Pêcheurs du Lac Léman

Although the square next to Montreux's market hall is now entirely clear of remaining construction material following the long slow dismantling of Christmas Market temporary structures, I noticed yesterday afternoon that the Market Hall itself was still host to several temporary structures, so I went across and investigated what was there, and discovered a patinoire had been set up under cover of its permanent wrought iron structure. 

This particular skating rink was unlike one I'd ever seen before with a smooth polymer surface, on which ordinary ice skates could be used. Wearing safety gloves was an obligatory requirement to avoid unpleasant injuries. I know artificial indoor ski slopes have existed for the past half century, and I remember their polymer surface resembled a carpet of fine bristles, though that had probably become more sophisticated with the passage of time. It would certainly be cheaper to run than one with an ice surface, and especially in a milder winter lakeside climate. Towns and villages higher up in the mountains can rely on averagely lower temperatures to make maintenance of an ice surfaced rink cost effective. It's seven years or so now since I last tried ice skating with the grandchildren. I wasn't tempted to try this alternative, as I feel over protective towards my knee joints these days, and the same for skiing too, which I used to love. 

Walking into town alongside the lake, I noticed for the first time a motorboat off-shore equipped with a couple of lightweight mechanical hoisting devices. I could hear the whine of battery powered motors clearly across the water. A couple of fishermen were out inspecting nets and collecting their catch. This made me think of Valdo's son-in-law is a lake fisherman, based near Nyon. Earning a living entirely from catching lake fish is becoming increasingly difficult, due to scarcity, which has much to do with climate change. The waters down at the shallower west end of Lac Leman are warmer than they used to be, which is not so favourable for the lake fish to breed. Waters at the east end of the lake are deeper, and that much colder, in the vicinity where the Rhone flows into it. It's said to take more than eleven years for Rhone water to enter and exit the lake.

Today, I walked up the lake to Villeneuve, the small town at the end of the lake beyond the Chateau de Chillon, which developed in the 12th-13th centuries at the same time as the Chateau. It has a fine Parish Church of the same age, dedicated to St Paul, whose architecture reflects the influence and Cistercian monasticism in this region. There are a couple of long straight streets of old houses with many and varied small shops and cafes, giving it the feel of a village. New housing areas stretch up vineyard covered slopes overshadowed by Vaudois Alpine peaks. It has a lakeside beach and boating marina, plus a working railway station, and easy access to the autoroute. A very desirable place to live, with the tourism hot-spots of Montreux and Vevey a convenient distance away. I bet it's very expensive to buy a house there too!

Beyond the marina there's a short length of canal, which carries excess water from a reservoir called Lac de l'Hongrin 870 metres up in the Prealpes Vaudois. This is home to several small boats, among them, those used by lake fishermen, plus 'La Demoiselle', a distinctive traditional barque lémanique sail boat of the kind used on the lake for centuries, to ferry heavy cargo in the age before steamships. Geneva has the barque 'Neptune' similar to Villeneuve's, and Lausanne has 'La Vaudoise'. There are five altogether, two of them in France voisine. These have been restored and can be seen out and about in good weather.

Along the banks of the canal are a series of privately owned wooden holiday chalets. One of them serves as a land base for the lake fishermen. 

The cost of a locally sourced fish for a favourite regional dish is an eye-watering £46 a kilo, which reflects both real scarcity and increased demand. I understand that much of the produce consumed here is imported coming from Irish or Eastern European lakes.

The road behind the line of chalets leads into la réserve naturelle des Grangettes. It's a large wetland conservation area which stretches across the valley floor, with the Rhone running through it into the lake, and the only one of its kind hereabouts. 

This is a region where migratory species find a respite during long continental journeys, or where they over-winter and breed. I walked a short distance into the reserve and climbed the 20m high wooden observation town. In the field below was a group of half a dozen bird-watchers, with telescopes and cameras, all facing a particular corner for a while before moving on. What they were looking at, or looking for? I wondered. There wasn't much avian activity while I was in the tower, probably the wrong time of day, so I climbed down and set off to walk back to Territet. As I reached the road out of the reserve I briefly saw what I believe was a black heron in flight, said to be a visitor to the  reserve - sheer luck! Also amazing, was to see a roadside hazel tree festooned with catkins, in the middle of January. It was a splendid outing in excellent conditions, a walk of just 9km from the church. Now I've seen Villenuve, next time, I'll take the bus and walk for much longer in the nature reserve. It's bound to be rewarding.

The highlight of the evening, yet again was another double episode of Parisien crimmie 'Engrenage/ Spiral'. Full of socks, twists and turns, it never fails to hold the attention. Even if its revelations are on times distressing and sordid, this feels truthful and not overdone. In the nasty world of crooks and cops, everyone is flawed, compromised or hurting in some way, and seeing justice done is a real struggle, against oneself as well as adversaries.

Quiet Montreux

After a late breakfast this morning, I received a call from the electrician to say that he would come by and fit the replacement boiler thermostat this afternoon. I was eating lunch when he arrived, so he and his apprentice must have eaten (and probably got up and started work) earlier than I. The job was done in ten minutes, and the boiler began to work normally straight away. I was then free to go into town and do some shopping. It's not because I don't have transport to enable me to do one big weekly supermarket trip, but rather prefer to walk and buy what I need a little and often, which is preferable when catering for oneself. This combines nourishment and exercise!

The streets of Montreux are fairly quiet at the moment and apart from weekends the flow of traffic is less dense. It's taken the best part of two weeks to dismantle the lumberjack village log cabin themed Christmas market buildings along the quayside. It's  low season along the Riviera, and only a shortage of skiable snow would lead to an increase of lakeside visitors. Alpine resorts with ample snow are very busy this month, so down here, some restaurants, small stores and gift shops close down and take a holiday.

This week there's an elevated risk of avalanches as temperatures are not as low as they need to be, so snow is somewhat less stable. Zermatt and some other high resorts had colossal amounts of snow dumped in a short time, cutting off roads and railways, making skiing impossible, until the resort machinery could get to grips with it.  

It's rained little this past few day, so the skies have been mostly cloudy with a few sunny breaks. It has meant some beautiful sunsets however, and this evening was no exception, as the lake reflected the orange glow of the clouds. I wonder what it's like up in resorts that are above the cloudbase?

Territet night visitors

I must have been disturbed in my sleep last night, as I woke up just after one, and heard a sharp noise which sounded as if it came from somewhere in the house, something falling down perhaps? Hopefully, not an intruder. I got up and looked around, and returned to bed. A few moments later and I heard the sound of a noisy diesel engine being fired up, not the sound of a car or a lorry, but a generator, right beneath the window, Then it became noticeably lighter outside. I parted the curtains and was amazed to see an array of fire engines outside, bathed in emergency floodlights! 

There were three support vehicles and two tenders parked in the area around the nearest bus stop, and the Avenue de la Riviera, the main road was closed off by parked fire service vehicles. About a dozen firefighters in full kit were at work unpacking and setting up equipment, and by the looks of it, setting up a Fire Command Centre. There was, however, no sight or smell of fire. The roads were dry, so no floods to contend with. I wondered about the possibility of a scaffolding collapse at the old Hotel des Alpes Theatre Ballroom under restoration nearby, or a fire within, but there was no activity over in that direction. So, I concluded this activity was a night time rehearsal for dealing with a major incident, or else a training session on the deployment of new equipment at night.

Having taken a few photos I returned to bed. After half an hour or so the pompiers packed up quietly and left, the generator powering down last, leaving only street lights and the silence of a winter's night, punctuated by the occasional passing goods train. 

A memorable Swiss lunch

There were three of us for the BCP Communion service this morning, and we remembered Christ's baptism. Just before the service, an electrician called to inspect the hot water boiler, which stopped delivering hot water over the weekend. It seems a new thermostat is needed, and has to be ordered.

Afterwards, Jeff and Joy invited churchwarden Jane and myself to go out to lunch with them. First, we walked back from church to their lakeside garden flat not far from the Casino for a drink beforehand. Then we drove to the restaurant and parked near the débarcadière, close to the Hotel Splendid, whose restaurant we then dined in. 

Most other restaurants on the Grand Rue are on the ground floor, and reflect the culinary cultural change which has taken place over the past quarter of a century, with the influx of Italian and oriental restaurants, catering for visitors from all over the world. The Hotel Splendid is up in the first floor, above the shops and other restaurants, and still serves typical Swiss cuisine. I ate saumon truite meunière, washed down with white wine from the Clos de St Vincent vineyard, just above the old town, fifteen minutes walk away from the hotel. This was rather special, and the wine itself it certainly one which a local restaurant can serve with confidence.

I did some shopping before walking back to Church House. In the church car park stood the Subaru Impreza, without its number plates, waiting to be collected for scrapping, since it failed its MOT and is not worth repairing. Such a shame, as it was an entertaining sporty car to drive. Even so, I'm just as happy on public transport and walking around town.

No call came from the electrician during the rest of the day to arrange installation of a new thermostat. The water, however seemed a little less tepid following the electrician's visit. The temperature gauge confirmed the change I noticed. The theromostat still needs replacing, though it's not quite dead.

Parting, meeting and thoughts on homelessness

We walked into Montreux Gare this morning, in good time to catch a train that would reach Geneva airport by eleven o'clock in just eighty minutes. Lac Leman was shrouded in mist with just the snow capped peaks of the Savoyard Alps visible. Enchanting, mysterious, magical. We kissed goodbye at the security check entry, and I was back on a train to Montreux just after one. I had time to shop and cook myself lunch and eat it before welcoming a group of half a dozen church people for tea and cake with topical discussion on biblical themes. It was good to have guests in, to take the edge of being home alone in this large and welcoming abode.

Following the surprise appearance of Natalya at the Epiphany party on Sunday, discussion focused on homelessness, and the image of the Holy Family in exile. The reasons for anyone becoming homeless are generally complex, and it seems that modern life, although it caters so well in many respects, for needy and vulnerable people, doesn't cater for everyone in this kind of trouble. Here in Switzerland, so famed for its hospitality towards exiles and refugees over many decades (it is said, accounting for one in six of the population), there are still people who slip through the net because they are sans-papiers, not registered on anybody's system, lacking residence or work permits, even if they have a passport or i/d card. These do not qualify for social support, and can be eligible for transport as far as the nearest border, where they become someone else's problem.

This may particularly affect those with untreated mental health issues who cannot be fitted into any country's health care programme or budget. This was the case twenty years ago when I was in Geneva dealing with persistent needy individuals from far off places, not fitting into any of the usual categories of refugee or asylum seeker needs. All the expected provisions of care are there for citizens who have maintained an identity, or foreigners who have acquired the right to stay,  but not for those whose mental or social conditions have led them to disconnect from society and slide into anonymity. This is a human concern which knows no borders. I'd love to know who, if anyone is at work on these issues internationally.

Having arrived in the departure hall with the best part of two hours to wait before boarding, Clare found that her flight was delayed by an hour, just as mine was on the outward flight, but she was home again by tea time. She's not a noisy person, but tonight the house seems quiet without her.

  

Chateau de Chillon - an unsatisfactory photo-opportunity

A glorious sunny day, and a morning walk to the Chateau de Chillon for a look around the interior, just CHF10.50 for oldies and a ticket that allows you to come can go as often as you like during the day. It's a marvellous building, set on a rock outcrop protruding into Lac Leman. Traces of Bronze age settlements have been found among the foundations of the 12th century castle keep. It was an outpost of the Dukedom of Savoy at the outset, taken over by the warlords of the Canton de Berne at time of the reformation,  and taken over by the Canton de Vaud in 1798. In each period it was added to or adapted, and its component buildings have had many uses apart from military, as residences or government offices, storehouses, even the Vaudois Cantonal prison. 

Since the 13th century its vaulted vaulted cellar has been used to store barrels of wine harvested from the nearby Clos de Chillon vineyards which belong to the Chateau. You can buy bottles of both red and white at high prices. It's a rarity, and all profits made on the wine go to the restoration and maintenance of the Chateau undertaken by the Fondacion du Chateau de Chillon.  

It's twenty five years since we last visited. At that time, not all the rooms were open due to ongoing restoration work. Now, nearly all the rooms are open to the public, many are arrayed with period style furniture, walls and ceilings authentically decorated. Each room has interpretation panels and educative models to give an impression of people's way of life many centuries ago. It's one of the most visited castles in Switzerland, and I guess we were fortunate not to be herded around the place along with busloads of global tourists on a sunny winter low season day. A delightful experience.

The one setback was turning up with a camera lacking its SD memory card. Only yesterday had I finally filled a 16GB card, in use since 9th September 2016, over 2350 photos, and not all of them worth keeping, but such a hassle to separate the dross from the keepers. I had planned to go into town and buy a new card before going to the Chateau de Chillon, but as the weather was so good we seized the opportunity. 

Having removed the full card from the camera, I then forgot about buying a replacement. Just last week, the spare SD card I carry in my wallet for emergencies since running out on the Rhine Cruise last May, was pressed into use with my new Alpha 68 DSLR camera, and I'd not yet got around to replacing it. I had to use the BlackBerry's phone camera instead, once the HX50's internal flash memory had run out - just six photos. The results were adequate, just. It's not as good as the Samsung Galaxy S3 phone camera, I left re-charging in Church House along with the Alpha 68. You don't always live and learn in my experience. Serves me right. The Chateau is well worth a visit, and I may find time to return, better provisioned.

We returned for lunch and then walked into town to buy train tickets for tomorrow's airport journey, for Clare, who has to return to teach on Thursday , all too soon for the both of us. I needed to buy another SD card as well. I should have bought two, but didn't as I thought they were rather expensive. They are much cheaper on-line, naturally, and when I checked, Curry's are retailing them at roughly the same price in Sterling, so later, I regretted not buying a second. Ah well another day, maybe.

  

Epiphany Sunday feast and an unexpected visitor

There were only two down people present for the Epiphany Sunday Sung Eucharist, and almost all of them came into Church House afterwards for mulled wine and mince pies. Mulled wine was my task. I'd bought some cartons of Spanish Jumilla, as it's good and fruity, and I know it's made use of for gluhwein in parts of Germany. Mixed with about a third jus de pomme, with honey and Clare's spice bags, it turned out well, and was heaty enough in taste not to need fortification with cognac, like the mincemeat. Several people brought food contributions, a pizza, savoury pastries, even an entire Christmas cake left untouched from Christmas festivities. 

While we were getting ourselves organised, several people set to and un-decorated the tree, and put away the Christmas candelabra brackets and other accoutrements which had made the church look so good and seasonally welcoming. Then we had an enjoyable hour of relaxed eating and chatting, with just enough food and wine to go around.

While we were together, we were joined by a young woman who called herself Natalya, born in Russia, raised n France, estranged from her parents since she left home. I think she came into church during or after the service, and then came into the house after the others. She said she was an artist, trying to earn a living from her work. She'd lost whatever job and accommodation she'd had, and had spent several months 'couch surfing' as it's called today, but had been told that she couldn't stay any longer and didn't know what to do next. 

She didn't appear unkempt, like a rough sleeper, but all her possessions fitted into a rucksack and a cloth bag. She was hungry and tired, and grateful for an offer of food and drink. She talked to me and the churchwardens in turn non stop for another half an hour after our guests had left. More than anything she was isolated and lonely, I suspect.

Finding a place for her to stay on a Sunday evening in January was bound to be difficult. She had a French passport but no work permit, therefore no entitlement to social services in Switzerland. Not that there aren't places that'll take in people sans-papiers as they call it around here, but places that do are not quite the kind of places you'd willingly send a vulnerable young woman, who may have had mental health issues or complex life problems, as well as no visible means of support. 

Several enquiries drew the same conclusion, there wasn't a way to find her the kind of help she may need on a Sunday afternoon. After a long conversation with Neil, he took her to his family's ski chalet in the Alpes Vaudois to fend for herself in safety and security for a few days, to afford her an opportunity to work out exactly what she wants to do hereafter. Not the best solution, maybe, as there'd be nobody to keep an eye on her regularly, in case she had other needs. She seems, however, to be a survivor, used to coping on her own. Let's just hope this respite is enough to enable her to look a little further ahead in her life than the evening of each day.

Once everyone had left us, there was still enough daylight time left to go for a walk, so we headed along the lakeside path to the Chateau de Chillon and arrived just as it was closing, so we vowed we would return on the morrow, and walked on as far as the Villenuve lakeside piscine publique, before

turning around. We arrived back at Church House just as the lights of evening began to shine.

Later, another episode of McMafia on BBC One. Still more elegantly delivered nastiness. Not sure if this all adds up to anything to learn from, or is just another filmic outing into the realm of posh melodrama with a Russian accent. Give me gritty sordid 'Spiral' any day.

A foodie Epiphany Day

A wonderful mild clear blue skies Epiphany Day today. We took the train from Territet to Vevey and explored the town, in somewhat more depth than on my previous visit here in September, when I went to a community lunch at All Saints Vevey. 

We went through the Old Town, starting from La Grande Place with its covered market hall and variety of open air stalls, enjoying the extensive zone of pedestrianised streets, as far as the rue du Leman. Then we turned down to walk back along Quai Perdonnet, the lake promenade, hunting for a restaurant for lunch. The imposing modern building at the bottom of the street nearest the lake is a showcase for the Nestle foundation, a museum dedicated to the preparation and consumption of food, called the Alimentarium. We soon discovered that it has a marvellous cafeteria restaurant on the ground floor, open to the pubic, with a straightforward selection of meals for vegetarians and omnivores alike, all using freshly prepared, and for the most part, local ingredients using traditional local recipes or developments of them. Clare had the fish and I had the veggie option and both of us were impressed with what we ate.

Much to our surprise and delight, as we were eating, my dear friend Valdo Richard came over from the other end of the restaurant and greeted us! We spoke on the phone a few days ago and promised to meet when their New Year holiday grand-parental childminding stint was over. He and Ann-Lise stop to eat at the Alimentarium on their long lakeside walks. They take the train down from Aigle to one of the stations along the route du Lac and walk from there. We had coffee together after the meal, then bade them farewell as they continued their recreational trek, and we too walked west on the lakeside promenade for a kilometre or so, before going back into the town shopping centre to look for a few extra items needed for our lunchtime Epiphany party tomorrow. We've invited the church congregation to come in for vin chaud and freshly baked mince pies. And therein lies a tale.

Clare came out from home well prepared, with a small bag of vegetarian suet and some spicy sacks of gluhweingewurtz and a recipe for DIY mincemeat. We shopped for dried fruit, nuts, oranges and lemons yesterday, but failed to find currants. We prepared and cooked up the necessary ingredients, substituting dried prunes, but Clare wasn't satisfied with the outcome, so after our walk we went on a hunt for currants, which we found them in a Bio shop close to La Grande Place. After further recipe adjustments to balance flavours and texture, with currants and another grated apple Clare was fairly satisfied with the result and set about making pastry, using a mixture of flour and ground almonds or hazelnuts, to great effect in the finished baked product. She retired to bed secure in the knowledge that the mince pies would pass muster for our discerning guests, both British and Swiss.

Linux deployed

Another day of showers, though not as heavy as yesterday's. There was still more shopping to do for Sunday's party, so we walked into town and back before lunch. We needed to be back again to open the church, to give access to a guided tour group, telling the story in period costime of la Belle Epoque in Montreux, extending down to Territet with its once prestigious Hotel des Alpes, and links with Empress Elizabeth, aka Cissi, who stayed hereabouts several times in that era, before she was assassinated in Geneva.

After switching on the Christmas tree lights and making an awkward move to avoid knocking off a bauble from a protruding branch, I slipped, fell against the front pew and bumped my head. It wasn't a hard fall or blow, but rather an annoying surprise. Luckily I was still warm and relaxed from the best part of an hour's walk, and so avoided collateral damage, hopefully.

Later in the afternoon, we walked along the lakeside promenade for another kilometre after a stop at the Migros in the Metro Centre to enquire fruitlessly about the lost earring. We looked at a further sequence of animal sculptures made from woven fir tree branches, along this section. All of these seem related to figures in a series of First Nation American tribal stories, with which neither Clare nor I are familiar. It was the first time Clare had walked this part of the promenade, as we didn't get around to it when we were together back in the autumn. We also took time to look at the bronze figures of famous musicians in the Montreux Palace hotel garden. It was just a shame that by then it was getting dark and starting to rain again after several hours respite.

We stopped by the ferry station to check the boat timetable. The usual digital information display had crashed on booting up, for lack of a network connection, and it was displaying lines of boot-up reportage, which indicated the device was driven by Raspbian Linux, an operating system devised to run on the Raspberry Pi series of miniature PC motherboards. It's the first time I've seen this in the wild, so to speak. It's free and open source, and the powerful device can be used to perform a variety of specific computing tasks, driving equipment that monitors, processes and displays information in a tiny computer package that can be built into other devices.

Mince pie making suffered a setback tonight with the discovery that there were no small pie baking trays in the houses. A couple of phone calls however let to Clare obtaining the loan of some trays from Caroline, who will kindly drop them off tomorrow.

  

Mincemeat making

It rained all today today, but despite weather we walked into town to shop at the Migros, to buy some ingredients for Clare to make her own mincemeat, ahead of making mice pies for Sunday's Epiphany lunchtime party. Before heading back to CHurch House in between showers, we stopped for a drink in the Migros small cafe. Later, Clare discovered that she had lost an earring of sentimental value, and after searching through the house, concluded the most likely place and time was when taking off her scarf and hat while sitting in the cafe. Most unfortunate, but we can return and ask if anyone had picked up tomorrow.

In the evening we prepared the mincemeat together, before putting it in the oven to cook, and then watched a biographical documentary on BBC Four about Walt Disney and the business empire he created. This was followed by another documentary on the life and work of the author Sue Townsend, creator of the Adrian Mole character and the series of books she wrote about him from adolescence into adulthood. Like Walt Disney, she didn't have much formal education after secondary school. Both were driven by creative talent in their different ways to have remarkable success against great odds and adversity. Both died in their sixties from cancer, and yes, both were smokers. It's curious, this toxic linkage between smoking and creativity, not to mention drugs and alcohol abuse. 

   

Reunion

Clare made an early start from Cardiff this morning with a six o'clock bus to Bristol airport. I spent most of the day waiting for her, preparing a Sunday sermon, food shopping, preparing a welcome evening meal. 

It rained most of the day. Switzerland is being assailed by storm force winds causing damage and disruption, and although some trains were late, and Clare missed one my minutes, she was only one hour later than our travel estimate. Thankfully the rain stopped an hour before Clare's train arrived in Montreux. It meant we could walk back to Church House so Clare could stretch her legs after many hours sitting on bus, plane and train. 

We walked along the lakeside promenade, and were surprised to see waves breaking over the shore retaining wall, spraying small stones and vegetation all over the path. It's not as if there was a strong wind at this end of the lake causing the water turbulence, but possibly at the other end of the lake 50km away, storm force winds generated a wave effect that travelled the length of the lake against the flow of the river Rhone. It's an amazing environment with so many surprises, not least with the weather.

After supper, we watched a recorded broadcast from Covent Garden of Verdi's opera Macbeth on a French TV channel. The singing was superb. It was a lovely relaxing conclusion to the day.

  

Montreux bank holidays

New Year's day was quieter than a Sunday. It was mild and sunny with clouds until sunset, when it began to rain. In the afternoon I walked the lakeside path as far as the Chateau de Chillon with my camera, and got a decent close up photo of a bird I couldn't identify swimming off-shore. A flock of a hundred or so Scaup were swimming together nearby. This is an aquatic bird I hadn't come across until I identified a few of them among the Coots and Mallards on the rio Aguas in Mojacar back in November. I wonder if the birds live here or are spending the winter here, or just passing through?

In the evening I watched the New Year's Day concert from Vienna, always a favourite, and even more so now we've sailed on the not so blue Danube, seen Vienna, and the Vienna Woods slipping past. It prompted me to take another look at my on-line album of cruise photos, and realise just how little of Vienna we'd seen in our packed day's visit. Hopefuly, there'll be another time.

Then I watched first episode of McMafia inspired by a novel of Misha Glenny. It's a dramatic exposée of the power struggle between different Russian criminal clans. and how this impacts upon the personal life of a second generation British banker of Russian parentage. It's a stylish portrayal of the lifestyle of the super-rich after the manner of the film of Le Carre's 'The Night Manager'. It's complex and a little slow moving, which makes me wonder if it's making sense to me. Early days, however.

Today was another 'quiet as a Sunday' sort of day, being a second Swiss public holiday in a row. It walked into town to see if anything was open, and found several restaurants, cafés and convenience stores were open, not that I needed anything, as I'd stocked up before the weekend. I walked up into the old time, and discovered several old streets and alleys I hadn't found before. I walked back past the ancient Parish Church of St Vincent Veytaux, and took another photo of it with the vineyard in the foreground, now in winter wear, denuded of leaves. The church was open, and the sanctuary was host to an unusual nativity scene.

The figures were cardboard cut-outs, which had been minimally decorated by a local artist who had also written an interpretation of the intended symbolism of the scene from his viewpoint which was displayed alongside the nativity scene in the spacious sanctuary of the church. In common with many other reformed mediaeval church buildings there's almost no furnishing in the chancel and sanctuary, just a simple Communion Table at the entrance. The simplicity of the space is enhanced by stained glass window light. It's a delightful building, with a timeless feel to it, and it's such a contrast to the glitzy cosmopolitan streets down below on the lakeside.

Later, I watched episode two of McMafia. I'm still not sure I've got a grip on the plot-lines, or if I'll have the patience to watch the third episode on Sunday next.

New Year lakeside vigil

Last night, I left Church House at ten minutes to midnight and walked along the lack promenade as far as the Market Square. The skies were clear and there was an unusually mild breeze, making it a very pleasant night time stroll. The first kilometre was almost deserted. It was only when I reached the Casino that a handful of New Year revellers were sitting out on the lakeside wall, drinking beer or bubbly, phoning home or taking selfies with their mates. Most of the socialising was taking place in hotel ball rooms, clubs and the Casino, or else in apartments, on balconies overlooking the lake.

At midnight, people high up shouted "Bonne Année" to people walking below. Few walkers greeted greeted anyone outside their circle of friends. Best of all, church bells rang out for a quarter of an hour. In some communes with older traditions they also ring daily, morning and evening, thanks to a timer and ringing mechanism which makes this automatic. But at midnight, the custodian or the pastor would need to be there and use the manual override switch. No change ringing teams here!

There was no a public countdown with musical animation and no municipal fireworks in the Market Square. It's not surprising, given that the entire area is still occupied by empty wooden chalets and stalls of the Christmas Market, waiting to be dismantled and removed. Many districts around the lake, from Vevey to Villenueve as well as the French side at St Gingolph had displays of their own.

Looking across at the French Alps, I couldn't help wondering what it would have been like to stand here at night in the year before I was born, to look across the lake, with the explosions and fires of battle coming across from the other side as Haute Savoie was being liberated by Savoyard partisans with Allied support. There'll be life long Montreux dwellers some years older than I who remember those times, and the impact it made on the whole lakeside region.

The noise and distant sparkle of fireworks, went on for more than half an hour, and night-time quiet returned by the time I reached Territet. I was so glad to have made the effort to go out and see in the New Year, far from home, and ate a dozen grapes, Spanish style at New Year, before going to bed.

  

Christmastide Sunday at St John's Montreux

Naturally an unlockable key box was cause for concern before this morning's Eucharist, however we lacked for nothing, or so I thought, until I had problems getting the church radio mic to work, even after two changes of battery - a pair of dead ones had been put back in the box of fresh ones, and while was a spell after I left when nobody was living in Church House to keep an eye on charging re-chargeables, the ordinary consumable kind were being used, and don't last nearly a long as those designed for the job. But during an interregnum church leaders and members have to improvise work-arounds when things don't run routinely smooth. They have my admiration!

The other unexpected this morning, apart from me having trouble navigating my way around the complexities of the Common Worship equivalent of a altar Missal, was the absence from the crib of baby Jesus. Where could He be? The church hadn't been open all week, so it was unlikely He'd been taken by a visitor. Who had moved him, we may never know. And to where?

Caroline the sacristan afterwards said that during the Intercessions she'd asked St Anthony for help. Moments later, at the Peace, Jane, who was assistant eucharistic minister for the day, walked over to greet Caroline, and spotted the Christ-child nestling between the arm and the cushion on the Vicar's stall. I sat there earlier without noticing. You could say, my attention was on higher things.

At Communion the choir were going to sing 'Lully Lullay', but choirmaster Peter had a momentary lapse of memory and launched un-stoppably into 'Torches' instead. Having learned the latter for the Carol Service a couple of weeks back, the choir followed from memory, while furtively searching the Christmas folders in front of them for the music. The quick witted organist realised there was an error, and improvised a transposition of the accompaniment from memory, working his way out of the key for 'Lullay Lullay' to that of 'Torches', with a few interesting mistakes en route.

Torches by Philippe Joubert is a piece I learned off by heart at 17, singing in Pengam school choir. The jerky start grabbed my attention, and listening to the odd harmony had me wondering if Joubert had written another harmonised version of the song. It is, in any case, fully of dissonance, slightly reminscent of medieval part songs, but very 20th century. The choir successfully rescued a disaster sprung on them, thanks to musicianship and a strong sense of cameraderie in their service of the church's liturgy. A delight, in spite of itself.

Later, after lunch I walked into Montreux along the lakeside promenade, which was very busy with people from far and wide taking an afternoon walk in the sunshine, voices chatting away in many different languages. At select sites along the lakeside there were fresh sculptures of characters and animals from some Disney movie, I think. These were large wire framed models clad in branches of fir trees, woven together, most imaginatively and skilfully executed. Over the course of the weeks, the greens will die back into russet at different rates, a transformation that will continue to make them worth looking at.

In the area along the lakeside between the Casino and Montreux's boat ferry station, centering on the classic Vaudois covered Market Hall, there's a huge prestigious Christmas market annually. This had ceased and only the bare structures remain for taking down after the New Year Holiday. These are remarkable in themselves, large custom built two storey wooden chalets serving as restuarants or retail stores, in fresh pine. It must have been quite a sight, when they were occupied and trading. On my return walk, I could hear the sound of an alpenhorn drifting across the lake, coming from Veytaux, the neighbouring commune beyond Territet. What more could I ask on New Year's Eve?

On this trip, I have brought my Sony Alpha 68 DSLR camera with me, plus lenses. The extra weight travelling will be worthwhile. It's fast to focus and easy to handle, a pleasure to use, and it produces lovely photos. Even so, it'll take me a while to master, and get the most out of. It's only failing is the lack of a built in levelling display, which both my other cheaper Sony cameras have. It's an odd omission, and calls for a different kind of concentration when framing a shot. All part of the fun, I guess.

This evening, I've been editing and uploading photos, (you can find them here) plus sending email greetings to various people, before walking out to see the New Year in. Thankfully it isn't raining now, but a week of rain is being predicted. Such a shame for Clare and Ann's visit. But now comes the turning of the year, and I couldn't be in a more delightful place. So blessed

  

A very wet Saturday

It rained heavily, most of the night and for much of the day. I occupied myself during the morning with sacristy chores, left un-done since Christmas Day, as key regulars who look after things were away. It was only reasonable to get things straight before they returned for this Sunday's service. 

I'd just started braving myself up to walk to the shops in Montreux when Joy popped into church on an errand and knocked on the door in search of a spare sacristy key. The secure key box in church housing everything needed for access, would not open. The battery operated code number pad had stopped functioning, presumably its battery died without warning in the default 'locked' position. 

Somewhere a physical key for releasing the bolt mechanism was concealed, but nobody approached so far knew were. But, there was a spare sacristy key, which enabled me earlier to enter and do all that was required, except for putting the Communion vessels in the church safe. Getting a specialist locksmith to attend a non-emergency over the holidays, until there was a priest next door to let him into church was unlikely. That's a job for next week. It's possible to manage for the moment.

When she heard that I was about to go food shopping, Joy offered to drive me, as she was headed to the Coop hypermarket the other side of Villeneuve where she could get a piece of wood cut to size for a DIY project at home. Her errand took only moments, so she guided me around the vast retail floor to pick up all I needed, in just ten minutes. Alone it would have taken me an hour! The only thing that defeated me was buying wine. There was such a huge variety of local and foreign wines on offer at such a range of prices, it would have taken me an hour to decide, limiting myself to the inexpensive end of the market. There must have been thirty metres of four tier shelving given to wine. Why so much? The answer is in the location.

The hypermarket is in a retail park adjacent to an autoroute junction, uniquely situated for passing trade. France is 20km away, on the south side of the lake, also 70km to the north, and the way across France to the UK. It's also 100km to Italy through the Mont Blanc tunnel, so it's an ideal place to stop off and stock up after an alpine holiday, before the long drive home. I imagine it'll be very busy after the New Year bank holiday, and the roads everywhere will be congested daily until schools return. Considering the weather conditions, the road network copes well with such high demand, if there's no accidents, then chaos ensues, and the coast roads are as congested as the autoroute. I am none to sorry not to have a car this time around, and obliged to use the regional train if not buses.

Anyway, mission accomplished, I was soon back in Church House cooking lunch, and afterwards finishing a sermon for tomorrow. Only after it began to get dark did I remember that I still needed to go out and buy some wine. It meant walking into Montreux in the rain, but so be it. I arrived in the town centre at five, just as the supermarkets closed down until after the New Year. So, I had to walk further, along the rue de la Gare, and investigate a succession of 'open all hours' convenience stores run by non-Swiss entrepreneurs. Yes, they have them here, run by Arabs, Asians, Portuguese, tightly packed retail spaces offering most things you could need, from eight 'til late. So, I got wetter but returned with a modest supply that'll last me until midweek.

Exceptionally, sometimes big retail stores open in the evenings, but Sunday closing is still the norm and nobody seems to be in much of a hurry to change it. Evidently the Swiss economy is doing well with things the way they are. Bravo, I say, even if it's occasionally inconvenient for some.

On BBC Four this evening, the first double episode of the sixth series of the French crimmie 'Engrenages', entitled Spiral in English was broadcasted. So superior to the last French offering, in which Audrey Fleurot, one of the key actors in Spiral also appeared. The story lines are complex and require attention, but they are woven together with precision. The way in which characters from previous series are re-introduced with allusions to their back stories is understated and well crafted, as good as crime move drama series can get. Yet, a newcomer can start here and now, knowing little and quickly engage. 

Or, am I fooling myself? The relationship between police and judiciary, and the governance of the two is so very different from the British legal system. We tend to be more aware of how the American system works differently from ours, and the French is different again. To be honest, this took me several sets of episodes of Spiral watching to get to grips with. Unlike many crimmies, the interplay between police, judiciary and politicians is as much a part of the drama as following the police investigative procedures and forensic trail. A welcome return to Saturday night viewing, one of the few things that's not boring that I bother with on telly these days.

Return to Switzerland

After a leisurely day of packing yesterday, I woke up to heavy rain. This ruled out walking to the Coach station, so I called for a taxi. The company advised leaving much earlier than usual just in case there was traffic congestion on Cathedral Road, which is usually the case on a normal working day, but being Christmas holiday week, it turned out to be more like a Sunday morning, so I arrived with three quarters of an hour to wait instead of fifteen minutes. Very little was done to prepare bus shelters for waiting passengers when the temporary coach station was established two years ago, so those in place are open to the elements. At least, the early rain had almost stopped and there was no wind, but I was glad to be wearing my old padded ski jacket.

The coach to Bristol Airport got me there dead on time, a ninety minute journey, same as the train and local bus combination, but cheaper and more relaxing despite cramped coach seats, rather like airline ones. I arrived five minutes before the auto-check in system for the Geneva flight was due to start, but was able to check in at a proper desk with a real counter clerk instead. For once, it too me twenty minutes to clear security, though not because queues were long or slow, rather, it was due to me being selected for a random scrupulous check, which entailed emptying my rucksack of all my digital devices including cameras, and everything being put through the scanner. I didn't mind, as there was no rush with two hours to the boarding flight call.

Altogether, I spent over three and a half hours waiting in the departure lounge, as our flight arrival was delayed. The pilot later explained this was their third round trip of four to Geneva for the day. The first two had been flights from Edinburgh, where the airport was still recovering from previous days of snow induced chaos. It could have been much worse. I was relived to get away as planned. I had to wait ages to retrieve my luggage at the other end, as it was in the last of four loads fetched in from the aircraft. There must have been two or possibly three flights arriving in close proximity, as half a dozen if not more of the passport booths in an arrival hall used by budget airlines were busy dealing with a huge crowd, and at a fair turn of speed, given the vital thoroughness of the process. 

By seven I was at the airport train station, buying an abonnement demi-tarif and ticket to Montreux. I had tried to buy on-line last night, but the payment system wasn't working. Never mind, I got a properly printed abonnement in a ticket wallet, which beats a crumpled print-out any time. I didn't have long to wait for a Montreux train, there are two or three every hour. I sat in a carriage which had another passenger from the Bristol flight, and we started chatting, after she'd noticed my cross and asked the reason for wearing it. She told me she attended neighbouring All Saints Vevey Anglican church. In fact, we'd both been at the same community luncheon back in September, when she was still on crutches following a hip operation. Such a small world!

Jane met me at Montreux gare and took me to St John's Church house. By half past nine I was installed and inspecting a fridge generously stocked with enough essentials to get me through the weekend and two days of public holiday that follow here. It was raining, just as it was in Cardiff this morning, only heavier. So pleased to be back again.

   

Winter journeys

Thankfully, only a few inches of snow settled during the night, and the temperature stayed the right side of freezing to stop everything turning to ice, and traffic was running freely, except that the road running past Kenilworth Castle was made impassible for a while by water over-flowing a low lying section of main road still known as 'The Ford', causing congestion elsewhere. Our route out of town, when we left at noon was not at all busy. 

It neither rained now snowed, while we travelled, despite being overcast. By the time we reached the M50, we drove out from beneath the pall of cloud into bright sunshine and blue skies. The weather system producing traffic chaos didn't extent Westwards into Wales, so we were most fortunate to have a trouble free drive, all the way.

I'm glad to have a day in hand to organise myself properly for travelling to Switzerland, as I have an early start on Friday morning, catching the coach to Bristol Airport at nine. No sooner than I've unpacked from our Christmas trip, it's time to get ready for the next. A bigger suitcase than usual is needed for the extra wollens. Montruex Church Warden Jane phoned me this evening and said that there'll be no church car, as it was more than it was worth to bring it up to the Swiss equivalent of our MOT. I'll buy a month's abonnement demi-tarif fare card instead, and share the cost with the chaplaincy. It works for nearly all public transport, as I found last time.

Nearly a White Christmas

There were about seventy people for the Midnight Mass I celebrated at St Catherine's last night. I was in bed by one thirty, and up again, breakfasting by eight thirty and on my way to Kenilworth by ten, to join the family Christmas celebrations. I enjoyed listening to Christmas music on Radio Three and Classic FM, depending upon signal reception during the journey, and arrived with plenty of time to spare before our annual festive banquet occupied us for the rest of the afternoon. 

In addition to Kath, Anto, and Rhiannon and Clare, Owain and Anto's sister Viv were with us, as on previous occasions. Owain treated himself to a room in the nearby Holiday Inn, rather than camp out on an airbed, and he didn't leave until quite late. Rhiannon organised a quiz and a bingo session for evening entertainment, after a lengthy time spent organising the opening of presents. We missed the Queen's Speech, though I listened to the night's podcast of The Archers quietly on my own in the bedroom. The telly stayed off, as we found plenty to do, and talk about. It was a most enjoyable day in good company.

By the time we surfaced on Boxing Day, Owain arrived in time to join us for breakfast. Again, we ate and drank and talked, and went out for a walk after lunch, across Balsall Common, as far as Warwick University, a five mile round trip. During the night there had been heavy rain and our choice of  route was determined by the fact that it had a proper metalled footpath so it wasn't just a muddy track. The sun shone, the sky was blue, and crisp fresh air did us a power of good. By the time we settled down to supper, it started to rain and by bed-time, it had started to snow. The radio is full of weather news and snow chaos. I wonder he this will affect our journey home tomorrow?

   

Christmas Eve reunions

I walked into town this morning for the Eucharist at St John's City Parish Church, blessed with a very diverse congregation of adults and children of over seventy people. It was lovely to see many familiar faces, still going strong after the seven years since I retired, some even more active now than they were then, as their own faith has developed. 

It was an enjoyable relaxed, yet quite traditional celebration, story telling the entire Nativity, from the Annunciation to the Massacre of the Innocents using scriptural texts of both Luke and Matthew, and a verse rendering. It's something I've not thought of in the context of a Parish Eucharist before, but it certainnly worked, and mad me think how I might do the same if I find myself with a free hand in organising liturgy on the Sunday closest to Christmas Eve. Afterwards I chatted with a Pakistani Christian woman whose asylum request had been granted. When we talked last year, she was still waiting. Now she was relaxed and joyous. I thought of Hamid, whom I baptized in St German's the other side of Christmas two years ago, deported back to Rawlpindi eighteen months later, finding reconciliation with his Muslim family an impossible struggle at this point in time.

He now lives a good distance across the city from a church. Will he be able to join others in worship there? Possibly not, just isolated and vulnerable in a hard traditional social setting where he no longer feels at home, but is rather, at risk now, thanks to the ill-informed decisions of Her Majesty's Government and judiciary who are less well informed about traditional orthodox Christian belief and practice than should be the case.

I returned from church, refreshed and consoled by meeting and greeting with so many old friends to whom I had already sent cards and emails. No need to explain to anyone what I've been doing since we last met! After lunch, I started packing, both for my journey to Kenilworth tomorrow morning, and separately for my Swiss locum duty travel next Friday. It takes the pressure off me, when I get back home with only 24 hours to spare before heading out again. Perhaps I am taking on too much, not giving myself enough time to recover these days. I certainly seem to take longer to prepare and recover from being away.

It's a consequence, I guess, of getting old, needing to have everything in order and well prepared to avoid the demands of spontaneous organisation, which I think I was quite good at when I was younger, unless I've frogtten how chaotic I really was. Or perhaps my standards are now higher. Once, I could pack a bag successfully and leave the country with an evening of effort. Now I need a day, if not longer. It is all this digital connectivity, taking up so much extra time, to keep life flowing evenly, without dislocation?

Quiet preparation time

Our new front door will be fitted in mid January while I'm away. The existing one dates from the middle sixties, and at that time, when the first telephone line was run into the property, a hole for the cable was drilled through the wooden door frame to accommodate the GPO line. The little junction box on the frame, although painted red, is still engraved with an original GPO brand marking. It should have been upgraded twice since then, despite new lines and new services being run into the house, but it wasn't - on the 'It ain't broke, no need to try and fix it' principle. If the door installers, however expert in taking out the old door frame, made a mistake, it could damage the incoming line, and leave the house without phone and broadband, something of a worry for Clare. So I asked Ashley if he could help sort out this problem beforehand, as he has a great deal of experience in this field.

He came yesterday evening with all his professional grade tools and we spent several hours together re-routing the cable outside the frame. It was quite a simple task, but difficult to achieve. There were layers of paint to be chipped away to free the line undamaged from its staples, somewhat stronger staples than their modern equivalent, but he was successful, and all still works fine.

I realised as we were sitting drinking tea and eating mince pies at midnight, that it was the first time in the nine years we've known each other, that he'd been in our house. For most of the time over those years we have been too busy to socialise outside the office. At the moment business is slowing down, not just because of the festive season, but because we await further developments which will have a critical impact on where we go from here.

This morning, I walked to the bus station with Clare, where she took the coach to Coventry on her way to Kenilworth for the first time. Usually, she goes by train, but the threat of irregular trains over the holiday weekend was enough to prompt an alternative journey. The trip went smoothly and cost significantly less. I had a few last minute shopping errands to perform, but went to the shops in Canton instead of going into town for a change. I was in any case due to go in later and meet Ashley, but in the end we did what we needed to by email instead. This left me with a free evening, with nothing worth watching on telly, so I settled for a few hours quiet solitude instead. I need to pause and ponder these days before the celebrations begins. I'm so thankful to have a free Advent Four Sunday morning tomorrow, to go to Mass and be on the receiving end before celebrating the Midnight Vigil Mass.

 

Pane-ful surprise

The past few days have sped by, occupied with office and shopping visits plus another visit on Tuesday from Clive Powell of double glazing specialists Secura Windows, who upgraded our house eleven years ago. New house insurance terms and conditions are insisting on higher specification front door security. The only way it can be achieved is installing a new door. The trade catalogue presents a bewildering array of styles, furnishing and glazing. Settling on an overall choice wasn't too difficult, as ever the devil is in the detail, getting a glazing design we think we can live with. It took a couple of days until we were both satisfied. Clive is very patient.

I made a phone call during his visit from the middle room, and turning around to face the window as I talked, noticed a jagged diagonal crack from top to bottom of the inner double glazed panel opposite. Such a strange co-incidence! Both Clare and I recalled hearing a sharp cracking sound, like a stone or a bird beak on a window, shortly before Clive arrived, but neither of us thought to investigate at the time, thinking it came from outside, from a neighbour's house. Clive said he'd come across this before in cold weather, though not very often. We were at least able to order a replacement there and then, knowing that he'd have the original information in his filing system from eleven years ago when the job was done.

Thursday morning a visit to the GP surgery for a blood pressure check, leading to an increase in dosage of the supplementary medication I was given last week, as it seems to have had no impact at all. The pharmacist said that getting a suitably effective dosage was still a matter of trial and error as every individual responds in different ways. Different physical constitution, metabolism, diet, environment, all play their part. It's amusing really.

   

Christmas racing towards us

After a late lazy family breakfast, we drove back home to Cardiff yesterday morning. The roads were remarkably clear, although the city centre was very busy with shoppers when we went out later in the afternoon. In the evening, I finished off my Sunday sermon, and watched the list three episodes of 'Witnesses - A Frozen Death' on BBC Four, one on iPlayer catch up, the other two live. To my mind, it was disappointing, and the ending fragmentary, incoherent, implausible and unresolved. I hope it doesn't mean that there'll be a Series Two set of episodes.. Oh dear! I just discovered from IMDB it was Series Two, with Series One having been aired on Channel Four. I missed that. Would it be any better, or worse? I wonder.

I celebrated and preached at St John's Canton this morning, then set about creating my annual digital Christmas card to email with our family newsletter. This will be emailed to old friends in Costa Rica, Italy, Romania, Singapore, Spain, Switzerland, and Tasmania as well as the UK. Our little sample of the global village. I found an icon of the Nativity to use that was traditional but which had splendidly vibrant colours, and added a lovely quote from St John Chrysostom to it.

He became flesh. He did not become God. He was God.  

Wherefore He became flesh, so that He Whom heaven did not contain, 

a manger would this day receive.  

He was placed in a manger, so that He, by whom all things are nourished, 

may receive an infant’s food from His Virgin Mother.

The Father of all ages, as an infant at the breast, nestles in the virginal arms, 

that the Magi may more easily see Him. 

Since this day the Magi too have come, and made a beginning of withstanding tyranny; 

and the heavens give glory, as the Lord is revealed by a star.

Later in the afternoon Clare and I went to St Catherine's for the Parish Carols by Candlelight Service and Nativity Play. It was very nicely done with dozens of kids taking part. This is only the third Sunday of Advent, and next Sunday is Christmas Eve. December is accelerating past me, and already I'm having to think about getting ready to fly to Switzerland four days after Christmas, for my next locum duty assignment there.

  

Friends and family re-connecting

Sometimes, especially in winter it seems, several days slip quietly by when it's an effort to remember what I've busied myself with if I've had no appointments in my diary or duties to perform and don't find time to write this blog, I have investigate whether I've taken photos, worked on any documents, or ask Clare if she can remember what either of us did.

I quite forgot that having talked to Rachel about publicity for herself as a performing musician, I then spent all of Tuesday using Blogger to build her a site to host some of her gig videos. Some of these we have on home devices, others are on the internet and have to be tracked down and linked up. It's several years since I built a new website using Blogger, so a good deal of time was spent re-learning its edit functions, before I had something to show her. The next problem is obtaining a response from her as she's so fully occupied scraping a living, and without a decent home internet connection, that it takes ages for her to get around to viewing and commenting. No quick results around here, but a day well spent anyway.

Last weekend I noticed that Delbert Field an old friend from Geneva Days, I haven't seen for more than a decade started following me on Twitter. I sent him a Direct Message, and on Wednesday got a response. He and his artist wife Araceli now live in Sta Fe, Colombia, where both are involved with the local episcopal church, Ara is creating a mosaic to decorate the sanctuary of their church there.

Delbert worked for the International Organisation for Migration, and was involved in moving people out of danger zones and later resettling them during the Bosnian war. He made it possible for me to accompany him on a visit to Sarajevo in November 1996 when IOM was establishing a new office there, about six months after the siege was lifted and SFOR was enabling the return of the civilian rule of law. I digitized the photos I took there many years ago. One day I must get around to re-reading and transcribing the journal I wrote of that memorable week in my life.

Thursday afternoon I made a brief visit to the CBS RadioNet office, but there's still no development in response to our request for an enquiry into questionable business initiative of For Cardiff. In the evening we went to Jacquie and Russell's house for their annual soirée of readings stories and songs around around their Christmas tree, a very pleasant occasion with two dozen other guests present.

Friday we drove up to the Yorkshire village of Northowram outside Halifax to attend the Memorial Service for Clare's cousin John's wife Dorothy, who died last month. It was held in St Matthew's Parish church where John had been Vicar, after they returned from a spell as missionaries in Zambia. She was eighty three and had lived a full an active life, despite being disabled by a stroke in her early seventies, singing with a big local choral society, involved with the work of the Mothers Union Overseas, and campaigning to retain rural Post Offices during a time of widespread closures. Their four children and offspring told her life story and they also sang together in the service, and two of them contributed also with organ accompaniment. The ladies of the Parish laid on refreshments to follow, and people, relatives, friends, parishioners, lingered for a long time after the service chatting and remniscing.

Rather than drive home four hours in the dark, we drove to Kenilworth to stay the night with Kath Anto and Rhiannon. Although it's less than half the complete distance, the journey still took us three hours in Friday rush hour traffic, and we were somewhat bemused by the way Google kept offering us alternative routes for the fastest journey time to avoid congestion hot spots. It changed each time a bottleneck cleared or developed. We just stuck to the M1/M42 route back to the West Midlands, once we left the Leed conurbation, where the impact of congestion was worst. Kath had a meal ready for us when we arrived, and we enjoyed a delightful family supper at the end of a long travel day in less than ideal conditions.

Modern Morality Tale

I finally had the GP appointment this morning which Clare booked me in for while I was away. It was needed for my six monthly medication review, and to discuss a couple of minor issues that may merit attention. I came away with a trial prescription for additional blood pressure medication. I've been on the same meds for the best part of ten years, and getting older, losing weight, diet change etc, doesn't always lead to desired improvement. The pharmacist who dealt with me was also interested in talking with me about my experience with the medication. I think it might be part of a piece of research work being undertaken. I can expect to receive letters about arranging specialist appointments some time soon.

When I visited the surgery last week with a prescription request, the reeptionist drew attention to an application form for patients in the practice to fill in, and request access to the practice's new on-line appoinment booking system. Recently I've been receiving tex message reminders of GP appointments to add to the email reminders from my dentists. As I abandoned the use of a paper diary a few years after retirement, I rely completely on Google Calendar and its notifications, delivered to every digital device I have. I vainly like to think it means I am more punctual, less likely to miss appointments and be in the wrong place, now that I tend to me more forgetful anyway. It does, however, depend on me remembering to switch on a phone or a tablet when I get, and on that score, I have put myself to shame a few times recently.

This evening we attended a play being put on this week in St John's Canton. It featured a mix of professional working with amateur actors who have been homeless. It was based on Charles Dickens' second Christmas story 'The Chimes' a project with the backing of the Chapter Arts Centre. The nave had been arranged with tiered seating facing inwards, and the cast used the south aisle and chancel as off stage areas. 

There were many songs as well as dialogue in the style of musical theatre, plus an excellent hi-fi sound and video projection system, well used to provide the mise en scène. It was a fine piece of work, given a punchy contemporary feel by the use sound bytes from May and Thatcher, in addition to verbal quotes about poverty, homelessness and the benefit system from current political discourse, This highlighted an uncanny similarity between Dickensian and contemporary talk of the poor and of poverty. 

I left, feeling aggrieved to think that the mindset of the rich problematising the poor has changed so much less that it could have. Really, it's the rich, refusing to share wealth and power which are the problem. As this was a largely secular take on past and present, it also occurred to me how much worse it would have been without the prophetic ministry of Christian and Jewish teachers, preachers and philanthropists. And how much harder it now is with a huge proportion of citizens losing their religion. At least this is compensated for, to a significant extent, by everyday Islamic philanthropy and good will towards the poor, exercised by by those who have little, as well as those who have much.

 

St German's Advent Welcome to Bishop June

For the second week in a row, I celebrated and preached for a said Eucharist at St Catherine's, only this time it was at eight o'clock, and there were ten of us. I met Dylan, the third ordinand to be placed here for part time on-the-job training with St Padarn's Institute, which replaced St Michael's College Llandaff as the Church in Wales' ordination training centre last year. As a native Welsh speaker from near Llangollen, he spent the first half of his first year at Eglwys Dewi Sant, and is now getting quite a different, more common experience of settled urban Parish life in a benefice of Canton.

It started snowing during breakfast, but the temperature wasn't yet low enough for to cause problems on the roads, so rather than leave early and take the bus / no bus risk to get there on time, I drove over to St German's to join the congregation and Fr Phelim in welcoming our new diocesan Bishop June Osborne, presiding and preaching for the fisrt time. I was pleased to have an opportunity to meet her at last, and to see how happy people were on this historic occasion. She preached an encouraging and thoughtful sermon about prophets as solitary people standing apart from crowd in order to deliver the message of God. The future, under her fresh and different style of leadership will be interesting, not just to observe from the sidelines, but also to participate in. 

In our briefest of conversations, I raised with her the matter of the role of retired clerics in the life and work of the Diocese, and she said that she was aware of the extent of this, and intends to look afresh at what potential contribution might be made by the ranks of used aged volunteers. Given that many of us are fitter and active for much longer in life, but happy to have the freedom of a pensioner's life, there may be more we can do, as part of our Christian stewardship of time and talents, and be seen as part of the bigger strategic plan. Well, we'll see.

Later in the afternoon, I headed from home to the Stenier School in Llandaff North, for the school Community Choir's third pre Christmas concert. Despite the weather the audience was bigger, and the choir did very well indeed, singing a variety of material in Latin, Welsh and Old Engish. They were more confident, more cohesive, and thus clearer in delivery. My first carol singing opportuniy of the year, when in times past I'd have gone through half a dozen Carol services by now, and for this reason it was that much more a fresh enjoyable experience.
   

Dodgy Business

Thurssday morning, I didn't get ready early enough to be able to walk to the dentists for the second day in a row, and took the car, leaving myself half an hour to drive there. Just getting out of our street and on to the main road took half an hour. I began to think it wasn't a good idea, but the rest of the two mile trip took me fifteen minutes. It can take double this amount of time if there's a sudden hold up. The repair didn't take long, and I was home again just after ten. Clare had an appointment half an hour after mine. She used public transport and returned half an hour after me, lucky to find the traffic free flowing despite the rain and cold.

In the afternoon, I visited the CBS RadioNet office, where I found Ashley and Julie much disturbed by announcement from the 'For Cardiff' Business Imprevement District launching a competing radio network to ours. As if they haven't got anything better to do, trying to re-invent and reproduce as high a quality system for lower cost The process by which this decision was reached is alarming because of the lack of professional integrity shown by key players in two separate boardroom dramas, but I shall say no more. We have asked the City Council formally for an enquiry, and await a response.

Russel and Jacquie came to lunch yesterday, and we enjoyed a couple of hours good conversation.  Owain has gone to Geneva for a long weekend, and sent photos of himself and school friend Ludo enjoying a fondue in a hostelry on the snow clad Col de Sainte Cergue. It's twenty five years this months since we first took him up there, as a family newly arrived in Geneva. That was when I met the challenge and delight of ski de fond for the first time. I wonder if I'll get to do this during my new year sojourn in Montreux?

Today, with my sermon finished and printed off, I went for a pre-lunch walk around Thompsons Park and took some photos with my new DSLR, to help me get a fuller idea of its capabilities, especially in winter light. Later I went into town to buy Christmas cards, but felt disinclined to keep up the momentum, printing off labels and stuffing envelopes. Thinking abut an early morning Sunday start, I only watched the first of the two episodes of French crimmie -  'Witnesses - Frozen' on BBC Four. It's failing to sustain my attention with its suggesions of esoteric witchery. When you stop caring about the lead characters, it's time to go to bed. There's always catch-up in the week, maybe.
   

Winter watching

The week slips by quickly, or so it seems when daylight hours are this short. At least it provides an excuse for some catch-up telly.  At last, time to catch up on the Channel Four Walter Presents Scandi-crime series 'Dicte - Crime Reporter', series two. Its key characters are interesting and flawed people, working on harrowingly difficult cases, and trying to make personal relationships and family life work in mid-life and mid-career. It contains some funny true to life scenes of conflict in relationships. It reflects how much a professionally successful person owes to the understanding and support of family and friends. It can be comic in an un-contrived way, without being a comedy show. It's what I regard as excellent drama, like Inspector Montalbano.

Monday afternoon I had a session with Kay our osteomyologist, for a treatment on my back and also for a helpful conversation about managing the consequences of old injuries revealing themselves in ageing musculature, as these have un-noticed creeping effect on the alignment of bones, if they aren't checked and worked on regularly. Staying fit to function normally, let alone for athletic pursuits at this time of life takes time, just like getting up in the morning seems to take longer than ever.

Anyway, it was helpful and constructive, and encourages me to carry on using the special shaped neck pillow Clare gave me to try out over the weekend. Much of the problem I've had with disturbed sleep over these past few months has concerned getting and keeping neck and shoulders comfortable and relaxed during sleep. To awake from a couple of nights sleep almost free of stiffness and pain is a like a gift from heaven, not that it makes that much difference to getting started and active.

Tuesday, a week later than last year, I drafted our annual Christmas newsletter, and gave it to Clare to error check. It required two attempts to get rid of the flaws found, and there'll be another look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow, just to be sure.

This morning, I walked to Llandaff North for my dental check-up, in just thirty five minutes. Apart from needing the exercise, traffic congestion on routes through Llandaff make it difficult to predict a journey time. It can be ten minutes to cover two miles, or it can be half an hour. Traffic conditions can change unexpectedly.

It is bothersome that with the housing developments taking place to the West and North of Cardiff, no road improvements are planned, or even seem practicable through such a densely populated suburban area. Expanded rail services on the Taff Vale line will help to improve things, but there's still a missing link in the network from Llandaff North, which would facilitate a circular 'Metro' style rail route around the city, with connections from it to the suburbs. Infrastructure which our Victorian forebears created was sadly mutilated post-war, and will cost a lot to restore.

The dental visit was brief, and I caught a bus back home. Last summer's filling has cracked and needs replacement. Fortunately it's under a year's guarantee. So all I have to do is arrive by 9.20am, and that's a challenge either by car or on foot at that time of day.

In the evening I wrote a sermon for Sunday, then found the Channel Five TV catch-up app and was able to watch another episode of 'Bull', the first of which I saw last night. This is a courtroom drama series featuring Michael Weatherly, who until last year played one of the key regular characters in Five USA's NCIS. In this, his own series he plays a an expert psychologist who acts as a behavioural consultant to lawyers, helping them to plan their argument strategy to appeal to juries, on the basis of profiling jurors. Apparently, it has some basis in American legal praxis, but whether it's that hi-tech in the real world, I wonder. Weatherly certainly looks bullish, bulky, not as slick and stylish as his alter ego Tony Di Nozzo. This is the second series, apparently. Is he still growing into the part? The plot lines were a little too compressed and clever-clever for dramatic impact, leaving this viewer puzzled, and just a little underwhelmed.

Another Advent begins

Well, the real countdown to Christmas is now under way. To mark the changeover to the new year and its Markan lectionary, I resumed using the book version of the Breviary (as opposed to the on-line app) in daily prayer, Clare has prepared an Advent table wreath, so that every meal can have a little candle light to  bless it.

We went to St Catherine's this morning, where I celebrated and preached at the main Eucharist, with no music or hymns, as the choir and organised had excused themselves with the evening's Advent Carol service to prepare for. I would have liked us to sing a few things unaccompanied, but didn't want to disrupt the sides-persons, who were already distributing service booklets and notice sheets without hymn books. There were thirty adults and fifteen children present, so maybe I could have interrupted the routine, but on by first Sunday back in several months, I wasn't sure this was such a good idea. Why not just let things be different for a change eh, Keith?

Clare went off afterwards to the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama afterwards for a midday concert. I went home and cooked lunch, for her to return to. Editing and up-loading photos took up most of the afternoon, then we returned to St Catherine's for the Advent Carol service. The choir did very well, and I was acutely aware of the difference it made, this being a Parish choir, with a strong sense of connection to what they were singing. I was glad to have nothing do do but sit with Clare in the congregation, and enjoy the occasion.

Saturday Outings

A trip with the new camera to Dyffryn House and Gardens this morning. It's as much a pleasure to hold as the Alpha 55, quicker to focus, and offers photos to play with which are 50% larger. I used my 18-55 kit lens around the house and gardens, and switched to the 18-280mm telephoto lens at the end of lunch in the cafe, to snap birds feeling at the table outside the window. This was where I was most hoping the upgrade would be worth it. I wasn't disappointed. An excellent longish lens and high-res photo size will produce better results than the HX300 with three times the magnification and 20% smaller file size, as it can focus and shoot faster. Learning how to get the best of this combination is going to be a photographic adventure for me.

The Gardens are mostly tidied up for winter, and bulb planting has been done With such a variety of trees, even without leaves they add colour to the landscape. Some are budding earlier than usual and winter flowering specials are already about their business. The vegetable garden is an array of vivid rows of green and purple Brassica varieties, with a dash of orange. An amusing sculpture trail with pieces themed on the song 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' is laid out, for children of all ages to discover with the map provided. Such a delightful way to sustain visitor interest in a quieter part of the year.

In the evening, we went to a concert performance of Fauré's Requiem, which was meant to be at Eglwys Dewi Sant, but had to be switched to nearby City URC due to a church heating breakdown. The choir had evidently rehearsed hard, but the last minute switch of venue can't have helped. It was accompanied by piano and organ. For acoustic balance, the organ could have done with being more in the background, not so much loudness but choice of stops used. The choir lacked the emotional energy to make the performance sparkle. I couldn't help wondering how many choristers, mostly of a certain age, were familiar with the meaning of the text, and where it fits in Christian devotion, and in Fauré's case, theological discussion, as he had a slightly unorthodox take on its finer meaning. 

Ours was the liberalising post war generation when the influence of established Christianity and religion in general on society became noticeable, and this affected education and religious literacy. Controversy over the critical interpretation of scripture simply led to more ordinary people being deterred from taking seriously or receiving its inheritance of biblical and liturgical information. Ignorance, like a disease has spread down the generations since, and affects attitudes to many things including classical music. People of any kind of informed committed religious faith are perhaps no more than ten percent of the UK population these days. There's an awful lot of muddled religious belief out there, as well as agnosticism and ideological atheism. The muddled that worry me most.

When we returned from the concert, I watched the French crimmie 'Witnesses - Frozen' on BBC Four, have seen last weeks episode on iPlayer, earlier in the week. I had a most annoying time trying and failing to convince the telly that I was an already registered iPlayer user. Perhaps it would  have helped to get the password right, still on a piece pf paper on my desk, and not in my password book. But, it still let me watch, so really what's the point?

The French spoken is mostly with a Pas-de-Calais, if not Wallonian accent, nice and clear to follow, not quite making the subtitles redundant, but rather making them less than vital to keep up with the dialogue. I'm not convinced about the practical plausibility of the plot, about a serial killer with ritual magic and child sacrifice overtones. Too many lingering shots of women staring aimlessly. I've not returned to watch the second series of the previous Spanish crimmie, as it had become so implausible as to be annoying. So much for entertaining Spanish conversation listening practice.

Part exchange

Yesterday afternoon, I went for catch up session in the CBS RadioNet office. Ashley took charge of my faulty electrical equipment and ran some tests with his expert equipment to establish whether it was the laptop charger or a socket board that caused the current to leak to earth and trip the mains switch, on by first day home. The charger seems to be fine, but the mains connector lead was faulty. I noticed the transformer getting warmer than usual, using it with a plug adaptor in Spain. Perhaps this alone caused the UK plug to flex and crack where the lead exits. Anyway it's a bin job. Luckily I have others . Next time I take the laptop abroad, I must be sure to find a continental lead to take with me instead. I'm sure I have several unused stored away.

I changed my Euros into sterling then visited Cardiff Camera Centre to check out if they had sold the discounted Sony Alpha 68 on offer lately and they hadn't. Its imaging technology is five years younger than my Alpha 55. The assistant asked if I was interested in part exchange and gave me an interesting quote. 

I banked the sterling this morning, and later returned to the shop, with the original telephoto lens which I hardlyever used, and another vintage Minolta telephoto lens which I never take out with me as it is heavy enough to need a tripod. Instead of paying £425 for the camera body, I paid £285, and got a spare battery added in for free. Only when I got home did I realise I had forgotten my dental appointment, for the simple reason that I'd not switched a phone on, and walked out of the house without one. It's unusual for me not to switch on and check out the news when I get up, then I get my diary notifications. Strange. I rang penitentially, half an hour late, and re-booked for next week.