Welcome appointments

Another dull routine day of mild damp weather, with spells of rain while walking walks before lunch. The cloud layer was thin enough for the sun to shine through bright enough to make the hedgerows glisten with raindrops. Enchanting. 

Just before I went out, I had a phone call from our GP practice mid morning giving us both vaccination appointments for this Friday morning at the Cardiff City Football Stadium. I'm so pleased it happened this way hearing the familiar voice of one of the receptionists, rather than the voice of someone at a call centre somewhere else. Ours is a big practice working out of cramped outdated premises, but they're so good at organising routine checks and winter 'flu jabs and giving telephone consultations when there's no need or too long to wait for a visit to the surgery. .

Talking of telephone appointments, I had a letter booking me for a chat with surgeon Mrs Cornish in the post this morning in mid March. That's a result of me writing to her ten days ago after a few painful days when the suture's free end stuck into me several times, and I didn't know what to do.. It's not happened again recently, as I discovered that I could avoid this happening by changing the way I dress the wound. I wonder if she's reviewed the MRI scan yet? I don't imagine I'll get the suture removal op for several months more in the present state of crisis, but I'm less worried now. I know I can live with it, confident that slowly, small improvements in the wound condition are happening.

I watched a few episodes of the second series of 'The Mallorca Files' in the evening. It's as disappointing as the first series was. An interesting idea expat detectives in a beautiful stylish exotic location, spoiled by poor acting and garbled dialogue. Many Mallorcans will be English speakers, but to have them all speaking English with Spanish accents, and never a subtitle in sight is like rolling the clock back to post war B movies. Some of the plots don't quite hang together, unless it's a case of shoddy editing leaving plot connections half inferred rather than joined up. The island's scenic beauty offers a great dramatic platform, but it could be so much better. It's meant to be entertaining, but ends up being irritating, but that is not unusual. 

I've noticed how many archaeology, history and science programmes take basically interesting reportage and flog it to death by telling the story in a way that involves far too many repeats. What aims to be 'dramatic reveal' ends up making interesting facts boring. It's not so much dumbing down as dulling down. It's reflected in many newspaper articles I read, even in 'posh' papers, so badly edited that almost all of the informative opening few paragraphs of a report are repeated later in the same article, Articles and telly programmes could all be shorter if time was spent editing them properly to deliver a coherent not a tedious message. 

Jacket rescued

I finally spent time yesterday finishing off writing a letter to Mrs Cornish the surgeon expressing concern about my wound, which is behaving now as it did before the third operation, a consequence of over-granulated tissue. It can only get worse with a three month wait until the next op. It may not be life threatening but it is making my life and the family's life a misery. Although it goes against the grain, I've made up my mind to pay for her to do it at The Spire private hospital in Pontprennau to cut the delay, if there's no alternative path in the NHS. She may be unwilling nor have the time to do it in the next few weeks but I can only ask.

The arrival of the 'season of goodwill' with its inevitable round of charitable appeals prompts me into making gifts to several causes I have supported over the years, whose work is broad and stable enough to need non-targeted donations to support the work. Christian Aid, the Bible Society and USPG which I used to work for in the 1980s, and a couple of others I commit to.

It's a lot easier now each has a user friendly on-line donation platform that in former times when it was a matter of mailing a cheque. But no mater how simple, it's still a question of remembering to do it. I avoid as far as possible signing up for email news as this inevitably leads to lots of appeal messages on top of newsletters clogging up the inbox throughout the year, and I don't have time or patience to read through them all. One emailed newsletter I do enjoy receiving however is from Ty Mawr Convent. Sr Katharine SSC, The new Reverend Mother sends out a monthly one to Associates like me, reflecting of the season and its spiritual significance. She writes beautifully. Even so, I end up reading several at a time, as they can arrive when  can't give them the attention they merit.  

A couple of Saturdays ago Clare took me into town and insisted on buying me a new winter jacket, as my weight loss over the past year means that my current one is embarrassingly loose on me. We tried a couple of shops without satisfaction, and ended up returning to Slater's Menswear, where we found a generously cut Harris Tweed one which was suitable. While we were paying, I noticed the shop has a tailor's workroom attached behind, and asked if they could possibly alter my old jacket. Bring it in and let's see, was the response. Several days later I took the old jacket in and was inspected wearing it my an experienced member of staff, who inserted some pins along the sides and said that it was just about within the limits of what would be possible, as it would involve quite a size reduction!

I walked into town in the afternoon to collect the altered jacket and was delighted to find that it fitted nicely, so now I have a second lighter weight jacket which will find use in spring and autumn. When I asked how much the alteration would cost I was told, much to my surprise, that it was free of charge! It was indeed one of Slater's own branded products rather than a third party garment, and their own carry a lifetime's free alterations service. I hadn't realised this, and was much impressed. I shall return there every time I need new clothes in future.

This morning I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's celebrated by Fr Colin Wilcox, the other retired priest living in the parish. Afterwards he led us in discussion over coffee on today's Advent devotion reading from a booklet using texts from Henri Nouwen, we're all encouraged to use this month. It was a worthwhile exercise for the half dozen or so regulars who attend, I think.

After lunch, I had another rethink about my letter to Mrs Cornish, and posted a re-edited version when I went out to collect the weekly veggie bag. As the sun was going down I walked around the Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields. The air was crisp, the sky cloudless and blue. The sunset was utterly magnificent, and I got some great photos.

I watched a couple of episodes of 'The Mallorca Files' on iPlayer in the evening, a lightweight and improbable detective fiction series about island crime, investigated by an unlikely pair of working expat cops. It's more entertainment than it is drama with a message, yet another series in which gorgeously filmed landscape co-stars in the series, showcasing the place as a tourist destination, quite apart from the beaches and nightlife. Not a patch on Inspector Montalbano.