Art Justice done

I did the week's grocery shopping this morning after breakfast. When I returned home Clare was preparing to make lunch. It's the first time in weeks that she's been able to stand comfortably and cook. It's a positive sign that her back pain is getting easier to cope with. We completed making the meal together, one step at a time. Afterwards I put the bedding plant bought yesterday into the ground in the place Clare proposed. I have no idea what it is, but it's a pretty purplish colour.

I pleased not to have fallen asleep after lunch today. In fact, I had a chat on the phone with Chris, recently retired early from ministry in the Llynfi Valley, due to imposed Ministry Area changes, making him redundant. He's not yet used to being out of the role that has occupied him for the past thirty two years, a few years short of pension age.

When I went out for my walk in the park Clare went for another acupuncture treatment. It'll be a day or so before any improvement is noticeable but it does seem to make a difference over time. We met in the park when I was on my way home. At the time, I was sitting on a bench talking to Ashley on the Blackberry, whose SIM should have ceased operating on Saturday as advised, but didn't. Typical BT 'efficiency'.

This evening I watched another in a series about real Sicilian detectives tracking down treasures looted from ancient tombs. Tonight's episode concerned the Europa Calyx Krater, a decorated Greek vase for mixing wine water and spices, a real masterpiece, signed by its maker and its painter five hundred years before Christ. It was uncovered when a tomb was accidentally exposed during road works in Apulia. 

The finder didn't realise its value, and took it home with him. Rumour about the vase reached the ears of low level traffickers to whom he unwittingly sold it for a million lire (less than a thousand euros) and a suckling pig! It was trafficked to Basel, then sold to the Getty Museum. By a series of fortuitous accidents a full account of the theft was pieced together and it was return to a museum in the town near where it was discovered. Justice done!

Then the third episode of serialised novel drama 'Life after Life'. Although it's a bit confusing to follow, tracking back and forth in time, visiting alternative 'What if' scenarios of a woman's life, it's beautifully acted and full of perfect period piece interiors in which the drama is played out. It makes a change from my usual viewing, I must admit.

Art that made us

Last night before going to bed I took a preliminary look at next Thursday's Morning Prayer texts, and then started wondering what I could make of the Exodus passage I'd have to reflect upon. Then I looked at the opening chapters of my novel, still complete in first draft but untouched for more than a year, lacking the motivation to continue. Unfortunately this re-awakened my interest in it, so I had a night of broken sleep with my brain buzzing. I posted today's link to WhatsApp at seven thirty, then dozed until nine. When I got up, I felt as if I'd hardly slept at all.

There were eleven of us at the St John's Eucharist this morning. By the end of it an idea was taking shape to write a reflection for next Thursday, so I didn't stay for coffee, but went straight home and started work on the idea until it was time to cook lunch. After eating I went out to shop for veggies, and took with me a plastic disinfectant bottle to buy a refill from a bring-your-own container bulk buy store. I also bought some dried butter beans, as we don't have any at home, and I enjoy cooking with them. Other kinds of beans are on sale there too. next time, I get something different. The bulk buy store is in the refurbished Corp building, a pub converted into multiple retail units plus a bar. The venture seems to be working well, though I haven't seen it really busy yet.

After an hour's siesta, Clare and I went for a walk in Llandaff Fields. The vacant plinths that were briefly occupied by the Snoopy figures have now disappeared. For good it seems, as I read a news item on-line stating that some of the figures were being re-located to places where they were less likely to be abused or vandalised and five were damaged within days of installation. Altogether, there are forty Snoopys across South Wales. I'm not in the least surprised the Llandaff Fields ones have gone, as they were sited in places with many people passing through, but no CCTV, police patrols or park wardens. Just perfect for mischief makers. 

This evening I watched episode three of 'Art that made us' on iPlayer in the hour before episode four live. Three was about the sixteenth century and impressively gave prominence alongside Shakespeare to Welsh Bible translator Bishop William Morgan as a literary innovator. Da iawn! 

Four was about the seventeenth century, and highlighted architectural innovations plus the remarkable drawings of Robert Hooke who reproduced in fine detail tiny things observed under a microscope, an innovation in his day, opening a new chapter in observational science, looking into the microcosm rather than outwards into the heavens, like Galileo and Newton in the same era. 

I'm loving this insightful exploration of all dimensions of creativity that have been part of the history of Great Britain and Ireland since the Romans left. I missed last week's episode only because we had Kath visiting us. This is telly really worth watching. 

Master of design

Bright and sunny today, but with a cold wind. I went to St Catherine's and celebrated the Eucharist with seven others this morning. Mother Frances contacted me as I was about to leave for church to ask if I'd take a funeral from St Peter's Fairwater as Emma is on sick leave at the moment. This service is with local Splott based family funeral company White Rose Funerals that I've not come across before. Intriguingly, the names of family members involved in the business are Arabic. Very much a reflection of the diversity of today's Cardiff.

Clare's back is improving every so slightly, though still very painful. She bought half a dozen bedding plants when she went out for her morning walk, and after cooking and eating lunch, I planted them. Her bad back doesn't let her to do tasks like that at the moment. Then I went and collected this week's order from Beanfreaks, then slept in the chair for an hour. I mustn't complain about losing time sleeping if I wake up feeling refreshed and clear headed. It made my afternoon circuit of the park less of an effort.

In the evening I made the bereavement call to start preparing for the funeral in two weeks time, and then watched another fascinating editions of 'Secrets of the Museum', which featured the work of designer Sir Kenneth Grange, a man responsible for the form of hundreds of everyday objects, plus the Inter City 125 train during his seventy year career. He's still working at ninety two, and wouldn't think of retiring. He looks so young still doing what he's loved doing throughout his adult life. After that, I finished watching French crimmie 'Inside' set in a mental hospital - the ultimate in complex psychological drama!

UN goes to Kremlin

I woke up to news that the UN General Secretary Antonio Gutierrez is in Moscow to see Putin and Lavrov. He's come in for some criticism for not visiting Ukraine first to see for himself the impact of the war, but he goes in full knowledge of the situation and the fact that Russia's action is condemned by the majority of member nations. His official role is to inform Putin that Russian actions in Ukraine violate  the UN Charter. It is proper to convey this formally in person and keep channels of communication open. At the moment, Putin's attitude is that Russia stands fast against a hostile world. And that's a very dangerous position when Russia has armaments that could destroy it completely.

The Russians are upping the rhetoric stating that NATO is conducting a proxy war in Ukraine, supplying weapons to strengthen resistance against aggression. Germany is sending fifty tanks to  the Ukrainian army, aircraft and missiles are also on the way. Some Ukrainian railway stations have been attacked by missiles, as if to show that importing war supplies will not go unopposed. Destroying rail infrastructure is not in the Russians military's best interests when gaining control would be more beneficial to them. Amazingly, the onslaught on the Donbas region isn't yet gathering full momentum. It seems that some of Ukraine's best forces are already embedded in defending the region.

America is also upping the rhetoric by stating the aim should be to degrade Russia's ability to act aggressively against any country. It's been said that the conflict so far has been more damaging to the Russian war machine than Putin anticipated, which could prolong the war beyond the target date of May 9th, associated with the Russian victory over the Nazis, and celebrated annually as such. Not being able to call his Ukraine exploit a swift success will be embarrassing as political and economic pressure starts to affect people more widely. But what impact will this have on the hold his regime has? 

After breakfast this morning, I stripped the bed linen for washing and re-made the bed. It's not such an easy task as the bed and mattress are very heavy, and in an awkward position. Joint pains in my hands make this an unpleasant exercise unfortunately.  Then I went out to do the weekly grocery shopping at the Co-op, and cooked lunch when I returned. Clare's back pain is easing slightly, and this afternoon she had an acupuncture treatment which seemed to help.

On my walk alongside the river Taff, I heard a warbler and a chaffinch, as well as the usual robins, tits, wrens and blackbirds. I saw a dipper speeding across from one river bank to another, with its distinctive flight pattern. It's the first one I've seen in the stretch between Western Avenue and Blackweir.

Another fascinating couple of programmes this evening on Sky Arts. The first was a documentary about the 16th century painter Raphael. The second was about the trafficking of archaeological artefacts looted from ancient Roman sites in Italy. 

A 60cm high group figure of three seated gods in marble was reported discovered in a clandestine excavation and taken illegally to Switzerland. The gods Jupiter, Juno and Minerva were the principal deities of Rome, depicted in a huge temple on the Capitol Hill, little of which remains today. Smaller scale versions of the original figures were thought to have existed and given pride of place in the homes of rich Roman citizens, but none had ever been found. 

The person reporting the discovery made an 'identikit' drawing of the figure, which gave the Carabinieri detectives some idea of what they were looking for, but nobody had ever seen it or anything like it. By a stroke of misfortune for the thieves, an arm from the figure broke off and was lost during excavation. The finder returned to the site secretly and discovered the missing piece among the rubble, and was then caught by the police who were monitoring his activity. The arm, lost and found, was physical evidence confirming the report of the find. A high risk press conference gave global publicity to the theft, making it impossible for art traffickers to sell the figure to any museum. This resulted in its clandestine recovery from the gang of traffickers, for whom the figure had become worthless. None were arrested, but the figure eventually found its home in the town museum at Montecelio, close to where it was discovered. 

Several times during the programme, mention was made of the true value of an artefact being not just in its original beauty, but the story it was part of. It reminded me of why programmes such as 'The Repair Shop' and 'Antiques Road Show' are so popular, because of the stories connected to objects shown.

Then, with nothing better to do, I watched the second episode of 'Life after Life', a faultless depiction of life in middle class Britain in the 1920s, and the story of a young girl's suffering as she grows up and gets married. This too is good story telling.

Turns of Fate

Disturbing news to wake up to this morning of the start of the Russian offensive to conquer the Donbass region of Ukraine with four times as many missile attacks as yesterday. Such overwhelming force, with no concern for civilian casualties or the environment. There's no justification for such destructive brutality, except to perpetuate the lies that keep the Putin regime in power. 

In the British parliament today, Boris Johnson has been apologising and making excuses for himself in relation to behaviour by the Downing Street Staff team which contravened public health legislation which government imposed on the nation as a whole. Police investigations leading to the Prime Minister and his colleagues being fined for breaches of lockdown law are outrageous enough in their own right, but more serious that this is the denial to the House of Commons on several occasions by the Prime Minister when challenged that there had been any law-breaking. We think Putin's regime is perpetuated by lies, but is our own leadership any different? 

It's argued by some that Johnson's lies don't have such a serious impact, but this turns a blind eye to the fact that as a journalist over twenty years, Johnson propagated lies about the European Commission and the benefits of leaving the EU which undermined democratic decision making in the brexit referendum. Trump's presidency over America was tainted by lies and mis-information throughout. In each case, it's all in the name of gaining and maintaining power and control. How can the world rid itself of such toxic culture? One way or another, the outcome is violence and suffering, perhaps self-destruction. What does it mean now to endure suffering for the sake of truth? Will NATO countries be drawn into war? Will the Russian people rise against their criminal overlords and change the course of their own history as they did before? So many unanswerable questions. I'm perplexed and troubled, fearful for the future.

After breakfast I walked to Pidgeon's chapel of rest to take the funeral service of a local lady who lived her entire seventy five years in the house she was born in. Not uncommon in a village maybe, but quite exceptional in a perpetually changing inner city area today. She was the widow of a professional soldier, one if whose roles had been the care of the Welsh Regimental Mascot, aka the Goat Major. A family members spoke fondly of times when her auntie and uncle had taken baby goat kids home to raise with bottle feeds - a bit different from the school's pet rabbit or hamster - things a mother gets to do!

Callum, the young man who conducted the funeral told me as we were driving home after the committal at the crem how he'd got the job. Luke, his housemate had been a driver for Pidgeon's after losing his job as an EasyJet pilot during a previous economic recession. He encouraged to 'get a life' by quitting life as a bar manager and do something less demanding and more useful. Callum was taken on and then trained by Pidgeon's, and is happy to have real job satisfaction. Luke subsequently returned to piloting. Post-pandemic, he flies for SAS.

I got home in good time to cook our regular favourite fast food lunch - mussels with brown rice, sweet corn and peas. While I was out Clare has been into town to buy a TENS machine from Boots, hoping it will ease the back pain and enable her to reduce the use of analgesics. The pain is still pretty bad, though less intense than it was last week. Neither of us could have imagined it would take such a long time to recover.

After lunch, a walk to the bank to deposit a cheque. It was closed, with no reason given, although there was a notice on the door stating that the branch would be closing down in October this year. I had to get on a bus and go to the remaining branch in the city centre to deposit the cheque instead. I think there will be only three HSBC branches serving Cardiff in future. Admittedly the switch to digital banking has reduced the demand for branch bank services, but that's of no help to people who aren't mobile or have no liking for modern banking ways. 

Admittedly one can deposit cheques via the Post Office, which now acts as an agency on behalf of some banks, but Post Offices are busy places, often with long queues to be served.  Big banks aren't interested in smaller account holders or serving local interests. Poorer and older people suffer as a result. While new digital banking models are emerging to challenge the market dominated by big institutions, these don't meet local and personal needs. Will a new form of local banking emerge in time I wonder?  

When I got back from town, I slept for over an hour again. One way or another I seem to need that extra hour during the day to feel good. 

In the evening, after supper a fascinating documentary on Sky Arts about the trade in artefacts stolen from an archaeological site in Sicily - a real detective story! Then on BBC2 Wales an intriguing serial story called 'Life after Life', based on a well received novel of the same name. It works with the 'what if' idea of destiny, and portrays alternative outcomes for the main character, and how the lives of those around her are all interconnected.  It takes a while to get used to considering whether you're looking at what might have happened or what actually happened. Odd, but in a way quite entertaining. The portrayal of upper middle class life in the first quarter of the twentieth century is superbly crafted. But, is it of enough interest to watch again next week, or even binge watch the remaining episodes on iPlayer? I'll sleep on it.

Reclaiming wilderness in Wales

Another chilly night, slightly warmer by day, overcast with showers, definitely autumnal weather. I went to the Eucharist at St John's. There were seven of us, with Mthr Frances. I had to walk briskly afterwards to the pharmacy in King's road for my 'flu jab, before returning home and cooking lunch in the for Clare's return from school.

After lunch I took the 61 bus to town, to avoid the intermittent showers, to take photos of the Betty Campbell statue outside the HMRC building in Wood Street. It's an impressive piece of work, both in its overall concept and in the detail. See for yourself, my photos are here. 

We watched a wonderful half hour wildlife programme, with Iolo Williams looking for Wales' only golden eagle in the Cambrian Mountains north east of Tregaron. It seems the bird escaped from captivity a decade ago and has settled in this remote depopulated region, able to feed itself by hunting rabbits and other small mammals. There are also kites, buzzards and merlin in the area, but they are dwarfed by the two metre wingspan of the eagle. When the eagle shows up, other raptors back off. Iolo was saying that the region is no longer as rich in wildlife as it once was, but he suggested changes in land management and ecosystem conservation could reverse the decline. It was a gentle overture rather than a rousing campaign speech. I wonder if anyone is government was watching? Anyway, I've written to the First Minister this evening, as he's the Senedd member for my constituency.

Seeing the world with honest clarity

After breakfast, I walked down to St John's to meet Mother Francis and be introduced to a lady whose father's funeral I'll be doing in ten days time. He was a teacher by profession who trained as a priest in mid life, working in school chaplaincy and later in a CofE Parish. It must be forty years since I last did the funeral of a priest who had once served in the St Paul's area parish where I was incumbent. It's rather a privilege to be asked to do this, though the reason is that the deceased was opposed to women as priests, which is why Mother Francis out of respect asked me. This is not a conviction I share, but I think I have some understanding of those who do. After all, some good friends and colleagues over the years were traditionalists. We shared the same spirituality and enthusiasm for mission and pastoral care, but agreed to differ on this issue, to live and let live.

As it's Clare's morning in school, I returned and cooked lunch, timed nicely just as she arrived through the door. The school has given her a covid self-test kit to use next week the day before she goes in again. If she tested positive she'd have to get a full test to ascertain whether or not it's a false positive, so we'd both have to go into self-isolation in between tests as a precaution. Better safe than sorry I suppose.

I walked to Victoria Park to take the St John's church keys back to the Rectory, then  walked on, out of the parish up to Ely Bridge, where there's now an access road into the riverside area formerly occupied by paper mills, in the throes of transformation into a new housing estate. It's not open to pedestrians or traffic yet, but what interested me was to find out if there's an old footpath along the river Ely. I've driven by many times, but never walked there. 

On the other side of the river is a turn of the 20th century row of terraced houses which may have been built for mill workers. I wandered along the terrace, facing the river bank, lined with flowering trees, and took a few photos. The terrace ends with the access road to a small industrial estate and a large RAF ex-servicemen's club. A curious location, I wonder why it was chosen?

Before starting the new batch of 2mg doxazosin, I decided to have a day's break, to see what difference it would make. My head has been clearer as a result. Recently, towards the end of my daily walk, the soles of my feet have started to hurt, but without any swelling. Tingling feet I expect when I exercise, a natural sign that blood is circulating properly. What I experienced was muscles in the soles of my feet burning painfully. The longer I stayed with the 4mg, the effect worsened. The day I stop, normal healthy tingling, but no burning pain. I now recall having had this side effect when I took high doxazosin doses before, but I mistakenly attributed this to the shoes I resumed wearing when the season for sandals was over.

I had an interesting chat with sister in law Ann about blood pressure this afternoon. As a medical ethicist it's a subject under debate she takes an interest in. In an effort to reduce incidences of strokes and heart attacks, medics have reduced the healthy norm of 140/80 down to 130/70. This may well be beneficial for the general adult population, but not necessarily so for elderly people, whose vascular systems age, and average blood pressure rises. If in older people it's artificially suppressed with medication this could have an undesirable impact on heart or kidneys, or result in fainting or dizziness. So maybe it's time to challenge the dogma that youthful low blood pressure is really such a good thing in old age.

We watched the second part of 'The Story of Welsh Art' on BBC Two Wales catch-up tonight. I hadn't realised how innovative Welsh artists were in the 17th-19th century, in landscape painting, the portrayal of working class as well as middle class people, and documenting the industrial revolution in paintings of the workplace. Seeing and representing realistically people and the land they belong to seems to have been characteristic of Welsh painters. 

There's an honesty of perception which art historians attribute to post reformation spirituality, a willingness to see things as they naturally are, not embroidered by myth or romantic sentiment. These artist were on a par with, if not ahead of their European counterparts, but hardly found lasting fame. The role of Welsh innovators is hardly acknowledged let alone celebrated in British art history. I hope this series of programmes may stimulate greater interest in this special dimension of our cultural heritage. Who knows, we may see some art exhibitions drawing attention to unsung Welsh masterpieces.