Fond farewell

After this morning's Solemn Mass at St German's, I took part in the parish lunch at the hall next door. A delicious meal and a lovely occasion on which to take my leave of the congregation, where I have been helping out for the past nine months continuously. I have greatly enjoyed getting to know them and working with them to get through a time of uncertainty to the point of being ready to face the coming interregnum with confidence. A mix of clerics will be supporting them in future, as my ministry takes me elsewhere until December. I was very touched by their kind words of appreciation and generosity towards me, especially when I feel I have received so much. Just being able to lead worship and give pastoral support, without the management responsibilities and worries which fall to any incumbent cleric has been a lovely experience.

When I got home, I had a couple of hours with Owain before he left for Bristol, and then got my suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and started packing clothes, and collecting the bits and pieces of equipment I'll need while I'm away. This time I won't take a Windows laptop, as both chaplaincies have equipment I can use. But I will take the Chromebook as this, with a smartphone, is what I now find I use most. As it's summer, it'll be easier to travel light in every respect. And, I'm now a day ahead of myself, for a change.

This evening we watched the third and final Kenneth Branagh interpretation of 'Wallander', the one which features the end of the detective's career as he struggles against early onset Alzhemer's in the face of a case that threatens his nearest and dearest. The storyline was somewhat abridged in comparison with the original Swedish version, whose portrayal of the impact of the disease on the man was, to my mind, more detailed and vivid. Branagh gave his all to the part, but the outcome disappointed.

Wallander redux

Glad to return to St German's for this morning's Solemn Mass, and to invite the congregation to pray for Hamid, as he is to be stripped of all support prior to deportation this Wednesday. People are very fond of him, and much troubled by the news. After the service I had a visit from a lady who is asking for a church wedding blessing this coming Friday. A hasty civil wedding had been organised ten years ago, when she was diagnosed with cancer, just in case. She's cancer free now and the family has survived other tribulations too, so there's much to celebrate and thank God for. 

I don't think she's a regular churchgoer any more, although she lives just around the corner from the church, but like many others, such good-will and gratitude is evident, and she knows where to come to give thanks. Fr Mark has asked me to do a funeral on Thursday, of a lady who could see St John's Canton from the front gate of the family home. Even though it's not a funeral in church, a sense of connection to the church and its ministry locally still persists. These modest local bonds of affection and sense of place still have potential in helping the church to reach out to the community it is planted in to serve.

Despite the good weather, neither of us felt inclined to go far after lunch. Clare enjoyed her garden and I completed my labour of love, editing and uploading photos. The job's completed now, and you can find them posted

Day five photos here

Day six photos here

Day seven photos here

At least now they're in a place where I can study them and reflect on the journey through history, with so many layers to it. The tour guides were marvellous, and naturally, perhaps, emphasised the grand European public figures, royalty, musicians, artists and the suchlike. I would like to have heard about the landscape and ecosystems, wealth creating trade, agriculture, industry and science that made life possible for all those top layer people. But maybe that would have required a two week voyage!

I noticed a new series of the English made series of 'Wallander' crime stories airing on BBC 1 tonight, starring Kenneth Branagh. As this had started last week, I watched the first on iPlayer, then the next one live. It's well produced and acted, no doubt, but still leaves me feeling that it doesn't quite capture the Scandinavian ethos, despite being set in the same western Sweden landscape as all the previous series. 

Not hearing any Swedish spoken feels incongruous. After years of scanning English subtitles and hearing the original dialogue, I may not have learned much Swedish, but voice and gesture convey more than words. In fact having the whole thing all in English made it feel, well, more foreign than usual. In fact, the Swedish originals are never short of English, or Danish phrases in the mix, as that is the nature of discourse in a linguistically diverse society, part of what gives it richness and colour.

What gives this series an interesting edge is Branagh's interpretation of Wallander as early onset Alzheimers disease starts to impact upon his work. It can't be the same as Krister Hendricksson's portrayal, as their personalities are different, but therein lies power of the impression made. Seeing this story re-enacted by different men in separate series and languages brings home a painful tragic reality affecting millions today worldwide.

Midsummer sadness

The longest day of the year, warm, bright and sunny despite clouds decorating the sky interestingly. Clare had to go and help at the Steiner School summer fair. I went for a walk and later joined her to have lunch at school and chat with various people. Then we drove out to the St Fagan's National Museum of Welsh life for a walk around the delightful and beautifully maintained italianate gardens of St Fagan's Castle, busy as ever with people enjoying one of Cardiff's best free visitor venues.
 

On the way out, through the gift shop I found and bought a newly published Gomer Press book of photographs, with text in English by Damien Walford Davies and in Welsh by key bi-lingual Carmarthen writer Meredydd Hopwood. It's called 'Poet's Graves', a black and white photo expedition to the last resting places of seventy one Welsh poets from antiquity to yesterday. Each picture is accompanied by vivid poetic prose in both tongues, It may sound like a morbid theme, but it's a beautiful statement about people whose seminal words have best defined landscape over centuries. Many of the places portrayed I have visited at one time or another, being a cleric and having spent seven years in ministry visiting parishes in the length and breadth of our 'Gwlad beirdd a chantorion'. This book gives me both pride and pleasure in being a native of Wales.

After supper, we settled down to watch the final episode of the last series of Wallander recounting the detective's last case before he has to retire, victim of early onset Alzheimer's disease. Throughout this series the portrayal of his decline has been a tribute not only to the acting of Krister Hendrickson but also to the sensitivity of the production team in airing one of the crucial issues of our time.
 

The series ending was sad, but nonetheless impressive - not in a pool of blood in a final shoot-out - that would have been a cinematic way of stating that violence has the last word. Wallander retains his dignity, and is seen at peace surrounded by family, yet he has freedom and independence, until presumably he can no longer look after himself. In the parting shots he is not not yet ravaged to helplessness by the disease, but left in the winter of life on the cold ocean shore. His eventual dying and death lie outside the story of his achievements as a champion of truth and justice. In dramatic terms, this fictional character, so real in many ways, is allowed to defy the maxim: 'If it can be seen, it must be seen'.  We're none the worse for that.

It's so good to have a dramatic production that speaks about the blighting effect of Alzheimer's on a gifted individual in an age when more people are getting older and living with sickness and weakness for longer. The prospects for old age are nothing but scary when you start losing your powers, and society is a better place when this is universally recognised, understood and provided for. I wonder if any of the perpetrators of violence both great and small ever consider what may happen to them before making victims of others?

 

A bewildering Nabucco

This evening we went to the Millennium Centre for the WNO rendering of Verdi's Nabucco, accompanied by our neighbour Liz, whom we invited to join us, as we had a spare ticket. As ever, orchestra and singing were magnificent, driven by diminutive  conductor Xian Zhang, who was subjected to the indignity of being plucked off her feet in a big bear hug during the final curtain call by lead singer David Kempster. To my mind, his enthusiasm wasn't sufficiently respectful of her prowess as musical leader. He wouldn't have done that if the conductor had been a bloke.

I didn't so much quarrel with the innovative production as spend far too much time trying to figure out what its modernist minimalist setting and symbolism meant to  convey. The positioning of the cast on stage sometimes left me puzzled as to which actors were supposed to be Hebrews and which Assyrians. Would I have been any the wiser if I'd gone to the pre-performance talk

I don't think I was alone going home disappointed. Nevertheless, American singer Mary Elizabeth Williams brought terrific energy and style to the role of Abigaille. She's a diva, she knows it, and enjoys inhabiting her dramatic stage persona just as much as she enjoys singing a musically challenging role. Maybe she understood the producer's intent better than anyone else on stage. We last saw her a couple of years ago in the role of Verdi's Floria Tosca. It was equally as engaging to watch as well as hear.

Unusually, on the way in to the performance, I met four different people I knew from my time as city centre parish priest - two of them were Welsh clerical colleagues. Nabucco has always been a favourite with the home crowd, whether the WNO programmes it as part of a 'Faith' season or not.

When we got home, aware that I had no ministerial duties to require early rising, I stayed up late and watched 'Wallender' on iPlayer. Another moving portrayal of a man stricken while still working flat out at solving evil crimes by the onset of early Alzheimer's disease. It was very moving, sad and thought provoking to watch.

     

A flute for Rhiannon

After breakfast and a final stroll around the garden at Plas Baladeulyn yesterday, we drove back to Cardiff yesterday in decent weather on roads a lot quieter than I'd expected for the second weekend of half term holiday. We stopped in Brecon to do our weekend food shopping, and had lunch in a small cafe-cum-delicatessen in the town's covered market. In the evening, there was a Sunday sermon to prepare and some catch up TV to watch.

Kath, Anto and Rhiannon arrived mid-afternoon today. Anto went straight off to Clwb Ifor Bach to prepare for the fourth Third Uncles' reunion gig. Clare and I met Kath and Rhiannon in town, so that we could visit Gamlin's music shop to buy a flute for Rhiannon. Her playing and enthusiasm for the flute has developed in this past year, as she has grown physically to the point where it's now much easier for her hands to cover the flute keys. She's been playing her mum's instrument until now, and will soon be taking her Grade Two exam, so it seemed like the right time for this. We looked at several second hand flutes, and were were taken down to a quiet corner of the shop's basement for Rhiannon to try them out. She fell for the first one she tried, with a warm rounded tone, and left the shop all bright eyed and smiling.

Owain came around for supper and went with Kath to the gig afterwards. Rhiannon stayed at home with us, and watched a video with Clare before going to bed. 'Wallander' was half way through by the time she went up, but I was able to watch it from the start using a new iPlayer streaming feature before it ended in real time. Krister Hendricksson's portrayal of the ageing detective losing his memory is remarkable.

Thanks KwikFit

Last night I, as we set out for the Millennium Centre, our car, which had started fine in the morning, failed to start. The battery is losing charge, and is at least four maybe five years old, therefore probably dying. This damp and rainy morning, I hooked it up to our battery charger for several hours, and succeeded in getting the car to start. I drove straight to our nearest KwikFit centre on Cowbridge Road, and was delighted they could deal with it immediately. The manager loaned me an umbrella, so I could walk home and have lunch while I waited for the job to be done, alternator health check, battery health check, and replacement. By the time I returned, the job was done, a great relief as I resume Sunday duties tomorrow. 

We went for an afternoon walk into town and back in the rain for tea in John Lewis'. Down the Poncanna side of the Taff, we saw a flock of starlings feeding in the wet grass under the trees alongside the avenue. We were serenaded by a wren and a blackbird, oblivious to the depressing dampness of the hour. As we crossed the footbridge, scores of swifts swarmed over the river, darting in every direction feeding on midges in the air as they flew. Sometimes on this walk you're lucky to see a handful of crows and pidgeons, and then the mood of dull day can be a handful of surprises. 

The city centre was in festive mood, with a live soul band playing in the drizzle outside the Castle, and tens of thousands of good humoured rugby fans making their ways into the Millennium Stadium for the Heineken Cup final. As the match was under way, streets were quiet when we made our way home after a look around the store and tea. The second instalment of 'Wallander' was on BBC4, portraying the detective as growing increasingly forgetful about ordinary things, attributable to his profound concentration on the case in hand, but shades of things to come, as the series moves to his end.