3 reasons I am sad for the UK

I am 60 this year. My father died aged 74 and my target is to live as long as he did. In another 14 years I wonder what the country will be like.

[1] I am already despondent about the issue of Halal meat. How does killing animals which have not been stunned make England a better nation? What is the point of the RSPCA?

[2] House building is another cause of concern. As far as I can see new houses are being built on what used to be prime farm land. Some will say we import more of our food these days. What happens when the (fossil) fuel runs out? How will we power our ships to bring food here?

[3] Town centres. People used to live in towns. Now people want to live out of towns - hence point 2 above. Town centres are dead because shops are moving out to superstores (also built on good land). Are town centres just places where night clubs thrive?

I am a little young to think like the character in the Barnum song "Thank God I'm Old" but it is getting that way.

Peterborough Cathedral

I attended two Evensongs at Peterborough Cathedral over the weekend as my daughter was singing with the visiting choir Luceat (which is mostly Oxford based).

I had reservations about hearing the organ after the pitch change but not too many new stops have been added according to NPOR so the marvellous sounds which comes from the Hill are essentially what I knew as a boy. The main difference is that there is no action noise (although that would have been sorted out in 1981) but I really did notice that I could hear no action noise at all during the services nor did I notice any thuds when pistons were pressed and the sliders moved (I assume they are still slider chests).

Luceat sang extremely well and I found the whole experience rather emotional; but what former chorister doesn't get a tingle when they hear the Howells Coll. Reg. "Gloria"?

The Sunday voluntary was Vierne's "Carillon de Westminster" which Andrew Newberry used to play, although, oddly, I never heard him do so. As the organ got louder and louder I could not help but recall how I had heard the grand sound of the organ at Andrew's hands going at full pelt. Of course it is probably louder at full tilt than he could achieve because it now has another Great Mixture and a second Tuba! Still, in my teens - when there were precious few pistons before the 1981 rebuild - I frequently had to respond to the call for "Clarion" (Swell) and "Ophicleide" (Pedal) neither of which came out on Andrew's piston settings and had to be drawn manually. My eyes watered briefly as a wallowed in nostalgia.

Today's organists seem far more skilled than was the case 40 years ago, but I am probably wrong: they have different skills. They can play the fast stuff but I was brought up to manage a large organ carefully and not to drown the choir. The Luceat organist was having fun and who could blame him? Had he been Dr Stanley Vann's Assistant Organist he would not have let rip quite so much.

Peterborough (Andrew said) is one of the few places where one can accompany the choir with Full Swell, as long as the box is not open too far. These days organists do open it rather more but, of course, they are accompanying adults not boy trebles.

So it was great to go back to my old stamping ground and to hear that church music is in safe hands in certain quarters.

Andrew, I miss you. R. I. P.

Here he is giving it some welly back in the day.

What are the men doing now?

When I was young there were no female priests and I knew of only a handful of female organists. These days there are far more female priests, and female organists seem to be everywhere. This begs the question, "What are the men - who would normally have taken these roles/jobs - doing now?"

Presumably fewer men are presenting themselves for ordination. Or if is just that more women are doing so then the best candidates for priestly training are taken from a bigger pool of candidates and the women are beating the men to the (fewer) available jobs.

I have to say that most women priests I have met do a good job and some of the men I have encountered are really quite 'wet' and, frankly, make my stomach churn. I am not suggesting they "bat for the other side" although I have worked with a few priest who are known to be gay. A few priests I know have a rather "Sunday School" manner about them which means they pitch what they say as if they were talking to children and they modulate their voice accordingly.

There are also not many decent organs within a radius of 10 miles around where I live and worship bands are increasing in number.

I am a dinosaur!

Trains

My bedroom is at the back of my house and a mainline railway runs just past at the bottom of the garden (see image). Now I like the trains so I have not considered this a problem. However, I have not been sleeping well, even if I have not been waking up a great deal (expect to visit the bathroom once a night). I decided to sleep in the spare room which is at the front. Last night I had a really good night and was chipper all morning today. By home time (8pm) I had had enough: I am clearly not as young as I was.

Fathers' Day

First of all I note that Google and Wikipedia have Father's Day - but I wonder if it should be Fathers' Day. Who cares, these days, when spelling on the internet is so dreadful?

I got up at 0635, was at work by 0755 and home again at 1402. I had a friend for lunch (which I'd put in the slow cooker). We washed up - I cut the lawn, watched some TV and had a snooze as I still get very tired in the afternoons.

My eldest daughter had sent me a Fathers' Day card and a present from Amazon which arrived last week: I opened them last week too. At 1931 I had a text to say she hoped I had had a good day. She has been travelling back form Kefalonia today where she had been with friends. She has had a very hard time this year what with one thing and another.

I had hoped she might phone me; I do not feel I can phone her a she will be tired. My younger daughter still lives with her mother from whom I am separated. We do not talk.

I am 60 in November. I don't feel I am any darn use to anybody. Nobody seems to listen to my opinions. What's the point of life?

Not feeling myself

Don't mess with me!

I am out of sorts today. Lots of little things I suppose and a general lack of sleep. I've been going to bed late and I have to get up at 0630 to get to school by 0745 each day.

I am associated with a small society about 50 minutes drive away (I shall not say which one) and I edit a Journal and do other membership tasks 'remotely' by email. I also need to buy stamps, envelopes and labels to post out the Journal, which I pay for and claim back. I have received no payment after a month. Thus I have emailed the committee to say I shall not do any further work for the society until I am paid.

Perhaps I will feel better when I have written all my school reports.

Consultation and Insurance Claim

I went to Leicester Hospital for a follow up consultation today. Most of the skin graft has grown back over the area of my glans from which the original graft shrivelled up after a haematoma. I had some questions I wanted to ask and was expecting to be told I ought to have a further Dynamic Sentinel Node Biopsy investigation, as check.

As it turns out, my consultant was away giving a lecture somewhere so I saw a locum consultant. He was an extremely pleasant chap and told me what I nice tie I was wearing. Sadly he knew very little about my case and opened with "You've had an MRI". I explained that the MRI was days prior to my glansectomy. He checked that it looked OK and sent me on my way.

Next appointment is in September.

Also I have claimed on my Critical Health Insurance policy. There is not long for the policy to run so whatever I receive will be a small sum I expect. However, the consultant has not sent back the paperwork to the company so I phoned his secretary to find out why. Apparently my notes keep moving around the hospital and do not stay in one place long enough to allow the consultant time to complete the forms.