Thanking back and thinking ahead

Another warm night followed by a hot day with the temperature in the upper twenties and likely to get hotter in the coming week. After breakfast, I drove into town and spent an hour at the shop chatting with Gill and Mike, then returned for lunch. A man came in to ask for help in finding a street in the vicinity. He said that his wife had been hospitalised after a fall which broke a bone near the joint. I'm not sure if it was her femur or an arm joint, but she was now recovering from surgery, needing to have stitches removed and was looking for the address of a clinic where this could be done. 

While helping him identify the location he was trying to find, he talked about paying a £2.75 roaming charge on his phone per day. With time running out in their holiday let, they'd been obliged to find another place to stay until she was discharged and fit for travel. It doesn't take much to turn a holiday dream into a nightmare, as I know from experience of things going wrong on locum duty. No matter how good your insurance cover is, the expense turns out to be more than envisaged.

I cooked lentils with veg for lunch, and had a siesta afterwards, waiting to go out until it started to cool down. I started thinking about my end of stay report for the diocese and wrote a first draft. Then I walked as far as the Mesonera de Nerja and back. The Guardia Civil had set up a checkpoint at the roundabout by the Ladera del Mar bus stop and were stopping vehicles randomly it seems. I've no idea what that was all about. 

After supper and a chat with Clare, I checked this week's pew sheet and set about printing it off, only to discover after four sheets that there's no paper for printing, so I'll have to go shopping tomorrow morning. I've got next week's pew sheet ready, and the one for the week after. The next locum priest is coming in at the weekend, so I thought it would ease the pressure to get it ready for him to print. And so to bed.

Respite day

Last night, I changed bedrooms, swapping a double for a single bed, so that I can get the sheets and pillow cases washed before I leave, so that I can leave linen for the single bed in the machine, ready for washing, the day of my departure. A taxi is being booked to get me to Malaga airport by eight o'clock, a week on Monday. The room with twin beds has thicker curtains, so early light won't wake me up quite so soon. Not that it worked, but seven hours good sleep refreshed me well enough after the demands of yesterday. I did some washing after breakfast then spent the rest of them morning writing my Sunday sermon.

Lunch consisted of Tuesday's leftovers, with a deliciously ripe peach to finish. The temperature rose to 28C mid afternoon with little wind, so it felt much hotter, so I stayed indoors just relaxing, not feeling the need to get out and be active, as I usually have done, until late afternoon. I walked down to Playa Playazo and back, before making hummus for supper. Then I walked uphill as the sun was setting, and saw what I think was a swallow resting on a bare branched bush. It took off singing noisily, and I could hear it in the distance for several minutes. I hear as much variety of bird song around sunset as I do at dawn, although the mixture of sounds is distinctly different.

I wrote to my friend Diana this evening to ask if she as a writer unfamiliar with my project would be willing to read through my story and give me an idea of whether it was worth reading, and what may need doing with it. Before bed, I read through a couple more chapters, made some corrections, and then bed.

Happy nuptials

Right through the day until just before sunset it's been overcast, cool and quite humid, an unusual variant on Costa weather. I had another much needed long night's sleep and then a rush to feed myself and get ready to drive into town by ten for a meeting with Ian's daughters to plan tomorrow's funeral. I was almost on time, a couple of minutes late. We talked for over an hour and assembled an order of service. After we parted company I went to the Church Shop to chat with the volunteers on duty. 

While I was there I wrote up my notes from the meeting and sent them to Elizabeth and Helena. I also needed to contact the funeral arranger, as he had not contacted me. The only tend to call a cleric to engage their services. If they know who is taking the funeral they don't bother. I couldn't call him as the funeral arranger's phone only responds to written WhatsApp messages. I wrote a message in Spanish confirming my attendance, and enquiring about facilities for attaching to the crem's audio-visual resources for a video slide show and playing the digital music we'd selected. It turns out there's an extra charge for this and as ever with digital infrastructure, no guarantee of compatibility or that it will work anyhow. So we declined the offer, and will make do with music played from a phone through a bluetooth speaker.

When the shop shut at one thirty, I went to Biznaga, treated myself to a tapas lunch again, and relaxed for the hour until it was time to prepare for the wedding. I sat in a quiet corner of the San Salvador church and spent time praying. A group of several girls aged about ten who were looking around the church accosted me, and asked if I was the priest of this church. I explained that I was an Anglican visitor, come to officiate at a wedding. They said thank you politely and went on their way, having understood me, I think!

A concert violinist was engaged to provide the wedding music, a Japanese man. He used a bluetooth speaker attached to his phone to play backing tracks for each of the pieces he played, and on his violin he had a bluetooth microphone feeding into his sound system. Sophisticated kit.

There were about thirty for the wedding with more than half a dozen bridesmaids and maids of honour, coached by the wedding arranger to walk tall in a stately fashion as they each proceeded slowly down the aisle and separately, before the bride appeared on her father's arm. It was a relaxed and happy event with smiles and much laughter once the formal walking part was over. Everyone seemed to enjoy being there and I enjoyed playing my part. It's the first wedding I've done since I was in Montreux in summer 2018, when the anal abscess started to effect me painfully and make me feel ill.. How I got through the two weddings I had to do, I don't know. Thank God I'm a lot fitter nowadays.

Having said that, I was so tired when the wedding was over, and glad to slip away and drive back to the Church House, but already preoccupied with the music for tomorrow's funeral. Sure the internet is that much more stable and ubiquitous these days, but I still don't trust a phone or a YouTube server not to halt in middle of the play list and not start up again. So, I found the chosen tracks and streamed them to Audacity to create a file which I would make into an MP3, to work independently of the internet as a one-off backup system. Helena got in touch to say they had acquired a bluetooth speaker to use at the funeral, attached to a phone with the playlist or the stored selected tracks. We're all set up now, and I won't have to worry any more.

I cooked a chicken veggie and pasta dish for supper, then went for a walk up the hill for half an hour, definitely too tired to complete my daily target step quota. Never mind. The sky was clear again, and the large tailed nightjar was upon the TV antenna at three minutes past ten, sound like it was taping out Morse Code. Instead of sounding for a minute tonight, it went on for about fifteen. It must be something to do with there being a clear sky again. And now bed, achingly tired.

A marriage in perspective

I slept for an hour longer than usual, but still felt tired when I woke up. Yesterday's drive to Fuengirola on top of the Sunday service really drained me. After breakfast, I did a load of washing. While the machine was running, I worked on a homily for tomorrow's wedding. It was gone midday when I drove into town, parked in the 'dust bowl' and visited the Church Shop for an hour. Then a tapas lunch in Biznaga while I waited to meet Scott and Laura the couple whose wedding I shall be blessing tomorrow at three in San Salvador Church. 

They've been together seventeen years and have three children, and finally decided it's time to get married, to celebrate the life they have together. Laura's dad has a house here and they've been holidaying here for years and love the place. San Salvador is more than just a romantic venue, but a place they have identified with over the years. I enjoyed meeting them and talking them through the ceremony and its choreography. It will be a happy family occasion for all involved, I'm sure. Tomorrow morning I have a meeting with Ian's daughters about their dad's funeral. The another hour or so in the shop, and tapas at Biznaga again before the wedding.

When I returned to church house, I made supper with leftovers from yesterday augmented with chorizo with a few spoonfuls of lentils, and a chunk of pan campesino acquired with a few other things on my way back to the car. I don't carry big stocks of food. It's easier with nobody but myself to care for, if I get things in modest quantities when I need them, so that what I have doesn't go stale or in the case of fruit and veg, go wrinkly and deteriorate.

With all my preparations for tomorrow finally complete, I went out for a walk at sunset. It was darker than usual as thin cloud blown in from the west was gradually enveloping the high ridges above the valley. It's humid now but just might rain in the night. I stopped by the Alcazaba I block of holiday apartments up the hill and waited to see if the large tailed nightjar would arrive as it has done previously, just around ten, to perch on the TV antenna and make its strange call, announcing the arrival of darkness I guess. Silently, a bird appeared on the roof parapet, about the size of a crow, I guess. It gave a little cheep of a sound, flew in a circle, landed on the antenna and made its distinctive call for about a minute before disappearing into the night. I tried taking a photo using the TZ95 night shot setting, but the camera would not co-operate in such low light. I miss my Sony HX90.

And n ow for another earlier night.

Remembering devoted servants of God's people

A hazy hot day, though not too humid thankfully. I admit to feeling nervous about having to drive strait to Fuengirola after this morning's Eucharist and made sure I had a bottle of water a banana and some walnuts to sustain me, as I wouldn't have time to eat lunch before leaving. I arrived at San Miguel early and started to prepare things I needed to be sure of before others arrived. We were twenty three altogether. 

Straight after greeting worshippers at the end of the service I went to the car. Someone parked so tightly in front of me that extricating the car without scraping the other was tricky needing careful manoeuvering to free myself. A nerve wracking start to the trip, but thereafter the journey was incident free. When I got to Los Boliches there was no free street parking within a short walk of St Andrew's, so I drove up the hill and parked in the street that leads to Casa de la Esperanza, the chaplaincy house and walked down to church and back up afterwards.

I reached the church twenty minutes early, when few people had arrived apart from Linda's husband Peter and group of church friends in charge of catering. This gave me leisure to greet to many people I recall well from last year's nine week locum stint here. I asked Carol le Page how her husband John was and learned that he died ten days after I arrived in Nerja. His memorial service was a fortnight ago. He was a life long Church Army Officer, a native of Guernsey. They lived many years here in retirement. Apart from being a worship leader and preacher, John dedicated himself to pastoral ministry with Fuengirola's homeless street people, only giving up when his legs failed him. Carol is talking of finding a way she can continue this ministry. He's missed by the dispossessed in the part of the Costa del Sol.

There were over forty of us, plus a few family members in the gathering. The service was relaxed and informal, the chapel set out with tables and chairs for groups of people to sit around. Wine and soft drinks were served and after Fr William the new chaplain welcomed us and said the opening prayer. I was asked to give the first tribute to Linda on behalf of other locums who have served at St Andrews, welcomed and supported by Linda. 

Clare and I were here in Holy Week 2014 when Casa de la Esperanza was ready to serve as a chaplaincy residence, and we were its first occupants. Linda's younger sister spoke, and so did a newcomer to the church whom Linda befriended, then Peter, who spoke beautifully, followed by a couple of spontaneous contributions from others. Then the service itself thoughtfully put together by Fr William, with splendid refreshments to finish. I said my goodbyes and by si was on the seventy minute journey back to Torrox Costa and Church House.

I received a message from Helena about her father's funeral on Wednesday at the Velez Malaga crem. I'm meeting her and her sister on Tuesday morning to plan the service. Later that afternoon, I'll be doing a wedding blessing in San Salvador church. Busier in a few days than I've been in the seven weeks I've been here so far. That's typical of this kind of ministry. Always on standby like the fire service with random bursts of activity. Impossible to get used to. Glad to get to bed after a tiring day.

A passing not unexpected

Well, I'm getting to bed earlier, but sleeping lighter it seems, as it's staying warmer through the night, and waking when the sun comes over the ridge of the valley. For a change, I started breakfast with bread and olives marinaded in a mixture of olive oil and lemon. A pleasant appetizer with the usual porridge, toast and marmalade to follow. Mercadona's mermelada de naranjas amargas is decent alternative to our home made version. 

After posting this week's pew sheet to the chaplaincy website and emailing it to several recipients, I drove into town, parked in the 'dust bowl' and walked to the church shop, to chat with Brian and Mary who were today's volunteers on duty. My arrival seemed to coincide with an influx of visitor, mostly Irish, shopping for colourful summer blouses to take home at the end of their stay, I guess, joking about needing to wear several of them at a time, as their bags were full enough already.

On the way back to the car, I called at Mercadona for coffee, bread and marmalade (as I've nearly finished another jar. I saw a notice in a shop window advertising a special Mass celebration for the end of May at the 18th century  Ermita de Nuestra Señora de las Angustias in Calle San Miguel. It's at seven on Sunday evening. I doubt if I'll be back from Fuengirola by then, however. Good to know that  traditional Catholic customs continue to be observed, tourism notwithstanding.

Horns were blaring in Calle San Miguel, as a long open topped vintage American car drove up the street with newly-weds in the back. Both wearing white. A gay couple coming from the Ajuntamiento on the Plaza de España I think.

A text message arrived on the Chaplaincy phone telling of the death yesterday morning of Ian Mortimer whom I visited a couple of weeks ago at Sanysol care home in Velez Malaga. It was from his daughter Helena, and addressed to Fr Nigel, as she had been given the wrong number. I needed to know anyway and was able to obtain his number for her from John. Her sister is on her way from Australia so they can make funeral arrangements together some time this week. 

When I visited him, he didn't feel well enough to receive Communion, but appreciated laying on of hands with prayer, with a reading suitable for Ascensiontide from St Paul's letter to the Colossians 'If you have been raised with Christ seek the things that are above where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.' He was one of the long standing survivors of the Almuñecar congregation. The place name is still preserved in the official name of the Chaplaincy and its website, a relic of a once successful outreach there.

I returned home and made a rice dish with mussels, onions, mushrooms, red pepper and judia plana. It worked well, seasoned with lemon and black pepper. I must remember to cook this for Clare when I get home. I needed a short siesta again after eating, and started thinking about Tuesday's wedding blessing. The chaplaincy issues a simple certificate recording the occasion. The couple and the priest sign copies after the service; one for church records another for the couple to go with their civil marriage certificate. There used to be a thick hard back book, representing the register to be signed, but the only one I could find was full, but there was a ring backed folder containing signed certificate copies from recent years. 

Then I searched the Chaplaincy laptop. The 'Documents' file system left much to the imagination of anyone but its author. Odd folders with year dates, but no indication of content plus hundreds of files unclassified. Fortunately the search facility easily produced lists of matching partial file names given  making it possible to find certificates from other wedding blessings. It gave me something to customise for Tuesday's celebration.

A cup of tea followed by a paseo on the senda litoral towards Nerja. As I reached the Mesonera de Nerja restaurant, a couple approached me and asked if I spoke French. The Mesonera doesn't operate a bar in the evenings. There's just enough staff to maintain their gourmet 'slow food' restaurant ethos. Was there another bar anywhere near. I explained about the Mirador restaurant and the one at Playa Vilches and gave them directions in French which they understood. It was a struggle to break out of the Spanish mind set, and it was a struggle to stay in the same language! They complemented me for the effort and I said I'd lived eight years in Geneva, which brought looks of comprehension - they had lived or were living in the Departement de l'Ain, just across the border!

On the return leg, I spotted the couple I'd seen earlier in the American open-top enjoying a romantic photo opportunity in a layby overlooking the sea. In the distance, loud disco sounds were emanating from the Playa de Vilches restaurant. Looking down on the beach from Paseo Tamango Hill, it became clear there was a wedding reception going on. Sadly I hadn't realised this and mis-directed the couple. I forgot the Mirador restaurant also has a bar terrace. I hope they ended up there, and not disappointed or deafened at the other place.

Tuna salad for supper, a spell of writing, with a break to record the large tailed nightjar's strange song at ten, distant but clearly audible in the nighttime stillness. I was delighted to discover how well my little dictation device served to pick up the sound, though it needed a big boost to amplify the signal when editing it in Audacity. Then reading and editing more of Dai Troubadour, before bed.

 

Shifting sands

I didn't sleep as well as I hoped to, even if I did wake up a little later, missing the song of a lone blackbird at first light. In the news, Tory spokesmen keep harping on about Keith Starmer being a man with no plan, and saying 'but we have a plan'. I'm waiting to hear someone calling them out, simply by saying 'yes you have a plan - to make your supporters richer by making the poor poorer'. I've not even heard one of Radio Four's satirists say this yet, let alone a politician.

The pool filtration system seemed to run all night as well as much of yesterday, suggesting a problem with the timing clock. When Jorge came by late morning to clean the pool, I explained in Spanish what I thought was a problem and was relieved he understood. I must keep an eye on this in the next few days, as it may mean the clock needs replacing.

After breakfast I did a small amount of hand washing, then spent another futile half hour trying the decode the TZ95 camera manual, with little success. What I think I understand, but must put to the test in the field is that when it beeps a warning to me on half depressing the camera shutter, I can ignore and press harder to take a photo, although it seems to be this is rather slow, unless you activate the fancy mechanism that records a series of images either side of the full shutter depression, for you to choose from on review. This feels messy and confusing to me, having grown used to film cameras before the digital era when you got one shot only at a time, and having decisive sharp shooting wits about you was what delivered.

I prepared lunch, leaving a large piece of frozen hake to thaw out, then went shopping and called in at the filling station near Asda for petrol. As it's pretty warm now, the hake was thawed and ready to cook along with steamed veggies when I returned. Quite pleased with the result.

Later in the afternoon I walked to Torre Calaceite and back. The sea was fairly calm, a few people were out sunbathing, or fishing, but nobody was swimming. As the tide was low, I noticed on one of the sandier beaches a sharp drop of nearly a meter in the level of sand from where people were sunbathing to the level where waves were landing, the sea is sucking away sand which at some other time it threw up on to bedrock to form a beach. I imagine weather conditions play a great part in this. The changes may be far less predictable with the impact of global warming. 

This winter like last has seen several Costa shoreline chirungitos badly damaged due to wave action. Even if it's possible to anchor a building structure to bedrock under deep sand, it's a different matter when the sand is washed away and the rest of the building is de-stabilised. In Mallorca last night there was a tragic incident at the Medusa Beach Club, across the bay from Palma. This building is across the road from the beach, and had just opened a new terrace above the restaurant. It was open for music and dancing, but this collapsed under the weight of people partying killing four and injuring sixteen. Not the sea in this case at fault, but bad building design of another kind.

When I returned from walking, it was time to get all the printing done for this weekend - the pew sheet, my sermon, and the tribute to Linda Hammond to deliver at her memorial service on Sunday afternoon. Then, after a supper of salad and chorizo slices, I did some writing, and read some more of Dai Troubadour, before surrendering to sleep.

Too much sophistication

I didn't wake up quite so early this morning as there were high clouds and haze veiling the brightness of the sun, so the temperature was only 20C today After posting today's YouTube link to Morning Prayer on WhatsApp, I dozed for a while, listening to politicians interviewed on the BBC Today programme and got up slowly. 

The Prime Minister was being interviewed and challenged about the record of his promises to parliament and the electorate. He confidently dished out facts out of context aiming to underplay or avoid admitting his failures like a man in a dream. Or else he was having a go at Keir Starmer for his willingness to change his mind on issues in the light of fresh evidence, which is what you would expect from a top lawyer of any integrity. Thankfully we're spared the bluffing and lies of Boris Johnson for the moment.

I went into town on the ten to twelve bus and visited the Church Shop. John and Julia were behind the counter today. As there was no wind, it was assumed there'd be fewer customers, as more would be drawn to the beaches, but the end of the morning turned out to be quite busy. There was even a group of ex-pats visiting from Benalmadena at one point. I stayed for an hour, then went to the shops for bread and milk on my way back to Parada Monica to get the ten to two bus.

Lunch was portion two of what I cooked yesterday with the addition of some lentils and eaten with rice, it made me dozy enough to need a siesta afterwards and that, despite a long sleep last night. Once refreshed, I continued reading Dai Troubadour, making changes as I went, a process I'm enjoying now I have silence and time without distraction to give it my full attention.

After supper, I walked up the mountain track beyond the houses. On the ridge overlooking the eastern edge of Torrox Costa a skylark was singing just ten metres above me and there was another replying some distance away. My Lumix TZ95 camera stubbornly refused to let me focus on it. It kept bleeping as I pressed the trigger, as if a plain point and shoot photo was too hard for it to do. So I missed the shot.

I think this is the hardest camera to use I've ever had. It's incredibly sophisticated in what it can and does do well, if you understand it, and need all that sophistication. I don't get it, and mourn the damage to my Sony HX90 pop up viewfinder, which led me to leave it at home. Though it still works, I don't know for how long it will continue to work. There's no replacement for it on the market that I know of, and they are sadly a second hand rarity.

I had a genuine email from the bank notifying me of a communication posted on my account, stating in heavy type that I may need to take action. I don't take my log-in details with me when I'm out of the country, and don't use the phone banking app, but this put the wind up me. A word with Clare on the phone and I was able to acquire and use the login details securely. Talk about making a drama out of a routine process! The notification was nothing more than my annual account summary, only needed for tax declaration purposes. I will need to take action when I fill in my return, but I don't need that kind of reminder, implying urgency.

Enough excitement for one day. I'm off to bed now, tired as usual by all this daily hill climbing.

UK's Judgement Day announced.

I woke up early, did another load of washing after breakfast and hung it out to dry. No wind today, and it's just a few degrees warmer and drier. Up to 26C in the afternoon.

I caught the ten to eleven bus into town, visited the church shop for a chat with the volunteers on duty, and caught the quarter to one bus back. The washing was bone dry and ready to use. In the news this lunchtime, the announcement of a UK General election on 4th July, taking some members of the cabinet by surprise, as an October date was the main speculation. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak is betting there'll be a surge of optimism favouring his party, as a result of the latest downturn in the rate of inflation. It seems to me he's out of touch with the grim mood of so many in the country, struggling with the cost of living crisis and with debt or insecure housing, or long NHS waiting lists. Judgement day on the past fourteen years of Tory government is only six weeks away, at last!

I cooked a veggie stew with chorizo for lunch, accompanied by spaghetti again, I fancied it, no family member around to complain about lack of variety, so I can eat what I like. I miss having someone else around. I found myself thinking that Owain was still in the house, as I did with Clare after she left. I guess it takes time for the memory to adjust to solitude.

I spent the afternoon writing my Sunday sermon, then walked to Torre de Macaca, the 17th century watch tower on a promontory overlooking the bay. It's in good condition, but surrounded by trees and bushes. Its architecture replicates the design of others up and down the whole eastern Spanish coast, with its entrance door five metres above ground level for security purposes, accessed by rope ladder. Remnants of wooden stays above the door where a pulley would have been mounted for heavy lifting are still visible. Close to the tower is a substantial early 19th century building, decaying, surrounded by leylandia and a tangle of bushes. It accommodated the land based group guardacostas back in the day.

For supper this evening I made hummus using butter beans mixed with olive oil half a lemon and garlic salt. Although bland with mild flavour, it was tasty despite me forgetting to add a spoonful of tahini. I'll do this next time.

When I chatted with Owain he told me that he returned to his desk this morning to find a message from his new boss to say that she's secured a pay rise for him as he's been covering the work of his immediate supervisor since that person left. It may take a month or so, but it will pull him back from not being able to manage on his present salary, which hasn't changed in two years in any case, due to the slowness of  negotiations to complete a long term pay deal. I think this a scandalous way to treat employees in public service, and am surprised people affect haven't gone on strike. There's a poisonous inefficiency in many areas of government administration which has its source in the ethics of political leadership, or lack of it which has plagued our country for far too long.

On my own again

I woke up before sunrise and was saying Morning Prayer when Owain brought me a fresh cup of coffee. As we were breakfasting and getting ready to leave for the airport, being up early, I noticed that when the sun peeped over the east side of valley, it was further up the immediate horizon twenty minutes after dawn out of sight over the Alboran sea, than I'd seen it before. A reminder of how it moves along the horizon as we move towards midsummer day, a month from now.

We were on our way to the A7 and M20 to Malaga Airport by twenty to eight, a little later than proposed but with enough slack for Owain to be in good time to board his flight. The rush hours traffic was true to form, and I dropped him off at Express Parking at ten to nine. By the time he got through the long security queue and walked the length of the airport, he told me in a message, his flight boarding call was issued, so he didn't have to hang around for long. Eighty minutes to get there, sixty to return, with the rising sun in my face most of the way. Must be sure to leave punctually when I take this flight to Bristol in three weeks from now. While I was cooking lunch, he sent a message to say he was on the bus travelling into Bristol. Now I'm on my own for the next three weeks.

I relaxed for a while after a second breakfast then continued work on making the Morning Prayer video for two weeks, trying to get as much done in advance as I can, so I can enjoy a quiet workless time to myself. After lunch of spaghetti with butter bean and veggie sugo, I prepared the final two Sundays' pew sheets.  Then I wrote a tribute to offer at Linda Hammond's Memorial Service next Sunday. This meant delving into my blog of 2013-14 to tell the story of Linda as church warden and the achievement of acquiring and equipping a new chaplaincy house in the course of three months, under her leadership, with me as locum chaplain. It's a story worth telling for the sake of those who were there, back in the day, and for those who have come on the scene since then. I'm a little nervous about arriving at Saint Andrew's Los Boliches in Fuengirola, as I have to drive there straight after the Eucharist next Sunday. It's an hour and ten minutes. I should be OK but with traffic variables, you never can be really sure.

Having spent much of the day sitting writing, I made an effort to get out and walk down to the Senda Litoral and along the shore as far as Playa Torrecillo in Nerja. I had to decide between going Parada Monica and catching the bus back, or retracing my path. I decided on the latter, and was surprised to find a spring in my step, perhaps due to the extra oxygen taken in with the wind in my face. I was about 100m from Parada Ladera del Mar when the Line 3 bus overtook me. I was back in Church House just after the Archers had started. The time from my ascent of Tamango Hill, with several brief stops was 13 minutes. I wonder if the extra energy I seemed to have was due to that lunch of pasta and beans?

After a light supper, I opened the file of my novel about Dai Troubadour for the first time in exactly two years since my last failed effort to revise thoroughly the completed story. It's been on my to-do list for ages. This could be one thing I need this gift of peace and solitude to have time to enjoy doing.

Surprise visitors

A good eight and a half hours rest was just what I needed to start another sunny day. With a wind from the west promising to get stronger during the day, Owain went off to Playa Vilches after breakfast, but already waves arriving on shore were making it not worth the effort, so he returned to the house and swam in the pool instead. Jorge arrived to clean the pool and I introduced them to each other. 

We drove into town and parked in the usual place, which Owain's friend Jenny calls 'the dust bowl' or tazón de polvo in Spanish. Very suitable for a dusty hollowed out area of waste ground. I took Owain through streets we hadn't visited before, ending up at Biznaga for a tapas lunch. A brief stop at Mercadona on the way back to the car, then when we got back we walked with the rubbish down to the bins, and along the clifftop, really feeling the strength of the westerly wind. Very aerobic exercise!

Early evening, Owain's friends Jen and Ben with their young children Seb and Remi arrived from Nerja to visit us. They have settled here as they can do their jobs on-line, and have chosen to raise their children here in a multi-lingual environment. They arrived by bike! One electric, the other human powered. They are keen cyclists, to say the least. They live in a two bed apartment, so a three storey house with a garden and pool was a wonder for them to explore. Needless to say, they had fun and brought to this house the joyful sound of childrens' voices rarly heard.  Owain and I weren't ready for the challenges of infantile mischief, but somehow we got through to their departure without tears. A delightful surprise.

We cooked supper for ourselves with a white fish called simply 'red fish' with lots of garlic and olive oil. A perfect conclusion to our six days together. And then bed, for an early morning start.

Tale of the flying trunks

Despite getting late to bed, a decent night's sleep, rising late. Owain went for a swim after breakfast while I checked that had everything ready for church, and found that I hadn't printed a large sized font version of the day's Gospel, to make for easier reading, as I've been having trouble with the print in the Gospel book used in church. The printed sheet will fit nicely into the appropriate page, and I can relax when reading. I had to start the ancient chaplaincy laptop and network printer, which seems to take an age when you have a deadline for leaving, to obtain a copy. Then we were ready to go. Just in time. 

I was the first of our congregation to arrive, so I opened the sacristy and store room, to get preparations under way. John's wife Julia arrived with another full bottle of olive oil from their finca orchard in kind response to my request for more when I got to the last 10ml. More culinary pleasure ahead! Several people were away today so we were nineteen for the Eucharist, and half of them were at Bar Atalaya afterwards. Several people took a friendly interest in Owain, as they did with Kath when she was with me.

We had a drink and then drove to Maro to have lunch at the Balcon de Maro restaurant, my third visit with a different family member each time! We both had the dish of the day paella with a mixed salad. It wasn't quite as good as hoped for. Owain compensated by having flan - a sort of egg custard, for postre, then we returned to Church House. He decided to go for a swim in the sea, but couldn't find the swimming trunks he'd left drying on the back of a chair furthest away from the balcony rail. After searching high and low, he spotted them on the next door neighbour's lawn. 

The house isn't lived in at the moment and the swimming pool is empty. There are high walls between each property and a high end wall beyond, 3-4 metres depending on where you stand. How to retrieve them without a ladder? In Church House garden are several three metre poles, one ending with a net, one with a brush, one with a scythe, and one plain, extendible to four metres. This we poked through the netting atop the wall, both standing on the steps down to pool level, taking turns to fish with the pole, with the higher placed one giving navigation directions. 

Neither of us had much faith this would succeed, but working together with as much patience and care as we could muster the trunks were retrieved, after about twenty minutes. After congratulating ourselves, Owain went off for his afternoon swim, happy not to need a shopping trip tomorrow in order to swim again before he leaves on Tuesday. "Next time", he says, "I'll use the draw-string to tie the shorts to the chair when I dry them!" Sadly, the sea was too rough for more than couple of minutes dip.

We had an indulgent supper with dried meats, stuffed olives and mixed salad, accompanied by a bottle of youngish Ribera del Duero Tempranillo rojo. By the time we finished, the sun had set. I went out for a twilight walk up the hill. Around ten I heard again the strange gutteral call of the large tailed nightjar in the vicinity of Alcazar #1, but initially no sign of it. Then I saw it land on the antenna at the top of the roof, and call again. It flew up and circled, only to be joined by a second bird of similar size and shape, judging from their shadowy profile against the twilight sky. So there's a pair of these birds in this area, as there may have been for ages before this wild hillside was infested with seldom occupied human dwellings. Unless our greedy intrusion into their landscape kills them all off, they may well be here long after we have made our species extinct.

I remembered to post this week's Pew sheet on the Chaplaincy website, And then it was time for bed.

At last, a MRI appointment booking

It was slightly warmer overnight and a few degrees warmer all round, comfortably so at 22C and I slept long and well. Late last night, a message from Clare to say that an appointment letter for my MRI scan for the 15th June at 8.00am had arrived! It's such a relief having had no success in raising a response from the bookings department when I was home. A calming contribution to a reason for a better night's sleep!

We had breakfast, Owain went for a swim in the garden pool and took the rubbish down the the bins, while I printed tomorrows pew sheets and sermon. Then we drove to Frigiliana for a walk around, photo opportunities and lunch at 'La Bodeguilla'. Where else? It's the third time with different guests during my stay this time. So consistently good. We shared a mixed salad, patatas a lo pobre and a racion of savoury stewed pork. Owain reckoned it must have taken many hours to cook to such perfection. 

Owain had arranged to meet his friend Jenny and her family at Burriana beach, so after our return, I drove him there. Easier than explaining how to get there with public transport! I called in Aldi's on the way back for wine and fruit, and then had a few hours of evening time to myself, to realign myself to celebrating and preaching tomorrow, after forgetting about work for a few days. And there was the Corpus Christi Prayer video to complete as well.

I called Clare for a chat, then cooked myself some veggies with chickpeas for supper. With time on my hands I looked ahead a couple of weeks at what I needed to prepare for Thursday Morning Prayer. This gave me an idea for a reflection, which I wrote, recorded and edited, before Owain returned late from his outing and supper with Jenny and family. We chatted until late before surrendering to sleep

Cooker sorted

Another lovely day with a slow start, less breezy thank goodness. Owain when down to Playa Vilches for a swim. I had work to finish, and needed to wait in for Mick the electrician to arrive and finish repairing the cooker. He fitted a new switching component for the oven, and found that the erratic performance of the hob was due to a fracture of the cog wheel inside the knob on the front panel, not the rheostat controlling temperature. Fortunately he had a spare one that fitted in his car. It's black not white like the rest, but as it works, this doesn't matter. And it's a reminder of the age of the cooker which may be due for replacement in the not too distant future.

Owain returned from swimming and prepared a light lunch, then we drove to town and parked in the usual place and went for a walk down to Parada Monica and back up to the Balcon for beer and a few tapas at Biznaga. Owain recalled being here with me before when he stayed with me on locum duty. Neither of us can remember so I searched my blog and found that we came to Nerja on the way home from a visit to Granada, and had a tapas lunch in Biznaga on our way back to Malaga where I was on locum duty, June 27th 2017. Amazing how time flies.

On our way back to the car, we called at Mercadona for a few things we needed. Owain was feeling tired and dozed on the sofa for a while. I felt light headed and hungry, so I made a hummus sandwich to eat and then relaxed. Later we walked down the hill to eat at the Mirador de Guilches restaurant. Paz espada for Owain and sardinas for me.  Chips and a spoonful of salad for both of us. We sat at a corner table looking eastward towards Nerja, bathed in evening sunlight, the wind pushing waves inshore to spill foam all over dark rock at the bottom of the 50 metre cliff. Such a lovely place to dine.

We walked back up Tamango hill with the breeze at our backs, somewhat slower than we came down, full of food and tiredness. Then we relaxed and drank wine. For me, the first alcohol of the day. I've got used to asking for 0% cerveza wherever I go while I'm out, as I find now that I function better without it more clear headed and sharp when I'm active, whether driving or walking. I think it's a change in my ageing metabolism that has brought about this change of habit. Nothing to regret about that.

Before turning in for the night, I recorded the Office and Reflection for Corpus Christi in the ground floor room and edited it ready for use with the slide show I have almost finished preparing in quiet moments. Now I should be tired enough to sleep!

I should have had my post-op MRI scan  at UHW this afternoon. I tried phoning on two separate days and emailed the Radiology bookings department postpone twice, but had no acknowledgement, so I don't know if I was taken off the schedule as requested or marked as a defaulter, in which case I'll have to go back to the operating surgeon  restart the process. If this is the case, I shall make a complaint, no matter what excuses hospital admin puts forward.

Mistaken on all counts

Both Owain and I had a refreshing night's sleep we needed, though I seemed to wake up rather frequently. At one point, whether I was dreaming or awake I'm not sure, and it seems I did dream more than usual last night, an unexpected image came into my head of the ticket barrier at Cardiff Airport. It was the one place where I used my Post Office Money Card on my return home, and I'd forgotten about it. Ann had set aside a pound coin, but couldn't find it when we arrived at the barrier. I handed her the card to tap and pay the pound exit charge for less than a ten minute wait. 

Malaga's Express Parking gives ten minutes free in a most convenient place for collecting or dropping off passengers. This is why the puzzling amount appeared in my account, taken out in euros. It was such a relief to know that my card had not been 'skimmed' as I thought it had been.  Owain said that thieves who succeed in bypassing card security will empty an account immediately. I wasn't sure he was right about it, and I worried rather than take action. Sleep provided the answer I needed eventually.

After breakfast, I checked my Money Card PIN code was correct then we went food shopping at Lidl's. To my horror, my Money Card payment was rejected. This was the third time. We paid cash, and assumed it meant the card had been blocked by three failed PIN attempts. Back at Church House with confidence and determination, Owain rang the card helpline, and navigated the responses until it was it was possible to speak to a live human being, a friendly Scot. I was nothing more than a bag of nerves at this point. 

When I'd confirmed my identity, it seemed at first there was no money in the account, but my my laptop screen showed there was. Then the penny dropped. The card number the operator referred to was for my previous card no longer in use, and it was blocked. For no sensible reason I have both cards with me in different compartments of the same secure wallet. The active card hadn't been blocked as it hadn't been used since the car park payment. I had tried to pay with a useless card. What a careless fool I am! Needless to say, the previous card is banished elsewhere now.

We had boquerones with fresh bread and salad for lunch. Then I took Owain to visit his old friends who  have relocate to Nerja and work from home here. They have an apartment in the Edificio Almihara at the edge of the urbanizacion where the Church House used to be situated. The multi storey block looks out over the rio Chillar, whose broad banks 50-60 metres below are lined with smallholdings and orchards down river as far as the newer of the two N340 road bridges. A great place to live, convenient too, as there's a health centre five hundred metres away, sports pitches, and a small stadium, within a few minutes walk, plus nursery, primary and secondary schools within easy walking distance, and the Line 1 bus into the town center. An ideal spot to raise a family. After being introduced to his friend Jenny, I left Owain with, to return by bus, or call me if he needs a lift. 

Not far away there's a large domestic dry goods supermarket called 'China Home'. I visited and bought a set of cheap wooden spoons and a serving spoon, as the kitchen lacks these. Mission accomplished, I returned to Church House, to ponder on the uncertainties of the past few days. Normally I can cope with complex things and work through them but one strategic unchecked error led to a misinterpretation of events, more error and lack of complete control over my affairs. My checking was clearly inadequate. A result of added stress in adjusting myself to the changed environment encountered on this tour of duty? I'm as fit as I can be at my age and have enough stamina to see me through the day. Is it a consequence of ageing I haven't noticed? Or not enough stimulus, or mental tiredness? I don't know yet.

Owain returned from visiting Jenny while I was cooking supper. Perfect timing. Afterwards, I took the rubbish down to the bins, then we walked right uphill until we could see Torrox Costa in the last glow of the setting sun, descending the rough track by the light of a half moon, clear enough to cast a shadow. Beautifully cool calm and quiet. We heard the strange gutteral call of a night bird on the TV antenna of the Alcazaba #1 holiday complex. Then we heard the same call again high up, a kilometer away. Not the same bird I think, but another, calling out for a mate. After investigating on the internet it was possible to identify the sound as a large tailed nightjar. This is a photo I found on YouTube video of its song.

The picture I took as the light faded had the same profile but gave no impression of these colours. The last time I heard a nightjar was when we were staying in the cottage of a friend in a remote part of the New Forest about fifty years ago. It wasn't the same species but had as distinct a call, an unforgettable soft churring sound in the forest darkness. A lovely experience and a fond memory to end a distressing day.

San Isidro arrival for Owain

I got up early to sort out bedding for Owain, and check that his six o'clock flight had taken off. There was a slight delay but it arrived a few minutes early here at nine fortyfive. Long queues at passport control but he got to Malaga bus station just before eleven. He had much frustration getting a ticket for the next bus at eleven, perhaps because very last minute purchases when the bus might in any case be full. Buying one on line didn't work, and not all the ticket machines were working properly, not processing payments. A sign the network was too congested to respond. Eventually, one ticket machine worked, but several buses had gone and he had to wait until midday, and arrived in Nerja at one twenty five. I followed the progress of the flight right through to touchdown on Flight Radar. Very informative and useful. Meanwhile I made a chicken and vegetable stew ready to eat later on.

I drove in to meet Owain at the bus station, parking in the wasteland site by the Mercadona (closed for the fiesta de San Isidro). The streets were busy with people in traditional festive dress, tourists were people watching from cafes along the street. The noisy procession to las Cuevas de Maro was already under way. I wondered how I would get from the car park back in the Torrox direction. The traffic police took control of the roundabout above the bus station, directing vehicles to go the wrong way around it, use the outside  lane alongside the procession, then turn back at the next one. It meant we got a view of some of the floats and Owain took a few photos from the car. Then in twenty minutes we were back at Church House with beer and tapas soon on the table.

Owain relaxed after his stressful journey and snoozed on the sofa, then Mike an expat electrician from Porthmadog in North Wales arrived to fix the cooker. Owain tried out the garden pool, then we walked down to Playa Vilches, where he took a quick dip in a fairly rough sea, with waves whipped up by the wind. Then we walked to the beach in front of the Hotel Marinas de Nerja, and called in the Mesonera de Nerja restaurant for a drink on the way back. For the second time in two days I couldn't just tap and pay for a trivial sum. This added to my suspicion that my card had been hacked.

With Owain's help, we accessed the Money Card account on my laptop, but found that the same amount of money was on it with no new unknown transactions. With his encouragement I check the encrypted file where my passwords are stored and found the PIN I'd used was actually a credit card PIN, not the one for Money Card account. What an idiot! I'll have to do a test purchase tomorrow using the correct PIN to clear the card of two failed attempts. Then tap and pay can be resumed, hopefully. It still doesn't explain why a pound was taken from the card at Cardiff Airport, however. But I'm hoping I can get it to work properly again tomorrow.

The chicken stew dish I prepared earlier in the day I reheated with a few boiled spuds to go with it for supper. We ate on the balcony table as darkness descended, enjoying our time catching up with each other until we were ready to turn in for then night.San Isidro

Deadline missed and regained

Another gloriously hot and sunny day, though for most of it there's been a strong cooling breeze, turning waters off the sea shore white with foam. After breakfast, I wrote a reflection for Morning Prayer a week Thursday and prepared the Office of the Day ready for recording this evening. Jorge called in for his pay and Churchwarden John rang to say the car should be ready to collect by two, before siesta time. I thought the walk to Urbanizacion Noria where the carroceria is situated would take about an hour, and allowed an extra fifteen minutes just in case. 

The wind was strong enough to make walking feel like an effort. At half past one, three quarters of an hour of walking, another call from John announcing a delay. The car would now be ready at five. It was a relief, with the prospect of a twenty minute walk uphill before reaching the last kilometre, I stopped at the nearby Restaurante de la Puente, a popular sprawling roadside eatery beside the old N340 bridge into town, and treated myself to lunch. 

I had sopa de pollo - a clear broth with little chunks of ham in it and plenty of chicken, with a mint leaf to impart an interesting flavour to it. I must try making that recipe some time. The maccherone bolognese to follow was a microwaved from frozen: overcooked pasta uniformly hot, always a giveaway, with a heap of tasteless rubbery cheese on top, definitely not parmigiano. Nothing to commend it. But the bill, with a 0% beer was €20, and the small amount of cheese I couldn't avoid eating didn't give me digestive grief later.

I found a shady spot to sit in the Plaza de la Ermita to while away an hour, then returned to the junction from when I could resume the walk uphill to my destination. I arrived half an hour early, but the car was ready to take away, so I paid Artur the repairer and returned to church house straight away. Just as well there'd been a delay as the actual journey time on foot was an hour and 20 minutes, so I couldn't have arrived before Artur closed for siesta. All's well that ends well, somehow!

Once I recovered from my long walk and had something to eat and drink, I recorded and edited what I prepared this morning, made the video slideshow and uploaded it to YouTube. Another digital chore out of the way, freeing up more time to be with Owain during his week's stay. Then I called Clare for a brief chat.  She's been over to RWCD this afternoon for the graduation piano recital of Ieuan, one of the sons of Kath's school friend Mandy. Amazing talent in a young man we remember being born, we're that old! Definitely in need of an early bed time this evening,

Digital Pickpocket?

I woke up just before dawn to the singing of a solitary blackbird, an exquisite start to the day. I dozed for a while longer before listening to the news, then got up, made breakfast and started a load of washing left in the machine from before my trip home. I wrote for the two hours the wash took to finish. It shouldn't take long to dry on such a bright sunny morning. 

Jorge came by, complaining his key didn't work when he arrived earlier to check the pool condition. He wondered if I'd given him the wrong key, but the pair are the only ones of its kind in the house and I hadn't left one on the inside. It seems the lock needed lubrication, except there are no tools oils or glues in the house for minor DIY fixes. Jorge promised to bring some lubricating oil tomorrow, bless him. A house tool kit is needed here.

I composed my big weekly grocery shopping list and was about to go to Lidl's when churchwarden John called to say the car needed to be taken for its bodywork job - replacing one plastic front bumper panel - today, as there was an opportunity to get this done tomorrow. The carroceria however would be closing at two. Finding the place first time would be difficult, so was I free to do it together now? Yes indeed, since the auto-taller we needed wasn't too far from Lidl's anyway. John had an hour's journey to meet me. We arranged to meet at the CEPSA filling station by the Frigiliana Autovia junction. I drove to Lidl' did a half hour's shopping. Again I wrote a shopping list and left it behind, but remembered two thirds of it correctly. Then I drove to meet him John minutes early, and transferred my purchases to his car.

The place we drove to was one roundabout up from the dual supermarket area where Aldi and Lidl are on the same site. Then down a steep hill about a kilometer and into an area of scrubland scattered with industrial buildings of various sizes and states of repair, dedicated to car maintenance. We stopped at one workshop where John spoke with a young woman who gave him directions to the carroceria. She was the niece of the man enlisted to do the job! It wasn't far from where we stopped, around an obscure corner, easy to miss first time. When I handed over the car key we were told it would be ready by lunchtime tomorrow. It's a walkable distance for me, and I'll rely on photographic navigation memory to get me back there to collect it. Just to be on the safe side, I had a look at Google Street view to remind me of the buildings I'll be looking for!

I was late having lunch. After dealing with a few messages, I took a look at my Post Office Money card account and found a £1 deduction had been made from the card at Cardiff Airport the day I arrived. On arrival I went straight through from the 'plane and passport control to the baggage conveyor belt, and then outside to be collected by Ann. Nothing purchased. All I can conclude is that standing among the crowd was someone using a digital card 'skimmer', as they are called. The Post Office Money card is less secure than a debit card. It's possible I inserted it in a pocket in my card wallet which wasn't in the secure area lined with protective material, along with the other cards. Someone passing close enough with a 'skimmer' would be like a pickpocket - the digital equivalent for sure. 

Then went into Nerja on the ten to six bus which was a quarter of an hour late. No surprising really as the one bus covers Line 3 and Line 1 routes in an hour, and accumulates lost time when there's traffic congestion. I walked up to Mercadona to buy stuff I forgot earlier, and top up my Spanish mobile at the shop where I bought it, next to Mercadona. Then I returned to Parada Monica in time to catch the next bus, but it was still fifteen minutes late, with a grumpy driver who refused to stop as she was exiting the bus platform to admit another passenger who appealed to her to let him on. He looked so angry.

Back at the house, more messages to deal with, a chat with Clare, a light supper, a breath of fresh night air, then sleep.

Ascensiontide Christian Aid Week

I slept surprisingly well, considering how late I got to bed after travelling. Another warm day and a slow start, driving to church with time to sit under a tree in the plaza in front of Iglesia San Miguel. Others had arrive before me, and were already busy setting up for the service. Altogether there were twenty six of us. 

In Bar Atalaya afterwards, I chatted with a couple involved with the 'Friends of Palestine' humanitarian agency, and the Amos Trust, a human rights NGO working in the West Bank. As well as talking about the war on Gaza, we reminisced about our visits to the Holy Land places we'd visited. They're also still active in running the Greenbelt festival, which they've been involved with since its early days in the seventies. All this, plus working abroad for many years. Characteristic of people who spend time in Spain as visitors or settlers with full and interesting lives behind them.

It was gone three by the time I'd cooked and eaten lunch on returning to Church House. Then I listened to Choral Evensong on Radio Four and fell asleep half way, much to my surprise. To stretch my legs, I then walked as far as the bus stop by the Marinas de Nerja. Owain called me and we chatted. The bus arrived and I got on, still chatting, and walked from the penultimate stop to the Plaza del Salvador, still chatting. After finishing the call, I wandered aimlessly for a while, enjoying the crowd and the atmosphere, then ended by taking the next bus back.

A suggestion was posted on the Daily Prayer WhatsApp group to incorporate into this week's offering a devotional extract from the annual Christian Aid prayer leaflet. A bit too spontaneous for those of us who need to plan and record in advance. We're not as good at team work and consulting as we think we are, unfortunately. Anyway, a challenge is a challenge! 

I re-recorded the start of my weekly offering using the material provided for this Thursday, and edited the audio into the track recorded and archived. It meant trimming my own weekly reflection, but making it more concise is fine. The video making file was also stored in the Cloud, so it was a matter of swapping audio files and adjusting the timing of the slides displayed. Simple steps, done methodically, not difficult when there's no deadline. It was gone ten when I uploaded the new version of Thursday's video to YouTube and deleted the original. All I need to do is edit the text to be posted on the day to match the audio. And so to bed.

Travel perfecty timed, by chance

Another bright sunny morning with the temperature similar to the Costa del Sol. Clare cooked a pancake breakfast using buckwheat flour that produces beautifully light delicious pancakes. With only a rucksack  to carry my laptop, one camera instead of three and a few small additional items, packing was easy. After agonising about the right timing of a bus from Malaga to Nerja, I booked a ticket using the ALSA website. Six euros for an hour and a quarter's journey! 

We had an early lunch: mackerel for Clare and a second portion of yesterday's pork chop and veggie stew. Paul arrive at twenty to one to drive me to the airport, with Marlene his nonagenarian mother-in-law in the back seat, coming to see me off, and enjoy the countryside journey to Rhoose. We arrived comfortably, ten minutes before check-in was due to open, not that I needed to check in anything. The airport seemed fairly quiet, less than a dozen flights today it seems. Access to the security clearance area has changed, perhaps something to do with new scanning equipment being installed, but I passed through very quickly, with so little electronica to deposit in the scan tray for once. Within ten minutes I was in the departure lounge with an hour and a half to wait before boarding. 

I whiled away the time extracting the QR code from the pdf of the ticket, turning it into a photo to import into Google Wallet on my phone. Annoyingly Google Wallet will not import barcode or QR images from pdf files. Heaven knows why they couldn't have incorporated this into the Wallet app, I don't know. But Wallet does import and display flight information about delays from another Google monitoring app, so by the time we were ready to board, it was saying the flight was 20 minutes delayed. By this time the 'plane was crossing the Channel and entering UK airspace, and landed at the time it was supposed to leave. The flight seemed to pass quickly enough, what with dozing, and reading chapters of 'Marina' my latest Spanish acquisition. The plane made up ten minutes to land at ten past seven. Sitting near the back it took fifteen minutes to get off the 'plane, but fortunately there was an air bridge to the terminal for the walk through to passport control, where the queue moved quickly. 

Twenty minutes from disembarking to waiting on the airport Cercania 1 metro station, ten minutes to wait for a train, then five past eight I was at the bus station at the far side of estacion Maria Zambrano, and looking for the correct departure bay for Nerja - number 38, in fact. There were two Nerja buses on off, a multiple stop one and a fast one destined for Torrox and then Nerja, and the fast bus was about to leave, and I was three quarters of an hour early! I asked one of the drivers if they'd take me, following Kath's example. The consulted and agreed. One of them changed my ticket with app on his phone to let me to take the fast bus. No charge. Flexi fare is the order of the day! By 10.25 I was back in Nerja, and made the 55 minute walk back to church house as the sun had just set, in the twilight with aromas of night time in the air. I really needed to stretch my legs after so many hours of sitting today. No chance of an early bed with things to do and something to eat when I into the house, but so thankful for a trip made memorable by perfect timing, arriving an hour earlier than I had expecgted to.

Low tide, Penarth

Another bright hot sunny day in Cardiff. Yesterday's 'Thought for the Day' on Radio Four by Angela Tilby gave me a fresh insight about Christ's Ascension, which inspired me to re-write a sermon I had already printed before leaving. By lunchtime I had a new edition ready to print. It's a working day at UHW, the hospital Radiology department booking line was still switched to answering machine when I called. 

After a delicious meal of pork chop stewed with veggies we drove to Penarth for a clifftop walk. The tide was even further out than the last time we were here in February exposing different sand banks in the middle of the estuary, revealing more of the area of bedrock beyond the pebble beach, with red brown sand fringing grey limestone bedrock, combining with ponds to produce unusual abstract forms forms at the waterline. Though the air was clear, with fine high level cloud as a backdrop, the Somerset coastline together with Flatholm and Steepholm were bathed in sun and stood out against the distant haze. 

It reminded me of paintings by JMW Turner. He visited Wales several times in the last decade of the 18th century, and found inspiration in the landscape. He made sketches and a few paintings in the Vale of Glamorgan most notably one in Ewenny Priory, but not the coast as far as I can gather. 

I spotted a couple of very busy brimstone butterflies, too busy to settle on a plant for a photo sadly, also a small white. Clare found it too hot to walk more than two thirds of the clifftop metalled path, so she turned back and waited with a tea in the shade of Cioni's cafe. 

I continued on to the coast path to enjoy the blackthorn blossom with its characteristic pungent scent. Finally the fields are drying out and rich with thick green grass. There's no water from the fields running off in streams down the path and over the cliff now, as it has done since last autumn. After fifteen minutes, I returned to Cioni's to meet Clare and drive her home for another cup of tea.

All is in place for the trip to Cardiff Airport tomorrow. Paul and I exchanged messages this evening. He and his mother in law Marlene will be collecting me at 12.45 for a 13.30 check-in. Good to make the journey with two familiar friendly faces, rather than an unknown taxi driver. 

After supper, I printed off the revised sermon, to save me the bother when I get back to Church House. Then, Clare and I sat in the lounge relaxing together, no telly worth watching this evening. I went out for a sunset walk walk up and down Llandaff Fields to complete my exercise quota for the day. A song thrush was proclaiming loudly its last daylight call from a tall tree in front of the new row of houses on the corner of Cardiff Road. I took my phone out to record it, but as it was the first time I'd used this app since it 'upgraded' it pitched me a half screen advert obscuring the Record button. By the time I got rid of it, the bird had stopped singing for the day. I hate such intrusive and obstructive devices. Little do the marketing fools who propose this kind of sales pitch understand, this is the kind of thing that will deter me from using the app again.

Churchwarden John sent me a message to say the car will be in the garage for a few days in the coming week. Not that it'll bother me, now I'm used to the Line 3 bus and its timetable gaps. Now for an early night, as I'm on the move all day tomorrow.

Appointment frustrations

A beautiful sunny day, as warm here as the Costa del Sol. Up bright and early for the 45 minute walk to Llandaff North for my dentist's appointment. When I arrived, I was told that my appointment was yesterday, and I had to re-book a date for when I return in June. The receptionist was implacable and unsympathetic. 

When I checked with Clare she confirmed that she had requested an appointment for today's date on the 12th April. No email confirming the appointment was received, only an email reminder arriving a week ago. When I re-examined it, the date was 8th not 9th May. When it arrived a week ago, I didn't notice the date state wasn't the date Clare specifically requested. Not that it would have made any difference, as it was a non-reply email, with not enough time to re-book while I'm here, given that it takes a month anyway to get an appointment. There's nothing I can do about this. There's no guarantee that if I complain, this will land on the desk of the person who didn't listen and correctly process Clare's request.

I caught a bus back as far as Llandaff and walked the rest of the way. Then I continued to St John's for the Ascension Day Eucharist. Recently retired former colleague Fr Stephen Adams celebrated with seven of us. The licensed clergy are up in York with Bishop Mary for the annual clergy school. On the way back, I went to the Post Office to use the facility for mail depositing a cheque, rather than waste time going into town. A cheque for £1.80, the balance of a stocks and shares ISA I cashed in last month. It's odd, but this happened on a previous occasion, something to do with minor variations in value of the investment unit in the hours of the day between sale and closure of the market I think. Ironic really, when it costs more than the cheque is worth to process it.

On return I tried to phone the radiology department appointment booking line to re-schedule the post-op scan called for by the operating consultant liver surgeon, but got a recorded message advising callers to send an email instead. This I did, but am not comfortable with being unable to speak to someone, as this appointment is a second re-scheduling due to the inability of the system to book ahead beyond a month. I need to be sure the cancellation of the date I cannot make is actually dealt with as I'm away.  Without an acknowledgement of my email, I'm in limbo. I'll try again tomorrow.

As a result of having to do this we were late eating lunch. Afterwards I worked on preparing pew sheets for two Sunday hence while Clare was out shopping. When she returned, she realised that she'd left one of her shopping bags behind in Beanfreaks, so I went and retrieved it for her. 

The car wouldn't start yesterday, so I gave it an hour' trickle charge to get it going and let the engine idle for a while. We'll see tomorrow if that was enough to start it again. If not, a new battery is called for.

Then I settled down and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening binge watching the remaining episodes of 'Astrid - Murder in Paris' which I missed while away, ending up going to bed later than anticipated, but enjoyable entertainment in any case, and a boost for the spirits after two disappointing bureaucratic experiences in one day. 

Home run for Ascension

There wasn't much point in setting the phone alarm for ten to seven. Both of us were awake before sunrise well before it was time to start the day. There were clouds but also sunshine after the sun emerged from the sea. Jorge the piscinero and Salvador-Jesús the taxista both arrived at half past seven. Jorge came to collect the house key I borrowed from him to give to Clare. We exchanged brief greetings, then I took the bags to the waiting car and forgot to collect a hat and the raincoat I intended to take with me to Cardiff. Still, the half hour after sunrise was enchantingly beautiful as we drove up to the A7.

Despite ten minutes worth of delays we arrived at Málaga airport Express Departures minutes before eight thirty. The check in counters had just opened and in ten minutes we were on our way through security. The new liquids in bags scanning facility is now working, so the throughput time is much improved. As I was depositing all my bits of kit in scanner trays, the lady helping people in the line I joined, noticed my cross and black shirt, and asked what I was. When I told her I was an Anglican priest she laughed and smiled and said jokingly "I could do with some help from God, with all the things that I get up to. Yet I'm always singing!" I told her I was Welsh and that we're all the same. She gave me a hug as I went to pass through the body scanner. That's never happened to me going through airport security before!

On the way to Departures we stopped for a drink and I bought myself another novel by Carlos Ruiz Zafón at the libreria, entitled 'Marina', after one of its main characters. Like many other paperback Spanish novelas, it cost only ten euros. The plane arrived and we boarded efficiently. I couldn't help noticing two teachers shepherding a dozen teenage students on to the aircraft taking selfies as they went, and wondered what they'd be doing during their stay. The plane was parked way out, so the bus transfer trip was longer than usual, and the time taken to taxi to the take-off runway was just as lengthy. The home bound flight time is two and three quarter hours, about twenty five minutes longer than the outbound flight. The average amount of time in the air is much the same unless there's a head wind, so I guess the length of time from departure gate to take-off accounts for it.

I snoozed a while after take-off, then started reading my new book, and got through four chapters before touchdown. The new electronic passport gates at Arrivals seemed to be working efficiently today, despite news of systems failure at other UK airports. Just before out flight landed another arrived from Málaga, and the baggage from it appeared on the conveyor belt as we arrived at baggage reclaim. The heads up display indicated the status of both sets of flight baggage at belt A, and continued to say belt A for our flight when belt B started to move.  I inspected one of the first bags off, and established that it was from our flight, so we waited ten minutes for Clare's bag, and were out of the arrivals hall heading for the pick up point just after half past one. Pretty good, about twenty minutes from 'plane to pick up. Ann found us easily and brought us back home, chatting all the way. Her mother Marlene wanted to come, but was still tired after travelling yesterday.  She'll come with son-in-law Paul to see me off on Saturday, with lots of questions to ask. Retaining such curiosity about life and other people in your nineties is quite something.

There were few birthday cards to open when we got home, plus lots of year end statements that will be of use when I get around to filling in this year's tax return. Clare quickly whipped up a homecoming lunch, from her existing food stock. I went for a short walk on the lush thick carpet of daisy strewn grass in the park. The trees are now in full leaf, with an abundance of chestnut 'candle' blossom. Such a lush contrast to the austere Andalusian coastal landscape with its much darker greens. In the front garden, a pot with a lily in it. Over the winter and into spring it seemed almost dead, but yet again it's sprung back to life and good health, with eleven flowering shoots. Amazing vitality!

Then a visit to Tesco's for a few necessary groceries before supper and the Archers. We're both pretty tired after getting up at the equivalent of five thirty in Spain this morning, so it's very early bed for us tonight.

Dia del Mercadillo, Nerja

A cloudless start to the day, bright and breezy requiring the toldo be wound in after breakfast. I took the ten to eleven bus into Nerja to buy some honey from Competa to take home for a present, and called into the shop for a brief visit before catching the next bus back. I got to Parada Monica with a few minutes to spare and there was a larger bus than usual waiting for passengers - the shuttle for the Tuesday mercadillo which takes place all year round in the recinto next to Urbanizacion Almihara, where the Chaplain's house used to be located. 

I remembered how easy and convenient it was for us to do food shopping there and buy occasional special things: herbs and spices, cured meats and fish, and every kind of olive in bulk, at excellent prices. I could have bought local honey there, but it would have meant an extended stay in town. The shuttle left at the time the Line 3 bus was scheduled, earlier than some visitors expected, so they were wondering when the Line 1 bus, which takes you close to Urbanizacion Almihara would come, the next best thing. It's a walk of a couple of kilometres from Monica, much of it uphill.  The Line 3 bus was fifteen minutes late, not surprisingly as the roads are so much busier when the mercadillo is on.

After lunch, packing and preparations for our early departure tomorrow morning took up the afternoon, but we did go down to the sea using a footpath from the clifftop down to the secluded end of Playa Vilches for a walk along the shore, and a tea in the restaurant at the other end, before climbing the hill again, to finish the evening quietly. I started a new novel by Umberto Eco, translated into Spanish, which I found in the church shop. I gave up reading after a couple of dozen pages of detailed description of the setting in obscure vocabulary. The character telling the story seemed to me most unsympathetic, loaded with anti-semitic and racist stereotyping language that I found most unedifying. Whatever the purpose of this is, I can do without it. Let's see what I can find at the airport tomorrow.

With great effort we both headed to bed by ten thirty, but I took me a long time to settle, checking and rechecking things I need to take with me and leave behind. I've only got an under-seat bag loaded with my cameras and computer, leads etc. It looks bulky, but actually is the compliant size. Travel nerves with an early start in the morning, an airport taxi booked for seven thirty.

In the return trip I chatted with a man from the west of Ireland. We were the only passengers heading out of town. As I reached the bottom of Tamango Hill, churchwarden John appeared, driving the church car, and waved as he turned towards Torrox. He's taking it to a bodyshop to get an offside front bumper scrape fixed while I'm away.  

Berejenas is off, luv

A sunny day with clouds and occasional gusts of wind from the west. After breakfast we drove to Torrox Pueblo to look around the old town. We parked up at the top end of town, and found ourselves not where we thought we would find easy access. Clare found walking through back streets rather nerve wracking, not know where we'd end up so we turned around and walked back to the car park. On the way back, I realised that the last time I was here I used the car park at the bottom end of town, rear the police station, with a quick steep uphill walk to the Casco Antiguo. But we did get to visit the Ermita de la Madonna de last Nieves on the journey. standing on a promontory that overlooked the lower reaches of the rio Torrox valley and the A7 motorway. 

Then we made our way down to the A7 and drove two junctions to Maro, to have lunch at the village cafe/restaurant. Open unlike others on a Monday, a seven day a week family run business, with a jefa supervising a dozen tables both sides of the street, issuing complex orders in a loud theatrical voice to the cocinero. An entertaining performance! Another splendid lunch, as when Kath was with me, except that berenjenas con cana de miel was off the menu, as their skins late in the season are too leathery to pass through the chipper before frying. Kath and I got lucky as the chef here has his own way of presenting this traditional Andalusian dish.

We did a grocery stock up at the Mercadona on the east side of Nerja on the way back, so the cupboard is full when I return from Wales. Before going out for a walk, while Clare was snoozing, I read the last twenty pages of Vargas Llosa'a Travesuras de una niña Mala. I discovered that the book has been made into a ten episode series for Mexican TV. I wonder if 'Walter Presents' will pick it up eventually? The story ends with a reconciliation of sorts between protagonist and antagonist, before the death from cancer of la niña Mala. Such a messy plot with so many twists and turns, and yet a neat ending, slightly suspect, to my mind, but an enjoyable read nevertheless. Now where did I put those other two Spanish books I picked up from the church shop?

Then we walked with the rubbish down to the bins, I inspected the post box and then walked the senda litoral for half an hour before climbing back up the hill. After supper, I wrote a reflection for two Thursdays hence, then recorded it, plus the Office of the day, and printed off my double boarding pass. Jobs done, time for bed.

Sunday frustration

A warm sunny day but with high cloud in fascinating slow changing formations during the day. We drove to Iglesia San Miguel after a long slow breakfast, and arrived early to help set up for the service, not that much help is needed as the team are efficient at getting everything ready in the twenty minutes before the service is due to start at noon. There were twenty six of us today, and some hearty singing, but by the time we got to Bar Atalaya after the service, the regulars had gone, leaving a family of four from North Wales that regularly comes and goes during the year.

When we returned to Church House, Clare didn't feel like eating much as she was feeling nauseous, so I cooked half an aubergine with some onions, courgette and potatoes for myself. Finally this morning I acquired boarding passes this week's ida y vuelta home and back. Annoyingly Vueling's system wouldn't let me acquire the first pass alone on Thursday. I had to wait until today, to receive both passes in a two page email.  Why issue the passes jointly and not separately? 

Adding a digital version to Google Wallet as stated, produced a QR code of the first pass only and ignored the second. I had to edit the original pdf, and extract the bar code into a jpeg image, to get Wallet to add the second boarding pass - in the form of a bar code, not converted to a QR code. Not that it matters, both work with airport scanners. What a frustrating waste of two hours time this was. The rush to innovate digitally on so many levels isn't going early as well as its authors believe it is. 

We went for a walk up the hill, and then down to the sea early evening, intending to dine out, but the Mirador de Guilches restaurant was again closed, and when we reached the restaurant by the Playa de Vilches, we were told the kitchen was closed. No more meals, alas! 

We trekked back up the hill, and I improvised a dish using the other half of the aubergine plus an onion, with an 'emergency' can of lentils cooked with a tiny amount of veg for flavour. Accompanied by some judia redonda (aka French Beans) and carrots, it turned out to be quite flavoursome much to my relief. It was such a disappointment not to be about to dine out in view of the sea and setting sun. the Mirador restaurant is usually open on a Sunday, but last week and this it's been closed Sunday to Tuesday. Here it's still low season, with insufficient passing trade to justify staying open.

I spent the rest of the evening reading the seemingly anomalous last chapter of my Spanish novel that starts in an unexpected situation, but turns around half way and yet again confronts the reader with the subject of the novel 'La nina mal' - the bad girl, up to no good again, a charming attractive woman from the impoverished Peruvian barrio of Miraflores in Lima, who knows how to exploit the vulnerability of rich men and her forty year long relationship with the narrator, a school friend who also flees the barrio to Europe, through education and hard work. A remarkable portrayal of different ways in which poverty affects people's lives and destinies, making one person generous and compassionate, and another greedy ruthless and deceitful. It's still slow going due to the register of the narrative language and liberal use of Latin American words and slang, but the essence of the story, its humour and sadness shine through in any case.

Mystery of Monica

Another bright sunny day. No wind, and the air temperature rising to a balmy 22C. After breakfast on the balcony, I set about printing off this Sunday's pew sheets and next week's, to take to church tomorrow. It took me a while to piece together how I did this routine job last week, as print dialogues in MS Word and Open Office in relation to the sophisticated in house Rico photocopier cum printer are very complex and not user friendly when it comes to printing an A5 leaflet. 

The key element is to make a pdf of the finished document file. Then you have to choose between Adobe Acrobat, MS Edge, Firefox and Google Chrome embedded pdf reading software, to find a print dialogue. By trial and error I found that opting for Chrome browser pdf produces the simple print dialogue needed, making it easy to memorise. I found it out last week but forgot to write it down, which was disconcerting until I  eventually recalled how I'd done it. Now it's all written down, for next time.

Jobs done, I went into town on the bus to have a chat with the church shop workers on duty, then found the whereabouts of a cavernous Chinese dry goods supermarket, where I was able to buy a measuring jug for Clare and a couple of spare wine glasses. Then a walk up to Carrefour for tissues and kitchen roll, which initially I failed to find, as I hadn't realised that the supermarket is on two floors over a basement car park. Then I returned to the Parada Monica bus stop for the Line 3 return trip. Clare had just finished cooking lunch when I arrived. Perfect timing.

There's an old man who lives in what I suppose was once the gatehouse of the entrance to La Marinas de Nerja Hotel. It's now a poor hovel of the building. Why he should have to live there I can't imagine. He got on the bus which stopped outside the Carrefour at a parada I thought had been suppressed by the local police. He struggled to mount the steps manage his shopping trolley, and dropped a euro when he was paying for his fare. He grunted with exasperation, being unable to bend down and pick up the coin while fighting with his trolley. I got up to let him sit in the empty seat space where he could gain control of his trolled and moved to another seat by the front door of the bus. I spotted the euro, picked it up and gave it to him without saying anything. It left me thinking how easily I could be in a similar position to him, fighting to retain bodily control because of injury or arthritic limbs. I suspect his working life has been much harder physically speaking than mine.

Out of curiosity later, I looked at Google Maps to see what it told me about Parada Monica. I discovered that the Monica in question refers to the large Riu Monica Hotel a hundred yards from the bus stop. This explains a complaint overheard at the bus stop one day from a couple who had waited for the Line 3 bus on the hotel forecourt, and missed it, because they trusted they were in the right place. Until I googled it I didn't know the hotel's full name, On its fancy skyscraper exterior are just three large letters 'RIU'. The bus stop's sign simply says 'Monica'. A combination of arrogant pretension and presumption on the part of the town council for tolerating this user unfriendly piece of information in the public realm. Who was this Monica anyway?

Late afternoon we went for a walk up the hill. I saw a cricket on the ground and got a photo of it, but the insect doesn't stand out in the picture, as it's almost the same colour as the earth on which it stands. I also noticed in the huge empty shell of the huge construction side that towers above our row of houses, a fully furnished apartment has been established, and took a photo. I imagine it serves as a 'show house' to encourage potential clients to envisage the future of the complex when it's completed. On the back back down, a small brown bird with a red beak, on the kind that's typical of seed eaters paused briefly on the ground in front of me. Too quick for a photo. When I enquired of an ornithological website later, I learned from the photo on the site that it was a Trumpeter Finch, a bird I've never heard of before. The habitat is right, high up on a rocky coastline, but apparently it's found in a limited number of locations, so it was a lucky encounter. Next time I'm in that vicinity I'll have my camera at the ready.

After supper I spent the rest of the evening reading my Spanish novel. Nearly at the end now. After a fairly conclusive penultimate chapter, a final chapter which seems like another story with a different set of characters a different context but the same protagonist. Too tired to read another fifty pages. Time for bed.

Fiesta de la 'Cruz de Flor' plus Sabor de Malaga

For once, getting earlier to bed proved beneficial. We got up at UK time, not needing to be up earlier, and listened to Thought for the Day on Radio Four while getting breakfast ready. We walked down to the bus stop at Ladera del Mar for the ten to eleven Line 3, and went straight to the Church Shop. Gill and Mike were on duty today. I could tell on arrival as the window display had changed yet again, with a fresh array of attractive colourful clothes. 

Gill is also the organist, and I was pleased to touch base with her to get her correct contact details, as those in the church phone seemed not to be correct. Mike was also able to email me her planned list of hymns for the next six weeks. As I'm preparing the weekly pew sheet until the end of my stay, it's good to have all the info in advance.

Clare wanted to swim at Playa Calahonda next to the Balcon de Europe, so we took our leave, and made our way to the beach. All along the Balcon today is a double row of tent sheltering stalls that promote all the best variety of food products from Malaga Province. Cheese, bread, wine, liqueurs, different kinds of sausage etc under the banner 'Sabor de Malaga'. This event runs from today until Sunday, concurrent with the 'Fiesta de la Cruz de Flor'. 

In the Plaza del Salvador stands a large cross in an enclosure with symbols of Christ's lordship over all creation, decorated with flowers. This evening there will be a ceremony of blessing conducted by the Parish Priest. In different barrios around the town other flowery crosses will be set up by local parish and community groups. There's even a Cruz de Flor set up next to the side door on the north side of the church, by a cancer fund raising charity. Some restaurants and public buildings have their own al well. It's an occasion I recall from being here in May previously, both in Nerja and Malaga.

Clare's swim was very brief as she found the water much colder than her previous dip, so we returned to the Plaza del Salvador and had a tapas lunch again at Biznaga. The food is good and it's a great place to sit and watch the world go by. Doing this meant we missed the last Line 3 bus to leave town before the afternoon siesta break, so we had three hours to kill. Shopping for gifts soon loses its appeal. We sat for a while in the shade of a canopy outside a leather goods shop and Clare dozed off. Eventually we went back to Biznaga and had a drink, then went to the bus stop, where I knew we'd find benches and a few spots of shade. I needed to buy some chicken, wine and San Miguel Cero beer, so went up to the nearest big supermarket and back while Clare waited in the shade.

The four forty five bus arrived early, and left on time. I wonder if this same bus does the Line 1 service when it's not shuttling to and from Ladera del Mar to Parada Monica? When we got back to the house, Clare had another swim, and I started working on the pew sheets for this week and next, since I'm going to be away in Wales from Wednesday to Saturday next week. Clare only wanted salad for supper so I cooked myself a sauce to eat with spaghetti, and after supper spent the rest of the evening completing the pew sheet files. A fiddly task, as there's so much variable detail contained within each week. A least I now have all the info I need on the chaplaincy computer desktop. And so to bed.