Air ambulance on Llandaff Fields

A good sleep, thanks to milder weather, although still feeling physically tired after the exertions of the past few days. It was lovey to return to the congregation for the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were a dozen of us present to celebrate the feast of St Aidan, and happy chat over coffee afterwards. We discussed the possibility of opening the church hall regularly from 9.30 - 12.30 throughout the colder months of the year to welcome people living locally who might benefit from a heated space in which to spend time, whether working remotely, chatting with others, swapping books. We're thinking of branding this as the 'Warm Wednesday' initiative, opening up and seeing what happens, once we start to publicise it the vicinity.

Before lunch, I took my heel worn shoes and sandals needing heel strap shortening to 'Canton Cobblers', a traditional family business near the Post Office on Cowbridge Road East. Three generations were in the shop when I arrived, grandfather, father and son, eight years old. To my delight, I was served very nicely by the lad, with support from Grandpa in making out a receipt. Two jobs, twenty five quid for both, ready Saturday. Amazing! Then I fetched this week's veggie bag, lighter than usual as it's crammed with salad veg. I also bought a tray of cherry tomatoes at coffee from the church garden, so now we have abundance, but I'm the only one that eats them nowadays.

After a siesta in the chair, a walk down to the Taff. An air ambulance helicopter was circulating over our neighbourhood very low. By the time I reach Llandaff Fields, it had landed and its paramedics ministering to a very young child, who didn't seem to have any physical injuries to be attended to, but was screaming with pain and distress. Maybe a sting, or an allergic reaction, but something distressing enough for such an intervention. Given the ambulance deployment crisis in Britain at the moment, it may have been the only rapid response possible to avert a more serious crisis. I noticed one of the paramedics giving the screaming child a lollipop in an effort to calm its terror. Better than a sedative in those circumstances.

Curious kids on bikes turned up to take a closer look at the helicopter, whose engines had quickly been switched off fortunately. Outside Cafe Castan stood three police cars. I saw no police officer heading to the landing zone, to stand between the aircraft and the curious kids on bikes. I found this disturbing. It was unclear what three patrol cars were needed for. Certainly not to protect the mother and her child as they were sat out in the open and given plenty of space by passers by.

The river is running low, enough water for youngsters to be jumping into the deeper pools, but the flow of water revealing the extent of the banks of alluvial stones that lie just under the normal surface level. A heron was keeping vigil in one narrow place where water was flowing fast. Green algal bloom which has floated downstream is depositing on the banks of stones and consolidating them into islands that may be harder to wash away when flood water returns. I wonder if any river bed dredging will be done before Wale's monsoon season returns. It's terrible hearing about the extent of the floods devastating Pakistan at the moment. More grim evidence of climate crisis.

I spent the evening relaxing in front of the telly, watching the first of Michael Portillo's travelogues in the Pyrenees relating to his parents' history during the Spanish civil war. Then 'Blacklist' then 'Shetland'. Sheer indulgence.

Coming home

Well, we laid in bed for about seven hours and slept fitfully, eventually getting up at four ahead of the alarms. Our taxi arrived at five to five and by twenty past we joined the check-in queue along with five hundred others taking one of four flights being handled by the Vueling desk staff all at the same time. The queue moved at a remarkably steady pace, with half a dozen desks open, and in twenty minutes we had deposited out bags and were on our way to the security queue, which took us another twenty minutes to get through. 

That was when I realised that I wasn't wearing my small wooden pectoral cross, bought in Thessaloniki in 1994. It has travelled everywhere with me since then, but this morning I guess it must have fallen on the floor in room 308 at Hotel Eliseos. There was nothing that could be done apart from phone the hotel reception desk, but I couldn't get through, perhaps because I was upset and used the wrong country code. I had to wait until we arrived home to call and leave a message on their answering service, plus a back up email.

The flight was full and twenty minutes late closing the doors. Perhaps because it was among the first out bound flights of the day, the pilot seemed to drive the aircraft rapidly along side runways where normally there's be a stately queue for take off. At ten to eight we took to the air, flying north west through mist and cloud as the sun was about to rise. Two hours and twenty minutes later we were touching down at Rhoose, having flown in to land from the West over St Athan air station for the first time I can recall. We phoned for a taxi from Dragon cabs in Barry, and were picked up fifteen minutes later. Home by half past ten, after a smooth journey, marred only by losing my cherished little cross.

I found two other small ones in my office drawer. With help from Clare and her jewellery equipment it was possible to enlarge a hole in the upper part of the cross, through which to hang a length of string. This for me isn't decoration but a statement about who I am and what my life is about. I'm not going to change this any time. I do hope the hotel gets my messages, and retrieves the original cross for me. 

We did a couple of loads of post travel clothes washing, responded to priority mail and messages, including a Windows 10 update for my office workstation, then after an improvised lunch, I went out and shopped for fruit and veg., then went into town to get a new CMOS battery installed in my watch, and acquire an new Post Office Money Card, as mine expires today. It only has a few euros left on it, but I found this kind of pre-pay currency card very useful this time around, and could afford to put fifty quid's worth of euros on it, from my recent earnings. 

After supper, we watched a 'Fake or Fortune' programme about the authentication of a Modigliani sketch  but both were rally too tired to take it in. How quickly the evening slipped by and left us ready for bed, 

Walking the Old Town again

A humid night, waking up to thunder storms from six. We breakfasted at Cafe Flor across the Paseo de Reding from the hotel. Clare had tortilla and I have a huge bacon baguette. The heavens opened while we were eating, and I found the pavements very slippery thereafter. I didn't realise until I examined my shoes later how the tread had almost entirely worn off. I'd have been fine if I'd changed into sandals, but I didn't and as a result, our walk around the streets of the old town felt unnervingly precarious.

We went to see if 'La Casa Invisible' community project in the old town was still operational, and it seems it is, thought it's closed Mondays. We had coffee in 'Dulces Dreams' a gourmet coffee shop jut around the corner, opposite Dos Martires Church, then meandered back through the streets to the Cathedral. It was too crowded with tourists to be worth the effort of visiting, so we headed back to the hotel for a rest before lunch with Rosella at the same restaurant where were ate last night. It's four years since we last had a face to face chat. Just after we met at the hotel, we bumped into Fr Louis, the present chaplain of Malaga as we crossed the road. It was a pure chance meeting, and a welcome opportunity to make contact with him. He didn't join us for lunch as he was on his way to the gym.

After we parted company with Rosella, we rested for a while, then went for a walk along the port and into the Old Town for another walk around, with a drink and slice of delicious carrot cake to crown the day. All in all we walked over fourteen kilometres, before a picnic supper and even earlier than usual bed, given a five o'clock ride to the airport in the morning.

Màlaga homecoming

Up at six thirty, putting a load of bed linen into the wash just after seven, then breakfast. By the time we left for San Pedro at nine, the sheets were on the line drying.

We were about two dozen for the Eucharist at San Pedro. I finished unhurried in good time to make my farewells and get on the road to Sotogrande. The child to be baptized in the service was three years old and clearly not feeling at ease in church, or maybe reflecting her parents' unease. She wasn't happy about the baptismal ritual and reacted to my attempt to sign her with the cross, so I asked her father to do this instead as it's permissible anyway. She howled in protest when I poured water over her head. 

It might have been different if her parents had brought her to church before her baptism day, but they didn't. Congregation members were pleased that we used the traditional font and not a bowl of water at the altar. Having a procession to the font was part of the process to my mind. Anyway, all ended well. I said my second set of goodbyes, and headed back to Estepona.

Clare had lunch ready when I arrived, and the second load of washing was already nearly dry. With everything packed, it was but a short time before Paul arrived with Patricia to had over the keys. Paul drove us to the bus station in good time for the five thirty coach to Málaga, arriving just after seven. We took a local bus from the estación de buses to the Paseo del Parque, and walked from there to Hotel Eliseo in La Malagueta, right next to the apartment block where I spent many months a few years back, where the chaplain now lives.

We went out for supper at the Central Bar Restaurant, and had a very pleasant meal as it was getting dark. Then a short walk on the beach before turning in for the night. Happy to be back in a corner of the world which means so much to me.

Last Lap

A cooler night, but one of disturbed sleep for both of us, winding up ready to travel I guess. We spent the morning cleaning the house and putting things in order. I had to complete my preparations for a very busy final Sunday with a baptism concluding.

Clare went for a swim while I was working, and then we walked down to 'La Escollera' restaurant in the fishing port for lunch. Escollera means breakwater in Spanish. How strange that the restaurant's logo is a fishing trawler!

It's very popular with Spanish diners, with a very varied fish menu. I imagine that in the winter it just has indoor tables for eighty people, but at other times, the parking area outside is covered with tables under huge umbrellas, catering for as many people again. We didn't have to queue or wait long to be served once we sat down. We ordered a large mixed salad between us. Clare had Monkfish, I had big local Sardinas and the portions were generous. It was the treat we both needed, and very reasonably priced with drinks at forty euros.

We were going to catch the bus back but ended up walking rather than wait twenty minutes. No bus passed us in that time. We needed a siesta then, but already packing was on my mind. I want everything possible ready to go before my morning's work tomorrow, so that we can enjoy a final lunch before being taken for our coach to Malaga.

On my way back from taking out stuff for recycling I noticed a black van with its engine running, outside one of the houses in the street below ours, with the legend 'Interfunerals' on the back. The sort of van that would be sent to collect someone who'd been certified dead and cleared for removal. In the land of holiday homes and ageing occupants, death too can be a visitor from time to time.

Bag packing this evening, floor cleaning and a peek at a historical travelogue about Sicily before early bed.

Leaving it the way you want to find it

After breakfast this morning we picked up Patricia from her house, so she could deposit a large bag of charitably donated clothes in the boot of the car for transport to Sotogrande on Sunday. For this last time we drove to San Pedro for the CAMEO coffee morning. Among the people at table with us was a Spanish friend of Joes, a retired air steward. His English was good, but he was happy to chat with me in Spanish at the same time. I had probably my longest conversation in Spanish without lapsing into English. Amazing!

On our way back we made a shopping trip to Mercadona, and filled the car with fuel, so that it's ready for the incoming chaplain. We're into winding down mode now, re-stocking the fridge, tidying the office and cleaning the house, leaving the place the way you'd rather find it.

When we set out on our afternoon paseo, after a siesta, there was a service vehicle parked at an awkward angle next to the area of the rubbish and re-cycling bins. There's also a bus stop in the same area, at the point where Line 1 drops off passengers before turning at the next roundabout and picking up passengers for the eastbound journey. By the time we returned, the bus stop had disappeared, and the post holes were neatly filled with concrete! Sensible. Only one bus stop is needed, and that's still there across the road.

Tonight's BBC Prom is dedicated entirely to the music making of Aretha Franklyn, who made a huge contribution, not only to 20th century soul music, but to modern black history, feminism and human rights. You can say it, preach it, but somehow when you sing it, it penetrates deeper and sticks. Wasn't it Saint Augustine who said "A prayer sung is twice said."?

Need for order

I woke up at dawn and posted my Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp an hour earlier than usual.  After breakfast I went to Carrefour to re-stock food items we'd used while Clare did her physio exercises and then went for a swim. By the time she returned from the pool I'd made progress in cooking our lunch.

Patricia sent me a message about the possibility of using the office computer for the Powerpoint slides at Sunday worship. I've not used it, as I discovered early on that its set-up and updating process had stalled. As it was going to be needed at some point soon, I took another look at it. Three hours of the afternoon later it had finished the process and was running as smoothly as was possible for a twelve year old laptop running Windows 10. Its version of MS Office is still unregistered, and its OneDrive account inaccessible or simply unused, but it runs Powerpoint presentations properly, even if it's a bit slow getting to the point where it can.

I realise that some of the problems I've had about finding relevant information since I've been here are due to it not being accessible how I expect it to be. The chaplaincy handbook, wedding and baptism register weren't in designated places. There's no compendium of information about the household. It's all there, but in piecemeal fashion. Loads of detailed directory information about who does what, displayed in a small print paper file pinned to a notice board, hard for me to read at the moment. 

None of this  information could I find available on the chaplain's computer. For someone unfamiliar with the setup arriving, with few people to ask and get explanations from, while getting on with the job, this has made life difficult. It would have helped if the study had been tidy and everything put away in the designated place. I didn't realise that the first thing I needed to do at the outset was tidy up. So much chaplaincy business is now conducted on-line that ordering the workspace, including a functional office computer is still desirable. This may have been no problem for returning locum clergy, but coming in from scratch is another matter. I've enjoyed the work challenges, but understand now why it's all felt so precarious on times.

We went for a walk on the senda litoral before supper. I watched a classic movie on BBC Four called Witness for the Prosecution, a classic British 1957 courtroom drama with remarkable twists at the end, starring Marlene Dietrich, Charles Laughton and Tyrone Power. Great entertainment, like going to the theatre.

Coast watch

Another night when it wasn't too hot to sleep thankfully. A load of washing done and hung out to dry after breakfast, then editing next week's Morning Prayer audio, making the video and uploading it to You Tube. We then went for a walk along the senda litoral, where the mouth of the rio Guadalobon is blocked off once more. The charco teeming with fish and sometimes turtles as well is a natural feature, but I'm pretty confident nature is being given a helping hand here. I wish I could find out more.

While we were walking I heard the rumble of a high powered motor boat off shore. Not that of a pleasure craft or a fishing boat, but a high powered engine. I caught sight of a boat off-shore and took a picture that revealed the legend 'Guardia Civil'. This must be one of the high speed Spanish vessels that intercept drug transporting craft, commonly called RIBs (Rigid Inflatable Boats) with big racing engines, equipped to outpace standard police and customs patrol vessels. 

Costa del Sol far western beaches are destinations for drug runners in highly sophisticated organised crime enterprises. Cargo is off-loaded to a RIB outside territorial waters, then run ashore to a rendezvous with transporting gangs on-shore. Andalucia outside of the holiday zone is economically deprived, so it's not good when drug crime is shown to pay, but this isn't prevention but rather mitigation of the reality. Real economic development, productive industry would do more for the health of the region and its crime rate.

Clare cooked swordfish for lunch, a delicious favourite of ours. I augmented yesterday's efforts to use all the veggies Clare's diet doesn't allow with brown lentils soaked overnight and cooked with garlic. The mix went down well with gluten free pasta, but the swordfish had to be savoured on its own!

After a siesta, Clare had a swim in the pool, then we went for another walk by the sea before supper, and for lack of anything better to do or watch, a couple of ancient episodes of NCIS before early bed. Both of us are feeling tired today, perhaps because of the amount of walking we did yesterday.

Back again in the Old Town

When we woke up at sunrise, we were surprised to see a cumulus cloud bank along the Moroccan coast, not just the usual sea mist. Will this bring proper rain, or more dust and sand from North Africa? Depends on the prevailing wind I suppose.

I picked up Patricia at a quarter to eleven and we drove to the coffee morning at Sabinillas. Clare decided not to come with us. With people starting to return from holidays, there were eight of us altogether. After the session Patricia took me to an estanco where I could buy postage stamps, as Clare bought postcards to send yesterday. It was also a newsagent's and tobacconist's shop selling English newspapers, and I had to queue for five minutes to get into the shop before being served.

After returning, I accompanied Clare to the urbanizacion swimming pool for her daily dip, and then we prepared lunch together. The cloud was high and it was humid, and a siesta after eating essential. Later we cauight the bus to the town centre and walked the short distance from there into the Casco Viejo, as the old town on the hill is called, with the remains of its Saracen fortress and Roman octagonal tower, and the parish church of La Virgen de los Remedios. There was a big festive procession through the streets here on 15th August, but sadly I didn't know anything about what was happening.

The church dates from the 18th century and started life as a Franciscan tertiary order convent. Like San Pedro's church in San Pedro itself, the design of the building reflects Latin American colonial influence in its style. Unusually, the facade of its tall tower is painted yellow with red lines ostensibly marking where the corner stone building blocks are located. Because of its Franciscan history, buildings surrounding the church are still in use by the parish and its Marian cofradia. There's a statue outside in honour of a 20th century parish priest who served there for fifty years. The streets in the surrounding area are very much in the Andalusian pueblo blanco tradtiion, well looked after and full of flowers. At six, however, the streets were still empty and none of the hostelries were open. We had walk down to the sea front to get a drink and find a toilet, in an amusing styled retro '50's bar/cafe called 'Pit Stop'

We walked back from there to the port, and just missed a bus back to Beverly Hills. Rather than wait forty minutes for the next one, we walked back in twenty five, and were very tired because of the heat and humidity. After supper, I slumped in front of the telly for a while before turning in for the night.

Enquiries enquiries

We were up slowly at seven again, the slightly cooler mornings make life slightly less challenging. I felt quite proud of myself calling the Hotel Elyseo in La Malagueta Malaga to book us a room for Sunday and Monday nights, and doing the entire thing in Spanish. Half an hour later a funeral arranger rang up to ask help with a funeral on 1st September. His accent was somewhat thicker, but I took down his number and said I'd pass it on to someone who could deal with it. 

Later in the day, he called again a second time. I had to tell him that the person who would help make arrangements for my successor to take the service would soon make contact, but was probably very busy at the moment. I had emailed Andrea about this and she did make contact later in the afternoon. Uncertainties of this kind are part and parcel of life in between chaplains with locum clergy coming and going. It's not an easy time for anyone going through a crisis of this time.

I had a message from the lady who arranged the funeral for her aunt yesterday, wanting to know if I could christen her grand daughter next Sunday at Sotogrande. I think the family had taken to me and hoped that I'd be able to take on this request, arising from a spontaneous reaction to the service I'd taken. A double christening at Sotogrande would require preparation and planning as the father of the child in question is Spanish, so many attending wouldn't be English speakers. I don't think there was much understanding of what would make for a relaxed and natural event with people of two different languages with different expectations needing attention. I had to say no, and not just see this as a pastoral challenge to tackle as I'm leaving town later the same afternoon. There is my successor arriving a couple of days later after all. More time to think about the best opportunity for a bi-lingual baptism celebration, for everyone's sake.

Again I cooked lunch while Clare swam in the urbanizacion pool. After siesta time we walked to Carrefour for groceries and had a drink in 'Buen Temps' on the way back. Clare then went for another swim, making the most of the opportunity presented, while I walked up the valley scorched by the fire a month ago, I've found from delving into Google maps that the stream is called 'arroyo de Janacino'.

It was quite a surprise to find the extent to which the grass, cane and cactus plants lining the valley are already recovering at a pace, pushing out through burnt ash strewn soil to a height of a metre in places, bright greens against grey and black ash. The temperature night and day has swung between 25 and 35C and there's been almost no rain, just occasion damp mist and humidity. On the surface the water course is completely dry, but  there's enough embedded moisture to raise the vegetation to life again after a small eco-disaster. Inspirational.

I watched a Panorama special investigation into on-line trading of female images collected by men all over the world and traded as male status commodities. The case in question focussed on the Reddit platform, but similar things exist on other social media platforms. It's sinister, ugly, exploitative and seemingly unstoppable, now a digital device toting global population is addicted to social media. What have we done to ourselves?

Sunday funeral

We were up at dawn this morning, watching the sun rise above the scorched hill to the east of us, about ten minutes after the sun appeared on the far side of Estepona bay, An early email from Andrea told me that I was mistaken about Fr William's arrival time, so I had to email the funeral arranger and apologise for mis-informing him about his availability.

We picked up Patricia at nine for the drive to the service at San Pedro, which this week used service books and hymnals again. Following the service a party of seven came with Auntie Jessie's ashes and I officiated at a full funeral service for her before they took her remains away to scatter off her favourite beach. 

We used a new bluetooth speaker linked to my phone to provide music for the three hymns we sang. It worked fine, except that the rendering of hymns they had chosen wasn't easy to sing along to because of the way the organist paused un-necessarily between verses. That was my error unfortunately, but we muddled through.

Then I joined Clare and Patricia and other members of the congregation at Cafe Tradicional for a much needed drink before driving back to the house. Several people remarked how I seem to have been busier with additional pastoral duties than other locum chaplains. For me it's made my stay worthwhile. Next Sunday is my last, and there's another baptism this time at the Sotogrande service.

I cooked while Clare went for a swim, then while she had a post-lunch siesta I worked on my end-of-duty report. As it wasn't very hot at the end of the afternoon, we went down to the Play Guadalbon so Clare could have another swim in the sea at a different location. There are some places where conditions within safe distance of the shore are better than others. A matter of trial and error.

After supper, I slumped in front of the telly and watched Countryfile and Antiques Roadshow before turning in for the night. Although that wasn't such a hot day, I found it rather tiring.

An active day

It was a pleasantly cool night and for much of the day its as 28-29C with a breeze again. I woke up as the sky was turning orange and went outside to watch the dawn and take a few photographs, then went back to bed for a while. Clare cooked pancakes for breakfast with egg batter so I couldn't eat them as I would have done at home, made with a vegan. Never mind, Saturday ritual was duly observed., complete with mashed banana and choccy sauce. 

I had a message from Patricia to say she'd arranged a lift for us to the coach station for our departure a week tomorrow. There was a phone call from a funeral arranger for a service on 31st August. The man in question was by his accent, a Brit, but didn't know that the chaplain he'd worked with before had left nearly a year ago. I was able to put him in touch with incoming locum priest Fr William, who arrives on the day we fly home, fortunately.

We were out of bread and mushrooms, so I walked to the Carrefour market while Clare did her special physio exercises. She went for a swim in the urbanizacion pool while I prepared lunch. After a siesta, we walked to Playa Seghers so she could have a second swim in the sea off a crowded beach, but the water was too shallow for a good swim, without going further out and not being within sight. Determination to have a sea swim satisfied, albeit briefly.

We then walked further towards town to 'Buen Temps' a Chinese run café and small shop for a drink. As we were near Carrefour, I popped across the road to get some lemons, another item forgotten from the shopping list. There's something about persistent heat that seems to impair brain function if you're unused to it. When Clare went to pay she was accidentally overcharged as she was given someone else's bill, so I had to go back with her and explain to rectify matters. My Spanish works, even it I find it hard to recall the correct vocabulary for a specific item!

I walked further today than at any other time since I've been here. We were both pretty tired by the time we returned for a salad supper, and agreed on an early night, with an early Sunday start ahead of us.

Exit plans

Another pleasant sunny day with a cooling breeze - 26-29C. We picked up Patricia from the bus stop at ten twenty and drove to the CAMEO coffee morning in San Pedro. We were eight with the regulars, several others still away. When we drove back into Estepona we left the A7 by a different junction, which took us pas the industrial estate zone where last month's fire did some damage to one of the units nearest to the open heath land. The route was busy with traffic but gave me a new perspective on the town's geography. Inland it's very hilly, and every hill is populated with housing, much of it high rise. We used this route in order to pass by Patricia's house and drop off a bag full of English language novels. They were the last of several bags of books left by previous occupants and circulated among ex-pats in need of a new read. 

Clare had a swim before we cooked lunch, then after a siesta we took a bus from the bottom of the hill that could take us to the east side of Estepona Bay to the Estacion de Buses. When the bus reaches the post it has to turn inland and wind its way over the hills through various barrios, passing the edge of the old town and eventually reaching the far side of the Paseo de la Rada. The bus can't turn east here, as there's no junction to enable this. It has to turn west and drive for half a kilometre before it can join the eastbound carriageway in order to reach the Palacio de Congresos and a Carrefour Hypermarket located in the same vicinity as the coach terminus.

We bought coach tickets for the 17.30 coach to Malaga a week next Sunday, and then went to board a bus that would take us back to the house. The driver wouldn't let us on because didn't have a mask. On the out bound bus, the driver wasn't bothered, although as the bus picked up passengers it became evident other passengers were wearing them. We had to go into Carrefour and buy a pack of masks before we could get on the next bus. It was the same driver who took us on the outbound run, still not wearing his mask properly, in contrast to his zealous colleague. Ah well!

When we got back, Clare fancied another swim, so we went to the pool. It was full of small children, all have a great time. She swam for ten minutes, sunbathed a while longer, and then we headed back to the house. I made fish soup with rice and peas for supper. Clare relaxed on the sun lounger on the upstairs balcony, watching the sunset, while I walked part of the senda litoral. The charco at the place where the rio Guadalobon reaches the sea had been breached, allowing sea water in, and possibly safe exit for sea turtles and fish normally trapped by the sandbank. This looked a bit like environmental management to me rather than a natural occurrence, as there have been no extreme conditions to lead to such a breach in recent days. For the second time during my stay here, there was a heron in the river, and I don't think it was the same kind of heron as I saw last time. Still, it was a rewarding walk before bed.

Taking the plunge

The hot wind gave way to much cooler conditions overnight and this morning. I uploaded the today's link  to Morning Prayer, and after breakfast finished off next week's offering, and uploaded it to YouTube ready. 

Andrea popped in with the chaplaincy's new Bluetooth speaker, to be used for the first time this Sunday at both the Eucharist and the funeral service that follows it. I had to be sure it would work with my phone as I have MP3 files of the music tucked away on my phone ready to use. 

Then I accompanied Clare to the swimming pool, so she could try herself out in the water. It's the first time for her to swim since her osteoporosis diagnosis, and extra care was needed. Thankfully no mishaps. I cooked her a mushroom omelette with veg for lunch and cooked chorizo with my special lentil dish for myself. I was very pleased to find that I can digest chorizo without distressing my gallstone. It's a taste of Spain I love.

Next, an expedition by car to Mercadona to get things we couldn't find or carry yesterday. It was quiet for an afternoon, perhaps because the 28C temperature and cooling wind made beach-going irresistible after a scorcher of a day yesterday, in every sense. Mission accomplished, we walked to the port and back before supper, and then delighted in an exquisite sunset, viewed from the bedroom balcony, tired after a pretty active day, one way or another.

Wildfire returns

A disturbed night with a hot wind brewing up again. Not the best conditions for Clare to recover from her journey. We walked down to Carrefour to stock up on veggies late morning, and caught a convenient air conditions bus to Beverly Hill to avoid carrying the shopping in the midday heat. Most of the afternoon we siesta'd. But I did take some time to record and edit next week's Morning Prayer upload. It's good to have this ready so soon.

Just after five we heard sirens, one after the other. Fire somewhere or other. When we went down stairs to look, we could see a plume of smoke, driven by the south west wind. West of the A7 motorway is a wooded ridge which gives way into a broad valley beneath the Sierra Bermeja. There are villages, farms urbanizaciones and even the municipal crematorium up beyond the ridge. The flames came up to the edge of the ridge and were visible a mile away from the house. 

The fire command helicopter was in the air surveying the scene within ten minutes of hearing the sirens, and five minutes later the first of the two water bombing helicopters was circling the fire ground and presumably figuring how to tackle the blaze in coordination with ground crews, already on the scene, to judge by the white clouds of steam appearing in the wake of the brown and black clouds of smoke from burning trees and grass. The helicopters must have used the golf course lake water source again, as their water bombing runs over the next hour and a half were amazingly frequent, every couple of minutes. Just after seven, the sky cleared and by eight the A7 was open to traffic again. A superbly executed operation. Three hours this time, as opposed to four last month.

Patricia's sons live the other side of the hill. I called her about the fire, just at she was noticing the clouds of smoke in the sky. She told me later that both f then had called her to ask if she was OK. They knew what was happening but it wasn't affecting them as they feared it might be affecting her. It's one of those things. In a huge landscape fire can devastate one area and miss another altogether, depending on the wind, and geography.

The latest occupants of the house next door were out taking photos. One of them had a drone fitted with a camera and showed us pictures of the fire front at an early stage. The mother had noticed the smoke at around five and called the fire brigade from the swimming pool, she told Clare. The family had driven down from Bordeaux, about 4000km for their holiday. They know all about forest fires up there. We spoke in French, with Spanish vocabulary interfering when I got excited.

Before supper we walked down to the beach and along the senda litoral, along the unpleasant footpath which crosses the rio Guadalbon right next to the A7 roundabout. At that moment police cars blocked the exits, unless you wanted to go west down the coast. The eastbound carriageways were sill closed due to smoke, and cars were banned from trying to take a short cut through Estepona to circumvent the afflicted area. Lots of unhappy motorists around tonight!

As it's been windy all day, the beach was empty and few people were out for their paseo. When we got back we shared a swordfish steak and veggies for supper. Clare the sat on the lounger on the bedroom balcony, enjoying the sunset and the cooler breeze, after a dramatic afternoon to remember,

My photos from this afternoon and the previous wildfire across the valluy are all here. They serve as a reminder of how it's going to be in Britain more frequently in years to come. I hope our helicopter crews will be just as skilled and disciplined in tackling this frightful danger which moves faster than anyone can run.

Happy arrival

After a night made restless with anticipation, I set out for Malaga airport, just as Clare was boarding her flight in Cardiff. I had enough time to drive the slow coast road that took me to La Cala de Mijas to visit Peter and Linda. I decided to trust my memory of the route, rather than rely on Google, especially for the last section of the original N340 expressway that runs close to the sea. My memory only failed me once,,, when I'd reached La Cala and took the wrong roundabout to get to their urbanizacion, but it soon came back to me. I drove straight to the house and parked outside, and then started wondering if this was the right house. 

'Casa Madreselva' I remembered, and then number nine came into my head as I got out to look, only the be greeted by Peter who'd heard me arrive. It was a happy reunion. We haven't met since I was lasr on locum in Malaga, and lots has happened since then. Linda's now wheelchair bound, having lost a leg as a result of an untreatable toe infection. Their way of life has had to adjust quickly to radical changes, and they are facing up to it with courage, determination and good humour. 

It was lovely to finish by praying together. I could have stayed a bit longer in reality, as I arrived at the airport just as Clare's 'plane landed, and it was another three quarters of an hour before we were re-united, and that means a hour's parking fee. The car park was busy, but I was fortunate to find a space easily and get out afterwards without hassle.

The traffic was slow and heavy on the return drive, so it took an hour and a half. It was quite taxing but I coped well and didn't make any mistakes. I cooked us hake cutlets with rice and veg for a meal at tea time, then once it had cooled down we went for a sunset walk on the senda litoral. It's so good to have company. It's been a lonely five weeks.

I learned from an email this morning that the wedding anniversary blessing I was due to celebrate on Saturday has been cancelled. No reason given. I put a fair amount of work into preparing for this event. I'm intrigued to know the reason, as the couple seemed so pleased with the plan for celebration I offered them, but their minds were changed since we met. Maybe a religious ceremony of this kind is perceived as a commodity like any other to be taken or left according to whim. In times past when I did wedding blessings while on locum duty, the event was arranged by a wedding planner who acted as a negotiator with hotels, restaurants, venues for celebration, and with the chaplaincy. This had 'commodity' written all over it, but we made the effort in the hope that something of the significance of the ritual and words would touch hearts and minds in a spiritual way. There was no wedding planner involved here, it was a DIY affair. I wonder if we'll find out eventually?

Missed Assumption

The feast of the Assumption today. It's strange to be in a place in Spain where there's no sound of church bells carried on the breeze. Apparently Mercadona closes its stores for the fiesta as it's owned by a Christian family/company. I've yet to find the historic main parish church of this town. I wonder if there was a street procession of Our Lady somewhere in town today. I noticed nothing in the public realm to suggest there would be. Maybe I just looked in the wrong places.

A comfortably cool night, although the wind moaned around the house until the early hours, and started with renewed vigour as the sun rose. In between work spells, finishing this week's Morning Prayer YouTube upload and drafting next week's ready to record, I did a batch of bed linen washing, two lines full, which dried very rapidly. I received a nice long email from Ann and Paul, about their trip to the Orkneys, and in return told them all about life in Beverly Hills - or is it Beverly Hill?

Although it was 30C and clear skies mid afternoon, the blustery wind was thankfully cooling, so I walked to Carrefour and stocked up on fresh fruit, muesli and coconut milk for Clare> I emailed Peter Hammond and arranged to drop in and see Linda and himself in La Cala de Mijas on my way to the airport to collect Clare tomorrow afternoon. It'll be my first journey away from Estepona outside of work since I've been here, having resolved only to use the car for work, as if I was at home, If Clare fancies a trip somewhere, I'm willing to drive, but I've made an effort to renounce solo tourism. It's no pleasure anyway.

This evening, I went through the wedding anniversary and funeral service lined up for next weekend. Both require streamed YouTube music. Putting together a playlist is one thing. Having control over the content when music is punctuated with promotional material is another. Maybe I was more patient with what I was doing than is often the case, but I had a valuable minor success. 

I've used Audacity for at least a decade to edit sound files. In Ibiza, I did it kit which wasn't mine, using Audacity to record music streamed from YouTube, for one off audio services. Since then I've not been able to reproduce the feat, and it's been most frustrating. This time, as I had time to spare, I explored the options Audacity gives for controlling the laptop hardware, and found the right set of options to record a stream. Making an MP3 file from the digital file is simple. Now I have two sets of MP3 files ready to play, tucked away on the SD card of my Blackberry. I'll be able to play these through the new church Bluetooth sound system with ease and not need to risk using YouTube directly - although I'd prefer to have a hardwired cable naturally!

I went for an invigorating sunset walk in the wind along the senda litoral before switch on the telly and wasting an hour watching another improbable episode of 'Blacklist' on 5USA. Perpetually hard to make any sense of, this series.

Getting the timing right

Well, we were promised a seriously hot day, but in the morning it started being cloudy and humid as it has been over the past few days. Then in the afternoon, the sky cleared of cloud and mist and a fierce hot wind picked up. Just the kind of conditions to encourage a fast spreading blaze.

I was up before the alarm saying morning prayer, and ready to go by a quarter to nine. A baptism party of twice the size of the regular congregation was expected at San Pedro, so we were granted the opportunity of using the main church which seats a couple of hundred. It was necessary to bring all our liturgical kit up from the downstairs chapel - not just the communion vessels, but the little electronic organ, the screen and projector to work with Jean's laptop. 

There aren't enough books for an occasion like this so words for worship have to be displayed on screen, but there's no good place where everyone can see, including me. The church is big and voice amplification is vital. I couldn't see the screen and not step out of range of the microphone, so it was an awkward juggle. The font is in a place of its own to the left of the altar. No microphone there, but the parents and godparents had a sheet with the rite of baptism on it, and participated fine. The rest of the congregation had the words on-screen, and it all worked out, although the baptism party, all dressed in white, like the toddler who was the candidate, were rather chatty for most of the service. Nothing I've not been used to at St German's over the years. It all worked out happily as intended, and I was able to slip away at eleven to reach Sotogrande by eleven forty five.

I was greeted with surprise there, as if it was expected I might arrive late due to the baptism. I explained I'd chosen hymns and tailored the readings and sermon to reduce the risk of over-running. This can be done without haste, but it requires extra work, and as a locum pastor I have time to think about this and make an effort to get it right. Great when it works as intended.

When I got back, I cooked some chicken bought yesterday, to go with the last portion of lentil and veg stew. After a high pressure morning, and a satisfying lunch, a siesta was essential. The hot wind was too fierce to think of going for a walk until it calmed down. Except that it didn't. The wind kept blowing, making the house moan with every gust but as the sun went down it turned from a hot wind to a cooling one, which was quite pleasant when I went out for a late paseo along the shore.

Kath is spending the weekend with Clare and has decided to stay on until Tuesday and drive Clare to the airport to catch her flight. What a lovely thing to do!

Heat haze

Just like Britain, Spain has had a dangerously hot weather warning today with a temperature of 32C, but with high cloud and sea mist, we've been shielded from dangerous glare. It's not been too humid. I guess the best word to describe it would be a sultry day. And that's not a word I use all that often. My time was taken up this morning with detailed preparation for tomorrow's christening at San Pedro. 

This was in the church dairy since well before my arrival and I was so busy getting my head around everything needed to carry our my duties here that it only occurred to me this morning that I hadn't talked to the child's parents. An email brought no response, so later in the day I made contact by phone, reassured myself that all was happening as planned. It gave me an opportunity to brief the mother about coping with a fifteen month old who's already running around.

After lunch I drove to Mercadona for some grocery shopping and refuelled the car on my was back. This was a puzzling experience, as I couldn't figure out the instructions on the pump. I asked the young woman minding the till in the kiosk to explain. She spoke quickly with an Andalusian accent, and smiled when I asked her to slow down, which she didn't. She offered to try in English, but I carried on in Spanish, and eventually gathered that one had to leave cash or a card for payment at the till, then the pump is activated. 

OK, I thought, not knowing exactly how much fuel I needed. I handed over a fifty euro note, and the car took that amount, and maybe would have taken more, but I was conscious of  not knowing properly what I was doing. When I returned to get my receipt, the girl handed me five euros and some small dinero, much to my puzzlement. We laughed our way through a Q&A explanation. I'll have to ask tomorrow, but I think this it may be a government authorised VAT refund to lower the cost of fuel, but it could also serve as an anti-theft measure.

I went for a late afternoon walk. The sun shone out through the layer of cloud, so it wasn't too hot. The Playa del Cristo and Playa Seghers were pretty crowded, but not the beaches further west along the bay. I returned to the house falling short of my daily quota. Heat, tiredness, feet painful though not swollen. No virtue in self punishment. I had an hour's call with Clare and Kath who was visiting for the weekend, such a lovely surprise. A simple salad supper of tomato, lettuce, loads of green olives and bread, later than usual, but very light and refreshing. Then, time for early bed. Busy day tomorrow. Too cloudy to stay up and gaze at the Perseid meteor shower tonight. Sad about this.

Costa Cash

For much of the day a layer of cloud persisted from sierras to sea, with little wind to blow it away or break it up, so it was pretty humid and tiring. 30C heat in the afternoon thinned the cloud into haze, but that's the first time since I've been here that there's been no bright blue sky at all. I picked up Patricia and we drove to San Pedro for the coffee morning, where I was regaled with stories about traditional cash trading culture and how this had been taken advantage of by international money launderers. Modern rules based digital banking exists here in Spain as in any other EU country, but alongside it there's still an attachment to cash trading, using effectivo as they call it, which is far less easy to regulate and pay tax on. Britain is much more tightly regulated, but this hasn't prevented mega rich Russians and Arabs from investing in UK property, pushing house prices up to ridiculous levels.

I noticed at the ham slicing fiesta that all purchases of food and drink were cash in hand. No debit or credit cards, electronic no tap and pay systems used. Maybe it's impossible to impose a fully accountable system of recording trade in such a free market situation. At the end of an evening, stalls will have taken hundreds of thousands of euros between them. Depending on how each business is set up, some earnings may go home in supermarket bags for life, whereas others will be delivered to banks by armoured security car. I understand it's still possible for someone to buy an expensive car, a house or a piece of land with the correct documents, and pay for it in hard cash, if you can find lawyers willing to make it happen for the right fee. It's still a matter of who you know will act in your best interests, rather than who has trustworthy professional credentials. Or at least, so I'm told. 

Perhaps this is true in the rural agrarian economy which is not entirely taken over by big food industries, but still has a place for campesinos - small farmers working on family land. Sadly, this way of life is becoming unsustainable and the countryside and its villages are being drained of population. There are stories of a deserted villages with land and habitable houses being sold for the price of a town house because there's no work for the rising generation.

At the end of the coffee morning we met Rachel and Paul, who are having their wedding anniversary blessing at church a week tomorrow. They've been married twelve years, and covid denied them the possibility of a tenth anniversary celebration in this area, which they visit often having honeymooned here originally. Now they have six children, so they have a lot to celebrate. I think we've got everything sorted out and approved now. It's just a matter of service sheets and music supplied by YouTube to get organised.

It was three by the time my lentil extravaganza was cooked and eaten. With the weather being so humid I have washing to do every day, which takes up time even if it does dry quickly. It was gone six by the time I walked along the senda litoral to the port and back. The sand dredger is no longer chugging away off-shore, and the earth moving equipment on the beach replaced by holidaymakers again. There's a new layer of fine sand all along the seashore, good for making sand castles it seems. There's very little seaweed on the Playa del Cristo and the Playa de Seghers, but further west along the foreshore there's a lot of sea week at the moment, just like there is on the Playa de Rada. I wonder why.

There was a superb documentary on BBC One Wales this evening called 'Who needs Banksy?' It was shot in Port Talbot, where earlier this year Banksy did a subversive mural on a back street garage wall. Sadly it didn't stay there long. Despite local campaigning to retain it, the mural was sold to an art dealer. This awakened an amazing response from local graffitistas, and the Council gave £20k to artists to cover the walls of the town's underpasses with original street art. It's drawn in people who have never used a spray can in their lives, plus a contribution from a Bristol street artist, commission to paint a head of actor and local hero Michael Sheen on the side of a house near one of the parish churches. I couldn't figure out which one it was from the brief glimpse. This outburst of street art is like a love letter from Port Talbot people to their town, so powerfully portrayed in Michael Sheen's 'Port Talbot Passion' of ten years ago. I imagine Banksy would be pleased at this little 'people's revolt'.

Partition, another perspective

A cooler humid day today, 25C in the morning, cloudy for much of the time. When I woke up just after seven I could hear the buzz of a strimmer or maybe a chainsaw coming from land beyond the urbanizacion boundary wall nearby. An effort is being made to clear the undergrowth, and reduce the fire risk, should we not be so lucky with the wind direction next time, Very hot weather is expected this weekend. I posted the link to tis week's Morning Prayer and Reflection an hour earlier than usual, since I was already up.

After breakfast I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer and Reflection audio, with the bussing of power tools inescapable in the distance. Then I finalised my two weekend sermons and printed them, before making lunch. Although it was cool enough to walk, I wasn't in the mood to go out. I had a siesta, then worked on another reflection for two weeks hence, still aiming to get all my preparations done before Clare arrives.

It was gone six when I repeated yesterday's walk as far as the Avenida Juan Carlos to see if the herborista there stocked nettle tea, and I was pleased to find that she did and it only cost me two euros for a packet. I also took photos of the ham slicing championship stalls along the paseo, as the staffs were all now open and displaying their wares - hams, cheeses, some regional wines. It was great to see this very hispanic food fest getting under way, with scores of people buying their cervezas and platos de jamon, served in paper cups and plates. All down the paseo are chest height round tables for four, say, at which to stand and consume. San Miguel brewery seems to have the monopoly on providing al fresco bars, with a half a litre copa priced at one euro fifty. Not bad at all!

When I returned home, BBC Four was showing 'Midnight's Children', based on Salman Rushdie's novel about the partition of the Indian sub-continent 75 years ago this month. An interesting follow up to last night's documentary on this subject, beautifully made, if a little difficult to follow if, like me, you don't know the book.

Ham slicing fiesta

It was quite humid when I woke up at half past six. After sunrise, the sky over the sierras was clear but there was a thick cloud of mist over the sea which took hours to disperse. After breakfast, I wrote another Sunday sermon, and edited next week's Thursday biblical reflection. Andrea sent me a copy of the baptism application form late last night and I sent it off immediately to the family requesting a christening on my final Sunday. This morning the form came back completed. The baptism will happen at my last service in Sotogrande.

With the need to think ahead and plan that last service so everyone knows what's going to happen, I started to think about preparing sermons. Most of the morning and afternoon I spent drafting sermons for the rest of my time here. This will mean I have more free time when Clare is with me. Glad I thought of it.

I walked across to the Paseo de Rada as it began to cool down early evening as far as Avenida Juan Carlos. This time I noticed that the promenade was lined with fiesta type booths, equipped to sell food or drink, but these there in the early stages of getting ready for later evening opening. When I read the publicity banners at the far end, I learned that time between the fiestas of the Transfiguration and the Assumption was dedicated to a special gastronomic event showcasing Spain's remarkable range of cured ham from its different region, an event that's been running for the past 70 years. I'm not sure if it's a trade fair or a nine day gourmet orgy, but it's part of Estepona's tradition of popular cultural. events, styled as a world ham slicing contest. You can take away with you freshly sliced ham off the bone in five euro bags, or you can eat it in an artisanal baker's fresh bread roll, washed down with a local beer. How about that?

The shore was very crowded, but there were fewer people in the water, as big waves had washed up a heap of seaweed, and people had installed themselves higher up the beach behind it. The local council isn't yet on top of this problem. Malaga apparently has an influx of jellyfish at the moment.

I watched an interesting documentary programme about the partition of India in 1947, featuring people whose parents had fled with their families to Britain, returning to look for the homes they had been driven out of. It contained some touching stories. This is a part of British colonial history about which little is known, full of violence and wickedness. Did it have to happen like that? It's a story that does nobody any credit, neither religious nor political leaders, nor the colonisers,

Post covid catch-up

I woke up early and as it was on my mind, I drafted a wedding anniversary blessing service for a couple I'll meet for the first time at San Pedro this Friday. Fortunately. I have easy access to my liturgical archive files on-line, and I enjoy adapting old material for use in a new situation.

I collected Patricia after breakfast to drive to the coffee morning at Sabinillas. There were only four of us, many people aren't around at the moment. It was cool and cloudy early on and there was a haze over the sea, which made me wonder if my eyes were worse than usual. We stayed for less than an hour, and on the way back did the weekly grocery shopping at Mercadona. Patricia shops for herself and for Rose, as it's a big hassle for her to shop unaccompanied in a wheelchair. Getting someone else to shop for bulk items is preferable for her. When she ventures out with her little car and wheelchair, she likes to be as independent as she can, but that rules out any heavy lifting.

It was time to cook another dish that will last me several days when I got back. I bought some celery, as I remembered an Florentine sugo recipe I saw on a telly cooking programme. Finely chopped onion, carrot and celery cooked in oil before adding tomatoes and mushrooms, or whatever. I wonder if I cooked it for long enough as there was a certain crunchiness about the result, thought this wasn't unpleasant. It'll get some more cooking tomorrow. Great with pasta, meat or fish. Great to experiment.

The one thing I forgot on this morning's shopping list was soya milk, so I had to walk to Carrefour and get some before my sunset stroll along the shore. An email came in about a Christening on my last Sunday here, so before settling down for the night, I responded to the request - another instance of a family catching up on essentials post covid. It's lovely to think these things still matter to some parents, given the drastic decline in Christian adherence across Europe this past forty years.

Dos Gardenias

Another humid day, although a little cooler. I spent the morning at my desk, preparing things for next Sunday when I have a Christening at the first service. A different sermon is required for each service, so I need to write separate ones. That's OK, I have plenty of time. I also had next week's Morning Prayer email from Ruth a day early, which needed considering, and there was this week's to complete and upload ready for Thursday. Enough to keep me from getting bored!

Again, during my afternoon walk down to the port, I chatted with Clare on WhatsApp, and then went to Carrefour to get some bread, as I ran out this morning. Later in the evening after supper, I strolled along the Senda Litoral. In the garden of a big hotel, I could hear a woman with a decent voice singing 'Dos Gardenias' to what I think was a backing track rather than a live band. It sounded lovely in the hue of the setting sun, but it took me ages tot remember what the song was called. I wonder if there's singing here every night? I must check before Clare comes, a there's a small area of seating nearby, overlooking the sea, very romantic.

Mozart night at the proms

Awake before the alarm again today, and  ready to leave on time to collect Patricia and drive to San Pedro for the only Eucharist of the day. Again there were thirty of us, which included a family with four young children and another family with four teenage boys, a healthy mix for an ex-pat congregation. Time at last for a relaxed coffee after the service. 

We didn't use the video projector for the liturgy and hymns today, but booklets and mission praise, plus the rite A Common Worship Eucharistic Prayer based on the ancient text of Hyppolytus, widely used with minor variation among Catholics and Protestants, because it dates back to an era before there were divisions in the western church. It's certainly my favourite. 

I was back at the  house by a quarter to one and ended up having lunch much earlier than usual. Then there were a few emails to attend to, in preparation for next Sunday when we have a baptism at San Pedro during the service. It got me started on drafting a homily for that occasion. I'll need to do a separate one for the service at Sotogrande later in the week. I had a siesta until it started to cool down enough for it to be comfortable to walk along the senda litoral, chatting to Clare on WhatsApp for ages, while she was out walking in Llandaff Fields.

The BBC Proms live broadcast tonight was showcasing works by Mozart and featured Piano Concertos 20 and 22, with Leif Ove Andsnes directing the Mahler Chamber Orchestra from the piano keyboard. It was a powerful experience, especially in the light of my recent slide video creation of the fire photos I took, using a dramatic, dare I say fiery section of number 20's second movement. He played cadenzas I hadn't heard before which gave an extra richness as well as excitement to the performance. Shall I sleep after such stimulating music?

Anniversary music making

The feast of the Transfiguration today, our 56th wedding anniversary. We have so much to be thankful for. I sent Clare an audio and a video WhatsApp message first thing. She responded with her first self recorded affort at playing Cole Porter's song 'Easy to love'. Just to see if I could, I played it back and sang an amended version of the lyrics into my voice recorder, and to my amazement it worked quite well, considering the studio conditions. We were both delighted with the result, thanks to WhatsApp and Audacity. Another ten days and we'll be together again!

It's also the 77th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, and despite the 'never again' sentiments expressed at the time there are now nine states in the world which have nuclear weapons, and tensions in international relationships in several directions are dangerously high. Nuclear weapons could get used by accident despite all the precautions we presume all nuclear states take to avoid this. All this, while global heating threatens to make the planet uninhabitable by the end of this century, due to the inability of people in power to make the necessary compromises and sacrifices to curb carbon emissions this involves. 

In the three and a half weeks I've been here, the occupants next door to the right haven't changed. They may be permanent residents. On the left side there have been at least five different sets of occupants staying for a few days at a time. This morning early I heard noises next door and for the first time, saw a young woman cleaning the terrace. It could be the house is let out on AirBnB, or maybe run by a hotel nearby for short term lets. As happens with the Oxwich Bay Hotel. I confess that I'm missing our short family sojourn there this year. We must go there for a few days this autumn. I prefer its wildness to the Costa del Sol's urban luxury. Mojácar with its nature reserve resembles Oxwich in some respects.

It started to cool down mid afternoon, so I walked down to Carrefour to buy some fruit and veg for to top up my supplies for the weekend. When I got back, and was working on a report at my desk, I had a call about a funeral service for a lady who died and was speedily cremated two weeks ago, a long term ex-pat resident living in sheltered accommodation. Originally the relatives were considering a date in September, but decided they couldn't wait that long, so the proposal now is to have a service on 21st August after the Sunday morning Eucharist at San Pedro. This is a day when I don't have to drive down to Sotogrande. So, part of the evening was taken up with putting together a service text and sending it to the next of kin for approval.

Then I went out for a sunset walk, and on the way back had a video call from Owain, who was visiting Clare. They'd been out to supper at 'La Cuina'. A nice touch on our wedding anniversary. Then, time to turn in early, for an early start tomorrow.

Shifting sand

After breakfast I collected Patricia from the bus stop and drove to the CAMEO coffee morning in San Pedro. There were just seven of us, hlaf the usual number, but then it is August when people tend to go somewhere cooler if they can. The most convenient car park is across a narrowish two lane street from the block where Cafe Tradicional is located. There's an interesting pedestrian crossing which you're obliged to use. Instead of button on  a post beside the crossing, there are strips of motion sensing lights embedded in the pavement approach to activate a change in the traffic lights. The strip is red when the traffic is flowing, green when you're allowed to cross. You have just fifteen seconds to cross when the pavement lights turn green. No warning sound while you cross. Is this quite enough time for older slow moving pedestrians I wonder? A clever idea, but still a work in progress if pedestrian safety is taken seriously.

I cooked another large chick pea and veggie stew for lunch, enough to last me three days. Then I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer audio during the heat of the afternoon, before going for an evening walk, This past couple of weeks there's been a huge mechanical digger on the Playa Seghers, together with large sections of black piping. It was difficult to work out for what purpose the pipe was being laid in the sand. 

I've noticed that the positioning of the digger and the cordoned off work area has changed, moving east on the Playa del Cristo. I asked Patricia what was going on and she explained that sand along these beaches gets washed away by winter storms, and needs replenishing, not just for holidaymakers to enjoy, but to make a first line of defence against shore-line erosion. Then I realised the off-shore sand dredger wasn't deepening a channel for craft going to and from the port, but deployed to move sand in-shore. And this is done by pumping a fluid mix of water and stand 250m from the dredger, along the pipe line to the beach. As worked stopped for the weekend this evening there was a heap of sand on the shone next to the digger with the end of the pipeline embedded in it. Ingenious! But, a losing battle given the inevitability of rising ocean levels and more violent storms.

On telly this evening, Christopher Nolan's movie 'Dunkirk' a moving and original way to tell some of the many stories that made the defeat of the British Expeditionary force in France into an extraordinary rescue of 338,000 combatants, with the Navy's efforts supplemented by a fleet of 850 private boats over a nine day period in 1940. It finished late, but was worth watching again.

Flat out

I woke up earlier than usual this morning and posted today's Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp an hour before 'Thought for the Day' - my regular target time. After breakfast, I worked on next week's biblical reflection, ready to record later.

It wasn't too hot and there was a fair breeze, so I decided to go for a walk before lunch, and headed for Avenida Juan Carlos the other side of the port from here, where a new Ajuntamiento is under construction in what we'd call the 'central business district' in UK, where the main banks and other commercial offices are to be found. 

Walking there in the shade of side streets for the first time in the morning revealed what small shops there are in the barrios that side. In the afternoons only the supermarkets stay open, and some of the bars. a long lunch at home, or a siesta is normal and the streets are far quieter.

On the way back along the paseo, I stepped into a water puddle to cool the soles of my feet, which get very hot walking on pavements. I slipped, both feet and gently landed on my back in the puddle without hurting myself, perhaps because I was relaxed and my muscles were warmed up. Half of me was soaked as a result, quite cooling for the rest of the three kilometres I had to walk. Then I had to put all my clothes through the washing machine. With 30C heat and a wind, they won't take long to dry. 

Slipping like that was such a surprise I didn't have time to stiffen up or react, Or maybe my body remembers how to survive a sudden backwards fall into snow without getting hurt. Or just lucky. It could have been worse. One lady who herself had just walked through the same puddle asked me if I was OK in Spanish, and I was able to reassure her. Then another lady asked me in French, and I replied to her in French automatically. Makes a change from being speechless, I suppose.

When I got back to the house, I machine washed everything I'd been wearing, which took an hour, then hung out in the fierce afternoon sun, everything was dry and ready to wear in just two hours. That's a rarity in the UK. I had a snack lunch followed by a salad supper later on, as I didn't feel really hungry, and didn't want to cook. In fact, all I wanted to do was laze in front of the telly, with a succession of restoration and renovation programmes on More Four. 

Clare and I chatted for half an hour. It seems the worst of the nose and dust from number eleven's building site works is just about over. Reconstruction of the back section of the house is about to begin. All should be complete by the time we return at the end of this month.

I went to bed early, and recorded next week's reflection in the bedroom, which is probably the quietest room in the house, except when the toilet flushing tank isn't working properly, as it does from time to time for no apparent reason. It's a matter of cutting off the water supply to curb the noise and hope that it will sort itself out once the water supply is restored. Like the one in the downstairs loo at home, such a nuisance.

Spotlight on Estepona's lighthouse

Another humid day with mist on sea and sierras until the middle of the day. I worked on next Sunday's sermon, and on preparing the texts for next week's audio. I had a phone call from someone promoting a new health care facility launch locally, and understood what it was all about, but when I tried to respond to the caller, I couldn't be heard, and can't figure out whether I inadvertently muted the call or not, as there's no recognisable symbol on the handset. As for instruction manual in any language, you're joking!

I laughed when I received a TV licensing email thanking me for renewing the license. This time my email address wasn't entirely written incorrectly in upper case. It was still incorrect, but with an upper case first and last letter. What on earth is the matter with their system?

To go with a portion of the lentils with aubergine dish cooked yesterday, I stewed two chicken thighs with garlic, and risotto rice, An interesting lunch time combination of mild flavour and texture. Then I worked next week's biblical reflection, dozed for a while, then in a fit of zeal took the stuff for recycling down the hill, before setting out on my walk along the shore to the port and the lighthouse. El Faro de Punta Doncella, to give its full name. I found the history board about the lighthouse and understood the Spanish text well enough not to bother with the English alongside it. This gives me a good feeling.

Apparently the light is twinned with one of equal power in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta in Morocco, 62km away as the crow flies, across the other side of the Straights of Gibraltar. It dates from 1863, but was rebuilt in 1922 to raise the height of the light from 18m to 28m above sea level. A century later on, and it's undergoing restoration to re-use ancillary buildings which once accommodated the lighthouse keeper's family as a museum.

As I was walking back, families were making their way back from the beach to their accommodation. One reluctant little boy complained at having to quit the beach early. "Ya m'aburrido" I heard him say to his mother (I'm bored already!). I'm amazed at how late young children stay out and play, on or near the beach, but maybe this compensates for not being able to stay out when the heat of the day is fiercest. It's good that the place feels safe enough for this to happen, anxiety free.

I found a couple of letters in the mailbox when I returned. Bills to pass on to the treasurer. It's the first mail that's been delivered in the three weeks I've been here.

When we talked this evening, Clare reminded me about the return flight tickets, which I haven't looked at since I booked them two and a half months ago. A quick search retried the flight confirmation email to forward to her. It seems that I booked us both hold baggage on this flight, and for Clare outbound. I didn't bother on the way out as I was keen to travel light and not risk a long baggage queues. It's been so hot that I could have brought even less clothing with me, since regular hand washing of everything is vital, and it dries so quickly. At the moment the weather forecast indicates that it will stay between 29-31C by day for the rest of August, and little rain if any, except in the sierras on a cloudy day, but definitely not mainly on the plain in this part of Spain.

Big Ooops

After a leisurely start with a breakfast of cooked mushrooms and tomatoes on toast for a change, (having run out of muesli), I collected Patricia and we drove to the coffee morning at Sabinillas and left the car in the coolness of the subterranean municipal car park rather than drive around looking for an on-street space. This is the worst time of year for finding a parking place above ground apparently.

Patricia told me a story about a neighbour who had been scammed after last week's fire. A salesman came around offering to install a smoke detector that would warn of impending fire and charged €300 to provide a plug in device that can be bought for a tenth of that price in a Chinese gadget shop. I also heard a story of fake officials knocking on doors claiming to be gas safety inspectors, come to test gas bombas. A fatal error to visit an all electric apartment block, however!

Coffee morning people came and went in fits and starts. There were seven of us altogether. Many more are still away or poorly. It was Thea's farewell appearance before going on a three week Saga Mediterranean cruise teaching painting. How providential she turned down a cruise leaving ten days ago, and was here accompanying her good friend Lew the day he died. Patricia and Thea were going to meet Lew's American next of kin to hand over his house keys after lunch, so I drove back to Estepona alone via the supermarket. I opted for Aldi's, at the other end of the retail park, closest to the roundabout, but then had to navigate my way around its unfamiliar layout, but found almost everything on my shopping list.

Lunch was an experiment with onion, brown lentils, aubergine and tomato puree, with leftover pasta. I was pleased with the result. Clare sent me photos of the building work going on at number eleven, next door to us at home. Building the new two storey extension requires demolition of the old ground storey first, rebuilding with load bearing walls. I wonder if this will reduce the amount of light we get in the rear of our house? Later when I was out walking, we talked on WhatsApp for ages about the dust and noise of the work next door. There are half a dozen men working flat out on the reconstruction, will they really be finished by the time we return at the end of August?

Walking back on the coast path I noticed for the first time in three weeks that I had mis-read the sign announcing that you're on it. It's senda litoral not sender littoral as I presumed. How careless.

Crossing the bridge over the rio Guadolbón I noticed there was water in the river bed again. For the past couple of weeks it's been dried out in the heat. In recent days, the Sierra Bermeja and neighbouring hills has been wreathed in cloud, and the return of surface water 20km downstream is a welcome sign for the coastal pond-life.
 

Digital suspicion

A cool breeze from the north west at the start of the day, still cloudy, but the clouds don't cover the Sierra Bermeja as they have over the weekend. After breakfast, I made a shopping list, ready for tomorrow, to be ready for a Mercadona visit, after the coffee morning at Sabinillas. Then I worked again on producing the liturgy texts for use at the altar which match the different booklets in use in the two churches - a question of cross checking the fine details. Version control - always a nightmare. 

Next Sunday we revert to using a hymn book and liturgy leaflet at San Pedro, and this is different again from what we've been using on the projector screen. Fortunately, it's the standard text of Common Worship rite A which I know by heart, more or less. More things to check out if worship is to run smoothly on a Sunday when the habitual way of doing things changes.

I had a strange email from the TV licensing authority while I was working, confirming a change in email contact address, the change being that the address I normally use was printed in upper case not lower, so I was immediately suspicious. especially when I had trouble logging in to my TV License account. 

Then it occurred to me to ask Clare if she'd found a paper license renewal in my snail mail, and then entered the account in order to pay it. And that turned out to be the reason I got an email. Now Gmail will receive any email addressed to me in upper case as well as lower, and even if the dot in the address is missing it will send it through. The system isn't perfect. I have a namesake who managed to register a Gmail address with no dot between forename and surname in the UK, despite the fact that I'd registered mine in Switzerland fifteen years ago. Occasionally, I still get my namesake's emails, without the dot in the middle.

Eventually I was able to log into the TV license account and re-affirm that the lower case version of my address is the correct one, but the confirmation of change email was still issued in upper case format. I was feeling frustrated by this - who's to know that one's account isn't being abused when a change you didn't authorise yourself takes place? 

It took me a half hour to succeed in registering a formal complaint to the Licensing Authority describing this, and reporting that unwittingly it arouses suspicion that makes the License account insecure. I'm promised a reply within a week. Let's see what they come up with to kick the complaint into the long grass, as that's what I expect to happen.

I had the pleasure of cooking and eating a swordfish steak with plain boiled veggies for lunch today. It made a change and got me into practise for when Clare comes, as that's one of her favourite dishes, a quick fry with oil, lemon and a smidge of black pepper. Perfecto!

After lunch I made a start on next Sunday's sermon, and when it had cooled down a little, I walked to the Carrefour Market to get some bananas and tomatoes, as I'd run out, and didn't want to wait until tomorrow big grocery shop. At 28C with a breeze it was pleasantly hot late afternoon. I went out again as the sun was setting for a walk along the sender littoral. It's a nice calming evening ritual , which I look forward to performing with Clare in a couple of weeks time.