Impromptu lunch

After breakfast I drove to St German's for the school 'class Mass', standing in for Fr Stewart, summoned to a meeting with the Bishop. Clare was preparing to welcome her Tuesday study group as I left. I celebrated the feast of Candlemass with the children, and we sang a few songs. One teacher attending expressed her appreciation for the chance to sing as singing is still thought to be too risky for gathering in school. After the service I drank coffee and chatted with Angela, Hilary and Peter, whiling away the time until Clare's group left. 

Clare invited Fran and Mark to an impromptu lunch, so I improvised a veggie pasta dish for the four of us, while Clare tidied up and laid the table. Thankfully the sauce turned out just right, and also was just the right amount for four. Then we went for a walk in the park before parting company, and I kept walking for another hour to complete my daily quota.

Much to my bewilderment, my lost sock from two days ago turned up on the shoe stand in the hall. When I returned from walking on Sunday afternoon, I must have taken the stray sock, stuffed in an inside pocket and put it on the rack while I took the other one off, but the act was completely automatic and immediately forgotten, like when you lock the door on auto-pilot and need to go back and check because the memory of doing so didn't register as your mind was on other things already. As it write about the day almost every day, I have noticed that I can usually recall everything I have done but not necessarily in order. Sometimes I wake up remembering something I didn't add the night before - like this sock episode!

After supper, I returned to scanning negatives of family photos taken in the nineties, a whole roll of James shortly after his birth, at a family gathering, and half a dozen of Owain's eighteenth birthday. Yet another pleasant trip down memory lane.

The Class Mass resumes

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soul vitamins

Out of the house just after nine this morning, driving in heavy traffic to reach St German's in good time for the 'Class Mass', which Fr Phelim asked me to celebrate again today, while he and a group of parishioners are on pilgrimage in Rome. Since I came last, the liturgical set up has changed, with the chancel and high altar being used instead of the nave. There is enough room in the choir stalls to take thirty children and over a dozen adults, and it's a superb acoustic space for singing in, and for speaking without need for microphones. The kids responded well, sang well and it was easy to be more relaxed, as it took less effort to engage them in a space more enclosed than the vastness of the nave. It also gives the children an opportunity to see the marvellous gothic reredos and the huge Victorian stained glass window above it. I thoroughly enjoyed doing this. It was like a rejuvenating tonic. Soul vitamins, let's call it.

I've been celebrating this particular weekday service occasionally and sometimes regularly over the past seven years, since I first started helping out Fr Roy before he retired. This is the first time I can recall ever using the chancel, although I remember once using the Lady Chapel next to it with a full class of kids crammed into it. Why didn't this ever get tried before? Force of habit in using the portable nave altar? Some old taboo about not using the High Altar except on Sundays? This week Churchwarden Peter, who usually prepares for this service, and assists is in Rome with Fr Phelim, so was this a necessary fall-back arrangement, or has Fr Phelim introduced this since I was here three weeks ago? I look forward to finding out when he gets back.

When I arrived home after the service, our bathroom was a hive of activity. Yesterday, a new toilet seat bidet arrived, ordered by Clare on Monday, and she'd engaged a recommended plumber to come and install it. It's a simple design, the most basic in fact. Cold and hot water, no electrical electrical heating or remote control. As little as possible to go wrong. This will make a difference in managing my present condition, but also to both of us in the long term. We're delighted with it.

I called the administrator of the surgical team, and was told that the head colorectal surgeon on my case was not doing clinics during December or operations, because of teaching assignments. She promised, however to draw his attention to my concerns during the day, and get him to look at the scan images, which she knew would be on their record system already, then report back, end of  the working day. At ten to five, she called again and said that he had delegated reviewing my scan to a colleague, but that the team was still obliged to wait for the arrival of the radiologist's report before, deciding on any action. The letter I wrote and sent to the head surgeon first class post yesterday has yet to be received. It can take days to get from the mail room to the appropriate medical secretary, apparently. So this was not going to inform the present process. 

She did however say that I could ask my GP to refer me in extremis to the surgical assessment unit, as there is someone who's always on-call. The implication is that you have to be permanently in pain or otherwise disabled by a change in your condition to get examined. Will it be necessary to have a stroke or a heart attack or a life threatening hidden secondary infection to get seen? Living for any length of time with a chronic condition takes its toll on the immune system too, even in someone relatively fit and healthy to start with. 

Not dealing with this early enough could be much more time consuming and costly to deal with in the long run. I mentioned the possibility of seeking surgery privately, and the administrator didn't sound encouraging, any more than the practice nurse was. So many people speak of the private option as drastically cutting wait times, and being able to obtain MRI scan results on a much shorter timescale. It this true? Or marketing hype? I don't know what to think, but it looks like enquiries are becoming necessary now. Even if my GP pressed for an early surgical assessment of my case, there's no guarantee his request would fit within the criteria laid down for this by medical management. As sister in law Ann says, it's like something from a Kafka novel.

Late this evening, Channel Five screened an archaeological documentary on a mapping project at Port Royal in Jamaica, exploring the remains of the seventeenth century town, much of which sank beneath the sea in a matter of a few hours, due to an earthquake, followed by a colossal landslip and a couple of tsunami waves in succession. The port and its town was constructed on massive sand bar in Kingston Bay and this was destabilised completely when the earthquake effectively turned what seemed to be solid ground into quicksand. Port Royal has become better known in our time as the setting for the beginning of the film 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. It was once known as the wickedest city in the world for this reason.

The reason the documentary seized my attention was because I stayed in Port Royal at the Police College, the weekend I arrived in Jamaica in early 1982 on a study tour of schools funded by a grant from the Commission for Racial Equality. Norman Manley International Airport is not far away, and I was met on arrival by a brother in law of the Curate of St Agnes Bristol, who at that time was in charge of the Police College, and given hospitality for the weekend at the start of my six week tour of the island. In the programme, I recognised a few features of the location, but best of all, it showed St Peter's Parish Church Port Royal, and its Spanish silverware Communion Plate, stolen by Captain Morgan and presented to the Parish in 1662. I used this when I celebrated the 1662 Communion service in that church on my first Sunday, pondering on the ethics of using plundered plate.

Amazing to look back. I must find the journal I wrote during that trip and transcribe it, to remind me of all the places I went. Even in those days of film, I took over three hundred photos during the trip.
  

Class Mass and a Llandaff fiesta

Fr Phelim asked me to celebrate the St German's 'class Mass' this morning, and I was delighted to be free to stand in for him. Apart from doing a funeral there in July, it's a year since I was last here for this service, and sat in the congregation. Storytelling with a class of kids in church and singing with them was always a favourite with me when I was working and on retirement locum duties. I was so warmly welcomed back by the regulars in church and the day centre. The highlight of the service was a child losing one of her milk teeth during my address. Everything stopped for the first aid kit to come out and a spare plaster wrapping found to slip the tooth into for safe keeping. Delightful! 

As this is St Dyfrig's feast day, I looked at Wikipedia in advance to fill in my knowledge gaps in his story. It seems he was born in a village near Hereford, and was a enthusiastic young theologian of the fifth century, who taught Illtud and Samson, and founded monastic places of learning, including one at Llandaff where his bones lie, since the building of the Cathedral in the 12th century. He was named Archbishop of Llandaff by St German of Auxerre during his visit to Wales to teach against the Pelagian heresy popular it seems among Celts at that time. If I knew that before, I never properly took it in. It was one small curious semi-historical fact to share with the children.

Fr Mark has asked me to take on another funeral for him, a week tomorrow, and tomorrow's Mass at St John's. I'm glad to be active. I find coping with my condition much harder if there's nothing to distract me. Telly is not nearly as good as activity, social or physical.

Again this afternoon, I was feeling pretty tired, so I had a siesta and then sat in bed catching up on blog writing, with a HP laptop which runs Linux on a solid state drive I bought and installed a couple of weeks ago and forgot to mention at the time, as I haven't got around to using it until now. It's amazing quick, booting and opening Open Office ready for work in 30 seconds, on a seven year old device, which takes about three minutes to do the same under Windows 10. I have another laptop to convert, but being newer, it's trickier to open up and swap out the hard drive, plus it's a damned UEFI motherboard, which also make sit fiddlier to do.

At four twenty-five the house was plunged into darkness by a power outage which lasted until five to five. I posted a query about the extent of the outage on the local social media 'Next Door' website, as I still had an indoor phone signal at the back of the house on my Blackberry. Quickly half a dozen reports arrived stating that the area surrounding Cathedral Road, up Penhill, and East Canton had been hit. I don't remember when this last happened, perhaps once, since we've been living here.

There was only the burglar alarm to stop screaming and the cooker clock to reset. The router came on automatically, but internet connection and our internal mobile phone signal booster which relies on internet connectivity were both flaky for several hours afterwards, and strange to say they only settled down once we switched on the telly, which also relies on the broadband signal. Not that there was anything on worth watching tonight. Talking of which, our Talktalk broadband has been pitifully slow of late. Speed checks revealed that it's now a quarter of the up and down speeds we're paying for. Must chase this up, as it slows photo uploads to a very annoying extent.
  

  

Mission with relish at St German's

With no immediate duty assignments, I was free to visit St German's this morning and join in the Wednesday 'Class Mass', celebrated by Fr Phelim. It was lovely to be reunited with him and regular Wednesday worshippers for the first time since August. Next week he's taking twenty eight of them on a Parish trip to Rome, where he trained, and still has many friends. I imagine his personal guided tour will be great fun.

Instead of driving, I took the sixty-one bus, whose route has been extended across the city centre and into Splott while I'm away, which meant I was able to go as far as Tredegarville school and then walk the last 350 metres. The bus stops in the centre on Custom House Street, opposite to where the T9 airport shuttle leaves. Very convenient indeed, on both counts.

St German's Hall Day centre was as busy as ever, a new dishwasher had just been delivered, as the original one died. It's seen plenty of use, that's for sure. Back in the summer, there was a proposition to make use of the hall for a winter night shelter for the homeless next year, with typical enthusiasm the plan's been fast forwarded a year and £1,500 worth funding has been obtained for bedding and other necessities, starting just before Christmas. Cardiff Foodbank is pitching in with supplies. I'm so glad to see everyone so happily about their business, in mission as well as worship. If I wasn't fully committed to go Montreux, I know where I'd be spending time over New Year and January.

Ministry in the face of fear and anger

At breakfast aboard ship yesterday morning, a lady with a Mancunian accent told me about the bomb incident at Manchester Arena. It seems she'd been watching late night TV news in her cabin. We had not found a moment of idleness in which either of us wanted to watch TV  throughout the week, or listen to the radio, or scan internet news feeds, so we had no idea of what had happened. Sadly, she was quick to lay the blame at the door of 'them foreigners', and my 'what if the bomber was British?' speculation fell on deaf ears. Away from the ship, it was easier to follow the story from the phone, as signal reception in the Dreieckgebeit is strong, no matter the nationality of the service provider, which switches not infrequently as you travel around.

I woke up early this morning, aware that I'd be facing a class of children attending the midweek Mass I was due to celebrate at St Germans's. It was difficult to know how to prepare for this, especially as they could be any age group between seven and eleven, and there's no way of knowing how much the kids would have taken in at home, let alone in school. For once I wasn't looking forward to taking this service. Thankfully the morning's 'Thought for the Day' by Dr Michael Banner, offered me an insight I could work with, about kindness being essential to peacemaking. And I managed to use the story of Beauty and the Beast to illustrate how loving those we fear can change people. Well, I survived. And probably wittered on too long. As I do.

Fr Phelim arrived at the end of Mass, to meet the wardens and discuss his official arrival in the Parish as he finally has a licensing date, 14th June. It's to take place in the Cathedral, Both St German's and St Saviour's will be free to welcome him in their own way. The previous effort made by the diocese to unite these Parishes was a failure which damaged rather than develop relationships between them. There's no certainty every initiative in renewal or reform of the church for mission will succeed. But, there are unlimited possibilities to learn from failure and grow in wisdom and understanding as a result. Fr Phelim is commissioned to build bridges, re-establish trust and heal divisions, as a first step. I feel confident his background ministry experience, working in Belfast will be a blessing to all in the long run. I'll be praying for him and cheering him on from Malaga by then, thankful for the last couple of years I've be privileged to share at St German's.

    

Herons in view - again

A visit to St German's this morning to celebrate the Wednesday 'class Mass', with a bunch of 7-8 year olds, some of whom looked bored or half asleep, others of whom were bright eyed and placed to sing. I spoke a little about generosity towards the poor and needy, referring to the work of Islamic Relief as well as Christian Aid, as many of the children in this, as in all other classes of the school, are Muslim. Half the kids come up for a blessing, and some of these are Muslim. Other kids don't come up. None are forced to. 

It's not easy to make a simple liturgy in church fully participatory, especially when it's a Mass, which is by nature, overtly Christian. I have more misgivings about the potentially divisive nature of doing this than I did when I was the incumbent, regularly visiting the school. I was reluctant to go against established expectations then, and make an effort to create an act of God centred meditative worship in which all present might find something to identify with. Kids need to learn how to pray and how to participate in public worship in a non-alienating way. Now, I'm no longer in a position where I have any business experimenting with or changing the status quo, this avenue is no longer open to me. I do get the kids singing simple choruses each time, however. Sometimes they join in enthusiastically, other times it's hard work.

After lunch, I walked along the Taff to the city centre, to search for some clip-on polaroid sunglasses to go over my driving specs, and was delighted to find just the right thing in Boots. Clare had tried to find the same thing for herself in the same store recently and not been successful, perhaps because they were tucked away in an obscure corner of the sunspecs rack. I find my eyes don't work as well in high contrast lighting situations as I get older, they seem to struggle to adjust. Having special specs for driving and computer usage makes some difference, but not enough. I'm hoping a polaroid filter will cut some of the glare and reduce the strain somewhat. It's worth a try anyway.

Today, I seemed to have a bit more energy that recently, more of a spring in my step, so instead of getting the bus home, I walked back across Bute Park to Blackweir, where the resident heron was to be seen at the foot of the weir. I positioned myself about seven metres above on the footpath, and the bird just seemed indifferent to my presence, so I stayed for ten minutes or more, taking some of my best ever close-up heron photos with my Sony HX300. It took most of the evening to sort them out and upload them to a new album. Pleasing stuff indeed. Here's my album of bird shots so far this year. 

  

Ministry in-between times

I drove to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist this morning, once again having left it too late to walk there in time. There were nine of us present. I've noticed how numbers tail off somewhat through Lent and pick up again for Holy Week and Easter. What I believe happens is that warmer longer days encourage some people to travel more than they have over the winter months. Palm Sunday weekend in Wales, is like All Saints tide in Europe. People visit graves of family members, tidy them up and leave flowers. These days fewer folk live so close to places they grew up in or still have relatives in. It's all part of the changing pattern of life today.

During Lent, Bishop David has been giving special Lent talks on Mission and Ministry at churches in various parts of the diocese. I believe they have been well attended, and well received. I've been most fortunate to receive copies of his addresses after they've been delivered, and much enjoyed reading them, as opportunity arose. His style is conversational, anecdotal and poetic, using stories with great effect to put his core points across, and is often laced with humour and incisive wit. I can well imagine hearing his Yorkshire voice when reading his text and often find myself laughing aloud, and moved to reflect on his deep spiritual insight.

Sadly on Easter Day Bishop David's ministry in the diocese ends. He has devoted himself to being a teacher and pastor during the episcopal vacancy, providing a focus and support for the faithful while ruling himself out of being promoted as a candidate for the role of diocesan Bishop. He has certainly fulfilled his role with great integrity, dignity and humility. How hard it must be for him, especially when people love the way he ministers, and maybe say. "Why can't you be our new Bishop?" That's not easy to handle, as I know from personal experience when ministering as an interim priest abroad, as people appreciative of being 'properly' looked after are prone to say "Why can't you stay?" And that's because many have no idea how much it takes to work full time, and don't seem to realise that I'm past retirement age, older than I seem to be. John the Baptist's words "He must increase while I must decrease" often come to mind, whoever the incoming pastor might be, eventually. 

It seems possible that there'll be no announcement of an appointment before he leaves unless there's a surprise awaiting us all next week. Then Llandaff diocese will truly be 'like sheep without a shepherd'. In the absence of a new leader to set the tone, unite and inspire everyone, all the routines of church will will continue, but not much by way of innovation or change can happen, because of the top-down nature of church leadership which Anglicans doggedly cling to.

I cooked supper for us early, then drove over to St German's for the Stations of the Cross at seven. There were just four of us, but I still felt it was worthwhile, praying with Church Wardens Richard and Peter plus Peter's wife Hilary, bringing the future of the Parish to God in prayer. Earlier in the day the whole of Tredegarville School had been in church for a special Passiontide/Easter celebration of Mass, at which Fr Phelim presided, at my suggestion, so that he could be introduced to the children, while I covered the usual Thursday service back in Canton Benefice. We're still awaiting a licensing date for him, and may have to wait until a new Bishop has been appointed for a date to be set in his/her diary. Things drag on painfully after such a long wait for the people of Splott and Adamsdown to have their new priest-in-charge.

Later in the evening I watched the first two episodes of the bilingual production of 'Hinterland' on BBC iPlayer. We watched the all-Welsh version on S4C six months ago. Now BBC Wales is showing the bilingual version, and in months to come it will appear on all networks. It was worth watching again, to see how skilfully the use of Welsh and English is interwoven in the script, reflecting real everyday life in mid and north Wales.

No walking today, so no litter picking.

   

O unhappy day

At lunchtime yesterday I walked to our GP surgery to acquire a blood pressure monitoring device to wear for the next twenty four hours, so that a better idea can be obtained of the apparent fluctuations in my blood pressure through the day. As long as the doctors express concern, I have to go along with this, though it's hard to see how this can be changed. I've lived well enough with this without my life being impaired for a long time. I accept that ageing means slowing down, and limitations on what's possible to consider doing in life. Yet there's still an enormous amount I can do, as long as I sleep well and eat enough and no more than my body needs, and I'm grateful for that.

Ceri, the Practice Nurse initialised the device, fitted the sensory cuff to my upper left arm. There's a digital monitor connected to a pump that drives the sphyngmomanometer, and it's got flash storage to harvest readings at given periods of time during the monitoring exercise. It's about the size and shape of a 200 gram tub of butter, and is packed into holster with an adjustable shoulder strap. Once kitted out the challenge is getting one's clothes back on tidily without disconnecting the the tube joining the components. I decided not to examine it and see what information it could display, and just wear it for twenty four hours. 

Before taking a reading, the device inflates slightly as a one minute warning to get ready, meaning sit down or stand still while the device is working. No sooner had I walked out the surgery than it let me know its intention. The best I could do was stand still. I stopped until it finished, then walked on. But within a minute, a repeat performance. Within another couple of minutes, another repetition. To me it suggested a read failure. Once I was settled at home, writing, it started again, and fell into a rhythm of twenty minutes between readings. 

I felt there was every reason why I should have a normally active day, and not just sit around waiting for the device to take a reading, so I decided to re-start Tai Chi classes. It would be a good test of the stability of my dodgy knee. There were more presumed read errors walking there and back, although I stopped each time I got the signal. During the class it went off twice at the prescribed time, and I just stood still, always easy to do in class, and it seemed to work as prescribed.

I think the device was programmed for a longer timing sequence when I went to bed, as I only recall it taking readings as I was falling asleep, and at first light. There may have been more, but after a marvellous class, starting to learn a new sequence of Tai Chi movements, I was very relaxed and slept well. It didn't seem to be active during breakfast, perhaps it was still programmed for night sequence. I noticed its clock was still set at GMT rather than Summer Time. When I started driving across town to St German's for the week's 'class mass', it started working again, with the same pattern of presumed read errors, and this continued during Mass as well.

After the service I went to check on the office PC, still downloading and installing a year's worth of updates at a stupidly slow pace. If this continues, I'll just take the thing home and update it where I can make sure it doesn't keep choking on the process. I took my jacket off while I worked and in the hour that followed noticed that the device resumed working normally. That was how I discovered that the cuff doesn't like any kind of coverage. The sleeves aren't tight by any means, but basically the device won't work underneath anything except the lightest clothing, which implies that it's usage is going to be restricted to quiet stable environments, unlike real world conditions. At home or in a hospital ward, it's going to be fine, but taking readings from a normally active no sedentary daily life, is another matter altogether. Ah well, now I know. I wrote a note to my GP about this and sent it with the device when I returned it to the surgery.

I walked to Chapter Arts Centre before supper to collect this week's organic veg order, and collected thirteen pieces of street litter on my way there and back, most of them flattened discarded cans from the gutter, including four Carling lager cans strung out along the street where they'd most probably been drunk in between purchase and home. And so many energy drink cans too. As if imbibing their content impairs the awareness of the consumer of the proximity of litter bins, or of any conscience about fouling the environment. A dozen pieces yesterday and Monday as well, while out walking. It's hard not to feel angry about such greedy self-centred carelessness.

Today the formal notification of the UK's intention to quit the EU was delivered. I've listened to the minimum amount of news as the endless reportage on the matter is like having sandpaper rubbed endlessly on the skin. I am angry, frustrated, powerless at the electorate being conned by lies and phobic propaganda from the mass media and the politicians. Around three million expats refused a referendum vote and a matter of high concern for them as UK citizens abroad, and a referendum vote on a simplistic majority rather than a two thirds majority, as is common in other European countries. 

Even the Church in Wales has a two thirds rule for electing a Bishop. The process failed to deliver in Llandaff diocese, and the Bench of Bishops has made a mess of using its executive powers leading to the whole process now being subject to legal scrutiny. Falling just short of the two thirds majority could have been read by the Bishops, if they couldn't agree on an appointment, as a sign of the need to re-convene an Electoral College and let them try again. Or even not appoint until the Electoral College can agree. It may come to a re-run of the Electoral College anyway in the end. If it does, it won't be without rancour and bitterness en route. 

Narrow simple majority voting is like a statistical game of chance, and the margin in either direction can fluctuate, for all sorts of reasons unconnected with the purpose of the vote. When there's a clear consensus speedily reached, it's reason for rejoicing. But life isn't always so simple, so reaching a consensual position in any kind of decision making may take more time and be inconvenient, but it does causes people to think further, to be more aware of a breadth of issues and consequences which may be obscured by fears or ambitions at the the start. 

The shadow of terrorist violence falls again

Yesterday was uneventful, unmemorable, a day of rain showers mixed with sunshine. I went for a walk in Pontcanna Fields during a bright spell in the afternoon, but got soaked in a sudden shower on my way home. Unusually, I didn't spot anything to pick up from the streets on the way there, but along the river path collected thirteen items, half pulled from briars in the undergrowth.

Before this morning's 'class Mass' at St German's, I took the car to N.G. Motors for its MOT test. After the service, I went to check on the church hall office PC, which we'd left running on Sunday to address the update backlog problem. It was running, but had stalled, in need of permission to continue. Once rebooted, it completed a lengthy update process, lasting twenty minutes, then declared that another batch was available to download. So, it was a matter of setting it off and leaving it again. 

The internet link is stable enough, but very slow, which may mean the Powerline network set-up is not being as efficient as usual in sending a receiving data. Is a workaround possible, apart from relocating the machine elsewhere in the building nearer the router, at least for the purposes of updating? The church hall ring-main is extensive. At present the distance is forty metres, so who knows what electrical interference may be affecting transmission?

By the time I decided to give up on machine minding for the day, Clare had received a text and sent one to met, to say the car was ready for collection. This was most fortunate as it meant that I didn't need to go home and return at the end of the day, or possibly next day if any repairs were needed, to collect the car. So delighted my venerable auto is still roadworthy! It meant I could call into the Lidl's on the way back from retrieving the car, and stock up with additional food items for the coming days, during which Clare will be with sister-in-law Ann over in East Anglia from tomorrow. 

As I was relaxing after lunch, a brief but urgent phone call came from my sister June to switch on the telly, as a major incident had been declared in London. That's how I learned about the terrorist incident outside the House of Commons. Given the gravity of the 7/7 bombing, I feared the worst as I switched on. With four deaths reported, including a policeman, it was an appalling incident, but I was grateful that it wasn't worse involving a truck bomb or lethal toxic attack. Paramedics were on the scene very quickly and police had the area under security lock-down very quickly after the initial incident had concluded. The assailant's car, used as a simple lethal weapon was travelling on public roads, with possibly the best video surveillance and policing in Britain. It's impossible to scan minds for deadly ill-will, however. The stories of all those involved will dominate the media for days to come. 

This week, some airlines working on Middle Eastern routes are starting to ban electronic devices larger than a phone from cabin baggage, due to reports of terrorist techies disguising explosives to resemble batteries used in laptops. Placing them in the aircraft's hold in robust containers would limit damage from any undetected device. Working out exactly how to manage this, so that no passenger has their electronic baggage stolen in transit to or from the flight will be challenging. I don't suppose it'll be too long before this becomes ubiquitous on the majority of flights, even though the risk of an attack on an airport terminal is regarded as far more likely than successfully detonating a bomb on a 'plane, in the light of rigorous security  measures already in place. It's a strange 'new normal' we've had to get used to in over the fifteen years since 9/11. 

What a hostile world we've created for our descendents, despite all our best idealist intentions!

  

Midweek meditation

The sun lit up the interior of St German's beautifully during the 'class Mass' this morning. The class in church today seemed to have quite a few children unresponsive and in a bad mood. I had to work quite hard to get them smiling singing and moving about. 

No sooner had the class left after the service, than another class of younger children arrived to look around the church with their teacher and support staff. At the same time, a couple arrived for a preparation session for the christening of their year old son on Sunday after Mass. 

With a midday deadline to be home for the Ignatian Prayer Group, I had just enough time, after meeting them, to install another network plug and attach to an office desktop machine donated to the church. Thankfully it worked, but the Windows 10 PC hadn't been used for ten months. Many  updates are needed and now it's connected to the internet, it'll have to be left to complete those before it's of any use, as updating 

There were seven of us for the Ignatian Group. It was a welcome respite after a busy morning. I spent the afternoon writing a eulogy from the notes I took yesterday to deliver on behalf of the family at next Monday's funeral. Before cooking supper, I walked to Chapter Arts to collect the week's organic veggie bag. I picked up a dozen pieces of litter en route. The litter bin next to the Romilly Road bus stop is in a convenient place to deposit my haul, being near home. I wonder if the guys who empty that bin notice it's been more full than usual lately?

  

Midweek ministries

Yesterday morning we welcomed two classes to the midweek Mass at St Germans instead of the usual one. It happened because one of the class teachers was called away without warning on compassionate leave, and recruiting a supply teacher at very short notice proved difficult. For one or other of the classes, this was a change in routine. Thankfully all were in a good mood and sang well. A chill wind defeated the effort of the heating system to make the building comfortably warm, so I got the children doing actions to the Peruvian Gloria and stamping their feet during the Alleluia, hoping that a little movement would be beneficial. I read them the Candlemas Gospel and kept my commentary brief, so they wouldn't have to sit for too long and get cold. 

After the service over a cup of coffee in the Day Centre, we started discussing plans and timetabling for Lent. Later in the day, I started to put all the liturgical engagements in my diary for the school and church services up until Easter. There's a lively hope that Fr Phelim will be licensed to the parishes as soon as possible afterwards. At that point, I'll have to shift my attention as a locum priest to my home parish, again, with the hope that the appointment of a replacement for Fr Phelm will be made very soon. It's important, given that three churches and a heavy urban pastoral workload is more than one full time priest on his can bear. If later in the year I go back to locum duties in Spain, if previous experience is anything to go by, it will seem very quiet in comparison.

This morning I celebrated the St John's midweek Eucharist for the Feast of the Presentation, 1984 BCP style, with ten people present. Straight afterwards, people started arriving for a funeral due to take place half an hour after we'd finished. There was just enough time for me to prepare for the service and drink a cup of tea before the hearse arrived. There were about fifty mourners present, a fraction of the attendance at Tuesday funeral in St Catherine's. That's just how it is, no two occasional offices are the same, each has to be prepared for separately and carefully. Doing half a dozen funerals in a week, as is often the case for fully time clergy in a Parish like ours can be very demanding, as well as disruptive of all other activities. I just hope that pastoral reforms now under way in the diocese and Church in Wales generally will address this. I'm not sure the church is as concerned about clergy health as it should be.

I was driven to Thornhill Crematorium in the latest Jaguar XF saloon. The fleet of funeral company cars recently exchanged diesel for petrol models, the diesel ones having proved less than satisfactory for technical reasons. Paul, my driver, proudly showed off the car's state of the art technology. The vehicle has its own internet connection and can receive a wide range of digital radio and TV channels (the latter only when stationary) as well as sat nav and other aids to navigation and parking. The car can be paired via USB and/or Bluetooth to any kind of digital device and even has its own built in web browser. It is, in effect, a three litre V6 supercharged smartphone one wheels! 

The car has heated seats with a built in massage mode, something I found quite disconcerting, since it reminded me of having small kids in the car kicking the back of the front seat, bored with containment. These cars do big mileages whether in long trips or a multitude of short ones around town. For those who spend half of their working lives behind the wheel, it must make a difference to drive a vehicle that is designed for creature comfort.

After a late lunch, I walked into town, and took photos to record the progress being made on the Central Square construction work, and to visit the CBS office to have tea and a chat with Julie and Ashley, but Julie had already left by the time I arrived, feeling unwell. Ah well, another time. Discussing current Company affairs, I don't think I'm any longer capable of coping with the worries and responsibilities of running a business, on top of the pastoral duties I get to undertake. I value the experience I had over six years of being a voluntary priest with a day job, something I hoped to do a lot earlier in life, but never got around to. Now I need all my inner resources to respond to the increased flow of duties that has come my way lately to the best of my ability. Who knows what the future holds?

      

Conversion, St Paul, and the open church

Back at St German's again this morning for the midweek 'class Mass', with a dozen communicants and two dozen children, telling the children the story of St Paul's conversion. Today's his feast day. The horrid catarrh bug I've been harbouring since the weekend made it a bit of a struggle to give of my best, as singing wasn't easy and my nose kept running. 

Afterwards a young woman came into church and sat quietly in the nave. I greeted her as I was leaving, and she asked if it was OK to come in and just pray. I told her she was welcome whenever she found the church was open for services or housework, as it's there for everybody. She told me that her interest in spirituality had grown in recent years since she'd learned about Buddhist meditation. What this did was to kindle her interest in Christian faith, as she knew she'd been baptized as a child. I think she'd taken a break from her work in a nearby hostel for the homeless.

We chatted for a while about journeying in faith, and I reassured her she'd always be welcome just to come sit and enjoy the peace and beauty without needing to join in a service, unless she felt she wanted to. How many people's path to conversion down the ages, have started like this, waiting in silence in a peaceful empty church? I wonder.

After this cheering encounter, I made my way home, to lie low for the rest of the day, in the hope of seeing off this miserable ailment. I have two funerals booked for the coming week and a further one for the following, once a date can be settled upon. With Fr Mark still on leave, there are extra duties to cover in February now, so taking care of myself and not overdoing it has to be a priority when I'm not working.
  

Double duty, then respite

Back to St German's for the Wednesday school Mass, with a class that seems more eager than others to sing at the service. After coffee and a chat in the Day Centre, I had to return home and arrange another bereavement visit, for a funeral on the thirty-first of this month, passed on to me by Fr Phelim. This one, will be that of a young girl who died unexpectedly of a winter bad chest. It's usually people my age and older who succumb to 'the pensioners' friend', except when there's a major epidemic, from which God preserve us. This will doubtless come as a shock to the extended family, and they'll need plenty of time to prepare, so the sooner I can make contact the better. By lunchtime, I had secured a rendezvous for Friday morning at St Catherine's.

Thursday morning, a walk to St John's Canton to celebrate their midweek Eucharist, then a return home to await collection an hour later to return to St John's to officiate at a funeral. This was followed by a journey to Thornhill for the burial, then an hour in the Crem waiting room until my second funeral office of the day was due to start. I used the free time to complete my Duo Lingo daily exercise, as best I could given the flaky signal, and was quite surprised, given the distractions, to get 100% again, eleven days after the last time. I thought the set of exercises were easier than others lately. Difficulty levels in the exercises seem to vary, but so does my ability to avoid typos, memory and attention lapses.

I was home again by five and eating an early supper prepared by Clare, so we could leave early and walk across the Taff to the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. Clare is a supporting 'Friend' of the College, and gets concert information and ticket concessions. This evening, we heard a performance from an excellent and classy jazz ensemble - piano, bass, drums, alto sax - music students playing standards from the 'cool' era of the fifties and sixties, in a manner of the Dave Brubeck Quartet. This kind of is part of the musical sound track of my early adolescence. I'm familiar enough with the music to know it almost off by heart, to know that they were exploring this music with fresh positive energy. It wasn't just faithful reproduction, it was proper jazz, and had me smiling from ear to ear.

Then we had a solo recital from a brilliant pianist, playing pieces by Debussy, Liszt and Chopin with great sensitivity and passion, making full use of a fine concert instrument, plumbing the depths of its finest subtle sounds in quiet pieces as well as its rich energy in the stormy dramatic moments. I found myself reflecting of the different emotional energies of these contrasting kinds of music for the first time and maybe that's a result of being in a smallish recital room with excellent an acoustic, making for an intimate direct experience of hearing music without the meditation of electronic amplification. The jazz spoke of the delight of playful adventure with simple melody, harmony, rhythm. The classical pieces in all their variety and length, explored the range and depth of powerful emotion, from contemplative awareness to passionate grief and anger. All this comes from the music as much as from the performer, and maybe somewhat from the hearer as well.

    

Hospital journeys

Once more, up bright and early, after a short night's sleep yesterday, to deliver Clare to the Heath hospital for a seven thirty appointment for her eye operation. I went home, to await her call to collect her and soon fell asleep on the sofa for a couple of hours, after saying Morning Prayer. Then, I walked to the bank, where I received a call to tell me she was ready. Fortunately there was no queue, so I returned for the car, and by one o'clock, had collected her and was cooking her scrambled eggs for lunch at home. She couldn't be left alone for her first day after surgery, just in case, so I didn't go out. In between cooking meals, there were phone calls to be made arranging three meetings with bereaved families for whom I am officiating at funerals in the next fortnight. These came my way as Fr Mark is on leave.

Then, another early start today, to take Clare to an eight o'clock follow up appointment at the Heath hospital. It was to be a shorter one, so I stayed with her, and we were on our way back home shortly after eight thirty. I was interested to observe the increase in the volume of traffic between starting at seven and at seven thirty. On the return trip it was even more noticeable, with ten minute slow moving traffic queue from the hospital exit slip road to the Gabalfa flyover. Something I rarely see. Having dropped Clare off, I headed for St German's to celebrate Mass in good time, as morning traffic across the town centre around nine thirty is always slow moving. Today, it was exacerbated further by the introduction of lane closures on Newport Road, for work to be done on the central reservation, in both directions.

There were fourteen adults and thirty school children for the midweek Mass. Among the visitors on this occasion was a 94 year old lady whose family had attended St German's in the 20s and 30s, when she was a child. There was much delighted animated conversation between her and 94 year old Gwyneth, who has been a regular worshipper at the church her entire life. I was amazed to discover that our visitor is the mother of Canon Ruth Moverley, one of the first women to be ordained priest in Llandaff diocese, whom we know through the Ignatian Prayer group.

Her mum was proud of the fact that last week Ruth had presided over the recent 20th anniversary celebration of the ordination of women to the priesthood in a special Eucharist in Llandaff Cathedral, and justifiably so. It's lovely to think that St German's has figured in the lives of both women and men called to the priesthood, regardless of the fact that it has been served by celibate male clergy for the first 120 years of its history. When Fr Phelim becomes priest-in-charge, he'll be their first incumbent to be married with children, a change which most will regard as a welcome change.

After lunch I walked to the first of my three bereavement visits, organised yesterday, in a street the other side of Thompson's Park. I was asked to deliver the eulogy, and returned home with biographical notes provided by the widower. I assembled them into a text I'd be happy to deliver, then walked back again to pop a copy of it through the door. By that time it was dark and the as good as full moon was rising over the hill in the park, apparently it'll be completely full just before dawn tomorrow. Tonight the sky is clear, so Cardiff gets the full benefit of beautiful moonlight. A wondrous sight, as ever.

On my walks this past few days I have been trying out a simple pedometer app on my phone, as I was unsatisfied with the accuracy of Google fit. So far, I'm pleased with the results it delivers.
   
  

First carol service of the season

After scraping a couple of days worth of frost from the car, I  drove home from Kenilworth yesterday, and didn't do much for the rest of the day, apart from walking into the city centre for exercise. It's cold in Cardiff too, as cold as Kenilworth was over the weekend. Cold weather seems to have more of an impact on me these days, not just because I'm still acclimatising after time spent in Spain, but I think it's because in losing weight, I have shed a layer of body fat, and now need to dress up more than I used to. I didn't have enough energy to walk in both directions, so caught the bus home as the sun was about to set to avoid getting too chilled. Even in a warm house this winter, I soon feel the chill when the central heating goes off.

This morning, Clare needed the car, so I left for St German's just after half past eight, to take a bus to the centre and walk there. Traffic going into town was moving very slowly, several city buses failed to show up on schedule, and after fifteen minutes it was one of the out of town buses that appeared first, and joined the traffic queue for the centre. Half way down Cathedral Road, a large builder's lorry was parked on the wrong side of the road, causing an obstruction. I couldn't see whether this belonged to a scaffolding work team or if it was parked to pick up a builder's skip, but whatever it was dramatically constricted traffic flow, as outbound traffic can also be pretty busy at this time of day.

It's not the first time this has happened on rush hour journeys. I don't understand why Council's traffic management doesn't issue regulations banning large vehicles from parking or delivering on arterial roads during peak traffic periods, not least to mitigate pollution caused by stop-start motoring, and help make journey planning more predictable for people doing business that involves going into or through the city centre. I'd argue this is needed, as it's not unusual for these large vehicles to be double parked as kerbside parking spaces are already fully occupied. 

Anyway, the bus eventually deposited me in Greyfriars at ten past nine, and a fifteen minute brisk walk got me to St Germans with just a few minutes to spare. Tredegarville school children, teachers and many parents were there for their annual carol service, and the place was a-buzz with anticipation. All I had to do was welcome people and say an opening prayer. As St Nicholas day is today, I told them all briefly that he was saint who inspired Father Christmas to be kind and generous to children. So much better than debunking the myth, as I understand some clergy are prone to do if they get the chance. Kids will find out the truth about Santa soon enough as they grow up, but it's important to affirm that the tradition of generosity and kindness goes way back, and is what matters most.

The service was structured like a Nine Lessons and carols, with much simplified bidding prayer and bible readings, with a nativity tableau at the end. The singing of the whole school, as well as that of rehearsed groups was superbly uplifting, a great tribute to the school's hard working teachers and the wonderful esprit de corps that characterises it. I think everybody's favourite was chorus of two dozen angels in white chiffon, doing a hip hop rap version of Gloria in Excelsis, with waving arms and hand clapping. Afterwards a parent whose family is Greek came over to chat and thanked me for mentioning St Nicholas, since today is Cardiff's St Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church's patronal festival. I was pleased that I was able to remember to say Καλά Χριστούγεννα' (Happy Christmas) as we parted. It's many years since I last had the opportunity to use that greeting!

I chatted with a few people over a coffee provided by the school Parents Association afterwards, then walked back into the centre, lingering in the shops for a while before catching a 61 for home. Then finally, I got around to buying stamps and printing off labels and Christmas newsletters. There's still a few days to go before the posting deadline, so I wasn't in any hurry to set up an assembly line and finish the job in one go. That can wait for another day. The evening was spent idling in front of the telly instead.

     

Valuing confidence

I had to take an early bus into town inorder to walk to St German's for this morning's Mass with a class of children from Tredegarville school, as the car is still at the garage being repaired. Not long after the Mass ended however, I had a message to say it was ready, so I was able to walk just a mile from the church across from Adamsdown into Splott to collect and pay.

Hamid's stray baptism certificate turned up, so I countersigned it and sent a photo of it to his lawyer, before handing it over to him, ready for his tribunal appearance tomorrow. I'm very glad to have the car back from repair, to drive me to church for a nine o'clock rendezvous with him and Peter tomorrow, thus avoiding an even earlier start to get across town in good time, than today. 

The repairs were as expensive as when the tyres and exhaust were replaced. More than the car is worth maybe, but despite the wear and tear, the car is still worth the TLC. I think this whenever it's been serviced and runs well. It has an old fashioned solidity about it, and handles well on demanding roads. Finding a replacement to compare with it will be difficult. I don't suppose we'll get quite the same value for money expended on a wasting asset ever again. So we'll keep it a little longer and feel grateful for its general reliability. 

I remember the previous garage mechanic who serviced our cars, Terry Gibson, in Yate outside Bristol thirty years ago, saying that the time you must sell a car and get a new one is either when it is broken beyond economical repair, or, you lose confidence in its reliability and are not prepared to invest any more time, money or effort in it. Wise advice, and I'm sticking with this good counsel.

As I had to collect the car, I forgot that I had another eye test appointment after Mass. I couldn't have reached the clinic in time without a car anyway, and that hand't crossed my mind when I booked it in. Later in the day the eye clinic texted me to flag this up, and I was able to rearrange for a fortnight's time. What a nuisance for them. Yet, the receptionist was most gracious about my lapse.

School Nativity celebration in Church

To be sure of avoiding traffic jams, I took the bus to town and walked from there to St German's this morning to get there by nine thirty for the Tredegarville School Nativity celebration. It was an amazing feat of logistics to get two hundred kids into church, a large proportion of them in costumes and ready for action on time. The teachers had written their own play, full of rhyming couplets, and it featured Dr Who's Tardis, to allow children to travel back in time to see the story come alive. The singing was full of enthusiasm. Angels danced as well as sang. Such a happy event, and a special pleasure for me to welcome parents teachers and children, and then at the end to lead them in saying the Lord's Prayer, in the light of a few comments about the recent controversy over the CofE #justpray cinema video ban.

It is, of course a multi-cultural and multi-faith school, and I caught sight of a few children not joining in, as they are at liberty not to, if their beliefs do not permit this. Every time a class attends a weekday Mass in church, there are children who don't join in, and don't come up for a blessing. It's just part of the normality of school life, one which staff work hard to maintain without fear or favour. Generating the trust and support of all the different families of the school to build a climate of mutual respect is a most demanding yet highly rewarding labour, in times as difficult as ours.

By eleven the church was empty again, and being made ready for a service I was scheduled to take at twelve thirty. The church nave was full for the funeral of an eighty year old matriarch with a large extended family. Such a contrast to when the place was buzzing with excited children, but its majestic architecture succeeds in accommodating such different occasions, leaving people with good memories, even on sad occasions. After the funeral concluded at Thornhill crematorium, I was driven back home in the empty hearse, arriving in time to cook a risotto for a late lunch. 

These days, our different engagements sometimes make it more convenient to eat a main meal in the middle of the day, rather than in the evening, as is our habit. Eating in the middle of the day suits me better, but routines keep changing, but tonight's Chi Gung session takes place just when normally we're preparing for supper, and Clare is out at choir practice. So we have a light supper later, and listen to 'The Archers' on iPlayer instead of live, while we're eating.

   

School Harvest Mass

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

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

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

 

Short and long term planning.

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

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

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