Non Bank Holiday

Another fine mild day for a bank holiday. Not that we can go anywhere. Clare's back pain hasn't abated so she needs to rest a lot in between gentle walks, and avoid lifting and physical exertion. At her request, I mowed the lawn, a chore she usually enjoys. Then I finished this week's Morning Prayer video upload and prepared tomorrow's funeral service before cooking lunch, 

The park was relatively quiet when I went out for a walk afterwards, except for four volleyball games side by side on the grass overlooking Penhill Road. Many families will have headed to a beach today. In the past week there's been a surge of bluebells in patches all around the unkempt periphery of the park and in the woodland patches. I also saw the first patches of wild garlic emerge in the undergrowth along the Taff. Spring is well established now, a little earlier than usual, I think. When I returned from my walk, I slept for an hour and a half yet again. I seem to be sleeping excessively, but at least I find the siesta refreshing, if time squandering.

The Russian military states that it launched three hundred missile attacks on critical infrastructure and Ukrainian cities today, a prelude to its offensive on the Donbass region. Five million Ukrainians are now said to have left the country, fleeing indiscriminate attacks on civilians in cities all over the country. As a result of economic sanctions, tens of thousands of people in Moscow have lost their jobs and it's possible that number could rise to two hundred thousand. How will Putin explain this away when impoverishment of the middle class elites generates unrest above and beyond what state security can cope with? In the meanwhile the genocidal assault on Ukraine will cost many thousands of lives before unrest in Moscow has any impact on current policy and strategy. It's heart-breaking.

I watched the last episode of NCIS season 18 tonight, with some tantalising indicators of changes in the storyline and personnel to come in season 19. I don't suppose this will appear on UK TV until the autumn, if not next year.

Mistaken or not?

Another day of beautiful weather, with some cleaning to do after breakfast, then completing this week's Morning Prayer video, the longest one I've done so far, because of the length of the Genesis reading used. I walked over to Pidgeon's for a ride in the hearse to the funeral I was taking at lunchtime. We visited the house in Cathays where the lady who'd died lived for over sixty years, then drove from there to the crem on a back street route, which seemed to take ages. It's a long time since I did this,

After the service, a lady who had attended the service approached me and said she recognised me as the priest who had christened a couple of her children twenty five years ago at St Teilo's Church. At that time I was still in Geneva, so I think she may have been mistaken, unless she got the timing of the years wrong, since my ministry in Central Cardiff Benefice didn't start until the autumn of 2001.

I cooked a chicken dish for lunch when I returned, to go with the veggies Clare prepared, conveniently enough to last two days. After a visit to the bank, I sat with Clare for a while and joined in a Facetime call with Saralee in Seattle. Then I made my way to St German's with two buses, and got there just in time for Stations of the Cross and Mass. Heather gave me a lift as far as Canton Cross on the way back after the service, so I got back in time to listen to 'The Archers' on catch-up and then watched this week's NCIS series 18 new episode before turning in for the night.

Still no breakthrough in halting the terrible Ukraine conflict, though there is speculation on preparations for direct negotiations between Zelensky and Putin, although speculation seems to be about both parties modifying their established positions or their willingness to do so. Pigs might fly too.

After the weekend storms

Clare went to town for a swim early this morning again. She had to walk back as bus services from outside the gym in Greyfriars Road had been suspended. I went out after breakfast to inspect the river. The water is still flowing over the top of the fish ladder, but along the footpath by the bridge was a tide mark of sand and pieces of broken branches showing how much water level dropped in the past fifteen hours. Work on clearing river banks and river bed last year has certainly paid off.

On the return walk past the newly refurbished playground on Llandaff Fields it was good to see how busy it was with children enjoying the newly installed apparatus on their half term school holiday, despite the blustery cold weather. Then I noticed the sound of a chainsaw buzzing somewhere in the distance. When I walked down towards Cafe Castan, I found the road into the car park was blocked by huge branches torn from two of the roadside trees. The area was cordoned off and a team of tree surgeons was busy at work. One very tall tree had lost a major tall branch, which fell on to another tree and torn branches from it. In spite of the cold wind, I hung around for ten minutes and got some interesting photos of work in progress.

A tree surgeon was interviewed earlier on the Radio Four's Today programme and spoke about how safe tree removal called for people experienced in tackling dangerously unstable heavy pieces of timber. This made it particularly interesting to observe how the man with the chainsaw went about dislodging the huge fallen branch  from its precarious position. I caught it as it was dropping, just before it hit the ground.

Back home then, to do my weekly share of the cleaning and cook mussels with rice and veg for lunch. I needed to go to the shops in Canton in the afternoon, so completed my daily round of walking in the street for a change.

In the evening I did some more negative scanning. This time the photos were of a big family gathering for Eddy's 60th birthday in 2000. Eddy and Ann were only recently grandparents at that time, we had to wait another two years before Rhiannon was born, and this week we go up to Kenilworth to celebrate her eighteenth. Last week I found and digitized Owain's 18th and 21 birthday photos. So much to enjoy looking back on over the years.

I finished in time for another season 18 episode of NCIS tonight, another made in covid times, notably with references to being double jabbed, and some contemptuous references to conspiracy theorists. Well 'on message' as they say. Bed early tonight, for an early start tomorrow with a nine o'clock appointment in the eye clinic of St Joseph's hospital in Malpas, with eye surgeon Andrew.

Choose your cultural hero

After breakfast I rang the School of Optometry to request an email copy of my eye surgery referral letter from Ceri the senior optician. Unfortunately, she has contracted covid and is off work this week. I was promised someone would investigate and see if it's possible to respond to my request. I wonder if anyone will?

Disappointing that today, such emphasis is given to the Roman priest martyr Valentine for religious and romantic reasons, when today is also the feast of Saints Kyril and Methodius, apostles to the Slavs whose work rendered the Slavonic language into a written form with an alphabet invented by Kyril, to form the basis of a translation of the bible and then the Byzantine LIturgy in the ninth century. For this reason, the two are regarded as cultural heroes in Russia and Eastern Europe. As their careers started in Rome, their memorial if not their actual tombs is in the Roman basilica of San Clemente. Russia and Ukraine both use cyrillic script yet here these countries are at the moment, on the brink of war, if geopolitical news reports are true. Ukraine may well look as much to the West as it does to Russia, but historically and spiritually a common language, literature and spirituality binds them together. Yet there seems to be little recognition of this in the way things ae viewed by the watching world.

At least today we had some breaks in the cloud and sunny periods in a week of promised deluges. While starting the weekly rounf of housework, Clare discovered that the steam mop for floor cleaning had died and needs replacement. After doing my stint of carpet hoovering I walked into town to buy a replacement, but had no success. I also bought a train ticket for a trip to London tomorrow to see my sister June. An off peak ticket in both directions plus tube fares costs only ten quid more than the price of petrol for the trip, as fuel prices have risen so steeply of late. It's worth paying extra for the speed and comfort of travel. I can't remember when I last drove to London to see June, maybe it was more than a decade ago. Amazing to think that thirty five years ago I'd commute to USPG HQ once a month.

I was late back for lunch, but Clare kept me a generous portion of lentil curry with brown rice. Afterward, I went out and bought some Valentine's day tulips for Clare, half of them still in bud, so they should last until the weekend. I had an email from Mthr Frances assigning me to a Good Friday midday service at St John's. It will be with a congregation but may also be live streamed, subject to Andrew's availability. He's the parish video streaming wizard. I need to check with him. If he's unable to be there, I have the idea of rendering the full service as an audio slide video scheduled to appear on social media at the time the church service takes place. 

Some ideas about a sequence of Passiontide biblical reflections was already been brewing in my mind from a few notes made the other day. When I started writing, the whole structure of the service emerged to go with the theme. Now I can enjoy taking my time to develop it to fruition.

After supper, a wonderful hour of Winter Olymic ice dancing and ski aerobatics to watch on telly before this week's new NCIS episode. It's the first one made during the pandemic years to reflect the ethos of the pandemic, and it is revealed that in the early days, Jimmy the NCIS Medical Examiner has lost his wife to covid without being able to say goodbye to her in person. There's an interesting  crime detection story told, but the sensitively shared experience of bereavement is what distinguishes this episode, and one in which Gibbs speaks in a new way about his own experience of bearing grief over the past thirty years, something he has hardly ever done before. Timely and impressive as fictional realism goes.

Back on the buses

The sun shone again for most of the day, and it was warm. I had an uncomfortable night and felt as if I was jet-lagged. Maybe a delayed after effect of the anaesthetic? My head only cleared properly after a spell of exercise in the afternoon.

As I'm still feeling cautious about driving, I took a 17 bus from Cowbridge Road East to Glanely to meet Jan for a briefing on taking services there. I should have taken the 18, bus that goes there from town on an anti-clockwise route from Glanely to Caerau and back, as the journey is ten minutes shorter than the 17 which goes clockwise via Caerau to Glanely. Lesson learned. Ten minutes extra of very bumpy ride at speed, or so it feels. We talked for over an hour and a half. 

By the time I got home, Clare had been for a hospital appointment, returned and cooked lunch, which I expected to do. But tben Jan and I did have a lot of catching up to do, more than we can ever achieve when I meet her and Peter walking their dogs out in the park. She's all bubbling with happiness because her fabulous 'La sistema' youth orchestra project has continued to develop and recruit new teachers during lock-down, and now socially spaced rehearsals can resume. Just wonderful!

In ten days, I'm doing a funeral at the Res, which is partly why I went for a briefing. After lunch and a siesta, I called the chief mourner of the bereaved family and arranged to meet with them on Thursday morning. Then at five I started making my way to St German's by bus to celebrate their six o'clock Mass. I missed the 61, walked to Canton Cross and mistakenly got on a number one that goes to the city centre via the Bay taking much too long for me. I got off it in Grangetown, and picked up a ninety two that got me to the bottom of St Mary Street, then from outside the New Library, a third bus to Pengam Green that dropped me off by the Old Infirmary, five minutes walk from St Germans's, so I got there in time by five to six. Nobody would have guessed at how convoluted and haphazard my journey had been!

After celebrating with three others, I took an X59 bus from Newport Road to Dumfries Place and walked there rest of the way home across Bute Park and up the west bank of the Taff, and got back by half past seven.. For cross-town journeys, to St Germans, I'll be glad when I can use the car comrfotably again, less hassle and safer than some of the buses. There's always a minority that won't wear a mask or don't wear one correctly, ignoring the resentment of other passengers, ignored by despairing drivers, who try their best to get passengers to comply with safety rules. The bigger the bus the more likely, it seems to me, there'll be a few flouting the law insouciantly.

After supper, we watched the end of a seven year old episode of 'Fake or Fortune', then this week's NCIS new screening of a series 18 episode. Then it was time to turn in. But it's still hard to get to bed before midnight.