Storm Bert fills the Taff to overflowing

Rain in the night and lighter rain most of the morning flood warnings galore. Miserable. We went to Saint Catherine's for the Eucharist. With the Sunday school children, wearing paper crowns in honour of Christ the King at the end, we were over forty. Despite the weather yesterday's Christmas Fayre exceeded last year's revenue by more than ten percent. Hilary remarked on the number of older non churchgoing people from the neighbourhood, among those making the effort to attend the Fayre. It's a positive indication about the good will the church enjoys locally. 

After lunch, I took a brolly and my camera for a walk in the rain down to Blackweir. As expected after two days of continuous rain, often heavy was exceptionally high, high enough to break through the banks on both sides, flooding the fields. It was worse this time than when the fields last flooded, with water this time reaching up as far as the initial west side flood protection dyke where the ground level rises sharply by about a metre. The last time this happened on 17th Feb 2020, during storm 'Dennis'. I'm not sure without checking the photos I took then if it was as bad then. I need to check my photo archive. Then I walked up to the Western Avenue road bridge and there the water was spilling over on both sides of the river, and the Taff Trail was awash. 

Up until now remedial work on a few places on the banks and riverbed undertaken after the last big inundation have contained heavy flow pretty well. The volume of water and the speed at which it's being dumped by storm 'Bert' suggest a higher scale of magnitude, such as was seen recently in Valencia, on a much bigger scale given the size of the mountains and area of the watershed. I wonder what more can be done in the flood plain occupied by the city, to improve flood protection further? 

I got home just after sunset, a mile short of my daily target. I didn't want to get any wetter than I already was. In the evening we watched Antiques Road show, and then BBC's Young Jazz Musician of the Year. A brilliant and inspiring display of musicianship from competitors aged between 18 and 22. This year a new performance item was added to the programme, in which all four finalists performed a Charlie Parker tune which they'd learned to play together from scratch in the previous 48 hours. Such a joy!

Bill shock

More rain overnight but it had stopped by daybreak. I awoke at seven fifteen and posted today's Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp, then fell asleep again with the radio on after 'Thought for the Day' for another three quarters of an hour. I certainly needed the sleep. The after effects of the vaccine seem to have worn off now thankfully. Unusually, Clare woke up after me. I had breakfast on the table by the time she appeared. It's usually the other way round.

I walked to Tesco's for the weekly food-bank donation and then St John's for the Eucharist along with five others and Fr Colin. With Puddled roads and pavements, with drains blocked by uncleared leaves making it so much longer for the rain to empty away, it's hard to avoid getting wet feet from pavement puddles and wet trouser legs from cars passing faster than they should. Keeping the streets clean and safe seems to be no longer a concern for Cardiff Council.

A bank statement arrived just before I returned from church with a TalkTalk debit double the usual size, just a month after I reduced the bill by dispensing with unused paid extras, no longer strictly necessary with wi-fi calling and WhatsApp to reduce the monthly outlay of over fifty quid for phone and broadband. We now have to pay for outgoing landline calls, and whatever the tariff, it ends up expensive, as we've become so used to talking for up to an hour without thinking about what it cost since a fixed subscription covers all calls. A couple of years hence, our copper landline will be phased out anyway, so might as well get used to using the wi-fi calling set up now. I admit I forgot a few times initially, but most of the landline calls Clare made, as she'd not properly understood that she could use this with her mobile at home, instead of using the 4G network. My fault, I should have explained more clearly.

Clare cooked lunch, and while I reviewed yesterday's performance of 'Branwen:Dadeni' on my blog after identifying the cause for the phone bill price hike. After lunch an email arrived from Fr Colin with info about an Advent quiet day in Llangasty Retreat House to publicise. I converted the text into jpeg format in Open Office to include in Sway. After lunch, I finished my twelfth Mailchimp Sway link distribution and got it right first time. Pleased that I'd got the job done hassle free for a change.

It was pouring down by the time I was ready to go out for a walk. I had to put on my heavy rain gear to go out, and by the time I opened the door about four thirty, the rain had stopped, and didn't return until I was near home, an hour and a half later. The cloud was so low, it was semi-dark an hour before sunset. I went to Aldi's, and bought Clare a bottle of brandy, and a couple of bargain bottles of wine for myself to last me a week. The water level in the Taff is still up to the top of the fish ladder, but no higher, about meter below the top of the river bank each time I've passed by this week. We've not yet seen the volume of rainfall that caused the river to overflow on to the footpath, in January this year, back on 16th February 2020, when Pontcanna fields were flooded and much worse things happened higher upriver in Ponty and Taffs Well. 

Remedial river bank clearance work followed later in the spring. I wonder if additional work has been done on clearing riverbed stones this year, as water flowing over the weir doesn't shoot up into a foamy wave now impeding downriver flow as it used to. I spend the equivalent of half a day each week out in the park, and take an interest in any environmental changes that might overwhelm flood defences in times of a catastrophic weather event, even though we live nearly a mile away from the river. One thing I have noticed this year is that the pool just below the weir is frequented more often by Cormorants fishing for the elvers that hatch there. Some as yet unobserved change has improved breeding conditions. 

I wrote for an hour before supper after my shopping trip in the dark, and wrote more in the evening as well. Before turning in for the night, I watched the sixth and final episode of 'Payback' on ITVX catch-up in which the evil perpetrators got their comeuppance, and the surviving victim and her kids got to start a new life in a new place where they couldn't be found. A complex tale of crime and money laundering and the extraordinary lengths to which criminal financial experts will go to hide conversion of ill-gotten gains and invest in legitimate businesses and property, somewhat hard to follow on times, but worth watching.

Self emptying time

Another Saturday lie-in and pancakes for breakfast. Again, overcast with intermittent rain. Clare's new phone has started giving her trouble, with the SIM and SD occasionally not being recognised and then registering but leaving error messages. Is there something wrong with the way the cards are seated on the tiny flimsy tray on which they sit inside the phone, or is the contact fault something to do with phone itself? We can fiddle about with it - and it is fiddly because it's so small, and neither Clare's eyes nor mine are really good enough. 

Perhaps the cards themselves are worn at the edges and now a poor fit? It needs to be examined, which means taking it to a Currys store near us, to start with to get help. Phone shops are allowed to open, but the hours and procedures for engaging with them aren't normal. I had to dredge up the half a dozen emails sent to me from the time I ordered on-line until it was delivered on 5th January in order to find a helpline number, and the place to take the phone to get it looked at. It's the worst possible time, just when we're both so very reliant on using our phones to maintain all our regular contacts. Clare can re-instate her old phone, but that's a big hassle. It's taking her long enough to get used to a new one. 

We both found this mini crisis a distressing experience, exposing our digital dependency and helplessness when it comes to fixing anything that goes wrong. In years past, when all electronic systems were simpler, I learned how to fix lots of things. Now complexity and vendor lock-in makes it much harder, even down to finding the right path to obtaining a fix that won't violate the phone warranty.

I went out for a walk after lunch when the rain stopped for a while. The river Taff at Blackweir was almost up to path level again by the bridge, and huge volumes of spuming water tumbled loudly over the weir at great speed. It's been far wetter up in the Beacons than down on the coast, and there's more rain to come, so will the water rise another 15-30cm and flood the footpath and adjacent field overnight?

I met Jan and Peter watching the water while walking their dogs. Twice in one week? I asked Jan if she'd had any funerals delayed due to the Coroner's office not releasing the body in time, as I have this week with Wednesday's funeral postponed a second time. It seems from what she'd heard that there's a change in protocol involving coronavirus testing of all deaths referred to the Coroner, and this is bound to put extra pressure on the labs, already burdened with dealing with 'surge testing' in areas where new virus variants are detected. 

It's just as well the excess death rate is still dropping, or it would be impossible for the system to deal with the demand for funerals. Inevitably, families are having to wait longer to make arrangements because of the pandemic. Many local authorities have set up temporary mortuary facilities in industrial storage units to deal with the backlog. Public emergency management planning requires this, and municipal land earmarked for mass graves. At least we haven't got to the stage of needing to bury people in in this way, as happened in centuries past, and in some poor countries in our time, overwhelmed and unable to manage in any other way.  What we're going through is terrible, but it could be so much worse.

In one of my old notebooks, I started transcribing the travel journal I wrote when Clare and I visited Jordan in 1998. It's fascinating to make the trip again through my own words at the time. I digitized the photos I took a decade ago. Words fill in detain the photos missed.

This evening I came across a podcast on an American Jesuit website, geared to a young Catholic audience. Franciscan spiritual guide and teacher Fr Richard Rohr gave an hour long interview, in which he spoke of the different characteristics of Jesuit and Franciscan spiritualities, and about the observance of Lent. He makes the challenging observation that our Lenten efforts at self-mastery run the risk of nurturing the ego, rather than emulating Christ's own self-emptying. 

Letting go of everything, recognising and understanding our weaknesses and failures, transcending them rather than thinking we can master or suppress them is better for our spiritual health, he reckons. This stands the traditional 'spirit of discipline' on its head. It isn't by our own efforts that we can 'triumph over evil and grow in grace', but by saving grace alone. I loved it. Listening to this was just what I needed tonight, as I'm tired with watching telly programmes that are only mildly interesting or entertaining. 

Better safe than sorry

I woke up just the second time last night at half past six, and couldn't get off to sleep properly again afterwards. After Thought for the Day, I uploaded today's Morning Prayer without a hitch, then got up for breakfast, conscious of not having enough sleep. Often I doze off after praying, but not today. I've had an email from Emma at Eurodiocese HQ asking me to do the on-line stage two Safeguarding course, now a requirement for clergy with PTOs. I'm happy to do this, whether or not it ever becomes possible to do another spell of locum duty abroad. 

I'm conscious there are all sorts of low level abusive habits or tolerated practices persisting in the life of the church, some of them to do with bizarre kinds of piety, but others to do with changes in governance and management styles under the guise of coping with crisis. Clergy and lay leaders can be victims as well as perpetrators. I'll be interested to see if any of this is reflected in the stage two course.

This afternoon I walked up to Llandaff Weir for the first time since 22nd November. There's been so much rain over the past couple of months that the footpath and surroundings stayed waterlogged and muddy, treacherous to walk on. A photo I took that day shows a huge tree stump, roots trunk and remains of branches, lodged at the top of weir in the same position as it had been since last February's floods. I think it must have washed out of the river bank nearby, eroded by the storm water surge. I was curious to see if it was still stuck there after the more recent spell of heavy rain, and it wasn't. 

There was no sign of it among the entangled remnants of trees and bushes trapped by island reefs of pebbles that build up in the river bed. Could something that heavy, perhaps half a ton of wet wood, have been carried further down the river out of sight? Or was it necessary for the river management team finally to remove it, as even more wood washed downstream built up and impeded the water flow? I'll never know the answer, but it's clear that work has been done along the banks of the Taff to improve the outflow of flood water.

On the walk back I was pleased to find the Cathedral open to visitors. A dozen English Cathedrals are now closed to visitors and offering only on-line services, because of soaring infection rates. In Wales the rate of increase is showing signs of slowing, but numbers of infections are still high and rising. First Minister Mark Drakeford instigated partial lock-down in Wales before England did, and the measures have been tightened since. Shopper behaviour in supermarkets is being identified as a source of contagion, as well as indoor meetings of households, are now to be restricted. Wales was first then England followed, again.

In the evening I watched the fifth episode of 'Spiral' on iPlayer, having discovered that all ten episodes of this final series are already available to watch. It means I'm not tied to watching later on Saturday evening and ending up not having an early night before church.

Clare's recently been learning to play a 1950s jazz ballad 'Cry me a river'. Julie London's recording with the legendary electric jazz guitarist Barney Kessel and bassist Ray Leatherwood made it into the hit parade after it was performed in the epic Lil' Richard rock 'n roll movie 'The Girl can't help it' in 1956, the year I started grammar school. The song was written for Ella Fitzgerald to sing in a movie, but it was dropped from the story-line, and she sang it in an album of her own 1961. By that time it was a cover version of London's hit. I still remember the words off by heart. I found it on YouTube and played it to Clare this evening. She remembers them too. 

Summer Saturday in the park

A welcome return to blue sky and sunshine today, though the air has yet to warm up to expected summer temperatures. It took me a while to get going as physical tiredness from yesterday's trip to Bristol caught up with me, so it was a day of rest and inactivity apart from daily exercise. It was good for walking and good to see hundreds of people sitting out in the parks. Counting couples, over fifty groups of between two and fifteen gathered to socialise, drink together and eat barbecue food or picnic snacks . Three to four hundred people in all, I think. It's been like this every weekend for a while, says Clare. Few were wearing masks and not all were socially distancing. Far fewer people are going abroad for holidays this year, and hopefully rediscovering the pleasures of home turf. 

No doubt pub and restaurant closures have led to a big increase in the use of our city parks. As for beaches, I don't know, and we've yet to take advantage of the restriction of the five mile travel limit to visit the coast and look. Cafe Castan had a long queue of people outside for take away drinks and snacks, and Pontcanna Street Co-op had a queue outside as well, as it's closest to the park. No queues outside the deli 200m away at the bottom of the street, nor the other Co-op in King's Road. 

It's nice to see the parks so well used, except for the bags of rubbish around overflowing bins, if not discarded in situ. When the wind picks up unsecured emptied plastic shopping bags take to the air and roll over the greensward like tumbleweed until caught by bushes or some vigilant passer-by. In clearings along the river bank on the Bute Park, side groups of people occupy space and dip their feet in the water if it isn't running too fast. You can tell when it's rained in the Brecon Beacons, as next day the full length of the weir has turbid water running over it. Kids who on a normal summer's day would be up on Blackweir Bridge daring to jump off into the pool below, congregate at the side by the fish ladder and splash about in the water when the mood takes them.

In the evening I watched what I thought was the last episode of Non Uccidere. I thought ti was anti-climactic and slightly open ended, suggesting it will stretch to a third series. When I checked the IMDB website the second series was rated with twenty four episodes with the twelfth being screened last week. So it seems another dozen are yet to come, but not yet revealed on the 'Walter Presents' page. At this length it resembles a soap opera with one dominant lead character, backed by a credible hard working team that gets results, but we never really get to learn enough about them and their backgrounds.

The stories cover a range of complex sordid crimes with family issues running through two thirds of them relating to contemporary social issues touching on poor and rich families alike. One third of the episodes feature crime connected to a closed community - a convent and a monastery, both with rehabilitation as their mission, a new-age sect, and a military unit readying for deployment. An interesting set of observations on what goes wrong with close knit relationships in today's world.

Quarantine Cymru - day Thirteen

More rain, cloud and cold wind again today, and for the rest of this week it seems. At least it will keep some people from going to the beach or having outdoor parties, littering the environment and crowding in on each other in a risky way.

Nephew Jules emailed me a big zip file of photos of his mother to select from in composing a life story slide show for the end of my sister's funeral service. The Windows 10 app which edits videos can also be used to make MP4 video slideshows with photographs. It took me a while to work out how to use this in the absence of proper instructions, but I got there in the end.

It was interesting to discover that there are no photographs of Pauline as a baby. The first photo in which she appears, she is aged five, and seen in picture with her baby sister June. There's not even a formal posed studio photograph. I believe the reason for this is that Dad and Mum were too poor to afford photography of any kind during the period of the general strike and the great depression.

It's also interesting to see across two generations of holiday snaps how many were taken at Weston super Mare. For South Wales miners it was the nearest and most popular holiday resort away from Wales. Geoff and Pauline's family home for forty years was in Bleadon Hill, a few miles away from Weston. They may have gone elsewhere on holiday by the time the children arrived and they could afford to, but Weston was the nearest shopping town and having a beach was forever an attraction. 

I realised this afternoon that day one of my quarantine was actually the day I arrived home. Despite the title of today's posting this is the last day of my fortnight in isolation. I had to count several times on my fingers to take it in! Clare and I had a big hug, then I went out and did a small practice shopping run to the shops, dutifully wearing my Virustatic mask and noticing how few others were wearing masks anywhere.

As I returned home walking up Severn Road, I saw the caretaker of the Bilal Mosque, dutifully wearing a mask, unlocking the building for another man, without a mask, who wanted to enter and pray on his own I guess. He turned and looked in my direction, I smiled and said 'Salaam', and was delighted to receive a Salaam and a wave in return.

Then I went out to the park for a walk down to Blackweir Bridge by an indirect route. The bridge is still closed as it's too narrow to permit social distancing. Despite the fact that it was a chilly fifteen degrees, even lower with the wind, three boys were swimming above the weir. Hardy kids!

Crossing the fields I was surprised to find a family of swallows flying in circles where I was walking, almost under my feet, there were so low, presumably after a certain type of insect at grass level. Down at the weir a couple of dozen swifts were also feeding on the wing, but higher up, over the water. More swifts than I remember seeing in recent years. And down on the waters edge below the bridge, a solitary heron was keeping watch. What a welcome back to Taffside!

I reached my 10k walking target once more today, and cleared the attic bedroom of everything that Clare had provided for me over the past fortnight. It meant dozens of trips up and down the stairs. By the time it was done, I was exhausted, but happy to be free at last to re-insert myself into Wales' 'new normal'.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi

Unfortunately, observance of the First Sunday of Lent takes precedence over the fiesta of our national patron, so the Church Catholic is out of step with the nation, celebrating Dewi tomorrow instead. I'm sure he wouldn't mind Lent observance had been going on for about a hundred and fifty years before he was born. He'd give it priority over all else, quite naturally.

I celebrated and preached at St Paul's Grangetown this morning, with a congregation of over forty adults and children. A couple of youngsters read the lesson. A lad of about seven read the story of the Fall with some difficulty. It was a good effort for someone learning to read, halting with occasional stumbles, but nobody minded. The congregation followed from a pew sheet provided, happy to see one of their kids confident enough to get up and try reading in public. Many of them wouldn't have the confidence to do that. It's marvellous that small children are encourage to have a go and try hard things. Clearly it works. The second lesson from St Paul on the second Adam is a closely argued text. It was read with clarity and impressive comprehension by another lad, nine or ten years old. We gave both of them a round of applause. Such a joy!

Before lunch I walked to Tesco's to get a bottle of wine, as Sunday is not a day of Lenten observance. The length of Llandaff Road was closed off for re-surfacing, and a fleet of lorries came with tarmac and left empty. The heavens opened and soaked me on the way back. Huge clouds of steam rose from the newly rolled surface after the rain. The smell is so evocative.

A walk to Blackweir after lunch revealed river water levels only slightly higher than usual. The fields have also drained of surface water very quickly. The force of the water flow over the past week has shifted hundreds of tons of pebbles into a long tear drop shaped island in the middle of the riverbed. In fact, its shape today was different again from what it was earlier in the week. Two cormorants were perched on stones on the furthermost edge of the island, surveying the waters. The entire tree that was washed downstream under the bridge last week has disappeared. The riverbed seems quite clean and bare after a couple of weeks of heavy rain. At first, huge amounts of wood was carried downstream on the flood, timbers from industrial pallets and crates, tree branches and logs, plastic crates bottles, containers. All of this ends up in the Bay where hundreds of tons of rubbish has to be removed daily as part of the effort required to release water from the marina into the Severn Estuary.

After the walk, I made an effort to sort out my possessions and pack them for travel. First, making a pack of wound dressings to occupy a corner of my case - this time last year, I recall us taking a large separate bag full of medical stuff with me to my sister Pauline's 90th birthday celebration in Weston. Progress! Next, trying to decide which gadgets I'm going to take, and finding the chargers to go with them. Then selecting clothes, and then assembling just the right amount of blood pressure medication packs to cover the time away. Next, sorting out essential documents in addition to passport tickets driving license and IDP. Usually, I'm doing this on the day I start travel, but this time I'm unusually nervous and keen to get it all right in advance. It's eighteen months since I last travelled abroad, and it's less easy to get going than it used to be.
  

Leap Year Day

The sunshine returned this morning, but the cold biting wind still persists. After a tasty breakfast of veegan recipe pancakes, I walked to Blackweir Bridge again to see if the Taff had burst its banks in the night, having heard that the river Ely had done. The Taff had indeed burst its banks in the night and floodwater had collected in the field area below the first dyke, but was already draining away. 

The river was still high, lapping the footpath, but it had already dropped by a foot judging by the level of wetness on the concrete pier of the bridge, not yet dried out. The volume and speed of the water flow was truly impressive, seen close up. Last weekend I hadn't been able to walk all the way to the riverbank because of the extent of the footpath flooding. Today it was only a matter of a ten foot stream of water flowing across the path from north to south on the lower level. Last week the footpath on upper as well as lower level was inundated for several dozen yards.

Later, Clare and I returned, crossed over the river and walked through Bute Park, footpaths and grass areas still flooded near the Castle, disrupting walkers and cyclists yet looking lovely and tranquil in the bright sunlight. We had lunch in the Secret Garden cafe, enjoying a very tasty squash and lentil soup. Everything used and sold in the cafe consists of locally sourced organic products, a real little showcase for the Welsh food industry, and a credit to the park estate. 

We continued into town and went to John Lewis' in search of a new Kindle for Clare. We learned that the store no longer sells Amazon products. I guess Amazon has taken away a lot of their trade, so why give its products retail space? They had a few Fire tablets in the stockroom, and we bought one, albeit at the same price as we could have bought it in Currys. Then we realised that the device hardware had a back-lit screen not the front-lit display Clare was hoping to have once again, so we returned it before leaving the store, went to Currys and bought a Paperwhite Kindle there. Much mote expensive, but it fits the bill, and even the existing protective cover, as it's the same size as the old one.

It was early evening by the time I got around to writing and completing my sermon for tomorrow, late in the week for me, but I've had other things on my mind. All done and printed out in time to watch the third episode of the Cymru Noir crimmie 'Hidden' - very sinister and creepy. I shall miss the rest, as iPlayer doesn't work abroad, unless you use a VPN link, which I won't.

  

The ground on which we stand

I was back on midweek duty this morning, celebrating the Eucharist at St Catherine's with eight others. Because of the readings, I took the opportunity to reflect with them on the church's ministry of healing, making use of the laying on of hands. It's struck me how important that is in this day and age when medical treatment is all narrowly specialised and organised around tests and procedures. It may indeed all be very effective, but the process reduces the case load to patient and procedure numbers. The whole person isn't treated, only presenting problems and symptoms. The best medicine is holistic and some of it happens in GP surgeries where a real effort is made to care for people, but even those generalist doctors are obliged to be a specialist some of their working time. It's right and good that the Christian community addresses sick people as whole persons first and last. Ministry of Unction and Laying on of Hands represents this affirmation.

At least the rain has been lighter this past few days, but colder. The wind has been occasionally gusty, making my daily walk a little challenging on times. I was amazed to see a ten foot long branch on the ground along the avenue of trees across Llandaff Fields, which had blown down overnight. What was unusual was that it had completely disintegrated into rotten fragments on hitting the ground. How the dead branch had stayed attached to the tree for so long without breaking off is remarkable. It fell over the touch line of one of the rugby pitches. If that had come down during a match, the consequences could have been tragic. I can't understand why Cardiff Council's parks department tree officers didn't notice it before. It could have been up there decomposing for several years since it died.

Down at Blackweir Bridge, the river management crew has been at work since Sunday removing tons of silt washed downstream by the floods. There are tons more silt in dark red tide marks at the edge of the lower field as well, and huge reddish silt stains in the upper field where flood waters reached. It must be rich with microscopic organisms, as flocks of crows, starlings and gulls spend a long time on the ground foraging. The soil of the flood plain is for the most part greyish in colour, as coastal rock strata are Jurassic / Liassic Limestone. The waters of the Taff pass through a gorge to entre the flood plain, part of a long rocky outcrop at the southern end of the South Wales Coalfield. The strata in this outcrop are various ages of sandstone, some blue Grey Pennant, but also Old Red Sandstone, which is darker in colour than the New Red tends to be. It's fascinating. In the countryside on both sides of the city flood plain the soil tends to be red, reflecting what's in the rock below. The variety is fascinating. My Grandpa Kimber taught me all about local geology when I was still in Primary School, and for this lifelong interest I'm indebted to him.

Flood alert weekend

Yesterday, it had rained heavily at night and continued for part of the day as well. Dangerous weather warnings were issued by the Met Office. It was just as well I had a Sunday sermon to finish. During a break in the weather, I walked to Blackweir Bridge and took photos of the Taff, turned into a raging torrent with the water level on the west side so high it was lapping at the edge of the footpath. I'd never seen it so high before. 

On BBC Four in the evening a second series of crime drama 'Hidden', set in North Wales occupied the prime time crime at nine slot. The cops are the same as last time, but the baddies are a group of three disturbed teenagers up to sinister no good things. Very promising.

This morning, I was back in St Samson's again at nine, preaching on the 'Creation Sunday' theme in the Revised Common Lectionary. I was caught out, however. The parish uses the Roman Lectionary scheme of Sundays in 'Ordinary Time' with a totally different set of readings. I had to hunt through a couple of Lectionary books with scriptural indices to find the readings I was expecting and ask for these to be read instead. My request was  received graciously, and we started on time.

After the service I returned home, and then walked down to Pontcanna Fields to take a look at the state of the river after a second night of heavy rain. I heard on the news that the Taff had burst its banks and caused flooding up at Pontypridd, Nantgarw and Llandaff North, so I was interested to see what impact this exceptional volume of water passing underneath Blackweir Bridge would have.

Not only was the field between the footpath and the dyke flooded, but also half of the field a couple of feet above it. This was due to water breaking through a higher up on the west bank and pouring into the edge of the north side field where the dyke is not so pronounced and the ground slightly more level, so the north side flooded at the higher level and poured over the footpath into the south side. It was quite spectacular to see. The re-engineering of the river bank to improve flood defences was undertaken after Cardiff was flooded back in 1979. Apparently, today the Taff rose 80cm higher than it did on that occasion, so the work done was really put to the test, perhaps like never before.

There was a steady flow of people coming to see and take photos like me. The sensible ones had green wellies on, a few cycled through, and some like me risked the shallows and either turned back or got their feet wet. That's what happened to me. But I got some interesting photos, both yesterday and today. You can see them here.

Martin and Chris invited me over to lunch. One of their guests was a doctor friend from Martin's days as Vicar of Pontyclun, whose brother is one of the GPs in our surgery. The other was the recently retired Bishop of Monmouth Richard Pain, whom I have known for thirty years, through our shared association with Ty Mawr Convent. Neither of us can remember when we last met. I wasn't around when he was consecrated Bishop. It was a lovely afternoon of conversation, eating and drinking fine wines, just catching up and reflecting on ministerial life and the present parlous state of the Church in Wales. It was a respite from solitude which I much appreciated.

Walls that tell stories

It rained yesterday morning, but the weekly grocery shopping needed to be done so I donned the new pair of waterproof trousers sent me by my sister June, with my elderly jacket, given new life by Clare with a waterproofing solution in our washing machine, and went about my business. Rain was promised after lunch when I went for my afternoon outing in the park, so I dressed up again, but this time it didn't rain. Our weather is ever unpredictable!

As I wait for the next op, a week Thursday, each day it seems that the condition of the wound improves slightly. Most noticeably, I can sit for longer without pain or discomfort. Three hours watching telly on the sofa instead of giving up after a short while and retiring to bed to watch on my tablet instead.

This morning Clare had an X-ray appointment at Cardiff Royal Infirmary, as she has problems with a 'clicky' right hip, maybe due to joint wear and tear. For once I was able to sit comfortably in the car on the way there, and drove back without discomfort. I used a special dense foam cushion to protect me from the ravages of the shaped seat. I've tried using it in the car several times before and it was of no use at all, due to pressure on the open wound. It's healed to such an extent that it can now bear pressure when I'm sitting down. This is real progress as far as I'm concerned. Sure, it's still open, leaking gunk from inside me, but far less so, and much easier to manage in everyday life. It makes the wait bearable.

The CRI, as the old central Cardiff hospital is known, is a sprawling ensemble of fine Victorian stone and brick buildings running along the south side of Newport Road. The emergency out of hours GP service is located in one section, and a local GP surgery in another, plus an assortment of specialist services, dealing with mental health, substance abuse, and sexual health which in my seminary days was commonly known as The Pox clinic. There's also an X-ray facility there to which GPs refer patients.

Once we'd found the waiting room, I went hunting for a toilet along the very long corridor which is the building's backbone, and was impressed by the variety of plaques on the walls commemorating the patrons and major donors who funded hospital's construction starting with a Dispensary in 1822. There's one very large marble plaque containing scores of donor names, from a major public fund raising drive between 1840 and 1880. It includes donations from a succession of Mayors, landowners, and clergy including the Bishop of Llandaff. 

One clerical name I especially looked for and found was that of the Rev Charles Thompson. In those days he was Vicar of St John's City Parish Church within whose parish boundaries lay the hospital and nearby Cardiff Gaol, plus the city's military barracks out in Maindy. Thompson was the incumbent at a time of huge population expansion. He took initiatives to start six mission churches, and the addition of side aisles and a chancel to St John's, to accommodate the population increase. 

His name appears near the end of the long list. He can't have been all that long in post at the time the fund raising drive ended. The names of many of the City's great and good in the heyday of Victorian prosperity and expansion are recorded on those donation plaques, so many lives intersecting in a major community humanitarian project. A veritable Victorian Who's Who of Cardiff.

Fortunately there was no delay in Clare's appointment, and by half past ten she was dropping me off in Canton to walk home while she went to her weekly study group. I went home and did some writing until she returned for lunch.

During my afternoon walk along the Taff, I came across two men with cameras near Blackweir Bridge, one of them in a wheelchair. Birdwatchers. In the grassy riverbed patch below the path, among the masses of gulls were an egret and the older heron. We chatted, naturally, and they told me they'd seen and snapped the older and younger heron together. And a Kingfisher, in perfect lighting condition for good photos, on the willow at the water's edge. I saw some of their photos and was pleased for them. Now I know the Kingfisher is a visitor to this spot, I'll keep a keen eye out in future, hoping for a lucky sighting with a camera in hand.

Then, a lady came up the path, declaring her pleasure in seeing a heron further downstream. It was probably the young bird of the pair. I pointed out the egret and the heron, and shared the delight of the moment. It's gratifying that so many people take pleasure in this surprising wildlife sanctuary, so close to the city centre.

Remembering life-long commitment

After a disturbed night, I couldn't get myself into gear to go to St German's to attend Mass, as I'd intended. I have to accept there there are going to be good and bad days on the way to recovery. To me, my body reactions seem arbitrary, but in perspective the healing process still seems positive. 

The painter returned this morning to complete finishing touches on the rear of the house. There are a few tiles on the roof to be fixed, and then the scaffolding comes down. Job done..

This afternoon I extended my walk up the Taff beyond Llandaff Weir to Llandaff North road bridge and back, thanks to footpaths on both sides of the river. Thankfully, Cardiff is blessed with routes to  take you away from the incessant stream of car traffic.

Recently, after supper and listening to the nightly edition of 'The Archers' on Radio 4, with nothing better to do, I've been watching episodes of 'Law and Order' on Five USA. Initially, it was an effort to make sense of American judicial procedures, rather different from ours, yet equally dedicated to pursuit of truth and doing justice by perpetrators and victims. What's starting to impress me now is the way different episodes introduce debate on contemporary moral issues, and the challenge we all face in discerning how to do the truth in every different situation in which we find ourselves today.

I had a message from Revd, Doreen this afternoon, celebrating her fiftieth anniversary of clothing as a Novice of the Community of the Holy Name, the start of working out her call to ministry. I recall when we met several years ago while I was on locum duty in Málaga, she told me that she first sensed a calling to priesthood as a child. It finally happened for her over forty years later.

Co-incidentally, I made a personal retreat before my diaconal ordination at the Convent of the Holy Name in Malvern Link around the time of her clothing. A CHN sister made my first traditional style alb for me and I wore it for both ordinations, and at services for the next twenty years until I was given my first all-in-one cassock-alb as a parting gift by Halesowen parishioners in 1992. 

Fifty years later and we're both still active in the adventure of voluntary ministry, still energised by that vision and sense of mission that inspired us half a century ago. Thank God, that's all I can say.

    

Chrome undersold?

Although it was another overcast day, it remained warm enough to be out doors with just a jacket, and later in the day, without a pullover. A good day for walking. I did the weekly shop before lunch and after lunch a walk through the park to town along the river. I was amazed to see large several family groups of ducks, broods of six to eight growing flight plumage now, Mallards, Mergansers, gulls as all out on the water foraging, establishing their territories. I must have counted altogether about fifty new birds in half a dozen families, and few good photos out of many taken. I took my HX300 with me as well as my HX90, needing its longer range. I'm more used to it and get better photos in the long zoom range. The HX90 is just a bit lighter and smaller than its predecessor and I haven't yet got the steadiness of hand with it as I had with the old HX50.

Being grounded by my aliment here in Cardiff over the past nine months has been very frustrating for someone with euro-wanderlust like me, but being out and about in the park with a camera most days has reaped a certain rewarding satisfaction. Looking back over three seasons photographs of familiar scenes is a pleasure in its own right. I'm not a great fan of any place where mountains are distant and hardly visible. It's been a matter of coming to terms with living in an ancient flood plain with just meadows and trees. 

I'll never love my nieghbourhood environment as much as the Valleys, the Beacons, Snowdonia or our Jurassic coastline, but with the passage of time, more beautiful aspects of low lying lands reveal themselves. I suppose that's what learning to contemplate is about, watching, waiting, being open, learning to receive, to notice and appreciate.

In town I popped into John Lewis', aware that the summer sale was starting from my Friday visit. This is the time, I find, to pick up overstocked tech clearance bargains. I was disappointed not to see any Chromebooks discounted before, but today, there was an array of bargains, from entry level up to high spec ones. The prices may still be a bit high and come down later towards the end of sale time.  

Looking at the labels on the boxes, often shows they've been 'returned unwanted' - meaning, I suspect that they have been bought by people who are attracted by their good looks, but can't understand it's not the Windows machine they're used to, and don't have the patience to learn how to benefit from it. 

In my opinion, Chromebook marketing and promotion across Europe generally is poor. No attempt is made to educate potential new users in the benefits of using Chrome OS, how fast, and simple it is, how easy it is to get used to it. When you visit Currys/PC World and examine product labels for their Chromebooks on offer, you find they speak about Chromebooks having 'built-in anti-virus'. This is misleading. Chrome OS is resistant to viruses designed to exploit Windows or Mac vulnerabilities. 

A malware laden file wouldn't trigger an attack, but, forwarded to a third party, it would still be toxic. It's possible the system's Chrome browser, although generally very secure, could be compromised to deliver spam in an uncontrolled way. This can either be remedied by restarting Chrome browser, or Chromebook, or in extremis, restoring to its pristine condition by a 'Powerwash' - the equivalent of a Windows system reset. The former takes minutes, the latter can take hours. 

All too often the way Windows works gets in the user's way, with too much distracting information imposing itself on work in progress. It's possible to switch off many of the notification routines, but it's unclear how once you get started and come across new ones. Users should be given a choice from the outset to reverse the always-on default. I still live in hope of converting my sister June to Chromebook use. It would take away so many of her annoyances and anxieties about computer use.

    

How green is my Valley now!

Yesterday's carol service for the whole of Tredegarville school was the last occasion of this term for children to worship in St German's. There'll be no more 'class Masses' until mid January when Spring term gets under way. Eight of the regulars were there for the  midweek celebration of the Eucharist this morning, eastward facing in the Lady Chapel. Afterwards I chatted with people in the day centre for a while before heading back home for lunch. 

The rest of the day was uneventful and pretty inactive, apart from a brisk walk to Tesco's after preparing supper. Clare was out rehearsing for her Sunday concert until after eight. After eating together, I watched the first of a documentary series being re-run on BBC Four, about the river Taff and its post industrial regeneration. It's a superb series, part of which I have seen before. It was lovely to hear people being interviewed who spoke with the unique local accent in the area where I grew up. The 21st century story of the river's revival as a natural habitat, after half a century of ecological death by industrial pollution, is such a positive story for our time.

As I was growing up the state of the river, with its banks of alien silt from deep underground, brought to the surface and distributed throughout river systems due to ubiquitous coal mining washeries, was part of my earliest memories of outdoor play. I remember my mother's anxious warning, not to go near 'that black brook' which flowed off the mountainside through Ystrad Mynach, down to the river Rhymney on the floor of our valley. Coal dust, however you acquired it, made your clothes very dirty, so heaven help you if you fell into the river. Now the tributaries and the main valley rivers are alive again with healthy vegetation, birds and fish. The grief of elders who lived through the heyday of mining regretting the environmental cost has been turned to joy and pride.

At the end of my first year in University, I had a summer internship in the local National Coal Board science lab on the edge of our village. One of my tasks was to accompany a member of staff who toured streams and rivers in the area collecting water samples. These were then subjected to routine tests for toxins from coal tips, to monitor the impact of coal waste dumping. I think this was where my interest in the environment really began. In those days, when the pits were still producing coal and dumping waste incessantly, the valleys were bleak places, made ugly by industry. 

I went off to University in Bristol, and found an urban environment with clean countryside not too far away much more appealing. So, I grew in determination not to return to the valleys of my birth. Even so, I did return to Cardiff to train for ministry, and served my first curacy in Caerphilly, in a mining housing estate, though, mercifully in a setting where hillsides were green and free of coal tips. Then, ministry took me to one urban area after another for thirty years. Only in the past fourteen years since returning to serve in Britain, has the transformation of the environment after the closure of the pits made a strong impression on me. I watched this evening's programme with great pride and joy, as so much of the landscape it portrayed is now familiar.

It leaves me wondering. Natural beauty was such an important element of my experience of young life, despite the industrialisation of the valleys. Had the landscape not been despoiled when I was growing up, would I have been less tempted to escape and seek a new way of life and new experiences elsewhere?

      

Wet weekend

The roads were much busier yesterday, with cars coming and going from the town centre, visiting the never ending sales. To get some exercise, we walked into town along the Taff Trail late afternoon, not very late but late enough for the Castle Park gates to be already shut requiring us to use a cramped exit through the gatehouse cafe into Castle street. We visited several stores in search of pot-pourri and came home with a new jacket for me, something smart to wear when we go cruising on the Danube in the spring.

Much to my delight, the first of six new episodes of 'Young Montalbano' was shown on BBC4 after supper. There are many moments of comic dialogue and sarcasm to raise a laugh, and yet this never detracts from the tragic seriousness of the story lines. You get small glimpses into people's struggles against poverty and corruption, and conclude that humour is for the people portrayed a front line defence against losing their dignity to despair and anger. It speaks to me more than the earnestness and intensity of Scandinavian noir crime fiction.

This morning I left for the Mass at St Germans in driving rain, and realised that I'd left my sermon behind, which meant I had to improvise around what I remembered of the one I prepared. We kept the Epiphany early, and processed to the crib for a prayer. There was a minor panic due to the absence of an appropriate prayer source to take with us. I retrieved my Blackberry (in silent mode) from my jacket, found the collect for the Second Sunday of Christmastide in the CofE Daily Office app, tucked up my sleeve. That's my first ever liturgical use of a Smartphone. I was impressed back in the spring in Nerja, that parish priest Fr Andreas led hymns and devotions in procession from his smartphone. I wouldn't say 'never' then or now, as I'd rather ban phones from the liturgy. But sometimes, the need is there.

As I arrived, rain started to cascade down the inside south wall of the Lady Chapel. A gutter blockage on a flat roof above quickly led to a small lake of uncleared water seeking to go to ground underneath the lead, not over it. The blockages is a consequence of a tree in the Vicarage grounds, which the church is not allowed to cut down or trim as there is a municipal 'tree preservation order' on it. This grade one listed building sustains damage, not because it's poorly maintained, but because the tree cannot be cut back, if not cut down, to prevent leaves landing on the roof. This kind of blockage can happen in between regular inspection visits, if there's an overnight wind followed by heavy rain. If the Council has the legal right to impose such preservation orders, do they not have an obligation to help prevent things like this from happening as a consequence? 

After lunch, a walk down to Blackweir bridge again to see impact of the day's rain on the river Taff. 

The water level beneath the bridge before it goes over the weir is a good six inches higher than a few days ago, and the speed of flow is astonishing, but it's still a couple of feet above the upstream banks. With more rain forecast will it go any higher I wonder?

Monsoon Christmas

Boxing Day slipped lazily by, the weather was good enough for an afternoon family walk at low tide on the beach and then on the pier in Penarth. Then it was Sunday again, with a Eucharist to celebrate at St Germans for thirty people. We kept the Feast of the Holy Family, but much of what I wanted to preach about was the neglected saints days of the week, St Stephen, St John, Holy Innocents, St Thomas a Becket and St Sylvester - all martyrs except John. Cardinal Vincent Nigholls highlighted this in his Christmas Even interview on the radio, and it got me thinking along his lines about martyrdom today.

We took an afternoon family stroll in the riverside park after lunch. Gail and Anwen came to join us there so that Rhiannon and Anwen could spent time together. We followed a very muddy winding path through the woods along the Canal Feeder as far as the Blackweir Ambulance station, a less than comfortable adventure for the adults. At Blackweir Bridge the Taff was discharging huge volumes of water over the weir at high speed. Above the bridge, water was still a metre from the top of the river bank, thankfully. I wondered what it would be like if it had rained so long and hard here as it has done this month in the north of England.

In Victorian times, the river through the flood prone town centre was straightened out. The building of the Bay Barrage greatly improved flood defences. The last great inundation was in the 1979s, when St John's Vicarage was in Cathedral Road, and a boat called to take the Vicar to church. The barrage destroyed the river's tidal character, but ultimately didn't stop salmon and trout returning, or otters and cormorants. Sections of the river bank were raised, and there's now a secondary dyke through the fields beyond the west bank. We're fortunate there's a gradient in the riverbed right along the river as far inland as Llandaff North, where there's another weir. The drop over three miles from there to the sea is two metres or so, and the clear straight-ish channel makes for fast run-off.

Eastern Cardiff is still a worry, as the river Rhymney runs out through tidal marshes to the estuary, and high volumes of water can still back up at high tide and spill over into inhabited areas. The water table is only a metre below ground in the flat lands along Newport Road, and times of high rainfall are still a worry. Much more investment is still needed for flood defences on the east side of Cardiff Bay. But, until there's a crisis this investment in the future doesn't seem to figure much in public debate.

Before lunch today we walked into town to look around the shops for post Christmas bargains. I came home with a HP mini desktop PC at £230 once I'd bought an adaptor to attach to my new monitor. It's Windows 8.1, so there'll be the usual upgrade hassles. My 2009 mini-tower has become unreliable in switching on recently. It's the last thing I need when I want to work at something quickly. Trouble is, having to install Linux as well with the the EUFI boot security hardware is not going to be at all easy.