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.
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