GP Sunday

Yesterday was a minimum effort day. Both of us are suffering a little from the high seasonal pollen count. The mimosa blossom is starting to appear, that's why, I reckon. I recall the heady scent and blocked sinuses from when we lived in Monaco. Blue skies and sun returned unchallenged this morning. We went into the centre and lunched on tapas again in a bar on the main square, then we sat in a shady spot on Calahonda beach all afternoon, and spent a quiet evening in front of the telly, watching an episode of 'Wallander' being shown now for the third time on BBC4, and conserved energy for our last Sunday here.

I woke up on time, just before the alarm, and made my first solo car journey to Almunecar for the nine thirty Eucharist, confident of finding my way after our reconnaisance visit mid-week. Seventeen of us were present for the service, and I joined then for coffee in a nearby hotel before returning. There were forty for the noon-tide Eucharist at Nerja afterwards, about two thirds of the normal average congregation, for the same reason. Numbers are starting to diminish now, as winter visitors return to U.K., and the summer influx of holiday-makers has yet to start. 

After the Nerja service we retired to the tapas bar across the street and chatted for an hour, keeping an eye and an ear out for the Formula One Grand Prix motor race, just getting under way up north in Barcelona. I thought of my two elder sisters, glued to their TVs back in Britain right now. Better not to phone them while it's on! 

We passed a quiet somnolent afternoon, doing little, then took ourselves into town to the restaurant of the Hotel Caribeo, overlooking the sea and offering the best european haute cuisine in town. A young guitarist with shoulder length hair provided music almost non-stop throughout of two and a half hour stay. A mix of Flamenco, Classical Spanish, Bach, Jazz pop and modern Latin-American. His playing was accomplished and occasionally tentative, suggesting to me that he's probably a conservatoire student, right on top of some of the music they have to learn, and working his way into new and different material. His playing, just audible above the buzz of conversation from two dozen diners was so enjoyable that I was initially distracted by the music, and struggled to choose from the menu what to eat.

The food was superb, although I hated eating so late, then having a half hour's walk home when sleepiness was about overwhelm me. Neverthless, it was a fitting finale to our stay here. Tomorrow we have to get the house clean and straight for Geoff and Carol's return from U.K. on a late evening flight.