Ty am Ddim

Rain overnight, then a humid day with occasional showers, a refreshing change. I celebrated the Eucharist with seven others at St Catherine's this morning, then walked over to Chapter Arts Centre to collect this week's veggie bag. Early lunch, then picked up and taken to Thornhill to take a funeral. The deceased had been a keen golfer so the Briwnant Chapel was filled with former colleagues and golf club members as well as next of kin. It was possible to proceed at a leisurely pace with time at the end to sit through Elgar's Enigma variation the recessional music specially chosen.

When I got back from Thornhill, I did the main weekly grocery shopping at the Coop, then had a long chat with Martin, still rejoicing in his marvellous birthday party Sunday evening last. After supper I went for a walk in the park, appreciating the cool fresh air following an afternoon rain shower. Clare was watching a programme on S4C called 'Ty Am Dim' (Free House), about the renovation of a cottage in a rural village in Ceredigion, acquired at low cost because of its poor condition. The house was much more expensive to restore than anticipated, so the profit made when it was sold was reduced. It must have been satisfying to achieve the building transformation, but was it worthwhile for the workers at the heart of the story?

My understanding of spoken Welsh is pretty threadbare, I'm ashamed to say, but I was able to follow it, as much of the technical vocabulary to do with house building was in English. The Welsh spoken in West Wales is clear, making it fairly easy to follow the dialogue and maintain interest in the story told. It makes me think that I should put more effort into acquiring Welsh language. Despite several efforts at learning over the years, I've never succeeded in being able to do more than hear and partly understand and pronounce words correctly. Social conversation is still embarrassingly out of my reach.

Summer Equinox sushi

A gloriously sunny Summer Equinox day with dry heat just like in Spain. Thunderstorm warnings issued again but Cardiff hasn't had any so far. Clare took Jasmine to visit Cardiff Castle this morning. Waiting after breakfast for my ride to Thornhill for this morning's funeral, I finished and uploaded next week's prayer video just in time to be picked up. There were only six mourners, a small family circle stunned by unexpected loss. When I was standing with them outside afterwards, I noticed my friend Rufus, robed and standing outside the Wenallt chapel with a large group of mourners at the end of a service. After taking my leave of the family I went and chatted with him for a short while before returning home. 

Back to downloading Google Takeout files before lunch, this time on my laptop. Downloading is notably quicker. The laptop's wi-fi ethernet card is newer and runs at a higher speed than our wired Powerline network, which must be ten years old by now. I didn't think it would make such a difference, but it does, so I've switched devices, and getting the job done in half the time.

After lunch I took Jas to visit Llandaff Cathedral and told her some stories about the building, and my life long association with it. She's grown up in a secular environment, so I'm not sure how much anything I told her made sense to her. She'll have a different sense of history as a teenager living in a country where few built structures are over two hundred years old apart from Native American edifices and sacred sites which aren't on the same scale. I feel sad that secularity has penetrated my family to the extent it has, and that they don't value our shared faith inheritance. Even if they respect it, they distance themselves from it and disregard it as irrelevant or antique.

After the Cathedral, we walked up to Llandaff weir, hunted for foraging honey bees to take pictures of, then returned via the main entrance to Pontcanna Fields, where Jas was delighted to find raspberries and strawberries growing wild in the hedgerow next to the allotments. She made sushi for supper which tasted good, though to my mind it feels like eating a meal composed of finger buffet food, so even when you're full, you wonder what you're getting for the main course. But as she said, it's great for picnics. She and her mum go paddle boarding on Tempe Lake at home and eat sushi on the water, out on their boards! 

As the sun began to set we went out together to Thompson's Park to check on the Moorhen nest, but the gates were already locked sadly, an hour before the latest sunset of the year. We did a circuit of streets around the park, while the sky turned pink and grey in between the houses. It's such a different domestic environment to suburban Tempe for her, and she enjoys just being able to walk everywhere, in contrast to a city so spread out you have to go everywhere by car. It's lovely to have this time walking together, not saying much, noting the interesting differences in environment. Jas is still looking forward to some proper rain to use her umbrella. So far, only light drizzle, and despite the promise of thunderstorms, so far, nothing.

Found in contempt

Another bright sunny start to the day with the temperature rising into the twenties early in the day. For the first time this year, it was hot enough to leave the house without wearing a jacket. First I went to Tesco's and bought supplies for our food-bank donation then attended the Eucharist at St John's. There were seven of us present. My ride to Thornhill crem for the funeral at midday collected me from outside the church. 

By the time I arrived home for a Clare cooked curry lunch, news reports were arriving about the findings of the Parliamentary Privileges committee about activities in the Prime Minister's office during the covid lock-down. It couldn't have been more scathing, and critical of Boris Johnston, more so as a result of the written remarks in his resignation letter, deemed to be contempt of Parliament. The severest of sanctions were recommended against him. What's amazing is how many parliamentarians and well as interviewees feel he's been unfairly treated, still under the illusion that the leader of the government should be allowed to act above and beyond the law. It says a lot about the decay of shared common values in modern Britain. A vote to accept the findings of the report may take place tomorrow, though it's not yet certain in the tense political climate of the Commons at the moment. 

After lunch I walked to Llandaff village to make a bereavement visit for a funeral the week after next. The widow now lives in a retirement home, having moved a few months ago from Creigau, where she'd been a member of St David's Groesfaen congregation. The more we spoke the more her face seemed familiar. On a few occasions, I covered services there not long after I retired. As a busy steward and welcomer she wouldn't have remembered me, but I remembered her. That's the gift of a good visual memory, I guess.

When I got home, I spent the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening preparing and recording next week's Morning Prayer video to have as much time as possible free for Jasmine's stay with us. The Cardiff Singer of the World song recital competition wasn't on live at the earlier time tonight, but scheduled as a recording between ten and midnight. Too late for me. I started getting ready for bed as soon as the evening news finished after a tiring day, exacerbated by the wax build up in my right year. It always gets worse in the heat of summer, and these days you have to to pay to get treatment. Our GP surgery doesn't offer the service, the way it used to.

Life with marvellous music added

I don't know what happened to the thunderstorms and sudden downpours predicted for yesterday, but they passed Cardiff by. Today is nearly as hot as the Costa del Sol, blue skies and sunny. Clare went out before me to an eye hospital appointment. After responding to a few messages, and doing some work on Rufus' business web presentation text, I drove to my dental appointment in Llandaff North, as I didn't fancy walking up the Taff Trail in the heat. Just as well too. The anaesthetic I was given before the filling was done left me feeling slightly odd and wobbly for an hour or so afterwards as the numbness wore off. Have I become more sensitive to a local anaesthetic since the last time, a couple of years ago?

I called into Lidl's near the surgery for a few items of shopping before heading for home and cooking lunch. Clare had an extra long wait for her consultation and returned just as I finished cooking everything except the veggie sausages. We ate our plates of veggies together, while her sausages cooked, and then ate our sausages separately as a second course. During lunch we listened excerpts from the first Cardiff Singer of the World song contest recital from the RWCMD. What a treat!

Then I had a bereavement visit to make out Fairwater, and caught the 61 bus which took me within ten minutes walk of my destination. Unfortunately Google Maps misdirected me to a different address from the one I sought directions for, navigating me to a street elsewhere where a random touch on the screen had 'dropped a pin' on the map (as Google calls it), which the AI bot interpreted unquestioningly as a change of destination. This added an extra five minutes to my walk, and much more annoyance and confusion. It's not as smart as it thinks it is.

Anyway, I ended up at the correct address, where I met the brother of the deceased who'd helped to care for her over most of their lifetimes, as she was disabled and vulnerable. Another lovely story of family making it possible for a person to live a supported life in the local community, and receiving boundless love and appreciation in return.

I returned on the 61 just as Plasmawr school students were leaving and congregating at the bus stop. The ride back to Pontcanna was very crowded indeed. Then back to work on Rufus' project, before and after supper.

Clare got back from her meditation group just in time for tonight's round of Cardiff Singer of the World. All the singers were impressive, yet again, but the clear winner was another South African soprano, and we thought the same as the jury, for the third time in a row. Wonderful music!

Facing a future unprovided for

I was rather slow getting started this morning, as I needed to made a bereavement call and arrange a visit, but made it to St John's for the Eucharist just in time. The visit will be tomorrow morning in Llandough. 

When I got back from church, I decided it was time to pay my contribution to Parish funds, and went on line to our bank account. I was rather annoyed to find that I can't find a way to produce a record of all my previous payments, to figure out how much I should be paying, and had to hunt through the paper version to find the previous entry, among hundreds of transactions great and small. 

The bank keeps nagging me about going paperless. If only clever people on big IT salaries realised it's easier to scan a sheet of paper in hand than scrolling a screen when identifying a single item with no search facility in this section of their website, and do something about it, maybe I could be persuaded to comply.

It took me a while to check my figures and work out how much I should pay. I tend to do this only two or three times a year, rather than use a simple standing order. This allows me to adjust the amount we give to take into account rising running, and the need to contribute for special purposes. So far, I'm in a position to give more as I earn extra from locum duties. I'm happy that's how it is for the time being.

We had a tofu stir fry with rice for lunch, one of Clare's specialities which I helped her prepare. She went to the CRI for an x-ray after lunch. I followed her into town, to bank a cheque, and we met in John Lewis' for a drink before returning together on the 61 bus. I was going to buy a discounted Lumix GX80 camera, but when I enquired about it, found that the packaging and accessories were no available, so the displayed item could not be sold to me. 

The same thing happened with another discounted Lumix camera several months ago. Why on earth display the camera when no stocks are left, no more are expected to arrive in-store and the display camera is deemed unsaleable? Something's wrong here. It's bad enough that the sales person knows nothing about cameras and tries to sell you one that's totally different from the one you've stated that you want. No wonder 'The Partnership' doesn't do as well as it used to when service standards are lowered.

After supper I made a few phone calls to contact bereaved families. Mother Frances asked me to cover yet another funeral this afternoon so I'm preparing one a week in the next three weeks. That's eight altogether since returning from Spain. A consequence of full time clergy shortage. My friend Rufus is far sighted in retiring early from his part time job to develop a specialist pastoral ministry to bereaved families outside the church in areas barely covered by understaffed Parish clergy with many other duties to cover. If only it were possible to establish a guild of ministers, lay and retired clergy which trained to the same standards, and were willing to be deployed over a wide area, to wherever there was a need, and funeral directors find local clergy are not available. It would be necessary to have a protocol so that working clergy and guild members treat each other as partners and share information so neither rivalry nor resentment can arise.

It's a problem that established churches often see themselves as proprietors of the realm of pastoral care, and fail to acknowledge the depths of the gulf between themselves and grass roots secular community. In his early days as Pontiff I recall Pope Francis expressing fraternal warmth towards religious leaders of the Anglican, Protestant and Pentecostal communities in Latin America, valuing their missionary enterprise and seeing them as 'Partners in the Gospel'.  Many would agree with him, but there are still some people in leadership, quietly dissenting and disregarding changes that have taken place in the past half century. 

News of the return of the Pacific 'el nino' ocean current phenomenon threatens to exacerbate the impact of global warming in the next couple of years. The rate at which polar ice caps are melting increases faster than predicted, suggesting we are now past the feared tipping point after which damage to environment and species loss is irretrievable. Yet another case of people in power dissenting and disregarding well documented changes and insisting on interpreting them differently (for their own economic benefit). The ancient biblical truth that unless we repent of selfishness and greed we'll be punished and destroyed is as relevant today as it was two and a half millennia ago. For half my life I have been preaching about this possibility to deaf ears, sad to say.

Timing error

Cloudy again today, but at least it was mild with no rain. I walked for an hour in Llandaff Fields before cooking lunch a little earlier than usual. I had to leave for St John's by one thirty to take a funeral, and had time to call into Tesco's and buy this week's Foodbank contribution to leave at church. I arrived at church before the caretaker and organist, and several of the funeral attendants were waiting to be let in, and the first members of the congregation were gathering. 

Fortunately I had my keys on me to let everyone in. Eileen the caretaker who is usually there well ahead of time didn't arrive until ten minutes before. She was troubled to discover she'd been given the wrong start time, likewise Monica the organist, who arrived after we'd sung the first hymn unaccompanied, had the scripture readings and a eulogy admirably delivered by the four children of the deceased. It seems they were given the time for the Committal, not the church service. If only one of them had contacted me to confirm the details, as I was the one who'd received written confirmation from the funeral directors. It was an occasion to muddle through and improvise a little, and thankfully it was well received by family and congregation members.

I was driven to the crem by a young lady in her mid twenties, who looked much younger in her formal funereal attire. She told me she'd done a degree in forensic science and worked as a police crime scene investigator for three years before joining Coles' Funeral Directors last year. She declared how delighted she was to be working with people in many varied ways, rather than scientifically gathering data for evidence day in day out. I meet some interesting people in this kind of ministry, ex-cops and soldiers, retired civil servants, business executives, even an ex-EasyJet pilot once. The twenty minute drive to and from Thornhill can lead to some enjoyable conversations and story telling.

I'd left my glasses case in church and asked my driver to drop me off near St John's so I could retrieve it. On the way back, I spotted Clare walking in the the newly opened Alex Gooch Artisan Bakery, so we had a coffee together there after buying bread, and walked home together.

After supper, Clare wanted to watch a movie on TV, I prepared the texts for next week's Morning Prayer recording, wrote a Reflection on the mystery of the Ascension and had a long phone conversation with Ashley, discussing what might have caused my older shaver to become un-chargeable. Next time we meet, he'll take it away for a hands on electrical diagnosis, to see if it's repairable.

Costa de Viento indeed!

Another windy night followed by a grey, windier day with gusts from 30 to 60mph. I spent the morning preparing an order of service for next Wednesday's funeral, and after cooking and eating lunch, drove to St Andrew's to join in the first hour and a half of an afternoon of board games with added British High Tea. Despite the terrible bluster conditions, over two dozen people arrived to join in, pleased to have a normal opportunity to socialise after the disruption of recent years.

The church building is on the ground floor of a ten storey corner block and it really got buffeted hard by the wind, so much so that some of the closed external aluminium window blinds rattled themselves loose of their tracks and gradually began to disintegrate. Two complete blinds were lost, torn apart strip by strip as they came out of their tracks both sides flapping like a flag in the wind. Habitually the blinds are left lowered, to deflect the sun, as for much of the year it can over-heat the church. In windy spells they need to be left rolled up, but it wasn't thought of in good time.

I left at three thirty to drive to Calahonda and visit the bereaved mother and daughter, living in a gated complex of apartments with its own garden and pool overlooking the sea. I was nervous about driving in such a strong wind, but this posed no problem. For hundreds of metres off shore the sea was a white mass of boiling foam, with huge waves breaking a kilometre offshore. It looked terribly threatening, but for the moment the complex is twenty metres or so above the beach. Things may be different where the weather is extreme once the sea level rises, I guess.

The family are from Glasgow, having settled here over twenty years ago. Both mother and daughter had strong accents, and it was difficult to understand what they were saying on times. Anyway, I gave them copies of the proposed order of service and they seemed happy within. The son isn't arriving until next Tuesday. He's going to give a tribute to his dad. The choice of music has been left to me. I have some ideas to check out, and suggest to them over the phone.

On the journey back to Fuengirola, there didn't seem to be a huge amount of traffic, but it seemed to be flowing less freely than usual, and I wondered why. When we reached the rocky promontory at El Faro I realised. There's a stretch of highway beneath which beach turns into a narrow rocky outcrop and the sea runs right up to it. The driving East wind dashed the waves against the outcrop, throwing water high into the air, and the wind then blew it over the eastbound carriageway which was wet and intermittently covered with sea spray. Unusual conditions in which nobody was interested in taking any risk.

After I reached home and had a drink, I decided to get some exercise. Cautiously I made my way down the hill to Los Boliches, to call at St Andrew's and collect a new crime novel to read before strolling down the main street. As it was getting dark, it was nice to see shops lit up and open for business. Back at the church, another shutter was being shredded on the side of the building facing head on into the wind.  It looked as if the whole window and frame might be blown in so two long poles had been propped against the frame and secured in place with tables pushed together. I wonder what it will look like in the morning? Especially if the wind continues.

I made my way uphill, back to the wind this time, a little less hazardous, and made it back to the house without incident. Here in the quiet living room, warm now I've mastered the air blown heating system, the wind moans and howls outside. Time for a read now, and then bed.

Surf's Up!

As soon as I was awake this morning, I posted this week's Morning Prayer link to Whatsapp, then spent a couple of hours recording and editing audio for next week's video before lunch. Then, a call from Caroline about a funeral next Wednesday morning at Fuengirola Crem at 11.30. Fortunately, Fr William is booked to take the Communion service, so there'll be no pressure on me to rush from one to the other. No sooner had I finished the call with Caroline than the funeral director rang and gave me contact details for the widow of the man who died. She was still at the hospital, so I had to wait until late in the afternoon to call her.

After eating I walked down to Fuengirola Puerto along the Paseo Maritime. There was a strong breeze, but the wind was just warm enough to make it pleasantly bracing. The waves rolling into the Playa San Francisco by the port wall were enormous, and the water hosted dozens of surfers making the most of the surf, a spectacular sight. I took the train back to Los Boliches, and stopped at Mercadona on my way back up hill for a second lot of groceries to see me through this week.

On return, I called Alice the widow of the man who died and have arranged to visit her in Calahonda tomorrow afternoon. I chatted with Clare before supper, as she was going out early to a choir practice. Then I called Jen to ask about arrangements for music at Fuengirola Crem, as things may have changed since I was last here. Well, not much as it turns out. Her husband John told me that it's simply a question of bringing your choice of music on a USB stick, and briefing the funeral director to bring his device to play it on. This I can achieve when I meet Alice tomorrow.

The rest of the evening was taken up with uploading just eighteen photos taken this afternoon of surfers and wild sea. Slow internet uploading makes for a lot of machine minding unfortunately. Our internet at home is expensive and set to get much more expensive, but as it's much faster, it's worth the cost.

Losing a voice for grief

After breakfast this morning I started work on next week's Morning Prayer video until it was time to walk to Pidgeon's Chapel for the funeral I was to conduct for a woman who I think was of an age to arrive in  Britain in the Windrush era of immigration from the Caribbean. The service was for a family group of about twenty. After the committal at Western cemetery there was no filling in of the grave by the family, as has been customary at West Indian funerals I recalled from my time in St Paul's Bristol. 

The mourners just stood around silently to start with until the son added a few brief prayers of his own, and invited people to recite the Lord's Prayer again with him. Then someone started singing one of the hymns we'd sung at the service, quietly, bur this faded out as few remembered the words. Then someone played a religious song on their phone, too quietly for other to hear, but someone else got the idea and played another song on a much louder phone. It wasn't as if anyone was trying to fill the silence exactly, but more like groping to do the right thing, as something was felt to be missing in the farewell ritual. It was moving in a way. A generation of middle aged people no longer fully in touch with the ways of the community which had raised and nurtured them, losing its voice I thought.

Clare had lunch ready by the time I got back. While I was out, she took delivery of the standard lamp I'd ordered on Saturday, in a neat surprisingly small package. It was quite a physical struggle with painfully rheumatically hands to unpack and assemble, given the way the components were sheathed tightly in cardboard for transport, but I succeeded eventually. Then I went into town by bus to bank a cheque, and buy some special screw fit light bulbs to go in it. The lamp specifications made no sense in terms of what was on sale in Wilko's Queen Street, which I visited, despite the extensive array of bulbs for sale. So what I bought wasn't right and will have to be taken back tomorrow.

After supper I indulged in another evening of watching episodes of series three of Inspector Rocco Schiavone, all linking together an extensive investigation into gambling and casinos that launder money for criminals. It's long been a problem in national border zones, and often cleverly concealed. It's easier to grasp when laid out in a story than when explored in a long and detailed newspaper article.

Bedazzled

After breakfast, a short stint of duty housework, then a ride to Thornhill for today's funeral with just six of us present, neighbours and me, as there were no next of kin. Before I arrived the crem's on-line digital music system had crashed, and only just recovered. Music for the first service of the day had to be played on from a phone into the minister's microphone instead, but all was well again by the time it was my turn.

I got back at noon and wrote a lengthy response to an email I'd received, which took me an hour, so Clare and I had to work speedily together to deliver the meal we both needed. It was on the table by just after half past one. Despite a good night's sleep, I felt very tired and slept for the best part of an hour, so the sun was setting by the time I went out for a walk and it soon got dark, leaving my having to contend with the dazzling lights of commuting cyclists on my way back. A good reason to walk in the park sooner rather than later in the day at this time of year. 

The new generation of LED lights emit high intensity light, which is good to light one's way, but distressing to the eyes of those who are out walking in the dark, relying on the natural ability of the eyes to adjust adequately to low light levels. The idea of having lights that dip out of concern for other road users seems to have no place in the mindset of night time cycling commuters.

After supper I completed this week's Morning Prayer video and uploaded to YouTube. After more than two days switched on and in use, the new Moto phone needed recharging. That's pretty good battery life. I also took a few photos with it, and was quite impressed by the result. I'm not sure it could replace a proper pocket camera however.

I watched another confusing episode of 'The Blacklist' complete with mumbled dialogue, and spent quite a bit of time with DuoLingo doing new exercises as well.

Everyday kindness

A return to rain and blustery winds today with the occasional ray of sun, and even claps of thunder later in the day. I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning, so that Mother Frances could be free to spend time at the Bishop of Llandaff School after taking their morning service. There were just seven of us today, and some of us lingered in the hall and chatted afterwards. I had to go home and fetch the veggie bad before going to collect our weekly order. Fish pie was on the table for lunch by the time I got back.

My post op eye test was cancelled as optometrist Ceri was off sick. I'm rebooked for the first of December. At least it meant I didn't have to make my way to Cathays by bus and on foot in changeable weather and could relax a bit before walking to the other end of the Parish on a bereavement visit. A local café owner and his wife had been taking care of an elderly single man who visited them every day over years for his daily meal, and even more so when he became vulnerable and housebound. Everyday hospitality overflowing into kindness and compassion and now they're laying him to rest in the absence of any next of kin. 

He died in the house he was born in, something I've heard about before in this part of Cardiff, but quite rare in the shifting sands of modern life. The deceased was a music lover with a collection of 800 classical CDs. My suggestion about choosing music for his funeral was based on a sample selection taken from recently used pile brought back for discussion, but the choice was left to me. A few titles seemed suitable, and having noted them, I checked them out on YouTube before emailing Pidgeon's with the information.

After supper, with not much of interest worth watching on telly, I launched into reading a very recent John Le Carré spy novel left behind by Sister in Law Ann earlier this year. Recent in that Brexit and Trump get mentioned. That's pretty up to date

Scarf and gloves day

As expected, yesterday's spell of physical labour left me feeling quite stiff and tired. It was an effort to get to St Catherine's on time for the Parish Eucharist, but we made it OK. In Conway Road a large lorry and street clean-up team were at work collecting leaves heaped into piles by neighbours along the 400 yards of of tree lined street, working around parked cars. This is one of our local leafy avenues that needs clearing several times in the autumn, when heavy rains lead to blocked drains and waterlogged gutters for weeks on end. There aren't so many trees in our neighbourhood, so I don't think we were visited by the clean up team. Last autumn, a few north easterly gale force winds drown tons of leaves from Llandaff Fields right down Llanfair Road and on some sections of pavement they were knee high. Not so thus far this year.

After lunch I slept for an hour and a half waking up in time for Choral Evensong from Westminster Abbey. I listened to this in headphones with my Blackberry walking around Llandaff Fields for an hour. It was noticeably colder. It's the first time I felt I needed to wear scarf and gloves this autumn, but I hadn't given it a second thought when leaving the house. The wind was strong enough on times to impair the sound quality as I listened. The earphones are good enough for normal domestic use, but not it seems capable of reducing much background noise outdoors.

It was good to listen to the Westminster Abbey choir, however. The place is well rigged for making high quality sound recordings and the choir sings Anglican chant with amazingly clear diction, which takes full advantage of the fact. The highlight for me was the first performance of a new setting of the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis written for the Abbey by Errolyn Wallen a distinguished composer from Belize, currently Artist in residence at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. Two contrasting emotionally powerful pieces of music which capture the mysteriously wonderful character of the text.

I was back home by the end of Evensong, to collect my cassock surplice and stole to go to St John's and take part in a memorial service for bereaved families, held now in many church during November. Only ten people invited from about a hundred sent out. Mourning seems to have become more of a private individual affair these days. With families gathering for a funeral and then dispersing, there's less of an incentive to returning to a place where there has been as much if not more grief experienced than there was consolation offered. People set up memorial websites and share their feelings on social networks from the comfort of their home, rather than don scarf and gloves to venture out on a cold dark night.

The service was themed around the Ecclesiastes text 'to everything there is a season' - fair enough, but to my mind not enough. Nothing about the mystery of Christ's resurrection or eternity or communion. As St Paul wrote "If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied."  I was in charge of reading the names of the departed and offering the prayers on the service sheet. At least it gave me an opportunity to remember my cousin Godfrey. Only after did my misgiving emerge. I should have read the text through weeks ago when I first received it, but didn't.

There was nothing interesting enough to watch on telly, so I spent another evening reading the novel I started yesterday, and went to bed later than intended with a few more chapters to finish. It's got so complicated I'm not sure I gather where it's leading. Not enough to be worth burn the midnight oil to finish anyway.

Unexpected invitation

I woke up late this morning so it was nine before I posted the link to this week's Morning Prayer video. After breakfast, I went to Tesco's to shop for food bank groceries and took them to St John's. There was no Eucharist this week as the church was hosting a clergy in-service training day, but I slipped in and placed our contribution in the collection box, and departed. From what I could gather, a presentation on running church meetings had just begun. How thankful I was to be no longer obliged to attend things like this.

I went home and started preparing lunch early as I was going to be collected for a funeral at Thornhill at one thirty. There were about a dozen people present. The preparation for this one had been difficult, as the next of kin were poor at communicating their requirements for the service and responding to requests for information. Although the deceased didn't die suddenly, it seemed as if those involved were traumatized, unable to act. I gave it my best effort nevertheless. After the service the chief mourners left the chapel without acknowledging me, although a few mourners did express their appreciation. It's hard to know how any follow up might be made, or whether it would be appreciated. A rare experience.

After I returned, Clare and I went for a walk along either side of the Taff, calling into the 'Secret Garden' cafe for a drink. The water level in the river has risen over the past week of occasional rain, covering most of the rocks that have protruded from the river bed over previous months. None of the usual birds were to be seen either, perhaps changing their habits because of the change in their environment.

After supper on BBC Four we watched 'Young Musician of the Year' semi-final, featuring half a dozen very talented pianists. The winner of this section of the competition was Ethan Loch, a eighteen year old Scottish lad, blind from birth, who was able to coax out of the instrument sounds and textures which really inspired the judges in his immaculate and moving performance. It was most inspiring to listen to.

Then I noticed an email had arrived from someone I didn't know. It was from Jen a churchwarden at St Andrew's in Fuengirola, where I did a series of locum duty stints 2013-14 last eight months in all, asking if I'd be interested in returning there in the New Year. I was amazed that this should come to me out of the blue and not via Emma the diocesan locum administrator. Strange to say, this is how I first was asked out if I could cover St Andrew's of the blue, a phone came call, while I was waiting in the departure lounge for a return flight after a spell of duty in Nerja. We had a good time there. We know the house, being its first occupants after it was kitted out for use, and know the chaplaincy area already, so no disconcerting surprises going there again. I'm thrilled! The next step is to sort out dates. It's good to have something like this to look forward to.

Hidden gem

Another damp day, overcast with occasional showers. Rhiannon had an early train this morning, so Clare went with her on the bus to see her off at the station while I was still asleep. After breakfast I read a couple of chapters of 'Invierno en Madrid'. I'm nearly at the end of this 600 page novel now. It's taken me several years in fits and starts. Meanwhile, Clare cooked a curry for lunch.

Straight after, we drove to Rumney for a hairdressing session with Chris. While he was working on Clare's hair I went for a walk down to Parc Tredelerch (the Welsh name for the Parish of Rumney). It's ten minutes walk away from his salon, the other side of the main railway line. It's an area of partially drained marsh land on the eastern bank of the river Rhymney, which flows down the valley of the same name past a town on the edge of the Brecon Beacons out into the Severn Estuary. 

The park contains Lamby lake which takes twenty minutes to walk around. It's the remnant of an ox-bow lake, cut off from the course of the river a long time ago, and now separated from it by  three metre dyke. It's teeming with fish, home to thousands of birds and surrounded by marsh grass, shrubs and trees. Until twenty years ago the area was a site where waste material could be officially dumped, then it was cleared and landscaped to make a park. I was sorry I didn't take a camera with me. Next time I will. It's amazing I knew nothing of this secluded nature reserve on the fringe of a large suburban housing estate until Chris suggested I walk there.

When we got back I went out for another bereavement visit as things are still unsettled about the funeral I'm doing this Thursday. Unfortunately nobody was at home, so I had to send a text message urging the next of kin to contact me. I rang John, one of the funeral arrangers at Pidgeons, and we discussed what needed to be done, and later exchanged emails, so that at least we know what's going to happen.

An early supper, then a walk to St Catherine's for a Fountain Choir rehearsal. The music is challenging, but even more so is reading and absorbing the Latin text. All good fun, and back in time for the final episode of the darkly comic nasty crime thriller 'Inside Man'. As it was about a well meaning Vicar who loses the plot and ends up responsible for a couple of deaths, even though he doesn't kill the victims, I found it uncomfortable watching.

Housing misfortune

Today is Clare's birthday. I forgot to get her a card, but bought her present weeks ago, and a bunch of roses later in the day. After breakfast an early walk to St Catherine's to unlock the church and prepare for the Eucharist. There were five of us, and afterwards we had coffee together in the church hall. When I'd locked up behind me, I went straight to the collection point to pick up our weekly veggie beg, and got home with three quarters of an hour to spare before being collected for a funeral at the Wenallt Chapel in Thornhill. There were two eulogies, one from a representative of the family, the other on behalf of a wide circle of friends. 

The man whose funeral it was had worked for most of his life running a store belonging to John Hall Tools in the Royal Arcade in a public facing job that led to him making friends with scores of customers. This old Cardiff family business was equipping enthusiasts and craft workers for a century before massive retail companies got on the DIY bandwagon. I can remember my father shopping there seventy years ago. One of the remaining family members who worked for the company, Richard Hall was at the service. He was church warden of St John's City Parish Church when I was Vicar there. He's now old and frail, using a walking frame but still quietly active. It was good to see him again.

Clare had a cooked lunch waiting for me when I got back, fresh sardines with rice and veg. We then drove to the Post Office sorting office to collect a parcel which hadn't been delivered or left with a neighbour. Such a nuisance. I dropped her off with the shopping trolley to get some of the week's groceries at Beanfreaks. When she returned, I took the trolley to the Co-op and got the rest of the things we needed.

Distressing news from Owain. Not only has the bank repossessed the flat he made an offer on which was accepted before the owner died, his own rented flat has now got a new owner after his landlord died, and he visited to inspect today. He's thinking of installing his adult children in property, which will mean giving Owain notice to quit. The Bristol housing market has been over inflated by demand from people moving out of London, wanting to work from home and occasionally commute, particularly in the past eighteen months since he started his home purchase quest. 

The likelihood of him finding a new flat to rent is low anyway, and rental costs have gone up by a third to a half. It's grossly unfair and it's happening to thousands of people as a result of government policies rewarding greed and speculation on property. The economic recklessness of the Truss government is depressing the value of the pound and adding to the current inflationary spiral. Recession seems unavoidable. Uncertainty promotes instability. What an awful mess, and there's little that can be done until there's a general election to get rid of the fools who have held the reins of power for far too long.

After supper I started work on new week's offering of Marning Prayer, writing and recording a biblical reflection  the rest can wait until tomorrow.

Nearly late

I posted this week's Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp, just after Thought for the Day this morning. With a funeral at nine forty five at Thornhill, I had to be ready to be collected by nine fifteen. Normally funeral chauffeurs arrive ten minutes early. Today's was seven minutes late, causing me to panic, as you can never be sure of traffic conditions, driving to the crem. Plenty of slack is necessary. 

On this occasion the usual route along Western Avenue and up the Caerphilly Road from Gabalfa wasn't taken. We went via Llandaff North, Whitchurch then Rhiwbina's back streets to avoid traffic queues, and against the odds arrived just on time as the hearse was approaching the Briwnant chapel. I had to bale out and run to the chapel attendant's room for a briefing and put on my vestments. There was no time to greet the next of kin before we started, and somewhat surprisingly the funeral conductor made no effort to introduce me to them, as is customary in case we hadn't met. 

This was an occasion when I had to arrange the service by email and telephone only due to the amount of time between receiving the request and the service, disrupted also by the Queen's death. It was a case of trusting myself to the situation on the understanding that I'd prepared as well as I could. I was relieved that many people expressed appreciation of the service afterwards, but I didn't appreciate having to deliver it under that kind of pressure.

After lunch I welcomed to the house a couple of friends and and couple of family members of the man in Llanfair Road whose funeral I've been asked to take - on Clare's birthday, as it happens. By the time we'd finished we had an order of service and a basic plan for other arrangements as well. Then I went out for my walk in the park. 

Pontcanna Fields now has a tall mobile platform positioned next to the mobile TV control room, to film the King's helicopter landing. The perimeter of the field to be used is marked out with a boundary of blue string, but no security barriers. It's odd. Maybe they're not expecting people to turn up and watch. Or maybe a wider security cordon will be imposed with armed personnel to keep the public away. There has been no specific mention of the landing site, perhaps for security reasons, although it's obvious. It could be that the transfer from helicopter to limousine for the ride out of the park to Llandaff is planned to take place at such speed that no other measures are required. I'll find out when I go there tomorrow morning. Access to Llandaff Village will certainly be controlled, to ensure residents get the benefit.

There was nothing of interest to watch on live telly tonight, so I turned to More Four Walter Presents and found a new French crimmie series to watch, based in Strasbourg, featuring a hypocondriac detective inspector. The investigations are serious and keep your attention but the interactions between characters are often humorous. The regional accent takes a little getting used to, but it's entertaining viewing..

Sunday funeral

We were up at dawn this morning, watching the sun rise above the scorched hill to the east of us, about ten minutes after the sun appeared on the far side of Estepona bay, An early email from Andrea told me that I was mistaken about Fr William's arrival time, so I had to email the funeral arranger and apologise for mis-informing him about his availability.

We picked up Patricia at nine for the drive to the service at San Pedro, which this week used service books and hymnals again. Following the service a party of seven came with Auntie Jessie's ashes and I officiated at a full funeral service for her before they took her remains away to scatter off her favourite beach. 

We used a new bluetooth speaker linked to my phone to provide music for the three hymns we sang. It worked fine, except that the rendering of hymns they had chosen wasn't easy to sing along to because of the way the organist paused un-necessarily between verses. That was my error unfortunately, but we muddled through.

Then I joined Clare and Patricia and other members of the congregation at Cafe Tradicional for a much needed drink before driving back to the house. Several people remarked how I seem to have been busier with additional pastoral duties than other locum chaplains. For me it's made my stay worthwhile. Next Sunday is my last, and there's another baptism this time at the Sotogrande service.

I cooked while Clare went for a swim, then while she had a post-lunch siesta I worked on my end-of-duty report. As it wasn't very hot at the end of the afternoon, we went down to the Play Guadalbon so Clare could have another swim in the sea at a different location. There are some places where conditions within safe distance of the shore are better than others. A matter of trial and error.

After supper, I slumped in front of the telly and watched Countryfile and Antiques Roadshow before turning in for the night. Although that wasn't such a hot day, I found it rather tiring.

Anniversary music making

The feast of the Transfiguration today, our 56th wedding anniversary. We have so much to be thankful for. I sent Clare an audio and a video WhatsApp message first thing. She responded with her first self recorded affort at playing Cole Porter's song 'Easy to love'. Just to see if I could, I played it back and sang an amended version of the lyrics into my voice recorder, and to my amazement it worked quite well, considering the studio conditions. We were both delighted with the result, thanks to WhatsApp and Audacity. Another ten days and we'll be together again!

It's also the 77th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, and despite the 'never again' sentiments expressed at the time there are now nine states in the world which have nuclear weapons, and tensions in international relationships in several directions are dangerously high. Nuclear weapons could get used by accident despite all the precautions we presume all nuclear states take to avoid this. All this, while global heating threatens to make the planet uninhabitable by the end of this century, due to the inability of people in power to make the necessary compromises and sacrifices to curb carbon emissions this involves. 

In the three and a half weeks I've been here, the occupants next door to the right haven't changed. They may be permanent residents. On the left side there have been at least five different sets of occupants staying for a few days at a time. This morning early I heard noises next door and for the first time, saw a young woman cleaning the terrace. It could be the house is let out on AirBnB, or maybe run by a hotel nearby for short term lets. As happens with the Oxwich Bay Hotel. I confess that I'm missing our short family sojourn there this year. We must go there for a few days this autumn. I prefer its wildness to the Costa del Sol's urban luxury. Mojácar with its nature reserve resembles Oxwich in some respects.

It started to cool down mid afternoon, so I walked down to Carrefour to buy some fruit and veg for to top up my supplies for the weekend. When I got back, and was working on a report at my desk, I had a call about a funeral service for a lady who died and was speedily cremated two weeks ago, a long term ex-pat resident living in sheltered accommodation. Originally the relatives were considering a date in September, but decided they couldn't wait that long, so the proposal now is to have a service on 21st August after the Sunday morning Eucharist at San Pedro. This is a day when I don't have to drive down to Sotogrande. So, part of the evening was taken up with putting together a service text and sending it to the next of kin for approval.

Then I went out for a sunset walk, and on the way back had a video call from Owain, who was visiting Clare. They'd been out to supper at 'La Cuina'. A nice touch on our wedding anniversary. Then, time to turn in early, for an early start tomorrow.

¡Fuego!

I woke up and looked at my phone a minute before the alarm I'd set was due to sound. It's the second time that's happened. I collected Patricia at nine twenty and by half past we parked at the Parque Cementerio Santo Cristo de la Veracruz and already mourners were gathering. The crem has a large covered waiting area with seats and plants, several viewing rooms, and a chapel that will 140 at a guess. It was full. 

There was an order of service hymn sheet for people to join in, and my goodness they did, singing a couple of well known hymns and saying Amen to each prayer with gusto. That's an experience I've not had often in a crematorium service in the past thirty years. Most present were churchgoers or American Club members which meant that many knew each other well and were relaxed enough to express themselves at losing a good friend. 

I had emailed Rosella, who lives above Rincon, two hour's drive from here, and she came! A long standing friend of Lew's and American club member she was keen to make the effort. I missed her after the service, I suspect she went off to an American Club members' wake. The main body of English church members went to Rick's bar restaurant in the Marina. I joined them there for an hour, chatting with several people. The service was much appreciated. I was nervous about getting things right, but once I arrived there I was in my element, and able to give of my best. I was even able to make fair conversation in Spanish with the funeral guys, and be understood. Not that I will ever understand the bureaucracy involved!

After lunch I had a siesta. There was a very hot wind outside but with everything closed the house was relatively cool. About quarter to four I got up and started writing this blog. Then there was a series of loud percussive noises which sounded like a large volume of water being poured from a height. At ten two, I went downstairs to check and discovered the uncultivated hillside on the other side of the valley was on fire! What I was hearing was the sound of fire bursting out in new patches of vegetation. 

I called Patricia to find out the emergency number for the bomberos, but as we spoke the sound of sirens could be heard. The scorching west wind blew down the valley, but the fire went up it, against the wind incinerating about a square kilometre of grass and shrub, right up to the line of the houses on the top of the neighbouring hill. People poured out of their houses, took pictures, talked among themselves, then returned indoors. It was far too hot to stay outside for more than ten minutes. The last hour has been punctuated with the wailing of sirens.

The uphill lane of the autovia was closed off as the flames reached the top of the arroyo valley which it crosses. Then about half past five, a procession of helicopters started arriving with water buckets aiming for critical points in the fire path, augmenting the work of the ground based fire crews. Clouds of white, grey and black smoke rise up from different places along the hillside, but notably in the depth of the valley where the arroyo banks are populated with cane - probably sugar cane given the hint of sweetness on the breeze. Estepona bay was once an area of sugar cane plantations, cane grows wild here and may have been here before industrialisation.

The fire continues to blaze over the other side of the hill from here, behind the Policia Local compound and the urbanizacion beyond it. Patricia called to tell me. It's near where she lives. The prevailing wind has taken the fire away from where I'm staying for now. It'll be 32C tomorrow, but what about the wind?

By a quarter to seven the autovia's uphill lane had re-opened, and the symphony of emergency sirens was drawing to its end, the helicopters had watered the side of the road at the top of the hill where fire was still spreading. Over the brow of the hill is an industrial estate, and the huge Lidl I visited the other day on foot. The fire will not have gone close to the supermarket, but I'm not sure about some  warehouses. There has been a lot of thick black smoke along the brow of the hill. The fire has travelled the other side, and that's now where the helicopters are flying with the precious watery load. It's almost as quiet as usual, after three intense hours of watching and wondering. Which way will the fire go next time?

After a snack supper, it had cooled down enough to venture down the hill and take a few more photos of the scorched landscape. The bomberos were still working dampening down hotspots, taking a chainsaw to some remaining cane verges along the edge of the arroyo that has the un-made road, making a wider fire gap to protect this side of the valley. The fire ground is still cordoned off, including the housing area to which the fire came nearest, from where people had to be evacuated. Diario Sur Estepona reports that 600 people are being re-housed overnight for safety's sake at the Estepona's Palacio de Congresos. The thick black smoke at the brow of the hill was from a commercial storage yard for non-leisure specialised boats. I hope they're insured, or else that's several people's livelihood down the pan.

To get the burning smell from my nostrils, I took a walk along the sender litoral. The hot wind emptied the beach of people and made wavelets along an empty shore. Too hot and windy for paseo y charlar tonight. Helicopters still circulating, keeping the area under observation. The wind dying down could just change direction and fan up hidden embers for a re-match with the bomberos. 

It's been an exceptional experience, this afternoon, witnessing the teamwork between fire crews on the ground and in the air. What a day altogether, in fact.

Full Sunday

On Sundays, I need to set an alarm, to make sure I have enough time to be out of the house by nine. This gets me out of bed at sunrise with everything ready to leave on time. Not my usual leisurely start to the day! I collected Patricia from the bus stop near her home and by twenty to ten we arrived at church. Most people already knew about Lew's unexpected death, and naturally needed to talk abut it. 

Just after we'd started Thea's mobile phone rang. She's the sort of person who'd never leave her phone on in church, but since early morning she'd been waiting for a call from the funeral directors about the precise timing of the service on Tuesday. She took the call very quietly. I think many people knew what was going on, and most wanted to know, but we waited until the end to inform everyone that the funeral would be at ten om Tuesday in Estepona's Tanatorium (aka crem.) I made reference to Lew in the sermon, and the lady leading the intercessions was prayed tearfully for Lew, and she wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes, He was much loved.

There were thirty of us in church, including five children. We finished just within the hour and by five past eleven I was on my way to Sotogrande for the midday service, but not before I dropped my reading glasses in the courtyard and both lenses popped out. I couldn't stop to fix them. It was the first time for me to drive the regular route to Sotogrande from San Pedro. It took just under forty minutes. Having done the journey and found the church two days running, the uncertainty about travel timing and finding my way on the last stretch is now alleviated. 

I had no success in fixing my proper glasses when I arrived and had to use my spare pair of cheap specs instead, and they weren't as good as they needed to be for customary reading text at arms length. While Geoff the churchwarden is away for the summer, the church reverts to using hymn books and service sheets, rather than projected slides as inn  San Pedro. This changes things, and I didn't have a complete service text to work from in a decently readable size, and they weren't words I knew by heart, to busk my way through. I got through OK, although I suspect my voice quality dropped when I was obliged to look down to read. It's one of the few times when impaired vision has been a factor undermining my ability to lead a service to my own satisfaction. This won't happen next time. I'll be better prepared.

There were seventeen of us for the Eucharist. Many are on holiday, some are self isolating because of covid contact or illness. A man I spoke to afterwards remembered I'd been a locum priest at St Andrew's Fuengirola, eight years ago, when both Costa del Sol chaplaincies had no priest. He'd been a church warden at the time and approached me to do a couple of wedding blessings down here. I was also asked to take a funeral at Manilva Tanatorio around the same time, but the next of kin lived beyond Málaga, and arranged for the service to take place near where the the deceased had spent her life.

I was back at the house by two, noticing when driving into the urbanización that it's not called 'Beverley Hills', but 'Beverly Hill'. Ooops! There was a lump meat in the freezer, but I couldn't tell what it was until it was defrosted. It turned out to be beef, something I've not eaten in the past three years, if not longer. I diced half of it up and stewed it with some vegetables alubia beans and a glass of Rioja to make my own version of a cazuelo. I was quite pleased at the result.

At four I had a visit from Thea and Patricia, to plan Lew's funeral service. When they took their leave I set about editing together the requisite sets of words, and an MP3 of a slow movement from a Mozart Piano concerto, for exit music. I'm not yet sure how this is all going to work out but one way or another it will. A pity that it's such short notice.

I left it until sunset to walk along the sender litoral, but it was cooler and refreshing after another humid hot day. I caught part of a crimmie on ITV set in the South of France. It's made entirely in English, and this seems so odd, a characterless throwback to long gone decades of movie making. By way of contrast 'The Archers' has gone bi-lingual with the birth of Tom and Natasha's twin daughters. Our Mam has come to stay, and there's Welsh conversation between them, oh so correct, with no borrowed English words, not really that true to life, but so nice to hear on national radio. I bet there's be complaints.