Keeping patients well informed

It's more like summer when we have blue skies and warm weather day after day, so good to wear less layers of clothing, and have to think about staying cool rather than keeping warm. I woke up at seven thirty and posted today's YouTube link to Morning Prayer on Whats App, and got up just after eight. We were only five for the midweek Eucharist at St John's this morning. When I got back home late after picking up this week's veg bag from Chapter, Clare was waiting for me to take her to UHW again for another surgical procedure on her eye. Fortunately the roads weren't too busy and we arrived only ten minutes late. Not that she had a specific appointment time. The short stay session eye surgeons start work at twelve thirty and patients just have to queue to be treated, in the order they arrive. 

I returned home and ate a portion of chicken and chorizo with rice from the freezer. Yesterday's covid jab  is starting to have an impact on me, albeit much less than the last one. Leaden limbs, odd joint pains etc, and I found driving to the hospital rather stressful. An hour and a half's sleep in the chair improved things, and walking in the park was an effort, but lying low and not walking would have made me feel worse. By the time I reached home just after six, Clare had just returned by taxi from the hospital. Her operation was probably the last of the afternoon.

Basma sent me a succession of voice messages saying how upset she was about the way UHW's brain surgery specialist had dealt with her. After a brain scan to check if her condition was stable after removal of a tumor a couple of years ago, she expected to be called back for a briefing, but nothing happened. She called to inquire about it every day for a month. When she finally received an appointment, and presented herself at UHW, she was surprised to find an interpreter was present for the consultation. The first time this had happened in the course of consultations over several years. She knows the medical vocabulary to speak about her ailment and her English is good enough to communicate satisfactorily. She was told that the scan revealed nothing had changed. 

No news is good news, but this was not communicated to her in writing or in a brief phone call to confirm there was no need to take any action. Waiting to hear in ignorance for a month, her anxiety escalated. Poor communications discipline does nobody any good. On times it can be a matter of life or death. Fortunately, not in this case. She needs another round of surgery to complete repair work on facial muscles and plans to travel to Turkey for this, where the cost of such procedures is a fraction of the cost here, and there's no indefinite waiting list. 

After supper, I watched a couple of episodes of 'The Good Doctor' yet again. Interesting stories and a keen portrayal of relationships between members of a medical team that really does work on making sure that patients and next of kin are properly informed. Then I read 'Sangre Nueva' for an hour before bed.

Covid jab time again

Another lovely sunny day 28C, warm enough to go out without a jacket. Clare's study group arrived after breakfast. I spent the morning recording and editing next Wednesday's Morning Prayer, then we drove to the Scouts Headquarters at the bottom end of Grangetown for our covid booster jabs. I've lost count of the number of covid jabs I've had, but I think it's ten. Our appointments were half an hour apart, but the place wasn't busy and we were both jabbed at the same time. It meant we were home by one. 

I cooked lunch and after we'd eaten made the video slide show to accompany the audio and uploaded it to YouTube. Clare had an eye appointment at UHW at four, so I drove her there and came back for a walk in the park, since we had no idea how long a wait she'd have to be seen. She returned by taxi with the news that she has to return tomorrow lunchtime for another minor surgical procedure. 

I walked for an hour then returned home for a drink and the last piece of my delicious birthday simnel cake. It was six by the time Clare got home. After supper and The Archers, I went out again and walked for half an hour as the sun was setting. Another couple of episodes of 'The Good Doctor', then it time to get ready for bed. 

Spanish blackout

Another bright sunny morning with the temperature rising to 22C. I did my share of the housework after breakfast, then started work on next Wednesday's Morning Prayer until it was time to cook lunch. Lentils and rice today. 

News came in of a major power grid failure in the Iberian Peninsula, affecting Portugal, Spain and some French border regions. Malaga, Madrid, Barcelona airports have been hit hard with flight cancellations. Lisbon airport closed completely. Rail and other public transport networks shut down. Much of the internet off-line. Traffic chaos due to lights not working. It'll take some time to subdue the chaos and then there'll be political fall-out, as there was here in the UK after the Heathrow Airport power outage on 20th March. I immediately messaged Veronica to find out what was happening on the Costa Brava, not expecting a quick reply, as her phone wasn't active. No internet evidently.

I continued writing next week's reflection after lunch, fell asleep for twenty minutes, and was awakened by a phone notification for my eye test. I had just enough time to make the three quarters of an hour walk to the School of Optometry for the appointment. Despite eye drops to dilate my pupils, a clear scan of the right eye was unsuccessful again due to the cataract. I was disappointed to find out there seemed to be no record of a referral for eye surgery from last year's eye test. Something went wrong there, so I'm stuck in a very long NHS queue. The optometrist promised she'd refer me, stating the condition has worsened. She also said that the queue was moving faster now with patients being outsourced to private hospitals. This last happened to me as we were emerging from covid, and one of the five anal surgical procedures took place at the Spire hospital in Pontprennau. Very nice the hospital was too! 

I got home just as Clare was getting ready to leave for choir practice, and had supper listening to the news. Veronica messaged me to say their power and internet access were down for five and a half hours. In cases of such a major power outage I learned, FM radio remains live, providing a channel of public information for all caught up in the crisis. So the government advises people to keep a battery powered FM radio as well as a torch and canned food and water stocks for several days just in case. 

I watched a couple of episodes of 'The good doctor', and then read until it was time for bed.

A fresh voice in the pulpit

A beautifully clear haze free sunny day 18C in the afternoon. We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's where the congregation was half the size it was on Easter Day with people taking a holiday before the schools resume tomorrow. Andrew Sims preached, getting some practice ahead of starting ordination training at St Padarn's in September. He's used to speaking to audiences and has a naturally relaxed style of communication with an audience. His message was full of insight too. A decade ago he offered himself for ordination but was turned down, unjustifiably in my opinion. He concentrated on ministry as a pastoral lay leader in St John's, and will be missed when he has to set aside regular participation in neighbourhood community life in order to gain difference experiences in other Parishes of the diocese.

Andrew asked if I'd give him feedback on his sermon. As it was something I did with students during my spell as a volunteer tutor a decade ago at St Mikes, I went into my file archive and found the evaluation form used back then, a dozen years ago. I daresay something equivalent exists for preaching assessment in the new setup, so hopefully it will offer him a perspective on the likely educational method in use. Doing the feedback form after lunch reminded me of how much the 'auditor' has to listen and reflect in order for the feedback to be of use to the preacher. When I'd completed and sent it, I slept for nearly an hour, then went for a very pleasant walk through Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. 

After supper, I watched another episode of the American medical drama series, and then read my Spanish novel until it was time for bed.

Pope Francis laid to rest

Having got to bed at the right time a good night's sleep, awakening to another cloudy sometimes hazy day. Clare went out early to buy bread rolls and croissants for breakfast for a change. Then a morning watching the funeral of Pope Francis on telly. Rome bathed in bright sunshine under a clear sky, the streets leading to the Vatican as well as St Peter's Square packed with hundreds of thousands of people watching on giant screens, heaven knows how many bishops and clergy dressed in red, the traditional liturgical colour for funerals in the Byzantine tradition I learned later. 

People from all over the world, including heads of state and diplomats gathered to celebrate the life of the much loved 'people's Pope'. The Prince of Wales represented the King, Archbishop Cotterell and Euro-Bishop Robert represented the CofE. Such a huge amount of organisation to enable Communion to be given to so many people. It's something the Vatican and the city of Rome organise superbly.

Although the ritual nature of the occasion was simplified it was truly world embracing and inclusive, with a female American journalist reading the first lesson in English and a Lecter reading the second lesson in Spanish. The Gospel read by a Deacon was in Latin. The 91 year old Dean of the College of Cardinals presided accompanied by an African Cardinal at the Eucharist. I thought he coped very well having to stand for such long periods of time. 

What struck me was the Commendation rite after Communion, first the prayers of the Latin rite and then chanted from the Byzantine Liturgy offered in Greek and Arabic, by the Patriarchs of Eastern churches in Communion with the Pope. It may not be the first time this has occurred, but it has added significance given the persecution of indigenous Christians across the Middle East. Until his death Pope Francis called the parish priest of the Holy Family in Gaza city daily.

After lunch I went for a long walk, mostly down river and back, then a lap of Thompson's Park where for the first time out in the open I caught sight of a green parakeet flying down on the the grass by the main pond to forage a piece of bread intended to feed the ducks. Ducks will eat bread but something that's not part of their natural diet isn't good for them. I can't imagine it does parakeets any good either, as they eat seeds and nuts. I got several good photos including this one:

Owain arrived back in Bristol from his brief excursion to Nerja having enjoyed a few days respite under a blue sky in a much warmer place. Two weeks from today we'll be with Veronica in L'Escala. Looking forward to this greatly.

After supper I uploaded photos, exchanged a few messages, wrote for a while and read a remarkable wise homily by Pope Francis, written when he was in hospital, reflecting on the human encounters that occur between medics and patients. Then I tried out a new American hospital feel-good series called the 'Good doctor' about a youthful autistic savant who trains as a doctor and gains acceptance on his first residency as a surgical team member. It's been praised for its positivity and mix of medical drama and human relationships, but to my mind, it's far too contrived and padded out with excess medical jargon and on screen anatomical diagrams that obscure the action such as it is. And so to bed.

A departure too soon and sudden

Overcast again today. After breakfast, when I checked messages on my phone, I learned that Lynda, one of the Canton Mothers' Union members had just died. When I was at a Lent lunch a few weeks ago she told me that her name would be appearing on the Parish prayer list, as she'd just been diagnosed with cancer. When I saw her husband David at the St John's Eucharist yesterday, he told me that cancer had been found in her lungs and liver. What sort of treatment she'd receive was yet to be decided. Normally she drove him to church, but he'd been picked up by someone else as Lynda wasn't well enough. Then, early this morning the end came quickly for her. Everyone's devastated by the news, but most of all David.

Ashley called to arrange a rendezvous, and I told him about the monthly Friday lunch arranged by the MU in St John's, which Clare and I were going to attend. He decided to come and join us, as he was going to be in Canton to collect a medication prescription before going for his Covid jab. I contacted Ruth, who had shared the sad news on the Parish WhatsApp prayer thread, and offered to say some prayers with the MU members at St John's for Lynda and her family after lunch, then set about preparing them. 

When I got to church lunch was served as usual with about sixteen diners but it was clear people were still trying to take in what had happened. We were about a dozen for the prayers, in front of the Paschal Candle and the MU branch banner. Afterwards Ashley and I sat on a bench in the church garden and chatted  until it was time for time to get a bus to the vaccination centre in Ely. He gave me a bottle of Bourgogne Pinot Noir for a birthday present. A nice surprise.

I returned home after we parted company, then walked in the park for an hour and a half. After supper I watched the final episode of 'You Shall Not Kill'. The story-line was complex enough to follow and made even harder due to the event timing sequence jumping back and forth several featuring different people. No sooner had it been established that a teenager was killed in a crime of passion by an ex-girlfriend who covers it up with the aid of her psychotherapist father who is controlling and abusive in relationships with young women than he is killed by one of his victims, and his murder covered up by dumping his body in a remote forest, by his wife and a female victim. They give themselves an alibi, pretending to be victims of a home invasion in which the murdered psychologist is kidnapped. 

At least, I think that's right. It was so confusing I needed to write the above to see if I'd got the gist of the story, but the whole thing is about four families living ideal bourgeois lives, all of which are riddled by lies. So now you know! 

Then I watched this week's final episode of the second 'Helsinki Murders', which wasn't as confusing as there was one serial perpetrator of a weird sex crime whose psychosis wasn't exposed until he was caught, after living a normal responsible adult life without causing anyone concern. It was an unusual story, in a broader portrait of a policeman living a normal kind of family life (for once) despite the bleak nature of his work as a policeman, and the dark side of life in Finland's capital city. 

Uprooted

Again mostly overcast with sunny breaks but somewhat warmer today. I spent the morning after breakfast writing a reflection for next Wednesday's Morning Prayer then recording and editing it and the Office while Clare made lunch. After we'd eaten, I made the video slideshow and uploaded it to YouTube. Four hours from start to finish, although for some reason it felt as if it took longer.

Keith from church arrived in response to my request for help digging out the Virginia Creeper root I've been unable to shift as I didn't have suitable tools for the job. Keith does a lot of garden tidying work for people. His tools are suitable for jobs he does. He has a bike with a bin shaped trailer attached to carry his tools to and from his allotment if not to work. A few of them, he said, had been retrieved from builders skips. On one occasion he recovered a working electric chainsaw that had been dumped. Among his equipment was a robust looking spade with a point shaped blade. It turned out to be the very thing for penetrating and splitting the tap root, so the job was done within minutes. 

We had tea and biscuits in the garden, and while we were sitting there I noticed the wind had lifted a tile on the lean-to extension roof, sufficiently for it to lodge on the edge of the Velux window frame without damage. It had slipped far enough to raise a couple of the tiles above it. Clare rang a roofer we've used in the past, but he couldn't come until next Wednesday. I found that by leaning out of the study window I was able to reach the slipped tile and push it back into place. It needs securing however, as do several more of the replaced files on the same stretch of roof. Not a job I can do anything about.

It was five by the time I went out and walked for two hours. During the walk, cousin Dianne called and we chatted for two hours. She's read my revised version of grandpa's story incorporating her recollections, and approves of it. That means it's now ready to circulate to family members. I returned home listening to The Archers on my phone. We had supper and then I read 'Sangre Nueva' for a while and another episode of You Shall Not Lie. And then it was time for bed.

Late start

Rain overnight, overcast and cold today. After an uncomfortable night's sleep, I woke up on time to post today's YouTube Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp and got up slowly and made breakfast. I stood in for Fr Sion who's on Easter leave at the Eucharists in St Catherine's and St John's. 

When I arrived at church the gates were open but not the building. I couldn't open up as I'm no longer a key holder. There are several other key holders but none of them were present. A visiting lay reader called Sian from St Asaph Diocese arrived to join five regulars who included Ann and Paul mourning the death of Marlene. The sun put in a brief appearance, so we decided to have an ad lib service of the Word from our mobile phones sitting at a picnic table in the grounds. Just then, Roger and the congregation's other Keith arrived late by car. 

Keith is a key holder as he works as church and hall cleaner and had his keys with him. Once he'd opened up, I prepared the service started nearly half an hour late. As a result, I was almost late for the midday service at St John's, where we were also six of us worshipping. On the way home I collected this week's veggie bag. Clare hadn't yet returned from town, so I cooked a butter bean curry with rice and veg. 

After a demanding morning, I slept soundly in the chair for an hour and a half after lunch. Then a walk in the park for an hour ending with a cup of coffee and a slice of birthday simnel cake. 

After supper another episode of the Spanish drama 'You Shall Not Lie', which is an odd translation of 'Todos Mentiren' its title in Spanish, meaning Everyone Lies. Then I read J J Hernandez's 'Sangre Nueva' for an hour before bed. It's not a crime novel, like the other one of his I read, but the first in a trilogy of fantasy novels called 'The Journey of the Accursed', about a hunter looking for monsters, who rescues a white witch from death by superstitious peasants. She becomes his apprentice in the course of the search for her mother who is her mentor. Both have their supernatural powers, but need the wisdom to discern monsters, whether they be of supernatural or human origin. An interesting theme in the world of fake news and tyrannical leaders claiming to solve the world's crises

Owain in Nerja

Cooler and cloudy today. Clare added a mattress pad to the single bed I normally sleep in, and I had a more comfortable night. I can't recall trying this before. It gets stored away with temporary bedding, for use when we're a full house. Owain got up at three this morning for a taxi to Bristol Airport to take a six o'clock flight to Málaga. He's going to see his friends Jen and Ben, who have settled there to raise their kids. They both work from home and have bought a place to live there. We exchanged messages when he arrived. All had gone as planned. He told me that ALSA buses along the Costas use tap and pay, so there's no longer need to use the booking app unless you need to reserve seats or have mobility issues. It means you can just turn up and board the next bus with free seats. Just like the Cercania train lines into the city.

Housekeeping after breakfast a day later than usual. After exploring the google map of Nerja I established the location of the apartment Owain is staying in, out of curiosity. It's in a Verano Azul branded block a business that derives from a long running series about young people on holiday set in Nerja a dozen years ago. The block is on the main road near the top of the hill that leads down to Burriana Beach, a nice place to swim, which he's keen to do. I made lunch while Clare went out for some exercise, and slept for an hour after we'd eaten, before going for a walk myself.

After supper I watched a new six part Spanish series on Channel 4 Walter Presents called 'You Shall Not Lie', about the lives of families living in an idyllic wealthy coastal town impacted by a scandalous affair between a college teacher and one of her sixth formers. The dialogue is fast and scene switches happen so fast it's hard to keep up with who's who, but I find that I can follow the Spanish with fair understanding. Good practice for our trip to Catalunya in three weeks time. Two episodes was enough, then I read in Spanish for a while before bed. 

Pope Francis goes to glory

Another good comfortable night's sleep with Clare on our double bed, and waking up in bright sunshine. The single bed mattress really does need changing. The death of Pope Francis was announced on the eight o'clock news, half an hour after it happened. A perfectly satisfying end in his eyes I imagine. A return from hospital, Mass and Easter Communion at St Peter's with everyone else offering the liturgy, then giving the Easter blessing from his balcony, and leaving this life the following morning. 

He was such a wonderful pastoral and biblical teacher, emphasising the importance to himself of being first and foremost Bishop and chief pastor of the diocese of Rome as well as head of the world wide Roman Catholic church. He wishes to be buried in Sta Maria Maggiore, effectively the principal church of his diocese, rather than underneath Saint Peter's. What a wonderful transformational, inclusive 12 years of ministry as Pope he's had. Let's hope and pray that another will be chosen to follow the lead into the future he has given.

The others got up individually and we all went out for breakfast in Cafe Brava at ten when it opened. The other cafes in Pontcanna Street were already packed with people out for early brunch. We had muffins sliced with layers of either veggie goodies or in my case bacon and sausage and mushroom. Then Kath drove us to Porthkerry Country Park for a walk on the beach, a drink and cake. I watched a buzzard being harried by a crow. They flew around each other in circles. I had the birds in my camera viewfinder, but the camera shutter wouldn't fire. The auto-focus mechanism seemed confused for no good reason. Then we returned home and parted company. The others have to work tomorrow. We had a full meal at tea- time, leftover lamb cawl for me. Then I went out for an evening walk, and spent the rest of the evening reading another novel by J J Hernandez, 'Sangre Nueva', a birthday present from Kath. I read for too long and that meant heading for bed later than intended.

Astonishing Easter gift

A blessed sunny Easter Day breakfasting and preparing to cook our Easter Feast. Clare and I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were over sixty of us present. We returned home straight after to make the most of family time. Owain arrived just after one, following a frustrating morning of train cancellation, getting off at the wrong stop for a train connection and needing to take a taxi to get him to Bristol Parkway where he was able to catch a Swansea bound train which fortunately for him was running late.

Anto took charge of roasting the shoulder of lamb and Kath cooked the tuna steaks to perfection. We drank a four year old Cote de Nuits Pinot Noir (Owain's birthday present) with the lamb and a Dao Portuguese wine to follow, while Clare and Rhiannon enjoyed a Cardonnay. Apple Crumble to follow, then by special request a Simnel Cake instead of the usual choccy birithday cake.

I was totally surprised and taken aback by Clare's birthday present - she commissioned our friend Fran to paint a traditional Byzantine icon of the Hospitality of Abraham, symbolising the Trinity especially for me, the size of an A3 sheet of paper. It is so beautiful. Fran and Mark came around to deliver it, just as we were eating cake. I was speechless.

It's still a work in progress believe it or not. Fran wants to consult me about the detail in the image. Over the past few years of her journey into iconography from an anthroposophic perspective, we've have several discussion about the layers of meaning in classic icons. It will stay with us for a couple of weeks while they are on holiday, and then be returned for completion. It looks different when viewed in different light conditions, sunshine at different angles, candlelight or artificial light. By bed time we'd decided it could go on the chimney breast above the dining room fireplace, our banqueting table reflecting the archetypal table at which the angelic visitors sit in the icon, pointing beyond themselves to the unseen undivided Trinity. I feel humbled by such a gift, thinking 'Lord I am not worthy that you should come under my roof ...'

When Fran and Mark left, we walked down to Blackweir, enjoying the evening sunshine, then had supper and chatted over a bottle of Primitivo until it was time for bed. Having a belated birthday celebration may have been disruptive of convention, but it gave me such pleasure. I still can't believe I'm so old.

Preparing the feast

I got to bed late and slept well, surfacing at nine as Clare was about to ring the bell to announce breakfast pancakes. Afterwards I spent the morning creating a digital Easter greeting to send to people at home and abroad, and sent them, mostly by WhatsApp, but also Gmail. Clare went out shopping, to buy a joint of lamb to roast for tomorrow's lunch. During the latter weeks of a meat free Lent, I started fancying the taste of lamb with nice glass of a rich red wine. I've been without wine since Epiphany, and haven't missed it, nor meat until recently. Tomorrow the men will eat meat and the women choice tuna steaks for a change. Clare couldn't find the recently opened Oriel Jones butchers shop on Cowbridge Road, so she went to the new Turkish supermarket where there's a halal butcher's counter at the back of the store. So we'll have a joint of roasted halal lamb tomorrow. That's a first!

We had a light lunch to make room for a veggie pasta supper with Kath, Anto and Rhiannon who plan to arrive about eight this evening. Then Ann called to tell me that her mother Marlene died peacefully mid-morning, her earthly journey complete with her daughter and son-in-law by her side. Although she didn't get to die in her own home, she was at home in Llandaff and enjoyed attending the Wednesday Eucharist when she was well enough to do so. Amazing that in her nineties she was still curious about the world and meeting people. She spoke to everyone she recognised in the church hall after the service and her eyes shone with interest. May she rest in peace.

It was my turn to go shopping after lunch as Clare wanted a few cow and goat cheeses and we were out of wine and olives. First a trip to Tesco's and the Turkish supermarket, then a trek to Aldi's for wine, where the choice and price tag is usually with the effort of the walk. The young woman on the checkout sounded like she was Polish. She looked quite serious until I'd loaded my bag and paid, then she looked up, smiled and said 'Happy Easter!' You don't get that from a checkout robot. 

I had to turn down an invitation from Brian the organist at St German's to sing the choir for the Easter Vigil this evening, as I felt I should be here to welcome the family on arrival around eight. In our Ministry Area, there are no Vigil services in the three churches of the old Canton Benefice. St Peter's has one at seven, the Res and St David's are later, but getting to any of them and back late for supper wasn't a choice. So this year, I won't be in church for the kindling of Easter light and proclamation of Christ's resurrection. 

Unusually this year, Eastern Orthodox and Western churches all celebrate Easter this weekend. I wonder if the Russian Orthodox parish congregation that worships in Conway Road Methodist church is keeping the Vigil there late tonight? There's no information on their website. There's an Orthodox night time Vigil and Liturgy advertised at the other Orthodox Parish, over in St Philip's Tremorfa. The Anglican congregation meets at four in the afternoon on a Sunday, giving Saturday night and Sunday morning entirely to the Orthodox. Maybe the two combine for special occasions.

Kath Anto and Rhiannon arrived at eight, and we all sat down to a pasta supper with bottles of Rioja and a Sicilian wine. I caught a glimpse of the live stream proclamation of the resurrection at Llandaff Cathedral's Easter Vigil. Pity the audio was poor and the picture in low light a bit blurry but I was there in spirit, while delighted for for family company at home

Pastoral privilege on Good Friday

A dark overcast cold and rainy day. I thought that I was very slow getting to sleep last night, but my fitbit showed that I had slept about the same length of time as other nights this week. I had a phone call from Ann while I was listening to the news in bed, saying that Marlene her mother's condition had worsened. The nurse who visited early in the morning when asked thought it was time to ask for the last rites. I was there with them an hour later laying hands and anointing her. She's weak and on the edge of consciousness unable to respond but aware of the three of us being with her and praying. The last person I anointed was Linda,home from hospital but fighting an antibiotic resistant bug. That was back in 2022 while I was on locum in Estepona. It's a rare privilege to offer this kind of ministry in a regular pastoral context, few think of calling a priest in a life crisis nowadays. I'm grateful to have had this privilege very occasionally in my life as a pastor.

I went to the Cathedral for the Preaching of the Cross at midday, the Dean Jason giving me new insights into the phrase from Matthew's Gospel 'his blood be upon us and on our children' which has regrettably been wrongly interpreted as blaming Jews for the Messiah's death prompting anti-semitic behaviour. That's because we speak about someone with blood on their hands as being blamed for causing a death. Hebrew religious thinking regards blood as sacred, the bearer of life, not of blame and curse. Before the trial of Jesus, the chief priest expresses the view that it's better for one man to die to save the nation from being seen as a threat to the Romans and provoking its own destruction. Such an expedient kind of bloodshed would be the blessing they wished for. It's self-deceptive, and their very fears are realised some forty years after the death of Jesus when the Temple is destroyed and God's people dispersed across the Empire.

Dean Jason's third address wasn't an address, but a marvellously conceived imagining of the experience of the Roman Centurion at the foot of the cross, brilliantly acted. I wonder if he wrote it himself or found a suitable script to adapt. After a short break, the Liturgy of the Passion followed, assisted by a thirty strong choir, twenty of whom were girl choristers Psalm 22 and the appropriate anthems were beautifully sung, but the outstanding element was a sung rendering of St John's Passion, not in the Gregorian chant version, but a different setting for narrator, solo voices and chorus with the Christus role sung by a trio, two female and one male voices, with ethereal discordant harmonies used with spine tingling effect. It was composed by a contemporary writer David Price, organist and master of choristers at Portsmouth Cathedral. I came away uplifted and invigorated by preaching and the music. Unusual for a Good Friday, I must admit.

Having skipped lunch, we ate at tea time. I cooked hake with brown rice and veg. Then I went to Tesco's to buy some hot cross buns and we each ate one later. I watched last week's episode of Helsinki Crimes and then live streamed this week's, as well, before returning to the Semana Santa live stream of the Malaga processions. It was good to glimpse the Malagueta barrio trona of the descendimiento returning to its base next to the Plaza de Toros, and I went to bed late as a result.

The Holy Triduum begins

Cloudy again today but a bit warmer. Clare took a taxi to UHW for a check on her eye after yesterday's operation. I couldn't face getting up at seven to drive in the rush hour traffic before eight in the morning. After breakfast I watched the YouTube live stream from Malaga of the ceremonial disembarcation of the Spanish legion from the frigate which brought them over from Ceuta to perform their Semana Santa duties escorting the tronas of the cofradia de Mena on their route to the Cathedral and back, later in the day. The batallion is headed by a platoon which performs a choreographic routine as they march, juggling with the weapons in an extraordinarily disciplined way. Hand held cameras on the ground and flying overhead on drones give amazing views not only of the parade, but of the area around Muelle Uno (Quay #1), and the Malagueta Barrio beyond. Places I know well and walked around most days when I was on locum there.

Having had an early notification about flight boarding passes a few days ago, I thought I should get on and go through the check-in routine. For no reason I could think of, I was very nervous about doing this and made a mistake which had to be corrected in any case before moving on. The EasyJet check-in web pages have changed for the better, integrating passport details into the flight information display. I seem to get more fearful of making mistakes I can't rectify as I get older. It makes me less bold and more cautious.

I prepared the veggies for lunch, and when Clare returned she cooked some veggie burgers she bought on her way back from the hospital. When we'd eaten I went down to Cowbridge Road to meet Ashley, whom I haven't seen in the flesh for well over a year. We had a drink in a cafe, then walked to St John's Church and sat on a bench in the south side garden and chatted for an hour before parting company. It was gone tea time when I got home. We had an early supper so we could walk to St Luke's for the Maundy Thursday Eucharist. As we were going down the lane at the end of the street, Clare' arthritic hip started giving her a lot of pain so she decided to turn back, and I went on alone sadly.

There were sixteen of us, four of them singers. Fr Rhys celebrated in reflective mood which was just right. Sadly there was nobody to assist him at the altar with serving or handling the incense, only a lady to assist with the chalice at Communion. I didn't think to offer him my service at the last minute on arrival, as I imagined he'd planned how to make it a solo act, aware of how poorly attended services are at St Luke's these days. It was getting dark on the way home. I took the route back which brought me past Thompson's Park. The gates were open, so I went in and walked around for a while, enjoying peace and quiet among the trees, except when a couple of mallards started chasing each other around the ornamental pond.

When I got home, I watched the Malaga processions live stream for a while, and finished off the last episode of 'Cold Summer', which managed to have a justifiable romantic ending despite terrible goings on in Sicily with mafia assassinations rocking Italy at the time. Bed late.

Prophetic utterance

Thin hazy cloud today with sunshine breaking through occasionally. I posted today's link to Morning Prayer on WhatsApp when I woke up early, and listened to the news while dozing before getting up. In the news, a report that a group of thirty six members of the Board of Jewish Deputies has published an open letter denouncing the Netanyahu government's action of resuming hostilities in Gaza, and the departure from the liberal inclusive social and moral values of the founding fathers of the state of Israel. "What is happening is unbearable, but our Jewish values compel us to stand up and to speak out" says the statement. It's causing contention in the wider Jewish constituency, as many consider British Jews ought not comment on the affairs and policies of another state, but it is a timely prophetic statement.

A good night's sleep, but I found the middle fingers of my right hand numb and tingling. A nerve trapped in my shoulder joint is what causes this if I sleep in an awkward position. It can take hours of varied arm movements for it to return to normal.

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were fourteen of us, one less than last night. I couldn't stay for coffee long afterwards as I had to collect this week's veggie bag and then take Clare to UHW for another surgical procedure on her eye, intended to reduce pressure in the eyeball and slow down her loss of eyesight. Traffic on the return journey was slow moving and heavy as the inside lane next to the WJEC building is closed at the moment by a gas leak investigation. I cooked lunch and left Clare's food to warm on a plate over a pan of water for when she returned from UHW by taxi. 

Our broadband connection went down after lunch. Our domestic network was working normally but the internet connection stopped working, once for half an hour and again later for ten minutes. We get a 4G phone signal in the front room, but mobile reception is as poor now as it was when we moved in fifteen years ago. Our mobile phones rely on wi-fi calling, and this isn't as seamless as it needs to be. Lose your wi-fi when you're in a poor reception spot in the house and your mobile connection can drop as it tries to get a 4G mobile signal in a place where coverage is always poor. Fortunately we have an active landline for the time being, not that we use it much. We keep it because between us we have hundreds of contacts who have to try the landline number if they can't get us on our mobiles or don't use them.

I walked in Llandaff Fields listening to Choral Evensong on iPlayer on my phone. I  spotted a Jay and a long tailed tit in plain sight, but wasn't quick enough to take photos. The wind was cold and stronger this afternoon, so it was a relief to get home. After sup,per I continued watching episodes of 'Cold Summer' and then finished the day with a brief glimpse of Semana Santa in Malaga processions returning to their respective casas cofradias at the end of their recorrido.

Cloudbursts and thunder

Cloudy today, with occasional rain. Clare went to her study group in Penarth after breakfast, and I got to work on next week's Morning Prayer, writing a reflection, recording this and the Office, editing them into one. There was fish pie mix in the fridge for lunch and it inspired me to make a paella which I've not done for a while. I was pleased with the result and so was Clare. 

I continued with making the video slide show after we'd eaten, and it took me longer than I expected, as I needed to find some fresh images to use for an Easter Week video. It was four by the time I uploaded it to YouTube, and went out for a walk. For the first time this year a group of more than a dozen swifts were swirling in the sky over the river. I suspect they may have arrived just in the past few days. A marvellous moving sight to see so many together in one place, despite them being on the endangered red list in Britain after a 60% species loss in the past 25 years. Just as I spotted them, light rainfall started. As I headed for home it turned into a downpour accompanied by thunder and lightning which soaked my top jacket. 

Then, an early supper, so that I could go to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. It was a sung service with eight in the choir and seven in the congregation. Not what I'd prefer, and evidently not what the remainder of the congregation were willing to turn out for. There was a said Eucharist at St David's Caerau, but that would have taken another hour out of the evening in order to attend. While we were in church there was another downpour, then it rained all the way home, and another top jacket and my trousers got soaked through.

Once I'd changed into a dry pair of trousers, I watched the Semana Santa evening procession live stream from Malaga on my Chromebook for a while. It was raining there earlier today. I was pleased to identify a few familiar streets through which the procession passed with the aid of a map. Then I watched an episode of 'Cold Summer', in which fictional events intersected with the grim reality of an anti-mafia prosecutor in Sicily Giuseppe Falcone, assassinated by those he sought to bring to justice. The original film footage from the news at that time, crafted into the story, with the reaction of Apulian law officers to the news. And that was it, time for bed. How fast the days fly by.

Bari in view once more

Overcast and cold again with the threat of intermittent showers. Terrible news from Gaza at the weekend. The Jerusalem Anglican diocesan Al-Ahli diocesan hospital was bombed again, destroying the A&E and surgical units, the only ones remaining in Gaza where the other hospitals have been destroyed. The Israeli military insists that a Hamas command post was hidden in a hospital building and that patients were being used as a human shield. It's an excuse the Russian military also uses for attacks on civilian targets despite claiming to want a cease-fire.

Although I got to bed early, I slept badly and woke up with a stiff neck and back muscles. Housework as usual after breakfast, then I wrote a long email to Carol, Geoff's widow, sharing my reminiscences of him and some photos taken during a visit he made to us in Monaco. Clare went out grocery shopping and I cooked curried sweetcorn, carrots and cannellini beans for lunch. It worked quite well.

The sun made a brief appearance through the cloud cover when I walked in the park after lunch. I found it hard going today. It took a long time to warm up and overcome the muscle stiffness, but I felt less ancient by the time I reached home at tea time.

After supper, I watched a couple of episodes of 'Cold Summer', the Italian crimmie I found yesterday on 'Walter Presents'. It's set in Bari, like the 'Lolita Lobosco' series, so the general setting is familiar, plus the odd location of particular scenes, but it also gives shows different city locations as well. It's set in the early nineties, when there were still phone boxes in the street, corded landlines and for those who could afford a mobile phone the 2-3 times the size of today's, with tiny screens. I'm not sure that all the public buildings would have looked quite so clean back then, when pollution levels were that much higher, but never mind the visual fiction.

It well portrays the impact of organised crime, not only on victims' families but also on the local police in a place where so many people know each other, as they used to in villages and small towns. 

Spring celebrations

Cloudy for much of the day and as cold as it was a month ago. We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. The Palm Sunday procession took place in church rather than outdoors, which was just as well given the temperature. There were just over forty adults and half a dozen children present.

After lunch, I slept in the chair for an hour. This seems to be the case if I don't get to bed before eleven but I'm not very disciplined about making the effort. Then a walk in Llandaff Fields before going down the woodland path alongside the river Taff and Pontcanna Fields as far as the cricket stadium. It's sad to see so many trees and bushes along the riverside still festooned with pieces of plastic bags and sheets, deposited either by high wind or by flood water. There is one consolation however. 

In a gale last November a large canvas awning from heaven knows where was carried by the wind and dropped on a river back tree riven asunder by the wind. It's been caught in the broken branches at the edge of the water ever since, until last week when it was removed at last. Disentagling the canvas from the branches must have been a risky business, given the position of the tree and its uncertain stability. It's a relief to the eye.

At the  stadium end of the field a huge fiesta was happening, with loud Asian music, food stalls and others promoting Sri Lankan enterprises. There must have been about a hundred cars parked along the edge of the field and a crowd of three to four hundred, playing outdoor party games, animated by a compere. What sort of fiesta was impossible to tell as the banners on the stage were written in Sinhala and/or Tamil script. At home I found out when I googled that in mid April, Sri Lanka celebrates the start of the solar new year. It turns out tomorrow is Vaisakhi, a Punjabi Sikh spring harvest festival, and this weekend is Passover, and it's Holy Week too.

After supper Clare decided to watch an episode of Dr Who on telly. It didn't appeal to me but I watched out of curiosity. It was a waste of time really, all that gobbledegook sci-fi language, endless sequences of noisy fight and flight. I shouldn't have bothered. Once the telly was switched off, I watched the live stream of Semana Santa processions in Malaga with great pleasure, glimpsing familiar streets through which they passed.

Messy park

Cloudy today, but still quite warm. Clare cooked pancakes for breakfast, then a morning of writing before I cooked pasta for lunch. Then I slept in the chair for over an hour, so deeply I wasn't aware of the passage of time. Then I went for a long walk around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. All that  was left of the week's Urdd rugby tournament was pale patches of grass where tents had been pitched, and covers to protect the ground from vehicles and pedestrian over-use - vital if it had rained, but not after a dry month. 

A hired team of event rubbish collectors had done a good job clearing up, but alongside the peripheral footpaths, the usual scattering of cans and drinks bottles to be collected by volunteer litter pickers. I think I binned about a dozen pieces, a plastic bag blown into undergrowth and a new looking plastic storage food box and lid, discarded within metres of a bin. There were several different large Asian family groups and one Spanish enjoying a picnic. Barbecues are forbidden but they happen anyway, Council bye-laws are not enforced. Even when the groups make an effort to clear up after themselves, the volume of disposable plates and containers overwhelms the nearest rubbish bins. The same happens too with takeaway food boxes in the vicinity of Cathedral Road. By mid morning on Mondays the Council's rubbish team are out collecting, but by Sunday evening in fine weather the parks often look a mess. Council budget cuts rule out Sunday overtime. If only park users would all take their rubbish home with them and not make extra work for others.

After supper I watched the final couple of episodes of 'De Dag'. It was consistently surprising throughout its twelve episodes, by portraying the events unfolding from the perspective of the law enforcement team and hostage negotiators on the one side, and then from the perpetrators and their victims on the other. What was really interesting was the negotiators' methodical, you could say clinical care in establishing the facts behind each statement made by the perpetrators. There's a villainess in the story who poses as victim to achieve her evil aims. She gets away with it by deceiving and inciting others to kill on her behalf and nearly gets away with it. The bank robbery loot ends up in the hands of the wife of one of her victims whose husband has been murdered. It's dark stuff. It portrays police teamwork at its best, in contrast to the criminals' clever deceptive plans and often quick thinking tactics which founder on their own egotism and unforeseen chance occurrences destabilising their aim. A good compelling watch all round.

Palm Sunday tomorrow. Holy Week on the receiving end, with no services to take or preaching to prepare for. An unfamiliar experience. I wonder how it's going to affect me. Preaching the faith that has sustained me all my adult life has enabled my understanding and love for God to grow. What happens if I don't? I am about to find out. 

Four score years

Another lovely sunny day for my eightieth birthday with the temperature rising above 20C. Chief Rabbi Ephrem Murvis spoke about the importance of the Passover meal, and the traditional story telling question and answer dialogue, as essential as the ancient menu. At the end he threw in an insightful anecdote from his own childhood, in which he said that when he returned from school has mother would ask him not what new things he had learned that day, but what questions he had thought to ask. I really like that.

Cards and digital greetings arrived from the family and even a couple of friends made in Spain. A message from the Archdeacon so say that when we go to visit niece Veronica in a month's time, I can celebrate the Eucharist with the Costa Brava chaplaincy congregation in an ancient village church in Madremanya, not far from Girona. 

After breakfast, a quick visit to Beanfreaks to fetch a heavy item Clare had ordered, then a bus into town to attend the noon Eucharist at St John's City Parish Church. I have such a lot to thank God for, it's something I really wanted to do today. The Friday Eucharist at the Cathedral is at 8.00am, too early for me to manage. None of the churches in West Cardiff Ministry Area offer a Friday Eucharist any longer. Five of the six offer only a weekday Eucharist. Sitting in the sunlit chancel of St John's, receiving instead of offering as I did for eight and a half years before retirement, was balm to the soul. 

There were ten of us, there, and a few more sitting quietly out in the nave, observing or praying. Friday attendance was much the same as it was fifteen years ago. There was one lady in her eighties whose face looked familiar, but the other faces had changed, most of them dead now. After the service she recognised me from those days. I last met Sarah the Vicar was at her licensing six years ago. Her recollection was hazier, given the throughput of worshippers and visitors. Then Ruth, former church warden arrived and we recognised each other, more because she used to be a volunteer steward at the opera. St John's is in good hands and as alive and well today as it ever was.

Since covid, Masses have become less frequent and confined to Sundays and Wednesdays. It's a matter of decline in attendance leading to decline in demand for weekday worship on top of clergy shortage, sad to say. For me it's a disruption to the rule of life I have followed for most of my life, like others of my generation striving to take Christian discipleship seriously. Influenced by monastic spirituality from early days, and belonging to the Anglican tradition whose origins owe much to monasticism, This has given special value to frequenting a local place of worship, making it a spiritual home. It's become rare for a Parish Church to be open daily, unless it's a tourism destination like St John's or the Cathedral. 

Religious discourse these days often speaks of 'the spiritual journey'. Pilgrimages of various kinds enjoy renewed interest, well and good. But what about dwelling on home ground? A legacy of the monastic vow of stability. Having to commute to a place of worship away from the district you inhabit demands time and effort, limiting what else you can do from home. The disruptive experience of change can leave you feeling like a stranger in your own house. I've maintained an interest in scientific and social innovation and change throughout my adult life, but the church's varied reactions to change are hard to grasp. Differences in conservative and liberal opinion dividing not uniting churches, the struggle to maintain dialogue and collaboration. Inability to be really open and honest about failure and betrayal and provide a healing remedy is a stumbling block to spiritual seekers. Can God's people muddle their way through the mess to a place in which Christian community and the Gospel message regain the right to speak of the One they strive to worship in spirit and in truth? Time will tell.

I took the 18 bus along Cowbridge Road East to the other St John's Parish Church (St John the Evangelist) for the last Lent lunch, calling in at Tesco's for food bank offerings on my way there. There were sixteen of us there, and during the meal I was presented with a birthday card signed by all the regulars at the meal. I had begged them not to make a fuss, as I wished to postpone celebration until Easter Day, but this was a lovely and discreet gesture. How kind!

Clare joined me there for lunch, and we went home together. I walked in the sunshine around Llandaff Fields until tea time, then we decided to take the bus to attend a baroque concert in the 'Res'. An octet of string players plus harpsichord, flute and recorder soloists, involved with the church's music educational initiative 'Making Music and Changing lives' playing music by Corelli, Vivaldi and Bach. A perfectly sized ensemble for the church acoustic. Just fifty minutes of delightful music to savour, such a treat. It was annoying that we reached the bus stop to take us there as a number 18 was approaching and it sailed past us. A number 17 turned up five minutes later which took us there, but its route is less direct, so we arrived three minutes after the concert started. Then the 18 which was due to return us to Canton afterwards had either left early or didn't run, so we had to wait half an hour for the next. Fortunately it wasn't cold. The sky was clear and the nearly full Passover moon shone down on us while we waited.

When we got home, I watched another episode of 'De Dag' before bed, still coming to terms with being an octogenarian.

Health check

A better night's sleep. Another sunny day, although it started with a thin layer of cloud which dispersed as the temperature rose in the morning. After breakfast a trip to the surgery for a blood pressure check and a blood test. Having heard a nag on the morning's news about getting a prostate checkout, I mentioned this to the nurse and was offered a consultation with the locum GP later in the day. 

Clare went out to an exercise class at lunchtime, so I cooked garlic mushrooms with tomato passata for myself, enough to cover a thick slice of home made bread. It was a delicious snack instead of lunch. We decided to eat in the evening as Owain proposed to eat with us after work. Today he has to report to the office here in Cardiff's Central square, a monthly requirement from those who normally work from home. It's the last time he'll have to do this, as he finishes with the Insolvency Service next week and starts with HMRC on the first of May.

I walked for an hour after lunch as far as the Cathedral, to check service times, then went back to the surgery to see the locum doctor. We had an interesting and useful discussion and he gave me a preliminary internal examination. I'll have another test next week which will determine whether the level of PSA (Prostate specific antigen) in my blood gives cause for concern or not.

Owain was already at home when I arrived. His duty visit ended early, so I found him on his work laptop in the dining room when I arrived, just finishing a query on one of the projects he's completed. We had a salmon soup with veg and added prawns for supper. He brought me a birthday bottle of Pinot Noir from the Cote de Nuits but it won't be opened until my postponed family birthday celebration on Easter Sunday. Having a birthday celebration in Lent, especially Passiontide, never feels right to me. He left at half past seven for a train back to Bristol. I spent the rest of the evening watching more episodes of 'De Dag', so full of unexpected twists and turns/

Costly conditions

The glorious weather continues. Despite the sunshine we both slept late, and posted the Whatsapp link to Morning Prayer at eight. The doorbell rang just after. It was our monthly fish order delivery from Ashtons. After breakfast, I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were eight of us for the service and coffee afterwards, and I collected this week's veggie bag on the way home and found Clare was already cooking some pieces of fish which arrived earlier.

She spent a frustrating amount of time the day before yesterday and again this morning trying to buy travel insurance to cover us on our river cruise in August. Extra cover is required for this trip and more extra cover if you have several medical conditions. She had to pay sixty percent more than I did. That's nearly ten percent of the cost of the cruise itself. I don't suppose we'll be able to afford to make this kind of trip again. It's a one-off special in the year we both turn eighty.

After lunch, I completed next week's Morning Prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube, then a walk to Pontcanna Fields to take another look at the Urdd rugby tournament. Eight pitches at a time are occupied by games, a colourful sight when you think there are sixteen teams playing, each with its own design of shirt. When I walked down as far as the cricket stadium I could hear cheers and chanting from within. Apparently an inter-varsity game was being played at the same time.

At home again by five and feeling unusually tired, I decided I didn't have enough energy to go out again and attend the licensing and welcome celebration for Fr Richard Green, the new Vicar of Grangetown. It's not as if anyone was expecting to see me there. Those days are long past. I'm completely out of the clerical social circle these days. C'est la vie. I spent the evening watching episodes of 'De Dag'. It's complex but very good.

Sanatorium park revisited

Lovely sunny weather again all day, not quite warm enough for me to go without a top coat although many people I see on the street are wearing tee shirts and no jacket. Clare's study group came for a session after breakfast. I prepared the slide show for next week's Morning Prayer, then went out for a ten minute walk before getting ready for lunch, a joint effort between Clare and I, involving smoked salmon and spinach, brown rice and steamed root veg. While the latter were cooking, I recorded the Morning Prayer audio until the dinner bell summoned me to serve the food. I recorded the Reflection after we'd eaten.

Today's walk took me to Victoria Park on the way to Sanatorium Park which runs alongside the river Ely. I discovered a footbridge on Cowbridge Road East crossing over the Taff Vale railway line. On the other side of it is a railway bridge that takes you under the main line to Swansea. The bridge leads into what must be the most recently completed section of the housing estate on the site of the old Wiggins Teape paper mill, a site which took decades to decontaminate before it was safe to build houses on. A number of uniformed secondary age children heading past me for home reminded me that Fitzalan High school is half a mile away down-river.

The Ely used to be prone to bursting its banks, but new houses have been built a metre or so above the flood defence berm, itself set away from the river by trees and vegetation. The front line of houses look as if they have been built with a garage and utility rooms at street level and accommodation upstairs. The strip of grassland land from berm to riverside vegetation has a cycle path, benches and picnic tables, plus a line of newly planted trees, a pleasant linear park thick vegetation conceals the river, making it impossible for children to fall in. Very sensible design practice for a housing area in a flood plain.

The new park runs for about a quarter of a mile to the point where it enters the existing Sanatorium Park and a woodland area which is being developed over the next decade to include fruit trees, though not, it seems in a orchard, but wild in an endeavour to promote biodiversity. Interesting.

On the way back home from Leckwith ward through Canton, I called in the Coop after phoning Clare to check if we lacked any groceries and bought things she hadn't been able to get when she was out. I cooked garlic mushrooms for supper. Afterwards I watched a couple of episodes of the Belgian hostage drama 'De Dag'. By nature it's a long drawn out affair seen from all sides of those involved, perpetrators and victims, and it's far from a straightforward affair as the story unfolds.

Martins over the Taff

Another sunny blue sky day with the temperature rising to 17C mid afternoon. Housework after breakfast, then cooking a pasta dish with veg and lentils for lunch.

A text message about a top up covid jab arrive for Clare and I, at yet another new venue, the Bay Scouting centre in Grangetown, near where Bama lives. Ashley called after we'd eaten. He has a jab the same day, time snd place as us, but has decided to request a change of venue to sn easier to reach place.

 I walked over to Pontcanna Fields to take a few photos of the Urdd rugby tournament. Outside the spectator area was a notice stating that matches were being live streamed on the Urdd website. 

I walked down to the national sports centre and back up the path beside the river. Much to my surprise and delight I saw a family of four house martins above the river, crossing to and fro in search of insects. It's my first proper sighting of them this year, but they may have arrived a couple of weeks ago as I saw a single bird at a distance but it was too far away to be certain.

After supper, I wrote a reflection for next Wednesday's Morning Prayer, then watched the first episode of a Belgian hostage drama before turning in for the night.

Passiontide insight

Another blue sky sunny day, warming up to 15C in the afternoon. The air is refreshingly clear and I think a little less polluted these days as the number of electric cars and buses increases. We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's with about fifty others, including seven lively noisy young children at the end. Fr Sion spoke about the anointing of Jesus with nard by Mary of Bethany in the week before his crucifixion saying that its scent persisted for days, something I didn't know. That simple thought fired my imagination about it persisting alongside the stench of death at the site of the crucifixion, a reminder of human devotion and love for Jesus in his darkest hour. When I got home I wrote a pair of haiku around this story before lunch.

An act of loving / generosity means more / than its cash value
Nard perfumes the air / where blood sweat and fear persist / on Calvary's hill
(John 12.5)

I took my Olympus OMD-M1 with me on my afternoon walk in Thompson's Park and Llandaff Fields, I haven't used it since before Christmas, as I wanted to master handling the PEN-EPL8 with no viewfinder. The older camera has a viewfinder and is a pleasure to use. I took with me the 40-150 lens I bought a long time ago and haven't used much. It has limitations in its field of view, compared to my other telephoto lens but produces lovely sharp pictures once you take that into account. I got some nice shots of a mistle thrush on the ground, and a few others not so good, of a great tit singing high above me in a pine tree. In the last few days while the two crab apple trees' leaves were emerging, tiny buds swelled up and went pink in colour. A single bud has burst into a white flower. These trees will add to the spectacular blossom display we enjoy in open spaces close to home. How lucky we are!

After supper I read some more of the Marquez novel I'm going through again paying attention to the detail this time. His style seems to me condensed and rich in vocabulary, conversing as narrator with characters he observes and portrays with anecdotal asides, as well as their own words, creating an intimacy with his as the story telling maestro. It's the only book of his that I've read, but am not surprised that he won the Nobel Prize for literature. Now I'm feeling tired, so early to bed.

By bus to Penarth

Blue sky and sunshine all day but the easterly wind was colder. I cooked pancakes for breakfast with garlic mushrooms. Later in the morning, we decided to go to Penarth by public transport. First a bus into town, then a 92 from the bus station to Penarth town centre. We had a tasty hummous and salad lunch in a place run by the Waterloo Gardens teashop chain, then walked through Alexandra Gardens down to the pier. We didn't stay long on the pier as the foreshore wind was strong and chilling in its effect. 

We waited for the 305 bus to Cardiff at the stop opposite. An eight minute wait turned into a twenty minute wait as the bus was late, and not surprisingly. The forty five minute journey back into the city centre took us down to the Marina, around the Sports Village, Grangetown and Mermaid Quay on its way back to the bus station, and that was only half of its circular route apparently. Plenty room for delays from traffic congestion. By train it's just over ten minutes. That's what we'll do next time. We took the 122 Tonypandy bus back as far as Llandaff Fields. On board, a couple of families with a large number of excited young children between them. It was as noisy as a school bus. I think they must have been on an excursion to something special.

After a cup of tea and a slice of cake, I walked in the park for  over an hour. The wind was warmer and not quite as strong inland fortunately. After supper, I finished watching the rest of 'Arctic Circle'. Not only was the mystery solved with a few dramatic twists and turns, but also resolutions of relationships making for a feel-good happy ending. It's the third series under this title. There is a fourth series out there somewhere, but it may be a while before it is broadcast on Channel 4. And now to bed.

Stories to make you think

An overcast start to a day with a warm easterly wind for a change. By lunchtime the sky cleared and the temperature rose to 22C. Wonderful weather.

We went into town mid-morning, taking the 24 bus from the edge of Llandaff Fields. The time displayed on the LCD screen in the bus shelter has not been advanced to summer time. On the new electric bus, the time on the LED screen showing route information was correct, but the LCD temperature and clock screen alongside it was an hour behind. LED screens being much newer, are receiving a signal via a 4G internet connection. Bus shelter LCD displays are part of a wired network separately maintained. The one on the bus, may need manual resetting when someone notices!

We visited the bank and had a drink in John Lewis', then caught a 17 bus from outside the HMRC building as far as Canton crossroads, as we were set on going to the Lent lunch at St John's. I popped into Tesco's and bought this week's food contribution to take to church. Due to a diary clash the lunch had to start at one thirty. There were a dozen of us for a choice of soups, and cake to follow. 

We walked home together. I was feeling like a snooze in the chair before going out for a walk in the park, but Owain called with the news that the paperwork for the formal offer of his new job, due to start in a month's time has finally arrived. He has to formally accept, and separately notify people managing his pay. An outdated convoluted process in the digital era typical of a civil service lethargic about reform.

On Pontcanna fields, a viewing stand with seats for nearly two hundred has been erected for next week's Urdd rugby sevens tournament. Small circles of young people occupied the grass of the football field opposite the tournament site. I was surprised to see a group of bikini clad women among the dozen  enjoying the sun.

I spent the evening watching episodes of two different Finnish crimmies that both happen to be new to Channel 4 Walter presents. One is about young people and gang culture portraying but also explaining for the benefit of older viewers what's happening to adolescents in a society where recreational drugs are commonplace, families are fragmented and parents too busy to give their children the attention they need.  The other is about the impact of a hi-tech' electric car company on a deeply rural area renowned for bad weather, and thus used for testing road worthiness of new products. The portrayal of the company CEO is reminiscent of Elon Musk! 

It's an interesting reflection on what happens when complex sophisticated modern business promising prosperity and development comes face to face with an ancient self sustaining rural way of life. It reminds me of Norwegian series 'Likkeland' telling the story of how the arrival of a Texan oil company transformed a North Sea coastal region where fishing had been the economic mainstay into the state oil production regional capitol over a thirty year period. A good story well told has greater power to catch the attention and imagination of people than any editorial or opinion article in print or podcast. The recent TV drama 'Adolescence' has raised overdue public discussion about young people deprived of family support, in the same way that 'Mr Bates and the Port Office' drama did a couple of years ago.

The futility of force

More blue sky and sunshine today, it really lifts my spirits. I find I don't need to sleep for quite as long and don't suffer as a result. I woke up to bad news all round however.

Hamas continues to declare resistance to Israel's unilateral cease-fire plans, continuing to favour mediated negotiations by Arab League delegates.  Areas of Palestinian land in Gaza are being annexed and occupied as 'security zones', its population forced out. The aid blockade has been going on now for a month and military activity on the ground as well as in the air intensifies. It's ethnic cleansing pure and simple. It's against international law. It's happening with American support. No good can come of this.

Trump's regime is imposing high import tariffs on foreign goods, a move sending shock waves through the global economy. It'll have a negative impact on the USA just as much as every other country, Tariffs on British goods and services are relatively low in comparison with other countries, but it's bound to affect businesses here, and wreck government budget plans that already threaten people on low incomes. If the country was in an economic mess at the start of the new Labour administration, it's worse now, and more unpredictable due to Trump's kind of leadership. 

Economic analysts are highly critical of Trump's policy, saying that has never worked and is damaging. Trying to impose change forcibly never works, but we're now in an era where those in power have abandoned persuasive discourse for political bullying. Despite election promises, we can expect higher taxes and further deterioration of living standards over the next few years, not least because of stagnation in economic growth.

Anyway, after breakfast, I worked on making the video for next week's Morning Prayer, and uploading it to YouTube. Clare started making bread and then went to the shops. By the time she returned the dough had over-risen and urgently needed knocking back and putting in baking tins just as we sat down to lunch, causing us a moment of chaos. Yeast seems to work a bit faster in mild spring weather conditions. After lunch it was my turn to go to the shops with a big rucksack for replacement stocks of different flours and plant milks. Then a walk in the park. Regrettably the sky had clouded over, though it was still 17-18C

Preparation has started for the annual Urdd seven a side rugby tournament for boys and girls teams in Pontcanna Fields next week with several tents erected in cordoned off areas, and covered paths laid out for vehicle access. I remember this event from a previous year, but don't recall such extensive arrangements being made. It's happening from 7th-11th next week, with tournaments for school years 7-13 from all over Wales. Perhaps the event has grown. We'll see.

After supper I found series three of 'Arctic Circle' a Finnish crimmie has appeared on Channel 4 Walter Presents, and spent the evening watching a couple of episodes, and then heading for bed. 

Surreal confirmation 45 years on

Another wonderful clear blue sky sunny day with gusts of chilly wind, but around  15-16 C like yesterday. I posted the YouTube link to today's Morning Prayer just before Thought for the Day, and got up to make breakfast. It took me an hour and a half to get to sleep last night, as I was so tense after my dramatic disorienting day in Derby. After breakfast, I re-visited Google Maps, not for an inquest, but to use street view to locate the snack bar van in Howden's car park Ascot Road Derby, and examine the image patiently from different angles to find the side of the van on which Sarah's kitchen displayed a mobile phone number. Then I was able to send her a thank you text message from her, and received a prompt appreciative response. 

Today's the 45th anniversary of the St Paul's riot. It's also the 45th anniversary of Amanda's confirmation, which was happening in St Agnes while police confronted rioters in streets nearby, so I sent her a message. "It was the most surreal experience I ever had." she replied, having stood after the service in her white dress with others at the top of Badminton Road watching the bank burn. Worse civil disorder has followed on occasions since then, days of rioting in disadvantaged areas of discontented Britain. So little has really changed since then.

I finished Bishop Rowan's fine book before taking it to St Catherine's to lend to Rachel as I expected to see her at the Eucharist with Seb. There were nine of us today. Seb is now crawling and sitting upright like a Buddha, full of playful smiles. Our little midweek congregation ranges in age from nine months to ninety one.

After a drink in the hall, I collected the veggie bag from Chapter, and found Clare cooking tofu burgers and roasting potatoes and root veg for lunch. Still feeling tired from yesterday's excursion, I tried to sleep in the chair but failed to doze off and eventually went walking instead. I spotted a cormorant and an egret, plus a pair of goosanders fishing in the same stretch of river. Maybe it's a spot where elvers are hatching at the moment. The egret opted out of the hunt and flew up to perch on a tree branch instead. I've not seen an egret perching above ground like that since my locum spell in Mojácar in 2017. I heard but couldn't see a green woodpecker in trees above the river's west bank. I saw at close range but couldn't take a photo of a blue tit, and watched a kingfisher speed upriver in a straight line just above the water. Best of all, a couple of photos of a speckled wood butterfly, one of several I spotted flitting about along the edge of the river. Altogether a very interesting walk today.

After the day's football matches, discarded bottles and cans scattered about, needing to be escorted to the nearest bin. I picked up half a dozen and there were more out of reach once both hands were full. I wrote until supper time, and again after supper. Before turning in for the night, I recorded next week's reflection on Boenhoffer's life and anti-nazi witness, linking it to the Passiontide theme of next week's Gospel.

Disoriented in Derby

The necessity of an early start got me in bed by eleven, but I lost an hour's sleep, waking up at six to a blue sky just before dawn. I walked to the station by seven and caught an 18 bus from Cowbridge Road to ease the effort and get me there with extra time to spare. The seven forty five train to Derby left punctually and arrived on time. Going north east, the sun was in my face throughout the journey but not unpleasantly so. The train wasn't full when we left, but filled up completely from Gloucester onwards with students and staff commuting to Birmingham University. Then it filled with another batch of commuters leaving Brum for stations up the line to its Nottingham destination. 

When I emerged from Derby station with the 20min walk to the Cathedral I had Google Maps open on my phone. I still can't work out what went wrong, but when I followed the instructions given it took me in the opposite direction. It gave me names of streets but on half of them no street name signs were visible. A townscape of industrial warehouses and five storey buildings on flat terrain made it impossible to see the Cathedral's 200 foot early sixteenth century tower on a 30 foot rise above the level of the river, at any time while I walked for half an hour. I thought I was following the prompt on the map, but evidently not, despite checking several times as I walked. 

When Google told me eventually that I had forty five minutes to walk, it meant I would arrive after Geoff's funeral had started. There were very few people on my route to ask for directions. I stopped at a refreshments van called Sarah's Kitchen parked on the forecourt of a Howden's kitchen depot to confirm the grim truth. In distress I explained to the lady in charge why I had to be at the Cathedral by noon.

"Can you afford a taxi?" she asked. "I'll call one for you." Kitchen service halted while Sarah and her work mate Ali rang several taxi firms to find one which would be free to pick get me to the Cathedral urgently. After several tries, she looked up, said "Five minutes" smiled and returned to sandwich making. Five minutes later I was on my way for the ten minute drive around the ring road and back into the city centre. After crossing the river Derwent was I able to see the Cathedral tower on the promontory above for the first time. Thankfully, I was half an hour early. Geoff's friends and associates were already arriving. We were well over a hundred in the congregation, with Bishop David Hamid presiding of the Requiem Mass for Geoff, a former colleague and good friend. His eulogy did Geoff justice. The service was beautifully conceived with the Cathedral choir singing the Kontakion for the Departed as part of the Commendatio Animae at the end.

Apart from Bishop David and Judith, former churchwarden of Nerja where Geoff's European chaplaincy ministry started, his wife Carol and his children Becky and Simon, there was nobody there I knew. After I'd greeted them all, I wasn't in the mood for looking at the city centre or trusting myself to wander around town in the extra hour I had before my bargain train ticket determined I should travel on. I returned to the station to get something to eat at the Gregg's snack bar there, looking for and not finding street name signs on the way, asking passers to check I was going in the right direction. 

At least this time the map gave me an overview that made sense but at first sight it was tricky to relate it to what I could see. I thought that routes from city centre to train station would be way-marked adequately. Vehicles yes, but pedestrian signs not as obvious. Cycling signage was fit for purpose and that saved me from taking a wrong turn. I was hungry, thirsty and stressed out by the time I reached the station. Vegan and veggie options were scarce and had to be hunted for on the lower shelves of the display rack. Strange I thought in a city with a strong second and third generation East Asian component of the population, whose kids also eat European fast foods. I got by with a vegetarian sausage roll and a curried veggie pastry slice, waiting more than an hour for the appointed train.

Delays were announced for other trains headed south west. Commuters with more flexible fares than mine piled on to the train after I'd found a seat, filling the aisles to capacity as far as Birmingham, then re-filling for the second leg to Cardiff, despite the number of students getting off at the University stop. I made the wrong choice of seat as I had the setting sun in my eyes all the way to Cardiff. The young man opposite, as well as being tall like me took up floor space between our feet with his travel bag and laptop, reluctant it seems to entrust them to the overhead rack despite the exhortation over the tannoy to do just this. It wasn't a comfortable trip, but I did listen to a couple of episodes of the weekly Archers podcast meanwhile. And there was a 61 bus home within minutes of arriving at Cardiff Central. I walked into the house as tonight's episode of The Archers was starting. 

After a light supper I went out for a short walk at sunset to de-stress myself then went to bed, tired at ten. I'm so used to navigating my way around any new place relying on what I can see in the environment as well as a map, that today's experience was distressing. Not something I want to repeat. On the positive side, I experienced the kindness of two strangers going out of their way to get me to the church on time to say goodbye to a dear friend and fellow pilgrim, from the Halesown where we met, to the Costa del Sol. May he rest in peace.

Eye test

Another sunny day with high cloud making the sky less clear. I got up early, had breakfast at eight, then walked to Thompson's Park and back to get some fresh air and brief exercise, to see what difference it would make to the day, leaving Monday housework chores until I returned. 

I had an hour long phone call with Ashley, which had us both reminiscing about the variety of traders in food and household goods that used come street to street or even door to door when were kids seventy odd years ago. All are now a thing of the past, and in this new millennium have been replaced by online trading and delivery services of quite different nature. Cooked food, groceries, clothes books, and all kinds of electronic gadgets imaginable are now bought without going into a shop and arrive at your home. While we were talking a large bunch of flowers for Clare from the children arrived at the door. The covid lock-down led to a huge expansion of services which existed beforehand but are now available on such a scale that high street shop closures have impacted greatly on the town centre economy.

After lunch, I walked over to the School of Optometry for my annual eye test. The cataract in my right eye hindered the scan of the retina, so I had to book another appointment so the test can be done with the pupil dilated. Still no idea of when I can expect a second cataract operation.

I had an email from cousin Dianne this evening giving a positive verdict on the revisions I made to grandpa's story. That means I can circulate it to family members now.

Clare went out to choir practice at six. After I'd eaten, I set to work on preparing recording next week's Wednesday Morning Prayer. As I'm going to Geoff's funeral in Derby Cathedral tomorrow, I will lose a day's work time, so it's good to get ahead. I now have increasing domestic duties to relieve the pressure on Clare whose hip joint pain has slowed her down significantly.

Bed early tonight, nervous about not waking up at half past six, wondering if I'll have enough time to have breakfast and be out of the house by seven.