Christ the King celebrated.

Another nice relaxed Sunday morning, with a drive to Alcocebre to celebrate the midday Eucharist of Christ the King with a congregation of under twenty this week. Autumnal reds and golds of vines and fruit trees now give a blaze of colour among the evergreens along the N340 highway south on a cool overcast day. A couple of solitary whores are, as usual, stationed at spots on the roadside, hoping to attract a client, though in this weather less daringly dressed. The roads are very quiet today and there are few lorries about. A police car drives ahead of me. The women don't wave, nor do the patrol cars flash their lights or stop. Both of them are frequent inhbitants of this lonely stretch of road where there's 10km between villages.

I returned in good time to cook a swordfish steak for lunch, with French beans, potatoes and some ratatouille I'd made yesterday. After a little relaxation, I decided to walk to the fishermen's chapel for the evening service. It took me longer than I thought, fifty minutes, and I arrived as hot and sweaty as if I'd been for a jog. It was the first time for Evensong to be celebrated. Churchwarden Paul and I shared it between us, having prepared the liturgical text during the week. We both realised while the service proceeded that someone else should have done the proof reading and final edit. Nevertheless we coped without much embarrassment, and the congregation enjoyed, almost as many as last week, stayed around and chatted again afterwards.

The last time I attended an evensong in church was when Phil was preaching in Tongwynlais, this time two years ago. The last time I officiated or preached at an evensong, I don't recall, it's such a rarity nowadays, and more's the pity since so many people remember it with fondness.

Anglican evening services withered and died at the time when early evening televisio in was showing 'The Forsyte Saga' a good forty years ago. In this era of TV on demand 24/7, I wonder if people's TV or social habits are changing yet again. As there's so much rubbish on TV, perhaps a live assembly of human beings, properly presented might once more become an attractive prospect. Who knows?