By train from Fuengirola to Vinaros

Out of bed at six this morning, and buying my Cercania ticket at five to seven. The one minute past seven train didn't arrive - it's the Todos Santos bank holiday, and that means a Sunday timetable. The twenty past seven took me to Malaga Maria Zambrano station just after eight, with lots of time to check in for the AVE train to Cordoba, the second leg of my journey. Once we were under way, a steward came through checking people were seated where they should be. Because of the way the indicator at the train door switches alternately from showing the carriage number from left to right, travellers can get confused and take their seats in the wrong place. It didn't stop there. The steward's printout sheet told him I was bound for Vinaros, and he asked me to confirm this.

When we arrived at Cordoba there was another steward waiting on the platform for those who were changing from the AVE bound for Barcelona direct at high speed, to the TALGO Mediterraneo train, taking the slower route over the high plains down to Valencia, and then along the coast, stopping at Vinaros just after half past five on its way to Tortosa, Tarragona and finally Barcelona, my route to the airport when I leave for home. It was a wonderful journey through remarkable countryside, rolling plains full of olive trees, vineyards in autumnal dress, pine forests, stark grey mountains, such a variety of differently coloured soils, reminiscent of unfamiliar named colours in a childhood paint box. Seven and a half hours travelling from Cordoba to Vinaros. Such a pleasure.

Churchwarden Paul met me at the station, and took me to his home near Peniscola, where his wife Beryl gave me my first square meal of the day - shepherds pie followed by apple pie and custard. It went down very well. We reached the chaplain's house just after eight, familiar from my first long locum here two years ago, which I blogged under the title 'Spanish Sojourn', perhaps thinking I'd never return. Here I am having so far spent half of this year in Spain, with another seven weeks of duties before returning for Christmas. What a privilege at my time of life!