tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6004649227632010932024-03-19T10:28:42.783+01:00Nena PolarisNena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-8101257788483628292011-04-11T22:28:00.000+02:002011-04-11T22:28:57.714+02:00Oh my goodness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhga1bgrAdwFOqSnIf7kXACXOtLUYuxK9KTSvYkKcrS8EWOAVF3Bgl3SrJDYObZNedCF0bmpg2TbOfC4KTP5GSRVbOW57BFWc6qke1ZWYa-btGsObjx13UB68UA8KLJD2LcYpIt_5SOjeI/s1600/IMG_5841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhga1bgrAdwFOqSnIf7kXACXOtLUYuxK9KTSvYkKcrS8EWOAVF3Bgl3SrJDYObZNedCF0bmpg2TbOfC4KTP5GSRVbOW57BFWc6qke1ZWYa-btGsObjx13UB68UA8KLJD2LcYpIt_5SOjeI/s320/IMG_5841.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">RoboCop - I spent half an hour trying to persuade it to take my 6,30 euros</span></i></div>Oh my goodness. I went to a slimming club this evening. Came out with a lighter wallet and a wadge of things to read. Got a parking ticket for being a blonde and not realising it. Council offer of the day was fork out 60 euros at the police station or pay 6,30 on the spot. I opted for the second. Several other blondes had parked next to me so I felt a lot better. <br />
At the slimming club I have been paired up with another lady, Christine, so that we don't let our partners down. We swapped phone numbers so we can encourage each other. I found the British atmosphere a little alien particularly that baked beans seem to be allowed with everything. It made me realise I have become quite the native. A lot of useful information including how to make a tortilla de patatas (Spanish omelette) without olive oil. I can't begin to imagine what The Artist would say about that.<br />
Came home and had two glasses of cava and a pizza. Am now off to bed to read up info wadge and see where pizza fits in. Joking apart, I start tomorrow. Before my knees and hips give out forever. I've been given a 1kg goal to lose this week. Even I should be able to manage that. <br />
No weather report - got a new widget on the side of the page that does it all for me.Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-89100149808594955212011-01-26T22:05:00.002+01:002011-01-26T22:10:49.030+01:00It’s the little things in life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNwRfyfz5_ZuxAi6ERXzZhyphenhyphenTPCv9clRMLyi74HKKYR4FVsmzrITAmYwhJmtBD_vukQhEO9dO6fk0X5gm1HdtJq5j5CsAb5fZrtNAg3pS4-1nlS6DTid1fonfCZFn_ZxaOF_PZ-m0-y8Q/s1600/IMG_4150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNwRfyfz5_ZuxAi6ERXzZhyphenhyphenTPCv9clRMLyi74HKKYR4FVsmzrITAmYwhJmtBD_vukQhEO9dO6fk0X5gm1HdtJq5j5CsAb5fZrtNAg3pS4-1nlS6DTid1fonfCZFn_ZxaOF_PZ-m0-y8Q/s320/IMG_4150.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">The alloy centre that goes inside my 17 215/40 tyre - whatever that means</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I’VE BEEN saving up to replace two </span><span lang="EN-GB">tyres</span><span lang="EN-US"> on the car. It might sound ridiculous but if your car comes fitted with huge, fat tyres that give you traction like a tank and help your car guzzle petrol you’ll know they don’t come cheap. For those in the know they’re 17 215/40 tyres. If that's you, please email me and explain what this means.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Anyway the village <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">taller </i>or garage ordered what I needed and today was the day. We confabbed. Or rather I asked and Paco answered. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">“So what’s the plan? New tyres on the front?"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Paco rubbed his blackened hand across his face. Amazingly he didn’t get a sooty chin. The black must be embedded. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Naaah. Best put the new ones on the back to stop it sliding around.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">An enlightened “Ah” from me in reply. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Paco explained – back tyres on the front, new tyres on the back, old tyres in the bin. And off he went.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I watched him change the first one and asked him if it was normal these days if someone (like me) couldn’t change their own tyre.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Yes, especially if you have to do this” he replied as he whacked the jammed back tyre off with a large metal pipe. Something I don’t carry in the car. I also saw how he dismantled the alloy drums from the rubber bits and felt old when I discovered that inner tubes had gone the way of the choke and other now-obsolete motoring bits.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Then I wandered off, rather bored, and let them get on with it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">There’s a bakery two doors down and it was tea time so couldn’t resist taking a look at what was on offer. I came out clutching a bag full of calories, mainly in the form of small </span>Argentinean meat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">empanadas </i>or pasties, having made friends with the bakeress (yes, I know but I like the sound of bakeress). Thought I could tempt the Hockey Star when I got home and of course I’d help him out.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Here in Spain, and no doubt elsewhere, some small shopkeepers aren’t too fussed about the appearance of their businesses or themselves. I’ve been in quite a few soulless places, too depressing to want to hang around in, even less buy anything. But this bakery was different. The affable lady behind the counter knew the neighbourhood customers by name. She was middle-aged, short and rotund. Her tightly bunned hair was the canary yellow colour of home dye, but it had been carefully applied and there wasn’t a grey hair in sight. Her full lips were tidily painted a deep red and her eyebrows pencil-thin. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">The shop was warm and clean. The bread was displayed </span><span lang="EN-GB">appetisingly</span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-US">in large bins behind her and every counter was groaning with carefully wrapped cakes, biscuits, pastries, croissants – the lot. To one side of the counter was a large fabric-lined basket full of eggs carefully laid out on a bed of straw. She’d obviously taken a lot of care to entice buyers to spend. She told me when they baked the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">empanadas, </i>twice repeating the days they were made – Mondays, Wednesdays and Sunday mornings - because she wanted to make sure I would return. I will I told her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6pyypMcekeAKcdO17QP435l9H5UsF8kBUdwbwbxvZmVHnjp7S17jCU-cPv_6FMzBzQ4KK9R18nuEU0y36otZ_XYYXS5vw7JXvUwexgyRXQ4eBf1pjMiXU6_e2Qg5Ptu7Jx-yMWXM-zY/s1600/IMG_5545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid6pyypMcekeAKcdO17QP435l9H5UsF8kBUdwbwbxvZmVHnjp7S17jCU-cPv_6FMzBzQ4KK9R18nuEU0y36otZ_XYYXS5vw7JXvUwexgyRXQ4eBf1pjMiXU6_e2Qg5Ptu7Jx-yMWXM-zY/s320/IMG_5545.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Temptation lay all around....</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;">They were still busy back at the taller but an old friend from the children’s nursery school days had shown up with a tyre that had a mysterious slow puncture. We stood by the row of lame cars and tried to catch up on several years of news. The more we talked the slower Paco worked. The more we joked, the wider Paco’s smile got. <br />
“He’s in stitches,” said Regina as Paco went off with another tyre.<br />
We did kids, education, financial climate, lack of jobs and other local <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">empanada </i>salespoints in a flash. Menopause, hysterectomies, age, aches and pains and frightening health stories took quite a bit longer. We women of a certain age seem to be a tad fixated on these things lately. Can’t think why. We parted ways, perhaps for another couple of years.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">I drove home content. I’d got my new tyres and a safer car. The Hockey Star wasn’t going to skid round corners any more. My wallet had fainted at bill-paying time but I was looking forward to a glass of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tinto </i>and I’d make a toast to the little things in life, may I recognise and enjoy them when they come my way. And another to all the different people who cross my path every day and make it richer. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Ah, and another to Argentinean <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">empanadas </i>…yum. Think I'll open another bottle of wine.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 167.3pt;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">Weather today: Cold, overcast with some showers. Wind has dropped. We appear to be on the path of several low pressure trains again, just like last year. High 13ºC/55ºF. Low 9ºC/48ºF. </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 6.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">SE 21 km/h. Pressure 1005 mb and dropping. Relative humidity 80%. UV Index 2. Snow above 1,400 m. </span></span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-73173884158950442352011-01-20T22:16:00.000+01:002011-01-20T22:16:39.422+01:00I’d recognise that face anywhere<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSr_k4_MS0sVaFvkfhS8QBdQLIiyOT7VufehCKbidEiq_MAyD5hZ4vVtVUO_8Gc35c19QH8mXKan0Xjgvnt5GI-OVGqvQs_27YpvL29Jk-S9iC30k1vyxvXkOGoZe50MW_vpk7lCpL-A/s1600/IMG_5538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSr_k4_MS0sVaFvkfhS8QBdQLIiyOT7VufehCKbidEiq_MAyD5hZ4vVtVUO_8Gc35c19QH8mXKan0Xjgvnt5GI-OVGqvQs_27YpvL29Jk-S9iC30k1vyxvXkOGoZe50MW_vpk7lCpL-A/s320/IMG_5538.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">FROM time to time in our little village, a desperate pet owner pastes lampposts, walls, in fact anything that doesn’t move, with A4 photocopies of their lost animal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually they’re dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some offer a small reward, others don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All profess to the family’s love for Fido, and of his delicate health which will suffer without the proper medication.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact this last fact is such a recurring one that I’ve decided that either there is a senior-dog napper in our midst or a secret Korean restaurant has opened up with a fistful of clients with a penchant for tough mutt.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I’ve never heard of any of the animals being found, though they could have been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> As the weeks pass t</span>he ink on the posters runs in the rain; the paper goes brown in the sun and the wind rips it to shreds until it flaps itself violently off its support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Interestingly Fido is never worth a colour photocopy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just black and white.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Today The American and I took our morning constitutional to pick up the daily newspapers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bit of exercise, a chat and a quick bark at the newsagent (a technique I learned off a Yorkshire Terrier a few days ago so it’s still a joke which has The American, The Newsagent and I rolling around rather pathetically).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overnight a new A4 photocopy had hit our streets but surprisingly this time it is for a lost eagle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, an eagle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the caring owner had even included a photo of his bird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I studied it for a moment while The American strided ahead (he has long legs). <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hey O!”, I shouted. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Take a look at this”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He backtracked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We looked at the poster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now there’s a face I’d recognise anywhere” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hoots of laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The joys of sharing the same warped sense of humour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought the outline of an eagle in flight might be more useful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all I was hardly going to come face to face with our feathered friend and we have eagles and other indigenous birds of prey flying around these mountains and I don’t think I’m the only one who’d have trouble knowing one from the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We walked on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggled with the ethics of returning our buddy to captivity should he land unsuspectingly on my shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all he’d made a successful break for freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would he be able to feed himself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The American thought so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thought the eagle’s natural instinct would kick in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do hope so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We mused over the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Kinda like returning a slave to captivity” said The American after a while.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Fly on feathered friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hope you’re enjoying your new-found freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">Sorry, no weather included today. TV weather forecast just starting. Sad I know.</span></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-60679736071662105242010-12-29T00:45:00.000+01:002010-12-29T00:45:19.531+01:00A white Christmas at last<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9_N3kAdEqbbAuOVWVdZI9Zc4isoJAwY9E0PqgAbwVlwuMylPkqhAUqQe3jliqa3W2IIIEOwfmBvjeSD0bMqKmLicVIkPXv_EvrUUHMLNiPSX7ZK8U6SKyIHrg0BYsA25amiG2_6LT9c/s1600/DSC_0979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9_N3kAdEqbbAuOVWVdZI9Zc4isoJAwY9E0PqgAbwVlwuMylPkqhAUqQe3jliqa3W2IIIEOwfmBvjeSD0bMqKmLicVIkPXv_EvrUUHMLNiPSX7ZK8U6SKyIHrg0BYsA25amiG2_6LT9c/s320/DSC_0979.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><b>No dreaming needed here, everything was white </b></span></i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuCnMDtDtNGM-k30QpcjIwFRtaVnZ7xGHXd5enFMHcNRC8zibDU1kzFg73PaKdNzv2LTXJ6eOaRDRoRgYs_lI9kst4cG_GCtQf1ywSIE4FNiETOghkJ3HHlPIWdxfvccllin2Stz7EUw/s1600/IMG_5394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuCnMDtDtNGM-k30QpcjIwFRtaVnZ7xGHXd5enFMHcNRC8zibDU1kzFg73PaKdNzv2LTXJ6eOaRDRoRgYs_lI9kst4cG_GCtQf1ywSIE4FNiETOghkJ3HHlPIWdxfvccllin2Stz7EUw/s320/IMG_5394.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><i><b>Mini Mama's incredibly delicious gingerbread cookies</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div class="MsoSubtitle"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Sigh. Back to work although I</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> had a marvellous Christmas in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region>. My first white Christmas since I was about six years old although I didn’t have as much fun in the snow this time. Back then I was an energetic little madame and revelled in the stuff. Now I’m post hysterectomy, of a ripe age and worried about ripping my stitches, so no snowman building, snowball fights or treks through the countryside, but plenty of laughs inside the house instead. </span></div><div class="MsoSubtitle"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">We almost didn't make the trip what with Heathrow being snowed in, but after much nail-biting, and angst-ridden moments the Hockey Star and I flew into LHR just as the snow passenger back log cleared. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Literally the first day the airport was just about back to normal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Before we started our journey I had the uncomfortable feeling we were ‘flying into the storm’, especially after our flight the day before was cancelled. But we got away with just a three-hour delay. The HS carried cases, hand luggage, coats, the lot – he trundled along endless kilometres of airport passages laden down like a Tibetan sherpa’s donkey while I, Lady Muck, swanned along behind him. I could get used to this "I've just had an operation" lark. Still he carried out his task in good humour. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Even so I was surprised just how tiring I found the trip. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Waiting for us at the other end were Mini Mama, Grammy and Grampa, The Beast, Auntie and The Boys (three of my nephews). </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Roads were icy and fields covered in snow so it was batten down the hatches and enjoy the company. Mini Mama had baked her heart out and Grammy had a fine menu prepared. Christmas trees sparkled in every room; games were on the table; presents were stacked high; CD choirs were harking the heralds and the fire was lit, though not perhaps roaring, and we truly had a memorable time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">But before we knew it, the Hockey Star and I had been hurtled back across the sky courtesy of BA and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Iberia</st1:place></st1:country-region>, who were good enough to bring our cases along. And here we are – back in our daily bubble – having said a sad farewell to the family, especially to Mini Mama.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">The Artist, who knows what a good appetite I have, was waiting to meet us off the plane, armed with homemade soup, crusty bread and a large leg of Serrano ham which sent the Hockey Star into a frenzy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Alas, today I have returned to the office in the midst of a deadline and wheeled myself back behind my desk hoping no one would notice I was back. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">The day has gone well, although I haven’t resolved the problem yet of how to wish readers a Happy New Year when the splash is about a massive 10% electricity price hike that comes into force on January 1. Plus a gas price hike too. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">After all you can't write "Happy New Year"and right underneath have Price Hike Start to 2011. Sounds sort of sarky or contradictory. Will try to resolve tomorrow - my brain cell is about as nimble as a farmer whose welly has got stuck in the mud. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’m sure it’s been knocked for six by the anaesthetic. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I’m just hoping it’ll get back to normal some time soon because this floundering feeling is very disconcerting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Weather today: Grey, grey, grey – but hey, a lot warmer than the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">UK</st1:place></st1:country-region> where we spent Christmas. High 17ºC/63ºF. Low 9ºC/48ºF. Wind, easterly 14kms/h. Pressure 1016 mb and dropping. Relative humidity 67%. UV Index 2. 15% chance of rain. Snow above – They’re not saying. Perhaps because they don’t expect any. </span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><br />
</span> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-45891447872843913852010-12-01T21:09:00.001+01:002010-12-28T16:28:53.906+01:00A milestone day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJT4VFUkSnRZwiuN0K5xc-SNm5OzmEo9MWgLeRspjHEOjQJUvyuV0ySrgrghk8-TE5g1NwGEFojEo2HPLg3l_wDwRgTQzB0L4hh5cK0UvvAGHnRFBAMfUtzHoA8Vsu5dPUKCBHHzLVEnM/s1600/6a00e54ee8a8ff883301156f2bbf63970c-800wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJT4VFUkSnRZwiuN0K5xc-SNm5OzmEo9MWgLeRspjHEOjQJUvyuV0ySrgrghk8-TE5g1NwGEFojEo2HPLg3l_wDwRgTQzB0L4hh5cK0UvvAGHnRFBAMfUtzHoA8Vsu5dPUKCBHHzLVEnM/s1600/6a00e54ee8a8ff883301156f2bbf63970c-800wi.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><i>A short walk and I was exhausted</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">YES, today has been a bit of a milestone day in my hysterectomy recovery. Given that the sun finally came out and looked like it was staying out for a while I decided to put into action my plan to get some exercise to help me get stronger.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Doctor said I should walk, on the flat. Trouble is I have to go uphill to get to the flat. Hmm, what to do? Drive or walk to flat bit? I decided my midriff is too sore still to wear a seatbelt and I needed to move the old skeleton so I took to the road to walk up to the flat bit. At my usual slow pace this takes 5 minutes. But at my convalescent snail speed it took me 15 minutes. When I got to the flat bit, I was exhausted. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Literally. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dizzy, shaky and exhausted. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Luckily the office is right there so I was able to sit down for a while and catch up with The American and Miss Moneypenny before The American kindly drove me home. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The results of this outing threw me because I had been wondering whether I was fit to go back to work this week. And it seems that I might not be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Of course if I am lying around like Lady Muck, or sitting on my bottom in a comfy chair then I'm keen but anything more energetic than a bit of lounging and I'm wiped out. Am now in a dither as to what to do but will see what the doctor says tomorrow.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Second grand event was this evening. The Hockey Star has left to visit The Girlfriend in Holland, but without throwing the rubbish out first. Given that the whiff was maturing rapidly in intensity (I don't want to discuss how long it had been waiting to be thrown out) I took the bit between the teeth and drove the car up the hill, <i>sans</i> seatbelt, to throw it away. Found getting in and out of the car quite tough.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But hey, I did both so although less well than I would have liked, I got there. And I now have a plan. To drive to flat bit, then do some walking. I know I will get very tired, but if I do a little each day it should help me get stronger. It's strange feeling like a wimp.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh, and PS - Morning TV was all about feet today - and yes, it was interesting and yes, this is definitely an age thing. I couldn't imagine any health programmes would have been of interest to me at 20. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: orange; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", "sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Weather today: Overcast and heavy showers first thing but the sky cleared around 11am and stayed that way for the rest of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We even had some sunshine! High 15ºC/59ºF. Low 9ºC/48ºF.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here there is some debate Aemet internet site says southerly 40kms/h, other sources say westerly 29 km/h and the RTVE gizmo here at the left of the this blog says NW 12kms/h. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Based on my sucked-finger-in-the-air report I’d go with the wind dying out over the course of the day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pressure 982 mb and stable. Relative humidity 67%. UV Index 2. Snow above 1,200 m. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></span></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-51198882890945096712010-12-01T01:12:00.001+01:002010-12-01T01:22:45.612+01:00Morning TV<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzta04juLslQhME0qz-evVzTHpcEixsnRyACfvXYL992HkPwzmxMPU-uswej1FqNdDl6fOHxSjVopQUn-ZnTw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">PISTOL start this morning for The Artist, so while he rushed around getting ready to leave for the big city I made coffee and toast for breakfast. The Hockey Star was long gone when we got up, catching the seven o'clock bus to the university. It was stilllll raining so I spent another day holed up at home (video of Saturday's deluge included today). At one point I thought of foolishly going for my muscle-stretching short walk but decided it wasn't worth the risk of coming down with some lurgy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Especially after I discovered that I'd had almost 45% of my salary discounted for being on sick leave. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now I feel very sick. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">During my convalescence, especially while in the vegetative stage, I discovered morning TV and also, rather depressingly, that every morning the new health topic was of interest. One morning it was arthritis (who luckily I've not had the acquaintance but The Artist has), then high blood pressure, menopause, then pelvic floor muscles. Need I go on? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This obsession with health is very senior-citizenish and must stop. I must try and will myself into a younger frame of mind if a younger body isn't possible.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Weather today: Overcast and rain most of the day, clearing during the evening but everything is so soggy outside. High 13ºC/55ºF. Low 10ºC/50ºF. WNW breeze 9 km/h. Pressure 982 mb and stable. Relative humidity 87%. UV Index 2. Snow above 1,200 m. </span></span>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-163639177006429722010-11-29T15:19:00.001+01:002010-11-29T15:22:11.945+01:00It never rains, it pours<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A LOT of water has gone under the bridge since I last wrote. Most of it on Saturday and today. The first rain since the summer and it's tipping it down out there. It's a great afternoon to be home, warm and cosy, and not have to venture out, but yesterday, after a very soggy Saturday, The Artist and I went for a short and slow walk around the village. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was one of those sparkly, crystal clear, bright autumn days - chilly in the shade but bliss in the sunshine. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My first leisurely outing since my hysterectomy op three weeks ago. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Artist succumbed to a Spanish breakfast of <i>churros</i> (fried dough strips) while I munched a <i>pitufo catalana</i> (small bread roll with grated tomato, olive oil and serrano ham), the sun warming my back while we read the Sunday papers and sipped hot, black coffees. Eventually, as the tapas and lunch crowd started arriving, we hobbled off around the village. I made it to the church and back although we stopped a couple of times to rest on nearby benches, watching the world go by for a few minutes. It was a glimpse of old age, if we're lucky enough to get there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Making the most of what the day offers!</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Up by the church we leaned over the railings (wrapped up in jumpers and scarves) to admire the view down to the sea and found a woman making the most of the sunshine, stripped down to her bikini, in a quiet, sheltered (but overlooked) spot by a stream running through the gardens immediately below our vantage point. I don't think she's there today.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It felt good to be back in the world and although I was tired after our outing, I felt a lot better for it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We knocked back a small beer on another sun-soaked bar terrace before making our way back to the car and home. I'm definitely beginning to feel better.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Weather today: Local orange alert for heavy rain fall until 6pm. This means we’re expecting approx. 3 cms rain in any given hour and around 8 cms of rain over 12 hours. High 13ºC/55ºF. Low 9ºC/48ºF. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Easterly wind 19-36 km/h. Pressure 982 mb and descending. Relative humidity 94% and 85% chance of rain (Err, it’s been raining all day so I think they stopped short on that one). UV Index 2. Snow above 1,600 m. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I've added the rtve.es weather link to my blog today although it's sadly lacking in information and won't always say the same as my note here, which is a compilation of data from several reliable sites including the Aemet one. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span><span lang="EN-GB"></span></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-53667070797088423392010-09-09T17:38:00.000+02:002010-09-09T17:38:02.083+02:00Another cricket story<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEIY43a-vpkp9SmxsI6qvjwHYP4EwlcRPV9iY8n_mwj0yXrnB84U4JkJNX9a1sHM0qnsVD8zVyE6iUHW3VPwpX5xc2Ryz10piwyM6RdchssYzjEdjj5sNuTQjIkrhfK7Agq7spp4ZTL8/s1600/Lady%2520Bending%2520Over.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNEIY43a-vpkp9SmxsI6qvjwHYP4EwlcRPV9iY8n_mwj0yXrnB84U4JkJNX9a1sHM0qnsVD8zVyE6iUHW3VPwpX5xc2Ryz10piwyM6RdchssYzjEdjj5sNuTQjIkrhfK7Agq7spp4ZTL8/s320/Lady%2520Bending%2520Over.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"><em>The expat walker recognised my face</em></span></div>
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THIS happened this morning. Honest. <br />
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First day back in the office after a trip to Blighty for a family reunion. It was lovely to catch up with nephews, nieces, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins' kids and Uncle Tom Cobbly and all. My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary - Congratulations folks, I think that deserves a medal.<br />
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Anyway, I arrived at the office to find a little cricket sitting on a computer keyboard. Worried that he'd starve to death in our cement and bricks environment I carefully scooped him up with a glass and magazine and took him outside. I bent from the waist (yes, I know it's not the way to do it) and as I am bending over from the waist, an expat Brit who is but a nodding acquaintance, walks towards me from behind and says....<br />
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"Now there's a face I recognise!"<br />
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And walks on. I straightened up, was so surprised that I was speechless, and rushed back into the office where I told my work pal O before we collapsed, howling with laughter. Now how's that for a welcome back! I should have told him not to be so cheeky!<br />
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PS - Re. previous entry. Despite two days on yellow alert - it never rained. What a swizz.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">Weather today: Not a cloud in the sky. High 29ºC/84ºF. Low 20ºC/70ºF. Light easterly breeze 18 km/h. Pressure 1019 mb and descending. Relative humidity 44%. No chance of rain. UV Index 8. Snow above 3,900 m. <em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Information source: AEMET</span></em>. </span><br />
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<br />Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-88833190809925867472010-08-16T23:41:00.001+02:002010-08-16T23:44:19.729+02:00No exaggeration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmanr8ekpqm5ZEea29FyKT2vk5e7zID2wyDbKpXBL_SR_qQ1fiPMUF3COBLBN6SBlCWZIMNfaaTjX5WO39v11aZ3r1wjTxeBcEqSJWRqaYEwrzRWgzKY5Vy-1dhqw4JfUqKUstKcgLRi0/s1600/IMG_4169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmanr8ekpqm5ZEea29FyKT2vk5e7zID2wyDbKpXBL_SR_qQ1fiPMUF3COBLBN6SBlCWZIMNfaaTjX5WO39v11aZ3r1wjTxeBcEqSJWRqaYEwrzRWgzKY5Vy-1dhqw4JfUqKUstKcgLRi0/s320/IMG_4169.JPG" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><i>Jiminy Cricket sheltering from rain underneath a leaf - Actually this was just a practice drill the other day when I watered the garden. He was a great poser and sat very still so I could get my snapshot. Click on the photo to enlarge it and look at the water 'bubbles' on his body and legs.</i></span></div>
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IN CASE you thought I was exaggerating about the Terral - turns out it was the hottest night in the last 68 years which is the time they've been keeping proper weather records here (I learn something new every day). Since then temperature has dropped slowly and tonight is blissful. A cool breeze bringing in the rain. <br />
We're on a yellow Meteo Alert for heavy showers and a good ol' summer storm as of midnight tonight. I love thunderstorms just so long as I'm safely inside and not sheltering under a solitary tree on the hillside.<br />
Electricity always goes out when we have a storm. It's mathematical.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Weather today: Overcast with some sunny spells. Felt a lot cooler, especially this afternoon. High 29ºC/84ºF. Low 21ºC/70ºF (what a difference). Light westerly breeze 18 km/h. Pressure 1020 mb and descending. Relative humidity 87%. 25% chance of rain. UV Index 9. Snow above 3,700 m – and yes, there is still snow on the Sierra Nevada. Information source: AEMET. Silly comments: Yours truly.</span><br />
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<br />Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-15348989386888949332010-08-12T17:05:00.001+02:002010-08-13T00:43:44.281+02:00The terrible Terral<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUXHAY_TYljJfkWLH_Hahw6XGjkRhDv75n8wD-T5sYSzc7Jeq04sLfyLevbXKt22mn7NwrydxLLCG1ax6mxxr0wd63sHGSwzyKDL28S7dvk3Vd4n-x6i9lYvbmAHRZUeXv-xKCOPsu8w/s1600/IMG_1121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUXHAY_TYljJfkWLH_Hahw6XGjkRhDv75n8wD-T5sYSzc7Jeq04sLfyLevbXKt22mn7NwrydxLLCG1ax6mxxr0wd63sHGSwzyKDL28S7dvk3Vd4n-x6i9lYvbmAHRZUeXv-xKCOPsu8w/s320/IMG_1121.JPG" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><i>A helicopter douses flames just behind the village. The pilots do a remarkable job flying with all that water and the drag it creates on the aircraft. </i></span></div>
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IT INVARIABLY strikes us foreigners as strange, when on a very, very hot day, the Spanish will shut all their windows and doors. Just the opposite of what you’d expect. Leaving everything opens means a welcome breeze can flow through your house. Except when the terral starts. Then it is no breeze, it is a blast of blistering hot, dry air. “Terral” whispers one neighbour to another. “Viene terral” (terral is coming), shouts the next to another as they all scuttle inside to shut up the houses, lower the blinds and stay off the streets.<br />
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There are several kinds of terral but the one that is loathed here, on the southern coast of Spain is that which comes in from the west, over Portugal then turns sharp right and comes bearing down on us from the north, across the scorched land of the Iberian peninsula, bringing with it extremely hot, dry temperatures. <br />
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If you have never experienced terral – a near enough comparison is to heat up your oven and then when it reaches top temperature open the door. That blast of scorching hot, dry air is what you feel when you step outside the aircon here on a terral day.<br />
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So there we were last night, The Hockey Star and I happily settled in our comfortably cool aircon watching The Tudors (boy, are we’re hooked on this series at the moment) when – blaff – out goes the electricity. <br />
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The fact that last night was the first official feria evening when the mayor proudly hits the switch to light up our fairground with thousands of non energy-saving light bulbs meant that we were almost expecting a power cut. But as time dragged on and I lit my ready supply of candles, (nowhere in western Europe are there power cuts as frequently as in our village) we realised that we were in for the long haul and that it wasn’t the fair but the fact that it was the hottest night this year and everyone was using aircon or fans. Or had been. Sleepless, restless, sweaty, uncomfortable, gasping night. The electricity came back at 6am and the temperature outside was already 32ºC/90ºF. <br />
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Terral is ideal fire weather and no sooner said than done. Thick, white smoke and flames could be seen from the office mid morning as the mountainside above the motorway caught fire. Odds on it was a cigarette butt flung from some caring citizen’s car window. Fires by the motorway invariably are.<br />
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In the meantime, fingers crossed for tonight . let's hope the local power grid is up to the challenge - think I might try and get some sleep while we have aircon. Just in case.<br />
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<span style="color: orange;">Weather today: Ghastly. So hot and dry that I can feel the hairs in my nostrils crisping up. Severe weather warning: Yellow alert for heatwave (Yesterday was orange alert and highs of 42ºC/108ºF – Bluurgh). High 38ºC/100ºF. Low 25ºC/77ºF (Met Office erring on the side of caution). Northeasterly breeze 18 km/h this morning after last night’s gales. Changing to southerly 22km/h this afternoon which will hopefully bring lower temperatures. Pressure 1012 mb and stable. Relative humidity 33%. Officially zilch chance of rain. UV Index 9. Snow above 3,700 m – and yes, there is still snow on the Sierra Nevada. Information source: AEMET. Silly comments: Yours truly.</span><br />
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<br />Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-1365007367867013272010-08-09T00:22:00.004+02:002010-08-09T01:10:48.677+02:00Ayyyy, feria time is here<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuBDWVs8uaAH3fLtMQhZpG2E532I_BR8W7zcn-dbbPdjpR6l1f9OPD3sJZhoXykw-LEbM2NKHvkH_yPctneSpvZ-fI_yysKPK-Gi5waY92YX_PN5AGL_tL-FJ4HXM8H2MQ7R23WyI-XY/s1600/IMG_4191.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuBDWVs8uaAH3fLtMQhZpG2E532I_BR8W7zcn-dbbPdjpR6l1f9OPD3sJZhoXykw-LEbM2NKHvkH_yPctneSpvZ-fI_yysKPK-Gi5waY92YX_PN5AGL_tL-FJ4HXM8H2MQ7R23WyI-XY/s320/IMG_4191.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503176687017439634" /></a><i><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">Estrella Morente (in the cream dress) doing her stuff - Look her up on YouTube if you want to know more.</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">..</span></span></div></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0); line-height: 18px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">MID August is feria time in our village. Any hope of a normal routine is useless. Anyone who is someone, and let's face it we'd all like to think we are, will be out until the wee hours dancing flamenco, downing fino sherry, paying small fortunes to let the kids ride on bumper cars and generally behaving as if the end of the world will arrive tomorrow, which it will - for those who've overindulged - the next morning, but</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-size: small; "> that's another story.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You might detect a note of envy - regarding the all night partying - and you'd be right. Some of us have to stay on the straight and narrow and go to work. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But last night being Saturday we did manage to get to the village flamenco festival - the start of our annual festivities. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Flamenco has a bit of a reputation for going on into the night. And this it did - until just gone 2am. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I'd faded a while before (well we were out the night before too - as in Rome etc) and was having serious trouble trying not to fall asleep while sitting on the cement seating of our local bullring. Ayyyy,y ayyyyy, ayyyyy, something unintelligible, ayyyy, sang Estrella Morente, who is actually quite good but by the time she got on stage it was past my bedtime. Still it was good to go out and there was something rather special about sitting under the stars in a bullring high above the Mediterranean, the sea below glittering and the gypsies guitar chords drifting off into the darkness while Estrella ayed and ayed a bit more. I must go out more often....</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Night.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0); line-height: 18px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0); line-height: 18px; font-family:'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Weather today: Strange sort of day. Quite overcast and heavy. Felt cooler although temperatures were similar to the rest of the week. High 30ºC/86ºF. Low 24ºC/75ºF. Southerly not-even-breeze, more like a whisper. Zilch to 7 km/h. Pressure 1015 mb and stable. Relative humidity 68%. Possibility of rain 5% (as if...) UV Index 10 - sizzling skin time. </span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Information source: AEMET. Silly comments: Yours truly.</span></em></span>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-91610155291316637912010-08-05T17:43:00.003+02:002010-08-05T18:08:53.574+02:00Be warned, new driver on the roads<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuex48FOqRXULHHJ3OM1c20VU1si0CJE2QB9dvTvJQ83X7_DXmrZ0SOSoW_ipHUPmgR2doZLSVdWXzxSJc3iGEy79nLvctFtNZUQ00hq9BapQB2TnzmOvOblHx4o2pMDObyqW5kSXameI/s1600/met_torcal_es+copia.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 181px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501958082611131698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuex48FOqRXULHHJ3OM1c20VU1si0CJE2QB9dvTvJQ83X7_DXmrZ0SOSoW_ipHUPmgR2doZLSVdWXzxSJc3iGEy79nLvctFtNZUQ00hq9BapQB2TnzmOvOblHx4o2pMDObyqW5kSXameI/s320/met_torcal_es+copia.jpg" /></a><em><span style="color:#ff6600;"> A great moment indeed<br /></span></em><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">THE Hockey Star has passed his driving test. Congratulations My Boy. First time too. Much clucking and chest puffing from mother hen. Of course.</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">Actually he passed it 12 days ago but it has taken that long for his provisional driving licence to come through. The definitive official driving licence could take (shrug of shoulders here from driving school receptionist, and pause while she thinks of a reasonable lie so that I don't get cross, "Perhaps two months. But of course with August in between it could be longer. As you know it's Trafico not us "... blah, blah, blah). </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">Still he can now drive my car, if he can still remember what to do. </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">All that is left is for us to hand over an almighty large amount of dosh to the insurance company this afternoon and spit-and-stick the L plate to the back window (where of course it will interfere with his rear-view vision but hey, what are side mirrors for?) </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">Ah yes, L plate? </span></div><br /><div align="left">Driving school receptionist "Ah well, we haven't received those yet but I'll let you know as soon as we do."</div><br /><div align="left">Luckily I still have MiniMama's L-plate, so we'll use that. </div><br /><div align="left">Be warned, there is a new driver on the road. I hope my nerves are up to it...</div><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;"></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff6600;">Weather today: Hot and sweaty. High 33ºC/91ºF. Low 22ºC/72ºF. Slight Easterly breeze 11 km/h. Pressure 1008 mb and rising. Relative humidity 68%. Possibility of rain 5% (as if...) UV Index 9 - equivalent of being roasted over an open fire. <em><span style="font-size:85%;">Information source: AEMET. Silly comments: Yours truly.</span></em></span></div></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-65629893734727581182010-06-14T00:03:00.002+02:002010-06-14T00:11:13.210+02:00Cars, the dreaded ITV and pit fear<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgHDTDe9AHbf01qZuPhXRQSFcIjomrtYprOitlK7kNLnhEMnyE03HKWYS5BAV0nyHg18-KLZWNsJZI3-W2nd8kqhaIKZgQymUBDlh59DFk2DYEWyyMYy_6R0eblcLtk_gqzKA-AuHJr8/s1600/itv-facua.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgHDTDe9AHbf01qZuPhXRQSFcIjomrtYprOitlK7kNLnhEMnyE03HKWYS5BAV0nyHg18-KLZWNsJZI3-W2nd8kqhaIKZgQymUBDlh59DFk2DYEWyyMYy_6R0eblcLtk_gqzKA-AuHJr8/s320/itv-facua.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482383495191718322" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">The gaping ITV pits that you have to drive over - yes, I know the car can't fall in there but it's nerve-wracking all the same</span></i></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><br /></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">ITV time (Inspeccion Tecnica de Vehiculos), or MOT for non-Spanish speakers, comes to all good cars at some point.<span> </span>It’s a time consuming but necessary part of owning a vehicle that’s over five years old.<span> </span>For worry-guts like me it’s a test of nerves. For others in a worse mental state, it’s time to sell the car and buy a brand new one again.<span> </span></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">When I owned Beryl, my bright yellow, trusty and ugly Renault 4, who was already 18 when I bought her, I’d worry each year but only slightly whether she’d pass or not.<span> </span>But because Renault 4s were pure mechanics, no electronics, just metal and cables, not much would go wrong and if it did it was dead easy and dirt cheap to fix.<span> </span></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">Taking Beryl to have her ITV was a pleasure. She’d be much admired by the ITV boys for the relic that she was and treated with awe and reverence.<span> </span>She was a star and given VIP treatment.<span> </span>But as she went from old to almost vintage Beryl became unstable (please, no comparisons with middle-aged women) and lost her brakes one time too often.<span> </span>I sold her and bought a safer, brand new Peugeot 106, all singing and dancing, it even had air-con and a radio although no character or quirky bits and I became just one more silver dash on the roads.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">Loretta, as we called her on account of the foul smelling trail she left (possibly something to do with the combustion?), which rhymes with pedoretta – a made up family word for the foul smelling trail that some people leave behind them, especially after eating beans - behaved reasonably well and passed most ITVs. But she was just one of the crowd.<span> </span>No special treatment and each year I’d worry a bit more about passing.<span> </span>Not passing meant spending lots of dosh at the garage and returning for another test.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">But ITVs evolved.<span> </span>On the bright side, you no longer had to sit for hours in a humungous queue but rang for an appointment, making it a faster event that no longer required taking a good book and a picnic.<span> </span>On the dark side, you had to drive your vehicle over an open pit with a man in it who would indecently poke and prod your car’s undercarriage while you accelerated and braked above him, trying to guess what he was looking for.<span> </span>A friend of mine compared it with a visit to the gynaecologist.<span> </span></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">After 10 years Loretta died.<span> </span>While parked she was backed into by some kind driver who didn’t leave their details.<span> </span>The experience shifted her radiator and the repair was going to cost more than she was worth.<span> </span>She was towed away to the scrap yard.<span> </span>This time without the emotional wrench and tears we shed when Beryl left us.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">Perhaps it mattered less because as tired and worn Loretta was towed off, Poppy sat gleaming and gloating, like a younger, more beautiful lover, outside our front gate.<span> </span>Her former owner had called her Poppy, on account of her bright red colour, so we kept the name.<span> </span></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">Last week Poppy was called up for her first MOT.<span> </span>She’s a bit racy, a special edition Polo which I’d been lucky to pick up for a good price but I felt that her flashiness could weigh against me, and no extra consideration given by the MOT lads.<span> </span>This fact together with my nervousness about driving over THE PIT meant that this time I enrolled the reluctant moral support of Minimama and took her with me to hold my hand under the guise that she should see how this was done now that she is a driver.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">She saw through me straight away.<span> </span>We arrived at lunchtime.<span> </span>We knew it was lunchtime because in 20 minutes they called out just two number plates.<span> </span>After 20 minutes it became like Bingo gone mad with numbers being garbled out at such speed that we were all dashing from the cool shade of the trees back into our sweaty vehicles to race from the car park to the line we’d been designated before we lost our slot.<span> </span></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">The Number Seven line chap waved me into the hangar towards the dreaded pit.<span> </span>He looked relieved to find out I spoke Spanish (un point in my favour).<span> </span>We began the usual ritual – windscreen wipers, left indicator, right indicator (no Señora, left is the other one…) headlights, fog lights (err, que? Ah, those – nervous giggle – sorry, I’ve never used them before).<span> </span>I think he was beginning to see what he was up against.<span> </span>My daughter certainly was.<span> </span>She squirmed down a little more in the passenger seat hoping no one was going to see her. Then I confessed, much to my daughter’s disgust, my pit fear.<span> </span>Don’t worry, Señora, he said making me feel the twit I am, I will steer you in while you slowly accelerate.<span> </span>Minimama rolled her eyes.<span> </span>It sounded a bit too intimate but I was willing to do whatever to avoid having to drive over The Pit on my own.<span> </span>And so he did – steer the car through my open window while I, oh so gently, pressed the accelerator and Cookie on my right kept saying – oh come on Mum a bit faster than that.<span> </span></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span lang="EN-US"><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Times New Roman;">With The Pit done we bounced, joggled, tossed and bumped through the rest of the test before moving aside to await the verdict. Would we, wouldn’t we?<span> </span>Oh joy, minutes later ‘my’ man was walking towards me with a red ITV sticker in his hand.<span> </span>We’d passed. I was so relieved that after having thanked him far too many times and almost kissing him on both cheeks, I drove out of the exit and turned the wrong way down the one-way street.<span> </span>No doubt, if he was watching, it would have confirmed what he’d been thinking.<span> </span>Nothing wrong with the car, it’s the owner who should be tested.</span></span><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-family:Arial;"></span></span><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-family:Arial;"></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="ecxapple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">Weather today: A tad overcast with showers promised this afternoon. Not quite the usual weather for this time of year. High 24ºC/75ºF, low 16ºC/61ºF. West North West breeze 16 km/h. Pressure 982mb and stable. Relative humidity 66%. UV Index 7.</span></span></span></p></span>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-74658572002584899912010-05-23T07:52:00.005+02:002010-05-23T09:48:13.517+02:00Health and safety - Spanish style or a law suit just waiting to happen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR8bmCJYGtPPGNwN489Zn-qtwG_jWaD2kHtKhG4Eq2SD3zuzsHmxQEsgRmInWtY4Nc1hnGU3j2zbzuvxdOExsFDn155r18ojJQqVloYCGBvRX8PiFqJV0RfTXrlxUzp_08-vMr4Bd3Jk/s1600/IMG_0905+reducido.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTR8bmCJYGtPPGNwN489Zn-qtwG_jWaD2kHtKhG4Eq2SD3zuzsHmxQEsgRmInWtY4Nc1hnGU3j2zbzuvxdOExsFDn155r18ojJQqVloYCGBvRX8PiFqJV0RfTXrlxUzp_08-vMr4Bd3Jk/s320/IMG_0905+reducido.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474368712362693010" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Adios mulberry trees</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZewjMqhnZlQDqSWeV5nuaY1qFBXntp05xP7rXD4cDM6jKLmtB9SEPzbc2e643f9T8MI9n4YjaY49wA0N5AY2OF9ipGonuC6Tt85lLnUDDWZJ-6kikKf3CHEKvwXeYTkaBKzTg7MLP9dI/s1600/IMG_1108+reduced.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZewjMqhnZlQDqSWeV5nuaY1qFBXntp05xP7rXD4cDM6jKLmtB9SEPzbc2e643f9T8MI9n4YjaY49wA0N5AY2OF9ipGonuC6Tt85lLnUDDWZJ-6kikKf3CHEKvwXeYTkaBKzTg7MLP9dI/s320/IMG_1108+reduced.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474364022646734034" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Our urban obstacle course</i></div></span><div>For a long time I've known it's safe to assume that because Spain hasn't yet been hit by the American craze of suing over everything and anything, authorities here are rather more relaxed over health and safety issues than in other countries. Take the little urban obstacle course that has materialised outside our office for example.<div><div><br /></div><div>Until recently, our street was a pretty tree-lined affair. Leafy and shady in the hot summer months, clear and light in the winter. Regularly spaced street lamps lit it at night, rubbish bins hugged each corner and all was well until ... the town hall ripped up the mulberry trees. Local residents had complained that each year the berries created such a juicy, sticky, mess that they wanted the trees removed. With local elections just around the corner - next year - the mayor was happy to oblige. The offending mulberry trees were uprooted and were, we were told, transplanted to another corner of the municipality where they could drop berries to their hearts' content. </div><div><br /></div><div>We heard that other 'cleaner' trees, probably oranges, were going to replace them. But the weeks have rolled by and the only thing that has materialised is a series of holes in the pavement covered up by cones (at best), big wooden pallets or loose paving stones (at worst) which blend in with the pavement and disguise the danger.</div><div><br /></div><div>To add to this, on Friday, council maintenance staff started removing the street lights, saying they were broken - which was strange as they worked just fine. In their place, they left holes surrounded by large, protruding nuts and bolts sticking out of the pavement - and as a warning - a yellow plastic bag stuffed in the hole. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since then we've not got much work done as we sit, biting our nails, enthralled with the suspense of watching passers-by - gossiping mothers, small running children, doddery old men, spaced-out teenagers and intent businessmen - walk unknowingly into our urban minefield. Will they, won't they.... </div><div><br /></div><div>So, because the town hall coffers are empty and the mayor isn't a bad chap (for a politician that is) and I needed to get back to work, I sent an email to a friend at his office on Friday - saying I am tempted to accidentally trip over one of the obstacles that the council has so readily provided me with and sue the town hall for a substantial amount or wait, camera ready, to get a photo and front page exclusive for the local papers when some poor soul has an unexpected head-on encounter with the ground and rearranges their nose. </div><div><br /></div><div>The reply came back - He was very fond of me and couldn't bear to think of me hurting myself - so the better option was to wait for the world exclusive....PS - They'll address the problem on Monday. </div><div><br /></div><div> Here's hoping nothing happens over the weekend because I'll miss my scoop.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0); line-height: 14px; font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Weather today: It's very early and hazy but the forecast promises another beautiful crystal-clear spring day. Lovely and warm in the sunshine, cooler in the shade. High 26ºC/79ºF, low 14ºC/57ºF. Easterly breeze 13 km/h. Pressure 1015mb and stable. Relative humidity 63%. UV Index 9.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(255, 102, 0); line-height: 14px; font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></div></div></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-52062189833373175292010-05-13T21:05:00.005+02:002010-05-13T21:22:30.924+02:00Discovering Tenthredo scrophulariae … and other fun activities<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLI-5Vv-KmMZfORmJvyNj1wM0HprnC1msrjn1J-zGDcG5tFHaswGedwQpxYirmCfpL9q-oX8QeRLJThaGJdJnpzbHOGWFI2R4OwJOQTrhCoXjbt8tFfuqoXKbYgjmBoU06KE5mf4Tod8/s1600/my+new+friend.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLI-5Vv-KmMZfORmJvyNj1wM0HprnC1msrjn1J-zGDcG5tFHaswGedwQpxYirmCfpL9q-oX8QeRLJThaGJdJnpzbHOGWFI2R4OwJOQTrhCoXjbt8tFfuqoXKbYgjmBoU06KE5mf4Tod8/s320/my+new+friend.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470836180107978434" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;"><i>Is it a bird? Is it a frog? No, it's a Tenthredo scrophulariae (name just rolls off <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><i>the tongue, right?)</i></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;"><i><br /></i></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOu2bZvWxkPhoKDb2rKWlTcpMXcfGmnBSWPQYPeX6kGDHOX5uCPVnyPLUL_dOdCVBrtHzuJzIIuwDCC42Fcd8n9PCnFC088MtcXu6L8UA8w_zKzwxJFZTE-fJl-8mxdfMlg6x_dOlm3g8/s1600/Rain+stopped+play.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOu2bZvWxkPhoKDb2rKWlTcpMXcfGmnBSWPQYPeX6kGDHOX5uCPVnyPLUL_dOdCVBrtHzuJzIIuwDCC42Fcd8n9PCnFC088MtcXu6L8UA8w_zKzwxJFZTE-fJl-8mxdfMlg6x_dOlm3g8/s320/Rain+stopped+play.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470835757399777810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;"><i>Rain stops play</i></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: 16.8pt;mso-outline-level:3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; ">EEKS, Day Eight already and I don’t seem to have crossed off much on my To-Do-List.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Or maybe I’ve done more than I think.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’ve finished reading a book, done my tax declaration, painted the inside of the garage, lots of gardening when rain hasn’t stopped play, gossiped in the village, had a siesta after lunch a couple of afternoons and cooked (willingly) something tasty every mealtime.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Trouble is my list was impossibly long to start with.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Still, I’ve a few more days to go before it’s back to the grindstone.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Interestingly, it has taken until today to start to truly unwind and enjoy myself.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Enjoy a slower pace, one that gives me time to appreciate everything so much more.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s a good feeling and I’m wondering how I can slow my usual hamster-wheeling lifestyle once I’m back at work.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I shall work on that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">In the meantime I’ve been having fun in the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I came across some rather fancy caterpillars during a weeding session the other day, so of course I took a photo to add to my collection of bugs I’ve met in the great outdoors.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I spared them and their habitat, romantically imagining the three of them turning into beautiful butterflies.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>However, research on the internet told me they are Tenthredo scrophulariae, or meat-eating wasp-like insects.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Blurgh.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No doubt they’re important in nature’s chain but it sure shattered my illusions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Still, if I come across them again I shall let them be (I’m already in deep karma trouble for having squished a legion of snails this week without meaning to and a baby preying mantis, completely intentionally - didn't want to meet up again when it was an adult).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Weather has been strange for this part of the world over the last few days.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So changeable.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Much more like English weather – showers one minute, sun the next, overcast, then another shower.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I like it, although it has made my gardening efforts more sporadic than I had hoped for.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Still, things are coming along but I can’t see me starting on painting the garden walls, wrought iron or even the house, any time soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Busy weekend coming up, with the Hockey Star playing in several matches and the Artist participating in a macro cultural event which will take us into the early hours of Sunday.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m thinking of going along to do a massage and yoga workshop tomorrow but it’s at a huge yoga convention and no doubt there will be people oh, so, naturally wrapping their ankles around their necks, and I can’t even sit cross-legged without a limb going into spasms… <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height:115%;Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">Weather today: Cloudy with sunny intervals or was that sunny with cloudy intervals. Lovely and warm in the sunshine, chilly in the shade. High 19ºC/66ºF, low 11ºC/52ºF. Southeast breeze 12 km/h. Pressure 982 mb and stable. Relative humidity 45%. UV Index 7. Snow level: above 1,600 metres.</span></span></span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-60751685169274721742010-05-10T14:04:00.005+02:002010-05-12T10:44:15.236+02:00Holidays are progressing but progress is slowing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FY3RxMC9EHRncTgi8V12K7MmN-0QCkeMHK72xl8tTpLhy80bfoZOGvpDAYogmX64f9arW85FHU2CGtdRTVw_6JoTy-f1Ma5rpjfzHIDqCpIPp28Ga1c7ka5WzhQvpPQKgmqWiThyaJE/s1600/IMG_3749a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FY3RxMC9EHRncTgi8V12K7MmN-0QCkeMHK72xl8tTpLhy80bfoZOGvpDAYogmX64f9arW85FHU2CGtdRTVw_6JoTy-f1Ma5rpjfzHIDqCpIPp28Ga1c7ka5WzhQvpPQKgmqWiThyaJE/s320/IMG_3749a.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469613338879141554" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">The señor who plastered my garage walls must have been a Christmas cake decorator</span></i></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">DAY TWO - Holidays are progressing but progress is slowing.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Friday or Day Two is spent resolving domestic problems such as microwave which also decides to take a holiday and dies while zapping my morning coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They’ll need 10 days to diagnose the problem.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ten days!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s not heart surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No señora, the repairman says calmly but we have a lot of work on.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Luckily Mini Mama comes with me to help lug microwave into the shop while I double park.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Mini Mama’s laptop charger breaks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Fifty euros lighter and an hour later we resolve this problem.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">On to the highlight of the morning – a visit to Leroy Merlin, your friendly DIY superstore.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I find the excitement overwhelming as I clutch my big plastic bag weighed down with the broken loo seat, strange light bulbs that need replacing, garden hose pipe connection thingamajig and a list of must-have hooks for my gleaming garage and hover at the store entrance.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> My excitement is topped by </span>the alarm I set off as I walk in. The security lady and I dig out contents of handbag including tampax and other embarrassing items on show to the world. Also take out contents of plastic bag including rusty toilet seat. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> Ten minutes later and with nothing to hide I'm let loose. As I stride purposely, list in hand, into the nuts and bolts aisle I feel strangely</span> masculine.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">We have mixed luck (they’re out of loo seats ‘til next week) but manage to get the rest.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m worn out after lunch. Must be a side effect from Day One. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So much so I can’t face a strenuous afternoon up a ladder but at the same time can’t wait to hang something in the garage – anything – it doesn’t matter what. I need to feel I’m progressing. Want to hang the shovel hook so shovel’s not resting on the floor, but can’t find a flat piece of wall.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Garage walls are like Mum’s 60s Christmas cakes when she used to whip up a snowy storm of icing so ferocious the peaks would reach the plastic Santa’s thighs. So move shovel hook down to small flat piece of wall.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Mistake.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Shovel still rests on floor but now won’t fall over.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Give up for the rest of the day, and being Friday afternoon I take myself off to our weekly girls’ Cava Club before The Artist arrives for the weekend to find me alcoholically euphoric yet again.</span></p>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-61816056125199924972010-05-10T12:59:00.004+02:002010-05-10T13:27:30.444+02:00Operation Garage<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIcdiUd7arpTzIgjuoYGO5_Ky6tuID7tw7a-X0OgrRVz15UsKuUb5DukGYo1KANQBry7zXDh4H4L4FoHuJqUo6XO8CVfe3B4_yXzqRBA0k6gpeXlFkJTtDjn53ZYyuMegXgkDtwb30Zw/s1600/IMG_3743.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIcdiUd7arpTzIgjuoYGO5_Ky6tuID7tw7a-X0OgrRVz15UsKuUb5DukGYo1KANQBry7zXDh4H4L4FoHuJqUo6XO8CVfe3B4_yXzqRBA0k6gpeXlFkJTtDjn53ZYyuMegXgkDtwb30Zw/s320/IMG_3743.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469600900152111858" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">Tom oversees Operation Garage </span></i></div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">AT LAST I’m taking a break from work.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Two weeks without going to the office, just pottering around enjoying the house, the garden and the wonderful spring weather. Bliss. I’ve made a list so long - gardening, painting walls, reading, writing, cooking, swimming at the gym, watching telly, chatting to friends, catching up with village gossip in the local shops, tax declaration, err, renegotiating the mortgage – that I’ve become stressed just thinking about it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I think I’m trying to get a life’s retirement plan into two weeks. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Day One dawns in glorious sunshine – so garden wins and once I’ve donned my grubby gear (ancient sequined top - but then you just never know who might pop in) I go off in the direction of the garage to get my tools. Getting in through the garage door, past all the things that have been dumped there for the last six months, takes two hours.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Well, ok, five minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But the scale of the problem is evident.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So garden abandoned and garage becomes the day’s project.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> The freedom of being able to change my mind at a minute's notice from my given plan is not lost on me. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>For 18 years I’ve been meaning to paint the garage interior.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And so I do – more than anything because to achieve any other chores this week I need to get inside and by painting it I get to move the junk for free. Two jobs done for the price of one you might say.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">I’m wary of entering into the depths of the leaking structure I grandly call garage (it started life as the builders’ shed when the house was built 30 years ago and I’m not even sure it has foundations) because it’s deepest, darkest bugsville.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">But I’m lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No snakes, mice or preying mantis materialise.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Just whole families of geckos and hundreds of snails leaving wobbly shiny trails over every surface.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m sure if I stand still long enough they’ll cover me too. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I rescue the ones I see, airlifting them to safety outside in the garden and apologise profusely to the ones I tread on with a sickening crunch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">I take an executive decision and decide that quality control is not coming to inspect the job so I paint around the piles of old tiles and bricks, saved forever for that one just-in-case day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>No one will know except me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">By eight o’clock that night I can't move past my congratulatory beer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It takes all my will power to get into the shower I'm so stiff and sore.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I weigh myself in anticipation of having lost at least three kilos in one day - but scales say I weigh just the same.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not calorie-burning stuff is DIY but definitely satisfying.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> Garage interior now gleaming white with strong chemical smell which I hope will keep bugs at bay. </span>Tomorrow I must hit the DIY store for hooks, pegs and all manner of gizmos to hang things on wall.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p></p>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-12049205777594963202010-04-29T23:43:00.006+02:002010-05-12T10:41:55.707+02:00How to understand European when it is Spike<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HryfowH1b_GLaPv8v6QoK5v3-WjtcdYqhYWHPhTeya8euTauZNahKrmqBMYu4tyogSFbauTmDSlTE4HTAbXaCntGyHWLv6qEWeKnZVqyyXnD6YNP9K7m6Dv4aOsNopYgMUMzhNumVqA/s1600/web+IMG_1096.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HryfowH1b_GLaPv8v6QoK5v3-WjtcdYqhYWHPhTeya8euTauZNahKrmqBMYu4tyogSFbauTmDSlTE4HTAbXaCntGyHWLv6qEWeKnZVqyyXnD6YNP9K7m6Dv4aOsNopYgMUMzhNumVqA/s320/web+IMG_1096.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465680630386233586" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">EUROPEAN isn’t a language yet, but I can’t help thinking that in our company, (Brits, Spaniards and Germans) and in many other businesses that employ workers of different nationalities, it can’t be too long before it becomes one.</div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> There is one rule at work, one linguistic meeting point and that is we should communicate between us in one official language – and being in Spain, it was decided it should be Spanish.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Good move.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Nearly all of us are able to carry out some level of conversation in Spanish and although misunderstandings happen, no one has been fired because they got the wrong end of the stick.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Almost, but not quite. Not yet.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Unofficially,(ie when the boss isn’t around) we lapse into the language which is most comfortable for us, depending on who we’re speaking to (or about) and the subject.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So English to English-speakers, Spanish to Spanish speakers, Spanglish (a mixture of Spanish and English in each sentence) to bilingual colleagues, and Spanish or English to our German colleagues, after we’ve enquired which they prefer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>German has a harder time crossing borders than English or Spanish so only they speak their fine language.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">All this works well when we’re talking.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">But when we get on the computer it becomes a little more challenging.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Programmes are either in Spanish or English.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You get used to it after a while and can forget the language you’re working in.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There’s the odd blip - my Spanish Microsoft Office changes words for you without asking, like the Spike in the title (wrote spoke but there you are, it prefers Spike), but you learn to check your copy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And you get on with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Until that is, you crank up our German-built content management system.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>At some point it was translated into English by German IT chaps, who to be fair probably only speak IT, in any language.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">You know you’re in trouble when the warning messages suddenly appear in German and the computer makes a loud clonk noise (it reminds me of the sub in Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea) to let you, and the rest of the office, know the disdain it feels at being used by such a plonker.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>None of us know why it goes into German, but perhaps it is so annoyed it reverts back to its mother-tongue.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">Yesterday however, it went a step further, bypassing the German and spouting the message in the photo.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Howls of laughter from us. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We’ve stuck it on the pin board in the kitchen along with other gems such as the appetizingly-named Salmon in Swamp Sauce from a local restaurant’s menu.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>(It should be salmon in mushroom sauce).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB">So is your European up to scratch and what in heaven’s name does ‘Exception has been thrown by the target of an invocation’ mean? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Send me a comment if you know…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">Weather today: I'm not sure, it's very dark outside but I'll look again tomorrow.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-91655020300639591882010-03-12T18:52:00.004+01:002010-03-12T19:17:08.110+01:00Speechless and very touched<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUy8vcFne5wsD3bhl0PFskUKrHzSmyil5mTgMJPhoLwYaoej4PJcOgn1UdWaC9DS3EEvp9LtzPcYag5KPaVmx_-9FWeoobnDkp4DZOgc3f_MSBFu53vTy1JC5WN15n4s4JFxk61K38u0o/s1600-h/IMG_0869.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447809821823442354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUy8vcFne5wsD3bhl0PFskUKrHzSmyil5mTgMJPhoLwYaoej4PJcOgn1UdWaC9DS3EEvp9LtzPcYag5KPaVmx_-9FWeoobnDkp4DZOgc3f_MSBFu53vTy1JC5WN15n4s4JFxk61K38u0o/s320/IMG_0869.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>THESE are tough times and sadly because our publication is tightening it's belt (yes, again. We are now sporting a corporate wasp waist) I have had to part company with one of our already sadly depleted staff. The deciding factor in this cost-cutting exercise wasn't based on performance but on who is cheaper to fire. And so I warned my loyal team member to expect the blow and today, sadly, he came in to sign his <em>finiquito.</em></div><div>I've not heard of anyone being given a huge,beautiful bouquet of flowers for sacking someone. Not until today that is. Accompanying the flowers was a note. It said:</div><div></div><br /><div>Thank you for the support and help that you have given to me during our working relationship. Your input, advice and expertise has always been a constant source of inspiration, and on the odd occasion a good old kick up the backside worked wonders too! It has been an absolute pleasure working with you and both D. and I firmly believe that the future holds great things for us all.</div><div>With very best wishes</div><div>Jx</div><br /><div></div><div>Well J. My life is a richer one for knowing you. This is not <em>adios </em>but just <em>hasta luego. </em>You have rendered me speechless and that is quite a feat. </div><div>I'd best be off and find a different ass to kick ;)</div><br /><div></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-28821740437682498412010-03-10T18:17:00.008+01:002010-03-12T18:50:41.303+01:00Rain, rain go away<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WwSHGzr4L9cETGWMGbnciDwHAkTs75T06BlBABAY9XuYQl7_rn_bJMbI7K8xl6zrhF6rSJoVNC-FrtM0mkjwO_fT17VX-lWnmOsvWq7cgedZtVodq7lsYu_wntyaY5PnMu234Wb7jxQ/s1600-h/Derrumbe+Casarabonela+3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447058381304371938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WwSHGzr4L9cETGWMGbnciDwHAkTs75T06BlBABAY9XuYQl7_rn_bJMbI7K8xl6zrhF6rSJoVNC-FrtM0mkjwO_fT17VX-lWnmOsvWq7cgedZtVodq7lsYu_wntyaY5PnMu234Wb7jxQ/s320/Derrumbe+Casarabonela+3.jpg" /></a><em><span style="color:#ff6600;"> Rock fall damage</span></em> </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2YotLzM1VkmEAVoZJu2-9YqjZ_E6twQ9YlThlKv2BXpYc0n_a8wzRxjJb002v7Spo4EGXUcAqwZtQEoxknqjjbMYdllCQwUIuZNpRoLW3yrwJ96vTc8tAeWMVuwe7FN6B_fa7a-L7As/s1600-h/Inundaciones+Tres+Leguas+5.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447057781489234578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA2YotLzM1VkmEAVoZJu2-9YqjZ_E6twQ9YlThlKv2BXpYc0n_a8wzRxjJb002v7Spo4EGXUcAqwZtQEoxknqjjbMYdllCQwUIuZNpRoLW3yrwJ96vTc8tAeWMVuwe7FN6B_fa7a-L7As/s320/Inundaciones+Tres+Leguas+5.jpg" /></a><em><span style="color:#ff6600;"> Police keep an eye on a country road as rising water from a nearby river overflows its banks<br /></span></em><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwamH26qPGD086ZghfsigRdlk2LGN_7EI6MhRw4j-fQcQ8iIZDPJ8Riw4Q9pqpg4SAyh9bQQ4e4hMQbfpc38QHL7hrasncS2jSp7cQOnYEnhuMnkt5Qxe2Qc86j8zgDrlHDS9S22wfl9g/s1600-h/671+Alhaur%C3%ADn+derrumbe+recinto+ferial+por+lluvias.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447057113845908066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwamH26qPGD086ZghfsigRdlk2LGN_7EI6MhRw4j-fQcQ8iIZDPJ8Riw4Q9pqpg4SAyh9bQQ4e4hMQbfpc38QHL7hrasncS2jSp7cQOnYEnhuMnkt5Qxe2Qc86j8zgDrlHDS9S22wfl9g/s320/671+Alhaur%C3%ADn+derrumbe+recinto+ferial+por+lluvias.jpg" /></a> <em><span style="color:#ff6600;">A road subsides after rain washed away the earth below it</span></em></div><br /><p></p><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8C0M1GkVv2BVLNI3yD9UtGtdgakm-lwNTnQr7TkoIM9hmHgDlhyfO_Zw1ClAgraavod4O2OK_lMwwG_hfezLUQbyvZpw9B_4LQS1mzlbeHTl2u8eC53ni2K0w1VPl-M7Zk_ISO2QDXU/s1600-h/s92g1600.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 284px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447056022190450466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8C0M1GkVv2BVLNI3yD9UtGtdgakm-lwNTnQr7TkoIM9hmHgDlhyfO_Zw1ClAgraavod4O2OK_lMwwG_hfezLUQbyvZpw9B_4LQS1mzlbeHTl2u8eC53ni2K0w1VPl-M7Zk_ISO2QDXU/s320/s92g1600.jpg" /></a><span style="color:#ff6600;"><em> Here comes the next </em>borrasca<em>, that fluffy white bit just left of Spain. </em></span><em><span style="color:#ff6600;">Taken by Aemet at 5pm yesterday. Storm came in last night.</span></em></div><br /><br />HOW can it be that me being such a weather <em>friki</em> (Spanish street-speak for freak) I haven't managed to post a single entry about southern Spain's wettest winter since records began. Which, down here on the coast, wasn't actually that long ago, though I have failed to find a record of when they began. If you follow me. Around the mid 1900s I believe.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I haven't written a word - and there has been a huge amount to say - about the <em>trenes de borrascas </em>(low pressure 'trains') that have steamed across the Iberian peninsula from the Atlantic since before Christmas.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">One storm after another, with barely a weak ray of sunshine in between, has made this winter a sodden and, for those who lost loved ones, a tragic one. In Andalucía an elderly Spanish lady died from a heart attack as her house filled with water in January and a British couple was crushed to death recently when the roof of their home fell in on them.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">In a nutshell here are the other sadly eloquent figures:</div><div align="left">150% up on the average rainfall.</div><div align="left">205 million euros of damage to roads alone (no figures in for agriculture or homes yet)</div><div align="left">Serious damage to 107 beaches, from Huelva to Málaga, that will not be repaired before the summer and which will mean loss of income for many already-financially stretched families, over the Easter holidays.</div><div align="left">70 towns and villages flooded at different times.</div><div align="left">700 homes have had to be evacuated - some have been flooded; others have been demolished by landslides or rock falls. And we're still counting...</div><div align="left">2,000 people affected.</div><div align="left">20% more animal deaths.</div><div align="left">965 road cuts</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Sun forecast this weekend. Let's hope it stays next week as well.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-52730695133260455372010-01-30T20:00:00.003+01:002010-01-30T20:11:03.807+01:00Weather today<span style="color:#ff6600;">Weather today: Crystal clear, sunny day with small cumulus clouds scurrying across the sky. Lovely and warm in the sunshine, cold in the shade. High 13ºC/54ºF, low 6ºC/43ºF. North, northwest wind 25 km/h. Pressure 1017 mb. Relative humidity 55%. UV Index 2. Snow level : above 1,100 metres.</span>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-2991279611667013182009-11-06T00:34:00.005+01:002009-11-06T00:47:50.126+01:00Weather today<span style="color:#000000;">After yesterday's touch of the 'verbals' I'm keeping it short today...<br /></span><span style="color:#ff6600;">Weather today: In a nutshell - windy. Temperatures have dropped - whoppeeee, at last.</span><br /><span style="color:#ff6600;">Cloudy start but mostly sunny from mid-morning with a High 17ºC/63ºF Low 11ºC/52ºF. Northeast wind 29km/h (It felt more). Pressure 1018 mb. Relative humidity 61%. UV index: 3.</span>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-32982822862686317572009-11-04T00:12:00.008+01:002009-11-06T00:46:07.697+01:00It's the wisteria way<div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0w9g7iqarykQq-dgzImKKXAQQsrYBufavWcUS0-9dFZaK5qAVq-mNTq1Y7RQnmKghlmpSLydrToNgsZSD7pFbeaZMtXpVpgnUz1Ff7DSQd97isGyqGG2LMjkKQAPWxcCkHrKLygAcy14/s1600-h/wisteraSeedPods_lg.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400019740884850018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0w9g7iqarykQq-dgzImKKXAQQsrYBufavWcUS0-9dFZaK5qAVq-mNTq1Y7RQnmKghlmpSLydrToNgsZSD7pFbeaZMtXpVpgnUz1Ff7DSQd97isGyqGG2LMjkKQAPWxcCkHrKLygAcy14/s320/wisteraSeedPods_lg.jpg" border="0" /></a><em><span style="color:#ff6600;">Before....</span></em></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400020013305446626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1zTMGqhG5dVpZOQMAN56rc8AJiBhO9WnJz69MxyGo6MnUiACi6wGsMO7nDRGmo43E2gPmnck-qF2ft_c-xNIz71ixqsfhalzB3Y_wn2nbDZtMe51z8qfN4XBvMohMnElEsD5ItvZITw/s320/poppedPods_lg.jpg" border="0" /><em><span style="color:#ff6600;">After</span><br /></em><br /><div align="left">LIFE is full of surprises. Like this afternoon. I kept hearing a kind of cracking then stone-pinging noise coming from the terrace. Ting, ping, pang, ching - One, then another, then silence for a while, then another, then two or three. I had to cock my head and tune in to pin down the source. I saw some leaves russle over to my left just as I heard another paaang. It took me a minute or two to work out that the wisteria seed pods were bursting and sending seeds scattering over the ground and the garden. There were so many that you </div><div align="left">couldn’t sit anywhere near the pergola without being hit. A horticultural battle field.<br /><br />The wisteria is eight or nine years old and I’ve never heard it like today – with all the pods bursting one after another.<br /><br />I ventured cautiously out to take a closer look and saw the floor littered with burst pods. Another one cracked almost overhead and sent its seeds flying, and me back to the kitchen. I never knew it was such an explosive affair. So I looked on the internet and came across this enlightening piece at<br /><a href="http://www.mastergardeners.org/publications/wisteria/wisteriaSeedPods.html">http://www.mastergardeners.org/publications/wisteria/wisteriaSeedPods.html</a>.<br /><br /><strong>Popping Wisteria Seeds Pods!<br /></strong>by: Allen Buchinski<br />It’s autumn, and that means my wisteria seeds will soon be popping! If you’ve ever seen this happen, you know exactly what I mean, but if you don’t have wisteria in your yard, it’s likely that you’re not aware of the phenomenon.<br /><a href="http://www.mastergardeners.org/images/import/publications/wisteria/wisteria_seed_pods_files/wisteraSeedPods_lg.jpg"></a>We all know that plants spread their seeds using different mechanisms; some of the most common methods are distribution by wind, water, and animals. But the most fascinating, at least to me, is explosive dispersal, where a seed pod pops open and flings its seeds away from the plant. The evolutionary explanation for this is to prevent overcrowding of seedlings around the parent plant, giving them the light and space they need to mature.The pea-like pods, unremarkable from an ornamental perspective, are often overlooked in a profusion of vigorous leaf growth, especially because they’re green until they mature into 4-6 inch long hard shells. The pods turn brown as they dry on the vine. It’s after that drying process is complete that the fun begins, that and a hot Indian summer day.<br />It’s on those hot days that the seed pods are most likely to explode, typically later in the day after they’ve had a chance to absorb the most heat. If you have patience, you can sit and watch it happen. Look for empty husks where there weren’t any before (next to a lawn or walkway is perfect for this), then sit and watch. In fact, it’s more accurate to say “sit and listen”, because it practically impossible to be watching one when the moment occurs. It’s kind of like listening to the first few kernels of popcorn pop, the noise is a sharp crack followed by the sound of seeds landing away from the plant. If the wisteria is near a building, you can catch the sound of seeds bouncing off windows or walls, when it’s near a driveway or street, you can hear the seeds skitter across the surface.<br />The force of the explosion is truly remarkable; enough so that I don’t look directly at the plant if I’m not wearing glasses. I’ve seen a seed come to rest a full 70 feet from the plant, starting no more than 8’ off the ground and landing in the street (which starts 35’ from the plant), coming to rest against the curb on the far side. It’s exciting to see!<br />So how does it work? Forces build up inside the pod during the drying process, and when strong enough, the pod pops. The best description I’ve seen states: “as a pod dries, tensions are set up in the wall of the pod eventually causing it to split along two lines of weakness. As the two halves curl back, suddenly released like a tense spring, they flick out the seeds inside in an explosive manner.”1<br /><a href="http://www.mastergardeners.org/images/import/publications/wisteria/wisteria_seed_pods_files/poppedPods_lg.jpg"></a>You don’t need a hot day for the process to happen, it’s just that those days speed the drying process. If you take the pods and set them aside to dry, it’s just a matter of time before they pop; inside or out. Or you can speed up the process by putting the pods into the oven. The photo above shows the result of doing just that. The twisted halves of the pod, demonstrating the forces that had built up, are clearly evident. It’s a bit like running a pair of scissors along one side of a ribbon, where the uneven stretching causes the ribbon to twist and curl. In this case it’s the drying causing it to happen.<br />Plants serve all types of purposes. And while food and decoration are the most common, it’s kind of nice to find one that also provides entertainment!<br /><br />He explains it so well, doesn't he? Come spring we should see quite a few offspring. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff6600;">Weather today: Warm, warm, warm. Far too warm for this time of year which is why the wisteria probably went mad. At 11pm this evening it was still a balmy 22ºC - that's 72ºF for you farenheit folk. Officially - Sunny with a High 22ºC/72ºF Low 12ºC/54ºF. Variable breeze 12km/h. Pressure 1015 mb. Relative humidity 46%. UV index: 3 (can still get burnt if you're fair-skinned).</span></div></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-83162245145111756212009-09-12T09:31:00.004+02:002009-09-12T10:00:56.159+02:00Happiness is a spring onion<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11t5t2MrZtINTu0nhTPX1l9HVX8NjYFVvTqkYXKOJwhk8Pbn9zfRFJA8utR3PWXEvOdGDWkX93vFVpNhavLIub9WdbwssIMe1Iabdu3Af6Zu9FKU0qHLblzZsED1ScxwgEB0pt0i1Ko4/s1600-h/IMG_2397+web.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380486489651811922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 296px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11t5t2MrZtINTu0nhTPX1l9HVX8NjYFVvTqkYXKOJwhk8Pbn9zfRFJA8utR3PWXEvOdGDWkX93vFVpNhavLIub9WdbwssIMe1Iabdu3Af6Zu9FKU0qHLblzZsED1ScxwgEB0pt0i1Ko4/s320/IMG_2397+web.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>THIS could be hard to explain, but if you have lived in a foreign country you’ll know just how much people miss their home comforts.<br /><br />Expats, when asked what they miss about home, always say (first, and with some resignation), family. It is, after all the expected reply. Then they say friends, and lastly they’ll reel off a short list, at great speed and with gathering enthusiasm, of their favourite food. Their eyes glaze over as they relive those sublime moments when they last bit into a freshly grilled Cumberland sausage or crunched the batter on cod ‘n’ vinegar-soaked chips.<br /><br />It’s an age-old formula. And it’s true of any nation.<br /><br />News had reached me that a large supermarket, stocked to the brim with British goodies, had opened nearby. I hadn’t been enticed. These places usually have the stock selection of Marmite, Cook-in-Sauces and Heinz soups. I can live without those. But a recent, long-overdue lunch invitation to my Spanish ‘in-laws’, (known in Spanish as <em>familia politica</em> which sums it up in a nutshell) sent me off in search of exotic <em>guiri</em> foodstuffs to knock their socks off.<br /><br />I took The Artist with me to keep me in check. Our first trip to this temple of Britishness was surreal. Aisle after aisle full of expats happily torn between so much choice.<br />It’s sad I know, but I’ve waited almost 30 years to be able to buy spring onions in Spain and here I was living the moment. After that it just got better and better. Cheshire cheese, fruity herbal teas, sickly ice-cream soda, ginger beer! We came away laden down, me feeling hugely comforted by all these long-lost familiar ‘friends’and The Artist wondering whether he should get a Spanish girlfriend.<br /><br />Yesterday I returned and in anticipation pushed the door open, ready to pounce again on the spring onions. It was then I noticed stacks and stacks of fresh eggs. Imported from the UK. I stood there for a minute trying to work out the logic of importing fragile eggs all the way from Britain when there are chickens just around the corner. But I couldn’t.<br /><br />In fact, there were quite a few things that could be easily bought at Spanish supermarkets at a lower price but everyone is free to spend their money how they like. I’m not sure whether the cats here can appreciate the difference between Spanish cat food and imported Whiskas but it is on offer all the same.<br /><br />I started to hone in on other incongruent items. Trawling the massive freezer section I came across the winner. Frozen vegetable and chorizo kebabs. Chorizo that had been made in Spain, of course. Shipped to the UK. Strung on a stick with veggies. Frozen, and shipped back to Spain to a British supermarket to be devoured by Brits, living in Spain. I’m still trying to figure this out, but coals to Newcastle is a phrase that keeps coming in to my head.<br /><br />Still, I wish the supermarket a long and very successful life, which judging by the hordes of hungry Britons there yesterday, is almost guaranteed. We may be in the middle of a recession, but who can resist a little of what they fancy, from time to time.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff9900;">Weather today: It's very early so it's hazy but the sun is up and it will probably be a glorious cloudless day. The rain in Spain is definitely staying on the plain today and forecast to miss the coast. High 29ºC/83ºF Low 19ºC/66ºF. Barely noticeable breeze 7km/h. Pressure 1014 mb. Relative humidity 58%. UV index: 7.</span></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600464922763201093.post-34437094073767757032009-09-10T16:53:00.005+02:002009-09-10T17:27:38.817+02:00Summer is coming to an end...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3H25jHlkyjJGUsAhdKp7mLUhdb8kMpLoyW-FxI6ApXcoTd_8UF5LPo1eyN-u5sBmc-sktUBMPuSd9JB-n1do4GchBT2F0zQneEfXWn3pDj1Yt18A_piLA03rXhIzz1Ekjy5wB7_Or60E/s1600-h/ramblas.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379855432044037378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 262px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3H25jHlkyjJGUsAhdKp7mLUhdb8kMpLoyW-FxI6ApXcoTd_8UF5LPo1eyN-u5sBmc-sktUBMPuSd9JB-n1do4GchBT2F0zQneEfXWn3pDj1Yt18A_piLA03rXhIzz1Ekjy5wB7_Or60E/s320/ramblas.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#ff9900;"><em> Who would have thought that an ice cream or two could do this to a girl?</em></span> <div align="left"><br />SUMMER is just a terrible time to diet. When you're not downing the G&Ts then you're having a congratulatory beer (reasons are varied: Mowed the lawn; It's the weekend; Just because etc). Alcohol makes me hungry. Hungry for carbs not lettuce. It's pretty much a chain reaction. Alcohol=carbohydrates=another kilo on the hips/waist/tummy/dinner-lady-arms. That's not to mention the ice creams, the long fried fish lunches on the beach, toes dug deep into the cool sand while you wipe the garlic sauce from the plate with French bread (sigh)...</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">And so to the groaning scales I go, to confirm what I already knew. My weight has gone up and I need a plan with military precision and determination, not to mention discipline if I am to succeed. I've had a week of mentally acclimatising myself (no weight loss though) and next week I shall go to the sports centre to see if my beloved Aquagym classes are back. Tragically this may not be enough and I could have to bare flesh in the proper gym. Will my fellow 'gymnasts' be able to cope. We shall see.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Soo, what do you think about the video below eh? Impressive? I'm quite chuffed. I've been trying to figure out for months how to put a video on my blog. And today I've finally worked it out. Not bad for a blonde. Now I have to see if I can post one of my own videos rather than one off internet.<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff9900;">Weather today: Overcast and muggy although this evening's a tad less humid and the sun is out. High 29ºC/83ºF Low 19ºC/66ºF. Despite the clouds, zilch chance of rain. Light southerly wind 11km/h. Pressure 1015 mb. Relative humidity 49% (Find that hard to believe). UV index: 7. </span></div><br /><br /></div>Nena del Surhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12532058413978673992noreply@blogger.com