Nearly late!

After a good nine hours of sleep I woke up just before the alarm again, and was on my way to collect Patricia at nine. Due to my choice of short hymns, we finished by ten to eleven and I was soon on my way to Sotogrande. I'm not sure what went wrong, I made it to the Estepona junction with the A7P and then took a wrong turning so I ended up going back to San Pedro on the toll road unable to turn around, and then setting out on the trip to Sotogrande a second time. 

Last week, I did this route on my own without any trouble. Somehow today I missed a vital sign at the correct junction. Although I set off ten minutes earlier than usual, this error was bound to make me late. I called Patricia and asked her to relay a message to Sotogrande that I'd be late, and resigned myself to the inevitable, having added an extra 45km to my commute. I was astonished to find when I reached my destination that it was only five to twelve, so we started on time anyway. I must try and figure out what I did wrong today, having got it right last week.

Another cloudy humid day with bright sunny spells pushing the temperature up to 31C after lunch, I didn't need a siesta so I completed work on next Thursday's prayer video, and revised the altar copy of text for use at Sotogrande. The two congregations have Eucharist booklet which are not completely the same, and both have too small a typeface to be much help to me, hands free at the altar. Separate large print versions are needed for everything to run without confusion.

Jobs done, I listened to Choral Evensong from Hereford Cathedral on BBC Sounds, lying on the bed in the heat, and inevitably fell asleep. It was nearly sunset by the time I went out for a walk, but it was cooler and more enjoyable walking the sender littoral for an hour. Clare called me on my way back. The signal was strong enough to sustain a WhatsApp call right to the front door, and then the line dropped as the house wi-fi started to compete for attention with the 4G cell signal. That happens in Meadow Street too, though the 4G signal as much poorer as Meadow Street is in the shadow of the BT/EE cell tower in Westgate Street. Nothing's perfect!

Amazon surprise

An overcast day, humid, though with a light breeze. After breakfast I printed off my sermon and the texts for tomorrow's service at Sotogrande. While I was doing this I had a phone call from a lady wanting to arrange a funeral service for her aunt, who died and was cremated ten days ago. Family members were unable to gather for a service then and are proposing a Sunday in September during worship at San Pedro. 

I explained this would be problematic from a timing point of view, but that possibly a service on one of the Sundays when there's only a San Pedro service could be arranged. I explained that it still could be a proper funeral service, as auntie's ashes have not yet been laid to rest, but this could be done formally after the church service, if so desired. It meant offering a couple of dates to choose from for my successor to take a service for the family. I'm trusting this is the right thing to do under the circumstances. A month in between death and burial isn't at all unusual in UK nowadays. Here some civil regulation requires that a body be buried or cremated within three days. Storage ad interim isn't usual, is expensive and requires a dispensation be negotiated.

As I was eating lunch I heard the sound of a large vehicle in the turning circle beyond the back garden of the house. A huge high sided lorry with a crane arm and bucket grab was manouvering to get as near as it could to the containing wall, separating the urbanización from a grove of trees. For the next half hour huge amounts of dead vegetation and branches were scooped up from the other side of the wall and deposited in the lorry. Where this flammable material has been gathered over the past week since the fire, or dumped there previously following clearance work, it's impossible to say. Luckily the west facing hillside of our urbanización didn't catch alight last Tuesday. Somebody with responsibility has got the message and acted wisely to avoid a repeat performance next time the temperature soars.

Instead of a siesta, I went for a walk along the sender littoral. The beach was quieter than usual, perhaps because it was cloudy and humid. While I was out I had a phone call from Amazon in Barcelona, which I assumed was yet another scam call about a parcel I hadn't ordered, although the caller knew my name. I asked how the caller had got my name and number, but the caller disconnected, and I thought nothing more of it. Until I got home. I had a WhatsApp message from Alison, whose wedding I blessed last Saturday to ask if I'd received a parcel. Oops! She'd sent me something via Amazon.

She messaged me in the week, following the fire to see if I was OK and asked if I needed anything. For some odd reason I thought she was churchwarden Andrea, and mentioned that the house was lacking a first aid kit and a sewing kit. Ooops! As I'd mentioned it, she decided to do a surprise Amazon delivery. The trouble is, it arrived while I was out, and that's what the call from Barcelona was all about. The parcel had been left with our regular next door neighbours, and I was able to retrieve it using my best Spanish. I think the house on the other side of us must be hired out through Air Bn'B, as there have been three lots of short stay residents there in the past two weeks. 

Most of this evening I spent on the phone, first with Clare, then with Ashley, with whom I had more than a fortnight's news to catch up on. Then finally, early to bed - just about.

Bull ring like no other

Another comfortably hot day at 29C with a light sea breeze. I collected Patricia at ten thirty to drive to San Pedro for the regular church coffee morning. Interesting to hear of the problems cause for ex-pats by the new post brexit visa rules. People can't stay in homes they own for more than 90 days in any 180, so the idea of coming south for four or five wintery months is ruined unless people apply for residency, which may not always be so easy. Some residents are long term over-stayers without residency, and if they leave the country may not be allowed back in, even to sort out their affairs. Brits have been huge contributors to the Costa economy for the past half century. If new rules get in the way of longer staying visitors, then the coastal economy is going to suffer in the long run. People obliged to return to the UK will find the cost of living that much higher with much larger outlay on energy costs dragging down their standard of living.

I've been corresponding with Emma in HQ about how the new rules impact on locum clergy. It seems you can accumulate in as many trips as you require up to 90 days within 180. Then six months from your first date of entry, the cycle reboots, and you have another 90 days como quiere. It's not totally inflexible, the Schengen website has an inbuilt stay calculator, or there's a smartphone app to help you keep track if your comings and goings are many. Anyway, I'll just have to wait and see what comes up and if it'll be possible to agree to do more. With Clare's eyesight deteriorating and her back problems, the future looks different from the past. 

Having got six meals out of the 500gm piece of frozen beef from the freezer, I decided to cook with chick peas for a change today. I seem to have made enough to last the weekend, with a little tweaking each time. Lunch was later because it was gone one when we returned from San Pedro. After a post-lunch siesta it was gone five. I went for a walk along the sender littoral starting from the rio Guadalbon end. I saw a grey heron fishing in the charco. Shoals of small fish were visible, also some larger ones, plenty of choice for a hunting bird. Tucked in among the reeds the remains of one, possibly two dead birds were visible - the wings of of big grey gull recognisable, but the body of what might have been an egret locked into each other. A turtle was pushing the floating mass around in the water, as if inspecting it. Very curious.

The part of Playa Seghers closed off at the moment has seen pipeline work carried out today, as a large area of sand has been disturbed and pipes stacked on the beach have disappeared, presumably as far under as it's possible to go. No idea what the pipes are for. After walking through the Marina,  I walked up hill and took a look at the area containing old fishermen's cottages, now done up nicely. Not far from this little barrio is the Plaza de Toros, dating from the seventies. Its exterior design isn't in a traditional Spanish style. It's entirely white painted, and the lines of all its walls are smooth flowing curves with a minimum of ironwork embellishment. It was designed by Juan Mora Urbano, the first asymmetric bull ring in the world. The overview shown on the tourism website says it all. It's possible to use the place for a much more varied functions, sports, concerts, exhibitions etc. It's designed to maximise visibility and shade for all spectators. I may be wrong, but it reminds me of some indigenous buildings in the Americas. A great piece of work.

Home then for supper and a chat with Clare before uploading photos and heading for bed,

Old Estepona discovered at last

Today was cooler than yesterday 29C with a gentle breeze from the south. Having posted the link on WhatsApp for today's Morning Prayer before breakfast, afterwards I completed next week's Reflection, recorded it and the Office before lunch. The house was fairly quiet, although I was aware of noises from next door, as another holidaymaking family took up residence.

After a siesta, I walked to the Casco Viejo, a distance of about four and a half kilometres. There's a hill overlooking la Playa de la Rada where the Romans had an octagonal watch tower. This bay was the centre of the fishing industry, where fish caught were salted and dried for preservation, unless they were ground with olive oil into a pesto, regarded as a luxury food item in other part of the empire. On the same site a castle was built during the occupation of the Moors. The ruins of some of its stout walls are still imposing and the streets wrap around them, or lead up the hill to where the  municipal market stands, a post-war town hall, a large school, and a huge clock tower overlooking a square with a bandstand, ready equipped for a concert with rows of plastic chairs.

I didn't know where the Old Town was. It no longer dominates the skyline as it would have done until the holiday resort building boom filled all the low hills and valleys in the coastal plain beneath the huge Sierra Bermeja with high rise dwellings. Now it can't be seen until you reach its narrow streets of whitewashed casitas with iron window grills and balconies, decorated with flowers. Suddenly you're wandering around a typical old Andalusian pueblo blanco, quiet and clean, in refreshing contrast to the stark brutalism of so much of the twentieth century architecture around it. Such a pity it's an hour's walk to get there.

I returned in time for the Archers - yesterday's and today's - and then a light supper. In this hot weather I make sure to drink plenty of liquid, and seem to do well not eating quite as much as I usually do. While I still enjoy a glass of wine, my alcohol tolerance has dropped considerably. Light headedness I can do without. I need all my wits about me, living on my own with work to do. And more sleep too. It comes easily when the weather is warm.

After the fire

It was a little cooler overnight and no further outbreaks of fire but windy all day and I slept late to make up for yesterday's early start. I called Patricia after breakfast to check on her, as she told me yesterday afternoon that fire had reached just behind the police station. It torched a small local community centre, but spread no further as the bomberos isolated the outbreak. She spent three hours out on the pavement ready to leave if required. Rose, another church member in a wheelchair, who lives nearby was evacuated as a precaution, but the fire was contained and the dwellings spared. 

I'd been wondering how the helicopters could be delivering buckets of water every few minutes, but didn't seem to be flying down to the sea. It turns out that in the foothills of the sierra behind Estepona is a golf course and an artificial lake. Patricia's son lives up that way, and had a good view of the helicopters dipping their buckets into the lake. The skill and co-ordination between pilots and teams on the ground is impressive. More fire outbreaks up at Benahavis, fortunately contained quickly.

I worked on my Sunday sermon again late morning, then had a call from Clare who's been to see one of the GPs. She's been told that her squashed spinal disc is related to a cracked vertebra, due to osteoporosis. She'd not been told this before. It means she needs to be careful about how she exercises, though exercise is vital, so as not to increase the stress on the vertebra in question. It's distressing to find this out while I'm away from home, but there's no going back, and she'll need to take extra care when she comes out to join me in three weeks time.

After cooking the remainder of the beef into another cazuelo, I got the recycling and rubbish ready to take down to the bins later in the day, then put a load of washing through the machine. In a strong wind at 30C it dried very quickly. Hanging it out in the heat was like working in front of a furnace.

When it started to cool a little, I took the rubbish down, then walked to the Carrefour supermarket to get some olives, garlic and a bottle of organic wine. After supper as the sun was setting, I walked up the track alongside the arroyo and took photos of the fire damage. There was a burned out car at the far end, and a small holder's house and garden which looked as if it hadn't burned down, saved by having a surrounding wall and patio as much as anything. I couldn't be sure but maybe the vegetable garden survived too, tucked under the retaining wall holding up the autovia. The wind downdraft could have blown the fire away from it.  Certainly the rows of bean sticks weren't scorched, but as for the plants, no idea as it was getting dark.

Almost all the length of the track served as a fire break, except for the two hundred metres before the small holding, which was entirely burned out. At the start of this section, the arroyo crossed the road. It was strange to see the distinct place below which greenery didn't burn, and above which was blackened wasteland. I last walked up there the evening of my arrival, but took few photos, but a recall there being an open field, either covered with grass for grazing animals, or some kind of grain. The fact that the area was more open at this point may well have determined how the wind blew in the space confined by the fifteen metre retaining wall. 

As I was taking photos, a car stopped, curious about me, and we chatted for a few minutes about the destruction. The cumpaneros in the car assumed I was harmless and drove on to visit the man in the small holding. Its windows were boarded up. Broken by the heat of the fire? Or was this done to protect the place when not in use? Or done in haste when the fire started? People here are more used to extreme weather than we are in the UK. The valley reeked of burning and so did I when I returned, Nothing left was hot or smouldering, but the local ecosystem has taken a hit. There were some birds around, thankful for power lines and telegraph wires to perch on. Little cover for them in the bushes or reed beds. Most will have taken refuge elsewhere for the time being, no doubt.

Time for a shower and bed now.

¡Fuego!

I woke up and looked at my phone a minute before the alarm I'd set was due to sound. It's the second time that's happened. I collected Patricia at nine twenty and by half past we parked at the Parque Cementerio Santo Cristo de la Veracruz and already mourners were gathering. The crem has a large covered waiting area with seats and plants, several viewing rooms, and a chapel that will 140 at a guess. It was full. 

There was an order of service hymn sheet for people to join in, and my goodness they did, singing a couple of well known hymns and saying Amen to each prayer with gusto. That's an experience I've not had often in a crematorium service in the past thirty years. Most present were churchgoers or American Club members which meant that many knew each other well and were relaxed enough to express themselves at losing a good friend. 

I had emailed Rosella, who lives above Rincon, two hour's drive from here, and she came! A long standing friend of Lew's and American club member she was keen to make the effort. I missed her after the service, I suspect she went off to an American Club members' wake. The main body of English church members went to Rick's bar restaurant in the Marina. I joined them there for an hour, chatting with several people. The service was much appreciated. I was nervous about getting things right, but once I arrived there I was in my element, and able to give of my best. I was even able to make fair conversation in Spanish with the funeral guys, and be understood. Not that I will ever understand the bureaucracy involved!

After lunch I had a siesta. There was a very hot wind outside but with everything closed the house was relatively cool. About quarter to four I got up and started writing this blog. Then there was a series of loud percussive noises which sounded like a large volume of water being poured from a height. At ten two, I went downstairs to check and discovered the uncultivated hillside on the other side of the valley was on fire! What I was hearing was the sound of fire bursting out in new patches of vegetation. 

I called Patricia to find out the emergency number for the bomberos, but as we spoke the sound of sirens could be heard. The scorching west wind blew down the valley, but the fire went up it, against the wind incinerating about a square kilometre of grass and shrub, right up to the line of the houses on the top of the neighbouring hill. People poured out of their houses, took pictures, talked among themselves, then returned indoors. It was far too hot to stay outside for more than ten minutes. The last hour has been punctuated with the wailing of sirens.

The uphill lane of the autovia was closed off as the flames reached the top of the arroyo valley which it crosses. Then about half past five, a procession of helicopters started arriving with water buckets aiming for critical points in the fire path, augmenting the work of the ground based fire crews. Clouds of white, grey and black smoke rise up from different places along the hillside, but notably in the depth of the valley where the arroyo banks are populated with cane - probably sugar cane given the hint of sweetness on the breeze. Estepona bay was once an area of sugar cane plantations, cane grows wild here and may have been here before industrialisation.

The fire continues to blaze over the other side of the hill from here, behind the Policia Local compound and the urbanizacion beyond it. Patricia called to tell me. It's near where she lives. The prevailing wind has taken the fire away from where I'm staying for now. It'll be 32C tomorrow, but what about the wind?

By a quarter to seven the autovia's uphill lane had re-opened, and the symphony of emergency sirens was drawing to its end, the helicopters had watered the side of the road at the top of the hill where fire was still spreading. Over the brow of the hill is an industrial estate, and the huge Lidl I visited the other day on foot. The fire will not have gone close to the supermarket, but I'm not sure about some  warehouses. There has been a lot of thick black smoke along the brow of the hill. The fire has travelled the other side, and that's now where the helicopters are flying with the precious watery load. It's almost as quiet as usual, after three intense hours of watching and wondering. Which way will the fire go next time?

After a snack supper, it had cooled down enough to venture down the hill and take a few more photos of the scorched landscape. The bomberos were still working dampening down hotspots, taking a chainsaw to some remaining cane verges along the edge of the arroyo that has the un-made road, making a wider fire gap to protect this side of the valley. The fire ground is still cordoned off, including the housing area to which the fire came nearest, from where people had to be evacuated. Diario Sur Estepona reports that 600 people are being re-housed overnight for safety's sake at the Estepona's Palacio de Congresos. The thick black smoke at the brow of the hill was from a commercial storage yard for non-leisure specialised boats. I hope they're insured, or else that's several people's livelihood down the pan.

To get the burning smell from my nostrils, I took a walk along the sender litoral. The hot wind emptied the beach of people and made wavelets along an empty shore. Too hot and windy for paseo y charlar tonight. Helicopters still circulating, keeping the area under observation. The wind dying down could just change direction and fan up hidden embers for a re-match with the bomberos. 

It's been an exceptional experience, this afternoon, witnessing the teamwork between fire crews on the ground and in the air. What a day altogether, in fact.

Start the week housekeeping

Slightly cooler today but quite humid. After breakfast, I worked on my Sunday sermon and then on this Thursday's prayer video, which I finished and uploaded to YouTube before having lunch. Then I went and did my big weekly grocery shopping trip to Mercadona, as it wasn't too hot. Tomorrow afternoon is going to be 35C, time to hunker down. 

Before supper, I walked to the Marina to draw euros from the Santander ATM. The transaction fee is under five euros, but the current exchange rate is £189 for €200, the pound is so weak at the moment. I thought the limit was €300 but wasn't offer that amount, unless I missed it. But never mind, I can cover all my costs one way or another. My travel money card has been useful, and the app on my smartphone worth the memory it occupies.

I hadn't walked my full quota by the time I returned, and decided not to bother, as I was feeling footsore, perhaps due to the humidity. There were document to print out for Lew's funeral, and then early to bed, for a nine fifteen start. Putting out the rubbish and re-cycling can wait until tomorrow evening.

Full Sunday

On Sundays, I need to set an alarm, to make sure I have enough time to be out of the house by nine. This gets me out of bed at sunrise with everything ready to leave on time. Not my usual leisurely start to the day! I collected Patricia from the bus stop near her home and by twenty to ten we arrived at church. Most people already knew about Lew's unexpected death, and naturally needed to talk abut it. 

Just after we'd started Thea's mobile phone rang. She's the sort of person who'd never leave her phone on in church, but since early morning she'd been waiting for a call from the funeral directors about the precise timing of the service on Tuesday. She took the call very quietly. I think many people knew what was going on, and most wanted to know, but we waited until the end to inform everyone that the funeral would be at ten om Tuesday in Estepona's Tanatorium (aka crem.) I made reference to Lew in the sermon, and the lady leading the intercessions was prayed tearfully for Lew, and she wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes, He was much loved.

There were thirty of us in church, including five children. We finished just within the hour and by five past eleven I was on my way to Sotogrande for the midday service, but not before I dropped my reading glasses in the courtyard and both lenses popped out. I couldn't stop to fix them. It was the first time for me to drive the regular route to Sotogrande from San Pedro. It took just under forty minutes. Having done the journey and found the church two days running, the uncertainty about travel timing and finding my way on the last stretch is now alleviated. 

I had no success in fixing my proper glasses when I arrived and had to use my spare pair of cheap specs instead, and they weren't as good as they needed to be for customary reading text at arms length. While Geoff the churchwarden is away for the summer, the church reverts to using hymn books and service sheets, rather than projected slides as inn  San Pedro. This changes things, and I didn't have a complete service text to work from in a decently readable size, and they weren't words I knew by heart, to busk my way through. I got through OK, although I suspect my voice quality dropped when I was obliged to look down to read. It's one of the few times when impaired vision has been a factor undermining my ability to lead a service to my own satisfaction. This won't happen next time. I'll be better prepared.

There were seventeen of us for the Eucharist. Many are on holiday, some are self isolating because of covid contact or illness. A man I spoke to afterwards remembered I'd been a locum priest at St Andrew's Fuengirola, eight years ago, when both Costa del Sol chaplaincies had no priest. He'd been a church warden at the time and approached me to do a couple of wedding blessings down here. I was also asked to take a funeral at Manilva Tanatorio around the same time, but the next of kin lived beyond Málaga, and arranged for the service to take place near where the the deceased had spent her life.

I was back at the house by two, noticing when driving into the urbanización that it's not called 'Beverley Hills', but 'Beverly Hill'. Ooops! There was a lump meat in the freezer, but I couldn't tell what it was until it was defrosted. It turned out to be beef, something I've not eaten in the past three years, if not longer. I diced half of it up and stewed it with some vegetables alubia beans and a glass of Rioja to make my own version of a cazuelo. I was quite pleased at the result.

At four I had a visit from Thea and Patricia, to plan Lew's funeral service. When they took their leave I set about editing together the requisite sets of words, and an MP3 of a slow movement from a Mozart Piano concerto, for exit music. I'm not yet sure how this is all going to work out but one way or another it will. A pity that it's such short notice.

I left it until sunset to walk along the sender litoral, but it was cooler and refreshing after another humid hot day. I caught part of a crimmie on ITV set in the South of France. It's made entirely in English, and this seems so odd, a characterless throwback to long gone decades of movie making. By way of contrast 'The Archers' has gone bi-lingual with the birth of Tom and Natasha's twin daughters. Our Mam has come to stay, and there's Welsh conversation between them, oh so correct, with no borrowed English words, not really that true to life, but so nice to hear on national radio. I bet there's be complaints.

A community bereaved

Patricia called after breakfast this morning, shocked to have just learned that Lew died early this morning. Another member of the congregation had gone to visit him in hospital around nine, only to learn what had happened, and then spread the sad news by WhatsApp. As he had a funeral plan in place, arrangements for cremation are already taking shape, with Tuesday morning in mind. 

Sunday last, Lew led the intercessions at the San Pedro Eucharist, sitting in his place rather than at the lectern. His strength was failing even then, as witnessed by his voice, less deep and resonant than usual. When I heard yesterday that pneumonia was supected, my first thought was the saying I learned in childhood without knowing just what it meant "The pensioner's friend." He's been around on the Costa del Sol for forty years, and very much an Elder of the ex-pat community, so his funeral will be well attended, short notice notwithstanding.

After several days of fruitless hunting, I accidentally came across the chaplaincy's wedding registers, not in the file box marked 'Weddings', but in a 'Pending' file tray. This was such a relief and just in time. After a light lunch, I double checked my kit for the wedding and set off for Sotogrande at half past one. Without any problems I retraced the route taken and memorised earlier in the week and arrived thirty five minutes later, which gave me a good amount of time to arrange and check all things necessary for the celebration. Despite the heat, all went well and we started at ten past three.

We had a duet of violinists playing chosen pieces of classical music during the service. They were loud in a church with resonant acoustics, more than I expected. They seemed not to be used to accompanying congregational hymns or expecting congregational singing to be introduced. I didn't get a chance to brief them as they were busy rehearsing until the wedding couple arrived. I wondered if they had been briefed and wish now that I had. At the end of the service Widor's Toccata was played as a recessional on a powerful piece of hi-fi kit, too loud and too fast - to be endured rather than enjoyed. Quite a good way to drive the congregation out of the building.

Once I'd put furniture back where I found it, and gathered up my possessions to leave, the florists were arriving to bedeck the church for the next wedding at five. By five, I was back at the house receiving a call from Thea about Lew. She'd been to visit him last night, and was distressed by his distress, certain that he was dying wanting her to stay. They talked again by phone at midnight, after she reached home, and he was calm again, at peace with himself. Learning of his death came as a shock, as she thought he was over the worst. And in a sense, he was, his fears faced in the company of a Christian friend, able to let go and be taken from this world. 

I was much moved by what Thea told me. It's not the first time I've heard stories like this. People look out for each other here and care for each other in a natural way. You can't really train for this kind of lay ministry, it's a pastoral gift from the Spirit to those who keep the faith together and love each other. I've stopped worrying about the future of the church with declining numbers of clergy. Somehow that will sort itself out in the period of agonising change endured nowadays. Baptized members of the body of Christ will continue to exercise pastoral ministries among themselves, sometimes without realising they are doing so. But they still need to be told how the Good News is working itself out through their self effacing efforts.

After supper as the sun was setting I walked along the beach. For the first time in the 'charco' at the mouth of the rio Guadolbón, I saw half a dozen turtles and some fish. I've seen them in similar settings in Fuengirola, Málaga, Mojácar and Costa Azahar over the years. It's wonderful the waters aren't so polluted with agricultural products that they no longer sustain life. Perhaps it's something to do with the mountainous terrain that produces these rivers.

I completed my Sunday sermon and printed it off a couple of days ago, but in the light of Lew's death I thought I could make a few changes with out making it much longer, so I've weaved a brief tribute into a sermon about the Lord's Prayer.

The fishing side of Estepona port

Clear skies again today with the temperature rising to 30C, but thankfully no higher. After breakfast I took the A7 to San Pedro for the CAMEO coffee morning, identifying correctly the junction, but anticipating wrongly the turn-off in a momentary memory lapse. This let to a diversion along the road to Benahavis and back to joint the ten minute traffic queue to get back on the A7 for the last half kilometre. Not that it made me very late. 

There were eight others sitting outside the Cafe Tradicional when I arrived, and I chatted with some of them until midday when the group dispersed. One of the women I spoke with told me about her work as an art teacher on board SAGA cruise ships. It seems some of her clients are, as she put it "regular serial cruisers", for whom painting classes are part of the pleasure of travel. She added that some only paint on a cruise and not at home.

Patricia wasn't with me this morning as she was attending a local funeral at which a locum Anglican priest from Malaga officiated. It seems the F.D. didn't know of my arrival, Just as well, as I'm still finding my way around. Lew was also meant to attend the funeral, but was taken into hospital first thing this morning, having collapsed with a chest infection. I thought he sounded a bit chesty in the car or Sunday, but this is a real concern. Patricia will find out if visitors are permitted and then we can arrange a visit.

On the journey back I mis-read a sign at a roundabout and took yet another early turning, but fortunately it led immediately to another roundabout, allowing me to backtrack and correct my course. As it's a regular journey, it shouldn't take me long to get used to it. The next memory challenge will be the drive down to Sotogrande for tomorrow's wedding blessing. I'll take plenty of time, just in case.

After lunch I had a siesta. It was hot enough to avoid going out. By six thirty it was starting to cool down so I walked to the beach on the east side of the port lighthouse, There's several kilometres of palm tree lined promenade here behind a flat foreshore of golden sand, called la playa de la Rada. Before it, there's the working side of the port with purpose built storage facilities for commercial fishermen whose small craft are moored in this side of the harbour. Sixty five are registered as operating from here. These facilities are called 'cuartos' literally 'rooms'. There are about thirty of them. 

Also there's an ice factory, some larger workshops and a restaurant that looks like it caters for the work force. This complex of buildings looks as if it's been upgraded in the past twenty years, The area above and behind it is currently undergoing a major redevelopment, with a high rise building at its centre. The work has led to closure of the coast road as where it runs parallel to the beach. There doesn't seem to be a marked diversion route so it's much resented by locals. I think it's going to be some kind of municipal complex of buildings when it's finished, but it's already late due to covid. A never ending story!

I didn't walk far along La Rada before turning back, as it was getting late. I returned through the length of the port and the huge parking lot beyond it, serving the popular Playa del Cristo before climbing up to the road that runs to Beverley Hills.

Fish soup for supper with remaining chunk of frozen hake cooked into it with some rice. A great way to rehydrate after a long evening walk. Then some more preparatory work on tomorrow's wedding before turning in for the night.

Hello Archie

For the first time in my stay here the sky was full of clouds blown about by the, even before sunrise. It's definitely cooler today, though humid, rising from 26C to 29C. I posted my YouTube prayer link to the Parish WhatsApp group before Thought for the Day, in which Michael Banner gave an excellent biblical reflection on the current news concern about institutional neglect of women's health issues in a medical culture still male dominated. He used the story of Jesus and the woman with the issue of blood to great effect. All in three minutes!

Since I've been here, I've had several encounters with cockroaches. I succeeded in killing two but another two escaped. Or maybe it was the same one. The first time I saw one here, my automatic response was to say 'Hello Archie' - instantly, I time-travelled back sixty years. Helen, my sixth form girl friend introduced me to a book by American journalist Don Marquis called 'Archie and Mehitabel. Archie is a philosophical cockroach. Mehitabel, an alley cat in her ninth life. The book is a funny poetic rendering of conversations between them published in the early decades of the 20th century in the New York Evening Sun newspaper. I can't remember when I last thought about that thought provoking read from my adolescent intellectual awakening.

This morning I came down into the lounge to find a dead cockroach on the marble floor surrounded by a myriad of tiny ants devouring the remains. I've had encounters with the ants as well. They're in the carpet and armchairs. Impossible to get rid of them all. After breakfast, I found several spray cans of insecticide and used a small amount sparingly to find out if it would make much difference in the next few days. I dislike the smell. It persists even when windows are open.

I received an email this morning containing an updated car insurance certificate to print out and keeping in the car. I had to supply my driving license details as far back as 17th May, so well organised is the chaplaincy treasurer, but it's taken two months for the company to deliver. Just as well I've not been stopped and had to explain myself, although I suspect such slowness to deliver isn't unusual! 

Last week, I recorded the audio for today's video upload in the chaplain's office. It wasn't ideal with the distant roar of the A7 hard to muffle with windows closed, shutters down and curtains closed. Today, I had time to check out all the rooms in the house for quietness, and was pleased to find that the master bedroom with shutters down, windows and curtains closed was best of all as an improvised studio with pillows to shield the digital recorder. This made for easy recording. Editing the audio files together was straightforward and finished done before lunch 

I cooked some pieces of chicken breast to add to the veggie sauce made yesterday. This went down well with rice. Cooking something basic and adding to it second time around gives variety to my daily fare and allows me to experiment with different flavours - first day Spanish or Italian, second day curry etc. 

While it was too hot to go out before five, I siesta'd for an hour rather than work. Then I walked up the lane alongside the dried up bed of the arroyo, at the base of the hill on which this urbanizacion stands. It's lined for as far as one ca walk, about 750m with tall reeds. A few small holdings and allotments rise up from the west bank, but the steeper east bank is uncultivated. The track up the valley follows the uphill line of the autovia then stops abruptly. I suspect that outside summer water flows in the arroyo. It made me curious about where it flows out into the sea, so I went down to the sender litoral to find out. 

Piece by piece, a picture is emerging of what local geography was like before the Costa holiday building industry got going. It's amazing that despite the high rise concrete and paving, there are still small patches of wildness, and a remarkable number of birds - martins, swallows and swifts, plus hordes of sparrows, though apart from gulls, I've seen no sea shore birds yet. Walking out as the sun goes down, the air is often thick with passerines hunting for insects on the wing, oblivious to the proximity of humans taking their evening paseo. It's a wonderful moment. I wish I could capture it on video.

The sky cleared of clouds as evening progressed and the temperature dropped to 25C, but the humidity remains. It's tiring. Sleeping tonight may well be uncomfortable.

Bye Boris?

Slightly cooler overnight. I slept well anyway. The hottest part of the day passed, washing and drying a few clothes, working on next Thursday's Daily Office Reflection, after receiving Ruth's weekly Morning Prayer text email. Again I cooked two days worth of a main dish to have with rice. This works well, as scaling down to cooking a one-off portion is not something I'm good at. Cooking for two saves work also. 

It was tea time before I ventured out in search of a pharmacy, or at least somewhere selling antiseptic and shampoo, both of which I was running low on. There's a sign for a Farmacia near the Policia Locale on the main road, but I couldn't find the building and walked on as far as the Marina roundabout, where I saw a signs for a Carrefour supermarket, plus a Farmacia up the hill behind the main road. 

The Carrefour was tucked away, not very visible in the townscape until you got close, but it turned out to be a reasonable size, like Tesco Metro, or the main Co-op in Canton, except this one is at ground floor level in an apartment block with is own parking lot and plenty of parking outside on the side-street as well. Easy access for car drivers, which may explain why I've seen few people walking, carrying shopping bags from there. Here I was able to buy both things I needed and didn't bother to look for the Farmacia.

When I got back I listened to news about the Tory leadership election with Rishi Sunak and Liz Truss as the MPs nominee for voting on by party membership around the country. In their different ways they'll ensure the country will be governed by centre right policies, though it's unclear how this will work out for them, any more than it did for Boris Johnson. Today he performed his final parliamentary question time session as Prime Minister, boasting his achievements, immune to criticism and unapologetic for his moral failings and mistakes. He bowed out defiantly quoting Schwarzenegger's Terminator often quoted line. 'I'll be back.' But will, he if Uxbridge votes him out at the next general election? That day cannot come soon enough, in my  opinion.

After supper, and a chat with Clare, I walked down to the beach and back as the sun was setting joining all the others making their paseo in the cool of the evening. And so to bed.

Unusual dedications

Another tolerable night for sleeping, though today has been a bit more humid at 29C, like yesterday, and about the same as Cardiff. Record breaking temperatures in parts of Britain, with some serious outbreaks of fire and rail network problems, as predicted. It seems UK infrastructure is designed to function up to an average 35C, but above that, there's trouble with rails buckling and overhead power cable supplying trains loosening and un-suspending themselves. Apparently countries with hotter and colder average temperature are engineered to withstand different extremes.

I met with Patricia at eleven, and she guided me down the A7 to the beach resort of Sabinillas, or to use its proper name, St Luis de Sabinillas, and the parish church is dedicated in his honour. St Luis was a saintly 13th century king of France, French and Spanish monarchies were inter-related in those days, which may explain the dedication. 

Talking of unusual dedications, the church in Sotogrande is dedicated in honour of Nuestra Señora de las Mercedes - Our Lady of Mercies, a title which first came into use in the 13th century when a new 'Order of Mercies' was founded in same spirit as St Francis, dedicated to rescuing Christians captured by the Moors, but moving on post-reconquista to serving poor people in general. It's a dedication which is well known in Latin American countries though with work of Spanish missionaries.

More curious is the dedication of the church Anglicans use in San Pedro - not the  parish church of that name but the church of Nuestra Señora del Rocío. 'Rocío' means mist or dew.The dedication goes back to the 13th century discovery by a hunter of an image of the virgin in a wood near the Andalucian village of Almonte in the province of Huelva. The wood was shrouded in mist which remained until he performed a vow to establish a shrine for the image in that place. The region is gitano heartland, and devotion to Nuestra Señora del Rocío is part of their culture. There's an annual pilgrimage procession of gitano clans to Almonte for devotions and a week of fiestas around the feast of Pentecost. Pope John Paul II thought it wasn't much more than a big religious picnic, as many of its ritual embellishments seem to derive from pagan folklore. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! 

Six of us met at the American Bistro on the sea front. We had to use an underground car park, as all the on-street parking was taken, but for €1.50 it was worth it to return to a cool car after an hour of siting outdoors, though we were under a big canopy, the increased humidity made it feel hotter.

We stopped briefly at the big Mercadona on the way back as Patricia needed groceries and I needed to get the razor blades which I forgot to buy yesterday. I also found where the soya dairy products were stored got some milk and yoghourt. I'm well supplied now. To make my culinary day complete Patricia donated her garlic press to the chaplain's kitchen. It was the only essential that was lacking to my mind! She said she no longer used one since discovering frozen garlic and chopped onions in the supermarket. What will they think of next? 

After lunch, I worked on my side of preparations for Saturday's wedding. As I was leaving for a beach walk late afternoon, a car pulled up with a young family and their suitcases, taking over from the couple next door who left yesterday, unless they are related in some way, number twenty nine may be a holiday home to let. I hope I can test my conversational skills and find out in due course.

After catching up on the UK news and 'The Archers', with a brief call to Clare, with nothing of interest on telly, it was tired enough and ready to turn in for the night,

Acclimatizing

Awake at first light again today, but I didn't get up early, with no pressure to be out of the house and on the move. I'm finding my equilibrium, learning by trial and error what activity level is sustainable in the heat. Strange to think that at 29-31C here, it's a hot as Cardiff, but not quite so hard to cope with, thanks to a sea breeze. Reporting on dangerously hot weather in Britain is pushing the Tory leadership race into second place in the news. After breakfast, I spent the morning drafting my sermon for next Sunday, then made lunch before venturing out in the car down the A7 to Mercadona with a proper shopping list. 

Unfortunately I forgot to install the reflective sun shield to cover the windscreen. The car, in direct sunlight was searingly hot, the steering wheel and gear stick almost too hot to touch. The air-con couldn't cope  well enough to reduce the internal temperature, so it was an uncomfortable ten minute ride. Stepping into an air conditioned supermarket was like stepping into a fridge! At two in the afternoon, it was quite busy, I overheard conversations in Italian, French, Dutch as well as English and Spanish. Announcements in-store are in Spanish and English, reflecting the size of the English speaking ex-pat residents, as well as holiday visitors. 

I think the couple in the house next door must have finished their holiday and departed this afternoon, as I saw the man loading the car with bags of stuff for recycling beforehand. This prompted me to do the same, except that I could carry my week's worth of bottles cans and paper down the hill to the recycling station just inside the main entrance of the urbanizacion. It had cooled just enough to be comfortable exercise. Then I chatted with Clare and my sister, to check they were OK in the heat, I waited to go out for a proper walk until after supper, just after sunset. I walked to and fro along the sender litoral, and partially along the almost empty beach enjoying the hour and the small groups of people stood chatting in the warm twilight air. 

San Pedro Sunday initiation

I set an alarm on my phone last night for seven, but woke up just before it at first light. I wanted some new sunrise photos and during breakfast, popped outside the front door to check progress on the position of the rising sun in relation to the house. The house, it turns out is orientated north-south so the sun came above the hill due east of me at seven thirty four, so I got some pictures I can make use of, in my weekly prayer video.

I met Patricia at our agreed rendezvous at nine, we collected Lew just after, and drove to the church at San Pedro, where a small group were already preparing the chapel for worship. It's in the basement of a large community hall, but rarely used by the Catholic parish. I think its dedicated to St Mary of the Angels to judge from the particular iconography of the sculpture behind the altar. The basement area is shared with a large room with several columbarium walls for cremated remains. All very understated and discreet. This seems to be a contemporary feature of urban churches in Spain, where ground space for a conventional cimenterio is at a premium. It's only really since Vatican II that cremation has become widely embraced in Catholic cultures. The Anglican congregation in Benalmadena uses a chapel similar arranged beneath the nave of the church.

We were twenty five adults and four children at the Eucharist. Instead of booklets, hymn sheets or books, a Powerpoint presentation of all the texts was displayed on a screen behind me at the altar, with a monitor for me to read from for the Eucharistic prayers. People seem reasonably happy with it, except those who miss using books. but the screen ruins the aesthetic element of the liturgical environment, which I hate.

I was reproached by people sitting at the back for not speaking loud enough. I thought I could hear my projected voice bounding back from the end wall, but afterwards found out there's only one loudspeaker and it's quite near the front. Also the microphone is very directional and needs to be closer that is really comfortable to work with. Next week I'll have to work out how exactly to be audible for people sitting in back. The children sit to do their Sunday school activity in a recess at the back, and if they are noisy even slightly it will impair audibility for those nearest. So it's vital to get this right for everyone's sake.

After the service a dozen of us drank coffee at the same place we met on Friday, before setting out for Beverley Hills. There was half an hour to spare before Patricia and I needed to set off for the wedding rehearsal in Sotogrande. I took her home and returned to make a quick lunch for myself, with Caldo de Pez, that had rice and frozen green peas cooked into it along with two slices of merluza which I thawed out overnight. It was ready in twenty minutes and eaten in ten. Then I was back on the road.

I was 35 minutes on the A7P toll road to Sotogrande. The car is fitted with a digital device which opens the toll barrier autmatically and charges a special church account - superbly convenient! Sotogrande is a purpose built holiday village by the sea, an American style gated environment, beautifully landscaped with a well maintained road system of its own. Once we entered we saw a few cars, but nobody walking at all. It was strangely deserted. 

Roz, one of the church members and a keyholder met us and opened up for us. The bridal party was half an hour late owing to problems exiting a subterranean parking lot near the beach, but it gave a chance to look around and work out how the conduct the service. Roz and Alison, who's getting married live next door to each other, so we were left with keys and instructions about locking up and setting the security system on leaving. The church is not in an easy place to find despite efforts to provide signage from the main routes through the road complex. A church wasn't part of the original social design of the village, and was added in later on a piece of spare land, at the expense of one wealthy patron who thought the village should have a church. It's in a lovely setting of trees and bushes, with a St Francis statue near the west entrance, Genesis 1 themed stained glass side windows, and a huge dome over the altar. A great concert venue, but too much acoustic reverb to good for liturgy despite the spaciousness of the building. It'll be challenging to made it work well for a wedding, like to=he main parish church in Nerja.

I was back home again by four, and soon chatting to Clare, languishing in the heat, just like me. I went out at seven for a walk, all the way from the rio Guadalgobon to the marina, and did a small amount of shopping at the Supercor market there. I also discovered the Santander ATM nearby which Patricia told me about. This means I don't have to go very far to withdraw cash from my account with no transaction fees, one of the benefits of having an account with a European bank.

I was ready for supper when I returned, and watched 'Antiques Roadshow' from Bodnant House and Gardens in North Wales, an outstanding National Trust site. We must visit there next time we holiday up North. One way or another that was a pretty full day - until next Sunday, when I'll have to drive between two services within a tight time frame.

Change of habit

The night was just cool enough for comfortable sleep, but by lunchtime it had risen to 32 C, not as hot as some parts of Britain, nor the top of the Sierra de Mijas, which is on fire at the moment, Thousands have been evacuated from homes at the edge of  Alhaurin el Torre and Alhaurin el Grande where I took services in the cemetery chapel when on locum duty in the Costa del Sol East Chaplaincy eight years ago. I wonder if there'll be a service there tomorrow afternoon?

I didn't do very much apart from cook lunch and answer a few messages and talk with Clare on WhatsApp. I didn't go out until gone five when it started cooling down. Determined to get the hang of the town's geography and layout, I walked inland from the Marina on a different road leading out of town, and eventually found the Lidl supermarket at the back of a hill looking inland across the valley to the sierras. 

Google maps was very misleading and took me out of my way. I don't know why. Maybe its geolocation device simply isn't so accurate in streets which are dominated by a mix of tall residential buildings. Everything seems to have been constructed in the past forty years and to my mind is rather characterless, despite efforts made to introduce trees and greenery on odd parcels of land in between buildings. It's like a piece of urban America transplanted to Spain's coast.

The walk involved some hill climbing on hot barren pavements with intermittent shade, demanding but worthwhile exercise as long as you drink plenty to compensate. While I was having supper, Ashley rang, curious to know how I was coping. I watched S4C's coverage of the Llangollen International Eisteddfod, and got everything ready for tomorrow, as I must be out of the house by nine. So, early to bed it must be. Glad I watched all BBC Four's Norwegian crimmie on catch-up last week. It's on an hour later here and there'll be no late night telly for me while I'm here.

Fiery judgement

I woke up earlier this morning, needing to get going earlier, out of the house by five to ten, to collect Patricia, and Lew another church member, to drive to San Pedro for a coffee morning at at place near the church called 'Café Tradicional'. About ten turned up altogether and occupied a couple of pavement tables for a chatty hour catching up on each other's news and taking an interest in each other's welfare. It's important, as many of those gathered are older single people. It's nice to see. The group is called CAMEO - standing for 'Come and meet each other' - clever! I think I have memorised most of the half hour journey on the A7. Only the last half mile through back streets is a bit tricky to recall, but Patricia will accompany me again on Sunday, when we have a nine o'clock start! 

The temperature rose to 33C at one. Even hotter inland, and in the UK apparently, thanks to climate change. I made lunch and spent the afternoon completing, and then trying to print out my Sunday sermon. I couldn't get the wifi printer to work with the slow old office laptop, nor with the wired USB link. It again asked me for pass codes I didn't have, and I tried all sorts of four number codes from the router label, to no avail. I messaged Jean to seek expert help, but nobody's around to consult right now. I had another go with my own laptop using the USB cable, and this time I tried, the device auto installed the software drivers, and it started printing at last. Such a relief!

By six it was cooling down. I walked to the supermarket in the Marina to buy some veggies, a chorizo and a bottle of light vino joven. I only had four kilos in my backpack, but the extra weight punished my feet. Good exercise climbing uphill the last 300 metres however. I'm amazed I can do it without stopping, hardly getting breathless and recovering quickly. I get as sweaty as being in a gym, but warm weather open air exercise does me good. Clare and I chatted on the 'phone before the Archers. Her back is still giving her trouble. The aching discomfort is making her very tired.

After a salad supper, I listened to the last half hour of Verdi's Requiem, broadcast from the first night of the BBC Proms at the Albert Hall. Magnificent music and timely evocative ancient liturgical poetry, speaking of the Last Judgement of the earth and humankind - by fire.

The empty quarter

The sky was less hazy when I woke up and the early sun lit up the coast down towards Gibraltar, with the rocky promontory sticking out of a distinct layer of low level cloud. I uploaded today's link to Morning Prayer and after breakfast recorded next weeks Office and reflection. A fair morning's work, although the proximity of the A7, not to mention neighbours chatting in the parking lot outside, made it harder to get a clean recording than at home. Except right now, builders are working next door and noise is unavoidable eight to five. Clare says the house has been gutted as well as the back garden. Everything, doors, radiators, pipe, floorboards china has been taken out and dispatched in a couple of skips. So I'm in the right place at the right time!

After lunch, I spent the afternoon preparing for the visit of Karol and Alison, whose wedding blessing I'll be celebrating a week Saturday in Sotogrande. I found an edited text to work with in my digital archive, suitable for the occasion, but came to grief trying to print it out. The multi-function printer is a wifi device, identified by my laptop, but inaccessible as it required a security PIN number to complete the process to complete setup, and this I couldn't find.

The workaround solution was to save the file on to a SD card and transfer it to the office computer, which dates from 2010, and may be older. It's very slow running Windows ten, and needed updating, as seldom used computers in chaplaincy vacancies generally seem to do, Like me, others bring their own devices to work on. Many use phone or tablet to read text and may not need to attach their device to a printer in the first place. For me, large print on paper requires no battery to be legible. End of story. 

There was a version of MS Office 2010 on the office laptop, but it didn't work as it was considered as an unregistered app by the operating system. So I downloaded and installed Libre Office which took half an hour. My document transferred loaded fine but refused to print, despite being attached physically by USB cable to the printer. Nothing I could change in the printer's configuration menu would change its mind. The clock was ticking for Karol and Alison's arrival. As a last resort, I unplugged the USB cable and pressed print. Hey presto! The wifi link worked as designed and printed the wedding document.

I had a good briefing session about their wedding with Karol and Alison, both marrying for the second time with children old enough to take part in the ceremony. It will be a family service in a special way for all of them. I arranged with them and Patricia for a rendezvous in Sotogrande church this Sunday at two, after the Methodist service there is finished. It'll give me a chance to learn the route for the twenty mile journey from Beverley Hills, the day before my first Sunday on duty there.

After we parted company I walked along the coast road beyond the marina and into the central area of the town. There's a huge municipal construction site blocking off the road to the frustration of motorists but I turned inland trying to identify where the central business and retail district was located, but failed to find anything resembling this. I was astonished by the dearth of small shops and markets, let alone supermarkets in this central zone, Restaurants yes, no banks or other agencies visible. Was I looking in the wrong place? I found two streets of one storey modernised fishermens' cottages. No corner shops. 

I walked uphill inland several blocks and eventually came across a 'Dia' supermarket. The Mercadona branches were further out again. There may have been no more than a small fishing hamlet here until Franco's grand plan for the Costa del Viento re-branded it as the Costa del Sol. Town planning focussed on accommodation for visitors and holiday service industries not on enabling neighbourhoods to evolve, socially and commercially. This is speculation on my part. I'd love to find out more. But where to start in decoding this town planner's 'utopia' where normal life without a car must be a nightmare. Finally I spotted at town bus on the route back to Beverly Hills - almost disguised in slate grey livery. Trendy or what?

The only thing I lacked was Flora margarine, but I bought some olive oil and a couple of cheap cans of beer, one of which I drank on the way back, as I was flagging having walked nearly two hours. It wasn't too hot thankfully, but I was tired and hungry when I got back, and really enjoyed eating a simple meal of bread, olives, tomato and a tiny tin of tuna for supper, before turning in.

Settling in

 I slept quite well after yesterday's travelling. It's not terribly humid so warm nights I find relaxing. There were several food items I needed to go shopping for, so I walked towards the town centre, for half an hour, further than I did yesterday, until I reached the Marina, with its lighthouse and boat yard, rammed with expensive leisure craft, surrounded by white buildings whose edges are trimmed in blue. None of the buildings seem old, not surprisingly, as much of the Costa del Sol tourism development got going in the sixties. There are a wide range of quayside restaurants with a terrace level housing restaurants above them. Spoilt for choice! 

There's also a modestly sized El Corte Ingles supermarket, and I was able to get what I needed here, no need to walk further. I tried out the tap and pay facility of my Post Office Money card and was relieved to find it worked, and that the smartphone app accessing the account worked efficiently too. Then, back home to make lunch. Two defrosted slices of merluza (hake) to go with the other half of the pasta dish I cooked yesterday.

I arranged for a wedding blessing preparation session here at the house for tomorrow afternoon, and now need to arrange a visit to Sotogrande church next week to let the bridal party to walk through their moves. I also started writing next week's biblical reflection to include a little about San Pedro de Alcantara as an inspirer of change in the church in 16th century Spain.

When it had cooled down enough, I walked to the top of a neighbouring hilltop urbanizacion to check out the view and saw a paraglider circulating offshore prior to landing. The environment around here seems to have many house martins, maybe swallows too, plus the ubiquitous starlings, though I've not seen them murmurating in large numbers yet. Then I walked down to the sender littoral, having found another point of access. Much of the path is nicely paved and there are newish wooden bridges, but in other places this is not so, due to sea erosion. When I spoke with Patricia about this she said that in the eight years she's lived here, she's noticed the impact of climate change on how far in the sea washes when the tide and winds combine.

At one point along the path a large stream not yet dried out enters the beach and forms a charco in the sand, though it's not as well established with a sand bar as ones I recall in Mojacar and Alcanar, but the forest of reeds on each bank is likely to be home to all kinds of bird life. The way off the west end section of beach goes past a holiday village called 'The Island' whose entrance road is just below the Shell filling station at the roundabout on the A7. Although not pleasant it did save me having to double back a kilometre retrace my steps, as the path comes out close to the entrance to urb, Beverley Hills.

I watched some of the news on the house telly - kitted out to show UK Freeview stations. I'm not sure how to access Spanish telly, and while settling in don't have much time for much watching anyway. So many new things to take in, and photos to take.

Destination Estepona

I was up breakfasting at five fifteen. Richard arrived at ten to six to take me to the airport. So did a taxi, whose robotic calling system I fell foul of last night. It took my address, but not my destination, and did not confirm the pick up time. If only it had, I could have spared Richard this extra early morning errand. I explained to the taxi driver what had happened and asked if he would give feedback to the company's call handlers about their robot. By half past six I was waiting in the airport for the check-in desk to open, which it did, half an hour earlier than the time printed on the boarding pass. By just after seven I settled down for the long wait until boarding was announced at five to nine. The flight took off on time and landed twenty minutes early. What a great start to the day!

My passport was stamped for this first time in decades. The stamp is illegible, but apparently serves to flag up the fact that I have entered a EU country. My passport was scanned and the electronic date stamp entered in the system, on arriving and leaving showing how many of the ninety days allowed to stay without a visa in a hundred and eighty days have elapsed. Clever, but sad. Damned brexit.

Joseph and Anne greeted me at the arrival gate and took me to the Chaplain's residence in an urbanizacion named 'Beverley Hills', apt for a hilltop cluster of houses in an area where, like America, little walking is done and most people get around by car. Patricia welcomed me and briefed me about the house. The only food lacking in well stocked cupboards was bread, fresh fruit and veg, so Patricia guided me down the A7 expressway a couple of kilometres to shop at the most convenient Mercadona. The car, a Renault Megane is modern enough to have an electronic key system, which took some getting used to, plus the fact that it's somewhat bigger than a VW Polo. All part of the adventure.

Patricia left me for a tea-time cita, then I unpacked my laptop and completed this Thursday's Morning Prayer video with a selfie taken on the bedroom balcony, overlooking Estepona Bay, with Gibraltar on the near horizon and Morocco somewhat more distant, neither of them visible with the heat haze at the moment. Then I cooked a veggie pasta supper, making enough for two days. Afterwards I went for a walk and discovered that from the bottom of the hill entrance to the urbanizacion it's only ten minutes to the coastal sendero along a sandy shore. I also followed a path alongside a dry river bed inland, up a valley at the base of the hill. It doesn't take long to get away from roads and the built up area into the countryside..

I returned to the house at dusk, had a WhatsApp call with Clare, then unpacked, finally ready to slow down and sleep.

Travel panic

I woke up this morning to the sound of the builders starting work on number 11, vacant now for a year and needing renovation. It was finally bought by a developer hoping to make money from a loft conversion and a rebuild of the utility room at the back where the drain was found to have collapsed. Two young men with a chainsaw started by destroying climbing plants covering the garden wall and reducing the magnolia to a tree stump. Gone is a blackbird's nesting habitat and refuge for the flock of sparrows which have been much in evidence lately. Only last night we watched a mother and youngsters foraging in the bushes on our side of the wall.

Much of the morning was spent packing my bags properly, making sure they were within the weight limit, and printing off paper documents, including boarding pass, to back up the digital ones. We had a message to say the car was ready to collect, so I made my way to Splott by bus and on foot to retrieve it and was lucky enough to get a parking place outside the house for Clare's convenience, when I got back. Next door's utility room had been demolished while I was away for just an hour, and the detritus piled high in the tiny front garden of number eleven. Assuming a skip was ordered by the foreman, it didn't arrive. It looks terrible.

I cooked lunch and then went for a walk in the park. Inevitably there were more things I needed to pack and more re-arrangement of bag contents, but in the end, all was well. Unfortunately when I rang for a taxi I was told that all the firm's early slots were taken. I tried two other firms which had robotic answering services which I found impossible to engage with properly, and both concluded by referring me to their mobile app. I was utterly shocked and very distressed by this, and in the end I phoned Richard Hill, one of  St German's Churchwardens, and he agreed to take me. Early, he said wasn't a problem as his partner goes to Penarth to join others for an early swim and her rendezvous is at half past five! I couldn't believe my good fortune. The problem we early trains is that one can never be too sure of their reliability, as there can be maintenance work undertaken overnight that can sabotage the regularity of the timetable.

Thanks to Richard, I can sleep soundly tonight. What a good friend!

Left in Limbo

With the car in for MOT, I had to leave for St German's before ten this morning, to look for a bus to take me into town. When I reached the junction of Romilly Road and Llandaff road, I could see a 61 waiting behind a car for the lights to change. I took off and ran the hundred yards to the next stop at the Methodist Church, and was there before it arrived. It dropped me off in Wood Street at ten past ten, and then I walked the rest of the way, arriving at church just after half past ten. It was bright and sunny with a cool breeze, a perfect summer morning to rejoice in. The church was filled with bright sunlight and clouds of incense. It was a lovely celebration. The congregation say they'll miss me, but I'll miss them all as well. It's been a place of refuge and great comfort to me since I retired.

I had a lift home with Fr Malcolm, and arrived at the usual time which surprised Clare, who was expecting me to be late returning. After lunch, I revived my Post Office Money Card with some Euros, and loaded the app on my phone, all of which was easier than I imagined, and drew some more sterling from the bank to pay for my airport taxi. All I need to do tomorrow is acquire Euros in cash. A trial packing of my new travel bags hasn't presented any problems, so I'm nearly ready to go. 

After her siesta I helped Clare navigate through the on-line check-in procedure to get her flight boarding pass. Even though it's a month away, she already had a seat booked, so this was possible. Then I took her to the location of the veggie bag drop-off depot, as she's not had to collect from the new site before.

I continued watching remaining episodes of 'Trom' on BBC iPlayer during the evening. It reached a fair conclusion, then there was a surprise cliff hanger ending, which means a second series is proposed, but there's no indication of whether this has been made yet, let alone launched in Denmark. The first six episodes were made this year, so disappointingly we're left in narrative limbo.

There's no shortage of MPs promoting themselves as a future Tory Prime Minister even before electoral rules governing the contest are officially announced. If only they realised how silly they all look.

Airport shuttle demise

Another warm blue sky sunny day, getting me ready for Spain, and  time to start gathering the necessary equipment and apparel in one place to take with me. Not having hold baggage on this trip creates problems, as scissors, pen knives and other sharp objects are banned from cabin bags, as well as volumes of liquid larger than 100ml. That's something I hadn't foreseen.

I was disappointed and disturbed yesterday when I enquired, to find that the thrice hourly T9 airport shuttle service stopped due to covid and hasn't resumed. You can get there by an hourly country bus which takes twice as long as the shuttle, or take an hourly train to Rhoose, the nearest station with a connecting shuttle bus to the airport. This leaves at twenty to seven or twenty to six to avoid long queues at check-in and security clearance. I think I'll take a taxi instead, much more costly, but reliable.

We had waffles for breakfast. Clare bought some rape seed oil for anointing the interior of the waffle iron. This prevents waffles from sticking as they cook. It was a great success. Kath and Rhiannon left after breakfast, as Kath is booked on a Zoom training session this afternoon. It was lovely to hear from her about their thirtieth wedding anniversary stay in Sta Pola and her trip to Madeira as well. She and Anto are enjoying getting around quite a lot this summer after a really demanding year of touring the 'Squidge' performance. They deserve the respite.

I finished and printed tomorrow's sermon and made a start on next Sunday's, in case the week is extra busy getting used to being in Estepona and finding my way around. Morning Prayer is almost complete, although I do want to add in a few photos of my new domestic environment for interest, so uploading the finished product has to wait until I'm there.

After lunch I called in for a chat with Nick and Emma, only to discover that both have covid. We had a socially distanced, masked chat, standing in their garden after I entered through the gate, not the house. Then I did a few laps of Thompson's park, before joining Clare for her afternoon stroll over to Bute Park for a cuppa in the Secret Garden Cafe. The rest of the day just slipped by and I didn't get around to a trial bag packing.

A new Nordic crimmie started this evening on four, set in the Faroe Islands. It's in Danish and Faroese with English subtitles. The scenery is rugged and spectacularly beautiful, the story is about the death of a young environmental activist who isn't popular because her disclosures and campaigning unsettle the status quo. It seems to be about exposing corruption surrounding whaling and industrial pollution. I'll watch the other two double episodes on iPlayer before I leave, as digital rights management doesn't UK web streaming services run abroad without paying a subscription. Who knows what will be available on the chaplaincy house telly, if there is one.

Practical inspiration

A lovely day today, but with the best of the morning given up to the second part of my Zoom Safeguarding training session. To prepare for the session I had to watch the two case study videos on YouTube of the Bishop Peter Ball case - an uncomfortable account of how a secular predator within the church courted members of the British establishment of church and state which was taken in by his charismatic pious personality, blind to how manipulative he was, and then in denial when the law caught up with him. I had seen it before, but it was good to review it for present purposes.

It occurred to me listening to the dramatized transcript of his police interviews that he was a man who sincerely believed in the rightness of his abusive actions, seeing and interpreting them as acceptable to God. On the surface it seemed as if he was promoting a kind of mediaeval penitential asceticism, but dig down beneath the layer of ostensibly orthodox monastic teaching and what you have is a peculiar kind of syncretism, 

Christian faith with a hidden layer of belief in an alien deity that embraces aberrant sexual behaviour, cruelty and domination. The worship of ancient middle eastern deities centred around nature's cycle of fertility and found a place not only for human sacrifice but also temple prostitutes, both male and female, as part of sacred ritual. such secret beliefs justifying his actions to himself wouldn't make much sense of forensic interrogator. There was evidence he had broken the law, but on theological reflection his behaviour stank of idolatry.

In the Zoom session, we looked at a rather complex case study and discussed how its developments should be responded to from a safeguarding perspective. It was very helpful. I think more sessions of this kind would be valuable, to keep us on the alert, as new kind of vulnerability keep emerging in an ever changing, not always benign world. Completing the training means that my Permission to Officiate can now be re-issued, making me completely 'legit' for three years locum service, not just provisionally for the next couple of months.

Afterwards, I started work on my Sunday sermon as I had an idea I to pursue prompted by the training. Looking at the parable of the Good Samaritan in its context of discussion about 'Who is my neighbour', I realised Jesus was good at presenting case studies of real life issues, rather than indulging in abstract generalities, and that got me started. It turns out to be particularly relevant at this time in St German's as the church is hosting a Safeguarding training session for the Ministry Area at the end of this month.

I was so absorbed in what I was doing that it took me until lunchtime to realise that I had forgotten to take the car to N G Motors in Splott for its MOT test, booked for today. I drove straight over and left the car there for the weekend. I'll have to use the bus to get to St German's on Sunday.

After a snack lunch, I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer audio, finishing just in time for the arrival of Kath and Rhiannon mid afternoon for an overnight stay. We planned to go out for a meal but Rhi was feeling unwell with a cold, so we ordered a takeaway from Stefano's instead. 

It was sunny and warm enough to eat outdoors - a very enjoyable meal, followed by a quiet hour of catch-up chatting. The others turned in at eleven, but I went out to stretch my legs and walked in the park for half an hour before bed. 

Propaganda drama

I woke up this morning later than usual this morning and uploaded the link to Morning Prayer, listening to news that fifty members of the government have now resigned, including a few appointed as replacement ministers only a few days ago, after realising the impossible situation they'd put themselves in. But Boris hadn't yet resigned. The world had to wait until twelve thirty for him to make a bullish resignation speech, promoting his achievements in office with no sign of humility or contrition. He's still convinced he is fit for purpose, despite growing consensus that he is not.

After a week of unprecedented political chaos at the top of government, the world now has to wait three months until a new Tory party leader can be elected. Calls are already being made for him to step down now and appoint his deputy Dominic Raab as a caretaker Prime Minister. Labour threatens to call a vote of no confidence in the government if he doesn't step down immediately, so the drama continues. What next.

I had a message from Mother Francis asking if I could cover this morning's Eucharist at St John's. When I arrived the nave was set up as a recording studio. The church is hosting the European prize winning Cory Brass Band this week, making a new CD. There were only five of us and we worshipped at the high altar using the choir stalls for a change. I enjoyed that.

After coffee, I returned home, listened to Boris' resignation speech and cooked lunch, while Clare went into town and bought a new garden hose, The one we bought at B&Q last month has already sprung a leak and cannot be repaired. The new one was half the price, a proper old fashioned kind of rubber hose, less likely to leak. Much to my delight and relief our new GHIC cards arrived in the post decorated with the Union Flag rather than that of the EU nowadays. Fortunately it does the same job as the EHIC card, enabling you to access basic health care abroad. 

Later in the afternoon, I walked along the Taff, and returned in time to listen for news updates, but now there's mainly discussions about whether or not Boris will withdraw to let another be caretaker Prime Minister and speculation about candidates contending to replace him.

After supper I watched the final two episodes of 'The Undeclared War'. I found the whole story quite disturbing. How real the possibilities are, rather than fictional extrapolations, I don't enough to tell, but the overall Russian offensive strategy outlined in the story seems  in line with what British security and military heads have been saying this past few years. All in all an interesting effort at a war propaganda movie for our time.

Cyber intrigue portrayed

We were back in church at St Catherine's for this morning's Eucharist. It looks bright and clean after the re-decoration. There were eight of us with Mother Frances. She spoke interestingly about St Thomas More's 'Utopia', a book I've never read. He was a man of conscience in Henry VIII's government opposing schism from Rome and Henry declaring himself head of the church. Although More was much valued by the king, he paid with his life for defying Henry, and sticking to his principles. It was a timely reminder of Christian integrity in the midst of our current political leadership crisis.

After the service, a coffee and a chat, I collected this week's veggie bag, returned home to investigate the mail order purchase from Church House London of baptism cards and communion wafers to take with me, as I've been requested to look into it.  in London to see if delivery would be possible by Monday next at the latest. I had no luck however, as there were none of either in stock right now, and time is running short.

Clare cooked a fish pie for lunch with a sweet potato topping. It made a change from ordinary potatoes, much lighter on the digestion. Then I went into town to deposit a cheque and inform Santander Bank about my debt card use abroad. It was confirmed that the least expensive way to buy in euros is to use a Santander ATM to withdraw cash, as this doesn't attract a fee the way using a card for purchases does. Good to know. I also looked for new travel bags, as few of the ones we have match our need to fly without hold baggage this time around. Not only does this cut the cost, but in a time when baggage handling is suffering from staff shortages internationally, it means being able to come and go without baggage delay. 

The dedicated luggage store has gone from St David Centre. M&S offered nothing, John Lewis' range of travel bags was far too expensive, except for a small rucksack in the sale. House of Frazer had a decent selection. Many of them were discounted. For just under sixty quid I got two really useful items for less than half their total price. Mission accomplished!

In the evening I binge watched 'The Undeclared War' on More Four, a drama about a cyber attack with GCHQ at the front line. It was written earlier this year, set in 2024. Embedded in the first episode was a news report featuring a new Prime Minister addressing a protesting crowd. We were told that eighteen months earlier Boris Johnson had been ousted in Parliamentary coup. And this was made before this weeks tide of government resignations was even contemplated, just before the confidence vote I think. Fiction and fact bumping into each other. The overall story makes a good job of explaining Russia's cyber warfare strategy, whilst portraying a brilliant young student intern working with an surprising an experienced team of geeks. I don't know how credible it is in all the detail, but it seems credible enough and does resort to a semi magical view of the digital world. Not a bad piece of educational propaganda in the light of the Ukraine war.

Another Boris crisis

After breakfast this morning, I completed the on-line check-in for next Tuesday's flight and downloaded the PDF of the boarding card to my phone. Then Clare reminded me of the need to carry a vaccination certificate as well. That was less than straightforward. Initially the NHS app failed me, as it's less than clear at the outset that NHS Wales is not served by the app. You have to look for the NHS Wales website and follow the procedure from there to obtain the vaccination certificate PDF, delivered by a mobile phone text message containing a web-link to the download. It could be more straightforward than it is. Anyway I have all the necessary travel documents now. All I have to do now is sort out travel money, and that's for tomorrow or the day after.

Clare had a dentist's visit mid morning, so I did the weekly grocery shopping trip to the Co-op, and then cooked lunch. I had chaplaincy emails to respond to after lunch. It sounds as if I will be collected from the airport instead of having to take the coach to Estepona. I'm grateful for this as there's likely to be a higher risk of catching covid on a crowded coach than on a 'plane with a much higher standard air conditioning system. One risk is better than two. I just have to stay away from busy crowded places this week. We won't see Jasmine as everyone around her has covid, but not her so far, but the risk she'll catch it and transmit it is still high. It's very sad but inevitable.

We went for a walk around Llandaff Fields and down to Blackweir for a drink at the TukTuk cafeteria, a motor tricycle equipped to sell drinks, which parks the other side of the bridge. The guy running it told us he's an architecture student, and we had an interesting chat, with him telling us as he lives with dyslexia for which he has developed a successful coping strategy.

There was a fascinating programme on Sky Arts this evening about the 20th century artist M C Escher whose extraordinary body of paintings and prints featuring unfathomable geometric patterns with tricks of perspective embedded in them. His art has been influential on designers as well as other artists since the sixties when he came to public attention by designing an album cover for a Rolling Stones LP.

Today's news centres yet again on a crisis around Boris Johnson's leadership and judgement in appointing MP Chris Pincher as Deputy Chief Whip when he was known to have a reputation as a sex pest. He's accused of two sexual assaults last week, and when this came to light he resigned his position and had the Tory Whip withdrawn. During the day Johnson has been openly criticised for lying by a retired senior civil servant, and lost two senior members of his cabinet. He's made excuses for his action in appointing Pincher that were hardly credible, and is coming for criticism from all sides. Opinion is turning against the Prime Minister in conservative media and among the public. There's no sign of Johnson resigning, so it remains to be seen if the Tory Party finds a way to dislodge him.

Nearly ready to go

Returning home from St German's yesterday passing the former St James' church building, I noticed the security fence enclosing the site on the  Newport Road side has been taken down to reveal the north face of the building for the first time since it was bought and the developers started working on proposals, thirteen years ago. A plan to convert the place into fourteen apartments has finally come to completion. Not long after the building was bought, the banking crash occurred and the flow of credit to all sorts of projects dried up, and work halted. Now there's a big sign outside and an advertisement for apartments for sale. I'd love to have a look what's been done inside the building since the Parish lost it in 2007.

Monday's housework routine was disrupted this morning by my urgent need to make an enquiry call about travel insurance cover, following up on last night's premium quotation obtained on-line. I had to wait an hour and then had a forty minute conversation enabling me to purchase cover for the next year. I paid £148 which is £37 more than the 2020 pre covid price, but then a big increase was something I expected. 

While I was waiting for the call, I worked on texts for the next Morning Prayer to pass the time, and answered a few emails about chaplaincy arrangements for next week. Clare was out at a Pilates class, so I cooked lunch. Then we drove over to Rumney for a hairdressing session with Chris - both of us. 

On our way home we called in Currys superstore to look for an electric waffle iron. It seems they don't stock them. In fact none of the big retailers of domestic goods stock them. If you want one, you have to go on-line to buy from Amazon. Is this a matter of something being out of fashion? No longer any demand? Incredible.

After supper I started checking in for my flight on-line, in response to a prompt email from Vueling, but I couldn't complete the process and get my boarding pass, as the free random seat assignation option doesn't start until tomorrow.

It's pretty certain we won't see Jasmine now, even though she's not yet tested positive for covid, but she's still in the company of people who do have it, and to reach Cardiff, whether she is driven all the way or driven to catch a Cardiff train by her covid stricken Dad, the risk of infection escalates. In my flight check-in procedure was quite a detailed notification about not flying if you've got covid or been in close contact with someone who has it within ten days. It's even stricter than I imagined, so there's no way either Clare or I should see Jasmine, just in case. So sad.

After supper, I finished my share of the housework and then watched this week's episode of Blacklist. It's an extremely dark and violent mix of criminal conspiracies and spy fiction in which vengeance is the persistent threat and the message seems to be that however nasty, the end justifies the means. A bit like Putin's mob, only these are all American Feds verses a cosmopolitan global underworld, or something. I watch to see if there'll ever be any point to the series of case stories making up the episodes.