Holy Week, mostly in the pew

Another cold dry day with clouds and sunshine. Up at eight making breakfast, and listening to BBC Radio Four Sunday Worship, which combined extracts from a contemporary open air Passion Play performed in Trafalgar Square woven together with extracts from Bach's St John Passion. I would prefer it sung in the original German to the English translation which doesn't quite capture the harsh agony of the story in a way that matches the music. Apart from the obvious time constraint on the programme, I can't see a reason for omitting the final chorale, which builds from sad reflection to end in resurrection triumph. It was well done nevertheless, a welcome change.

I drove to St German's to join the congregation for Fr Jarel's first Sunday Mass with his new congregation, a full Palm Sunday liturgy, starting with a procession from the church hall. I was pleased that he preached a brief and fitting homily for the start of Holy Week. There were over forty of us in church. I counted four clergy in the congregation, with Fr Jarel with Fr Richard as Deacon at the altar. Afterwards I introduced Basma to her new parish priest, and welcomed him myself. Afterwards over coffee we considered how to cope with the uncertainty presented by the wait to hear about official confirmation of her residence permit, when she is so keen to be baptized next Saturday. It's hard having to wait so long for certainty but from the church's standpoint, whenever she can finally say she's ready to proceed, there will be a ready response.

It was twenty to two by the time I reached home for lunch kept warm for me by my ever patient Clare. After a couple of weeks recovering from a horrible coughing virus she went to the St Catherine's Eucharist this morning. After eating, I went for a walk with my new Olympus PEN, fitted with the 14-42mm lens bought with the OMD E-M10. It's a long while since I used it, as I prefer a longer telephoto lens. The wide angle lens requires more physical movement to position yourself for the best shot. It means a change of habit to get used to this. There's only a rear screen, no viewfinder. Even so, it's a nice camera to handle.

After supper I uploaded the handful of photos, did some writing and watched 'Antiques Roadshow'. Then I found a Spanish crimmie to watch, which is the latest in a series of stories about women in prison called 'Locked up'. I didn't watch the series when it first appeared on 'Walter Presents' a few years ago as I didn't think my Spanish comprehension was adequate, but now I find I can understand most of the dialogue. The fact that some of it is mumbled means I need to check the subtitles for details. The series was shot in the Almeria desert where many spaghetti western moves were made. The story is about a group of female crooks intent on a high status jewel theft during the wedding of a narco crime boss's daughter. It's presented confusingly, switching between present and past keeping you guessing, but is meant to be a sort of homage to movies about male banditry shot in the same area. Anyway, it's a good way to get my ear attuned before I go to Nerja, that's for sure.

Safeguarding re-training

This morning, after breakast and vacuuming the carpets, I made an effort to get out of the house and walk, to make the most of a sunny morning. Leaving daily exercise till the afternoon often means in autumn and winter I end up walking in the dark for part of the time. I'm not concerned about safety after dark, but not benefiting from the optimum amount of daylight.

Clare had started chopping vegetable by the time I got back, and I took over cooking a sauce to go with pasta so she could get on with other things. Then after lunch, I did the new Church In Wales on-line basic safeguarding training. It's a slight improvement on what I did four years ago, using the Moodle on-line learning tool. It's one annoyance is the use of backing music over speech with subtitles that has a catchy pop beat. You can't switch that off if you find it distracting. A pity.

I needed a couple of tries to get 100% of the Q&A right as there were a couple of small points where I felt the correct answer was debatable. There's no discussion or feedback. This is a training in compliance, not thinking for yourself. Hopefully this comes later, in the stage two modules. Tomorrow afternoon I do the first part of stage two in a zoom session. I hope it works properly. I hate having to do these things on-line. Will we ever go back to making face to face meetings the default?

Then I produced an edit of yesterday's liturgy with just the pieces sun by the choir. With the prospect of a similar service for Advent Sunday, I researched on-line for suitable music to discuss before proposing a selection to Andrea at RWCMD. We received plan for an afternoon programme of live music by RWCMD students on 20th November, a special thank you for their use of St German's this term. Clare is delighted as it includes an 'AmserJazzTime' hour at the end.

After supper and the Archers in the evening we watched a new episode of NCIS together and then started the slow journey to get to bed a bit earlier, and benefit a bit appropriately from darkness

Class Mass and a Llandaff fiesta

Fr Phelim asked me to celebrate the St German's 'class Mass' this morning, and I was delighted to be free to stand in for him. Apart from doing a funeral there in July, it's a year since I was last here for this service, and sat in the congregation. Storytelling with a class of kids in church and singing with them was always a favourite with me when I was working and on retirement locum duties. I was so warmly welcomed back by the regulars in church and the day centre. The highlight of the service was a child losing one of her milk teeth during my address. Everything stopped for the first aid kit to come out and a spare plaster wrapping found to slip the tooth into for safe keeping. Delightful! 

As this is St Dyfrig's feast day, I looked at Wikipedia in advance to fill in my knowledge gaps in his story. It seems he was born in a village near Hereford, and was a enthusiastic young theologian of the fifth century, who taught Illtud and Samson, and founded monastic places of learning, including one at Llandaff where his bones lie, since the building of the Cathedral in the 12th century. He was named Archbishop of Llandaff by St German of Auxerre during his visit to Wales to teach against the Pelagian heresy popular it seems among Celts at that time. If I knew that before, I never properly took it in. It was one small curious semi-historical fact to share with the children.

Fr Mark has asked me to take on another funeral for him, a week tomorrow, and tomorrow's Mass at St John's. I'm glad to be active. I find coping with my condition much harder if there's nothing to distract me. Telly is not nearly as good as activity, social or physical.

Again this afternoon, I was feeling pretty tired, so I had a siesta and then sat in bed catching up on blog writing, with a HP laptop which runs Linux on a solid state drive I bought and installed a couple of weeks ago and forgot to mention at the time, as I haven't got around to using it until now. It's amazing quick, booting and opening Open Office ready for work in 30 seconds, on a seven year old device, which takes about three minutes to do the same under Windows 10. I have another laptop to convert, but being newer, it's trickier to open up and swap out the hard drive, plus it's a damned UEFI motherboard, which also make sit fiddlier to do.

At four twenty-five the house was plunged into darkness by a power outage which lasted until five to five. I posted a query about the extent of the outage on the local social media 'Next Door' website, as I still had an indoor phone signal at the back of the house on my Blackberry. Quickly half a dozen reports arrived stating that the area surrounding Cathedral Road, up Penhill, and East Canton had been hit. I don't remember when this last happened, perhaps once, since we've been living here.

There was only the burglar alarm to stop screaming and the cooker clock to reset. The router came on automatically, but internet connection and our internal mobile phone signal booster which relies on internet connectivity were both flaky for several hours afterwards, and strange to say they only settled down once we switched on the telly, which also relies on the broadband signal. Not that there was anything on worth watching tonight. Talking of which, our Talktalk broadband has been pitifully slow of late. Speed checks revealed that it's now a quarter of the up and down speeds we're paying for. Must chase this up, as it slows photo uploads to a very annoying extent.
  

  

Musicians to be proud of

Yesterday morning I celebrated the Eucharist with half a dozen others at St Catherines. Afterwards, Clare and I went into town to visit the John Lewis bedding department for me to select a new single mattress to replace the less than satisfactory one on which I currently sleep when I'm in a single bed. Eventually we'll get one to suit Clare, and pair them up on the double bed, which is due to be replaced in the next year or so. These things have a shorter comfort life than we realise. 

Certainly as we get older sleeping comfort seems more essential, because poor mattress support can have a bad impact on body posture in waking life. It's something I've experienced in the course of my locum tours of duty, as I get to sleep in several different beds for extended period through the year. We get less flexible and adaptable, muscles stiffen and take longer to warm up as we age, no matter how much regular exercise we take. Good quality relaxed comfortable sleep, benefits soul and body, regardless of how many times you need to get up in the night and go to the loo.

This morning I celebrated the Eucharist at St John's and bought some home made marmalade and apple chutney to add to our stock. I had a call from Fr Phelim about covering a funeral in two weeks time at St German's, when he has duties which take him away from the Parish. He's also booked me for the first Sunday in October to cover his half term break. So far no autumn european locum duty requests have come up, so there's no reason not to be available for local duties if needed. Variety in ministry is still one of the pleasures of retirement.

If nothing comes up, a trip to Sta Pola to stay in Anto's apartment will be in possible. Missing life in Spain is already a feature of my life, despite summer temperatures here equal to those on the Costas. It's not so much about the weather as the environmental mix of sea, sierras and urban life which I enjoy.

This afternoon we went to a concert given by nine final year piano students at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. They played a wide variety of music from Scarlatti to Schoenberg plus improvisations based on pieces by Hector Villa-Lobos and Chet Baker. What gifted group of musicians, not just in terms of technical prowess but also emotional maturity in their performances. We came away moved and inspired. This truly is a world class conservatoire. So proud that this is a major cultural institution in Cardiff and for Wales. Plus, it's only half an hour's walk from home on the other side of the Taff.
  

Not Dewi Sant but Ash Wednesday

Today's first assignment was the Eucharist and Ashing ceremony at St Catherine's, with a congregation of eight. Then, after lunch, a visit to Tredegarville School for a simple Ashing ceremony for staff and two hundred children. As today is St David's Day, their morning had been taken up with the traditional school Eisteddfod. I full expected the children to be fidgety and tired with over-excitement, and was amazed at how relaxed, quiet and receptive they were. I explained what we were about to do and then taught them to sing a Kyrie Eleison I learned half a lifetime ago from the Taize repertoire. Once they'd mastered it, they continued to sing throughout the procession of children to the front to receive their black smudge on the forehead. This was quite difficult to achieve with perfection, as some moved as I was taking aim. 

With prayers, it was all over in twenty five minutes. The look on children's faces as they came up to receive, some smiling, some serious, some looking a little lost in the moment, was just wonderful to behold. I would like to have spent time just looking into each child's eyes a little longer than the few seconds each took, as is possible when I meet children at the altar rail to be blessed during Mass. For me, this deepens the sense of awe and wonder at the heart of the sacramental mystery, seeing them so caught up in the experience of Christ's presence in worship.

Before returning home to finalise a sermon for the evening Mass, I spent a while in the church hall trying workarounds to the problem of poor wi-fi connectivity in the building. A wi-fi range extender purchased has not delivered expected results. The fault is not in the device but in the location of the wireless router, in an office under the stairs near the entrance. There building has a steel frame and reinforced concrete walls, making it just about impossible for router and extender to handshake, except when plugged in at a socket in the lobby, ten metres away. The extender's signal cannot penetrate the length of the hall and backstage as the only power socket is located next to a steel and concrete pillar which masks the signal or deflects it in the wrong direction. 

A powerline network setup with wi-fi extender would do the job nicely, if only there was a free wall socket in office under the stairs. The answer may well be to relocate the incoming phone socket, in the main hall, along with the wireless router itself. This made me envious of the solution adopted by some Spanish telecom internet service providers, of having phone and broadband delivered wirelessly into properties to domestic handsets and routers through a domestic transponder which captures signals broadcast from an 4G cell tower transmitter or a satellite antenna in the vicinity. This is occasionally subject to outages due to electric storms or really excessive traffic, as when there's a key football match or major emergency, and everyone is attached or trying to attach to the network at the same time, but normally, its fast, stable and effective.

There were twenty of us for the Solemn Mass and Ashing ceremony at St German's in the evening. For the second night running, everyone sat in the chancel and enjoyed the acoustical pleasure of singing parts of the service unaccompanied. Each Lent these days, I attempt to do something that requires me to be creative and learn something new and not just fall back on twenty odd years worth of material stored in my liturgy and preaching digital archive. This year, I'm going to highlight the different Psalms which are set for use in the Sunday Eucharistic lectionary, as so often these are sung or said with hardly a reference to them, when there's so much to be said about the rest of the readings. 

Tonight, it was Psalm 51, which has contributed phrases to so many expressions of penitence in Anglican forms of worship, and the daily offices. The biblical texts is annotated with a reference to origin as a prayer of king David occasioned by the unmasking of his adulterous relationship with Bathsheba and his deadly effort to cover up his mortal sin. So often the prophets denounced Israel as an 'adulterous nation', as people's dalliance with the worship of foreign gods was considered in much the same terms, as being a breach of their covenant with God. Plenty of food for thought here.

I also wondered if there was some different effort I could make that wasn't just the usual routine of fasting, prayer and alms-giving, but which would push me into being more aware, more responsible. Often when I'm out walking I start feeling angry toward people who not only wander the streets at night drinking from bottles, but leave them dumped if not smashed in places where this could harm others, and leave the place looking ugly and uncared for. Often after football training or matches on pitches in Llandaff or Pontcanna Fields the grass is littered with discarded bottles and cans. Not all team coaches and supporters seem to be bothered about cleaning up after them. Occasionally I have collected a plastic shopping bag of stuff to carry to the nearby bins. 

It's immature and irresponsible behaviour, but impossible to police. So, instead of moaning and being resentful, I have resolved for Lent to make it my business to keep a bag in my pocket and pick up cans, bottles, takeaway cartons and the suchlike whenever I am walking anywhere. Having decided this at the Eucharist in St Catherine's this morning, I started on my way home, and collected seven pieces in just over half a mile. Some had been stuffed into boundary hedges, others balanced on garden walls, on waste bins, or ledges from which they could fall and smash. Two bottles that were parked on the street outside of Poncanna's gated St Winifrid's apartments lay there undisturbed since I walked to church on Sunday morning. Residents drive in and out seemingly oblivious of the squalor. 

Council auto-sweepers drive by occasionally, but they only do streets and gutters. Trash dumped out of reach seems to be nobody's concern. Well, if I can see it, I can do something about it, can't I? I don't have the energy to exhort others, start a civic awareness trend or a political campaign to extend community service payback schemes for delinquents to every city neighbourhood, but I can pick up what I notice, if I bother to make the effort this Lent. It is a bit of a penance, but it might help make me feel less ashamed about living in such a slovenly society.

   

Caerau Hill Fort visit

Our two local PCSOs turned up before Mass at St German's this morning, following through with their enquiries into last week's purse theft, hoping to get descriptions of the offender from two people who'd seen the man leaving on his bike. Afterwards, Hamid told me that his lawyers have until March 17th to lodge an appeal on his behalf.

In the hall after the service Hilary and Angela ran a dementia awareness training session for nearly twenty people. It was most informative and thought provoking. There are plans afoot to hold regular social meetings for carers and people living with dementia in 'Dementia Cafe' events at the day centre. The session certainly made me think about the different illness or injury paths that lead people to loss of memory in their lives, and understand how such a common affliction can be due to a great variety of different causes.

After a late lunch, I decided to visit Caerau Hill Fort with my camera and continue what I set out to explore last Monday. I took the bendy bus from Cowbridge Road to the top of Heol Trelai, and walked from there up Church Road, out of the housing estate and up the hillside, to where the hill fort and ruins of 13th century church and churchyard are situated. 

I was annoyed and exasperated to discover when I came to take a picture, that though I'd fully charged the camera, I'd forgotten to replace the memory card, and no longer carried a spare in my wallet. So I had to use my Samsung Galaxy smartphone camera instead. It meant having to learn how to use its touch screen controls, something I'd never bothered with before, and didn't particularly relish. The afternoon was dull. The photos I took of the ruins were adequate, but the general landscape shots lacked detail. Ah well, another return trip one of these days, I guess.

Much of the excess vegetation has lately been cleared from the mounds of the hill fort, making the site of one of Wales' most extensive iron age sites more accessible. The churchyard which is part of the site is fairly tidy, although one old tree had been badly burned in the recent past, and some monuments look dilapidated. The ruins of St Mary's church building have been made safe for visitors. Sad to think that this 13th century church, restored in the 19th century, then again in the early 1960's, only to be closed and de-consecrated in 1973, was stripped of its roof and secured in a ruinous state. 

Being on an isolated uninhabited hillside, the church has long been subject to vandalism, and thus unsustainable for modern use. It would be a great place for a hermitage. The problem is finding a rugged self-reliant hermit willing to take up residence relatively close to a big housing estate, with a busy by-pass road just below for a near neighbour. I wonder how many more remote ancient churches will end up ruinous before the twenty first century comes to its end?

   

The other Figaro opera

After my Monday afternoon walk, I was less stiff and tired than I thought I might be, but nevertheless was glad not to have much to do before walking to Tuesday evening's Chi Gung and Tai Chi double class in St Mary's Church Hall. Today, by contrast, was busy with the St German's midweek school Mass, then the Ignatian meditation group at noon, followed by a funeral at Pidgeon's Chapel straight after, just down the road from where we were meeting.

Then in the evening, we went to the Millennium Centre for the Welsh National Opera's performance of Mozart's 'Marriage of Figaro', definitely one of our favourite operas. I thought I'd be disappointed that it wasn't sung in Italian, but this particular English free rendering of the original is very good and gives added value to the comedy element, such that people laughed aloud more than they normally might. 

At the climax of the final scene, in a thoughtful and moving moment, the Contessa with a philandering husband, declares she has pardoned him, and speaks of forgiveness as calming troubled hearts. She who is most persistently betrayed. Just right for an evening in Lent, as thoughts turn to Christ's passion. Superb singing throughout. We came away feeling joyous and enlivened in spirit.

In the foyer beforehand we bumped into Peter and Mary Barnet fitting in a night at the opera in between a West Country visit and returning to their home in the Gower. Peter succeeded me as Team Rector of St Paul's in Bristol back in the eighties, and we've met up occasionally over the years since then. We also bumped into Bob and Mary Hardy, St John's bell ringers, attending an event in the concert hall. We've bumped into them at Dyffryn Gardens on a couple of occasions. Finally, we bumped into Dafydd Elis-Tomas in the interval. We usually meet each other walking to the Llandaff Fields bus stop, as their house is in a neighbouring street to ours. Sometimes we don't see a soul we know on our Millennium Centre visits for the opera. Tonight was a happy exception.

We decided not to book for the third in this season's trilogy of operas focusing on the character of Figaro, entitled 'Figaro gets a divorce', it's hard to imagine how something with such a depressingly post-modern theme could deliver delight in the way that Rossini and Mozart's offerings do. Just a bit too contrived a theme concept to my mind. There, exposing my age and my values. 

  

Sneak thief

I arrived at St German's to celebrate Mass this morning, to learn that only moments before Angela's bag had been stolen from the back of the church, by a young man who'd entered just after she'd unlocked, and feigned to look around, and then snatched it when she deposited on a seat for a moment while attending to other things. He escaped on a bike, and was seen leaving by others arriving. Everyone was distressed, not just Angela. For me it brought back angry memories of the serial purse thief who hit St John's when I was Vicar there. Every time it happens, you think - if only ...

After the service, two policemen turned up, having heard the news. Angela having reported the crime was presumably busy cancelling her cards and getting her phone blocked. Her church keys were also taken, but thankfully, Richard, one of the church members, is a locksmith with a shop in Clifton Street, not far away. So, by the time we were already to depart for lunch, after coffee and a chat, both church and hall had been made secure again. What a heart break.

Again nasty weather, no opportunity to go out for an afternoon walk. I was most amused this morning to learn that I wasn't the only one complaining of fatigue and stiffness after the Stations of the Cross. In the evening the first episode of a film serialisation of John Le Carre's 'The Night Manager' had its first showing on BBC1. It was beautifully done, and the setting time shifted from the original 1990s to the present day. Given the continuing relevance of its look at the illegal arms trade, this is no bad thing. The great novelist himself was involved in making this development. The critics are beside themselves with excitement about it. Justifiably so, I'd say, on the basis of tonight's episode.

  

Lent exercise

Wednesday morning I celebrated the Eucharist at St Germans with ten church members, no children this week as it's half term. Then I spent some time chatting with people in the day centre, before heading home to Newport to visit Martin. His 93 year old mother Jane was in hospital after a fall a week or so before Christmas and wasn't expected to survive, but she did, and last week was released so that she could be cared for at home, with appropriate support. A much happier arrangement for her, the family and the hospital, as she's not occupying a bed which could be put to better use for someone else who needed care they couldn't expect to have arranged for them at home.

Later, after I returned for lunch, I went into town and met Ashley in John Lewis' top floor restaurant for a sit-down with a cup of tea and a business planning chat, away from the office, and the inevitable work tasks we both get distracted by. It made a change for us.

We were both back in the office this morning for the monthly Radio Users Group meeting. I drove and parked in the basement, intending to spend the day in the office and then drive over to St German's for Stations of the Cross in the evening. Ian had asked for Microsoft Office to be installed on his machine, and I'd forgotten to bring in the disks with me, so I went home on the bus to collect them, and had lunch while I was there, before returning. 

I'm surprised every time by how long the installation process takes on newer machines, and wonder if having to install on a 64 bit machine a program designed 15 years ago to run on a 32 bit machine makes a difference. It seems to me that the CD drive doesn't run at such high speeds, as if it needs to take extra time to unpack and scan every item of really old software before installing. A two CD installation packet took the best part of an hour, but once installed it runs very quickly. 

There were nine of us for Stations of the Cross at St German's. Making the customary genuflection at each station was more taxing than I'd anticipated, as my dodgy left knee reminded me that the movement is not something I do very often. For years in church ritual I've favoured the deep Sarum bow over genuflection, to avoid clumsy movement and toppling over, and to protect the dodgy knee. I should have known better, giving unaccustomed exercise to underused and stiff muscles. The lousy weather this winter has meant that I've had less than enough regular exercise. I felt quite physically tired by the end, although undertaking this traditional form of Lenten devotion was refreshing to the soul.