Welsh and proud

This week, St Catherine's chancel is being redecorated, the service was held in the church hall instead and I celebrated with eight others. We agreed, chatting over coffee after that it had been a pleasant experience, sitting in a semi-circle closed by a table serving as an altar. Before the church was built in the 1880s the 'tin tabernacle' had been erected and used an an all purpose mission hall, for Sunday school, and various church groups as well as Sunday worship. 

Its roof has been replaced, not sure about the corrugated iron walls, though they have been re-painted a sympathetic green, with a modern kitchen and toilets added in the new century. The interior is still wooden panelled, and in good repair. It's a nice Victorian period piece of vernacular architecture, often used for location filming on top of its other parochial engagements. The acoustic is good, as well, which actually helps to make it a good worship space. We wondered how long it is since a service was last held in the hall instead of the church.

We chatted until quite late, so when Clare returned from a therapy session and a trip to town, I'd not been for this week's veggie bag, and lunch wasn't ready. She cooked while I went out to fetch it. After lunch I walked over the St Luke's to meet the lady I'd talked to on the phone yesterday, and continue preparations for the funeral of her friend next week. When I returned home I drafted and sent her an order of service to work on, and then we had supper early so we could get to the Royal Welsh College in time for a concert,

This afternoon, St John's City Parish Church hosted a civic service of thanksgiving for all that had been achieved in Wales by people serving together to combat the covid pandemic. The NHS, the military and police, and a host of voluntary organisations, with an emphasis on Wales's ethnic minority population which suffered disproportionately from covid, not least as so many work in the NHS in public service organisations, transport and food retailing. The concert which followed in RWCMD was organised by the Indian Consul in Wales, and was a celebration of good will and diversity. 

It included a College Jazz ensemble, another band of students led by a composer/songwriter of Welsh African, which played her compositions. Then, a wonderful display of classical Indian dancing by two dozen young woman, and to conclude, the Royal Welsh Regiment band's corps of drummers. Just three of them dressed in their traditional dark navy blue uniforms with helmets, pointed like a police helmet. At first I wondered if they were from a police band, but not so. Their drumsticks were illuminated with a red and a blue LED, and house lights were cut while they played, producing an amazing light-show that changed according to the rhythm they tapped out.

There were speeches of course, including one from First Minister Mark Drakeford, who was warmly received when he spoke, telling a few succint heart warming stories, and celebrating the way everyone in Wales, regardless of cultural background pulled together, thinking of others, working for the common good in ways great and small. He spoke about a government anti-racism policy which aims by 2030 to ensure that everyone in Wales has equal opportunities, regardless of their ethnicity. It seems we're the first nation in the world to formulate such a policy. 

We also heard from another speaker that measures taken to limit the spread of covid in Wales resulted in Wales having the lowest death rate, something remarkable considering levels of deprivation in post industrial areas. All attributed to careful monitoring and people making an effort to comply with public health requirements. Yes indeed, such a lot to give thanks for, and to be proud that we've had the extraordinary servant leadership exercised by our First Minister, who has continued undeterred on the government team's collaborative approach which has got us where we hope to go, and is now taking us into recovery, with a new vision for the future. I couldn't be any prouder than I am.

Unwelcome mixed messages again

After breakfast this morning I prepared and printed all my material for the funeral I'm taking tomorrow, then in the afteroon I walked into town, and took photos of construction sites around Central Square, then called into John Lewis' out of curiosity to see what's on offer in the summer sale. It's troubling to see how many more empty shops there are in St David Centre, in the Arcades, and main streets. Restaurants and pubs are open and serving outdoors, but weren't that busy. I guess that the return to office work isn't really under way yet. 

Boris Johnston is promising to end all covid restrictions in England three weeks from now, making mask wearing optional in places where it is currently mandatory. Opinion polls are showing that over two thirds of people surveyed don't approve of this and will ignore this permission. Trades Unions and the Labour party have expressed criticism of his intention. Mark Drakeford isn't promising anything at the moment, sensibly cautious in the light of the spread of the covid delta variant, preferring to rely on a review of the latest Welsh evidence before announcing a lifting of the restrictions. 

People break the rules anyway, and act inconsiderately, putting others at risk. Abandoning mandatory regulations, leaving it to common sense by making safe behaviour optional is tempting providence to my mind. Whatever changes are made I'll maintain the habit to follow the existing rules as best I can for the sake of others. Even a compliant person forgets sometimes. Obligatory rules are a 'red line' challenge to us to stay alert, to avoid getting or transmitting infection.

Owain is out of quarantine now, with no sign of having caught anything. He managed to work out with his 'pinged' social group that the infected person was a visitor without symptoms who only stayed for an hour, and he had no direct contact with them. So all's well that ends well. We look forward to seeing him on the weekend ahead.

We watched a lovely programme about Pembrokeshire wildlife with Iolo Williams. It showed a little of the Cleddau Estuary and Slebeck Park, which has awakened ideas of a visit there when we can. Then we watched a programme on Sky Arts about Iranian culture, which was of particular interest in its portrayal of Zoroastrianism, the religion of Persia before Islam. We were shown its temples, and some of the amazing massive bas-relief rock art of mythical figures dating from the third century CE. 

I was fascinated to learn that a quarter of the world's hundred thousand Zoroastrians still live and practice their faith in Iran, where the religion came into being. The majority are in India, some are in North America. The finally the last episode of season 16 of NCIS, rather odd in that it featured appearances of a ghost of the ex-wife of both Gibbs and Fornell, and an appearance by Ziva warning Gibbs of imminent danger to his life. She's not a ghost, despite being officially dead. Her death several years ago was faked to cover her disappearance.  Or so we were told.

The kind of leadership we need

We were on duty at St Catherine's this morning. Clare read the lesson and the Psalm, I stood at the door, greeting people, taking their names and contact details. We were thirty one adults and three children, and that included a few visitors as well as the regulars. I enjoy the aspect of welcoming people arriving. It's a small thing, but engages the pastor still within me. It was nice to get some positive feedback about my week's reflections too. 

Another cheering thing is the resumption of weekday services this Wednesday, with the familiar liturgical balm of the Church in Wales 1984 Prayer Book liturgy. I find its traditional hieratic language a wholesome complement to the contemporary liturgical creativity I advocated for much of my working life. We have some beautiful poetic modern prayers to work with, but risk losing the simplicity of Western liturgical ethos by elaborating elementary phrases and greetings, adding un-necessarily to its formality. Something akin to taking a simple elegant melody and decorating it with grace notes or melismata. It can enhance, but not necessarily so.

Pope Francis has been visiting the beleaguered Christian minority in Iraq this past few days, and such a memorable and significant visit it's turned out to be. A pilgrimage to the ancient Mesapotamian city of Ur, from whence Abraham, an archetypal person of faith, honoured by Muslims, Jews and Christians, went west to settle in Canaan. He visited the Shiite Muslim pilgrimage city of Al-Najaf for a conversation with Grand Ayatollah Al-Sistani, something his predecessors sought to do, but didn't achieve. 

In his days as the Cardinal Archbishop of Buenos Aires, he became a personal friend of both the Chief Rabbi and Grand Imam of the country. They attended his installation as Pope and accompanied him on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem, so his latest achievement perhaps owes as much to his reputation for inter-faith friendship as it does to Vatican diplomatic effort. St Francis of Assisi is remembered for visiting Sultan al-Malik al-Kamil when his Egyptian forces were pitted against a Crusader army. Cardinal Bergoglio's choice of Papal name is an indication of a source of his inspiration as a world spiritual leader.

I walked around the parks after lunch looking for bursting buds to photograph, but the results weren't very satisfactory in producing decent close-ups, I don't know why yet. With more trial and error I'll get to the bottom of this. As I walked, I listened on my phone to a Choral Evensong broadcast from Christchurch Cathedral/College Oxford. It'd be better if I remembered to take a set of headphones with me. Background noise from road traffic or the waters of the Taff tumbling over the weir easily drown out the gentle sound of singing, audible when out in an open green space.

This evening we watched an excellent S4C documentary on the work of First Minister Mark Drakeford through the pandemic, which included interviews as well as footage shot during cabinet meetings. With an improved set of English subtitles, this bi-lingual programme really deserves be seen on UK wide TV, as it reveals the worst of Boris Johnson's leadership during the crisis as it happened. He's respectful and courteous towards a politician with whom he has nothing in common avoiding carping criticism. He does however express his exasperation at the unilateral approach to decision making taken by Westminster towards the Celtic nations. 

It's no wonder the First Minister is now bold enough to state publicly that the UK Union of nations is in effect broken, and needs re-thinking as a federation. I think he's right. It's a somewhat different approach than Plaid Cymru's advocacy for Welsh independence, which I think is unrealistic, as we don't have a long lived legal system and institutions as a foundation. These aren't easily grown. But who knows, we may have enough Welsh governance to make a start, which could be granted more self determination in a revised partnership with Westminster. Along with the SNP's push for independence, this could become a key issue in the three years before the next general election. Unless of course, the Tories rid themselves of Johnson and his cronies, and install a leader who understands the real mean and value of consultation, reconciliation and unity as leadership aims.

Census impending and lockdown easing notified

I woke up early and uploaded today's reflection before 'Thought for the Day' on the radio, then dozed off again for another hour. A beautiful, if chilly sunny day, perfect for walking, so after our Saturday lie-in and pancakes, we crossed over to Bute Park via Blackweir Bridge, and returned via the Millennium Bridge, enjoying the woodland area for the first time in a year, hearing a woodpecker, seeing an elusive wren and hearing several of them, in addition to robins and tits. I walked the long way round the length of Bute Park half a dozen times in the past year of bridge closure, but avoided the woodland trail because of the mud. After a few days without rain, well trodden paths are firm underfoot, no longer treacherously slippery, a pleasure to walk on again. 

It's good to hear that infection rates continue to decrease, apart from in a few hot spots. The sixth person to be infected with the Brazilian variant of coronavirus has been traced after five days of post-test tracing, made necessary because an incomplete track 'n trace form was accepted. Mercifully the person in question was conscientiously self-isolating and their contacts were identifiable, so nightmare scenario avoided. 

Our First Minister, Mark Drakeford is back in self-quarantine for ten days because he'd been in contact with an infected WAG official - apparently there's been a cluster of people with covid in their workplace, which says something about the fitness for purpose of government offices they inhabit.  Can they / do they really open the windows I wonder? Anyway Mark, who I believe has had the job, is setting a good example by sojourning in his garden shed again.

Our National Census letter arrived in today's post. It's an invitation to take the census questionnaire on-line, with an unique, house specific access code provided. You can request a paper version by 'phone, but are urged to save the government money by going digital. Refusal to fill one in carries a thousand pound fine. A measures to ensure that homeless people are included in the census are based around the range of social service centres and (presumably) mobile outreach teams which provide for them. It's important that the Office of National Statistics has as full and detailed picture as possible of people with no place to call their own.  

We've been wondering if an Easter family gathering will be possible, for an outdoor picnic if nothing else, somewhere between Cardiff and Kenilworth. Monmouth or Ross possibly, if we're allowed to travel that far by then. My birthday is on Low Sunday this year. We'll just have to see if the progress made in curbing infections is sustained. It's impossible to know, however much today's statistics may encourage, we have no idea what tomorrow's or next month's figures will be like.

We watched an interesting archaeology programme this evening about uncovering traces of Lenton Priory in Nottingham, which was destroyed after the dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530 - its monks were executed for treason, and its lands redistributed. The Priory area has long been covered by houses, so the excavations took place in residents' gardens. The modern ground level is two metres above the fragments of the buildings which were identified from an assortment of pottery, bones, a fragment of lead from a stained glass window, cobblestones from a pavement which ran along an external Priory wall. The site of a Lady Chapel extending beyond the sanctuary, also the site of cloister were also identified. On the basis of seemingly slender evidence, an educated guess can be made of what the place looked like, based on knowledge of 12th century Cluniac Benedictine monastic architecture. 

This was followed by an hour of classic laugh out loud comedy from Irish comedian Dave Allen, fondly remembered from fifty years ago. He often poked fun at Christianity, describing himself as a practicing atheist, and there was often a grain of truth in his irreverent mockery. This reminded me of our dear friend David Barker, Owain's godfather, who died thirty five years ago. He'd tell Dave Allen jokes, and would imitate Ronnie Corbett superbly. He was a lovely guy. We still miss him.

On tonight's news feed, intimations that if progress in suppressing covid contagion continues, hairdressers and some non-essential shops will re-open on March 15th. That's great news. I so much need a haircut!

On the record

Another sunny start to the day, with a layer of frost on cars in the street. By half past ten, while Clare was having her on-line jazz piano lesson, I went for a refreshing walk, first around Thompson's Park, then to Llandaff Village, then down to Blackweir and back home in time to make lunch.

In the early news it was reported from health authorities in Yorkshire that they were ahead of schedule with their covid vaccinations and had run out of supplies. It's being said that there are enough supplies in the country to meet the target of inoculating the top four categories of vulnerable people by mid February, but it's a matter of scheduling and delivery logistics. This is much the same as what's been reported here in Wales, except that the Welsh Government and Health Boards have stuck to their measured delivery plan and not run out for racing too fast, to avoid having the vaccination teams idling or stood down. First Minister Mark Drakeford is being harrassed by the BBC for giving honest answers to vaccination questions. It's not the first time he has been targeted for criticism for getting things right, acting in advance of English government moves and publicity.

A letter arrived for me in today's post from CofE's Archbishop's Council, inviting me to register my basic clerical identity details on an English church national database, for public reference. Hitherto, the world has relied on Crockford's Clerical Directory, a respected independent publication which has been around since 1858, and whatever information is made publicly available by each diocese. It's possible for clerics to get left out of either, and be difficult to trace, a concern when it comes to safeguarding issues. The new database will also cover lay church office holders and workers. I'm asked, as I hold a Europe diocese PTO and worked for half my ministry in the Church of England. Church in Wales, as disestablished Province of the Anglican Communion will already have its own database on which I appear as a retired licensed cleric with a PTO. Anyway registration on the CofE database only took a few minutes, then I received a confirmatory email.

By the time I went out for a load of bread after lunch the sky had clouded over and the pavement was wet. I thought the shower was just ending, but as I walked it really began in earnest, and I got quite wet. Not long after I got back, the rain stopped, the sky cleared and the temperature dropped. Another frosty night to come, and no sign of the promised snow down here on the coast.

The wound pain was quite acute for a while this evening. I don't know what to do about it. No chance of getting a wound specialist to look at it without going through the rigmarole of a GP or hospital visit. I'm not sure if a district nurse could do anything other than look at it and recommend a specialist looks at it. They're all so very busy with far worse medical crises to manage, and it's not exactly life threatening. No sign of infection, just sharp excruciating pain sometimes, which takes a while to recover from, the sort of pain that analgesics can't deaden, as it stimulates the vagus nerve, like hitting a panic button. Walking is the only thing that helps. I've done 13km instead of 10 today.

I watched this week' episode of 'Rebecka Martenson Arctic Murders' this evening. I love to see the snow covered terrain and the way it slows life down naturally. Sara observed that Swedes in the north naturally speak slowly, and take time taking with each other, yet when something goes amiss they have very fiery tempers.

The evening news told of a troubling early statistical report on the impact of the new coronvirus variant, and intimations that lock-down measures will stay in place until April. The government has talked about 'following the science', but it's been noticeable how slow the reaction has been to new data, as if needing to soften the impact and avoid inevitable economic impact. It's not worked. Despite vaccination roll-out happening at a remarkable pace, infections and deaths still rise. The situation is not under control, and the tone is more serious and less upbeat than it was (apart from vaccination news), as if the government now using anxiety to motivate non compliant people. I believe that from the outset, measure should have been imposed more strictly so that people would get used to how it inevitably has to be in order to bring the pandemic to an end. 

Staycation round two day seven

The sun broke through the cloud and shone brightly for a while a few times today, but for the rest of the time it just rained. It was never dry enough to be worth dressing up to walk in the garden. I spent several working on my novel in the morning and after lunch with exercise breaks in between sessions. Checking for inconsistencies in the narrative is a lengthy process. I'd hoped to make progress towards the ending, but reviewing a middle section for a fragment of detail, got stuck there with corrections and re-phrasing. It reminds me there's such a lot to do, but it's fun, learning how fascinatingly complex it is, inventing a life story for a fictional character. 

It's All Souls Day, time to remember family members on the other side, especially Pauline, Ivor and Lindsay, all of whom died between March and September this year, and none of them with covid-19 in this most deadly year for the over seventies. The government announced new lock-down plans for the next month in English regions today, in response to rising infection rates. If only they'd acted on advice given by epidemiologists earlier, in the way the regions did. Once more too late. 

The Celtic nations acted independently on expert advice earlier with new restrictions. Today our First Minister Mark Drakeford announced the Welsh Assembly Government's plan to get us through to Christmas without another time in lock-down, though there is an element of lock-out which will annoy residents of borderlands, with an active prohibition of people travelling into Wales without good reason, just for leisure or recreation. I expect London tabloids, and maybe even BBC News presenters will get belligerent about this.

A week in quarantine already, and as it happens a week entirely indoors. No dwelling in the past, no regrets about the present, no false hopes for the future was how Terry Waite described his strategy for living in the moment and staying sane during his four years as a hostage, I think. It works for me too. How did he reach that conclusion? Did someone tell him that as he entered on his mediating Middle Eastern mission - just in case the worst happened, I wonder?   

Darker days ahead

Pancakes for Saturday breakfast seem to come around quicker than ever, weeks slip by at a pace when everyday life routines are familiarly the same. It rained until mid afternoon, keeping us indoors until we donned our wet weather gear and walked around the park in the drizzle. Then it stopped. After a visit to the Co-op to buy phone top-ups for both of us, Clare returned home, but I carried on walking further to maintain my daily mileage. We noticed how much less traffic was on the road for a Saturday, far fewer people going into town to shop with many non-essential stores being closed. 

First Minister Mark Drakeford seems to have committed a rare error of judgement by insisting that the supermarkets shouldn't sell non-essential items during the lock-down period, as so many stores selling clothes and non-essential utilities were obliged to close. All on the grounds of chwarae deg, fair play, not giving the supermarkets an advantage over other retailers. One criticism made is that the ban hands business over to on-line retailers, unfair in a different way. It seems to have caused an outcry from the public, people complaining it stops them from acquiring items other than food and toiletries they need to help them live as normal a life as possible under lock-down. By this evening it seems the First Minister's office is already reviewing the ban.

It was closing time as I reached the gates of Thomson's Park, then I heard a loud whistle being blown by the park-keeper, announcing gate closure, so I walked on to Victoria Park, did a circuit of the periphery and headed back. The sun wasn't yet on the horizon but with low cloud it was already dusk an hour before sunset. The clocks go back tonight. Sunset tomorrow will be at five. I don't look forward to this, especially as overcast weather is going to prevail for much of the lock-down and my self-quarantine.

We watched a lovely programme about the history of Venice by Francisco de Mosto, architect and historian, himself a Venetian, giving a clear account of the impact on the city's fabric and community life of environmental damage due to 20th century regional industrialisation, climate change and mass tourism. The poor quality of life there is driving younger people, the mobile enough to be able move away to live and work, making it into a city with the highest average age per capita in Italy, where one in five people are pensioners. 

Tony Robinson's Scandianvian train journey programme which followed seemed lacking in content and interest. Then I noticed a Danish crime drama simply called DNA was on straight afterwards, and indulged further. It's developing an interesting plot, and has dialogue so far in Danish, English and Polish, the latter being a reminder of how close countries of Eastern Europe are to Denmark, now that all are covered by the EU Schengen agreement. We can't travel anywhere for the time being. It's nice to see a little of what places abroad look like on our TV screens.

Standing up for Wales

I was glad to be able to attend the midweek Eucharist with six others at St Catherine's this morning. From there I walked into town and back for the first time in a couple of weeks, to enquire at the Camera Centre about a better telephoto lens for my new Olympus. I've hardly used the one I bought as its range of view is too limited for my purposes. I didn't find anything to buy, but I did learn something new about optical specifications for Micro Four Thirds lenses I didn't know before.

On Castle Street, the larger section of the outdoor restaurant furnishing has recently been removed, the remainder should be taken out shortly. I wonder how successful  in supporting local hospitality this initiative has been over the period it has been in place. Discussion still continues about whether or not to keep Castle Street traffic free, or how to reconfigure the road layout to create proper and bike lanes.

Building work on the new bus station continues apace. The lift shaft for the apartment block over the bus stations site now reaches up twenty storeys, dominating the skyline. When the building is complete it's going to block a lot of natural light into Wood Street. Newer taller buildings will funnel east-west winds and make the area far less pleasant to walk in. Such a contrast to the more human scale of the street's long gone Victorian buildings, and those of adjacent St Mary Street. I still take an interest in progress made on construction work in the city centre, raking photos as I have done over the past fourteen years. Amazing to think it's been that long since the Grand Redevelopment Plan for the city was conceived and first acted upon.

I got back in just time for lunch, and didn't go out or do much for the rest of the day. Ir was lovely to have an email from Valdo sharing his photos of Aigle and Sierre. The Parish where he lives in retirement has lost clergy due to retirement and no replacements yet in sight, so he's returned to taking occasional Sunday services. He wrote about living with the pandemic and said that the usually efficient health care system is showing some signs of not working properly. 

The Swiss track and trace system seems to be working well, with several different smartphone apps available. Their public health precautions are much the same as ours, with the interesting exception that when small groups of people meet indoors, if they do so for more than fifteen minutes, this becomes a matter of report in addition to date, time, place and names of participants. Useful information if you assume that longer contact time means greater risk. Surprising nobody has thought of this here.

Local authorities in Wales are now to be empowered by the Senedd to prevent people from high infection areas in England from entering Wales, where infection rates are lower, to reduce the risk levels. It seems that twice Mark Drakeford our fine First Minister has asked Boris Johnston to take this measure on the English side and been refused. Fortunately the Senedd has legislative powers of its own to fall back on. He gave a reasoned and lucid account of the reasons for this faced with a BBC news interlocutor who to my mind was faintly hostile in his questioning. A typical London establishment journalist.

After centuries of having its natural wealth leeched from it by central government, Wales will never be in a position to be an independent nation, but the case for increased regional autonomy and having mote power devolved to the Principality gets stronger by the day, when government from Westminster fails to act in the best interests of Welsh citizens.

Adverse conditions

After very heavy rain Thursday night, I walked down to Blackweir Bridge to inspect the river level and found that it was a few inches short of overflowing on to the path and still rising. There was more rain during Friday and I got very wet, with soaked shoes, despite wearing my new rain jacket and rain trousers. It was a struggle to make my daily mileage target.

I received a letter from First Minister Mark Drakeford AM in response to mine sent to him on 4th February. His response merely re-iterated information I have already received from the Patient Care Co-ordinator, nothing more. My really essential question to the Welsh government about the way patients are kept waiting for treatment is why it's impossible to get any more than a minimum of general information. I will write to him again.

In any other public service with a waiting list, clients are given a ticket and there's an information display which indicates where they are in a queue. If managing the queue is halted for any reason, an explanation my be offered. Keeping people in the dark causes anxiety and doesn't generate good-will. Coronavirus experts are saying how it's the the public's benefit to give as much information as possible and treat people as if they can handle this responsibly as it's in everyone's best interests. Too much power is being exercise with too little accountability by everyone in public service, and it's set to get worse, given the appalling behaviour of Boris Johnson's government.

We had supper at Stefano's Restaurant this evening. It's always a pleasant and sociable experience. We were saddened to learn that its' closing down at the beginning of May. The property, owned by the family has been given planning permission to be turned into a couple of flats. It will, in the long term provide them with a steady stable income for less effort. The family has done business in the property and catering sectors of the market for half a century with considerable success. I guess retirement must be on the cards for someone.