Advent arrives

The only thing of note about my Saturday was that I finally screwed up my courage to go into town and buy a new pair of winter shoes. I live in sandals eight months of the year, but don't much like the misery of a wet winter. With so much rain and wind this last week, I thought I'd better stop complaining and make the effort. On Clare's recommendation, I visited the the Ecco shop, and within minutes found just what would serve me well. A robust supportive waterproof shoe with a sturdy sole, which, given my odd sized feet, offered a perfect and extremely comfortable fit from the moment I put them on. Hardly a question of getting used to then or 'breaking them in'. They 'just worked'. I can't remember if I ever had this experience with a pair of shoes before. Perhaps I always purchased too cheap. Even so, I got a 'Black Friday' weekend bargain, and look forward to enjoying my winter wear - what an odd idea!

I celebrated the Solemn Mass at St German's again on Sunday, with a turnout of three dozen for Advent Sunday, against a background of driving wind and rain. The mood was cheerfully up-beat. There is, in spite of the solemn and serious nature of the pre-Christmas season, an element of renewed pleasure in the start of a new Christian year. It's true for me too. The first ever retreat I made as an eighteen year old student was over the Advent weekend, and it brought home the reality of the mystery of faith to me in a way that steered me into the path I still follow. Poetry, awe and wonder, longing and hopefulness, all part of a creative chemistry feeding the notion that Christmas contains more than meets the eye. I think I need Advent just as much as I need Lent, to keep me focussed on Christ.

Remembrance Sunday

The rainy season continues, and grey days merge into one another. Friday and Saturday slipped by in an unremarkable way, apart from another Arne Dahl, about a plot by far right militants to assassinate a key figure in a peace process, to provoke an islamophobic conflict in Europe. Each story in the series has laid bare the fears that pervade Sweden's peaceful liberal democratic society. How similar to our own.

This morning I went first to St Saviour's and then St German's to celebrate the Eucharist for them. Although Remembrance Sunday was observed in both places, readings were for the Sunday of the year, depending on whether you follow the Revised Common, or Roman Catholic lectionary version. 

Normally this is not a problem, but there are a few Sundays of the year when Anglicans have their own set of readings, and November is one of those times. It was only when I got to St Saviour's that I realised the Roman version of the lectionary was in use, with two out of three readings entirely different, so I had to listen hard and then ad lib around the Remembrance theme using the different texts. I was pleased with the outcome, didn't go on too long, as I can do when I've not prepared properly, and got the impression that it went down OK. 

The act of remembrance around the war memorial in the church garden was performed by lay people, as I had to go to St German's and lead the act of remembrance there before starting the Mass. I also had to curtail my prepared sermon there, to make sure the service didn't overrun, but that wasn't hard. Although I always discipline myself to write a set text to preach from, I habitually change it as I go along, and these days without being over-long. The challenge of how to get the best out of a 10-15 minute opportunity to work with scripture before an audience is still fresh every time, and thankfully remains a real pleasure. 

In the evening Clare went to the Benefice annual service of remembrance for the faithful departed, I stayed home and said Evening Prayer alone. I needed to do that to re-balance, after an out-going morning, there are times when only silence will do.

School Harvest Mass

An early start this morning to the the car to N.G. Motors to check out a noisy water pump and timing belt. Then a ten minute walk from Splott to Adamsdown to celebrate Tredegarville School's Harvest festival Mass, with over 200 children, staff, and a handful of parents. The children sang beautifully, but the public address system let us down so sadly the children who read were inaudible. The system has not been right since the BBC Songs of Praise recording weekend unfortunately, and the guy who takes care of it wasn't present. I was amazed at how well behaved a church full of children could be under the circumstances..They seem to appreciate the difference of being in a quiet solemn place, with little external noise, and sunshine streaming in to tight up the building. There's still room for a little awe in everyone's life.

I went then into the CBS office, to do some PC maintenance tasks, and whiled away the time until I got a message to say the car was ready. Not only a new pump and timing belt, but two new front tyres as well. The exhaust is still knocking against the car chassis, the mechanics said it was not properly aligned, so it'll have to go back to Kwikfit tomorrow for this adjustment to be made. This apart the 25 year old car now runs quiet and smooth, and handles far better. I think we'll be keeping it a bit longer.

Ann told us that Eddie had been transferred at high speed from Ipswich to Papworth hospital during the night, and was undergoing lengthy open heart surgery in an effort to repair the artery about to burst. Altogether, he was in the operating theatre for twelve hours, before coming to rest in the Critical Care Unit. Three massive hurdles overcome so far, and he's 'critical but stable' as they'd say. Time for us to watch and pray, nothing more.

 

Short and long term planning.

I celebrated the Eucharist again yesterday morning with a class from Tredegarville School attending, and told them all about the church's patron St German of Auxerre, as planned. After the service, I went to the school to consult with head teacher Emma Laing about the all-school Harvest Eucharist in church next Wednesday, then went home to devise some material for insertion in the service sheet for the children. There was also another sermon to prepare for Sunday, to preach at St Luke's, here in my home parish.

This morning the two funerals took place, one after the other. The first one was in Pidgeons Funeral Chapel, and concluded at Thornhill Crematorium. The second followed after a twenty minute break, with a service only at the crematorium. It gave me a few moments to take a look at the re-furbished precinct outside the chapels, where people gather to examine floral tributes after the ceremony.  I'd not had time to notice on visits earlier in the year.  It was re-paved last year apparently, with the addition of raised marble 'benches' on which flowers could be laid for viewing without anyone having to bend over. It's a nice touch, and apparently was expensive to do. It's a durable permanent feature, good for another fifty years at least.

I was back in time for lunch, and then went into the CBS office for the afternoon. Julie discovered more glitches in the database I thought I'd got right last week, so I had to revisit the import process yet again to eliminate the problem and them rebuild. Will I ever get it as perfect as it needs to be, to ensure future durability I wonder. Now I have a good idea and some practice at using Libre Office Base, I must make an effort to migrate personal databases across from MS Works - a simpler task than what I've been working on lately, but maybe worth doing. There's always the possibility of losing the MS Works installation disk, and not having an application that can open the .wdb files. I try to think ahead long term about making access to my legacy of data easy for the children after I'm dead. It could save them a lot of extra frustration and grief.

The cure for excess mental exercise

It's Michaelmass today. No opportunity to get to Mass, so the liturgical readings of the day had to suffice as food for the soul. The alternative Old Testament passage is from the story of Tobias and the Angel (in the deutero-canonical Book of Tobit). It's not about Michael, like the mainstream passage from Daniel, but about the Archangel Raphael, who ministers healing. It's quite a beautiful poetic passage, which I can't really say I've noticed before, perhaps because this was not a book I ever studied during training.

Another bereavement visit this morning, followed by several hours of work on preparing services and eulogy/obituaries on behalf of the families, as in neither case did anyone feel able to take on the task. Then I had to prepare for the Wednesday morning 'school Eucharist' at St German's, honouring the patron saint himself whose body arrived back in his native Auxerre on 1st October, after his death in Ravenna, sixteen centuries ago. A nine hour road journey today took sixty one days that long ago. 

Then I had to start work on a Harvest festival sermon for next Sunday afternoon when I preach at the lovely Patricio church, at the head of the Grwyny Valley in Monmouthshire's borderland. So, there was no time to spare to complete the painting job, and barely enough time to start preparing supper before I went to Chi Gung class. I felt pretty tired and stressed out, but the hour's workout was just what I needed to get me down out of my head and on to my feet.

     

Sunday disruptions

An Eucharist to celebrate at St John's Canton this morning at eight, followed by a drive across town to St German's for an earlier than usual Sung Mass at nine thirty. Over the weekend the church is turned into a video recording studio for BBC's Songs of Praise. A series of artistes sing to camera against the aesthetic backdrop of one of Bodley's finest churches. 

The upheaval is disconcerting, and the re-scheduling of the service necessary to meet the programming demands. I was impressed at a full turnout of the thirty strong congregation, more accustomed to showing up at eleven - including two in wheelchairs. Everyone seemed philosophical about the disruption, seeing it as part of the effort needed to make their church known to the wider world.

The sacristy was full of recording equipment, furniture was displaced in the nave, and wiring trailed all through the sanctuary and high altar. It's the first time I recall ever having to step carefully over heavy cables while censing the altar during Mass. 

I heard that there had been problems overnight for the grossly underpaid lone security guard, from a gang of idle lads intent on making mischief, maybe with an eye to stealing the Beeb's mobile power generator parked outside. The guard was reluctant to call the Police in case this escalated into a real breach of the peace. It's a scandal that two weren't employed, as may be considered normal safe practice. No doubt if there were Police out and about, they'd be shepherding crowds of drunken revellers in the city centre a mile away. Locals gossip about a drug dealing ice cream van out in the evenings in this parish. Do the Police know or care?

After lunch, Clare and I drove up to Kenilworth, for another birthday supper with Kath, Anto and Rhiannon. She seems to have grown up a lot in the summer, what with leaving primary and starting secondary school last week. Now she's spending a couple of hours each school night conscientiously doing homework, and enjoying learning at a new level. I've given her my little travel laptop, all set up with Windows 10 and her own One Drive ready to use. Two weeks ago Owain took my Chromebook. I don't have that much need for travel kit at the moment, and am surprised to find how much I'm able to do with my Blackberry when I'm away from a desk. 

 

A peep over the fence

I went over to St German's again on foot this morning to celebrate the midweek Eucharist with a dozen communicants and the year four class of children from Tredegarville school. The children are amazingly quiet and well behaved, a tribute to the good nurturing the receive and high expectations of them on the part of their teachers. We kept a belated St Matthew's day, and I led them in a few short songs, although I'm not exactly sure if they do that on a regular basis any longer. Well, all I can do  is be myself and engage with them in the best possible way I know. On the way there a went into school at the end of morning assembly and met head teacher Emma for the first time. I'll need to have a planning meeting with her to arrange the Harvst Festival all-school service pretty soon.

On my walk back to the town centre I passed the former St James' church, now converted, or being converted into apartments. There's a tall grey hoarding right around the grounds. Whether it's just a security measure or an enclosure for a garden is difficult to say. It's certainly a good way of reducing the amount of rubbish that can be dumped there and protects the stained glass windows from further damage, but it doesn't look good, so I'm wondering if there's planning permission for this. Also there is nothing by way of a notice board or advertising hoarding to describe what's happening, if anything within the old church building. What was noticeable was the appearance of the two beautiful angels with censer bas reliefs surmounting the north porch entrance. Their stonework has been scrubbed clean and the doors renovated. I'd love to know what work is going on there now. I must ask when I am next in school.

After lunch, I spent the afternoon writing a circular email reading for distribution to RadioNet users, with news about the BCRP, also picking up the threads of the database migration job before going into the office. It took so long, I ended up not going in at all. It will be a relief to put this into action and get on with something else. I have more copy writing to do, and neglected website re-building to do or get done. There are things which I have 'left undone which I ought to have done' and now they are beginning to crowd in on me, with obligations to learn more new things I've been avoiding. I feel quite impatient with myself.

Homecoming

A nice sunny day for the journey back to Cardiff yesterday, with a stop in Rhyadyr for lunch at the Old Swan restaurant, where the men ate excellent sausage and mash and the women ate vegetarian lasagne. Mark and Saralee re-packed their belongings chez nous, and then we dropped them off at the Angel Hotel for their overnight stay and early departure, just after the roads had been re-opened to traffic and Westgate Street pubs overflowing with World Cup Rugby fans celebrating or drowning their sorrows after the game.

We had a quiet evening catching up after the week away. I watched the first episode of 'Beck', another Scandinavian crime drama series replete with interesting characters including the detective whose cases are portrayed. He's not as melancholic as dear old Wallander.

This morning I celebrated Mass first at St Saviour's Splott, and then at St German's. There was a child chorister at St Saviour's, and when we sang 'Lord of the Dance' at the end of the service, she danced on the spot all the way through. I wished others could have felt free to do the same. In coming weeks I am scheduled to do the St German's Wednesday morning Eucharist with a class of children from Tredegarville church school attending. One is a whole school Harvest Festival celebration. That'll be fun. It's time I re-visited the school and made the acquaintance of the new head teacher. I haven't been back since I left, five years ago. It'll be interesting to see how things have changed since then.

 

Recollection in Bristol

Another visit to St German's this morning to sing the Solemn Mass. Nice to have a late relaxed start to my Sunday. I was asked if I'd be willing to cover more regular duties during Fr Dean's absence, and said yes for three of the four Sundays of the coming month. October Sundays are already fully booked, though nothing beyond that so far.

We drove over to Bristol to see Amanda and James after lunch, and Owain came and joined us, which was delighful. He told us all about his visit to Bristolian artist Banksy's Dismaland Bemusement Park in Weston super Mare, and showed us photos he'd taken on his 'phone. He said how much he'd laughed, how much it made him think, with its hard-hitting satirical social critique of modern consumer society, ruthlessly mocking the fantasy escapist ethos of Disneyworld, and reminding the audience of the many horrors of injustice and violence which mar the contemporary world. 

We also reminisced about life in St Agnes Vicarage when Amanda came to live with us, Owain was a toddler, thirty five years ago and there were aspects of life in the St Paul's area that had some of the bemusing characteristics of Banksy's Dismaland. We drove him back to his place in Redfield on our way home, passing through the edge of St Paul's, down Ashley Hill. Superficially, it all looks less run down now than it did in those days, but looks can deceive, Owain suggested. 

It's thirty three years since we left the St Paul's area, for me to do the career break R.E. teacher training course, which made an adult educator of me, rather than a schoolmaster. Two years later, I bought my first home computer, and a decade before the internet became public property, slowly found my way into understanding the coming digital era and what it meant for society as well as science. 

Sixteen years earlier, as an undergraduate researching data to back my final year Chemistry project in Bristol University, I awakened to the important potential of the development of Information Science, then in its infancy, and the use of computers as its tools. The data processing mainframe computers of those days filled a large room, yet my Amstrad CPC 464 in 1984 was just as powerful, if not more so. How much further have computers and information technology come in the thirty years since then, and the world is such a different place due to what can now be achieved for better or worse through data processing of every kind.

A special family celebration

Yesterday afternoon, Owain arrived from Bristol, and came with us to check in at Llantrisant's Premier Inn for an overnight. Kath, Anto, Rhiannon, Rachel and Jasmine all arrived from Kenilworth shortly after us. Eddy and Ann were already installed, having arrived last night from Greece to Gatwick Airport, and driving across counry to avoid motorway congestion, to stay the night and recover from travel, in order to join us.

Clare and I both turn seventy this year, so we chose a date half way between our birthdays, close to our 49th wedding anniversary, for this family gathering. Sadly neither of my two sisters could travel to join us. Age takes its toll. We booked an evening meal at the Llanerch Vineyard restaurant ages ago, keen to go somewhere special and invite everyone to join us. At last it was happening.

The meal was superb, and everyone was pleased with what they chose to eat, even the children. When we arrived there was a large decorated plastic box with a ballon tied to it on the dining table. This had been brought in earlier in the day by the Kenilworth crowd, a hamper of lovely goodies, to which all the children and grandchildren contributed - favourite things - olives, chorizo, chocolate, wine, hand made soap, handmade marzipan sweets, a framed photo of Rhiannon and Jasmine, poems and cards created by the two of them. Such a lovely surprise. After the main course, an excellent chocolate birthday cake, baked by the grand-daughters. Such joy!

After the supper, the general manager of the hotel and restaurant drove us back to the hotel on his way home. He said he was most annoyed that guests staying just three miles away should have to pay £25 for a taxi to return at 10.00pm, having paid only £15 for the outward journey. This he attributed to the fact that even a local taxi would have to come out to the Vineyard to pick us up, because every taxi in a wide area around Cardiff would be queuing in search of lucrative fares the city centre, not stationed locally as at other times. Cardiff's celebrated night time economy may do the city some good, but isn't it also draining economic life and activity from the surrounding regions?

Still, we finished the evening with a bottle of Prosecco, drunk from toothbrush glasses in our room, before turning in, so happy to be re-united again. The best birthday present of all.

This morning, I was up and breakfasting ahead of everyone else, as I had an assignment to celebrate Mass at St German's at eleven, and needed to leave by, to go home and change. Everyone was home, enjoying the sunshine and drinking a late coffee in Clare's lovely garden when I got back. Lunch was spread out over much of the afternoon, as everyone had eaten a hearty breakfast before checking out of the hotel. Eddy and Ann left first for their long journey to Felixstowe. The rest of us went to the play park on Llandaff Fields for a while, before Kath Anto and Rhiannon left for Kenilworth. We have the pleasure of nearly two weeks with Rachel, but only until Tuesday with Jasmine, who returns early to Arizona with her dad on Thursday.

In the evening we sat and watched the video of Despicable Me II, and laughed a lot. Jasmine seemed to know lots of the lines, so I guess she's seen it several more times than us. Great fun.

 

Auto-electrical serendipidy

Sunday duties this morning took me St Saviour's Splott for a nine thirty start. It's eighteen months since I last took a service here. A nave altar is now in regular use there, bringing the Eucharist close to the congregation. As the service started, the radio mike detached from my belt, fell to the floor and spilled its batteries at the very point where I was meant to be censing the altar. I had to abandon it and talk louder, probably excluding users of the hearing loop in the process, as I couldn't get the batteries to stay in their compartment. I have never loved radio mikes. Unnatural noisy horrid things. At least the church acoustics made good use of natural voice projection.

From St Saviour's, I went to St Germans to celebrate Mass there. It's a much bigger church in which a radio mike is a necessary evil when you're not at the lectern or in the pulpit. Fortunately it worked well, although it was over-loud for my taste, making vocal restraint necessary, rather than facilitating natural projection. Even so, it was good to be back in familiar churches, among friends.

I met Clare in the Riverside Market after Mass. As we were leaving, I realised that the car indicators weren't working and drove straight to Kiwk-Fit in Canton, to see what could be done about it. Getting the car off the road in safe place was my priority in an area dominated by double yellow lines. I was able to park in the work-shop car park. I suspected that it might simply be a blown circuit fuse, as this happened a year ago. 

At the time I learned that our 21 year old Golf has a non 'standard' fuse box, and it took a day to source the appropriate fuse. The mechanic who dealt with me acquired a couple of fuses then, and I remembered that the spare one has been in tucked in my wallet ever since. I'd hoped that the mechanic in charge would be able to find out easier than I where the blown fuse was located, but it was less difficult to locate and replace than I'd initially imagined. In a few minutes we were on our way rejoicing, but not before raising a laugh with the duty mechanic to whom I told the story. Without doing a thing, Kwik-Fit was responsible for fixing my car a second time around.

After lunch, relieved that fixing the car was less of a problem than I'd anticipated, I drove over to Bristol to see Amanda and James, a belated Easter visit.

A Sunday in St German with St Saviour's

I returned to Splott and Adamsdown today to cover two Masses and Benediction for Fr Dean Atkins, at St Saviour's and St German's. It's the first time I've been back on a Sunday in nine months, and it was an enjoyable experience. I preached on kingship and Christ, according to the theme of the day, but was quite displeased with what I'd prepared when I preached it first at St Saviour's. In fact, I ad libbed a bit around the text, which didn't seem to read right, and that made it long than it needed to be. However, at St German's, the text seemed to read quite differently and using it as it stood was easy. What a difference context and audience can make.

After lunch I went into town to get some Christmas cards and replacements for my Italian language books - I must have disposed of them during the retirement move. Then I went over to the office, and persuaded the duty security guard to give me access so that I could recover a couple of working files abandoned in my Thursday annoyance. As a result, I was able to complete outstanding jobs at home without distraction in the evening after officiating at Solemn Vespers and Benediction at St German's. Evensong is shortened and made part of the Benediction devotions now. 

I found it a decent enough effort, with certainly no shortage of incense. However, I'm sad a chanted Magnificat has been supplanted by Timothy Dudley Smith's ubiquitous 'Tell out my soul'. I gather some folk regret losing the Nunc Dimittis. I'm not unsympathetic to this moan. The change only reflects what daily prayer revision options in England and Wales have added, imitating Roman divine office revision in enriching the scriptural content of worship.

However, the conflation of Vespers and Compline (as with Vigils and Lauds) by the  Book of Common Prayer authors, was one of the reformation's enduring creative innovations. It reflected the desire to simplify worship and make it more accessible. Our generation seems to have abandoned this impulse and is now making a gourmet diet of worship choices available for every occasion, as if it dare not be left to the worshippers' imagination to adapt and interpret internally material from a common core prayer text. Good intentions could make us spiritually lazy consumers of religious words if we're not careful.

Late evening Kath arrived to stop overnight before working as an extra attending a dance class, on the Welsh languages soap opera 'Pobl y Cwm', which is filmed down Porth Teigr, as Cardiff Bay is named on bus destination indicators these days. Due to the extreme wet weather and accidents on the M42 she had more than an hour's delay. It was the last thing she needed after spending a day doing a dance workshop. She is admirably hard working and dedicated to her art. I'm proud of her.