Regional self government celebrated quietly

I went to bed too late last night and got up late this morning. Just as well there's no duties scheduled for today. After breakfast I listened to Jim Al Khalili's 'Life Scientific' interview with a leading ground breaking immunologist about research into the role of T-cells in the body's immune system and the impact this is having on medical diagnosis and treatment. It was fascinating.

Meanwhile, I was fiddling with my phone and spotted a photo of the plant I puzzled over yesterday, which led to the discovery that it's called African Wood Sorrel or Sourgrass. It's not an indigenous plant of Andalucia but an invasive species from South Africa that spreads through proliferation of its root system. At least this gives a reason why it's not listed among native species. There are hundreds of variants of this plant, some of them are edible, others not. Well, it's nice to know.

Today is 'El Dia de Andalucia' celebrating autonomous regional government in a federation of provinces - Huelva, Sevilla, Cádiz, Córdoba, Granada, Málaga, Jaén, and Almería. It was voted into existence in 1980, after Franco's death, bringing devolved government as in Wales, Ireland and Scotland, affirming regional identity with its own flag and anthem, music costumes, fiesta, plus today's bank holiday. No wonder it's quieter with less traffic on autovia this morning.

After lunch I walked to Los Boliches then all the way to the Plaza de España and the Ayuntamiento on the other side of the town centre, checking on the way to see if anything was happening to celebrate this day, but there weren't. It was like an ordinary Sunday, with people relaxing and chatting over a meal or taking a leisurely paseo. 

Then I decided to find out where the town's Lux Mundi ecumenical social centre is located. I remembered it was in a side street, not far from the Plaza de España. With help and instructions from Google map app, I found it, and should now be able to find my way back there. It's strange that only a few days ago I was at the end of the street where the building is, but with my back to it, looking at an interesting housing project built around an enclosed courtyard with restaurants and shops at ground level, no vehicle access, but parking underground. OK if you don't mind a place where other residents aren't at all far away.

I walked back to the station to take the train back to Los Boliches, as I was beginning to tire. Another evening of exchanging messages with Martin in Egypt now after a spell in India, a chat with Clare and this week's Morning Prayer email from Ruth to expand into a ready to read text. Then, more time spent reading before bed.

Flower mystery

With nothing scheduled for today, I decided to sleep for an extra hour, or at least to relax semi-conscious until the sun appeared above the neighbouring rooftops and lit up the house. It's still chilly, 9C until the afternoon, when it rose to 17C, though with wind chill it felt colder all day. I took my time over breakfast and prayers, listened to a discussion by some leading economic thinkers talking about the macro relationship between capitalism and democracy. 

They looked at the need to rethink global future economic aims, now the world's survival is threatened by climate change. We're in such dire straits because of uncontrolled greed for growth from exploiting the earth's resources without honest consideration of the consequences. Where do we go from here? It was an interesting conversation with some agreement on future approaches, but no real consensus about how to go in the direction we urgently need to.

A grocery top up trip to Mercadona before lunch, where I bumped into Craig and his wife from church also out shopping. We were all taken by surprise. It's rare to meet someone you know in a supermarket in a foreign land! I found a thick tuna steak at a discount in the fresh fish cabinet. I fried it for a few minutes in olive oil and lemon, with a spud, a carrot and pieces of broccoli. It was perfectly cooked and delicious.

Afterwards, I looked at next Sunday's readings to consider what sort of sermon subject I could work with, and made a false start by failing to realise that my file had an incorrect first reading. Never mind, another try later on.  I went for a walk over the hill down to the Mijas road, and walked along the footpath down the Arroyo Real riverside park and back, trying to identify some of the wild flowers and take photos of them. There's a variety of species in open stretches of land not yet built upon, but one kind in particular which is everywhere in huge numbers, buttercup yellow, whose name I have yet to find against any photo on the internet.

It seems to open up in response to bright sunlight and close again when in shade, but I could be wrong about that. May be it only opens at the end of its development cycle and then doesn't last for long. It's also hard to take pictures of as it's light and moves with the slightest breeze, and autofocus with my long lens doesn't work so well on a small subject at close range. So this is my best shot so far.

In tonight's news, UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak has negotiated amendments to the Northern Ireland trade protocol with the EU. Political opinion seems largely in favour of what's known of the agreement. In the end however, if the DUP reject the settlement, it's back to negotiations. In effect the party has a power of veto and it's produced a political stalemate making Northern Ireland ungovernable for several years. If Ulster folk of all shades get fed up enough of this status quo, the DUP may find its share of vote reduced to the point where the part is powerless at the next general election. 

After supper, I talked with Clare, then listened to 'The Archers', and uploaded the day's photos before settling to read until bed time. 

February Beach Sunday

I woke up before the alarm at seven, had breakfast, packed my bag for the morning's duties and was out of the house on my way to Calahonda by twenty to nine. There were seventeen of us this week. 

We had two Scandinavian visitors, and their accent made me think they were Swedish so I asked, and was told they were Finnish from a northern region bordering on the Arctic Circle where Swedish is usually spoken as well as Finnish. 

Sara told me later, when I queried her about it, that Swedish speaking Finns speak Swedish in a clearer purer way than Swedes do, influenced by how Finnish is spoken, every consonant and vowel pronounced. Fascinating. An elderly couple arrived as others were leaving and asked about the church and they spoke Italian, and said they were from Rome. I did my best to recall some basic Italian to speak with them, but Spanish kept getting in the way, but they seemed to understand anyway!

I then drove up to Alhaurin, and this time didn't get lost en route. We were fourteen altogether. I went to the village cafe after the service for a drink before driving down the hill. A Mancunian in the group spoke about how he and his wife met and married back in the seventies. He was a consummate story teller with brilliant comic timing. His tale and his style reminded me of listening to an Alan Aykbourne monologue. When I reached home well after two, I found the car had lost a front hub cap since I left this morning. I've no idea how or when. I've been careful to avoid pavement kerbs and potholes since the disaster of losing a tyre on my first Sunday here. I didn't see that coming.

I cooked some  chorizo to add to the second portion of vegetables I cooked yesterday, and succeeded in setting off the smoke alarm. I couldn't make the cancellation button work, but as soon as I switched on the cooker hood's fan it stopped thankfully.

Afterwards I walked down to church to deposit the collection money from Alhaurin in the church safe and then went for a walk along the shore. By the time I reached there the entire promenade was in the shadow of all the high rise hotels, although the sun was two hours away from the horizon. A rather self defeating architectural layout really. Anyway the sun was still there on the sand, and there were family groups sitting out together. Six separate beach volleyball courts had been set up and were being played upon by groups of youngsters. 

It's the first time I've so many young people out and about enjoying life here, as opposed to working in bars and restaurants. For the most part, the Paseo Maritime is occupied by the over sixties and a handful of young families. This weekend it's been mild enough to populate the beach, for at least part of the day. Rain was expected earlier this week, but there's been none. Amazing when you think this is the last weekend in February.

Before supper, Clare and I chatted, then I settle down for several hours of reading before it was time for bed.

Storm impact

A bright sunny day but just that bit colder with a chilly breeze. After breakfast I made the video slide show for next Thursday's Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube. Then I worked on a homily for next Wednesday's Eucharist to go with the Bible Study texts. Another morning of productive work. 

Then I printed off Sunday's sermon and a copy of the Eucharistic Preface for Lent to carry with me in a larger print altar booklet. I should have done this last week, but forgot. I find it quite difficult adjusting to weekly service text leaflets rather than having a proper Common Worship book to use. The print size may be OK for use hand held reading in the pew, but not hands free at the altar. 

I don't like using pre set service leaflets as the selection someone else has made from available alternatives may not be the same as mine, and not so useful in teaching based on the liturgy. I have to make the best use I can of them and keep an eye out to ensure that I have the extras which aren't in the leaflets provided.

I cooked a veggie mix that'll do for today and tomorrow, but will add in some chorizo for tomorrow, for variety and a portion of meat for Sunday. Then, I went to Fuengirola town centre by train and walked from there to the far west of town, to Castillo Sohail and the Rio Fuengirola riverside park. At that end of the bay the beach is narrower and the impact of stormy seas evident. 

One chirunguito has lost its flight of metal steps down to the sand, but another had lost its entire external concrete terrace, which had collapsed, undermined by pounding waves. It's just a hint of what's to come with sea level rise and more violent weather I regret.

I retraced my steps to the station, took the train back to Los Boliches and got back to the house at seven, just before sunset. The days are getting noticeably longer now. 

After supper and a chat with Clare, I read for an hour before packing for tomorrow and getting myself to bed in good time.

A double loss

Another mild sunny day with high clouds decorating the sky. I had a message from Clare to tell me that Marion Barnes, wife of Oswald, who died a couple of weeks ago, has also died. It's not surprising really with them both being in their nineties and together for over seventy years I think. Inseparable in death as in life. The possibilities of a joint funeral are now under consideration. God bless her. May she too rest in peace.

After breakfast, I swept the floor and put a load of washing through the machine and put it to dry on a rack in the sun on the patio. Then I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer and completed my Sunday sermon. Lunch was a convenient second portion of the veggie pasta dish, cooked yesterday. 

On the first Friday evening of Lent when I was here nine years ago there was a big Via Crucis procession through the streets of Los Boliches. I wondered if there'd be anything going on tonight, and it took me a while to find information, tucked away on one of the local cofradia websites. Yes indeed, a procession was scheduled starting after dark at eight o'clock, not locally, but at the Iglesia de San Jose on the av de Mijas in the barrio de Boquetillo not far from the train station. It seems all the cofradias of area join together for this event and it rotates from parish to parish. It may have been like that nine years ago, as it was such a big event, which I came across accidentally. I know better where to look for this kind of information now, tucked away in Facebook pages.

While it's possible to take the train and walk the short distance from there to San Jose, it would mean returning quite late. I thought about it, but realised that I don't have enough energy for that kind of extra outing. Self preservation is more a priority nowadays, so I'm fit for the purpose I came here for. Sad to miss this, but sensing my own vulnerability means accepting limits that come with ageing. Instead, I took an afternoon walk to Torreblanca and back along the Paseo Maritime. 

Clare emailed me a copy of  our digital tickets for the 2023-24 WNO operas, and complained that when she tried to print them the embedded QR codes weren't reproduced, as the information was embedded and not attached separately to the email. It's a quirk of the WNO booking system yet to be remedied. The system is geared up for the Apple Wallet app but not Google Wallet. Very remiss of them, not that I use Google Wallet! When I called Clare to say I'd extract the ticket images via a screenshot and send them back, she was in the Royal Welsh College waiting for 'Amser Jazz' to start. I listened to some of it on YouTube later, but that was after she'd left, unimpressed by the loud funk band in the second half.

After supper I settled down with my new novela 'Soldados de Salamina'. I've discovered a film based on the book was made in 2003, with a female rather than the male protagonist who narrates the story in the book. I must keep a lookout for this eventually.

New book

Awake before the reminder from my phone and posting the link to WhatsApp for today's Morning Prayer video. Another clear and sunny start to the day, and a morning mostly spent preparing text for next week's prayer offering. Then, a walk to Mercadona and back for fresh fruit and veg before cooking lunch. There are no shortages here, but British news is full of accounts of supermarket empty shelves and rationing as the regular fresh food supply chain from Spain has been disrupted by the strong cold winds earlier in the growing season, reducing the abundance of exportable fruit and veg the UK has come to rely on in years past. Hopefully this will be a wake up call for government money to back an increase in domestic fresh food production to make Britain more self sustaining, and reduce the carbon footprint from food imports.

There were service sheets and collection money to take to the church office on my afternoon walk which took me down av. Los Boliches past the book-shop which was open so I went in and browsed for something new to read. A rotating display stand full of paperback novels by Spanish authors, ten or eleven euros each got my attention. I picked up one by Gabriel Garcia Marques to look at, and realised I read it already but had forgotten. It was my first attempt to read a novel in Spanish four years ago. How time flies! 

The novel by Carola Ruiz Zafon I finished a couple of nights ago was also on display, along with others of his. I bought a book by Javier Cercas, about an strange incident in the Spanish Civil War which comes to light and is investigated by an unsuccessful novelist seventy years later. It promises to be interesting.  I then walked along the Paseo Maritime to the town centre. The sea was like a millpond. When I was passing Playa San Francisco I spotted a procession of four paddle boarders crossing the width of that surfistas paradise, which had four metre waves not so many dyas ago. 

The temperature began to drop well before the sun set, as a light chilly breeze sprang up, and clouds started gathering on the eastern horizon over the sea, heralding the return of more wind and rain soon. After dark the sound of wind gusting through the urbanizacion was audible again after a respite of more than a week.

Clare and I chatted before the Archers. Priority booking for the next season of WNO operas has opened and she's already on the case, after tickets for Ainadamar and La Traviata for this coming September. Kath and Anto will come down and join us for the former, and Ann for the latter. In order to come here, I've missed two operas this season. I felt this was an opportunity not to be missed. The lengthy vacancy could well be filled later this year, so I won't get a chance to return again. 

It's amazing it happened at all, nine years on from the first time. I'm coping well here on my own, and if I'm more nervous than I was before, that's because I'm ageing, slowing down, and the trauma of the sprained ankle has certainly made me more cautious. I don't honestly know if I'll be able to do a two month locum next year at this stage. I've had a good run and I'm most grateful for the enrichment of my retirement through the experiences I've had. Whether on not it's time to call it a day, remains to be seen. Funny, I remember thinking the same after Ibiza three years ago!

Busy Ash Wednesday

A beautiful day with sunshine, clear sky, no wind, and the temperature hovering around 20C. I rose early and sang a birthday greeting to Rhiannon on WhatsApp before getting up for breakfast. It turns out that it's also Mother Frances' birthday, and that of Craig, one of St Andrew's 'swallows' who has served me at the altar since I found out he's from the Black Country Anglo-Catholic Parish of Kingswinford, not far from Halesowen where I was Team Rector in the eighties.

Then I walked to St Andrews to celebrate the Eucharist of the day. Father William joined me, assisting at the altar and reading the Gospel. There were twenty one of us. The first Lenten bible study was scheduled for a time after people got their coffee and cake, and caught up with their friends. I distributed all the study sheets Caroline had photocopied for me, but only two people were able to stay on to discuss Psalm 51 with me. Nevertheless, it was a lively and interesting discussion for three quarters of an hour. 

I wonder if a Wednesday morning is really the best time for this, or if there is a viable alternative time. Maybe people are actually happier with reading the study material for themselves, especially as my weekly homily serves as an introduction to the session. We'll see how it develops from here.

I  was late cooking and eating lunch when I returned, but still had some time to work on Sunday's sermon before driving up to Alhaurin for the second service of the day at six, for which there were eleven of us. We sat on benches arranged in a semi-circle in front of the altar. It works nicely for a small number of people. The microphone that's needed when there's a much larger congregation had to be disconnected as the connecting cable's insulation had fractured, leaving the device intermittently making a loud distracting buzz. Just as well we didn't need it.

The sun had just set as I drove down the switchback of a mountain highway back to Fuengirola on a forty minute slow journey, not just thanks to speed limits but my own caution. I had forgotten quite what a steep and winding road this is. It will take several more trips up and down the mountain. Alhaurin el Grande is a thousand feet above sea level. By the time you reach Mijas Golf course on the maritime plain, to follow the rio Fuengirola to the coast, your ears are popping. I was quite tired when I reached the house, just in time for the Archers and supper, and needed a half hour's walk afterwards to stretch my legs and clear my head. 

Ashley called as I was setting out and we chatted as I strolled. Then I called Clare and found she was still chatting with people at St Luke's where she'd gone for the evening Eucharist. We talked again later when she got home, and I heard reports of the current discussion about the desirability of welcoming a church planting expert to establish a base at St Luke's to work on fresh initiatives in ministry to young people. Evidently there are fears there will be a takeover of the building that will lead to a complete loss of its Catholic Anglican heritage, much as happened to St Teilo's under Bishop June. I feel confident Mother Emma is capable of negotiating a compromise agreement and sticking to it, as long as Bishop Mary is equally clear about supporting this. 

St Luke's has a century of Anglo Catholic urban missionary history behind it, but is much depleted and won't be able to pay its way much longer. During the pandemic the building was shared with one of Cardiff's two Romanian Orthodox congregations. This no longer happens, but it showed what's possible with a modicum of good-will on all sides. I wonder what kind of research has been done to establish  there's a need and an opportunity to be taken in this part the city. 

Evangelical outreach initiatives can and do attract people to form an eclectic congregation. As St Luke's did in its heyday. The Victoria Park area isn't the easiest place for parking at the best of times even if it is well served by buses. At least St Teilo's is well placed in a largely student area, across the railway tracks from the University Campus. Can the same be said to exist in Canton as it rapidly gentrifies? It's true there's a growing number of first time home buyers and young families in the vicinity, which the church needs to reach out to in order to secure its future. This is a moving target however, as turnover in jobs and the housing market don't necessary result in longer term commitment to this local church. It's a big and risky decision, for the host community and for those behind the initiative under discussion.

Quiet Shrove Tuesday

The sky was cloudless when I woke up, but slightly dull. As the sun rose higher early mist cleared and it became warm and bright, with no wind. When  the sea was completely calm for the first time since I've been here. A perfect late winter morning, even if it is several weeks earlier than usual. Spring Equinox is still a month away.

On BBC Radio Four's programme 'The Life Scientific' after the nine o'clock news, Jim Al-Khalili said he was broadcasting from a science conference at the Pierhead Building in Cardiff Bay. He interviewed a Cardiff University astrophysics professor called Hilary Gomez, a leading world expert on cosmic dust. She was born into a poor working class family on a housing estate in nearby Barry, a bookish child who took refuge from a noisy family home in the local library, left home at seventeen and supported herself through Cardiff University, working at night in a petrol filling station. 

Her 'A' level and degree grades were not exactly stellar, but it was clear she had the makings of a researcher and embarked upon a PhD investigating how cosmic dust is formed and contributes to the evolution of the universe. Her theoretical models of the origins of the dust in supernova events met with much academic criticism, but when put to the test by findings from the Herschel Space observatory, her discoveries proved her to be correct and led to one of those paradigm shifts in science thinking, which I recall learning about as a second year undergraduate in Philosophy of Science classes sixty years ago, when the very phrase 'paradigm shift' had not long entered the language. Her story was a wonderful testimony to triumph over adversity through the love of learning at several levels.

I went down to meet Caroline for a chat mid morning. We sat in the cafe next to St Andrew's Church for our catch-up conversation and getting ourselves ready for Ash Wednesday and the Lent course. She's been very busy managing much of the chaplaincy admin with Jen over the past few years, as she did during the previous vacancy, having said previously "Never again!" She truly has the good of the community at heart. The cafe is a Finnish establishment, offering favourite pastries and selected dishes from home. Everyone around us was speaking Finnish, not Spanish or English. It made a change. I went for a short walk along the Paseo Maritime before heading back up the hill for lunch.

To clear more space in the Google photos account, I attempted to download a huge 2.5GB archive of photos taken over three three months spent with the Málaga chaplaincy at this time of year in 2018. The download kept failing due to slow internet speed, no matter what I did to tweak computer settings to prevent it going to sleep and dropping the line. I tried downloading two fifths of the photos and this was successful, but the battery drained before completing the task. I hope this doesn't mean the charger is dying on me. 

The next door neighbour asked me to move the car forward so he could get his car out of his car port. Another car parked just beyond the front of this house didn't allow me much room for manouver when I was parking last night unfortunately, but doing this reminded me that the screen wash bottle needed to be topped up. I had to read the car manual to find out where the car bonnet release lever is placed, as it was almost invisible beneath the steering wheel. Last night I cleaned the car windows, but then there was a brief spurt of rain, laden with yellow dust blown in from the Sahara, so I had to clean all the windows again, hoping there's not more dust to come.

I read another chapter of 'Principe de la Niebla', then went for a walk before supper, and then returning to finish off the book, while I wait to see if the laptop will charge until full. An unexpected annoyance. In the end by transferring the charger and laptop direct to a wall socket, it did charge fully. Using an extension lead isn't a good idea here, but often necessary are there are fewer wall sockets available in comparison to a contemporary British household.

I had no desire to go out this evening and look for Mardi Gras celebrations in Fuengirola town centre. I don't need a late night with two services and a bible study to take tomorrow.

Early long distance call

I'm now waking up just before sunrise. Good. As I was saying Morning Prayer sitting in bed, the St John's Gospel reading was interrupted by a WhatsApp video call from Martin, staying in a guest room by the beach in Pondicherry, South India. Such a surprise! He had just received news of an investigation into his un-necessary surgical treatment, the result of mis-diagnosis by an expert. He now has independent confirmation of what he learned before. With this, a significant compensation claim can be made. Chris is visiting his parents in Canada and just gone to bed, so Martin chose to share the news with me. "Funny" he said "When I received this I wanted to call my mother. I'm sharing the news with you, as you're one of the few people who still remember her well." She's been dead ten years. I met Martin and ''Our Mam' fifty four years ago. When Chris returns from Canada, he's be going to the opera with Clare, in my place.

I re-worked my Ash Wednesday sermon after breakfast, and freed up some more space in Google photos by download seven to ten year  year old albums of relatively little interest. Then I walked down the hill to Mercadona for some additional groceries, I was unable to carry yesterday. My right ankle was unusually painful, perhaps because I'd been sitting for several hours. Only coming back did I discover a remedy for the problem, gently turning the foot slightly inwards, anticlockwise, and letting the displaced joint slip back into alignment. When I slipped on the stairs in December, the foot was wrenched the the opposite direction clockwise. It's no longer bruised and painful but there's a muscular weakness giving one sets of ankle bones a tendency to mis-align, and hurt. Perhaps now in understand what's happening I can work on strengthening the ankle and leg muscles in a different way.

For lunch, I cooked an experimental chicken madras curry, using a spice mix bought in the municipal Mercado del Carmen. I wasn't sure how much to use. Happily I got it just right. First time lucky. Then some more writing, before driving to La Cala de Mijas to visit Peter and Linda for a couple of hours. It was sunset when I set out to return from there, but first I needed to re-fuel the car, as the fuel gauge had dropped. I wasn't sure how much further it would go, probably another 90km. But you can't be sure as the first time user of a different vehicle make. I found a garage conveniently nearby and cheap, and put €20 worth of fuel in to keep me going, as I didn't have much more cash on me to spend. 

I had difficulty getting the locking fuel cap off and on again after refuelling so my hands stank of diesel. Another time I will use disposable gloves! Then another challenge, driving back to Fuengirola on a busy road in the dark. Fortunately speed limits are 80kph, and drivers well behaved, so it wasn't so bad, but it was the first time I've driven in the dark abroad, for four years.

After supper and the Archers, a chat with Clare on the phone, then an hour's fairly brisk walking, as I felt the need for exercise, have spend a fair amount of time not moving much today. Then I read for a while before turning in.

Carnaval Sunday - not

When I woke up just before dawn, I decided to make the most of having a late start in church. I put a load washing through the machine and hung it out to dry after making breakfast, then started preparing lunch, as I knew the chicken would need long slow cooking. By ten fifteen I was ready, and talking down the hill to church. We were forty three at the Eucharist and I succeeded in remembering to give Communion in their mother tongue to the Finnish children and their dad who were in the congregation.

Afterwards I chatted with a couple who were holidaying from the Poitou-Charentes region of Western central France looking out over the Bay of Biscay. They are members of the Anglican Chaplaincy named after that region, with an area the size of Wales, a network of ten worship centres served by three Readers a retired priest, plus lay worship leaders, but without a permanent chaplain for the last couple of years, just like here at St Andrew's. Impressive to think that its life is sustained mainly by a large lay ministry team. There's a lesson for us in Wales in this, short as we are of volunteer lay preachers and ministers, and still so dependent on Eucharistic worship when there's insufficient priests can be afforded to cover the need.

Having made an early start on a meal meant I was able to eat lunch an hour earlier than previously, and then get out for a walk. I walked along the paseo chatted to Clare on WhatsApp then climbed the hill back to the house. She told me about leaked news of WNO's 2023-2024 season, nothing on the website about this yet. It includes 'Cosi Fan Tutti', 'La Traviata' and a 21st century opera in Spanish by an Argentinian composer called 'Ainadamar' which is arabic for 'Fount of Tears'. It's about the life and death of Frederico Garcia Lorca - such a coincidence, having bought a book of his poems yesterday. 

The afternoon was marred by not being able to find my HX90 camera in the house. I went back to church and it wasn't there either, though I was sure I'd put it in my rucksack leaving the house earlier.  When I got back, a second search of my rucksack revealed the missing camera hiding at the bottom of a padded pocket. Light enough not to make much of a difference to the weight of the bag. What a relief!

The evening sped by reading with interest Carlos Ruiz Zafón's novela 'El Principe de la Niebla'. It's a really good yarn, written for teenagers, a dark tale of magical powers at work in a seaside pueblo. It's been a world wide best seller, as popular among adults. It's easy to follow and get the sense of, although it's full of words I'm unfamiliar with but can decode from context, unless curiosity about exact meaning calls for a quick look at Google Translate. 

Carnaval en Málaga

A fair night's sleep, waking up at seven thirty. If only I could start getting ready for bed earlier then maybe I could shift my wake up time earlier and make more of the morning when I'm not waking up to an alarm in time for church! Ending the day right seems as difficult as starting the day. Basically I still wake up at the same time as I would at home. Another cloudy day to start with but much less wind, but the sun came out and it was pleasantly warm. After breakfast I finished and printed my sermon for tomorrow and then worked on Ash Wednesday's sermon until it was time to cook a simple convenient lunch. Steamed veggies and a tin of sardines.

I caught the train into Málaga and found great pleasure in walking around familiar places in the Old Town, busier with local people shopping and socialising than with tourists. It was warm enough for outdoor bar and restaurant tables to be full of customers. A quarter of the Plaza de la Constitución was occupied with a stage and audience enclosure and a rock band was preparing to perform. Here and there in the streets I saw people in fancy dress costumes, and remembered that it's Carnavale time, with grand parades for adults and children alike. The city centre buzzed with life. I wasn't tempted to stay and watch into the evening, with a forty minute journey back to Fuengirola and a walk up the hill on arrival. Self preservation is my priority! It was great just to taste the atmosphere of expectation and enjoyment, and take photos of course!

On the way back to the Alameda station, I spotted a bookstore, and went in looking for a book of poetry, half hoping to find a replacement for the book of Pablo Neruda poems I've somehow lost at home. No luck, though I found a book of poems by early 20th century writer Frederico Garcia Lorca, who was murdered for his radical opinions during the Spanish Civil War 1936. Though born in Granada he spent his youthful summers in Málaga and wrote about it. He used to hang out at the Cafe de Chinitas by the Plaza de la Constitución. The cafe has his short poem written about the place inscribed high up on one of its walls.

 'Poema del cante Jondo' is the book's title. Cante Jondo is described as a primitive form of song native to Andalucia, brief and expressing a profound personal insight. The poems aren't song lyrics but conjure up intense moments. Great for practicing reading aloud.

A train was just pulling out of the  station as I arrived on the platform, and was surprised I only had to wait ten minutes for another. There are six trains an hour now and this weekend they're pretty full in both directions. It was seven by the time I got back and had supper. Clare and I then talked for three quarters of an hour, then I continued reading my Spanish novel by Carlos Ruiz Zafón until it was time for bed.

A great priest remembered

I woke up late under a grey sky with strong winds forecasted and a short spell of rain. It felt colder than the actual 15C. I had a productive morning. Between breakfast and lunch, I finished Sunday's sermon and drafted another one for Ash Wednesday.

The death was announced of Father John Rogers former Dean of St George's Cathedral in Guyana and in his pre-retirement Dean of Llandaff. His daughter Sarah is a priest and her twin brother Paul is a senior admin officer in the Representative Body of the Church in Wales. Sarah was medical researcher and a church warden of St Teilo's Cathays when I was Rector of Central Cardiff. Then she was accepted for ordination. I first met the family when John was Rector of Ebbw Vale back in the eighties and I was working for USPG in Wales, the organisation that sent him as a young missionary priest to Guyana, so we'd known each other for forty years, and met occasionally in retirement.

John died on the morning of Sarah's induction as Vicar of Tonypandy, after a tough five year spell as Chaplain to the Bishop of Llandaff. I'm sure he was delighted to learn of her return to parish ministry. He was the consummate parish priest, wise, calm, gentle, with a wry sense of humour. Pam, his wife, died while he was still working. She was a traditional conservate Anglo-Catholic, fervently against the ordination of women to the priesthood. If John had been originally persuaded against, evidence of his daughter's priestly calling must have helped change his mind, as he was so supportive of her. He was one of the Church in Wales' finest missionary pastors. I'm grateful to have been a colleague of his. May he rest in peace.

Clare messaged me from the bank to say that she'd transferred the deposit sum to Owain, no problem. A relief for both of us. Later Owain messaged to say the solicitors were satisfied that due diligence is done, so sale procedure for his flat can now continue, hopefully at a reasonably quick pace. It will be so good to see him settled in place of his own.

After lunch, I walked down to church to exchange the novels I read for a new one, and then walked to Playa San Francisco on the Paseo Maritime. It wasn't exceptionally windy but there were three metre waves driving relentlessly in from five hundred metres off-shore. Just one kite surfer was out, and he only managed a ten minute battering by the wind in such blustery conditions. Clare called from her paseo, out in the drizzle in Pontcanna fields as I was walking back, and we chatted until I set out to do weekend grocery shopping in the Mercadona up the hill.

A quiet evening after supper, I was settling down to read and dozed off. I didn't realise I was tired enough to do that. It's the first time in ages. I've been doing without a siesta since I arrived. This time I read my neglected Spanish novela in for a change and then went to bed. 

Post utopian retail

I woke up earlier than usual, posted today's link to Morning Prayer and said the office in bed for a change before breakfast. Before starting work on a biblical reflection and the service for next week's prayer video, I finished another Patricia Cornwell crimmie I've been reading in recent days. For my taste her stories feel over detailed and long with phrases and images repeated without moving the story forward or  leaving any space for the imagination. Worse, however is the absence of punctuation in her sentence structure making it hard sometimes to catch the actual rhythm within her story-telling. With dozens of hit best sellers behind her, perhaps publishing editors are reluctant to call her to task for this.  I don't understand why. 

After a cooking a veggie pasta dish for lunch, I decided to walk to Las Lagunas and explore what El Corte Ingles has done with their vast building, now that several floors of it are closed, and the ground floor has become a 'designer outlet' discount clothes store. I hate that word 'outlet'. In my book it belongs to a large enclosed channel for water borne sewage off shore. I wonder if marketing and PR gurus ever thought of this, or do the live in such a rarified atmosphere that it didn't occur to them? Fuengirola now has several small tiendas de ropa which are also selling discount branded fashions left over from previous years. 

I walked the length and breadth of El Corte Ingles' mega-outlet without seeing anything I'd want to wear. It's all very smart and makes good use of a big and spacious environment. All I wanted to buy was a tee shirt or a vest however. It's not exactly a dystopian environment, but definitely a post utopian product of the pandemic when scaling business down in the absence of mass tourism was vital for survival.

When I went down to the basement to inspect the hypermarket however, I was pleased to discover that as well as food and drink, it also stocks the same range of digital devices as the store in Malaga, and a section with bed linen, bed clothes and underwear, so I was able to buy a pack two of vests, which made my visit worthwhile. This underground section is so huge and confusingly laid out, that returning to the exit was a bit like getting out of a maze for a first time visitor. 

While I was surfacing from the maze, Owain rang me with a query about a file sent to his conveyancing solicitors, and then told me that progress on putting forward the deposit money and closing the purchase is now immanent. After consultation with Clare, we agreed she would transfer the deposit money from our joint account when she visits the bank in person tomorrow. Neither of us are entirely comfortable with the idea of transferring a large sum of savings via internet banking, even if it's as secure as we trust it really is. Our age, I suppose.

I returned to the house, had tea and chatted with Clare before listening to 'The Archers'. Then I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer and Reflection audio, before turning in for the night.

On the mend

I had a fair night's sleep and was grateful not to wake up with a thick head or sore throat. The virus started working in my gut instead, giving me stomach pains and much time in the toilet. Apart from this symptoms have been fairly mild. Fortunately things had settled by the time I left for the funeral at Fuengirola Crem. When I got there however, I needed the toilet again, but only once. Just as well I was an hour early getting there.

Two dozen mourners attended the service, almost all expats, most turning up at a quarter past for the half past eleven service. That's when the chapel attendants unlock the doors to let people in. There didn't seem to have been any other service before ours. I took the music MP3 files on a memory stick and on my phone, just in case. Just as well. The hi-fi system controls didn't register the presence of the USB stick, maybe due to the fact that people habitually use their phones to play music via Bluetooth. In fact, that was what the chapel attendants did, and it worked OK. I was relieved that my phone didn't play up and refuse to co-operate.

What I failed to notice however, was that both hymn texts I'd copied, pasted and printed out were short of a verse, whereas the recorded music was the full version of both, and I had sufficient control of the music app on the phone to stop it at the right time. I wasn't impressed with the quality of sound reproduction over the chapel PA system, but it didn't matter, as the congregation sang well from their hymn sheets for both 'The Lord's my Shepherd' and 'Abide with me'. The family were happy with the service and the turn-out, and so was I. After bidding them farewell, I went straight back to Casa de la Esperanza to relax and keep recovering from this bug.

I didn't feel like a cooked lunch, so I had bread and hummus made with cooked chick peas, olive oil and lemon, plus the remains of a lettuce instead. Then I walked down to Los Boliches and continued all the way to Fuengirola town centre investigating shops that I'd not noticed open before. As I passed the local Parish Church of Our Lady and Santa Ana I heard singing, and went in to investigate. Down the front a group of about forty children plus parent minders were attending what I suppose was a catechism class led by a man with a guitar. I don't think he was either the priest or the deacon I saw when I looked in last Sunday evening. It conjured up distant memories of my early ministry to Sunday School children, singing choruses with a guitar, when it was all in a day's work.

I'm on the lookout for a cap, but various ones I tried in shops I visited were too small and of the same size. All are Chinese imports, fine for people with smaller heads, but no use to me with so much hair to tuck into a cap, to prevent it getting in my face. There are lots of second hand technology shops as well as clothes stores. I wondered if I might find a cheap discounted used Chromebook, as I'm missing mine. I've only seen them on sale new in El Corte Ingles, and I'm not prepared to pay that much. Apple products sell well here, but Chromebooks do not seem to have made any impact on the computer market, sad to say.

I caught the train back. Clare called as I was reaching the top of the hill, and we talked for a long while until it was time for 'The Archers'. Recent episodes have been quite interesting, exploring in detail the impact of bereavement on different members of the same family. 

After another light meal, I read for a couple of hours again, before attempting to get to bed earlier. I find it hard to break the habit, even when I'm tired.

Zoom failure

When I woke up this morning, I sang a modified version of 'My Funny Valentine' into WhatsApp and sent it to Clare. My vocal chords were unusually congested and it signalled a day of feeling slightly under the weather, headache and 'flu like symptoms, though it didn't worsen seriously, or prevent me from going down to Los Boliches later in the morning, but first, after breakfast, I converted each week's bible study notes into print ready pdf files for circulation, and sent them to Caroline in preparation for this afternoon's monthly chaplaincy ministry team meeting. 

It was due to take place at four. Unfortunately, Caroline who organises the Zoom conference call, was in the process of welcoming people and suffered total internet outage, affecting the whole of her area. She had to drive down the street to get full mobile phone coverage in order to phone John and get him to re-convene the meeting and take charge. Another casualty of wi-fi calls from smartphones in an area with poor mobile coverage. The demise of landlines may give us cheaper if not free calls, but has created a vulnerability nobody needs. Anyway, it was four thirty by the time we got started, unfortunately without Caroline. It was too cold for her to sit outdoors in the car for a lengthy call in a place where she had a decent 4G signal.

I didn't want to bring two computers with me, but regretted not having my Chromebook with me for video calling, It was necessary to bring my Windows laptop, but this one has placed its camera at the centre of the top line of function keys, so it's looking up at the user. This makes it hard not to look as if you're looking somewhere else when you use it, which isn't much good when you are actually paying attention to other participants. I tried propping it up on books, but it's impossible to get it to stay at a natural angle. Maybe I'll use my phone next time round instead, mounted in the little phone clamp that I brought with  me.

Then I took a late afternoon walk over to the Mijas road to check out two supermarkets side by side near to the Los Sanitarios roundabout. One is an Aldi, the other is called 'The Food Co' which carries a standard Tesco logo on the side. This I was especially curious about. As the name suggests it's a supermarket that specialises in British products, not all of which are Tesco own brand, but a variety of familiar imported products - jams, beans, tomato ketchup, breakfast cereals etc. I was interested to see that neither this store or Aldi offered alcoholic beverages as they would in UK. That may be due to the stores finding it not worth bothering to obtain a license for these. British ales and a huge variety of wines and spirits are on sale everywhere.

I spent the evening lying low with a book until bed time, hoping this lurghi won't take a turn for the worse overnight. The only task that remained was to print out hymn sheets for tomorrow's funeral and an order of service for myself.

Family meeting in L.A.

A domestic start to the day with a small load of washing to do after breakfast, before drafting a sermon for next Sunday, and preparing MP3 files of the music to be used for the funeral on Wednesday. Then lunch with the second half of the chicken dish I cooked yesterday and then a trip to the Mercadona for groceries. It was teatime before I went for a walk to the far end of the urbanizacion de la Loma, where ends looking out over the valley through which the AP7 autovia to Marbella runs.

It's an estate mostly of private houses behind walled gardens. Many have customised plaques announcing the first name of the owner - there's a casa de abuelos, a casa de Maria, and so on. The plaques on some properties don't give the name, but hint at the identity showing a symbol. I noticed an image of Ganesh on one gatepost, Thai design on another, and Arabic design on another.

My ankle started playing me up, probably because I wasn't as warmed up by activity from sitting around for much of the morning, so I didn't walk as far as I usually do before returning. On the way back I noticed several small groups of birds flying together towards the coast, with their slow wing movement suggesting they weren't small birds. Closer scrutiny of one group flying past revealed them to be egrets, which tend to fly inland to feed by day and return to roost near water in the evening. I saw a single egret the other day on the beach foraging near a storm drain outlet, an early arrival on the evening commute.

I chatted with Clare before supper and then had a call from Rachel, as she was on her way out of Los Angeles to the freeway that would take her back to Arizona. She made the seven hour drive there to spend the weekend with Rhiannon and her friend Lauren, who are there to attend a fortnight's course at the Stanislavski School of Method Acting for movie students. Amazing to have such confidence to go there unaccompanied for the fortnight before her 19th birthday. Rachel had a most enjoyable weekend being auntie and showing them around LA in her car.

A couple of hours of reading, then bed.

Following the Arroyo Real

I finally woke up following a spell of dreams and light sleep when the alarm sounded. Nothing memorable but slightly bewildering, because in each I was much younger than my present age. More than that I can't remember. I was driving to Calahonda by ten to nine, in good time to prepare for the Eucharist and greet people. There were just ten of us this morning. Churchwarden Jen wasn't there as she felt unwell John her husband was due to officiate later at Alharuin.

I got back to Los Boliches for the Eucharist at a quarter past eleven. We were thirty five of us altogether. After the service I met a lady from Bargoed in the Rhymney Valley back home, near Pengam, where I attended Grammar School. I chatted with the Finnish dad who comes with his wife and two children, and got him to teach me how to say 'The Body of Christ' in Finnish, so I can give the family Communion in their mother tongue. It's 'Kristkusen Roomis'.

It was quarter to two by the time I reached home and started cooking lunch, and getting on for four by the time I went out for my daily walk. I went up the hill behind the house and down a lane which goes down to the road that leads up to Mijas Pueblo. Nine years ago, this was a route I'd take if I was going up there. Now there's a new dual carriageway link road from the entrance of our urbanizacion to the Mijas Road and over the hill a new urbanizacion. On the roundabout at the road junction is a statue of someone in working clothes, of indeterminate gender I think.

The inscription on each side of the base reads 'A los sanitarios / A las Sanitarias'. Google translate could only offer a literal translation, but a web search revealed that the statue, dating from August last years honours all those health workers who clean and make safe places we inhabit, both public and private, in particular acknowledging their contribution during the pandemic. I like that.

On the far side of the roundabout run an arroyo, called the Arrroyo Real. It's been built up to serve as a storm drain to take rain water from the sierras above to the sea. It crosses under the main road and where it emerges there's a footpath that follows the watercourse for a kilometre, running past a strip of green parkland, under the N340 and then through a long broad culvert beneath the recinto ferial and railway line down to the sea. 

There were hundreds of people gathered at the top end of the recinto ferial socialising, family groups and individuals. It seems there was a bikers' rally going on, to judge by the number of leather jacketed bearded men and a considerable number and variety of motor bikes in beautiful condition with gleaming chrome and polished leather seats. Most of the area of the recinto ferial, which translates as fairground, was quiet. It's really a huge outdoor gathering place, where the weekly market happens, where camper vans may park legally, either overnight for for an idle season, where fun fairs, circuses and fiestas may happen. The streets running the length and breath of this multi-purpose zone are lined with club houses belonging to professional, sporting and social organisations, and interesting showcase for Fuengirola's range of community organisations.

I made my way down to the sea front, where strong wind makes its presence felt though it's 18C today. All this week sand has blown off the beach on to the paseo maritime, on times requiring a machine with an earth moving bucket on the front to reduce the volume of accumulated sand. Beach entrances have been cordoned off, maybe to deter people from going closer to breaking waves, maybe also because the accumulated sand would make access difficult for someone on wheels or unsteady on their feet. It won't deter those agile enough to climb over the low retaining wall, but it's a way of flagging up that things are not as normal as they usually are. 

This afternoon is the first time I've seen council workers out with brooms and shovels, accompanied by a truck. Not only is there sand to shift, but loads of vegetation torn from palm trees and grasses, littering the road and pavements. As it's a Sunday and the wind isn't as fierce as it was earlier in the week, more people are out taking their paseo and the public realm needs to be as clean and safe as possible, even if it is a losing battle until the wind dies down. In our urbanizacion the wind has torn down some branches and scores of unripe carob pods from the algorrobo tree half way down. It struck me the pods resemble the judia plana I wrote about yesterday. I don't know if there's any direct relationship between the tree and the bean plants, which grow on a vine. The pod device is a means for both to propagate their seeds.

This evening after supper and a chat with Clare, a couple of hours reading before bed. Not watching any telly is quite relaxing really, no matter what I miss.

Feats of daring on Playa San Franciso

After several rough weather days this week, the wind strength dropped overnight and the cloud cover dispersed. Only when it rained heavily midweek was the cloud cover as low as it usually is in Cardiff. On very windy days the cloud cover has been higher. Generally it's been less gloomy than at home, but the return of the sun is welcome, penetrating the house and warming the lounge in the morning, so heating isn't needed. Something to enjoy while it lasts.

After breakfast I completed and uploaded next week's prayer video and edited my Sunday sermon. Lunch consisted of the second portion of chicken in a sauce cooked yesterday with potato, carrot and judia plana, which Google translates as 'flat bean'. It's a variety of long broad bean pod harvested before the actual beans within grow to maturity and the pod becomes stringy, a favourite veg of mine when I'm in Spain.

Clare and I chatted after lunch. She recounted the performance of 'The Scottish Play' she watched last night at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. Set in our times with guns instead of knives and swords and Macbeth was played by an Irish actor, and scenes at the start and finish intended to make a statement about the universality and continuity of treachery and conflict in human relationships, I guess.

Then I went for a walk down to the far end of Los Boliches, aware that the wind had picked up again. The sea was as turbulent as it was on previous days, if not more so. There were no surfers waiting for waves in the waters of Playa San Francisco, just too dangerous for sensible people I thought. But not for kite surfers however! 

Three of them took maximum benefit from the cross wind traversing the bay, to drive their surf boards across the top of three metre high waves, occasionally being lifted from one to fifteen metres into the air before hitting the sea again and only rarely going under rather than continuing to surf the waves. Amazing to watch. Like snowboarders who fly high riding the half-pipe or a downhill obstacle course, their confidence and control is very impressive. I can't imagine how they achieve such athletic excellence without paralysing or killing themselves.

On the return leg, I stopped to buy some toiletries at the large Los Boliches Mercadona on the ground floor of a huge apartment block. It's like a maze inside with many different sections. Then I stopped at the smaller Las Salinas Mercadona down the hill, to buy a stick of pan rustico. I bought one a few days ago for a change from half-rye sliced bread I usually buy, and enjoyed the flavour. Made of strong white flour, it's more substantial than its French or British equivalent. 

The air temperature today was decent fourteen degrees, but the strong wind was chilling, and when I got back I felt like cooking something to warm me up. The pan rustico  went nicely with a tapa I invented for supper, of spicy chorizo chunks, fried in olive oil with garlic, cherry tomatoes and sliced mushroom.

Finally, I listened to Janacek's opera 'Jenufa' on Radio 3 while writing and editing pictures uploaded when I got in. Then an hour's reading before turning in for the night, feeling the benefit of so much fresh air, sun and good food.

Costa de Viento indeed!

Another windy night followed by a grey, windier day with gusts from 30 to 60mph. I spent the morning preparing an order of service for next Wednesday's funeral, and after cooking and eating lunch, drove to St Andrew's to join in the first hour and a half of an afternoon of board games with added British High Tea. Despite the terrible bluster conditions, over two dozen people arrived to join in, pleased to have a normal opportunity to socialise after the disruption of recent years.

The church building is on the ground floor of a ten storey corner block and it really got buffeted hard by the wind, so much so that some of the closed external aluminium window blinds rattled themselves loose of their tracks and gradually began to disintegrate. Two complete blinds were lost, torn apart strip by strip as they came out of their tracks both sides flapping like a flag in the wind. Habitually the blinds are left lowered, to deflect the sun, as for much of the year it can over-heat the church. In windy spells they need to be left rolled up, but it wasn't thought of in good time.

I left at three thirty to drive to Calahonda and visit the bereaved mother and daughter, living in a gated complex of apartments with its own garden and pool overlooking the sea. I was nervous about driving in such a strong wind, but this posed no problem. For hundreds of metres off shore the sea was a white mass of boiling foam, with huge waves breaking a kilometre offshore. It looked terribly threatening, but for the moment the complex is twenty metres or so above the beach. Things may be different where the weather is extreme once the sea level rises, I guess.

The family are from Glasgow, having settled here over twenty years ago. Both mother and daughter had strong accents, and it was difficult to understand what they were saying on times. Anyway, I gave them copies of the proposed order of service and they seemed happy within. The son isn't arriving until next Tuesday. He's going to give a tribute to his dad. The choice of music has been left to me. I have some ideas to check out, and suggest to them over the phone.

On the journey back to Fuengirola, there didn't seem to be a huge amount of traffic, but it seemed to be flowing less freely than usual, and I wondered why. When we reached the rocky promontory at El Faro I realised. There's a stretch of highway beneath which beach turns into a narrow rocky outcrop and the sea runs right up to it. The driving East wind dashed the waves against the outcrop, throwing water high into the air, and the wind then blew it over the eastbound carriageway which was wet and intermittently covered with sea spray. Unusual conditions in which nobody was interested in taking any risk.

After I reached home and had a drink, I decided to get some exercise. Cautiously I made my way down the hill to Los Boliches, to call at St Andrew's and collect a new crime novel to read before strolling down the main street. As it was getting dark, it was nice to see shops lit up and open for business. Back at the church, another shutter was being shredded on the side of the building facing head on into the wind.  It looked as if the whole window and frame might be blown in so two long poles had been propped against the frame and secured in place with tables pushed together. I wonder what it will look like in the morning? Especially if the wind continues.

I made my way uphill, back to the wind this time, a little less hazardous, and made it back to the house without incident. Here in the quiet living room, warm now I've mastered the air blown heating system, the wind moans and howls outside. Time for a read now, and then bed.

Surf's Up!

As soon as I was awake this morning, I posted this week's Morning Prayer link to Whatsapp, then spent a couple of hours recording and editing audio for next week's video before lunch. Then, a call from Caroline about a funeral next Wednesday morning at Fuengirola Crem at 11.30. Fortunately, Fr William is booked to take the Communion service, so there'll be no pressure on me to rush from one to the other. No sooner had I finished the call with Caroline than the funeral director rang and gave me contact details for the widow of the man who died. She was still at the hospital, so I had to wait until late in the afternoon to call her.

After eating I walked down to Fuengirola Puerto along the Paseo Maritime. There was a strong breeze, but the wind was just warm enough to make it pleasantly bracing. The waves rolling into the Playa San Francisco by the port wall were enormous, and the water hosted dozens of surfers making the most of the surf, a spectacular sight. I took the train back to Los Boliches, and stopped at Mercadona on my way back up hill for a second lot of groceries to see me through this week.

On return, I called Alice the widow of the man who died and have arranged to visit her in Calahonda tomorrow afternoon. I chatted with Clare before supper, as she was going out early to a choir practice. Then I called Jen to ask about arrangements for music at Fuengirola Crem, as things may have changed since I was last here. Well, not much as it turns out. Her husband John told me that it's simply a question of bringing your choice of music on a USB stick, and briefing the funeral director to bring his device to play it on. This I can achieve when I meet Alice tomorrow.

The rest of the evening was taken up with uploading just eighteen photos taken this afternoon of surfers and wild sea. Slow internet uploading makes for a lot of machine minding unfortunately. Our internet at home is expensive and set to get much more expensive, but as it's much faster, it's worth the cost.

Free ride

The torrential rain began to ease by the time I had breakfast and got myself ready for church this morning. I was grateful for a large black brolly in the hall stand when I left as it was still doing more than drizzle. The streets were awash as I walked down the hill, but I arrived without being soaked through. There were six of us for the Eucharist, and we prayed for Joan whose funeral as being attended by some regulars just as our service ended. Three others turned up as well, for coffee and a chat afterwards, defying the extreme weather. I bought a card with a photo of St Andrew's stained glass east window in the sanctuary to send to Marion with a message of condolence. I wrote this when I got back for lunch, and posted it on my way out afterwards.

I took the train into Malaga for the sheer pleasure of a free ride and went to El Corte Ingles to find out if the covid years had changed the vast department store in any significant way, bearing in mind that the one in Fuengirola's Las Lagunas has been downgraded to a 'designer outlet' discount store with hypermarket in the basement and all but the supermarket of the much smaller store in Los Boliches has been closed down. But no, the flagship city centre store is as glamorous and well stocked as it ever was. Moreover, all the surrounding road works are now complete, so it's easier to negotiate, even if the vast paved area is an empty desert of roads, pedestrian crossings little else.

Having completed my inspection of the area, I returned to Los Boliches. It was dark by the time I arrived. There was just time to get a few grocery items in Mercadona on my way up the hill and reach the house before supper, 'The Archers' and my evening WhatsApp call to Clare. Then an hour working on next week's biblical reflection, and already it's time for bed.

Monday maintenance

For the first time since I arrived, I didn't need to switch the heating on before getting up. The ambient temperature overnight was 10-11C, and as soon as the sun rises, everywhere warms up quickly to a comfortable 16-17C, and no top coat is needed. There's a heavy rain warning, but not a cloud in sight.

I swept the floors and sorted the non organic rubbish, to deposit in the basura on my way to Mercadona for groceries. Sadly my effort was wasted. There are four subterranean bins whose lids are labelled organica, just one labelled papel, another labelled vidrio (for glass) and another labelled envases where all plastic, foil lined cartons cans and un-recyclable wrappers are to be put.

Which reminds me, when I was going down the hill yesterday afternoon, I saw an old lady with a large rubbish bag standing at the pedestrian crossing and talking loudly. She didn't appear to be talking into a phone or a hands free set, as so commonly occurs nowadays. I heard a squawk, and then noticed the green parrot sitting on her right shoulder. If only I'd been quick witted enough to take a photo there and then!

I returned with an assortment of vegetables, bread and tinned fish, and cooked the defrosted chicken with onion, squash, red pepper, olives and tomato triturado - the Spanish equivalent of  Italian passata. I've seen it smeared on a tostado with olive oil by fans of a savoury start to the day at breakfast.

Jen told me that Joan, one of oldest long standing church members died early this morning. The funeral is at midday on Wednesday. Caroline and John will take the service at her request. I'm already scheduled to celebrate the ten thirty Eucharist and those unable to attend the funeral will be able to remember her in prayer just beforehand.

After lunch I walked down to Los Boliches, and hunted for a papeleria to buy a condolence card to send to Marion. In several different shops there were an assortment of cards, but all of them were cheery congratulatory ones, not a single thing suitable to send on the occasion of a bereavement. How strange! In the end I got a couple of envelopes to write a letter and bought the required stamp in a tobacco store.

As I walked back up the hill, big cumulus clouds rolled in from the west. Rain is forecasted overnight and tomorrow. Caroline is poorly, so we won't be meeting for a catch-up coffee tomorrow. I think I'll go to Malaga and visit the big El Corte Inglés to see how it's changed post pandemic.

After a chat with Clare and supper, I started work and got absorbed in writing a sermon for next Sunday, The evening just slipped away and it was time for bed.

Los Boliches Eucharist

It seemed strange not having to make the effort to be up and out of the house early on a Sunday morning. The Eucharist at St Andrew's Los Boliches is at eleven thirty. With a twenty minute walk, I didn't need to leave until ten thirty to have plenty of time to spare before the service. There were thirty eight of us at the service, making the chapel look quite full. Fr William was there and deaconed for me in his street clothes. Nowadays it's rare for me to minister at the altar with another priest. It was good for both of us I think. 

There was a glitch with the singing of a verse version of the Gloria. Having used one that goes to the tune of 'Cwm Rhondda' last week at Calahonda, I'd briefed Dave the organist thinking it was the same, not realising there's another versified version in use to a different tune 'Woodlands'. It's the one popularly used for the versified Magnificat, but in the moment I couldn't remember this so that Dave could look up the music to play it. The congregation baled us out by singing 'Woodlands' unaccompanied and lustily! 

After the service, checking the liturgical filing system of existing prepared service sheets, we found there were two sets of sheets with different tunes for the one versified version and another set of sheets for the other. As ever the devil was in the detail. The name of the tune wasn't printed on all three set, and it was in small enough print to make it hard to read at first glance. 

Jen tells me that I can be paid my dues cash in euros if I wish, as happened when I was last here. It suits me fine, as it means there's no need to buy more currency than I already have while I'm here, and it will save Clare having to do likewise when she comes out in seven weeks time.

It was two by the time I got back to the house. I'd forgotten to take the chicken I was going to eat out of the freezer, so cooked veggies with a tin of sardinillas with instead - quite tasty. Then I walked back down to Los Boliches and wandered the side streets piecing together memories of once familiar places. With a little help from Google Maps, I found the celebrated English mini-market named 'Spainsburys'. I'm quite surprised it survived pandemic closure and didn't go out of business. I'm still trying to find the location of the excellent restaurant called 'La vieja Escuela', which did go out of business. I'm curious to find out what replaced it.

Then, a walk back up the hill for supper followed by a WhatsApp call with Clare before listening to 'The Archers', and settling down to read until bed time. I'm enjoying the change of habit, living without telly so far, and getting back into the habit of reading real books, not just stuff on a screen.

West of centre Fuengirola revisited

I spent most of the morning after breakfast editing the draft I made of tomorrow's sermon at Saint Andrew's, then took a walk around the block with my Olympus before making lunch. For the second time in a few days I spotted a colourful butterfly browsing for nectar on a low lying hedge covered with equally bright coloured flowers. I was ready for it this time and was pleased with this photo I took.

First seen on the 2nd of the month, and I've seen bumble bees too. Surprising to see when it's been so cold, but there are flower trees and plants of one sort or another all year round in this part of the world.

Having finished the crime novel I was reading late last night, I went down to church after lunch to swop it for another, then took the train to Fuengirola town centre for a walk through the main shopping area and civic centre. Everything in the public realm looks beautifully well kept. Last time I was here the surroundings of the Iglesia Nuestra Señora del Carmen in Plaza de España, near the Ayuntamiento were a building site, with an accommodation bloc being added to the north side of the church, for what purpose I don't know. It's long been completed, the area is in pristine condition with a children's play area in a shady park. You don't have to stray far from the hotels and tourist venues to find yourself in congenial places where local citizens predominate.

On my way back to the station, I found Dunne's department store next to La Rampa Hotel. I think there's another one on the other side of the N340, but this one I recall from before, It's small and an awkwardly places remnant of an earlier era in retail accommodation. An up escalator but no down one, only stairs and a lift, and an awkwardly placed entrance. Anyway, I just wanted to check if they still sold gents clothing, which they do. I'll come back another day when I've decided what I actually need to buy.

I took the train back to Los Boliches and walked up the hill straight away to be back in time to call Clare at six, and give her a tour of the house via a WhatsApp video call. After supper, I printed off my sermon and listened to 'Cosi Fan Tutte' on Radio Three. What a sublime treat. Then a start on my new novel for a while before turning in for the night.

Volunteer organist recruited

Today it's not been quite so cold as it has been since I arrived, a cool rather than an icy breeze. I started to pull together the images for next week's Morning Prayer video, and realised I'd need to take a couple more to include a visual reference to my ministry here at St Andrew's, so that had to wait until later in the day. Then a car journey to La Cala de Mijas to visit Linda and Peter and give them Communion. It was lovely to be with them again.

I got back in time to cook lunch, and then went down to church to rendezvous with Dave, who's offered to play the organ for us at St Andrew's on Sunday. He wanted to practice and be briefed about the service. It seems the organ has been used rarely, if at all since covid. It's increasingly difficult to find any organist, it seems. Dave and Annette are Brits who emigrated to Canada year ago. With their children they own and run a vineyard by Lake Ontario, which they have developed from scratch, earning their living producing and selling wine. It was fascinating to chat about how they have done this between bouts of organ practise.

Afterwards, I walked down to paseo maritime, and talked with Clare on WhatsApp, before returning to Casa de la Esperanza as the sun was setting. It was just mild enough to go without a top coat, as long as you didn't linger for long - 12-14C this evening. I stopped at a greengrocer's shop on the hill to but some onions, and came away with a small box of dates for one euro as well. A nice little treat!

After supper I completed and uploaded the Morning Prayer video. It took ten times as long for the finished product to arrive on YouTube as it does at home. I need to take this into account when planning this task in future. It can't be done in a hurry. Same with photos too, slow to upload. But at least it's reliable, once its speed limitations are accepted!

I finished the day reading for an hour which ended up being an hour and a half, before turning in late again. My internal clock hasn't really adjusted to the time zone advance yet.

For best result, put washing out earlier

Considering the distance I walked yesterday, there were no ill effects and I slept quite well, but not long enough. On the first leg of the twenty minute walk to church along the av. Virgen del Carmen, there's a line of what I think are carob trees. They have purple flowers but they're still dying off. October is when they usually flower.

My rendezvous this morning at eleven' with someone  from the Jupiter building's insurance company investigating a leak in an apartment somewhere below the church. I met him at the main door and took him around to the church entrance. A group of sixteen Bridge players were busy at their game in the main body of the hall, and smiled us through when I explained our purpose.

The man in overalls took a cursory look at the new toilets, kitchen and store room, where mains water and sewage pipes are located. He warned that it may be necessary to excavate to locate the source of the trouble, although it could equally originate in one of the dozen floors above. He proposes an appointment for 9.00am this coming Tuesday, for a further inspection. I reported this to Jen in Calpe, and she's going to contact the builder who installed the toilets, as he knows the layout and may have plans the insurers have yet to see.

Yesterday over coffee at church a lady who's visiting from Canada with her husband said that he would be willing to play the organ if asked - there's no regular organist at Fuengirola. She gave me his email address on his business card but my message to him bounced back, also my text message. As a last resort, I looked up his company website and sent an email via its pro-forma enquiry page, and this seems to have worked, as now we're in touch, and I can plan a hymn rota for the rest of the month.

I did my first load of washing before lunch, and was disappointed to discover that by the time I hung it up outdoors the sun was starting to cast a shadow over the drying line. Wash much earlier in the day is the answer. It was all still damp when I took the load in before sunset. It'll have to finish drying indoors on a rack overnight.

Lunch consisted of the other half of what I cooked yesterday, enough to eat without adding rice spuds or pasta. Afterwards I went for a walk up the neighbouring Calle de la Loma which runs behind this small housing estate. It leads to a larger more spread out urbanización sprawling into the countryside towards the AP7. There's a lane leading off the main road called the Camino de Corralejos which crosses the valley and goes underneath the autovia. A mountain stream spills over the road from its gully at the side and when it exits, it dives over a waterfall into a pool two metres below, before flowing down the hillside in a ravine filled with cane grasses and bushes. Neat walls surround well kept fincas along the road but the public area outside feels neglected, unkempt.

When I got back, I was chatting to Clare when we were interrupted by my first call on the chaplaincy mobile from a funeral director who still had the last chaplain's name against the number, wanting a priest for a service in Manilva, but no local contact number. I wasn't sure if Costa del Sol West has a locum in place just now, so I said I'd cover it and took down the details. Then I enquired of Patricia Gomersall via WhatsApp, aware that she's up at Synod in Calpe right now, with out four representatives from Costa del Sol East. I learned that a new locum, Fr Alex, had just arrived and was given his contact number to pass on the details of the bereavement and the service. So pleased to hand this over to someone living much closer who can follow this through pastorally.

Clare and I resumed our conversation a couple of hours later, and when we'd finished, I read more of the novel I picked up in church until it was time for bed.

Special Offers

Another perfect blue sky sunny day, and 4C at dawn. I walked down to church after breakfast to celebrate the Eucharist with a dozen people. Several of them I remember from nine years ago, and they remember me too.  Altogether I spent five months in Fuengirola back then. At it's Candlemass we were celebrating a day early, it was an opportunity to start by speaking about life in old age and the ministries of elderly people, as nearly all of us were over seventy. I'd just turned to another theme when a young Finnish couple, regular worshippers half our age, arrived late and joined in the service. Just as well they missed the bit that's beyond their experience.

After coffee and a chat, I went and looked around the nearby Municipal Mercado de Virgen del Carmen, with all its fresh meat, fish and huge variety of fruit ' veg colourfully displayed. There's also a herbs and spices stall with almost everything displayed in bulk containers, so you can buy as much as you need. It was an opportunity to buy some Pimenton Picante which I needed, and then used when cooking a chicken breast with veggies for lunch.

My afternoon walk took me to Fuengirola Cercania metro station, having been tipped off by one of the morning's worshippers about free metro travel to Malaga, available from station ticket machines. It's part of an initiative to get people out of cars and on to public transport, started last year to ease congestion and urban pollution. Come to think of it, I've noticed somewhat less traffic on the roads around town, except maybe for an hour between five and six. The ticket is in effect a free Abona Recorrido (aka season ticket) which you pay €10 euros for up front, and lasts for three months. You can do as many journeys as you like on the C1 line to the Alameda in Malaga, and when you've done sixteen trips, your money is refunded! It started last year and been renewed until April this year. The length of my stay. An imaginative way to tackle both pollution to benefit health and traffic congestion to benefit the economy, as everything begins to rum more efficiently.

The explanation I received didn't quite cover all bases, and when I asked for help to navigate my way through the ticketing process, I asked for the wrong thing and directed to a station with a ticket office. On the walk back to Los Boliches, I stopped at the tourism office and asked if they sold what I thought I was looking for. The advisor quickly divined my error and told me what to look for, showing me on her computer screed the relevant advert for the service. Then the penny dropped, so I walked back to the station and was able to acquire the free ticket. Then I rode the train back to Los Boliches.

Near the station I spotted a charity shop that seemed quite busy. It turned out to be a 'special offer' day, with all clothes on sale at €3. I spotted a fleecy outdoor top coat, and it was just my size. I may only need it for a month until the weather warms up, then I can take it back and donate it to the same shop. 

After supper, I uploaded photos from yesterday. It took quite a long time, as the internet is a lot slower than I've got used to back home. During the upload, I prepared the texts for next week's Thursday Morning Prayer on my phone, and later recorded this and a biblical reflection already written. Then I sat and read for a while before turning in, as I'd picked up a crime novel from the church second hand book stall this morning. Needless to say I'm getting to bed later than anticipated.