Registration sorted

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

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

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

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

 

Fond memories of Switzerland

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

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

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

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

Welsh Electoral application form shambles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Digital weeding, mental fatigue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody is above the law

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

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

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

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

Losing things

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

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

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

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

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

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

The passing of a prophet for our age

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

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

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

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

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

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

Windy Monday

So good to wake up to sunshine and blue sky, after a night disturbed by worries about making a complaint to OFCOM about TalkTalk's incompetent handling of closing our broadband account. It's hard to focus if the meds are messing with your ability to think. I had a message from Sara to say she'd arrived home after travelling for twenty four hours.

I went to the GP surgery after breakfast with my prescription renewal form, conscious that it can take 48 hours to process the request, I'll have run out of meds before then. I think the staff were aware of the email I sent about the surgery website glitch. I was relieved of the paper renewal forms, and told the prescription would be ready at two this afternoon. It seems a new electronic system is being put into place with the pharmacy across the Kings Road, so that it will be possible for patients to renew prescriptions directly. I'm not sure how this will work. Another phone app probably.

As I approached the surgery entrance, I stopped to allow a woman to pass in front of me. On the whole I'm steady on my feet. I feel less agile at the moment due to the impact of the meds so I'm extra cautious when moving around outdoors. A violent blast of wind nearly blew me over. I just avoided a collision that would have toppled both of us. Quite unnerving. On the way home, empty rubbish bins that had been blown over obstructed the pavement. Pedestrians were walking past them with prams, on the edge of the pavement with traffic approaching them from behind, too close for comfort given the random gusts of wind. Weather warning phone apps cannot protect anyone on foot if they disregard potential hazards in their environment.

After the surgery, I went to Tesco's for a few groceries. I bought a packet of rye flour, as Clare was half way through preparing a batch of mixed grain bread when she realised she'd run out. I bought slices of turkey breast from the fresh meat chiller compartment. I haven't seen turkey meat on sale post Christmas for many years. I popped them in the oven to slow roast when I got home.

After a veggie pasta lunch, I returned to the GP surgery to collect my prescription, and was told that the meds request had been emailed to the pharmacy and would be ready for collection. I received three out of the four items prescribed and must return for the fourth tomorrow afternoon. I was given Clare's Cal-cd prescription to take home with me as well. I picked up a leaflet from the counter announcing the switch to electronic prescription ordering, with information about the phone app, and relevant website. One less piece of paper to lose at the eleventh hour. I just have to be sure not to misplace my phone!

By this afternoon the ill effect of my meds was less pronounced than usual, interfering less with thinking, and I was less sleepy than before despite losing an hour's sleep last night. Does it have anything to do with switching to chamomile tea I wonder? It is regarded for its mild anti-hypertensive and diuretic properties and as a soporific. I've noticed that I don't pee quite such a large volume in the night. I guess I'll find out in the course of time.

I went out for a teatime walk and forgot to put on my smart watch which had been on charge. I used my phone's pedometer to make a guesstimate of my walk in Llandaff Fields, to make sure I spent enough time exercising, even if it won't be on record - a bit obsessive I know, but I know that discipline keeps me fit. That's what counts.

After supper, I got to work on collecting digital photos of Rhiannon since birth, from several albums, to use for a 21st birthday slideshow video. A fiddly job to say the least. Tomorrow I'll enlist Clare's help to record a sound track. Talyaan has requested a selection of video material to turn into a birthday compilation. Heavens - how 21 years just slips by!

Under the weather

Another cold day interspersed with showers and gusts of wind. I woke up to a series of brief WhatsApp messages charting Sara's progress through the night and all day in terrible wet weather - Cardiff, Bristol, Schipol Paris, Gothenburg, with cancellations, delays and long waits  A miserable ending to a delightful weekend. And for Sara, a new job to start tomorrow, exhausted.

Last night I couldn't find the GP's prescription renewal document for meds I will need next week. I don't know where it went after unpacking the parcel containing it two weeks ago. I visited the GP website to request a new prescription, an was greeted by a security alert, as the secure page authorisation had not been updated. I took a screenshot and emailed it to the surgery, but will need to visit the surgery on Monday and ask that a new prescription request be dealt with urgently 

I had quite a good night's sleep, but the poisonous effect of the meds has left me feeling tired and unwell for most of the day. It's so daunting. We walked in the rain to St Catherine's for the Eucharist after breakfast. There were about thirty of us in church. As it's half term, there were no children attending Sunday Club this week.

After lunch I found myself falling asleep at the table, and went to bed for an hour before going out for a walk. I told Kath that I had still not received a bill from TalkTalk. She persuaded Owain to call and help me with an outline draft of a complaint letter for OFCOM, but I couldn't deal with it with a drug dulled brain.

When my mind did clear sufficiently to think and work without making mistakes, I had to focus on next Wednesday's Morning Prayer in case I become too poorly to get any work done. It's Ash Wednesday this week. I recorded and edited the audio I needed, and after supper made the video slideshow for uploading to YouTube. It was a slow process, taking up much of the evening. 

When tidying books and papers on a lounge side table, the missing prescription turned up, in an unexpected pile of stuff. Prescription panic over now, thank heavens! 

I was glad to take refuge in bed early before report of Sara's arrival home made my phone buzz. Peace of mind now. 

Fight cancellation equals travel chaos

Sara arrived from Elgano's to have breakfast with us at nine this morning. Thankfully she had a good night's sleep in her hotel.. I had just got up and taken my meds, after a night's sleep with less wakefulness than usual. I woke up refreshed, but the benefit was soon lost due to the impact of the meds. Sara went to town after  we'd eaten, to hunt for a Cardiff souvenir for Ebba. 

Clare and I met her at the Halfway pub on her return and went for a walk, talking about many things non-stop. So many things to share face to face rather than write to each other about. It was cold and dry. We went to Llandaff Cathedral where Sara took a photo of the nave which is now her phone's home screen wallpaper. We had coffee and cake in Jasper's tea room. 

Sara took a moment to check in for tomorrow's KLM flight home to Gothenberg, and was shocked to find it had been cancelled. She was re-routed from Bristol to Schipol, Schipol to Paris and then Paris to Gothenberg. To get to Bristol in time for an early flight means taking a very early 04.25 coach to Bristol, leaving Elgano's at 4.00, thankfully five minutes walk away. What a horror!

I cooked lunch when we got back, then we sat and talked all afternoon and had an early supper. She left us for the hotel at seven to catch as much sleep as possible, to be ready for a home journey as long as a transatlantic flight, starting so early in the day, so we parted company tonight, not midday tomorrow as planned. 

Sara starts a new job on Monday. She had to call her new boss to inform him about her predicament, just in case anything else happens to delay her on the first day of classes after half-term. Then calls with each of her parents and her husband, to tell them what had happened. A lot of Swedish was spoken at home this afternoon!

It was wonderful to spend quality time together after all these years. Sara and I met in Geneva just before Clare and I moved to Monte Carlo 25 years ago, so it's a special anniversary year in a friendship sustained by correspondence. This was her third visit in all that time. I've never visited Sweden and may never do so sadly. 

We talked so much during this reunion filled with insight for me, I didn't realise how tired I was until she'd left and the house descended into quiet. She just messaged me to say good night God bless. I must now finish the day and get to bed.

Sensitivity

Good to see blue sky this morning, despite a population of smaller clouds. More wet weather warnings, but a dry start to the day. Sara slept well in Elgano's hotel and turned up for breakfast at nine. She needed a little navigational help by phone, having walked here in the dark last night. It's the same problem as I had last night finding the access road to the Coach station in the dark. 

Still deeply tired from yesterday with insufficient sleep to recover well, the morning meds made me feel terrible. I went out and walked for an hour to clear my head and met Clare with Sara on their way into town for souvenir shopping. I fell asleep in my armchair for another hour before lunch, then cooked tomatoes and mushrooms to eat with a couple of slices of toast. Sara and Clare returned from town and we spent time chatting and drinking tea. 

We went early to Stefano's for supper. The food was good, but the noise of guests arriving, and table talk against a background of Italian pop ballads made conversation difficult. It wasn't so much being unable to hear, but hearing too much of an assortment of sounds, unable to distinguish and concentrate on listening to soft spoken Sara across the table. There were too many distractions to filter out and process quickly enough to maintain the conversation thread adequately. It's worse with a tired slow acting brain. Dining out is something I don't look forward to these days. We were back home by seven, and Sara returned to her hotel, tired after a stimulating, active day. I spent the rest of the evening reflecting on the day, starting to acknowledge the way the stroke has made me realise just how sensitive I am. It's something I hid from myself behind behaviour learned to cope with overwhelming and painful stimulus. Brain slowdown sabotaged my ability to cope and unmasked the extent of my sensitivity and how I haven't lived with it as well as I could by fully acknowledging it.

The world we inhabit is toxic to sensitive people. It's geared to over stimulation, aimed at retaining attention to promote ideas or products, not allowing enough space to feel free in, and think things through quietly. The struggle is exhausting from the mental effort to make sense of and comply with a plethora of demands and stimuli life throws at them. The problem is that people get stigmatised for being 'different' The culture and environment they inhabit and react to makes them turn in on themselves and disengage or hyper-react defending sensitivity they are socialised to ignore and repress. It's less difficult to look after yourself well, as you learn what kind of person you are, and accept you are not only a child of God, but also a gift and blessing to others, just as you are and were meant to be. That's a lot to take in and sleep on.

No answers

 Up at seven thirty getting ready to walk to an appointment for medical tests at St David's Hospital. I was five minutes late, but worse than that had been given an eight thirty appointment which was incorrectly communicated to me. The nurse was looking for me in the lobby, a familiar face and voice. Catherine the acupuncturist who worked on me a decade ago, whose daughter Clare taught in the Steiner school. Quite a surprise! She steered me through a series of procedures to assess mobility, general fitness, cognition, an electro cardio graph, blood pressure tested standing, sitting and lying down. What with the conversations between tests, my blood pressure as usual was scarily high. I got to see an expert geriatric consultant, to go through the results. The conversation was intense and I was able to vent my frustration at being given medication that makes me feel ill every day, not better. I learned that I needed a blood test while fasting to assess my cholesterol, so I will get an appointment for that. I need to know if the statins I am obliged to take are justified by my actual cholesterol levels. The surgery didn't propose this. 

I will have to wear a blood pressure monitor 24/7 for a week to assess how 'normal' are the spikes and troughs in my blood pressure readings. I did this ten years ago and that delivered no useful information. I just hope newer kit will work more consistently. My night's sleep is broken enough already without the disturbance of being strapped to an uncomfortable machine. Blood tests were taken. No change in medication for now until the data provides an overall picture of my health condition to work from. I was told the clot dispersal meds are a life sentence, despite the havoc they wreak on my intestines, and the leaky wounds that are the result of taking them. Diet and exercise are what's needed to promote health. The impact of the meds deprives me of two to three hours' sleep a night and that is doing me no good whatsoever. No answers that would improve my quality of life. No wonder I still feel angry and resentful. The medics seem unconcerned that sleep loss is impeding my recovery, and affecting my mental health and well being. 

It was after two when I got home. Clare had already eaten after her morning eye appointment, so I cooked a veggie pasta dish for myself, then slept for a couple of hours. While waiting for her afternoon flight Sara and I started exchanging messages,  worried about the transfer to the Cardiff coach. It worked perfectly, and I went to meet her at Sophia Gardens at seven fifteen. The coach station has bad lighting and signage. I know the location well, but it was so dark, that with my visual impairment and fatigue, I had trouble identifying and reaching the arrival area. Sara was off the coach and I had to call her in order to make contact. Once we'd found each other drizzle turned into proper light rain. Then we walked to the Elgano Guest House where she is staying to check in, then home for supper. For her it was an hour later, so she left us by taxi at nine, and will be back for breakfast at nine tomorrow. I'm exhausted after a demanding day both physically and mentally, so tired my typo count is high, like my blood pressure. I need sleep, lots of it.

Kath on the case

Another damp and overcast day, but not much rain. I slept badly, losing sleep rehearsing things I needed to take care of today, but eventually woke up clear headed and sharp to start with. I posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to the Parish WhatsApp prayer thread when I got up for breakfast at eight. 

The toxic impact of the meds was not as pronounced as has been before until I started to tire in the afternoon. i made a start on writing a Reflection for next week when it's Ash Wednesday and completed it late in the day. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. Eleven of us at today's service. I cooked lunch while Clare was out shopping, then went for a walk in the park after eating. I asked Kath's help in contacting TalkTalk to ask for a copy of our final account bill, which I think may need challenging. She certainly succeeded in getting results I despaired of getting. While I was walking in the park at sunset. She tracked the TalkTalk equipment return parcel to its destination from the Post Office receipt. I'd been unable to figure out how to extract this info. 

She obtained screenshot evidence that parcel delivery had been fulfilled. She then set about contacting TalkTalk accounts, logging into their website and using their default direct messaging app to pursue her request for a final account closing bill. The login process using my personal credentials established on their system, rejected my password to hinder the process of gaining access. Exactly the same frustration I had with it that led me to close my user unfriendly TalkTalk account.

Kath did get through and accessed the Direct Messaging app. She was able to download the record of exchanges which I was unable to do. I'm promised a paper bill in a week or so, but am unsure I'll receive a .pdf version as well. I'm promised a phone call from their accounts office about the final account bill.  Kath has found the necessary evidence to support our demand for an explanation of the large direct debit. There's a strong likelihood this call will happen before I have a copy of the bill to scrutinise.

Ashley and I had a long conversation about this affair and he said there were several breaches of consumer legislation in the way this issue has been dealt with by TalkTalk giving grounds for legal action against the company, and these would support a complaint made to OFCOM. Processing all this information, given  how tired I am today, was overwhelming. I need a respite from thinking in order to recover and prepare for whatever comes next.

After supper I watched a couple of undemanding episodes of 'Patience' to relax before bed. All round medical examination first thing in the morning. Stayed up too late again. 

Awful day

Intermittent rain all day. I slept badly, only five hours, troubled by the discovery of the large amount of money direct debited from my bank account by TalkTalk yesterday, having not received a final bill from account closure a month ago. 

BT sent a notification of our incoming first bill. I failed to remember which bank account that direct debit would come out of and went to open the My BT app on my phone to find out. It responded to the pass code I set OK, but I couldn't locate destination bank details. I closed and then re-opened the app to check elsewhere, and the app demanded a password instead of the code. It's a very strong one, and I may have mis-typed it. It took me to a 'captcha' page requiring me to identify bicycles in a grid of images puzzle to prove I'm not a robot. The images weren't sharp enough and far too small to recognise the correct number even with specs on. So I was locked out. Added to this, the daily meds made me so light headed and slow thinking I was struggling to cope verbally when I called the BT help line and explained the problem. 

Identifying myself was a nightmare. I was sent a security code by SMS and email, but neither came through. I had to spend ten minutes giving other i/d details verbally to get recognised. The assistant was able to remind me of the account info I needed. One less thing to worry about. The security code email arrived an hour after the call ended. Network latency generating panic. It's easy to see how cyber attacks cause panic and confusion. Digital technology has made us a cruel rod for our backs.

It turned out that I needed to visit a BT/EE shop in town to get help to sort out the problem. This gave me two reasons to go into town pronto. It wasn't easy navigating the streets, dragging my feet, prematurely tired. After a late panic stricken breakfast I went on the bus . First to HSBC to cancel the TalkTalk direct debit, where an advisor gave me phone numbers to call TalkTalk and demand a copy of the final bill and an explanation for the exorbitant sum. Not a task I look forward to. Next to BT/EE where a demure young lady about Jasmine's age did the phone trouble shooting with me to reinstate pass code access.

Drizzle turned into heavy rain on the way home. My rain jacket got soaked while walking from the bus to home. Clare had been out at a study group, but returned before me and cooked pasta for lunch, before going out to meditation group. I slept for an hour, then walked in the rain until sunset, which cleared my head of the worst effects of the medication. Two jackets to dry out overnight. 

I spent the evening after supper making tomorrow's Morning Prayer video slideshow, later than usual as I was recording a chapter of the Lent Book last Tuesday. It disrupted my routine and I didn't get around to finishing the job. It meant going to bed late with my brain taking ages to slow down. I find that working late doesn't do me any good nowadays

Sharp practice

Yet another overcast, damp and drizzly day. In the news Aberdeen was reported as being covered by cloud continuously for three weeks. Wind from the west has given Wales occasional clear sky days in that time. I wish the medication clouding my brain each day at the moment would go away. It starts within an hour of taking morning meds at nine and doesn't clear until tea time, if not later.

There was a bank statement in the morning's post with a deduction of £171 taken by TalkTalk. I've had no final account statement paper document , nor digital notification email to enable me to question this final figure. I had expected a final bill for the second half of December and up to 9th January when the account closed, line rental amounting to £40 - £50. I have proof I returned TalkTalk's equipment in December. This really upset me. 

Kath sent me a link to BBC's 'You and Yours' consumer programme to tell the story to their Watchdog team. It took me three hours to write a detailed account in an email and copies of supporting evidence. I received an acknowledgement, but there's no guarantee the Watchdog team will investigate. 

Many of my written exchanges with TalkTalk over the past five months were by Direct Message. I was unsuccessful in copying or downloading any of these as a record of the process, I couldn't find a means to do so. There is a separate trail of SMS messages relating to several complaints I've made which TalkTalk alleges were resolved. These are linked to some kind of on-line dispute resolution service for which I have neither had time or patience to follow up, or contest. Life is too short for that, especially when you're unwell. Making the procedure opaque is a sure way to deter clients from pursuing any further. 

If anyone is unable to make a copy of messages coming from the TalkTalk Direct Messaging server to support contention over the 'resolved' complaint, it becomes too daunting to pursue.  The same applies when money is taken from your account before receiving and agreeing an itemised final bill. I have proof of postage for my return of TalkTalk equipment. There's no reason why I should be charged for non-return if it got lost in transit or at the recycling warehouse. No reason for not mailing me a paper copy of the final account. In cancelling my TalkTalk service back in December I was informed I'd lose my TalkTalk email address which I hardly ever used. There would be no reason to email a final bill to that address, unless to make the final reckoning more opaque. They already have a record of my Gmail account for security purposes. This issue is either a matter of monumental administrative incompetence or malpractice. I'm hoping the 'You and Yours' team will look into this. This would support a complaint to OFCOM or make one on my behalf. We'll see.

It was gone four by the time I went out for a walk. I certainly needed fresh air and exercise after sending this story to 'You and Yours'. It started to rain, and gusts of wind as it was getting dark made an effort to break my brolly detaching the handle section from the rest. Not a pleasant evening. A troubling day feeling out of control of this faceless situation and angry with its impositions. I hope I can sleep tonight.

Imagining creation

Cloudy again but no rain until sunset. We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, which included an infant baptism. There were about sixty of us present, including children. Today in the church's lectionary is Creation Sunday when Genesis chapter one is read. It's a wonderful poetic ritualistic account of the Word at work, commanding order to emerge out of primeval chaos represented by water. First a cosmic bubble is made, as the setting in which the rest of God's creative activity unfolds. I started pondering on what experience prompted this metaphor. Did rhia come from having one's head under water with eyes open? 

Then what about the passage on the third day of creation where God declares 'Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let dry land appear.' Watching a rock emerge from the sea as the tide goes out might prompt this metaphor, but the poet would more likely have been observing water level changes as a flood subsides in the river Euphrates, revealing banks of silt built up by the current, and then their development into small islands colonised by sprouting vegetation that stabilises them. 

Progression from simple chaos to complex life and ecosystems is described by the poet, interpreted as ordered by the divine Word. It's not speculation but observation of the real world in the language of ancient poetry. It's not allegory. Architecture and managing construction isn't mentioned as part of the divine identity. Only God's voice is mentioned. This poet doesn't anthropomorphise the author of the material world. 'In the beginning was the Word ...' as St John summarises creation, some time later in biblical history.

The morning meds had a bad effect on me, feeling light headed and slightly faint again despite drinking extra water to counteract the impact. It could be that I'm peeing out slightly more than I drink, slowly dehydrating without realising. need even more water to maintain the right balance. My stomach feels full when I've drunk what I believe is enough fluid. It's making my life a misery.

We went for a walk after lunch, down to Blackweir Bridge, then crossing over the Taff and walking the muddy path through Bute Park woods down to and over the Millennium Bridge and calling in to the Pedal Power cafe for an excellent cup of coffee on the way back. It was open later than the usual winter opening time as cyclists were gathering for a lantern walk/ride at dusk. Several two seat tricycles were decked out with large decorative lanterns, carnival style. One of them carried a paper lantern in the image of a large white swan. The procession goes round the park and some streets in the vicinity including people with disabilities, carers and cycling activists. A lovely community based initiative. 

By the time we got home at six we'd both walked 10 kilometres today. It was only towards the end of our walk that my head cleared and my legs unstiffened. I look forward to this Wednesday's 'medical MOT' to discuss with someone knowledgeable about this. After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Patience' before heading for bed.

Privacy misused - a cloak for wrongdoing

Another damp and cloudy day. I slept fairly well, and the meds didn't have such a toxic light headed effect on me. Instead of pancakes for breakfast, Clare cooked drop scones. Although there's an egg in the recipe, they didn't disagree with my digestion, apart from a slight aftertaste  A pleasant change. 

Once more the morning news was dominated by reports of the fallout from publication of documents exposing the reach of corrupt financier Geoffrey Epstein's discreet sex crime network. Revelations about the private lives of wealthy high status people including financiers, politicians, diplomats and royalty, has brought public disgrace upon them. 

The often controversial reputation of Peter Mandelson, appointed as US ambassador and later sacked, is an embarrassment for the prime minister, calling into question his sense of judgement. Mandelson has quit the Labour Party and resigned from the House of Lords. He is now being investigated for misconduct in public office, after the disclosure that he leaked market sensitive information to benefit Epstein during the 2008 financial crisis. It's being described as a betrayal of his country. 

So much political life and the process of government happens behind the scenes in private or in secrecy to avoid misleading the public, or to hinder the distortion of information to raise fear uncertainty and doubt. Everyone has a right to privacy to protect their reputation and social standing, but it can be misused, serve a screen to conceal wrong doing. The lust for wealth, status and power can easily tempt individuals to act only in their own interests and lead to immoral decisions and actions, if there's little prospect of exposure and being called to account. When it comes to exclusive networks of rich influential people, corruption can spread far and wide without being challenged. 

In these secularised times, worship of our Creator and accountability to One who is above and beyond all that exists has been supplanted by worship of self centred ego, accountable to nobody other than those we choose to acknowledge, whom we know or are known by. A sense of right and wrong, of what is just and wicked gets perverted by unhealthy appetites and impulses, constructing an illusory sense of self, preserved by avoiding the scrutiny of moral judgement, by secretly getting away with behaviour few if any regard as beneficial. 

The biblical story of Adam's Fall is understood to describe rebellion against God's will in the name of freedom and knowledge, as the primary cause of human suffering. Human beings learn from experience to discern the difference between what is just and good, or what is unjust and wicked. We have a choice to take between the life giving path to divine blessing and mortal chaos. When Adam and Eve realise they are naked, they feel ashamed of themselves. No hiding place for them from their rebellious naughtiness. No secrets, only unwelcome consequences.

We had salmon soup for lunch, as we do when we receive our periodic fish delivery order from Ashton's. Clare fell soundly asleep in her armchair when we'd eaten, so I went out for a walk. When she woke up and saw I'd gone out, she sent me a message asking where I was and saying she'd taken the bus into town to exchange a coat she purchased yesterday. I was meant to go with her and assumed that she was too tired to go. Crossed wires unfortunately.

I cooked chestnut mushrooms on toast for supper, with a fried egg for Clare and bacon for me. Real comfort food for miserable damp weather. Another episode of 'Patience' to watch after supper, a story that first appeared in the 'Astrid - Murder in Paris' series. I'd be interested to re-watch the French version for comparison, but sleep is more appealing.

Lactose legacy

Higher cloud cover today. It's not so dull, but damp nevertheless with fine drizzle. I took soya milk kefir yoghourt with porridge oats for breakfast. The difference it made from yesterday when I had a dairy milk kefir version was noticeable. Although I was light headed and not that clear headed or sharp, my head felt  less like a headache was imminent. In addition to the effect of the meds, there's no gall bladder to process milk fats and side effects are noticeable.

After breakfast I set about making a video streaming file to enclose the Lent Book audio made last night, and posted it to WhatsApp. On checking the audio I found several minutes' worth which needed further editing. I also missed a titling error in the audio - 'retrieving Jesus' instead of 'receiving Jesus'.  I had to take down the WhatsApp posting, re-edit and upload the video to YouTube and post it again.

It's a result of being poorly and tired when I was working on the project last night, and my concentration failing. I wasn't successful in making all the changes. The tiredness in my voice was noticeable, stumbling over words, needing to repeat sentences. Not my best effort. A project I felt confident I could do turned out to be more difficult than anticipated. I bit off more than I could chew. There's only so much I can manage after losing sleep. Part of recovery has to be pushing back boundaries to learn my limits of capability. I'm not sure I understand where my limits lie. I'm so used to pushing myself hard when I no longer need to, driven by the need to make myself useful. As if that mattered as  much to other people as it does to me!

I cured the 'File error - disk full' glitch on my Dell laptop, by running its disk cleanup app. I was surprised how long it took. Successive Windows updates leave a trail of redundant temporary files, amounting to gigabytes of space being consumed uselessly.

After supper Clare wanted to watch the film 'Bohemian Rhapsody' live on Film 4, but the lack of a digital aerial for the new TV prevented this. We can only watch streamed content at the moment. So annoying that digital signal reception is so poor where we live. We need a suitable rooftop antenna or a freeview digibox. She watched the film live on the Chromebook, and I watched this week's streamed episode of Astrid on my Windows laptop. 

Miserable

Overcast with occasional showers during the day. but heavy rain after dark. I ate a hot cross bun and had some kefir with porridge oats for breakfast. A lingering sour taste on my tongue plus hours of dyspepsia told me that both were overloaded with cow's milk fats. Without a gall bladder they don't assimilate and upset my stomach. In addition the usual meds left me with 'toxic head' right through the day. I walked in the park morning and afternoon but fresh air failed to clear my head. I wonder if extra unassimilated lactose has added to miserable side effects I react badly to?

I had a phone call from someone organising medical checks for stroke victims, offering an appointment at St David's Hospital for what was described as a 'medical MOT'. This may be something requested by the GP surgery or by the consultant I contacted recently. Hopefully it will result in a proper assessment of the impact on me of the meds that are making me poorly. The downside is that it's an 8.30am appointment.

Tonight I wanted to complete the task of editing together the sections I have recorded of the Lent Book 'Retrieving Jesus' to circulate before the Lent group study of the book begins, but was frustrated by losing half the job already done to a Windows 11 file system crash which corrupted the Audacity file I worked on yesterday. I had to identify each sound byte and reconstruct the introduction sequence, bible quote and text of Chapter One rather than re-record fifty minutes worth of the book. It was far more difficult than I realised, with so many calls on short term memory, and took a couple of hours of muddling through, which made me late for bed, extra tired and frustrated and feeling poorly

The mystery of the miraculous

Blue sky, light cloud and sunshine this morning, a little warmer and no rain. A more cheering start to the day. I posted the YouTube link for Morning Prayer to WhatsApp, then got up, starting to feel light headed as usual after taking the meds.

After breakfast, an interesting programme on Radio Four from writer Matthew Syed in his 'Sideways' series, in which he explores ideas that shape our thinking from a different angle. It was about miracles. He spoke about his evangelical Christian upbringing and the offer of prayer for healing. In his experience of church life this was accompanied by miracles from time to time. He's now a non-believer. He responds to the question of whether miracles are ever compatible with scientific thinking by introducing neuroscientist Joshua Brown who was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour aged thirty, and able to examine with expert eyes evidence from his own brain scans. He made a journey to a series of churches to investigate if the ministry of healing prayer would make any difference to his condition, and if so how. In a way he was unable to explain with his medical expertise, the symptoms disappeared, the tumor stopped growing and then shrank. It was the cure he hoped for but couldn't account for. Prayer was the only thing that made a difference to him, first of all in his sense of well being and trust in the process under way, leaving him with a sense of wonder and gratitude.

Then Syed spoke about the Vatican's medical commission investigating claims of healing thanks to the intercession of saints, one of the evidence criteria in establishing a person's sanctity. The prayer of both living and dead persons is associated with cures without known scientific explanation - miracles in other words. As Pentecostalist theologian Professor Hollenweger used to say in lectures about the miraculous: "All healing comes from God. There is no healing that is not from God. The devil cannot heal, only shift symptoms." 

A healing miracle of any kind is an occurrence that opens our eyes in awe and wonder to the mystery of life and the nature of reality. Whether or not we can describe what happens, or can analyse in detail how it happens, whether or not the timing of a miraculous occurrence is deliberate or random, its timing may be the only thing ultimately beyond explanation, the essence of a divine gift from the One above and beyond all, to whom all time and eternity belongs. When the miraculous confronts us with the mysterious nature of reality. In this way we are challenged to wonder why it happens and why we are its witnesses.

We were seven at the St Catherine's Eucharist. Ann gave me a lift home after coffee. The phone reminded me half an hour too early of a lunchtime acupuncture appointment. Not enough time to eat lunch, so I grabbed a calorific snack, walked to Parkwood clinic and arrived half an hour early. I had a good session with Peter Butcher, and noticed the light headed sensation dispersed after the treatment. I returned home and ate a meal Clare kept warm for me, then recorded and edited next Wednesday's Morning Prayer audio. I went out and walked up and down Llandaff Fields before shopping for food at the Coop, and returned just after sunset. I had enough energy today to walk a full ten kilometres. It's the first time I've walked that far in a month and only the second time this year. I wrote a reflection about Titus and Paul after supper. No wonder I feel tired tonight. 

Error corrected, just in time

A grey drizzly day. It was after midnight when I got to sleep last night. It took me extra time to wind down after recording and editing late in the evening. When I prepared to say Morning Prayer I realised that I'd mistaken the date when preparing this week's prayer video due tomorrow not today. I need to re-record the correct Office before tomorrow, at least the variable sections, and edit them together with the other parts. 

My morning meds had a more pronounced effect than usual. I was sleepy and light headed until I walked in the park for three quarters of an hour. Clare's study group members arrived for their session and I spent the rest of the morning recording the correct Office for Wednesday. A slow process, juggling with half a dozen small audio files and replacing them in the sound track. Surprisingly by the time I had half finished the chore I was alert and clear headed. 

Meanwhile, Clare cooked penne with a veggie sugo for lunch. I walked in the drizzle again for another hour afterwards, and then worked on the audio edit. After supper I revised the video slide show which I made last week. It was trickier than expected, as cloud based file components were slow updating and displaying. Eventually, I uploaded the video to YouTube relieved to have noticed my mistake early enough to rectify rather than having to apologise for the omission. That's enough for today. Time for early bed.

Recording

Overcast with occasional showers this morning. I slept well and didn't wake up until nine. A reminder from Ovo Energy prompted me to renew our household energy tariff for the coming supply contract year. I understand that wholesale energy prices fluctuate, affecting our bills, there's a lot of information to check out. It's quite well presented on the website, though there's an element of ambiguity referring to accepting  the new tariff offer as a 'switch' when it's described as a  'Loyalty' tariff, which in my thinking means no change at all.

I was pleased to have an email from Dr Hughes' secretary acknowledging my message to him. It may be a while before I get to see him, but at least I can be sure of an appointment with him some time soon. 

I went out for a mid morning walk as it helps to dissipate the effect of the meds and my head stays clearer for longer if I do. I cooked lunch while Clare went to town to buy a replacement printer cartridge. Sausages with mushooms abd onion, plus veggies. 

I recorded the first chapter of 'Retrieving Jesus'. It took over an hour. The chapters are dense, lengthy with quotes and anecdotes. Will the finished product serve as an introduction to discussion on the theme of conversion? The text can be read in half the time with space in between to digest the narrative. Will anyone listen in the absence of or preference toca book in hand? Have I bitten off more than I can chew? 

I walked for nearly an hour at sunset. Then after supper continued work on editing the recorded audio. It took me three hours to reduce the file to less than an hour while Clare was out at choir. I hope I haven't overdone it. 

Quiet healing

Rain in the night, lighter showers this morning. I woke up early, and despite not sleeping long enough, felt fairly clear headed, and listened to 'Sunday Worship' on Radio Four before getting up. It was a recorded service of Morning Prayer for Candlemass from St Giles' Parish Church in Wrexham, with Froncysyllte male voice choir contributing several items. It certainly wasn't Choral Matins as we know it, but the parts recited together were clear and coherent. The homily was about the nature of waiting. 

I was slow sorting myself out after breakfast, as I had a shower and washed my hair.  I was annoyed with myself for failing to put my fitbit back on when I got dressed afterwards. It means having to guesstimate when I've had enough exercise for the day. Clare left for church before me, and was waiting for the service to start, and for me to arrive when I caught her up in St Catherine's. On time, just! The brisk walk was refreshing and helped clear away the side effects of the meds.

We were about forty adults and kids. Ordinand Jeremy preached about waiting, starting from an anecdote about the loyalty of pet dogs waiting for their deceased masters to return. Fr Sion apologised for the lack of Lent books ordered for an ecumenical study session,  but not yet supplied. 

The idea crossed my mind, of recording a chapter each week for circulation to people signed up to order the book for the course, as and when it arrives. This would give them an opportunity to prepare the session in advance. I mentioned it to Sion who agreed it would be a useful thing to do. Fortunately Fr Andrew has a copy of the book in question, and agreed to lend it to me, so I can get busy and record a reading of the first session in good time.

After lunch I went to bed and slept for a refreshing hour instead of sleeping in my armchair. Then I went for a walk as far as Sophia Gardens and back along the Taff to Llandaff Fields. The sound of a Song Thrush duetting or competing for attention with a Great Tit was enchanting, I called in to the Padel courts 'Square + Fair' cafe through the side entrance to use a toilet. While I was in a cubicle the external shutters descended noisily without me realising. It was a surreal dreamlike experience. When I came out of the toilet I found myself in a strange darkened corridor with metal walls, and wondered where I was, but didn't panic. I went along the corridor to where light was shining through a glass door. Mercifully it was open, and I entered the cafe, just about to close at sunset. 

I was reminded of the sensation of disorientation I experienced after the stroke, unable to identify where I was in surroundings familiar but unrecognisable. I felt so good about coping without bewilderment that I laughed out loud telling the barista what happened. My brain was reacting at almost normal speed to an unexpected change and I didn't panic! A healing dimension of my stroke recovery seems to be revealing itself quietly - a gift to thank God for indeed.

Before supper Fr Andrew dropped off the promised Lent book: Retrieving Jesus - the way of love, by Bishop Marianne Edgar Budde. Time to set up a laptop with my digital microphone and find out how easy it will be to configure the kit for making a good clear voice recording. This took the rest of the evening until it was time for bed.