Something completely different to watch

It was a cold night until first light, then the air temperature rose from near zero to ten degrees, and I had to discard the extra blanket in order to be comfortably warm, not overheated. Overcast cloud again all day, however. After breakfast I made a video slide show to go with the podcast interview, so I could upload it to YouTube for posting on the Daily Prayer WhatsApp thread. I thought the visuals could help to make the content more recognisable. There may be more useful podcast hosting sites which I've yet to discover, but I'm not thinking of wider circulation, just the target user group in the Ministry Area. We'll see how it goes.

There was a coffee morning at St John's, so I went there and had soup, sausage rolls and a mince pie for lunch. Clare had already gone to the Fountain School Christmas Fayre in Llandaff North, and got back from there, just as I was setting out for my walk in the park. When I got back Clare was busy baking cake and then moved on to making mince pies ready for our four day rural Christmas holiday party. I scanned two more folders of negatives. One was from a hike up the mountain behind La Baume in Haute Savoie in 1997, and the other from a holiday locum in Howarth, Bronte Country in 1985, when it rained a lot, though we did have a few fair days to judge by the photos I took of a walk alongside the Leeds to Liverpool Canal.

I made supper early, as I was feeling really hungry after a snack lunch - mussels with brown rice and peas. Then I edited the scanned photos and uploaded them. Looking for something to watch to finish the day, I found a BBC Four drama series called 'Lykkeland' or 'State of Happiness in English, telling the story of the birth of the Norwegian Oil industry in the 1980's, and how this transformed the country's economy.  

There are three series in twenty four episodes. Having been predominantly a port with canning fish as its key industry Stavanger became its oil capital. The story of its development is told from the standpoint of locals and American oil prospectors, family domestic drama and the dangerous world of heavy industry meet. It's a superbly acted immaculately portrayed period piece about life before the internet at a time when huge upheavals are about to take place at every level of society affecting individuals differently. Is it the Scandinavian equivalent of Dallas? Maybe not. It has a solid historical basis, even if character driven story-lines are fictional. It's so different from your usual Scandi-Noir crimmies. I look forward to the other twenty two episodes there are to watch in weeks to come.

A matter of death and life

Back under cloud cover again today. Getting to bed half an hour earlier helped me get up a bit earlier, just after an excellent Thought for the Day by Catholic journalist Catherine Pepinster in which she spoke about the Christian concept of Conscience on this day when Parliament debates the draft bill on assisted dying. The public debate so far has been very interesting, as it has raised a host of practical questions and doubts whose seriousness may have escaped the attention of proponents of the bill. The very last stage of life is often fraught with physical suffering and mental anguish. 

I can understand what makes this intolerable for some, and leads them to hasten their own death. It already happens legally in ten countries under certain conditions and probably in many more countries outside the gaze of the law. 'Thou shalt not kill' is a moral imperative widely ignored when it comes to war. For better or for worse medical science prolongs life and on times, it does so when it be more compassionate to stop treatment and let a person die naturally. 

Actively helping people on their way is a different issue, however, and very complex. The law is a mess on end of life issues. I wouldn't want to be kept alive if I was too so sick that relationships with my nearest and dearest were no longer possible, but let my end be natural not managed. Others may think differently. Suicide is no longer against the law. Accountability for assisting someone to die on their own terms must be under strict scrutiny, but with criminal sanctions used as a last resort. And that's where it gets very complex. One thing that will keep coming to the fore is the fact that not enough is invested in caring for the elderly vulnerable, in end of life care and palliative care. Let's hope that the very fact of this present debate will help shift priorities.

There are also questions to consider about there being a right to take one's own life. Is this right the ultimate consumer freedom? Customising your demise goes way beyond customising your funeral just because you can, whether or not your choices please others. How does duty and responsibility towards others fit with 'rights'? It's painfully individualistic, choosing to cut all interpersonal bonds, ignoring the community nature of any farewell ritual imposing your choice on others who feel obliged to carry out your dying wishes without an honest say in the affair? Nobody should have to suffer, not have too much say in how others mourn your passing. 

While I was making breakfast, I had a call from Ruth about the podcast. She had concerns about a few of the things she had mentioned. I made a note of them and reassured her that I could edit them out, rather than her needing to come around and re-record. I got to work after breakfast, and after an hour and a half of tinkering with the audio, she was satisfied with the outcome. Meanwhile the aroma of Christmas fudge and the sound of Clare beating it in the kitchen reached me in the front room.

We had a salad lunch including Greek gigantes beans that Clare slightly overcooked, which gave them an interesting slightly caramelised flavour. Then I went out early for a walk, up to Western Avenue and down the east bank of the Taff to the Millennium Bridge and back home. I was interested to see what traces there were of the river overflow last weekend. There are still treacherous patches of mud on the hard of the path which haven't yet dried out, branches and twigs carried by water caught up in bramble patches and in occasional pieces of fencing. Low hanging trees and undergrowth have trapped plastic sheeting and bags, a sad and ugly sight, with little likelihood of the plastic being removed.

In the five o'clock news, we learned that Parliament has adopted the assisted dying bill. That means it will be scrutinised, subjected to modification by both Houses. Today's debate will I suspect, continue a process that will eventually lead to effective legislation. What the eventual outcome will be remains to be seen.

The whole world was treated to news video footage of the interior of Notre Dame de Paris during today's visit by President Macron today. It's a wonderful sight, with the stonework and stained glass cleaned of seven centuries of grime, so it now looks as it did when it was first completed seven centuries ago, full of light and warmth. Restoration cost €700 million, most of it raised from donations. It was inspiring to hear one of the carpenters working on rebuilding the roof speak on the Today programme this morning. Asked about the reason for using medieval wood working tools to fashion the oak roof beams, he said this was necessary to obtain the highest quality most durable timbers to work with. It seems that mechanical saws stress the wood cutting too much across the grain when the older slower gentler implements didn't. There's a lesson about life to be learned in this, one which I'm sure the luthier working on Dad's 'cello will be well acquainted with.

We went out for supper at Stefano's for a change. When we got back I scanned another batch of negatives from a 1997 hike in Haute Savoie, I think, though I'm not sure where we walked. It may have been up the mountain behind La Baume. Lovely times.

Podcast making

The temperature went down to minus two last night. The humidity dropped so it didn't feel as chilly and I got a good night's sleep. Blue sky with some cloud all day. I woke up on schedule to post today's YouTube link to WhatsApp, and got up after Thought for the Day rather than listening to the news in bed.

After breakfast, we walked into town with my Dad's 'cello for a consultation at Cardiff Violin Centre in Castle Arcade. Its retail interface is located on the balcony level of shops and offices. The arcade is now decorated for Christmas so the view from upstairs is interesting and photogenic. Except that I didn't have a camera with me. The walls of the Centre's reception desk are lined with rows of violins with a range of beautiful wood colours and sizes, all hanging by the head. Beyond that, a suit of rooms linked by a corridor. All the walls are lined with rows of violins of varying sizes, and astonishing sight. I'll be back next time with a camera. It turns out that the 'cello needs more work done on it than we realised to restore it to top condition. Clare is determined to see this done before Rachel comes for her next visit in January.

Clare stayed on make the necessary arrangements and then went to a shoe shop, while I returned home to cook lunch in haste, as Ruth was due to visit at two, for a podcast recording session. After a somewhat nervous start for both of us, we produced half an hour's worth of audio to clean up and edit the clips into a useful shape. It took me a couple of hours of sessions with an afternoon walk in the park sandwiched in. I finished the job after supper, adding an introduction with background accompaniment using clips from Rachel's Tucson workshop composition to top and tail the interview. I wasn't sure if I could do this without making mistakes, and was pleased this trial turned out to be error free. I sent a copy to Rachel to listen to, and she approved. All in all, a constructive day's work. I wonder what Ruth will think of it?

Passing resemblance

A cold night and morning, but waking up to blue sky with sunshine and some cloud. It's the sort of damp cold that clings to you and makes it hard to get warm and stay warm whatever you wear unless you do vigorous exercise. Then when you start sweating you end up getting cold quickly. Not my favourite kind of weather. It's almost a relief when the temperature drops below zero as the air becomes less humid and less clingy, so to speak.

There were seven of us for the Eucharist at St Catherine's. Rachel brought baby Sebastian with her. Today for the first time he gave me a smile or two, which warmed my heart. Rachel gave me some gigantes from the two kilo gab she brought back from visiting her in-laws in Athens at half term. We got to talking about food pleasures many weeks ago, things you like when you're abroad and can't easily get here. What a nice gift! Sion told us about the six months he spent at an ecumenical work camp at Locarno in the Ticino back in the '80s. It reminded me of the time we spent in Lugano on a Sunday duty exchange with the chaplain there, who had worked in Geneva for years before he was ordained.

On the way home I collected the veg bag from Chapter, then cooked fish for lunch while Clare went out to pick up a prescription from the chemists. Then I went for a walk, first for a circuit of Thompson's Park, then to Victoria Park, something I haven't done for a long while. I was pleased to see that the noticeboard at St Luke's church has been replaced by a new bilingual one, advertising its monthly Welsh language Eucharist. It replaces a noticeboard which may have been fifteen years old and never properly updated. Talking of noticeboards, another new noticeboard was delivered to St Catherine's this morning while the service was going on. It's for advertising events in the church hall, and other community notices. It has a lockable double window opening for easy access. It will make a difference to the look of the church yard from the street. No more laminated A4 posters tied to the fence with string!

Walking back, I was addressed by a man passing in the opposite direction who said: "You look just like Billy Connolly!" I don't know why. In response I said: "I've also been told I look like Sean Connery. Unfortunately I don't make any money out of this!" I walked on, crossed the road and went to the Co-op to get some paper hankies, and met the same man a second time who repeated his allegation. Bizarre. Later I googled Billy Connolly. His white hair is longer than mine, and his beard is much longer. Even so it may explain why often strangers in the park look at me and half smile as they pass puzzling maybe, over why my face may seem familiar. It never occurred to me before!

After supper I scanned another couple of rolls of film negatives from 1987. One, a camping holiday in the Vaucluse Parc Natural de Luberon, plus a few shots taken somewhere in Switzerland to judge by the domestic architecture, but exactly where I couldn't work out or recall. The other was taken on a trip to Taize, a rare occasion when almost an entire roll of film turned out under-exposed, to the point that some scans tweaked to the limit in a decent photo editor revealed no information about the subject. I'm trying to figure out how it happened. The only way that could happen would be if I set the camera incorrectly for the film speed used. A slow film with a shutter setting far too fast, I think.

I stopped in time to watch this week's episode of 'Shetland' at nine, then the news, to hear more about the ceasefire in the Israel-Hezbollah conflict. Still nowhere near a resolution of the inhumane tragedy of the conflict with Hamas, where nearly 70% of the 45,000 victims have been women and children, according to the United Nations. Netanyahu and the Israeli extremists who keep him in power have a lot to answer for, but will any of them ever be brought to justice, when the fighting is over.

Reith Lectures 2024

It was good to wake up to a blue sky and sunshine. I learned from local news that the noisy rain I heard along with thunder last night was a shower of hail, a sign of colder currents of air from another weather system arriving, as storm Bert moves south.

After breakfast, the first of this year's Reith lectures on Radio Four, called 'Four Questions about Violence' by forensic psychiatrist Dr Gwen Adshead who has worked with murderers and other violent offenders in mental hospitals and prisons helping them to come to terms with their crimes. She dispelled the notion that violent people are monsters - ordinary people who take leave of their senses for a particular reason, often shocked by their own extreme behaviour when they stop denying or trying to justify their actions, and face the seriousness of what they've done.

People who resort to extreme violence do so in different circumstances and for a different and complex set of reasons. What triggers the violent response in each individual is a set of factors as unique as the code which releases a combination lock. It can take years in therapy to figure out all the elements involved. There's a lot more to it than this. Her disciplined thoughtful discourse made for compelling listening.

After that, I spent the morning writing a response to a reflection about mission from my friend Rufus. Clare cooked batches of mince pies for Christmas and I cooked lunch, fish for her, pork chops for me, done in the oven alongside the mince pies. 

We ate early enough to allow me to walk for three quarters of an hour while Clare was having a rest. Then I drove her to UHW for an eye appointment, and on returning, continued my walk in the park until just after sunset. She returned home after me, with the surprising news that she'd been diagnosed with viral conjunctivitis. The painful condition of her eye in the past two weeks isn't a consequence of the tear duct operation he had, but an acquired infection. Where she picked that up is anybody's guess. It could give her trouble for many weeks, but at least the pain isn't due to the operation - less worse? I'm not sure.

Apart from a break for supper, I spent the rest of the day binge watching episodes of 'Judge Marianne', sad tales, crazy tales and even a couple of happy tales, and a lots of humorous dialogue making it entertaining to watch, light relief for a change.

Quick return after the deluge

Glimpses of the sun between rain clouds, and periodic showers all morning. Housekeeping chores after breakfast, then I hunted through my photo archive in search of photos of the story Dennis flooding. It took longer than I expected. I was sure I took photos using my Sony HX90, but they weren't in any of my Cloud accounts, or stored on a hard drive. 

All I found was a date gap of a few days, but there was still a last resort. As SD cards became cheaper, I stopped transferring photos to other storage media and recycling the card. The last one I examined was the last one I filled covering 2019-21, and there I found a couple of dozen flood photos from 16-17th February 2020. The inundation was worse then, not as I remembered, as water covered the path as far as the rubbish bin about 300m from the river bank. The river banks broke both sides, but the volume of water moves faster since the river bed was cleared up, so the overspill isn't as extensive this time.

A hundred homes inundated by Taff overflowing in Pontypridd, and Ynysangharad Park flooded, and Ponty Lido surrounded and invaded by flood water. It happened during storm 'Dennis' in February 2020 and put out of action for several years. Flood protection measures taken then were not enough to prevent recurrence. The park was slow to recover due to rain during and after the National Eisteddfod. 

Flood hit municipalities here and abroad come in for strong criticism for lack of preparedness or tardy responses to weather warnings. It's as if those responsible underestimate or cannot imagine the true seriousness of the impact of climate change, despite what scientists keep telling us. It's not exactly denial, but inherent inability to consider that things could be so bad, so quickly. Economic and social priorities need to become more proactive, instead of reactive, to avoid ruinous upheaval. It's not a good place to be.

After tracking down the missing photos I cooked a chick pea curry with brown rice for lunch. It turned out well, and just the right amount for two with no leftovers. Then I went down to Blackweir to check the river and was surprised to see that almost all the water had drained out of the fields. Gulls and crows were having a party around the edges of the remaining small ponds, foraging for worms and other creatures brought to the surface by the water. 

The river overflow washes not only soil containing organic matter on to the paths and surrounding grass but red sandstone sediment, and on top of this a smaller amount of black sediment, possibly particles of coal duty remaining from half a century ago when the waters of the Taff up-river were used for washing coal. There are still places where traces of coal still persist in the woodland soil along the Taff, rather than the riverbed, and this gets washed down when the river bursts its banks.

Once I'd taken photos I returned home and took a shopping list with me to Tesco's to stock up on fresh fruit and a few other rather heavy things we were lacking, and got back just after the sun set. After a cup of tea and some chocolate cake, I made the video slide show to go with the recording of my first Wednesday Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube just before supper.

Later on I found a new series to watch on Channel 4 Walter Presents called 'Judge Marianne'. It's a sort of lightweight crime comedy as opposed to thriller, focusing on the cases of a judge d'instruction - the investigating magistrate in the French legal system, whose role is to manage police enquiries when the prosecutor considers there is a crime to consider and deliver evidence to the prosecutor. It's different from our British legal system procedure, which a police superintendent manages an investigation in consultation with the Department for Public Prosecution, if I understand things correctly. Anyway the setting for these stories is Toulon on the French Riviera Cote du Var. The scenery and the dialogue is familiar and easy to follow, thanks to the year we spent living in the region. Quite funny, but with tragic thoughtful elements.

Big rumbles of thunder and a noisy shower of rain at bed time.

Storm Bert fills the Taff to overflowing

Rain in the night and lighter rain most of the morning flood warnings galore. Miserable. We went to Saint Catherine's for the Eucharist. With the Sunday school children, wearing paper crowns in honour of Christ the King at the end, we were over forty. Despite the weather yesterday's Christmas Fayre exceeded last year's revenue by more than ten percent. Hilary remarked on the number of older non churchgoing people from the neighbourhood, among those making the effort to attend the Fayre. It's a positive indication about the good will the church enjoys locally. 

After lunch, I took a brolly and my camera for a walk in the rain down to Blackweir. As expected after two days of continuous rain, often heavy was exceptionally high, high enough to break through the banks on both sides, flooding the fields. It was worse this time than when the fields last flooded, with water this time reaching up as far as the initial west side flood protection dyke where the ground level rises sharply by about a metre. The last time this happened on 17th Feb 2020, during storm 'Dennis'. I'm not sure without checking the photos I took then if it was as bad then. I need to check my photo archive. Then I walked up to the Western Avenue road bridge and there the water was spilling over on both sides of the river, and the Taff Trail was awash. 

Up until now remedial work on a few places on the banks and riverbed undertaken after the last big inundation have contained heavy flow pretty well. The volume of water and the speed at which it's being dumped by storm 'Bert' suggest a higher scale of magnitude, such as was seen recently in Valencia, on a much bigger scale given the size of the mountains and area of the watershed. I wonder what more can be done in the flood plain occupied by the city, to improve flood protection further? 

I got home just after sunset, a mile short of my daily target. I didn't want to get any wetter than I already was. In the evening we watched Antiques Road show, and then BBC's Young Jazz Musician of the Year. A brilliant and inspiring display of musicianship from competitors aged between 18 and 22. This year a new performance item was added to the programme, in which all four finalists performed a Charlie Parker tune which they'd learned to play together from scratch in the previous 48 hours. Such a joy!

Monsoon-like rain strikes again

I woke up in the night to feel a breath of fresh air on my face, a little warmer than room temperature. No window was open, but if the wind veers to the south west and  blows directly on to the wall outside the bedroom, the slight change in pressure pushes air into the room through leaky window frames or chimney breast not properly sealed. Today it heralded the end of the cold spell of northerly air we've experienced in the last couple of weeks. By mid morning instead of being one degree C it was fourteen, unusually warm for the time of year.

Clare was up before me, receiving an early delivery of fish from Ashton's. She was bagging portions for the freezer when I came down. Having already prepared the batter for waffle making, she instructed me on how to use the waffle iron, so we had waffles for breakfast cooked by me for the first time. No disasters!  Ruth Honey asked me to check a draft order of service for her. It gave me an opportunity to arrange with her a date next week for my first podcast interview in a series I've been planning.

With a change in weather came the rain. it rained non-stop until three in the afternoon. I spent all morning writing then made lunch; fish for Clare, chicken and chorizo for me, the other half of a dish cooked some weeks ago and stored in the freezer with veg for both of us.

What bad luck with the weather for St Catherine's Christmas Fayre this afternoon. Before I went there I had to withdraw some cash to spend. The only place I could think to walk to in the rain with an indoor ATM was the Co-op on Cowbridge Road. A break in the rain was promised, but when left there it was still raining heavily, so I walked to the nearest bus shelter and waited there five minutes until a number 18 bus arrived and took me two stops to the corner of King's Road, within a few minutes walk of St Catherine's. By the time I got off the bus, the rain had stopped, so I wasn't completely soaked when I arrived.

Despite the weather, a decent number of people had turned out, although revenue is bound to be less than last year. I bought three tickets on Clive's bottle tombola stall and won two bottles of wine and another of spicy fruit juice for mulling. I've never had so much luck before! I also bought a jar of apple chutney. As we still have a few of the last batch I made, there's no need to make any more for a while. I returned with a heavy rucksack to deposit my winnings, then went for a walk in the park as rain hadn't yet re-started. It was just after sunset when I set out and walking in the dark with no moon after rain was more an act of endurance than a pleasure. I spent the rest of the day exchanging messages and responding to emails.

Photo puzzle success

Cold and sunny again today. After breakfast, a heavy load of shopping for rye loaves and bread flour to fetch from Beanfreaks. Sausages for lunch, then a walk in the park. Audio recording and editing while the house was quiet with Clare out for her post siesta walk. 

After supper I continued scanning photo negatives from 1986, and adding them to the same Google Photos account so I could sort the jumble of images into what would have been their original rolls of film. Over the years the thirty odd strips of surviving negatives have been shuffled and scratched. Fortunately the Windows 11 photo editor contains a cloud app facility for repairing a digital image which was useful for restoration. Curiously it's no quicker that the equivalent facility in Google Picasa was fifteen years ago, though it is more accurate. So, there were photos of a visit to Aberaeron, of domestic pets, the school run and visitors in Chepstow, and of our family holiday in Cork. 

There were three group photos of our family with another family. It took me twenty four hours of puzzling to recall who they were, as I mistook the setting in which they were taken. These two were taken in Cork, in the Rectory garden of Canon Michael Mayes USPG's Church of Ireland representative, an ex missionary in Japan. He later went on to be elected a Church of Ireland Bishop. I was replacing him while he took his annual summer holiday. I found no photos of Cork city. I remember it rained constantly for the best part of two weeks, and stopped only for a hike in Lee Valley nature reserve and Blarney Castle. Or is there another set of negatives lurking somewhere in the box? Most delightful, several photos I took of Owain (8) having a lesson with Jane Francis, a Suzuki violin teacher. Rewarding piecing together a visual jigsaw of family life 38 years ago.

1986 revisited

Clear sky, sunshine and it feels like freezing, though it's four degrees above. I woke up and posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp, at seven thirty, listened to Thought for the Day and got up to make breakfast at eight. I prepared my first Advent Wednesday Morning Prayer text, and reflection, then walked to Tesco Extra to  buy a printer cartridge for Clare, and make the most of the early sunshine. I also bought a 32GB SD card for a bargain £7. I keep a spare one in my wallet, just in case I run out of space or a camera card malfunctions. It's rare for that to happen, but the cost of being prepared is worthwhile at such a low cost.

I arrived home just in time for lunch - a fillet of hake with veg. In this week's veggie bag, some very small young beetroot. Clare cooked them, and they were deliciously sweet and soft. You could serve them for a dessert with sour cream or thick yoghurt. 

Then, a walk in Thompson's Park. Today all five of the family of moorhens were out foraging in the mud at the edge of the pond at the same time, quite indifferent to the mallards milling around them with the drakes competing with each other aggressively before mating. Days and sometimes weeks can go by without seeing the moorhens all together, tempting me to think that the family may have moved on or dispersed. Last summer's chicks are now as big as their parents. In the trees on the north side of the park, a squirrel perched on a branch was making what I thought was a loud alarm call (confirmed by Google search) High above among branches with few leaves I saw the movement of a bird which I couldn't see clearly. It wasn't a crow or a jackdaw, nor a slimmer magpie. 

I took a picture at the limit of my Olympus telephoto lens which suggested a larger bird with a pale chest, its head was obscured by a tree trunk. It may have been a peregrine falcon, as a pair of them occupy a nest in the Cathedral's spire about half a mile away. Earlier I saw a dead squirrel in the grass by the side of the path near the stand of trees, and wondered if it had been killed by the raptor. The path is frequented by dog walkers, so it's possible the bird was interrupted earlier in the day, and would have to wait until it was quiet to finish the job and take the squirrel back to its nest, if not consume it on the spot. I'll know when I check the place tomorrow. In addition, I saw a Jay, a Dunnock, a blackbird and a pair of parakeets on the wing, along with the ubiquitous robins that act as if they own the place. No photos to show for it however. I was home half an hour before sunset, and dozed off in the chair until it was dark. Quite pleasant really.

After supper, I returned to photo negative scanning again. I picked a pack dated 1986, and got through eighty negatives, about two thirds of what was there. They were mixture of two rolls of film, taken with my Praktica SLR. One was of the family shot at our home in Park View Chepstow, and the other on holiday in County Cork, when we took the kids to visit Blarney Castle, and hiking in the Lee River Valley and to see Gougane Barra Church, known as St Fin Barre's Oratory. It's set on an island in a lake, the site dates back to the 6th century, though the present shrine church was built in 1903. Apart from pilgrimage devotion to the saint, this was an important place where Catholics gathered up-river, well away from Cork in the 18th century, when English Penal Law forbade people from hearing Mass. It's a sobering reminder of how much cruel oppression stained the history of protestant Britain I took the photos, but don't remember doing so. Intriguing.

Volcano visit

I woke up to sunshine a cloudless sky, and a temperature just above freezing. A day for brisk walking! On the way to St Catherine's for the Eucharist I called at the Co-op to buy our food bank contribution. There were six of us with Fr Sion for the service, and for coffee afterwards. The Gospel was the parable of the talents. Sion pointed out something that had never occurred to me before. The story is told as Jesus and the disciples are on the way to Jerusalem. Does he tell this story tongue in cheek, about the success of slaves entrusted with making a return on money invested in them? The disciples have no material assets. Nobody is investing materially in their mission, they are simply following Jesus. 

The one unprofitable slave does nothing with his stake, he has no confidence in his ability to live up to his master's expectation. He's so afraid he buries his stake rather than entrusting it to a bank to accrue interest. As a result he is rejected and loses his place in the master's realm. That's how the business world deals with failure. The disciples have only the Gospel, themselves, and their ability to invest in relationships with others and be a blessing to others. Hiding themselves away in fear yields nothing. The story has been used to encourage disciples to be creative and make the most of their abilities and material resources. Fair enough, but it also has something to say to those who think they have little or nothing to offer.

I collected the veggie bag from Chapter on my way home. Clare had gone to town, so I cooked fish in a creamy white sauce to go with kale, swede, potatoes, and purple sweet potato. The purple sweet potato is a veg new to us, which Clare discovered and wanted to try out. After we'd eaten, I started a batch of bread dough and then went out for my afternoon walk. As it was so cold I got out my thick tweed winter jacket to wear. Even so, I needed to walk vigorously to stay warm. I need to wear a thicker topcoat as well now.

As our central heating is in use now, the bread dough rose quicker than usual. After knocking it back, and rising again in the baking tins, it went into the oven and cooked before supper. With an hour to spare before this week's episode of 'Shetland', I scanned another batch of negatives, a second set from the 1987 holiday in Teneriffe, the missing link, as many of these were photos from our visit to the summit of Mount Teide. This involved a long uphill drive to the cable car terminus, then a ride to the top where we could scramble around on harsh barren ground with occasional patches of snow in summer, hardly surprising as it's 3,700m above sea level, the highest peak in Spain. I took the photos, but can only be seen in a couple of pictures taken in at the hotel in Puerto de la Cruz. I remember the sulphurous smell of steam issuing from vents in ground heated by molten rock a few metres below, but have no visual memory of being up there. It was as if I was seeing the place for the first time. Strange. After Shetland, winding down to bed time.

Family package holiday recalled

During a rainy night cold air from the north arrived, and the temperature dropped to around zero, with rain threatening to turn to sleet in Cardiff, but not succeeding. There may be snow and ice in the Valleys but a city in a coastal plain, is usually several degrees warmer than surrounding areas. Clare went to her study group in Penarth. I worked on a video slide show for Thursday Morning Prayer the week after next. Ruth Honey has agreed to swap days with me from Advent onwards. The daily office lectionary cycle is spread over two years. Over the four years I have been contributing to Morning Prayer one day a week, this is the second time around for the complete cycle on a Thursday. Switching to a Wednesday will give me a fresh set of Psalms and Lessons to draw from for biblical reflection and leading prayer for the next two years.

I went to Tesco's to buy some chicken to cook for lunch. I intended to cook lentils but the jar contained no more than a quarter of what I needed, which I cooked with onions anyway. It turned out to be enough for Clare along with the veggies I cooked as it turned out, but I needed a small portion of chicken as well.

Clare had a flute lesson after lunch. I went to the Pontcanna Street Co-op for lentils and a few other things added to the list, all of which I bought, apart from lentils which were not in stock. It was bitterly cold and worse with the drizzle of rain. I changed my top coat for the long fleece lined hooded coat that I bought last year, then I went out again to complete my daily step quota before dark. Street lights were just coming on as I got home. Snow and ice in November doesn't often happen. It's still a month until winter equinox after all. 

I had supper on my own as Clare went out to meditation group. Then an hour scanning photos again, this time a wallet of pictures from our 1987 Teneriffe package holiday. I scanned eight negatives from this lot  two months ago which got mixed up with others. I now have thirty, taken with my Praktica SLR, the full roll of film. A few negatives show signs of water damage at the point they were taken, not on the ones I scanned, but probably when the film was still in the camera. Perhaps a little moisture crept in when I was changing the prime lens for a zoom lens I also had. Not that it matters. It's strange how little I remember in detail of that holiday, our first ever in Spain.

Most of the images produced are clean and sharp, and some are disappointing as the film was inadequate in low light. Digital editing can improve some, but it has its limits if a scanned picture is extremely over or under-exposed. I still have the Praktica, but haven't used it since 2001 when I bought my first digital camera. Film is expensive, so I'm not that keen to buy a roll to see if it still works. Can I even remember how to use it? Does its shutter stick from time to time?

Bed time already.

Negative scanning evening

Oh dear, overcast and light rain all day and in the evening. Housework after breakfast, then shopping to replenish stocks of plant milks in particular. I cooked a spicy fava bean dish with brown rice for lunch, then took my brolly for a walk in the rain, all the way to Tesco Extra to buy a new handheld food mixer as one of the beaters on our ancient one broke when Clare was using it a few days ago. It might be possible to get a spare pair but how long it would take to source them is anybody's guess.

I had an exchange of emails with my cousin Dianne about a couple of old family photos, and that prompted me to scan more batches of old negatives - ones of family occasions from our time in Monaco, an assortment of negatives from when Kath was a new born in Penyrheol and a few others from St Paul's days. These were negatives of a different size to the standard 35mm ones that I used prior to 2001. I think they were shot by someone using a 110 film, 16mm size negatives. But who? 

Given the years between the two locations there may have been two different people with 110 film cameras, or perhaps one visitor in both places - possibly our dear departed friend David Barker, who also took pictures of our wedding, which I also looked at this evening. In addition there are dozens of much larger negatives shot with Clare's Zeiss Icon bellows camera, which got stolen sadly, when we lived in St Agnes Vicarage. Scanning those negatives one of these days will be a different challenge, as they are 6 x 4.5cm in size, and need a flatbed scanner and the right software to make a good digital image. An enjoyable way to spend the evening on a dark wek night.

Curlew River revisited

A cold overcast start to the day, but the cloud broke up and the sun came through fleetingly later on. We went to St Catherine's for the All Age Eucharist which today included the baptism of a small boy. I had an interesting conversation over coffee with a young woman who has joined the choir recently. She's decided to investigate Christian faith on her own terms, conscious that her contemporaries are not interested. One of her siblings has become a Muslim after inquiring into Islam's teaching about God. Growing up in North Wales she encountered Eastern Orthodoxy through the ministry of the Welsh hermit, Fr Barnabas. Being a singer, choir seemed to be the right place for her to start. I told her how important singing in church choirs had been to me as a teenager and a student. It was how I learned about authentic Christian faith, and encountered the mystery of God, rather than through formal instruction classes.

After lunch, I delivered the remaining fifteen Christmas Fayre leaflets of the assignment I took on last Sunday, having picked up the extras I needed from church earlier. I was still one short annoyingly. I must have re-started delivery at the wrong house, or made an incorrect count. I made the effort to go out early for a walk. As a result I was home half an hour before sunset. In the darkest months yet to come, making the most of daylight hours outdoors may be one practical way to defend myself from wintry melancholia.

After supper we watched a film of Benjamin Britten's opera 'Curlew River'. It's the 60th anniversary of its premiere, and we first heard about it when we were students and bought a record of an early performance. If we hadn't been familiar with the music, and the setting of the performance in what I think is the Parish Church at Aldeburgh, it wouldn't have been as compelling to listen to. The theatrical action was interlaced with beautiful shots of the Suffolk coast, an area we've come to know over years of visiting Eddy and Ann in Felixstowe. For me, it's a special landscape to contemplate, such a contrast to the coast of Wales.

Then I watched the final two episodes of 'Ludwig' to finish the day. A quirky sort of detective series, difficult to follow on times, with an incomplete story line ending, so there'll be another series, sooner or later. Ah well, that's entertainment.

Taff bird lineup

As I got ready for bed last night, I looked out of the window for a glimpse of the full moon. What was a clear sky earlier had acquired a layer of thin cloud, that not even full strength moonlight could illuminate. What a disappointment! Nevertheless I had a good peaceful long night's sleep and didn't wake up until just before nine. I caught up with 'Thought for the Day' on BBC sounds. It was my friend from college days Roy Jenkins talking about Donald Trump's appointment of unqualified unsuitable people to government roles whose only merit is their loyalty to him. Who then will speak truth to power? was his concluding question. 

After a pancake breakfast with added garlic mushrooms, I went out for a walk. Unfortunately the sky was overcast and remained so all day with occasional light drizzle. After a circuit of Llandaff Fields, Clare came out and joined me and we went across to Bute Park to visit the Secret Garden cafe, very busy on a Saturday lunchtime. At the edge of the pool in front of Blackweir Bridge, I noticed a heron a female cormorant and an egret, each about twenty metres apart from each other, observing the water and poised, ready to strike. The pool is rich with elvers and other small creatures. All three birds hunt or forage there as their territories overlap, but I've not seen all three lined up like that before.

We returned home after queuing for a long time and taking longer waiting for our hot drinks to cool down. Clare was satisfied with eating just a samosa at the cafe, but I needed something more substantial, so I cooked a dish with chorizo, chicken and veg, then had a tasty slice of rye bread to go with it for a change. Then another walk, this time to Thompson's Park, where I caught sight of a pair of moorhens mingling on the edge of the pond with the crowd of mallards that occupies most of the space. It's the first time I've seen the moorhens here in several weeks. Fascinating to observe that for much of this year, it's just been female mallards that have occupied the pond, sometimes without a single drake to be seen. The gender balance is now just about equal. It's all a bit strange.

After supper I returned to scanning photo negatives for the first time in a couple of months. Pictures from a trip down the Telemark Canal when we visited Norway and another Clare made to Itzehoe, back in the nineties. It's funny. I had a vague memory of taking pictures, but not seeing them in print, so it was good to see them and remember that special journey. While I was cleaning the images of accumulated blemishes from thirty years of neglectful handling using Windows 11 photo edit tool, Clare was watching an old 'Gavin and Stacey' Christmas special. It reminded me of childhood seasonal family gatherings, and although it's comic satire it was for me uncomfortably true about the world I grew up in, and not in a happy way sad to say.

Full moon afternoon

Cold and sunny today. After breakfast I prepared Thursday Morning Prayer text and reflection for the week after next. Then I went out to buy rye bread and some chicken to cook for lunch. I made a chicken stew with red beans and veg with quinoa, a grain I've grown to like, as it's light and works well with a protein rich meal. 

I went for a walk in the park until sunset. The full moon rose in the sky before the sun disappeared, always an amazing sight. When I got home, I recorded what I'd prepared earlier and edited the audio. After supper I found another Danish crimmie to watch, with high level corruption and a conspiracy involving a wealthy elite, and the government's secret intelligence service, giving rise to a string of murders. There's dialogue in Danish and English but also in German, but it's not yet clear who the German speakers are, or why they are assassinating people. There's also the first episode of a new drama on tonight about East Germany before the Wall came down. I'll keep that for another night when there's nothing else interesting to watch.

Objection lodged

I woke up at seven thirty and posted my YouTube Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp, then lay in bed until eight fifteen listening to the news, but unusually for me didn't go back to sleep. Not that the news was that interesting. It was a mild and sunny day, so I made an effort to get out of the house and walk in Llandaff Fields. It was interesting to observe the different composition of morning walkers, mostly couples, many of whom said Good Morning when passing each other. There were fewer mothers with children and the children's playground was almost empty. Each group has its own social rhythm I think. I spotted a Jay foraging in open grass and in a grass heap the other side of the wall from the playground, and got some pictures I'm pleased with. It's the first time I've seen a Jay in this place. In effect, it adds to the Jay habitat territories I can keep on my watch list.

Clare cooked prawns with stewed veggies with rice for an early lunch. Then I drove her to UHW's School of Dentistry for a mouth examination. He has developed a strange sensation of her tongue being burnt, for no reason she can think of. When I got home, I started drafting a letter of objection to the imposition of parking permits in our neighbourhood. Despite an increased number of cars in the area in the years we've been here the frequency of occasions when I've been unable to park nearby hasn't grown excessively, and then it's almost always overnight. More cars yes, but some residents are away a lot, visiting or working away. Only occasionally is the street full around the clock, if an event keeps people in the city. For the most part there is sufficient turnover in cars needing a parking space. Reserving some spaces with a permit scheme changes the balance of supply and demand, forcing competition between residents un-necessarily. It's not as if civil parking enforcement officers can keep up with offenders. Those who park in yellow line zones get ticketed randomly, not regularly. Maintaining permit checks seems like a waste of resources, when there are many offenders not being fined for parking illegally where road safety is compromised.

At four, I interrupted work and went to Thompson's Park to photograph the sun setting in close proximity to the Wenvoe telecoms mast. It reaches the south side of the mast just a fraction above the horizon, and in a couple of minutes appears to move to the north side of the mast as it disappears from sight. It's a trick of perspective which occurs when the autumnal and winter sun moves east to west low in the sky. It almost seems to roll along the distant horizon. By four twenty two, the sun was gone for the day.

Clare walked back from UHW after what she described as a thorough examination lasting half an hour. More tests are required and another appointment in a few weeks time. After supper I completed my letter of objection, sent it off and received an automated acknowledgement. I wonder how many others have written? It'll be many weeks before a decision is taken, no doubt.

I was trying to remember how the last episode of 'Inspector Montalbano' actually ended, so I looked for it on BBC iPlayer. It's the only one of the thirty seven episodes available there now. BBC viewing rights for the rest have now expired I think. The last one appeared some time after the rest. If I remember correctly, it was only after author Antonio Camilleri died that the final last story could be published and made into a movie. I didn't watch to the end, as I didn't want to get to bed too early.

Good News about The Conway

Sunshine returns again today. It's a few degrees colder, but the air feels fresh and clean, stimulating. As I was having breakfast Lindsey, who manages Pontcanna Pharmacy, called to ask if I could come a quarter of an hour earlier for my annual 'flu jab, booked at ten. I said yes and made an effort to leave and get there on time. By five to I was standing outside St Catherine's locked gates waiting for the church to open, writing an email on my phone to pass the time. Clive and Hilary who usually open up early are away this week, so it was a question of waiting for Fr Sion to arrive. 

I helped him with opening up and preparing for the service. This week, we joined him for the service sitting in the choir stalls. There were five of us, plus baby Sebastian, who's now sitting up almost on his own, and taking notice. His mum parked him on the table after we'd drunk our coffee following the Eucharist, and I sang him Ba Ba Black Sheep, made eye contact, smiled and talked to him - and got a few smiles back, plus some early efforts to imitate the sounds of speech. Sheer indulgence on my part. I'd love to be a grandpa all over again.

When I went to retrieve this week's veggie bag from Chapter, I discovered a stray carrot in last week's bag, in the bottom. Don't know how that got overlooked. When I got back, Clare was cooking sausages and veg in the oven for lunch. It tasted good, but I don't enjoy washing up oily roasting pans afterwards. Then I sat down to read the news on my phone and fell soundly asleep for an hour. My average daily sleep time has risen to eight hours now, even if that means a siesta after I've fallen short at night. I must need it. Now that I have far fewer ministry assignments, I'm somewhat more relaxed, not having to meet deadlines or plan ahead. I think I've subsisted on less sleep than I really need for a long time, and my metabolism is slowly adjusting to a different pattern of activity.

I went out for my afternoon walk taking my Olympus PEN camera with me, but discovered it had run out of charge. After a complete circuit of Llandaff Fields, I went home and picked up my Panasonic TZ95 and went to Thompson's Park in time to take a couple of sunset photos. The high cirrus cloud formation was too extensive and mostly behind houses to get a photo, but the tiny pattern of purple and pale grey clouds tinged with orange was a wonder to behold. Both cameras needed charging this evening.

Weeks ago there was a rumour that The Conway pub, which closed a year ago, was going to re-open, but nothing in the news. Last weekend, I was passing by and there were lights inside. A man inside saw me peeping through the whitewashed window and came out as I was passing the front door. It was Matt, the landlord to be. We chatted for a while. He said that as a Llandaff publican he'd come to The Conway on his night off, to enjoy the food and company. He said that news of reopening had been warmly welcomed in the neighbourhood, and he proposes continuing to offer hospitality in the same spirit. Whether the preliminary work can be done in time for Christmas, he's not sure, we'll see.

After supper I watched the final, rather tragic episodes of 'Those who kill.', and the second of 'Shetland', ninth series, before winding down for the day.

Archbishop's unprecedented resignation

After a sunny start to the day, cloud returned to fill the sky mid morning. After breakfast I drove Clare to the eye hospital, as the eye that's still healing after last month's operation seems to have acquired some minor infection and was giving cause for concern. Within ten minutes of my return, she came back by taxi, having been refused an examination or a place in the queue. She was referred back to the University School of Optometry for evaluation before she can be seen this afternoon. This she would have done if it wasn't for the fact that she was unable to get through to the UHW eye clinic by phone for advice. She then walked to Cathays, and had to wait a long time there to be seen. 

I cooked and ate lunch in Clare's absence, then drove to Cathays to collect her. Before she could sit down and eat her late lunch, someone rang from the UHW eye clinic and offered her an appointment at the end of the afternoon. It's good to see that co-ordination between the two clinic works well in favour of patients needing to be seen urgently. I went to the Pharmacy to collect the prescription she'd been given while she was eating, then  walked in the park for an hour and a half, expecting to drive her back to UHW by five. When I got back, she'd already left, walking to UHW, and she took a taxi back, saving me two journeys in rush hour traffic, one in the dark. That was a relief - to hell with the expense.

I went out before supper to buy a few things from Tesco's, and spent the evening watching more episodes of 'Those who kill'. It's a slow moving detailed police procedural, mixed with glimpses of the domestic life of both police and criminal families, quite interesting but not all that dramatically engaging.

Archbishop Justin announced his resignation at lunchtime, acknowledging, as already stated publicly that his position was untenable, with the loss of confidence in his leadership. I imagine that in ancient times Bishops could be deposed as a result of power struggles between patrons of the nobility, but to quit under public pressure is something else. It's said to be the first time this has ever happened. The Bishop of Lincoln is also said to be under pressure to resign for the same reason.

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?