Farewell to an old friend

The temperature went down to minus four overnight. Poor Owain, sleeping on the self inflating airbed in the lounge couldn't escape the chilly draught through the air vent that's also the fast access route for slugs from the garden. A noble gesture to allow his dad to sleep in his usual bed. A text message and email from British Telecom notified me of tomorrow's account switch from TalkTalk to BT. An OpenReach engineer visits on Thursday to configure the broadband link to work with the new 'digital voice' landline equivalent.

After breakfast, Kath drove me to St German's for Fr Roy's funeral Mass. Clare, Kath, Rachel and Owain went into the town centre for present shopping. It's Anto's birthday next weekend. The church was full of parishioners, family friends and colleagues from far and wide. Roy was a remarkable individual who lived the adventure of faith with humour, compassion, wise insight and great love for people, a charismatic personality, outgoing and always ready to celebrate life in all its fullness. The Solemn Requiem Mass was presided over by Fr Richard Lowndes, with Bishop Barry Morgan in choir and Fr Jarel officiating over the funeral rites.

Roy's god daughter delivered the eulogy, and Bishop Mary, who was unable to attend wrote a special prayer of thanksgiving for Roy's life. Bishop Michael Marshall preached a fine sermon reflecting on Roy's life as a pastor and priesthood in old age. He spoke about the clergy retirement experience of no longer feeling needed that comes when a priest is no longer in a leadership role, and the sense that part of a person called to ministry is the need to feel needed.

Last night I lay awake pondering on the impact and significance of the stroke which brought a halt to my active ministry. The haiku I wrote just before Christmas sums it up. 

Despite the chaos
of motion and sensation.
'Time to stop' it warns. 
Pay full attention and come 
to terms with yourself.

Coming to terms with myself is about accepting my new limitations, being grateful for moments when I'm reminded by others of how God's grace has been revealed in relationships which have influenced their lives and mine. Also in being ministered rather than ministering to others. A Word which speaks to my condition. The liturgy was traditional, catholic, beautifully choreographed and executed with moments of deep silence and singing. The hymns were those chosen for golden jubilee of his ordination. Roy would have loved it. Starting at noon, I knew I'd be at risk of low blood sugar, so I took some dates and mini pork pies with me, just in case. I wasn't overwhelmed by the stimulus of such a great celebration, not even at the buffet lunch reception in the crowded church hall after. I chatted with a few people I knew, then made my way to the nearest stop on Newport Road for a city centre bus. As I was on the move, a call from Kath told me she was taking Owain to the train station. He has to work tomorrow. We couldn't rendezvous for a farewell hug as time was too tight, so we took our leave of each other on the phone. It was sunset by the time I reached home. It was overcast, dark and drizzling, though not as cold as it has been in recent days.

Kath's school friend Mandy came for supper. It was good to see her again. She still looks a younger than her age. She's now one of the senior librarians at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, in charge of a collection of original musical scores, amongst other things, a dream job for her. Both her sons are musicians, one a rock drummer, the other a classical concert pianist. Amazing how the children's children turn out. After Mandy left Rachel and I played together for a while. It was hard going for me, as my hand muscles were painfully stiff from family music sessions over the past few days By ten the girls were on their way to bed, and I wasn't far behind. Our internet speed has dropped considerably. It's a consequence of the service providor switch taking effect I guess.

Life's end for a loved missionary pastor

Sub zero temperature overnight, and a chilly start to a bright sunny day. I had a fairly restful night's sleep. Nine and a half hours in bed, two hours sleep lost due to my bladder. I'm peeing less overnight than I was before, but suspect I'm still dehydrating at night as my bowel motion is quite fluid. It may have something to do with blood thinners interacting with other medication, affecting digestive system chemistry. I'm not yet properly stable. After breakfast I was overwhelmed with tiredness and slept in the armchair for another hour. All I can do is listen to my body and accept its demands and resist pushing myself. 

I had a message from Veronica who had her knee replacement operation yesterday. It sounds as if it was technically demanding because of the extent of bone wear and tear. She's being fed a lot of pain control medication at the moment and kept in hospital over the weekend.

Former government politicians were interviewed about criticism of their actions by the Covid Report on the Today programme, giving them an opportunity to account for their actions while in office. Reports of misbehaviour in the 10 Downing Street office, it's bound to reawaken anger over botched decision making leading to so many untimely and perhaps unnecessary deaths. On Woman's Hour later on interviewee who witnessed the damaging effect of government isolation policy on elderly people in care homes, called for Boris Johnson to be barred as unfit to stand for public office again. He resigned as Prime Minister and MP after the 'Partygate' lockdown scandal and didn't stand in last year's General Election. Would he dare now?

There was a discussion with Michael Gove about covid quarantine rules and their enforcement, in which it was noted that Sweden's covid death rate was lower relying on voluntary compliance to similar rules. The explanation he offered for this was that social and economic inequality in Sweden is less than in Britain. This influences the state of health for those suffering deprivation and poverty. It was an almost casual remark, but a strong indictment of UK society and its distribution of wealth.

I cooked the veg for lunch while Clare was out shopping and forgot to start the fish cooking at the same time, my brain was feeling a bit scrambled. Clare quickly noticed however and with a joint effort we had lunch on time, more or less. Troubling news came in as we were about to eat of the conviction for bribery of the leader of the Welsh Brexit, UKIP and Reform Parties Nathan Gill. He was paid cash sums by a Russian propaganda agent to make pro-Russian statements in the European Parliament and media  in Ukraine as a Brexit party MEP. He was even a Senedd Member for two years. Aiding and abetting a foreign adversary is nothing short of treason. It's most embarrassing for far right political parties in Britain. Presumably there will be some sort of enquiry into how a 'fifth columnist' could rise to leadership in this way. How much did MI5 and MI6 know about this? since it's been going on for several years.

I walked in the park after lunch until the sun set and completed my daily step target. It was cold, but fresh air did me good. I had an hour and a half WhatsApp conversation with Roy Thomas in Madrid. He tried to call me a couple of times while I was out walking but for some odd reason my phone didn't alert me - not even by buzzing. It wasn't on 'Do not disturb'. I don't know what the problem is. Later in the evening I had an hour on WhatsApp with Rachel talking about my current health concerns and how to deal with stress. 

Then I had a message from Martin reporting the death of Fr Roy Doxsey, former Vicar of St German's and a great urban missionary priest. He was a school chaplain in Zambia and Brecon with an inspiring if traditional  non-trendy ministry to young people. 

We worked together as church appointed governors of Tredegarville school, and in the run-up to his retirement just after mine. That led to me doing long stints of vacancy duty at St German's for the next fifteen years under three different incumbents. Roy was the soul of hospitality the pastor who knew his community and was known and loved by the people whose lives he shared. A few years ago he was on his way home when he was hit by a car and seriously injured, with broken bones and head injury. He made a fair recovery, but was weakened by it, being a couple of years older than me. He was living independently until recently, but needed an increasing amount of support and care in the last year of his life. 

I'll remember him especially for ending his blessing of the people at a service by saying "the blessing of God almighty Father Son and Holy Spirit come down upon you and remain with you and all those you love, and ought to love, now and always." It was his recognition of the truth that as God's children we're all still a work in progress. May he rest in peace and rise in glory.

Eid on Mothering Sunday

Another clear blue sky sunny day, waking up an hour earlier in effect to start the day at the usual Sunday time. It's Eid al fitr, the end of Ramadan for Muslims today, Mothering  for church goers and Mothers Day for the greeting card and flower industry. BBC's Sunday religious news programme highlighted the fiesta, and promised a live broadcast of Eid prayers from a Bradford mosque for the first time, and there's a live entertainment programme this evening. It's an interesting milestone in the history of the BBC, reflecting the fact that the number of Muslims in the population is four million. Although a third of the population describe themselves as Christian, only three and a half million attend regular worship. Christians are well represented in terms of broadcast air-time, so it's right that the BBC is making an effort to ensure Muslims are adequately represented as well.

I celebrated and preached at St German's this morning, seven months since I last did, and four months since I last sat in the congregation. I was touched to receive a warm welcome from many members of the congregation. There were forty five of us in church, including former Vicar of Tonyrefail Ruth Moverly, whom we both know from the meditation group Diana used to run in her house some time ago. I enjoyed stepping back into the familiar ritual setting, though it was a bit of an effort with an hour's less time in bed, plus it takes me half the morning to feel fully awake. I really could do with getting up early and going for a walk to oxygenate my brain before breakfast to be at my best for the rest of the day. By the end of Mass, I felt much more awake thankfully.

It was a quarter past one before I reached home for lunch. Afterwards I slept in the chair again for over an hour, which at least meant that I felt more awake when it was time to go for a walk. The park was busy with people enjoying the spring afternoon sunshine. A group of about a hundred of all ages were enjoying pizzas together, an Eid party, probably from one mosque. Men and boys played football nearby, women and children were grouped together in a circle of prams and pushchairs, elderly women and men sat in a separate circle, with another large mixed group standing chatting in between them. Quite a sight.

Clare joined me to walk together for a while. She can't walk for so long or so fast these days, but it was nice to sit on a park bench and enjoy the sunshine together. After supper I watched the rest of 'Flowers over the inferno.' In the last half hour a mystery is unravelled, somewhat confusingly as the complex back story to a series of present crimes dates pack forty years and is told far too rapidly to make sense, though I spotted the hidden perpetrator early on. There was a poorly conceived scene in the run up to the final crisis in which a spool of 35mm movie film runs out and the miraculously started re-running while the dramatic action plays out. There's another mystery too in mise en scene. The wonderful Tyrolean alpine landscape is partly covered with snow, but  large melted patches make it look like it's spring, when the big seasonal festa during which the story is enfolding is St Nicholas, 6th December. There are other scenes with snow falling, or hoar frost on the trees, but the rate of change in a succession of scenes to another is implausible as if the movie editor was taking 'artistic' liberties that didn't really make sense. This distracts from the story being told. 

The story, past and present, concerned child abuse of different kinds. The six episode series covered one novel by Ilaria Tuti, featuring Commissaria Teresa Battaglia as a criminal profiler working with a couple of male inspectors, and keeping them on their toes all the time. This seems to be a feature of the Italian crimmies. The role in the story of the supportive friendship of four ten year olds, two of whom weren't strangers to physical abuse, was well portrayed and the kids were just marvellous. They reminded me a little of the Famous Five in children's stories when I was young, except that they were just four. It seems there's another series based on another crimmie featuring Teresa Battaglia is in the pipeline, but it'll be a while before that sees the light of day I suspect.

And that was it - time for bed now.

Advent awakening recalled

It rained in the night, but cleared for a while in the morning and the sun broke through the clouds. A good eight hours sleep, following an early night. I benefit from going to bed early but struggle to change my routine, as I enjoy remembering reflecting and writing while I relax at the end of the day.

I drove to St German's for Mass for a change and joined a congregation of thirty for a traditional Advent Sunday Liturgy. Fr Jarel didn't preach, as a Parish bring and share lunch was going to follow the service, combined with a group conversation envisaging the next ten years in church life, leading up to the 150th anniversary celebrations. I didn't know this was happening and didn't consider staying on. I am after all part of the past fourteen years of St German's and may not live long enough to see the day. At least the sun shone during the service, always a consolation in such a beautiful light filled building. 

I set out for home half an hour earlier than I normally would. The traffic across the city centre was very slow and took fifteen minutes longer than the journey there. I arrived earlier than Clare expected, so she'd been late starting lunch, not that it mattered., I opened a bottle of Italian Merlot that I won at the Christmas Fayre last week and listened to the news once I laid the table. 

The sky clouded over again by the time I went for an afternoon walk in the park. There was a lot of water on the roads from earlier showers and my lower half got soaked by a car driving through a water filled pothole. Later on there was a ten minute shower of rain, soaking my top jacket. Although my trousers dried out while I was walking, they needed washing as roadside puddle water is inevitably dirty water.

After an early supper we went to St Catherine's for the Advent Carol service. Nearly four dozen people attended. There was meant to be a bidding prayer at the start of the service, but it didn't happen. I suspect nobody reminded Fr Sion that he needed to provide his own text for this. There is a suitable one in the Oxford Carols for Choirs, which needs to be provided for the officiating cleric, or they need to be told in advance so that they come prepared. I've been nearly caught out by this before and glad that I'm no longer responsible and facing the congregation for worship.

Being in the congregation for Advent Sunday holds a special memory for me. In my first term as an undergraduate, I attended a silent retreat at a convent in Salisbury which catalysed a spiritual awakening in me that opened a way to contemplate the mystery of God. As a child I went to the early Communion service with my mother and this made an impression on me. I connect these two experiences as markers on my journey which set me in the direction life has taken me. 

Fifty seven years of active participation in the church's mission and ministry later, in response to a call which first came to me through others, I still wonder if I made the right choice. I never felt comfortable about being in the social role of a clergyman and it took time to feel completely at ease acting as a priest and preacher representing the church before God, and God's Word to the church. It's a matter of learning to pray all over again when performing the priestly role. When you no longer occupy the role it's a matter of re-discovering if not learning, how to pray as an individual member of the Body, blessed with the time and space in which to do so.

And now, another effort to get to bed earlier and change my habit!

Unsettled Bank Holiday

Rain overnight again with the sun occasionally breaking through clouds and showers during the day, again more like autumn than summer. I drove to St German's to celebrate Mass in the absence of Fr Jarel this morning. It's must be six months since I was here as a locum priest during the last vacancy. No changes in the way the service is done, except that the high altar table was shifted eastward by about a metre for the St German's Day celebration in which Fr Jarel had his back to the congregation, after having spoken about the significance of this during the sermon. Apparently he reverted to the status quo the following week but the altar hasn't yet been returned to its original position. It really does require four strong weighty people to shift without risk.

This is only the second time in three months that I've officiated and preached at a Sunday sermon. While I enjoyed doing so and fitted into the liturgical ritual with relaxed ease, tiredness reminded me at the end of of the service how much energy it required to do this well. I have come to enjoy being in the congregation and coming away refreshed rather than drained by worship. Very much a sign of advancing age.

Basma wasn't in the congregation today. I learned that she'd been moved into emergency accommodation at the Holiday Inn out at Tongwynlais on Thursday this week. As her asylum seeker's tenure ended, it had be vacated in favour of an arriving asylum seeker. Her accommodation needs are handed over to Cardiff City Council, and she'll have to wait until 'temporary' housing is found for her, where she'll stay until she's eligible to go on the Council housing waiting list - a process that can take several years. I can't imagine a worse time to be relocated than just before a Bank Holiday weekend. There are concerns about her health because she needs to be on a restricted diet, and her mobility, as she's unsteady on her feet. This has quite an impact on the ease with which suitable accommodation can be found. It's tough for her, but she is used to fighting for herself, and is sometimes reluctant to accept help as a result.

By the time I'd chatted with fellow worshippers after the service and eaten fruit cake with coffee twice, it was twenty past one when I got home, even though the roads were almost empty with many people away from the city having a good time elsewhere. After lunch and a brief snooze I went for a walk in the park. 

I emailed Basma to find out how she's adjusting to her new circumstances. With difficulty was the response. No provision has been made for her strict dietary needs. Leaving the Holiday Inn is a problem as it has a steep drive, difficult to walk down safely for her. There are no pavements along the roadside for walking into Tongwynlais village. It may be a Holiday Inn, but in effect it's a motel. Heaven help you if you don't have a car. I phoned her to see if I could be of any help. She's on survival rations until Tuesday and is hoping to negotiate with the hotel manager and kitchen staff about dietary food preparation. But no, she didn't need help. Independent, just as I expected.

This evening a new series of 'Sherwood' started on BBC1. It's set in the present day, thirty years on from the previous series, set in the same community whose loyalties were divided by differences over pit closures and the miners' strike. It starts with a murder and its repercussions with suspicions of a return to gang warfare, but is there something else going here?  There's another episode tomorrow night.

Resignation surprise

Up at eight on a grey sky day. I drove to St German's after breakfast to attend Mass and sign the baptismal register, as I'd been unable to on Saturday night and left with Churchwarden Peter a small gift for Basma. Fr Jarel mentioned Dean Richard Peers in the prayers, It seems that he announced his early retirement on Sunday morning. Somebody else mentioned it to me yesterday, but I thought they must have been mistaken. It seems the ordeal of enduring a vexatious complaint process which started during his time at Christchurch College Oxford has taken its toll on him. Only last week was he exonerated by a clergy disciplinary court and his accusers castigated. It's so sad for the diocese to lose a gifted priest in this way. He's not the first senior cleric to quit recently. Does the church know any longer how to care for and protect its pastors?

When I returned, Clare was already cooking an early lunch, as she had an afternoon eye appointment at UHW. After we'd eaten I drove her there, then returned and went for a walk. It drizzled most of the time while I was out, but I got back just as the rain got heavier. The rest of the day I spent watching episodes of 'This Town'. It's a moving portrayal of dystopian life in outer suburban council housing areas in East Birmingham and Coventry at the time when the IRA was active in the West Midlands, with a spy thriller story embedded in it, in addition to a story about young people's striving to make a break their inherited family scripts. Of particular interest to me is the portrayal of non institutional religion in their lives.

Unforgettable initiation

I woke up early to a bright sunny day, though still chilly. We had a leisurely breakfast with added festive croissants and Easter eggs, delivered if not consumed. added. Then we walked into town accompanying  Owain who had to return home early to prepare for a deejaying gig this evening. He wanted to visit M&S to buy some socks, as Bristol no longer has a convenient city centre store, so we went with him and had a  coffee there once Owain left for the station. In the menswear section, he bumped into an old friend of his from the Cardiff techno scene, with whom he had corresponded only yesterday. Sheer coincidence, which gave pleasure to both of them. Anto hadn't been to the city centre for several years and was curious to see how different it looks as a result of the redevelopment, so I gave him a guided tour of all the new builds, then we walked home along the Taff.

We went to Stefanos for an early evening meal at five, so I could leave in good time to drive to St German's for the Easter Vigil at St German's by seven. When Basma arrived we went through the detail of the baptismal rite together with Peter and Hilary, her sponsors and James who looked after the practical details. Basma's daughter Maya and an English friend came with her. There's no better time in the year than Easter Eve for a baptism even if the services is rather long. 

My contribution was to simply to conduct the baptism rite. after the Liturgy of the Word, which included a thoughtful and appropriate sermon by Fr Jarel. Basma was understandably moved by the experience, having waited for so many years to be safe and free to proceed. I was nervous about forgetting the words of baptism in Arabic or pronouncing it incorrectly, but it came out right in the moment. Peter and Hilary her sponsors played their part and were also visibly moved, and several others said the same after the service. For Basma it's the end of one long journey and the beginning of another. Accompanying her to the font this past six months has been an experience I won't forget.

I stood in the sanctuary in silent prayer during the Eucharistic prayer and Communion, something I've done rarely, and this too was a beautiful way to be on the receiving end of the service at the climax of a  Triduum in which I had no other duties to perform.

I was home just after ten. My Fitbit sent me several notifications congratulating me in a patronising and childish way for walking 20,000 steps during the day, possibly the first time it has recorded my doing this. I found everyone had gone to bed already, anticipating the advancement of the clock by an hour. In fact all the house clocks but one had been put forward, so after a glass of wine, I also took advantage of an early night to rejoice in my bed, tired but happy.

Alarming awakening

A rainy day with occasional thunder and even bursts of sunshine. At two thirty this morning the painful nagging bleep of a dying smoke alarm battery disrupted my sleep. I got up and with Clare's help holding the ladder attempted to change the battery, but failed to get the cover off to access the battery. I gave up an hour later and endured the remainder of a disturbed night's rest. 

I woke up at seven, posted today Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp and dozed for another hour before getting up for breakfast. Clare contacted an electrician mate of Owain's, who was helpful explaining how to get the cover off, but I was still unable to locate the slot harbouring the trigger for the cover release. It turned out to be on the side of the device that I couldn't see without taking a dangerous risk as it faced the void above the staircase.

I had to abandon my efforts in order to get to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist, giving myself time to calm down and say Morning Prayer before celebrating. Thankfully Rob, a techie neighbour of ours came and sorted the problem when I was out, in response to an appeal for help from Clare. There were nine of us altogether, including Father Andrew who turned up at the last minute and joined us. I think he was in the back office photocopying unnoticed as I was getting ready for the service.

We had salmon stew for lunch, using the carcass of the filleted fish Clare bought yesterday in the market when I got back from church. Then I went for a walk, and returned at four to meet Paula to finish off the Easter edition of Sway and send it out by Mailchimp. She's got the hang of it now, confident enough to go solo hereafter. Handover complete, job done. A satisfying feeling.

I had an email from churchwarden John in Nerja, with details surrounding my arrival, and a wedding date booked in late May. He and his wife will take me out for a Chinese meal on the evening of my arrival. I can't remember when last I ate in a Chinese restaurant. It's many decades ago.

After supper, Clare and I went to St German's for the Maundy Thursday Liturgy. There were twenty of us on a dark and rainy evening. The traditional rite simplified with the transfer of the Sacrament in silence and then the stripping of the altar was very effective I thought. We got back just after half past nine. 

Then I caught up on the day's events in a rainy Malaga, dipping into extracts on YouTube of the three hour video of the arrival of the Spanish Legion by ship, the march to the casa cofradia la Mena, and bringing out from San Domenico church next door of the huge image of Christ dead on the cross, known as el Cristo del Buen Muerte, for mounting on its trono. 

I've seen the disembarking in the flesh, but not the latter until now. I also listened to an interview with film star Antonio Banderas talking about the cultural, social and spiritual value of Semana Santa activities in our radically changing times, and understood enough to know what he was on about. Then bed early to try and make up for sleep lost last night

IDP renewed

Cold and grey again today with occasional showers. After breakfast the weekly round of housework. One of the rechargeable batteries for the vacuum cleaner died. Last time this happened the manufacturers sent a replacement one for free, under the terms of the guarantee. Clare discovered that its expiry date is in a few weeks time and rang the manufacturers help line. A new one will be sent to us within a few days. On both occasions dropping the battery caused its demise. It's large and has four connected cells within, and due to its size it's vulnerable to impact damage. Due to its shape it's no east to handle with rheumaticky hands.

Having read a news article about International Driving Permits no longer being issued by the Post Office after April 1st, I was prompted to go and get mine while it's still convenient to do so, and went there mid morning. There were few people queuing to be served when I arrived. A customer in front of me was applying for one that would cover Canada, for which his passport was required. Fortunately the same does not apply for applications covering EU countries. 

By the time the two of us had been served, there was a queue of customers out of the door. The permits have to be written in by hand at the moment and a photo pasted into the card folder containing the details of the photocard license. It's fiddly and time consuming. No wonder the Post Office is giving up offering this as an exclusive service. In future, applicants will be dealt with in grocery stores where there's a Pay Point bill paying service.

When I got back, Clare had already cooked a lamb chop for my lunch. I took over and cooked sausages for her and veggies for both of us. We had hairdo appointments with Chris in Llanrumney in the afternoon and I drove us there. While he was dealing with Clare, I took a walk around the lake at nearby Parc Trederlech.

We were back home by five, so I had a quick early supper and left for Mass at St German's half an hour later, using public transport which took fifty minutes door to door in the rush hour. Fr Jarel celebrated with fifteen of us in the congregation. I begged a lift back as far as the city centre with another congregation member, then took a bus into Canton and walked the rest of the way home. I spent the evening until bed time watching a couple of episodes of 'Locked up'.

New new start for St German's

Another cold and sunny day, getting up late, then Saturday pancakes for breakfast. I made another attempt to fathom the Lumix TZ95 camera settings, but with little success, despite watching a YouTube tutorial on how to change settings. Too complex for me. I'm after the simplest configuration as I use most cameras on Auto setting and tweak them if I'm not satisfied with the result. At midday I cooked an early lunch in an effort to go to St German's by public transport for Fr Jarel's licensing service at two.

I caught a bus to the city centre then went to the Beanfreaks shop in Royal Arcade to pick up a supply of vitamin B3 tablets ordered by Clare, to use in an effort to reduce the rate of glaucoma advancing.  Then I went to Cardiff Camera Centre in the Morgan Arcade to buy a new battery for my TZ95. The one that came with the camera (a display model bargain) isn't holding charge for long - fifty shots instead of three hundred. When I passed by the Olympus camera display case, I saw a Pen E-PL8 model on sale and asked how much the camera body alone would cost - I have three Micro Four Thirds lenses already. At £279 I thought it was affordable. The Pen E-PL8 has been on the market seven years and is praised for its image quality and portability. I was surprised to find it was in its original box with accessories. It looks as if it's had very little use. It's the same technical specification as my ten year old Olympus OMD E-M10.1, so there's no learning curve.

I didn't anticipate buying a camera when I set out, it took me longer than I expected to complete the deal. Rather than hanging around for a bus to Adamsdown, I walked to church in just twenty minutes and got there in good time. The church nave was full to capacity, and once the forty strong choir and procession of clergy entered, the chancel and nave crossing were full too. Over three hundred people! Between the clergy in the congregation and those who wore their robes for the occasion, a quarter of those present were clergy, including a contingent of Cardiff Methodists (Fr. Jarel is an ex Methodist), and many visiting from London where he was involved in theological education at St Mellitus College. He's going to be a breath of fresh air for St German's and the Ministry Area.

I had no desire to wear ministerial robes and sit with the clergy, for the service and sat right at the back instead to enjoy the service without being on display. Singing was magnificent, and Bishop Mary spoke well, rising to the occasion with good humour. The reception afterwards in the church hall was equally crowded, and it gave me an opportunity to greet old friends and colleagues. Jarel was busy greeting his visitors, so I didn't have a chance to introduce myself to him, but it can wait until tomorrow as I intend spending most of Holy Week at St German's, hoping and praying that Basma's residence permit will be confirmed in writing this coming week so she can be baptized a week today.

It was half past four by the time I left and caught a bus to the city centre. From there I walked through Bute Park to Blackweir and then home by half past five. At sunset a nearly full moon was rising in an almost clear sky. There were just a few fluffy clouds turned pink by the setting sun. It looked as if the moon was sailing through them at a leisurely pace. Later, when it was dark there were no clouds, but a high level haze which made only a few stars and planets visible from the loft window. At least the city horizon is no longer tinged yellow by sodium street lamps. New LED lighting is installed if possible to avoid upward glare to reduce light pollution. As time goes by, hopefully with electrification of all forms of transport, atmospheric pollution will reduce allowing the sky to be more translucent to light from heavenly bodies. My much moaned about TZ95 gave me some good moon shots, with enhanced auto setting on full zoom.

Apart from writing this, I spent the evening setting up my new camera and charging the battery. Looking forward to taking it out with me tomorrow afternoon. And to end the day, I read a few more pages of my Spanish novel.

Ireland's Day

A fair night's sleep, awakening to a mild, cloudy St Patrick's day with Sunday Worship coming from The National Cathedral of St Patrick in Dublin, with some glorious singing and an engaging sermon about one of Ireland's two Patron Saints, the other being St Brigid of Kildare. Dublin is an unusual city because it has two Anglican Cathedrals. And this in a predominantly catholic country too! St Patrick's doesn't have a diocesan Bishop, but serves the whole of the island of Ireland's Anglican faithful as a focal point since the disestablishment of other C of I in 1880. There's a separate Cathedral of Christ Church which is the see of the Anglican Archbishop of Dublin and Glenaldough. Both buildings are 11-12th century. I recall visiting them on a trip we made to Dublin when I did a holiday locum in Newcastle County Down fifty years ago.

The city centre was quiet when I travelled across the city centre to attend Mass at St German's. There were forty of us in church altogether, an encouragingly diverse congregation nowadays reflecting the locality, reflecting I think post brexit changes in population with new non-european workers staffing the Infirmary nearby, plus students and asylum seekers. It was good hearing Reader Mike Cook preaching again thoughtfully. Fr. Stewart is moving painfully around the alter, and up and down the steps, due to his worn out knee joint in need of  replacement. I hope it happens soon, as he's been waiting for about four years. 

There was a congregational meeting after the service to elect representatives for church warden and Ministry Area Council, which then turned to planning the hospitality for Fr. Jarel's licensing service next Saturday. The meeting went on until three, I heard later. Basma and I went into the church hall and I took her through the responses in the baptism part of the Easter Vigil service. It's difficult to grasp if you've never experienced this liturgy before. We parted company at one, but I had to drive to Tesco's to get some petrol for the car on the way home. I alerted Clare in advance, so she waited patiently for me so we could eat together.

We went out for our different distance walks later in the afternoon, enjoying sunshine as the earlier cloud cleared for a while. After supper, I continued watching 'The Lost' which concluded in a partial resolution of crimes committed, but disappointingly left an ending suggesting there'll be a series two, like or not. What I did like was the portrayal of a Maori community funeral gathering, with poetic speeches made and laments chanted. As the story had an Irish family in it, we were also treated to the Gaelic original of a song called 'The Parting Glass', which I remember my late lamented friend David Barker singing when we made music together in our student days. The rest of the detective story showcased all the latest crime busting technology used by police worldwide these days - well, at least where there's a strong enough internet signal. Today is definitely Ireland's day today winning the Six Nations International Rugby championship again this year. 

Mothering Sunday

A return to days of cloud and rain threatening to get worse as the week goes on. When I drove to Saint German's to celebrate Mass for the last time before Fr Jarel the new priest in charge, is licensed a week next Saturday crowds were gathering in the city centre ignoring the lights and swarming over the road to visit the Castle, before this afternoon's international rugby Wales versus France rugby match. No police officers to be seen anywhere. 

We were forty in church, including two mothers with small children, also Hosain an Iranian asylum enquiring about getting baptized, seemingly unaware, from what I understood, that doing this before being granted residency would do his case no good, now the light of suspicion by tribunal judges is cast on anyone doing this, as several serious criminal offenders were found to have been baptized and then granted residency. I explained that baptism preparation would take many months if not years depending on how much a candidate needed to learn. I discussed this with Basma after speaking to Hosain. She said she knew of other asylum seekers who sought baptism with no intention of genuinely converting to Christ.

By the time I reached home for lunch today it was two o'clock. I was grateful that Clare had cooked and kept a meal for me, especially as she was poorly with a cold and unable to go to church this morning. I've had the same symptoms, but milder, and am recovering so far more quickly. After eating, I went out and walked for and hour and a half in Thompsons Park and Llandaff Fields, calling in at the Co-op for some bananas and honey en route.

We are supper together, then Clare went to bed. I spent the evening preparing next week's edition of Sway and making the slide video for my Passiontide Morning Prayer honouring the memory of Thomas Cranmer, one of the great innovative artists of the Word in creating the English Book of Common Prayer, and burned at the stake, for refusing to comply with King Henry's decision to take the Church of England out of communion with Rome. It's surprising he hasn't been declared a martyr for Christian unity. I also wrote and recorded more talks for Basma. I got quite a lot done in just a few hours.

Stations on Monday

Up at eight, on another cold damp day. Routine housework after breakfast, then preparation of the six month's worth of material I've used in making Sway to prepare for an afternoon session on Sway with Paul, who will be taking over the editorial job after Easter. Thankfully, she's tech' savvy, and introducing her to the basic process was less difficult than I thought it might be. After a two hour session Fr Andrew dropped in to say hello and answer a couple of enquiries, and then left with Paula to spend time getting to know her, as he'll be working with her as Sway editor in future.

I drove through rush hour traffic to reach St German's for Stations of the Cross followed by Mass at half past six. It took half an hour, but that's no worse than the journey in reverse on a Sunday lunchtime. There were eighteen of us for Stations, and nine stayed for Mass. Prof Norman Doe and his wife attended and gave much needed musical support to the singing of Stabat Mater verses in between Stations. Norman had a trip to Istanbul before Christmas to a gathering of Orthodox hierarchs convened by Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholemew to celebrate the publication of an English edition of his research work on Orthodox Canon Law. As international Canon Law colleagues Norman had helped with preparing this publication, and he was treated to a private audience in addition to attending the public one. A unique experience!

I got home a lot quicker than it took me to drive to church, had a late supper, and then watched a crimmie called 'Above Suspicion' which I found on ITVX. Clare wanted to watch 'Mr Bates versus the Post Office' but discovered that our TalkTalk digibox wasn't upgrading the old ITV hub to ITVX, so she had to watch it on her tablet instead. There we were, the two of us, side by side with headphones on, watching different things on our mobile digital devices, with the telly in the corner switched off. The shape of things to come.

Basma emailed saying that her tribunal hearing had gone well. The judge had spoken to her reassuringly. She can expect a formal decision in a fortnight and has the right to submit a new appeal immediately after a refusal of residency. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. I sent her another talk, the fifteenth in the series I have done, to prepare her for baptism, and started writing a couple more. 

I think today is the first time since I was last poorly when I completed half of my daily walking distance. Too much else to do, not to mention the awful weather for much of the day.

Contemplative Liturgy - first steps

A colder day, but a sunny one. After breakfast I drove to St German's to celebrate the Eucharist. During the week the church central heating was repaired and filling the building with warm. As its half term week the crew young servers were absent. So too was Brian the organist who's gone down with a bug, and no last minute stand-in organist. We agreed a few modifications to the choreography, and I led the singing of all the hymns and best known Mass setting used. The congregation of two dozen rose to the occasion, singing everything with confidence. St German's church acoustics are wonderful for singing unaccompanied. This encourages a slower reflective kind of worship, the kind you'd experience in a Cistercian monastery. It was truly uplifting, and I think everyone enjoyed the experience.

Basma wasn't at church this morning. She emailed me later to say that she'd been up for much of the night with her daughter, getting her ready for an early coach to Heathrow and a flight to Amman in Jordan to see her grandparents. Now that Maya has her residence permit she can safely travel back to the country from which she fled with her mother six years ago. I hope it won't be too long before Basma gets her residence permit and can make the same journey herself.

I got home for lunch just after one. Afterwards, I recorded and edited the audio for next Thursday's Morning Prayer, then went for a walk. After supper, Sunday evening prime time telly Antiques Roadshow, then Call the Midwife. As I want to attend Alf's funeral at St John's tomorrow morning, I thought I'd get a head start on my Monday morning chore of preparing next Sunday's liturgical texts and making a start on the next edition of Sway. I completed all I needed to do, ready to send, in an hour. That's quite a few extra things done that I didn't expect to do quite so easily. Hopefully it will ease the pressure in the coming week, with Ash Wednesday and next Sunday's sermons to prepare.

Freezing in church

It took me ages to get to sleep last night, Clare too apparently. Nevertheless, ending up sleeping well and woke up feeling unusually refreshed. It was 3C, and stayed around that temperature all day, under a sunny blue sky with clouds building up later. I drove to St German's to celebrate Mass. The church heating is still not working, it felt as cold indoors as outside. With a shortened liturgy we finished ten minutes earlier than usual. I kept my thick indoor jacket on under my vestments and kept warm, apart from my hands, which tend to get cramp when it's really cold.  The coldness made it difficult to focus on reading my sermon, and I wasn't happy about my delivery of it, but we all survived.  Basma wasn't there, as she injured her foot a couple of weeks ago and still can't walk on it without pain, so after a much needed cup of coffee and a chat, I got home for lunch just after one.

I relaxed in the chair, dozed a while, chatted to Owain on the phone, then went out at four for a walk under lovely sunset with white clouds tinged with pink and orange. When I get back, Clare had already left for Abergavenny, where the Plygain group she sings with was taking part in another service. With the house to myself, after supper, I recorded Morning Prayer and Reflection for St Paul's day without disturbance, then made the video slideshow and uploaded it YouTube. Clare returned about nine, and I found out that the concert had been in Holy Trinity Anglican Church Abergavenny, which I recall preaching in back in the 1980s when I worked for USPG. It's now part of a ministry area with two town churches and five in rural villages whose population has expanded, like suburbs with fields in between over the years. The area is served by a rail link so it's an attractive place to commute from. All served by two full time clergy. A sign of the times, sad to say.

Britain and the US have mounted a couple attacks on Houthi rebel forces in Yemen, in response to months of attacks on Red Sea shipping which have scaled up from occasional to frequent, in which they use Iranian supplied ballistic missiles and drones, now in solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza where the death toll is now 24,000. This is an unwanted measure of escalation in the Middle East, a dangerous moment which could so easily slip beyond control.

After finishing work I watched another episode of 'Bones' and then wound down for the night. 

World Championship Venue

A cloudy day to start with, but the sky cleared during the day and the temperature was a steady 3C, but it didn't feel as cold. Clare made our Saturday pancakes for breakfast. Afterwards I finished tomorrow's sermon. The heating at St German's is still broken, so I was advised to make the liturgy shorter reduce the risk of hypothermia in church. A five minute sermon takes just as long to write, if not longer. There's a long second lesson and psalm which can be omitted. That should reduce duration by ten minutes or more.

Then we went for a pre-lunch walk in the park, As Clare had already made a fish stew from leftover flesh and bones of our most recent filleted salmon purchase, so it only needed heating while the table was laid. Comforting on a chilly day.

Last night before going to sleep I started writing a reflection on the life and thought of St Paul for Morning Prayer on his feast day, two weeks hence. Advance preparation for recovery time after next Friday's gall bladder removal operation. I continued writing after lunch, then went for another walk down the Taff on the Bute Park side. On the return leg I called into the Sport Wales National Centre adjacent to Sophia Gardens, to use the toilet. I was delighted to discover the Centre is hosting the Wheelchair Fencing World Championship this weekend. That was a surprise!

Before supper I recorded and edited the reflection I'd written. The rest of the recording will wait until I have the house to myself when it's quiet. Afterwards, with nothing better to do, I watched a couple of episodes of 'Bones'. I learned from IMDB that there are 245 episodes to date of the twelve years the series ran. NCIS is still running and has clocked up 459 episodes so far. I don't think any of the 21 series has made it to catch up on free UK TV channels yet. 

The temperature went down to zero after dark. Extra layers definitely needed for church tomorrow. Having printed my sermon, I went to bed early. I'm not used to rising early, but it would be good to get into practice before next Friday, when I need to be out for the house by a quarter to seven to get to UHW for the operation. It's been a long time coming, six years in fact. I'm not nervous about it, and resigned to the fact that it may yet be cancelled due to the current junior hospital doctor's strike. I don;t know if this will affect specialised hi-tech' surgery.

Year end busyness

Cloudy, windy, with cloudbursts again today. It's daunting, but I slept until after eight. I was just about to have breakfast when a phone diary notification reminded me that I'm due to take the nine o'clock Eucharist at St John's. I put that there a couple of months ago when the rota was being worked out as Fr Dyfrig had not yet been able to find someone to cover this, just in case. 

I wasn't sure whether he'd found someone or not, as I hadn't received confirmation that he needed to take me at my word. I checked with Andrew who was already in church trying to fix a glitch in the central heating and he said I was expected, so I dressed quickly and drove to St John's, as it was pouring with rain. There were seventeen of us for the Eucharist. We had a drink together afterwards, and there was toast for anyone who fancied a bit to eat afterwards.

Then I drove to St German's in good time for the eleven o'clock Sung Mass, where there were three dozen of us, and where the central heating also was not working! There were no refreshments afterwards, so I was home for lunch before one, which is unusual for me these days. There wasn't time for a snooze as I was to be picked up at half past three for a Carol service at St Peter's. There were a dozen of us for this and everyone sang heartily. It was less intense, more relaxed than the usual pre-Christmas carol services. We shared mince pies and wine and laughter together in the church hall afterwards. 

I wasn't nearly as drained as I expected to be after a three service Sunday. It's a long time since I've done that. After supper I spent the evening working on the document I've been writing for the Ministry Area Council to support them in calling into question financial demands by the diocese. A day of nasty weather stopped me from going out straight after lunch, so I went out just after ten instead and walked up and down Llandaff Fields, buffeted by gusts of wind, but thankfully no rail. The clouds were clearing and I saw Orion clearly, and clouds no longer obscuring the waning moon. I saw two people out there in three quarters of an hour, although car horns announced revelry in progress some distance away.

It's been a difficult year in many ways with a government unfit for purpose, striving perpetuate the illusion that its dogma has done the country significant long term good. A recent poll showed that the vast majority of Brits have come to the conclusion that brexit has not done the good it promised the country. No poll yet with people admitting they were lied to and accepted that a con-trick was pulled on them. Brits are a creative people with great strengths and great ability to live and work together with their differences, but perhaps still over-tolerant of the huge disparity between rich and powerful, and the deprived poor. It's time for the radical change that will do justice to all citizens, and give true value to the many qualities King Charles affirms in his addresses to the nation.

Support for Ukraine nationally at many levels this past couple of years has shown due regard for the very seriousness of the threat Putin's regime poses to the whole of Europe and the world. It's no nearly so clear when in comes to the situation in Palestine. Getting rid of Hamas governance is a reasonable aim, but the means are so destructive, the death of twenty thousand civilians can not be justified as collateral damage, or failure to follow instructions from invading aggressors. Netanyahu's people and Putin's rely on the same deceptive rhetoric to murder the innocent. 

Festive fireworks have started. The countdown to more uncertainty injustice and misery is upon us. Will 2024 turn out to be any different? God help us all.

Abba yn y Gymraeg

Another cold grey day with no rain. When I was getting up Sunday Worship was being broadcast from the Church of God of Prophecy in Ackocks Greet Birmingham, with Homelessness as its theme. Inner city Birmingham was where I first came across Black Pentecostal churches, when I was a University Chaplain fifty years ago and then again in St Paul's Bristol a few years later. Hearing singing and distinctive down to earth approach to taking about Christian ministry brought back happy memories.

I drove to St German's to celebrate the Eucharist with three dozen others. I was introduced to a family whose two teenage sons are going to be baptized next Sunday. This offers a marvellous opportunity for Basma to witness a baptismal service for herself. She is keen to be baptised but has yet to reach the stage where it's necessary to explain to her all the detail of the ceremony. She's at an early stage of preparation. 

Hilary had acquired a Good News bible for her in English to match the Arabic one we presented to her two weeks ago. She brought it to the altar at the offertory, and stood with Basma as I gave it to her  when they came up to the Communion rail. She was full of questions after the service about what happens during a service. She'll have even more questions when I see her again at church in two weeks time. I was late home for lunch again. Clare is so patient and long suffering with me.

After eating I walked in the park for an hour and a half, and bumped into Fr Andrew on his way to an open air party in Plasturton Gardens with friends. As I was about to turn for home, I accompanied him, and was glad to have done so. There was quite a crowd in the small park, decorated with lights and with tents service refreshments. A choir of children from a Welsh language primary school was singing, all dressed brightly and wearing Santa style hats. They weren't singing carols at the moment I passed, but familiar songs by Abba in Welsh translation. Amazing!

Kate came and collected Jayne and myself from the Romilly Road bus stop to drive us to St Peter's for Evensong and Benediction. I was back home again before seven for supper. We watched this week's 'Antiques Roadshow' and then a portion of Welsh black comedy series 'Pren ar y Bryn' half in Welsh and half in English, very sweary and a bit coarse, which does little to sustain interest in a bizarre plot line. In the end I gave up and continued with emailing Christmas greetings to people in local churches I've been serving this past year. And there was my bag to pack for my visit to London tomorrow. And then bed.

Milestone

A cold, damp and cloudy start to Advent. I woke up thinking about devising a simple ceremony for giving Basma the New Testament in Arabic which arrived yesterday, just in time. I did this after breakfast, and I left a little later than I usually do, but fortunately arrived at St German's at the same time as Basma with then minutes to spare, in which to brief her and get ready to celebrate Mass.

She stood arm in arm with Hilary presenting her just after the blessing of the first Advent Candle and said her few lines clearly and confidently. I had wrapped the book in a beautiful patterned silk handkerchief that has been in a bedroom drawer unused over half a lifetime. It's common for Arab Muslims to keep their copy of the Qu'ran wrapped up and in a special place at home. I knew she would realise the significance of this, and that such special treatment applied equally to biblical texts. She was in tears after the ceremony, and I too was much moved. The beginning of the new Christian Year will be for Basma a milestone in a journey that has lasted twenty five years so far.

The liturgy was a little longer than usual, with the additional elements, but also because it took me longer than usual to pray my way through it, and preach. It's one of my favourite moments in the Christian Year.

I gave Basma a bible commentary as well, based on the New English Bible text, and she was given an English New English Bible to go with it. The Arabic text is a translation of the Good News Bible, and one is being ordered so she has exactly what she needs to study in, albeit confusingly in two versions of text. The first question that came up was about the Chapter and Verse numbers in the text. Thankfully they are fairly consistent, across different versions, even the Arabic, but it needed explanation. It was gone half past one by the time I got home for dinner. Clare is getting used to me arriving this late for lunch while I'm at St German's, ever patient with me, fortunately.

After lunch I slept in the chair for more than an hour, then walked in the park for an hour, in the drizzle as it got dark, returned for tea, then we both went out to the St Catherine's Advent Service of Light, attended by four dozen people, a dozen of them in the choir. There were mince pies and mulled wine in the church hall afterwards and we stayed, though not for long. We went home and listened to the Archers on catch-up. Then I watched the first episode of a twelve part Italian crimmie called 'Off Grid', about a banker who is forced to go into hiding with his family after the bank he heads collapses. He is framed for the murder of his colleague and both receive death threats. I have the early impression that this is a matter of infiltration by organised crime into working of the bank. How and why is going to take a lot of episodes to describe!

Unexpected meeting in church

A lovely sunny morning to wake up to, and a late start for St German's to celebrate Mass. The church was flooded with sunlight throughout though it was warmer outside than indoors. The mood was sombre with the situation in Gaza at the forefront of people's minds. Perhaps because I've been away for a few weeks, I was slower with longer silences in celebrating and preached a little longer than I usually do so we finished nearly ten minutes later than planned.

As there was a road closure in Westgate street in the town centre, I took the precaution of returning home to Canton by the Grangetown route, just in case there were traffic queues. This takes longer, but there was less traffic and no slow queues. It's difficult to get home for lunch until one fifteen either way.

After lunch, I slept for an hour, then went out for a walk around the park. At five, I caught the 61 bus to Fairwatwer, to celebrate Evensong and Benediction at St Peter's. I left early, anticipating there might be problems with the bus timetable due to a bus stop relocation in the town centre, thanks to roadworks in Westgate Street. A bus arrived minutes after I reached the stop - the previous bus, late! Jane got on the same bus, also on her way to St Peter's, and we arrived with more than half an hour to spare. It was good to meet up with Richard again and share a few moans about the state of the church.

The organ was being played when we arrived and unlocked. It was a contemporary of mine from St Mike's days, Richard Fenwick, the retired bishop of St Helena, also a lifelong organist. I think he lives nearby and has his own key. Like me, he enjoys locum ministry, and is currently helping out in the upper Rhymney Valley, not far from my childhood home. He was in church practicing for a concert, but didn't stop for the service. There were just three of us again, but I think we each enjoyed the serenity of quiet eventide prayer together. Kate gave Jane and I a lift back to Pontcanna, and I was home just in time for the Archers.

After supper, we watched 'Antiques Roadshop', then I watched another episode of 'The Fall' before turning in for the night.