The English Professor T

More clouds with intermittent sunshine and cloudbursts today with the occasional spell of strong gusts of wind. A new challenge for me this Sunday morning, having to get up early enough to be out of the house and walking down to St John's to preach at the nine o'clock Eucharist, celebrated by Fr Rhys, streamed on line from Andrew's iPhone, with a little help from my Blackberry providing a wi-fi hotspot, something his partner Martin's phone usually does, but today he and his phone were over in Germany visiting his mother.

I then walked  to St Catherine's to preach there while Fr Rhys celebrated, and also sang in the choir, as did Clare. Before we went home for lunch we had a choir practice for Wednesday's funeral, so all in all it was a busy morning. Even more so for Fr Rhys who had then to officiate at a Christening at one thirty. It's the kind of workload which us clergy would have taken in our stride a few years back, but covid safety disciplines in celebrating any public service seem to make it that much more demanding than routine used to seem. 

Church restrictions will be phased out now that Wales is down to level zero, but a legacy of tension and uncertainty still exists. Between the two Eucharists we ministered to fifty people this morning, half of what it would have been before covid. Will all the missing people return eventually? Will some be content to attend mostly on line, while others find other things to do on Sunday mornings, as have three quarters of the church attending population at the turn of the century?

After lunch an hour sound asleep on the front room sofa after doing my daily DuoLingo exercises, then a bracing walk in Llandaff Fields, thanks to the strong wind, then another short walk  around Thompson's Park with Clare after she surfaced from her siesta. It's good not to feel exhausted by getting up early. After supper we watched the on-line Eisteddfod Cymanfa Ganu, with its socially distanced congregation, choir and musicians on stage. I don't think it was in any sense a live broadcast, but an edited recording of hymns sung by the congregation, and items performed by the choir, singers and band on stage. A worthy effort, but it wasn't moving emotionally speaking. The event was produced using an open air stage, so it lacked the atmosphere of being situated in a church building or even in the Eisteddfod's marquee 'y pabell binc'.

I then watched an episode of the ITV production of 'Professor T', which I had presumed would be a run of the 2015-2018 Flemish crimmie series on mainstream telly, but turns out to be an all new Engish edition, set in Cambridge with an uptight English version of the eccentric academic genius. It's certainly credible, well conceived and watchable if you haven't seen the original, but I watched all thirty nine episodes, a couple of years ago, and am familiar with the whole story and its plethora of plot-lines. Will it run for that long, or will it be edited down to a more suitable length for a prime time Sunday TV series - these rarely run for more than six episodes. 

There's a sixteen episode German rendering of the Professor T series. Does this edit or condense the narrative? I don't know, but I'm intrigued to see if this series will be limited to six episodes. I found the Flemish production very watchable, despite or maybe because of sub-titles which did more than just translate dialogue, helping to watcher to appreciate what the Professor was talking about, as he theorised about crimes and victims. If you miss any of the dialogue in this English version you might be robbed of plot insight. 

Also the comedic side of the Flemish series made hilarious use of non-verbals and some superb acting, by Koen de Bouw as the Prof and Goele Derick as his long suffering secretary. They set the bar very high. The English series has the brilliant Francis de la Tour as the Prof's eccentric aged mother  and comedian Ben Miller as the Prof, who also starred in 'Death in Paradise' which may work against him, as that role was a straight detective part. I'm more interested to see how he develops the character he plays than the individual plots, already familiar. I felt the Flemish series gave some good insight into the suffering of mental illness and trauma. 

The Olympics in Quarantine

Another hot sunny day, albeit a little cooler and cloudier than the rest of this week. There are warnings of thunderstorms and downpours ahead of us this weekend, but it's unclear which localities in South Wales will be affected, as the low and high pressure air masses meet up. It remains to be seen what the Gower's localised weather pattern will be. One thing is certain, all five of us are looking forward to meeting up, no matter what the weather does. 

I didn't do much other than read news articles on-line, apart from a trip to the shops before lunch. Clare and I watched the first part of the Olympics opening ceremony together. I got bored once the athletes' procession started and went for a walk into town. Even so, the opening performance was beautiful to watch and listen to, wonderful choreography, use of colour and rhythms. There was it seems, even more astounding visual elements at the end when the Olympic (hydrogen powered) flame was lit, atop a symbolic Mount Fuji with a rising sun. The run up to the games has been full of contention due to covid surge fears.  And there are a small number of athletes who have developed covid during or since arrival. The country is under lockdown and the Olympic constituency severely restricted in their ability to move around. They won't be seeing much of Japan this time around, that's for sure.

I set my mind on getting myself a small digital dictating machine, remembering that Olympus still do them. I was pleased to find that Rymans in Queen's Arcade sell them, but the item I wanted was out of stock, so with a bit of luck I'll be able to pick one up next Thursday when we get back from the Gower.  

I'm fed up of the vagaries of using my phone's voice recorder. It's too easy to stop it by touching the screen accidentally, or an incoming call or message cutting into the recording. Also the digital file shows that there's a tiny pulse on the track which doesn't belong. It's almost inaudible, but certainly visible when working on a file in Audacity. It would be nice to have a good clean audio file to work with, and hopefully I can get that with a new piece of kit. 

I also went to the Ecco shoe shop and found that they sell strong supportive leather insoles, better than any others I have seen in shoe shops, so I have ordered a pair, to collect next week.

A call came in this afternoon from a member of Carol's family, asking if I'd give the eulogy at her funeral. It'll be my task to gather together various contributions and deliver them. Depending on numbers, Clare and I may also sing with the St Catherine's choir. Mother Frances will lead the service. Carol and I first met when I was at St John's officiating at the funeral of a family friend, a perhaps for that reason my name was known to them, from times before I settled in as a member of St Catherine's.

This evening a spent several hours updating photo file folders and backups. It's three months since I last made the effort, a thousand photos ago. I watched this week's episode of Nordic Murders as I worked. It was a complex dysfunctional family whodunnit, with a couple of on-going interesting sub plots. As the setting is Usedom on the old East German-Polish border, this series reflects cross border tensions which EU membership and the Schengen Agreement haven't resolved. It's eighty three years since the Nazi German forces overwhelmed Poland, trashed it and wrought great suffering on their neighbours. The shadows of memory are never far away, and open borders still call for a proper respect towards human boundaries of other kinds. It must be an effort to live together without resentment, especially as Poland is in many respects still poorer than Germany.

Phishing or not?

After quite a busy Monday, apart from routine duties and a walk in the park I slept an extra three hours in the day and evening, before finally going to bed at midnight - no change there, go with the flow. The only new thing that came in was a request from Mthr Frances to cover a funeral next Thursday morning, when she's away on leave. I already have a Eucharist to celebrate and a lunchtime funeral at the Res. Both funerals are with Pidgeon's, and the timing works, with a driver picking me up from St John's and taking me to their funeral chapel then a burial in Llandaff cemetery, then a ride to the Res for the second funeral followed bt a burial in Western cemetery. It's a matter of being fully prepared for all three and relying on the funeral directors' teamwork to carry me through.  

A landline phone call yesterday presented a new robotic voice, rather posh, speaking on behalf of the National Crime agency, saying that my National Insurance number had been suspended because it had been detected in use as part of some illegal or immoral activity, and that I should press button one to speak to someone to respond to this allegation or expect to be arrested soon. What juvenile nonsense! The cops would never notify someone before making a surprise visit. How can a NI number be suspended? What purpose would it serve?

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's with nine others this morning, then uploaded photos taken the previous day, and with a fresh burst of energy, recorded and edited tomorrow's WhatsApp daily prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube later in the day. I took our weekly contribution the the foodbank to the Rectory on my afternoon walk, and had a brief chat with Mthr Frances. It's the first time we've seen each other in person four a couple of months. She's looking forward to a holiday up north with her folks next week, as we look forward to a few days in Aberaeron the week after her return. I suspect most people need a respite from routine coping and confinement after a long and difficult year.

Spokespersons for the medical profession are speaking out about members quitting due to burnout or sheer disillusionment. I hear stories of slipping patient care standards and mistakes being made by exhausted staff, who have been forced to go the second mile all to often over the past year. And  ow we have the slow build-up of a third wave of the India coronavirus strain, and although the high number of vaccinated people does reduce the volume of infections and hospitalizations significantly, it means medics  can't relax as this casts a shadow over the resumption of normal planned treatments.

Clare had a live call today, a young man saying he represented the Co-op bank complaints department. We were both suspicious, as banks don't tend to call you except by arrangement, and Clare had no recollection of making a complaint about the Co-op bank, although the Co-op store's on-line grocery ordering service checkout can give rise to complaints on times because of slowness timing out purchasers. The caller asked Clare to prove her identity, and her response was, to ask if he would prove his identity first. Sensible. He referred to the contact phone number on the back of her Co-op debit card, and suggested she called and did the i/d check, as this would end up routing her back to him. Well that's on hold at the moment, to many other things to do apart from chase after a call about a complaint you have no recollection of making.

Never a dull moment

Another broken night's sleep, but at least it's less unpleasant now it's warmer. After breakfast, I had a phone call from Pidgeon's about a funeral in two weeks time. It's of the widow of a man whose service I took exactly three years ago. Her memory was failing at that time and she moved away to the South East to be near her daughter. They want her service to be down here, as they lived in Cardiff for thirty years in later life and it's where their friends still are. When I heard the surname, I recalled all the essential detail immediately, much to the funeral arranger's surprise, and mine for that matter.

As I was jotting down the date and time, a lens dropped out of my specs. Yet again, awful design, although it's my fault for taking them off so frequently, when I don't need them. They took me ten minutes to fix, and lateness panic started to set in. I get distressed if I think I'm losing my grip. Kath drove me over to St German't to celebrate their midweek Mass, and despite traffic we arrived on time. 

It's something I agreed to do before I had any idea of the impact of the operation. I didn't want to cancel unless I was incoherent and drained of energy, and as I have been feeling well despite the discomfort, I thought it would be a test of my recovery. I've done this before over the past two years. It's demoralising to have to cancel and it can undermine confidence, if you're afraid you can't do something when you can. All went well. It was good to have an opportunity to celebrate a Corpus Christi Mass in anticipation of tomorrow's feast, even if there were only four of us present. 

Kath waited to take me home, but instead of staying for the service, wandered off down to Ruby Street in Splott, where she spent her first intense year of training to start her higher education Contemporary Dance course in Coventry University. A little trip down Memory Lane for her, and a photo on Instagram of the dance studio, to mark the sentimental journey.

After lunch Kath and Clare went to town on a clothes shopping trip. I stayed home, with my weekly tasks of collecting our food shopping orders, also Friday's funeral and a eulogy to prepare, and a recording for tomorrow's on-line Matins and Reflection. Jan called about a funeral at 'the Res' while she's on leave too. 

Somehow the afternoon slipped by and after an early supper, Kath took her leave, hopefully rested by her four day break. It was so refreshing to have her with us. Finally, I got around to editing what I'd recorded earlier and uploaded it to YouTube, ready for the morning. This took three hours, by far the hardest task of a busy day, as I was getting tired and unable to sit at my workstation without the distraction of discomfort. I needed stand or kneel at my desk, to control the Windows video editing suite properly. I used audio plus some photos as audio markers. I've done it before to my satisfaction. Being unable to sit and record video was enough reason to repeat the exercise. 

I don't know what consumers think of this. There's little by way of feedback apart from the odd 'Thank you'. It'd help to have an evaluation session involving consumers and users of on-line Parish content, not least to find out who find what's thought easy or hard to achieve. I've noticed a recent switch by producers to video delivery via YouTube with a What's App link. I may not have triggered this, but I experimented with this months ago because of my antique phone hassles. Nothing has been said agreeing to this as policy, we just carry on muddling through. 

I ran out of time for evening exercise, and only walked for an hour today. I acknowledge I'm impatient with myself, but having lived so long with this affliction, getting as close to normal as I can does my heart and mind good, better than medicaiton.

Job Done

Up and out of bed by eight this morning, giving me plenty of time to get ready to walk over to St Luke's to preach at the the Parish Eucharist in support of Mthr Emma presiding, in recovery with laryngitis. There were twenty of us present including an organist and choir of four.

We had lunch at Stefano's at twelve thirty - our first restaurant treat of the year, then returned home and had an hour's siesta, vital, as I had to drive over to Bristol to visit Owain at home, and obtain his signature on a banking mandate to transfer signatures from him and me to James, Amanda's son, who is going to be looking after her trust fund hereafter.

Owain took me to Trooper's Hill, one of his regular therapeutic walks, to enjoy the view. It's a celebrated conservation area, once a 18th century copper smelting industrial site, with an original furnace chimney. left to mark the spot. On the way there we walked along Strawberry Lane through a verdant valley where waste land has been transformed into allotments in recent years, a wonderful witness to what can be done with spare unused plots of land. 

I drove from Owain's place in Redfield to Amanda's place in Southmead to deliver the bank documents in twenty minutes, as the roads were quiet. Normally it would take double the time. It was satisfying to hand over the historic trust fund dossier and signatory document. They'll be in good hands in future. One thing less for me to worry about.

Amanda's in good form. She now has an electric wheelchair and is able to get out of the house on her own without needing carers with her. The next step is an electric bed, which enables her to get in and out without needing assistance. It will free her even more from depending on carers, and put her more in control of her life. I'm thrilled that technologies are now available to people via the NHS, enabling them to live more fulfilling lives. We're all better off as a result, I'm sure.

It was gone eight by the time I got back home, tired and hungry. That's the most I've done in a day for a long while - driving nearly a hundred miles, and walking a total of eight miles. So grateful to have the health and strength to be this active, after a difficult year.

Ibiza Good News

Oh dear, grey skies, rain and blustery winds for Bank Holiday Monday. I forgot what day it was and went down to Tourotech this morning to buy Clare a new laptop, capable of running Zoom conferences without melt-down. The store was shut, as were all the businesses just about on Cowbridge Road East. It looked just like another winter day in lock-down

I was delighted to receive a message from Rosi Todd in Ibiza this morning, announcing the name of their new Chaplain Adrian Green, a Church of Ireland parish priest working currently in East Belfast. He'll start his ministry there in mid-July, after a two year long vacancy, and a year with not even a locum chaplain. Yet, they've held together and continued with lay led services on-line and more recently as lock-down has lifted at Can Truy retreat centre. A credit to the Gospel, and to their patience for sure. 

We had mussels again, with rice and spinach from the garden for lunch. Then I went for a walk, dressed in full rain-gear, defying the heavens to pour on me. It rained as I turned for home, but the wind was more of a challenge, blowing dead twigs out of the trees and covering the ground with pink and white blossom. Then, an hour spent editing my Parish WhatsApp reflections for next week. It was worth the effort, as I now have them all down to just about same length on the page. Next step, record the audio version. After supper, I indulged myself with three episodes of NCIS back to back. Nothing better to do. How dull. 

Transplant for a friend

It's still cold, but all day it's been pleasantly bright and sunny. I've been asked to celebrate at St John's tomorrow, as Mother Frances is on the sick list with a prolapsed disc that has frozen her shoulder. It will be a Requiem for Prince Phillip. I would have attended anyway, but being asked to offer the Mass is less of duty and more of an honour. I first became aware of him being in the public in the Coronation movie shown to use school kids in Ystrad Mynach cinema, weeks after the event. The striking image of him paying homage to his wife, very proper in terms of the consecration ritual of an hereditary head of state, but oddly counter cultural in those days. He gave his entire life to 'having her back' in the public realm, while being her soul mate and husband in private life. A great role model for anyone with eyes to see.

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning, and afterwards collected a couple of pairs of latex gloves, obligatory to use in distributing Communion at present. and as the church hasn't yet resumed regular public services, there may not be a supply of gloves available there. I got caught out with that when I took services there last summer, but was rescued by a member of the congregation who had a spare pair in her car. Getting things perfectly right matters, but the devil as ever is in the detail.

On Monday, Clare's old friend Peter in Hamburg got in touch to say that he was about to undergo a lung transplant. He doesn't know how he came into contact with asbestos fibres, but in recent years the damage to his lungs has shown itself. He's been in hospital since Christmas out of contact with covid, which would have undoubtedly killed him. We were utterly amazed this morning to have a post-op video chat with him. Clare had only just got him on to the parish prayer list! 

The eight hour transplant operation ended at two on Tuesday morning. Instead of days on a knife edge in ICU, the nurses had him out of bed and walking late yesterday. The transplant was it seems. a good match. He said how much he was enjoying breathing fully once more. It was wonderful to see his face and talk with him. Peter reflected on how this was the 60th year since Prof Christian Barnard did the first ever heart transplant in South Africa. The first patient died within hours but, as we say these days, proof of concept allowed the medical team to move from one success to another until now. 

Miracle? Yes. Not the medical science or technology that made it possible, but the union of hearts and minds in medical teamwork that has given new life and hope to so many people over the past sixty years. The work of the Spirit, driving minds and wills to work in most sensitive and challenging circumstances for the good of others. Blessed be God forever! I say.

After cooking lunch, a couple of visits to the shops for groceries this afternoon. It's nice to see other shops opening up again with cheery proprietors smiling and greeting passers by. Clare went into town before lunch, and exchanged the cordless phones I bought yesterday for ones with lower radiation emissions, although we now have two phones instead of three. We got along with just two phones for the past ten years so it doesn't really matter. The new phones will be cleverer, more complex and annoying to program for use no doubt, but that's how it is these days.

A welcome Easter celebration

Another cold bright sunny day for our walk to St Catherine's for the Easter Day Eucharist. I remembered last year, alone in the Chaplaincy House in Ibiza, no congregation to respond to the Easter acclamations, no sharing of Communion, just the trusted words of the liturgy to run through in prayer, having uploaded an audio file of the same, and an Easter video greeting the night before. Such a unique experience, being compelled by circumstances to do without what matters most to me in my life of faith. Nevertheless, it was an experience I'm grateful to have had. For all I know it's one I may have to repeat some time, but if so, the essential truth of the Lord's words to St Paul are there for perpetual reassurance: "My grace is sufficient for thee."

There were fifty of us in church, including ten children. What a blessing! That's as good a congregation as any that we had last year before lock-down resumed, and a testimony to the determination of of our faithful members to make church part of their New Normal. Semana Santa in Malaga in 2018, we were a handful on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, while there were half a million on the streets. In 2014 at Christmas in Taormina, we were eight I think. 

They were strange experiences of ministry, while being aware of UK parishes with no priest to accompany worshippers in Holy Week, but could summon up many more for services if there were any. But priests have no choice about numbers attending, and must not worry about this or the circumstances. You serve wherever you're planted, for the sake of those who'll gather there. That's all there is to it.

With some nervousness and difficulty, I managed to record tomorrow's Morning Prayer but wasn't satisfied with the result. I know I can do better but achieving that takes more time than I have today. It takes time to get used to the very precise routine of producing what's needed, and invariably I forget in between assignments. The last few days have just been too busy to get ready properly.

After lunch, with a glass of an excellent Ribera del Duero to wash it down with, we drove to Lavernock and walked down to the beach. It was low tide and it was just turning, so that off-shore there small waves were breaking without moving forward. An intriguing sight. We took Owain back to the station to catch a train back to Bristol, and then the whole family was re-united in a Zoom call, organised by Kath. The next Zoom call will be on my birthday, a week from now.

Getting ready for Easter

Occasional bursts of rain and cold winds today. I had an appointment for a blood pressure check at the GP surgery at ten. It's much the same as it was when I last went, when I was still taking the doxazosin, so at least I've not made things any worse. I had a good discussion with the practice nurse, who, knowing my condition wasn't unduly concerned about the reading she took. I discovered that she used to work on the Llandough day surgery colorectal surgery team with Mrs Cornish. A reassuring surprise.

As I've been asked to do the Easter Week on-line Morning Prayer and Reflection, I wrote the first in the series of six, starting from an idea I remembered from last night as I was falling asleep. I've also been asked to celebrate the Eucharist at St Catherine's next Wednesday. I enjoy being in the congregation on the receiving end, but no longer feel that as I priest I must, out of devotion if not duty, be celebrating as often as I can. Being able to stand in and support our overworked clergy team means a lot, and gives me a different kind of pleasure and satisfaction. 

I had a preparatory phone conversation with the chief mourner for next Thursday's funeral. I'm standing in for Fr Jesse in Caerau with Ely Parish. As it's Maundy Thursday, he'll be gathering, in the flesh or digitally, for the Chrism Mass with other clergy I imagine. I've had to cover in the past when there have been funerals on this day. 

Clare went into town to bank a cheque and enquire about transferring big sums digitally and she returned reassured by what she learned. I cooked a paella with prawns in it for lunch, and that worked out well. Clare was late returning, but it was just ready finally as she came through the door.

I fell asleep again after lunch and went out late for a walk, late in the sense that Clare had booked me to take her to Rumney for her first post lock-down hairdo with Chris at six. We were surprised at how little traffic there was. It took us half the usual drive time to get there. I returned, got supper ready for her, and spent the evening writing in front of the telly, catching up on this week's 'New Amsterdam' episode. One of the stories was about a prayer group which met in the hospital concourse. Good things were seen to happen when they were around. 

Dr Max Goodwin, the hospital director is of Jewish origins, a very secular scientist. He tolerates the group's presence, unprepared to see any difference their prayer is supposed to make until he himself ends up trying to intercede for a patient with a new life threatening ailment, who then inexplicably recovers. Everyone is relieved and grateful but mystified by what happens. Even the pastor of the prayer group admits he doesn't know how it happens: "But I know one good thing." he says smiling. "Prayer changes us inside!" A-men to that.

Job done

After breakfast and prayer time this morning, I went down to St John's to meet with Fran and Mark to shoot the basic video clips for their icon presentation. We weren't there long when we learned that tree surgeons, delayed from last week, were soon arriving to start work on trimming the trees surrounding the island of green grass on which the church stands in St John's Crescent. Oops! Unforeseen diary clash. 

Churchwarden David arranged for us to collect St Luke's keys from the Rectory, so we left St John's to drive there, dropping off the St John's keys with Eileen the caretaker on our way there. As I got out of the car, I could hear the bell of St Catherine's being tolled by Clive to signify the end of the one minute silence for covid victims, on this lock-down anniversary. Our project had so absorbed us that we didn't notice time passing until then. So, a quick arrow prayer, and then on to St Luke's to continue the job.

Mark was delighted with the resonant acoustics of St Luke's, and we quickly settled on a good setting in the nave to shoot the video, and managed to do it in one complete editable take. The hour in St John's wasn't wasted, as it gave us a chance to run through the structure and ideas about set-up which gave us a head start in a different space. We finished in an hour and I was back for a late lunch of mussels (again!) by one fifteen.

Mark and Fran are good company and I think we worked well together, but I felt strange about being out of the house, doing something different, enjoying socially distanced, masked conversations about the creative process we'd embarked upon, and spending time with people who weren't family members for the first time in six months. I've gotten used to being a hermit of sorts, and for this needed to come right out of myself, and then focus intently on getting the camera to do my bidding. I took three cameras plus spare batteries and SD cards with me, but only used the HX90. I took my Linux laptop along, so I could transfer the video files from the camera to a blank SD card for Fran to take home and give to her son who will be editing the footage under mum's directorial eye, no doubt.

After lunch, I feel asleep for an hour on the sofa, and then went for a walk along the Taff. The river is now very low, as we've had little rain for the past week, and muddy footpaths are no longer treacherously slippery. I met colleagues Peter and Jan walking their dogs in Pontcanna Fields, and learned that ex-Area Dean Mike John is leaving Pentyrch for a part time job as Priest in Charge of Llancarfan. The other part of his job will be managing the diocesan 1Family project, looking after the resettlement of a refugee family from Syria, and all that entails. He did this before as Area Dean, and found that he loved it. How imaginative of the Bishop to innovate in this way. Bravo, both of them!

This evening there was a Zoom Q&A interview with Archbishop Rowan, arranged for the Christian Evidence Society, an august, venerable body public engaged in Christian apologetic discourse for over a century and a half. His theme was Christian spirituality and understanding of God. I didn't see all of it, but what I saw was very good. I had to work on providing documents for Owain for a conveyancing solicitor to authenticate the gift we're making to enable him to make a deposit on an apartment so he can get a mortgage. It's all terribly inquisitive these days on account of money laundering regulations. You have to prove who you are and that you have the right to give your own money away. It's a measure of the climate of distrust which prevails in today's world.  

Undesirable side effects

After a long and refreshing night's sleep, another Spring-like day to enjoy, and it's St Patrick's day too! I went to St Catherine's for this morning's Eucharist. We were the usual eight people plus Mother Frances. We chatted in the churchyard afterwards about how the past year had brought us back to value the scripture reading of the daily Offices, and how it enabled us to do without the frequent eucharistic diet we're used to, yet still feel fed spiritually. 

Francis told me that St John's now hosts a Russian Orthodox congregation on Sunday mornings, after the live streamed Parish Eucharist from there. St Luke's also hosts the Romanian Orthodox congregation that used to meet at St Dyfrig and Samson's. Somehow, covid closure and the long interregnum brought that to an end. Thank heavens Fr Edward Owen's appointment as Priest in Charge of Grangetown has recently been announced.

Mark and Fran phoned after lunch, gearing up to make a video artistic piece for Easter, using Fran's 'Nolli me tangere' icon and talking about it, with Mark playing a meditative piece on the viola. They've taken me up on my offer of videoing it, and the plan is to do this in St John's soon. That's be a nice challenge to do well. 

I cooked our lunch, and then went for a walk in a circuit around the Parish, taking in Thompson's Park and Victoria Park before walking down Cowbridge Road East to collect my prescription from Boots the Chemist. I spoke with the pharmacist about the side effects I've been experiencing from using the higher dosage of doxazosin. It's strange that the more physically well I feel with progress in the wound healing, the worse the side effects become. The last couple of days since speaking to my GP I started to regret having asked to continue with the 4mg dosage and have the extra 2mg dose supply to augment it if my blood pressure shoots up again. He agreed not to issue me with 4mg supply and take it back into stock. If I had taken it, not used it and returned it to the pharmacy, it would have been binned. I've got the 2mg and hope not to feel so groggy and not to have my blood pressure shooting up again.

Clare's morale has been boosted by having her ears cleared of wax and skin flakes which have reduced her hearing capacity significantly this past few months. She had to pay to get it done at a specialist clinic locally, but it's money well spent. We're not having to shout at each other across the noise of kitchen appliances quite as much now!

Rather than watch telly this evening I have been reorganising my recent photo archives to show Victoria Park, Thompson's Park and Bute Park separately from Taffside and Pontcanna photos. They don't all show a location, so it's better for anyone unfamiliar with the places but interested in the parks to have them grouped together.

Alert level good news

A pleasant mild day with sunshine and cloud decorated skies. There are oceans of yellow daffodils, not only in parks but also in roadside grass verges, plus big white crocuses and smaller blue and yellow ones making a cheering sight wherever you walk. The maintenance team working on Blackweir Bridge has now returned the metal decking panels to their proper place. I believe they were taken up to do remedial work on the deck support structure, and maybe also to apply anti-rust paint. I don't suppose it means that the bridge will re-open any time soon, but at least, when it does re-open it'll be fit for purpose again.

I had to laugh this morning when I took a scam phone call from an English RP sounding robot voice claiming to be from HMRC about irregularities in my tax account, threatening me that the police were on their way to arrest me unless I pressed button one to talk to someone about it. That's one up from the Amazon Prime account anomaly robotic calls, we usually get, at least in quality. I'm so glad that for the past fifteen years or so I have filed my annual tax return on-line, so never have to worry about a paper copy going missing and causing confusion. The scammers must know very little really about the people they randomly dial with their messages. Those who get caught out are unlikely to have taken an interest in managing their own financial affairs, and not understanding that banks don't cold call people.

The work on replacing gas pipes in the street has almost reached our door. There are two neat holes in the tarmac waiting to be filled in with all the pipework exposed to view, and then it'll be our turn. You can see how new yellow plastic gas main piping has been threaded along the old iron pipework. Holes are cut in the old pipework allowing joints to be made for smaller bore piping to be run to individual homes, all very clever. Each house in turn has its supply cut off for a few hours while the job is done and the team leader lets you know when it's your turn.  

I've been invited to contribute a set of reflections for the Parish WhatsApp prayer channel next week. How nice to be starting with St David's day, and have Fran's Dewi Sant icon to talk about! I've now got to decide what to do with the other five weekday sessions. As we're resuming church services on Sunday, I think the rest of the week's reflections may well turn out to be about the Eucharist.

Today's good news is that the coronavirus alert level has been lowered from the most critical level five to level four. At level five, hospitals were at high risk of being overwhelmed by covid patients. Infection and death rates are falling steadily, but relaxation of restrictions needs to take much longer to avoid reversing the decline. About a third of the population has now been inoculated once, thanks to the coordinated teamwork efforts of medics, logistics and volunteer teams.

Church to re-open

Another mild cloudy day to help the ground dry out a bit more. More reports coming in about the high degree of efficacy of various vaccines now in use, plus the first delivery of vaccines to Ghana as part of the WHO's global collaboration by countries which are producing vaccines to share them with countries which are not. More media discussion about the stages in which lock-down will end in the four nations of Britain - all are mostly similar, but vary in detail given circumstances in different health authorities. Not everyone is happy with the plans set out, as so many businesses are struggling not to collapse.

Before lunch, I collected this week's organic veggies from Conway Road, and afterwards walked into town to look around and take photos of the Central Square construction site. The city centre shops are all shuttered, some shops have been emptied out and the trading signage over the window removed. It's hard to imagine how the city's reputation as South Wales' go-to retail destination can be regained post-covid. For so many shop workers there will be no return, only redundancy.

Finally a date has been set for the funeral I was asked to do three weeks ago which had to be postponed as the Coroner's work had not yet been done. It'll now take place a week tomorrow. Good news this afternoon in the form of an email from Mthr Emma to say that Parish Eucharist will resume in church next Sunday. I'm so relieved the church's reason to exist as a people for God's praise has been restored in our community. A review of the closure decision was taken as promised after five Sundays. 

So many, if not most of the older demographic of church members are far less at risk after vaccination. Younger members are geared to take precautions and act with consideration for others in church, so the risk is less than it was. Some parishes chose not to shut down Sunday worship. I believe closing is the rule in some dioceses. Such decisions weigh heavily on those who make them in a situation where there is scant detailed local knowledge and statistics to inform decisions. 

Averagely at the moment, Cardiff infection rate is higher than the Welsh (and UK) average. One outer suburb has double the infection rate of anywhere else. Areas where there's a large proportion of students in the population have a lower than average infection rate. Now infection numbers generally are lower a small localised outbreak skews the statistics. I suppose we'll never know if any Anglican parish congregation was an infection hot spot. If we have lost members to covid, they'll pretty certainly be older, sicker and in a care home. However the local situation is adjudged, we must all be grateful that we have survived thus far, and never presume that we're safe from the next nasty surprise nature has for us.

Beware the air we breathe

Back to thick grey clouds and intermittent rain today, with more to come in the next few days, and threats of flooding. At least I didn't get too wet, walking before and after lunch. I cooked rice and Brussels sprouts with boil-in-the-bag mussels again, tastes to cheer us on another miserable day.

Official covid infection statistics released today show continued downward progression. In three weeks time phased re-introduction of children to classes in school will begin. Groups of four people from just two households will be able to meet again outdoors from this weekend - but judging from what I observe on my daily walks in the parks, this has been taking place already for weeks, few are even an arm's length away from others, let alone properly socially distanced. There's no sign of enforcement taking place, except in car parks. 

It's good to hear more being said about the risk from airborne infection. The existence of more contagious new variants calls for this to be emphasised, outdoors as well as indoors. I find it strange that early research nearly a year ago revealed the likely role of airborne transmission, yet only in the past three months when the contagion risk had been observed to be much higher has it been given increased prominence in public health advisory videos. 

Drivers of taxis, buses, and above all, ambulance drivers have suffered disproportionately high infection rates due to the amount of time they spend in enclosed spaces transporting, then waiting with patients, and treating them. Their standard of personal protection equipment needs to be much higher than in reality it is. I'm not sure we're hearing much from either unions or the government on what's being done to reduce the risks to health and safety in a crisis. Who cares for the carers here?

The Parish weekly notices are now being delivered by means of Microsoft's Sway, one of the apps that is part of Microsoft Office. The diocese also uses Sway to circulate its weekly info round-robin. An Office user can bring together text, images, web-links, audio and video into a presentation hosted on One Drive and accessible via a URL It can even be used to create a website. In effect, each week's round-robin is a little website of its own. Sway has been around for seven years but like video conferencing apps has seen new uses and users during the pandemic. It's rather passed me by, as I'm no longer delivering 'content' to anyone. I wonder if it will supplant the Christmas newsletter pdf in years to come?

This afternoon I watched this week's episode of 'New Amsterdam' on catch-up, and later in the evening the last episode of 'Rebecka Martinson - Arctic Murders'. Not for the first time in this series, a presumed murder turns out to be an accidental death whose circumstances cause others to lie about it. Tragedy in life can have many layers to it.

Church on hold again?

There were twenty of us for the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. The new covid variant scare is having hitting people's confidence. It seems tonight's PCC is set to discuss whether or not to continue to offer public worship, as some attendees are slower to disperse from the churchyard than is considered to be desirable. 

Clergy are being enjoined not to stand outside to greet people from a suitable distance as they leave, as this leads to people hanging around outdoors. Outside the church gates on the street, in the shops, the risks will be high because the public realm isn't as well controlled. It doesn't take much to ask people not to take off their masks while they are within the gates. They'll understand why. Outside, it's up to each person to assess risk for themselves.

It troubles me that if clergy can't see and hail worshippers from afar and ask how they are, offer a word of support and encouragement, what will it do to pastoral relationships? On-line isn't enough, a face on a screen doesn't allow a pastor to notice the true colour of someone's complexion, their tone of voice, their movement when they walk, all of which inform the relationship the shepherd has with the flock. I found it in Ibiza - seeing only half a dozen people over a three month period, face to face, very occasionally. It was impossible to establish meaningful pastoral relationships with people I was there to serve. That was the worst thing, not being able to assess from personal contact what was really happening to people. Social media can't be trusted when it comes to baring one's soul. 

And all this happens on a day when the key Gospel phrase is 'Come and see ...' 

It comes in a week when a contagion expert said on the news that the risk is far less outdoors, with or without a mask, although research into this is still on-going and not yet peer reviewed and published. The most serious risk is in uncontrolled indoor settings, like supermarkets, on which new health and safety requirements have been imposed of necessity this weekend. If data on supermarket based contagion is available, why not data on contagion in compliant churches? Without proper information, judgements are likely to be made on the basis of anxious hearsay - as if we needed that!

In church, we pray in a highly controlled environment, sitting in well spaced out pews, wearing obligatory masks. Those who attend behave considerately of others, and don;t hang about indoors longer than they need to. We're told there's a hugely increased risk, but without a shred of data to show how many Anglican congregations worshipping together compliantly are known to have been involved in transmitting infection. Sure, a few churches have blatantly ignored the risk from the outset, carried on as normal and become 'superspreaders', but does that mean the rest of us can't be trusted to behave compliantly?  Caution, self-discipline, good information are always essential in Christian conduct, even more so in such dangerous days. Timidity is understandable and inevitable, recklessness is folly, but giving in to the tide of fear - how does that witness to the Gospel?

On my walk in the park after lunch, the Taff water level was down again and the resident Merganser was back on the rock slabs where family can be seen. On the same outcrop stood a cormorant as I was passing and I got a nice photo of the two of them in each other's space. The merganser moved ,then fluffed up its feathers as it turned its back on the cormorant. The cormorant then plopped into the water and took off.

Afterwards, I decided to have a go at reclaiming space in my Gmail accounts now 85% full. If storage fills up completely I'll be required to rent extra space, but why bother if most of the data stored is redundant or irrelevant? Last year I deleted emails from 2007 when I registered the accounts, up to 2010 when I retired. Since then, a great number of emails were CBS correspondence, not necessary to keep as they are copied on the CBS Gmail account. 

Over the past ten years, the size of photo attachments has risen tenfold, as many senders don't bother to downsize them before sending. Also thousands of notifications that should have been deleted weren't. Google's fast search options mask the accumulation of redundant files and big attachments. After an hour's work, I got rid of ten gigabytes of data on one account and seven on another. One thing which I discovered on other file storage systems too. The deleted content of the account trash can must also be deleted before file space is reclaimed. Sneaky that one! A worthwhile effort, I think.

I had an email after lunch from Emma in the Euro-diocesan office about the new requirement for holders of PTO doing locum duty that they now need to do a further on-line Safeguarding training, before their PTO is renewed. The five year renewal cycle has been reduced to three years, the accent on training is welcome in a fast changing environment, especially regarding the rise of on-line forms of abuse. Emma works from home in deepest rural Essex where, like here they've had phenomenal amounts of rain. There was a tiny video clip of the little stream at the bottom of her garden, swollen and spilling over its banks. It's the same in many parts of Britain.

Much to my surprise, I had an email from Bishop June while I was out walking, noting with appreciation my small effort to support the Parish ministry team these past few months. How could I do anything else as an elderly churchgoer who happens to be ordained and still fit enough to function from time to time. In present circumstances ministry is extra difficult and demanding of new skills, stamina and patience. It's a relief to me that I no longer have responsibility for holding everything together and giving a lead. Acting on orders, as long as I can do that well and correctly is all I can hope to do nowadays. It's not a bad thing at all. President to be Joe Biden is my age. I'm glad not to be in his shoes! 

ON telly tonight, we watched the first of a six part drama about a woman whose property developer husband dies mysteriously at 48 while he's showing them around the high tech new home he's just had built for them to move into. It's a sort of black comedy, that may turn into a comedy crimmie, I suppose. In my Geneva days I was summoned urgently to offer pastoral support to the traumatized wife and daughter of a member of the congregation who was a banker. He dropped dead in the middle of a working day, and I was asked to accompany them to the chapel of rest where his body had just been laid out. He was still in his work suit, looking smart, eerie and unreal. 'That's not my Daddy!' exclaimed his 13 year old daughter, and they both wept. 

Watching this brought it all back to me, whether it was really true to life or not. That made it uncomfortable to watch, not entertaining at all. I am interested in how it plays out, however, given the problems which arise when someone dies intestate or mired in debt or cash-flow issues, especially as bank accounts are automatically frozen when someone dies. It's understandable that some elderly people are still in the habit of keeping a stash of cash under the bed, reluctant to entrust all their wordly goods to the self serving paranoia of a modern banking system.

More covid worry and frustration

Waking up again to more bad news of covid infections continuing to rise out of control, and calls for a stricter lock-down. We were twenty adults and three children for the St Catherine's Eucharist, but for how much longer, amidst calls for even tighter restrictions, heaven only knows. Our church warden fell at home broke her leg and needed a few days in hospital after surgery. Then someone on her ward was tested positively for covid, so now she's stuck there in quarantine for ten days, and we're hoping and praying that the rest of the ward doesn't get infected.

When I walked in the park after lunch, I noticed that Coffee #1 and Cafe Castan were open for takeaways. Outside Cafe Castan, despite distancing measures, and a line of people queuing properly to be served, small groups of people stood un-distanced, un-masked, chatting nearby. And no sign of law enforcement. 

The BBC seems to be interviewing an 'disproportionate' number of elderly people expressing the opinion that the country should go back to a much stricter lock-down asap. Maybe they can't get anyone who doesn't care a toss about others to stand in front of a camera and be counted, unless they are in some kind of anarchic demonstration in defence of their civil liberty right to be careless and selfish. 

Calls for Trump to be removed from office before his term finishes continue to grow in the USA, as public outrage against him and congressional supporters continues to grow. He's been banned from both Twitter and Facebook, and the alternative far right free speech extremist social network is being removed from app stores and deprived of its web server space, as the big companies are recognising how damaging the persistence of their paranoid hateful messaging has turned out to be. The control of both national and international security rests ultimately with a President who increasingly behaves like a mad dictator, to the point of talking about a counter demonstration on the day of Joe Biden's inauguration.                                 

After my walk and before supper, I caught up the third and fourth episodes of 'Spiral / Engrenages', it is turning into a tragically powerful story of undocumented child migrants from North Africa in Paris, and how they subsist by mugging people and stealing phones or wallets. A phone shop dealer not only acts as a 'fence' for stolen phones, but is trusted to perform a social service for them, by electronically transferring ill-gotten euros to family accounts back home. 

One child gets murdered having stolen a batch of cocaine from a dealer who has collected it from drug 'mules' bringing it into the country in their digestive systems. It was shocking to hear an airport customs officer stating that they could only catch a fraction of travellers transporting drugs daily in the way. An dramatic exaggeration or not? Maybe recreational cocaine users will watch this series for entertainment, and realise how their demand makes them complicit in such an evil form of exploitation of poor people.

It was Anto's birthday today, and various family members Whatsapped him their greetings and talked on line. No family get-together in this year of covid for any of us.

After supper I worked on this week's batch of recordings of morning prayer, this time in the attic bedroom. At the moment the parish intercession list for the sick and departed needs regular updating. Unfortunately this can happen after I've made a recording, and then it needs doing again, since it's impossible to edit the video and get it to render correctly on Whatapp, the chosen platform for prayer group use. With a four year old phone, uploading the video file is problematic as the phone doesn't have enough memory and the process stalls. I've had to strip all but essential apps from it to free space. Recording ahead is necessary in case I hit unforeseen problems. Doing it on the day carries too much of a risk of failure. Doing it the day before risks not having an up to date intercession list. I wish there was a better way of doing this that'd justify scores of users making the change, but there isn't. It's been hard enough to develop the circle of users to may who have never used Whatsapp before. If only I could figure out what stops edited videos from rendering correctly on a smartphone ...

Uproar on Three Kings Day

There were twelve of us at St Catherine's this morning for the Eucharist of Epiphany day. So glad we were able to keep the feast in church. I understand some parishes have returned to on-line only services in the light of heightened risk, but we haven't been ordered to close churches so far. We just have to be extra careful about everything we can do when we're out of the house. 

Journalists are getting fidgety, asking questions about the pace of delivering doses of the new Oxford /AZ covid vaccine, so we are hearing more about the procedure of manufacture, batch production of the vaccine in individual vials, and quality testing rather than the logistics of delivery. 

It's hard to understand what editors and reporters are up to. All this information has been publicly available for weeks, and since last week, concern about global shortages of manufactured vials - billions extra are needed urgently. It was in the best interests of the public to have an explanation of the total procedure entailed in manufacture and distribution of the vaccine very early on, not just the distribution. It takes longer to ramp up production than it does distribution. The mechanisms for the latter are well known and efficient, and with military aid, capable of rapid expansion. 

It would have been better for people to know more about the pace of production, to forestall anxiety about delays which aren't delays, except in the minds of magical thinking people. The oft maligned pharma industry is working with scientific care and precision at an astonishing pace for the common good, in a way which would have been unthinkable forty years ago, thanks to technological innovation. In the end, the pace is set by natural growth processes which are at the heart of making any vaccine.

I received an amazing short video from my sister June this morning of virtual flash mob of a choir, soloists and a baroque orchestra singing the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah. It's set in the fourteenth century Basilica of Nuestra Senora del Mar in Barcelona. Individual singers, then orchestra members pop up as projections inside the nave, and as numbers grow the images develop into a tiled mosaic of video images of singers decorating the walls, vaults and pillars. It's a kind of video art installation which really exploits what can be done to widely available editing tools today - just like the carols Clare was involved in singing with the Carnival Band, just before Christmas. A great way to lift the spirits and a challenging piece of work to keep creative minds active.

In the United States, the formal congressional confirmation of Joe Biden's election as president has been violently disrupted by an invasion of the building and even the debating chamber by hundreds of Trump supporters aiming to stop and overturn the process. All this incited by Donald Trump, whose illusions and lies peddled to the masses led to a huge rally of supporters in Washington during the confirmation session. Nothing like this has ever happened in America before. Charismatic dictators all over the world must be rubbing their hands with glee. 

Surely now the Republican party must turn against him and say with one voice 'Enough is enough' and kick him out regardless of the consequences? Or are too many of them in his thrall if not indebted to him for the privilege and status. The way this has played out over the past four years makes me think of the story-line of a Marvel comic book or movie, with a super-villain, oppressing the world but without an obvious superhero to combat and defeat him. Joe Biden will steer America back to sanity with quiet unspectacular reconciling guidance, and be the voice of all people who want to reclaim their country from the clutches of dictatorial populist fanatics. Let's hope that Britain, muddling along behind as ever, will find inspiration and follow this wholesome example.

I watched the fifth episode of the German crimmie I prefer to call Baltic Murders on More Four catchup. I'm not sure if it's the last episode or not. It may not been broadcasted yet as the remaining perpetrator still evades justice, so it's a matter of wait and see. Like with Biden's confirmation, still in process with a likley all night sitting to get it done, now that law and order is restored after such a disgraceful lapse.

Parish Patronal festival

I went to St Catherine's on my own to celebrate the Sunday Eucharist this morning in honour of St John the Evangelist our original Parish Patron Saint. The civil Parish of Canton was carved out of the ancient Parish of Llandaff in 1858 and its first church was dedicated to St John the Evangelist. Several missions  were started within its boundary, two of them developed into full Parishes with their own churches, St Catherine and St Luke, over the next thirty years. In the 1990s all three were reunited in the Rectorial Benefice of Canton. Services on the Sunday after Christmas are often poorly attended and fear of covid contagion keeps vulnerable people away. Even so, there were seventeen of us worshipping today. 

Owain and Clare had to stay home to take delivery of the new fridge at a time which coincided with the service. By the time I returned the the old fridge and the packaging of the new had been taken away and the new one was settling in. Clare had been worried that it wouldn't fit in the kitchen unit, being slightly taller than the original, but it fitted perfectly. By tea time it was at its operating temperature, and Clare had retrieved the freezer content from hospitable neighbours.

After lunch, a walk in the park. It was cold and cloudy with sunshine and occasional showers. The park was crowded, in contrast to yesterday, when foul weather kept most people indoors. As we were having tea on our return, we realised that the afternoon TV movie was 'The Sound of Music', which we sat and watched together, singing along with familiar songs. It's several decades since we last saw the movie or the stage version. Owain didn't realise there was a real life wartime refugee family story underlying it. After supper we watched another feel-good movie the Christmas edition of 'Call the Midwife'. Back to normal routine when Owain returns to Bristol tomorrow. We shall miss him.

Unique Christmas, hopefully

I woke up at seven, as usual, lacking sleep as I didn't settle down until half past one. That's been pretty normal for Christmas Eve over decades of late night duty, but unintentional. Somehow time seems to be on hold in a strange way during this winter fiesta. I stayed in bed until the day dawned properly with sun and blue sky, and a few beautifully tinted clouds, listening to a Radio Four programme in which several of the actors who feature regularly in The Archers soap opera spoke of their roles in the never ending story of life in the fictional Midland village of Ambridge. 

The programme was in celebration of the seventieth anniversary of the world's longest running serial. In addition, each read a favourite piece of prose or poem with selected music. A unique occasion, to which Auntie Beeb did full justice. Over recent years, a change of editors has resulted in a succession of cutting edge story lines about social concerns above and beyond those impacting on the agricultural industry - coercive relationships, child abuse, environmental pollution, and 'modern' slavery among them - none of them implausible. I've listened on and off over the past sixty years, more so as I've headed into old age and had fewer distractions. Now iPlayer makes it easy to catch up if we do miss an episode. I don;t think I missed one when I was in Ibiza.

At ten, the three of us strolled to St Catherine's for the Eucharist of Christmas Day. There were twenty one of us. We heard there were only nine people for Midnight Mass last night, and four of them were choir, the only occasion on which a handful of masked singer were allowed to perform. With there being so many public services cancelled around Britain as a result of the contagion surge and the general ban on carolling I guess casual as well as regular church attenders would have been deterred from attending. I decided not to go, on the assumption that it was better to make space for others - if only I'd known! I admit I enjoyed hearing the Pope's Mass from St Peters - classic Roman Rite in Italian with sung liturgical Ordinary. I was in my element! 

We went straight home from church to prepare our feast of a meal, the turkey was already cooking while we were out. A real Christmas treat! The four kilo bird roasted perfectly. It was full flavoured and succulent. On BBC iPlayer, I found and then played through the hi-fi yesterday afternoon's Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College Cambridge as we drank Veuve Cliquot champagne given to me when I celebrated my golden jubilee of priesthood back in September. We had just a main course of turkey and roast veg, followed by Christmas pudding, washed down with a bottle of Blauburgunder, aka German Pinot Noir. It was a little less elaborate than how it would be if all the family had gathered, and there were different tastes to be catered for, but all three of us were happy. We lacked nothing apart from the delight of a full family gathering. 

Just after three we listened to the Queen's Christmas message on iPlayer. It was wonderfully affirmative and inclusive, celebrating the spirit of voluntarism and the great diversity of faiths cultures and talents among people of Britain and the Commonwealth, and yet she made it clear that her unifying visions of her citizens was a product of her steadfast Christian faith. She's the lay person who is head of the Church of England, but talked about people of faith, not about the institutional church. A great example to all lay-people. 

The sun shone all day in a mostly blue sky, at a crisp cold three degrees centigrade, just right for a walk after we'd eaten. After opening presents, we went to Thompson's Park, then on to Victoria Park to deliver some fudge to the Rectory. We exited the park through a side street entrance to get back to Romilly Road. I was surprised to be hailed by name by a voice I didn't immediately recognise as we walked down the hill. It was Tony Bishop, who was the City Centre Police inspector when we were starting Cardiff Business Safe. Now he works in the management team of Cardiff Bus, having first retrained as a bus driver after retirement. It seems his daughter recently bought a house in that street. He and his wife enjoyed their first Christmas lunch away from home in thirty years of marriage, he told us with relish. It was such a surprise, given that the streets were otherwise so quiet and empty.

After seeing another spectacular sunset, we relaxed in front of the telly and watched a Christmas edition of 'Call the Midwife', a Clare favourite, with a few snacks rather than an evening meal. Then a quick late night turnaround the block for some cold fresh air to clear the head before turning in. It's been strange, not singing carols in worship, nor even socially this year. We attend public worship as often as we can, but it's such a detached unreal experience, but hopefully unique, if the vaccine roll-out in the coming year has its desired effect. It'll be Easter at least, before we know. 

 

A day to remember in the history of science

Following Thought for the Day I uploaded day two's Morning Prayer video with a little more confidence than yesterday. Then I walked into town again after breakfast by way of the Madhav Indian grocery shop on Lower Cathedral Road, as we needed to top up on several spices. The store sells packets at half the cost and twice with weight of the ones sold in little glass bottles from supermarkets. Just right if you use spices liberally, as we do. It caters mainly for Asian, African and Caribbean customers, not only with spices and condiments but also select vegetables from far off places. Next to the shop is a small simple restaurant area where cooked vegetarian Indian foods can be bought to take home or eat in. I always enjoy going in there, as its proprietor is friendly. One of these lunchtimes I'll try the eaterie.

Under the Wood Street river bridge, I noticed a strange object sticking out of the water. Closer inspection revealed that its was a large stuffed toy Snoopy tied to a branch broken off a try. Strange, I can't imagine how it got there, but it made a good Instagram picture. I popped into John Lewis' to see if there were any tech' bargains, but nothing obvious remained on Black Friday deals. Not that I have anything particular in mind that I need to buy at the moment. My tech needs are very limited these days. Thankfully I don't have to edit videos that often, as I make very few, so I couldn't justify buying a more powerful computer just do do that - unless it was heavily discounted, of course! 

On leaving the city centre I took more photos of building construction progress. The Edwardian Crown Post Office building on Westgate Street is being converted into a hotel, and a huge steel skeleton has sprung up at the rear of the building, for additional suites of rooms, I imagine. The grand main hall with counters will I suspect be renovated and adapted for the hotel reception area in due time. It'll uplift the environment at the lower end of the street, which has looked sad and neglected for the past quarter of a century if not longer.

I stopped at Tesco's to get some wine and a bunch of flowers, and had to queue longer than expected at the checkout, as the store was quite busy. I got home just as Clare was putting lunch on the table and wondering where I was. Although I didn't feel physically tired, I slept for an hour and a half after lunch. I seem to need a regular eight hours sleep time a day. I usually wake just after seven whatever time I got to bed, and lately it's been well after midnight, so an afternoon siesta plugs the gap. I wonder if this amount of rest is as necessary for the mind as for the body, and maybe more so as we get older. I went out for another walk later to complete my full two hours of fresh air and exercise. Along with excellent food this seems vital to sustain the steady improvement of the wound condition. It's also an antidote to dark evening hours inert in front of the telly. That's something that's been easier to do of late as I can now sit for longer without pain and discomfort. It's truly incredible, having been for so long unable to do so.

Over the weekend UK health regulators have been fast-tracking approval of the Pfizer/BioNtech covid-19 vaccine for use and distribution in Britain, so that roll-out can begin some time next week. Four hundred thousand double doses for essential health workers to start with. This is a colossal achievement for the global scientific community, to get this far in ten months from decoding the virus genome, unprecedented in the history of science. And on the same day a Chinese robotic space craft lands on the moon to collect and return kilos of moon rock samples to earth! 

Only yesterday Google's Deep Mind artificial intelligence research programme announced a breakthrough in predicting the shape of different kinds of proteins, long chain amino acid molecules which, depending on composition and size fold up into different shapes that determine their behavioural properties and functions inside cells. Determining shape by any other means is extremely difficult, and the question of how to do this on a basis of what the molecule is made up of, has been around unanswered for the past fifty years. This new tool has amazing potential in analysing  and synthesising proteins, and in developing new medicines. 

At a time when the pandemic has put normal life on hold, paradigm shifting scientific breakthrough has taken place that will make a profound difference to the future and challenge temptation to despair. The Creator Spirit works among us while we're busy worrying.