All reunited after a decade

Another overcast morning. I got up early and went to the Eucharist at St John's to be home early enough to enjoy the end of a family Sunday breakfast. We were about three dozen adults and nine children, a healthy improvement in numbers since I was last there taking a service. 

Jasmine was expected to arrive mid-morning, but had to take a later train, after midday. How wonderful to have the two grandchildren and three children with us, for long enough to celebrate Owain's birthday with a special Rachel baked chocolate cake with fresh cherries. Sadly Kath and Rhiannon needed to travel back to Kenilworth late afternoon as both have to work tomorrow, but we had a few hours of family time with children and grandchildren all together for the first time since our joint 70th birthday ten years go. Here's a photo of us all together in Clare's garden.

We walked around Pontcanna Fields after lunch. After supper, Owain, Jasmine and I talked photography around the kitchen table. Jas showed us pictures of her end of year school photography project. Impressive artistic pictures of orchids, way beyond my capability, that's for sure. Then another walk around Llandaff Fields as the sun set, but this time without Rachel who went out to see an old friend. She was back again by the time we returned from our sunset walk. Gone are the days when she'd stay our until the small hours with friends she hadn't met for years. We all need our sleep as we get older.

Penarth family outing

A cool and cloudy morning to start with, but the sky cleared and the temperature went up. Clare was first up cooking Saturday pancakes, then myself, and then Owain, Kath, Rhiannon and Rachel in that order, all waking up slowly, needing a shower, and then breakfast. By midday we were ready to drive to Penarth, as Owain requested for a birthday treat. Everyone apart from Clare and I live a long way from the sea, so it was a a universally popular request. The tide was in and starting to go out, which made it possible to have a paddle later in the afternoon.

It didn't seem particularly busy or crowded, but we had to park further from the promenade than usual and walk down to the pier for something to eat, and later go on the beach. There's a very nice friendly cafe on the pier, catering for all dietary needs, and this was much appreciated. Rhiannon then fancied some chips, delivered nowadays in a posh cardboard box with a logo and Fish and Chips written on the side. Perfect for one of the foodie selfies for those who like such things. 

On the slow return journey we dropped Owain off in Canton to get the bus into town, as he wanted to visit M&S to buy swimming trunks and socks, not to mention more wine. He wanted to buy a new swimming costume when we were together in Nerja, but there was no opportunity for that kind of shopping in the few days we had together. M&S is his go-to store anyway, so all is well.

When we got back, Rhiannon went for a run - she's training to run a half marathon in the autumn in memory of a friend who committed suicide, and asks for sponsors to support a youth suicide charity. The rest of us went for a walk in Pontcanna fields for an hour, until it was time to order takeaway pizza for supper, for everyone but Rachel, whose gluten and dairy free diet require her to devise her an alternative. Fortunately this isn't problem with the stock of fresh food kept in our fridge. More of a problem was managing six large cardboard pizza boxes around the dining table, as there was no room for them, so the top of the piano, the clavichord and the sideboard had to be used instead. Later I went for another shorter walk in Llandaff Fields with Rachel before settling down for the night. She loves to be out enjoying the green fields as much as she can when she's here. It's what she misses more living in Arizona.

Family get together

Another cool and cloudy start to the day, but the chill wind blew much of the cloud away in the afternoon to give us pleasant evening sunshine. I went to St John's at eleven to join the congregation gather for the funeral of Gill Winton, a lifelong church member. There were about a hundred and fifty present, including three parish clergy. Revd Siân, newly ordained deacon joined Fr Andrew on the altar together with Fr Siôn who officiated bilingually. I didn't stay around afterwards to chat, but returned home in time for lunch.

Afterwards Rachel and I went for a walk in the park, and ended up going to the big Tesco's on Western Avenue, to buy a printer cartridge for Clare, and a few other things on the shopping list. When we reached the aisle where the printer cartridges are to be found, I had doubts that I'd remembered the cartridge serial number correctly, then realised that I'd walked out without my phone. Rachel didn't have her phone on her, as her American SIM is too costly to use in the UK so she relies just on wi-fi at home. She walked into the phone shop and asked the assistant if she could borrow a phone to call Clare and check the cartridge serial number, which the assistant did, lending her own mobile phone. How kind!

When we returned Rachel got to work baking a birthday cake for Owain, ready for his arrival this evening while Clare cooked a huge pan of pasta sauce. The kitchen was a hive of industry so I made myself scarce. Owain arrived just after seven, Kath and Rhiannon just before eight. With a meal ready to welcome them we spent the rest of the evening eating, drinking wine, laughing and telling each other stories. A joyous reunion. All we need now is Jasmine, who joins us on Sunday.

Sale bargain gift

Cooler today with cloud coming and going. I uploaded this week's YouTube Link to Morning Prayer on WhatsApp, just before 'Thought for the Day', then got up and prepared breakfast. 

I went to St John's to celebrate the Eucharist after breakfast and did the weekly food bank shop on my way there. There was a queue for the human checkout, so I braved the hated robot version which seems to have done away with admonitions from the synthetic voice, unless I was lucky enough to comply with its protocol. This week I bought cleaning products instead of food, as these too are needed for recipients who can't afford to buy them. One of these produced a till alert, I didn't notice which one, but it brought a staff member to confirm I was old enough to make the purchase. As happens with alcohol sales. This is new to me. I imagine human assistants working on the robot tills get run off their feet when most of the tills are occupied. Is this really any more efficient than deploying real human beings at the checkout?

There were seven of us for the Eucharist, which was preceded and followed by a fuss over the flower arrangers' stock of oasis, which couldn't be located. Cupboards were searched, phone calls were made that were't answered. The mystery was solved while we were have coffee and a chat afterwards. It seems the remaining stock of oasis was in a box that had been pushed to the back of the relevant cupboard, out of sight. Tomorrow is the funeral of Gill Winton a long standing church and Mothers Union member who died last month. Decorating the church in her honour was naturally an essential, but last minute undertaking. A crisis distracting the congregation from worship was over. I just had to go with the flow. 

When I got home Clare and Rachel were just about to go to town. In their absence I got to work on baking a batch of bread ready for the arrival of the rest of the family this weekend to celebrate Owain's birthday. He called while I was kneading to report he'd not been offered a more senior job in the department, which he'd  been interviewed for. It wasn't a surprise. He thought he lacked certain experience, although he's currently covering the vacancy in question. At least he is being recompensed for the additional temporary responsibility. Fair enough in a job where he is seriously underpaid due to agreed pay deals not being signed off by the Treasury because of the General Election.

When the girls returned, I took the 61 bus into town to visit John Lewis' summer sale in search of Owain's birthday present. I learned some time ago that he'd like to have a Chromebook with a large sized screen to serve as an internet TV fitting in a discreet space in his lounge. I got lucky and found a suitable bargain with a 15" screen, about the size of a small telly and much less obtrusive.

Rachel cooked seabass fillets for supper,  with spring cabbage, corn on the cob, and braised carrots. A tasty combination. This last week I've been suffering from stiff shoulders and neck, and she gave me a therapeutic massage after supper. A double treat. I have a clear head again for the first time in days. I finished the day with a quarter of an hour's walk in the cool fresh air, as the street lights came on. And so to bed.

Stiff fingers

A hotter start to the day with the temperature going up to 27C, though the started to cloud over during the afternoon, as the temperature dropped a little. After breakfast I went to St Catherine's to celebrate the Eucharist with six others, and after chatting over coffee afterwards, I collected this week's veg bag from Chapter on my way home. By the time I got back, Rachel had surfaced and gone shopping with Clare. We had a light lunch when they returned, and then what seems like the inevitability of an hour's siesta.

Then I walked in Thompson's Park for an hour. There's a muscovy duck visiting the pond at the moment, and it's not much appreciated by the mallard residents, being that much bigger. I saw a moorhen too, having only heard one on my last visit.

I helped Rachel cook curried veg and chick peas for supper, and we shared cooking tips while we chatted. After we'd eaten I went out again for a short walk to complete my daily quota, then she got out her grandpa's 'cello (which lives with us) and played it, then persuaded Clare and I to join her in making music, Clare with flute and piano, me with guitar. I seldom play these days as my hands are often stiff and rheumaticky, but made the effort, and was rewarded with a hand massage with arnica cream afterwards. Then tired but happy we all went off in search of a night's sleep.

Happy homecoming

A gloriously hot and sunny day, 24C. At last a day worthy of late June. After breakfast, I recorded and edited next week's election day Morning Prayer, then made the video slide show and uploaded it to YouTube, all before lunch. I had the other half of the chicken and chorizo dish cooked yesterday. Through the morning, I followed the progress of Rachel's homebound flight on Flight Aware and Skyscanner websites, until it landed just after one thirty. Thankfully it was on time, give or take five minutes.

As it's bin day I got to work on shredding another box file of ancient documents for recycling. A mixture of thirty year old old gas and electricity bills, and a collection of assorted documents from the beginning of my appointment and induction as Rector of St Agnes and St Simon with St Werburgh. A fascinating trip down memory lane with the responses from people invited to the induction. What struck me in shredding was how much thicker the paper used was fifty years ago, judged by the difficulty in shredding more than a couple of sheets at a time. The shredded content of one box file filled one large recycling bag. Clearing my office of old archived documents is going to take quite a long time.

I came across an exchange of letters arising from difficulties in relationships with the Methodist church and the three Anglican Parish churches, making up the Ecumenical Area of Experiment, as it was known. Despite my best efforts, the team ministry didn't work as intended. This was a cause of disquiet as it affected relationships between congregations. The heart of the matter was conflict between individual clerics with big egos, used to having their own way, unsuited to professional partnership working. As team Rector I took responsibility for this. There was nothing I could do about the decisions of authorities over me who thought they were good for working in the area. It's a situation I was at a loss to deal with. As if life wasn't difficult enough in the wake of the St Paul's riots. Anyway, what's past is past, duly consigned to the bin of church history.

Then, a walk around the park, and trip to Beanfreaks for extra groceries while waiting for Rachel to arrive. M4 traffic was slow so it was half past six by the time she arrived with her old friend Dom, who offered to pick her up and bring her to Cardiff. It was good to see Dom again after about thirty years. He offered to bring Rachel to Cardiff so the two of them could catch up with each other. It's not been so long for them as they've kept in touch on-line over the years. 

Clare cooked fish pie and we ate supper in the garden under a mackerel evening sky. Dom took his leave of us and then we made an effort to get to bed early to allow Rachel to catch up on her sleep loss after a night in the air, flying into the sunrise.

My vote cast

Other parts of the country are experiencing a heat wave, but Cardiff is still under cloud and mild for the last week in June. After breakfast, housework chores, then making a video slide show for next Thursday's  Morning Prayer, and uploading it to YouTube ready for posting the link on the day. I cooked chicken with chorizo for lunch, while Clare had mackerel fillets. She cooked the pac choi which came in last week's veg bag with an onion to try and impart some flavour to it. I think it might do better raw with a salad dressing. It has texture but no discernible flavour to speak of.

I slept for an hour again after lunch, then filled in my General Election post vote ballot paper and posted it when went out for a walk.  This time my circuit took me past the big Tesco's on Western Avenue, so I went in to use the toilet and browse for any small useful bargain, I could identify. I was fortunate to notice a tiny 64GB flash drive which has both a USB-C and USB-B interface, a real asset as my Chromebook only has USB-C ports, and likewise my phone. The will make for quick and convenient data transfer without needing to carry a supplementary adaptor, as I have for several years past.

This evening Rachel is taking an overnight flight to London, arriving Heathrow mid morning, so she should be here for a late lunch. Her old friend Dominic is meeting her, driving her to Cardiff and staying for lunch. I think it's about a quarter of a century since we last met him!

After supper, I started thinking about preparing another Morning Prayer for a week Thursday as this week promises to be busy with all the family gathering for Owain's birthday. In an hour and a half I'd written a recorded a reflection to go with texts for the day, glad to be one step ahead. Then I decided to reset my Chromebook to see if it would run a bit faster by removing a couple of redundant extra user accounts. It's ages since I last needed to do this, and it took a bit longer to restore the existing set up, as I have three other accounts in use of my own, and each one has to be established through the usual security regimen. Tiresome and time consuming when I'm ready to get to bed.

Summer Sunday under cloud

A cloudy day, mild rather than how. A much needed long sleep, then off to St Catherine's for the Eucharist after breakfast. Clare, still feeling poorly stayed home again. Fr Rhys presided, to enable Fr Sion to spend time with the Sunday School until they came into church together at Communion time. A congregation of about forty adults and about twenty children, quite a number of whom were under five. The Communion anthem was unusual, in that the choir was accompanied not only by the organ but a bassonist. A twentieth century anthem by someone I'd never heard of. It was a delightful innovation. 

I chatted with Rhys after the service, the first opportunity I've had since he retired from his day job as a GP. He's been a voluntary priest like me, since he was ordained. He told me that he's going for an eight day retreat at St Beuno's tomorrow, in an endeavour to discern what his vocational path should be hereafter.

After lunch another hour asleep in the chair. I don't know where all the tiredness comes from. Then a walk which took me down the woodland path on the west bank of the Taff down to Blackweir Bridge. It's on the verge of being overgrown with such luxuriant vegetation after months of rain. It's the first time this year to walk that way, as it remained unpleasantly muddy. Even now after a month of dry weather, there are still mud hollows in the path which haven't dried out. The same too in several parts of the park grassland where hollows have developed at places where the wheels of vehicles turning or parking on the grass excavate hollows, which are never filled in as part of grassland maintenance.

As I arrived at Blackweir, the familiar sight of four horses with buggies attached belonging to Cardiff's Traveller community were departing, after their excursion from the other side of town. Apart from cricket matches, few people were out picnicking, perhaps the dullness of the day being a deterrent. There was a county cricket match going on in the SWALEC stadium, poorly attended, to just by what I could see of the ground through gaps along the fence.

I whiled away the rest of the day watching the final few episodes of 'Hierro' series one. A well constructed plot with an exciting conclusion. There's a series two to watch when I get around to it. 

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Despite going to bed early and not getting up until nine, I slept badly. Strange, given that I've slept well and been comfortable on that bed on every other occasion I slept in it before. When I tried to buy a coach ticket on-line, I couldn't get the website to give coach times for the rest of the day. I installed the National Express booking app and had more problems, as it refused to validate my discount coach card number. I couldn't figure out what the problem was, or what the actual status of the coach service to Cardiff was, so I left early and took the train to Victoria and went straight to the booking hall. 

This is not well signed until you get close to the area where it's located. I'm sure the booking desks used to be in the main entrance lobby, but the (empty) desks you see there now are just for enquiries. There seemed to be crowds of people milling around near the booking hall area, but it turned out they were parties of people awaiting directions to their coach. There was no queue and I was seen immediately by one of the duty ticket clerks. I explained the problem I had with my coach card, and he looked up its serial number on his database. It turned out that the expiry date on the card had been hand written incorrectly, when I bought it at the time I booked to travel to Bristol for my flight to Spain. He corrected the card for me as part of buying my ticket, and booked me on the next departing coach at twelve thirty. I only had twenty minutes to wait, and bought an americano and a pain au raisin for the journey.

The coach was about half full. It took more than an hour to reach the Heathrow turning, there was so much traffic leaving London as well as entering. Apparently there's a Taylor Swift concert at Wembley Stadium, which would doubtless add to the volume of traffic. Sections of the M4 are subject to slow downs and queues due to roadworks, but despite this, we arrived at Sophia Gardens at twenty past four, on time. For about half the journey I read more chapters of 'Marina', as I did on the outward journey. Time seems to fly by when you have to stop and look up occasional words in order to make sense of a passage. I do enjoy it anyhow. As we were coming into Cardiff, Clare rang me as she was out walking, and came to meet me in Pontcanna Fields on the way from the bus station.

I was grateful for a late cooked lunch at nearly tea time, and to catch up with Clare and others by phone. The sun was starting to set by the time I went out for some exercise to compensate for four hours sitting in a coach. The sky above the western horizon was tinted pale orange due to haze rather than cloud. A lovely sight with which to end the day.

A long longest day

After a restless night and early breakfast, I walked to Canton's Iceland store to buy some Welsh Cakes to take to my sister. Three packs, all of different colour, and it turned out that each pack had a variation n the traditional plain curranty version. How odd? Next time I will be forced to read what it says on the label.

Once I packed my travel rucksack, I walked to the bus station to book a ticket, having had problems booking on line. I only had a fifteen minute wait for the next coach, and arrived at Victoria coach station in good time for a train to Wandsworth Common and arrived at three. Having promised to visit June as soon as I could on return from Spain, and being unsure when I would be able to travel, it was a last minute decision and a surprise visit. I didn't arrive at the best time, as she was absorbed by a gripping tennis match on telly.

Apart from catching up on all that has happened since Easter, and reminiscing about life in our youthful days, I did some grocery shopping, and sorted a few problems to do with sending photos and banished Microsoft Copilot from her desktop, a pre-emptive strike against confusing and unhelpful interference in one's normal train of thought when performing routine computer tasks. Hopefully this will save future distress, as I know this gizmo like all the other pop ups that ruin the Windows user interface is destined to cause grief to an older user. If you know your own mind and what you want to do, distractions you don't need.

By eleven o'clock I was tired and took myself off to bed, leaving my sister watching the telly.

Usual chores

Another gloriously sunny day with clear sky. I woke up at half past seven and post the YouTube link for today's Morning Prayer. After breakfast I went Tesco's for this week's food bank offering and then to Saint John's to celebrate the Eucharist with five others, standing in for Fr Sion. After coffee I returned home and went to collect my medication from the pharmacy, before cooking lunch. Sea bass for Clare and lamb chops for me. Once more I needed a siesta and slept for an hour before doing the Beanfreaks' shopping, as Clare wasn't feeling well enough to make the effort. 

Then I walked to Llandaff to drop off the keys Fr Sion loaned me in case I needed to open up the church. When I got back I recorded and edited next week's Morning Prayer, and after supper continued watching more of the Spanish crimmie Hierro. The story has certainly got my attention, because I can follow the dialogue at least as well as I can follow a French movie, as I keep on saying. And then bed.

Back to the usual routine

A return to a bright clear sky this morning. I walked on the beach to collect a few shells before breakfast. We packed and loaded the car after we'd eaten, then headed back to Cardiff, getting home about half past eleven. Clare cooked lunch while I went to retrieve this week's veggie bag. After lunch I went to the GP surgery to collect my three monthly prescription, only to find it had already been sent to the pharmacists across the road. Being a Wednesday, the pharmacy was closed in the afternoon, so it was a wasted journey. I needed a few things from the shops and there was this week's Coop groceries to buy. Eventually I got around to unpacking my case.

After supper, I prepared next week's Morning Prayer and Reflection ready for recording. Then I started to watch a new Spanish crimmie called 'Hierro' set in the remote second smallest of the Canary Islands. It's reminiscent of 'Shetland', except that bananas and other fruit are the cash generator rather than undersea oil. Law enforcement is in the hands of the Guardia Civil presided over by a lone judge who has her work cut out ensuring justice is genuinely done. Interesting, and very different from the a crimmie set in a more populous and sophisticated holiday island.

Officially settled

A change in the weather overnight. A cold wind from the north east blew cloud back into the bay where it stayed for the rest of the morning. After breakfast, I walked up to the hide with different cameras to see if I could get some better photos of the swallows' nest and the parents' comings and goings. I've counted three chicks in the nest, confirmed by photos. Occasionally both mother and father birds perch by the side of the nest, but it's not been possible to get good quality pictures, as the low light levels and variations in contrast seem to confuse the sensors in auto-focus mode. I daresay I could get better pictures using manual settings but that's something I have little knowledge of unfortunately.

I walked on from the hide, following the coast path signage to the point where it reaches a large patch of wooded wetland, fenced off separately. It's an area I've never explored before and on times it's been fenced off. This time the path was open with the entrance flanked by a large sign saying 'Oxwich Nature Reserve'. The path narrows as it runs alongside a long freshwater pond, sections of path are made into a board-walk with platforms overlooking the water accessible to wheelchair users. There's a second bird-watching hide too, which looks as if it's been constructed fairly recently. It's wonderful that a stretch of wetland has been opened up in this way. We've been visiting here for over twenty years, and to find a new area with another ecosystem so different from the dunes, is a great credit to Natural Resources Wales and the Penrice Estate.

When I returned, we had a snack lunch followed by a siesta again, then I took Clare to visit the hide and watch the swallows for a while. On the way back, I had a message from Basma showing me her official letter from the Home Office granting her leave to stay for the next five years. That's taken three months to arrive, since the immigration tribunal judge ruled in her favour. Now she has to find herself another place to life, and obtain her UK Travel Document, to enable her to visit her parents in Jordan safely. And she's in a position to find work. It's great news after so many years of insecurity.

We had supper in the restaurant and went to bed even earlier, both of us very tired, Clare hit hard with a virus which results in an energy sapping cough, day and night.

On the beach

Such good fortune on the first day of our stay to wake up to a sunny morning, with the remaining cloud being blown away to leave a bright blue sky. Everywhere you look the trees are thick with leaves in peak condition, earlier than usual due to so much rain and increased warmth. The sea is a vivid blue, the sand golden. Oxwich is such a special place - no matter what the weather, I must say.

One of the pleasures of the Oxwich Bay Hotel is the full cooked breakfast bar, in addition to cereals, fresh toast and patisserie. It sets you up for a day of physical activity. After breakfast, we walked to the hide by the pond set among reed beds. Several swallows were active, and no wonder. Remnants of several nests can be seen on the roof beams. One nest was complete with a couple of hungry chicks in it. Their parents flew in and out several times before we realised the nest was populated. Then I noticed one of them on another beam, waiting patiently for human activity below to die down or move away. Twice I saw a bird with a large insect in its beak, a dragonfly or daddy longlegs, not sure. The photos I took weren't the best but that's not surprising, given the low light. I was using my Sony Alpha 68. I must return there with my Olympus OMD E-M10.1 plus long lens to see if I can get improved pictures as it has image stabilisation, which might make a difference in those conditions.

Clare walked back to the beach, and I walked back by a different route to photograph some flowers, and attempt to photograph a couple of mating butterflies, but no luck. I joined her on the beach to walk back to the hotel, but then went on, up to St Illtud's church to take a few more photos. We had a snack lunch, then a siesta before returning to the beach, as Clare wanted to pick a spot to sit and read. I walked the length of the beach as far as the river, to check what's happened about the bridge near the shore, which was washed off its mounting a couple of years ago. Now the coast path leads to a footbridge, further up-river at a narrower bend. There are a couple more bridges further inland, in the area known as Oxwich Marsh. It's a fascinating wetland area, full of wildlife. It's a pity that it's 45 minutes walk from the village before you can start exploring the area.

Walking along the beach, I was impressed to see how many different kinds of sea shell were being washed in by the tide, suggesting that the bay's off-shore marine ecosystem is still pretty diverse. I didn't see any dunlin running along the shore today, not even the sound of an oyster-catcher, just the usual gull and crow population, tits, robins and warblers.

We went for an early supper at the Hotel, as we were both tired and hungry. A vegetarian tagine dish was what we both fancied. Clare, feeding her cold, was hungry enough to have a goat cheese ravioli starter and a pudding. I enjoyed an interesting tapenade and foccacia starter, something I can try emulating at home.

Secret Garden Stay

A blue sky sunny day with time after breakfast to start packing my case for our mini break in Oxwich Bay. Clare had a bad cough, so I went to the Eucharist at St Catherine's on my own. Once the Sunday school children joined us, we were about fifty in church with Fr Sion celebrating and preaching in a relaxed way. He told us the church hall had been broken into on Wednesday evening, and apparently the local Scout hut the next night. Apart from window damage and the chaos of every container being emptied, there was no vandalism. It was probably someone searching for money with little idea of what goes on in a public hall used by several different groups. A box containing cans of beer remained intact, overlooked, or perhaps ignored rather than emptied. Inexperienced thieves maybe?

We had lunch early, then I finished packing and loaded the car. It was half past two by the time we left, and I had to get petrol at Culverhouse Cross Tesco filling station before we continued our journey. We reached Swansea about quarter to four, and stopped at Sainsbury's to use their convenient toilet, buy wine and a bottle of water. Clare and I got separated. I waited outside, as the store was closing. I phoned her to check where she was, just as she emerged with a triumphant look on her face and a bundle of clothes in her hand. 

She regretted not having packed a swimming costume, and had popped into the clothing section, found one and dared to try it on, just as the store closure warning announcement was made. She could so easily have got shut in a changing room! She's bought a costume and was carrying a layer of clothes she decided to discard as it was now warmer than she expected when she dressed for the journey. Such a laugh!

I took a wrong turn for Gower in the vicinity of the University and this took us up on to the east end of Clyne Common rather than the west, prolonging out journey by fifteen minutes, so it was nearly five when we checked into our 'pod' accommodation at the hotel. The Secret Garden is an arrangement of six spaces and paths defined by tall hedges, and in each space is a self contained room equipped with a sofa bed, bathroom and shower, a table and chairs, both indoors and outdoors. An ingenious use of space, and just thirty yards from the dining room entrance of the hotel.

After unpacking we went for a walk on the beach. Clare had a paddle, I took photos. Given that it was such a pleasant afternoon, there weren't a huge number of people out on the beach. Perhaps they'd all gone home by the time we arrived, I don't know. We had a picnic supper in our pod, then I walked up the length of the village, remembering places we'd stayed on our previous visits. The sun was setting as I returned, so it was time to draw the curtains on the large glass windows and settle down to enjoy the silence of night and a peaceful sleep.

Scanned again

A mix of sunshine, intermittent showers and drizzle all day, with the wind blowing cold and warm in quite a random way. I woke up at seven and was driving to the UHW Radiology Unit by twenty to eight. The whole place was quiet, with few people around. By five to eight I reached the reception desk and after a short wait was ushered into the MRI scanner area and prepared for the half hour session, enclosed in this huge noisy machine, making an assortment of rhythmic mechanical sounds, which made me think of some kind of techno sound track. I think that's at least the fourth scan I've had. Two or three when I was being treated for the anal abscess, possibly one when a large stone was making its way out from my kidney and now this one. Must check in my blog archive when I get around to it.

With the job done, I was on my way back to the almost empty car park by a quarter to nine. I met Diana from St Catherine's in the corridor, going into work. She's a pharmacist, taking her turn at a Saturday morning duty.

Clare made pancakes for breakfast as it's a Saturday. That's how I know I'm at home again! As a result of a promotion email from the Oxwich Bay Hotel, I booked a three night stay, from tomorrow afternoon until Wednesday. It won't matter if the weather is lousy, just to be in one of our favourite places is what matters.As a matter of urgency, during the day, I got on with recording and editing Morning Prayer and Reflection for next Thursday and uploading to YouTube, so I have no work to think about while we're away.

I cooked sea bass with veggies for lunch. After a siesta we walked together in Thompson's Park. I then went for a longer walk around Llandaff Fields on my own, dodging showers, as I needed more exercise, despite being tired after getting up early. After supper, the last pair of episodes of 'The Sketch Artist'. From the ending, it's clear there'll be a third series. Now a night's sleep without having to think about preaching or taking a service tomorrow.

Mission reported

Another overcast day with showery spells. Promptly at eight the door bell disrupted our slumber. Our fish order for the month arriving from Ashtons. After breakfast, Clare spent ages unpacking and bagging up the content of the order ready for freezing. Fish soup for lunch!

I sent the final revision of my end of stay report to Emma at diocesan HQ. Later we talked about it on the phone. I heard that I wasn't alone among locum chaplains in not receiving invitations to visit or meet with congregation members. A habit which seems to have been lost in the aftermath of COVID. Gathered church becoming nothing more than a gathering of religious consumers, hospitable when gathered, but not otherwise? 

Clare ordered Venetian blinds for the front room, and a man arrived to install them just before lunch. Then a fancy airbed with built-in pump was delivered. We expect a houseful when Rachel and Jasmine arrive at the end of the month, and everyone here for Owain's birthday. Poor guy, his iMac won't power up after ten months in storage. Heaven knows what's wrong with it. He's expecting a big pay rise eventually but getting to know the worst, and whether it can be fixed will have to wait until then.

After lunch, I worked on a reflection for next Thursday. It's difficult to think of something fresh to say in 500 words on The Rich Man and Lazarus when you've covered it so many times. Impossible not to repeat some ideas, but important to find a new insight, even if it does take ages. While I was writing, Clare had her first clarinet lesson with a loaned instrument. While she's mastered basic flute playing she feels the strain on her shoulders from the transverse playing position. The vertical playing of the clarinet could be more amenable to her. She's not afraid to give things a try, that's for sure.

As soon as I set out for a walk at tea time, it started to rain. Rather than get soaked, instead of ending my walk with a visit to Tesco's for a bottle of wine, I went straight there and back in between showers. It's so frustrating, this unpredictable weather. 

As I have my MRI appointment at eight in the morning, I rang the Radiology department at UHW to confirm attendance, I asked about parking and was told Saturday is the best day of the week to get a place in the multi-storey car park. So I don't have to get up extra early to walk there, in order to avoid having to hunt for a parking space in competition with thousands of others.

After supper, I went out again to complete my daily steps quota on a damp drizzly dull evening, before an early night.

Is it really June?

Another cold damp night, waking up under a grey sky, posting today's Morning Prayer link to YouTube eventually getting up and making breakfast. It feels like early March at time moment, not Flaming June. Quite hard to adjust to physically after weeks away in hot weather. Jab reaction symptoms are fading now but I'm not completely clear yet. Still occasional flashes of headache. 

On my way to St John's for the Eucharist, I went to Tesco's and bought food bank offerings. We were only five this morning, but we still had a coffee together afterwards. I made an effort when I returned to start on preparing next week's Morning Prayer, but didn't have much energy to think creatively. More rest needed, so letting myself drift through the day sitting quietly in the arm chair seemed acceptable. Again I slept for over an hour and a half after lunch.

In the mail on my return was a questionnaire from the University Ophthalmology department designed to give the waiting list people an idea of my general state of health and the impact of the condition of my cataract. I don't think it can be that helpful. It's not so bad that I can't see out of one eye, and it doesn't stop me doing anything I need to, but as a visual thinker, it impairs me, slows me down, affecting confidence in a subtle way, makes me work harder at things that come naturally at a quick pace. No room for that on a survey sheet. Anyway, it's done now, and I doubt if it will have any impact on the time I'll be waiting.

After supper I went out for a walk in the drizzle to get some fresh damp air. I've done about 80% of my usual daily quota today. The weather was a deterrent, plus my reluctance to push myself too hard, but I'm glad I went out. Then before bed,I watched another couple of episodes of 'The Sketch Artist'.

The last of the political party manifestos to appear in the run up to the General Election was launched this morning, with Plaid Cymru calling for a greater share in national resources which it rightly deserves, and  the Labour Party setting out its values as the basis for a strategic plan, not over-promising, but being realistic and honest, given how much the Party won't know until it enters government. I find this approach has more integrity, despite the hostile scrutiny by journalists looking for some catchy simplistic slogan to peddle unrealistic hope to the masses. 

Lying low

An unseasonable cold night, with the 'flu like symptions of reaction to yesterday's covid jab adding to the chill. I wondered if I'd be able to drive safely with the pain in the muscle where I was jabbed, so I left early for the dentist's. It wasn't that bad once I got going however. It turned out that it was a filling I'd broken, one which could be 25 years old. Done in 15 minutes. Feels rock solid again now. I drove home then walked to St Catherine's, arriving half way through the Eucharist. Afterwards, I chatted with the regulars for half an hour, then Fr Siôn and I went to Chapter Arts Centre for another coffee and chat, convenient for collecting this week's veggie bag. It's good to see him enjoying his pastorate. He's lived in Canton for years, now he's one of the local pastors. Neighbour not stranger. Great! 

By the time I reached home Clare had lunch cooked, without the fresh veg having given up waiting for me to return. After eating I spent much of rest of the day sleeping off the jab reaction. The only useful thing I did was to shred a thick file folder of ancient bank statements and documents from my time in Monaco. I don't know why I didn't do that before. There's more stuff from past jobs to be got rid of, not to mention a load of books I won't now read or need to, as so much relevant information is now on the internet. Time for a clear out and make my study into something more than a store room for this that might one day come in handy - as if! The world has changed a lot, more so since I retired. After supper I watched another of the 'Sketch Artist' stories. Then early bed. Can't get enough sleep at the moment.

Homecoming

I set my phone alarm for ten to six, but woke up at ten past five and couldn't settle, so I got up stripped the bed and took everything that needed washing down to the machine, ready for Pat to deal with when she come in to clean. Breakfast, then the rest of the packing, and emptying the bins. The taxi arrived at twenty five to six, and by that time, my luggage and the remaining bin bag were outside, ready to leave ahead of schedule. We stopped to drop off the rubbish bag at the bottom of the hill and then too the N340 to Torrox and the A7 to Malaga.

I noticed the the taxista drove somewhat faster that the speed limit in some stretches on the way to the airport. The traffic wasn't as congested as it has been when leaving twenty minutes later on previous occasions, and no traffic cops! As a result, the fifty five minute journey took just fifty, and I walked into airport security clearance at twenty five past seven. There was a long slow moving queue, but when it was my turn, I had a setback. My cabin bag alerted the scanner to an anomaly, and had to be searched. Just as well I wasn't late. That was when the jars of honey I brought to take home were confiscated, as they were bigger than the 100ml limit for liquids. I was bewildered by this, as I took a larger jar of honey home in my backpack on my last trip. Due to the dense character of that particular product, the scan system didn't register it as a volume of liquid over the prescribed limit. 

I drew the wrong conclusion from this in the light of the confusing stream of news about security scanning improvements making it possible for an individual to carry up to two litres worth in hand luggage. So far improved scanning has led to your little plastic bag of 100ml liquids no longer needing to be taken from hand luggage for display. Some airports are equipped for the higher limit, but others not, UK government has flipped and flopped on this recently. I'm not sure if policy is uniform across the EU or airports within a country, but I was misled and less scrupulous about checking than I usually am. What a waste of time and effort. I hope unopened pristine products confiscated go to a deserving cause and don't get trashed, as that would be obscene as well as unfair. If that honey had been crystallised, would it register on the scanner. I asked this of the officer who deal with me, and he said yes. Or he didn't understand the difference between honey in crystalline suspension and the pure liquid form.

I had more than a two hour wait until our flight was due to board. When everyone was on board the pilot announced a twenty minute delay, due to the fact that his detachable pilot's tray table wouldn't detach, so a couple of mechanics had to be called for to sort the problem out before the aircraft could be flown. We were fifteen minutes late arriving in Cardiff. Being near the front, I sped my way up and down many sets of steps to the automated passport gates, and only had to wait five minutes. I was out of the building by ten to one. A five minute dash to the coach stop, and still I had no ticket. 

I'd been uncertain about booking the night before, not know if I would be able to get the 13.00 coach. I couldn't access the internet at the airport, and was unable to book. Then the nicest thing happened. The coach driver told me to get on and book while we were going non stop to Cardiff. It took me half an hour to do this on my phone with the bus moving about and me making many mistakes and having to repeat the exercise. I lost the opportunity to use my coach card and paid more than I needed to for a ticket, but I was just so glad not to have to wait around for another two hours. I walked home from the Sophia Gardens coach station and was in the house re-united with Clare again, at three.

While I was on the coach, I had a voice message from Owain's friend Jennie in Nerja, getting in touch as a result of a conversation we had about partnership working between Nerja's New Life Church of which she is a member, and Nerja Anglicans. I was pleased to be able to tell her about Peter, my successor and pass on his contact details. Also I had an email from Fr Sion, our newest team member, inviting me for a chat this week. We met in times past at parties given by Martin, but not apart from this. So we've arranged to get together after Mass on Wednesday. 

A long day, with plenty of exercise one way or another, so I didn't go out for a walk but stayed in, and after supper watched a couple of episodes of 'The Sketch Artist', the French Canadian crime drama, to relax with a little entertainment, until it was time to sleep. 

Winding up

A bright sunshine and clear blue sky day. Half the packing done after breakfast, then an early drive to San Miguel. I was relieved to find an empty parking  place close to the Plaza de Andalusia. It's been a worry every Sunday of my stay, as the streets are narrow, and empty spots few and far between, so it can absorb time when it's needed to help prepare for the Eucharist. There were only fifteen of us this morning, with several regulars away and several more leaving at the end of their 90 day stay. It was just John, Judith and I at Bar Atalaya after the service.

I went straight back to Church House, washed a shirt to travel in, confident it will dry in this heat and completed cooking lunch, having started yesterday to free up time today for packing and cleaning up. One more trip down to the rubbish bins. One more hill climb in the cool of the evening, then as much rest as I can get for a six o'clock wake up, ready for the taxi at 06.40.

In this sojourn in Nerja, I've not explored any new places, but visited a few familiar places several times with different visitors. For reasons I don't understand being so isolated has impeded me from adventuring. It's made me extra cautious and routinely careful, as I was on locum in Estepona two years ago. Driving there on unfamiliar congested roads was very stressful. That I believe was due to that not yet untreated left eye cataract. My left eye is fine now, but the right eye cataract has worsened, and I need to work hard to be sure I'm reading the road and everything else around me safely. I'm not sure if really bright sunshine is a help or hindrance. No idea how long I will have to wait, or where I am on the NHS list. One way or another, it will be a relief to get home, and have company again, and not have to be giving out to others all the time when I go to church. Time for a respite.

In an effort to use up all the remaining fresh veg, I stewed the remaining mushrooms, a red onion and a tomato, with a small tin of mussles. Then before going to bed, I made sandwiches for breakfast and the journey. A rye bread sandwich with pickled boquerones. Two delicious treats to send me on my way.  

Leave it the way you'd like to find it

The sun was bright when I woke up after sunrise. A light breeze pushed the humid air inland making it a little cooler, and I dozed off again, and didn't get up until nine. Ten hours in bed, eight hours twenty in various stages of sleep, according to my Fitbit. I notice that I'm more physically tired as the days go on, although I'm fitter and I think lighter than when I arrived. Walking most days several kilometres uphill is demanding. I need the extra rest. Old age is catching up with me.

Most of the morning and afternoon I spent pottering around the house, preparing and printing a set of instructions on how to use the office computer to print pew sheets, then printing off tomorrow's and my sermon. I made copies of a list of useful phone numbers from a local magazine and put them in strategic places to consult in an emergency. I tidied, emptied bins, then cooked lunch. In Boy Scout hiking and camping days we were instructed to leave a campsite the way we'd like to find it. It's something that I always remember in the final days of locum duty service. I even succeeded in putting a few things into my cabin bag. With stuff spread around the house, it's necessary to start rounding up my possessions sooner rather than last minute.

Finally, I took the rubbish and recycling to the bins on my way to the Line 3 bus. I made a brief round trip into town to buy a pot of special honey to take home for Clare. The bus changes from Line 1 to Line 3 at parada Monica. A small group of young Americans were at the back of the bus, and evidently didn't know they they had to pay another euro to continue on the second route. The driver told them they had to get off, or he wouldn't start the bus, but they didn't understand. I'm not sure if they wanted to stay on or not, but they were puzzled. 

I explained the bus arrangements to them, but it still didn't make sense, so they got off anyway. Did they have a destination in mind? Or were they riding around in the way you would on a dedicated tourist bus. The trouble is, the Verano Azul town bus service is not adequately publicised. It's a constant source of bewilderment to visitors. The municipal marketing manager needs waking from his siesta. Confused tourists aren't happy tourists.

The old man with stiff limbs who lives in the decrepit gatekeeper's lodge by the Hotel Marinas de Nerja had great difficulty getting on the return bus with his shopping trolley. He sat facing me at a distance. I nodded to him, and after a moment his eyes lit up as he looked at me. I wondered if he recognised me as the hombre who'd rescued the euro he dropped when he paid his fare on a previous journey. I saluted him through the window as I got of the bus at Ladera del Mar, just in case.

Supper, a chat with Clare, and a short spell in the fresh air going up the hill as the sun was setting, before attempting an early night once again. On the way back I caught sight of the tiny sliver of a new moon about the western  horizon. Enchantment at twilight!

I'm looking forward to getting home and relaxing in a familiar place, but I know I'll miss this verdant environment with its different birds and flowers and history still to discover. It's unlikely I'll have reason to return here again in future. Strange to think that Owain and I made a flying visit here on our way back from a trip to Granada when he stayed with me on locum duty in Malaga, That was an unexpected return, just as this spell of locum duty was after nine years. We never know what the future holds for us.

Stop, look, listen

As I was settling down to sleep last night I heard the whine of a mosquito nearby. Both Clare and I have been bitten, but neither seen or heard evidence of the offender(s). This time the insect was inside the lamp shade on the bedside, unable to find its way out, or maybe too tire or sick to fly up or down and escape. It was easy prey, retribution for all the itching misery we've both endured. I'm unrepentant of taking its life!

I woke up at seven with the sun's early light dimmed by high level cloud turning into haze again and it was humid. A morning to endure patiently, put finishing touches to my end of stay report and Sunday sermon. I go over things time and time again looking for better ways to express what I want to be heard.

At half past one, Adrian called to give me a lift to the Chinese restaurant where John and Judy took me on my first evening here. We were joined by Judith, another church council member for a meal to say thank you for my ministry to them. How kind of them! I had Tai Chicken salad for a starter - small slices of meat on a bed of lettuce made soggy by an overdose of salad dressing which was like mayonnaise thinned out with a little lemon juice. Nothing to suggest South East Asia about it. 

I followed this with something called 'Fuzhi' I think, a mixture of pork, beef, fish and chunks of king prawn with a few bean sprouts and other unrecognisable leaves on a bed of rice. This was served in a savoury brown sauce in an oven hot cast iron pot. Chinese hotpot I guess. It contained more protein than starch, went down comfortably and stayed down. Not a dish I would choose to eat again. Nevertheless, the company was enjoyable and conversation interesting. I was surprised that the house wine was labelled almost entirely in Chinese, apart from one tiny corner which read 'Rioja'. Quite a good one too,

It was four by the time we parted company. I returned to Church House on foot to be sure of getting most of my daily exercise quota, and get my digestion working. Walking alongside the N340 I noticed for the first time the avocado bushes in the orchards either side of the road starting to bear fruit, albeit numerous and still tiny. I'd love to be here long enough to learn how the bushes are managed by the fruit farmers. They had multiple headed flower stems early on when I was here. Where the fruiting is really prodigious, branches must get very heavy. I wonder if some of the fruit fail to develop if packed close together, or if some fruit are harvested early and sold. In the shops they often come in a variety of sizes. Spending time in a place where small scale commercial horticulture is part of everyday life arouses curiosity. There's so much I'd like to know.

The slopes of hills and valleys all along this coast from shore to summit are covered with dry stone wall terraces. Some of the lower ones are given over to cultivating avocado, if not aubergine, carob, citrus or almond. But there are many more higher terraces which are empty, overgrown, abandoned. I wondered if these were the relic of some sort of water catchment scheme to supply the lower levels, or stabilise the ground. 

Then I came across a simpler explanation, in an article about coast path walking trails in this area. Vineyards. Large scale vine cultivation from the 18th century onwards. But no longer it seems, although the terrain is harsh enough to suit many varieties. Was it phylloxera that killed off the industry in the l9th century? Or the economics of transporting the finished product to market? Or not profitable enough to sustain commercially in an impoverished region? I'd love to find out why.

Oh dear, here I go again. Fascination with the environment in places where I sojourn, leading me to look for the relics of past industry. In Mojacar it was minerals transported by rail from the sierras to the sea. Same in Watchet Somerset too. When first in Nerja, discovering relics of the sugar cane industry. Then in Rincon de la Victoria and in Malaga the coastal railway (now a walking path), which transported cane sugar to port. How a landscape and its ecosystems tell you a story, if you stop, look and listen.

When I was eleven years old, one of my birthday presents was an autograph book. My Dad wrote inside the front cover those three words 'Stop, look, listen' - his lifetime advice to me. It took me half a lifetime to realise these words can be found on panels alongside railway tracks, especially at junctions. His job in the coal mine was running the underground transport system, and ensuring its safety. 'Stop, look and listen' was what he made sure everyone did in order to stay alive in a dangerous environment. My life and context are utterly different from his, but his words of advice apply to me equally six decades later.

After a generous lunch I didn't feel much like an evening meal. I settled for a couple of ripe peaches and a handful of black olives with a glass of white wine. Then a walk up the hill and back, and then bed. 

Handing over

It was cloudy before dawn, and humid at 25C. Little was seen of the sun until late morning and when clouds turned into banket of haze and the temperature went up to 30C. At seven I uploaded the YouTube link to this week's Morning Prayer and dozed for an hour before getting up.

Traipsing along the beach path yesterday made my trousers very dusty, so I decided to wash them after breakfast. I gave my other pair to the church shop, as they're 3-4 inches too big at the waistband, wearable if I was still the same girth was was five years ago. I stayed in pyjama shorts until the trousers were dry. It took longer than it would have done yesterday when it was very hot all morning, Two hours outdoors was enough anyway.

I was too late organising myself to take the Line 3 bus, and went in by car parked in the 'dust bowl' instead and then walked to the Church Shop. I chatted with John and Judy who were on duty and helped close up at the end. On my way back to the car I bought a jar of local orange blossom honey to take back with me. I may need another, if this doesn't make my cabin bag too heavy. 

I called at Aldi's on the drive back to Church House to get extra stocks of water and a few other items for the incoming locum Chaplain. I was told it may be some time before there is a regular locum occupying the house. Peter who replaces me, has a place of his own not too far away, and may only need to use the church office printer while he's here. I suspect some jobs that need to be done in the house escape attention if the house is empty and not in continuous occupation.

Lunch was a second instalment of yesterday's with a few slices of chorizo for added flavour, a couple of ripening peaches washed down the glasses of Airen vino blanco. A nice combination. At tea time, I had an hour long video chat with Peter the incoming locum. A rare but interesting experience for me to be able to do a person to person handover briefing.

By the evening the temperature started to drop. I took a bag of organic waste down to the bin and walked for a while on the senda litoral, watching large waves driven by a south wind across the Alboran Sea from Morocco, pounding on the shore. The 40 metre high cliffs here are composed of a harder kind of rock dark grey if not black in colour whose strata have been contorted and crushed over centuries by shifting pressure from tectonic plates at the boundary of African and European continents. 

The rock faces look sharp edged and harsh. In some areas they are fragmented, and erode due to wind and waves. In others places horizontal surfaces project from the cliff like platforms. Over time, coastal erosion will inevitably increase with rising sea levels and harsher weather, but maybe in a haphazard way due to the random pattern of fragmented and twisted strata. I imagine geologists are already able to work out how this will play out with computer modelling ability now available. Let's hope their predictions are shared with those who plan and build future coastal roads.

Just as I climbed up to the level of our terrace of ten houses, the street lights came on, just as the last vestiges of sunlight drained from the sky, today's haze dispersed, the blackbird sang its greeting to dusk and the chorus of tree frogs began. The heat seems to have brought out a great crowd of them tonight. On impulse, before I went to bed, I cooked the remainder of the chicken breast pieces to keep in the fridge for making weekend meals with, and using up the remainder of the veg. When Peter arrives he'll stay in his own house during his three weeks of locum duty, so the house will be empty apart from a barbecue planned during his stay. Best to leave the fridge clean, and the beds too.

Reptile surprise

Another hot start to the day, and after breakfast an email to answer from Peter, the locum chaplain who'll follow me next week. I need to brief him about producing the weekly pew sheet, and several other matters. I've already prepared the pew sheet for his first Sunday, as he's not arriving until the weekend. Then I set out to catch the Line 3 bus into town, rushing to get there punctually, and then having to wait half an hour until it arrived. Standing in the small patch of shade at the bus stop, I spied a small brown and green lizard in the raised bed at my feet, the first I've seen since I've been here, and then only for a few seconds. Not enough time the get my phone out for a picture, having forgotten my proper camera.

A Dutch lady was waiting for the bus. I chatted with her in Spanish, explaining it was not unusual for the Line 3 to be late due to traffic. She got impatient and started walking in the direction of the parada by the Mesonera de Nerja restaurant. The bus arrived, picked me up and drove on. Unusually, it was packed with passengers, and wasn't labelled 'Line 3' as usual. From this I could only conclude there was a problem with traffic circulation. The Dutch lady arrived at the next stop just as the bus pulled into the lay-by. We laughed when we eyeballed each other. The bus disgorged many but not all its passengers, not at parada Monica, but an unofficial stop opposite the Ermita. The driver was definitely improvising! 

When I walked down the street that leads to parada Monica, a very tall mobile platform being used for work on an eight storey building was planted on the pavement and on roughly a third of the road. Cars could pass, but any larger vehicle like the town bus would find it a tight squeeze and put the mobile platform at risk. Thus parada Monica could not be used today. I wonder if this information was publicized anywhere? Certainly not at the stop suppressed.

I spent an hour in the Church shop until it closed, then decided to walk back along the beach owing to the uncertainty about where to get the bus. Near the Marinas de Nerja hotel is a small chirungito which has yet to open, if it will open at all this season, like the nearby Playa Paraiso de Nerja restaurant which is closed and visibly decaying. Here I spotted a brown snake sunbathing, then disappearing into the dry stone retaining wall that separates the beach gravel from the patio. I waited around for a while and got a succession of photos of it on my phone. Google tells me it was a grass snake; about a metre long too! Interesting, but photos not nearly as good and sharp as the TZ95 would produce. Have a look here.

For lunch I stewed some chicken with judia plana, onions and mushrooms, to go with pasta. Enough for two days. I needed to wash my shirt and vest and get them out to dry, as they were soaked with sweat after walking in full sun. I wore my jacket to prevent my arms from burning, rather than put on a long sleeved shirt. Not a good idea.

Thinking about what I want to do when I return, I decided that after three years withou a break, I'd like to stop doing the weekly Morning Prayer videocast, and let someone else bring something fresh to the offering. I enjoy the creative exercise especially the reflection writing, but feel the need to do something different. This litte exercise developed out of covid lockdown. Nonody really knows how many or few people make use of it. There's been no review of it or discussion about the future. So I decided to tell the other contributors that I wish to stop and raised the question of revieving what we do. I will be interested to see if there is any reaction.

As promised, I assembled the various files needed to produce print and web versions of the pew sheet, plus detailed instructions about how to get the best out of the office computer and printer, then emailed them to Fr Peter, the locum following me. He's a Mac user, but depending on the age of his device, he may not be able to use it directly with the printer, which is pre-wifi and pre-USB port hardware. It's fine once you get acquainted with the workarounds! After aupper, I spent the evening making the video slideshow to go with next week's Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube. Bed time seemed to come around very quickly.

Soft collision

Another very bright hot sunny day. Hand washing to do after breakfast, and around noon, a drive to town to visit the church shop. As I reached the Mesonera roundabout, a car sped around it without signalling so I had to brake quickly to stop at the give way sign. The car behind me skidded on the very slippery surface of the pedestrian crossing and bumped into the car at a low enough speed not to cause any damage, nor to bang my head on the headrest. Fortunately, modern car bumpers are designed to absorb a low speed impact

It was quite a shock, but I was relieved to find the back bumper un-marked or cracked. The driver of the small van behind me was equally relieved that all was well. I took a photo of his car's registration plate, which he said was damaged in a previous accident. In any case there was no protruding part of my car's bumper at a height that could damage his number plate. So both of us drove on, having accepted 'no pasa nada', as they say around here.

After an hour chatting in the shop, I did the main week's grocery shopping in the Mercadona and returned to Church House. Lunch was the second instalment of what I cooked yesterday with added fresh tomatoes. Afterwards I prepared the Morning Prayer text and wrote a biblical reflection for a week Thursday, both of which I recorded and edited in the evening. 

Before supper I took the recycling bag down to the bins and walked backed to the morning's collision site to take a photo of it. The crossing had several black skid marks right across. It needs restoration to a safe condition. Walking back up Tamango Hill, I was aware of the acrid scent of manure on the evening breeze. It's happened several times lately. Loads of fresh manure from a horse or donkey stable have been delivered and dumped in the avocado orchard on the other side from the road for spreading among the bushes.

I drove the car on to the forecourt of the house and washed two months of fine dust from it with a few bowls of water, partly to check if the morning's collision had left traces, but it hadn't. I'm finding the heat tiring, so it's early bed again for me tonight.

More tech' housekeeping

 By the time I woke up this morning, the sun was peeping over the horizon high up the valley opposite, an hour after actual sunrise over the ocean. The sun creeps out of the sea and ascends at an angle, hidden by ridge opposite. Over the past ten weeks, I've watched it appear higher up incrementally. I don't suppose I have ever observed the sun's movement with the same attention I have done with the moon. It really is wonderful, and worth making the effort if you're not too tired. I've never been an early riser however, so this change in habit is reaping rewards of its own.

I had a load of washing to run through the machine after breakfast. In the bright morning sun, all was bone dry ready to wear in a couple of hours. It took less time than that to copy the chaplaincy hard drive data to the USB flash drive I bought last night, though it wasn't possible just to copy all the files in one go. There were scores of unclassified files of similar nature which needed to be put into folders, to make the whole business of viewing them less daunting. 

I have archive file structures in my personal system dating from the nineties and still retrievable. Only one file of tens of thousands could not be copied as it was corrupted. No idea why. It doesn't matter. Errors do occur in saving files from time to time. The worry is when there are multiple errors, hinting of a likely hard drive failure. While I was in the office I remembered to print off a copy of my boarding pass for next Monday, although I have it stored digitally already. Better safe than sorry. The next task will be to set up the PC's OneDrive account and sync all the files to the Cloud, facilitating an eventual hardware upgrade. For reasons I can't fathom however, I can't figure out so far how to do this.

Then I drafted my final sermon for next Sunday, and didn't stop in time to make it worthwhile going into the church shop today. It was quite hot at 25C and I didn't much fancy going out, so kept on working in the relative coolness of the house. For lunch, I reproduced a favourite tapa of mine - small broad beans with onion, mushrooms and cured diced ham. Great flavour paired with rice. When Clare was here some green apples were purchased resembling cooking apples. I thought they were in fact. I decided it was time to try one. Not sour enough for British cooking apples, although they might do well in an apple tart. Uncooked, they had a pleasant subtle flavour and firm texture despite a month in the fruit bowl. Two more to eat and enjoy before I leave!

Yesterday evening's photos I uploaded to Google photos in a separate album. Some of them are quite good, giving a sense of the occasion, but it was difficult with so many among the onlookers doing the same as me with their phones. So many images of the backs of people's heads! My photos are here. The edited ones, that is.

Before supper, I walked down to Playa Paraiso and back to get some exercise. The early evening sun was still very bright and hot. I regretted not having worn a jacket or a long sleeved shirt but didn't burn fortunately. I persuaded my camera to behave and focus at 30 times zoom on a solitary ship miles out at sea. It's not sharp, and at full magnification the letters on the side of the ship are too poorly defined to be legible, but its profile showed it to be what I think is an empty container ship.

Some more writing and editing to do, but tired enough to need and early bed.

Corpus Christi in Nerja

Another dull humid start to the day. though later in the morning the sky cleared and the temperature rose to the low twenties, but it was still humid. I arrived early at church. A group of local parishioners were busy setting up an altar of welcome under the trees in the Plaza de Andalucia in front of the church, ready for this evening when the Corpus Christi procession arrives from Iglesia San Salvador. Once the church was clear of worshippers, I went in and stated preparing for the service I was about to take. I didn't find it easy to preach this morning as the church doors were kept open throughout our service, as is the custom. The background chatter of people working hard to create an outdoor sanctuary was mildly distracting, and I wondered if the same was true for the nineteen of us inside trying to listen.

After a non-alcoholic beer at Bar Atalaya, I headed back to Church House and cooked the last remaining fillet of panga from the freezer, with steamed veg for lunch. Fortunately as it's so slim, it doesn't take as long to defrost as denser fish or meat would. I had some report writing to do, and that get myself back to Nerja for the evening Mass and Corpus Christi procession at six. I parked in the 'dust bowl', and on my way to Plaza San Salvador called in the open all hours Chinese tech' gadget shop and bought a USB flash drive to use to archive the content of the chaplaincy laptop in a form anyone can access if they bring with them a faster laptop than the one available.

The church bells rang at half past five as I was arriving there. A group was rehearsing the music for Mass and practicing with the accompanying slide show of hymns and liturgical texts displayed on TV screens attached to the pillars of the nave. No more hymn books! I can't say I was enamoured by the music or simple chorussy songs chosen. Not much content, and musically dull. By the time the service started the place was about half full and filled up completely by the time the Gospel was read. 

The three parish clergy concelebrated the Eucharist, and lay people did the rest. An appeal was made for Caritas, the Catholic social service organisation and a collection taken. A couple of dozen youngsters made their first Communions, the boys in sailor suits, the girls in white dresses. Altogether, there was a congregation of about four hundred. The town band played for the procession with the Sacrament after Mass, making a station for Benediction opposite the church at a spot overlooking Playa Calahonda, then made its way through the streets to Iglesia San Miguel, for another Mass to close the fiesta. Tiredness began to overtake me, so I didn't follow the procession all the way, and returned to Church House for supper, and a walk up the hill as the sun was setting and it was slightly cooler. Definitely feeling my age at the moment, so another attempt at an early night beckons.

Summertime - Oh really?

The first day of meteorological summer today. Dull, overcast, humid, but cooler. 

I drove into town after a slow breakfast to find the computer shop recommended for buying printer paper. Closed on Saturdays I discovered. Then I went to the church shop and chatted with volunteers Mary and Judith, who suggested the Libreria de Europa on the Calle Granada near the Balcon as most likely to be open and hold stocks. And thus it was so. I returned with two reams of paper, which should be enough to print pew sheets until the autumn. I'd forgotten how heavy they'd be and glad that I'd taken my rucksack.

For lunch I made a risotto with mushrooms, mussels and lots of lemon. I was pleased with the result, even better than my last experiment with a small can of mussels. After a siesta, I chatted with Clare and then my sister June. Before supper, I took the rubbish down to the bins and walked to the Mesonera restaurant and back. It's rather amusing to see blue banners decorating each roundabout, and occasionally stretched over narrow streets, with the legend 'Vota PP'. For a while I saw a single banner on a roundabout with the 'Vox' legend, but it soon disappeared. So far I haven't seen a single PSOE or other regional leftist party banner. It's clear which party dominates the public realm around here, as elections for the E.U. parliament draw near, next weekend in fact.

The fact that ex President Trump has been convicted on charges of false accounting in the USA is causing concern as he's been whingeing loudly for months about political persecution. According to polls he seems to be gaining support for his forthcoming presidential campaign, posing as a champion for the disaffected. America strives to uphold the rule of law, Trump believes he is above the law and can persuade people to believe his version of any story he chooses to tell. 

The country is deeply divided and could be destabilised, especially with Russia and maybe China quietly adding to the chaos with fake news to confuse the populace and generate uncertainty. A very dangerous scenario. Europe and the UK will have to work hard to ensure unity of purpose and action with American solidarity and support under question again from a Trump administration. He behaves like a populist dictator, and with dictatorships of a different kind in Russia, China and Iran to name a few, the future of democratic government in the rest of the world is no longer quite so certain.

The Biden administration has continued to press Israel's extreme right wing government take heed of global opinion that its actions in Gaza have violated international law and treated the whole population cruelly and inhumanely in pursuit of its war aims with more than 33,000 people dead and countless others injured, without hospital treatment, overwhelmed by famine, due to inadequate humanitarian aid. In the background, ceasefire talks have continued through the mediation of third party states, but hopes of resolution seem to ebb and flow. 

It's been like this for months, to painful to reflect or comment upon Every now and then there's some new outrage involving indiscriminate killing of unarmed civilians. The damage to the long term reputation of Israel as a humane democratic society is hard to imagine at this stage. The Israeli government may be about to achieve its chief war aim of eliminating Hamas as a military and governing power, but the generation of orphans that survives yet another 'Nakbah' won't forget. Who knows what the future holds for Gazans as a result? How many hostages taken by Hamas eight months ago will survive to tell their tale? If any. Can anything good come out of it?

Before bed, completing tomorrow's pew sheet production and printing off my sermon. It occurred to me to check how much data is on the parish hard drive. Ten years worth, less than 200mb surprisingly. There are far fewer photos on it and documents are smaller sized. Older computers didn't generate such large files anyway. The OneDrive account has never been used, so as it stands, there's no backup, and all could be lost at any time. I've asked John if he has an old USB memory stick unused to spare, so I can back up the files. No point in getting a new one forty times the capacity that will never be needed. I wish I'd brought one from home as well as the spare mouse that will stay here when I leave.

A few noisy nighttime outdoor parties in a scattering of residences around the valley this evening. I wonder what it will be like in a month from now?