Return to Wales

Yesterday morning celebrated the Eucharist for the last time in the Church shop honouring St Mary Magdalen with half a dozen faithful workers. Then it was simply a matter of going back to the house for a day of tidying, cleaning, gathering in and packing my goods and chattels for the journey home. Being so extremely humid, it wasn't an occasion to venture much beyond the rubbish and re-cycling bins. Not since a visit to Jamaica in the 1980's have I experienced such a combination of humidity and high temperature. Some Spanish people are saying it's not been so bad in their lifetime. It's hard to get a good night's sleep, so again I was up an hour before sunrise, dripping with perspiration from hardly any effort at all.

My last duty before leaving Nerja was to meet a couple whose wedding blessing is being performed on Sunday by the incoming locum priest, as he won't arrive in time to brief them before the service. It meant that I had to brief them according to his emailed instructions. Within the confines of liturgical formality priests may indeed vary in the manner they are accustomed to perform the ritual. This is probably the first time I've had to rehearse and explain a service to a couple on behalf of someone else, and I was unusually nervous about it. It worked out fine, as both had been married before and didn't need the kind of explanations that first-timers, often nervous, ask for.

I returned for an early lunch and completed packing, but had trouble figuring how the strap binding together a rather full and heavy soft case was meant to work. I wrestled with it and continued to drip sweat, not yet dressed for the journey when the doorbell rang adding to my panic. It was Judith who'd come to collect me for the airport run. Only when I'd been safely deposited inside Terminal Three at Malaga AGP, half an hour earlier in case of congestion, was I able to sit down and deal with the strap. There was indeed a half an hour queue at check-in, but I passed quickly through security afterwards, with lots of time to spare, and could at last relax.

I sat next to an interesting and sociable man from the Valleys about my age on the 'plane, who'd been a miner and then an underground fire and rescue officer for half his life, until the pits closed. He and his wife often holidayed in Nerja and were very fond of the place, getting to know many of the locals over the years, despite language differences. We talked quite a lot about mining, something I haven't done for years, and was glad to do. His life after pit closures took him eventually to working with students in a hall of residence for Glamorgan University, making friends with people from all over the world. The flight passed very quickly, and soon we were crossing the Severn Estuary, following the Jurassic coastline into cool and cloudy Rhoose Airport

My case was third to arrive on the baggage conveyor, and this meant I was on the next shuttle bus into town without delay. I walked home from the bus station, tugging my case, as that was preferable to a wait of half an hour to catch any one of several buses going Pontcanna or Canton way. I didn't mind at all, as the ambient temperature was bearable, despite the lack of blue skies.

Clare's gardening efforts this year have produced a lovely colourful summer display

Our little apple tree with its two kinds of fruit has an amazing crop of red and green apples, thanks to our local urban bee population.

While I've been away, the small garden birds have rediscovered our modest votive offering of seed. Despite the promise of more cloud and rain, it's good to be home.