Home making, Quiet Day and getting connected

A second day with rain, yesterday, albeit more intermittent. I spent several hours finishing off the preparation for the planned Quiet Day at Cortijo Carranque tomorrow. Then, after lunch, we went to the big El Corte Ingles to look for a few small kitchen items, a sieve, some wooden spoons, a peeler, plus a plastic spatula, a fish slice. We have some excellent stainless steel pans spatulas and fish slice. We also have two fine non-stick frying pans. These would be ruined very quickly if used with any metallic implements. We were't all that successful, but we had tea there to make a fruitless search seem more worthwhile. We would have been better off going to one of the many Chinese hardware supermarkets, which seem to stock everything you can think of, even if the quality may sometimes leave something to be desired. I was amazed to receive a phone call from the Telefonica engineer enquiring if we'd yet acquired a key to the local telecoms distribution box. Sadly the answer was no. Tracking one down is the problem and contacting the keyholder is the problem. 

Today started with driving Clare down to Mogens Dahl, the chiropracter who has worked wonders on my back this past month. She fell and hurt her shoulder a couple of days ago. We were fairly certain it wasn't broken, but out of alignment in its socket. I succeeded in getting an emergency appointment, and the delay wasn't a disadvantage as the initial injury trauma subsided, making the joint a little easier to work on. It meant I had delay departure for Cortijo Carranque for an hour and arrive late, after dropping Clare off in Los Boliches to go on a Chinese supermarket shopping expedition. 

Being late hardly mattered however. It turned out nobody had booked in to attend the quiet day. I enjoyed doing the preparation for this as well as the poorly attended Lent Course. It kept my mind active and focussed on things that matter to me. If few were interested in the offer to share these things, inshallah. I still made the hour's trip up into the Rio Grande Valley for lunch in the open air, with a warm breeze fragrant with orange blossom, and enjoyed good conversation with Angela and Martin, followed by a siesta. We then strolled down through the orchards to the river, plucked some roots of wild mint from the water's edge, to carry back for potting and eventual installation in the yet to be created chaplaincy house garden. Angela picked some orange blossom and half a dozen oranges for me to take home to Clare. The fragrance of the spring sierras now fills our dining room, and fresh oranges were served up for pudding.

And yes, the Telefonica man, bless him, phoned again in the morning to ask about the key. I had to tell him that I expected to obtain a contact number later in day, but couldn't say when that would mean I'd have a key. I hope he understood my careful slow English. Indeed when I got back to Los Boliches, just before six, I tried ringing the contact numbers received during the day, but only found office answering machine messages, barely decipherable. The resident key holder's house, just down the street still appears as if the occupants are away. 

Ah well, the world still has the Chaplaincy mobile phone number, but few callers seem to let it ring for long enough for me to find and unlock it to take the call. Then the auto answering service cuts in with a series of nags and a robotic voice in Spanish which is simply too fast (and often too crackly) for a learner to decipher. Still, I am much comforted by the diligence of the engineer who calls daily for a progress report so that he can get on with hooking us up. I can't imagine getting that quality of service from British Telecom.

Welsh rehearsal up-country

This morning I had to drive to Coin to celebrate the Eucharist in the Iglesia de Cristo, but having forgotten to put by alb in the car, had to go via Los Boliches to pick it up. During the 35km journey I became aware of just how uncomfortable it to drive the car for any length of time, a tribute to their size and shape, sadly. Over coffe after the service, I was asked by Carol to teach her how to sing 'Mae hen wlad fy nhadau' as a choir she belongs to takes part in the St David's Day concert on Saturday evening at the Salon de Variete in Fuengirola.

All she had to guide her was a phonetic version from the internet. There are so many ways of pronouncing phonetics incorrectly, so it was quite difficult at first to get her to listen and repeat after me instead of struggling to read it. You wouldn't easily be able to get the phrasing from that as well. It would have been better to have the properly written script and learn how Welsh is pronounced. Anyway, it was rather hilarious being in a Spanish country restaurant singing the Welsh national anthem loudly, disregarded by all and sundry, even our companions at table.

When I returned, I pottered around the house, getting used to preparing meals in new kitchen, or playing with the dog in the garden, and taking her for a walk. We disturbed a pair of Hoopoes foraging on the track. Not much change of snapping them spontaneously with a dog in tow. Afterwards I walked downhill to the nearby Mercadona  supermarket to re-stock on food. I bought too many heavy things and had to work out how I carry them back without straining myself. It's not a bad exercise for an impatient man to have to walk slowly and stop to redistribute the load in order not to tire one side more than the other. No harm was done, and when I went for my evening appointment, Mogens Dahl the chiropracter was satisfied I'd sustained progress since Monday, so it'll be a week until my next visit.

   

Bare bones experience

I woke at four needing to go to the loo. It took me half an hour to get out of bed with no fixed furniture to cling to for support, managing painful spasms. Once vertical, I was apprehensive about returning to the horizontal, so I dressed and walked slowly to the church office to pick up some different medication left for me there by churchwarden Linda. Thankfully this eased the spasms and increased ease of movement. I sat on the far too soft sofa in a strange half sitting position and slept a further two hours. The pain of entrapment was a slightly easier to cope after sleep, and I didn´t completely seize up when I had to get up and move.

My phone calls to a locally reccomended chiropracter were fruitful. I was given a lunchtime appointment to which I was able to walk carefully, enjoying the warm air and sunshine. It must be half term down here, as there are more youngsters on the streets with their families by day, and more people on the beach. There was even someone out on a surf board, but no waves.

The chiropracter is a tall Danish man called Mogens (the 'g' is silent). His wife acts as his receptionist. They are a lovely charming couple. The treatment feels like tough love, but he administered it with careful attention to detail. We had some marvelously insightful conversation about the body and Tai Chi. His diagnostic tour of my mortal frame was informative and helpful as a wake up call. He observed from touching one spot between my shoulder blades, that I am an habitual fast eater. How true! Can change.

I walked home with the trapped nerve free. The pains of collateral damage will take a few days to subside, but the medication I've received can deal with that. I had lunch when I returned then slept in bed for another two hours. This time it only took a minute to get out of bed, although my right hip did try to go into spasm. It was just time for another dose of medication.

I'm coping reasonably, but have discovered through the experiences of the past forty eight hours just what it is like to live with infirmity or disability all the time, how vulnerable you can become very quickly, when your environment becomes unreliable for movement. Best of all, however, is how marvellously helpful people are - airline and airport staff, church members and the healing profession. I'm most fortunate that my experiences of debility and weakness have been few and far between for most of my life. It's no bad thing to be reminded of this once in a while. It'll educate me better in the art of looking out for the needs of others.