Cloudy with showers during the day, but clearing after dark to reveal the bright waxing moon nearly full. The noise of builders at work next door has ceased this week, and the scaffolding removed from the front. Looking out of the bedroom window this morning, I could see that the back garden makeover is complete. High wooden fences along neighbouring walls, white gravel in the side alley, a white tiled patio in front of the kitchen extension, and the remainder covered with an astro-turf lawn. The beautiful mature magnolia tree in the corner of the garden, flower beds and rose bushes were all destroyed before work on the attic conversion and kitchen extension began, replaced by a few large flower pots. We'll miss the tree and roses poking their heads about the trellis on our side of the wall. A sterile designer desert replaces a small refuge for birds, insects and other garden creatures. Incredibly sad.
After breakfast I had a long conversation on WhatsApp with Church Warden Jen on the Costa del Sol. She's a Welsh speaker hails from Ammanford, and with her husband John served in Peru with the South American Missionary Society when they were young so both speak Spanish. In later life, John headed the organisation which sent them, and they retired to the Costa del Sol rather than stay in Britain.
I learned that the chaplaincy now has three worship centres rather than the five which existed last time I was there on locum duty. Saint Andrew's church in Los Boliches has had its hall section renovated recently, and post-covid is getting used socially again, and congregation numbers picking up. I find it interesting that the Costa chaplaincies have similar attendances now to St Catherine's and St John's, about forty in the committed core of membership.
Clare and I shared the cooking of lunch. A nurse arrived as we were about to start eating, to teach Clare how and where to inject herself with the osteoporosis medication prescribed for her by the specialist bone consultant. Afterwards I went to town to bank a cheque in the main HSBC branch, one of the few left in Cardiff. The Canton branch closed last week, and I was saddened to see a work team emptying the building of its automatic machines. A product of the rise of on-line banking, it deprives customers of easy access to personal services, hitting hard those whose digital competence is limited or simply non-existent. Such an injustice.
I found a message from Mother Frances about another funeral the week after next, that I had to decline as we're down in the Gower. Then to my horror I realised that I'd already accepted to do another funeral earlier in the same week. I had to call her and the funeral directors and tell them I couldn't do either. I was mortified, and couldn't understand how I'd not noticed the commitment clash when it was written into my Google Calendar. It took me a while to work it out.
At the top of each calendar page church festivals and public holidays are listed in two separate lines, an engagement lasting over a week sits above them, and isn't so noticeable if the colour contrast doesn't make them noticeable. Too much information completing for attention. I switched off the festivals and holidays display now simplifying the diary page appearance. Now you can't miss any diary entry which spans days. I wish I'd done it before. I feel so ashamed of myself.
There wasn't much of interest on live TV, but I found there's a third series of 'Inspector Borowski' on More Four's 'Walter Presents' series of foreign movies. Old school German police procedural stories mostly focusing on cases where it turns out the perpetrator is a victim of circumstances who loses their grip on themselves, or just plain crazy, un-noticed. There's a fair amount of humour and occasionally surreal moments. I enjoyed the first two series episodes, so it's good there's another set to watch.
