Lost and found

I left Owain and the girls to enjoy the sunshine and a walk in the park before lunch, and drove over to St German's to celebrate Mass. Everyone I spoke to there is delighted at the prospect of a priest appointed for the Ministry Area to be based at St German's. This won't happen until the autumn. Fr Stewart has already booked me for locum duties until the end of September. Then, for the fourth time in my relationship with the church over ten years, I'll be able to step back, having worked myself out of a job. For me, that's quite a satisfying position to be in. 

What else there'll be for me to do after that remains to be seen. It may be that I'll be able to do much less. I'm having to take on more of the domestic tasks these days to support Clare and enable her to carry on doing things she loves, while she can. Another really long locum spell abroad seems unlikely, and I have stated my limitations for accepting future invitations. It's quite possible no more euro-locum duties will come my way, but I'm thankful for all that I have been able to do in the past ten years. There are so many twists and turns in life, unforeseen set-backs, surprise blessings and encounters.

I skipped coffee time after Mass and drove straight home for lunch. When I reached the front door, I realised I couldn't find my front door keys. I thought I may have left them on the sacristy desk at St German's or dropped them by the car. I had a panic, and contacted Peter and then Angela, who was kind enough to drop by church and check. Thankfully there was no sign in either place so they had to be in the house somewhere. We searched from top to bottom three times and found nothing. I didn't feel like eating, and had a rest instead. 

Later in the afternoon when a drive to Penarth was proposed, when we were leaving the house, Clare discovered both her house keys and mine in her bag! Then I remembered  I'd left the house, and then returned, realising I'd forgotten my best reading glasses, and on the way out left them in the door. While I was out Clare Jasmine and Owain went out of the house and he found my keys in the lock, but Clare assumed she'd done the same thing as me, going out then returning and not removing the keys. It's easy to get distracted when doing non routine things, we find as we get older.

Penarth was as busy as expected on the summer weekend. We drove one circuit of the seafront without finding a parking place, and then on the second circuit found one right in the middle section of the main promenade. We did the usual things, a drink and photo shoot on the pier, then a walk half way along the clifftop, before heading back home so that Owain could collect his bag and go for a return bus to Bristol. After supper, Jasmine and I walked down to Blackweir, and were delighted to one mallard family with five chicks four weeks old, and two more families, one with six chicks, the other with nine, foraging on the Bute Park side of the weir. These two groups of chicks were only about two weeks old. A delightful sight!

We returned in time for the final of Cardiff Singer of the World, won this year by Adolfo Corrado, a statuesque Italian bass with a huge resonant voice, charming grin and sense of fun. He was the only male finalist. The four female finalists were also impressive. It can't have been an easy decision with such a high standard of accomplishment all round. I was delighted that voters in the international poll for the Audience prize went to the Colombian soprano Julieth Lozano Rolong, one of my favourites, doing a little dance while she was singing at one stage. She prefers to sing barefoot, and wore a ground sweeping flared gown to avoid drawing attention to this. The versatility of her song programme choices was also attractive. I hope more Latin American opera singers are encouraged by her to take part in future. The continent's operatic tradition has its distinctive characteristics and composers, as we'll here more about this autumn with the WNO performing Osvalido Golijov's opera 'Ainadamar' in Spanish.

Vesture questions

I enjoy warm summer nights. I sleep much more relaxed and don't wake up so often. Another bright sunny day with the temperature in the mid twenties. It does me good. After breakfast a walk to St Catherine's to celebrate the Eucharist with seven others, then to Chapter Arts to collect this week's veggie bag. Clare had already made a start on lunch by the time a got home. We listened to excerpts from the song recital competition from RWCMD on Radio Three while we ate. Then went out and did the grocery shopping at the Coop before going to my blood pressure monitoring appointment at the GP surgery.

I was shocked to find that I'd missed the appointment. It was meant to be yesterday at the same time. Did make an error entering this in my diary? Or did I mishear the receptionist, talking at me in a soft voice from behind a screen? I'm not aware of my hearing getting worse. I have no problem hearing birdsong in the park, though there are times at home when I think Clare is speaking softly in a low voice. Also I find that I'm sometimes painfully uncomfortable with high volume sounds. It's time to get my hearing checked out, I think. What an embarrassment. The surgery staff must think I'm losing the plot. Perhaps I am.

I had an exchange of emails with Rufus about promoting his future ministry as an independent celebrant of. We looked at  a range of websites advertising civil celebrants. Three quarters of them showcase female celebrants, full of maternal sympathy and composure, absolutely appropriate. It does beg the question of what does a masculine celebrant offer that's distinctive and attractive. 

For the best part of two millennia priesthood has been entrusted to men whose masculinity has been effaced by ritual garments. Traditional sacred disguise makes it possible for women, and masculine or effeminate men to occupy the celebrant's role without contention. In a secular environment this can be considered alienating. Dignified dresses and smart suits according to taste must play their part instead, but what messages are conveyed by apparel or for that matter body language? These critical issues aren't easy to address. The aim is to convey confidence and invite trust in the celebrant's ability to bring a rite of passage to life and make it meaningful. Lots to think about here.

A short walk in the park before supper, then the fourth round of Cardiff Singer of the World, with four more marvellous performances to listen to. The one that really grabbed our attention was a soprano from Colombia in South America, the first ever. What a brilliantly passionate performance. She danced as she sang on several occasions, completely in character for the role she was playing. Sadly she didn't win. Well, we guess three out of four winners correctly. Tomorrow night the song competition final.

 

Life with marvellous music added

I don't know what happened to the thunderstorms and sudden downpours predicted for yesterday, but they passed Cardiff by. Today is nearly as hot as the Costa del Sol, blue skies and sunny. Clare went out before me to an eye hospital appointment. After responding to a few messages, and doing some work on Rufus' business web presentation text, I drove to my dental appointment in Llandaff North, as I didn't fancy walking up the Taff Trail in the heat. Just as well too. The anaesthetic I was given before the filling was done left me feeling slightly odd and wobbly for an hour or so afterwards as the numbness wore off. Have I become more sensitive to a local anaesthetic since the last time, a couple of years ago?

I called into Lidl's near the surgery for a few items of shopping before heading for home and cooking lunch. Clare had an extra long wait for her consultation and returned just as I finished cooking everything except the veggie sausages. We ate our plates of veggies together, while her sausages cooked, and then ate our sausages separately as a second course. During lunch we listened excerpts from the first Cardiff Singer of the World song contest recital from the RWCMD. What a treat!

Then I had a bereavement visit to make out Fairwater, and caught the 61 bus which took me within ten minutes walk of my destination. Unfortunately Google Maps misdirected me to a different address from the one I sought directions for, navigating me to a street elsewhere where a random touch on the screen had 'dropped a pin' on the map (as Google calls it), which the AI bot interpreted unquestioningly as a change of destination. This added an extra five minutes to my walk, and much more annoyance and confusion. It's not as smart as it thinks it is.

Anyway, I ended up at the correct address, where I met the brother of the deceased who'd helped to care for her over most of their lifetimes, as she was disabled and vulnerable. Another lovely story of family making it possible for a person to live a supported life in the local community, and receiving boundless love and appreciation in return.

I returned on the 61 just as Plasmawr school students were leaving and congregating at the bus stop. The ride back to Pontcanna was very crowded indeed. Then back to work on Rufus' project, before and after supper.

Clare got back from her meditation group just in time for tonight's round of Cardiff Singer of the World. All the singers were impressive, yet again, but the clear winner was another South African soprano, and we thought the same as the jury, for the third time in a row. Wonderful music!

Musical day off

Another cloudy humid day, but fortunately not too hot. It was my first Sunday without a service to take this year. After a leisurely breakfast I prepared Sunday lunch, steamed veg and salmon as usual, ready for Clare to switch on in time for my return from church. She wasn't feeling too well, so decided to stay in bed and rest, rather than go to church. She has to go to Bristol for a study session this afternoon and wanted to be fresh enough to make the most of it.

I walked to Llandaff Cathedral, amid a host of dog walkers setting out to take their pets for exercise. If I'd got up earlier, I might have seen the jogging hosts of the Parkrun group out and about as well. Above and beyond the sound of excited barking dogs, the sound of bells ringing for the eleven o'clock Sung Eucharist. 

In church, a congregation of about eighty, plus forty singers and clergy and choir. Today's the Feast of St Barnabas, so the service was a celebration of his life and witness, with a sublime Mass setting and anthem by Stanford and well chosen hymns to sing. Canon Bruce Kinsey the Chaplain of Balliol College Oxford preached an excellent sermon drawing upon his familiarity with the Acts of the Apostles, where Barnabas features as a key figure in the mission of the very early Church. The reading of scripture was done well, and thoughtful intercessions offered by a senior lay member of the congregation. All in all a refreshing and uplifting experience of worship.

I greeted Dean Richard at the door afterwards and said "It doesn't get any better than that you know." He grinned and said "Yes I agree. I can't believe how fortunate I am to be here and part of this all the time." He's six months into the job. He couldn't escape knowing what an unhappy place it was, before and after covid, when he accepted the job. I hope he's treated better than his two predecessors were, and gets on with Bishop Mary. He told me there had been three hundred at the earlier Parish Eucharist, a hundred and fifty adults and a hundred and fifty children. It's good to hear attendance at that service is back to normal again catering for families with children in the Cathedral School, Llandaff Primary School and the Bishop of Llandaff High School.

Lunch was ready as anticipated when I arrived home from church. Once Clare's lift arrived to take her to Bristol, I went for a walk in the park. I was delighted to see, for the second Sunday afternoon in a row, a family picnic gathering of around sixty Muslims on the north Pontcanna Field - a group of thirty women and children sitting and chatting, while another group of men were standing around barbecue grills cooking lunch. On the south field, by way of contrast, two cricket teams with their tent pavilions, taking tea at the customary hour. It's lovely to see the parks so often well used. The only problem is takeaway food and drink packaging overwhelming the bins or dumped randomly, and horrible instant barbecue trays bought from supermarkets ruining the grass. Large social groups arrive to barbecue equipped with proper cooking equipment and set a good example, leaving the place tidy after their party.

Clare returned from Bristol in time for supper and 'The Archers'. Then we watched the first round of the fortieth 'BBC Cardiff Singer of the World' competition, broadcasted from St David's Hall. Four remarkable young singers performing with the Welsh National Opera orchestra. A feast of operatic arias. All four were accomplished and faultless, but one stood out, South African soprano Nombulelo Yende. Her elder sister Pretty is already a world class operatic soprano, singing at the King's coronation a month ago. An amazing musical family! She sets a very high standard to attain for the twelve singers yet to perform.

So good to have a day to relax and do nothing but enjoy listening.

Aberaeron arrival

We finished packing and loaded the car after our pancake breakfast and left for Aberaeron around midday. The roads weren't as busy as I'd expected and we did the journey along the M4 to Carmarthen, then north west into Ceredigion and much slower winding cross-country roads until we reached the coast near New Quay, then driving seven miles north to Aberaeron. It's a late 18th - early 19th century fishing port village, which saw early development as a coastal transport hub, with packet boats carrying mail and domestic goods between coastal towns before the advent of the railway line.

I remember passing through the town thirty five years ago on my way to Aberystwyth, when working for USPG. In those days most of the two centuries old buildings were the colour of the plain grey standstone of which they were made. Then the arrival of weatherproof colour paints on the domestic market let to a slow transformation of the town-scape just as happened in the Valleys after the demise of the coal industry. Now the facades are delightfully coloured in shades of blue, pink, yellow, and dark red, with the windows and their embellishments highlighted in white. Everywhere you look, the colours surprise and delight, set against the shades of green in surrounding woodland and fields.

We last visited here for a day trip while staying in a holiday cottage outside Cardigan in October 2008. It looked colourful even then, but continuing housing renovation has seen more brightly coloured facades grace the townscape. It's changed in another more significant way too, due to the pandemic. Restaurants and pubs which can have developed outdoor spaces for eating and drinking, some temporary but others looking as if they're here for the long term. This gives the streetscape a distinctly continental feel and it to my mind a real enhancement. Until the schools break up, it's not going to be frantically busy or crowded, beaches are empty, but outdoor hospitality venues have plenty of customers, mostly older people making the most of out-of-term holiday cottage bookings, like ours.

We're in an early nineteenth century grade two listed three storey terraced house with a loft conversion, divided into three apartments. Ours is up on the second floor with sea views through north and south facing windows, and the attic has a bedroom and bathroom with a north facing sea view. I don't think we realised it would be quite so amazing a place to stay. It's been beautifully modernised and decorated in sympathetic colours, with an overall maritime theme, and it's superbly equipped, lacking nothing on the domestic front, Mind you, there are two flights of stairs to the front door and another two up to the attic bedroom - extra fitness training, no gym needed here!

On one side we overlook the inner harbour, and there's a free first come first served car park on the quay opposite the house. It couldn't be better. Part of a car park is temporarily reserved for a beer garden and tent for the pub two doors down. It closes quite early, so noise is no problem. The streets were deserted by sunset. Sheer olde worlde bliss. What it'll be like in tourist high season is hard to imagine, and we won't be here to find out. It's just good to savour the moment.

Once unpacked we walked around to get our bearings, and I took my first batch of photos with my Sony Alpha 68 wide angled lens, to capture interesting views of the townscape. I'll revert to my cherished zoom lens tomorrow for a different range of views. After supper we watched the final of Cardiff Singer of the World. Five fantastic voices difficult to choose from, all destined already for top level operatic careers. 

It was Korean baritone Gihoon Kim who won, much to his own astonishment again as when he won his first round. He was the only man alongside four women also, of outstanding quality. The audience/viewers prizewinning choice went to Clare Barnett-Jones, the substitute competitor brought in at a day's notice to fill a gap caused by a covid quarantine drop-out. It seemed clear that all five performers were there having a good time, loving the opportunity to perform live with an orchestra again, without much concern about winning. After such a horrible year for performing artists this was the blessing they all longed for. 

After the programme I went for a walk along the shore path in the twilight, just for the pleasure of hearing the sea and feeling the mild scented breeze on my face. A perfect prelude to sweet sleep/

Demanding but nevertheless rewarding

I didn't sleep as deeply as I needed, perhaps wondering unconsciously how well I'd cope with a really busy day. First the Eucharist to celebrate at St Catherine's with eleven in the congregation, the taken by car to Pidgeon's chapel of rest for funeral number one, with burial in Llandaff Cathedral cemetery to follow. One of Pidgeon's drivers then took me over the 'The Res' for the second one. 

I needn't have been worried about delays in between. I arrived with three quarters of an hour to spare, time to get acquainted with the church layout and covid protocol, and get to know the verger and her husband, and the organist who sang a charming song version of the 23rd Psalm. The family had chosen two sixties pop songs as the only other music, but Jan told me Geraint the organist would be willing to sing a hymn from the organ console, so I asked and he was happy to oblige. He has a very nice voice.

After the interment in Western cemetery, I came home to a late lunch at a quarter to three, feeling very tired indeed. I had a rest before going out for a walk, but my legs felt like lead, and when I got back, I went to bed again and slept for an hour and a half, while Clare was listening to a WNO Friends Zoom presentation on the work of the company's costume designers and wig makers. I think it was interesting, but I couldn't fight sleep. By supper time I had enough energy restored to watch the evening's Lieder recital competition at Cardiff Singer of the World. 

Another glorious treat, this time in the concentrated form of storytelling through the medium of song, with five contestants singing in eight different languages not just English French German and Spanish, but also Welsh, Malagasy, Xhosa and Kosovan. It was the South African soprano Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha who captured the hearts of the jury, with deeply emotional singing expressed by a powerful flawless voice. She's also in the main competition finals on Saturday evening.

I guess that's the longest spell of intense concentrated activity I've had other than walking in a very long time. I felt like I'd swum a mile, or run ten. But at least, I didn't feel like that when I was officiating and didn't make any mistakes or lose my nerve at any stage. I need to think about doing some gentle fitness training to improve my overall bodily stamina. My legs are good and strong but the rest of me needs working on, now that my healing is progressing the way I've long hoped it would. 

Surprise gift

Couldn't help waking up thinking about my homecoming from Ibiza a year ago today. And in this year, two operations against the odds, given the enormous backlog for surgical attention as a result of the pandemic. It's nineteen days since the removal of the Seton's suture, and each passing day I notice minor improvements. The internal bruising is fading away and discomfort is minimal. The sense of freedom I experience is wonderful. I have so much to give thanks for.

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning with eight others, and then after lunch went up to 'The Res' to celebrate the Eucharist again for a congregation of a dozen, as Jan is away on leave this week. In the post, a book arrived for me from Jan's husband Peter, written by one of his PhD students Claire Gilbert. It called 'Miles to go before I sleep' The author is suffering from a form of blood cancer that is being tackled experimentally with stem cell therapy. It's not known if this will lead to a cure or if it will prolong her life. She writes to her friends about what she's learned from suffering, knowing she may not have much longer to live, and as it is, she lives in constant pain. Peter thought her writing would resonate with my experience. I look forward to reading it next week when we're relaxing in Aberaeron.

I finished recording and assembling the components of tomorrow's Morning Prayer video and uploaded the finished product to YouTube. Then I started work on next Thursdays video for St John's the Baptist's day, so that I can have that ready for publication next week. Our holiday cottage as wifi, we've been told.

Another glorious evening of singing in round four of 'Cardiff Singer of the World'. One of the singers, an Icelandic woman (for the first time) was obliged to drop out and self quarantine. With twenty four hours notice Claire Barnett Jones a mezzo soprano from Somerset was recruited to take her place, and despite strong competition from the other three singers, from Kosovo, Madagascar and another English mezzo soprano. Nevertheless she won, much to her own surprise. She has formidable voice, and she'll do well in Wagnerian roles in times to come. A marvellous evening.

Relaxation caution needed

So, the Prime Minister has called a halt to the relaxing of covid restrictions for another month because of the rise in India/Delta covid variant infections. A sensible move, while a massive effort is made to get all over 18s vaccinated before the final step of relaxation takes place. It's believed this measure will help limit the rise of new infections, hospital admissions and deaths. Let's hope so. 

After that 11-18 year olds will be targeted for vaccination in England. It's already happening here in Wales. Un-vaccinated younger people may well get a milder dose of covid and in general recover more quickly, but the intention is to curb symptomless transmission of the virus, as it has been discovered that the doubly vaccinated are significantly less likely to pass infection on if they are unfortunate enough to get a dose of the virus. Covid infection has proved to be a moving target this past year. Some politicians are now honest enough to acknowledge that it's not going to be possible to eliminate it, any more than we can eliminate 'flu or the common cold, as these too keep mutating from year to year. Controlling the scale of infection rather than eliminating it entirely is the best that can be hoped for.

Mid-morning, I walked to Pidgeon's for the funeral service in their chapel, with just three mourners. Friends of the couple who had been there for the husband's funeral three years ago are now too frail and vulnerable to attend, or else died since then. The burial took place in bright sunshine in the new section of Thornhill cemetery. I waited with the funeral attendants an extra twenty minutes in bright warm sunshine while the hearse and mourners made a detour past the family home in Rhiwbina. Were any of their neighbourhood contemporaries watching out for the hearse? I wondered. Or have they too passed on or moved away?

We had an early lunch and then I drove Clare over to the Heath Hospital for an eye appointment for the second time in two days. Yesterday's visit was in error. She'd put the wrong date in her diary. On my way home I drove down Whitchurch Road, looking for an outlet of the 'Cartridge World' printer ink supply chain. I couldn't find the shop, checked on my phone and discovered that none of the four shops there used to be in Cardiff are now open. There's just one main store/deport in Bridgend. Most annoyingly if you google it, the store address is 'Bridgend, Cardiff' twenty miles away, fifteen outside the city limit. How misleading!

Now everything is done by mail order. This may suit some users, but I hate it. I simply don't like shopping on-line as it takes much more time to find what you want out of a huge product inventory, pay for it, wait several days for delivery and then have to waste hours waiting for a delivery to arrive.

Clare had choir practice early evening, and that was when I went for my walk of the day, and listened to the Archers on my phone when I was on my way home.

Another marvellous heat of Cardiff Singer of the World this evening, with singers from the USA, Russia, South Korea and Austria with varied song programmes from each singer. It was an outstanding dramatic musical performance by Austrian soprano Cristina Gansch which commended her to the judges. It was followed by an hour of 'The Repair Shop', a delightful celebration of different kinds of craftsmanship and the restorer's art, marvellous to behold.

Homecoming remembered

Another lovely hot day with the temperature at around 25C again. I love the weather like this, and easily slip back into the habit adopted in Spain of keeping in the shade when the sun is hottest and brightest, to avoid getting burned. I'm brown enough already from spending so much time outdoors every day.

This morning I completed my preparation for Thursday's on-line Morning Prayer and Reflection, and went on to record and edit the sound file. All I need now is to match this with a handful of images, and put them together in a video upload to YouTube. It's getting easier now I've got the hang of it. I also got the material ready for tomorrow's funeral. I can't risk rushing anything at the moment. Wound discomfort is minimal, but in the morning the internal bruising plays up a bit and rattles my nervous system. It's a distraction that calls for more effort and less distraction to stay focused. Each day is less worse than the previous one so far, but I don't take chances, just in case there's a setback that makes normal activity an effort.

In my afternoon circuit of of Bute Park, Pontcanna and Llandaff Fields, I bumped into David, one of the mid-week regulars at St Catherine's whom I haven't seen since before I went to Ibiza. He's not felt ready to resume live worship, but follows on-line services. Recently he's had the second covid jab and is thinking that it'll give him confidence to return to church, which is nice to hear. 

Talking with him reminded me that it's exactly one year tomorrow since I started my journey home from Ibiza via Barcelona and London. What an extraordinary year it has been. I'll never forget walking out on Pontcanna Fields to stretch my legs after the car journey from Heathrow, and having a family of swallows sweep past me at knee level, hunting for insects. Funnily enough, I thought about this because it happened in the same part of the field where I'd just met David. What a lovely welcome home from nature that was!

In tonight's second round of 'Cardiff Singer of the World' we were treated to four powerful singers, a bass from Denmark, A Korean baritone, and two sopranos, one Welsh and one South African. It was hard to tell who the judges would declare the winner. All four promise to do well in their professional singing careers. It was was the Korean baritone Gihoon Kim who won, remarkable for having been born and raised in a poor provincial town, coming to classical music singing through his local church choir where his musical gifts were recognised. I daresay all four will be recruited for roles by WNO sometime in the future.

Following this was the last episode of the UK Photographer of the Year programme with Rankin hosting six very differently gifted photographers of different ages and experiences. It was great to watch and really challenged me to think again about the rather limited range of photos I take, albeit in abundance. I think I need to work a lot harder and take my beloved hobby much more seriously.

Socially distanced but superb singing

After breakfast, I went on my own to St Catherine's while Owain and Clare went for a walk in the park to enjoy the bright warm sunny morning instead. There were thirty of us at the Eucharist. On my way home I met Emma on her way to the Co-op and we chatted for a short while before she went hunting the shelves for something for lunch with an unexpected guest. She's really enjoying her interim ministry secondment to Fairwater, finding herself in an unusual situation there. 

With covid restrictions the church can only take 27 worshippers at a time, but the regular congregation is much more than that, so worshippers can only book to go to church fortnightly, and this involves a lot of extra organisation for the churchwardens. There's a monthly children's Eucharist on a Saturday, but numbers call for two separate celebrations, one every two weeks. Will parishioners easily get back into a weekly worship habit when this crisis is over I wonder?

After lunch in the garden, I walked up to Llandaff Weir. On the way there I went through the Cathedral Churchyard and heard singing within. The north east side entrance door was wide open so I put a mask on and popped my head in. The choir had just reached the Evensong Lord's Prayer and Responses. They were singing a familiar setting with gusto and it really moved me. After the Anthem, I walked around to the West door to watch the end of the service, then went in a chatted with Fr Mark, whom I haven't seen since last summer. Regular Cathedral Evensong, Sunday evenings and a weekday or two, are happening once more. It's such a blessing, and triumphant return to the Old Normal, albeit with a reduced socially distanced choir. It seems the Dean is still off work, so he and Canon Jan, our Area Dean, are carrying all the Cathedral services between them,  a heavy responsibility one way and another. 

This evening, the first round of the biennial 'Cardiff Singer of the World' on telly, a superb hour and a half of singing by the first four semi-finalists. It's taking place in St David's Hall again with a smaller orchestra and without an audience, but that didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the participants. Tonight's semi-final winner was mezzo soprano, Natalia Kutateladze from Georgia. The other singers were from Mongolia, Venezuela and China, all remarkable voices. 

And then, the second episode of disturbingly realistic prison drama 'Time'. Difficult watching. I wonder if this honest portrayal of life behind bars will spark new debate into British prison conditions.

A church on top form

Yesterday, I was pleased to receive an email from one of the Europe diocesan administrators Emma Biaggi, enquiring if I would be free to  take on locum duties in Ankara Turkey any time soon, as the Embassy chaplaincy is going to be without a priest. Archdeacon Adele had suggested my name, in the hope that I might now be fit enough for locum duty again. But alas not yet, I had to reply. But, it's so nice to be asked!

I received an appointment letter from Llandough hospital out-patients admin this morning to telling me that the one issued on April 1st for 19th September had been cancelled, to br replaced by one on 8th August. This year. No mention of what I was told on Wednesday last by the surgeon's secretary that I was soon to be examined as a day patient 'under anaesthetic'. Immediately, I wrote a letter to the surgeon reporting this, and asking what I can expect to happen next. She told me last time we met to ignore the 19th September booking - although not to cancel yet, just in case it was needed. 

My letter won't arrive before Tuesday next. Who knows? I may hear something different by Monday. Meanwhile, the wound continues to improve and is slowly closing. That doesn't make it any less comfortable, so I have to be vigilant whenever I go to sit down, or stay seated for any length of time. I've noticed that things are more difficult Thursdays to Sundays, for the simple reason that on these evenings, I am more likely to spend time sitting and watching telly. Having Cardiff Singer of the World on all week for many hours meant that I had either to lie down and listen from afar, or else be sure to get up and move around, or stand to listen instead. But, it's been worth it. Such a wonderful week of music! And all of it from Cardiff city centre. Very proud I am.

Clare cooked one of her delicious bara brith loaves to offer for the refreshments stall at St Catherine's summer fair. It was a marvellous community social event, attracting hundreds of people out on a sunny summer afternoon, with a full range of stalls selling toys, drinks, bric-a-brac raffle tickets, with a throwing wall in a safe corner for those wanting to smash plates or win a coconut. There was a full Punch and Judy show for the kids, with scores of little ones and their parents for an audience. I reckon that most of the regular congregation members were running a stall or helping with one. The church grounds were comfortably full the entire time, and early reports indicated that a large sum of money was raised for church funds. It was a real good news event in my opinion.

When I popped into in Tesco's later, I saw a man wearing a tee-shirt declaring 'Christianity is Stupid'. I thought of St Paul's saying: "The foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom." and was tempted to accost him and ask him what he made of Paul's statement. But then I thought, would he be able to make sense of this?

If his tee-shirt had read 'Brexit is stupid' he might have been attacked for this out on the street. If he wore one saying 'Islam is stupid', he might be liable to prosecution for hate crime. The fact is, Christianity is broad shouldered and tolerant in the face of its detractors, because it bears Good News about freedom, even freedom to reject and not believe when searching for meaning and truth in life. It has to be resilient, even in the face of hostility and persecution, or it ceases to be Good News for all humankind. Such an amazing mystery.

The Cardiff Singer of the World title final was broadcast in the evening, and I watched some of it. The very worthy winner was Ukrainian baritone Andrey Kimach. who distinguished himself in his performances earlier in the week, in a strong field of finalists, all worth listening to. The length of the programme meant that Inspector Montalbano was shown an hour later than usual. It was a rerun from an earlier series, with a convoluted plot, about Mafia corrupt monopolies in the construction industry. It benefited from a second viewing, even though I was quite tired by then.
  

The sound of music

After breakfast this morning the final BBC Reith Lecture delivered by recently retired Law Lord, Jonathan Sumption. What an amazing tour de force in evidence based reasoning, from a historian who headed the British Supreme Court! He spoke about the nature of Britain's unwritten constitution, about its uniqueness as a dynamic instrument of governance, which maintains Parliament and its power to make laws for lawyers to interpret and enforcers to implement, which has functioned for a thousand years, and proved flexible enough to permit legislation to continue evolving and adapting to emerging circumstances.

Every other country has a written constitution, as nation states have come into being through wars or revolutions, making it possible to write one from scratch, or borrow. The only near revolution Britain experienced was during the 17th century, when Monarchy was abolished and Parliament for a while exercised sovereign rule. It didn't last, but the compromised was reached that Britain should have a royal head of state, uniting all citizens, governed by Parliament in a unique way. It may look antique but it exists to serve the unity of all people, 'rightly and justly governed', as the Prayer Book says. It fits the bill uniquely for us, Sumption asserts, and  may be both better than other systems and worse in detail. Nothing is perfect. What we have is a fair compromise.

He cited the difference between UK and Spain in handling regional conflicts of interest. Spain has a written constitution which defines the relationship between the state and regions like Catalunya, Galicia, Andalucia. There have been serious continuing problems regarding devolution, and the local desires for independence. In contrast, because the nature of the Union in U.K. is historic and not well defined in law, it was possible to legislate for devolution of powers to regional parliaments in Wales Scotland and Ulster, once it was clear there was sufficient demand for this to happen. There's been no chronic conflict about this, just political campaigns and debate for the most part. Perhaps such decent compromise was possible due to the painful experience of the Irish independence struggle. Britain is on the best of terms with its nearest neighbour, which has a written constitution. We are learning how to live together with our differences, though not in every sphere, sadly.

Apart from this outstanding start to the day, another domestic routine Tuesday, with Clare at her study group, me cooking lunch, doing the main weekly grocery shop afterwards, before going for a late afternoon walk around Pontcanna Fields. I spotted a family of seven ducks swimming in close formation on the river Taff. The photos I took at the extreme limit of the HX90's zoom range weren't good. The light was poor because of thick cloud cover. The auto-focus seemed a bit fooled by this, and my hand wasn't steady enough for a good result, but the photos revealed this was a family of Mergansers, the parents with five almost fully grown chicks. I saw an adult pair without chicks only last week in this vicinity. The most commonly seen ducks hereabouts are Mallards, and while I may have seen a few Mergansers over the years, I haven;t noticed them breeding before. Fascinating.

Evenings this week, Cardiff Singer of the World is being broadcast on BBC 2. It's an international music event of the highest quality, featuring great young singers of opera, oratorio and lieder. Clare is glued to the tell for a couple of hours while it's on. I can't sit comfortably for that long at the moment, so retire to bed and read, and enjoy the sound of singing coming from the front room downstairs.

Funny, this reminds me of life as a small child, growing up in a family of keen amateur musicians and singers. On the weekends, the family would gather around Mum at the piano, and Dad on the 'Cello, and my sisters would sing. Sometimes aunts and uncles would come for tea and join in the music making afterwards. If I was poorly, or too tired, I'd go to bed and lie there awake listening to it it all. Sometimes, I'd get up and sit on the stairs outside the front room, listening until I was shivering with cold. This was in the fifties, before record players and radiograms became common household items. 

Clare and I made music with out kids when they were young despite having hi-fi, records and tapes. It's no wonder they've all grown up to be performing musicians. Rhiannon does her Grade Five flute exam next week, and Jasmine has been learning saxophone in school and guitar with Rachel. It gives me great pleasure to think that this is what they have inherited down three generations of family. 

Spring ends, Summer comes

The longest day, traditional beginning of Summer, warm enough for the fans to be running during the Almuñecár Eucharist, making enough background noise to encroach on the peace and quiet normally enjoyed at this relatively early morning celebration. A holiday making couple joined us. The husband said he'd been in Llandaff Cathedral Parish Choir when he was a boy. A lovely little link with home. At San Miguel later, we had Canadian, French and Norwegian visitors in the congregation. 

There was a Catholic locum priest in the sacristy when I arrived, from Antequera. We chatted briefly before our service began. He hung around discreetly while we worshipped. After half an hour of socialising at the Eucharist, I returned to the church to collect my new hat, forgotten, but still there on the sacrsity table. The priest was busy with a pre-lunch baptism service. I wondered what time he'd get to eat today.

When I got back to Church house I was incredibly tired, not so much physically but drained more in mind that body. I slumped in a chair for ages before getting a snack, and it was evening before I got around to cooking a proper meal. One intense day on top of another it seems saps me of more energy than I'm used to. At seventy, I've already learned to adjust my pace in everything I do, but it seems my reserves of energy fall short of expectation. Another lesson about ageing to be learned.

Last night, I watched the Cardiff Singer of the World Song contest, a marvellous experience. Tonight it's the grand final, with a terrific orchestra and huge enthusiastic support from audiences. To think this was all happening the other side of Working Street from St John's, all the time I was Vicar there, and I never found time to watch, or get audience tickets, my attention being focussed elsewhere. It's a superb celebration of musicianship. The emerging generation of young singers is every bit as marvellous as those who thrilled us before.