AI abuses teen girls

I felt the benefit of going to bed half an hour earlier than usual. It rained again in the night and was drying out by the time we had breakfast. The sky remained overcast for most of the day. I drove to St Edwards to celebrate the Eucharist, and was surprised when a lady accosted me outside and said how she appreciated my sermons - well thought out, informative, relevant - she said. I'm not sure I ever recall getting feedback like that before. I think she must be an ex-teacher to deliver such a concise appraisal. It's certainly what I aim for, and wonder how often how it comes across, but it's not the sort of thing you'd ever ask anyone, as if you'd fish for complements. 

Much to my inner embarrassment, several people thanked me for today's sermon after the service. It seems that a few fresh insights which occurred to me were fresh for my listeners too. More often than not, people leaving  church say shyly as you greet them "Nice service Father" and that's all. You do the best you can to convey insights that make an impression on you from the texts you work with. You trust God to do the rest and it's enough to know you've not upset anyone or caused them to walk out in protest.

The roads were quiet and I was home for lunch by half past twelve. I found a small bottle of Prosecco in the back of the fridge, enough for two glasses, and opened it for Clare and Ann to drink in honour of their forthcoming birthdays, while the veggies were roasting. Then a circuit of Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. 

At the far end, near Sophia Gardens there was a fund raising event for the Noah's Ark children's hospital appeal going on, for which, unusually dozens of cars were parked on the grass near to a long side-less tent. I wasn't sure whether the event was to start later, or was winding down after an early start. The river level had risen sufficiently due to recent rain for water to flow across the entire length of the weir. After a dry day it started raining heavily after dark, so I imagine the river will be even more swollen tomorrow.

After supper, we watched Antiques Roadshow. and then the final episode of 'The Woman in the Wall' with an emotionally dramatic conclusion, albeit a little long drawn out to my taste. Whether the element of the story-line about baby trafficking in the days of the Magdalene laundries in Ireland has any truth in it, I have no idea, but the portrayal of cruelty towards young women consigned to them reflected the reality of much harsher times and moral values lacking in compassion for the vulnerable and respect for their dignity, all in the name of a perverse notion of penitence and amendment of life, based on false spirituality which did great damage to the credibility of the church and Christianity in the 20th century.

A new story breaking in Spain this evening concerns the use of AI imaging to take photos of teenage girls posted on social media and re-render them naked. The perpetrators are young teenage boys finding that the lewd masturbatory fantasies common at their age can be turned into a perceptible reality and circulated on social media. Heaven know where such photos will end up. Needless to say, the girls and their parents are beside themselves with anxiety about the consequences of this invasion of personal privacy.

The police are investigating, and those mischievous lads are facing serious criminal charges as a result. Hopefully this will help to deter young people's use of social media for self-display and narcissism, and consider more seriously what is the real value of communicating virtually when person to person encounter is so much more natural and fruitful. Did AI designers see this coming? What do they propose to do to prevent such abuse from happening in the first place.

 

Rubbish Overflow

Humid with occasional freshening showers this morning, and a nice slow start. Thankfully, no traffic congestion on my 25 minute drive to St Edward's to celebrate the Eucharist with thirty others. I was able to leave straight after the service, as the post-service coffee and chat hasn't re-started, so was back at home for lunch by a quarter to one. After we'd eaten a splendid lunch, Kath and Anto departed for Kenilworth via Warwick Castle to collect Rhiannon from her day's acting work there. 

I found a review in my news feed of 'Ainadamar' in today's Guardian on-line. One observation of interest was that the pace and tone of Lorca's death in the mid section of the opera resembled a passion play. That rang true to me, as I'd noticed one line of dialogue which had intentional overtones of the Last Supper. After writing for an hour, I went out for a walk.

Clare met me in the park half an hour later, and as we walked down to Blackweir Bridge we were struck by the amount of bottles and cans strewn along the verges within a hundred yards of a bin full to overflowing midway along the path, over twenty pieces picked up within that distance. The bins located next to the bridge were also full to overflowing, a result of weekend picnics and no rubbish collections between Friday afternoon and Monday morning. 

After supper I wrote a constructive letter about it to Councillor Caro Wild and copied it to the editor of Wales Online, to see if this prompts some interest and action. Then I watched this week's episode of 'The Woman in the Wall', and read for a while before turning in for bed.

Given a voice by transforming tech

Up early today, although I had a late start time for the twenty five minute trip to St Edwards to celebrate the Eucharist. I had time in hand to do some writing and was disconcerted to find that my Huwaei Honor Magicbook laptop (stupid name) wasn't charging as it should. I tried both USB-C laptop chargers in my possession, but neither worked with the laptop, yet both worked delivering a charge to a phone. This led me to conclude that the fault lay in the laptop innards. I had two hours of charge left, and fearing the worst, set about decanting all the data stored on the laptop but not replicated in One Drive on the Cloud to a backup drive. 

It didn't take long, but robbed me of a tranquil start to the day, wondering about my next move, realising it would be expensive to repair, if at all possible, and maybe it was time to replace it. I bought the laptop in June '21 and it was probably around two years old then. The battery by the time I bought it lasted half the original length and the screen had a tiny scar, but it performed well. It's been my workhorse ever since.

There was a congregation of twenty six at St Edward's, including Jo a young man in an electric wheelchair who has been severely from childbirth. He suffers from part paralysis plus palsy, and cannot speak, but he is fully alert to his environment. He's in church every Sunday with a carer. I was completely surprised this morning when his carer re-positioned his wheelchair to face the congregation and held a tablet for him to use. He was able despite his constrained movement to work his tablet and deliver the epistle reading with a suitably reproduced man's voice. 

I learned after the service that Jo had started attending a few years back and asked for baptism eighteen months ago. I imagine advanced technology showcased by Stephen Hawking had given his intelligence a voice, and ability to participate in normal life un-dreamt of when he was a child decades ago. I hadn't been alerted that this would happen. Nobody saw fit to mention it, as it's part of the inclusive normality this congregation takes for granted. I was deeply moved by this, and had to overcome my inner amazement to continue the service as intended.

It was five to one by the time I got home to cook lunch for myself as Clare was at St John's attending the farewell lunch for Mother Frances. I took another look at my laptop, intending to see if there was any data I'd not retrieved before using the remaining battery life to wipe it clean. That was when I discovered the charger had been inadvertently switched off at the wall, by an extension switch I didn't see was facing a different direction to the other switches on the extension. I don't know how I missed that, but it's quite a relief that I don't have to worry about repairing or replacing it. It's charged normally and starts up the way it's meant to once more. What an idiot!

It was gone five by the time I went out for a walk, having sat down for a rest after lunch and eventually falling sound asleep for over an hour. I walked until seven, returning in time for supper and 'The Archers'. I was going to watch another episode of 'Lolita Lobosco' but found an error message and an apology on the Walter Presents landing page, saying their servers had been overwhelmed by viewing requests. Is this an indication of traffic generated by enthusiastic programme reviews, or a denial of service attack on this Channel 4 website, I wonder? 

Instead, I uploaded a batch of photos taken in recent days using my Alpha 68 with a 50mm prime lens in manual mode, something I've not done before. It reminded me of the years I used a Praktika SLR film camera, and got some decent results until the shutter started sticking during my visit to Jamaica in 1981. 

Then I watched the first episode of 'The Woman in the Wall' on BBC1, a crime thriller set in coastal Ireland at the time when terrible stories about the Magdalen laundries started to emerge. It brings to light the terrible trauma experienced, not only by unwed mothers robbed of the babies but other young women labelled as 'delinquent' by idle gossip in days when the church served as morality police in the community and some religious people with power and responsibility for the vulnerable behaved in ways that caused many people to reject Christian faith altogether. A harrowing story.

Young pilgrims in Portugal

Another rainy cloudy start to the day. Morning worship was a recording of songs and interviews made at the World Youth Day gathering in Portugal last week, with half a million youngsters getting together with Pope Francis and a huge number of Bishops and clergy from all over the world. The enthusiasm and sincerity of those interviewed was touching, and I was surprised at the warmth of devotion to the Virgin Mary expressed by some, as well as the love they had for the Pope and his teaching. Perhaps that had something to do with the theme of the week being based on the mystery of the Visitation, which was celebrated just as the gathering began. 

I drove to St Edward's in Roath to celebrate the Eucharist with thirty people. The choir of seven sing together very well so it's an enjoyable traditional Sung Eucharist. There wasn't any coffee and chat afterwards, so I was home by a quarter to one.

I fell deeply asleep in the chair for an hour after lunch. It seems to happen on Sundays that I don't sleep so well at night and the make up for it with a good hour after eating. We then went out together for a walk in the park. Clare did a shorter circuit than me and I walked for two hours. Just below Blackweir bridge the four Canada geese passing through made themselves visible close to the river bank, standing right next to the older heron, which was perched on a stone immobile and indifferent to the movement of the geese, within a couple of wing spans away. 

I think there are two almost mature goslings and their parents, to judge by the different sizes of the two couples. One of the smaller ones went on walkabout. The parents got restive and started to honk loudly. Within a few minutes the stray returned. There were several wagtails out on the stone island and an egret too, with a pair of cormorants fishing up be the weir. Only one of the goosanders was around that I could see. That's an unusual amount of variety in one small stretch of river.

In the evening after supper I watched a Finnish crime series, featuring the work of a newspaper reporter into suspicious activities which may be connected with the murder of a famous footballer in Barcelona. One scene took place in Spain and it was good to find that all the Spanish spoken I could understand.

Choral Sunday

Before getting up this morning I listened to BBC's Sunday Worship programme which came from Lviv in Ukraine, where Orthodox Christmas is being celebrated, according to the Old Julian Calendar, as is still the custom in Slavic Orthodoxy. Greek, Romanian and Bulgarian Orthodox use the contemporary calendar and make something special of the 7th January as the Feast of Christ's Baptism. Interestingly Bulgarian Orthodox, although culturally Slav follow the Western, rather than the Eastern Church calendar. It was lovely to hear Ukrainian carols and hymns being sung, with some beautiful prayers and reflection on the importance of celebrating Christ's birth despite the war.

After breakfast I drove to St Edward's to celebrate the Eucharist, expecting to observe the Feast of Christ's Baptism, so that was the focus of my sermon. After the service started I discovered that the service sheet of the day had the readings for Friday's Feast of the Epiphany. Too late to change it, so I had to ad lib the first part of my sermon and excuse myself for the confusion. Thankfully, it was well received in any case. And the Eucharist itself was very nicely sung by the choir of eight.

It seems the Church in Wales calendar allows for option of moving the Feast of Epiphany to the nearest Sunday as commonly happens with Ascension and All Saints these days. Clare said that Epiphany was observed in St Catherine's as well. I'm not sure there was a Mass in the parish on Friday Epiphany Day. Step by step we're losing the habit of putting on weekday festive celebrations. Encouraging the faithful to make the effort to turn out for them is an effort fewer want to invest in. 

I got back for lunch at one. Afterwards, Clare was getting ready to welcome her study group, so I walked to the Cathedral for three thirty Evensong. A notice board outside stated that there'd be a Sung Eucharist at four. I went inside and listen to the choir rehearse, intending to leave before the service started, as I'd been to the Eucharist of the day already. Then Father Mark arrived and came over to greet me. He reassured me that it was going to be Evensong after all, so I stayed for the service and so glad that I did. Two beautifully sung Anglican services in one day. It's a rarity these days.

After supper, two programmes worth watching - a new episode of 'Call the Midwife' and of 'Happy Valley' back to back. Then, I spent an hour working on the Lent study series which I'm writing on the Psalms of Lament to use at St Andrews Los Boliches before turning in for the night. It would be good if I can present the scheme proprly at tomorrow Zoom meeting.

After effects

This morning, I drove to Roath and celebrated the Eucharist with the congregation of over thirty at Saint Edward's church. I'm not sure that I preached here in my time with USPG, so this was my first visit. There was a choir of six who sung enthusiastically. The priest's musical parts were different from anything I know off by heart, and it was difficult to learn them properly in the short time beforehand, as the music wasn't very big and the lighting not strong enough for me to see well enough. I'm looking forward to this Thursday's cataract op making a difference. It's been so frustrating this past year. To my aronishment yesterday I had a letter from the ophthalmology department in the Heath hospital giving me an appointment date in November. It may be a pre-op assessment, or even a triage appointment. The letter doesn't say.  I shall wait to respond until I have had advice from eye surgeon Andrew.

I was home slightly earlier than usual, as people don;t socialise after the service at this church. I started to feel as if I was developing a dose of 'flu. Yesterday's booster jab starting to have its impact on my immune system. It was the new Moderna vaccine which protects against the original and omega strains, which my mean it makes you feel twice as lousy. After lunch I drove Clare to Penarth for her study group meeting, and came straight home, and laid low for the rest of the day, not even going out for a walk. I don't know of this will make a difference to my recovery rate. I normally make the effort when I don't feel like exercise, but not today.

After supper, I watched an interesting programme about art theft in Stockolm, and learned that 95% of stole art works are never recovered. This story was one of the rare successes, involving the Swedish and Danish police and the FBI, as two of the painting had ended up in America. And so to bed.