Sitting on the dock of the bay

Back on the Costa Tropical. Yesterday's journey was going swimmingly; both trains were on time. Just as I sent a WhatsApp to S while on the second train, telling him what time I was due at the bus station in Almuñecar, an email pinged into my inbox. It was from Alsa, telling me that for "operational reasons": the bus I'd bought a ticket for would leave at 6:45 instead of 8:30. Helpful. The train didn't get in till ten past seven.

At the bus station in Málaga, the lady in the ticket office told me it would be no problem using my ticket on the 8:15 bus to Nerja where S could pick me up. The bus driver didn't agree though, and persisted in telling me that I had to wait for the 8:30 bus that had already left. Luckily the boss of the bus station was drinking coffee at the bar nearby along with the guy who'd sent the email, so once I'd appealed to him the problem was sorted. Goodness knows what the driver got out of being so obstructive.

Today was a lovely day; we lunched on the terrace of a restaurant on the seafront, and in the evening I went to choir practice where we had mulled wine and nibbles on the spurious pretext that it's nearly Christmas. I was bemused by one of the sopranos having a massive strop because Eusebio asked her to sing second soprano for four bars. I didn't quite understand all that was said, but it sounded rude. "Do you get this in your choir?" whispered F. "No!" Nobody argues with the conductor -- just not done.