Sunday birding extra

This Sunday, the last in Trinity, or Bible Sunday, or Church Dedication Sunday, take your pick. After a good ten hours slumber, I drove out to celebrate the Eucharist with the Llanos congregation, fifty odd people, as I wasn't surprised that there was confusion around the choice of readings that were intended for use, due to a last minute change, not in my control. 

The Revised Common Lectionary as authorised by the Church of England, and broadcasted by its marvellous web app, provides for all three of options for use on this day. Making the decision and informing others about which set of readings to use is not straightforward. It relies on everyone getting and reading emails in the event of any changes occurring between different congregations and preachers. The complexity of the lectionary doesn't help everyone to keep up to speed. 

We're already messed about too much by having Continuous and Related streams of Old Testament readings to decide upon, let alone completely different sets of readings to choose from. It makes me long for earlier times and simpler schemes, much as I rejoice at the variety of scripture to reflect and preach on in the course of the year. Tolerance of so many choices speaks of committees unable to agree a clear set of objectives for each learning event for given Sundays of the year. The power politics of old fashioned churchmanship seems to be there somewhere in the background, plus we also have to cope with more Sundays designated as days of prayer showcasing special church social and missionary concerns. 

Do we need all this as a given of arranging liturgy? Are our ecclesial overlords experimenting with a 'Let the market decide' long term strategy? Given that next Sunday could be observed as Reformation Sunday, given that Tuesday is the 500th anniversary of Luther's 95 Theses, perhaps it  isn't such a bad time to ask the question. We've had forty years of liturgical enrichment on top of earlier reforms, so the basic regular diet of worship is now more complex than it need be, just as it was in pre-reformation times, occasioning radical revision and creative innovation. 

After church, I drove back, making a deviation to discover the town of Huercal Overa, in the sierras to the east of the A7 autovia, near the provincial border with Murcia. It's a town that sprawls over a plateau overlooking the Almanzora valley, having outgrown its ancient centre. I didn't find much there to encourage me to explore in detail, so I was soon heading back to Mojácar for lunch.

Later in the afternoon, I drove over to Villaricos, and discovered a large lake situated to the north and west of the watercourse of the rio Almanzora. Back in history, this might have been an ox-bow lake, but there is what looks like a 25m high spoil heap offshore, suggesting that in times past it had been quarried for gravel. But no longer. The westernmost end is elevated, and water gives way to salt flats, with all the interesting wildlife this harbours. The shallower end to the east hosts a variety of aquatic wildfowl, ducks, herons and egrets, even a grey coloured flamingo, a fairly recent arrival following storms. Grey coloured, because the local ecosysten doesn't contain the tiny shrimps which form the flamingo staple diet, and afford the unique colouration of its plumage. I was there too early to see returning hosts of egrets returning to roost I was told of yesterday . The ones I snapped on lake islands were those with no need to commute to feed for whatever reason, I guess.

From there, I drove to Vera Playa, parked the car and walked a couple of kilometres along the beach to Laguna Pueblo, where the rio Almanzora becomes a somewhat larger charco than the one in Mojácar, where it reaches the sea, extending back a couple of kilometres inland, surrounded by tall reed beds full of watland birds of every kind. Another amazing place, not far from Mojácar! The sun was starting to set when I reached here, so there wasn't much time to explore. So glad to have discovered it, however. I will return.

   

Birding update

The usual Saturday routine today, finishing and printing my Sunday sermon, a walk to Mercadona for a few items of grocery, a walk up to the bridge over the charco to see if there any new birds are to be seen. There were three egrets visible again. I think this is a nuclear family which has settled here rather than wherever else these birds make a home in this region.

On the bridge tonight were a couple about my age toting big long lens DSLR cameras, espying the waters. Eventually we got around to chatting. They were birders visiting from the USA, following any local avian intel they could find on the internet. They told me about the salinas near Villaricos, the other side of Garrucha, which was the current major overnight roosting place for flocks of egrets I'd seen here this time last year. It's the site where others have told me flamingos can be seen. That tripmsounds like it;s worth the effort to make. It's only ten kilometres away. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight. The clocks go back, and I'm determined to take advantage of this and get a really long night's rest.

   

Catalunya crosses the line

It was good to learn that Clare and Kath were both safely home, despite a turbulent flight, and a sleep invading electronic buzz from a loudspeaker which none of the crew seemed able to suppress. Odd that the captain should apologise for turbulence, for which heaven and air traffic control routing are responsible, but not for noises off. Never mind, all's well that ends well.

Pam and Alwyn took me out for a meal at the Imperial Italian restaurant nearby this lunchtime. It's the first proper opportunity we've had to sit and chat, as they've been pretty busy since I arrived. Such a relief for them to know their new Chaplain will be in post by the time Lent starts.

I walked for a few kilometres along the Paseo de Marina as the sun was setting. The urbanizacion's gardener has been trimming the trees this past week, and has made good progress. Two thirds of the job is done already, and he's filled a large industrial skip with prunings. Along Calle de la Mata are a succession of sculpted trees, possibly of the laurel family, with laurel shaped and coloured leaves the size of dinner plates, plus palm tree fronds. The skip is very over-full. He stands the three metre long palm fronds close together vertically along the sides of the skip, which then means he can pile leaves much higher than the edges of the skip. I'd love to see what happens when the skip is collected.

I overheard him speaking with one of the neighbours as I started my paseo. The one word I caught was "Catalunya". Today the regional Parliament voted to declare independence, and the national government has voted to dissolve the Catalan parliament and impose direct rule from Madrid. I think a long slow political train crash has just started. I just hope and pray things won't get ugly. Catalan activists have promised non-violent action. This is going to divide the loyalties of civil servants, local government officials and communities all over the region. And, play havoc with the economy. As if Europe didn't have enough to cope with already, due to brexit, and the chaos it threatens to bring, at home and abroad. How easily people can lose any sense that we are all 'members of one another' as St Paul says.

  

Tales of wine

Another drive to Albox-Aljambra this morning to celebrate the Eucharist in honour of Saints Simon and Jude. There was a excellent shared lunch afterwards in church, and an opportunity to talk with people I'd not spoken with before. I had a small glass of an interesting Alto Almanzora Valley wine, named Este from a vineyard west of Albox. The label said it was a blend of 47% Monastrell, 23% Tempranillo, 12% Syrah, 6% Garnacha, 6% Merlot, and 6% Cabernet Sauvignon. Remarkable.

Using six varieties of grape is fairly unusual these days. One or two is more normal, although I've come across Valencian wines which use more. Some regions still have estates where traditional wine making recipes have persisted, or been revived and refined with modern brewing technologies. Using whatever kind of grapes can be grown rather than being so selective, in fermenting is the ancient way of doing it. With mixed results though, not to everyone's taste.

After the meal and clearing up, Lay Reader Duncan took me a cafe in Albox, much frequented by English speaking people, to meet a couple whose baby I'll be Christening at Aljambra in a fortnight's time. Their little eight week old daughter was born with a full head of chestnut coloured hair, and it hasn't fallen out yet. It's lovely to behold.

I stopped at Lidl's in Garrucha on the way back for some food shopping. In the wine aisle I overheard this remark from a Spanish couple: "Si ese vino es de Catalunya, no debemos comprarlo." Mojácar is about five hours drive from the Catalan border, but it seems people all over Spain are unhappy about the events unfolding there. The company has over 500 stores in Spain but seems to be run from Barcelona. It'll be interesting to see what economic impact separatism has on this significant trader in the Euro-supermarket field.

    

Pueblo rendezvous

Late this afternoon I made the hour long walk on back lanes up to Mojácar Pueblo past citrous grenadine and fig trees in orchards at the foot of the hill on which the pueblo is perched. The aroma is enchanting. I had a rendezvous with Don Miguel, the Parish Priest to make arrangements for the bi-lingual ecumenical service of Nine Lessons and Carols, scheduled for the first Monday of Advent, just after I leave. It's an event that's happened here for over twenty years, and is popular with locals and expats alike.

When I arrived at the church. he was sitting at the front, with a small group of women, playing the guitar and singing in a lovely tenor voice. Then the women sang something they knew, and discussed a little, as if they were working on a common song repertoire. I wondered what they were preparing for. Eventually he summoned me to join him in the sacristy, and then we worked on confirming the order of service and which language the readings would be in.

Don Miguel spoke a little English but was happy to let me work with him in Spanish, putting up with my faults and vocabulary lapses. It was a delightful experience with much laughter, plus the pleasure of being on the job with a ministerial colleague, and although the uphill climb had been quite taxing, I felt I had a spring in my step on the return journey.

Clare flies back to the UK from Arizona tonight. I was glad to catch her and Kath briefly on Skype before they set out for the airport, and wish them godspeed before the ten hour flight and then four hour trips back to Cardiff and Kenilworth. They've had a wonderful two weeks with Rachel and Jasmine. It'll be reassuring to have them back within a few hours flying time.

   

The spice of life

A quiet, uneventful start to the week apart from visits to the bridge over the charco, spotting a couple of herons, well they may be a pair, but they tend to stay well apart from each other once breeding is over. There's just one egret out there again, the other two I saw seem to have quit. What's happened to the hundreds I saw last year? I wonder.

Today I phoned Fr Miguel the local parish priest, to confirm with him a date for the ecumenical carol service which happens a week after I leave here. I'll go to the Wednesday evening Mass in the parish church at Mojácar pueblo this week, and meet him properly. It'll give me an opportunity to exercise my Duo Lingo Spanish.

I had an email confirming an earlier request to do locum duty in Málaga during Lent and Holy Week. So that's January in Montreux, home for February, then Málaga for March and April. It will mean living there for the period of remarkable religious processional events, not just commuting in for a few hours at a time, as I did in 2014 from Fuengirola. It interests me greatly to see how the city continues to go about daily life, welcoming hosts of tourists as well as those who make what is in effect a pilgrimage there to participate in the cermonies. For balancing normality, I'll have the variety of three Anglican Chaplaincy congregations to minister to, at what is my favourite season of the Christian year.

When I think of the places I've done locum duties in Spain, what makes this enjoyable is that within a chaplaincy, congregations aren't clones of each other. Each has a different history as well as different context. Liturgy used will be much the same, but each gathering for worship expresses itself uniquely, and as a priest one has to develop a particular relationship with each. Variety is the spice of life!

Another walk to Garrucha this evening. A new large bulk carrier is loading in port, called Yeoman Bank, registered in Liberia. It's unusual among big ships I've noticed here, described by the Marine Traffic ship database as a 'Self Discharging Bulk Carrier' which explains the distinctive superstructure attached to its bow section. As it's currently loading, this is not in use, and is displaced high above the water, away from the loading quay.

For reasons unknown, the ship database shows correctly that it is currently berthed in Garrucha, but the Garrucha Port section of the Marine Traffic website shows no trace of its visit. This website is vast and complex. Keeping it up to date must be a nightmare, and not everything can be automatically sync'd. It's amazing we have such information resources anyway.

    

Liturgical karaoke

A warm and bright Sunday for the twenty minute drive to the Ermita de San Pascual de Baylon to celebrate the Eucharist and preach for a congregation of four dozen. We had no organist, but for the first time a new digital hymn reproduction system to use. I would have preferred to lead singing unaccompanied, being aware of the many pitfalls of recorded music, but agreed to go along with the proposal, having made a few adjustments to some hymn settings before we began. I guess people have to learn for themselves the challenge they take on, when they let themselves be led by a machine, however thoughtfully designed.

Instead of an organist accompanying a congregation, and adjusting to the variable pace of singing, a congregation must follow the music if they can. One can vary the speed and the pitch on modern equipment, use a musical introduction or not, but it's not straightforward. It works best with simple metrical hymns. Anything syncopated is a nightmare. In any singing group, people will have different ideas of rhythm and phrasing. Singing together coherently in a congregation can be learned with even modest musical leadership. Doing so from scratch, as happened this morning, was a hit and miss affair. Singing together with recorded music needs to be taught. It doesn't help if the music isn't audible to singers at the back. Operating the device, and how adjustments can be made to fit the natural pace of the congregation needs to be learned. It's not the quick easy solution I imagine it's marketed to be. But, with good will and good humour, we survived.

After lunch and a siesta, I walked along the coast road, eight kilometres to Garrucha and back. I needed the exercise after several days of relative inertia. On the way out from the charco bridge, I saw three egrets, two more than last Tuesday's sighting. I wonder if more will return, or if this is a stray family separated from the huge flock which was roosting here at night this time last year? 

I enjoyed the convivial buzz of people out walking along the Paseo de Malecon, as the sun was setting. It's a more compact town than Mojácar, and the walk along the sea front promenade is the most natural one to take for socialising during the paseo. 

Word memory

Gradually, the weather becomes more autumnal. It's still quite mild with daytime temperatures in the low twenties, but occasionally with stiff breezes which draw kite surfers out to offshore waters. Today started with overcast skies, and it rained before sunrise. With Sunday's sermon complete, I walked to Mercadona for weekend groceries, then visited the bridge over the charco,  (a word I'm training myself to repeat before I forget it again), to describe the local nature reserve with my camera, to see what there was to be seen early evening. 

I was fascinated to observe a purple swamp hen using its strong red clawed non-webbed feet to pull shoots from a clump of reeds, then proceed to strip the pith from its core to feed on. I obtained a few good photographs, including this one.

Several shots I took in what I must remember to call 'burst mode'. It's a setting I use so rarely I'd forgotten where it's located, so resorted to downloading the HX300 pdf manual to find out. It's not the most user-friendly of texts, so this took me a while. Mind you, it didn't help that I was unclear about the name of the rapid fire facility. All I could remember was the slang French photographic term for this, mitrailler, which means 'machine gun' after the noise made by a rapidly firing shutter.

Everyone complains about memory lapses as they get older, recall may still be there but isn't quite as efficient as it used to be, sometimes more erratic. If you use words rarely, it becomes an effort to find them when you need them. For me, writing this blog as often as I have something to tell about life in retirement, helps me remember the sequence of life's events when it threatens to blur, and acquires gaps from neglect. More than that though, the very varied act of narration is a fine way of exercising language memory, although I wouldn't dare to try writing in anything other than English. I admire those who do. 

Language has been a fascination to me since I was young. Poor teaching in Grammar School sadly sapped my speaking confidence in a way that took decades to recover from. With a little help from encounters with linguistic philosophy through Clare at University, however, curiosity never left me and exploring language still affords much pleasure.

Community in grief

Yesterday evening during the bereavement visit, the family agreed to let me lead the unaccompanied singing of 'Abide with me' during Mother's funeral service, rather than have a recording of the hymn played to listen to. It was going to be an awful lot of logistic fuss to obtain and distribute hymn books just for this, so I printed off the text, three to an A4 sheet, enough for three dozen people or more, if  they shared. I got all the necessary preparations done before bed, except for cutting the sheets. In fact, I only remembered just before it was time to go, and the job took me longer than anticipated. Even so, I arrived at Arboleas Thanatorium at one o'clock, exactly an hour before, and had all the time I could need to prepare before the mourners started arriving.

There were 12-15 family members present, including a babe in arms. I was amazed at the number of local friends and neighbours who turned out. The chapel was full, standing room only, and there were several people outside in the entrance hall as well. There were roughly three people for each hymn sheet, quite unexpected. Altogether, there were over a hundred people present. The couple are clearly well known and well loved by the expatriate community. 'Abide with me' went fine, and the recorded version was played at the end of the service while people were leaving. I cued it in a little earlier than I needed to, and as a result I had to pray the blessing over the music, which fortunately was at a low volume, and it worked quite well, though it's not something I'd normally think of doing..

Afterwards, Father and eldest son accompanied the hearse to the crematorium, while the rest of the congregation adjourned to the bar/restaurant of the nearby sports centre, colloquially known as the Pool Bar, because of its piscina. When I first heard it described thus I started looking out for some establishment on a street with pool tables, but thankfully, one of the people to whom I gave a lift had been there, and explained. Almost all of the congregation went there, socialized and offered their condolences to the family. I stayed until father and son returned, paid my respects and took my leave of them. Many of those remaining, I imagine, would be there until supper time. The good thing which expat retired communities have, is plenty of time for each other, and this was one of those days when time together would be healing.

 

 

Searching for words and remembering lives lost

This morning I attended a local Royal British Legion fund raising coffee morning, held at a charming small restaurant with a huge shady tree on its street side patio, often sheltering scores of chattering starlings when I pass by. It's fifteen minutes walk from the apartment along the beach road, when I go out shopping on foot. 'El Burladero Berria' is its name. I was surprised when the name checked out in  the dictionary as 'brothel'. It took me days to realise I'd miss-spelled the word as 'burdelero', when it was first told to me. It even went into my Google Calender incorrectly. 'Burladera' is Spanish for a mocking bird. 'Burladero' is what the enclosure serving as a bull fighter's ringside refuge is called, quite an uncommon noun, which had digital dictionaries struggling. So really, to name a restaurant after a place of respite in a hurly-burly, is quite appropriate, so long as you get the spelling right!

There were three dozen at the gathering, chatting drinking coffee, consuming pastries and chocolate biscuits. The Chairman opened with the Act of Remembrance, and closed with the Kohima Prayer, and we were treated to a raffle and a quiz run by Mick, the standard bearer who serves at Mojácar church. I was quite surprised to learn at the end of it that ours was the winning table. I bought a pin badge, commemorating the centenary of the battle of Paschendaele in which my Great Uncle Will was lost without trace. 

It's only recently that war documentaries have revealed the work of tunnelers digging behind enemy lines and laying huge deadly landmines on the Western Front. Will was a young cavalryman, who left the army in 1901, married and became a miner in Bedwas Colliery. He was over forty when the call came to re-enlist. For most of the century it was thought he disappeared on patrol, perhaps drowning in the mud. In his youth he'd been a Colour Sergeant, but in 1916, he was only a Corporal. It seems he was recruited because he was an experienced miner, though the circumstances of his demise are not revealed in his brief military record. It's a story still to be told.

In the afternoon, I drove to Arboleas to make a bereavement visit, co-incidentally to a military family of Ulster origins. Father, and two of three sons served in the Armed Forces, but it was Mother who died suddenly and unexpectedly. The youngest  son coming from Northern Ireland hadn't yet arrived, due to difficulties in obtaining a flight in half term week, plus gale force winds currently lashing the west of the U.K. The eldest son came from Vienna where he works, cutting short his holiday in Greece. The middle son working in Saudi Arabia who came the furthest, was first there, thanks to his employers ensuring he left within a few hours of hearing the sad news. For all their geographical dispersion, a close knit family. The couple had known each other since the year I was born, and had been married four months short of sixty years. I left them after an hour together, with a lovely story to tell at tomorrow's funeral of life together well lived.

   

St Luke honoured nevertheless

It's St Luke's Day, and I confess my sadness at not having an opportunity to celebrate this fiesta at Mass with a worshipping community. We know more about the kind of man he was from his Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, than from any biography that might be constructed about him. I'd like to think that the attention his writings give to people, and what they had to endure in life, has had lasting influence on how pastoral care is  understood among Christians.

The morning's overcast weather turned briefly to thunder and rain by lunchtime. After rain, a fresh outbreak of birdsong from the trees in this neighborhood. The distinct voice of the blackbird among the hosts of starlings and doves. Once the skies began to clear, I walked out across the charco road bridge, then up and around the periphery of the Marina del Torre Golf course, where last year I spotted hoopoes and took several photos. No such luck this time. 

Rain threatened, which brought me back downhill quite fast. I hung around the area for three quarters of an hour, waiting to inspect the small array of shops servicing golf course apartments to reopen after siesta, listening meanwhile on my Blackberry to St Luke's Day Evensong, broadcasted on BBC Radio Three. It was strangely soothing at the end of a dull uneventful afternoon.

The shops, in the basement of an apartment block were half shoe and clothing outlets, most of the remaining space was taken by a Chinese dry goods store. I love the Greek term 'pantopoleion' which describes such comprehensive retailing. The corner nearest the street was a mini-market whose stocks reflected current lack of demand from holiday visitors. Few people I imagine, apart from staff live in this area out of season. Interesting to see, nevertheless. 

The economy in leisure resorts is by nature, cyclical. Only those who are good at long term planning will profit from investing in property and infrastructure here. There's always money to be made around the staging of big one-off leisure events, like festivals and tournaments, but those investing time and energy in those activities are not so likely to be there long term. 

It's interesting to compare different kinds of economic enterprise, with the diversity of inter-relationships between species in the natural world. Inter-dependency, balance and resilience under external and internal pressure enable all kinds of species to flourish. Disasters happen when any part of any dynamic system fails to take into account its connection to the whole. 

It's what see now in relation to brexit, and in America's relationship to everything which isn't of America, as defined by the Trump presidency. The world is in the process of re-learning essential lessons at the moment. The harsh way, unfortunately.

 

Caring for the watercourse

After a good long sleep, Monday began with a walk to Mercadona to shop for groceries. Then came a call about a funeral on Friday, another bereavement in the hamlet of Los Corrascos outside Arboleas, in the early 1990s urbanizacion I was called on to visit about a funeral last week. My tea time bird watching walk was interrupted by a call from Ashley. We spent a long time on the phone which led to me drafting a statement for publication about recent BCRP changes for emailing by Julie to the CBS user base not long before I went to bed. 

Today it's been mainly cloudy and cool, good walking weather. First I went to the nature reserve and saw an egret for the first time this year. Curiously, it was roosting in a waterside reed bed a couple of metres away from the one grey heron I've now seen a couple of times.

I continued walking up the north side track along the bank of rio Aguas. Where the river bed bends at the top of the valley, a large tracked vehicle with a mowing arm was attacking the tall thick forest of reeds and cane that has taken over the surface of the river bed where water runs underground. Last time I walked up here, I noticed that extensive clearance of the watercourse had recently taken place. 

Further up towards the pueblo, the dry river bed seems free of this kind of vegetation. Gravel bedding whether natural or artificial, I don't know, seems only to permit a scattering of small bushes there. It may be that subterranean water runs under bedrock or at least too deep for reed and cane to flourish in that section. It makes sense to clear the watercourse, as dense vegetation would impede the immense if occasional flow of storm water and cause a low lying area to floor. Prevention is better than cure. The marine wetland area will suffer damage any time there's a huge amount of storm water but as I've seen, following last winter's coastal floods, the ecosystem is indeed resilient.

I climbed up to the top of Mojácar Pueblo, right to the mirador on the site of the mediaeval castillo. The imposing 1970s hotel El Moresco dominating the north face of the hill on which the town stands has been 'closed for repairs' for the past seven years, its glass front entrance doors and walls have graffiti on them now. An early victim of recession, refurbishment fund-raising or investment beyond reach, it's slowly turning into an eyesore, in contrast to the rest of the pueblo, which looks well kept and prosperous.

When I was here mid November last, I arrived to find that the huge north facing mirador terrace had been closed and was being excavated. I believe the condition of the car parks underneath the terrace was the reason for this unexpected activity, at the end of the autumn holiday season. Sure enough, the terrace had been restored, and its neighboring restaurants were open for business. It looked, however, as if the car park restoration is still a work in progress. More parking nightmares for locals, sadly.

The walk back down to the apartment took another hour despite taking a shortcut on tracks away from the main road to Mojácar Playa, and I made it before twilight. A walk of about 10km in all. I'll sleep well tonight.

Finally, I got around to remembering to look back at blog entries made during my stay here last year, in an effort to recover the forgotten local Spanish word used to describe the nature reserve's water enclosure. It's charco which translates as 'puddle' rather than pool or pond, perhaps because by nature it may grow or shrink according to weather conditions, so its boundaries may be somewhat fluid. A nice little linguistic curiosity.
    

  

Orientation

Yesterday was uneventful, just getting ready for Sunday and walking out, late in the afternoon, along the coast road in search of a pharmacy open for business. All three I identified were closed, as one may imagine on this Spanish bank holiday weekend, but none displayed information about any local 24 hour pharmacy which might be open. Ah well, nothing open. But, there must be a way of finding out where there is one.

This morning I drove to Llanos del Peral to celebrate the Eucharist. I had no trouble finding my way there, but was surprised I didn't recall the 5km journey from the main road up to the village in much detail until I drove it. I've noticed that I rely on visual memory and knowing where the sun is to take me places I've been before. I recall specific landscape features and navigate point to point between them. I was clear instructions to reach a coffee morning venue, except they didn't specify the starting point or general direction. Fine for locals who know where's where, but disconcerting for a stranger like me. No such thing as a stupid question however.

We were forty worshippers, in a chapel that holds fifty, with a positive receptive atmosphere in which to preach. Outside the chapel is a patio where umbrellas, chairs and tables are arranged for after-service fellowship. At this time of year the midday temperature is a pleasant 25C, so it's a pleasure to sit around and chat for a while before heading back to Mojácar.

Early evening, I walked along  the Camino del Palmeral, the back road leading to Mojácar Pueblo. I didn't have time to walk  all the way up there before dark, so turned back at the filling station towards Mojácar Playa, making a 6km circuit before the sun set. The last couple of kilometres I walked along the deserted beach for a change, enjoying the sound of waves crashing on the shore and gravel crunching under my feet as the sun set. A good conclusion to my second Sunday here, rounded off with an early bed-time.
 

Happy prospects

Alwyn and Pam dropped by this morning and took me out for coffee and a catch up chat. They were on holiday in Egypt just before I arrived, but when they returned to the UK, were caught out by the collapse of Monarch Airlines, and had to wait several days until they could get a flight back home to Alicante where their car awaited them. Both are looking happy and relaxed, and not just because they had a lovely holiday with the family over there, but also because the search for a new Chaplain has been fruitful, someone has agreed they want to come and minister here. Just knowing that much lifts a great burden from their shoulders. People will speculate and gossip, but it'll be a while before the name is announced here and elsewhere synchronously, but never mind. Most of the wait for a new priest is over. I'm happy for them, and happy to be out of another locum job, in effect.

I walked back from town via the Consum supermarket, after chatting with Alwyn and Pam, and bought a few sampler packets of dried meats to try. After a siesta, I walked inland along the north side of the rio Aguas and back along the south side, crossing at the point where there's a track over the river course, but it runs several metres underground. I got several photos of birds in a flock of white wagtails that comes down to the river as the sun sets to catch their supper. When the sunilight is at a certain angle, it may make insects easier to see. Their aerobatic flight path is bizarre, a succession of zig-zags in tight formation, not nearly as gracious as that of swifts, but more difficult to sustain, as they don't glide much. After a short series of aerial manouvers, wagtails set down on a branch or a reed to recover, before taking off again. I observed and photographed a few last year. This year there are many more of them.

  

Columbus Day

Apart from a walk up to the bridge over the rio Aguas to check out the evening wildlife, I stayed in, all day Tuesday and Wednesday, sleeping, eating and drinking Thyme Tea, to alleviate the symptoms of the cold. And it worked. By the time I woke up today, my head was clearer than it has been for a week and my chest was less sore. I wasn't concerned that another 45 minute drive up the Almanzora Valley to Aljambra would make me feel worse, and set off for the Midweek Communion service in the capilla with confidence. It was made a little easier by the lack of traffic on the roads, as today is Columbus Day, a Spanish Bank Holiday.

During my two days of down-time, I wrote both a Thursday and a Sunday sermon using Trinity 18 Mass readings, but focusing on the Related for one and Continuous for the other. There are times when both are interesting enough to be worth exploring separately, which you can't do in one sermon. I continue to enjoy working on Jewish scriptural texts in a way I didn't when I was younger, when I would happily have done away with Old Testament readings on grounds that they lacked relevance to today. As I get older, many more of the Psalms seem to connect with how I experience what is going on in the modern world, and difficult though Old Testament stories and prophecies can be until their context is exposed, I can find contemporary relevance in them more easily than ever. Here's hoping my audiences agree!

After the service, David and Kath took me for lunch at 'Bistro Bonita' in in the country village of Oria on the plain north west of Albox. All shops close, and most restaurants are fully booked with families enjoying time out together. The restaurant is owned and run by an ex-submariner British chef, with his sister, since his wife died. It's a favourite eating place with expats as his menu is wonderfully unpretentious British 'home cooking', delivered with the highest quality fresh ingredients, and loving application of olive oil and garlic where necessary. The Aljambra congregation can raise forty for the annual Christmas dinner here, and it's packed to the doors. Salad, spatchcock chicken, apple and plum crumble with custard. It was most enjoyable, and the conversation over lunch was also a pleasure.

The journey on minor roads of the main highway took us past a huge industrial plant, whose purpose seemed to be the conversion of locally quarried gypsum into plasterboard panels. Trees and plants in fields for a kilometer downwind from the factory were coated greyish white with stone dust. It would be impossible for people to live in that zone. I wondered about the health of the wildlife too.

Much of the region's gypsum is exported from Garrucha Port in bulk carriers, for use in similar manufacturing plants in other Mediterranean countries where I imagine labour is cheaper. Last weekend I observed one bulk carrier loading on my way through Garrucha, and three anchored off shore. That's twice as many ships as I saw queuing to load up this time last year. Also I noticed a tower crane in action lately on the unfinished apartment buildings on the tall escarpment overlooking the rio Aguas. Small symptoms of an economy beginning to pick up? I hope so.

Worship travels

I woke up yesterday morning conscious that a chest cold was developing. Whether it's a late development of the bug that laid Clare low last week, or a bug picked up on the journey here is anyone's guess. The roads were almost empty as I drove the twenty minute journey to the Capilla de San Pascual de Baylon to celebrate the Eucharist there were over sixty of us present. I was glad the Chaplaincy's resident retired Church Army Captain Edwin Bates was there to assist on my first Sunday back here since this time last year. 

After stopping off for a drink with half a dozen fellow worshippers on the way back to the apartment, it was half past two by the time I was cooking lunch. Then I had an hour to prepare another sermon for Evensong, before setting off on the forty five minute journey to the Almanzora Valley to Aljambra, where there were fifteen of us for the service. Instead of going out for supper with members of the congregation at a favourite Chinese restaurant, I decided to head back to Mojacar and bed, as the effects of the developing cold became more apparent.

Sure enough I woke up with a miserable cough, and though it took me a while to get going, I knew I would be able to cope with another drive up the Almanzora Valley to Arboleas Thanatorium for the funeral at midday, this time a forty minute journey. There were about thirty mourners there, many of them from the neighbourhood where all had bought homes and settled in retirement back in the early nineties. Afterwards, the hearse drove the coffin to a crematorium on a separate site elsewhere. Mourners stood outside, and gave a round of applause as it went past them.

On the way back, I stopped at a hardware superstore in Los Galliardos and bought a small saucepan, one of the few essentials lacking in the apartment kitchen. Then, the week's main grocery shopping at Lidl's in Garrucha, before returning to the apartment to lie low for the rest of the afternoon. I did go out later in the evening, in search of something to take for my cold, and decided to try thyme tea, a herbal remedy much used in France apparently. It has a distinctive taste and a wonderful aroma. I hope it makes a difference, or I'll have to move on to something stronger. At least the 4km walk in the dark warm evening air (21C), didn't make me feel worse. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Natural engineering

After breakfast, a walk around the nature reserve to discover how the sand bar, denuded of vegetation at its southernmost end had been re-forged along the line of least resistance for the flood waters, giving an interesting shape to the lake's sea shore boundary. The lake waters still teem with fish. There's an abundance of coots, a few mallards. a heron, grasshoppers,and butterflies. I heard and saw briefly on the ground a single warbler. A puddle in a mud patch under the road bridge played host to scores of small brown frogs. The only notable absence, which I observed last night was the colony of egrets. Winter flood waters may have wrecked the habitats of some species, though nature is resilient, so maybe the egrets will return some time.

At the end of the afternoon, I drove to Arboleas for the bereavement visit, meeting the wife and son of the man who died. They had been able to nurse him themselves at home right to the end, which is a real blessing for an old man. Co-incidentally, I officiated this time last year at the funeral of another man who'd lived in a nearby street of this urbanizacion. When the place was built in the early nineties, most of those who settled there were retired British or other European expats, content to live out the rest of their days far from their native soil. Whether this generation will be replaced by other retirees in the present political and economic climate remains to be seen. I don't suppose I'll end my life somewhere abroad. Much as I appreciate the climate and landscape of places I visit, I have yet to find a place where I feel I could settle permanantly. Where we live in Pontcanna is far from being my ideal location. It's a compromise, we can live with, and probably die with.

No internet connection all day today. The device is working, and displays a green light, but doesn;t deliver, and this time I know not why. I investigated the router firmware, but this didn't shed any light on the matter. Can it have exceeded its monthly data cap already in 36 hours? I'm not such a heavy user, no video only a few hours of radio streaming and some VOIP calls, unless yesterday's call from Geoff, lasting over an hour wiped the monthly allowance. There's no way of finding out however. The router isn't as smart as a smartphone.

Settling in

I promised myself a early walk to the nearby nature reserve lake, but no sooner than I'd got up, I had a phone call from John at Collyfer, one of the region's Funeral Directors, about a funeral in Arboleas Thanatorium next Monday. This will involve a bereavement visit to an outlying village a couple of kilometres from Arboleas, itself a forty minute drive from Mojacar. I tried ringing later on but only got the family's answering machine.

Then, after breakfast I had an hour long catch-up Skype chat with Archdeacon Geoff, filling me in on various items of news, and sounding me out for ideas about a fresh approach to a couple of outstanding issues. That's the benefit of having known each other for twenty five years, since we first worked together.

I decided to go shopping for fruit and veg before making lunch, but it was beyond lunchtime when I got around to walking rather than driving to Mercadona, for the exercise. By the time's I'd cooked, it was nearly tea time, but it didn't matter, as I have no routine established at the moment. Somehow, the evening slipped by as well. 

By the time 'The Archers' was over, it was already dark, and I took off for the beach to take photos of the Harvest full moon rising about the waters, albeit half an hour late. Then I walked up to the road bridge over the nature reserve. In the moonlight could see that it has now a different shape than it had last year. Torrential winter rain breached and carried away the reeds and bushes that colonised the shore line sand bar, but I couldn't see in the dark whether or not the breach led to open water. I'll find that out tomorrow.

  

Mojácar bound

I was pleased not to have to get up extra early for my Alicante bound flight this morning, and said goodbye to Clare at ten to nine. I was less pleased when no 61 bus appeared after twenty minutes waiting. I that time normally three should have appeared. Feeling desperate and furious at Cardiff Bus, I strode down to a bus stop on Cowbridge Road, and caught an X1 bus to the bottom of St Mary Street, after a two minute wait. As I boarded, three 61 buses came past on to Cowbridge Road within minutes of each other, one a double decker. What on earth is going on? What excuse can there be for this kind of unpredictability when buses now use digital scheduling mechanisms that synchornise with bus stop heads up displays?

Thankfully, a T9 Airport shuttle bus pulled in a minute after my arrival at the Custom House Street stop, the one after I had intended to catch. Just as I arrived at Vueling bag drop, the desks opened to receive luggage from a queue of about forty people, and I began to calm down and relax. Forty give minutes later, I sat and waited in the departure lounge for my flight to be called and drank a coffee. The flight left on time and arrived early. By half past four, I was being waved at by Tony and Janice who'd kindly come to collect me. My original plan had been to take a coach and be picked up, late evening, from Huercal Overa bus station, an hour from Mojacar, but anxiety about whether my back would cope with such a journey, when healing nicely after a treatment by Kay on Monday, led me to ask if I could be picked up.

Just after seven, we reached Mojácar. I deposited my bags in the Chaplaincy apartment, and was then taken out to supper at the Mediterraneo beach Restaurant at the other end of town. It was a very pleasant experience with a full view of the sea with an almost full moon, through the dining room window. Then, back to the apartment to unpack and get on line. It was easier said than done unfortunately, as the router was not functionng properly. 

It's a Huwawei 4G hub, designed to link to a carrier signal from a local cellphone mast, and deliver fast-ish broadband to any number of home devices. I discovered that it wasn;t working since it had hit its data cap. Interestingly enough, it has a second 4G PAYG sim for top-up purposes, arranged in a rather convoluted way by phone to the account managment call centre. I may be wrong, but having read the instructions provided about this, the device had the drained PAYG SIM card in it. I found the other SIM, inserted it and immediately had broadband wifi, since the previous months data cap had been replaced by the October allowance. The system had been idle over the week since the previous locum Chaplain left. 

The concept makes sense, but it would be more effective if it was possible to augment the data allowance via a mobile phone. Perhaps you can, but nobody has bothered yet, as there's a different habitual way of getting things to work. It's just a bit disconcerting when arriving in a new place and having to troubleshoot before phoning home and going to bed. Ah well, never mind. It's good to be here again in a familiar place.

Getting ready to travel again

There's been a lot to do this past couple of days, as well as pack my bags ready for my next tour of locum duty in Mojácar. I started yesterday with a hypertension review at the GP surgery, then with a haircut from Stavros my favourite joke telling hairdresser. After lunch, I visited our Osteomyologist Kay, for a back treatment. It was necessary, despite a fair reduction in discomfort these past few days. It's the unseen impact a fall can inflict on bone structure you have to consider, without the necessary corrective measures it can leave you vulnerable, and less flexible than is desirable. I then walked into town to do some banking, and made a visit to the CBS RadioNet office for a catch up session with Ashley and Julie, as CBS set about recruiting a new business crime reduction manager. Needless to say, I was late home for supper.

Today I had another visit to the School of Optometry to collect my new driving glasses, delivered in record time, since my appointment last Friday. It's a pleasure to go there as the team are so pleasant to deal with and superbly organised. Dealing with eyesight issues is a delicate and sensitive affair requiring a great deal of close contact with clients, and much reassurance. This certainly is a centre of excellence Cardiff can be proud of.

It's surprising how many small things escape attention when packing to go away for any length of time. I locked and strapped up my case three times during the evening, as I kept on thinking of things I needed to take with me. This time around I have to take a Windows laptop with me, as there isn't a machine available in the Chaplain's residence. I never go anywhere without my Chromebook, but I'm reluctant to rely on its wireless only network printing routine, it case I have problems with it. Apart from annoying issues with legacy printer drivers, devices running Windows 10 generally hook up to a printer easily and quickly. I took a Windows laptop last year, and will take it again this time around. For the sake of keeping my cabin bag weight down, however, I decided not to take my DSLR camera kit, which is a pity.

I bought a small light Acer Windows 10 device last year, to take with me on occasions like this, but had to give it to Kath to take with her to the USA, as Rhiannon's laptop was not fit for purpose when she brought it to me at the weekend. It's running fine now after a Windows re-install, so Clare can return it for Rhiannon to use when she goes up to Kenilworth to Kath's for the start of their Arizona trip next week. Altogether my case and hand baggage weigh twenty kilos, well within the allowance, and as much as I want to manage, while my back gently recovers for yesterday's vital therapy.

Microsoft mess

Ann and I went to St Catherine's for the Sunday Eucharist today, Clare stayed in bed. Rhiannon and Kath left for Kenilworth just after we left for church. Fr HUw Rhydderch, retired Rector of Dinas Powis took the service, speaking about Harvest and about St Francis' celebration of creation. I think this is the first Sunday this year when I haven't had a service to take. It was a welcome break.

When they arrived last night, I was presented with the laptop I gave to Rhiannon last year to repair. It's suffering from incredible slowness and a tendency to shut down on the job every 15 minutes. The key issue is to establish if this is a hardware or software fault, and the Windows 10 software plays hard to get. There's no doubt the machine has been abused in practice, put into sleep mode, or hibernating due to lack of battery power, either/both occurring while Windows 10 updates the security library, or does a system update. It was 94 days since the device had last successfully installed its anti-virus database, and the list of failed system updates reached back beyond that. 

With so many stop-starts, no wonder the system is always catching up and failing to complete, especially if power settings, arbitrarily tweaked, force it to shut down again mid-stream, even when it's on mains power or has a full battery. This represents a strategic failure in design, refusing to take into account real world use by teenage girls, let alone busy mobile using executives. What a contrast to Google's Chromebook speedy and seamless way of working, regardless of its limitations on file transfer and printer connectivity.

Microsoft has the de facto standard user interface with Windows. It makes everything harder to use for everyday non-technical users than Android, Apple Mac, Chrome or Android user interfaces, and its technical weaknesses make it easier to not use properly day to day, causing system failures, not to mention outright abuse of systemic weaknesses by malware. 

A computer should be as simple and as safe to operate for everyday communications purposes as a phone, a fridge or a washing machine. We're now entering the era of 'smart' domestic devices, and by nature of their computer operating systems, Windows or otherwise, the contain similar vulnerabilities. How amazing our willingness to put up with all these fundamental weaknesses in an effort to keep up with consumer fashion! When will we ever learn?

Kath had intended to borrow Rhiannon's small laptop for travel to USA with Clare to see Rachel in two weeks time. As it's currently not fit for purposes, she asked if I could lend her a small laptop instead. I readily agreed, although I'd intended to take my small Acer with me to Spain next week. It was, however, more of a problem to set up a user area on this machine for Kath to work with, than I had imagined, as Microsoft steadfastly refused to co-operate and implement a suitable file system on the machine with which to sync her existing OneDrive file system. I had to let Kath take the device home with her, and figure out how to complete the process, in order to get it to work, as it should, to her benefit.

There'd be far fewer problems using Linux, but proprietary software is hard to use on a Linux base apart from the amazing wonderful Libre Office, which can match anything MS Office produces.