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!
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