Genuine blogging

We like to do various things on this blog but from time to time we actually like to blog (ie provide a web log). I especially like to do that when I've been busy with diverse things. I started writing this last Thursday afternoon in Membury Services on the M4. I was on my way back from my Uncle Frank’s funeral. Frank Hugh Evans was born in 1922, the youngest of 12 boys. A sister eventually followed (we should have kept going!). He grew up on Buck Farm near Risca and at 16 began working at the new colliery in Risca, moving on to other pits before early retirement in 1984. He met my mother’s older sister Joan when he was 21 and she was 14 and working in a café in Newport. They married in 1947 and had two daughters. Lorraine died while under a year and Marion was born in 1950. (Marion is my eldest surviving cousin on my mother’s side, followed by Gill and Alan, my Aunt Bette’s kids, then me, I think). I think Frank and Joan lived with her parents first then on the farm before moving to Cromwell Road, Risca, where we met before the funeral service. Frank smoked and drank beer all his life, took six sugars in his tea but was always very active and I don’t remember him having any fat on him. He was on the committee of the working men’s club – responsible for bingo calling (something he sometimes would do in his sleep we were told) and booking the turns (using the phone of the lady across the road). We travelled over the mountain to Risca. I’d arrived at my sister’s in Cwmbran late the night before after our midweek meeting in Childs Hill. It’s always strange coming back as I see places I don’t often see and forgotten memories return. I haven’t been to Risca in ages. Things flooded back though – the fire station at the back and being there when the alarm went off once; fishing for tadpoles in the canal further up; Uncle Frank giving me a safety helmet that I played with for years, etc. The family have had a long attachment to Moriah Baptist, Risca. Marion married David there in the seventies. Originally a Welsh speaking congregation it began to use English in order to reach more people coming in. The present large well kept chapel was built in 1893. It is a BU church. The present minister, John Hayward, has been there since 1976. He led the service well and in an evangelical way. We sang three verses of Bread of heaven and six of Abide with me. About 50 gathered – friends and family. I enjoyed talking to Frank’s brother-in-law (I think it was), a Pentecostal believer from Cwmcarn. I managed to get lost between the chapel and the crematorium trying to get through Newport (I have no sense of direction) but made my way back to the Top Club in Risca where we had a nice buffet lunch with plenty of black pudding and other delicacies available. It was nice to talk to the family – my dad and sister Gail, of course (I saw my nieces at home briefly before leaving); Joan and my Uncle Raymond (there are two brothers still living but neither copes very well with things); Marion and Gill; second cousins, Tracy, Julia and Joanna, Marion’s daughter. Joanna is married to Cai. They have two boys. Elliot is three and suffers from lissencephaly. He has had a gastrostomy tube fitted. He is a lovely little boy and the family love him. Seeing him when Parliament is about to debate abortion and related issues once again reminded me of the reality of all this.

*

I got back to London around seven. We had our church meeting in the evening, including the annual meeting. That went well. We inch along. For some reason Rhodri and I were in the mood to make a version of the Cat Stevens’ number ‘Father and son’. We’re a weird pair.

We’d had to have the officers meeting on the Tuesday so it was a busy week. I was also at my two meetings for the elderly during Wednesday and at the clubs on Friday night. Tuesday was taken up (before the officers meeting) with a prayer meeting down in Covent Garden, followed by two hospital visits – one to a psychiatric ward (never easy and not something I’ve done in years). Monday we had the annual meeting for the Grace Magazine trustees in the chapel. We keep our heads above water and serve God’s people as best we can. I was glad that Stan Evers was confirmed as permanent editor.

*

With all that whizzing about I felt quite out of it for much of Friday and didn’t get much done – not even this. No surprise! Anyway I felt better come Saturday. Eleri’s sister and family arrived from Bradford-on-Avon late on Friday for a wedding. It was nice to see them again especially little Osian. They brought a DVD that had been taken from a family video from 1993 and 1997. Viewing such material impresses on you how the years are flying by so quickly. Dylan spent most of the day in Brighton with friends. Eleri and Gwion popped up to see the wedding, which was in Finchley. I watched half of the FA Cup and was sad that Cardiff lost. Eleri, Rhodri, Sibyl and Dewi went to a twmpath (barn dance) organised by the school so weren’t in until late. Somewhere along the way I’ve been preparing for the Lord’s Day.

Sunday went well. We welcomed in a new member at communion and had a bumper crowd in the morning incuding three Romanians who turned up from nowhere. I preached from Mark 4 on the mustard seed in the morning and from Luke 1:46, 47 on magnifying the Lord with Mary in the evening.