Mistaken on all counts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

San Isidro arrival for Owain

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

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

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

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

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

Deadline missed and regained

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

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

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

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

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

Digital Pickpocket?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ascensiontide Christian Aid Week

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

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

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

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

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

Travel perfecty timed, by chance

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

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

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

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

Low tide, Penarth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Appointment frustrations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home run for Ascension

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dia del Mercadillo, Nerja

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

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

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

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

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

Berejenas is off, luv

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

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

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

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

Sunday frustration

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mystery of Monica

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seafood Tapas

A pleasantly warm and sunny day with washing to do and hang out after breakfast. Then a drive into Nerja to visit the shop and chat for while. We had some shopping in Mercadona on the way back to the car, and called in to the small Pescaderia el Artesano in Calle del la Cruz in the town centre. As well as fresh fish, you can have a drink with a fishy tapa and a racion or tapa of anything you fancy from the stock of fish on the counter, freshly cooked. It was quiet when we got there and ordered, but within minutes each table was filled with chatting customers. Our tapa was a dish of berberechos (cockles), tiny in comparison to British ones boiled and flavoured with lemon.

It was quite noisy in a confined space, but never mind. We had a dish of British sized patatas fritas between us, unbelievably light and crisp, thanks to whatever cooking oil is used. Clare had Rosada, and as usual, I had deep fried Sardinas - no batter, fresh and juicy. Simple, effective. We both ate well, for half the cost in a more formal restaurant. The fresh taste of seafood doesn't get any better than this.

In addition to getting food at Mercadona, we had to buy washing machine cleaning fluid and detergent. Towels aren't coming out smelling as fresh as they could. Routine maintenance is inescapable when you take over a church provided house for a couple of months' locum duty. There were some clothes to wash by had when we got back. Clare went for a swim, and then I made a video slideshow for Ascension Day Morning Prayer and uploaded it to YouTube. This month it's three years since I started doing this regularly, though I had previously covered for Mother Frances, but then she had the idea of delegating the task on four weekdays, with her and Fr Rhys covering the other two, and I've done it ever since without missing a week. 

This small piece of creativity has become part of my spiritual discipline, but I have little idea of what use it is to followers, and wonder how many followers there really are.  YouTube viewing statistics may not paint the whole picture if it's possible for people to view without this being recorded. I admit I have doubts about it, but neither can I envisage what might replace it, to represent the on-going prayer life of the local church community, listening to and learning from scripture - which is after all, the point of the exercise.

We had a salad supper, followed by a walk down to the bins with the re-cycling, and for a while on the senda litoral. There have been strong gusts of wind this evening driving away high cloud accumulated in the afternoon. Finally an hour with the last section of my Spanish novel until I started nodding off, unusually tired at the end of this day.

Time out

Mayday is a public holiday. The huge building site on the hill above is silent today. A rainy morning, it persisted all the way when I drove Ann to Malaga airport after breakfast. I used the Express Parking facility to drop her off at departure level, Within a few minutes we were on our way again without having to pay for parking. A real motivation for precise timed access to collect or drop off a traveller. Her flight was delayed an hour and a half.

After a salad lunch, Clare went for a swim and I recorded the Ascension Day Morning Prayer texts I'd prepared. Then a walk to the senda litoral which took me as far as Playa Playazo and back. It's nearly 2km long with the mix of grey limestone sand and pebbles that prevails in this area. With water is very clear and shelves deeply, so not that attractive to families with children, so there's no competition for a place in the sun.

When I got back I worked on next Sunday's sermon while Clare cooked tuna with veg for supper. Then we walked up the hill to catch the evening sun before it disappeared below the far horizon. Clare collected a handful of pale lilac flowers which grow in abundance on the hillsides here. I think they are Asters of some kind. They now sit on the dining table in a tall drinking glass.

This evening for the first time since I arrived, I took out my Spanish novel, relaxed and read for an hour before bed.