Unusual discourtesy

Eleven hours sleep and the most intense allergic reaction has passed, but not over yet. After a slow morning we took the train to Málaga, visited the Mercado Atarazanas and saw the new Metro entrance nearby. The rush is on now to complete the processional viewing stands ready for Sunday evening. 

Then we walked to the port where a large cruise ship was docked along the quayside, and another at one of the several quays out beyond the lighthouse. After having a drink, I paid in euro notes and waited for my bill and change to be returned, and I waited... In the end I asked the water who served us, and waited even longer. Finally the bill and expected €2.20 change arrived delivered in 10c and 20c coins. 

I had to laugh at the impudence of the waiter! He presuming that I would go away and not bother, and then finding I was still there asking when. The weight of the change which could have been delivered in three rather than eleven coins was an unusal form of rudeness which meant he deprived himself of a tip. Had the change come back with the bill promptly he might have got the lot. Now there'll be a suitable warning on Trip Advisor about discourteous behavior from waiters with foreign tourists.

We had a picnic lunch in parque de Málaga across the road from the port, the walked into the old town and made out way back to the Alameda station for the ride back to Fuengirola.

After supper a quiet evening chatting and looking at photos and then before bed, after doing my daily Duo Lingo Spanish drill, I decided it was time to uninstall the app on both my phones. I'm bored with its role play characters, bored with its repetition and lack of any sense (not good AI, despite their claims) that it can distinguish between a keyboard error caused by tiredness or carelessness, and an ignorance based error. After using it for seven years and nearly two months it credits me with less time in use than is actually the case. Nothing's perfect, but its plethora of daily notifications, usually patronising, remind me of a sect badgering people into compliance. Not any more. Well, apart from documentary podcasts produced under the Duo Lingo brand, as these are very good and worth the listen.

Allergy strikes inconveniently

It's not often I have a stressful night's sleep, but last night was horrible. No dreams, just unable to get my neck and shoulders comfortable. It doesn't feel like a cold. I have no sore throat nor a temperature, but my nose is streaming. As the day wore on, my sinuses became congested, leaving me feeling debilitated. Clare and Ann went into Fuengirola on the train, and I followed them half an hour later on the bus. We met at a chirungito on Alberto Playa where we had lunch, then returned to the house. I must have waited half an hour for an L3 bus before giving up and walking to the Cercania station for a train. I resumed waiting for an L3 art the stop opposite the football ground to take me up the hill as I was feeling poorly, and spent the rest of the afternoon languishing on the sofa trying to recover. After a fish supper crowned by an excellent chocolate cake improvised by Clare, it was time for bed. 

Hay fever?

After last night's party, I was tired and groggy waking up. I had to leave Clare and Ann finishing a late breakfast in order to get to St Andrew's for the Eucharist on time. The arrived for the coffee hour afterwards, and then went with the other Ann to have lunch together, as I wasn't feeling too good.  I had a slight soreness at the back of my nose overnight, and a congested but runny nose developed during the morning. I think it's hay fever, after sitting outdoors at last night's fiesta. All sorts of plants and trees are starting to flower now.

Having recorded my Eucharist homily to circulate, I edited and emailed it to Caroline for distribution. Then continued working on recording and producing the Morning Prayer and Reflection video upload for Maundy Thursday while the girls were out. Then I went for a walk over the hill in search of Triple A batteries for my little voice recorder. Its batteries died just as I finished recording, so I thought it best to get new ones before I forget that I need to replace them. I found a large home furnishing store on the Mijas Road that sells batterie. Just after I left the store, Clare called to ask if I could get her some sandpaper - papel de lija - so I had to return to the store and hunt in the far recesses of the seemingly unstaffed basement level to find it. She needs this to clean old glue from the back of the loose piano keys before she sticks them on again.

When I returned, I cooked supper, slightly curried veggies with rice. After eating, I needed to stretch out on the floor as my back started playing up. I can't figure out why. It may be due to sitting outdoors last night in the cool of the evening and not moving around much. Hard to know really. It's my ninth week of locum duty and general tiredness seems to be overtaking me. Advancing age has something to do with it too.

An unusual celebration

We got up late and I made breakfast. I wasn't feeling that good, so Clare and Ann let me and went down to Los Boliches beach while I sorted myself out. I should know better, but at this time of year when it starts to get warmer and is less humid, I forget to drink enough water to compensate, and slowly the effect of dehydration creeps up on me. The trouble is that I never feel thirsty, and had to make myself drink extra. I learn a lesson which I later forget. Anyway, once I'd regained equilibrium I walked down to join them, and we had a drink and something to eat in the Granier cafe by the Mercado Municipal. 

Since she arrived and started playing it Clare's been having problems with the house piano. It's not terribly out of tune, but a third of the ivory/plastic key covers are detached from their wooden levers. Not she's on a mission to restore them to working order. She went to a Los Boliches ferreteria and bought some araldite with the aim of sticking them together. The challenge is ridding them of their layer of glue that no longer does the job. How to get rid of it is what she needs to find out next.

I cooked myself a very late lunch of past with a veggie sauce, leaving a portion for Ann at supper time, as I was being picked up at six thirty to be taken to the Cerros del Águila urbanizacion where a new street is being named in memory of Val Artachio, founder of Marbella's English International College. It's located on a hillside about five kilometres out of town, overlooking the Fuengirola river valley and the Sierra de Mijas with a superb view. A group of two dozen of of gathered, family, friends, colleagues from school including young children and one nonogenarian. A name plaque at the entrance to the street was unveiled by Val's husband, and I let the prayers of dedication which I'd prepared, wishing that I'd had time to render them in Spanish, as it was evidently a bi-lingual congregation.

Afterwards everyone went to the restaurant which is the social centre of the urbanizacion, where a long table to accommodate the assembly, had been laid out for drinks and tapas. It was a most enjoyable experience, giving me an opportunity to listen to Spanish social conversation and understand what was being said, plus an opportunity to converse in English and occasionally Spanish with a largely bi-lingual gathering. It was an unique event and experience for me, which I couldn't have imagined taking place forty eight hours ago. Val's brother and sister drove me home. After an evening of talk and drinking Rioja joven, I was so glad that I didn't have to drive.

Travel pressures

After breakfast this morning we drove to the Aldi on the Mijas road the other side of the hill to stock up on food ready for Ann's visit, more than we could carry. We didn't leave ourselves enough time to get all that we needed, as we had to take a train to the airport to meet her leaving after midday. We left in good time but a L3 bus arrived as we reached the stop. I thought we could save ourselves the walk to Los Boliches station by taking the L3 to Fuengirola and catching a train from there, as the bus ride is normally only ten minutes. 

On this occasion this turned out to be a mistake, as the bus inexplicably left its normal route half a mile from the station and took a big deviation through back streets going the far side of Fuengirola station before turning back on to its prescribed route. This took twenty minutes, and we missed a train that would have got us to the airport by one. Instead we had to wait until one for another train, so it was twenty five to two by the time we met Ann. And her flight had been twenty minutes early. What a mess! We acquired an abono recorrido for her easily enough this time, apart from the challenge of feeding two crumpled five euro notes into the ticket machine and getting them accepted.

The returning train was very full arriving at the airport, and difficult to negotiate as there were several push chairs and several more people with electric scooters and a bicycle taking up space for much of the journey, so we'd gone half way before all of us got a seat. Rather than lug Ann's suitcase up the hill, we waited twenty minutes for the L3 bus, while Clare went to Mercadona for a few things. She wouldn't wait for the bus but walked ahead, and arrived at the same time we did. After a cup of tea and a biscuit, I made a meal for us, while Clare went out again to pursue more things on her inexhaustible shopping list. 

She returned on time, just as I was ready to serve up at six, and we ate supper outdoors. It was sunset by the time I went out for a walk. I needed this as the best part of two hours spent sitting on uncomfortable bus and train seats made my back uncomfortably stiff. She also gave me a back massage with arnica cream before we all turned in for the night early, very tired.

Dedication invitation

Despite making an effort last night not to go to bed late, getting into a relaxed sleep was difficult. I woke with the alarm I'd set, but started the day feeling tired. I got to Calahonda in good time for the first of the two services of the day. There were seventeen of us present. I didn't stop for coffee afterwards as I drive to St Andrew's via the chaplaincy house to collect Clare for the service. I was glad that Peter and Linda were there to greet her, amongst others of course, but it meant I could ask Peter to read the over-long Gospel passage about the raising of Lazarus. Reading that and then preaching about it earlier took a lot of energy on a morning when I felt I didn't have much to spare.

Among the people in church after the service was José Artacho, whose wife Val had been a key member of St Andrew's when we were here last. On my first stint in Fuengirola at the end of 2013, I stayed in a flat which they owned in Urbanización Albañil for eight weeks.  In the following year Val had been part of the group which negotiated the purchase of Casa de la Esperanza and furnished it as a Chaplain's residence. As locum priest at the time, Clare and I were the first occupants. 

A year later Val died unexpected of an aggressive form of ovarian cancer. Now, some seven years later, a suburban street of new houses between La Cala de Mijas and Fuengirola has been named in memory. She and Jose were involved in founding Marbella's English International College, so naming a street after her is a form of public acknowledgement of her services to Costa del Sol residents. Jose asked if I would be willing to devise a dedication ceremony for the unveiling. I was naturally delighted to be asked, given that we'd met and worked together on the house. Val's sister is here at the moment with José for this occasion, and we agreed I'd attend and perform the ceremony this Tuesday evening. 

On the way back from church we called at the greengrocer's shop opposite Mercadona, as Clare was keen to start stocking up on food, as Ann arrives to stay tomorrow morning. Lunch of veggies with trout fillets was quickly prepared when we returned. Afterwards we walked down to the Paseo Maritime and shopped for a few more necessities in Chinese stores which were open, including a proper peeling knife, as the one from the kitchen drawer went missing before my time.

Ann from church called by at supper time with more bedding to supply what's lacking for the two beds she arranged to be delivered on Friday. The house can now accommodate as many as four guests, which hopefully will be an advantage for an incoming chaplain eventually.

Arrival

Another magnificent mild morning start to the day. Another load of washing done and put out to dry on the patio after breakfast. My sermon for tomorrow finished and printed off. Supper preparations made before lunch, so that making a meal is quick and easy when I return with Clare from the airport.

I thought of going into Málaga for a couple of hours before meeting her but decided it would be better to relax here instead. I caught a train just after four, and was at the arrivals gate ready by a quarter to five. Clare's flight was only ten minutes late, but it took forty minutes for her to get through passport control and collect her luggage. It seems that only one passport control gate was in service when she arrived with hundreds of others. The airport was very busy when I arrived, so maybe the other passport inspectors had gone for a tea break.

When we reached to Cercania station, one of the security guards helped us to buy an abono recorrido for Clare. Only one of four ticket machines was working, and it only accepted ten euro notes, which was most fortunate for as as that was what we had.  I spoke with the guard to be sure he understood what kind of ticket we needed, and not only did he understand me, but was complementary about my Spanish, and even encouraged me saying sigue practicando!

When got to Los Boliches we were fortunate enough to pass the L3 bus stop as one drew up, so we were spared having to wait, or climb the hill with luggage. I cooked a swordfish steak to share with veggies and rice for supper, while Clare unpacked. We were both tired afterwards and mindful of the clocks advancing an hour tonight, we made an effort to turn in before midnight.

Getting ready to welcome Clare

After a good night's sleep, I made an effort to tidy my things up, before the cleaners arrive this afternoon, then I worked on sermons for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday up until lunchtime and afterwards. I learned there was a funeral taking place at St Andrew's at lunchtime, being taken by Fr William, who has recently ministered to the family and a former congregation member who died only yesterday morning. It meant there was no need for me to be involved. 

The two cleaning ladies came at three and worked hard until nearly six, not only cleaning but making up the beds and sweeping the patio outside. When they left, I set out for a walk down the Paseo Maritime as far as Playa San Francisco and back. On the way there I called into a hairdressing salon and bought some special shampoo which Clare asked me to obtain. I was pleased to be able to do this without having to use English. After speaking with the cleaners in Spanish it was another boost to my speaking confidence.

It was low tide at Playa San Francisco and I think there were more people out using fishing rods than there were talking into mobile phones. On the north Eastern horizon over Fuengirola bay, despite the haze turned pink by the setting sun, the distant snow capped peaks of the Sierra Nevada are still visible seventy miles from here. By the time I got back, after a quick call in Mercadona for fruit and a piece of swordfish for tomorrow night's supper it was completely dark, and the rest of the evening just slipped away, consumed by tiredness and exchanging messages with Rachel, on the road to a gig in Arizona.

Lucky move

I woke up early, posted today's Morning Prayer video link to WhatsApp at seven and then dozed listening to the news, before coaxing my creaky joints into action. I stripped the bed and bundled all the linen into the washing machine before breakfast, to make the most of the early sun. The front patio is in full sun until midday, then the washing line moves into shadow. It's so strange to have one half of a giant duvet cover bone dry, and the other half still damp because its in cool shade, but by that time the fitted base sheet and pillow slips were dry and the duvet cover could be draped over the drying rack on the sunlit back patio. Late afternoon the sun emerges from behind the house, and the front patio is sunlit for long enough to run another load of washing if needs be.

We had a Zoom bible study again at midday with five of us present and there was one other that couldn't get the laptop to deliver zoom. Sitting for an hour in the kitchen in a position where the laptop's keyboard embedded camera could show my face properly was a bit of an exercise, and I was quite stiff by the time I started cooking lunch, and afterwards I felt quite tired. 

I lay on the sofa, found a comfortable position with one leg propped up, and fell asleep. I must have relaxed completely in this position. When I woke up about an hour later, I found I could move freely. It felt like the mis-aligned joint found its way back to the way it's meant to fit, or at least, sufficiently to make a perceptible difference. Stiffness in the back muscles will be with me for a while longer, but if I can retain this small strategic gain, it could mean I'm over the worst, more by luck than judgement.

Then I prepared next week's Morning Prayer video slide show to accompany the audio I recorded last night, and uploaded it to YouTube, in between re-making the bed with fresh clean and dry sheets without much difficulty. It's quite a physical challenge handling a two metre square winter weight duvet on my own, but the change in back condition made it easier for me. There may be another lighter duvet tucked away somewhere. When Clare comes we can search for one in places where spare stuff is stored.

It was gone six again by the time I went out for a walk over the hill, down the Arroyo Real and up the other side, where I found a way out into the side street where the Lidl store is located. From there I made my way back up and over the hill, and got back in time for the Archers. Before I set out I found out that once again I could bend down without pain and reach my toes, so I put on a pair of socks for the first time in a week, and felt a distinct sense of achievement on the way back to normality.

After supper, Clare and chatted briefly on the phone, and then I relaxed in front of the telly for an hour or so, before remembering that I needed to empty the bins ready for the cleaners who arrive tomorrow morning to spruce the place up and make up all the beds ready for guests as a welcome to Clare. Such a nice gesture! It felt quite mild when I walked down to the basura depot near the bus stop before turning in for the night. Twenty one degrees according to my phone, maybe even warmer over the weekend.

Stocking up

It's a week today since I hurt my back. Getting started wasn't so challenging, as I've got used to various workarounds to stay functional. I still can't bend down comfortable enough to put socks on, but barefoot with sandals is quite acceptable. After breakfast, I walked down to St Andrew's, celebrated the Eucharist with eight others, and preached. 

I called at Mercadona on my way back, getting the larder well stocked in preparation for Clare's coming. Then I edited the audio recording of my homily for the Zoom Bible Study group the receive in advance, and made lunch. Most of the afternoon was spent writing another Wednesday homily, and preparing to record next Thursday's Morning Prayer and Reflection. It was approaching sunset at seven by the time I went out for a walk over to the Arroyo Real and back. Clare and I chatted while I was walking, and I arrived back at the house at dusk, just in time to listen to 'The Archers'.

After supper, I watched telly for a while, then recorded and edited what I had prepared earlier in the day. All in all, quite a productive day despite back ache from sitting down to work. No wonder I'm tired.

Moving better

Another pleasant day and several hours of working on helping my painful back muscles to recover with gentle exercises and walking around the house. I worked on my draft of next Sunday's sermon, got ready for printing the final version of tomorrow's homily at the Eucharist, and started thinking about the Palm Sunday services to arrange, the week after next.

In the afternoon, I walked down to Los Boliches, called Clare again from the church office, walked along the Paseo Maritime, and shopped for more groceries at Mercadona on my way back up the hill. After supper I drafted another homily for next Wednesday, as it became easier to sit for longer without much discomfort. As long as I pay careful attention to posture the painful stiffness in my back slowly recedes. 

I'm grateful for what years of learning ChiGung and TaiChi taught me in order to cope with this. I'm glad that Clare's recent introduction to a short sequence of ChiGung exercises to help her cope with back pain has led her to interest in a regular class, so I've written to Christe my old teacher to enquire if we can join a class in Penarth when we return from here.

Equinox

A slow start to a beautiful sunny day, getting ready to welcome the arrival of a pair of single beds offered to improve the accommodation capacity to six, in time for Clare's arrival this Saturday. Ann arrived at eleven with a white van man called Fernando and his young assistant sporting a crew cut dyed bright pink. They moved furniture around, installed the beds as requested and were most helpful. Bed linen has been supplied, and all four single beds will be made up by the cleaners when they come on Friday. It's great the way this has worked out.

As Ann was leaving, we stood at the gate and were surprised to see a House Martin flying slowly up and down the stretch of grass opposite, hunting for insects. It's something I've not seen before. I wondered if the Martins had only recently arrived.

I cooked yesterday's tuna steak for lunch. A minute in a hot mix of olive oil and lemon and it was done, melt in the mouth perfectly. I then walked down to the church office to hang up my alb and put yesterday's church collection in the safe. Clare called as I arrived and we chatted for an hour, benefiting from the fast internet there. I'm hoping the house internet will be upgraded soon, and then there'll be fewer calls dropping out or problems with cloud services updating. 

After a short walk along the Paseo Maritime, I headed uphill intending to do some grocery shopping, but instead of popping into Mercadona I caught the L3 bus over the hill and went to Aldi's on the Mijas Road instead, and then walked back from there as the sun was setting.

After supper I went out to stretch my legs as my back was aching, though it hadn't given me much trouble earlier in the day. As I walked up the hill behind the urbanizacion, I thought I heard the distinctive sound of a tree frog coming from a strip of orchard ground beside the road. When I checked Wikipedia, I learned that the green tree frog's mating season begins in March. Today is the Spring Equinox. Clare arrives on Saturday afternoon and for her the time difference on waking up Sunday morning will be two hours. One for Central European Time and another for Summer Time.

The DMAX channel that offers a mix of English and Spanish programmes, showed a documentary made by the adventurer and journalist Bear Grylls in Ukraine where he interviewed President Zelensky. It was first aired a month ago, but tonight was its estreno (first showing) on DMAX. It was a surprise for the end of the evening. 

I learned that Grylls is a lifelong member and supporter of the worldwide Scout movement, and one of its Ambassadors, promoting the movement's lifestyle, values and activities internationally. It was inevitable that among the people he interviewed were Ukrainian Scouts, father and son. I gained a great deal from my membership of the Scouts as a teenager, although after leaving for University it became a thing of the past, but nevertheless influential in stimulating my lifelong interest in environmental issues and nature.

Grief remembered

I was grateful for a slow start this morning with a late service at Alhaurin. Once I was behind the wheel of the car, my nervousness dissipated, and the drive to church was uneventful. There were thirteen of us for the service, but the car park surrounding was full of cars, possibly because the thanatorio next door was hosting a pre-funeral 'viewing', when relatives and friends can gather to pay their respects and pray around the body of the deceased. What took us by surprise after the service was the arrival of a couple of funeral company workers to get the chapel ready for another funeral service. 

Then a young priest arrived, and we chatted in a mix of English and Spanish as he hunted through the 'Catholic' cupboard for the Communion set, wine and wafers. Apparently he was a visitor, unfamiliar with the set-up. He told me he was officiating at a funeral Mass for his abuela. A tough call for a young cleric. I was reminded of my own early years in ministry when I lost both parents, grandfather, uncle and father in law within twenty months. It's fifty years ago already. The intensity of the memory fades, but it never completely fades away.

As he was about to go into the chapel and start the service, another young priest arrived and had to hunt for vestments to wear. There was a distinct resemblance between the two of them. I wondered if they were perhaps brothers or cousins, in which case granny would have been very proud of them both. The service had started by the time we had  finished packing our kit away, signing the book, and so on as we slipped out the side door. The chapel was full, a hundred and fifty to two hundred people.

There was no social gathering after the service this week, which was a relief, as I'd been on my feet for two hours without sitting down. I didn't want to take the risk of struggling to get up and tottering during the service, and was fine on my feet. I didn't have any problems getting in and out of the car fortunately, by moving slowly and carefully. The injury isn't better yet, but I'm getting better at living with it.

I had a meal pre-cooked from yesterday to warm up when I got back, and in the spirit of Refreshment Sunday, opened a bottle of Rioja left for me when I arrived. Apart from at Communion, it was my first drink of wine, or any other alcohol this year. Needless to say, when I sat on the couch after the meal, relaxed and dozed off listening to the Early Music programme on Radio Three. I woke up just in time to listen to Choral Evensong. Then, suitably refreshed, I walked along the Paseo Maritime, to Torreblanca and back. 

In this stretch of beach there are two more brand new brightly painted cabins on raised platforms for life guards and first aiders. Each is placed in the vicinity of a cubic shaped structure topped with a platform. I suspect these are the remains of previous cabins whose wooden components were destroyed by winter weather or removed some time ago. 

The evening after supper slipped by with the slow upload of photos, a little writing and trying to follow a movie set in Turkey, dubbed into Spanish. Not exactly compelling viewing as it was mostly face to face dialogue with almost no other activity, but somehow I ended up going to be later than usual, perhaps because today wasn't quite as tiring, as previous days have been.

Recovery noticeable

Another good night's sleep, and a little less difficulty in getting moving without pain or discomfort. As the day went on, I sensed that the pressure on the nerve causing the trouble was diminishing. There's still pain and I'm not yet able to bend down and touch my toes again, but it's not that debilitating nerve pain. 

I contacted Caroline to see if she could collect me on her way from Calahonda back to Alhaurin where I'm taking the service tomorrow, just in case driving the car turned out to be too painful and risky. Then a little later, I thought I should see if I can drive the car before making life complicated for her and me. It turned out that I'm OK to drive once I've inserted myself delicately into the driving seat. That's a relief. Also, as the day passed, it's got easier to sit and then stand up, as long as I do so slowly, carefully.

In the afternoon I walked to Los Boliches and along the Paseo Maritime as far as Playa San Francisco. A poster in the window of the panaderia by the Municipal Market told me I'd missed one of the Parish Lent Marian devotional events last night with the singing of saetas. The price I paid for lying low for a couple of days. 

On the beaches two new brightly painted cabins on raised platforms for life guards and first aiders to inhabit have appeared. Beach restaurants are being tidied up and prepared for re-opening if they closed for the winter. A reminder that the really busy holidaymaking season is about to start. There are people on the beaches already, but these are people who live here for all or part of the year, not just transient visitors. 

On the return leg I decided to take the bus up the hill from the stop opposite the football ground, as I was starting to feel tired. I waited fifteen minutes and the bus was late. When it neared La Loma bus stop at the end of our urbanizacion, I pressed the request stop button, but it didn't work. The bus normally stops, but this time went straight past. I was taken by surprise and forgot I needed to shout "Oye!" to get attention, so the bus went on up and over the hill another kilometre to the next stop, so I ended up walking further than I wanted to. but with no ill effects.

This evening I talked with Clare and Owain on the phone, and watched news in Spanish before making an effort to turn in early, to rest and recover ready for tomorrow. My seventh Sunday already. 

Lying low day two

Fortunately I was able to sleep, but needed time to unstiffen and get on with the day. Sitting to do anything can soon become a problem, and the hard bit is getting vertical again afterwards. But, the iBuprofen tablets bought yesterday are reducing the sharpness of the pain and Arnica ointment albeit not so dramatic in effect, certainly works gradually. Standing and walking around is fine fortunately, so I can get things done. Slowly.

A bright sunny and warm day today. I had to forego the Palm Cross workshop at Peter and Linda's. Not sure I can drive at the moment, but will try tomorrow. If no success, I'll need someone to take me up to Alhaurin for the Eucharist. Thankfully it's my only service and it's end of morning.

I hand washed a couple of pullovers and some shorts and got them dry in a few hours. Also I completed next Thursday's prayer video and uploaded it to YouTube. After lunch, a walk to Aldi's for weekend groceries. I returned with a heavy bag, but neither my back nor ankle complained. The problem is discomfort when sitting on a chair, then wobbliness and pain standing up.

I dared to lie on the sofa to call Clare and write emails. I've rested on the bed a couple of times during the day. Working around the limits imposed by a specific area of back pain is quite tiring so the rest was welcome. After a couple of hours on the sofa I got up by edging myself on the the floor and then getting up in slow stages propped by furniture on hand. And this with little pain or discomfort. So I am improving, slowly, being careful.  Then, straight to bed. Quit while I'm ahead.

Lying low

I slept reasonably well, and despite the back pain, got up three times in the night without doing myself any harm. I posted the link to Thursday's Morning Prayer to WhatsApp and then took a good while to get mobile, and start theday, walking around the house to stretch my legs. 

I can sit down without too much discomfort but it's a problem standing up afterwards and getting mobile again, as my hips are unstable until I'm properly vertical and mobile. I sat down to write next week's biblical reflection, but recorded it and the Office standing with the laptop perched on top of the small upright piano. It turned out that the acoustic of the location were quite good too, although the distant sound of a strimmer at work messed up the first attempt I made.q

Once I was properly warmed up and confident about walking outdoors, I went down to the Farmacia and bought some iBuprofen, using my Spanish to good effect when discussing the required dosage. I returned to the house, ate the other half of the meal I cooked yesterday, went to bed and slept for an hour. 

Then, a walk up to Calle la Loma, chatting to Clare on the way to the far end where the street overlooks the autovia, and back to the house only parting company when it was time to eat supper. Afterwards I uploaded a few photos taken while I was out, but couldn't settle to read on the sofa for fear of discomfort or pain getting up afterwards, so I went and got ready for bed an hour early and read in bed instead. Fortunately getting in and out of bed is not a problem. The height is just right and the mattress gives firm support.

The unexpected

I was up in good time to get ready for the midweek Eucharist at Los Boliches, but made a move as I bent over or squatted, I can't recall which or figure out how and I strained my back. I found I couldn't get socks or shoes on, although fortunately I was able to wear sandals without socks and coped with the walk down to Los Boliches with discomfort but not serious pain in back or ankle. Standing for most of the service was an effort of concentration as much as anything to avoid pain and making things worse. 

There were only nine of us this morning. After coffee and a chat I walked back, and kept moving as much as possible to avoid seizing up. Fortunately it's not bad enough for me to need pain killers. The pain I feel is a sharp reminder I'm not moving or holding myself in a beneficial way and have to deliberate before I move every time to get through this.

After cooking lunch, I had some writing to do and emails to answer. Finding out how to sit comfortably and not have pain getting back on my feet again took a little time to work out, including lying on the bed.  Late afternoon I went out  somewhat tentatively for a walk over the hill, and was relieved to find that it was beneficial. I had an email from Emma at HQ asking if I'd be OK with going to Malta mid June to the end of August, but yesterday's email from Stewart about duty at St German's runs all the way to July and maybe August too if his knee op is done and he's free to take a holiday, so I had to turn the offer down.

Today's misfortune has certainly reminded me of how vulnerable it's possible to be without warning. All is fine when you're fit, and you can't always expect the unexpected. The challenge now is to get to sleep and through the night without unintended movements that make things worse.

Rota booking time

It's so nice to wake up and the room is still warm enough not to need to bury myself in the duvet while I wake up. More flowers are opening up, and the Spring equinox is only a week away. After breakfast I edited Sunday's sermon and worked on a Wednesday address for week hence, as tomorrow's is already done. A fair morning's work. 

Caroline emailed the rota for the last couple of weeks of my stay here. It means this coming Sunday will be my last visit to Alhaurin, not Palm Sunday, the way it was when I was here nine years ago. The pictures taken at the service are still there in one of my Google Photos accounts. I had hoped for a repeat, but never mind. Do what's useful, that's what counts. I also had a list of dates from Father Stewart for helping out in Roath Ministry area for the first three months when I get back, at St German's and St Edwards mostly, as suits his need. Lots of dates to enter into the diary!

An appeal came in from Ruth on the Parish WhatsApp prayer group for someone to cover her daily office stint tomorrow as she's been having trouble uploading and 8-9 minute video via WhatsApp, and has yet to master posting files to be hosted by YouTube. I've done this almost since the beginning of the regular daily prayer webcasts a year and a half ago. I was forced to do it as the memory of my phone at the time wasn't adequate to the job within WhatsApp. 

Three of us on the rota use cloud video hosting, the other three use WhatsApp directly, but it looks now as if it may be 'all change'. WhatsApp video postings are capped at 30mb, about two thirds of the size of an average file uploaded. It may be something to do with a change in the app's ability to compress videos. Or, something to do with Morning Prayer having longer Psalms and Gospel lessons in Lent, taking files over the upload limit. Not a problem with YouTube thankfully, so far. 

As I have a fair amount of time to spare, I volunteered to do Ruth's slot for her this week. I wanted to do this at the end of the morning but couldn't as for a second day running there was persistent noise and vibration from a pneumatic drill breaking up concrete  a hundred metres up the road. I felt sure the noise would stop at two when tools are down for lunch, so I did the recording when this happened, except that the noise started up again five minutes later, so I got lucky!

After this I walked to Los Boliches and took the train to Fuengirola, then walked from there exploring side streets and another section of the Paseo Maritime before turning back. I caught the L3 bus from the Mercacentro back to Los Boliches, as it was 26C and I was overdressed for the increased heat. I needed a few things from Mercadona, and walked back up the hill from there to the house. 

After supper I washed a few things and left them to dry on the line overnight. Then I assembled a video slide show to accompany the audio recorded earlier and posted it to YouTube after supper. As there was no biblical reflection to accompany it, the task didn't take long. Rhiannon arrived to stay with Clare. She has film extra work on the 'Casualty' set down in Cardiff Bay. The three of us chatted for a while on video and then it was time to get ready for bed after quite a demanding day.

Malagueta meeting

A pleasant night's sleep, as the house cooled very little during the hours of darkness, remaining at 18C. I put another load of washing through the machine at breakfast time, and left it hanging on the line while I went up to Málaga on the train to meet Fr Louis St George's Chaplain for lunch at Cafe Flor in the Plaza de Toro. It took me twenty five minutes brisk walking from the Alameda station to reach there on time, and I was pleased that my ankle didn't give any trouble to slow me down. It noticed work has now just started on erecting Semana Santa spectator seating opposite the entrance of Calle Larios.

We chatted about the city which he loves as much as I do. It's attracting a new generation of in-comers as a developing digital technology enterprise hub, and for its cultural creativity and lifestyle. He's been chaplain here for two and a half years, since the Costa Azahar chaplaincy closed early in the pandemic. In this job as in the previous one, he subsists on half time pay, as it's all that can be afforded, but he sees it as a unique opportunity for mission, and is willing to take the risk. I admire him for this. While he relishes the big challenge of working in a situation equally hard hit by covid, he's exploring possibilities without rushing to formulate grand strategy. I think it's important in the face of a diminishing established congregation and demographic change which could make the difference between life and death for this historic anglophone  pastorate. 

I was quite surprised to learn that almost all the Nigerian church members have left since they were such a strong group a decade ago. Some attend a local Catholic church instead closer to where they live, but more have migrated in search of work to Finland, following others settled there over the years. It was great that Fr. Louis could put them in touch with Fr. Tuomas, the chaplain in Helsinki. I believe there's an African priest assisting in the chaplaincy there.

After nearly two hours talking we parted company. I returned to the Alameda station through the old town, and the Plaza de la Constitucion. There was a big stage up for the Carnaval fiesta when I passed through here last time. This has now been replaced by a smaller stage and a complete outside broadcast studio enclosed in a glass plated cube. It's all to do with the nine day 26th Festival de Málaga, on at the moment, a film festival that's also a ritzy fashion showcase.

I wasn't curious about this, and took the next train back to Los Boliches. The train had been quite full on the way up and even more crowded on the way back. Tourism traffic is building up as the weather gets warmer, but it's mostly older people at the moment. It's hard to imagine how crowded it will be when family holidaymakers start arriving in big numbers, and others come as Semana Santa pilgrims.

I went straight back to the house as I was feeling hungry. I'd not eaten at Cafe Flor as diary free options vegetarian options are few and far between apart from uninteresting salad. I knew there was a cooked meal from Saturday waiting for me in the fridge, so I just had a couple of non-alcoholic beers and some crisps, with a vegan empanada from a posh panaderia in the old town to keep me going en route.

Then Clare and I chatted while she was walking in Bute Park. She stopped for a tea at 'The Summer House' and bumped into our friend Mark, so the two of us exchanged surprise greetings over What'sApp video. The evening slipped by again, uploading new photos and downloading old ones for archiving, until it was time for bed.

Demanding duties

An early start this morning, awake at seven fifteen to get ready to leave for Calahonda by a quarter to nine for the nine thirty service. There were eighteen of us for the Eucharist. The service was somewhat longer  due to the Gospel reading about Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well being twice as long as usual. After a quick cup of coffee and a chat I had to drive quickly back to Los Boliches for the second Eucharist of the day, at which there were thirty eight of us. By the time I got back to the house I felt quite tired. 

After cooking a tuna steak with veggies for lunch, I decided to rest and recover some energy before going out for a walk. I dozed on the sofa for a while, then started wondering about next Sunday, and looked up the readings. These gave me ideas about a sermon, so I sat down and drafted one straight away. It was six by the time I went out. 

I walked over the hill, having just missed the L3 bus, but caught up with it at the next stop, and rode to the Merca Centro stop by the Cercania station. From there I walked to the fishing port to look around. There's a fleet of more than a dozen modest sized trawlers in the harbour, with a commercial fish market on site as well as over a hundred and fifty berths for recreational fishing boats. The sun was about to set, so I walked back to Los Boliches along the Paseo Maritime, and just missed the L3 bus to take me up the hill on the last stretch and save energy.

Clare and I chatted for a while, then I had supper and watched a Clint Eastwood movie dubbed into Spanish on telly to find about how much of it I could understand, given the familiarity of its dialogue in English. It struck me how dated it seemed irrespective of language, and how brutally violent it was. I'm not impressed by the quality of most programmes on free-to-air TV channels I have access to here.

Una gorra neuva

I must have been tired to sleep eight and a half hours, and wake up in bright sunlight with the sun above the roof line of the terrace opposite the bedroom. By mid afternoon the temperature was 25C. All I did this morning was finish preparing for tomorrow, print out my sermon and cook lunch.

I walked down to Los Boliches after lunch and then went north east along the Paseo Maritime to Playa Carvahal. On my way I was passed one of the many tiendas selling clothes as well as beach supplies, and noticed a few gorras (gents' cloth caps) of interest. I need one big enough to tuck my ponytail into and stop my hair blowing into my face. There was one in cotton denim that was just the right size for me. I've hunted in many stores since I've been here and it's the first time I've come across one that wasn't too small. I can't believe that I've bought a shirt and a cap this week. I never shop for clothes on holiday, as my packed suitcase usually contains everything I need.  

Carvahal at the far end of Fuengirola municipality has 1.2km of beach. The Sierra de Mijas peaks are 15-20km inland from here, but descend to a narrow coastal strip dedicated for the past forty years to high rise blocks of hotels and holiday apartments, on sites excavated from steep slopes behind the beach road. The original N340 highway runs 50m above the beach, the Cercania railway line 50m above that. The A7 autovia runs another 500m higher up. All of these in their day were massive civil engineering projects to improve access for the tourism industry.

The L1 free bus runs from here all the way to the Miramar shopping mall at the other end of the municipality, the longest route. I caught one on the return leg, and was impressed at how well used the service is. I got off at the stop opposite the Los Boliches market and walked up to Mercadona to get a few items I'd not been able to carry yesterday. My ankle hadn't been given me much trouble while I walked, but as soon as I stepped into the supermarket it hurt enough to make me limp, and I have no idea why. As I had a bag with several kilos of shopping in it, I crossed the road and sat on a bench waiting for the L3 bus to take me back up the hill. Fortunately I only had five minutes to wait, and was soon able to take off my shoes and walk around barefoot, which relieves the pain promptly.

While uploading and downloading photos after supper, I watched a cooking programme from a small town in Cordoba Province. The dialogue was difficult to follow, a bit fast for me. The news programme that followed was easier, and helped by on-screen headlines, thankfully.

Clare and I chatted for half an hour. She told me about the new Welsh opera she went to with Diana and Pete at the Millennium Centre last night. It was a story about a Welsh male voice choir, and as she said "Very culture specific, unlikely to travel well." The real life Dowlais Male Voice Choir performed on the stage in the foyer beforehand, and put in an appearance on-stage at the end of the opera, which featured an audience sing-along, in Welsh as well as English. Probably a reason why it wouldn't travel. I wonder if there'll be a video to circulate among ex-pat New World Welsh societies? 

Free buses here too

It's getting warmer by the day now, so it's no longer necessary to take the chill of the bedroom when I get up as the sun rises. In the mood for a change, I cooked myself a small portion of rice pudding using soya milk, honey and cinnamon for breakfast. Then I put together a video slide show for next week's Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube. In addition to praying, reading articles on-line and sending messages the morning slips by very quickly.

I came across an interesting article about Big Bang cosmological theory, a salutary reminder that findings from the James Webb telescope observations are providing new puzzles for theorists, as they describe an unexpected array of mature galaxies originating from very early on in cosmic history which cannot be accounted for. All this and dark matter too! The article points out that while it's possible to figure out how these observations fit, no theory can explain how time, space and the primordial matter from which the Big Bang originated the universe came into being in the first place. 

After it started happening, the process of Creation itself is describable, but not what happened before then, nor how Creation turned Nothing into Something. The writer even quotes the philosopher Kant's First Antimony - a statement in the form of a question about the Universe. By its very nature, the Universe embraces all that exists, with all causes and effects determining how things exist. So what can exist outside of such a Universe to bring it into being? This took me right back to undergraduate days, studying Philosophy of Science. Happy times!

Yesterday I read an article by US Episcopalian Bishop Pierre Whalon entitled 'God does not exist' reminding us of the truth, that the author of all that exists is above and beyond existence itself. We may appropriately attribute existing qualities to God when we describe our experience of the divine but the paradox doesn't go away. It rather warns us to beware of getting stuck with making God in our own image. As Hebrew scripture has reminded us for three millennia! We struggle to describe and explain Creation as its wealth and complexity keeps on revealing itself to science. And, we struggle to describe the unknowable undefinable uncreated Creator whom we worship acknowledge to be God, source of our being. 'Twas ever thus.

After lunch I walked to Mercadona and did my weekend grocery shopping. Then I decided it was about time I tried out the free bus service. There are five circular lines covering Fuengirola, Los Boliches and Playa Carvahal, and their routes interconnect in places, so it's possible to get from one end of town to another once you've studied the map!

The Line 3 bus stops at the entrance to this urbanizacion and runs every half hour, although there's no obvious timetable on display at the bus stop or on-line. It was a fortunate co-incidence that one arrived as I reached the stop. It goes over the hill, then left down the main road all the way to the roundabout by Fuengirola's Cercania train station, also free to travel on at the moment. Then it doubles back along the avenue running alongside the train line to Los Boliches before turning left up the hill to when I got on. If you didn't want to walk down or up the hill for any reason, and have time to wait, a circular line bus is a real asset. 

I got off at the train station and walked in the direction of the zoo and bullring. I found a camera shop open, which sold a good range of Panasonic and Canon cameras, and just a couple by Sony. I struck up a conversation in Spanish with the man behind the counter, and while I struggled to find the words for some technical words appropriate to a digital camera, I did converse without either of us reverting to English. I found out there's a bigger better stocked tienda than this high street one, on the Avenida de Coin. I must go and take a look when I'm next in that vicinity.

I went as far as the church of Nuestra Señora del Carmen, next to the Ayuntamiento. As it was the end of the afternoon, the church was open, so I went in and sat there for a while, as dozens of people were gathering well before Mass. I think the Rosary was about to be recited beforehand. The parish was established just after the second Vatican Council in 1968 and the present church building dates from the 1990s. Its exterior is quite traditional, but internally it reflects the revised liturgical arrangements which the Council recommended - a broad narrow raised sanctuary, square nave with good sight lines, simply furnished, a font on its north side and the sacrament reserved on the south. Designed like this I suspect, and not adapted, so the whole has a harmonious feel to  it.

As I made my way back to Los Boliches my ankle began to give me trouble and walking was intermittently painful. Just as I reached the Line 3 stop opposite the Los Boliches football stadium, a bus pulled up, with perfect timing to take me the last and worst mile uphill to the stop I'd started from a few hours before!

After a couple of days with very little pain, previous instability has returned. It's not as if I walked too much yesterday, or was wearing different shoes. I can't figure out how or why it happens. When I take my shoes off and walk around the house barefoot, the ankle joint stops misbehaving. It might be an indication that all my shoes, one way or another aren't giving enough of the right support for my ankle, but there's no way to find out until I return home and find an orthopaedic specialist advice about shoes. It's so frustrating because of the inconsistency. What a bother!

I was delighted to receive an invite from Peter and Linda to a party on April 1st, celebrating thirty years since they arrived on the Costa del Sol. Linda's parents were already settled here, so they got to know the region before they both retired. What a splendid thing to do, coming back in style after a tough year in which Linda lost a leg to an incurable infection. Such determined defiance!

Clare's at the opera tonight with our friends Diana and Pete, so we haven't talked. Owain posted a photo on the family WhatsApp threat from his usual position on the bridge over the river Spree in the heart of Berlin. He's there visiting his deejay friend Jamie, and having a well deserved chillout weekend after a very stressful and busy few months. A much quieter evening for me, writing, reflecting, reading, and if I'm honest, missing company.

Listening exercise

A day of clouds and sunshine with the temperature rising to 23C mid afternoon. As soon as I woke up this morning I posted the day's YouTube link to What'sApp, and then after breakfast  recorded and edited next week's office, having received the texts from Ruth yesterday evening. At noon I joined Caroline's Zoom bible study. There were six of us altogether, and we chatted for over an hour, as the session wasn't limited to forty minutes, since the Chaplaincy has a paid subscription that extends what the app offers. 

Afterwards, I cooked lunch and then started work on another Wednesday morning homily to go with the bible study series. The more I can prepare in advance the more free time I'll have when Clare joins me in just over two weeks time. I had a message from Emma at HQ to say she's now had an offer to cover the full two months of duty in Lausanne, which naturally takes precedence. She's working on cover for several more summer locum assignments, so it's a matter of waiting to see what she comes up with when she has been informed of exactly what's required. 

I walked down to Los Boliches with no particular plan in mind. I wandered along the Paseo Maritime and explored back streets that were new to me, then returned to the house as the sun was setting. After supper and the Archers, Clare and I talked for a while, then I watched telly in Spanish half heartedly until bed-time. Nothing compelling all my attention, but demanding lots of concentration. The more I listen the easier it becomes to comprehend everything that's said, rather than just getting a general sense of the story. Dubbed dialogue is generally easier to follow as it's clearer than live conversation with its variations in accent. All good exposure one way or another.

Study dilemma

It's been snowing in Cardiff, but it's another warm and sunny day, which makes life feel easier. There were fifteen for the Eucharist at St Andrew's this morning. There was no interest in bible study after the service today. Will there be any for tomorrow's Zoom discussion I wonder? It's hard to generate interest in bible  study and discussion these days. I wonder if it's got anything to do with the ease of available information on line nowadays? If church people have questions on matters of faith they can enquire privately and not have to admit their problems or what they don't know than was the case in times past. 

Yet there are those churches that make a great success of running Alpha courses. Organising one is quite a project requiring commitment from course givers and course takers. It's possible when there's a fair degree of cohesion and communication between church members. Which makes me wonder what the impact of the pandemic has been on this dimension of church life.

I forgot to buy olives yesterday and popped into the Municipal Market on my way back to the house, and bought a large jar of them from the Antequera olive groves. They have a good flavour to them. 

While cooking lunch I put a load of washing through the machine and put it on the rack to dry in the sun on the patio afterwards. It gets sunshine for longer in the day than the clothes line attached to the wall on the shady side of the house. 

I went over the hill and walked down the east side path along the Arroyo Real, then crossed over to the other side and walked up the west side, to the point where the path runs out, and then you have to cross the river bed, dry just now so no problem, to get back on the east side path abd retrace your steps up to the road. At this point there's a large piece of unkempt waste land that runs as far as the new avenue thst runs of the hill top. The area between the Arroyo and the avenue is being turned into a large green space with recreational facilities by the ayuntamiento.

Clare and I chatted on the way back to the house andcafter until supper time. I spent the evening reading my new novel and glimpsed a documentary on telly about excavation in Egypt aimed at finding the tomb of Cleopatra.

Summer proposal

A change in the weather overnight with cloud dispersing and the temperature rising to 20C mid- afternoon, and it's set to become even warmer in days to come. The moon is full tonight, spring is on the way. After breakfast I found an email waiting for me from Emma in diocesan HQ, to say that it would be possible to do seven of the nine weeks of the Lausanne locum duty July-August this year, without hindrance from Schengen rules. I wanted to talk to Clare about it, but she's been off-line since last night.

Then, I walked down the the church office to sort out bible study material ready for tomorrow, and then continued into town to buy a shirt in Dunne's Stores, a long sleeved blue cotton one, only €12. I then paid a visit to Fuengirola's Municipal Market, which has some interesting shops selling teas and health food products, but most of the meat fruit and veg stalls stalls were shuttered by mid-afternoon. Like the one in Los Boliches business starts and finishes early in the day. I caught the train back, and returned to the house for a very late lunch. 

I had a chat with Owain on WhatsApp then spent much of the evening downloading archived photo albums to add to others I'm storing on a 32GB USB stick. I've cleared more than five gigabytes of photos from one of my Google Photos accounts, but the increased spare space isn't registering. I'm still getting 'account nearly full' warnings. With millions of accounts stored on its servers, it probably takes a long time to update them all, especially as data is backed up more than once on different servers. This account I started around twenty years ago, possibly during a visit to Switzerland. It's hard to imagine where my data might actually be stored. Perhaps it doesn't make sense to ask, as it's so complex.

I caught up with Clare late evening, having spoken only briefly at lunchtime. After thinking about it she okayed the prospect of a summer holiday in Lausanne, and catching up again with old friends, so I informed Emma, and look forward to making contact for a briefing in the coming days.

Return of the rain

I woke up to find the sky overcast again, with rain threatened for later. After breakfast I started checking what I'd already prepared for the homily at Wednesday's Communion service, and realised that I'd made an error I'd not noticed before. When preparing the print ready pdf files for each week's bible study notes, I'd missed this Wednesday's set of notes, duplicating the following week's notes instead. No sooner than I had discovered this than Caroline emailed me to point this out. I was able to rectify it quickly enough, but the notes printed out already well need the dates on them hand corrected when I go into the office tomorrow. Then I had to write this week's homily to match the bible study texts, but I now have next week's homily already done.

An email arrived from Emma in diocesan HQ to ask if I'd be free and able take on a summer locum job in Lausanne. Lovely to be asked, but under these damned stupid Schengen visa rules, my first period of 180 days doesn't expire until the last week in July, so I couldn't offer two full months as required. Such a shame. I'm pretty sure I'll be asked to cover clergy summer holiday absences back home then as well.

I cooked lunch, using up almost all the remaining veggies in the fridge, and then walked to Mercadona to stock up again for the week. I chatted with Clare for half an hour when I returned to the house. She told me about the very unusual premiere of Mozart's 'Magic Flute' which she saw with Ann and Chris yesterday afternoon. There was quite different take on the staging and libretto in this production, she said. The Guardian's review of it was very critical, but it still sounds like something that would be worth going to see if the opportunity arose. It may well have suffered from being at the beginning of its run of performances, being so different, no matter how well rehearsed such an occasion always is. Not being there for this was the one big sacrifice I had to make in order to come here.

I then set about going into Fuengirola by train to buy myself a new shirt in Dunne's Stores, as I saw one I fancied a few weeks ago but still haven't got around to returning and making the purchase. Rain was in the weather forecast, so I wore my rain coat. It was only drizzling slightly when I left, but by the time I reached Los Boliches it picked up and turned into a downpour which went on for more than an hour. 

I decided to abandon the trip to Dunne's Stores, and ended up with a cup of coffee in the Granier panaderia next to the municipal market, waiting for it to stop. It didn't, but it slackened sufficiently to allow me to return to the house without getting totally soaked. Then after a while, heavy rain returned and continued throughout the evening. It's the first spell of rain in five weeks. Like it is in Britain this year, that's an unusually long winter dry spell. Rain has meant that I wasn't able to walk my full quota today. My rain coat needs to dry out in case there's more rain tomorrow.

After supper, I watched the news on telly for a while, and a programme in English which I found on a specialist channel, but soon lost interest. The internet went down for no apparent reason, so I rebooted the router and all was well. It's the first time I've had to do that since I'm here. Don't feel like reading, so another early night I think, listening to the rain.

Surprise meeting with a former chaplain

It was overcast when I woke up this morning and stayed overcast, though it wasn't as cold as yesterday. I benefited from a late start this morning, listening to Sunday Worship of Radio Four over breakfast, then getting a load of washing done and out to dry before it was time to leave for the eleven thirty Eucharist at St Andrew's. 

We were forty five this morning and the unaccompanied singing was hearty in an almost full church. In the congregation was Fr David Sutch and his wife who was both Archdeacon and Chaplain in 2013 and retired that autumn. That was what led to my first series of long locum duties here in the Costa del Sol East Chaplaincy. 

David was Vicar of Yate in the diocese of Bristol when I was serving in St Paul's, but our paths didn't cross at that time. In fact, this was the first time we'd ever met. When I was an undergraduate in Bristol David's father Christopher was a priest in Bristol diocese, and I came across him when I was attending the University Chaplaincy Church of St Paul's Clifton.

When I returned, I cooked a tuna steak with veggies for lunch, and then went for a walk over the hill, up the road to Mijas and back to the house through the La Loma housing area. From the ridge overlooking the AP7 I could see a dozen big beef cattle grazing a patch of open land, still used for its ancient purpose, not yet swallowed up by the encroachment of housing estates. The preacher at this morning's service on the radio was talking about the place he grew up in, where there was a similar stretch of little used land in between suburb and countryside, where he took quiet refuge as a teenager. It's interesting this image registered with me, even though I can't recall what point he was making at the time.

This evening I had a conference video call with both daughters and both grand daughters. Kenilworth, Tempe and Fuengirola all linked by WhatsApp. Amazingly the line didn't drop, as it often does when I call Clare. How good to see and hear them all at once. This afternoon, Clare and Ann are at the opera. 

At the outset of the call, Rachel had been asking about a photo I posted yesterday of a quotation from a poem by Frederico Garcia Lorca I saw on a wall in a back street of Málaga yesterday: 'Las estrellas no tienen un novio'. The stars don't have a boyfriend (or bridegroom depending on context). It's a bit cryptic either way. I googled it and found a poem 'called Estampa del Cielo' - picture (or imprint) of heaven in which this is the first line. I couldn't resist making a translation of it, just for pleasure. It makes a change from Duo Lingo drills. I'm just going to concentrate on the Duo Lingo podcast series from now on, and watch Spanish telly instead. Over supper I listened to the story of a transgender activist's fight for recognition in Costa Rica and found it most insightful.

It took me the best part of an hour to upload and edit thirty photos from the last couple of days. I spoke briefly with Clare who'd just got in from the opera, a new modern production of Mozart's 'Magic Flute'. We didn't talk for long as she and Ann had just started supper. I'll get the full story tomorrow. After posting a few photos of breakdancing I saw in Malaga Puerto yesterday, I was too tired to read or watch telly, so took myself off to bed.

  

Another outing to Málaga

When I woke up this morning, it was cold and overcast. It felt like the weather had gone back by a month. I remembered that it was my late sister Pauline's birthday, so I exchanged WhatsApp messages with her children Jules and Nicky. I resolved to go to Málaga, but was slow getting going, due to a long exchange of messages with Rufus. It was midday by the time I got on a train. It was already quite full and even more so within a few stops en route. It's no wonder given the tens of thousands of people who have taken up the offer of a free season ticket on the Cercanias lines. 

By the time the train approached Málaga, cloud had dispersed, it was sunny and mild and the streets were busy with pedestrians. I walked down to the Palmeria de las Sorpresas on the main quay of the port where the restaurants were filled with outdoor diners, and the pavements quite crowded with pedestrians, half a dozen buskers, a puppeteer, a group of fit and handsome young men break dancing in front of a crowd, plus stag and hen parties - the place was buzzing with vitality. Then I walked back through the Old Town where every open restaurant with outdoor tables was full of clients and the streets filled with shoppers. It was so invigorating after a quiet, mostly solitary week. 

My last port of call was the Mercado de Atarazanas. I walked around camera in hand, but couldn't find a place to start taking pictures. I was so surrounded by colour, aromas, and the buzz of chatter, all I could do was wander around absorbing and enjoying the moment. It's such a special place. After two hours walking I was tired and starting to get hungry, so I took the train back to Fuengirola, went back to the house and cooked a very late lunch.

In the evening, I switched on the telly for the first time, and explored its functioning channels. There are a few showing old dubbed American movies, national and local news, and one station with a programme showcasing performing arts in Andalusia, which I was glad to find. I'm doing quite well with understanding what's said, and suspect the more I listen the easier it will get, as my vocabulary is quite good after seven years of learning, despite things I forget or am slow to retrieve. There remain, however, grammatical constructions which will, to my mind, always seem bizarre and unnatural.

Clare and I chatted after supper. Owain paid her an overnight visit, which was opportune because of Auntie Ann being with Clare for the weekend. Then I finished off tomorrow's sermon, printed it and attempted to go to bed early, feeling too tired to read. Having walked a good distance today, without my ankle giving me trouble, my pace was slightly quicker. Extra energy expended maybe, but worth it.

Spanish practice

After I got up this morning I had a long exchange of messages with Rufus about the new generation of church leaders and their 'command and control' management style in his diocese. He's not happy about the way things are developing, and with good reason. 

Another trip to Mercadona for the second part of this week's grocery shopping this morning. It's necessary when there are a number of heavy items to carry back up the hill. I limit myself to five or six kilos, so as not to put additional stress on my dodgy ankle, even though it is slowly improving as the weeks pass, with walking up and down a steep hill.

When I went to St Andrew's to return the novel I finished after lunch, I met the two church cleaners, and succeeded in chatting to them for while and making myself understood. It seemed that my Spanish pronunciation was intelligible to them! I could understand them, just about. The accent wasn't Andalusian but Latin American, which I'm used to from Duo Lingo lessons and podcasts. It was good to have some live practice at speaking for a change, and find that I have to confidence to talk, even if I stumble and forget to use words I know.

I've been doing Duo Lingo now for seven whole years, but am getting bored with it. I think it may be time to give it up, or at least give up the language drills, which progress so slowly and are annoyingly pedantic. The podcasts are excellent, however, and present very interesting stories. It's really time that I switched on the telly and listened to Las Noticias to get used to the presenters' manner of speaking - generally too fast - it's hard to get used to.

After a walk along the Paseo Maritime I headed back to the house for supper, and settled down to read my new Spanish novel Soldados de Salmina, but only managed a few pages, as I was more tired than I realised and started nodding off. Bed early tonight.

Early World Day of Prayer observation

Up early posting the Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp, then dozed for a while before getting up for breakfast. I worked all morning on recording and posting next week's video to YouTube, then went to Mercadona for food supplies before cooking lunch. I'm making life easier for myself using jars of pulses already cooked, rather than preparing large batches of my own from scratch and freezing them. With lots of writing to do, preparing for services, bible study and my weekly on-line slot, taking less time to cook meals is worthwhile, without resorting to ready meals.

I wrote for a while after lunch, then went for a walk over the hill and along the Arroyo Real again, all the way down to the sea, and back to St Andrew's on the Paseo Maritime for a World Day of Prayer service at six. It was an ecumenical gathering of about three dozen people, two thirds Spanish speakers, the rest Brits or Scandinavians, mostly women but with a few accompanying spouses as well. The service was advanced by a day as this Thursday was already scheduled as an ecumenical Taizé prayer meeting. The service was created by a group in Taiwan this year. Come to think of it, it would already be tomorrow in the host country when we started. The text was bilingual Spanish-English. The hymns although available in translation were sung in English. We'd have been better off if all the songs had been Taizé ones, but never mind.

It was sunset when I walked back up the hill. After supper, I finished the think Patricia Cornwell novel I've been reading all week. It's taken me a long time, as the story, apart from being complex is padded out with far too much descriptive detail, some of which is repeated. This makes it ponderous rather than dramatic. As ever there's a sudden shock in the penultimate chapter, which is almost possible to predict, but leaves you filling gaps in narrative detail left unstated. Unimpressive, when the end is not exciting enough to stop you nodding off.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi Sant

I didn't have as good a night's sleep as I needed, as I woke up with a nose bleed an hour after dozing off. Clare and I exchanged greetings in Welsh, and so did everyone else on the church Daily Prayer WhatsApp group. Sadly, I didn't bring by daffodil lapel pin with me and there aren't any wearable small daffs or even baby leeks available either. Ah well, never mind.

I was out of the house and on my way to St Andrew's in good time. I forgot to take my voice recorder with me to record the sermon, and resolved to use the app on my phone instead. I set it up for use, and then forgot to switch it on, leaving me with a job to do later. It was just as well actually, as there was a workman outside the church door seven metres away from me chipping away at paving slabs around the cover of an underground duct throughout the first part of the service. Not so easy to filter out, listening to a recording as in real time.

There were eighteen of us for the Eucharist, and several more people came in for cake and coffee after the service, including a couple and their daughter who been visiting the Costa del Sol for the past forty years and for much of that time had an apartment in this area. They had been active in the days when the present church building was acquired and converted from a retail space to a worship centre twenty five years ago.

We were three again for bible study. I don't think it's the right time nor maybe the right place. It's a time when people like to get together and chat with their friends, then get themselves back for lunch, by bus train or on foot. It's a scheduled outing which few want to extend or replace with a discussion group. It's a relaxed and informal gathering, so it might be worthwhile trying an interactive session with a shorter homily, avoiding the service being prolonged uncomfortably.

After lunch, I recorded and edited the sermon and sent it to Caroline for emailing out to the online bible study circle, then walked over the hill and along the main road to investigate the Lidl supermarket to see what it might have to offer. The 'middle of Lidl' aisle is a feature here as it is in the UK, offering a few lines of clothing and shoes, domestic hardware, electrical gizmos and tools. Nothing I need, though I was tempted to buy a pair of slippers! Maybe next time.

After supper I got around to completing the download of a photo file with over 500 photos taken in Malaga in 2018, and archiving them on a memory stick. A job started and interrupted a week ago. That's reclaimed 2.5GB storage space from one of my Google Photos accounts. There's more housekeeping of that kind to do. Then, an hour's reading before bed.