' and went catch a 61 bus into town. I saw two buses heading to Pentrebane, but two buses in the other direction didn't show up, so I walked to Canton Cross and caught a 17 instead. Afternoon buses on this route don't seem to run to the state timetable, apart from the school buses along this route between three and four.

The Chromebook salesperson checked the stock inventory and found there was one available, although it took a while to hunt down. It was too big to fit into the rucksack I'd brought with me, so I had to carry it in a plastic bag with an uncomfortably thin handle. I went to the bus stop, and only had to wait five minutes for a 61 to arrive. It wasn't very full until we reached Canton, and then a lot more people got on and the bus was quite crowded, mostly with older people. Many seem to find it easier to shop in Canton High Street as it's often called, with its variety of small shops of every kind. The city centre with all its big and prestigious retail outlets demands too much energy for older shoppers to navigate routinely.

I walked for an hour in the park when I got back, and left unboxing and setting up the new Chromebook until later. It was 60% charged, and I topped it up to confirm the charger works. The initial setup process is quite ingenious in conjunction with a smartphone. On boot up, it downloaded the most up to date version of the Chrome operating system which took fifteen minutes. Installing the several Google accounts I use meant repeating the initial set-up procedure each time, and each requires you to jump through all the usual security hoops. It's a pain if you can't remember all the passwords and have to go and look them up, but the end result is worth having. Full customisation of the set-up took longer than expected so a break for supper intervened.

A 14.5" touch screen, a couple of useful USB-B ports plus one USB-C and a SD card slot. Display options offer the possibility of changing the colour of menu and tab background to match your chosen wallpaper. My colour at the moment is a pale lime green, but there are several ways in which I can change this on top of options for mouse pointer display and speed, plus touchscreen gestures. A tad more sophisticated than the Asus, which'll retain for use on my travels, as it's smaller to pack. I can't believe that I paid £20 less for this than the last one I bought five and half years ago. 

I watched the fourth episode of 'Sherwood' this evening. A plot about rival gangs I'm finding difficult to follow, not least because some of the characters' regional accent is at its broadest and sometimes dialogue is delivered almost sotto voce. It may be in an effort to sound natural, but it may be the director is unaware that the dialogue isn't easy to follow. But this isn't the first time that mumbled dialogue in films and TV dramas has been hard to follow, and it's something critics and viewers complain about.

Early Sunday hospital appointment

Overcast today but fairly warm and no wind. Clare was up very early and out of the house at seven thirty in a taxi to take her to Llandough for a colonoscopy appointment at eight which was when I got up and made myself breakfast. This is her second recent weekend hospital visit, part of a diagnostic process now being speeded up by the local health board in a valiant effort to reduce waiting times.

She sent me a message to warn me about traffic diversions on account of the 10k road run today. At least this was what her taxi driver said. On such occasions the city centre roads close to traffic. Signs in the park this past week suggested to me that the route would be for the most part up and down the Taff and not really affect traffic going west from the city. 

Anyway I decided to heed the warning. When Clare called me at nine I was still eating breakfast. I drove up to Culverhouse Cross and down the A4232 to the Leckwith junction to take the road uphill from there to Llandough. There was little traffic, but the diversion doubled the journey time, so it was quarter to ten by the time I picked her up. The road back through Canton was very quiet. The city centre road closure zone started on the other size of the road I was travelling home on. I could have taken the usual route to the Leckwith junction without hindrance. I think the taxi driver's advice was based on experience of the Cardiff Marathon, which certainly does call for road closures to the west and east sides of the centre. For them, any road closure is a nuisance, bad for business. 

Clare went straight to bed to recover from the procedure, and I went to St Catherine's on my own for the Eucharist. We were three dozen this morning. I was amused by the surreal sight of a bar counter with half a dozen beer taps parked on the path outside the church hall when I arrived, remnant of a party booking in the hall yesterday, awaiting collection. It had gone by the end of the service, and another van was in the same place, crammed with inflatable playground equipment. I'm not sure if it was collecting or delivering. The hall is very well used for non church social events and activities and earns a decent and much needed revenue. Organist Colin has managed bookings for years but in now looking for someone to do the job in his place, a lot of responsibility for a volunteer.

Clare was up and about when I returned, lunch prepared and ready to cook, washing hung out to dry. She didn't take wrong to recover thankfully. An hour's sleep for both of us after we'd eaten, a walk in Llandaff Fields before tea and cake. Following the morning's 10k run, the park was already clean and tidy again, except for a couple of discarded soft drinks bottles to pick up and drop in the nearest litter bin. 

Light rain was forecast, so Clare donned her rain trousers. It's often been the case that when she wears them it fails to rain - a little joke we share between us. Today, half way around our walking circuit we stopped so she could remove the rain trousers and hey presto! It started to drizzle. Fortunately not to heavily, but it did make us laugh. 

Before supper I went out again for some bananas and Ryvita, but neither of the shops that were open had the crisp bread we habitually eat. I did spot packets of rice cakes however, which we eat as and when we can get them. They are usually stocked less frequently than Ryvita, so at least I bought something I'd forgotten we were lacking. When I opened by rucksack, I found a net of garlic bulbs under my purchases. The rucksack was on my shoulders while I was going around the store and only opened after I'd paid at the checkout. I must have bought them on a previous shopping trip, maybe some weeks ago, but I don't recall when I last used the bag. So strange!

In today's news, reports of the death of six hostages held by Hamas in tunnels beneath Rafah Gaza, killed it seems while fighting was going on in streets above. Israel states they were shot before rescuers could reach them. Hamas says they were killed by Israeli bombing. What the truth of the matter is will be determined by a coroner's inquest in due course. A humanitarian pause in fighting in Gaza has just started to allow mass vaccination of children under ten against polio, which has re-emerged due to prevailing conditions throughout the territory. Meanwhile security operations and killings continue in  the Palestinian West Bank territory. Tens of thousands of Israelis have demonstrated against the Netanyahu government tonight in protest against its refusal to sign a deal for the release of hostages and Palestinian prisoners as a first step in peace negotiations. I can't see this happening until this cruel extremist government falls and is replaced by one that acknowledges the humanity of Palestinians and accepts their right to have territory which truly is their own.  

After supper we watched another very interesting edition of the 'Antiques Roadshow'. Then I watched the third episode of 'Sherwood' before turning in for the night with the sound of rain, the only sound to be heard in the silence of night.