A reading day

Cloudy again, but a little warmer today. For a change Clare made waffles for breakfast. I spent most of the morning reading 'Sangre Nueva' Clare went out for a walk and cooked lunch when she returned, roast veg and her own version of savoury borlotti beans. I dozed for half an hour afterwards then walked in Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields for a couple of hours. As I was returning up the riverside path to Blackweir, Clare was walking in the opposite direction towards me. We agreed to continue our courses and meet at the cafe at the campsite on the opposite side of the playing field. Unfortunately we were too late for a drink, so we walked home together for tea and cake.

I continued reading before and after supper for a while and then watched the first episode of series two of a German series 'Krimi aus Passau' entitled 'Dark Rivers' on Channel 4 Walter Presents. It's set in the medieval town of Passau, a Bavarian German city on the border with Austria, much of it built on an island where the rivers Inn and Ilz flow into the Danube. It's a good watch, made more enjoyable by the clarity of the German spoken, much of which I can still follow, though it's decades since I last used it.  Then bed.

Late all day

Still cool cloudy and windy, but it warmed up mid afternoon when the sun put in a brief appearance. If it's not bright and sunny when I wake up, there's no incentive to get up and get going and enjoy the morning, so we get up late and everything else we did was then an hour later than usual. Just as well neither of us had appointments today. 

Clare went into town, and I cooked lunch, anticipating her return an hour late. There was a large piece of frozen coley to cook, so large that it needed immersing in warm water several times to separate the pieces for cooking, and that added an extra half hour to lunch making, which took care of half the lateness. With as much luck as skill, brown rice, veg and fish were perfectly cooked and ready to eat when Clare arrived.

I spent time before cooking listening to and editing birdsong recordings made in L'Escala and here locally. One from our back garden revealed the presence of a chiffchaff and a blackcap in addition to the sounds of robin, thrush, blackbird, sparrow and wood pigeon we're used to hearing. Two small garden birds I didn't know are there. I took a photo of a tiny brightly coloured butterfly and was rather annoyed that the TZ95 autofocus didn't work fast enough, so the picture is blurred. I think it's a skipper or something similar.

After lunch I went into town, walking part of the way and taking a bus going and returning. I wanted to see if the new bus station was still closed, as the local press announced a few days ago that it had been closed, no reason given, buses diverted. It had been reopened, but no report of this had appeared in my news feed. A new Starbucks' cafe has opened in a vacant retail unit beside the Wood Street entrance. I didn't notice this when I was last there. Useful if you have half an hour to wait for the next bus. As ever, the city centre was busy with holiday makers and citizens starting the weekend early. 

I popped into John Lewis' to check what Kindle models they had in stock. Clare's much used Kindle needs charging often now, every couple of days. It's getting on for five years old, so it's not surprising. Likewise my Windows laptop. The most recent Kindle has a charge life of of six weeks, so it's probably time to replace Clare's, so she doesn't need to take a charger with her when she travels. Anyway there's a selection of different models now, and I think it would be best for her to go in a choose one to suit her.

After supper, I went out and walked for half an hour to complete my daily distance, as I felt too stiff and tired to do so when I returned from town. Then I watched this week's new episode of Panda, and the rest of the evening just slipped away imperceptibly

Ascension celebrated

Cool, cloudy with the same westerly wind blowing when I woke up and throughout the day.  Clare had dental checkup soon after breakfast, so I drove her to the Llandaff North surgery and visited the nearby Lidl store to do some useful shopping while I waited for her. We were back home again in under an hour. Among my purchases was a can of Borlotti beans, half of which I used in a savoury veggie dish for lunch. I started work on the video slide show to go with next week's Morning Prayer until it was time to cook. Clare had a dance class at lunchtime, so I planned lunch for an hour later than usual.

When using Libre Office to prepare a jpeg image of a hymn text to use, unusually it proved uncooperative. It simply wouldn't export properly the file created so I had to switch to the equivalent Google app. For no reason I could determine, the OneDrive cloud file synchronisation was switched off. Saving the jpeg to the Desktop wouldn't work unless sync was on. Is Windows 11 interfering with control of my laptop? The are many occasions when I prefer to dump a file on the desktop as part of a work in progress without syncing to the OneDrive. I need to find out if this my workflow choice can be reinstated. I suspect it may be something to do with AI extracting information from my files without my agreement. A bit of detective work is needed here, when I have time. 

After lunch I completed the Morning Prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube, then dozed for three quarters of an hour in the chair, despite having had a decent night's sleep. Then a walk around windy Llandaff Fields to take a photo of the padel court roof covering, now finished. I wonder how the lower four metre high ground level section of the structure will be enclosed - a solid wall? Netting? Thick transparent material? Watching construction work unfold over a period of time is an interest that's stayed with me since the city centre redevelopment took place when I was at St John's, right at the heart of the process every day for three years.

I went alone to the Ascension Day Sung Mass at St Luke's as Clare didn't feel up to walking. There were thirty of us, from Caerau, Glanely, Pentrebane Parishes plus a few from the East Vale Ministry Area, as well as faithful St Luke's members. Sadly I was the only person from Canton churches, as notice of the service only reached WhatsApp yesterday evening. Fr Jesse presided and preached beautifully with an original imaginative exploration of what the mystery of Christ's Ascension means for humankind. After the service food and drink and drink was offered in the north aisle. I chatted a while with several people I know from Ministry Area churches and then returned for a late supper.

Fran and Mark are coming to lunch on Sunday and returning my birthday icon to hang safely on the dining room wall. I started thinking recently about having it blessed, and while I chatted with Jesse it occurred to me to discuss this with him. He's an excellent liturgist, well versed in ancient Christian tradition. As he's now at St Luke's celebrating the Sunday Mass regularly, I asked him if he'd be willing to devise a blessing to accompany the simple ritual of presenting the icon and placing it on the altar with the bread and wine for the Eucharist. And what better occasion to do this than Trinity Sunday? Three Sundays from now.

I had a late supper when I got home, and read for half an hour and then it was time for bed.

Caught off guard

Woke up to another cloudy day, posted the Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp at seven thirty, and dozed for another three quarters of an hour before getting up for breakfast with a painful muscle spasm just below my shoulder blades, which refused to subside for the rest of the morning. I celebrated the mid-week Eucharist at St Catherine's, where there were eight of us, and St John's where there were six of us. As there's no Ascension Day Eucharist in Canton Parish tomorrow, I used the readings for tomorrow at St Catherine's and added the Ascension day collect to the Rogationtide readings prepared for St John's. 

We've almost lost a traditional liturgical observance within the Eastertide season. The slow erosion of a seasonal rhythm of celebration serving as an awkward counter current to the secular calendar driven by pragmatic and economic necessities of modern life saddens me. We have a bank holiday this week, and it's half term. Time out for many. There are many music and cultural festivals, but fewer fiestas related to our religious history and identity. Some Orthodox churches still choose to celebrate festivals according to the Julian calendar on dates that differ from the mainstream secular Gregorian calendar, out of sync with the modern world. It's their way of affirming that times and seasons for worship are something other than that dictated by society, an invitation to stop and think, to be counter-cultural, a buzz-word in theology that's fallen out of fashion in the church's struggle to stay relevant and popular.

While I was giving a short homily at St John's my phone rang and disrupted everything. On one of those rare occasion when I took my phone to the lectern with me to read Rogationtide prayers from it, I set it on 'Do not disturb' rather than flight mode, as I needed the phone to retain an internet connection, in case it lost the necessary prayer text on display, but incoming calls still over-ride this. Later I discovered a short cut setting which prevents ringing and buzzes the phone instead. It's only the second time my phone has gone off while I've been preaching in the past fifteen years. Fortunately the congregation laughed it off with me, and I didn't get upset about it. It's not unusual for congregation members to get caught out by phone noises during a service, even when they've been reminded to switch off, after all.

Lunch was nearly ready by the time I got home, feeling drained from contending with the muscle spasm in my back. After we'd eaten, I lay on the floor with a book under my head for ten minutes, then dozed in the chair for an hour until it was time to walk. The sun came out but it was still quite windy. This has slowed up completion of the fabric roof and wall covering of the padel court framework. It's now 95% finished, but there's a lot more work still to be done. What they do with the spare tonnes of earth excavated to create the court space itself remains to be seen.

After supper, I watched the rest of 'Evilside' in which a sinister role play game clues pointed to a children's home where drugging teenagers in order to control them was usual, and one of the locally respected perpetrators, a caring foster mother, turned out to be a psycho masquerading behind apocalyptic religious piety. A cleverish plot twist in context, but it left the discovery of the original teenage murder victim's body unexplained. So much for unsatisfactory story telling.

Late this evening I received a notification saying that there would be an Ascension Day Eucharist at seven tomorrow night. This wasn't listed in the week's services appearing in the weekly Sway bulletin, nor on the West Cardiff Ministry Area website. Keeping communication about church life and worship up to date and relevant isn't necessarily demanding, but it does require routine discipline, and relies entirely on a two way flow of information between lay and clerical leaders to succeed. I recall how difficult that was when I tried to do the job during the last spell of ministry vacancies. If churches lose interest in sharing information and extending an open invitation to join in worship by every medium generally used; notice board, digital newsletters, email, social media platforms etc; it's not surprising people outside the inner circle of regulars lose interest in church altogether.

Icon finished

It was overcast and raining when I woke up. Although the rain turned into a persistent drizzle for the rest of the day, that gusty wind which has been around for the past week blew intermittently - really miserable. Clare's study group members turned up at ten. When Fran arrived she told us that the icon of the Trinity is not finished. The image is going to appear on the front cover of an Anthroposophical magazine, due out soon, but there's been a problem for the printer producing a suitable colour faithful digital image. It's a tricky business, given the minor variations in the way digital camera sensors record colour and respond to lighting conditions - well beyond my technical competence.

I spent the morning in the front room recording and editing next Wednesday's Morning Prayer and Reflection, and then cooked mackerel for lunch. The drizzle just about stopped, though not the wind so I ventured out quite late for my afternoon walk. I went to the shops to buy a Welsh greeting card for Veronica's birthday then to the Post Office to sign and send it. Then I transferred all the birdsong recordings I've made using the Merlin app from my phone to my Windows laptop, to examine them in detail, amplifying and cleaning up the WAV file, removing the sections with irrelevant sounds, traffic, conversation, wind noise. Well, I made a start on it, and will need to go through the good extracts to identify which birds are which, as the app time and place data isn't attached to the audio.

Clare had supper early, ready to go to her meditation group. I went out again and walked for an hour, at an unusually fast pace for me. I don't why this should be. Normally after a sedentary morning, it's a struggle to regain the spring in my step. I got back in time for the Archers and was about to go out again to complete my daily distance when Clare returned and asked me to go to the Co-op to buy veggie sausages for her lunch tomorrow, which I did. Then I watched more of the weird Finnish murder mystery 'Evilside', until bed time. 

 

Damp bank holiday Monday

Cold, windy and mainly overcast today. I had an uncomfortable, not very relaxed night's sleep and got up late. I turned the exceedingly heavy mattress on which I sleep in the hope that it will make a difference. A new one is needed but I dread having to make a choice without trying it out for several weeks. Removing the old one isn't a task I could manage on my own. Getting it down narrow stairs needs at least two people stronger than I, maybe three. After breakfast, housework. Since last Monday I've had my hair cut short and the hoover hasn't been used on the carpets since then. I did my room first, then extracted all the entangled hair from the roller brush, then did the same for Clare's. Ample justification for changing hairstyle, hardly any from hers compared to mine. I've been shedding far more of my long hair that I realised over the past few years.

I cooked a seafood paella for lunch using the Valencian rice given to me by Veronica when we were in L'Escala, an enjoyable thing to do. It turned out well. The texture of Spanish rice is something I appreciate cooking with. I dozed in the chair after we'd eaten and then went for a walk, calling in at the nearest Coop for tomatoes and olives on the way back. It drizzled intermittently throughout, feeling more like mid-March than the end of May. 

After supper I found a new Finnish crimmie to watch called 'Evilside' - don't know why. It's set in a remote rural fishing village in the Gulf of Bothnia, where a group of teenagers act out a live role playing game, and then one of them gets murdered. These young actors are at the centre of the action, and it's one of them who's artistic and different from the others who becomes a protagonist in finding out whodunit. It's not like the Famous Five kids' story, but an interesting portrayal of bored adolescence in a rural community in which desperate poor fishermen are driven to dumping barrels of toxic waste in an effort to survive. 

Chilly bank holiday weekend

Waking up to sunshine and a strong breeze pushing clouds about. A temperature around 17C led me to swap a light summer jacket for a warmer one for the walk to church. As it's a bank holiday weekend we were three dozen adults and a few rather noisy excited small children for the entire service, as there was no Sunday Club during today's service. The kids are charming and say funny things to each other out loud. It's just as well that our kind of liturgy has both varied content, a set pattern, and a printout of the readings for the day to mitigate the distraction.

The death of Alan Yentob, one of the BBC's great cultural entrepreneurs was announced on the lunchtime news, whose forty years of creative input to broadcast programmes has been a formative influence on arts programmes that make people reflect on the world, as well as some of our best comedy series. He was the son of a refugee family of Jews from Iraq, a remarkable minority expatriate colony which remained in the country after the Babylonian exile some 2,500 years ago, with cultural diversity in its DNA.

After lunch I slept in the chair for an hour and a half, despite having slept long and well last night. Clare went out to the Welsh language Eucharist at four and then I went for a walk. I spent the evening reading several chapters of 'Sangre Nueva' and succeeded in getting to be half an hour early for once.

Pancakes

Cooler and cloudy today, with occasional gusty wind and light showers. A better night's sleep, but I still feel like I'm playing catch-up on refreshing rest. I woke up at seven to listen to the news, then dozed and slept until eight thirty. 

I agreed to make the breakfast pancakes and Clare left her file of recipes on the kitchen table to inform me in making vegan pancake batter - basically white flour, almond milk and oil - with enough ingredients for four. I didn't notice a faintly inscribed instruction to make half the amount for two. It's surprising how much more time it took making six extra thick chapati like pancakes, but they turned out satisfactorily. It was gone ten by the time we ate. If the mixture had been a little more diluted I suppose there could have been eight or nine slightly thinner pancakes. As it was, we had three spare after eating our fill. Clare said she forgot to mention using spelt flour, assumed but not mentioned in her hand-written recipe, it seems any plain flour will do, with any plant milk. Cooking to perfection requires minor adjustments to each different mixture. The first in any batch is always an experiment.

Later on, as we were out of plant milks so I went to Tesco's and bought four different ones and some fruit. Clare was cooking a veggie pasta dish for lunch by the time I got back. When we'd eaten I started work on Morning Prayer for Wednesday in Ascensiontide and drafted a reflection. Then I went for a walk. Strong gusts of wind made it quite cold, and stiff legs made it quite an effort so I returned home for a respite until I felt ready to walk the last mile. I sat and watched the last two episodes of 'Memento Mori' which sprang a few surprises as more became known about the killer's background, or is it killers' background for the presence of identical twins is revealed. 

It's not entirely clear whether there's one evil twin and one normal, or two evil twins. A corrupt cop who had fixed the illegal adoption of one of them and blackmails the adoptive parents and then their child years later is murdered by one of them, but which one? Several people want to see them dead, but both twins escape at the end, of what turns out to be series one. There's another series that's been broadcast in Spain but not reviewed. It seems I'm not the only viewer to find the first series ending confusing - a smoke screen to conceal an impending second series. 

For supper I had a portion of laver bread with a reheated pancake. The combination and taste and texture was delicious, to be remembered for another occasion, perhaps with the addition of some small pieces of fried bacon. Afterwards I completed my walk for the day with a spring in my step, legs no longer feeling stiff and leaden. Then I watched this week's episode of 'Panda' and headed for bed.

Experience denied

Waking up to hazy sunshine and clouds driven by the wind. In the news I was struck by a report about the situation in Gaza where emergency aid is slowly moving into the territory. The UN Aid coordinator admits that his remarks a few days ago about 14,000 infants in Gaza being in danger of dying of famine applied in the long term if aid supplies weren't rapidly increased. Whatever he actually said was reported as 'soon' as opposed maybe to 'sooner or later'. Was that an error of anxious communication on his part or indignant reporting on the part of the media? 

Only a third of the aid lorries allowed in a situation where thousands needed to deliver aid urgently. Some are being looted by gunmen already. UN emergency aid response experts say the only way to address this issue is for supplies to overwhelm demand, minimising the $400k value of each truckload that makes them of interest to criminals and worth fighting over. The Israeli government has its own idea, commissioning private companies to replace UN aid logistics experts. Will experience and logic prevail over the logic of fanatics in government? We'll see.

Some Gazans will die of starvation this week in any case, while others will be killed in the Israeli army's continued assault on Hamas fighters. Public indignation against Netanyahu's policy in Israel is mounting by the day. Britain, France and Canada's condemnations have been met with an angry aggressive insulting reaction from Netanyahu against countries Israel considers allies. The emotion with which he lashes might lead you to think he was in a bunker under direct physical assault, rather than in behind a safe government cordon somewhere in Israel. It's not so easy however for him to brush off severe criticism from Jews in the diaspora as well as in Israel. With diplomatic talks happening behind the scenes it's impossible to envisage how close a release of hostages may be. All the world can do is watch and pray.

After breakfast I went to the King's Road pharmacy to collect my quarterly prescription, and was sad to learn that Lindsey our local community pharmacist is moving on to a job in Abertillery, as the company employing her wants to keep her freelance and isn't going to give her a permanent contract. This is such a loss to our locality. I wonder who will replace her at the end of this month, and for how long? 

My afternoon walk in Llandaff Fields after lunch and a snooze took me to see if work on enclosing the Padel court was finished. The roof yes, but not the walls. I was physically tired again today and curtailed my walk, and after supper went to Thompson's Park to complete my daily quota. 

Then I watched a couple of episodes of 'Memento Mori'. Its story is very dark and horribly violent. The twists and turns in the story have been predictable, and offer little by way of insight apart from that of rivalry and internal politics within the police, albeit this is a minor them cropping up in movies from different European countries. It suggests to me that it's been written more with the intent of shocking consumers than engaging in deep reflection on the perversions of a perpetrator who is also a victim, and the losses of a successful protagonist. I wouldn't have bothered if it wasn't for the opportunity it gives of following dialogue in Spanish. 

What to do next?

Cloudy with occasional sunshine today. I woke up early with a stiff neck from an uncomfortable night's sleep and dozed intermittently listening to the news for the next hour and a half. By lying with my head and shoulders slightly raised while I dozed, stiff shoulders and neck slowly relaxed. Ninety aid trucks cleared to cross the border into Gaza on Monday but it's taken three days for the food and medical supplies to be transferred to Palestinian trucks for distribution. How many children and elderly people have died in the past three days has yet to be determined. Netanyahu has said he's ready to declare a cease-fire in exchange for 

Clare was having trouble getting Chromium Browser to behave as she expected it to on her computer, and asked me to troubleshoot. The Home page button seems to be preset to deliver a Linux Mint version of the Google search bar, which is totally unhelpful disrupting her memorised pattern of interaction. It's possible to set the start page to the familiar Google appearance, but in the end it's better to hide the Home page button to dispose of the annoyance. I had the same hassle when I was configuring my workstation, but soon forget troubleshooting steps when the need to change anything is infrequent.

A fish delivery from Ashton's arrived which took Clare away from her computer so I could sort it out and explain any changes next time she uses it. Then I paid the fishmonger's bill and the water rates bill on-line and then it was midday. In a radio interview with rock star Pete Townshend, he spoke about his career, far more extensive than writing songs and performing with 'The Who'. His creative life has embraced music theatre, opera, ballet and visual art. The Who were innovative ground breaking performers in the evolution of rock music since the seventies. While not averse to live performing his huge collection of songs, at eighty he's looking for new ways to be artistically creative to last him the rest of his life. I've had similar thoughts this past year, but have yet to alight upon something that fires my imagination or suggests a new project. I don't want to spend my final years simply reading Spanish novels watching foreign movies on catch-up, walking in the park and writing stuff few people are likely to read. But no inspiration so far.

Clare prepared lunch then went out for a walk and I took over cooking. I dozed in the chair afterwards and then went for a walk. After a pause of several days, work on roofing the new Padel court in Llandaff Fields spurted ahead today. It's now three quarters finished. Its large aluminium framework is covered with a white water resistant canopy reaching down the sides of the structure to a height of three metres. I imagine there'll be transparent lower walls to make the structure a one large windproof tent. Here's hoping there'll be no high winds before it's complete.

I visited the tree with a hollow branch stump, and saw a blue tit coming and going. My camera detected no evidence of nest building in the hollow, but after hanging around for a while I got another better photo of a blue tit emerging, standing on the edge of the hollow with something white in its mouth. I think it was some kind of larva incubating the rotten wood of hollow.

After supper I found a new Spanish crimmie to watch, set in Valladoid. I found I can follow the dialogue as easily as I can understand French movies, well, at least when it's not spoken too fast, or in an unfamiliar regional accent. This feels like an achievement of sorts. And so to bed.

Forgotten

I woke up at seven fifteen and posted today's Morning Prayer link to What's App, then dozed until I got up at eight. By the time we'd eaten breakfast the rain stopped and the streets quickly dried by the time I was ready to go to the St Catherine's Eucharist. 

Writing the blog every day is an opporunity to reflect on things of inteest and imprance to me. It's also a way of exercising my memory, recalling mundane detail. But sometimes a minor distraction can act like a trip-wire into forgetting. I put my Fitbit on charge while I said the Office, and left home without it due to a non routine call on my atention. It's the first time I've done that in the two years I've worn it.  A full charge lasts less than half now of the three days it originally did. It's the same too with my phone, now two and a half years old, and with my Chromebooks and Windows laptop.

There were eight of us plus baby Sebastian at the service. His mum Rachel sat in the same pew as me, and Seb gave me big grins until he got wriggly and restless. He can stand in a wobbly sort of way, but then he gets frustrated and wants to crawl and haul himself up if he can. He's so keen to get moving. He's very popular with those who come on a Wednesday. Pam was with us today. She finds the Sunday service too long for her now. There we are together, from nine months to ninety years with three of us octogenarians in good repair, enjoying each other's company. We talked about Mike, former actor and theatre critic who died peacefully at home on the weekend, remembering how beautifully he read scripture when he was still well enough to be on the rota.

After coffee and a chat, I collected this week's veggie bag from Chapter. Lunch was ready by the time I got home and strapped on my fitbit and adjusted today's step/distance goals to take into account the three uncounted kilometers already walked, just to make sure my daily exercise quote is consistent. Some days I find the last few kilometers hard work, for no apparent reason, and prefer to make sure to make the effort on the 'use it or lose it' principle applied to mobility.

We had a cottage pie made from a ready made Quorn concoction for lunch. It tasted as if it was made from Bisto gravy to resemble meat I suppose. It gave me dyspepsia and took ages to digest. To be avoided in future. I'd rather make my own sauce to cook with the dehydrated version.

After lunch I made the video slideshow to accompany next week's Morning Prayer, and uploaded it. I needed to update the photo that identifies me at the start of the video now I look different with short hair, but couldn't take a selfie with my phone camera as its screen lens doesn't work properly since the last time I dropped it. Then I remembered the laptop camera. First I had to find out how it works, as I've not used it before and googled to find out how to. 

I walked in Llandaff Fields for an hour and a half, visiting the tree with the hollow stub of a branch, where I spotted a blue tit coming and going, and with patience succeeded in getting a photo of it. It pops in and out of the hollow so rapidly there are many more failures than successes with a hand held camera with a telephoto lens. It's not a very sharp picture as a result, but the bird is recognisable. The first time I noticed small birds frequenting this tree, thought they were nuthatches, similar colouration at a glance, but I was mistaken, as the photo confirms.

After supper I watched the episode of 'Panda' then one of 'The Good Doctor' before heading for bed.

Linux Mint upgrade for Clare

Cloudy but warm today. I slept a bit better, possibly because my head and shoulders lie more comfortably on the pillow without the entanglement of long hair. In the news, a report on the first aid shipments to be allowed into Gaza for ten weeks do include medicines and most importantly some supplies of baby food, though not enough to feed the 14,000 infants likely to die in the next 48 hours, for whom food stocks have now run out. The UN aid coordinator's statement to this effect has fanned the flames of indignation against the continued assault of the Israeli army. Diplomatic pressure and the threat of trade sanctions and weapon supplies is being discussed in Parliament today, likewise the EU.

After breakfast Clare went off to her study group in Penarth. Before she left she was having printer trouble with only one of a two page document, so she asked me to troubleshoot. I couldn't work out why it stalled. Maybe it was an accidental multiple press of the print button when the interface was unresponsive, but in the end, opening and closing the app, restarting the computer and the printer produced the required page. 

A low key notification reminded me that the computer's Linux Mint v20 operating system is coming to the end of its supported life. It has served Clare's laptop well over the past five years, so I decided to install Mint v22, the latest upgrade, which I'm running on my office workstation. First Clare's files needed to be copied to a backup drive. While this was running, I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer. Then the installation, using the default process rather than messing around, and finally copying Clare's files to the new Home directory, and installing a few pieces of useful software, and configuration of the font sizes to make everything more readable. That was something new to learn, although the process is simple and straightforwards. A busy, productive two hours, and then making lunch with sea bass and veg in good time for Clare's return.

We both spent the afternoon food shopping to replenish stocks, with two trips each to Cowbridge Road East. I spent time writing before supper, then went out for a short walk. I read a couple of chapters of 'Sangre Nueva' until bed time.

Losing my pony tail

A cloudy Monday morning. I woke up at first light and dozed uncomfortably for the next couple of hours. Writing Rogationtide prayers after breakfast, then housework. I think it's time to reduce the amount of cleaning required by shortening my shoulder length hair after a five year experiment. No matter how well I look after it I lose some every day, and the hoover rollers need freeing of hair every time we use it, not to mention my jumpers and jackets.

After a two month suspension of emergency aid to Gaza the Israeli government says it's going to resume deliveries of food. No mention of much needed medical supplies. None of the territory's hospitals are able to operate and military action continues relentlessly to destroy Hamas and rescue remaining hostages even though doing so by force is proved unsuccessful. Earlier on Israeli soldiers killed two hostages who freed themselves. All utterly cruel and futile. No matter how large the final Palestinian death toll, the desire for vengeance will persist, whether or not a just settlement is achieved. The conditions for history to repeat itself are sealed by the shedding of innocent blood.

Britain's brexiteers are complaining vociferously about the government's initiative to refine the euro-divorce to make trading conditions and cross border movement easier if possible, and lengthen a fishing quota agreement renewed annually to facilitate planning ahead. All suitably pragmatic, not that it makes a difference to those who complain about encroaching UK sovereignty. In the light of the experience of post brexit life, I can't see that another referendum on the issue would pass. This was confirmed by a recent public opinion poll. Nine years on, brexit has made little difference to most people and increasing people realise it was a mistake. I had no doubt about that nine years ago when it happened. 

The government is adamant that it won't consider re-entering the EU, and no wonder, given how costly those contentious years of negotiation turned out to be. The threat of Russian aggression is pushing all European countries into closer co-operation, and this will influence the process of uniting Europe. What the government is aiming to do is enhance existing partnership ties with Europe without losing sovereignty. Regrettably reluctance to get on with reforming the European Commission back in the day contributed to discontent with the status quo which led to Brexit. Other countries occasionally express similar discontent, so maybe reform will happen eventually, and things will change again for the better.

Today's good news is from Romania, an applicant for EU membership, electing a pro-European president after last year's elections were legally anulled following the uncovering of extensive Russian influence in corrupting the process, backing a pro-Russian anti-EU nationalist candidate, overwhelmingly rejected this time round.

I cooked a prawn and veg risotto for lunch and while Clare had a siesta I walked over to the padel court construction site to inspect the progress made while we were away, and to check on the tree with a hollow branch stump nearby where I glimpsed the nuthatch pair yesterday. I didn't see the birds and there was no sign of nest building. Then we drove to Chris' salon in Rumney for our hairdos. Before saying goodbye to my shoulder length hair, I walked to Tredelerch lake and back while Clare was having her hair done. Chris was satisfied with his handwork on both of us and Clare approved of my neat cut. The roads weren't too congested on the way back, but I had to park away from our street as all the parking spaces were taken. Clare had a quick snack and then went off to choir practice. After I'd eaten, I walked in the park again, then watched an  episode of 'Panda streamed on Channel 4, feeling too tired to do much else and then took myself to bed.

Inauguration day in Rome

Awake just after seven and listening to the Radio 4 'Sunday' programme on this day when Pope Leo's inaugural Mass takes place in St Peter's square with a quarter of a million worshippers expected. Four Anglican Archbishops in attendance, the Archbishop of York representing the CofE. The American Presiding Bishop and the Archbishop of South Africa attending have both been in the news recently for denouncing Trump's action in welcoming a group of South Afrikan Afrikaaner farmers as 'persecuted' refugees having suspended all other refugee programmes. Coincidentally, Elon Musk was born in South Africa, making this morally unjustifiable action resemble a private favour for a loyal mate. Isn't this how dictatorships work?

I was reflecting on our journey to and from Spain last week, and realised that not only on the way through passport control on Friday we were fast tracked because Clare was walking with a stick, but also on the way through, when we were discreetly summoned to an empty baggage scanning conveyor belt, out of the queue with a hundred people waiting. I misread the situation as that of an extra channel being opened due to the length of the queue, as there were two not in use. Discretion on the part of the security staff to avoid 'it's not fair' complaints from the anxious or impatient obliged to wait their turn in line and wanting to know why. It's good to know that disability concerns are given proper attention at departure and arrival.

I went ahead of Clare to shop for our food bank offering at the Co-op on the way to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. She arrived fifteen minutes after the service had started. Not only was she walking slower but had dozed off for a short while after I left. We're both still recovering from the trip and from the intense and exciting experience of yesterday's flamenco concert.

After lunch I sat and wrote for an hour, then snoozed for an hour, before going out for a walk. After supper I spent the evening preparing Wednesday Morning Prayer and Reflection for Rogationtide, finally getting ready for bed a bit earlier than usual, still trying to shake off the tiredness of the past week. 

Andalusia comes to Cardiff

Bright early sunlight woke me up around six and I dozed with the radio on until it was time for Thought for the Day on the radio, having heard the early bird 'Prayer for the Day' equivalent. I cooked pancakes for breakfast, Clare got up feeling worse for wear after our journey home yesterday. I spent the morning until lunchtime going through my Costa Brava photo album and annotating pictures, checking half remembered place names on Google Street view. Then I cooked a curried veg and chick pea dish for lunch and snoozed in the chair for an hour afterwards. Clare booked tickets for the latest Daniel Martinez flamenco concert at RWCMD at tea time so we took our time walking there and back through Bute Park.

The concert was amazing with Martinez on guitar, the two flamenco singers who worked with him on his last visit to Cardiff, and two flamenco dancers, one male and one female, performing a selection of songs and dances from various regions of Andalusia with their own unique performance features. Unfortunately when Martinez spoke we understood little. His accented English wasn't the problem, but rather his soft spoken voice into a microphone which muffled his words. Such a shame. The percussion and guitar sound was well balanced and amplified. The rhythm of the dancers' heels was almost overwhelming on times but the volume varied considerably, showing their mastery of sound dynamics and expressiveness. 

At this gig the electro-acoustic bassist wasn't with them, but the layout of a seat rigged with a microphone implied someone was missing and a passing mention of visa problems. Only eight of the six strong company were performing on stage, also a violinist was absent. But it was a great show. The virtuoso young male dancer is I believe a cousin or nephew of Martinez. The interaction between them all was joyous and sometimes humorous. There was a well deserved standing ovation at the end. What a treat for the day after returning from the other end of Spain where the traditional music and dance is quite different.

After supper we spend nearly a couple of hours chatting with Rachel via Whatsapp. Then it was time for bed, still tired after yesterday's travelling.

VIP treatment

After a broken night's sleep a nosebleed woke me up at a quarter past five, just after first light. Not too serious thankfully. We climbed into the car at a quarter to seven, as the sun emerged gloriously from the horizon at the end of the road outside the house. Veronica uses a phone app called Waze for route planning and reliable information updates, with the phone plugged into the car dashboard to display information. Its performance is very impressive, receiving live info updates from fellow travellers and integrating it into the dashboard info display. 

Being early Friday morning rush hour time, Waze calculated our arrival time as a quarter to nine. It was accurate to within a minute of our arrival at Terminal 2C. It flagged up every radar camera and motorway police surveillance point, and highlighted stretches of slow congested traffic and how long it would take to pass through, all the time recalculating journey time if needs be. Seldom, as its prediction was amazingly accurate. Once you reach the A7 outside Girona it's a straightforward journey south to the Barcelona ring road. The last 35km is a nightmare of complexity as greater Barcelona's population is over 1.6 million, and each suburb is accessible from the ring road.

I was very impressed by pro-active airport staff funnelling us into a queue jumping lane to passport control on arrival last Saturday, and to the security check-in on the return leg. Little was said, just miles and subtle hand waves to guide you. Making vulnerable travellers feel like VIPs is a fine art. I was an accompanying spouse in a clerical shirt! I wear a black shirt and cross for travel as I find it eases or bypasses explanation. On arrival at Bristol we were discreetly diverted through passport control, to a live border force official about 20 years only instead of a robot robot gate, but there was no noticeable fast track on the way out. 

The flight arrived on time and we were out of the arrivals area by a quarter to one, fast than I'd imagined when booking, so I'd booked for a three o'clock coach to Cardiff. The one o'clock coach was still boarding and I made a tentative approach to the driver, aware that re-booking for an earlier coach although possible, involved an additional fee. Our driver just waved us on board, not even bothering to examine our tickets. It's Friday afternoon - he said, I want to get home, and I'm here only because the guy who was meant to be driving didn't turn up for work. He had no intention of doing someone else's journey admin, but willing to get as people to their destinations as had arrived in time for the coach. Admirable pragmatism!

We arrived at Sophia Gardens coach station at a quarter to three, and walked home slowly, through the city's campsite in Pontcanna Fields, where we stopped for a drink and slice of bara brith, Then a stop at the Pontcanna Street Co-op to buy something to make a meal with. Clare fancied fish, I fancied baked beans to spice up with a little chorizo available in the fridge at home. By five we sat down to a late lunch, or was it an early supper? 

I don't know what happened after supper, but I listened to The Archers after we'd eaten and unpacked, and then fell soundly asleep in my armchair and slept the rest of the evening, waking up when it was time to go to bed and get some more sleep.

We had a lovely time in L'Escala, getting to know Veronica and John and enjoying an environment neither of us has experienced before. One thing is certain. Next time we'll make sure to book a flight to Girona. No matter whether flights are very early or late, that 200km airport journey is well worth avoiding. 

Special birthday gift

Up first and cooking porridge before everyone else emerged. Another sunny day with a breeze picking up and blowing away the remaining clouds. We walked into L'Escala town centre for an al fresco breakfast in John and Veronica's favourite Saturday excursion pasteleria, where we had coffee and crispy fresh baked on the premeses bread rolls, mine with tuna, Clare's with goat cheese salad, John's with cheese, while Veronica had a crepe with ham. Several passers by stopped to say hello and chat with her. She's well known here due to her teaching and other social involvements. It was lovely to listen to the conversations whether in Catalan or Spanish. 

We walked around several streets, visited in Rebecca in the shop she works in. I took photos of the main square and 17th century parish church of St Peter built in the Valencian gothic style of 500 years previously. Then Veronica took me to a bookshop to buy me an 80th birthday present - a novel of Gabriel Garcia Marquez 'Love in a time of cholera'. I had a nice chat with a young bookseller, mostly in Spanish. Then we walked back to the house for a late lunch of merluza steaks, sweet potato and french beans washed down with Catalan wine from the Montsant area outside Tarragona.

We spent the afternoon talking at the table about our past lives' origins and influences, skipping the siesta with the intention of getting to be much earlier, as we have to be up at six for the return trip to Barcelona airport, to be certain of being there by nine. Steve, Veronica's brother is a taxi driver, and advised us to err on the side of caution and allow an extra hour for the journey. It will mean a much longer wait after we've gone through security checks, but better safe than sorry.

Then Clare and I walked the same route past the old mill and farm buildings with towers of refuge, enjoying 25C heat with a cooling breeze. There wasn't as much birdsong as yesterday, perhaps the gusts of wind inhibit them from singing. Lots of swallows and swifts together hunting for food at a low level over the grass land. An enchanting sight. I photographed a small bird chirping on an overhead wire which flew away before I could identify it with the Merlin app.  It had a black and white striped head, and a google enquiry revealed it was a stripe headed sparrow - a visitor from North Africa.

A serious effort on the part of all four of us took us to an early bed time after supper, hoping to be out of the house and on the road before seven if possible.

 

Respect in the detail

I didn't sleep nearly as long as I feel I need to, but felt refreshed and ready for the day. Before getting up I prepared a few sentences in Spanish introducing myself and my linguistic learning journey, using Google Translate, for Veronica's U3A Spanish group for English learners, meeting mid morning for a drink in their regular haunt, a cafe overlooking Platja de Riells with its long sandy crescent of a beach and promenade. Individuals in the group were asked to describe an individual object in ten simple sentences for other to identify and name it in Spanish. There were more than an dozen of us. I simply couldn't think of an object, and as a bird of passage thought it would be better to prepare something I could read as well as possible to see if my pronunciation was good enough for other to understand. One way or another it was a fun session with interventions from Veronica about the vocabulary and pronunciation. After the session we went for a long slow walk along the promenade before returning for a visit to Mercadona for food shopping.

Rebecca, Veronica's daughter came over, riding her snazzy two stroke engined scooter, to join us during her lunch/siesta period when the shop she works in shuts for the afternoon. Veronica had started to prepare a Catalan dish of vegetables and beans stewed in a veggie stock with added rice, Rebecca took over the cooking freeing us to chat, switching naturally between English and Spanish, as might happen in any bi-lingual family. It was very good to meet her, the youngest of her children.

After Rebecca returned to work, we went over to the campsite, tucked in woodland behind Platja de Riells on the edge of a small freshwater lake. Here we met Jordi, Veronica's elder son who with his partner Rosa runs a chirunguito on the campsite by day and works as a security guard at the nearby marina by night. We stayed long enough for a coffee and ice cream, then drove out to a neighbouring town called Toroella de Montgri to refill the car's LPG gas tank. It's a dual fuel vehicle with a 1000km range. On our way back we visited the rocky headland of Montgó south side of L'Escala, with its 16th century Martello watchtower from which pirate warnings by beacon fires could be sent across the Golfo de Roses in both directions. 

Set in the side of the cliff just below the headland are several concrete bunkers and gun empacements dating from Civil War times. I went down a steep narrow path  hundred metres and took a few photos of the top of one such installation. There's the rusting iron remains on top of the highest bunker of what had once been a signalling mast with loops for attaching coded flags, visible to passing ships. An unusual remnant of coastal warfare ninety years ago.

We then returned and I uploaded my photos of the day. Then we had a giant mixed salad for supper, with fruit bread and a few glasses of vino tinto de Montsant DO, a Catalan Garntaxa/Garnacha. I walked  alons the main road to the Anchovy and Salt museum for some late night fresh air and exercise to complete a day of mild air, blue sky and sunshine, in marked contrast to yesterday. Veronica told me that in the light of a resurgence of social, linguistic and political interest in the distinct identity of Catalunya, La Escala may now be written in the Catalan way L'Escala. It's a small detail compared to what happened about bi-lingual signage in Wales half a century ago, but a welcome element of respect for differences.

Besalú

We both slept well, a relaxed sleep. I was up first making porridge, the others surfaced a little later and we all sat down and ate slices of Veronica's delicious freshly baked fruit loaf made with spelt flour. Veronica's brother Steven who lives nearby, called in to meet us and we chatted together in the sunshine on the patio until midday. 

Then we drove across country north west 50km to visit the medieval city of Besalú in the foothills of the Pyrenees. I'd never heard of it before, but apparently it was a strategic influential trading centre in ancient times whose political and economic influence reached across the Pyrenees into France. 

We decided to have lunch before walking around and went to a busy restaurant by the visitor centre, where we had a three course menu of the day for €15 each, with drinks £67 for four people. We'd pay that for two of us in Britain. Amazing value and very good food. They were so busy they'd run out of fish and there was no veggie option for Clare, but the chef worked a minor miracle and delivered a plate for her with freshly cooked hake and prawns. I had chicken braised with lemon slices, succulent and tasty. While we were eating there was a very heavy down pour which persisted until our meal was over. It was drizzling when we left to visit the town. The cobbled streets and slopes were too risky for Veronica's electric scooter so they stayed safe and urged us to explore on our own.

The town is set on the north bank of a steep wooded river valley, approached by a very unusual bridge with fortified gate in the middle of its two spans which are set at a slight angle to each other. The cobbled  streets are narrow with four storey houses and there are two large plazas, one of which has arcades in front of the shops making an open air trading space under cover in poor weather. In the larger plaza there is a romanesque abbey church over a thousand years old, simple and austere and beautifully cared for. We visited and I had quite a lengthy chat in Spanish with the lady who welcomed visitors with an information leaflet, and charging one euro to go in an have a look around. After three quarters of an hour in the drizzle, we rejoined Veronica and John in the car park and headed back to L'Escala. As we drove east, the sky cleared and there was no more rain. 

Clare and I then went for a walk past the ancient mill across the road from the house, up a lane into a hamlet with a cluster of well restored ancient farm houses, containing two fortified towers of refuge which inhabitants could resort to when the port nearby as invaded by Berber pirates in 17th and 18th centuries. There were several nightingales singing as we walked along. On the distant north western horizon one of the Pyrenean peaks was still adorned with snow, an amazing sky in the sunset hour, with broken storm clouds lit by rays of light.

We had soup for supper when we returned, and after uploading photos and writing this I was more than ready for bed

Nature walks

I woke up to bright sunshine and mild temperature, with the sound of a hoopoe coming from the trees along the road outside the house is pleasantly relaxing. I've not yet caught up on a full night's sleep, but I'm not suffering from it. The change of environment makes me feel sharp and fully alert. The measured sound of heeled shoes on a paved floor travels from a neighbour's house along concrete beams first thing in the morning. It was reminded of the chaplains terraced house in Nerja where I stayed on four of my five visits there. The walls were very thin. A strange counterpoint to the Hoopoe's call: hoo-hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo-hoo, and so on. I got up and made myself a bowl of porridge before everyone else emerged for breakfast. Then I got out my Chromebook and tried to recall the essentials of the last three days to update my blog.

Mid morning, Clare John and I walked down to the Platja del Rec along the path along the stream, and then along the path behind the dunes as far as the headland overlooking the next bay to the north, where there's a posh looking hotel behind the beach. Again, lots of birdsong, warblers, blackbirds, the occasional tit. Grassy patches on the rocky headland are populated with purple flowers and scarlet poppies, a discreet but attention grabbing splash of colour. Poppies in abundance flourish in grassy waterside patches along our route. We see a teenage girl seated on a bench chatting to a mate on her phone in a mix of Catalan and accented English. It reminded me of bilingual youngsters back home in Wales. She was still there when we returned an hour later!

We passed a Lidl supermarket and I bought packets of fruit and nuts, as I was feeling light headed, as I often seem to, rather than feeling hungry. A few nibbles on the go soon dispel the sensation thankfully. John and Veronica put together a stir fry for lunch with tofu peppers onions and a sauce of lemon honey and tahini. Very tasty, easy to remember and emulate at home. 

After uploading the morning's photos, Clare and I went out for a short walk to find a nearby park with a skate park and playground elements, including a short zip wire for the under twelves. Then we crossed over the road through an underpass giving access to the big Mercadona supermarket and inspected it, out of interest rather than need to buy anything. This and Lidl's not far away are laid out in their own distinct pattern, reproduced in all their new build stores. This predictability makes it easy to plan a shopping trip and navigate the store wherever you find one. It's different if you're having to adapt your retail offer to an existing building so customers have to familiarise themselves with different layouts. No wonder the new generation of retail stores doing so well. Predictably, I spotted a pied wagtail running around the car park outside. Just as they do in the UK.

After taking Clare back to the house I went across the road and along the stream which once fed the mill which supplies the town's flour from the 14th to the 20th century. The building and its mill ponds have been restored and a well kept. It's become a high class gourmet restaurant. A path alongside it leads up to a hamlet of ancient farm buildings, all restored, yet to be explored. There are several nightingales singing on the other side of the river, and swallows flying low to feed on insects near ground level. We also saw scores and swifts foraging 300 metres above us. Just amazing, so many different birds! 

We had a light late supper and managed to get to bed when we usually do, even if Central European time says it's midnight already. As for timings I found both my cameras had different incorrect time settings. As a result photo transfer has been unnecessarily muddled. Why didn't I think of that beforehand.  

Sunday with the Costa Brava Chaplaincy

Thunderstorms and heavy rain during night, but surprisingly, despite ominous clouds amid the sunshine I slept well, but didn't sleep for as long as I usually do. I was up listening to the dawn chorus, so different from home, so many more birds, and such variety. The Merlin app identified eight different birds nearby, including a Golden Oriol, a Cetti's Warbler, a Streaked Fantailed Warbler and a Nightingale as well as Swift, Sparrow, Blackbird and Woodpigeon. I was able to confirm seeing the Nightingale as it sang loudly when perched atop the tallest tree across the road from the house, near enough to see its beak moving!

After breakfast, Veronica drove us inland, across country to the medieval hill village of Madremanya with a fourteenth century parish church next to a small plaza containing the town hall, crowning the hilltop. It's apparently a village well visited by knowledgable tourists, perhaps because it looks so unspoiled with its winding narrow streets and lack of commercial advertising. I didn't notice any shops, but there's likely to be a market. There must have been some shops in former times, but if you live there now a car is essential and shopping is done elsewhere in a retail park of your choice. Like many UK villages it's become a dormitory place, with all mod cons behind the well conserved ancient facade. There's a discreet hotel on the periphery opposite a modern community centre and parking area for residents and visitors. The streets are of necessity pedestrianised, but there's limited access to the plaza by the church.

The congregation come from far and wide by car, and all but the physically disabled walk the last 500 metres to church, like pilgrims. There were two dozen of us, and a few other visitors pop their heads in and take a look when they hear singing. There are occasional services here, but no regular parish Mass as there are too few priests covering a large area. Most church worship and social activity has been by Zoom since covid, with a monthly live gathering at Madremanya. This is the second year of vacancy and thanks to healthy lay leadership, the congregation stays together, and looks forward to the eventual appointment of a house for duty pastor, which is all that can be afforded now. 

The monthly live service has been looked after by a priest who travels from Portugal and stays the weekend. This month it's me. What a privilege, to lead worship in such an ancient and beautiful place. It's acoustic is perfect for unaccompanied singing, but the Anglican congregation use hymns recorded with a choir, sung at an acceptable pace and pitch relayed through a well designed sound system which not only works in situ, but when a Sunday service of the Word is streamed on-line by those who organise it. Later in the day I was sent a YouTube link to the service I had taken. A nice souvenir!

After the service, three quarters of the congregation drove to nearby village of Corça for lunch in a well regarded restaurant on the village plaza by the parish church. I learned the house next to the church was where the previous chaplain had lived. It was large enough to host social events, and several people I spoke to over lunch recalled how well used it was. Anglican services were held on a few occasions next door but Madremanya offered more flexibility without regular services, and itself had history thanks to a few English residents in the village. I heard from several lay people who had been involved in maintaining the worship and social life of the chaplaincy since the beginning 30 years ago, a time when ex-pats in the region involved in construction and development projects in Catalunya began to settle.

Fifty years ago when the number of British and other Europeans settling in Spain began to increase on the southern Costas. Malaga was the only historic chaplaincy in the south outside of Gibraltar. Several new  chaplaincies were founded in the seventies, supported by the Diocese in Europe. In the north, Barcelona was the only historic chaplaincy, British consular based from the mid 19th century, like Malaga. Although the Costa Brava had tourists, there was no impetus start a ministry to settlers. It was natural spontaneous grass roots Christian outreach in the nineties that led to the present chaplaincy beginning in the 1990s. The admirable testimonies of several long standing members present for today's service and lunch speak for themselves. 

It was interesting to listen to a Finnish Lutheran woman speak of her involvement in ministry to children back home, continued when she found a home from home on the Costa Brava. Membership of our chaplaincies is invariable ecumenical and multi-cultural, pioneering the future of church in Europe. We are not alone in this, as Evangelical and Pentecostal outreach ministries have also developed over the decades since, but it's reasonable to say that Anglicans have pioneered pastoral outreach to expats since it first emerged as a priority over and above the established links the state diplomatic institutions.

As we were getting ready to leave Corça, there were rumbles of thunder and a few splashes of rain and the ominous clouds remained for the rest of the day, without bring more rain. Clare and I needed a walk when we got back to L'Escala, so we followed the main road towards the town centre and found nature reserve which is the fruit of restoring water courses taking water down to the bay at Platja del Rec. Again the bird song variety was amazing. A cetti's warbler landed and stopped beside me, but my TZ95 refused to focus on it and I lost the picture. I was luckier with a mallard ducking swimming right next to its mother.

We had supper when we returned, and then load of hassles uploading photos to look at because I didn't bring with me a tiny USB B to C adaptor. Eventually I transferred them to Veronica's Chromebook, she uploaded them, and sent me a sharing link which I could use to download them to my Chromebook, so I can edit them when I get around to it later. It was nearly midnight when we got to bed, but it's still eleven o'clock UK time according to my body clock thankfully. Losing a couple of hours sleep three nights in a row has yet to take its toll on me. Yet.

Journey of discovery

Awake and up at seven on a mild sunny day. Breakfast and then a final travel baggage check before taxi called just after eight to take us to the coach station for a nine o'clock trip to Bristol Airport. Two hours extra early for our flight to Barcelona at three, to avoid risk of delay on the road imposing pressure on us we don't need, and give Clare extra time to walk using stick and handling her flight bag. 

Getting from the departure lounge to the aircraft, I carried both cabin bags, as there are too many sets of stairs to navigate. Cardiff Airport is just as bad for stairs and moving staircases are almost absent. Not good, but the physical workout was encouragingly good for me, and we boarded without incident for the two hour flight.

We landed at Terminal 2C, last visited on returning from Ibiza lockdown. Moderately busy today in contrast to that day in June 2022 when our London bound flight was one of the half dozen to leave that day. When we reached passport control we were ushered to the front of the queue much to my surprise thanks to Clare walking with a stick I think and me accompanying her wearing a clerical shirt! We both got smiles from the stewards as we passed! 

John immediately recognisable from his photo was waiting for us at the arrivals gate. Veronica was waiting in the car outside, in a blue badge parking space, as she's registered disabled now. Meeting and greeting her with a big hug was amazing, as she looks just like my sister June, her birth mother. She drove up up the A7 to their house at L'Escala in the middle of the Costa Brava, a two hour trip. It was only when we were waiting to leave Bristol that I saw flights to Girona had already restarted, three quarters of an hour from home. I was under the mistaken assumption flights there restarted in summer. What a shame I didn't dig deeper when booking. Veronica took us the extra mile down to the town centre to give us a brief preview of the town she's called home for the past forty years before reaching the house and settling us in. 

The land opposite their terrace is verdant agricultural pasture bounded by trees and bushes. The evening bird chorus had started, astonishingly rich, varied and different. After we'd eaten, talking non-stop of course, I went for a walk in the dark and listened to the chorus of tree frogs in the reed beds along water courses that descend to the sea. I managed three quarters of my daily step quota before calling it a day. Amazingly after a week of heavy rain a dry day to travel, but warnings issued of rain and thunder overnight.

Much in need of sleep after an early start with a busy day tomorrow 

Getting ready to fly day

Glorious sunshine again today. I spent the morning writing. Fran came by to collect the icon of the Trinity which Clare had painted for my 80th birthday, and we spent an hour thinking about the details she wishes to work on further before finishing it. It was a delightful discussion, probing into the depth of its meaning and symbolism.

Then I went into town and back on the bus for a quick visit to Mountain Warehouse to buy myself some new black trousers to wear with a black shirt for Sunday duty. Clare cooked lunch while I was out and after we'd eaten I walked in the park, then started packing in earnest. I realised there were other things I forgot to get and had to go out to the shops again to buy. And there was my Sunday sermon to print, and the minimum of necessary cables and chargers to pack. That took up most of the evening, and I got to bed at my usual time, just!

A Pope of the Americas

Blue sky and sunshine today, a little warmer but chilling gusts of wind from the east still persist. I took down my cabin bag from the top of the wardrobe and started adding clothes to it during the day. Clare kindly made sure that my alb was washed and dried ready to pack. Half ready a day earlier than usual! Strange behaviour for me, usually I pack at the last minute, but don't function so well if I'm under pressure nowadays. 

On top of my to-do list before I go away, paying the invoice for the balance of our Duoro cruise, payable three months in advance. Time has flown by since we made the booking. As it's an unusually large sum of money I decided to visit the Santander branch in town, rather than do it on-line, as it would also allow me to notify the bank that I may use my debit card abroad next week. It's not strictly necessary with Santander being Spanish banking group, a one small security precaution, just in case. I got there at ten to twelve and saw there was a notice on the door announcing the national 2 minute silence for VE80 day.  As I queued, wondering if I'd be through before noon, one of the floor staff accosted me and led me to a desk to conduct the transaction separately. It was concluded just as the lights in the branch were lowered to signify the start of the 2 minute silence. Job done, I went straight home on the bus, to find Clare well advanced in cooking lunch.

After we'd eaten I retrieved two ancient biscuit tins from my store of old stuff, full of a century's worth of old photographs and an assortment of birth, marriage and death certificates. Most of the photos I digitized more than a decade ago, so I decided to take a collection of them with me featuring my sister June, from twelve years old to sixty five, to give to her daughter Veronica. 

Then I went for a walk in Llandaff Fields and checked if there'd been any visible progress on erecting the the second section of canopy over the new padel court, but apparently not. While I was walking a message appeared on the Parish WhatsApp prayer group stating that a new Pope had been elected twenty minutes earlier, and he would be named Leo XIV. Amazing surprise - Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost, American by birth, from Chicago, but is now a dual national citizen of Peru, where much of his life was spent as an Augustinian missionary before being called to serve at the Vatican. He's 69 and highly regarded outside of the Roman Curia, seen as a successor to Pope Francis who also emphasises sharing the Gospel with the poor and marginalised. 

The 19th century Pope Leo XIII was a pastor of the modern era who taught about what we think of as the social Gospel. He's clearly the new Pope's exemplar. An interesting co-incidence that his second name is Francis. The monastic rule of St  Augustine is the oldest in the Western Church dating back 1,600 years, and its communities' sense of mission is influenced by mendicant Franciscan spirituality. Let's hope and pray that he'll be as inspirational for the whole world, as well as the churches in his new ministry.

Clare watched the big VE80 day concert, staged on Horseguards Parade after supper. It was an amazing and complex multi-media production of song and dance routines from the war-time era interpreted for a contemporary audience. It was superbly executed, though I wasn't impressed by all of the singers, or the re-rendering of old classics. I wondered what the veterans in the audience thought. Several stories were told of war-time experience and the coming of peace by those who have lived to tell the tale. The King spoke reflectively about the war time experience, its meaning and value in today's uncertain world. 

I half listened to the show rather than watched it, as I really wanted to read more of Sangre Nueva, which is quite difficult, especially as my phone battery nearly died and needed a re-charge, just when I needed the services of Google Translate to make sense of a sentence. This slowed me down, made me re- read the same sentence until I could connect it to what I'd read. As a result I went to bed later than intended.

Conclave - not the movie!

Sunshine to start with today and a bit warmer, but it clouded over in the afternoon. Two Eucharists to celebrate today, St Catherine's and St John's. Seven adults and two children at St Catherine's and ten at St John's, including family members of one of the regulars, who'd come on their was to Thornhill Cemetery to scatter the ashes of a brother on the parents grave. He died in Scotland and wasn't given a funeral there. I was asked if I could offer some prayers during the Eucharist, and had to improvise quickly. Fortunately the container for the cremated remains was small enough to fit on the small shelf next to the altar in the Lady Chapel, where there's a statue of Our Lady, and there was enough room for a sanctuary lamp candle as well. Once that was sorted out I was able to use from memory a few of the relevant prayers from the funeral rite. The Gospel for the day from John 6 is one I often use at funerals, as it speaks of Christ's unconditional acceptance of all who look to him. Pure providence for a pastor on this occasion!

I collected this week's veggie bag from Chapter on the way home, and cooked lunch. Clare was still on her way back from town and the meal was almost ready by the time she arrived, even if it was three quarters of an hour later than usual. Then, a walk in the park for an hour and a half, before listening to the teatime news. The papal electoral conclave has started in Rome, with large crowds in St Peter's Square gathering to  watch the inaugural Mass and swearing of secrecy oaths by electors relieved of their digital devices and assisted by total wifi blackout of the Sistine Chapel and Domus Sta Marta, where the Cardinals are housed for the direction of the conclave. Pope Francis stayed there when he was elected, and chose not to move out and  into the official papal apartments for the rest of his life Memories of him being present there as a permanent resident must be very strong for all those prelates who have stayed or visited him there since. An inaugural ballot was cast early evening, and black smoke was seen by the crowds, not unexpectedly. You can think of it as a live test of the stove and chimney as much as an opinion about candidates.

I read 'Sangre Nueva' for an hour before supper. Afterwards I sent an email to all eighteen people who have Kimber family DNA whose email addresses I have with a copy of Jack's tale and how it came to be written. I know there are a few more offspring of the most recent generation that I don't have contact details for, but am hoping their parents will pass on the story to them. It's taken me a while to get around to doing this but now I'm content it's done at last.

Then I watched a couple more episodes of 'The Good Doctor until it was time for bed.

Getting ahead of myself

A good night's sleep and waking up to a cloudless sky, the best way to start the day. Clare went off to her study group after breakfast. I spent the morning working next week's Morning Prayer video and uploading it to YouTube, and prepared the Office and a reflection for the week after that and recorded it as well. As we're in Catalunya next week, all I need to do is post the relevant link WhatsApp, and there won't be much left to do when we return.

I had an interesting email from Paul, Lay Reader in the former Costa Azahar chaplaincy, telling about the way the Iberian electrical grid outage affected different communes in his area. Curiously, Benicarlo between Vinaros and Peniscola had a much longer blackout than its neighbours. 'Cascading failure' of the grid is the technical term that was used. Not all the power fails at the same time. Electrical current flows like water, along paths of least resistance in the distribution network, and stops flowing first where it is higher, as may be the case if substations are older. Mobile phone networks fail at different rates when their power from the grid fails and they switch to backup power supplies, which may not all be of exactly the same capacity and duration, likewise hospitals and air traffic controls. A catastrophic failure reveals where there are strengths and weaknesses in the system, and raises questions about resilience. 

As my grandfather used to say to me with enthusiasm seventy years ago "The future will be all electric!" And so it is coming to pass, but there are risks in relying uniquely for every need on the production and delivery of one kind of power - the equivalent of mono-culture in the agricultural world. If no mechanical alternative source of power is available, we become more vulnerable. I was amused to read that sales of wind up clockwork FM radios are increasing rapidly, invented decades ago for situations and countries with no grid electricity.

I cooked rice with prawns and veg in a creamy sauce for lunch, and we were both pleased with the result. Afterwards I went shopping with my rucksack for heavy groceries at Tesco's. It's extra demanding on the legs and ankles, but worth doing to maintain muscle tone - certainly better than tugging a trolley. Then I went for a walk in the Llandaff Fields. Progress on converting the old bowling green into Padel courts has taken a visible leap forward. Last week a huge steel framework about five metres high was erected on the site. Since yesterday one half of this has acquired convex roof trusses, making the whole structure visible at a distance. I wonder how many courts this structure will house when it's complete. Four maybe?

After supper, I watched another couple of episodes of 'The Good Doctor'. Each story presents instances of the kind of ethical questions which doctors and surgeons face, and sometimes associated legal issues. It's turning out to be better than I originally thought it would. 

Comings and goings on VE80 Bank Holiday

The temperature went down to 7C overnight, rising to 12C  art the end of the morning. A cool and cloudy bank holiday Monday in the week that the 80th anniversary of VE day is celebrated across Europe. I slept quite well and got up for breakfast at eight. Housework after breakfast, interrupted by needing to recharge the vacuum cleaner battery. The spare backup battery died a few months ago, we haven't tried to replace it yet. When I checked my Fitbit phone app google demanded that I log in again, having never logged out in the first place. It rejected my two stage password credentials several times and then switched to asking for my passkey code, which it accepted the third try. Very annoying but also time consuming. Maybe it's just because the network is slow due to congestion somewhere in cyber space.

I've noticed in recent days reports on the cascading power failure of the Iberian peninsula power grid that mention a blackout lasting seconds occurring in the previous weeks without crashing the network, and a similar occurrence in Britain too. Hostile hackers are for the time being ruled out. One thing I haven't yet heard mention of is the possible impact of 'solar weather' on earth. In certain circumstances

This past six months there has been an upsurge of nights when the aurora borealis is visible further south than usual. Geomagnetic storms due to the impact of solar radiation on earth's magnetic field can produce power surges and trigger outages. Could there have been some unforeseen, perhaps random interaction to trigger such big failures? So far I've not come across any discussion about this.

Clare cooked a veggie pasta dish for lunch. We watched some of the VE day 80th anniversary military parade in London on iPlayer and presided over the King and three generations of the Royal Family. Very impressive indeed with lots of appropriate emphasis on remaining veterans, all close to 100 years old now. A real thanksgiving celebration for the self sacrifice in defeating Nazism made by men and women of that generation who were young at the time.

Our neighbour Rob asked if we could look after his front door key and hand it to a young man who was going to be cat-sitting for him, from this afternoon. I agreed, as Clare was staying in and watching the VE day broadcast. I went for a walk in Thompson's Park for an hour and recorded some birdsong with the Merlin app which identified half a dozen different birds in the trees by the bench I was sitting on. Mary our neighbour was also walking in the park, stopped and chatted for a while. While we were talking Clare called and asked if I could return so she could then go out. When I got back she was in the middle of a flute lesson and hadn't got ready to go out. She'd forgotten to look at her diary! I then stayed in to await the cat sitter, who was supposed to be arriving to collect it after work. The best laid plans of mice and men, I thought.

I stayed in so Clare could go out, waiting until the cat sitter collected the keys, three hours late, then I went out to complete my walking for the day. By the time I returned, Clare had come back, had an early supper and was getting ready to go to choir practice. I had supper on my own, then recorded next week's Morning Prayer and Reflection and edited it. Then I watched a couple more episodes of 'The Good Doctor' until it was time for bed.

Literary mystery

A day of clouds and sunshine, but with a blustery cold east wind bringing the temperature down to 16C. A better night's sleep thankfully. We went to the St Catherine's Eucharist and I bought our weekly food bank offering at the Co-op on my way there. Fr Andrew Ministry Area Leader celebrated in Fr Sion's absence. His mother died yesterday. I'm not surprised, since he asked me to cover Wednesday's services for him, as he reckoned that he'd be spending extra time with her in the coming week. Cynthia Davies, God rest her soul, outlived her husband Saunders, former Bishop of Bangor, by seven years.

After the service, Clare left ahead of me, but I was unable to catch her up. When I got home she wasn't in and arrived five minutes after me. We both took the same route home and I didn't pass her on my way. I'm not sure what happened there! I had an exchange of messages from Veronica about our flight arrival time next Saturday, and alerting me to look out for John at the Arrivals gate.

After lunch, I worked on my sermon for next Sunday, and went out for a walk later. The cold wind made me wish I'd put on a pullover to go out. It reminded me of a day at the seaside when there's a strong sea breeze and bright sunshine. 

I spent the evening until bed time reading more of 'Sangre Nueva'. Definitely a fantasy adventure novel. The story has moved from being about witch hunting to werewolves. I suspect it's written for the teenage market. Can't find any reviews on-line, but found none. Several writers have almost identical names, but not contemporary or Spanish A literary biography search produced no information on the author. The book is sold by Amazon and a few other on-line book retailers with little relevant information, except that I'm reading the first of a trilogy called 'El periplo de los malditos', the journey of the accursed. Crime novels penned under his name say he's lived half his life in Britain and teaches languages in a London secondary school. A website address I found in his other book no longer works. All very odd.

Dehydration by stealth

Cooler today, but still bright and sunny with some cloud. After breakfast I had a bout of diahorrea and my mind became foggy. Checking airport coach bookings for our flight to Barcelona next Saturday became unusually difficult as I couldn't retain short term information in order to make a proper plan. I didn't have a headache, but my ability to express myself verbally was impaired and I became panicky, although I had drunk at least a pint of water and coffee at breakfast it took a while to recognise the impact of dehydration, and loss of minerals. It's something which happens to me in warmer weather. 

I'm obliged to take a daily diuretic to prevent potassium accumulating from the blood pressure pills I take, and probably drink too much weak coffee, but it seems to creep up un-noticed and overtake me. In order to recover, I had to drink another couple of pints of water. I find it's easy not to notice if I don't drink enough first thing in the morning, especially if I get distracted or have to rush for any reason. 

At the end of the morning still recovering, Clare and I walked to the coach station to renew our Senior Coach Cards and book tickets in person rather than on line. On the way there she insisted on booking us a table for lunch at Elgano's Italian restaurant on Cathedral Road, a very nice place to eat pasta and a bowl of green salad. When we reached the booking office I realised I'd forgotten my wallet containing my coach card and bus pass. Clare bought herself a new coach card, but I had to return home after lunch to collect my wallet and then return to renew the Coach Card and book tickets. 

Forgetting to return the wallet to the pocket where it stays in a jacket I currently wear is certainly a consequence of the morning's dehydration episode. By the time I got home I'd covered my daily distance and a bit more, despite the effort to take it easier as my Fitbit app proposed. None the worse for wear anyway.

I worked on writing another biblical reflection for the week after next, so that I've got a video to post to WhatsApp while I'm in Catalunya, and the basis of another for the week after that. Then all I'll have left to prepare will be a sermon for next Sunday in Madremanya. I continued after supper, then watched another episode of 'The Good Doctor' and then it was time for bed. 

Introducing Merlin

Since Mayday is thought of as the beginning of summer, the continuing spell of unusually warm weather is very definitely summery rather than half way between the start of spring and the start of summer. Just as nine o'clock comes around we often get a robot scam call likewise at lunchtime. Each time a different fake caller number is displayed. I reached the phone to pick up and leave to one side idle, keeping the line open until the robot scammer times out. Speak, and an automatic message is delivered called for a response. The longer the line is idle the fewer numbers robo-scammer can auto-dial. If the voicemail message kicks in, a notification is left reporting the fake number as a missed call. You're then stuck with a phone which bleeps you about missed calls, and obliges you to return the call, you cannot just delete it, unless there is some arcane way of doing this I haven't yet discovered. Such a nuisance.

Again it's 22C today. Ann's experience with the Merlin app yesterday convinced me to give it a try, so I installed it on my phone, and tested it again one of yesterday's recordings in the park, which I knew was a blackbird. The app confirmed this. Then I tried a four minute file of birdsong in the Taffside woodlands. I was astonished that the app recognised snatches of ten birds, including a peregrine falcon which nests in Llandaff Cathedral tower. It distinguished between song and missle thrushes, identified a blackcap which I've only ever caught a glimpse of, a nuthatch, a robin, and so on. All of these I know and most of them I have caught sight of at one time or another. It's amazingly good, designed and run by Cornell University. It's a research tool that can be used wherever you are in the world, and the data helps build a live data map which ornithology students can refer to. I love this idea and its outworking. No ads!

By the time I'd properly labelled all my edited bird song files and deleted the raw audio files, it was time to cook lunch, to convert fish pie mix from the Market into a slow cooking paella, going carefully, using risotto rice, as we can't get hold of paella rice at the moment. An enjoyable experience with bright sunlight to lighten the mood even further. Clare returned from the shop just when it was ready to serve.

There were more heavy grocery items to go shopping for after lunch, then a walk in the park. Again I feel physically tired today, yet I've not been exercising any more than usual lately. The Fitbit app keeps telling me I'm 'overdoing training' and need to rest more. I don't train, but follow the same routine of being in the fresh air for at least two hours every day. Could it be that I'm starting to wear out? I decided to reduce my daily step and distance target by ten percent, to see if it makes any difference. It's true I'm walking more slowly, taking longer to cover my target distance. Clare's painful hip is compelling her to walk at nearly half her usual pace. It means re-calculating the estimated time taken to walk to routine destinations, like church, Beanfreaks, the surgery, nearest bus stops etc. More trials of senescence.

After supper I looked at photos taken in the park of people enjoying the sunshine, as I did yesterday. Youngsters horse riding, playing rugby a barbecue picnic, swimming at Blackweir. Thinking about how to exhibit these in an interesting way in a photobook or a gallery display. Every picture tells a story, but how to get them to tell a story together that makes sense? It's something I'm not familiar with.

The the premiere of a Friday night 'Walter Presents' series called 'Panda', a French comedy flic story with a whodunit mystery tackled by an inexperienced investigator and an ex-cop with Sherlock Homes type powers of observation, who/s dropped out of the force and turned into hippie dropout beach bum yogi who gets in her way. It's quite funny, and the French is easy to follow. Then bed.

Distraction

Another comfortably warm sunny day at 22C. After breakfast I took a leisurely shower and washed my hair. An email arrived notifying me that payment of the balance for our Duoro cruise in August is due in two weeks time, exactly three months before it happens. The time since we booked seems to have passed quickly. I sent an email to Kate our travel agent, as the email came from Co-op Travel with whom she is an independent agent for confirmation that it is as intended to be. Cyber attacks on the Co-op network are headline news today, as they have been for M&S recently. It seems all's well. In the meanwhile, we have our trip to the Costa Brava in nine days time, and maybe a trip to the Gower or Tenby in the meanwhile.

Last week I recorded a bird in Thompson's Park, edited and cleaned up the sound file and sent it to Ann, as she has the Merlin birdsong app on her phone. She responded by relating that she'd played it, presumably on her laptop phone in hand, and confirmed that it was, as I suspected, a Nuthatch. As soon as she played it, a Nuthatch swooped down out of a tree at the end of her garden to investigate! She told me previously that they visit her bird table, which was partly why I sent her the file.

I cooked a spicy veggie chick pea dish for lunch while Clare was out walking. After we'd eaten I went to the Co-op for heavy groceries. While I was loading my rucksack a woman queuing behind me approached the cashier with a query and he left the till while he went away to check something. The intrusion broke my concentration and the cashier's. I walked out of the store without paying, thinking of where I needed to go next, and had crossed the road outside before realising that he was chasing after me and shouting to get my attention. I ran back apologising as much as he was, realising that his concentration on completing the transaction had been broken at the critical moment. The woman pushing in with the quick query ended up waiting for longer than she anticipated. I hope she was embarrassed. It's never happened to me before, but it certainly illustrates how we rely on routine habits, to get stuff done, and the perils of even accidental disruption.

Then a walk through Canton down to Sophia Gardens and back home through the park. I tried my hand at recording birds with my  phone again. My legs are stiff, but not painfully so. It's taking me longer to cover my daily distance, longer to warm up while I'm walking and I need to stop, not because I'm out of breath, but to give my muscles a brief respite. Oh the trial of an ageing body! 

After supper I edited the sound files with the on-line app 'Twisted Wave'. It's more capable than I originally thought for basic functions, but you have to pay to use its more complex file handling facilities. We watched a lovely Welsh language nature programme on S4C hosted by our favourite nature guru and bird enthusiast, focusing the wildlife treasures of our highly diverse ecosystems of our native landscape. He took us through a succession on video clips of different species lost and species barely hanging on and species holding their own or recovering, with statistics reminding us of what we stand to lose through climate change and abuse of the environment.

Then I read for a while before getting ready for bed.