Exemplary collaboration

Another cloudy day, slightly warmer. It doesn't feel as if we're two weeks away from Midsummer day. In the news, a sailing boat carrying a token amount of aid for Gaza with twelve protesters has been detained by the Israeli navy and the activists deported. The intention was to draw attention to the siege of the territory and the starvation of Palestinians as an act of war. Incidentally it highlighted the fact that for the past twenty years, Palestinians have been denied control of Gazan coastal waters by Israel, part of its refusal to acknowledge Palestinian state sovereignty. 

Religious extremist Israeli nationalists are bent not just on seeing Hamas eliminated, but driving Palestinians out of the native land they have shared for millennia, selectively citing scripture as their mandate, defying international law and a balanced comprehensive interpretation of the foundation of a faith that upholds justice and equity. Fundamentalist fanaticism is once more demonstrating how toxic it is in the affairs of people and nations. Two ministers of Netanyahu's government have been sanctioned by the UK and five other nations for inciting violence against Gazans and advocating ethnic cleansing. The Israeli reaction has been vehemently condemnatory, and the spokesman interviewed on BBC news was highly aggressive, offensive and abusive towards the interviewer.

Clare went off to her study group in Penarth after breakfast. I waited in for handyman Suheil to arrive and measure up a section of garden wall where Clare wants to mount a new trellis for growing one of the climbing plants we bought from Pugh's Garden centre a few weeks ago. He arrived just before eleven, took measurements and soon left in a hurry. He's a busy man. Then I went to the shops as we needed plant milks and a few other things. I made a pasta dish for lunch with black beans and mushrooms in the sugo. Only recently did I try cooking with black beans for the first time. They have a good flavour, less bland than canelli or fava beans.

After lunch, I finished reading 'Sangre Nueva' and then went out and walked for an hour around Llandaff Fields and returned for a cup of tea before going out again and walking in Thompson's Park to complete my daily distance target. Clare had left for a meditation group session, so I had supper on my own. Then I found on iPlayer another German police mini series to watch called 'The Black Forest murders' or 'Spuren' auf Deutsch, a dramatised documentary telling the story of the year long real life enquiry into the murder of a young woman which turns out to be linked to similar cold case in neighbouring Austria. I watched all four episodes in one go, just under three hours, as it was such a compelling watch.

There's a certain genre of crimmie known as a 'police procedural'  in which the investigation is a context for stories told about investigators, witnesses, victims, and others impacted say a lot about the personalities and relationships of those involved. In this one, the detailed process of the investigation, the forensic science and legal scrutiny of the case are centre stage. You see the members of the investigative task force workers develop, how much of a collaborative and creative effort it is, and what authoritative quiet leadership from the Superintendent lead investigator looks like. 

There's nothing dull about this. No dramatic emotional scenes or side tracks, but glimpses of people working well together driving themselves close to exhaustion, surviving on takeaway food and so much  cake and biscuits. Patient, thorough, persistent team commitment. It's an inspiring example of real life collaborative working. 

Epiphany Day

A rain soaked night, but sunshine breaking through this morning and a brighter if cloudy day. Housework after breakfast, then preparation work on next Wednesday's Morning Prayer and Reflection, with another Sunday sermon to prepare as well this week. It's good to have positive things to think about in the face of dispiriting world news as well as nearer home. The only sign that the Christmas festival days are over is the occasional Christmas tree dumped in a front garden, ready for a collection that isn't going to happen this year, or so we've been told.

Clare made an early lunch and after eating was spirited away by taxi to the School of Optometry for an afternoon as a test subject for student exams. Just as she was leaving a large heavy parcel was delivered for her, which needing depositing on the kitchen table for opening later. It turned out to be a bright red Kenwood 'kMix' Food Mixer with a dough hook. It seems my hand kneading days are over. Not sure I'm happy with being replaced by a machine.    

I recorded and edited the reflection I wrote earlier and then went for a walk over to the east side of the river and walked down the Taff Trail to Blackweir Bridge to do a circuit of Pontcanna Fields. The grass was rain saturated from last night's downpour and the river was running fast, higher than normal, but less than yesterday. There seemed to be fewer people out walking than usual, and conditions too poor for sports practice. The sky was clear and a cold wind made it feel even colder.

I followed the progress of a bright blue plastic ball floating down river close enough to the bank to be brushed by low lying branches, delaying its progress enough for me to keep up with it and take a few photos for interest. Only in the last fifty metres above the weir did the ball move away from the bank, swept toward mid-stream by the current before skidding down the concrete ramp into the waves of boiling foam in the lower pool and disappearing from sight. Yesterday we saw a large black kit bag float over the weir, then surface in a fast moving current of water on its way down stream. I wondered what was in it and who might have lost it, with what consequences. Will it get snagged somewhere? Will it float, half submerged all the way down to the Bay Barrage, and end up in one of the nets fishing for rubbish, about 500 tonnes a year, most of it plastic?

Before and after supper, I watched this week's double episode of a new 'Silent Witness' series on iPlayer. This story is all about elderly people with no family, vulnerable with memory loss being preyed upon by a care home nurse, who works out a way of disposing of them and laundering their assets and properties. It's quite a scary story when you're getting to that sort of age yourself. I thought it was over melodramatic in parts. Even so, in addition to a new boss who is a very senior academic lady of a certain age there's Kit, a new research assistant, who in the tradition of this series is cast as someone of exceptional ability, but in some way different. In this case Kit is played by dwarf actor, Francesca Mills, a real live wire.

Resignation surprise

Up at eight on a grey sky day. I drove to St German's after breakfast to attend Mass and sign the baptismal register, as I'd been unable to on Saturday night and left with Churchwarden Peter a small gift for Basma. Fr Jarel mentioned Dean Richard Peers in the prayers, It seems that he announced his early retirement on Sunday morning. Somebody else mentioned it to me yesterday, but I thought they must have been mistaken. It seems the ordeal of enduring a vexatious complaint process which started during his time at Christchurch College Oxford has taken its toll on him. Only last week was he exonerated by a clergy disciplinary court and his accusers castigated. It's so sad for the diocese to lose a gifted priest in this way. He's not the first senior cleric to quit recently. Does the church know any longer how to care for and protect its pastors?

When I returned, Clare was already cooking an early lunch, as she had an afternoon eye appointment at UHW. After we'd eaten I drove her there, then returned and went for a walk. It drizzled most of the time while I was out, but I got back just as the rain got heavier. The rest of the day I spent watching episodes of 'This Town'. It's a moving portrayal of dystopian life in outer suburban council housing areas in East Birmingham and Coventry at the time when the IRA was active in the West Midlands, with a spy thriller story embedded in it, in addition to a story about young people's striving to make a break their inherited family scripts. Of particular interest to me is the portrayal of non institutional religion in their lives.

Figs in the park

I woke up and half past six and couldn't get back to sleep, so I posted the Morning Prayer YouTube link on What'sApp, listened to 'Thought for the Day' and got up for breakfast earlier than usual. I had a voicemail from Mother Frances at eight thirty to ask if I'd celebrate St John's Eucharist, as she was afflicted with a severe migraine. I walked there early enough to shop for food bank items in Tesco's on my way to church. Most of the regulars were away. It was just David and I when we started, but my sixth sense was at work, telling me our number was incomplete. Half way through, another person arrived, who attends from time to time when her work schedule permits. Two or three gathered together around the Lord's Table. Funny how this happens.

I returned home, feeling tireder than usual, losing an hour's sleep. I rested in the chair but couldn't doze off, so I got up and worked on next week's Morning Prayer video, while Clare cooked lunch. I had stopped to eat lunch then completed the job and uploaded the video after eating. 

Father Stewart emailed me the dates of Sunday duties he wants me to cover in the third quarter of the year. It won't be weekly as his regular pattern of duty cover required me to fill fortnightly slots, so I can offer the remainder of dates to Area Dean Fr Dyfrig, in case they are useful to him for covering our local double vacancy. According to this week's parish newsletter, he's going to be the interim Ministry Area Leader until an appointment is made. As if he didn't already have enough work on his plate with Eglwys Dewi Sant, Welsh Language Advisor and Area Dean in his brief! 

Anyway, it looks as if I'll be able to celebrate Christmas in the parish this year rather than crossing the city to St German's, as I have done previously. We're hosting the annual festive banquet this year. Then, a few days later, Kath and Anto are off to Australia on a long planned visit to some old friends of theirs.

Clare succeeded in getting a full coat of paint for the shed out of tin we bought, but another is needed for a second coat, so I walked down to Cowbridge Road and took a 17 bus to the top end of Heol Trelai in Caerau then walked the last half mile uphill to B&Q to buy one. I was lucky to wait only five minutes for a 96 bus outside Western Cemetery, which brought me back into Canton, and a fifteen minute walk home. Before supper, I went out again and walked to Thompson's Park, where I checked out the fig tree which overhangs a back garden well next to the park.  

It was covered with baby figs which will take a year to grow and ripen, plus a couple of dozen large figs on overhanging branches unreachable high up. These had over-ripened to the point of going rotten and attacked by wasps. But I found one big nearly ripe fig concealed by leaves on a low hanging branch, which I took home and left to finish ripening next to a large nectarine, due to be eaten tomorrow. A small treat, thanks to our warmish wet summer weather. Next year's fig crop from this tree should be fantastic, if they survive long enough to ripen.

Just as I was going out to the park, Pete the tree surgeon husband of Mandy, a school friend of Kath's came by to inspect the Damson tree in our garden. It's suffering from an infestation which is causing its leaves to curl up. No chance of fruit this year I suspect. Investigation and diagnosis is now under way.

After supper we watched the first episode of 'I Claudius' on BBC iPlayer. It's a classic TV drama made in 1976 with a stellar cast, and amazing acting. I'm not sure we had colour TV when we saw this back then. It was shot on videotape according to Wikipedia. It's acclaimed as one of the best ever TV dramas from the BBC and still looks surprisingly good, especially when you consider its age.

Scandi gris?

After breakfast this morning the four of us walked into town to visit M&S so Owain could change a pack of oversized shorts he'd bought, then to John Lewis' for a drink and a bite to eat. I bought a Owain a wireless keyboard as his Windows laptop wouldn't work with the Apple Bluetooth keyboard he uses with his Mac, despite updating the laptop's drivers. It's a nice piece of kit and I may buy one for myself to save space on my workstation desk, and retire my USB cabled full sized keyboard, to get rid of the trailing wire on my desktop.

We returned home by bus, then  Kath and Owain took their leave of us. Kath drove Owain to Bristol on her way back to Kenilworth. After a siesta we did our weekly housekeeping chores. Then, an hour's walk in the park before I cooked pasta with a butter bean and veggie sugo for supper.

Kath recommended a new police procedural series called 'Anneke' on BBC iPlayer, so I spent the evening watching several episodes.  It's set in the beguiling scenic coastal waters of West Scotland, and the key protagonist is the eponymous detective from a Norwegian family. There are lots of references to Norse mythology plus stories in her intimate stand-up musings to camera, rather than done as voice overs. It works in a quirky sort of way, thanks to the engaging performance of Nicola Walker. 

The plots, one per episode, are plausible enough as investigations, but are somewhat lightened by her soliloquies rather than darkened by over-dramatization as is often the case in story-lines of this type.  Not Nordic noir, more like Scandi gris. As ever these days, beautifully photographed scenery plays a starring role. More entertaining than observational of the ways of the modern world, so far that is. Interesting to highlight the Scandinavian cultural influence on coastal Scotland. A relaxing evening's viewing after a weekend busy with visitors.

Automatic renewal: opt-in or opt-out?

When I switched my phone on before breakfast this morning, I was shocked to receive an email from the Staysure travel insurance company with my new policy document and confirmation of payment on this the date of renewal. A payment had been taken from my account without authorisation, and this immediately aroused a sense of alarm in me. It didn't seem to be a scam. I've had a set of documents by email like this every year since I started insuring with them, which must be ten years or more now. 

My first thought was to go to the only HSBC bank branch in the city centre and block the payment if it wasn't too late already. Then I found a phone number for Staysure and explained what he happened. The call hander was very helpful, and a brief discussion revealed that policy renewal was automatic and had to be opted out of, not op-in. I hadn't notice this when buying a policy this time last year. I expressed concern at this, as their protocol includes medical screening in establishing the correct price quotation. 

In every other year pre-covid, renewal hadn't been automatic. My euro-locum duties and our river holiday cruises had been on different dates, and insurance booked to start before the first outing of the year. I always took an annual policy expecting to go abroad more than once a year, one way or another, making it slightly cheaper than shorter duration policies. How this happened I have no idea. I can't have noticed it on the Staysure website when I paid last year. Anyway the call handler said that a case worker would call me back some time soon. 

I walked down to Cowbridge Road, and caught the 62 bus the rest of the way to go to HSBC bank, and a call came through from Staysure's case worker just as I was getting off the bus outside the HMRC building. I explained that I cannot use an insurance police abroad for the time being due to commitments keeping me in Britain. I hadn't responded to the usual renewal reminder emails as I wasn't ready to renew, and would need to update my medical screening details at the time the policy was due to start. I was asked if I wanted to cancel the policy, which obviously I did, and that concluded the conversation.

I visited HSBC bank and asked if it was possible to stop money being taken without my authorisation and was told it wasn't, and given a printout stating that the payment is 'pending' - issued at 07.30 today - although banking transactions for the day aren't concluded until late afternoon. I was told nothing could be done, but I could track payment using on-line apps. Which I don't and won't with HSBC anyway. What if it had been a scam? A fraudulent transaction of which I was unaware? I found this extremely unhelpful. 

Fortunately by the time I left the bank, Staysure emailed me confirmation of cancellation of the policy and reversal of the direct debit, though how long it will take is anybody's guess. At least it's a standard feature of such insurance policies to give the purchaser time to change their mind and cancel or modify the policy taken out. This opt-out of automatic renewal issue is cause for disquiet. It's one which is used by Amazon Prime to retain subscribers, by making it hard to find the opt-out option. I'll need to be much more careful in future when closing the deal on any policy of this kind.

I went straight home on the bus and did my share of the housework as Clare was cooking lunch. Later, I went for a walk in the park, chatted at length on the phone with Owain and Rufus. Then I started watching the last of the four newest episodes of 'Beck' on iPlayer, before they are screened live, before and after supper. 

Again, very good drama. Peter Haber who plays Beck is a fine actor. He's getting on in years himself now, but plays the part of the elder statesman among detectives superbly, portraying a wise intelligent sensitive team leader, but exposing the vulnerability that's part of growing old, wanting to do things which physically he can't sustain any longer because the stress is debilitating, and there's not enough energy sustaining adrenaline flowing through the body. It's something I can identify with.

Unlikely story

I work up to another disappointing day of non-stop rain. After breakfast, I worked on a biblical reflection for next week's Morning Prayer offering, and then cooked paella for lunch. I haven't done that for a while. I ran out of pimenton dulce, and decided to go into town and buy some at Wally's delicatessen, to have something to motivate me to put my waterproofs on and get out of the house. I took the bus part of the way, but still got very wet. Wally's was out of pimenton dulce, so I had a fruitless journey. 

I visited John Lewis' to see if there was anything of interest in the January sales, but saw nothing. I was amused to see the SD card equivalent which I bought yesterday at Tesco's at more than twice what I paid for it. I hung around looking at things until my rain coat dried out, then headed out into to rain and got wet again, taking the bus over to Canton from the Holiday Inn and walking the rest of the way.

In the evening I watched the first double episode of the new season 26 of 'Silent Witness'. A rather over dramatised complex detective story with lots of forensics in it presented more like a spy thriller. The story hinged around the identity of a top officer in the National Crime Agency being a child of the Italian n'Drangeta crime cartel, corrupting and diverting investigations from above. 

It's so implausible to even consider that the female culprit's origins wouldn't be meticulously vetted by MI5 before getting a job in an anti-terror agency. Unless that's a forensic investigation tale for later in the series. Any silly idea is up for grabs in a way out series like this, as has been seen in the past. The story was weird enough but, too much of the final minutes of this story were shot in semi darkness obscuring the outcome in a confusing way. I hope this trend doesn't persist.

By the time it was over it had stopped raining for the day, more or less, so I went out for another half hour walk in the park to get some late night fresh air, and then head for bed.

So far so good

Another sub-zero night, but with the air so dry I slept well and slept late. After breakfast, I found a CD in our collection of my late beloved colleague and friend Patrick Rosheuvel, with whom I used to perform on occasions when we both worked for USPG. He was a gifted singer / songwriter and with backing from the remarkable bass and tuba instrumentalist Herbie Flowers, he recorded an album of two dozen of his own love songs called 'Special Feelings'. Rachel remembered me practicing and singing them when she was a kid, and asked me about him and his children Golda and John the other day. Golda is a top notch performer in musical theatre and John is a composer of film music nowadays. Another case of creative clergy children!

She was asking about a particular song she'd been trying to remember with Jasmine, but I thought she'd like to be able to hear them again some thirty five years on from when the album came out. Originally I digitized the double disk album and made MP3s of all the tracks on my Linux laptop, but wasn't aware I'd saved them on to its hard drive, and started ripping the CD, but it got stuck and crashed half way through. I had to switch to my desktop Windows 10 PC, which also has a CD drive. Initially I couldn't find ripping software on it, then I found legacy Windows Media Player app from Windows 7 days which can rip CDs and this did the job nicely, so I uploaded the folder with all 24 songs in it to my Google Drive and sent Rachel a link to it. Far easier than burning another CD and mailing it to her.

I discovered that I didn't have Audacity on my desktop PC, but when I tried to use it for a small editing job I couldn't finish the job by installed the LAME library of file compression / decompression files. It's a fiddle job which I've done several times before, but forgotten how to do it properly, so it's not possible to use Audacity on this machine yet. So annoying, when I have it installed and working properly on my Windows and Linux laptops.

Clare cooked lunch and with our veg we had some sardines bought from the market frozen when freshly filleted and pan fried. A delicious treat on a chilly day, to remind me of the everyday delights of the Costa del Sol to come in the New Year. 

It was getting close to sunset when I went for a tentative walk without ankle or knee support, willing to turn back to home at any time if I felt uncomfortable without them, but I didn't fortunately. No adverse effects, and I covered two thirds of my usual distance quota today, first to the chemists to pick up my prescription medications, and then down to Pontcanna Fields and Blackweir, getting back at twilight as the temperature was dropping from just above to below zero. So far so good with ankle recovery, I'm grateful to say.

While I was at Blackweir, the camera announced that the 16GB SD card memory was full. Fortunately I carry a card in my wallet, so no evening light opportunities were missed. When I checked the file stats, I found that it contained 2,250 photos taken over 21 months. And that's just one of three cameras I use! It took me a while after supper to transfer the contents, along with those from the previous SD card in this camera, to a slower 32GB SD card for archive storage. This frees two faster SD cards for re-use, a total of 5,000 photos taken with the HX90 since I bought it, mid 2018. It's still working well, despite the cracked casing and missing flash pop-up mechanism.

My choice of viewing for the rest of the evening was a couple of episodes of a new series on iPlayer called 'Granite Harbour'. It's a police procedural story set in Aberdeen, featuring a trainee detective who's an ex military policeman, whose basic training was with the 'Red Stripe' Jamaica police service where he hailed from. He's unusually sharp and self confident with ten years policing behind him, and not adjusting easily to being the junior member of a team with more cautious investigative methods than he's used to. It's good to hear a cultured native Jamaican accent, clear and untainted by evolution in a British environment. By way of contrast, the Aberdonian accent of many cast members mumbled for the movies, is on times hard to decipher from time to time. A good storyline and well worth watching.

Soaked through

I posted my prayer video link to WhatsApp later than usual as I slept until quarter past eight. Sara was up before the rest of, making herself a mug of very strong coffee. She's a very early riser at home. I didn't go to St John's for the Eucharist, but was surprised and delighted to learn later from WhatsApp that the Thursday morning 'Warm Church' initiative went from no visitors last week to around forty today, many of them mothers with children. This may be a result of something spread on local social media I guess. I do hope the interest and interest continues and that something similar happens in St Catherine's and St Luke's.

Mid morning, we walked to the Cathedral across Llandaff Fields and got caught in an unexpected heavy downpour, which soaked my top coat right through. It stopped a few minutes after we sheltered under a tree which still had leaves, and we continued, feeling rather damp. I showed them around the Cathedral and told them something of its history and use today, then we returned for lunch, most of which I had prepared before we went out, and didn't take long to bring to the table.

It rained again on and off for the rest of the afternoon, and our guests were tired, and didn't want to get wet again, so we didn't go out again as intended to visit the Bay. We sat around and talked most of the time. although I did make a trip out when the rain stopped to buy a few things we were running out of. After supper Sara and Ebba went to bed just after eight, which is nine according to their body clocks. I watched the last two episodes of 'Wisting' on iPlayer, as it's unlikely anyone will be interested in watching this on Saturday except me. Then, after hearing news of the latest rise in bank interest rates, bad for borrowers but good for savers, it was time for me to turn in.

Left in Limbo

With the car in for MOT, I had to leave for St German's before ten this morning, to look for a bus to take me into town. When I reached the junction of Romilly Road and Llandaff road, I could see a 61 waiting behind a car for the lights to change. I took off and ran the hundred yards to the next stop at the Methodist Church, and was there before it arrived. It dropped me off in Wood Street at ten past ten, and then I walked the rest of the way, arriving at church just after half past ten. It was bright and sunny with a cool breeze, a perfect summer morning to rejoice in. The church was filled with bright sunlight and clouds of incense. It was a lovely celebration. The congregation say they'll miss me, but I'll miss them all as well. It's been a place of refuge and great comfort to me since I retired.

I had a lift home with Fr Malcolm, and arrived at the usual time which surprised Clare, who was expecting me to be late returning. After lunch, I revived my Post Office Money Card with some Euros, and loaded the app on my phone, all of which was easier than I imagined, and drew some more sterling from the bank to pay for my airport taxi. All I need to do tomorrow is acquire Euros in cash. A trial packing of my new travel bags hasn't presented any problems, so I'm nearly ready to go. 

After her siesta I helped Clare navigate through the on-line check-in procedure to get her flight boarding pass. Even though it's a month away, she already had a seat booked, so this was possible. Then I took her to the location of the veggie bag drop-off depot, as she's not had to collect from the new site before.

I continued watching remaining episodes of 'Trom' on BBC iPlayer during the evening. It reached a fair conclusion, then there was a surprise cliff hanger ending, which means a second series is proposed, but there's no indication of whether this has been made yet, let alone launched in Denmark. The first six episodes were made this year, so disappointingly we're left in narrative limbo.

There's no shortage of MPs promoting themselves as a future Tory Prime Minister even before electoral rules governing the contest are officially announced. If only they realised how silly they all look.

Money - received and requested

Another Monday with sunshine poking through the clouds. It's starting to get warmer by night as well as day now. After breakfast, vacuuming the carpet, then tidying away a neglected pile of financial papers in my study. This was prompted by puzzlement over a deposit into my expenses account of three hundred and eighty pounds, labelled 'pension payment', not where it originated. I wonder if this is the government's promised subsidy of the soaring cost of energy? The only other government payment into this account is the Winter Fuel allowance. Ah well, gratefully received.

I had an email from Clare at St Catherine's asking for help in completing a request for information needed to fill in an application form for a grant from the Pantyfedwyn Trust to help pay for the repainting of the church chancel and south aisle, which is already under way. It turns out there's a deadline for handing it in, and as Mother Francis is on leave he asked me. It's a dozen years since I last did anything of this nature, involving a brief profile of the church and its mission, but it's  one of those bureaucratic things you don't forget how to do. I quite enjoyed the little challenge.

By the time I'd finished this, it was one o'clock and Clare had just arrived from her first ever Pilates class. I had to prepare a cooked lunch rather quicker than usual, but half an hour later we sat down and ate a dish of mackerel fillets and three veg. Then I walked for a couple of hours, up and down the river, and ended with a visit to Tesco's for a bottle of their quite acceptable bargain Chilean Pinot Noir. It's the first time that I've fancied a drink of wine since the cold started, so it seems like I'm now through the worst of it. But was it a cold? Strangely, Clare hasn't caught it from me. There are reports of this year's pollen conditions being unusually detrimental to anyone who is affected. At the outset I wondered if my symptoms were due to pollen rather than a cold. My strong reaction led me to think it was a cold. Now I'm not so sure.

After supper, I watched the second of the Iolo Williams nature programmes about  Anglesey wildlife on iPlayer, and then 'Springwatch' live. Most amazing was the sight of a reclusive Bittern, a waterfowl which hides in reed beds, heard but rarely seen. It was filmed on the wing with its unusual fluid graceful wing movements. What a treat! Finally, this week's new crimmie 'Sherwood', set in a Nottinghamshire ex-pit village over thirty years after a miners strike which divided workers and residents of some villages in a way which many involved still haven't forgotten and moved on from. It's an unusual setting for a murder mystery - superbly acted, even if on times subtitles would be useful, as the accents seem quite authentic.

Before switching off for the night, I visited the NHS website and submitted a digital application for both Clare and myself for the new GHIC card which post-Brexit replaces the EHIC card giving you access to basic medical treatement in EU countries. I was pleased to see how simple and straightforward the process is, as with the new generation of .gov websites. The cards are free, but money still needs spending on full travel and health insurance cover for my stint of locum duty and subsequent holidays abroad we decide we can afford. That's a chore for another day.

Pluralism on parade

A damp and cloudy day here in Wales, but the weather was decent enough for the last day of the Queen's Jubilee celebration, with a three hour long multi cultural carnival procession to Buckingham Palace down the Mall to come, and Wales playing Ukraine a mile away from here this afternoon for a qualifying place in the football World Cup. The BBC radio Four 'Sunday' religious news programme reflected on the lively faith of the Queen, and her slow careful transformation of the understanding of her 'Fid Def' role as it says on the coins, from being Defender of the Faith (understood as protestant religion, to Defender of Faith, affirming and protecting the freedoms and equality of all religious belief communities in Britain. 

Prince Charles spoke of this paradigm shift a couple of decades ago, in terms of his understanding of what the Monarch should be. Then he was castigated by media for not toeing the traditional line. By the time he becomes king this shift will be reflected in what it now means to be head of the Established Church, a role he inherits from his mother. The Anglican church may still have some way to go to be acknowledged as fully diverse and inclusive, but it has made a substantial start during my lifetime, thanks to the influence of the Queen and her clergy. 

The roads were very quiet when I drove to St German's to celebrate Mass with just two dozen others this morning. Eye surgeon Andrew was in church, just back from a stint in Malawi. We talked briefly about when I might be booked in after the three month delay thanks to covid. My spell of locum duty intervenes with the possibility of getting it done this summer. After the op apparently, one must use special eye drops daily for a month. If it were possible to fit in the surgery before I go, I'd have to self administer without Clare's support in an environment different from home, and a lot hotter. This could complicate the recovery process, so it's better to plan for early autumn surgery.

I think I may have gone on too long about the Queen in my Pentecost Sunday sermon. It was a quarter past one when I got back home for lunch, and the roads weren't especially crowded despite the football match this afternoon. After lunch I discovered that I'd lost my fitbit. I search the house but there was no sign. It must have popped out of its wristband, possibly when I was vesting or divesting myself in the sacristy, before or after Mass. I think I may need to go over there tomorrow and hunt for it. Until I find it or buy a replacement, I'll have to rely on my phone's pedometer, and be sure to carry it around with me. I've come to rely on it to maintain a consistent degree of physical activity daily, even if I don't feel like it. Clare thinks I'm obsessional.

We went for a walk along the Taff after lunch. I saw swifts and swallows foraging over the river. About a six weeks ago I saw a solitary swift, but none since. To see half a dozen passerines, to give swallows, swifts and martins their generic ornithological name, we gratifying, almost I might say, a relief, as the numbers making the journey from southern Africa is in steep decline.

I watched an hour and a half of this afternoon's Jubilee parade with Clare on BBC iPlayer - mercifully with no commentary, just the stunning images of thousands of participants all dressed up imaginatively in carnival costume reflecting the culture of their places of Commonwealth origin. An immense creative enterprise, a masterpiece of a showcase for Britain's cultural diversity, as well as tell the story of social and technical development over the past seventy years. The footage shown was unedited and required a certain amount of fast forwarding with the zapper in hand, as the procession was so slow moving. There will be edited highlights with people wittering on in the background, no doubt, but the raw visuals of the occasion were a true feast for the eye.

Best of all, as the event drew to a close, Her Majesty appeared with other royals on the balcony of the Palace, for the singing of the national anthem and to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd. I couldn't have sat through the whole thing live anyway when needing exercise, but this re-run gave me an hour of the three to enjoy, before being diverted to the laptop to watch last Monday's episode of 'The Blacklist' on 5USA. Why am I still watching this series? Each episode is rather predictable, but there is a linking spy story narrative thread between crime solving episodes. I'm waiting to see when the improbable turns into the ridiculously impossible. Daft really.

Viewing promise and pleasure

Today we were advised to stay indoors, and although it was pretty windy in the morning, it was no worse than it had been for days. There was also sunshine and clouds constantly changing shape moving at speed, driven by westerly gale force winds, and after lunch I ventured out for a walk to see what damage had been done. I'm sure that down on the coast it would indeed have been dangerous to go out, but the Cardiff coastal flood plain sits beneath a 70 metre ridge on the west side, enough to deflect the full force of any wind from the west.

I started writing and recording uninterruptedly next week's Morning Prayer video after breakfast, and had uploaded it to YouTube before we had lunch. It was pleasing to achieve that in a spell of down-time with nothing else to do. 

I walked over to Tesco's to look for a replacement steam mop, but they didn't stock one. B&M, the bargain supermarket did however. I bought one, and then went to Aldi's supermarket for some wine, lugging the box with the mop in it. With a bit more planning I would have gone to Aldi first and not B&M. How silly of me. While I was in the store there was a shower of hailstones and then rain, the wind blowing cold and hot in turn. It didn't last long. The setting sun poked through dark storm clouds. It was quite spectacular and in five minutes I was walking home again, with the wind dying down and no more rain or hail. I felt quite exhilarated.

I've had confirmation today from eye surgeon Andrew that the forthcoming cataract operation he plans to organise for me will be pro bono. How amazing is that! It's strange that the visual impairment I have is hardly noticeable in bright sunny weather, only in some low light conditions and when using a camera viewfinder. When the sun is low in the sky, no matter how bright, it tends to trigger a migraine aura, and that's a real worry. Night driving isn't too bad, although I get double vision in the worst eye. Funnily enough with a phone or computer screen, although I'm aware of slightly misty vision, it doesn't hinder reading, as long as I wear reading specs'. It's low light that really makes me aware of the problem that now seems within reach of being resolved. I'm amazed and thanking God.

This evening, I finished watching 'La Promesse' with its unusual denouement and family reconciliation as a happy ending. Interesting - this is the second serialised French crime drama in a row I've watched in which there's a happy family ending in the face of an embedded tragedy. The last one - 'Beyond Appearances' also featured a female led storyline, but was about a TV show presenter and her twin.

Job done, I spent and hour writing and then watched another Rocco Schiavone episode, weaving his back story with that of an investigation into a double patricide. Rocco is a rough cut version of Salvo Montalbano. Working out which sibling was the perpetrator was a long unexpected journey, with more moments of ribald Italian humour. And the views of the Val d'Aosta are so gorgeous!

Stormy weather ahead

A cold and windy day today, but nearly as bad as it has been in Scotland and the North of England where storm force winds have played havoc with power lines. Another big storm front is expected to hit further south tomorrow, bad enough for flood alerts in the Bristol Channel and recommendations for people to stay home and not travel unless they have to in order to minimise the impact on emergency services. This is the shape of things to come thanks to increased violence and frequency of storms as a result of global heating. In effect, government agencies are making an effort to build national resilience in the face of such a change by developing early warning measures.

I went to the Eucharist at St John's this morning. There were just six of us present. I did some writing when I got back, then cooked lunch for us, then went for a walk down to the river. It was very cold again and the water was running high. The wind was strong enough to push me around in between bouts of calm. I heard a Great Tit calling high up in a tree, with another one answering in the distance, I spotted it among the bare branches and took a few photos like this one. 

Then some preparatory work for next week's Morning Prayer upload, and after supper an evening of binge watching Saturday's BBC Four French crimmie, 'La Promesse' since all six episodes are available on iPlayer. It has developed into a tragic family drama, thrown into crisis by a policeman father's over involvement in a case of abduction in his local village, which he promises to solve and fails. His elder daughter becomes a cop and takes up the cold case while investigating another child abduction twenty years later. You have to get used to the story flashing between past and present, a favourite device with French cinéastes I think.

Tap improvement

When I surfaced from sleep, Clare was awake and up cooking pancakes about half past six this morning. It turned out that she'd mis-read the clock. It didn't matter as she wanted to breakfast over earlier than usual for a Saturday since a plumber was arriving at nine thirty to install the new mixer tap for the kitchen sink. 

We made a good choice of tap and plumber as he fixed an error made when the original was installed that we've lived with for the past eleven years. Now at last we have the hot tap on the left and the cold on the right, as they are in every other sink in the house. Such a small change, but what an immediate difference it makes to the feel of working at the kitchen sink. While the plumber did the job, I recorded the audio for next Thursday upstairs, then added a slideshow and uploaded the video to YouTube before cooking lunch.

The rain stopped in the afternoon, so we took a muddy walk through Bute Park woods and had a coffee at the Secret Garden Café on the way back. The river Taff has risen up to cover the fish ladder again as it last did on New Year's Eve. It's rained most days since then, for hours at a time day and night. The Fields are getting waterlogged again, but I doubt if they will flood again back in February 2020, as the river bed and banks underwent a drastic surplus vegetation clearance operation to ensure unimpeded flow. The river runs much faster when in full spate these days. Let's hope it stays that way.

Nothing much of interest on telly this evening. On Four the thirty-sixth and last episode of 'Inspector Montalbano' available on iPlayer is being shown again in the Saturday Euro-crimmie slot. I think this is for the fourth time in two years. It's good, but I don't want to watch it again. There is a thirty-seventh episode, aired in Italian in 2021, but it hasn't yet been produced for a British audience. We're still waiting. All there is to do this evening is complete and print tomorrow's Epiphany sermon, and turn in.

Time to say thank you

Mid morning, I drove Clare over to the University Optometry school to get her new set of varifocal specs, her second pair this year, as her eyes have deteriorated further and she needs to make the most of her eyesight while she can, before she is compelled to learn how to use voice recognition technology with the phone and the computer. We called into Lidi's nearby afterwards, where she bought a anti-snore pillow, which turned out to be nothing of the sort - more likely a wrongly packaged standard pillow. Too late to return it once it's been used. 

With a couple of trips to the shops and Post Office, my days exercise was done pounding the streets under a layer of grey cloud - there is visual relief however, from Christmas trees revealed behind open curtains and strings of coloured festive lights, increasingly spread outdoors to front garden trees and fences.

Then I settled down to finish the thank you letter started over the weekend to Mrs Cornish the surgeon. As the wound is now tiny and almost completely closed, I felt it was time. I've been reluctant to write this any earlier, when I might well have done - a bit like tempting Providence. It's now three years almost to the day since I was given an initial date for surgery. I have so much to be thankful for, given the intrusion of the pandemic, and several other delays in between rounds of surgery due to resource shortages. 

I guess if anything has changed in three years it has been not just in staffing, but in improved availability of some equipment, and organisational efficiency. There are still big problems due to lack of functioning wards, shortage of nurses, and lack of home care to enable early patient discharge to avoid bed blocking, but covid has brought a revolution in emergency care and diagnostics, and this makes possible different ways of treating people. 

I heard an industrial scientist on the radio talking about a proposal for a global health monitoring system to spot evolving deadly viruses which could give rise to another pandemic. It would issue a global threat alert early enough to take preemptive action. It would network monitoring technology analysing soil, air, water, especially waste water, relating them to medical and veterinary pathology data. It would require huge investment and political consensus, but save the world from economic ruin and high death tolls in future generations.  

I completed and uploaded to YouTube this Thursday's Morning Prayer video, wrote a biblical reflection for next Thursday's video and recorded the half of the audio. This minimises the amount of preparation I have to do alongside Christmas services and family celebrations. It's going to be a busy week.

Before bed I started watching the movie 'King of Thieves' based on the 2015 Hatton Garden bank vault robbery. It was said to be masterminded and pulled off by a group of retired London East End thieves in their sixties, and starred Michael Caine, Jim Broadbent and Tom Courtenay - a brilliant portrayal of a group of elderly working class males, a non-genteel 'Lunnon' equivalent to 'Days of Wine and Roses

The dialogue was hilarious, mostly comprising old school abusive gangster language, such as you might hear in any rough back street pub or football terrace. Anything but politically correct, so the movie was preceded by a 'health warning'. I had to give up and go to bed before midnight approached as it didn't finish until late, so I'll have to watch the last quarter in iPlayer.

Leaf invasion

A clear cold night and a day of gusting icy north winds disrupting rail and road traffic in many parts of the country. Owain returned to Bristol after a late breakfast. We wondered if he'd be affected by train services being disrupted, but thankfully this didn't happen. It was lovely having him with us for two nights in a row sharing meals and walking together down to the Taff. For him it was also catch up time with friends he'd not seen since before the pandemic. Last night he met many of them at a techno club in Jacob's Market, one of his old haunts when he lived here.

I had a rare weekend call from John at Pidgeon's about a funeral a week Monday - that'll be two in the same week. It's that time of year, I suppose, pandemic notwithstanding. 

When I went out for a walk after lunch it was bitterly cold and I had to walk hard not to get chilled. Wind had swept all the golden brown leaves away from the trees, leaving the grass clean and green. They were piled them up knee deep around parked cars on Penhill Road, rather unsafe left uncleared, to my mind, as they are dry enough to be inflammable. 

When I'd had enough of the cold, I returned and watched part two of the 'Millennium Trilogy' on BBC iPlayer, rather than staying up late and watching it this evening. I don't think I've seen it before, despite seeing part one. In the end I don't think I got to bed any earlier.

Having missed out on Saturday breakfast pancakes, Clare cooked some for supper, which was a pleasant change. I then went out for some fresh air and found that the pavement on the east side of Llanfair Road was covered, knee deep with leaves, blown down from Penhill Road. That's a lot of work for the residents to deal with. The Council doesn't have a good record on autumn leaf clearance unfortunately. I don't think I've ever seen such a huge amount of leaves shifted by the wind in less than a day.

Tomorrow's Advent Sunday sermon printed out ready to go. Another Christian calendar year starting all over again. Time flies.

Creative flow returns

Monday morning alongside domestic chores and cooking lunch, I set my mind to work on a new piece of creative writing. For some weeks I have been reflecting on the life and times of St German and looking for a way of showing how stories about him relate to some of our contemporary issues and concerns. I began with thinking about a series of talks and seminars, but decided that would involve too much organising and recruiting, thinks I no longer have to contacts to make happen. 

Then it occurred to me that a sequence of playlets around scenes from his life could be a good way of conveying ideas and getting them discussed especially if I could turn them into a podcast. So I started writing in free moments in between jobs and a afternoon walk, then again after going over to St German's to celebrate the Vigil Mass of Holy Cross Day, which is tomorrow. I was surprised  at how easily dialogue came to mind, and how quickly time passed. 

Imaginative exercise has raised my spirits. I don't suffer from writers' block, but I've imposed limits on my imagination this past year or so, putting much of my effort into following scientific developments from day to day, putting as much energy into reasoning and understanding what's going on as an antidote to fear and despair. I feel as if I've been let out of my walled garden and set free to roam the world, even if it is the rather ancient world of fifth century Gaul my mind is exploring at the moment!

This morning I drove to Thornhill to officiate at a funeral followed by a burial in the cemetery. Rain was expected but none came thankfully. The chapel seating capacity has new returned to what it was before the pandemic, and people are free to sing hymns, though not to remove their masks indoors. A grand daughter of the deceased gave the tearful eulogy. Her father died suddenly as lock-down began and only ten could be at his funeral. Fifty family and friends turned out today and instinctively spread themselves out in the chapel, many of them would have been mourners at her father funeral as well, so it was a kind of catch-up in recognising their double loss, which I was keen to do. Several present expressed their appreciation for this afterwards.

After lunch, I did my daily exercise then continued writing until after supper. again this week I watched last night's episode of 'Silent Witness' on iPlayer and then tonight's episode live. This introduced a new character a bright teenager who was profoundly deaf and communicated brilliantly with sign language and mobile phone text messaging. It really gave a lift to the proceedings. One story thread seemed to develop and then vanish inconclusively, unless it's going to return as part of another story next week of course.

More writing, then bed.

Mystifying mumbling

After breakfast this morning, I walked to the Co-op to do the week's grocery shopping live, to spare Clare the hassle of doing it on-line as she's done since lockdown started. A little bit of the old normality resumed for pleasure. There was quite a queue at the checkout after I'd gathered my purchases. Just on of the five tills was working. I noticed a Deliveroo rider leaving with a heavy pack, someone's on-line order. It occurred to me that several of the counter staff were out in the store behind the store picking and packing ol-line orders. The regular staff must still be under a lot of pressure.

After cooking and eating lunch with Clare I walked over to the museum, my first visit since I met Laura Ciobanu for a coffee there on her visit from Romania three years ago. The museum re-opened a couple of months ago with all the necessary safety procedures in place but with several exhibition galleries out of action, as major roof repairs are still in progress. I didn't realise you still had to pre-book on-line, until I reached there, but the stewards on the door kindly registered my contact details on the spot, since they weren't all that busy and had room for more visitors. 

The main feature at the moment is a biographical exhibition about the life of Welsh actor Richard Burton, with photos and artifacts as well as texts telling of his up-bringing in the Afan Valley and his career as a Shakesperian actor and film star. In later life he lived and died a resident of Celigny (GE) where my friend Valdo was pastor when I was Chaplain in Geneva eight years after Burton's demise. I remember being shown his modern house at the edge of the village which he named 'Pays de Galles'.

I took my Sony HX300 with me into town and took some photos before visiting Cardiff Camera Centre to see if it would be worthwhile having it repaired, as it has developed a permanent error message, and the manual ring which alters telephoto length no longer works. For the time being, with a simple workaround it still takes good photos, but I think it's days are numbered as my HX50 developed the same fault and died on me three years ago. It turns out the cost of fixing it is more than the camera is now worth, so I'll just have to keep using it as it is until it packs in. It's a shame I can't repair it myself but it requires specialist tools to dismantle it.

After supper I watched yesterday's first part of a new story in a new series of 'Silent Witness' on BBC iPlayer, then the second one live. A complex plot with a confused crisis type ending, made unintelligible by mumbled dialogue. I'll have to watch the last five minutes again with sub-titles to understand how it actually finished. I've had the same trouble also with newer episodes of NCIS, reduced to guessing what's being said, even with the volume turned up. Am I that deaf or is this some new style of acting aiming to keep the audience in the dark?

Freedom or more chaos?

I enjoyed a long and relaxed night's sleep without a duvet as the air temperature was a comfortable 23C and it wasn't too humid. Under the bright morning sun, the temperature went up to about 30C again. For me the sensation was just like being back in Malaga, and awakened memories of beautiful days under the sun. It's going to be a good while before I can return there with shifting sands of pandemic management and new viral variant threats making the future uncertain, except for the rich and crazy people determined to travel no matter what the cost to themselves and others. 

Today, the other side of Offa's Dyke, all legal covid restrictions are removed as covid delta variant infections continue to soar. What was made obligatory in similar conditions a year ago becomes optional, relying entirely on the numbers vaccinated to mitigate the impact. The Prime Minister and two cabinet ministers are now in quarantine, having realised that those in Downing Street 'pinged' by the track 'n trace app cannot get away with being infection tested daily, when hundreds of thousands around the country have to stop work and self isolate for the same reason, whether infected or not. 

Previews of an interview with Boris' former advisor Dominic Cummings released ahead of tomorrow night's broadcast give an impression of the chaotic reaction by Boris and his cabinet cronies at the beginning of the pandemic, when denial at the seriousness of the situation seemed to be the initial reaction, people reluctant to believe it was as bad as the scientific advisors said it was. But how many of them have any proper medical or scientific training in anything? Cummings is on a mission of vengeful boat rocking. The trouble is, his personal credibility was ruined by his own behaviour. Even if he tells the truth, he'll be doubted because of his motives, even if the evidence he presents vindicates him. It's as good as any political soap opera we've seen on telly in the past quarter century.

I took a trip to Tesco's before cooking lunch, uploaded photos and wrote a few things before Clare and I walked for an hour along the Taff, as much in the shade as possible. Clare doesn't enjoy the heat like I do. After supper, another episode of Iolo Williams's wildlife programme series on Pembrokeshire with some stunning photos of Kingfishers and their two fledgling chicks. So inspiring. Then I squeezed in a second episode of 'Baptiste', available in full on BBC iPlayer, before this week's new episode of NCIS series 17. Another guest appearance of Cote de Pablo as Ziva in a rather confusing (or was it just too fast moving for me?) part two follow through from last week's episode, before she mysteriously disappears again. I didn't find this reprise of an old story worth the effort that undoubtedly went into providing fans with closure. It felt tired, and un-glamorous.