Retirement Deferred

A chilly morning, with clouds and sunshine. On the way to St Catherine's midweek Eucharist, I called at the surgery and picked up my prescription and took it to the chemist's opposite. There were a dozen of us for the service, in which we commemorated the 16th century Anglican priest poet John Donne. Mother Frances read us his sonnet beginning 'Batter my heart three person'd God', a nice touch.

After lunch I went and collected this week's organic veggie bag from a new pickup point in Conway Road which replaces the one in Chapter Arts Centre. It's out of use for a while as it's located in an enclosed outdoor area no longer directly accessible from the Chapter car park. Another pandemic casualty. It's only recently Chapter has been able to open at all, and thenonly in a limited way. It's a disaster economically and socially, as it's much used as a community eating and meeting place as well as for cultural activities. 

Then I went for a walk around Llandaff Fields and down to the weir, where I took a couple of photos of a heron stretching its wings on one of the long reefs of stone in the middle of the river. As they were about forty metres away from me, I had to use almost full telephoto reach with my little Sony HX90, and was surprised they both came out with negligible motion blur. Sometimes you just get lucky! 

When I got back, the clock told me that the regular Wednesday choral Evensong was still running, but three quarters completed. I listened on BBC sounds, as it allows you to roll back to the beginning. A very traditional service with some modern musical settings of the responses and canticles. The Old Testament lesson was beautifully read by a young man with a north country accent. This really suited the use of the King James Version of the Biblical text. The second was equally beautifully read by a young woman with a gentle rural Ulster accent. The service came live from Clare College Cambridge, so live that a very loud fire alarm went of for 15 seconds during the lesson. She continued reading perfectly without any lapse of concentration as if nothing had happened. Very impressive.

Mother Frances is away next week, and as both her colleagues are off work at the moment she asked if I could cover the Parish Morning Prayer services on WhatsApp. It's the first week of Advent, so I'll enjoy putting six services of fiver or so minutes duration. I also get to celebrate two of three weekday Masses in the Parish, another unexpected pleasure. I started work on the content this evening, but the delivery is of more concern - how to present a video in a way that isn't annoying or distracting. I'd be a lot happier if it were just audio, but hey ho, another little challenge. Retirement is on hold again, and I'm happy that the op has freed up some energy occupied for too long in keeping low level infection at bay. I have a lot to be thankful for. 

Movie night with friends

A routine visit to check in with my GP this morning, and tell the tale of the past few days. He had a couple of very young looking medical students on placement with him. I said how, despite all that's happened, the nursing care I've been receiving has led to a improvement in my overall condition. Also with the medication change, my blood pressure average readings resemble much more what he is happy with, after a long spell of being elevated worryingly. Nursing care or pills? Both, I reckon. Then back to the Riverside Health Surgery in the afternoon for a dressing change - every other day, now things seem to be a bit steadier.

We went to Chapter Arts Centre to see a movie this evening 'The Favourite'. Described as a black comedy in the ethos of the Restoration period, relating the story of eccentric Queen Anne and her women lovers. It was superbly filmed period costume drama with brilliant acting and direction, no doubt destined for high filmic honours. The script was coarse, witty, sometimes funny, but I found it lacked any content to uplift or inspire me. There's nothing new to learn about being from the details of decadent lives notable for unabated vicious intrigue that I feel I need to know. Royal voyeurism as entertainment? We stoop so low. Are we so bored with ordinary decent lives? It's not for me. A wasted evening, as far as I'm concerned.

We met choir friends Claus and Anna on our way into the movie theatre. We sat together, then after the show, invited them back home for 'Abendbrot' - bread cheese pickle and salad washed down with a bottle of Pflazer Spätburgunder from Lidl's - a favourite light red for all four of us. Anna told us of her programming plans for the next concert series. Unusual music, promising to be challenging and fun to sing. I hope I shall be able to rejoin rehearsals this time around. It would be a real tonic.

   

A royal feast of music

The temperature has dropped over the weekend and stays low, more trees are now stripped of their leaves, so it looks and feels more like winter. This called for a brisk walk to the GP surgery early this morning to deliver a sample swabbed from my wound with Clare's kind help yesterday evening. Not a bad idea to test this in case there's anything unexpected to be spotted, I guess. From there I went down to the bank to pay in some money before walking home.

In the afternoon, I took the bus to town to buy a new sphygmometer for measuring blood pressure. I've come to the conclusion that the variation in readings it gives may have as much to do with the reliability of the device, as it does with my physical variability. I was pleased to pay only twenty quid, roughly half the price they were when I first considered buying one a decade or so ago. If fact, a lady working in St John's tea room gave me one she'd given up using, so that one could now be twenty years old. The new one is smaller, batteries only, and it memorises thirty readings in sequence if you don't have paper to write your readings down, as I must before recording them on a spreadsheet for the sake of my GP.

After supper, we walked to Chapter Arts Centre to see the movie 'Bohemian Rhapsody', the bio-pic about Queen and Freddy Mercury. It was a wonderful, faithful production, conjuring up the seventies and eighties, climaxing in the Live Aid Concert for Africa, and full of familiar songs portrayed in the making or performed on stage. When we got home, we looked at original footage of Queen's performance at Live Aid in Wembley stadium in 1985, and realised just how historically faithful a recreation the film presented. What a musical feast! I didn't our couldn't get into Queen at that time, have nonetheless been exposed to the music in every decade since. But I still haven't memorised any of the lyrics. I never was good at that, unlike my amazing singing daughters. 

Modern Morality Tale

I finally had the GP appointment this morning which Clare booked me in for while I was away. It was needed for my six monthly medication review, and to discuss a couple of minor issues that may merit attention. I came away with a trial prescription for additional blood pressure medication. I've been on the same meds for the best part of ten years, and getting older, losing weight, diet change etc, doesn't always lead to desired improvement. The pharmacist who dealt with me was also interested in talking with me about my experience with the medication. I think it might be part of a piece of research work being undertaken. I can expect to receive letters about arranging specialist appointments some time soon.

When I visited the surgery last week with a prescription request, the reeptionist drew attention to an application form for patients in the practice to fill in, and request access to the practice's new on-line appoinment booking system. Recently I've been receiving tex message reminders of GP appointments to add to the email reminders from my dentists. As I abandoned the use of a paper diary a few years after retirement, I rely completely on Google Calendar and its notifications, delivered to every digital device I have. I vainly like to think it means I am more punctual, less likely to miss appointments and be in the wrong place, now that I tend to me more forgetful anyway. It does, however, depend on me remembering to switch on a phone or a tablet when I get, and on that score, I have put myself to shame a few times recently.

This evening we attended a play being put on this week in St John's Canton. It featured a mix of professional working with amateur actors who have been homeless. It was based on Charles Dickens' second Christmas story 'The Chimes' a project with the backing of the Chapter Arts Centre. The nave had been arranged with tiered seating facing inwards, and the cast used the south aisle and chancel as off stage areas. 

There were many songs as well as dialogue in the style of musical theatre, plus an excellent hi-fi sound and video projection system, well used to provide the mise en scène. It was a fine piece of work, given a punchy contemporary feel by the use sound bytes from May and Thatcher, in addition to verbal quotes about poverty, homelessness and the benefit system from current political discourse, This highlighted an uncanny similarity between Dickensian and contemporary talk of the poor and of poverty. 

I left, feeling aggrieved to think that the mindset of the rich problematising the poor has changed so much less that it could have. Really, it's the rich, refusing to share wealth and power which are the problem. As this was a largely secular take on past and present, it also occurred to me how much worse it would have been without the prophetic ministry of Christian and Jewish teachers, preachers and philanthropists. And how much harder it now is with a huge proportion of citizens losing their religion. At least this is compensated for, to a significant extent, by everyday Islamic philanthropy and good will towards the poor, exercised by by those who have little, as well as those who have much.

 

St Fagan's outing and Chapter Arts performance

Today, we took Saralee for a walk around the Museum of Welsh History at St Fagan's. The place is in the throes of a major makeover, thanks to new funding from the Heritage Lottery fund and the Welsh Assembly Government. It's six years since we last visited there with Kath and Rhiannon, so a few more old buildings have been added to the collection apart from the current refurbishment of the main entrance and welcome area.

After a siesta and early supper we walked to Chapter Arts Centre for a performance in the Seligman Studio of a play by final year students from the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama called 'Three Days in the Country' by Patrick Marber. It re-tells in condensed form the Russian classic comedy by Turgenev called a 'A month in the Country'. It was very well presented by the company of young actors, not an easy thing to achieve, given the age generation differences between several of the key characters in the drama.

The theatre space is usually a gallery, long and narrow, adapted on this occasion with a long central stage with the audience on each extended side of the oblong, accommodating about sixty people. An interesting arrangement which brought the audience right into the heart of the dramatic action. A challenge the players succeeded in rising to.
  

St Thomas conundrum and a remarkable movie

I drove to St German's this morning to celebrate a quiet midweek Mass for eight people. It's the shortest day, but significant though it may be as a turning point in the year, there's nothing in the liturgy of the day that reflects the natural order, apart from the ancient antiphon to the Magnificat.

O Rising Sun, you are the splendour of eternal light and the sun of justice.

Come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death.

Before the Revised Calendar and Lectionary came in, the shortest day was marked by being the feast of St Thomas the Apostle. I found myself wondering why his celebration should have been placed today, even though it has been relocated nowadays on the third of July.

I returned home straight away, as people in the day centre I normally drop in on after Mass were getting ready to be taken to another social centre for (pre) Christmas lunch. I returned and cooked lunch for us instead of supper, as we had tickets for an early evening showing of Clint Eastwood's latest film 'Sully' at Chapter Arts Centre.

The film was a marvellously detailed account of the dramatic landing of an Airbus 320 jet airliner on the river Hudson in January 2009, which saved the lives of all 155 people on board, and approached it from an unusual angle, focusing on the proceeds of the Air Transportation Safety Board's enquiry into the pilot's reason for ditching the plane, when he was within a few minutes flying time of two airfields. Recklessness and poor judgement was being alleged, despite the public acclamation of pilot Chesley Sullenberger as a hero. The enquiry made much use of computer simulations to prosecute this case, but in the end, detailed examination of the evidence revealed that the pilot's training and experienced quick judgement of the situation, outstripped the best guesses of artificial intelligence and data input.

This was a marvellous frame of reference for looking at the event itself in flashbacks, marvellously reproduced through use of Computer Graphic Imagery of the film's setting, based on original news footage, together with live actors. There was a much tension in the enquiry sequences as there was in the re-play of the incident itself. Sully found the portrayal of himself as a hero hard to cope with, as he is highly conscious and reliant on teamwork from the whole crew to make the best of a bad situation. It is an admirable movie. I hope it wins lots of awards, and is shown on telly in the not too distant future.

As we were leaving Chapter we bumped into Fr John Webber, who was enjoying a quiet pint and a read in his local. Co-incidentally, he'd posted on Facebook earlier an image he'd taken forty years ago of the shrine church at the site of St Thomas' martyrdom in southern India, so I asked him if he knew why his traditional feast day was today. In Indian Christian tradition, taken from that of the East Syrian church of ancient times, Thomas the Apostle was said to have been killed in 72AD on this day. Why shift to July? I asked if he knew. Apparently Thomas is considered to important an observation to get lost in the immediate run up to Christmas, so he is now commemorated just after midsummer instead on a day which features in another ancient church martyrology as the date he was killed. As an erstwhile parish priest of a church in Bangladesh dedicated to St Thomas, Fr John is unconvinced of the need for this relocation. I bet Syrian Christians still observe this traditional Advent feast day. 

  

Question of treatment

As it was bitterly cold and there was fog in the air, I drove to this morning's dental appointment rather than walk. There was only one lost filling to replace, otherwise my teeth are in good shape. I paid just over forty pounds for a check-up and a replacement filling. A notice displayed in the reception area say that patients must pay in advance for any planned scheme of repair work arising from a check-up. 

This can be very expensive indeed, more than some patients can lay their hands on there and then, so they need to go away and think about how they can afford it. But, the proposed costed plan itself only lasts six weeks, and they must return and pay up front within that time frame, or be obliged to go through and pay for another checkup for the same or a revised estimate to be applicable.

Modern dentistry is high tech, effective and expensive. Registered NHS patients only get to pay a proportion of treatment costs. Those on benefits get completely free treatment. The economics of modern health care are complex and difficult, and it seems well nigh impossible for health authorities not to run out of money to achieve their aims. We pay for dentistry through taxation, and most of us have to pay also through the charges levied on treatment. 

The same could also happen in future for medical treatment. Recently we've been hearing in the news about JAMs (=people Just About Managing.) Those in this category not on benefits may find themselves unable to afford treatment and having to forego necessary repairs, maybe medical treatment generally. Such progress has been made in health care and medicine over the past century, but at an increasingly great price. Where will it all end?

After the dentists, I went into town and met Fr Rufus for lunch at Cafe Zest, and heard about the way his ministry has been developing in the most positive way, since we last met, the best part of a year ago. It was great to hear someone so enthusiastic and delighted with the response to his work, in a broader context where ministers' moral is low as a result of catastrophic decline in church membership. Monmouth diocese has reduced its clergy numbers from 130 to 46 in recent years, and coping with the demands of radical change is proving hard for many.

Then I returned to Pontcanna to meet with Fr Chris Lee at Cafe Castan on Llandaff FIelds, to discuss the funeral of his sister who died last weekend. It's going to be held at St German's. I've already been asked to conduct it, and as there are several other clergy who also wish to be involved, some advance planning will be needed to enable everyone who wants to can take part.

After an early supper, Clare and I went to Chapter Arts Centre, where mulled wine and mince pies had been laid on for subscribers of Chapter Friends. It was strange to realise when we were there that there that out of hundreds of people there for various evening activities, there was only one person I knew and nobody else I even I recognised from the neighbourhood or the churches. Perhaps that's because I haven't really been around that much over recent years, or simply an indication of the size of the area served and the eclectic constituency of Chapter Friends. It's typical of urban living, I guess, but not really the most congenial experiences to start this so-called season of good-will.

   

Wednesday pastoralia

Midweek Mass at St German's again this morning, and a Spanish conversation with the most recent member of the congregation to become a regular worshipper. Enrique from El Salvador is indeed an asylum seeker escaping from the criminal gangs that dominate his homeland. Exactly what the reason for him needing to escape from there I couldn't gather, as my Spanish is still limited, but I think it may be to do with extortion rackets. His wife is dead and pequeño Enrique, his only child is with him. What a story he has to tell. So much for me to learn and pass on to the congregation, so little time. At the Communion, I remembered to give him communion in Spanish - Cuerpo de Crist, Sangre de Crist. To me, there is no more important moment to reach out to someone in their mother tongue. It's a way of voicing the essentially hospitable nature of the Lord's Sacrament.

I learned that Angela, the church administrator had recently fallen and been admitted to hospital with a possible fracture. So far so good. No broken bones identified, but she's still in pain, and the reason for this has yet to be established. Hopefully, she'll be discharged fairly soon. She's not to sort of person to enjoy hospital attention or inactivity for long.

Our local Ignatian meditation group meets today over lunchtime at Ruth's new Vicarage in Tonyrefail. So, Clare and I together with Diana, went together by car, for an hour of prayer and an hour of eating and talking together with others. It's usually a small group, but rich in wisdom and insight nevertheless, and I'm always glad of an opportunity to participate, although on this occasion I was asked to lead, the second time this year. Given the time I spend abroad these days, times of spiritual fellowship of this kind take on an added significance on my journey. Another cause for gratitude in my life.

After our return, I went to Chapter Arts Centre to collect our weekly delivery of organic veg from the Riverside Market Garden, then called in on Fr Phelim on the way back, to return his church keys and catch up with him. Earlier today he asked if I'd cover a funeral on his day off the week after next, just as Fr Mark arrives home from holidays. Glad naturally to be able to help in this way while I'm here in the Benefice.

Unfortunately, Church in Wales parishes are not yet at the stage where they can offer traditionally expected ministries to a wider community without regular help from retired clerics. Others, like me are happy to be useful and fill in the gaps, but it would be far better if there were lay people trained in bereavement ministry, also taking and arranging Anglican funeral services, to support their parish priests and share the burden of pastoral care in the community.

Memorable movie

I drove through the traffic across town again this morning to St German's to celebrate the Eucharist with a Tredegarville school class in attendance, as well as the usual congregation. CBS had arranged another WECTU counter terrorism briefing, and although I drove straight to the office through the traffic, I was too late arriving to join in, so I got on with other tasks I needed to complete instead. The meeting was considered worthwhile although fewer were present despite considerably more effort in publicising it. It's to be expected, once the initial wave of fear associated with a major terrorist attack has subsided. We just have to keep on at our users to remind them to stay alert to unpredictable and unexpected events. Quite an appropriate message for Advent, really.

In the evening Clare and I went Chapter Arts Centre cinema to see 'The Lady in the Van', an excellent rendering of Alan Ayckbourn's play of the same name, based on his experience of living in Camden, with an eccentric old woman living in a camper van in his drive way. I'd heard the play on Radio 4, and heard it discussed. The film was most rewarding, with an outstanding performance by Maggie Smith. Her evocation of the personality of this old woman, a nun in earlier life, and in her youth a concert pianist, awakened memories of utterly different meetings with Moura Lympany in her latter years, housebound by arthritis in a high rise apartment in Monaco. Long after her concert career was ended, she remained a vivid personality, leaving an impression on those who met her. She certainly wasn't indigent, but vulnerable through infirmity, still striving to engage her visitors with charm, when she entertained over a glass of rosé from her own terroir. She died three years after we left, I learned some years later. She was one of those war time celebrities my mother, also a pianist, looked up to. She'd have been amazed to know that I'd visited and taken her Communion. 

Bio-diverse Canton

This morning we visited The Apothecary shop at the bottom of Llandaff as Clare was in search of a particular herb tea. The owners have turned their , back room into a congenial little tea room, where you can try out many of the brews on sale in the shop and sample some fine looking vegetarian and vegan cakes made by small local providors. What an interesting idea. Clare picked up a leaflet about the open day being held at the nearby Chapter Arts Centre Community Garden, so we went over there to have a look around.

 

Chapter Arts centre, once a secondary school has a large open forecourt in front of the main building once a playground. Two thirds of it have been re-assigned from parking to an area with a series of raised flower beds with bushes, trees and an enormous variety of vegetable and flower plants. There are beehives out the back of the building and a greenhouse in one corner. It's worked by enthusiastic volunteers, and interestingly isn't managed in a regimented way. All kinds of plants grow together side by side, higgledy-piggledy rather than in neat rows. I guess the accent is on bio-diversity, and showing how what are thought of as weeds co-exist, as in the wild, with flowers and edible things. 

We paid to get it, as the Open Day is a charity fund raising event, and were treated to a free drink and a piece of home made cake. An accordeonist and a recorder player were duetting outside, playing folk dance tunes and promoting Pentreffest the annual folk music and dance festival to be held next month in the village of Rudry, the other side of Caerphilly Mountain from Cardiff. We brought home a pot of Chapter honey, utterly delicious. Urban honey benefits from an environment with cultivated gardens and parks presenting much greater floral diversity to bees than rural areas dominated by agrarian mono-culture. Nature's own subtle commentary on what we've done to the land.

Owain arrived in time for supper and a good chat before heading out for a late gig at Gwdihw in town. Before bed we watched the last episode of 'The Young Montalbano' for the second time around. Next Saturday I believe a new series of  Danish crimmie 'The Bridge' is set to begin, but we'll be up in the Llyn Peninsula with Mark and Saralee, over from Seattle from a European holiday, starting in Belguim, then going to Spain, and finally, with us to North Wales. If we have tell in the place we've hired, I doubt if it will get switched on, as there'll be so much to talk about. It's the best part of five years since we last saw Saralee.

Regional crime reduction pow-wow

After an early trip to the GP surgery for a prescription renewal, I pottered about for a couple of hours, then went into town, changed some Euros, horrified by the exchange rate, then went and bought a superzoom Sony HX50 camera that I could have bought in Malaga at the same price, had I not miscalculated the exchange rate and duped myself into thinking it would be cheaper to buy in the UK. I started out some months ago looking for a decent telephoto lens for my DSLR, but quickly gave up on the idea. A 30x zoom in a pocketable camera is a fifth of the price of a lens that would add weight and complexity I don't need for my kind of photography. Like everyone else I'd like to take good quality pictures, but don't need professional high quality output to satisfy my personal needs.

Ashley and I then met up at our new office in the Old Library and we travelled by train to Swansea for the Wales Against Business Crime quarterly meeting with other people working in Business Crime Partnerships across South East Wales. It's the first time I can recall travelling to Swansea by train and it was interesting to see the familiar landmarks along the M4 corridor from a different perspective.

I was the first meeting of this group I've been to, and I was impressed by the amount of ground we covered, ranging from confidential information sharing on identifiable shoplifters travelling between shopping centres along the M4, to discussion about the astonishing inconsistencies between local divisions of South Wales Police in implementing information sharing agreements with their Business Crime Reduction Partnership. Problems in Cardiff are reflected in nearly every area.

Because flooding, high winds and rain were imposing speed restrictions in some areas along the Swansea to Paddington line, there were delays in the schedule of trains that would get us back to Cardiff. It was seven o'clock by the time we got back and I was very lucky to get a bus home within minutes. Clare had arranged an outing to Chapter Arts Centre to hear a story teller accompanied by a fiddler and a guitarist tell tales from the Mabinogion. I scoffed half my supper in great haste before we set out and thankfully we were on time, and to our surprise ended up with a front row seat in an extra row placed on stage. A refreshing end to an interesting day. Now I must get that camera battery charged and ready for action.