End of life for the United Services Mess

It took me a while to figure out how to attach the cardio monitor securely to my pyjama trousers last night. Once I got used to it and settled down to sleep, the night was no more broken than usual by getting up to empty my bladder. I have to be sure to drink plenty of water when I get up or I feel terrible. It's not easy if I get distracted. Clare had a saxophone lesson after breakfast which drove me back upstairs to recover in bed. I'm supposed to make a note of symptoms like dizziness or palpitation and their timing. My heart rate rises when I get up at night, but it doesn't stay high for long, and I've not had anything nearly as scary as the palpitations which returned me to A&E a second time after the stroke. I'm exercising moderately avoiding stressful situations as far as possible and hopefully this keeps my blood pressure from going high for long periods.

I went for a walk around the streets before lunch. A couple of teenagers in school uniform accosted me with questions for a social survey they're doing about Pontcanna for a school project. They were sounding opinions about quality of life and available amenities in the area. I'm not sure if their teacher designed the survey or if they did. An interesting project. I wonder what they will learn from it?

I slept for an hour after lunch. I felt as if I could have slept for longer. When I woke up I sent an email to Sir Norman Lloyd Edwards President of the United Services Mess, to say that I had a stroke and wouldn't be fit and well enough to deliver the Mess Grace at this year's Remembrance dinner.

My afternoon walk in Thompson's Park was hard going, not least because of the chilling wind that gusted from time to time. I took my TZ 95 camera out with me for the first time since the stroke, as it wasn't dull, but clouds with sunshine and occasional sprinkles of rain. I only took a few pictures of trees turning colour and the autumnal carpet of yellow and brown leaves.

When I returned there was a reply from Sir Norman to say there would be no more Mess Remembrance dinners, as the 116 year old institution had voted to close down for lack of membership and income. So it turns out that I was the last Hon Chaplain to say Grace and speak the traditional words from the hymn 'O Valiant Hearts' used in the Mess Remembrance ceremony during the meal.

Tranquil you lie, your knightly virtue proved / Your memory hallowed in the land you loved.

There's an old saying among military veterans, taken from a parody of a hymn: 'Old soldiers never die, they just fade away'. The same is true of their institutions too. British armed forces have down sized and are less visible in public life, except on ceremonial occasions. Many soldiers commute to work rather than live in military bases, their patterns of socialisation are different from the way they were in times past. Originally, the United Services Mess provided a meeting place in the city for those stationed at Maindy Barracks or a naval unit on the coast, or St Athan Aerodrome. This doesn't work socially for modern professional soldiers. Post 1945 generations of service personnel eventually became veterans themselves. numbers slowly diminish and Mess members are not being replaced, so it's no longer sustainable, as a social organisation.

On occasions during my time at St John's the church was asked to take custody of a veteran's association banner, when there were no more members of the organisation left to parade with it. It was suspended from the wall of the side chapel, silently telling a story of past generations of servicemen, now part of the nation's past. St John's city parish church has commemorative plaques to honour fallen USM members, but there never was a banner to be paraded at annual services or laid up at the end of its life. I wonder how the story of the Mess will be remembered at St John's in times to come?

This evening I wrote a biblical reflection on the phrase 'Keep alert' in the light of my stroke experience. I'll publish it on the Parish What'sApp Daily Prayer thread, when I think it's ready.

The Class Mass resumes

This morning's Mass at St German's was special. For the first time since the pandemic a group of three dozen children joined the regular congregation of six. As they were  all from the year six group, they were old enough to have been before and be used to the service. It meant that I was able to lead them in singing a few familiar choruses, as I used to do on locum duty in times past.

The new head teacher at Tredegarville, Vicky Constantinou, started work on Monday, so after the service I went down to the school to introduce myself and welcome her. She's promised herself to join a group of children and see for herself what happens next week or the week after.

When I got home I went straight out again and fetched the week's veggie bag. After lunch I went into town on the bus part of the way, to save time, and caught a bus part of the way on the return trip for the same reason. I wanted to buy a computer mouse, as the one I most often use has lost its clicking sensitivity. It could be easy to fix if only I could work out how to open it up without breaking it, so I took the least desirable line of action and shopped for a new one. 

To my surprise the only well stocked digital hardware retailer in the city centre, John Lewis, doesn't stock them. The Curry's tech store in St David's centre closed during lock-down, but fortunately Ryman's in Queen's Arcade still sells a variety of computer peripherals and office supplies, and there was a choice of half a dozen on its shelves. Bravo!

It was so pleasing to see St John's City Parish Church open again on a weekday, as it was closed during lock-down, and only opened for the Sunday Eucharist once this became permissible. Now 'Cards for Good Causes' has opened its Christmas pop-up shop in the north aisle and the public is free to entre and pray as well as buy cards. It was quiet when I went in, and apart from the shop, the lights weren't on and the nave was quiet and empty. Eight happy years of my final ministry appointment were spent here. It seems a long time ago now. Already many if not most of the people who were actively engaged have died or moved on, and been replaced by others, so it's the same building, but a different place for me now.

I cooked a soup for supper using the dark green tops that are often tough of the two huge leeks that were in our veggie bag. According to Clare it didn't have a distinctively leeky flavour. At least it looked green! We watched a couple of laugh out loud episodes of M*A*S*H after supper, and then I went upstairs to do my smartphone Duo Lingo daily drill, and some writing before turning in for the night. For no accountable reason I was overwhelmed with drowsiness and fell asleep fully clothed with the Blackberry in my hand, sleeping for an hour and a half before ending the day properly.

Tatyana's gift

Thursday and Friday passed by uneventfully, with two surprises. When I went to lock the church on Thursday evening, I discovered on the piano near the side door into the church room a gilded 'Hodigitria' icon of Our Lady, holding up and pointing to Jesus, with a note hastily scribbled on a piece of card saying 'Thank you for a lovely wedding. From Bulgarian Tatyana'.

The couple must have been passing by car on their way back to Britain and dropped by in haste to deliver it. I didn't hear the doorbell, that's for sure.

Friday's surprise was the announcement of a new Priest in Charge for St John the Baptist City Parish Church back home. It's another Canon Sarah Jones, currently Rector of the Ross Team Ministry in Hereford diocese. Having someone with big team experience suggests to me that Bishop June may want to work on making a Central Cardiff Ministry Area grouping of Parishes even larger than the Rectorial Benefice that I inherited and Archbishop Barry saw fit to dissolve. That was another time, when central redevelopment and closing St James' were a major energy draining occupation. A part of consolidation ahead of re-grouping. If this is the plan, let's hope the new priest stays long enough to see it through.

Apart from brief bus trips into town to the shops, all I had to do was look after my wound, so slowly drying out. The swelling is almost all gone now, and one anti- inflammatory pill a day is enough to keep me almost pain free.

Today, I walked into town and back, and walked to Territet port and the tennis club, where the Montreux Ladies Open is taking place, I was delighted with a couple of action shots I was able to take. This is the best! 

I wish I had the photo skills to highlight the ball, as it's just left the racquet, in that microsecond when the player serving is still in the air. It was sheer luck in conditions highly favourable to my Sony HX50, and it made my day.

It's Freddy Mercury's 72nd birthday, had he lived. There are two days of festive events either side of the date and the market hall has been turned into a venue for loud rock concerts. His statue on the Montreux Marché quay is bedecked with a sunflower wreath and an assortment of cards and votive offerings. It's even more of a shrine than usual, and a stream of people want to pose with it. To me it's nothing more than idol worship. Today, however is also the festival Our Lady's birthday. It's an ironic coincidence. No Eucharist for me today, but I was able to light a candle in front of Mary's icon while I said the Office of the day, thanks to Tatyana.

This evening I watched Harry There was a sequence of First World War songs in honour of the 1918 Armistice commemoration. Hearing 'Roses of Picardie' sung reminded me of being at home with the family as a child, listening to my mother playing piano and sisters singing this song. I emailed my sister June. She said she'd been singing along out loud - annoying the neighbours, she hoped for a change, instead of them annoying her. That made me smile.

It's my final Sunday tomorrow, and the announcement of the appointment of a new chaplain. That's three locum assignments in a row where this has happened to me, as I was about to leave. Amazing!
  

Remembering Pauline at St John's

Another duty-free Sunday meant that I could walk into town this morning and attend the Eucharist at St John the Baptist City Parish Church, and commiserate with old friends in the congregation at the loss of Pauline Grainger, one of the stalwarts of St John's over the past forty years. She was the same age as me, and was active in the church's ministry of hospitality, sidesperson, church warden on occasions. Most important for church life was her role in developing the church Tea Room in the choir vestry from its tentative beginning, under my predecessor Mac Ellis, to a properly equipped, not for profit enterprise run by teams of volunteers, open six days a week under her quiet guidance.

She was intelligent, versatile and creatively gifted, and could have gone to university, but when she left school, she trained as a Midland Bank clerk, working down the Docks and in the city centre. Her dad ran his own garage and car dealership, so Pauline acquired her sound business sense at home. She found a spiritual home at St John's when the renowned Canon Edwin Davies was Vicar. She understood his vision for church in the marketplace and spent much of her life putting it into practise. She loved singing in various choirs, and ended up running one of them 'Oriana' which would put on a Christmas fundraiser in church every December. Although she'd occasionally sing in the church choir, she could usually be found on Sunday mornings near the door, welcoming people and giving out books. 

For the past five years she'd lived with bone marrow cancer, but none of the treatments, including trialling the latest experimental therapies were able to do more than slow down its progression. Yet, she remained actively engaged in St John's life until just after I returned from  Spain, when she had a stroke. Even so, two weeks before her death, she was brought to church in a wheelchair, in effect saying goodbye to the people and place she took to heart and served for so many years. She'd asked at the onset of the final crisis if I could take part in her funeral with Sarah the outgoing Vicar, when wasn't expected to last quite so long. Sadly, it happens on 6th August, four busy days after I arrive in Montreux. I couldn't even fly home after next Sunday's service, as I'm up at Villars for a service at six, too late to travel. I've written a tribute to her and sent it to Sarah to use in the service as she thinks fit.

Without a little research, it's impossible to say exactly how much money was raised over a twenty year period by the Tea Room but it was certainly a six figure sum, enough to contribute substantially to the organ restoration fund, and pay for a complete interior decoration of the church. A couple of dozen volunteers each week helped out with cooking, serving, washing and clearing up, Pauline among them, when she wasn't visiting the Cash and Carry shopping for supplies. She was one of those quiet natural leaders who don't feel compelled to be forever up-front, but are content be with and among people to guide and encourage. A marvellous example of the kind of lay ministry which enables the church to live and fulfil its purpose, with or without sufficient clergy. She will be greatly missed by so many people from different walks of life. I'll miss her, both as a good friend and partner in the mission of an outstanding church in the marketplace. May she rest in peace.
  

A welcome diversion

I awoke just as my phone alarm went off, in good time to get Rhiannon to waking up and get ready for school. As she ate her breakfast toast, she was revising for a French test. I'm delighted that she has the opportunity to learn Spanish in school as well as French. Indeed, it may now be easier for her to learn French from scratch, as she's had several years of absorbing Spanish vocabulary passively and using simple phrases to order things in shops and restaurants on situ, on their visits to Sta Pola. Her friend Mollie turned up at ten to eight, as she does every school day for them to walk the mile across town to Kenilworth Comprehensive, now in the throes of turning into an Academy. Let's hope it continues to offer courses in more than one European language through to exam level for those who are motivated to take the opportunity.

After the girls left at eight, I said morning prayer, and meditated for rather a long time, meaning that I fell asleep while doing so. I hadn't arranged to do anything else today, and was expecting to drive back in the evening, but Kath mentioned they'd be back from their gig just a couple of hours after Rhiannon came home from school, and that they'd be comfortable with her being home alone for a short while. So, by eleven o'clock, I'd packed, locked the house and was on my way back to Cardiff, but without a deadline to meet. On the first leg of the journey, I debated with myself about whether to visit Evesham, en route, or Tewkesbury, not far off route. It's over forty years since I last visited Tewkesbury, and thirty since visiting Evesham. Both have fine churches worth a visit, but Tewkesbury is the one I have a sense of connection with.

St John's City Parish Church, my final incumbency, was a Chapel of Ease serving Cardiff Castle, in the Parish of St Mary the Virgin built on the banks of the river Taff as a Priory Church of Tewkesbury Abbey around 1180, a time when the Abbey itself was flourishing, and its present building was starting to take shape. Sadly during my eight years at St John's we never managed a parish visit to Tewkesbury, perhaps because it was deemed to be just a tad too far an outing for a mainly elderly congregation, a hour and a half away. A pity really, as we would have lacked for nothing. 

The town is lovely and full of interesting historic buildings, including a very early Baptist chapel and cemetery near the river Severn. The Abbey has developed a splendid visitor centre in the grounds and a church shop inside. It's the title church of the Suffragan Bishop of Gloucester, itself a post reformation see of the Established Church, and thus a place of significance in the life of Gloucester Diocese. These days, the Abbey is the keystone of an area of rural Parishes as well as the town, served by a team of clergy, some of whom are designated as Pioneer Ministers, free to take new initiatives in relation to rural and urban ministry, after decades in which the life of the whole region has changed radically.

I stopped there for just over an hour, spending most of my time in the Abbey, which was preparing to welcome mourners for a funeral, having held a Burial of Ashes service before I arrived. The place is in good repair after major fund raising campaigns in recent decades, culminating in the recent overhaul of interior lighting, which now showcases the wonderful vaulted roof atop thick Norman circular pillars. My memory of that previous visit was awakened by the sight of several huge cast iron heating stoves in the north and south aisles, relics of efforts made a hundred and fifty years ago to heat the building, still far from successful. What's different about them now is that they've been converted from coke to gas, so the smell of combustion no longer lingers in the building. What a funny thing to remember. 

All the medieval side chapels have been restored to use, and several of them feature an altar reredos in the form of a painted triptych. I don't know if any of them are ancient and acquired from elsewhere, but what I did notice was that at least one of them is a modern rendering in an ancient style - and why not? Byzantine icons are still being 'written' today in the same forms and with the same techniques as they were a thousand years ago. Beauty is timeless in its ability to inspire awe and wonder. So, if any type of art in any era is beautiful enough to inspire awe and wonder, it can be said to be successful.

Thus far my journey had been in overcast but dry weather. As I left the Abbey, it started to rain, and rained all the way home. But never mind, I have photos to remind me of just how splendid Tewkesbury Abbey is. You can find them here.