Dydd gwyl Dewi Sant

My Dewi Sant video reflection uploaded and displayed as hoped for without hassle just after I wok up at eight today. June my sister rang at nine expressing delight and enthusiasm for an outdoor production of Puccini's 'Turandot' by Sydney Opera, live streamed on Sky Arts, starting at seven this morning. She set her alarm to get up early enough to watch it. This is one of series of brilliantly staged outdoor operas the company has staged this year apparently. I think the Aussies have weather on their side, plus plenty of wide open spaces.

The house gas supply is being switched off today to upgrade the piping from street to meter, Clare got up early and raised the thermostat to warm the house through as much as possible before shut down. It's overcast again today but mild, so the house will cool down slower than at night. The gas went off at ten and work was done first at the house gas meter end, then along the supply path. The gas supply was on again at two, pretty good going.

Interesting, a couple of days ago the new said that Ghana would be the first West African country to get a supply of vaccines. This morning's first day vaccination report was from the Ivory Coast. Then in the evening new the vaccination launch in Ghana was reported. It makes me wonder how much guesswork and how much co-ordination is going on in the news reporting editorial office. 

Trump has spoken publicly for the first time since leaving office, to a Republican convention, talking about a re-election bid in 2024. A golden image of him adorned the stage before he arrived in person. What do his biblical fundamentalist fans make of this I wonder? Some commentators reckon this self trumpeting behaviour will end up being counter-productive and drive moderate Republican support away to the Democrats. We'll see.

Before I went out for my walk of the day after lunch, I sat down for a while with my Olympus camera and started to explore the 'settings' dial. For the most part, I used the camera the lazy way, leaving the camera set to 'Auto'. When setting it up at the outset, I realised it had a complex set of menus. I found out in the 'Art' menu how to use a black and white photo pre-set but that was all. I was more interested in seeing how well it handled, how easy it was to use, and what sort of photos it gave, treating it like a simple point and shoot device. I felt it was time to get to know its settings better.

I turned its main top left dial to the SCN setting, and was surprised to discover a collection of sub menus that would suit portrait, landscape, night shots etc, but also some unexpected pre-sets, one is for 'macro' shots, very close up to small objects. Another pre-set was labelled 'wide angle'. This really surprised me. The all purpose short telephoto lens I mostly use isn't especially wide angled, but selecting the pre-set makes the field of view far wider. Likewise with the telephoto lens. And I'd been thinking that when the camera shops re-open my first purchase should be a wider angled lens! I've no idea how this works but the pre-set seems to change the aperture width, although there's no physical change to the lens. When I go looking for a new lens (most likely a long telephoto) I'll ask if anyone can explain this to me.

My walk took me up to Western Avenue and the down the west bank Taffside footpath, now dried out at last and no longer treacherous. I stopped to take a photo of the river, and while I was switching on, a Kingfisher emerged from the riverbank below me and flew upstream in full view at close quarters. It was too quick for me to raise and point my camera, but an ephemeral moment of delight. The last time I got a clear, if not so close look at a Kingfisher was in Corsica fourteen years ago. One day I'll get a photo!

Confirmation today of a funeral I was asked about before the weekend, and a request to do another. Both are next week, and I have one this week. It'll keep me busy. Glad to help out my colleagues too. There are still a lot of extra deaths, many of them pandemic related. I called the next of kin about this week's twice delayed funeral, and learned that not only was it a covid death, but that the care home in which it happened was closed down and is subject to police investigation of criminal neglect of residents. This help to explain the double delay. Covid has really exposed the inadequacies of social care for the elderly, disabled and vulnerable, accumulated over decades of under-investment and poor regulation. Sadly, much responsibility for this state of affairs stems from government policy. Reform is overdue. Will it happen as the country recovers from this pandemic, I wonder? 

Dydd Gwyl Dewi

This evening, Clare and I walked to Llandaff Cathedral for the Solemn Mass of St David's Day. Six lay clerks sang Byrd's three part Mass, so the although the service was mainly in English, we also had a little Greek, some Latin and some Welsh! We greatly enjoyed sitting up in the choir, I had Fr Mark sitting next to me in his new Canon Precentor's choir stall. It was lovely to see him and catch up with him after the service.  

Clouds, rain and sunshine today, more like April than March, after a run of clear skies and sunshine you'd be pleased to have at the end of April. The seasonal weather patterns we are used to are not as predictable as they used to be, thanks to global warming. I am amazed that there seem to be so many people in influential positions who remain skeptical about the evidence. The brexit deadline date is now four weeks away. Already the UK economy is suffering the impact of unpredictability because the decision making is so late and so chaotic in nature. Most economic forecasts about its impact are gloomy, and yet this isn't persuading euro-skeptics to change their mind or their commitment to see this through. It a matter of beliefs and perceptions of the world we live in, regardless of facts.

G K Chesterton said "When a man stops believing in God he doesn't then believe in nothing, he believes anything." It's something I see reflected in the past decades of the ascendancy of secular post modern post-Christian thinking. Everyone thinks and does what is right in his own eyes. Personal opinion trumps unifying corporate consensus and common commitment. Alliances may be possible with others who think like us, but are quickly broken by any difference of opinion which threatens personal ideas. Parliamentary chaos at this present time reflects what permeates society and culture. 

Chesterton's belief in God was rooted in his sense of orthodox Catholic moral order and worldview, a perspective which permits skepticism and deep criticism of alternative philosophies, ideologies and beliefs. It's tragic that the church's critical voice is being disregarded by the majority these days. So much moral authority has been lost by keeping quiet, cozying up to corrupt and evil regimes, failing to confront injustice, and ignoring the abusive behaviour of people in positions of trust and authority in church leadership as well. Doing the opposite its demanding, uncomfortable and costly, and while individuals are willing to sacrifice themselves to do the truth they find at the heart of Christian faith, sacrifice by the body of the church for the sake of the same truth - is less than evident. This weakens that moral and spiritual authority which once bound believers together into a faith community, so they have drifted away, and joined the ranks of those believing anything else except the inherited tradition of faith.

I've thought a lot recently about why church hierarchs of different denominations have attempted to avoid dealing firmly and decisively with abusers who have been entrusted with pastoral care and responsibility, apart from the difficulties entailed in ensuring just process for those accused, and protecting victims and vulnerable people, apart from sheer ignorance and incompetence in handing exceptional matters with discipline and discretion. Dealing in confidence with abusive clergy, with no accountability for what disciplinary measures were taken, if any, then sending them on to work elsewhere with their past record hidden under the Seal, seems irresponsible to say the least. What drives such a conspiracy of silence on the part of church leadership may be more basic even than damage to the reputation of the church.

In an era of substantial decline in the number of ministers to serve even a declining constituency of believers, the fear of barring abusive clergy from public ministry for being a risk to those they serve imposes an even greater burden of ministry those who remain faithful and true. The fear is that with no pastors to bind the faithful together into a community with a sense of purpose and mission, the church will collapse and die in places where it is weak and vulnerable. It's not a decision to be taken lightly. When it's being faced by leaders at the top without consulting those who will be affected by any decision made, it exposes what is wrong with the way hierarchy is exercised in the mainstream traditional churches.

Since Vatican II lay ministry has developed vigorously in many parts of the Catholic church, world-wide, and in other hierarchical churches. Evangelical and Pentecostal churches have also sprung up and flourished from predominantly lay ministry. Pastoral care and nurture becomes more of a mutual endeavour than from the top downwards. What has always been at stake since the Reformation is the right kind of relationships between church leadership and members. This changes as society itself changes. We're still adapting, still learning what this means for our era. 

Communities concealing and not dealing with personal or communal violence within their membership or leadership are frightened to tackle deep ailments in the Body. And that has fatal consequences. Are churches now ready and willing to learn and act fearlessly to make healing possible? We shall see. It's shameful that it's taken the long arm of secular law enforcement to shed light upon this matter.

If Dewi Sant was with us today, in a gathering of the faithful, would he be recognisable before he stepped out of the crowd to proclaim the world. I don't think that Celtic Christians were devoted to wearing status garments borrowed by ancient Western church leaders from civil society. I don't think that Celtic monks adopted wearing monastic habits either, no matter how often religious art portrays it anachronistically. I'd like to think you could work out who he was in a group, as he'd be the one who would listen more than he spoke, answered when asked, and always with a warm smile.

    

   

Quiet snowy Dydd Gwyl Dewi

Well, some days after the rest of the country, snow arrived this morning, fine powdery snow, as the temperature is still 3-4C below zero. After breakfast, our new hot water and central heating system stopped abruptly, displaying an error message. We phoned Matt, the heating engineer who'd installed it back in January, who was able to inform us that the error message indicated that a pipe attached to the boiler which drains away water produced by the combustion process was most probably frozen outside in these prolonged extreme conditions.

He explained how the plastic outflow pipe was attached to a flexible hose beneath the unit, and was detachable. Within minutes, I'd worked the plastic pipe loose, allowing the accumulated water to be released, and the boiler fired up instantly, thank heavens. Clare wrapped a thin strip of cloth around the now-leaking plastic pipe, to wick away the water into a bucket below. Matt told us he already had ten rescue calls for the day, and was relieved not to have to visit us.

We walked to St John's Canton where I was due to celebrate our national Patron Saint's feast day. We had been warned that none of the regulars would turn up, but as we were out and about, we went anyway, just in case. Normally at St John's, I wouldn't suggest a service in Welsh, as worshippers are for the most part unfamiliar with the language or liturgy in Welsh. Since it was just Clare and I, we used the 1984 Welsh Language Eucharist, something I haven't often done over the years. Only when I was working for USPG and visiting Welsh language parishes did I learn the Welsh language rite. Although I'm rusty and still have trouble with pronunciation and the rhythm of words here and there, it seemed a good opportunity to do justice to the day.

Before lunch, we went for a bracing walk across Llandaff Fields before lunch, and although we were well dressed for the weather (I still use my 20 year old ski jacket), the stiff wind blowing from the east quickly chilled us to the bone, so we soon returned home. I took several photos while we were out, and more from indoors during the rest of the day,  but there was no need to venture out again. So relieved and grateful it wasn't difficult to get the heating going again.

Run up to Lent

An early start, celebrating the eight o'clock Eucharist of Transfiguration Sunday at St Catherine's, and then on to St German's for the eleven o'clock Mass. After lunch we drove up to Kenilworth, taking Rhiannon home ready to start school after her half term break. Clare will stay for the week to look after her while Mum and Dad complete their final Wriggledance tour dates with 'The Colour of Me' show. It's been a huge success, playing to full houses of parent and their pre-school children all over England.

We had an interesting conversation with Kath and Ant about the variety of responses they received from audiences in different regions of the country. In some places they experienced more responsiveness and greater interaction between children and dances, in others, children were more passive and inhibited about joining in, a variation which suggests that kindergarten educational culture, also possibly child development are far from uniform across the regions. It's a challenge to them as performers. Even so the appreciation of their show was warm and enthusiastic wherever they went, and this despite some of the technical problems they had with equipment on some occasions.

After Rhiannon left for school Monday morning, Clare and I drove over to Selly Park in Birmingham to see our old friend and neighbour from when we lived there, when I was St Francis Hall Student Chaplain at the University of Birmingham, from 1972-75. Over forty years later and St Francis Hall is still open for business as a multi-faith centre with four campus chaplains, an Anglican, a Methodist, and two Roman Catholic, plus a dozen part timers representing the world's faiths and other Christian denominations. In my day, there were six in the chaplaincy ministry team, and less than half the number of students there are now. It's amazing that it continues to thrive, as its web presence indicates. 

Because our two daughters grew up with Angela and Tom's youngest daughters as near neighbours, we kept in touch over the 42 years since we moved on. Angela now 88, came to our Golden Wedding anniversary with daughter Lydia, and it was a great opportunity to go and visit her, as it's only a three quarters of an hour drive from Kenilworth. The houses in Bournbrook Road have long back gardens, and beyond them, a secluded wooded area with a pond. It was wonderful to see that it remains much as we remembered it, having escaped urban development altogether. I believe the land may be owned by the Cadbury Estate and designated as a conservation area. Angela cooked lunch for us, pasta with a tomato and asparagus sauce - which has given me a new idea to try out when I next have opportunity. Her mind is still active and lively. She reads a lot, including the Tablet and the Catholic Herald, and is keen to discuss current affairs and social issues. Being with her was an inspiration, and made me wonder what I'll be like, if I live that long.

It was dark by the time we got back to Kenilworth, and Kath had supper ready for us. We were in bed earlier than usual for Clare and I, simply because Kath, Anto and Rhiannon must be early risers during school terms. After breakfast, I drove back home, to have the afternoon free to prepare for the evening Mass at St German's in honour of Dewi Sant, kept a day early in the Church in Wales because of its rare co-incidence with Ash Wednesday tomorrow.

There were fourteen of us for the Sung Mass, and we sat in choir, making the most of the wonderful acoustic of the church for some unaccompanied singing. Afterwards there was a Shrove Tuesday party in the church hall. I went into the kitchen to see if I could give a hand waiting on people, but at that moment several people were making drinks, and the stove was on with a couple of frying pans heating up with melted butter in them un-tended at that moment. I stepped in and managed the pans to stop the butter from burning. Then a large jug of batter appeared, so I poured some into both pans and started cooking pancakes. More by luck than judgement, the first two turned out OK, so I carried on cooking. Nobody came in to take over, so I just kept going, soon graduating to a third plan, cooking three at a time until there was no more batter left, and I'd done over forty, much to my own surprise. Sure I have cooked pancakes before, but never so many in one go!

An unusual conclusion to my Mardi Gras.

  

Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant

We had a quiet Saturday, with a brief shopping excursion together into town, ending with tea in John Lewis'. I bought a couple of re-chargeable battery chargers in Currys, for Ashley to use on the move, since he uses his phone that much when he's away from the office, a backup charging solution is needed. It will be interesting to see how useful this is in practice. The France-Wales international was on TV in many shops and in all the pubs, which were rammed. The second half had just started when we got home, so I watched, something I rarely do. Glad Wales won, with St David's Day tomorrow

Before cooking the usual weekend paella for supper, I went through the process of ordering new .cymru and .wales domain names for CBS and the Business Crime Reduction Partnership to use, linked to websites old and new that I've built. Now there's patriotic for you now ... We've had just one domain name for the original CBS website, linked to our British Telecom Account. It worked until about nine months ago, when the weblink was interrupted for no apparent reason. BT wouldn't give us access to control the .org.uk domain name which we owned, and getting it fixed by whoever is responsible in the right department is so complex and elusive we had better things to do than wait for ages on hold in phone queues to find them. Now we have a fresh start and with a new domain name providor, more control. Providing it all works as it's meant to. The new domains go live tomorrow.

This morning, I walked to Llandaff for the Cathedral Sung Eucharist at eleven, with a Schubert Mass in G and a favourite Purcell Anthem, 'Thou knowest Lord the secrets of our hearts'. I went to switch off my phones as I arrived and notice an email from our Swiss friend Claudine working in Myanmar, announcing with astonishment that she's been roped in to sing some hymns in Welsh with an expat choir in Yangon for a celebration of St David's Day. I couldn't stop smiling about this during the service, plus the fact that I was sitting at the front of a nave bathed in sunlight. There must have been a hundred and fifty in church. This congregation has doubled in the past six months. 

Good liturgy in a simple, relaxed, solemn style with decent preaching and renewed choral leadership are commending the value of a traditional worship format in modern language. Sure, the majority of the congregation are older people, but there's an increasing number of older people in society as well as among church attenders. Many are thoughtful, and too discriminating to put up with dumbed down services. It's been hard enough for most of their lives to keep the faith in wayward times. They have many strengths and gift to bring to the church's mission. They need nourishment and inspiration to make sure they don't feel like strangers in their own place.

In town there was the usual St David's day parade, and the Welsh Guards were on parade in the Millennium Plaza, looking smart and sober in their winter greatcoats and busbies, according to the news photos. But both events co-incided with worship. As far as I'm concerned, if worship doesn't get priority, the rest of the celebration is sentiment and vanity.

   

St David's Day absentee

Today, I had a morning meeting at a pasteleria in La Cala village. I didn´t know exactly where the shop was, but googled the name and that produced an address and location. When I arrived there, I was quite annoyed to find myself in a cul de sac without shops. I could only conclude that the retaill outlet had a separate business address in a private dwelling. My host rang me and we arranged to meet outside the church, and then we walked to the shop, which was much further from the centre of the village than I'd expected. The village, in fact, was twice as big as I'd understood it to be.

La Cala has developed westwards lately along the line of the beach. On the east side the beach ends in a rocky outcrop, one of several along the shore, defining a number of sandy coves. Each trip I make into Fuengirola on the N340 I see colonies of Cormorants roosting on the rocks. One of these days I´ll walk in that direction and take some photos. Just behind the beach in the old village centre is a Moorish watch tower brick built, twenty metres high. None of the surrounding building look particularly old. With the exception of two ten storey hotels in the newer section, the buildings are low-rise, somewhat in contrast to other sections of this coastline. The village is hemmed in by the highway, so most of the residential expansion has been up the sides of the valley that runs inland and up towards Mijas. La Cala means 'cove'. It's one of the several points of access from the sea to the old village of Mijas nearly a thousand feet above.

In the afternoon I went up to Alhaurin to join in the children's Mustard Seed Club pre-Lenten activity session in the cemetery chapel, all around the theme of Christ's temptations. Once more it was beautifully organised. There were fourteen children and about twenty adults present all told. I got to accompany the singing of Frere Jacques with Lenten words on my guitar, and we ended up by eating pancakes. These had been purchased in a big freezer pack from Mercadona, and thawed conveniently for use on the day, rather than a pancake making production line being set up. There's no kitchen at the cemetery chapel, only a toilet, A kitchen would be too much to ask.

I had to call into the church office on my way back as I hadn't yet had an opportunity to print a copy of my sermon. When I arrived I found I didn't have my office keys, so I had to call Jim and ask him to come over and let me in, which he did graciously. I enjoyed the outing to Alhaurin, but I haven't yet found a way to drive with comfortable ease while my back mends, so I was quite tired on my return, too tired to contemplate attending the St David's Day evening concert in the Fuengirola Salon de Varietes, and pleased I'd found time to prepare supper in advance before going out.

   

Welsh rehearsal up-country

This morning I had to drive to Coin to celebrate the Eucharist in the Iglesia de Cristo, but having forgotten to put by alb in the car, had to go via Los Boliches to pick it up. During the 35km journey I became aware of just how uncomfortable it to drive the car for any length of time, a tribute to their size and shape, sadly. Over coffe after the service, I was asked by Carol to teach her how to sing 'Mae hen wlad fy nhadau' as a choir she belongs to takes part in the St David's Day concert on Saturday evening at the Salon de Variete in Fuengirola.

All she had to guide her was a phonetic version from the internet. There are so many ways of pronouncing phonetics incorrectly, so it was quite difficult at first to get her to listen and repeat after me instead of struggling to read it. You wouldn't easily be able to get the phrasing from that as well. It would have been better to have the properly written script and learn how Welsh is pronounced. Anyway, it was rather hilarious being in a Spanish country restaurant singing the Welsh national anthem loudly, disregarded by all and sundry, even our companions at table.

When I returned, I pottered around the house, getting used to preparing meals in new kitchen, or playing with the dog in the garden, and taking her for a walk. We disturbed a pair of Hoopoes foraging on the track. Not much change of snapping them spontaneously with a dog in tow. Afterwards I walked downhill to the nearby Mercadona  supermarket to re-stock on food. I bought too many heavy things and had to work out how I carry them back without straining myself. It's not a bad exercise for an impatient man to have to walk slowly and stop to redistribute the load in order not to tire one side more than the other. No harm was done, and when I went for my evening appointment, Mogens Dahl the chiropracter was satisfied I'd sustained progress since Monday, so it'll be a week until my next visit.