Christmas away

With bags and presents packed ready, to load, I went off to St Dyfrig and St Samson's to celebrate their one Christmas Eucharist at seven, rather than midnight yesterday evening. The same number of people attended, as are present for any Sunday Mass, just twenty. The crib, the last candle of the Advent wreath and the Christmas tree were all blessed as part of the service. Although the sermon I preached was shorter than usual, it was still a quarter past eight when I left church. By the time we'd packed the car, and drove away, it was just gone twenty to nine.

Traffic was light all the way there. We used the M50/M5/M42/M40/A46 - all motorway route, which is slightly longer, but with little traffic much quicker. We reached Kath and Anto's in Kenilworth by ten to eleven, deposited presents and some foodstuffs, and then went and checked in four our stay at the Holiday Inn at eleven, exactly on time, much to my surprise. Even more surprising to me was the fact that I drove all the way there, without stopping, and without discomfort for a change.

Our hotel room was blessed with two large comfortable double beds, one for each of us! It was a little too cramped for my liking, but contained all the necessities any short stay visitor could wish for. Also we benefited from a special offer price for a three night stay.

We joined Kath, Anto, Rhiannon, Viv and Owain for breakfast at ten, then preparations for Christmas dinner began, all perfectly timed for us to sit down and eat at half past two. It was dark by the time we'd finished the meal. We'd missed the opportunity of a walk on a fine weather afternoon, but just relaxed, and enjoyed good food, wine and conversation, present opening, then watched 'Klaus' a cartoon movie more for adults than kids about why people send letters to Father Christmas. It was a thoroughly American production, reflecting all-American values and what to my mind is New York wit and humour. I can't say I enjoyed it, but never mind.

Although I coped well with Christmas Eve travel, and have not felt physically tired, the after effects of the 'flu, have left me feeling light headed and sleepy, even though I slept well in a strange bed.

Boxing Day weather was terrible, with Kenilworth shrouded in damp low cloud for much of the day. After another family breakfast, We made our way to the Abbey Fields for the annual charity fund raising Duck Race, in which plastic ducks are dispatched down a fast moving stream, and the top six out of hundreds of sponsored entries are winners. By the time we got there, crowds of people were already leaving and making their ways back into town, so a walk to the castle was called for instead.

We returned for more festive food, a game of Cluedo and a game of darts. Rhiannon showed us all the photos she'd taken on her recent school trip to Florence and Milan, as a student of fashion and design technology. Kath's dance company owns a small digital projector, so it was possible to link up Rhiannon's iPhone to the device, and see them on the dining area wall. Apparently this device is also used for viewing movies on the bedroom wall from time to time. All too soon the day was over.

Waking up on St John's Day morning, we had a WhatsApp message from Owain to say that he had been compelled to leave early in haste, as it was his turn to be 'on call' at work, only he'd forgotten to bring his work phone and laptop, and had only remember this, waking up in the dead of night. He was able to get a colleague to cover for him for as long as it took him to get back to Bristol. Luckily, he had no problems with delayed trains and he was back 'on call' in Bristol by eleven. Viv also left for home before lunch, and so did we. There was a lot of slow moving traffic on the A46, as far as the M40 junction, but thereafter, it wasn't too bad all the way home, but on a slower route with a stop it took us nearly three hours.

It's worth the effort of travelling to spend a couple of days together as a family. although it never seems long enough to savour fully. It's fortunate that we enjoy each other's company, and always a sad that Rachel and Jasmine can't be with us. Snatches of Face Time exchanges aren't quite enough of a compensation. Still, Clare has booked herself a flight to Phoenix to visit Rachel in February. Before the year gets intolerably hot over there. Will I have had my last op by the time she goes, I wonder?

   

Family festive season under way

At some time over the past two days this blog had its quarter of a millionth hit. That's eight years and eight months worth of retirement writing, in nearly two thousand three hundred posts. 

I started a separate blog to record my first long locum duty in Summer 2012, and another to record the December I spent in Sicily that year. Altogether that's another 13,800 hits. With hindsight, I regret doing that. Having that set of posts all in one place would have meant passing the quarter of a millionth mark about three months ago, but never mind. I wonder how many of those page hits turned into pages read? The diagnostics of that are too complex for me, though its nice to think that it includes a proportion of hits from all over the world!

We went to St Catherine's Parish Eucharist this morning. Peter, our newest St Padarn's ordinand on placement preached thoughtfully about Mary, at the center of today's Advent theme. Getting started as a preacher is a bit of an ordeal, but I think he was enjoying himself, and will continue to do so as his ministry develops.

Clare has spent a lot of time lately carefully preparing for Christmas, cooking preparations to reduce the workload on the big day, and decorating the tree yesterday. I haven't been a great deal of help,  with my affliction dominating life at the moment, except for cooking lunch, a few trips to the shops, and taking care of the Christmas letter and greetings, both digital and snail mail. After lunch today, she set up the crib scene in its customary kitchen window space, using the figures our children made when they were in primary school. We seem to have lost a shepherd or two over the years, and the angel is chipped, but never mind it's a small domestic treasury of happy memories.

Owain arrived in time for supper, glad to relax after a high pressure month of work. He moves house just after Epiphany and is fretting about furnishing his flat. But nothing more can be done until the New Year. At last a place of his own. He's more happy than worried.

Kath, Anto and Rhiannon arrive tomorrow, then the day after they leave, Jasmine, over from Arizona with her Dad, arrives to spend New Year with us. Unfortunately the two cousins can't meet this time around, but Uncle Owain will return next weekend after a day on call at work, to spend time with her. He's fond of his nieces. He'd make a lovely Dad himself. We live in hope of this happening one day!
  

Nearly a White Christmas

There were about seventy people for the Midnight Mass I celebrated at St Catherine's last night. I was in bed by one thirty, and up again, breakfasting by eight thirty and on my way to Kenilworth by ten, to join the family Christmas celebrations. I enjoyed listening to Christmas music on Radio Three and Classic FM, depending upon signal reception during the journey, and arrived with plenty of time to spare before our annual festive banquet occupied us for the rest of the afternoon. 

In addition to Kath, Anto, and Rhiannon and Clare, Owain and Anto's sister Viv were with us, as on previous occasions. Owain treated himself to a room in the nearby Holiday Inn, rather than camp out on an airbed, and he didn't leave until quite late. Rhiannon organised a quiz and a bingo session for evening entertainment, after a lengthy time spent organising the opening of presents. We missed the Queen's Speech, though I listened to the night's podcast of The Archers quietly on my own in the bedroom. The telly stayed off, as we found plenty to do, and talk about. It was a most enjoyable day in good company.

By the time we surfaced on Boxing Day, Owain arrived in time to join us for breakfast. Again, we ate and drank and talked, and went out for a walk after lunch, across Balsall Common, as far as Warwick University, a five mile round trip. During the night there had been heavy rain and our choice of  route was determined by the fact that it had a proper metalled footpath so it wasn't just a muddy track. The sun shone, the sky was blue, and crisp fresh air did us a power of good. By the time we settled down to supper, it started to rain and by bed-time, it had started to snow. The radio is full of weather news and snow chaos. I wonder he this will affect our journey home tomorrow?

   

Christmas Eve reunions

I walked into town this morning for the Eucharist at St John's City Parish Church, blessed with a very diverse congregation of adults and children of over seventy people. It was lovely to see many familiar faces, still going strong after the seven years since I retired, some even more active now than they were then, as their own faith has developed. 

It was an enjoyable relaxed, yet quite traditional celebration, story telling the entire Nativity, from the Annunciation to the Massacre of the Innocents using scriptural texts of both Luke and Matthew, and a verse rendering. It's something I've not thought of in the context of a Parish Eucharist before, but it certainnly worked, and mad me think how I might do the same if I find myself with a free hand in organising liturgy on the Sunday closest to Christmas Eve. Afterwards I chatted with a Pakistani Christian woman whose asylum request had been granted. When we talked last year, she was still waiting. Now she was relaxed and joyous. I thought of Hamid, whom I baptized in St German's the other side of Christmas two years ago, deported back to Rawlpindi eighteen months later, finding reconciliation with his Muslim family an impossible struggle at this point in time.

He now lives a good distance across the city from a church. Will he be able to join others in worship there? Possibly not, just isolated and vulnerable in a hard traditional social setting where he no longer feels at home, but is rather, at risk now, thanks to the ill-informed decisions of Her Majesty's Government and judiciary who are less well informed about traditional orthodox Christian belief and practice than should be the case.

I returned from church, refreshed and consoled by meeting and greeting with so many old friends to whom I had already sent cards and emails. No need to explain to anyone what I've been doing since we last met! After lunch, I started packing, both for my journey to Kenilworth tomorrow morning, and separately for my Swiss locum duty travel next Friday. It takes the pressure off me, when I get back home with only 24 hours to spare before heading out again. Perhaps I am taking on too much, not giving myself enough time to recover these days. I certainly seem to take longer to prepare and recover from being away.

It's a consequence, I guess, of getting old, needing to have everything in order and well prepared to avoid the demands of spontaneous organisation, which I think I was quite good at when I was younger, unless I've frogtten how chaotic I really was. Or perhaps my standards are now higher. Once, I could pack a bag successfully and leave the country with an evening of effort. Now I need a day, if not longer. It is all this digital connectivity, taking up so much extra time, to keep life flowing evenly, without dislocation?

Christmas ease

Christmas morning is usually a struggle against tiredness to get started after several busy days and short night's sleep, but with a ten o'clock Mass with carols at St German's this morning, I rose just before nine, fresh and relaxed, and was on my way there in good time,

There were fifteen of us for the service including a lady from London who was staying at the Holland House Hotel on a holiday excursion, ten minutes walk away from church. The occasion was made memorable due to the Advent wreath catching fire just as the Eucharistic prayer began. As people rose in response to the crisis and the fire extinguisher was retrieved from next to the crib, I stopped at the end of the common Preface, continuing as soon as the blaze was subdued. Luckily the stand with the wreath on was not in a place from which fire could have easily spread elsewhere. One thing I did learn however was how easily 'oasis' blocks used by flower arrangers can melt down under the influence of a candle flame.

I was back home again by half past eleven, before Clare and Owain arrived from St Catherine's, and got on with preparing vegetables for cooking. Owain took charge of roasting the goose, and Clare master minded the table arrangements, starter and pudding. We were eating lunch by just after two, in a leisurely way, and then opened presents around the Christmas tree whose candles we forgot to light. A rather strange thing, but then it was a little strange just being three of us instead of the whole family. We Skyped Rachel in Arizona, then Kath, Anto and Rhiannon, spending Christmas day with Anto's sister Viv in Northampton. 

Later we watched 'The desolation of Smaug' in the movie trilogy based on J R R Tolkein's 'The Hobbit'. It was an interesting portrayal of the story, but to my mind there was too much spectacular violence the scenes of elves and dwarfs battling with orcs. It served no purpose other than to lengthen an already long film, and inflate the income of CGI designers and programme.

       

Cardiff Christmas Eve

A quiet day of preparation, writing the third of my Christmas sermons and printing them off ready. But I still hadn't got something special to give to Clare instead of that new phone. After lunch I went hunting in town, and found something I was happy enough to give. It was a great relief. The mood on the street was quietly cheery. It's the two 'black' Fridays before Christmas when the office and works parties take place and the streets are a sea of inebriation.

I called into St John city Parish Church, hoping to greet Sarah the Vicar, but she was occupied with a congregation in a German carol service - a very nice touch indeed, considering that streets around St John's are occupied by the stalls of a German style Christmas market. The public address system along Working Street, where there are are series of bars and eateries, was pumping out jazzy versions of Christmas pop songs. I couldn't resist singing aloud as a strolled through. 

On Castle Street, a dad was taking a photo of his two kids flanking Cardiff's post box painted gold in honour of our local Olympic winner. I paused until the snap was completed, to smile at the kids, and hear the mum speak French to her husband. Probably having a holiday break with us in Cardiff. This prompted me to wish them "Bonne fête de Noel' as I went on my way, feeling glad that we're so much a European city nowadays, something which Brexit politics and mindset will not be able to take away.

There were just over thirty of us for the six o'clock Vigil Mass at St German's. In a moment's distraction I succeeded in reading the Gospel for Advent four - the Matthean birth narrative, instead of one of the stories from Luke or from John's Prologue. I realised not long after I'd started, but decided just to keep going to the end. It was embarrassing because the correct reading was on the service sheet in people's hands, and I was reading from the Gospel book. It only took a moment to explain that the mistake made didn't mean the lesson had to be re-read, as my sermon involved working through the story meant to be read and making points about it. I wasn't on my best form. After the Eucharistic Prayer, I performed the Fraction (Breaking of the Bread) before instead of after the Lord Prayer - the way it's done in the old Church in Wales 1984 - not what I was using!

At the end, I learned from an older woman who has started attending in the past few months, and on this occasion was accompanied by her daughter, that they come from Albania. I didn't ask if she was Orthodox or Roman Catholic, but having recently learned that the roots of the seemingly obscure Albanian language are in ancient Greek, I wished her happy Christmas in (modern) Greek, and drew a smile. I love their natural and un-selfconscious expressions of piety. She's evidently comfortable in St German's, where nobody stares at you for expressing love for God, even if a majority express themselves in a reserved manner, apart from exuberant singing and smiling.

The roads were empty as I drove home, shops were shut and many of the pubs and club it seems were quiet or closing early as well. Urban bliss now, as the place exhausts itself of festivity after a couple of months of marketed anticipation. Owain had arrived by the time I got home, and there was enough time for supper together, and a little relaxation before returning to St German's by eleven for Midnight Mass. Again, we were just over thirty people, enthusiastically embracing the moment. This time, despite the hour, my concentration held throughout, and there were no more errors.

I drove home just after one, listening to the end of Midnight Mass on Radio Four. The house was quiet, Clare and Owain, already asleep. I mulled some wine for a nightcap, but had to settle for a chocolate biscuits, as there were no mince pies out. They were still hidden in the depths of the freezer. These days Santa has no need to call at Meadow Street.

Advent giving way to Christmas

Father Mark our Vicar asked me if I'd stand in for him at this morning's 10.30am Eucharist at St John's, which I was happy to do, and to stop for a chat and a cuppa after the service. Best of all, I was able to buy some jars of home made marmalade, from the church's permanent fund raising stall, as our stocks ran out months ago. Our local greengrocer says he expects his annual import of bitter organic oranges from a supplier near Seville, to arrive just after Christmas. Last year, we were late buying, so stocks were nearly finished, hence we were unable to make a year's supply in one go.

It was too dreary and wet to venture out for an afternoon walk, so I made an effort to make a digital card to accompany the annual newsletter, which will go out by email to another fifty people in addition to the cards posted yesterday. I found an icon of the Nativity I liked, and some words from an Orthodox hymn that matched it.

After an early supper we drove out to Russell and Jacquie's house in Dinas Powis for their annual Christmas soiree of readings, and carols around a candle-lit tree, reflecting on the meaning of the incornation. It was a gathering mainly of well behaved careful adults, so with the usual precautions, the tree posed a minimal health and safety risk to participants. The main risk was from over indulging in delicious treats provided afterwards. About twenty people came, most of them associated with Cardiff Steiner school in various ways, many of them old friends. It was an enjoyable evening, rather more thoughtful than the average Christmas party, I'm glad to say.
    

Christmas at home

I was glad to have Tuesday without commitments to do some last minute shopping. This meant Rachel and I could drive over to Bristol to visit Amanda, exchange Christmas gifts on Christmas Eve, and to catch up with her, as I haven't seen her since summer, when she was last in hospital. She fights against growing disability with impressive courage and creativeness, working with her carers on baking and jam-making. All the presents she'd prepared for the rest of the family she'd made herself. Such admirable spirit!

When Amanda's carer arrived, we headed for home, a late lunch, and then for me, completing a sermon for Midnight Mass. Owain arrived for supper and a relaxed evening before I drove out to Tongwynlais on deserted roads, to celebrate for a congregation of three dozen. Last time I was here, I was hearing Phil one of my students, preach. I also did locum duties here during the last interregnum, three years ago. How time flies!

It was good to be back in a familiar place with familiar faces, and hear the scriptures read by people with South Wales accents not too dissimilar from my own. For me, this is a profound part of what it means to celebrate Christmas at home.

It was strange to awaken relatively late this morning, without the excited voices of children discovering their gifts from Santa, but this year Jasmine is with her father. Rachel, Owain, Clare and I went to the Eucharist at Catherine's, and enjoyed a good carol sing together, before preparing Christmas dinner together - well, my share was preparing the sprouts and washing lots of pans and dishes. Owain took the lead, making sauce based on a reduction of red wine with plum jam to accompany roast duck for a change, plus venison sausages with all the usual family veggie delights including nut roast, followed by glorious Christmas pudding.

Before the sun set, we quit the table and walked around Llandaff Fields. One of my presents from last year was a boxed set of 'Superman' movie videos, from Rachel. Sadly, I've never had enough idle time to consider spending three hours watching them, but with no children to feed, play with or put to bed, we could all sit down and watch the first of the series together. It was good fun, and especially for Rachel a reminder of a childhood family outing to watch this particular movie - not that any of us could actually recall the first fifteen minutes of the film describing Superman's origins on planet Krypton.

It's a superbly crafted movie, but it's funny how differently one interprets it, some thirty five years later on, at the time of year when we sing. 'He came down to earth from heaven...' Superman is a heroic saviour figure, powerful, honourable, decent, upholding western democracy against criminal enemies, yet vulnerable (like Samson) to those who know the secret of his weakness. Sometimes he suffers, it's true, but it's never terminal. It's an intriguing fugue on the incarnation/redemption theme, proving how many thoughtful creatives simply don't get the great mystery of the incarnation.