Author: Lynne

We never sleep well the night before departure and last night was no exception. It wasn’t helped by the fact that my IBS went into overdrive. That stands for Irritable Bowel Syndrome but on days like this I suffer from BFBS – Bloody Furious Bowel Syndrome. I took some ibuprofen to calm down the bowel inflammation and that got me through the morning but didn’t take any with me. In retrospect I didn’t check the ingredients on the packet so if the tablets’ binder was wheat starch, I could well have made myself worse. Needless to say the day has not been easy because of it.

Packing and closing up the house was progressing nicely when the gardeners came in The Company Limo to spray all the aphid infested plants. The Company Limo is an ancient, once-upon-a-time red Toyota 4 x 4 with no back window. They are lovely lads and one is a seriously fit piece of eye candy. The other one wasn’t half bad either, they both had muscles on their spit. Sorry ladies, my camera was all packed away so I didn’t get any photos of them. Next trip perhaps! We gave them a jar of Mermelada Volcanica each and they were delighted.

Sadly The Company Limo would not start and because our drive is on a slope I got serious view of how those muscles worked as they tried to push it up the slope and out on to the road. All was to no avail but made very nice viewing. So they went across the road to our new French neighbour who has a tow bar on his vehicle, fortunately, and he towed them out on to the road so that they could bump start it. Time to pay for some maintenance on The Company Limo Perran.

Once all the packing was done it was time to load the car, load the dehumidifiers, put dust covers over all the furniture then do the rounds of neighbours to say our goodbyes and deliver jam and unused groceries. We got a delightful goodbye e-mail from Ula and Jürgen to wish us well on our journey but in the event we were able to say goodbye personally and deliver the jams and chutneys. We also gave jams and chutneys to the new French neighbour who helped tow The Company Limo out, and he too was delighted. He seems like a lovely chap and that has opened the way to a positive relationship. See, if you want to spread a little happiness, spread a little jam.

Next it was delivering unused groceries to Audrey and having a brief cuppa and chat with her and Keith, after which we said goodbye to Robert and Marijke. Audrey, Keith, Robert and Marijke already had their jams and chutneys. After all the deliveries we are down to 18 jars and a few sample jars from this trip’s production and way down on the chutney made last September. Recipients were grateful that it is ready for eating now. When I give it to them freshly made they have to wait at least three months do for it to mature and I tell them that it is even better after six months.

Jam delivery and goodbyes all done, we set off fro Alicante at around 13.00 and got to the car park in Alicante at around 14.00. After a brief sojourn into El Corte Inglés and on finding that their restaurant was closed for refurbishment, we went to a familiar venue, El Prego for lunch. I was feeling nauseous and didn’t eat much but Garrath enjoyed his pizza. After that we took a stroll down the promenade and stopped for more tea, water and toilet stops. The weather was gorgeous. In fact we had to move into the shade.

A gentle amble back to the car park was followed by driving to the airport via a route determined by Apple Maps. I took the wrong turning and as luck would have it, it turned out to be be a better route that the Apple Maps one because it allowed us to drive directly to the Victoria Rent A Car depot without having to pass it on the wrong side of the dual carriageway then double back at a later junction. I shall remember that one for a future trip.

Checking in luggage was quick and easy as was security. Waiting at the airport for your flight to be called is always monumentally tedious, but hey, they get you to and from your destination so it has to be tolerated with as much good grace as you can muster. They claim to have free wifi but it is always flaky, so I simply concentrated on writing this blog.

Earwigging provided little in the way of entertainment, just serial, fatuous prattle, which brings me back to and often repeated question, what can’t people say nothing when they have nothing to say? It did stimulate another verse though –

I think I’ve lost the art of conversation,
I think that I’ve forgotten all the rules,
I don’t know how to join in empty prattle,
I simply can’t communicate with fools.

I’d rather not go on about the weather,
The weather’s what it is and that is that,
And going on about it will not change it,
So I shut my mouth and wear a coat and hat.

I hate it when I hear people complaining
Whilst knowing that they’ll never, ever care
To rectify the problem that they’re blethering about,
But moan, creating wearisome hot air.

I haven’t any time for so-called small talk,
Small talk says the person’s mind is small,
I’d rather not engage with such a person,
I really don’t have time for them at all.

I’m glad I’ve lost the art of conversation,
By deliberately flouting all the rules,
I’m glad I won’t join in with empty prattle,
It means that I stay clear of moaning fools.

30.05.2016

Ugh,throughout the flight and I felt absolutely dire! Somebody or something set my gut on fire and I don’t know how to put it out! Pleeeeeeeeeease, can this be over soon? In case you accuse me of pointless moaning, I called into WH Smith at the airport after getting through the baggage check and customs intending to buy some heavyweight Ibuprofen having first checked what kind of starch it contained, but it was shut. Thank goodness my glass half full attitude made me grateful that this didn’t happen while we were on holiday.

AA taxis were there in double quick time and after a small altercation with the exit gate, the charming driver got us home promptly. We now know exactly which speed cameras are live along Leeds road, always useful to kn2016 Spring Trip To Spain – The Final Day

We never sleep well the night before departure and last night was no exception. It wasn’t helped by the fact that my IBS went into overdrive. That stands for Irritable Bowel Syndrome but on days like this I suffer from BFBS – Bloody Furious Bowel Syndrome. I took some ibuprofen to calm down the bowel inflammation and that got me through the morning but didn’t take any with me. In retrospect I didn’t check the ingredients on the packet so if the tablets’ binder was wheat starch, I could well have made myself worse. Needless to say the day has not been easy because of it.

Packing and closing up the house was progressing nicely when the gardeners came in The Company Limo to spray all the aphid infested plants. The Company Limo is an ancient, once-upon-a-time red Toyota 4 x 4 with no back window. They are lovely lads and one is a seriously fit piece of eye candy. The other one wasn’t half bad either, they both had muscles on their spit. Sorry ladies, my camera was all packed away so I didn’t get any photos of them. Next trip perhaps! We gave them a jar of Mermelada Volcanica each and they were delighted.

Sadly The Company Limo would not start and because our drive is on a slope I got serious view of how those muscles worked as they tried to push it up the slope and out on to the road. All was to no avail but made very nice viewing. So they went across the road to our new French neighbour who has a tow bar on his vehicle, fortunately, and he towed them out on to the road so that they could bump start it. Time to pay for some maintenance on The Company Limo Perran.

Once all the packing was done it was time to load the car, load the dehumidifiers, put dust covers over all the furniture then do the rounds of neighbours to say our goodbyes and deliver jam and unused groceries. We got a delightful goodbye e-mail from Ula and Jürgen to wish us well on our journey but in the event we were able to say goodbye personally and deliver the jams and chutneys. We also gave jams and chutneys to the new French neighbour who helped tow The Company Limo out, and he too was delighted. He seems like a lovely chap and that has opened the way to a positive relationship. See, if you want to spread a little happiness, spread a little jam.

Next it was delivering unused groceries to Audrey and having a brief cuppa and chat with her and Keith, after which we said goodbye to Robert and Marijke. Audrey, Keith, Robert and Marijke already had their jams and chutneys. After all the deliveries we are down to 18 jars and a few sample jars from this trip’s production and way down on the chutney made last September. Recipients were grateful that it is ready for eating now. When I give it to them freshly made they have to wait at least three months do for it to mature and I tell them that it is even better after six months.

Jam delivery and goodbyes all done, we set off fro Alicante at around 13.00 and got to the car park in Alicante at around 14.00. After a brief sojourn into El Corte Inglés and on finding that their restaurant was closed for refurbishment, we went to a familiar venue, El Prego for lunch. I was feeling nauseous and didn’t eat much but Garrath enjoyed his pizza. After that we took a stroll down the promenade and stopped for more tea, water and toilet stops. The weather was gorgeous. In fact we had to move into the shade.

A gentle amble back to the car park was followed by driving to the airport via a route determined by Apple Maps. I took the wrong turning and as luck would have it, it turned out to be be a better route that the Apple Maps one because it allowed us to drive directly to the Victoria Rent A Car depot without having to pass it on the wrong side of the dual carriageway then double back at a later junction. I shall remember that one for a future trip.

Checking in luggage was quick and easy as was security. Waiting at the airport for your flight to be called is always monumentally tedious, but hey, they get you to and from your destination so it has to be tolerated with as much good grace as you can muster. They claim to have free wifi but it is always flaky, so I simply concentrated on writing this blog.

Earwigging provided little in the way of entertainment, just serial, fatuous prattle, which brings me back to an often repeated question, what can’t people say nothing when they have nothing to say? It did stimulate another verse though –

I think I’ve lost the art of conversation,
I think that I’ve forgotten all the rules,
I don’t know how to join in empty prattle,
I simply can’t communicate with fools.

I’d rather not go on about the weather,
The weather’s what it is and that is that,
And going on about it will not change it,
So I shut my mouth and wear a coat and hat.

I hate it when I hear people complaining
Whilst knowing that they’ll never, ever care
To rectify the problem that they’re blethering about,
But moan, creating wearisome hot air.

I haven’t any time for so-called small talk,
Small talk says the person’s mind is small,
I’d rather not engage with such a person,
I really don’t have time for them at all.

I’m pleased I’ve lost the art of conversation,
By deliberately flouting all the rules,
I’m glad I won’t join in with empty prattle,
It means that I stay clear of moaning fools.

30.05.2016

Ugh,throughout the flight and I felt absolutely dire! Somebody or something set my gut on fire and I don’t know how to put it out! Pleeeeeeeeeease, can this be over soon? In case you accuse me of pointless moaning, I called into WH Smith at the airport after getting through the baggage check and customs intending to buy some heavyweight Ibuprofen having first checked what kind of starch it contained, but it was shut. Thank goodness my glass half full attitude made me grateful that this didn’t happen while we were on holiday.

AA taxis were there in double quick time and after a small altercation with the exit gate, the charming driver got us home promptly. We now know exactly which speed cameras are live along Leeds road, always useful to know, and I am sitting in bed, drinking very strong lemon & ginger tea in the hope that it helps to settle my gut which is still absolute agony. FIngers crossed. See how dedicated I am to my readers!ow, and I am sitting in bed, drinking very strong lemon & ginger tea in the hope that it helps to settle my gut which is still absolute agony. FIngers crossed. See how dedicated I am to my readers!

2016 Spring Trip To Spain – Day 16

Today is our last full day in Spain so I expected Garrath to be on a bit of a downer, and indeed he was. I am a stoic, I accept the inevitable and I am determinedly positive, but Garrath is not. He is definitely of the glass half empty faction whereas I see an empty glass and declare,

“Wheeee, we have the potential for champagne.”

An easy going start to the day was followed by a slow meander down to The Chicken Shack for tea and free wifi before we repaired to La Viña De Calpé for a posh lunch. The young man who serves there had told me on a previous visit that he loves chillies so we took him half a dozen sample jars of chilli jam and hot chutney. He and the owner we’re delighted at the gesture. So you see, if you want to spread a little happiness, spread a little jam!

Lunch was delicious and very upmarket as usual with four starters, a main course, dessert, and for a change for me, a glass of wine. Starters (all very small) were beetroot gazpacho with Serrano ham, chicken strips with a sauce, prawns with sausage and chick peas then eel with curry sauce. We had a meat and vegetable paella for the main course and it was a delightful twist on traditional paella with added, luxury delights like artichokes which we love. Dessert was a wickedly indulgent chocolate mousse with ginger and orange adapted for me by substituting the biscuit crumbs with truffles. I think I got the best of the deal so I gave one of my truffles to Garrath.

After tea and coffee and saying our goodbyes it seemed like a good idea to take a long last walk along Playa De La Fossa. This we did in blazing sunshine and a brisk breeze. I had brought my camera trundly with me so I managed to get some beach and Peñon shots, and even though the beach was sparsely populated, I managed to get a few for a post dedicated to Lifesnapper.

We stopped for teas and wees at the end of the playa then made our way back just in time for beer and wine o’clock at The Chicken Shack. We were looking for a relaxed last evening, but then the ‘entertainment’ started up. They are English, they claim to be singers, but unfortunately they seem to regard notes as movable feasts and their idea of dynamic is spelled die-namic. Part way through their ‘act’ the male note drifter said,

“I think we ought to speed things up and cheer things up a bit” whereupon Garrath said to me,

“Them going home right now would help!” I think we are in for a continuation of their off note renditions of terminally tedious numbers, mainly 60’s and 70’s numbers that reminded us just how much rubbish made the hit parade in those days. Maybe the it performance will make Garrath feel better about going back to the UK tomorrow?

They are taking a 15 minute break now and guess what, they have prolonged the torture by putting one of their own CD’s. At least it is marginally better than their live performance but pleeeeeeeease, give us a break! As I suspected, their egos are much bigger than their talents.

The last day here is always hard, particularly for Garrath. He had hoped to be retired and living here by now but his cancers have taken that future away. I never thought that possible for reasons that some of you will know already so it is less of a disappointment for me. We both love the place and it would have been lovely if that had been possible, but the situation is what it is and we have to make the best of it.

In the circumstances we are very fortunate to live so close to the Bexley Wing of St James’ hospital in Leeds, the biggest oncology institute in Europe. Without the excellent treatment he has received there, he would not be alive now to regret not being able to live here.

Oh jeez the caterwauling nostalgics are back again! In view of the fact that Garrath has told me that sticking my fingers in my ears is very rude, I think a very large brandy is necessary to help me survive! Garrath has just come out with another gem,

“This set makes The Isle Of Wight seem bang up to date!” (Remember, I pointed out in a previous blog that going to The Isla Of Wight was like stepping back in time.) He also warned me that the ‘artistes ‘ are wandering round with radio mikes and said,

“If they come over here, do not make eye contact, do not engage!” Them wandering round and demanding that people join in with the chorus of ‘Delilah’ confirmed the wisdom of this instruction.

Tomorrow will be busy, packing, closing up the house, saying goodbyes them off to Alicante to spend some time in that delightful city before our flight departs at 20:20. I love Alicante, such an elegant city and the late flight allows us to spend some time there. The fact that my camera kit is in hand luggage will allow me to get some photographs too. I will probably write my blog on the plane and post it after we land, so it will be a late one Carol!

THE END – well almost!

This is a post that I intended to start, finish and post much earlier, after our trip to Pedregeur in fact, but the Sofa Siesta cushion grabbed me, pinned me to the cushion and insisted that I leave the world of consciousness for a full hour, after which we had to repair to Keith and Audrey’s for an evening of drink and chat, and delivering condiments of course. After an evening of Audrey’s generosity with gin and meanness with tonic, I was in no fit state to complete it when we returned home. So sorry Carol, it is a retrospective blog today, written the morning after.

Back to the start of the day, the usual routine of me getting up a couple of hours earlier than Garrath was followed by him joining me, drinking tea then getting into the routine of bathing, dressing and preparing to go out to lunch, just Garrath and I, to the restaurant in Pedregeur.

This time the drive there was much better with no overloaded wagons blocking the road at a snail’s pace, no grandad drivers dithering in front of me (grandad drivers can be any age and either sex) and no hold ups so we got to Pedregeur early. In fact I was probably abuelo (grandfather in Spanish) to the local drivers who overtook me at high speed because I had the effrontery to stick to the speed limits. Machismo is alive and well and living behind the steering wheel in Spain!

When we arrived at the restaurant we were greeted warmly by the delightful lady server and shown to our reserved table. There was no need to show her my card, she remembered my dietary needs and we settled down to another excellent lunch. It started with a lovely salad, then came the most amazing platter of starters – tortilla de patatas, broad beans with sausage and fried quails eggs, pork stew and prawn skewers. Other diners got small, savoury vol au vents rather than the prawn skewers, so the dish was adapted for me. The broad bean dish and the pork stew each came in a mini paella pan and the rest on one of those trendy, long, rectangular plates. Everything was absolutely delicious.

I could make a main course of the broad bean dish alone and probably will when we get back home IF I can find a source of broad beans. They seem to be as easy to find as rocking horse droppings in the UK. Maybe, like our fish catch, we sell the whole crop to Spain.

In the absence of broad beans as a main course I chose the chicken with rice and Garrath chose the Cordon Bleu – a dish of meat (pork in this case) wrapped around ham and cheese, then breaded and pan-fried or deep-fried. Restaurants give him the opportunity for a gluten fest, something he never gets at home.

The chicken was delicious and the charming lady server explained with pride that the chicken was cooked with Coca Cola. That is another one that I will be replicating when I get back to the UK. Garrath ate every crumb off his plate including the peas cooked with bacon, so I am guessing that his too was delicious.

The chef at La Trador takes great pride in his work as does the naturally charming lady who greeted us. Her objective is to engage, to accommodate, to serve and to please her customers. We are so accustomed to the English styles of service, service with a snarl, ingratiating service or bolted on, corporate, customer care, that being served by attentive, charming staff who have a genuine desire to please comes as a shock.

OK, who has Irish relatives and who snitched the name and location of La Trador to them? Come on, own up! It must have been one of you! No matter, they sat on the table next to us made good earwigging material and I had a good enough view of the control-freak matriarch and her henpecked partner to illustrate them later. The two young women, one of them a loud, exhibitionist vegetarian, were just a mass of hair and noise from where I was seated. I was tempted to lean over and say,

“OK madam so you’re a vegetarian, but really, does the whole restaurant have to know about it, and if we do what do you expect of us? A round of applause?” However I restrained myself because if that was the only way she could wrest attention away from the control freak matriarch, fair enough.

Even though the multiple starters and main courses were substantial we ordered desserts working on what we refer to as ‘The trickle down theory.’ That is that desserts somehow manage to trickle down the gaps. I chose Fresas con Nata – strawberries with cream – while Garrath had the real, trickle down dessert, Helado Chocolate (pronounced chock oh lah tay) – Chocolate Ice Cream. After that we finished the repast with green tea for me and coffee for Garrath, paid the princely sum €20 and left.

While we were in the restaurant it rained, quite heavily too but not for long. I was relieved though that our reputation as rainmakers remains untarnished!

Garrath had consulted Apple maps and promised a new, interesting way home but in the event it was just one we knew already with a minor, uninteresting shortcut, so no photographs from yesterday. No matter, I am going to lug my camera kit with me to La Viña De Calpé today then take a troll down the promenade along Playa De La Fossa in order to collect material for a post dedicated to Lifesnapper! The two Carols, Colleen, Annette, Andrew and Kate will understand this.

When we got back from the restaurant all my good intentions were ruined by the Sofa Siesta cushion who grabbed me and had me dead to the world for an hour, after which it was time to gather the stuff necessary to visit Keith and Audrey, multiple jars of jams and chutneys, a bottle of gin and some cans of tonic.

The evening with them was, as ever, pleasant, filled with lively and interesting conversation and multiple gin and tonics, so the end of the evening was a wee bit fuzzy! When we came home I made futile attempt to write my blog but quickly realised that drinking gin and typing coherent sentences is an impossible combination so I retired to bed.

All in all another wonderful day filled with good food, good gin and good friendship.

Yet another interesting day that started with me rising early and Garrath joining me a couple of hours later. He has always needed more sleep than me but now, with his anti seizure meds, he is knackered much of the time. Still, as I keep reminding him, it beats the hell out of being dead and as he keeps reminding everybody, he is still walking, talking and chewing gum – except for the fact that he doesn’t chew gum but hey, one should never let the facts get in the way of a good cliché!

I have almost forgiven him for posting the name and location of the restaurant we went to yesterday, but I reserve the right to berate him when we find it full of English expats. I think we will be safe when we go there tomorrow, but word travels like wildfire in the expat communities here, so we might not be safe in a week or so.

Once Garrath got up we went through the usual, lengthy breakfasting, ablutions, dressing and preparing routine ready for going out with our Dutch friends, Robert & Marijke to Moraira for lunch. We set off early so that I could call in to one of my favourite, glittery things shop, Onix Art, just near the restaurant. Needless to say I added to my collection with a very heavy, pure silver chain with huge links, the like of which would be impossible to purchase in the UK. It was expensive, but hey, there are no pockets in shrouds and if I am poverty stricken in my dotage I will be able to sell glittery stuff to sustain myself. I bought some silver earrings too. Garrath reckons that when I visit Moraira I sustain that shop’s accounts for a week. So be it. Being a socially and economically aware person, I feel a responsibility to support the local economy!!!

This time the restaurant venue was another favourite, Meson El Refugio. We are now known there to such a degree that we got the Spanish two kiss greeting on departure. Lunch was a lovely, relaxed affair and conversation was easy as always. All in all a lovely experience.

You will not be at all surprised when I tell you that the road to Moraira is yet another hairpin special with cliff side drops to the sea on one side and tall, retaining walls on the other in many sections. So many accidents have happened there because of drivers cutting corners and crossing the white line on bends that a lot of concrete barriers have been put in place along the centre of the road with pillars at the road edges. Sadly, on the bends without concrete barriers, lots of drivers still cross the white line so driving there is a road edge hugging, scary experience. Fortunately for us all, I made it both ways without incident. Today was one more reason to christen this holiday The Hairpin Holiday.

After driving back we went into the house to collect jams and chutneys for Robert and Marijke, then joined them at their house for tea, chat, and for Garrath to continue his new love affair with their new dog, Tikus 2. Tikus seems a singularly appropriate name since I found ticks on her when we were last at their house. Since then she has been groomed and treated so should be safe from the evil little bastards for a month! She is a delightful little dog and she absolutely adores Garrath.

On the way back from their house we stopped to share some important legal information with our Spanish/Canadian neighbours. We have known Marie and Pascual for many years and always got along with them well. Sadly Pascual, who is 87 now, is suffering serious dementia. Marie told us the other day that he is much better now that he is on new medication, much calmer and less violent, and he was certainly affable enough this evening, though obviously not with the level of awareness that he once had.

I feel for Marie and for anyone else in her situation having to deal with this. It is so sad when the mind goes but the body remains, for everybody concerned, not least for the sufferer. I do hope that my body packs in before my mind does and my greatest immediate fear is that Garrath’s recurring brain tumours affect his consciousness or lead to violent behaviours. But if they do, we just have to deal with it. Jeez, cheerful stuff. On to more positive things.

We are returning La Tardor in Pedregeur tomorrow for lunch, you know, THE ONE I INTENDED TO KEEP SECRET! We will take the N332 on the way there, an only moderately hairpin route, but we will return via a seriously hairpin, helter-skelter ride through the mountains, a last chance opportunity for wild flower and pretty view shots. The mountain road is a real delight with unexpected, dramatic shots around every bend. Stopping places are few and far between so it a pity that I can no longer be a passenger and take shots on the move because this is a new route to us. What the hell, I have a huge collection of in car shots from other hairpin jaunts so they will have to suffice.

After sharing info with Marie and Pascual we returned to the house to collect our iPads and walked down to The Chicken Shack, for me to write this blog and to avail ourselves of the free wifi so that I can post it and Garrath can chat to whoever he chats to. I hope I am not too late for Carol, but if I am, sincere apologies from Spain to Crete.

I shall hand this over to my editor (Garrath) post it and maybe, just maybe, have a drink to two more. After all, we have to sustain the economy around here too!

Yet another interesting day and one that will, by necessity, contain secrets. More of that later. The day started with me waking and getting up earlier than Garrath , but this time I was much later than usual, 07.00. That is a looooooong lie in for me. After Garrath woke up there followed the usual routine of breakfast, bathing and getting ready.

The bathing and getting ready out here deserves explanation. While it is a relatively rapid procedure in the UK, here it takes much longer. Why, I hear you ask? Well at home it is just bathe and dress with the intervention of a hairdryer every other day. On the frequent NMU days (No Make Up) that’s it, ready to walk the dogs in hardly any time at all. Here we require a different routine altogether. After bathing and drying, plus the every other day hair drying (not for Garrath, there’s not enough hair to merit that) we have to blather ourselves in sunscreen. Garrath’s is factor 50 sticky stuff so after he dons his jockeys, there is a period of at least half an hour to let it dry. I have two lots, the easy peasy spray factor 15 that dries in a breath (I have much more Sun tolerant skin than Garrath) that has nearly run out and the factor 15 super moisturising creme that I bought to replace it. Unfortunately the creme too is monumentally sticky and requires drying time before I put clothes on. If I put them on too soon they get oily marks on them. I need to buy more of the easy peasy spray!

After we have dried out and put our clothes on it is on to the essential next step, applying insect repellant. Visitors to Spain please note, we have bought lots and lots of insect repellants from Farmacias in the past and have still been bitten by the devious little b*stards. But we have found one that works AT LAST. Where did we find this magical potion? At the DIY store where you can buy building and gardening supplies. It makes sense when you think about it, heavyweight work, heavyweight insect repellant.

I don’t have any NMU days here because we always go out, so slapping my phizzer on is always part of the routine as is choosing and putting on jewellery. So that makes it a rather lengthy routine after which we both need a sit down and a cuppa.

This morning we got a call from our last chance hippie gardener, Perran, and he arranged to come over to discuss future plans for the garden. I had asked him to do so because we have several old citrus trees that are producing no fruit so I want them removing. Also the Nispero (Loquat) tree has become very large and unproductive, so I want it cutting back severely.

We have two Hibiscus bushes in the front garden, one of which is thriving, the other doing very poorly in spite of them both receiving the same treatment. On examination Perran said that it was just a case of one of them being old and worn out, so out it has to go. Two of the fancy Hibiscus we bought and had planted have died so we discussed what should replace them and the old Hibiscus. To my delight he suggested Lantana. We have one that is thriving in a variety that produces lilac and lemon flowers in the bed beside the drive. Perran loves that variety but I like the more robust, red and yellow variety so we agreed that this is the variety that will replace the Hibiscus. I love it and have nicknamed it The Spanish Flag plant.

We agreed that the space created by removing the old, unproductive Citrus should be filled with a Grapefruit and in a rather barren part of the garden an Almond should be planted. (Almonds are tough buggers apparently.) The oldest of our existing Olive trees has been pruned into a weeping Pom Pom tree (unique in the area I am assured.) It looks wonderful and has opened up that part of the garden making it lighter and brighter. The Bay tree that was running rampant has been pruned into an enchanting wineglass shape so when the youngest of the Olive trees was discussed we agreed that it would be pruned into another wineglass.

The automatic watering system needs repairing and upgrading so much investment of time and money will be required. Since I have determined that, in spite of the difficulties, I do want to move to Spain, I love the house and its location, it will all be worth it eventually.

Gardener visit over, we prepared to go the restaurant that we had booked for lunch and set off in plenty of time. It was quite a long drive and a rather boring one since we determined to go there via the non scenic route and return via the scenic route. We arrived at the town, parked and walked to the restaurant where we had one of the best eating experiences of our stay.

We were the only English people in there, the rest were all Spanish. The service was good and the food was excellent. The lady who served us was a delight, she fully understood my needs, offered rice instead of pasta with the main courses which made a pleasant change because many places just take away gluten bearing food and offer no substitute. We had a lovely salad to share first, then a lovely Entremesas platter (charcuterie and cheese) as a starter. It was a really nice, thoughtful touch that they substituted the little glass of cream Gazpacho on Garrath’s platter with bacon wrapped round pineapple and grilled for me.

For main courses Garrath had chicken with a sauce and tagliatelle and I had fish with a sauce and perfectly cooked rice turned out from a star shaped mould. Unbelievably I actually had a choice for dessert, either strawberries with cream or ice cream. I chose lemon ice cream, Garrath had a three chocolate cheesecake. We finished with tea and coffee. It was all superb and I was really surprised at how cheap it was nineteen euros thirty cents in total.

The restaurant’s name and location must remain a closely guarded secret for fear of our English friends finding out about it and it being stuffed with English expats next time we go. We have learned our lesson from taking our English friends to the restaurant in Parcent. With this one our lips are sealed. We have booked a table for another day of our stay but I dare not say which day in case our English friends read this and follow us!

I drove back via the scenic route and stopped on a number of occasions to get my camera out and take a few shots. All in all it was a delightful trip.

When we got back to the house I intended to make a start on this blog but I only managed the title before the Sofa Siesta took over. I woke just before Campari o’clock for me, beer o’clock for Garrath, and we meandered down to The Chicken Shack, primarily for the free wifi so that I don’t disappoint Carol this evening. We have had to have a few drinks here of course. After all, it would be rude not to!

YAY, I am feeling very pleased with myself – 21 large jars plus 12 sample jars (the size you get in hotels) of Mermelada Volcanica produced and bottled before 10 a.m. What is more, 13 of those jars are half litre jars, much bigger than my usual 12 sided jars. I had been up since 04.05 of course but I didn’t start the jam making until after 06.00 for fear of waking Garrath with the noise. The waiting time was pleasantly filled with a Facebook Messenger chat with Annette in Costa Rica.

The jam is a lovely colour, has achieved a good set and it tastes deeeeeelicious. Unfortunately, because we are flying, I won’t be able to take any back to the UK with me which is a shame because it is magic with cheese and charcuterie and a very useful cooking ingredient. All that was left to do was for Garrath to produce the labels and this he dutifully did later in the day.

I am never sure just how hot each batch will be because it is entirely dependent on what variety of chillies the gardener grows for me. One year he grew some tiny ones and the batch was so hot that I had to calm it down with loads of sweet peppers. Even then it was rocket fuel. The year after a slightly milder variety of chilli was grown so the jam was milder. That year Keith commented, with obvious regret, that it wasn’t as hot as the previous year’s batch.

That is a total of 39 large jars plus 12 sample jars this time. It is not my largest production here by a long way, but it is not bad and I am pleased. No doubt the neighbours and the gardeners will be pleased too when I uphold the tradition of giving them some jars on the understanding that they return the jars when empty. That is why we are often greeted by neighbours bearing empty jars and expectant faces when we arrive.

Each recipient has their favourite. Marie and Pascual like jams. Robert & Marijke adore Kumquat chutney. Keith likes Mermelada Volcanica as do the gardeners. Audrey prefers jams. Julian and his Peruvian wife like Mermelada Volcanica, the hotter the better. Distribution will probably be done on Sunday, the day before we fly back.

Jam production was followed by ablutions, breakfast and preparing to go out to lunch with our German friends, Ula and Jürgen. Jürgen is a cancer patient too and equally determined not to be defined or confined by the disease. The relationship with Ula goes back a long long way with me. My parents were friends with her parents and many years ago I was friends with her brother Hans and his wife Elvira. Hans no longer comes to Spain. He has heart problems, Elvira won’t drive or fly and the 2000 mile drive is too much for him now. It is a shame because he is wonderful company.

We had a splendid, relaxed lunch with Ula and Jürgen at Las Barcas at Calpé port. It could have been spoiled by some noisy Spanish school children parking themselves on the beach immediately adjacent to the restaurant, had it not been for the owner of the restaurant telling the teacher to quiet them down and us moving to the table furthest from them. That made conversation audible and as always, easy. The Paella was lovely and the kitchen took the trouble to make a special one just for me. All was consumed with abandoned gusto because this time I took the precaution of wearing a black outfit that doesn’t show splashes.

After lunch we had a series of sofa siestas, Garrath with his head nodding, me with my feet up. We understand the Spanish siesta now. They give the body permission to devote 100% of available energy to digesting huge lunches!

We returned to a semblance of consciousness at around 17.45, just in time to get down to The Chicken Shack for wine and beer o’clock. That is where we are now, drinking, relaxing, people watching and earwigging. To Garrath’s right and my left an English couple are adding irrefutable evidence to support Eleanor Roosevelt’s statement,

“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”

Needless to say the couple in question are not discussing either issues or events. I am trying to think of a way of capturing a sneaky candid shot of them, or maybe I’ll do a sketch. She is easy, a sphere with a disapproving expression wearing a festoon blind. He is not so easy. Maybe a foggy grey blob will suffice. It is a good thing that I don’t have to portray minds in my sketches. Procreate doesn’t have a pen tip that is small enough!

Garrath said I could write a comedy about the man alone. His level of conversation and banal, embarrassing posturing made watching paint dry an exciting alternative. It never ceases to amaze me that people with minds as small as theirs manage to dress in the morning!

Oh dear, they have gone now. My next objects of research for sketches and verses will probably be the enormous French foursome who keep asking people to take photos of them while they are shovelling spaghetti, pizza and bread down their necks. Jeez, I hope that camera has a very, very wide angle lens!

Yaaaaaaaaaawn, what a busy day, it is 21.50 now, my feet are aching and I am only just starting my blog. Sorry Carol!

We were both up pretty early, Garrath was up by 07.15 because today was the day for freezer diving and jam making. I wanted to make chilli jam so we retrieved the chillies from the freezer plus the lemons necessary for sourness and pectin. It is best to take the green tops off chillies while they are still frozen (many years of experience here) so I set about that task immediately. The fact that I had sliced my thumb open the other day made the wearing of rubber gloves a necessity.

When I weighed the chillies I realised that I didn’t have enough for a big batch of jam and would need to acquire more somehow. I remembered that I had purchased some really good dried, whole chillies at the Cooperativa next to one of our favourite restaurants, El Riu, in the mountains.

Garrath was having another really bad, flat battery day so I proposed that we leave the lemons (4.7 kilos in total) to thaw in their own time, I would drive us to the Cooperativa to buy chillies and we would lunch at the restaurant. That got a very positive reaction from Garrath so we prepared accordingly. The prospect of Tarta De Nueces (Walnut Tart) enlivened Garrath so much that I am thinking of asking them to ship it to the UK to keep his spirits up.

The drive to El Riu is another hairpin bend ride, not quite so challenging as yesterday’s mountain run, but interesting nonetheless. I think I shall label this holiday (well holiday in part) The Hairpin Trip.

I purchased the necessary jars of chillies from the Cooperativa before we had lunch for fear of them selling out. Like everything sold there, they are extremely high quality.

Lunch was, as ever, a real delight. And for me a really messy delight. More of that later. We had the usual appetisers, aioli and a salsa with bread for Garrath and boiled potatoes for me, then Garrath chose Croquetas (a gluten fest) for starters while I had Embutidos (mountain sausages). We also ordered a salad to share. Garrath had Presa de Cerdo Iberico while I had Conejo Con Tomate (Rabbit in tomato and garlic sauce.) For dessert Garrath had his beloved Tarta De Nueces while I had Lemon Sorbet.

Back to the messy delight thing. I know me. I always and up wearing a significant portion of my food so this time I put the napkin across my chest and tucked the ends under my bra straps. That was a very good idea because once I had dressed the salad with oil and orange vinegar, and started on the oily, squirty sausages, nobody within three feet of me was safe from a clothes spoiling spraying. The Conejo Con Tomate was even more messy. Honestly, the only way to eat rabbit is with your fingers, and with the delicious, oil rich, garlicky, blood coloured tomato sauce, by the end of the main course I looked like a particularly greedy but clumsy vampire. Thank goodness for the precaution of the chest covering napkin!

We drove back from the restaurant and called into the Altea garden centre in search of a magical fertiliser that Marijke alerted us to some years ago but the local garden centre no longer sells. A charming man with that delicious, gravelly Spanish voice helped us and we got what we wanted.

After that it was a stop at the Chinese supermarket for jam jars and lids. They had just 24 of the size I wanted on the shelf so we bought all 24. Mrs Grumpy on the checkout (I have never ever seen her smile) organised a box for us and we proceeded on to Mercadona for sugar for the jam and other essentials like the whisky cream liqueur that we refer to as ‘pudding’ and the disposable rubber gloves to protect my recently sliced thumb.

When we got back to the house I set about doing the incredibly time consuming and laborious task of de-pipping and slicing the thawed lemons, rehydrating and chopping the dried chillies. That would have been agony without the rubber gloves. Thank you Mercadona for saving me pain.

Once the lemons and rehydrated chillies were done I pressure cooked them until they were very soft, then whizzed them with the stick blender. (Releasing the pressure on the pressure cooker perfumed the house deliciously.) I then softened the fresh chillies by steaming them in the microwave, whizzed them, added then to the lemon and rehydrated chilli mix and whizzed again. Then I added 5 kilos of sugar and stirred until it was dissolved, covered the mix in preparation for tomorrow’s boiling and bottling.

After doing the washing up I was then free to sit down, enjoy resting my weary feet and writing my blog – oh yes, and of course a whisky cream liqueur or two (sooooooo good for sore feet!)

My word, what a Helter-Skelter ride of a day, and that was just the roads I drove on! After the usual slow start, ablutions, breakfast and slapping my phizzer on (putting on my make-up) we set off early to go to The Cooperativa Agricoles El Progrés in Parcent for lunch. It is one of our favourite places, a sort of local agricultural workers club, social centre and restaurant. They do a great menu del dia (menu of the day) for 9 euros, they know me and cater for me very well.

The reason for the early start – this was to be a photography day with frequent stops for such delights as ruins, wild flowers, town and mountain views. I had determined to capture a particular, Lupin like flower but every time I saw some on the way to Parcent there was nowhere to park and I don’t do the typically Spanish thing of just pulling up, putting the hazard warning lights on and sod the consequences.

We got to Parcent nice and early and Garrath suggested a wander around the town before lunch. That was very rewarding because in the ten years we have been going there we have seen nothing of the town. We found (and photographed of course) some lovely streets and squares, some Swallows’ nests and delighted in the fact that everyone we saw greeted us. Simple greetings like hello (Hola) how are you (Como esta) and it’s a lovely day (El tiempo es muy bien) make a stroll around a strange town such a welcoming pleasure. In England people only greet people whom they know. In Spain they greet anyone because it a pleasant and polite thing to do.

We got to The Cooperativa at around 13.30 only to find that our chosen main course menu items had already run out. Sadly, this could be our fault. We discovered the Cooperativa about ten years ago and at that time it’s clientele was exclusively Spanish – apart from us that is. Regrettably, in retrospect, we took our friends Keith and Audrey there, Keith and Audrey told all their friends about it and now the place is extremely popular with English expats. The English eat much earlier than the Spanish so the bloody English had already eaten Garrath’s pigs cheeks and my sausages!!!

I have learned from previous visits to The Cooperativa to listen to the recommendations of the large lady who always greets us. She is lovely and she understands my dietary requirements very well. She recommended the fish so I had the fish and it was deeeeeeelicious. I think it was a kind of Mackerel, but whatever the species, it was very well cooked and extremely tasty. I even got a pudding, the ubiquitous Spanish Flan (creme caramel) and very nice it was too.

After lunch Garrath was determined that we try a new mountain route in the hope of me getting the photographs I wanted. We followed said route and joy of joys, not only did I find stopping places, I also found the Lupin type flowers I wanted to capture plus species I didn’t even know existed before. I also found some of my favourite photographic subjects – ruins.

The mountain ride was hair raising, with scarily narrow roads, hairpin bends, precipitous drops and absolutely stunning views that made the Helter-Skelter drive 200% worth it. We found sufficient pulling off places for me to take loooooooooads of photos. Only time will tell whether they are good ones, but at least it has broken the photo curse of this trip.

The drive back from the last photo stop continued to be a navigation of hairpin bends, narrow roads and hair raising stops when we met something coming the other way. That was until we got to the main toad near Benissa. After that it was plain sailing. When we got to Calpé we had a quick stop at Mercadonna for essentials, them homeward bound.

During the drive we had a debate about whether to go freezer diving for tomorrow’s jam making session or to go to The Chicken Shack. I contended that we can go freezer diving tomorrow and thaw stuff in warm water so when we got back Garrath put stuff away and declared,

“Right, time for The Chicken Shack.” Well it would be rude not to go, wouldn’t it?

Yay, what a productive day, 18 jars of Mermelada Nirvana produced and bottled before breakfast. See, there are advantages to waking up at daft o’clock. Actually it wasn’t that daft for me because I was in bed and dead to the world at 09.45 and didn’t get up until 05.00 and that is a very long sleep for me.

Anyway, I didn’t want to lose the freshness of the fruit so I sieved that out, boiled the syrup down, added the fruit, sterilised the jars and lids, achieved a perfect setting point and bottled the jam. I haven’t yet lined up my jammy soldiers for a photograph, but I will!

Garrath made the labels, one with its name – Mermelada Nirvana – and one with the ingredients. Theoretically these were to be in Spanish and the were, mostly, except for the fact that he spelled strawberries the French way! What the hell, the house is in an international area, we have French neighbours, they will get it!

Inordinately pleased with myself (a.k.a. smug) I then had breakfast, ran the bath then promptly fell asleep on the sofa. It had been my intention to rest my aching feet but I went spark out for a full 45 minutes. That made eight hours sleep in total, unheard of for me. I must have needed it. My feet certainly did.

We bathed in leisurely fashion and eventually got ready to take our Dutch friends, Robert and Marijke, out to La Viña De Calpé for lunch. The table was booked for 14:00 and we arrived precisely on time. Lunch was a delight as usual there, very upmarket, and conversation was easy and entertaining.

Robert was born in Indonesia, spent part of his childhood in a Japanese prisoner of war camp with his mother while his father was a prisoner on the Burma railway. Though Dutch by nationality he has spent only eight years of his life in The Netherlands. The rest was spent travelling the world, first in the Dutch Navy, then all around the world working for a German International company. At one time as the company’s representative in Burma, then a closed country, he was an officer in the Burmese Army because that was the only thing that the Burmese government could think of to do with him to give him credibility and authority. Needless to say he is an endless source of stories and anecdotes.

Marijke is equally fascinating. She emigrated to Spain in 1979 and feels more Spanish than Dutch. This, she explains, is because she was escaping a horrendous marriage, and she was emotionally a mess but the Spanish neighbours and townspeople took her under their wings and as she puts it, rescued her. Wandering round Guadalest with her is fun because it is a constant series of meet, greet and gossip with her many, long standing Spanish friends.

Both Robert and Marijke are multilingual as are many Dutch people. They put we monolingual Brits to shame. But, as Frankie, a German friend, once said to me when I apologised for not speaking much German,

“Why bother? English is an international language. Who speaks German? Us, the Austrians and a few Swiss. Who gives a shit?” I still remember that comment every time I witness a stubborn Kraut in Spain ordering food and drink in loud German! No wonder said Krauts look offended, but I am giggling hysterically at my recollection of Frankie’s comment, not just at their boorish behaviour!

Just to make it clear that I do not discriminate against just boorish Germans, I am equally contemptuous at all nationalities who refuse to learn the very basics of the language of the country they are in, even if it is only for brief holiday visits. Upon taking responsibility for my mother’s wreck of a house we very quickly learned the essential basics and to this day we are fluent in all matters relating to building materials, plumbing equipment, electrical repairs, tree surgery, planning regulations, dealing with solicitors, the local authority, the police, architects, gardeners and the like, and we can order drinks, reserve tables at restaurants, explain problems with hire cars, and conduct a passable conversation about football. As for the Spanish for beach – haven’t a clue!!!

After lunch we went to have a cuppas and more chat at Robert and Marijke’s place and to share time with their new dog. Unfortunately I discovered Ticks on Tikus and had to do holding duty while Robert removed them. YUK, I loathe Ticks. They are one of the few creatures that I can see no useful purpose for whatever. Still, I suppose I proved my worth as a friend by doing this odious duty.

We arranged to go for lunch with Robert and Marijke again on Friday then said our goodbyes and walked down to guess where, the Chicken Shack, so that I could record my burblings in the form of this travel blog c/o their free wifi.

All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable day.

Yet another morning when my plan was thwarted. I was up at 04.55 and shortly thereafter I noticed that there was a spectacular full Moon set in progress, so I got dressed as hastily as I could without disturbing Garrath, got my camera and went out to capture it. Unfortunately Garrath had changed the lock on the gate and failed to inform me which colour coded key opened it and by the time I had gone through all the keys and found the right one, the Moon had gone behind the mountain. Grrrrrrrrr!

When I told Garrath about this he commented,

“Oh yes, I forgot to tell you, it’s the orange one.” Well that was helpful. I’ll hang around for another 28 days and get it next time!

It seems that this is not going to be a good photography trip what with changed locks, low cloud over the mountains and a road with fabulous wild flowers but no parking places. Of course, If I had brought only a compact camera with me instead of the full DSLR kit there would have been squillions of perfect opportunities! Such are the trials of the keen amateur clicker!

Today is a home based day, no multi course, elaborate lunches, just a light, salad lunch and light snacks, because tomorrow we are going to La Viña De Calpé for a really big posh nosh with our Dutch friends, Robert and Marijke. I think if we alternate between light eating in and eating out days I might, just might, fit into my clothes by the end of the trip.

We have done everyday business stuff, a trip to the garden centre to get a replacement gas bottle, a trip to Mercadona for a few small items and a midday stop at The Chicken Shack for free wifi. I am getting utterly pissed off with people making negative, judgemental comments about us being on our iPads though. This time It was an ancient German clown commenting to his mates sitting on the next table to us. So I deliberately embarrassed him by saying, loudly,

“It is amazing how much German I understand,” to Garrath and there followed a conversation between Garrath and I that included several insulting German words. It has a salutary effect. The Kraut Dummkopfs went very quiet and left shortly afterwards.

What is it with people though? Why do they feel free to be rude about what we choose to do. We don’t intrude into their space, we don’t fart loudly and produce disgusting smells, we are quiet, we don’t shout or make idiots of ourselves, we don’t interrupt their banal conversations with critical remarks, so why do they feel free to do so?

I suggested that they are technologically ignorant, Garrath countered by saying that they are technologically frightened. Whoever is right – and we might both be right – they are pig ignorant. My apologies for that last remark. It was very unkind to pigs. Pigs have much better manners.

While we were in The Chicken Shack a guy came around selling boxes of strawberries and after a little barter we bought a box. When we got back to the house I started the jam making marathon. This batch will be Strawberry and Seville Orange marmalade.

I hulled and weighed the strawberries, worked out the proportions of Sevilles and sugar needed, got the Sevilles out of the freezer, chopped the strawberries and mixed them with sugar, thawed the Sevilles (easily done in a bowl of warm water) then once that was done, started the really thankless task, de-pipping and shredding the Sevilles. It doesn’t sound too onerous to you I guess, but when I tell you that every Seville Orange has between thirty and forty pips all of which must be removed using the handle of a teaspoon, you might begin to understand. That took a considerable amount of time and patience and trust me, I am not strong on patience.

The Sevilles were cooked in the pressure cooker until very soft, and when we released the pressure valve we discovered the best house deodoriser ever. The smell was divine. I might well pressure cook Sevilles and release the pressure valve just before we next have house guests!

I added the requisite amount of sugar then set the Seville/sugar mix aside until I had heated the strawberries and their syrup until they reached a similar temperature. They were combined and boiled for ten minutes, Every time I leave this place I forget – then every time I do a jam or chutney making session I remember – these floors make my feet hurt like hell, so after the ten minute boil the mix was covered so that I can rest my feet, have a beer and resume the marathon tomorrow.

Tonight is our first staying in night. The reason is simple. Tonight is the Spain v Portugal football match and The Chicken Shack will be a Bear pit. Oops, I am guilty of speciesism again. Sorry Bears, you are much more civilised so let me correct that statement! Tonight The Chicken Shack will be a showcase for the loudest and worst kind of human tribalism! Frankly we can do without that so we are now settled in for an at home night of blog writing and expensive WiFi.

A day without plans turned out to be a day with plans that were thwarted. During the fairly relaxed start to the day we determined to go up into the mountains in search of photographic subjects because the wild flowers are in short supply in drought blighted Calpé. So, having decided that, and after I discovered that we had run out of honey in which to macerate the strawberries I picked from the garden, we decided to book lunch at El Riu because it is next to the Cooperativa that sells local honey. From there we planned to go up to Guadalest where I could capture both wild flowers and mountain views.

The drive to El Riu is always interesting because our route there involves scary, hairpin bends and some narrow parts of the road. It was made even more interesting because we got stuck behind a lorry that was going slooooooooooowly on a part of the road where it was impossible to overtake, but bless the driver, at the first possible opportunity he pulled over so that the queue of cars behind him could get past. After that it was pretty plain sailing, or swerving.

We got to the restaurant ten minutes early in spite of Garrath’s prediction that we were bound to be late. N.B. Garrath’s definition of ‘late’ is arriving on the same day as the appointment instead of his preferred time, the day before! We settled into the table, were greeted by the lady who has served us hundreds of times before and who remembers my dietary needs without having to be prompted.

Appetisers are always Aioli and salsa with bread for Garrath and boiled potatoes for me, and they succeeded in making us both very hungry. Garrath had Croquetas De Carne for his starter (Meat croquettes) while I had a special salad.

For the main course I had Conejo Al Ajillo (Rabbit with garlic) and Garrath had Secreto De Cerdo Iberico A La Brasa ( a Spanish cut of Iberico pork from the Pata Negra pig cooked over the wood fire.) To my delight I am always able to eat the Patatas Fritas (chips) there because they are home made and uncontaminated.

Desserts are as ever very limited for me, lemon ice cream or coconut ice cream but Garrath had his absolute favourite, Tarta De Nueces (Walnut tart). I confess to being seriously jealous at his freedom to eat this because it looks delectable and coconut ice cream is a very poor substitute.

The repast finished with green tea for me, cafe Americano for Garrath then a double helping of Moscatel for Garrath because I was driving.

At the end of the meal we were debating where to go next so we resorted to our phones to find maps to see if my desired destination, Tarbena, was easily accessible from there. that was when something quite shocking happened. An elderly English female expat who was leaving the restaurant leaned over our table and declared imperiously,

“You two have got a problem!” Sadly the arrogant bitch scooted off before I had the chance to retort, “Yes, we have a problem with judgemental, arrogant English busybodies,” but I confess to being shocked at the old bat. How dare she? I don’t know her, don’t want to know her, but would never, ever presume to interfere and shove my face into her space with a judgement like that. Can you see now why we don’t like the English expat community?

Tarbena proved to be too far via a too convoluted route so we went up to Guadalest. This is where the thwarted plans came in. Though it had been cloudy ever since we started climbing we had seen view of Guadalest through the clouds in sunshine and hoped that this would continue. Unfortunately when we got there, there was low, low cloud, wind and it was chilly too, so not a single photograph was taken.

The trip was not wasted though. I managed to find a beautiful, really high quality, all leather, back pack handbag in one of the shops there. A quick tea and wee stop at a local cafe enabled me to transfer the contents of the clapped out old handbag into the new one, then we found a waste bin to dispose of the old bag and I was off with new style and panache.

After Guadalest I drove back via the lengthier but easier new road that was built to accommodate the tourist buses from Benidorm (the route that has lots and lots of photogenic wild flowers but no stopping places) and came back to Calpé where it had been sunny ALL DAY! We did a few shopping stops for mundane stuff, then got back to the house, unloaded then repaired to guess where – The Chicken Shack. Here we met with the gardener and paid him, had a few drinks and I wrote this.

Thwarted plans, who cares? There will be another day for a mountain run and photographs. In the mean time I have a very stylish new handbag and a full stomach.

More business to do today so a relatively early start was needed. I say relatively because I was up at 06.55 but Garrath didn’t get up until 08.30. No matter, we got on with things well enough and got into town to pay Monasor for the electrical work. The final bill was three hundred and seventy euros but what astonished us was the part of the bill that was for the call out and emergency repair was only seventy six euros. Needless to say paying the bill took ages, so I entertained myself by looking at their kitchen and bathroom fittings and the huge range of ceramic tiles available. Such are the things that dreams are made of!

After Monasor we went to Kuxtabank to close all our accounts there. Much as we loved the care taken by the staff in Calpé, all the communications to us in the UK are in Spanish and now that we have given up hope of moving to Spain that made the management of the accounts too difficult. The delightful Luis was very understanding and made it into a very pleasant experience. Luis’s parting comment was to wish us well, hope that the health issues clear up and that we will be able to move there in a few years.

We walked down to Sabadell and deposited we cash we got back from our accounts at Kuxtabank into the account we use for business there. Amazingly there was no queue. Either they have got their act together and employed more staff or so many people have abandoned them that the two hour queues are a thing of the past. Whatever, depositing the money was quick, pleasant and painless.

A quick stop at the cosmetics shop for mascara (no, Garrath does NOT use it) then next door to Cafe Dany for tea and viewing my favourite Spanish TV cooking programme. Ironically they were demonstrating Chinese recipes today, which is fine because I have to make my own Chinese style food anyway. Tell a Chinese chef not to use soy sauce, black bean sauce or hoi sin sauce ? I don’t think so.

By the time we had done that lot it was lunch time so we drove to the port and our favourite restaurant there, Las Barcas, for a special salad and paella feast. This time it was Paella Valenciana, the meat one, and though I enjoyed it and Garrath prefers it (for some weird and wonderful reason he doesn’t like seafood) I much prefer Paella Mixta with the seafood. We do a deal when we have that. I eat the shellfish, Garrath eats the meat, so we get the best of both worlds.

We have a ritual when we go to Las Barcas. We play dominoes. One time we really confused the staff by taking a set of Lancashire dominoes – they go up to double nine. One by one all the staff came up to stare in wonder at these strange dominoes. It caused much conversation and consternation. This time, however, we took the ordinary dominoes and played after lunch. My luck was in for a change and I won the majority of the games – most unusual.

At around 17.00 the fishing boats started coming into harbour so I got the camera trundly (Lowepro wheeled camera case) and we went to meet them. While they were unloading their catches I took photos of the fish. Each boat seemed to have a reasonable catch and one in particular had a very good one and I got loads of photos.

Once unloaded the fish go straight into the fish auction. We have paid to go in there on a previous visit and it is fascinating but this time we passed on that in favour of going back to the house, parking the car and walking back down the hill to The Chicken Shack.

All in all a very satisfying day because we have got all of the business, other than paying the gardener, completed in less than a week. It should all be R&R from now on. Whoopee!

Another early start, this time when Garrath woke early, woke me, made some tea then promptly went back to sleep again. I do so envy his ability to do that. Once I am awake I can’t get back to sleep again, so I went into the living room and started catching up with e-mails. When Garrath eventually resurrected it was after 08.15 so time for the normal routine of ablutions and breakfast.

Shortly after that the electrician arrived to fit a brand new junction box. We had guessed that when Abdellah said that it wouldn’t be yesterday, that meant that it would be the day after – that is today.

Monasor are astonishingly prompt. They are also incredibly accurate with their time estimates for jobs. The electrician said that the job would take an hour and indeed it did. When we had the really big work done converting the balcony into a secure room they told us that they would be finished at the end of July. Our experience of other builders both in Spain and the U.K. made us sceptical but sure enough we got a phone call to tell us we had to come out, inspect the work and pay up because the job would be finished on the last day of July. It was too.

House maintenance job over it was time to get ready to go out to lunch with our neighbours Keith & Audrey along with some friends of theirs. We took Audrey as the human satnav, Keith took their friends and we met at the restaurant, La Brisa at Teulada. I am always safe at La Brisa and whenever I show my explanatory card it is dismissed with a quick “Lo Sé” meaning “I know.” I even get gluten free toast there so lunch was no problem at all. It is a set menu with plenty of choice and all very well done. I can never have chips with a meal because they use the same fryers to fry the battered stuff so instead they provided me with a lovely array of grilled vegetables to go with the main course. I even got to have a dessert.

During lunch Garrath got a phone call from the kennels to tell us that Helga was poorly and receiving treatment from the vet. They thought she might have an abscess on her tooth and might need to be sedated for further treatment. We OK’d any further treatment needed but a couple of phone calls later ensured that if this is necessary they will take her to our vets rather than theirs because we know that she responds trickily to anaesthetics and our vets know her history. In a subsequent call to the kennels we found out that she is responding to the antibiotics so fingers crossed that she is OK. Bless the kennels staff, they are assiduous with their care. that is why we use them. A bottle of fizz to say thank you will be in order on the way back.

The drive back from the restaurant was easy enough, and we got to have a short, restful period before trolling down to the chicken shack for post chauffeuring and dog worry trauma therapy. So a short blog today after a relatively uneventful day.

I was up at 04.55 this morning, just before the first indications of dawn, hoping for a sunrise that merited dashing down to the coastal viewpoint but alas, no luck. There were clouds but not terribly sunrise friendly clouds, so I just farted about on my iPad until Garrath woke up at around 08.00.

After that we did all the dreary getting up stuff, had breakfast, repaired to the chicken shack for tea & coffee and to fill in time until it was time to collect the laundry from Lavanderia Ana. Fresh and squeaky clean laundry collected we made our way into town to SUMA, the collection agency for the local authority, to change the bank account from which the property taxes are paid.

Surprisingly it was a very quick and pleasant experience. They have a ticket queueing system and we didn’t have to wait long to be seen. The member of staff had no English (why the hell should he, we are in Spain?) but with Garrath’s ability to speak rudimentary Spanish and my ability to understand the answers, we got through the process in about two minutes flat. Needless to say the transaction had to be completed with their theatrical application of a rubber stamp, always compulsory in Spain. Years ago when I had some redundancy money I should have invested in a Spanish rubber stamp company I would have been a wealthy woman by now!

After that we took a troll down town to find a Sabadell money machine, only to find that both of the ones on Gabriel Miro were not functioning. So another trek to the other branch in town was called for with a short break at Cafe Dany for tea, coffee, water and olives on the way. I am seriously addicted to olives but only when we are close to the Mediterranean. Somehow olives do not work in the grim, grey weather of the U.K. except when I make Tomato soup that is. Tomato soup with olive purée is delicious, whereas I find Heinz tomato soup disgusting.

That brings me to another culinary point, we eat entirely differently here to the way we eat in the UK, even though our eating preferences are far more continental than English when we are there. Here in Spain we enjoy local produce, local cooking methods and an altogether lighter diet. Spanish charcuterie is, to my mind, the finest in the world and there is a rich variety from which to choose.

Chorizo has gone world wide anyway, but here there are so many varieties of chorizo it is almost bewildering. Well it might be bewildering were it not for the fact that I am determined to try every single variety to find out which one I like best. By the time I have tried them all I will have forgotten what the first one tasted like so I will have to start all over again. (You have to admit that as an excuse, that one is a doozy!)

We eat lots of salads here especially in the warmer weather whereas in England it rarely gets warm enough to make salad appealing. We do pass on Spanish soups in restaurants though. Honestly, the average portion of Spanish soup, an incredibly robust and chunky affair that is usually served in a heap, would feed me for a week!

Meats and fish simply grilled on the plancha or cooked over a wood fire is simply delicious, as are slices of vegetable fruits cooked on the plancha. Salads in restaurants are beautifully prepared, very substantial and often served as a starter. Vegetables are normally served as a separate course and in consequence they star rather than taking second place to proteins.

After the short break at Cafe Dany we found the Sabadell bank machine that worked, got the required funds out, returned to the car and drove on to the chicken shack for more coffee, tea, water and free wifi then back to the house for a salad lunch and the ultimate in going native, a siesta!

The siesta almost thwarted my stated intention to go down to Las Salinas on a wildflower and bug hunt, but at 16.30 we went down, camera and macro lens in hand. The wildflower hunt was less than successful with not much of interest around, but the bug hunt was very successful – for the bugs that is. They hunted me, they found me and they bit me, again and again. Thank goodness for Fenergan, the magic cream that subdues the live volcanoes on your skin that mozzies and sand flies leave behind.

A brief rest at home for sore feet recovery then at 18.45 we were off again to guess where – The Chicken Shack. After all 18.45 is well after wine o’clock! I must not drink too much too soon though because Garrath has set me a challenge to do one of my Sun or Moon illustrations using the iPad Pro and Apple Pencil, so cheerio for now and look out for the illustration tomorrow.

Having responsibility for my mother’s house in Spain (all of the costs, none of the ownership) is onerous and expensive , particularly because the house was thrown up by cowboy builders in 1973 using shoddy, inadequate materials. Every year since 2003 we have made improvements starting with removing the tree that had breached the roof, having the roof repaired and having the cracking platform upon which the living accommodation rests supported with pillars. Since then we have completely replaced the sewage system, rendered and clad the powdering brick, had the balcony that burglars used to access the property and steal my stuff turned into a secure room, replaced all the windows, the front and garage door, had the lighting upgraded, the house exterior and walls painted, the interior of the house repainted and completely refurnished and the garden totally remodelled and maintained, including having a patio built and a herb garden created.

In doing this we have had to visit twice yearly to do maintenance and organise repairs Because of the leave time taken to do this we have lost the opportunity of having holidays for the last thirteen years. Make no mistake, it hasn’t all been odious. Yes it has been very sad that we have had to sacrifice going to places that we wanted to go to including giving up our promise to revisit the place where we married (Las Vegas) every five years, but along the way we have made many friends, established an excellent relationship with a cracking firm of builders and an excellent rapport with our lovely, last chance hippie gardener and his workers. We have also come to love the place.

Prior to the last few years’ visits we have said,

“This one will be a holiday,” but no, something has always cropped up. Four years ago it was a whacking five thousand euros bill for a new septic tank. This Christmas, after a freezing lesson in how one open fire is not adequate to heat the property, it was a three thousand five hundred euro bill to install climate control. It is a testament to the quality of building firm, Monasor, that we arrived to find the two climate control units installed and looking like they had been there forever – no evidence of the considerable amount of electrical channelling etc that had to be done.

This time we excelled ourselves. Business day one of the trip and we had to have the builders around with an electrical problem.

Bless them, we cannot fault Monasor. Garrath texted the delightful Abdellah at around 10.00, he came around in less than an hour and the electrician came shortly afterwards. We were anticipating the worst of news but were pleasantly surprised when the problem diagnosed was relatively simple. The master residual earth circuit breaker was very old and malfunctioning, so a quick trip into Calpé got a replacement and we had juice back. Garrath asked for an estimate on a complete replacement distribution box and we had that by the evening and agreed to the price. It will be done within days. Ahem, UK readers, would you get that speed and quality of service in the UK? I think not!

Electrical cut outs and the necessary repairs meant that we had to postpone our plans to go to SUMA the local authority office to change arrangements for the property taxes to be paid so we will have to do that tomorrow because we have an assurance from Abdellah that the electrician cannot come tomorrow. Holiday? What holiday?

Other business stuff we have to do this trip is closing bank accounts and transferring standing orders – all exciting stuff that is designed to make things simpler for me when Garrath dies. It is all about hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

We are trying to make the best of the trip in between business stuff. Garrath had determined that we would lunch out every day but today I told him that I don’t want to feel obliged to stuff down far too many courses of food every day but would prefer to eat light and only lunch out as a treat. That agreed I went down to Mercadona (coeliac paradise, remember) to get light lunch materials while he awaited the return of the electrician.

The shopping was very funny. I dutifully got all my separate salad ingredients, took them to the weigh and label machine, labelled and sealed them and only then discovered that a ready made Insalada De Casa was there, ready prepared for two euros seventy five cents. DOH!

That shopping jaunt over I came back to the house where Garrath was plodding on with the moving standing orders stuff. After lunch and a brief discussion we decided to invite our friends and neighbours, Keith and Audrey, around for drinks and nibbles. So back to Mercadona for me to buy suitable nibbles and bottles of gin while Garrath plodded on with ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst’ stuff.

When I got back I started preparing the nibble fest. I know Keith and Audrey’s tastes very well so it was a blue cheese dip for him, a chickpea and spinach dip for her, guacamole for us all, plus mortadella, cheese, pickles, crisps, maize dippy thingies and pickles.

Keith and Audrey arrived as agreed at 17.00 and a very pleasant evening was had by all. The food and drink all went down very well, but I confess to being impressed at Keith’s capacity for eating pickles. It almost rivals mine, but only almost!

Time for bed said Zebedee!!!

An early (05.30) start for me, less so for Garrath (08.00) but a slooooooooow morning for us both, just pottering really. I got the camera out to capture a cloudy sunrise, but after that it was just catching up with EPZ, doing routine household stuff then preparing to go out to lunch at 14.00.

Getting ready to go out proved to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated. ‘Why’ I hear you ask? Well After humanely evicting two spiders, bathing and dressing, my eyes were very sore and they started streaming big time. The last time I had a reaction like this was when I was in Nevada and Arizona in February 1995 and I turned out to be allergic to the wind pollinated scrub out there. What on earth I am allergic to here I know not but the reaction was dramatic and painful.

Fortunately I had some eye drops which seemed to help, but most effective was shutting the window, so the culprit, whatever it is, is outside. My right eye is much more sore than the left one. It might have something to do with having been punched in the eye by a stretching Helmut on the bed shortly before our trip. Anyway I managed to put a semblance of make up on so I look a little bit like me, not that anyone gives a damn. Women of my age are completely invisible so we are free to look as awful as we please, nobody cares.

Garrath had booked Sunday lunch at our favourite, posh restaurant, La Viña de Calpé, before we flew out. It is where we had Christmas lunch and New Year’s Eve dinner and it is magic. As we walked down there my eyes started to get sore again but fortunately I had taken the precaution of wearing waterproof mascara. Inside the sheltered terrace of the restaurant they settled down again.

The lunch experience did not disappoint. We had four starters (taster menu style) –

Carrot purée with ginger served with dates and peanuts
Quinoa risotto with baby veg
Mushrooms
Prawns pil pil, followed by

Mint sorbet

Garrath’s main – Beef fricasee
My main – Sea bream with tomato concasse

The mains were accompanied by squeaky beans and sweet and sour red cabbage with cinnamon. Wonder of wonders for me, there was even a dessert-

Tiramisu

We ended the feast with coffee for Garrath, green tea for me along with the Moscatel that is traditionally served at the end of a meal here. That lunch is not untypical for a Spanish Sunday lunch out. It helps one to understand the siesta. After a huge meal like that it is tempting to just collapse in a heap and sleep it off.

I would have been happy to do just that but Garrath had stated his intention to walk just a short way along the prom to work off a few calories. Inevitably we did the whole thing, right up to the furthermost cafe where we had coffee and tea before toddling back along the prom via a wee and tea stop. Several bottles of fizzy water over the afternoon do tend to make frequent stops like that necessary.

I was deeply disappointed not to have a camera with me, but Garrath hadn’t stated his intention to walk the prom until after our meal so I didn’t bring the kit with me. EPZ-ers will understand when I say that there were lots of candidates for a photo posting dedicated to Lifesnapper on the beach in bikinis from size 6 to size 30. For those of you of you who are not EPZ-ers, let me explain –

EPZ is the abbreviation for ePHOTOzine, the forum where I post some of my photographs. Lifesnapper is the handle of one of the photographers there. His favourite subjects are young, pretty, preferably scantily clad women. I have often suggested to him that he is missing something by failing to see the appeal of older, rounder women and I have previously posted sets of photos of such more mature, corpulent beauties and dedicated them to him. Today there were lots of suitable candidates plus lovely light but I didn’t have my camera with me. Damn! Later in the stay perhaps.

I had hoped to go out on a bug hunt with my camera today but for most of the day it has been cloudy and windy, not ideal bug hunting conditions at all. Later in the afternoon we had sun and saw a some cardinal beetles and few butterflies but as I have already explained, I left the camera behind. Whilst I disapprove completely with the self appointed, anally retentive Photo Mafia and their ridiculous, made-up ‘Rules’ there are a number of things about photography that I heave learned over the few years that I have been a keen clicker. Here they are –

1 The most magical shots always present themselves when you haven’t got your camera with you.
2 The lens you need is always the one you left at home.
3 That competition winning shot opens up in a very small time window when you have the wrong lens on and the wrong settings selected.
4 Some clown always walks into the middle of your very carefully prepared landscape or architectural shot.
5 Butterflies, flies, ladybirds and the like always fly off a nano second before you press the shutter release.
6 All animal life, including wildlife and pets, has an inbuilt sense of when a photographer is around and a full repertoire of hideous poses to employ at those times.
7 For every brilliant wildlife or pet shot you get with full eye contact you will get at least ten of the subject’s butt.
8 Even on a windless day a stiff breeze will spring up just as you press the shutter release for that flower shot.
9 No matter how many lens cleaning cloths you buy, you won’t be able to find one when your lens is dusty.
10 Even when you are meticulous about preparation, your spare battery will go flat just before you need it.
11 No amount of spare memory cards is ever enough.
12 The computer’s image download programme invariably crashes when the download is 98% complete.
13 No matter how much you love an image and how carefully you have followed ‘The Rules’ as dictated by The Photo Mafia, some fellow photographer will find fault with it.
14 Everybody blames you when your photographs reveal how ugly / fat / mean spirited / drunk the bride / groom / bride’s mother / bride’s father / groom’s mother / groom’s father / bridesmaid / best man / usher / guest is!
15 Portraits should never ever be released to the subject without being heavily edited / airbrushed.
16 Carefully set up shots of famous landmarks will invariably be invaded by some grinning moron who drapes him/herself across it so that their companion can take a picture of them with their Micky Mouse camera.
17 The only way to get pictures of famous places free of Japanese tourists is to be there at 4 a.m. on midsummer’s day.
18 If you dare to enhance your images in Photoshop you will be declared persona non grata by the self selected photography purists who are more interested in the process than in the image.
19 If you drop a lens it is never, ever on to a soft surface.
20 The printer always runs out of ink on Saturday night after the shops close when you are due to deliver your photos early on Monday morning.

No doubt fellow photographers will be able to add many more, but those are mine for now.

We are now (19.49 on the 15th of May) in the local watering hole enjoying our first recreational, alcoholic drinks. Garrath is struggling with visual seizures and with difficulty doing mental arithmetic, something at which he used to excel. It is hard to come to terms with but a combination of ageing and having your brain serially carved up is bound to take its toll. Let’s hope that it isn’t a sign of more aliens growing in his brain, but if it is, we just have to deal with it. In the mean time, R&R at the local bar.

The alarm was set for 03.00, a time when I am often up and about but of course, because I had to get up at that ungodly hour, I could have slept for another six hours. Ah well, such is life!

Garrath was in his usual, relaxed traveller mode – not! Honestly he would have us at the airport the day before the flight if he could get away with it. As it was I ignored his high-anxiety haranguing, posted photos on ePHOTOzine, bathed and got ready in a very relaxed manner and was still ready fifteen minutes before the taxi arrived at 05.00.

The trip to the airport in the cab was good preparation for the flight because the driver was definitely in low flying mode. If you want to know which speed cameras are live and which are dummies, just get in a private hire vehicle. Those drivers know every single one and whenever they change them word goes round the private hire community in minutes. I have been in a cab when a radio message came through warning the drivers of a change.

Low flying mode aside, the driver was skilful and courteous and he got us to the airport in one piece. We were shocked at how busy it was. Several flights going out early morning meant that we had to join a very long queue to check in our suitcase, great material for my illustrated verses.

Getting through security was a game and a half. For whatever reason the guy on the scanner decided that my camera gear was suspicious so the bag had to be emptied, closely examined, rescanned and the bag repacked. Beware fellow EPZ-ers, The Canon 5D mark 2 and accompanying lenses are deeply suspicious. Nikon aficionados may be considered low risk, model citizens but we Canon users are potential terrorists. I think the clue is in the name!

Back to material for my illustrated verses, I have remarked many times before about people’s holiday wear and their behaviour when travelling but goodness me, what are they thinking? Most notable this time were the woman with HUGE feet drawing attention to them by wearing bright iridescent pumps covered in pearlescent sequins and the loudmouth Yummy Mummy who maintained a relentless, squawking dialogue with her daughter, both of whom screamed incredibly loudly with affected excitement when using the hand drier in the Ladies. It was all about attention seeking. I am guessing that the only remarkable thing that Yummy mummy has done in her life is have that daughter and she uses her to take centre stage – LOUDLY! I issued the atheist equivalent of a prayer that she would not be on our flight and thankfully, my prayer was answered. I pity the poor souls living and holidaying at their destination though. They will be irritated by Monday, deaf by Wednesday and homicidal by Thursday.

Earwigging is always a good way to alleviate boredom when in a long queue and I did lots of that. I had to really concentrate though because loudmouth Yummy Mummy was just in front of us. Immediately behind us was a couple who were indulging in England’s favourite pastime – moaning! Being in the long queue prompted them to recall every long queue they had ever been in, every bad airport experience that had ever had. I swear, it moaning were and Olympic sport, we would always win the gold medal. Sadly, because they were strangers I could not intervene with one of my favourite sarcastic quips,

“It is being so cheerful that keeps you going,” so instead I started to formulate words in my head for a new verse about moaners. Here it is –

I really can’t stand whiners,
Whingers drive me nuts
They complain about a matter
But won’t get off their butts
To do something about it
And get the problem sorted,
And if you offer them advice,
It is always thwarted.

They wallow in their misery,
They enjoy bitches and moans,
They share them if you’re near them,
If not they use their phones,
Or text to share their whining,
Or e-mails or a letter,
I really wish they’d occupy
Themselves with something better.

I have started telling whiners
“If you’re not prepared
To do something about it,
Keep your moany tales unaired.
Don’t give me all this ear ache,
Don’t bitch and moan to me,
Because I’m not prepared to listen to
Your negativity.”

I hear much less from whiners,
I think I drive them nuts
When I tell them that it’s time to
Get off their lazy butts,
Do something about it,
And get the problem sorted,
By giving them this sound advice,
Their endless moaning’s thwarted.

Yay!

14.05.2016

For the very first time we were at the front of the queue at the boarding gate and first on the plane. How we managed that I know not but it made finding seats and stowing hand baggage very easy. The waiting on the plane wasn’t too bad and take off was a breeze. Having seen some of the morbidly obese passengers in the queue I was very pleasantly surprised and greatly relieved to be sitting next to a slender, very nice lady. I recall with horror the journey spent next to a twenty stone monster with poor hygiene and the bladder capacity of a toddler. Ugh! Thank goodness we always choose aisle seats.

The flight was, as usual, boooooooooooooring, only punctuated by the trolley dollies serving food and drink then the same trolley dollies selling in flight goods. I refuse to comply with their description ‘Duty Free’ because it isn’t when you travel within the EU. Usually we pass on buying such goods but gadgetry always appeals so a memory addition widget for our iPhones could not be resisted. Neither could a perfume presented in a household cleaner spray style bottle. I don’t care if the perfume is crap, I just love visual wit. Remember, there are no pockets in shrouds!

Sadly there was only one memory addition widget for our iPhones on board so we will have to try and buy another on the journey back. If that isn’t successful, then the good old Internet will come to the rescue. Once a widget has been desired it must be had in our household!

Landing at Alicante followed quite a long time of being stacked over the sea, was a little bumpy on approach due to strong head winds but was fairly uneventful otherwise. Unusually we got a gate that was near baggage handling so no long trek needed. Our suitcase came (eventually) so we trolled off to find the shuttle bus to the Victoria car hire firm. While we were waiting another couple came to wait at the same stand. They were English, very sniffy and obviously considered themselves superior. They arrived at the stand well after we did but when the shuttle bus came they shoved past and loaded their baggage first. When we got to the car hire depot, again they shoved past and got to the desk first as if it was their right to do so. When they had completed their transactions they headed to the car that they had hired – to our amusement it was the smallest, cheapest car that Victoria hire out. I shall always remember them as Lord and Lady Snooty-Cheapskate!

The car hire official was pleased to tell us that we had been upgraded to an Opel Astra at no extra cost. After our experience of the gearbox in the last Opel we hired we expressed our disappointment so bless them, they reverted us to the Peugot 308 that we had asked for. It was exactly the same one as last time and true to form, it had the same, self depressing accelerator pedal, so we got to Calpé in a breath.

Opening up the house was quick and simple, then it was down to Calpé to find lunch at our favourite good value restaurant. As ever I didn’t realise that I was hungry until I started eating (a strange legacy from a strange childhood) but I did and consumed the repast with gusto. For the main course I had beef liver. I don’t like liver in the UK but the way that the Spanish cook it a la plancha makes it tender, succulent and delicious. I can’t have their chips because they fry floured foods in the same fryer so they always do verduras a la plancha for me and the plancha transforms thin slices of courgette and aubergine into something magical. I even got to have a dessert, arroz con leche y canela (rice pudding with cinnamon.) Again I can’t stand rice pudding at home but here they serve it ice cold and it is lovely. (Hot rice pudding, yuk!)

The arroz con leche y canela got me thinking. Who, in dim and distant pre history, thought of taking tree bark and adding it to food? Are we descended from tree nibblers? Come to think of it, who thought that digging up tubers and eating them was a good idea? Whatever possessed somebody to take grass seeds, grind them between stones, add water, leave the mix to ferment then add more ground up grass seeds, maul it around a bit then bake it? I could go on ——- and on ——- and on, but I won’t and you get the idea.

After lunch we went to the most coeliac friendly supermarket on the planet, Mercadona, to get in essential supplies. Essentially these were breakfast foods because Garrath has declared it a no cooking holiday for me so we will lunch out every day. Inevitably there will be jam and chutney making from the over full freezer, but other that that, no cooking. Whoopee do!

Back home to unload, plus a ten minute snooze for me, then you will never guess what we did next and where we are now. We walked down to the local where Garrath is enjoying a beer and I am being abstemiously saintly consuming only tea and water. Panic not readers, this won’t last. I can hear a gin and tonic calling to me!

That day started at around 02.20 for me, a not unusual occurrence that meant I could play pooters (occupy my self on my computer) for a few hours before the 04.45 alarm. Garrath would have us at the airport the day before the flight if I let him get away with it, but as it was he made do with us being at the airport by 07.00 for the 09.00 flight.

The taxi arrived early, the roads were quiet so the journey to the airport was speedy and uneventful, apart from the weather that is. Howling gales and driving rain (more of that later) made us glad that we were heading for warmer climes.

The usual airport routines followed smoothly and for once I didn’t set the alarm off when we were going through security. I won’t wear those huge, hoop earrings to travel again! Essential in flight necessities and emergency supplies were purchased ( a nail file and a neck cushion) the regulation cup of tea was consumed while we waited for the gate to be called, then the agonisingly slow and uncomfortable process involved in getting to and boarding the plane. No air bridge for cheapo peasants such as we. We had to walk through the deluge to the gate and get into the plane via steps.

All appeared to be going relatively well but no progress was made towards the runway. So we waited …………. and waited …………………….. and waited!

During the wait the captain explained that the delay was due to the “inclement weather,” This was the Captain’s genteel euphemism for it pissing down and blowing a hooley! We were also informed that our route had been changed. We were to fly first to Faro in Portugal where we there would be a 45 minute stop for refuelling then we would fly to Arrecife from there. It appears that flying in “Inclement weather” requires more fuel than flying in clement weather (Is there such a word as clement?)

After what seemed like an eternity and a change of take off direction we finally got off the ground at around 10.40. It was undoubtedly the rockiest, lumpiest take off that I have ever experienced, the start of a bumpy ride through the weather front that has caused severe weather warnings, but that is Winter and climate change for you! The chance of being able to enjoy part of the day in Puerto Del Carmen was blown away by the “inclement weather” and the refuelling stop in Faro. Hey ho, with luck we will be leaving the “inclement weather” behind.

I suppose that if I were one of those showy-offy pain in the arse women who tells everybody where they have travelled, usually with a pseudo posh accent delivered in patronising tones whilst looking down their noses, I could say that after our stop at Faro we have been to The Algarve. However, I am not one of those women so I will only say that if I meet one of them, wait for an uncomfortable few seconds of silence then tell them it was an enforced stop at Faro while flying to our cheap package holiday.

Three hours later we were sitting in the plane at Faro airport while the plane was refuelled. Oh deep joy, today we took the scenic route! The weather at Faro looked very promising and since we were on our way further South, it bode well for the holiday, once we got there of course.

The things you do to alleviate boredom. When refreshments came around I ordered a cup of tea and a bottle of water. It was Harrogate water. Typically pretentious, Harrogate (pronounced Herroooooow – geet) water comes in a mock cut glass, plastic bottle. Needless to say I had to photograph it but for some reason I can’t add the photo here.

During the brief refuelling stop at Faro airport we learned that the conditions at Leeds Bradford are now so bad that the return flight today will not be able to land there but will have to land at East Midlands instead. I think that we were very lucky indeed to get away at all.

There will be some very grumpy passengers on the return flight, probably the perpetual moaners who are too stupid and intransigent to accept that this is for their own safety. No doubt they will be coached back to Leeds Bradford. I really pity the staff on that plane and those coaches.

I guarantee that there will be people on the return flight who bitch on about it endlessly. It is a complete waste of time and energy. Nothing can be done about the weather in Leeds Bradford (except in the long term by taking climate change seriously) so what the hell is the point of bitching about it? Rant over for now.

That brings me to yet another reflection on the nature of many British people. I firmly believe that if moaning were an Olympic sport, we would always win gold. Make no mistake, I have no problem with legitimate complaint where someone has had poor service. That is right and proper and in many cases protects future users of the service from maltreatment. What I do have a very real and very big problem with is the pointless, futile whinging that so many Brits indulge in. We weren’t labelled ‘Whinging Poms’ by the Aussies for nothing.

I now have a strict rule about this. I tell people that if they are not prepared to do something about the issue they are moaning about, I am not prepared to listen to them moaning about it. It is a great rule and it protects me from those people who come around, bend your ear about their perceived troubles, demand sympathy, ask your advice which you give freely, then they go away, do bugger all about it then come back and bend your ear about it again. I have no time for that kind of negativity. It is futile and it is draining. I have told people about this rule and some have said,

“But what can you do?” Explain your rule, tell them to stop, if they won’t, walk away from the person, tell them to leave your home, if they are a passenger stop the car and tell them to get out, that’s what you can do! If you are a passenger in their car (always risky with a moaner) earphones come in very handy.I f they are earaching you on the phone, put the phone down. You do not have to listen

The refuelling stop at Faro was refreshingly brief, only about 20 minutes, then we were off on the second leg of our journey. That took about one and a half hours. I’m guessing really. By that time I was brain dead! Baggage collection was relatively painless as was the airport transfer to the hotel. We got to the hotel room at about 17.40, a mere ten hours after setting off, a breeeeeeeeze!

Now we are sitting at the hotel bar, I am drinking my second gin and avoiding eye contact with all the other English tourists. Anglophobic? Us? Too bloody right. We’re on holiday.