Tuesday 7 November 2023

Portillo in Granada

I woke up this morning with a stiff neck, having slept deeply but in an awkward position. It's impossible to say how much of the muscle pain was due to physical stress, and how much due to reaction from the covid jab. After breakfast I tried to edit the biblical reflection I started yesterday, but found it hard to concentrate with the aches and pains. Clare gave me a head massage which made my neck less stiff, but the headache continued for the rest of the day. Definitely a reaction to the jab then.

Clare had a homeopathic consultation mid-morning, so I drove her there. I was going to walk in the park nearby but the ground was badly waterlogged. Instead, I walked to the big Sainsbury's supermarket ten minutes away down the road, trying to remember the regular content of our weekly grocery shopping list, and was able to recall about half of what we needed. Opposite Saintsburys is Thornhill Church, which was started by a group of evangelical Christians in 1980 moving into newly built houses in the rapidly developing suburb of the same name. They worshipped in the local primary school to start with, then raised funds for their own building in 1997. It now has a congregation of a hundred and fifty. I remember visiting there for a meeting when I was Vicar of St John's, and haven't come this way since then. There's now a community cafe and the building is open for different social and pastoral activities every day. It's an impressive suburban missionary initiative.

After a curry Clare cooked for, lunch I went into town to collect my jacket which Slater's workshop cannot repair, and then went to meet the Iraqui refugee who's been attending worship at St German's in recent months. She brought her daughter to meet me, a lively 21 year old who insisted on buying me a coffee. She's recently been granted settled status, and is thinking about how she can promote her mother's cause to stay. Their story is quite disturbing, not least the immigration officers' disbelief in the truth of her statements, backed by original documents. If she were sent back to Iraq she would be imprisoned for leaving without her ex-husband's permission, and at risk of revenge killing. There is an illusion in government back offices that Iraq is now secure and stable. If so, how come the US Secretary of State visiting Baghdad was portrayed wearing a kevlar stab vest?

It was dark by the time I took the bus home. I watched a programme about Andalusia by Michael Portillo on Channel Five. Well actually, it was all about Granada and how his late father Luis Gabriel Portillo was a poet and republican intellectual. He met the poet Frederico Garcia Lorca just before the Civil War broke out, and was with him not long before Lorca was murdered.  Luis had gone to Madrid and survived until he was able to flee to France and then England after the republican defeat. Portillo Junior reflected on the last long conversation he had with his father in the gardens of the Alhambra Palace just before he died in 1993. The last travelogue he made traced his father's journey of escape from Spain, with Michael taking the same route to freedom. His travelogues are always picturesque and entertaining, but don't dig into the historical backdrop or the ideas espoused by his father and Lorca. Could do better, in my opinion.

Before bed I watched the news.The violence in Gaza is relentlessly cruel, and coming in for criticism from the international community of being disproportionate amounting to punishment of innocent civilians, but the Israelis show no sign of being deterred. There seems to be no idea of how this will end and what will happen when shooting and bombing stops. The same seems to be true for Russia whose battlefield losses amount to 307,000 soldiers in Ukraine. It's painful to think about. Such a waste of precious lives. truly a vile blasphemy against humanity made in God's image.

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