Last Lap

A cooler night, but one of disturbed sleep for both of us, winding up ready to travel I guess. We spent the morning cleaning the house and putting things in order. I had to complete my preparations for a very busy final Sunday with a baptism concluding.

Clare went for a swim while I was working, and then we walked down to 'La Escollera' restaurant in the fishing port for lunch. Escollera means breakwater in Spanish. How strange that the restaurant's logo is a fishing trawler!

It's very popular with Spanish diners, with a very varied fish menu. I imagine that in the winter it just has indoor tables for eighty people, but at other times, the parking area outside is covered with tables under huge umbrellas, catering for as many people again. We didn't have to queue or wait long to be served once we sat down. We ordered a large mixed salad between us. Clare had Monkfish, I had big local Sardinas and the portions were generous. It was the treat we both needed, and very reasonably priced with drinks at forty euros.

We were going to catch the bus back but ended up walking rather than wait twenty minutes. No bus passed us in that time. We needed a siesta then, but already packing was on my mind. I want everything possible ready to go before my morning's work tomorrow, so that we can enjoy a final lunch before being taken for our coach to Malaga.

On my way back from taking out stuff for recycling I noticed a black van with its engine running, outside one of the houses in the street below ours, with the legend 'Interfunerals' on the back. The sort of van that would be sent to collect someone who'd been certified dead and cleared for removal. In the land of holiday homes and ageing occupants, death too can be a visitor from time to time.

Bag packing this evening, floor cleaning and a peek at a historical travelogue about Sicily before early bed.

Leaving it the way you want to find it

After breakfast this morning we picked up Patricia from her house, so she could deposit a large bag of charitably donated clothes in the boot of the car for transport to Sotogrande on Sunday. For this last time we drove to San Pedro for the CAMEO coffee morning. Among the people at table with us was a Spanish friend of Joes, a retired air steward. His English was good, but he was happy to chat with me in Spanish at the same time. I had probably my longest conversation in Spanish without lapsing into English. Amazing!

On our way back we made a shopping trip to Mercadona, and filled the car with fuel, so that it's ready for the incoming chaplain. We're into winding down mode now, re-stocking the fridge, tidying the office and cleaning the house, leaving the place the way you'd rather find it.

When we set out on our afternoon paseo, after a siesta, there was a service vehicle parked at an awkward angle next to the area of the rubbish and re-cycling bins. There's also a bus stop in the same area, at the point where Line 1 drops off passengers before turning at the next roundabout and picking up passengers for the eastbound journey. By the time we returned, the bus stop had disappeared, and the post holes were neatly filled with concrete! Sensible. Only one bus stop is needed, and that's still there across the road.

Tonight's BBC Prom is dedicated entirely to the music making of Aretha Franklyn, who made a huge contribution, not only to 20th century soul music, but to modern black history, feminism and human rights. You can say it, preach it, but somehow when you sing it, it penetrates deeper and sticks. Wasn't it Saint Augustine who said "A prayer sung is twice said."?

Heat haze

Just like Britain, Spain has had a dangerously hot weather warning today with a temperature of 32C, but with high cloud and sea mist, we've been shielded from dangerous glare. It's not been too humid. I guess the best word to describe it would be a sultry day. And that's not a word I use all that often. My time was taken up this morning with detailed preparation for tomorrow's christening at San Pedro. 

This was in the church dairy since well before my arrival and I was so busy getting my head around everything needed to carry our my duties here that it only occurred to me this morning that I hadn't talked to the child's parents. An email brought no response, so later in the day I made contact by phone, reassured myself that all was happening as planned. It gave me an opportunity to brief the mother about coping with a fifteen month old who's already running around.

After lunch I drove to Mercadona for some grocery shopping and refuelled the car on my was back. This was a puzzling experience, as I couldn't figure out the instructions on the pump. I asked the young woman minding the till in the kiosk to explain. She spoke quickly with an Andalusian accent, and smiled when I asked her to slow down, which she didn't. She offered to try in English, but I carried on in Spanish, and eventually gathered that one had to leave cash or a card for payment at the till, then the pump is activated. 

OK, I thought, not knowing exactly how much fuel I needed. I handed over a fifty euro note, and the car took that amount, and maybe would have taken more, but I was conscious of  not knowing properly what I was doing. When I returned to get my receipt, the girl handed me five euros and some small dinero, much to my puzzlement. We laughed our way through a Q&A explanation. I'll have to ask tomorrow, but I think this it may be a government authorised VAT refund to lower the cost of fuel, but it could also serve as an anti-theft measure.

I went for a late afternoon walk. The sun shone out through the layer of cloud, so it wasn't too hot. The Playa del Cristo and Playa Seghers were pretty crowded, but not the beaches further west along the bay. I returned to the house falling short of my daily quota. Heat, tiredness, feet painful though not swollen. No virtue in self punishment. I had an hour's call with Clare and Kath who was visiting for the weekend, such a lovely surprise. A simple salad supper of tomato, lettuce, loads of green olives and bread, later than usual, but very light and refreshing. Then, time for early bed. Busy day tomorrow. Too cloudy to stay up and gaze at the Perseid meteor shower tonight. Sad about this.

Flat out

I woke up earlier than usual this morning and posted today's Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp an hour before 'Thought for the Day' - my regular target time. After breakfast, I worked on next week's biblical reflection, ready to record later.

It wasn't too hot and there was a fair breeze, so I decided to go for a walk before lunch, and headed for Avenida Juan Carlos the other side of the port from here, where a new Ajuntamiento is under construction in what we'd call the 'central business district' in UK, where the main banks and other commercial offices are to be found. 

Walking there in the shade of side streets for the first time in the morning revealed what small shops there are in the barrios that side. In the afternoons only the supermarkets stay open, and some of the bars. a long lunch at home, or a siesta is normal and the streets are far quieter.

On the way back along the paseo, I stepped into a water puddle to cool the soles of my feet, which get very hot walking on pavements. I slipped, both feet and gently landed on my back in the puddle without hurting myself, perhaps because I was relaxed and my muscles were warmed up. Half of me was soaked as a result, quite cooling for the rest of the three kilometres I had to walk. Then I had to put all my clothes through the washing machine. With 30C heat and a wind, they won't take long to dry. 

Slipping like that was such a surprise I didn't have time to stiffen up or react, Or maybe my body remembers how to survive a sudden backwards fall into snow without getting hurt. Or just lucky. It could have been worse. One lady who herself had just walked through the same puddle asked me if I was OK in Spanish, and I was able to reassure her. Then another lady asked me in French, and I replied to her in French automatically. Makes a change from being speechless, I suppose.

When I got back to the house, I machine washed everything I'd been wearing, which took an hour, then hung out in the fierce afternoon sun, everything was dry and ready to wear in just two hours. That's a rarity in the UK. I had a snack lunch followed by a salad supper later on, as I didn't feel really hungry, and didn't want to cook. In fact, all I wanted to do was laze in front of the telly, with a succession of restoration and renovation programmes on More Four. 

Clare and I chatted for half an hour. It seems the worst of the nose and dust from number eleven's building site works is just about over. Reconstruction of the back section of the house is about to begin. All should be complete by the time we return at the end of this month.

I went to bed early, and recorded next week's reflection in the bedroom, which is probably the quietest room in the house, except when the toilet flushing tank isn't working properly, as it does from time to time for no apparent reason. It's a matter of cutting off the water supply to curb the noise and hope that it will sort itself out once the water supply is restored. Like the one in the downstairs loo at home, such a nuisance.