Not contagious, but not clear

In an effort to get back to normal despite the back pain, Clare rose early and cooked our usual Saturday pancake breakfast. A cold but bright sunny day, so we both spent lots of time outdoors soaking in the sun, two and a half hours walking in the park morning and afternoon.

I did a lateral flow test before lunch and it turned positive again. When I was down by Blackweir Bridge I met Fran with a couple of her friends and we talked about covid testing. One of them said he was obliged to be in a daily lateral flow testing regime at work. After he tested positive and quarantined for ten days, he returned to work and was told not to do further lateral flow tests for ninety days. 

It seems that certain people get over covid, are well and symptom free, but still test positive for a long while as a trace of infection works its way out of their system, but they are no longer contagious. That sounds like where I am at the moment. It's impossible not to feel like a pariah, but nobody has any control over how their individual immune system deals with this virus.

Thompson's Park has in the past week seen an outdoor shelter extension to the park keeper's lodge turned into a Lufkin coffee stall. It has a simple un-treated timber frame with vertical slatted screens for walls, in the spirit of an oriental tea house. There's room for a dozen or so people to sit inside and chat holding their takeaway coffee cups and cookies, and be out in the fresh air at the same time. I daresay in time a green canopy might be allowed to grow over it, but for now it has a bare modern minimalist look about it.

Nearby, another whimsical Dogs' Trust Snoopy sculpture has appeared. This one is in heavenly hues, decorated with comets planets and stars, and entitled 'Bark Night'. 

I wonder how long these sculptures will survive both weather and curious clambering children? Especially in Thompson's Park where all the yummy mummies hang out with their bairns after nursery and infants' schools finish. 

This evening I worked for a couple of hours on the visuals for the Good Friday service. It's the longest audio-visual presentation I've ever done, and it's going to take a fair amount of time this coming week/ It's just as well I don't have much else booked. When I'd completed the first phase containing twenty seven slides, I felt that was enough to be going on with, so I watched a vintage episode of the Scottish crimmie 'Rebus'. It's not a series I've often seen before so it made a change. Back to St German's tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it.

No let up

A fair night's sleep, and I'm beginning to feel more like my normal self, though not entirely. It seems that for some people even when the virus has been defeated by the immune system, it leaves its calling card, an unusual symptom that comes and goes. I'm going to leave the lateral flow test to the end of today. Opinion states that a week after being infected, the risk of you still spreading infection is much lower, and that after ten days, no matter what your test states (provided that you have avoided others, and the outside chance of re-infection) you no longer need to quarantine and can resume normal duties. Thankfully, this brings me up to the day before Palm Sunday, for which I am booked at St German's. Still, it would be a relief to have negative tests again.

Clare had her osteo appointment this morning, and I cooked lunch ready for her return. She'll still be in pain, but the painful debilitating pressure on the vagus nerve starts to ease once the injury is worked on by someone who really knows how.

I did some more editing work on the Good Friday service, then sent a copy to Mother Frances to check if she thought it fitted the bill. She's pleased with it, so I can go ahead now and organise it with Monica the organist and Andrew. a little later, Mother Francis rang to say Father Rhys has just tested covid positive/ She was wondering if I could cover for him next Sunday, but I explained I was already booked. What a nightmare for her. I do hope she will be able to find a stand-in.

For a second day the Urdd rugby tournament continues in Pontcanna Fields, in cold and windy weather. It was nice to hear bi-lingual announcements from a youthful voice appealing to participants to ensure their rubbish went in the bins provided. It's all very nicely organised. The Goosander colony further down stream from the rugby pitches now seems to be settling in, not visiting. I counted half a dozen birds, two older larger ones parked on rocks, the other four practicing their formation swimming.

President Zelensky has addressed the UN Security Council and shocked members, showing video of the trail of human carnage left by retreating Russian troops. Denounced as fake by Russia's representative of course. He's calling for Russia's expulsion from the UN Security Council. Not sure how that could be done. How do you get around the veto power of China and Russia, two of the permanent five members of the Security Council? A change in constitution or standing orders or what? These are serious times and as Zelensky right says - the Council might as well dissolve itself if it cannot stop Russia now, as it is proving how useless and impotent it is in the face of real crisis. 

Well, it's bed time, and I've tested positive for covid, and not surprised. Getting rid of a runny nose takes a long time with me when a cold or 'flu is passing. My sinuses aren't swollen but just slightly sensitive, as they are from a dose of house dust or pollen. Impossible to know what's happening.

Urdd Rugby fiesta comes Taffside

The symptoms may be milder than yesterday's, fading away apart from the woolly head, but the covid test is still positive on this sixth day since I tested positive. Exclusion from all normal activity continues. So frustrating and disappointing. 

An hour's walk before lunch helped to clear my head somewhat. Yesterday afternoon, Pontcanna Fields was being quietly kitted out ready for an Urdd rugby tournament, sponsored by the Wales Rugby Union, with twenty football pitches marked and extension poles fitted to convert soccer goalposts for use in rugby matches. Today, dozens of games were in progress, many of them between girls' teams. It was a wonder to behold. 

Just think, a thousand boys and girls in groups shouting and cheering, many involved in robust physical interactions, yet with no need for external intervention. I'm not even sure if there was a police van on site, let alone any officers on patrol. An amazing tribute to the quality of youth work for which Urdd Gobaith Cymru - the Welsh League of Youth, is famed for. Credit to the WRU for nurturing sporting enthusiasm and participation. Even though team sports don't interest me much, I'm so proud to be Welsh, 

The tide of indignation against the atrocities of Putin and his gang continues, but who can break the power their lies hold over a hundred million citizens with no access to alternatives to Kremlin propaganda? Already there have been fourteen hundred Ukrainian civilian deaths due to the criminal conduct of this war. What happened in Aleppo and Grosny is being repeated. Previously, the reaction was no more than reproach, and the evil just carry on doing evil if the good stand by and do nothing.

Military strategists are of the opinion that Russia cannot win a long war for lack of trained experienced personnel, let alone equipment. They say Putin must not win for any chance of regime change to arrive as an eventual outcome. What actions can effect a necessary change, apart from economic sanctions and pouring more armaments into Ukraine?  Talk about banning coal and oil trade with Russia is a measure which, if undertaken, could cause suffering for tens of millions across Europe. Would masses of people outraged by what they are learning be willing enough to suffer deprivation voluntarily to achieve this objective?

The most disturbing photograph I caught sight of today on line, showed Putin naked to the waist standing in the baptismal pool of an Orthodox church. I have seen him crossing himself publicly and presumed it was what his granny taught him when he was young. The photo shows him aligning himself politically socially as well as religiously with traditional Russian culture and its aspirations. He claims to have been secretly brought to baptism as an child by his Christian mother, and maybe the photo was of an Epiphany baptismal renewal ceremony. If his faith is important to him, how can he condone the perpetration of such violence in the name of Christ, let alone Holy Russia?

Just before the five o'clock news we had a power blackout. Clare called Western Power Distributors, and learned that, not for the first time, a squirrel had cooked itself on the transformer of the local electricity sub-station. It was all over in fifteen minutes. Quite a quick response, fortunately.

I spent the evening editing the Good Friday Vigil liturgy I've been constructing, getting it down to one hour, with a break to watch this week's new NCIS episode.

Wasted viewing time

I slept quite well last night and woke up at six thinking I had an hour and a half to snooze before listening to 'Thought for the Day'. The next time I looked at the clock it was eight fifteen, half an hour too late to hear it live. I'm most thankful for the BBC Sounds app, enabling me to catch-up. It's go easier and easier to use as it has developed over the past decade. Streaming BBC broadcast content, audio and video began fourteen years ago, and has become very comprehensive and sophisticated beneath its several changes of name and appearance since then. A triumph for free public service broadcasting. I'd be lost without it.

For lunch, I cooked a spicy chickpea and veggy stew with potatoes, then walked for an hour and a half around the Fields. Another overcast but mild day. Outside the SWALEC stadium were were lots of parking stewards in hi-viz jackets hanging about, waiting for cars to arrive and park for which I presume is an evening cricket match. There were no signs yet of spectators arriving on foot. BBC news is driving me crazy, obsessing about tonight's soccer game between England and Germany. Meanwhile, Wimbledon and cricket get relegated. 

It's as if we our faces are being thrust into the hype around the Big Game, as if it represented something significant for the future of the country post-brexit. There's been so many backward glances at the 1966 World Cup final in which England beat Germany. I find it quite disturbing, subtle propaganda surrounding justification for leaving the EU, insinuation that Britain is better than all of them over the Channel, as the heavy price for departure is already starting to be paid, politically and economically. A slow awakening is taking place to the reality of the deceit. You can't fool all of the people all of the time.

We had a call from Owain this afternoon. He's taking a few days of his week's leave making techno tracks with a mate in a recording studio with a view down in Devon, then coming to us to celebrate his birthday on the weekend. At least, that was the plan. His NHS app pinged him for having been in contact with a covid infected person - he thinks it's a vinyl record store owner in Bristol. He now has to self isolate for five days when he returns to Bristol tomorrow, and won't be with us for his birthday after all. We're all disappointed. Another Zoom or WhatsApp birthday party instead, but no means to get a cake to share with him on the day. At least, he doesn't think he's infected, but he'll have to get tested at the end of his quarantine period, before normality can take hold again. What bad luck. 

Since I bought the Honor laptop the Friday before going to Aberaeron and installed the essential apps that I bought it to be able to use better, I've not switched it on and used it, despite taking it with me. Doing a full Windows 10 setup with one's own accounts take time and concentration. On purchase, the laptop was set up for a single user, independently of any Microsoft account, an option when a factory reset is done if you don;t want to commit the device to an account holder with an established file system. The task I have been putting off since setting it up initially was to make the laptop an account holder to the same account as I have on my desktop machine. It took me over an hour to work out how to do this and get it to mirror my desktop. 

I'm pleased with it now. It's quick and has a beautiful crisp display. I can now consider converting my desktop machine to Linux Mint. It will never run Windows as quickly as the laptop unless I change the hard drive for a SSD, I'm not sure how to do that. Besides, it's unlikely to run as fast as a much younger laptop with higher specifications. On the other hand, I've already found at that the desktop will run much faster using Linux Mint, as its not as dependent on high specification hardware. Windows 11 is about to be released, and I get the impression that it may not work or maybe work less well on my desktop device, but I'm confident of a better outcome and a longer life for a five year old machine using Linux. It's a matter of finding time to do the job.

Clare returned from her afternoon walk with four pounds of strawberries, on special offer at the Co-op. After supper I got to work preparing them for cooking, a very pleasant task enveloped in the aroma of fresh summer fruit. Fruit is now stewed, jam tomorrow!

After supper I finished watching 'Time is the killer' - not so much a psychological thriller as promoted as a complex whodunnit with some surprising twists. The whole story could have been told in six rather than eight episodes, to prevent boredom setting in. The worst aspect was actually the implausibility of the central narrative thread, entailing the forcible abduction and incarceration in isolation of an innocent bereaved mother presumed killer for 25 years, without her going insane or succeding in escaping. Worse still, her face has no sign of ageing despite her long grey hair, and she looks acceptably clean and tidy in her secret prison. Totally incredibly ridiculous. And this key element of stupidity was evident from episode five of eight. Pathetic.

Staycation round two, day thirteen

A damp grey start to the day, listening to the Radio 4 Sunday Worship programme, from RAF Cranwell's chaplaincy, appropriate on this Remembrance Sunday, in the eightieth anniversary year of the Battle of Britain. Later on I watched the Remembrance ceremony at the Whitehall Cenotaph on telly.The Queen watched from a balcony above, while her sister, her son and grandson took part in the ceremony below. Prince  Charles laid a wreath on behalf of his mother, and a representative number of Commonwealth diplomats attended. 

It was all beautifully arranged with the hugely reduced number of participants safely socially distanced from each other. Quiet disciplined order give an extra sense of dignity to the occasion. This kind of social demonstration in a time of grave crisis and national lock-down is what characterises the United Kingdom rather than new footage of boozed up crowds thronging the streets of Soho, on the last night before pubs closed for the duration of the latest restrictions.

Beforehand, we logged into Facebook separately to watch the Parish Eucharist being celebrated from the Rectory this morning. Both of us had connectivity problems, picture freezing, or picture running without sound. It was most frustrating and distracting from prayer at a distance. Was this our internet connection playing up or an issue at source? Clare later heard from others on the Parish social network that we were not alone in experiencing this. I wish the Benefice would invest in proper digital streaming devices and a proper dedicated streaming web platform, not just get by with fancy phones and Facebook, which not all recipients trust or like using. It's hardly friendly to new users whose internet usage is limited. 

It's time to get used to the prospect of on-line broadcast services will be with us for the future. Even if the majority are eventually able to return to regular public worship, there will still be housebound people who want to continue benefiting from a local church service in a place they love, in a way they never could before.

My personal phone was switched off for charging for much of the day, and when I turned it on I found a text message from the Covid Test and Trace centre saying that my test was returned negative. Having been symptom free throughout the year, and living in quarantine or under restrictions much of the time for safety's sake, I was pretty confident that I had remained virus free throughout. So now due diligence has been satisfied, the op can go ahead on Tuesday. The text message delivered a code to insert into the NHS app on my phone, which I did, conscientiously, only to be informed in best big government Web-2 graphics that I didn't have the virus. What Ashley would call 'belt 'n braces' info, I think!

In the evening we had a family Zoom call with Rachel and Jasmine to celebrate her 47th birthday tomorrow, and Jasmine's 14th on Thursday this week. I watched the last episode of 'Roadkill' on iPlayer afterwards. I found the ending somewhat obscure. The dodgy popular politician anti-hero makes it to be prime minister and doesn't get the comeuppance he deserves. His mistress dumps him, he owns up to a grown up love child, and his wife who has been party to his secret perversion of the course of justice, withholds the means to a cover-up to keep him on a tight leash, while both enjoy the privileges of life at Number 10 Downing Street. 

It seems each of the characters portrayed in the 'Westminster bubble' has something incriminating on someone else, but don't use it in order not risk losing their own privileges and status. Whether that is truth telling fiction, but it's impossible not to see Boris Johnston as a model for the main character. I wonder if this is a first series with another to follow? Often it seems these days a serialised story ends on a note that allows for the possibility of a sequel, even when one isn't planned.  

Staycation round two, day twelve

My worries about getting the vital covid test were dispelled when had a 'phone call from the mobile test team member after breakfast (Saturday pancakes as usual), to brief me and give an approximate ETA. Two young women arrived at half past twelve, one in nursing and the other in paramedic uniform, both masked and gloved, with the one administering the test wearing a visor as well, and the other holding the necessary disposal bags. Taking the throat swab only took a few seconds, a couple of light touches with the probe either side of the epiglottis, then the disposable PPE kit bundled up into a doubled up bin bag for disposal with our household waste on Monday. Five minutes, all done, such a relief!

I then walked indoors for an hour, and another hour outdoors after lunch. Cold with a thin layer of cloud today with the sun struggling to shine through occasionally, and the sky clearing after dark. People are still letting off fireworks in our neighbourhood. As we are within earshot of the city's rugby, cricket and soccer stadiums (or is it stadia?) it's not so unusual for there to be fireworks after a game. I'm not sure why, three days after bonfire night, when there's nothing much to celebrate about being in lock-down.

When I was doing my daily Spanish language drill on Duo Lingo, one of the ads it served up was a short video about lock-down rules in Wales. I haven't seen it before. It's not unusual to have location specific ads pitched up in between lessons, but this is a very good public health notice - clear, simple, to the point with good graphics. Somebody in the Senedd government is earning their keep!

After completing the second walk of my day's walk, I spent the afternoon watching CNN news on-line, for signs of an end to the agonising wait to know the outcome of the US presidential election. The media don't wait to witness the final formal declaration of an outcome in any state or county, as this can take days if not weeks. There is a complex art to predicting a winner, and if the votes on both sides are evenly matched and it's not evidently a landslide victory, care is taken not to rely on the projection from observed trends until the conclusion is irresistible. 

This moment arrived at about half past four our time, with the results of one Philadelphia County among several replicated a sustained growth pattern which increased Joe Biden's lead, to the point where it could be relied on to say that the lead was irreversible. Then CNN, NBC and Fox News channels 'called' the election in Biden's favour. Trump had already stated that he would be making challenges against the conduct of the election in the most inflammatory way, denying the evidence, refusing to acknowledge the result. Instead he went out for a round of golf. Unprecedented behaviour for a head of state in a democratic country.

It wasn't long before crowds of people of all ages were dancing with joy in the streets in many parts of America, speaking of the end of a nightmare for their country and the revival of common decency in public discourse. Clare received an email from our friend Saralee, a Jewish Democrat activist  in Seattle headed 'Hallelujah! Thank the Buddha!' For her even more hard work lies ahead to repair the damage done to the country, and not only be the impacts of coronavirus and climate change. 

On CNN, one of a panel of four commenting on the results throughout the day, Van Jones an African American spoke spontaneously and movingly with tears in his eyes about what the result meant to him. To have a president determined to treat everyone as equals and reunite the nation, enabling him, his children and his community to walk tall and no longer feel that they are under threat, but respected as people with dignity. He gave voice to the feeling of oppression which many non-white citizens have experienced under Trump. It was painful to hear, and powerful, something I'll not forget in a hurry. 

As soon as Biden is inaugurated he intends to reverse Trump's decision to take America our of the Paris accord on climate change. Clearing climate change deniers appointed by Trump from the corridors of power will take him longer and be fraught with difficulty, but it will make a difference to countries all around the world for America to become part of the solution again, not part of the problem.

In the evening, I watched this evening's double episode of the Danish crimmie 'DNA'. Not exactly light relief, however, as it's all about stolen babies and child trafficking. More emotive stuff, and with a strong tinge of religion about it, partly set in a convent baby home. I good watch however, with subtitles, and dialogue switching between Danish, English, Polish and this week French. Interesting again to see how English is a second language many EC members have in common. 

Staycation round two, day eleven

Glorious sunshine again today, all day. I walked indoors before lunch and outdoors afterwards when it was slightly warmer. Although it looks increasingly certain that Joe Biden has won the US Presidential Election, votes in the remaining key states are still being counted, and Trump, increasingly isolated with his key White House team continues to challenge the likely result by attempting discredit the process. So the wait continues with political pundits and broadcast media working overtime to fill the news vacuum with ephemeral opinions and reactions. It's surreal, like an over the top Netflix drama. 

I decided to email the pre-op assessment team at the Heath to alert them to the slightly bewildering information gap between their team and the Spire's team. It would be good to have some clarification. I got an auto-reply and no follow up phone call. The response said emails were checked daily, but didn't say if that included weekends. I guess I missed today's round. Let's see when I hear, or even if I hear.

Then I had another call from Karen at the Spire hospital to check on when I usually take my medication. From the conversation I got the impression that if it had been a morning op., I'd be asked to omit just the Losartan and take it later. As it's a confirmed afternoon appointment it seems not to be critical. It's something to do with being anaesthetised I think, and not having my blood pressure lowered too much as I go into surgery. It wasn'r an issue on three previous occasions when ops were in the afternoon. The conversation left me with a degree of uncertainty, as I was told it was up to me whether or not I take the Losartan when I get up as usual, or not.

I was expecting a phone call about tomorrow's planned covid-19 test, but none came, I called the surgery at tea time to ask if they had a phone number for the local test centre. When I rang the given number, I got a message stating the office was closed. Will it be open tomorrow or not? No information. How will I know if the mobile testing team has me booked in, as I have no written confirmation. I know better than to trust people promises when they are under pressure. 

More seriously, I have no means of checking tonight. The test has to be done three days before. Not knowing is a worry, What if is on my mind since I learned that the Spire had my home address down incorrectly. Who else has this error replicated in their diaries? I think I'll have to kick up a fuss about this if I don't hear tomorrow by mid-morning, as it would result in my op. being postponed again.