Movie inspiration

I woke early and dozed off again, but for longer than usual, so it was half past eight when I got up, and had to rush breakfast and leave for St Peter's Fairwater  for the nine thirty Eucharist. It meant that I didn't have enough time to say Morning Prayer before starting the day. It was overcast and drizzling when I left and stayed like that until mid-afternoon. With the children there was a congregation of about forty. One of the youngsters assisted me as an altar server. He's still new to the job so it was more a case of me helping him rather than him helping me! Not that I mind, it's lovely that without their own regular pastor, people in the congregation are encouraging involvement in the service by children.

I didn't have time to socialise as I had to get to St Luke's and preach again while Fr Rhys presided at Mass. The traffic was awful and I made it to the church with just five minutes to spare. There was a meeting of the congregation afterwards to discuss which key points of action could be agreed upon to report next week at a meeting with Archdeacon Rod Green about the future of the church. There's a proposition on the table from a church planting group of evangelicals to share the church to develop ministry to young adults with families in the area. 

There's a measure of uncertainty and reserve about embracing this prospect, even if it could be to the financial benefit of the Parish congregation. St Luke's has an inclusive liberal Anglo-Catholic tradition, and the concern from some is that its 'offer' could be compromised by sharing with a more conservative set of values. It's good that some are thinking about this seriously. St Luke's was once a showcase for liberal Catholic culture and values, and at one time knew about how to evangelize. But, it has lost its way when it comes to propagating the ideals of what it stands for. An ageing congregation has run out of energy and not yet figured out how to continue to attract a new generation of seekers. Without its own priestly leadership, people are reluctant to commit themselves for as long as they have the energy to do anything at all. Lay leadership and initiative is capable of great things but changing the existing culture is painfully difficult.

I got home for lunch just before my usual time, but Clare had just started eating lunch as she thought I'd be back much later than usual. I'd mentioned that next weekend after Mass at St German's there's a Coronation cake and a glass of bubbly to be shared to toast the health of King Charles III, and she got the timing wrong, but never mind, we did get to eat together, just.

After lunch, while she was having a siesta, I recorded and edited this week's Thursday Morning Prayer. It had stopped raining by then, so I went for a walk in the park for a couple of hours. Then I returned, I settled down to watch the last four episodes of 'Non me lasciare' which, with a break for supper, took the rest of the evening. I found the whole production quite impressive, with an unexpectedly redemptive end to it, above and beyond the arresting of the baddies and breaking of the paedophile ring. The last of the rescued kidnap victims with no family of his own finds a welcome into the home of the lead investigator who lost her teenage son in a freak accident. I like the way it's presented in an understated way. 

I also liked the emphasis on trust in lasting friendship, and innovative teamwork between a group of experts who aren't for once, prima donnas in their field, bonded together by a strong sense of purpose. The lead investigators knew what they needed to know and could express this clearly enough for others to pursue from their expert angles what was needed for progress in the case. Everyone respected for what they could contribute. 

It's not competition for success, but co-operation for a common goal that matters to all that makes the future possible for us, so it's good to see this modelled in a story that has to find out many things before it can begin to solve the difficult challenge it faces. I don't think we're quite there yet with the St Luke's congregation in terms of teamwork. Confidence in each other's gifts and abilities still needs to be developed.

Tulip-fest in Dyffryn Gardens

Another grey start to the day, though a little warmer overnight. Clare made pancakes for breakfast again, and then late morning we drove out to Dyffryn Gardens for our first visit of the year. Cloud over Cardiff turned into thin mist over the fields of the Vale of Glamorgan, as we drove through St Nicholas, but by the time we reached Dyffryn the mist had evaporated, the sun came through the clouds and it became warmer. The house has been completely closed since last autumn and is wreathed in scaffolding for the exterior stonework to be cleaned, repaired and for weatherproofing work. Nevertheless, there were over a hundred cars parked, and lost of family groups out enjoying the arboretum and gardens. Both cafes were busy too. So good to see it's as popular as ever. Our membership card still says we're family members (accompanied children under sixteen get in free), although Clare has cancelled the family part, as our grandchildren are both over sixteen, and sadly there's no prospect of having any other young children to visit with us.

Sections of the garden are still closed to tackle issues caused by dominant plant root systems restricting the growth potential of other species. The beds at the front of the house are crammed with dozens of tulip varieties, and it's a spectacular riot of colour.

We had a light lunch in the garden cafe (at the far side of the house in the photo above) and walked around the grounds for an hour. Clare and I got separated, and I waited for her on a seat beneath a tree where I was joined by a robin, which sat on the arm of the seat and stared at me with indignation before flying off, a ritual repeated several times. Robins are very territorial! On its last visit I got a couple of decent photos at about a metre away from the camera. I don't think I've ever taken a photo of a bird at such short range.

Both of us were feeling tired by this time, so we drove home and had a short siesta to recover. Then I went out again for a circuit of the park before cooking supper, with a sauce of butter beans, onions and mushrooms with vegan chorizo for Clare and the same sauce with tomatoes added plus half of the Mercadona chorizo I brought home with me from Fuengirola. Delicious! 

I spent the rest of the evening watching more episodes of 'Non me lasciare'. Quite apart from its setting in contemporary Venice, and romantic relationships with its origins in the city, it tells the story of an investigation into an organised criminal gang with paedophile perpetrators and clients, operating on the 'dark web' and gives an interesting insight into the kind of teamwork necessary to get the job done. The speed and efficiency with which the technology works does stretch the imagination a little, however.

Pleasure in diverse languages

At last, after breakfast while I was saying Morning Prayer, the sun poked its way through the clouds. It was twelve degrees overnight rising to sixteen this afternoon. About the same as the Costa del Sol was in mid March. It's twenty five degrees there today, and threatening to rise to forty in the interior, dangerously early in the year. If we're near the point irreversible damage has been done to the planetary environment, it's a consequence of denying what industrialisation has done for the past half century, in the name of the gods of wealth and increase, which as scripture suggests, always consume their worshippers in the end.

It took me most of the morning to prepare a sermon for this Good Shepherd Sunday. In the mail from my sister June, a document to sign accepting power of attorney in case her mind should deteriorate and she loses her grip on personal affairs. For the moment she's as sharp as ever and interested in life, but she's a good planner, and manages very well, despite the difficulties she has navigating the shifting sands of cloud based personal computing, and the storms of random ads and bewildering notifications which pop up on her screen she doesn't know how to deal with breaking her concentration on tasks in hand. 

This makes me angry too, being pestered constantly by irrelevant information, and I've fine tuned my devices to eliminate most of these notifications and get rid of ones which appear during updates. Not so easy to do this with my infrequent visits to London. I really should install remote access software at both ends to deal with some of these problems. I cooked mussels with veggies for lunch, and after an hour's siesta, went for a walk up to the Cathedral and on to Llandaff weir, the first time I've been up there this year, I think. 

When I got back I continued watching 'Helsinki Murders' penultimate episode, and then after supper the final one. A good watch. Interesting to hear dialogue in Finnish as it's so different from other European languages with few borrowed words to recognise in the stream of dialogue. 

Then I spent an hour reading 'Soldados de Salamina'. The story of a fugitive hiding from his executioners in a forest is powerful to read, even if I lack many descriptive words I can still follow the story, although Javier Cercas writes very long sentences which doesn't make comprehension easier. Then it was time for 'Astrid - Murders in Paris', and then an Italian series 'Non me lasciare' set in Venice. It's a rare day in which I can pass time immersing myself in four different foreign language stories, just for pleasure.

Getting ahead

Another cold grey drizzly sort of day. I posted today's Morning Prayer video link to WhatsApp just before 'Thought for the Day', and then got up for breakfast. Before going to the Eucharist at St John's I edited the amendments for eulogy at next Tuesday's funeral and emailed them to the next of kin. There were eight of us for the service. The widow and three of the children of the deceased whose funeral I'm taking a week Tuesday arrived at church to talk through the details with me. 

I learned that he'd spent his working life as a steward on board cruise liners. In his younger days he'd stewarded on the last voyage of the Queen May to its final resting place as shore bound tourist destination in Long Beach California, and had sailed around the world twice in the course of his career. Quite a life for a lad from Riverside Taff Embankment Cardiff.

After parting company I went to Tesco's nearby for my weekly Foodbank shopping. After hearing about the dental health concerns for people on benefits who cannot afford toothbrushes and toothpaste on news, the bulk of my purchase the week was these items. The gulf between the haves and have nots in Britain is getting even wider due to inflation, and state support for the low paid and unwaged which always seems to be less adequate than it needs to be.

While I was in there I heard a rumpus with the sound of breaking bottles. It seems that the same drug addicted man was in store stealing hard liquor, as he did last week when I was there. One male member of staff and a customer obstructed him and prevented him from making off with bottles of spirits, but he ran away. It seems the security guard's shift doesn't start until one. There are a couple of male staff and a dozen female. 

The manager doesn't call the police and staff don't attempt to detain him because of risk to themselves. I was told the man steals spirits and sells them to street drinkers to raise money but drugs. It costs the store several hundred pounds a week in lost or broken items. The police may arrest but charges aren't made. What about banning him with an ASBO? What about involving psychiatric social workers to get these guys treatment for their addictions? I feel so sorry for the supermarket staff who may have to deal with incidents like this several times a day.

After taking my donation back to church, I went home for lunch. Clare cooked me a huge thick gammon steak stewed long and slow in apple juice with cloves. Perfectly delicious, though I needed a siesta to let it digest nicely. Then I went to the Co-op for this week's grocery shopping, and then a walk in the park before supper. 

Before settling down to finish the day with more 'Helsinki Crimes' I finished preparing the texts for the Daily Office and Reflection for the next two weeks, and orders of service for the two funerals I've got in the coming weeks. With some extra services to take while Mother Frances is away, it's good to get ahead on routine preparations, so that I won't feel under pressure, Then I can enjoy what I do even more.

Landmark tree demise

Cold and overcast today. After breakfast I sent the draft eulogy written last night, and then went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's celebrated for just four of us by Archbishop Rowan. He had coffee with us in the church hall afterwards, and in the course of conversation said that he still gets seventy emails a day - ten years into retirement! I get a small fraction of that amount and am grateful as it means I don't have to spend nearly as much time doing this as I used to. 

Clare cooked pease pudding and quinoa for lunch, using the split peas I mistakenly purchased instead of lentils some time ago. It made a pleasant change. It's a pity that they take much longer than lentils to cook as that's a deterrent to using them to make a quick meal. 

After lunch. Then I went to Beanfreaks and collected groceries ordered by Clare, then I worked on files Ruth emailed me of two weeks worth of texts for Morning Prayer, so prepared these and wrote one of the reflections, before going out for a walk in the park. 

It was a quite a shock to find that a prominent Elm tree situated on the allotment boundary had been felled. It died of disease some years ago. It lost its bark and slim dried out branches to wind and rain, and had weathered to a strikingly stark silvery skeleton. It was standing there stark and solitary against the western horizon only yesterday. Today it's in pieces on the ground behind a cordon of safety tape. It'll take time to get used to the visual change in the local landscape. I was surprised when I looked through my photo archive to find just one photo of this tree, from five years old, although there may be others filed in an obscure location, as I reckon it's been dead longer than that.

After supper, I watched a couple more episodes of 'Helsinki Crimes', which puts the spotlight on what drives different people to murder another person. Portraits of mental health issues as a result of substance or sexual abuse or domestic violence are highlighted in an apparently wholesome attractive environment. It also portrays the impact of these crimes of investigating officers and their families, and so far none of cops seem to be dysfuctional, which is a bit unusual in series like this.

Limitations

A lovely bright and sunny day, but still as cold as it was in February. After breakfast Clare made things ready for the visit of her study, so I drove over to the School of Optometry to collect my spec's from their change of nose pad. The new pads are larger and more comfortable. And it was done for free!

I drove from there to a house on the edge of the Parish for a bereavement visit. When I got back Clare was cooking a fish pie mix with a sauce made from the experimental pesto I made with rocket leaves a few days ago. The pesto gave the sauce a nice pale green colour, but it had little flavour. An experiment not worth repeating. I could have walked to both of these appointments, but not with them back to back, so I needed to use the car, desirable or not. 

It's due to be re-insured at the end of this month, and for the first time in over fifty years, Clare will not be named as a second driver, because of her failing eyesight. It's a sad landmark in an active mobile life. Forty years ago she owned a camper van and commuted to Bristol from Chepstow to work. On holiday in France, Switzerland and Italy, we took it in turns to drive. Now both of us are content to use public transport, and wonder if we could manage altogether without a car.

I siesta'd for an hour after lunch, then went for a walk around Thompsons Park and Llandaff Fields, then down to the the shops on Cowbridge Road to buy a pack of disposable razors. I don't think I am going to be able to use my electric razor any more. Although the charging cable I bought last week fits, the chargers I have aren't power rated high enough to charge it properly. I'm just leaving it on for several days to see if it will gain any charge  at all.

Clare went off to choir practice, so I had supper on my own, and started watching a 'Helsinki Crimes' a Finnish crimmie series on telly, set in city. After she returned, I relinquished the telly to her, so she could watch another 'Call the Midwife' episode. She's binge watching old episodes at the moment. Instead of watching the rest of the episode on my laptop, I set to work writing the eulogy for the first of the two funerals I'm booked to take in the next few weeks, and made contact with the next of kin about the other funeral, and arranged to see the family at St John's after Mass on Thursday.

Nose Pads

Overcast with rain all morning, housework after breakfast, then this Thursday's Morning Prayer video to complete before cooking lunch. It was gone three and had stopped raining when I set out for the University Optometrists School to get my mid-range spec's repaired, and a learned a new term, 'nose pad', that's what the call the tiny pieces of plastic attached to the rim of each lens to relieve the wearer's nose from pressure due to wearing spec's. 

The word is obvious when you think about it, but I had to resort to 'show and tell' with the receptionist to explain my mission, and she introduced me to the word. A quick repair wasn't possible as nobody was free to do it, so I agreed to return tomorrow to collect them. This pair dates from before my cataract operation, but they still serve their purpose well, almost as good as the newer ones, so worth the effort of getting the repair done.

I went into town on the bus as far as the bottom of Cathedral Road, and walked through Bute Park up to the main gate at the junction of North Road and Corbett Road, but returned directly to Blackweir Bridge from the gate, and then home. At Clare's suggestion, I called at Lidl's, next to the School for some packets of nuts and sunflower seeds, and was back in time for tea. I downloaded half a dozen zipped archive files of photos and deleted them from my main Gmail account. It keeps complaining that I'm running out of space, but that's because it wants me to rent more space, which I see no reason to do. It's a chore which I started doing in Fuengirola and it was terribly slow, because of the low broadband speed. Here at home the download speed is 50mbs and upload is 18mbs, so downloading big zipped files didn't take long at all.

In the evening I finished watching episodes 5 and 6 of 'Inspector Ricciardi'. That's the end of the first series. There is a second series of four episodes, eventually a few more, as the fourth only aired in Italy last month. It'll be a while before these appear on 'Walter Presents', but worth waiting for. There's a love story unfolding through the whole series, and each different episode gives you an interesting perspective on Neapolitan life and society in the twenties. 

It's great that the dialogue is so clear. All that I've learned from Spanish and knew from learning Italian fifty years ago makes the dialogue easy to follow, as the languages have so much in common. Maybe the dialect is easier to decode due to the remote influence of the period in which Sicily and Southern Italy were colonised by Spain in the 16th-18th century. My only criticism of the the production is that the streets look remarkably clean, as do the ragazzi who live in poverty on the streets.

Gobbledegook alarm

Another cloudy start to a cold morning, but when I arrived at St German's to celebrate the Eucharist the sun shone for a while and illuminated the church with shafts of light for much of the service, and then the sky clouded over again. There were thirty three of us for the service. Angela gave me a belated birthday bottle of Cote du Rhone Villages wine from the vineyards of a Carthusian terroir in Provence.

After the service I was chatting with Terry and he was telling me about his involvement with a group which organises a yearly outing to Lundy Island on the MV Balmoral, of which he is a trustee. He organises a choral BCP Evensong in the island's church of St Helena, built in 1896, though there's been a Christian foundation on Lundy since the sixth century. The island has a population of 28 humans and multitudes of birds including a puffin colony. Services in the church are rare events, and the island is twelve miles off the North Devon coast, part of Hartland Coast Parish near Bideford.

It was one fifteen when I got back home for lunch. Afterwards, I fell asleep in the chair for more than an hour, and was waking up when the national emergency alarm test broadcast was made. My phone buzzed and shrieked at me, and a full screen message appeared saying what was happening in Welsh and English. A bizarre audio version of the message was delivered. The first half of the message sounded like a set of unintelligible words in a foreign language, sheer gobbledegook, and the second half was in plain speech delivered by a synthesised voice. 

This seems to have been the product of a text-to-speech applet at work, incapable of rendering Welsh words properly. It was puzzling most confusing. I look forward to an explosion of outrage from Welsh politicians about this in the next few days. On the parish WhatsApp some people reported not receiving the message, others said the alarm was very quiet. Maybe that was because their phone's speaker volume was auto-reduced while using headphone and not reset afterwards.

As I had fallen asleep listening to music on Radio Three and the alarm went off at three, it was followed by Choral Evensong, which I sat and listened to. It came from Cirencester's Parish Church beautifully sung by the choir of Gonville and Caius College Cambridge, including several Psalm chants which were new to me, full of unusual dissonant harmonies and cadences which fitted well with the emotion of the words being sung. It's inspiring, the way old Prayer Book texts are still able to inspire musical creativity in contemporary composers, just as ancient Latin texts do.

Then, after a cup of tea, walking in cold wind around the park for an hour and a half, followed by supper and another episode of Inspector Ricciardi, touching again on the terrible poverty of Southern Italy in the years between the wars

Farewell Sister Gillian

It was cold and cloudy when I left after breakfast to drive to Ty Mawr Convent for the first time in about five years. The Vale of Usk was wreathed in mist as I drove up the A449 to Monmouth, I drove through and out of it on the ascent to Penallt and the convent, though the sky wasn't altogether clear.

Sister Gillian Mary, the last of the generation of Sisters whom I go to knew well when we lived in Chepstow, died on Easter Tuesday aged 82. A wonderful woman, whose ecological vision for the acres of land around the convent, which the community still owns, has led to a landmark rural conservation project. It includes re-planting hedgerows, restoring the pond fed by the spring which was the original water supply for the convent, and planting more trees. Especially apple trees. 

In the basement of the fine Victorian house which is the convent's main building is a cellar with built-in trays for storing apples, pears and other long lasting fruit. It was an amazing discovery when I was staying there on retreat, as each of the storage trays was labelled with the name of the particular variety of fruit. This was an indication of the variety of trees planted in the convent orchard. Over the many of the trees had got damaged by the weather or died of old age, but at some stage in the past decade, someone else had realised that this unique horticultural asset could be restored with new trees. I don't think all the trees that were in their original positions on the lawn to the side of the house have been replaced, but better than that a new site in an adjoining meadow in front of the house has been planted out with new trees honouring the old fruit varieties. Such a joy to behold!

There wasn't time to explore the development of the conservation project today. A return visit is needed, in due course. Today was about honouring the life for Gillian and saying farewell to her. I had to park my car on a track at the side of the field leading up to Michaelgarth the guest house, along with about fifteen others. The front of house spaces were reserved for people who couldn't walk or who needed to make a quick getaway after the service. 

Dominic, a previous Bishop of Monmouth, the community's episcopal visitor presided at the Requiem Mass, another previous Bishop of Monmouth Archbishop Rowan preached a beautifully poetic homily reflecting of the holiness of belonging to a particular place and called to flourish there and enable it to flourish. He quoted from two of Gillian's poems which had been included in the order of service. I didn't see Richard the last Bishop of Monmouth there, but Cherry the current Bishop was in the congregation along with another Bishop I didn't recognise. That's a lot of Bishops in one service, and it testifies to the many friendships that characterised Gillian's life and her leadership ministry in the community. She did a long stint, perhaps twenty years as Reverend Mother.

It was Requiem Mass in Eastertide, serene and joyful, sung with simplicity. After Communion, everyone processed across the old orchard lawns to the Campo Santo the Sisters' burying ground, sheltered by a huge oak tree, with a bronze representation of the crucified body of Christ nailed to it, and over decades being slowly enfolded by it. The lawn is alive with spring flowers right now. Flowers bedecked the edge of Gillian's grave, ready to welcome her body, and the congregation circled round after the Committal and dropped twigs of rosemary on to her coffin. And the sun peeped through the clouds.

The community prepared a feast of a lunch for over sixty guests. I enjoyed a plate of cous-cous with a spicy veggie sauce, and then took my leave, as I'd promised to return as soon as I could in order to take the mixer back to Currys. It wasn't so easy, however as there were half a dozen cars parked in front of me on the track and it took another half an hour before the owners took their leave and unblocked the path to the lane outside the grounds. I was home by twenty to four, so we loaded the mixer into the car and went to the store on Newport Road.

At the store the man on the returns desk checked the contents and initially realised why we we certain the blender wasn't the correct piece of kit, but he realised something we didn't. The interface attaching the blender to the machine is different in the way it works from the one on the machine we've had for twenty five years. The mounting is spring loaded and requires a clockwise twist to lock before use. The machine's instruction booklet has an inaccurate diagram without textual description. The diagram shows that it needs a quarter of a turn to lock, but in reality it requires only a tenth of a turn, and only when it is at that thirty six degree angle can the blender fit on to the body of the machine, if and only if you realise that you have to press down as it's spring loaded. The staff accepted this and payment was refunded. Now Clare is going to order one on-line which is exactly what she wants rather than almost. One that was not available in store.

When we got home Clare warmed up the lunch I'd missed to have for supper. Afterwards I uploaded the few photos of the day I'd taken and watched another episode of Inspector Ricciardi before bed. It's very good in its portrayal of life in Naples in the era of fascism with blackshirt thugs patrolling the streets pretending to impose law and order, and courtship rituals of the era.

Packing error

Another cold day with the return of overcast skies and light rain until mid-afternoon, deterring me from going out altogether in the morning. June rang me in distress as she'd lost control of her email window on her computer and couldn't see any complete messages. Emailing her back was no good, nor was  calling her to explain. It has to be show and tell, and at the moment there's nobody available in the Opus Dei centre across the road to help her. I need to set up a remote access link to her computer from mine so I can trouble shoot and explain as I go along on the phone.

My old friend and colleague Tom Arthur emailed me out of the blue with questions about St Luke's and someone I didn't know whom he'd met the day before in the park. Despite problems due to osteoporosis which took a long time to obtain a correct diagnosis for he's still active taking services. He's a year older than me and has to cope with much pain when standing which is exhausting. 

The United Reformed Church, of which he is a retired Minister is like the Church in Wales, very short of clergy, so like me, he just keeps doing locum preachments. I was delighted that he emailed me a set of his three recent sermons. He's always been engaging, scholarly and a poetic story teller in the great Protestant pastoral tradition. Would that we had more of it these days. 

I fear that preaching in the age of digital communication has become rather lightweight and not long enough to really explore issues deeply. Although I work hard on mine, to condense what I have to say into no more than a thousand words, ten to twelve minutes, I accuse myself of this fault too.

I steamed coley and veg for lunch, then wrote and printed off my Sunday sermon for St German's. Then we drove to Curry's superstore on Newport Road to buy a food mixer Clare had spotted on line.. We were served by a Mexican guy called Miguel, and Clare egged me on to talk with him in Spanish which I did after we'd paid. His accent was distinctive but his command of English excellent, so he understood my Spanish but replied in English on auto-pilot, as he was in role doing his job.

When we got home and unpacked the Kenwood Chef we'd bought, it turned out its food mixer device was different from the one designed to fit on the machine, somewhere along the line there had been a packing error. For this reason, we'll have to pack it up and exchange it. A lot more hassle than we had imagined.

After supper I watched the latest episode of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris', all about suspicious deaths in a music conservatoire. Rachel rang towards the end to enthuse about her new 'cello, which has arrived recently. I'll have to listen again to the last ten minutes on catch-up. Time for bed now.

Back in action

It was such a relief to wake up with morning and find symptoms of reaction to the jab had gone. I woke up at six thirty and posted this week's Morning Prayer video link to WhatsApp. The day off-grid seems to have done me good. My ankle was pain free all day and I walked to the Eucharist at St John's at a pace quicker than I have done for a long time. There were six of us for the service, celebrated by Father Jessie, standing in for Mother Frances who had a funeral to take. Afterwards I went to Tesco's to buy supplies for the foodbank. 

Just after I arrived there was an altercation near the checkouts between the security guard and a man stealing a couple of bottles of rum, who kept on saying "Sorry, I can't help myself, I've got to have this." Then he ran off smashing one of the bottles. A drug addict wanting to numb the impact of withdrawal symptoms maybe. Minutes later I heard one of the checkout staff telling another that the man would be back again to try again later in the day. This may happen so often that the police aren't called any longe

I dropped off the bag of groceries at the church, went home and cooked lunch. Afterwards I completed and recorded the biblical reflection written for next week's Morning Prayer, then went for a walk along the path through the woods alongside the Taff. I saw a family of three egrets on the river  near the Western Avenue bridge, and a Goosander, plus several mating pairs of Mallards and a pair of wagtails on the wing. That's almost as many recognisable birds as I saw in Fuengirola.

Clare went out to choir practice. I've decided not to continue singing with the Fountain Choir for the time being. I want to direct my spare energy elsewhere. This evening I caught up on the much acclaimed fact based drama series 'The Gold' about the Brink's-Matt bullion robbery back in 1983, very impressive story telling. 

Jab reaction

I didn't sleep well and felt sluggish, but made the effort to go to the Eucharist at St Catherine's along with ten others. By the time we went over to the church hall afterwards my body was beginning to ache with 'flu like symptoms I'd been warned at the vaccination centre yesterday might be a reaction to the jab. It was an effort to walk to Easton Place to collect this week's veggie bag. 

After lunch I went to bed, and slept on and off until supper time. There was no point in fighting against the ache of exhaustion. I had a few tasks lined up to do, but the only one I managed was to email my end of stay report to Emma the locum coordinator at Euro-diocese HQ. In the evening I watched another episode of 'Inspector Ricciardi'. This is one of the worst reactions I've had to a covid jab - the Pfizer vaccine is notorious for this it seems, even if it's regarded as very effective. Just have to weather the storm and hope it will ease off tomorrow.

Not dead after all

Last night when I went to bed, I forgot to unplug the dead Chromebook from the charger. This morning after breakfast, when I went to disconnect it, the charging light was on. When I opened the lid, it sprang into life again, presenting me with the new user's set-up screen. There were three hours worth of charge in the device too. Having restored it to factory settings last night, I had to go through the rigmarole of adding my email and blog accounts all over again, but that's made easier by the fact that Chrome browser's data is replicated on every device you maintain properly. Nothing is lost, only a little time. What a relief! I don't need to go shopping for a new one. 

Clare went to her study group after breakfast and I went to the phone repair shop to get the broken screen replaced, and then to the Co-op for the week's grocery shopping and cooked mussels with pasta and veg for lunch. Cooking was done just as Clare came through the door. It's satisfying to get the timing right.

After eating, I took a short siesta and read a few pages of my Spanish Civil War novel by Javier Cercas for an hour. It must be a couple of months since I was last reading it but I had no difficulty picking up where I left off. A four page of an account about of a massacre of prisoners with almost no survivors isn't the most cheering of reads, and there were lots of words I needed to look up for clarity, but I'm surprised how much of the narrative thread I can follow with intermediate Spanish. There are many more Spanish cuentas, I'd like to get around to reading.

At three, I drove down to the phone repair shop the collect my phone. It cost me seventy quid and another five for the screen protector I should have bought to avoid breaking the screen the first place. From there I drove up to the Mass Vaccination Centre in Llanishen for my fifth (or sixth?) covid jab. I arrived twenty minutes early, and was dealt with immediately. I was sitting in the car 'recovering' at the time of my actual appointment, and home in time for tea.

Clare went out to her meditation group, and on a whim, I cooked the remainder of the Fuet  brought home with me from Spain into a spicy salsa, some of which to eat on toast for supper, the rest for tomorrow. It's full of flavour and less chewy when cooked. That's the best way to use it in my opinion. It's tougher and drier even in thin slices than the average salchichon. The texture and flavour reminds me of Italian pancetta which I've also used to flavour sauces from time to time.

A message from Mother Frances arrived requesting cover for a funeral while she's away in three weeks time. So now I have two lined up for the coming weeks.

This evening, browsing on More Four Walter Presents, I found a new Italian crimmie set in 1930's Naples called 'Inspector Ricciardo', a beautifully drawn period piece with lengthy complex story lines like Inspector Montalbano, some interesting characters, but without the comic interludes, stunning palacial interiors and Neapolitan streets and people a bit too clean and tidy for authenticity. Ricciardo is a bit psychic, but this doesn't dominate the narrative. An enjoyable watch. And now to bed.

Chromebook unexpected demise

Another cool and cloudy day and a return to Monday morning household chores after breakfast. At last I got around to dealing with three months worth of unopened mail, sorting out the junk mail from routine newsletters bank statements, and occasional cards and letters. Much to recycle, some yet to file away. Car insurance renewal cost is fifty quid extra. We talk of getting rid of it, but life could be problematic without one, even though we don't use it much.

Then after lunch we did need to use it to get to back to back appointments with Kay our osteomyologist. I booked an appointment with her when I was still in Spain. Clare sent her a message early this morning and fortunately Kay was able to fit her in as well. Kay's house in Newport is at the top of the hill in St Julian's and it would take half a day to get there by public transport instead of a couple of hours. As ever, I found the treatment beneficial, except that I was tired when we got back, and ended up not going to Caerphilly to Emma's licensing as Ministry Area Leader. Whether by car, or by train or bus from the city centre, the trip would have required more energy than I had left, and pushing myself hard isn't a good idea after treatment. There was a message on the answering machine when I got back from John at Pidgeon's asking if I'd be free to take a funeral in three weeks time.

I went to use my Chromebook to check some data and found it was almost drained of power. I plugged it in and it displayed signs of a faulty power connection. I swapped the charger to a different socket, and then tried another charger of the same kind, but the same result, with the power indicator flashing and the screen brightness fluctuating in the way it does with a power supply fault. Both chargers worked perfectly with my other laptop. 

The only conclusion I could come to was that the input socket or the power regulator on the device motherboard is now broken. Once the battery drains, the Chromebook is dead. With only fifteen minutes charge left, I had to find out how to return the device to factory settings to remove all my accounts and data from it. I did it, but with very little time left to spare. I can take it to Davey at Tourotech and ask him to give it to his mate who recycles electronic waste. It came out of the factory in Taiwan in November 2018 and I bought it in June 2019, just under four years ago. It was a nice machine to use and of quality build - superficially. Owain is still using an seven year old Chromebook I bequeathed to him when I bought the Asus. Now I have to check out what's available of an equivalent specification.

After supper I watched the final couple of episodes of 'Those who kill', then completed work on the Morning Prayer video for Thursday and uploaded it to YouTube. 

Easter returns

Another chilly cloudy day with a leisurely start, happy to be driving through town in light traffic to reach St German's to celebrate the Eucharist at eleven. I've looked forward to this for a long time, being reunited with the congregation and singing the Solemn Mass again with a full team of six servers, three of them children. I've spent more time at St G's since retirement than I've spent on locum duty in Europe and missed being there. There were forty of us altogether, including a new family living in the neighbourhood. 

Eye surgeon Andrew, recently returned from his work in Malawi was there on his first Sunday back in Cardiff after his three month stint at the new eye surgery centre in Mulanje Mission hospital in the south of the country. The devastating storms that hit Southern Africa last month hit Malawi on a weekend when he and Sally were away for the weekend and for several days the roads were impassable. A big tree fell near the eye clinic, but didn't cause any damage, so it wasn't long before clinical work could continue. Angela gave me copies of end of stay reports from the two of them. Sally is an Occupational Therapist and developing an innovative partnership with Andrew to teach trained physiotherapists diagnostic skills in relation to eye ailments. It will increase clinic capacity and improve workflow in high demand times. It's a wonderful project.

I was back home for lunch at one. While Clare was having a siesta after, I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer audio, and dozed off while doing so. A quick nap revived me, then we went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields before supper. The evening was devoted to watching more episodes of the Danish crimmie 'Those who kill', currently being aired on BBC 4 Saturday nights.

  

Pugh's Garden Centre visit

A bright and sunny day, but not very warm. Pancakes for breakfast, then work on next Thursday's Morning Prayer, and on a sermon for tomorrow. We had lunch in the garden as the sun warmed the place up. Inside the house seems not to warm up so quickly. 

I went into town before lunch to see if a central market hardware stalls sold shaver chargers, as the place had been closing by the time I got there yesterday. I was lucky to have got my watch battery fixed in the time available. There's always been an a strange assortment of traders up on the balcony selling electrical components, second hand records, and ironmongery, pets and pet food. Admittedly I've not been upstairs since before covid, but I was shocked to find that many of these had disappeared and have been replaced by various fancy eateries. 

It no longer looks as seedy as it used to, a lot smarter in fact, and very much in keeping with a trend observed in other central markets in UK and Europe to showcase cooked food made from products traded downstairs. It was something  talked about twenty years ago when I was Vicar of the City Parish Church across the street from the Market. It's a huge improvement to a classic Victorian city building.

There's a couple of hardware retailers left on the ground floor now, and when I enquired, I was offered not an old type charger, but its replacement in the form of a USB cable with a shaver socket end to it, which can used with a USB charging plug, of which I have plenty. A far better solution altogether, and the cable only cost me four pounds and fifty. And, it works!

After Clare's siesta, we drove out to Pugh's Garden centre in Morganstown, for some compost, a growbag, plus some sprouting beans to grown in it, some organic fertilizer and a tray of bedding plants. With both of us needing to mind our backs, we sought assistance from one of the female staff members for help to load the car. She was young and strong enough to do this with ease, as we used to be at her age I guess. We had not thought through the logistics of getting the heavy bags into the garden through the house. I got them out of the car, but dared not risk carrying them, so Clare found an old curtain to lay them on, and we began dragging them along the pavement. A man from a neighbouring street saw us struggling and kindly offered to carry them through for us, so the job was soon done without incident. What a blessing!

When I walked down Llandaff Road on my way to the shops, I found there was a notice on the gate of the corner house on the crossroads with Romilly Road, which has lost some of its big trees since I was away. It told me that the house was called 'The Cedars' which I didn't know before. It seems the trees cut down were nearing the end of their lives, more prone to disease and storm damage as a result of climate change. The notice announced a programme of re-planting with more resilient trees destined for a long life, which is a positive measure. It also said the property is to be restored as a domestic dwelling, and hopefully this means it won't be demolished an replaced by a block of low-rise apartments. We shall see. 

After supper and printing out tomorrow's sermon, another evening of catch up binge watching of another series of Danish crimmie 'Those who kill'. It's a bit slow, but an interesting story of hidden child abuse and neglect, with the trauma it causes leading murderous acts of rage on the part of the victim years after he'd been groomed and abused. Thoughtfully done. 

Errands

A cold day with drizzle for much of the time. The demands of travelling yesterday and re-starting normal life left us both tired and we got up late. It seems I lost my electric razor charger when packing to leave, so I now have to buy a replacement. I intended to go into town in the morning but never got around to it with various phone calls and messages to tackle.

After cooking lunch, I embarked on urgent errands, including a visit to the surgery to drop off my prescription renewal form, a visit to the bank in town to deposit a small tax rebate cheque at HSBC, and to the travel agents to convert surplus euros into sterling - somewhat less than I'd expected. The cheque I had to deposit was larger than standard banking size and bank's cheque deposit machine malfunctioned, telling me that I wasn't using a cheque deposit paying in slip when I was using one. A counter clerk did the job manually for me. A slightly bizarre experience.  

Then I hunted for an equivalent razor, but couldn't find anything suitable to buy. It means a trip to the big Tesco and B&M tomorrow to see if there's more of a choice there. Finally, I went to the market to get the battery changed in my watch, as it faded and died in Spain. 

The watch repairer took it apart and got it to work, but said he wasn't sure if it wouldn't do the same thing again, due to its age. He handed it back to me with a new battery in it, and refused to accept payment for something he couldn't guarantee would last. I was willing to buy a new Casio from him but they are no longer stoked, most people want something more sophisticated. 

I have noticed that electrical goods stocked by retailers are not as many or varied as a few years back. There's less in-store choice and that may simply be a result of more people buying on-line. If you want an item that may have been state of the art a few years ago but been superceded, on-line may be your only option. The kind of electric razor bought in Boots last autumn is no longer on the shelf, and prices of ones that are on display now are that much higher. 

I discovered that a second series of the More Four French crimmie series 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' has started recently so I spent the evening binge watching three episodes in a row, although I was nodding off towards the end. 

Homecoming

We were awake and up by quarter to seven. John arrived early at a quarter to ten for the hand over of keys and then he drove us to the station. We caught the train before the one we intended to catch. Surprisingly it was packed all the way, and it was difficult with our amount of luggage. I was unable to reclaim the ten euro for the free abono recorrido, although the info screens on the train said you could from the machines at the station. The guy helping people buy their incoming tickets said it was necessary to go to a station with a ticket office. I suspect that real reason is that the four airport machines are so busy with purchases they're not available for refunds. It's possible that as I paid by card the sum may be paid by reverse debit after the ticket expires on the 30th April. We'll see. But it has been immensely valuable, all this free public transport. If only more towns and cities did this, it could turn out to be a stimulus to the economy.

The EasyJet queue to drop off Clare's bag wasn't all that long, and the security clearance queues moved with easy efficiency, so with an hour before the flight boarded we were able to have a drink and something to eat. The flight was delayed a little boarding, and it seemed to take ages taxiing before we reached the take-off runway. From boarding starting to actual take off took an hour so we were off the ground at two, and heading north west past Madrid and over the Bay of Biscay towards Southampton and Bristol. During the ascent I caught a good view from the window of the Laguna de Piedra, last visited on my birthday five years ago. There was just a small blue slick of water visible in the middle of a vast white salt pan. Early Spring back then, the entire lake was full. It does evaporate a lot in summer and autumn, but not normally this early. I wonder were its tens of thousands of flamingos have gone?

We landed at four UK time, and by the time we'd cleared passport control, reclaimed Clare's case and walked to the coach station it was four thirty, with a coach due at five fifteen. It came in half an hour early, perhaps because drivers have to sell tickets to those who don't have one as well as check tickets of those who do. I had a return ticket, but Clare didn't, so had to buy one from a kindly driver who only asked ten pounds. I think it costs more, but it seems his ticket machine was broken!

We were back in the house by eight. I dragged the cases home while Clare went to the Pontcanna Street Co-op and bought some groceries to get us started on re-stocking with fresh food. After supper the usual tasks of unpacking, sorting out the washing. I updated my desktop computer, and didn't fancy looking at the mail, so I watched the last episode of 'Happy Valley' on iPlayer instead, nearly falling asleep. It's the episode which aired the weekend after I left for Spain. Movingly completed, is all I can say.

Farewells and final tasks

Awake at twenty to seven when I heard the bathroom fan start up, as Owain started getting ready to leave. I got up and made him coffee and toast, then at seven fifteen drove him to Los Boliches Station. As we drove out the sun, was just below the horizon and the sky a lovely reddish orange colour. On the way back I took photos of the horizon featuring the famous Osborne Bull, but the result was disappointing. I should have gone back for a proper camera. Well, maybe tomorrow.

Owain just caught the 07.21 to the airport, the train before he planned to take. He said it was packed with early morning commuters. By the time the others got up for a brunch of sorts, he messaged to say that he was in the airport departure area, with an hour to wait. I guess we're all rather prone to arrive earlier than we need, even with just hand luggage, when travelling from an unfamiliar airport in holiday season times.

Guest bed sheets were piled into the washing machine as soon as everyone was up, and out on the line to dry. Then the others went to the pool for a swim in the bright morning sun. The swimming towels are the next batch to go into the washing machine. Kath kindly swept through the ground floor, to give us a head start for our clean-up later on. I drove the three of them to the station for a train at two. Owain had already landed in Bristol by then, and reporting how cold and wet it was. Such a sharp contrast from here at the moment. Kath's flight was delayed so it was mid-evening before they reached a chilly Kenilworth.

As well as doing the washing, the house has to be cleaned through, and food organised for storage until the next locum arrives. At six we drove down to La Cala de Mijas, taking with us all the fresh veggies and other opened food stuffs they could make use of plus a chunk of my birthday cake to share. I also gave them their Easter Communion, as both were poorly on Sunday and unable to attend church. It was good to spend time with them again, given all we did together nine years ago. We were glad to spend our last evening with them.

When we returned, we had our bags to pack and floors to clean. Then we went to bed early to be sure of getting an early start in the morning, with a ten twenty departure in mind.

Tired family

Seventy eight today. Oh dear, so old, so much not yet achieved or completed, and time seems to go by faster than ever. We're all looking older, and the only one to benefit from this is Rhiannon, who is leaving adolescence behind for womanhood without anxiety  A cool cloudy start to the day with sea mist blown in-shore by the wind. The sun didn't appear until the afternoon, then the temperature shot up to 23C. A late, sluggish start to the day again as we were all tired. There were presents and flowers awaiting me on a birthday table in the lounge but rather than open them straight away I chose to leave it until tea time when the cake baked by Clare and decorated by Rhiannon would be ready to eat.

Clare and I went to meet Ann over coffee with a small thankyou gift at Granier's pasteleria. The children met us briefly there and went for a pre-lunch paseo while we walked back to the house, as I had forgotten to top up my wallet with cash to pay for lunch, having decided to treat the family to my birthday lunch. 

We booked a table at 'La Esquinita', a restaurant which has a butcher's shop next to it on the corner of the street. It's always busy when I pass by at lunch time, with tables on the street and a comedor that can take fifty indoors. The food was excellent, and the service quite quick considering how full the place was at two, when locals tend to eat their midday meal. And it was more a restaurant for locals than tourists. Three of us had swordfish steaks, a pasta 'n chips with salad option was negotiated for Rhiannon, Anto and I had pork meat balls in different sauces, all washed down with a decent Rioja.

We walked down the Paseo Maritime to Fuengirola afterwards, where Clare and I caught the L3 bus back to the urbanizacion from outside Dunne's Stores, while the others walked on for a while before returning on foot for a swim before a cup of tea, with birthday chocolate cake and present opening. Then a piecemeal snack supper, and lazy evening of banter and restaurant review writing. Rachel called to wish me a happy birthday. Her work  life on several fronts seems to be picking up in a pleasing way. We miss her, but have to settle for video calls whenever these are possible.

It's funny how tired you can get when taking time out from the pressure of everyday life for three days of family celebrating and catch-up. Recovery rather than rest, hopefully enough to make a difference to the daily grind after the trip home, wishing the stay could have been longer.

Málaga family visit

A warm day, 28C sunny but hazy, with breakfast made and consumed as people rose from a long night's sleep. At midday, apart from Clare, who wanted to stay and rest, we took the train to Malaga for few hours sight seeing. On the way there we booked a table at Restaurant La Esquinita at the bottom of the hill, for my birthday lunch tomorrow.

In Malaga we started with the Mercado Atarazanas, and lunch at a street cafe nearby, then a walk through back streets to the Plaza de la Constitucion, and thence to the Palmeria de las Sorpresas. Having walked the entire length, we retraced our steps back to the Alameda station and returned to Los Boliches. Owain and I spent time together here back in 2018, Kath Anto and Rhiannon have spent a few nights here on their way to another destination, so don't know the city centre well, and were trying to remember where they stayed as we wandered through back streets. It was lovely to be out and about with my offspring sharing a little of the untiring pleasure this city gives me.

Clare prepared for us a splendid fish supper, and after eating together, we sat around outdoors on the patio, enjoying  warm and comforting night air, drinking wine and telling stories until late. A time to treasure..

Easter finale

Not sure how much I slept, but I got up at seven fifteen while everyone else slumbered, and was on my way to Calahonda at a quarter to nine. There were seventeen of us for the Eucharist there, the same Easter Day number as last year, all locals and regulars, no visitors. One of the regulars was saying her farewells after nine years living in Spain, compelled by domestic circumstances to return to the UK. I imagine this  kind of story has contributed to the decline of chaplaincy congregations in recent years. 

In Los Boliches there were forty two of us, two more than last year, with at least three missing due to illness. Clare and Owain came, adding to the numbers, so in effect this congregation was also the same as last year. It seems that some didn't attend due to road closures in the area for the Cristo resuccitado procession after Mass at the parish church. Another grass roots religious event I have missed out on this time around. In fact, I witnessed none of them, due to my body and perhaps my state of mind, and the ease of being able to watch things on telly, although it's a pale substitute. If I wanted to witness events live again, I think I would need to be here and not be on locum duty. 

At the end of the Eucharist, I was unable to escape having 'Happy Birthday', before saying the inevitable goodbyes. The congregation dispersed quickly afterwards since nobody was available today to offer refreshments afterwards. Some people said kindly 'I hope we'll see you here again'. I think it's unlikely I will have reason to return for another spell of duty. I may have overreached myself doing eleven weeks this time, and over the last few weeks tiredness has built up, but then, I haven't taken a break do do anything different in my spare time, not least because ankle trouble has been a disincentive. The long period of solitude has been challenging, on times difficult. I've worked well, and think I have given of my best, although I'm less confident of this, as I've had very feedback. I have sought to teach as I was taught, but has anyone learned anything, from me or despite me that has made a difference to their lives? That's a question for which I have no answer.

Clare and I met briefly afterwards with the rest of the family and then we headed back to the house, via a shopping trip to Aldi's, to get on with preparing lunch. Not that I did much. The two services left me quite drained and not fit to do much. We had a splendid lunch with pan fried tuna cooked by Kath, plus veggies and the usual complement of wine. On their expedition to shops open in Los Boliches barrio Rhiannon bought a table tennis set. When lunch was over, everyone except me went around the corner of the street to play table tennis on the outdoor table provided there. I just fell asleep. The next thing I knew was when they all went to the pool the other side of the garden fence from the house, to enjoy the afternoon sun and have a swim. I'm happy to miss out on this as well, and recuperate expended energy instead.

We walked down to the sea front for a drink as the sun was going down. Clare and I didn't stay long. The others went looking interesting places to eat and drink in Los Boliches. My stomach threatened trouble, probably due to inadvertently eating small amounts of milk products during the day, and I was feeling nauseous. A dose of Swedish Bitters dealt with the problem quickly, and I was able to eat a light supper without problems. I did a first draft of my locum duty report before turning in for the night.

Arrivals

After breakfast, I went to Los Boliches station to meet Kath, Anto and Rhiannon from the train at twenty to ten. Their flight into Malaga left Birmingham about half past five, which meant getting up at three in the morning, although Rhiannon had been out clubbing beforehand and didn't go to bed at all. Amazing what you can get away with when you're nineteen! We walked back up to Casa de la Esperanza, where Clare had the front door open, greeting us by playing the piano!

After settling in, we went down to the sea and had lunch at Dominique's a sea front restaurant well spoken of, which certainly lived up to its reputation. Then a walk down the Paseo Maritime and back along the avenida de Los Boliches, while Kath and Anto revived their memories of their last stay with us here nine years ago. We waited for Owain's train to arrive over coffee and cake in the Granier pasteleria near the market, and then had a joyous reunion on the platform before waking up the hill back to the house.

I think our children were the first to use the urbanizacion swimming pool since its refurbishment and leak repair was concluded earlier in the week. The Clare and I cooked a pasta meal for supper and much wine and conversation followed our first family meal since Christmas. What a lovely day. Everyone will sleep well tonight.

Apart from Ibiza in 2020, for the first time in years, no Easter Vigil for me this evening. St Andrew's doesn't do one, and if the local Parish Church does, it's not well publicised. I wouldn't want to make the effort to leave the family behind. I'm happy to settle for the fact that it's happening elsewhere.

Passion watched

A bright and warm day from the start. It will be hot for those carrying tronas of the passion today, all over Andalucia, if our weather is anything to go by. I had several more things to prepare for this afternoon's liturgy after breakfast. Then went out to watch the House Martins insect hunting in the meadow opposite the house. They fly so fast and close to the ground for much of the time that they're difficult to take photos of without a great deal of luck., so I wasn't all that successful. The meadow, however is flourishing now with a variety of native flowers and grasses and wood sorrell flowers aren't dominant now, or suppressed.

I went down to St Andrews an hour and a half early to make sure everything was in order, found the cross for the act of veneration, but couldn't find the service sheets, but that we because they'd been moved to a more accessible place. I thought all my material was prepared, but then realised that I'd forgotten to print the amended passion Gospel text, so I had to hurry back to the house, make a print out and get back down to church within the hour. I made it with twenty minutes to spare thankfully. There were just fourteen of us for the liturgy. When I got back from church I found Clare had cooked a stir fry with prawns to eat after the service, around about tea time.

When I did Good Friday in Malaga five years ago there were half that number, as people simply couldn't get to church for the crowds. Nine years ago at St Andrew's we did a full Three Hours and number varied between 18 and 12, so averagely the same, no worse. I guess travel is difficult for those wanting to come to St Andrew's if they use public transport, given the crowds travelling into the city to watch the processions.

We're never in control of numbers. Many more people know when services are and where the church is, but the rest of life's activities can get in the way of an extra commitment to worship, whether on a weekday or a weekend. Something remarkable goes on in Spain during Semana Santa, involving so many people in devotional and social activities. It nurtures social cohesion and solidarity long before it feeds the economy. Yet even here, recruiting hombres de trono and cofradia members is getting harder, and if I have understood this aright, cofradias are linking up to perform traditional duties they have in common. Just like declining parishes being joined.

I found out that unlike traditional Spanish supermarkets the Aldi store is open today, despite it being a bank holiday, so I walked over the hill, to get a few more bottles of wine, to save having to do this tomorrow when the family arrive. If there's anything else forgotten and remembered overnight, I can get it when I go down to the station to meet Kath, Anto and Rhiannon in the morning.

I cooked scrambled eggs for Clare's supper, and we ate listening to 'The Archers' on catch-up. The rest of the evening was spent watching the evening processions, with their tronos depicting step by step each moment after the death of Jesus to his burial. The memory of standing in the silent crowd watching this stage of proceedings back in 2018 is still very vivid. Sadly, I don't have the energy or willingness to trust my ankle to make the journey and stand in the crowd as I did back then. I'm so glad I did it.

As for my ankle, I've booked a osteo-myology appointment with Kay for a week Monday. Her hands on diagnostic will help me decide what if anything more can be done to improve stability.

Maundy Thursday events at a distance

This morning I posted my Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp just before 'Thought for the Day' as usual. Later on, I watched the live broadcast on telly of the arrival of the Spanish legion in Malaga port. It happens every Maundy Thursday morning, so the legion can perform its traditional escort duty for the trona de la Buen Muerte in tonight's procession. 

The Armada troop transport ship didn't dock in Muelle Uno by the Palmeria de las Sorpresas this year, as when I was here in 2018. It was out on one of the quays used by cruise liners. This meant a couple of kilometres march for the regiment from there to the far end of Muelle Uno, where coaches waited to take them the last stretch to their destination. This way, there aren't the same traffic management problems as a marching column of soldiers would cause.

It was amazing to see the soldiers marching at double time 160-180 paces a minute, with the front rank platoon making 360 degree turns every dozen steps and juggling with rifles over their heads. Much of the footage was shot by a helicopter camera. giving a vivid impression of just how fast the column of soldiers covered ground.

After seeing this we made another grocery shopping trip in an effort to get everything ready before the shops close for Good Friday. Clare cooked some large pieces of merluza in a creamy gingery salsa for lunch, a nice contrast to the pequinitas we had yesterday.

At five thirty I went down to St Andrew's to take part in the Lord's Supper Eucharist, led by Fr William, the chaplaincy's home grown NSM Curate. He celebrated, preached and did the foot washing. I was in the congregation along with ten others, and was invited to have a foot washed. The altar was stripped at the end, but there was no Watch of the Passion, and strangely no reference to Christ's Gethsemane vigil.

Afterwards, I went down to Los Boliches Parish Church, which was full to the doors. The parish priest was in the midst of the sermon. I didn't stay long, but it was good to see a well attended Maundy Thursday service. I went back to watching the live broadcast events from Malaga. I don't have the extra energy to go and watch in the streets, due to my unstable ankle, as I did nine years ago. Opportunities to watch events on telly are richer now than in times past thanks to improved broadcast and production technologies. It's not nearly as emotionally powerful, but more informative from what I can make out from the commentary.

We ony just realised Kath, Anto and Rhiannon are coming on Saturday morning, not tomorrow. We'd both mis-read the original booking message Kath sent us. When I checked with Owain what time his flight would arrive on Saturday, he looked at his phone booking app and discovered he booked his flights the wrong way around, return flight on Saturday, outward flight on Wednesday. Fortunately he hasn't yet checked in, and flights can be changed up to 24 hours before departure, so that's given him an urgent task to do this evening. And he's gigging tonight. Poor guy!

A favourite fish treat

Today, a return to bright clear sky and pleasant warmth. I walked to St Andrew's to celebrate Eucharist and preach about the last of the bible studies on Psalms of lament. I nearly forgot to record it for distribution, and had to restart the sermon after reading a few lines to be sure of having the whole of it. There were nine of us again. 

Clare joined us later for coffee and chat after doing some planned shopping to cater for the family arriving Friday. Recently she's been knitting baby blanket squares lately for a Canton parish effort, but has run out of wool since arriving. We googled and found a mereceria we've walked past many times, without noticing, just opposite the Municipal Market, and it was open this morning.

For lunch I bought and cooked merluzas pequinitas (baby hake). I steam them, to make the most of their delicate flavour, something I learned many years ago on locum duty, maybe in Nerja, maybe here. 

It must be something to do with getting old, that we spend so much more time planning ahead. Ten weeks here already, one more to go. Quite apart from another big catering expedition to Aldi's this afternoon, for the coming family weekend, our return journey and planning the final handover and train to the airport, eight days from now needed to be arranged. For the first time since last December I tracked down our separate booking confirmation details for the flight to Bristol, checked us both in and acquired the boarding passes. Fiddly, but no glitches thankfully.

With Ruth's email of Easter week Morning prayer texts, I was in a position to record the office to go with the biblical Reflection already recorded. I'll be able to finish the job tomorrow and that will be the last of my preparatory tasks until I return to Cardiff.

Time relaxing in front of the telly after supper with a mix of Semana Santa and old car restoration programmes. Nothing too stimulation after the demands of EasyJet's confusing booking website, with its plethora of choices you don't need if all you need to do is fly!

Jesus el Rico

A rare cool and cloudy day in springtime Costa del Sol. After breakfast Clare did some baking, while I worked on an Easter Week biblical reflection and recorded it. I cooked a couple of big panga fillets for lunch, with basmati rice and an experimental stew of aubergines and carrots with onion. Surprisingly, it turned out better than I thought. Then while Clare had a siesta, I set to work on an Easter Sunday sermon, my last preparatory task of my final week here. Good to get this done before the children arrive, on Friday and Saturday.

In the afternoon we walked down the Paseo Maritime, and did some grocery shopping at the Mercadona on the way back up the hill, stocking up ready for a family weekend. Di rang and sang Happy Birthday to me a week early. Either she heard it incorrectly from someone else, or everyone else has got it wrong. I may find out tomorrow at the coffee morning!

After supper, I watched telly for a while, then tuned in to the Malaga Semana Santa YoouTube live feed. It led to a couple of surprising discoveries about a cofradia based in the Calle Victoria. Its trono of Jesus carrying his cross is unusual in having an arm which moves in a way that makes the sign of the cross. The whole thing weighs 3,600kg, just under three tons, and is carried by 220 men. It's the cofradia of 'Jesus el Rico y Maria Santisima del Amor' He who alone is rich enough to pay the price of the sins of humanity in the devotional language of the church. 

Apparently it's a municipal tradition here in Holy Week for a prisoner to be released, as Barabbas was released instead of Jesus. The decision is made a few days beforehand. This year the man to be released is nearing the end of a three year sentence for drug trafficking, and on early release with a leg tag, having learned a trade while incarcerated, so a safer bet than a leal life Barabbas. A nice touch anyway, and occasion when imitating an element of biblical story literally makes a difference to someone's life.

Candle shopping in Málaga

We all got up early enough to have breakfast and make sure there was no rushing around to be done before Ann and I left for the airport train. We caught the ten twenty and it was packed all the way, and made extra congested with the number of electric scooters as well as baby buggies and aircraft bound suitcases. We were in the terminal and saying farewell by five past eleven, giving her more than enough time to make her way through a distant departure gate. 

I continued my journey to Málaga Alameda on the next train and walked up Calle Dos Aceras skirting the old town walls to the Liturgical supply tienda 'Nazaret', run I believe by a community of Sisters. I was here to buy a couple of baptismal candles, and two Paschal candles, one for St Andrew's and the other for the chapel in Alhaurin, as it's become a tradition there for Anglicans to supply one. 

The conversation was entirely in Spanish, and it wasn't difficult to make myself understood. I looked at various sizes, and found a really tall one for Alhaurin was too heavy to handle, especially as I had carry two back. I settled for ones that were sized 70 and 60cm tall. Girth is a problem when nobody seems to have made a note of the exact dimensions of the candle holders involved. The Sister who dealt with me was surprised to find I'd come on foot by public transport and kindly improvised handles from masking tape to enable me to carry one in each hand. 

The cost was nearly a hundred and forty euros. I guess there's been a price hike in the cost of candles too, as they're mostly made of paraffin wax, an oil based commodity. Pure beeswax large candle prices would in any case be astronomical these days. It's good there are church people who will recycle the wax from old candles into product for sale a church fairs.

I suppose the combined weight of the candles was no more than a couple of bags of groceries, but their length meant the arms had to be slightly flexed to carry them without touching the ground. An exercise in concentration on the walk back to Alameda. Fortunately the streets were not as crowded as the train turned out to be in both direction, so the job was done without mishap and the candles deposited in the church office, before going up the hill to Casa del la Esperanza, where Clare had lunch ready, perfectly timed, to welcome me back.

Concerned to ensure Ann got off in time I forgot to take extra money to pay for the candles. Fortunately my Post Office money card had enough to cover the first hundred euros, and I covered the remainder en effectivo. Very pleased to have negotiated this entirely in Spanish without becoming tongue tied when I realised my omission.

After lunch I needed a rest, then I worked on homilies for Wednesday and Good Friday for a couple of hours while Clare went out for a walk. I made supper, and  spent the evening watching live processions on the Málaga TV YouTube channel. In one video vignette, the Cofradia de Los Estudiantes was to be seen and heard singing 'Gaudeamus Igitur' a student drinking song known in international academia, said to date from the thirteenth century, celebrating the joys of life and the inevitability of death. I remember hearing it sung on the street here by this cofradia in Semana Santa 2018. 

Co-incidentally the place where this was being broadcasted from was in the processional recorrido nicknamed 'La Tribunal de los Pobres'. I passed by there this morning, as it's at the junction between the road running up the bank of the rio Guadalmina and Calle dos Aceras, where the church shop is located. Parts of Málaga's old town have become as familiar to me as my native Cardiff.

I've noticed that when some of the processions visit the Cathedral the exit of the trona de la Virgen after the prayers of dedication is preceded by a mediaeval anthem in her honour, sung by on of the choirs of the region. Just as with the many bands used in the processions, it's a busy time for musicians, whether they play for love or for money.

It's several days late appearing on Llandaff diocesan website, but today I've been able to download the new quarterly intercessions list. Unfortunately it's still full of errors, not at all a good advertisement for the diocesan communications team. There's simply no information available about who the editor is, to make contact and offer them updates and corrections.

Semana Santa begins

Thankfully it didn't matter that I forgot to set an alarm as I woke up at seven thirty, ate breakfast and was out of the house on my way to Calahonda for the first service of the morning by five to nine. There were eighteen of us for the Palm Sunday Eucharist. We made a procession around the inside of the church and three of us read the unedited long St Matthew Passion gospel text neatly printed in six pages of a special booklet. I found it hard work reading such small print. A sign of ageing eyes and brain.

The service was twenty minutes longer than usual which put pressure on me to drive back to Los Boliches for eleven thirty. I reached there with ten instead of twenty minutes to spare and only then realised I'd left behind my mini homily. In an effort to start on time, I forgot the Palm Gospel entirely, and we went straight into the procession, out of the church back door, along the pavement and back in through the main entrance. 

When we came to to Passion Gospel reading, Peter Hammond took the narrating voice, I did the Jesus parts as is traditional, and the third voice for all other parts was read with verve by St Andrew's last full-time Chaplain David Sutch, who just happened to be in the congregation. He retired in November 2013. I succeeded him as locum pastor. Somehow it all held together. There were thirty-six of us, and a presentation was made of Easter gifts to the two Finnish children who have been in the congregation this year. I think the family is moving back home some time this week. They have brought much delight to the church and will be missed.

I was tired out by the end of two Palm Sunday liturgies in a row. It's tough going and with the hay fever it makes me feel doubly my age. It seems the pollen count is low, but the pollution monitoring service in my phone weather app says that the mould spore concentration is high. If it reaches you it hits you hard with constant runny nose, as the body tries to expel the nasties by flushing them out of the sinuses. This afternoon, Ann has been hit hard by the same affliction, and it's distressing for her as she has a return flight to catch tomorrow lunchtime.

After church we went for lunch at the Restaurant Bahia in plaza San Rafael just above Playa Gaviota. We had an excellent meal. I ordered half a pollo asado which looked much bigger on the plate than I expected it to be, so I wondered if I'd get through it. Fortunately it had a bed of four veggies beneath it making it look bigger than it was, but I would have settled happily for a smaller portion. Just as well I had a small breakfast.

We drove back up to the house, then Clare and I went for a walk up Calle la Loma before supper. I began watching live broadcasts of Málaga's Semana Santa processions on telly and on my laptop with earphones when the others complained I was being anti-social. Improved Spanish comprehension is making it possible to understand and appreciate much more than in previous years. While there's nothing to equal being there in the crowd in the flesh, the many faceted perspectives of live edited video feeds on several channels not only from Málaga but Seville, Cordoba, Granada, Almeria, gives an impression of the wide spread of this remarkable cultural as much as spiritual tradition. It gives such a strong witness to tradition, community and co-operation with a higher understanding of aims and values, in contrast to the egotistical individualism common in our times. I may not be able to visit Málaga in the week ahead to savour the live experience from the crowd, but am most grateful for what's on offer in the mass media. It's not often I say that!

Choice removal enforced in effect

I slept well, and am no worse for wear. The pollen count isn't high by any count, so something specific and localised is causing a strong allergic reaction. At the end of the morning we drove to La Cala de Mijas, for Peter and Linda's 30th anniversary party of settling on the Costa del Sol, and we gave Di a lift there. There were about a dozen guests all told. Clare and Ann swam in their pool, with Peter's great grandchildren. I wonder what they thought of that!

Mid afternoon we returned and dropped off Clare at Casa de la Esperanza for a rest, while I took Ann for a drive up to Mijas Pueblo. We parked on a lower level of a ten story car park set into the hillside. There was no public information on display about parking charges in any language, though I didn't think it would be much. At the entrance gate our number plate was scanned and a ticket issued with the number printed on it. Just like the car park system in Sabanillas encountered during my summer locum in Estepona.

We walked up the hill into the village, visited the Virgen de la Peña shrine, went up to the bull ring and into the church square, marvelled at the views, and then, tired by the effort, headed downhill back to the car. When we reached the payment machine I discovered it was con tarjeta only, and was told by the car park attendant that there was a coin plus card machine on the tenth storey. 

I was determined to get rid of the small change acquired in yesterday's display of passive aggression at the restaurant on the Palmeria  de Sorpresas in Malaga, so I decided to go up to the tenth floor. The lift was so slow or else stuck in transit so I had to climb the stairs to reach the machine and get rid of a euro's worth of change. It took me ages, as I wasted time waiting for the non existent lift, and Ann phoned me from the car to check on me, worried my ankle had given me trouble. 

Having paid, the barrier recognises the car's approach, the ticket is no longer needed. It's a smart system, but hardly user friendly when there is no explanation or advice available in an almost deserted large building. Smart but impersonal and dystopian. People serve the machine that takes away not just your money, but your choices, putting you at a disadvantage, punishing if you wish to use old fashioned cash. What if I'd not been able to climb those stairs to pay cash?

Between us we cooked supper, and afterwards I uploaded photos to share with Ann. I had an email from the church warden in Costa del Sol West, announcing the licensing of their new chaplain at last, telling about his licensing service in Sotogrande, and thanking me along with other locums, for the support given during the past two years of vacancy. That was a small kindness I've not experienced before. A human note on which to end this day