Impersonal service

I wrote a note to my GP last night expressing concern about the leaky wound scar in my perineum. Like the terrifying nose bleeds I had a couple of months ago, it's a side effect from blood thinning meds I'm on. It was nearly midnight when I got to bed. I was awake for three hours of the nine I stayed in bed, mostly the hours before dawn, a poor night's sleep. I was tired after breakfast and though I felt sleepy I couldn't doze off again for more than a few minutes. I don't know why, as I feel more relaxed since I started acupuncture treatment.

I didn't feel like doing much and dozed in the armchair after breakfast until I recovered enough energy to have a shower and wash my hair. Then, a walk around to the surgery with the letter. Later I had a response from the surgery receptionist instructing me to ring up and book an appointment tomorrow morning at eight. I protested that waking up early enough to wait twenty minutes in a booking queue with no certainty of an appointment is stressful if you're unwell, but my protest fell on deaf ears. 

Despite presenting a printout of the Water Bill for payment at the Post Office, Clare was unable to pay it as the printout I gave her lacked a bar code to scan. Although it contained the account reference number and name a paying-in slip with bar code was required, so that the visible information on the bill could be scanned and used, rather than entering by hand. This was after queuing for twenty minutes to be served. What sort of service is this?

While Clare was on her way back from her failed mission, I prepared veg to cook for lunch with delicious swordfish steaks. After eating I printed the page from the water bill pdf containing a payment slip for the amount of the bill with the unnoticed relevant bar code. So much for user friendly means of in-person bill payments. This presumes everything that can be done electronically or on-line should be. My eyesight post-stroke is not as good as it needs to be for following on-line procedures. I can't imagine how difficult it must be for people who lose their sight in later life, as Clare is slowly, due to glaucoma.

I walked in Llandaff Fields during the sunset hour. It was overcast and started to drizzle as it cooled down once the sun behind the cloud slipped below the horizon. After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Shetland' and then wrote an Advent Reflection for next Wednesday's Morning Prayer. Then it was time for bed.

Appointment booking snafu

Woke up early to call the surgery at eight to fix a GP appointment. The phone  queuing system led to a dead end, not shutting down but hanging unresponsive. After five minutes, I redialled and after another ten minutes wait, I got through to the surgery, but by then there were no more 'book on the day' appointments left. At this,  I broke down in tears of frustration, and at the end of the call was left not knowing what, if anything, is going to happen next. 

After breakfast and meds, I sat in an armchair and read the office and liturgy of the Word for Mass, then fell asleep for an hour or so, exhausted emotionally. Then I woke up chilled despite a warm blanket cover. I need to wear a hat indoors to avoid cooling down when I'm inactive for any length of time. Intermittent sleep isn't enough so I'm waking up tired and dozing off.

Owain found the GP receptionists' email for me and I wrote to them after lunch seeking clarification about what is meant to happen next and when. Some of my medications are expiring now, having done their job. I am still on the clot busting medication which precipitated the nose bleed crisis, but the one which has helped clotting of the nasal lesions has now expired, which leaves me feeling uncertain. I have to rest a lot, but stress makes my blood pressure rise and affects nostril blood vessels. I can't write for too long either. I feel like I am on a tightrope. I was given a date for a blood pressure check in two weeks time over the phone, but then received an email reply saying a check must be done within the next week. What on earth is going on?

After lunch, we had a visit from Jorja, our new home help who's going to clean for us, and Michael of 'Care and Repair', a charitable community organisation which helps infirm and disabled people adapt their home to support their needs, and helps them engage with necessary utilities and service providers. We'll get new grab handles installed and a raised bank of power sockets for easier access in the lounge.

Owain and I walked to the Co-op at tea time for food shopping and cash withdrawal. The exercise did me good, and I coped with the noise and added stimulus of the street. Walking carefully, slow and tall is vital to avoid stumbling. A sense of being exposed and vulnerable with a foggy head and impaired vision keeps me alert and out of trouble. Owain cooked us a delicious spinach with pasta dish for supper and after we'd eaten he went out for a drink with friends at Chapter. After a few message exchanges and the last round of medications of the day, bed time, feeling I'm a bit more stable than I was yesterday. Hopefully I'll get clarity about BP checkup in tomorrow's email.

Occupation outrage opposed

Sunshine and clouds again today, pleasantly warm. Up at eight phoning the GP surgery for an appointment to examine a couple of small growths, one on each cheek, possibly a legacy from past mosquito bites, also to find out the result of the PSA test I had a couple of months ago. I was twelfth in the queue, and luckily landed the last bookable appointment for the day. Then I made breakfast listening to news missed earlier, having switched the radio on at seven and dozing until it was time to call for an appointment.

Reaction to Netanyahu's decision to drive out the remaining residents from Gaza city and occupy the city  militarily is provoking outrage in Israel and internationally. Germany is suspending arms shipments of equipment supplies to the IDF that would support the occupation. Conscious of its history, Germany has remained a steadfast ally of Israel, refraining from open criticism on Israeli policy hitherto. Trump is not expressing an opinion at the moment. In the early days of his presidency he declared himself in favour of re-locating the population of Gaza, in favour of redeveloping the Strip as a holiday venue, showing his interest in the land as real estate, not its occupants.

As an occupation timescale is envisaged over the coming months, some commentators reckon the proposal is intended mainly to put pressure on Hamas to return to the negotiating table, but having lost most of its control of the Gaza Strip, resistance to comply with Israel's demands is one power that remains to Hamas, It continues to drain Israel of resources and exhaust the patience of Israelis wanting the war to end and hostages to return. It could cost the lives of the remaining hostages. The use of force without diplomacy, without any clear vision let alone a plan of the eventual outcome, is doomed to fail. The American fiasco in facing Vietnamese insurgency back in the 1970s is already being remembered as an example. Israeli military leaders may well have this in mind in opposing Netanyahu's plan. It's impossible to see how things will develop from day to day. The only constant is the continuing slaughter of starving Palestinian adults and children. 

Anyway, the doctor said the PSA test was pretty normal for a healthy man of my age. She took a video of my blemished cheeks to send to a maxilio facial consultant to inspect. In the light of this I may get a reassuring opinion or an appointment for an expert hands on examination. 

Clare cooked a salmon and veg soup for lunch while I was out. I slept in the chair for an hour before going to Thompson's Park, and then to Cowbridge Road to meet Ashley for a chat. I took with me a set of still working powerline adaptors, no longer useful to me, but worth giving away rather than throwing away. He'd just bought a case for his new tablet, but forgotten to buy headphones to go with it. He returned home with me for another cup of tea plus an unused spare headphone set gathering dust for years in an office drawer. In times past new phones were issued with headphones. I had an unused set. I rarely used or broke a set so the spares have lasted the life of a succession of phones. Nowadays most people buy fancy wireless noise cancelling sets, which is why they're no longer provided with new phones.

After supper we watched the BBC Proms performance of the Sibelius 'New World' symphony, and I read in Spanish for an hour until bed time

Talking with kids about royalty

I had an advance call from Pidgeon's about another funeral in two weeks time, details to follow when the family have visited to make the rest of the arrangements. An early booking either means the family need that amount of time to gather, or that the booking schedule is getting busy, as it often does at this time of year.

I haven't yet risked the journey to St German's through the city centre, now that two way traffic has been restored after a very annoying period of more than a year, knowing how congested Newport Road can be in all conditions. Now that the pressure is taken off diversionary routes around the city centre, the drive can be as quick on a weekday morning as it is on a Sunday. 

When I arrived twenty five minutes early, a class of three dozen children was queuing outside waiting for the doors to open, arriving much earlier than was a planned. We waited  to start the Mass until the handful of regular congregation members turned up on time, but I took advantage of the opportunity to chat to the children about Kings and Queens before we got started with celebrating Christ the King with them, and that worked quite well. 

I didn't stop for coffee and a chat as I had to drive back to keep a blood test appointment at the surgery. It's now receiving patients for appointments inside again, with a one way system using front and side doors, a lot easier for staff to manage, with only a couple of waiting spaces, and times strictly controlled. When I job was done, I collected the weekly veggie bag appointment. then returned home. I cooked lunch for us, then went out to the shops to buy some food-bank items ready to take to St John's tomorrow. Again, I fell asleep in the chair for over an hour, but managed to rouse myself to get out and walk again before sunset.

I worked on next week's Morning Prayer and accompanying reflection and recorded it before supper. Ideas came to me easily again. It must be all the fresh air. We watched The Repair Shop together, then I watched the final episode of 'Shetland', which left you in no doubt there's be another series, ending with a dramatic hiatus, after the crime was solved. It's interesting seeing the Scottish legal system at work, as it's much like the European legal system with an investigating magistrate - the Procurator Fiscal - scrutinising cases and deciding on grounds for prosecution. It has much to commend it.

Time to start waiting

Since my gall stone gave me trouble last Sunday the discomfort and occasional pain beneath my right side rib cage hasn't hasn't gone away. A familiar symptom of inflammation, although it has recurred seldom in the three years since I switched to a dairy free diet. Now that I have almost completely recovered from my five rounds of surgery, I decided it was about time to start the process that will most likely lead to keyhole surgery to address the problem. 

As soon as I was awake this morning I rang the surgery for a telephone appointment, then wrote out a history of the trouble and what I'd done to mitigate the symptoms. Then I was ready when I was called by a GP at half past eleven. As a result of our 10-15 minute conversation, I have a blood test next week and an ultrasound scan has been ordered, the necessary first diagnostic step to confirm the symptoms are what they're supposed to be, and not something else. 

A course of action will then be proposed that will most likely mean getting in the long queue for surgery. The worse it gets the more likely that I'll be seen sooner rather than later, though I'd rather it didn't worsen. I spent far too long coping with the fistula and getting sicker awaiting treatment.  The trauma of those long waits are still with me and surface from time to time in my body memory if not my mind.

Once the GP call was over, I went out for some fresh air before cooking some chicken for lunch, Clare had prepared the veggies and some vegan protein balls for herself. I remembered Rufus' recommendation to drink some cider with lunch, which he found helpful to mitigate pain and discomfort from his gall stones - he is waiting for an operation already. Clare bought me the bottle of cider which I drank when she was out shopping, and at the end of my afternoon walk, I bought a larger one which will last over the weekend. It seems there's something about cider and even cider vinegar which helps the stomach to maintain an alkaline environment. We'll see if it works for me. 

The document I've been working on with Rufus lately, I ran past my old friend Roy, still in Alicante, and it was well received. Rufus is now trying it out on other parties, likely to be interested in a pioneering ministry initiative.

I watched the second half of the 'Dalgleish' episode this evening, which was fairly convincing. Clare went away and watched Royal Welsh College music videos on her tablet, less convinced than I that another 'hudunnit' was worth the time.

News reports from across Europe mention a significant rate of increase in covid infections - a fourth wave that is leading to a resumption of restrictions. It could be happening here as well, though high vaccination up-take means Britain is coping better with already high infection numbers. As I see it, all of Europe and the UK are paying the price for lifting restrictions early. Masks and social distancing contribute to curbing infection spread, even if it's less easy to say by how much. If they were obligatory everywhere it must help make a difference. For every person that does the right thing, however, there's another than doesn't care and things they have a right to be careless and risk infecting others.

  

Recovering from lockdown

A necessarily early start today, with the car to deliver to NG Motors in Splott by eight thirty for a service and MOT test. Fortunately the traffic was lighter than I expected, so I was on my way back home on foot by a quarter to nine, walking across the city centre as far as Westgate Street, to catch a bus for the rest of the way. A round trip of an hour, with three quarters of an hour to spare before going to the surgery for a blood test and blood pressure reading. Thankfully, it's not as high now as it was a couple of weeks ago, even after a couple of demanding days plus an early start after a late bed time.

I've been pondering on what leads to a period when my blood pressure seems to surge frighteningly for a prolonged period. Just before we went to Aberaeron I had a demanding week with three funerals in two days. We had a lovely relaxing week there, but it was our first outing under covid since last summer. Then two weeks after returning we had our family gathering in Oxwich, again relaxing and enjoyable, no really unusual demands or stress. Both outings represented a substantial change from our habitual daily routine over a period of a year, and the underlying adjustment required, getting used to something different, may well be a source of hidden stress. Now that most restrictions are lifted, we're having to adjust to greater freedom in using our time from day to day. We have a greater choice of habit, something to get used to, like a prisoner in the time after release. Being older, adjustment takes longer.

I was aware yesterday, driving to Weston for the first time in several years of being slightly nervous at first but the longer I spent behind the wheel, the more relaxed as well as alert I became. Taking Owain back to Redfield in Bristol rush hour was pretty demanding, but by then I was into my fourth hour of driving and had adjusted to stop start traffic and changing lanes with increasing ease. I'd expected to be exhausted and tense by the time we got home but I wasn't. I went for a late walk and slept well, though not long enough. 

It's a matter of adjustment, reclaiming from mind and body memory old patterns of behaviour learned half a century ago, but unused for a couple of years. I remember a similar experience of adjusting to the change when getting into a car after arriving from UK in Spain. The steering wheel is on the opposite side of the car, and you drive on the other side and you look in different directions for safety checks. It's almost fifty years since I first drove abroad, long before living abroad. Swapping between UK and EU was un-nerving anf challenging initially, but adjustment to the change gets easier once you have both habits. Stress in the face of change may be inevitable. The more you change it seems the easier it gets, as happens when when exercising physically, it wakes time to warm up physically and move at optimum efficiency. The same with the brain.

After the surgery visit, I dropped in on Emma for coffee and a chat. It's the first opportunity we've had to catch up face to face for ages. He two small children are a delight to watch at play around the house, even if they clash and cry and need a cuddle from Mum, Dad or Grandpa. They're both very active, and a day of intermittent showers confines them to the house, which is frustrating for them, especially when the big people are preoccupied and busy. The family are getting their first proper holiday together since Eleanor was born next week. Thank heavens, they deserve it.

I spent the afternoon working on next week's Morning Prayer assignment, so I don't have to do anything but upload it while we're away in Felixstowe with Ann. Then, this evening we watching the recording of Wednesday's live performance from memory of Stravinsky's 'Firebird' suite by the Aurora ensemble. It was beautiful to watch, emotionally powerful, filled with resurrection vitality. In a word - thrilling. 

Back to St German's

A slightly later Sunday start today, with a drive over to St German's to sing the Solemn Mass, and then to baptize little Harry, Andy and Michelle's second child. They tried to arrange a christening not long after he was born, but then came lock-down, and now Harry is a lively two year old, held in his mother's arms so that I could pour water over his head and anoint him. It was a special delight. Since covid, they have both changed jobs. He's now a train conductor, and she's in training as a driver on the Swansea to Paddington route. The advantage of both working for the same rail company is that it's easier for them to co-ordinate their shifts, so they can share the care of their children. I was thrilled to meet them again and minister to them and their extended family.

Tuesday this week is St German's Day, but no arrangement was made to celebrate this in advance today, so tomorrow evening's six o'clock Mass will anticipate the feast instead.

It was two o'clock by the time I got back for lunch. Clare hadn't realised that I had a christening as well as a Mass, and started eating, but at least we shared a pudding of banana in chocolate sauce before she had a siesta and I went for a walk in the park before some preparatory work on Carole's funeral order of service.

By the time we had supper it was time for the evening's BBC Prom - the three last Mozart symphonies. I listened to the first, then remembered that I had to write to my GP for a prescription renewal and request a check-up, as I haven't seen any medic since my op. So, I wrote a letter reporting on how I'd been over the past three months, and walked around to the surgery with the letter. Hopefully this will start the process with a telephone consultation tomorrow. 

Getting ready for Easter

Occasional bursts of rain and cold winds today. I had an appointment for a blood pressure check at the GP surgery at ten. It's much the same as it was when I last went, when I was still taking the doxazosin, so at least I've not made things any worse. I had a good discussion with the practice nurse, who, knowing my condition wasn't unduly concerned about the reading she took. I discovered that she used to work on the Llandough day surgery colorectal surgery team with Mrs Cornish. A reassuring surprise.

As I've been asked to do the Easter Week on-line Morning Prayer and Reflection, I wrote the first in the series of six, starting from an idea I remembered from last night as I was falling asleep. I've also been asked to celebrate the Eucharist at St Catherine's next Wednesday. I enjoy being in the congregation on the receiving end, but no longer feel that as I priest I must, out of devotion if not duty, be celebrating as often as I can. Being able to stand in and support our overworked clergy team means a lot, and gives me a different kind of pleasure and satisfaction. 

I had a preparatory phone conversation with the chief mourner for next Thursday's funeral. I'm standing in for Fr Jesse in Caerau with Ely Parish. As it's Maundy Thursday, he'll be gathering, in the flesh or digitally, for the Chrism Mass with other clergy I imagine. I've had to cover in the past when there have been funerals on this day. 

Clare went into town to bank a cheque and enquire about transferring big sums digitally and she returned reassured by what she learned. I cooked a paella with prawns in it for lunch, and that worked out well. Clare was late returning, but it was just ready finally as she came through the door.

I fell asleep again after lunch and went out late for a walk, late in the sense that Clare had booked me to take her to Rumney for her first post lock-down hairdo with Chris at six. We were surprised at how little traffic there was. It took us half the usual drive time to get there. I returned, got supper ready for her, and spent the evening writing in front of the telly, catching up on this week's 'New Amsterdam' episode. One of the stories was about a prayer group which met in the hospital concourse. Good things were seen to happen when they were around. 

Dr Max Goodwin, the hospital director is of Jewish origins, a very secular scientist. He tolerates the group's presence, unprepared to see any difference their prayer is supposed to make until he himself ends up trying to intercede for a patient with a new life threatening ailment, who then inexplicably recovers. Everyone is relieved and grateful but mystified by what happens. Even the pastor of the prayer group admits he doesn't know how it happens: "But I know one good thing." he says smiling. "Prayer changes us inside!" A-men to that.

Welsh art showcased

It's getting light earlier each day, but I'm still not taking advantage of this and getting up earlier, as I find it hard to get to bed before midnight. By the time I've finished my morning routines it's time for coffee and really I've not done anything extra. It's a pity that some of the more watchable TV shows, especially the news, are on quite late if you want to watch them live.

Anyway, before lunch I went for a walk in Thompson's park with my Sony Alpha DSLR. The buds on the magnolia tree by the pond are shedding their exterior cladding and revealing their light purple colour. The highest of the buds are already starting to open into full flower. That's happened just over the weekend.

I had a telephone conversation about my blood pressure medication top up prescription with a GP who is new, working part-time in our local practice. He gave me a good hearing and agreed to prescribe two lots of doxazosin of different daily dosages, so that I can vary the amount I take in an attempt to reduce the high systolic and minimise side effects. As it happens today has turned out to be a day with less intense side effects than usual, though I haven't bothered to check my blood pressure, just enjoyed feeling good.

Then, I went out for another walk down to the river and back, taking my Olympus with the telephoto lens, determined to make an effort to learn how to get the best results form it, as it's quite different from other long lenses I work with. Knowing one's equipment, taking the same subjects with different cameras is an experiential way of learning which works well for me, and gives me a basis for understanding the theory of lens optics better. But it's a slow job!

Before supper, Clare and I sat down with a computer, and filled in the digital census form together. We'd been in this house about a year at the time of the last census. It's strange that I can't remember anything about it. It must have been a slim paper form at that time, and maybe simpler. This time around it took somewhat longer to complete, half an hour altogether, despite saying "only ten minutes" at the outset. There are multiple choice questions about identity - marital status, ethnicity, gender identity - reflecting the preoccupations of the age, I guess. Glad that's out of the way now.

We watched an excellent edition of 'Fake or Fortune' this evening, about authenticating two works thought to be by Paul Gauguin. Recently, there's been a series of three programmes about Welsh art and artists on BBC2 Wales on Tuesday nights and the final one followed on from this on BBC Two Wales. I started watching late and re-started on iPlayer once I tracked them down. The presenter Huw Stephens who works for Radio Cymru/Wales is the son of Meic Stevens, renowned Welsh language activist and author. At 17 Huw was the youngest ever Radio One Welsh language presenter. He's well known for his promotion and documentation of Welsh music, and clearly enjoys talking about Welsh art as well. I look forward to watching the other programmes later in the week.

Welcome appointments

Another dull routine day of mild damp weather, with spells of rain while walking walks before lunch. The cloud layer was thin enough for the sun to shine through bright enough to make the hedgerows glisten with raindrops. Enchanting. 

Just before I went out, I had a phone call from our GP practice mid morning giving us both vaccination appointments for this Friday morning at the Cardiff City Football Stadium. I'm so pleased it happened this way hearing the familiar voice of one of the receptionists, rather than the voice of someone at a call centre somewhere else. Ours is a big practice working out of cramped outdated premises, but they're so good at organising routine checks and winter 'flu jabs and giving telephone consultations when there's no need or too long to wait for a visit to the surgery. .

Talking of telephone appointments, I had a letter booking me for a chat with surgeon Mrs Cornish in the post this morning in mid March. That's a result of me writing to her ten days ago after a few painful days when the suture's free end stuck into me several times, and I didn't know what to do.. It's not happened again recently, as I discovered that I could avoid this happening by changing the way I dress the wound. I wonder if she's reviewed the MRI scan yet? I don't imagine I'll get the suture removal op for several months more in the present state of crisis, but I'm less worried now. I know I can live with it, confident that slowly, small improvements in the wound condition are happening.

I watched a few episodes of the second series of 'The Mallorca Files' in the evening. It's as disappointing as the first series was. An interesting idea expat detectives in a beautiful stylish exotic location, spoiled by poor acting and garbled dialogue. Many Mallorcans will be English speakers, but to have them all speaking English with Spanish accents, and never a subtitle in sight is like rolling the clock back to post war B movies. Some of the plots don't quite hang together, unless it's a case of shoddy editing leaving plot connections half inferred rather than joined up. The island's scenic beauty offers a great dramatic platform, but it could be so much better. It's meant to be entertaining, but ends up being irritating, but that is not unusual. 

I've noticed how many archaeology, history and science programmes take basically interesting reportage and flog it to death by telling the story in a way that involves far too many repeats. What aims to be 'dramatic reveal' ends up making interesting facts boring. It's not so much dumbing down as dulling down. It's reflected in many newspaper articles I read, even in 'posh' papers, so badly edited that almost all of the informative opening few paragraphs of a report are repeated later in the same article, Articles and telly programmes could all be shorter if time was spent editing them properly to deliver a coherent not a tedious message. 

Payback time

Wales's regional lock-down started this evening, not that it makes as much difference to us as will the even stricter self-isolation I'll have to endure for two weeks before the operation (if it happens). We're well prepared, thanks to Clare's superb household management skills. Even so, there were a few things which I needed, plus some extra fruit, which took me out twice on shopping errands today.

After my first outing to the shops, I called in to the GP surgery for a blood pressure check. It was very high when I arrived as I'd been walking briskly, but soon settled down to just above normal. This is a great relief. Slowly, I believe I'm shaking of the chronic stress I have lived with, and am getting closer to finding a level of supplementary Doxazosin dosage that doesn't leave me feeling light headed and faint for much of the day. Clare's herb teas, foot massages and Reiki have all made a difference too. I've not taken my own blood pressure for months because the abnormally high level was worrying me too much, and probably helping to make things worse. 

Emma has asked me to do another week's worth of reflections to publish daily on the Parish Facebook page in a month's time. So nice to be asked again.

I did an hour's work on the novel before cooking lunch. I wish I could put in several hours a day, but if I sit for too long this has dire consequences for my wound which tends to break open, no matter what I do to avoid this happening. It's tiring, standing up to write for the length of time I need to, if I'm to make progress in finishing the job, and there are only a few places where I can perch a computer at a suitably ergonomic height to make it easy to type. Two days ago I spent an hour cutting up crab apples prior to cooking them. I expected my wrist to give me trouble yesterday, but surprisingly it didn't. After working at the computer using a mouse today, it was payback time. Now my left wrist hurts, no matter what I rub into it. Serves me right for overdoing it I suppose. I'll stop here for today.

Timed out, taking time

This morning, Clare was ordering on-line the weekly grocery delivery from the Co-op. When it came to payment, the process stalled as the website sought secure payment confirmation from the Visa security server. Authentication wasn't given, and a notification referred her to the bank as the process timed out. Twenty minutes later after a phone call, confirmation was received that no payment had gone through and the card wasn't blocked. The conclusion was that something had gone wrong with the Co-op server side. Another phone call to a Co-op helpline confirmed that they were 'experiencing difficulties' with the payment system, and she wasn't the first person to complain. Another hour of wasted time and frustration. 

Digital payment isn't always as convenient or secure as it needs to be to replace real money, but we're now so dependent on it, in an effort to minimise covid contagion. Using contactless card payment in shops instead of cash for the most part works well enough. I always ask for receipts, but the number of receipts for small amounts is so huge that our receipt file grows thicker and so much more time consuming to refer to if anything does go wrong. 

Banking practice still aims to be as accurate as possible with the tiniest margin of error possible and heaven help you if you overdraw. Not everybody bothers with receipts, however, assuming it's safe enough, with such small amounts, if taken in error being trivial in the bigger picture. But is it really in our best interests to not pay attention to the details, 'the little things' Dewi Sant called us to be mindful of?

I had another chat with my GP about adjusting the dosage of the Doxazosin which I think has been giving me problems recently and she's agreed to trying out a reduction. I'll get a practice blood pressure check next week, before I go back into quarantine.

Every day when I walk in the park I see squirrels sometimes several at a time chasing each other around. Photographing them seems trickier than it used to. Perhaps my reactions aren't as sharp as the once were. Even so, I got two good photos of the same creature today, in a tree four metres above my head, and that was after pursuing it with the lens from the ground up without getting it in frame. A small achievement to post on Instagram, as I have done for some time with some pictures that please me out of the hundreds I take. I used to embed photos in blog postings, but as it's a fiddly business to re-size them satisfactorily, I seldom have enough time for it these days. I don' know where the time goes. Perhaps it just takes that much longer to concentrate as well as reflect on the passage of days.

This evening we watched a round of the Great British Bake-off on telly, for lack of anything else to take an interest in. While it's interesting to see how creative participants can be, I don't like the competitive time cramped framework. Sure, much in the art of cooking depends on getting the timing right, pressure can bring out the best in some people, though not everyone. Great art works generally take time.

Self isolation - together

Yesterday was a day of intermittent rain and windy dry spells, and still rather mild. In the morning, I had a chest examination at our GP surgery, to confirm my cold is really on its way out. Very little coughing now and the doctor said that I'd be OK to spend the next two weeks waiting in self isolation for operation number four. I was also given a 'flu vaccine injection. Clare also had hers later in the day, having booked one at the pharmacy so we're both covered for the winter now. 

After lunch I had a call from the surgeon's secretary to check that all is as hoped for, and that I know what's happening. She told me I'm listed for a morning operation, That means checking it at the Spire hospital for seven o'clock, leaving at a quarter past six to be sure to arrive in good time. It's like that necessary flight departure time - you may hate the sleep disruption to get there as required, but there's no alternative but to put up with it..

The Taff water level was a little lower than yesterday so much of the island of stones in the middle of the river was visible again, Unusually, there were a pair of cormorants and a heron keeping vigil over the waves, hoping to spy and catch a fish. Owing to the gusty wind, there were scores of gulls and crows grounded on the sodden grass. 

We again spent the evening watching another three episodes of 'The Shtisels' It's entertaining but gives a lot to ponder on, about power and control, love and freedom in an extended family striving to do their best to keep their conservative traditional faith and lifestyle. With nothing in the diary for either of us in the next two weeks of lock-down, we can work our way through our collection of videos we've never got around to watching.

Today was the first day of quarantine, wearing a face mask out in the street on the way to the park and keeping at least five metres from anyone passing. And, not touching anything with hands, i.e. opening gates, or pressing the button at the zebra crossing. No visits to shops etc. It's stricter than usual, but not too far from how I am habitually. I spent many weeks on my own with next to no social contact and no physical contact with others or the environment outside the house and grounds, so I'm used to it.

Walking along the river path this afternoon, I saw a flock of crows grounded and a young heron walking about among them, without conflict or disruption. An older heron was keeping vigil on the island of stones in the river, a hundred metres away. It's rare for me to see two in the same vicinity like that.

This evening we watched two more episodes of 'The Shtisels', and decided that we'd keep the final one in the box set for tomorrow night, both of us being rather tired. Yesterday's 'flu jabs seem to have had more of an impact on us this year than previously. Is it just that we're getting old? 

Fact resembling fiction

Another day of rain and gusts of mild wind that strips the trees of leaves that are turning colour, about to fall A bizarre day with early news reports that President Trump and his wife have contracted coronavirus and are quarantined in the White House. Heaven knows what impact this will have during the last month of campaigning before the US election. It's as strange as the script of a disaster action movie.

Trump has behaved disgracefully in refusing to set a good example, wearing  face mask and keeping a safe social distance at all time, undermining the messages of public health and safety officials. Will this illness win him a sympathy vote, or will it simply demonstrate how unfit for leadership he has proved himself to be in his handling of a pandemic which has afflicted the USA badly? 

It was a matter of putting on full rain-wear for walking today or not going out. There were few people in the park, intrepid joggers and dog walkers mainly. Clare's been trying to organise 'flu injections for us before we go into quarantine. As I'm having a check-up on Monday, I asked the surgery if the GP could give me one at the same time. If that doesn't work out Clare as a couple lined up for us at the pharmacy opposite the surgery.

Covid-19 infection numbers are daeths continue to rise across the country, although it seems the rate of increase is slowing. Hardly a comfort for those who have to deal with the influx of cases, or try to track and trace groups of infected people. 

No end in sight to the mess we're in

Yesterday I booked an appointment at the Riverside wound clinic, which meant making an early start to walk there by ten past nine. When I arrived I discovered that I wasn't expected. The person who made the booking booked me into the first slot in the second room in the clinic which wasn't in operation. Only one nurse was on duty and she was waiting for a patient who was yet to arrive. I was able to book a slot for Thursday this week and take some medical supplies away with me.

Later I had a phone conversation with one of the GP team, reporting back on my condition after finishing the sixth course of antibiotics. My blood pressure hasn't dropped from its worryingly high level. I'm still waiting for a cardiology specialist appointment to address this concern, and tomorrow I have the pre-op assessment. We agreed it was likely to trigger a speedy examination to ascertain whether they would be able to operate on me, because of the three week time frame for preparing the surgical list. Tinkering about with medication in the meanwhile seems unwise. I was insistent that it's the state of the wound which is the root cause of the high blood pressure, just as it was before I had the first round of surgery twenty months ago. 

In other respects, I'm as fit and well as I can be. My daily walking mileage is back to normal, better in fact, after a few days last week when fighting off the cold led me to reduce by 20%. I've come through a heavy cold without setback, and my head has been a lot clearer in the past week or so. than it has been for a long time. I'm just hoping my immune system won't weaken further, in the run-up to the operation.

After a damp and misty yesterday, it's back to a warm sunny autumnal day today, no need for a top coat, good for the spirit. Infection rates continue to rise across Wales, and now four North Wales local authority areas have had restrictions imposed. Across the country there's a great deal of media fuss about how the so called 'rule of six' limit on people meeting socially is to be interpreted. Not even the Prime Minister can make it unequivocally clear. 

Is it so hard to say that it's better if people avoid face to face socialising altogether? The pandemic is trashing the economy globally and locally. It's going to drain the wealth of many if not all nations profoundly. Jobs will be lost, people will suffer, whether people can and do socialise in the short term or not. Socialising without strict constraints will cost lives. Many seem resistant to the need for any kind of constraint, and don't understand the risk they pose to others. 

This is a time to rethink what the healing of a community, of society as a whole really means, but not everybody gets it. Coming to our senses collectively and doing the right thing is proving much harder than it was hoped for. 

It was cousin Ivor's funeral today, just as Clare and I were sitting down to lunch. We remembered him in prayer, as we said grace. How long I wonder will it be before it's possible for remaining cousins to meet and celebrate the lives of those who have died since we were last able to hold a family gathering. How long before I'll be able to meet with my sister Pauline's family to celebrate her life together?

The most important think is not forgetting to keep on asking the question. 

Not so smart web

After breakfast this morning I took my blood pressure and was relieved that the average of three best readings wasn't as worryingly high as it has been lately, even if it is still high by doctor's benchmarks. I thought I should report back to my GP, and attempted to do so as requested, using the Practice website. It's mostly a portal to information streams about health concerns, with an auto-triage system to enquire about a vast range of medical and administrative concerns. But it is far from user friendly. It seems to have been designed by a medical encyclopedia geek, who really has little idea of what the system is like for end users. I couldn't find a way to send a simple report directly. 

After half an hour of trying to fit my report into a small message window on one of the pages and pressing send, an automatic message appeared telling me to phone the surgery or 111 urgently. So I rang the surgery and got the automatic queuing system. I didn't have to wait long to reach the head of the queue, but was then disconnected! So, I spent another half an hour writing and printing off a letter and then took it around to the surgery, giving a little feedback about the system. 

I find it amazing that the system is built round a complex series of interrogatory menus - heaven  help you if you don't describe symptoms or  use language in a culturally different frame of reference to that of the program designer. All those wild eyed enthusiasts in government and medical bureaucracy tell us how it's going to be great when A.I. systems make light work of diagnosing the ailments of the masses. It's the ultimate extension to the industrialisation of medicine in the past half century. Advocates are deaf to challenges about A.I. inbuilt discriminatory tendencies leading to sick people not being taken seriously in time of need, because they are atypical. 

Real human diagnosticians pick things up which no digital device ever could. The pandemic has forced medics to do much of their work without seeing or examining patients directly. Having a personal relationship with a GP over years is being replaced by being acquainted with a practice medical team which may or may not have enough useful specific knowledge to make an accurate diagnosis. Loads of unread notes in a file system, digital or paper, aren't information giving a whole picture. Someone suffering may tell their story differently to different medics. Sure diagnostic tools are most valuable but not as valuable as personal knowledge of someone, mutual regard and trust.

Having spent a week taking my Olympus OM-D with me on my daily walk, I took the Sony Alpha 68 out with me today for a change. With my long telephoto lens, over twice the weight of the Olympus, it's noticeably more demanding to carry. I took a lot more photos in one day than I've been taking with the Olympus, it's a lot more flexible in the range of photos you can take with it, maybe too because I'm used to it, I take more advantage of it. The Olympus telephoto lens is not nearly as flexible, even though it's very light in comparison. I'm lucky to have interesting kit to play with, to see how I can get the best photos of subjects that please me eye, mostly landscapes, building and trees in different light.

This evening I finally watched the NCIS episode in which Pauley Perret aka forensic genius Abbi Sciuto leaves the series. It was controversial when it was first aired a couple of years ago and I had already read a summary of the story. Interesting to see how it was presented, however, discreetly sidestepping the brrakdown in relationship between Perrette and Mark Harmon the show's lead actor and co-director.

Change of role

I woke up to a bright sunny day with big gusts of wind now and then, realising that the condition of my wound is still deteriorating, I called the surgery and asked for another GP phone call. I've been prescribed a sixth course of antibiotics and given the A&E number to call if it doesn't improve over the weekend. I'm not as feeling poorly as I did a couple of weeks ago. My blood pressure may still be high, something needs to change. Hopefully there'll be further action on this next week. Meanwhile it's 'keep on taking the pills'. Daunting really.

Still working on my Jubilee Sunday sermon, developing an idea that's been brewing all week but not yet ready to finalise. Finding it difficult to do something other than just reminisce. I cooked a stir fry with prawns and rice for lunch. Not my usual fare but it turned out satisfactorily. I hope my sermon will too.

During my walk in the park I saw a group of young adults having fun making clouds of bubbles, and took a few photos of them. As I was leaving, one of the girls ran over and asked if I could email her the photos, which I did when I got home, A couple of hours later I had a thank you from her. With a little editing they turned out nicely.

I watched a quirky detective show on 5USA in the evening, the last in a series I've not bothered to watch, but on this occasion I did bother because the guest star was William Shatner aka Captain Kirk, playing an elderly Jewish private eye, somewhat rogueish in character. It's the first time I've seen Shatner in anything other than a Star Trek uniform, let alone in a fully comic role. He's a very good character actor.

A return to the altar

This sunny morning, when I joined the congregation at St John's for the Eucharist, it was an occasion with special significance for me. It was the first time for me to lead worship with nine people from God's altar for the first time since March 8th. Fr Benedict was there ahead of me to open up and keep an eye on me as I went through the safety procedures for the first time under the 'new normal' regime. For the most part it was just like any other service I've taken at St John's. It was just a matter of observing anti-contamination measures correctly. It's easy with a few communicants, and would be more difficult on a Sunday with three or four times the number, not to miss anyone out when distributing Communion to people in their places. 

I had resigned myself to not being called upon to take services again, due to my age and vulnerability. The concern has been highlighted by the CofE, but less obviously stated in the Church in Wales. Since I've been back in Wales I've taken two funerals and have a third booked. As long as it's deemed permissible, I am happy to be called upon when need arises. In the meanwhile, I remain content to be a worshipper with the people, instead of always leading the people. My sense of being part of the Body of Christ, and all that it means in relationship to God, has, I think, deepened this past six months of idleness.

Mark arrived and joined us for the service. He said he might come by to check out the venue for a music and iconography project which he and Fran are hoping to put together this autumn. As he was on his way to a gig rehearsal, he had his violin with him, so asked if he's like to play something to test the acoustics, which he then did, playing by heart three different movements from Bach solo instrumental pieces. It was a sweet sound, as the church acoustics are very good, especially with fewer chairs laid out, as is the case at present. What a lovely treat. Fr Benedict was there and when we explained about the project in hand, he expressed his enthusiasm for the idea, especially as it's something that can be done well on a small scale, which is really what's possible under current regulations. Watch this space!

Again, I intended to go shopping in town after lunch, but ended up walking to Splott the other side of the city centre to retrieve the car from its MOT test, once more successfully, thank heavens. It took an hour and twenty minutes to get there, a bit longer than I had expected. I think I was walking slower than usual as my energy level was down. I suspect that I still have a low level wound infection my body is trying to fight off, as I go through periods when I feel tired and foggy, and times when I am my usual self. When I took my blood pressure it was worryingly high, and not much changed from what it was a few weeks ago. After supper I wrote to my GP, to inform her of what's happening, requesting a telephone consultation, and then I took the letter around to the surgery.

It's odd. The afternoon tiredness had worn off, and it was no effort to walk to the surgery and back. When I checked my daily walking distance, I found that I'd walked thirteen and a half kilometres, thirty per cent more than what I usually cover. I simply don't know what to make of this, and hope the doctor will.

St David to tea in the garden

I took my prescription renewal request to the surgery this morning. Having been away and obtaining a couple of months worth of medication over in Ibiza, it's taken this long to get down to the last week's supply. The renewal procedure has changed, and the practice website doesn't reflect this. Now that the usual entrance to the surgery is closed, the designated collection box for prescription requests is not in use. You have to post them through the letter box in the door which is in use instead. I just hope it doesn't get blown into an obscure corner when the door is opened to admit patients and visitors!

As I was about to go out for my afternoon walk, I had a call from Mother Frances asking if I could do a funeral in two weeks time, as two came in on the same day. While I was out in the park, starting to pick blackberries I had a phone call from Clare to say that Fran and Mark were coming around for tea in the garden, so I had to curtail my foraging effort and head for home.

It's a happy coincidence that they have got together, as a couple. We've known them both separately for different reasons for almost twenty years. Fran, due to her involvement in the Steiner School, Mark as a musician friend of Rachel's, who put concerts on at St John's when I was Vicar there.

Fran brought with her an icon of St David which she's painting, to show us. Clare sponsored it as a gift to the school, an inspirational reminder of its Welsh roots. She's working on it thoughtfully and slowly in the tradition of Byzantine iconography, while depicting Dewi Sant primarily as a simple Celtic monk. 

Although he was a Bishop, showing him in the status loaded episcopal vestments of the Byzantine or  the Roman churches would not be wholly appropriate. Celtic Bishops were more grassroots people spending their lives travelling around evangelising and supporting church communities, rather than presiding from an urban centre of power. Looking forward to seeing the finished product!

We watched the 'War on Plastic' follow-up programme on telly later in the evening. It was an interesting exposure of misrepresentation of information about the recycleability of sandwich boxes and the plastic mesh used in many brands of teabag. Also it highlighted concern about the increased use of plastic packaging for vegetables in supermarket home deliveries during lockdown, and the growing environmental menace from discarded face masks, something I've noticed both in streets and parks. How will the vicious cycle of over consumption of plastic material ever be broken?

Litter picking resumed

More sunshine, clouds and showers today. We were promised strong winds today and the speed at which the clouds moved easterly was just a hint of what was to come from mid morning until early evening. It wasn't just a persistent strong wind, but gusts of fifty miles an hour or more, lasting for a few minutes and then fading away, all quite unpredictable and challenging to stay upright walking to the shops when Clare and I went out together.

We went to the medical appliance shop on Cowbridge Road East and bought a thick wedge type cushion to use on chairs whose seat angle promotes wound discomfort even when using my existing ring cushion. The combination of the two proves an instant success, which means I can sit and write for much longer without discomfort or damage. 

A also bought one of those 'Reach/Grabber' devices - a pincer on a long arm that enables the user to get things down from a high shelf or pick things up off the floor. In reality I have no need to use it for either of these reasons. I bought it to use when out in the park for hygienic litter picking. I've not done any since I returned from Ibiza, and some days litter discarded hundreds of metres from the nearest bin the previous evening spoils my walk. The evidence of lazy greedy consumer selfishness tempts me to resent and hate not love my neighbour. 

It's only a small minority of park users, and it's just about balanced by the number of park lovers who pick up litter - elderlies, parents teaching their young to care about the environment and help to maintain it for the benefit of others. The Council has risen to the challenge of increasing bin emptying to match increased public use of the parks. There's even a worker called Richard who patrols early, spot collecting before the rubbish collection lorry arrives, but volunteers also contribute to the perpetual park clean up, although less so to keeping the streets free of litter. They often look neglected for weeks at a time. 

I notice where bottles and cans get dumped - in gutters, on garden walls, street side window sills, telecoms junction cabinets, even within sight of a bin. The use of street sweeping machines is never enough to do the job properly, and accompanying workers find it hard to keep up because of the mess generated and left when gulls break open bin bags and scatter the contents when searching for food.

I took my Grabber with me for my walk in the park at the end of the afternoon. I was surprised at how clear of litter it was. Others have been at work cleaning up in the past few days and there have been far fewer people socialising outdoors due to the rain and wind. One can, three plastic bottles and a glass one in a spot where it lay unnoticed where it had been discarded over the weekend. Because of the high wind I also collected several plastic shopping bags which had been blown and got caught in bushes or fences. One of them contained discarded paper and plastic. Perhaps a fellow collector had lost their grip on a bag which blew away in the wind? It easily happens if they inflate. 

Young saplings recently planted in the park either snapped in the trunk or had their support stay wrenched from the ground, more or less ensuring eventual shearing off. Some of the big trees lost branches too, and a lot of smaller branches littered the grass, travelling a distance buffeted like tumbleweed before the wind.

I had a GP phone call in the afternoon. It seems that my blood count is returning to normal. I have been prescribed a slightly lower dosage of Doxazosin to see if that mitigates the side effects and still helps to reduce and stabilise my blood pressure. I have started using an ear wax dissolving solution as hearing with my right ear is particularly poor, and I think I've been having inner ear problems as well, which seem to amplify, if that's the right word, the medication side effects. The effect or starting to use it is that my ear is even more blocked tonight with the dissolving fluid. Hopefully it will pass as the stuff does its job.