Slowly during the morning, as it was humid, I finished packing, cleaning up, taking out the rubbish, re-making the bed, making sure I left church house the way I found it. Then lunch and a final look around conscious that there's not much likelihood of returning here for the foreseeable future. Then I walked to the bus station tugging the case behind me, wearing a rucksack, damp with sweat, no escape from this kind of heat.
The entire bus waiting area, a hundred metres long, shielded by a stylish canopy, was crowded with travellers. I wondered how long I'd have to wait, but the ticket clerk said I's be on the next but to arrive in fifteen minutes. Two buses arrived, both for Malaga, and I headed for the front one, as it had arrived empty, unlike the other one. That turned out to be a good decision. Instead of taking an hour an forty minutes, stopping several times on the way, mind stopped once at Torre del Mar and then again at the estacion de buses in Malaga, to let passengers off. In one hour hive minute.
My reservation email from Booking.com offered directions to reach Hotel Don Paco, and as I followed the snail trail on the little map, it gave jerky updates of my position. The hotel was a lot nearer than I'd imagined. The corner of the building is in direct sight of the railway station main entrance, about 200 metres away, or 300, if you use the crossings safely. Perfect for my morning getaway! I checked in to a twin bedded room with bathroom, air-con and wi-fi, in the quiet back corner of the building's first floor, which has only a window to an internal stairwell, attractively tiled in Andalusian style with tiling icons of Jesus Cautivo and Nuestra Senora de Anguista on one wall. Simple, clean, quiet, inexpensive at €59 for a city centre room. Very pleasing indeed.
I visited a nearby local supermarket to buy a box of cherries, a bottle of water and some cerveza sin alcohol. It's just right in this heat. Bread, cheese and chorizo I brought with me for the journey, although the cheese was awful, the slices congealing together. Not a sensible purchase, unless you make it up into sandwiches first - which I hadn't done. I decided not to go out again after I'd eaten, but to relax quietly and catch up on unfolding events back in Britain.
I'm not surprised that Boris Johnston decided not to present his candidacy for Prime Minister. Some people, it seems were visibly shocked. They evidently hadn't been listening to his critics, nor noticed the tide of public resentment against him for the quality of the Brexit campaign. I wasn't at all surprised. With Cameron still at the helm, he could have buzzed around the political process like the gadfly he is, making things worse under the guise of being 'helpful', but with the success of his campaign triggering such instability and uncertainty, and everyone looking at Boris, he may indeed have been wondering - What have I done?
As the days go on, legal experts are starting to say that brexit may be unattainable by legal means because there are so many constitutional ramifications under treaty legislation. The idea of triggering a quick secession from the EU was ill informed, a politician's undertaking with no substance. In a correctly followed process, it could take decades, because of the complexity of international relationships and governance, and thus it might be quite unworkable in practise. In the end the referendum remains advisory, and Parliament is the only legal body that is charged with deciding and planning what to do on the basis of the advice.
Space travel and organ transplantation are a complex enough procedures, and it's taken decades of research and development to make them routine. There's no precedent for a mutually beneficial divorce between nations.
And so to bed.