Catch-up and digital housekeeping

More torrential rain and flood warnings greeting us when we woke up this morning. After breakfast Kath Anto and Rhiannon got ready to drive to Kenilworth in horrible condition. I took my leave for them and headed for St Catherine's during a pause in the rain, pick up my prescription from the surgery and take it to the pharmacy across the road, before opening up the church to celebrate the St John's Day Mass with five others. 

Owain stayed on to have lunch before returning to Bristol. I drove him to the station to save him getting soaked, and fortunately it stopped raining just as we arrived at the Wood Street back entrance. He was even luckier to walk straight on to a train for Bristol, with his rucksack and two bags-for-life full of pressies and a share of leftover feast food. By half past three the travellers were home safe. For Rhiannon, there's work this evening as an ice rink steward in Coventry. In Kath and Anto's case, preparation for their departure to Melbourne tomorrow. Owain has to arrange transport for a take-away fifty quid sofa in the next few days before he has to start work again. It was a lovely few days together, involving much effort on all sides, we're all rather tired, but it was worth the effort.

I waited for a pause in the rain, then walked to Blackweir as the sun was going down to find out what impact the last few days of rain had made on the Taff. For the first time since last January. For the first time the river was just overflowing on to the footpath. The weir outflow spewed three metres into the air, a good half metre more than I've seen it all year. Those severe weather flood warning weren't exaggerating.

While we ate turkey soup for supper when I returned, we listened to four episodes of 'The Archers', as we have missed them during our family festivities. Then I spent an hour or so tidying up my phone file system, and archiving albums to a hard drive from by Google Photos accounts, to clear on-line space for whatever new pictures I may take next year and store on my free Google account space. I'd rather not pay for extra storage when I can find a safe haven for years worth of pictures on my own devices. 

Clare gave me a two terabyte hard drive for Christmas. I could probably get all the photos I've ever taken on to this, but I already have several other storage devices, not yet full, containing in a random fashion the twenty two years worth of digital photos I've taken, plus another thirty years worth of digitised photos scanned from film negatives. That's a job not yet finished. I have acquired from Anto an old Windows 7 laptop which should work with my film scanner. It will take up less space than what I use at the moment, a fourteen years of Windows Vista PC to drive my equally ancient film scanner. Here's hoping anyway.

When I'd finished my digital tidy-up, I joined Clare watching a fascinating nature documentary about the remarkable properties of mosses, which are able to grow and adapt to existing in all kinds of hostile environments. They're amazingly resilient and may have been among the first kinds of living organism along with plankton, to colonise new environments and help lay the foundation for the rest of life on earth. Then I watched a re-run of an episode of nineties comedy show satirising the Asian expat way of life in the UK, 'Goodness Gracious Me'. I don't really recall watching this when it was on originally. It had some funny moments, but on the whole I found it crude, lacking subtlety, over-reliant on stereotypes portraying Asian culture. Mind you, this seems to characterise a great deal of what passes for comedy broadcasts today. 

Ash Wednesday like none other

Again, waking early and listening to news reports from the Ukraine, with more reports of brutal assaults on Kharkiv and Mariupol. Ukrainian fatalities in the first week of invasion are thought to be two thousand, including children. Numbers of people fleeing the country have risen to eight hundred thousand, and will continue to rise as violence intensifies. Putin's Russia seems immune to international outrage, but harsher economic sanctions around the world, against super rich individuals, state and private businesses are starting to have an impact. 

The market price of oil and gas continues to rise, and the knock on effect is likely to be global recession by the end of the year, experts say. Part of the global economy depend on the gas and oil Russia produces. It's now the regime's only source of revenue, but this trade hasn't yet been shut down. In fact it has increased, perhaps because countries are buying to stockpile energy resources before it too is sanctioned. Quite apart from what's happening militarily, it really is like watching a disaster happen in slow motion.

After breakfast I went to St Catherine's for the Eucharist of the Day and Ashing ceremony. There were a dozen of us. Mthr Frances preached around a story from a Harry Potter story. As I haven't read any of those novels or paid attention to the movies when shown on telly, I didn't really get the message. Perhaps my mind was too preoccupied with making sense of the Ukraine situation. It was what people were talking about over coffee after the service. I was reminded of the impact of the Syrian conflict, and before that the Bosnian conflict had on me when they happened. Praying aright when you're unable to make sense of anything is always a struggle I guess.

After church I returned home and worked on next week's biblical reflection for my weekly Morning Prayer upload, then cooked lunch while Clare was out shopping. Later in the afternoon, I walked for an hour and a half just in Llandaff Fields. There was a group of Cathedral School kids and teachers running in circuits around the footpath. I'm not sure if this was an after school athletic training session or a junior Park Run type leisure activity, but it was good to see them making the effort.

The only things compelling interest on telly after supper was 'Digging for Britain' and Channel 4 News, for a different group of news reporters telling stories and interviewing people in Ukraine in different locations from those used by the Beeb. In the home news this evening is the shut down on the Kremlin backed English language TV channel Russia Today. The British government was still getting around to imposing sanctions against the broadcaster, but has been trumped by EU broadcast sanctions, forcing shut down, right in the middle of a programme. 

This suggests sudden implementation of the withdrawal of technical services by European satellite network providers preventing its continuation. The USA has closed its entire air space to Russian aircraft as well. Will all these measures be enough to make Putin and his generals think again? It may be some time before we find out, unless a miracle happens, and I'm praying for something unexpected to surprise us all. And I don't mind what kind of miracle it is.

Church on hold again?

There were twenty of us for the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. The new covid variant scare is having hitting people's confidence. It seems tonight's PCC is set to discuss whether or not to continue to offer public worship, as some attendees are slower to disperse from the churchyard than is considered to be desirable. 

Clergy are being enjoined not to stand outside to greet people from a suitable distance as they leave, as this leads to people hanging around outdoors. Outside the church gates on the street, in the shops, the risks will be high because the public realm isn't as well controlled. It doesn't take much to ask people not to take off their masks while they are within the gates. They'll understand why. Outside, it's up to each person to assess risk for themselves.

It troubles me that if clergy can't see and hail worshippers from afar and ask how they are, offer a word of support and encouragement, what will it do to pastoral relationships? On-line isn't enough, a face on a screen doesn't allow a pastor to notice the true colour of someone's complexion, their tone of voice, their movement when they walk, all of which inform the relationship the shepherd has with the flock. I found it in Ibiza - seeing only half a dozen people over a three month period, face to face, very occasionally. It was impossible to establish meaningful pastoral relationships with people I was there to serve. That was the worst thing, not being able to assess from personal contact what was really happening to people. Social media can't be trusted when it comes to baring one's soul. 

And all this happens on a day when the key Gospel phrase is 'Come and see ...' 

It comes in a week when a contagion expert said on the news that the risk is far less outdoors, with or without a mask, although research into this is still on-going and not yet peer reviewed and published. The most serious risk is in uncontrolled indoor settings, like supermarkets, on which new health and safety requirements have been imposed of necessity this weekend. If data on supermarket based contagion is available, why not data on contagion in compliant churches? Without proper information, judgements are likely to be made on the basis of anxious hearsay - as if we needed that!

In church, we pray in a highly controlled environment, sitting in well spaced out pews, wearing obligatory masks. Those who attend behave considerately of others, and don;t hang about indoors longer than they need to. We're told there's a hugely increased risk, but without a shred of data to show how many Anglican congregations worshipping together compliantly are known to have been involved in transmitting infection. Sure, a few churches have blatantly ignored the risk from the outset, carried on as normal and become 'superspreaders', but does that mean the rest of us can't be trusted to behave compliantly?  Caution, self-discipline, good information are always essential in Christian conduct, even more so in such dangerous days. Timidity is understandable and inevitable, recklessness is folly, but giving in to the tide of fear - how does that witness to the Gospel?

On my walk in the park after lunch, the Taff water level was down again and the resident Merganser was back on the rock slabs where family can be seen. On the same outcrop stood a cormorant as I was passing and I got a nice photo of the two of them in each other's space. The merganser moved ,then fluffed up its feathers as it turned its back on the cormorant. The cormorant then plopped into the water and took off.

Afterwards, I decided to have a go at reclaiming space in my Gmail accounts now 85% full. If storage fills up completely I'll be required to rent extra space, but why bother if most of the data stored is redundant or irrelevant? Last year I deleted emails from 2007 when I registered the accounts, up to 2010 when I retired. Since then, a great number of emails were CBS correspondence, not necessary to keep as they are copied on the CBS Gmail account. 

Over the past ten years, the size of photo attachments has risen tenfold, as many senders don't bother to downsize them before sending. Also thousands of notifications that should have been deleted weren't. Google's fast search options mask the accumulation of redundant files and big attachments. After an hour's work, I got rid of ten gigabytes of data on one account and seven on another. One thing which I discovered on other file storage systems too. The deleted content of the account trash can must also be deleted before file space is reclaimed. Sneaky that one! A worthwhile effort, I think.

I had an email after lunch from Emma in the Euro-diocesan office about the new requirement for holders of PTO doing locum duty that they now need to do a further on-line Safeguarding training, before their PTO is renewed. The five year renewal cycle has been reduced to three years, the accent on training is welcome in a fast changing environment, especially regarding the rise of on-line forms of abuse. Emma works from home in deepest rural Essex where, like here they've had phenomenal amounts of rain. There was a tiny video clip of the little stream at the bottom of her garden, swollen and spilling over its banks. It's the same in many parts of Britain.

Much to my surprise, I had an email from Bishop June while I was out walking, noting with appreciation my small effort to support the Parish ministry team these past few months. How could I do anything else as an elderly churchgoer who happens to be ordained and still fit enough to function from time to time. In present circumstances ministry is extra difficult and demanding of new skills, stamina and patience. It's a relief to me that I no longer have responsibility for holding everything together and giving a lead. Acting on orders, as long as I can do that well and correctly is all I can hope to do nowadays. It's not a bad thing at all. President to be Joe Biden is my age. I'm glad not to be in his shoes! 

ON telly tonight, we watched the first of a six part drama about a woman whose property developer husband dies mysteriously at 48 while he's showing them around the high tech new home he's just had built for them to move into. It's a sort of black comedy, that may turn into a comedy crimmie, I suppose. In my Geneva days I was summoned urgently to offer pastoral support to the traumatized wife and daughter of a member of the congregation who was a banker. He dropped dead in the middle of a working day, and I was asked to accompany them to the chapel of rest where his body had just been laid out. He was still in his work suit, looking smart, eerie and unreal. 'That's not my Daddy!' exclaimed his 13 year old daughter, and they both wept. 

Watching this brought it all back to me, whether it was really true to life or not. That made it uncomfortable to watch, not entertaining at all. I am interested in how it plays out, however, given the problems which arise when someone dies intestate or mired in debt or cash-flow issues, especially as bank accounts are automatically frozen when someone dies. It's understandable that some elderly people are still in the habit of keeping a stash of cash under the bed, reluctant to entrust all their wordly goods to the self serving paranoia of a modern banking system.

Not Dewi Sant but Ash Wednesday

Today's first assignment was the Eucharist and Ashing ceremony at St Catherine's, with a congregation of eight. Then, after lunch, a visit to Tredegarville School for a simple Ashing ceremony for staff and two hundred children. As today is St David's Day, their morning had been taken up with the traditional school Eisteddfod. I full expected the children to be fidgety and tired with over-excitement, and was amazed at how relaxed, quiet and receptive they were. I explained what we were about to do and then taught them to sing a Kyrie Eleison I learned half a lifetime ago from the Taize repertoire. Once they'd mastered it, they continued to sing throughout the procession of children to the front to receive their black smudge on the forehead. This was quite difficult to achieve with perfection, as some moved as I was taking aim. 

With prayers, it was all over in twenty five minutes. The look on children's faces as they came up to receive, some smiling, some serious, some looking a little lost in the moment, was just wonderful to behold. I would like to have spent time just looking into each child's eyes a little longer than the few seconds each took, as is possible when I meet children at the altar rail to be blessed during Mass. For me, this deepens the sense of awe and wonder at the heart of the sacramental mystery, seeing them so caught up in the experience of Christ's presence in worship.

Before returning home to finalise a sermon for the evening Mass, I spent a while in the church hall trying workarounds to the problem of poor wi-fi connectivity in the building. A wi-fi range extender purchased has not delivered expected results. The fault is not in the device but in the location of the wireless router, in an office under the stairs near the entrance. There building has a steel frame and reinforced concrete walls, making it just about impossible for router and extender to handshake, except when plugged in at a socket in the lobby, ten metres away. The extender's signal cannot penetrate the length of the hall and backstage as the only power socket is located next to a steel and concrete pillar which masks the signal or deflects it in the wrong direction. 

A powerline network setup with wi-fi extender would do the job nicely, if only there was a free wall socket in office under the stairs. The answer may well be to relocate the incoming phone socket, in the main hall, along with the wireless router itself. This made me envious of the solution adopted by some Spanish telecom internet service providers, of having phone and broadband delivered wirelessly into properties to domestic handsets and routers through a domestic transponder which captures signals broadcast from an 4G cell tower transmitter or a satellite antenna in the vicinity. This is occasionally subject to outages due to electric storms or really excessive traffic, as when there's a key football match or major emergency, and everyone is attached or trying to attach to the network at the same time, but normally, its fast, stable and effective.

There were twenty of us for the Solemn Mass and Ashing ceremony at St German's in the evening. For the second night running, everyone sat in the chancel and enjoyed the acoustical pleasure of singing parts of the service unaccompanied. Each Lent these days, I attempt to do something that requires me to be creative and learn something new and not just fall back on twenty odd years worth of material stored in my liturgy and preaching digital archive. This year, I'm going to highlight the different Psalms which are set for use in the Sunday Eucharistic lectionary, as so often these are sung or said with hardly a reference to them, when there's so much to be said about the rest of the readings. 

Tonight, it was Psalm 51, which has contributed phrases to so many expressions of penitence in Anglican forms of worship, and the daily offices. The biblical texts is annotated with a reference to origin as a prayer of king David occasioned by the unmasking of his adulterous relationship with Bathsheba and his deadly effort to cover up his mortal sin. So often the prophets denounced Israel as an 'adulterous nation', as people's dalliance with the worship of foreign gods was considered in much the same terms, as being a breach of their covenant with God. Plenty of food for thought here.

I also wondered if there was some different effort I could make that wasn't just the usual routine of fasting, prayer and alms-giving, but which would push me into being more aware, more responsible. Often when I'm out walking I start feeling angry toward people who not only wander the streets at night drinking from bottles, but leave them dumped if not smashed in places where this could harm others, and leave the place looking ugly and uncared for. Often after football training or matches on pitches in Llandaff or Pontcanna Fields the grass is littered with discarded bottles and cans. Not all team coaches and supporters seem to be bothered about cleaning up after them. Occasionally I have collected a plastic shopping bag of stuff to carry to the nearby bins. 

It's immature and irresponsible behaviour, but impossible to police. So, instead of moaning and being resentful, I have resolved for Lent to make it my business to keep a bag in my pocket and pick up cans, bottles, takeaway cartons and the suchlike whenever I am walking anywhere. Having decided this at the Eucharist in St Catherine's this morning, I started on my way home, and collected seven pieces in just over half a mile. Some had been stuffed into boundary hedges, others balanced on garden walls, on waste bins, or ledges from which they could fall and smash. Two bottles that were parked on the street outside of Poncanna's gated St Winifrid's apartments lay there undisturbed since I walked to church on Sunday morning. Residents drive in and out seemingly oblivious of the squalor. 

Council auto-sweepers drive by occasionally, but they only do streets and gutters. Trash dumped out of reach seems to be nobody's concern. Well, if I can see it, I can do something about it, can't I? I don't have the energy to exhort others, start a civic awareness trend or a political campaign to extend community service payback schemes for delinquents to every city neighbourhood, but I can pick up what I notice, if I bother to make the effort this Lent. It is a bit of a penance, but it might help make me feel less ashamed about living in such a slovenly society.