Viennese New Year

A bright blue sky greeted me when I got up this morning. On my drive across town to celebrate Mass at St German's I was delighted to find the New Year's Day concert from Vienna being broadcast live. Such a cheery start to the day. We were two dozen of us celebrating the Naming and Circumcision of Jesus, and in honour of the 250 anniversary of the first occasion when John Newton's anthemic hymn 'Amazing Grace', we sang it just after I preached, mentioning it in conclusion. 

An unscheduled hymn was slipped in at the last moment at my request, having climbed up the long narrow staircase to the organ loft to ask Brian the organist if we could do this. As the readings were shorter than usual, the extra hymn didn't lengthen the service which normally lasts about one hour and fifteen minutes. As I left church and drove home for lunch, the Vienna concert was just coming to its conclusion with the traditional Radetzky March, accompanied by audience hand clapping led by the conductor. A great start to New Year's Day.

By the time we'd finished lunch and I'd had a short snooze, the sky had clouded over. I set out for a good long walk in the park, and slowly it began raining,, building up the further away from home I was. A wind blew in from the west making it fell much colder than the actual twelve degrees. With trees now stripped of leaves there was nowhere to shelter, so my feet and legs got soaked. In the end I gave up and headed for home in a moment when the rain eased off, feeling very frustrated and annoyed with myself for failing to check the weather before leaving.

After supper we watched a programme on BBC Wales in which Welsh presenter Huw Edwards reviewed the development of the movement for Welsh independence over the past thirty years, following its rather cranky start in the sixties with the short lived Free Wales Army creating a media fuss, while real action in the shape of the Gymdeithas yr Iaith's success in political campaigning for Welsh language equality led to equal status for Welsh and English in government communications and bilingual road signs, and then the establishment of the Welsh Assembly government in 1999. 

It took a while for it to develop and legislate on a range of issues relevant to Welsh life in education, health, agriculture and social issues but its credibility gained impressively in the way devolved health policy dealt with the covid pandemic, steering the course differently from the Westminster government, and to good effect. Through practical measures a strong case has been made for greater autonomy. The notion of complete independence is to my mind wishful thinking, but moving closer toward a national self governing federation with common foreign policy, law enforcement and state security seems reasonable to discuss if not aim for in future. Many young people seem to feel positive about such a change, although I doubt if many realise how complex further steps towards that measure of devolution would be, especially when it comes to economic affairs, give that so much of Wales's capital wealth has been expatriated over past centuries. Let's see first how far Scotland's independence movement in achieving its aims.

After this thought provoking programme, back to Vienna for a repeat of this morning's broadcast concert on telly and radio. Two hours of delightful music with some beautiful ballet performances to concert music shot on location, and an appearance by the thirty strong Vienna boys choir augmented by ten girls of the the Vienna girls choir, met by rapturous applause from the audience. I couldn't help wondering how the two hour live concert programme was broadcast with the midway interval of another twenty minutes omitted. Mention was made by Petroc Trelawney the Radio Three presenter of there being a shorter first half. I guess the first half was recorded, then played back with a delay of twenty minutes to fit nicely with start of the second half, broadcast completely live. Often during concert intervals there are interviews with performers. It may have happened for the Austrian broadcast audience, but either to expensive to arrange or demanding on the programming schedule to be worth bothering with.

After the recorded version finished at ten, I went for a walk around the park as the rain had stopped and I needed fresh air. Lovely music echoed in my mind as I walked. A great way to pass the first day of a new year, despite the rain.

Training postponed

I was in bed by eleven and woke up to seven thirty. My fit-bit app congratulated me for getting to be at the right time and sleeping the right number of hours. I can't remember when it last did that, it's so long. As the device was charging during the night, I entered the time data manually. Such foolishness to think that kind of message does anything other than annoy. I woke up several times in the night. Before first light, I saw the bright crescent of a waning moon rising in a clear chilly sky. Wondrously beautiful.

Thanks to early rising I was out walking in the park by nine thirty, clad my winter jacket, scarf and gloves. Recent rain and cold weather have accelerated the colour change of the trees, all are now washed with gold. I went down the Taff Trail on the east side of the river, and saw a cormorant perched precariously on the overhanging branch of the limb of a tree fallen into the river, and regretted not having a camera with me. I used my Blackberry phone, but it doesn't zoom into subjects much at all and the quality isn't good, but here it is.

While I was out I had a message to say that this afternoon's Safeguarding zoom had to be cancelled due to the sickness of the trainer. Thanks to the same Blackberry phone, I consulted my diary and responded to the request for a re-booking appointment next Tuesday morning. I returned at eleven and worked for an hour completing this Thursday's Morning Prayer video, then Clare arrived from her study group, so I downed tools and cooked lunch, and finished the job afterwards.

When Clare woke up from her fiesta we went shopping together, first to Wickes on Western Avenue to get dust covers for the kitchen, due for them remedial work on the plaster. We discovered that Wickes had closed during the pandemic and been replaced by a budget supermarket called B&W, We drove out to the B&Q superstore at Culverhouse Cross to get what we needed, but not before a visit to Aldi's for the week's grocery shopping. We both observed that it's a long time since we did anything quite so domestic together, and certainly by car, as normally we walk to the shops locally.

Having agreed with Brian the organist a possible programme for an Advent Sunday Mass with a RWCMD choir singing at Saint Germans, I sent our proposals to Andrea for consideration. It's not as big a challenge as last Sunday's, but that will probably be welcomed, as it's only a week after a special afternoon music by students who have been rehearsing in church all term. 

I had intended to go to this evening's All Soul's Mass at St Luke's, but got distracted by other things I was doing after returning from the shops and ended not going, rather than turning up late. We watched some old comedy programmes on telly after supper and then a really interesting documentary about the remarkable paintings of Vermeer on Sky Arts. 

Now, early to bed, as I have a ten o'clock Mass at St German's tomorrow morning, with a class of children from Tredegarville School attending, young kids for whom this will be a new experience as the 'class Masses' stopped for the past eighteen months of the pandemic.

Musical adventure

Yesterday, I had an email from Andrea Brown confirming that a group of students from the Royal Welsh College would come and sing a Byrd four part Mass and a motet at our All Saints' Sunday Mass on the weekend,  in response to a proposal I put to her recently. It's a challenge for one of their conducting students who is Chinese and unfamiliar with Christian liturgy, but keen nevertheless to experience what may normally be performed at a concert in the setting for which it was written. 

I found a suitable copy of the liturgical text and annotated it to indicate where each piece of music comes. Hopefully there'll be a chance for a face to face briefing before the pre-service rehearsal happens. Clare and Ann left me and walked east along the coast path. Later I caught up with them on the headland overlooking the harbour, and we went for a cup of tea in the East Quay arts centre below.

Kath arrived at six after spending the weekend with Owain and then driving down from Bath, where they'd spent the afternoon enjoying the spa waters. She's going to be with us until Thursday, as some film extra work she was recruited for failed to materialise for logistic reasons. The four of us had a lovely evening, eating and catching up, as Ann and Kath haven't seen each other since well before the pandemic.

After breakfast this morning, I drove Ann to Taunton Station for her 10h40 train back to Felixstowe. I was pleased to find my way there from memory without needing to consult a map, or Google.  We received a message from her just after three to say she'd arrived home. Remarkably nowadays Taunton to Paddington takes two hours, about the same as the run to Cardiff, thanks to line electrification. Liverpool Street to Felixstowe takes three hours and is half the distance. It's very much a rural stopping train service to East Anglia.

After lunch we walked west on the coast path as far as we could, to the place where a stretch of it has been closed because of a cliff collapse. It was very hilly, and good exercise. We had tea in Watchet's East Quay arts centre again, as we did yesterday with Ann before returning for another pleasant evening of catch-up with Kath. 

Supper in Easton

This morning I went to St German's to celebrate Mass. Clare drove me there and then went on by car to the School of Optometry to collect a new pair of specs. It was good to have an opportunity to observe the feast of the Transfiguration a day late, as there wasn't a service I could get to yesterday. Peter gave me a lift into town afterwards and I caught a bus home from there.

There was a letter from HSBC waiting for me in the post when I returned, containing the remaining
balance of the closed Cardiff Crime Limited account in the form of an up to date cheque. This will be used to balance the books, and dissolve CCL, finally owing nothing, and with nothing left over. It was advice from someone who didn't understand the Cardiff RadioNet setup, which led us to believe we needed to establish a 'not for profit' company alongside the business to fund the BCRP business crime manager role. It was a sledgehammer to crack a nut, a waste of time and energy, but at last we have closure, ahead of winding up Cardiff Business Safe.

Late afternoon, Rachel, Clare and I went to Bristol by train, benefiting from a group ticket offer which gave us three tickets for the price of two. Our train stopped in Lawrence Hill station, where Owain met us, as he'd just finished work. The DVSA office is five minutes walk from the station and he lives ten minutes away. He was pleased to have an opportunity to show Rachel his new abode, and for Mum to adjust his curtains, now equipped with blackout material, thanks to her extra efforts.

We'd agreed to go out for a meal together, so we walked a mile from his neighbourhood across to St Mark's Road in Easton, to a recommended Indian diner called Thali, serving an excellent selection of spicy food - not too hot - set out on a tray in small portion dishes, offering a variety of different tastes around one's key dish of choice, whether meat, fish or vegetarian. This way of serving is what is apparently known as a Thali in India. We were delighted with the food we tried, and walking there certainly gave us an appetite.

The restaurant is only a few hundred yards from Stapleton Road station, so it was possible for us to check for a return train time to coincide with finishing the meal and getting back to Cardiff not too late. There wasn't an outbound train stopping there at this time of night, so we had to take an train going into Bristol Temple Meads to pick up a Cardiff train. We were very lucky, as a long distance train bound for Cardiff had just arrived twenty minutes late. Instead of having to wait until nine for the next scheduled train, we were on our way half an hour early, and reached home by ten.

Sunday reunions

I was up before the alarm went off this morning, set to ensure I'd get to St Catherine's in good time to celebrate the eight o' clock. There were eight of us present, Clare included. I was was joined at the altar by Sam, one of two students on parish placement in Canton for two years of his training in the new St Padarn's Institute, which amalgamates existing ministry training centres of the Church in Wales in a comprehensive organisation aiming to meet the needs of a variety of students with different background experience and ages. He's just started ministry after two formative years as a member of a community under a Benedictine inspired rule living the Parish of Abergavenny, one positive innovation to occur in the Welsh church in recent years.

One the way back afterwards we bought breakfast croissants in the Coop, which I notice has gone through another re-branding re-imaging exercise since I've been away. I wonder what that cost them I why it was thought necessary to revert to something nearer to what used to be the recognisable brand identity?

We ate together in a leisurely way afterwards, before I had to set off to celebrate the St German's Solemn Mass. It was a delight to be welcomed back and step back into a familiar pattern of ritual and worship with a congregation I know well. I love the sense of praying with the people there. So often as a locum priest still getting to know the ways of different congregations, I feel like I'm taking a service for them and it's not quite the same. It's the difference between dancing with a familiar partner and having to learn to dance with someone new. No matter how skilled you may be at adapting, that special sense of spiritual intimacy only grows with familiarity.

Afterwards, I left immediately, to drive straight out of town to the Country House Hotel, Thornhill, to join a lunch party arranged by the Friends of St John's. It was a lovely occasion, re-united with many old friends from my time as Vicar of Cardiff's City Parish Church. Earlier this week I was looking at photos of church outings and glimpsed people who would no longer be at the lunch as they've died over the years since. All those people with whom I shared those amazing years in my final incumbency, I still feel close to, living and departed.

We left for home just after four. The sun was low in the sky and although Cardiff was in shadow and about to be illuminated by street lights, the Severn Estuary was still aglow and silvery with sunshine. It is such a special place to see the entirety of the Cardiff's coastal plain. After supper, we watched the fourth episode of 'Y Gwyll' on S4C. Another finely crafted piece of film drama, it didn't disappoint.
    

Midweek ministry

Midweek 'class Mass' again yesterday morning at St German's, with one of the younger groups of children. I used the story of The Three Children and the Burning Fiery Furnace, and improvised a responsive version of the Song of the Three Children with them. They rose to the challenge very well. Some classes are more reluctant to rise to the occasion. It's my version of Godly Play!

The monthly Ignatian meditation group switched to our house at the last moment due to a domestic crisis for one of the members. A couple of other members were indisposed at the last moment, so we were just three, and I was asked to lead as soon as we were gathered. I too the Gospel passage for the day from John eight, with Jesus arguing with those Jews who would talk to him, but were not disciples. A difficult passage to envisage, let alone follow and meditate upon because of its nature, but I felt it would be a good passiontide challenge. Each of us struggled but had something to say in the end. It's not something that you can regard as 'success'. Learning comes in many guises, especially about difficult things.

I didn't go into the office to work later, but eventually worked from home. I say eventually, because I'd just got started, editing Monday's Board meeting minutes to include two documents mentioned, when the machine I was working on automatically rebooted, following a flashed pop-up warning too quick to read, then spent an hour installing a batch of updates. I was not well pleased with this singular act of dictatorship on the part of Microsoft. Any time you lose control of a device like that without being sure of the reason is cause for concern that security has been compromised. When will those well meaning controlling fools realise that they are undermining confidence in their own system? Give me Linux and Open Source any time. Pity I have to use Windows for work all the time.

This morning I went to St John's Canton to celebrate their midweek Eucharist for St Patrick's Day, having received a late evening email from Fr Phelim to ask if I could cover for him. It's nice to help in my local Parish as well as further afield so I always say yes if I can manage it. It's also nice to be able to walk to church, although a lingered too long at home and had to take the car this morning to be sure to arrive in good time. There were fourteen of us, and I'm there Maundy Thursday in the morning as well.

This evening, over to St German's for the last of our Lenten Stations of the Cross with Adoration. The whole school is coming over next Wednesday morning for a special edition of the Way of the Cross, featuring that calypso chorus from 'A man dies' which I learned as a student in Bristol back in 1963.

'Gentle Christ, wise and good

They nailed him to a cross of wood.

The Son of God, he came to save

With borrowed stable and borrowed grave.'

Classic Car Funeral

Monday morning, I tidied the house, cooked lunch for Clare, then collected her from her train at half past midday. Later, a phone call from Kath revealed that Rhiannon had passed her Grade Three flute exam 'with merit', which she took the day Clare arrived. It's lovely to see her making good progress and following in her mother's footsteps. She was learning flute at Rhiannon's age, and still uses it to play occasional solos, as well as singing with their Latino band 'Sonrisa'. On one occasion, Rhiannon was out at a gig with them, and played a solo of her own, much to everyone's delight, and was perhaps less nervous about being on stage than in an examination studio. She just loves performing.

Tuesday morning, I took the car in for a belated MOT, as its tax is due for renewal by the end of the month. Then I walked over to Tredegarville School to touch base with the head teacher about their Holy Week school service in St German's and tell her the news about Fr Dean, one of the school's Foundation Governors. I walked from there to the CBS office and used our new on-line banking facility to pay out Ian's tax and salary for March, against a payslip provided by our accountants. 

Then I had a message to say the car was ready, and walked back to the garage to collect it, in good time to get to St German's, where the funeral of a man who was a friend of the previous incumbent, Fr Roy Doxsey was taking place. I'd invited him to join me in taking the service, such a rarity these days for two of us to share a funeral. David had been an engineer and classic car enthusiast. He'd owned and maintained the same MG Midget since he first bought it 45 years ago. His motoring friends turned up in their outstanding vehicles, XK120 and XK150 Jaguars, a Ford Cortina Mk 1, a Ford Capri, a Ford Escort RS2000, a MGB open top, a Triumph TR4, a Sunbeam Talbot saloon, and a couple more I cannot now remember. They reminded me of the collection of Dinky Toy models I'd had of such cars when I was a child. A dazzling display of old cars escorted the cortege from the church to the crem. He would have been delighted. My dear late departed brother in law Eddie would also have taken great pleasure in such a grand display.

I drove home to rest for a couple of hours before attending the evening's Tai Chi and Chi Gung classes. Just before I was due to leave, a lengthy phone call delayed me. Then, as I was rounding the corner into Romilly Crescent, a 61 bus into town was halted by the lights. Impulsively I started to run, although I knew it was most likely the bus would sail past me and the stop about a hundred yards further on. Fortunately, the driver responded to my gesticulations and compassionately halted, some thirty years away from the bus stop to let me on. This took ten minutes off my walk to St Mary's Hall, so I was only ten minutes late, if pleasantly breathless, and warmed up ready for the session.