Spanish Caravan

I have returned to Andalucia following my recent surgery to discover that spring has sprung and that the smell of orange blossom is all pervading. The snow on the mountain tops, which has a strange brown hue as a result of southerly winds blowing in sand from the Sahara, is starting to melt and the heat of the summer is surely not far away.

Ah, Spanish summers. Fiestas, jazmine, flamenco, gazpacho, figs, chilled vino rosado, long lunches and even longer siestas, hot sleepless nights, and ........ tourists. Perhaps I should consider hitting the road this year.

And I think I've found the ideal vehicle for someone with my current infirmity. Small, yet perfectly formed and with a built-in entertainment centre, I can even stock up whilst driving down a supermarket aisle. Perfect for life in the slow lane.
 

Send in the Clouds?

I have an confession to make - I love clouds (no sniggering at the back, please). From the humble Cirrus and Cumulus to the more spectacular Mammatus and Lenticularis, I love them all.

And I am not alone in this respect as the 25307 (soon to be 25308) members of the Cloud Appreciation Society (http://cloudappreciationsociety.org/) will testify.

For the sceptical amongst you, here is a short film I have put together with photos of the Sierra Nevada mountains taken from the ringside seat that is our house.

If you go down to the woods today

When you’re budgeting for your holiday in Spain, what items of expenditure should you factor into the equation? Flights, accommodation, and food and drink are probably at the top of most people's lists. Maybe also a hire car and some extra cash for souvenirs and last-minute gifts.

But how much should you set aside as a contingency for those little unexpected costs? Well, if you’re planning a BBQ in the countryside, you may wish to re-think your figures once you've read what happened to this unfortunate but rather naïve Brit abroad.

Click here to read article

The Best a Man can get

I am currently stuck in the UK for a period of enforced R&R - recuperation and rehabilitation - following a hip replacement, and cabin fever is starting to set in.

My day seems to consist of popping pain killers, injecting my stomach to prevent DVT and nostalgically tucking into Fray Bentos Steak & Kidney pies whilst hopping around on crutches in a shell suit and a rather elegant pair of surgical stockings. The only respite from the confines of my padded cell is when a sympathetic neighbour takes me to the local Tescos and I race through the aisles on the complimentary mobility scooter, terrorizing other shoppers.

I also have to report that I have joined the ranks of young mothers, students and the unemployed in becoming addicted to day-time TV. Waking up to Holly Willoughby may be no bad thing but I am embarrassed to admit that I have become a dab hand at solving 9 letter anagrams in less than 30 seconds and spotting a bargain at an antiques fair. Moreover I now know how to turn my attic into cash in order to fund the wedding dress of my teenage gypsy bride and the DNA test of my allegedly illegitimate child.

And, perhaps worst of all, I have recently found myself reciting the straplines of various advertisements under my breath. Is this really the best a man can get?

A Stroll in the Park

One of the joys of living in the mountains of Andalucia is being surrounded by spectacular scenery and having a wide variety of flora and fauna on your doorstep. Whether your preference is for deep ravines, babbling brooks, orange groves or soaring eagles, everything is readily accessible and indeed often within easy walking distance - unless of course, like me, you are lazy, infirm or suffer from vertigo.

Here’s a video I took earlier whilst out with the dogs.

White Van Man

Those of us who live in southern Spain can almost set our watches by the various horns of the white van men who ply their trades in the small inland villages. The sleepy narrow streets come alive throughout the day to the sound of men offering bread, vegetables, fresh fish, frozen food, gas bottles, and even knife sharpening services. To the uninitiated, all the horns sound the same but to those with a trained ear each horn has its unique timbre, pitch and resonance. In my case, I rely upon our faithful Border Collie who barks when he hears my favourite baker in the distance.

 

Alfonso is a jolly little soul who bakes his bread in a neighbouring village before setting off across the valley to distribute his fresh baguettes. The strong alcoholic fumes emanating from his van suggest that each of his deliveries to the local hostelries is accompanied by a complimentary tipple.

 

When he discovered that I was from the UK, he insisted that I teach him some English. To date, almost three years later, he has mastered precisely 4 words – bread, roll, white, and van. Whether this is down to my lack of pedagogical skills or his permanent state of inebriation, I know not.

 

What I do know is that he has now been struggling with word number 5 (wholemeal) for the last 12 months and I am fearful that total command of the English language may elude him. In fact, his recent greeting of ‘Salam Alaykum’ suggests that his head has been turned by the seductive charms of the Moroccan lady who lives around the corner.

 

As retribution, I may be forced to move my custom to his arch rival, the implausibly named John of God.

Xmas and the Helicopter

It’s now December and the festive season will soon be upon us. The skies are blue but temperatures have plummeted at night and the wind cuts to the bone. The snow capped mountains of the Sierra Nevada are a tempting sight for us skiers.

The other year the kids bought me a remote control helicopter as a Xmas present. Resisting the temptation to open the box on Xmas Eve, I woke up like an excited child the following morning to prepare for the inaugural flight.

The first signs were not promising – inadequate altitude and insufficient/excessive acceleration coupled with incompetent aeronautics – so I decided to move out of the safe environs of the sitting-room and into the thrill but dangers of the street. The blades rotated at speed, the vertical take-off was magnificent and the helicopter soared……… backwards. I suddenly realised that unless I took immediate action my new toy was destined for a tragic watery end in the Mediterranean so I ditched it and the helicopter made a less than graceful landing on a neighbour’s roof.

I cautiously knocked on his door. Now, I may know a few Spanish words but ‘Apologies for disturbing you on this most holy of days but my spanking new remote control helicopter has gone into a tail-spin and appears to have lodged itself on your rickety corrugated asbestos roof’ tested me to the limit. Without batting an eyelid, Francisco proceeded to place a ladder on his upper terrace and climb onto the roof. He returned a few minutes later, helicopter in hand, and rather disappointedly asked ‘Is this it?’, clearly having expected to find a full-scale model.

As we descended, I noticed the rather large cannabis plant on his patio. Perhaps this explained his relaxed frame of mind.