Armistice Eve banquet

Last night I went to bed early and slept late, after switching on the radio for 'Thought for the Day', then falling asleep again, so I benefited from a good long night's sleep. Again, rain at night, dry with the odd shower all day. I spent the morning re-writing a sermon for Remembrance Sunday around the readings for the day. based on ideas first expressed six years ago on Remembrance Sunday in Mojacar, but in need of adapting to quite a different setting and time. 

Sometimes it's easier to start a sermon from scratch, but these are dark times. Back then it was possible to reflect in a more positive way on how the impact of war on society has changed during my lifetime. Still terrible numbers of casualties, but a tenth of the number lost in the great World Wars in the years since the UN was founded. 

Yes, it's not good enough, but the key to preventing wars is in just and equal treatment for all people. If there's mutual prosperity, resentments don't breed in the same way and lead to violence. It's a simple lesson, which prophetic scripture points towards. But the lessons still haven't been learned or accepted universally. The more we invest in tackling the rich-poor divide, aiming at equality, the more peacemaking will bear fruit. Conflict in the Holy Land is an example of the rejection of this understanding. Undoing the physical, moral and spiritual damage of this war is going to take a very long time.

Clare went out to the Optometrists for a vision checkup this morning and didn't return until early afternoon so I made myself a lightweight pasta with veggie sauce for lunch, to prepared for the evening's banquet. I went for an hour's walk before taking time to get into my formal evening dress kit in order to leave on time for the United Services Mess dinner at the Angel Hotel in town. 

The scheduled bus at ten past six didn't come, so I walked to Cowbridge Road and caught a 17 from then. In the queue in front of us as we left the stop, was the next 61 bus, arriving at Cowbridge Road East at much the same time. The printed timetable on the stop bears no resemblance to reality, and can't be relied on, especially in the evenings.

I was about ten minutes late arriving for the pre supper reception, and met Cardiff's Lady Mayor, and a number of familiar faces from previous dinners, before we were ushered in to the banqueting hall to the customary ritual hand-clapping. Our guest of Honour  and after dinner speaker was Air Vice-Marshal Ian Townsend with general oversight of Britain's military establishments and training programme. He was raised on a Bristol housing estate and flew fast jets on active service for most of his career, being raised through the ranks meanwhile for his leadership ability and thinking. A remarkable story of one entrusted with key roles in the continuing evolution of Britain's defence capability. Interesting to learn at the reception that in his down-time he's a sports referee.

His speech was impressive in painting a big picture of the armed forces in which all participants are to be equally valued. Mutual interdependence in the duty of serving the country is at the core of military strength.  True also in the life of the church, though this often seems to be forgotten. He observed that from the defence perspective there's more than meets the eye to be concerned about in the condition of civil society than wars in Ukraine and Palestine. I think he was talking about terrorism, but he didn't elaborate. The food  and wine (Chilean) was good and plentiful, the food for thought even more so.

Saying the Grace I composed earlier in the day, for 150 diners raised a loud Amen. It occurred to me that it's one of the biggest congregations I've ever prayed with! For the first time in twenty years I think, I spoke the venerable memorial stanza from the hymn 'O valiant hearts' in the dark from memory with confidence without fluffing my lines. Quite a personal achievement for me. 

I didn't stay on for a nightcap at the Mess, but walked along the route of the 61 bus and picked one up that got me home before eleven, after an enjoyable evening, performing the traditional Mess Chaplain's role in the company of a fine bunch of men and (these days) women. An honour and a privilege.

Just in time - with Cardiff bus

Up and breakfasted in time to drive to St Peter's Fairwater to celebrate the Eucharist at ten fifteen with twenty two others. During the coffee morning after the service, Fr Colin the former Vicar came around to get some plants from the community garden, looking well and relaxed, enjoying his retirement. He'd come over from celebrating Mass at St Augustine's in Llanrumney. It's what we do, use retired clergy, fill in the gaps, when incumbent clerics are overloaded with demands.

I drove home again, to collect the empty veggie bag and then went to exchange it for a full one at the new veggie bag depot in the courtyard of Chapter Arts, as it used to be before covid. For the past three years the pickup place was in the front garden of a house in Eton Place, but the woman who hosted it there is now moving elsewhere, and Chapter has agreed to host the depot once more. Clare was already in the throes of cooking prawns with veggies and rice for lunch when I returned, nice and early, as I needed to go to 'The Res' in Ely to celebrate their midweek Mass at two fifteen.

I decided not to go by car, for fear of losing our street parking place. This often happens when there's a big event in town, as people driving in from elsewhere for major sporting events, tend to park away from the immediate city centre and hi-jack neighbourhood parking spaces and walk into town. Beyonce was starting her latest world concert tour in Cardiff this evening at the stadium. Clare feared our parking space might be nabbed, so I resolved to take to 18 bus up to Grand Avenue where the church is instead.

I walked to the nearest Cowbridge Road East bus stop for an eighteen bus and was there by just after one thirty. A succession of four westbound buses passed me, none of which was an eighteen, the only one to go the length of Grand Avenue, past the church. In town, because of the concert, there was traffic chaos, with people from all over Europe, let alone Britain arriving for the concert, and the buses having to make their ways through heavier than usual traffic.

Last in the procession of westbound buses, nearly twenty minutes after I reached to bus stop, came two number 18s, nose to tail! I had no clear idea of how long the journey would take so I found the email address of Carol, one of the steadfast long standing members of the congregation, and sent a message to warn her I might be delayed. We had an eccentric bus driver who sang silly songs and made lame jokes all the way there. It certainly cheered up an otherwise tense journey! Carol was looking out for me at the gate when I arrived. I actually ran a hundred yards from the bus stop down to the church, the first time I have been able to do that since I sprained my ankle last December, with no ill effect. By leg behaved itself surprisingly well today, and I arrived with couple of minutes to spare.

I joined the congregation of nine for coffee and a chat afterwards, and we had a great laugh together recalling the days of our young. Almost all were in their late seventies or eighties, and talked about the places they frequented in their youth in Cardiff. We talked about first experiences of foreign imported food, and a man and his wife told the story of how he turned up the collect his wife for their first date in a red London bus whose brakes he'd just serviced. He'd gone to collect her from home driving the bus to pick her up and take her to town. Unfortunately her parents weren't impressed, but there they were some sixty years later, anyway.

Back home on the 18 bus to Canton once more, realising on the way that I'd taken off my specs in the sacristy and left them there. Carol will bring them to the Ascension Day Mass at St Luke's which I will be celebrating tomorrow night. Our Basque neighbour Miriam was on the bus. We walked home talking in a mixture of Spanish and English. She works in a special needs school with severely disable kids the other side of Ely Vale from 'The Res'. That was a nice surprise.

After arriving home, I did some shopping, then went for a walk around the park, getting back just in time for the Archers. Afterwards, I spent the evening writing a sermon for tomorrow evening. All in all, a busy but enjoyable day.

Celebrating the unconventional

Thankfully, the weather was much better today, mostly sunny with clouds. Sara Ebba and I walked into town along the Taff trail into town. We visited the Castle briefly, then St John's. Then we walked around the shops and ended in John Lewis for a drink before catching a 61 bus home outside the Holiday Inn. 

A passer-by told us that three 61 buses were parked waiting for drivers in Westgate Street, and to expect delays, or take a different bus route out to West Cardiff. It's not unusual these days for scheduled bus not to turn up. It seems we're still suffer a driver shortage in the city, post pandemic. In fact we only had to wait ten minutes for a double decker to turn up. Sara and I swapped stories over tea at the kitchen table when we got back, while Ebba relaxed upstairs in our attic bedroom, and did whatever fiftern year olds do in their down time.

Clare cooked a chick pea curry for supper, then Sara watched 'Emmadale' before both went to bed early. Short stay visits in a different time zone can be taxing for a natural early riser. I continued watching 'Astrid Murder in Paris'. It's been very favourably reviewed on IMDB, and I agree with this. It's good to see portrayed a positive image of an autistic person and the problems many people have with someone who thinks and acts in original  unconventional ways.

Then I decided it was also time for me to turn in for an early night as well.

The cleaner sound

A cold clear night followed by a bright sunny day with clear skies and quite mild for this time of year. The only significant development in Ukraine is a two hour video conference between Presidents Biden and Putin. Meanwhile the bombed theatre in Mariupol whose basement is said to have been sheltering 800-1000 people is slowly being evacuated while the area is under continuous fire from Russian forces. 130 have been rescued alive so far. Over a hundred empty prams and baby buggies have been assembled in the city of Lviv, representing the number of children killed so far in this onslaught. Meanwhile Putin, his regime and most of his citizens are in denial about the responsibility of their forces for such crimes. Every day we ask ourselves, how much longer can this go on?

I went by bus over to St German's for today's Lent lunch. The first bus I took was ten minutes late and it took me a while to find a bus for the second leg of the journey, so I arrived half a hour late, in time to eat but was annoyed to miss Malcolm's talk. There were about fifteen of us, several came from other churches in the Roath Ministry Area,including Mike and Geraldine Payne, whom I knew as members of Saint Michael's Church in my days as Rector of Central Cardiff. Mike is now the Ministry Area lay co-chair. Mike's now retired from being a full time Trades Union Official and brings to his new role a wealth of experience on social justice concerns which the churches will really value.

I caught a forty nine bus from Newport Road to return to the city centre and walked home from there. The brightly painted new bus was an all electric vehicle, one of a number bought since last autumn by Cardiff Bus. Part of their fleet is low emission fuelled vehicles, in a different livery, plus the remainder which is now slowly being phased out, in the old Cardiff dark green livery. 

The sound of an electric bus took me back to Geneva days where electric trolley buses have run since they were invented after trams, as the city had a convenient source of hydro power. It also took me back to the sounds of my youth when Cardiff also had electric double decker trolley buses. How much quieter and less malodorous the air of the city centre will be in a few years from now. The air is improving with more electric cars on the road, as it also improved thirty years ago as catalytic exhausts were introduced. The smell of diesel car exhaust is still noticeable, as is that from central heating systems whose boilers haven't been serviced.

When I got back home, I prepared Monday's funeral service and eulogy, and then got ready to leave early for the Millennium Centre for tonight's WNO performance of Janaczek's opera Jenufa. We were invited to a 'Friends' drinks reception before it started with a helpful brief introductory talk from WNO's musical director Aidan Lang. It's a beautiful work, dating from the turn of the 20th century, and the cast of singers was superb and evenly matched for their different roles. It's a sad story which highlights the power of forgiveness to redeem a tragic situation, while portraying powerful men as morally weak and powerless women as morally strong. Very thought provoking, with exquisite music.

On the bus again

There were ten of us at the St John's midweek Eucharist this morning. It wasn't warm enough to sit outside and chat afterwards, so the congregation quickly dispersed. I stayed to chat with Benedict and Emma for a while afterwards, to check with Emma about the details of my 50th anniversary Eucharist celebration the Sunday after next. I'm going to preside and preach and she'll distribute Communion as usual. I suggested this as thought it would serve as a positive witness to partnership in ministry. 

I had a couple of parcels to post, and was surprised that nobody was queuing either inside or outside the local Post Office. It's quite unusual. Having heard that Riverside clinic was open to patients, so I then went to see if the wound clinic was open as well, being in need of another  box of dressing pads. Thankfully it was business as usual. Home then, to cook lunch

Later, we decided to walk into town together, but we saw a couple of people standing by the 61 bus stop outside Conway Road Methodist Church. On impulse we decided to take the bus as one was approaching. It was the first time for both of us to use public transport since February. 

It's good that wearing masks is now obligatory. Everyone must be seated, passenger capacity is limited. Sideways seats behind the driver are cordoned off and unused, waiting in the area closest to the door is banned. No standing allowed.  I've noticed the heads up destination board on the front of buses can now display a sign saying 'Sorry, bus full'.  It's just as well fewer people are frequenting the city centre at the moment, otherwise bus queues would be long and tempers frayed.

Just after we arrived, Clare realised that due to catching the bus, she'd forgotten to collect a prescription she needed, so she turned straight around straight and walked back to the pharmacy in Canton before it closed. It wasn't long before I lost interest was heading for home through the park.

After supper, Beethoven's 7th symphony was being broadcast from the Albert Hall, in the BBC Proms series. Rather than watch it, I listened on the BBC Sounds app, piped through the sound system in my study, while I added a few pages to my novel, still wondering just how I'm going to bring it to an end. The story-line seems to have evolved with a life of its own until lately. Now it seems to require a lot more effort from me to complete.  

Dai, my main character has an interesting life, mostly happy, free from dramatic suffering and tragedy. He experiences the loss of all the significant others in his life when young, and for years, although sociable, lives alone, works hard as a craftsman, capable, self-reliant, abiding by what others have taught him, always dwelling in the moment. Love comes to meet him mid-life. Being a family man transforms him. He goes from a wanderer's life to settling down and raising a family, returning to his home town, nurtured by his past but never yearning for it. 

He's a gifted performer with no desire to impress. He's content to sing and tell stories, to share the pleasure he finds in folk music. His satisfaction lies in the pleasure of doing everything well, in being appreciated without needing fame and fortune to boost his ego. He's lucky to be spared misfortune and knows it, never taking anything for granted. Raised attending Church, he isn't devout or conventionally religious, yet his life is deeply informed by what he absorbed unconsciously in his choirboy years. He doesn't need to speak about it, but live it modestly, to the full. Not quite an Everyman figure, but I think I've met many like him through my years of ministry, inside and well outside the church.

I've still no idea where Dai came from in my imagination, except that I'd been reflecting on growing up in the South Wales Valleys and wrote a pen portrait of a local character in my home town last year, as an exercise in creative writing. The cousin Dianne persuaded me to write a few pieces about the 1980 St Paul's riots, and Dai emerged from my unconscious in the middle of this exercise. Strange!

Surgeon's inspection day

As Clare was working in kindergarten this morning, I chose to go by bus to Llandough Hospital for my long awaited surgical inspection. It poured down cruelly, on the fifteen minute walk to the nearest bus stop to get the 94 and 95 services which call there. I had to wait half an hour at a stop without a shelter, and it continued to rain throughout. Apparently the weather was causing schedule delays, and giving me the panics. I arrived soaking wet, rain penetrating through to my jacket beneath, half an hour early, and was pleased to discover that appointments for outpatient consultations are at the new reception area close to the entrance, so I didn't have to walk an extra third of a mile to the zone where the outpatient surgery theatres are sited.

Three others were being seen by Mrs Cornish, and I was second. She asked how I was feeling and I told her that I sensed though couldn't see the improvement, but for me the measurable sign of this is a huge reduction in medical dressing waste needing to be bagged and go out with the rubbish, at which she laughed. She inspected my wound and said she was very pleased with it. There needs to be a final operation to remove the Seton's suture, clean up and then plug the remaining holes. This again has but a fifty percent chance of success in preventing recurrence. 

Is this because the damage done by the long wait to get treatment in the first place was rather serious? But let's not go there. If this doesn't work, and a wound re-opens and leaks, there are two other plugging surgical techniques to be tried. It's not a matter of an ageing body it seems. The same can happen to someone half my age, if their condition isn't dealt with promptly.

The less than good news is that there'll be a three month wait for the final surgery. Mrs Cornish has had four operating theatre bookings cancelled for coming months due to a shortage of anaesthetists, and on top of that there's the impact of the run up to the Christmas and New Year holidays disrupting schedules as well. As they did last year, delaying the start of my treatment. It's the way things are, with inadequate NHS investment in people and services, plus poor management in some quarters. What a mess the country's in, and unfortunately us oldies living longer and failing to stay healthy add to the burden, so we must beware of complaining too loudly.

At least I know where I am now, and that makes waiting patiently less burdensome. For the most part I can cope with the residual pain and discomfort, although I still won't be able to offer to start locum duties once more, until I know when the next surgery date will be. I may be a few weeks before I am given a date. An earlier date might be possible if there was a cancellation and I was prepared to enter the lottery of a qualified duty surgeon assigned to the task, but Mrs Cornish has seen me through thus far, and that element of trust and confidence is important enough for me to be prepared to wait.

  

Mojácar bound

I was pleased not to have to get up extra early for my Alicante bound flight this morning, and said goodbye to Clare at ten to nine. I was less pleased when no 61 bus appeared after twenty minutes waiting. I that time normally three should have appeared. Feeling desperate and furious at Cardiff Bus, I strode down to a bus stop on Cowbridge Road, and caught an X1 bus to the bottom of St Mary Street, after a two minute wait. As I boarded, three 61 buses came past on to Cowbridge Road within minutes of each other, one a double decker. What on earth is going on? What excuse can there be for this kind of unpredictability when buses now use digital scheduling mechanisms that synchornise with bus stop heads up displays?

Thankfully, a T9 Airport shuttle bus pulled in a minute after my arrival at the Custom House Street stop, the one after I had intended to catch. Just as I arrived at Vueling bag drop, the desks opened to receive luggage from a queue of about forty people, and I began to calm down and relax. Forty give minutes later, I sat and waited in the departure lounge for my flight to be called and drank a coffee. The flight left on time and arrived early. By half past four, I was being waved at by Tony and Janice who'd kindly come to collect me. My original plan had been to take a coach and be picked up, late evening, from Huercal Overa bus station, an hour from Mojacar, but anxiety about whether my back would cope with such a journey, when healing nicely after a treatment by Kay on Monday, led me to ask if I could be picked up.

Just after seven, we reached Mojácar. I deposited my bags in the Chaplaincy apartment, and was then taken out to supper at the Mediterraneo beach Restaurant at the other end of town. It was a very pleasant experience with a full view of the sea with an almost full moon, through the dining room window. Then, back to the apartment to unpack and get on line. It was easier said than done unfortunately, as the router was not functionng properly. 

It's a Huwawei 4G hub, designed to link to a carrier signal from a local cellphone mast, and deliver fast-ish broadband to any number of home devices. I discovered that it wasn;t working since it had hit its data cap. Interestingly enough, it has a second 4G PAYG sim for top-up purposes, arranged in a rather convoluted way by phone to the account managment call centre. I may be wrong, but having read the instructions provided about this, the device had the drained PAYG SIM card in it. I found the other SIM, inserted it and immediately had broadband wifi, since the previous months data cap had been replaced by the October allowance. The system had been idle over the week since the previous locum Chaplain left. 

The concept makes sense, but it would be more effective if it was possible to augment the data allowance via a mobile phone. Perhaps you can, but nobody has bothered yet, as there's a different habitual way of getting things to work. It's just a bit disconcerting when arriving in a new place and having to troubleshoot before phoning home and going to bed. Ah well, never mind. It's good to be here again in a familiar place.

Bank holiday Penarth

A bright sunny day with clear skies, if a little chilly, but worth making the effort to get out of the house for a walk, so we went to Penarth by bus. It was colder than we'd anticipated while we were waiting for the 92 bus in Wood Street, so we bought a warm snack from Gregg's to keep us going. We walked from Penarth town centre, down through Alexandra Park to the promenade, then along the busy clifftop path to the point where it becomes a track through trees, and the Coast Path proper. That was as far as I could manage, as my leg started playing up as we walked down the steep slope through the park. I may not have been warmed up enough, and had a few unpleasant unexpected joint pains to deal with until we reached a level surface. Yet, no trouble walking uphill. It's a strange affliction, and may suggest that a nerve is getting pinched as the knee joint slowly gets back to normal.

We stopped in Cioni's clifftop snack bar for another warming drink. I wasn't precise enough in ordering a coffee, and was served with a capuchino sloppily made with instant coffee powder that didn't fully dissolve. That's the first time I've had a milky coffee in several years. Instant black coffee is just about tolerable. I can't imagine now how I put up with milky coffee for so many decades of my life, when the unadulterated taste is so good. But it's said that your taste buds change as you get older - for better and for worse.

On way back, I noticed for the first time a gateway and lodge leading to a linear park about 30 meters above and behind the promenade, a traffic free alternative, frequented by far fewer walkers, offering a good elevated view of the shore below. This is Windsor Park, and it links up with Alexandra Park at the north east end. Amazing to think that in the many years we've been visiting Penarth, we've never noticed this feature before. Both the Marie Curie and Holm Towers hospices are located on the road above Windsor Park, and both have back gates providing access for still mobile residents and visitors. It's an impressive apect of their location, a way in which this marvellous coastal townscape ministers to its most special sojourners.

Buses running today, as Bank Holiday, were supposed to be on the Sunday timetable, but it didn't work out like that where buses out of Cardiff to the Vale of Glamorgan were concerned. There was an early football match at Cardiff City stadium, causing traffic chaos with immediate impact on Penarth buses. We had to wait three quarters of an hour for ours, and the temperature was dropping below 4C, as the sun bathed the street in shadow. We managed to get warm once we were on the bus, but soon got chilly waiting ten minutes for a local bus to get us back to Pontcanna. A cup of tea and a couple of mince pies proved a perfect remedy, plus a hot curry, which I cooked for supper later. There'll be frost tonight.

  

  

Movie outing

It's lovely to have Rachel and Jasmine here. The aroma of pancakes cooking for a late breakfast treat fills the house in the morning. Then the girls went to the swimming pool, and after an early lunch, I went into town and booked tickets for an early evening showing of the 'Minions' film, at Cineworld.

Today is when the bus station closures hit the working week. I wondered how the traffic was going to be managed, and chatted with the driver on my way into town. There are new drop off bus stops and bus lanes in Westgate Street, and now certain buses destined to return from the opposite side of Westgate Street must go left into Lower St Mary Street, and do their turn around in Callaghan Square and then make their way back, as there's no longer entry into the bus station. It seems to be working well. It needs to, as it'll be a couple of years before the new bus station is ready for use.

 

Then, I went to the office to complete the task of making Ashley's new PC fit for work. It wasn't as easy as I'd hoped to set up the email client to access a BT account, so it's a matter of continuing to use webmail for the time being. Gmail set up with Windows 10 Mail was easy, but I was was amused to receive a security notification from Google, declaring the account had been accessed from Internet Explorer, not from Windows 10 Mail So much for the all-new operating system that does away with I.E.!

At six, the four of us met outside the cinema and ascended to the dizzy heights of the top storey, with its fabulous townscape views, to plunge ourselves into the deafening darkness of the movie studio for 'Minions'. The hi-fi surround sound was too loud for comfort throughout and detracted from the enjoyment. I like to listen and not be bombarded acoustically. I lost count of the movie trailers we saw first, five or six I think. All the advertisements were the same as those we get  pestered with a dozen times a night on TV, in huge HD versions. Boring. They soon cease to be entertaining or informing.

The film's certification said it was fit for children (true) but contained mild comedic (?) violence. Well, like all cartoon movies since the genre was invented I guess, but so much gets tiresome. The film was hilariously funny, a 'prequel' the cartoon movie 'Despicable Me', whose sequel we watched last night. To my mind was better at satirizing American culture than its was at satirizing Britain, the monarchy and the church. It's not something I would have gone out of my way to watch, if it hadn't been an occasion for a family outing. But then the same is true of most things that pass for 'entertainment' today.

A bussy day

With both parish clergy on holiday, I was drafted in to celebrate two Eucharists this morning, one at St Luke's for ten people followed by another at St Catherine's for half a dozen. Clare again needed the car for an appointment, so I was obliged to walk between churches with hardly enough time to arrive punctually. Thankfully, an 11 bus came along as I came close to a stop, saving me five minutes, and it deposited me at a stop close to the 61 bus route. I got lucky a second time as another bus turned up as I was approaching a second stop. This brief journey saved me a few minutes more and got me to the church with ten minutes to spare.

After the second service, I walked over to Cathedral Road and took another bus into town to visit the National Express ticket office to book a coach seat to visit my sister June in London tomorrow. Here my luck ran out. There was only room on the much too early 5.30am coach. Every coach thereafter until 2.30pm was full, as it's such a busy time of year. I'd left it too late, and had to abandon my plan for the time being. Sure I could have booked on the internet when I first thought of it, but I hate the National Express website, which always tries my patience. As I'm in town so often, it's no problem to pop into the office and get a real ticket. Things are changing however.

On August 1st, the coach station closes for the redevelopment of Central Square and is relocating in Sophia Gardens, half the distance from home for me. There will doubtless be chaos for a while, as many buses, especially to the east side of town will have their terminuses relocated. A new service has been recently introduced linking the far west and far east of the city directly, and passing through the centre, though not run by Cardiff Bus but by another company NAT. The new service started in May this year, and is already proving popular, according to a bus driver I talked to. This must make a big difference to those who'd otherwise have to travel into the central area, wait and change buses.

The coming months of demolition and reconstruction of part of the city centre will be an opportunity for me to add to my photographic record of the redevelopment phase of 2006-2009. Already in the three months while I was away in Spain, the new office block to the west of Central Square grew from a four storey skeleton to a nine storey building, and the Admiral building, just behind the Saint David Shopping Centre finally opened and is now occupied by a couple of thousand staff. Interesting times indeed.

Return to Wales

Yesterday morning celebrated the Eucharist for the last time in the Church shop honouring St Mary Magdalen with half a dozen faithful workers. Then it was simply a matter of going back to the house for a day of tidying, cleaning, gathering in and packing my goods and chattels for the journey home. Being so extremely humid, it wasn't an occasion to venture much beyond the rubbish and re-cycling bins. Not since a visit to Jamaica in the 1980's have I experienced such a combination of humidity and high temperature. Some Spanish people are saying it's not been so bad in their lifetime. It's hard to get a good night's sleep, so again I was up an hour before sunrise, dripping with perspiration from hardly any effort at all.

My last duty before leaving Nerja was to meet a couple whose wedding blessing is being performed on Sunday by the incoming locum priest, as he won't arrive in time to brief them before the service. It meant that I had to brief them according to his emailed instructions. Within the confines of liturgical formality priests may indeed vary in the manner they are accustomed to perform the ritual. This is probably the first time I've had to rehearse and explain a service to a couple on behalf of someone else, and I was unusually nervous about it. It worked out fine, as both had been married before and didn't need the kind of explanations that first-timers, often nervous, ask for.

I returned for an early lunch and completed packing, but had trouble figuring how the strap binding together a rather full and heavy soft case was meant to work. I wrestled with it and continued to drip sweat, not yet dressed for the journey when the doorbell rang adding to my panic. It was Judith who'd come to collect me for the airport run. Only when I'd been safely deposited inside Terminal Three at Malaga AGP, half an hour earlier in case of congestion, was I able to sit down and deal with the strap. There was indeed a half an hour queue at check-in, but I passed quickly through security afterwards, with lots of time to spare, and could at last relax.

I sat next to an interesting and sociable man from the Valleys about my age on the 'plane, who'd been a miner and then an underground fire and rescue officer for half his life, until the pits closed. He and his wife often holidayed in Nerja and were very fond of the place, getting to know many of the locals over the years, despite language differences. We talked quite a lot about mining, something I haven't done for years, and was glad to do. His life after pit closures took him eventually to working with students in a hall of residence for Glamorgan University, making friends with people from all over the world. The flight passed very quickly, and soon we were crossing the Severn Estuary, following the Jurassic coastline into cool and cloudy Rhoose Airport

My case was third to arrive on the baggage conveyor, and this meant I was on the next shuttle bus into town without delay. I walked home from the bus station, tugging my case, as that was preferable to a wait of half an hour to catch any one of several buses going Pontcanna or Canton way. I didn't mind at all, as the ambient temperature was bearable, despite the lack of blue skies.

Clare's gardening efforts this year have produced a lovely colourful summer display

Our little apple tree with its two kinds of fruit has an amazing crop of red and green apples, thanks to our local urban bee population.

While I've been away, the small garden birds have rediscovered our modest votive offering of seed. Despite the promise of more cloud and rain, it's good to be home.

Stop surprise

I woke up early and had an unhurried breakfast, then headed for the bus station to get the Airport Shuttle bus, I was bewildered that I couldn't find out which platform the bus used. There was no obvious signage. I asked a group of bus drivers and was told that the bus no longer called at the bus station, but now picked up passengers at a stop on the south side of the train station in Penarth Road. 

I walked there immediately, but had to ask again, as there was no indication on the bus shelter on the station side of the road if this was the correct stop. I was directed to cross the road to the bus shelter opposite. This is the one we use to get the Bay Car bus on our way to the Millennium Centre. As I crossed the road, the Shuttle I was intending to catch arrived. Not only had the stop changed, but also the direction taken by the bus in making its way around the city centre. I have no idea of when this change was made, but the absence of obvious publicity is tantamount to sabotage of this excellent bus service, and shows contempt towards visitors and business travellers relying on it.

By ten, I'd checking in my case and passed through security, with two hours to relax before boarding. The flight was on time, but the doors stuck wide open on the transfer to terminal bus, so we had to wait five minutes for a replacement. Just as I reached the baggage reclaim conveyor, my case appeared so no time was lost. I'd forgotten that Judith would be waiting for me in the departure drop-off zone and I took a long way around to reach her, but we were soon on our way. By five we reached Nerja and I was at Church House unpacking and logging on. The house hasn't been lived in for a couple of months. There was a little food in the fridge and freezer, but no fresh fruit and veg, so the first thing I had to do was visit the nearest supermarket and stock up. Feeling the need for exercise I walked the kilometre there and back, an uphill and down dale route. I certainly got what I needed on the return leg with two heavy bags. It's good to be back in a familiar house and environment, with plenty of interest to look forward to in the coming months.

    

Remote control camera

I went to my dentist in Llandaff North yesterday morning, to have a crown fitted to a large back tooth. The filling it replaced was still intact after twenty-five years, but the edges of the tooth itself were getting ragged. The crown covers and protects perfectly although it feels somewhat strange, it's so smooth it feels like having an extra false tooth attached to my jaw.

I decided to wait for a bus to return home as one was conveniently scheduled to arrive within minutes of reaching the bus stop. Needless to stay, it didn't come. The timetable lied, so I had a twenty minute wait. I could have been half way home in that time. Former city centre colleague Alun Tudur, minister of Ebenezer Eglwys Annibynol in Charles Street accosted me at the bus stop, about to visit one of his deacons who lived in a house adjacent to the stop. I haven't seen him for at least a couple of years, since we bumped into each other ourtide the CBS office, which in those days was also in Charles Street. My how time flies.

It was raining today when I drove the car down to N G Motors in Splott for its annual service. I have previously walked or cycled back home or to the office from there, but it was too wet to enjoy the added exercise, so I caught a conveniently arriving eleven bus from Splott Road. This took me to Greyfriars, where I only had to cross the road to pick up one of the Stagecoach out of town buses, the 122, which goes to Tonypandy via Ponyclun via Cathedral Road, close to home. Most convenient.

I had no reason to go out again after my return. I had a briefing to write for office purposes which could be done from home. With time on my hands I decided to install and try out the Sony Playmemories app on my Samsung Galaxy Ace Duo, and on my Asus Transformer, to serve as remote control devices with my Sony HX50. I was impressed with how easy it was to set up and use on both. The large clear preview displayed on the Transformer screen is most helpful in acquiring a desirable photograph.  Now I have to think of situations in which it might be worth the effort to use it. 

I imagine it would be beneficial with the camera on a tripod. To avoid shake when pressing the shutter button on a tripod mounted camera, I have to set the shutter timer to allow the camera to settle from the touch impact of my finger. This remote control app allows for focussing and other adjustments, as well as shutter operation. You can see exactly what you're shooting and don't have to be in line of sight. This is good for shooting shy wildlife. All that remains now is to remember to pack a small tripod and the phone when I take a camera for a walk.
  

Boxing Day fever

Having a bad back prevented me from joining the daughters and grand-daughters on the Winter Wonderland ice rink this morning. I stayed behind to re-charge Rachel's phone so she would have it for later when she was out visiting friends, then walked into town to meet up with them all at the end of the session. There was no alternative. The bus stop information panels were operating but were non committal about the nature of the service on offer, just saying that buses were operating on major routes only, without defining what a major route is. The display advised people to look at the Cardiff Bus website. Oops too late - out of the house already. No wifi, dodgy 3G signal, or else no phone/tablet or laptop to hand for a significant number of erstwhile bus travellers. More thought about functional communication on non routine travel days wouldn't go amiss.

We made a foray into the city centre, crowded with shoppers, even though the main attraction, John Lewis' store, was still shut. We had coffee and a bite to eat in M&S instead, sitting in the balcony extension to their first floor restaurant, with blue skies overhead and sun shining during a break in an otherwise rainy day. We then parted in order to head for different shopping destinations. Clare and I wandered aimlessly for a while then returned home. Window shopping in such busy crowds isn't much of a pleasure.

Festive preparations on the shortest day

With the end of term behind them, Kath, Anto and Rhiannon arrived yesterday afternoon, with Anto going straight off to a sound check for this evening's 'Third Uncles' gig at Chapter. I had the pleasure of looking after Rhiannon while the others went to the gig. She drew pictures of the Nativity and a couple of angels and we discussed them as she worked. Earlier she'd put out the family Nativity set in its usual place on the kitchen window sill. It's made of small pottery figures which her mum and her friend Emily had fashioned when they were in primary school over thirty years ago.

Rhiannon, just like Jasmine, has brought her own Advent calendar with her, to add to the one I brought back from Spain. When both children are here we'll have three to display, somehow. The blue LED lights on top of the stable came home with Rachel last night, acquired from the club where she was visiting Owain during his first gig of the weekend. They'd been part of some exotic party balloons which had been popped, leaving the lights in the detritus on the floor.

I heard William Dalrymple speak superbly in the BBC Radio Four 'Point of View' slot last night about the heritage which Islam and Christianity share in reverence for stories about the birth of Jesus. It was a great interfaith Christmas sermon. In passing, he mentioned the eastern tradition of wisdom sayings about or attributed to Jesus, known among Asians of different religious faiths which aren't obviously derived from the Bible or the Qu'ran, but have a life of their own through oral tradition. Whether or not they represent an obscure strand of teaching that has survived two millennia of oral transmission outside scripture is a curiosity compared to the thought that people of different faiths value such sayings and identify them with the word and works of Jesus, regardless of  their origin. There's no getting away from the fact that his influence persists and touches the whole world in surprising ways.

This morning, I dismantled the ancient crumbling now redundant garden shed and took the remains to the tip. While doing this I pinched a nerve in my back, and will have to cope with the consequences through the next few days.

The Christmas tree came in from the cold. It's the one we dug up out of an allotment patch on Llandaff Fields for a tenner two years ago. It hasn't fared so well in its tub in the alley outside and is a bit thin on needles. As we were away last December, it stayed outdoors, forsaken and neglected. We thought we'd let it see another Christmas, rather than throw it away, as it's still alive. So it looks rather minimalist, but quite effective with lights and candles, thanks to Rhiannon's decorative skills.

We all walked into town together this afternoon and ended up having tea in John Lewis'. We came home on a smart new 61 bus, one of several replacement single deckers making their appearance this week. Our driver said he was none too impressed. I imagine that's how he would feel in the first few weeks, as getting used to driving a new vehicle to the point where it becomes second nature is a bit like getting used to a new pair of shoes. It takes a while before you stop noticing there's a difference.

A feast of public transport

How splendid to awaken to sunshine and the prospect of an outing with my sister June! By mid morning, armed with our cameras, we took the train to Victoria, then the bus to Westminster to descend into the cavernous depths of the Tube station opposite the Houses of Parliament for a ride on the Jubilee line out to Canary Wharf. June was here a good while ago before the docklands redevelopment was complete, so much of it was new to her, as it all was to me. We strolled through quiet avenues and photographed vast canyons of tall buildings glittering in the sunshine, with man made tributaries of the river Thames as the setting for many.

This new aspect of London, except where you can catch glimpses of the old heart of the City of London on the horizon to the north of the  London to the on the horizon, looks no different from dozens of other twentieth century city-scapes around the world. Descend into the shopping mall, and the retail mix of stores, whether selling consumer chain fashions or luxury goods greeting, conveys no particular sense of place. You could be anywhere in Britain or Europe for that matter. It's all beautifully clean, safe and well run by polite and cheery people, but lacks unique identity, it lacks soul. Eighteen century writer Samuel Johnson said that those who tire of London are tired of life. Despite its amazing architecture and great facilities I can't help of thinking of Canary Wharf as a place to go when you're tired of London. Anyway, my photos are visible here.

The next stage of our outing was a ride on the excellent Docklands Light Railway out to Greenwich for a brief visit to the Cutty Sark.

We then took the DLR to cross the Thames, and join the Tube line at the Tower of London for the return leg to Victoria, and from thence home to Wandsworth Common by train for a mid- afternoon lunch. Catching the five to five train back to Victoria, I was in good time for the five thirty coach back to Cardiff. I'm just amazed at how much travel around can be achieved with ease in just a few hours, with a day ticket costing only eight quid. People complain that fares have gone up, but when it's possible, with local knowledge and planning to do so much in a short time, the day ticket is really good value. After a clear run out of the capital, the coach arrived ten minutes early. Altogether this day out was a true celebration of one of the world's best public transport systems. 

Back on the ground in Cardiff, however, there was a twenty minutes wait for the first of the four buses that would take me back to Pontcanna from the bus terminus. It was just as quick to walk. After so much time seated, I needed the exercise to clear the brain and get a sermon ready for tomorrow.

     

Route 61 - the other direction

This week I have to take two funerals. For one, I was able to make preparations over the phone with the next of kin, for the other, it was necessary to visit the family at home out in Pentrebane, close to the end of the 61 bus route from town. It gave me an opportunity to ride in the opposite direction for the first time, and this took me into a Parish on the Western edge of Cardiff I'm unfamiliar with. 

Walking the last quarter mile from the bus stop was a bitterly cold experience. I was glad of a cup of tea when I arrived at the house. An hour later I was on my way back, although this time, looking for another bus, a 62  or 102 that would take me back via Llandaff, as I wanted to go into College. This time, a ten minute wait for a 102 at the end of my walk, so I was grateful the bus was well heated.

After lunch in College I attended the monthly strategy meeting of the admin and teaching staff for the first time. I came away with a vivid impression of just how complex College life is to organise, with residential and non residential courses, Chaplaincy Studies courses, in-service ministry training events and conferences - this week the College was welcoming a residential meeting of the National Society (religious education in schools) for two days. The College admin team isn't very big, but it sure is efficient!

After the meeting another bus trip into town for a couple of hours at the CBS office, before supper and a quiet evening at home away from the chilly outdoors.