Even longer nights from now

After a good long sleep, Clare cooked us waffles for breakfast. Then she and Owain loaded the stewed crab apples with added cloves and lemons into a straining bag and hung it up for the juice to drip through. This produced three pints of liquor during the day, with a little extra bag squeezing at the end. Boiled up with a couple of pounds of sugar this produced nine jars of crab apple jelly. While this was cooking  I sieved the remaining fruit to produce several pounds of spicy apple puree, which can be used to spread on toast for breakfast, and baked into a pie. A wonderful return for the effort of harvesting and cooking.

Cousin Godfrey's funeral was this morning, and I was sorry not to be able to attend, but included prayers for him in saying the daily office. That's three family funerals in a row I've missed, two because of covid and one now because of the distance and time available for travel 

I got started on a sermon for tomorrow before we went to The Conway for a pub lunch: chicken curry for me, fish and chips for Clare and Owain and beer all round. Then we went into town, as Owain wanted to shop for a jacket in John Lewis. We then parted company and he went off to meet a friend, before returning to Bristol, so we had a drink in the cafeteria and then took the bus home. 

As we walked past a small joke cum novelty costume shop opposite the Castle, it was impossible to ignore the thirty yard queue of young people of student age outside, waiting to get into the store and be served. All were looking for something bizarre to wear for this Hallowe'en weekend. Astonishing to think how an old children's folk custom has developed into yet another consumer-fest of negligible value or interest. On arriving home we heard the news of a hundred and fifty four  young people dying in Seoul Korea, crushed in an excited crowd pressing through an alleyway in a night club district while out Halloween partying. It's a terrible tragedy, arising from the hype of consumerism - a new idolatry that consumes its worshippers by inflaming passions. A sad symptom of this passing age.

As the sun was setting I walked in the park for an hour and took some nice photos of a red and grey evening sky. After supper, I watched another double episode of Norwegian crimmie 'Wisting', then completed a sermon for tomorrow before turning the clocks back, and turning in too late to benefit from an extra hour in bed. At least I have a later start tomorrow morning, in any case.

Toxic consumerism

I celebrated the Eucharist with a dozen people at St John's this morning, then went to the clinic for a dressing. My clinic visits are reducing to three a week now, and if I'm running out of supplies, I can call in during working hours. Healing continues slowly, but it's still quite uncomfortable to sit for any length of time. Even so, already it's better than it was a couple of weeks ago. I look forward to a time when I can get by with just a minimal dressing, as I did for several months at the outset, as that would allow me to look after myself and not need to rely on Clare or a nurse to keep clean and safe. I'd then be able to go to London and see my sister June. It's more than a year since I last visited her.

Following my afternoon siesta I walked over to Victoria Park and back, for a change. Along Romilly Road I picked up a dozen discarded cans and bottles over a half mile distance with three litter bins. It's almost automatic for me to pick up something rolling around on the pavement which others might trip over if they don't notice it. It's the only way I can stop myself being resentful toward those who have no sense of public pride or self control to carry a container as far as a bin. These can be discarded often within yards of a litter bin. It's as if bins are invisible to the guzzling classes. 

What also disturbs me is the number of drink containers, both alcoholic and soft, from which only a few mouthfuls have been taken before abandonment. Was the person thirsty or not? Did the drink's taste not meet expectation? Is this a kind of consumer sickness, with an impact beyond the individual? 

Cutbacks in municipal budgets have led to reduction to the services delivered by the Council's Waste Management department when it comes to street cleaning. One day, on my walk back from the clinic I chatted with a couple of crew members emptying litter bins and tidying King's Road. Two workers are now doing what used to be done by three, and crews are expected to cover more ground as well. They may have to go without a lunch break to complete their target schedule. The city centre is well looked after from day to day, but less so the outlying residential areas.

One thing I find comforting is learning that some other older people also pick up litter in the street on their daily walkabouts. Neighbourhood groups and friends of public green spaces also organise weekend litter picks too. If politics and the economy fail to provide services which help to maintain civic pride, community voluntary action is necessary to fend off demoralisation and indifference to the environment. But the heart of the matter is the pernicious change in personal behaviour wrought by modern consumerism, and it's poisoning individuals (due to the impact on health of over eating and drinking), as well as the public domain and the common good.