Carnival Band with Maddy Prior at Brum Town Hall

After breakfast I drove to St German's to celebrate Mass with four others then returned to collect Clare and set off for Kenilworth at eleven thirty. The roads weren't too busy, and we arrived at two for a giant bowl of creamy vegetable soup, perfect for a winter's day. Then Kath drove us right into Birmingham city centre, to hunt for a car park within easy reach of the Town Hall, where this evening's Carnival Band was going to take place. For a while it was a game of 'hunt the car park' with so many diversions and closures, as road layouts are being revised yet again, aiming to force people out of cars on to public transport. Many central streets are already pedestrianised, and at this time of year given over to a German style Christmas Market four times the size of the one in Cardiff city centre.

Once Kath had found the right car park, we were only five minutes walk from the Town Hall, but a chilly downpour of rain began as we left car park cover and then continued a drizzle for nearly an hour. Kath and Clare vanished through the stage door, leaving me to fend for myself until the front of house doors opened two hours later. I sheltered under building overhangs for a while and then walked the length of the Market which stretched down New Street as far as St Martin's in the Bullring, everywhere brightly lit with festive decorations, and whilst St Martin's was externally lit up and decorated, no light shone from within the church itself, in stark contrast to the neighbouring shopping centre, just like St John's City Parish Church in Cardiff. A social anthropologist would be forgiven for thinking that the message being conveyed here is 'church gone out of business'.

People arriving for the concert without covid passes were being given a lateral flow test in the lobby. I did mine in any case before leaving this morning, and showed evidence of this plus my covid pass when presenting my duplicate ticket. Therein lies a story.

Clare had given me a paper ticket too big to fit into my wallet many moons ago, so it got pinned to the notice board along with all the NHS appointment letters, and thereafter forgotten by me. Paper tickets for things booked on line are a rarity these days, so much is now done digitally. So it was only after we arrived in Brum  that I realised. Quick witted as ever, Clare rang Sarah our neighbour and asked her to use her duplicate key to retrieve the ticket, photograph it, and email me the picture. This also gave me the seat number. Furnished with this information, I was able to go to the box office and ask if they could accept the digital evidence of being a ticket holder. They did better than that, issuing me a duplicate.

After the rehearsal we went for a drink and a snack in a New Street coffee house before taking our seats. The concert hall was a third full, Kath reckoned. The Carnival Band Community Choir sang four carols in the middle of the second half and returned for an encore at the end. This year Maddy Prior sang with the band, and all performed superbly a wide range of British and European carols and songs with their array of folk instruments, including two kinds of bagpipe, shawms, clarinet, cittern, guitar, fiddle, drums and double bass played with a bow and producing a fat sound. Some songs had satirical contemporary verse updates about abolishing Christmas, then and now, and a Health and Safety vetted Nativity. Such great fun. We got back to Kenilworth at eleven and then had sandwiches and a drink of wine before bed, exhausted at half past midnight. Quite a demanding day, but worthwhile good festal fun anyway.

Sports ministry

I attended the Eucharist at St John's yesterday morning, and walking there noticed that I had a spring in my step, walking with less discomfort than before my podiatrist visit yesterday. In the evening I had a Eulogy to finish and a service to prepare for tomorrow, plus a sermon to write for St Saviour and St Germans on Sunday.

I had a funeral in Pidgeon's chapel just after lunch. One of the mourners approached me afterwards and expressed appreciation for the way I had taken the service. Then he told me that he was Chaplain to Cardiff City F.C. and a regional representative for the UK organisation 'Christians in Sport', we had a brief interesting conversation about his ministry among fans, players and staff alike. Apparently the UK has 750 sports chaplains. It's one of the ways in which sector ministry is exercised today, even if many chaplains are volunteers and few are paid.

Clare left the house at the same time as me for a train trip to Worcester, to stay overnight with Gail, and attend a Carnival Band rehearsal tomorrow. I had a good long walk over six miles as the sun was setting. The last sliver of the old moon was visible over a clear blue twilight horizon from Pontcanna Fields, exquisite.

A disappointing setback

Last night was distressingly painful as the new wound opened further as I sat updating my blog, and then discharged even more when I came to get ready for bed. I wasn't sure how to handle this sudden change and phoned NHS Direct. Shortly after midnight I was put through to a nurse practitioner who quizzed me thoroughly before reassuring me that I was doing the right things, and visit my GP as soon as I could.

I slept badly, the way you do on a dreaded long haul overnight flight, and Clare very kindly went to the surgery and secured an appointment for me. The time clashed with my arrangement to say Mass at St John's for Fr Mark. He'd delivered his set of keys yesterday evening, and at five o'clock, I had one of those 'what if?' moments and emailed him to say I wasn't sure I could make it - which turned out to be precisely correct. Clare delivered the keys back to  the Rectory after visiting the surgery, while I slowly got up and got ready to appear in person. It was raining, but I felt better for being out in the fresh air. 

Having taken note of my vital signs, she saw that the surgeon's letter of response to GPs concern expressed, offering me an appointment, was already readable on the medical network. The surgery, like me, has yet to receive a paper copy. The doctor suggested a third visit of this week to the UHW Surgical Assessment unit. I explained it would possibly entail a long waiting time when I would unless I got lucky be obliged to sit in discomfort on a hard waiting room chair. My vital signs would be recorded again, it would be explained to me yet again that emergency surgery wasn't preferable to an operation planned to deal with the complexity of the problem. In their general terms of reference, despite the pain and stress I'm coping with, it's not sufficiently life threatening enough to warrant a 'quick 'n dirty' response. I just have to keep living with this and coping.

Anyway, she was quite understanding of this and prescribed for me another course of 'deep tissue' antibiotics which seemed to make a difference last time around. The nature of the new wound makes me more at risk of infection, so this is a preventative measure, that will hopefully see me through Christmas and New Year. I was advised it'd be unwise for me to travel with Clare up to Cheltenham for this evening's Carnival Band concert, in which she is singing with a scratch choir. I've hear her practicing her parts daily for the past three months. So sad not to hear it all come together. We had an overnight hotel stay booked as well, which would have given us an opportunity to look around and do some shopping before the return journey. Kath will be there to hear the concert, but I have to languish here and try not to feel too sorry for myself.

Encouraging signs

Clare went off to catch a train to Worcester yesterday afternoon, where she's staying overnight with Gail, then going with her to a community choir rehearsal in Cheltenham for a 'Carols and Capers' concert with folk rock ensemble Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band on 20th December. She came home two hours later, having discovered when she rang up to warn Gail of a delayed train that the rehearsal is Sunday afternoon. Somehow she'd booked it into her diary wrongly, ages ago.

The past few days have passed quietly, with walks to the shops and one around Pontcanna Fields, and another around Thompson's Park and Llandaff Fields, going twice my recent usual distance. This past few months, I've kept walking most days, though without making much extra effort, going only as far as I've felt inclined to, or comfortable with, in the light of my discomfort level. My recent daily bout of inflammation has diminished noticeably, judging by the frequency of dressing changes. This contributes to 'feeling better', as it means less tricky exertion and physical contortion to perform this task. Perhaps I'm a bit more skilled at doing this, and not so distressed at doing this, now I have developed an effective disciplined routine. One way or another, I believe more exercise does me good.

This evening, I watched the second part of the Gladbeck Hostage crisis, even though I'd read about its tragic ending. Presuming it faithfully represented the behaviour of mass media journalists and cameramen at the time, it really was shocking compared to nowadays, with complete disregard for Health and Safety, let alone competent handling of the public security situation. Mind you, today the burden risk taking on the part of photographers is much more widely spread with so many members of the public using their camera phones to capture film footage at close hand even before the media people are on the scene. The risks are higher too, as murderously minded criminals and hostage takers seem much more willing to kill or injure anyone recording or obstructing their evil deeds.

I wonder how we'll look back on this in thirty years from now? Bother, I'm unlikely to be here to find out. But so far, I haven't lost interest, neither has my sister June, who says much the same about taking an interest in all that's going on, despite ailments and complaints, she's up to speed with much that's going on in the news, via LBC Radio and TV programmes.