Not consistently smart

I was in bed just after eleven last night, fell asleep immediately and slept quite well. I was annoyed to find that my Fitbit watch failed to record the first hour's sleep altogether and refused to record the missing hour manually. This happens occasionally in a random way. The worst thing is that all the clever statistics and so called coaching advice the thing generates is based on a watch telemetry failure. Smart watch? Huh! 

I drove Clare to UHW for another eye checkup after breakfast, but couldn't stay with her. I had food bank shopping to do before the Eucharist at St Catherine's. We were six men at the service this morning. There was no coffee and chat in the hall afterwards, as it had been hired for use as a film by a S4C production company, to judge by the few scenic additions made to the hall exterior. Four of us went around the The Wardrobe coffee shop in King's Yard instead. As it was sunny we were able to sit outside and chat. On my way home I collected the veggie bag from Chapter. Clare was cooking a curry for lunch when I got back.

After we'd eaten, I started preparing the text for Morning Prayer the week after next. I've made an effort to archive texts of the reflections written and published on WhatsApp for each Thursday morning since I joined in doing this regularly when I returned from Ibiza in May 2020. I've done this in fits and starts and only once since the beginning of this year. I spent an hour copying and pasting texts into my archive file until it was up to date. 

I don't know how much longer I'll continue doing this, given there's no feedback and nobody new has offered to fill the existing gap, so others have to double up. I used to do this but seem to have less time to offer these days. Three lay and two clerical volunteers contribute, but the full time clergy don't. I think it's a legacy affair they'd rather not have to deal with, so it just drifts on with nobody willing to take the lead and ask questions about what we're doing now and why let alone whether we could be improving the offer of daily prayer from and for the parish.

I went for a walk at four, once around Thompson's Park, then across to Llandaff Fields for another circuit and a trip to the Co-op. It was nearly dark by the time I got back.

After supper I spent the whole evening writing a reflection and editing it down to the right size. Some days this task comes quick and easy, other times, like this evening, not.

Triple coincidence

I've been using the CofE Daily Prayer app on my phone for the last ten years. Late last night, when I went to use it, the app crashed. I uninstalled and re-installed it but it still crashed, so I gave up and prayed from memory instead. When I woke up this morning, a repeat performance. I had no difficulty using the app on my old Blackberry phone, which meant there was something wrong with my new phone. The one thing I didn't do was switch the phone off and on again. Once I did, the app worked perfectly again.  Silly not to have thought of that earlier. 

Recently, I've not switched the phone off at night as I did before. If it stays on for many days at a time, the very occasional tiny glitch in an app, or in the Android operating system can cause a crash. There was a time when the technology was young that it occurred more frequently than it does nowadays. The helpline advisor always started by asking "Have you tried switching it off and on again?" Funny that I'd forgotten this essential basic procedure. It reflects just how reliable smartphones now are. Note to self - remember to switch it off at night.

Another cold, bright sunny day, good for the spirit. I went to St Catherine's for the Eucharist, there were eight of us with Fr. Rowan presiding. After coffee and chat, I picked up the veggie bag from Chapter, then returned and cooked rice veg and lentils for lunch. I had a call from my sister in a panic as her laptop had frozen. I was prompted to guess that the reason was a big Windows update, as I noticed the restart icon had appeared in my laptop's toolbar. It's possible an update had been imminent the last time she switched off, or it had been in sleep mode instead of powered down. I persuaded her to do a hard reset, and when it re-booted, the update proceeded as intended and sanity was restored. 

I wish I'd persuaded June to get a Chromebook when they first came out, as there are no hassles of this kind with it, and fewer notifications to bewilder a non technical user, yet it would still be possible to do the same range of tasks as she now uses a laptop for, while doing battle with the distractions caused by notifications barely understood. Admittedly there's a learning curve involved in making the switch, but it's not huge - a different keyboard, a different file system layout, and writing documents using Google Docs, which definitely isn't in the same league as Libre Office. It's possible to use a version of Linux which looks and feels much like a Windows PC, and doesn't have any of the distractions. But, it's harder to make such a change the older you get.

After we talked, I edited and recorded the reflection I wrote yesterday, then at four I went out and walked for an hour and a half. Then I started work on a suitable slide show to accompany the audio. It took me longer than usual to find suitable visuals to use and had to complete and upload it to YouTube after a break for supper. 

We watched 'The Repair Shop' together, then an episode of 'Storyville' about an archaeological survey of a proposed housing estate in Cambridgeshire, which uncovered a village site with a late Roman era villa and several cemeteries around its periphery. One of the skeletons uncovered was that of a man in his thirties with an iron nail driven through one of his heel bones - evidence that he had been crucified. This is only the second skeleton ever to be found of a crucifixion victim. The other was found in an ancient ossuary in Jerusalem. Osteo-archaeology is one of the forensic science disciplines used in crime scene investigations and identifying war victims buried in mass graves, which can tell a lot about the person's life, especially if it's coupled with the analysis of DNA recovered from bones, and isotope analysis of material in teeth, that indicates diet and living environment. Unique, fascinating scientific detective work.

It's a triple coincidence that I watched Almodovar's movie 'Parallel Mothers' last weekend in which one of the characters is an osteo-archaeologist investigating a Spanish civil war massacres, and working my way through episodes of 'Bones' on Walter Presents, whose protagonist is also an osteo-archaeologist.

A musical nation

Clouds and drizzle this morning, and it's ten degrees cooler than yesterday. When I went down to breakfast I was surprised to find that instead of Saturday pancakes, Clare had cooked waffles to a vegan recipe for a change. They were delicious, and destined to become a firm favourite, I think.

Later, we went for a walk through Bute Park and had a snack lunch at the Secret Garden cafe. Thankfully the drizzle held off, so we didn't get wet. There was a man with a lively dog in the cafe. The hound was dragging a large stick of dead wood around, which made a conspicuous noise when dropped. It stood by the doorway, occasionally picking up and dropping the stick. Then it would take a few steps back, looking eagerly for a response from its master, absorbed in his phone and drinking coffee. This attention seeking behaviour was reproduced at least half a dozen times in ten minutes, each time the hound took a few steps nearer until it reached its master's feet and started whimpering to get attention. An impressive fear of persistent nagging, even though it fell on deaf ears!

The cloud cover remained low, and though it threatened to rain again after morning showers, it didn't. We then went to the summer fayre in St Catherine's church grounds. All the usual stalls and activities, were there and the place was busy with a steady stream of visitors. An event that's a credit to the congregation. We had some strawberries without cream, and a go on the bottle staff. Clare won a can of coffee flavoured stout branded by Guinness. Neither of us fancied it, so I surreptitiously returned it for someone else to win and then won a can of quite strong IPA, but no lucky wine wins this time. I did buy a jar of plum jam and a fresh one of churchyard blackcurrant jam to replace the one I'm slowly savouring at the moment from last autumn's fayre. You can't have enough blackcurrant jam, in my estimation!

Clare then went down to the Castle for the annual Tafwyl festival, featuring some top Welsh language singers, including singer songwriter Meinyr Gwilym of whom she's a fan. I went home, and cooked us a pasta meal using the butter beans Clare cooked yesterday. I was pleased with the result, and only needed to cook the pasta when Clare arrived home after the performance. After supper we watched on S4C this year's Welsh national youth choir competition. There were some stunning performances from choirs up to fifty strong. Such vital energy, discipline, enthusiasm and musicianship. One of the judges, an Italian musical maestro I think, speaking in English, praised the uniqueness of Wales' choral music culture. All this with Sir Tom Jones and the Stereophonics singing tonight at the Principality Stadium. "Praise the Lord, we are a musical nation", as the Reverend Eli Jenkins said in Dylan Thomas' Under Milk Wood.

We have the first of three Inspector Montalbano episodes on BBC Four over the next fortnight. The first two are re-runs of the last available episodes. The third is the last ever Montalbano story, of the thirty six. It was made into a movie after the death of his creator Antonio Camillieri, who wouldn't let it be published while he was alive. That way the authentic character dies with him. A unique inimitable body of work. The mixture of sadness and humour, with vignettes exposing the poverty and corruption which still plague Sicilian life is portrayed in a most thought provoking way. The wait to see how it all ends for Montalbano will not be easy - like waiting for a friend to die. The story teller who can generate such a bond between his characters and audience is a true maestro with words.

Money - received and requested

Another Monday with sunshine poking through the clouds. It's starting to get warmer by night as well as day now. After breakfast, vacuuming the carpet, then tidying away a neglected pile of financial papers in my study. This was prompted by puzzlement over a deposit into my expenses account of three hundred and eighty pounds, labelled 'pension payment', not where it originated. I wonder if this is the government's promised subsidy of the soaring cost of energy? The only other government payment into this account is the Winter Fuel allowance. Ah well, gratefully received.

I had an email from Clare at St Catherine's asking for help in completing a request for information needed to fill in an application form for a grant from the Pantyfedwyn Trust to help pay for the repainting of the church chancel and south aisle, which is already under way. It turns out there's a deadline for handing it in, and as Mother Francis is on leave he asked me. It's a dozen years since I last did anything of this nature, involving a brief profile of the church and its mission, but it's  one of those bureaucratic things you don't forget how to do. I quite enjoyed the little challenge.

By the time I'd finished this, it was one o'clock and Clare had just arrived from her first ever Pilates class. I had to prepare a cooked lunch rather quicker than usual, but half an hour later we sat down and ate a dish of mackerel fillets and three veg. Then I walked for a couple of hours, up and down the river, and ended with a visit to Tesco's for a bottle of their quite acceptable bargain Chilean Pinot Noir. It's the first time that I've fancied a drink of wine since the cold started, so it seems like I'm now through the worst of it. But was it a cold? Strangely, Clare hasn't caught it from me. There are reports of this year's pollen conditions being unusually detrimental to anyone who is affected. At the outset I wondered if my symptoms were due to pollen rather than a cold. My strong reaction led me to think it was a cold. Now I'm not so sure.

After supper, I watched the second of the Iolo Williams nature programmes about  Anglesey wildlife on iPlayer, and then 'Springwatch' live. Most amazing was the sight of a reclusive Bittern, a waterfowl which hides in reed beds, heard but rarely seen. It was filmed on the wing with its unusual fluid graceful wing movements. What a treat! Finally, this week's new crimmie 'Sherwood', set in a Nottinghamshire ex-pit village over thirty years after a miners strike which divided workers and residents of some villages in a way which many involved still haven't forgotten and moved on from. It's an unusual setting for a murder mystery - superbly acted, even if on times subtitles would be useful, as the accents seem quite authentic.

Before switching off for the night, I visited the NHS website and submitted a digital application for both Clare and myself for the new GHIC card which post-Brexit replaces the EHIC card giving you access to basic medical treatement in EU countries. I was pleased to see how simple and straightforward the process is, as with the new generation of .gov websites. The cards are free, but money still needs spending on full travel and health insurance cover for my stint of locum duty and subsequent holidays abroad we decide we can afford. That's a chore for another day.

Business phone no more

Cold and cloudy today, so different from yesterday. For me, a duty free Sunday. We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, and while we were singing the first hymn, Fr Rhys came up to the back of the nave to where were standing and asked if I'd assist him with the chalice, as the regular assistant minister of the Eucharist wasn't there. 

Later during the offertory hymn, I went to the sacristy and borrowed a stole to wear over my shirt and trousers to identify myself to anyone who might wonder who I was popping up out of nowhere, although most people in church probably have some idea who I am. I think we were about thirty adults and half a dozen children. Interestingly only about half the communicants received the chalice, an indication of persistent nervousness about contagion. Very few are wearing masks in church now, but it's good that nobody feels the need to conform one way or another, such is the respect people have for each other. 

St Catherine's is hosting a Parish Platinum Jubilee garden party next Saturday, then a Summer Fayre two weeks later. That's an immense amount of work for a relatively small number of people, but to judge by previous post-lockdown open air events, it will draw in people from the neighbourhood and further afield.

After lunch, I spent another hour reading 'Invierno en Madrid' before we went for a walk in the park together. Clare's back pain has diminished significantly in the past few days, and she's just left with a dull ache when she rests. It's really cheering news. While we were out, I noticed that my Blackberry was no longer able to send or receive calls and messages. Finally, a month after Ashley requested termination of service, BT acted. Last month Cardiff Business Safe was finally wound up and struck off the Companies' House register. I let Ashley know and we discussed whether or not I could just exchange SIM cards with my PAYG phone. Before supper, I made the swap and found that the Blackberry worked perfectly with the PAYG SIM. 

I have a dim recollection of being told that BT didn't lock its phones to a specific SIM any more. I think this would be necessary for someone who might travel abroad and want to use a native SIM instead of a UK SIM, as is the case for people owning a dual SIM phone. All I needed to do was install WhatsApp on the Blackberry. Most of the archived messages appeared to have transferred, but on close examination a couple of weeks worth were missing, perhaps because they hadn't yet been back up. Not that it matters, there's little of importance that hasn't already been copied elsewhere. 

Then it was a case of decommissioning my six year old Samsung, ready to donate to a recycling charity, when I can find one that will accept it. Fortunately there was nothing on telly that I felt was worth watching, so I finished and uploaded next Thursday's Morning Prayer video, which took me a little longer than I expected. Time to go to bed earlier than usual. Tomorrow, after a visit to our National Museum's collection of motor vehicles not on public display, we go to Kenilworth to stay overnight in order to attend the last performance of 'Squidge' on Tuesday, right at the end of their country-wide tour of a show that's gone down very well indeed with children and parents who have seen it..

Just as I was about to post this, an email came in from Rachel with the ,WAV file of her song 'Chocolate' for which I put together a promotional video slide show a few weeks ago. This is a high quality sound file, YouTube ready. All I had to do was replace the MP3 file in the saved video edit file and send to to her. Now I am pleased with the result.

Partygate reported

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. There were nine of us present. Mother Frances told us about the life of St Bede and his importance to people in the North East of England. She showed us pictures of pages in the Lindisfarne Gospels, which date from Bede's time, and over coffee afterwards revealed that her PhD study had been on these Gospel books.

When I got back I prepared the text for next week's Morning Prayer, ready for recording, and then cooked lunch. After eating I wrote a reflection on the Gerasene demoniac, remembering as I wrote, the trip Clare and I made to Jerash with Frank Dall back in 1998. 

Then I went and collected this week's grocery order from Beanfreaks, and made a separate trip to buy our weekly food bank donation and leave it at St John's. Jobs done, I went for a walk in the park listening to the five o'clock news on my phone. Finally the Sue Gray report investigating goings on in the offices at 10 Downing Street has been released today, strongly criticising the behaviour of politicians and government staff for ignoring lockdown rules. 

Boris Johnson ate humble pie before Parliament again, but shows no sign of resigning. It remains to be seen if the Tory party decide whether or not to believe that he misled Parliament and remove him. A cross party standards committee is also considering the same issue, and if it decided against him and the Tories didn't, that could further damage their prospects of re-election.

This evening, I watched 'The Repair Shop' again, and then there was a lovely documentary on BBC Four about a hermit who lives beside Loch Treig in highland Scotland. Perhaps he's the last of his kind in Britain. He's lived completely off grid for nearly forty years, foraging, fishing and catching rabbits for food. He makes a day's walk into Fort William for other supplies as there's no road to the lake for anything to be delivered. He keeps a detailed journal of every aspect of his life, having got into the habit of writing as a child, and corresponds with people he's met throughout his life and earlier travels. He also takes beautiful landscape and nature photos using a vintage Zenith SLR. 

He was persuaded to have a satellite linked alarm for emergencies, and when he had a stroke he had to be helicoptered to hospital. Since recovering he returned to his log cabin and now checks in weekly, but wonder if he will be able to live out the rest of his days in the wilderness he loves. He's even been visited by a priest whom he requested to come and bless the piece of ground where he wants to be laid to rest. From what he said about his early life, I reckon he's the same age as us.  An amazing story.

Prince of Muck

Another warm and sunny Spring day with occasional showers. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning with eight of us present. During the day I exchanged emails with chaplaincy representatives in the Costa del Sol, sorting out flight reimbursements and briefing me about Sunday services. There was the veggie bag to collect before making lunch and the Beanfreaks grocery order to collect afterwards with only a short walk around the park late afternoon.

In the evening I watched this weeks edition of 'The Repair Shop' containing a significant item for the team to restore - an ornate Jewish prayer book which had survived. along with its owner, the horrors of the nazi concentration camp at Treblinka. The flyleaf contained the signatures of all who came out alive when it was liberated, such a powerful and cherished family heirloom. The moments of handover of cherished family mementos are often moving occasions, but this one, exceptionally so. Members of the team were equally moved at the response of its owner and the privilege they'd shared in helping conserve a historical document of such significance.

Then a documentary film called 'Prince of Muck' about the Laird of the Hebridean island of Muck, a man in his mid-seventies called Lawrence McEwan, whose great grandfather bought the island which Lawrence inherited over fifty years ago. His life's work has been dedicated to continuing the island's traditional way of life, while accepting technical innovations that improve life for everyone and encourage inhabitants to stay, or if they do go away, to return. 

His son now runs the family farm, but he still has his own small herd of free ranging cattle and looks after them himself. Being a life-long diarist, he read to camera from his journals over the years, and reflected on the changes he's seen in his life while he went on his daily round of chores. He took us to the graveyard where he wishes to be buried alongside other islanders, not in the Laird's exclusive islet Viking burial ground. "There are no walls or fences here." he explained. "My cattle will be able to visit me and walk on my grave."

It was a beautifully made film about a beautiful place and an old man at the end of his days, bearded, bent over, using walking sticks, remembering with love all that mattered most to him. If found that as a contemporary of his, it was easy to identify with him. When the credits ran at the end, it announced that he'd died just before it was shown on BBC Four. I wonder if he saw the finished product and approved of it? 

Eurovision victory for Ukraine

A warm, if slightly damp start to the day, great for the garden. Kath sent a message to say that Rachel had been delivered to Heathrow in good time for her early flight. Security clearance relieved her of a sealed jar of expensive Sicilian almond butter she was carrying, bought for Jasmine. It could have gone in the hold if she'd brought luggage with her, but she didn't. It seems that the sealed jar exceeded the 'no liquids more than 100ml in volume' rule and was detected by the  baggage scanner. What a damned waste.

We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were twenty five adults and ten children present. For the first time for both of us Communion was offered in both kinds. It took us both by surprise. St German's has yet to decide to revert to normal. I admit I wasn't sure about this, wondering if this has been thought through sufficiently, and maybe reflecting the concern of clergy who think they caught covid since the common Cup was restored to the faithful. Is it too soon? Do we need a time distance to overcome apprehension as well as the exponentially diminishing risk of contagion from the chalice? Fear from realising one's own unworthiness to receive Communion is enough to cope with, let alone those lingering epidemiological doubts. But, I did have a second booster jab nine days ago. That should minimise the risk, even if it doesn't eliminate the shadow of doubt.

As predicted, Ukraine won the Eurovision song contest on the populat vote, and the UK came second for the first time in two decades, having hovered around the null point zone during that period. There a lot more politics attached to voting behind the scenes. The expulsion from the contest of Russia and its influencers will no doubt have freed some Eastern European nations to vote differently this time.

Russia's body count in Ukraine is claimed to be fifteen thousand, with many more combatants injured and a huge loss of military hardware. Russian troops have given up trying to take Kharkiv, the second city of Ukraine, nearer the border, a key target for the past three months. Russian efforts are all being diverted to taking the Donbass region, forcing a strategic corridor between Donetsk and the Black Sea. Will they succeed? given that they underestimated resources needed from the outset, on top of rallying support for Ukraine from Europe and North America contributing to successful defence so far. 

As the cost is counted, will it lead to regime change in the Kremlin? That's what I hope and pray for. Such a waste of life due to Putin's evil vanity project. The damage done to both Ukraine and Russia will take years to remedy once the Kremlin is occupied by leaders not stuck in the country's past.

We went for a walk in the park after lunch. It's good to see Clare's back condition improving enough to let her walk without needing the back support belt she's worn for the past month, even if she still needs a pain killer occasionally. Then, I worked on the longer version of Rachel's 'Chocolate' video, adding a few more photos and adjusting the timings. I've uploaded this and the shorter one to Google Drive and sent her a link to both for evaluation. It'll be a few days before I get a response as she'll need to recover from jet-lag first.

I then worked on next Thursday's Morning Prayer upload, recording, editing, making the video slide show. The hardest part was finding a place in the house that was quiet enough to avoid background noise distractions, as Clare was on the phone upstairs, the fan over was whirring in the kitchen, and up in my back room study, when the gas boiler fell quiet, it was the sound of next door's dog barking. When at last it was quiet enough in the middle room downstairs, the distant sound of gulls in the garden registered on my recording device while I was speaking. A test of patience and persistence to get the job done. I continued after supper and completed and uploaded it by nine. 

A welcome message came in from Rachel at half past eight to say she'd arrived safely at PHX. We all miss her terribly. With nothing much else of interest on telly when I stopped work at nine, I watched the second episode of 'Blacklist' on 5USA. Another complex chess game of a spy mystery drama, with the occasional burst of hyper violence thrown in for those unable to follow convoluted plots, and actors with wooden expressions to complete the picture of glitzy dullness. I went to bed straight after the news. 

Sweden has now offically announced its request to join NATO in addition to Finland. Putin says there will be 'consequences', but what that actually means, nobody knows.  

Another day with the children

Mother Frances phoned at nine to ask me to cover the Eucharist at Saint Catherine's as she'd been called upon to do some urgent trouble shooting. 

An email from Ruth arrived containing next week's texts for Morning Prayer. I was relieved to learn that after ten weeks of slogging our way through readings from the Old Testament, we're changing back to the New Testament reading of the day, currently from Luke's Gospel. It's been hard work preparing a weekly reflection on difficult to understand and sometimes complex un-redacted narrative passages, a satisfying challenge, but every time posing the question of why we're reading them now, and what relevance are they in our contemporary situation. Some of the lessons have been so long that the average time for reciting the simplified version of the Office and a 4-5 minute interpretation has crept up from ten to fourteen minutes. A challenge to the audience's attention span.

Then I had a panic email from my sister as neither her landline nor her mobile phone were working. I tried both devices and got a line engaged message on each. It suggested that there was an area wide network outage in her part of London. I explained in reply what I thought had happened and hoped that she would understand. Nothing to be done but wait until things rectified themselves in these circumstances, I said.

When I got back from church I found a text message and two emails from Google giving different codes to verifiy June's Gmail account, for which mine is the back-up address. I tried ringing her and got through straight away this time. I seems she'd started emailing Age Concern Wandsworth to find out if others were experiencing the network outage, and then had Google's two step verification login process sprung on her, and didn't know how to handle it. I was able to sort this out by logging into her account thereby avoiding further digital chaos. All in a morning's work. I wish Google's security preoccupation could be exercised without its protocols being so disruptive and annoying, if not confusing to the end user.

The four of us went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields before lunch, then afterwards while Clare was resting, Owain Rachel and I went to collect the Beanfreaks grocery order. Owain had to return to Bristol, as he must work tomorrow, so after tea, we had a photo session in the garden before driving him to the station.

It's sad that he and Rachel have only had this morning and afternoon together, and won't be able to meet again before she returns to Arizona next weekend. It's painful that Kath Rachel and Owain haven't been able to meet together on their own or with us to be fully re-united as a family, but it's what the demands of work do and have done throughout history.

Rachel cooked us a lovely lentil and veg dish for supper. Then I watched 'The Repair Shop' and the last episode of 'Life after Life'. Such a beautifully crafted period piece movie serial, but with a story line in so many fragments of alternatively imagined realities that it was hard to make sense of, or know how it really ended. Disappointing.

Today Boris Johnson has signed a mutual defence aid pact with Sweden and Finland. It's an agreement ahead of applications by both nations to join NATO, a process which could take half a year. The war in Ukraine is continues, causing so much grief and suffering to millions with little progress towards end being made by either side at the moment. Armies of the three nations already co-operate and on times train together, but this pact is a way of discouraging Putin from springing any nasty surprises upon these Baltic nations to distract attention from the Ukrainian conflict and gain an advantage. Hopefully it won't mean much in practice, though it is a publicity coup for Boris to be seen to be doing something while the political ground at home is so rocky for him. 

Crime scene for real

We learned from the neighbourhood WhatsApp group this morning that the son of a Meadow Street resident was mugged in the lane at the end of the street last night. We've had burglaries before, but for a young man to be threatened by a knife wielding assailant is out of the ordinary for this quiet neighbourhood. The lane is poorly lit with a few places where someone could conceal themselves beforehand. 

It may be a one-off, someone using the lane as a short cut, desperate for money for a fix. Drug dealing does occur on the streets around here, I've glimpsed exchanges happening between young adults in hoodies occasionally. It remains to be seen now if there's a repeat performance, but after this exchange of messages, neighbours will be on the alert.

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's with six others this morning. Then I fetched this week's veggie bag, and cooked us lunch. After an afternoon walk in the park, I started work on Morning Prayer and next week's biblical reflection. I was interrupted by a Police constable making routine enquiries after the crime, She was clad in black, with long blond hair in a plait, reminding me of a character in a British telly crime drama.

For a change, I watched Channel 4's evening news this evening, featuring a reporter with Ukrainian troops in the region of Donetsk. It's the first time I've heard mention of military hardware in use donated by NATO countries. There have been more Russian missile strikes against the railway network, aiming to hinder deployment of imported weapons. A Ukrainian commander spoke of Russian soldiers making  repeated attacks without variation in tactics, men used unimaginatively as cannon fodder in the faint hope of overwhelming opponents who know their ground and what they are fighting for. 

One report I read today stated that Russia is losing 400 soldiers a day. The tabloid media alleges that the Russian campaign failure is causing concern among senior military figures. Russian social media is said to be rife with speculation about a military coup brewing against Putin's regime. But can tabloid media be trusted not to make up stories, even if they tout optimistic propaganda? No reports of this kind have been issued by radio or TV news broadcasts so far. We can but pray.

Museum showcased

I went to St Catherine's this morning and celebrated the Eucharist with a congregation of four. Responded to an appeal by Emma to cover the Sunday Mass at St Peter's Fairwater the Sunday after next while she's on sick leave after the same minor surgery as I had. 

There was house cleaning to do, which didn't get done on Monday, and the veggie bag to be collected before cooking lunch.  Then, another walk to the shops to collect our grocery order from Beanfreaks. Non stop domesticity today.

A belated birthday card arrived from Rachel and Jasmine, plus an unusual fridge magnet with a colourful design on it designed by Jasmine. A nice little surprise.

This evening on telly, another marvellous insight into the work of the V&A museum's conservators, this week showing preparations for a special exhibition of 20th century African fashion and design, featuring a Ghanaian woman's Kente cloth, bought to wear at the Christening of her first child in 1960. It also showed photographs taken by James Borner a Ghanaian man who worked in Accra and London, pioneering the use of colour photography with African fashionistas as his subjects. Aged 92, he was interviewed at an exhibition preview, expressing satisfaction at having his work recognised at last, albeit thirty years later than he'd have liked to have this happen! 

The programme also highlighted a unique collection of Rodin bronze sculptures loaned to the museum, when they couldn't be returned to Paris at the outbreak of World War One. It was controversial at that time for a major collection of work by a living artist to be shown in a museum. Rodin was so pleased at the way his work was displayed, he decided to give the priceless collection to the V&A. What a rewarding hour's viewing.  

The Archbishop of Canterbury's Easter sermon condemnation of the government policy of exporting some asylum seekers to Rwanda to deter people smuggling seems to have met with much public approval, but not from the Prime Minister whose ill judged, poorly informed backlash remarks about Anglican church leaders will doubtless contribute further to a decrease in his popularity and authority. He is helping to make his party un-electable by clinging on to power since his lies and deceit have been unmasked. There's none so blind as those who refuse to see the truth.

Stranger than fiction

It's three days since Clare tested covid positive. She now has a nasty sore throat, and was up much earlier than me and made her own breakfast. I still don't have any symptoms. Annoyingly my left ear is so full of wax that I can hardly hear and the pressure increase on the ear drum affects my head. Days of lubricating with olive oil before anything can be done to clear the blockage.

Before cooking a lentil with mushroom dish for lunch I completed Thursday's Morning Prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube. A beautiful big bunch of Mothering Sunday flowers for Clare from the children  arrived at the door while I was working. Yesterday after church Sheila came by with a presentation gift box of fruit from the Parish to its mothers. Such a nice thought, and just at the right time, saving me a trip to the supermarket on Sunday, as we were about to run out of fruit.

I did our weekly grocery shopping this afternoon, then went for a walk down to the river. Our neighbour Miriam is looking after a friend's golden retriever for a few weeks and was also on her way to Blackweir. The dog enjoys fetching a ball thrown into the river, and as the water level is low at the moment it's quite safe to do this. 

We stood and chatted on the river bank for a while, and then I walked up the path along the river bank for the first time this year. During the really wet winter weather it was treacherously muddy to walk on most of the time. A lot of work has been done cutting back bramble bushes and taking away fallen trees and branches, as well as completing the construction of the riding school paddock's boundary fence. The path is now one and a half to two metres wide on average, twice what it used to be, but it'll still get very slippery when it rains.

As usual, being a Monday, I watched the newest NCIS season 18 episode, and watched the news before turning in. There are still talks about talks going on between Russia and Ukraine, but building sufficient trust for the process to bear fruit is not going to be easy. Breaking news was about negotiations in Belarus in which sanctioned billionaire Roman Abramovich, owner of Chelsea football club was taking part being targeted by a mild poison attack, causing alarming irritation not injury, but interpreted as a threat. There are some secret players in the power game wanting to sabotage any dialogue. But who? Is this true, and not a smokescreen invented to conceal what is really happening? At the moment, real life events are as full of bizarre and terrible surprises as any melodramatic spy novel. And thousands are still suffering and dying.

Digital weapons and defences

Intriguing news this morning that a senior Kremlin figure who had been a patron of Putin's leadership  has broken with him over the war in Ukraine and left the country. A small sign of hope. All we need now is several more to do likewise publicly, and that could trigger a change that will result in an end to the war. Putin cannot survive unless he has united support, methinks. Meanwhile this terribly cruel conflict continues. The Russians are said to have lost about fifteen thousand soldiers. There are no comparable figures for Ukrainiansoldiers or civilians killed.

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning, with ten others, then fetched this week's veggie bag before lunch. When I got home there was a small package in the post for me from my sister June. It's a small protective wallet to house bank cards with a safety lining that prevents anyone with the right device from reading the data on one's cards and using the information to steal from your bank account. Up until now my card wallet has had an aluminium foil lining, which also works, but wears had needs to be replaced regularly to serve its purpose.

I made a draft of next Sunday's sermon, then worked on next week's Morning Prayer upload and recorded the audio in the afternoon, with a break while the tuner worked on Clare's piano. Rachel has sent us a lovely video of Jasmine playing jazz piano at a school concert. We knew she plays saxophone, but I wasn't aware that she's been learning the piano as well. Amazing!

When Clare went shopping for some vegan products at Beanfreaks, she found out the shop had suffered an expensive loss of fresh stock due to a fridge breakdown or power outage, not sure which, so she asked me to go over to the Tesco supermarket on Western Avenue and see what suitable products I could find there. It wasn't easy to locate what I needed, but I was successful in finding all she wanted.

After supper, I watched more episodes of the Finnish crimmie 'All the sins', which did turn out just be be a prequel to series one. It turned out to be quite a complex essay on the turn of the new millennium, as a moment of change challenging traditional religious and social values, and the impact of the emergence of female leadership on community life in a remote rural area. It made me realise how much has changed in the past twenty one years and how much we've become accustomed to since the rise of the internet and the smartphone. Who could have thought back then that they'd become weapons of war in the struggle to control the information required to rule the world?

Turmoil in Orthodox lands

Our Spanish neighbour Miriam called for Clare this morning at nine when I was having breakfast, and the two of them went for a swim together. I received a second email from my friend Valdo within a few days of the last one, which I hadn't yet got around to reading. This one told me something surprising about a previous colleague of ours from my time in Geneva. Père Jean Renneteau an Orthodox priest of the Russian Exarchate Archdiocese of Western Europe was a member of our local ministers fraternal. He hailed from Bordeaux and had trained for the Orthodox priesthood in the renowned St Sergius Institute in Paris. 

Jean was then pastor to the French speaking congregation at the international Orthodox centre in nearby Chambésy, which had two dozen nationalities among its membership. Attending the Easter Liturgy there was a wonderful multi-lingual experience with Russian liturgical music I learned to sing in English as a young student, sung there in French. Since then, Jean's responsibilities had widened considerably, both among the Orthodox in Switzerland, internationally and ecumenically. He was ordained Bishop in 2016, elected by the Oecumenical Patriarchal Synod in Istanbul, then consecrated in the church at Chambésy. I don't think I was aware of this, but it doesn't surprise me that it happened. He was then appointed Exarch - in effect, leading Bishop of the Oecumenical Patriarchate's Russian Orthodox congregations in Western Europe.

What surprised me however, was to learn that in 2019 he was received into communion with the Patriarch in Moscow, and made Archbishop of all its Russian Orthodox congregations of Western Europe. This happened a year after the Ukrainian Orthodox church unilaterally declared itself independent of Moscow. It was formally recognised by the Oecumenical Patriarchate Père Jean had been ordained to serve. The Ukrainian church initiative resulted in Moscow breaking off communion with the Oecumenical Patriarch (not that this hasn't happened before in the strained history of Orthodox international relations), but was this of sufficient concern to lead Père Jean to change allegiance? After all Père Jean isn't a native Russian speaker. Moscow lays claim to all Russian Orthodox congregations of the Exarchate in Europe whether they are Russian speaking or not. Many Exarchate congregations refuse this claim however. Is Père Jean ministering now to all the congregations or just those loyal to Moscow? It's a right puzzle, and I'm not sure how I can get any satisfactory answer.

Even more remarkable Père Jean is among the group of Orthodox theologians that has recently spoken out against the war in Ukraine and being deeply critical of the presumptions behind Putin's justification for his actions. Patriarch Kyril of Moscow has been notably silent thus far. Is Père Jean acting as his voice, or just voicing the views of the Russian Orthodox diaspora in Western Europe? It's an amazing turn of events. Père Jean is a remarkable Orthodox pastor, ecumenist, internationalist. It could be that he has the trust of each party in this ecclesiastical dispute with serious political repercussions. And to think that thirty years ago we used to have lunch together every few months in an ordinary Suisse auberge in Versoix!

I went to St Catherine's at ten, my head trying to take in these intriguing thoughts, to celebrate the Eucharist, with the usual group of ten that regularly attend. We chatted long over coffee after church and on the way back. By the time I returned home Clare was cooking lunch. Afterwards, I walked around Llandaff Fields, and then returned to see what else I could find out about the situation with the Russian Exarchate congregations in Europe. 

Curiosity then led me to see if there was any new news about Mar Johanna Ibrahim, the Archbishop of Aleppo, kidnapped with a Roman Greek Catholic Bishop, both on a hostage negotiating mission, when Aleppo was being fought over and destroyed. A couple of articles allege that both were murdered by their abductors in 2013, but neither of their bodies have been found, and the researcher's findings are unsubstantiated. Will the truth ever be known, I wonder? It's heart breaking to think that the population of indigenous Oriental Orthodox Christians in Middle Eastern Countries is a tenth of what it was at the turn of the century, due to war of islamist persecution, after one and a half millennia of co-existence.

This evening we watched 'The Repair Shop' and then the first episode of the third series of bilingual Welsh (Cymru Du) crimmie 'Hidden'. Another slow burner, I'm afraid, but atmospheric and beautifully produced.

Investigative delight

I was awake at first light again and listening to the ever disturbing news from Ukraine. There's been no let up in the fighting, except for a few respites for civilians to leave cities in conflict zones. Mariupol is still besieged, much of the city razed to the ground. A maternity hospital was shelled causing many deaths of both adults and children, as happened previously with the Russian intervention in Syria on behalf of the Assad regime. Why Putin was not challenged more vigorously over its conduct at that time amazes me. Sure the Russians were fighting against the Islamic state like everyone else, but with their own agenda.

On the economic sanctions front line, Macdonalds has shut down its eight hundred fast food outlets in Russia following the lead taken by other western branded retailer. In Russia, two eminent musical conductors quit their jobs in protest at the war. Outside Russia, some musicians and sportsmen are finding themselves boycotted whether or not they've disassociated themselves from Putin's regime. Nothing encouraging to wake up to, a fortnight after this awful war began.

Ruth called for Clare after breakfast and they went swimming together in town. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, taking the week's foodbank offering with me, as Clare had already done this week's grocery shopping. There were a dozen of us present, and most stayed for coffee afterwards. I fetched the veggie bag, and by the time I returned, Clare was home and finishing cooking lunch, which I'd started preparing before going out. Yet again I fell asleep for nearly two hours after lunch, making up for waking early. One way or another I need eight hours sleep in twenty four, and fortunately it's not too much of a disruption to get it whenever I can. When I was fully awake again, I went out for a few items of grocery we were still lacking, and then did a short circuit of the park.

I watched the last episode of Swedish crimmie 'Truth will out' after supper, then a wonderful interview given by the Dali Lama and Desmond Tutu, and another edition the archaeology magazine programme of 'Digging for Britain'. All sorts of investigative programmes I find fascinating. Last night there was one in the 'Britain's Lost Masterpieces series with art historians Bendor Grosvenor and Emma Dabiri finding pictures of interest in obscure galleries or country houses about which little or nothing is known, and then doing the detective work to identify their origin. It certainly makes a change from crime scene investigations!

Hindsight

A cold night and a grey morning to wake up to. I preached at the St Catherine's Parish Eucharist. There were about two dozen present. A retiring collection was taken for Ukraine and over £300 was raised. USPG is acting as a channel for aid donations on behalf of the diocese in Europe, which has a chaplaincy in Kyiv. I'll make my donation through them. Clare tried giving on-line through Disasters Emergency Committee channel, but was puzzled when it didn't go through properly. I suspect their banking channel was being overwhelmed at the time.

More than one and a half million Ukrainians have left the country since the invasion started. Despite the clampdown on mentioning the war, let alone protesting, there are been anti-war demonstrations in cities all over Russia, and thirteen thousand people have been arrested for protesting, four thousand of them today in Moscow, so clearly news about the war is getting out and slowly a wave of indignation is rising among the ordinary people. What would be the critical mass of numbers that would bring pressure to bear on the regime to abandon their plans, I wonder?

After lunch I sat down to relax, and was surprised to wake up two hours later. I didn't even feel tired, that's the puzzle. Then took a brisk walk up to Llandaff Cathedral, to take advantage of the climb up the Dean's Steps. I realised yesterday that I need to be climbing more steps every day, as it was hard work climbing up the steep path from shore level to cliff top, an ascent of about seventy metres. Back in the day when the CBS office was on the top floor of the Motorpoint Arena office suite, I would climb the eighty odd steps of the back stair office entrance on every visit, three or four times a week. There are a few short steep slopes around this district but nothing to compare with the Motorpoint back stairs. No wonder I find long climbs hard work these days - not breathlessness, but leg muscles stiffening.

Nothing of interest on telly this evening, so I continued work on a project for Good Friday. I am doing a midday service at St John's, and want to produce an on-line equivalent to go out at the same time. The idea is to look back from the perspective of the 'darkness at noon' enveloping Calvary to the weeks that led up to our Lord's crucifion. So many warnings given by Jesus that went unheeded, not understood by his followers. 

The present situation with Putin's brutal assault on Ukraine is posing the question - how did we not see this coming? The west is in a relationship of mutual dependency with Russia on some key trading issues as well as energy. This has developed without due heed for his mindset which was formed by the KGB in the era of soviet tyranny. How could this have not been fully taken into account in the scramble to do business? We see what we'd prefer to see, today as two thousand years ago.

Clouds of war over Eastern Europe?

Another mild day of cloud and sunshine, down south but colder weather is on its way down from Scotland by the weekend. The Russian government, driven by President Putin has made a move to acknowledge the independent republics of Donbass and Luhansk in Eastern Ukraine and it looks as if they are about to send 'peace-keeping' forces to support insurgents already unofficially sustained by Russia in an eight year long separatist campaign in these two Russian speaking regions of Ukraine. The Ukranian president has now declared a state of emergency and called up army reservists.

Western governments are imposing economic sanctions in response to the violation of Ukranian borders and the abandonment of a cease-fire treaty. The German's have stopped work on a new gas pipeline for conveying Russian gas to Europe. Gas and oil prices will rise even further now than is expected - we've just been notified of a nearly 50% rise in our energy bills, there'll be more to come. 

Putin is confident that Russia has enough of a 'war chest' in financial reserves to carry out his strategic aims regardless of economic sanctions imposed by the international community. His actions threaten the stability of the global economy already stressed by the pandemic. He is gambling that everyone else will pull back as he steadily and persistently encroaches on neighbouring states. It's a very disturbing affair.

There were eight of us at the St Catherine's Eucharist this morning. Ann, Marlene and Paul were absent as Paul caught covid so Ann and Marlene have left him to look after himself until he's over it. What bad luck! Paul is a keen cyclist, out in all kinds of weather. Hopefully, fitness and vaccinations will get him through this without too much distress.

After church I went and collected this week's veggie bag, then cooked a veggie pasta dish for lunch. It turned out just right for both of us with different ingredients, and a mixture of ordinary and gluten free pasta whose difference in cooking times I wasn't sure of, but my best guess timing was satisfactory.

I needed a siesta again after lunch. I don't know why I seem to need so much sleep, when I'm feeling quite well. Even if I'm not bursting with energy currently, and walking a bit slower, I'm not exactly dragging my feet. I suppose I can always blame it on the changeable weather.

Ruth's weekly email briefing about the material for Morning Prayer came in, and flagging up a change in selection of readings from an New Testament to an Old Testament passage. We'll follow the Joseph saga for the next few weeks, as is traditional in the Daily Office readings for Lent. It will make quite a difference to the reflections I write! The change will do me good. Other people too I hope.

Walking in the park this afternoon, and St Catherine's churchyard this morning, I noticed snowdrops and masses of crocuses are starting to fade away. Big patches of daffodils have appeared and are flowering where only a few were present from mid January. Several different varieties are now flourishing. It's something to do with the milder weather and longer days I suppose. Winter flowering trees are looking spectacular now, and in a short while the fat buds of the Magnolia trees in next door's garden and in Thompson's Park will burst into flower.

Another fascinating 'Digging for Britain' programme on BBC Four this evening, the only thing worth watching. I spent time beforehand reading my novel in Spanish again. The more I do the easier it gets, even though there's still lots of vocabulary I have to guess rather than look up to maintain a reasonable reading pace.

Lost watch found

I was in bed just after eleven last night, reading for three quarters of an hour before lights out, and didn't wake up until a quarter to nine this morning. I don't understand why I seem to need such a lot of sleep, nowadays. At least I didn't feel the need for a siesta after lunch. One way or another eight and a half hours a day seems to be what I need at the moment, no matter when I get it.

After breakfast Eucharist at St Catherine's with a dozen of us present. We're all of retirement age, but that is good in itself, showing confidence in resuming normal activity is returning. Getting back to normal on Sundays is happening more slowly, perhaps because less mobile people are happy to stay with on-line services. Mother Frances says that Canton on-line services have a far better than average attendance.  What this really means for the church in the diocese and its future in the face of catastrophic decline is too early to know or predict.

Several of us chatted at length over coffee after the service. Part of it was a discussion about the origins of the Pastoral Epistles in the New Testament. We've just begun to read them in the on-line Morning Prayer daily offering from the Parish. This made me think about the reflection I prepared last weekend for posting tomorrow. When I got back home I looked at it again, and decided to revise and re-record it. Easy, given the work done on audio and video components is still there on my laptop. It meant another hour's of revising and recording, but I was satisfied the reflection worked much better for doing this. Next week's texts arrived while working, so when one was finished I started writing another reflection on a 2 Timothy passage fitting well with the revision just made. By the evening I had next week's full audio track completed too. It felt like time well spent.

Clare cooked the last of Mr Berry's Christmas purchase of sausages for lunch which I worked. After I'd eaten I went and collected this week's organic veggie bag, and then went for a walk in the park before resuming recording next week's offering. Then a couple of favourite telly programmes after supper. The Repair Shop and Digging for Britain to inspire and amaze. 

The big amazement of the day however, was that my lost Casio digital watch re-surfaced. Ten days ago I realised it was missing and could only recall wearing it on a shopping visit to Aldi when I presumed it went missing, but not so! This morning I turned the mattress on my bed. Later when putting fresh linen on it once more, Clare found the watch on the floor by the wall. From this, I can only deduce that I took it off when on the bed, put it down on the duvet instead of  the usual tray. Then when I flipped the duvet it fell on the floor, but exactly when this happened will remain a mystery. Another instance of how the memory can play tricks on you.

Lethal ambition

I attended the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. There were eight of us altogether. We had coffee and a chat afterwards about the Old Testament lesson in the service, which was the story of King David, the census and the plague. To a modern audience it seems rather bizarre and cruel and needs explanation. I remember reflecting on it when it arose in the scripture readings two years ago during my sojourn in Ibiza as the epidemic turned into a pandemic. 

King David finds out the hard way that God thinks he has no business counting the number of able bodied fighting men to organise for his army. This shepherd king of Israel's big idea encroaches on God's unique role as protector and defender of Israel, and the deadly plague people must survive is a harsh lesson about not getting ideas above your station. It's not obvious until you look at other stories in which God instructs his people to reduce rather than increase an armed force to tackle an enemy invader, so victory is secured against the odds, by God's grace. Sometimes hysterical panic causes an enemy to flee, or else it's inspired ingenuity and surprise tactics that win the day. All the Israelites need is courage and confidence that victory belongs to God, regardless of numbers. Beware of ambition!

After lunch, a trip to the shops then a walk in the park. The first few daffodils are now in full flower. also crocuses, and the carpet of snowdrops under the trees in the avenue down to the stables has grown ten fold in under a week, thanks to relatively mild weather. Then, writing a biblical reflection for next Thursday. The lectionary has switched now so that we're no longer reading a passage of a Gospel, but a passage from one of Paul's Pastoral Epistles.. It's a different kind of challenge from working on passages from a story. An interesting one too, as Paul's world is in so many ways different from ours.

This evening we watched 'The Repair Shop' and 'Digging for Britain' once again, two specially appealing telly programmes we both enjoy. Then a call from Owain, just back from doing an internet radio techno music programme from a studio over in the St Paul's Area - half a mile from where he was born. 

Recalling times past

A good relaxed night's sleep and when I woke at seven and looked out of the window at first light, Venus was shining brightly in a sky that was turning deep blue, a wondrous sight. Then after breakfast, a walk to St Catherine's to sit in the congregation for the Candlemas Eucharist. I didn't want to dress up and sing in the choir, just be on the receiving end. Apart from holiday weekends I've had a service to take every Sunday since last summer. It's good to be idle end for a change.

We had lunch early and then went for a walk through Bute Park. It was bright and sunny but very cold. We noticed that tree surgeons have been at work in the past week or so clearing some storm damaged trees in the woods. The most notable tree that has been removed, however is one beside the riverside footpath past the cricket stadium. For the past five years that I can recall it has inclined at a very steep angle from the bank below the path and right over it. It hasn't borne and leaves for a long time. If it had, I suspect one of the increasing number of storms we experience would have brought it down. But no, 

I have often walked that way these past few years, to check after a storm. This afternoon, it was gone, and most of it had been cut up and taken away, only its twin stumps remaining. These now seem a little more upright in the ground than they were when bearing several tons of timber. How the tree was never uprooted, with its roots embedded in a slope is hard to grasp. Certainly now, the path is safer than it has been for many years.

I wanted to break in the shoes I bought last week, and wore two pairs of socks, but this made them uncomfortably tight on my left foot, so I took off the thinner inner sock when we were out in the woods. Although I recall putting it in a jacket pocket, it must have fallen out some stage on the rest of the walk. It's the second thing I've lost in just a few days.

When I went shopping to Aldi's on Friday, I think that when I was putting on a laden rucksack, I lost my Casio digital watch, caught in the strap and breaking off my wrist. I didn't notice at the time, since I often go without a watch these days. Its strap was too thick and not long enough so it didn't feel totally secure, but I didn't know what to do about this. Over forty years I've owned four of the same Casio digital watches, run them until they finally died, except this last one, lost forever. I went back to Aldi's Saturday evening and nothing had been handed in. Ah well, I've still got the analogue faced digital watch my sister June gave me some time ago.

After supper I spent another hour scanning some more strips of film negatives I'm slowly making my way through before disposing of them - some from a retreat with the Anglican Sisters of the Ascension at Montauroux in the Var, others from a New Year family holiday ski outing to Ovronnaz in the Valais, back in the mid nineties. 'Prasada', the Sisters community house closed ten years ago and the remaining women re-located to Devon. It's rewarding me to happy recollections of times past, even if the photos aren't all that marvellous. Pictures of me with cropped hair, clean shaven, and with a salt 'n pepper beard and Clare with longer hair than she ever has it now. Different phases of life.

Then I watched the last three episodes of the French family drama 'Beyond Appearances'. The tragedy of an unexpected suicide resolves into a strangely happy ending by a circuitous route, which explores the concealed depths of family relationships and the dynamics that prevent people from flourishing. Quite well written I'd say, and worth watching.