A musical nation

Clouds and drizzle this morning, and it's ten degrees cooler than yesterday. When I went down to breakfast I was surprised to find that instead of Saturday pancakes, Clare had cooked waffles to a vegan recipe for a change. They were delicious, and destined to become a firm favourite, I think.

Later, we went for a walk through Bute Park and had a snack lunch at the Secret Garden cafe. Thankfully the drizzle held off, so we didn't get wet. There was a man with a lively dog in the cafe. The hound was dragging a large stick of dead wood around, which made a conspicuous noise when dropped. It stood by the doorway, occasionally picking up and dropping the stick. Then it would take a few steps back, looking eagerly for a response from its master, absorbed in his phone and drinking coffee. This attention seeking behaviour was reproduced at least half a dozen times in ten minutes, each time the hound took a few steps nearer until it reached its master's feet and started whimpering to get attention. An impressive fear of persistent nagging, even though it fell on deaf ears!

The cloud cover remained low, and though it threatened to rain again after morning showers, it didn't. We then went to the summer fayre in St Catherine's church grounds. All the usual stalls and activities, were there and the place was busy with a steady stream of visitors. An event that's a credit to the congregation. We had some strawberries without cream, and a go on the bottle staff. Clare won a can of coffee flavoured stout branded by Guinness. Neither of us fancied it, so I surreptitiously returned it for someone else to win and then won a can of quite strong IPA, but no lucky wine wins this time. I did buy a jar of plum jam and a fresh one of churchyard blackcurrant jam to replace the one I'm slowly savouring at the moment from last autumn's fayre. You can't have enough blackcurrant jam, in my estimation!

Clare then went down to the Castle for the annual Tafwyl festival, featuring some top Welsh language singers, including singer songwriter Meinyr Gwilym of whom she's a fan. I went home, and cooked us a pasta meal using the butter beans Clare cooked yesterday. I was pleased with the result, and only needed to cook the pasta when Clare arrived home after the performance. After supper we watched on S4C this year's Welsh national youth choir competition. There were some stunning performances from choirs up to fifty strong. Such vital energy, discipline, enthusiasm and musicianship. One of the judges, an Italian musical maestro I think, speaking in English, praised the uniqueness of Wales' choral music culture. All this with Sir Tom Jones and the Stereophonics singing tonight at the Principality Stadium. "Praise the Lord, we are a musical nation", as the Reverend Eli Jenkins said in Dylan Thomas' Under Milk Wood.

We have the first of three Inspector Montalbano episodes on BBC Four over the next fortnight. The first two are re-runs of the last available episodes. The third is the last ever Montalbano story, of the thirty six. It was made into a movie after the death of his creator Antonio Camillieri, who wouldn't let it be published while he was alive. That way the authentic character dies with him. A unique inimitable body of work. The mixture of sadness and humour, with vignettes exposing the poverty and corruption which still plague Sicilian life is portrayed in a most thought provoking way. The wait to see how it all ends for Montalbano will not be easy - like waiting for a friend to die. The story teller who can generate such a bond between his characters and audience is a true maestro with words.

Tap improvement

When I surfaced from sleep, Clare was awake and up cooking pancakes about half past six this morning. It turned out that she'd mis-read the clock. It didn't matter as she wanted to breakfast over earlier than usual for a Saturday since a plumber was arriving at nine thirty to install the new mixer tap for the kitchen sink. 

We made a good choice of tap and plumber as he fixed an error made when the original was installed that we've lived with for the past eleven years. Now at last we have the hot tap on the left and the cold on the right, as they are in every other sink in the house. Such a small change, but what an immediate difference it makes to the feel of working at the kitchen sink. While the plumber did the job, I recorded the audio for next Thursday upstairs, then added a slideshow and uploaded the video to YouTube before cooking lunch.

The rain stopped in the afternoon, so we took a muddy walk through Bute Park woods and had a coffee at the Secret Garden Café on the way back. The river Taff has risen up to cover the fish ladder again as it last did on New Year's Eve. It's rained most days since then, for hours at a time day and night. The Fields are getting waterlogged again, but I doubt if they will flood again back in February 2020, as the river bed and banks underwent a drastic surplus vegetation clearance operation to ensure unimpeded flow. The river runs much faster when in full spate these days. Let's hope it stays that way.

Nothing much of interest on telly this evening. On Four the thirty-sixth and last episode of 'Inspector Montalbano' available on iPlayer is being shown again in the Saturday Euro-crimmie slot. I think this is for the fourth time in two years. It's good, but I don't want to watch it again. There is a thirty-seventh episode, aired in Italian in 2021, but it hasn't yet been produced for a British audience. We're still waiting. All there is to do this evening is complete and print tomorrow's Epiphany sermon, and turn in.

Sombre times

It was ten o'clock on a sunny morning by the time we sat down to our Saturday pancake breakfast, having slept even longer than usual after last night's operatic uplift. I did some DuoLingo exercises and then walked to Tesco's for exercise and a couple of bottles of wine before lunch. 

Just before I went out there was a phone call from the next of kin arranging next Tuesday's funeral. His niece is doing the eulogy. She lost her father a few days before lockdown last year. It was many weeks before he could be laid to rest in such constrained circumstances, so this will be a significant moment for her, and I think we'll be remembering and praying for her Dad as well as her Gran at this time for family mourning.

Clare made a delicious fava bean and vegetable stew with brown rice for lunch. We're both agreed that we now prefer brown rice to the white kind, perhaps because we've both mastered the art of cooking it perfectly.

Then I prepared and printed next Tuesday's funeral service. These days I'm getting into the habit of advance preparation and avoiding the pressure of doing things at the last minute. I used to be good at working under pressure but now I find it debilitating. An annoying factor of old age, I'm afraid.

We walked in the woods along the side of the Taff in Bute Park. The first autumn leaves are starting to carpet the ground with golden brown, very beautiful in the afternoon sun. We stopped for a drink with some cake at the Secret Garden Cafe. The cake was nice but far too rich for me and upset my stomch - probably dairy fats which I'm no longer used to.  

After supper, Clare watched young tennis virtuoso Emma Raducanu delight the country by winning the US Open championship. I wasn't in the mood for sporting emotions, having absorbed myself in watching the Eastern European crimmie 'The Pleasure Principle' on Walter Presents, on and off in the past week, and now reaching the conclusion with a long binge watch. 

A complex tale spanning four countries, serial killings, a secret elite circle of abusers, police corruption and international arms smuggling, all touching upon each other, the murder investigation incidentally exposing the other crimes. The acting and character development were remarkably good. The pace was slow, but thoughtfully so. Somewhat different from the usual Western European offering.

Today is the 20th anniversary of the Twin Towers massacre in New York, cause for sombre reflection all around the world, but also questioning in the light of the USA's army withdrawal from Afghanistan in recent weeks, leaving the country in the hands of the Taliban again. Spy-catchers foresee more activity on the part of islamist terrorists in relation to soft targets in Western world cities. In the past few years there have been major shifts of power going on in geo-politics, and the pandemic. The world is not the same as it was twenty years ago, but terrorism like organised crime is as endemic as any deadly virus, and remain a cause for concern as serious as global warming.

Leap Year Day

The sunshine returned this morning, but the cold biting wind still persists. After a tasty breakfast of veegan recipe pancakes, I walked to Blackweir Bridge again to see if the Taff had burst its banks in the night, having heard that the river Ely had done. The Taff had indeed burst its banks in the night and floodwater had collected in the field area below the first dyke, but was already draining away. 

The river was still high, lapping the footpath, but it had already dropped by a foot judging by the level of wetness on the concrete pier of the bridge, not yet dried out. The volume and speed of the water flow was truly impressive, seen close up. Last weekend I hadn't been able to walk all the way to the riverbank because of the extent of the footpath flooding. Today it was only a matter of a ten foot stream of water flowing across the path from north to south on the lower level. Last week the footpath on upper as well as lower level was inundated for several dozen yards.

Later, Clare and I returned, crossed over the river and walked through Bute Park, footpaths and grass areas still flooded near the Castle, disrupting walkers and cyclists yet looking lovely and tranquil in the bright sunlight. We had lunch in the Secret Garden cafe, enjoying a very tasty squash and lentil soup. Everything used and sold in the cafe consists of locally sourced organic products, a real little showcase for the Welsh food industry, and a credit to the park estate. 

We continued into town and went to John Lewis' in search of a new Kindle for Clare. We learned that the store no longer sells Amazon products. I guess Amazon has taken away a lot of their trade, so why give its products retail space? They had a few Fire tablets in the stockroom, and we bought one, albeit at the same price as we could have bought it in Currys. Then we realised that the device hardware had a back-lit screen not the front-lit display Clare was hoping to have once again, so we returned it before leaving the store, went to Currys and bought a Paperwhite Kindle there. Much mote expensive, but it fits the bill, and even the existing protective cover, as it's the same size as the old one.

It was early evening by the time I got around to writing and completing my sermon for tomorrow, late in the week for me, but I've had other things on my mind. All done and printed out in time to watch the third episode of the Cymru Noir crimmie 'Hidden' - very sinister and creepy. I shall miss the rest, as iPlayer doesn't work abroad, unless you use a VPN link, which I won't.

  

Blackberry time

Thursday and Friday, back to routine sessions at the CBS office, adding incident reports and images to the RadioNet users' crime data secure intranet site. I'm still mastering the technique for doing this, as I don't find it as user friendly as it needs to be for my learning need and success, so my memory of routine tasks tends to fade in between sessions. I may not be as quick to retain things as I used to be, but it might be that a few programming tweaks would - improve site usability significantly. I make brief notes about problems as I go along, but have to re-state with unequivocal clarity what needs to be addressed, so that a memo to the database developers makes sense. Not an easy task if you're unsure you're using the technical terms correctly.

Clare and I went hunting for a new light fitting for our front room on Friday morning, and then got in touch with our friendly electrician Spiro to come around a fit it for us. After a few minutes of consultation, he and Clare agreed it wasn't the right one, so on Saturday morning we took it back and went hunting for another, with our eyes a little more aware second time around of what would and wouldn't work in that space. This time, I think we have something better suited. I wonder what Spiro will think, when he next comes around?

After lunch, we went for our default Saturday afternoon stroll along the Taff through Bute Park for tea at the Secret Garden Cafe. On the way we noticed the first crop of blackberries were ripe enough to collect.

 Thanks to the fact that Clare had a spare plastic bag with her, we collected a kilo between us, and partook of the firstfruits with glad and thankful hearts. Not only blackberries stewed with just a little honey, but also an exquisite mix of blackberries and Victoria plums stewed with a little honey and cinnamon. That'll be fantastic crowned with a crumble mixture for Sunday dinner.
     

Summer in the Park

Thursday, Mioara, a colleague of Clare's came to stay for a couple of nights, interviewing for a job at the school. Our conversations over meals were fascinating as she came from Romania where she'd studied languages and then come to the UK to do a Steiner teacher training and eurythmy formation course after the fall of the Ceaușescu regime in 1989. As with other totalitarian states Rudolf Steiner's thinking was banned in Romania, yet the ideas persisted clandestinely for a new generation to discover, and were there until freedom arrived to practice educational alternatives.

Yesterday afternoon, our old friends Marion and Oswald came and joined us for afternoon tea, and a catch up session of news. How good it is to have time to relax and enjoy company. Between us, we seem to have a lot to do, so it's not as easy as it should be. 

This afternoon we walked our circuit of Llandaff Fields and Bute Park. There were lots of people out paddling or bathing in the river. How wonderful that it's clean enough to do so these days. I took photos of young boys and girls jumping off Blackweir bridge into the pool of water below deep enough to be safe. It's bound not to be permitted by the Council, but it's impossible to stop. There aren't enough park rangers let alone police officers to spoil the fun on a hot day. Pictures can be found here

We had a drink in Bute Park's 'Secret Garden' cafe, part of the horticultural nursery, which is used also as an education center. Then we tried out all latest recreational additions in among the trees - a mix of 'trim track' and adventure trail furniture - constructed from natural materials, offering a few balancing act challenges along suspended logs and ropes close to the ground. Great for little 'uns, but not so easy for someone my size, as I discovered when I tried, wearing sandals and carrying my camera rucksack. Must have a try barefoot next time.