A few problems solved

Sunshine this morning with occasional ominous clouds but no rain - 22C and thankfully not humid. I slept better with fewer disturbances last night, and was bemused when my not so smart watch said that I'd only slept for an hour and a half. It's not the first time it's happened. I logged in the missing hours manually, and the data analysis showed I'd been away continuously for two hours before daybreak. It probably means that its sensors are not in good enough contact with the skin sometimes, and fail to take a reading. Or, its data synchronization with the cloud, by whatever route it does this, goes to sleep of its own accord. Why do I bother? As much as anything I'm interested in finding out over a period of time how reliable such consumer health devices really are.

Housework after breakfast, waiting on tenterhooks for a call from Kate our travel agent. It was eleven when she rang, and reassured me that I hadn't done anything disastrous. In fact, last night I nearly succeeded in finding the place our particular boarding passes were stored on the EasyJet website, but was thrown off scent by an server error message which shouldn't have occurred. Kate had checked everything was in order before calling, and talked me through the stages of finding flight details booked by a third party, Riviera Travel in this case. This can be done without logging in to an account, using the boarding pass codes Kate already sent me. This morning it worked as intended. I downloaded PDF files to store on my phone, took and edited screenshots of the QR codes, to add to Google wallet. Apparently Riviera Travel mails us paper copies plus brochure next week. All is well, one more uncertainty disposed of. 

Several weeks ago one of our IKEA dining room chairs started to come apart. A joint in one of the legs had worked loose. On inspection the loosening joint had ended up with a specific curved washer dropping out of place, so the joint could no longer be tightened with the key provided. At that time the washer could not be found, or maybe we were too busy to hunt for it carefully. While I was chatting to Kate, Clare got the tool kit out, looking for a way to remedy the problem, and the said washer turned up. I had assumed it was lost, but maybe we had spares without realising. Anyway, unscrewing the bolt holding the joint in place proved to be a slow and tricky job, but in the end I got it loose enough to be able to insert the washer and tighten it fully.

By the time I finished, Clare was preparing vegetables for a pasta sauce and starting cooking them. Then she went outdoors to hang some washing, and lingered longer than was necessary, when I arrived in the kitchen feeling triumphant. Well, the vegetables were a bit caramelised, but not carbonised, so I took over, finished the job and boiled some penne to give her a few moments of respite before lunch.

I walked along the Taff Trail the other side of the river from Western Avenue to Blackweir Bridge, busy with commuting cyclists as ever late afternoon. Clare had gone out to meditation group by the time I got home. After supper, I recorded next week's reflection on the Transfiguration and edited it.

Lorries transporting aid into Gaza are beginning to deliver now, in addition to air drops. Trump is finally acknowledging the reality of starvation there, as if he's only just starting to watch TV news reports. Two significant declarations have been made by Israeli groups alleging genocide in Palestinian territories on the basis of evidence they ave collected on the ground - one, a group of charitable Israeli medics, the other is the eminent radical Israeli group B'tSelem, which monitors human rights violations in the Occupied Territories. It was active during the second intifada when I was in Jerusalem on sabbatical concluding my time in Geneva at the end of 2000. Let's hope public opinion supports its findings at this time when the Israeli government is in recess. This could well positively influence any cabinet reshuffle Netanyahu makes in an effort restore the credibility of his government's disastrous plan of action.

For lack of anything better to do before bed, I watched an episode of Death Valley on BBC iPlayer, shot on location in and around Llantwit Major's Parish church. I hope disruption filming inevitably entails was richly compensated for in location facility fees.

Better late than cancelled

Up at seven thirty, out of the house by eight twenty to walk to the coach station for nine o'clock coach to Bristol Airport. Slower than usual, due to heavy backpack and dragging wheeled cabin bag. The bus was on time, and I was in the departures area within fifteen minutes of arrival. 

Getting through security despite the volume of early travellers was efficient and swift. The flight was 45 minutes late arriving, even later departing, as the disruption to airport ground traffic from a late arrival led to extra waiting time for the bus transferring us to the aircraft. It was gone two when we were airborne. The pilot told us that the headwind of 120 mph which shaved 20 minutes off the flight arrival would add even more flying time to its return journey - nearly three hours in the air. I read my Spanish novel for much of the flight, and dozed a bit, so the time slipped by hardly noticeable. The same weather front disrupted air traffic in some parts of Europe and flights were being cancelled. Nothing to complain about here!

I was in the second row of seats, and among the first to disembark and get to passport control, a long walk through empty corridors and spaces, it seemed. I passed through without a hitch, no questions asked, and was quickly spotted by churchwarden John on my way out into the arrivals area. We reached Nerja about seven thirty and went straight to a Chinese restaurant for a meal - spicy duck for me. It was getting dark by the time we arrived at church house in a seven house terraced row half way up Paseo Tamango Hill about a kilometre from the sea in a steep verdant valley whose slopes are covered with avocado and aubergine bushes, I think, though I can't be sure as they're not yet showing.

The house is puzzling at first. As you enter from the street you go straight upstairs to the bedrooms and downstairs to the lounge and kitchen with a balcony, then downstairs again to another suite of rooms including an office and a shower, and a terrace overlooking the small swimming pool each house in the terrace possesses. It'll take some getting used to. 

The fridge has been stocked with veggies and the means to make a pasta sauce for tomorrow. There was a freshly baked loaf and amazingly, a bottle of unfiltered oil pressed from olives grown on John's finca, which is an hour's drive away to the north east in the mountains of Granada Province. And the oil, poured on to fresh bread to be consumed had a flavour like nothing you could but in a run of the mill supermarket. What a wonderful welcome. 

Despite a lot of walking today I made 90 percent of my daily target, before turning in, too tired to care about the rest.

Penultimate preparations for travel

I woke up at half past seven, posted today's Morning Prayer link to WhatsApp, and carried on sleeping until nearly nine. I had trouble getting to sleep to start with as a muscle in my right shoulder blade was tensing up and threatening to take my shoulder into spasm. Something misaligned I guess. Eventually I found a way to lie on my back and give just enough support to the shoulder blade to prevent it happening and then I was able to fall asleep quickly, with no further ill-effect during the night.

After breakfast I went to St John's and celebrated the Eucharist for just three of the regulars. The husband of another regular we haven't seen recently died yesterday. That's why we've not seen her. We had coffee afterwards and Ruth presented me with a chocolate caterpillar shaped cake in anticipation of my birthday next week. That was a surprise! Yesterday I received a birthday card she'd sent - an 80th birthday card. She had been misinformed by someone of my current age. We enjoyed a laugh about it. I shall keep it until next year.

On return home, I cooked sardines and veg for lunch, then caught a bus into town, to hunt for a new pair of sandals and a pair of lightweight trousers to take with me to Spain. I got  sandals at Sketchers, half the price I paid last time. After much rummaging through packed trouser rails in Mountain Warehouse, got a half price pair very similar to ones I wear every day. As I have lost weight, and there was no cloth tape measure in the shop (can you believe it?) to check my waist size and knowing that I have lost weight I guessed correctly the size I needed, and now have a new pair to wear while travelling that will stay up without a belt when passing through airport security

Later in the afternoon I had a text message about booking a covid vaccination later this month. I rang up try and arrange another for when I return, but have to call back tomorrow to rearrange a date, either when I return at the end of my stay, or maybe when I return mid-May with Clare. Some with the MRI scan I'm due too. The NHS system doesn't allow for re-scheduling beyond eight weeks.

After supper, I worked on next Thursday's Morning Prayer and reflection, then recorded and edited it. My Post Office Money card needed topping up with Euros. I couldn't recall how much I added to the card last year, and was annoyed to find information from last year was no longer available. Having had a most frustrating time with the Post Office Travel Card app when I tried it several times earlier in the year, as it wasn't working properly after an upgrade, I tried it again, and it gave me a undesired security run-around before letting me in, but now it does work, and I have been able to add a sum to it, so that I have an alternative to my Santander debit and credit cards. 

I also wanted to get the EasyJet app to deliver me a QR code for Google Wallet to use instead of a piece of paper when I enter departures at Bristol airport. This app also gave me a security run-around before it delivered what I wanted. My paper coach ticket has a QR code on it, and the phone has two scanning apps, but frustratingly these deliver only pdf files which you then have to convert to jpeg photo format. Fine if you can get a clear focussed scan to start with, which I didn't. I had to rely on the camera to take a jpeg photo of the QR code on the paper ticket, and then edit it to exclude from the photo areas which weren't part of the code, as this generates errors and Google Wallet isn't fault tolerant. So much for AI. There's nothing smart about these fiddly procedures unfortunately.

Anyway those tasks are done now. All I need now is to select clothes and pack them tomorrow, after a good night's sleep.

App Annoyance

Cooler and cloudy today, a return to colder weather predicted for the weekend. I went to St Catherine's and celebrated the Eucharist with six others and collected this week's veg bag from Chapter on the way home.  For lunch instead of a veggie burger Clare cooked me a lamb chop with brown onion gravy complemented with butternut squash, an excellent combination of sweet and savoury, one to remember for another time.

While Clare had a flute lesson after lunch I went to the Coop for groceries. When I returned, Clare took a turn with the shopping trolley to go to Beanfreaks. While she was out and I had the house to myself, I took advantage of the quiet to record Easter Thursday Morning Prayer and Reflection, and edited it. Having received a notification about checking in for my outgoing flight to Malaga, I went to the EasyJet website and got my boarding pass, using my Chromebook, and transferred the barcoded ticket to my phone. I also installed the EasyJet app on my phone for convenience but not without difficulty as installation forced me to reset my memorised password. It seems the criteria for setting one have changed again, to make it that much harder to hack. Fair enough I suppose, but annoying when I had to repeat the performance on my Chromebook, despite Chrome OS efficiently replicating the password change on a different device. 

Another annoyance was clicking the notification email's web-link saying 'Manage Bookings', and finding that it took me to the EasyJet home page with the last flight booking I'd made displayed in a box, as if I was about to book it. There was a secondary 'Manage Bookings' box which popped up and then vanished, so had to hunt for that page, on top of the login hassles. Too much information, too complex to work as it should to and give you what you want first go, and yet such a site has so much information about me and my current flight bookings, you'd think this would be easy. Will AI be able to improve this? I doubt it. Last night I similar issues with the Post Office Travel Money card app on my phone, which will not allow me to enter my password, as the keyboard pops up and the vanishes in an instant. It's been like this for months. I can access the account easily through Chrome browser, but the print is a bit smaller. What a waste of an app!

I remembered a couple of items I needed but forgot to buy for myself and went back to the shops on Cowbridge Road East. On the way back I discovered that R J Berry butcher's shop has closed after 32 years of trading, probably because the man himself is retiring. His shop is where we've bought the festive turkey, sausage stuffing and pigs in blankets in those years we have hosted family Christmas in Meadow Street. Although I only bought meat and sausages there occasionally, he always remembered my name. An old fashioned food retailer with a long memory and personal touch. Next time round, it'll be one of the traditional butchers in Cardiff Market we go to for the best meat. Meat for the boys too - it's only Anto, Owain and myself who are the family omnivores.

After supper, I continued watching 'Top Dog' for the rest of the evening, and made an effort to go to bed earlier, so it won't be a shock when the clocks go forward.

Outbound Bristol Malaga flight booked

I went to bed late and woke up early, posted today's Morning Prayer link on WhatsApp then dozed until it was time for breakfast. There were six of us with Meg, who celebrated at St John's this morning. After a cup of coffee, I sent to the Post Office and sent off my driving license renewal form. I feel strange about handing it in. It's invaluable, an identity card by any other name. The renewal turnover time isn't said to be long - unless it get lost. I sent it 'recorded delivery' in the hope that it won't get lost. I'll need it, and an International Driving Permit, when I return to Spain.

On my way back home I saw that 'Oriel Canfas'  contemporary art gallery was open. At the moment, it's exhibiting puppetry by Frankie Locke and Pete Raymond with colourful paintings portraying the puppets in their own realm, by Barbara Leith. She has painted some elements of her subject spilling over on to the picture frame. She said she'd have preferred to paint on the walls, so this was a compromise! It a way it was a statement about the power of stories which cannot be confined by imagination.

All three artists have a background in stage design and scenic arts with WNO. The puppets are carved from wood and painted. Sets of them are used to tell specific stories: Jonah and the Whale, Tobias and the Angel, The Owl and the Pussycat, George and the Dragon, for example. There's a Punch and Judy stall whose puppets are also depicted in proscenium arch vignettes. It's all beautifully conceived and executed, appealing to imaginative people of all ages. I found it most uplifting, a real delight, and all just a few streets away from home.

By the time I got back, Clare had returned from another session at the Optometry School and was cooking lunch. I got to work on finishing this week's Sway, which needed a few modifications, once I'd run it past Iona, rather later this week. It was nearly five by the time I finished and went for a walk in the park. It's getting noticeably lighter day my day now. Slowly we're getting back a decent length afternoon in daylight. I'm being careful to increase my daily walking distance gradually. I'm back to 80% already and feeling none the worse for it. I was fearful of losing fitness after lying low for several days, as this does happen when you get older, apparently. Lucky so far, it seems.

After supper I watched another couple  of episodes of 'Bones', and then got to work on booking myself a flight to Malaga. Nothing available with Vueling from Cardiff at the end of Easter week when I need to fly, so I had to choose EasyJet from Bristol, as I did last year. It's just a bit cheaper to take the airport shuttle bus from Sophia Gardens to Bristol than it is to take a taxi to the airport, funnily enough. I have a Saturday lunchtime flight, which cost a hundred and seventy quid on its own. 

As Clare comes out in mid-May on a date yet undecided, it may be possible to book flights home to Cardiff with Vueling, as the summer timetable will be operating then, although an early flight would be prohibitive as it takes an hour to get to the airport by coach. Or else stay overnight in Malaga. This has been complex to plan in times past. We'll see how it turns out. There's plenty of time.

EasyJet booking website annoyingly defaults to booking two flights at a time rather than one. I had to log into my EasyJet account and navigate my way to a booking page where I could book a single flight in order to avoid a very costly error. I think it may be a matter of deleting cookies to avoid this in future.

Anyway, I'm two steps forward in planning for locum duty. When I get my new license, I can buy my international driver permit, and some travel insurance, and then I'll be ready to travel. Now bed-time.

Return to Fuengirola

I woke up just before my phone announced that it was time to post the link for today's Morning Prayer to WhatsApp. It's dry and cloudy, the sun looks like it will break through eventually, but sadly my flight to Málaga will start at sunset.

After breakfast, just a few minor adjustments to my travel bags, and then some time to relax and reflect. In the past I've usually been too much in a last minute packing frenzy to sit quietly for a while. I admit that I am nervous, setting out on another long period of locum duty. It's in a familiar pastoral setting, but any ministry has as many unknowns as it does routine activities. The surprise element is what I enjoy. 

Thankfully, I'm well and fairly fit for my age, but still affected by that slip down the lower stairs. My ankle is OK for normal walking. It's at the end of a good long walk that it tends to play up now, but maybe that's just a symptom of old age. I'm looking forward to the coming months, not anxious about travel, but it's just hard getting started, out of the door and on my way, leaving behind set domestic routine, and above all leaving my best beloved Clare. Sadly it'll be two months before she joins me.

We went for a circuit of Thompson's Park together before I collected my bags from the house and we parted company at the end of the street. I had to walk pretty briskly to avoid missing the bus and got there with only five minutes to spare. We underestimated the time our farewell pasito would take. The coach driver in her hi-viz with blonde hair tied back had a passing resemblance to Sarah Lancashire playing Sergeant Catherine Cawood in 'Happy Valley', but with a good Welsh Valleys accent.

There were just eight of us on the coach to the airport. After the third pick-up stop in Newport, I started eating the turkey sandwiches prepared last night. I inadvertently put them in the freezer, not the fridge, and they were far from thawed! Having made haste to catch the coach, and wearing extra winter layers, I was feeling overheated, and  eating the sandwiches cooled me down nicely. The coach arrived at two twenty, and by quarter to three I was in the departure lounge with a two hour wait before me. EasyJet's flight to Malaga left on time and was completely full. A lot of those on board seem to be party guests for someone's big birthday fiesta. Much expensive in-flight booze was consumed, but everyone was quite good natured, except for an adolescent sitting next to me. 

His behaviour was bizarre and childish for a fourteen your old. I suspect he was high on some illegal substance. At first I was quite disturbed that he kept his phone on throughout the flight  taking photos or mini videos, chatting to someone far away, if not to his mate in the seat ahead of him. Then, I realised that a number of people were also on their phones throughout. It seems EasyJet now offer in-flight wi-fi and it's used for passengers to download an on-board sales and order menu. I remember some years back when Kath sent me an in-flight email, from a Norwegian airline's flight, excited about the fact that she could do this for the first time. I couldn't be bothered, and switched off until we were just about to land, and I thought I'd change the time zone.

Jen and John met me at the arrivals gate, and brought me back to Casa de Esperanza, the Chaplaincy House, already warming up to welcome me, with some food in the fridge to tide me over until I can go shopping tomorrow. The house internet has been switched exclusively to fibre broadband. There are no landline phones any longer, all is wi-fi calling using a mobile phone. There is a chaplain's phone, but I won't get that until tomorrow, as Jen forgot to bring it tonight. That will give me an WhatsApp calling circle of people in the chaplaincy orbit, and I guess F.D.s and wedding arrangers, should these be necessary. It took me a while to find the router and password on a piece of paper tucked underneath it. After weeks of non-use, it needed rebooting to work properly. It's not fast by UK standards, but it works. That's all that matters.

I had some tostado with olive oil and some fruit. All I felt I needed for tonight. Now it's time to turn in, with the sound of a cold wind blowing outside.

Postal error compounded

A frosty start to the day, with bright sunshine. I woke up in time to post my Morning Prayer YouTube link to WhatsApp just before my phone notification sounded - a minor satisfaction. After breakfast a visit to Tesco Express to buy this week's food bank grocery offering before attending the Eucharist at St John's. Only five of us this morning. Icy pavements and car windscreens are a deterrent to the cautious. 

When I returned from church, the postman had already called with the small parcel containing Owain's Christmas present, sent us by Ann, as she didn't have his current address the day she was in a mail sending frenzy to bear pre-Christmas postal strikes. When it didn't arrive she checked at the sending office and had it confirmed that that parcel had yet to leave there. It went eventually, arriving about five weeks later, at a guess. It had a big postage stamp on it, the kind printed at the counter, and dated 6th December 2022, the day of posting. The edge of the label was wrinkled and degraded a little. Whoever handled it in Cardiff sorting office decided this parcel was wrapped in re-cycled brown paper from which an old stamp hadn't been removed, and imposed the postage charge again. Errors at both ends. I sent Ann a photo of the parcel plus the notification card left in our letter box, so she can use these to start a complaint.

For lunch I cooked a pork steak in the remains of yesterday's tomato sauce for myself, and a chunk of cod for Clare, plus veggies. She returned from a shopping trip to Cardiff Market with a large bag of fresh fish to keep in the freezer from Ashton's. Next month's supplies!

As EasyJet emailed me a check-in reminder this morning, I thought it would be a good idea to book a ticket for the direct coach to Bristol Airport. I walked to the ticket office in Sophia Gardens to renew my discount coach card, and a return ticket. Twenty five quid altogether, much the same as the cost of the train fare and airport shuttle from Temple Meads, and taking about the same amount of time without the need for a change of transport. Then I walked into town and had another look in the John Lewis Sale to see if there was any new potential bargain, but there was nothing of interest. 

I caught the 61 bus home. There were no buses waiting in Westgate Street, and when I was walking up to the next stop outside the Holiday Inn, a 61 passed me. I increased my pace, and when I rounded the corner saw the bus was still boarding passengers at the stop, I broke into a run for about thirty yards, and just made it as the doors were closing. Amazingly my injured ankle wasn't at all distressed by this, nor did it swell up later, so the last week's improvement is sustained, though I still need to be careful.

Clare went out to a Fountain Choir practice. I didn't think there was much point in learning music that I won't be around to sing, so I stayed in and saw 'Winterwatch' and another episode of 'Madame Blanc Mysteries' on telly. I found out when googling that although set in the South of France at a place called Ste Victoire, it was actually filmed in the Maltese Islands, mainly in Gozo with some lovely scenery. The setting of Ste Victoire in these ex-pat detective stories is fictitious portraying an inland village quite close to the sea. The real place of that name lies east of Aix en Provence, about 30 miles from the coast, at Marseille. The name belongs to a 1000m high rocky outcrop ten miles long west to east, known as the Montagne de Ste Victoire, a famed subject of Paul Cezanne's paintings. It has its amusing moments, but progresses with little tension or drama at a rather dull pace. Like other telly series about Brits abroad it fails to stimulate much interest. Soporific, if you want to go to bed straight after it. But on this occasion I decided to check in for next Thursday's flight and get my boarding pass before turning in for the night.

From Remembrance to Winterfest

I woke up five minutes before my seven fifteen alarm sounded this morning, and was walking to Saint Catherine's to celebrate the eight o'clock Eucharist with eight others twenty minutes later. Home then for a leisurely breakfast before driving to St German's in good time to start the Solemn Mass of Remembrance Sunday with the two minute silence at eleven. On the way through the city centre a saw several besuited men wearing service medals walking to or from the Castle's Remembrance Poppies field, on their ways to the national cenotaph in Cathays Park behind City Hall. 

It was nearly half past one by the time I reached home afterwards, the road was busy with more traffic than usual I thought. Not because it's Remembrance Sunday, but because many people are already thinking about Christmas shopping and making a start on it. The city centre Christmas market is already under way, bringing extra light and colour to the streets around St John's. A skating rink has been built in the part of the Castle grounds not occupied by the Remembrance Poppies field, a big Ferris wheel has been erected, plus a small artificial ski slope on the lawn in front of City Hall and the Museum. 

I think the official launch of the city centre pre-Christmas 'Winter Wonderland' special activities is next week. This includes a night time walk in the dark through the Bute Park arboretum, decorated with a light show. We noticed yesterday that a large section of the woodland has been cordoned off with fencing, not just for the lighting installation, but also to create a zone you must pay to enter. Last Christmas it was too wet to become a mass attraction. Will it be a success this year, or another failed entertainment project, expensive to arrange, and expensive to go and visit? I wonder.

After lunch, I booked Clare's return journey from Malaga next Easter on the same flight as me. It's taken a fortnight to get around to doing it, so the homebound flight cost three times as much as the outbound. After an exchange of messages with Kath, she has booked flights for Anto, Rhiannon and herself to fly out for Easter weekend, and celebrate my birthday, which is on Easter Tuesday this year. That's a special birthday treat for me, and hopefully for them too. They did the same thing eight years ago when I was last in Fuengirola for Holy Week and Easter.

I don't enjoy booking flights these days as it's more complex, with too many options, and lots of extras pitched at you in the course of purchase, which you have to skip over, insurance, hotel, car hire, extra baggage etc, even though they may be irrelevant to you if you only want a flight. So many extra choices to make whether to take up or avoid. It's like passing through an oriental market and having traders pull at your sleeve or yell or wave things at you, holding you up.  I come away from the flight booking process stressed and tired. With all those distractions comes a greater risk of making mistakes. There has to be a better way, apart from getting someone younger and more savvy to do it for you.

Clare's study group arrive at four. Time for me to go for a walk  and clear my head. An hour and a half in the Thompson's Park as the sun was setting, then half a circuit of Llandaff Fields as dusk arrived was enough to sort me out. After supper, I watched three episodes I hadn't seen of Stanley Tucci's Italian gastro-tourism series, Calabria, Sardinia and Puglia. All very interesting and beautifully filmed, and so many regional dishes, food products, eating experiences portrayed, but not a good idea to binge watch. I felt a bit nauseous by the end, my imagination working overtime with all that 'virtual' tasting. Nothing that a cup of lemon and ginger tea couldn't cure before turning in for the night. 

Mission aborted in Palma

I get about five hours sleep and was up at hour eating a picnic breakfast of chicken pieces, bread and apple with a cup of decaf instant coffee. At five the hotel shuttle bus took a group of us to the airport. Bag drop was only open two hours before the flight this early. There were lengthy queues and then a long wait to clear security. My bag got picked up because the scanner couldn't identify a squeezed tube of Tea Tree ointment. It took thirty five minute to get to the departure lounge, about twice as long as flights later in the day if I remember rightly. 

I didn't hear the flight called, I don't know why. I knew the gate closes at 6.35, and at 6.25 wondered about this and checked to board only to discover that it said 'Last Call'. I got to the gate, last but four, with a determined dash and all was well from then on, except that the flight waited twenty minutes or so to take off, and was that much arriving late. I think the reason why I missed the first flight call is owing to the fact that in times past, arriving at the start of bag drop invariably meant a two hour wait. Boredom after an hour usually gets me on my feet checking the board for something to do. Rarely is anything of interest on offer in the shops or duty free zone.

From the airport I took the number one bus into town to the train station, as I had instructions to get from there to the Ministry of the Interior Office on foot. On the way I looked out for a bank to visit and get the €3.78 fee paid in advance, a prerequisite of getting the form processed. I queued for half an hour in a Banco Santander branch, only to be told that there were two other banks which acted as recipients for Government charges, Caixa and BBVA. He also said his bank's system wasn't able to recognise and make use of my passport number, and that I needed a NIE or NIF identifying number. I guess our equivalent is an NHS number. 

I went and found a branch of Caxa, where I was impressed to see several ATM machines designed to process forms and stamp them with a payment receipt after using one's bank card and the filled in form. I queued there for a quarter of an hour, only to learn the same thing about NIE and NIF numbers being required on their system, and not passport numbers, although the requisite form states NIE/NIF/Passport. Without payment, no form processing. Mission aborted. The second time.

I was very upset and didn't know where to turn. I emailed Emma at the diocesan office and very soon Laura, one of the safeguarding officers called me back, at a loss to understand, as this had not happened to anyone else called upon to undergo a police check. Well, if any of them had for some reason been in Spain long enough to register for an NIF oe NIE, it's not a problem they would have come across. I've worked a lot of time in Spain but the issue of registering has never cropped up. I am 'undocumented' as far as Spanish State bureaucracy is concerned. 

Ironically, if I had been arrested, or even deported at some time for an offence, this would be flagged up to border control. Having never had my personal details taken by any police officer for any reason, I am invisible to the system. It's an anomaly. It has cost me a lot of time and now money to no good purpose. I can have a go at registering when I get to Malaga in the summer, as I can rely on help there, but my appeal for help here has fallen on deaf ears.

At half past one I gave up and started hunting for a place to stay overnight. I found one in the old town barrio of Almodina, where the Cathedral is situated. A fifteenth century building converted into an hotel twenty years ago, small, quiet and utterly lovely. I can see the Cathedral's north side from my balcony. It's called 'Dalt Murada', meaning 'Above the Walls' a great place to stay. Fifty quid a night bed and breakfast.

I had five hours of daylight to wander and take photos. It was very windy but bright and sunny, good for taking photos! I walked out at night too, without a camera, and missed some great night shots, as many building are nicely floodlit. The Cathedral looks awesome from a distance. Sadly it had just closed to visitors when I passed by. Never mind, this would be a great place to bring Clare at some time in the future.

Travel plans in place at last

My Llandaff diocese CRB check certificate arrived in this morning's post and was immediately sent of to the Provincial office for inspection as required. That won't be necessary next time round in five years, as the Church in Wales as well as me will have recourse to the full on-line service by then. It's a shame the Province is that far behind the CofE, which went digital five years ago.

I called the EHIC Plus help-desk after breakfastt and discussed my travel insurance premium. I found out that the standard rate could be applied if my condition awaiting the final operation was exempted from the policy. This seems reasonable to me. I am managing things well, and bearing in mind what happened in Montreux 18 months ago, would rather fly home and go to the nearest A&E, if anything threatened to de-rail my progress than seek surgery abroad. Follow through specialised treatment in situ would be impossible as a temporary resident. I believe the risk of anything going wrong is very low, both surgeons and my GP didn't seem to think so, and I can't be the first and only person to be in this position before. I paid over the phone and within minutes the policy documents arrived by email.

With that done, I set about investigating travel arrangements. The only outbound EasyJet flight to Mallorca from Bristol in the first week of March leaves at seven in the morning, so I'll be obliged to take the 02h30 coach from Cardiff to the airport, something I've done once before, though I can't remember when. When I get to Palma, I'll be able to visit the local branch of the Ministry of the Interior and apply in person for the Spanish police check. This may take a day or so to see though properly, so I'll stay at least one or two nights in a Hostal, and then take the ferry to Ibiza. I may even get to do some sightseeing!

I couldn't find a direct return flight, but there was an 08h40 Vueling flight to Barcelona, and another EasyJet flight to Bristol three hours after landing. I believe (I hope) they use the same terminal. KLM offered possibilities of a flight to Cardiff or Bristol via Schipol, but their website is pretty unfriendly compared to Vueling and to EasyJet, so I soon lost interest. I was amazed at how much time it took to do the research and book the flights. It was late by the time got out for a walk. I set out in the dry but got drenched by a heavy shower toward the end, so I covered the shortest distance of the week.

I am so looking forward to resuming pastoral ministry with one community for a couple of months, as opposed to being on call by the Cardiff Area Deans or our own Team Rector to fill in wherever the need exists. As it's Lent and Eastertide, this measure of continuity is mutually beneficial. I can maybe plan with the church pastoral team how to go about the teaching side of ministry over that period. I'll have an opportunity and time to prepare fresh material to use as well, which I find stimulating. Even so, I can't help but feel nervous about getting started again, and perhaps that nervousness added to the difficulties I had with travel planning. Being stuck at home and so vulnerable for such a long time has left its mark on me, over and above physical injury.

Today, priority booking for the 20-21 WNO season of opera performances opens, so I went down to the Millennium Centre and bought the selection of tickets which Clare and I had decided upon before she went to Arizona. Not only do we get seats in the row we want, but also at a 15% discount. It's one of the special things we enjoy about living in Cardiff, just a short journey away from a world class opera house and performing company.

Home journey

After about six hours broken sleep, I rose at 05.15. This gave me just enough time to treat my wound, sort out a travel first aid kit to go in my cabin rucksack with my breakfast sarnies, take the remaining rubbish out to the communal bins, bag up things to be collected for washing, then get myself across the road for the 06.23 S2 stopping train to Montreux gare. The 06.47 from there got me to Geneva airport at 07.59. Unlike when Clare travelled early last week, there were no crowds and no queues. I dropped off my bag and passed through into the departure lounge in a record 15 minutes from the train, which gave me a two and a half hour wait to boarding. This meant standing most of the time, as the hard seats available weren't designed for comfort. The train and plane seats were also quite firm, so getting comfortable meant bracing myself for support.

I had to wait for the airport bus and for a train at Temple Meads (which was delayed 5 minutes) and then got on a 61 bus home with enough time to drop off my bags at home and walk to the doctors. On Romilly Crescent, however, there was a 200m queue of stationary traffic, so I begged the driver to let me off in between stops, and walked straight to the surgery pulling my case and got there in good time. I came away with a week's course of penicillin to take, and a supplement to my existing blood pressure medication to try out. Inevitably, the surgery reading take was high, given the time I'd been travelling and the associated stress, so I'll wait and see how my readings are this week, while the antibiotic medication gets to work on what remains of the abscess.

Apart from unpacking and eating a meal, the remainder of the day was spent resting. The journey really took it out of me, so just relaxing at home after the stress of the past few weeks is a blessing.  I'm glad that me diary is empty for the weeks ahead.
   

Parting and recuperating

It was a pack, tidy up and wash sheets type morning before Clare and Rhiannon departed for Geneva and their return flight to Birmingham. I went to the Quai Sante medical centre early, to collect my bill, pick up a GP referral letter for Clare to take home with her, and have a final inspection from Mr Cotton, before he discharged me. All I have to do is keep the wound clean and let it breathe. Nature will do the rest. Certainly the bill is affordable, since I received extra for the wedding blessings. It was a great relief. I should be able to recuperate two thirds of the expense after paying a premium reducing excess. 

I did some food shopping and returned to Church House within the hour, in good time a accompany Clare and Rhiannon to Montreux gare by bus for their 11.47 train. This time around, I took the cash and paid the bill. A satisfying sensation. Now I have to download an insurance claims form and hope for the best that I fill it in correctly. But that's for another day.

Clare said they had to wait 45 minutes to drop off their bags at the airport, and were glad to have got an earlier train and have enough time reach the boarding gate as the flight was being called. Later in the evening she messaged me to say she was on her way to Birmingham New Street, having met up with Kath and Anto at the airport to hand over Rhiannon. She got back home by ten, eleven hours after we parted company in Montreux. The rest of my day was spent 'in rest and quietness' reading not venturing out again, even though it was sunny all day. It's what it needed to do most. 

Late arrivals

Yesterday afternoon, Joy and Geoff took me up to Monica' house up the mountainside at Les Avants for a Bible study session and afternoon tea. We were treated to a deliciously light chocolate sponge cake which her sixteen year old grandson had baked. He has no ambition to be a chef or pastrycook, he just loves baking, and works with recipes researched on the internet. Our study compared Mark and Luke's versions of the Transfiguration story, and then looked a 2 Peter 1 "We were eyewitnesses of his majesty ..." I'm impressed at how this regular group meeting has persisted since the last Chaplain left. I can't think of any chaplaincy bible study group that's survived an interregnum apart from here. It doesn't matter that it's rarely more than half a dozen people, it's core commitment that counts.

Both Clare and Ann's flights were due to land mid evening, with a connecting train arriving at half part ten. After celebrating the midweek BCP Holy Communion service with Geoff, and doing some shopping, it was a long day of waiting with a couple of hours spent cooking a spicy veggie soup for a late supper. Clare's flight was delayed ten minutes on leaving. For interest, I tracked it down to its final approach run on the EasyJet app, but then had an unexpected wait, as the aircraft was hindered from discharging passengers and luggage by a heavy downpour and thunderstorm. For this reason they missed a connecting train which would have delivered them to Territet gare, across the road from the house by eleven, but arrived  at Montreux gare instead just before a quarter to midnight.

Joy very kindly offered to meet them and bring them back to Church House, and I went with her. As they were still on British time, they weren't too tired for such a late supper, so it was a good hour before we got to bed, and longer before sleep took over, due to the heat and the excitement. So, we all slept late. After lunch, Clare and Ann went for a walk as far as the Chateau to Chillon, but I had to stay behind, as pain from my problematic piles left me feeling quite unwell. I stayed in bed much of the day. Thankfully, as Ann is a retired nurse familiar with this affliction, she, proposed a routine to manage the episodes of extreme discomfort with regular low doses of ibuprofen and buscopan. Needless to say, I'm willing to give it a go!

Back to Montreux - yet again

Free at last to get on with packing, I had all of Wednesday and half of Thursday, to prepare and pack for my six week stint in Montreux, where it promises to be as hot, even hotter than Cardiff for several weeks to come. It's rare that I don't bother to think about packing a pullover - just in case! As ever I exercised myself over which cameras to take, and ended up eliminating my Alpha 68 and its lenses on the grounds of weight in my rucksack cabin bag. On the outbound journey, it would be necessary to carry a cool bag and a couple of freezer packs to keep the tubes of ointment prescribed by Lt Col Davies at fridge temperature, and this couldn't go in my hold baggage just in case it got lost in transit. The worry I had was about getting the cold package through security. It the event it turned out not to be a problem as the screening staff were very understanding.

Clare drove me to the station for the two o'clock train to Bristol, which was on time. However before it arrived, an announcement was made about the next train to arrive at platform two, which was for Manchester. If the Bristol train had been announced it was before I got on to the platform and before it came in. Most confusing. There's evidently no co-ordination between the team which manages the platform and the announcement broadcast. To compound the error, when the correct train arrived, in its shine new bright GWR green livery, it had no destination panel that I could see, or at least if it had one, it wasn't lit up. There wasn't even a quick printed out notice affixed to the train windscreen or side windows. It could have been going anywhere. How dumb is this!

Anyway I arrived at the airport in good time, and quickly checked in with the new automatic check in system working well. There were long summer queues passing through security clearance at fair pace, so within a quarter of an hour of getting off the buss, I was in the departure lounge. No long after, the phone's EasyJet app issued the first of two flight delay notifications. French air traffic controllers are at it again, unfortunately, holding Europe, not just France to ransom. In the end our flight was an hour delayed, which meant that my train from Geneva to Montreux got in at half past midnight.  

By the time I had something to eat and unpacked, it was two in the morning, and too hot to lie under covers, though not unpleasant. It was nearly ten by the time I surfaced for breakfast. Before lunch I walked to the shops in town to buy additional veggies and a few other food supplies to get start me off domestically speaking. Later in the afternoon I had a visit from the mother of the infant I am due to baptise tomorrow afternoon, to check out certain elements of the service. Her husband's parents and two brothers are driving from Italy where they've been on holiday, to attend the service. Her  family live in Lausanne. He's Swedish and she's Belgium, and all are fluent English speakers. The couple were married several years ago in St John's, so it's a pleasure to welcome them back.

Walking along the flower bedecked promenade this afternoon was such a delight, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. This is my third visit in just a twelvemonth, to a region where I still feel very much at home and alive in spirit. I'm so grateful for the blessing of having so much pleasure in the performance of ministry duties in my old age.

  

Homeward bound

Thanks to having booked an afternoon flight, I had the leisure of a whole morning to pack, strip the bed, take the recycling and rubbish out to the collecting point nearby, before walking to Montreux gare. I got there and booked my ticket early enough to catch the through train to Geneva airport, but found this had been cancelled, and replaced by a stopping train as far as Lausanne, where a choice of trains would to get me there would be possible. I think there are at least four every hour. I didn't need to catch this, but thought - what if the train 20 minutes later I planned to catch was cancelled as well? Whatever the reason for one cancellation, there's no guarantee it won't be followed by another, so I took the stopping train.

As far as Vevey, I chatted to a lady whom I had met while queueing to buy a ticket. She asked me if the ticket office did a money changing service, and I said that I thought not. She boarded the train at the same time as I did, and needed reassurance about when the train reached Vevey. I think she had not travelled on this line before. She was on the way to visit a friend, and had come from Germany. If she came via Basel and Lausanne, she may have missed her stop and needed to double back. We spoke in French and she told me she was from South America. I couldn't resist speaking a few words of Spanish as we parted company, and this raised a smile.

In Lausanne, I had to change platforms, then ten minutes later, the train arrived which I had intended to catch, and by two o'clock, three quarters of an hour later, I was queueing at the EasyJet bag drop with the returning skiers, many looking tired or hung over. Already a hundred people were waiting, but the staff managed the increasing numbers checking in so well that I only waited fifteen minutes. There were no queues at all at the security clearance gates. I guess people checked in ahead of me may have chose to eat lunch or drink before going through. I'd eaten on the train, so went into the departures area to wait the hour until the boarding gate was announced, time which quickly passed doing my Duolingo French and Spanish drills for the day, and sending messages.

You're told to allow twenty minutes to walk from the Departures area to the gate 'island' EasyJet uses for departing flights. This includes time for passport control, where there can be queues, but all four 

duty officers were unoccupied when I passed through. Time seemed to pass quickly and boarding began ten minutes early, which is understandable, as the flight was full, and many passengers had brought bulky hand baggage on board, some of which had to be relegated to the hold, adding time to the departure process. 

Even so, we left on time and flew all the way to Bristol over continuous cloud cover as the sun was setting. The pilot told us that the aircraft would turn west north of Gatwick and roughly follow the M4 most of the rest of the way. Watching the sun move from the window I was sitting beside, to the window ahead of me, was the only time in the flight I had a rough idea of journey progress. 

When we landed, we were delayed from disembarkation by some problem with the mobile stairs, which approached the aircraft and stopped short, where attempts were make to get the height of approach and ramp extension correct. It made me wonder if the person driving the machine was uncertain of what they were doing. This had the pilot call for another set of steps to be fetched for disembarking from the rear door. It was an amusing episode, which at least gave some passengers time to get their coats on, and cabin bags out ready to move.

It's the second time in six months that I've flown out of and into Bristol, and had to use the ePassport gates. These are now so slick and quick, I didn't expect to be through so  quick. The technology used previously for the ePassport gates has been replaced, and the number of booths doubled. I'd hazard a guess that rather than a local face recognition scan being compared initially to the national passport database, it's linked to an airport server containing the passport details of all on the passenger list for the flight in question. All this information is available to take advantage of from the moment anyone checks in for their flight. But, it does require a huge amount of reliable computing resources. Fine it it works, chaos when it doesn't.

Bus then to Temple Meads Station and a convenient train to Cardiff and bus to Pontcanna. Home in time for the Archers, and supper at the usual time, with thankfully, no mail needing attention, just my Windows 10 PC's in need of updating. After a month or longer away, this is always an irksome task taking hours, or get caught out later when you really need to use one quickly. Thank heavens for instantly updating Chromebook, despite its few minor irritations. I'll sleep well tonight. 

   

Return to Switzerland

After a leisurely day of packing yesterday, I woke up to heavy rain. This ruled out walking to the Coach station, so I called for a taxi. The company advised leaving much earlier than usual just in case there was traffic congestion on Cathedral Road, which is usually the case on a normal working day, but being Christmas holiday week, it turned out to be more like a Sunday morning, so I arrived with three quarters of an hour to wait instead of fifteen minutes. Very little was done to prepare bus shelters for waiting passengers when the temporary coach station was established two years ago, so those in place are open to the elements. At least, the early rain had almost stopped and there was no wind, but I was glad to be wearing my old padded ski jacket.

The coach to Bristol Airport got me there dead on time, a ninety minute journey, same as the train and local bus combination, but cheaper and more relaxing despite cramped coach seats, rather like airline ones. I arrived five minutes before the auto-check in system for the Geneva flight was due to start, but was able to check in at a proper desk with a real counter clerk instead. For once, it too me twenty minutes to clear security, though not because queues were long or slow, rather, it was due to me being selected for a random scrupulous check, which entailed emptying my rucksack of all my digital devices including cameras, and everything being put through the scanner. I didn't mind, as there was no rush with two hours to the boarding flight call.

Altogether, I spent over three and a half hours waiting in the departure lounge, as our flight arrival was delayed. The pilot later explained this was their third round trip of four to Geneva for the day. The first two had been flights from Edinburgh, where the airport was still recovering from previous days of snow induced chaos. It could have been much worse. I was relived to get away as planned. I had to wait ages to retrieve my luggage at the other end, as it was in the last of four loads fetched in from the aircraft. There must have been two or possibly three flights arriving in close proximity, as half a dozen if not more of the passport booths in an arrival hall used by budget airlines were busy dealing with a huge crowd, and at a fair turn of speed, given the vital thoroughness of the process. 

By seven I was at the airport train station, buying an abonnement demi-tarif and ticket to Montreux. I had tried to buy on-line last night, but the payment system wasn't working. Never mind, I got a properly printed abonnement in a ticket wallet, which beats a crumpled print-out any time. I didn't have long to wait for a Montreux train, there are two or three every hour. I sat in a carriage which had another passenger from the Bristol flight, and we started chatting, after she'd noticed my cross and asked the reason for wearing it. She told me she attended neighbouring All Saints Vevey Anglican church. In fact, we'd both been at the same community luncheon back in September, when she was still on crutches following a hip operation. Such a small world!

Jane met me at Montreux gare and took me to St John's Church house. By half past nine I was installed and inspecting a fridge generously stocked with enough essentials to get me through the weekend and two days of public holiday that follow here. It was raining, just as it was in Cardiff this morning, only heavier. So pleased to be back again.

   

Homecoming

I woke up at 05.20 with nearly seven hours reasonable sleep behind me, and was relieved to find I could move reasonably well, as long I moved carefully. After breakfast and a final inspection of the house, I locked the house and walked to Montreux gare for the 07.24 train with twenty minutes to spare. As this train stops only at Lausanne and Genece Cornavin before the airport, it's one of the fastest of the day, an hour and ten minutes. It's crowded with commuters, students, teachers and business workers, as well as heavily laden travellers destined for the airport. I had to walk through a couple of carriages to find an empty luggage rack, let alone a seat. 

Having found both, I went to sit down, and was greeted by a smiling friendly face - Bethany-Ann, who'd been in church with her five year old daughter yesterday for the midweek Communion service, such a delightful surprise. She teaches English in both Lausanne and Geneva's Webster Universities, travelling this route by train to work several times a week. So instead of gazing at the sunrise over the lake and dozing, I enjoyed an hour's good conversation all the way to Geneva. 

Bethany-Ann's father is a retired American Lutheran pastor in Philadelphia. She teaches students from around the world, many from Arab countries. She said how filled with hope her Saudi students are at the rise of a young Crown Prince able to give them a voice through his progressive thinking and actions. Her younger sister is an academic who began as a French graduate to learn Arabic and now researches and writes on Islamic culture. Bethany-Ann is married to a Kosovan Muslim who was a refugee at the time of the Yugoslavian war and made his home in Switzerland. Such is the everyday diversity of a significant proportion of the inhabitants of Switzerland. It made for a happy conclusion to my stay.

The airport was busy. Twenty minutes to drop off my suitcase, but only ten minutes to go through security. The flight landed at Bristol ten minutes early, and I was soon on a bus for Temple Meads station. My twenty minute wait for a train turned into a half an hour wait, as the train was delayed due to 'cows on the line', which makes a change from 'leaves on the line' I suppose. Clare met me with the car at Cardiff Central, to save me lugging my case to the nearest bus stop. Home by two.

As ever, there were Windows PCs to be updated and made fit for purpose, before attempting any work on them. Sister in Law Ann arrived for the weekend at four, and Owain at six, then we walked together to 'La Cuina', the Catalan restaurant at the bottom of King's Road, for the first of Clare's birthday meals, a superb gourmet affair with an excellent bottle of Catalan wine from Vallibona de les Monjes, due north of Tarragona. Unfortunately, it rained on us as we walked home, not that it dampened our spirits after a splendid night out.

  

Journey to Switzerland

Yesterday morning, I celebrated the Eucharist at St John's with nine others, took my leave of them and returned home immediately to finish off packing my case and eating an early lunch. Just after one, Mary our neighbour drove us to Cardiff Central station to take the train to Bristol, with lots of time to spare, just in case there were delays in arriving at Temple Mead station. This happened to us the last time we travelled over to Bristol Airport to fly to Budapest a year ago, causing unwanted and stressful delay in arriving for our flight. This time, all was well, except that the airport shuttle bus stop has moved from one side of the station entrance to the other for the first time in all the years we have been using the service.

Bristol Airport was, as to be expected in mid-August, quite busy. People were queuing, but moving through the check-in area surprisingly quickly. Check-in desks were apparently replaced just last month by an array of automatic self-service terminals, supported by airline staff. The system is very simple. Your flight ticket QR code is scanned, your bag is weighed, and as long as it conforms to the prescribed weight limit and content declaration, the machine prints a baggage label which you apply yourself. The bag is then taken to the usual check-in desk site and placed on a conveyor, where the label is scanned to check that it's the correct one issued against the ticket. 

I think the label may have an RFID tag plus a bar code to make it recognisable to both standard systems in use at different airports. The technology now being rolled out to regional airports has been around for some years and it works impressively. Staff are available to help travellers on a friendly face to face basis, but are more efficiently used, as those used to this routine check themselves in and move on quickly.

There was a queue of several dozen moving at a steady pace through the security clearance area. This too has been remodelled in the past year. There are now six luggage and people scanning terminals, half of which were in use. This procedure only took us ten minutes surprisingly, and is a testimony to improved efficiency. People moan about long delays at larger airports. Well, Bristol's queue of maybe fifty people at a time, scaled up five or ten times at any moment in a bigger airport, even with a bigger system working at full capacity, will scale up the delay in getting through. It's still amazingly efficient at processing people unless the technology fails, or staff don't show up for work when expected. Millions of people around the world, on the move, day and night, and under such constraints. It's a remarkable everyday achievement.

As testimony to increased airline traffic, our flight was twenty minutes late taking off, and made up five minutes en route. The queue at passport control was long and slow, and although this meant we picked up our luggage as soon as we arrived to reclaim it, we missed the half part nine InterRegio train to Montreux by a few minutes, and had to wait forty minutes for the next one. Church Warden Jane met us at Montreux Gare at twenty to midnight, and drove us the last kilometre to St John's Church House.

While the church is characteristically Victorian (dating from 1875) and Anglican in appearance, the house adjoining is characteristically Swiss with shutters and dormer windows in the roof space. The upper interior is entirely clad with wooden panelling, and has four bedroom, two bathrooms, a large landing space and a small upstairs rood terrace in the space between house and church. It's a very spacious house, and the only disadvantage, like so many English churches of this period, is that it's by a busy main road and railway line. Thankfully, it's pretty quiet at night, and we slept well.

    

Hail and farewell

After yesterday's walking tours of Granada and Nerja, and driving we managed to wake up in good time to catch the bus from outside the apartment to the Alameida so that Owain to take the airport train. He missed one by a minute because three out of the four ticket machines in the station were out of order, but still arrived in good time to clear security and catch his home flight to Bristol with EasyJet. I shall miss his company. The apartment seems so quiet, now I'm on my own again. But never mind, Clare will be here next Tuesday.

There were two loads of washing to do and a small amount of food shopping, also photos to upload and people to write to. Being out early in the day meant I acquired a free newspaper, so I gave that some attention to improve my Spanish comprehension and get used to the peculiar journalistic style of writing. As ever there is so much to learn once you've mastered the basics with another language. All good exercise for an ageing mind. Then, finally a walk in the cool of evening before turning in for the night.

 

Home run

Up at six before dawn, to finish packing and cleaning, then Michael arrived to take me to the station as I was finishing breakfast. The 07.10 Regional stopping train was in Vinaros station, lit up and open for business before we got to the platform, as it starts from here, and makes the diversion to Tortosa before heading north to Barcelona. It was an hour later when we were in the vicinity of L'Hospitalet that dawn broke over the sea. By this time the train was filling up with people on their way to Tarragona or even Barcelona, presumably for Christmas shopping. In fact, it was packed for the last hour of the three the early stopping train takes, landing one at Baracelona Sants just after ten. 

I had time for a coffee before taking the shuttle train to the airport, followed by the fifteen minute walk from the station to Terminal C where the EasyJet flights depart from. There must have been 200 people queuing to drop off bags, and it took forty minutes as only two thirds of the check-in desks were staffed. By way of contrast, security clearance took just five minutes, leaving me three quarters of a hour before boarding commenced. We arrived at Bristol ten minutes early and the shuttle bus to Temple Meads was soon transporting us to the station. 

At this point, effortless timely progress slowed somewhat. I just missed the four o'clock train to Cardiff. I got on the 16.24 train, but then we were all ordered off the train, when its cancellation was announced, and had to wait another half an hour for the next. It was 17.50 be the time I reached Cardiff, to be greeted by Rachel, who came to pick me up by car and take me home, an hour later than normal timetabling would predict. Trains in Spain may be fewer and often fuller, but given the distances they cover, they run fairly well on time. Given the opportunity EasyJet will get you there early. As for First Great Western, and their horrible noisy smelly trains, that's another story altogether.

It's great to be home again, except the first job always has to be updating computers neglected during my absence.