State of Alarm - day Ninety

I woke up after a comfortable night's sleep, prayed, ate my breakfast sandwiches, and was paying my bill dead on time to take a taxi to the airport at ten to nine. The vast area of check-in desks at Terminal One was almost deserted, just one slim queue visible for a Vueling internal flight. I had to hunt to find the British Airways check-in desk, having been waved roughly in the right direction by one of many masked officers, either Proteccion Civile or Policia. The desk wasn't yet open but one check-in clerk was briefing another about the flight, as I arrived, second in the queue.

Then three cops arrived with a big burly middle aged Brit and a lady, who might have been a spouse or an interpreter. This party jumped the queue, and the guy who was the centre of attention produced a sheaf of papers which he handed over to the check-in clerk. After a few minutes they were handed back to him with what looked like a couple of tickets. At a guess, I suspect he was under arrest, due to appear in court, and would miss his flight unless he could change his ticket. By a quarter to ten, I had been checked in an given a paper ticket. The clerk wasn't interested in in the boarding pass that I displayed on the BA smartphone app, especially installed. With so few customers, there was no need for modern smart solutions to old ticketing requirements.

This time I was ready to pass through security and did so smoothly. I had an hour to wait for the flight boarding gate to be announced, and spent the time walking the vast length and breadth of the almost deserted wings of Terminal One Sector D, and taking photos of this uniquely empty place. You can see them here.  Today's flight destination board showed fifteen flights scheduled instead of a daily total of over seven hundred. Six of these were internal flights and nine international. 

Today the suspension of the Schengen open borders policy is lifted, though I suspect it will take some time to be implemented on every means of transport. Looking at the people waiting to board our flight to Heathrow, travellers seemed to be mainly domestic rather than business users - people like me wanting to get back to their families after lock-down. If any holidaymakers were travelling, it's more likely they'd be people stuck in Spain an now returning, than people going on leave. 

For the moment, despite the media talking up the prospects of summer holiday travel, nervousness is more likely to inhibit all but the ignorant and the daredevil from leisure travel at the moment. The one exception is perhaps those who have holiday homes in another country, and the traffic for those who can afford it, is two way. I suspect it will be a while longer before things really start to get really busy again at airports around the world. More and more people are wondering - is my journey really necessary?

As I board the 'plane, I wonder how long it will be before I get to visit Spain again. A country that I've so much grown to love in the past twenty years. My long locum days are probably over, as I'm now more conscious of the risk of being away on my own, and can't expect Clare to put her life and work on hold for an extended period to suit me. So who knows what the future will hold?

We arrived ten minutes early in Heathrow Terminal Five. It's a long walk to baggage reclaim, made more difficult to know where your baggage carousel is, as there are so few travellers in this vast public area. Normally you just follow the herd of people you vaguely recall as being on your flight to find the place. I missed it altogether and had to back track to find it.

After a long walk to the arrivals gate, and then another walk in the car park, Kath and I met in level three, which was 5-10% occupied by vehicles. By a quarter past four we were in Meadow Street back in Cardiff, after a smooth journey home. We were both struck by the amount of speed limited roadworks on the M4 as far as Reading. In addition to road widening, new new digital infrastructure is being install to control the heavy commuter traffic flows into London from a 50 mile radius. What we don't yet know is what impact this pandemic will have on this state of affairs. It seems that the lock-down is demonstrating the benefits of working from home to new people, who may well decide this offers a better quality of life than driving to an office every day. We shall see!

After a cup or tea and some cake, Kath headed off for Kenilworth. I spent the evening adjusting to life in our attic bedroom under lock-down. I'm unused to such a limited space, and unpacking was a nightmare. Where to put everything in my suitcase? And now I have to bring my one miserable Windows 10 computer up to day, which will take many hours and hog internet connectivity until it has done its thing.

Apart from that, and the on-going battle to overcome Covid-19, all manner of things are well in my small world. I have been blessed by a smooth well organised three stage journey home, surrounded by the good-will and prayers of so many people in Spain, Britain and elsewhere. It'll take me quite a while to digest all I have learned. Thank you friends everywhere!

Hmm - when I wake up tomorrow, my life will no longer be governed by Spain's declared 'State of Alarm'. The UK government's general crisis management seems dangerously sloppy in contrast to Spain and other EU nations. What have I come home to? How do I entitle my blog from tomorrow? I'll have to sleep on it.

  

State of Alarm - day Eighty Eight

Another blue sky sunny day. BBC Radio Four Sunday Worship was from Westminster Cathedral this morning, Mass offered by Cardinal Vincent Nicholls with two socially distanced assistants. It's such a huge church building, that with a priest at the altar and assistants at lecterns on either side, there could be ten metres between each of them! Previous recordings of the Ordinary of the Latin Mass sung in situ by the Cathedral choir made it special, and the Cardinal preached well, remembering the victims of the Grenfell tower tragedy on this the third anniversary and reflecting on the shared experience of doing without the Eucharist and Communion over the past three months, just as the churches are allowed once more to be open for private prayer.

Rosi came around for a farewell chat at midday, reminding me that hereafter I will be known as the 'Lockdown Locum Chaplain', whether anyone remembers my name or not. I cooked curried chicken and potatoes for lunch, and made a starter using mussles, olives and chopped apples. Interesting!

After siesta I walked down to Cala de Bou again and along the shoreline to Cala des Torrents. After some days of absence the little colony of cormorants was back on their rocky outcrop in  the sea. I photographed them just before lock-down three months ago, and now again on my farewell visit. Clare sent me a photo showing a cormorant on a stony shoal in the river Taff, plus the Goosander family which lives there, near the cricket ground, if my memory serves me right.

I completed and printed off the UK government form required for entry at Heathrow so I can be traced in quarantine. The instruction says you can keep it on your 'phone, supposedly if you can't get a print out. Three sheets of A4! It's illegible on anything but a tablet to anyone checking at Border control. Why on earth the can't reduce the essential details it to a QR code that can be scanned from your phone or a piece of paper, like with an airline ticket, heaven knows. A nicely laid out Web 2 style form, leading to a finish that's more trouble than it's worth. All I need now is my boarding pass for the UK bound flight, available tomorrow morning I think, then I am fully ready.

I've made up two thirds of a loaf of rye bread into jamon and hummous sandwiches to sustain me during my sojourn, then I don't have to go out and look for food, effectively quarantining myself in Barcelona to be on the safe side. Then there was the food cupboard to sort out, so unopened packets can be kept in store and opened ones given away. The house is going to be shut down until the next locum can arrive safely, probably in the autumn. Such a strange turn of events.

State of Alarm - day Eighty Six

Another hot blue sky sunny day with a cooling light wind. When I got up to take my six o'clock antibiotic, a solitary blackbird was singing in the ravine beyond the garden, such a joy at this early hour. I was saddened to learn from Clare that my sister Pauline is still with us, but in such pain as her cardio-vascular system deteriorates, that she is now sedated with morphine. A plan to move her to a nursing home near Nicky's home is planned, but would she survive the journey? All we can do is keep watching and praying.

Before turning in last night, after surveying the fresh vegetable content of the fridge, I decided on impulse to cook a chick pea stew for the weekend. The idea, to use up as much as I could, in order to clear the contents and not have to throw food away at the last minute before leaving. I certainly have enough to feed Anthony and I for Saturday and Sunday.

Today Di invited us out to lunch at the Restaurant de Valle, popular with expat residents near Cala des Torrents. Clients are few and far between at the moment, but the place stays open for business, as apparently it through the winter, before lock-down enforced closure. I had sweet and sour pork ribs, followed by pork medallions (again) but in quite a different sauce, made with capers I think, and tarte tatin to follow. Again, it was a good meal in good company. Most enjoyable.

I finished the second course of antibiotics at lunchtime. On sister in law Ann's recommendation I'll continue with the three days surplus supply rather than take a break and wait to see what develops. I feel much better, and the wound is almost back to normal, but the swelling has not gone entirely and exudation hasn't stopped. If I get home as planned the antibiotics in my blood stream should keep me covered until further treatment is possible.

I had another visit from Elke at tea time, bringing a punnet of strawberries and a typical Ibiceno almond flavoured pastry, which I hadn't tasted before. We discussed the impact of the lock-down on the way we experience the world, and what it is teaching us about ourselves. Then we walked to the end of the track and back before parting company.

As I am obliged to submit details of my location during the fortnight's quarantine I have to endure on my return, I hunted down the required form on the internet and began to fill it in. Completion is impossible until 48 hours before the flight, just as in the same way you cannot check in on-line with BAe flights to obtain a boarding pass until 24 hours before. All this digital bureaucracy and there is still no guarantee the plane will fly as scheduled.

After supper to complete my daily distance, I walked down to the shore to catch the sun setting over the sea, but I was too late. I got just a few photographs instead of a lovely red tinged sky with slim strands of stratus clouds instead.

It's a hundred days today since I arrived in Ibiza. How the world has changed since then.

   

State of Alarm - day Sixty Four

A beautiful hot summery day today, bright sunshine and blue skies, with the temperature rising to 26c, just the way I like it. Perfect for celebrating Ascension Day. For the first time in a couple of months I saw the condensation trail of a high flying jet crossing the sky, north west to south west. Just the one long distance flight. In the past couple weeks I've seen a small pale green prop driven monoplane flying around and wondered what it was doing. I've recently learned that it's on fire watch. 

There are observation towers out in forest high places, staffed at critical dry times in the year, but also this aircraft which patrols over the entire island, sometimes responding to complaints about local fires. Farmers will tidy up their land and burn what they don't need and can't store in spring until the end of April, early May, but then the land dries out and the fire risk rises, so burning is banned, and the man in the 'plane keeps an eye on all the vulnerable places.

Palm Sunday weekend, I did a little video in which I blessed this year's Palm Crosses and proposed that they could be received once the lock-down was over. We had no idea then when it would happen but it this year's cross, although it looks like every other, would hold special memories of a time in our journey of faith unlike any other. With easing of restrictions allowing small domestic gatherings it was possible to invite church members to come and collect theirs from the Chaplaincy House and stop for a drink and a chat, while observing social distancing - possible because of the generous and sunny front terrace. During the morning half a dozen people came. I enjoyed meeting new people and the conversations we had. Hopefully this will continue next week and thereafter.

When I checked my phone before lunch afterwards, there was another text message from British Airways cancelling the flight booked for 8th June, That's the fourth. Kath once more undertook to source another flight for me. It's impossible to have any confidence in BAe commitment to serve their European clientele, so she has booked me on a Jet2 flight to Birmingham on 18th June. This flight has been bookable for the past month, once Jet2 announced that they would resume services mid month, in line with the resumption of Schengen open borders policy.

British Airways has been proposing flights and then cancelling them without recourse to the facts. Ibiza airport re-opened to commercial flights last Monday, a date announced only last week, so it's clear that BAe has been speculating and playing with its customers once it has taken their money. It's really shameful behaviour for a flagship British institution. To hell with them. I won't trust them to get me home after this. Ever. I am going to see if I can get his matter raised in Parliament, as the lack of honesty is going to undermine any attempts to keep out airline industry afloat.

Later in the afternoon, I walked down to Cala des Torrents, and found a road I hadn't been on before which linked up with roads I had been on before, so another small piece of my map of the areas falls into place. I made a few pots of strawberry jam after supper, having been given a large punnet of strawberries in the morning by one kind visitor, too many to eat while in their best condition but perfect with a couple of lemons from the tree outside for turning into a fragrant flavoursome jam. Now that's something I didn't expect to be doing when I woke up on Ascension morning! Amazing that this morning I should also be given a fresh baked batch of scones by another visitor. My cup runneth over!

   

State of Alarm - day Sixty One

A good night's sleep, and a quiet time of worship, which included listening to BBC Radio Four's Sunday Service, as well as praying the Offices of Matins and Holy Communion. This morning radio service reflected on the seven fold gifts of the Spirit, and offered profound food for thought. 

Prepared by a Scottish team, it's the second time in recent weeks that I've listened to a non liturgical non-Eucharistic act of worship from Catholic presenters. As there are plenty of on-line streamed Masses available for people to attend, it's really good Catholic broadcast media isn't duplicating these offerings but creatively stepping out of comfortable routine, drawing on the immense wealth of spirituality which perhaps would only be easily accessible to people in an organised retreat, or else willing to go on line and hunt for it. It's true we've all got more time to think at the moment, what's impressive is the quality of the offerings being made by faith communities.

This morning the impulse returned to work on my short-story-turned-into-a-novel again. I had intended to write more while I was here but this is only the second time I have loaded the file in fifteen weeks. Funny how it's possible to get into the flow write thousands of words and forget to insert chapter headings! That's where I left it back in February. What I needed to do, was to help Clare who is reading the first draft to navigate the second half of the 73k words of text.

When I was out walking yesterday I understood what I needed to write in order to turn the story towards conclusion. I only had a vague idea up until now. It's grown and grown as the lives of the characters have unfolded in my imagination since I started writing seven months ago. It was quite a surprise that it developed the way it did, and so easily.

I found it refreshing to work on something different and creative, just for the sake of it. Eventually I went out for my daily walk, and just had enough time for supper before our family Zoom call, so refreshing to see them all enjoying each other's company again.

Confirmed in the news this evening is that the Spanish government is re-opening eight airports to commercial flights as of tomorrow. Ibiza is one of them. The national State of Alarm with phased removal of restrictions depending on regional infection rates, and government powers to act without consultation have been further extended for two weeks, so there's no guarantee that airport opening will not be reversed if conditions require. Does it mean British Airways will now honour my home flight booking for the 8th June? I don't trust them. Pero ya veremos.

  

State of Alarm - day Fifty Nine

Another decent night's sleep, but waking up feeling tired again. I continued working on the Sunday service service after breakfast, and not long after I'd got started, I had another text message from British Airways to say that my flight into London City Airport on June 1st is cancelled. Before my head stated spinning with that 'out of control' feeling of anxiety - which I didn't need with half a day's work ahead of me and not much energy left after Wednesday's airline fracaso, I took Kath up on her promise to deal with re-booking, and fight my corner for me, and forwarded the text message to her immediately.

Perhaps it is because she has fast broadband and is in the UK, or because BAe have fixed their page loading problem, but this time she got on to the re-booking page immediately, and booked a place on a IBX-LCY flight on June 8th instead. That's now three cancellations in ten days.

Will June 8th be repatriation day? I have no confidence left in BA's proposals. No doubt the changing statistics of the pandemic both in Ibiza and UK create new uncertainties all the time. There are probably not enough people wanting to fly in or out of Ibiza to London to make the cost of a two way flight with social distancing viable.

Schengen open border provisions are supposed to be resumed on June 15th, and after that date some measure of a return to scheduled flights is being proposed. We'll see if it's delivered by any airline, let alone BA. If only they had enough moral integrity as a company to advise people of the fluidity of the situation. They'll take your money and cancel your flight often enough to make you wonder if you'd unwittingly fallen into one of those covid-19 scams.

This means I'll have to obtain prescription medication again, and this time around wound dressings as well, as I am likely to run out of all I brought with me by then. I have made a two month's supply stretch to three so far, as the wound has been easier to manage. Meanwhile I have to cope with the emotional exhaustion associated with such a roller-coaster ride, and it's certainly taking it's toll on me. If I wasn't fit and well enough to get two hours of fresh air and exercise each day, I dread to think what kind of state I'd be in. Space to adjust and resign myself to a situation I have no control over, is all I need at the moment.

Once I'd completed most of the work needed on the Sunday service, I walked to Sumo supermarket to get a few things I couldn't find at Es Cuco, and returned with a heavy rucksack of supplies to see me through the weekend. Staff there are also cheery and pleasant. No doubt they are glad to be able to work when so many cannot. The positivity of people in the face of such a deadly crisis with such an uncertain future ahead is quite inspirational. I wonder what it's like in BA's back offices?

State of Alarm - day Fifty Seven

After breakfast Solveig arrived to take me on a 10km hike to the summit of St Josep sa Talaia, the 475m peak which overlooks the whole island. The 'Talaia' part is a contraction of 'Tailaissa', a Catalan word for a watchtower, applied to tallest peaks in a region. Not only is this one the highest in Ibiza, but also in the Balearics. Another warm sunny day with superb visibility for the climb. 

Relaxation of restrictions now allows two of us to ride in the same car, both wearing mascarillas, windows open, the passenger sitting in the back. The road leading up to the mountainside track starts about a kilometer from the village. After a kilometer on a metalled side road, an unmetalled road climbs upwards, then goes along the ridge at the top where the big telecoms towers for the island are located. The views in each direction are stunning. I can see why church folk love to climb up here on Ascension Day to pray for the people of Ibiza. My photos are here

The only off road traffic was a couple of telecoms vans. I think there were six of them up there, carrying the work-team installing new equipment up there, probably high capacity kit to serve the purposes of fibre-optic broadband which is now being rolled out, even in rural areas. Solveig's husband Fabian was saying on Monday how this could make a big difference to the island economy in future, with the inevitable collapse of mass tourism. The hospitality industry will find a way to re-invent itself, and more people will want to work from home digitally in a very congenial setting. If people need to commute less by car, this will have a positive impact on the environment.

Just as we passed under the tall twin towers at the highest point, I had a phone call from Kath. She said she'd been conversing with BAe helpline staff during the morning on my behalf, complaining the web re-booking page failure, and getting fobbed off with excuses that they could only deal with me as ticket holder, although she had gave them information provided by me for the purpose. She persisted in pestering them as a way of drawing public attention to their service to clients. Another traveller spotted her tweets, saying they'd experienced exactly the same problem with this flight re-booking. So no equipment fault could be attributed to our digital devices.

She rang again just after we returned to the house for lunch, announcing triumphantly that finally she had re-tried the booking page and gained access. There was still a June 1st flight, but to London City Airport in the evening, so she booked that. Will it run? We shall see. I daresay the complaints about the rogue page had pushed the back office staff into investigating and troubleshooting in between our mountain top phone call and our lunchtime call. 

My darling Kath loves a challenge of this kind and doesn't take no for an answer. It's a great relief to have had her do that much for me. I'm not sure that I could take that level of stress, as I have so little confidence left in the way an corporate giant of the aviation industry deals with people in moments of crisis. Owain has pointed out that in his experience smaller airlines are better at customer relations, not simply because they have fewer clients, but that they are motivated to hold on to them and let their good reputation grow. Well, we always used to say 'Small is beautiful'.

The rest of the day just slipped away with updating people and catching up on the craziness of the past twenty four hours. Tomorrow I'll be catching up on preparations for Sunday. So on it goes!

   

State of Alarm - day Fifty Six

Lovely warm weather again today, but I needed to make an early start on a sermon for next Sunday's service, as co-incidentally this week's bible study is on the same passage Acts 17, set for the first lesson, Paul in Athens. There's a lot to say about this and I'd rather not repeat myself, so it will need extra thought to make it edifying for those who listened to the bible study and those who didn't. It's an unusual challenge.

Just before I was about to break for lunch I received a text message from British Airways to say that my flight to Heathrow on 1st June was cancelled. It referred me to their re-booking web page to go through the same rigmarole as I went through a week ago, to secure another flight. Except that this time the page refused to load. I tried it on a couple of different devices and got the same result. No point in phoning up as the waiting time for a response with a long queue of distressed disappointed passengers could be many expensive hours of waiting. 

I chatted with Kath about this. She tried the re-booking service using my flight booking reference and got the same result. She looked up alternative flights, and found a Jet2 to Birmingham on the 17th or 18th June, if all else failed, but promised that she would attempt to contact BA using Twitter and their Direct Messaging service tomorrow. 

This turn of events really upset me. So many people to inform, here there and everywhre. It's been hard enough to map out the end of my ministry time here and prepare to run the contagion gauntlet of air travel in order to get home to a less active future, then suddenly all this is in the air again, and a different set of plans have to be thought out. After lunch, I decided to abandon work and walk to St Antoni's Banco Santander ATM and withdraw some euros to pay my debts with. Unfortunately I underestimated the distance. I thought it was 4km when it's 7km from here. It was probably a good idea to tire myself out so I'd have no energy left to worry with. 

In the evening I didn't get much done. I found myself thinking of people down the ages displaced by war or plague, or economic migration not knowing how they were going to reach the place of safety or secure life prospects they were hoping for. I'm so used to life going according to plan with only a few minor setbacks along the way, flights delayed, bus services not running to time, major traffic congestion delays, all with limited consequences. 

Last year, waiting for minor surgical operations which never seemed to happen quite when intended, being nearly forgotten by hospital admin, was bad enough. It taught me how to be a patient, and to be patient, and wait many weeks not knowing for the first time in my life. Now I have a rough idea of how to come to terms with big disruptions if I have to. At the moment, so many unknowns and such a climate of uncertainty mean that things you thought you could rely on you may not be able to. Everything feels like a game of chance. 

For most of my life I believe I have been risk-averse. It took a finance consultant quizzing me about retirement investment ten years ago to help me to see this about myself. I've been way out of my comfort zone since leaving home this time, far more than I could have expected or wanted to risk. There was a call to minister here and once I'd said yes, there was no turning back, especially as the risk of doing so accelerated by the day when there was still widespread denial or ignorance of the nature of the pandemic threat. There's no escape from uncertainty if I do get home eventually, as it's far less safe in UK than it is on Ibiza. Not knowing how long I have to remain here, in order simply to get used to the thought is hardest to live with tonight.

  

State of Alarm - day Forty Nine

Now that it's possible within reasonable limits to get out and about every day, I decided it was time for me to make the effort of driving to San Antoni and getting some money from the Santander cash machine. Regardless of language the user interface on modern ATMs is generally user friendly, and in this case, once a UK card was registered, the dialogue priority was English. I think the last time I drove down to San Antoni was seven weeks ago. There was no question of not knowing where to go, where to park or how to work the machine, but inwardly I was nervous, and it was quite an effort to get myself out of the house and into the car equipped with mascarilla y guantes, plus hand-gel. 

I was nervous at being in a public place with others, nervous about appropriate behaviour, since I've had no practice since lock-down began, only going out when the streets were empty. Nervous having to think about correct, safe hygienic behaviour for my sake and the sake of others. Mindfulness and nervousness don't sit well together. It's the sort of thing prisoners released at the end of sentence worry about while they adjust to mundane life again. It's the sort of thing people with agoraphobia or obsessive compulsive disorders have to endure, with or without support. Such a jittery experience is not wasted, if it enables you to put yourself in the shoes of another. 

I parked the car down the far end of the marina, a ten minute walk from Banco Santander. A few of the wayside bars and restaurants were open and serving to clients sitting at socially distanced tables. Some masked municipality workers were out, the odd masked cyclist and unmasked elder making their morning paseo. The car park was almost full, but I found a place, and noticed that cars were coming and going fairly often, people visiting briefly for specific purposes maybe, but not staying around for long. People need time to get used to new routines by practicing them and then relaxing with them. Me too.

The neatly groomed beach along the road into town was deserted. I think I saw one Proteccion Civil vehicle, but no police at all. I guess the area is covered by CCTV, and Tuesday morning isn't like Saturday or Sunday, when people like to get out for a paseo and become a crowd that causes anxiety to the enforcers.

Anyway, mission accomplished. My card still works, and I was able to withdraw €200. It's cash I'll now need as I'm now going to resume shopping for myself. Ibiza covid-19 infection rates have stayed in check for several weeks, and lifting some restrictions, provided accepted precautions are still strictly observed, encourages me to think the risk level is acceptable. Whatever I do when I get back home it will be higher anyway!

While I was driving back my phone kept pinging. Back in the house I fielded a text message from British Airways telling me that my home flight to Gatwick, booked on 26th had been cancelled, and that I could book another to London at no extra cost. I was upset but not altogether surprised. Last night, the BA head of Gatwick operations was on the news saying that the airline was contemplating withdrawing all its services from the airport. Twelve hours later notification o flight cancellation arrived.

It directed me to a re-booking page I suspect had been hastily constructed overnight. It was crude and user-unfriendly. I had to hunt, date by date after the flight cancelled to find the next available flight to anywhere in London from Ibiza. No diary  with flight dates highlighted was available, like going back to booking fifteen years ago. A rush job, reflecting what BA would describe as a fast moving business situation, never mind the customers struggling to get their planning heads around changing circumstances.

So, I am now booked on a flight to Heathrow on the first of June instead. Rosi said BA never fly from Ibiza to Heathrow - a change of policy, or a flight which will turn out to be like some of the emergency flights, stopping over to collect and drop off passengers like an old style country bus. If we get to Heathrow, it will suit Kath and I much better, as it's half the Gatwick travel time back home to Wales.

I now have two additional Sundays of work here, more on-line services and bible studies to prepare. I'm happy about that. It may mean I can complete my guided tour of Acts, without having to compress the last third, and neglect stories worth examining. A detailed study of Acts with proper discussion is a year's job at least. My desire has been to enable bible study group members to look at the whole with fresh eyes, and see the unique transforming nature of what was going on in the stories Acts tells us. Get excited about the detail in the light shed by the big picture, is the message, but it's hard work when it's such a long and varied story.

Only recently I came across a testimony to the influence of Paul's teaching by a leading UK atheist intellectual - sorry don't remember his name - he identified Paul's advocacy of freedom, equality and human dignity as gifts unleashed on the world through the story of Jesus, as being the paradigm shift in changed self understanding which overthrew empires, led to the reformation, enlightenment and rise of modern science and technology. A very secular meaning to the grace revealed in Christ's Gospel, but I think he's right. It takes an outsider to recognise the true value and impact of all the church has struggled and often failed to teach, as it became socially acceptable to believe. 

After lunch, I walked down to the rocky lava covered seashore at Cala de Bou, and took photos of the Cormorant couple on the foreshore now rather than on the island. No sign of chicks however. On my return, before supper, I walked up to Es Cuco and did some shopping, having regained enough confidence to do so. On my last shopping visit here I was intercepted and questioned by police, still at the early stage of working out how to carry out enforcement, and how to identify idiots and dodgy geezers. Hoy, nadie. The shop wasn't busy, staff were kitted out properly and screened, and it was relaxed as friendly as ever, the changes taken in their stride. Long may they prosper!

After supper, another evening spent relaxing, listening to a Beethoven concert on BBC Radio Three. Slowly I am unwinding ...

State of Alarm - day Forty One

Clouds and rain gave way to sunshine this morning and nice long warm day. After Morning Prayer, I listened to the Sunday programme on BBC Radio 4. This ended with a poem written by a surgeon on in a Lancashire hospital Intensive Care Unit, entitled 'I just called to say ...' It wasn't a homage to the Stevie Wonder song of the same name, but an account of his telephone pastoral ministry to the next of kin of patients under his care on ventilation. Half of his day is spent on the phone updating those who wait at home, for better or for worse. The poem spoke of what he has to tell someone at each stage, eagerly awaiting news, unprepared for how long it takes, either for recovery or to death. It was moving and powerful, and gave an insight into the anguish of the healer when all that can be done has been done, and all that's left to do is wait.

The broadcast Morning service, which I listened to over breakfast centred around the Emmaus Road story, today's Gospel. Worship was led by the chaplain and staff members of a hospice, and turned around the journeys people make at the end of their lives. In my sermon for this week, I mentioned that several places lay claim to be the original Emmaus village just outside of West Jerusalem. The preacher, principal of Mansfield College Oxford took it a step further, speaking of several possible roads to Emmaus, all of them different, one hidden, one overgrown and neglected, one dangerous, along a landmine strewn border and so on. It's an imaginative fugue on the narrative, showing how rich are the possibilities for feeding on the Word.   

I read Ante-Communion and prayed at the usual service time. Valuable and inspiring though many on-line liturgies can be, sometime I find that I just need to read the texts rather than listen to them, and then be silent, either sitting or walking. There's no substitute for fellowship, for human contact, but the empty space can be re-purposed for waiting on God. Co-incidentally, Roy over in Alicante sent me a quotation from T S Eliot's Four Quartets which speaks profoundly of the mystery of God and the humankind beholding the mystery

'I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, 

for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; 

wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; 

there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. 

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: 

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.'

Out in the garden, I caught my first daytime sight of the house gecko on a wall, and took a photo which I'm proud of. Then I saw a pair of small grew birds acting as if  they were looking for a nesting site. As one of them rested on top of the big garden cactus I took a photo which Rosi later identified as a Spotted Flycatcher. I remember Mother Doreen pointing out one in the forest near her home up on the inland border of Malaga province but that wasd fifty metres away, impossible to snap. So this was another first!

In the evening Rosi called me about booking a flight home, on the 22nd May, as a couple of direct flights to London have been advertised on the BA website., one to London City and one to Gatwick. A quick chat with Kath confirmed she'd be willing to collect me and take me home, and within an hour I had the flight confirmation document. It was booked by Rose from the UK. She was stranded there on a return trip from Ibiza where she has made her home. Decisive action was needed and taken on my behalf, for which I am very grateful. But my hopes won't really begin to rise until this flight proposal is confirmed. Any deterioration here or in UK could change the best made plans. One step at a time on this road. The old order has changed, perhaps irrevocably, who knows yet?

The inbound flight will be mostly of stranded returnees, with fewer people this soon after lock-down wanting to go to London, except for business, or people who missed out on the emergency flights in March, and didn't need to return. It will be good to go home, though there will be far less for me to do there than there has been here, except carry on waiting for that final round of surgery. Clare says that 'elective' surgery is to be re-started soon, though I suspect I'll still have another six months to wait for that.

This morning I saw a man out walking with his young teenage daughter dragging her feet behind, taking advantage of the easing of restrictions on children. I could imagine a girl of her age saying "Oh Dad, must I go out with you, you're so embarrassing."  In the afternoon I heard several children's voices out on the road, and through the trees saw three naughty youngsters out together, no parent, no dog in sight. Well, one can expect the young to push the boundaries, having been pent up at home for so long. Good for their mental health, as it's bad for the blood pressure of law enforcers.

Bank Holiday Weekend - again

I spent much of yesterday, as the previous day, uploading and writing some key captions for the 900+ photos taken on our Rhine cruise, I only discarded a couple of dozen bad pictures. It's a tribute to the reliability, ease of use and responsiveness of the Sony HX50 and HX300 cameras I took with me.

Many photos required no editing at all. A few were taken in situations where conditions confused the camera sensor leading to underexposure, but this could be rectified using the old desktop Picasa, still a versatile easy to use app. For the most part, however, Google Photos on-line editor provided all the tools I needed. With poor connectivity on the cruise, uploading, let alone editing was impossible, so my spare time since arriving home has been taken with making an album for each day's photos.

Encouraged by Clare, I also made a couple of web albums using just a third of the available photos covering the trip in two halves, so as not to exhaust the patience of viewers. You can find the first of these here and the second here.

Owain came over to visit in time for supper after work and stayed the night, returning to Bristol in the afternoon, as he has a gig to prepare for tomorrow.. It was good to see him, and enjoy our evening meal outdoors in the warmth of the evening sun, drinking a bottle of Alsacian Gewurztraminer for a change. Before lunch, he took us to Luffkin's Coffee Roasters a tiny cafe in a King's Road back alley next to the evangelical mission hall calling itself the 'Church of God in Cardiff'. The cafe offers a few select single estate grown filter served coffees from Africa or Latin America, and offers a breakfast featuring several different special kinds of bread. A foodie's paradise. 

Further down the alley is the popular local Pipes micro-brewery, whose beers can be found in several places across the city centre. The alley also boasts a small select farmers' market stalls on weekends - organic veg, bread, cheese and a dried meat and sausage stall. It's the first time we've had occasion to explore this alleyway properly when fully in use. I turns out to be a hidden treasure of our Parish.

In the evening after supper, I walked around Pontcanna fields. The entire north football field area is currently enclosed in Heras fencing, and half of it covered with tents - a hundred four person and a hundred two person tents, plus wigwam shaped marquees and toilets. This is the 'Tent City' which is being prepared to accommodate surplus visitors arriving for the UEFA Cup Winners' cup final in the city centre's Principality Stadium next weekend. Apparently all hotel are already booked, and a large crowd of Spanish fans are expected, as the finalists are the two top Spanish teams. There's an unprecedented high level of extra security measures being taken in town as well, planned for a long time, and not just in response to last Monday's terrorist incident in Manchester.

The British Airways total IT systems failure has been headline news all day, bringing to a halt all their operations at Heathrow and Gatwick. Every one of the airline's activities is so heavily dependent on use of networked computers and phones, that nobody could communicate with anyone else, and passengers were left stranded in departure lounges and on aircraft, unable to move safely without the appropriate forms of clearance. It's been attributed to power failures at the server farm level, and thankfully, not to cyber attacks. This high level of electronic dependency and reliance on the core of the system never failing is a disaster waiting to happen.

IT workers unions criticised the redundancy imposed on 1,200 BT computer system staff last year, and outsourcing of their jobs to Indian company Tata Consultancy Services. Cardiff Council made the same move several years ago, as a money saver, and on a couple of occasions I know of, the entire system went down for much of a day. The technology is new, state of the art, but this doesn't mean it's been tried and tested to the extreme limit of reliability. This couldn't have happened at a more critical time, Bank Holiday weekend. One can only hope questions are asked and lessons learned about long term sustainability from such disastrous experience.

   

Journey's end - Basel to Cardiff

Packed cases left outside cabin doors for collection were swiftly removed from the MV Emily Bronte while we ate breakfast this morning. After correct identification they were loaded on to the coach as their owners climbed on board for the half hour drive across from the quay on the German side of the Dreieck to Basel-Mulhouse-Freibourg airport, across the river on the French side of the Dreieck - the land is leased to the Swiss, who run the place. We had to wait ten minutes for group booking check-in desks to be opened, but were diverted by the sight of several young Asian travellers, struggling to re-close huge suitcases they had to open in order to retrieve some essential item, their scattered goods and chattels seemingly resistant to being rounded up and contained. 

We were through check-in and security two hours before flight departure, and our our way back to Heathrow just after midday. British Airways has now moved over exclusively to card payments for on-board, evidently convenient for flight staff, but maybe not so convenient for those reluctant to adopt new technology, who prefer cash. Currency has long been a symbol of sovereignty. It seems we are surrendering this to the international banking network, in the name of improved efficiency, cost and convenience. Fine, until the next catastrophic system hack, financial melt-down, or collapse of the global electronic network due to an unprecedented huge solar flare. I'm happier to put my faith in God, than I am in the latest electronic/economic fad, however brilliantly designed there are hidden flaws in everything that the Bible calls 'the work of human hands'. This is ignored at our peril.

We had booked on a later coach, two hours after arrival, in case there was a flight delay. We landed on time, however, and were shocked to discover that instead of paying a £5 fee to change our National Express booking we'd have to pay £24 to ride on an earlier coach. I was furious about this as we had not been correctly informed when booking the tickets at Sophia Gardens Coach Station in Cardiff, but Clare insisted that we pay up, so after another four hours coach riding and a local bus we were back home by six o'clock. Thankfully, there as no need to go out and buy food, as we had enough veg to cook an evening meal, remaining from last week. Now there's a big pile of washing to be done, mail to open, grass to be mown and early bed, after ten hours travel time. It's such a relief to return to reliable decent speed internet again. And finally tidy up the mess made to this blog by such an inadequate on-board wi-fi system. 

Apart from this hassle, the cruise itself was an enriching experience, thanks to the professionalism and care of all those who were involved in making it work. A fine example of euro-co-operation, at the domestic consumer level. I wonder what impact brexit will have on this, apart from higher prices?

  

  

Family re-union II

On this occasion, Rachel and Owain, Clare and I took rooms in Kenilworth's Holiday Inn for our stay here. Anto's sister Viv, recently bereaved, was occupying their spare room, and this offered us a most comfortable and reasonably priced alternative to being crammed in and sleeping on the floor. Clare and I had a fourth floor room facing east and overlooking the High Street.

We got to bed by eleven, exhausted by Boxing day's festivities, and were awake to enjoy the sunrise, followed by a full English Breakfast in the hotel dining room, before joining the others for mid-morning coffee. After lunch, we walked through Abbey Fields to Kenilworth Castle, so we could all get some exercise, and the kids could enjoy the new play apparatus in the park.

After supper a game of Monopoly, against the background of Rachel preparing for her flight back to Arizona, involving a six o'clock start from here to get to a flight from Heathrow, just after ten. This had the added frustration of being unable to check in on-line, as the airline partnership (BA & UA) seemed not to have assigned an aircraft to match the demand. She has to be sure to be there earlier than usual to make sure that she doesn't get 'bumped off' the flight she's booked on, as the airlines always overbook seats on any given international route. It adds an element of insecurity no long distance traveller needs. It used to be like that travelling around the Mediterranean fifty years ago. Scale up the distances, and even today the element of uncertainty can't be ruled out.

   

Not quite a smooth homecoming

We were up and breakfasting by seven thirty, in time for the 8.33 inter city DB train to Dusseldorf Airport. All proceeded smoothly with our British Airways flight on a smaller aircraft than the one on our outward journey, until we reached London airspace, where we told there would be landing delay due to a torrential downpour putting the usual landing sequence temporarily on hold. We cruised around through bumpy clouds for twenty minutes or so before being permitted to descend without  incident.

We'd booked on a four thirty bus to Cardiff, but even a briefly delayed arrival left the prospect of a two hour wait. Due to the rain, buses were all arriving late and we'd seen the M4 congested on the landing approach. The two o'clock coach to Cardiff hadn't yet arrived, we heard, so we re-booked on that coach, as there were spaces, in the hope of getting home earlier. It was an hour and half late, so our coach arrived back in Cardiff only half an hour earlier than we might otherwise have done. We missed lunch, not wanting the stray for from the bus stop as the rebooked coach was supposed to be arriving "any time now". 

Despite the potential for offering real time updates to passengers using GPS tracking and social media, National Express still keeps its passengers and dispatch crew a bit in the dark. It's an excellent service, nevertheless, apart from chilly and entirely un-necessary air conditioning in use when most passengers are in summer dress. Forced air at 20C feels like 14C if you're stuck in your seat and can't move around. You can ask the driver to raise the temperature, but aren't supposed to speak to him when the coach is on the move!

We were home by nine, and cooking a curry, fourteen hours after saying auf Wiedersehen to our friends Connie and Udo. It was great to spend time with them, and I certainly appreciated being back in Germany for the first time since re-unification. How could it be so long!

Smooth journey and sad news

We were up and breakfasting a five, and a taxi called for us at half past to take us to the bus station for our six o'clock coach to Heathrow Terminal five. We'd anticipated crowds and long queues by taking only hand luggage for a four day stay and checking in on line. The security screening was state of the art and swift, so within a quarter an hour of arrival we were window shopping in the Departures hall, with a hour to spare before the departure gate was announced.

We'd expected additional delays not only because of the holiday crowds, but because of the American insistence in presenting only charged mobile devices and laptops, for fear that a bomb might impersonate a battery. This doesn't apply the European flights however, and the scanning of phones and laptops required no extra jumping through hoops. Maybe scanners here allow operators to tell the difference between a battery, live or dead, and a fake suspicious device or half kilo of drugs. It's bound to be different if you're flying to the USA and are obliged to stick to their rules if you want to land at all.

I noticed seating installations with charging points and wi-fi hotspots in the entrance hall. A most considerate service. Here, unsecured airport wi-fi is available for free for up to fortyfive minutes, no sign-in necessary, so very quick and easy to use and access, much to my surprise. It was very useful to be able to clear my in-box of Monday messages before leaving. Technology as it can be and rarely is in reality. I imagine that this service with little wait time has reduced complaints immensely.

Our British Airways Flight to Dusseldorf, one of three during the day, was on time and full. We were served a free coffee, and in just over an hour we were touching down, in a grey overcast Rhineland. The airport's three terminals and parking are linked by Skytrain, an overhead pilotless monorail. The deposited us at the airport station and after a brief wait we were speeding north in a very crowded double decker Deutsche Bahn train, to the Ost Westfalia town of Herford.

We had to stand for the first quarter of the journey, but after Dusiberg and Essen more got off than go on and we found seats together in a small compartment, with a woman our age sitting opposite, a retired teacher to whom we chatted in a mixure of German and English for the rest of the journey. She was a Christian, married to a Nigerian, active in her time, Minden, the train's destination, in international social encounter and cross cultural community gardening. It made the two hour train trip speed by. I was surprised to discover I had no difficulty in speaking German to her. Even though my command of language is limited, and haven't used it much in twenty years, I seem to have retained enough to make myself understood.

Connie and Udo were waiting for us in Herford station. We last met seven years ago at Connie's graduation ceremony in St David's Hall Cardiff. We've been promising to visit Herford ever since Connie returned there 23 years ago from her two years of Friedensdienst volunteer service with the unemployed in Halesowen, where I was then Team Rector. Connie stayed with us in our vast six bedroomed parsonage. 

Udo, her partner since those days, is a precision engineer, who now runs his own machine component fabrication business employing half a dozen people. Sophisticated small to medium sized precision engineering manufacture has long been a strength of the German economy, now struggling against far Eastern competition, yet striving to rise to the challenge to hold its own and make quality count.

I surprised to discover that their house is several kilometres out of town in this rich and beautiful agricultural region of woodland and rolling fields of ripening grain. Udo, with the help of friends built the house himself from prefabricated units, on top of a large basement slightly submerged foundation they'd constructed - large enough to accommodate the two of them in fact - Udo's mother lived in a separate apartment above when she was alive, and it was where we stayed. 

It was warm enough sit out on the garden terrace and eat supper. The variety of birdsong in a nearby coppice of trees was amazing in its diversity, likewise the species of bees butterflies busying themselves with the flowers in the surrounding garden. To crown it all, a hare ran up one side of a long lawn before disappearing into the leylanda hedge thirty feet from us. Sadly I had no camera to hand. What a memorable welcome!

Just after we arrived, my nephew Julian rang to say that brother-in-law Geoff had died earlier in the afternoon. His last year of life has been tough for him and for my sister, as he became increasingly infirm, but our memories of him will remain as a larger than life person, full of enthusiasm and interests and full of music, still playing the saxophone until well into his eighties.

 

Waiting for a 'plane

Time to get the apartment ready to welcome Eddie and Ann this morning, so Leah came in to clean through, I changed bed linen, swapped bedrooms and gathered up all of my goods and chattels scattered in every room. By midday I was shopping for a few last minute food items and then on my way to the airport with an hour to spare. This gave me an opportunity to turn off the airport motorway and head into the village of Guadalmar, which is at the western flank of the Guadalhorce Paraje Natural nature reserve.

The Guadalhorce river runs down a wide valley from the Sierra de las Nieves and meets the sea through two main channels, just below Malaga airport. So there's a substantial wetland and saltmarsh area, that's perfect for welcoming migratory birds

I parked the car by the modern church of Our Lady, Star of the Sea, walked into the reserve from there, and explored some of the terrain along the riverside. 

I was fascinated to find that the ground was carpeted with green clover. I saw a couple of egrets flying at a distance, a flock of yellow birds which may have been finches heading away from me, swifts and swallows chasing each other overhead. A lark hovered and chirruped away, all in the three quarters of an hour I had to walk around. I can't think of a better way to kill time waiting for a 'plane to land.

I arrived at the airport punctually, only to discover that Eddie and Ann's flight had been diverted to land at Granada, supposedly because winds at Malaga were too strong for the smaller type of jet airliner flying from London City airport. That meant a long wait, so I left the airport and went to nearby Churriana to get a drink and some lunch and part the car for nothing while I waited. Just after three I had a text message from Ann to say they were on a Malaga bound coach. By quarter to five we were re-united and on our way to La Cala.

I was glad to have made time to cook a meal before setting out in the morning, so we went down to the beach for a walk in the light of the setting sun, before eating and relaxing for the evening.

Departures

The house seemed quiet and empty as we cleaned and tidied up on Monday morning. Just before lunch I received an email from my cousin Lindsay to tell us that his mother, my Auntie Joyce had died in her late eighties, at the nursing home across the city, where she's lived since her husband my Uncle Gordon died eight years ago. Her daughter Christine lives in Hong Kong, and given how long it will take for her to arrive home, the funeral won't be any time soon. Sad to say, neither Clare nor I can attend this significant family gathering to say our goodbyes, as I'll be out in Spain again on locum duty by then.

In the afternoon, Rachel sent us a message from the departure lounge at Heathrow to say her flight had been delayed. It took off four hours late, we later learned from the British Airways website.Not a pleasant experience with a small child to care for. I will be restless until I know she's landed at the other end, even though transatlantic flying is safe and predictable for the most part nowadays.