Restaurant Inspection

Another day of clouds and sunshine with a return of cooling wind from the west, signifying a turn in the weather, possibly rain tomorrow? I got up and made breakfast, after a fair night's sleep: not really as much as I needed, yet again.  Later in the morning, I went out on my own for some exercise, walking up to top of the hill above the big building where the view is so spectacular up and down the coast. On the way, I saw and heard a parrot calling from one of the taller roadside trees, looking for a mate? An invasive specials, they are to be found all along the coastal strip, especially in holiday resorts. I wonder if this is true inland and higher up also? While I was out, Clare cooked for Ann and I, chicken pieces to accompany a salad for lunch. Delicious!

John called in at tea time on his way back from the airport, to hand over the Chaplain's mobile and mail box key. Then we drove down to Playa Vilches, parked the car and walked east on the Senda Litoral, after the  girls had checked out the beach restaurant menu. The Mirador de Guilches restaurant where Kath and I had lunch, was the next eaterie whose menu they inspected, and then we walked to the recently opened Mesonera de Nerja to investigate their new menu, before turning around, and returning for a drink at the Playa Vilches restaurant before driving back up to the house. 

In Aldi's yesterday Clare bought trout fillets enough for the three of us, and cooked them for supper with roasted courgettes, while I did the rice and steamed carrots. Another delicious protein rich meal, which I was pleased to eat, as my exercise routine, fifty per cent of which is climbing steep hills, is making extra demands on my body. It's certainly doing me good. My over stretched quad thigh muscles have tightened to an extent I never imaged they would again after previous injuries, and this has benefitted my walking gait and back. It's just important I keep it up day after day.

I needed to walk some more after supper, I took the rubbish to the recycling zone at the bottom of Tamango Hill, and watched the clouds in the sky change colour as the sun was setting on the slow tired plod back uphill. I found Clare being industrious in the kitchen again, figuring out how to make vegan pancake batter accurately without the benefit of a measuring jug. I don't think Ann and I were all that when it came to estimating the right weight and volume, We'll see how it turned out the morning. After all, it's Saturday again tomorrow! But before, that a wholesome longer sleep, hopefully.

Settling in

I woke up tired today, having not slept well again. Ann had to switch bedrooms as one of the local dogs started barking in the small hours and others joined in. Fortunately noise from the valley is absorbed by the house on the road side of the terrace, which is far noisier by day when there's lorry traffic to the but new apartment complex building site which seems totter on the crest of the hill above us.

The day started in sunshine but clouded over slowly. I made breakfast, and we ate on the terrace. Clare and Ann went for a dip in the garden pool. I had a lovely email exchange with Basma, still waiting for official confirmation of her UK residency, thinking about future plans, and volunteering at St German's, where Fr. Jarel is stimulating fresh initiatives already. Great to hear. 

I cooked lunch, and took Clare for a walk to the top of the urbanizacion, to see the view from on high for the first time, then we drove to Maro for a sight seeing ride to introduce Ann to the locality. We did some food shopping at Carrefour and Aldi on the return leg. It's not easy to get everything you need in one place even though each caters for a wide range of diets, mainly European of course, they're not all identical.

Later on, I walked with the rubbish bags to the bin at the bottom of the hill, and walked along the cliff top footpath to the Mesonera de Nerja restaurant. For the first week of my stay it was closed. Then Kath saw  someone cleaning the terrace after the winter recess. This past few days, internal lights have been on, and today the closed notice has been replaced by an interesting looking spring menu. All three of the nearest eateries are not open for business.

Clare and Ann took over organising a salad for supper, then we passed the evening chatting and drinking until bed time.

Company again

Another cool and cloudy day. I drove into town after breakfast and parked at the large area of open ground below the west side Mercadona, where you can park all day for a euro. As I intend to leave the car as near to the bus station as possible when I take an early bus to the airport for my three day home stay, I asked the parking, if it was permissible, and he said I could without a problem by purchasing three days worth of tickets. It's a busy area and seems safe enough, I need to check this out with locals before making a final decision. The alternative would be a very expensive taxi all the way to the airport.

I visited the church shop to collect and informative magazine from Di with lists of useful local contact numbers in it, and called into a Farmacia to buy a First Aid kit for the house. I looked up the correct term on Google translate, memorised it while walking there, and successfully made myself understood. Good for the morale! It's the third locum duty in a row where the chaplain's residence has had no first aid kit, and I've had to ensure one is acquired.

When I returned, I completed a Morning Prayer video slide show for the week after next, and finished Sunday's sermon, to give me all the time I need to spend with Clare and Ann while they're here. I cooked some potatoes, onions and a few other veg by steaming, finishing them off in a frying pan with olive oil. My version of patatas de los pobres, which I was pleased with. With time to spare before leaving for the airport to collect Clare and Ann from their flights, I got everything ready to cook for supper on our return. It was useful having both flight numbers, as I could open separate web pages to monitor each of them. The departure of Ann's Ryanair flight from Stanstead was delayed forty minutes, but made up some of the time. Clare's Vueling fight from Cardiff was on time at both ends and arrived half an hour earlier. 

I  adjusted my airport arrival time to coincide with Ann's likely passage to the arrivals hall, where Clare was waiting for her at a cafe. I parked in the arrivals parking area right outside the airport Metro station, a familiar location. Within a few minutes of being reunited with Clare, Ann came through and joined us which meant we were out of the airport again in under twenty minutes, hassle free, Contactless payment for the parking stay is now the norm, and the ticket doesn't seem to be needed at the barrier. Whether it's number plate scanning on entry or timed departure window for any paid up car, I don't know, but it did make for a slick and easy exit. Traffic wasn't too heavy and we arrived at the house by half past seven.

After a cup of tea, Clare went for a dip in the pool, then I cooked supper - marinaded tuna, rice, carrots and judia plana. The girls were hungry after their long hours of waiting and travelling, and pleased with my effort. We spent time catching up, and then I went out for a night walk down and up the hill, to relax before turning in for the night, later than usual.

Church key handover

I woke up to another mild day of cloud and sunshine after a night of disturbed sleep, which felt like I was awake for much longer than I actually was. I took the rubbish down to the bins at the bottom of the hill after breakfast and then caught the bus into town just before eleven. I spent an hour chatting to the church shop workers. There was even a moment when I was able to help interpret what a Spanish lady was asking about, as I picked up on a word unfamiliar to them. It's amazing to see the variety of visitors who pop in to browse, and go away with a small bargain. 

There were still a few more groceries to shop for to ensure that I have everything required to welcome Clare and Ann tomorrow. I called into the Carrefour near the older of the two rio Chillar bridges, as it was on my return walking route. I had a message to say that one of the weddings booked for next month had to be cancelled. The couple were unable to change the civil ceremony booking to happen before the blessing ceremony here. Sadly, there's nothing that can be done about that. The arranger for the other wedding I am scheduled to do sent the finalised print ready version of the service booklet, and all is now in order for the last week in May.

Clare called to tell me that my three sets of keys for the three Canton churches were required for Fr Sion Brynach, soon to be licensed to the Ministry Area clergy team, so explanations and hast arrangements needed to be made so that they could be retrieved before she leaves tomorrow. Since Fr Mark was off work for months awaiting a hernia operation, when I did a lot of locum cover for him, I've had my own sets of keys, acquired when other team members left and were not replaced. It's the end of an era, and I can't say I'm sorry about relinquishing the responsibility of being a keyholder. It's been about ten years altogether. There was a time when I had my own key to St German's as well, but I insisted on handing that back at the end of a previous locum duty spell there. It's time for a change. I've been saying that for months now, though still not knowing what will happen next, or should I say discern what I'm meant to do with my freedom.

It was gone four by the time I started making a meal for myself using a small portion of thawed frozen chicken pieces, marinaded in lemon juice and cooked with an assortment of vegetables. It worked a treat, even if preparing and cooking took much longer than usual. Tonight is full moon, but I missed out on moonrise over the sea, as cloud covers the southern horizon, and eventually most of the sky.

After a walk up the hill to observe the light changing over the sea in shades of silver and grey with the setting sun, I started work on next Sunday's sermon, and then headed for bed, hoping for a better night's sleep tonight. Just before lights out, I noticed the full moon shining a little hazily through a break in the cloud, at last.

Familiar accents

A mild changeable day of clouds and sunshine. After breakfast I did a load of washing then I spent the morning recording and editing audio - somewhat challenging as I was interrupted a few times by noise in a usually quiet house, so had to stitch several pieces of audio together to complete the job. In the afternoon I drove to Aldi's to stock up with food, as Clare and Ann arrive tomorrow. 

In front of me at the check-out, a group of women of a certain age stocking up with great excitement, apparently unfamiliar with the currency. All had strong South Wales accents. They were still outside with their purchases when I left, talking about getting a taxi back to where they're staying. I asked them where they were from, and I learned they were from Port Talbot, and for most of them it was the first trip abroad, for a girls' weekend in a 'private villa'. They were curious about me too, and teased me when I reluctantly admitted that I'm a cleric working here.

It was evening by the time I was ready to go out for a walk. On the cliff edge near the Mirador de Guilches I spotted for the second time recently in the same place, a blue rock thrush perched on a piece of iron mesh. This time it stayed long enough for me to get a photo.

Just after I got back to the house, I noticed the rising nearly full so called 'pink' moon visible above the sea horizon at the end of the valley, a lovely sight.

After supper I walked up the hill to see the moon again from on high, with its light shining on the water. Unfortunately the phone's camera didn't do justice to the view. And so to bed.

Coastal questions

The cloud cover is thinning and the sun shining more brightly today. It's comfortably warm, and when I hear the UK news and weather forecast, I realise how much cooler it still is back in Cardiff - ten degrees as opposed to eighteen, but a similar mix of clouds and sunshine as it is here. After breakfast and Morning Prayer, I drove to church early and was fortunate to get a parking place quite close to Iglesia San Miguel. 

With several regulars away we were only eighteen this morning, including a couple enquiring about a wedding blessing in October. John and I met them for a briefing in Bar Atalaya after the service. Among today's absentees was our organist so we sang hymns and the Mass setting unaccompanied. Quite well too. When we came to sing the metrical version of the Gloria in Excelsis, the tune went right out of my head and I had to ask for a reminder from the servers. Laughter ensued!

It was nearly three by the time I got back, and four be the time I'd cooked and eaten lunch. Then I went for a long walk in the Torrox direction. On my way down Tamango Hill, an open topped BMW sports car drove past slowly with a Swiss number plate from Thurgau. The person who wasn't driving was talking pictures on her phone of a couple of properties with noticeboards outside, advertising that they are for sale - one with a Swedish estate agent and the other with a Finnish estate agent. Hoping to invest in a luxury holiday home in a coastal beauty spot, I wonder? Or buying to invest in the holiday rental market? Who knows. It's a long way to have driven by car from the north eastern corner of Switzerland.

This afternoon, I walked past Playa Calaceite further than when I cam in this direction twelve days ago. There's an amazing variety of wild flowers in bloom along the verges of the road and on the side of the footpath. There was little wind but the waves breaking were big and unusually noisy like thunder, perhaps because the sea bed shelves steeply. 

Much work has been done to build sea defences to protect the N340 which is 4-5 metres above sea level. When the wind is up, water spills over on to the footpath leaving big salty puddles which dry out and leave their mark behind in the mud and gravel. I wonder how long it'll be until the rising sea level makes coastal erosion impossible to stop with a seriously expensive impact on the road. Although there are cliffs on the inland side of the road, their geological composition won't spare them from the impact of the sea in the long term.

Clare and I chatted for forty minutes after I returned. Then I uploaded the photos I took with the new Olympus PEN. Despite not having a viewfinder, only a screen, it's nice to handle and takes good photos. Its operating menu is the same as on the OMD-E-M10.1, which means no new learning curve. Though it was a leisurely paced day, earlier bed will be most welcome now.

Transport alternative

Cloud covered the sky from dawn to late afternoon, with just occasional gaps through which the sun cast feeble shadows on the balcony, but there was no wind, a little warmer down by the sea than up on high. John sent this weekend's pew sheet for printing. I worked on tomorrow's sermon a little more, and spent a lot of time exchanging WhatsApp messages with family members, but didn't print it off until the evening. Pasta with a veggie sauce for lunch, then a chat with Clare on WhatsApp. 

Walking into Nerja later, I spotted and took photos of a black cap and a goldfinch, both out proclaiming their availability to suitable mates singing loudly as they patrolled their territories. When I reached the Carretera de Frigiliana, I decided to visit Aldi's to see if I could find a jar of tahini, some black pepper and a chorizo, items I've tended to omit from my shopping list. The supermarket is half a kilometre up the hill from the N340a, further than it seems when you drive there, but the effort was rewarded. On the way back to the main road, I saw a passenger wagon being drawn by a team of four mules carrying a few people, whether family members or tourists it's impossible to say. I'll keep a lookout for this ensemble next month when the Romeral de San Isidro takes place, as it does each May in Nerja.

From the edge of town, I made my way down to the Plaza Monica Line 3 bus stop, but took a less direct route by mistake, through the urbanizacion that covers the west facing headland above the beach, made up of holiday apartment blocks and hotels. I hadn't realised how extensive it was. Anyway, I eventually reached the bus stop and didn't have to wait long for five forty five to arrive for the eight minute journey to the Ladera del Mar parada where the bus turns for the return trip. It would take five times as long by mule carriage!

The evening just slipped away exchanging even more messages with family members reminiscing about generations long gone. So many stories behind the old photos I started digitizing them twenty years ago, but haven't looked at them much over the years. Actually, it's nice to have the leisure to piece together the fragments of stories about people who died long before I was born, people other than our Dad's uncles who died in the Somme over a hundred years ago, and discussed most of all over the years. For a change, I really will get to bed early tonight.

Essential to record

A lot of high cloud when I woke up this morning and a persistent strong wind from the south east. When I walked down Tamango Hill for the nine fifty one bus a distinctly cooling wind was in my face all the way. Waves on the sea were large and white crested, a spectacular sight. When I arrived at the Torrecilla parada, I had an hour to spare, so I popped into the church shop and had a chat with the volunteers on duty. Then I went to the Hotel de Balcon to meet with church warden John, Patricia a wedding planner and a couple whose wedding is due to be blessed in September for an initial briefing and discussion about their choices for the ceremony. 

Yesterday evening I heard from John about another couple with a wedding booked for next month whose civil ceremony is booked for after their church wedding blessing. A major disaster for them. I felt sure that blessing ceremony couldn't go ahead and suggested John contact Archdeacon David to confirm this, which he did. To keep their celebration bookings here, the couple will have to find some way of rearranging the civil ceremony booking urgently. They still have several weeks, and will need to act efficiently to resolve this.  The question is, how did this happen? Was there a miscommunication by the wedding planner or a misunderstanding by couple.

When I thought this through, it seemed likely to me that the couple were thinking about a CofE wedding in Britain, where the officiating minister signs the register with the couple and gives them their certificate at the end of the service, because the minister is a recognised registrar in church and civil law. In Europe, this is the exception not the rule. Couples register their marriage with civil authorities and then go to church to be blessed. It's the same for Anglican marriages. 

Having a civil wedding certificate is a precondition for an Anglican blessing of a civil marriage to take place. No matter how often you ask and explain this, the packaging of wedding arrangements abroad by a third party  professional involves so many different choices that a couple can get distracted from the essential civil wedding priority booking, or worse still think it's no different from getting married in a Parish Church back home. Although I won't be officiating at the service for the couple I met today, I was pleased to learn that their civil wedding is booked for a month before they arrive here. I hope the other couple will succeed in changing their civil marriage date, as that's a wedding I am booked to take.

A caught the bus back at a quarter to one, as there was nothing else I wanted to do in town. I cooked fish with rice and veg for lunch, and for the first time in days felt like drinking wine with it. Left over from Kath's visit, was a bottle of red from Castilla y León made of the Mencía varietal, that's slowly making a come-back in its own right, having been used for flavour, blended with other more productive grapes, as often happens in Spain where traditionally several grapes are either brewed together, or blended after fermentation. 

It's an unusual flavour, strongly tannic at first with its flavours developing over time, best left open for a good while I suspect. It reminded me of a Piedmonte red I tasted a few years ago, using the Nebbiolo grape I think. Good for the digestion I found. After the meal, I lay down on the sofa, slept for more than an hour, and woke up feeling refreshed. I slept quite well last night, but not enough to recover from my active week of sunny walks and chats with Kath. She told me she'd done an Ancestry.com DNA analysis test a couple of weeks ago, curious about her genetic mix. I think she may have discussed with with her cousin Jules, at some time, as he's done this, curious about his father's side of the family, which he knew less about than our side, already well documented by our late cousin Lindsay years before he died. She and I would love to know is we have anything more than love for Spain in common. Genetic origins as well, possibly?

After a light supper, I went for an uphill walk on to the track above the urbanizacion where Kath and I walked earlier this week. Fortunately the wind had abated but the sky was mostly covered with cloud at different levels, making it difficult to figure out exactly where the sun was going to set, as no cloud was tinged with evening pink. Very strange conditions.

When I got back, thinking about Kath's quest, I had a fresh look at our family tree document, wondering about ancestral siblings about whom we've learned little, perhaps because they moved away from their origins or died with nobody recalling when. What must it be like to see the whole picture of generations past? 

With that in mind, time to call it a day.

Off-line morning

When I woke up at daybreak, the sun didn't pour into the bedroom as it has done most day since I arrived. There was high cloud and haze over the sea, and no wind moving the cloud on or breaking it up. The air was cool but noticeable more humid down by the sea went I went out later. I posted today's WhatsApp link to Morning Prayer on YouTube, and after breakfast set about recording what I'd already prepared for next Thursday. The router was working fine, but there was no incoming internet signal. It made my laptop a bit slower to boot up than usual, and I had to read the texts I wanted to record from the Google Docs account on my phone. I was able to do this, thanks to the mobile data SIM bought yesterday. How providential!

By the time I had recorded and edited the texts, the router was attached to the internet again, so I was able to continue making the slide show video and upload it to YouTube, effectively all in one sitting. I would have been stuck for making the slide show, as the app I use as the Photos Legacy app I use depends on my Windows Cloud account. I'd like to be able to do the job when I'm offline, but finding capable software that works off-line is getting increasingly difficult these days, now we're dominated by the sophistication of Cloud computing. It used to be the reverse issue. And that's without the intrusion of AI aids to everything, messing with your thinking, making suggestions you can do without.

Older versions of Windows had a Movie Maker program that could make an MP4 slide show video and upload the finished product to YouTube at leisure, but finding it to use, and getting it to run on Windows 10 is hardly worth bothering with. At home I have an old laptop for running such software - for my obsolete but still functioning photo negative scanner - for example. Maybe I can find a Movie Maker installation file copy in my archive, and then I'll have an off-line alternative for those days when that's the only way to get something necessary done.

I cooked some pieces of chicken with chorizo and onions for lunch, and steamed a potato and a handful of judia plana using a shallow metal steamer pan which fits across the top of one of the large cooking pots. It took more than a week to come across it among the array of pots and pans in kitchen cupboards. Just as well I didn't find one to buy when I| went looking for an add-on steamer when I first arrived.

After eating I walked into town along the N340a, taking photos of the some of the colourful blossoming roadside trees. I saw as well as heard several greenfinches calling for each other over my head. Without a long lens I couldn't get close enough to them, but now at least I know what they sound like at this time of year. I wandered around the streets for an hour, visited the Ermita de Nuestra Señora, next to the old market hall, which has been converted into a cultural centre. Then I looked within, there were groups of children seated around tables working quietly. Probably a homework club, given the time of day and the fact that some families life in smallish apartments not easily adaptable to provide a quiet space for study at family tea time.

I walked to the line three bus stop, to get the bus as far as the stop nearest Tamango Hill. By the time I reached the house, I'd completed my daily step quota. Then, photos to upload and just a big salad sandwich for supper. Then a chat with Clare and eventually bed. 

Farewell day for Kath

A hazy start to the day persisting with thin high clouds later but no wind. Again, we breakfasted on the terrace enjoying the mild weather. Kath kindly stripped her bed, we put the linen through the washing machine and hung it out to dry. Once her bags were pached, we walked down to the Mirador de Güilches restaurant across the road from Tamango Hill, and had lunch there at a table overlooking the sea and Playa Vilches below us. Grilled Lubina for Kath, sardinas for me.

We walked slowly back up the hill after we'd eaten, loaded the car and headed for Nerja. I found the route to the large car park on open waste land that sits below the main road, a steep climb back up to street level, but still convenient for the estación de autobuses. On our way there we passed a phone shop and went in to enquire about a Spanish data SIM for my phone. With Kath's help and both of us using Spanish, I bought a month's worth of data on a physical SIM and had it added to my phone. This gives me the security of connectivity I need in and out of the house. It's a relief.

At €10 a month it's a quarter of the cost of EE data roaming for the same period. It's symptomatic of how some businesses are profiteering from brexit changes and sabotaging their own future. Even loyal customers resent being exploited. I haven't changed mobile provider in 23 years, but will be looking into it when I return home.

We arrived at the bus stop at four twenty five, in time for an earlier coach to Málaga and the driver was happy to take Kath, so we parted company, and she had a two hour wait for her very late return flight back to Brum, not getting home until well after midnight. I did some shopping in Mercadona before driving back to the hous and cooking supper. I ended the day with a walk down to the main road and along the path to the not-yet-open-for-the-season Mesonera restaurant overlooking Nerja whose lights 2km away twinkle against the dark sky. And then return, and bed.

Lunch in Frigliana

A little warmer again today, a cloudless sky, no wind, the sea like a millpond. Kath had a swim in the pool after breakfast, and I started thinking about next Sunday's sermon. I dived into my archive to find out what I preached about on Easter 4, Good Shepherd Sunday on previous occasions in the triennial reading cycle. I found that on 2015 it was the first Sunday after arriving here in Nerja for my third locum visit. Summer 2016 I was back here again, for a fourth stay cut short by the imminent arrival of Fr Nigel as their new Chaplain. Instead of returning home, I went north by train to Vinaros for a month with the Costa Azahar chaplaincy, vacant due to the unexpected departure of its chaplain. This makes my fifth tour of duty here in Nerja. Somehow, looking back eight years ago through my blog, I didn't get started on a sermon. 

When Kath was ready we drove to Frigiliana, parked on the village by-pass road and walked from there. It was Kath's first experience of this magnificent Pueblo Blanco which celebrates its long history and its associations with Muslim Jewish and Christian communities over the past millennium. There were plenty of visitors, but it wasn't congested.  We took photos, visited the Parish Church of Saint Anthony of Padua and having walked the length of the old town, had lunch on the terrace of la Bodeguilla - swordfish for Kath and morcilla with slim potato chips for me. The restaurant is run by a collective of local women offering regional dishes cooked to perfection. Clare and I ate here on several occasions when she visited me during previous locum duty stays here. So good that it's survived the misfortunes and upheavals of recent years.

We called into Aldi and Lidl on the way back, to get some bread and drinking water. I was feeling tired, and had a load of washing to put through the machine, so I stayed behind while Kath went down to swim at Playa Vilches. After a doze on the bed, I read my Spanish novel until Kath returned. Then we cooked together - Omelette for her, tuna with tomato onion and pepper with left over pasta for me. As we're both left handed we find it easy to work together at the stove. When discussing this we realised most members of our family are left handed, if not ambidextrous.

Clare called as the sun was setting and we chatted for half an hour. Then I walked uphill to the furthest extent of the urbanizacion under the stars and noticed the lights of a cruise ship on the southern horizon. This was enough to complete my step quota to finish the day, ready for bed.

 

Steep climbing day.

Another gloriously clear sunny day, not too hot. After a better night's sleep and breakfast, Kath went for a swim in the garden pool, then we drove to Maro and had lunch in the village bar/restaurant. Tortilla for Kath, a chicken sandwich for me and a dish of fried aubergines with cana de miel to share. The aubergine was cut like chips for frying and stacked in a vertical lattice to stop them stick together before having the molasses poured over them. Ingenious!

After lunch we walked down to the Playa de la Caleta, a shallow cove with coarse grey sand three hundred metres long backed by cliffs, with a steep descent of about a mile from the village down slopes covered by ugly plastic sheeted greenhouses including three hundred steps and stretches of unmetalled road between them. A tiring walk both ways. The place felt very remote, and was quiet with just a few people swimming or sunbathing. There were lots of different insects and colourful butterflies in the area, despite the plastic sheeting covering so much of it.

We called into the Carrefour supermarket for convenient shopping on the way back. Kath then walked down to Playa Vilches for a swim rather than just a paddle, and I followed her once I'd completed writing something I'd started. Then we cooked supper together - a risotto with courgette and onions, with a couple of fillets of merluza cooked by resting on top of the rice when it had finished cooking. I worked very well, washed down with the rest of a bottle of Verdejo, my favourite Spanish white wine, also used in cooking.

Later I went out again and completed my daily distance, walking up the hill and back again. I was amazed by how quiet fthis area is. No background rumble of traffic and on a clear night stars visible despite the proliferation of street lights. A lovely experience. We've done a lot of steep climbing today bed will be more than welcome after burning up so much energy.

View from above

I benefited from getting to bed a bit earlier last night and was up in time to prepare a leisurely breakfast, and ready to leave for church by a quarter to eleven. I found a parking place just around the corner from San Miguel church, and as the Parish Mass hadn't yet finished, sat outside in the shade of the trees in front of the church, where Kath and I chatted with a few other early arrivals for our service. There were twenty one of altogether, plus a couple with a small child who came in late, stayed for a while and then left.

Among this morning's worshippers was a retired priest and his wife of my era who'd done his final year at St Michael's Llandaff. He'd served in St Asaph diocese, and has known Bishop Mary and Fr Andrew for many years. There were several more Welsh people in the congregation as well, including the organist!

We chatted in Bar Atalaya afterwards, then returned to church house and cooked tuna steaks for lunch with nice Rioja to go with it. Both of us succumbed to a siesta after eating, and then walked up the hill, above and beyond the apartments, houses and huge block of apartments under construction to where the metalled road turned into a track. 

We kept on walking upwards even further and the view of the Mar Alboran, with Nerja to the east and Torrox to the west became even more spectacular. Just as amazing was the variety and colour of the wild flowers and grasses alongside the track. Twice we were overtaken by a mountain biking cyclist pedaling uphill, who then returned at breakneck speed downhill. I'm fairly sure it was the same cyclist, and this was his part of his training regime, to develop nerves of steel as well as muscles.

On return we had a drink and a snack, then walked down to the Playa Vilches and back. The sun was setting out of sight, somewhere beyond Torrox, but its glow as it reached the horizon cause a few white fluffy clouds in the bay to turn pink and produce a pink reflection of the cloud in the sea. 

The photos I took with my phone camera identified the place as the Mar de Alborán, the name given to this narrowing region of the western Mediterranean leading to the Straights of Gibraltar. Alborán is a small island half way between Morocco and Spain's Almeria Province I learned later - its name means 'The Storm'. Both of us were quiet tired when we returned, and after uploading photos, early bed again!

A chilly dip

Another night of good sleep, though not enough of it. Breakfast on the terrace in the sun sharing the view was such a pleasure. Then we walked to Nerja along the sea shore, called into the church shop to say Hello and continued with a walk around a town busy with visitors. I took Kath to see the art exhibition I'd visited which I think she appreciated as much as I did and we had a drink at Biznaga in the Plaza de San Salvador. 

A circle of onlookers with mobile phones had gathered in anticipation of a wedding taking place. A guard of honour was lined up of Guardia Civil officers in ceremonial dress uniforms wearing their  antiquated tricorn hats and carrying swords. I wonder what el Caudillo would think of today mixed gender squad of officers on parade?

In the Plaza de Espana behind the Ajuntamiento, a Saturday market was being held, with mainly craft craftsmen and jewellers presenting their wares, high quality tasteful locally made artifacts. A smaller scale version of the one at Muele Uno in Malaga Puerto, perhaps a bit more upmarket, as befits Nerja's tourism offer.

On completing our town tour, we walked back, and I cooked us a quick lunch using a can of precooked lentils spuds and beans. At half past three we ate, on the balcony again, in the sun. Later on, Kath went for a dip in the garden pool, still cold enough to raise a howl of protest, but she swam around for five minutes once she'd immersed herself. I don't bring a swimming costume any more. Such discomfort doesn't appeal to me.

I had my sermon to finish and some other writing to complete, and it was gone six when we drove to Aldi's for more wine and food to see us through the rest of the weekend, including big tuna steaks for a late Sunday lunch. I made a salad with potato, onion, tomato, olives and tinned tuna, with olive oil and balsamic vinegar for a light supper when we returned. A pleasure to prepare, a pleasure to eat. Finally, a chat with Clare on WhatsApp, printing tomorrow's sermon, then preparing for the coming day going to bed early.

Kath arrives

I slept well, but less than I do habitually, waking with the bright early sunlight. After breakfast I worked on my Sunday sermon, until John called in to collect me for an introductory meeting at the Balcon Hotel with the two wedding planners I'm doing blessing services with in May. One of them had come from Burgos, eight hours away by car, and almost as long by public transport. There's be other wedding planning meetings with them in coming weeks, with or without the happy couples. These weddings are elaborate affairs, staged scrupulously in detail. Giving an inward spiritual dimension to such outward facing events is a challenge, to say the least. 

After we parted company, I walked up to the Mercadona to do some more food shopping, then went to get the bus, not realising that the last bus before the three hour siesta gap had left an hour earlier. Serves me right for not noticing the time. I had to walk back carrying three kilos of shopping. The last thing I needed was a steep hill at the end. Taking it more slowly than usual with double the number of recovery pauses, I coped without exhausting myself

Early evening, everything was ready for Kath's arrival,  She sent me a message when the flight was about to take off, punctually. This gave me time I needed to prepare a meal for her, knowing she'd be hungry after a day's work ending in an outbound flight from Birmingham. I drove to Malaga airport via Torrox Costa. The traffic wasn't too heavy, but driving westward all the way into the setting sun kept me on the alert and careful. The sun was touching the horizon as I drove into the airport, exactly on time.

Kath's flight arrived ten minutes early, and she made her way up to the Express short stay parking zone on the Departures level, where we had arranged to meet. As I drove in, there she was, standing just inside the entrance smiling and waving. I stopped in my tracks as there was nobody on on my tail, she got in and we headed straight out benefiting from two minutes of fifteen minutes free parking! The return journey in the dark took slightly longer, but by ten o'clock I had the pasta cooking and the accompanying veggie sauce warming up. We talked until very late, happy to be together and share this special kind of togetherness in a country we both love and enjoy.

Local bus, first use

Another day of blue sky and bright sunshine with an assortment of birthday greetings coming in from family and friends by email and WhatsApp. Clare posted a card, but if it has arrived it hasn't yet been retrieved from the urbanizacion mailbox at the bottom of the hill. The key has yet to be returned to John the Churchwarden by whoever it was last looked after chaplaincy mail retrieval. Ah well never mind, we did talk at length later in the day.

I couldn't go out as I had work to do this morning, a sermon to write for Sunday, and the weekly pew sheet to finish off, prepared by John and emailed to me to tweak the page format before printing on the parish's network lazer printer. It's a nice piece of kit, attached by network cable to the ancient office laptop. It's very slow to start up, but the software on it still works as intended without any fuss once I got the hang of it, and was able to print off the sheets for use on Sunday.

I cooked a spicy vegetable sauce with spuds for lunch, and mid afternoon walked down to the nearest bus stop serving the neighbouring Ladera del Mar II urbanizacion, whose luxury houses are served by a road that winds its way up a steep valley overlooking the sea. There's no bus shelter or formal place for the bus to pull in at this final stop and turning point for the Linea 3 service. The large urban service bus timetable is printed on a large panel affixed to the base of the cliff overlooking the road. It took me a quarter of an hour to reach the stop from the house. The single ticket fare is just one euro, and the bus speeds you into the town centre to the parada on a street above the beach from which it starts and finishes. Very useful, as it's just a couple of minutes walk from there to the church shop, and it saves on using the car and having to park it.

I wandered the town centre streets, reassembling my mental map of the layout a bit like putting a jigsaw together. I found a small municipal art gallery which is currently hosting the work of two local women painters. One focused on painting people, mostly woman of Asiatic origin, the other portraying mostly women of European origin, with characterful bold stares - the sitter interrogating the one who's looking, whereas the Asian women portrayed are more inward and subjective in their gaze. Fascinating.

I called in to the Iglesia del Salvador to pray, and after a while was enlisted by the organist to help free her instrument's power cable which had got trapped in one of its its wheels. Then I returned to the bus stop to catch the six fortyfive bus return bus, but it didn't arrive until seven. After supper I chatted with Kath about meeting her at the airport tomorrow evening, then walked up the hill and back to complete my exercise quota for the day, before heading for bed.

Church shop endurance

Awake at sunrise again. It's pleasant to lie there and look on days when the sky is bright and clear. After breakfast, I put a load of clothes through the washing machine and hung them out to dry on in the sun on the balcony, then decided to go into Nerja to visit the church shop, and get those few items I needed but failed to find or remember on previous shopping trips, namely small kitchen knives, hair shampoo and bars of soap. I walked as far as the nearest bus stop, about a mile from the house, but missed hourly Line 3 bus to the town centre. As I could walk all the way before the next one came, I walked along the beach instead, with a pleasant cooling breeze in my face.

The shop was quite busy, both with bargain hunting customers and staff busy with sorting out new clothes donations in a crowded space, I felt I was getting in the way, but the team were pleased that I'd come to check in with them. Nerja's church shop is a long standing ex-pat institution, which recycles a huge range of garments and accessories from top designer dresses down to kiddies clothes. 

It's been going as long as the chaplaincy has and survived the pandemic. It draws ex-pat volunteers from outside church circles too. When I was here before, there was a midweek Eucharist before the shop opened. During covid, a streamed service took its place, but since then, attendance dwindled, and there's been nothing midweek since the retirement of Fr Nigel last year. All the more reason a pastor to turn up on a Wednesday and loiter with intent in the shop. Inevitably books get donated as well. Holidaymakers come in, buy or donate. Sometimes the latest thing bought in an airport bookshop arrives, gets snapped up and exchanged among initiates, gaining even more readers than booksellers ever imagine!

Ninety percent of the books donated are in English. I checked the foreign book shelf to see what I could find. Ninety five percent were in Scandinavian languages or German! Nevertheless, I came away with two books in Spanish; one a novel by Umberto Eco, the other a story woven around exposing the sordid side of the lives of political leaders during the Second World War by Juan Eslava Galan. Reading these over the next nine weeks will be quite a challenge. They are too think and heavy to fit into my tightly packed travel bags.

I bought the small kitchen knives I needed in a labyrinthine Chinese emporium, and soaps from the Mercadona whose entrance I didn't find yesterday. When I got to the bus station, it turned out that I had missed the returning Line 3 bus and would have to wait three quarters of an hour, so I walked back. Although it was midday, the cooling breeze made walking the extra miles tolerable, and I was back at the house cooking lunch by two. 

On the way, I took a photo of the Line 3 timetable at the bus stop, to study in detail, and memorise the times in order to plan better my next trip into town. I reckon it's a half hour walk to the nearest bus stop to be certain of not missing one. Much to my surprise, I learned that Line 3 first point of departure in town is not actually at the bus station but at the bottom of the street in which the church shop is located. If only I'd realised this before!

I spent the afternoon making the video slide show for next week's Morning Prayer and uploading it to YouTube. The sun casts a long shadow down the middle of the valley from mid afternoon onwards so I went for a walk down the hill at tea time in the sunlight that remained, just for the pleasure of it.

In the chaplain's office downstairs is the 17" Acer laptop I remember using when I was last here. Since then it's been 'upgraded' to Windows 10, and now runs so slowly you need a lot of time, patience and confidence that it's not dead, when it's simply loading an app and processing data. A couple of days ago, I nursed it through a major update. When it finally became responsive I found its  Google Chrome housed the memorized credentials for the Chaplaincy website, and editing app. I was concerned when I looked at the site a couple of months ago to discover it hadn't been updated in the past three years. Finding the means to update the site gave me a job to do I wasn't expecting, but I feel happier to think now that potential Sunday visitors for worship won't now give up in despair on the Parish website.

After supper I chatted with Clare. She already has boarding passes for her trip. I tried to obtain mine but couldn't, as I can't be allocated a seat until the week before the flight as I chose the low cost no baggage option for a short trip home. Discrimination against those with less money to spend. What else can you expect from a system destined to destroy this world?

So ends my 79th year on earth.

Nerja supermarket tour

While it was still dark, I heard the main door click as Jorje entered quietly and went to work on the pool at the bottom of the garden, adding purification tablets, checking the water pump. I didn't hear him leave as I slipped away into sleep again. I woke up just before sunrise and took a photo of the valley as the sun was about to rise out of sight above the horizon. From where the sun did appear above the side of the valley a while later, I learned that the valley is oriented roughly east south east. A strong wind caused the windows to moan in their frame

After listening to 'Thought for the Day' I got up and made porridge for breakfast as usual. Jorje returned to switch off the pump and fish stray vegetation out of the pool. He's happy to talk with me in Spanish, and said he used to chat in Spanish with Fr Nigel the previous chaplain and his Uruguayan wife Pilar. He is Argentinian, easier to understand than a native Andalusian! Until lunchtime, I prepared and recorded next week's Morning Prayer and Reflection, then added chorizo to the second instalment of the dish I cooked yesterday.

I then walked down to the main road and followed the senda litoral in the Torrox direction as far as the Torre de Calaceite. My body started to remind me how far I walked yesterday so I turned and retraced my steps back to the house to upload photos and have a cup of tea. The house number plate fashioned from decorative tiles in a fancy little wrought iron frame was lying on the ground unbroken, blown off the wall by the pestering wind. Fixing it back on wasn't easy, as I couldn't find any tools in the house. An umbrella with a metal tip came to the rescue, giving me a blunt hard instrument with which to push together the soft metal loops used to mount the plate on the wall. It needs another mounting screw to prevent the wind from prising it loose.

A few things I didn't buy yesterday I still needed, so I drove to Nerja intending to go to Mercadona, but I approached it the wrong way for accessing the car park. Instead I drove right through to the eastern outskirts of the town where there's a second Mercadona, easier to locate at the side of a main road, even if the car park entrance is a little awkward. And there's a Carrefour nearby on the opposite side of the road. 

I settled for the Carrefour as I remembered it was easier to entre and exit for returning to Torrox. I found everything on my list with the exception of a few small paring knives for the kitchen. On the journey back I went to the Aldi store which is opposite Lidl on the same site, but neither store sells cutlery, but I did buy a couple of 8 litre bottles of water. The mains water is supplied by an artesian well. It's clean and safe to drink, but the taste when it comes to cooking or making tea is a different matter.

It's interesting to see the Aldi store opposite Lidl's was probably constructed more recently than Lidl, as it has an open underground car park without a gate entry system to control the length of one's stay in the car park. A smaller site has been optimised by this design approach. It was almost empty, whereas Lidl's surface car park with gate entry system is pretty full most of the time. This is free to use, but your ticket has to be validated for exit by the checkout operator. None of this at Aldi's. Access is easy once you know how, but not as visible to find as a surface car park. 

After supper I tried getting the telly to work. It was rigged up to receive UK cable TV. All the devices attached to it seem to work but there's no external signal input. Something's amiss I think. Unless there's some aspect of this assemblage I don't understand at all. I followed a line of cable from the system to the balcony, but reached a dead end. If there was once a satellite dish or aerial at the end of the line, there isn't now. I'm not bothered about this. I have my Spanish novel to read for entertainment before it's time for bed.

Nerja via the Senda Litoral

The sun was shining when I woke up, dispersing the haze and leaving a clear view of the sea horizon at the bottom of the valley. I had a lengthy shopping list and decided to go to the nearest supermarket on the road to Frigiliana on western edge of Nerja. I had a choice between Lidl and Aldi, both of which are in situated conveniently in the same retail zone. 

I was taken aback to find the layout of the shelves wasn't as consistent as ones I've visited at home and other places in Spain, where it's usually easy to navigate and find whatever you want. There was a noticeable absence of overhead labelling for various product sections and I spent a lot of time wandering around looking for rice and chickpeas. It wasn't so easy to find a staff member who wasn't working flat out unpacking new stock and putting it on shelves. In the end I bought nearly all that was on my list, and paid with my Post Office Money Card without needing the PIN. 

For some indefinable reason I felt anxious about making this shopping trip, though it's something I've done often before in Spain. It's usually the first thing I do when I arrive. Arriving so late in a new place ruled this out. There was more than enough food in the house to last for several more days, and the much more important priority of a Sunday service to focus on. Getting caught out yesterday in the bar without any cash to pay for my drink did make me realise that I wasn't quite as prepared as I thought I was, then I started wondering if there was anything else I'd forgotten to do. A successful visit to Lidl put an end to my little anxiety, thankfully.

For lunch, I cooked a savoury vegetable dish with potatoes, having bought all the spices I needed to replace, as the kitchen spice rack was almost empty. John came by afterwards, having arranged to meet here with Jorje the pool maintenance man, and he introduced him to me. I learned from John that I'll be paid cash for the weekly honorarium in euros. I'm happy with that, but still wanted to have some cash on me during the rest of the week, just in case, so I walked to Nerja on the senda litoral to the Plaza de Espana, where I know there's a Santander ATM. 

Quite a bracing wind accompanied me on a walk that was more than an hour each way. It was good to familiarise myself with the town centre again. It's not changed a great deal and my memory of the place awakened as I walked. The ATM would only give me €140. I was expecting a higher limit. Not that it matters. I can cover every eventuality now. That gives peace of mind.

By the time I dragged my aching feet up the last steep kilometer to the house I'd covered nearly 14km. I did the same distance last Wednesday too. It's a surprise. I didn't think I'd have the stamina for this, and tomorrow will be payback time!

Rachel saw a 64% solar eclipse in Phoenix, which was too far west to be in the totality zone, just as exciting in any case. It's nine years since the last one I saw. Today, I was just glad to have bright sunshine and blue sky again after so many grey days all this year.

Settling in

After a fair night's sleep in a different bed and different place, I got up late to a grey morning, though not as dark grey as Cardiff under cloud. Hazy mist persisted most of the day, diluting the sun's rays, but it was at least warm enough to shed a pullover in the afternoon. After a slow breakfast of porridge, bread with olive oil and jam, John arrived by car to escort me to San Miguel for the Eucharist, a kind reminder of the route from the new chaplaincy house on the outskirts of Torrox, the neighbouring coastal municipality to Nerja on the west. Inevitably in the neighbourhood of Iglesia San Miguel, finding a parking place wasn't easy. After parking his own, John took the chaplaincy car and parked it so that I could go into church to brief the assistant ministers of the Eucharist and prepare for the service.

There were twenty of us, all above retirement age, a congregation with fewer visitors this week as a wave Easter holidaymakers return home. There were several people I remember from last time I was here, but maybe a few more who remembered me! San Miguel has had a make-over since I was last here. The ceiling has been lowered, and now acoustic tiles dampen the reverberation which used to make the building sound a bit like a warehouse rather than a church. It all looks very fresh and clean. 

After the Eucharist I went to Bar Atalaya, a few minutes walk up the street on the main road, to join a group of half a dozen having a drink and a chat before going their ways - some returning to UK, others with an hour's journey to make. It struck me how committed people have to be to make the effort, and how important it is that services are worth the effort to attend.

When a went to pay for my 0% beer, I discovered it was cash only payment, and had to ask John to pay for me. I only brought digital money with me and not had an opportunity to withdraw cash. I forgot how the UK is ahead of other countries in going cashless, like Scandinavia, so I've got out of the habit of carrying notes and coins. Lesson learned. Returning from the bar, I had to search streets in the vicinity of San Miguel to reach the car, though I had seen where John had parked it. I need to familiarize myself with the grid plan street layout once again.

Once back at church house, I cooked pasta and a veggie sugo for a very late lunch. Then I walked down Tamango Hill, under the N340a to the lay-by overlooking the sea which was part of the original road before it was upgraded. Motorists stop and park there to take in the view, visit a clifftop restaurant, or to walk down to Playa Güilche, a grey shingle beach with a restaurant of its own. The clifftop grass verge and other grassy slopes are full of yellow and violet wild flowers at the moment, a delight to see. Within a few seconds I saw two pairs of goldfinches chasing each other around in a courtship ritual. Lovely.

The kilometre walk back uphill to Church House was quite demanding as the road is steep and winding. I didn't get too out of breath, but my legs need to get used to hill climbing again. I haven't done much since I was in Los Boliches last spring. I chatted with Owain on WhatsApp, and after a light supper of bread olive oil and tomatoes, I listened to 'The Archers' and then chatted with Clare. Uploading the day's photos to Google Photos was slow. Download speed is significantly faster than upload with the house internet unfortunately. Only then did I start remembering and writing about yesterday's journey, and it was much later than I thought when I called it a day. My photos can be found here.

Better late than cancelled

Up at seven thirty, out of the house by eight twenty to walk to the coach station for nine o'clock coach to Bristol Airport. Slower than usual, due to heavy backpack and dragging wheeled cabin bag. The bus was on time, and I was in the departures area within fifteen minutes of arrival. 

Getting through security despite the volume of early travellers was efficient and swift. The flight was 45 minutes late arriving, even later departing, as the disruption to airport ground traffic from a late arrival led to extra waiting time for the bus transferring us to the aircraft. It was gone two when we were airborne. The pilot told us that the headwind of 120 mph which shaved 20 minutes off the flight arrival would add even more flying time to its return journey - nearly three hours in the air. I read my Spanish novel for much of the flight, and dozed a bit, so the time slipped by hardly noticeable. The same weather front disrupted air traffic in some parts of Europe and flights were being cancelled. Nothing to complain about here!

I was in the second row of seats, and among the first to disembark and get to passport control, a long walk through empty corridors and spaces, it seemed. I passed through without a hitch, no questions asked, and was quickly spotted by churchwarden John on my way out into the arrivals area. We reached Nerja about seven thirty and went straight to a Chinese restaurant for a meal - spicy duck for me. It was getting dark by the time we arrived at church house in a seven house terraced row half way up Paseo Tamango Hill about a kilometre from the sea in a steep verdant valley whose slopes are covered with avocado and aubergine bushes, I think, though I can't be sure as they're not yet showing.

The house is puzzling at first. As you enter from the street you go straight upstairs to the bedrooms and downstairs to the lounge and kitchen with a balcony, then downstairs again to another suite of rooms including an office and a shower, and a terrace overlooking the small swimming pool each house in the terrace possesses. It'll take some getting used to. 

The fridge has been stocked with veggies and the means to make a pasta sauce for tomorrow. There was a freshly baked loaf and amazingly, a bottle of unfiltered oil pressed from olives grown on John's finca, which is an hour's drive away to the north east in the mountains of Granada Province. And the oil, poured on to fresh bread to be consumed had a flavour like nothing you could but in a run of the mill supermarket. What a wonderful welcome. 

Despite a lot of walking today I made 90 percent of my daily target, before turning in, too tired to care about the rest.

Ready to grab and go

Up at eight to a day of changeable weather. The temperature is now sixteen degrees. After breakfast I took an hour to read a document Rufus sent me, reviewing his first six months as Missions to Seafarers Welsh Ports Chaplain, and proposing a development policy plan for the coming years. It was an interesting read observing major changes in shipping, implications for the work of the organisation in the light of church decline, and shortage of volunteers generally. The document is still a work in progress, but I was able to give him encouraging feedback and spot the odd typo. At times like this I wish I was younger and could get involved on the ground.

With all local obligations all behind me now, I could turn my attention to case packing and ensuring I have included essential adaptors, chargers, digital devices and little bottles of liquid in the right bag to present to airport security scanners. I'm taking my Panasonic TZ95 and my two Olympus cameras. The great thing about the Olympus ones is that they're compact. They all fit neatly along with my laptop, so I'm confident I'm within prescribed cabin bag size limits with room to spare. 

Clare cooked hake for lunch to go with our usual organic veggies, reminding me of something I'm looking forward to in Nerja. In spring there's an abundance of fresh baby hake available at fish counters, one of my favourite easy to cook items done in a dish on top of a pan of boiling water with olive oil and lemon. After we'd eaten, I made the video slide show for next week's Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube. I've no idea of what awaits me in my first week, getting used to working in a Chaplaincy House in a different location, so can't be sure of what time I'll have to prepare this next week, or what distractions there will be. As Ashley would say "Expect the unexpected."

At four o'clock the roofing team arrived as promised to put a slipped tile back in place on the extension roof. Fortunately it hasn't rained much since Clare spotted it on Wednesday. One of the three man team is a born again Christian, a young adult convert. We talked briefly before during the re-roofing work, but today when he arrived he started asking me why preaching on the Old Testament blessings and curses is rarely heard in churches. He'd done a three year bible college training apparently, but was dissatisfied with the ethos of the Pentecostal tradition where he'd come to faith. Study of scripture fascinated him, as for connecting this to church life and discipleship, he's still working on it. 

I explained to him that synagogue sermons would be more likely to explore that aspect of the Torah, where Christian Gospel preaching on Jewish scripture focused on Prophets and Psalms that were important to Jesus. It seemed to me that he needs to be in a church community with a lively interest in study and debate about biblical issues, but not necessarily an academic one. After this brief exchange the job was done and our brief conversation ended.

Clare and I then went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields, and listened to the news when we got back. The Israeli Army reported on its enquiry into the killing of seven aid workers, concluding that sloppiness in complying with rules of engagement for identified cleared convoys. A couple of field commanders have lost their jobs as a result. Journalists are commenting that 100 colleagues have been killed, during the war in Gaza. Nearly 200 aid workers, and nearly 500 medical workers have also died. In most cases there have been no speedy or thorough enquiries into the circumstances. People actively serving others in different ways killed, defenceless, unable to avoid being trapped in a battle zone, fought by two sides indifferent to the suffering they cause others, cynically lazy about sticking to rules of engagement. The phrase 'trigger happy' was coined long ago to describe such behaviour.

There was more work to be done before supper on finalising bag packing. It's the little details overlooked earlier when are the stumbling block, as they come and go when attention wanders. In the end, both are ready for 'grab and go after breakfast. Then a quiet time writing before watching 'Astrid  - Murder in Paris' and after a shower and hair wash, bed.

Penultimate preparations for travel

I woke up at half past seven, posted today's Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp, and carried on sleeping until nearly nine. I had trouble getting to sleep to start with as a muscle in my right shoulder blade was tensing up and threatening to take my shoulder into spasm. Something misaligned I guess. Eventually I found a way to lie on my back and give just enough support to the shoulder blade to prevent it happening and then I was able to fall asleep quickly, with no further ill-effect during the night.

After breakfast I went to St John's and celebrated the Eucharist for just three of the regulars. The husband of another regular we haven't seen recently died yesterday. That's why we've not seen her. We had coffee afterwards and Ruth presented me with a chocolate caterpillar shaped cake in anticipation of my birthday next week. That was a surprise! Yesterday I received a birthday card she'd sent - an 80th birthday card. She had been misinformed by someone of my current age. We enjoyed a laugh about it. I shall keep it until next year.

On return home, I cooked sardines and veg for lunch, then caught a bus into town, to hunt for a new pair of sandals and a pair of lightweight trousers to take with me to Spain. I got  sandals at Sketchers, half the price I paid last time. After much rummaging through packed trouser rails in Mountain Warehouse, got a half price pair very similar to ones I wear every day. As I have lost weight, and there was no cloth tape measure in the shop (can you believe it?) to check my waist size and knowing that I have lost weight I guessed correctly the size I needed, and now have a new pair to wear while travelling that will stay up without a belt when passing through airport security

Later in the afternoon I had a text message about booking a covid vaccination later this month. I rang up try and arrange another for when I return, but have to call back tomorrow to rearrange a date, either when I return at the end of my stay, or maybe when I return mid-May with Clare. Some with the MRI scan I'm due too. The NHS system doesn't allow for re-scheduling beyond eight weeks.

After supper, I worked on next Thursday's Morning Prayer and reflection, then recorded and edited it. My Post Office Money card needed topping up with Euros. I couldn't recall how much I added to the card last year, and was annoyed to find information from last year was no longer available. Having had a most frustrating time with the Post Office Travel Card app when I tried it several times earlier in the year, as it wasn't working properly after an upgrade, I tried it again, and it gave me a undesired security run-around before letting me in, but now it does work, and I have been able to add a sum to it, so that I have an alternative to my Santander debit and credit cards. 

I also wanted to get the EasyJet app to deliver me a QR code for Google Wallet to use instead of a piece of paper when I enter departures at Bristol airport. This app also gave me a security run-around before it delivered what I wanted. My paper coach ticket has a QR code on it, and the phone has two scanning apps, but frustratingly these deliver only pdf files which you then have to convert to jpeg photo format. Fine if you can get a clear focussed scan to start with, which I didn't. I had to rely on the camera to take a jpeg photo of the QR code on the paper ticket, and then edit it to exclude from the photo areas which weren't part of the code, as this generates errors and Google Wallet isn't fault tolerant. So much for AI. There's nothing smart about these fiddly procedures unfortunately.

Anyway those tasks are done now. All I need now is to select clothes and pack them tomorrow, after a good night's sleep.

Surprise Party

When I got up this morning the news was full of yesterday's killing of seven food aid workers, targeted in an air strike, even though their route had been identified their transit authorised through a conflict zone in accordance with agreed protocol. The Israeli military say it was an accident. It remains to be seen how this happened, but in this war zone already there has been a case of released Israeli hostages gunned down by by Israeli soldiers on the ground suspicious that the while flag of surrender the victims brandished was a terrorist false flag. 

If this tragedy was due to a drone strike, it show that even a remote control operator not caught in the heat of battle, confused by the fog of war is equally prone to errors of judgement. The death toll in Gaza is now nearly 33,000, inhabitants on the brink of starvation for lack of aid supplies and as a result of this incident, aid convoys have been suspended yet again. The Israeli government has targeted key Iranian military men in a strike on the Iranian consulate in Damascus, and inevitable reprisals will destabilise the situation even further for Israeli citizens. Whatever next? 

After breakfast I went to St Catherine's and celebrated the Eucharist with ten others.There was no coffee and chat today as the church hall is being redecorated, so I went straight to Chapter to collect this week's veggie bag. Clare cooked lunch, then we took it in turns to do the weekly grocery shopping using a new shopping trolled Clare had bought. Unfortunately, it's not as easy to handle as previous ones and not as stable so it will take some getting used to. Then I went for a walk, and when Clare returned we went to the Western Avenue retail park to look for a suitable new step ladder, but found nothing. We'll need to drive to B&Q at the top end of Cowbridge Road east tomorrow to get a better selection.

We were mysteriously invited to go to Iona's for drinks at six. When we arrived, we were joined by nearly a dozen officers from churches in the Ministry Area, for what turned out to be a thank you party for the work I did running Sway over the last seven months. Paula my successor was there as well, and that was good. Iona didn't realise that Paul has already taken charge of Sway. I was pleased about that as it meant the handover was in effect seamless. The party was such a surprise, and it was in a way a celebration of the end of the vacancy, and the successful ownership of one collaborative venture that helps bind together the six churches of the Ministry Area.

We returned for a late supper and afterwards I watched the finale of 'This Town', and then last Friday's episode of 'Astrid - Murders in Paris' which I missed. Then bed, later than usual.

Resignation surprise

Up at eight on a grey sky day. I drove to St German's after breakfast to attend Mass and sign the baptismal register, as I'd been unable to on Saturday night and left with Churchwarden Peter a small gift for Basma. Fr Jarel mentioned Dean Richard Peers in the prayers, It seems that he announced his early retirement on Sunday morning. Somebody else mentioned it to me yesterday, but I thought they must have been mistaken. It seems the ordeal of enduring a vexatious complaint process which started during his time at Christchurch College Oxford has taken its toll on him. Only last week was he exonerated by a clergy disciplinary court and his accusers castigated. It's so sad for the diocese to lose a gifted priest in this way. He's not the first senior cleric to quit recently. Does the church know any longer how to care for and protect its pastors?

When I returned, Clare was already cooking an early lunch, as she had an afternoon eye appointment at UHW. After we'd eaten I drove her there, then returned and went for a walk. It drizzled most of the time while I was out, but I got back just as the rain got heavier. The rest of the day I spent watching episodes of 'This Town'. It's a moving portrayal of dystopian life in outer suburban council housing areas in East Birmingham and Coventry at the time when the IRA was active in the West Midlands, with a spy thriller story embedded in it, in addition to a story about young people's striving to make a break their inherited family scripts. Of particular interest to me is the portrayal of non institutional religion in their lives.

Getting travel ready

A good long night's sleep waking up to sunshine, though it didn't last. After breakfast, I did my share of the weekly housework and then cooked lunch. Last Thursday, after a disturbed night trying to sleep with a bleeping smoke alarm I forgot to take Communion to Sandra after the Eucharist. I tried contacting her to apologise over the weekend and rearrange, but didn't get through to her until this morning. She was very understanding, and happy for me to visit her mid-afternoon.

When I got back I walked to the coach station renewed my coach card and booked my ticket for travel to Bristol Airport on Saturday. I decided to walk home via Bute Park, but on the other side of the Millennium Bridge I met Clare walking in the opposite direction, so I turned and walked back with her. I wanted to go further, but it started to rain as I stepped out of the house, so I stayed in and focused on preparing to travel instead, gathering travel adaptors and leads for various devices, checking my bags are within the size limits prescribed etc. Churchwarden John had emailed me a letter to prove where I would be stay and what I'll doing, so I printed this along with my flight boarding pass, and travel insurance information. 

Altogether, I counted eight documents necessary to have in my possession to arrive in Nerja and stay there for ten weeks: passport, 'Carta de invitacion', driving license and international driving permit, GHIC card and health insurance, coach ticket and boarding pass. Not including means of payment, card and cash. It's such a contrast to how things were fifty five years ago, when we went hitch hiking in Europe as students with British Visitors Passport travel document valid for only a year and a wad of paper money hidden in a rucksack. I don't remember having insurance or a travel plan. We went wherever the lifts we were offered took us - Belgium, France and Switzerland, everything taken on trust.

After supper, it was still raining, though not very heavily, so I ventured out with a brolly and walked in the dark for three quarters of an hour, before settling down to watch the second episode of 'This Town which started last night. It continues to impress with its complex story line and dialogue. The next two episodes of six are shown live next Sunday and Monday, when I'm in Spain, but fortunately, all six are on the BBC iPlayer already, so I'll have an opportunity to watch them before I leave.

Easter in the congregation

Another cold and sunny morning. Clare and I had breakfast on our own. Kath and Anto slept late and only surfaced after we left for the Eucharist at St Catherine's. There were about fifty of us in church, Fr Rhys presided and preached, Bishop Rowan was in the pew with his family. Knowing his deep love of Eastern Orthodoxy we exchanged the Easter greeting in Greek, with smiles all round. I can't say that I enjoyed the service that much, though we sang familiar hymns, and Fr Rhys preached quite well. The atmosphere is convivial and domestic in a good way I guess, but it lacks the awe and sense of mystery I need. We didn't stay to socialise afterwards but returned home to spend time with Kath and Anto. Clare was keen to ensure that lunch was one the table by one. And it was so.

We went for a walk around Pontcanna Fields after lunch. I didn't expect to feel tired after a good night's sleep despite the change to summer time, but I did feel tired. It was different from the usual mental and emotional exhaustion associated with the intensity of Holy Week duties. It was more a physical tiredness from walking so much further yesterday.  

At tea time, Kath and Anto headed back to Kenilworth, to spend the evening with Rhiannon, who's been working at Warwick Castle again over the weekend. The sun is setting later tonight, but cloud has returned with the prospect of more rain. On discussing the state of the weather in Spain I checked on Malaga, weather, where it's twenty degrees, but also raining. Andalusia, however, needs as much rain as it can get after a lengthy drought. 

After supper, I went out to walk for another half hour as it was getting dark, then returned to watch 'This Town' a new drama serial on BBC1 set in the West Midlands in the early eighties. Kath and Anto were talking about it earlier as it was shot on location in both Coventry and East Birmingham. It takes us back to the time of the Handsworth riots, and IRA terrorism in Britain, partly crimmie, partly family drama with mixed race teenagers growing up and struggling to break with the legacy of their parents' generation, wanting to forge their own ways in life through musical creativity - the era of innovative Ska and Two Tone music. It's a  period piece well described visually with a promising first episode. A pity I'll be out of the country while most of the episodes are shown in the next month.

Churchwarden John emailed my 'carta de invitacion' covering my stay in Spain, identifying my duties and place of residence just in case I'm quizzed on arrival at the border. It's unlikely I'll need it, but having this just in case will ensure smooth passage. After the intensity of last night, Easter Sunday has felt flat. I'll be back on duty this week and for the next ten weeks. I wonder how I'll be when I return, and how I will feel without making myself useful. Addiction to making myself useful as a priest is something I need to tackle. I don't really know what else to shape my active life around, but it's time to open up to new things, even if I have no idea what that means yet.

Unforgettable initiation

I woke up early to a bright sunny day, though still chilly. We had a leisurely breakfast with added festive croissants and Easter eggs, delivered if not consumed. added. Then we walked into town accompanying  Owain who had to return home early to prepare for a deejaying gig this evening. He wanted to visit M&S to buy some socks, as Bristol no longer has a convenient city centre store, so we went with him and had a  coffee there once Owain left for the station. In the menswear section, he bumped into an old friend of his from the Cardiff techno scene, with whom he had corresponded only yesterday. Sheer coincidence, which gave pleasure to both of them. Anto hadn't been to the city centre for several years and was curious to see how different it looks as a result of the redevelopment, so I gave him a guided tour of all the new builds, then we walked home along the Taff.

We went to Stefanos for an early evening meal at five, so I could leave in good time to drive to St German's for the Easter Vigil at St German's by seven. When Basma arrived we went through the detail of the baptismal rite together with Peter and Hilary, her sponsors and James who looked after the practical details. Basma's daughter Maya and an English friend came with her. There's no better time in the year than Easter Eve for a baptism even if the services is rather long. 

My contribution was to simply to conduct the baptism rite. after the Liturgy of the Word, which included a thoughtful and appropriate sermon by Fr Jarel. Basma was understandably moved by the experience, having waited for so many years to be safe and free to proceed. I was nervous about forgetting the words of baptism in Arabic or pronouncing it incorrectly, but it came out right in the moment. Peter and Hilary her sponsors played their part and were also visibly moved, and several others said the same after the service. For Basma it's the end of one long journey and the beginning of another. Accompanying her to the font this past six months has been an experience I won't forget.

I stood in the sanctuary in silent prayer during the Eucharistic prayer and Communion, something I've done rarely, and this too was a beautiful way to be on the receiving end of the service at the climax of a  Triduum in which I had no other duties to perform.

I was home just after ten. My Fitbit sent me several notifications congratulating me in a patronising and childish way for walking 20,000 steps during the day, possibly the first time it has recorded my doing this. I found everyone had gone to bed already, anticipating the advancement of the clock by an hour. In fact all the house clocks but one had been put forward, so after a glass of wine, I also took advantage of an early night to rejoice in my bed, tired but happy.

In the pew for once on Good Friday

I woke up to bright sunshine after a good night's restorative sleep, and spent the morning quietly before going  to St German's by bus and on foot for the Liturgy of the Day which was at noon, the first hour of the suffering of the crucified Christ rather than the customary third hour. I'm not sure why. There were just over twenty of us for the service. 

I sent a message to Basma hoping she would come, but didn't realise until later that that she'd gone to London with a friend. She has been worried about going ahead with her baptism tomorrow night without having the letter notifying her of residency. Her case handler is clear that this is not in doubt, but the letter may be subect to bueraucratic delay. After several exchanges of email, she decided to go ahead and trust what she has been told. It's understandable she's like this having waited for nearly thirty years to convert

We sang well, unaccompanied for the two hymns set for the occasion, and Fr Jarel preached a short homily. The text of the Reproaches we used was a revision of the traditional ones with sharp contemporary references inserted, bringing the whole thing alive in a fresh way. Fr Jarel asked if I would stand in for someone who wasn't able to come, reading one of the parts set for the Passion, but I declined. Apart from the covid lockdown Passiontide, this is the first time in many years that I have had nothing to do during the Triduum, and I simply wanted to be on the receiving end and silently absorb the occasion. It's the first time I can recall coming away from a service not drained or over exhilarated by the effort and experience, but refreshed.

I caught the bus back into town and its arrival in Westgate Street coincided with the departure of a 61 bus, so I was home before two. After a snack I went for a walk in the park. After a sunny morning rain showers punctuated the afternoon. Kath, Anto and Owain were to arrive by six. While waiting for them, I watched the Malaga Good Friday processions broadcasted live on YouTube. At the moment I joined a woman in traditional dress was singing a saeta of lament outside the Ajuntamiento, not far from La Malagueta where I stayed on tours of locum duty in years past. Then I realised that she was singing in front of the trona del descendimiento, being carried by the portadores of the Malagueta cofradia. They had stopped in the place I took photos of them back in 2018. What a coincidence. Then I saw another procession down the street where the church of St John the Baptist is located, another familiar location. My memories of Malaga old town are still delightfully vivid.

I cooked a chick pea and veggie stew for supper with brown rice. Unfortunately I underestimated the volume of rice needed, and had to fall back on instant couscous to feed myself. But never mind, we drank a nice Gamay de Bourgogne to go with it, and chatted until bedtime. Lovely to have the family here, but missing Rachel. We didn't get to call her tonight unfortunately.

Alarming awakening

A rainy day with occasional thunder and even bursts of sunshine. At two thirty this morning the painful nagging bleep of a dying smoke alarm battery disrupted my sleep. I got up and with Clare's help holding the ladder attempted to change the battery, but failed to get the cover off to access the battery. I gave up an hour later and endured the remainder of a disturbed night's rest. 

I woke up at seven, posted today Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp and dozed for another hour before getting up for breakfast. Clare contacted an electrician mate of Owain's, who was helpful explaining how to get the cover off, but I was still unable to locate the slot harbouring the trigger for the cover release. It turned out to be on the side of the device that I couldn't see without taking a dangerous risk as it faced the void above the staircase.

I had to abandon my efforts in order to get to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist, giving myself time to calm down and say Morning Prayer before celebrating. Thankfully Rob, a techie neighbour of ours came and sorted the problem when I was out, in response to an appeal for help from Clare. There were nine of us altogether, including Father Andrew who turned up at the last minute and joined us. I think he was in the back office photocopying unnoticed as I was getting ready for the service.

We had salmon stew for lunch, using the carcass of the filleted fish Clare bought yesterday in the market when I got back from church. Then I went for a walk, and returned at four to meet Paula to finish off the Easter edition of Sway and send it out by Mailchimp. She's got the hang of it now, confident enough to go solo hereafter. Handover complete, job done. A satisfying feeling.

I had an email from churchwarden John in Nerja, with details surrounding my arrival, and a wedding date booked in late May. He and his wife will take me out for a Chinese meal on the evening of my arrival. I can't remember when last I ate in a Chinese restaurant. It's many decades ago.

After supper, Clare and I went to St German's for the Maundy Thursday Liturgy. There were twenty of us on a dark and rainy evening. The traditional rite simplified with the transfer of the Sacrament in silence and then the stripping of the altar was very effective I thought. We got back just after half past nine. 

Then I caught up on the day's events in a rainy Malaga, dipping into extracts on YouTube of the three hour video of the arrival of the Spanish Legion by ship, the march to the casa cofradia la Mena, and bringing out from San Domenico church next door of the huge image of Christ dead on the cross, known as el Cristo del Buen Muerte, for mounting on its trono. 

I've seen the disembarking in the flesh, but not the latter until now. I also listened to an interview with film star Antonio Banderas talking about the cultural, social and spiritual value of Semana Santa activities in our radically changing times, and understood enough to know what he was on about. Then bed early to try and make up for sleep lost last night

One of my happy places

I woke up to a morning of cloud and occasional showers. After breakfast I went on the bus to St Peter's Fairwater for the only Eucharist of the day, St Catherine's celebration have been cancelled in favour of a service of the Word this evening. As I was crossing the road to reach the 61 bus stop a bus passed in front of me, so I ran up the road behind it, about fifty metres, without running out of energy or getting terribly breathless. Then on the way back after the service, the same happened again, and I caught the bus, quite pleased with this minor achievement, without pushing myself too hard, or hurting myself.

Before the service Fr Andrew played Taize recorded chants, just the instrumental music, used as a backing track for congregational singing. It was a question of guessing the chant to pray with. One I recognised was 'Veni Sancte Spiritus Tui amoris ignam accende' which I learned on a Taize visit nearly thirty seven years ago. When Fr Andrew started singing just before the service began, he sang an English translation of the words I didn't know. It shows how out of touch I am I guess. 

A congregation of about twenty were present, the same number as regularly attend in my experience of taking services there. I may have been the only person attending from neighbouring Canton churches. Most faithful churchgoers are territorial, creatures of habit. If their routine service isn't available, they are reluctant to go elsewhere. They can change, but only if there's no longer any alternative and may just stop attending altogether, as happened during the pandemic closure of churches. I've been used to worshipping in many different ways and places throughout my adult life appreciating both routine and change, but what I seek when I'm on the receiving end is a quality of teaching and prayer from which I can learn, grow and be challenged. It's not getting any easier to find this nowadays, sad to say.

I got off the bus outside Victoria Park on the journey back, and walked around the park once before going home to fetch the veggie bag to go to Chapter and collect this week's order. Clare was in town shopping at Ashton's for fresh fish to freeze when I returned, so I started making a batch of bread and cooking lunch at the same time. I had more success with getting the dough mix right than I have for a while, so it was easier to work into a nice consistent mass for leavening. Lunch was ready not long after Clare arrived. After we'd eaten she went to Beanfreaks for groceries. I baked the bread, then went to the Co-op for the rest of the food we need for the coming weekend, when we'll have Owain, Kath and Anto staying.

After supper, I spent some time catching up on Semana Santa in Malaga. There's been rain again today, like Sunday, so no street processions apart from a brief excursion by the Jesus el Rico cofradia, which is charged with the official annual ceremony of freeing one prisoner, remitting the remainder of a sentence being served by one prison inmate from the city - imitating the gesture of Pilate freeing Barabbas. It's a Holy Week tradition which has persisted for the past 270 years. Again this year, it was someone serving a three years sentence for drug trafficking who gets early release for reformed behaviour. In the absence of video from today, I watched yesterday's footage on YouTube, and glimpsed a number of familiar places around Malaga's old town in which the processions are set. I have so many good memories of time spent in the city, it's one of those really 'happy places' in my life.

Then I finished watching 'Locked up - Oasis'. Its unnecessary portrayal of extreme violence in gunfights, like a Sam Peckinpah movie, is obscene in my opinion, as well as the plethora of confusing switches between past and present scenes. It was enough to deter me from watching the fifty one episodes of the original series, for which this is some sort of finale. Apart from listening to the Spanish dialogue and being able to understand a fair amount, it gave me no pleasure.