Snowdon walk

The day started cloudy. It felt as if rain might follow but the clouds were high and got higher, so we set out for Llanberis via Dyffryn Nantlle to show Mark and Saralee something of the slate industry landscape.

We stopped at the Trigonos centre to show them Plas Baladeulyn, where we stayed with Rachel last month, before ascending to Rhydd Du and thence to Llanberis.  We stopped for the second time this week in the vicinity of Caernarfon, where a 4G phone signal could be acquired. My work Blackberry showed its merit in supplying a transient wi-fi hotspot which the others could use to catch up on life back home in the USA, while I took a work phone call. It's quite rare to have to use this facility, given how frequently wi-fi is now available in public places, but such a blessing in time of need.

Mark and Saralee walked up to the half-way mark on the path to Snowdon summit. Clare and I were less ambitious this time, walking only a quarter of the way up before returning to Penceunant Isaf tea room for respite and a chat with Steffan our host while we waited for the others to rejoin us for tea.

Then we paid a brief visit to the National Slate Museum during its last half hour of opening for them to have a look around, before travelling back to Nefyn. It was a long journey but worth the effort, and once again the weather was kind to us all day, with only the briefest of showers on the mountainside.

Pilgrimage, ancient and modern

Today we drove to the far end of the Llyn Peninsula and walked in glorious sunshine on the coastal path opposite Ynys Enlli - Bardsey Island - such a wonderful gentle landscape of grassland, gorse and heather, tranquil, populated with grazing sheep and walkers like us. 

Outside the coastguard look out hut on the highest promontory of the hills surmounting the sea cliffs, Clare got chatting in Welsh to a couple visiting from Llanelli down south. He revealed that he was born in Llyn and moved south when he married a South Walian. When I asked him which village, he said "Pistill". Then he mentioned the name of Pen Isa'r Lon farm as his birthplace, the very house in which we're staying. He was much moved by the co-incidence. He remarked approvingly on the cross I always wear and said they attended a Pentecostal Church back home. We parted with warm handshakes and a photograph.

I made my way back to the car, in need of a drink of water, then walked down to where St Mary's well was indicated on signage and maps, in the fold of the terrain leading down to the water's edge. This was where ancient pilgrims made their way to take a boat across to visit Ynys Enlli, the isle of twenty thousand saints. The last part of the descent to the waterline has no steps and is quite rough, but just before the going got tough for someone like me walking in sandals, a spring of water breaks out of the cleft of grassy ground and trickles across the rocks into the sea. That's the well, no physical structure, just pure water, flowing from the ground. A place where salt and sweet water mix was always a place of wonder in ancient times. The sheer peacefulness of this wild yet gentle place remains awe inspiring.

On the steep climb back up from the spring, which for me involved chasing a single butterfly to photograph, I met a man descending, who stopped and asked me what I'd found below. I described the spring I'd located above the water's edge, and as we parted company, he expressed the hope that whatever he discovered he'd experience the grace to be found in the place - an unusual thing for a stranger to say, except perhaps in a place much visited by pilgrims walking in hope through the past millennium.

I met up with the others picnicking in the lee of a stone wall close to the car park, and after lunch we made our way down to Aberdaron, to visit the lovely church and village next to the beach, where the poet R S Thomas spent twenty years of his ministry and wrote some of the most spiritually profound poetry of the twentieth century. St Hywyn's Parish Church is currently having its roof renovated. It's open for visitors, but half of it is a building site. I was reminded of that year in St John's City Parish Church, when we succeeded in keeping the place open to visitors for the three months it took to repair and redecorate the building interior.

I bought a volume of R S Thomas' collected poems in the village store, to compensate for the absence of any volumes of his later than 1978, which was the last time I bought anything of his. Nourishment for years to come. I love his sparse style and vivid use of imagery. To my mind his work has a touch of the zen master about it. I found the others huddled outside a shop overlooking the beach, taking advantage of the free wi-fi signal to connect with the outside world. The wi-fi where we're staying is still ignoring us, cause of huge frustration to us, who normally take connectivity for granted.
 

Clynnog Fawr

Today we drove into Caernarfon, about half an hour away from Nefyn. We visited the Castle and had lunch in Jake's Cafe, just inside the old town walls. Before heading for home we crossed the river Arfon and walked along the shore, just after the high tide turned. I caught sight of a curlew landing to feed just thirty feet from the promenade, and was delighted to catch a few photos at relatively close range. It made my day.

On the return journey we stopped in the hamlet of Clynnog Fawr, which has an unusually large Parish Church, for this region, dating from 15-16th century. A spacious monastic collegiate church before the reformation, important for pilgrims because of its association with St Beuno, a founding father of Christian life in Gwynedd. In the sixth century he established a 'Clas' here, a small group of monks living and learning together, welcoming and teaching others. 

There's a separate chapel to the southwest of the church said to have once been a shrine and possibly Beuno's burial place, although other places like Pistill's ancient church also claim this honour. Several churches and associated hostels flourished along the route, in the mediaeval heyday of pilgrimages from Holywell on the eastern border of North Wales to Ynys Enlli, Bardsea island. 

These churches are in a fight for survival in our times of decline in traditional Christian faith, yet this route is still walked by latter day pilgrims and spiritual truth seekers, looking into the past of this beautiful numinous region to find inspiration and guidance for the future, whether they are committed church members or not.

Port Dinllaen

The local weather forecast for the week is a mix of cloud, rain and sunshine, rather changeable. It's hard to check regularly as this area suffers from lack of good connectivity, whether by landline or by mobile phone. The advertised wi-fi at our holiday let is non-existent, either too slow or too congested with other users to let us log on to the hotspot SSID displayed. It's rather frustrating, and reminds me of how it was in Aberteifi town when we holidayed there a couple of years ago.

It was a day to explore local shores, however, with more sunshine and blue skies than cloud. We drove to Morfa Nefyn the next village, and thence to nearby Porth Dinllaen beach car park, to walk on the coastal path along the peninsula through an impressively sited golf course, as far as we could go. There was a colony of a dozen or so cormorants inhabits the tiny offshore promontory of Carreg Ddu, offering some rewarding photos.

We returned along the shore path to the Ty Coch Inn for a superb pub lunch with local craft brewed ale. It's a secluded unspoilt hamlet right on the water's edge, with an interesting history. This and the neighbouring Nefyn bay were once home to herring fishing and fishing boat construction. A bid was made in the early nineteenth century to attract the main ferry to Ireland to this sheltered bay, but lost out to Holyhead, across the water in Anglesey. The Ty Coch pub and out-buildings were intended to  be a point of departure for travellers to Ireland, but the venture failed, leaving the peninsula as a rural backwater when fishing and boat building declined, until the arrival of the golf course, and modern tourism. 

A lovely day of walking, concluded with an excellent shared meal and conversation. We're taking turns to cook for each other.

 

In the steps of St Beuno

Went to the Nefyn village store early to get some sugar and a Sunday newspaper, to learn of Jeremy Corbyn's victory in the Labour leadership election. The tabloids disgraced themselves as ever with their expressions of ill-will in catchy headlines and copy. They've been sniping for weeks, aided and abetted by establishment politicians fearful of losing their grip on the reins of power. Thousands of people have ignored the messages projected by media moguls, to elect Corbyn. I don't much like all of his policies, but he is a decent straightforward man and a radical politician. The vote in his favour is an impressive act of contempt toward to powerful elite of manipulators who have controlled the British mass media for generations. Where do we go from here I wonder?

I found the Parish Church of Dewi Sant in the village, advertising an eleven o'clock service, so I returned for breakfast then came back with Clare to attend the service. It was led by the lay Reader and in the absence of the Vicar, it was Ministry of the Word with Communion by Extension. One priest looking after nine churches, and a group of churches struggling to come to terms with the need to re-shape its offering of services so that one priest and one active lay reader could cope. 

Before the service there was a report on recent meetings held to try and establish a new pattern of services and pastoral revision. Many things are as yet unresolved, people are reluctant to change their worship habits. Thankfully Bishop Andy is not enthusiastic about church closures, but rather looking for fresh ways to ensure they stay in use as assets to aid church growth. But there's no doubt that more ministerial support and leadership is required, even just to make effective change happen. Nine small worshipping groups in small communities in a large rural area that gets lots of visitors. It's a tough challenge indeed, as it is elsewhere across the Province.

After the service and a bit more shopping, we returned, then went for a walk along the coast path, as far as the lovely church of St Deiniol, foundation dating back to the time of the saint himself in the sixth century. This was one of several churches he founded in North Wales. It's on the old pilgrims' route to Ynys Enlli – Bardsey – the island of ten thousand saints, a the end of the peninsula. This was a popular enough route a thousand years ago, for there to be hospices in the area, serving both hale and hearty travellers and the sick. There was a lepers' hospice and the north side of the chancel has a lepers' window. 

The present building dates back to the 11-12th century, and has a beautiful round font carved with celtic knot work, that must be at least nine hundred years old, if not older, like the one in Patricio which I visited earlier in the year.

Journey to Nefyn

By ten this morning I'd picked up Saralee and Mark from their hotel. By eleven they'd decanted their essential week's luggage into our two small suitcases, to fit everything needed into the car boot. By eleven fifteen we were on our way up the A470 in decent travelling weather, making our way to Nefyn, on the north coast of Llyn. 

We stopped for a hearty pub lunch in Builth Wells, then for tea in Porthmadog harbour, did our food shopping in Lidl's on the outskirts and arrived forty minutes later than planned. This meant that the owner was leaving us late for a supper engagement and gave us hasty instructions to get us started. 

We failed to ask the wi-fi password, and found the weak and variable phone signal didn't aspire to 4G, and just occasionally in down-times offered to connect us to Irish BT services – on a clear day you can see the mountains of County Wicklow in Eire from our holiday house at Penisarlon farm on a hillside above the cliffs in the hamlet of Pistill a mile and a half east of Nefyn itself. 

The view was amazing, as the sun set through a sky alive with fast moving small clouds. What a great place to stay, with or without proper connectivity.

Night at the opera

Back to the office this morning to complete the commissioning of the new PC, trimming its desktop of all those surplus crapware program tiles, and installing Libre Office. I'd forgotten my flash drive with the installation files on it, and set about downloading them again, happily a speedy affair on our BT office broadband. Much to my surprise, when installation had started I discovered that I was in possession of the newest Libre Office version 5. I hadn't noticed any mention of this in my daily tech blog reading. I then had to update the other machines in the office, and later at home. Even if the improvements are relatively minor, it's always worthwhile. It's got a lot quicker and slicker in the past year, whilst retaining, thankfully a more familiar user interface. Some commentators regard it was 'old fashioned' compared with MS Office. It's not as eye catching, but it's far easier to use, as it draws on one's existing experience by being familiar to use and giving fewer puzzles to solve as you get to grips with it. For old users, that' s a great plus. I don't care if it works on a tablet or a phone. It works and works best where it's most needed, on proper static office hardware.   

I got away from the office in time to return for a late lunch, and worked at home until it was time to go to the Millennium Centre for Bellin's opera 'I Puritani'. I felt sure we'd seen it before, and racked my brains to remember where and when. The music seemed remotely familiar, also the performance setting, but less so the plot. Eventually I recalled we'd seen it in Geneva's Grand Theatre about twenty years ago, and it was an occasion when I'd fallen asleep, probably exhausted after a day of skiing. I made an effort not to doze of this time. Slowly it dawned on me that my poor recollection may have something to do with my dislike of the story-line – Bellini or his librettist's antipathetic perception of English seventeenth century protestants. Great entertainment for a mainly catholic early nineteenth century audience, maybe, but hollow and inaccurate viewed down the wrong end of the telescope of time. 

As ever, the chorus was superb and the lead performers impressive. The first scene and last scenes were set in the Lodge of an Ulster Orange Loyalist order in modern times. Those in between were set in Puritan times. The production was making a point about the contemporary social and political legacy of puritanism, but it lacked consistency, especially given the flawed nature of Bellini's plot line. The idea was messy and confusing, even if neatly delivered by WNO. It's sheer coincidence that this should be on stage just as the Northern Ireland Assembly Government staggers into crisis with DUP withdrawals from office over the alleged secret survival of the presumed disbanded IRA. I just hope WNO have no plans to take this on tour to Belfast in the foreseeable future.

We got home to a message announcing the safe arrival in Cardiff from Spain of our American friends Saralee and Mark. Tomorrow we're off to explore the Llyn Peninsula together for the week.

Database migration

This last few days I have been working in quiet moments on mastering the intricacies of the Libre Office Base module, the open source equivalent of MS Access, by a process of trial and error. My aim is to migrate CBS company data from MS Works to a more modern program able to run on Windows and Linux, and maybe even Mac machines, with data files compatible with successive upgrades. 

I can't say MS Works has ever let us down. It has run successfully on every version of Windows for the past 20 years in which I have installed it on each new machine I've bought, though not when I've run Linux on them as well. I live in dread of the unlucky chance of losing the last MS Works installation disk I acquired in 2002, and no longer be able to use it on new machines.
 

The first task was to edit out material for archiving, and add new material on subscribers' web accounts, all of which has emerged over the five years since I first set up the company database. Then I had to figure out how to bind the data with the program in a core database table, then how to devise presentation forms using the data. The help files were barely adequate, but with trial and error I had something to show for a dozen hours of effort, when I went to the office this afternoon. 

Julie's feedback gave me a few more ideas of what I needed to do before making the switch to the new Libre Office Base program. My other task was to set up the desktop PC ordered to replace the troublesome Acer. After registration and set up, taking the best part of an hour, it too turned out to have a Windows 8.1 operating system, and needed up grading to Windows 10. By the time this was under way, it was time to leave for home, yet again.
 

This evening the BBC Four Proms broadcast recording from last Saturday featured 'cellist Yo Yo Ma in a continuous performance of Bach's six 'cello suites. I listened to the podcast of these last Sunday with great pleasure and recollection of student days when we first listened to these, and engraved them on our memories. Watching the live performance was an added bonus. The music will echo in my mind for many days to come.

Colloge changes

Finally yesterday, the car exhaust repair was completed, at great expense, but it's great to have it back again outside the house, to use on those occasions when public transport won't work. 

This morning I had an appointment with the Dental Hygienist and drove to the Llandaff North surgery, in order to be able to return in time to then walk back to Llandaff for for catch up chat with Fr Mark Clavier, Vice Principal of St Mike's. Sadly he's leaving in the New Year to become Vice Principal of St Stephen's House in Oxford. Proposed policy changes for the future role of the College in Church in Wales ministerial formation imply a different sort of future for residential training than the one envisaged when Mark was appointed, before Peter Sedgwick retired. In such circumstances, Oxford makes him an offer he can't refuse, one which will make full use of his gifts. 

It's sad that the Church in Wales loses a gifted scholar and pastor with enterprise and imagination to bring to ministerial formation. Stephen Adams, another long standing staff member is also moving to Cowbridge after ten years at St Mikes. I wait with interest to see who will be appointed in their places, to implement the required changes.

A feast of Bach

Without the car today, it was necessary to take a bus. I walked down to Cowbridge Road, and took a 13 as far as the old bus station. It couldn't go any further as there were road closures around the city centre, due to a 10k road run disrupting normal traffic. From there, it took me just twenty minutes to reach St Germans in good time. Bright sun shone into the church during the service. It's a great place to worship in good weather. Afterwards I had a lift home with a congregation member living nearby, so I got in for lunch at my usual Sunday time. Owain had just emerged from the shower after a long lie-in to recover from a late night, so we ate together before he left for Bristol.

Last night we missed Yo Yo Ma's performance of the six Bach 'Cello suites at the BBC Proms, but Clare found the repeat with her iPad, and we listened to it together. The sound levels weren't very satisfactory and I couldn't get the iPad to feed sound into our hi-fi system, much to my annoyance, so eventually I found the podcast on my phone, and played the second half of the recital at better volume over the hi-fi. Performing all six suites in one go is certainly a virtuoso tour de force for a sixty year old. His pace was quite brisk for many of the dances. I couldn't imagine moving at that pace, but it was impressive. I prefer Pablo Casals and Paul Tortelier versions, both more measured and lyrical, as befits Europeans for whom the nature of the folk melodies employed by Bach would be part of their deep cultural heritage.

Some of the pieces from the 'Cello suites have been transcribed for guitar and I few of them I have been trying to learn to play properly for the past fifty years, with scant success, though much love. In University days we got to know them well, as we bought the Casals Deutsche Grammophon records of Suites 1-4, and played them until we knew the off by heart. We either couldn't find or afford suites 5-6, so it's a delight to listen to them with fresh ears, barely acquainted with them. Our dear friend David Barker, a 'cellist, like my Dad and daughter Rachel, played to us selections from the suites as he was learning them. He died of cancer thirty years ago, and there are melodies here which I cannot hear without thinking of him. Often we sang folk music together in our youth, just for pleasure rather than performance. I still grieve his untimely death.

 

Bio-diverse Canton

This morning we visited The Apothecary shop at the bottom of Llandaff as Clare was in search of a particular herb tea. The owners have turned their , back room into a congenial little tea room, where you can try out many of the brews on sale in the shop and sample some fine looking vegetarian and vegan cakes made by small local providors. What an interesting idea. Clare picked up a leaflet about the open day being held at the nearby Chapter Arts Centre Community Garden, so we went over there to have a look around.

 

Chapter Arts centre, once a secondary school has a large open forecourt in front of the main building once a playground. Two thirds of it have been re-assigned from parking to an area with a series of raised flower beds with bushes, trees and an enormous variety of vegetable and flower plants. There are beehives out the back of the building and a greenhouse in one corner. It's worked by enthusiastic volunteers, and interestingly isn't managed in a regimented way. All kinds of plants grow together side by side, higgledy-piggledy rather than in neat rows. I guess the accent is on bio-diversity, and showing how what are thought of as weeds co-exist, as in the wild, with flowers and edible things. 

We paid to get it, as the Open Day is a charity fund raising event, and were treated to a free drink and a piece of home made cake. An accordeonist and a recorder player were duetting outside, playing folk dance tunes and promoting Pentreffest the annual folk music and dance festival to be held next month in the village of Rudry, the other side of Caerphilly Mountain from Cardiff. We brought home a pot of Chapter honey, utterly delicious. Urban honey benefits from an environment with cultivated gardens and parks presenting much greater floral diversity to bees than rural areas dominated by agrarian mono-culture. Nature's own subtle commentary on what we've done to the land.

Owain arrived in time for supper and a good chat before heading out for a late gig at Gwdihw in town. Before bed we watched the last episode of 'The Young Montalbano' for the second time around. Next Saturday I believe a new series of  Danish crimmie 'The Bridge' is set to begin, but we'll be up in the Llyn Peninsula with Mark and Saralee, over from Seattle from a European holiday, starting in Belguim, then going to Spain, and finally, with us to North Wales. If we have tell in the place we've hired, I doubt if it will get switched on, as there'll be so much to talk about. It's the best part of five years since we last saw Saralee.

A repair and replacement week

After celebrating the midweek Eucharist with ten people at St German's Wednesday morning, I took the car into Canton Quikfit depot to get something done about the exhaust, which sounds like a hole is developing. Later, I had a phone call to say it needed the catalyst replacing, and had to be ordered.  It was going to be expensive. Time to think. At 24 years old the car's scrap value is a hundred pounds, but it's mechanically in good nick and the bodywork surprisingly sound for a car of its age.

Clare's nephew and godson David had expressed an interest in the car's potential and having it when we've finished with it, during our East Anglian birthday party visit, as it would be a worthy candidate for restoration, or customizing for racing if one was so inclined, not that we'd want to take this course but we're minded to hand it on to him when we change cars. It has to be driveable when we do, as he lives in Scotland, so I decided there was no option but to go ahead, spend the money and keep the car for a while longer. 

Thursday afternoon there was another call to say that the catalyst's sensor was also irretrievable due to corrosion. More expense, and delay while the part is ordered. Today, a third call to say that a further pipe section has to be ordered. More cost, more delay until Monday, which means a car-less weekend. The only useable component of the exhaust remaining is the muffler section which Quikfit replaced several years ago. We don't use the car that much. It's only when it's not there at our beck and call that we notice.

Meanwhile, back at the office, the Acer desktop failed yet again to self-repair. It remains stuck in a loop after re-boot, with no error message to indicate the real problem. So, this afternoon I unplugged it, put it back in its packaging and returned to John Lewis'. Rather than a like for like replacement I've decided it's better to go for the HP equivalent, even if we have to wait a few days for one to arrive at the store. In the five weeks since it was purchased, I don't think we've had more than five days use out it. Most disappointing, and such a waste of time, all that machine minding while it pretended to repair itself.

A warning light that doesn't

I received disconcerting news from Ashley that his new Acer all in one desktop machine was yet again misbehaving and not starting up as intended. It's cycling in a re-boot - repair mode loop, it seems to be caused by unadjusted power settings putting the machine to sleep or switching off, depending on how long it's been left. Normally the machine is left on permanently, cond configured to stay on, with only the screen blanking on idle. I had to do this when it needed reverting to the OEM Windows 8.1 or else the 148 updates would never have been completed. As it was with those reboots that demand consent, it took several days to get the machine in to a state where the upgrade to Windows 10 could take place. This returned to power settings to default and neither of us noticed, so the same old story started again.

The machine's power tell tale light is so dim, it's impossible to tell if it's switched on. Neither does it  blink when in suspense, so one is fooled into thinking it's switched off. Pressing the power button is supposed to switch on or wake up the machine, not sure which. But prolonged pressing of the power button brings up the 'Advanced Startup' menu, which you may or may not need, depending on whether the machine thinks its been properly switched off or not. Without any useful tell-tales, this produces a vicious cycle, for no apparent reason. Only after reading up on 'Advanced Startup' on the Microsoft website was I able to find a way to understand the issue. But as today is bank holiday, I had better things to do than go into the office.

After a lazy morning, we went for a walk along the Taff Trail as far as Llandaff North and had a drink in the Railway Inn before walking back. I cooked a seafood paella for supper, and made an effort not to think about work and time consuming operating systems of any kind.

 

Recollection in Bristol

Another visit to St German's this morning to sing the Solemn Mass. Nice to have a late relaxed start to my Sunday. I was asked if I'd be willing to cover more regular duties during Fr Dean's absence, and said yes for three of the four Sundays of the coming month. October Sundays are already fully booked, though nothing beyond that so far.

We drove over to Bristol to see Amanda and James after lunch, and Owain came and joined us, which was delighful. He told us all about his visit to Bristolian artist Banksy's Dismaland Bemusement Park in Weston super Mare, and showed us photos he'd taken on his 'phone. He said how much he'd laughed, how much it made him think, with its hard-hitting satirical social critique of modern consumer society, ruthlessly mocking the fantasy escapist ethos of Disneyworld, and reminding the audience of the many horrors of injustice and violence which mar the contemporary world. 

We also reminisced about life in St Agnes Vicarage when Amanda came to live with us, Owain was a toddler, thirty five years ago and there were aspects of life in the St Paul's area that had some of the bemusing characteristics of Banksy's Dismaland. We drove him back to his place in Redfield on our way home, passing through the edge of St Paul's, down Ashley Hill. Superficially, it all looks less run down now than it did in those days, but looks can deceive, Owain suggested. 

It's thirty three years since we left the St Paul's area, for me to do the career break R.E. teacher training course, which made an adult educator of me, rather than a schoolmaster. Two years later, I bought my first home computer, and a decade before the internet became public property, slowly found my way into understanding the coming digital era and what it meant for society as well as science. 

Sixteen years earlier, as an undergraduate researching data to back my final year Chemistry project in Bristol University, I awakened to the important potential of the development of Information Science, then in its infancy, and the use of computers as its tools. The data processing mainframe computers of those days filled a large room, yet my Amstrad CPC 464 in 1984 was just as powerful, if not more so. How much further have computers and information technology come in the thirty years since then, and the world is such a different place due to what can now be achieved for better or worse through data processing of every kind.

Afternoon in the Beacons

The weather was just right for a country walk, so we packed a picnic lunch and headed up the A470 to the Brecon Beacons, turning off to take the country lane along Pontsticill reservoir, parallel with the track of the Brecon Mountain Railway, which I last visited with James about eight years ago, but first visited as a Boy Scout on a hiking expedition back in 1956-7, when a small group of us took the train from Maesycwmmer to Pontsticill, on a railway line which sadly closed not long after, only to have the reservoir stretch revived by train enthusiasts a decade later. We drove on, up over the pass that leads down to Talybont reservoir, to walk in a steep stretch of forest area that contains a series of fast running streams and waterfalls in a stretch of Forestry Commission terrain little exploited yet well frequented by walkers and picnickers. 

We sat by a fast flowing stream to eat our sandwiches, watching a couple of children exploring the water carefully, barefooted, and wondered how often urban kids got to do things like this with their parents nowadays. We passed an Asian extended family as we walked up, carrying food and equipment to a level clearing where they were going to prepare food for a feast, by the looks of it. Well worth the effort in such a beautiful setting. On our way back down, I noticed several men from the group we saw earlier, gathered at the top of a small waterfall performing their ritual ablutions before prayer. So refreshing to be able to pray together unhindered in the great outdoors, I thought to myself. 

After our walk, we called in for a drink and cake at the charming Old Barn tearoom, set in a lovely garden clearing in woodland, a few miles away from the waterfalls. The farmhouse is quite remote from others at the far end of the lake from Ponsticill village, but whenever we've called in there, it's been busy, as trail bikers and walkers as well as picnickers can easily find it, due to its discreet well placed home made signposts distributed around the area. We're very fortunate to have such lovely countryside to visit within easy reach of Cardiff. 

And to end the day, another episode of 'The Young Montalbano' to make us smile.

Upgrading - various

Wednesday afternoon, as I was going into the office, I bought a prime lens to go with my Sony Alpha 55. No telephoto capacity, just a set focal length F1.8, much like my old Praktica SLR film camera. In fact the 49mm UV lens filter from the Praktica fitted the new lens, although sadly it's acquired a scratch and will only be temporarily useful. This kind of lens works best for portraits and landscape. I shall enjoy exploring how to use it, having got used to variable focal length lenses on all the different digital cameras I've had over the past 15 years. I can't believe it's that long since I started to abandon 35mm film photography.

Thursday was broadband upgrade day - at some time unspecified, the line would drop, and then restart and it would all happen some time before midnight, as the TalkTalk upgrade letter said. It was a day when there were several work matters I needed to deal with and be on-line for, thankfully the old speed link was stable and uninterrupted until just after two. By then I'd done all I needed to do. It was much later in the day when I got around to unpacking the new router and installing it. 

Happily it started up quickly and was soon delivering a much smoother service in getting the household devices all on line without IP address clashes. I say smoother rather than faster, as I've formed the impression that Windows 10 computers still load programs with a degree of latency, more than one would expect for faster modern day computers. Once fully loaded the speed is obvious, but while they load an assortment of internet checks are being made. How I wonder are really necessary? I think it is presumed that people will leave computers permanently on with programs open, or else configured with a pre-load feature operating at boot time, to give you a quicker program start, but a longer wait from switch on to first use. 

It used to take four or five minutes to get a computer system up to speed. Windows 10 gets you to a login screen in under ten seconds, unless inconveniently updating at the time. This always seems to happen to me when I'm in a big hurry to get started. How impatient we've become! Loading programs and work files, brings the time from switch on to starting work down to a minute. In the early days of home computers, there were office suites of programs etched on ROM chips, were extensions of the ROM based operating system. You were ready to find the work file you wanted in seconds from switch on. The nearest matching device for speed today is a Chromebook with fast broadband, though less so when off-line. Such systems are limited in scope, but great if your needs are limited. A good smartphone or tablet always on even when charging, is also quick to get you working, though I'm not a virtual keyboard fan, and prefer a traditional computer to work on. Other devices get used mainly for media consumption.

Today is Kath's birthday. We exchanged messages and greetings in Spanish. They're staying in Toledo on their way home from Sta Pola. I've been enjoying the smooth and uninterrupted quality of broadband access. As at work, this takes a certain tension out of doing what you have to do, as well as reducing delays - except to the imagination, which works at a pace that's not time dependent. After lunch I went for a stroll to Llandaff Fields with prime lens equipped camera to see what I could see and record. I take pleasure in enjoying the bigger picture, landscapes and townscapes are what I look for. The prime lens challenges me to look at detail. Its range of focus gives you a sharp clear subject set in a de-focussed background, so you need to think carefully about what you're looking for in a picture as well as what you're looking at. 

I stopped and had a coffee in Cafe Castan. So glad it continues to flourish, ministering food and drink to park visitors. It's a real enhancement to the locality, and the staff are friendly. Then, late afternoon I went into the office for a couple of hours, and found myself with the task of completing the re-install of Windows 10 on the new Acer desktop PC. It crashed badly and had to be reverted to factory settings, Windows 8.1, then 148 updates had to be made before it could be accepted in the queue for upgrading to Windows 10. 

This dragged on for days, leaving Ashley un-confident about whether or when he could use it, so I finished the job and re-configured it, turning a short visit to talk business into a long one machine minding, so I got home late for supper, resentful that these processes don't always function as smoothly as intended. I never found out why this PC's crashed in the first place. It might have been something simple, sync or an email attachment failing to find an app to open it, locking up the system and leaving the machine useless until it drops into sleep mode. The on/off switch tell tale is so dim, you cannot tell whether it's off or in sleep. At that stage, a wrong move may have caused damage that confounded the various system repair and recovery options. There was no success in recovering settings data stored in OneDrive either, hence the need for a hugely time wasting factory reset.

After supper, we settled down together in front of the TV and watched 'The Last Quartet' a fine film about the middle aged members of a string quartet, thrown into crisis by the impending retirement of one of its members, based around the sublime music of Beethoven's last quartet. Wonderful.

Night out

For our Monday morning drive back to Cardiff, we chose a longer, potentially less congested route, following the A14 north to the M6, turning west on the A45 towards Warwick, for just about half distance, and from there a familiar route across country to the M5 and M50 back into Wales, along the route we use to get to Kath and Anto's. There were certainly fewer traffic queues, but it still took us six hours, as it rained for the first two third of the journey, and we needed several stops. Clare drove the middle section of the journey, the first time she's done a long stretch since her shoulder operation, with no ill effect, which was pleasing.

We returned to find a note from the postman that his attempt to deliver our new high speed TalkTalk broadband router had failed, as we were away, so I'll have to collect it tomorrow. The new service is due to begin on Thursday of this week. Hopefully it will resolve the problems we've been having due to an overloaded slower connection, and justify the extra expense.

This morning, on my way to celebrate the midweek Eucharist at St Saviour's Splott again, I called at the Post Office main sorting office to pick up the router parcel, not to be opened until the new service goes live, apparently. I had intended to go into the office late afternoon, after taking Clare to the Heath hospital for an eye check-up, but I dozed off in the chair, still recovering from yesterday's long drive unfortunately - old age taking its toll. Then Ashley and I conversed at length over the phone and I completed some work tasks on-line. Another good reason for having better connectivity.

Instead of cooking, we went out to Stefano's Restaurant for supper, as they were having one of their live music evenings, with a variety of singers performing operatic and music theatre songs for an enthusiastic audience of diners. Well, why not it's still holiday season, isn't it? said Clare.
 

Felixstowe Sunday

An internet search last night enabled me to download a useful pdf list of churches in Felixstowe with their Sunday service times. I needed this to find somewhere I could attend an eight o'clock Eucharist, to free me later in the morning to drive Owain back to Ipswich train station for his journey back to Bristol. In these days of clergy shortages an early service can be hard to find, Fortunately, there was one advertised nearest to our B&B at the Parish Church of St John the Baptist, just five minutes walk up the hill. It's a well appointed Victorian High Church gothic building, by Sir Arthur Bloomfield, containing a superb collection of stained glass and a mosaic high altar reredos of the Lord's Supper. 

I was warmly welcomed by several people on arrival. The liturgy was 1662 Book of Common Prayer with KJV readings and a decent address on the Gospel of the day. There were 18 worshippers. I came away refreshed and happy to know that a normal and traditional early service was still available, even though the Parish is currently in an interregnum. 

I got back to Dorincourt Guesthouse in good time to enjoy a cooked Sunday breakfast. Then, Owain, Clare and I drove out to the Landguard nature reserve car park to save time, and walked from there around the peninsula, dominated by its fort, guarding the estuary since the seventeenth century and in continuous use from 1667 until 1956. As well as being an English Heritage site of military interest, the fort is now home to Felixstowe Museum. On this morning it was also host to a classic car rally.

As we were about to turn around and head back to the car, another large container ship rounded the headland, though not one of the giants. It was close enough to shore to identify as the 'MSC Valencia', registered in Madeira. I wondered if she plied her trade from the Puerto de Valencia, as it is also a big constainer shipping port, sister June and I discovered during our visit there six years ago.

After we'd taken Owain the station, Clare and I took a picnic lunch out, and sat on the edge of the promenade with our feet on the shingle, watching two young children running about tirelessly on the shore, braving the waves and getting wet with glee. The rain held off just long enough, then we returned to our room, and enjoyed a couple of hours siesta before joining Eddy and Ann, David and Liz for an Indian takeaway supper and an evening of family conversations. So much more congenial than a six hour return drive back home.

 
Here's a link to all the photos taken during our stay

Giants at Felixstowe

We were blessed with a fine day for Eddy and Ann's joint birthday celebration, in the form of a grand buffet lunch for twenty in their lovely back garden at Kirton. Before we drove to Ipswich to collect Owain from the train before joining them, I walked west along Felixstowe's promenade in the direction of the container port for half an hour, as far as the nature reserve on the Landguard Peninsula at the mouth of the Orwell estuary. 

A pleasing feature of modern environmental conservation activity is how information about flora and fauna in the local ecosystem are described in wayside interpretation panels. It enables one to see the environment with fresh eyes. I learned that Landguard peninsula is one of the driest areas of Britain, and that Britain has no less than one third of Europe's shingle beaches. Both factors determine the kind of vegetation that thrives best here.

The east bank of the Orwell beyond the peninsula is occupied by the port. When I first photographed Felixstowe's shore, five years ago, there were five giant cranes on the horizon, loading containers on to ships. Now seven are visible, evidence of development taking place, even during a time of deep economic recession. 

The port now hosts some of the world's largest ships on routine visits to Britain and ports in Germany. Holland and Belgium. Yesterday, we caught sight of one of the giants of the United Arab Shipping Company leaving for Hamburg where it starts its return journey to Quingdao in China.

A quarter of a mile long, holds full to capacity and decks piled high, it carries nearly nineteen thousand shipping containers. Seeing this was an unexpected bonus of our seaside sojourn.
 

St Edmundsbury Cathedral discovered

After checking out of our hotel mid morning, we drove down the A14 towards Felixstowe, where we are booked for the weekend. On our way we made our first ever visit to Bury St Edmunds, and found, at the end of an approach to the city, marked by traffic congestion, a prosperous old town centre with easy parking, all the modern retail facilities, and a great variety of charming historic buildings to see, on our way to the Cathedral of St Edmund, King and Martyr.

The  building is in origin a fine East Anglian mediaeval abbey, and an equally fine mediaeval Parish church in the grounds next to it. The abbey precinct is large, and scattered with remnants of former buildings. Including its magnificent Norman gatehouse on to the street, adjacent to the Cathedral.

Buildings nearest to the abbey have at some time in subsequent history since the dissolution og the monasteries, been turned into residences or serving the Cathedral. The churchyard and gardens on the site of former abbey buildings are beautifully maintained and attractive. Before the reformation this place would have been a key place of pilgrimage for the region, and had extensive property and land. Whatever the town acquired in this process has been well looked after, to everyone's benefit.

What surprised us about the Cathedral building was learning that the lantern tower above the central crossing, similar to that at Ely Cathedral, was only completed a few years ago, according to a design envisaged by the architect who re-built the nave almost a century ago, and left substantial funds to support its completion.

It's a great accomplishment, perfectly in harmony, like the modern cloister, with the mediaeval character of the building, and a marvellous showcase of traditional craftsmanship which still flourishes in this region, with church support. Here's a link to the photos of our visit.

We had lunch outdoors at the Cathedral's visitor centre restaurant before resuming our journey, and arrived at our seafront B&B in Felixstowe, the Dornicourt Guest House, at tea-time. After settling in, we walked the length of the promenade as far as the Fludyer's Arms where we stayed on two previous visits. Since then, it's been modernised and gone up-market as a stylish Real Ale pub and music venue the key feature of its accommodation offer. We enjoyed supper at the versatile Fish Dish restaurant on the sea front near the pier, offering quiet a varied menu in addition to serving traditional English fish and chips. Another eating house on our visit with Turkish management, offering good service and an interestingly diverse menu.

  

Re-unions

After an ample hotel breakfast, we spent the morning seeing Cambridge on foot, visiting colleges, as tourists do, and then took an hour's guided tour of riverside colleges in a punt piloted by an eloquent young man, who happened to be a home grown local lad, recently graduated from Aston University, whose summer job this was. An entertaining experience, and for him, his last day of work before setting out for a year's EFL teaching in China.

After lunch in a cafe restaurant opposite King's College under Turkish management, I headed out of  the town centre to visit my architect cousin Ivor, now living in sheltered accomodation in an inner suburb. It's several years since we last met up. Since then he's been plagued with illness. Now he's getting used to a new way of life, and after a hands-on career as an architect and teaching architecture, he's becoming an historian of modern architecture, drawing on his unique perspective of a lifetime of working experience, some of it spent with his mentor, the renowned Leslie Martin.

He has scholarship funding, and tells me that one of its benefits is the right to have his remains interred in a Cambridge college with which he's associated. I imagine having his work published and available on University library shelves is much more important to him, with such a story to tell. Like art and literature, the buildings of our era are an essay describing in their different ways the values and attitudes to life that matter most. Buildings that much easier to understand when accounted for by those who belong to their circle of authorship.

In the evening Clare and I met with Craig and Mel McKay, whom we haven't seen for over thirty years. Mel was Clare's bridesmaid at our wedding, and married Craig, a Cambridge astronomer five years later. They've lived in the city ever since, she working as a counsellor for thirty years and then in retirement as an historic garden guide, and he at the cutting edge of technological development for space probe instrumentation, still full of the excitement and enthusiasm for the developments of the age we live in. He got to work on building legendary Hubble space telescope quite early in his career, and is working on the Roque de los Muchachos telescope array in the Canary islands. Retirement, what is it? Working on the things you love, but on on a pension.

Here's a link to the photos taken during our stay

East Anglia journey

This morning we drove to Cambridge to stop a couple of nights on our way for a weekend with Eddy and Ann, celebrating their joint 145th birthday. We took the most direct route via Oxford, four hours on a good day, five hours for us, due to long traffic queues approaching north south junctions with west-east routes.

We checked into the Arundel House Hotel on Chesterton Road and were given a first floor bay window room overlooking the river Cam across the road and Jesus Green beyond. A little noisy, but a great view. After unpacking, we walked the streets for an hour, then returned for an evening meal in the restaurant downstairs, before turning in for a good night's sleep.

   
 

Faithfulness celebrated

I drove to St Saviour's in Splott this morning to celebrate the Eucharist, and on this occasion it was a Requiem Mass for Margaret, a member of the regular worshipping congregation for many years who had died. St Saviour's on Tuesdays is always a-buzz with activity, as it's the morning for food bank distributions, combined with a social time, as well as the weekday Mass. A heart warming experience at the best of times. but even more so on this inevitably sad occasion, when over thirty people came to commend Margaret to God and give thanks for her life with the local community. 

Former Vicar, retired like me, Fr Alan Rabjohns, drove up from Swansea with his wife to take part and he administered the chalice at Communion. Although only an occasional visitor, I could picture Margaret, the way I remembered her, as a cheery faithful member of the church choir. I recall hearing she'd taken a decision not to fight back with chemotherapy, once the seriousness of her diagnosis was revealed, content to have lived her span, ready to return to her Maker. It's good to celebrate that kind of trusting faith, and not to let it be undervalued in this scientific miracle hungry modern world.
 

Web housekeeping

Sunday morning was taken up with a celebration of the Eucharist at St John's Canton followed by another at St Luke's. The rest of the day was spent doing nothing much ... well, resting I suppose you'd call it. We discussed going out to join the Ecumenical street Procession of Our Lady of Walsingham at St Mary's Bute Street, but not long before it was time to leave, I nodded off and woke up too late to be punctual.

I did however finally get around to ordering an upgrade of Talktalk's Broadband on-line, after the Talktalk Care twitter helpline account manager sent me the appropriate web-link. It was altogether a lot simpler than I'd envisaged. With so many on-line devices in the house, on and off at different times, the basic service is barely adequate, so it's worth the extra to avoid impatience. Service always seems to go flaky when you most need it. I was impressed to get a text message confirming the order and giving a service start date this morning.

Much of today was spent working with my collection of photographs from my last sojourn in Spain. Some albums hadn't made it from laptop to backup drive, and now I have lots of OneDrive webspace, I uploaded over a thousand pictures, first re-sizing them in a Linux batch processing app called Phatch, which does a great quick job with no fuss. As all my photos are now taken full size, to be used sometimes for cropping out wasted space or magnifying one section, I decided to upload only half sized versions. 

OneDrive doesn't seem to offer an automatic 'best for web sharing' upload option like Google's Picasa, so the job has to be done beforehand. 'Best for web sharing' is sensible, not just from a space saving point of view, but if you're viewing them, a larger picture takes longer to display and resolve properly on screen, particularly with slower connections. It's a labour of love, and it is quite possible to do other things while uploading happens in the background. Today there was a job application pack and advertisement to prepare for recruiting a new BCRP Business Crime Reduction Manager. I'd meant to go into the office but ended up staying home all day, even though it was bright and sunny. Must get out more.

 

Home to a music feast

Up before six, driving for half an hour to Birmingham airport in the rain to take Rachel to her six forty five check-in. So sad to say goodbye to her, even though she's only ever a Skype or Viber call away. She loves rain, and is returning to 40C+ in Phoenix, with infrequent downpours even in the 'monsoon' season, as she calls it. After breakfast, we went to bed again for an hour, before tidying up and leaving for home. It only rained for the first hour. By the time we stopped for a coffee at Strensham services, driving conditions were much improved.

After lunch I went into the office for an hour, which ended up being two hours as Ashley's new Acer all in one desktop stuck and then crashed in the middle of some indefinable process and then hung with a black screen after reboot. I tried all the various repair options in turn without success, and finally resorted to a factory re-set, still running when I set out for home much later than I wanted to. I listened to the Archers on my Blackberry as I was walking to the bus stop, and was late for supper. Cursed machines!

We watched the evening's BBC Promenade Concert from the Albert Hall, modern American orchestral music with choir singing as an instrument, the way the composer and conductor Eric Whitacre put it. One piece paid homage to the revelatory stellar discoveries of the Hubble telescope. In its final movement Whitacre invited promenaders to access a smartphone app (with call handling switched off) to look at pictures taken by Hubble of an area of sky dark to us but emanating light from myriads of galaxies 13 billion light years away, almost as old as the universe itself. If I understood aright, the sound  of Hubble's signal was broadcast from the phone app, and its low level background noise from hundreds of devices written into the musical score. Ingenious, with a genuine touch of awesomeness in its beauty.

Then, BBC Four offered the 1955 movie of Guys and Dolls, digitally re-mastered in brightest technicolour Cinemascope, chock full of memorable songs and witty wisecracking dialogue, fabulous stageing and dance routines. It was late, but irresistible to watch. Though tired, I didn't fall asleep, and staggered to bed very very late, happy to have re-visited my distant youth, with Miles Davis' from the album 'Birth of the Cool' version of 'If I was a bell' ringing in my head, rather than that of inebriated Jean Simmons in the movie. Lovely times.

Kenilworth and faster broadband

We left Plas Baladeulyn mid morning and drove along the A5 to Llangollen to stop for lunch. Parking a difficult, but serendipdy prevail. We found a space just across the street from two tea rooms, side by side. We settled for the Vintage Road Tea Room, where we enjoyed, not only a good meal but also the charming experience of sitting out in their small back yard to eat. All the crockery used is china in traditional patterns, and there's lots on display as well, indoors.

Inevitably the M6 was congested with traffic and slow moving, but apart from that the journey, in good weather, was uneventful, and we arrived in Kenilworth by five. Kath, Anto and Rhiannon weren't there. They'd sent us messages and a few photos from their ferry crossing from Portsmouth to Bilbao on Tuesday, plus a picture of their hotel in Olite, the wine capital of Navarra province in Spain. We made supper, and got ourselves an early night, conscious of the need to get Rachel to Birmingham airport by six forty-five for her return flight to Arizona.

How nice to be able to take advantage of Anto's fast BT business broadband! Instead of two hours at home to download the office file system to this machine, it took twenty minutes. It certainly won't be long now until I put my order in to get faster broadband. All the users on this machine are now completely updated. Hopefully there'll be fewer virtual lockouts due to file system updating issues in future. What's bad is how little control you have over the process.

You can, however, create a user area to work in that doesn't have a OneDrive address to sync to. The system takes slightly longer to boot up, as if it can't believe that syncing isn't required. But then you can access internet without hindrance, and if needs be get files from any OneDrive account by means of a browser, just the way it always was. 

As time goes on, it'll be interesting to see if the amount of comment on tech forums about the Microsoft's use of syncing to 'data-slurp your machine and potentially compromise data privacy increases because users don't have control over what's being sent. Let's hope that complaints will rise into a roar of discontent, and more people switch to run versions of Linux on terms of their own choice instead.

 

Ascending Yr Wyddfa

Finally we had a good view of Snowdon over breakfast this morning, then we took another drive to Beddgelert, this time to go over the Aberglasyln Pass down to Llanberis, thronged with visitors as ever. It's my father's birthday today, and I though how much he would have loved this adventure. We met other Trigonos guests going up by train, as we set out for the climb wondering how far we'd get this time. It's two years since rain and cloud called off our last attempt at the half way mark. Today's weather was just perfect. 

We made it to the half-way cafe and had our picnic lunch. Clare wanted to quit while she was ahead. I had enough left to accompany Rachel another kilometre up to the steepest section, before returning to join Clare on the descent. Rachel went on to the summit with enthusiasm, and amazed us by jogging back down in an hour and ten minutes to rendezvous with us at half past four.

We waited for her at Pen y Ceunant Isaf Tea Rooms, just at the end of the very steep first section of tarmac road out of the village of Llandberis - you're advised to allow three hours! The tea room is one of the most friendly places I know in Wales. Stefan, who owns and runs it, loves the mountain and its hosts of visitors, and knows how to make every one feel really welcome. Rachel met another couple of Trigonos guests walking, as she descended. There was plenty to talk about over supper.

It was an enjoyable outing, and I'm glad I quit while I was ahead, before ankle joint pains became intolerable. By bed time, my legs felt decidedly wobbly, and I thought I was walking like a really old man. Must get out and exercise more while I still can, even if it does take longer to recover these days! 

I was definitely too tired to stay up and watch for meteorites on the second night of the Persied passage. In any case, the valley sides obscured the south western sky, high up sightings would be that much rarer. One group of half a dozen went on a night hike to a high place. I hope they were suitably rewarded for their effort.

Clare's name day in Beddgelert

After breakfast, we drove up the valley to Rhydd Du, overtaking the train we got down to Beddgelert Railway station for a photo opportunity before going into the town, then out to see Gelert's Grave and walk down the river trail to eat our picnic lunch on the bank above the waters. The weather was cloudy but we were spared rain, so it was quite pleasant and relaxing to sit and listen to the river.

The Parish Church of St Mary was open, welcoming visitors to a flower festival with a curiously interesting mix of traditional and contemporary subject themes. It's impressive that the congregation can achieve this in the busiest visitor month of the year, to this ever popular tourist venue.

We drove on up the Aberglasyn Pass road, as far as the junction for Llanberis and Capel Curig, stopping half way to savour the view and take photos. This is one of my favourite Snowdonia views. On the way back down we stopped at the visitor centre of  Beddgelert's Sygun copper mine, which has a cafe and a small museum.

We weren't interested in going under ground for a tour of old workings, but the small eclectic collection of artifacts, geological and historical, all relating to the diversity and value of minerals found in this region was well worth spending time on. Man made objects on display spanned more than two millennia. All was well labelled and described but presentation and sequencing of exhibits was somewhat quirky. Possibly it's the work of a keen amateur collector. Certainly all the more interesting for not being displayed in any conscious didactic order. Every exhibit could just be enjoyed for what it is.

Another quiet evening of table talk with fellow guests at supper, and an hour of pleasure watching clouds move and change colour, slowly revealing Snowdon's summit, as the light faded and the sky cleared marvellously to make possible a viewing of the early stages of Perseid meteor shower passing by earth, for those with the energy to pass the night in the garden with bats and midges.

   

Ascent to Y Fron Eryri

The early morning rain cleared up and a breeze blew away low cloud locally, and this encouraged us to set out on the hill walk that starts on a footpath just opposite Trigonos main entrance. We climbed through sheep pastureland for three quarters of an hour, around the edge of the easternmost slate spoil tip, and then above on to moorland as far as the quiet little hamlet of Y Fron Eryri. We met the local postman on his rounds and he offered to take a group photo of us at one of the many stiles typical of the region, made of slate, with iron gates. 

From up there at 250m the views of this industrial legacy, with Nantlle Lake beyond in the valley floor, and the crests on the other side, rising to more than 300m, are simply amazing for their stark and colourful contrasts. I couldn't help imagining the quarrymen from Y Fron and other neighbouring hamlets walking up and down these tracks to their workplace - walking to such drugery and dange - sustained by the beauty of the landscape rising above its own ravaging, and the faith that kept praise and dignity alive in their hearts.

We started our descent on tracks leading us past the only working slate quarry left and through abandoned quarry sites that closed fifty years ago, now slowly, patiently, being reclaimed by wild nature. While we were eating our picnic lunch on the mountainside, two buzzards circled over us on the breeze, calling to each other with a cry reminiscent of a cat. The sun shone, but Snowdon in the distance was still wreathed in cloud.

A memorable walk, but one that called for a siesta and a quiet evening to follow, savouring the marvellous vegetarian cuisine for which Trigonos is famous, with most of the food being grown on the estate, or locally. Visitors come from far and wide, travelling many miles, to enjoy eating meals with very low food miles in comparison to an average restaurant.

Since we last came here, wi-fi internet access has been extended to the main house from the conference centre. It was, with patience, possible to log on, but there was no internet last night, and today laptop network access was virtually impossible, whereas phones and tablets, albeit slowly, could get on line and stay on line. With a couple of dozen devices seeking an IP address at any time, it's not surprising, a bit like an airport lounge. The phone signal also dipped in an out, so it was impossible to do much more than send texts. To sustain a conversation meant going outdoors and standing in a particular the car park - or else walk thirty yards up the track towards Y Fron Eryri, where it's more consistent. 

I didn't have much need to get on line with a laptop, except to retrieve a file to edit offline. The CBS business user account on the newly upgraded Windows 10 laptop was not fully synced. Since Microsoft operations seem to hate being interrupted they hog internet access until they have done what they want to do, and the house connection was too congested to allow access, it just refused to connect - make any different use impossible - that's what I discovered.

I did however succeed in using the BlackBerry as a wi-fi hotspot for just long enough to grab the file from OneDrive accessed through Firefox, but the signal soon dropped. A bit like using an old fashioned modem, but at least I could finish a final revision done on the job description we've been discussing all week.

 

Snowdonia with Rachel

Owain came over yesterday to spend a 'brother and sister' day together with Rachel, the first opportunity they've had this time around, so Rachel drove them to Ogmore for a walk along the shore, a favourite pastime from years back, and then they went out for supper. This left us with a quiet day to prepare our trip with Rachel to Snowdonia.

My first duty this morning was at eight o'clock at St Catherine's. Clare came too, so that she could be free to have breakfast with Owain and Rachel, when they arose from their night on the town. As I was about to begin I was asked if I could fit in an extra service at St John's before returning to St Catherines for the ten thirty, as the other locum priest was unwell. It's the first time for a long while that I've taken three services in a morning. I wondered how I'd stand up to it, as I do seem more prone to the after effects of cumulative stress these days, but it was fine, nothing to worry about, and by half past twelve, we were heading out of Cardiff up the A470 to Snowdonia for four days at Trigonos, our favourite place to stay in Dyffryn Nantlle.

We started out in rain, and our first task was to get a windscreen wiper blade replaced. The roads were surprisingly quiet, and it didn't rain all the way. We enjoyed a picnic lunch beside a reservoir in the Brecon Beacons, with a flock of pied wagtails busy around the bushes nearby. We arrived at tea time to a warm welcome and some good company and conversation over meals, as is usually the case in Plas Baladeulyn. 

Once again our room looks out over the lake. The last of the hay bundles was being removed from the lakeside meadow, so we missed its exquisite carpet of wildflowers by a few days. But the little blue dragonflies were still around in the garden, and a buzzard family in lakeside trees. Lots of low cloud obscured the peaks and crests above the valley, and Snowdon, making for an ever changing atmosphere of mystery and colour as the sun set. There is clear weather to come while we're here, nevertheless. Rachel is delighted to be here. It's her first visit.

 

 

Windows 10 comes home

A sunny Friday morning started with a computer notification that the Windows 10 upgrade was ready for installation – eight days after the new operating system was launched. So, around eleven, I clicked go, then went off to my GP appointment. Thankfully the blood pressure was what it should be again. What it was like at the end of this day, I didn't bother to check, but I imagine it'd be high in the light of what I now report.

The upgrade took about an hour on a machine only a little slower than my office PC, but took another quarter of an hour to configure to my requirements. Again, all installed programs run nicely, the Edge browser is still a fiddle to set up for my default choices, but this time expected.
 

I started writing my Sunday sermon on another Windows 8.1 machine, my little underpowered travel portable, and it soon gave me an installation notification, but when I clicked on it, downloading the upgrade hadn't finished. An hour later, it changed its mind and let me start. Again this took about an hour and a quarter to get to a state usability, except for one thing.

Internet access speeds on standard consumer 2mb/sec broadband connection plummeted to the point where it took a minute or two to access any new page. Other wi-fi devices in the house were also crippled, and even the phone signal booster struggled to deliver the consistent in-house signal we've got used to relying on. The reason? One Drive was busy syncing 8GB worth of files with both Windows 10 computers entirely from scratch. In fact, when the second sync started, the first stopped in its tracks, and could only be re-started once the other finished. 

The sync process notification said that files were downloading from OneDrive. I was mystified by this, as previously in Windows 8.1, a personal filesystem was uploaded to the internet and disappeared the machine. If you wanted to save work in progress to tackle when off-line, you had to hide it where OneDrive wouldn't whisk it away. This time, when the syncing stopped, after four or five hours, I discovered that all my files had been returned to the hard drive and now could be accessed off-line. Or so it says!

While this initial syncing process was going on, it seemed to consume most of the available bandwidth, to the point that other network attached devices were, for most purposes, apart from receiving notifications, un-useable. Like a denial of service attack, but in effect a provision of service sucking up all the capacity of the system.

It was so bad that when, later in the afternoon, during the sync-fest, I sought to retrieve my half prepared sermon from OneDrive, it wouldn't deliver, as pages were loading so slow they timed out. Finally, after more long waits, my trusty Linux Mint six year old Dell machine managed to slip through the traffic stream and deliver me vital file. Then I was able to complete the sermon off-line and print. It then took several attempts to upload the edited file to OneDrive. 

This may be a one off experience to do with upgrading. It won't much affect people with fast broadband, but anyone with ordinary broadband speed is going to be confounded by the experience, wishing they'd never bothered to upgrade.  In essence the upgrade is a seamless experience, apart from this issue, which is a stumbling block for those unwarned.

What I have been reminded of by this waste of a day is not to rely totally on any Cloud based service or application. Great for back-up, or file sharing, sure, but today's experience reduced fancy new Windows 10 to an offering no better or worse than a Chromebook, and brought the household to a halt.

Admittedly we're running a lot of connected devices on our domestic broadband service. Four wired devices and six to eight wi-fi devices are attached at any time, but most are just idling. Any massive file download is going to disrupt. So, it's time to pay extra for more capacity, and switch to a fibre optic system. Cable has been in the street for over a decade, and the BT cabinet around the corner has boasted of being upgraded for the past two years. 

It may be a long time before we have such a diminished service again, but truth to tell, we're now so dependent on seamless delivery, it's hard to cope with such disruption. Are we right to be so heavily reliant on internet connectedness? Days like this seem to suggest untold disasters if things ever go wrong on the macro scale.
 

Wedding anniversary remembrance

I had two Eucharists to cover for holidaying parish clergy yesterday morning. I celebrated the Transfiguration a day early, for small congregations at St Luke's and Catherines. It's a feast that has meant so much to me for several different reasons, the most important being that Clare and I married on the 6th August. This morning we went together to St John's for the Eucharist, and sat together in the congregation as Fr Jesse Smith was scheduled to celebrate. A rare treat.

Then Clare and Rachel went off for a swim. I pottered around, then went into the office for a while. We didn't do anything else to mark the day, except savour the delight of last Saturday's family celebration, to add to the multitude of memories of forty-nine years together. It's time to start planning a Golden Wedding fiesta for this time next year. I've decided I'm going to make a photo sequence of all the years to display on the day. Thankfully, I made a start on digitising old family albums a decade ago. There's still more to do, to obtain a fuller picture. Many of the best moments, of course, could never be captured, no matter how vivid they remain in memory. 

Today is the 70th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, suitably recalled in the news and at ground zero. With Cold War confrontation hanging over our youthful years, and blighting them with subliminal anxiety, it seemed right that we should marry on this day, because it is also one the feast days of Christ, and the transforming power of his grace. A small gesture, stating that we we were chosing life in the shadow of extermination. 

The numbers of nuclear warheads is now a tenth of what it once was, but more nations possess nuclear armaments, so the risk of catastrophe is as high as ever, compounded by possible use of fissile material for a 'dirty bomb' by terrorists. So many people are still choosing ways that lead to death rather than life. Have we got any further than living with the Bomb, rather than creating conditions in which it serves no further purpose and can be disposed of, as we now frequently do with outdated technologies.

  

Keep on taking the pills

I went to our GP surgery this morning for my six monthly hypertension review test - one of the hazards of old age. My blood pressure was worryingly high, but the cause of this was clear to me at least. I stopped taking the diuretic pill while I was in Spain as I was sweating so much, and waking up dry mouthed at night. It took me a good while to get hydration balance correct. Another trial of old age. When I returned from hotter climes, I didn't restart the diuretic although the adjustment to cooler temperatures means I don't need to drink as much to much to compensate.

I thought I'd wait until this morning's test. I wasn't really surprised, as I noticed I muzzy head in the morning, which cleared but slowly as the day went on, and only if I was physically active. Whatever else the little white pills do, they help prevent the body storing toxins. So, as soon as I got home, I took a pill, and within hours my head cleared. By evening my blood pressure measured almost normal again. However, I have been given an urgent appointment with the GP on Friday - just in case it's something else - fair enough.

After lunch Rachel and I drove up Thatcham in Berkshire to deliver Jasmine to her dad for their flight back to America. Happily, we have Rachel for another ten days. On the return journey we called on Amanda and James in Southmead. It was the first time Rachel and Amanda have been together for three years. Time flies. Thank heavens for Skype and Gmail.

Movie outing

It's lovely to have Rachel and Jasmine here. The aroma of pancakes cooking for a late breakfast treat fills the house in the morning. Then the girls went to the swimming pool, and after an early lunch, I went into town and booked tickets for an early evening showing of the 'Minions' film, at Cineworld.

Today is when the bus station closures hit the working week. I wondered how the traffic was going to be managed, and chatted with the driver on my way into town. There are new drop off bus stops and bus lanes in Westgate Street, and now certain buses destined to return from the opposite side of Westgate Street must go left into Lower St Mary Street, and do their turn around in Callaghan Square and then make their way back, as there's no longer entry into the bus station. It seems to be working well. It needs to, as it'll be a couple of years before the new bus station is ready for use.

 

Then, I went to the office to complete the task of making Ashley's new PC fit for work. It wasn't as easy as I'd hoped to set up the email client to access a BT account, so it's a matter of continuing to use webmail for the time being. Gmail set up with Windows 10 Mail was easy, but I was was amused to receive a security notification from Google, declaring the account had been accessed from Internet Explorer, not from Windows 10 Mail So much for the all-new operating system that does away with I.E.!

At six, the four of us met outside the cinema and ascended to the dizzy heights of the top storey, with its fabulous townscape views, to plunge ourselves into the deafening darkness of the movie studio for 'Minions'. The hi-fi surround sound was too loud for comfort throughout and detracted from the enjoyment. I like to listen and not be bombarded acoustically. I lost count of the movie trailers we saw first, five or six I think. All the advertisements were the same as those we get  pestered with a dozen times a night on TV, in huge HD versions. Boring. They soon cease to be entertaining or informing.

The film's certification said it was fit for children (true) but contained mild comedic (?) violence. Well, like all cartoon movies since the genre was invented I guess, but so much gets tiresome. The film was hilariously funny, a 'prequel' the cartoon movie 'Despicable Me', whose sequel we watched last night. To my mind was better at satirizing American culture than its was at satirizing Britain, the monarchy and the church. It's not something I would have gone out of my way to watch, if it hadn't been an occasion for a family outing. But then the same is true of most things that pass for 'entertainment' today.

A special family celebration

Yesterday afternoon, Owain arrived from Bristol, and came with us to check in at Llantrisant's Premier Inn for an overnight. Kath, Anto, Rhiannon, Rachel and Jasmine all arrived from Kenilworth shortly after us. Eddy and Ann were already installed, having arrived last night from Greece to Gatwick Airport, and driving across counry to avoid motorway congestion, to stay the night and recover from travel, in order to join us.

Clare and I both turn seventy this year, so we chose a date half way between our birthdays, close to our 49th wedding anniversary, for this family gathering. Sadly neither of my two sisters could travel to join us. Age takes its toll. We booked an evening meal at the Llanerch Vineyard restaurant ages ago, keen to go somewhere special and invite everyone to join us. At last it was happening.

The meal was superb, and everyone was pleased with what they chose to eat, even the children. When we arrived there was a large decorated plastic box with a ballon tied to it on the dining table. This had been brought in earlier in the day by the Kenilworth crowd, a hamper of lovely goodies, to which all the children and grandchildren contributed - favourite things - olives, chorizo, chocolate, wine, hand made soap, handmade marzipan sweets, a framed photo of Rhiannon and Jasmine, poems and cards created by the two of them. Such a lovely surprise. After the main course, an excellent chocolate birthday cake, baked by the grand-daughters. Such joy!

After the supper, the general manager of the hotel and restaurant drove us back to the hotel on his way home. He said he was most annoyed that guests staying just three miles away should have to pay £25 for a taxi to return at 10.00pm, having paid only £15 for the outward journey. This he attributed to the fact that even a local taxi would have to come out to the Vineyard to pick us up, because every taxi in a wide area around Cardiff would be queuing in search of lucrative fares the city centre, not stationed locally as at other times. Cardiff's celebrated night time economy may do the city some good, but isn't it also draining economic life and activity from the surrounding regions?

Still, we finished the evening with a bottle of Prosecco, drunk from toothbrush glasses in our room, before turning in, so happy to be re-united again. The best birthday present of all.

This morning, I was up and breakfasting ahead of everyone else, as I had an assignment to celebrate Mass at St German's at eleven, and needed to leave by, to go home and change. Everyone was home, enjoying the sunshine and drinking a late coffee in Clare's lovely garden when I got back. Lunch was spread out over much of the afternoon, as everyone had eaten a hearty breakfast before checking out of the hotel. Eddy and Ann left first for their long journey to Felixstowe. The rest of us went to the play park on Llandaff Fields for a while, before Kath Anto and Rhiannon left for Kenilworth. We have the pleasure of nearly two weeks with Rachel, but only until Tuesday with Jasmine, who returns early to Arizona with her dad on Thursday.

In the evening we sat and watched the video of Despicable Me II, and laughed a lot. Jasmine seemed to know lots of the lines, so I guess she's seen it several more times than us. Great fun.