State of Alarm - day Sixty Nine

Woke up with some slight general improvement. I can move around without muscle agony for the most part, but am still swollen and can't set down. The draining continues, hopeful faster than it is building up. Trusting the antibiotic to do the job is all I can do.

Got some of the preparatory work for Pentecost Sunday moving. I have the seeds of the sermon but not a lot of creative energy surplus at the moment. It's probably being used up on managing anxiety, which can be generated by vagus nerve stimulation from localised pain. Up until last week it had all but disappeared. The new inflammation has brought it back, but not yet as bad as before.

The result of representations made to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office from Kevin Brennan our MP and Eluned Morgan via the WAG has resulted in a response from the Consular office head trouble shooter. Hundreds and hundreds of words and hyperlinks, merely cut and pasted from government sources accessed by our family over the past couple of months. Flights today and on Friday are mentioned without acknowledgement of the fact that we were conned into booking BAe by the promise of none stop flights. Fridays takes 24 hours in three stages.

The government tries to suffocate people with too much information which avoids answering the question and confuses issues. I wrote a detailed reply sayings and complaining about the lack of proper accountability when it comes to accuracy of information provided by HMG and FCO . I don't suppose it will achieve anything, but I felt the need to give critical feedback, and vent my ire. I am joining the ranks of the legendary 'Disgusted of Tonbridge Wells'

Jules rang at teatime to say his mother probably didn't  have long to live after the heart attack she had the other night. He said I could ring her as was conscious and lucid, but for how much longer he wasn't sure. I phoned her and we chatted a few minutes. As she was wearing an oxygen mask her voice was muffled, but it gave me a chance to tell her I love her and had always appreciated her as a big sister. I asked if she'd like me to pray a blessing over her and she said yes please eagerly. As I prayed I broke down in tears so I'm not sure she understood everything, but she knew I was praying, and will continue to do so, until I hear she's died.

I was grateful knowing that it wasn't a covid death, and that she has been conscious of heart trouble for months past, because we spoke of it when I rang her on her birthday. The day of my arrival in Ibiza. Yet, with son Jules and her brother at the end of a phone and not holding her hand, he and I joined the world's grieving legions separated from family and friends in time of need, having to entrust their beloved to strangers. Thank God Nicky has been there, her pillar of strength.

By this time I really needed fresh air and a walk, I went to 'Es Cuco' for fruit and frozen fish, having found an insulated bag in the back of the car, although it turned out the be falling apart. I made do with it to buy some salmon, just this once. That was just enough. Grief is exhausting.

Ascension and Election day

There were fifteen of us for the Ascension day Eucharist at St John's this morning. I enjoyed being able to walk down to church in the sunshine. The really cold weather seems to be passing, and it seems more like spring at last. The colours generated by bursting young leaves are just amazing to see. After lunch I spent a few hours in the office, putting an accounts sheet in order, and adding to the inventory database I created last week. There's a long way to go however, to get everything in order before it's all distributed to users. Then there were minutes and agenda to prepare and issue for the next BCRP Board meeting. I won't be able to attend as it takes place the evening before we leave on our Danube cruise, but I am confident the meeting will be in good hands with Julie as scribe.

Voting for the Welsh Assembly Government takes place today, amongst other things, so the news seems to be a relentless grind of political chatter of no consequence. We voted postally a couple of weeks ago, so there was no outing to a polling station after tea for us, just a quiet evening, editing photos of the Central Square redevelopment and uploading them. You'll find the collection here.  I've been taking photos from just three or four vantage points around the site, so many of them appear much the same, apart from weather changes and equipment movements. Over six months, however, looking carefully at the centre of the pictures you see the ground level dropping piecemeal.

The huge 7 metre basement area excavation is nearly finished now, and the cleared ground is becoming a forest of reinforced concrete rods, prior to the introduction of the steel beams for the framework of the buildings. It's amazing the speed at which half a million tons for earth and stones has been dug out and removed from this area since January, regardless of the weather too. Very impressive organisation in the midst of a busy area of town.

Stop surprise

I woke up early and had an unhurried breakfast, then headed for the bus station to get the Airport Shuttle bus, I was bewildered that I couldn't find out which platform the bus used. There was no obvious signage. I asked a group of bus drivers and was told that the bus no longer called at the bus station, but now picked up passengers at a stop on the south side of the train station in Penarth Road. 

I walked there immediately, but had to ask again, as there was no indication on the bus shelter on the station side of the road if this was the correct stop. I was directed to cross the road to the bus shelter opposite. This is the one we use to get the Bay Car bus on our way to the Millennium Centre. As I crossed the road, the Shuttle I was intending to catch arrived. Not only had the stop changed, but also the direction taken by the bus in making its way around the city centre. I have no idea of when this change was made, but the absence of obvious publicity is tantamount to sabotage of this excellent bus service, and shows contempt towards visitors and business travellers relying on it.

By ten, I'd checking in my case and passed through security, with two hours to relax before boarding. The flight was on time, but the doors stuck wide open on the transfer to terminal bus, so we had to wait five minutes for a replacement. Just as I reached the baggage reclaim conveyor, my case appeared so no time was lost. I'd forgotten that Judith would be waiting for me in the departure drop-off zone and I took a long way around to reach her, but we were soon on our way. By five we reached Nerja and I was at Church House unpacking and logging on. The house hasn't been lived in for a couple of months. There was a little food in the fridge and freezer, but no fresh fruit and veg, so the first thing I had to do was visit the nearest supermarket and stock up. Feeling the need for exercise I walked the kilometre there and back, an uphill and down dale route. I certainly got what I needed on the return leg with two heavy bags. It's good to be back in a familiar house and environment, with plenty of interest to look forward to in the coming months.

    

Back to base and digital divisions again

Time to go home, so we were up early, gathering our goods and chattels, loading them into the car. We were on our way by nine thirty, stopped at Pont Abraham services by eleven and home in Cardiff by one. 

Apart from dealing with the relatively small pile of mail and doing the food shopping, my major task was sorting and uploading photographs, and preparing a sermon for tomorrow. Our accommodation was a little cramped for two of us, let alone when Owain camped on the floor, but so well situated. I look at my pictures and am reminded just how beautiful and photogenic the West Wales coastline is. No wonder the visitors come here from all over Europe as well as Britain. But best of all is the gentle way of life, the warmth of hospitality and the food, whether you buy things to cook or go out for a meal. And there's ten years worth of holiday exploration of the region's history to prevent you getting bored, whatever the weather.

The only thing that marred the experience from my point of view was poor digital network connectivity, whether by mobile or wi-fi throughout the area. The infrastructure is not fit for purpose, given the large number of visitors that can be predicted to arrive annually. This is damaging for the tourism economy and damaging for all those who live permanently in far flung places and are expected to be there to welcome visitors. What rural Wales offers to wider society is hugely valuable in terms of health and welfare, giving people a respite from the pressures of work and urban living. Yet investment in the improvement of connectivity to rural areas comes late to government priorities. I'm talking here, not about high speed broadband to direct home deliver entertainment packages, but about reliable basic services, email and text messages, delivered as consistently as BBC Radio Four is to most remote areas. 

That identifies the problem in a way. BBC broadcasting sets very high standards of availability all over the country. That's a benchmark for mobile phone signals, and internet access by whatever means. It is possible to get on line in most places, but in some, local server capacity is so inadequate to cope with the fluctuations of demand by increased numbers that every service user is affected.

I'll never forget being able to upload photos via a BT Openzone wifi connection faster than at home on one day, then on another, not even being able to get recognition of the same memorised password to permit access to the same service. That tends to be an indication of overwhelming demand, but it was also true of Ceredigion Council's public wi-fi network access when I tried to use it in Aberteifi's library the week before last.

Sure, people learn to live with these frustrations, but the persistent failure to keep up with the rising demand is a symptom of the gulf between all consuming big city demands and the rest. Escaping from the city to the country is what a large proportion of citizens want to do when they can, but like me, they bring with them expectations about being able to stay in touch with people elsewhere that govern their attitudes and actions. 

If you can get a phone signal on top of Everest and in many parts of the Swiss Alps, why can't you get one right along the Welsh coast path, in places where not being able to call for help could be a serious risk to life? Wake up WAG and Whitehall.