On duty at St John's

A dry day, with sun occasionally piercing the cloud. Aware that I'd be back late for lunch, I started cooking a tomato sugo after breakfast to go with chicken pieces cooked earlier in the week. I went to St Catherine's to pick up keys from Fr Sion before the service for the St John's midday Eucharist. It's three months since I last took a service there, but I had no problem preparing the altar as nothing has changed in the sacristy arrangements. There were six of us today, as three of the regulars were away. 

On the way home I collected the veg bag from Chapter. The bags are stored in a large wooden chest in the courtyard. Recently a small chest has appeared next to it, but I had no desire to look what was inside it until today as our bag was always to be found in the main chest. But not today. Having inspected the bag labels in the larger chest twice without success, I wondered if we'd been forgotten, until I inspected the other one and found ours, much to my relief.

It was gone one by the time I reached home. Clare had eaten earlier, so I finished cooking the sauce and ate it with the rice she had cooked. Much to my surprise, although I slept well last night, I slept deeply for an hour and a quarter when I sat down to read my news feed after lunch. It's not that I felt tired, but I recall the same happening in times past after celebrating the Eucharist. I wonder if it reflects a need for the kind of space and quiet to absorb the experience of celebrating Mass, as it's rarely possible immediately after the service when the priest is expected to be outgoing and chat with members of the congregation.

I woke up refreshed and went on an errand to Boots to collect part of a prescription she'd been told would be ready after lunch when a fresh delivery of supplies came in. Well it wasn't. The delivery had arrived but not been checked or unpacked. Come back tomorrow. A wasted journey. Then I walked up to Sion's house near Llandaff Cathedral to return St John's keys. I spotted Clare walking around the periphery of the field about 200 yards ahead of me, and intercepted her near the far end, much to her surprise. A pause for a kiss, then we went our separate ways, and returned home within minutes of each other half an hour later.

After supper, I completed the Morning Prayer video slideshow of the recording I made yesterday and uploaded to YouTube. Then I watched some more of the 'Bordertown' series I started yesterday until it was time for bed.

All reunited after a decade

Another overcast morning. I got up early and went to the Eucharist at St John's to be home early enough to enjoy the end of a family Sunday breakfast. We were about three dozen adults and nine children, a healthy improvement in numbers since I was last there taking a service. 

Jasmine was expected to arrive mid-morning, but had to take a later train, after midday. How wonderful to have the two grandchildren and three children with us, for long enough to celebrate Owain's birthday with a special Rachel baked chocolate cake with fresh cherries. Sadly Kath and Rhiannon needed to travel back to Kenilworth late afternoon as both have to work tomorrow, but we had a few hours of family time with children and grandchildren all together for the first time since our joint 70th birthday ten years go. Here's a photo of us all together in Clare's garden.

We walked around Pontcanna Fields after lunch. After supper, Owain, Jasmine and I talked photography around the kitchen table. Jas showed us pictures of her end of year school photography project. Impressive artistic pictures of orchids, way beyond my capability, that's for sure. Then another walk around Llandaff Fields as the sun set, but this time without Rachel who went out to see an old friend. She was back again by the time we returned from our sunset walk. Gone are the days when she'd stay our until the small hours with friends she hadn't met for years. We all need our sleep as we get older.

Alarming awakening

A rainy day with occasional thunder and even bursts of sunshine. At two thirty this morning the painful nagging bleep of a dying smoke alarm battery disrupted my sleep. I got up and with Clare's help holding the ladder attempted to change the battery, but failed to get the cover off to access the battery. I gave up an hour later and endured the remainder of a disturbed night's rest. 

I woke up at seven, posted today Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp and dozed for another hour before getting up for breakfast. Clare contacted an electrician mate of Owain's, who was helpful explaining how to get the cover off, but I was still unable to locate the slot harbouring the trigger for the cover release. It turned out to be on the side of the device that I couldn't see without taking a dangerous risk as it faced the void above the staircase.

I had to abandon my efforts in order to get to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist, giving myself time to calm down and say Morning Prayer before celebrating. Thankfully Rob, a techie neighbour of ours came and sorted the problem when I was out, in response to an appeal for help from Clare. There were nine of us altogether, including Father Andrew who turned up at the last minute and joined us. I think he was in the back office photocopying unnoticed as I was getting ready for the service.

We had salmon stew for lunch, using the carcass of the filleted fish Clare bought yesterday in the market when I got back from church. Then I went for a walk, and returned at four to meet Paula to finish off the Easter edition of Sway and send it out by Mailchimp. She's got the hang of it now, confident enough to go solo hereafter. Handover complete, job done. A satisfying feeling.

I had an email from churchwarden John in Nerja, with details surrounding my arrival, and a wedding date booked in late May. He and his wife will take me out for a Chinese meal on the evening of my arrival. I can't remember when last I ate in a Chinese restaurant. It's many decades ago.

After supper, Clare and I went to St German's for the Maundy Thursday Liturgy. There were twenty of us on a dark and rainy evening. The traditional rite simplified with the transfer of the Sacrament in silence and then the stripping of the altar was very effective I thought. We got back just after half past nine. 

Then I caught up on the day's events in a rainy Malaga, dipping into extracts on YouTube of the three hour video of the arrival of the Spanish Legion by ship, the march to the casa cofradia la Mena, and bringing out from San Domenico church next door of the huge image of Christ dead on the cross, known as el Cristo del Buen Muerte, for mounting on its trono. 

I've seen the disembarking in the flesh, but not the latter until now. I also listened to an interview with film star Antonio Banderas talking about the cultural, social and spiritual value of Semana Santa activities in our radically changing times, and understood enough to know what he was on about. Then bed early to try and make up for sleep lost last night

Unfruitful?

Clare was up for breakfast before me, preparing for her study group meeting. When they arrived, I sat in the front room, prayed and read the news on-line rather than going out. We shared cooking lunch. She constructed the fish pie and I prepared veg for the steamer to go with it. It's funny how sometimes we can work together at the stove and not get in each other's way, and another time we can't. I have yet to figure out how and why.

After lunch I walked to Llandaff Cathedral and around the Fields for an hour and a half. The crocuses which supplanted the New Year snowdrops on the verges of the road across the top of Pontcanna Fields are now replaced by a prodigious growth of yellow celandines, in the past week. Later daffodil varieties still flourish but early flowering ones have largely faded away. Most of the flowering trees are covered in blossom now, and some have leaves breaking out of bud at the same time, producing an interesting mix of colours. I'm enjoying getting to grips with the Olympus PEN whose auto-focus is quick and sharp, except that occasionally it won't respond to a shutter press first time, as if it's making up its mind.

Construction work on the tennis courts to convert a quarter of the space into all weather cricket practice nets is now complete. It's an indication of just how popular serious amateur cricket is in Cardiff, with Asian, West Indian and British players. Groups play on well after the official match season end into autumn, and as long as the ground isn't too wet, a few go out and practice. A couple of astro turf strips marked with a wicket are placed in areas used for rugby as well, so a separate facility is going to be welcomed all round.

I returned home for an hour and then went out to St John's for the Eucharist, with a visit to Tesco's to buy our Foodbank grocery donation on the way. We were fourteen altogether. Fr Andrew guided us in a meditation on the story of Jesus cursing the fig tree, which was in the Gospel set for today. He asked us to imagine ourselves as a fig tree on a rural crossroad with Jesus passing by lamenting its unfruitfulness and condemning the tree to wither. 

I'm not comfortable with the idea that Jesus was a magician literally able to pronounce a death sentence on a tree, effective overnight. Interpreters see the fig tree as representing the children of Israel condemned to wither by their own failure to keep God's law, as happens in similar Old Testament parables. The evangelist portrays Jesus as divine judge acting out the parable. It's a symbolic rather than literal statement in my opinion.

I got stuck conjuring a single image, stuck between the fig tree sticking out of the garden wall of a house adjacent to Thompson's Park with branches hanging over the grass outside almost hidden by bushes, and a giant fig tree in the garden of a rural house I visited in Ibiza, so big it covered an area the size of a tennis court. You could walk around and through it but wasn't on any kind of thoroughfare. Apart from this, I got stuck with the notion of a fig tree with no fruit, as they tend to have fruit on them growing and maturing at the same time for much of the year, if my memory serves me well. 

The question is, do we see ourselves as unfruitful and withering away? Yes indeed, sometimes, but we can never really know how fruitful our lives have been. I couldn't imagine myself as a fig tree which symbolises a religious culture and its history. The question about fruitfulness does apply collectively as it's possible to review the past, but with a single person it's less easy. Think of creative geniuses like Van Gogh who died feeling a failure, unrecognised as the great artist he was. The service continued with laying on of hands for healing, then the Lord's Supper. I was left feeling bemused by this.

After supper when I got home, I did a little homework on the fig tree cursing story, then watched a couple of episodes of 'Locked up - Oasis' which has become more surreal and violent, suffused with reflections on the unforeseen consequences of treating others badly delivered by perpetrators. Is it some kind of effort to get inside the minds of cruel psychopathic people? Will I be any the wiser after the finale? Ya veremos.

Scan follow-up

I woke up at seven, posted today's YouTube Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp, then fell asleep sitting up until five to nine. Not the best position unfortunately, as it took an hour for my head to clear, walking to St John's to open up and prepare for the Eucharist as Ruth, who usually does this is unwell at the moment. Fr Andrew celebrated with five of us. 

A couple of times lately, a young woman joined us for the service who asked for a blessing at communion. She said she's a post grad nursing student, working on a dissertation. She mentioned cryptically that she attends church on Sundays, though none of the regular worshippers had seen her though I think I have, arriving at the end of our service with members of the Russian Orthodox congregation to prepare for their Liturgy, which follows ours. When I was celebrating, I noticed she made the sign of the Cross Eastern style - right to left, rather than left to right. Which was a small clue. It's good she feels able do this and is at ease with our concise, much simpler kind of worship.

Clare called to say she was shopping for a new mattress cover for the attic bed which got split during the recent work done on the roof and in the loft. Could I find out the depth of mattress and send it to her as there's more than one size available? As soon as I reached home I measured it and sent her the details. The loft looks great now that the new Velux window blinds have been fitted, and the paintwork touched up by Clare. Instead of dark brown fabric, the new blinds are pale great, which enhances the room when lit up at night with the blinds drawn.

I received a letter from UHW with an appointment for an MRI scan of my liver, a follow up from the gall bladder operation called for the operating surgeon, I wasn't aware would happen. It was booked for 22nd April, when I'm in Spain, so I had to call the Radiology Department and request a postponement, I was offered an appointment on 19th May, when I'm still away. The system doesn't allow for bookings more than two months ahead apparently, so I am obliged to call again a week or so before the date given and ask for another postponement. The lady I spoke to said she would annotate the entry to this effect. It seems that if an appointment is missed or postponed too many times, the patient has to refer themselves back to the consultant and go through the same procedure again. We'll see if this annotation survives on the system until the next time I call.

I cooked prawns with rice and veg for lunch. It was meant to be a risotto, but mistakenly I used paella rice instead of arborio. It could have been either a paella or a risotto. It was ready just as Clare came through the door, brandishing bargain bed linen. I was pleased with the result.

After eating I made a video slideshow of Easter Week Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube, then went for a walk up to the Cathedral and on to Llandaff weir for a change. Though there was a chill wind the sun shone through the clouds and walking was pleasant. I felt less tired than yesterday and walked further. 

It's strange at this time of year to have so much time on my hands, but with no preaching assignments to prepare for Holy Week and Easter, the only thing I have to prepare for is my first Sunday in Nerja. As my flight arrives Saturday afternoon, there'll be quite a lot to familiarise myself with in the chaplaincy house and getting myself to San Miguel on Sunday morning. If using a car is necessary, I need to know how near to the church I'll be able to park. The journey time from house to church may be less than ten minutes, but ten minutes walk across town may be needed as well. I have no answers to these details until I arrive. With time taken up by these matters, I'd rather have a sermon ready rather than writing one last minute. Already I've done a draft, but I still have a fortnight to work on it and print it off.

So, after supper, with nothing better to do, I watched the rest of 'Top Dog' and a few episodes of 'Bones', and then headed for bed, under the Spring Equinox moon.

Waterlogged

I woke up at half past seven and posted today's Morning Prayer video link to WhatsApp. After breakfast I made a photo album with pictures I've taken of the six Ministry Area churches and sent it to webmaster Gareth to use, as he's now got the Ministry Area website running. It's a work in progress, but which I've helped get started and am now content to let others develop as they see fit. 

Then I went to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist with five others, before driving to Danescourt to give Communion to Sandra, returning in time for a delicious lunch of pan fried mackerel with rice and veg. Although I slept quite well last night, I slept in the chair for nearly an hour after we'd eaten. I must have needed more. 

After waking up refreshed, I walked to Thompson's Park. Weeks of rain has left the open ground saturated. In several places the footpath around the top of the hillock is flooded with water draining off the grass. In the lowest area of the park, where there's a big boundary wall enclosing a street, there's a pool of water as big as I've seen in the winter rainy season, if not bigger. Once the rainfall reduces to a spring or summer level, it will take several months for this area to dry out, as there's a bed of clay beneath the trees there. 

The sun was shining but at 5C the cold wind chilled me so I had to return home for a warmer top coat, gloves and scarf. I continued walking in Thompson's Park for another three quarters of an hour to reach my daily target, the spent the rest of the day binge watching the second action packed series of 'Vigil' with a break for supper. A complex story of spies, drone warfare and the dark side of the British arms industry, and a warmongering conspiracy among top military officers in a fictional Middle Eastern country, actually filmed in Morocco, and Scotland. Hard to follow on times, as it switched between locations, but worth the effort for the questions it posed about supporting dodgy regimes, on the grounds that, if we don't our enemies will.

Outbound Bristol Malaga flight booked

I went to bed late and woke up early, posted today's Morning Prayer link on WhatsApp then dozed until it was time for breakfast. There were six of us with Meg, who celebrated at St John's this morning. After a cup of coffee, I sent to the Post Office and sent off my driving license renewal form. I feel strange about handing it in. It's invaluable, an identity card by any other name. The renewal turnover time isn't said to be long - unless it get lost. I sent it 'recorded delivery' in the hope that it won't get lost. I'll need it, and an International Driving Permit, when I return to Spain.

On my way back home I saw that 'Oriel Canfas'  contemporary art gallery was open. At the moment, it's exhibiting puppetry by Frankie Locke and Pete Raymond with colourful paintings portraying the puppets in their own realm, by Barbara Leith. She has painted some elements of her subject spilling over on to the picture frame. She said she'd have preferred to paint on the walls, so this was a compromise! It a way it was a statement about the power of stories which cannot be confined by imagination.

All three artists have a background in stage design and scenic arts with WNO. The puppets are carved from wood and painted. Sets of them are used to tell specific stories: Jonah and the Whale, Tobias and the Angel, The Owl and the Pussycat, George and the Dragon, for example. There's a Punch and Judy stall whose puppets are also depicted in proscenium arch vignettes. It's all beautifully conceived and executed, appealing to imaginative people of all ages. I found it most uplifting, a real delight, and all just a few streets away from home.

By the time I got back, Clare had returned from another session at the Optometry School and was cooking lunch. I got to work on finishing this week's Sway, which needed a few modifications, once I'd run it past Iona, rather later this week. It was nearly five by the time I finished and went for a walk in the park. It's getting noticeably lighter day my day now. Slowly we're getting back a decent length afternoon in daylight. I'm being careful to increase my daily walking distance gradually. I'm back to 80% already and feeling none the worse for it. I was fearful of losing fitness after lying low for several days, as this does happen when you get older, apparently. Lucky so far, it seems.

After supper I watched another couple  of episodes of 'Bones', and then got to work on booking myself a flight to Malaga. Nothing available with Vueling from Cardiff at the end of Easter week when I need to fly, so I had to choose EasyJet from Bristol, as I did last year. It's just a bit cheaper to take the airport shuttle bus from Sophia Gardens to Bristol than it is to take a taxi to the airport, funnily enough. I have a Saturday lunchtime flight, which cost a hundred and seventy quid on its own. 

As Clare comes out in mid-May on a date yet undecided, it may be possible to book flights home to Cardiff with Vueling, as the summer timetable will be operating then, although an early flight would be prohibitive as it takes an hour to get to the airport by coach. Or else stay overnight in Malaga. This has been complex to plan in times past. We'll see how it turns out. There's plenty of time.

EasyJet booking website annoyingly defaults to booking two flights at a time rather than one. I had to log into my EasyJet account and navigate my way to a booking page where I could book a single flight in order to avoid a very costly error. I think it may be a matter of deleting cookies to avoid this in future.

Anyway, I'm two steps forward in planning for locum duty. When I get my new license, I can buy my international driver permit, and some travel insurance, and then I'll be ready to travel. Now bed-time.

Year end busyness

Cloudy, windy, with cloudbursts again today. It's daunting, but I slept until after eight. I was just about to have breakfast when a phone diary notification reminded me that I'm due to take the nine o'clock Eucharist at St John's. I put that there a couple of months ago when the rota was being worked out as Fr Dyfrig had not yet been able to find someone to cover this, just in case. 

I wasn't sure whether he'd found someone or not, as I hadn't received confirmation that he needed to take me at my word. I checked with Andrew who was already in church trying to fix a glitch in the central heating and he said I was expected, so I dressed quickly and drove to St John's, as it was pouring with rain. There were seventeen of us for the Eucharist. We had a drink together afterwards, and there was toast for anyone who fancied a bit to eat afterwards.

Then I drove to St German's in good time for the eleven o'clock Sung Mass, where there were three dozen of us, and where the central heating also was not working! There were no refreshments afterwards, so I was home for lunch before one, which is unusual for me these days. There wasn't time for a snooze as I was to be picked up at half past three for a Carol service at St Peter's. There were a dozen of us for this and everyone sang heartily. It was less intense, more relaxed than the usual pre-Christmas carol services. We shared mince pies and wine and laughter together in the church hall afterwards. 

I wasn't nearly as drained as I expected to be after a three service Sunday. It's a long time since I've done that. After supper I spent the evening working on the document I've been writing for the Ministry Area Council to support them in calling into question financial demands by the diocese. A day of nasty weather stopped me from going out straight after lunch, so I went out just after ten instead and walked up and down Llandaff Fields, buffeted by gusts of wind, but thankfully no rail. The clouds were clearing and I saw Orion clearly, and clouds no longer obscuring the waning moon. I saw two people out there in three quarters of an hour, although car horns announced revelry in progress some distance away.

It's been a difficult year in many ways with a government unfit for purpose, striving perpetuate the illusion that its dogma has done the country significant long term good. A recent poll showed that the vast majority of Brits have come to the conclusion that brexit has not done the good it promised the country. No poll yet with people admitting they were lied to and accepted that a con-trick was pulled on them. Brits are a creative people with great strengths and great ability to live and work together with their differences, but perhaps still over-tolerant of the huge disparity between rich and powerful, and the deprived poor. It's time for the radical change that will do justice to all citizens, and give true value to the many qualities King Charles affirms in his addresses to the nation.

Support for Ukraine nationally at many levels this past couple of years has shown due regard for the very seriousness of the threat Putin's regime poses to the whole of Europe and the world. It's no nearly so clear when in comes to the situation in Palestine. Getting rid of Hamas governance is a reasonable aim, but the means are so destructive, the death of twenty thousand civilians can not be justified as collateral damage, or failure to follow instructions from invading aggressors. Netanyahu's people and Putin's rely on the same deceptive rhetoric to murder the innocent. 

Festive fireworks have started. The countdown to more uncertainty injustice and misery is upon us. Will 2024 turn out to be any different? God help us all.

My turn to make marmalade

Back to being damp and overcast today. I woke up as my phone reminded me to post the link to Morning Prayer for today. After breakfast a walk to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist with seven others, and pray for Pope Benedict as his funeral proceeded in Rome. After a cup of coffee and a chat, a quick trip to Tesco to buy some tins of butter beans, then home to prepare lunch, and make ready the next batch of marmalade oranges and lemons for cooking. 

I snoozed in the chair for an hour and then went into town, walking part of the way and taking the bus to hasten my arrival. Another visit to John Lewis' to check out a potential sale bargain travel camera, but on inspection I realised it didn't have quite the specifications I need to replace my damaged HX90. Ah well, keep on looking I suppose.

As I was walking up Westgate Street on my way to the bus stop outside the Holiday Inn, I noticed dozens of taxis parked along the other side of the road. I wondered what exodus after a big event they were waiting for. Then one by one they began to sound their horns. Other taxis went past in procession, also honking their horns and I noticed that many were flying a Unite Trade Union pennant from a window. The penny dropped. It was a protest action. There was a similar one held a month ago. The concern being voiced seems to be about taxi licensing fee reductions for electric car owners, an incentive to owners to upgrade their vehicles. Well intended, but many self employed taxi owners cannot afford to buy a new vehicle and end up being unable to continue earning a living this way, as their running costs are higher. Greening the economy isn't always as simple as we'd wish it to be.

After supper, I extracted all the pips from the cooked oranges and lemons, chopped them all up, added the required amount of water and an amount of sugar less that the recipe requires, so that the jam wouldn't be too sweet to taste, and boiled the lot for over two hours to reduce the mixture to a right consistency. I had to keep an eye on it throughout, so I sat at the kitchen table and watched the first two episodes of another series of 'Madam Blanc Mysteries' on Channel five, rather lightweight sometimes comic amateur sleuthing stories set in the ex-pat community in Provence. Well, it helped to pass the time. Check and stir every time the ads come up. Another eight jars of marmalade produced!

Soaked through

I posted my prayer video link to WhatsApp later than usual as I slept until quarter past eight. Sara was up before the rest of, making herself a mug of very strong coffee. She's a very early riser at home. I didn't go to St John's for the Eucharist, but was surprised and delighted to learn later from WhatsApp that the Thursday morning 'Warm Church' initiative went from no visitors last week to around forty today, many of them mothers with children. This may be a result of something spread on local social media I guess. I do hope the interest and interest continues and that something similar happens in St Catherine's and St Luke's.

Mid morning, we walked to the Cathedral across Llandaff Fields and got caught in an unexpected heavy downpour, which soaked my top coat right through. It stopped a few minutes after we sheltered under a tree which still had leaves, and we continued, feeling rather damp. I showed them around the Cathedral and told them something of its history and use today, then we returned for lunch, most of which I had prepared before we went out, and didn't take long to bring to the table.

It rained again on and off for the rest of the afternoon, and our guests were tired, and didn't want to get wet again, so we didn't go out again as intended to visit the Bay. We sat around and talked most of the time. although I did make a trip out when the rain stopped to buy a few things we were running out of. After supper Sara and Ebba went to bed just after eight, which is nine according to their body clocks. I watched the last two episodes of 'Wisting' on iPlayer, as it's unlikely anyone will be interested in watching this on Saturday except me. Then, after hearing news of the latest rise in bank interest rates, bad for borrowers but good for savers, it was time for me to turn in.

Unique performance

I woke up at eight thirty to post my link to What'sApp for today's Morning Prayer and reflection, having overslept by an hour. I listened to Thought for the Day on catchup, and was glad I did. Sam Wells, Vicar of St Martin in the Fields commented on Prime Minister Rishi Sunak's speech in which he talked about his commitment to 'fix' the mistakes made by Liz Truss. He pointed out how inappropriate it was to talk of fixing something as hugely complex and dynamic as a national economy as if it was as simple as mending a toy, or something mechanical. Better to think of the task in hand as one requiring time and patience, like restoring a river valley ruined by industry. 

A point well made, and a reminder of how careless politicians journalists and other public leaders can be communicating with their audience, dumbing down concepts and processes which require more effort to understand. An attempt to be enlightening can so easily end up being misleading instead. I'm reminded of this every time I'm drafting my weekly reflection or a sermon. 

I was nearly late for the Eucharist at St John's after breakfast. There were just four of us today. I couldn't pick up groceries for the food bank collection beforehand, but as the church is staying open on Thursdays until midday now, in case people want to come in for a warm and a chat, so I was able to go to Tesco's after coffee and get two week's worth, since we were away last week. It's been too mild recently to give reason to people not heating their homes to come to church for the morning. Things may be different if the weather turns really cold, but so far we don't know to what extent this will happen with unpredictable weather all year round.

Clare cooked us a veggy stir fry with mussels for lunch. I spent the afternoon recording and editing next Thursday's audio. We had an early supper, then walked over to the Royal Welsh College for a special recital. Renowned veteran singer Benjamin Luxon accompanied by pianist grandson Joshua, a student at RWCMD. Ben is 85 and long retired from performance due to hearing impairment, but he's still full of energy. He still performs as poetry reader, narrator, musical director and master class teacher. As he said himself, "Keep performing until you no longer enjoy what you're doing." I say Amen to that.

He delivered a long dramatic narrative poem called 'Enoch Arden' by Alfred Lord Tennyson. Richard Strauss wrote a rich musical accompaniment for its recitation, which Josh played. Ben's wife, daughter and granddaughter were seated in the row in front of us. The resemblance between the three generations of women was striking! Like them, Josh also has long jet black hair down to the middle of his back. And why not when you're a gifted pianist?

The performance was emotionally powerful if to my mind occasionally flawed by his pronunciation. Unfamiliarity with his Cornish accent however may have added to my difficulty in decoding his speech. I'd like to hear this poem performed by Welsh Actor Michael Sheen, who has similar Celtic passion and amazing clear diction. Also present was David Willison, Ben's piano accompanist for thirty eight years, with stories of his own to tell during the post performance Q&A. It was a privilege to be present for a work so rarely performed by a unique grandpa and grandson musical duo.

We walked to the town centre to catch a bus outside the Holiday Inn, and one pulled up just as we got to the stop, so we were home by twenty past nine. It meant that I could finish the audio editing started this afternoon, and feel satisfied to get that done nice and early. And so to bed.

Waste Land centenary

I woke early this morning, posted the Morning Prayee link to WhatsApp and then dozed on and off for nearly an hour before getting up. I went to the King's Road pharmacy at ten for my 'flu jab, and then to St John's for the Eucharist. There were nine of us present. Over coffee one of those present told us how the previous week he'd been in hospital on a drip for eighteen hours, a consequence of a serious imbalance in his blood electrolytes pushing his kidneys towards failure. This had affected his walking and his speech until the problem was diagnosed. It was due to the cocktail of medications he was taking for a heart condition not working together properly. 

It seems that medics treating him for ailments in different hospital departments don't feel the need to communicate with each other, or check side effects thorougly. His system needed flushing out of the toxic mess to restore him to normal functioning. Thankfully it worked. It makes me wonder about the modern world's dependency on so many kinds of medication when their combined effects on each individual can be haphazard and dangerous for some.

I returned home, cooked lunch, slept some more afterwards and then went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields. Below the weir there were three cormorants, one on top of the bridge pillar, two perched on rocks by the pool below the weir, and the young heron on another rock in between them. I got some good photos including a couple of the heron in the air, flying and just about to land. Sheer luck.

While I was taking photos on the far side of the river, I met a man called Paddy who told me that during the covid lockdowns he's patrolled this stretch of river with a video camera, observing the wildlife and changes of season. He's now in the late stages of editing his takes into a documentary. I told him about the thousands of still photos I'd taken in the same period, and still take on my daily walks. I hope to be able to find him on Facebook and see what he's made in due course.

In the evening, my laptop announced that it was ready to install Windows 11, so now that I've experienced this on my sister's laptop, I decided to let this happen. It didn't take as long as I thought it would, less than an hour, but then my laptop is much more powerful that June's, and cost about the same, second hand. While this took place, I watched the rest of the final episode of 'Inspector Borowski' on my Chromebook, sitting alongside the updating machine. A little tidying up was necessary, including shifting the Start menu back from the middle to the left side, and switching off a couple of redundant features. It looks the way it did before upgrade, except that the appearance of the icons has had a decent makeover.

Just as everything was finishing, a must-watch documentary started on BBC Two about T.S. Eliot and his innovative masterpiece of a poem 'The Waste Land' which was published for the first time a century ago this month. It drew on letters sent to Eliot by a woman he loved but never married, and the formative influence of his wife, and the poet Ezra Pound during the writing process. It was a fascinating hour and a half programme with various literary scholars commenting, and recorded sections of the poem spoken by Eliot himself, and Simon Russell Beale.

When we were undergraduates, Clare studied Eliot's poetry and occasionally, I went to her lectures to sit at the feet of Professor L.C. Knights and learn about 'The Waste Land', which I had also come across, though I can't remember who introduced me to it. It was all part of the opening up to the wider world which being at university made possible for a fairly focussed Chemistry student, part of my love affair with beautiful poetic words which has been part of my life for the past sixty years. And that inits turn has much to do with how I came to accept the call to ordained ministry, when it came to me out of the blue from a fellow Chemistry student in my second year. I might of got wealthier with a Chemistry career, but in many ways my life has been far richer than I could ever have imagined.

Double duty

An autumnal chill in the air this morning, and an early start, walking to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist at nine o'clock, with about forty adults and children. Then, on to St Catherine's for the ten thirty Eucharist with fifty adults and children. It's the first time in three or more years that I've done two Sunday services ensuite. It's good to know that I can still do this if needs be, even if it left me feeling pretty tired. I think I slept for two hours after a late lunch.

This weekend a couple of workmen have continued stripping the paint off the stonework of the house next door despite initial undertakings by the developers that work would only be carried out between eight and four on weekdays. They've been at it all week and it's been very messy as the protective cladding has been inadequate and not properly secured. They have tried to clean up after them several times, but have not been very thorough about it. The men themselves seem to have worked without masks. Heaven knows what it has done to their lungs.  We were told they are still waiting from industrial face masks ordered to arrive. This job doesn't seem to have been done with any on-site supervision of their work at all.

We questioned them about working over the weekend and were told that they had been given a deadline of Monday to complete the job, or not get paid. An outrageous threat. Clare wrote a detailed letter to the firm responsible for the project, and we agreed that a copy should go to the Council's Environmental Services team, as Health and Safety legislation has evidently been ignored, risking the health of the workers and the immediate neighbourhood with all that toxic paint laden stone dust. On-line the developers have bragged about the profit they expect to make, 'upgrading' number eleven to four bedrooms and three bathrooms. At what cost to the workers?

After my long siesta, a walk in the park, then supper and an hour in front of the telly before bed.

Mourning ritual

Another day of clouds, sunshine and showers. After breakfast I went to St John's to share in the Requiem Mass for the Queen. There were nineteen of us present, and the service was streamed on Facebook as well. Then I went to town, hoping to hear the great tenor bell of St John's City Parish Church, tolling ninety-six times to mark the Queen's passing. I wasn't disappointed. I met Ruth in the porch, welcoming visitors and alerting them to the fact that the  usual midday Mass was going on. She told me Evan Chapman the verger was doing the honours up in the tower's ringing chamber. Good to hear he's still there, over twenty years in quiet service of the church's solemn ritual if not longer to my knowledge.

I recorded some of the tolling, and then went to the Castle for the Royal Welsh Regiment's ceremonial honouring of the departed monarch with a ninety six gun salute. People were queuing along Castle Street in the drizzle to be security checked into the grounds. I joined a crowd of about a thousand others waiting for the salute, scheduled at one o'clock. By the time the ceremony started, the number had doubled. I took nearly sixty photographs and a short video of four out of the ninety six rounds. 

The ceremonial field guns were positioned with their armourers standing watch over them, and then at ten to one the teams responsible for each one in full dress uniform marched to their assigned positions, behind each gun. With meticulous punctuality, they fired a round every ten seconds, beginning as the City Hall clock struck one and ending at one sixteen. Each team then left the field in their personnel vehicle, towing their gun. The crowd was too dense to see all that was going on. For security reasons no vantage points from above were accessible. Press cameras were on a grassy bank about a metre about the field itself.

In the course of taking photos beforehand and trying to keep my camera from getting wet while it was still drizzling, I lost my camera lens cap. When I realised, I retrace my steps, and fortunately a couple and a young girl had spotted it on the ground, and left it there in case I returned. I was lucky! It seemed like everyone in the crowd was taking photos on their phones - hundreds of people with both hands held high in the air to position themselves for their best shots. I wasn't able to get near the crush barrier so my photos weren't as good as I hoped for. Nevertheless, when I reached home, late for lunch I spent the afternoon editing the sound files I'd made and incorporating them into a video slide show, which I thought my sister June would appreciate, and maybe a few others as well.

At six o'clock, before the national thanksgiving service at St Paul's Cathedral, we watched King Charles' first speech as our new sovereign. It was a warm tribute to his mother's vocation and life's work and he included twice his solemn pledge to continue to minister to the nation in the same way as his mother. He acknowledged that his life would change in the light of his new role, but expressed confidence that the things he was passionate about over the past fifty years now had momentum of their own in the hands of many others. 

The service following was good, uplifting music, carefully chosen readings and some new prayers for the departed I wasn't familiar with, but which spoke poetically about the mystery of eternity and resurrection. Such public prayers for the dead in a CofE service back at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign would have led to hard-line Protestants causing uproar, alleging papist inflitration. Not only the world, but the church is a different place from how it was when I was a kid.

Fish shopping

I woke early and posted the link for today's Morning Prayer to WhatsApp before getting breakfast ready. On the way to the Eucharist at John's early, I shopped for food bank items at Tesco's in order to leave them at church for collection. There were just seven of us today. Linda has kindly agreed to drive me to St Joseph's after the service on Thursday three weeks hence when I have my cataract operation. Over coffee we talked about opening St John's for a 'warm church' morning on a day when there are other community activities during the day and the church heating needs to be on. With churches paying business rates for energy it's hard to see how any heating is going to be affordable. We must hope that the Lord provides!

I cooked rice and veg with mussels for our lunch. After a siesta we walked into town to buy our monthly consignment of fresh fish for freezing. We omitted to bring a freezer bag with us, but bought one from the fishmonger's stock. It's a good sized bag branded stylishly with E. Ashton's Ltd, Fishmonger (est.1800) on the side and top. Normally I hate any design which carries product branding, but this is an exception as it's a Cardiff institution to which we have regular recourse for supplies.

We then went to John Lewis for a cuppa before returning home on a 61 bus. Unfortunately the young man who served us at Ashton's had put ice in with the fish in the freezer bag, but not contained it in a plastic bag of its own. By the time we were on the bus, some of the ice had started to melt and left a trail of water on the floor. It didn't smell fishy, as everything inside the bag was neatly wrapped up, but the sight of a fishmonger's bag leaking was embarrassing, suggesting a smell without producing one.

After supper, I watched the second episode of Michael Portillo's travelogue through the Pyrenees, and then the first two episodes of 'The Capture' series two. A cleverly devised political thriller about deep fake video technology, able to work in real time without lag or distortion. It's science fiction, but may be possible sooner than we think. The bad guys in this story are, or seem to be so far the Chinese, and it probes assumptions, stereotypes, and disinformation as a weapon of war, much as the recent thriller on Channel Four about cyber warfare expounded Russian efforts of a similar kind. It's a bit like twentieth century war time propaganda drama about 'fifth columnists', designed to alert the public to the enemy in our midst. Except that now the very technologies on which modern life relies so heavily are weaponised and used against us. Disturbing stuff. What have we done to ourselves?

Closure

I woke up at half past six but fell asleep again until half past eight this morning, when I posed today's link to Morning Prayer on WhatsApp. After breakfast I left early for church to shop for food bank items on my way to St John's for the Eucharist, together with nine others. 

Ashley and I arranged to meet following a appointment of his at St David's hospital. We met and walked to the Saffron Cafe at Canton Cross, where he had a very late breakfast after a fasting blood test, and I had a cup of coffee. It's the first time I've been in there. It was quite busy, but the lady in charge was very welcoming, and it didn't take long for Ashley to get served, so we had three quarters of an hour together to talk about finally clearing the CBS office, now the business is wound up and the place must be vacated. Then I returned home for lunch.

To my surprise, considering that I had a a full night's sleep, I slept for another hour in the chair after doing my DuoLingo Spanish exercise of the day. I suppose I must need the extra sleep to make up for nights when my sleep is more broken. Then, a walk around Llandaff Fields before supper. 

Later in the evening, after I'd finished and printed my service sheet for tomorrow's funeral, we watched 'The African Queen', that classic movie from 1951 with Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn. I recalled from when I saw it in my teens that it was a drama set in colonial Africa, but had forgotten that it was essentially a romantic comedy adventure. Very much a period piece, but entertaining all the same.

Late boost

I posted the YouTube link for today's Morning Prayer on What'sApp just before 'Thought for the Day' and then went down to breakfast, prepared by Clare, who was up before me and ever so slightly improved to be able to take on a normal routine activity again, but there's no escaping the back pain.

I went to St John's and joined six others for the Eucharist' We had the story of Phillip and the Ethiopian eunuch from Acts for the Epistle. Mother Frances pointed out that the Servant Song passage the man was reading aloud in his chariot from Isaiah 53.7-8, is a passage a passage about someone who is isolated and lonely, an experience with which the eunuch would most likely have been familiar, being in a position of  responsibility, but without family support. He would have identified himself with this, and be seeking its true meaning.  It's an angle of interpretation I'd never thought of before. 

Looking at the same passage, my curiosity is aroused by the question of which language he'd be reading in and they'd speak in. My guess is that they'd speak Greek so the Greek translation of Isaiah would be more accessible to him than the Hebrew or Aramaic, both of which he'd be less likely to know. Interesting to observe how the same text catches our attention in different ways. That's the wonder of the Word.

I took the trolley with me to carry the food bank donation to church, then used it on the home run to collect our weekly grocery order from Beanfreaks. Then I recorded and edited the audio for next week's Morning Prayer video, before sitting down to a curry lunch. Unfortunately while I was doing this I was separated from my phones, too absorbed to check them or hear notification sounds coming in, as they were both upstairs. As a result, I completely forgot my booster jab appointment at one forty. After eating I continued work on making the video and then went out for a walk, forgetting to take a phone with me.

It was only when Ashely called me at five that I realised my omission. I rang the vaccination admin line, and was lucky enough to rearrange the appointment for twenty to seven this evening. I had enough time to drive across to the Mass Vaccination Centre in Splott, and as it wasn't very busy I was jabbed by half past six with a dose of the Pfizer vaccine and on my way home in time for supper and The Archers on the radio. Just as well I decided last week to renew the car insurance and keep the Polo for another year!

I binge watched episodes of a new crime thriller currently on ITV called 'D I Ray'. It's about an Asian thirty something woman who is a police detective inspector on a murder squad, who uncovers a link to an organised crime gang trafficking drugs and people, going against her supervisors who are certain two of the deaths being investigated are a product of culturally related violence. D I Ray is subjected to quite a lot of casual racism, presumed to be of Indian origin, but actually born in Leicester into a middle class professional family which happens to come from the Punjab. 

The crime investigation using all mod cons available in modern policing was interesting enough, but the whole four part series is really an essay on institutional racism and cultural identity issues, plausible and relevant currently. I suspect there will be another series, probing further the weaknesses and failings of Her Majesty's Constabulary, and that there will be moans that it's unrepresentative of the force today. Trouble is the force has been playing catch-up on these issues for far too long.

A Passiontide work in progress

A bright morning, but with the sky covered by a thin layer of cloud. It was gone eight thirty by the time I posted the link to today's Morning Prayer, as again I didn't wake up in time for Thought for the Day. After breakfast, I walked to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist with just four others this week. After coffee and a chat, I returned home and cooked lunch as Clare was out shopping in town

Surprising news from Ukraine about the sinking of a Russian warship capable of carrying troops and tanks to shore, as it did eight years ago when Crimea was annexed. The navy probably has others, but this will not be easy for Putin to explain, any more than the loss of six generals and many more ranking officers and over fifteen thousand soldiers in this offensive. Apparently the GRU Russia's military intelligence agency has someone senior leaking information abroad about disquiet in its ranks over Putin's campaign. If this isn't fake news, it could mean that his leadership is finally coming under internal scrutiny. Churches as well as governments around the world make continuing efforts to sustain communication and appeal for and end to fighting. There's little sign of change but nobody knows completely what is happening under the surface.

Clare wanted to visit a closing down sale of a store on Newport Road that sells outdoor leisure clothes, so I drove her there after lunch, but there was nothing she was interested in buying. After we got back, I walked over to Victoria Park to take photos as it has some spectacular blossoming trees. The wonderful pink flowers on the magnolia tree overlooking the pond in Thompson's Park have dropped most of their petals already. The leaf buds are still tight dark green spikes yet to unfold. The magnolia in next door's garden is slightly different, as it still has much of its blossom, and its leaves are already bursting out of the buds. Does this reflect adaptation to a different environment, or it is a different variety, I wonder?

Not much of interest on telly tonight, so I spent a couple of hours working on the script for the service on Good Friday that I propose issuing as a podcast while it happens live. An experiment and a challenge for which I hope I don't lose my nerve.

Genocide remembered

A good night's sleep, eight hours, five of them uninterrupted, a rarity for me. At eight, I posted the link on WhatsApp  to this week's Morning Prayer and reflection on YouTube, about on the betrayal of Jesus. 

After breakfast, Eucharist at St John's. Only six of us were there. To my surprise, no mention was made of Holocaust Memorial Day commemorations. So easy to lose sight of this. Thank God for the Jewish insistence that the six million Jewish lives lost under Nazism is not the only example of genocide in the twentieth and twenty first centuries. The real death toll, globally speaking, of populations and cultures wiped out  due to Communism and Nazism may exceed 150 million people,. We need to be even more fearful of human malice than of pandemics, it seems to me. 

I returned home after banking a cheque then started work on preparing next Thursday's video offering, while Clare put the finishing touches to painting the kitchen and screwed shelves back on the wall. We cooked together, and after lunch went for a walk around the park.

Clare went to choir practice at St Catherine's after an early supper, while I recorded and edited what I had prepared earlier in the day. Then, a couple of hours telly - Winterwatch and New Tricks, before turning in for the night.

 

Specs re-framed

I woke up very early this morning, posted the link to my Morning Prayer video and took ages to drop off to sleep again for another hour. As I needed to go to the School of Optometry to get my specs, broken on Christmas Eve, finally repaired, for an eleven thirty appointment, I drove to St John's for the midweek Eucharist. A blanket of fog covered the city, visibility down to 150 metres, the world of colour reduced to black, white and shades of grey. Driving wasn't so bad, fewer cars on the road anyway at the moment, but with people being sensible about limiting their speed and not jumping lights. Fog like this is unusual for Cardiff, and that makes everyone extra cautious.

With Mother Frances, there were ten of us at Mass, back to normal numbers. I had time for some shopping in Cathay's Lidl, making use of their car park, as the store is almost next door to the Optometry building. I assumed correctly that a replacement frame would be necessary. Although the computer said they were out of stock of that design, there was one remaining on display. So, in ten minutes and for only fifteen pounds, I was happily reunited with my everyday lenses.

I cooked a lentil and mushroom dish for lunch, then prepared my order of service for tomorrow's funeral at St Luke's before going out to make the most of the afternoon sunshine. As I left the Fields after sunset, thick mist rolled in again over the grass for the third evening in a row. It's going to be a cold night, I think.

I spent the evening writing next Thursday's reflection, then recording it and the Office, to get a head start on what will be another busy week to come. After tomorrow morning's funeral, we're going to the Oxwich Bay Hotel for the weekend, and Kath is coming down to join us. We got lucky with a cut price winter deal in our favourite coastal location. What a treat!