Easter Vigil surprise

How cheering to wake up to bright sunshine and a clear sky, feeling bright and clear after a good night's rest, despite getting to sleep later than intended. After chatting to Rachel before going to bed, I wrote her a long message which could have waited until morning after getting into bed. Serves me right when I know how important is the first hour of rest to sleep quality.

Clare made pancakes for our Saturday breakfast, with the delicious extra of last year's blackberry jelly. She stewed some blueberries as well. The difference in taste between the two dark blue juicy fruits was notable, with the blueberries not possessing the subtle underlying 'woody' flavour of the blackberry.

A letter arrived from the City Council announcing the imposition of parking permits in this street and the neighbouring ones. We'll need a  'guest'  one for occasional visitors. Kath and Anto are the only car owners in the immediate family. We are now car-less. It's not good news for Clare's study group guests. It's £35 a year or £90 for a second permit. 

Will this improve the frequency and reliability of buses? Or prevent trafic congestion? Some households rely on a second car to earn enough to pay the morgage on their over inflated house prices. So relieved I no longer drive as the cost of using and owning a car increases. On a pension that would be another drain on resources.

Iran has shot down two American planes. Not all members of their air crew have been rescued yet. On top of this, two search and rescue helicopters have been shot down as well. It's likely to provoke questions from Trump supporters, and make it tougher for him to continue justifying the war to his right wing populist base, after claiming 'control of the skies', and that the war was 'nearly over.' 

His forty eight hour deadline for Iran to reopen the Straight of Hormuz is about to run out. What will happen to his threat to destroy Iran's energy infrastructure if they don't comply remains to be seen. Iran's air defences are not as degraded as Trump alleges. Dare he risk ordering the use of B52 heavy bombers if there's no certainty that fighter support can operate safely? Not only would further losses be very expensive, they would further demonstrate the foolishness of his rhetoric and his decisions.

Israel continues in its effort to conquer Hezbollah, with South Lebanon and the Bekaa Valley infrastructure and population suffering what is tantamount to war crime. Iran and the Houthis rain down missiles and drones on Israel. It won't do much to improve Netanyahu's political support.

By mid morning the sky clouded over again and the wind from the north west remained cold. I stayed indoors, recorded and edited audio for the daily office and reflection in two weeks time, rather than going out for a walk. I didn't go for a circuit of Llandaff Fields until after a lunch of prawns and veg with rice.

The decision about where to attend the Easter Vigil service occupied me for a while, with services set to start in the dark at seven thirty or eight and lasting up to two hours. I would have preferred St German's but with half to three quarters travel time there and back, it was out of the question. Likewise, going to the Cathedral and back, thirty five minutes walk each way. The Ministry Area service at St David's Caerau at eight, with buses up and down Cowbridge Road East promised to be the least demanding on my energy.

Wind and rain on the way there and back was demanding enough. We were forty adults plus children. A congregation of familiar people from Ministry Area churches in which I have taken services from time to time, plus several new Asian Christian families that have made their home in the area.

When I was welcomed at the door, I was asked if I'd read a lesson and said 'Yes' without thinking. Other than when I said Wednesday's Mass over two months ago, I haven't  been asked to read at a service for over a year. First I had to read through the text several times. It was in an unfamiliar translation with a few contentious turns of phrase to get used to. I had to read by candle light, but despite visual impairment, so  often a problem in low light, I read with confidence and vigour, just one little stumble when my memory tried to override direct text to speech! I felt greatly blessed to read Paul on the mystery of the Resurrection in the light of my recovery journey and without nervousness. I just had to laugh, being teased by the Spirit, landing me in a familiar exposed role, sustaining my confidence and concentration. A real gift!

The service ended at twenty to ten. I felt too tired to stay for the festivity that followed, and returned home by bus and walking home from the old Canton Police station stop. I got in at ten past ten, and went straight to bed, grateful that I was able to participate in and contribute to the proclamation of Christ's resurrection one more time.

Images from the eighties

The welcome return of a cheerful sunny start to the day albeit with some cloud. Late last night I had a cheering message from Basma telling me that the Council has assigned her a single person's temporary housing unit in Grangetown after a month in emergency placement in the Tongwynlais Holiday Inn. In a short while, she'll be able to cook for herself and follow properly her required medical diet in a her own safe space. It's near bus routes to take her to town and her beloved St German's once more. Well done Cardiff Council for dealing decisively with a vulnerable person! This will certainly help her to get on with making a new life for herself and contributing to society here in the way she is eager to do.

Although I woke up just after seven and started listening to the news, I dozed off again after Thought for the Day, and it was nine by the time I finally got up. I must need the extra sleep. Getting myself to bed earlier would make a difference, but I'm just not well disciplined about that. Clare was getting ready to go to her study group, so I made my own breakfast and got on with my daily routine tasks, then finished and uploaded next week's Morning Prayer video.

Israel has launched 1,600 targeted air strikes against Hezbollah military sites yesterday with nearly five hundred people dead, among them women and children, and 1,645 injured. There have been retaliatory missiles fired into Israel, but in comparison minimal casualties. For the moment Gaza is no longer the centre of aggression, and hopes of a ceasefire and release of hostages suspended indefinitely. The reason given for scaled up aggression from the forces of Hezbollah and Yemeni Houthis to start with is to put pressure on Israel to implement a ceasefire deal. 

The Netanyahu government pays no heed to this, but is trying to force the aggression to a halt. Despite mass protests in Israel by citizens calling for a deal, a policy is being pursued of utter destruction, a final solution to deal with its adversaries. If they persist in this, it seems likely to me that if there are still hostages surviving, a stage will come at which keeping them alive no longer serving its purpose to their captors, so they'll be killed in a final act of retaliation. Fear persists of all-out war in the Middle East, and will, as long as both sides keep believing there's no alternative to salvation by violence. 

I cooked a mildly spicy chick pea dish for lunch, and it was ready when Clare arrived home. She had another follow-up eye appointment at three, and I decided to wait for her rather than going home to wait for her summons. As a result, I spent two hours in the corridor outside the clinic people watching. It was interesting, so I didn't get bored. After we got home and had a cup of tea and bara brith, I walked for an hour, then returned for supper and went out again in the dark to complete my daily step quota. I returned with an idea for another Haikus forming in my mind, and wrote it down.

Bike lights in the night / dazzle dog walkers in the park / hounds bewildered bark.

I spent the rest of the evening scanning photo negatives again. A pack of late 1980's pictures of Nick and Sue's wedding, plus the wedding of Axel and Maggie, and a small number from a camping holiday by Lake Annecy. Lovely to to see photos of the children and Clare, and ones of older generation relatives now dead. And now here we are, elders with only my sister June above us on the family tree.

DIY street cleaning

After breakfast, I went out with sweeping brush and spade to clear some of the accumulated leaves, twigs and soil clogging up the gutters and making the drop kerb at the end of the street filthy and treacherous for pedestrians and wheelchair users. There's been a message about this on our local WhatsApp neighbours group recently. 

The city Council, short of resources, is encouraging people to clear the gutters near their homes and leave the detritus in piles where it can easily be collected by a lorry. The road sweeping machines are not much use at clearing streets when they are full of parked cars most of the time. I worked for an hour or so on the worst side of the street and left the other side to the promises of others. It was vigorous exercise. I expect to be stiff and aching tomorrow as a result.

I received a letter in the mail from the Church of England Pensions Board, notifying me of their switch to digital communications entirely from next year. No more paper documents, not even the annual P60 for tax purposes. Now I have to open yet another on-line account to access all information about my pension, although I believe it is possible to plead for an exception. I happen to be digitally literate, but what about all those older people who aren't? My knowledge of the digital world leads me to believe that it's utterly foolish to place total trust in electronic communication, especially when it comes to one's personal finances. There's no system that's not hackable, no system that doesn't break down, and many systems that make fools of users by forcing changes people can't understand and in language that makes not sense to them. There may be trouble ahead ....

We went to St Catherine's Christmas Fayre after lunch, looked around and chatted with people. I bought a paperback of a Patricia Cornwell novel I'd not seen before, although it's been out for some time. I started to read it after supper and continued reading until very late. It's a long time since I could read for so long without getting tired eyes. An unexpected bonus of last month's cataract op! 

Bute Park lock-down

When Clare left for her study group, I went out, charged with finding some red candles for our Advent table wreath. I couldn't find anything suitable in the Cowbridge Road shops, but on the way back called into Beti Biggs, a small boutique, on Romilly Crescent, not far from home and found exactly what I had been looking for. It's not a shop I've ever been in before, specialising in small gifts and things and glitter at this time of year. I though it might have closed for goof during lock-down but it bounced back, which is encouraging to hear.

I cooked lunch in time for Clare's return, then went into town to buy Christmas cards for sending with our annual newsletter, which I have yet to write. Bute Park, apart from the east west cycle route is closed to pedestrians and cyclists, as the arboretum zone is being used for the illuminated night walk - pay to enter. This will not be a popular move though it's within the Council's rights to allow this disruption, as it's not public realm in the sense that streets are. It forces a change to people's everyday routines however, obliging many to walk further than they can or wish to. We wait to see if this initiative covers the cost outlay, and if not, who picks up the bill.

Winter Wonderland in front of the Museum and City Hall is now a fun fair including a ski slope, and is extended to Castle grounds, given over to a skating rink under a large tented canopy, with an open air extension in the form of a circular piste. In the middle of the enclosure are the four light sculptures of reindeer which in previous years were installed on the grass in the castle moat. All the refreshment stalls are inside the Castle walls now and there are just the usual coloured table benches. I guess outdoor drinkers from the hostelries on the other side of Castle Street can sit there, if they are willing to take their lives into their hands crossing the way where two way traffic reigns once more. I think this Winter Womderland was set up like this last year, but covid restrictions prevented it coming into use. 

In the evening I watched another episode of 'Crossing Borders' on My5 catch-up. It's another euro-crimmie showcasing an elite international team of detectives working on cross border crimes. It's rather idealised, in representing people with different policing cultures, jurisdiction hopping without upsetting the status quo, but the bad thing about it is that the key actors all speak English. The difference between their mother tongues has almost no impact on their accents. There's hardly foreign language speech, so it's subtitle free, and hardly any misunderstandings. A low budget series evidently.

Under the cloud at Ascension

Ascension Day, with the whole region under a layer of cloud, rather than under blue sky and sunshine, as is hoped for in mid-May. I did my daily reflection upload to WhatsApp on waking, then walked to Saint John's to celebrate the Eucharist. Fifteen of us were present, the most since Thursday services resumed last month. I wonder when Sunday services will resume?

On my way to church I noticed a vehicle queuing at the Canton Cross lights with a camera mounted on a telescopic pole, in hi-viz livery. At first sight I thought it was a Google Street View camera car. Closer inspection revealed it was a Cardiff Council traffic enforcement vehicle. I think it may be patrolling to identify vehicles which are parked where they shouldn't be. Number plate recognition would identify the vehicle for the issue of penalty notices. Traffic wardens could then be directed to the vehicle to place the penalty notice under the windscreen wiper - this still happens locally. 

What interests me is whether this technology is used in relation to the huge delivery vehicles which so often block through roads, if not park on pavements obstructing pedestrians. They may only be parked for a few minutes, but this can still generate congestion, and put walkers at risk. Using large delivery vehicles creates economies of scale in moving goods around, but who is costing the congestion and pollution that results. A radical overhaul is needed to the way our economic infrastructure works in our crowded cities.   

Clare was in kindergarten again this morning, by the skin of her teeth. The bus she takes to get there was unable to ge through, due to congestion caused by a traffic accident. Waiting at the stop with her was a doctor going to work at a hospital on the bus route, with a scheduled appointment ahead of him. In the end he called for a taxi, and gave Clare a lift to school, so she got there just in time.

New housing developments north west of Cardiff are already leading to increase traffic flow into the city through Llandaff. Now things are getting back to normal, people are moving around more normally and with the change to traffic flowing through the centre, there's additional congestion at junctions a mile or so out of town. The impact on local traffic is noticeable already and it's several years before the those new suburbs will be populated. It's hard to see how public transport networks will adapt to compensate. 

At the moment covid precautions are limiting the number of bus and train passengers that can be taken or want to travel. I suspect it's going to get worse. At certain times of day already, pollution from traffic is much more noticeable after a year of limited travel leaving the air a lot fresher. It makes you realise what we got used to living with, and it's no good for anyone's health.

I had lunch ready as Clare arrived home. Afterwards, I sat down to relax and fell asleep. When I woke up and thought about going for a walk, it was raining, and kept on raining into the evening, so I had to wear my rain-gear. It amazes me to see several football games in such wet and slippery conditons. I guess players are so glad to resume, that rain is no deterrent to them.

I watched one of the earliest episodes of the first season of NCIS after supper. Interesting to see how the various permanent characters presented themselves, compared to now, eighteen years on. What got my attention even more was the kind of technology in use then, as compared to now - clamshell mobile phones, PDAs (remember them?), CRT monitors with webcams perched on top of them etc. Two decades of technical development portrayed in a crime based soap opera!

Congestion miscalculation

I went to bed far too late last night and woke up having lost at least an hour's sleep. These days I find that I don;t get along so well on less than eight hours a night.

The bright sunny blue sky weather continues, but it's deceptive. I went out without a top coat and hat to walk down to St John and celebrate the Eucharist this morning, and felt the impact of a chilling breeze. The loss of sleep affected me as well. At the beginning of the service I twice reverted to the modern language rite instead of the traditional one mid-sentence! I had to re-start the Gloria, as people were rather confused, but thereafter I was OK. The funny experience gave me a pretext to talk about how the Word is communicated despite language confusion and even through faltering broken speech, thanks to the Spirit speaking heart to heart, whatever else is going on.  

Again we were thirteen people. We would have been fourteen, but one lady came, and as she was getting water to freshen up the flowers, she dropped her hearing aid into the sink, and was compelled to return home and dry it out immediately, hoping that it wasn't by damaged by the inundation. She has difficulty hearing, even with a hearing aid. It's one of the trials of old age which so far I have been spared, except for the occasional miserable wax blockage. 

With Clare in school this morning, I cooked lunch on returning home, and then had an hour and a half of a siesta which perked me up, ready for my walk in the park. Opposite the riding centre stables is a very rich area of well cared for mature allotments. It hosts many different garden bird species, more than any other part of the green zone at the heart of the city. It's a real treat to stand under the trees by the hedgerow and listen to chaffinches, wrens, robins, blackbirds, thrushes, starlings plus other birds singing I still cannot identify. I made me appreciate just how fortunate I am still to enjoy good hearing. I had a few good lucky bird photos too. This one was the best: a missel thrush, I think.

Having had a moan about traffic congestion caused by Castle Street restrictions yesterday, I was pleased to see an article on just this subject posted on this morning's Wales Online website. I must get busy and write to Caro Wild our local ward councillor who has been involved in road management changes this past year. While the objective is to reduce pollution in city centre hot-spots the solutions tried so far simply lead to the distribution of congestion and queues to other inner city zones, with longer journeys and delays leading to more pollution distributed more widely but a general increase in the carbon foot of city traffic associated with slow moving traffic.

With preparations for tomorrow's funeral complete after supper, I decided to go to bed really early, relax and watch a couple of episodes of 'Non Uccidere', in an effort to catch up of missed sleep. Hopefully I'll be on better form tomorrow, when we're having our second covid jabs just after ten. It's terrible to see the rate of virus spread in India at the moment a third of a million a day in the absence of universal lock-down (maybe impossible to enforce anyway) plus the continuation of mass gatherings for pilgrimage rituals and political rallies. Inadequate reporting of fatalities in some impoverished regions may mean that the true scale of covid deaths may never be known. 

Mass religious gatherings would be hard to stop anyway, as pious people are often stubborn with it, but political rallies could simply be cancelled by the prime minister. It's hard to fathom such foolishness, and we've seen so much of this in the past year. So many avoidable deaths ultimately due to egotistical populist leadership.

Parks and parking

A cloudy day without rain with a mild wind to dry out the sodden soil. We need more days like this given the broadening mud slicks alongside all the park footpaths. With so many people out and about every day, socialising without socialising strolling along and hogging the path, overtaking walkers and cyclists drives more and more people on to the grass. Heaven knows how the park management teams are going to repair and restore the greensward to its usual healthy condition. 

The task of keeping the park rubbish free has become a seven day week job, as rubbish bins fill very quickly to overflowing with takeaway cups, pizza boxes, sandwich wrappers and plastic bottles. If a day is missed, the place looks terrible, and more rubbish gets dropped than when it looks clean and tidy. No doubt we'll pay for this with Council Tax rate increases eventually, but such excellent civic amenities as we enjoy are worth paying for.

Talking about the Council - a consultation document dropped through our letterbox this afternoon relating to traffic management and parking locally. A bus lane is proposed for Penhill Road, robbing one side of the road of car parking bays, displacing vehicles into overnight parking down by Cafe Castan. It looks as if we won't be able to avoid a residents' car parking permit scheme for the whole of neighbourhood. There are already too many cars competing for too little space on the street, too many two car households. Will each household be restricted to one permit only? I love our little car, but have thought a lot recently about giving it up, as we used it so little, regardless of lock-downs, we'd be better off hiring for occasional travel needs that can't be met by public transport.

At lunchtime I had a call postponing the telephone consultation I was due to have with a pharmacology expert at Llandough who is said to be off sick. Well I've waited four months for this, and am not dead while waiting. Meanwhile, I'll just keep experimenting with the doxazosin dosage to see if I can minimise the side effects and get my blood pressure nearer to normal.

Now that schools are open again to the youngest children, Clare has decided to resume her regular Thursday visit to the Steiner kindergarten to do eurythmy with the little ones, so she's spent quite a lot of time on the phone discussing and planning this today. It means a lot to her, but she's confident that staff are going to be working with high safety standards, and infection risk is far lower with the under sevens in any case. 

An article I read this morning about kids returning to school stated that 12-14 year olds are the most likely to catch covid and transmit it. It also stated that a much under estimated preventative measure is classroom ventilation, leaving windows open and wrapping up warm. Or, classes outdoors. It's something new to get used to, and not easy for generations raised in centrally heated houses and schools whose standard of clothing is geared to 22-24 degrees indoors, rather than 18. 

Litter picking resumed

More sunshine, clouds and showers today. We were promised strong winds today and the speed at which the clouds moved easterly was just a hint of what was to come from mid morning until early evening. It wasn't just a persistent strong wind, but gusts of fifty miles an hour or more, lasting for a few minutes and then fading away, all quite unpredictable and challenging to stay upright walking to the shops when Clare and I went out together.

We went to the medical appliance shop on Cowbridge Road East and bought a thick wedge type cushion to use on chairs whose seat angle promotes wound discomfort even when using my existing ring cushion. The combination of the two proves an instant success, which means I can sit and write for much longer without discomfort or damage. 

A also bought one of those 'Reach/Grabber' devices - a pincer on a long arm that enables the user to get things down from a high shelf or pick things up off the floor. In reality I have no need to use it for either of these reasons. I bought it to use when out in the park for hygienic litter picking. I've not done any since I returned from Ibiza, and some days litter discarded hundreds of metres from the nearest bin the previous evening spoils my walk. The evidence of lazy greedy consumer selfishness tempts me to resent and hate not love my neighbour. 

It's only a small minority of park users, and it's just about balanced by the number of park lovers who pick up litter - elderlies, parents teaching their young to care about the environment and help to maintain it for the benefit of others. The Council has risen to the challenge of increasing bin emptying to match increased public use of the parks. There's even a worker called Richard who patrols early, spot collecting before the rubbish collection lorry arrives, but volunteers also contribute to the perpetual park clean up, although less so to keeping the streets free of litter. They often look neglected for weeks at a time. 

I notice where bottles and cans get dumped - in gutters, on garden walls, street side window sills, telecoms junction cabinets, even within sight of a bin. The use of street sweeping machines is never enough to do the job properly, and accompanying workers find it hard to keep up because of the mess generated and left when gulls break open bin bags and scatter the contents when searching for food.

I took my Grabber with me for my walk in the park at the end of the afternoon. I was surprised at how clear of litter it was. Others have been at work cleaning up in the past few days and there have been far fewer people socialising outdoors due to the rain and wind. One can, three plastic bottles and a glass one in a spot where it lay unnoticed where it had been discarded over the weekend. Because of the high wind I also collected several plastic shopping bags which had been blown and got caught in bushes or fences. One of them contained discarded paper and plastic. Perhaps a fellow collector had lost their grip on a bag which blew away in the wind? It easily happens if they inflate. 

Young saplings recently planted in the park either snapped in the trunk or had their support stay wrenched from the ground, more or less ensuring eventual shearing off. Some of the big trees lost branches too, and a lot of smaller branches littered the grass, travelling a distance buffeted like tumbleweed before the wind.

I had a GP phone call in the afternoon. It seems that my blood count is returning to normal. I have been prescribed a slightly lower dosage of Doxazosin to see if that mitigates the side effects and still helps to reduce and stabilise my blood pressure. I have started using an ear wax dissolving solution as hearing with my right ear is particularly poor, and I think I've been having inner ear problems as well, which seem to amplify, if that's the right word, the medication side effects. The effect or starting to use it is that my ear is even more blocked tonight with the dissolving fluid. Hopefully it will pass as the stuff does its job.

Return of the organ

Still no break in the overcast weather we've been experiencing since Thursday, but it was heartening this morning at St Catherine's Parish Eucharist to have live organ music again, although no singing due to the health restrictions imposed. Again there were twenty eight of us worshipping together, steady summer numbers. When school holidays are over, will the numbers pick up again without Sunday school being open? If it's to happen safely it will require extra safety measures which  and it may not be practicable straight away. 

I confess I'm relieved not to have any parochial pastoral responsibilities and no locum duty services to undertake at the moment. My time in Ibiza seems to have drained me of seal and desire to be useful in God's service, just grateful to be just on the receiving end for a change. Uncertainty about my state of health and feeling less well than I'm used to is a major factor. Tomorrow I'll be chasing my GP to find out what the blood tests taken nine days age have revealed.

After lunch and a siesta, we walked up to Llandaff Cathedral and enjoyed sitting quietly together in the nave before returning, dampened by light rain, which started unexpectedly not long after we left the house. The children's playground in Llandaff Fields finally re-opened re-opened yesterday. The chains have been removed from the gates. There's a new notice attached to the fence stating how many children are allowed to use the facility at any time, eighteen apparently, and another with the usual list of covid-19 precautions applied to playgrounds. 

Since the end of lock-down, children have been climbing the fence to play, if not lifted over it by some parents, while others shun and explain to their kids the reason why. As far as I can recall, no modifications have been made to playground apparatus during the long wait. Admittedly there are hundreds of play parks around the city, but what took them so long to unlock such a popular venue?

In the evening we watched a re-make of the crime thriller 'The Lady Vanishes', originally made famous in Hitchcock's 1938 movie. I was disappointed that this wasn't a showing of the original classic version.

Too many mixed messages

A sunny Saturday, with pancakes for breakfast as usual. I went for a short mid morning walk, as exercise and fresh air alleviate the unpleasant sensations, associated with  high blood pressure. Increasing the Doxazin dosage seems to have made no noticeable difference so far.

After lunch we walked over to Diana and Pete's house for a socially distanced up of tea on the lawn in their small garden abundant with flowers. We took our own cups and teabags and Pete supplied the hot water. We shared thoughts about the impact of lock-down on us a our great age, and the challenge of re-emerging into society again when so few people wear marks and observe social distancing rules. 

I received revisions to the eulogy I'd written for Paul's funeral, and finalised Monday's service text. I'll have to be sure when I print it off to print it in landscape mode. I recall, the last time I was at Gwent crem having an A5 service leaflet plus an A4 printout of the eulogy. As the ministers lectern is only large enough for an A5 booklet, I had to be careful juggling between it and the A4 sheet. Indeed, I did end up dropping it after reading, and had to retrieve it during a hymn, less undignified than waiting to pick it up, as I steppe down into the concluding silence. It's so important to minimize the amount of distracting movement at an intense moment like that.  

The government has again swiftly changed the restrictions on public gatherings, in the face of gradually rising infection numbers. It's frightful that there's been such confusing information to the point that people disregard and abandon sensible precaution. The highly popular children's play park on Llandaff Fields has remained locked, even though dozens of others across the city have re-opened following health and safety modifications. This hasn't stopped bigger children from climbing over the fence, and in passive I've even seen parents picking up smaller ones and depositing them the other side, to go an play with their friends. There are no park rangers or police to remind people there's a public health reason for keeping it locked, nor a stated reason for keeping unmodified playgrounds closed. 

I decided to go to bed early, rather than watch the second episode of French drama series 'La Vague' on BBC Four Tonight. Its fictional supernatural fantasy elements are  unreal and improbable to my taste, just as in the French series 'Contact' on Channel Four. It used to be said that religion was regarded as the opium of the people. Nowadays I think it's escapist fantasy fiction which merits this description more and there's so much of it about on a grand ambitious scale thanks to CGI animation.

 

A Google own goal

Getting started in the morning is troublesome at the moment, since I resumed taking the Doxazosin extra medication to control high blood pressure. The side effects seem to be more pronounced this time than on previous occasions when I used it - light headedness, but not quite giddy. It's the same whether I take it at bedtime, or if I take it with the other pills at breakfast. This effect continues for a couple of hours and slows me down, as it's un-nerving.

Fortunately it was warm enough to sit out in St Catherine's churchyard for the Wednesday group coffee and chat this morning. There were eleven of us, plus Emma's bairns, but few of the regulars. Hopefully they'll return when midweek Communion starts up again.

I had a Zoom bereavement meeting to plan Paul's funeral scheduled for two. It took twenty minutes to get started as there were problems with account access, which took that long to sort. I talked with his wife and son, and came away with the task of writing a eulogy, as I've known and worked alongside Paul for over seventeen years. If it was just a family group at the crem, a eulogy might be redundant, maybe replaced by poems, but as the service will be web-casted, followed by scores of city centre colleagues, they thought a tribute might be appropriate. 

It's a new challenge for me, but one I am honoured to accept. He was a man I much respected and admired. As I suspected, I learned that he worked at home during lock-down, even on his deathbed. The Wales Online obituary misleadingly spoke of him as a former City Council worker, which is a pity. He knew how much needed to be done once lock-down restrictions were eased, as he saw the whole moving picture of city centre life in detail and wouldn't give up until he had to.

Writing this tribute took most of the evening. I also wrote to my GP as well, concerned about the high blood pressure reading I got. Despite the antibiotics and doxazosin it's not yet returned to normal. Time for some blood tests I think.

Google Blogger has now forced the new user interface on me as the default. I resent having to relearn a user interface with which I am well experienced after fourteen years of blogging. Lots of its features are tucked away in drop down menus rather than immediately visible, they are slower to react on my ancient Chromebook which means the new interface is more resource hungry. Just like the new Gmail is slower to load than the old version. Sure it'll look good on a tablet or phone, but little is gained when using it in a computer web browser. As far as I'm concerned this is an own goal on Google's part. 

 

Sharing sad news

Another sunny day, up bright and early enough to join a small group of Wednesday people in the garden of St Catherine's for a socially distanced coffee hour, before returning to cook lunch. Clare and I walked around Pontcanna fields after our siesta. There was a stiff cooling breeze, but it didn't deter a dozen youngsters from swimming behind the weir.

I had a call later this afternoon from Jamie Williams, Paul Williams' son, asking me if I would officiate at his father's funeral. Paul and his wife Elaine both worked in Cardiff City Centre. He and I worked together in several different ways during the St David's Centre redevelopment, and during the life of Cardiff Business Safe, albeit not so closely over the past four years. I feel honoured to be asked by the family. I don't know if they have any church connections, but the bond of partnership working in the city centre over the years, decades sometimes, becomes a kind of kinship. Doing the funeral, even if it's likely to be a small private family affair, calls for a follow through.

A city centre memorial celebration for the scores of colleagues who won't be able to attend now under present circumstances will be necessary some time in the future. Ashley and I have already started thinking about how this can be arranged, but news of his death first needs to be out there on the grapevine. Few seem to have known how serious his illness was. He didn't talk about it.

Fortunately, Ashley is still active and knows many people in the city centre, so he'll be able to so something about this. He has been in touch with Paul's P.A Elaine, who needs help putting together a suitable announcement for the Council's media release. He and I spent part of the evening working on this, arguing about how much or how little needs to go in to such a communique which will actually pass editorial scrutiny. The acid test will be how much of it appears on the Wales On-Line news website.
  

Urdd showcase

The afternoon Clare went to Dinas Powis to spend the night with her colleague Jacquie, whose late husband Russell's funeral is to be held in the Wenallt Chapel at Thornhill Crematorium next Saturday morning. I accompanied her in the car as far as the outskirts of Penarth, then walked from there down through the Marina to the Barrage.

The tide was right out, and the sea lock was in operation, for the benefit of a few yachts and fishing boats. I stopped and took photos, and found myself transported to far off places by the sound of the lock gates closing and opening, the roar and scent of  fresh water expelled into the sea. Whether it was the Vienna locks on the Danube or Iffezheim am Rhine, it's the same experience. I just love that environment, and look forward to another cruise when I can travel again. Either on the Duoro or the Rhone, hopefully.

Plas Roald Dahl is now fully occupied with Pavilions and pop up fast food places, ready for the start of the Urdd Eisteddfod running all through half term week from the opening concert tomorrow night. A wonderful fiesta of gifted youth, keen to sing and dance and recite in public. It's marvellous that entrance to events and exhibitions on the 'Maes' is free, as it was for the National Eisteddfod last summer. you just pay to get into the Millennium Centre for performances and concerts staged therein. It's a credit to the City Council to invest in Welsh Arts and Culture in this way.

When I arrived home, there was a messing on the answering machine from cousin Ivor, from whom I have heard nothing for over a year. I knew he'd been in hospital with diabetes related illness, and had been deteriorating due to self neglect. I wrote to him at the time, aware of the difficult I might have at calling a mobile phone at his bedside. In fact, I wasn't sure if I had the right number as he'd changed or lost a phone previously and hadn't kept kept the number.

I called him back, pleased to find that I did have the right number, for future reference. He'd gone through a long spell of rehabilitation with success, and is now back at home. Best of all, he's finally writing the biography of his architectural mentor and role model Leslie Martin, something he's been promising himself to get on with ever since he retired, but never got around to. Already he's half way through the writing stage, loving the task and finding renewed enthusiasm for what he does well. Becoming a grandfather this year was a big boost to his spirits. Sarah his daughter has followed in her father's footsteps and qualified as an architect after a first class degree in pottery, and she's already producing work he delights in. Nice to have some good news for a change.
 

In the evening, I watched the last double episode of Canadian crimmie 'Cardinal', with a somewhat predictable ending. The landscape is a beautiful backdrop to the drama, but its seasons and weather don't play a part in this 'back of the beyond' story, as happens in BBC Wales' 'Hinterland' or 'Rebecka Martenson: Arctic Murders', to name two series that get it right.

  

Connectivity restored

As she was leaving for school this morning, Clare saw a big builder's lorry at work removing a dump of rubble from the street a few doors down. It's been there for over a month, doubling in size, taking up nearly three parking bays this past week. A major remodelling of the back of a house has been going on during this time, with the sound of hammering penetrating two sets of walls to reach us, six days a week. No builder's skip was used, and the height of rubble reached over five feet in places, posing a safety risk as well as parking 'claim jumping'.

Was it being done with official permission I wondered and enquired of our local councillors, who weren't exactly forthcoming about it. It was a relief to see the back of this - all those loose bricks and pieces of rubble, so easily accessible, would be so easy for a mischief maker to make trouble with, or some kid to treat as a little adventure playground when no adults are watching. Not all who building workers are quite as considerate or safety aware as they should be for the common good.

Finally, at ten thirty this morning, third time lucky, a visit from an OpenReach telephone engineer to sort out our connectivity problem, 22 year old Liam from Ammanford, four years on the job since leaving school, and only recently moved up to work in Cardiff. 

He needed no elaborate diagnostic devices to start with, he'd spotted the problem by the time he got to the front door. The line running from the pole in the street into the house dates back to 1961, and has deteriorated with the passage of time. It wasn't changed, when the switch was made from old style wooden poles which had to be climbed, to hollow easy to manage metal poles. Overhead lines running to individual houses are now accessed through a small ground level hatch in the pole which connects each to an underground cable linked to the area digital relay cabinet. I haven't seen anyone work on this kind of equipment before so I watched with interest from porch, in the rain. Once a new line had been run into the house, a series of electronic line tests were run, and our broadband is now running at 16mbs down, 9mbs up.

I queried why the speed dropped to less than a tenth of what it should be. Liam explained that if an auto-diagnostic process reveals that if the signal to noise quality of a line drops, or connectivity is intermittent for some other reason, a cut out mechanism operates to forestall a potentially damaging power surge. Our line quality has been poor for quite a while, but gone un-noticed until I ran a few online speed tests. What I thought was the just due to our computers slowing down under Windows 10's excessive and un-necessary recourse to internet resources, and unable to handle two devices updating or uploading at the same time was mainly a line problem. Windows doesn't now run much faster, perhaps a little smoother. From boot to working document page is still 2-3 minutes. Anyway, it's such a relief to have this problem sorted at last.

I cooked lunch for Clare, returning home after teaching a morning session, and before returning to school for a staff meeting, then I went for a four mile walk as the light was fading fast. I collided with a small traffic bollard obscured by deep shadow, placed right on the footpath I was taking at the edge of Llandaff Fields to prevent cars being parked on the path and grazed my shin. ThankfulIy, I didn't fall, but I was reminded of the collision with a buttress I had in the dark on the footpath at Territet a year ago. I guess I'm still in denial about being less able to see as well in low light as I used to, and still don't carry a torch. But I am starting to use a smartphone flashlight if I'm less than confident of ever familiar routes, once it's dark. Feeling my age, damn it!

  

  

New priest for St John's City Parish

Yesterday afternoon, Clare drove me to UHW Heath for a session with the colorectal consultant. I took the time to write down all that had occurred over the two and a half months since my last visit for a colonoscopy examination. This I feel is better than trying to tell it all in a connected way for another to need to write down. My little contribution goes into their record files. The man I saw wasn't the one I expected to see who did the colonoscopy, but that didn't matter. He said my brief account was useful. 

I now make a habit of writing to my GP and reporting anything that happens in between visits, as this saves time when I do have an appointment. These days the digital paper trail in the GP surgery is pretty comprehensive and up to date, although this doesn't seem to be replicated in specialist hospital department information systems. So much information, so fragmented, no real overview anywhere. As a patient I hope I have a fairly integrated view of my own circumstances even if my own interpretation is limited and lacking. The essential thing is to participate and not just be passive in getting fit and well again.

Anyway, an MRI scan appointment has now been ordered for me. There's a long queue and I may need to chase after this by ringing Appointments admin. Ashley gave me a useful hint for curtailing the potentially month long wait. Tell them that you're willing to show up whenever and wherever there is a free space or a cancellation, given the urgency expressed by the consultant to proceed with this. The MRI scan will map the course taken by the perianal fistula, which is apparently what is now giving me trouble, and enable the surgeons to plan a precise intervention to deal with it. This can then be dealt with, hopefully, in a day surgery session in a way that promotes efficient healing of the necessary incision(s). Well, we'll see how it turn out. More waiting to come, however, and more time on low level of activity, not making things worse. 

This morning I attended the Eucharist for St Luke's Day at St John's Canton. When I got home, the appointment letter for yesterday, postmarked the day before, had just arrived. I had agreed to take a cancelled appointment on the phone last Friday, the administrator said the letter wouldn't come before Monday. On the day of the appointment I rang up to check and found that all was in order, as promised. It's the mail department which didn't do its job. Ashley told me that he had had similar experiences on a number of occasions, arranging appointments by phone for his daughter. Complaining yields nothing it seems. And this is the age of computer automated mailing. Still over-promising and under-delivering after thirty years. At least, I'm in the treatment queue I need to be in now.

This afternoon I drove to the School of Optometry in Cathays for my annual eye test, and ordered some prescription reading glasses and a change lenses for my pair of distance glasses I can wear with detachable sunshades. The newer pair I obtained last year have a frame shape for which no detachable shades are available, so they weren't the best purchase I've made. I don't want custom tinted specs, nor photoreactive ones which to my mind work too slowly. Lighting conditions in which I do and don't need shades can change quicker than any lens, and I prefer to keep them handy so I can take them off or put them on whenever necessary.

In the evening I went to town on the bus to St John's City Parish Church to attend the licensing of its third priest in charge since I left. The new priest, also called Sarah Jones like the last has been Rector of Ross on Wye team ministry for eleven years and curate there before that for three. She had a prior history working in retail and training retailers, so this secular experience will stand her in good stead as she seeks to engage in ministry to the business sector in the city centre. It was great to see the Mayor there in full regalia, making a formal greeting to her on behalf of the City. Apparently the leader of the CIty Council took part in the interview process at the Bishop's invitation. It's a far cry from what happened when I was appointed and I am very very pleased about it. Seventeen years ago things were very different, and the detente between church and city was much cooler and remoter, with the exception of rather lame initiatives being made on the inter-religious front. This, to my mind is what a fresh mind from outside the situation can bring to episcopal leadership. We're very fortunate, I believe.
 
  

Evening Taffside walk home

I walked to St Luke's to celebrate Mass with four people this morning. Fr Jesse Smith attended, on his way to meet the Archdeacon. It's ages since we last met. It's great to see him looking fit and well after a challenging bout of serious illness several years ago. At that time I did some locum duties in his Parish, though we got to know each other when he was Team Vicar in Central Cardiff Parish 16 years ago. He left us for a Tyneside parish. I remember going up there for his induction, a six hour journey. I was delighted that after a spell over the border he returned to the Parish where he's been incumbent now for ten years.

I had an email request to take a funeral a week Thursday. I won't be able to meet with the family members until next Monday to discuss the service, but that gives me plenty of time to prepare. 

This evening we went to choir practice, and numbers attending were thin enough to conclude that it's now time to stop rehearsals for the summer. Instead of learning new pieces we did some voice exercise work, which to my mind is a good thing. Mine gets well worked in the course of leading services but doesn't really get stretched by new demands. I have a little idea now of what I need to be doing to remedy this. I've lost a few bottom notes, but it seems that it's never too late to recover them, if I make the effort.

We went to choir by bus, but there were no buses timetabled for eight thirty when we were ready to set off for home, and nobody going in our direction to give us a lift, so we walked back 5.3km along the Taff trail, after buying a picnic supper in the swish new Llandaff North Lidl store. It was a very pleasant summer evening walk, marred only by discarded cans and bottles. I couple of items I could not pass by, I carried 400m to the nearest bin. Sometimes the distance between bins is greater. More are needed to cope with the problem caused by the couldn't care less members of our throwaway society. More bins require more maintenance staff, and city budgets have experienced terrible cut backs. 

Last week I completed a local council on-line survey to give feedback on its public cleansing services, as I expressed an interest in the issue many moons ago. In this era of enforced austerity in public spending, I believe it's necessary to make it easier for volunteers to work on keeping litter under control, by making collection resources available to them - temporary bins, bags, gloves, tongs etc. Is this too hard to consider, I wonder?

  

Home catch-up

I forgot to mention that while I was away, a new central heating boiler was fitted, and on Monday of  this week, our new secure front door was fitted, by the people who did our double glazing Secura Windows. and it looks good. There's more light in the hall due to its glazed panelling and white surfaces. The locking mechanism with a single key replacing the old pair of locks. It takes a little getting used to, as it operates dead bolts into the door frame. The previous door was fifty years old and undistinguished. This improves the appearance of the house from the street, and we joke about coming home and not being able to recognise our own front door

It's taken me a couple of days to settle down, and get back into domestic routine. Yesterday, I took my usual walk down to the river Taff. A large tree was lodged at the top of the weir beneath the footbridge. A lady walking her baby in pram told me there'd been high winds and torrential rain a few days earlier. It was hard to tell the place along the bank from which the tree had been uprooted.

Many big trees grow along the water's edge on both sides. I think they are Alders which flourish in wet zones and readily colonise a place where there's soil to take root in. Some grow for decades, if undisturbed, but the roots are shallow and tend to run through subsoil rather than go deep so they are subject to wind and water erosion where exposed, right. A few days of rain and flood water quickly masks a place where a large tree s torn out, so it's very difficult spot where it came from, along a well populated river bank.

One ivy clad Alder had split down its trunk and most of the tree now lies wedged among others on the bank. Many fallen trees not obstructing the path are left to rot back, offering a nourishing haven to insects, and that's good for bird life. As for the tree lodged in the river, I wonder if this will be removed fairly soon, as it's big enough to attract other floating detritus and build a blockage in the water, and lead to flood defences being overwhelmed. It worries me that Council budget cutbacks could lead to costly neglect. Would conservation volunteers be allowed to have a go at removing it? I wonder?

Today, we had another visit from the double glazing specialist who installed the new door, to replace the double glazed window panel which fractured due to thermal shock they day we had a home visit to order the new front door. The house is now secure and warm.

I've been playing catch-up with the More4 Water Presents series Professor T. It's interesting viewing as it's a Flemish language Belgian Crimmie, set in and around Antwerp. Flemish is related to Dutch and borrows words from English, French and German. London has a long historic relationship with Antwerp and Rotterdam due to maritime trade. It's fascinating to glimpse a little of the life of some of our nearest neighbours. 

Professor T is a psychologist and criminologist and university teacher of immense learning. He has complex mental health issues, including OCD behaviour, and a kind of autism expressing itself in what resembles Asberger's syndrome, though his remarks are delivered with often embarrassing bluntness and unapologetic honesty. It's very funny to watch with a superb supporting cast bearing with his odd behaviour patiently, because his analysis and judgements prove to be penetratingly accurate, if on times bewilderingly. This character reminded me immediately of Agatha Christie's quirky old Inspector Poirot, odd, self contained, larger than life. Another brilliant Belgian, anything but dull, despite appearances.

The crimes investigated (and I'm watching Series two first) most revolve around family relationships rather than criminal or political conspiracy. The analysis of complex motives, and inter personal dynamics as ordinary folk are precipitated into extraordinary situations is very thought provoking, as are various relationships within the workplace. Mental health and disability issues come into focus, and one of the secondary story-lines showcases senile dementia, and euthanasia, legal in Belgium, very sensitively done. It addresses serious everyday issues, and in an entertaining engaging way. Well worth a watch. I'd like to see the series on BBC Four.

No change but a change of air

During the night I was conscious of the arrival of high winds, not just from the noise outside, but from a perceptible change of air. That sounds odd, but the coastal plain Cardiff inhabits suffers from polluted air when weeks pass without a breeze. It's got worse in recent years with increased traffic congestion. There are times when I'm returning home from a walk in the park, that there's a noticeable difference between the air out in Llandaff or Pontcanna Fields, and the air along Penhill Road, the penultimate leg, which reeks of diesel fumes from standing traffic. 

Cardiff Council's published pollution maps confirm from monitoring data what a healthy sense of smell detects. We're two hundred yards from Penhill Road and our street is very quiet. The scent of pollution isn't so obvious at home from day to day, but when a strong wind blows, the difference quite marked. I wish we lived in the country or near the sea, though I can't see us moving house again. We just need to get out and away more often, to take the air.

I went to St John's to celebrate the midweek Eucharist this morning but Fr Chris Lee turned up to take the service as well,due to a double booking error. I felt glad to sit with the congregation and worship. The only other times I've been able to do that for a long time have been on a couple of weekend trips to Kenilworth to look after Rhiannon. It's so good to be on the receiving end and be ministered to, and it was lovely to chat with Chris after the service.

Following a brief trip to the bank and to shops I returned home for lunch, and then went out on foot to make a bereavement visit at the west end of Canton Parish. As I wasn't sure of my street destination, I checked on Google Maps, which set me the quickest walking route. This proved misleading when, two third of the way through the journey, I was led into a side street, to get to the main road by a shortcut, whose only exit was closed off with a 'residents only access' security gate. One hears of this happening with sat-nav car directions leading to dead ends on country lanes, but don't expect it in a heavily built up area on a walking route! Anyway, it only delayed me by a few minutes, and then an hour later I was on my way home again.

Kath and Rhiannon had arrived by the time I returned. Kath returns tomorrow as she and Anto work this weekend. Rhiannon will end her half term and 13th birthday week with us. The Clare and I will drive with her back to Kenilworth on Sunday. I'll stay for a couple of nights, and Clare for the week to look after Rhiannon, as Kath and Anto have another busy week of Wriggledance touring gigs in parts of the country where next week is half term, not this one. Such is the life of an artistic family. We're just glad to be able to support them, and have time together with them in between engagements.

After tea we went for a walk down to the river Taff. Rhiannon walked arm in arm with me and told me all about her birthday pizza party the night before. It was heartwarming, despite the powerful chilling effect from the strong north wind sweeping through the region. The evening highlight of was watching 'Death in the Caribbean' on the telly, a rather old fashioned detective story reminiscent of another era. And despite our various efforts, none of us guessed who the murderer was.

No news of the election of a Bishop this evening from Llandaff Cathedral. The electoral college was unable to come to a consensus, nor to a 2/3rds majority vote. Nobody knows why, as participants are bound by an oath of confidentiality. Those outside, anxious for a result to gossip about, fantasise and joke instead in Facebook postings. If we have to choose a new father-in-God, this is I suppose as good if not better than any other ways. Public electoral campaigns are to my mind anathema. Discernment has been entrusted to trustworthy electors, themselves elected to office. When discernment fails everyone is bound to worry somewhat. If the electoral college fails, the Bishops meet and appoint someone. How long we have to wait for this to happen has not yet been announced, as far as I know. Let's hope it happens soon. 

   

Urban parking presures

Monday morning, I had to drive over to Adamsdown for a bereavement visit. I had intended to refuel the car over the weekend, but my usual refuelling stop  was closed for renovation, and after that I forgot to look for another, and I noticed the car's fuel gauge was almost on empty after choosing a route across town on which there were no filling stations. After a circuit of Splott and Adamsdown, I went to the one on Newport Road, just in the nick of time. 

Then, I had to hunt for a parking pace close to the house I was visiting, and discovered that every street for half a mile was subject to the restriction of parking permits for residents only. There was plenty of space, as many residents would have drive to work, but if a traffic warden showed up in my absence, I'd get fined or even clamped. Fortunately, after parking briefly on the pavement outside my destination, my hosts let me drive into the gated yard behind their apartment block. Better late than never! 

Tuesday lunchtime, I drove Clare to another appointment at the Heath. Due to traffic queues, I had to drop her off to walk the last quarter of a mile, while I joined vehicles crawling around the hospital ring road. The main visitor car park had a 'Full' notice outside, whether this was true or not - cars were still entering and leaving I noticed, not even the most basic modern technology was available displaying the number of empty spaces for hopeful drivers entering to compete over, so I left the campus to look for a parking place in the Gabalfa area adjacent to the hospital on the opposite side of the A48 ring road. This too is a parking permits for residents only zone, with many empty spaces, so the best thing to do was drive home. I couldn't join Clare for her half hour appointment, nor could I let her know, as I'd left my phone on charge. I was back only ten minutes when she let me know she'd finished, in response to my belated text message.

I hate having to use a car in town, but sometimes, like today and yesterday, it was unavoidable. Across the city the demand for parking spaces exceeds supply. Our street resisted the imposition of parking permits, residents preferring to take their chances when it comes to securing a parking space. With quite a mobile group of residents this works, sort of, although any night arriving home after dark it's pretty certain I'll have to hunt for a space several hundred yards from home. We have more cars than houses, with less available space than an average side street because of space was taken, decades ago, to narrow the entrance with two oversized islands, housing trees. There's enough room for an extra 4-6 cars to park safely on them, whenever we get to parking overflow and regular space is used, but people end up getting parking fines. Regulated parking means that spaces empty during the day can't be occupied by anyone else on a casual basis, without risking a fine. A much smarter solution is needed that this if only to reduce congestion from drivers circulating slowly looking for a usable empty space.

Sometimes, I just wish we lived somewhere rural, where there's plenty of space to park on demand, but to do so would entail having to use a car to get anywhere at all, more than I ever want to. I wonder, if it would be cheaper to give up car ownership, and use just taxis and public transport when necessary, long before age and infirmity obliges us to.

      

On the Danube - third leg

We woke up this morning with the MV Jane Austen moored at the landing place in the village of Durnstein in the Wachau Valley. It was originally a wine growing area in which the 19th century philloxera plague wiped out the vines. In order to survive the farmers switched to cultivating apricot trees instead and developed a new industry making brandy, liqueur and schnapps from its abundant apricot crops. Winemaking resumed eventually, and now the region has a double reputation for its spirits and its high quality white wine.

The population is quite small, perhaps a thousand people, but the settlement goes back beyond the middle ages when a castle was built on a high promontory 312 metres above the Danube, with an outer wall dropping down the steep mountainside and encircling the village below. King Richard the Lionheart was held captive here for about six months, and legend has it that his whereabouts were discovered by his faithful friend Blondel who tracked him down to this place. On the walk up from the village to the castle, much is made of the story in multi-lingual interpretation panels, and there is even a portal with a recorded music installation, on the path just below the remains of the castle gatehouse.

On the way up, I learned that a man called David Sambruck in our walking party with family and friends was from Cardiff, and that we'd met a decade ago, attending the City Centre Improvement Group which went on during the city centre redevelopment. He was with the Council's Waste Management team until he retired, and we discovered a shared passion for green issues, recycling, alternative energy, and the frowned upon by family pursuit of collecting stray litter in public spaces and taking it to the nearest bin. Nice to know someone other than me gets the 'Oh you're embarassing' reproach when we're out  walking or picnicking.

Walking to the top and taking photos, plus stopping for a chat while we caught our breath on the steep climb took most of our time ashore, and was very well worth it for the amazing views of the valley below. After the descent, I had a look around the village and found a cemetery by the parish church with a funeral chapel and crypt with an ossuary containing the bones of soldiers whose bodies were collected following a battle named after the village during the Napoleonic war in 1805. It's not far from here apparently. Bones collected were sorted into neat batches for storage, like spare parts in a warehouse, very impersonal. On a corner opposite the town hall, were military memorials from both sides - the Austrian-Russian coalition and Napoleon's army, erected in an altogether different era of European community and peace.

Clare and I got separated on the climb to the castle when I stopped to chat with David, but we were re-united in the main street, moments before I received her worried text. We had a brief look at the courtyard entrance to the small Benedictine Abbey, but didn't have enough time to pay the entrance fee and visit properly. It's a distinctive building its facades and outer walls painted in pale yellow and its tall ornate baroque tower painted in powder blue, visible from afar when on the river.

With twenty minutes to spare we headed for the ship, just five minutes walk from the village, and then had time to stop at a quayside bar for a small beer, before boarding to eat lunch while the ship slipped her moorings and headed upstream again for Melk, a couple of hours' of sailing away, for our second stop of the day, to visit a very grand Benedictine Abbey, founded nearly 950 years ago.

The Abbey is very visible from the Danube sitting above the town of Melk. Once the Danube ran at the base of the promontory on which the Abbey was built, but in the last few centuries a change of course for the river has grown a lengthy wooded island with a narrow water channel nearest the town and Abbey, and the river landing stages are now on the far side. You can walk up from the landing stage to the Abbey, but the preferred way of managing visitors - half a million a year, I heard it said - is for them to be taken up by coach and deposited in a parking area above the Abbey precinct, and the you walk down to the welcome area with a find view over the town and one part of the Abbey gardens.

Hospitality is a key precept of monastic life after worship and learning, and every aspect of making visitors welcome has been carefully thought through and developed with huge investment from the revenue of visitor admission fees and monastic agricultural lands, The Abbey markets its own fine wines, both white and red, also liqueurs. In addition the Abbey runs, in a major section of its own buildings, a low cost fee paying co-educational high school for mainly local children. There are thirty monks, half of whom serve in parishes of the region, plus this hugely sophisticated modern and diverse social enterprise employing five hundred people. Yet, at its heart is expresses, in a most authentic way, the meaning of living a good and wholesome life, as interpreted by the sixth century Rule of St Benedict. 

We were most impressed, not only by the young woman who was our tour guide, but also by the visitor centre taking us through a millennium of Benedictine history in this place, not only in displays of religious artwork and artefacts of the kind one would expect to find in a monastery, but also some imaginative contributions from contemporary artists interpreting the significance of the Rule, and the 'Life and work' spirituality it expresses for a secular world. A very powerful piece of multi-media evangelism and witness for today's church.

It rained on us a little when we had to cross the terrace overlooking the town and the Danube. The first time this week. We were shown the great monastic library with a collection of eighty thousand books, ancient and modern - the oldest being eleventh century. The Abbey, we heard, had to sell its Gutenberg Bible first edition to Yale University to fund roof repairs and renovation. The monks had hosted a meeting of Nobel Prize winning scholars a few years ago, gathered there to reflect on science and spirituality. Amazing stories, and an amazing place, now listed as a World Heritage Site. I wonder what St Benedict makes of all this prestige? Albeit his disciples have done him proud down the centuries.

Back then to the ship for supper and cast off for the overnight journey to Linz, the closest we will get to the German border, not for from Berechtestgarten, Hitler's mountain top retreat. One of his last futile dreams had been to retire eventually to Linz, level most of the city, and 'modernise' it with Teutonic style architecture, a failure for which the world can be grateful.