The longest day, traditional beginning of Summer, warm enough for the fans to be running during the Almuñecár Eucharist, making enough background noise to encroach on the peace and quiet normally enjoyed at this relatively early morning celebration. A holiday making couple joined us. The husband said he'd been in Llandaff Cathedral Parish Choir when he was a boy. A lovely little link with home. At San Miguel later, we had Canadian, French and Norwegian visitors in the congregation.
There was a Catholic locum priest in the sacristy when I arrived, from Antequera. We chatted briefly before our service began. He hung around discreetly while we worshipped. After half an hour of socialising at the Eucharist, I returned to the church to collect my new hat, forgotten, but still there on the sacrsity table. The priest was busy with a pre-lunch baptism service. I wondered what time he'd get to eat today.
When I got back to Church house I was incredibly tired, not so much physically but drained more in mind that body. I slumped in a chair for ages before getting a snack, and it was evening before I got around to cooking a proper meal. One intense day on top of another it seems saps me of more energy than I'm used to. At seventy, I've already learned to adjust my pace in everything I do, but it seems my reserves of energy fall short of expectation. Another lesson about ageing to be learned.
Last night, I watched the Cardiff Singer of the World Song contest, a marvellous experience. Tonight it's the grand final, with a terrific orchestra and huge enthusiastic support from audiences. To think this was all happening the other side of Working Street from St John's, all the time I was Vicar there, and I never found time to watch, or get audience tickets, my attention being focussed elsewhere. It's a superb celebration of musicianship. The emerging generation of young singers is every bit as marvellous as those who thrilled us before.
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