Màlaga homecoming

Up at six thirty, putting a load of bed linen into the wash just after seven, then breakfast. By the time we left for San Pedro at nine, the sheets were on the line drying.

We were about two dozen for the Eucharist at San Pedro. I finished unhurried in good time to make my farewells and get on the road to Sotogrande. The child to be baptized in the service was three years old and clearly not feeling at ease in church, or maybe reflecting her parents' unease. She wasn't happy about the baptismal ritual and reacted to my attempt to sign her with the cross, so I asked her father to do this instead as it's permissible anyway. She howled in protest when I poured water over her head. 

It might have been different if her parents had brought her to church before her baptism day, but they didn't. Congregation members were pleased that we used the traditional font and not a bowl of water at the altar. Having a procession to the font was part of the process to my mind. Anyway, all ended well. I said my second set of goodbyes, and headed back to Estepona.

Clare had lunch ready when I arrived, and the second load of washing was already nearly dry. With everything packed, it was but a short time before Paul arrived with Patricia to had over the keys. Paul drove us to the bus station in good time for the five thirty coach to Málaga, arriving just after seven. We took a local bus from the estación de buses to the Paseo del Parque, and walked from there to Hotel Eliseo in La Malagueta, right next to the apartment block where I spent many months a few years back, where the chaplain now lives.

We went out for supper at the Central Bar Restaurant, and had a very pleasant meal as it was getting dark. Then a short walk on the beach before turning in for the night. Happy to be back in a corner of the world which means so much to me.

Need for order

I woke up at dawn and posted my Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp an hour earlier than usual.  After breakfast I went to Carrefour to re-stock food items we'd used while Clare did her physio exercises and then went for a swim. By the time she returned from the pool I'd made progress in cooking our lunch.

Patricia sent me a message about the possibility of using the office computer for the Powerpoint slides at Sunday worship. I've not used it, as I discovered early on that its set-up and updating process had stalled. As it was going to be needed at some point soon, I took another look at it. Three hours of the afternoon later it had finished the process and was running as smoothly as was possible for a twelve year old laptop running Windows 10. Its version of MS Office is still unregistered, and its OneDrive account inaccessible or simply unused, but it runs Powerpoint presentations properly, even if it's a bit slow getting to the point where it can.

I realise that some of the problems I've had about finding relevant information since I've been here are due to it not being accessible how I expect it to be. The chaplaincy handbook, wedding and baptism register weren't in designated places. There's no compendium of information about the household. It's all there, but in piecemeal fashion. Loads of detailed directory information about who does what, displayed in a small print paper file pinned to a notice board, hard for me to read at the moment. 

None of this  information could I find available on the chaplain's computer. For someone unfamiliar with the setup arriving, with few people to ask and get explanations from, while getting on with the job, this has made life difficult. It would have helped if the study had been tidy and everything put away in the designated place. I didn't realise that the first thing I needed to do at the outset was tidy up. So much chaplaincy business is now conducted on-line that ordering the workspace, including a functional office computer is still desirable. This may have been no problem for returning locum clergy, but coming in from scratch is another matter. I've enjoyed the work challenges, but understand now why it's all felt so precarious on times.

We went for a walk on the senda litoral before supper. I watched a classic movie on BBC Four called Witness for the Prosecution, a classic British 1957 courtroom drama with remarkable twists at the end, starring Marlene Dietrich, Charles Laughton and Tyrone Power. Great entertainment, like going to the theatre.

Back again in the Old Town

When we woke up at sunrise, we were surprised to see a cumulus cloud bank along the Moroccan coast, not just the usual sea mist. Will this bring proper rain, or more dust and sand from North Africa? Depends on the prevailing wind I suppose.

I picked up Patricia at a quarter to eleven and we drove to the coffee morning at Sabinillas. Clare decided not to come with us. With people starting to return from holidays, there were eight of us altogether. After the session Patricia took me to an estanco where I could buy postage stamps, as Clare bought postcards to send yesterday. It was also a newsagent's and tobacconist's shop selling English newspapers, and I had to queue for five minutes to get into the shop before being served.

After returning, I accompanied Clare to the urbanizacion swimming pool for her daily dip, and then we prepared lunch together. The cloud was high and it was humid, and a siesta after eating essential. Later we cauight the bus to the town centre and walked the short distance from there into the Casco Viejo, as the old town on the hill is called, with the remains of its Saracen fortress and Roman octagonal tower, and the parish church of La Virgen de los Remedios. There was a big festive procession through the streets here on 15th August, but sadly I didn't know anything about what was happening.

The church dates from the 18th century and started life as a Franciscan tertiary order convent. Like San Pedro's church in San Pedro itself, the design of the building reflects Latin American colonial influence in its style. Unusually, the facade of its tall tower is painted yellow with red lines ostensibly marking where the corner stone building blocks are located. Because of its Franciscan history, buildings surrounding the church are still in use by the parish and its Marian cofradia. There's a statue outside in honour of a 20th century parish priest who served there for fifty years. The streets in the surrounding area are very much in the Andalusian pueblo blanco tradtiion, well looked after and full of flowers. At six, however, the streets were still empty and none of the hostelries were open. We had walk down to the sea front to get a drink and find a toilet, in an amusing styled retro '50's bar/cafe called 'Pit Stop'

We walked back from there to the port, and just missed a bus back to Beverly Hills. Rather than wait forty minutes for the next one, we walked back in twenty five, and were very tired because of the heat and humidity. After supper, I slumped in front of the telly for a while before turning in for the night.

Sunday funeral

We were up at dawn this morning, watching the sun rise above the scorched hill to the east of us, about ten minutes after the sun appeared on the far side of Estepona bay, An early email from Andrea told me that I was mistaken about Fr William's arrival time, so I had to email the funeral arranger and apologise for mis-informing him about his availability.

We picked up Patricia at nine for the drive to the service at San Pedro, which this week used service books and hymnals again. Following the service a party of seven came with Auntie Jessie's ashes and I officiated at a full funeral service for her before they took her remains away to scatter off her favourite beach. 

We used a new bluetooth speaker linked to my phone to provide music for the three hymns we sang. It worked fine, except that the rendering of hymns they had chosen wasn't easy to sing along to because of the way the organist paused un-necessarily between verses. That was my error unfortunately, but we muddled through.

Then I joined Clare and Patricia and other members of the congregation at Cafe Tradicional for a much needed drink before driving back to the house. Several people remarked how I seem to have been busier with additional pastoral duties than other locum chaplains. For me it's made my stay worthwhile. Next Sunday is my last, and there's another baptism this time at the Sotogrande service.

I cooked while Clare went for a swim, then while she had a post-lunch siesta I worked on my end-of-duty report. As it wasn't very hot at the end of the afternoon, we went down to the Play Guadalbon so Clare could have another swim in the sea at a different location. There are some places where conditions within safe distance of the shore are better than others. A matter of trial and error.

After supper, I slumped in front of the telly and watched Countryfile and Antiques Roadshow before turning in for the night. Although that wasn't such a hot day, I found it rather tiring.

An active day

It was a pleasantly cool night and for much of the day its as 28-29C with a breeze again. I woke up as the sky was turning orange and went outside to watch the dawn and take a few photographs, then went back to bed for a while. Clare cooked pancakes for breakfast with egg batter so I couldn't eat them as I would have done at home, made with a vegan. Never mind, Saturday ritual was duly observed., complete with mashed banana and choccy sauce. 

I had a message from Patricia to say she'd arranged a lift for us to the coach station for our departure a week tomorrow. There was a phone call from a funeral arranger for a service on 31st August. The man in question was by his accent, a Brit, but didn't know that the chaplain he'd worked with before had left nearly a year ago. I was able to put him in touch with incoming locum priest Fr William, who arrives on the day we fly home, fortunately.

We were out of bread and mushrooms, so I walked to the Carrefour market while Clare did her special physio exercises. She went for a swim in the urbanizacion pool while I prepared lunch. After a siesta, we walked to Playa Seghers so she could have a second swim in the sea off a crowded beach, but the water was too shallow for a good swim, without going further out and not being within sight. Determination to have a sea swim satisfied, albeit briefly.

We then walked further towards town to 'Buen Temps' a Chinese run café and small shop for a drink. As we were near Carrefour, I popped across the road to get some lemons, another item forgotten from the shopping list. There's something about persistent heat that seems to impair brain function if you're unused to it. When Clare went to pay she was accidentally overcharged as she was given someone else's bill, so I had to go back with her and explain to rectify matters. My Spanish works, even it I find it hard to recall the correct vocabulary for a specific item!

I walked further today than at any other time since I've been here. We were both pretty tired by the time we returned for a salad supper, and agreed on an early night, with an early Sunday start ahead of us.

Exit plans

Another pleasant sunny day with a cooling breeze - 26-29C. We picked up Patricia from the bus stop at ten twenty and drove to the CAMEO coffee morning in San Pedro. We were eight with the regulars, several others still away. When we drove back into Estepona we left the A7 by a different junction, which took us pas the industrial estate zone where last month's fire did some damage to one of the units nearest to the open heath land. The route was busy with traffic but gave me a new perspective on the town's geography. Inland it's very hilly, and every hill is populated with housing, much of it high rise. We used this route in order to pass by Patricia's house and drop off a bag full of English language novels. They were the last of several bags of books left by previous occupants and circulated among ex-pats in need of a new read. 

Clare had a swim before we cooked lunch, then after a siesta we took a bus from the bottom of the hill that could take us to the east side of Estepona Bay to the Estacion de Buses. When the bus reaches the post it has to turn inland and wind its way over the hills through various barrios, passing the edge of the old town and eventually reaching the far side of the Paseo de la Rada. The bus can't turn east here, as there's no junction to enable this. It has to turn west and drive for half a kilometre before it can join the eastbound carriageway in order to reach the Palacio de Congresos and a Carrefour Hypermarket located in the same vicinity as the coach terminus.

We bought coach tickets for the 17.30 coach to Malaga a week next Sunday, and then went to board a bus that would take us back to the house. The driver wouldn't let us on because didn't have a mask. On the out bound bus, the driver wasn't bothered, although as the bus picked up passengers it became evident other passengers were wearing them. We had to go into Carrefour and buy a pack of masks before we could get on the next bus. It was the same driver who took us on the outbound run, still not wearing his mask properly, in contrast to his zealous colleague. Ah well!

When we got back, Clare fancied another swim, so we went to the pool. It was full of small children, all have a great time. She swam for ten minutes, sunbathed a while longer, and then we headed back to the house. I made fish soup with rice and peas for supper. Clare relaxed on the sun lounger on the upstairs balcony, watching the sunset, while I walked part of the senda litoral. The charco at the place where the rio Guadalobon reaches the sea had been breached, allowing sea water in, and possibly safe exit for sea turtles and fish normally trapped by the sandbank. This looked a bit like environmental management to me rather than a natural occurrence, as there have been no extreme conditions to lead to such a breach in recent days. For the second time during my stay here, there was a heron in the river, and I don't think it was the same kind of heron as I saw last time. Still, it was a rewarding walk before bed.

Getting the timing right

Well, we were promised a seriously hot day, but in the morning it started being cloudy and humid as it has been over the past few days. Then in the afternoon, the sky cleared of cloud and mist and a fierce hot wind picked up. Just the kind of conditions to encourage a fast spreading blaze.

I was up before the alarm saying morning prayer, and ready to go by a quarter to nine. A baptism party of twice the size of the regular congregation was expected at San Pedro, so we were granted the opportunity of using the main church which seats a couple of hundred. It was necessary to bring all our liturgical kit up from the downstairs chapel - not just the communion vessels, but the little electronic organ, the screen and projector to work with Jean's laptop. 

There aren't enough books for an occasion like this so words for worship have to be displayed on screen, but there's no good place where everyone can see, including me. The church is big and voice amplification is vital. I couldn't see the screen and not step out of range of the microphone, so it was an awkward juggle. The font is in a place of its own to the left of the altar. No microphone there, but the parents and godparents had a sheet with the rite of baptism on it, and participated fine. The rest of the congregation had the words on-screen, and it all worked out, although the baptism party, all dressed in white, like the toddler who was the candidate, were rather chatty for most of the service. Nothing I've not been used to at St German's over the years. It all worked out happily as intended, and I was able to slip away at eleven to reach Sotogrande by eleven forty five.

I was greeted with surprise there, as if it was expected I might arrive late due to the baptism. I explained I'd chosen hymns and tailored the readings and sermon to reduce the risk of over-running. This can be done without haste, but it requires extra work, and as a locum pastor I have time to think about this and make an effort to get it right. Great when it works as intended.

When I got back, I cooked some chicken bought yesterday, to go with the last portion of lentil and veg stew. After a high pressure morning, and a satisfying lunch, a siesta was essential. The hot wind was too fierce to think of going for a walk until it calmed down. Except that it didn't. The wind kept blowing, making the house moan with every gust but as the sun went down it turned from a hot wind to a cooling one, which was quite pleasant when I went out for a late paseo along the shore.

Kath is spending the weekend with Clare and has decided to stay on until Tuesday and drive Clare to the airport to catch her flight. What a lovely thing to do!

Ham slicing fiesta

It was quite humid when I woke up at half past six. After sunrise, the sky over the sierras was clear but there was a thick cloud of mist over the sea which took hours to disperse. After breakfast, I wrote another Sunday sermon, and edited next week's Thursday biblical reflection. Andrea sent me a copy of the baptism application form late last night and I sent it off immediately to the family requesting a christening on my final Sunday. This morning the form came back completed. The baptism will happen at my last service in Sotogrande.

With the need to think ahead and plan that last service so everyone knows what's going to happen, I started to think about preparing sermons. Most of the morning and afternoon I spent drafting sermons for the rest of my time here. This will mean I have more free time when Clare is with me. Glad I thought of it.

I walked across to the Paseo de Rada as it began to cool down early evening as far as Avenida Juan Carlos. This time I noticed that the promenade was lined with fiesta type booths, equipped to sell food or drink, but these there in the early stages of getting ready for later evening opening. When I read the publicity banners at the far end, I learned that time between the fiestas of the Transfiguration and the Assumption was dedicated to a special gastronomic event showcasing Spain's remarkable range of cured ham from its different region, an event that's been running for the past 70 years. I'm not sure if it's a trade fair or a nine day gourmet orgy, but it's part of Estepona's tradition of popular cultural. events, styled as a world ham slicing contest. You can take away with you freshly sliced ham off the bone in five euro bags, or you can eat it in an artisanal baker's fresh bread roll, washed down with a local beer. How about that?

The shore was very crowded, but there were fewer people in the water, as big waves had washed up a heap of seaweed, and people had installed themselves higher up the beach behind it. The local council isn't yet on top of this problem. Malaga apparently has an influx of jellyfish at the moment.

I watched an interesting documentary programme about the partition of India in 1947, featuring people whose parents had fled with their families to Britain, returning to look for the homes they had been driven out of. It contained some touching stories. This is a part of British colonial history about which little is known, full of violence and wickedness. Did it have to happen like that? It's a story that does nobody any credit, neither religious nor political leaders, nor the colonisers,

Post covid catch-up

I woke up early and as it was on my mind, I drafted a wedding anniversary blessing service for a couple I'll meet for the first time at San Pedro this Friday. Fortunately. I have easy access to my liturgical archive files on-line, and I enjoy adapting old material for use in a new situation.

I collected Patricia after breakfast to drive to the coffee morning at Sabinillas. There were only four of us, many people aren't around at the moment. It was cool and cloudy early on and there was a haze over the sea, which made me wonder if my eyes were worse than usual. We stayed for less than an hour, and on the way back did the weekly grocery shopping at Mercadona. Patricia shops for herself and for Rose, as it's a big hassle for her to shop unaccompanied in a wheelchair. Getting someone else to shop for bulk items is preferable for her. When she ventures out with her little car and wheelchair, she likes to be as independent as she can, but that rules out any heavy lifting.

It was time to cook another dish that will last me several days when I got back. I bought some celery, as I remembered an Florentine sugo recipe I saw on a telly cooking programme. Finely chopped onion, carrot and celery cooked in oil before adding tomatoes and mushrooms, or whatever. I wonder if I cooked it for long enough as there was a certain crunchiness about the result, thought this wasn't unpleasant. It'll get some more cooking tomorrow. Great with pasta, meat or fish. Great to experiment.

The one thing I forgot on this morning's shopping list was soya milk, so I had to walk to Carrefour and get some before my sunset stroll along the shore. An email came in about a Christening on my last Sunday here, so before settling down for the night, I responded to the request - another instance of a family catching up on essentials post covid. It's lovely to think these things still matter to some parents, given the drastic decline in Christian adherence across Europe this past forty years.

Mozart night at the proms

Awake before the alarm again today, and  ready to leave on time to collect Patricia and drive to San Pedro for the only Eucharist of the day. Again there were thirty of us, which included a family with four young children and another family with four teenage boys, a healthy mix for an ex-pat congregation. Time at last for a relaxed coffee after the service. 

We didn't use the video projector for the liturgy and hymns today, but booklets and mission praise, plus the rite A Common Worship Eucharistic Prayer based on the ancient text of Hyppolytus, widely used with minor variation among Catholics and Protestants, because it dates back to an era before there were divisions in the western church. It's certainly my favourite. 

I was back at the  house by a quarter to one and ended up having lunch much earlier than usual. Then there were a few emails to attend to, in preparation for next Sunday when we have a baptism at San Pedro during the service. It got me started on drafting a homily for that occasion. I'll need to do a separate one for the service at Sotogrande later in the week. I had a siesta until it started to cool down enough for it to be comfortable to walk along the senda litoral, chatting to Clare on WhatsApp for ages, while she was out walking in Llandaff Fields.

The BBC Proms live broadcast tonight was showcasing works by Mozart and featured Piano Concertos 20 and 22, with Leif Ove Andsnes directing the Mahler Chamber Orchestra from the piano keyboard. It was a powerful experience, especially in the light of my recent slide video creation of the fire photos I took, using a dramatic, dare I say fiery section of number 20's second movement. He played cadenzas I hadn't heard before which gave an extra richness as well as excitement to the performance. Shall I sleep after such stimulating music?

Spotlight on Estepona's lighthouse

Another humid day with mist on sea and sierras until the middle of the day. I worked on next Sunday's sermon, and on preparing the texts for next week's audio. I had a phone call from someone promoting a new health care facility launch locally, and understood what it was all about, but when I tried to respond to the caller, I couldn't be heard, and can't figure out whether I inadvertently muted the call or not, as there's no recognisable symbol on the handset. As for instruction manual in any language, you're joking!

I laughed when I received a TV licensing email thanking me for renewing the license. This time my email address wasn't entirely written incorrectly in upper case. It was still incorrect, but with an upper case first and last letter. What on earth is the matter with their system?

To go with a portion of the lentils with aubergine dish cooked yesterday, I stewed two chicken thighs with garlic, and risotto rice, An interesting lunch time combination of mild flavour and texture. Then I worked next week's biblical reflection, dozed for a while, then in a fit of zeal took the stuff for recycling down the hill, before setting out on my walk along the shore to the port and the lighthouse. El Faro de Punta Doncella, to give its full name. I found the history board about the lighthouse and understood the Spanish text well enough not to bother with the English alongside it. This gives me a good feeling.

Apparently the light is twinned with one of equal power in the Spanish enclave of Ceuta in Morocco, 62km away as the crow flies, across the other side of the Straights of Gibraltar. It dates from 1863, but was rebuilt in 1922 to raise the height of the light from 18m to 28m above sea level. A century later on, and it's undergoing restoration to re-use ancillary buildings which once accommodated the lighthouse keeper's family as a museum.

As I was walking back, families were making their way back from the beach to their accommodation. One reluctant little boy complained at having to quit the beach early. "Ya m'aburrido" I heard him say to his mother (I'm bored already!). I'm amazed at how late young children stay out and play, on or near the beach, but maybe this compensates for not being able to stay out when the heat of the day is fiercest. It's good that the place feels safe enough for this to happen, anxiety free.

I found a couple of letters in the mailbox when I returned. Bills to pass on to the treasurer. It's the first mail that's been delivered in the three weeks I've been here.

When we talked this evening, Clare reminded me about the return flight tickets, which I haven't looked at since I booked them two and a half months ago. A quick search retried the flight confirmation email to forward to her. It seems that I booked us both hold baggage on this flight, and for Clare outbound. I didn't bother on the way out as I was keen to travel light and not risk a long baggage queues. It's been so hot that I could have brought even less clothing with me, since regular hand washing of everything is vital, and it dries so quickly. At the moment the weather forecast indicates that it will stay between 29-31C by day for the rest of August, and little rain if any, except in the sierras on a cloudy day, but definitely not mainly on the plain in this part of Spain.

Digital suspicion

A cool breeze from the north west at the start of the day, still cloudy, but the clouds don't cover the Sierra Bermeja as they have over the weekend. After breakfast, I made a shopping list, ready for tomorrow, to be ready for a Mercadona visit, after the coffee morning at Sabinillas. Then I worked again on producing the liturgy texts for use at the altar which match the different booklets in use in the two churches - a question of cross checking the fine details. Version control - always a nightmare. 

Next Sunday we revert to using a hymn book and liturgy leaflet at San Pedro, and this is different again from what we've been using on the projector screen. Fortunately, it's the standard text of Common Worship rite A which I know by heart, more or less. More things to check out if worship is to run smoothly on a Sunday when the habitual way of doing things changes.

I had a strange email from the TV licensing authority while I was working, confirming a change in email contact address, the change being that the address I normally use was printed in upper case not lower, so I was immediately suspicious. especially when I had trouble logging in to my TV License account. 

Then it occurred to me to ask Clare if she'd found a paper license renewal in my snail mail, and then entered the account in order to pay it. And that turned out to be the reason I got an email. Now Gmail will receive any email addressed to me in upper case as well as lower, and even if the dot in the address is missing it will send it through. The system isn't perfect. I have a namesake who managed to register a Gmail address with no dot between forename and surname in the UK, despite the fact that I'd registered mine in Switzerland fifteen years ago. Occasionally, I still get my namesake's emails, without the dot in the middle.

Eventually I was able to log into the TV license account and re-affirm that the lower case version of my address is the correct one, but the confirmation of change email was still issued in upper case format. I was feeling frustrated by this - who's to know that one's account isn't being abused when a change you didn't authorise yourself takes place? 

It took me a half hour to succeed in registering a formal complaint to the Licensing Authority describing this, and reporting that unwittingly it arouses suspicion that makes the License account insecure. I'm promised a reply within a week. Let's see what they come up with to kick the complaint into the long grass, as that's what I expect to happen.

I had the pleasure of cooking and eating a swordfish steak with plain boiled veggies for lunch today. It made a change and got me into practise for when Clare comes, as that's one of her favourite dishes, a quick fry with oil, lemon and a smidge of black pepper. Perfecto!

After lunch I made a start on next Sunday's sermon, and when it had cooled down a little, I walked to the Carrefour Market to get some bananas and tomatoes, as I'd run out, and didn't want to wait until tomorrow big grocery shop. At 28C with a breeze it was pleasantly hot late afternoon. I went out again as the sun was setting for a walk along the sender littoral. It's a nice calming evening ritual , which I look forward to performing with Clare in a couple of weeks time.

Nearly late!

After a good nine hours of sleep I woke up just before the alarm again, and was on my way to collect Patricia at nine. Due to my choice of short hymns, we finished by ten to eleven and I was soon on my way to Sotogrande. I'm not sure what went wrong, I made it to the Estepona junction with the A7P and then took a wrong turning so I ended up going back to San Pedro on the toll road unable to turn around, and then setting out on the trip to Sotogrande a second time. 

Last week, I did this route on my own without any trouble. Somehow today I missed a vital sign at the correct junction. Although I set off ten minutes earlier than usual, this error was bound to make me late. I called Patricia and asked her to relay a message to Sotogrande that I'd be late, and resigned myself to the inevitable, having added an extra 45km to my commute. I was astonished to find when I reached my destination that it was only five to twelve, so we started on time anyway. I must try and figure out what I did wrong today, having got it right last week.

Another cloudy humid day with bright sunny spells pushing the temperature up to 31C after lunch, I didn't need a siesta so I completed work on next Thursday's prayer video, and revised the altar copy of text for use at Sotogrande. The two congregations have Eucharist booklet which are not completely the same, and both have too small a typeface to be much help to me, hands free at the altar. Separate large print versions are needed for everything to run without confusion.

Jobs done, I listened to Choral Evensong from Hereford Cathedral on BBC Sounds, lying on the bed in the heat, and inevitably fell asleep. It was nearly sunset by the time I went out for a walk, but it was cooler and more enjoyable walking the sender littoral for an hour. Clare called me on my way back. The signal was strong enough to sustain a WhatsApp call right to the front door, and then the line dropped as the house wi-fi started to compete for attention with the 4G cell signal. That happens in Meadow Street too, though the 4G signal as much poorer as Meadow Street is in the shadow of the BT/EE cell tower in Westgate Street. Nothing's perfect!

Old Estepona discovered at last

Today was cooler than yesterday 29C with a gentle breeze from the south. Having posted the link on WhatsApp for today's Morning Prayer before breakfast, afterwards I completed next week's Reflection, recorded it and the Office before lunch. The house was fairly quiet, although I was aware of noises from next door, as another holidaymaking family took up residence.

After a siesta, I walked to the Casco Viejo, a distance of about four and a half kilometres. There's a hill overlooking la Playa de la Rada where the Romans had an octagonal watch tower. This bay was the centre of the fishing industry, where fish caught were salted and dried for preservation, unless they were ground with olive oil into a pesto, regarded as a luxury food item in other part of the empire. On the same site a castle was built during the occupation of the Moors. The ruins of some of its stout walls are still imposing and the streets wrap around them, or lead up the hill to where the  municipal market stands, a post-war town hall, a large school, and a huge clock tower overlooking a square with a bandstand, ready equipped for a concert with rows of plastic chairs.

I didn't know where the Old Town was. It no longer dominates the skyline as it would have done until the holiday resort building boom filled all the low hills and valleys in the coastal plain beneath the huge Sierra Bermeja with high rise dwellings. Now it can't be seen until you reach its narrow streets of whitewashed casitas with iron window grills and balconies, decorated with flowers. Suddenly you're wandering around a typical old Andalusian pueblo blanco, quiet and clean, in refreshing contrast to the stark brutalism of so much of the twentieth century architecture around it. Such a pity it's an hour's walk to get there.

I returned in time for the Archers - yesterday's and today's - and then a light supper. In this hot weather I make sure to drink plenty of liquid, and seem to do well not eating quite as much as I usually do. While I still enjoy a glass of wine, my alcohol tolerance has dropped considerably. Light headedness I can do without. I need all my wits about me, living on my own with work to do. And more sleep too. It comes easily when the weather is warm.

¡Fuego!

I woke up and looked at my phone a minute before the alarm I'd set was due to sound. It's the second time that's happened. I collected Patricia at nine twenty and by half past we parked at the Parque Cementerio Santo Cristo de la Veracruz and already mourners were gathering. The crem has a large covered waiting area with seats and plants, several viewing rooms, and a chapel that will 140 at a guess. It was full. 

There was an order of service hymn sheet for people to join in, and my goodness they did, singing a couple of well known hymns and saying Amen to each prayer with gusto. That's an experience I've not had often in a crematorium service in the past thirty years. Most present were churchgoers or American Club members which meant that many knew each other well and were relaxed enough to express themselves at losing a good friend. 

I had emailed Rosella, who lives above Rincon, two hour's drive from here, and she came! A long standing friend of Lew's and American club member she was keen to make the effort. I missed her after the service, I suspect she went off to an American Club members' wake. The main body of English church members went to Rick's bar restaurant in the Marina. I joined them there for an hour, chatting with several people. The service was much appreciated. I was nervous about getting things right, but once I arrived there I was in my element, and able to give of my best. I was even able to make fair conversation in Spanish with the funeral guys, and be understood. Not that I will ever understand the bureaucracy involved!

After lunch I had a siesta. There was a very hot wind outside but with everything closed the house was relatively cool. About quarter to four I got up and started writing this blog. Then there was a series of loud percussive noises which sounded like a large volume of water being poured from a height. At ten two, I went downstairs to check and discovered the uncultivated hillside on the other side of the valley was on fire! What I was hearing was the sound of fire bursting out in new patches of vegetation. 

I called Patricia to find out the emergency number for the bomberos, but as we spoke the sound of sirens could be heard. The scorching west wind blew down the valley, but the fire went up it, against the wind incinerating about a square kilometre of grass and shrub, right up to the line of the houses on the top of the neighbouring hill. People poured out of their houses, took pictures, talked among themselves, then returned indoors. It was far too hot to stay outside for more than ten minutes. The last hour has been punctuated with the wailing of sirens.

The uphill lane of the autovia was closed off as the flames reached the top of the arroyo valley which it crosses. Then about half past five, a procession of helicopters started arriving with water buckets aiming for critical points in the fire path, augmenting the work of the ground based fire crews. Clouds of white, grey and black smoke rise up from different places along the hillside, but notably in the depth of the valley where the arroyo banks are populated with cane - probably sugar cane given the hint of sweetness on the breeze. Estepona bay was once an area of sugar cane plantations, cane grows wild here and may have been here before industrialisation.

The fire continues to blaze over the other side of the hill from here, behind the Policia Local compound and the urbanizacion beyond it. Patricia called to tell me. It's near where she lives. The prevailing wind has taken the fire away from where I'm staying for now. It'll be 32C tomorrow, but what about the wind?

By a quarter to seven the autovia's uphill lane had re-opened, and the symphony of emergency sirens was drawing to its end, the helicopters had watered the side of the road at the top of the hill where fire was still spreading. Over the brow of the hill is an industrial estate, and the huge Lidl I visited the other day on foot. The fire will not have gone close to the supermarket, but I'm not sure about some  warehouses. There has been a lot of thick black smoke along the brow of the hill. The fire has travelled the other side, and that's now where the helicopters are flying with the precious watery load. It's almost as quiet as usual, after three intense hours of watching and wondering. Which way will the fire go next time?

After a snack supper, it had cooled down enough to venture down the hill and take a few more photos of the scorched landscape. The bomberos were still working dampening down hotspots, taking a chainsaw to some remaining cane verges along the edge of the arroyo that has the un-made road, making a wider fire gap to protect this side of the valley. The fire ground is still cordoned off, including the housing area to which the fire came nearest, from where people had to be evacuated. Diario Sur Estepona reports that 600 people are being re-housed overnight for safety's sake at the Estepona's Palacio de Congresos. The thick black smoke at the brow of the hill was from a commercial storage yard for non-leisure specialised boats. I hope they're insured, or else that's several people's livelihood down the pan.

To get the burning smell from my nostrils, I took a walk along the sender litoral. The hot wind emptied the beach of people and made wavelets along an empty shore. Too hot and windy for paseo y charlar tonight. Helicopters still circulating, keeping the area under observation. The wind dying down could just change direction and fan up hidden embers for a re-match with the bomberos. 

It's been an exceptional experience, this afternoon, witnessing the teamwork between fire crews on the ground and in the air. What a day altogether, in fact.

Start the week housekeeping

Slightly cooler today but quite humid. After breakfast, I worked on my Sunday sermon and then on this Thursday's prayer video, which I finished and uploaded to YouTube before having lunch. Then I went and did my big weekly grocery shopping trip to Mercadona, as it wasn't too hot. Tomorrow afternoon is going to be 35C, time to hunker down. 

Before supper, I walked to the Marina to draw euros from the Santander ATM. The transaction fee is under five euros, but the current exchange rate is £189 for €200, the pound is so weak at the moment. I thought the limit was €300 but wasn't offer that amount, unless I missed it. But never mind, I can cover all my costs one way or another. My travel money card has been useful, and the app on my smartphone worth the memory it occupies.

I hadn't walked my full quota by the time I returned, and decided not to bother, as I was feeling footsore, perhaps due to the humidity. There were document to print out for Lew's funeral, and then early to bed, for a nine fifteen start. Putting out the rubbish and re-cycling can wait until tomorrow evening.

Full Sunday

On Sundays, I need to set an alarm, to make sure I have enough time to be out of the house by nine. This gets me out of bed at sunrise with everything ready to leave on time. Not my usual leisurely start to the day! I collected Patricia from the bus stop near her home and by twenty to ten we arrived at church. Most people already knew about Lew's unexpected death, and naturally needed to talk abut it. 

Just after we'd started Thea's mobile phone rang. She's the sort of person who'd never leave her phone on in church, but since early morning she'd been waiting for a call from the funeral directors about the precise timing of the service on Tuesday. She took the call very quietly. I think many people knew what was going on, and most wanted to know, but we waited until the end to inform everyone that the funeral would be at ten om Tuesday in Estepona's Tanatorium (aka crem.) I made reference to Lew in the sermon, and the lady leading the intercessions was prayed tearfully for Lew, and she wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes, He was much loved.

There were thirty of us in church, including five children. We finished just within the hour and by five past eleven I was on my way to Sotogrande for the midday service, but not before I dropped my reading glasses in the courtyard and both lenses popped out. I couldn't stop to fix them. It was the first time for me to drive the regular route to Sotogrande from San Pedro. It took just under forty minutes. Having done the journey and found the church two days running, the uncertainty about travel timing and finding my way on the last stretch is now alleviated. 

I had no success in fixing my proper glasses when I arrived and had to use my spare pair of cheap specs instead, and they weren't as good as they needed to be for customary reading text at arms length. While Geoff the churchwarden is away for the summer, the church reverts to using hymn books and service sheets, rather than projected slides as inn  San Pedro. This changes things, and I didn't have a complete service text to work from in a decently readable size, and they weren't words I knew by heart, to busk my way through. I got through OK, although I suspect my voice quality dropped when I was obliged to look down to read. It's one of the few times when impaired vision has been a factor undermining my ability to lead a service to my own satisfaction. This won't happen next time. I'll be better prepared.

There were seventeen of us for the Eucharist. Many are on holiday, some are self isolating because of covid contact or illness. A man I spoke to afterwards remembered I'd been a locum priest at St Andrew's Fuengirola, eight years ago, when both Costa del Sol chaplaincies had no priest. He'd been a church warden at the time and approached me to do a couple of wedding blessings down here. I was also asked to take a funeral at Manilva Tanatorio around the same time, but the next of kin lived beyond Málaga, and arranged for the service to take place near where the the deceased had spent her life.

I was back at the house by two, noticing when driving into the urbanización that it's not called 'Beverley Hills', but 'Beverly Hill'. Ooops! There was a lump meat in the freezer, but I couldn't tell what it was until it was defrosted. It turned out to be beef, something I've not eaten in the past three years, if not longer. I diced half of it up and stewed it with some vegetables alubia beans and a glass of Rioja to make my own version of a cazuelo. I was quite pleased at the result.

At four I had a visit from Thea and Patricia, to plan Lew's funeral service. When they took their leave I set about editing together the requisite sets of words, and an MP3 of a slow movement from a Mozart Piano concerto, for exit music. I'm not yet sure how this is all going to work out but one way or another it will. A pity that it's such short notice.

I left it until sunset to walk along the sender litoral, but it was cooler and refreshing after another humid hot day. I caught part of a crimmie on ITV set in the South of France. It's made entirely in English, and this seems so odd, a characterless throwback to long gone decades of movie making. By way of contrast 'The Archers' has gone bi-lingual with the birth of Tom and Natasha's twin daughters. Our Mam has come to stay, and there's Welsh conversation between them, oh so correct, with no borrowed English words, not really that true to life, but so nice to hear on national radio. I bet there's be complaints.

A community bereaved

Patricia called after breakfast this morning, shocked to have just learned that Lew died early this morning. Another member of the congregation had gone to visit him in hospital around nine, only to learn what had happened, and then spread the sad news by WhatsApp. As he had a funeral plan in place, arrangements for cremation are already taking shape, with Tuesday morning in mind. 

Sunday last, Lew led the intercessions at the San Pedro Eucharist, sitting in his place rather than at the lectern. His strength was failing even then, as witnessed by his voice, less deep and resonant than usual. When I heard yesterday that pneumonia was supected, my first thought was the saying I learned in childhood without knowing just what it meant "The pensioner's friend." He's been around on the Costa del Sol for forty years, and very much an Elder of the ex-pat community, so his funeral will be well attended, short notice notwithstanding.

After several days of fruitless hunting, I accidentally came across the chaplaincy's wedding registers, not in the file box marked 'Weddings', but in a 'Pending' file tray. This was such a relief and just in time. After a light lunch, I double checked my kit for the wedding and set off for Sotogrande at half past one. Without any problems I retraced the route taken and memorised earlier in the week and arrived thirty five minutes later, which gave me a good amount of time to arrange and check all things necessary for the celebration. Despite the heat, all went well and we started at ten past three.

We had a duet of violinists playing chosen pieces of classical music during the service. They were loud in a church with resonant acoustics, more than I expected. They seemed not to be used to accompanying congregational hymns or expecting congregational singing to be introduced. I didn't get a chance to brief them as they were busy rehearsing until the wedding couple arrived. I wondered if they had been briefed and wish now that I had. At the end of the service Widor's Toccata was played as a recessional on a powerful piece of hi-fi kit, too loud and too fast - to be endured rather than enjoyed. Quite a good way to drive the congregation out of the building.

Once I'd put furniture back where I found it, and gathered up my possessions to leave, the florists were arriving to bedeck the church for the next wedding at five. By five, I was back at the house receiving a call from Thea about Lew. She'd been to visit him last night, and was distressed by his distress, certain that he was dying wanting her to stay. They talked again by phone at midnight, after she reached home, and he was calm again, at peace with himself. Learning of his death came as a shock, as she thought he was over the worst. And in a sense, he was, his fears faced in the company of a Christian friend, able to let go and be taken from this world. 

I was much moved by what Thea told me. It's not the first time I've heard stories like this. People look out for each other here and care for each other in a natural way. You can't really train for this kind of lay ministry, it's a pastoral gift from the Spirit to those who keep the faith together and love each other. I've stopped worrying about the future of the church with declining numbers of clergy. Somehow that will sort itself out in the period of agonising change endured nowadays. Baptized members of the body of Christ will continue to exercise pastoral ministries among themselves, sometimes without realising they are doing so. But they still need to be told how the Good News is working itself out through their self effacing efforts.

After supper as the sun was setting I walked along the beach. For the first time in the 'charco' at the mouth of the rio Guadolbón, I saw half a dozen turtles and some fish. I've seen them in similar settings in Fuengirola, Málaga, Mojácar and Costa Azahar over the years. It's wonderful the waters aren't so polluted with agricultural products that they no longer sustain life. Perhaps it's something to do with the mountainous terrain that produces these rivers.

I completed my Sunday sermon and printed it off a couple of days ago, but in the light of Lew's death I thought I could make a few changes with out making it much longer, so I've weaved a brief tribute into a sermon about the Lord's Prayer.

Destination Estepona

I was up breakfasting at five fifteen. Richard arrived at ten to six to take me to the airport. So did a taxi, whose robotic calling system I fell foul of last night. It took my address, but not my destination, and did not confirm the pick up time. If only it had, I could have spared Richard this extra early morning errand. I explained to the taxi driver what had happened and asked if he would give feedback to the company's call handlers about their robot. By half past six I was waiting in the airport for the check-in desk to open, which it did, half an hour earlier than the time printed on the boarding pass. By just after seven I settled down for the long wait until boarding was announced at five to nine. The flight took off on time and landed twenty minutes early. What a great start to the day!

My passport was stamped for this first time in decades. The stamp is illegible, but apparently serves to flag up the fact that I have entered a EU country. My passport was scanned and the electronic date stamp entered in the system, on arriving and leaving showing how many of the ninety days allowed to stay without a visa in a hundred and eighty days have elapsed. Clever, but sad. Damned brexit.

Joseph and Anne greeted me at the arrival gate and took me to the Chaplain's residence in an urbanizacion named 'Beverley Hills', apt for a hilltop cluster of houses in an area where, like America, little walking is done and most people get around by car. Patricia welcomed me and briefed me about the house. The only food lacking in well stocked cupboards was bread, fresh fruit and veg, so Patricia guided me down the A7 expressway a couple of kilometres to shop at the most convenient Mercadona. The car, a Renault Megane is modern enough to have an electronic key system, which took some getting used to, plus the fact that it's somewhat bigger than a VW Polo. All part of the adventure.

Patricia left me for a tea-time cita, then I unpacked my laptop and completed this Thursday's Morning Prayer video with a selfie taken on the bedroom balcony, overlooking Estepona Bay, with Gibraltar on the near horizon and Morocco somewhat more distant, neither of them visible with the heat haze at the moment. Then I cooked a veggie pasta supper, making enough for two days. Afterwards I went for a walk and discovered that from the bottom of the hill entrance to the urbanizacion it's only ten minutes to the coastal sendero along a sandy shore. I also followed a path alongside a dry river bed inland, up a valley at the base of the hill. It doesn't take long to get away from roads and the built up area into the countryside..

I returned to the house at dusk, had a WhatsApp call with Clare, then unpacked, finally ready to slow down and sleep.