Anniversary free gift

I'm used to waking up and getting back to sleep several times in the night, but was taken by surprise this morning, waking up at twenty to ten, after ten hours in bed, and eight and a half hours' actual sleep if my fitbit is to be believed (not sure I do). Clare decided to come with me to St Luke's instead of St Catherine's as it's our 57th wedding anniversary today, the Feast of the Transfiguration. It'll be sixty years since we first met, this October. 

We went by car to church. It's something I rarely do unless travelling between two services, or going across to St German's. When I arrived, Kath the organist was having problems selecting hymns, as she hadn't realised today is not an ordinary Sunday after Trinity. As I was leafing through the hymn book looking for a topical one which wasn't included, heaven knows why, Fr Colin appeared. It seems he'd been asked to celebrate today some time ago, although my name was on the last amended rota I received. Last Sunday there wasn't a priest, as Fr Rhys is on holiday so it's possible there was a mix-up in organising replacements.  Ah well, never mind. I was happy to sit in the congregation with Clare instead, and really appreciated a Transfiguration sermon not written by me. Only one of the usual six singers in the choir, with Fr Colin we were twelve.

We went straight home afterwards and Clare cooked a delicious anniversary lunch - salmon with a parsley sauce, roasted slices of round courgette coated with mustard and honey, plus roasted potatoes and steamed runner beans fresh from the garden. A real summer feast! She's also been industrious, cooking a big batch of apples and straining the liquor to make apple and ginger jelly, four jars worth.

Later, we went for a circuit of Llandaff Fields together, then I went for another circuit of the park to reach my daily exercise goal. I'm through the worst of this streaming nose episode now, but I'm still coughing up a lot of phlegm. Thank heavens there's no infection or soreness. It's most unpleasant as it is, and being out in the fresh air helps. 

I finished watching 'Seizure' before supper. A potentially interesting story-line confused by the traumatic flashbacks of its two guilt stricken protagonists, overuse of aquatic imagery to portray them overwhelmed by their feelings, and an essay on the demonic and sin from an anthropology expert whose contribution was made in French. Another layer of obscurity, adding to the overall length of a story which could have been told in three quarters of its length. Disappointing. 

After supper it was time for the BBC Proms with a performance of Rachmaninov's second piano concerto on Radio 3 for me and Prokofiev's third piano concerto on telly performed by Isata Kanneh Mason, for Clare. Then we watched highlights on S4C from the Welsh National Eisteddfod, being held this year at Boduan on the Llyn Peninsula. Marvellous to be able to watch if you can't actually be there. 

The kids sent us anniversary greetings on WhatsApp, and I had a phone call with Rachel as well. A Sunday free from leading worship was unexpected, but nevertheless an appreciated gift. 

Participants not consumers

Two services this Morning. I left for St Peter's at ten past nine, and found myself in an unexpected queue of traffic at the Penhill lights, which were out of action. replaced by temporary ones. There were queues in each direction, and changes in lights seemed much longer than usual. Across the junction were a couple of police vehicles and a car, whose back end was mounted on the pavement and wheels were sticking out into the carriageway. It was hard to imagine how it ended up like that but was clearly out of control before it stopped. This scenario robbed me of five minutes, but I arrived in time, deprived of a leisurely start.

There were forty six communicants, over fifty adults and twenty children altogether in church, a lively and healthy parish congregation. I hastened to St Luke's after the service, and again had to park four hundred yards from the church, arriving just in time at five to eleven. Thankfully, I only had to preach, as Fr Rhys was celebrating. The organist was away and we were only thirteen in church. 

Ministry Area congregations are still reacting to the unexpected announcement of Mthr Frances' departure, and St Luke's people are worried about how to face an uncertain future with decisions awaiting about a future that would involve a permanent church sharing arrangement. Without a regular parish priest of their own, numbers have dwindled to an unsustainable. Having even a small group of clergy taking services on rotation hasn't worked for them, few people are willing to volunteer to take on new tasks. The absence of a church warden to represent the interests of the congregation has undermined confidence. Abolition of this elected role under reforms and restructuring initiated by the previous Bishop has been catastrophic.

In two weeks time Bishop Mary is visiting St Luke's for Sunday Mass, and remaining members will have an opportunity to be heard, and understood. What is missed most it seems is the lack of pastoral care and continuity, apart from emergencies, as clergy are too busy managing the Ministry Area and maintaining communication with the congregations (mostly digital) from which some older people feel excluded in any case. We've had a lesson in not trusting Cloud communications this week, with the routine newsletter for Canton churches unable to be issued to a failure in the accessing Microsoft Sway on-line publication account, whose product is regularly issued on a Thursday or Friday. There's no printed equivalent. Several hours preparatory work for delivery down the drain. 

It's difficult to get by these days without use of social media of one kind or another, as we've become so dependent upon them, but how much good is it doing us as a society or as church? Just saying - this week's notices are available on-line or been sent to your email address - is not much good if you don't get around to picking it up and reading it in your own time. Reading out the notice at the end of a service is a direct and social connection to church affairs while you're still in the group to which the information is relevant. It may stimulate a response and action, which can get lost if a churchgoer is distracted by other mundane matters after church. In a church congregation we're still participants, not consumers, but this truth seems to have escaped those who have fostered strategy so dependent on digital media, in which you can get away with messaging and not talking to each other.

Anyway, it so happens that I have a free Sunday when Bishop Mary visits, so I have volunteered to take the service at St Catherine's in order to free Fr Rhys to go from St John's to St Luke's for the whole service instead of arriving late from St Catherine's. It's a long time since I took a Sunday service there, and there's no need for me to show up at St Luke's. As a retired cleric and pensioner I'm a beneficiary of the Church in Wales, and have no say in how it's run. Sooner or later I'll get to meet the new Bishop, but there's no urgency to do so.

After listening to people over coffee when the service was over, I got home at the same time as I would when driving home from St German's. After lunch it rained. Fran came around and joined with Clare in an on-line study session. There was nothing for me to do but wait until the sun broke through again, so I dozed in the chair for about two hours before going out for a walk.

I can still handle preaching twice and taking a couple of services in a morning if needs be, but I'm noticing these days how tired I am afterwards. I need to rest before doing anything else. Another sign of ageing no doubt, along with not being able to work under pressure, and feeling stressed by tight deadlines. I'm fine as long as I have time to prepare, time to deliver, and time to enjoy what I'm doing, so that life feels worthwhile.

I listened to 'The Archers' while I was out walking, and ate supper on my own when I got back as Clare had eaten earlier. Then a quiet evening reflecting and reading, then finally packing a case for our Oxwich Bay holiday trip tomorrow before turning in for the night.

Improvised Asencion Day fiesta

Awake early, posting today's YouTube Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp  at seven, although I didn't get up until gone eight. After breakfast I paid the latest water rates bill which arrived a few days ago, on hearing a discussion on the BBC Radio Four Today programme about the alarming extent of sewage polluted rivers and the plan to upgrade sewage network infrastructure. It was interesting to see how much our bill was reduced by my three month sojourn in Spain.

Then, I went to Tesco's to shop for this week's Foodbank donation and took it to St John's to celebrate the first Eucharist of this almost sunny Ascension Day. There were eleven of us, with Fr Huw and Beryl from St Peter's Fairwater, plus Clive, Stephen and Hilary from St Catherine's joining the five regulars, as services in their churches can't be offered today. Good to see a few people willing to cross former Parish boundaries to celebrate one of the church's great festivals together.

Before having lunch I prepared the service for tomorrow's funeral. While I was doing this, a call came in from the cardiology team offering me an appointment tomorrow afternoon for a cardiology scan, as there had been a cancellation. Amazing luck! The report will be sent to pre-op for assessment, and on that basis I will be inserted into the operation queue. When that will happen is anyone's guess. I just hope the call doesn't come while we're booked to be away. Maybe I'll be able to feed the surgeon's secretary my unavailability dates.

I had a snooze in the chair after lunch, then went out and did the week's grocery shopping in the Coop, and had an early supper. I needed to be on my way to St Luke's by six thirty to celebrate the evening's Eucharist. I was there just before seven and thankfully I had my church keys with me, and could open up and start getting things ready for the service. I had prepared my sermon, but nothing else. It was to be a sung Eucharist, but I had no idea if the choir or organist had been recruited for the occasion.

Father Chris turned up so I asked him to read the Gospel, then a succession of lay people from Caerau, St Catherine's, Glanely as well as St Luke's. Father Jesse arrived. I asked him to read the Gospel, and then Archbishop Rowan. I asked him to give the chalice. When the service started we were altogether twenty two people. I had envisaged a third of that number turning up. It was rather special to have people from four of seven churches in the Ministry Area worshipping together at the same time. 

I decided when preparing to celebrate not to use nave or chancel altars. A handful of people in a space designed for two hundred is a quite a demoralising experience, so I arranged the service to happen in the Lady Chapel, which accommodates about fifteen. The fact that we were full to overflowing was a real blessing. We sang hymns, and some parts of the service unaccompanied, and it was a lovely experience, outside everyone's expectations. With such diminished numbers, we need different ways of celebrating together to uplift us. Somehow at the last minute it came together, with seven different people taking an active role. I felt exhilarated to be part of it.

Four of us went to the Victoria Park pub nearby afterwards to celebrate the Ascension socially, and chat for an hour before parting company. I walked home feeling grateful to have had the opportunity to take the lead on such a special feast day in the church's year. And so to bed.

Movie inspiration

I woke early and dozed off again, but for longer than usual, so it was half past eight when I got up, and had to rush breakfast and leave for St Peter's Fairwater  for the nine thirty Eucharist. It meant that I didn't have enough time to say Morning Prayer before starting the day. It was overcast and drizzling when I left and stayed like that until mid-afternoon. With the children there was a congregation of about forty. One of the youngsters assisted me as an altar server. He's still new to the job so it was more a case of me helping him rather than him helping me! Not that I mind, it's lovely that without their own regular pastor, people in the congregation are encouraging involvement in the service by children.

I didn't have time to socialise as I had to get to St Luke's and preach again while Fr Rhys presided at Mass. The traffic was awful and I made it to the church with just five minutes to spare. There was a meeting of the congregation afterwards to discuss which key points of action could be agreed upon to report next week at a meeting with Archdeacon Rod Green about the future of the church. There's a proposition on the table from a church planting group of evangelicals to share the church to develop ministry to young adults with families in the area. 

There's a measure of uncertainty and reserve about embracing this prospect, even if it could be to the financial benefit of the Parish congregation. St Luke's has an inclusive liberal Anglo-Catholic tradition, and the concern from some is that its 'offer' could be compromised by sharing with a more conservative set of values. It's good that some are thinking about this seriously. St Luke's was once a showcase for liberal Catholic culture and values, and at one time knew about how to evangelize. But, it has lost its way when it comes to propagating the ideals of what it stands for. An ageing congregation has run out of energy and not yet figured out how to continue to attract a new generation of seekers. Without its own priestly leadership, people are reluctant to commit themselves for as long as they have the energy to do anything at all. Lay leadership and initiative is capable of great things but changing the existing culture is painfully difficult.

I got home for lunch just before my usual time, but Clare had just started eating lunch as she thought I'd be back much later than usual. I'd mentioned that next weekend after Mass at St German's there's a Coronation cake and a glass of bubbly to be shared to toast the health of King Charles III, and she got the timing wrong, but never mind, we did get to eat together, just.

After lunch, while she was having a siesta, I recorded and edited this week's Thursday Morning Prayer. It had stopped raining by then, so I went for a walk in the park for a couple of hours. Then I returned, I settled down to watch the last four episodes of 'Non me lasciare' which, with a break for supper, took the rest of the evening. I found the whole production quite impressive, with an unexpectedly redemptive end to it, above and beyond the arresting of the baddies and breaking of the paedophile ring. The last of the rescued kidnap victims with no family of his own finds a welcome into the home of the lead investigator who lost her teenage son in a freak accident. I like the way it's presented in an understated way. 

I also liked the emphasis on trust in lasting friendship, and innovative teamwork between a group of experts who aren't for once, prima donnas in their field, bonded together by a strong sense of purpose. The lead investigators knew what they needed to know and could express this clearly enough for others to pursue from their expert angles what was needed for progress in the case. Everyone respected for what they could contribute. 

It's not competition for success, but co-operation for a common goal that matters to all that makes the future possible for us, so it's good to see this modelled in a story that has to find out many things before it can begin to solve the difficult challenge it faces. I don't think we're quite there yet with the St Luke's congregation in terms of teamwork. Confidence in each other's gifts and abilities still needs to be developed.

Busy Ash Wednesday

A beautiful day with sunshine, clear sky, no wind, and the temperature hovering around 20C. I rose early and sang a birthday greeting to Rhiannon on WhatsApp before getting up for breakfast. It turns out that it's also Mother Frances' birthday, and that of Craig, one of St Andrew's 'swallows' who has served me at the altar since I found out he's from the Black Country Anglo-Catholic Parish of Kingswinford, not far from Halesowen where I was Team Rector in the eighties.

Then I walked to St Andrews to celebrate the Eucharist of the day. Father William joined me, assisting at the altar and reading the Gospel. There were twenty one of us. The first Lenten bible study was scheduled for a time after people got their coffee and cake, and caught up with their friends. I distributed all the study sheets Caroline had photocopied for me, but only two people were able to stay on to discuss Psalm 51 with me. Nevertheless, it was a lively and interesting discussion for three quarters of an hour. 

I wonder if a Wednesday morning is really the best time for this, or if there is a viable alternative time. Maybe people are actually happier with reading the study material for themselves, especially as my weekly homily serves as an introduction to the session. We'll see how it develops from here.

I  was late cooking and eating lunch when I returned, but still had some time to work on Sunday's sermon before driving up to Alhaurin for the second service of the day at six, for which there were eleven of us. We sat on benches arranged in a semi-circle in front of the altar. It works nicely for a small number of people. The microphone that's needed when there's a much larger congregation had to be disconnected as the connecting cable's insulation had fractured, leaving the device intermittently making a loud distracting buzz. Just as well we didn't need it.

The sun had just set as I drove down the switchback of a mountain highway back to Fuengirola on a forty minute slow journey, not just thanks to speed limits but my own caution. I had forgotten quite what a steep and winding road this is. It will take several more trips up and down the mountain. Alhaurin el Grande is a thousand feet above sea level. By the time you reach Mijas Golf course on the maritime plain, to follow the rio Fuengirola to the coast, your ears are popping. I was quite tired when I reached the house, just in time for the Archers and supper, and needed a half hour's walk afterwards to stretch my legs and clear my head. 

Ashley called as I was setting out and we chatted as I strolled. Then I called Clare and found she was still chatting with people at St Luke's where she'd gone for the evening Eucharist. We talked again later when she got home, and I heard reports of the current discussion about the desirability of welcoming a church planting expert to establish a base at St Luke's to work on fresh initiatives in ministry to young people. Evidently there are fears there will be a takeover of the building that will lead to a complete loss of its Catholic Anglican heritage, much as happened to St Teilo's under Bishop June. I feel confident Mother Emma is capable of negotiating a compromise agreement and sticking to it, as long as Bishop Mary is equally clear about supporting this. 

St Luke's has a century of Anglo Catholic urban missionary history behind it, but is much depleted and won't be able to pay its way much longer. During the pandemic the building was shared with one of Cardiff's two Romanian Orthodox congregations. This no longer happens, but it showed what's possible with a modicum of good-will on all sides. I wonder what kind of research has been done to establish  there's a need and an opportunity to be taken in this part the city. 

Evangelical outreach initiatives can and do attract people to form an eclectic congregation. As St Luke's did in its heyday. The Victoria Park area isn't the easiest place for parking at the best of times even if it is well served by buses. At least St Teilo's is well placed in a largely student area, across the railway tracks from the University Campus. Can the same be said to exist in Canton as it rapidly gentrifies? It's true there's a growing number of first time home buyers and young families in the vicinity, which the church needs to reach out to in order to secure its future. This is a moving target however, as turnover in jobs and the housing market don't necessary result in longer term commitment to this local church. It's a big and risky decision, for the host community and for those behind the initiative under discussion.

Going out in style

I woke up to news this morning of a thousand deaths from an earthquake in Afghanistan,, and there are thousands more left not only bereaved but homeless. Humanitarian aid is already on the way, and efforts are being made to find a way to release the country's assets held by international banks, frozen since the elected government was ousted by the Taliban. An agreement may be possible to transfer government funds in frozen accounts directly to humanitarian agencies. Let's hope so. There have been more calls for Boris Johnson to resign following the loss of two seats in by-elections this week. He's in Rwanda for a Commonwealth heads of state conference with Prince Charles, flatly refusing to yield. Shameless as ever.

I walked to St Luke's for this morning's funeral. About a hundred people attended, and the coffin of the deceased arrived in style in a an old fashioned hearse drawn by two jet black horses with pink plumes on their heads. As the coffin was processed in, a harpist played welcoming music, a church co-worker led the congregational singing of two hymns, both friends of the lady acting as next of kin. She read a lesson, as did her son. She delivered a superb eulogy friend witnessing to the faith they shared. 

The music played for the departure procession was Abba's 'Dancing Queen'. As soon as it started there were smiles, and many of the congregation began to move with the music, including me. I think that's the first time I've moved to the music in a funeral procession. At one moment I thought the bearers were going to catch up on me, and I had to had to do a double step to keep my distance. I was given a lift to Western Cemetery in a car. The return ride was in the back of the extra hearse that accompanied the horse drawn one to carry flowers rather than cram them all in the smaller horse drawn one. One of the drivers told me that the empty hearse travelling ahead of the horse drawn one also drew attention of other motorists to the coming cortege, a prudent message to avoid careless motorists spooking the horses.

I got home just in time for lunch. There was a call while I was out with an urgent request to celebrate the Eucharist at St Michael's Whitchurch Road on Sunday, as both Caroline and Meg, the priests there have gone down with covid. I won't have to prepare a sermon as one of the Parish readers is preaching. It will be the first time I've been there since I retired n 2010. St Michael's was one of the churches under my care in the Central Cardiff Team Ministry, though it normally had a priest of its own, and I'd go there on rotation a few times each quarter. Caroline's husband Glyn briefed me and wondered if covid had reached them through the church congregation. So much for returning to sharing the chalice.

Sarah, a neighbour living across the street asked for help to wipe an old computer so it could go to a specialised charity for re-homing old devices. It was Dell desktop machine, ten years old, running Windows 7, quite sprightly for its age, but then it wasn't connected to the internet, which in my experience tends to slow things down a bit, as the device is always checking, calling servers linked to programs in use, 

Sarah's MS Office 365 sub had run out, and she wanted to know if she could get by without it. I pointed her to the OneDrive web app version, which seems to be useable without payment. I suspect some of its more sophisticated features are missing, but it's OK to use for basic tasks. She has a new laptop that she's getting used to, and hadn't yet logged into her existing OneDrive account, so that it would sync with her laptop. I was able to help her with this. She was still a little puzzled by the device which had updated to Windows 11 and changed the look of the user interface. It seemed to be running a bit slow for a two year old machine with a solid state hard drive and eight gigs or RAM, and Ryzen chipset, just like mine. I learned that the house internet connection wasn't all that fast. It really shows, and affects the performance of an otherwise spritely device.

I  was left tired by the morning's ministrations, and found I needed a sleep again after lunch to freshen me up before a walk in the park. After supper I watched the first episode in a second series of 'Coroner', a Canadian production. Then the first in a new series called 'Rig 45 - Murder at Sea' a whodunnit on a North Sea oil rig, and Anglo-Norwegian production. In both cases, dialogue was mumbled and hard to follow, even with the sound turned up extra loud. It's a recipe for boredom if the storyline isn't that easy to follow.

Good News amidst the grief

I didn't get up this morning until gone nine, after a broken night's sleep, so I had a slow start to the day. Clare was at her study group in Penarth this morning. She left me with a shopping list for the weekly visit to the Co-op for groceries so I did this before cooking lunch. 

While waiting for her to return, I phoned the person acting as next of kin for arrangements to make for next Friday's funeral at St Luke's. I learned that the woman who died had been, in effect, abandoned by her family to life in the old Ely Hospital, where people with a range of long term physical and mental disabilities were looked after before 'care in the community' dispersed them to sheltered accommodation units with carers. 

The lady I was speaking to had been a volunteer at Ely hospital before it closed and formed a close bond with the deceased, so much so that she took her into her own family and fostered her, an experience which changed the course of both lives. From incarceration in hospital subdued by drugs, to a place of her own and semi-independent living over the course of some, nourished by a sense of belonging to a family that had chosen to have her as one of their own. 

This experience led to her family fostering others during the years, and for her, a new career in counselling and disability advocacy. As a member of City Church, the Pentecostal congregation next to the old Westgate pub in town, she wants the funeral to be held close to where the deceased lived, and said she wants it to be a positive occasion of witness to neighbours and friends she made in the vicinity. A resurrection story, the way I heard it. She spoke with the warmth and affection of someone who really understands and lives the Gospel. I look forward to this service, aware that a couple of musicians from City Church want to contribute, and the lady herself wants to give the eulogy.

I went for a walk around Llandaff Fields mid-afternoon, returned for tea, uploaded photos taken in the past few days, prepared supper and ate alone, listening to the Archers, as Clare had gone to a meditation group. Then I went for another walk in Thompson's Park, and when I got back, Clare was eating supper, listening to the Archers on catch-up.

My sister June rang to tell me to watch a Sky Arts documentary about 2019 Portrait Artist of the year Duncan Shoosmith painting Sir Tom Jones for the National Museum of Wales portrait gallery. It's a very fine painting, though I've yet to see it in situ - somehow I missed it on my visit last month, I must go in there again and find out exactly where the painting is currently.

Then the second episode of 'Sherwood', with more surprises, and realistic authentic pit village dialogue from a community divided by its response the the miners' strike. It's getting excellent reviews in the press, well deserved.

Jazz on Sunday

When I woke up the morning, catarrh congestion was particularly unpleasant, and in a fit of coughing my nose started to bleed, and continued to do so far about quarter of an hour. Then, strangely it stopped as a fresh load of phlegm descended from my sinuses into my nostril. My voice was rough and I wondered if it'd be able to get through the Mass at St Luke's audibly. Fortunately my throat wasn't sore and as long as I projected my voice without forcing it, I got through, even singing the priest's parts. I could have just said them and nobody would have minded, but I thought I'd give it a try, and succeeded, with a fair dose of sympathy from the congregation of fifteen.

I wasn't as organised as I needed to be for the service. Although the communion vessels had been laid out, the banns book, the Gospel book and the missal weren't in their proper place and needed to be hunted for. It's just as well I remembered to call the banns at the end of the service, although I then had to ask for someone to hunt down the book to read the names from. Each church needs someone paying attention to all details of preparation, and not rely on the celebrant to piece it all together, especially as the officiating clergy can vary from week to week. Of the three Canton churches, only St Catherine's has someone who is trained for this task. It's definitely the best organised of the three as well as the best attended.

When I got home, Clare was ready and we drove over to St German's for their Jubilee buffet lunch, or should I say banquet? Loads of different salads, salmon, Coronation chicken - the original 1953 recipe - with strawberries and cream plus a glass of prosecco. Father Stewart wasn't there as he had a christening to do, so I was asked to say the grace, although I was just one of four clergy among the two dozen who sat down to eat together. It's nice to be asked though. Father Roy turned up late as he's had to spend the morning searching for one of his dogs which had gone missing. All's well that ends well and he arrived with both half way through the meal, to cheers.

We walked together for an hour in Llandaff Fields when we got back. Four four cricket matches were going on at the same time, one of the on the newly refurbished astro turf pitch. In April, it was cordoned off with a big 'do not use' sign painted on the carpet, badly damaged at the crease on one end due to the zealous activities of fast bowlers I suspect. It's very pleasing to see it back in use after only two months out of action. An all weather wicket in an area that retains excess moisture for longer is an asset to those wanting to practice out of season. 

The other good news is that planning permission is being solicited to build a cricket pavilion at one end of the tennis courts which has been used to store cricket pitch covers and screens in recent years. It's a facility much needed, given the huge enthusiasm for cricket among our Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi citizens, greatly amplifying the voice of Welsh devotees of the game. I suspect the higher profile of the Sophia Gardens cricket ground in recent years has awakened both confidence and demand for the game. 

I walked for another spell on my own taking photos in Thompson's park before supper. Clare had been told of a Jazz session at Chapter Arts Centre on the second Sunday of the month, and wanted to go and check it out, so I went with her. It turns out there's a resident band called 'Chapter Four' - keyboard, alto sax, acoustic bass and drums, and they play swing jazz in the style of the fifties and sixties. We weren't disappointed. They were very good. 

A tight, high octane performance by middle aged guys who clearly know and love their music, an hour and a quarter's live music, sheer pleasure. We'll be back next month, a couple of days before I leave for Spain, and then again in September, hopefully. It's a free ticketless event. The group play in a corner of the big bar restaurant, which can be noisy when full, but tonight wasn't even half full. The instruments were amplified, but not too loud, they didn't need to be, and importantly they were perfectly balanced for an audience gathered in this corner of a huge high ceiling room, so you could hear each player well. Now that makes a change!

Home by ten, and getting ready for be by eleven.

Equinox Sunday

Another beautiful blue sky sunny day for the Spring Equinox. More daylight than darkness for the next six months. Perhaps it's the impact of the cataracts that has made this winter taxing on my morale. Well, we'll see what difference the operation makes in two weeks time. 

I walked to St Luke's to celebrate the Eucharist after breakfast. There were fourteen of us, nearly half of the regular congregation was missing, including the thurifer and the intercessor. The organist was meant to be reading and didn't arrive until the last minute which caused a minor panic. I had to hunt for the relevant liturgy books as they'd been put away. As I'm not at Saint Luke's very often I didn't know where they were kept, but by the end of the first hymn, everything was under control.

There was a young man in the congregation who told me afterwards that it was his first time to attend a  service years, after dropping out of a church on the other side of the city. He said he found it moving and powerful. The friend who brought him arrived with a bag of superb sticky buns to share from Alex Gooch the artisanal baker in Pontcanna Mews. It was unfortunate that the lady meant to serve coffee after Mass wasn't there - self isolating I think. But it was a very nice surprise anyway!

After lunch, I sat down to relax and do my daily Spanish drill, and when I finished, fell asleep for two and three quarter hours, although I had been in bed eight hours and didn't feel particularly tired. What I notice however, is that I felt quite relaxed after my siesta and enjoyed my late afternoon walk in the Spring sunshine. A heron was on watch close to the bank near the weir, fishing for eels  in the shallows. 

Twice I heard a splash mid-river further down, but could see nobody within stone throwing range, was this the sound of salmon jumping, making its way up into the Beacons to spawn? The time is right, so I believe. 

Nothing much of interest on telly tonight, so I started watching 'All the sins', a  Finnish crimmie set in a rural region dominated by a puritanical Lutheran sect I'd never heard of before, portraying the impact its behaviour has on the wider society it is a part of.

UN observers are saying that the war in Ukraine has displaced a quarter of the population, ten million people from their homes. Three and a half million have fled the country, and there's no sign of Russia curbing its murderous onslaught on Ukrainian cities. President Zelensky has called on Israel to consider its 'neutral' position in relation to the conflict. As a Jew he has the moral authority to talk to him about the genocide of Ukrainian people and culture. Israel has a convenient understanding with Russia about not hindering the Israeli pursuit of Hezbollah insurgents in Syria, which has  resulted in Israel refraining from judgement about the invasion of Ukraine. I wonder what Isaiah or Jeremiah would make of this?

No more lies

A really long sleep, and then a brisk breakfast to be ready to walk over to St Luke's to preach, while Fr Rhys celebrated. For the first time since the pandemic took hold he were officially allowed to sing hymns again - behind our masks. There were sixteen of us in a church that can holy two hundred and fifty. I think it will wake a while to get back into the habit of singing heartily. I had some favourable comments about my rather sober reflective sermon afterwards. It's difficult to know how to be a sort of spiritual cheerleader when the world is in such a mess. How to be appropriately penitential in thought, word and deed is what we must now learn.

When we returned yesterday Clare picked a pound of blackcurrants from the plants in her garden, enough for a couple of dishes of blackcurrant and apple crumble, one of my most favourite dishes. After salmon and roast veggies for lunch we had a first serving of what is to my mind one of the tastiest of all puddings. Normally I don't bother at all with pudding, but blackcurrant and apple crumble I find irresistible!

I walked for over an hour in the park after lunch, surprised at how few people were out compared to the usual Sunday afternoon. It was cloudy, mild and a little windy - were people staying indoors to watch a football match? Or gone to the beach, I wonder?

After the weekend's exposure of health secretary Matt Hancock, caught on camera kissing one of his aides behind locked doors, spied upon by a secret camera, he has announced his resignation and the end of his marriage in one statement. But not before Boris Johnston had refused to sack him and insisted this was of no importance to the job in hand. He totally misjudged the growing mood of indignation from the public and from some fellow Tory MPs openly calling on Hancock to resign. Naturally an enquiry is now taking place to discover not only who put the camera there, but how the security video footage was leaked to the news media. As if the affair of Dominic Cummings breaking lockdown rules wasn't enough to expose the belief of the ruling elite that they are exceptions to the the rules they make. The Prime Minister's error of judgement undermines the credibility of his government. How long will he last after this?

When I got back from my walk, there was a Radio Four investigative programme called 'File on Four' which reported on an exchange of emails involving Cummings and Hancock around the time the first UK lock-down was imposed, in which a piece of work was commissioned from a health statistics company to monitor pandemic data independently of work already being carried out by another quasi NHS body that is working on digitzing NHS services. The exchange of emails concerned a sum of half a million pounds in advance of work to be commissioned immediately (because of the crisis) without any scrutiny process in place about the objectives or outcome of the work or its value for money. 

Moreover, this was to happen secretly without proper government consultation and presented as a fait accompli, justified by the urgency of the situation. The scandal of undermining good governance is augmented by the fact that there seem to be a certain conflict of interest due to the relationships between the service providers and Hancock. It will be interesting to see how this plays out in the news this coming week. Already the government has come in for serious criticism about irresponsible and erroneous expenditure in the procurement of PPE in the first critical months of the pandemic. 

As a weekend op-ed in the Guardian stated today, lies, deceit and false promises which resulted in the success of the brexit vote laid a foundation for the perpetuation of this culture in the ensuing years. Not only does it undermine the credibility of the government, but in removing the possibility of honest discourse on issues which require thorough and well informed debate, it undermines the whole democratic process. I can only hope and pray that citizens generally will awaken to this disturbing nature of this damaging reality and start demanding a return to more honourable and honest ways in public service.

This evening I watched the first episode of a French psychological thriller on More Four Walter Presents, in between phone calls with Owain and Rachel. This one's set in Corsica, and the French is clear and very easy to follow, which makes for easy watching, as the sub-titles are less than essential.

Trinity Double Act

I woke early to a bright warm sunny day, due to wound discomfort and pain, which isn't going away any time soon. It's taken time for the impact of the final surgical repair stage of the process to reveal itself, and I just have to get used to the various workarounds, to remain comfortable. Clare dressed the wound afresh after breakfast, and then we walked to St Luke's where I was scheduled to celebrate the Eucharist with Archbishop Rowan preaching. 

The fact that we were both on the rota seems to be have overlooked and some people looked a little puzzled if not put out to have two clergy serving them. I joked about us doing a double act to relieve the hint of awkwardness. After a year of a church regime under covid people are less accustomed to coping with change. Over the past couple of months there have been changes a-plenty. Rowan preached beautifully. I made the most of the opportunity to thank God through offering the Eucharist for bringing me through the past two years and delivering me at last from the scourge of the Seton's suture, even if I am still paying the price for it post-operation.

After a light lunch, Kath arrived looking fit and beautiful, after a year in which she's worked incredibly hard to continue with creative projects in a most remarkable way. We walked down to the Taff, and this left me drained and tired and I had to got to bed before and after supper, like it or not. I need to redefine my limits for while, or else suffer unnecessarily. I did manage later in the evening to prepare for this Thursday's recording of Morning Prayer and a reflection on Corpus Christi. Sometimes ideas come when you're idling. 

Time zone snafu

It's still cold, but at least it's been sunny and dry today, something for which I was especially grateful as I had a trip to Western Cemetery for a burial after driving to St Luke's to take this morning's funeral, very much a local affair. One of the funeral directors' men and the cemetery worker supervising grave digging had been contemporaries with the deceased in secondary school. Unusually, the family decided to organise their own live stream of the service for one of their members in prison. Covid safety measures would not allow an inmate to attend in the company of a prison guard, (something I've witnessed occasionally over the years), but the authorities were willing to arrange an exclusive live video link from church to be arranged. Credit is due to the prison governor for agreeing to this.

I returned home just before two o'clock for my Safeguardng training session on Zoom, only to find that the session had been running already for an hour in Central European time. When I was contacted about the session I explained that there was a slight risk of traffic delay which might make me late, but that I did expect to be back by two. I don't know if the person I was in contact with arranging this was in London, where the Euro-diocesan Safeguarding team is based, or in Brussels. I said I was in Cardiff and would be back by two, but this had evidently not registered, otherwise I wouldn't have been booked in for the session, allowing someone else to take my place. 

It was rather embarrassing, as I got a brief impression that the session was for serving chaplains not locums, whose experience of working in a chaplaincy isn't quite the same. If the Zoom was organised on behalf of the London office by someone in Brussels for people in the dioceses, this was just a simple communications error, neither of us picked up on. But, I'm now wondering if the fact of my being a locum in the UK was taken into account at all. Ah well, I have let the organiser know of the mistake. That's all I can do for the moment.

As this gave me a couple of free hours in the afternoon, I walked into the city centre and enjoyed being out in the streets and shopping centre along with lots of other people, out looking for bargains on the first day all shops are open again for the first time since Christmas Eve. I went to the Camera Centre to investigate a possible lens purchase for my little Olympus, and because I thought of it bought a clamp to use to attach my mobile phone to a tripod while making a video. Because of its shape it's called a 'dog'. Clare was quite bewildered when I told her I'd bought a dog for ten quid! 

I went into John Lewis' store which has also reopened and has huge stocks of discounted goods, especially tempting tech bargains. The top floor is like an Aladdin's cave of red ticket items. Possibly goods from some of the JLP stores nationally that have closed recently have been shipped to stores remaining open. Much temptation. I did buy a box of three cordless phones. Ours are ancient and their batteries are dying. Clare says they are the wrong sort, a health risk. I don't really know what this means. Why would they be on sale if they were?

Our Passover

Another blue sky sunny day, but rather chilly, good for brisk walking. It turned out to be quite a busy day with three bereavement calls to make for funerals next week. I had to finish preparing the texts for this week's Morning Prayer, and set up the recording environment in the attic, but I didn't get around to doing any recording. It's still rather a trial and error process getting it right and required more time than I had to spare, what with a trip to the shops, then Owain arriving late afternoon, and a walk to St Luke's for the Easter Vigil as the sun was setting. I filmed the Easter Light ceremony and uploaded to YouTube so it could be seen by others who didn't make it.

Without the benefit of a choir, the Vigil was more muted and low key than services on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, but it was mostly the same group of people worshipping together as it had been through the week, and that made it special. 

When I was chatting with Fr Benedict outside the church after the service, a youngish passer-by with an Ulster accent stopped and made some critical remarks about Anglicanism, saying it had sold out to liberalism, and deviated from the faith by ordaining women etc etc. He exhorted us to return to the one true Catholic church in order to be sure of salvation. It was very odd. He said he didn't attend church or receive Communion, although he claimed to follow the true faith. "He belongs to the church of fruit-cake I think" said Benedict when the guy took his leave of us. 

Was he just a crazy? Or perhaps someone who was self catechized through internet browsing? it occurred to me later. I've had the occasional interrogation from people who notice the cross I wear. They have strong beliefs and opinions and are keen to convince. It's never a real dialogue however. They always know they are right. Well, me too. 

How good to come home and share a few glasses of wine and a natter with Owain before turning in for the night.

Unexpected consequences

A bright sunny day and for me a fruitful morning as I wrote the final two Easter week reflections before lunch. Then I walked into town, in the hope of finding a store open where I could buy some new socks, as almost all those in my drawer have holes in them. I was delighted to find Marks and Spencer open to sell clothes, so I was able to buy just what I needed. 

I walked back through Bute Park, where scores of different species of trees are now in full blossom - its a glorious sight. I was astonished at the large number of young people out in groups of two to a dozen, chatting, picnicking, or just reading quietly in the sun. I'd guess around two thousand spread across all three open areas. I think they were mostly Uni students. Term may just about be ended now, but there are still restrictions on non essential travel so British students won't be able to go home to family yet.

There have been no covid related deaths now for several days and the infection rate is low, but caution is still being exercised over the resumption of normal activity. It's still a matter of the country feeling its way, measuring the impact of every relaxation, which I think is sensible, if painful to bear with. But at least, outdoor socialising is possible with better weather and lifting restrictions. 

The Inspectorate of Constabulary enquiry into the handling of the Clapham Common demonstration has exonerated Police action, seeing it as consistent with their obligation to enforce public safety legislation. Politicians came in for criticism about the lack of clarity and changes in legislation which Police were called to enforce, as this made this more difficult. Seeing the whole picture from many angles, the enquiry considered that the majority of demonstrators were seen to behave responsibly, and it was a small number of people whose conduct put others at risk, prompting the need for arrests, exploited on social media. The report highlighted weakness in police operational communications when the situation changed rapidly and went off-plan. Ultimately, a few big egos ruined the event for everyone else, just as I thought. 

Again this evening I walked to St Luke's for the Eucharist, attended by sixteen of us once more. The streets are quiet after dark except where fast food takeaways are open, but there are no queues, very few customers. I wonder how they survive economically. It's the same in the city centre by day too, shoppers are few and far between, some pubs and restaurants are in the throes of refurbishment. How they afford to do this after a year with only a fraction of normal trading is a mystery to me.

Requiem for a priest

I don't know where this morning went, it seemed to slip by un-noticed, although I did succeed in writing a fourth Resurrection reflection for Easter Week before lunch, and printing off some copies of the order of service for this afternoon's funeral. Before driving up to Thornhill, I took a quick walk to Tesco's to get some orange blossom honey for Clare and a couple of bottles of wine for Easter weekend, as Owain is coming over to join us.

This was the first funeral of a fellow priest I have ever done. The deceased's daughter brought along his Bible and Book of Common Prayer to place on his coffin, and I added my ordination stole as well, as she had given all of her father's liturgical robes to the village church in Leicestershire where he lived until he was unable to look after himself, and moved into a Penylan care home. We processed the coffin into the Briwnant Chapel head first to load on to the bier, as is customary for a priest. 

The chapel attendant appreciated the reason for this and promised he would see that the coffin also went into the cremator head first as well, out of respect for a priest's office. Nice to know someone still understands tradition. I had to explain it to the four mourners present, as they were unaware. The service was webcasted for the benefit of another daughter and her family, living in the USA. I should have left the explanation until the start of the service for her benefit really, but maybe one sister will explain this to another later on. One of three poems requested for the service was Rev Eli Jenkins' Prayer from Dylan Thomas' 'Under Milk Wood'. I couldn't help reading it as if I was playing the part on-stage, with a slight old parson's quiver in my voice. This raised a smile and a titter. It's a lovely piece with a quality that's  quite distinct from a liturgical prayer, and deserves the right treatment in my opinion.

Driving home I learned from the five o'clock news of the re-floating of the giant container ship stuck for nearly a week in the Suez canal causing a backlog of three hundred ships wanting to sail through. What lessons will be learned from this major disruption to the flow of global trade I wonder?

An early supper and then a walk to St Luke's for the Eucharist of the day. We were sixteen in church, six of us clergy. The altar on its platform has been moved back to the chancel step from the centre of the nave, to suit the Romanian Orthodox congregation that has been meeting there recently. Chairs for forty are arrayed in a huge well spaced arc facing east. To my mind this is more pleasing and easier on the eye to focus on the altar when you can see the east window beyond the chancel. Necessity has been the mother of invention in the fact of the pandemic. I hope the church council will be reluctant to revert to the previous arrangement once normality resumes.

I walked back, but as I was a few kilometres short of my daily goal, I walked on into the park and did a semi-circuit of Llandaff Fields in the dark. I thought I heared an owl in the distance, maybe in the woods by the river. The night air was mild and still, the sky clear with not many stars and planets visible. Sadly there's too much light pollution in the green heart of the city. Nevertheless, it was lovely.

Before turning in, I started preparing the second funeral service I have this week, on Thursday, in the light of the eulogy and I received from the daughter of the deceased. I wanted to get ahead with this, as I need to track down an osteo treatment for my neck and shoulder which are nagging for attention. Though not very painful, I need to work much of the time on keeping the shoulder moving so that I doesn't seize up. Mother Francis is currently having far worse trouble with an acute case of frozen shoulder. Just at the very busiest and most demanding time of the year. This kind of aliment is very much a product of far too much time spent on digital devices these days. I think we've become dangerously dependent on them.

Job done

After breakfast and prayer time this morning, I went down to St John's to meet with Fran and Mark to shoot the basic video clips for their icon presentation. We weren't there long when we learned that tree surgeons, delayed from last week, were soon arriving to start work on trimming the trees surrounding the island of green grass on which the church stands in St John's Crescent. Oops! Unforeseen diary clash. 

Churchwarden David arranged for us to collect St Luke's keys from the Rectory, so we left St John's to drive there, dropping off the St John's keys with Eileen the caretaker on our way there. As I got out of the car, I could hear the bell of St Catherine's being tolled by Clive to signify the end of the one minute silence for covid victims, on this lock-down anniversary. Our project had so absorbed us that we didn't notice time passing until then. So, a quick arrow prayer, and then on to St Luke's to continue the job.

Mark was delighted with the resonant acoustics of St Luke's, and we quickly settled on a good setting in the nave to shoot the video, and managed to do it in one complete editable take. The hour in St John's wasn't wasted, as it gave us a chance to run through the structure and ideas about set-up which gave us a head start in a different space. We finished in an hour and I was back for a late lunch of mussels (again!) by one fifteen.

Mark and Fran are good company and I think we worked well together, but I felt strange about being out of the house, doing something different, enjoying socially distanced, masked conversations about the creative process we'd embarked upon, and spending time with people who weren't family members for the first time in six months. I've gotten used to being a hermit of sorts, and for this needed to come right out of myself, and then focus intently on getting the camera to do my bidding. I took three cameras plus spare batteries and SD cards with me, but only used the HX90. I took my Linux laptop along, so I could transfer the video files from the camera to a blank SD card for Fran to take home and give to her son who will be editing the footage under mum's directorial eye, no doubt.

After lunch, I feel asleep for an hour on the sofa, and then went for a walk along the Taff. The river is now very low, as we've had little rain for the past week, and muddy footpaths are no longer treacherously slippery. I met colleagues Peter and Jan walking their dogs in Pontcanna Fields, and learned that ex-Area Dean Mike John is leaving Pentyrch for a part time job as Priest in Charge of Llancarfan. The other part of his job will be managing the diocesan 1Family project, looking after the resettlement of a refugee family from Syria, and all that entails. He did this before as Area Dean, and found that he loved it. How imaginative of the Bishop to innovate in this way. Bravo, both of them!

This evening there was a Zoom Q&A interview with Archbishop Rowan, arranged for the Christian Evidence Society, an august, venerable body public engaged in Christian apologetic discourse for over a century and a half. His theme was Christian spirituality and understanding of God. I didn't see all of it, but what I saw was very good. I had to work on providing documents for Owain for a conveyancing solicitor to authenticate the gift we're making to enable him to make a deposit on an apartment so he can get a mortgage. It's all terribly inquisitive these days on account of money laundering regulations. You have to prove who you are and that you have the right to give your own money away. It's a measure of the climate of distrust which prevails in today's world.  

Windy Sunday

After saying Morning prayer, I listened to Sunday Worship on Radio Four led by the Rector of Saint James' Piccadilly, Lucy Winkett. For the Church of England this was the first Sunday in four months that it was possible for public worship to take place in church. This is not possible in Wales yet, but churches will be open for prayer for a few hours on a couple of days this week, which is a start. 

I'd expected the radio service to be a Celebration of the Eucharist but it was something quite different and unusual, an extended reflection on spirituality and music. I imagine it would have taken much time to prepare and record and was probably was planned before it was announced officially that English public worship would recommence. It was very good anyway. 

After breakfast, I watched the Canton Benefice on-line Eucharist with Clare, the first time I have done so since my return and the end of two weeks quarantine. This obligatory exercise for travellers returning from abroad is soon to end, due to pressure from holiday and travel industries. Much doubt was expressed about the value of the exercise by the epidemiological experts, but the Home Secretary ignored this, making it clear that where this government is concerned yet again science plays second fiddle to chaotic, ill thought out policy and political expediency.

It didn't rain today, but a strong blustery wind drove the ambient temperature down below fifteen. The sun shone through the clouds when I went out, giving the impression in our sheltered side street that it was warmer than it turned out to be. I got as far as Cafe Castan and then had to return home and put on warmer clothes as the wind was chilling me to the bone. And this is July!

I went out again and walked in the opposite direction to Victoria Park, visited St Luke's to take some more photos of the shrine established in the entrance porch with an image of the evangelist labelled St Luke the Healer, decorated with a NHS logo on his chest. I did this a couple of days ago and was disappointed to find that the photos I took were poor quality as the camera lens had partly fogged up without me noticing. There were lots of young families out in Victoria Park, plus dog walkers, but few sat around on the grass as it was too cold in the wind.

After lunch and a siesta, another walk in the wind around Llandaff Fields. Amazing to see scores of crows on the grass, grounded by the high winds and squawking at each other, as if complaining about flying conditions. With nothing better to do in the evening, Clare and I watched a Maigret detective story, beautifully crafted, starring Rowan Atkinson, one I'd seen before unfortunately.

Perennial scanner

At Fr Phelim's request, I drove over to St German's this morning to celebrate the term time 'Class Mass' with two dozen children from Tredegarville School. It's still an enjoyable experience for me, working with Junior School kids, so I'm always pleased if I'm asked to stand in for him. It was good to catch up with the regulars over a coffee at the day centre afterwards. Apparently the winter night shelter in the hall has been successfully run for a second year with a big group of volunteers, not all of them church people, helping to accommodate and feed fifteen rough sleepers regularly.

After lunch I took my second funeral of the week, this time at St Luke's. The eulogy was given by a niece of the deceased and a daughter in law read a lesson. I don't recall taking a funeral there before, so I had to figure out beforehand where to place myself in relation to the congregation and the coffin. It's a big church with a central altar. Fortunately everyone in a congregation of fifty sat in the same central block of seats, so I conducted the service from behind the altar, as the lectern was too far back.

In the evening there was nothing on telly, so I got out my film scanner, as I have a bag full of wallets containing film negatives, and picked out one at random from 2000, just before I bought my first digital camera, when I was working in Monaco. The scanner won't work with any PC save my 2009 Windows Vista desktop machine. This still boots up, although its CMOS battery is kaput and there's no point in going on line because none of the browsers are fit for purpose. But it still runs the scan software, Adobe Photoshop and MS Office perfectly and with an acceptable turn of speed once it's settled down. An always online Windows device isn't always what you need to get jobs done. I will run it until it dies, and then look for a replacement of similar vintage to plug the gap.

Anyway I now have a set of seventy plus photos from the time when we first settled in Monte Carlo,  and of our top floor apartment in rue Montbrillant Geneva, close to the Place des Nations. There may be more to find and scan eventually.

  

A Parish day of Christian initiation

Bishop June came to preside and confirm at this morning's United Parish Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were nine candidates altogether from our Benefice and from the Parish of Cathays, several of whom I knew who came in support of candidates, still fully active there, twenty years on from when the parish was created  at the break up of the Benefice of Central Cardiff. Once the Sunday school children and teachers arrived at the offertory, the church was just over half full, about 150 adults and children.There were seven clergy present, notably five women and two men, plus our male ordinand. It's typical of the times we're living in. Decades ago Confirmation would have been a standing room only occasion in Parish life. These days, standing room only events seem confined to large funerals of folk who die tragic deaths.

I began to get a bit fidgety towards the end of the service, as I was conscious of my time deadline fast approaching to walk to St Luke's an conduct the infant baptism I prepared for last month. It had been arranged however that church warden Beryl would there to open up and get everything ready. As it happened, she was also at the service, and gave me a lift, so we were both there by ten past twelve with time to spare.

We had an unusual congregation, as both husband and wife each had several siblings married with young children. There were three dozen adults in church and amazingly, fifteen under-fives, including several babes in arms. The kids seemed happy to potter around and enjoy the space, or sit with their parents and watch, all remarkably well behaved, and maybe used to being in church, for a change. I thoroughly enjoyed this celebration. I told the congregation about the Parish Confirmation earlier, and encouraged those who hadn't had their kids baptized to consider it. 

Unusually, most of the service leaflets, which usually get collected in afterwards, weren't discarded but taken away. Beryl wasn't bothered about this, as she thought some of them were looking a bit dog-eared. A few times, I nearly came adrift, as the printed text I was reading from was rather small and not clearly enough laid out in a decent font to make for easy reading while standing up.

After everyone left and things were tidied up, I walked home under overcast skies in the drizzle. Glad it's like this today. It would have made yesterday's lovely fete a sadder an less profitable occasion. A record sum of over £3,500 was made, thanks to hard graft and good Parish teamwork 

Emergency stand-in

After breakfast this morning I had an email from Emma, asking if I could celebrate Mass at St Luke's and then do a baptism at St Catherine's. She'd spent six hours in the night with one year old Ned in A&E at the Heath - a worrying painful rash following tonsillitis a few days ago, and no idea what it was. Poor boy was inconsolable and clinging to his mother. I was pleased that I was free to be asked, and had an hour and a half to get a sermon together, and walk over to St Luke's in good time, since Clare had the car in Dinas Powis. 

The challenge would be getting back to St Catherine's, meeting the baptismal party and getting things ready for 12.30 start. I learned that Clare was returning for the St Catherine's Eucharist, and arranged with her to pick me up by car and ferry me over. Thankfully it all worked perfectly.

There were only three dozen communicants at St Luke's in a church that holds two hundred. People stand around the walls of the nave to receive Communion, which sort of works when there's a large number, but doesn't feel right with so few. Instead of gathering for Communion, if feels as if people are scattering. Changing liturgical habit is notoriously hard however, as I recall from my first Curacy,  in Caerphilly. We had a tin tabernacle mission church that held fifty. It usually hosted 6-8 people. They'd all sit in the same places as they had since childhood, scattered about the church, resentful if they were begged to move. St James' Tredegarville was like that too, until circumstances forced a move for the 12-15 congregation into the choir stalls, once the nave was set up for other purposes. Neither church was sustainable, neither survived despite the best pastoral care offered to them.

There were about forty in the congregation at St Catherine's for the baptism of a one year old boy, who was wide awake, alert, following everything with big wondrous eyes. At the baptism rite, when I had given the customary blessing with arms extended, the child waved his arms in the air like wings, perhaps imitating my gesture. Everyone was charmed and laughed fondly. A delightful conclusion to an unexpectedly active morning. 

I expected to feel drained of energy after lunch, as I have on previous occasions, and surprised that I wasn't. Last Wednesday's acupuncture session seems to have done me a power of good. Martin and Chris invited us to lunch, as Chris' parents are visiting from Canada. I was good to see them again both looking well and enjoying a change of scene. Martin is Newport Mayor's Chaplain this year and getting to know some of local councillors. Another guest was Kate, a Ward Councillor, and very much a kindred spirit. As ever, the food was amazing and I had to be careful to resist over-eating, as I certainly suffer for it if I do these days.