Winds of change

This week the midweek Mass attended by a class of children from Tredegarville School moves to Tuesday from Wednesday. so I was out of the house by nine thirty to drive across town to St German's. After the service, four of us drank coffee and chatted in the church hall. In today's email was a copy of the Bishop's decree on the formation of the mew Ministry Areas. Like many faits accomplis, it's short on detail and not thought through in detail, and is not being well received. As a top-down edict its consequence is to reduce the number of lay people involved in decision making, while increasing the responsibilities of the few. The impact of changes imposed on churchgoing membership overall remains to be seen. If it doesn't work, an edict reversing the changes can just as easily be imposed.

When I got back later than usual, I cooked lunch, then went for a circuit of Bute Park. The sun had just set as I crossed Pontcanna Fields on the way back/ The sky was beautiful, mostly clear but decorated with colourful clouds. The temperature dropped in the waning light, and thick mist rolled over the grass. An enchanting scene.

More outrageous revelations in the news about Downing Street government support staff and cabinet members flouting covid regulations last spring's lockdown. Will this be enough to put an end to Boris Johnson's premiership? Several times he has denied law breaking by his office staff, and now a formal investigation is under way which may show that he knowingly lied. He has lied before, notably about  the promise of brexit, and got away with it, but now it seems loyal electors are losing patience with him. After all you can't fool all of the people all of the time.

In the evening we watched an interesting programme in the BBC2 series 'Digging for Britain'. It's best described as a news magazine programme on archaeological finds, reviewing work on digs going on in various parts of Britain. One of the five reports was on finding clear evidence of manor grange farm of the mediaecal Order of Knights Hospitallers in the Leicester countryside, on a previously unexcavated site whose surface contours led people to presume previously that it had once been an iron age fort. In a an Anglo Saxon cemetery in the city of Cambridge were found grave goods and ornamental clasps that had traces of mineralised fibre from the cloaks they belonged to, from fifth century Britain. The weave pattern in each trace was quite different, indicating local and continental weaving methods being used in the same era. 

Then there was a report on a palaeontological discovery in the mud of Rutland Water at low level, that has turned out to be the fossilised skeleton of a ten metre long icthysaurus, the largest of its kind ever found in Britain. TV news reporting at its most riveting - scientists on the job, enthusing! After this treat I remembered that I was two thirds of the way through 'When the dust settles' on More Four, about a murderous Danish terror attack, eight people whose lives are changed by it, as well as tracking down perpetrators. Well observed slow going, ten episodes long, but I watched one episode before turning in for the night.

Ministry Area change ahead

I drove to St German's this morning and had fun celebrating the school 'Class Mass'. Fr Stewart, the Roath Ministry Area Leader emailed while I was there to ask about my availability for duties there in the New Year when St German's is merged into the Roath Ministry Area. He said he'd need to be at St German's two Sundays a month. I said I'd be happy to cover the other two during the transitional period. This would free me either to attend St Catherine's or help out in the Parish. Next term the 'Class Mass' will move to a Tuesday mornings so that Fr Stewart and take his share of the celebrations. That's also good for me, as it will allow me to attend or minister at St Catherine's midweek, something I've not been able to to since last summer. From my viewpoint and hopefully for Fr Stewart, it's a win-win situation.

After a cup of coffee and a chat, I returned home and collected this week's veggie bag while Clare cooked a prawn stir fry for lunch, earlier than usual as she had an afternoon optometry appointment, leading to the need to order a new expensive pair of specs to optimise her failing eyesight for as long as it lasts. After she'd left, I recorded the audio for next week's Morning Prayer, and I wrote the biblical reflection to go with it before walking in the park. Again a cold wind  blew and it threatened to rain, but didn't until I was nearly home, just at sunset. 

After supper I prepared for tomorrow's funeral, and then watched another couple of 'Crossing Lines' episodes. I think the series script writing and characterisation has developed a lot since early on, probing deep within the stereotypical characters, giving them plausible and often tragic stories.

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.

  

Not Dewi Sant but Ash Wednesday

Today's first assignment was the Eucharist and Ashing ceremony at St Catherine's, with a congregation of eight. Then, after lunch, a visit to Tredegarville School for a simple Ashing ceremony for staff and two hundred children. As today is St David's Day, their morning had been taken up with the traditional school Eisteddfod. I full expected the children to be fidgety and tired with over-excitement, and was amazed at how relaxed, quiet and receptive they were. I explained what we were about to do and then taught them to sing a Kyrie Eleison I learned half a lifetime ago from the Taize repertoire. Once they'd mastered it, they continued to sing throughout the procession of children to the front to receive their black smudge on the forehead. This was quite difficult to achieve with perfection, as some moved as I was taking aim. 

With prayers, it was all over in twenty five minutes. The look on children's faces as they came up to receive, some smiling, some serious, some looking a little lost in the moment, was just wonderful to behold. I would like to have spent time just looking into each child's eyes a little longer than the few seconds each took, as is possible when I meet children at the altar rail to be blessed during Mass. For me, this deepens the sense of awe and wonder at the heart of the sacramental mystery, seeing them so caught up in the experience of Christ's presence in worship.

Before returning home to finalise a sermon for the evening Mass, I spent a while in the church hall trying workarounds to the problem of poor wi-fi connectivity in the building. A wi-fi range extender purchased has not delivered expected results. The fault is not in the device but in the location of the wireless router, in an office under the stairs near the entrance. There building has a steel frame and reinforced concrete walls, making it just about impossible for router and extender to handshake, except when plugged in at a socket in the lobby, ten metres away. The extender's signal cannot penetrate the length of the hall and backstage as the only power socket is located next to a steel and concrete pillar which masks the signal or deflects it in the wrong direction. 

A powerline network setup with wi-fi extender would do the job nicely, if only there was a free wall socket in office under the stairs. The answer may well be to relocate the incoming phone socket, in the main hall, along with the wireless router itself. This made me envious of the solution adopted by some Spanish telecom internet service providers, of having phone and broadband delivered wirelessly into properties to domestic handsets and routers through a domestic transponder which captures signals broadcast from an 4G cell tower transmitter or a satellite antenna in the vicinity. This is occasionally subject to outages due to electric storms or really excessive traffic, as when there's a key football match or major emergency, and everyone is attached or trying to attach to the network at the same time, but normally, its fast, stable and effective.

There were twenty of us for the Solemn Mass and Ashing ceremony at St German's in the evening. For the second night running, everyone sat in the chancel and enjoyed the acoustical pleasure of singing parts of the service unaccompanied. Each Lent these days, I attempt to do something that requires me to be creative and learn something new and not just fall back on twenty odd years worth of material stored in my liturgy and preaching digital archive. This year, I'm going to highlight the different Psalms which are set for use in the Sunday Eucharistic lectionary, as so often these are sung or said with hardly a reference to them, when there's so much to be said about the rest of the readings. 

Tonight, it was Psalm 51, which has contributed phrases to so many expressions of penitence in Anglican forms of worship, and the daily offices. The biblical texts is annotated with a reference to origin as a prayer of king David occasioned by the unmasking of his adulterous relationship with Bathsheba and his deadly effort to cover up his mortal sin. So often the prophets denounced Israel as an 'adulterous nation', as people's dalliance with the worship of foreign gods was considered in much the same terms, as being a breach of their covenant with God. Plenty of food for thought here.

I also wondered if there was some different effort I could make that wasn't just the usual routine of fasting, prayer and alms-giving, but which would push me into being more aware, more responsible. Often when I'm out walking I start feeling angry toward people who not only wander the streets at night drinking from bottles, but leave them dumped if not smashed in places where this could harm others, and leave the place looking ugly and uncared for. Often after football training or matches on pitches in Llandaff or Pontcanna Fields the grass is littered with discarded bottles and cans. Not all team coaches and supporters seem to be bothered about cleaning up after them. Occasionally I have collected a plastic shopping bag of stuff to carry to the nearby bins. 

It's immature and irresponsible behaviour, but impossible to police. So, instead of moaning and being resentful, I have resolved for Lent to make it my business to keep a bag in my pocket and pick up cans, bottles, takeaway cartons and the suchlike whenever I am walking anywhere. Having decided this at the Eucharist in St Catherine's this morning, I started on my way home, and collected seven pieces in just over half a mile. Some had been stuffed into boundary hedges, others balanced on garden walls, on waste bins, or ledges from which they could fall and smash. Two bottles that were parked on the street outside of Poncanna's gated St Winifrid's apartments lay there undisturbed since I walked to church on Sunday morning. Residents drive in and out seemingly oblivious of the squalor. 

Council auto-sweepers drive by occasionally, but they only do streets and gutters. Trash dumped out of reach seems to be nobody's concern. Well, if I can see it, I can do something about it, can't I? I don't have the energy to exhort others, start a civic awareness trend or a political campaign to extend community service payback schemes for delinquents to every city neighbourhood, but I can pick up what I notice, if I bother to make the effort this Lent. It is a bit of a penance, but it might help make me feel less ashamed about living in such a slovenly society.

   

Waxing eloquent

For once, no road works congesting traffic in the city centre as I drove to St German's for the 'class Mass' this morning. Once more it was very chilly in church so we did some 'action singing'. Even so I was feeling very chilled by the end, and glad to wrap myself around a radiator in the hall with a coffee afterwards. I taught the children to sing a simple Sanctus melody in the form of a melody that can be sung as a round. I'll try and teach other classes to sing it simply first, then try to make it work as a round thereafter. I have about six or eight more sessions with them before handing over this treasured spot to Fr Phelim, when he takes over as Priest in Charge.

As my blocked ear was giving me much discomfort, I returned home for lunch I spent much of the rest of the day languishing and annoyed that I hadn't been able to find relief. Yesterday, however Dianne had told me about a specialist clinic dealing with ear wax removal by microsuction technique up in London. With a little encouragement from sister June who's been talking to Dianna about this, I googled and found there's a clinic offering this in Llanishen. I have noticed over the years that GP practice nurses are increasingly reluctant to work ear wax removal. I've now learned that it's not done at all in some practices because it's not considered a cost effective use of time. This forces sufferers to pay for private treatment, or just keep suffering. What would Nye Bevan have made of this I wonder?

In today's post a notification from our energy supplier arrived about the roll-out of Smart Metering in our street, with an invitation to make contact and arrange a date for installation. All well and good, I suppose. It promises economies, but will it deliver? The information states that it relies on available wi-fi or mobile signal strength to send consumption monitoring data to thee company's data centre for processing. This makes me curious. Mobile signal strength our side of the street is very flaky, and we rely on a phone signal relay device which is attached to our domestic router, to be able to make mobile calls inside the house. So, will this metering device be utilizing our internal signal relay, or even our wifi? This is what I hope to find out when I get around to making that first call to the action line. How secure would this be, piggy-backing off a domestic router I wonder? Given the range of security concerns raised as a result of hacking and malicious misuse of 'Internet of Things' networks, all kinds of possibilities are imaginable. Will the booking personnel and/or help desk people have answers? Will they understand the questions? We'll see.
      

Red light St Andrew's day

I had one of those 'red light' starts to the day, it was red traffic lights all the way there and almost all the way back. I was crossing town as usual on a Wednesday morning to reach St German's for the St Andrew's Day 'Class Mass' the last of the series of this term with Tredegarville school children. Next Tuesday, the whole school will be in church for their service lessons and carols, and the midweek Mass will be a more staid and muted affair in the Lady chapel.

After the service, before heading for the dentists in Llandaff North for a check up. I headed back home to Pontcanna to collect a spare 'phone battery, as mine was nearly dead and I was going to be out for the afternoon. The traffic through Llandaff itself was slow, more red lights, and I made it by the skin of my teeth, only to discover that my appointment is tomorrow at the same time. 

Then I headed for Newport, a little earlier than expected to visit Martin for a lovely afternoon of catch-up, after my time away. I meet a couple of young Iranian asylum seekers he's befriended lately, meeting them through Karim, the Farsi speaking Afghan live-in support worker who helps Martin and Chris to look after Andrew and Robert, their foster sons. It's is the most hospitable of homes I have ever had the pleasure to know, open to women and men of all ages, all abilities, and nations, needy and privileged alike. A wonderful practical domestic expression of the highest human and Christian ideals. I come away feeling inspired, uplifted, and glad they are such long standing friends.

While I was there, I introduced Martin to Google Blogger, and showed him how to start an account of his own. As an experienced priest and journalist, he wants to write some reflections on the news and mass media and how present things, as observed from a Christian perspective. It's several years since I last introduced anyone to the use of Blogger. Its user interface has changed, and my ability to use it has changed a little, though not much. I've not done anything to develop my blogs or enhance the sites I use, being too busy with content, so it took me a while to tune myself in to the essential procedures. This wasn't made any easier by working on a Macbook, something I haven't tried for years. It's irritatingly different for a Windows and Linux/Android/Chrome user in in-grained habits, but we got to first base in the end. I look forward to when he starts writing and publishing. I'm sure it won't be dull!

I left just at sunset, and after a cloudless day all over South Wales the entire western half of the horizon was fringed with colour, grading from russet to orange and yellow merging into pale clear blue, an exquisite sight. Such a pity I was in no position to stop and gaze in the evening rush hour traffic. At least on this home run, there were fewer red lights.

      

A foodie celebration

This morning, at the midweek 'class Mass' with children from Tredegarville School, I decided to talk about 'Stir Up' Sunday and preparing for Christmas. I didn't have enough to time to prepare visual aids, so I borrowed a pudding from the food stocks of Marisa, who manages the old peoples' day centre in St German's Church Hall on my way into church. She said she had thirty of them, in preparation for the series of Christmas dinners the day centre will be laying on over the next few weeks, for as many as a hundred people at a time. Just amazing!

It's impossible to remember the last time I addressed a group of children on the 'Stir Up' theme, so it's just as well I have nothing to recall to compare with what I did today. But I did have fun, asking the kids to think about the ingredients that make so tasty a pudding. Marisa's pudding was pre-packed in a plastic bowl suitable for boiling rather than in tinfoil (as we now do at home) or a traditional cloth bag. But, it was a suitably mysterious object around which to let the imagination weave a narrative.

Christmas pudding would be foreign to perhaps half of my audience, whose family origins were in Asia or Africa, although similar rich festive delicacies are made from dried fruit, nuts and rich fats all over the world. Finding out about the common elements would require a morning in a classroom or an after school session with families, rather than ten minutes in the middle of a service. It's great when families whose origins are far from our shores are given an opportunity to share their foods with the wider community. I know it happens in schools on special occasions. I remember this happening during my ministry in St Paul's Bristol, in Geneva, and recently during my month with the church in Malaga.

Talking about food we love to share in a faith context is something I greatly enjoy. It's wonderful to see churches all over the place rediscovering the value of food sharing and food culture as part of mission and evangelism through hospitality, communal meals and food banks, as well as festive celebrations. The mass industrialisation of food preparation and consumption during the 20th century made the task of feeding people daily less demanding of time and energy. All too often however, social and cultural dimensions of food were neglected, forgotten, divorced from relationships, contributing to the spiritual ailments of our time - chief among them, loneliness, identity loss, and (surprise surprise) eating disorders. 

Part of the Church's recovery of confidence in the Gospel message it proclaims is reconnecting with its food culture, something our ancient spiritual mother, Judaism, never lost. There's no better way to enjoy the 'abundant life' which Jesus came to share with the world.

School in church

Out of the house and on my way by car to St Germans's by nine this morning to prepare to welcome the whole of Tredegarville School to church for the specially devised Way of the Cross service instead of the usual weekday Mass. It was an opportunity to tell the whole story from Palm Sunday to Easter Day in a way that involved the children. Eight of them were involved in readings, and the whole school sang cheerfully some of their favourite songs. As we got to the Easter story, the sun broke through the clouds. As Angela is still off sick, the heating wasn't switched on as early as it usually is, so the church was chilly to start with, and the children kept outdoor jackets on. A brisk pace kept us going without too much discomfort. Let's hope that it gave them more to remember than the routine service attended.

After lunch, I went into the office to meet with Ashley for a discussion with a new enquiry about radio service use. At the moment the office is like a warehouse, with boxes of new radios everywhere, as the roll out of a planned upgrade gets under way. The high quality of our operation is much more important to improve than its rate of expansion. Our motto is 'expect the unexpected', and being ready for fresh challenges is important, and quite an adventure in many ways.

Since we were mentioned honourably in a Council Scrutiny committee report earlier this month, we seem to be getting noticed a little more than hitherto, though whether that will lead anywhere interesting is anybody's guess. Although RadioNet was started to support of the work of the Business Crime Reduction Partnership of Council, Police and City Centre Retailers, it's often felt as if we were regarded like an illegitimate offspring that unwittingly exposes the embarrassing family secrets. It it really beginning to change? I hope so.

There were eight of us for tonight's Eucharist, and we had an opportunity to congratulate Hamid, who, after six months of living in a squalid hostel has been offered a place of his won to live while he waits for his asylum appeal to be heard. I heard earlier in the week that the representations I made about the judgement against him have been registered with the Home Office, quite apart from any that Cardiff's Asylum Justice voluntary advocacy scheme may have made to petition for an appeal. I suspect that the first we'll hear of the success of a petition will be a date given for a hearing, or more ominously a deportation notification issued.

Meanwhile, Hamid can have a place of his own, but sadly for us it'll be in Portsmouth, and not in Cardiff, so keeping in touch will be a challenge, and we'll have to find him a new congregation to welcome and support him as he develops in Christian discipleship. Until he can give as a postcode for his new abode, we can't start searching to identify one.
          

Midweek ministry

Midweek 'class Mass' again yesterday morning at St German's, with one of the younger groups of children. I used the story of The Three Children and the Burning Fiery Furnace, and improvised a responsive version of the Song of the Three Children with them. They rose to the challenge very well. Some classes are more reluctant to rise to the occasion. It's my version of Godly Play!

The monthly Ignatian meditation group switched to our house at the last moment due to a domestic crisis for one of the members. A couple of other members were indisposed at the last moment, so we were just three, and I was asked to lead as soon as we were gathered. I too the Gospel passage for the day from John eight, with Jesus arguing with those Jews who would talk to him, but were not disciples. A difficult passage to envisage, let alone follow and meditate upon because of its nature, but I felt it would be a good passiontide challenge. Each of us struggled but had something to say in the end. It's not something that you can regard as 'success'. Learning comes in many guises, especially about difficult things.

I didn't go into the office to work later, but eventually worked from home. I say eventually, because I'd just got started, editing Monday's Board meeting minutes to include two documents mentioned, when the machine I was working on automatically rebooted, following a flashed pop-up warning too quick to read, then spent an hour installing a batch of updates. I was not well pleased with this singular act of dictatorship on the part of Microsoft. Any time you lose control of a device like that without being sure of the reason is cause for concern that security has been compromised. When will those well meaning controlling fools realise that they are undermining confidence in their own system? Give me Linux and Open Source any time. Pity I have to use Windows for work all the time.

This morning I went to St John's Canton to celebrate their midweek Eucharist for St Patrick's Day, having received a late evening email from Fr Phelim to ask if I could cover for him. It's nice to help in my local Parish as well as further afield so I always say yes if I can manage it. It's also nice to be able to walk to church, although a lingered too long at home and had to take the car this morning to be sure to arrive in good time. There were fourteen of us, and I'm there Maundy Thursday in the morning as well.

This evening, over to St German's for the last of our Lenten Stations of the Cross with Adoration. The whole school is coming over next Wednesday morning for a special edition of the Way of the Cross, featuring that calypso chorus from 'A man dies' which I learned as a student in Bristol back in 1963.

'Gentle Christ, wise and good

They nailed him to a cross of wood.

The Son of God, he came to save

With borrowed stable and borrowed grave.'

Classic Car Funeral

Monday morning, I tidied the house, cooked lunch for Clare, then collected her from her train at half past midday. Later, a phone call from Kath revealed that Rhiannon had passed her Grade Three flute exam 'with merit', which she took the day Clare arrived. It's lovely to see her making good progress and following in her mother's footsteps. She was learning flute at Rhiannon's age, and still uses it to play occasional solos, as well as singing with their Latino band 'Sonrisa'. On one occasion, Rhiannon was out at a gig with them, and played a solo of her own, much to everyone's delight, and was perhaps less nervous about being on stage than in an examination studio. She just loves performing.

Tuesday morning, I took the car in for a belated MOT, as its tax is due for renewal by the end of the month. Then I walked over to Tredegarville School to touch base with the head teacher about their Holy Week school service in St German's and tell her the news about Fr Dean, one of the school's Foundation Governors. I walked from there to the CBS office and used our new on-line banking facility to pay out Ian's tax and salary for March, against a payslip provided by our accountants. 

Then I had a message to say the car was ready, and walked back to the garage to collect it, in good time to get to St German's, where the funeral of a man who was a friend of the previous incumbent, Fr Roy Doxsey was taking place. I'd invited him to join me in taking the service, such a rarity these days for two of us to share a funeral. David had been an engineer and classic car enthusiast. He'd owned and maintained the same MG Midget since he first bought it 45 years ago. His motoring friends turned up in their outstanding vehicles, XK120 and XK150 Jaguars, a Ford Cortina Mk 1, a Ford Capri, a Ford Escort RS2000, a MGB open top, a Triumph TR4, a Sunbeam Talbot saloon, and a couple more I cannot now remember. They reminded me of the collection of Dinky Toy models I'd had of such cars when I was a child. A dazzling display of old cars escorted the cortege from the church to the crem. He would have been delighted. My dear late departed brother in law Eddie would also have taken great pleasure in such a grand display.

I drove home to rest for a couple of hours before attending the evening's Tai Chi and Chi Gung classes. Just before I was due to leave, a lengthy phone call delayed me. Then, as I was rounding the corner into Romilly Crescent, a 61 bus into town was halted by the lights. Impulsively I started to run, although I knew it was most likely the bus would sail past me and the stop about a hundred yards further on. Fortunately, the driver responded to my gesticulations and compassionately halted, some thirty years away from the bus stop to let me on. This took ten minutes off my walk to St Mary's Hall, so I was only ten minutes late, if pleasantly breathless, and warmed up ready for the session.

Patio progress

I celebrated  Mass at St German's this morning with a Tredegarville School class in attendance. Then I visited the school's Early Years section kindergarten and reception classes, to be introduced to the children as a local priest, and provide an opportunity to ask questions about what a priest does. They are really a bit too young to be that curious about one of those unfamiliar people that drop into their classes to be introduced from time to time, but it's lovely to see them with their teachers in their own classroom. I was particularly impressed by the lovely way the teachers and children related to a child in the class who needed extra attention for some reason.

When I arrived home for lunch much progress had already been made in slab laying. All were laid and the boundaries of lawn and flower beds re-fashioned, in about six hours of work. Tomorrow the job will be finished with grouting between the slabs and re-placing the shed. After that, we wouldn't mind a few rain showers, as all the garden foliage is covered with a layer of white dust thrown out by the disc cutting machine used. Already it looks neat, and Clare is thinking about new garden furniture to complete the makeover.

Last week, Clare received a couple of kilos of green cherry tomatoes, being given away free to a good home by the Riverside Market Garden. She transformed them into eight jars of a tasty chutney, then asked if I could take a picture to illustrate the outcome for the market garden website. I did this on Saturday last, and today this was published on-line.

We learned this evening that Eddie is being to be moved from Papworth to Ipswich ICU, much closer to home and a lot easier for Ann to visit him, as it's only a tenthnof the distance she's been travelling this week. Progress sustained, so far, so good.