Have we lost the plot?

Another glorious summer day with 23 degree heat at breakfast time and 30C by lunchtime. The Radio Four Sunday Worship service was from Senghenydd, the parish next to where I served my title as Curate in Penyrheol housing estate, now part of the Caerphilly Ministry Area. Mark Greenway Robbins Rector of Caerphilly is now Ministry Area Leader for the conurbation which covers the ancient Parish of Eglwysilan and  that of Caerphilly. Bishop June preached, and among the other contributors was a community worker supported by the Citizen Church in Cathays Cardiff, which took over St Teilo's Parish Church, to provide a working base for an evangelical church planting 'resource church group' back by Holy Trinity Brompton in London. 

The community worker is based at St Peter's Senghenydd, aiming revitalise it and work on regeneration of a deprived and marginalised community that never fully recovered from the loss of over five hundred miners in pit disasters a century ago, and the loss of its last pit Windsor Colliery, just after I left Penyrheol for Birmingham fifty years later. Only one contributor had a distinctive Valleys accent, a former miner at Windsor Colliery. The rest sounded as if they'd crossed Offa's Dyke to re-evangelise the Welsh. Sure, the idea is to 'reach the unreached', in a secular society. I wish them well, but is this enterprise now beyond us natives? Are we being shamed by these enthusiastic in-comers? Is Welsh zeal reserved only for sports and music-making nowadays? How can we rekindle indigenous zeal for a real relevant Christianization of our national culture?

I took my choir robes with me conscientiously to St Catherine's for the Eucharist, and was relieved that it was decided not to robe up, as it was only just a little cooler in church than outdoors. Archbishop Rowan celebrated and preached. It was lovely listening to him again, he has such a relaxed and thoughtful style and always good insights to share. He was talking about Jesus re-inventing the idea of humanity, by abolishing all divisions of status, wealth, power and ethnicity - the ultimate 'levelling-up'. It's not just me that mocks Boris' latest content free catchphrase.

It was good, singing in the choir, such a change from presiding or sitting in the congregation. It keeps you on  the alert and aware of others in addition to the celebrant. I think I'll do more of this in future on the Sundays I don't have other duties, but it will be September before I can make my next appearance in choir, as all but one of the August Sundays I'm at St German's, and the other one I'm preaching at St Luke's. Next week we're down in Oxwich Bay with Owain, Kath and Anto.

Hilary was outside after the service with the first church garden courgettes of the season and a pot of blackberry jam for sale, both of which we bought. For lunch we had the first fruits of the French beans which were grown from seed. Summer delights!

My walk in the afternoon heat took me almost entirely under tree cover through Pontcanna Fields. over the Taff and back through the woods in Bute Park At a guess, there were a couple of hundred people on the pebble beaches along the river or messing about in the water at Blackweir. Hundreds more, in small groups found shader trees or erected their own canopies for shelter. I was accosted by a teenage couple in Bute Park, when the young man noticed the Olympus OMD I was carrying, and asked what type it was. I chatted with them for a while. I think they were at sixth form college. I was wearing my summer beret, which attracted curiosity and conversation about Spain. The girl had visited Fuengirola when her granny was the Church of Scotland Minister of the ex-pat community in Andalusia, around the time I was on locum duty there with the Costa del Sol East chaplaincy. Small world!

After supper we watched Antiques Road Show from Kenilworth Castle, which was very interesting and then the first episode of the second series of 'Baptiste'. An engaging if confusing plot line, as the story is told, switching between flashbacks and the present moment, a little confusing when it's not exactly clear if there's any point to this.

Parish Music Milestone

After another good night's sleep, I woke up just after the Sunday Worship programme started on Radio Four, reflecting on the past year of life suffering and death in lock-down. We had a reflection on a Gospel story from the Archbishop of York, plus a sermon from the Dean of Winchester, using a different biblical text. Both were insightful, thankfully. A lovely English choral version of the Lord's Prayer was used, disconnected from the prayers of intercession, as if it was just a nice piece of music, and I'm not sure that we didn't have two versions of the same modern hymn, or at least two modern hymns that were rather too similar to each other. It felt like a cobbled together Ministry of the Word whose structure was something of a mystery to me. 

In contrast following this, we were treated to a ten minute 'Point of View' by poet Michael Morpurgo, the story of whose suffering and recovery from coronavirus has been widely reported, and he himself has written about the experience. This morning it wasn't what he was reflecting on. He spoke of how much he misses personal contact with his audience as a writer, through book signings, Q&A interviews at book festivals, reading his stories in classes of school children. All the things which make his life as a writer meaningful, in other words. 

Then he went on to speak about what he'd gained, learning to do the same things using Zoom and how, much to his surprise and delight, he found he was reading on-line not to audiences of ninety but ninety thousand all around the world. It's not about fame or recognition, but his joy, sharing something valued he has made. Something similar has been observed by churches offering on-line services over the past year, finding that audiences extend well beyond the usual circle of parishioner. And not only for worship, but also for on-line discussion groups as well. Will this last as part of the new normal, I wonder? 

Another sunny morning to walk to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist. There were about thirty of us. Next Sunday, St Luke's will reopen for worship. Few people from there have joined us in St Catherine's that I'm aware of. Did they go to other churches that were open or watch on-line? No everybody's needs are the same.  

After lunch I walked up to the Cathedral. The ranks of chairs in the nave had all been pushed back to clear a space in the front where half a dozen chairs were placed in a big socially distanced semi-circle, as if for a performance of some kind. I was surprised to see the high altar stripped bare, and a plain wooden cross placed on a pedestal in the choir. The place looked as you might expect it to look of Good Friday. I wondered if this was an innovative modification to the Passiontide liturgical environment in the light of the pandemic or the first anniversary of UK lock-down and asked one of the duty stewards. It was indeed in anticipation of Good Friday, as the Passion Liturgy of the day is going to be prerecorded later in the afternoon for streaming on the day itself. All will revert to normal tomorrow. 

I rather like the stripped down vista of choir and sanctuary. The blend of shapes and forms due to different architectural styles has a special quality unadorned. Monastic churches nowadays have that kind of simplicity about them, and are furnished only as necessary for acts of worship. I wish we could do the same in parish churches, but recognise this would cause a lot of extra routine work for parish sacristans. Shifting it all out of sight for the Holy Triduum and doing the annual spring-clean is enough of an exercise as it is.

We returned to St Catherine's this evening for a special Passiontide service with five scripture readings and choral items from the choir, singing socially distanced from the choir stalls for the first time in a year since lockdown UK began. I took a camera with me and video'd the service, handheld, which means it's a bit shaky in parts. The audio could be better, but I wasn't in the most effective position for this, but it does record a small but significant moment in the history of the pandemic and the Parish. I was able to edit the two video files taken that cover the service using the old Windows Movie Maker, which I prefer to the Windows 10 video editing app, perhaps because I can more readily remember how to. It uploaded to YouTube while I watched the first episode of 'Line of Duty' series six, so I could send a link to Fr Benedict and to Choirmaster Colin for them to circulate. Good to get the job out of the way quickly. On Tuesday I'll be making a video at St John's with Mark and Fran about her icon of the resurrection appearance to Mary Magdalene. It'll certainly be easier there to get the sound right! 

In the wilderness

I woke up this morning in time to listen to BBC Radio Four Sunday worship, which during Lent is taking an unusual form. It explores the scripture theme and readings set for the day in the manner of an Ignatian retreat. There's music and select prayers, but explanations of the texts and reflection upon them are woven together in a way that encourages the listener to imagine understand and dig deep into their meaning. It worked very well I thought, and look forward to the rest of the series. I read through Morning prayer before breakfast and the Eucharist of the day afterwards, then went out for a walk in the rain down to the weir. 

The flood water did rise a bit more last night and washed over the footpath, leaving some fresh silt in the puddles, but the water level had dropped half a metre by mid morning. The force of yesterday's torrent washed a heavy tree stump off the top of the fish trap, where it's been stranded for several months. Heaven knows how much further downstream it's travelled now. The river level needs to drop another half a metre before we can see how the islands of stones in the river bed have been re-shaped, and what other big debris has been caught up with them. How the river bed looks changes over the years, sculpted by the water.

After lunch we went out again down to the weir, and walked up the riverside track to Western Avenue. It was very muddy and unpleasantly slippery to negotiate, and left me feeling quite tired when we got back, Clare baked a bara brith for tea for the first time in a while - good cheer to come home to.

This Tuesday I have a long overdue telephone consultation with pharmacology expert about blood pressure medication as I was having such problems keeping it under control with the additional dosing of doxazosin at various strengths before the last operation. Since then my blood pressure has been less high. It seemed nevertheless that the extra medication was making me feel slightly faint and dizzy. 

Then I remembered that such symptoms could also be due to inner ear blockage and mis-alignment of neck vertebrae and pelvis, due to the presence of the open wound. Muscles instinctually adjust to shield it from painful pressure. It's possible to mitigate these conditions with simple physical exercises to compensate when needed, so I was able to get rid of the headache and dizzyness. I thought I would drop the doxazosin and see how I got on without it, but stopped checking my blood pressure occasionally. So, I thought I should do so before taking to the consultant, and was horrified to find that it was sky high again, which perhaps explains why I have been rather short tempered lately. So, I have resumed taking the dozazosin, starting with a low dose, to see what impact it has, and increase it if needs be. I have spare pills to be going on with. I'll be interested to hear what the specialist has to offer when I tell him all this.

In all other respects, I'm fit and well, except for this wound, which is a fundamental source of stress, as it's so close to the vagus nerve that runs through the central nervous system. Living with this must have something to do with the difficulty of keeping blood pressure near to normal. Long ago I stopped being anxious about the unending wait for another round of treatment. 

The pandemic has added to the wait and that's accepted, cannot be fought against. I've survived a stressful year of infection risk, to reach the point of being vaccinated. I don't find it that difficult to live under restrictions, as two years worth of surgery has obliged me to come to terms with this, and be grateful to be alive. Normalising my blood pressure relies on completing the surgical process and healing. It's a matter of how it can be made less worse in the meanwhile. Just think - there are thousands of people made vulnerable by forced delays in their treatment regime, thousands hoping that they won't become collateral damage in the battle against this pandemic.

Clare watched an episode of the highly acclaimed series about the AIDS pandemic 'It's a sin', with some powerful acting and a deeply distressing story exposing people's range of reactions when the nature of a then incurable disease is uncovered and linked exclusively at the start to gay people enjoying new found freedoms in the seventies and eighties. As we've moved on so far in forty years, I find it hard to revisit and decided I didn't want to watch when the series started. Tonight the telly was on and I was sitting in the room uploading photos. I couldn't avoid getting the general drift of the episode, but what I did find disturbing was what I consider to be pornographic portrayals of gay sex on mainstream TV. 'If it can be seen it must be seen' is the contemporary maxim, interpreted as if we can shove it in your face and shock you, we'll do it for the sake of it.

Later we watched the final episode of 'Finding Alice'. A superb talented cast saddled with interpreting a bizarre if slightly believable tragic plot in a slightly comic way. A realistic look at the impact of bereavement on a family not expecting it? Or just playing about with it? Nothing shocking here, unless you're shocked that nice middle class ladies swear with the same disregard for grammar or context as football hooligans. Relieved that it's all over at last.

On the Sunday when the church thinks about Jesus in the desert, I feel that we're also in the stuck out in a cultural wilderness, a dearth of dignity and meaning, marked by hunger for sensation and excitement. Or perhaps it's just me coming to realise that old age is just one long desert, where you have to search diligently for oases that nourish and sustain.

Another lock-down Sunday

Last night I frittered away the gift of an extra hour's sleep with the clocks reverting to GMT working on my novel in bed. I woke up at first light. The sky was clear, a beautiful pale blue, with a single planet Venus visible above the horizon. I looked away for a minute and when I returned to the view, a flimsy layer of dark cloud was traveling from west to east over the rooftops. Amazingly, Venus could be seen shining through.

When I got up at eight, the sun was shining brightly in a sky decorated with small clouds. Sadly, no church because of lock-down today, so I listened to the Radio Four broadcast for Bible Sunday, a service of the Word from St Martin in the Fields, with the Vicar Sam Wells, a Thought for the Day regular, preaching an fine meditative sermon to suit the occasion, Anglican chants and traditional hymns appropriate to the day. Surprisingly, he worked almost entirely from Exodus 3.1-15 and didn't use the Common Lectionary texts. It was beautifully done.

After breakfast, we watched Mother Frances celebrate the Parish Eucharist at the Rectory, and sang along with the hymns and Ordinary of the Mass. The service ended early enough to allow time for an hour and a half's walk before lunch. The weather forecast was for rain within the hour. Cloud built up ominously but no rain fell. In fact, it didn't rain for the rest of the day. The clouds went away at sunset leaving the moon to rise in a clear sky. That made a change from being rained upon and getting soaked unexpectedly.

I went to bed early to watch the political crime thriller 'Roadkill' on BBC iPlayer as Clare preferred to watch interviews with former Abba members on another channel at the same time. Then an hour's work on my novel before surrendering to sleep.

Around the Lord's Table once more

It couldn't have been a better Sunday morning, warm and sunny, to re-start public worship in the Parish at St Catherine's and St Luke's. For the moment there's still an on-line Eucharist in addition offered by Mother Frances from the Rectory, at an earlier time as well. Three dozen adults and a few children gathered with Emma our Team Vicar at St Catherine's. 

For her this was an occasion of particular joy, after a ten month lay-off, her maternity leave was drawing to a close when covid-19 struck. She looked radiantly happy as she led our celebration. A simple said Eucharist with homily, no music, not even from a recording. A good place to start, especially at ten thirty in the morning. Our usual Sunday said services are at eight o'clock. Are we really as awake as we should be at such an hour? It's never an exuberant celebration shall we say.

I was half expecting this occasion to be an intense emotional experience, but it wasn't. It was calm, peaceful and uplifting, just being together again in God's house, despite the external changes. Individual and family group social distancing was observed and every other pew was kept empty, allowing Emma move around the nave and bring us Communion in our seats. It worked well. A sidesman was at the door compiling a track and trace register as we arrived. 

What struck me was the crisp unison of voices responding throughout the liturgy. Everyone was focused, intent on savouring the moment un-distracted I think. Liturgical responses can often be ragged, as if some find it difficult to give it their full attention. Four months absence, but no rehearsal was needed. In a low key way, this was most powerful. Emma afterwards said that a colleague of hers over the border in the CofE had been taken aback at their first Parish service by the same experience. The long absence resulted in people being more present. Can we keep it up?

After lunch and a siesta, a walk up to Llandaff Cathedral. I met Mother Frances walking her dogs on the way there and we chatted for a while. The Cathedral was open for private prayer. The seating there was arranged in the same way with a space for clergy to bring Communion to worshippers in their places. The Cathedral website states that Eucharists at nine and eleven will resume without singing. There's an on-line offering too. The nine o'clock Family Eucharist has long been well attended with a full nave. The capacity for worshippers is reduced to twenty percent of the usual but it's unlikely people will turn out in large numbers initially. Worshippers are asked to download and print the order of service, or bring their tablet with them. Fine, as long as all notification sounds are muted, as with mobile phones in church!

BBC Radio Four's Sunday Worship programme this morning was from Leeds, and conducted by two Roman Catholic priests, one in mid career, the other recently ordained and then offering Mass for the first time under the restricted conditions attached to worship with few close family and friends in attendance instead of the usual big community celebration to launch a new ministry. He spoke of the three months without the Eucharist and Communion in a way that resonated with me. The Mass is both a table of the Word and a table of the Word made flesh in the Holy Sacrament. This period of time has been one extended period at the table of the Word, in which Christ has still taught and fed us. We may feel we have missed out, but not really. It will have taught us to treasure more fully the gifts we have received from God.

  

Communication paradigm shift

This morning's BBC Radio Four Sunday Worship programme was from Cardiff Baptist College, led by staff members and students. It was based around the Sunday Lectionary Gospel for the day, the Parable of the Sower from Matthew's Gospel, and was rich with insight from different perspectives.

After breakfast, Clare and I sat together and shared the on-line Parish Eucharist broadcast from Canton Rectory, also with an exposition of the Parable of the Sower from Mother Francis. She made use of Vincent Van Gogh's painting 'The Sower' as a basis for her reflection. Equally original and engaging. It's not one of my favourite Gospel passages, with its second half explaining the imagery of the first half, leaving less freedom to work it out for yourself. The imaginative way in which both renderings of the parable I heard this morning gives me cause to rethink how I deal with it, should I ever get asked to preach about it again. 

After the service Clare insisted on catching up on last Thursday's themed meditation, now a regular feature of the Benefice's on-line offering. Reconciliation was the subject. It was beautifully crafted in terms of content and visuals. It's so good that video tools now available for everyday use by non-professionals is unleashing such creativity. Many have taken note of how public broadcasters have presented religious themed material, and put this to good use. It's taken the pandemic crisis to empty diaries and open up the possibility of spending time making devotional and educational material that relates to the people and context in which all local pastoral ministry happens. 

Ibiza was tough going for me, having to produce on-line audio weekly, with help from just four people willing and able to record sound files of readings to use. As an outsider, not integrated into the church social network, not knowing who I could approach, persuade and recruit to help, what I could achieve was limited as much as it was by lack of equipment or expertise. Already, a paradigm shift in parish level public communication is occurring. It is capable of unleashing more creativity and collaboration between laity and clergy, and involving many more people in conveying the message of what life in the Body of Christ means to them. With a few more Sundays to be seen and get acquainted with church members in Ibiza, I could have done better. But this wasn't to be. It's a matter of learning by doing as you go along, and the timing wasn't right on this occasion.

By eleven for a change, I was out walking. Again the parks were busy with groups of people sitting and enjoying the sun, or else cycling, jogging, pushing prams or strolling. I overheard someone passing by say to their companion that they'd never seen it so busy.

Next Sunday, churches will re-open for worship. Heaven knows how this will work out, given the challenges of doing so safely, given the rules to be applied, slightly different in each building. At the same time, the value of continuing to offer on-line ministry of prayer and worship is understood and poses the question how it can be sustained, and in what form.

There'll be a Parish Zoom session to examine and discuss this on Wednesday this week. When I learned of it, I found my head filling with ideas, so I wrote a few suggestions to Mthr Emma in an email, for starters, so I can listen at the meeting and not say much. If what I wrote is of any use it'll surface at another time.

Four days ago, when I pondered in this blog over the likely end of my public ministry in prevailing 

circumstances, a comment appeared, attached to this posting, from Darren, a friend I made in my Geneva days twenty five years ago, who now lives and works as an academic in Singapore. He sees no reason why I shouldn't set up my own on-line platform for preaching, teaching and devotional material. But, I have my doubts.

Sure, it would be nice to have a continuing outlet for my creative energies in this sphere, but I shy away from it. Who  am I, but a servant of the church communities I have belonged to, which have honoured, welcomed my ministry over fifty years. As best I can, I deliver the message and point in what I think is the right direction for others to be met by God. It's not impersonal, but projecting my personality in the media has no appeal for me. My role model, for rather a long time has been John the Baptist - a voice crying in the wilderness.
  

Quarantine Cymru - day Twelve

Another day of clouds, cooling wind and occasional rain, more like March than midsummer. I woke up early, prayed and listened to Radio Four's Sunday Worship programme with John Bell of the Iona community. He took the witness of Hebrew prophets as a theme, and quoting from prophetic oracles showed how many of the critical issues of their time are much like what we are experiencing today. A good start to the day. Canton Benefice on-line Eucharist started earlier than I realised, so rather than joining in late, I prayed through the service on my own, and later found and listened to Mother Francis' homily.

Then there was an after-church Coffee and Chat session using Zoom, to welcome Benedict our new Assistant Curate, an enjoyable half hour of seeing familiar faces again and saying Hello, especially Revd Emma, Nick and their two lovely kids. Clare alerted me to last Tuesday's on-line meditative act of worship, for which I had videoed myself reading the Parable of the Good Samaritan, without knowing where it would be used. The surprise came at the end, when the last frame displayed the message 'Welcome Home Father Keith'. I was very touched by this.

Later in the morning I had a message from Rosi in Ibiza to say they have alternative arrangements for on-line audio Sunday services in place. It's good to hear they've been working on that. I wonder what I'll find to do by way of new ministry hereafter? Strange to think that the past seventeen weeks of offering worship to church members in Ibiza is the longest continuous spell of locum service I have ever offered, and two of those weeks from here in quarantine. 

It could be the last time I do a Euro-locum, given the vast change in social conditions imposed by the pandemic. In seven of the eight previous years I have spent at least two months a year working abroad. Good to be working at all at my age! If it became possible to resume locum duties in future, a long spell would be out of the question. I'll only go for as long as Clare is willing to accompany me, and that will be less time than I'd like to go for, as she has so many more local commitments than me. I've never minded travelling and staying places on my own, as it's so easy to be in touch daily, but the pandemic has reminded me of my age and vulnerability, and more importantly of the fragility of life's most precious relationships. All to be treasured while we still can! 

Meanwhile, I have tens of thousands of photos and memories of places I've visited and stayed in for longe than I ever would as a tourist. Such a lot to reflect on and give thanks for, while all the time wondering what God has in store for me next.

  

Quarantine Cymru - day Five

Clouds, sunshine and a few early showers on this Day that the Lord has made. I woke up at five and thought it was later, as I felt refreshed, but I did go to be earlier last night, and am still sleeping well.

I said Morning Prayer, listened to the Sunday Worship service on Radio Four. It was a modern style service of the Word celebrating Father's Day (I'd forgotten), offering scriptural and personal reflection on fatherhood in a thoughtful rather than sentimental way. Then I read the Church in Wales Eucharist texts to celebrate being back home on a Sunday. 

It's the longest day today, and 95 days after imposition, the Spanish government Estadio de Alarma ends today. Powers to implement restrictions where these may be needed to control outbreaks passes back to regional governments, and free movement between regions is possible once more. Some parts of the country, like the Balearic Islands are almost virus free, whilst in others it persists, with new infections and deaths, albeit far fewer than a month ago. 

Now travel between EU countries can resume, there will be a slow influx of holidaymakers. German travellers are already arriving. Spain has conceded that UK travellers won't be obliged to self quarantine for two weeks on arrival, although they will have to if they return. No incentive here for short term holiday-makers unless they aren't returning to work. It will benefit Brits wanting to return to second homes and businesses, or to reunions with family members. 

It remains to be seen whether this movement of people triggers a second wave of contagion. Spain's hospitality industry is geared up welcome people with appropriate hygiene precautions. Let's hope visitors are equally cautious and not in denial about the possibility of a second wave. I wonder if local trace and track systems will serve when scaled up to cope with visitor influx, and contain any imported outbreak? Time will tell.

I'm not yet ready to dive into the Parish's Sunday offering of liturgy on-line, but  I could hear Clare singing along downstairs after breakfast. No, I'm using quarantine as a retreat, to adjust to being here where there's been a different approach to infection control. When I am free to go public in nine days time, I will indeed need to be alert to the differences.  I remember how I felt the first couple of times I ventured out legitimately during and after lock-down in Ibiza. It takes a little time to regain confidence. That's not a bad thing. It's a matter of looking out for others as well as yourself in the best way possible.

Finally, I started work on transcribing the travel diary Clare and I wrote on our first visit to Greece for a three week backpacking holiday in the summer of 1967. I took it with me to work on in Ibiza but never took it out of my suitcase with too many other things to think about. Now in quarantine, I have leisure and quiet. We were abroad for thirty three days. I had forgotten that ten days were occupied with travelling there and back by train and ferry. With good connections the same journey today could be done in two days, and ten hours door to door by 'plane. Will there be a return to overland travel with huge question marks over air travel post pandemic? I wonder.

I've had phone calls from Kath, Rachel and Owain today wishing me a happy Father's Day. It makes me realise how blessed I am to have such lovely grown up children and enjoy their company.

State of Alarm - day Seventy Three

Today was a little cooler and cloudier, with light wind, which I suppose is just right for Pentecost Sunday. I woke up late for first antibiotic of the day, ate a little, then as the sun was starting to rise and the dawn chorus competition between cockerels and dogs was starting, against the background of the dawn chorus, I had this idea.

I stood the Sony HX90 on the balcony railing and held it there while it ran in movie mode for just over three minutes, to record these early morning sounds. I thought this would be a good setting for a Pentecost Prayer, which I had yet to write but had ideas for. Although I haven't really had the time and energy to master the Windows 10 video editing app, I noticed that it gave to option of adding a sound track, and thought I'd experiment. I returned to bed and dozed for two hours,  then listened to BBC Radio 4 Sunday Worship, coming from Cardiff's Elim Pentecostal Church in my former parish of St John the Baptist. It was nice to hear local accents again.

After saying Morning Prayer and the words of the Pentecost liturgy, I couldn't stay awake. Although I didn't feel physically tired, I was still very sleepy, and didn't get up until midday. I assume this is just part of recovery. After lunch, I recorded the script for the prayer which I'd written in dribs and drabs through the morning when awake, then added the audio to the trimmed video file. It turned out to be simpler than I thought, except that there no instructions to speak of, and I had to work it out by trial and error. I was pleased with the outcome, uploaded it to YouTube and sent the link to Dave at teat time. I was pleased to be able to honour the day in this way, even if nobody but me would have minded if I didn't upload anything. Soli Deo gloriam. 

No serious return of the sensations of trauma just suggestions, linked to wound discomfort. While the wound is still swollen and sore, it is less so, and requires a lot of attention to keep comfortable and fend off those dark anxious clouds which had dogged me for two weeks without realising what was happening. Know your enemy! I did a 7km evening walk with no difficulty, and as ever the exercise did me good, plus the extra dose of fresh air we got today.

Anthony came over for another chat this evening, he'll be moving in downstairs tomorrow, once he has handed over a dog he's been looking after. This will change things for me, hopefully take my mind off the dark clouds. Taking plenty of extra rest seems to be vital.


 returned to bed

State of Alarm - day Sixty One

A good night's sleep, and a quiet time of worship, which included listening to BBC Radio Four's Sunday Service, as well as praying the Offices of Matins and Holy Communion. This morning radio service reflected on the seven fold gifts of the Spirit, and offered profound food for thought. 

Prepared by a Scottish team, it's the second time in recent weeks that I've listened to a non liturgical non-Eucharistic act of worship from Catholic presenters. As there are plenty of on-line streamed Masses available for people to attend, it's really good Catholic broadcast media isn't duplicating these offerings but creatively stepping out of comfortable routine, drawing on the immense wealth of spirituality which perhaps would only be easily accessible to people in an organised retreat, or else willing to go on line and hunt for it. It's true we've all got more time to think at the moment, what's impressive is the quality of the offerings being made by faith communities.

This morning the impulse returned to work on my short-story-turned-into-a-novel again. I had intended to write more while I was here but this is only the second time I have loaded the file in fifteen weeks. Funny how it's possible to get into the flow write thousands of words and forget to insert chapter headings! That's where I left it back in February. What I needed to do, was to help Clare who is reading the first draft to navigate the second half of the 73k words of text.

When I was out walking yesterday I understood what I needed to write in order to turn the story towards conclusion. I only had a vague idea up until now. It's grown and grown as the lives of the characters have unfolded in my imagination since I started writing seven months ago. It was quite a surprise that it developed the way it did, and so easily.

I found it refreshing to work on something different and creative, just for the sake of it. Eventually I went out for my daily walk, and just had enough time for supper before our family Zoom call, so refreshing to see them all enjoying each other's company again.

Confirmed in the news this evening is that the Spanish government is re-opening eight airports to commercial flights as of tomorrow. Ibiza is one of them. The national State of Alarm with phased removal of restrictions depending on regional infection rates, and government powers to act without consultation have been further extended for two weeks, so there's no guarantee that airport opening will not be reversed if conditions require. Does it mean British Airways will now honour my home flight booking for the 8th June? I don't trust them. Pero ya veremos.