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.
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