Celebrating Max at eighty

A cold cloudy start to the day, though the ski cleared later on. Astonishing reports of 30C temperatures on the Costa del Sol. Andalusia is stricken with drought, disastrous for agriculture, but especially so for the production of olive oil.

After breakfast I worked on my Sunday sermon, and archived a few previous issue of Sway. Considering we have fast broadband, I was surprised at how slow Sway was to load and function, using Chrome browser rather than the desktop applet I tried before and decided not to trust. I don't know what causes this unless it's simply a question of heavy morning internet traffic.

Clare has been trying for a while to gain access to her on-line French shareholder account, as the system looking after them got updated. Her mobile number wasn't on the site as this had never been required in the past. The new security system is very complex and difficult to negotiate. It presents itself in English but uses protocols unlike ours in the UK. Very strong anti-hacking measures in place, but punishing for new users. This morning she got into the system and made the necessary change, but needed me to be alongside her to check her navigation of the website. At fourth attempt over several weeks she succeeded.

I cooked lunch and afterwards took the UK Christmas cards to the Post Office. I was astonished to have to pay £2.20 each for the four European cards I was sending in addition. All our letters and parcels together cost £200 to send. On the way back I called in to the butcher and ordered a small turkey or turkey crown - depending on what's available, as our family celebrations this year will only be a couple of days, as Kath and Anto fly to Australia for a month's adventure they've been looking forward to for many years.

A walk in the park until teatime, then after we'd eaten, I prepared this year's digital Christmas card to go out by email with our newsletter. Sending out forty odd emails in small batches is a fiddly job, plus another couple of dozen via WhatsApp, (which is somewhat easier), I did while watching an interview with Max Boyce, on the occasion of his 80th birthday. It had video of him singing his all time favourites but most of it was conversation with Max in hilarious story telling mood, and recollections of his life in Glyn Neath, where he still lives. A treasure of a programme.