Peelers

I woke up refreshed to bright sunshine having enjoyed a good night's sleep. The rain clouds have passed but there's still a strong cold north easterly wind today. Clare opted to attend the Welsh language Eucharist this afternoon so I went to St Catherine's on my own. A toddler was baptised during the service and there were several others in attendance too. Interestingly they weren't as noisy as they tend to be if they come in from Sunday Club, caught up in the atmosphere of the occasion I think. I was charmed by the sight of a four year old walking around holding the hand of a toddler in a motherly way, not fussed over by parents, apparently at ease in church. 

I relaxed without dropping off to sleep after lunch and went out for an hour's walk before the sun reached the horizon. Two horse chestnut trees on the avenue through Llandaff Fields suffered from storm damage yesterday, one lost most of its canopy branches above the trunk, the other was felled nearer the ground but neither was uprooted. Neither had leaves and looked in poor condition, diseased and weak after spells of drought. The Council's tree management team's work will be less hazardous as a result.

After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Blue Lights' on BBC iPlayer, about trainee police officers in Northern Ireland, a keenly observed 'cops and crooks' drama, portraying the unique challenges and risks faced by the Police Service of Northern Ireland in urban Belfast post-Good Friday agreement, from organised crime in volatile communities with a tribal distrust of the authority of 'Peelers', the antique nickname for law enforcement officers still in use. It's beautifully written and acted, compelling watching. I'll have to ration myself to one or two episodes a night to avoid staying up far too late.

 

Welsh monsoon weekend

Serves me right for not going to bed early enough, I woke up tired after sleeping uncomfortably. It rained in the night and all morning. The second named storm of the past two days has swept through Britain bringing high winds and heavy downpours in many places. The El Niño phenomenon in the Pacific has far reaching influence on weather elsewhere in the world. We may even see snow this autumn as temperatures drop. A flood alert has been issued for South Wales this morning. Drains are blocked with fallen leaves, causing huge puddles in some streets.

Extreme weather has been the subject for a dramatic story in 'The Archers' this week with a violent storm felling a tree and injuring Vince Casey, and a toppling chimney destroying the Orangery at Lower Loxley Hall on Pip and Stella's wedding day. 

Clare, up early, cooked breakfast pancakes while I was still asleep and cooked a veggie pasta for lunch while I was writing. I had a short snooze after the meal and read for a while before plucking up courage to go for a walk to clear my head. It was still raining with random gusts of wind from the west, so violent and random that I only managed to walk for a quarter of an hour before a spoke of my brolly broke and jammed the mechanism open, making it unusable and too much of a risk to leave outdoors in the  wind. Ah well, it was an old brolly in poor condition after decades of wear. Time for a new one.

Before and after supper I watched the rest of 'State of Play' which held my attention right to the end, even if the revealing of the murderer was rather an anti-climax. It won three BAFTA and proved good enough to warrant an American version appearing six years after the original was screened in 2003. The story spotlighted the background to the oil industry influence on lobbying political decision making and the scrutiny of exploitation plans in the years before global warming from fossil fuels was taken seriously. At first sight I was unsure when this movie was made. Its setting was a period piece newsroom with few computers and the odd fax machine. A lot of printed material was piled high on desks. Email was referred to very occasionally. There were no smartphones and only cassette tape recorders were in use. I thought it might be a newer movie, set twenty years ago until I looked it up on IMDB.

I reset all the household clocks before bed, as Summer Time ends tonight. 

Scanned at Llandough

I slept fairly well. The back pain is slowly reducing, though it does take longer to get up carefully for a pee in the night. So far so good, I haven't made it worse. I allowed two hours to get to Llandough hospital after breakfast by public transport for a bowel and bladder scan at midday. Rather than take a taxi to reach there on time, I wanted to find out how much waiting and travelling time was needed for the bus trip.

First a 61 to the bus station in town. Then a thirty five minute journey on a 95 bus bound for Barry island calling at Llandough hospital. The hospital isn't mentioned on timetable display panels even though buses drive into and out of the hospital grounds. I got off at Outpatients stop only to find I needed to get off at the main entrance instead. It was raining and strong gusts of wind blew as I walked the 300 yards there. 

The radiology unit is near the Outpatients entrance but this was not indicated. I had to double back down the corridor said to be one of the longest hospital corridors in Europe, running down the length of the building to reach my destination. There are so many signs overhead and on walls it's not easy to identify the place you're looking for. It's just as well I arrived an hour early for my appointment, better than being late because I couldn't find my way there or missed a timely bus. I only had a twenty minute wait to be scanned. I needed to be scanned twice as my bladder wasn't full enough to give a satisfactory image. I had to drink a litre of water and wait half an hour to complete the process.

With a half hour wait for a return bus, rather than wait in a rickety shelter blasted by gusts of cold wind, I went into the cafeteria and had fish and chips for lunch at a reasonable price. A  95 bus took me to the bus station where 61 was about to depart. I was home again by two, pleased to learn the scan revealed nothing of concern.

It's useful to know the journey to Llandough hospital from home can be done in about an hour. Twice as long as a taxi would take, but free with a pensioner's bus pass. Back pain is diminishing now and didn't prevent me sleeping in my arm chair for an hour. I went out at sunset and walked up and down Llandaff Fields for an hour as it got dark. Clare cooked fish and couscous for lunch and kept a portion back for me. Neither of us expected the hospital trip would take so long, so I had my lunch for supper, happy to eat fish twice in a day.

While I was out Clare arranged for someone in the neighbourhood WhatsApp group to collect the mattress whose softness has given me back pain. It would support a child better than an adult. The bedroom feels so spacious with just one single bed in it. We still have a spare single tucked under the main bed. but it needs a suitable mattress.

I spent the evening watching a couple of episodes of 'State of Play', portraying journalists in pursuit of oil lobbyists spying on a parliamentary energy select committee chairman through a researcher who is murdered, but by whom? They are unscrupulous in their use of bribery and compromising information to acquire information relevant to the story they want to tell. Corrupt politicians and spin doctors influence police detectives to deflect investigation away from embarrassing truths that journalists want to uncover, and are then accused of perverting the course of justice. It's intriguingly complex, enough to keep me up later than is good for me when I'm nursing a bad back.

Global cyber vulnerability alert

Bedroom rearrangement required a change in habit on my part. When I got up for a pee, half asleep I reached for support to balance myself safely on a fitting that wasn't there. After the stroke, a grab handle was installed beside the bed. I don't need it to haul myself out of bed, but to steady myself when standing. I supported my weight and eased the back pain by leaning on a chest of drawers while standing, without mishap. Somehow I slept quite well despite the duvet slipping off the bed which was not against the wall, plus the usual interruptions. A single ibuprofen tablet calmed my lower back muscles by the time I'd eaten breakfast. Then I rearranged the mattresses to make sure my bed was next to the grab handle. I can rely on established habit to get me through an inevitably wakeful night hereafter.

Clare went shopping. I cooked sea bass and veg for lunch. In the news, reports of a security vulnerability in the PHP scripting language used widely by internet servers to process interactive web pages. Analysis of PHP in use through AI scrutiny flagged up a weakness hackers could use to access the server side of web pages. Security patches for vulnerable software are issued routinely and usually discreetly. News of concern and the fix for it diffused rapidly among web masters globally, and among hackers. Financial and public service websites around the world were taken off-line immediately as a necessary precaution against malign actors, as hackers tried to access and investigate sites with their own aims in mind, whether out of curiosity or ill-will. 

A news sensation of this kind can play a part in educating the ordinary user about threats to digital infrastructure that would be a key implement in cyber warfare. Attacks can affect energy and food supply chains as well as financial transactions. AI shows dangerous potential as a hacking tool in launching cyber offensives. What on earth is the world doing, developing resources able undermine the foundations on which modern life rests, and thinking that such an ultra powerful servant can forever be kept in check by innovators whose intentions and sense of values may contradict and conflict with each other? Reliance on things digital sacrifices resilience on the altars of gods of efficiency and convenience. Scripture reminds us idols end up consuming their worshippers. Do we pay attention?

At a time when high street banks and cash machines are disappearing from our streets at an inconvenient pace, it's ironic that a government minister exhorting preparedness for disaster should be advising citizens to stock up on non perishable food, bottles of water, and cash in case supply chains fail to deliver, or the entire 'tap and pay' transaction system is disabled by cyber criminals, or by total failure of the power grid, as happened in Spain earlier this year. 

I got myself out of the house and walked for a couple of hours around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields before sunset with little bother from back pain, and I took a few photos of autumnal colours. It's sitting around for too long that gives me trouble. I spent the evening watching a couple of episodes of a conspiracy thriller on ITVX called 'State of Play'. Investigative journalists and the Metropolitan Police investigating the same crime in competition and contention with each other, neither side knowing exactly what they're up against from the outset. Interesting.

Aberfan remembered

I slept well and woke up to a dull damp day. My back is still painful but less so. I took an ibuprofen to minimise the discomfort when walking to church. Today is the 60th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster in which an unstable coal tip collapsed into a landslide overwhelming a village school and a row of houses, killing 116 children and 28 adults. The Eucharist at St Catherine's today prayed for the victims while remembering the tragedy, quoting a poem written at the time and Archbishop Cherry's reflective statement. 

That week in 1966, I'd just started work at the Shell-BP group offices in Vine Street Bristol after graduation, having failed to get a grant for a post graduate social work course in the gap year before starting ordination training. After the news broke, a group of fund raisers were on the street with buckets collecting cash from office workers for the Aberfan appeal. Archbishop Glyn Simon who later ordained me, was on telly giving an epilogue that night. I don't recall what he said, but I do remember Dad, an occasional church going skeptic, being impressed by what he said. 

An on-line news article today reports the continued challenge of dealing with old coal tips despite decades of landscaping work restoring industrial sites since the closure of South Wales mines over a quarter of a century ago. The risk of landslides from coal tips in the Valleys has increased because of climate change. Torrential rain storms accumulate water in bedrock where mining waste, coal shale and sandstone rubble was dumped. What happened at Aberfan could happen at other sites. When the tragedy happened, potential danger from dumping coal waste from Merthyr Vale colliery and extreme weather were not taken seriously, nobody was held accountable, even if lessons were learned after the tragedy. Monitoring and remediating coal tips at risk of collapse is now obliged by public safety legislation. 

Merthyr Vale pit was known as Navigation Colliery. It yielded high quality coal used in steamships. High productivity was essential during and after the war, but waste was piled up without much attention to the risk involved or the consequences. Assessing environmental impact is important in developing industrial domestic, commercial and infrastructure projects nowadays. It can be a bone of contention and political power games when enthusiasm for the need of a project is called into question. It can lead to long delays and rising costs, as we're seeing with HS2 and a proposed third Heathrow runway. In every case, due diligence is necessary to make sure such a terrible tragedy never happens again.

I cooked fish and veg for lunch when I got back from church as Clare hadn't yet returned from a talk about Aberfan at Conway Road Methodist Church 'Over Fifties' club. Unfortunately I burned the rice I was cooking due to a lapse in concentration, so we ended up having couscous instead. I had an acupuncture treatment with Peter at two thirty. When I got home I slept for an hour, mostly in a deep sleep which disposed of some of the stress generated by managing back pain. Meanwhile Clare rearranged the furniture in the study where I sleep, to accommodate two single beds moving her desk into the front bedroom. This enables me to sleep on a firmer mattress and keeps the softer one that distresses my back in reserve for when we have guests who are lighter in weight than me.

After supper I went to the Co-op to buy bananas. It was raining and pitch dark, conditions in which I'm most aware of visual impairment. When the clocks go back I will need to get up earlier and make sure I've done my daily distance earlier to make the most of daylight hours. It's bad enough on low light days under overcast skies.

Yesterday's appointment letter today

I went to bed too late and lost a couple of hours' sleep. Serves me right if I have a miserable day. When the clocks go back next weekend I'll have a natural opportunity to reset the timing of when I go to bed and get up. Overcast and cold today.

In the morning mail, a letter  dated 14th October arrived for the appointment I had yesterday. Included with the letter from the Clinical Gerontology Incontinence service was a chart to record 24/7 bladder emptying times and measured amounts with an extra column for accidental discharge. As if sleep loss from peeing wasn't enough to cope with, now the clinicians expect you to do homework as well. Heaven help anyone with serious cognitive impairment or physical disability. 

I called the contact number, and got through to the relevant medical secretary at St David's Hospital to report what had happened. This is not the first time an appointment letter arrived from UHW after the event. Fortunately I'd been informed digitally as well. It didn't prevent me arriving late having misjudged the walk time, but I had been dealt with nevertheless without the need to report my urinary output. I was told that my medical notes folder was empty yesterday due to a forgotten photocopy. Just a slight whiff of chaos running through routine organisation with additional poor timing on my part.

Clare's study group arrived at ten. I sat in the lounge and watched the final episode of 'Cleddau'. Running through both series is the story of the decline and demise of the father of the leading investigator, a retired criminal lawyer, whose memory loss pervades his active life impairs his quick mind and leading to him to reach false conclusions about what is happening in his world. It leads to comic as well as tragic incidents in the background of the story. It ends with a moving death bed scene. A worthy side track that sheds light on the domestic pressures besetting the protagonist, on top of her own personal vulnerabilities. The crimmie packs a lot of insight about contemporary issues in its Pembroke Dock setting.

I cooked a quick lunch after the study group departed, with tinned mackerel in tomato sauce and veg that included the first Brussels sprouts of the season. The distinctive aroma from the steamer announces when they are perfectly cooked. Clare went to a meditation session after lunch, and I went to the Post Office in drizzling rain to put some dollars on Rachel's Post Office Money Card account. I was shocked to be informed that the card number was invalid. Both the counter clerk and I tried the code on the keypad and got the same response from the card reading system. It's possible that the card recently in use has expired, in which case a new one could be in transit. I sent a message to Clare and one to Rachel asking her to confirm the details and card expiry date. It turned out there was a transcription error in the card number I was given, but that wasn't the only issue. Apparently there's been a Google Cloud outage today affecting banking apps. More chaos.

A phone call came through on my mobile when I was out of reach, followed by a landline call from the Radiology unit at Llandough to book me for an ultrasound bladder and bowel scan this Friday following up on yesterday's consultation at St David's hospital. I was surprised to receive this so promptly, given how long it took for yesterday's appointment from the initial referral.

I walked for an hour at sunset and returned home in time for supper and 'The Archers'. With Hallowe'en approaching BBC iPlayer is screening 'The Reluctant Vampire' and 'The Vampire's Revenge' an adaptation of the 1982 children's novels by master comedian Eric Morecambe with a story line full of brilliant gags and laugh out loud dialogue and a cast of comedy stars. The silliness of the tale is rather tiresome but the wit and humour of the dialogue is a redeeming feature. Earlier bed time tonight as tiredness has dogged me all day.

Drama as education

I felt the benefit of a firmer mattress for a second night, sleeping fairly well and feeling less stiff with little pain in my back and hips. I was able to walk briskly to St David's hospital for my appointment, but mis-timed it and arrived ten minutes late. I mistakenly took a queuing ticket for blood test patients and waited for a while before realising this. There was no receptionist as such for doctor appointments, but eventually a nurse called my name. By this time I'd received a message from Clare to say the hospital had phoned to check why I hadn't turned up. She said I'd left home, and that was when a search was started for me in the waiting room where I was sitting waiting... If there's nobody overseeing arrivals and checking what they have come for, this is what happens.

I had my blood pressure taken and I was weighed in my clothes and shoes. A nurse interviewed me, as the case file with my name on it arrived empty. I gave a pee sample and had an ultrasound scan of my empty bladder, and then a conversation with the duty Registrar, instead of Dr Morse, who had presumably moved on to other patients due to my lateness. I didn't get the opportunity to say to her that I'd had a reprieve from the medication she described as a life sentence six months ago. The Registrar advised me of a couple of possible drugs I might request if my prostate was playing up, and referred me for a prostate scan, in the light of the frequency of emptying my bladder at night. I had a phone call from him when I got home to warn that traces of blood were found in my urine. Given the issue I had with a big kidney stone nineteen years ago, there could be vulnerable scar tissue in my kidneys or bladder affected by the impact of the meds I've taken over the years in my urine. And I'm taking the prescribed daily aspirin that thins the blood. Anyway, I hope there's nothing more ominous about to ambush me.

When I got home Clare was cooking lunch. Fish for herself and roasting chicken pieces for me, which was a surprise. I siesta'd for nearly an hour after we'd eaten, then walked in Llandaff Fields for three quarters of an hour. I spotted a Jay digging with its beak in a rotting log beside the path linking Llandaff Fields and Pontcanna Fields and took a few photos. I read somewhere that jays have a reputation as tree planters. It's not what a zoologist would say. They call it acorn caching. Jays fill their crop with them and select a place to bury them for retrieval in winter. Forgotten nuts may germinate and drive the natural expansion of oak woodland.

After supper I continued watching the mass murder mystery 'Cleddau' on iPlayer. Stalking and identity theft were portrayed in tonight's episode storylines. This is public information and education by means of drama. Occasionally dialogue proceeded too rapidly for me to read and make sense of the subtitles. I had to rewind, and ended up going to bed rather later than intended again.