Colder and cloudy for most of the day, but no rain. I woke up to another nosebleed in the night with blood slowly trickling down the back of my throat, so I was able to get to the bathroom without making a mess everywhere. A repeat of last Monday. I don't understand what triggers this, but it might be writing late in the day, and yesterday I spent extra time drawing, lots pf 'brain' work with not enough physical activity to balance. These bursts don't last as long as they used to as my diastolic blood pressure is averagely lower nowadays, but the systolic pressure does go up with effort, and prolonged concentration. I may get tired, but not necessarily relaxed enough to mitigate the effects of too much 'brain' work.
After breakfast we walked to St Mary's for the 10.00am Eucharist. It was pleasing to join a congregation of over seventy, including a choir of twenty, which sang a couple of anthems very nicely plus two clergy and a lay reader, who preached. It's a lovely church with three aisles. The high altar is elevated up twelve steps, and the Vicar Fr Steve Brett faced eastwards. It made sense in that physical setting. Everything was well ordered and harmonious. Just what a Parish Liturgy should be. When he greeted us after the service, he asked my first name and his eyes lit up when he pronounced my surname. "I thought I recognised you!" He said. I visited St John's when you were Vicar there." I think that was before he was ordained. What a unexpected surprise now that I'm getting to the age where I reckon few people remember me in the church apart from those in churches I have ministered to. Anyway we'll meet again for a chat after the Wednesday Midday Eucharist.
We had two hours to squander before our lunch date at the Hope and Anchor, most of wandering around parts of the old town, a half hour spent over an expensive coffee, a half hour in the quayside chapel dedicated to St Julian the Hospitaller, patron saint of ferrymen, innkeepers and circus artists before we arrived on time for lunch, only to discover that lobster wasn't on the lunchtime menu. And lobster was to be Clare's special treat. So we re-booked for supper with lobster at six.
A third of the way back Clare realised she's lost a ring she was wearing, most likely in the toilet, so we went back to look for it, but to no avail. Sad, because it was one she made for herself. When we got back she had a light snack and then a siesta. I cooked Canelli beans with onion, tomato and chunks of chorizo, as I was feeling really hungry. With a couple of slices of home mead bread this was enough to keep me going until supper time. I then slept for an hour and a half, making up for what I missed last night. The 'Hope and Anchor' was far less crowded at six. Clare had half a lobster, I had a gammon steak with pineapple, salad and pembrokeshire new potatoes, washed down with a pint of Tenby Best Bitter, brewed somewhere within the very town itself. Nice and malty, a good ale very locally sourced!
We got back just before eight, and I made another attempt to draw a view of the end of South Beach of which I had taken a photo earlier, something straightforward I thought, until I realised it wasn't. It was a challenge, but worth the effort for three quarters of an hour, before writing this and making proper time to decompress before going to bed...
