Registration sorted

A sunny start to the day, then the sky clouded over and it drizzled for the rest of the day. I slept badly, losing three hour's sleep out of nine in bed. I woke up at one stage wondering if I'd switched off the oven, after slow cooking some chicken yesterday afternoon. I had to get up and go down to check in order to settle my mind. I'm no stranger to anxious wakefulness in the night, prompted by unquiet intestines. I felt better for having a shower and washing my hair after breakfast, but the effect of the meds, slowing down my brain and making me feel light headed made it difficult to function normally. 

A walk in the drizzle to try and clear my head, was unfruitful. Clare called me with a request to buy veg pronto from the 'Fruit Bowl' greengrocer's as she'd started cooking and was short of supplies. We've relied on a weekly bag of organic veggies from Coed Organic for nearly twenty years, but after such bad weather in the past year, the cooperative market garden in St Hilary is currently unable to supply produce for veg bag customers. We rely on supermarkets now, and on Jason at 'The Fruit Bowl', where we get bitter oranges for marmalade. The stock is fresh and very varied. His veg labels are neatly hand written.They declare the provenance of the veg he sells. He opens early but closes at four, so a modicum of forethought and planning is needed before cooking in the evening.

Fatigue hit me hard after eating lunch and I slept in my armchair for nearly an hour. Then I checked the Council's postal vote website, and was pleased to see that the downloadable application form I complained about yesterday has been corrected. I set about finding the required identity details and filling in forms for Clare and myself to email .pdf copies of them to the Council's Electoral Services office. Then I went out for another walk to recover from the mental effort of concentrating and checking details were correct. When I was looking for the right email address to send the forms, I noticed we're both on the electoral register, marked as requiring a postal vote. It also says 'If the information is correct you do not have to do anything'. This is in a letter addressed to 'The Occupiers'. It contains both our names, abbreviated as the NHS does using the first forename in full with the second forename initialised. There may have been no need to fill in the forms at all, but I dislike the ambiguity in the way this invitation to register is presented. Registration is valid for all elections over the next three years. I don't recall seeing this box to tick last time we filled in one of these, so maybe it's just as well. Electoral database managers or AI should flag up any duplication in any case. We'll see.

Clare went to choir practice after supper. I recorded next week's biblical reflection while the house was quiet. I was almost finished when she tapped on the front door, having misplaced her door key. only the last minute needed recording separately and adding to what was already recorded. Then, to relax I watched this week's episode of 'Astrid - Murder in Paris' before going to bed early in an attempt to catch up on lost sleep. I've been wondering if this is somehow linked to the seemingly toxic effect the combination of meds have on my brain.

 

Fond memories of Switzerland

Overcast again but no rain. It's Rhiannon's 22nd birthday today. I sent her the photo video I made of pictures taken over the course of her life so far, with Stevie Wonder singing 'Happy Birthday to you' as the sound track. It was hard work with a fuzzy head going through the family photo archive to select photos and build a timeline, but fun to make.

The clot dispersal drugs provoked diarrhea without warning as I was washing and shaving. What a mess. The usual sleepy light headedness followed from taking the blood pressure meds, but a brisk walk to St Catherine's to get to the Eucharist just on time did clear the toxic fog to a degree. Clare didn't come with me as there's a Welsh Eucharist to attend this afternoon. No children in church as it's the second weekend of half term. There were about forty of us. Mother Sue celebrated and preached, Fr Sion is away this weekend.

After lunch and an armchair siesta, I walked in Llandaff Fields for two hours. I was aware of being mildly breathless. My pulse wasn't racing and I didn't need to stop to recover. If I stopped to take a photo or sit for a moment to view an incoming phone message my breathing settled down quickly and naturally. When I reflected for a few moments, fond memories of cross country skiing at 1,200 metres in the Swiss Jura returned to me, and the healthy breathlessness brought on by aerobic exercise. I remembered ascending Mont Blanc by cable car and mild breathlessness at 3,000 metres waiting for the gondola to arrive. Then I remembered the ten minute ascent to from Le Chable (820+ metres) and Verbier (1,500 metres) and the same sensation on arrival. Llandaff Fields is hardly 50 metres above sea level! I've never had this before when out walking in the park, except after increasing my pace for aerobic exercise, going up the slope up to the main road. I'll mention this to the medication specialist when he calls me on Tuesday.

After supper I prepared the text for Wednesday's Morning Prayer next week and wrote a reflection to go with it. As I can't be sure of how well I'll feel, it's important to make the effort in advance, rather than post a last minute apology if I can't make it. I was certainly ready for bed by the time I was satisfied with what I had written.

Welsh Electoral application form shambles

Another overcast drizzly day. Another day of waking with a clear head, soon clouded by the toxic impact of the meds, slowing my thinking, leaving me feeling poorly. I feel like a prisoner. I wonder if this is how people with mental health conditions feel when drugged by antidepressants? 

After our usual Saturday pancake breakfast I made an effort to concentrate on next Wednesday's Morning Prayer video slideshow for uploading to YouTube. It took me  a couple of hours, until Clare called me for lunch. I'm not doing much in the kitchen apart from clearing the table and washing up at the moment. 

I lost my SD card reader, kept in a small box of digital accessories on a side table in between armchairs in the lounge. I've hunted high and low for it with no result. I dug out an old one from the back of a drawer in my study. It has multiple card slots, but is unreliable with a full size SD card, perhaps that's where the fault lies. Thankfully its micro SD card slot works, and these are what I use nowadays. They run faster and have a much larger capacity than the older cards, now relegated to being a very small portable archive. 

The lost card reader hadn't left the house for sure, but being small and black, it had to be somewhere in the shadows where I find it hard to see. Later in the day, I moved an armchair I had moved before and looked beneath and saw nothing. This time, light fell behind a chair leg and there it was!

Rain kept me indoors until mid afternoon. I walked under the brolly for an hour, braving gusts of wind and drizzle to try and clear my head without success, and went out again to the Coop for bananas after supper. 

In today's mail a notification to confirm we are on the electoral register, and can apply on-line for a postal vote. When I downloaded the application form I discovered that the layout formatting of the English language version and that of the Welsh language are not identical. Separate boxes aren't provided for the applicant's forenames and address in the English version, only in the Welsh. If applicants' forms are scanned and data extracted from them automatically, there is a risk that information will be incorrectly processed or corrupted. For a human reader this is confusing and misleading to say the least. The difference between English and Welsh layout format on the form in effect discriminates against non Welsh speakers. I emailed a report to Electoral Services, and a local city councillor. It'll be interesting to see how long it takes to sort out this little admin embarrassment.

No telly this evening. Too tired to maintain concentration or interest. Even getting to bed early is a time consuming effort.

Digital weeding, mental fatigue

Overcast, cold and damp today. Nine hours in bed, two hours sleep lost. I felt refreshed and clear headed when I got up. The unavoidable soporific light headed impact from taking the meds took longer to affect me however. When the toxic effect did arrive, it stayed for much longer, eight hours despite having plenty of physical energy. I wonder what's different from usual?

After breakfast, I habitually look at my Google news feed scanning for items of interest worth reading. There are ads to ignore, reputable news and opinion sources to check out. In recent months I've noticed an increase in the number of attention grabbing headlines on a range of issues, including science, technology, history and archaeology. The content is a rehash of stuff from other news sites. 

These websites often have odd and lengthy names and links to single issue stories with eye-catching titles based on what Google algorithms decide from your search history you're interested in. Many of them are irrelevant to the home page headline, often the articles are about how celebrities look and behave. 

These are click-bait stories, generating revenue for the site owner, even if you don't continue reading the content once you realise what they are. Several of these attention grabbing sites appear during the week, and I remove them immediately on finding them to hinder sites from loading that are AI generated. An algorithm which spots you've visited one of these sites, will soon start pitching additional links to similar 'interest' stories. These build up and clog your news feed, consuming more time, scanning for articles from credible sources. I make a habit of spotting these dubious website titles and dismiss them as suggestions I'm not interested in. It's like clearing weeds from a pond. Or should I say toxic algae? 

Malware can so easily hide itself in this complex maze of links to sneak on to your computer or phone. Google already makes money by trawling through your search history to build a personal profile for bombarding you with profitable marketing ads. 'Data mining' as it's being called, acquires information of every kind, true or false, honest or deceitful, which AI applications process and come up with 'digital slop' to confuse, waste time and energy, adding to the world's carbon footprint. All this as we reach a tipping point in environmental stability due to global heating.

With my brain working slowly due to the meds, it was an effort to prepare next Wednesday's Morning Prayer text, ready to record and edit, which I eventually did after lunch. Many routine tasks I will do automatically and then forget what I've done. Distracted by other things I lose track, and have to check if I really did them. 

I put tomorrow's twice a day pills in a special box. One at breakfast and one at supper. Checking is easy unless routine meal times are disrupted. I wear my fitbit smart watch on my right wrist but the strap is unpleasant and makes my skin sore if worn too tight or for longer than a day. Perspiration can dry on the strap and irritate the skin if I forget to clean it and sweat a lot. Then I swap the strap to my left wrist to allow the skin to recover, and forget I've done so. I habitually look for the watch on my right wrist, and when I don't see it, I'm surprised and wonder what happened to it before checking my left wrist. My brain  simply doesn't work fast enough to close the gap between noticing and realising what I look at or look for. It's worse when I'm tired and feeling drugged.

It was only drizzling when I set out for a walk at three. Bright light from the sun shining through a gap in the cloud as it neared the horizon illuminated a patch of crocuses in the grass - purple, white and yellow, with a few snowdrops an exquisite sight. My photo didn't do justice to it. Drizzle turned into rain and got heavier driven by violent gusts of wind, making the trees roar unnervingly loud. I got soaked, and had to return home to change trousers shoes and socks. Rain stopped so I went out again as the crescent moon appeared above the horizon, not long after sunset. I walked for another forty minutes until it was completely dark. 

I spent the evening thinking about workarounds for slow memory. It's not as if I completely forget things past or recent like Clare, it just means remembering is a fragmented process. As I've said before, it's like piecing together a jigsaw. That's why I make the effort to write up the day before heading for bed. Tonight, mental fatigue is slowing me down even more. Time to turn in for the night.

Nobody is above the law

Thank heavens, a dry but cold day. Not enough sleep, but I woke up feeling fresh and clear. News of the arrest of ex-prince Andrew on suspicion of 'misconduct in public office' came in at breakfast time. Fallout from his dealings with financier Epstein when he was a UK trade envoy. This follows the recent disgrace of ex-Lord Peter Mandelson following revelations about his dodgy business relations with Epstein. King Charles has made it unequivocally clear that nobody is above the law, not even his own brother.

Trump has launched his self appointed Gaza reconstruction 'Board of Peace' with notable leaders absent from the table, including Britain the EU, France, Germany, Norway and Sweden. Pope Leo was significantly outspoken, stating that reconstruction should be managed by the United Nations, which has been excluded by the Netanyahu government from humanitarian involvement in Palestine. 

After taking the meds, my head clouded over, The usual toxic mist. I had a decent amount of energy to walk for nearly two hours around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields before lunch. I took a few photos of the glorious array of daffodils in roadside grass verges, but the exercise didn't clear my head. I felt sleepy enough after eating to doze in my arm chair for nearly an hour. 

I went out again to Tesco's to buy plant milk and oils for cooking. I recorded the Caribbean Lord's Prayer and sent it to Lucinda. When she got in touch at Christmas, she fondly remembered learning and singing it, at Communion services in Gingins and in the Confirmation class I held for teenagers nearly thirty years ago. 

Losing things

It was overcast when I woke up. I listened to 'Thought for the Day', then posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp. Last night I dropped a pair of specs causing a lens to pop out. As I don't wear them all the time, taking them on and off during the day loosens one of the screws binding the frame. If a tiny screw pops out altogether it's often lost. On this occasion the screw hadn't detached. All I needed was a fine screwdriver to reassemble the frame and tighten it up generally. I have a box of small ones with an assortment of heads bought for DIY work on computer hardware in the last century. They have lived in the same place on a shelf in my study ever since, noticeable in their blue plastic box. I had no idea where they could be in the house. Eventually I found the blue box inside a compartment of a big heavy tool box. 

How they ended up there I have no idea, but after thinking about it for a while, I remembered using one of the tiny screwdrivers to open a voltage testing device to replace its internal battery. I don't completely forget things, but remembering is slow, piecemeal and not infrequently the timeline is jumbled.

Remembering for me nowadays is like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. I mislaid the repaired specs at breakfast time and had no recollection of taking them off when I don't need them, and putting them down by the side of the bread bin. When I hunted for them, I didn't recognise what my eyes must have seen when I searched. Clare spotted them fortunately, rescuing me from a long panic stricken house search.

We went to the Ash Wednesday Eucharist at St Catherine's, and had our foreheads daubed with the sign of the cross using the traditional paste of palm cross ash, water and oil, rather too much oil, which dribbled a bit. The Gospel reading warned against conspicuous piety. I guess we came out feeling more embarrassed than penitent. Those with receding hairlines or long hair tied back were spared messy black fingers from attempting to brush strands of hair out of their fields of vision. Me included. I would be a lot happier if we could make a little ritual after the Blessing and Dismissal where members of the congregation wiped each other's brows clean of ash with a few words about forgiveness and reconciliation. That would express the sacred mystery of being 'members of one another' in sharing God's mercy and compassion.

After coffee in the church hall, I called at the pharmacy to collect the clot dispersal meds ordered on Monday, and then went to the Coop for some yoghurt before heading for home. Jorja our house cleaner is poorly today, so Clare and I did necessary housework after taking a siesta. Meanwhile it rained, spoiling the prospect of a decent afternoon walk. Rather than get soaked, I settled for doing less today. To hell with step targets, sometimes, especially when the meds are giving my brain a hard time and slowing me up. It's when rotten weather with blustery wind makes me feel vulnerable even though I'm steady on my feet. The toxic mist in addition to low light mild visual impairment that cause me to question how keen my senses are. Thankfully no accidents so far.

By supper time my light headedness had cleared enough for me to spend the evening writing a Lenten Ember Day reflection on a difficult passage from Galatians for next Wednesday's Morning Prayer, combining it with a brief summary of the content of the second chapter of the Lent Book 'Receiving Jesus'. I wasn't sure it'd all hang together until I completed it and was pleased with the outcome. 

The passing of a prophet for our age

The air temperature dropped in the night. I had to get up and find a hat to wear in bed to stay warm but I didn't lose much sleep fortunately. It was zero degrees when I got up but no frost just a dry day. Although my head was clear, the morning meds had an unusually strong impact on me, lasting into the afternoon. I  don't know why, but it slowed me down and made concentration hard work to turn an album of photos into a video slideshow of Rhiannon's 21 years. It's her 22nd birthday today. I made her a digital birthday card and recorded a sung greeting from Clare and I as well. 

After lunch I had a call from a medic working with Dr Tom Hughes, asking me questions about the nasty effect the statins are having on me. A lengthy interview, challenging me to describe accurately what I have noticed recently and back in 2007 when I first renounced them because of ill effects. The stroke has made my reaction much more sensitive. The real concern is the combined effect of taking the Losartan as well. After a twenty five minute conversation, I was promised another call next Tuesday to report his findings and propose an alternative statin. Progress!

In the mail, a final account statement from TalkTalk. I was mentally drained to deal with it after talking on the phone for so long, so I put it on one side without opening it. I have yet to deal with Owain's draft letter of complaint about this to OFCOM.

In the news headlines today, the death at 84 was announced of the Reverend Jesse Jackson, one America's great civil rights advocates, and successor of Martin Luther King. An outstanding preacher and evangelist for social justice. His inspirational exhortation "Keep hope alive. Keep hope alive. Keep hope alive!" was the call of a twentieth century prophet. He worked tirelessly on the economic front to open career paths for poor and downtrodden black people. May he rest in peace and rise in glory. 

It's also the anniversary of the martyrdom of Archbishop Janani Luwum today as well, a prophet and a moral and spiritual giant of our age, who in 1977 met a violent end for speaking truth to power under the tyrannical regime in Uganda of Idi Amin

I went out for a walk in Llandaff Fields at three when the after effect of the meds and a lengthy telephone conversation started to wear off. After supper, I found two new crimmies to watch on 'Walter Presents'. A puzzling episode of 'Astrid - Murder in Paris' which I hadn't seen, and a whole new series of 'Indagini de Lolita Lobosco', mixing romantic comedy with arms trafficking and the murder of a secret agent tracking the organised crime gang. All worries set aside for a couple of hours before bed time.