Dad's 'cello was ready for collection after repairs at 'Cardiff Violins', so we went into town together after breakfast, but first I needed to buy a suitable Christmas present for Clare. I'm hopeless at choosing presents and would rather buy something she knows she wants and is happy with. We went to John Lewis' and found a lovely soft Kashmir wool jumper. Just right, what a relief! We'd not thought through how to pay the repair bill, so we went to check this out at the Santander bank main branch. The gave me an opportunity to find out if my record I keep of my credit card PIN was correct. It wasn't, so I ordered a new one. When we went to pick up the 'cello, I took some photos of the the shop interior, so beautiful with scores of violins arrayed on its walls. I took a dozen photos for pleasure and send to Rachel. Here they are.
We had thought about taking a taxi home, but having walked with it into town, I wanted to walk home with it. The weather was just about merciful, except for the occasional nerve wracking gust of wind but I got it home without incident, communing with my father fifty years dead, as I walked through the park.
Fran and Mark invited us to their Christmas soiree in Penarth, started many years ago by our mutual friend Russell Evans and now continued by Fran, with many of their friends and associates and some newcomers too, gathered to share the pleasure of an evening of carols, music, readings, meditative reflection on the lighting of the Christmas tree along with conversation over food. It's a wonderful warm relaxed occasion, the best kind of domestic social ritual, different from an liturgical one yet bearing so many similarities due to its spiritual depth. Offered by laity not clergy, I hasten to add!
Clare and I sang the plygain carol 'Y fore dydd nadolig' with drone accompaniment from Mark on viola. On previous occasions I has been asked to make a verbal contribution of some kind. I was uncertain about what to offer until late in the afternoon. Then, about half an hour before we were due to leave, out of the blue an idea arrived. I wrote rapidly in pencil until I had a poem in blank verse about the obscurity of the birth of the Christ child manifested in the obscurity of the birth of children in Gaza under violent assault. It was raw unrefined, even after I'd typed and printed it. Clare said she thought it was powerful. When I read it, close to tears, it was acknowledged with thoughtful silence.
We bought train tickets when we went into town on a bus that took us to the new bus Interchange, before going to John Lewis', and took the 61 just after six to take us there again, to take the train for the twelve minute journey to Penarth. Fran lives 5-10 minutes walk from Dingle Road station. This was so much more convenient than driving in the dark and having to find a parking space in a neighbourhood that we don't know and is as hard to park in as is Meadow Street. BY not taking the car, I didn't lose my parking space outside the house. It's not unusual to go out for a night time event by car, losing the space and being obliged to park ten minutes walk away. Not pleasant when it's wet and cold.
We were fortunate to be offered a lift home by one of the participants in the soiree, so we were back in time to go straight to bed, and not needing to relax after such a peaceful evening.
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