Hard rehearsal

This morning after breakfast, I took Clare to her eye appointment at the Heath Hospital, and then worked on completing this week's Morning Prayer video. When she returned, we drove to Lidl's  in Llandaff North where she'd seen a DAB kitchen radio designed to fit under a shelf or a wall cabinet. We had one in place next to the cooker for many years. It was quality and hard to tune if it lost power, but served its purpose. There were several in stock and it was just the right shape, so we bought one, and did most of this week's grocery shopping as well. Fitting the radio is the next task, one which Clare is keen to do herself, so she's satisfied it's done right. 

Ruth's weekly email arrived with next week's texts to work on, so I prepared them, recorded and edited the Office. Later I wrote an accompanying biblical reflection, as well, then cooked butter beans in a sauce with pasta for lunch.  

I walked several laps around Thompsons' park listening to a recording on my phone of the 14th century plainsong version of 'O Virgo Splendens' repeatedly. I find it very tricky to memorise correctly, which is vital in a vocal ensemble of eight people. It doesn't seem to stick as well as the other pieces we're doing, but I must persist so I don't make a mess of it on the day. Our first performance is next Sunday evening in St Illtud's Llantwit Major.

Then, an early supper, as we had a choir rehearsal in Saint Catherine's at half past six. It was demanding on concentration and stamina, but Anna our choir director seemed fairly satisfied with the result. Mother Frances is singing with us, and afterwards she signed the verification paperwork for the documents needed to confirm who I am to the Euro diocese safeguarding people. These now have to be scanned and sent, to expedite matters with the paperwork mailed later, I suppose. In a couple of months I'll have to go through this process all over again for the Church in Wales' safeguarding process. Frances is a naturally diligent person, but I think she shares my distaste for this 'prove who you are' business in a community where the pastoral watchwords are 'know and be known'.

I've volunteered to take the eight o'clock Communion again on Sunday. Rota arrangements haven't yet taken into account the resumption of this once monthly traditional Sunday act of worship, attended by about ten people, so Frances doesn't have the support of Rhys next Sunday and would otherwise have to take three services and rush around far too much. I'm so happy to be fit and well enough to be in a position to offer to do this nowadays.

I recorded and edited the biblical Reflection when we got back from church, and went out for a breath of fresh cold night air, to stretch my legs at half past ten. Finally a DuoLingo Spanish session. The app is congratulating me for the length of my continued span of learned over the past six nearly seven years. IT says I'm among the top one percent of learners, and invited me to boast about this achievement on social media. I don't believe their stats and certainly wouldn't boast about it on social media. Such a silly idea, inviting all sorts of trolling and spam.

Null point

Yesterday, it was overcast again and rained all day, as it did during the night. It was late afternoon by the time I walked to Tesco's to get olives wine and baby shampoo for Clare. Then I walked to Blackweir Bridge, buffeted by the wind. The water was up by a metre since yesterday, over the top of the fish trap. Hardly anyone was out walking, though I did meet our neighbour Miriam from Bilbao who also walks daily. She said that the rain doesn't bother her, as it rains a great deal in her Basque homeland, just like it does here, I wish I could say the same. I miss the endless sun and blue skies of Andalucia, and long to return and spend time there again, whether for work or for leisure. Who knows when it will be possible?

It was a relief from frustration to wake up to sunshine this morning, albeit in a sky studded with cloud. After our ritual late lie-in and pancake breakfast I walked in the park for an hour before cooking lunch. It was only as I approached home again that it began to drizzle intermittently. More disappointment!

When I came to do my daily DuoLingo language drill, I was delighted to discover thirty new stories have been added to a list which already contains hundreds. Some stories are funny enough to raise a laugh, but their importance lies in the clever gradual insinuation of new grammatical constructions and words which change their meaning in different contexts. These can be hard to get your head around in except in the context they are used. Building up familiarity with these through simple dialogue and narrative works well to maintain interest and motivation in language comprehension and development.

By way of contrast, I'm still plodding my way through 'Winter in Madrid' an English spy novel in Spanish translation, thanks to Kath, who bought a copy at an airport bookshop in transit, and passed it on to me to read. It's a good translation which conveys well in Spanish the English ethos of the narrative. The price to be paid for this is the use of extensive Spanish vocabulary which is as rich in synonyms as English. It's not very demanding to make general sense of, but much recourse to the dictionary is needed to add colour to the story telling, which makes for slow reading of a somewhat slow uneventful story. 

I had two Spanish novela for my birthday, which will be easier to read eventually, but I'm determined to finish 'Invierno en Madrid' and hoping it'll help me to tackle other elements of Spanish literature. It's all a matter of time. Life seems quite busy these days, taking photos, exercising, blogging, language practice, following the news and church duties absorb so much time each day, that book reading gets neglected. I could do with another three hours per day, but could only achieve this by cutting down on sleep, which I'm reluctant to do, as only recently, due to the improving state of my open wound, that my sleep quality has improved, enhancing waking hours. How to get the balance right is the challenge.

Last year in Ibiza, the family held a WhatsApp Eurovision Song Contest fancy dress party as it was being broadcasted, a bit of wacky fun in a dark time. The contest was staged live from Rotterdam tonight, and for old time's sake we sat and watched. Well, I say watch, but for many of the performances flashing multi-coloured lights behind the performers were so intense that I couldn't watch. Total overkill. That was  the four hours of my life wasted that I'll never get back. Putting together a broadcast extravaganza on this scale with an audience of 3,000 plus hundreds of artists on stage given the still tight pandemic restrictions in force in the Netherlands was a colossal technical feat. Pity about the content.

Over-dramatic pauses during the announcement of the results, long video fill-ins between programme items, too much time spent watching performers lounging about waving at the camera in the 'green room' adding very little if anything to the programme. An indifferent Italian heavy metal band sang the winning song, with a massive popular vote surge springing a surprise almost at the end. Heavy metal music is popular in many former Soviet Bloc countries and Baltic nations, so that helps to explain the result.

Far superior were the two French language chansons from French and Swiss performers that took the two runners-up places. As for the rest of the two dozen songs, nothing memorable. For the second time in a row, the UK scored 'nul point' - a mediocre song badly sung by a nice guy. Given that Britain has some of the top internationally known groups and recording artists it's a bit strange that we've not had a Eurovision winner since 1997. I wonder if two successive 'nul point' scores isn't a reflection of how other people in other countries see things British post-brexit. Will questions be asked in the House of Commons?

Staycation round two, day twelve

My worries about getting the vital covid test were dispelled when had a 'phone call from the mobile test team member after breakfast (Saturday pancakes as usual), to brief me and give an approximate ETA. Two young women arrived at half past twelve, one in nursing and the other in paramedic uniform, both masked and gloved, with the one administering the test wearing a visor as well, and the other holding the necessary disposal bags. Taking the throat swab only took a few seconds, a couple of light touches with the probe either side of the epiglottis, then the disposable PPE kit bundled up into a doubled up bin bag for disposal with our household waste on Monday. Five minutes, all done, such a relief!

I then walked indoors for an hour, and another hour outdoors after lunch. Cold with a thin layer of cloud today with the sun struggling to shine through occasionally, and the sky clearing after dark. People are still letting off fireworks in our neighbourhood. As we are within earshot of the city's rugby, cricket and soccer stadiums (or is it stadia?) it's not so unusual for there to be fireworks after a game. I'm not sure why, three days after bonfire night, when there's nothing much to celebrate about being in lock-down.

When I was doing my daily Spanish language drill on Duo Lingo, one of the ads it served up was a short video about lock-down rules in Wales. I haven't seen it before. It's not unusual to have location specific ads pitched up in between lessons, but this is a very good public health notice - clear, simple, to the point with good graphics. Somebody in the Senedd government is earning their keep!

After completing the second walk of my day's walk, I spent the afternoon watching CNN news on-line, for signs of an end to the agonising wait to know the outcome of the US presidential election. The media don't wait to witness the final formal declaration of an outcome in any state or county, as this can take days if not weeks. There is a complex art to predicting a winner, and if the votes on both sides are evenly matched and it's not evidently a landslide victory, care is taken not to rely on the projection from observed trends until the conclusion is irresistible. 

This moment arrived at about half past four our time, with the results of one Philadelphia County among several replicated a sustained growth pattern which increased Joe Biden's lead, to the point where it could be relied on to say that the lead was irreversible. Then CNN, NBC and Fox News channels 'called' the election in Biden's favour. Trump had already stated that he would be making challenges against the conduct of the election in the most inflammatory way, denying the evidence, refusing to acknowledge the result. Instead he went out for a round of golf. Unprecedented behaviour for a head of state in a democratic country.

It wasn't long before crowds of people of all ages were dancing with joy in the streets in many parts of America, speaking of the end of a nightmare for their country and the revival of common decency in public discourse. Clare received an email from our friend Saralee, a Jewish Democrat activist  in Seattle headed 'Hallelujah! Thank the Buddha!' For her even more hard work lies ahead to repair the damage done to the country, and not only be the impacts of coronavirus and climate change. 

On CNN, one of a panel of four commenting on the results throughout the day, Van Jones an African American spoke spontaneously and movingly with tears in his eyes about what the result meant to him. To have a president determined to treat everyone as equals and reunite the nation, enabling him, his children and his community to walk tall and no longer feel that they are under threat, but respected as people with dignity. He gave voice to the feeling of oppression which many non-white citizens have experienced under Trump. It was painful to hear, and powerful, something I'll not forget in a hurry. 

As soon as Biden is inaugurated he intends to reverse Trump's decision to take America our of the Paris accord on climate change. Clearing climate change deniers appointed by Trump from the corridors of power will take him longer and be fraught with difficulty, but it will make a difference to countries all around the world for America to become part of the solution again, not part of the problem.

In the evening, I watched this evening's double episode of the Danish crimmie 'DNA'. Not exactly light relief, however, as it's all about stolen babies and child trafficking. More emotive stuff, and with a strong tinge of religion about it, partly set in a convent baby home. I good watch however, with subtitles, and dialogue switching between Danish, English, Polish and this week French. Interesting again to see how English is a second language many EC members have in common. 

Risky planning or planned risks?

I finished the sixth course of antibiotics this morning with a prayer that I won't need any more. It's hard to tell what difference this course has made right now, due to what the cold does to my head.  Once this goes completely away, I'll know from my blood pressure and how clear my head is whether it's worked.

There are signs that this wretched cold has done its worst. My nose wasn't streaming quite so heavily and I wasn't coughing as vehemently as I did yesterday. To my surprise however, any time I did cough was painful, not because of any soreness or inflammation in my lungs, but because every single muscle in my rib cage was stiff from the effort of coughing so much the day before. I felt as if I'd been in wrestling match and lost| It's a long time since I've had such a heavy streaming cold with so much coughing, there's no way to avoid stiffness in old, less used muscles. I was something unexpected and I'll have to live with it for a day or so, rest more, and cut down 20% on my daily walk.

It was a lovely autumnal day, a little on the cold side. The fresh air and sunshine did me good. Lounging in front of the telly all evening as I tend to at the moment does me little good, sitting for lengths of time generally ends up painfully uncomfortable, but I get fed up of spending so much time just lying down to recover if I'm tired. 

DuoLingo today pitched me an ad about the new NHS covid-19 tracking app for my phone. How public spirited! It was pleased not to have to hunt for this download, so recently launched, and now it's on my Blackberry. Saying that Cardiff is at a medium risk level from the virus.

As the second wave of contagion spreads around the U.K. as it has around much of the E.U. Cardiff and Swansea will now have travel and group meeting restrictions imposed this weekend, similar to those in force already in neighbouring local authority areas. But the app hasn't yet notified my of the coming change of risk level, only the news media. Just as well I'm not using the app to make plans for travel or work this weekend. I'm reminded of how NHS Wales took two days to email me instructions about self-quarantining, after my return from Ibiza. Two days for digital data to get from Heathrow Teminal 5 to Cardiff Bay and out to me. Two days in which, if I had been unwittingly infected, I could have sown chaos. I was in isolation four hours after landing, with a home run by car.

The new restrictions should have happened earlier in my opinion The authorities wait until evidence shows a critical growth pattern rather than cautiously anticipating the inevitable. Following the evidence when scrutiny reveals that on times evidence gathering contains inconsistencies, can rely delaying action. The track and trace system is at last improving, but not rapidly enough to keep up with demand generated by schools and colleges, as a growing number of localised outbreaks are reported daily. 

Much is been made of Universities welcoming the return of students. All that travel and socializing on arrival add to conditions promoting contagion. Such anxiety to resume a measure of normality, where caution would perhaps be more of a life saver. Of course on-line learning at every level all the time is hardly desirable, but wouldn't it have been better to avoid these institutional mass gatherings until real-time monitoring is actually working and in place?

Coming to Ibiza

Awake at seven, breakfasting at eight, out of the Dalt Murailla hotel by ten past nine. I walked down past the Palau Real de Almudaina to the Avenida d'Antoni Maura at shore level, intending to walk part of the way or pick up a bus or taxi to the Estacion Maritimo. Then the unexpected happened.

On a short stretch of curved slope which was covered with a thin invisible coating of something slippery which wasn't water, I went into an uncontrollable slide and ended up slowly, thankfully on the ground. One of my left quad muscles popped, but didn't tear, and I didn't twist my knee. Two kind gents picked me up and gingerly I walked away, but only fifty metres as I reached the nearest taxi rank. This put an end to my ambition to get some early exercise. Better safe than sorry, until I'm sure no damage has been done. A year of relentless daily walking added to body memory from ski slithers paid off in terms of muscle control and joint strength. For anyone my age not used to walking a lot it could have been disastrous.

The taxi dropped me at the Mediterraneo terminal. I escaped a long confusing walk, ending with the search for pedestrian access route! I was horrified to find the slower cheaper ship runs tomorrow not today. I must have read the web info incorrectly. Or was it a matter of leaving a day early, then not noticing the difference in sailing dates and times? The desk clerk sent me to the neighbouring Balearica terminal 200m away. I knew they do a daily sailing, but would I be in time to book a ticket? Yes, at 09.45, just.

The transfer coach arrived at 10.10 and took us on a circuitous route to the quayside where at 11.15 we left port. What a treat! A very modern 'greener' ferry running on LPG, with a giant gas fuel tank at the stern end of the ship behind the exhaust funnel - can't call it a smoke stack in these days of running on smokeless LPG. I can't imagine an entirely electrically driven ship though I can imagine reverting to sail-ships delivering mechanical power to batteries supplying electric motors, with the blades / paddles made of photo-voltaic cells. Complex to manage, costly to make but zero carbon foot-print on vessels ten, twenty times the size of an antique tea clipper. I bet solutions of this kind are already dreams being turned into reality, even if it takes a few years to see the light of day.

Anyway, a very pleasant clean and bright ferry with a deck of cabins and a couple of decks with comfy reclining seats, not to mention restaurants and bars, plus a couple of open deck areas of smokers and sun worshippers. I thought the crossing would be two hours, as that was what I found on internet booking sites, but it turned out to be three. There was easy access wifi, fifteen minutes for free and then pay as you go for business users. Interestingly, access to WhatsApp was free and available, so long as there was enough bandwidth. I think WhatsApp must get used pretty widely in this region. People involved in the Ibiza Chaplaincy also network with each other using WhatsApp. 

Cell-phone connectivity weakens away from shore in any case, so the entire ship's internet access is reliant on its direct satellite link, which has its data-flow limits with dozens of extra users on board, all presuming they can use on-line services ad-lib as usual on board, in addition to proper normal usage for ship's management purposes. On land or at sea there's never enough data capacity, so it seems. All this accounts for flaky connections, stuff that sometimes works and sometimes doesn't, and for messages which normally take second to transmit taking hours instead. Everything sits in a digital queue somewhere or another, God knows where. No short cuts.Just like the NHS really.

The ship seemed to get slower and slower as we cruised down the coast well before hitting eight knots for entering port to dock. It seemed that us few foot passengers were kept waiting an age to retrieve our luggage, and then had a quarter of a mile walk to the arrivals terminal, dragging cases. I could see Sarah out in the car park far away, walking into the terminal as I reached it from the other side. Within minutes, we were on our way out of Eizibissa town (the Catalan for Ibiza) north-west in the direction of Sant Antoni de Portmani. The chaplaincy house is located in an urbanzacion not far from the seaside town of La Cala de Bou. The Chaplaincy house is named Can Bou, which name as puzzled me for weeks, but now it can be revealed - the missing apostrophe on the maps.

In Catalan its Ca'n Bou i.e. Casa en Bou. I've seen this apostrophic contraction in written Catalan before, but forgotten about it until now. How nice to clear up a little mystery! The house is located out en el campo, it's a rural housing estate, heaven knows how big. The house has a basement level which I think is for community use, with Chaplain's accommodation above it, a blue shuttered casa blanca in meadow full of flowers by a wooded arroyo. The fridge and larder have been stocked and there was a meal ready for me to warm up later, thanks to Sarah. 

A workman was re-tiling the front steps as I arrived. As on several other very different occasions in the past few days I've had the confidence to chat in Spanish. I feel I really have reached a turning point, thanks to many hours spent on the Duo Lingo app daily during my long months of idleness. 

Once I'd unpacked and sorted myself out, I walked to the nearest shop named Es Cuco a kilometre away, on the hill above the road down into La Cala de Bou. It's a very well stocked food store, with fresh fruit and veg, bread, meat and wine, as well as the usual tinned foods. I was very impressed, and bought a few extra fresh items and some wine while I was there.

When I returned the gate to the finca was shut, and I presumed was locked by the workman when he left. In the absence of key, I climbed over the fence to reach the house. Only later did I learn that the gate was just jammed shut! After sunset, I felt I needed to stretch my legs again, and spent half an hour walking in the moonlight along un-metalled roads linking neighbouring fincas. The moon isn't full, but in the absence of artificial light away from towns and main roads, it shed enough light to cast a shadow. It was delightful magic!

Just after I got back, Ashley rang me, and it was a real pleasure to chat and tell the story of what has been for me an eventful day, a day, more than any other in which I feel more like the way I was back before my perianal abscess took over and began to dominate my life.

Thank God is all I can say, thank God!

  

Another funeral day

The proximity of today's two funerals made it impossible to keep my clinic appointment, but as I had time to spare before the first service at eleven, in St John's church near Riverside surgery, so I popped in to tell the duty nurse I needed to cancel, and re-book for tomorrow. I managed to get a brief word with her in between patients, but pressure of time meant I couldn't restock on medical supplies which ran down over the long weekend, so here's hoping I don't need an extra change overnight. I'm now at the stage of being able to go 18 hours unchanged without discomfort, a measure of improvement, but set-backs and accidents can happen, being prepared (the motto of the Boy Scouts as I was nurtured by that august organisation, growing up), is always essential. "Expect the unexpected", as Ashley is fond of saying.

I reached home from Thornhill Crematorium after the first funeral in time to cook and eat lunch, before being picked up for the second funeral, which was all held there. The majority of funerals I am engaged for are with Pidgeons, our local company based in the Parish, and by now I am well acquainted with most of their work teams. One familiar today was with a Penarth company I hadn't come across before, and the other with with a Rumney company, for whom I have done a handful of funerals since retirement. This means having to be on the alert in case they do anything unfamiliar. A small effort to make, to ensure no awkwardness mars the otherwise smooth procession of events.

In both cases the size of the coffin indicated that the dead men were heavyweights. It's not such an uncommon problem these days, and I feel for the men - and it is nearly all men - whose work it is to handle with respect such hefty bodies from deathbed to grave or incinerator. It seems that American companies are way ahead of British ones in the fitting of lifting technology to hearses and indeed to stretcher trolleys used. I wonder why the Americans call them 'gurneys' Although I suppose stretcher trolley is a pretty odd term too.

The rest of the day I spent watching in bed the last three episodes of 'Vanished by the Lake', making sure to relax and rest after the exertions of the day, which I think I coped with quite well. Listening to French movie dialogue seems to have become much easier to follow when I've been watching box set series this past few months. I wonder if this is a benefit of spending a year revising French using DuoLingo, even though I've stopped French now. It's not so much pronunciation, as turns of phrase that now seem easier to grasp, which at one time seemed a bit obscure to me, even though I spoke and was using French often. One way or another, despite the frustrations of French DuoLingo, it was worth the effort.
  

Coping with ups and downs

We celebrated Candlemass a day late at St Catherine's yesterday morning, with the blessing of candles. I walked straight to St David's hospital for a wound dressing change afterwards, then a made a quick trip to the shops before returning home for lunch.

After a siesta, we walked out on Llandaff Fields together before Clare turned back to get ready for a visit to Capel Salem for an evening service in Welsh with our friend Diana. I continued walking around Pontcanna Fields for another hour, enjoying the sunset birdsong, and still evening air, milder than the last few days.

After three fairly quiet days of wound comfort, I had a distressful set-back today, just when I needed it least, having to officiate at a big funeral in St John's, mid-morning, and had to cope with pain and discomfort from the start. It came in a seemingly random way. Clare thought it was nervousness on my part but that kind of physical distress coming unexpectedly triggers the familiar shock reaction, when there's impact on the vagus nerve. It's happened far less over the past six weeks, but it's still very disruptive. It made methodical preparation to leave for church rather difficult, but I was outside the house waiting to be picked up, only half an hour early - I'd entered a leaving time in my diary as if I was walking to St John's, not being collected. By the time chauffeur Paul arrived, my pulse rate was back to normal and the sense of panic was receding.

After that, everything proceeded in order, as planned. The church was full, and I had enough energy to guide people through the service in the best way possible, despite ongoing wound discomfort and pain. The funeral concluded at the Vale Crematorium. It's eighteen months since I was there last to attend Auntie Ivy's humanist funeral, and almost three years since I last officiated there.

Rather go on the busy main road to Barry, Paul took an old country road beyond Caerau to reach the crematorium, and on the return trip used a different one via Dinas Powys, rather than queue in traffic. It's no faster, as country lanes make for slow driving but it's much more pleasant. Paul used to work as a recovery truck driver covering South East Wales, so he knows the region's roads in detail, and has many stories to tell about situations he encountered in the course of work. He is one of Pidgeon's long standing employees and quite a character. Like the rest of them, he's utterly reliable.

In the afternoon, I went to the bank, then across to the river, and came back along the Taff Trail, as the sun was setting, walking for over an hour, needing to exercise despite the wound not yet calming down. I spent the evening half watching a crimmie on TV, while relentlessly doing language drills on DuoLingo to distract me from the pain and discomfort.

I can still say honestly that I'm having more good days than bad ones at the moment. I just hope the balance stays like this until the operation.