The passing of a prophet for our age

The air temperature dropped in the night. I had to get up and find a hat to wear in bed to stay warm but I didn't lose much sleep fortunately. It was zero degrees when I got up but no frost just a dry day. Although my head was clear, the morning meds had an unusually strong impact on me, lasting into the afternoon. I  don't know why, but it slowed me down and made concentration hard work to turn an album of photos into a video slideshow of Rhiannon's 21 years. It's her 22nd birthday today. I made her a digital birthday card and recorded a sung greeting from Clare and I as well. 

After lunch I had a call from a medic working with Dr Tom Hughes, asking me questions about the nasty effect the statins are having on me. A lengthy interview, challenging me to describe accurately what I have noticed recently and back in 2007 when I first renounced them because of ill effects. The stroke has made my reaction much more sensitive. The real concern is the combined effect of taking the Losartan as well. After a twenty five minute conversation, I was promised another call next Tuesday to report his findings and propose an alternative statin. Progress!

In the mail, a final account statement from TalkTalk. I was mentally drained to deal with it after talking on the phone for so long, so I put it on one side without opening it. I have yet to deal with Owain's draft letter of complaint about this to OFCOM.

In the news headlines today, the death at 84 was announced of the Reverend Jesse Jackson, one America's great civil rights advocates, and successor of Martin Luther King. An outstanding preacher and evangelist for social justice. His inspirational exhortation "Keep hope alive. Keep hope alive. Keep hope alive!" was the call of a twentieth century prophet. He worked tirelessly on the economic front to open career paths for poor and downtrodden black people. May he rest in peace and rise in glory. 

It's also the anniversary of the martyrdom of Archbishop Janani Luwum today as well, a prophet and a moral and spiritual giant of our age, who in 1977 met a violent end for speaking truth to power under the tyrannical regime in Uganda of Idi Amin

I went out for a walk in Llandaff Fields at three when the after effect of the meds and a lengthy telephone conversation started to wear off. After supper, I found two new crimmies to watch on 'Walter Presents'. A puzzling episode of 'Astrid - Murder in Paris' which I hadn't seen, and a whole new series of 'Indagini de Lolita Lobosco', mixing romantic comedy with arms trafficking and the murder of a secret agent tracking the organised crime gang. All worries set aside for a couple of hours before bed time.

Windy Monday

So good to wake up to sunshine and blue sky, after a night disturbed by worries about making a complaint to OFCOM about TalkTalk's incompetent handling of closing our broadband account. It's hard to focus if the meds are messing with your ability to think. I had a message from Sara to say she'd arrived home after travelling for twenty four hours.

I went to the GP surgery after breakfast with my prescription renewal form, conscious that it can take 48 hours to process the request, I'll have run out of meds before then. I think the staff were aware of the email I sent about the surgery website glitch. I was relieved of the paper renewal forms, and told the prescription would be ready at two this afternoon. It seems a new electronic system is being put into place with the pharmacy across the Kings Road, so that it will be possible for patients to renew prescriptions directly. I'm not sure how this will work. Another phone app probably.

As I approached the surgery entrance, I stopped to allow a woman to pass in front of me. On the whole I'm steady on my feet. I feel less agile at the moment due to the impact of the meds so I'm extra cautious when moving around outdoors. A violent blast of wind nearly blew me over. I just avoided a collision that would have toppled both of us. Quite unnerving. On the way home, empty rubbish bins that had been blown over obstructed the pavement. Pedestrians were walking past them with prams, on the edge of the pavement with traffic approaching them from behind, too close for comfort given the random gusts of wind. Weather warning phone apps cannot protect anyone on foot if they disregard potential hazards in their environment.

After the surgery, I went to Tesco's for a few groceries. I bought a packet of rye flour, as Clare was half way through preparing a batch of mixed grain bread when she realised she'd run out. I bought slices of turkey breast from the fresh meat chiller compartment. I haven't seen turkey meat on sale post Christmas for many years. I popped them in the oven to slow roast when I got home.

After a veggie pasta lunch, I returned to the GP surgery to collect my prescription, and was told that the meds request had been emailed to the pharmacy and would be ready for collection. I received three out of the four items prescribed and must return for the fourth tomorrow afternoon. I was given Clare's Cal-cd prescription to take home with me as well. I picked up a leaflet from the counter announcing the switch to electronic prescription ordering, with information about the phone app, and relevant website. One less piece of paper to lose at the eleventh hour. I just have to be sure not to misplace my phone!

By this afternoon the ill effect of my meds was less pronounced than usual, interfering less with thinking, and I was less sleepy than before despite losing an hour's sleep last night. Does it have anything to do with switching to chamomile tea I wonder? It is regarded for its mild anti-hypertensive and diuretic properties and as a soporific. I've noticed that I don't pee quite such a large volume in the night. I guess I'll find out in the course of time.

I went out for a teatime walk and forgot to put on my smart watch which had been on charge. I used my phone's pedometer to make a guesstimate of my walk in Llandaff Fields, to make sure I spent enough time exercising, even if it won't be on record - a bit obsessive I know, but I know that discipline keeps me fit. That's what counts.

After supper, I got to work on collecting digital photos of Rhiannon since birth, from several albums, to use for a 21st birthday slideshow video. A fiddly job to say the least. Tomorrow I'll enlist Clare's help to record a sound track. Talyaan has requested a selection of video material to turn into a birthday compilation. Heavens - how 21 years just slips by!

Under the weather

Another cold day interspersed with showers and gusts of wind. I woke up to a series of brief WhatsApp messages charting Sara's progress through the night and all day in terrible wet weather - Cardiff, Bristol, Schipol Paris, Gothenburg, with cancellations, delays and long waits  A miserable ending to a delightful weekend. And for Sara, a new job to start tomorrow, exhausted.

Last night I couldn't find the GP's prescription renewal document for meds I will need next week. I don't know where it went after unpacking the parcel containing it two weeks ago. I visited the GP website to request a new prescription, an was greeted by a security alert, as the secure page authorisation had not been updated. I took a screenshot and emailed it to the surgery, but will need to visit the surgery on Monday and ask that a new prescription request be dealt with urgently 

I had quite a good night's sleep, but the poisonous effect of the meds has left me feeling tired and unwell for most of the day. It's so daunting. We walked in the rain to St Catherine's for the Eucharist after breakfast. There were about thirty of us in church. As it's half term, there were no children attending Sunday Club this week.

After lunch I found myself falling asleep at the table, and went to bed for an hour before going out for a walk. I told Kath that I had still not received a bill from TalkTalk. She persuaded Owain to call and help me with an outline draft of a complaint letter for OFCOM, but I couldn't deal with it with a drug dulled brain.

When my mind did clear sufficiently to think and work without making mistakes, I had to focus on next Wednesday's Morning Prayer in case I become too poorly to get any work done. It's Ash Wednesday this week. I recorded and edited the audio I needed, and after supper made the video slideshow for uploading to YouTube. It was a slow process, taking up much of the evening. 

When tidying books and papers on a lounge side table, the missing prescription turned up, in an unexpected pile of stuff. Prescription panic over now, thank heavens! 

I was glad to take refuge in bed early before report of Sara's arrival home made my phone buzz. Peace of mind now. 

Fight cancellation equals travel chaos

Sara arrived from Elgano's to have breakfast with us at nine this morning. Thankfully she had a good night's sleep in her hotel.. I had just got up and taken my meds, after a night's sleep with less wakefulness than usual. I woke up refreshed, but the benefit was soon lost due to the impact of the meds. Sara went to town after  we'd eaten, to hunt for a Cardiff souvenir for Ebba. 

Clare and I met her at the Halfway pub on her return and went for a walk, talking about many things non-stop. So many things to share face to face rather than write to each other about. It was cold and dry. We went to Llandaff Cathedral where Sara took a photo of the nave which is now her phone's home screen wallpaper. We had coffee and cake in Jasper's tea room. 

Sara took a moment to check in for tomorrow's KLM flight home to Gothenberg, and was shocked to find it had been cancelled. She was re-routed from Bristol to Schipol, Schipol to Paris and then Paris to Gothenberg. To get to Bristol in time for an early flight means taking a very early 04.25 coach to Bristol, leaving Elgano's at 4.00, thankfully five minutes walk away. What a horror!

I cooked lunch when we got back, then we sat and talked all afternoon and had an early supper. She left us for the hotel at seven to catch as much sleep as possible, to be ready for a home journey as long as a transatlantic flight, starting so early in the day, so we parted company tonight, not midday tomorrow as planned. 

Sara starts a new job on Monday. She had to call her new boss to inform him about her predicament, just in case anything else happens to delay her on the first day of classes after half-term. Then calls with each of her parents and her husband, to tell them what had happened. A lot of Swedish was spoken at home this afternoon!

It was wonderful to spend quality time together after all these years. Sara and I met in Geneva just before Clare and I moved to Monte Carlo 25 years ago, so it's a special anniversary year in a friendship sustained by correspondence. This was her third visit in all that time. I've never visited Sweden and may never do so sadly. 

We talked so much during this reunion filled with insight for me, I didn't realise how tired I was until she'd left and the house descended into quiet. She just messaged me to say good night God bless. I must now finish the day and get to bed.

Sensitivity

Good to see blue sky this morning, despite a population of smaller clouds. More wet weather warnings, but a dry start to the day. Sara slept well in Elgano's hotel and turned up for breakfast at nine. She needed a little navigational help by phone, having walked here in the dark last night. It's the same problem as I had last night finding the access road to the Coach station in the dark. 

Still deeply tired from yesterday with insufficient sleep to recover well, the morning meds made me feel terrible. I went out and walked for an hour to clear my head and met Clare with Sara on their way into town for souvenir shopping. I fell asleep in my armchair for another hour before lunch, then cooked tomatoes and mushrooms to eat with a couple of slices of toast. Sara and Clare returned from town and we spent time chatting and drinking tea. 

We went early to Stefano's for supper. The food was good, but the noise of guests arriving, and table talk against a background of Italian pop ballads made conversation difficult. It wasn't so much being unable to hear, but hearing too much of an assortment of sounds, unable to distinguish and concentrate on listening to soft spoken Sara across the table. There were too many distractions to filter out and process quickly enough to maintain the conversation thread adequately. It's worse with a tired slow acting brain. Dining out is something I don't look forward to these days. We were back home by seven, and Sara returned to her hotel, tired after a stimulating, active day. I spent the rest of the evening reflecting on the day, starting to acknowledge the way the stroke has made me realise just how sensitive I am. It's something I hid from myself behind behaviour learned to cope with overwhelming and painful stimulus. Brain slowdown sabotaged my ability to cope and unmasked the extent of my sensitivity and how I haven't lived with it as well as I could by fully acknowledging it.

The world we inhabit is toxic to sensitive people. It's geared to over stimulation, aimed at retaining attention to promote ideas or products, not allowing enough space to feel free in, and think things through quietly. The struggle is exhausting from the mental effort to make sense of and comply with a plethora of demands and stimuli life throws at them. The problem is that people get stigmatised for being 'different' The culture and environment they inhabit and react to makes them turn in on themselves and disengage or hyper-react defending sensitivity they are socialised to ignore and repress. It's less difficult to look after yourself well, as you learn what kind of person you are, and accept you are not only a child of God, but also a gift and blessing to others, just as you are and were meant to be. That's a lot to take in and sleep on.

No answers

 Up at seven thirty getting ready to walk to an appointment for medical tests at St David's Hospital. I was five minutes late, but worse than that had been given an eight thirty appointment which was incorrectly communicated to me. The nurse was looking for me in the lobby, a familiar face and voice. Catherine the acupuncturist who worked on me a decade ago, whose daughter Clare taught in the Steiner school. Quite a surprise! She steered me through a series of procedures to assess mobility, general fitness, cognition, an electro cardio graph, blood pressure tested standing, sitting and lying down. What with the conversations between tests, my blood pressure as usual was scarily high. I got to see an expert geriatric consultant, to go through the results. The conversation was intense and I was able to vent my frustration at being given medication that makes me feel ill every day, not better. I learned that I needed a blood test while fasting to assess my cholesterol, so I will get an appointment for that. I need to know if the statins I am obliged to take are justified by my actual cholesterol levels. The surgery didn't propose this. 

I will have to wear a blood pressure monitor 24/7 for a week to assess how 'normal' are the spikes and troughs in my blood pressure readings. I did this ten years ago and that delivered no useful information. I just hope newer kit will work more consistently. My night's sleep is broken enough already without the disturbance of being strapped to an uncomfortable machine. Blood tests were taken. No change in medication for now until the data provides an overall picture of my health condition to work from. I was told the clot dispersal meds are a life sentence, despite the havoc they wreak on my intestines, and the leaky wounds that are the result of taking them. Diet and exercise are what's needed to promote health. The impact of the meds deprives me of two to three hours' sleep a night and that is doing me no good whatsoever. No answers that would improve my quality of life. No wonder I still feel angry and resentful. The medics seem unconcerned that sleep loss is impeding my recovery, and affecting my mental health and well being. 

It was after two when I got home. Clare had already eaten after her morning eye appointment, so I cooked a veggie pasta dish for myself, then slept for a couple of hours. While waiting for her afternoon flight Sara and I started exchanging messages,  worried about the transfer to the Cardiff coach. It worked perfectly, and I went to meet her at Sophia Gardens at seven fifteen. The coach station has bad lighting and signage. I know the location well, but it was so dark, that with my visual impairment and fatigue, I had trouble identifying and reaching the arrival area. Sara was off the coach and I had to call her in order to make contact. Once we'd found each other drizzle turned into proper light rain. Then we walked to the Elgano Guest House where she is staying to check in, then home for supper. For her it was an hour later, so she left us by taxi at nine, and will be back for breakfast at nine tomorrow. I'm exhausted after a demanding day both physically and mentally, so tired my typo count is high, like my blood pressure. I need sleep, lots of it.

Kath on the case

Another damp and overcast day, but not much rain. I slept badly, losing sleep rehearsing things I needed to take care of today, but eventually woke up clear headed and sharp to start with. I posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to the Parish WhatsApp prayer thread when I got up for breakfast at eight. 

The toxic impact of the meds was not as pronounced as has been before until I started to tire in the afternoon. i made a start on writing a Reflection for next week when it's Ash Wednesday and completed it late in the day. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. Eleven of us at today's service. I cooked lunch while Clare was out shopping, then went for a walk in the park after eating. I asked Kath's help in contacting TalkTalk to ask for a copy of our final account bill, which I think may need challenging. She certainly succeeded in getting results I despaired of getting. While I was walking in the park at sunset. She tracked the TalkTalk equipment return parcel to its destination from the Post Office receipt. I'd been unable to figure out how to extract this info. 

She obtained screenshot evidence that parcel delivery had been fulfilled. She then set about contacting TalkTalk accounts, logging into their website and using their default direct messaging app to pursue her request for a final account closing bill. The login process using my personal credentials established on their system, rejected my password to hinder the process of gaining access. Exactly the same frustration I had with it that led me to close my user unfriendly TalkTalk account.

Kath did get through and accessed the Direct Messaging app. She was able to download the record of exchanges which I was unable to do. I'm promised a paper bill in a week or so, but am unsure I'll receive a .pdf version as well. I'm promised a phone call from their accounts office about the final account bill.  Kath has found the necessary evidence to support our demand for an explanation of the large direct debit. There's a strong likelihood this call will happen before I have a copy of the bill to scrutinise.

Ashley and I had a long conversation about this affair and he said there were several breaches of consumer legislation in the way this issue has been dealt with by TalkTalk giving grounds for legal action against the company, and these would support a complaint made to OFCOM. Processing all this information, given  how tired I am today, was overwhelming. I need a respite from thinking in order to recover and prepare for whatever comes next.

After supper I watched a couple of undemanding episodes of 'Patience' to relax before bed. All round medical examination first thing in the morning. Stayed up too late again. 

Awful day

Intermittent rain all day. I slept badly, only five hours, troubled by the discovery of the large amount of money direct debited from my bank account by TalkTalk yesterday, having not received a final bill from account closure a month ago. 

BT sent a notification of our incoming first bill. I failed to remember which bank account that direct debit would come out of and went to open the My BT app on my phone to find out. It responded to the pass code I set OK, but I couldn't locate destination bank details. I closed and then re-opened the app to check elsewhere, and the app demanded a password instead of the code. It's a very strong one, and I may have mis-typed it. It took me to a 'captcha' page requiring me to identify bicycles in a grid of images puzzle to prove I'm not a robot. The images weren't sharp enough and far too small to recognise the correct number even with specs on. So I was locked out. Added to this, the daily meds made me so light headed and slow thinking I was struggling to cope verbally when I called the BT help line and explained the problem. 

Identifying myself was a nightmare. I was sent a security code by SMS and email, but neither came through. I had to spend ten minutes giving other i/d details verbally to get recognised. The assistant was able to remind me of the account info I needed. One less thing to worry about. The security code email arrived an hour after the call ended. Network latency generating panic. It's easy to see how cyber attacks cause panic and confusion. Digital technology has made us a cruel rod for our backs.

It turned out that I needed to visit a BT/EE shop in town to get help to sort out the problem. This gave me two reasons to go into town pronto. It wasn't easy navigating the streets, dragging my feet, prematurely tired. After a late panic stricken breakfast I went on the bus . First to HSBC to cancel the TalkTalk direct debit, where an advisor gave me phone numbers to call TalkTalk and demand a copy of the final bill and an explanation for the exorbitant sum. Not a task I look forward to. Next to BT/EE where a demure young lady about Jasmine's age did the phone trouble shooting with me to reinstate pass code access.

Drizzle turned into heavy rain on the way home. My rain jacket got soaked while walking from the bus to home. Clare had been out at a study group, but returned before me and cooked pasta for lunch, before going out to meditation group. I slept for an hour, then walked in the rain until sunset, which cleared my head of the worst effects of the medication. Two jackets to dry out overnight. 

I spent the evening after supper making tomorrow's Morning Prayer video slideshow, later than usual as I was recording a chapter of the Lent Book last Tuesday. It disrupted my routine and I didn't get around to finishing the job. It meant going to bed late with my brain taking ages to slow down. I find that working late doesn't do me any good nowadays

Sharp practice

Yet another overcast, damp and drizzly day. In the news Aberdeen was reported as being covered by cloud continuously for three weeks. Wind from the west has given Wales occasional clear sky days in that time. I wish the medication clouding my brain each day at the moment would go away. It starts within an hour of taking morning meds at nine and doesn't clear until tea time, if not later.

There was a bank statement in the morning's post with a deduction of £171 taken by TalkTalk. I've had no final account statement paper document , nor digital notification email to enable me to question this final figure. I had expected a final bill for the second half of December and up to 9th January when the account closed, line rental amounting to £40 - £50. I have proof I returned TalkTalk's equipment in December. This really upset me. 

Kath sent me a link to BBC's 'You and Yours' consumer programme to tell the story to their Watchdog team. It took me three hours to write a detailed account in an email and copies of supporting evidence. I received an acknowledgement, but there's no guarantee the Watchdog team will investigate. 

Many of my written exchanges with TalkTalk over the past five months were by Direct Message. I was unsuccessful in copying or downloading any of these as a record of the process, I couldn't find a means to do so. There is a separate trail of SMS messages relating to several complaints I've made which TalkTalk alleges were resolved. These are linked to some kind of on-line dispute resolution service for which I have neither had time or patience to follow up, or contest. Life is too short for that, especially when you're unwell. Making the procedure opaque is a sure way to deter clients from pursuing any further. 

If anyone is unable to make a copy of messages coming from the TalkTalk Direct Messaging server to support contention over the 'resolved' complaint, it becomes too daunting to pursue.  The same applies when money is taken from your account before receiving and agreeing an itemised final bill. I have proof of postage for my return of TalkTalk equipment. There's no reason why I should be charged for non-return if it got lost in transit or at the recycling warehouse. No reason for not mailing me a paper copy of the final account. In cancelling my TalkTalk service back in December I was informed I'd lose my TalkTalk email address which I hardly ever used. There would be no reason to email a final bill to that address, unless to make the final reckoning more opaque. They already have a record of my Gmail account for security purposes. This issue is either a matter of monumental administrative incompetence or malpractice. I'm hoping the 'You and Yours' team will look into this. This would support a complaint to OFCOM or make one on my behalf. We'll see.

It was gone four by the time I went out for a walk. I certainly needed fresh air and exercise after sending this story to 'You and Yours'. It started to rain, and gusts of wind as it was getting dark made an effort to break my brolly detaching the handle section from the rest. Not a pleasant evening. A troubling day feeling out of control of this faceless situation and angry with its impositions. I hope I can sleep tonight.

Imagining creation

Cloudy again but no rain until sunset. We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, which included an infant baptism. There were about sixty of us present, including children. Today in the church's lectionary is Creation Sunday when Genesis chapter one is read. It's a wonderful poetic ritualistic account of the Word at work, commanding order to emerge out of primeval chaos represented by water. First a cosmic bubble is made, as the setting in which the rest of God's creative activity unfolds. I started pondering on what experience prompted this metaphor. Did rhia come from having one's head under water with eyes open? 

Then what about the passage on the third day of creation where God declares 'Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let dry land appear.' Watching a rock emerge from the sea as the tide goes out might prompt this metaphor, but the poet would more likely have been observing water level changes as a flood subsides in the river Euphrates, revealing banks of silt built up by the current, and then their development into small islands colonised by sprouting vegetation that stabilises them. 

Progression from simple chaos to complex life and ecosystems is described by the poet, interpreted as ordered by the divine Word. It's not speculation but observation of the real world in the language of ancient poetry. It's not allegory. Architecture and managing construction isn't mentioned as part of the divine identity. Only God's voice is mentioned. This poet doesn't anthropomorphise the author of the material world. 'In the beginning was the Word ...' as St John summarises creation, some time later in biblical history.

The morning meds had a bad effect on me, feeling light headed and slightly faint again despite drinking extra water to counteract the impact. It could be that I'm peeing out slightly more than I drink, slowly dehydrating without realising. need even more water to maintain the right balance. My stomach feels full when I've drunk what I believe is enough fluid. It's making my life a misery.

We went for a walk after lunch, down to Blackweir Bridge, then crossing over the Taff and walking the muddy path through Bute Park woods down to and over the Millennium Bridge and calling in to the Pedal Power cafe for an excellent cup of coffee on the way back. It was open later than the usual winter opening time as cyclists were gathering for a lantern walk/ride at dusk. Several two seat tricycles were decked out with large decorative lanterns, carnival style. One of them carried a paper lantern in the image of a large white swan. The procession goes round the park and some streets in the vicinity including people with disabilities, carers and cycling activists. A lovely community based initiative. 

By the time we got home at six we'd both walked 10 kilometres today. It was only towards the end of our walk that my head cleared and my legs unstiffened. I look forward to this Wednesday's 'medical MOT' to discuss with someone knowledgeable about this. After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Patience' before heading for bed.

Privacy misused - a cloak for wrongdoing

Another damp and cloudy day. I slept fairly well, and the meds didn't have such a toxic light headed effect on me. Instead of pancakes for breakfast, Clare cooked drop scones. Although there's an egg in the recipe, they didn't disagree with my digestion, apart from a slight aftertaste  A pleasant change. 

Once more the morning news was dominated by reports of the fallout from publication of documents exposing the reach of corrupt financier Geoffrey Epstein's discreet sex crime network. Revelations about the private lives of wealthy high status people including financiers, politicians, diplomats and royalty, has brought public disgrace upon them. 

The often controversial reputation of Peter Mandelson, appointed as US ambassador and later sacked, is an embarrassment for the prime minister, calling into question his sense of judgement. Mandelson has quit the Labour Party and resigned from the House of Lords. He is now being investigated for misconduct in public office, after the disclosure that he leaked market sensitive information to benefit Epstein during the 2008 financial crisis. It's being described as a betrayal of his country. 

So much political life and the process of government happens behind the scenes in private or in secrecy to avoid misleading the public, or to hinder the distortion of information to raise fear uncertainty and doubt. Everyone has a right to privacy to protect their reputation and social standing, but it can be misused, serve a screen to conceal wrong doing. The lust for wealth, status and power can easily tempt individuals to act only in their own interests and lead to immoral decisions and actions, if there's little prospect of exposure and being called to account. When it comes to exclusive networks of rich influential people, corruption can spread far and wide without being challenged. 

In these secularised times, worship of our Creator and accountability to One who is above and beyond all that exists has been supplanted by worship of self centred ego, accountable to nobody other than those we choose to acknowledge, whom we know or are known by. A sense of right and wrong, of what is just and wicked gets perverted by unhealthy appetites and impulses, constructing an illusory sense of self, preserved by avoiding the scrutiny of moral judgement, by secretly getting away with behaviour few if any regard as beneficial. 

The biblical story of Adam's Fall is understood to describe rebellion against God's will in the name of freedom and knowledge, as the primary cause of human suffering. Human beings learn from experience to discern the difference between what is just and good, or what is unjust and wicked. We have a choice to take between the life giving path to divine blessing and mortal chaos. When Adam and Eve realise they are naked, they feel ashamed of themselves. No hiding place for them from their rebellious naughtiness. No secrets, only unwelcome consequences.

We had salmon soup for lunch, as we do when we receive our periodic fish delivery order from Ashton's. Clare fell soundly asleep in her armchair when we'd eaten, so I went out for a walk. When she woke up and saw I'd gone out, she sent me a message asking where I was and saying she'd taken the bus into town to exchange a coat she purchased yesterday. I was meant to go with her and assumed that she was too tired to go. Crossed wires unfortunately.

I cooked chestnut mushrooms on toast for supper, with a fried egg for Clare and bacon for me. Real comfort food for miserable damp weather. Another episode of 'Patience' to watch after supper, a story that first appeared in the 'Astrid - Murder in Paris' series. I'd be interested to re-watch the French version for comparison, but sleep is more appealing.

Lactose legacy

Higher cloud cover today. It's not so dull, but damp nevertheless with fine drizzle. I took soya milk kefir yoghourt with porridge oats for breakfast. The difference it made from yesterday when I had a dairy milk kefir version was noticeable. Although I was light headed and not that clear headed or sharp, my head felt  less like a headache was imminent. In addition to the effect of the meds, there's no gall bladder to process milk fats and side effects are noticeable.

After breakfast I set about making a video streaming file to enclose the Lent Book audio made last night, and posted it to WhatsApp. On checking the audio I found several minutes' worth which needed further editing. I also missed a titling error in the audio - 'retrieving Jesus' instead of 'receiving Jesus'.  I had to take down the WhatsApp posting, re-edit and upload the video to YouTube and post it again.

It's a result of being poorly and tired when I was working on the project last night, and my concentration failing. I wasn't successful in making all the changes. The tiredness in my voice was noticeable, stumbling over words, needing to repeat sentences. Not my best effort. A project I felt confident I could do turned out to be more difficult than anticipated. I bit off more than I could chew. There's only so much I can manage after losing sleep. Part of recovery has to be pushing back boundaries to learn my limits of capability. I'm not sure I understand where my limits lie. I'm so used to pushing myself hard when I no longer need to, driven by the need to make myself useful. As if that mattered as  much to other people as it does to me!

I cured the 'File error - disk full' glitch on my Dell laptop, by running its disk cleanup app. I was surprised how long it took. Successive Windows updates leave a trail of redundant temporary files, amounting to gigabytes of space being consumed uselessly.

After supper Clare wanted to watch the film 'Bohemian Rhapsody' live on Film 4, but the lack of a digital aerial for the new TV prevented this. We can only watch streamed content at the moment. So annoying that digital signal reception is so poor where we live. We need a suitable rooftop antenna or a freeview digibox. She watched the film live on the Chromebook, and I watched this week's streamed episode of Astrid on my Windows laptop. 

Miserable

Overcast with occasional showers during the day. but heavy rain after dark. I ate a hot cross bun and had some kefir with porridge oats for breakfast. A lingering sour taste on my tongue plus hours of dyspepsia told me that both were overloaded with cow's milk fats. Without a gall bladder they don't assimilate and upset my stomach. In addition the usual meds left me with 'toxic head' right through the day. I walked in the park morning and afternoon but fresh air failed to clear my head. I wonder if extra unassimilated lactose has added to miserable side effects I react badly to?

I had a phone call from someone organising medical checks for stroke victims, offering an appointment at St David's Hospital for what was described as a 'medical MOT'. This may be something requested by the GP surgery or by the consultant I contacted recently. Hopefully it will result in a proper assessment of the impact on me of the meds that are making me poorly. The downside is that it's an 8.30am appointment.

Tonight I wanted to complete the task of editing together the sections I have recorded of the Lent Book 'Retrieving Jesus' to circulate before the Lent group study of the book begins, but was frustrated by losing half the job already done to a Windows 11 file system crash which corrupted the Audacity file I worked on yesterday. I had to identify each sound byte and reconstruct the introduction sequence, bible quote and text of Chapter One rather than re-record fifty minutes worth of the book. It was far more difficult than I realised, with so many calls on short term memory, and took a couple of hours of muddling through, which made me late for bed, extra tired and frustrated and feeling poorly

The mystery of the miraculous

Blue sky, light cloud and sunshine this morning, a little warmer and no rain. A more cheering start to the day. I posted the YouTube link for Morning Prayer to WhatsApp, then got up, starting to feel light headed as usual after taking the meds.

After breakfast, an interesting programme on Radio Four from writer Matthew Syed in his 'Sideways' series, in which he explores ideas that shape our thinking from a different angle. It was about miracles. He spoke about his evangelical Christian upbringing and the offer of prayer for healing. In his experience of church life this was accompanied by miracles from time to time. He's now a non-believer. He responds to the question of whether miracles are ever compatible with scientific thinking by introducing neuroscientist Joshua Brown who was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour aged thirty, and able to examine with expert eyes evidence from his own brain scans. He made a journey to a series of churches to investigate if the ministry of healing prayer would make any difference to his condition, and if so how. In a way he was unable to explain with his medical expertise, the symptoms disappeared, the tumor stopped growing and then shrank. It was the cure he hoped for but couldn't account for. Prayer was the only thing that made a difference to him, first of all in his sense of well being and trust in the process under way, leaving him with a sense of wonder and gratitude.

Then Syed spoke about the Vatican's medical commission investigating claims of healing thanks to the intercession of saints, one of the evidence criteria in establishing a person's sanctity. The prayer of both living and dead persons is associated with cures without known scientific explanation - miracles in other words. As Pentecostalist theologian Professor Hollenweger used to say in lectures about the miraculous: "All healing comes from God. There is no healing that is not from God. The devil cannot heal, only shift symptoms." 

A healing miracle of any kind is an occurrence that opens our eyes in awe and wonder to the mystery of life and the nature of reality. Whether or not we can describe what happens, or can analyse in detail how it happens, whether or not the timing of a miraculous occurrence is deliberate or random, its timing may be the only thing ultimately beyond explanation, the essence of a divine gift from the One above and beyond all, to whom all time and eternity belongs. When the miraculous confronts us with the mysterious nature of reality. In this way we are challenged to wonder why it happens and why we are its witnesses.

We were seven at the St Catherine's Eucharist. Ann gave me a lift home after coffee. The phone reminded me half an hour too early of a lunchtime acupuncture appointment. Not enough time to eat lunch, so I grabbed a calorific snack, walked to Parkwood clinic and arrived half an hour early. I had a good session with Peter Butcher, and noticed the light headed sensation dispersed after the treatment. I returned home and ate a meal Clare kept warm for me, then recorded and edited next Wednesday's Morning Prayer audio. I went out and walked up and down Llandaff Fields before shopping for food at the Coop, and returned just after sunset. I had enough energy today to walk a full ten kilometres. It's the first time I've walked that far in a month and only the second time this year. I wrote a reflection about Titus and Paul after supper. No wonder I feel tired tonight. 

Error corrected, just in time

A grey drizzly day. It was after midnight when I got to sleep last night. It took me extra time to wind down after recording and editing late in the evening. When I prepared to say Morning Prayer I realised that I'd mistaken the date when preparing this week's prayer video due tomorrow not today. I need to re-record the correct Office before tomorrow, at least the variable sections, and edit them together with the other parts. 

My morning meds had a more pronounced effect than usual. I was sleepy and light headed until I walked in the park for three quarters of an hour. Clare's study group members arrived for their session and I spent the rest of the morning recording the correct Office for Wednesday. A slow process, juggling with half a dozen small audio files and replacing them in the sound track. Surprisingly by the time I had half finished the chore I was alert and clear headed. 

Meanwhile, Clare cooked penne with a veggie sugo for lunch. I walked in the drizzle again for another hour afterwards, and then worked on the audio edit. After supper I revised the video slide show which I made last week. It was trickier than expected, as cloud based file components were slow updating and displaying. Eventually, I uploaded the video to YouTube relieved to have noticed my mistake early enough to rectify rather than having to apologise for the omission. That's enough for today. Time for early bed.

Recording

Overcast with occasional showers this morning. I slept well and didn't wake up until nine. A reminder from Ovo Energy prompted me to renew our household energy tariff for the coming supply contract year. I understand that wholesale energy prices fluctuate, affecting our bills, there's a lot of information to check out. It's quite well presented on the website, though there's an element of ambiguity referring to accepting  the new tariff offer as a 'switch' when it's described as a  'Loyalty' tariff, which in my thinking means no change at all.

I was pleased to have an email from Dr Hughes' secretary acknowledging my message to him. It may be a while before I get to see him, but at least I can be sure of an appointment with him some time soon. 

I went out for a mid morning walk as it helps to dissipate the effect of the meds and my head stays clearer for longer if I do. I cooked lunch while Clare went to town to buy a replacement printer cartridge. Sausages with mushooms abd onion, plus veggies. 

I recorded the first chapter of 'Retrieving Jesus'. It took over an hour. The chapters are dense, lengthy with quotes and anecdotes. Will the finished product serve as an introduction to discussion on the theme of conversion? The text can be read in half the time with space in between to digest the narrative. Will anyone listen in the absence of or preference toca book in hand? Have I bitten off more than I can chew? 

I walked for nearly an hour at sunset. Then after supper continued work on editing the recorded audio. It took me three hours to reduce the file to less than an hour while Clare was out at choir. I hope I haven't overdone it. 

Quiet healing

Rain in the night, lighter showers this morning. I woke up early, and despite not sleeping long enough, felt fairly clear headed, and listened to 'Sunday Worship' on Radio Four before getting up. It was a recorded service of Morning Prayer for Candlemass from St Giles' Parish Church in Wrexham, with Froncysyllte male voice choir contributing several items. It certainly wasn't Choral Matins as we know it, but the parts recited together were clear and coherent. The homily was about the nature of waiting. 

I was slow sorting myself out after breakfast, as I had a shower and washed my hair.  I was annoyed with myself for failing to put my fitbit back on when I got dressed afterwards. It means having to guesstimate when I've had enough exercise for the day. Clare left for church before me, and was waiting for the service to start, and for me to arrive when I caught her up in St Catherine's. On time, just! The brisk walk was refreshing and helped clear away the side effects of the meds.

We were about forty adults and kids. Ordinand Jeremy preached about waiting, starting from an anecdote about the loyalty of pet dogs waiting for their deceased masters to return. Fr Sion apologised for the lack of Lent books ordered for an ecumenical study session,  but not yet supplied. 

The idea crossed my mind, of recording a chapter each week for circulation to people signed up to order the book for the course, as and when it arrives. This would give them an opportunity to prepare the session in advance. I mentioned it to Sion who agreed it would be a useful thing to do. Fortunately Fr Andrew has a copy of the book in question, and agreed to lend it to me, so I can get busy and record a reading of the first session in good time.

After lunch I went to bed and slept for a refreshing hour instead of sleeping in my armchair. Then I went for a walk as far as Sophia Gardens and back along the Taff to Llandaff Fields. The sound of a Song Thrush duetting or competing for attention with a Great Tit was enchanting, I called in to the Padel courts 'Square + Fair' cafe through the side entrance to use a toilet. While I was in a cubicle the external shutters descended noisily without me realising. It was a surreal dreamlike experience. When I came out of the toilet I found myself in a strange darkened corridor with metal walls, and wondered where I was, but didn't panic. I went along the corridor to where light was shining through a glass door. Mercifully it was open, and I entered the cafe, just about to close at sunset. 

I was reminded of the sensation of disorientation I experienced after the stroke, unable to identify where I was in surroundings familiar but unrecognisable. I felt so good about coping without bewilderment that I laughed out loud telling the barista what happened. My brain was reacting at almost normal speed to an unexpected change and I didn't panic! A healing dimension of my stroke recovery seems to be revealing itself quietly - a gift to thank God for indeed.

Before supper Fr Andrew dropped off the promised Lent book: Retrieving Jesus - the way of love, by Bishop Marianne Edgar Budde. Time to set up a laptop with my digital microphone and find out how easy it will be to configure the kit for making a good clear voice recording. This took the rest of the evening until it was time for bed. 

Found before I knew it was lost

When I woke up and looked out of the bedroom window as the sun was emerging behind the rooftops there were strips of orange cloud running east to west along the horizon in an otherwise clear sky. Shepherd's warning. By nine it was raining, overcast under cloud not as low as usual. I took my meds and was relieved that the toxic head reaction was less pronounced that it usually is. Heaven knows why. Maybe drinking a pint of water to start the day is making a difference. If so, why isn't this mentioned in the medication prescription?

Clare cooked pancakes for breakfast while I was getting up but after eating, I fell asleep in my armchair and slept for another hour. Meanwhile, the sky cleared and the sun shone, so I went out for some fresh air and walked for nearly an hour, feeling light headed and slightly unsteady. Clare was eating the lunch she'd cooked when I got back. I hadn't intended to be out for so long. Maybe I was walking slower than usual to cause me to be late. 

Helen, a lady who lives on Llanfair Road whose husband Dave, a regular walker in Llandaff Fields, about the same age as me, tapped on the door and handed me my National Express coach card. She noticed the card, lodged in the frame of the Penhill Road bus shelter, recognised my name and tracked me down. Such a surprise! I hadn't noticed that I'd lost it. The last time I was at the bus shelter was when I caught the bus into town with Clare yesterday. I remember putting my wallet with the TFW free bus pass on the scanner and it responding with an error message, so I had to repeat the scan. This was unexpected and I reopened my wallet to be sure it scanned correctly a second time. 

This must have been the moment when it fell out of the adjacent wallet compartment, as my attention was distracted, though I was half aware of something falling out of the corner of my impaired eye, just not enough to look on the floor below. I don't know who picked it up and lodged it in the bus shelter window frame, only that a neighbour was returning it to me. I might never have discovered how I lost it if she hadn't looked at it and known me. When I examined the wallet, the mouth of the slot where it lives appears to be wider than other slots. Wear and tear I suppose.

A delicious veggie pasta lunch cooked by Clare. I ate so much spinach green tagliatelli, a favourite of mine, that I had no room for the apple pie she baked. With a full stomach I slept for another hour, not because I was tired but because the meds induce drowsiness. When I went shopping afterwards, the light headed and drowsy sensation accompanied me. It was as if I was sleepwalking. I was glad to reach home before sunset, now at five o'clock, and drink a mug of coffee in an effort to wake myself up.

A new episode of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' appeared overnight for streaming and I watched it as the toxic effect of the meds wore off. The stories are often quite complex, but today's episode was special, when a murder investigation reveals that the victim was assassinated, with French intelligence service and the CIA secretly competing rather than co-operating to cover up a diplomatic scandal. Rafaële and Astrid find themselves 'recruited into games spies play. The plot is complex, but comedic, laugh out loud crime drama, with deep threads of sadness running through the secondary storyline. It's brilliant, unusual and in my opinion, award winning entertainment.

By way of comparison I watched an episode of 'Patience' this evening, the anglicised retelling of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' starring Ella Maisie Purvis as an autistic archivist who is in real life autistic. She's a fine actor portraying the archivist as shy hesitant, intuitive, less remote than Astrid whose IQ is very high, her memory encyclopaedic and logical reasoning clinically precise. While the stories have a measure of charm and sentiment about them, they aren't humorous or whimsical, a tad earnest, to my mind.

By bed time the worst effects of the medication wore off, in time for an early night and hopefully better sleep.

 Neurodiverse for sure, but with a different set of neurodivergent conditions

Noteworthy improvement

I went to bed at eleven and fell asleep quickly as I was tired and relaxed, but woke up just after midnight with the thought I had not taken the statin to sleep on, as recommended by the GP. I couldn't work out from looking at the content of the 'blister' pack whether I had or not. Days of the week aren't marked on it as they are with many meds on sale. I have to mark them on each aluminium foil 'blister' as a precaution against forgetting to take one. The trouble is, ink from most pens will not deposit on the foil surface,  but it will leave a visible impression, some clearer than others. On this occasion the mark wasn't clear enough to decipher, and I couldn't be sure my memory wasn't playing tricks on me. I could have woken up from a dream about taking night time medication. I gave up inspecting the pack and went back to sleep, and took the statin when I got up instead after five and a half hours' poor sleep. A miserable start to the day, light headed, ill coordinated, slow thinking. 

We took the bus to town after breakfast to buy Clare a new winter coat. First to John Lewis, then M&S, and several other clothes stores. Somehow despite the 'toxic head' I coped with crowds of shoppers and painfully bland incessant upbeat background muzak, processed by sound editing tweaks until it doesn't sound natural but artificial, composed by AI even if it wasn't. 

Five months ago I'd have been overwhelmed by the stimulus of sound, movement and bright light, driven to  flee from the shopping mall in a state near panic. My peripheral vision impairment seems to be reduced as well. What I see is no longer like looking ahead wen entering a tunnel. It too is a notable improvement.

After two hours traipsing around the shops, lunchtime approached. I was worried that I'd start to feel faint as well as light headed, as hunger too over and my blood sugar dropped, so we hunted for a fast food fix, A couple of Greggs sausage rolls for me and a slice of pizza for Clare. We ate, sitting on a stone bench by the City Library on The Hayes, surrounded by pigeons ready to snatch from our hands any food they could reach. Not the most aesthetic of picnicking experiences on damp grey day. We decided to make up for this by dining out nearer home later in the evening. Unable to find any coat Clare wanted to buy, we decided to go home, and try again another day after a preliminary on-line search.

Having not received a response to my letter delivered a week ago to the surgery asking for a referral to the Tom Davies the consultant I saw in December I decided to email directly his appointments secretary with my request for a referral, giving as a reason for doing so, his advice when I last saw him of making a note of the impact for different medications to establish which one was causing me problems, This was my way of reporting back and requesting a second opinion about the appropriateness of taking statins which impair my quality of life, and doing so while my brain function in many ways is improving. We'll see if this gets a response.

At six we walked to Emmanuela's Italian restaurant in Pontcanna Street for supper early. Seafood risotto for Clare and spaghetti bolognese for me. On returning home we listened on BBC Sounds to yesterday's and tonight's missed episodes of 'The Archers'. Perhaps because of tiredness tonight, when I came to write this, my mind was blank and I need to ask Clare what we did this morning. Once she said "Shopping" my memory recall sprang back to life and I spent the rest of the evening writing this blog, before bed. Tonight I have extra reasons to thank God for noteworthy improvements in my condition. I look forward to there being a matching improvement in my medication regime.

Competing crimmies

Cold and cloudy today. It felt a lot colder than the 7C actual temperature. I had an adequate night's sleep. After taking my meds and having breakfast I felt light headed - not quite dizzy or faint, but a bit unsteady on my feet. After saying Morning Prayer sitting in my armchair I slept for another hour and a half, though I'd intended to go out for a walk before doing anything else. I was going to to cook lunch, but by the time I woke up Clare was already cooking fettucini with a smoked fish sugo. It was delicious. 

After lunch I went for a walk in Pontcanna Fields and along the Taff trail. It was bitterly cold in the wind. I went home, swapped my rain jacket for a padded one, then went out again and walked another half hour to complete my daily step quota. By this time the 'toxic head' and limb stiffness feelings of a negative reaction to statins had worn off. I'm still waiting for a response from the surgery to the letter I delivered a week ago asking for a referral to the cardio consultant I saw before Christmas. I think it's time I wrote to him directly.

Having made the Morning Prayer video slideshow for next Wednesday and uploaded it to YouTube after supper, I looked for something to watch on 'Walter Presents' and discovered that the fifth series of Astrid - Murders in Paris episode one is running this week. 'Patience' series two is running at the same time. Weird competitive programming. I wonder why? Bed time already.

Recovery gratitude

A night of disturbed sleep, bladder irritated more than usual due to the meds. I wonder if it's a by product of the blood clot dispersal process? The kidneys filter from the blood substances that don't belong. Maybe the bladder is letting me know they're working. I've also been drinking more water to help the gut absorb the meds I've taken, with inevitable consequences.

I got up while 'Thought for the Day' was being broadcast and busied myself with getting ready to leave the house after breakfast to ensure I arrived at St Catherine's early to celebrate the Eucharist for the first time since the stroke. When I woke up in the night I didn't feel anxious about returning to the altar to take the service. My night time thoughts were of gratitude for being able to celebrate and give God thanks for the ministry of the congregation to me in the eighteen weeks since that moment the stroke occurred during Mass on Holy Cross Day. 

My head was clear when I woke up, though I didn't escape the mild ache and light-headed sensation that usually follows taking medication. It's a matter of slowly making the effort to keep going. I just wanted to give thanks for being held in the care, kindness and prayer of the worshipping community and its pastors. And what better way to do this than by presiding at the Eucharist. It was ike getting back on a bike or joining in a circle dance you know. The body remembers the moves and you're carried forward by the liturgy despite strange sensations which suggest an out-of-the-body experience. In reality, it's the opposite - an experience of being in the body of worshippers, the Body of Christ. 

Only four of us regulars were together. Clive, Paul, Sheila and me. I had prepared a homily to read to avoid going off piste, but didn't think to prepare intercessions, which I usually pray ad extempore. Though I remembered all the topics it's customary to pray for, when it came to praying for the Archbishop of Canterbury taking the Oath of Allegiance before the King in St Paul's Cathedral this morning, I couldn't recall her name. 

I wasn't aware of making any mistakes in conducting the service, and invoked the Trinity at the beginning and the final blessing in Welsh as other clergy do in the Parish team. Five months without standing at the altar in prayer could have triggered an emotional reaction, but it didn't. Neither joy nor relief, nor sadness at loss of commitment to a regular role in the prayer life of the Parish. But come to think of it, I'm still contributing Morning Prayer to the Parish WhatsApp thread weekly, as I did first thing today. Celebrating my return to the other side of the altar at this stage in my stroke recovery is nothing more than what it should be - meet, right, a bounden duty to give God thanks and praise.

I was bending over to clear up a mess I made after supper and a nosebleed started, which scared me, given the catastrophic outcome of the one I had due to clot dispersal meds after the stroke. Fortunately the leak was small and didn't last long, perhaps because my blood pressure is not as persistently high as it was back then. It shows how careful I must continue to be when bending down or putting myself under pressure with long spells of head work, writing or editing. It's an ominous reminder of how vulnerable I am now. 

Rather than making the slideshow for next week's prayer video this evening, I went back to reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's novel El Amor en los Tiempos de Colera for the first time since my stroke. It's a relief to find that I've retained much of the Spanish I learned, and can read and still make sense of the text. I was using Google's dictionary app for words I didn't know back then. Some are from Latin American vocabulary as opposed to Castilian Spanish. I certainly have memory lapses, but if I take time to recall the words, especially names do return eventually. Sometimes it takes weeks. Yesterday I was wondering if one of my Swiss chaplaincy in Lausanne colleagues was still alive. Palestinian American, a decorated Vietnam War military chaplain. I couldn't get beyond his first name Samir last night, but his surname popped into my mind this morning. Samir Habiby is still alive, aged ninety. He told me once that he rescued an injured colleague, was awarded a Purple Heart, and charged with disobeying orders to hunker down during a firefight. What a larger than life character! We last met in Jerusalem when I was on terminal leave from Geneva in 2000, just after his retirement. It's strange being able to remember so much about him, and then taking half a day to remember his name.

Celebrating the Eucharist this morning was a significant occasion in stroke recovery. Not because I didn't make a mess of it, or needed help to get through after falling apart emotionally, but fulfilment in offering the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving for God's healing grace and the fellowship of the Body of Christ in sustaining me and teaching me during this critical period of my life.

Remembering the Holocaust

Strong wind parted the cloud cover this morning, fallout from fierce storms and colossal rains coming in from the north and west bringing chaos and floods in many places. Eight hours in bed, three hours awake. I felt clear headed from relaxed deep breathing but after taking my meds I began to feel poorly, despite having eaten a banana with a cup of water. It occurred to me that I might not be drinking enough to fend off gradual dehydration during the night. 

I made the effort to drink another liter of water, and this showed me what I haven't been doing enough of recently. My head cleared, and my walk after breakfast was much more energetic than it has been of late. Given the concoction of meds I take, I now realise that I need to make the effort to drink a more to ensure the drugs are digested properly and assimilated into my bloodstream. A lesson learned. But can I change a habit that's not been doing me any good? It's not easy. My esophagus often seems slow to wake up and relax in the morning to work as God intends. I get coughing fits or muscular spasms if it's not ready for action on waking.

Today is Holocaust Memorial Day on the anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz extermination camp. Altogether six million Jewish, Roma  and other minority sub-culture people were murdered in World War two because of who they were seen to be in nazi eyes.  The 'us first' master race ideology treated others as inferior, to be subjugated, enslaved, discarded as disposable assets, a threat to world dominance. Never forget, tell this story. We need to learn from history. Liars, lies and deception can easily fool us There are times when pride, patriotic sentiment and anxiety can divert us from noticing when loyalty to high ideals is being poisoned by ill-will. Be sober, be vigilant today declares. This evil mindset, in blatant or subtle guise must never be allowed to pervert humankind again anywhere.

Chief Rabbi Murvis spoke well on 'Thought for the Day' as I was waking up. As holocaust victims and witnesses speaking from personal experience come to the end of their lives, their educational work with rising generations is entrusted to others. Murvis points out that the Hebrew word for 'remember' is more than subjective recollection, it's a call to action, a call to responsibility for passing on the story. How often the Psalmist exhorts people to remember what God has done and remind others. It fits so well with the Lord's words of blessing bread and wine at the Last Supper - 'Do this in remembrance of me.'

Clare cooked prawns with rice and veg for lunch, and then went out to meditation group. I thought I would snooze in my armchair after the meal, but I found myself reflecting on the Chief Rabbi's words instead. I walked another circuit of Llandaff Fields, and got home before sunset. Already it's light an hour earlier. When the sky isn't overcast with low cloud, the difference is noticeable, an hour later than winter solstice.

After supper I recorded and edited next Wednesday's Morning Prayer. I'm celebrating the Eucharist at St Catherine's tomorrow morning, for the first time since my stroke, so it's early to be for me tonight after a somewhat better day.

Gaza - the reckoning so far.

Getting to bed earlier gave me a better night's sleep. I did some chigung and breathing exercise to be sure my head was clear when I got up. The benefit of this was neutralised once the meds began to work. Even after walking for an hour before lunch the same old 'toxic head' sensation returned and stayed with me into the afternoon. I'm not happy about this. I have made it clear to the GPs that this medication regime leaves me feeling unwell. What do I have to do to get heard? Go and camp out in A&E?

I cooked lentils with mushrooms with the usual veg for lunch, and walked down to Blackweir Bridge after we'd eaten. When I went to take a photo I discovered that I'd forgotten to charge my camera battery. Rain  started on the way home. At last my head began to clear, allowing me to make this week's Morning Prayer slideshow and upload it to YouTube.

Clare went out early to choir practice, leaving me to eat on my own listening to the news. The body of the last victim of the October 7th Hamas attack has finally been recovered.  Over 70,000 have been killed, 20,000 of them children, a hundred of them during the ceasefire, Nearly 130,00 people have been injured.  Ninety percent of the population of Gaza are homeless, living in temporary shelters. Palestinians in Gaza have paid a terrible price for electing Hamas to govern. It's no wonder that Netanyahu's regime is accused of genocide as well as war crimes. It's far from over. The future is as uncertain as ever.

The Gaza - Egypt border crossing at Rafah will be opened on a limited basis to allow movement of people under the terms of the ceasefire agreement. Hamas will play no part in determining the future of Gaza. The next stage is the disarmament of Hamas. A politically independent Palestinian 'technocrat' government of fifteen appointed by President Mahmoud Abbas is charged with delivering essential services and managing post-war reconstruction, overseen by Trump's Board of Peace. The aim is the stabilisation of the Gaza, but how governable will Gaza be when recriminations fester between pro and anti Hamas factions? Will this hinder reconstruction plans?

After supper, I worked on a preparing biblical reflection for the week after next while my mind was active active, pondering on a Passiontide Gospel in which the crucified Jesus is mocked by passers-by. It was stimulating and fruitful. Good to go to bed feeling I'd achieved something after a day which for the most part was spoiled by feeling poorly.

Anoxia?

No wind or rain today. High cloud with sun breaking through thankfully. 

I slept fairly well, and woke up with a clear head. After taking my daily meds, the 'toxic head' sensation returned. Feeling sleepy and slightly faint resembles the sensation of not getting enough oxygen. It's how I feel in a poorly ventilated room. I remember this from when I was a child living in a house with open coal fires on winter evenings. A memory that's taken a while to surface. I'm not breathless, but my pulse rate is low. It happens when the meds I take start to affect me. I was a bit slow getting ready to walk to church, and walked briskly to avoid being late. I didn't arrive breathless, but feeling clear headed and sharp after a ten minute walk. I realise now how important early exercise and a breath of fresh air is to feeling well.

We were about forty adults and a dozen children at the St Catherine's Eucharist. Sunday Club children usually join the adults at communion time. This morning they over-ran and didn't appear, so we had to wait quietly for them to arrive for a blessing or communion. They came in together, skipping, chattering, playing, a delightful sight, the faithful don't normally see when they're making their way to and from the communion rail for the sacrament.

I slept for an hour after lunch, then walked for an hour until sunset. Clare had a lie-in this morning and went to the afternoon Welsh language Eucharist at St Catherine's. We chatted with Rachel in the evening. She intends to sell up and return from Phoenix to Cardiff isn't working out as she hoped it would so far. It's so frustrating for her to move on. Jasmine is independent now and has moved out to attend university. She'd like to return and settle in Europe, so there's every reason for Rachel to be here as well, but for Rachel as a penniless musician it's a matter of starting from scratch back home.  We'd love to see her back here and will support her in any way we can, but it's a hard decision to put into effect in her fifties. I played guitar and she sang while we were on-line. Pity the audio synchronisation is laggy.

Medical intoxication

A fair night's sleep, but when I woke up and took my meds I began to feel poorly again. A good Saturday pancake breakfast didn't improve the way I felt. This time, I'm tired with a headache. I feel like I have a hangover. It's rare for me to have a headache unless I have an infection. I don't have a temperature or inflammation, and I haven't drunk alcohol of any kind. I went for a walk in Llandaff Fields to see if fresh air would clear my head. It didn't. With a cold wind blowing and drizzle, eight degrees C felt like zero.

An all-age Welsh Amateur Athletics cross country runners' meeting was under way in the park with scores of participants from primary school aged kids to middle aged adults and even older men and women. Despite the vile, weather onlookers seemed to be enjoying themselves, some choosing to jog from place to place rather than walk, presumably to keep warm. The running piste will be very muddy by this evening.

After lunch I had to ret reat to bed for an hour, but couldn't settle to sleep properly. In the end I went out and paced the streets until sunset. The toxic hangover in my head slowly dispersed by the time I reached home, some nineteen hours after taking the statin. What on earth is going on? Which of the three different medications is upsetting me, or is it a combination of them?

Clare made a vegetable soup for supper. I was talking as I took my second clot dispersal med of the day automatically and then couldn't remember if I had or not. I'm not good at recalling more than one thing at a time. If I get distracted and for instance, put my phone down, moving about the house, it can take a me a while to track it down. The advantage of taking two of the same capsules daily is that checking is easy. If I haven't, the remaining number of capsules will be odd. I just have to check by counting them. Unless of course I've missed two doses. Then I may be in trouble!

After we'd eaten, I recorded and edited next Wednesday's Morning Prayer, aware that I may need to do this early in case the intoxicating effect of the meds continues to make me feel poorly, or even worse. Early beg again tonight

Incorrect apostrophe use

A cold windy day, more rain expected in the afternoon, but a glimpse of sunshine breaking through cloud cover for a while beforehand. Nearly ten hours in bed, three without sleep. I'm getting used to it, and fall asleep between interruptions unless digestive system discomfort prompts bad dreams keeping me awake for longer. After getting up and taking my blood pressure medication my head felt like I'd been poisoned. It takes an hour to recover. I went for a walk before lunch to clear my head but it didn't work. I have a mild headache, unusual for me. Is this to do with taking different clot dispersal medication in addition to the statin?

The missing specs turned up underfoot when Clare was opening the back door, fortunately unbroken apart from a lens popping out. When I returned home wet yesterday I must have removed my rain coat to hang up to dry in the utility room and dislodged them from the jacket pocket I keep them in when I'm outdoors.

After breakfast the plumber arrived to inspect the bathroom bidet which has developed a persistent leak. It was installed eight years ago and has survived  daily use since then. Not bad for a mechanism made from a few plastic components I suppose. Just he rang the door bell, as I was reading the story of God's promise to Noah that the land would not be covered again by a flood. It made me smile.

In Llandaff Fields I noticed nine new saplings, planted recently, compensating for the removal of several decrepit chestnut trees. So glad the City Council is investing in different species better adapted to climate extremes. Good for carbon capture, enhancing biodiversity and beautifying the landscape. I wonder when pieces of two large recently felled trees will be removed?

I slept for three quarters of an hour after lunch and my brain didn't feel quite as intoxicated by the meds. Clare and I went for a brief circuit of Thompson's Park. The wind chilled both of us. Then we went to the Co-op on Cowbridge Road for kefir and fruit juices on our way home for carrot cake and a hot drink.

After supper I started writing this blog post, and for some no reason I can put my finger on began to muse on the correctness of the abbreviation used for 'spectacles'. Is it spec's, with the apostrophe representing the omitted 'tacle', or not? Googling revealed that I'd been using the apostrophe incorrectly since I began wearing prescription glasses over ten years ago. I searched my blog for the incorrect version, about a dozen of them, and changed the postings, including several titles. It was amusing to find a number of those blogs referring to specs lost and found in church contexts - more often than not.

Talking of sight, since the stroke I have had problems noticing, identifying and remembering objects I'm looking for. It has caused me to miss things and have difficulty finding them, especially dark objects in shadow. It's a result of the brain being slower to process optic nerve input and make connections, and there is a small amount of sight loss in the corner of my left eye, plus loss of field of vision in both eyes, I must learn to live with. But there are days of surprise as well as days of confusion when I'm quicker recognising objects and remembering correctly what I've seen. I can't figure out why yet. I wonder if it depends on how much sleep I get?

TACO

I woke up at eight to the sound of Owain, first up this morning, was getting ready to go to work at the HMRC office in the city centre. I listened to the news until it was time to take my meds at nine. Despite a relatively good night's sleep I felt unwell, half asleep with a slow brain impairing my memory for most of the morning. Taking the statin at bed time instead of in the morning has made no difference at all. The new clot dispersal meds are having an impact on my digestion and maybe my head too. Although there's been no brain fog, my mental processes are unnaturally slow. I even forgot to say the daily Office this morning It might be fatigue, or a low level response to the combination of meds. 

I wrote a letter to the GP asking for a referral to  the consultant, Dr Tom Hughes describing how I'd been affected by the resumption of the statin, and delivered it to the surgery, on my way to walk for an hour in Llandaff Fields. I went out after a change of trousers and forgot to transfer spare change and keys to the clean ones. Clare was out, but fortunately I was able to retrieve a spare one from our next door neighbour. The day started dry with clouds lifting. Rain returned and persisted until evening. Clean trousers and shoes were soaked by the time I got home.

At Davos, Trump has started to moderate his aggressive coercive tone pressurising NATO allies over Greenland. He's dropped the threat of tariffs and agreed to work in partnership with allies to defend the Arctic circle region from Russian and Chinese challenges. NATO allies are coming to terms with having to increase defence spending under pressure from him. Diplomatic determination by allied nations pushing back against his threats has enabled a compromise to be reached and Trump has changed his tone. He's tagged with the acronym TACO  in social media  - Trump Always Chickens Out.  There really was no need to reach a resolution of this issue so publicly, but he is determined to make himself the centre of attention any way he can. Like the game show host he once was. 

Trump's Board of Peace initiative launched at Davos with World Leaders accepting his invitation to his alternative international agency to the UN. Britain holds back from joining, partly because Putin has accepted and because the government is reviewing the legal ramifications of membership. As one UN official commented, Board members aren't elected or appointed as delegates to represent their country. This is Trump acting as if he's King of the World. No matter how well intended are his stated aims, his attempt at coercive control with American might behind him his recourse to lies and incorrect facts to achieve his objectives sows confusion and division not harmony in the community of nations. 

Since writing the GP letter this morning, I have been unable to find my everyday working specs. I've looked in every room in the house, and found an assortment of specs, mostly driving glasses, no longer suitable for reading and middle distance use. I have just one set left, my 'best' set that needed repairing a few months back as I used them so much that they lost a vital screw, causing a lens to fall out. I've looked everywhere I've been in the house since last using them, but so far no result.

This has not been a good day for me. Is it exhaustion? Is it new and existing meds interacting in a way that leaves me feeling worse not better? It's hard not to feel pessimism about my condition and that of the world. Maybe an early night will help.

Loose cannon

An overcast day with occasional light drizzle, better than yesterday's persistent rain. Inevitably I lost sleep, my bladder  irritated by the statin I took last night. My head was clear when I got up, but light headed. My thinking was slow, but no brain fog. 

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's along with seven others. It's St Agnes' Day today, stirring fond memories of the community in the St Paul's area of Bristol where parishioners taught me how to be a parish priest and pastor. Sion announced that I would be presiding at the Wednesday Mass next week. My next challenge. Several regular attenders expressed warm appreciation for my return to duty. The prospect is slightly unnerving though, given the light headedness I experience in the morning.

There's a lot going on in the news at the moment. Trump's initiative to coerce Denmark into selling Greenland to the USA is a key issue for discussion at the World Economic Forum meeting in Davos. He threatens to impose tariffs on countries opposing the sale. World leaders have reacted with open criticism, pushing back against him by contemplating the imposition of retaliatory tariffs. Trump's acquisition strategy includes an insinuation that the use of force to acquire Greenland ownership cannot be ruled out. This has really got the backs up of EU national leaders and the British government, and caused widespread moral outrage. Now he's trying to talk his way out of the crisis he has provoked by justifying his desire to own Greenland, rather that continuing to develop existing security partnerships. He's a loose cannon in the world of international relations.

Defence of the Arctic region is important to all stakeholders. So is the defence of national sovereignty. Resort to force by the USA would spell the end of NATO. An attack on one is an attack on all. Giving consideration to using economic and military force over diplomacy is foolish dangerous talk. A fall in the US stock market, indicates a loss of economic confidence in the present status quo, also echoed in nervousness about bilateral American trade deals. 

Trump's unpredictability undermines trust voters had in him. In spite of this, he gave a press conference on the first anniversary of his presidential inauguration bragging about his achievements he regards as successful. Power has gone to his head.  Immigrants who helped vote him into office see immigrants forcibly deported. Using National Guard troops to enforce inner city law and order violently has been badly received. No wonder his popularity rate is dropping. 

At lunchtime I started taking the alternative blood thinners with aspirin. I'm wondering what impact this will have on my ability to preside at the Eucharist again. Hopefully, the more preparation I do the better I'll cope. I walked to my acupuncture appointment at two and came away feeling less light headed and I walked for three quarters of an hour returning home via the park. Sister in law Ann called to tell us that her niece Helen is getting married in the spring. 

Then we had a call from Clare's Steiner school colleague's son Florian in Germany to say that his father Peter had just died. A decade ago Peter in his sixties had a heart and lung transplant. Amazing to think he survived so long. He taught Rachel and Owain when he worked in the Bristol Steiner school, an innovative social project in its time, sadly now closed. May he rest in peace.

Owain arrived to spend the night with us. He's attending a team meeting in the Cardiff HMRC office tomorrow before returning to Bristol. It's good to have his company, even for a short time. 

BT impersonators and more medication misery

Another dull damp day, but I think I slept a bit better. Ten hours in bed, three of them awake and a couple of dreams at the point of waking up to pee. I think they were travel dreams. I was listening to a news item about Chinese hacking activity when a phone call arrived from someone with a Chinese accent purporting to be from BT, alleging our router settings had been changed to allow password free wi-fi access and that malware was downloading on to our network, presumably via a drive-by exploit. The caller wanted me to access the router admin account to remedy this, and was offering help to do so. Given how recently it was that the system was configured by an OpenReach engineer and knowing exactly who has logged into our wi-fi since then, I asked a few questions for clarification. 

Vague answers amplified my suspicion, so I then challenged the caller to identify herself in a way I could verify. She became more pushy. I put the phone down. Within a minute a 'supervisor' called and continued where the woman had left off. I put the phone down on him too. I was half awake when the calls started but fully awake when they ended and somewhat distressed. I called the BT contact number on my mobile, went through the security check and received a return call. A secure connection check confirmed that all was in order. The call was from a scammer trying to hijack the account. I was advised of the way to check independently in future if there had been breach of wi-fi security and that set my mind at rest.

While I was on the phone, I ate my daily banana, drank water and took my first pill of the day and then got dressed. I was under the impression I had a GP appointment at ten. This interruption had wasted the hour I had to eat breakfast and get myself to the surgery. I got there five minutes late, only to discover the appointment is this afternoon. I had misread my digital diary. What an upset, what a mess! 

Clare's study circle was arriving when I got home. I had breakfast in the kitchen on my own then checked if I had taken my first pill of the day. I have a tendency to do things automatically and not remember if I really follow my daily routine. It's difficult if I get disrupted. It wasn't clear if I had followed the routine. Strips of medication currently in use by the pharmacy don't have days of the week helpfully printed on them, I don't get on with those fiddly pill box accessories marked with days of the week,  so I now have to write the days on the medication pack. Writing on foil doesn't always show clearly. After the stroke I used a daily tick sheet as part of the meds routine plus a phone notification. Now I only take two pills a day at different times, it's easier to remember. If I get disrupted, I'm in trouble.

I returned to the surgery in the rain for my appointment at three. The wind blew so fiercely and erratically I couldn't control my brolly and risked damaging it. The GP I saw addressed concerns written in the letter I delivered. Apparently, not taking statins adds to the risk post stroke. The body produces more cholesterol than normal. Being dairy free is said to make no difference. I wasn't offered a cholesterol test that would confirm this, however. I said the statins made me feel poorly and deprived me of a morning's activity. It was suggested I take the med at bed time instead. It remains to be seen how I cope, given the number of times I get up to pee in the night. 

Dr Hughes the cardiologist had written to the surgery recommending replacing the clot dispersal med with aspirin plus another with a long unpronounceable name. This is said to stop blood leakage from minor wounds like my big toe and perineum. I took the prescription to the pharmacy opposite the surgery and was told a delivery was awaited. Tomorrow, hopefully.

The rain worsened on my way home. I collected household waste paper reading for collection tomorrow, but was unable to put it into the relevant blue bag without getting soaked and had to wait for a break in the rain to finish the job. It didn't stop for long. I paced up and down indoors for exercise to keep my blood circulating in an effort to lower my blood pressure. The GP said it was very high. This wasn't a surprise to me, the way I was feeling. The scam call this morning upset me and my reaction to it along with feeling trapped by there being no alternative to a set of meds that rarely leave me feeling well, continued right up to bed time

Landline live again

Another dreary day, but I slept fairly well and woke up with a clear head. A welcome improvement. As I cut my over-long toe nails when I was getting up, I nicked my big toe, which bled profusely due to the clot dispersal meds I'm obliged to take. Fortunately, Clare was at hand, found a plaster and administered First Aid so I didn't need to hop around leaving a blood trail while searching for one. 

My memory was playing tricks on me this morning. I couldn't find my Fitbit charging dongle and looked everywhere as I had a distinct recollection of carrying it downstairs when I got up. Clare found it beside my bed. 

At ten I had an email from BT confirming that our landline number would be reinstated today. Ashley, who had been trying the number earlier was my first caller to get through at his third attempt. Owain called an hour later. Twelve days without a landline number over at last!

At eleven an email notification arrived from the Disclosure and Barring Service, reminding me to renew my subscription as a volunteer to their annual update service. It's a requirement of the Church in Wales for retaining Permission to Officiate to keep my registration up to date. I may have been inactive for the past five months, but wish to remain available for ministry if called upon.

After lunch I walked to the Cathedral to return a service booklet inadvertently brought home yesterday.  Clare noticed the 'Not to be taken away' legend on the cover. I sat in the nave and said Morning Prayer on my phone belatedly, having forgotten to do so when I got up. Another memory lapse. I think poor quality sleep is affecting me.

I walked down to the Taff on my way home. At Blackweir bridge two big tree trunks carried downstream by floodwater were beached on the weir, torn out by the roots from the river bank. The verge of the spine road is covered with snowdrops and daffodil shoots six inches tall. Close to the stables there's a spot by a fence where one clump of daffodils are in full bloom, a couple of weeks advanced on the others. It's the same every year. I wonder why?

I heard a woodpecker call as well as a thrush and a robin, with others I didn't recognise and caught sight of a pied wagtail. It's seven degrees today and seems more like early spring than winter.

I had a lovely chat with Rufus when I got home. His job as Ministry to Seafarers' Chaplain to Welsh ports has been extended to cover Avonmouth as well. A huge area to cover but it's interesting and varied work which he relishes. Industrial mission with a pastoral heart. After our chat I fell asleep in my armchair for an hour before supper. Normally I doze off after lunch. One way or another I seem to need at least seven hours of sleep to get through the day. Tonight I'm going to bed an hour earlier than usual to see if it makes a difference to sleep quality.

Coercion over Greenland

Light rain all day today. I didn't sleep well and felt tired all morning. Neither of us fancied a Christingle ceremony added to a Family Eucharist at St Catherine's, so we walked under umbrellas to the Cathedral for the well attended eleven o'clock Sung Eucharist instead. An infant was baptized during the service, in an informal and relaxed way by Fr Ian Yemm the Precentor. 

A setting of the Latin Mass by Rutter was sung by the choir which I didn't appreciate. An unusual reaction. Dissonance in choral harmony can be ethereal and uplifting, but on this occasion I found it irritating. At the end of the service we were treated to a big Bach toccata, which was a consolation. On the way home we visited Llandaff village supermarket to get some wholemeal flour. Bread ingredients had run low as Clare set about baking a fresh batch, and had to rely on strong white flour instead of wholemeal, this time, but it turned out well anyway.

I slept for an hour in the afternoon, overcame my tiredness and went shopping to Tesco's for chicken, salad and fruit. Yesterday's outing to Bute Park orchard displaced routine weekend grocery shopping and I walked home in the rain as darkness descended early under low cloud. I had nothing else to do after supper, so watched the last couple of episodes of Le Carre's 'Little Drummer Girl' on iPlayer. As a period piece of the 1960s, it was stylish, well crafted, not easy to follow as the dialogue was muted, low key. The espionage narrative portrays the story of deadly enmity, retaliation and vengeance told from both Israeli and Palestinian sides. It portrays an intelligence chief representing the British colonial establishment as contemptuously racist towards Arabs and antisemitic at the same time, failing to come to terms with the  post war situation in the shadow of the Holocaust and the outcome of the Balfour Declaration.

Here we are eighty years after the Holocaust with Palestinian Gaza in ruins its people dispossessed of land, security, as the price paid for defeating Hamas with Trump appointing a post-war reconstruction 'Board of Peace' with eminent persons to oversee the setting up of a new governing body of Palestinian technocrats for rebuilding the Gaza Strip. Will he impose his will on redevelopment and reconstruction in favour of remaking the territory as a luxury holiday destination. He has openly mused about the potential for doing this. For a long while Trump mused about buying Greenland, as an important strategic asset for the defence of the Arctic region, now Russia and China as well as western nations have navigable waters due to global warming and melting of sea ice. The security concerns are real enough. 

In principle NATO is meant to operate in military partnership to defend the region, but Trump wants ownership control, and this risks the break up of the Alliance. He is using economic coercion in an attempt to force his will on other nations, flexing his muscles like a dictator. I can't imagine Russia or China being too worried about this. Trump's behaviour, and his unpredictable style of leadership risks weakening not strengthening the ability of the West to defend itself against aggression. Uncertain times indeed.