Darkness, a lost old friend

It wasn't easy to stay warm in the night with the temperature dropping to minus two. Early on I woke up in the middle of a lovely dream in which Clare urged me to join her in the garden and look up at the stars in a clear night sky. Thin high cloud this morning, the sun shines through it, but the temperature hovers around freezing. Still no snow. 

On my way home from town in the dark yesterday, I was aware there were fewer bikes on the path beside the river. It made me realise that the demise of the city's Next Bike scheme due to significant abuse and vandalism means fewer moments of being dazzled by LED bike lamps. A scheme for electric scooter hire is being mooted, I learned. These too, have dazzling LED lights, as do cars. This is raising some concern about eye health, and there are calls for the high standard of luminosity to be reduced. 

The replacement of sodium lamps by LED in public lighting does, in my view, improve night visibility on the streets, but the impact on nocturnal animals is going to be detrimental. It only diminishes light pollution if the design of lamp housings reduces upward light overspill. Bright light from so many vehicles, bikes and scooters also adds to the impact, robbing urban areas of completely starlit skies. What a loss this is to humankind, our primal source of awe and wonder. 

After breakfast I walked to St Catherine's to celebrate the Eucharist with ten others today. Marlene, one of our numbers is ninety next week, and we have enough regular who'll soon be the same age. Amazing women, shining light of faith and love in their eyes.

Afterwards I collected the veggie bag from Chapter, and was surprised to see only half the usual number of deliveries in the chest containing veggie bags. I'm always among the first to collect. That's a surprising downturn to a popular service. Is this seasonal selection not attractive, or are people economising on their expenditure. I hope not. These organic veggies last longer anyway and save money.

Clare made lunch early. She cooked a pork steak for me with brown onion gravy which made it delicious with spuds parsnips and cabbage. She went out to an afternoon appointment with the research team at the School of Optometry testing new equipment and procedures leaving me with both batches of grocery shopping to do. 

I'm Still puzzling over the problematic Powerpoint file display on my PC. I ran the file sent out on WhatsApp and found that it worked perfectly on a phone. It's a relief to know I've not been sending out gobbledygook files for others to read.

With my mind set at rest, I collected Clare's Beanfreaks order, then did the Co-op grocery shopping, all before sundown. A lot of pavement pounding. No walking in the park today. 

After supper, I watched this week's episode of 'Silent Witness' on catchup. Then, I braved a chilly shower room to wash my hair before going to bed, still pondering on the critique of a social media driven contemporary society embedded in the story-line of tonight's complex episode.

Not so happy Easter

This morning, I presided and preached at the St Catherine's Easter Sunday Eucharist, with about sixty adults and a dozen children present. Despite the lovely weather, and the enthusiastic efforts of the choir, somehow I felt the general mood of worshippers was subdued. We had, after all, woken up to news of mass murder by terrorists bombing churches in Sri Lanka. I found it hard to awaken the kind of responsiveness that's often possible in celebrating Christ's resurrection, perhaps because of so much disturbing news. I was pretty tired on my way home after, and throughout the rest of the day.

Owain came for lunch and spent the afternoon with us. We exchanged greetings with Rachel out camping this weekend with Jaz near Flagstaff Arizona, and Kath, Anto and Rhiannon in wet and stormy Santa Pola. We've had far kinder weather than both, for a change. After Owain returned to Bristol, I caught up with 'Follow the Money', and then watched 'Line of Duty', which yet again was too explicitly violent and gory at the end. It's simply un-necessary, detracting from the complexity of the plot lines. 'Follow the Money' has its share of nastiness on top of its complexity, but it's handled with greater care in my opinion. Thank heavens mainstream news broadcasting is generally more circumspect in what it shows of horrifying incidents.

  

A new year begins and another is remembered

We attended the Advent Sunday Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's today. In the afternoon Clare went to the German Lutheran Church concert with Royal Welsh College singers taking part at Conway Road Methodist Church, just around the corner from us. I hankered for a traditional Anglican start to Advent, and walked to the Cathedral at sunset for the Advent procession of Carols. Everything about it was beautiful and excellent - choice of music, much of it expected, but a few delightful modern surprises as well, with superb singing by the Cathedral choir. 

The nave of the Cathedral was full, though not the side aisles. Finding a seat with a good view meant walking right around the place. Texts were in English, with a little Latin, but no Welsh was used, sadly. I was a little disconcerted that the subdued 'vigil' lighting was just too dim for me to read from the hymn sheet. A sing of my age. I need much brighter light these days, and dared not resort to using my phone flashlight to see by. 

My eyes welled with tears during the opening responsory and hymn, sensing with heartfelt gratitude the continuity between this beginning of Advent liturgy, and worship in my student days, when my faith came fully alive and claimed me for priestly ministry. At the end of my first University term, I attended an Advent weekend silent retreat which opened my mind and heart in a way that has had a lasting effect on my life. Following this a month later with a Holy Week retreat with the Franciscans at Cerne Abbas completed what began at Advent.

Later, we watched the last episode of the dramatisation of Le Carre's 'Little Drummer Girl' on BBC One. It was a complex story of deception and betrayal, as spy stories are meant to be but I found the ever so stylish and authentic presentation just a little too disjointed to follow easily, cutting between sets of characters and scenarios without it being easy to figure out who was who, where they were and how the fitted in the story, despite occasional use of location titles. Good, but not really good enough to be gripping or persuade you care enough about the characters, all of whom seem to be in different ways, ruthless, cruel, manipulative and callous, on both sides of the Arab Israeli conflict. In the meanwhile, fifty years after this story was set, nothing really seems to have changed. The world continues to watch, seemingly helpless to effect any true justice and reconciliation on a scale which really matters.

Montreux bank holidays

New Year's day was quieter than a Sunday. It was mild and sunny with clouds until sunset, when it began to rain. In the afternoon I walked the lakeside path as far as the Chateau de Chillon with my camera, and got a decent close up photo of a bird I couldn't identify swimming off-shore. A flock of a hundred or so Scaup were swimming together nearby. This is an aquatic bird I hadn't come across until I identified a few of them among the Coots and Mallards on the rio Aguas in Mojacar back in November. I wonder if the birds live here or are spending the winter here, or just passing through?

In the evening I watched the New Year's Day concert from Vienna, always a favourite, and even more so now we've sailed on the not so blue Danube, seen Vienna, and the Vienna Woods slipping past. It prompted me to take another look at my on-line album of cruise photos, and realise just how little of Vienna we'd seen in our packed day's visit. Hopefuly, there'll be another time.

Then I watched first episode of McMafia inspired by a novel of Misha Glenny. It's a dramatic exposée of the power struggle between different Russian criminal clans. and how this impacts upon the personal life of a second generation British banker of Russian parentage. It's a stylish portrayal of the lifestyle of the super-rich after the manner of the film of Le Carre's 'The Night Manager'. It's complex and a little slow moving, which makes me wonder if it's making sense to me. Early days, however.

Today was another 'quiet as a Sunday' sort of day, being a second Swiss public holiday in a row. It walked into town to see if anything was open, and found several restaurants, cafés and convenience stores were open, not that I needed anything, as I'd stocked up before the weekend. I walked up into the old time, and discovered several old streets and alleys I hadn't found before. I walked back past the ancient Parish Church of St Vincent Veytaux, and took another photo of it with the vineyard in the foreground, now in winter wear, denuded of leaves. The church was open, and the sanctuary was host to an unusual nativity scene.

The figures were cardboard cut-outs, which had been minimally decorated by a local artist who had also written an interpretation of the intended symbolism of the scene from his viewpoint which was displayed alongside the nativity scene in the spacious sanctuary of the church. In common with many other reformed mediaeval church buildings there's almost no furnishing in the chancel and sanctuary, just a simple Communion Table at the entrance. The simplicity of the space is enhanced by stained glass window light. It's a delightful building, with a timeless feel to it, and it's such a contrast to the glitzy cosmopolitan streets down below on the lakeside.

Later, I watched episode two of McMafia. I'm still not sure I've got a grip on the plot-lines, or if I'll have the patience to watch the third episode on Sunday next.