Taking it easy

Another wet and windy day under a grey sky, but an unexpected promise of warmer sunnier days to come. Having got into bed, I was about switch off my phone for the night and an email dropped from John, the churchwarden of Nerja Anglican Chaplaincy, asking if I would be free for locum duty from Easter onward as the second year of pastoral vacancy commences. How remarkably providential this is! Both sets of my locum duties in Cardiff conclude with the filling of all three vacancies I was involved in covering, and all this March. 

I had wondered if I'd be offered another euro locum, given my age, and the fact that below my generation of clergy there's a greater proportion of retirees who might be interested in serving. Thrilled to be asked again. Immediately I said that I'd be free and willing. When I was asked last year, there was so much to do here that I felt I had to decline. With the gall bladder no longer threatening to spoil my plans, and doubling my expenditure on travel insurance, there couldn't be a better time. John responded positively this morning and is looking for a Low Sunday start date. That means being there from April to early June, a lovely time of year. The next message to drop into my inbox was from Vueling, promoting spring flights. Amazing!

I now need to think about a handover for Parish newsletter publication responsibilities. A six month stint week in week out, has been something of a responsibility, and I'd been pondering on how I could let go of this once clergy vacancies are filled, and train up a successor. It's possible a different approach to sharing information across the Ministry Area will see the end of the Sway digital format at this point. The time to discuss it is now ten weeks before my departure. The handover of responsibility I received was more like an ambush, landing me with something I needed to learn to do from scratch  It turned out OK, but integrated communication between MA churches is too important to be done haphazardly.

I received separate calls, morning and afternoon from the GP surgery asking about my post- op welfare and need for support. It was good to share a progress report, albeit with two different members of staff, one in response to the paper letter from the surgeon, another in response to separate email from UHW. I joked about the paper one arriving first, and it gave me a chance to flag up the disparity in info about cocodamol not being on offer, and then being offered according to the post op protocol on paper. I will never know if this leads to action, but it needed to be said.

Clare battled out in the wind and rain to receive a pair of fine leather boots from Canton Cobblers, and I cooked a veggie butter bean casserole Andalusian style with quinoa. It was OK but lacked a flavouring ingredient I can't identify, but it would have been better with chorizo. Then Clare went out again by taxi to the UHW eye clinic, while I tried to work out from my photo archive when I was last in Nerja (without searching my blog!). Apart from a couple of day visits when I was staying in Malaga, the last locum duty I did there was June 2016. My stay was cut short by the arrival of a newly appointed chaplain, but instead of returning home early, I took the train on a ten hour journey to join the Costa Azahar Chaplaincy for spell, as their Chaplain had left. A marvellous set of experiences altogether.

I didn't have the energy to clad myself with rainwear and wellies to go walking, and stayed at home doing nothing much at all. Clare returned home from UHW on foot. It seems there's been traffic congestion due to the weather for much of the day. No point in waiting for a bus when the roads are that bad. After supper I watched another couple of episodes of 'Bones'. I didn't have the energy to look for a flight to Spain and book it. Nobody can say I'm not taking it easy at the moment. That's what everyone tells me to do after all.

 

Cards mailed

Minus two overnight and extra time under the duvet after an unintended late night. A pancake breakfast, and then a start on assembling Christmas cards and letters ready for posting. By half past eleven I realised I wasn't going to get them all ready in time to go and buy stamps and post them, so I took half of the forty odd batch down to the Post Office, due to close at twelve fifteen. There was the expected queue, but I was served within ten minutes and posted the cards I had with me.

Then I walked down to St John's for their 'Santa's Grotto' Christmas Fayre, containing lots of home baked cakes and pies on one table, a couple of tables for children's toys and another for small gifts. The place was decorated with small Christmas trees and lights, and the refreshments counter was busy. I wandered around, chatted with people, had a coffee, bought some raffle tickets and then returned for lunch.

Afterwards, I completed the other half of the batch of cards, and took them out to a priority posting box which may be emptied over the weekend, if I'm lucky. The second class posting deadline is on Monday. I have a small number of overseas cards to send, and my long list of digital cards. Clare has approved the design I prepared last night.

It was dark when we went out to the shops again looking for tins of evaporated milk for fudge making, as is customary this time of year. I was going to walk in the park but accompanied her to and from the Coop, as the temperature was descending from 3C towards freezing after spells of rain this afternoon. Now the air is no longer cold and dry, but heavy cold and damp, a chilling combination unless a sub zero night and the return of clear skies reduce atmospheric humidity.

After supper nothing of interest on telly, so first I did some work on drafting the Lent Study series I'm proposing for my next locum stint at St Andrew's Los Boliches then sent it to churchwarden Jen. Then two hours reading my latest Patricia Cornwell crimmie, and a short practice of tomorrow afternoon concert music. It's stretched my music reading to the limit, and I have not been helped by a music layout which repeats the lyrics for each part for separate staves, so I scanned the sheets most difficult to read properly and deleted all text except the line I'm singing to make it less confusing. Here's hoping it works.

Safeguarding revisited

I couldn't decide if soreness at the back of my throat over the weekend was due to mild hay fever or a cold developing. When I woke up this morning I had a thick head which felt just like a cold. I can't imagine how I picked this up. It's the first I've had for over a year.

After breakfast I called the daughter whose mother's funeral I'm taking on Thursday. Then I had an email to respond to about wedding blessing arrangements for the service in Sotogrande in the week after I arrive in Estepona. 

Job done, I got as far as vacuuming the carpets and was then distracted from washing the floor by an email offering me a place on a Eurodiocese safeguarding training course in the first week of July. I've waited fifteen months to take the course after having missed the previous one due to a mix up over the time the first Zoom conference started. I noticed the date notification on the confirmation email now has all three time zones covered by Diocese in Europe chaplaincies, clearly labelled, so you have to think about which is your local time when adding it to the diary. 

Last time round, I did the preparatory course work writing a response to four standard questions about safeguarding. It took me a while to track down the archived file, and when I re-read it, saw a number of points which needed to be added or modified. It will be good to complete this course before my next spell of locum ministry starts. Things will have changed over the past two years. 

By the time I'd finished it, was ten to one. Clare was washing the floors, while I got on with cooking pasta with stir fried veg and mussels for lunch. It took me thirty five minutes. Delicious, quite fast food!

The loss of my fit-bit was still bugging me, as I miss it already, and have to carry my phone around with me all the time and use its built in pedometer, not as accurate as having one strapped to the wrist. Why it should matter to me to keep track is really to do with knowing if I've done more or less the right amount of activity in a day, to learn why some days I feel much more tired than others, whether it's natural physical tiredness, stress or maybe a cold, or lacking sleep. It's also about understanding the impact of ageing on my body, and what constitutes a sustainable daily activity level, adequacy not super fitness.

Anyway, after lunch I went over to St German's by bus to search the sacristy and retrace my steps from Sunday, but after half an hour's searching I still couldn't find it. Sad. I'll have to buy another.

This evening, I watched a delightful episode of Springwatch with webcam footage of birds hatchng and chicks growing, plus the birth of some badger cubs, possibly the first time this has been observed and recorded. The programme also showed several warblers being ringed - reed, sedge and Cetti's, all found on a Northumbrian nature reserve. It was lovely to have live close ups pictures of the three different kinds being held briefly after ringing was completed. The differences between them were much easier to see than on the page of a book. Then, the fifth episode of Silent Witness, with more intrigue, deaths and disappearances. Dark dealings between medical researchers and big data companies. The last episode of this new series tomorrow. It's spot the villain time again!

Blessing from a wedding

Heavy rain returned overnight and persisted all morning. The water level in the Taff was up by half a metre when I walked down there later in the day. I walked in full rain gear to St Catherine's for the Wednesday Eucharist which re-started today. There were eight of us present. It was good to hear the old Prayer Book liturgy recited again, even though I know it off by heart. 

Then, I transcribed a few more pages of my Jordan travel journal, about the day we visited Petra. I find it slow going because I used pencil, and the writing isn't high enough contrast to be easily read, due to sight deterioration because of cataracts. I need a strong lamp, but until I can shop for one in a real store, I won't trust shopping for this on line, I need a real life try-out first. For now I make do with a small LED torch. 

Before lunch I went out again to collect this week's veggies from the collection point in Conway Road. Our first cauliflower of the season, lifted straight from the ground this morning was in the bag. When we'd finished lunch, I stripped the cauli of its outer leaves, along with the  dark green leaves of this week's leeks, chopped them fine and pressure cooked them with veggie stock to make a green soup for supper. It was surprisingly flavoursome.

I was delighted to get an unexpected email this evening from Tatyana, at whose wedding blessing to Bruce I officiated in Montreux at the end of August 2018, just as the nightmare of my anal abscess was starting to give me a lot of pain and swelling. Making theirs wedding an Anglo-Bulgarian celebration was a challenge I relished, and I used lots of Slav Orthodox choral recordings to make her family feel at home. It was a big effort but it helped to take my mind off the pain. 

Tatyana was writing to tell me that they now have a baby boy, and she attached a photo of him, which gave me much good cheer. After the wedding she gave me a thank you gift, a CD of the choir she sang with in Bulgaria and a beautiful little Bogoroditsa icon, which has graced our dining room ever since I brought it home. It's rare to hear again from someone you have ministered to transiently, whether here locally or abroad. People appreciate the ministry a priest offers, but in helping them bond with each other in an act of worship, the officiant usually gets left out and soon forgotten in the emotions of the time.

Tonight, the final episode of a short series of unusual archaeological investigations. This time the subject was a cliff top site near South Shields which had been used on and off as a military installation since the nineteenth century until after the second world war. Among the volunteers on the dig were army veterans for whom military archaeology was part of their rehabilitation, and a local military historian. It's a great idea for a TV series, arousing much interest among local inhabitants. I'd enjoy more like this.

Staycation round two, day four

Another dark day, more low cloud and rain, no going out into the garden. Unusually, I had a disturbed night with wound pain. I woke up feeling as if I'd been in a fight. Breakfast and indoor exercise got me going again, fortunately.

I had a lovely exchange of emails with Emma locums officer for the diocese in Europe this afternoon. It's nice to keep in touch. She's mostly working from home, but recently back one day a week in the Westminster office, though it seems it'll change again. The last time I heard from her she was on holiday with family and relatives in Brittany, concerned about the lack of masks and social distancing there out in the countryside. They just missed having to quarantine on return and are now in phase two restrictions where she lives in rural Essex. There's been an infection surge in her relatively low incidence region. It's tough when you've got young kids and they have to be kept home from school as a precaution.

Our conversation got me thinking about a report I haven't got around to writing for her colleague Laura on the complexities of obtaining a Spanish police check. It went out of my mind when I got back from Ibiza, so I set about doing it immediately. It can't be often that a locum in Spain has spent so much time there without obtaining a NIE identification number or a bank account, both are important if you attempt to apply unaided, as I tried to. I learned the hard way. It's best to get the local Chaplaincy safeguarding officer to arrange this in situ. In the end it saved me a lot more pain.

Just after five I had a phone call on my mobile from someone to arrange an appointment for a covid test on 7th Novemeber. I was starting to wonder if I should ring up about this, as there was no information about how to get this done in the hospital information pack, only stating it as a requirement. Given the strictness our quarantine demands, there could be no question of driving to a test centre. A mobile test team member will visit us instead. It seems that a number of them are re-deployed District Nurses. I wonder if it will be someone I know?

Clare surprised me again at supper tonight with a plate of lavabread and smoked mackeral. Yesterday she received a home delivery of fish from Ashton's fishmongers in the Central Market, a complete salmon filleted, plus the bones to make soup with (which we had for lunch today), and the lavabread which both of us love but only occasionally get around to buying.

I watched a couple more episodes of 'The Same Sky' this evening. The characterisation and sinister portrayal of the workings of the Stasi informers and their overlords is chilling.

Quarantine Cymru - day Twelve

Another day of clouds, cooling wind and occasional rain, more like March than midsummer. I woke up early, prayed and listened to Radio Four's Sunday Worship programme with John Bell of the Iona community. He took the witness of Hebrew prophets as a theme, and quoting from prophetic oracles showed how many of the critical issues of their time are much like what we are experiencing today. A good start to the day. Canton Benefice on-line Eucharist started earlier than I realised, so rather than joining in late, I prayed through the service on my own, and later found and listened to Mother Francis' homily.

Then there was an after-church Coffee and Chat session using Zoom, to welcome Benedict our new Assistant Curate, an enjoyable half hour of seeing familiar faces again and saying Hello, especially Revd Emma, Nick and their two lovely kids. Clare alerted me to last Tuesday's on-line meditative act of worship, for which I had videoed myself reading the Parable of the Good Samaritan, without knowing where it would be used. The surprise came at the end, when the last frame displayed the message 'Welcome Home Father Keith'. I was very touched by this.

Later in the morning I had a message from Rosi in Ibiza to say they have alternative arrangements for on-line audio Sunday services in place. It's good to hear they've been working on that. I wonder what I'll find to do by way of new ministry hereafter? Strange to think that the past seventeen weeks of offering worship to church members in Ibiza is the longest continuous spell of locum service I have ever offered, and two of those weeks from here in quarantine. 

It could be the last time I do a Euro-locum, given the vast change in social conditions imposed by the pandemic. In seven of the eight previous years I have spent at least two months a year working abroad. Good to be working at all at my age! If it became possible to resume locum duties in future, a long spell would be out of the question. I'll only go for as long as Clare is willing to accompany me, and that will be less time than I'd like to go for, as she has so many more local commitments than me. I've never minded travelling and staying places on my own, as it's so easy to be in touch daily, but the pandemic has reminded me of my age and vulnerability, and more importantly of the fragility of life's most precious relationships. All to be treasured while we still can! 

Meanwhile, I have tens of thousands of photos and memories of places I've visited and stayed in for longe than I ever would as a tourist. Such a lot to reflect on and give thanks for, while all the time wondering what God has in store for me next.

  

Quarantine Cymru day Ten

Thankfully it rained in the night cooling down the air comfortably, although it did make today more humid than yesterday. In the morning I emailed Dave with Sunday's service and a short appreciative article for the chaplaincy magazine, then continued work on my end-of-stay report. I was about to send it off when an email arrived from Emma the locum secretary I was just about to send it to.

It was an advisory email from the diocese in Europe to locums about preparations which are now necessary before taking on a duty. Changes in private insurance requirements, the possible end of EHIC cover when the UK leaves the EU at the end of this year etc. Another document outlined two main health risk categories was also sent. I don't fall into the extremely vulnerable category, and only fall into the moderately vulnerable because I'm over seventy.

My surgical condition doesn't feature among medical conditions considered a vulnerability factor, unless the long drawn out wait for surgery is now making me more prone to repeat infection. On that matter we shall see. It means I'm able to live a normal life and go out subject to necessary precautions which ought to be taken in any case. That's all I need. My habitual restlessness is subjugated for now, perhaps for good

I emailed the GP surgery this afternoon to check if the results of my swab test had been returned. I had a phone call from my doctor at six, and had a discussion which means yet another course of antibiotics. Clare had to rush around to the surgery at the last minute before closure to pick up the prescription. It seems I'm not clear of infection yet, even if I don't feel sick. I think my immune system has yet to recover fully from all I went through in Ibiza. Perhaps it started much earlier but was slow to build up. Who can tell? What I do know is that I'd be a lot better off if I didn't still have to wait an undetermined time to have the wound closed.

Fascinating to transcribe this evening my account of a betrothal feast in an off-road Cretan mountain village, as it reminded me of something totally forgotten - the singing of a traditional resistance song dating back to the struggle to be liberated from Turkish occupation, if not the Venetians before them.  And right then, in 1967, Crete quietly but stubbornly resisted the influence of the ruling military junta in Athens. The lyrics are bloodthirsty so I was told at the time, and reminded of when listening to that BBC documentary about Cretan music yesterday. Then I thought of our own Welsh national anthem, exalting 'brave warriors, fine patriots shedding their blood for freedom' in its first verse. Romance around the use of violence, rather than regret, persists around the world.

This evening I had an email from my niece Nicky with the text she and Jules had devised for their mother Pauline's funeral eulogy, for me to record. Another little challenge to make the best job of that I can, as I'll be unable to attend, given Wales' recommended travel restrictions, although that my change between now and next Friday. As numbers attending are restricted however, it's much better that Owain goes and represents us, and I contribute by video, not in person.

Getting ready for whatever's next

A succession of late nights writing this past few days, feeding my story telling with new ideas, as I am now working on extensive dialogue that must be part of the narrative. A new challenge. 

We've had a succession of rainy days this week, a nuisance when there's shopping to do, and deciding when to get out and exercise. I finally started working on my application for a diocese in Europe Permission to Officiate. The email notification arrived in mid December, and it's taken until now for me to to get around to dealing with it. 

As I've done such a lot of locum duty in Spain and at four different places, the regulations require that I request a Spanish police record check, even though I wasn't there long enough to need to register as a resident in any of them. There's an on-line process, and I have to submit verified identity documents so that the Spanish national database can be scoured to reveal any crimes I may have committed. My conscience is clear. Only once in five years was I ever asked to show my driving license in a roadside check, and that was because I was driving cautiously on a darkened road I was unfamiliar with. No traffic offence committed! Getting all the required documents together and making sure they are accurate is a detailed task that demands effort and patience. But it has to be done.

In conversation with the diocesan administrator handling the process, I was asked if I was willing to a month's locum in March. Naturally, I said yes. I expect my last round of surgery in early February but not even a provisional date has been offered by the surgical team. I have a pre-op assessment in two weeks, and if all is well, I'll be told then. I haven't failed a pre-op assessment before but that doesn't matter as the process is so inflexible. This prevents me from planning. It's unfair. I appealed to the troubleshooter who's aware of my case and she has asked Mrs Cornish's secretary to flag this up as a priority item. That's as much as I can do, and hope for the best. Once the op is done, I don't anticipate more than a day's recovery, as happened previously. I'm confident that I'll be able to manage the final healing stage, after the past twelve months of living with it. I just want to get on with living normally and ministering abroad.

My daily average walk has increased from from five to seven miles without any goal setting or New Year's resolution. Despite complaining feet, my stamina is gradually improving, although conscious when out among walkers in the park that I'm noticeably slower than younger walkers. I wonder if my pace will ever improve as my endurance seems to these days.

I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. Mother Frances has asked me to cover four weekday celebrations in February, and to celebrate and preach at St Catherine's the week after next. 

Back to Montreux - yet again

Free at last to get on with packing, I had all of Wednesday and half of Thursday, to prepare and pack for my six week stint in Montreux, where it promises to be as hot, even hotter than Cardiff for several weeks to come. It's rare that I don't bother to think about packing a pullover - just in case! As ever I exercised myself over which cameras to take, and ended up eliminating my Alpha 68 and its lenses on the grounds of weight in my rucksack cabin bag. On the outbound journey, it would be necessary to carry a cool bag and a couple of freezer packs to keep the tubes of ointment prescribed by Lt Col Davies at fridge temperature, and this couldn't go in my hold baggage just in case it got lost in transit. The worry I had was about getting the cold package through security. It the event it turned out not to be a problem as the screening staff were very understanding.

Clare drove me to the station for the two o'clock train to Bristol, which was on time. However before it arrived, an announcement was made about the next train to arrive at platform two, which was for Manchester. If the Bristol train had been announced it was before I got on to the platform and before it came in. Most confusing. There's evidently no co-ordination between the team which manages the platform and the announcement broadcast. To compound the error, when the correct train arrived, in its shine new bright GWR green livery, it had no destination panel that I could see, or at least if it had one, it wasn't lit up. There wasn't even a quick printed out notice affixed to the train windscreen or side windows. It could have been going anywhere. How dumb is this!

Anyway I arrived at the airport in good time, and quickly checked in with the new automatic check in system working well. There were long summer queues passing through security clearance at fair pace, so within a quarter of an hour of getting off the buss, I was in the departure lounge. No long after, the phone's EasyJet app issued the first of two flight delay notifications. French air traffic controllers are at it again, unfortunately, holding Europe, not just France to ransom. In the end our flight was an hour delayed, which meant that my train from Geneva to Montreux got in at half past midnight.  

By the time I had something to eat and unpacked, it was two in the morning, and too hot to lie under covers, though not unpleasant. It was nearly ten by the time I surfaced for breakfast. Before lunch I walked to the shops in town to buy additional veggies and a few other food supplies to get start me off domestically speaking. Later in the afternoon I had a visit from the mother of the infant I am due to baptise tomorrow afternoon, to check out certain elements of the service. Her husband's parents and two brothers are driving from Italy where they've been on holiday, to attend the service. Her  family live in Lausanne. He's Swedish and she's Belgium, and all are fluent English speakers. The couple were married several years ago in St John's, so it's a pleasure to welcome them back.

Walking along the flower bedecked promenade this afternoon was such a delight, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. This is my third visit in just a twelvemonth, to a region where I still feel very much at home and alive in spirit. I'm so grateful for the blessing of having so much pleasure in the performance of ministry duties in my old age.

  

Duties concluded, farewells made

I celebrated the Eucharist at St John's yesterday morning, and again this evening at St Luke's to cover for Fr Mark. These are my last assignments of parish duty cover. Walking home after this service, I dropped off three big bunches of church keys at the Rectory, which I've been using during the past couple of months. They're going to be Emma's keys hereafter. Her responsibilities develop over the coming weeks, getting acquainted with the Parish setup in detail. 

Before lunch, I said goodbye to Rachel, who returns to Kenilworth for the weekend to attend a big Festival with Kath and Anto, before they leave for holidays in Spain, and she returns to Arizona. It looks like the next week will be somewhat cooler and wetter as the month long drought comes to an end. Rachel was a little distressed to arrive home to temperatures not much cooler than Phoenix, so she deserves a some more temperate weather. Just being back in a leafy green climate for a month has, nevertheless been a big consolation for her. She's not a hot climate girl like big sister and Dad. 

I couldn't see her off from the bus station, as I had a lunchtime funeral at St John's followed by a burial at Radyr cemetery, next to St John's Danescourt. It's been lovely having her here. I wish it had been for longer, or for good. She's not happy living in Arizona and it's a struggle to get work, so naturally I worry about her a great deal. One day maybe, when Jasmine is old enough not to need Mum around all the time, she'll return and stay.

Apart from her amazing solo gig at the Apothecary, the time she spent last week in Kenilworth in Anto's recording studio was most fruitful. She's returning with two superb music tracks to release and promote. It's 'cast your bread on the waters' time.