Easter in the congregation

Another cold and sunny morning. Clare and I had breakfast on our own. Kath and Anto slept late and only surfaced after we left for the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were about fifty of us in church, Fr Rhys presided and preached, Bishop Rowan was in the pew with his family. Knowing his deep love of Eastern Orthodoxy we exchanged the Easter greeting in Greek, with smiles all round. I can't say that I enjoyed the service that much, though we sang familiar hymns, and Fr Rhys preached quite well. The atmosphere is convivial and domestic in a good way I guess, but it lacks the awe and sense of mystery I need. We didn't stay to socialise afterwards but returned home to spend time with Kath and Anto. Clare was keen to ensure that lunch was one the table by one. And it was so.

We went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields after lunch. I didn't expect to feel tired after a good night's sleep despite the change to summer time, but I did feel tired. It was different from the usual mental and emotional exhaustion associated with the intensity of Holy Week duties. It was more a physical tiredness from walking so much further yesterday.  

At tea time, Kath and Anto headed back to Kenilworth, to spend the evening with Rhiannon, who's been working at Warwick Castle again over the weekend. The sun is setting later tonight, but cloud has returned with the prospect of more rain. On discussing the state of the weather in Spain I checked on Malaga, weather, where it's twenty degrees, but also raining. Andalusia, however, needs as much rain as it can get after a lengthy drought. 

After supper, I went out to walk for another half hour as it was getting dark, then returned to watch 'This Town' a new drama serial on BBC1 set in the West Midlands in the early eighties. Kath and Anto were talking about it earlier as it was shot on location in both Coventry and East Birmingham. It takes us back to the time of the Handsworth riots, and IRA terrorism in Britain, partly crimmie, partly family drama with mixed race teenagers growing up and struggling to break with the legacy of their parents' generation, wanting to forge their own ways in life through musical creativity - the era of innovative Ska and Two Tone music. It's a  period piece well described visually with a promising first episode. A pity I'll be out of the country while most of the episodes are shown in the next month.

Churchwarden John emailed my 'carta de invitacion' covering my stay in Spain, identifying my duties and place of residence just in case I'm quizzed on arrival at the border. It's unlikely I'll need it, but having this just in case will ensure smooth passage. After the intensity of last night, Easter Sunday has felt flat. I'll be back on duty this week and for the next ten weeks. I wonder how I'll be when I return, and how I will feel without making myself useful. Addiction to making myself useful as a priest is something I need to tackle. I don't really know what else to shape my active life around, but it's time to open up to new things, even if I have no idea what that means yet.

Unforgettable initiation

I woke up early to a bright sunny day, though still chilly. We had a leisurely breakfast with added festive croissants and Easter eggs, delivered if not consumed. added. Then we walked into town accompanying  Owain who had to return home early to prepare for a deejaying gig this evening. He wanted to visit M&S to buy some socks, as Bristol no longer has a convenient city centre store, so we went with him and had a  coffee there once Owain left for the station. In the menswear section, he bumped into an old friend of his from the Cardiff techno scene, with whom he had corresponded only yesterday. Sheer coincidence, which gave pleasure to both of them. Anto hadn't been to the city centre for several years and was curious to see how different it looks as a result of the redevelopment, so I gave him a guided tour of all the new builds, then we walked home along the Taff.

We went to Stefanos for an early evening meal at five, so I could leave in good time to drive to St German's for the Easter Vigil at St German's by seven. When Basma arrived we went through the detail of the baptismal rite together with Peter and Hilary, her sponsors and James who looked after the practical details. Basma's daughter Maya and an English friend came with her. There's no better time in the year than Easter Eve for a baptism even if the services is rather long. 

My contribution was to simply to conduct the baptism rite. after the Liturgy of the Word, which included a thoughtful and appropriate sermon by Fr Jarel. Basma was understandably moved by the experience, having waited for so many years to be safe and free to proceed. I was nervous about forgetting the words of baptism in Arabic or pronouncing it incorrectly, but it came out right in the moment. Peter and Hilary her sponsors played their part and were also visibly moved, and several others said the same after the service. For Basma it's the end of one long journey and the beginning of another. Accompanying her to the font this past six months has been an experience I won't forget.

I stood in the sanctuary in silent prayer during the Eucharistic prayer and Communion, something I've done rarely, and this too was a beautiful way to be on the receiving end of the service at the climax of a  Triduum in which I had no other duties to perform.

I was home just after ten. My Fitbit sent me several notifications congratulating me in a patronising and childish way for walking 20,000 steps during the day, possibly the first time it has recorded my doing this. I found everyone had gone to bed already, anticipating the advancement of the clock by an hour. In fact all the house clocks but one had been put forward, so after a glass of wine, I also took advantage of an early night to rejoice in my bed, tired but happy.

In the pew for once on Good Friday

I woke up to bright sunshine after a good night's restorative sleep, and spent the morning quietly before going  to St German's by bus and on foot for the Liturgy of the Day which was at noon, the first hour of the suffering of the crucified Christ rather than the customary third hour. I'm not sure why. There were just over twenty of us for the service. 

I sent a message to Basma hoping she would come, but didn't realise until later that that she'd gone to London with a friend. She has been worried about going ahead with her baptism tomorrow night without having the letter notifying her of residency. Her case handler is clear that this is not in doubt, but the letter may be subect to bueraucratic delay. After several exchanges of email, she decided to go ahead and trust what she has been told. It's understandable she's like this having waited for nearly thirty years to convert

We sang well, unaccompanied for the two hymns set for the occasion, and Fr Jarel preached a short homily. The text of the Reproaches we used was a revision of the traditional ones with sharp contemporary references inserted, bringing the whole thing alive in a fresh way. Fr Jarel asked if I would stand in for someone who wasn't able to come, reading one of the parts set for the Passion, but I declined. Apart from the covid lockdown Passiontide, this is the first time in many years that I have had nothing to do during the Triduum, and I simply wanted to be on the receiving end and silently absorb the occasion. It's the first time I can recall coming away from a service not drained or over exhilarated by the effort and experience, but refreshed.

I caught the bus back into town and its arrival in Westgate Street coincided with the departure of a 61 bus, so I was home before two. After a snack I went for a walk in the park. After a sunny morning rain showers punctuated the afternoon. Kath, Anto and Owain were to arrive by six. While waiting for them, I watched the Malaga Good Friday processions broadcasted live on YouTube. At the moment I joined a woman in traditional dress was singing a saeta of lament outside the Ajuntamiento, not far from La Malagueta where I stayed on tours of locum duty in years past. Then I realised that she was singing in front of the trona del descendimiento, being carried by the portadores of the Malagueta cofradia. They had stopped in the place I took photos of them back in 2018. What a coincidence. Then I saw another procession down the street where the church of St John the Baptist is located, another familiar location. My memories of Malaga old town are still delightfully vivid.

I cooked a chick pea and veggie stew for supper with brown rice. Unfortunately I underestimated the volume of rice needed, and had to fall back on instant couscous to feed myself. But never mind, we drank a nice Gamay de Bourgogne to go with it, and chatted until bedtime. Lovely to have the family here, but missing Rachel. We didn't get to call her tonight unfortunately.

Alarming awakening

A rainy day with occasional thunder and even bursts of sunshine. At two thirty this morning the painful nagging bleep of a dying smoke alarm battery disrupted my sleep. I got up and with Clare's help holding the ladder attempted to change the battery, but failed to get the cover off to access the battery. I gave up an hour later and endured the remainder of a disturbed night's rest. 

I woke up at seven, posted today Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp and dozed for another hour before getting up for breakfast. Clare contacted an electrician mate of Owain's, who was helpful explaining how to get the cover off, but I was still unable to locate the slot harbouring the trigger for the cover release. It turned out to be on the side of the device that I couldn't see without taking a dangerous risk as it faced the void above the staircase.

I had to abandon my efforts in order to get to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist, giving myself time to calm down and say Morning Prayer before celebrating. Thankfully Rob, a techie neighbour of ours came and sorted the problem when I was out, in response to an appeal for help from Clare. There were nine of us altogether, including Father Andrew who turned up at the last minute and joined us. I think he was in the back office photocopying unnoticed as I was getting ready for the service.

We had salmon stew for lunch, using the carcass of the filleted fish Clare bought yesterday in the market when I got back from church. Then I went for a walk, and returned at four to meet Paula to finish off the Easter edition of Sway and send it out by Mailchimp. She's got the hang of it now, confident enough to go solo hereafter. Handover complete, job done. A satisfying feeling.

I had an email from churchwarden John in Nerja, with details surrounding my arrival, and a wedding date booked in late May. He and his wife will take me out for a Chinese meal on the evening of my arrival. I can't remember when last I ate in a Chinese restaurant. It's many decades ago.

After supper, Clare and I went to St German's for the Maundy Thursday Liturgy. There were twenty of us on a dark and rainy evening. The traditional rite simplified with the transfer of the Sacrament in silence and then the stripping of the altar was very effective I thought. We got back just after half past nine. 

Then I caught up on the day's events in a rainy Malaga, dipping into extracts on YouTube of the three hour video of the arrival of the Spanish Legion by ship, the march to the casa cofradia la Mena, and bringing out from San Domenico church next door of the huge image of Christ dead on the cross, known as el Cristo del Buen Muerte, for mounting on its trono. 

I've seen the disembarking in the flesh, but not the latter until now. I also listened to an interview with film star Antonio Banderas talking about the cultural, social and spiritual value of Semana Santa activities in our radically changing times, and understood enough to know what he was on about. Then bed early to try and make up for sleep lost last night

One of my happy places

I woke up to a morning of cloud and occasional showers. After breakfast I went on the bus to St Peter's Fairwater for the only Eucharist of the day, St Catherine's celebration have been cancelled in favour of a service of the Word this evening. As I was crossing the road to reach the 61 bus stop a bus passed in front of me, so I ran up the road behind it, about fifty metres, without running out of energy or getting terribly breathless. Then on the way back after the service, the same happened again, and I caught the bus, quite pleased with this minor achievement, without pushing myself too hard, or hurting myself.

Before the service Fr Andrew played Taize recorded chants, just the instrumental music, used as a backing track for congregational singing. It was a question of guessing the chant to pray with. One I recognised was 'Veni Sancte Spiritus Tui amoris ignam accende' which I learned on a Taize visit nearly thirty seven years ago. When Fr Andrew started singing just before the service began, he sang an English translation of the words I didn't know. It shows how out of touch I am I guess. 

A congregation of about twenty were present, the same number as regularly attend in my experience of taking services there. I may have been the only person attending from neighbouring Canton churches. Most faithful churchgoers are territorial, creatures of habit. If their routine service isn't available, they are reluctant to go elsewhere. They can change, but only if there's no longer any alternative and may just stop attending altogether, as happened during the pandemic closure of churches. I've been used to worshipping in many different ways and places throughout my adult life appreciating both routine and change, but what I seek when I'm on the receiving end is a quality of teaching and prayer from which I can learn, grow and be challenged. It's not getting any easier to find this nowadays, sad to say.

I got off the bus outside Victoria Park on the journey back, and walked around the park once before going home to fetch the veggie bag to go to Chapter and collect this week's order. Clare was in town shopping at Ashton's for fresh fish to freeze when I returned, so I started making a batch of bread and cooking lunch at the same time. I had more success with getting the dough mix right than I have for a while, so it was easier to work into a nice consistent mass for leavening. Lunch was ready not long after Clare arrived. After we'd eaten she went to Beanfreaks for groceries. I baked the bread, then went to the Co-op for the rest of the food we need for the coming weekend, when we'll have Owain, Kath and Anto staying.

After supper, I spent some time catching up on Semana Santa in Malaga. There's been rain again today, like Sunday, so no street processions apart from a brief excursion by the Jesus el Rico cofradia, which is charged with the official annual ceremony of freeing one prisoner, remitting the remainder of a sentence being served by one prison inmate from the city - imitating the gesture of Pilate freeing Barabbas. It's a Holy Week tradition which has persisted for the past 270 years. Again this year, it was someone serving a three years sentence for drug trafficking who gets early release for reformed behaviour. In the absence of video from today, I watched yesterday's footage on YouTube, and glimpsed a number of familiar places around Malaga's old town in which the processions are set. I have so many good memories of time spent in the city, it's one of those really 'happy places' in my life.

Then I finished watching 'Locked up - Oasis'. Its unnecessary portrayal of extreme violence in gunfights, like a Sam Peckinpah movie, is obscene in my opinion, as well as the plethora of confusing switches between past and present scenes. It was enough to deter me from watching the fifty one episodes of the original series, for which this is some sort of finale. Apart from listening to the Spanish dialogue and being able to understand a fair amount, it gave me no pleasure. 

Unfruitful?

Clare was up for breakfast before me, preparing for her study group meeting. When they arrived, I sat in the front room, prayed and read the news on-line rather than going out. We shared cooking lunch. She constructed the fish pie and I prepared veg for the steamer to go with it. It's funny how sometimes we can work together at the stove and not get in each other's way, and another time we can't. I have yet to figure out how and why.

After lunch I walked to Llandaff Cathedral and around the Fields for an hour and a half. The crocuses which supplanted the New Year snowdrops on the verges of the road across the top of Pontcanna Fields are now replaced by a prodigious growth of yellow celandines, in the past week. Later daffodil varieties still flourish but early flowering ones have largely faded away. Most of the flowering trees are covered in blossom now, and some have leaves breaking out of bud at the same time, producing an interesting mix of colours. I'm enjoying getting to grips with the Olympus PEN whose auto-focus is quick and sharp, except that occasionally it won't respond to a shutter press first time, as if it's making up its mind.

Construction work on the tennis courts to convert a quarter of the space into all weather cricket practice nets is now complete. It's an indication of just how popular serious amateur cricket is in Cardiff, with Asian, West Indian and British players. Groups play on well after the official match season end into autumn, and as long as the ground isn't too wet, a few go out and practice. A couple of astro turf strips marked with a wicket are placed in areas used for rugby as well, so a separate facility is going to be welcomed all round.

I returned home for an hour and then went out to St John's for the Eucharist, with a visit to Tesco's to buy our Foodbank grocery donation on the way. We were fourteen altogether. Fr Andrew guided us in a meditation on the story of Jesus cursing the fig tree, which was in the Gospel set for today. He asked us to imagine ourselves as a fig tree on a rural crossroad with Jesus passing by lamenting its unfruitfulness and condemning the tree to wither. 

I'm not comfortable with the idea that Jesus was a magician literally able to pronounce a death sentence on a tree, effective overnight. Interpreters see the fig tree as representing the children of Israel condemned to wither by their own failure to keep God's law, as happens in similar Old Testament parables. The evangelist portrays Jesus as divine judge acting out the parable. It's a symbolic rather than literal statement in my opinion.

I got stuck conjuring a single image, stuck between the fig tree sticking out of the garden wall of a house adjacent to Thompson's Park with branches hanging over the grass outside almost hidden by bushes, and a giant fig tree in the garden of a rural house I visited in Ibiza, so big it covered an area the size of a tennis court. You could walk around and through it but wasn't on any kind of thoroughfare. Apart from this, I got stuck with the notion of a fig tree with no fruit, as they tend to have fruit on them growing and maturing at the same time for much of the year, if my memory serves me well. 

The question is, do we see ourselves as unfruitful and withering away? Yes indeed, sometimes, but we can never really know how fruitful our lives have been. I couldn't imagine myself as a fig tree which symbolises a religious culture and its history. The question about fruitfulness does apply collectively as it's possible to review the past, but with a single person it's less easy. Think of creative geniuses like Van Gogh who died feeling a failure, unrecognised as the great artist he was. The service continued with laying on of hands for healing, then the Lord's Supper. I was left feeling bemused by this.

After supper when I got home, I did a little homework on the fig tree cursing story, then watched a couple of episodes of 'Locked up - Oasis' which has become more surreal and violent, suffused with reflections on the unforeseen consequences of treating others badly delivered by perpetrators. Is it some kind of effort to get inside the minds of cruel psychopathic people? Will I be any the wiser after the finale? Ya veremos.

IDP renewed

Cold and grey again today with occasional showers. After breakfast the weekly round of housework. One of the rechargeable batteries for the vacuum cleaner died. Last time this happened the manufacturers sent a replacement one for free, under the terms of the guarantee. Clare discovered that its expiry date is in a few weeks time and rang the manufacturers help line. A new one will be sent to us within a few days. On both occasions dropping the battery caused its demise. It's large and has four connected cells within, and due to its size it's vulnerable to impact damage. Due to its shape it's no east to handle with rheumaticky hands.

Having read a news article about International Driving Permits no longer being issued by the Post Office after April 1st, I was prompted to go and get mine while it's still convenient to do so, and went there mid morning. There were few people queuing to be served when I arrived. A customer in front of me was applying for one that would cover Canada, for which his passport was required. Fortunately the same does not apply for applications covering EU countries. 

By the time the two of us had been served, there was a queue of customers out of the door. The permits have to be written in by hand at the moment and a photo pasted into the card folder containing the details of the photocard license. It's fiddly and time consuming. No wonder the Post Office is giving up offering this as an exclusive service. In future, applicants will be dealt with in grocery stores where there's a Pay Point bill paying service.

When I got back, Clare had already cooked a lamb chop for my lunch. I took over and cooked sausages for her and veggies for both of us. We had hairdo appointments with Chris in Llanrumney in the afternoon and I drove us there. While he was dealing with Clare, I took a walk around the lake at nearby Parc Trederlech.

We were back home by five, so I had a quick early supper and left for Mass at St German's half an hour later, using public transport which took fifty minutes door to door in the rush hour. Fr Jarel celebrated with fifteen of us in the congregation. I begged a lift back as far as the city centre with another congregation member, then took a bus into Canton and walked the rest of the way home. I spent the evening until bed time watching a couple of episodes of 'Locked up'.

Holy Week, mostly in the pew

Another cold dry day with clouds and sunshine. Up at eight making breakfast, and listening to BBC Radio Four Sunday Worship, which combined extracts from a contemporary open air Passion Play performed in Trafalgar Square woven together with extracts from Bach's St John Passion. I would prefer it sung in the original German to the English translation which doesn't quite capture the harsh agony of the story in a way that matches the music. Apart from the obvious time constraint on the programme, I can't see a reason for omitting the final chorale, which builds from sad reflection to end in resurrection triumph. It was well done nevertheless, a welcome change.

I drove to St German's to join the congregation for Fr Jarel's first Sunday Mass with his new congregation, a full Palm Sunday liturgy, starting with a procession from the church hall. I was pleased that he preached a brief and fitting homily for the start of Holy Week. There were over forty of us in church. I counted four clergy in the congregation, with Fr Jarel with Fr Richard as Deacon at the altar. Afterwards I introduced Basma to her new parish priest, and welcomed him myself. Afterwards over coffee we considered how to cope with the uncertainty presented by the wait to hear about official confirmation of her residence permit, when she is so keen to be baptized next Saturday. It's hard having to wait so long for certainty but from the church's standpoint, whenever she can finally say she's ready to proceed, there will be a ready response.

It was twenty to two by the time I reached home for lunch kept warm for me by my ever patient Clare. After a couple of weeks recovering from a horrible coughing virus she went to the St Catherine's Eucharist this morning. After eating, I went for a walk with my new Olympus PEN, fitted with the 14-42mm lens bought with the OMD E-M10. It's a long while since I used it, as I prefer a longer telephoto lens. The wide angle lens requires more physical movement to position yourself for the best shot. It means a change of habit to get used to this. There's only a rear screen, no viewfinder. Even so, it's a nice camera to handle.

After supper I uploaded the handful of photos, did some writing and watched 'Antiques Roadshow'. Then I found a Spanish crimmie to watch, which is the latest in a series of stories about women in prison called 'Locked up'. I didn't watch the series when it first appeared on 'Walter Presents' a few years ago as I didn't think my Spanish comprehension was adequate, but now I find I can understand most of the dialogue. The fact that some of it is mumbled means I need to check the subtitles for details. The series was shot in the Almeria desert where many spaghetti western moves were made. The story is about a group of female crooks intent on a high status jewel theft during the wedding of a narco crime boss's daughter. It's presented confusingly, switching between present and past keeping you guessing, but is meant to be a sort of homage to movies about male banditry shot in the same area. Anyway, it's a good way to get my ear attuned before I go to Nerja, that's for sure.

New new start for St German's

Another cold and sunny day, getting up late, then Saturday pancakes for breakfast. I made another attempt to fathom the Lumix TZ95 camera settings, but with little success, despite watching a YouTube tutorial on how to change settings. Too complex for me. I'm after the simplest configuration as I use most cameras on Auto setting and tweak them if I'm not satisfied with the result. At midday I cooked an early lunch in an effort to go to St German's by public transport for Fr Jarel's licensing service at two.

I caught a bus to the city centre then went to the Beanfreaks shop in Royal Arcade to pick up a supply of vitamin B3 tablets ordered by Clare, to use in an effort to reduce the rate of glaucoma advancing.  Then I went to Cardiff Camera Centre in the Morgan Arcade to buy a new battery for my TZ95. The one that came with the camera (a display model bargain) isn't holding charge for long - fifty shots instead of three hundred. When I passed by the Olympus camera display case, I saw a Pen E-PL8 model on sale and asked how much the camera body alone would cost - I have three Micro Four Thirds lenses already. At £279 I thought it was affordable. The Pen E-PL8 has been on the market seven years and is praised for its image quality and portability. I was surprised to find it was in its original box with accessories. It looks as if it's had very little use. It's the same technical specification as my ten year old Olympus OMD E-M10.1, so there's no learning curve.

I didn't anticipate buying a camera when I set out, it took me longer than I expected to complete the deal. Rather than hanging around for a bus to Adamsdown, I walked to church in just twenty minutes and got there in good time. The church nave was full to capacity, and once the forty strong choir and procession of clergy entered, the chancel and nave crossing were full too. Over three hundred people! Between the clergy in the congregation and those who wore their robes for the occasion, a quarter of those present were clergy, including a contingent of Cardiff Methodists (Fr. Jarel is an ex Methodist), and many visiting from London where he was involved in theological education at St Mellitus College. He's going to be a breath of fresh air for St German's and the Ministry Area.

I had no desire to wear ministerial robes and sit with the clergy, for the service and sat right at the back instead to enjoy the service without being on display. Singing was magnificent, and Bishop Mary spoke well, rising to the occasion with good humour. The reception afterwards in the church hall was equally crowded, and it gave me an opportunity to greet old friends and colleagues. Jarel was busy greeting his visitors, so I didn't have a chance to introduce myself to him, but it can wait until tomorrow as I intend spending most of Holy Week at St German's, hoping and praying that Basma's residence permit will be confirmed in writing this coming week so she can be baptized a week today.

It was half past four by the time I left and caught a bus to the city centre. From there I walked through Bute Park to Blackweir and then home by half past five. At sunset a nearly full moon was rising in an almost clear sky. There were just a few fluffy clouds turned pink by the setting sun. It looked as if the moon was sailing through them at a leisurely pace. Later, when it was dark there were no clouds, but a high level haze which made only a few stars and planets visible from the loft window. At least the city horizon is no longer tinged yellow by sodium street lamps. New LED lighting is installed if possible to avoid upward glare to reduce light pollution. As time goes by, hopefully with electrification of all forms of transport, atmospheric pollution will reduce allowing the sky to be more translucent to light from heavenly bodies. My much moaned about TZ95 gave me some good moon shots, with enhanced auto setting on full zoom.

Apart from writing this, I spent the evening setting up my new camera and charging the battery. Looking forward to taking it out with me tomorrow afternoon. And to end the day, I read a few more pages of my Spanish novel.

Season ticket: end of an era

A cold but sunny day. Paula came by after breakfast to rehearse one tricky aspect of Sway, go through the Mailchimp routine and send it out from her computer. She's mastered Sway quicker than I did. Mailchimp is another story, however, and take getting used to. We'll continue to meet next week and the week after to repeat this together for practice, but in effect I'm now hands off, free of the editorial role. Now I can relax and ponder on the future of my own ministry in retirement for the first time in ages.

Coincidentally, Clare went early to the surgery for a blood pressure check-up this morning, and I went too later, just Paula and I parted company. Thankfully both of us are showing normal range readings now, but Clare has been prescribed a different hypertension medication for the first time, and so far no side effects.

Our National Trust membership cards expire at the end of the month, so we drove out to Dyffryn Gardens for a snack lunch and a walk around the estate, clockwise for a change instead of anti-clockwise. It gave a set of views of the garden landscape different from the ones we're familiar with. The grass is decorated with a sprinkling of Celandines just now, tulips are coming out and as the magnolia blossoms fade and fall other flowering trees take their turn to show off their colour. 

The place is ready for Easter holiday visitors and children's Easter egg play activities, and the grassed parking area outside has acquired stretches of metal decking to denote walkways next to which cars can line up and park. A pleasant three hours in the middle of the day. We've decided not to renew our membership as we don't use it enough to justify the expenditure any longer. If we return on occasions, we'll have to pay the normal entrance fee. After we reached home, I walked to Tesco's to get flowers for Clare.

I've been struggling to get used to my Lumix TZ95 lately. It took some lovely photos at Dyffryn, but it doesn't always behave in a way I understand. It's very sophisticated in what it can do, and its menus are complex so I'm unsure of what I am doing. It has a touch screen which allows one to determine the focus point of the subject you are photographing. The trouble is that when you look through its viewfinder, your nose touches the screen and sets the focus point in a place you may not want it to. Sometimes touching the screen causes the camera to bleep, which I take to be an error message, but what kind of error isn't obvious. Finding and retaining the setting that will deactivate a facility I don't need or want is proving very frustrating. Googling the subject is unhelpful. I will have to work my way through the handful of video talks about the camera on YouTube and hope to glean the information I need to prevent my nose from setting the focus point.

While I was investigating this, Clare was cooking supper. We had baked potatoes with lava bread from Ashton's in the market, with smoked herring from Tesco's, a delicious combination of seafoods worth trying out. I carried on searching after supper and made a little progress, but not enough to feel I have any real control of the camera. I stopped at nine to watch this week's new episode of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' and then continued writing this until bed time.

Scan follow-up

I woke up at seven, posted today's YouTube Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp, then fell asleep sitting up until five to nine. Not the best position unfortunately, as it took an hour for my head to clear, walking to St John's to open up and prepare for the Eucharist as Ruth, who usually does this is unwell at the moment. Fr Andrew celebrated with five of us. 

A couple of times lately, a young woman joined us for the service who asked for a blessing at communion. She said she's a post grad nursing student, working on a dissertation. She mentioned cryptically that she attends church on Sundays, though none of the regular worshippers had seen her though I think I have, arriving at the end of our service with members of the Russian Orthodox congregation to prepare for their Liturgy, which follows ours. When I was celebrating, I noticed she made the sign of the Cross Eastern style - right to left, rather than left to right. Which was a small clue. It's good she feels able do this and is at ease with our concise, much simpler kind of worship.

Clare called to say she was shopping for a new mattress cover for the attic bed which got split during the recent work done on the roof and in the loft. Could I find out the depth of mattress and send it to her as there's more than one size available? As soon as I reached home I measured it and sent her the details. The loft looks great now that the new Velux window blinds have been fitted, and the paintwork touched up by Clare. Instead of dark brown fabric, the new blinds are pale great, which enhances the room when lit up at night with the blinds drawn.

I received a letter from UHW with an appointment for an MRI scan of my liver, a follow up from the gall bladder operation called for the operating surgeon, I wasn't aware would happen. It was booked for 22nd April, when I'm in Spain, so I had to call the Radiology Department and request a postponement, I was offered an appointment on 19th May, when I'm still away. The system doesn't allow for bookings more than two months ahead apparently, so I am obliged to call again a week or so before the date given and ask for another postponement. The lady I spoke to said she would annotate the entry to this effect. It seems that if an appointment is missed or postponed too many times, the patient has to refer themselves back to the consultant and go through the same procedure again. We'll see if this annotation survives on the system until the next time I call.

I cooked prawns with rice and veg for lunch. It was meant to be a risotto, but mistakenly I used paella rice instead of arborio. It could have been either a paella or a risotto. It was ready just as Clare came through the door, brandishing bargain bed linen. I was pleased with the result.

After eating I made a video slideshow of Easter Week Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube, then went for a walk up to the Cathedral and on to Llandaff weir for a change. Though there was a chill wind the sun shone through the clouds and walking was pleasant. I felt less tired than yesterday and walked further. 

It's strange at this time of year to have so much time on my hands, but with no preaching assignments to prepare for Holy Week and Easter, the only thing I have to prepare for is my first Sunday in Nerja. As my flight arrives Saturday afternoon, there'll be quite a lot to familiarise myself with in the chaplaincy house and getting myself to San Miguel on Sunday morning. If using a car is necessary, I need to know how near to the church I'll be able to park. The journey time from house to church may be less than ten minutes, but ten minutes walk across town may be needed as well. I have no answers to these details until I arrive. With time taken up by these matters, I'd rather have a sermon ready rather than writing one last minute. Already I've done a draft, but I still have a fortnight to work on it and print it off.

So, after supper, with nothing better to do, I watched the rest of 'Top Dog' and a few episodes of 'Bones', and then headed for bed, under the Spring Equinox moon.

App Annoyance

Cooler and cloudy today, a return to colder weather predicted for the weekend. I went to St Catherine's and celebrated the Eucharist with six others and collected this week's veg bag from Chapter on the way home.  For lunch instead of a veggie burger Clare cooked me a lamb chop with brown onion gravy complemented with butternut squash, an excellent combination of sweet and savoury, one to remember for another time.

While Clare had a flute lesson after lunch I went to the Coop for groceries. When I returned, Clare took a turn with the shopping trolley to go to Beanfreaks. While she was out and I had the house to myself, I took advantage of the quiet to record Easter Thursday Morning Prayer and Reflection, and edited it. Having received a notification about checking in for my outgoing flight to Malaga, I went to the EasyJet website and got my boarding pass, using my Chromebook, and transferred the barcoded ticket to my phone. I also installed the EasyJet app on my phone for convenience but not without difficulty as installation forced me to reset my memorised password. It seems the criteria for setting one have changed again, to make it that much harder to hack. Fair enough I suppose, but annoying when I had to repeat the performance on my Chromebook, despite Chrome OS efficiently replicating the password change on a different device. 

Another annoyance was clicking the notification email's web-link saying 'Manage Bookings', and finding that it took me to the EasyJet home page with the last flight booking I'd made displayed in a box, as if I was about to book it. There was a secondary 'Manage Bookings' box which popped up and then vanished, so had to hunt for that page, on top of the login hassles. Too much information, too complex to work as it should to and give you what you want first go, and yet such a site has so much information about me and my current flight bookings, you'd think this would be easy. Will AI be able to improve this? I doubt it. Last night I similar issues with the Post Office Travel Money card app on my phone, which will not allow me to enter my password, as the keyboard pops up and the vanishes in an instant. It's been like this for months. I can access the account easily through Chrome browser, but the print is a bit smaller. What a waste of an app!

I remembered a couple of items I needed but forgot to buy for myself and went back to the shops on Cowbridge Road East. On the way back I discovered that R J Berry butcher's shop has closed after 32 years of trading, probably because the man himself is retiring. His shop is where we've bought the festive turkey, sausage stuffing and pigs in blankets in those years we have hosted family Christmas in Meadow Street. Although I only bought meat and sausages there occasionally, he always remembered my name. An old fashioned food retailer with a long memory and personal touch. Next time round, it'll be one of the traditional butchers in Cardiff Market we go to for the best meat. Meat for the boys too - it's only Anto, Owain and myself who are the family omnivores.

After supper, I continued watching 'Top Dog' for the rest of the evening, and made an effort to go to bed earlier, so it won't be a shock when the clocks go forward.

Blossom time

Another pleasantly mild dry day, no need for a top coat outdoors again. I spent the morning working on a reflection for Easter Thursday Morning Prayer, making an effort to get as much prepared as possible so I can spend Easter Week getting ready to leave for Spain. There were a few messages to deal with about the Sway handover too. It all takes time to get things to go smoothly. Again today it was coming up to one and neither of us had realised how late it was. I got busy and cooked an easy lunch of steamed veg with cod in a separate pan on top of the steamer. Twenty minutes later and we were sitting down to eat.

After lunch, I needed a snooze in the chair having had a disturbed night's sleep. Then I went for a walk over to Bute Park and back.  I paused to take a photo of blossom on one of the trees in the park alongside Penhill Road. A tall man with Japanese features was passing by. He smiled and gave me a thumbs up. On the other side of the world it's also cherry blossom time, when Japanese people flock to parks and forests to catch sight of the first blossom of spring. Such joy in natural pleasures that unite us wherever we are. It happened to me last year as well, when I met a smiling Japanese lady photographing the blossom with her phone? Or were both these people Korean I wonder, for they too love blossom time, I believe, and there's certainly a noticeable Korean community in South Wales, with its own church and pastor in Cathays.

I walked to the top end of Llandaff Fields and down the slip road connecting to Western Avenue. Along the pavement are numbers at intervals written in red and yellow spray paint, marking where several tests have been made recently by gas engineers. One of them was working there when I passed by there a few days ago. A couple of months ago a section of the road was dug up and lay open for several weeks. The smell of leaking gas had led to this excavation. It seems the problem wasn't fixed as the smell of gas never really went away, and complaints about it still kept coming in. 

The engineer I spoke with said that the leak could be anywhere in the 250m stretch of piping beneath the slip road, and it was likely it would all have to be dug up, so that the old iron gas mains piping could be replaced. This afternoon I saw a Western Power Distribution Company lorry parked at the roadside with safety barriers on board, ready to cordon off a stretch of road. Or maybe collect the ones dumped in the hedge beside the path after the last excavation. However much or little they dig up at a time, it's going to create traffic congestion. 

Further on down Western Avenue before turning again to go to Bute Park via Blackweir Bridge, I saw that Llandaff Rugby Club was cordoned off with police crime scene tape. Several police vehicles were parked on the forecourt there. Yesterday, I came across a local news item about a man in his sixties being found dead at three in the morning in the lane beside the club. A demise in need of explanation it seems.

The grass verge of the Bute Park woodland is a sea of daffodils at the moment, several different varieties, a delight to see. There are lots of other less conspicuous wild flowers in among the grass, arriving early as a result of milder weather and a respite from heavy rain this past week. I returned via the Millennium Bridge and went up-river as far as Blackweir before heading home. An interesting walk today.

After supper, I had some messages about Sway to deal with, and wrote for a while before watching a couple of episodes of 'Top Dog' series two, just released, about corrupt municipal government linked to organised crime in a provincial town. It's one of those series in which it's hard to recall who is related to who in an extended Balkan family network let alone who knows who in business. It was the same in series one as I recall. Worth watching anyway.   

From cash to cards over fifty years

Another mild day, with a temperature of 16C, sunshine veiled by high cloud. After breakfast I had a few emails to answer, and some other writing to do. Clare was in the loft painting the Velux window surround so the morning slipped by quickly without either of us noticing it was nearly lunchtime. I set to work on a lentil, veg and couscous dish at ten to one, and by ten past, was serving it up. Fresh fast food!

After we'd eaten, I went to to Coop for some fresh fruit and tried out my digital Coop membership card for the first time. Last Thursday, the little plastic key ring tag version of the card broke in two. Ordering a new one is a hassle, so I put the pieces together took a photograph, and imported it into app that would turn the bar code on the card into a QR code, and then added this to my Google Wallet app, used so far only for the car park ticket at the opera. I wasn't sure it would work, as the photo was of a bar code with a fine crack in it, but the outcome was a success. I did the same also with my Tesco clubcard.

On Saturday morning last a new Santander credit card arrived, following the debit card issue to go with the new Edge account a couple of weeks ago. The new generation of plastic relies on its embedded RFID data chip and the account details printed on the card, no longer in raised embossed letters, as the kind of mechanical card reading machines in use since the seventies has been phased out. I remember using one of early Access credit cards back in the late seventies, front loaded with sterling currency, and then using to withdraw French Francs when camping outside Annecy. I got a tiny amount of interest doing this, rather than paying interest. I don't think this anomaly lasted very long. 

How the finance industry has changed since then! Now I can pay in euros with a Santander debit or credit card and not get charged exchange fees if a Santander ATM is used. The exchange rate won't be the best available, but it is valuable. I can load up a Post Office Money Card with any of a range of dozens of currencies bought here via my debit card, and then use it as a debit card, with the advantage of checking budget expenditure via a phone app, if needed. It's quite hand for me, as I won't have mobile banking on my phone, just in case ...

After shopping a walk in Pontcanna Fields, and after supper, reading my Spanish novel until bed time.

Ireland's Day

A fair night's sleep, awakening to a mild, cloudy St Patrick's day with Sunday Worship coming from The National Cathedral of St Patrick in Dublin, with some glorious singing and an engaging sermon about one of Ireland's two Patron Saints, the other being St Brigid of Kildare. Dublin is an unusual city because it has two Anglican Cathedrals. And this in a predominantly catholic country too! St Patrick's doesn't have a diocesan Bishop, but serves the whole of the island of Ireland's Anglican faithful as a focal point since the disestablishment of other C of I in 1880. There's a separate Cathedral of Christ Church which is the see of the Anglican Archbishop of Dublin and Glenaldough. Both buildings are 11-12th century. I recall visiting them on a trip we made to Dublin when I did a holiday locum in Newcastle County Down fifty years ago.

The city centre was quiet when I travelled across the city centre to attend Mass at St German's. There were forty of us in church altogether, an encouragingly diverse congregation nowadays reflecting the locality, reflecting I think post brexit changes in population with new non-european workers staffing the Infirmary nearby, plus students and asylum seekers. It was good hearing Reader Mike Cook preaching again thoughtfully. Fr. Stewart is moving painfully around the alter, and up and down the steps, due to his worn out knee joint in need of  replacement. I hope it happens soon, as he's been waiting for about four years. 

There was a congregational meeting after the service to elect representatives for church warden and Ministry Area Council, which then turned to planning the hospitality for Fr. Jarel's licensing service next Saturday. The meeting went on until three, I heard later. Basma and I went into the church hall and I took her through the responses in the baptism part of the Easter Vigil service. It's difficult to grasp if you've never experienced this liturgy before. We parted company at one, but I had to drive to Tesco's to get some petrol for the car on the way home. I alerted Clare in advance, so she waited patiently for me so we could eat together.

We went out for our different distance walks later in the afternoon, enjoying sunshine as the earlier cloud cleared for a while. After supper, I continued watching 'The Lost' which concluded in a partial resolution of crimes committed, but disappointingly left an ending suggesting there'll be a series two, like or not. What I did like was the portrayal of a Maori community funeral gathering, with poetic speeches made and laments chanted. As the story had an Irish family in it, we were also treated to the Gaelic original of a song called 'The Parting Glass', which I remember my late lamented friend David Barker singing when we made music together in our student days. The rest of the detective story showcased all the latest crime busting technology used by police worldwide these days - well, at least where there's a strong enough internet signal. Today is definitely Ireland's day today winning the Six Nations International Rugby championship again this year. 

Terminology

Another day of clouds and intermittent light rain, rising late to a pancake breakfast. No duties tomorrow so no sermon to prepare, but Basma's baptism to prepare for. After breakfast I sent her the last of the eighteen catachetical talks I devised for her, and a copy of the adult rite of baptism, which sparked an exchange of emails about godparents. I explained that these weren't needed for adults, but are replaced by sponsors to present her and assist in the ceremony. 

My explanation didn't take into account that the word 'sponsor' has a much more extensive set of meanings in the secular world of politics, law and finance and that its use in the setting of religious ritual is unusual, and somewhat ambiguous. A dictionary check revealed that the word sponsor is derived from a Latin word which means 'to promise solemnly' in other words, a commitment of some kind. The sponsor's commitment in baptism or confirmation is to accompany a candidate and support them throughout the ceremony, presenting them to the priest or bishop at the outset. Fine once you know, but you cannot assume this is obvious or common knowledge, I realised eventually. Lesson learned. She has now asked Hilary and Peter to be her sponsors, and they have accepted.

Somehow, this took up the whole morning, and it was two by the time we sat down to lunch, having made a meal of veggies with Japanese noodles for a change. I snoozed in the chair afterwards, and when I woke up it was gone four and raining, so I donned full rain gear and braved the weather for a walk down to the river and back. Clare went out later than I. We met by chance near Blackweir Bridge and walked back together, for tea and a slice of date and walnut cake.

After supper I found something new to watch on BBC4, an unusual crimmie set in New Zealand involving an Irish expatriat family, with English sub-titles for the Maori dialogue. It's a NZ-Irish co-production. The first episode went live this evening but all episodes are available on BBC iPlayer, which is convenient if you have time to spare to watch more than one episode in an evening.

Handing over Sway

A day without rain with occasional glimpses of the sun. Paula came after breakfast for another session to familiarize herself with the workings of Sway and Mailchimp. We managed to cover all the key elements get her laptop logged in to the church office Mailchimp account, editing the covering email containing this week's link to Sway and sending it to recipients. For the first time since I took on the job at the end of last August, the job has been completed on a computer not my own. Paul will prepare next week's edition and we'll have a similar session side by side, going through the mailshot routine in case there are queries of any kind. I was determined that there would be a proper relaxed handover. I wouldn't wish anyone to go through my introduction to Sway and Mailchimp. Our parish e-newsletter will be in good hands hereafter.

Clare cooked lunch while we worked. We had tofu with veg for a change, with millet instead of spuds, rice or couscous. It has a very palatable texture and mild flavour that would be good to go with different sauces. I think we should eat this cooked grain more often than we have done up to now.

After lunch while Clare was having a siesta I recorded Maundy Thursday's Morning Prayer and Reflection then edited it, made the video slideshow and uploaded it to YouTube in just over two and a half hours of relaxed work without distraction. It's a sign of being under less stress, thanks both to gall bladder removal and the end of the clergy vacancy and its attendant worries. An email arrived from Fr Stewart after his meeting with Fr Jarel before his licensing to take charge of St German's. He's happy for me to baptize Basma. Details now to be arranged!

I enjoyed a brisk two hour walk, during which a caught sight of a jay up in a tree in an area where I've not seen one before. I stopped and stalked it with a camera for five minutes, and more by luck and persistence than anything else, I got a decent shot, adding to my pleasure.

After supper, I spent an hour going through my photos stored on portable had drives in search of one that I took of a huge dead tree near the playground entrance to Pontcanna Fields. The one I found dated back to the year it died. No new leaves, branches drying out but twigs not yet dry and brittle enough to blow off in a strong wind. As the twigs were stripped, the dried out bark dropped off, leaving a bare silver skeleton, imposing, dramatically beautiful, flanked by two live trees. I thought I'd taken a photo of it in its final state before it was felled, but it seems not, unless it was filed somewhere incorrectly. What a shame!

Quite by chance, checking to see what was on telly tonight, I found that More Four is just starting to show series three episodes of Astrid: Murders in Paris, just twenty minutes before it began. It's the same mixture of comedy, problem solving and drama, showcasing gifted autistic savants exercising their special gifts. Its light hearted feelgood ethos is a casual cloak for serious current issues on the criminal front. 

Tonight's episode was about a manipulative conspiracy theorist with an anti government strategy to foment protest and social disorder. Russian fake news campaigning was cited, but turned out to be a false lead. This was about a journalist making a film documentary about an astronomer and editing his footage to distort the truth. The astronomer is killed after realising he's been deceived and about to go public. It reflects the way in which someone whose sources go un-checked can lead many astray and sow chaos. This scenario was documented recently in real life cases by John Ronson, in a radio series called 'Things fell apart'. The story would have been harder to follow if I hadn't listened to his investigation before seeing this tonight.

Video perils

I woke up at seven and set about posting today's Morning Prayer YouTube video link to Whats App, and discovered in the nick of time that I'd mistakenly uploaded last week's video twice, and disguised it with an image to represent this week's video. Ooops! I dashed downstairs, turned on the internet and my laptop, found today's video, uploaded it to YouTube, and posted the new link. I was back in bed within fifteen minutes, and dozed with the radio on until nearly nine.

After breakfast, I walked to St John's and celebrated the Eucharist with five others. Over coffee afterwards Ruth and I shared experiences of mishaps when recording Morning Prayer; hubby starting hoovering, vans or noisy ambulances out in the street, forgetting to stop a recording promptly and including remarks like 'Thank heavens that's done now.' Unfortunately she hasn't mastered the art of simple editing, so errors can't be removed, so she has to re-record. How daunting.

I returned from church and cooked lunch. Afterwards, I read my Spanish novel for an hour, then went into town on foot, but it started to rain, so I waited underneath the awning outside the Danish bakery and coffee shop on Romilly Road, until I caught sight of a 61 bus, then ran seventy yards to the stop, just in time. I popped into Cardiff Camera Centre to see if there were any second hand Olympus E-M10.2 cameras for sale.  There was one but it was £480, out of my price range sadly, as my E-M10.2 is so old there's no interest in taking it in part exchange. I also had a look for bargains in John Lewis', but again prices are high at the moment. It's a matter of wait and see.

As I was going into the store I had a phone call from a very excited Basma, to say that her asylum request has been granted so it's possible to go ahead with her baptism on Easter Eve. It's now a question of making the arrangements. I don't know whether there'll be an Easter Vigil in Roath Ministry Area. I hope it will be at St German's. I called Fr Stewart, but had to leave him a voice message. As I have no commitments, I'll be able to participate in her baptism. She's keen for me to do it as I've been preparing her for this great day, the climax of a thirty year journey on her part. 

I made my way home avoiding the worst of the rain as best I could, but still got pretty wet. After supper with nothing better to do I watched another episode of 'Bones', and then read some more before turning in for the night.

Digitized fortress Europe

A cloudy start to the day with only a few showers of rain later on. It was gone nine when I woke up having switched the radio on and listened to 'Thought for the Day', then gone back to sleep. Another sign maybe, of slowly unwinding and letting go after the pressure of the past six months.

I walked to St Catherine's to celebrate the Eucharist. There were eleven of us today. At coffee afterwards, I share our incoming and outgoing flight times with Ann and Paul as they offered to collect Clare and I from Cardiff Airport and take me back there when I fly out again three days later. Paul told me about the change in procedure at EU airports a few days before our trip. As part of new ETIAS visa requirements, we'll have our fingerprints taken and added to passport data held by border control before we fly out of Malaga. 

The on-line visa application process won't be implemented until next year. It's the EU's equivalent of the American entry visa system. Starting the acquisition of fingerprint data this early makes good sense, as it lightens next year's workload and consequent delays at border control for frequent travellers. Europe is becoming a digitized fortress. Until the hackers sabotage the system or fingerprint data is lost or corrupted by accident or incompetence. Rolling this out over twenty seven countries is a huge job, given inevitable variation in standards between countries. There'll be border chaos everywhere if this turns out to be the equivalent to the Tower of Babel.

After lunch I went for a walk to Blackweir Bridge. The Taff water level was up to the top of the fish ladder again. We've had a week of dampness, drizzle and occasionally heavy showers, so the saturation of the turf has diminished enough for the games pitches to host football and rugby matches again and  not turn into a swamp, thanks in part to a daytime air temperature of 11-13C, plus wind. Inland there's been a lot more rain, and flood warnings posted by the Met office. and this shows up down stream over the following days.

A letter from my ISA provider arrived in today's post confirming the transfer of the balance to our joint account, covering the other half of the new roof cost. Over the last three years it's not performed well, any more than the UK economy has. Santander, for the time being, has a healthy rate of interest, so it's not losing value.. I can always open another ISA if circumstances change. It's a relief to think that we're still living within our means despite inflation and the steep rise in cost of living, but it might be due to the fact that we've not been doing much or going far since last summer. After the Nerja locum, I don't have any more commitments lined up, so we'll be much freer to travel, health permitting. These day we have to plan carefully, no longer good at being spontaneous.

After supper I worked on a reflection for Maundy Thursday, then took a break with an episode of 'Bones', and finished the day with a few pages of my Spanish novel.

Hummus and chutney day

Rain again today, mostly fine misty rain. I worked with Paula remotely on Sway, a little test exercise to see how easy co-editing would be, then cooked lunch and made a batch of hummus with chick peas from the freezer, and some which I cooked yesterday. 

After lunch I slept in the chair for an hour, making up for a disturbed night then I went and did the Coop grocery shopping for the week. It was drizzling and I took an umbrella which was impossible to manage with a shopping trolley in the the other hand, as there were gusts of wind to contend with. I won't do that again. The drizzle stopped by the time I reached home, so I walked in the park after unloading the shopping trolley. It wasn't particularly cold, but dampness in the air seemed to make my leg muscles stiffer than usual so completing my daily distance was an effort.

When I left Martin's yesterday he gave me a couple of kilos of South African dates from a large catering sized box he bought at his favourite greengrocer's in Newport High Street. Rather than just eat them all in the next couple of weeks, I decided to turn some of them into date chutney. As we had the ingredients in just the right amounts, I de-stoned the dates, chopped the onions and cooking apple, and stewed them in a pan with vinegar and brown sugar. Two hours later I filled eight half pound jam jars with chutney, and felt great satisfaction. 

While pot-watching I carried on reading 'Travesuras de la nina mala'. It's the first time I've felt like reading for a good while.  I think I'm starting to relax now that Andrew is in post, and I'm handing over my Sway duties to Paula. I have a few weekday services to take this week and weeks following but no Sunday services or sermons to think about. I can't remember when was the last time that I had so little to do over Holy Week and Easter. It's an opportunity to be less active and more contemplative. I'm not sure how I'll benefit from this, but carpe diem, when there's no alternative.