Jewellery shopping

Yet again painful trapped wind in my gut robbed me of a couple of hours of sleep. Both of us got up late for breakfast. We were hardly ready when Clare's flute teacher arrived for a lesson at ten. An overcast and drizzly damp start to the day. Fortunately, the sky cleared. The afternoon was sunny, and the temperature dropped to single figures after dark.

After lunch we went out in search of some earrings to go with the pendant I bought Clare for our 60th wedding anniversary. First we visited a pawnbroker's shop on Cowbridge Road East, with a jewellery display in the window as Clare had seen something of interest in the window, but it turned out on closer examination to be unsuitable. It's the first time in my life that I've been inside a pawnbroker's shop. Then we went to town on the bus and visited half a dozen jewellers without finding what we were looking for. In Castle Arcade there's a shop that sells quartz crystal jewellery with lots of original designs, and that was where a set of simple pendant earrings caught her eye a good match for the neck pendant.

We took a bus back to Cowbridge Road East to call at the hardware store for some mothballs. Sadly two of my short sleeved pullovers have acquired moth holes from being kept un-bagged in a bedroom chest of drawers.

After supper I watched a couple of episodes of an Icelandic crimmie called 'Black Sands' on Walter Presents. A multi layered story, a bit slow moving, but interesting enough to persuade me to stay up late.

The changing face of money

Wind pain in my gut deprived me of an hour's sleep but I slept fairly well apart from that. Kath phoned on her way to work while we were having breakfast. We were delighted to hear that Rhiannon has joined a University theatre group and has been enlisted as a costume designer for a musical production. She has to come up with ideas and supervise others in making the garments. Such a good experience, given that she'll be doing this in future course projects. Rachel messaged us to say that she's booked her home flight for 22nd December staying until New Year's Eve. Kath and Anto are going to Vienna for New Year but will be here with us for Christmas, which we are hosting this year. 

The morning slipped away while I wrote and reflected on current events. Clare made lunch an hour early as she is joining a community choir gathering in the garden of a pub in Grangetown to sing for the funeral of a former member. Apparently a service cannot be held in St John's church as it is being hired as a film location. This extends to Sunday as well. The St John's nine o'clock congregation is asked to meet at St Catherine's for the Eucharist instead. 

I hope members will resist the temptation to think this is the thin end of the wedge. Both congregations together would fill either church, but being 'local' is key to the offer of Anglican Parish worship. Gone are the days when both churches would welcome a thousand people between them to Sunday worship. It's a tenth of that nowadays. Running costs are higher than ever and hard to cover. Even so, occasional funerals and weddings fill each church with hundreds attending, but how much this contributes to all maintaining Parish ministry is anybody's guess. 

Use as a filming location raises income that benefits the struggling finances of a small congregation. St Catherine's church benefits from having a period piece church hall often used in this way, sparing the church building from disruption. St German's was also used for location filming last year. It's argued that appearing in a TV drama showcases the building and attracts movie buffs curious to see inside a building in real life. Maybe so, but does it attract worshippers or inspire long term commitment? 

Fewer churches are open to visitors these days. There's less opportunity for curious folk to enter and explore, to experience the aesthetic of sacred space evoking awe and wonder through its beauty. As an undergraduate St Mary's Tyndall's Park in Bristol was on my walking route home from the chemistry lab. A side door was often open, and a handful of people would be inside doing routine cleaning and polishing, always ready to welcome passers by with a smile and encourage them to look around or pray. It was a capacious Victorian Gothic Anglo-Catholic edifice, dark within, thanks to its array of stained glass windows making good use of blue and red colour. Quite apart from the odour of incense still lingering after Sunday Mass and Benediction, it was for me a new experience of sacred mystery which I grew to delight in. 

Ten years after I graduated, the church was closed, its diminishing congregation could no longer afford to use it. The BBC bought it for storing equipment, props and scenery, but it was subsequently bought by a free evangelical congregation and converted into the Woodlands Centre', a Christian enterprise still alive and active, albeit in a radically different contemporary way to its High Church missionary predecessor.

I went to the Post Office after lunch to send Rachel's birthday present. I was astonished to find there was an import handling charge to pay on top of postage, even though the item wasn't of high value. This drives people to order gifts and have them delivered through Amazon, depersonalizing the nature of the gift. It may be convenient, as digital payment is more convenient than hard cash, but this diminishes the material reality of the exchange. Having said that, I went to Tesco's on my way back to buy olive oil, eggs and a pack of chicken legs to roast, and paid digitally for a second time in half an hour. I still carry cash, but have become dependent on making digital payments. Meanwhile the number of cash machines diminishes. 

I remember when they were introduced in the early seventies. Natwest bank  issued me with an Access credit card. I pre-loaded with sterling and used it to withdraw French Francs during a camping holiday by Lake Annecy. I don't think that was the main intention of the card company at the time as it meant the banking consortium behind Access paying me a tiny sum of interest instead of charging me for borrowing their money. Post Office travel money cards appeared thirty years later. Other companies and banks issued pre-paid money cards for use as a kind of digital currency. In the late nineties Geneva public transport issued a pre-pay travel card called 'CASH'. We didn't bother with this as a monthly season ticket called a 'Carte Orange' was part of my job expenses package. Nowadays this is the name given to a phone SIM card or eSIM for tourists. How things develop over time!

Grim anniversary

A refreshing night's sleep, only awake for an hour out of nine in bed. I'm feeling the benefit of stopping using almond milk, with a clearer head and more energy. I was able to walk to church at a faster pace and arrive just in time, having started out too late for a leisurely walk. Chilly, damp and overcast this morning. There were eight of us at the St Catherine's Eucharist. I bought yellow courgettes, French beans, tomatoes and a couple of ripe figs grown in the church garden when we met for coffee and chat after the service.

Clare went to town and bought me a new short sleeved pullover. Two of the four I own have moth holes, one has shrunk to the point of being too tight for me, though I'm slimmer than when I first wore it decades ago. I cooked coley, potatoes and French beans for lunch and we had the delicious figs for dessert. Then I went to Boots to get packs of wound dressings - hopefully for the past time, as the bum wound is almost healed.

It's three years today since the Hamas massacre of 1,200 people with 251 taken hostage at the Nova music festival in Israel triggering the devastating war against the Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip, killing 75,225 citizens and 2046 Israelis. The poison of hatred, retaliation and revenge afflicts the Land of the Holy One, if not the whole world. It has aroused anti-semitic attitudes and attacks against Jewish people and institutions regardless of the fact many Jews are critical of the Netanyahu government and disapprove of how Palestinian people are treated.

Elections are due to take place in Israel in three weeks time. Israel has lost a lot of international support because of the extreme ferocity of the Gaza war and the continued suffering of its Palestinian inhabitants. There's little sign candidates will change Israeli foreign policy or consider the possibility of Palestinian statehood. The outcome of the election could have profound consequences for relationships with Gulf states and the international community. As long as America and Israel remain at war with Iran, Israel is vulnerable to attack and will suffer the same economic consequences as Western countries. Days after Israelis go to the polls the American mid-term elections take place. Trump's popularity has plummeted. Opposition to the war will be influential in how people vote. How will each of these elections influence the other?

I find it difficult reading the Psalms at worship when so many sentiments are voiced asking for divine help to subjugate, expel enemies  or destroy them. Some Jews and Christians may interpret this metaphorically as spiritual combat against the evil within ourselves, but others take it literally and use scripture to justify ill-will and violence against others rather than bring it to an end. If only the Gospel of forgiveness and reconciliation was heeded by those locked in everlasting hatred and mortal combat. It's so hard to face up to and endure the pain caused by evil doing to reach a place where people can be a peace with one another.

I had a text message from UHW instructing me to visit an NHS message portal website with an access code to view a message about a General Surgery appointment next month. This follows up from a GP visit when the infection in my buttock scar tissue started. It's healed now, but I'm hoping that I'll be referred for a tissue scan to check if there's any vulnerability remaining. I intend to ask for this, and insist if necessary.

There was nothing of interest I wanted to watch on telly this evening, so I returned to reading Gabriel García Márquez's novel 'El amor en los tiempos de cólera'. My concentration has improved and my head is clear enough to take pleasure reading in Spanish - until I start to get tired and yawn. Then I know it's time for bed.

Intolerance unmasked

Admittedly I did go to bed late last night but lost more sleep from emptying my full bladder five times and waking up early, thinking or was it dreaming about a disposing of a stamp collection which was given to me by the late Mary Setna, an international civil servant and member of the congregation in Geneva when she was downsizing near the end of her life. The intention was that I should use the collection to raise funds for charity. 

I have no knowledge of the world of stamps, but the collection includes French, Swiss and American issues relating to the United Nations. I didn't know how to go about selling in Switzerland, nor when we returned to Wales. They remain packaged the way I received them.  It's been on my to-do list to complete the task for twenty five years. Shame on me. Possibly the collection will be worth more now than when I acquired it. How strange that unfinished business from so long ago should emerge from my unconscious mind. It may be easier now to find out what I needed to know back then, thanks to the wide range of information available on the internet. We'll see.

I swapped almond for soya milk with my breakfast oats, and felt much better as a result - more alert, less sleepy, less fuzzy headed. I wish I'd realised this a year ago, when brain fog and mental fatigue were simply attributed to the stroke. Santander Bank notified me of the need to renew an ISA or have the money revert to a low interest basic account, as happened last month with a savings account - a sort of financial coercion to shift your money around. It's all a bit beyond me how this is meant to work. I went to the bank in town and asked for help. It made sense in the end, and money I don't need to use is now in an ISA that won 't need attention for two years. 

When I looked at my account on-line at home, I could see that a small sum of interest was all that remained in an easy access account, the interest being added after the deposit sum was transferred to another account. I transferred this small sum into my current account, to prove to myself that I can manage online banking. Having said that, finding information about terms and conditions for a variety of possible accounts wasn't immediately obvious to me as a relatively new user. I asked the 'Sandi' bot for help. It delivered the information, but I didn't find the highly structured interface user friendly. It may be as good as it gets, but my mind doesn't work quite like that.

A refund cheque from British Gas Services arrived in the morning mail in response to my complaint about an over enthusiastic insurance contract sign up response back in the summer when Clare contacted them with a maintenance and repair query we then didn't need to pursue. It seems to be for the equivalent of the cancellation fee Clare paid. Something went awry early on, as the system presumed our account was active and sent emails and letters urging us to book a gas service appointment as if we were still clients. I deposited the cheque in my HSBC account at the Post Office after lunch, and sent a message stating that the cheque had been received and banked. Hopefully this brings closure to the affair.

At the end of today I'm surprised at the difference not using almond milk has made to me. Not only a clear head, but feeling calmer, more relaxed. My body doesn't have to work overtime trying to process almond milk, a concentrated form of protein. I feel less stressed because my digestive system is less stressed.

After supper I watched another episode of 'Wisting' to end the day.

Piecing together the past

After a good night's sleep, waking up to an overcast day, I  completed transcribing my 1974 Ulster travel diary to a digital file. The question that lingers is whether this was the first or second spell of locum duty I did in Newcastle County Down? Exchanges with dear friend Frank Dall remind me that he and Barbara visited us there at the time she was taken ill with a brain tumour, and had to be flown back to London to be treated in Guy's hospital. It must have been that year when I conducted the funeral of a well known local butcher who took on apprentices both Catholic and Protestant and was mourned by the whole community. There's no mention of this in the text I've been working on. I have to ask Frank which year it was.

I cooked sardines to go with spuds, runner beans and leek for lunch. Clare baked cookies using dates with ground almonds and banana. They were tasty but my digestion stalled after eating a couple, giving me a throbbing head and in need of half an hour's sleep. Could I be mildly intolerant to almonds? My gut is still not working at full strength after taking dipyridamole capsules for so long. A couple of spoons full of kefir yoghurt sorted out the problem this time at least.

I went to Jason's greengrocer's to buy a heavy load of fresh veggies to last us the week. I started to wonder if my liking for almond milk with my breakfast oats might be linked to the same symptoms and went to the Co-op before supper to buy soya milk to use instead. I spent the rest of the evening watching a couple of episodes of 'After the Flood', a crimmie about environmental crime, rural development, ecological crisis in the farming community, with a background of police corruption. Interestingly topical. But I ended up going to bed later than necessary.

Harvest anniversaries

I had a surprisingly good night's sleep, getting up to empty my bladder fewer times than has been habitual. I wonder if it means my body has eliminated the toxic traces of the medication that irritated my digestive system for such a long time? I certainly felt clear headed with more energy when we set out for church.

Harvest Festival at St Catherine's this morning with a portion of the Harvest altar 'shewbread' (as Charlie Smith used to call it, back in St Paul's days) consecrated for Communion. After the service, a festive glass of bubbly and piece of cake was offered in the church hall to celebrate three golden wedding anniversaries taking place among church congregation members this autumn. I came home carrying a bag of tomatoes and runner beans from the church garden. Clare bought a jar of chutney as well.

We had swordfish steaks for lunch with spinach spuds and carrots. I felt sleepy and light headed after we'd eaten for no apparent reason and dozed for an hour before going out for a walk in Llandaff Fields. It's been overcast all day with a cold wind from the west. I wouldn't be surprised to see most of the leaves turn colour in the next few days instead of just the few that have turned brown or gold and dropped already. Some leaves still hanging are dark green, tinged with brown, scorched by the summer's fierce heat. Photos I take don't really do justice to the rich variety of colour the eye can see.

Yemen's Saudi backed government is counter attacking Iran backed Houthi militia which have seized control of the country's coastline and control access to the Red Sea waterway. The Houtis have also hit and damaged a Saudi oil refinery in Riyad. Iran is attacking marine traffic through the Straight of Hormuz and will only negotiate with America on terms agreed in June's Memorandum of Understanding. Both Trump and the war are increasingly unpopular in the United States. Lack of progress towards peace and the cost to the economy will influence the outcome of the mid-term elections and control of the Senate. No amount of cheer leading from Trump and his associates can make up for their failure to end the war they started. Middle Eastern countries have been hit hard by the escalation of the conflict because of their alliance with the United States. The relationship between Gulf States and America may change significantly as a result.

After supper I watched the latest episode of 'Winter'. I have to wait until Wednesday for the next. That's enough watching for today anyway.

The shadow of inflation

I had quite a good night's sleep. When I got up at nine Clare had been up for an hour unheard and cooking Saturday pancakes for breakfast. I spent the morning writing and reading my news feed. 

American public support for the war against Iran has dropped to 31%, 83% of Americans believe it will drag on for an extended period.G7 nations have agreed to release 100 million barrels of crude oil and diesel from reserves to counter regional oil price shocks. Diesel is £2 a litre in Britain today. The rising cost of transport is going to add to the spiral of inflation, especially the cost of food. It will pressurise the haulage industry to switch to electric powered trucks. The huge cost of investing in new vehicles must happen this decade under the policy of eliminating fossil fuels, but it isn't going to happen quickly. There's a fuel crisis right now. The increased cost of transport reduces the amount of investment available that must be made for the conversion to electric haulage.

Oil is still passing through the Straight of Hormuz defended by American military escort from attacks of increasing intensity, but also by overland pipe line to tankers in the Red Sea. Houthi militias have control of the Yemeni coastline and Bab al Mandab, making maritime oil traffic vulnerable from every angle. Consequently the price of oil is not falling despite attempts to instil confidence in the continuity of supply. The rising cost of living in America and Europe and the cost of waging war are a cause of political anxiety and could lead to social unrest. Will forthcoming elections in Israel and America deliver a damning verdict against warmongering leadership?

We're having second thoughts about a week's holiday in Oxwich Bay, as the journey there is more lengthy and complex taking the train to Gowerton, then an infrequent bus to Killay, and another bus to Oxwich Bay. A taxi from the train station would cost £25-30 each way. It was so easy when we had a car! Where else we can have a holiday using public transport instead of Oxwich is something we need to decide.

We walked up and down Llandaff Fields together after lunch for an hour then returned home for tea. Later I went out again on my own, feeling the need to expend more energy, appreciating the benefit of being clear headed and enjoying autumnal sunshine.

After supper, a couple of episodes of 'Winter' to finish the day.