Art detective work

I woke up from a good night's sleep to listen to the news on this 25th anniversary of the attack that destroyed the World Trade Centre in Manhattan killing three thousand people. 'The Reunion' programme on Radio 4 interviewed many witnesses with first hand experience remembering the events, and replayed audio from that tragic day. 

We were living in Monaco back then. I remember well it was a hot and humid day. We sat down to relax after lunch and watched the news coming in with live footage of the second plane crashing into the building, while the camera was focused on showing the fire started by the impact of the first plane. It didn't seem unreal or like a fake news item as it happened. There was genuine shock and horror in the news commentator's voice which no actor could convey.  

It was stunning to witness this, even at a great distance, trying to imagine what it was like for those caught up in this tragedy. A strong contingency of Americans lives in the Principality. That evening and over the days that followed I kept St Paul's church open and stayed around in case anyone wanted to talk or ask for prayer. Few people entered, those who did were lost for words. I guess most people were keeping vigil in front of the TV news or trying to contact family and friends in the hours that followed. By the weekend, the Diocese issued a special order of prayer for the victims, and all touched by the catastrophe for use in public acts of worship and a service took place at St Paul's. Those bleak sad days are a blur in my memory. There's nothing in my sermon archive to suggest I preached. It was a time for silence rather than words. It was already clear the world would not be the same again after such an atrocity, but in what way? Nobody could guess back then.

I went out to buy veg from Jason's greengrocer's before lunch then  started cooking without realising we're meant to be eating a cooked meal this evening when Kath arrives for the weekend. Crossed wires unfortunately. Sometimes my attention to detail fails due to the medication slowing my thought processes. I see things I may be looking for but not recognise them for this reason. I noticed this morning that my weight has dropped by four kilos. I'm convinced this is to do with the bad effect  of the medication on my digestive system. Will I convince the medics concerned with reviewing my medication that it's less beneficial to my health than they think?

I went to the pharmacy just after five to collect the prescription meds ordered on Monday and the place was shuttered at five twenty four, despite a notice in the shop window and on the website stating closure is five thirty. And it's not open again until Monday. It's the second time this has happened to me on a Friday. I was so annoyed.

Kath arrived at supper time, bringing with her a bidet device designed to sit under a toilet seat to attach to the bathroom water supply. Also Kath brought with her a large framed portrait, one metre tall by half a metre wide, of Clare's godmother Esther Ellen Skelton known as 'Auntie' Betty, her mother's cousin. It was painted by an artist named F Morelli when she was a child about seven years old. I recall seeing this on the wall in her dining room  when we visited her house sixty two years ago. She left the painting to Clare in her will. Her nephew Adrian acquired the painting when her house was cleared after her death in 1987, but he now lives in New Zealand. It's taken many years to reach us on a journey which started in Surrey, went to Wolverhampton after her death, then to Owain in Bristol last year. Kath picked it up from Bristol and delivered it to us. 

It's a beautiful work of art in a romantic impressionist style. The face has a recognisable family likeness to it, to judge from my recollection of the old woman I met fifty years  There was a sticker on the frame giving Auntie Betty's dates, and the painter's signature in red is in the bottom left hand corner. Kath fed a photo and the few details we had into Google and identified the artist as  Francesco Morelli a French-Italian painter who specialised in depicting scenes of rural life, but earned his keep from portraits of people commissioned by wealthy families. What a surprise!  By the time all this was revealed it was time for bed.

Real life drama

A good night's sleep, but yet again it hasn't prevented me from being slow thinking and feeling drowsy all morning. I slept in an awkward position as my lower back was painfully stiff. It meant proceeding cautiously all day, consciously correcting my posture to avoid a trapped nerve. Clare went down the Bay to book tickets from WNO's up-coming performance of 'La Boeme' and I cooked lunch.

A fine piece of BBC Radio 4 afternoon drama was broadcast, so tense there was no chance of me dozing in my arm chair after the meal. In 'Welcome to Defiance' a former air traffic controller tells his Nine Eleven story, when all air traffic over America was ordered to land immediately at the nearest airfield following the hijacking and crashing of four planes, with the aim of exposing any other hijacked planes not yet identified. There were 4546 planes in American airspace at the time. 

The play re-enacted the dialogue between the control tower at little used Defiance airfield and ten commercial aircraft queuing in the air to land, as it was the nearest landing strip they could reach. The airfield had no radar and relied on visual contact once a pilot requested clearance to make an approach to land. It was fictionalised account of events giving a vivid impression of what it must have been like to be caught up in such a crisis and what it takes to respond successfully in such an unprecedented situation in total reliance on training, discipline and trust in the working partnership between pilots and ground crew.

Late afternoon my head cleared so I went out for an uncomfortable walk around Llandaff Fields in drizzling rain. For once, I didn't complete my daily distance as I didn't want to make too much demand on my stressed back muscles. After supper I watched another episode of 'Marbella' before turning in for the night.

A monster of our own creation

Another night when I slept fairly well but not for long enough, leaving me drowsy and light headed before I took my medication. After breakfast I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were a dozen of us this morning. At Clare's request I called at Linda's house after the service to see if there was anything I could do to help deal with her compromised email account, but nobody was in. Linda called later, email panic over thanks to troubleshooting by BT. 

Alarm is being raised about the dangers posed by Artificial Intelligence devices so sophisticated they not only solve maths problems hitherto considered unsolvable, but can act independently of their authors to hack into secure systems and conceal their processes and solutions from those monitoring them. Experts are seriously concerned these devices, alarmed that are quickly self evolving and may pose a 10% risk of gaining control over everything digital the world depends on, with catastrophic consequences, to the point of exterminating humankind. What is happening is being compared to designing an aircraft without safety features and expecting people to travel on it. There are no guarantees that safety and security policies and features built into AI algorithms are adequate to prevent humans from losing control of their creation. In simple terms, there's no 'kill switch' built in. Already trillions of dollars are invested in AI data processing centres world wide consuming an immense amount of resources and impacting on our environment. Greed and ambition have conspired to create a monster threatening to destroy us, one way or another.

I bought smoked mackerel for lunch on the way home and cooked veg to go with it. After eating I dozed for a while, then walked in Llandaff Fields for about an hour before supper. Afterwards I watched another episode of 'Marbella'. It's a crimmie about the wheelings and dealings of a dodgy lawyer who also presents himself as an observer of underworld life in the Costa del Sol and the city in particular, whose comments resemble the discourse a social anthropologist might deliver. Curious but entertaining.

Illegal occupation denounced

A good night's sleep, waking up to sunshine and clouds. Clare's study group arrived after breakfast. I sat in the lounge and finished my stroke anniversary reflection. Clare was busy cooking after they left while I was still writing. After lunch I dozed in my armchair for half an hour then went out shopping for groceries.

In Parliament this afternoon, Jewish MP David Milliband denounced ethnic cleansing by Israeli settlers in Gaza and the Palestinian Territories condoned by the Israeli government. He proposed economic sanctions banning goods from illegal West Bank settlements. Strong language about illegal occupation as well as the sanctions has provoked a furious reaction from Israel. Diplomatic repercussions include the closure of the UK Consulate in East Jerusalem. Other European nations are adopting the sanctions, but Trump's regime won't. The Chief Rabbi is concerned sanctions will lead to an increase in antisemitic attacks on Britain's Jewish communities. It's a serious worry as there's so much anger and desire for revenge in every direction. Where can reconciliation begin when so much evil has been done on all sides?

I went out again after supper for a sunset walk up and down Llandaff Fields. The sky was fairly clear so the light didn't fade as quickly as last night, but the wind was colder. I could have done with a pullover or a warmer jacket to keep the chill away. 

Clare's friend Linda rang up in a panic as she had unwittingly compromised her BT email account. He address book had been compromised and it was now sending out toxic spam. I advised her as best I could over the phone, and urged her to call BT to rescue her account, and warn all her contacts by Gmail. Such a distressing occurrence for someone with limited technical understanding.

Rachel sent us a video clip of her new apartment, piled high with boxes from her weekend move, and then a second one showing the progress she's already made in making a living space for herself, with Zeke miaowing us a welcome greeting. I can sleep easier knowing that Rachel's relocation to Cottonwood is now safely behind her and a new way of life lies open for her.

Reviewing the year

I didn't sleep well due to pain in my lower bowel keeping me awake, then when I got up, diarrhea associated with the medication, so a slow start to the day. Thankfully the bum wound continues to heal. Coincidentally I had a message from the GP surgery to book an appointment to discuss my recent referral - but which one? I hope it's about the medication. I phoned to arrange one after breakfast and will have to wait a fortnight to find out. 

A walk to the shops before lunch to buy swabs and a Cayenne pepper refill. Clare bought Cayenne pepper on her shopping trip, another co-incidence.

After lunch, I went to the Kings Road pharmacy with a prescription renewal request for blood pressure medication. It won't be ready until Friday. I remembered this in good time with a week's supply in hand. Renewal of various meds aren't synchronised, so I need to be vigilant about stock taking. 

Next Monday it'll be a year since the stroke. I wrote a reflective piece on the life changing nature of the experience and the end of my public ministry, to post on the Parish WhatsApp Daily Prayer thread. I don't know if anyone will read it. So few actually listened to my contribution on YouTube that I often wondered if it was worth doing just for its own sake. Servants of God's Word can never be sure if anyone has been listening to them, let alone understood, but it's what we're called to do no matter what the result. That's the nature of giving witness to the mystery of God with us.

Clare went to choir practice at supper time. After eating I completed my daily walk in Llandaff Fields as it was getting dark. Being out at this time of evening awakens memories of the early weeks of living with the stroke when I went out and walked at dusk in an effort to establish how limiting the effect of visual impairment would be. Despite my apprehension I risked the possibility of getting myself into trouble, losing my way, falling or banging into something un-noticed and injuring myself. Only once did I bruise my left arm, bumping into the projecting edge of a gateway parapet. 

I found a Spanish crimmie to watch on Walter Presents, a story set in Marbella showcasing its reputation as the capital of the 'costa del crime'. A bit far fetched, but I enjoyed listening to the dialogue and being able to follow most of it.

A clearer head

After a good night's sleep, the longest I've had since taking note of it, I woke up to blue sky and sunshine feeling clear headed, and the effect of the meds wasn't as unpleasant and hard to cope with as it has been this past few months. 

We went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's. Sunday school has re-started so after Communion, a group of exuberant under tens rejoined the congregation. We were introduced to Beth, our new ordinand on pastoral placement who conducted the Ministry of the Word with Siôn preaching. She spoke about herself at the end of the service against the background of kids being noisy, which made her barely audible - partly lack of experience with the lectern microphone, partly my diminished ability to hear high pitched voices clearly. Practice makes perfect hopefully. 

We learned that Jeremy our previous ordinand on placement is stuck in Indonesia where he went to get married last month. An eruption of the Mount Anak Krakatoa volcano has closed the airspace. Let's hope he can return in time to be ordained Deacon at Michaelmass.

After lunch and a rest we walked around Llandaff Fields. It's noticeably warmer this afternoon, and another heat wave is promised this week. We  went in search of a functioning ATM to withdraw cash. They are fewer and further between these days. The one in Kings Road Co-op was out of action as usual, but Clare was able to get cashback when she bought a few food items there.

After supper, a chat with Owain at the end of his long weekend in Nerja, then a short walk at dusk, enjoying the mild evening air with my head almost clear of the medication side effects.

Improvement

A better night's sleep, waking up to blue sky and 20C temperature, leaving me clear headed, less impacted by the meds than I usually am. Clare made the usual Saturday pancakes for breakfast. I made a paella with Ashton's fish pie mix for lunch. I took advantage of feeling sharper to collect, sort and file bank statements accumulated over the past year. All too often my concentration has been too poor to deal with them and put them away properly. Just one of several dimensions to chaos in the aftermath of the stroke.

A top Israeli official Israel Katz says that Palestinian inhabitants of Gaza should be removed. The Israeli army has already forcibly displaced much of the population into restricted areas, killing more than 900 during a so-called cease-fire in the face of resistance from remaining Hamas militias. Israeli settlers are driving Palestinian settlers from West Bank land under the gaze of the army. Altogether it's nothing more or less than ethnic cleansing. Religious extremists claim from Hebrew scripture the right to resettle in the promised land by driving out its present inhabitants. How can any good come out of this for anyone?

A walk in Llandaff Fields for nearly two hours after lunch, then in the evening we were invited to Clive and Hilary's golden wedding anniversary party with their friends and church members. The atmosphere was very convivial but I found it tiring having to cope with being in a crowd of people, many of whom I didn't know feeling slightly light headed, so we didn't stop until the end. We returned home at half past nine and started getting ready for bed straightaway. Better not to overdo it after an improved day.

Poor communication

Overcast today. I slept fairly well, but I didn't feel refreshed on waking up and felt unwell after taking the meds, which clouded my head and left me feeling drowsy for most of the day. There was a missed phone call from British Gas Home Care and an email flagging up the cancellation of our direct debit, notifying us of cancellation fees. Our bank account shows a cancellation fee has been taken. We are still waiting for the confirmation of that cancellation. Two weeks ago I wrote to British Gas customer services to notify them of the cancellation of our direct debit, but had no acknowledgement. This is distressing and not easy to cope with when I'm feeling unwell. I emailed a copy of the letter to a customer services address with a request for clarification about what I owe now. Looking back, engaging in the contract happened rather too smoothly and easily for me to question at the time. Or maybe the problem is that I can't think fast enough there days to take in all the details.

Then I had a notification from the NHS app to say I've been removed from the 'Rehabilitation Medicine' waiting list I was informed I'm on last week, with no idea of why I'd been put on that list to start with. Having to approach the GP surgery staff to ask for clarification can be pretty futile. The medics make the referral and may not be available to ask without the hassle of booking an appointment and wasting their time. In my spam folder I found a dodgy email purporting to come from NHS app administrators. Either Android or Chrome OS is leaking information to third party crook somewhere in cyberspace.

Posters for the next Sonrisa Arts 'Dance in the Dark' tour arrived in the post, for us to put up in the church hall, on Chapter's community noticeboard, and Canton library children's section. After lunch I went to the library and asked if I could put up a poster. I was disconcerted and disappointed to be denied permission as the poster isn't bi-lingual. Considering it's a dance performance with sound and movement, without speech I thought this was mean spirited, even if it is compliant to the letter of the law. Clare is thinking about how she can modify the poster to make it bi-lingual. If it had been thought about and prepared from scratch, the cost of translation, design and production would be prohibitive on a modest budget.

After this set-back I went out to buy veggies. By that time both local greengrocers were closed, so I went and bought what we needed in Tesco's instead. After supper I walked up and down Llandaff Fields for three quarters of an hour at sunset, dark by eight o'clock. At last my head is clear after a miserable foggy brain day. Bed beckons.

LPA dispatched

Going to bed earlier didn't make any difference to the amount of sleep I got - less than I really need. I felt unwell in addition. I needed to drink more water than usual. Despite my daily effort to drink sufficiently, it never seems to be enough. Dehydration creeps in due to the diuretic effect of medication and it takes a few hours for the ill effects to disappear after drinking a litre.

When Clare went for her hairdo with Chris yesterday, she took with her my Lasting Power of Attorney application document for him to sign. His signature was the last one to be added before I sign and date it. As we've not seen him for a while the application neared its time expiry date, and I received a chase-up reminder to get on with the job. After breakfast I did the signing and then took the two documents to the Post Office. They cost twenty one pounds first class recorded delivery. I just hope there are no un-noticed errors in them.

A message arrived on the NHS app to say that I'm now on a General Surgery waiting list. It informed me that the average wait time for a consultation is ten weeks and that ten per cent of people waiting have to wait twenty nine weeks. For treatment, the wait is twenty one weeks and that ten percent of people have to wait seventy one weeks! 

After preparing and eating lunch I went to Jason's greengrocer's to stock up on veg, still in a drowsy toxic haze, feeling as if I am sleepwalking. It's not good for confidence when walking outdoors. Another NHS app message arrived offering a consultation on 9th November, nine weeks from now. And that's the result of an 'urgent' referral. As for nursing support for the bum boil, forget it. Fortunately the wound is behaving healthily so far. A general surgery examination and scan might identify vulnerability in a wound scar that can be dealt with, or lead to some infection preventative measure.

We walked together in Llandaff Fields for half an hour before supper, then watched a documentary on iPlayer about jazz creative genius Miles Davis called 'Birth of the Cool', the title of his first record album. Listening to tracks accompanying the storytelling took me back to being sixteen again and hearing this new music for the first time on scoutmaster Penry Jones's record player. Marvellous memories.

Kafkaesque NHS

It rained during the night, with a drop in temperature and an increase in humidity enough to wake me up feeling slightly chilled. I put on a warm dressing gown but didn't sleep well thereafter and felt tired all day. A wet overcast day. Each time there's been a torrential downpour lately water has been overshooting the gutter and running down the wall outside the kitchen window. The gutter along the edge of the roof was set too close to the edge of the  bottom tile - possibly a consequence of the re-roofing job done a few years ago. The gutter needed re-aligning in relation to the tiles and set at a different gradient to improve water run-off. It's become more noticeable with the increase of extreme weather events this past year or so. Clare arranged for a visit from a guttering specialist. A morning's work in persistent drizzle for two men - £400. I stayed in with her while the job was being done and missed the Wednesday Eucharist at St Catherine's. We won't know how successful the adjustment made to the guttering will be until there's another torrential downpour.

After lunch I set out on foot for an acupuncture appointment at Parkwood Clinic feeling very lethargic and stiff, so I took the bus from the stop opposite the Half Way pub. The treatment boosted my energy enough for me to walk over the Riverside clinic on my way back home, to check with a wound treatment nurse if my referral for treatment had been received. That was how I learned the district nurses' treatment room is now at St David's hospital. The receptionist gave me the phone number for the district nurse 'hub' which I called when I got home. 

I wasn't able to find out if I'd been referred for treatment, or when I would hear about an appointment. I was advised to call the GP surgery which I did. The receptionist was unable to help as Dr Mullaney, who made the 'urgent' referral, wasn't on duty to ask. All I know from the app is that I'm on a 'Rehabilitation Medicine' waiting list, whatever that is, but no information is communicated about how long the queue is, or what it leads to. It's like being inside a novel by Kafka. It seems the left hand of NHS services doesn't know what the right hand is doing. Just as well the wound seems to be drying out and isn't inflamed at the moment.

The drizzling rain eased off mid afternoon. I walked up and down Llandaff Fields for an hour before supper to clear my head and complete my daily step quota, despite physical tiredness. Without the acupuncture treatment I wouldn't have been able to summon the effort. Bed even earlier tonight.

NHS digtal shambles

A fairly good night's sleep, waking up to a cloudy sky and the prospect of rain again. I waited twenty minutes in the GP surgery telephone queue to get an appointment this afternoon for a wound inspection and referral to the Riverside clinic. I'd like to relieve Clare of the daily pressure of looking after something I can't take care of on my own.

The NHS app sent me a text message notification about messages awaiting me, so I logged in to my phone account and found half a dozen notifications from a six month period informing me that I was being sent a 'letter' about appointments with different specialist consultancies, with with insufficient detail about who I was meant to see in the specified department, be it cardiology or rehab. None of these corresponded with any letter I have received in the mail, although a couple of SMS notifications requesting confirmation of attendance did correspond. The latest notification relates to the appointment requested at Riverside wound clinic earlier this morning, except that I was told when I called the surgery earlier that the GP would have to authorise it. As I had an appointment this afternoon, I assumed it would be dealt with there and then. 

I don't know why, but after lunch the medication made me light headed and drowsy. I felt uncomfortably as if I was sleepwalking my way to the surgery to be examined by Dr Mullaney. She reassured me the buttock wound was behaving and that I wouldn't need more antibiotics. She then proceeded to flag up a visit to the wound clinic as 'urgent'

While waiting to be seen, I asked the receptionist about 'letter' notifications received on the NHS app and was told letters aren't being mailed out but sent electronically. Not that recipients have been informed of what to expect! I tried to log in on my phone to show messages received and the app refused to open in the surgery! I admit that the stroke and the meds I take mess cause my memory to work erratically at times, but the level of confusion generated by chaotic communication from the NHS is enough to make me think I have 'mental health issues'. I said this to Dr Mullaney. She smiled, with a look of resignation. I felt better for getting this off my chest I must admit.

After supper I walked up and down Llandaff Fields just after sunset under an overcast sky as it was getting dark. Then I joined Clare watching David Attenborough reminiscing and reflecting on his pioneering wildlife documentary series 'Life on Earth'. What a remarkable historic contribution to broadcasting he and his colleagues have made over the past half century, spanning the era in which colour television evolved from being a technical experiment to the default medium, making the innovative series even more attractive to watch from the outset.

A thousand people are now confirmed dead after the flash floods in the Nepalese Himalayas and 4,400 are still missing, whole villages wiped off the map. 900 school children were spared thanks to a timely alert from a staff member of a river of mud and debris sweeping down the valley destroying everything in its path. Hundreds of workers are trapped in tunnels belonging to a hydroelectric construction project buried by mud. How many glaciated landscapes around the world are now unstable because of global warming driving inhabitants down to lower safer altitudes? Together with eventual sea level rise, this reduces the area of land which earth's population can occupy with unforeseen economic and social consequences.

Bank holiday nightmare

I was in bed by 11:30 pm, but up again just after midnight with a nose bleed, despite taking precautions to avoid lying awkwardly. It didn't last long and I was able to avoid making a mess, but thereafter dozed the rest of the night sleeping propped up with a bucket by my side, after taking a beta blocker. The wound in my left nostril that caused the previous bleed the day before yesterday was starting to dry out so I thought. Was it a blood pressure surge, or an awkward move that triggered this one? Somehow I slept fairly well. nearly seven hours.

After a lull in the fighting, during which Trump announced heavy economic sanctions against Iran, hostilities have resumed with America targeting Iranian mine laying activities in the Straight of Hormuz and Iran firing missiles at US bases in Jordan and the United Arab Emirates. Iran promises to escalate the conflict further while calling for a return to the agreed terms of the Memorandum of Understanding signed in June.

I realised when I woke up that today is a Bank Holiday. It wasn't clear if the GP surgery was open to have the bum wound checked or get another prescription if needed, and get the nostril wound checked out. I want to ask for a referral to the Riverside wound clinic.  I called the NHS 111 for advice and a robot call handler said I was 87th in the queue. Information googled said the surgery was open. I went there after lunch. A notice on the door said it was open, but the door was locked. When I rattled the door a voice within said the surgery was closed. I went home and packed a bag with all I needed for a visit to A&E at UHW. Not that I wanted to return there after my previous dreadful experience. If I take a turn for the worse, at least I'm ready to go.

I was bothered to find I've almost run out of sterile wound dressing swabs. There's nowhere open to buy them today. To my relief a rummage through the medicine cabinet produced several unopened packs which have been there for the past six years. We can manage now until tomorrow when I will get an opportunity to see a doctor. Without Clare I couldn't manage at all, being unable to see what's happening in my nether region. Come to think of it, I don't remember how I looked after the surgical wound when I was on my own in Ibiza back in 2020, but I know how indebted I was to the Riverside wound clinic nurses during recovery from surgery.

It's getting dark noticeably earlier now. Early bed for both of us tonight

Tax return submitted at last

 A fairly good night's sleep, accompanied by the sound of heavy rainfall in the night and early morning. I went on my own to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, Clare and Owain went for a walk and a coffee avoiding the showers. When I returned from church Owain sat with me while I filled in my tax return, a task and a worry for me that's been outstanding since before I had the stroke. 

Up to that point I'd prepared the various figures and had them all written down in a special book. In the weeks after discharge from A&E I made a mess of logging in to my Government Gateway account and was locked out of it, when I couldn't provide correct details over the phone. Owain found the address and some weeks later I was put in contact with a most helpful man in Newcastle who talked me through reinstating the account. I had lost my nerve at that point regarding digital interactions to do with anything financial, and did nothing until the trauma receded to the point where my confidence and calm returned. 

With Owain at my side I logged into the HMRC web site, and into my bank account too, without needing any prompts. I hadn't forgotten anything. Both sites looked and operated the way I remembered them. The best part was having Owain talk me through the process like a tour guide - insightful and helpful. I don't think he needs to make a self assessment tax declaration as he's on PAYE, using the HMRC's own system, but familiarising himself with the self-assessment tax declaration was a useful exercise for him en passant It was interesting to hear his evaluation of the content and its delivery of information on the opening page of the form. Content design is what he does at work. After submitting the tax return, he added a comment on the feedback page noting a specific issue of user friendliness which he thought could easily be improved.

I was so relieved to have done this at last eleven months after starting on it, and so grateful to benefit from my son's professional expertise and calmness, enabling me to get up to date with my civic obligations. It's a small, less obvious aspect of stroke recovery that makes a difference. Admittedly my head was pretty clear and my focus was sharp while we worked together either side of eating lunch. It didn't prevent me from forgetting to take my lunchtime antibiotic. I'm still prone to distraction.

Owain left by taxi us to visit a friend after lunch. There was a cloudburst just after, and we noticed a large volume of water running down the wall outside of the kitchen window, but we couldn't figure out at what point in the roof guttering it was coming from. The gutter didn't appear to be broken or leaking. A close range inspection is needed.

After the rain stopped, Clare went out for a walk and I followed her twenty minutes later, but didn't walk for long due to drizzling rain. It rained for the rest of the evening so I didn't go out again. We had supper then I watched another episode of 'Ludwig' until it was time to get ready for bed. I finish the antibiotics tonight and need to see a GP tomorrow for an assessment of whether the buttock wound is healing as intended.

Unexpected bleeding

I was in bed by half past eleven last night, and woke up with a light nose bleed at ten past one. Exactly the same time as I woke up with the last bleed that put me in hospital. This time it stopped after taking a beta blocker tablet. My sleep quality was poor thereafter, and I was up at six thirty to the sound of heavy rain, to take my antibiotic. Up at nine for a pancake breakfast, during which my nose started to bleed again. 

A vein in my left nostril that burst before burst again. I sat in my armchair for more than an hour pressing on a vein in the bridge of the nose until it stopped and then fell asleep for half an hour, having taken another beta blocker. I think this works by reducing adrenalin, which in turn inhibits the volatility of blood pressure. The past five days of bum infection and keeping on track with antibiotics, (which thankfully are taking effect) I have been on the alert all the time, taking the meds punctually and with Clare's help keeping the wound safe and clean. It's been stressful to say the least, so no wonder excess adrenalin, and physical exhaustion have given me blood pressure problems and nose bleeds. 

I spent the morning and part of the afternoon resting, unable to do much trying to catch up on as much lost sleep as possible. There was little else I could do. Having rested enough to go to the shops, I got up out of my arm chair and was shocked to find blood dripping down my trouser leg. The boil on my buttock had torn open under pressure while I slept. What a mess to clear up!  Just then Clare returned from a walk, ministered first aid and got the wound stable. Strangely, it's less inflamed and sore now. It was a shocking experience, so unexpected. Eventually I walked to the shops and bought some sterile swabs from Boots and a bunch of carnation buds for Clare from Tesco's.

Owain arrived in the afternoon. He's staying the night and seeing friends tomorrow afternoon. We watched an episode of 'Ludwig' together - a detective drama series featuring an autistic puzzle setting expert whose eccentricities are part of the plot's situation comedy. The logic puzzles at the centre of the story move so fast I can't always follow them. Amusing but also irritating.

Unwanted services

I woke up at six thirty to take an antibiotic, but couldn't get back into deep sleep afterwards and got up at eight to a day of sunshine and showers. So far no torrential rain or flash flooding in Wales. Dry ground is softening and absorbing rainfall. So far, so good. The death toll continues to rise following the landslide and flash floods in Nepal, and there will be more to come as rain falls, adding to the waters dammed up behind the fallen rock and rubble, adding to the danger for rescue workers.

It's Kath's birthday today. She's busy rehearsing Sonrisa's next tour of their show 'Dance in the Dark', so no time for a proper celebration, so Clare and I sang her a Happy Birthday greeting on What'sApp instead.

Clare was already in the GP telephone queue trying to arrange a blood test for herself, and also mentioned that I needed a telephone consultation too. Dr Jordan called me after breakfast, giving me an opportunity to chase up my medication review request, explaining that the combined effect of the platelet lubricant and penicillin medications on my digestive system was making it difficult for me to function and ruining my quality of life. I don't know how this will be followed through. At least I have given the medics feedback on the treatment. The crater left by the erupting boil in my buttock is slowly drying and still tender. Wound dressing after emptying my bowels is tricky, but Clare is making a good job of making it comfortable for me to sit on. 

Yesterday, I received a British Gas Home Care letter exhorting me as a new customer to book service appointments. I had been awaiting a letter confirming the cancellation of this unwanted account, and the service hotline number we called was locked in a loop making it impossible to speak to a live human being. How could I know this wasn't a scam? I wrote a carefully worded letter of complaint to the company, giving an account of what had happened and stating that I intended to cancel the direct debit order. If I owed them a cancellation fee, I wanted them to invoice me for it by email and undertook to pay.

After lunch we went into town by bus to visit Santander Bank and cancel any direct debit in favour of British Gas Home Care. We learned that the amount of the cancellation fee had already been taken out of our account, but nothing more. The first instalment due for payment is scheduled for payment on the first of the month. I cancelled the direct debit order. Hopefully that will be the end of this troublesome affair.

Before going shopping for underpants, we had a cup of tea in Marks and Spencers. I was disappointed to be served tea in a tall cardboard cup. It took ages to cool down, and tasted of waxed paper. We should have made the effort to go to John Lewis' tea room instead and have tea delivered in a pot and drink from proper china cups. Not fine china, but definitely superior to the M&S offering.

After supper, Clare went out to a concert at St John's. My head cleared sufficiently to enable me to go out for a sunset walk. I finished the day watching the rest of 'Nora Sand'. It was so slow moving that it was difficult to retain sufficient concentration to grasp the detail of the plot. Ah well!

Himalayan tragedy

Up at six thirty to take an antibiotic, and manage the buttock wound at the trickiest time of day when my bowels empty. Thankfully Clare is at hand to sanitize it and apply a dressing. I slept fairly well, but not long enough. Tiredness is inescapable as I can't relax and sleep well enough while I'm in this condition. 

I dread to think what it's like for Nepalese people and their tourist trek guests in the wake of flash floods driving mudslides and destroying villages.  It seems a glacier collapse undermined by melt water and triggered a colossal landslide damming the valley below, building up water until it burst through, spilling rock and mud downhill. Essential infrastructure, roads, bridges hydro power generation and water supplies as well as telecommunications have been hit hard. 1,300 are reported missing and 350 dead.

Clare baked bread this morning and I cooked cod and veg for lunch, struggling with the faintness and swimming head that replaces hunger pangs on an empty stomach. I ate a large slice of banana cake before the meal to fend off the feeling while I cooked and took spoonfuls of kefir yogurt in the hope it would make me feel better. Eventually it did, but the 'toxic head' sensation was inescapable. I couldn't sleep, and walked up and down Llandaff Fields for an hour which improved matters a little. I don't know if it's the infection that makes me feel unwell or the impact of the antibiotic on my digestion, already suffering from the clot busting slow release capsules.

I realised that we didn't have suitable wound dressings in the house not long before the pharmacy was due to close. I didn't have the energy to rush out and buy some, my ankle was giving me trouble. Clare spared me the agony, went out and bought some then dressed the wound when she returned. I meant I could sit in comfort during the evening. My head cleared enough for me to watch a Danish crimmie called 'Nora Sand' on Walter Presents. It features a prize winning crime journalist whose team investigates the background of characters involved in a crime. They show up the weaknesses of Police detectives in advancing the case. It's intense in its portrayal of people involved and the relationships between them, and for that reason it's very slow moving - so much so that I started to doze off at one point. My life is beset with too much drowsiness as it. Time for bed. 

Fighting infection

I woke up at six to take the antibiotic, and had to get up at eight as my bowels were threatening to empty. It was messy as I was wearing a plaster over the burst boil. At a time like this I really miss having a bidet. With Clare's help, I got cleaned up and the wound dressed. I only had a fair night's sleep, but didn't feel too tired, and went to the St Catherine's Eucharist taking my bum cushion with me. As I was leaving, a big heavy bag of fish arrived from Ashton's to fill the freezer. It's a lot of work for Clare to package and label meal portion pieces individually, as she's very thorough. It makes meal preparation a lot easier for both of us on a day to day basis. 

Fr Andrew celebrated this morning with eight of us. I didn't stop for coffee and chat afterwards, but bought a pound of church garden cherry tomatoes from Hilary and left. I didn't feel like talking about my affliction to anyone. I went to the Co-op to buy kefir yogurt and came straight home. The aroma of salmon soup with sweet potato greeted me when I arrived - today's culinary treat. I slept in my arm chair for over an hour after we'd eaten, making up for waking up so early. Then, a circuit of Llandaff Fields in bright afternoon sunshine, at 26C with no breeze, so it felt hot. My feet hurt in a way that reminded me of daily walks after bum surgery, while my body was still getting rid of toxins and medication residue in my bloodstream. Without exercise then, recovery would have taken longer. No matter how uncomfortable, it's important to keep moving without overdoing the effort.

Iran and Oman have agreed to establish a temporary navigational corridor through the Straight of Hormuz although the waterway officially closed until the US lifts its blockade on Iranian ports. Trump persists in sanctioning any country trading with Iran. The Chinese government, a key energy trading partner has denounced American policy Meanwhile some ships are slipping through the Straight with their identifying transponder signals switched off. Trump claims 'a big victory' saying the waters are de-mined and fully functioning, but shipping data shows maritime traffic is severely restricted and well below pre-war levels. Trump's bullying rhetoric and lies will do nothing to boost his plummeting popularity. He's making a fool of himself. Iran claims to be rebuilding military capacity hit hard by American and Israeli strikes, importing weapons as well as manufacturing and rebuilding defence systems. Like China, Russia is there in the background unchallenged. Russia was already sanctioned due to the Ukraine war.

Reports are coming in of flash floods with mud slides in the Himalayas, on the border between Nepal and Tibetan China, with hundreds dead or missing and villages destroyed. Glacier ice melting as a result of global warming is the cause. Alpine villages in the lee of glaciers are increasingly at risk of being lost. It's impossible to predict when localised environmental collapses of this kind will happen, but it's inevitable more disasters of this kind will follow. Industrial world leaders, in their own interests denied there was such a serious crisis coming for too long. Now everyone pays, one way or another.

Boil

A good night's sleep. despite having to wake up and take an antibiotic on schedule at six thirty.  The infected buttock wasn't painful overnight, but I'm not sure what's happening with the small lump which seems to be a boil, and what I should do about it. All I can do is keep it clean and disinfect the area. During the morning the lump burst open. Definitely a boil. Messy but less uncomfortable, essential to keep the afflicted area clear and disinfected. Thank heavens for penicillin at work on the inside. 

I cooked lunch while Clare was out shopping. The combined effect of the antibiotics and regular medication in the hour before eating is hard to cope with, making me feel as if I'm about to collapse. I have to eat something calorific while cooking to avoid an accident.

It's cool and cloudy today, but increasingly muggy with a rare  weather warning for thunderstorms. After lunch, I went to the shops to get plasters from Boots and a mild liquid antiseptic from the Coop as Boots  sells everything apart from what I was looking for. Dettol is widely available, but too strong on sensitive areas, even diluted. Will TCP ever return to the shelves in Britain? The mile walk to the shops and back was a struggle against tiredness induced by the drugs if not infection. Penicillin is not kind to my digestion adding to the ill effect of the slow release capsules.

I went out before supper to post Kath's birthday card and walked until it was time to return for the news and 'The Archers'. Clare cooked a cheesecake recipe found on Instagram of all places, using thick Greek yoghurt  cooked with an egg and flavourings whisked into it. It had a slightly odd texture and I had trouble swallowing a mouthful as the penicillin degrades my digestive system juices ability to dissolve some foods easily and this affects swallowing certain foods. Such a shame.

Clare found a programme on iPlayer of classical music highlights recorded in 2025 and we watched it together. Star performances displaying interesting and informative subtitles to give them context. It was a consoling end to a difficult day.

Déjà vu - Infection

I slept well and was reasonably clear headed. I spent half an hour in the GP surgery telephone queue for an appointment before getting up for breakfast. Clare accompanied me to the surgery where I was fortunate  enough to be seen by Dr Dyban who looked after me when I had the nightmare of the anal abscess back in 2018. She saw the lump on my right buttock as a sign of infection in the surgical wound scar, and prescribed a strong antibiotic, penicillin. My temperature hasn't risen. I don't know if it's infection, or the clot busting medication alone that is making me feel poorly. If the inflamed muscles don't respond I'll have to go to A&E and have it lanced, something I dread. 

We collected a prescription from the pharmacy ordered on-line by Dr Dyban as I left the surgery, then went to the Coop for groceries. I carried them home while Clare went on to the library to collect a new bright red recycling bag. One of the Coop's flimsy recyclable bags burst and spilled its content on the street on my way back, making it a challenge to get the shopping home without losing anything. 

Clare cooked trout fillets for lunch. I was too agitated to rest afterward and went out for a walk to help my blood to circulate the antibiotic through infected muscles. 

Rachel sent a message asking us to send the details of the toilet seat bidet purchase which arrived without the correct plumbing adaptor for UK pipes so that she can raise the issue with the American nanufacturers. Tracking it on our on-line bank statement was as hard as finding a needle in a haystack. Eventually Clare's Amazon account came up with complete details of the order, so I took a screenshot and sent it to her

We watched the Musikverein open air Summer Concert broadcast live from the Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna. Bryn Terfel was the star solist, singing arias from Das Rheingold and Fiddler on the Roof. I was reminded of how moving and powerful it was when this concert took place during the covid pandemic. A carefully rehearsed act of defiance to the plague with all the health and safety measures implemented, to raise the spirits of people in lock-down all over Europe. A reminder to me right now to be very careful in how I cope with this infection.

Unwelcome ache

 A good night's sleep, waking up to sunshine and a clear sky and a fairly clear head. There were as many people in the choir as in the congregation at the St Catherine's Eucharist. Whatever else the meds may do to prevent another stroke or coronary, they dull my brain and impair reactions. The worst thing they do is to destablise my bowels with excessive wind and diarrhea and this has proved painful and bruising recently. My right buttock feels as if I've been kicked hard. The pain and discomfort reminds me of how this area felt when I had the anal abscess. Is this scarred muscle tissue being torn by pressure from emptying my bowels - collateral damage from a so-called life saving drug that ruins my quality of life? If I go to A&E today, quite apart from the long wait, the thought of another spell in hospital and maybe surgery fills me with dread. I haven't fully recovered from the assault on the senses of my last admission. If it doesn't get any worse, I'll go to the GP surgery tomorrow and ask for an assessment.

Clare didn't go to church with me this morning as she wanted to attend the Welsh service in the afternoon, so lunch was ready soon after I returned home. I slept for an hour and a half after the meal, then went for a walk around Llandaff Fields for another hour. Walking boosts the circulation which helps clear the head and ease the bruised buttock feeling. It's worth the effort.

After supper, I transcribed more of the Ulster travel diary. The way I write has changed a great deal in the years since then. I recognise the writer I was in those days, but don't think that I like the person I was back then. While it may read like a journalist's note book of observations and anecdotes, it's opinionated, rough and ready. It wasn't written with an audience in mind. Blogging has changed that for me, although I have never written for any particular group of readers and have no idea who the couple of dozen people are whose page visits are recorded after blogs are posted. It's the sense that somebody may be paying attention which drives me to express myself and my ideas as clearly as possible. I'll never know if I succeed in this. Enough for today. Sleep beckons.