Aberfan remembered

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

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

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

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

I cooked fish and veg for lunch when I got back from church as Clare hadn't yet returned from a talk about Aberfan at Conway Road Methodist Church 'Over Fifties' club. Unfortunately I burned the rice I was cooking due to a lapse in concentration, so we ended up having couscous instead. I had an acupuncture treatment with Peter at two thirty. When I got home I slept for an hour, mostly in a deep sleep which disposed of some of the stress generated by managing back pain. After supper I went to the Co-op to buy bananas. It was raining and pitch dark, conditions in which I'm most aware of visual impairment. When the clocks go back I will need to get up earlier and make sure I've done my daily distance earlier to make the most of daylight hours. It's bad enough on low light days under overcast skies.

Yesterday's appointment letter today

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drama as education

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

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

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

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

Mayhem in France

Sleeping last night in a double bed with a more supportive mattress was certainly more comfortable, so my back was less painfully stressed when I got up this morning. I still lost a couple of hours' sleep getting up to empty my bladder. I needed to move carefully in and out of bed to avoid pain and strain, but muscle and joint inflammation is reducing now. I took an ibuprofen tablet as a precaution, and was able to move with less discomfort and walk to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist at a fair pace. The church hall is out of action due to location filming so there were no refreshments after the service and we came straight home. It was too cold to stand around and chat in the open air, despite the clear sky and autumn sunshine. After lunch I slept in my armchair for an hour, then walked for nearly an hour in Llandaff Fields.

In the run-up to presidential elections in France, widespread protests against the government by students about the cost of living and poor conditions in schools and colleges, have been badly handled by the police and erupted into mob riots with looting and arson in Paris and other cities. The voices of extreme left and right wing activists polarise the nation and drown consensus building middle ground political leadership at a time. It's a measure of frustration and anger felt by many at the inability of the government to meet their needs at a time of insecurity and uncertainty about the future affecting everyone. It remains to be discovered who is really behind this stirring up of social unrest. 

Israel is also about to elect a new government, with Netanyahu seeking approval for waging a genocidal war against Hamas in Palestinian Gaza and partnership with America in waging war against Iran. Trump openly endorses Netanyahu's leadership. If the US mid-term elections express disapproval for Trump, how will this influence the opinion of Israeli electors?

After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Cleddau' on iPlayer. Within the murder investigation story are no fewer than three different instances of coercive controlling relationships. It reflects a social concern that came to light through domestic tragedies leading to the UK Serious Crimes Act in 2015 which made coercive control a criminal act. This was highlighted in the story of Helen Archer and Rob Titchener in the longest running radio soap opera the year before.

A familiar story

Another night with a couple of hours' sleep loss due to back pain taking half an hour to get mobile, able to sit down for our Saturday pancake breakfast without discomfort, thanks to an ibuprofen tablet. I work at sitting down and standing up in a careful, balanced way that avoids increased pain in the places where I feel I have a trapped nerve and strained muscles. That's as much as I can do. It's physically tiring, on top of poor sleep. Clare cooked lunch. I slept for two hours in my arm chair after we'd eaten. As I relaxed the back pain diminished. Eventually I was able to walk for nearly an hour under a clear sky before the sun reached the horizon, but it was cold, 10C. After supper I watched the rest of the first series of 'Cleddau' and started the second. The story seemed familiar. I guessed some but not all the plot twists. 

A search of previous blog posts took me back eighteen months to a BBC Wales crimmie called 'The one that got away', the English language version with some subtitled Welsh dialogue. 'Cleddau' is an all Welsh version screened on S4C with breaks where adverts would be inserted if shown on a commercial channel. I needed the sub-titles, but was interested to discover how much Welsh vocabulary I understood and was familiar with. This happens if I watch something in French, German, Italian, or Spanish - all languages I'm familiar with and can make sense of in written or spoken form, but don't speak confidently. It's part of the entertainment value as far as I'm concerned.

Catch up

Another uncomfortable night, losing sleep coping with a painful back. At least the sun is shining today. Rufus and I agreed to meet at Cafe Castan, but he called before I could un-stiffen myself and leave the house, to say he was finding it impossible to park nearby. There's always room in Meadow Street during the day under the new parking regulations, so I invited him to come to the house and use our guest parking app and drink coffee chez nous instead. It was good to see him in good form, applying his organisational experience to working with Missions to Seafarers volunteers. After we parted company I cooked savoury veg and chick peas with couscous for lunch. I had to move carefully because the back pain made me feel unstable on my feet, and took time attempting to free trapped back muscles afterwards. I couldn't sleep but rested and read until it was time to walk in Llandaff Fields for an hour before sunset. There's a cold wind today, I wouldn't be surprised to see all the trees turn brown and gold over the weekend.

After supper I watched a Welsh language crimmie with subtitles on BBC iPlayer called 'Cleddau' it was on S4C originally.

Memories of Wartime

An overcast day with periods of fine drizzling rain. Although I slept well I woke up again with back pain, as bad as yesterday. I think the mattress on my bed isn't supporting my weight properly when I get out to empty my bladder.  The strain of repeating an awkward movement takes its toll on my right buttock and hip joint. I needed a rub with ibuprofen gel to suppress the pain and get mobile. Clare went to town after breakfast in search of a duvet cover for Rachel while I cooked a seafood paella, managing my complaining back as best as I could on my feet, moving about the kitchen. In the end I took an ibuprofen pill as the gel was starting to wear off. I found it hard concentrating on the detail of cooking while moving carefully to avoid making a move that would make things worse. The paella turned out quite well. For dessert we had experimental chocolate ice cream Clare made from the flesh of a Hallowe'en pumpkin with honey, cocoa powder and yogurt.

I sat in my arm chair writing for most of the afternoon, feeling the need to rest my back. I didn't go out and walk until tea time. I exchanged messages with Sara whose parents are celebrating their diamond wedding anniversary this month. She spoke about their reticence to remember growing up in post-war Sweden, having Norwegian relatives. Sweden supplied iron ore to Germany and let Nazi troops transit the country to invade Norway, the price paid for remaining neutral and retaining independence. As well as being a time of hardship it was difficult in other ways, though Sweden's neutrality enabled it to play an important part in saving Scandinavian Jews from extermination and stranded allied servicemen from capture. Her questions about my family's wartime history prompted me to remember stories my mother told me about her experience of life in the mining valleys. It occurred to me that my grandchildren know nothing of this. Perhaps I should share these recollections with them too. 

Trump has reacted to criticism about allowing live streaming the firing squad execution of mass murderer Nidal Hassan by reversing his decision. Relations between Trump and Zelensky have deteriorated further with Trump accusing him of destroying Ukraine, a nonsensical idea when Russian ballistic missiles and drones rain down on Kyiv. Zelensky speaks of being betrayed by Trump. Ukraine has resumed striking Russian oil refineries, and Yandex a key Russian search data processing centre, disrupting internet traffic. 

Ukraine's innovative use of drone technology and AI in countering Russian aggression reveals an ability to inflict strategic damage to Russia's economy and its war machine. Between four hundred and four hundred and fifty Russian soldiers have died since Ukraine was invaded four and a half years ago with up to one and a half million soldiers wounded or missing. As well as stopping Ukraine from being overwhelmed by Russia's invasion, success in developing military technology makes Ukraine an attractive prospect for future investment in defence industries. Trump's attempts to broker a cease fire and start peace talks have been as unfruitful in North Eastern Europe as they have been in the Middle East.

This afternoon, I took advantage of feeling less painfully stiff to go for a walk in Llandaff Fields as the sun was setting. I needed another rub with ibuprofen gel after supper. Then I watched the last two episodes of 'Black Sands', the content of which could have been compressed into a single episode, as the slow pace of portraying the end of the story, with a lengthy twilight search on a black volcanic sandy beach with dunes  added little apart from impatience to get it over with and get to bed.

Under the shadow

A good night's sleep, but I woke up with muscle pain in the middle of my back above the pelvis, stiff neck and shoulders. I must have slept for some time in an awkward position. I had to move slowly, carefully and in a balanced way to avoid putting my vertebrae and pelvis out of alignment. I had a phone call while I was in the shower about an appointment at St David's hospital, following up on a GP referral. Clare brought the phone to me, but the line dropped as the phone was too far from the base station. I called the hospital and was given a date for triage at an incontinence clinic. I wasn't sure why and enquired of the appointments secretary what this was all about. 

It's been six weeks since the boil on my buttock burst and I asked to be referred for wound dressing to the district nurse team, aware of the daily demand for care this would place on Clare. No pasa nada. Thanks to Clare the wound has healed nicely. Given that the initial infection broke out in scar tissue as a result of a violent diarrhea side effect from clot busting medication, I thought it might be worth asking for a scan of the affected muscle tissue to check how stable it now is. 

Step one is a consultation with Dr Morse, whom I saw back in March as part of the general health check I received six months after the stroke. At that time the medication was having a bad effect on me. I asked how long I'd have to continue taking it, and was told it's 'a life sentence'. Well, I've been given a reprieve. My digestive tract works as God intends it to. No incontinence to deal with, but I shall press for a scan to find out if there's any hidden risk remaining. 

Sorting out the appointment lost me the time needed to get to St Catherine's for the Eucharist. I went to the church hall half an hour later to say hello to people and buy a bag of church garden tomatoes. I called at the pharmacy for a prescription renewal while I was in the vicinity and was told it would be ready in a week's time. Just as well I have two week's medication left.

When I got back home I lay on my back with a book under my head and worked on relaxing muscles and warming them up gently while Clare cooked pasta for lunch. I needed to sleep for half an hour afterwards  then I went into town to get the the book I ordered from Waterstones' for Clare birthday - a new translation of the Epic of Gilgamesh by Poet Laureate Andrew Motion. After this I felt ready for a brisk walk up and down Llandaff Fields as the muscle pain was easing. After supper, I spent the evening writing.

Russia has stepped up its bombardment of Ukrainian energy infrastructure and residential areas of Kyiv. Trump's 'energy ceasefire' is a figment of his imagination. He is coercing Ukraine into complying with his wishes, influencing Elon Musk, to throttle Musk's Starlink satellite network, making it much harder to detect incoming missile strikes and defend against them. Political commentators ask if Trump has become a Russian ally. He seems willing to appease rather than confront Putin. For years Trump has cultivated business relationships in Russia. Who knows what compromising information Russia has on him? 

The head of MI5 warns against increasing threats from Russian cyber attacks and the dangers of AI being used to develop new threats by 'hostile actors', as individuals, organisations or nation states are referred to in security jargon. Sanctioned  Russian oil tankers and naval vessels sail through seas close to Britain and our air space is probed by Russian drones and military aircraft, risking an incident but just avoiding one. We hear of criminals hired to commit crimes on behalf of anti-semitic extremists, and on behalf of Iran or Russia. It's disturbing to think that war could break out in Western Europe accidentally and Britain would not be exempt from the consequences.

Tired legs

I thought I slept quite well and woke up fairly refreshed but my Fitbit told a different story. I asked myself if it's really that accurate in monitoring and interpreting bodily electrical impulses 24/7.  After breakfast, Clare went off by taxi to her study group meeting in Penarth. I spent the morning reflecting and writing. When Clare returned, sooner than anticipated, we prepared lunch together. Then she went to see a movie at the Chapter cinema while I did the grocery shopping in the Co-op and Tesco's after we'd eaten. Neither of us remembered that Jorja was due to clean the house this afternoon. Oops!

I found the exercise tough going this afternoon. I felt physically tired as if I was recovering from running a marathon, which to be fair, was what the Google Health app indicated, telling me I needed to rest and take it easy before exercising today. I don't understand why I should feel like this. I wasn't out of breath, but I did stop and sit on a park bench a few times to relax my leg muscles rather than pushing myself hard. 

I went home at tea time to deal with the rubbish and recycling, but Clare was back from the cinema and on the job and had put out the bins already. We had supper together, then she went to a Pilates class while I went out again and walked the rest of my daily distance as it got dark. The last half hour of my walk was less strenuous than earlier. I felt as if my leg muscles had taken all day to warm up and I was able to go at a more brisk pace. Sometimes my body feels like a stranger to me.

I spent the evening after supper watching the final episode of series one of the Icelandic crimmie 'Black Sands' and several more of series two, including an episode dating from 20 years earlier serving as a prequel to series one, explaining the back story to dysfunctional relationships and perpetrators portrayed in series one. It's an unusual device. The last episode can wait until tomorrow.

Escalation

A colder night, with the aurora borealis displaying overhead to the north and west of us, but the sky wasn't clear enough of thin cloud for the colours to be visible. It was overcast and raining when I got up, but it didn't last long. A good night's sleep nevertheless, although it didn't prevent me from feeling tired and stiff. I don't know why.

Clare went shopping, and I cooked lunch. She came home with a new steel frying pan and steel utensil to turn pan fried food, replacing one made of disturbingly deteriorating plastic.  After a brief siesta I walked around Thompson's Park and then Llandaff Fields. I caught sight of a Jay foraging in the open grass and took several photos. As I walked back down the avenue I was overtaken by a cyclist with a toddler in the back pannier. A second child on a bicycle about five years old was pedalling furiously to catch up and called out "Daddy!" He slowed a little and extended his right hand at a low enough level for the child to take his hand and hold on to it as they rode on together ahead of me, too fast to get out the camera I'd just put away and take what would have been a touching photo from behind. Clare had already eaten supper early when I arrived home, as she was about to go out for choir practice.

For the second time in the past few days, Houthi forces have attacked King Khaled international airport in Riyadh with missiles, killing 13 people and injuring over 300. The airport is now closed as a result. The Saudis struck Houthi forces holding the airport in Sanaa and Saudi air defences are being kept busy dealing with incoming missiles.

Crude oil is still being exported through the Straight of Hormuz by tankers under US naval escort despite occasional attacks from Iranian forces or its Houthi proxies. Houthi control of the Bab al Mandeb gateway to the Red Sea adds to the risk and vulnerability of supply chains. Iran is exporting oil in defiance of American sanctions. The volume of refined products, particularly diesel and liquid natural gas, is well below pre-war levels, leading to price rises with far reaching economic consequences. There has been no progress in diplomatic talks. 

Trump speaks with false optimism of the war ending 'real soon now'. He alleged yesterday that Ukraine and Russia have agreed to an 'energy cease-fire', but Russian attacks on Ukrainian power infrastructure since then express contempt for his utterances and show how foolish he is to believe he has influence to bring an end to either conflict. He minimises the effect of support that Iran is receiving from Russia and China in the background and is in no position to confront them openly, having invested so much in waging a war against Iran that has caused so much economic upheaval in the Gulf states and wider world.

With the sun setting around half past six, impaired eyesight is slower to adjust to reduction in contrast outdoors. I've got used to this over the past year, and take more care to notice my surroundings when I'm walking. I need stronger light to use a keyboard as well as when I read a book. After supper I watched another episode of gloomy slow moving Icelandic crimmie 'Black Sands'. Much of it is filmed in semi darkness for dramatic effect. It does nothing to enhance my viewing experience. It's frustrating.

Attention seeking outrage

Quite a good night's sleep, despite going to bed late. We were nearly late arriving at St Catherine's for the Eucharist but that was due to Clare walking slower than usual. Her ankle is giving her pain at the moment. Two children were baptized during the service this morning. I thought Fr Sion looked more relaxed taking the service. With the St John's congregation worshipping in St Catherine's at 9.00am today, he didn't have to leave early to rush between churches to meet a deadline.

After lunch and a snooze, I walked in Llandaff Fields, while Clare's study group was meeting. Here and there, a noticeable section of a particular tree's leaf cover has turned golden brown, though the majority of trees have not yet followed suit. It made me wonder if one tree suffers more stress than those surrounding it to accelerate leaf die-back: e.g. exposure to a localised current of hot or cold air, or insufficient water reaching its roots. Each tree has its own story.

Navi Pillay, a highly regarded South African who was an International Criminal Court judge has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. The U.N. Human Rights Commission, and the Court have come under increasing criticism and attack in recent years. Last year  a UN report overseen by her concluded that Israel's actions in Gaza were genocidal. The Nobel committee stated that by honouring her it wanted to remind the world that the international and national rule of law underpins the system devised. 

Trump reacted in a fit of pique, attacking the Nobel committee decision as 'political', and announcing fresh sanctions on the International Criminal Court, the body established in 2002 to prosecute individuals accused of war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide. In a joint statement, the foreign ministers of Canada, Denmark, Germany, France, Italy, Japan, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom reaffirmed their “continued and unwavering support” for the Court, which condemned Trump's move as an “assault on the rule of law and on the very foundations of the international legal order,” 

Trump has also announced that America will buy sanctions breaking diesel supplies from Russia to meet the global shortage created by his war against Iran, with the aim of reducing the pump price of diesel in the run up to mid-term elections to boost his plummeting popularity. The revenue will support Putin's effort to prolong the war against Ukraine. President Zelenskiy described this as "A gift to Putin, an investment in a war that must be ended." Trump reacted by saying it's time for Ukraine to get a new President, but his move has met with strong criticism from Congress members on both sides. 

Trump's Department of Justice proposes speeding up the death penalty backlog using execution by firing squad. It comes in the wake of last week's botched execution of a woman by lethal injection, who is now recovering in hospital. It's not clear what will happen to her next. First on his hit list is Ex Major Nidal Hasan, an army psychiatrist  with hidden islamist sympathies, who massacred thirteen unarmed soldiers at an army base in 2009. He was paralysed from the waist down in the shoot-out. It is proposed the execution will be live streamed to serve as a deterrent to others. But what message about justice and humanity is conveyed by legally killing a wheelchair bound man in public? One attention grabbing pronouncement after another from the White House administration generates outrage or uncertainty. America's economy suffers meanwhile? Does Trump or any of his advisors have any real idea about the impact of his decisions and pronouncements on the world outside of his charmed circle of fans?

After supper I watched the melodramatic finale of series one of 'Black Sands'. Behind the murder mystery a back story of child abuse in a dysfunctional foster family. It was a bit difficult to piece together. Working out who was who among the characters from the way it was portrayed added unnecessarily to the mystery. The dialogue was in English or in Icelandic, a North Western Germanic language descended from Old Norse. Familiarity with German, Swedish and Danish movies made it possible to identify some words but not the flow of dialogue. Relying mostly on sub titles added to the challenge of working out what went on. A lapse of concentration meant having to rewind to read and make sense of dialogue, not something that's often necessary. I've just discovered there's a second series to watch. Shall I bother?

Excursion

A better night's sleep feeling refreshed when I got up. Clare we up ahead of me cooking Saturday breakfast pancakes. We wanted to visit a lighting shop at the bottom of Sloper road to look for a replacement standard lamp, but had difficulty identifying the best bus that would take us in that direction as we'd already decided on a trip to Penarth. The information provided by Cardiff bus is plentiful but not exactly user friendly in the way it's presented. We ended up going to the bus station in town to get one of several different buses which go to Penarth via Sloper Road, with the aim of visiting the shop on returning from our excursion.

Clare bought a small pumpkin yesterday and excavated the flesh from inside it to use in making pumpkin soup for lunch. It was full of flavour, enhanced with lemon juice. Then we went to the bus station on a 61 and caught a 92 to Windsor Road in Penarth, where we caught a convenient 305 which took us a mile downhill to the sea front. The tide was out. We walked on the pier enjoying the spectacular view of the pebble beach and Severn Estuary under a blue sky with fluffy white clouds floating in it. Then we walked up to the cliff top path and had a cup of tea from an ice cream stall overlooking the children's playground and the sea. We climbed back up to Windsor Road on the steep path through Alexandra Park, and were lucky enough to find a 92 bus waiting to return to Cardiff bus station, where a 61 bus was about to depart. 

We got off at the stop near the 'Rock & Malt' fish and chip shop where we bought a generously portioned take-away supper. As my head was much clearer, I enjoyed our five bus excursion this afternoon rather than enduring it. It makes the prospect of holiday travel feel promising once more. After we'd eaten, I watched the finale of 'After the Flood' on ITVX then three episodes of 'Black Sands', keeping me up later than necessary. Serives me right if I'm tired tomorrow.

Jewellery shopping

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

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

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

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

The changing face of money

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grim anniversary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Intolerance unmasked

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Piecing together the past

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

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

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

Harvest anniversaries

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

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

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

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

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

The shadow of inflation

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

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

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

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

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

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

Better news

Another night when I didn't sleep as well or as long as I hoped for. Perhaps it's just nervousness before I go to UHW for my cardio appointment. I still needed to check with Santander bank that all is in order with my saving account now that the transaction network system is behaving normally again, so I repeated the trip made yesterday. There are no concerns about my account. It turns out the error message encountered yesterday registered as a duplicate of the one I attempted to make, which is not allowed in the transaction protocol. I saw no evidence the on-line transaction had gone through as the account page hadn't updated due to the network outage. The bank clerk confirmed that it was now displaying correctly. All is as it's meant to be. I sent a message to Owain, now over in Geneva, mentioning the slow updating. He too had been in contact with Santander and told it would take a couple of days to update the display of pending transactions.What a mess!

Then I went to the bus station for a bus to UHW and found a number seven was scheduled to go directly to the Heath up North Road. This journey took me only twenty minutes. It meant I arrived an hour earlier than I needed to be there for the appointment. I bought myself some sausage roll and kefir drink for lunch and whiled away the time updating my blog. At least I was punctual arriving. A half hour waiting to have my weight, blood pressure and temperature checked, and an EEG taken. 

Then, an hour waiting to see Dr O'Neill. He was aware of the fact that I'd stopped the dipyridamole medication, and satisfied in view of the general improvement in my condition that my sensitivity to it was reason enough to continue without it. The fact that I'm physically active with good stamina led him to consider there's no need for me to be fitted with a pacemaker. He's booked me in for an echo cardiogram in a couple of weeks time. I came away feeling light hearted and most grateful. Nothing to worry about. It was sunny too.

A crowd of people were waiting at the bus stop when I arrived. Then two number nine buses appeared at the same time, followed by a number seven, which took me as far as the Blackweir Tavern. I walked from there the rest of the way home across Blackweir and Pontcanna Fields, completing my step count for the day as I reached home.

After supper I found a new crimmie to watch on ITVX. 'Winter' is the name of a pathologist with a keen eye for detail, involved with police investigations into violent crimes. He has a tragic unresolved history as his own wife was murdered and the flawed criminal investigation into it left him unsatisfied, looking for answers. The series caught my eye as it's set in Clifton Bristol, where we spent our undergraduate years. 

Outage

 I didn't have the good night's sleep I needed to face a lunchtime hospital appointment. Santander notified me of a fixed term high interest savings account account transfer I needed to make, so I went to my online account after breakfast to deal with this and encountered an error message that made no sense. I asked the Sandi bot the reason and was logged out of my account. Nothing I could do would let me back in. The site froze on me. 

I went to the bank branch in town on  my way to UHW and discovered their network was down. On line news and comment revealed this is not the first time recently. Satisfied that it was not a mistake I made, or a malicious attack, I took a 110 bus UHW. It took an hour and ten minutes to get there, touring West Cardiff suburbs. Each time it stopped, the idling engine rattled the bus so strongly it was like sitting next to a pneumatic drill working flat out. 

I bought a snack lunch and waited an hour for the appointment, only to find I had come a day early - a diary error. I didn't think I could cope with another draining bus ride so I walked home.

 

We had supper early than took a taxi to the Millennium Centre for WNO's performance of 'La Boème' on a bleak grey minimalist stage. Some of the aris took me back to childhood musical evenings at home with my sisters and Uncle Mostyn singing with Mum playing the piano. We were lucky enough to get buses after the performance, so we were back home by eleven. I was surprised to find I had walked eight miles today, and wasn't as exhausted as I would have been when I was taking the clot busting meds.

Plots in the news

 I slept well and was strangely light headed again when I woke up, with lots of thick mucus later in the morning. I wonder if it's mild sinusitis? We were a dozen at the St Catherine's Eucharist. A wicker basket full of ripe tomatoes sat on the table among the coffee cups after the service. What an amazingly fruitful summer we've had in the church garden.

When I got home, I thought Clare had cooked fish fingers for lunch, but similar sized objects on the plate were composed of tofu - fried. I slept for three quarters an hour afterwards then walked in Llandaff Fields for an hour.

News came in dribs and drabs of an Israeli airline hijack attempt in Saudi airspace by the plane's Omani copilot, averted by the actions of pilot, passengers and crew. A strange affair which coincidentally showcases good relationships between Saudi Arabia and Israel. There's more to this than meets the eye in the way it's being handled I suspect.

A group of men were arrested yesterday in an odd attempt to make mischief at Fairford US military airbase with cans of petrol. Although the conspirators are Brits it is alleged they are Iranian proxies. Trump alleges the plotters were known about by US intelligence.

Clare had supper early this evening and went to Chapter Arts to try out a new choir she's thinking of joining. I watched another couple of episodes of  'Wisting' then it was time for bed. 

Costly overseas snail mail

I slept well again, woke up feeling clear and sharp, if a little light headed for most of the day. We looked on-line for a suitable replacement standard lamp before deciding which store to visit and buy one from. Few of the designs on offer were of any interest. Clare went off by taxi to her study group in Penarth mid morning. The group is having lunch together today. 

I did food and pharmacy shopping, then made lunch for myself, a veggie pasta dish. I needed to sleep for an hour afterwards as I was again drowsy after eating. Then I went to the Post Office to mail a card to Connie and Udo in Germany. When I asked the counter clerk the cost of the stamp he spoke indistinctly from behind a screen. It took two further attempts before I understood what he was saying, partly because I couldn't believe it was so expensive. Three pounds sixty, as much as the cost of the card. Incredible! 

Having forgotten to buy chocolate biscuits earlier, I popped into the Co-op to get some before returning home. Clare was just about to cook swordfish steaks for supper when I arrived - a delicious treat. I may have eaten too much today.

I watched a couple of episodes of Norwegian crimmie 'Wisting' on iPlayer this evening, only to realise that I'd seen it before - four years ago in fact.

Birthday girl

A good night's sleep from which I woke up feeling alert and fresh for a change. I sang Happy Birthday to Clare and lit a birthday candle on the breakfast table. Now we're both eighty one years old.

Owain arrived in time for us to go out for a birthday lunch together at 'Sonder' a recently opened restaurant on Llandaff Road. Clare and Owain were satisfied with their menu choices but I opted for a disappointing  lasagne with two different flavoured sausage meat fillings, topped with melted cheese rather than a cheese sauce. It turned out to be excessively greasy, quite a challenge to my digestion sans gall bladder. Somehow my digestion coped, although I felt really tired after the meal. 

We searched for a bakery or a cake shop to buy a celebratory cake, with little success, as many of them close on a Monday. Eventually Coffee#1 came up with a big slice of lemon drizzle cake which served the purpose, topped with a candle. Rachel called to greet her Mum when we got back home. It meant she could join us in singing Happy Birthday from the far side of the United States. 

Before returning to Bristol, Owain helped me to deal with an on-line banking issue, moving money from  one account to another to benefit from a better interest rate. Making an informed decision is the hard part as there's so much detailed information attached to each banking offer. Owain is experienced from his job at reading confidently through on-line documents and making sense of them, this saved me a lot of worry.

I went out after supper and walked for three quarters of an hour, listening to the Archers on my phone as it got dark, then spent the rest of the evening watching the last two high tension episodes of 'Trigger Point'. I thought the story-line was ridiculously flawed - a group of ruthless mercenaries delivering an atom bomb in a crate to a UK-USA football match in a stadium in the heart of London, to start a nuclear war. Hired by Iran? Or the CIA in a false flag operation? Russia isn't mentioned. None of those wicked killers would have a chance of surviving if a nuclear weapon were to obliterate London, yet none of them were portrayed as crazy jihadis. If they're in it for the money they won't get to spend it if they get blown up, as the economy is already collapsing. The rescuing heroine is 'superwoman, the anti-climactic ambiguous conclusion that left me wondering if she actually survives or is a ghost. Maybe it's left vague while a decision is made about a season five. 

 

Tomato abundance

Another night of seven hours' sleep from which I woke up feeling as if I hadn't slept enough despite being in bed for ten hours. I can no longer blame the meds for making me feel drowsy. My left nostril continues to have a tiny leak of blood which dries up, but results in a runny nose. It seems the wound is in no hurry to heal.

We went to the Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's. Three small children were baptized during the service. Children from Sunday Club escorted the families to the font from the chancel singing 'This little light of mine' - a nice touch. After the service Clare bought a jar of chutney made with red onion with church garden grown tomatoes from Hilary's church garden veggie stall. The tomato crop is abundant this year. Several different varieties of cherry tomatoes have been grown with a surprising assortment of flavours. A new taste experience when they arrive at the same time mixed together.

After lunch I dozed in my arm chair then walked for an hour around Thompson's Park. Clare went out separately to Victoria Park and walked further than she intended as she chose the wrong exit and lost her way on the return stretch. It's easy enough to do in a suburb of red brick terraced streets many of which look the same as each other.

I found a new series of the thriller 'Trigger Point' on ITVX after supper and binge watched three episodes before bed time. It's rather formulaic with its bomb disposal expert heroine playing forensic profiler unmasking evil conspiracies while doing her job and surviving great dangers. Entertaining rather than insightful.

Not the best of days

I didn't sleep so well and was awake for a couple of hours in the night. It left me feeling drowsy and slow to get going all morning. Clare was up before me and cooked our Saturday pancake breakfast. I walked up and down Llandaff Fields for three quarters of an hour to clear my head but it didn't make any difference to how I felt. I bumped into Marc and Fran and was introduced to Marc's son Josh who accompanied them. Josh is a stand-up comedian by profession. He resembles his dad, in voice and mannerisms, but he's completely bald whereas Marc is long haired.

Clare had lunch ready by the time I returned. I slept in my armchair for a while afterwards and felt fresher. Then I walked up and down Llandaff Fields for another hour. I've had a runny nose all day of the kind I've come to associate with recovery from a nose bleed when dried blood comes away with thick mucus as the nostril wound heals. I think waking up half a dozen times from bladder or bowel discomfort raises my blood pressure just enough to cause the wound to leak. The body reacts to the irritation by producing a surfeit of mucus. It's so frustrating, and tiring too. Early bed tonight.

Conker time

Well, I didn't have a nightmare last night but remember a dream about sorting books to get rid of. I woke up to a cloudy though not quite overcast day, quite warm. I slept well and wasn't as light headed as I have been the past few days. We took the bus into town after breakfast and found a jeweller's shop in the Royal Arcade displaying a simple lab grown diamond pendant that will go with a set of ear studs which Clare already has. The pendant is a birthday cum 60th anniversary present.

We went to John Lewis' top floor restaurant for a drink. I didn't feel like eating but Clare had salad and frittata for lunch. When we got back home, I cooked myself scrambled egg with a few rashers of bacon and a large fried tomato. Then a walk around Llandaff Fields. 

Over the past two weeks the ground beneath the trees along the avenue through the park have been littered with fallen chestnuts gathered by excited small boys for playing conkers with. Someone with an original take on tidiness collected enough of them to cover a circular drain cover set in the grass.

On my way home I called in the Co-op and bought a birthday card for Clare.

It seems that's a hint of progress towards ending the US-Iran war, moving beyond diplomatic exchanges to consider the technicalities involved. The UN General Assembly meeting has provided a background for  exchanges between countries with a stake in maintaining Middle Eastern oil supplies, impacted seriously by the Iran backed Houthi militia's choke hold over the Red Sea waterway. Qatar is active in mediation between Iran and the US. Iran proposes a seven day plan to re-open the Straight of Hormuz, re-starting talks on a wider peace agreement including nuclear issues, restrictions on oil exports and other economic sanctions. Trump is eager for success as US mid-term elections approach and opposition continues from Congress to American prolongation of war in the Middle East.

We had a long chat with Rachel in her new place in Arizona. She's unsettled, having difficulty adjusting to cramped accommodation, coping with the midge season in rural Cottonwood. I can't see her staying there for more than a year. She's not got room to set up her music recording studio which cramps her creativity as well. It's not good for her morale. I can't help but worry about her being so unsettled.

Accidental chaos

Waking up from another good night's sleep I felt light headed but alert. It's such a relief to be spared taking the medication that caused drowsiness.  

In the news recently there have been reports of AI agents hacking systems and extracting data, causing widespread concern. The Australian government's Medicare statistics portal has been breached by Open AI. As if that wasn't enough, it was announced this morning that the US FBI's personnel database with details of 38,000 employees and job applicants had been accessed by a group of hackers called 'Shiny Hunters'. No information has been released yet to indicate if the use of AI was involved. It's highly embarrassing for America's security services and could put lives at risk if details of undercover agents have been published.

Linda came around for coffee and a chat mid-morning, bringing home grown veggies with her freshly harvested - big beef tomatoes, cucumber, French beans. As ever, we talked about ailments and the frustrations of being messed around as an NHS patient.

We had an innovative lunch today. Clare bought a packet of black turtle beans in Beanfreaks, something we haven't tried before. They can be soaked and then boiled, to be eaten on their own, or they can be cooked in a stew to give it added flavour. Ashley called while I was having a siesta after the meal. We chatted for half an hour, then I went out and walked around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields for an hour and twenty minutes and took a few photos. It felt light headed and physically tired for no reason I could think of unless my body is still recovering from the toxic effect of the medication. 

After supper I had a problem when transferring pictures from a micro SD card to Google Photos. For some obscure reason my Chromebook wouldn't recognise the adapter I use, nor would it recognise a second micro SD card I use as a photo archive, plugged into the Chromebook micro SD slot. As I sought to diagnose the fault, and upload the photos I thought I'd try inserting the card from the camera straight into the Chromebook SD card slot bypassing the adaptor, but as I tried to remove the archive card from the slot I lost control of it and it sprung out of the slot and pinged on the radiator before disappearing from sight. Then I dropped the card from the camera, adding to the chaos. 

We heaved the furniture around and searched with a torch. The camera card was soon found, but not the archive card. I guessed that as it wasn't on the floor, it could have fallen into a box of assorted stuff under a side table. In adjusting a standard lamp to shine into the box, it short circuited with a bang and sparks. The lamp's wiring arrangement wasn't designed with the flexibility I assumed. When I inspected the box of stuff under a bright LED reading lamp, the missing archive SD card was clearly visible in a corner. The standard lamp's successor will be more suitable - brighter and adjustable.

That really was enough chaos and stress for one day. Let's see if I can get to sleep without any nightmares.

Recovering

Another good night's sleep, waking up refreshed, clear and sharp, though still feeling a bit light headed. A mild, bright sunny day for the autumn equinox. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's after breakfast and bought some church garden tomatoes and courgettes from Hilary at coffee and chat afterwards. It's such a relief no longer needing to be vigilant about taking slow release capsules that upset my digestive system after breakfast and supper. I had a one o'clock acupuncture appointment. It was a rush to get there on time, even with an early lunch. No dyspepsia afterwards!

Peter was pleased to hear about the difference that stopping the dipyridamole prescription had made. He had suggested my reaction to it was due to sensitivity to such a strong drug and that it was worth posing the question to the medics about changing it. I felt less light headed after he treated me today, comfortable in my own skin with a spring in my step when I left him. Although I didn't feel tired I slept in my armchair for a while when I got home, but went out again later and walked up and down Llandaff Fields to complete my daily distance.

After supper I watched this week's episode of 'Ludwig' and rather than watching anything else I decided to go to bed.

A new start

I woke up refreshed from a good eight hours of relaxed sleep for the first time in a year without discomfort from an irritable bowel or bladder awake only for an hour - my first night without aggressive medication working its way through my body upsetting my digestive system. I'm slightly light headed but without feeling faint or drowsy. Clare thinks the buttock wound has closed.  I'll wear a dressing a bit longer as a precaution. Her study group arrived after breakfast so I stayed in the front room and worked on transcribing my Ulster travel diary until lunchtime.

The meditation group Clare belongs to met chez nous this afternoon. I joined the two that came. Two more gave their apologies. I went for a walk after lunch before the session started. It was good to experience an  improvement in open air spatial awareness in the absence of the drug which has had such a soporific effect over the nine months I've been taking it. I didn't go to sleep during meditation and kept focus on the text chosen from Isaiah 30.15, 'In returning and rest you shall be saved, in quietness and trust shall be your strength.' So my concentration is better too. What a blessing, hallelujah!

A tea time shopping trip to Tesco's for chicken, kefir and a bunch of roses for Clare, and after supper a short walk in the dark to stretch my legs and complete my step quota for the day. I watched the last episode of 'Marbella' again as I wasn't sure if I understood how the conclusion was reached, nor for that matter what the point was of the anti-hero dodgy lawyer's apologia for his support role in the glitzy world of organised Costa del Sol crime. Was this comic irony? Re-watching left me none the wiser. Then I watched another episode of 'Ludwig', quirky, funny, very much a British whodunnit. A world of difference.

All too soon, bed time after a drug free day, although I have been straightforwardly light headed. I wonder if this will wear off when the dipyridamole is completely out of my system, or if it's the aftermath of the stroke and the terrible time I had in hospital? It's a matter of wait and see.

Unexpected relief

Waking up after a good night's sleep to a hazy sky and pale autumnal sunshine. St Matthew's feast day today, the evangelist whose story has accompanied and maybe influenced me throughout the years of my ordained ministry. I'm annoyed with myself for omitting to lay the breakfast table before going to bed last night. It's a routine in which preparing the next day's medication is embedded, a discipline to counter forgetfulness, but tiredness got the better of me last night. An odd start to the day for Clare as well. After eating breakfast she started preparing to welcome her study group, thinking it was Tuesday. We're both creatures of routine. How does this happen? If we'd been listening to the nine o'clock news perhaps we'd have noticed the Monday morning discussion programme 'Start the Week' was broadcasting. It was interesting with a philosophic exchange between physicist Carlo Rovelli and poet Lavinia Greenlaw. 

Rovelli's new book 'The Equality of all Things' asks what can we really know about the world around us, whether from observation or mathematical theorising. He remind us of the many angles from which we consider anything and everything - he uses the example of a glass of water, its chemistry and physical properties, the function of water in biology, economics, in cosmic evolution. There are many simple factual ways to describe what we see. A poet's imagination adds more ways of describing how we perceive and understand the same glass of water. Rovelli doesn't speak about the mystery of existence as such, but says that ideas of reality are shaped by a continuous play of reflections illuminating each other. Even so, how we choose to describe things matters. In describing things we interpret them to ourselves, give them meaning and purpose, enter into the creative process simply by observing creation itself. The question is - where does this take us next? And how?

My head was clear until I took my meds, with breakfast. Then light headed drowsiness slowed me down and blunted my perception of everything. I jotted down a few notes about symptoms to take with me to the doctors this afternoon, then pushed myself to work on compiling transcribed chapters of 'Esmeralda and the Magus' into a single Word document. It's a slow task - copying and pasting files formatted on a word processor from twenty five years ago, full of redundant hard spaces and carriage returns needing to be removed. In addition there are small consistent typos running through the text due to a touch typist trained on mechanical machines not fully used to an AT digital keyboard. I'm editing the text as I go. Reviewing it can wait until later.

Clare cooked mackerel with veg for lunch. I snoozed for a while afterwards then walked to the surgery for my appointment. Dr Jordan reported on her discussion with the stroke treatment team. It's acknowledged my sensitivity to the dipyridamole is doing me more harm than good, so I no longer have to continue taking it. I continue taking aspirin. No alternative medication is proposed. I could hardly believe what she was saying, and concluded that as long as I keep taking the statin and aspirin, the risk of another stroke or a coronary after a year is much lower as long as my blood pressure stays under control. I hope that's the case anyway. Such good news, what a relief!

Clare went to a Welsh conversation group after an early supper. I walked for three quarters of an hour in Llandaff Fields. Rachel called me on my way home and we chatted for an hour. She's settling into her new abode in Cottonwood. It's a smaller space that she has all her worldly goods crammed into, but the beauty of the rural setting compensates for this. I'm wondering how recovery from discontinuing dipyridamole will affect me as I go to bed tonight.

Unfinished rediscovered

A good night's sleep again, waking up to hazy clouds and sunshine. Today is the fifty seventh anniversary of my ordination to the diaconate, when I was made a 'Clerk in holy Orders' and wore a clerical collar for the first time. 

I never felt comfortable about being a Minister of Religion identified by a uniform, preferring to be known personally by relationships made as a pastor in the community I served. I gave up the clerical collar altogether when we lived in Geneva where a legacy by-law banning the wearing of clerical garb in public was no longer enforced. It was common for Catholic and Protestant clergy to wear a cross with civilian clothes and that was what I did. As I have withdrawn from public ministry over the past year,  I've not done this. There's no longer a need to make myself visible to strangers as a pastor. I used to feel it was a special kind of witness to advertise myself as an approachable trustworthy person of good-will by wearing a cross, but somehow it doesn't matter now. I'm not ashamed of what I am, or what I was when I dedicated my life to the service of the Gospel and other people, but what have I to offer now with my attention and concentration randomly impaired by the medication I take?

At the end of the St Catherine's Eucharist this morning Fr Sion told the congregation about yesterday's brief encounter and I was given a brief round of congratulatory applause. I felt embarrassed by this. I don't think I've taken a Sunday service since Sion became our parish priest. In that time there's been a turnover in congregational members and young families. Few of them know who I am and vice versa. It's mainly the older long standing members who have been on the receiving end of my ministry. With the passage of time, I become a stranger in my home church. It's also true of the turnover of neighbours in our street. Time passes, people change, things change.

It was one of those days when the medication left me feeling so drowsy after lunch the only thing I felt I could do to overcome it was walking in the park. Our friend Marc was giving a violin recital on Penarth Pier. I didn't feel well enough to go with her.  I didn't think I could sit through a concert without falling asleep, so Clare went to Penarth by taxi on her own. Walking for an hour was an effort physically tiring as if my body was complaining after a night out on the dance floor. Another toxic side effect with the medication. I have a GP appointment tomorrow to discuss my referral for a medication review. I have no idea what this entails as it's not with a medication specialist.

After suppper, I watched another episode of 'Marbella'. Then Rachel called. She told me that during her move she found the original typed copy of my novel for kids 'Esmeralda and the Magus' which Kay the church secretary in Halesowen transcribed into a digital version twenty five years ago. I never got around to combining the separate chapters into one file, but the original digital transcripts have been tucked away on my hard drive archive ever since. Now that's another task awaiting me, combining and editing them into a publishable version. Before I think about doing more I must get some sleep. I'm tired tonight. 

Full circle

A good night's sleep, a damp cloudy morning, pancakes for breakfast. The meds didn't have such a strong soporific impact on me today, Don't know why. I went shopping for cooking apples and cauliflower before lunch. A memory from student days surfaced and surprised me, learning to make a sauce for a cauliflower cheese dish under Clare's supervision on the little stove she shared with others in Manor Hall Clifton, sixty years ago. Some elements of basic cooking I learned at home and in the Boy Scouts. Others I learned as a student when I got together with Clare. 

When I returned from the greengrocer's, I found Clare was making a cheese flan for lunch. While I was waiting to have my gall bladder removed I dare not eat eggs or cheese on their own or in any combination. Eighteen months later, I can eat cheese and even cheese flan without distressing my digestion. I'm OK with eggs in cake and pancakes, but have yet to try boiled or scrambled eggs and omelettes. I'm proceeding with caution, enjoying familiar food tastes anew, as long as I don't overdo it.

I slept for half an hour after lunch, then went out for a walk. Today is the fifty-sixth anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood by Archbishop Glyn Simon in Llandaff Cathedral, so I made a pilgrimage there, visited the cemetery and prayed where he and two of his successors are buried. On my way I met Fr Sion and his wife and daughter taking their dog for a walk, and told them where I was headed.

I have so much to give thanks for over those years as an 'Ambassador for Christ' at home and abroad, as an urban missioner in multi-cultural inner city communities in Birmingham Bristol and Cardiff, as a pastor in expatriate congregations in Switzerland, France and Spain, as an itinerant adult educator representing USPG all over Wales. Such a variety of experiences and opportunities in my working life and as a voluntary priest in retirement. And now in my latter years, I'm on the receiving end, back where I started, a member of the laity, praying in the pew, waiting on God for whatever comes next.

After supper, we watched another episode of Kabul, which seems agonisingly slow in its portrayal of panic chaos and menace, as Afghans and expats attempt to flee the country as the Taliban take control of the country. Then, I watched an episode and a half of 'Beck' until it was time for bed.

Ulster visits recalled

It seems like I'm settling into a more consistent pattern of seven and a half to eight hours of sleep a night. It doesn't stop the meds from causing light headedness, drowsiness and slowing my thinking.  For the most part my head is clear enough to enable me to cope with the ill effects, but it frustrates efforts to live at my natural relaxed pace. 

I received a message from my old friend Frank in Puerto Rico responding to a photo I found of Barbara his first wife, taken on our wedding day in 1966. He reminisced about a seaside family holiday they shared with us when our children were young. Barbara was living with a brain tumour which reached crisis point when we were together. She had to be air lifted to London's Guy's Hospital for treatment. We looked after their son Sasha who continued playing on the beach with our girls while Frank was away. Later I assisted at Barbara's funeral. She was Roman Catholic and it was a ground breaking privilege to be invited to take part at that time, soon after Vatican II.

I spent time before lunch transcribing a couple of pages of my Northern Ireland travel diary, in particular a section describing my ascent of Slieve Donard. I didn't have a camera at that time so there are no photos to remind me of the beauty I sought to express in my account. Memories of staying in Northern Ireland are rather vague fifty years on. I did two summer locum stints in Newcastle. Frank, Barbara and Sasha were with us on one occasion, but which one I can't work out. The travel diary is from 1974 so probably it was in 1973, as the 1974 text ends speculating about a return from chaplaincy to parish ministry.

Clare cooked butternut squash and broccoli to go with fish for a potato free lunch. I went Jason's greengrocers after eating to buy some blueberries, then walked in Llandaff Fields. After supper, another episode of 'Kabul', then Ashley rang for a chat, followed by Rachel as she drove to buy an item of kitchen furniture. The signal was so poor and intermittent, it sometimes stretched a gap between syllables in a word. Bizarre transmission latency. 

I stated watching an episode of Swedish crimmie 'Beck', a new season, but it was longer than I expected and stopped half way, as I didn't want to go to bed late.

Stiff fingers

Despite going to bed late I slept well, over eight hours, with the bedroom window open. It gave me a fairly clear headed start to the day, but by mid morning medication side effects closed in on me like bad weather, slowing me down, affecting my spatial awareness, making me feel nervous when on my feet.

In the day's news, Iranian backed Houthi forces have made significant advances, taking control of the Yemeni coastline and the Bab al Mandeb gateway to the Red Sea. The pipeline which made it possible to export Saudi oil using this route is out of action after a missile strike. With traffic through the Straight of Hormuz restricted and vulnerable to attack, the price of oil has risen further with widespread economic impacts especially on fuel prices.

Trump claims optimistically that Iran is open to a peace deal. It's impossible to believe anything he says. He's trying to cheer up voters ahead of the US mid-term elections at a time when his popularity is at an all time low. The US Congress has voted for the third time to halt progress in the war without its approval, with some Republicans voting with Democrats. The war has cost America $38 billion so far and depleted its military arsenal. Unfortunately Trump can veto any war time decision Congress makes, but the longer the conflict continues and inflation rises, the less likely Trump will be re-elected when the time comes.

I made an effort to play my Tatay guitar today. Remembering chords and melodies wasn't a concern but my left hand and fingers are so stiff that it's much harder to stretch them and press down on the finger board to make clean chord shapes and change them in the correct sequence when playing a piece of music I recall. Serves me right for failing to play for so long, not to mention cutting my fingernails. The Tatay is over sixty years old and has a beautiful mature resonant sound. It holds memories of music-making stretching back over my entire adult life. What a treasure!

We had cold pre-cooked sausages and veg for lunch, then went into town together to find a replacement for the broken metal foil in my electric razor. I remember seeing them on sale a few years ago. Neither Boots nor John Lewis had them in stock. Now it seems they are only available on-line. We had a cup of tea in John Lewis' top floor restaurant, and then returned home.

After supper we watched another episode of 'Kabul'. Then I watched the finale of 'Vigil' - a happy ending of sorts, but I'm not quite sure how it was reached as yet another layer of criminal conspiracy was exposed on top of the spy stories embedded in previous episodes - never mind, bed time already.