Even longer nights from now

After a good long sleep, Clare cooked us waffles for breakfast. Then she and Owain loaded the stewed crab apples with added cloves and lemons into a straining bag and hung it up for the juice to drip through. This produced three pints of liquor during the day, with a little extra bag squeezing at the end. Boiled up with a couple of pounds of sugar this produced nine jars of crab apple jelly. While this was cooking  I sieved the remaining fruit to produce several pounds of spicy apple puree, which can be used to spread on toast for breakfast, and baked into a pie. A wonderful return for the effort of harvesting and cooking.

Cousin Godfrey's funeral was this morning, and I was sorry not to be able to attend, but included prayers for him in saying the daily office. That's three family funerals in a row I've missed, two because of covid and one now because of the distance and time available for travel 

I got started on a sermon for tomorrow before we went to The Conway for a pub lunch: chicken curry for me, fish and chips for Clare and Owain and beer all round. Then we went into town, as Owain wanted to shop for a jacket in John Lewis. We then parted company and he went off to meet a friend, before returning to Bristol, so we had a drink in the cafeteria and then took the bus home. 

As we walked past a small joke cum novelty costume shop opposite the Castle, it was impossible to ignore the thirty yard queue of young people of student age outside, waiting to get into the store and be served. All were looking for something bizarre to wear for this Hallowe'en weekend. Astonishing to think how an old children's folk custom has developed into yet another consumer-fest of negligible value or interest. On arriving home we heard the news of a hundred and fifty four  young people dying in Seoul Korea, crushed in an excited crowd pressing through an alleyway in a night club district while out Halloween partying. It's a terrible tragedy, arising from the hype of consumerism - a new idolatry that consumes its worshippers by inflaming passions. A sad symptom of this passing age.

As the sun was setting I walked in the park for an hour and took some nice photos of a red and grey evening sky. After supper, I watched another double episode of Norwegian crimmie 'Wisting', then completed a sermon for tomorrow before turning the clocks back, and turning in too late to benefit from an extra hour in bed. At least I have a later start tomorrow morning, in any case.

Ahead of the coming festal season

The weather is truly autumnal now, bright and dry with temperatures around freezing at night rising to ten centigrade in the afternoon, just what you'd hope for as November arrives. I celebrated the Vigil of All Saints at St Catherine's this morning with a dozen people. Clare, taking advantage of half term holidays, started buying and preparing ingredients for Christmas puddings, four weeks before Stir Up Sunday arrives. 

With school, singing and choir commitments on top of present buying and usual routine activities, she's quite busy getting stuff done early to relieve the pressure on the run up to the festive season. I help with some domestic shopping and cooking. This afternoon I walked four miles along the Taff and back to Canton Bridge. It's the furthest I've walked since returning from Montreux, and I am pleased with this, keen to regain summer fitness after much idleness and languishing. Thankfully, coping with inflammation and wound management isn't taking so much out of me now.

I was overjoyed to learn from today's news of a technological breakthrough made by researchers into spinal injuries associated with the University Hospital of Lausanne, which enables paraplegics to learn to walk again. It seems that even when a spinal cord sustains damage that causes paralysis, a weak neural signal is still transmitted along it. An electronic device has now been devised to amplify this signal and relay it to the brain from the other side of the damaged vertebra. It means an injured person with this device attached to them can be taught to walk unsupported. Amazingly, the activity which device usage enables is able to stimulate a measure of regeneration of the spinal cord. It's still at the early stages of development, but a transformational breakthrough that will bring a new kind of hope to paraplegic sufferers. Film footage of a patient doing walking practice was taken on a lakeside footpath, with recognisable views of the Swiss Jura behind. Instant nostalgia for me.

There was a Parish Hallowe'en Party and bonfire at St Catherine's in the evening, but we didn't go, as being in a crowd with lots of excited children lacks appeal at the moment. Nevertheless, we had a visit from one small group of kids with their parents, out trick or treating. A small dose, just enough seasonal delight to be going on with.

  

Walking again to Mojácar Pueblo

Again I was up and about before dawn this morning, but sunrise was at half past eight, local time. It's just as well that I don't have any early starts here. The clock goes back tonight, and adjusting to the change of hour won't be so critical as when I return home in just over two weeks, and have to put the clock back another hour. Oh those afternoon sunsets, and dark by half past four! I don't look forward to that.

After breakfast, I sat out on the balcony with the telescope on its proper tripod, so I could use it to spot birds a good hundred metres away. I identified a collared dove, both from appearance and its characteristic call, which is different from that of a turtle dove. Yet, according to my bird book, the turtle dove is supposed to be common here as the collared dove is in the UK. The book, however, was published over thirty years ago, and things have changed in that time.

The weather seemed good for another walk up to Mojácar Pueblo, this time using the shortcut over the back road I discovered last week. It took me just under an hour and a half. When I arrived in the Plaza with the large mirador looking out across the coastal plain to the north, I was surprised to find that since my last visit it has been closed, surrounded by heras fencing, and transformed into a building site. There were groups of puzzled tourists somewhat crammed into the remaining half of the plaza nearest the shops. Not what they expected either? 

For a while, I wondered if there'd been some sort of disaster there, but then I saw an Ayantamiento notice announcing closure of a few back streets due to the demolition and 'sustucion' of the Plaza. Google translate was unable to help me with this word, but when I was about to set off on the return journey, I saw a large information panel near the bus stop announcing the demolition and 'suscitución' (=substitution, i.e. replacement) of the Plaza. The puzzling word was no more than a municipal typo.

In the Plaza there's a redundant ermita, which has been turned into a souvenir shop. I went in this time, as it was open, and looked at the collection of small silver 'indalo' images, which I'd discussed with Clare as possible Christmas presents for Rhiannon and Jasmine. After a WhatsApp phone discussion with Clare, I bought two pairs, to use for earrings, rather than single ones to hang on chains.

I visited the Parish Church again to see if there was an advertised time for Tuesday's Todos Santos Mass, but could find no information. Nevertheless, I enjoyed a quiet time therein, until a tour party arrived, led by a priest. Then I sat outside in the Plaza de Iglesia with a beer and a warm tortilla tapa, watching people coming and going for a while. Then I wandered about in a part of the town I'd not gone through before found some streets with views on the highest elevation of the pueblo, facing the sea. At the top is a Plaza del Castillo, although nothing visible now remains of the mediaeval Moorish fortress.

For the return trip, I chose to re-trace my steps on the route I took on the first walk up to the pueblo. As my legs were already well stretched and tired, the descent to the plain was quite steep in places and uncomfortable to walk. I glimpsed several interesting birds on the route, but I identified only a crested lark as it ran away from me along a side path.

By the time I reached the apartment, I was quite footsore, perhaps because I wore my walking shoes for my nearly four hour expedition, rather than the usual sandals. That's only the second time I've worn them since travelling in them, so my feet were unused to the change from sandals, even though the shoes are comfortable to walk in.

After cooking lunch and a siesta, I realised I there was some weekend shopping to do. I couldn't face the usual four kilometre walkabout to the Mercadona, so rather than do without until Monday, guiltily I took the car. Apart from the rare convenience store, shops and supermarkets here are shut on Sundays now. I'm not sure what happens in high season. 

The roads have certainly been busier yesterday and today with the influx of people taking a break for Todos Santos. Hallowe'en silliness doesn't play such a prominent part here as it does in Britain and other places where culture has been poisoned by American marketing hype. It's a relatively recent introduction. The custom of visiting family graves, tidying them up, leaving flowers, and even having a picnic party there, is still widely practised in Spain. Death is accepted more as a part of life, rather than the subject of fear and supernatural fantasies. It's altogether healthier, in my opinion, than what has sadly become normalised in northern European countries.

Ascent to Istan

Having spent a good deal of yesterday and this morning cleaning the house and preparing for the arrival of Fr Hywel tomorrow evening, I felt it was time for one last outing with a camera. So, I drove down the N-340 to Marbella, then turned inland to ascend to the hill village of Istan, which stands at 600m at the top of a valley in the biosphere park of the Sierra de las Nieves, about 15km above the conurbation. For about 8km below the village the steep sided valley has been transformed by a dam into a huge lake, providing a major water supply for the region. 

Vehicle access to the lake is officially restricted but large numbers of people visit for family outings, or else for bird watching. Without a guide, to help find a proper parking place, and avoid getting lost on the multitude of forest trails in the surrounding environment, I decided to give the nature walk a miss on this occasion, and drove all the way up  to the beautifully maintained village, perched on a high ridge, overshadowed by gaunt grey peaks of 2,500m. Forestry, horticulture and now eco-tourism have enabled this place to thrive and even grow in recent decades, so there are plenty of new buildings in the traditional Andalusian 'white village' style, that blend in nicely. You can see my photos here.

On my first stay in Fuengirola, I drove along the high road from Coin to Marbella to discover Monda, and the remotely located Refugio de Juanar with its spectacular views out across the sea from 900m. I noticed there a walker's trail signpost showing Istan as the next destination, 10km away. That's stayed on my to-do list ever since, but there's been no opportunity of company to share it with with. Very glad to have seen Istan, however.

Well, there's been a modest amount of Hallowe'en hype in the shops, even our local Granier pasteleria had a few fake cobwebs hung over its wall lights. So incongruous in such a bright clean eaterie. There were no kids out in the dark trick or treating, that I noticed in our urbanizacion however, and yes there are a few families living in the neighbourhood, or visiting at weekends with young children.