In at the deep end

There were eight of us for this morning's midweek celebrations of Communion, and all stayed for a lively bible study on last Sunday's Gospel. Four of those present come out regularly from Britain and stay a good while. Unfortunately they'll be leaving this coming week, so the regular group will be smaller next time.

I stayed chatting afterwards for rather too long, and didn't leave myself quite enough time to cook a meal, and then drive at a leisurely pace to Velez Málaga by three for the bible study session there in the Capilla de San Juan. Even so, I was only a couple of minutes late, but taken aback to find the place locked, and nobody else waiting. Had I come to the wrong place? No, Doreen told me when I rang. I was half an hour early. That meant I could go for a walk up the main street in the direction of the old town. It's a town that sprawls down the plain from the ancient settlement below the moorish castle, probably half an hour's walk, and I only had twenty five minutes available. It wasn't all that interesting a street either, but at least I got some brisk exercise.

One noteworthy feature was a couple of buildings belonging to the Guardia Civil, and a roundabout in the middle of the dual carriageway with a bronze statue of a uniformed Guardia officer. It's an armed military police agency, a member of the European Gendarmerie Force, with public protection and criminal investigative powers exercised in rural areas, on the coast and off-shore. It even plays a part in some international peace keeping operations. It provides accommodation for its members and their families. Britain doesn't have an equivalent civil institution.

Outside the Guardia station stands a memorial to officers killed in the line of duty in the form of a simple stone pillar surmounted by a bronze effigy of the characteristic tricornio ceremonial headgear, the equivalent of a British bobby's helmet. It's a curiosity to passing foreigners who know nothing of this aspect of the culture. In fact, there's a lot that's different about policing and public protection in different European countries for any Brit to get their head around, as I am often reminded when I watch Euro-crimmies on TV.

There were eight of us for the bible study group at three thirty. I enjoyed doing this second one, as it was made up entirely of regular congregation members I'd met before, and the conversations were quite different. I'm looking forward to Sunday worship with them again, a week on Sunday.

On the journey back I stopped at the Carrefour hypermarket and shopping centre beside the MA24 motorway linking the A7 Mediterraneo with the N340 coastal highway. I've passed by many times on my previous stays in Malaga, but this was the first time to negotiate the access roads and take a look inside. I just wanted a simple colander for draining veg. I needed light bulbs as well since both the bedroom ceiling fan light have died. I haven't yet been able to remove the cover and check the type of bulb required, but now I can navigate my way to the 'household goods' aisle to find them without losing track of why I'm visiting. So easy to do that in such a vast cathedral of consumerism.

If I'm passing that way it's as easy to call in as it is to walk into the Old Town and hunt for a shop which has the right kind of bulb. There are many more worthwhile distractions to enjoy there than in any shopping mall. That's the trouble.