Home journey

After about six hours broken sleep, I rose at 05.15. This gave me just enough time to treat my wound, sort out a travel first aid kit to go in my cabin rucksack with my breakfast sarnies, take the remaining rubbish out to the communal bins, bag up things to be collected for washing, then get myself across the road for the 06.23 S2 stopping train to Montreux gare. The 06.47 from there got me to Geneva airport at 07.59. Unlike when Clare travelled early last week, there were no crowds and no queues. I dropped off my bag and passed through into the departure lounge in a record 15 minutes from the train, which gave me a two and a half hour wait to boarding. This meant standing most of the time, as the hard seats available weren't designed for comfort. The train and plane seats were also quite firm, so getting comfortable meant bracing myself for support.

I had to wait for the airport bus and for a train at Temple Meads (which was delayed 5 minutes) and then got on a 61 bus home with enough time to drop off my bags at home and walk to the doctors. On Romilly Crescent, however, there was a 200m queue of stationary traffic, so I begged the driver to let me off in between stops, and walked straight to the surgery pulling my case and got there in good time. I came away with a week's course of penicillin to take, and a supplement to my existing blood pressure medication to try out. Inevitably, the surgery reading take was high, given the time I'd been travelling and the associated stress, so I'll wait and see how my readings are this week, while the antibiotic medication gets to work on what remains of the abscess.

Apart from unpacking and eating a meal, the remainder of the day was spent resting. The journey really took it out of me, so just relaxing at home after the stress of the past few weeks is a blessing.  I'm glad that me diary is empty for the weeks ahead.
   

Final locum duties

I celebrated the midweek BCP Communion service at St John's for the last time this morning. Geoff with Poppy his golden retriever and Bethany-Ann plus her little daughter were there. Monica drove down from Les Avants to join us, and make her farewells. She's been so supportive of the Tuesday Bible discussion group over the past five years, as have Geoff and Joy.

Then I sent off my end of stay report to the Archdeacon and the diocesan office, and set addressed myself to tidying up and packing. With a 06.23 train to catch tomorrow morning, I need everything to be ready to go before I sleep.

Once I was satisfied with my efforts, I took the bus into town to get my train ticket for tomorrow, and as I had two hour ticket I returned to Territet and took the Funi to Glion, for a final overview of the lake on a sunny day. I conversed in German with a couple of visitors on the ascent, and was able to direct them to the lovely terrace garden overlooking the lake, belonging to the Hotel Righi Vaudois, for one of the best views, looking towards Vevey. It surprises me that this most neglected of languages that I once learned comes back to me enough to make myself understood.

Geoff and Joy invited me to have supper with them. We sat out on their terracem ate drank fine wine and talked until sunset, then we walked together with Poppy back to Territet along the promenade, before taking out leave of each other. This evening is actually the first time in a month that I've been able to sit down at a table for any length of time. Let's hope this holds good for the trip home.

    

Tree hugging daughter and chalice quest accomplished

A quiet Monday, mostly spent looking after the wound, though I did get out and walk up as far as Veytaux gare late afternoon. While I was listening to the Archers I noticed the western sky was flooded with extraordinary deep red light, as the sun headed toward the horizon. I walked down to the port and got some amazing photos with my HX50. I posted three on Instagram and immediately began to get a series of 'likes', mostly from people I didn't know. You can see the photos here

Clare shared some good news of Rachel with me. Last week she posted a photo on Instagram of herself, high up in a tree. I thought she was just out having fun. She, Kath and both their daughters have always enjoyed tree climbing, being active and athletic types, but there was more to the photo, as Clare told me. Rachel has made friends with a tree surgeon, and has done paid work experience recently. He's going to train her up to work as his assistant, and with luck she'll get a qualification that'll enable her to earn a living, and this will subsidise her poorly paid making music making. She is a real tree hugger, and happiest in the great outdoors. I'm so glad  for her, and it reduces my worry level considerably. I'm quite confident she'll be safe climbing trees, properly kitted out. This is a real lifeline for her in every sense.

I had an email from Martin, telling me about a chalice he'd sourced for St George's Malaga, and at a reasonable price. He started hunting for something suitable back in March, and I'm amazed that he continued looking after a few setbacks. It's just ideal for weekday use or house group communions, and it has an Anglican history, having been made for the new Parish of All Saints in Leeds back in the 1850s. It was a period of prosperity driven over expansion of church buildings, and it has long since disappeared, with its redundant assets being traded on eventually. It's a beautiful simple piece of work in sterling silver, very durable. And, it'll arrive just as Fr Paul Wignall starts as Chaplain of Malaga. Have started the ball rolling on this, I am delighted, and satisfied to have closure on this, thanks to my dear good friend Martin. 

Like his late mother Jane, he has an eye for valuable antiques and has participated in the legitimate trading of church silverware for for many years, helping the newly ordained to acquire sick  visiting communion sets or chalices of their own, from the vast stock of items from closed churches. Earlier this year he acquired a full army chaplain's field communion set in its original case, and in good repair, dating from World War One, when it was used in action. Its owner was killed, and somehow the set didn't find its way back to the MoD, but ended up in an attic for a century, until retrieved ina house clearance. There were letters from that period in the case, plus the document of the military commission received by the priest. What a treasure!

   

Good news in Montreux

My farewell Sunday Eucharist this morning. No more locum duty is needed here as an appointment has been made. I don't know who's coming, but the Church Wardens were delighted to make this much of an announcement at the end of the service. Mojacar, Malaga and now Montreux - three places in a row where I have been in post when a prospective Chaplain has visited and later accepted the appointment. It gives me a kind of job satisfaction, daring to think that I have been useful in a small way as part of the process that leads to another priest uprooting themselves and venturing to move to and serve in another community/country. The vacancy in Canton Benefice was filled before I left for Montreux. Thursday this week I return home, with no idea of what comes next in my ever eventful ministerial life. What an adventure!

After lunch I walked to Chateau de Chillon in the sun, annoying myself by losing an unused public transport ticket en route, having noticed it on the return trip and passing it over without realising it was what I dropped. I won't be doing much more travelling around in my final few days. I just have to lie low, rest and look after my affliction in order to be ready for a journey which may or may not be uncomfortable, as I still can't sit properly. But, so far so good.

I watched the four episode of of the BBC autumn season's popular it serial 'Bodyguard'. Yet again a Jed Mercurio story featuring Keely Hawes in which, sad to say, she doesn't make it to the end. The plot thickens however, with much villainy revealed in high places. But is the final resolution of it all going to be entirely in the hands of one lone male outsider/avenger/victim? 

Reading, recuperating

There were three of us and a child for the midweek Eucharist again this morning. I spent most of the day in the house despite the weather, resting, recovering. It's slow. I have to be patient with myself. In the post was a facture for lab tests on a tissue sample taken from me, presumably to confirm what Mr Cotton diagnosed. I rang him to check if there was a report to be added to the one already given to my GP, but we got cut off in mid conversation. I was reluctant to call again in case there was a medical emergency at the other end, and emailed the surgery instead.

I took the bus into town and back to do some shopping, rather than walk as I usually do. My energy levels are reasonably good, but am cautious about over-exercising while the wound is still draining, albeit now very slowly. Having finished reading 'Girl on the Train', I'm now reading a Swedish novel written as a sequel to the late Stieg Larsson's Millennium Trilogy about modern cyber-crime, by the novelist David Lagerkranz, with the same theme employing two key characters from the original series - genius hacker Lisbeth Salander 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' and investigative journalist Mikkel Bloomquist. It's called 'The Girl in the Spider's Web'. A bit slow starting, but so far so good.

I recent years, my reading has been largely confined to on-line articles and news. To have time to be be reading novels again is unusual. It's something I attribute largely to there being so little attracting my interest on TV, despite being able to get over half a dozen UK TV channels. No chance of catch up, or box set watching out here.

Looking to the future

Just after breakfast, my phone pinged notifying me of an email from my home surgery in Pontcanna confirming an appointment with Dr Jordan a week after my return. If needs be I can change it with a 'book on the day' alternative. Clare had been there already, to hand in the surgical report and my accompanying letter. The new booking system is working amazingly well.

Although the weather has been sunny and a little warmer, I didn't venture out today, except for the Tuesday afternoon bible study in church with the same handful of faithful people, always keen to explore and ask questions. Following from Sunday's gospel about defilement coming from within, I found myself fielding questions about spiritual ailments and the nature of the demonic, and the need to resist the impulse to take revenge and seek retribution. We also explored the difference between a decision based on Judgement and on Discernment. 

As always with this particular group, we returned to the question of what should we do to make St John's more alive and attractive to newcomers? It's not just a matter of concern because of a period of decline. The life of the church is valued and seen as worth sharing. But how can opportunities be recognised and acted upon? How to discern God's moment? I pointed out that asking the right kind of questions and exploring together through study and prayer was essential. Praying together outside the liturgy, it was admitted, didn't come easily for many. It has to be shown and taught, after all. 

Much emphasis is placed in ministerial leadership today, on good management and communication skills, and helping congregations develop SMART mission plans with a clear sense of purpose, and even vision statements! I've done all this kind of stuff in the past, and am not sure really what it was worth in the development of congregations I cared for. In fact, I'm not sure how faithful this is to apostolic teaching as expressed in the Acts of the Apostles. Prayer, proclamation of the Gospel, openness too and responsiveness to the promptings of the Spirit, and discernment in an ever changing situation are, to my mind, the key themes. Talking about Vision - i.e. what you see, isn't nearly as good as seeing then acting. 

In Acts, there's plenty of spontaneity, and unplanned action. It all seems haphazard and messy, yet it turns out to be fruitful, even the setbacks encountered in mission. If any of the apostles were potential managers, it must have given them a crisis of confidence to have to respond to the promptings of the Spirit. Administration is certainly one of the gifts of the Spirit, but one among a variety of ministries of the spirit, and not the most dominant.  Discernment of the gifts of the Spirit which are there in a church community must be done together, through reflection and prayer. It takes time, this kind of 'seeing'.

I hope that the appointment of a permanent chaplain, to start in January, but whose name is not yet made public, will help. They will need to ask, maybe even pester their new priest about learning to pray together in different ways. It's not easy to admit, even though St Paul himself admitted "We don't know how to pray as we ought." All I can do is encourage them to be bold in asking.

Up into the clouds

Yesterday evening, I had to miss out on Caroline's annual supper party, but Clare took Rhiannon and I stayed behind and spent the evening reading. Choirmaster Peter phoned to apologise. He's still off sick with pneumonia. He thought we might have no organist tomorrow, and asked me to let choir members know. I texted Clare at the party to ask her to warn choir members attending. In the event we ended up with two organists, both coming from earlier first services. There were twenty of us for the Eucharist, with one organist staying on to sing in the choir, which was nice.

After lunch we ascended to Rochers de Naye by funi and train. The sky was overcast, with unbroken cloud above 1,800m. The restaurant and terminus station is at 2045m, and was shrouded in dank mist throughout our visit. Rhiannon wasn't as disappointed as we were, however. The experience of being outdoors high up in swirling clouds exercised her imagination, thinking about vampires, and maybe reminding her of a movie set.

We walked along the ridge track to visit the Alpine Garden, unable to see more than five metres either side, but we were able to see some of the many flowers collected and growing there, in their autumnal colours. We met a family from Leipzig at the garden and chatted to them in German, they were Adventists, and probably the conversation started because I was wearing my cross. A pleasant surprise, high up on a cold damp hillside. We stayed out for three quarters of an hour, had a drink and caught the next train back. There's only so much interest to be found in the ebb and flow of clouds, seen from the inside.  

Patiently waiting

Tuesday, Joy took me to have the wound dressed at eleven. In the afternoon there was a bible study session in church. We used Ephesians 6:10-20 and discussed aspects of spiritual struggle, using the Charles Wesley hymn 'Soldiers of Christ arise' (sung twice at Villars on Sunday) as a parallel text, as it is based on this passage of scripture. Sitting down properly all the time wasn't possible, but I got through it without making things worse for myself. Olive baked some wonderful rum-laced chocolate muffins, doing an extra three for Clare Rhiannon and I since she remembered what I had said about Rhiannon coming. How thoughtful! What a welcoming treat for a teen chocolate lover!

This morning wasn't very comfortable, I had diarrhoea half an hour before I was due to celebrate the midweek BCP Communion. I had a congregation of four adults and a child, bigger than usual, so I had to battle on, occasionally making verbal mistakes, which is unusual for me, probably due to the shock of the unexpected.

Before I could go and have the wound dressing changed, I had a meeting with Bruce and Tatyana, to prepare them for Saturday's wedding blessing. She and I have corresponded over months past. As a Bulgarian Orthodox Christian, I was keen that we should find ways to include traditional music from the Eastern liturgical tradition as well as the Western. It's involved a certain amount of on-line research, to obtain suitable material, but that's been a pleasant occupation, and they were pleased with the ideas I presented them.

After the rehearsal I took the bus into town for the surgery appointment. Mr Cotton himself treated me rather than a nurse, Being a hand-on sort of medic he was keen to inspect how the drainage was going. He declared himself satisfied, and said that the earlier bout of diarrhoea could probably be due to the blocked gland functioning properly and signalling to the bowel a return to normality. An interesting thought. I did a small amount of shopping after the treatment, then took a bus back to the house. I was able to use the same ticket, as I was within its hour's usage limit. 

As I got off the bus, there were two burly black clad ticket inspectors on the pavement checking people's tickets. It's rare to see an inspector on much local public transport apart from trains, but even rarer to have one on only my second bus use in three duty tours here. Getting single use tickets from a machine here is far too complex, though Clare has now mastered it, which is why we have tickets. Previously I've just given up in frustration and walked instead. 

Clare and Rhiannon's flight was subjected to a half hour delay, but without cabin baggage they were able to walk through and dash for a train which arrived Territet at eleven thirty. The happy arrival was celebrated with chocolate muffins!

  

Jet setter's wedding

Church Warden Jane and I were much relieved yesterday afternoon when the wedded couple turned up, presented their credentials, and paid up in advance, as required. It was very difficult, knowing so little about a couple, more from social media that from their application form. They had not even shared with us their disappointment that the wedding arranger they thought they'd engaged would not return their calls any more than return ours. As a result there were no flowers for the ceremony in church. Anyway, the groom is a banker and the bride is a conservationist working with an NGO in the upper reaches of the Niger river by the Camerounian border. As this region is home to several global conservation NGOs, the reason for holding a big wedding celebration here is understandable.

Both families are from the elite of Nigerian society, and guests attending the ceremony came from two different Gulf states, the USA, UK and Switzerland, though I guess two thirds of them flew in from Lagos for the occasion. There were 120 people in church., and we ran on 'African time' as Jane called in. The groom was 15 minutes late and the bride 45 minutes late, and I started the celebration a hour behind schedule. At least it gave me a chance to rehearse the congregation in singing Amen and an Alleluia response to the Psalm. This went down well, people sang with great enthusiasm and apparently, we heard today, continued to sing them at the reception. I wasn't invited, but it gave me great pleasure, knowing that the songs of worship learned spilled over into the wedding feast. For a brief moment, life and worship have continuity between them.

We were twenty people and three dogs in church for today's Sung Eucharist, laf and half choir and congregation. Choirmaster Peter is off sick with pneumonia, but Geoff his predecessor took charge and all went as normal. Clare had a lunch rendezvous with former colleague at Le Contretemps in the port. I ate alone and got ready for the trip to Aiglon Chapel in Villars for an Evening Eucharist. Jane met me from the train at Aigle again. Pain from my troubled rear end was worse than usual so I had to stand for the train journey and wedge myself awkwardly into the car seat for the ascent to avoid pressure. Fortunately by over use of medication it calmed down sufficiently for me to take the service, for just five people plus Jane. A dozen regulars are away on this final weekend before term starts at Aiglon College. 

The elderly couple to whom I took Communion at home, just after New Year were among the few. He broke his leg back then, and still walks with a stick, his recovery being slow, but he's walking, that's what counts. For reasons unknown, the lady accompanying hymns on the piano repeated the first hymn at the end. It wasn't a liturgical catastrophe, however, as it was 'Soldiers of Christ arise' a great Charles Wesley hymn summarising the message of the Ephesians 6:10-20 which I'd preached about.

Today has been quite a struggle to functional normally against the background of discomfort from inflammation. Tomorrow, I'm chasing a medical appointment.

       

Lying low

Wednesday morning at the midweek BCP Communion service with me were Geoff and Poppy his dog and Bethany-Ann with her youngest daughter, rising five, wearing a toutou over her skirt. Her mother is teaching her how to help out at the altar, so she puts the candles out and tidies things away in the right place. It's not often I'm served in the sanctuary by someone wearing a toutou!

At lunchtime, Collette arrived from Arlesheim to stay with us for a couple of days. We speak a mix of English and French between us, which is quite a mental exercise. There's always lots to discuss, especially with Clare, as they were Steiner School colleagues together in Geneva.

In the afternoon I was visited by an elderly British expat who has lived in Montreux half the year and half the year in Florida for ages, but has now decided to re-establish himself in Britain. He came to ask if I could visit an even older British expat who lives near the Casino in town, so I promised I would do this and arranged to see him today. He's ninety nine and was widowed a few years ago. He lives in a fine apartment overlooking the lake, cared for by daily visits from a home nursing team. His mobility is limited, but he's alert and reads the Financial Times daily, having spent a lifetime in the global shipping business. When I arrived a very loud intruder alarm was sounding. Instead of pressing the entry button, the nurse pressed the alarm button. It took twenty minutes to find the system code and restore tranquility. An unusual way to start a pastoral visit!

Apart from this, I've spent the last couple of days mostly in the house, despite the dreadful humidity, leaving the girls to walk and talk without me. I did some cooking, and we ate lunch and supper together. I've not felt much like going out and walking since returned from Grabs, as my haemorrhoid pain problem has worsened and I've had to focus on pain control, using anti-inflammatory and anti-spasm medication. It's hard working out the most effective dosage rhythm, as intensity varies through the day, from day to day. I am well used to getting up at night, so I manage somehow not to suffer from sleep loss. Having said that, I've been sleeping extra hours this week, and resting in the afternoon, as it seems to make a difference.

We're noticing how much more expensive medication is in Swiss pharmacies. It's just as well I have additional income in Swiss Francs to cover the cost, especially if I am required to get a consultation at the local medical centre. Even if this is a nominal cost with an EHIC card, any special remedy is likely to be expensive. So far, I haven't felt that this resort has been necessary.

Talking of weddings, Saturday's couple have communicated with us only minimally, so apart from an agreed order of service, there's a lot to be done before and during the rehearsal scheduled tomorrow afternoon.

Travel plans

At last! An email with an apology and a copy of the certificate arrived this morning. Apart from the rehearsal meeting with the couple, liturgical preparations for the wedding were done and approved two weeks ago. Now I can concentrate on preparing a wedding taking place the following Saturday. That one calls for a recorded mix of western classical and Bulgarian Orthodox liturgical music for use at a wedding. This is rather out of the ordinary, but something I shall enjoy.

Each afternoon this week, apart from walking into town for shopping, we've walked to the plage by the Chateau de Chillon so that Clare can swim. The water offshore is really warm at the moment after weeks of hot weather, although there lots of small pieces vegetation to be negotiated, blown from the trees on occasional stormy days. Even by Swiss standards it's been a long hot summer.

Because of the heat, we've not felt like venturing far up to now, but on Sunday, after church, we go by train to Grabs on the border with Lichtenstein to see our old friends Heinz and Marie-Luisa. As we both now have abonnements-demi tarif,  we were able to benefit from discount fare offers. It's costing  us CHF202 for the both of us to travel there and back - a four and a half hour journey. What this would cost in the UK doesn't bear thinking about.

Late arrivals

Yesterday afternoon, Joy and Geoff took me up to Monica' house up the mountainside at Les Avants for a Bible study session and afternoon tea. We were treated to a deliciously light chocolate sponge cake which her sixteen year old grandson had baked. He has no ambition to be a chef or pastrycook, he just loves baking, and works with recipes researched on the internet. Our study compared Mark and Luke's versions of the Transfiguration story, and then looked a 2 Peter 1 "We were eyewitnesses of his majesty ..." I'm impressed at how this regular group meeting has persisted since the last Chaplain left. I can't think of any chaplaincy bible study group that's survived an interregnum apart from here. It doesn't matter that it's rarely more than half a dozen people, it's core commitment that counts.

Both Clare and Ann's flights were due to land mid evening, with a connecting train arriving at half part ten. After celebrating the midweek BCP Holy Communion service with Geoff, and doing some shopping, it was a long day of waiting with a couple of hours spent cooking a spicy veggie soup for a late supper. Clare's flight was delayed ten minutes on leaving. For interest, I tracked it down to its final approach run on the EasyJet app, but then had an unexpected wait, as the aircraft was hindered from discharging passengers and luggage by a heavy downpour and thunderstorm. For this reason they missed a connecting train which would have delivered them to Territet gare, across the road from the house by eleven, but arrived  at Montreux gare instead just before a quarter to midnight.

Joy very kindly offered to meet them and bring them back to Church House, and I went with her. As they were still on British time, they weren't too tired for such a late supper, so it was a good hour before we got to bed, and longer before sleep took over, due to the heat and the excitement. So, we all slept late. After lunch, Clare and Ann went for a walk as far as the Chateau to Chillon, but I had to stay behind, as pain from my problematic piles left me feeling quite unwell. I stayed in bed much of the day. Thankfully, as Ann is a retired nurse familiar with this affliction, she, proposed a routine to manage the episodes of extreme discomfort with regular low doses of ibuprofen and buscopan. Needless to say, I'm willing to give it a go!

Anticipated Transfiguration

We celebrated the feast of the Transfiguration today, in advance of tomorrow. It was good to be back again, with a congregation of two dozen mostly familiar faces. After lunch, I took the train to Aigle where churchwarden Jane met me and drove us up to Villars for the evening Eucharist with fifteen present. This was an occasion for me to remember in prayer Roy Damary, Reader at Holy Trinity Geneva, who died back in June. He was up in Villars bringing Communion from the Reserved Sacrament to a group of Christmas Day worshippers, a couple of weeks before my last visit there in January. 

I talked briefly about him coming at great personal effort driving 120+km from Geneva on Christmas Day, stepping in when they had no priest to serve them. An expression of his concern that the church shouldn't fail to maintain its round of worship, and naturally that's what being a lay minister was all about. After the service, nobody made mention of this to me. Then, it occurred to me that there may not have been anyone present on this occasion who was there on Christmas Day, such is the fluidity of attendance among regulars as well as visitors.

Maintaining pastoral relations with mobile people in dispersed congregations of this kind is never easy.  There's always a risk that ministry becomes nothing more than than cordial but transient engagement between consumers and producers of religious events. It's already characteristic of funeral and wedding ministry, despite efforts made to ensure the occasion is charged with personal meaning. Does publicity and marketing of church ministry make any difference? I doubt it. Good quality information may encourage people to take church ministry and ministers seriously, but time is needed for lasting relationships to grow, and in an increasingly mobile rootless world, this is far harder to achieve. I don't have any answers. There's more to learn about this new world, to know what the right questions may be.
  

Baptismal encounter

When I came to prepare for today's Christening, I couldn't find the vials containing the Oil of the Catechumens and the Oil of Chrism. I had this vague recollection of having seen them bundled into the Blessed Sacrament aumbry in the Lady Chapel and thinking that wasn't appropriate at the time. I made some enquiries, but drew a blank. The aumbry key was not to be found. What I had forgotten when I started hunting was that I had removed them to a separate place on my last visit. 

Eventually I found them in a box labelled 'Our Lady' sitting quietly on a sacristy shelf. How memory can play tricks on us! The aumbry key, identifiable by a tassel attached to it, was as Caroline the sacristan insisted, in the main vestry safe, but instead of being visible, inits usual position, it was hiding in one of the chalices at the back of the safe.

The next obstacle was finding a baptism certificate. There were none in the study or in the sacristy, and it's possible the stock had run out and not yet been replaced, but nobody could remember. Then, by accident in with the baptism register in the safe, I found an old booklet of baptism certificate forms, dating back, I'd guess to early in the twentieth century, although the stub relating to the first entry was dated 1954. 

Amazingly, there were two loose certificate forms in the empty booklet and I was able to use one of them. The story of their daughter Mia's vintage baptism certificate gave her parents a little amusement, or was it bemusement? The church has only had one baptism register, in its life. The first entry dates from 1866, when ministry to English holidaymakers and residents here began in a hotel private chapel, ten years before the church was constructed.

The certificate, like the register, is simpler than modern equivalents, having no column for date of birth, and no separate column to account for the 'rank, profession or occupation of the mother as well as the father. That's a change for the better from my perspective.

The parents and brothers of Magnus the father arrived an hour early from Italy, and by that time all was ready, so I had time to chat with them about the history of the British in Switzerland, St John's and the nature of the Church of England's reformed catholic character, or you could say equally, its evolved protestanism I guess, as things have changed so much as a result of the liturgical revisions which have taken place during my lifetime. The mother Sarah's family are Belgian Catholics and Magnus's family are Church of Sweden, protestants, yet the baptism service nowadays would be equally familiar to everyone, both in form and content, largely due to ecumenical agreements made on Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry in the last half of the twentieth century. Great, and hopefully lasting achievements on the path to the reconciliation of churches worldwide.

I greatly enjoyed celebrating the baptism with these two relaxed and happy families. They expressed their appreciation, as they took their leave, and Sarah gave me a box of Lindt liqueur chocolates as a personal thank you gift. Then I walked to the lakeside apartment of Geoff and Joy for an apero, and met a couple from Texas who are newcomers to St John's. I ended up staying until nearly ten, well after the couple had left, as we got into some deep conversations about the changing face of the church and its ministry. Fortunately, my sermon for tomorrow was prepared before I came, and already printed. Now it's just a matter of getting to sleep in the heat.

  

The inside view

On Sunday, preparation for today's colonoscopy appointment started with a switch to a simple low fibre diet, until yesterday afternoon. Then I had to move on to a liquids only fast. It didn't leave me with much energy, but I whiled away the time gathering some of the things I need to take with me to Montreux, earnestly hoping that the investigation wouldn't reveal anything that'd prevent me from leaving, especially as I have a Baptism preparation arranged for Friday and the service on Saturday.

Churchwarden Jane was in touch over the weekend to advise me of a second wedding blessing in four week's time. I dread the thought of not being able to meet the commitment I made, and need to arrange for another to take my place at short notice. The offer of an appointment, so quickly after the preliminary inspection wasn't to be turned down, however, after a six month wait.

At tea time I had to drink a litre of fluid over an hour, laced with oral re-hydration salts and laxative concocted to clear the bowels, called 'Moviprep', so I spent a quiet evening watching episodes of 'Bull' and 'NCIS' on the tablet, waiting for the inevitable, and it was half past midnight before I could relax into sleep. The worst part was having to get up at five this morning and repeat the one litre drinking feat with a second dose of 'Moviprep'. I didn't need to set the alarm as I usually wake at first light and then go back to sleep. By half past eight, I was thoroughly cleared out and ready for the trip to the Heath Hospital. We left early, anticipating heavy traffic but the roads were far quieter than usual as school holidays are now under way. 

I was welcomed and briefed by a delightful Iranian nurse, who said she'd lived in Britain 25 years and loved it here as much as she loved her homeland. She was obliged to fit me with a cannula just in case medication needed to be administered at short notice, but this required several attempts before she found a vein. I didn't want to be sedated and didn't think I'd need an analgaesic, so it wasn't used. As ever my blood pressure was high and this time set off the alarm, not surprising since the procedure obliged me to forego usual medication for forty eight hours beforehand. This I found a bit odd, but nobody made a fuss about it.  Then I had to shed my clothes and don operating theatre garb. The young consultant surgeon was surprisingly cheery and outgoing for a Monday morning. He introduced me to his multi-national theatre support team and answered my few preliminary questions before starting the procedure.

I was pleased to be able to watch the progress of the probe on a hi-def colour screen right in front of me, and found it fascinating to see my insides at close quarters. Such beautiful organic tunnel structures, with forms reminiscent of Gaudi's Sagrada Familia and other adventurous pieces of modern architecture. It wasn't terribly uncomfortable, despite the air being pumped through my innards to open the way for the probe. So I was able to relax, and be thankful that it needed neither sedation not analgaesic. I experienced worse when my digestive tract was playing up. I heard them point out my appendix en passant and was told that the probe had gone a metre up into my intestine. Best of all was the consultant's declaration that I have a healthy normal bowel, just a polyp that's doesn't require action and is nothing to worry about.

After a rest, a chat with the post-op team and a cup of tea, I was free to leave, and could have gone home on the bus - strictly verboten if you've been sedated - but Clare came and picked me up, and drove me home to a very welcome lunchtime meal.

Naturally I was nervous about it, and fretted over following the correct preliminary instructions from the sheet provided, but once I was there and met the team, I felt relaxed and at ease in their capable hands. In a strange sort of way it was quite an enjoyable experience. And, the way is cleared for me to be on my way to Switzerland on Thursday.

Early Candlemass

I was asked if we could celebrate Candlemass early this Sunday, and it seemed a good idea ' Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace ... etc', as it's my last Sunday on this tour of duty. So we started with a simple blessing of candles, used the relevant readings, and concluded with 'Faithful Vigil Ended. It all fitted nicely. I could have done without the round of applause after Neil's words of thanks at the end. I'm just happy to be still working, able to travel and feel a bit useful sometimes.

Talking of travel, I had a Communion service to celebrate in Villars in the evening. I walked into Montreux gare in time to catch a train to Aigle which arrived twenty minutes before my connecting bus at five. I was glad of this as I needed time to find the bus stop. Now Aigle has a couple of narrow gauge lines running up into the mountains, side of the valley behind the town. One goes to Leysin and the other to Les Diablerets. This is run by Transports Publiques du Chablais, so these trains and the buses have their own special grass green livery, and platforms on the town side of the main line. 

There's an hourly TPC bus service which climbs up through Ollon to Villars at 1,300m on a road which I drove a couple of times back in the summer, and was glad not to have to in either direction today, given the amount of ski resort traffic. There were plenty of skiers coming off the bus and a few laden with luggage going up to stay. There was a relaxed and cheery mood among the mostly young people coming and going at the bus stop.

The surrounding snow capped mountain peak looked exquisite while the sun was setting during the ascent, and I got some fairly decent photos from inside the bus, whenever I could avoid reflections from the bus interior. This changed continuously with the light changing each time we went through a hairpin bend. At the hamlet of Gryon, Guy got on the bus carrying the Jack Russel terrier he takes everywhere with him in a rucksack. The dog is at ease with this. It's safer on mountain roads where it's impractical to keep him on a lead. Guy's a congregational worship leader in Villars, and works in Aiglon College. He's a renowned butterfly expert in this part of the world. It was good to meet him again.

There were ten of us for the service, and afterwards, by pre-arrangement Guy took me through the darkened streets of the village to visit a couple made housebound when one of them broke a limb just after arriving for their winter break from the UK before Christmas. Given the bus timetable it couldn't be a long visit, but the essential purpose was to take them Holy Communion. I was glad to do this, even though time was short and we had to walk very briskly to the bus stop afterwards to be sure not to get left behind, otherwise it would be another hour before the last bus of the day, and near zero temperatures to wait around in.

Arriving half an hour later in Aigle, I was on a train for Montreux within a few minutes. Inevitably there were skiers going home,  but also a number of young soldiers, smartly dressed in uniform. I'm not sure if they were heading back to barracks after a weekend at home, or heading home after a weekend of training. Conscription is still the norm in Switzerland, and once basic training is finished there may be options for completing the two years required. Also conscripts get called back for a refresher course every so often, and I believe that can happen into middle age, unless you have some kind of exemption. 

The non stop train takes just eleven minutes to get to Montreux, and I was able to take a bus back to Territet, as the aller-retour ticket issued to me was actually a multi-zone carte journalière that works out at the same price if not slightly cheaper, especially with my demi-tarif fare card for the month. It's certainly saved money for the church and for me. I could have used it more, but in a place as pleasant to stay as this, you don't always fancy going far. Still, a last outing tomorrow, for pleasure not duty, before getting down to bag packing and cleaning up.

After supper, I watched another episode of McMafia, which I still find slow moving, and not entirely convincing. There's a lot of conversation in Russian with subtitles. To me the actors seem impassive if not wooden, with their different Slavonic manner of self-presentation. I always feel as if I am about to lose interest in the storyline. Interestingly enough critical opinion is divided. The Telegraph's Michael Hogan is fulsome with praise. The New Statesman's Rachel Cooke has some sharp comments to make: "McMafia’s slick tedium is born of the fact the series has no heart" and  ".. as a drama the feeling persists that the actors and director are trying to pass an electric current through a jelly." Slick tedium. I like that.

Indoor Sunday

Another rainy day here, with two dozen people for the Sunday Eucharist. Afterwards I spoke with the elder sister of a teenager who's started singing in the choir. They're from Bulgaria. The lad is still in school, but his sister who's been here longer, has run her own restaurant in Montreux, and is now setting up a new business to import niche market food and drink products from back home, aware of the growing interest in traditional hand crafted products in Western Europe. It's good to meet a young entrepreneur in tune with contemporary interests.

After a leisurely lunch and siesta I was ready to go out for a stroll, but rain persisted, so I stayed in did some writing, and listened to a BBC local radio webcast in which the release of Kath and Anto's new Sonrisa album 'From Today' was mentioned and a track from it played for the first time. Clare has been in Kenilworth looking after Rhiannon this weekend and she returned home with the album CD. I greatly look forward to hearing this when I return in ten days time, as the track broadcasted was a beautiful piece of music. craftsmanship. It makes me very proud.

I watched another episode of McMafia, summarised in a quote I read somewhere as 'English toffs and the Russian underworld'. Oh really? Well maybe. I can't quite suspend disbelief, although I can accept how complex is the web of international financial trading within which criminal enterprises hide, and how it's possible to snoop on people, know just where they are in this interconnected world, and do nasty things to them. But surely this applies to crime fighters as well as criminals. Can crooks really do bad things, so often with impunity? Is it true that law enforcement world wide is so under-funded that it's unable to keep track, so their adversaries are always one jump ahead?

There was an interesting 'File on Four' radio programme this afternoon about criminal organisations which issue fake university degree certificates, to people who want to buy professional qualification credentials they think will do them some good in the job market. As if this isn't lucrative enough, perpetrators turn to extortion and blackmail of clients, threatening to expose them to authorities and cost them their jobs and maybe residence permits unless they pay extra. 

It makes use of thousands of websites, and uses VOIP telephone contact with enquirers which can spoof caller i/d, and ensure the real life location of the scammers is very hard for non-experts to trace. It's just like the people who ring up and tell you they're from TalkTalk, troubleshooting your compromised internet router, using real phone numbers gleaned from a hack of the company subscriber database a couple of years back. These new technologies are very capable, but have made crime and deception possible on a mass scale, and internationally, in a way few thought possible at the turn of the 21st century.

News from abroad

I was delighted to welcome my friend Valdo here this morning. He'd come ready to go out a walk, but we had another wet and windy day that made the prospect unattractive, so we stayed in and we talked, drank tea and ate together for seven straight hours - church, politics, computing, and since his retirement, he's acquired a taste for bird watching, and avian photography with his new Lumix TZ DMC 101 camera. It was great to share enthusiasms again, especially as he is learning how to identify all the different aquatic birds that live or overwinter on or around the lake. He let me take a copy of a multi lingual glossary of lake bird species, an invaluable asset for talking with others out in the field, if the occasion arises. We're hoping the weather will pick up again next week and allow us to take a walk together. That would be a great delight.

Finally, a week after it was posted by Clare, a packet of Mistletoe herb tea arrive in the mailbox. It's something I've been trying out over the past month or so, to see if it has any impact on my blood pressure, which doesn't seem to be impacted by the standard regular medication I am compelled to take by my anxious doctors. Since I lost a stone in weight, I've felt generally fit and well, and my quality of life has improved, so long as I pace myself, prepare and rest well after intense activity. It is a bit of a mystery, but I don't see why I should impair my existence with unnecessary worry.

This evening, Rev Doreen, Curate of St George's Malaga phone to discuss plans she is developing for Confirmation preparation groups of adults and children, while I'm there on locum duty. Bishop David visits on Ascension Eve. It's a great opportunity to share in catechetical ministry, especially with adults. The group consists of Nigerian migrants, many of whom are from different church backgrounds and have never been confirmed, although the are regular attenders. For most of them their first language is Ibo, their second  is everyday Spanish and English is their third, and few of them are well educated. It's going to be a very special kind of challenge to work with them, and I'm looking forward to it immensely.

  

A special calling

There were two dozen of us for the Sunday Eucharist. We learned that Natalya, the homeless young woman who found us in church last Sunday is staying in a mountain holiday chalet, and likely to stay there a while, as she still cannot decide what she wants to do next or where she wants to go. It's still unclear what more can be done to help her, until she makes up her mind. Will a time of solitude free from pressure be fruitful? Or is she too accustomed to surviving in her own company for it to make a difference? It's hard to tell. At least she's in a safe place for now, and that's what matters.

After discussion with Clare and Church Warden Jane this morning, I've accepted an invitation to return here in August. We both love being here and would like to share time with Sister-in-Law Ann who had booked to come this time, but was too sick to travel, afflicted by the horrible 'flu that's killing people currently in Britain. I feel very much at ease ministering here. 

Although it's not as big and diverse a congregation as Geneva, it has many similar qualities of openness and diversity with several native Swiss English speakers among expats and visitors. It's a special place of welcome for people passing through very occasionally, or those who come and stay periodically, as well as residents. The church now seek a permanent chaplain, but cannot any longer afford a full time priest. I hope and pray that a person is found who can really value the qualities of this community and the special role it plays in the Christian witness to the people of this region, as well as to vastly greater numbers who pass through. Being a sign of stability and consistency in this changing world is a challenging vocation, at a time when many churches are made so vulnerable by ignorance, indifference and lack of support.

  

Territet night visitors

I must have been disturbed in my sleep last night, as I woke up just after one, and heard a sharp noise which sounded as if it came from somewhere in the house, something falling down perhaps? Hopefully, not an intruder. I got up and looked around, and returned to bed. A few moments later and I heard the sound of a noisy diesel engine being fired up, not the sound of a car or a lorry, but a generator, right beneath the window, Then it became noticeably lighter outside. I parted the curtains and was amazed to see an array of fire engines outside, bathed in emergency floodlights! 

There were three support vehicles and two tenders parked in the area around the nearest bus stop, and the Avenue de la Riviera, the main road was closed off by parked fire service vehicles. About a dozen firefighters in full kit were at work unpacking and setting up equipment, and by the looks of it, setting up a Fire Command Centre. There was, however, no sight or smell of fire. The roads were dry, so no floods to contend with. I wondered about the possibility of a scaffolding collapse at the old Hotel des Alpes Theatre Ballroom under restoration nearby, or a fire within, but there was no activity over in that direction. So, I concluded this activity was a night time rehearsal for dealing with a major incident, or else a training session on the deployment of new equipment at night.

Having taken a few photos I returned to bed. After half an hour or so the pompiers packed up quietly and left, the generator powering down last, leaving only street lights and the silence of a winter's night, punctuated by the occasional passing goods train.