Halloween bed buy

A decent night's rest despite the usual sleep loss from getting up to pee. Clare was up before me cooking buckwheat pancakes for breakfast. We took a taxi to IKEA in search of a suitably supportive single bed. Our taxi driver was an Iranian woman. We chatted about music, she played us a track of a popular Iranian artist singing in Farsi, and then an artist singing in Turkish as we drove down to Grangetown. I find the layout of IKEA daunting to navigate. It has a certain logic to it and lots of informative signs perhaps too many. There are shortcuts between sections if you're sure where you want to go and no natural light. I felt disoriented and unsure of how to reach the exit, by passing the tills if you're not carrying a shopping basket as you can't see the escalator clearly from a distance. There was a good choice of beds to try, single and double, firm and medium firm.

After we'd chosen a bed and arranged delivery we had a payment nightmare. Clare used a credit card to obtain cash back on the purchase, but forgot the correct pin number and was locked out. I used my card on the same account and was also locked out even though I had the pin written in a secret file on my phone. I hadn't used any credit card since before covid struck. The pin number I had recorded may have been for the CBS company card last used before covid and cancelled when we wound up the business. I must have removed the wrong pin number from my secret file. In the end we used a debit card to pay, then took a bus into town. Fortunately Santander bank was open so we were able to take immediate action to order new pin numbers. They'll be posted to us next week. Neither of us uses a credit card often. If we did, it would be for occasional on-line purchases rather than a substitute for a debit card. 

On our way to take the bus home Clare visited the St Mary Street Tesco's to buy a bag of sweet treats to hand out to trick and treat visitors after dark. I was tired when we got back and slept for twenty minutes in my armchair before going for a walk at sunset. In the neighbourhood houses are decorated with imitation cobwebs and pumpkins or spooky lanterns. Clare carved a face on the pumpkin she bought last week after removing the flesh and making soup and a pumpkin pie with it. Having it lit up after dark guaranteed visits from kids in fancy dress accompanied by parents. Supper was interrupted several times as a result. She ran out of sweets and raided the chocolate biscuit tin and her store of small food bags for the last couple of visitor treats. So thoughtful, and an opportunity for her to enjoy a few moments of playfulness with kids of the age she used to work with in eurythmy classes.

Another episode of 'Blue Lights' to finish the day

Bed hunt

A fair night's sleep, but not good enough to prevent me from feeling stiffness in my neck, shoulders and back. The lower back pain is easing so I didn't need an ibuprofen to get mobile.

Tragic news in central Spain where a high speed train near Toledo crashed into a stationary one yesterday morning killing 69 people. It's the second high speed train crash this year, following one which killed 46 in Cordoba province in January. There seems to have been a signalling failure and a communication failure between the control room and the driver. A shocked country is in mourning with football matches cancelled and election campaigning suspended. Spain's transport infrastructure is modern, reliable and well used for business and leisure, but this has badly shaken public confidence.

We had rice with tofu mushrooms and onions for lunch. It's the first time I've cooked tofu. I tried to make it taste interesting  with ground ginger, cardamom, coriander, and coconut aminos sauce - fermented sap from a coconut palm, an alternate to soy sauce I found in the kitchen spice cabinet. Tofu texture is bland, with a flavour so subtle it's hard to identify. My attempt to enhance its taste wasn't successful. It needed a pinch of salt to improve it.

After lunch Clare expressed her determination to tackle the twin bed mattress issue. We spent half an hour rearranging the beds in the room I sleep in, so that the second bed could be conveniently set up whenever needed for guests without occupying space at other times. Then we walked to the 'Bed World' superstore in Leckwith Road near Ninian Park train station to try out the options. The challenge was to find one comfortable enough to lie on, but with a firm edge to support my weight without stressing my back when I get out of bed. The beds on display are double beds. I need to test single bed mattresses rather than double bed ones to be sure they provide the kind of firm support my back needs. Almost all the mattresses on display were large or smaller doubles. Mission not accomplished.

We stopped at Chapter for a cup of tea and cake on the walk home. Ashley called which we were there, continuing the chaotic story of his attempts to get hernia surgery, compounded by administrative errors at UHW. Clare left me and went home while I was on the phone, so I returned by a longer route to complete my daily distance. I don't enjoy walking in the dark due to my impaired vision. 

The road is being dug up for work on the gas main at the crossing of Llandaff and Romilly Roads. The regular traffic lights are out of action, replaced by temporary ones operating in a different sequence. The result is congestion and confusion under the cover of darkness. The surrounding pavements are an obstacle course with safety barriers, generators, contractors vehicles and temporary traffic lights. It was difficult to negotiate on foot in the dark. Ill-tempered commuters were honking car horns at others struggling to navigate poorly lit road works at the crossing, and escaping into side streets at unsafe speeds. It was such a relief to reach home safely.

Another excellent episode of 'Blue Lights' on BBC iPlayer to end the day. portraying through the storyline how Protestant organised crime gangs operate, extorting 'protection money' from businesses in cash used to buy guns hidden in secret arms dumps during the Troubles and bartered for drugs sold on the streets. 

A questiion of trustworthiness

I had a better night's sleep and made sure to drink a pint of water when I got up to improve my chances of a better start to the day without a foggy head. Sunlight penetrated a thin layer of mist-like cloud at the start of the day, which thickened by the afternoon. In a morning spent reading, I came across an interesting article legally challenging the requirement to use AI by an academic of Humanist convictions. He was granted an exemption from using Large Language Model apps on 'religious' grounds. As a believer in the "human part of life" he argues that using AI tools violates his conviction that doing so meant outsourcing his thinking to tools like ChatGPT and Microsoft Copilot. 

Critical studies of AI are revealing inaccuracies in advice and opinions offered, and an ability to deceive as well as be deceived when fed false information, or distinguish falsehood from truth when it comes to information without precedent absorbed by its algorithms. The more data AI learns from, it is argued, the smarter its reasoning, the more accurate and credible will be its output. But is this appeal to increased and expanded knowledge trustworthy in itself? 

AI algorithms originate with human programmers, subject to social, cultural and ethical bias, which only comes to light under deep scrutiny of the output by human observers and thinkers. Processing large amounts of specific scientific data derived from medical imaging, astronomical, geographical or anthropological data can be beneficial, provided it is objective, consistent and simple in nature at the outset. That's not the case when it comes to beliefs, opinions, values, whose content needs to be interpreted before objective, simple and consistent data can be derived from it for processing. The subjective element comes with an element of risk, and the question of reliability of what we put our trust in. 

While I was pondering, Clare went out to buy groceries. I cooked veg to go with cold sausages and chutney for lunch. Then a visit to the medical appliance shop on Cowbridge Road to buy a urinal bottle. I pee so much and so often at night that I'm taking a risk using a kiddies' beach bucket when I'm half asleep. It's made of plastic, so much lighter than the ceramic one my bedridden grandpa Harris used when I was a teenager. I remember with distaste having to empty it for him. Glad I don't have to ask anyone to do that for me. 

Then I went to Llandaff Fields to photograph progress in removing the fallen tree. A national cross country running event is being hosted here the weekend after next, so this is a priority job for the Council's tree management team. A couple of years ago I remember a tree beside the course being felled and removed days before the event took place. With hundreds of runners going past, it may have been diseased and potentially unstable to justify this precaution. I returned home for a cup of tea and my blood pressure pill of the day. Then I went out again to complete my daily step count. The high cloud thinned out and turned pink as the sun met the horizon, so beautiful. 

We had an hour's chat with Rachel after supper, still striving to make a home in her cramped new apartment. On her to-do list is constructing a garden shed out of wooden pallets, of which there are plenty, to use for equipment storage. Resourceful as ever!

Then, another episode of 'Blue Lights' before finishing the day.

St Simon's Baptist Mills last Parish Priest remembered

Overcast and damp today, two hours' sleep lost again to emptying my bladder  in the night. I didn't drink as much as I thought I needed to when I got up and suffered with a foggy head from mild dehydration. It creeps up on me before I realise. I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's, remembering Saints Simon and Jude today. It's a day when I remember the Parish Church of St Simon's Baptist Mills, Easton in Bristol. 

As Rector of the St Paul's Area Team Ministry St Simon's was one of the five inner city parish areas which was merged into one before my time. Saint Agnes Church my home base, was the first to merge with Saint Agnes across the other side of what later became the M32 Parkway roundabout in 1956. The building was sold to the Greek Orthodox community in 1960. The church's ornate Anglo-Catholic high altar reredos was installed  in the south west corner of the nave of St Agnes renamed St Simon's chapel and used regularly for Masses. A few remaining elderly members of St Simon's congregation worshipped there regularly on weekdays until they died. 

My first experience of Orthodox Liturgy when I was an undergraduate was accompanying a fellow student who was Greek Orthodox to his church during the 1964 Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Ten years later we were living and working from in the former St Agnes and St Simon's Parish vicarage five minutes walk away. 

In his years after retirement The Reverend Father Ephah Garmons Ryle Hughes the last Vicar of St Simon's was admitted to a care home. Beryl, a faithful member of his flock told me he had not been receiving Holy Communion and asked if I would take the Sacrament to him, which I did willingly as we'd never met. I don't think he was getting pastoral visits from local clergy. I remember him sitting in a chair waiting with a Book of Common Prayer in his hands, opened at the office of Morning Prayer. It was not long before he died.  I was most fortunate to have served in a place with a history of grass roots Anglo-Catholic mission and ministry, surrounded and supported by such committed lay people.

Fr Hughes was Monmouthshire born, as was another East Bristol Anglo-Catholic priest of that generation Fr Tommy Price. I wonder how this came about? If they trained in Oxford, as some Church in Wales clergy were, and been influenced there by Catholic spirituality, there may have been more opportunities in English dioceses than nearer home to serve in a high church parish.

Ashley called me as I was drinking coffee and chatting after Mass to say his hernia surgery appointment had been cancelled, with some excuses made relating to the pre-op assessment. From what he told me, his medical interview report was full of errors. Justifiably, he has made a formal complaint to the hospital management.

I spent a couple of hours this afternoon and evening updating two Windows 11 laptops. It's many months since I last did this. I've had little occasion to use them since I stopped producing a weekly video for the morning prayer on WhatsApp. My Chromebook suffices for consuming video content and emailing. Updating it takes place automatically any time there's a need. All I have to do is reboot it when told. At the moment I have no inspiration or call to create content. I'll keep the laptops updated in case of need.

Before sunset I walked up Chestnut Avenue in Llandaff Fields to see if the path had been cleared of tree branches, and took some photos. A neat pile of logs stood on one side of the path from the branch that had fallen across it, leaves and twigs had been removed, probably turned into wood chips and mulch. On the other side of the path, clearing the much larger group of branches which had fallen on the grass was still a work in progress. All will look different when all that remains is the shattered stump of a forty foot chestnut tree.

Israel has seen nine political parties contending the election, which has led to a stalemate with the main contenders Yashar led by Eisenkot and Likud led by Netanyahu needing to form coalitions in order to take power. Only then will the verdict on Netanyahu's regime be apparent from the support his efforts receive. Israeli Arabs are regarded as 'kingmakers' in this process, perhaps willing to back Yashar, but not entirely united. They are diverse in political opinion and not united except on the issue of justice for Palestinians 

After supper, I watched two episodes of 'Blue Lights' exposing the moral dilemmas of everyday policing to which trainees are exposed, and the struggle to remain humane and compassionate revealed in mentors and trainees alike. Thought provoking and insightful

Signal outage corrupts Android

I woke up in bright sunshine after a night with two hours' sleep loss. There was a short cloudburst while I was in the bathroom. More rain followed with dark clouds coming and going. The EE mobile phone signal came and went randomly causing both our phones to malfunction and reboot. Clare used the landline to call a taxi which took her to Penarth for her study group meeting after breakfast. I wonder how taxi firms were managing given drivers' reliance on mobile phones to direct them to new clients.

I went to Llandaff Fields to take daylight photos of the big tree branches that blew down yesterday. There was no sign of the city's tree management team at work. I imagine priority is given to clearing rural roads. It seems there was heavy congestion in and around Pontcanna in this morning's rush hour due to additional traffic light controls at road works.

By the time Clare returned home, I had lunch cooked and ready to eat. My lower back pain is almost gone. I didn't need an ibuprofen to get started today, but there's still lingering stiffness in my neck and shoulders. I lay flat on my back for half an hour with a book under my head, relaxing and gently stretching listening to a program about the legendary escapologist and self-publicist Harry Houdini.

My phone continued to misbehave throughout the day. The network outage report web page showed that EE had gone through a period of outage. EE's web page provided no meaningful data at all to indicate that I should have a 4G signal or otherwise. It was most confusing. The phone would start up, throw an error message and automatically reboot. I went for another walk in Llandaff Fields as I knew where I would be able to get a strong signal, but there was no change in the phone's behaviour. On several occasions I got a message telling me that an Android startup file was corrupt, and that a factory reset was required. 

I told the children the phone wasn't working properly and to use the landline using WhatsApp in the brief period after startup before it crashed again. Then I set the hour long 'factory reset' process in motion. It was nerve wracking as there were identity checks and sign-ins at every step during reinstatement of the operating system and app downloads. The appearance of the restored user interface is slightly different. An assortment of apps appeared which I'll never use needed deletion. It indicates a full Android update, which was probably scheduled for download when I switched on this morning, but failed when the EE outage occurred, corrupting the operating system leaving it an endless reboot cycle. It's a relief to have sorted out my phone. Clare's phone will have to wait until tomorrow. I'm exhausted now and need to sleep.

Unexpected rebate

Rain returned in the night and continued all morning. I lost two and a half hours' sleep getting up to pee six times, an unusually large volume, but why? What was different? At supper last night I ate some small sweet yellow cherry tomatoes grown in our garden. They were delicious. I googled 'tomatoes and diuretic' and discovered the reason. This summer, tomatoes have been available in abundance, especially from the church garden. I've eaten plenty of them, not suspecting their impact on my kidneys and bladder. Now I know that I need to avoid eating them later in the day. In recent consultations with medics when frequent urination has been my concern, tests and scans have been performed with no consequence. Never once has diet been mentioned as a factor.

Rain stopped after lunch, so we took the bus into town. I had a tax rebate cheque from HMRC to deposit in the bank, and Clare wanted to top up Rachel's Post Office Money Card. Then we went to John Lewis' to have a cup of tea and look at possible replacement single bed mattresses. The edges on ones I tested weren't firm enough to take my weight supportively. A trip to a specialist bed shop is necessary. As we're almost out of home made marmalade, Clare decided to make a batch with oranges and lemons to tide us over until the Seville Bitter Oranges arrive after Christmas. We were too late to catch the city market before it closed, but were able to buy lemons at Sainsbury's in St Mary Street. They didn't have any oranges so we bought some at the Co-op in Pontcanna Street on our way home. The 63 bus took us back up Cathedral Road in complete darkness. Its itinerary display and audio announcement system was out of action. It meant we couldn't be sure exactly where we were en route and we got off the bus a few stops before the shop we intended to visit. Walking alongside noisy polluting traffic on a poorly lit street strewn with twigs and small branches was tiring, to say the least.

After supper, I went out and walked up and down Pontcanna Fields to complete by daily distance in the dark. Across the path was a huge branch, representing the other half of the upper branches of one of the trees blown down yesterday. It lay in the opposite direction to the other fallen branches, an indication that the wind had reversed direction as the storm passed over. The air temperature had risen by about seven degrees since early morning. Such unusual variability in weather conditions, producing two storms close together disrupting all forms of routine traffic, giving us a foretaste of climate instability to come, now that global warming increase is reaching 1.5C. 

Before bed another episode of 'Blue Lights' portraying life under the reign of fear propagated by criminal gangs inspired by paramilitary groups in Northern Ireland. 

Peelers

I woke up refreshed to bright sunshine having enjoyed a good night's sleep. The rain clouds have passed but there's still a strong cold north easterly wind today. Clare opted to attend the Welsh language Eucharist this afternoon so I went to St Catherine's on my own. A toddler was baptised during the service and there were several others in attendance too. Interestingly they weren't as noisy as they tend to be if they come in from Sunday Club, caught up in the atmosphere of the occasion I think. I was charmed by the sight of a four year old walking around holding the hand of a toddler in a motherly way, not fussed over by parents, apparently at ease in church. 

I relaxed without dropping off to sleep after lunch and went out for an hour's walk before the sun reached the horizon. Two horse chestnut trees on the avenue through Llandaff Fields suffered from storm damage yesterday, one lost most of its canopy branches above the trunk, the other was felled nearer the ground but neither was uprooted. Neither had leaves and looked in poor condition, diseased and weak after spells of drought. The Council's tree management team's work will be less hazardous as a result.

After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Blue Lights' on BBC iPlayer, about trainee police officers in Northern Ireland, a keenly observed 'cops and crooks' drama, portraying the unique challenges and risks faced by the Police Service of Northern Ireland in urban Belfast post-Good Friday agreement, from organised crime in volatile communities with a tribal distrust of the authority of 'Peelers', the antique nickname for law enforcement officers still in use. It's beautifully written and acted, compelling watching. I'll have to ration myself to one or two episodes a night to avoid staying up far too late.

 

Welsh monsoon weekend

Serves me right for not going to bed early enough, I woke up tired after sleeping uncomfortably. It rained in the night and all morning. The second named storm of the past two days has swept through Britain bringing high winds and heavy downpours in many places. The El Niño phenomenon in the Pacific has far reaching influence on weather elsewhere in the world. We may even see snow this autumn as temperatures drop. A flood alert has been issued for South Wales this morning. Drains are blocked with fallen leaves, causing huge puddles in some streets.

Extreme weather has been the subject for a dramatic story in 'The Archers' this week with a violent storm felling a tree and injuring Vince Casey, and a toppling chimney destroying the Orangery at Lower Loxley Hall on Pip and Stella's wedding day. 

Clare, up early, cooked breakfast pancakes while I was still asleep and cooked a veggie pasta for lunch while I was writing. I had a short snooze after the meal and read for a while before plucking up courage to go for a walk to clear my head. It was still raining with random gusts of wind from the west, so violent and random that I only managed to walk for a quarter of an hour before a spoke of my brolly broke and jammed the mechanism open, making it unusable and too much of a risk to leave outdoors in the  wind. Ah well, it was an old brolly in poor condition after decades of wear. Time for a new one.

Before and after supper I watched the rest of 'State of Play' which held my attention right to the end, even if the revealing of the murderer was rather an anti-climax. It won three BAFTA and proved good enough to warrant an American version appearing six years after the original was screened in 2003. The story spotlighted the background to the oil industry influence on lobbying political decision making and the scrutiny of exploitation plans in the years before global warming from fossil fuels was taken seriously. At first sight I was unsure when this movie was made. Its setting was a period piece newsroom with few computers and the odd fax machine. A lot of printed material was piled high on desks. Email was referred to very occasionally. There were no smartphones and only cassette tape recorders were in use. I thought it might be a newer movie, set twenty years ago until I looked it up on IMDB.

I reset all the household clocks before bed, as Summer Time ends tonight. 

Scanned at Llandough

I slept fairly well. The back pain is slowly reducing, though it does take longer to get up carefully for a pee in the night. So far so good, I haven't made it worse. I allowed two hours to get to Llandough hospital after breakfast by public transport for a bowel and bladder scan at midday. Rather than take a taxi to reach there on time, I wanted to find out how much waiting and travelling time was needed for the bus trip.

First a 61 to the bus station in town. Then a thirty five minute journey on a 95 bus bound for Barry island calling at Llandough hospital. The hospital isn't mentioned on timetable display panels even though buses drive into and out of the hospital grounds. I got off at Outpatients stop only to find I needed to get off at the main entrance instead. It was raining and strong gusts of wind blew as I walked the 300 yards there. 

The radiology unit is near the Outpatients entrance but this was not indicated. I had to double back down the corridor said to be one of the longest hospital corridors in Europe, running down the length of the building to reach my destination. There are so many signs overhead and on walls it's not easy to identify the place you're looking for. It's just as well I arrived an hour early for my appointment, better than being late because I couldn't find my way there or missed a timely bus. I only had a twenty minute wait to be scanned. I needed to be scanned twice as my bladder wasn't full enough to give a satisfactory image. I had to drink a litre of water and wait half an hour to complete the process.

With a half hour wait for a return bus, rather than wait in a rickety shelter blasted by gusts of cold wind, I went into the cafeteria and had fish and chips for lunch at a reasonable price. A  95 bus took me to the bus station where 61 was about to depart. I was home again by two, pleased to learn the scan revealed nothing of concern.

It's useful to know the journey to Llandough hospital from home can be done in about an hour. Twice as long as a taxi would take, but free with a pensioner's bus pass. Back pain is diminishing now and didn't prevent me sleeping in my arm chair for an hour. I went out at sunset and walked up and down Llandaff Fields for an hour as it got dark. Clare cooked fish and couscous for lunch and kept a portion back for me. Neither of us expected the hospital trip would take so long, so I had my lunch for supper, happy to eat fish twice in a day.

While I was out Clare arranged for someone in the neighbourhood WhatsApp group to collect the mattress whose softness has given me back pain. It would support a child better than an adult. The bedroom feels so spacious with just one single bed in it. We still have a spare single tucked under the main bed. but it needs a suitable mattress.

I spent the evening watching a couple of episodes of 'State of Play', portraying journalists in pursuit of oil lobbyists spying on a parliamentary energy select committee chairman through a researcher who is murdered, but by whom? They are unscrupulous in their use of bribery and compromising information to acquire information relevant to the story they want to tell. Corrupt politicians and spin doctors influence police detectives to deflect investigation away from embarrassing truths that journalists want to uncover, and are then accused of perverting the course of justice. It's intriguingly complex, enough to keep me up later than is good for me when I'm nursing a bad back.

Global cyber vulnerability alert

Bedroom rearrangement required a change in habit on my part. When I got up for a pee, half asleep I reached for support to balance myself safely on a fitting that wasn't there. After the stroke, a grab handle was installed beside the bed. I don't need it to haul myself out of bed, but to steady myself when standing. I supported my weight and eased the back pain by leaning on a chest of drawers while standing, without mishap. Somehow I slept quite well despite the duvet slipping off the bed which was not against the wall, plus the usual interruptions. A single ibuprofen tablet calmed my lower back muscles by the time I'd eaten breakfast. Then I rearranged the mattresses to make sure my bed was next to the grab handle. I can rely on established habit to get me through an inevitably wakeful night hereafter.

Clare went shopping. I cooked sea bass and veg for lunch. In the news, reports of a security vulnerability in the PHP scripting language used widely by internet servers to process interactive web pages. Analysis of PHP in use through AI scrutiny flagged up a weakness hackers could use to access the server side of web pages. Security patches for vulnerable software are issued routinely and usually discreetly. News of concern and the fix for it diffused rapidly among web masters globally, and among hackers. Financial and public service websites around the world were taken off-line immediately as a necessary precaution against malign actors, as hackers tried to access and investigate sites with their own aims in mind, whether out of curiosity or ill-will. 

A news sensation of this kind can play a part in educating the ordinary user about threats to digital infrastructure that would be a key implement in cyber warfare. Attacks can affect energy and food supply chains as well as financial transactions. AI shows dangerous potential as a hacking tool in launching cyber offensives. What on earth is the world doing, developing resources able undermine the foundations on which modern life rests, and thinking that such an ultra powerful servant can forever be kept in check by innovators whose intentions and sense of values may contradict and conflict with each other? Reliance on things digital sacrifices resilience on the altars of gods of efficiency and convenience. Scripture reminds us idols end up consuming their worshippers. Do we pay attention?

At a time when high street banks and cash machines are disappearing from our streets at an inconvenient pace, it's ironic that a government minister exhorting preparedness for disaster should be advising citizens to stock up on non perishable food, bottles of water, and cash in case supply chains fail to deliver, or the entire 'tap and pay' transaction system is disabled by cyber criminals, or by total failure of the power grid, as happened in Spain earlier this year. 

I got myself out of the house and walked for a couple of hours around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields before sunset with little bother from back pain, and I took a few photos of autumnal colours. It's sitting around for too long that gives me trouble. I spent the evening watching a couple of episodes of a conspiracy thriller on ITVX called 'State of Play'. Investigative journalists and the Metropolitan Police investigating the same crime in competition and contention with each other, neither side knowing exactly what they're up against from the outset. Interesting.

Aberfan remembered

I slept well and woke up to a dull damp day. My back is still painful but less so. I took an ibuprofen to minimise the discomfort when walking to church. Today is the 60th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster in which an unstable coal tip collapsed into a landslide overwhelming a village school and a row of houses, killing 116 children and 28 adults. The Eucharist at St Catherine's today prayed for the victims while remembering the tragedy, quoting a poem written at the time and Archbishop Cherry's reflective statement. 

That week in 1966, I'd just started work at the Shell-BP group offices in Vine Street Bristol after graduation, having failed to get a grant for a post graduate social work course in the gap year before starting ordination training. After the news broke, a group of fund raisers were on the street with buckets collecting cash from office workers for the Aberfan appeal. Archbishop Glyn Simon who later ordained me, was on telly giving an epilogue that night. I don't recall what he said, but I do remember Dad, an occasional church going skeptic, being impressed by what he said. 

An on-line news article today reports the continued challenge of dealing with old coal tips despite decades of landscaping work restoring industrial sites since the closure of South Wales mines over a quarter of a century ago. The risk of landslides from coal tips in the Valleys has increased because of climate change. Torrential rain storms accumulate water in bedrock where mining waste, coal shale and sandstone rubble was dumped. What happened at Aberfan could happen at other sites. When the tragedy happened, potential danger from dumping coal waste from Merthyr Vale colliery and extreme weather were not taken seriously, nobody was held accountable, even if lessons were learned after the tragedy. Monitoring and remediating coal tips at risk of collapse is now obliged by public safety legislation. 

Merthyr Vale pit was known as Navigation Colliery. It yielded high quality coal used in steamships. High productivity was essential during and after the war, but waste was piled up without much attention to the risk involved or the consequences. Assessing environmental impact is important in developing industrial domestic, commercial and infrastructure projects nowadays. It can be a bone of contention and political power games when enthusiasm for the need of a project is called into question. It can lead to long delays and rising costs, as we're seeing with HS2 and a proposed third Heathrow runway. In every case, due diligence is necessary to make sure such a terrible tragedy never happens again.

I cooked fish and veg for lunch when I got back from church as Clare hadn't yet returned from a talk about Aberfan at Conway Road Methodist Church 'Over Fifties' club. Unfortunately I burned the rice I was cooking due to a lapse in concentration, so we ended up having couscous instead. I had an acupuncture treatment with Peter at two thirty. When I got home I slept for an hour, mostly in a deep sleep which disposed of some of the stress generated by managing back pain. Meanwhile Clare rearranged the furniture in the study where I sleep, to accommodate two single beds moving her desk into the front bedroom. This enables me to sleep on a firmer mattress and keeps the softer one that distresses my back in reserve for when we have guests who are lighter in weight than me.

After supper I went to the Co-op to buy bananas. It was raining and pitch dark, conditions in which I'm most aware of visual impairment. When the clocks go back I will need to get up earlier and make sure I've done my daily distance earlier to make the most of daylight hours. It's bad enough on low light days under overcast skies.

Yesterday's appointment letter today

I went to bed too late and lost a couple of hours' sleep. Serves me right if I have a miserable day. When the clocks go back next weekend I'll have a natural opportunity to reset the timing of when I go to bed and get up. Overcast and cold today.

In the morning mail, a letter  dated 14th October arrived for the appointment I had yesterday. Included with the letter from the Clinical Gerontology Incontinence service was a chart to record 24/7 bladder emptying times and measured amounts with an extra column for accidental discharge. As if sleep loss from peeing wasn't enough to cope with, now the clinicians expect you to do homework as well. Heaven help anyone with serious cognitive impairment or physical disability. 

I called the contact number, and got through to the relevant medical secretary at St David's Hospital to report what had happened. This is not the first time an appointment letter arrived from UHW after the event. Fortunately I'd been informed digitally as well. It didn't prevent me arriving late having misjudged the walk time, but I had been dealt with nevertheless without the need to report my urinary output. I was told that my medical notes folder was empty yesterday due to a forgotten photocopy. Just a slight whiff of chaos running through routine organisation with additional poor timing on my part.

Clare's study group arrived at ten. I sat in the lounge and watched the final episode of 'Cleddau'. Running through both series is the story of the decline and demise of the father of the leading investigator, a retired criminal lawyer, whose memory loss pervades his active life impairs his quick mind and leading to him to reach false conclusions about what is happening in his world. It leads to comic as well as tragic incidents in the background of the story. It ends with a moving death bed scene. A worthy side track that sheds light on the domestic pressures besetting the protagonist, on top of her own personal vulnerabilities. The crimmie packs a lot of insight about contemporary issues in its Pembroke Dock setting.

I cooked a quick lunch after the study group departed, with tinned mackerel in tomato sauce and veg that included the first Brussels sprouts of the season. The distinctive aroma from the steamer announces when they are perfectly cooked. Clare went to a meditation session after lunch, and I went to the Post Office in drizzling rain to put some dollars on Rachel's Post Office Money Card account. I was shocked to be informed that the card number was invalid. Both the counter clerk and I tried the code on the keypad and got the same response from the card reading system. It's possible that the card recently in use has expired, in which case a new one could be in transit. I sent a message to Clare and one to Rachel asking her to confirm the details and card expiry date. It turned out there was a transcription error in the card number I was given, but that wasn't the only issue. Apparently there's been a Google Cloud outage today affecting banking apps. More chaos.

A phone call came through on my mobile when I was out of reach, followed by a landline call from the Radiology unit at Llandough to book me for an ultrasound bladder and bowel scan this Friday following up on yesterday's consultation at St David's hospital. I was surprised to receive this so promptly, given how long it took for yesterday's appointment from the initial referral.

I walked for an hour at sunset and returned home in time for supper and 'The Archers'. With Hallowe'en approaching BBC iPlayer is screening 'The Reluctant Vampire' and 'The Vampire's Revenge' an adaptation of the 1982 children's novels by master comedian Eric Morecambe with a story line full of brilliant gags and laugh out loud dialogue and a cast of comedy stars. The silliness of the tale is rather tiresome but the wit and humour of the dialogue is a redeeming feature. Earlier bed time tonight as tiredness has dogged me all day.

Drama as education

I felt the benefit of a firmer mattress for a second night, sleeping fairly well and feeling less stiff with little pain in my back and hips. I was able to walk briskly to St David's hospital for my appointment, but mis-timed it and arrived ten minutes late. I mistakenly took a queuing ticket for blood test patients and waited for a while before realising this. There was no receptionist as such for doctor appointments, but eventually a nurse called my name. By this time I'd received a message from Clare to say the hospital had phoned to check why I hadn't turned up. She said I'd left home, and that was when a search was started for me in the waiting room where I was sitting waiting... If there's nobody overseeing arrivals and checking what they have come for, this is what happens.

I had my blood pressure taken and I was weighed in my clothes and shoes. A nurse interviewed me, as the case file with my name on it arrived empty. I gave a pee sample and had an ultrasound scan of my empty bladder, and then a conversation with the duty Registrar, instead of Dr Morse, who had presumably moved on to other patients due to my lateness. I didn't get the opportunity to say to her that I'd had a reprieve from the medication she described as a life sentence six months ago. The Registrar advised me of a couple of possible drugs I might request if my prostate was playing up, and referred me for a prostate scan, in the light of the frequency of emptying my bladder at night. I had a phone call from him when I got home to warn that traces of blood were found in my urine. Given the issue I had with a big kidney stone nineteen years ago, there could be vulnerable scar tissue in my kidneys or bladder affected by the impact of the meds I've taken over the years in my urine. And I'm taking the prescribed daily aspirin that thins the blood. Anyway, I hope there's nothing more ominous about to ambush me.

When I got home Clare was cooking lunch. Fish for herself and roasting chicken pieces for me, which was a surprise. I siesta'd for nearly an hour after we'd eaten, then walked in Llandaff Fields for three quarters of an hour. I spotted a Jay digging with its beak in a rotting log beside the path linking Llandaff Fields and Pontcanna Fields and took a few photos. I read somewhere that jays have a reputation as tree planters. It's not what a zoologist would say. They call it acorn caching. Jays fill their crop with them and select a place to bury them for retrieval in winter. Forgotten nuts may germinate and drive the natural expansion of oak woodland.

After supper I continued watching the mass murder mystery 'Cleddau' on iPlayer. Stalking and identity theft were portrayed in tonight's episode storylines. This is public information and education by means of drama. Occasionally dialogue proceeded too rapidly for me to read and make sense of the subtitles. I had to rewind, and ended up going to bed rather later than intended again.

Mayhem in France

Sleeping last night in a double bed with a more supportive mattress was certainly more comfortable, so my back was less painfully stressed when I got up this morning. I still lost a couple of hours' sleep getting up to empty my bladder. I needed to move carefully in and out of bed to avoid pain and strain, but muscle and joint inflammation is reducing now. I took an ibuprofen tablet as a precaution, and was able to move with less discomfort and walk to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist at a fair pace. The church hall is out of action due to location filming so there were no refreshments after the service and we came straight home. It was too cold to stand around and chat in the open air, despite the clear sky and autumn sunshine. After lunch I slept in my armchair for an hour, then walked for nearly an hour in Llandaff Fields.

In the run-up to presidential elections in France, widespread protests against the government by students about the cost of living and poor conditions in schools and colleges, have been badly handled by the police and erupted into mob riots with looting and arson in Paris and other cities. The voices of extreme left and right wing activists polarise the nation and drown consensus building middle ground political leadership at a time. It's a measure of frustration and anger felt by many at the inability of the government to meet their needs at a time of insecurity and uncertainty about the future affecting everyone. It remains to be discovered who is really behind this stirring up of social unrest. 

Israel is also about to elect a new government, with Netanyahu seeking approval for waging a genocidal war against Hamas in Palestinian Gaza and partnership with America in waging war against Iran. Trump openly endorses Netanyahu's leadership. If the US mid-term elections express disapproval for Trump, how will this influence the opinion of Israeli electors?

After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Cleddau' on iPlayer. Within the murder investigation story are no fewer than three different instances of coercive controlling relationships. It reflects a social concern that came to light through domestic tragedies leading to the UK Serious Crimes Act in 2015 which made coercive control a criminal act. This was highlighted in the story of Helen Archer and Rob Titchener in the longest running radio soap opera the year before.

A familiar story

Another night with a couple of hours' sleep loss due to back pain taking half an hour to get mobile, able to sit down for our Saturday pancake breakfast without discomfort, thanks to an ibuprofen tablet. I work at sitting down and standing up in a careful, balanced way that avoids increased pain in the places where I feel I have a trapped nerve and strained muscles. That's as much as I can do. It's physically tiring, on top of poor sleep. Clare cooked lunch. I slept for two hours in my arm chair after we'd eaten. As I relaxed the back pain diminished. Eventually I was able to walk for nearly an hour under a clear sky before the sun reached the horizon, but it was cold, 10C. After supper I watched the rest of the first series of 'Cleddau' and started the second. The story seemed familiar. I guessed some but not all the plot twists. 

A search of previous blog posts took me back eighteen months to a BBC Wales crimmie called 'The one that got away', the English language version with some subtitled Welsh dialogue. 'Cleddau' is an all Welsh version screened on S4C with breaks where adverts would be inserted if shown on a commercial channel. I needed the sub-titles, but was interested to discover how much Welsh vocabulary I understood and was familiar with. This happens if I watch something in French, German, Italian, or Spanish - all languages I'm familiar with and can make sense of in written or spoken form, but don't speak confidently. It's part of the entertainment value as far as I'm concerned.

Catch up

Another uncomfortable night, losing sleep coping with a painful back. At least the sun is shining today. Rufus and I agreed to meet at Cafe Castan, but he called before I could un-stiffen myself and leave the house, to say he was finding it impossible to park nearby. There's always room in Meadow Street during the day under the new parking regulations, so I invited him to come to the house and use our guest parking app and drink coffee chez nous instead. It was good to see him in good form, applying his organisational experience to working with Missions to Seafarers volunteers. After we parted company I cooked savoury veg and chick peas with couscous for lunch. I had to move carefully because the back pain made me feel unstable on my feet, and took time attempting to free trapped back muscles afterwards. I couldn't sleep but rested and read until it was time to walk in Llandaff Fields for an hour before sunset. There's a cold wind today, I wouldn't be surprised to see all the trees turn brown and gold over the weekend.

After supper I watched a Welsh language crimmie with subtitles on BBC iPlayer called 'Cleddau' it was on S4C originally.

Memories of Wartime

An overcast day with periods of fine drizzling rain. Although I slept well I woke up again with back pain, as bad as yesterday. I think the mattress on my bed isn't supporting my weight properly when I get out to empty my bladder.  The strain of repeating an awkward movement takes its toll on my right buttock and hip joint. I needed a rub with ibuprofen gel to suppress the pain and get mobile. Clare went to town after breakfast in search of a duvet cover for Rachel while I cooked a seafood paella, managing my complaining back as best as I could on my feet, moving about the kitchen. In the end I took an ibuprofen pill as the gel was starting to wear off. I found it hard concentrating on the detail of cooking while moving carefully to avoid making a move that would make things worse. The paella turned out quite well. For dessert we had experimental chocolate ice cream Clare made from the flesh of a Hallowe'en pumpkin with honey, cocoa powder and yogurt.

I sat in my arm chair writing for most of the afternoon, feeling the need to rest my back. I didn't go out and walk until tea time. I exchanged messages with Sara whose parents are celebrating their diamond wedding anniversary this month. She spoke about their reticence to remember growing up in post-war Sweden, having Norwegian relatives. Sweden supplied iron ore to Germany and let Nazi troops transit the country to invade Norway, the price paid for remaining neutral and retaining independence. As well as being a time of hardship it was difficult in other ways, though Sweden's neutrality enabled it to play an important part in saving Scandinavian Jews from extermination and stranded allied servicemen from capture. Her questions about my family's wartime history prompted me to remember stories my mother told me about her experience of life in the mining valleys. It occurred to me that my grandchildren know nothing of this. Perhaps I should share these recollections with them too. 

Trump has reacted to criticism about allowing live streaming the firing squad execution of mass murderer Nidal Hassan by reversing his decision. Relations between Trump and Zelensky have deteriorated further with Trump accusing him of destroying Ukraine, a nonsensical idea when Russian ballistic missiles and drones rain down on Kyiv. Zelensky speaks of being betrayed by Trump. Ukraine has resumed striking Russian oil refineries, and Yandex a key Russian search data processing centre, disrupting internet traffic. 

Ukraine's innovative use of drone technology and AI in countering Russian aggression reveals an ability to inflict strategic damage to Russia's economy and its war machine. Between four hundred and four hundred and fifty Russian soldiers have died since Ukraine was invaded four and a half years ago with up to one and a half million soldiers wounded or missing. As well as stopping Ukraine from being overwhelmed by Russia's invasion, success in developing military technology makes Ukraine an attractive prospect for future investment in defence industries. Trump's attempts to broker a cease fire and start peace talks have been as unfruitful in North Eastern Europe as they have been in the Middle East.

This afternoon, I took advantage of feeling less painfully stiff to go for a walk in Llandaff Fields as the sun was setting. I needed another rub with ibuprofen gel after supper. Then I watched the last two episodes of 'Black Sands', the content of which could have been compressed into a single episode, as the slow pace of portraying the end of the story, with a lengthy twilight search on a black volcanic sandy beach with dunes  added little apart from impatience to get it over with and get to bed.

Under the shadow

A good night's sleep, but I woke up with muscle pain in the middle of my back above the pelvis, stiff neck and shoulders. I must have slept for some time in an awkward position. I had to move slowly, carefully and in a balanced way to avoid putting my vertebrae and pelvis out of alignment. I had a phone call while I was in the shower about an appointment at St David's hospital, following up on a GP referral. Clare brought the phone to me, but the line dropped as the phone was too far from the base station. I called the hospital and was given a date for triage at an incontinence clinic. I wasn't sure why and enquired of the appointments secretary what this was all about. 

It's been six weeks since the boil on my buttock burst and I asked to be referred for wound dressing to the district nurse team, aware of the daily demand for care this would place on Clare. No pasa nada. Thanks to Clare the wound has healed nicely. Given that the initial infection broke out in scar tissue as a result of a violent diarrhea side effect from clot busting medication, I thought it might be worth asking for a scan of the affected muscle tissue to check how stable it now is. 

Step one is a consultation with Dr Morse, whom I saw back in March as part of the general health check I received six months after the stroke. At that time the medication was having a bad effect on me. I asked how long I'd have to continue taking it, and was told it's 'a life sentence'. Well, I've been given a reprieve. My digestive tract works as God intends it to. No incontinence to deal with, but I shall press for a scan to find out if there's any hidden risk remaining. 

Sorting out the appointment lost me the time needed to get to St Catherine's for the Eucharist. I went to the church hall half an hour later to say hello to people and buy a bag of church garden tomatoes. I called at the pharmacy for a prescription renewal while I was in the vicinity and was told it would be ready in a week's time. Just as well I have two week's medication left.

When I got back home I lay on my back with a book under my head and worked on relaxing muscles and warming them up gently while Clare cooked pasta for lunch. I needed to sleep for half an hour afterwards  then I went into town to get the the book I ordered from Waterstones' for Clare birthday - a new translation of the Epic of Gilgamesh by Poet Laureate Andrew Motion. After this I felt ready for a brisk walk up and down Llandaff Fields as the muscle pain was easing. After supper, I spent the evening writing.

Russia has stepped up its bombardment of Ukrainian energy infrastructure and residential areas of Kyiv. Trump's 'energy ceasefire' is a figment of his imagination. He is coercing Ukraine into complying with his wishes, influencing Elon Musk, to throttle Musk's Starlink satellite network, making it much harder to detect incoming missile strikes and defend against them. Political commentators ask if Trump has become a Russian ally. He seems willing to appease rather than confront Putin. For years Trump has cultivated business relationships in Russia. Who knows what compromising information Russia has on him? 

The head of MI5 warns against increasing threats from Russian cyber attacks and the dangers of AI being used to develop new threats by 'hostile actors', as individuals, organisations or nation states are referred to in security jargon. Sanctioned  Russian oil tankers and naval vessels sail through seas close to Britain and our air space is probed by Russian drones and military aircraft, risking an incident but just avoiding one. We hear of criminals hired to commit crimes on behalf of anti-semitic extremists, and on behalf of Iran or Russia. It's disturbing to think that war could break out in Western Europe accidentally and Britain would not be exempt from the consequences.

Tired legs

I thought I slept quite well and woke up fairly refreshed but my Fitbit told a different story. I asked myself if it's really that accurate in monitoring and interpreting bodily electrical impulses 24/7.  After breakfast, Clare went off by taxi to her study group meeting in Penarth. I spent the morning reflecting and writing. When Clare returned, sooner than anticipated, we prepared lunch together. Then she went to see a movie at the Chapter cinema while I did the grocery shopping in the Co-op and Tesco's after we'd eaten. Neither of us remembered that Jorja was due to clean the house this afternoon. Oops!

I found the exercise tough going this afternoon. I felt physically tired as if I was recovering from running a marathon, which to be fair, was what the Google Health app indicated, telling me I needed to rest and take it easy before exercising today. I don't understand why I should feel like this. I wasn't out of breath, but I did stop and sit on a park bench a few times to relax my leg muscles rather than pushing myself hard. 

I went home at tea time to deal with the rubbish and recycling, but Clare was back from the cinema and on the job and had put out the bins already. We had supper together, then she went to a Pilates class while I went out again and walked the rest of my daily distance as it got dark. The last half hour of my walk was less strenuous than earlier. I felt as if my leg muscles had taken all day to warm up and I was able to go at a more brisk pace. Sometimes my body feels like a stranger to me.

I spent the evening after supper watching the final episode of series one of the Icelandic crimmie 'Black Sands' and several more of series two, including an episode dating from 20 years earlier serving as a prequel to series one, explaining the back story to dysfunctional relationships and perpetrators portrayed in series one. It's an unusual device. The last episode can wait until tomorrow.

Escalation

A colder night, with the aurora borealis displaying overhead to the north and west of us, but the sky wasn't clear enough of thin cloud for the colours to be visible. It was overcast and raining when I got up, but it didn't last long. A good night's sleep nevertheless, although it didn't prevent me from feeling tired and stiff. I don't know why.

Clare went shopping, and I cooked lunch. She came home with a new steel frying pan and steel utensil to turn pan fried food, replacing one made of disturbingly deteriorating plastic.  After a brief siesta I walked around Thompson's Park and then Llandaff Fields. I caught sight of a Jay foraging in the open grass and took several photos. As I walked back down the avenue I was overtaken by a cyclist with a toddler in the back pannier. A second child on a bicycle about five years old was pedalling furiously to catch up and called out "Daddy!" He slowed a little and extended his right hand at a low enough level for the child to take his hand and hold on to it as they rode on together ahead of me, too fast to get out the camera I'd just put away and take what would have been a touching photo from behind. Clare had already eaten supper early when I arrived home, as she was about to go out for choir practice.

For the second time in the past few days, Houthi forces have attacked King Khaled international airport in Riyadh with missiles, killing 13 people and injuring over 300. The airport is now closed as a result. The Saudis struck Houthi forces holding the airport in Sanaa and Saudi air defences are being kept busy dealing with incoming missiles.

Crude oil is still being exported through the Straight of Hormuz by tankers under US naval escort despite occasional attacks from Iranian forces or its Houthi proxies. Houthi control of the Bab al Mandeb gateway to the Red Sea adds to the risk and vulnerability of supply chains. Iran is exporting oil in defiance of American sanctions. The volume of refined products, particularly diesel and liquid natural gas, is well below pre-war levels, leading to price rises with far reaching economic consequences. There has been no progress in diplomatic talks. 

Trump speaks with false optimism of the war ending 'real soon now'. He alleged yesterday that Ukraine and Russia have agreed to an 'energy cease-fire', but Russian attacks on Ukrainian power infrastructure since then express contempt for his utterances and show how foolish he is to believe he has influence to bring an end to either conflict. He minimises the effect of support that Iran is receiving from Russia and China in the background and is in no position to confront them openly, having invested so much in waging a war against Iran that has caused so much economic upheaval in the Gulf states and wider world.

With the sun setting around half past six, impaired eyesight is slower to adjust to reduction in contrast outdoors. I've got used to this over the past year, and take more care to notice my surroundings when I'm walking. I need stronger light to use a keyboard as well as when I read a book. After supper I watched another episode of gloomy slow moving Icelandic crimmie 'Black Sands'. Much of it is filmed in semi darkness for dramatic effect. It does nothing to enhance my viewing experience. It's frustrating.