Pastoral challenge in Ambridge

I woke up after a remarkably good night's sleep in an unfamiliar bed. June was on the phone, frustrated by not being able to get through to her GP surgery to re-order her prescription medications, having failed on Friday as well. She had tried to order on-line but when she reached the prescription page found a message stating that the number of requests the surgery could process that day had been reached and no more could be accepted. It shows how under-capacity an under funded GP surgery admin can become in an urban area of high population density. 

Before I got up she'd gone on-line again to order, hoping to be early enough to be in the prescription processing queue, but this time was greeted with a page error, and unable to proceed. That's why she was trying to reach the surgery on the phone. But the phone wasn't ringing out, though the line is supposed to be open to receive calls from eight o'clock, and it was by then nearly eight thirty.

Shortly after eight thirty, the surgery phone started taking calls, and she was able to place an order which will take until Wednesday to process. It believe it's sent to her pharmacist in Bellevue Road who delivers. Out of curiosity I went on line and quickly found the same page error for the surgery website. A little way down the same search list was another find for the same pharmacy with a logo next to it, and the same page address. When I entered this it displayed a brand new landing page with far too much info displayed and confusing to navigate, as it looked more like the site of commercial business than a GP surgery, but it had the correct address and NHS log, and minor detail to reassure me it wasn't fake. 

I showed it to June, and after a quick glance said it didn't look familiar. I closed the page, did another search and came across the same pages again, only this time the GP surgery landing page didn't appear! There was no error message, the computer just seemed to stall. My first thought was that it was a DDOS attack swamping the website and taking it off line, though I'd seen no error message, so I kept the page request open to see what happened. Ten minutes later, the posh GP surgery web page popped up of its own accord. Then the penny dropped. 

Monday morning is peak demand period for surgeries around the country. Phone lines not open at usual time starting half an hour late. Likely hundreds of people book an appointment on-line any day, but this morning the old landing web home page has been disconnected and the forwarding link to the new page not working or not in place. But the new landing page is up and running and can be googled, as well as the former one. The devil is always in the detail.

Anyway, I was able to figure out how to log my sister's account details in the new system, though it was far from easy, as there's two stage security in place, and it took a while to find the second stage info to complete the access routine. What a rigmarole! Then we had breakfast.

I spent the rest of the morning on a small collection of tech troubleshooting issues, then went for a walk around Wandsworth Common, discovering two lovely ponds with trees and an assortment of waterfowl in residence. I ended up at Sainsbury's to collect a few more items June needed. While I was packing purchases at the checkout, my phone rang. I was Ruth, calling to confirm that I was opening St John's for the Thursday Eucharist. She was concerned about closing up afterwards. I reassured her that I was going to stay for the service and would lock up as well, but with the background noise of the shop it was a rather confusing conversation at first, but we were able to laugh about it in the end.

We ate a very late lunch at four. I had some salmon and spinach fish cakes with peace which were tasty, but too tasty, leaving my tongue with an aftertaste I associate with eating very strong cheese. It's what happen now if ever I eat something which has even a small amount of milk product in the recipe. It had occurred to neither of us that this might be the case with fish cake! Fortunately, this didn't have much of an impact on my digestive process, but the taste of strong cheese was with me for next five hours while I travelled home.

The trains and underground were running normally. The journey from Wandsworth to Paddington took three quarters of an hour, so I had a quarter of an hour to wait before boarding the 7.15 train, enabling me to sit and listen to yesterday's Archers episode on catch-up and then tonight's while other passengers took their seats. An new angle to the storyline of terminally ill villain of the piece Rob Titchner. He has sneaked back into Ambridge to find the Vicar and ask to be baptized, saying he's realized the error of his ways and want to be baptized before he dies. 

It takes the Reverend Allan time to react, and he twice uses the alibi 'too busy' to deal with it directly. Finally he confronts Rob and refuses his request do this in a local parish church where Rob's reputation is known as a former resident and non-churchgoer, also without him going through due preparation. He suggests Rob asks in the Parish where his family home is, given he's just arrived and is renting secretly in a neighbouring village, probably contravening his court order to stay out of the area in any case. 

Rob reveals his reason for choosing to return is that he wants to show village that he's a changed man who had reformed. He says he believes, but what he says is reasonable ground to doubt his motivation, for what matters is his relationship with God, not his social standing. The Vicar's caution is commendable, but it would have been exemplary if he'd queried not Rob's belief in God but the personal relationship which arises from believing. I'll be interesting to see if the mainstream religious commentariat pick up on this and reflect on it in the coming week.

A downpour started as the train arrived in Cardiff, and continued for two thirds of my walk home, so I got pretty wet. Clare had come down with a cold while I was away and went to bed early once we'd greeted each other. I picked up on editing the next edition of Sway after sending and receiving information earlier in the day. I was approaching midnight by the time I turned in after an eventful day.

Getting the timing right

Well, we were promised a seriously hot day, but in the morning it started being cloudy and humid as it has been over the past few days. Then in the afternoon, the sky cleared of cloud and mist and a fierce hot wind picked up. Just the kind of conditions to encourage a fast spreading blaze.

I was up before the alarm saying morning prayer, and ready to go by a quarter to nine. A baptism party of twice the size of the regular congregation was expected at San Pedro, so we were granted the opportunity of using the main church which seats a couple of hundred. It was necessary to bring all our liturgical kit up from the downstairs chapel - not just the communion vessels, but the little electronic organ, the screen and projector to work with Jean's laptop. 

There aren't enough books for an occasion like this so words for worship have to be displayed on screen, but there's no good place where everyone can see, including me. The church is big and voice amplification is vital. I couldn't see the screen and not step out of range of the microphone, so it was an awkward juggle. The font is in a place of its own to the left of the altar. No microphone there, but the parents and godparents had a sheet with the rite of baptism on it, and participated fine. The rest of the congregation had the words on-screen, and it all worked out, although the baptism party, all dressed in white, like the toddler who was the candidate, were rather chatty for most of the service. Nothing I've not been used to at St German's over the years. It all worked out happily as intended, and I was able to slip away at eleven to reach Sotogrande by eleven forty five.

I was greeted with surprise there, as if it was expected I might arrive late due to the baptism. I explained I'd chosen hymns and tailored the readings and sermon to reduce the risk of over-running. This can be done without haste, but it requires extra work, and as a locum pastor I have time to think about this and make an effort to get it right. Great when it works as intended.

When I got back, I cooked some chicken bought yesterday, to go with the last portion of lentil and veg stew. After a high pressure morning, and a satisfying lunch, a siesta was essential. The hot wind was too fierce to think of going for a walk until it calmed down. Except that it didn't. The wind kept blowing, making the house moan with every gust but as the sun went down it turned from a hot wind to a cooling one, which was quite pleasant when I went out for a late paseo along the shore.

Kath is spending the weekend with Clare and has decided to stay on until Tuesday and drive Clare to the airport to catch her flight. What a lovely thing to do!

Heat haze

Just like Britain, Spain has had a dangerously hot weather warning today with a temperature of 32C, but with high cloud and sea mist, we've been shielded from dangerous glare. It's not been too humid. I guess the best word to describe it would be a sultry day. And that's not a word I use all that often. My time was taken up this morning with detailed preparation for tomorrow's christening at San Pedro. 

This was in the church dairy since well before my arrival and I was so busy getting my head around everything needed to carry our my duties here that it only occurred to me this morning that I hadn't talked to the child's parents. An email brought no response, so later in the day I made contact by phone, reassured myself that all was happening as planned. It gave me an opportunity to brief the mother about coping with a fifteen month old who's already running around.

After lunch I drove to Mercadona for some grocery shopping and refuelled the car on my was back. This was a puzzling experience, as I couldn't figure out the instructions on the pump. I asked the young woman minding the till in the kiosk to explain. She spoke quickly with an Andalusian accent, and smiled when I asked her to slow down, which she didn't. She offered to try in English, but I carried on in Spanish, and eventually gathered that one had to leave cash or a card for payment at the till, then the pump is activated. 

OK, I thought, not knowing exactly how much fuel I needed. I handed over a fifty euro note, and the car took that amount, and maybe would have taken more, but I was conscious of  not knowing properly what I was doing. When I returned to get my receipt, the girl handed me five euros and some small dinero, much to my puzzlement. We laughed our way through a Q&A explanation. I'll have to ask tomorrow, but I think this it may be a government authorised VAT refund to lower the cost of fuel, but it could also serve as an anti-theft measure.

I went for a late afternoon walk. The sun shone out through the layer of cloud, so it wasn't too hot. The Playa del Cristo and Playa Seghers were pretty crowded, but not the beaches further west along the bay. I returned to the house falling short of my daily quota. Heat, tiredness, feet painful though not swollen. No virtue in self punishment. I had an hour's call with Clare and Kath who was visiting for the weekend, such a lovely surprise. A simple salad supper of tomato, lettuce, loads of green olives and bread, later than usual, but very light and refreshing. Then, time for early bed. Busy day tomorrow. Too cloudy to stay up and gaze at the Perseid meteor shower tonight. Sad about this.

Post covid catch-up

I woke up early and as it was on my mind, I drafted a wedding anniversary blessing service for a couple I'll meet for the first time at San Pedro this Friday. Fortunately. I have easy access to my liturgical archive files on-line, and I enjoy adapting old material for use in a new situation.

I collected Patricia after breakfast to drive to the coffee morning at Sabinillas. There were only four of us, many people aren't around at the moment. It was cool and cloudy early on and there was a haze over the sea, which made me wonder if my eyes were worse than usual. We stayed for less than an hour, and on the way back did the weekly grocery shopping at Mercadona. Patricia shops for herself and for Rose, as it's a big hassle for her to shop unaccompanied in a wheelchair. Getting someone else to shop for bulk items is preferable for her. When she ventures out with her little car and wheelchair, she likes to be as independent as she can, but that rules out any heavy lifting.

It was time to cook another dish that will last me several days when I got back. I bought some celery, as I remembered an Florentine sugo recipe I saw on a telly cooking programme. Finely chopped onion, carrot and celery cooked in oil before adding tomatoes and mushrooms, or whatever. I wonder if I cooked it for long enough as there was a certain crunchiness about the result, thought this wasn't unpleasant. It'll get some more cooking tomorrow. Great with pasta, meat or fish. Great to experiment.

The one thing I forgot on this morning's shopping list was soya milk, so I had to walk to Carrefour and get some before my sunset stroll along the shore. An email came in about a Christening on my last Sunday here, so before settling down for the night, I responded to the request - another instance of a family catching up on essentials post covid. It's lovely to think these things still matter to some parents, given the drastic decline in Christian adherence across Europe this past forty years.

Celebrations of youth and age

Clare came with me to St German's for Mass this morning, as we were invited to join the parish lunch in the hall afterwards. A special occasion to celebrate organist Brian Williams' forty years of musical ministry at the church. The festive lunch was due to happen this time last year, when he turned eighty but lockdown prevented it. It's second parish lunch this autumn, satisfying the desire for fellowship and feasting so sadly missed in the previous eighteen months. There were over forty of us, even more than those in church, such is the popularity of these get togethers, people bringing their friends and relatives. Just as it should be.

We had the baptism during the service of Prince-Farai Andreas the five year old boy I met a few weeks back. He was dressed all in white - suit, shirt and tie, with a tiny gold cross. Last week he impulsively reached out for Communion when he came up for a blessing, but his mum restrained him. I had a chat with him before the service, once we'd practiced clambering up on to a stool on the font platform, I asked him if he still wanted to receive Communion, and he said yes. I told him that as a newly baptized person he could do so, just like everyone else. Then I took him back to his mum and explained to her what I proposed and he confirmed for himself that he wanted to take Communion, and she was happy with this. 

At the font, he participated in the vows and profession of faith, nodding where he was unsure of saying the exact words. He'd asked his mum about being Christened, and wanted this for himself, not just to please his parents. She'd shown him videos of the story of Jesus and he'd talked with her about it, and then asked about baptism, which he said he'd heard about in school. It's rare maybe, for a child of that age to be so aware and focused within the confines of a child's understanding, but within the experience of the church universal down the ages that young children can be more spiritually awake than adults imagine. I felt confident that we did him justice, even though the road ahead is long and challenging for him, as it is for all of us.

When I gave the boy Communion, he took the host and bit it in half, almost inquisitively, taking his time  to consume, hurried on a little by his mum, anxious about the queue of communicants behind her - 'O taste and see how gracious the Lord is.' were the words that came to mind. Children and the kingdom of heaven! A memory I will treasure as long as I live.

I was reminded, on seeing him nodding his head in response to the vows, of the man in his seventies I baptized in my Halesowen days thirty years ago. A youthful boxing brain injury left him mute, but he communicated to family that he wanted to be baptized before his died. When I administered the vows at the font, he nodded vigorously smiled and gave a double thumbs up to each question. One of those most moving moments, like today, which I'll never forget.

After lunch we returned home, and I walked in the park until sunset turned white clouds pink in a blue sky. We watched ITV's delightful programme 'An audience with Adele' - no wonder she's a global star, so natural, so down to earth, that gorgeous much loved girl-next-door who brings a light to people's eyes. And then, episode four of 'Show Trial', full of surprises which continue to hold attention.

Music in its proper context

I set off to drive to St German's this morning at half past nine, to be sure to arrive early enough to let the RWCMD choir inro rhw hall for an hour's rehearsal before singing the Byrd four part Mass setting and Ave Verum Corpus motet at Mass. Together with the choir there were forty five in the congregation. The whole serve went off without a hitch, and the choir sang remarkably well considering how little rehearsal time they's had. It was wonderful to see their eyes sparkle with achievement when it was over. It was a festive day which everyone took great pleasure in, despite going for for twenty minutes longer than usual. This particular Byrd Mass setting and Motet I recall from Geneva days, and found it very moving to hear sung in an English Victorian Gothic church with the perfect acoustic for renaissance polyphony.

I recorded the whole service on my little digital dictating machine. It wasn't placed in the best position, and when I heard the playback I didn't think it was going to be of any use, but after editing it in 'Audacity' it was adequate for sharing with the musicians. With me learning by doing, getting the edit done took up a couple of hours in the afternoon. I'll probably have another go at it before turning it into a YouTube video.

A mother and her five year old boy were in church. They came while I was away, asking about Baptism for the boy, and came today to fix a date with me. I'm pleased that as the family group is small, they want the christening to be during the Sunday Mass rather than after it. That's a first for me at St German's, and it will be the four I've done since the summer. The little boy was very calm, attentive and well. We went and looked at the font and discussed how Baptism would be done. 

He began to talk with understanding about what was going to be done to him - he told me that Jesus was baptised and he wanted the same. He knew the basic Gospel story learned in school, but also from watching videos of the life of Jesus at home, and spoke simply about Jesus being put on a cross, dying, buried and rising again. It seemed clear that he had taken to heart what he learned and identified with the story. I was amazed by this. Clearly his knowledge was not acquired parrot fashion. This christening will be far from routine, because of the child and his parents, who have nurtured him well.

I got home for lunch a half past one, and  after editing the sound file from the service, went for a walk around the park at four. It was dark by the time I got back. The Taff is swollen and with the amont of rain we're getting, plus wind, it's likely to get higher still.

Clare made a special effort to get some sweets in for 'trick-or-treaters', and we had two visitors doing the evening, utterly charming and polite. Somehow I expected more, and we have several young families in our neighbourhood these days, with the changing demographic.

After supper, we watched a  fascinating David Attenborough wildlife programme called 'The Mating Game', then it was time to reflect and wind down after a marvellous day, moving in many ways. Ziwei Gao has finished her course, and goes home next week. This morning was her first and only opportunity for a non-concert liturgical performance of a Mass setting in the way it was intended to be used. I just wish that I'd made better preparations to record it.

Back to St German's

A slightly later Sunday start today, with a drive over to St German's to sing the Solemn Mass, and then to baptize little Harry, Andy and Michelle's second child. They tried to arrange a christening not long after he was born, but then came lock-down, and now Harry is a lively two year old, held in his mother's arms so that I could pour water over his head and anoint him. It was a special delight. Since covid, they have both changed jobs. He's now a train conductor, and she's in training as a driver on the Swansea to Paddington route. The advantage of both working for the same rail company is that it's easier for them to co-ordinate their shifts, so they can share the care of their children. I was thrilled to meet them again and minister to them and their extended family.

Tuesday this week is St German's Day, but no arrangement was made to celebrate this in advance today, so tomorrow evening's six o'clock Mass will anticipate the feast instead.

It was two o'clock by the time I got back for lunch. Clare hadn't realised that I had a christening as well as a Mass, and started eating, but at least we shared a pudding of banana in chocolate sauce before she had a siesta and I went for a walk in the park before some preparatory work on Carole's funeral order of service.

By the time we had supper it was time for the evening's BBC Prom - the three last Mozart symphonies. I listened to the first, then remembered that I had to write to my GP for a prescription renewal and request a check-up, as I haven't seen any medic since my op. So, I wrote a letter reporting on how I'd been over the past three months, and walked around to the surgery with the letter. Hopefully this will start the process with a telephone consultation tomorrow. 

More ministry upheaval

So disappointing after yesterday to wake up to overcast sky, blustery wind and intermittent showers from dawn to dusk. I walked to St John's and back to celebrate the Eucharist, however, without a soaking, but I had to dress in my waterproofs to go out after lunch. There were seventeen of us for the service. That's the most there's been on a Thursday since we restarted give weeks ago, perhaps the most for several years. It's to core of old faithfuls who are making the effort to come together for worship and a chance to say a quick hello to each other, as they don't have a Sunday service attend at the moment.

Sunday next the new West Cardiff Ministry Area is being inaugurated by Bishop June with an service at the 'Res' in the afternoon. She's also confirming candidates from our Parish (and maybe others) who were due to be confirmed last year, but couldn't due to a covid postponement. Monica, the organist at St John's, is being confirmed, having been raised a Baptist, and there's a class of about a dozen children too. I don't intend to go to either service. after celebrating Mass at St Catherine's on Sunday morning, I'll avoid further social gatherings. I'm due to have my pre-op pre-quarantine covid test on Monday. I'm not in the mood to take extra risks. 

Apart from that, to be honest, I would in any case stay away. I don't see the point of Ministry Areas as an extra layer of organisation between the Deanery and Parishes. I see reason in reverting to the Deanery as a key organisational unit for mission, even for making it into one big team ministry - provided the area a Deanery serves makes sense to serve as a socially cohesive unit in which collaborative ministry can function. 

In some places this can work, but in other places, some territorial revision is called for. Parish and Deanery boundaries are often ancient history on maps. Changing them legally is both time consuming and legally expensive unfortunately. I don't think that inventing a new structure is an answer. In a declining situation it seems un-natural. Rather let nature take its course. 

Church communities die, new ones are born and some are even re-born with the passage of time. Is social engineering the life of the church really compatible with the Gospel? Only time will tell if this novelty proves worth the effort, and what the losses as well as gains will be as a result. My loyalty lies with the worshipping communities I am privileged to serve and to supporting their pastors. My days of grand plans motivating others to engage with change and worrying about the outcome are thankfully behind me. 

After five weeks on sick leave Mthr Frances is re-starting part time, and having a lot of catch-up work to do as the local Ministry Area Leader. It'll be good to have her back, so that there is one permanent priest in the Parish, as Benedict leaves and Emma takes on a secondment to Fairwater until an appointment is made there. There's another upheaval about to happen to, as Fr Phelim over at St German's has announced his departure, to take on the role of full-time Area Dean in South West Birmingham. Twenty Parishes with a total population about the size of Cardiff. 

It's another initiative in managing institutional decline, re-shaping the life of the church with fewer clergy, less resources and still shrinking support. There's not much sign that a pandemic has driven the population back into the waiting arms of Mother Church so far. If decline is turned around into growth, I believe it will be due to lay initiative and activity, not clerical. It may be necessary for much of the church's present structure to fall apart and die off before that can happen again freely.

I was much cheered a few days ago to have an email from Andy and Michelle Evans about the christening of their second child now that it's safer to do this than it has been for the past year. Fr Phelim has agreed to let me take this on, and asked me to celebrate Mass at St German's that morning beforehand. This will free him to get on with necessary preparations for moving to his new job at the end of summer. I am quietly hoping that I'll be asked to spend more time over there during the vacancy. I'd love that.

Crab apple harvesting

I celebrated and preached at St Catherine's this morning, and we had a christening during the service as well. As I approached the church porch, members of the baptismal party were assembling outside and greeting each other. I could hear Italian being spoken, and realised that Nonno and Nonna were here to welcome the latest addition to their family. They'd come from Sardinia to be with their son and daughter-in-law. A good night's sleep meant that I was fully alert and was able to greet them in Italian, without lapsing into Spanish, which is my default second language these days, after five years of daily learning. The ten month old infant was well behaved, and only just started to grumble when we reached the font. Mum held her as I poured water over her head. She went quiet and looked surprised when I did this, and it caused everyone to laugh with delight.

Kath arrived in time for a late lunch. She has an evening's work tomorrow as a 'Dr Who' film extra up in Ystrad Mynach, my home town. The filming takes place in Tredomen, where Caerphilly Council's new offices are located, or the site of a former engineering works. The engineer's office and laboratory, dating the early 20th century was where my mother's father was based when he was an installation engineer at the works. The laboratory was where I had my first summer job as an assistant in a Coal Board pollution monitoring station in 1964 nearly forty years later. That old building still survives, but is dwarfed by the imposing new glass and concrete municipal headquarters.

Clare left early for her monthly study group, so I cooked for us, and then we went for a circuit of the Taff and Bute Park. Near the tennis courts and bowling green on Llandaff Fields are two crab apple trees crammed with brightly coloured cherry sized fruits, which add a splash of vivid colour to trees whose greenery is fading. A lovely sight.

On my walk Thursday afternoon, I gleaned a raincoat pocketful of them within reach on lower branches of the smaller tree. This yielded over half a pound of fruit. Clare found a recipe, then I prepared and stewed them to pulp in a pressure cooker, and strained off the liquid through a mesh bag overnight. With sugar added and further cooking, we ended up with two jars of a delicious spicy jelly.

Kath and I tackled all the branches we could reach on the larger of the two trees, even more densely packed with fruit, and came home with four pounds of fruit. It took ages to prepare them for cooking, and the mass of pulp left straining overnight was the size of a melon.

I went to be early after supper, as I needed peace and quiet to write a special letter of greeting to an old friend from Geneva days, Philippe Chambeyron, who turns seventy at the end of this week. He and his wife Julia, were part of the small group who worked to build the mission congregation at Gingins, and develop the now thriving La Côte Anglican chaplaincy between Lausanne and Geneva.

We've stayed in touch since, but haven't visited them for seven years. Lack of a car when we were in Montreux in summer 2018 prevented us from visiting them at home, due to the difficulty of getting from the train at Nyon to the village of Vésenex outside Divonne les Bains where they live. It was the end of 2000 when we left Geneva. We continued to visit most years even after I retired, but then I started locum duties in Spain and the years simply seem to have sped by since then.

Full job satisfaction

An early start today with a nine o'clock Eucharist at St John's, a ten thirty at St Catherine's and then a two child baptism back at St John's at one, assisted in this by Ruth the Parish Mothers' Union Enrolling Member. There were thrice as many people in church for the Christenings than had been there for the two Eucharists. It says a lot about family and community loyalties towards the couple and their three kids.

The regular routine Eucharistic life of the church fails to inspire the same kind of loyalty. It's not tribal, however, but rests upon commitment to beliefs with a way of life, people are free to choose either to dissent from or adhere to. I shall wonder until the day I die how best to commend this kind of commitment to a choice of habit to all those who still find some kind of significance and identity through the ritual of baptism.

It was nearly two o'clock by the time I got back for lunch. Thankfully, I wasn't totally exhausted after such an active busy morning, but I made the most of a relaxing warm afternoon siesta, and didn't go out walking again. I didn't use the car this morning, but walked from one church to another. By the time I reached home I'd done over two and a half miles. Altogether a satisfying morning.

In the evening I watched an episode of the Italian detective series 'Non Uccidere' (Thou shalt not kill) on More Four's 'Walter Presents' euro movie channel. The chief character is a young female detective Valeria Ferrero, whose strong point is investigating domestic homicides, probing the motives of all involved. Her character reminds me somewhat of Detective Sara Lund in 'The Killing', introverted, independent minded, persistent. Miriam Leone, the actor who plays Valeria won the Miss Italy beauty contest in 2008, so an unusually elegant and beautiful police officer. I'm not sure how this will work out, whether she has enough character to fill out the role, but as there are twelve episodes, there's lots of time for further development.

Rain and two herons

It rained a lot yesterday, and I got soaked twice. First on a return visit to the wound clinic in search of dressings I omitted to ask for yesterday, then in the evening, walking across the parish for a pastoral visit before the christening of two infants a week Sunday at St John's. Such a miserable August. Both my sets of rainwear are old and no longer fit for purpose. It really is time that I ditched them for something a bit more suitable for lots of outdoor walking. I hate walking in the rain, and avoid if possible, but miss the exercise even more.

The weather was kinder today and my early evening walk took me up to Llandaff Weir. The Taff was in full spate and the roar of water over the two metre drop in level was hypnotic, almost deafening. Gulls which normally populate the river course were parked with the mallards in still water above the weir. No sign of the resident heron.

I then walked downstream to Blackweir bridge. As I approached I saw a heron fly up river and take refuge in a riverbank tree. I've seen this unusual behaviour once before by the pond in Dr Jephson's Gardens in Leamington Spa. As I was crossing the bridge, I noticed a second heron, the younger one that I've seen before, standing on housing of the fish ladder. Normally herons prefer the waters edge, but with the water high and turbulent, this bird had chosen the one possible vantage point from which prey might be visible in shallow water pouring down the slope of the weir. They're such solitary birds, that despite there being plenty of room, there'd be no room for two.

As I walked on downstream, about five minutes later, I heard a loud squawking noise and saw what may have been the younger bird flying down river, and alighting at the water's edge on the east bank. Ousted from the fish ladder housing by the older bird I suspect. I wish I'd been there to catch a photo of that little altercation. I've added to my expanding collection of Taff birds here.

I watched an episode I hadn't seen before of 'Endeavour', the Inspector Morse prequel on ITV3 in the evening. The new Danish crimmie on BBC Four I've not been following this time. Maybe I'll watch it on catch-up if we have any more prolonged dreary rainy days.

Emergency stand-in

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

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

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

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

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

Rare liturgical occasion

A drive to Aljambra to celebrate the Eucharist this morning for sixteen people. I was surprised to discover since my last visit that a modest sized marble bowl with a plinth had been purchased for use in the Ermita as a font. It had been spotted in a bric-a-brac/antiques shop. It could have been fashioned for use as an ornamental plant pot, or a holy water stop which might not necessarily be decorated with any religious symbols, but it is just the right size for conventional Christenings, and next Sunday evening we do indeed have such a celebration in Aljambra, inspiring this acquisition.

My first thought was that it should be dedicated and blessed immediately, rather than try and weave this into the Evensong and Christening service to come. How to do this? It was being offered by the Chaplaincy in thanksgiving for the first ten years of regular services being held there. I had to think fast while I was preparing to start the service. The font-to-be was placed immediately in front of the altar. At the start of the service, I improvised a brief act of dedication and sprinkled it with water to set it aside for this unique purpose, then adapted a text from the baptism service to use as a Preface in the Eucharistic Prayer, for the font's blessing and consecration - i.e. give thanks for its purpose and invoke the Holy Spirit to make fruitful its use. 

Perhaps I should explain that hereabouts it's not regarded as essential for every place of worship to have a font. Pastoral offices take place in the Parish Churches. Ermitas like this one, may serve as 'Mass centres', i.e. Chapels of Ease, but are also put to use for other local activities. I've seen them in hamlets where they once served as basic schools and even sheltered itinerant workers before the spread of modern transport into rural areas last mid-century. 

Some Ermitas date from 17th century diocesan outreach initiatives. More recent ones were built as part of housing developments, supported by the local ajuntamiento. Given the shortage of clergy in our times, it's unlikely there'll ever be resident pastoral ministry in new settled areas. Most people now travel elsewhere for work, shopping leisure and church. They are a legacy of centuries of bonds between religious and civil authorities in Spain, and find use as community centres. Some social events may be religious fiestas but, in effect, they are redundant as 'Mass centres' and only occasionally may be used for for funerals. 

Thus regular use and management of under used buildings by Anglican worshippers is welcomed by both church and civil authorities. While they may be equipped with an altar, and a substantial image of Mary and Jesus (more often than a crucifix), there's rarely font, except perhaps in more ancient places where there is a tradition of a sacred spring or holy well. I can't see that adding a font to the church's furnishings is likely to be a bone of contention with our hosts. It is in any case movable and can be stored away if required. I'm racking my brains to remember if I've ever been called upon to commission a new font in all my years of ministry.

Tales of wine

Another drive to Albox-Aljambra this morning to celebrate the Eucharist in honour of Saints Simon and Jude. There was a excellent shared lunch afterwards in church, and an opportunity to talk with people I'd not spoken with before. I had a small glass of an interesting Alto Almanzora Valley wine, named Este from a vineyard west of Albox. The label said it was a blend of 47% Monastrell, 23% Tempranillo, 12% Syrah, 6% Garnacha, 6% Merlot, and 6% Cabernet Sauvignon. Remarkable.

Using six varieties of grape is fairly unusual these days. One or two is more normal, although I've come across Valencian wines which use more. Some regions still have estates where traditional wine making recipes have persisted, or been revived and refined with modern brewing technologies. Using whatever kind of grapes can be grown rather than being so selective, in fermenting is the ancient way of doing it. With mixed results though, not to everyone's taste.

After the meal and clearing up, Lay Reader Duncan took me a cafe in Albox, much frequented by English speaking people, to meet a couple whose baby I'll be Christening at Aljambra in a fortnight's time. Their little eight week old daughter was born with a full head of chestnut coloured hair, and it hasn't fallen out yet. It's lovely to behold.

I stopped at Lidl's in Garrucha on the way back for some food shopping. In the wine aisle I overheard this remark from a Spanish couple: "Si ese vino es de Catalunya, no debemos comprarlo." Mojácar is about five hours drive from the Catalan border, but it seems people all over Spain are unhappy about the events unfolding there. The company has over 500 stores in Spain but seems to be run from Barcelona. It'll be interesting to see what economic impact separatism has on this significant trader in the Euro-supermarket field.

    

Baptismal streaming

There we just over twenty of us for the Sung Eucharist at St John's this morning. A young family came to join us on the occasion of Mum's birthday. They normally attend a Catholic church, but love a sung liturgy in English, so occasionally they come and join us - for a treat!

After a speedy lunch I made my way up to Villars via Bex. Fortunately the road wasn't only busy in places, and only one did we have to stop due to an over sized SUV making passing impossible in a narrow village hillside street. The driver had to reverse uphill for a hundred metres to find a place wide enough to let others through. In Gryon, we stopped briefly in a narrow street while a fleet of classic sports cars drove past. Having completed their runs in the Ollon-Villars hill climb event they were returning to base camp, I imagine. Anyway I got there in just an hour, and had plenty of time to spare.

The baptismal part turned out to be a lot smaller than anticipated - parents with infant and a friend, or possibly she was the baby's nanny. A godmother's flight planned from South Africa had been thrown into chaos by sudden travel restrictions imposed on Zimbabweans in the wake of a recent undiplomatic incident involving the wife of President Mugabe, so she didn't make it. Another was unable to come over in time from California, and grandparents who wanted to be there couldn't face travelling over from Australia. 

Aware this would be the case, I suggested that the couple make us of video phone internet calls to enable the absent to join in. So, they came equipped with a Macbook Air and a couple of iPhones. Five minutes before the service they called participants, each in a different time zone, and established a steady connection for all of them via 4G phone comms links, working surprisingly well up in the Alpes Vaudois at 1,300 metres. It meant that the baptism was audible and visible live on three continents at the same time. 

This is a pastoral first for me, and I was delighted how well it  went and how well it was received without awkwardness by the participants. Baby Annabelle was remarkably relaxed and calm about it all. A couple of years ago, an absent son participated by smartphone in his parents Spanish silver wedding anniversary blessing from his home in the UK. I understand some crematoria and funeral homes in Britain also offer a streaming service, though it's never been mentioned in relation to any funeral I've done. It's great that such technology can help dispersed families to strengthen their bonds of loyalty and affection on such important occasions when distance divides.

The drive down to Bex was busier with traffic, and not as easy as the ascent, since both traffic and the steepness of the ever winding road required a lot of additional braking, to the extent that brake fading set in worryingly, requiring me to stay in second or third all the way down, to stay safe. After all, I didn't need a car crisis to hinder me from officiating at Evensong. I got back to Church House with fifteen minutes to spare before Jane picked me up for the drive to Caux, perched on the side of the mountain 600 metres and 1.5km up a winding road above Montreux.

St Michael's Caux was built as an Anglican chapel and dedicated in 1906 to serve English visitors to several hotels of standing at the turn of the 20th century. It has some lovely Edwardian stained glass, all on angelic themes, which readily serve as a catechetical resource on the biblical ministry of Angels. As if that's not enough to beautify the interior, the apsidal sanctuary has a reredos carved in boxwood, which has an appealing orange brown hue to it. It has bas relief scenes from the last supper and the crucifixion of Jesus in dramatic detail. It was the work of artist Alfons de Wisplaere in Bruges, installed in the year the church was dedicated, as were the windows. Almost all the building and its artwork were the gift of one wealthy patron, Herbert Edgar Reid. 

I was annoyed with myself for having walked out of the house without a camera. I'll have to return properly equipped when opportunity arises. But first, some rest. It's good to know that I can still cope with such an eventful working day, preaching three times as well as taking services. Doubtless I'll pay for it tomorrow.

   

Bute Park lockdown

This morning at St German's I celebrated the Solemn Mass and afterwards the baptism of three year old child. There were three times as many people present for the baptism as there were for the Mass, and it was an effort to get everyone to join in with the responses correctly. Some repeated what I said rather than giving the answers, an indication that they were unused to participating in a liturgical act, or unused to having to follow the text from a service sheet. But, they all behaved respectfully. The child seemed less than used to being surrounded by so many people and being the centre of attention. She looked suspiciously at me when I spoke to her, and cried when poured water over her head in the baptismal act. 

It was one of those situations where the mother came to church after Mass one Sunday to fix the date, but as far as I recall, hadn't brought the child with her. Even though we encourage parents to attend ahead of the service with the child and familiarise themselves with the environment, if its unfamiliar to them, it's impossible to insist, as this is interpreted as rejection. St German's tries to be welcoming and unconditionally accepting of families seeking baptism for their children, and develop a pastoral relationship from that starting point. Being a locum priest means this is hardly possible for me to do. The best I can offer is a positive experience and interpretation of the service as it proceeds.

When I arrived home, Kath, Anto and Rhiannon were there, having arrived a short while before me. It was warm and sunny enough for us to have lunch in the garden, making the most of Clare's fresh bread rolls and special cheeses from the Cheese Pantry stall in Cardiff Market. After a brief siesta we walked to Bute Park and returned through Pontcanna Fields, marvelling at the size of the 'tent city' overflow, and speculating about who wuld occupy it.. 

Preparations for next weekend's UEFA Champions' Cup football extravaganza between Real Madrid and Juventus extend right into Bute Park itself, with a three metre metal wall enclosing a large portion of the space where some of the hospitality marquees have been planted. The Castle grounds are also covered with marquees. Sponsorship and other commercial interests in the two sides playing call for the city to provide this, plus a high level of additional security. It like to think of such exclusive areas as 'back-scartching zones'. 

All roads across town are equipped with heavy duty metal gates for planned road closures and there are gates blocking streets affording pedestrian access to the city centre to permit security screening of shoppers and football fans alike. It hasn't been like this since last year's NATO summit meeting came to Cardiff. It's been months in planning, and isn't a reaction to last Monday's bombing in Manchester. Normal life in Cardiff grinds to a halt when global big business or the war machine comes to town. This is profitable city hospitality, always at the expense of the locals.

Disdain for globalised capitalism didn't, however, prevent us from playing a game of Monopoly after a superb pizza supper, washed down with bottles of German and Italian red wines. It was great fun, and I came last in the scoring league, having invested too much in bricks and mortar. 'Woe unto you who have many posessions ..' I hear you say?
 

Ministry joys and Linux Legacy

Yesterday afternoon in beautiful sunny weather, I caught the bus into town, took photos of the Central Square construction site, then walked down the Taff Embankment to the Bay Wetland Area. There was a couple of Coots with some young chicks swimming on one of the ponds.

I also got glimpses of what I think was another pair of chicks hiding in a reed bed, but they seemed different from the Coot chicks, as their heads were red/orange. Were they moorhen offspring, I wonder? I've seen both kinds of bird down there in the past. With most things ready for our Rhine cruise journey and a sermon prepared, I watched a couple of episodes of NCIS season 13 which I've not seen before. One was about an agent suffering from the theft of his identity multiple times. Quite timely really, given the on-going global ransomware crisis.

I celebrated the Solemn Mass at St German's this morning as usual. Priest in charge designate Fr Phelim O'Hare came with his wife Annette and two sons to meet people and sit in the congregation. We're still waiting for an induction date, however. It now looks certain that it will take place while I'm out in Malaga, Although I won't be at St German's for the final few Sundays of the interregnum, I will take much pleasure in seeing photos of the event, content to have worked myself out of a job at St German's, for a second time in five years.

After the service, the church filled again with a congregation double the numbers for the Mass, there for the baptism of Michelle and her baby daughter Millie. For me it was a great pleasure to complete something which started last year when I officiated at Andy Michelle's wedding in St German's. Out of curiosity, I checked the baptism register, and discovered, much to my surprise, that over past five years of locum duties at St German's, I have performed 23 baptisms, double the number I did in the eight years of my last job as Vicar of St John's City Parish Church.

By the time I got home, after attending the Christening party in the church hall, Clare had already left for a final rehearsal for the afternoon Community Choir Concert at the Fountain Steiner School, but she'd left lunch for me. Once I'd eaten, I sat down to do my daily Duo Lingo Spanish drill, and when I reached the end of it, I nodded off, waking up only just in time to drive to the school for the start of the concert. The programme was an unusual mix of mediaeval secular and sacred music, technically a challenge for the singers. I've been listening to Clare rehearse for weeks, but only hearing everything sung in performance made sense of what I'd been listening to at home, as some of the pieces involved part singing which was dissonant to modern ears. It was an ear opening success, for the audience and for the singers.

After supper, a quiet evening without telly, making sure computers were all up to date, trying to find some files of photographs I'd digitized for my sister three years ago, which she said she couldn't find. It took me a while to locate them, as they weren't in any of my archives. Then I remembered that I'd done the original job on my previous desktop PC, which I left in its usual position on the floor to the left of my desk, rather than decommission and dispose of it. Once re-connected to peripherals, it powered up into Linux Mint perfectly, and within a couple of minutes I'd found the files and copied them to a backup drive. Later, I discovered that I had already uploaded the missing photos to the web, as well as putting them on June's PC hard drive. They weren't missing. Finding them in either place was her problem. Just as well I had an evening with nothing better to do.

When I next have an idle moment, I'll to a timed comparison of booting the machine to a functioning desktop using the now defunct original Windows Vista operating system and Linux Mint. Vista was less dependent on internet connectivity and than its successors, except for anti-virus updating. Mint works just as well with or without internet. When connected and ready to update, it does so unobtrusively and without interfering with one's workflow. So much better than Windows, once you've learned it and made the switch. Time I switched a couple of my machines over permanently to Linux, and retain Windows only where necessary for working with outsiders.

   

Baptism without borders

After this morning's Solemn Mass at St German's, I had another baptism to perform. This time there were two children, a boy of about eight and a girl of about eleven, children of two familiar of Czech Roma people. I remember baptizing the infant of a Czech Roma family on Christmas morning in St James', ten years ago, in the early days when they arrived and settled in and around Cardiff, taking menial food processing jobs to support themselves, and having an easier life of hard work than they would have back home, where they often suffer discrimination. 

I don't know if these families were related to my original one but it was lovely to see a group of ex-pats dressed up in festive attire, making a real effort to have a memorable family celebration - certainly one that the children would find easy to remember in later life. Whilst they spoke Czech among themselves, it was clear most of them spoke English, the younger ones certainly with a measure of pride. After a preliminary briefing by James, everyone joined in the liturgical responses with loud enthusiasm, bright eyed, attentive and smiling. I invited them to say the Lord's Prayer in their mother tongue - some of the younger ones seemed keener to show they could read English from the service sheet with confidence, but when I began, many of the older family members did pray in Czech. In different ways, both were affirming their sense of belonging - to family, to tradition, to this new place they found themselves in.

So often when large family groups come for a christening, it's hard to retain everyone's attention. People talk among themselves and behave in a distracted manner, even if they are trying to behave well. For so many Brits today, being inside a church for an act of worship is an rare experience, alien to them, so they don't know how to behave. Thank heavens there are still people who, no matter what the reason, want to bring their offspring to the font.

The highlight of the rest of the day was watching the final episode of 'Line of Duty'. While I was fairly confident that I'd worked out 'whodunit' when it got under way, the path by which the conclusion was reached was grippingly tense, and required much concentration to keep up with, due to the twists and turns woven into the plot. Brilliantly acted, brilliantly written, and the Twittersphere erupted with praise within minutes of it ending. 

I also managed to watch, during the course of the evening, the first of Alex Polizzi's travel series 'Spectacular Spain', featuring glimpses of Barcelona, Valencia and Benidorm. She even visited Isola Tabarca off Sta Pola, recognisable to us from our visits there. Mind you, to sail to Tabarca from Puerto de Sta Pola, home to one of Spain's biggest fishing fleets without so much as mentioning this, and nearby flamingo inhabited salinas is incomprehensible to me. And not to give viewers a ride through Benidorm and environs, but focus on a game of ex-pat bowls, undervalued the reason why it's such a popular resort all year round.

Polizzi's a charming enthusiastic presenter, but the selection of features relating to each place was a bit quirky and 'pot-pourri', hardly giving a typical impression of such lovely places and leaving a lot to be desired. How I'd love to have a crack at a series of programmes like this one, with the aim of bringing out more of the visual delights and key features of the environment and its rich rich history. 

Keeping the feast

I was grateful for a little longer in bed than usual this morning, as I didn't have an early service before going to St German's, especially as I had a sermon to prepare before retiring to bed after midnight. We were thirty five in church for the Solemn Mass of Easter Day. Such a low attendance is to be expected until word gets around about the arrival of a new Parish Priest, and the establishment of a relationship between a new pastor and the local community. It was, in any case, a joyous celebrations, not lacking in enthusiasm at all.

After Mass, a crowd of more than sixty arrived for the baptism of Skyla, whose mother brought her to church on a Sunday within a day of her birth, several weeks ago. Great-Grandma is a regular attender at church, so Skyla's first appearance was a special moment for the congregation, and her mum kept on bringing her subsequently. I returned home feeling full of the new life of Easter.

Owain came over to join us for lunch and to stay overnight. We had Paschal Lamb, and a lovely bottle of Bourgogne Pinot Noir, one of our favourites. After several hours of idleness following lunch, we had a walk around Llandaff Fields, and later enjoyed the latest twists and turns in this week's episode of 'Line of Duty' on TV before bed.

I'm pleased with myself that for the four main Masses of the Triduum I wrote fresh new sermons, without any need to re-visit stuff in my archives. I'm amazed at how insight comes, thought it may not be a coincidence that the given liturgies of each day have been supported by experienced teams of servers, making it possible for me not to have to divert energy into forms of worship, being comfortable with what the others involved were also comfortable with. Being able to produce an original sermon for the occasions is related to not having to worry about the rest of the service.

    

Palm Sunday and crime fiction

Up bright and early to celebrate the eight o'clock Eucharist at St Catherine's, and Clare came too, so she could have the rest of the morning free to go to Riverside Market, and prepare lunch for an early afternoon visit to her study group in Bristol. I went on to St German's to celebrate Mass. Being Palm Sunday, we began with the blessing of Palms in the church's walled garden, and processed from there into the building. The sun shone and a wren tweeted a commentary during the the Palm Gospel reading. Again the sun streamed into the church wonderfully throughout the service.

Beforehand and afterwards, we had visits from people asking for baptism in the coming weeks. There are seven to baptise in four separate services, and all these will fall to me, as they'll happen before Fr Phelim is licensed and starts working full time in the Parish. I've done more while on different locum duty stints in St German's over the past five years, than I did in eight full years at St John's. There have been more this past years than previously, and the reason for that is not apparent. I wonder if it's a sign of resurgent interest in tradition and custom, after a long period of disinterest. It's certainly not unusual for faith concerns to wax and wane, and skip a generation.

I fully intended to go out for a walk after lunch, but indolence got the better of me, so I didn't. After a few phone calls and emails, I dozed off for a while, and then Clare was home again. I watched an NCIS episode not previously seen, while waiting for 'Line of Duty', which made compelling watching, with a shock ending yet again. So many twists and turns you don't see coming.

My regular diet of crime fiction watching when I have nothing better to do, has made me wonder lately about the significance of the character portrayal of crime investigators.

So many of them are mavericks, some are team players, sort of, but with brilliant bosses, as in the CSI and NCIS series, where the nature of leadership and its qualities is part of what's being explored. In other series, sleuths are sad people, loners, struggling socially, in pain, but all of them have the ability to think outside the box, to see and read evidence differently from others, obsessive as well as brave in chasing the truth, no matter how costly to themselves or others.

These seem like heroic cultural figures in the so called ‘age of reason and scientific evidence’, for they expose weaknesses and disabilities in the way well meaning people and those with vested interests in the status quo interpret, if not select evidence to work with, to suit themselves. The idea that the truth is out there, but hidden. Searching for the truth involves discipline, pain and self sacrifice, also intuition and inspiration as well as experience, learning and skill. Truth may not be what it seems at first sight. This is important, not just in forensic science, and law enforcement, but also in politics and commerce. Recent episodes of 'Line of Duty' and 'Follow the Money', both about uncovering corruption in policing and in the financial world, have made me think about the personal costliness of pursuing the truth.

If I may dare stretch the point, this is equally important in terms of religious truth too, filled as religion can be with hypocrisy, lies, bigotry and manipulation. Some say that’s all there is to religion, yet, there are outstanding people who see truth and reality beyond the superficial crap, who want to take us where we don’t think the evidence leads. The best and most inspiring spiritual and religious leaders and teachers resemble the maverick crime busting heroes I’m thinking of. Perhaps that’s why I enjoy the genre so much, even when it's weird and wonderful, or just super nasty. These detectives may be odd characters, and downright unholy in many aspects of their lives, yet they feel compelled to sacrifice themselves to uncover the truth the evidence really points to. 

There's something comparable to the story of Jesus in this, as it unfolds on Palm Sunday and during Holy Week, when we're reminded that the revelation of God in the midst of outrageous human iniquity and injustice occurs in a context of law enforcement and political expediency, secular and religious.