Opera Matinee

I celebrated the Eucharist and preached at St Dyfrig and Samson's church this morning  at nine. This week I wasn't caught out by the different lectionary usage, as I was last week, having made a note the Ordinary time Sunday it is in the Roman lectionary is used. The Revised Common Lectionary has Transfiguration as its theme, one with which I am probably over familiar having got married on the August feast day, and having this on the Sunday before Lent for the past twenty five years. So, it gave me an opportunity to work with a different set of texts with the theme of fulfilling God's Law, Holiness and Perfection. I quite enjoyed that.

At lunchtime we drove down the Bay to met Martin and Chris for lunch at Ffresh in the Millennium Centre before a four o'clock performance of 'The Marriage of Figaro'. I think the production was a new one, as the scenery was abstract rather than naturalist, albeit the costumes were period pieces of the 18th century. It was beautifully sung by all the performers, and played for humorous content. I think the translated surtitles had a freshness about them. The movement and body language of the cast brought out the farcical nature of the script. Conductor Carlo Rizzi waved the WNO orchestra along at a very breezy but smooth pace, giving it an added dimension of vitality. The slow lyrical sections were played just right to let them breathe with emotion. Mozart would have been delighted,

What a lovely treat to share with two good friends.

Flood alert weekend

Yesterday, it had rained heavily at night and continued for part of the day as well. Dangerous weather warnings were issued by the Met Office. It was just as well I had a Sunday sermon to finish. During a break in the weather, I walked to Blackweir Bridge and took photos of the Taff, turned into a raging torrent with the water level on the west side so high it was lapping at the edge of the footpath. I'd never seen it so high before. 

On BBC Four in the evening a second series of crime drama 'Hidden', set in North Wales occupied the prime time crime at nine slot. The cops are the same as last time, but the baddies are a group of three disturbed teenagers up to sinister no good things. Very promising.

This morning, I was back in St Samson's again at nine, preaching on the 'Creation Sunday' theme in the Revised Common Lectionary. I was caught out, however. The parish uses the Roman Lectionary scheme of Sundays in 'Ordinary Time' with a totally different set of readings. I had to hunt through a couple of Lectionary books with scriptural indices to find the readings I was expecting and ask for these to be read instead. My request was  received graciously, and we started on time.

After the service I returned home, and then walked down to Pontcanna Fields to take a look at the state of the river after a second night of heavy rain. I heard on the news that the Taff had burst its banks and caused flooding up at Pontypridd, Nantgarw and Llandaff North, so I was interested to see what impact this exceptional volume of water passing underneath Blackweir Bridge would have.

Not only was the field between the footpath and the dyke flooded, but also half of the field a couple of feet above it. This was due to water breaking through a higher up on the west bank and pouring into the edge of the north side field where the dyke is not so pronounced and the ground slightly more level, so the north side flooded at the higher level and poured over the footpath into the south side. It was quite spectacular to see. The re-engineering of the river bank to improve flood defences was undertaken after Cardiff was flooded back in 1979. Apparently, today the Taff rose 80cm higher than it did on that occasion, so the work done was really put to the test, perhaps like never before.

There was a steady flow of people coming to see and take photos like me. The sensible ones had green wellies on, a few cycled through, and some like me risked the shallows and either turned back or got their feet wet. That's what happened to me. But I got some interesting photos, both yesterday and today. You can see them here.

Martin and Chris invited me over to lunch. One of their guests was a doctor friend from Martin's days as Vicar of Pontyclun, whose brother is one of the GPs in our surgery. The other was the recently retired Bishop of Monmouth Richard Pain, whom I have known for thirty years, through our shared association with Ty Mawr Convent. Neither of us can remember when we last met. I wasn't around when he was consecrated Bishop. It was a lovely afternoon of conversation, eating and drinking fine wines, just catching up and reflecting on ministerial life and the present parlous state of the Church in Wales. It was a respite from solitude which I much appreciated.

Creative idleness.

This 'flu has hit us both hard, but is slowly losing its force, Normally in six days I walk thirty miles. This week two and a half miles. I was worried that I'd find it difficult to get started again, but to no avail. Saturday and Sunday, three and a half miles each and no ill effects. Today back to five miles, and could have gone further.

Yesterday I celebrated Mass at St Dyfrig and St Samson's without difficulty. No terrible outbursts of coughing or snivelling, although at other times of day this was terrible. Apart from walking, I spent much of the day watching the remaining episodes of 'The Mallorca Files', which certainly improved as it went along.

Today I did the week's shopping, and in the course of doing so, gave myself a terrible fright. As I came to the checkout in Tesco's the zip on my outer jacket stuck, at the top, and I I had to perform a few contorsions to extract my wallet from an inner pocket. My house key and Tesco club card are on the same ring, and once I'd had it scanned and picked up my change, I then had to put goods, keys, change etc in the appropriate places before leaving the store. Somehow, in the confusion of not being able to get my top jacket open, I dropped the keys, and only discovered this when I was standing on the doorstep back home. 

Clare was out and not answering her 'phone, but fortunately a neighbour was in and I was able to borrow a spare key to get in the house, dump the shopping and then head back to Tesco's, hoping and praying it was the only place I'd visited where I might have dropped the keys. I was fortunate that they had been picked up and left at the Customer Service desk, so all was well in the end. I think that's the first time I have lost a set of keys since I lost a set irretrievably in July 2013 on an outing to Abergavenny with Mike and Gail. Funny how something as simple as a stuck zip can initiate a chain of events that sow chaos. 

The power of co-incidence and chance encounters is something I have found myself engaging with as I've been writing my ever evolving novel. We never quite know how anything in life is going to work out. Look carefully at what seems to be a predestined straight line through life, and in detail, it's often wavy, wobbly and almost broken. There's an inner logic to events and connections hardly visible at the time. Change is never as absolutely random as we think of it. I now have developed a full plot outline, and am finding that filling in the detail is less difficult than I thought, with new characters and incidents unexpected emerging from the depths of my imagination.

Spending a lot of time this past week in bed half asleep or awake in the dead of night seems to have given free rein to my inventiveness. I don't get up and write, but occasionally scribble down notes, which I don't use much later, as the ideas seem to prompt me to insert them in the right places as I am reading through and making an effort to spent time writing. It's decidedly odd, but enjoyable.

I wish I could write for longer, but sitting to do so for any length of time becomes uncomfortable and painful. I get so frustrated. It seems so unfair.

More remembering

I'm certainly not used to being out late these days. I was tired yesterday morning, and took a long time to surface, thankful that I didn't have much to do, apart from finish off my Sunday sermon. 

Last night, before turning in I exchanged birthday greetings a few hours early with Rachel in AZ. Today we spoke to her on WhatsApp as she was starting her day with Jasmine making a fuss of her.

Today is also the thirtieth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall, three weeks after I was in East Berlin with my good friend Geoff Johnston and seven others from Halesowen Parish, on our way back from spending time with members of the Stefanausgemiende in Leipzig, launching our Parish twinning initiative. It was the day Erich Honecker resigned as president. 

Being there in the DDR as witnesses in the thick of such dramatic events was a life-changing experience for both of us, and for all those present during those momentous days when demonstrations in the city reached their climax and precipitated the fall of the regime. The consequence for me was the desire that emerged which led to me opening myself up the the possibilities of ministry in Europe, ending up with our move to Geneva three years later, at the same time of year.

It was again late in the afternoon before I went out to walk and there was a distinct autumnal chill in the air. Across Llandaff Fields there was a mantle of mist a couple of meters think. I enjoyed finding out the best way to take pictures that reflected the beauty of the passing moment. Soon enough it passed as the temperature dropped, leaving the chill air clean and clear.

This morning I arrived at St Dyfrig & St Samson's church at a quarter to nine to celebrate Mass for twenty adults and three small children. The Remembrance Sunday observance was made an hour early, right at the end of the service. There's a memorial at the back of the church from the 1939-46 war with a dozen parishioners' names on it. I daresay that the names from Word War One were being read a little later at St Paul's Parish church, but today I wasn't required to take a service there as well.

With the Remembrance ceremony added, we finished a little late for me to drive to St Catherine's and join Clare there, so I went home and arrived in time to watch the national ceremony on Horseguards' Parade in London, a rare opportunity for me, and special this year, as it's the centenary of the first observance of Armistice Day tomorrow.

Clare had her study group n Bristol in the afternoon, so I went out early in clear bright sunshine, with my Sony Alpha 68, before she left, to make up for a week of walking just around sunset. I walked as far as Lidl's in Llandaff North along the Taff Trail, and photographed a solitary female cormorant in breeding plumage. She was on a ledge at the base of the central pillar of the road bridge over the Taff, looking lonely. Her entire front from neck to feet was as white. I don't think I've seen such an expanse of white on a breeding cormorant before. It certainly was a cormorant, to judge by the head and beak, however, I wonder why she was so far away from others, way up-river from their normal haunts?

People on the streets

I was up early again this morning, and ready to leave home for a visit to the church of St Dyfrig and St Samson in Grangetown for the first of my interregnum duties there at nine. It's only ten minutes drive, but the threat of early road closures occasioned by this morning's 10k Kidney Wales fundraising fun run, prompted an early start, just in case.

There was a congregation of eighteen 60-90 year olds plus a couple of grandchildren, welcoming, cheerful and lively participants in the liturgy. The church hosts the local Romanian Orthodox Liturgy, now weekly, following straight after, but there was time for coffee and a chat before I set out for St Catherine's.

By that time, road closures and diversions had started, and traffic queues, meant that the return trip took me nearly twenty five minutes. As this left me rather late to join Clare in the congregation, I went straight home instead, started cooking some meat for lunch and then went out for a walk.

I hope there are no more road closures on other Sundays this month when I'm in Grangetown and then returning to take another service at St Catherine's. Given the amount of weekend shopping traffic coming into the city, road closures due to sporting events are disruptive for many people not involved as participants or spectators. All part of 'live and let live' in urban life I suppose.

The Sikh community was also due to make a procession from Tudor Street to the Castle today in honour of the birthday of Guru Nanak, and the anniversary of their Gurdwara. Roads would be closed for this too, though not for so long. Last weekend was the Gay Pride procession around town to City Hall. There were Christians involved in that for sure, but as individuals rather than in a group. It's been many decades since there was last a specifically Christian religious procession of any size through the city centre.

Walking in the park again later in the afternoon I caught sight of a group of eight Missel Thrushes which is rather unusual. Normally you're luck to see a pair  I later learned that they tend to migrate south in groups to over-winter.

The art of interpretation

I had a funeral at St John's this morning with about eighty people present, unusual for a ninety year old, except that this was a woman with a large extended family. They didn't seem to know much of her early life and it was only just before the funeral that someone doing the funeral paperwork let it be known that she had been born in the large corner house opposite the north porch entrance to the church. It's been divided into apartments for a long time but may have once been a maternity home. That was a surprise to everyone, when I mentioned it in paying tribute to her.

The funeral ended with burial in Western Cemetery in bright sunshine, accompanied by birdsong, As I was waiting for the hearse to arrive, I noticed in the burial plot close to where we were parked an unusual headstone. It was about a third taller than usual, and the top section was carved and painted into the form of outspread wings, not angel wings, but rather the form of Dumbo, Disney's baby elephant in the 1941 animated movie, whose ears were so big he finds he can use them to fly. 

It's the grave of a child I thought, but it was the tombstone of a 22 year old woman - sure someone's child - I imagine there's a story behind this choice. It wouldn't happen in a churchyard, where forms and images on monumental stones are closely controlled, but this is a municipal cemetery and its occupants reflect a far wider range of beliefs and tastes, some of which make me stop and think. The Dumbo story is a sideways take on the American Dream - you can make it you try - this unfortunate creature finds he can transform what others consider a liability (oversize ears) into an asset (wings). Is this a non-theologian's way of finding meaning in a premature death? You'd need to talk to the bereaved family to find out. 

Funerary monuments, in church and in churchyards until relatively recently used symbolism from the Classical world associated with grief and mourning. Sometimes the sculpted head or even full recumbent figure of the deceased as well as images of saints or angels praying were above a tomb. Instead these days, photographic images of the deceased can be etched into stone or rendered in an enamelled vignette and added to the memorial. Churchyards, at least in Britain, and maybe also in other protestant countries, tend to be more limited in what is displayed, not nearly as diverse and exotic as secular graveyards, or for that matter, mainstream Catholic cemeteries in Western Europe. It's all an aspect of how we identify ourselves and where we ultimately belong in the human story.

I had a clinic visit after lunch, and much to our relief was finally able to re-stock medical supplies. My clinic visits are reducing to three days in seven now that healing is progressing well, and often I can get by with a dressing change once a day, which Clare can do at home. We're back now to where we were before the second op five weeks ago. We're still waiting to hear when I'll be called for the next round of surgery, which may or may not be the last. We'll see.

I went into town late afternoon and mooched around the shops for an hour before heading out to say Mass at St Dyfrig and St Samson's Grangetown. I was standing in for Dr David who, like the rest of Llandaff diocesan licensed clergy are visiting Santiago de Compostella for a five day clergy school. Already festive tweets and pictures are being posted from #LlandaffinSantiago. Despite misgivings I have about them all going to Spain to think together about the meaning of pilgrimage, I can only pray this will be a blessed experience for them all.

It was the Parish Mother's Union Corporate Communion occasion this evening, Afterwards a group of half a dozen of them were going out for what they called 'a belated Christmas meal together'. I liked that. We were ten of us altogether, and I used the next day's liturgy of St Matthias the Apostle to mark the occasion. Any excuse to talk about a missionary saint and martyr, that's me!