False Alarm

Another night of broken sleep, and not enough of it, but at least the couch was more comfortable. After breakfast we packed our bags and stripped the beds. We were more or less ready to leave by nine thirty when there was a fire alarm test, like one we had last week, only this time the alarm didn't stop, and it was painfully loud. Fortunately we could remove our belongings from the apartment and leave as intended for the walk to the station. I had to walk around as much as possible with fingers in both ears, as the alarm was located in the corridor a metre above us and I didn't want to rupture an ear drum. Another loud alarm was ringing outside as well. Apartment residents gathered in the courtyard and waited. There was no sign of fire in the property. We had to leave and there was no indication that there would be any head count, but I rang Ann and left her a message to tell her what happened in case she had a call from someone asking for an account of the occupants of each apartment. After ten minute or so, a fire engine arrived, and we were told, as we were leaving that it had been a 'false alarm', presumably a fault in the alarm network revealed something wasn't working as intended.

Clare called for a taxi but found that none were available, so we walked to Tenby station - downhill most of the way thankfully. We had to walk over a footbridge to reach the eastbound platform, not easy with a heavy suitcase, then waited half an hour for a train. The weather was good and the view of the coast was equally lovely on the return trip. We had a picnic lunch and I was able to relax and unwind. Throughout the return journey I noticed many lighter shades of green in the variations of passing landscape. What a joy to behold!

After my conversation yesterday with Ann about connection timing, I timed the walk from getting off the train on platform zero to the ticket barrier accessing platform 1. Five minutes with a crowd of passengers, all needing to use the same lift. I'm sure there used to be stairs here. According to Google Maps this transit takes one minute. From ticket gate to platform 1, add another 2-3 minutes. Heaven help anyone with mobility issues or a pushchair for kiddies to manage. I must report this, as it seriously affects people expecting to use an eastbound fast connecting train. We took a taxi home and arrived at three.

Before unpacking, I went to the GP surgery to deliver A&E discharge documents ordering a blood test. Coincidentally a GP letter arrived in the morning mail asking me to book an appointment for a a blood test and blood pressure test. There was also a follow up letter about an appointment to fit me with a blood pressure measuring device for a week in the same batch of mail. I anticipate the outcome will be that I'll be prescribed another blood pressure reducing medication, adding to the misery I experienced previously. What I would most benefit from most would be a quieter less stressful life with fewer disruptions and distractions with more time to sort out my life. The past couple of weeks have exhausted me.

After a supper of savoury rice with salmon, I walked for half an hour in Llandaff Fields. The trees' leaf canopy is noticeably denser after two weeks away. Little light gets through the branches, and the trees appear a darker green. 

Breaking routine and getting to bed in the attic required a bit more organising than usual. Although we all retired at ten, I gave way to the others and was last. It took me an hour to organise myself, as I'd not yet unpacked my case. I hope I can settle in an unfamiliar room which I've not slept in since before the stroke.

Generational change

This morning, after my wound clinic visit, I walked to the nearby offices of Stone and Ham funeral directors to meet a bereaved family and discuss the service I'm to take on Monday next for a ninety year old local lady who was the mother of eight children, sixteen grandchildren and ten great grandchildren. It's interesting to consider the contrast between her and another nonagenarian widow whose funeral I have this week, with just two children and two grandchildren, who started a working life in the family firm at the end of World War two. 

Theirs was a generation when women still had a choice of making a life as home makers and having a large family, or having a family and seeking work only after the essential child rearing years are over. Today it seems to be an economic necessity for husband and wife to work and fit having and raising children into work oriented lives, supported by parents and daytime care. The question of whether this works satisfactorily and is beneficial in terms of health and well being in the long term is to my mind an open question which may take generations to answer. Was there ever such a time when so many people suffer burnout, work related stress or mental health concerns? So many people today are under so much pressure to be productive on several fronts, it takes its toll.

Late afternoon, when the rain had cleared up, I went into town to take photos of the demolition of St David's House, and of the newly restored clock tower of the railway station. Recently, I read a news article about this, pointing out a modest new feature on the facade overlooking Central Square. It's a tiny 'Draig Goch', our Welsh national symbol, fashioned from lead left over from weather cladding the tower with traditional lead. It's tiny, but no doubt generations of telephoto lenses will pick it out, as a special feature of our new public open space, as mine did.

Back to Montreux - yet again

Free at last to get on with packing, I had all of Wednesday and half of Thursday, to prepare and pack for my six week stint in Montreux, where it promises to be as hot, even hotter than Cardiff for several weeks to come. It's rare that I don't bother to think about packing a pullover - just in case! As ever I exercised myself over which cameras to take, and ended up eliminating my Alpha 68 and its lenses on the grounds of weight in my rucksack cabin bag. On the outbound journey, it would be necessary to carry a cool bag and a couple of freezer packs to keep the tubes of ointment prescribed by Lt Col Davies at fridge temperature, and this couldn't go in my hold baggage just in case it got lost in transit. The worry I had was about getting the cold package through security. It the event it turned out not to be a problem as the screening staff were very understanding.

Clare drove me to the station for the two o'clock train to Bristol, which was on time. However before it arrived, an announcement was made about the next train to arrive at platform two, which was for Manchester. If the Bristol train had been announced it was before I got on to the platform and before it came in. Most confusing. There's evidently no co-ordination between the team which manages the platform and the announcement broadcast. To compound the error, when the correct train arrived, in its shine new bright GWR green livery, it had no destination panel that I could see, or at least if it had one, it wasn't lit up. There wasn't even a quick printed out notice affixed to the train windscreen or side windows. It could have been going anywhere. How dumb is this!

Anyway I arrived at the airport in good time, and quickly checked in with the new automatic check in system working well. There were long summer queues passing through security clearance at fair pace, so within a quarter of an hour of getting off the buss, I was in the departure lounge. No long after, the phone's EasyJet app issued the first of two flight delay notifications. French air traffic controllers are at it again, unfortunately, holding Europe, not just France to ransom. In the end our flight was an hour delayed, which meant that my train from Geneva to Montreux got in at half past midnight.  

By the time I had something to eat and unpacked, it was two in the morning, and too hot to lie under covers, though not unpleasant. It was nearly ten by the time I surfaced for breakfast. Before lunch I walked to the shops in town to buy additional veggies and a few other food supplies to get start me off domestically speaking. Later in the afternoon I had a visit from the mother of the infant I am due to baptise tomorrow afternoon, to check out certain elements of the service. Her husband's parents and two brothers are driving from Italy where they've been on holiday, to attend the service. Her  family live in Lausanne. He's Swedish and she's Belgium, and all are fluent English speakers. The couple were married several years ago in St John's, so it's a pleasure to welcome them back.

Walking along the flower bedecked promenade this afternoon was such a delight, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. This is my third visit in just a twelvemonth, to a region where I still feel very much at home and alive in spirit. I'm so grateful for the blessing of having so much pleasure in the performance of ministry duties in my old age.