Another wedding blessing, and a new novel

Yesterday we took Rhiannon to the Chateau de Chillon. I was glad for another photo opportunity with a better camera. Back in January I took a camera but forgot to reload the memory card, so I had to use my Blackberry Q10, whose photos aren't nearly as good. It's such an interesting place. Clare and I were interested to observe how Rhiannon naturally gravitated to the interactive video screens telling aspects of the castle's story, rather than the wall and panel displays. A child of her era I suppose. We ate a late snack lunch on the terrace outside afterwards, and were amazed to see scores of tame sparrows chasing crumbs, and even occasionally trying boldly to snatch food from a person's hand. I enjoyed the walk, but it left me feeling uncomfortable and tired, so for the rest of the day, and most of today, I've been confined to the house, and managing my still draining wound.

I had to conserve energy to ensure I could carry out today's wedding blessing. It took me quite a while to make the final preparations, as I'd not really felt well enough to knuckle down and do the necessaries earlier in the week. In fact, I had to concentrate on making sure all the pieces of music I had downloaded and edited for the service would work. This proved to be a nightmare, because the wretched Google music app, and any app interface layered on top of it, refused to work with home made MP3s created using Audacity on a Windows machine. In contrast to last Saturday's wedding blessing, there were just fifteen people with the bride and groom. This made it relaxed and informal, so it was easy for me to officiant and be a digital deejay.

I don't know why an MP3 file should play on several devices and but not on every equivalent device, but I hate Google for this inconsistency. Their original 'don't be evil' policy no longer operates. Thankfully, I was able to get every type of file to play on my tablet, perhaps because its operating system is less up to date. It's hard to play music offline, now that's become the default for so many devices, and I couldn't risk staying online and streaming in an environment with a flaky connection. I succeeded, however and was able to relay music from the table to an old hifi system which sits in the church, redundant. Nobody thinks it works, but I succeeded in using it!

I knew I wouldn't feel like doing much except rest after the wedding, so Clare and Rhiannon went to Vevey on the paddle steamer without me. It was cool and overcast, but thankfully, it didn't rain, so they were able to enjoy the street market and visit the Nestle food museum, before returning with a generous supply of chocolate to take home.

Once I'd completed my sermon for tomorrow, I started to read Paula Hawkins' novel 'Girl on the Train'. It's very dense with intimate detail, drawing you right into the claustrophobic routine of suburban domestic life, too dense for my taste - although the detailed and intimate first person portrayal of an unemployed female alcoholic's domestic life offers an excellent study for anyone interested in addictive behaviour. All in all, it's an impressive portrayal of people whose lives are ruled by the lies they tell about themselves and to themselves.
   

Chateau de Chillon - an unsatisfactory photo-opportunity

A glorious sunny day, and a morning walk to the Chateau de Chillon for a look around the interior, just CHF10.50 for oldies and a ticket that allows you to come can go as often as you like during the day. It's a marvellous building, set on a rock outcrop protruding into Lac Leman. Traces of Bronze age settlements have been found among the foundations of the 12th century castle keep. It was an outpost of the Dukedom of Savoy at the outset, taken over by the warlords of the Canton de Berne at time of the reformation,  and taken over by the Canton de Vaud in 1798. In each period it was added to or adapted, and its component buildings have had many uses apart from military, as residences or government offices, storehouses, even the Vaudois Cantonal prison. 

Since the 13th century its vaulted vaulted cellar has been used to store barrels of wine harvested from the nearby Clos de Chillon vineyards which belong to the Chateau. You can buy bottles of both red and white at high prices. It's a rarity, and all profits made on the wine go to the restoration and maintenance of the Chateau undertaken by the Fondacion du Chateau de Chillon.  

It's twenty five years since we last visited. At that time, not all the rooms were open due to ongoing restoration work. Now, nearly all the rooms are open to the public, many are arrayed with period style furniture, walls and ceilings authentically decorated. Each room has interpretation panels and educative models to give an impression of people's way of life many centuries ago. It's one of the most visited castles in Switzerland, and I guess we were fortunate not to be herded around the place along with busloads of global tourists on a sunny winter low season day. A delightful experience.

The one setback was turning up with a camera lacking its SD memory card. Only yesterday had I finally filled a 16GB card, in use since 9th September 2016, over 2350 photos, and not all of them worth keeping, but such a hassle to separate the dross from the keepers. I had planned to go into town and buy a new card before going to the Chateau de Chillon, but as the weather was so good we seized the opportunity. 

Having removed the full card from the camera, I then forgot about buying a replacement. Just last week, the spare SD card I carry in my wallet for emergencies since running out on the Rhine Cruise last May, was pressed into use with my new Alpha 68 DSLR camera, and I'd not yet got around to replacing it. I had to use the BlackBerry's phone camera instead, once the HX50's internal flash memory had run out - just six photos. The results were adequate, just. It's not as good as the Samsung Galaxy S3 phone camera, I left re-charging in Church House along with the Alpha 68. You don't always live and learn in my experience. Serves me right. The Chateau is well worth a visit, and I may find time to return, better provisioned.

We returned for lunch and then walked into town to buy train tickets for tomorrow's airport journey, for Clare, who has to return to teach on Thursday , all too soon for the both of us. I needed to buy another SD card as well. I should have bought two, but didn't as I thought they were rather expensive. They are much cheaper on-line, naturally, and when I checked, Curry's are retailing them at roughly the same price in Sterling, so later, I regretted not buying a second. Ah well another day, maybe.

  

Epiphany Sunday feast and an unexpected visitor

There were only two down people present for the Epiphany Sunday Sung Eucharist, and almost all of them came into Church House afterwards for mulled wine and mince pies. Mulled wine was my task. I'd bought some cartons of Spanish Jumilla, as it's good and fruity, and I know it's made use of for gluhwein in parts of Germany. Mixed with about a third jus de pomme, with honey and Clare's spice bags, it turned out well, and was heaty enough in taste not to need fortification with cognac, like the mincemeat. Several people brought food contributions, a pizza, savoury pastries, even an entire Christmas cake left untouched from Christmas festivities. 

While we were getting ourselves organised, several people set to and un-decorated the tree, and put away the Christmas candelabra brackets and other accoutrements which had made the church look so good and seasonally welcoming. Then we had an enjoyable hour of relaxed eating and chatting, with just enough food and wine to go around.

While we were together, we were joined by a young woman who called herself Natalya, born in Russia, raised n France, estranged from her parents since she left home. I think she came into church during or after the service, and then came into the house after the others. She said she was an artist, trying to earn a living from her work. She'd lost whatever job and accommodation she'd had, and had spent several months 'couch surfing' as it's called today, but had been told that she couldn't stay any longer and didn't know what to do next. 

She didn't appear unkempt, like a rough sleeper, but all her possessions fitted into a rucksack and a cloth bag. She was hungry and tired, and grateful for an offer of food and drink. She talked to me and the churchwardens in turn non stop for another half an hour after our guests had left. More than anything she was isolated and lonely, I suspect.

Finding a place for her to stay on a Sunday evening in January was bound to be difficult. She had a French passport but no work permit, therefore no entitlement to social services in Switzerland. Not that there aren't places that'll take in people sans-papiers as they call it around here, but places that do are not quite the kind of places you'd willingly send a vulnerable young woman, who may have had mental health issues or complex life problems, as well as no visible means of support. 

Several enquiries drew the same conclusion, there wasn't a way to find her the kind of help she may need on a Sunday afternoon. After a long conversation with Neil, he took her to his family's ski chalet in the Alpes Vaudois to fend for herself in safety and security for a few days, to afford her an opportunity to work out exactly what she wants to do hereafter. Not the best solution, maybe, as there'd be nobody to keep an eye on her regularly, in case she had other needs. She seems, however, to be a survivor, used to coping on her own. Let's just hope this respite is enough to enable her to look a little further ahead in her life than the evening of each day.

Once everyone had left us, there was still enough daylight time left to go for a walk, so we headed along the lakeside path to the Chateau de Chillon and arrived just as it was closing, so we vowed we would return on the morrow, and walked on as far as the Villenuve lakeside piscine publique, before

turning around. We arrived back at Church House just as the lights of evening began to shine.

Later, another episode of McMafia on BBC One. Still more elegantly delivered nastiness. Not sure if this all adds up to anything to learn from, or is just another filmic outing into the realm of posh melodrama with a Russian accent. Give me gritty sordid 'Spiral' any day.

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.

Another summer Saturday

 A day to complete sermon preparation and get myself ready for tomorrow's Christening at Villars. Also a day to go to Lidl's in Villeneuve for some weekend food shopping, while Clare went into Montreux for some retail therapy. Heavens, it was crowded in Lidl's, with families stocking up for trips to a favourite lakeside or mountain picnic places. The queues were long and slow because of the volume of of purchased being made. There's no fast track system for people with less than ten items to check out here. Migros and COOP, both have hi-tech scanning devices you can take around with your shopping trolley, and make fast track payments at a special electronic till. I must take time to try the system one of these days.

After lunch, we walked to the little beach by Chateau de Chillon, so that Clare could swim. It was crowded with families and groups of teenagers recovering from their first week back at school. Due to the amount of picnickers, the clear grassy areas above the beach were periodically invaded by a score of sparrows, a few related families I suspect, whose home is in bushes nearby. It was a lovely sight, as they were very tame, used to foraging for and fighting over discarded morsels of crisps. I daren't imagine what impact crisps have on their natural diet. Yet, there seem to be plenty of them.

Tonight, another episode of Inspector Montalbano, all about the different Mafia clans' efforts to run the Sicilian construction industry together, entirely in their own interests. It was complex story of criminal ingenuity, but the outcome was, as ever, that there's no honour among thieves, and the trail of victims, known and unknown, is everlastingly long.

  

Montalbano returns

This morning was spent writing a sermon for tomorrow on my Chromebook, and then transferring it to the church computer, a Lenovo laptop, for printing. It's the first time I'd powered up the latter, and a pleasant surprise to find it was completely up to date and working as intended. This is rarely the case with laptops I've encountered on locum duties. They may work, just, but need updating if a previous locum hasn't used it at all. It is, after all, an optional tool to use, and some don't bother.

As there's a boulangerie but no food shops here in Territet, we walked to Montreux to get some fruit and veg before lunch.  Clare said that she'd found an Italian specialist store which looked as if it was a small wholesalers, open on weekdays, but a notice said that clients should ring for a Saturday rendezous. She asked a neighbour about this store, and was told - "It's bizarre, having to telephone to buy a sausage."

After lunch we walked to the Chateau de Chillon along the lakeside path and found a small pebble beach where Clare could swim. She was delighted to report that the water inshore was warmer than that of the Mediterranean in Malaga, where she swam a month ago.

In the evening on BBC Four, I watched the newest episode of Inspector Montalbano starring Luca Zingaretti, and other key actors from the earlier series. It was the 27th episode to be broadcast over a 17 year time span. This is the first new one in three years. It's interesting to observe how the characters morph into middle age. The technology used has changed, but the townscape portrayed is, as it ever was, suspended in time, somewhere between the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Not for the first time, the plot portrayed the complex lives of elderly people and their secrets. Yet again, it was a masterpiece of story telling as well as ingenious slightly dubious detective methodology. So glad not to be missing this series while I'm here.