Establishment religion under scrutiny

It was such a relief to wake up to a blue sky this morning, after nearly a fortnight under cloud cover. After breakfast and Morning Prayer, I fell asleep in the chair again for another three quarters of an hour. It seems that really need eight hours worth these days. Then the usual Monday housework, and preparing text to record for next week's Thursday Morning Prayer. I made lunch as Clare went out shopping. I started a bit late and she arrived home late, just as it was ready to serve. After we'd eaten I recorded what I'd prepared, then went for a two hour walk in the park. The last load of crush barriers used for Saturday's athletics meeting were being loaded on to a lorry to return to storage as I started. The bulk of the clearing up was done late Saturday or yesterday. Clear-up takes a lot longer than setup. A couple of the dead trees were felled this morning leaving behind piles of logs for collection, the branches having been already cleared away. I arrived home just as the western horizon turned pink after the sun had gone from view.

After supper, I edited the audio recorded earlier, then watched a couple of episodes of the fourth series of Danish crimmie 'Those who kill', about the work of a Copenhagen based criminal profiler dealing with perpetrators active across the border in the Swedish city of Malmö. I've noticed over years of watching European crime drama series how many are set in border zones: Finland and Russia, Germany and Poland or France, Italy and Switzerland or Austria, and there are island based series, as well as those set inland in big cities, and rarely in rural areas. Cross border crime is perhaps a growing phenomenon, on the back of the internet, not just financial fraud but in physical reality too, as contraband and people are trafficked.

The media today is reporting calls from senior Anglican church leaders for the resignation of Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury. He's one of several CofE bishops criticised for failing to take inquire into stories about a senior evangelical church lawyer now dead, who had a history of violently abusing boys at church camps over a fifty year period, with punishment beatings to ward off temptation to masturbate. This started well before safeguarding discipline was introduced in church practice, before the crimes of sex abuser Bishop Peter Ball were exposed and punished. Those who were aware of allegations ahead of official criminal complaints being made, were clearly reluctant to tackle such powerful figures - much the same as happened with Jimmy Saville and Mohammed Al-Fayed. 

Anxiety about undermining the church's reputation in the public eye, yet again leads to further erosion of  the institutional church's credibility. It's a sordid reality of life that the wrongdoings of those occupying positions of high status, power and wealth can go undetected and unpunished simply because those of lesser authority and status around them fear the consequences of drawing attention to them. There are situations in which allegations aroused are proved unfounded, and this is equally damaging to all involved. If the Archbishop is forced to resign due to errors of ignorance or omission, what is going to happen to other Bishops and senior clergy who were aware things were not right, that there was a whiff of iniquity behind the mask of conservative piety?

Prove who you are - impersonally, really?

As ever on Monday some housework to do after breakfast. Then I went into town to meet Chris from his train, to sit and chat over a couple of coffees in a Royal Arcade cafe I'd passed but never been in before. It was quite busy, and there were several people working on the laptops, taking advantage of the free wi-fi, that is now become a common feature of just about every establishment open to the public in the city centre. You can also get free wi-fi when out and about in the street once you register. 

It's so different from how it was fifteen years ago when St John's pioneered the first public wireless access point in the in town, and certainly the first in a church. That ran for a year for free, as I recall, then lapsed, as the publicity stunt ended and wi-fi roll-out got going in earnest. It was rather clunky as speeds weren't great. More a proof of concept than anything else. But I was there! As Max Boyce would say.

Chris and I chatted for two hours, about the departure of the Bishop and the prospects for a new one. It was two by the time I arrived home for lunch, lovingly kept warm by an ever patient Clare. There was a message from Pidgeon's about a funeral the week after next. After I'd eaten, I went for a walk in the park, then recorded and edited the audio for this week's Thursday Morning Prayer and reflection. 

I returned to receive an email from the Euro-diocesan safeguarding officer with instructions about registering for the CofE Disclosure and Barring service database, something which I'd done three years ago prior to going to Ibiza. I dug out my password for the website, and was obliged to re-enter a list of required identity details, the same list as last time, if my memory serves me right. The next requirement is to get copies of three identity verification documents and get them signed for by a cleric - Mother Frances has agreed to do this when we meet for the Fountain choir concert rehearsal tomorrow night. 

Once signed, I have to scan and send them to the safeguarding officer. It's an onerous task, and it must be that much less straightforward for anyone who doesn't have the ability or technical resources on hand to do this. Proving who you are by supplying a whole lot of confidential data had now almost entirely supplanted personal relationship 'knowing and being known'. I see the point in a world where deceit and lies have become endemic, and identity theft is now crime whose impact is causing increasing concern, but the impersonal forensic nature of the process seems anything but pastoral when based on electronic communication. 

The only personal element is the responsibility entrusted to Mother Frances verifying my documents, as a cleric who knows me. I'll have to go through this procedure all over again soon, as the due date for my diocesan PTO will fall early in the New Year. I find this process at the heart of the church's enlistment for public ministry somewhat disturbing. The data doesn't say whether I am faithful, or trustworthy with the duties I undertake, only that I haven't transgressed the law and been found out. It hasn't stopped the church from losing members or gaining new ones. The distrust or disregard people have for the church is based on credibility of belief and practice in all our relationships. Not just compliance with the law. 

At least there's one thing to rejoice about today. I heard that Gerwyn, former Dean of Llandaff has been appointed Vicar of Thaxted in Essex, an historic Anglo-Catholic Parish in Essex with a radical social traditions, bringing to a happy closure the bitter dispute between Bishop June and Gerwyn about reforms imposed on the way the Cathedral and Parish were run. It attracted unwelcome publicity from the media, and affected his health, such that he hadn't worked since early in the pandemic and eventually resigned his office, withdrawing a formal complaint he'd made against her. It was a profound embarrassment for the Cathedral and diocese. Llandaff has a history of tense relationships between its Bishops and Deans, but nothing quite as open and exposed as this. Thankfully now, it's over.

After supper the last episode of 'London Kills' and latest of 'The Blacklist', almost impossible to fathom. After watching all fifteen episodes of the former I can say with confidence that the same clips of stock footage of London locations was re-used time and time again in between dialogue scenes, to no benefit apart from padding episodes out to forty five minutes instead of forty or less. It takes binge watching to notice things like that. I the porgramme commissioners notice, or care, I wonder?

Jazz night out

After breakfast this morning, Clare had a jazz piano lesson with Eddy. He mentioned that he was playing a gig this evening at a cocktail bar in St Mary Street. Naturally she decided she wanted to attend. A Friday night in town isn't a time I'd choose to go out, when the city centre is packed with carousing young people but reluctantly, I agreed.

Yesterday I had an email from Emma the Euro-diocesan Locum administrator about renewing my PTO, and requirement to fill in a form for the Safeguarding Office as the basis of their checks. When I tried to do this, this morning, although the document sent was a standard .docx file it resisted my attempts to fill it in, being marked 'read-only'. When I checked out the OneDrive embedded online MS Word app, it too refused to do anything other than display read-only. I tried saving a copy to edit, but still it wouldn't work in Libre Office, my default Word Processing app. I don't use desktop MS Office. When I re-saved the file in Open Document .ODT format, it became editable, though editing was slow to respond. At least I got it done and sent it off eventually, but it took far longer than expected.

I finished and printed out my Sunday sermon while Clare had her lesson, then cooked lunch. Afterwards, a brief snooze in the chair followed by a walk in Llandaff Fields and along the Taff, I saw a goosander in the water a good half a mile above a spot downstream where I see them roosting. When walked past the rock,  a little later, a mallard couple was perched on it. I wondered if they'd dispossessed the goosander forcing it to move to the stretch of river where I saw it. For more of last year I rarely saw any goosander on the river as I had done in previous years. I guess these changes in habitual behaviour are symptomatic of changes in environmental and weather conditions. Animals are more affected than humans by subtle changes I think.

During supper, we listened to 'Amser Jazz' broadcast from the RWCMD over YouTube, then walked to St John's to pin a poster on the church notice board about the Fountain Choir concert a week Sunday at St Catherine's. The church was brightly lit and there was a carol service going on within when we arrived. The first Christmas lunch of the year had been served up in church this lunchtime for about twenty people.

We caught a bus into town from nearby the church, and made our way to the castle end of St Mary Street to the cocktail bar where Eddy's gig was taking place. It was packed with young people on their first stop  of the night, drinking cocktails. People came and went fairly quickly so we were soon able to move from a high seat opposite the bar to a table right next to the band. Eddy was clearly pleased that Clare had come, and she introduced us in the break between sets. A piano, bass, guitar trio, playing post war Jazz standards, perfect live cocktail lounge music, played with vigour by three young musicians a third our age. Wonderful!

I recognised the bass player from the 'Amser Jazz' gig we watched earlier.. He caught my attention, as I thought he was playing a proper string bass from what we heard. I looked, but couldn't find a string bass, just a bass guitar sounding like a proper string bass. Tonight he was playing one. Nice technique I thought, and told him so when we congratulated the band before leaving for a ten o'clock bass. The young guitarist was rooted in the classic jazz guitar tradition of  Wes Montgomery and Barney Kessel, despite all being born well after they'd died. It was a musical treat.

We were lucky not to wait long for an 18 bus to Canton Cross, as the temperature was 5C. Not a night to be standing around for long. I watched the latest episode of Astrid and Rafaelle on catch-up when we returned, as it was on telly while we were out tonight. Bed rather late.

Day of Reckoning

After breakfast, I started work sorting documents and retrieving information for my tax return. That took me until lunchtime as it involved sorting through paper bank statements and my on-line bank account to look for information in the one that I couldn't identify in the other. The trouble with going cashless is that a bank statement expands from one to three pages due to the multiplicity of small entries. When checking donations on-line, it was difficult to spot the particular entries as my particular on-lone account doesn't have a search by name of recipient, or a payment history for each recipient. A whole morning to get it all straight, and then lunch to cook while Clare was out at her study group.

After lunch, I started work on my digital tax return, which then only took me an hour to complete and submit. Some of its internal procedures have been simplified a little, making it easier to complete without puzzlement. Even with my income from un-taxed fees declared, it turned out that HMRC owe me a small sum, which is better than it being the other way round. After all that concentrated effort I felt quite tired and slept in the chair for over an hour.

Then I went out of a walk taking my Song Alpha 68 DSLR with me for the first time in five months. It felt so much heavier to carry than the Olympus. My last two photos were of an egret on the Taff. One was near the shore and the other, slightly blurred, in flight. A couple of mallards noisily arriving nearby alarmed the egret and it took to the wing. I swung the camera up, pointed and shot in what I hoped was the right area. The Sony's slick shutter response did the rest. It's not great, but here it is anyway.

I walked for an hour an a half taking photos, so far autumn looks quite different from the vivid colours of last year due to the extreme heat and dryness of the summer. Dark green tree canopies have been touched with reds and yellows since the end of August. A few trees have lost most of their leaves already, trees that were golden yellow for a month last year. 

After supper we watched a Norwegian documentary in the BBC Four 'Storyville' series about systemic racism against the Norwegian Sami population, focussing on the lack of attention by public authorities of serious cases of incest and child abuse in one remote marginalised poor village. A disturbing account of victims' lives when safeguarding isn't taken seriously at all, due to cultural prejudice. Hard to watch. I think it should be required homework for church safeguarding training courses, not because there's any religion in it, but because of the witness of those who suffered across the generations,

Practical inspiration

A lovely day today, but with the best of the morning given up to the second part of my Zoom Safeguarding training session. To prepare for the session I had to watch the two case study videos on YouTube of the Bishop Peter Ball case - an uncomfortable account of how a secular predator within the church courted members of the British establishment of church and state which was taken in by his charismatic pious personality, blind to how manipulative he was, and then in denial when the law caught up with him. I had seen it before, but it was good to review it for present purposes.

It occurred to me listening to the dramatized transcript of his police interviews that he was a man who sincerely believed in the rightness of his abusive actions, seeing and interpreting them as acceptable to God. On the surface it seemed as if he was promoting a kind of mediaeval penitential asceticism, but dig down beneath the layer of ostensibly orthodox monastic teaching and what you have is a peculiar kind of syncretism, 

Christian faith with a hidden layer of belief in an alien deity that embraces aberrant sexual behaviour, cruelty and domination. The worship of ancient middle eastern deities centred around nature's cycle of fertility and found a place not only for human sacrifice but also temple prostitutes, both male and female, as part of sacred ritual. such secret beliefs justifying his actions to himself wouldn't make much sense of forensic interrogator. There was evidence he had broken the law, but on theological reflection his behaviour stank of idolatry.

In the Zoom session, we looked at a rather complex case study and discussed how its developments should be responded to from a safeguarding perspective. It was very helpful. I think more sessions of this kind would be valuable, to keep us on the alert, as new kind of vulnerability keep emerging in an ever changing, not always benign world. Completing the training means that my Permission to Officiate can now be re-issued, making me completely 'legit' for three years locum service, not just provisionally for the next couple of months.

Afterwards, I started work on my Sunday sermon as I had an idea I to pursue prompted by the training. Looking at the parable of the Good Samaritan in its context of discussion about 'Who is my neighbour', I realised Jesus was good at presenting case studies of real life issues, rather than indulging in abstract generalities, and that got me started. It turns out to be particularly relevant at this time in St German's as the church is hosting a Safeguarding training session for the Ministry Area at the end of this month.

I was so absorbed in what I was doing that it took me until lunchtime to realise that I had forgotten to take the car to N G Motors in Splott for its MOT test, booked for today. I drove straight over and left the car there for the weekend. I'll have to use the bus to get to St German's on Sunday.

After a snack lunch, I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer audio, finishing just in time for the arrival of Kath and Rhiannon mid afternoon for an overnight stay. We planned to go out for a meal but Rhi was feeling unwell with a cold, so we ordered a takeaway from Stefano's instead. 

It was sunny and warm enough to eat outdoors - a very enjoyable meal, followed by a quiet hour of catch-up chatting. The others turned in at eleven, but I went out to stretch my legs and walked in the park for half an hour before bed. 

Training on Zoom

After breakfast this morning, it took me a while to work out exactly the best place to install myself for the Diocese in Europe Zoom training session on Safeguarding, to ensure were I could get a stable signal, and be visible to other participants. There were seventeen of us including the three trainers, from Chaplaincies in Turkey, Norway, Hungary, Germany, Holland, Italy, France and Switzerland. Chaplains, Lay Readers, musicians and other officers, Wardens, an ordinand and a Catholic priest preparing for Anglican ministry, a fine cross section of people engaged in the diocese. It all worked without a hitch, and was a worthwhile session. The homework is to watch two hours worth of video about sex offender Bishop Peter Ball, and all the safeguarding concerns surrounding that notorious case.

After my last disaster involving this training when I got the time wrong, I was nervous about it happening again, or something else technical sabotaging the occasion. The added complication was Clare having a Skype session with her Jazz piano teacher, whose time overlapped with mine - what if two internet video calls simultaneously created problems for us both? Well, it didn't, but Clare had a separate problem with her call, as she kept on losing the audio, although her video was unaffected. In the end she had to give up and troubleshoot. It turned out that her method of attaching her tablet to stand so she could chat hands free while playing was blocking the tiny aperture containing the microphone. Problem solved. She completed her lesson later in the afternoon.

Ashley and I met for a drink at the Saffron Cafe at tea time, then I returned home and remembered that I'd not collected my prescription medication, so I had to go out again to the surgery to pick up the script, and take it to the pharmacy across the road from the surgery, which fortunately was still open. Now I'm fully equipped for my stay in Spain. I did the same before going to Ibiza, though I only took two months worth of medication with me and due to my extended stay, had to secure a prescription in situ and pay for medication. To succeed in this I had to contact the surgery and ask them to find out what the name of the equivalent drug would be in Spain. Bless them, it took a couple of days but I got a useful reply that satisfied the need. Looking back, I'm amazed to think that I navigated my way through all that.

Clare went to the last Amser Jazz session of the term at RWCMD, while I waited for her to return for supper, I watched another episode of 'Coroner' on More Four, and then more after supper. The plot gets more complex and confusing in a seemingly never ending story of professional lives overlaid with  family dysfunction - the price that's paid for being excellent at the job - it's a theme which often seems to crop up in police and medical procedural sagas. A reflection of our era maybe?

It's Owain's fortyfourth birthday today and he's out in Switzerland staying with his friend Ludo in Nyon. He posted a lovely picture of Lac Leman on Instagram this evening. As I expected, the weather has been kind, and he's been 'wild' swimming today in one of the most civilised places to do so. Quite a number of the lakeside Communes with beaches have proper changing rooms with showers, picnic areas and barbequeue areas. It's been like that for the past half century at least. I love that lake.

Safeguarding revisited

I couldn't decide if soreness at the back of my throat over the weekend was due to mild hay fever or a cold developing. When I woke up this morning I had a thick head which felt just like a cold. I can't imagine how I picked this up. It's the first I've had for over a year.

After breakfast I called the daughter whose mother's funeral I'm taking on Thursday. Then I had an email to respond to about wedding blessing arrangements for the service in Sotogrande in the week after I arrive in Estepona. 

Job done, I got as far as vacuuming the carpets and was then distracted from washing the floor by an email offering me a place on a Eurodiocese safeguarding training course in the first week of July. I've waited fifteen months to take the course after having missed the previous one due to a mix up over the time the first Zoom conference started. I noticed the date notification on the confirmation email now has all three time zones covered by Diocese in Europe chaplaincies, clearly labelled, so you have to think about which is your local time when adding it to the diary. 

Last time round, I did the preparatory course work writing a response to four standard questions about safeguarding. It took me a while to track down the archived file, and when I re-read it, saw a number of points which needed to be added or modified. It will be good to complete this course before my next spell of locum ministry starts. Things will have changed over the past two years. 

By the time I'd finished it, was ten to one. Clare was washing the floors, while I got on with cooking pasta with stir fried veg and mussels for lunch. It took me thirty five minutes. Delicious, quite fast food!

The loss of my fit-bit was still bugging me, as I miss it already, and have to carry my phone around with me all the time and use its built in pedometer, not as accurate as having one strapped to the wrist. Why it should matter to me to keep track is really to do with knowing if I've done more or less the right amount of activity in a day, to learn why some days I feel much more tired than others, whether it's natural physical tiredness, stress or maybe a cold, or lacking sleep. It's also about understanding the impact of ageing on my body, and what constitutes a sustainable daily activity level, adequacy not super fitness.

Anyway, after lunch I went over to St German's by bus to search the sacristy and retrace my steps from Sunday, but after half an hour's searching I still couldn't find it. Sad. I'll have to buy another.

This evening, I watched a delightful episode of Springwatch with webcam footage of birds hatchng and chicks growing, plus the birth of some badger cubs, possibly the first time this has been observed and recorded. The programme also showed several warblers being ringed - reed, sedge and Cetti's, all found on a Northumbrian nature reserve. It was lovely to have live close ups pictures of the three different kinds being held briefly after ringing was completed. The differences between them were much easier to see than on the page of a book. Then, the fifth episode of Silent Witness, with more intrigue, deaths and disappearances. Dark dealings between medical researchers and big data companies. The last episode of this new series tomorrow. It's spot the villain time again!

Sobering prospects

A day of changeable weather, sun and wind, clouds and rain. Clare went off on the train the Kenilworth to join Kath for a Carnival Choir concert rehearsal in Birmingham. There were two loads of washing to be finished off. The second one, I put out on the line to blow in the wind, but after a couple hours I had to bring it in and hang everything indoors when it began to rain. 

Details landed of another funeral for me to take in ten days time. Fr Dyfrig the Area Dean sent me the St German's December duty rota, confirming  my engagements there until the end of the year. If had an email too from Emma the diocese in Europe locum co-ordinator. It seems possible I'll be asked to do duties abroad next spring, once I get to the top of the Euro Safeguarding training queue. There are plenty of vacancies at the moment, that's for user.

I spent most of the morning editing the sound file and adding pictures to it for next Thursday's Morning Prayer video. After cooking and eating lunch, I walked in the park with intermittent gusts of wind and rain showers. The changing colours are lovely. I took one picture that to my mind summarises autumn.

               

With nothing also calling for my attention, I whiled away the entire evening relaxing in front of the telly, wondering what next year will bring my way, at home or abroad, maybe both. It will be two years since I last left the country next March, and covid has changed the world so much since then, even if efforts to return things to a semblance of normality abound everywhere in Europe. 

Effective treatments are being developed, and infection surges will happen, unless more effective means of controlling contagion are put into practice universally. At the moment the UK covid infection and death rate is falling back, but in some European countries it isn't. Each is different and the reasons are complex. The word 'pandemic' is used less frequently now, and replaced by the adjective 'endemic' meaning we're stuck with the risk of covid for the foreseeable future, just as we are with 'flu.

COP26 finishes today, with significant progress being made in commitments to glocal carbon reduction, though still not sufficient to reduce global heating to 1,5C, which was the key aim of the conference. All in all, it's a much greater threat to the health of planet, and our own future, than covid is.

Time zone snafu

It's still cold, but at least it's been sunny and dry today, something for which I was especially grateful as I had a trip to Western Cemetery for a burial after driving to St Luke's to take this morning's funeral, very much a local affair. One of the funeral directors' men and the cemetery worker supervising grave digging had been contemporaries with the deceased in secondary school. Unusually, the family decided to organise their own live stream of the service for one of their members in prison. Covid safety measures would not allow an inmate to attend in the company of a prison guard, (something I've witnessed occasionally over the years), but the authorities were willing to arrange an exclusive live video link from church to be arranged. Credit is due to the prison governor for agreeing to this.

I returned home just before two o'clock for my Safeguardng training session on Zoom, only to find that the session had been running already for an hour in Central European time. When I was contacted about the session I explained that there was a slight risk of traffic delay which might make me late, but that I did expect to be back by two. I don't know if the person I was in contact with arranging this was in London, where the Euro-diocesan Safeguarding team is based, or in Brussels. I said I was in Cardiff and would be back by two, but this had evidently not registered, otherwise I wouldn't have been booked in for the session, allowing someone else to take my place. 

It was rather embarrassing, as I got a brief impression that the session was for serving chaplains not locums, whose experience of working in a chaplaincy isn't quite the same. If the Zoom was organised on behalf of the London office by someone in Brussels for people in the dioceses, this was just a simple communications error, neither of us picked up on. But, I'm now wondering if the fact of my being a locum in the UK was taken into account at all. Ah well, I have let the organiser know of the mistake. That's all I can do for the moment.

As this gave me a couple of free hours in the afternoon, I walked into the city centre and enjoyed being out in the streets and shopping centre along with lots of other people, out looking for bargains on the first day all shops are open again for the first time since Christmas Eve. I went to the Camera Centre to investigate a possible lens purchase for my little Olympus, and because I thought of it bought a clamp to use to attach my mobile phone to a tripod while making a video. Because of its shape it's called a 'dog'. Clare was quite bewildered when I told her I'd bought a dog for ten quid! 

I went into John Lewis' store which has also reopened and has huge stocks of discounted goods, especially tempting tech bargains. The top floor is like an Aladdin's cave of red ticket items. Possibly goods from some of the JLP stores nationally that have closed recently have been shipped to stores remaining open. Much temptation. I did buy a box of three cordless phones. Ours are ancient and their batteries are dying. Clare says they are the wrong sort, a health risk. I don't really know what this means. Why would they be on sale if they were?

Unusually busy

More bright cold sunny weather today. At last some free time to spend on preparing for the rest of the week's services on WhatsApp, and making contact with chief mourners arranging funerals at which I'll be officiating this week and next. I uploaded this morning's as soon as I woke up, and got tomorrow's ready during the day.

For this week's assignment, Clare recorded all six resurrection Gospel readings. I think it's good to have the change of voices. Doing this for a continuous live recording is too complex and stressful given the resources available, and the recording time it requires. Inserting an audio file against a photo into the video stream was easy to do. I recorded Morning Prayer, and my reflection of the Gospel of the day separately, and this allowed me to edit them together using Windows Movie Maker. The program is perhaps long in the tooth, but I've used it enough times now not to find it hard to recall how to, and that's what counts, when you're under time constraints, and want to do this as well as possible.

I took a break for a walk in the afternoon, and worked again in the evening. One thing I had forgotten but which was nagging me in the back of my mind was the preparation for the on-line Safeguarding training I have committed to do in order to renew my Diocese in Europe PTO. Maybe I'll never get another locum duty assignment abroad, but I'd prefer to be ready if asked and am free to travel safely etc.. What matters is keeping up to date on an important dimension of pastoral care and awareness applicable to any parish or chaplaincy. The ways in which people can abuse and harm each other seems to keep growing. We have to 'expect the unexpected', as Ashley would say.

The on-line training seminar is a week today, and before that I have to answer, and submit to the training team a series of questions in a digital work book about the nature of safeguarding and the church. There is a deadline for this on Wednesday this week, so that nagging feeling was that I'd better got on and do it pronto. I sat up when I'd finished my other tasks for the day and looked at the questionnaire, thinking I'd do it in the morning, but thoughts occurred to me rapidly, so I wrote to completion, emailed it and went to bed later than I should have done. This training promises to be very interesting, despite being on-line and not in the flesh.

My, that was a busy day!

Unreasonable delay

After breakfast and Morning Prayer, I drove to St Catherine's for perhaps the first time, certainly in the Polo, but maybe since we've been living in the Parish, as it's such a short walk from home. The reason for this was to transport the heavy Bosch vacuum cleaner which Clare bought when I was in Ibiza last year. It's proved to be too heavy for either of us to lug around the house with painful joints. I offered it to church warden Sue for the church, as it's quite a powerful device, better suited to cleaning dusty surfaces in church. A new much lighter one arrives this afternoon.

For the first time since St John's Day in Christmastide, I celebrated the Eucharist this morning, with an improvised sermon. There were eight of us regulars present and I much enjoyed doing so. Although I've not presided for three months, I was more relaxed at ease doing so this time, not worrying about going through the necessary anti-covid precautions. The correct routine seems now to have embedded itself in my memory.

I received an email from the European diocesan Safeguarding team about participating in the on-line Stage Two training which is now a prerequisite for those who wish to hold a diocesan PTO. Those who have done it say it's a worthwhile activity, and even though it's unlikely that I'll get an opportunity to do locum duty abroad any time soon, I intend to keep my PTO so there'll no hold-up if I am asked again.

Back on 23rd February I was due to have a telephone consultation about blood pressure medication side effects with a pharmacological consultant, who cancelled for reasons of sickness on that morning. Today I received an appointment letter for the 25th May. The initial appointment request had been made by my GP last November. For better or worse I've taken the matter into my own hands and feel better for not taking an additional daily tablet whose side effects made me feel worse. There's something absurd about this. 

Just suppose the drug combinations was putting me at more risk than the side effects indicated? I could be dead waiting that long for an assessment. People with mental health conditions get stuck on medications they don't need and which rob them of well-being because their case doesn't get reviewed. The Covid crisis provides an alibi for delayed treatments, so there's no point in making an issue of it. I think I'll cancel the appointment, but suppose I should report this to my GP, in case the system flags me up as 'no-show' or 'non-cooperative' to cover up the uselessness of a service which doesn't even bother to enquire of a patient what impact the consultation delay might have.

Fran and Mark came over to see us and arrived just as I was returning from collecting our Beanfreaks weekly grocery order. We had a cup of te in the garden and then went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields together. One they watched the footage of the icon video I shot with them, they decided to revise the script and re-shoot it at a different location. The editing has now been done and it'll be ready for showing on the Parish 'Holy Ground' webcast in Easter Week. I'm pleased they were able to get to a finished product they were satisfied with. I had fun being a small part of the process.

Church on hold again?

There were twenty of us for the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. The new covid variant scare is having hitting people's confidence. It seems tonight's PCC is set to discuss whether or not to continue to offer public worship, as some attendees are slower to disperse from the churchyard than is considered to be desirable. 

Clergy are being enjoined not to stand outside to greet people from a suitable distance as they leave, as this leads to people hanging around outdoors. Outside the church gates on the street, in the shops, the risks will be high because the public realm isn't as well controlled. It doesn't take much to ask people not to take off their masks while they are within the gates. They'll understand why. Outside, it's up to each person to assess risk for themselves.

It troubles me that if clergy can't see and hail worshippers from afar and ask how they are, offer a word of support and encouragement, what will it do to pastoral relationships? On-line isn't enough, a face on a screen doesn't allow a pastor to notice the true colour of someone's complexion, their tone of voice, their movement when they walk, all of which inform the relationship the shepherd has with the flock. I found it in Ibiza - seeing only half a dozen people over a three month period, face to face, very occasionally. It was impossible to establish meaningful pastoral relationships with people I was there to serve. That was the worst thing, not being able to assess from personal contact what was really happening to people. Social media can't be trusted when it comes to baring one's soul. 

And all this happens on a day when the key Gospel phrase is 'Come and see ...' 

It comes in a week when a contagion expert said on the news that the risk is far less outdoors, with or without a mask, although research into this is still on-going and not yet peer reviewed and published. The most serious risk is in uncontrolled indoor settings, like supermarkets, on which new health and safety requirements have been imposed of necessity this weekend. If data on supermarket based contagion is available, why not data on contagion in compliant churches? Without proper information, judgements are likely to be made on the basis of anxious hearsay - as if we needed that!

In church, we pray in a highly controlled environment, sitting in well spaced out pews, wearing obligatory masks. Those who attend behave considerately of others, and don;t hang about indoors longer than they need to. We're told there's a hugely increased risk, but without a shred of data to show how many Anglican congregations worshipping together compliantly are known to have been involved in transmitting infection. Sure, a few churches have blatantly ignored the risk from the outset, carried on as normal and become 'superspreaders', but does that mean the rest of us can't be trusted to behave compliantly?  Caution, self-discipline, good information are always essential in Christian conduct, even more so in such dangerous days. Timidity is understandable and inevitable, recklessness is folly, but giving in to the tide of fear - how does that witness to the Gospel?

On my walk in the park after lunch, the Taff water level was down again and the resident Merganser was back on the rock slabs where family can be seen. On the same outcrop stood a cormorant as I was passing and I got a nice photo of the two of them in each other's space. The merganser moved ,then fluffed up its feathers as it turned its back on the cormorant. The cormorant then plopped into the water and took off.

Afterwards, I decided to have a go at reclaiming space in my Gmail accounts now 85% full. If storage fills up completely I'll be required to rent extra space, but why bother if most of the data stored is redundant or irrelevant? Last year I deleted emails from 2007 when I registered the accounts, up to 2010 when I retired. Since then, a great number of emails were CBS correspondence, not necessary to keep as they are copied on the CBS Gmail account. 

Over the past ten years, the size of photo attachments has risen tenfold, as many senders don't bother to downsize them before sending. Also thousands of notifications that should have been deleted weren't. Google's fast search options mask the accumulation of redundant files and big attachments. After an hour's work, I got rid of ten gigabytes of data on one account and seven on another. One thing which I discovered on other file storage systems too. The deleted content of the account trash can must also be deleted before file space is reclaimed. Sneaky that one! A worthwhile effort, I think.

I had an email after lunch from Emma in the Euro-diocesan office about the new requirement for holders of PTO doing locum duty that they now need to do a further on-line Safeguarding training, before their PTO is renewed. The five year renewal cycle has been reduced to three years, the accent on training is welcome in a fast changing environment, especially regarding the rise of on-line forms of abuse. Emma works from home in deepest rural Essex where, like here they've had phenomenal amounts of rain. There was a tiny video clip of the little stream at the bottom of her garden, swollen and spilling over its banks. It's the same in many parts of Britain.

Much to my surprise, I had an email from Bishop June while I was out walking, noting with appreciation my small effort to support the Parish ministry team these past few months. How could I do anything else as an elderly churchgoer who happens to be ordained and still fit enough to function from time to time. In present circumstances ministry is extra difficult and demanding of new skills, stamina and patience. It's a relief to me that I no longer have responsibility for holding everything together and giving a lead. Acting on orders, as long as I can do that well and correctly is all I can hope to do nowadays. It's not a bad thing at all. President to be Joe Biden is my age. I'm glad not to be in his shoes! 

ON telly tonight, we watched the first of a six part drama about a woman whose property developer husband dies mysteriously at 48 while he's showing them around the high tech new home he's just had built for them to move into. It's a sort of black comedy, that may turn into a comedy crimmie, I suppose. In my Geneva days I was summoned urgently to offer pastoral support to the traumatized wife and daughter of a member of the congregation who was a banker. He dropped dead in the middle of a working day, and I was asked to accompany them to the chapel of rest where his body had just been laid out. He was still in his work suit, looking smart, eerie and unreal. 'That's not my Daddy!' exclaimed his 13 year old daughter, and they both wept. 

Watching this brought it all back to me, whether it was really true to life or not. That made it uncomfortable to watch, not entertaining at all. I am interested in how it plays out, however, given the problems which arise when someone dies intestate or mired in debt or cash-flow issues, especially as bank accounts are automatically frozen when someone dies. It's understandable that some elderly people are still in the habit of keeping a stash of cash under the bed, reluctant to entrust all their wordly goods to the self serving paranoia of a modern banking system.

Better safe than sorry

I woke up just the second time last night at half past six, and couldn't get off to sleep properly again afterwards. After Thought for the Day, I uploaded today's Morning Prayer without a hitch, then got up for breakfast, conscious of not having enough sleep. Often I doze off after praying, but not today. I've had an email from Emma at Eurodiocese HQ asking me to do the on-line stage two Safeguarding course, now a requirement for clergy with PTOs. I'm happy to do this, whether or not it ever becomes possible to do another spell of locum duty abroad. 

I'm conscious there are all sorts of low level abusive habits or tolerated practices persisting in the life of the church, some of them to do with bizarre kinds of piety, but others to do with changes in governance and management styles under the guise of coping with crisis. Clergy and lay leaders can be victims as well as perpetrators. I'll be interested to see if any of this is reflected in the stage two course.

This afternoon I walked up to Llandaff Weir for the first time since 22nd November. There's been so much rain over the past couple of months that the footpath and surroundings stayed waterlogged and muddy, treacherous to walk on. A photo I took that day shows a huge tree stump, roots trunk and remains of branches, lodged at the top of weir in the same position as it had been since last February's floods. I think it must have washed out of the river bank nearby, eroded by the storm water surge. I was curious to see if it was still stuck there after the more recent spell of heavy rain, and it wasn't. 

There was no sign of it among the entangled remnants of trees and bushes trapped by island reefs of pebbles that build up in the river bed. Could something that heavy, perhaps half a ton of wet wood, have been carried further down the river out of sight? Or was it necessary for the river management team finally to remove it, as even more wood washed downstream built up and impeded the water flow? I'll never know the answer, but it's clear that work has been done along the banks of the Taff to improve the outflow of flood water.

On the walk back I was pleased to find the Cathedral open to visitors. A dozen English Cathedrals are now closed to visitors and offering only on-line services, because of soaring infection rates. In Wales the rate of increase is showing signs of slowing, but numbers of infections are still high and rising. First Minister Mark Drakeford instigated partial lock-down in Wales before England did, and the measures have been tightened since. Shopper behaviour in supermarkets is being identified as a source of contagion, as well as indoor meetings of households, are now to be restricted. Wales was first then England followed, again.

In the evening I watched the fifth episode of 'Spiral' on iPlayer, having discovered that all ten episodes of this final series are already available to watch. It means I'm not tied to watching later on Saturday evening and ending up not having an early night before church.

Clare's recently been learning to play a 1950s jazz ballad 'Cry me a river'. Julie London's recording with the legendary electric jazz guitarist Barney Kessel and bassist Ray Leatherwood made it into the hit parade after it was performed in the epic Lil' Richard rock 'n roll movie 'The Girl can't help it' in 1956, the year I started grammar school. The song was written for Ella Fitzgerald to sing in a movie, but it was dropped from the story-line, and she sang it in an album of her own 1961. By that time it was a cover version of London's hit. I still remember the words off by heart. I found it on YouTube and played it to Clare this evening. She remembers them too. 

Police checking in Ibiza Port

I drove to St Rafel this morning to rendezvous with Solveig for the trip to Ibiza town to see if it's possible to get the police check started. It's a place that's overcrowded with cars, so we parked about 3km away from the police office in Ibiza Port and walked in. On the way, we stopped for a drink at a cafe and went through the form I'd prepared. Solveig thought it would be a good idea to re-write the whole thing on an officially printed multi-sheet forumlario 790, rather than use the downloaded version. She put her mailing address into it, instead of mind, to be certain it could be posted to a Spanish address in case there was any doubt about mailing it back to Wales.

We continued down one of the main streets, stopped at a bank which happily accepted the €3.78 fee in cash, and put an official 'pagado' stamp on the application.

 the Police port office, where we found entry controlled by a couple of friendly cops who explained that the applicant hand to enter unaccompanied. Different from previously Solveig said, but the reason soon became clear. Half the number of seats for queuing applicants were empty with a label saying Do Not Use. The idea is to keep a healthy space between individuals, a precaution against covid-19 in a confined space. Sensible. I took a ticket, and only waited a couple of minutes until it was my turn. Business, I suspect, is pretty quiet at the moment.

My form was scrutinised and scanned on to the computer network for delivery to the Generalitat office in Mallorca, which I failed to reach eight days ago. My form was handed back to me with a receipt ticket stuck on it for reference. It'll be processed and a Certificado de Penales Antecedentes will be mailed to Solveig in a couple of weeks time. Then it'll come to me and I can email a copy to HQ in London. Such a relief to see the back of that job at last!

Fortunately it was a lovely sunny day. I took several photos on the return walk. You can walk or drive on to a ferry for Formentera from the quayside, not far from the Police office. The ancient citadel and old town sit on a hill to the west of the marina. There's lots more to see, but that merits a return trip. I will probably leave the car in St Antoni or St Josep and take the bus when I feel ready for a proper day trip.

I had an email from cousin Dianne to tell me that cousin Lindsay, whose wedding we attended last summer died yesterday. He'd been living with prostate cancer for a couple of years, but was defeated by it in the end. He rediscovered his cradle Anglicanism in later life, and faced his illness with deep rooted faith. Belonging to the church enabled him to meet Lynne the love of his life, and after a delightful season of friendship, they got engaged and married last August. It's very sad, but I believe both were greatly blessed by finding each other. Sadly, I am stuck here and will miss the funeral, but will pray for him and his wife as best I can. May he rest in peace.

Real and fictional crises

It's been a warm and sunny day, around 20 degrees with no cooling breeze, so the windows have been open, warming up the house. I walked up to Es Cuco for the few things I didn't buy yesterday, then Dave came by at the end of the morning to sort out the telly. It seems the Freesat box is dying, but he's fixed the system by another route to give me a selection of channels BBC included.

Solveig rang to discuss getting a police record check locally. As Chaplaincy Safeguarding Officer, she's been successful in doing this with others in the past. We're going into Ibiza tomorrow to see if this also applies to me. 

I went for a longer afternoon walk, exploring side roads criss-crossing the terrain, linking a great many fincas with fine houses, and the occasional smallholding. When I got back, I mashed two thirds of a jar of chick peas into hummous with a lemon from the tree outside the front door and the tahini I bought yesterday. The result is quite satisfying.

I lost internet connection after supper. It happens here occasionally, and can be cured by switching off the house electricity from the mains for ten seconds, and letting everything reboot.

The last three episodes of the world's longest running radio soap opera 'The Archers' has been very interesting to follow, since there was an explosion at Grey Gables Hotel at the end Sunday night's episode, with some powerful emotional scenes. An ambitious undertaking for the scriptwriters to get right inside a major incident featuring a succession of familiar characters, all well portrayed in shock because of the crisis. I think they've done very well so far. 

No mention of covid-19 on The Archers yet! It's been declared a pandemic by the WHO now, as it's spread to so many countries. Heaven know what the final death toll will be globally. I'm out here en el campo, and have have limited contact with everyone other than the few church folk who come here for bible study, plus Dave fixing the telly. All are geared up to take precautions. It's possible to go shopping and have minimal contact with anything in the store other than what I buy. If any shop person fell sick with the virus, I guess it would soon have to shut for disinfecting. 

Even so, feeling a bit vulnerable being here on my own is inevitable, and calls for extra effort to trust in God to see me through. I'm used to being on my own both at home and away, but the past year has exposed me to a kind of vulnerability I never experienced in life before. It's been a healthy learning experience in many ways. If I have learned anything about Providence, this puts it to the test.

      

Ash Wednesday

I went to the Eucharist of the day at St Catherine's this morning. There were nineteen of us and most stayed for coffee and a chat afterwards. Mother Francis preached well using the text of the hymn 'O Love that will not let me go', and telling the story of its author, the blind preacher George Matheson. It was a cheery gathering, and perhaps because I was in a quiet observant mood, I kept noticing how kind and attentive people were towards each other. As we parted company I had to wish them Happy Easter, as this was the last time I'd see them until my return in two months time. That felt strange.

After lunch, I phoned up and booked a room in Bristol Airport Holiday Inn for Monday night, so I can get some sleep before rising early for my flight to Mallorca at 07.05 on Tuesday. Then I walked over to the Sophia Gardens coach station and booked a ticket for the 17.40 coach to the airport. In the evening, I activated my new travel money card and registered an online account that will enable me to keep and eye on my euro spending. 

A job that's been in my pending tray for over a week, checking out whether or not my DBS update service registration now works. I had occasion to call the gov.uk troubleshooting hotline over error messages which seemed to be caused by me having two separate CRB checks running at the same time. I was able to access my account with the reference number given by the troubleshooter and this gave me confirmation of the Church in Wales certificate. I then added the Diocese in Europe certificate to the same account as I'd been instructed. As suspected before it was clarified by the call, I have and need only one access path to both applications on the DBS update portal. 

I find all this digital detail hard going these days, too much time spent typing in numbers and re-checking them, no matter how good the cause or convenient the purpose. Reducing human beings to a collection of numbers and use statistics is not my idea of being made in the image of God. Giving up surfing or reading newsfeeds and tweets for Lent in favour of a good book might be worth doing, but it's impossible to give up all things digital as almost everything we do relies on it, one way or another. What are we doing to ourselves? Where will it end?

This last few days army and police helicopters have been evident in the city skies by day and even by night, on a joint training exercise relating to major incident preparedness, according to the news media. As I was walking through Bute Park, two RAF Lynx helicopters circulated overhead and landed in the field by the Ambulance station. One was clearly a rescue craft, the other was armed, to provide protective cover. Services designed to protect citizens have to be ready for anything I guess.
I got some good photos to prove the co-incidence of my being there during the ten minutes they were on the ground. You'll find them here

America calling

I attended the midweek Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. In the afternoon I had a request to take a second funeral next week. I have one Thursday and one Friday. 

Clare called on WhatsApp after lunch, just as she was starting her day in America. She gave me a video tour of Rachel's garden at her new home in Tempe, with its lovely citrus trees all laden with ripe fruit. Suburban housing there seems to have been built in an orchard area, so many properties and the avenues have fruit trees, many of them with the fruit not harvested. They picked olives from a roadside tree and were going to cure and store them as an experiment. Jaz can walk to and from her new school. On her way she sometimes goes scrumping neglected grapefruit, which she loves. It seems the new school is good her her, as she's getting top grades in all her subjects.

Two PTOs in different dioceses means two police checks, and two different invitations to register for access with the on-line update service. I did one successfully last week, and attempted to do the second one today, and ended up unable to access either. Fortunately the .gov.uk help line was able to explain that there was a minor glitch in registering volunteers, who are exempt from paying a fee to access the service. One only registration is required to access both CRB checks it seems. I have yet to pluck up the courage to have another go. I don't need any more frustrations in life at the moment. It will have to wait. The second paper copy should show up in a few days time.

Endless waiting

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's yesterday morning. On my return I found an email from the hospital patient care coordinator confirming in writing what was said to me on the phone about a thirty six week queue for minor surgery, and appointment notifications only being sent out six weeks before the due date. In terms of patient care this a scandalous. 

There's no way of knowing or planning anything ahead. In the last couple of weeks the general improvement in the condition of the wound is making it easier to live with, and I feel confident I could manage abroad and not get into trouble with it. It's just not having any idea of which period between now and summer to avoid being away. I want to book Clare and I on a cruise in late April , but dare I? I must be here first week in May when I'm booked to baptise the son of PCSO Andy and his wife Michelle at St German's.

It looks as if the only recourse I have now is to pay for surgery. That way at least I can have a definite appointment date to work around. Meanwhile, I continue to scan old photo negatives to take my mind off the whole affair.

This morning I celebrated the Eucharist at St John's, then wrote a letter to Mrs Cornish the surgeon to communicate directly to her the impact of this affair on my life and work, and saying yet again that being put into a position of not knowing is driving me to take the private option. I don;t know whether I will get any response, but we'll see. I also wrote to my GP, giving an account of all that has happened since last November - I don't think I have been to see her since then, as I've not needed to. I feel I need to seek advice about foreign travel at this stage before going any further. I'm supposed to be in Ibiza a month from now. If I have to cancel, I shouldn't leave it any longer for their sakes.

I'm also waiting for both my Llandaff and European CRB checks to deliver, so that my PRO can be renewed. I know these are being processed, as I've been informed, with the exception of the Spanish police check, which is still 'in the wind'. At least if it doesn't arrive in time for Ibiza, I'll be granted a temporary limited PTO to cover me, so I've been told.

I've been enjoying my afternoon walks this week as the weather has been mild and sunny. Sunset is no around quarter past five, which gives extra time in the daylight outdoors before supper. The first snowdrops are out and daffodils appearing everywhere. So early.

No lessons learned, history repeats itself

Still no appointment letter from the hospital in the post Monday morning. That's twelve days waiting. So, I rang the surgeon's secretary to enquire. I was disturbed to discover that she didn't have access to Mrs Cornish's surgical appointments diary. She didn't apologise for not acknowledging my message of Friday afternoon last. She told me that Ms Cornish is on study leave this week, and in my opinion this may mean the next appointment lists have not yet been prepared, but who knows? 

She wasn't very forthcoming in response to my concerns but did say that there is now a 36 week waiting list for minor surgery. This disturbed me even further. She promised to email Ms Cornish and enquire on my behalf, as I am so concerned to know when I will be seen. Knowing if I am going to be available for duty or not is a matter of urgency. She said the pre-op assessment handled scheduling and that I could call them, which I did. Their auto-response device intended to deal with waiting list enquiries wasn't working and disconnected me. I was so infuriated by this I decided to re'activate my complaint procedure with the Local Health Board, and wrote an email describing what happened. It's a repeat performance of what happened last June-July.

Today I was called by a hospital trouble shooter and told officially about the 36 week waiting list, but not whether this was from when Mrs Cornish saw me or from the pre-op assessment appointment. I was offered no information about where I might be in that 36 week queue, only that I would receive six weeks notice of such an appointment. It seems that my final operation is regarded now as 'routine' and 'non-urgent', despite reassurances that it would be dealt with sooner or later because of the tissue over-granulation problem I experience. No explanation offered for the reasons behind this. I said that such a lack of definite information was outrageous and unacceptable and that I would be escalating this complaint.

I then set about writing to the Welsh Assembly's First Minister, to whom I wrote back in July to tell him of this repeat performance. Delays are evidently due to lack of resources and that's common knowledge, but it doesn't provide an excuse for keeping patients in the dark about the practical details of their treatment plan. That is just bad management, and needs to be addressed. I walked down to Mark's constituency office and posted the letter through the door, in the hope that ti will be picked up and read tomorrow.

I feel as if I am in limbo at the moment, not knowing where I stand, unable to confirm commitments I want to make until I know when I will be dealt with.

This morning, Laura, one of the Euro-diocesan safeguarding administrators rang to tell me about the need to make a digital CRB check application. After racking my brains, I vaguely remember doing this for the diocese five years ago when the new system was in its infancy. But I still need to prove who I am with supporting documents, posted or emailed to HQ.

This afternoon I popped in to see Emma and Nick and their wee bairns, and got Emma to countersign my old and new passport copies and a copy of a pension document with my address and NHS number on it, all required to support a digital CRB check application. Then I did the on-line application, and sent digitized copies of my proof of i/d to Laura. One more job done. Just in case there's any CRB confusion due to my recent change of passport, I emailed her and the Church in Wales safeguarding office a certified copy of my new passport, as queries will go back to these offices rather than me, as they are the agencies requesting checks. I wonder when the Church in Wales will switch to the same system as the CofE has had for five years already. It seems we're always a bit behind the times.

Job done at last

I woke up early after retiring late last night, so I woke up tired. After breakfast, rather fearful of making mistakes and having to re-print and re-fill the dreaded Spanish police check application form, I steeled myself and got to work.

It took me two hours to fill in, and much longer over the past fortnight to figure out exactly what I needed to do correctly. Legalese in a foreign culture is just as hard to decode if you're not an insider, no matter what the language. In the end I had to ring the diocesan administrator and quiz her about a few outstanding points, but once reassured, I was able to complete the job.

By midday, I'd taken it to the Post Office and sent it off recorded delivery. A thin A4 envelope, it cost me eight pounds to send, which astonished me. It's now a matter of waiting for a reply. I wonder if I'll get an operation date before my CRB certificate arrives from Spain? Admittedly I should hear about the former this week, but you never know with the NHS.

Late afternoon, I walked with Clare to the coach station where she bought herself a new coach card and booked a ticket to Heathrow for when she takes a flight to Phoenix to visit Rachel and Jasmine in two weeks time. After a few days of relatively mild weather a chill wind blew over Pontcanna Fields. I was feeling sluggish and tired, not having had enough sleep last night, and it made walking at a brisk pace an effort. Clare walked the mile and a quarter to the coach station a lot faster than I in an effort to get warm, and arrived there a couple of minutes ahead of me. 

I watched the conclusion of this week's 'Silent Witness' episode, started last night. It was very good in portraying the dilemmas of a busy forensic scientist daughter accompanying her dying mother with Alzheimer's disease, as one of the narrative threads running alongside a complex case. Beautifully acted by Liz Carr.