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.

Wassailing at Bute Park's community orchard

A respite from days under cloud cover and damp atmosphere with blue sky and mild dry air. I woke up after ten hours in bed, nearly three hours awake, only a fair night's sleep. Clare cooked crispy buckwheat pancakes for breakfast. In an effort to avoid a build up of painful wind I renounced marmalade and honey and had a more comfortable day as a result.

After an early lunch we left for a rendezvous at Bute Park's 'Secret Garden' cafe, where Clare was joining the singers of 'Canna Capella' community choir which was taking part in a Wassailing celebration at the community orchard in a woodland area of the park. As we walked down the Spine Road, I helped a couple whose tricycle was stuck manouvering on the roadside verge, and lost sight of Clare striding purposefully to her rendezvous. When I arrived I still couldn't spot her in the crowd of people processing from the cafe to the orchard, accompanied by the Mari Lwyd effigy, which presided over winter festivities in The Half Way Inn last Tuesday, and provided us with some super photos of Clare and Rachel with the Mari Lwyd from Rachel's phone. 

I followed the procession, but it was hard to get suitable photos in the convivial chaos, until the crowd filled the corner of the field where the orchard is located. Then it was difficult to move around as the ground was treacherously uneven. I was reminded of my physical vulnerability in no uncertain terms. The community orchard project is led by 'Friends of Bute Park' which is developing this next to mature woodland planting edible fruit trees and enhancing its biodiversity. An excellent initiative by Cardiff's ecophile community.

Many in the procession banged pots or drums as they marched. A number of people in the gathering crowd wore green garb and wreaths of ivy. The Mari Lwyd effigy is a symbol of good luck I believe. As well as a crowd singing Wassail songs, a poem in English celebrating the occasion was read. Mulled cider and apple juice distributed for a toast to the orchard's established and newly planted trees, and drinkers encouraged to make a libation to them as an act of blessing, Chunks of bread were on offer for anyone wanting to toast a piece of bread, and stick it through a bare tree branch, presumably to benefit insects and birds. 

A convivial celebration of harmony with nature and the fertility of the land, ritual derived from pagan folk tradition. A secular equivalent to Rogationtide processions, acceptable to people that don't otherwise 'do God' maybe. There's nothing wrong with revering nature and celebrating the environment. Last year's Wassail attracted thirty people. This year, nearer a hundred and fifty. 

Organised expressions of religion have been abandoned by the majority. Hunger for community, sharing high ideals values and aspirations remains, expressed by borrowing from traditional pagan and Christian ritual and language. It doesn't depend on institutions, but on creative imaginations experimenting with ways to prevent life from being drained of the meaning established religion gave until it lost its credibility, if not its spiritual heart. One way or another, God never leaves his people without witness to his gracious presence in our ever changing world. 'If only you would hear his voice, harden not your hearts'

The celebration finished in good time before sunset, so we weren't walking home in the dark. After supper I prepared this week's Morning Prayer video slideshow and uploaded it to YouTube. I also sent my sister June a happy 91st birthday greeting for tomorrow - a couple of fresh family photos and an audio recording of Clare, Rachel and myself singing her 'Happy Birthday to you'. And so to bed.

A business blame game

Another damp overcast day, but a fair night's sleep. After breakfast I recorded next Wednesday's Morning Prayer. The Biblical Reflection on an apocalyptic text from Matthew's Gospel was challenging to write, rather glum for Epiphanytide. Although my focus was reasonably sharp, I stumbled several times when reading the text. Editing took longer than usual. A recording made of half a dozen sound files, was tricky to piece together due to attention lapses. Although I woke up with a clear head, brain fog crept in. I recall feeling like this before as dehydration started affecting me, so I drank a few glasses of water and it helped me to concentrate and finish the job. 

In the morning's mail was another equipment delivery return mailbag from TalkTalk, which I'd not asked for and had no need of, as I returned their kit earlier in the week. I went out for a breath of fresh air and took the letter wrote last night around to the GP surgery. Clare had started cooking lunch by the time I returned home. After eating a spent an hour contacting TalkTalk via Direct Messaging to complain about the phone number not being switched over as requested, and the appearance of the equipment return bag. It was a frustrating exchange with TalkTalk blaming BT and BT blaming Talktalk for not reinstating our home phone number. The delay continues, and the work won't be completed until after the weekend. All I got was confirmation that the account closure process began on 7th January when our BT broadband service went live. No admission of responsibility for the twelve day delay in reinstating our existing home phone number, and dismissal of my compensation claim for lack of service. I think this is a story worth telling to the BBC's 'You and Yours' programme. Assembling all the pieces of evidence and transcribing the Direct Messaging thread will not be easy. Ashley says that telecoms companies deliberately make it difficult to change service providor. Will it prove worth the effort? I'm not sure. 

Coed Organics is no longer supplying us with a weekly organic veggie bag and we have to remember to stock up to avoid running out before the weekend. The sun was setting by the time I went out to buy veggies and walk in the park.

While writing after supper I had a text message from TalkTalk acknowledging my complaint and referring this to the dispute resolution team. The fact that TalkTalk considers a complaint a dispute presumes an adversarial stance on its behalf. So much for customer concern and quality of service. The company excels at damaging its reputation and wears down those with serious issues to resolve until they give up trying.

I spent the evening after supper writing a homily for the Eucharist I've been asked to offer at St Catherine's the Wednesday after next. Curiously, enough I found this exercise quite  refreshing. I may sleep well tonight.

TalkTalk's customer disservice

Last night was nightmarish. Medication upset my digestive tract which produced painful pockets of wind that kept me half awake. Everything I worry about, consciously or unconsciously surfaced and awakened anxiety. I felt out of control, unable to get to sleep. When I finally dropped off after an hour away I slept late, missing the GP 8.00am phone queue to book an early appointment, rather than wait five days for one I have booked. I sent a text message to Ashley to ask if he could help me troubleshoot our lack of landline phone connection. He has a lot of experience and understanding of telecoms issues. Once he found that he couldn't get through on our established number he went into action with an inquiry which revealed that TalkTalk has not released our landline number for switch-over. 

The TalkTalk operative he got through to alleged I had cancelled the instruction to end the account, when my complaint about TalkTalk service was resolved before Christmas. The message received from TalkTalk about my complaint gave me no opportunity to acknowledge and confirm just a phone number to call and resume discussion about closing the account, which I had no reason to respond to. 

TalkTalk is obliged by law to switch over if a customer requires it. I arranged with their returns team to mail their equipment back to them and done so already. There is no excuse. On the basis of not being able to reach me by phone, Ashley lodged a complaint BT could pursue with TalkTalk to relinquish control of the number. It will take another four days for this to take effect. That's twelve days we have been deprived of our landline. Ashley made it clear that it was urgent 'for medical reasons'. He thinks it justifies making a complaint to OFCOM for compensation. I couldn't have got this far without him.

This is not the first time I've had issues with the quality and clarity of communications from TalkTalk. It was one of the reasons why I decided to close my account in the first place. I've decided to contact the BBC 'You and Yours' consumer programme to tell them the story. I need to gather the relevant evidence in preparation for an OFCOM complaint in any case.

Exhaustion plagued me through a morning of intense phone conversation. I went out and walked for half an hour to clear my head, then prepared veggies for lunch while Clare cooked a savoury dish with a block of tofu - weird bland stuff, but improved by her treatment. I slept soundly in my armchair for a hundred minutes after we'd eaten and finally felt less fraught and clear headed. Then we went for a walk in the park together until dusk. It's been unpleasant, bone chillingly damp all day, but I need the exercise to cope with what I'm going through.

After supper I wrote a detailed review of the medications I'm prescribed and their impact on me to send to Dr Jordan. I have an appointment next week, but can't be sure I'll be able to mention everything that has an impact on me, so nothing gets forgotten in our face-to-face interview. It took me a couple of hours to piece together what I needed to remember and express it clearly. So tiring. Bed time already.

Return to service

Cold and cloudy today. Only six hours sleep, but I woke up clear headed, without brain fog and stayed like this. After 'Thought for the Day' I posted today's YouTube Morning Prayer WhatsApp link to the Parish prayer thread, then got up for breakfast. 

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. Seven of us today. Being properly clear headed at Mass for a change was something to give thanks for. On quite a few occasions in the past six months I was so poorly at worship I wondered if it would be my last Communion.

 I pondered on the prospect of taking a service again, as I did on Sunday too, as I was also feeling better then. When Fr Sion asked afterward how I was getting on, I reported on the improvement I've experienced the past few days. Earlier he reflected on the story of the call of Samuel the prophet. Spontaneously he asked if I'd be willing to deputise for him again at a Wednesday service. We both laughed when I said what I'd been thinking about. I said yes, with no need to book dates in mind yet! As long as I have time to prepare and brain fog doesn't return, I believe it would be therapeutic. 

When we lived in Versoix, I remember once attending a Mass in the Catholic parish church. The priest conducted the service sitting on a stool behind the altar. His ability to move freely and stand was limited as a result of a stroke, his voice and upper body still worked however. He'd recovered enough to continue in ministry, an example to fellow priests and congregation members I still recall thirty years later and told the story to Sion. Later he messaged me asking if I'd stand in for him on the 28th of this month.

I cooked a spicy red bean and mushroom dish for our lunch, and after a rest walked in Llandaff Fields before it got dark. I emailed a worried Kath to reassure her I'd thought carefully about giving up statins before stopping them. I so needed a respite from brain fog, and I'm less tired now. That can't be bad can it?

After supper I wrote next week's biblical reflection on a difficult biblical reflection for next Wednesday on understanding St Matthew's apocalyptic Gospel passage. Fears of a destructive end to our world by one means or another, are rife in news feeds that thrive on fear, uncertainty and doubt. It took me longer than usual to express insights clearly, but it was interesting to note how similar biblical fears are to ones picked up by algorithms pushing out bad news. 

One small step

I woke up early on hearing the sound of creaking floor boards as Clare started getting up early to get ready to make sure Rachel got up and was ready for her six thirty walk to Sophia Gardens for the coach to Heathrow. She was well prepared and we waved her off on time with no rush or last minute worries about forgotten things. So sad to see her go. We went back to bed and consoled each other with cuddles until we both dozed off for a couple of hours. After breakfast domestic chores resumed - washing bed linen, turning mattresses and so on.

Rachel's coach broke down at Newport, but a travel crisis was averted by the dispatch of a replacement bus from Llantrisant. She arrived late, but had plenty of slack in her travel schedule. I cooked prawns with rice, spinach and red pepper for lunch. Rachel messaged us while we were eating to say her flight was now boarding. Coincidentally Kath's flight home from Alicante following Anto's birthday weekend was also boarding at lunchtime.

We both needed a snooze, but I couldn't settle to sleep, so I took the redundant router to the Post Office for mailing back to TalkTalk, and bought some groceries on my way home. After tea we went out for a sunset walk. The sky was overcast, dusk seemed to arrive early. 

Clare decided to revive an old iPad she hasn't used much since I gave her a Samsung Tab. It charged OK, but booted into setup mode, probably because its battery had completely drained. She needed to be sure that if she got rid of it, the data it contains could be wiped from it. After signing the device into its iCloud account it was possible to use some of its apps, but it wouldn't accept the Google account password. My attempt to wipe data and settings failed as it asked for a pass code that wasn't written in Clare's meticulous secret password booklet. I rebooted the device and was asked for a pass code to unlock it. Fortunately Clare remembered this, and it turned out to be the same as the one needed to expedite the system reset. 

As I'd never used an Apple device before its security protocol and keyboard was unfamiliar, different from Microsoft, Android or Chrome devices I've used, I had to learn by trial and error how to operate it. Since the traumatic painful experience of two ENT medics trying to stop my nose bleed in A&E after the stroke, I react with panic in any situation where I feel I'm out of control. Despite the mistakes made in getting the iPad restarted and wiping it. I didn't panic. One small step in the right direction hopefully. Before going to bed I went for a twenty minute walk in fresh air, relishing the fact tonight my head is clear for a change.

Leave taking sadness

A mild wind is blowing rain clouds from the west today. I slept fairly well, my head is clearer without the statins. A work team from Welsh Water repaired a leaking water pipe a few days ago and filled in the hole excavated next door but one. A huge lorry parked in the street, blocked a large delivery van for an hour. I responded to a few messages, but didn't do much else as I felt lethargic.

In Iran the death toll of anti-government protesters is over a thousand. A top government official speaks of protesters as 'enemies of God' a term that carries a death sentence. Blasphemous religious legalism. Trump is threatening military action against the regime. There's a risk it could go wrong. The regime is not going to back down, promising retaliation against US Middle East bases and shipping. Internationalising the conflict is in no-ones interests. Iranian patriots suspect and resent American interference in their revolution to rid themselves of a powerful corrupt religious regime. Trump has added to the unpredictability of the outcome. Meanwhile I wonder what Russia is up to behind the scenes?

After lunch, Rachel went for a chiro session with Clive Taylor. I felt tired enough to need an hour's snooze before going out and walking in Llandaff Fields for another hour. Although I got the fresh air I needed, tiredness plagued me into the evening. Clare asked me to buy some butter while I was out. I wasn't sure how much she needed and called home, only to find our home phone number hasn't yet been reinstated. Three to five days I was told. If it's not active tomorrow I'll have to waste time contacting and nagging OpenReach. TalkTalk is keeping me waiting for a dedicated equipment return post bag, delivery also promised in three to five days. It's so frustrating, not having closure on account changeover.

Rachel checked in for her return flight this evening. It took her a while to decide which case or cases she was going to take. She keeps clothes here with us, as well as a spare guitar. Her grandpa's 'cello doesn't return with her. The Arizona climate could be detrimental to this century old instrument. She loves to play it when she's here. It's part of her process of reconnecting to family roots. She's planning to return for good in the coming years. Jasmine is a europhile and could well settle here after university. Rachel has no family attachment to Phoenix and wants to return to Wales. I hope I'll live long enough to see this happen. I grieve, just thinking about parting company again, not knowing what the future holds for us.

Rachel and I practiced a musical family birthday greeting for my sister's 91st next Sunday m. Clare joined us to record us singing it together. Rachel has a very early coach in the morning and intends to walk to Sophia Gardens. I'm not sure if I'll feel well enough to accompany her  Early bed for all of us tonight. 

Questions

Grey sky and drizzle today. I didn't take my daily statin when I got up this morning, and didn't feel foggy headed, just a bit light headed from the dose of Losartan. 

In the news, Mass protests about the economic crisis against the corrupt and incompetent government of Iran are being suppressed by brutal violence causing over five hundred deaths. Internet and phone services have been shut down, but it hasn't stopped video reports from getting out. Trump is threatening to intervene, which could lead to reprisals against American forces. His perverted Messianic complex drives him to throw his weight around and get himself noticed for being the 'strong man' who has an answer to every problem. His very unpredictability leads other political leaders to see him as unreliable

The three of us went to St Catherine's for the Eucharist with about thirty adults and a dozen noisy kids. Shopping at the Coop after a short stay in the church hall, then home for lunch. A snooze in the chair after eating, then a walk in the park with Rachel while Clare's study group held their session in our dining room.

 

We walked until sunset and arrived home just as rain returned after sunset. My head has been clearer and my wits sharper today in the absence of the daily statin. I don't know why. Will it be the same tomorrow? Am I particularly sensitive to this medication as a consequence of the stroke? Are the other drugs I take combined with the statin making me feel poorly, as if I had a hangover? Who knows? Time will tell. 

New music

A cold bright sunny day waking from a relaxed night's sleep, though not as long as I'd like with the usual disruptions. I felt light headed after taking my morning meds. Rachel wondered whether this might be due somehow to taking statins and Losartan at the same time. I now seem to be more sensitive to drugs I take. I'm either light headed or thick headed in the morning. Fresh air and exercise give some relief thankfully. Imade next Wednesday's Morning Prayer video after breakfast, uploaded it to YouTube and then went for a walk before lunch.

Clare Rachel and I went into town on the bus after we'd eaten. Rachel wanted to buy Welsh souvenir tea towels. My mission was to exchange the duplicate Kanneh-Mason CD I bought Clare for Christmas with one she doesn't already have. When we got home, I wrapped up Clare's present before giving it to her with a kiss. I also emptied the Post Office Money Card I'm unlikely to use again and then uninstalled the app from my phone. I'll keep the card rather than cancelling and cutting it up, in case I find a need to use it again. The euros on it were refunded in pounds sterling. Nineteen of them. If I were to go to Europe again, I'd use a Santander debit or credit instead and withdraw euros from an ATM.

We had a drink in John Lewis' Benugo cafe before returning home as it got dark. Navigating my way through crowded streets with contrasting levels of light intensity, dark shadows and people moving about in different directions was difficult. I bumped into other pedestrians twice, my field of vision impairment is really manifest in these conditions. I was tired when we got home but all in all, coped quite well with being in a busy shopping centre without bewilderment from over-stimulation.

After supper I updated my Linux workstation and decided to digitize the Rosalia CD 'Motomami' I bought before Christmas. It's been so long since I last did this I needed to find and install an app which would do the job. 'Sound Juicer' was the name of the app I'd forgotten. It's simple and easy to use, if a little slow. As its tracks had been copied to the Rhythmbox music player, I listened while the ripper worked. It's a strange strange album, which won Album of the Year in 2022 described as 'experimental pop' 

Rosalia questions and probes the complexities of female identity in a compressed distorted childlike voice. The backing music is complex, rhythmically heavy using percussive sounds, described as 'Reggaeton', a blend of hip hop, Latin American and Caribbean rhythms originating in Panama, popularised by Puerto Rican artists. Rosalia herself is Catalan. It's intriguing, not easy listening perhaps because it's different, completely different.

Marmalade time

Thank heavens, no rain this morning, the cloud cover is higher so it's not as dull as it has been recently. No snow in the city, but it's cold. Snow and inevitable travel chaos inland. My brolly is unusable, wrecked by recent violent wind when it rained. Getting to bed a bit earlier resulted in a fair night's sleep, and I woke up feeling brighter, but it didn't last long. I drank plenty of water and ate a good breakfast but the meds left me with a woozy head. I don't know why.

Rachel and Clare worked together on removing pips from the oranges and lemons cooked yesterday ready for jam making with the delicious citrus aroma perfuming the house. The second batch of this year's marmalade making has now been bottled.it's an enjoyable chore I like being involved with, but this year I lack the energy. Disappointing and frustrating. 

Rachel shared delicious truffles she's made last night, including a spiced Christmas favoured variety, one of her culinary specialities.

In an effort to clear my foggy brain I walked in Llandaff Fields for three quarters of an hour before lunch. It helps, but imperfectly. The impact of the clot busting meds takes its toll on my system, lowering my blood sugar, so that I feel poorly unless I can eat fast absorbing sweet fruit or something starchy to prevent me feeling faint or tired. My head feels like I've been poisoned.

After a lunch of pork sausages and baked potatoes followed by a little music making, recalling half forgotten songs, the three of us went for a sunset walk up to the Square and Fair café by the Padel courts. It was bitterly cold with a wind that chilled me to the bone on the way there and back.

Rachel and Clare went to 'The Romilly' after supper to witness the traditional  'Mari Lwyd' folk celebration to let the New Year into the pub. I didn't feel like braving the cold again so I stayed home, recorded next Wednesday's Morning Prayer and Reflection and edited it ready to use in video slide show making. The girls returned an hour later with video shots and selfies to show, with the ritual horse skull on a stick.

Huge crowds of citizens are on the streets of Iran, risking violent repression, protesting at the incompetence of an islamist regime that is leading to poverty and hardship. Will it lead to the downfall of its religiouss leadership and their corrupt cronies this time?

Owain called to chat. He's back at work now aiming to have a quieter time socially and a 'dry January'. For ne, bed early again.

Phone switch botch

Overcast with non stop rain through the day and into the night. It's snowing inland, but not cold enough near the coast. Nearly ten hours in bed, three hours awake. A fair night's sleep according to Fitbit. Not fair enough. I drank lots of water and ate a good breakfast, but felt thick headed all day.

The Crans-Montana bar managers are being charged in the aftermath of the fire which killed forty and injured 116. It's taken a week to identify all the victims, many were badly burned. There had been no safety inspections for the past five years. It sounds as if municipal building safety officials were asleep on the job or short sighted in their scrutiny. The use of flammable sound insulation materials and wood struts in the roof space was a disaster waiting to happen. Multiple failures to ensure public safety.

An OpenReach engineer arrived at eleven, checked the connections and the router I installed yesterday. All is working as intended. He exhorted us not to switch off the system at night as this can cause problems that report anomalies where none exist, but we can switch off the wifi mesh extension. Our cordless phone hub is now connected to the network through the router rather than the copper landline wall socket. He succeeded in tidying up the collection network and power cables and making a neat bunch out of them so we can buy a flexible wire spiral to wrap around the bunch and keep them tidy together. 

After his visit I contacted TalkTalk to request an equipment mailbag returning their router by mail. It took me twenty minutes using a direct messaging bot to achieve this. It could have been done in a few minutes speaking to a live human being directly, but employing real intelligent people to speak to directly is more expensive than a digital device. It may achieve the same result, but message and order processing wastes the client's time, not that of the business.

Clare bought bitter Seville oranges yesterday and started making this year's batch of marmalade after breakfast, and baking a batch of bread at the same time. Marvellous multi tasking! After a snack lunch, Rachel and I made music together. Sadly my hazy head and slow brain made my playing error prone. We went out in the rain to do some shopping. When we arrived at Beanfreaks, Clare had a phone call from our cleaner Jorja. We'd forgotten she was coming due to the disruption of the day. I only went out for fresh air and could have stayed home to welcome her. I returned home immediately to let her in and get dry.  My brolly is even more broken than it was before due to gusts of wind seizing it like a sail and bending stays until it's hard to close. What a horrible wet day.

On checking my emails, there was one from BT informing me of a new phone number, even though I had informed BT following their SMS to me a fortnight ago about keeping the existing landline number. I had to use their SMS help line and exchange messages with a 'bot' to explain what had happened and reach a live human being a quarter of an hour later to explain what had not happened. I now have to wait three to five days for our landline number to be reinstated. This may be due to TalkTalk not relinquishing control of the landline, or seasonal delay. It means that if the GP or hospital or any family or friends were to contact us on the landline number they couldn't get through. Most would use a mobile number for either of us instead - if they had it on record, but exceptions have the potential to cause trouble in the event of a crisis. It's annoying and unsettling.

Rachel cooked spicy vegetables to go with sea bass for our supper. Then she and I went out for a walk in the dark. The air temperature dropped and a gusty wind drove rain into us and soakee our top clothes. It was too unpleasant to walk far. I took refuge in writing a Reflection on the parable of the vineyard for next Wednesday' Motning Prayer instead and went to bed early again. 

Getting started with BT broadband

Cloudy again for much of the day but a bit warmer. I woke up early and posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp. Another disturbed night's sleep gave me a foggy head. It took me a long time to get started. BT bombarded me with email and text messages reporting on today's broadband activation. 

I got in a muddle about an OpenReach engineer installation visit, unsure if it was meant to happen today or tomorrow. I tried to confirm this visit by logging in to the BT app without success. I needed to have a phone signal and be attached to wi-fi for this, but at this stage I wasn't yet on on-line. I had to unpack the router and connect the cables, and power it up. When I did there was no sign of life to start with. It was slower to  start than I expected. The initial power-on self test ran a diagnostic check on the connection before the router would receive and send signals. Panic over. Then the chore of adding the new router's long password to various internet devices so they are ready to use when needed, rather than doing it in haste when I need to use them in a hurry

Kath returned home to Kenilworth after breakfast. Rachel investigated coach bookings for her return trip to Heathrow for the return flight to Arizona. We have had wonderful quality family time with all three children at home with us this Christmastide. They must all go their separate ways and live their own lives. but it breaks my heart to part company, conscious that in my condition I may not live to see them all together again in the flesh. They get on so well together, and show us such loving kindness and care.

Rachel us cooked an unusual veggie curry for lunch using fennel, red pepper and chick peas. After we'd eaten, I walked to Parkwood clinic for an acupuncture treatment and did a circuit of Llandaff Fields at sunset on my way home.

More music making with Rachel after supper, then early to bed in an endeavour to shake off persistent tiredness. 

Farewell to an old friend

The temperature went down to minus four overnight. Poor Owain, sleeping on the self inflating airbed in the lounge couldn't escape the chilly draught through the air vent that's also the fast access route for slugs from the garden. A noble gesture to allow his dad to sleep in his usual bed. A text message and email from British Telecom notified me of tomorrow's account switch from TalkTalk to BT. An OpenReach engineer visits on Thursday to configure the broadband link to work with the new 'digital voice' landline equivalent.

After breakfast, Kath drove me to St German's for Fr Roy's funeral Mass. Clare, Kath, Rachel and Owain went into the town centre for present shopping. It's Anto's birthday next weekend. The church was full of parishioners, family friends and colleagues from far and wide. Roy was a remarkable individual who lived the adventure of faith with humour, compassion, wise insight and great love for people, a charismatic personality, outgoing and always ready to celebrate life in all its fullness. The Solemn Requiem Mass was presided over by Fr Richard Lowndes, with Bishop Barry Morgan in choir and Fr Jarel officiating over the funeral rites.

Roy's god daughter delivered the eulogy, and Bishop Mary, who was unable to attend wrote a special prayer of thanksgiving for Roy's life. Bishop Michael Marshall preached a fine sermon reflecting on Roy's life as a pastor and priesthood in old age. He spoke about the clergy retirement experience of no longer feeling needed that comes when a priest is no longer in a leadership role, and the sense that part of a person called to ministry is the need to feel needed.

Last night I lay awake pondering on the impact and significance of the stroke which brought a halt to my active ministry. The haiku I wrote just before Christmas sums it up. 

Despite the chaos
of motion and sensation.
'Time to stop' it warns. 
Pay full attention and come 
to terms with yourself.

Coming to terms with myself is about accepting my new limitations, being grateful for moments when I'm reminded by others of how God's grace has been revealed in relationships which have influenced their lives and mine. Also in being ministered rather than ministering to others. A Word which speaks to my condition. The liturgy was traditional, catholic, beautifully choreographed and executed with moments of deep silence and singing. The hymns were those chosen for golden jubilee of his ordination. Roy would have loved it. Starting at noon, I knew I'd be at risk of low blood sugar, so I took some dates and mini pork pies with me, just in case. I wasn't overwhelmed by the stimulus of such a great celebration, not even at the buffet lunch reception in the crowded church hall after. I chatted with a few people I knew, then made my way to the nearest stop on Newport Road for a city centre bus. As I was on the move, a call from Kath told me she was taking Owain to the train station. He has to work tomorrow. We couldn't rendezvous for a farewell hug as time was too tight, so we took our leave of each other on the phone. It was sunset by the time I reached home. It was overcast, dark and drizzling, though not as cold as it has been in recent days.

Kath's school friend Mandy came for supper. It was good to see her again. She still looks a younger than her age. She's now one of the senior librarians at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, in charge of a collection of original musical scores, amongst other things, a dream job for her. Both her sons are musicians, one a rock drummer, the other a classical concert pianist. Amazing how the children's children turn out. After Mandy left Rachel and I played together for a while. It was hard going for me, as my hand muscles were painfully stiff from family music sessions over the past few days By ten the girls were on their way to bed, and I wasn't far behind. Our internet speed has dropped considerably. It's a consequence of the service providor switch taking effect I guess.

Twelfth night family reunion

Another frosty night under a bright full moon which has just started to wane. Bright sunshine and a clear sky when I woke up after a fairly good night's sleep. Owain came over to join his sisters to take Clare to St David's Spa for a belated birthday treat with her offspring. I didn't join them as I'm not sure if I can take that measure of unusual stimulus without being overwhelmed. It's a kind of vulnerability I've never experienced before, and I need to proceed with caution to avoid accidents. 

Instead of going with them, I did the grocery shopping, and then cooked a veggie sugo ready for tonight's pasta supper. I ate enough at lunchtime to ensure my blood sugar didn't drop but still felt unwell, my head throbbed as if I'd been poisoned, and my thought processes slowed down and became erratic. When I laid the supper table, I forgot to include myself. Fortunately however, I cooked enough for five. A walk in the park cleared my head, and this time when a pied wagtail landed on the path ahead of me I was quick witted enough to get a good photo of it. Earlier, Clare took a few photos of me with the girls. At supper time I took a full family photo of the five of us at the dining table using the timer with the camera perched on the piano. I must have taken the same picture of us all together at family gatherings many times over the years.

After supper we relaxed and made music together until tiredness caught up with each of us in turn.  

Guitar maintenance

Minus one when I got up in bright sunshine with the rising sun illuminating cirrus cloud over the horizon and frost on the ground. Clare made pancakes for Rachel's breakfast with gluten free flour, improvising a recipe as she went along. They were slow to cook, so it was just as well Rachel got up late. 

I went to the St Catherine's Eucharist on my own and did some food shopping on my way home. The girls were on their way out for a walk as I arrived, but I didn't go with them as I felt a bit light headed, though not as bad as when my blood sugar is low. 

Shopping in the Coop I found difficult with many visual distractions and items to hunt for, not always clearly visible. My brain processes slow down when it comes choosing and finding things on shelves as well as navigating my way around cramped aisles populated by other busy shoppers and shelf stackers. I find it drains me, and I need recovery time to clear my head. I have to be much more patient with myself, and that's perhaps the hardest thing of all to do.

We had our customary Sunday lunch of salmon, roast veg peas and snap peas, followed by mince pies, and went for a walk before tea. Out came the guitars for music making again, but this developed in an unusual way. Rachel discovered that my Bernal flamenco guitar had a broken D string. The spare D string Kath put on for me on a previous visit had snapped yet again. I was once told when buying strings that the D string is the one most prone to break. The reason for this physically speaking is unclear, as there's no flaw in the neck alignment or upper bridge of the guitar. Rachel took on the challenge of mounting a new string with a tiny cushion beneath the string where it connects with the bridge to spread the stress at the point where it is most likely to break.

Not only is she an accomplished guitarist, she loves working on instruments. She successfully fitted a sophisticated electronic pick-up to a guitar of her own, a job involving some careful carpentry. She said with enthusiasm that she'd love to train as a luthier. My 65 year old Tatay guitar is one she loves to play. it is a special instrument full on memories, scratches and dents. She's keen to give it some TLC. Decades ago the original machine heads needed replacement. I bought a pair and fitted one but either lost my nerve about fitting the second, or just never found time to finish the job. When she found the unused spare, she set about fitting it, a rather tricky task, but one which made her eyes light up with pleasure. I have a third guitar, a nice acoustic Fender, inherited from my sister Pauline's daughter Kay with a machine head that no longer turns. It's jammed. If I can buy a replacement machine head, I foresee Rachel bringing that instrument back  into service too.

We had a lovely relaxed evening playing together in different ways, piano, flute, guitars in action, pauses to  re-tune guitars as the strings settled down after maintenance, until tiredness defeated us all in the end and drove us early to bed.

Home reunion

Another bright frosty winter's day after a fair night's sleep. I woke up clear headed for a change and stayed like that until lunchtime low blood sugar assailed me. Clare cooked pancakes for breakfast, and afterwards I went grocery shopping. On returning I started to feel light headed as my blood sugar dropped, so I made haste to cook some pasta and make a chick pea and mushroom sugo to go with it. Fast food but tasty, and it quickly boosted flagging energy level. While waiting for Kath and Rachel to arrive, I walked in Llandaff Fields for an hour, and spotted a pair of pied wagtails foraging on the footpath but they moved too quickly to photograph. The girls had just arrived when I got home.

After cups of tea and biscuits, Rachel took out her grandpa's 'cello and started playing, I accompanied her on the guitar and Clare or Kath joined in on flute. I rarely feel inclined to pick up the guitar to play on my own, less so since the stroke, but when Rachel started playing, I automatically joined in with her, despite a few errors due to lack of practice for many months. My guitar playing relies on harmonising from memory and I found that my musical memory and ability to recognise things without latency isn't as affected as it is with visual memory, which still works, but is slower. For this, I am most grateful.

We went out for supper to Stefano's and had an excellent early evening meal. The rising 'Wolf' full moon was with us on the way to the restaurant and the way back. We stopped and howled at it, the way we did when the girls were young. When we got home we made more music until it was time for bed, preceded by a foot rub from Rachel. So lovely to be together again.

 was less impaired

Swiss tragedy

Another cold bright sunny winter's day. I benefited from getting to bed earlier, but only in the sense that I coped better with interrupted sleep, getting up half a dozen times to empty my bladder. I wake up now, eat a banana and drink water before taking my first round of pills, then I don't feel as poorly when I get up for breakfast. Clare made herself lunch early as she had an afternoon hospital appointment which requires her not to eat for several hours before the scan. When I got around to making my lunch at midday, I started to feel light headed and continued to feel poorly after l'd eaten. Then it occurred to me that I may not have drunk enough fluid to replace the amount lost overnight. I didn't feel desperately thirsty and drinking more than a litre of liquid isn't easy if swallowing muscles tend to work spasmodically.

Terrible news of a New Year's Eve fire at a party in a bar in the Swiss Valais ski resort of Crans-Montana killing over forty young people and injuring 115. Hospitals in Italy, France and Switzerland are receiving badly burned patients helicoptered from the site. Identifying victims will take time for forensic teams. Phone videos of the blaze as it spread through the bar ceiling, and attempts to extinguish it have appeared on social media. How could it happen? It's common enough to have lit candles on tables, flares, sparklers and firecrackers used at indoor parties, and if there are flammable festive decorations there's danger. In this case birthday cake sparkler candles were mounted on Champagne bottles People can take risks without realising it. Risk taking is part of the thrill of winter sports. Does this excitement extend to playing with fire indoors as well? Someone holding sparklers up, close to a wooden lattice ceiling in a warm dry environment, a moment's inattention in a crowded place could trigger a blaze with unforeseen tragic consequences. 

Text and email messages from BT arrived to say our new broadband router will be delivered at some time from today onwards. We still have to wait four days for an OpenReach engineer to come and install it. Tracking the delivery was useless. Not even an approximate time within the stated time frame was given. I had to stay in for the delivery as Clare had a hospital appointment. I didn't want to waste an hour's sunshine, so I put a note on our letter box asking that the parcel be left in the blue recycling bag in the front garden. Five minutes later as I was walking away, I had a text message informing me that delivery would take place mid morning tomorrow. 

I walked for an hour until sunset, and on my way home Rachel video called me from Kath's kitchen in Kenilworth. It was lovely to see her and Kath together again. They'll be visiting us tomorrow. She was still on line when Clare returned, slightly radioactive, she said, following a brain scan. Keep away from children for a while, she was told, while the radio isotope in her blood stream passes out of her system. Clare baked a fresh batch of delicious mince pies with her own mincemeat and puff pastry before supper. Another episode of 'Little Drummer Girl' after we'd eaten, then bed.

Inspiring faithfulness

I got to bed by eleven and slept through the midnight hour, without hearing any more fireworks, waking up just in time for Thought for the Day, delivered in verse by regular contributor Jane Manfredy. Clare and I had a lie-in together until breakfast time. Another bright sunny day, four degrees this morning. We went grocery shopping together. Most shops were shut but the Turkish supermarket on Cowbridge Road East was open. We bought vegetables and I cooked fish to go with them for lunch when we returned. I slept for an hour after we'd eaten, overwhelmed by tiredness.

I had an email message this morning from Staysure travel insurance about advising the company about any change in health status likely to affect my travel policy when time comes to renew it in three months time. Well, sadly that won't be happening. I won't be travelling abroad any time soon, maybe never again. To avoid complications with automatic policy renewal hassles, I'm going to cancel the policy early. I don't know if I'll get a refund for the last couple of months, but if I do it I won't need to contact Staysure and go through the hassle of dealing with the renewal process debiting my account automatically on the assumption there is no change in my insurability. 

I received an email this afternoon from the niece of one the last of the stalwart faithful members  of Saint James' Parish Church Tredegarville telling me that Iris Salmon had died recently, aged 92. Only ten days ago I sent her a Christmas card and newsletter, containing our contact details. Hence this message. She was a diminutive bright eyed woman with a wry sense of humour. I enjoyed working with her when she was church warden and I was Vicar of the church, now converted into apartments. 

Having failed to obtain EU social funding to turn the building into a church community resource centre, it was a hard decision to give up worship in a building that the small congregation could no longer afford to maintain, but her love for the parish she lived in and its church school led her to support the decision to continue services in the school hall on Sunday afternoons and Mondays after school, and she was a regular participant in these while they lasted, always quietly steadfast and faithful. I remember her telling me that as a young seamstress during the war she had worked on making parachutes for the military, so thorough, patient and loyal.

I'm especially thankful to our Maker for her gentle kindness and devotion to church life and its school in daunting times for faithful people. She never married, but was devoted to the children of the Parish. She never gave up on God or His church, as so many others did. May she rest in peace and rise in glory.

I walked in Llandaff Fields an hour as the sun was setting. At the top end of the park, I was accompanied by a big Mistle Thrush that hopped along the grassy path just ahead of me. Sometimes as the light begins to fade I glimpse movement in the trees or undergrowth, maybe a dark shape,  but because of my visual impairment I can never be sure if I'm seeing a bird, or a floater in my eye, or hallucinating. This time the bird hopped slowly, unafraid of me it seems, and its distinctive plumage was clearly visible at close range.

Today is the 75th anniversary of the launch of BBC Radio 4's soap opera 'The Archers', which I remember  being listened to on the radio at home on BBC Light Programme when I was a boy. Several programmes in the schedule are devoted to discussions about it. Womens' Hour this morning explored the portrayal of female characters over the years, and The Archers podcast is now a regular feature. Recent episodes have focused on the toxic and disruptive behaviour of young ex-prisoner George Grundy whose personality disorder drives him to alienate himself from family, friends and villagers. In tonight's episode George is found unconscious on a bridle path after a bottle has been smashed over his head. 

In an unusual innovative spin-off, a Radio 4 drama follows, set in a local police interview room where key soap opera characters, whose relationship with George have turned bad, are interviewed by the lead detective conducting enquiries. An interesting way of probing and exposing motivations. A great way of spinning out a dramatic story line affecting the whole village throughout the holiday season and turning it into a 'whodunit'. Then, the annual New Year's Day concert from Vienna's Musikverein on BBC iPlayer. As ever, it's a great delight. Given the many uncertainties the world faces with the shadow of war and catastrophic potential of climate change to destabilise the world, taking refuge in two hours of genteel optimistic music is a consolation before going to bed. It may not change the way the world is, but it may lift the spirits enough to help us face the future and keep us from despair