State of Alarm - day Seventy Eight

Cooler today, thought humid, clouds and wind, rumbles of thunder and a sudden cloudburst in the afternoon. Such a contrast to the clear skies of the past few days.

Rosie came by in the morning to collect the chaplaincy mobile phone for SIM upgrading, and brought bags of freshly picked apricots for Anthony and I.

With Anthony's help, recording the Isaiah passage for Sunday, and Clare recording another, I had all the components of the Trinity Sunday 1662 Communion service to edit and complete the job a lot earlier than usual. I'm not sure why, but my workflow seems to have improved this past few weeks despite encroaching illness.

I cooked lunch for the two of us - fish, ratatouille and spaghetti. Afterwards, I collected the water containers for a refill run to St Josep, but after the cloudburst I decided not to go, and went for a walk instead, enjoying the fresh scent of the countryside after rain. After a couple of kilometers, I turned back, having left without carrying a phone. Not a good idea. It didn't rain properly again, but enough raindrops fell for an hour or so to give the impression that it was about to start again, so I did my lock-down circuit walk around the house instead, so I could quickly dash for shelter.

I found it had quite a calming effect walking the same uneventful predictable path over and over again. Heaven knows I need that, as the shadow of anxiety lurks behind the slightest discomfort. The swelling is still there close ot the wound but not painful. Tomorrow I'll rendezvous with Jane at the Urgencias in Sant Antoni, and have a doctor check it out. I may need more antibiotics.

Low Sunday blues

I woke up early and went to the eight o'clock Communion service at St Nicholas' Parish Church. I sat outside beforehand, on a park bench saying Morning Prayer from my phone. I'd have felt rather self-conscious fiddling with my phone in church, where it's customary good manners to switch off and attend to God without digital support.

Much to my surprise, the 1662 Book of Common Prayer liturgy has been supplanted by a select Easter booklet derived from the CofE Common Worship prayer book data store. A youthful looking retired priest five years or so older than me took the service and preached an excellent resurrection homily. I couldn't help but notice that congregational numbers are now down to twenty, having been thirty plus on previous visits. There can be a variety reasons for this, including a changing profile for the church going constituency with perhaps fewer older traditionalists attending. Older people may stop getting up so early, and move to the main service of the day, whether they like modern liturgy or not. Still, in this heartland parish of protestant middle England, I sincerely hope that use of the 1662 BCP hasn't entirely been abandoned.

Apart from me, everyone got up late. We had a late breakfast, and then after a good walk through Abbey FIelds and around Kenilworth Castle and back, lunch mid-afternoon, before parting company and heading down the M40 to Beaconsfield, for a night in a Travelodge hotel prior to the Memorial Service for a friend from Geneva days, John Meredith. He died last summer, six months after losing his wife Elizabeth. It's been lovely to get away, as we have done, but how tiring these days we find both the displacement and the effort.

Surprisingly, wi-fi had to be paid for in the hotel, but the phone signal was good enough for this not to be necessary. I leave mobile data on these days, and find I rarely if ever exhaust my rather meager weekly allowance, since I don't need to stream music or video. The room had a telly, we we were able to watch tonight's episode of 'Line of Duty', and be kept guessing for another week about the identity of the most corrupt cops of all - although I bet there are some corrupt politicos involved in all this as well.

    

Reading, recuperating

There were three of us and a child for the midweek Eucharist again this morning. I spent most of the day in the house despite the weather, resting, recovering. It's slow. I have to be patient with myself. In the post was a facture for lab tests on a tissue sample taken from me, presumably to confirm what Mr Cotton diagnosed. I rang him to check if there was a report to be added to the one already given to my GP, but we got cut off in mid conversation. I was reluctant to call again in case there was a medical emergency at the other end, and emailed the surgery instead.

I took the bus into town and back to do some shopping, rather than walk as I usually do. My energy levels are reasonably good, but am cautious about over-exercising while the wound is still draining, albeit now very slowly. Having finished reading 'Girl on the Train', I'm now reading a Swedish novel written as a sequel to the late Stieg Larsson's Millennium Trilogy about modern cyber-crime, by the novelist David Lagerkranz, with the same theme employing two key characters from the original series - genius hacker Lisbeth Salander 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' and investigative journalist Mikkel Bloomquist. It's called 'The Girl in the Spider's Web'. A bit slow starting, but so far so good.

I recent years, my reading has been largely confined to on-line articles and news. To have time to be be reading novels again is unusual. It's something I attribute largely to there being so little attracting my interest on TV, despite being able to get over half a dozen UK TV channels. No chance of catch up, or box set watching out here.

Early service at Kenilworth

I was awake at seven, and out of the house to attend the BCP celebration of Holy Communion with two dozen others at St Nicholas' Parish Church, before everyone else got up. A retired cleric, rather than the Vicar took the service, and told us that he was volunteering to cover the eight o'clock first Sundays of the month from now on. I don't think there's a Curate at the moment. 

There's nothing quite like a BCP early service in a 15th century church with sunlight streaming in, birdsong in the background in Shakespeare's County, heart of Established Protestant England. Despite changes in appearance of the building and congregation, I get that special feeling, of time standing still. Maybe that's why it's relatively well attended. Eight o'clocks are not as well attended in Wales, apart from Cathedrals and Minster churches. In Canton Benefice the early congregation is usually half the size.

After breakfast, a walk into town for some shopping at Waitrose then lunch, before setting off back to Cardiff late afternoon. We got back just as The Archers was finishing on the radio. An enjoyable few days away, and a pleasure to be on the receiving end again, in the congregation on a Sunday.

Final day in Territet

I woke up early this morning, and when I got out of bed found I had difficulty straightening up due to a sharp pain in the vertebrae at waist level. I'd slept awkwardly and not realised it. It's been with me all day, and I had to be unusually careful and deliberate in moving during the celebration of the 1662 BCP midweek Holy Communion service. Today we were five adults, one small child, and two dogs. We mused about the possibility of having a special column for dog attendees in the church register of services. After this, we said our farewells, and I took my alb into the house to pack in my suitcase. Then I set about writing and sending an end-of-stay report to Archdeacon Adele and Jean in the diocesan office. Another assignment comes to an end, so enjoyable because of reunions with old Geneva friends. Leaving for my plane early tomorrow morning isn't going to be easy with this creaky back of mine.

I've had to be careful through the day, with packing, cleaning, tidying and shopping, though it's not so bad when I'm walking. I walked into town to shop to buy some domestic items to replace those we'd used, then later walked to Chateau de Chillon, as the sun was heading towards the horizon. The colours of autumn are gently revealing themselves, as apart from the occasional day of rain, there have been no spells of chill wind or frost to accelerate the process. Most of the snow on the alpine peaks has receded to higher levels. There's no sign of the lakeside grape harvest starting any time soon. The high sided trailers and tankers going along the main road towards Villeneuve are destined for vineyards much further up the Rhone Valley, I think.

Now, with the bins emptied and everything in the kitchen tidied away in its proper place, it's time to get to bed, early enough that it won't matter if I have a restless night.