Itchy feet at forty

All posts ...

2012-01-05T18:56:00.000+01:00

...... over here now

Happy new year people

(Cider with) Old Rosie

2011-12-06T06:14:00.015+01:00

So much for my nostalgic looks back over the previous ten years. Nothing like saying you will do something and then totally failing. Not just on this blog but on every single one. Oh well there is always December and at least it will avoid writing about Christmas.

And now for something completely different.

A couple of months ago as summer was slowly coming to its hot sunny end, I was leaving Morrisons with the Sunday shop.

As I walked across the car park, an image of a cool, dry, slightly sparkling glass of cider came into my head. I blame it on someone who shall be nameless and who has been prattling on about some trendy designer cider called Jaques.

Anyway I had no intention of walking back inside the shop again, one ordeal a day is more than enough so I wandered back home.

Whereupon I endlessly bleated about this totally irrational desire for a cider (which I have not drunk in like a zillion years) until patient and long-suffering Partner volunteered to traipse off to pesky Morrisons to search for that must-have cider.

There was a three for a fiver deal so he came back with a selection. Westons organic cider and Old Rosie, and Henney's Frome Valley dry cider.

First, Old Rosie. It is utterly delicious. Dry, appley, slightly sparkly and slightly cloudy. So moreish. Also 7.3% proof so not too many more of them. Westons web site describes it as medium dry (even though the bottle calls it dry) and lightly carbonated. You get the idea.

Westons organic - now rebadged as Wyld Wood (6.5%), and the Henney's (6%) are a drinkable alternative when there is no Old Rosie. As is Thatcher's Katy (also strong at 7.4%). Katy is another one described as medium dry, but if I can drink it, that means it is dry enough. Another nice appley flavour. The good thing about all of them is that, apart from the obligatory sulphites that you can't get away from these days, they only seem to contain apples. Unlike the bog standard and somewhat cheaper ciders.

Westons and Henney's are made in Herefordshire and Thatchers is based in Somerset.

A couple of riveting cider facts. The UK, according to wiki, has the highest consumption of cider per head, and the biggest cider-producing companies in the world. I don't really know people who drink cider, so I was quite surprised at that. In EU terms we produce more than 60% of cider within the EU, and traditional ciders in Gloucestershire, Herefordshire and Worcestershire have been awarded a special EU status - PGI, Protected Geographical Indication. Sounds a bit like not being able to call fizzy wine champagne when it isn't made in the Champagne department of France.

What else about cider? Oh yes, I had been drinking the delicious Old Rosie for some weeks when I suddenly remembered the Laurie Lee book Cider with Rosie (my review here).

What a clever name for the cider, I thought to my little self. Except it is nothing to do with the book apparently, but named after a 1921 steam engine that the firm bought - and there is a picture on the bottle too.

But, if the cider was introduced in 1988 .... maybe it was named after the book ??

Finally Spanish cider. On which there is very little to say except it is made in the north of Spain and isn't a patch on Old Rosie, or indeed any of the others I have mentioned above.

Oh and I haven't tried the Jacques cider. It is expensive, and looking at the website it seems you need to be young and blond and wear pink floaty frocks to drink it. I don't think that is quite me.

Editors note: Totally sick of Blogger still being a pain so unlikely to post more on here. Catch me on my wordpress roughseas blog.

Boy's Own adventure stories

2011-11-07T12:36:00.007+01:00

I am not a fan of these type of gung-ho books.

You know the sort, where there is a tall, dark, not quite handsome, but definitely rugged hero. He invariably has piercing blue or green eyes. When he is not shooting the shit out of the baddies, he is totally irresistible to any woman within at least a 20 mile radius. He has a dry, slightly sarcastic sense of humour. He is of course mentally intelligent and physically superfit. He is moral (ish) but not to the extent that it stops him killing the baddies.

He also performs the impossible, managing to get out of the most unbelievable predicaments.

But while this sort of tale may not be my book of choice for a Sunday's (or any other day's) read, I don't turn my nose up at free books.

Our neighbour is in some informal book exchange circuit and readily passes them onto us. Saves leaving them on a bench outside, especially when it might rain.

So it was from him that we finally encountered Clive Cussler and the redoubtable Dirk Pitt (six foot something, opaline green eyes, etc etc etc).

The plots follow the same formula, ie there is always lost treasure to start off the novel and in the opening chapter(s), we hear about how it gets lost. Then, we come right back to the present day and our American clean cut super-hero appears, to sort out the baddies, romance (aka shag) at least one woman, and natch, find the treasure from hundreds or thousands of years ago.

At 600 pages or so per novel, they at least entertain me for a couple of days, or more when I have distractions from reading.

Treasure was the first one we read, and it was a good yarn. Sahara was another good one.

Next we got a copy of Chris Ryan's The Increment.

Like Cussler, Ryan is ex-services. However Cussler is ex American Air Force, and Ryan is ex SAS. And there is a world of difference in their novels.

Like a lot of British authors, Ryan seems to imbue a sense of bleakness and harsh realism into his tales. However fantastic (or not, I have no idea) his stories may be, there is no happily ever after. Yes, the hero comes through in the end, but there is always a price to be paid by someone, and not just the baddies. And any humour in his novels is invariably black.

The Increment is a good action-packed tale. Ex-SAS man has his arm twisted to do one last undercover mission etc etc. It was good enough for me to raid the library for more novels but sadly they don't seem to have as many Ryans as they do Cusslers. I did get my hands on The Watchman which is a tale of MI5 plans to infiltrate the IRA. Excellent read.

Co-incidentally I noticed a book crossing stall in The Piazza on Saturday, and there are now four local places to leave and collect books. The only one I can remember on the list however, is Sacarello's in Irish Town. So if you don't exchange books informally with friends and work colleagues, there are now places to book cross here in Gib.

Of course you could always join the library, based in John Mack Hall in Main Street.

Is it really ten years?

2011-11-01T09:14:00.001+01:00

This month marks the tenth anniversary of my departure from the UK.

That sounds slightly pretentious but I really can't think of a better way to describe it.

So for most of November, I will be looking back over the last ten years, and musing on life, both on here and on Clouds. I may even write some more 'trip' posts on the Landy blog.

For those of you who are newer readers, I wrote somewhere back that the idea of this blog - and the title - was to write about the somewhat momentous things that seem to happen when you reach forty.

Or maybe because I got appallingly drunk on the delicious Agua de Valencia, that getting to forty took on a disproportionate effect on my life.

Either way you look at it though, forty is pretty much a half way mark, more or less, depending on what fate has in store for you.

But I never did write that many posts about Momentous Issues. This blog quickly became a sort of reportage. Life in Spain - hopefully giving people an insight, and passing on tips. Such as do make sure you have surge protectors. Apart from triple, and quadruple checking everything before you buy a house, making sure you have surge protectors is the next best piece of advice I can offer. And then I added Gib onto the mix.

Itchy Feet became sort of a diary (although not a daily one). Pretty much what a blog was originally meant to be. The thoughtful (?) posts appeared on Clouds.

So now, 'normal' posts are continuing over at my new blog. Yes. Another blog. But not with a different theme, I'm just really really fed up with blogger. I made the mistake of hitting on the 'try the new template' thing, and when I went back to what should have been the old version, it didn't go back to what was. So I am sick of the tiny fonts, the skewed paragraphs, the unchangeable justification, and basically most of it making blogging more difficult than it should be.

I have tried wordpress before and quite frankly, thought it was terrible. Back when you could happily fiddle with blogger templates, and customise it happily, and it did what you wanted, wordpress was limited and offered little for me.

It is still limited in that you can't mess around with the templates - unless you want to pay!!!!! - but there are well over a hundred to choose from, so even Ms Picky managed to find something.

Pictures load individually, but quickly. If you like messing with HTML on the actual posts, it is pretty clear and simple (unlike blogger now for me). Anyway, it's always good to keep changing.

So dear readers, if you wish to keep up with my riveting life, critical book reviews, and vegetarian recipes, please bookmark roughseasinthemed.wordpress.com.

Southport Ditch

2011-10-09T11:17:00.014+02:00

For a place that is less than three square miles in total area, the amount of traffic in Gibraltar is, at times, unbelievable.

Being a city it suffers from the usual city syndrome with everyone rushing to work in their car, dropping off the kids on the school run by car (often a 4x4), and doing the supermarket run - by car of course. Not to mention all the people who come in from Spain in their car.

This, in spite of the regular and free bus services that cover most of the Rock.

And while a lot of the newer buildings have car parking underneath, many of us live in older blocks and have to find a space where we can. It doesn't take a Nobel Prize winner to work out that when there are blocks of flats on each side of the street, and only parking on one side of the narrow streets, there aren't going to be enough spaces for all the flat dwellers to park their vehicle outside their home.

But there are free car parks within about ten minutes walk, and that's where most of us who live in town park. Spaces are usually available early morning and evenings - but during the day, it can involve driving around the car park endlessly or just sitting and waiting for someone to leave.

Earlier this year we noticed a flurry of activity going on at the old Public Works Department down Ragged Staff Road. It was being demolished big time.

The Gib rumour machine swung into action. Yet more expensive apartment buildings. A car park. We asked someone who works at one of the car parks but they didn't know anything about it.

But the car park rumour was right. It seems Gib is moving into pay and display car parks with maximum lengths of stay. So it's obviously aimed at tourists and cross-border workers.

It's not open yet, so I took some pix before it gets full of cars. The dark ones were taken on normal setting and reflect the actual lighting at the time, and lighter ones were on a night time setting and compensate for the dark by lightening up the pix.

I think the Gib goverment makes some pretty crap decisions regarding development in a lot of cases, and I find a lot of the new build ugly beyond belief and totally out of proportion for such a tiny place. But I think they have made a tidy job of this car park and I love the restoration work on the old tunnel. My first fears were that they would be knocking it down, but I see a new information sign has been placed at the top of the pedestrian stairs telling us all about Southport Ditch. Of which more later when I have chance to read it.

Some salad suggestions

2011-10-08T19:06:00.011+02:00

In Spain, we always have a daily salad. It doesn't matter whether it is a light one in the evening, or a large one for our main meal at lunchtime.

I've always been a huge salad lover. When I was a kid I would love preparing salads for my parents, and we would sit down to a table spread with lots of different help-yourself salads.

There was a green salad, usually with lots of watercress. Some type of tomato salad. Beetroot salad, baby ones from a jar. A vegetable salad - say blanched cauliflower, or courgette, and grated carrot. If I did egg mayonnaise, which my father claimed not to like, more than half of it ended up on his plate. Just, whatever we had in and invariably served with some tiny new potatoes in their skins.

Now a word on lettuce. I really loathe iceberg lettuce. It is totally bland and tasteless and invariably seems to be packaged in clingfilm and lies on shelves for ages. Oddly enough, it is the lettuce of choice where I live in Andalucia. So when my neighbour prepares a salad for me, that's what she uses. I've wondered if it is because it is water retentive, or that Andalucians have strange tastebuds, maybe because lots of them used to/still do smoke. Romaine lettuce isn't much better. When I was a kid it was called cos. I don't know why it was renamed but in the identity change I think it lost some of its taste.

Back in the UK, I used to grow lettuce, mizuna and rocket. In Spain, I can grow rocket, and whatever other lettuce condescends to germinate. Not much at the moment sadly although the rocket is going/growing strong. My neighbours think I am slightly odd for growing rocket as it grows wild around where we live and they clearly think it is too bitter.

The lettuce, when it grows in Spain is, four seasons, escarole, and something to do with May. I also grow baby spinach/spinach beet. So with a few leaves of all that lot, I usually have enough to put in a salad.

But when fresh greens aren't around, the basis for the salad is one of those plastic bags of greens from the supermarket. It means you can get variety, and to be honest, I think the choice of green mixtures is pretty good.

Other standbys for salad tend to be tinned sweetcorn (make - Bonduelle, maiz dulce, no sugar added), capers, olives, and occasionally, some bought cooked beetroot. I love raw grated beetroot but it takes ages to use up a whole bunch. One of the home-made salad ingredients I tend to keep in all the time is pickled onion. Not the nice tiny round ones pickled in malt vinegar that take ages before they are ready to eat, but finely sliced onion kept in wine vinegar for a few hours, preferably overnight. If you are a pickle addict, it's worth adding cucumber too.

For most salads, I try and add a 'main' feature to ring the changes. If you were a meat eater, I guess you would add chicken, or cold meats, or fish, or seafood or whatever. In our case, I use:

fresh asparagus, preferably from as local a source as possible, I stick to Spanish asparagus
fresh artichoke hearts (I've tried the tinned ones and I'm not too keen on those)
fresh broad beans
beans or chick peas, ie legumes
and occasionally mozzarella, if it is suitable for vegetarians, in Spain, Galbani from Supersol claims to tick the box

Everything is usually cloaked in the mustard dressing that I've posted for the artichoke salad earlier.

So the photos show two different salads.

The chickpea one also has artichokes!! Must have gone over the top there. Fresh peppers, beetroot, a bag of salad and grated carrot. Grated carrot is a good one I think, one small carrot will serve for two people but adds so much extra taste. The pickled onion rings I mentioned above and some baby spinach on the top came out of the garden.

Chick peas, haricot beans, butter beans are all great in salads. Cook extra in the pressure cooker when you want to do a casserole, store the rest in the fridge and you have a main salad dish to hand. Easy.

The mozzarella salad was a classic mozzarella, tomato, capers, olive oil and salt serving. The rest of the salad was what I had in the fridge/store cupboard, because the pesky supermarket didn't have a bag of salad and I only had a tiny amount of leaves in the garden. To which I added sweetcorn, onion, beetroot and carrot. I guess it lacked basil, but it was good enough.

Overall cost of meals? Pretty cheap. The Galbani mozzarella is around €2 a bag, and I don't use it all for one meal. The sweetcorn is €2 for three small tins (sometimes it is on offer) and I use less than a tin for one meal. Cooked beetroot is around 80 cents I think and again, not all used at once. A bag of salad is roughly a euro, and I will use it for two separate meals. Carrot, tomato, capers, chick peas, olives, onion - negligible.

The same salad out? Min €5, more like €7.50. One reason why we don't eat out.

Chick pea and artichoke salad - and - a glass of water??

Yummy artichokes

Mozzarella salad with - wine vinegar and tabasco of course

Mushroom pate

2011-10-04T11:02:00.005+02:00

I bought a box of organic chestnut mushrooms and every time I looked at them they spoke to me saying 'mushroom pate'.

So I looked up endless recipes on the internet and they all seemed to be basically the same.

Chop onions, mushrooms and garlic, and saute gently in olive oil and/or butter.

Which I did. Add salt, pepper and herb(s) of choice. I had fresh thyme which I thought would be good. One recipe suggested tarragon which I think would also be nice.

Add white wine or dry sherry or any other alcohol of choice, and reduce.

And that's it. When it's cool blend it. Some recipes suggested serving it warm which I thought was not a good idea. If I want warm mushrooms, they need to be sliced with onions, white wine and parsley.

So chill the pate for a short while before you dish it up, serve it.

Now, I did read about other stuff you can add - cream cheese, cream, yoghurt etc. I didn't really fancy any of those, but I can imagine cream cheese might make an interesting addition, especially for texture/consistency.

I used half a pound of mushrooms and there was loads, and I mean, loads, of pate. Plus, half a large onion/one small one, and one or more cloves of garlic. Two greedy people managed a huge supper and a huge brunch out of it.

Using half the amount of mushrooms would still provide an ample helping. I'm also thinking of adding some black olives to the next version. Didn't see any recipes including those, but I think it would be a good addition for both taste and texture.

Incidentally, serve with lots of fresh lemon, it really needs the lemon to provide that sharp contrast.

Gibraltar - a few facts

2011-10-01T15:12:00.012+02:00

And following on from National Day, a few Gibfacts, for those of you who wonder where on earth it is and what life is like here.

Basics

First up - where it is. It's on the tip of the Iberian Peninsula and juts out dramatically into the Mediterranean. It is NOT an island, although is often mistakenly referred to as one. It's an easy mistake to make, I know, I've done it even while living here, as - with the exception of the frontier with Spain - it is surrounded by water.

View of Gibraltar (and in the distance, Africa) from El Higueron in Spain

The very southernmost tip of Gibraltar, Europa Point, looks across the Strait of Gibraltar 20 miles away to Africa, and on clear days the Spanish enclave of Ceuta can be clearly seen, and behind, the high Rif mountains in Morocco.

Lighthouse at Europa Point

Gib is small, nearly three miles long, less than a mile wide, total area being around two and a quarter square miles. Most of the 30,000 population live in the lower part of Gibraltar on the western side. As such, that makes us one of the most densely populated territories in the world - and that's why nearly all of us live in small flats.

Taken from Insight magazine - reclamation on the western side to provide more housing

What is it? It is currently a British Overseas Territory and part of the Commonwealth, previously a Crown Colony and part of the British Empire. We have a Governor who is the Queen's representative.

Gib has its own government which is responsible for everything except defence and foreign policy - they fall to the British. Our government is elected every four years (or less) and the current party in power is the Gibraltar Social Democrats (GSD). Despite the name it is the right of centre option and is led by Chief Minister Peter Caruana.

History

A little bit of potted history next. Hundreds of thousands of years ago it actually was an island, and at another point it was also connected to Africa.

Modern day Gibraltar really started when the Moors took Gibraltar in 711AD under the leadership of Berber chief, Tarik-ibn-Ziyad. The Rock became known as Jebel Tarik (Mountain of Tarik) which led to the present name of Gibraltar.

Today's obvious remains of the Moorish past are the castle on the hill - the Moorish Castle or Tower of Homage, and the beautiful baths under the present museum.

Moorish Castle

Four hundred years later the Spaniards and Muslims were fighting it out in Spain, and Gibraltar passed backwards and forwards between the two. But by 1462 Gib was retaken by Spain and became part of the estates of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. The Catholic Monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, completed the reconquest of Spain when they retook Granada in 1492, and in December 1501, Gibraltar became Spanish crown property.

Some 200 years later - 1704 - Gibraltar was taken from the Spanish by an Anglo-Dutch force fighting in the War of Spanish Succession, and, has been British ever since. Not that British sovereignty has stopped Spain claiming Gib.

In 1713, Spain ceded Gibraltar to Britain in perpetuity, yet in 1727 the Spaniards besieged the Rock, but this was a relatively short siege, ending the same year.

In 1779, the Spaniards and the French joined forces and started the Great Siege which lasted for nearly four years and led to the huge development of the tunnel network within the Rock. Finally, in 1784 the war with Spain ended and the Treaty of Versailles was signed.

Moving swiftly forward to the 1960s and Franco. The subject of Gibraltar's decolonisation was put before a United Nations committee, which favoured the Spanish point of view. Spain started imposing restrictions at the frontier and it was fully closed in 1969. Franco cut off access by land and sea, and the only external communications were by air with London or by sea to Morocco. Telephone communications were also cut by Spain.

Although Franco died in 1975, the border remained closed until December 1982, when it was finally reopened for pedestrians. It was another two years however, before open access across the frontier was fully restored.

People

So - present day Gib. Who lives in it? Well, Gibraltarians obviously, but also lots of other nationalities. The Gibraltarian heritage is a mix of Genovese, Maltese, Portuguese, British, Spanish, and Jewish. Walking down the street however, or going to work, you will meet Indians, Moroccans, Eastern Europeans, even the odd few South Africans and Australians. Culturally and demographically Gib is an eclectic mixture.

Reflecting the diversity of people living here, there is the same broad range of religions represented in Gib. The predominant one is Roman Catholic, and other Christian denominations are present. Other religions include Judaism, Islam and Hinduism.

The official language here is English, but on the streets you will most likely hear Gibraltarians speaking Llanito which is the local language. Llanito is largely Andalucian Spanish, but includes English words, and words from other languages reflecting Gibraltar's multi-racial heritage. People will happily switch between Llanito, English and Spanish within the same conversation - and even the same sentence.

Oddly enough, although Gibraltarians are fluent Spanish speakers, this doesn't extend to reading and writing. Some do read Spanish, but most of our Gibraltarian friends don't, and they certainly don't write in Spanish.

On the topic of speaking Spanish - you don't need it to live here, but it helps if you do. Apart from the fact that you can understand if someone is being rude about you, there are a lot of cross-border workers who come across from Spain every day, a lot of whom speak little, or no English. British cross-border workers who live in Spain come to work in Gib too.

Economy

Our currency is Gibraltar pounds. English currency is acceptable here and the rate of exchange is one Gib pound to one English pound. Shops and bars will accept euros - but note that it is a vastly inflated exchange rate.

Wages in Gibraltar are higher than they are in Spain (not that they are high here compared with the UK), and the current economic situation in Spain has left a lot of people unemployed. There are still jobs in Gibraltar, not that I can find one, well, not one that suits.

Tourism plays a large part in the Gibraltar economy, with cruise liners regularly stopping here - sometimes three in one day. When this happens you need to hide inside because you can't move down Main Street for tourists looking for duty free bargains - especially spirits, tobacco, and perfume.

Most of the shops in Gib are down Main Street, the side streets that run off it, or the ones that run parallel to it - to the west, Irish Town, and to the east, Engineers Lane/Governors Street.

We have some supermarkets, the Spanish franchise Coviran has branches here (Devils Tower, Waterport and Jumpers), and our biggest supermarket is Morrisons. Morrisons is something of a Mecca for ex-pats living in Andalucia and there are regular bus trips down the coast for people to shop in a Real! British! Supermarket! They invariably arrive on a Thursday which is probably the best day of the week to visit for a good choice of products. By the weekend the shelves are looking rather sad and empty, and on Monday and Tuesday, we are all waiting for the trucks to unload their goodies and for the shelves to be stocked back up again.

Unless I am buying organic veg, I tend to use my local Coviran, Moroccan or Jewish shops for fresh vegetables. For a change there is the market which is open from Monday to Saturday in the mornings.

Opening hours for shops and offices in Gib are something else again. For another post.

The Upper Rock - and the monkeys

Now when our tourists have finished buying their perfume, fags and booze, they then go up to the top of the Rock to see the monkeys. Either in the cable car or by taxi although a few intrepid souls do walk it.

The upper rock is a nature reserve, and is home to some unique flora and fauna in Europe. Barbary Macaques - the famous monkeys, Barbary partridge, Gibraltar candytuft, campion, and chickweed, are only found in Europe on the Rock. There are other attractions too, St Michael's Cave, the World War II Tunnels, geocaches, lots of different walks and wonderful views. Unmissable.

Barbary Macaque takes a trip downtown.

More info about Gib on the sites below. I'll post other Gibfacts later.

Gibraltar Ornithological and Natural History Society

Gibraltar History and Politics

Government of Gibraltar Information Services - links for history, heritage, geography, flora and fauna amongst others

Finca project - the kitchen

2011-09-28T16:16:00.021+02:00

Regular riveted readers may still be aware of the tortuous ongoing project of revamping the finca.

With the sitting room and dining room completed earlier - and that was probably the worst half of the house - I said the next room to do was the kitchen.

When I said 'do', I didn't actually mean finish it, and make it into a perfect kitchen. Oh no. What I meant was paint it so that it looked presentable, rather than looking dusty and dirty as it had suddenly become.

When we first bought the finca many years ago, the kitchen, was well, basic. There were cracked white tiles from floor to ceiling around the sink and cooker area and not much else. There still isn't much else, but at least we got rid of the cracked white tiles.

We also got rid of the nice white sink that was - natch - cracked, and full of ants. The cooker didn't last long either, one of the burners was dodgy so it went out. The cooker, not just the burner. We have bottled gas in our village, and the idea of a dodgy burner and a full bottle of butano is no fun at all.

Once the tiles were gone, the walls were re-rendered. I say this as though it took no time at all. It took months of course. What took even longer was choosing tiles. Tiles, it seemed, had become computer generated. Or at least the design had, and, there were irritating little pixels all over the place. Probably ok if you are not short-sighted, but I needed to find the least irritating design without pesky pixels.

Eventually I found some and they were duly applied. The golden rule in our village is tiles should be a metre high to prevent the damp sucking through the soft stone that our houses are built from. We stuck an extra layer of tile above the metre rule, plus the border tile on top of that.

Because tile adhesive is expensive, the way to tile in our village is to stick a blob of adhesive on each corner, and if they are feeling flush, possibly one in the middle. This is NOT a good idea. Do you know what can lurk in those nice gaps between the tiles and the wall? Yes. Dear little, and not so little, cockroaches. We knew an English couple who had a bar (don't they all?) and when they retiled the kitchen in the bar, the walls were full of cockroaches happily nesting behind the tiles in the lovely gaps. Just cover the tiles with adhesive, people. Unless you want a cockroach sanctuary of course.

Tiles are expensive. Paying someone to put them would be even worse, fortunately I didn't have to do that. But, I actually reckon they are a good investment. 1) blocks the damp problem 2) Incredibly easy to clean 3) They don't need replacing as often as the walls need painting.

Onto the work. The walls above the tiles had been filled when we were attacking the dining room, so that was part of the prep done. I washed the tops of the border tiles down to remove the dust so we could cover them with masking tape. Same with the light fittings.

Next, all the pans came down to be washed and stored in the dining room while the walls were painted. We sheeted up and brushed the dust off the walls.

Then, a coat of Benjamin Moore white paint. It covered so well, that apart from touching up a couple of pan marks, we decided one coat was enough - the other two rooms all needed two, plus stain stop. Our fastest job to date. Done in a day. Dust sheets removed and pans back on the wall.

It was a bit of a shock when all the other jobs have taken weeks. So - next - the bedroom. Another long job, and we will probably move into the back house to sleep so that we can work more easily.

Anyway, some comments about my minimalist kitchen.

First up, the fridge is Fagor, a Spanish company and is excellent. We bought it from the shop down the road that sells seconds. They don't deliver so we had to take it home and wait 48 hours for it to settle. It had a couple of dents in the side. So did our AEG in the UK for which we got £40 off when it was delivered less than perfectly.

I can live with cheap and less than perfect these days. We still get the two year guarantee. So why pay more??

Table with rather rusty legs and corner cabinet are both IKEA from many years ago. Legs on table may get sprayed. Corner thing was actually part of an office suite but it serves for a good spice shelf.

Plastic chairs came from my mum and dad's since the pine ones got moved to the dining room.

Oh, the sink. Yeah, we'll get one of those white ceramic things one day. But for now it's a red plastic bowl stuck on top of a Black and Decker workmate. It works well enough, so, no rush. We chuck the water out on the street. Hopefully missing our neighbours.

Filled walls, pans already down

Lots of pans to take down and wash, more filler on top left

Copper engraved prints to take down, light fittings washed off

Sheeted up - but don't disturb Pippa

Pans already back in place - and gleaming clean

And round to the fridge, chattering away in the corner to itself

Yet more clean pans, painting, engravings - all back

Door still needs painting, solid wood, originally from our neighbours

Also, note the feature stone arch above the doorway

Always need a food piccy. Mozzarella and tomato salad with capers

Recipe to follow

Gibraltar National Day 2011

2011-09-10T15:44:00.045+02:00

Well, it's that time of year in Gibraltar when, if, you aren't wearing red and white that you look rather odd.

Red and white are the Gib colours and today is National Day. It is party, party, party from first thing to early tomorrow morning. Not for oldies like us of course.

What to wear? Well, courtesy of The Paint Shop in Europort we had acquired two new free red T-shirts. Very good. I had - too late - searched the shops for some new white shorts and failed miserably.

I went out this morning and decided it was TOO HOT for trousers. I glared at my offending creamy white ones and decided to turn them into shorts. Have scissors, needle and white cotton - will make shorts.

Partner skulked off for a couple of hours work but came back before the big hour at 1pm wearing his Gib T-shirt. We were set to go.

Long trousers.

And now made into shorts.

And free T-shirt.

There I am..

Partying on in the car park.

And in King's Bastion.

Now, can we sneak in here? Unlikely.

How about this side?

Oh, yes, there is someone with a Paint Shop T-shirt - I know him!!

Party party party

Listening to the mayor's speech - Kaiane Aldorino was given the freedom of the city for her achievement in winning Miss World.

Releasing the balloons at 1pm. The 30,000 red and white balloons represent our population.

And - here is the declaration that we all listened to just before 1pm.

On this, our National Day, we, the People of Gibraltar, here gathered as a community:

1. Remember and celebrate past generations of Gibraltarians and others, who, by their efforts, sacrifices and determination made today's Gibraltar possible;

2. Celebrate and honour our country as a success, and the community that flourishes within it, and we express firm resolution to resist and overcome the challenges that we may face in the future, as all previous generations have done;

3. Declare our enduring commitment to a society based on, and upholding the highest principles of human rights, democracy and social justice;

4. Express our collective solidarity with those people in our community, and outside Gibraltar, who are economically, socially or personally vulnerable and in need of support;

5. Declare our openness to friendly relations and cooperation on the basis of mutual respect with all countries and peoples that share or respect our values as a community;

6. Acknowledge our obligation to future generations of Gibraltarians to care for our environment, and to assure the political, social and economic prosperity and success of Gibraltar in the future;

7. Celebrate inalienable right as a people to determine the future of Gibraltar, our homeland, in accordance only with our wishes, rights and aspirations;

And finally, on this, Gibraltar National Day, we send greetings to all Gibraltarians around the world, and we greet and thank all friends of Gibraltar in Britain and elsewhere.

And - when he got to number five - the woman next to us said - except for Spain. Because, she is right. Hands off Spain. Just lay off with your claim to Gibraltar. If Gibraltarians wanted to be Spanish they would have voted for that and they would have Spanish flags all over the place today. They don't. Gibraltar is an independent British Overseas Territory.

Vernacular architecture

2011-09-04T19:33:00.012+02:00

Although we live only a few minutes from the coast on the infamous tourist trap of the Costa Del Sol, there is nothing in our village or on our coastal strip that screams of Brits (or anyone else) On Holiday.

Walking around the beach on our usual stroll the other day, I thought I would take a few photos of the local domestic architecture.

There are a few key points to note here:

1) We live in a predominantly agricultural community.

This does not mean that people have huge fincas with acres of olives and all the rest of it - like we all watch on A Place In The Sun.

What it actually means is that most people live in the village and rent ground annually to grow their crops. A few lucky ones, slightly outside the village, have a bit of ground with their houses. These are the houses that most of the pix reflect.

They also invariably happen to be on the main road, not something your average Brit would choose, but it rarely bothers Spaniards.

And of course, in the village, there isn't enough space to have large plots of ground with your house.

2) A lot of the older houses were built out of soft stone from the local quarry. Looks great, incredibly thick walls, and - somewhat porous. Still, it's nice to have a stone house. Dread to think of the cost of that little cute stone cottage in the UK near the coast.

3) Houses when first built tended to have square rooms, maybe - but not always - an entrance hall, and to either side of the front door, a sitting room, and a kitchen, with one or two bedrooms behind. These were the posher houses. Poorer people had two rooms. One to sleep in and one to do everything else in. Cooking happened outside or wherever. Bathrooms didn't happen. Neither did glass windows, or electricity or mains water or.... etc.

There might have been a shady patio outside the bedrooms and/or a corral for the animals. And from this basic houseplan has developed today's village homes.

4) Spanish houses are rarely 'original'.

Spaniards have a positive mania for 'reforming' their houses to the latest ghastly fashion. Reforming basically means, either totally gutting or knocking down and starting again, all with single skin brieze block.

And - as they have to provide for their children - a nice looking single storey cottage will suddenly develop a floor above for their daughter/son plus offspring to live in.

Or the tiny bit of ground they do have, will sprout a single storey two room house, rapidly followed by the upper storey extension a couple of years later.

No mortgages for a lot of families where we live. The families just pitch in to provide a small bit of space for a young couple to start off their life together. But - would you want to live on the back of your parents?

These photos, as far as I know, don't reflect that syndrome - well not over the last ten years, although some do have either a roof terrace, or in one case, a - rare - two storey house that looks older than most of the current reforms. I've tried to show some of the houses that haven't been reformed beyond belief in order to provide homes for little Maria or little José.

So, off on our trip.

I like this house. If only it wasn't on the main road! The guy went to work in Malaga, the place belonged to his parents, and when he had finished his working life in the city, he moved back to the family home. He was lucky and managed to buy a cheap plot of land next to the house so regularly grows potatoes as a cash crop. He also has a similar sized decent plot right behind his house. He has a good sized stable, and a patio and the inevitable few outhouses. Next to the house is the track to the beach. As I say, not a bad house at all.

And from the other angle, the same house.

This guy has a house in the village and this nice place here, surrounded by ground too. Hmm, not without a peseta or so.

A single storey house - where the buildings have surreptitiously crept up the back and the railings signify the roof terrace.

A good example of a classic double-fronted single storey house.

A rare older two storey house - but see the work just above the roof of the house next to it? The two storied house matches in well, but the work on the side gives it away as one that was raised a storey some time ago.

This one has been revamped recently and looks quite striking. The words over the door refer to peones - workers.

Finca renovation - Part Whatever

2011-08-20T19:41:00.013+02:00

The last two weeks have seen another blitz on the finca renovation project.

Part of the problem is that we have too much stuff. Not only do we have too much furniture for a small house, we managed to bring every single bag of paper insecurity with us to Spain so our cupboards were crammed full of papers dating back some 20 years.

After all, when I started in journalism, on my first day, I was told I MUST keep all my old shorthand notebooks. It turned out the company had an injunction against it by an unmentionable firm, due to some rather sloppy reporting and editing, so it was decreed ever afterwards that all notebooks should be kept for centuries.

I followed this faithfully in my private life until this last fortnight when I chucked away half my life in a desperate attempt to gain decent living space.

Anyway, project dining room - cupboards and bookshelves emptied - temporarily housed in sitting room.

Walls needed repainting big time. A combination of neglect (working in Gib), humidity, and dust, had left them looking very sad and dilapidated. Still, have painter as partner and it was all soon as good as new. Took less time to paint the walls than it did to sort the wretched papers, and dust off all the books.

The window frames and shutters were washed down with sugar soap, they had a zillion coats of varnish on when we first put them in, and they looked as good as new after their sparkling treatment.

All the furniture was washed down too, and then polished off with beeswax.

Sheeted up and ready to go

Bookshelf emptied and sitting room full of transposed ~~junk~~ books and papers

A closer look at some of the books piled up all over the sofa - poor dog had nowhere to lie

But a quick wave of the magic wand (only took a week) and the books have mysteriously disappeared from the sitting room ...

... and are back on their shelves

Paintings back, desk clean and tidy, and shutters looking like new

Finally, we ate at our dining room table for the first time in rather too many years than I care to remember - it had become habit just to drop things on there until it was piled high with junk.

And when we weren't working on the dining room we decided to give the terrace garden a good hose down. Moving nearly 100 plantpots from one side to the other and back again isn't a lot of fun.

But there were some bright moments.

Tea kept us going (this one is Assam).

Next doors helped too - one day they cooked us tortilla and made a salad for our lunch.

And after a hard day's work, we usually chilled out with some sort of salad mix - here with olive pate and vegetarian slices.

Next installment - the kitchen.

Vroooooom

2011-08-07T08:50:00.002+02:00

We were too idle to wander down to the lunchtime rally of Harley Davidsons in Casemates yesterday.

It was the sixth international rally with hundreds of bikes gathering in Gib.

For the first time, the bikers left the square for a tour around the Rock - so we didn't need to go and see the rally - it virtually came past our front door.

The unmistakeable sound of not one but hundreds of Harleys came roaring up Main Street (the wrong way !!) so I shot out to get a few pix.

APC - a caching tale

2011-08-06T09:41:00.004+02:00

Flushed with the success of our First To Find, here, in spite of going via a rubbish dump, and Partner falling down a tree hole, we set off to hunt down another one which had been up for a month with no record of a find.

We figured we should be in with a good chance unless someone had found it just before we arrived. Unlikely. We set off bright and early before it got too hot and too busy on the roads.

The cache was located near to Lake Vinuela. This is the main water supply for the Costa del Sol east of Málaga, and was created in the 1980s when the valley of the River Guaro was flooded. It takes a really bad drought for the water level to drop in Vinuela, and it holds up to 170 million cubic metres of water whatever that signifies.

I don't like Lake Vinuela. It is outstandingly beautiful and outstandingly spooky. The water always looks cold and chilling, and deep. Very deep. Readers of this blog will know that I happily swim in the deep water of the Med near our village - but I wouldn't dip my big toe in Vinuela.

Anyway we drove past Vinuela - and away from it - in search of the cache. We had to turn off the main road - but which turn to take? When we thought we had spotted the correct turn-off, we drove slightly further on, turned round and headed off up the side road. As the road got narrower, and higher, and more vertiginous, I looked at the GPS and realised we were heading away from the cache. Ooops. A quick turn around in someone's drive was called for.

We parked up in a rather nice olive grove, said 'Hola, buenas dias,' to some workies and set off down the track. Nope. Wrong again.

Sigh. This was meant to be an easy drive-in cache. I gazed at the GPS. We were a kilometre away and heading in the wrong direction. It was just after 8am, so we decided to walk down the road rather than getting in the Landy again.

It was a pleasant morning and there was no traffic. We met a dog walker looking very British with two dogs on a lead. (Spanish people in the country never lead up their dogs). 'Morning,' said Partner in his best British ex-pat voice. 'Morning' she replied in the same tone of voice, and smiled Britishly.

We got to the cache location. We looked all around and about. For ages. It had to be there. Somewhere. But where? Of course. Hidden in a glass jar, in one of those holes for a meter box, just above a drain. Great. What was in there? Nada. Apart from the log book - which had been finally signed by someone about 12 hours previously. Damn!! It sits there for more than a month with no locals finding it, and it finally gets found the evening before we visit by a holidaymaker from Germany. Oh well, can't find them all first.

One of my friends refers to some caches as APCs. Another Pointless Cache. In his words: 'APCs are typically a magnetic nano on a waste bin in a lay-by with no views or anything of significance, beauty or anything whatsoever!!'

I have to say this was an APC. Not quite according to his description but it certainly struck me as pointless. It would even have been pointless had we been FTF. The views are ok but it's hard to go anywhere in La Axarquía and not have good views. And certainly hiding it just above a mosquito-ridden drain ranks with a nano on a waste bin in a lay-by in my opinion. It would have been better hidden under the rocks by the olive tree over the road.

The walk was good though. Had we actually managed to drive right up to it, it would have been even more pointless. Still I guess it is unlikely to be vandalised, unlike the caches we have hidden in local beauty spots.

Looking towards the northern ridge

Looking towards Comares, the white village perched on the top of the hill

Looking - er - in the other direction??

Making bread and - pizza! pizza! pizza!

2011-08-03T15:49:00.008+02:00

Shortcrust pastry - tick.

Puff pastry - tick.

Omelettes - tick.

Soufflees - tick.

Hollandaise sauce - tick.

Mayo - well this post isn't about mayo.

Bread though - I needed to tick bread off the list.

Naturally I started with croissants. I have to say that if you haven't made bread before, possibly croissants are not the most sensible place to start. I thought they were 'cos they sounded like the puff pastry stuff with a bit of yeast chucked in.

They were terrible. Disastrous. Inedible. I left yeast alone for many years.

Bread-making did not happen again until marital bliss involved my partner making wholemeal loaves for a good few years.

Even more years later, I was still annoyed by this failure to tick bread off the list. I had a week off work. I bought a bread book. (Actually I bought two but one was better than the other). Most importantly I had a Rayburn. I figured the problem had not been letting the stuff rise or prove or whatever for long enough.

I determined that I would cook bread every single day until I had produced at least one decent loaf. And dear reader, I did, and I produced more than one.

In fact, I don't know where I went wrong before, it is so easy!!

Anyway, I have to recommend making your own pizza. Seriously. By the time you have rung up the pizza place, got them to deliver some soggy stuff with not really the topping that you want - or you have wandered up to collect your own slightly less soggy pizza - you could have made your own for less than half the price.

Should say - cost of flour (Allinsons) less than 50p. Cost of dried yeast (also Allinsons) - minimal - a 125g container costs 70 or 80p. I used to use fresh yeast but haven't found any in Gib. People living in Spain can buy it from Mercadona for around 30/35 cents. That reminds me, I started to decrease the recommended amount of yeast, you can usually manage with less.

Ingredients/quantities courtesy of Paola Gavin - Italian Vegetarian Cookery

1/2 oz of dried yeast, I use two teaspoons
8oz water
14oz flour
2 tablespoons of olive oil, I pour in what feels like enough

Add yeast to water and let dissolve until it looks nice and cloudy and yeastyish

Add olive oil to yeast and water

Add liquid to approx 8oz of flour

Mix well, then add more flour to wherever you are going to knead and put (soft and wet) dough on there to start the kneading

Keep adding flour until it is springy but still soft without being wet

Then add to bowl to rise for max one hour (in warm weather or a warm place, half an hour may be enough)

Cover with clean tea towel

When risen, knock back, and roll out to pizza shape of choice, I prefer squarish - my tins are square .....

Tips:

I use a mix of wholemeal and white strong flour, probably more white as it gives a crispier base

Add a drop of olive oil to the bowl before you put the dough in to rise

Another drop for the tin or tray you are going to cook it in

Cooking time in hot oven? About 15 mins. See? Half an hour or so to rise, 15 mins to cook, and it's ready. DO NOT forget to put it on a cooling tray immediately to ensure the base stays crisp.

Topping:

I used to use a tomato based sauce, but I have recently decided it is far more successful to just chuck a load of stuff on top like they do in pizza places.

So instead of sauce - chop up as many tomatoes as you want and cover base (I need to buy some puree to smear over too), add onion, garlic, hot chillies of your choice, olives, capers - and anything else you want.

I really dislike cheese on my pizza nowadays, I like a hot sharp and tasty veg pizza. But if you like cheese, and whatever else, go ahead, add it.

As my partner said - 'I can manage without cheese on my pizza, I can't manage without olives'.

The virgin goes to sea

2011-07-24T07:54:00.007+02:00

Mid-July is the time for fishing villages in Andalucia to honour the patron saint of the sea - the Virgin del Carmen.

She spends most of the year locked away in the church, but in our village on the Sunday nearest to July 16, she gets taken down, dusted off, and borne away for a boat ride around the bay.

Although the centre of our pueblo is about ten minutes walk from the beach, there is still a community down there, presumably once totally fishing-based, of around 100 or more houses. And some of the people in the pueblo still have boats too, although these days, they are more likely to be used for sport rather than fishing.

So on this special day, come early evening, the virgin is put on her 'trono' (translated as throne, but it is really a float) surrounded with flowers and taken out of the church.

All the bearers and people in the procession are dressed in the traditional red, white and blue colours of the marineros (sailors), and wear espadrilles.

When we first arrived in the village, quite a lot of the procession went barefoot - for atonement or humility I suppose. Times have moved on, and everyone seemed to be shod this year.

Times have moved on in another way too. Some years ago, the bearers were all men (after all it is a religious brotherhood) but now women shoulder the weight too. And this year, there were women at the front of the various sections holding symbols and flags.

Once out of church, they parade down the main street, and then make their way to the beach. We might be ten minutes walk away but this takes them well over an hour. It would do, because apart from the fact that they walk the long way round so that everyone gets to see them and the traffic on the main road is held up, they stop virtually every five minutes for a rest and a drink of agua, while the priest solemnly intones his bell.

As dusk approaches, they reach the beach. The virgin is carefully installed in the boat, and off she goes for a gentle ride. Surprisingly she goes out for some time and for quite a way. Hopefully she doesn't fall in the sea, although some of our neighbours told us that the one in Nerja once did.

Once back safely on shore, the procession resumes and winds its way round the shorter loop back home. By now it's dark and late and everyone is carrying candles to light the return journey.

The first time we went to watch the procession we didn't follow it round the beach. It seemed too intrusive for a pair of new foreigners in the village to join in what seemed like a large family gathering.

But the next year, we did wander down the beach, and it was quite an impressive event.

This year when I went down to take photos at the start, I got lots of Holas and Buenas, and even Buenas Tardes from a few. Guess we are part of the fixtures and fittings now.

Although the annual Romeria in May is far more flamboyant, I like the solemnity and simplicity of this procession.

The only thing I have seen that lets it down was at the night-time return to church which I watched one year. When the virgen had been taken inside to spend another boring year gazing down at everyone from her perch, there was almost a fight outside as people grabbed as many of the free flowers from the float as they could get their hands on. Didn't seem quite right really.

Onto the photos.

The beginning of the procession with the local youth band. The young girl at the front is carrying one of the local penants. Bet she had armache at the end of the night. In front of her is an older woman carrying a religious banner.

One of the beautiful religious flags and a staff signal the arrival of the virgin. She is approaching down the street in the background.

The throne-bearers take the first rest, a few hundred metres from the church. It's at the main crossroads in the village so is a good place for everyone to meet up and join the procession if they didn't start at the church.

A close-up of the glorious lilies.

Ready to move on again. Note the circus in the background. Can't imagine their takings were too high that night. Who is going to pay to visit the circus when they can join in the annual walk to the beach for free with all their friends and family? Bad timing on the part of the circus methinks.

Get on the bus, Gus - in Gib

2011-06-09T15:28:00.011+02:00

Today I got on the bus. Haven't been on the bus for ages because normally I walk around everywhere in Gib.

But guess what? at the last Bank Holiday weekend (end of May) it was all change on the buses in Gib.

New routes, new numbers - and - free. Yes, that's right. Free. With the exception of the bus that travels between the frontier and town, the buses in town are now free.

And for months now, we have been watching the installation of rather nice new bus stops. Just as well, one of our local ones had so many holes in the side there wasn't much point standing 'inside' in the wind or the rain.

Out with the old ...

... And in with the new

Well, it was always a busy bus route from Morrisons back home and today it hadn't changed. Totally full. Took even longer sitting around in Market Place for no obvious reason. Still, free is good.

Quick summary of new bus routes and a link below to the official poster:

New bus routes

Route 1
Starts at Market Place, goes along Queensway via Reclamation Road, past Trafalgar and up the back to the Moorish Castle. Back down a similar route via Waterport.

Route 2
Market Place via Line Wall to Europa Point and back via South Barracks Road and Rosia Road.

Route 3
Market Place via Line Wall to South Barracks Road. This is basically half of the old number four route, it just no longer goes to the eastern side.

Route 4
Does go up the east side. Europort, then Devils Tower Road, to Sir Herbert Miles, ie just before the re-opened tunnel.

Route 5
Goes from the frontier, via Market Place, to Reclamation Road, and back again. This service is to PAY.

What happens if you go to Morrisons? Virtually every bus service stops there - only one that doesn't is number 2.

The price used to be cheap, 60p single, so being free doesn't make that much difference if you don't use it much. The new single price on the number 5 frontier Market Place service has shot up to £1.

So why do we have free bus services? Well because it encourages people to use public transport and not their cars in a small congested area? How about because we have a general election this year? Free bus services were mentioned in the manifesto four years ago by the GDP. It's taken until now to implement them. That's probably because the GDP thinks people wouldn't remember freebies if they were implemented earlier. They are probably right.

The general election is probably also why we have all these lovely new health parks and kiddy playgrounds and .. and .. and .. the sudden flurry of activity at Europa Point with the new beautification project ie tourist attractions. There maybe more that I haven't notice.

Or am I just being cynical?

Still, the free bus service was nice today when I had a bad knee and heavy shopping. Otherwise I would have walked. Bad knee, heavy shopping and all. Hardly contributing to less car use in Gib am I? I never use a car in Gib anyway.

And, if the idea is to reduce vehicle use in Gib, and ease parking - why charge on the frontier route? Because won't that encourage people to continue driving into Gib? And continuing to clog up the car parks? Until the free parking changes? And it ain't free any more and charges are introduced?

Cooking with legumes/pulses. Two dals

2011-06-06T11:08:00.010+02:00

Dried peas and beans are not part of the UK staple diet.

About the only thing that comes remotely near that is mushy peas. Invariably Batchelors with those two strange round tablets to chuck in the soaking water overnight.

We had mushy peas with fish and chips, and we had pea and ham soup. I didn't like the nasty salty ham and I guess by the time you had added the tablets to the peas it was even saltier.

A bit later my mother discovered lentils and made lots of lentil soup. That was ok. But otherwise - pulses? They are for poor people aren't they?

So when I first decided to cut out meat from my diet, I needed to get that most important protein. After all, westerners can't live without huge amounts of protein can they? I bought a Rose Elliott cookbook which was the basis of my pulse cooking for ages.

We also bought a pressure cooker. These are obligatory in every home in Spain. Every household has one to my knowledge, because, guess what? Garbanzos (chick peas), lentejas (lentils), and alubia (any sort of other bean!) are standard fare for the main meal of the day.

Not only that, but Spaniards will cheerfully describe their meal of lentils or garbanzos or beans as 'muy rico' - delicious. And then go into raptures about it and how and what everyone exactly puts in to make it so delicious.

The only time I have ever heard anyone waxing lyrically in the UK about pea and ham soup has been when there has been far more ham than peas in the soup.

But where I live in Spain, while it's not very poor area, it's not a rich one either. Many people make their living from the land, and we all try and eat cheaply. Pulses are filling, nutritional and - tasty.

There is not the same obsession with meat that I saw in the UK. Yesterday I stood in the supermarket in Gib and looked at the stuff bought by the guy behind me. Nearly £11 on two rather puny pieces of prime sirloin steak. My god!! I ring my hands when I pay £4 something for a pack of seitan and consider it a luxury. And next, he put down two even tinier pieces of salmon fillet for £5. They didn't even look worth buying they were so miniscule.

How many bags of different pulses could I buy from my local shop for that sort of money? And how many meals could I make? Lots is the answer.

I've mentioned the Spanish use of chick peas, lentils and beans, and because they use them so often, they are never stale or hard. I am equally lucky here in Gib with a couple of Indian shops which have every pulse and spice under the sun, more or less.

I decided it was time to embark on some of the promising recipes in my fave Indian cookbook - Julie Sahni's Classic Indian Vegetarian Cookery. I bought a whole new load of different goodies to prepare:

Punjabi Five Jewel Creamed Lentils - Panch Ratan Dal

There are five different types of lentil in the recipe and the five spices/seasonings are onion, garlic, coriander, ginger and chillies. Ms Sahni doesn't include fresh chillies in the recipe as it also includes cayenne but at least tells us we can add some if we like a hot taste. We do and I did.

Ingredients

Yellow split peas - or yellow lentils and Indian yellow split peas
Split white gram beans - urad dal
Split yellow mung beans - moong dal
Red lentils - masar dal

Turmeric
Salt
Oil
Onions
Garlic
Ginger
Tomatoes
Green chillies

Spice perfumed butter

Cumin seeds
Cayenne
Paprika
Fresh coriander/cilantro

I've not given quantities but basically, add however many of the pulses in whatever proportion you like for a decent meal. Say anywhere between six and ten ounces in total?

I didn't soak this lot overnight, but I did stick them in the pressure cooker. Next time I would probably soak them for an hour or two and cook normally to retain better texture.

Wash the pulses and cook them with the turmeric. When nearly finished add salt. (This is why I don't understand the marrowfat peas thing with sodium bicarb tablets - in this and other Indian recipes the salt goes in near the end of the cooking).

Cook onions, garlic, ginger, chillies and toms in frying pan and then add to dal.

For the spice perfumed butter - cook cumin seeds in oil and then add cayenne and paprika. Add to dal and stir slightly. Sprinkle with fresh coriander and serve.

And yesterday I tried:

White Gram Beans Laced with Onion Butter

White gram beans - 7oz approx
Cardamom pods - 2 black or 4 green
Bay leaves (2)
Turmeric
Salt
(Soya) milk
Water

(half and half milk/water)

Wash, and soak gram beans. Book said for two hours so I soaked for one in boiling water. Worked perfectly well.

Cook with above ingredients for around an hour, or until ready.

Spice perfumed butter

Oil
Onion - 1
Garlic
Ginger
Cloves
Garam masala
Black peppercorns - cracked.

OK. I missed out the cloves. Eight seemed vastly excessive and I have a garam masala with lots of cloves in anyway.

Otherwise, fry onion, add garlic, ginger (and cloves), then when ready add garam masala and cracked peppercorns to sizzle for a few seconds, and pour over dal.

I served it with basmati rice and:

Fragrant Tomato-Onion Sauce

Oil
Black mustard seeds
Asafoetida
Cayenne
Onions
Tomatoes
Green chillies
Salt

Add mustard seeds to hot oil. Put lid on pan as the seeds spatter. When they have calmed down, add asafoetida and cayenne. Then add the onions, and stir until they are wilted. Add remaining ingredients and cook on low heat until of suitably saucy consistency. Turn off heat and let rest for half an hour. Apparently it keeps well in the fridge for a day. Not here it doesn't - never got anywhere near the fridge.

Worked out great for breakfast too.

Top tips

If you do decide you want to eat more pulses - for whatever reason - do buy a pressure cooker, and buy dried pulses, preferably from a shop that has a quick turnover.

Buying beans in cans and jars means you will often have additives. Dried ones don't.

Adding dill to beans eg white haricot beans or butter beans aids in cooking and digestibility. And tastes nice too.

Another first

2011-06-05T16:06:00.013+02:00

I've got a couple of friends to thank for this post. The first sent me the cache info in an email to my mobile when it came up as a new cache and I had no internet access, and the second was chatting this morning about caches and blogs - which reminded me I hadn't posted this up.

So there I was, idly lying on the bed as usual flicking through emails and using up too much saldo, when the geocaching newsletter came up with a new cache about 20kms from us. Hey! Could be another first to find.

We left it for a couple of days but decided to go for it on the Sunday. If someone else had found it first, well, no matter. Our fault for hanging around.

The trouble with just getting the info over an email is - you don't get the little map thing or driving directions, so you have to guess how to get there. Especially difficult when there is nothing remotely resembling an OS map in Spain.

But, we had a river as something to aim for, so off we went. It didn't help that there was no GPS signal all the way there. We crossed what look like 'the' river - no name on the bridge - and then couldn't turn right. We ended up doing a merry few miles detour to come back on ourselves.

Once off the main road it wasn't too difficult to keep heading towards the river. GPS still not working. We found a nice dead end street, parked up and got out to see if it would finally find some satellites.

Partner walked to the end of the street and spotted the viaduct. This was one of the other features mentioned that was near the cache. It's a viaduct we regularly travel over that invariably makes me feel nauseous. On bad vertigo days I can't even look out of the window as we go across. It looked even worse from the ground up.

We set off down the track which wasn't particularly impressive as it seemed to be an unofficial council rubbish dump. In fact a council truck came down, reversed round and sat there happily doing nothing. Once past the rubbish we traipsed uphill and came upon a strange building - and - more rubbish.

This is not the sort of place people hide caches. Caches, for the most part are hidden in nice scenic places. And the ones who had hidden this one, had also hidden two extremely other good ones elsewhere in beautiful locations. Not rubbish dumps.

We gazed down at the river, which by now was well below us. I looked at the GPS. 'It's over there.' I said. 'On the other side of the river.' I was NOT scrambling down the sheer river bank which was more like a cliff.

'We'll just walk down the road to where we can get down to the river and then walk up the bed,' he said. Yeah. Right. Heard these bright ideas before. I was busy practicing saying 'You just go and do it yourself darling while I wait in the Landy' when I heard some strange grunts.

He was rolling over and over on the pavement in a little ball, grunting away. While I had been busy walking in the middle of the road (in the shade) looking at the GPS, he had sensibly been walking on the pavement. This is not a regular occurence, it is invariably the other way round. Being unused to pavements he had completely missed a ginormous hole that previously homed a rather large tree. He tripped over the edging, fell down the hole, rolled out and over onto the pavement.

I panicked and thought we should go home. Rubbish dumps and injuries weren't good omens. He got annoyed. 'I've nearly broken an arm and a leg to try and find this cache. We'll find it.'

But we agreed to drive to the other side of the river. A long walk is fine, but not through boring houses and streets. And of course when we arrived, it was a perfect cache spot. Parking, picnic tables, pretty riverside scenery, no rubbish dumps.

We (he) found it pretty quickly. As I took photos up and down the river, I noticed there was a track down from the high bank on the other side. Oh well. It was prettier on the cache side.

And we could never have walked up the river bed - ie never have climbed up the waterfall!!

And a couple of mobile pix - sorry - of a lovely cache up at Alcaidesa. Well worth a trip for anyone who comes down to the Gib area.

Royal Gun Salute - 2 June 2011 - Gibraltar

2011-06-02T13:11:00.006+02:00

Today we wandered down to the dockyard to watch the 21 gun salute for the accession to the throne of HM Queen Elizabeth II.

It's easy, living in a place like Gib, to get blasé about these sort of events. It's five or ten minutes walk away from us, the dockyard is a spectacular setting, tickets are free, and the Governor of Gibraltar did the honours today. It's not the only salute, there are also the royal birthdays and maybe a few others, so if you miss one there is always another one to watch in a few months' time.

Sir Adrian Johns, Governor of Gibraltar

Free tickets

This was the first time Partner had attended, he's always been working before. Like me, the first time I attended a royal salute, and like someone I spoke to back then, he was surprised how few people were there. The salute today was fired by Headquarter Company (Thomson’s Battery) of the Royal Gibraltar Regiment.

Stepping out before the guns are fired

No 1 gun firing

But nevertheless it was a good event. A few of the great and the good (?) of Gibraltar got front row treatment and the rest of us stood up to watch. I was mildly impressed with our Governor, Sir Adrian Johns, who seemed to take a lot of time speaking to all the members of the Gibraltar Regiment taking part in the ceremony. Not just a handshake, but a little bit more of a chat.

And when everything had finished, he thanked the members of the GibReg for taking part and marking the accession to the throne. Nice touch Sir Adrian. Score high on the PR-ometer from me.

All lined up

No more chat for now

Cycling in Spain - and stuff ....

2011-05-08T15:23:00.005+02:00

Living in a mild climate next to the sunny Mediterranean, cycling is a year-round activity.

At weekends the clubs are out dashing up and down the coast road for miles and miles. During the week, people with time off, or the idle not-so-rich like us, get to go out in their ones, twos or threes.

Chillin' (and cyclin')

It's more than five, or six or seven, or something, years since we started cycling - again. When I say again, I mean Partner, as my cycling in my youth was limited to round and round the garden and up and down the drive. With the exception of university - where I cycled part-way around Sefton Park, and Amsterdam when I nearly ended up in the canal due to a lack of skill with back-peddling in order to brake - my road cycling has been zilch. Oh, there was the tandem with Partner, but most of that was done on an old railway line along the east coast in the UK.

Here is the link to the start of the torture machines entering my life.

The bikes rescued from the skip were perfect and we cycled happily along tracks and I graduated to the road. We cycled further and further in each direction.

One day I was struggling back home and a road cycling group whizzed past. 'Venga con nosotros!' they said - 'Come with us!'

'Ojala,' I said wearily. 'If only.'

But months and months and years and years brought results, and one day we set off for a town 20 or so kms up the coast. Flat tyre within the first few kms. Partner pumped it up and I cycled like mad until it went down again. We did this about three times until we got to the first town where we could either buy a new inner tube or fix the existing one and check it with water. Can't remember now - I just remember cycling like mad to get to town!!

Well, lo and behold, further up the coast - there was another puncture. When we got to our destination - yes, yet another one. We had stopped for a drink at a bar so went back to ask for some water to fix the third puncture. Once sorted, we sat and ate our cheap-skate sandwiches brought from home while looking at the sea.

I should say that a group of cyclists had offered to help when we (aka him) were sorting the puncture. We said no thanks. This was the incredibly famous Sean Kelly and some members of an Irish cycling club (Banbridge? - it began with B anyway) who were staying in the area and taking blind people out on tandems.

Now, pay attention. Because although we shot past them as they cruised idly down the non-cycling promenade - they overtook us on the road. But!! We beat them!! Yes, we beat Sean Kelly and clubmates back into town :) But only because we knew the short cuts. Still, I need to say that, because it has to be one of my most famous cycling achievements ever.

In fact, as you do, I was looking things up on the internet today, and it seems you can go cycling with Sean Kelly in Majorca for lots of euros. I don't think so. Because after we joined up again and had a laugh about us beating them, we cycled happily down the promenade together. Cyclists can be nice people with no side. Even when they are world famous.

Which brings me to last week. The cycling is not going too good. My pal Sean would def beat me now. That horrid green slime that Partner insisted on sticking in the tyres to avoid punctures doesn't help. It drags me back, I swear it.

But I bounded personfully on the bike, full of enthusiasm and fitness after my GibGym exercises (no not Gib Gin, that is another story). Off we sailed - or cycled - down the railway track, the going was good - and downhill.

We joined the road. The road is long and endless. My poor little legs struggled to push the wheels round. Nasty bike didn't want to go anywhere. Nasty wheels would not go round. I kept stopping and moaning about the slime.

I checked the brakes weren't sticking. I spun the front wheel. Good as gold. I was about to spin the back wheel ... 'I did all that,' said Really Fit and Fast Cycling Partner Laughing His Arse Off. 'You won't get a puncture with the slime in there.'

I got back on. Reluctantly. Bumpety bumpety bump went the back wheel. I jumped off in a flurry. Looked at the back wheel and it was absolutely rotto. The tyre was totally flat. No puncture with the horrid green slime???????

We weren't far from home. We argued on the side of the road and walked the bikes home.

As the cycle ride had not turned out too well, we climbed in the Landy to go geocaching.

This was a very nice drive. Great directions to the cache - we normally get lost trying to drive to this fortress, and - good co-ordinates. As it clearly wasn't my day, I left the glory of finding the cache to someone else.

He found it!!

The tower

Arabic archway

Approaching La Fortaleza

Then we went to look at the new Holy Week (Semana Santa) museum. It was closed, they were still bringing back all the images - idols? - following the processions over the Easter holiday. Maybe next time. Still, a good cache, and all in all a good morning.

The church of Santa Maria - now home to the Holy Week museum

Might even manage to get rid of that horrid slime out of my tyres soon - it soooo slows me down. And clearly doesn't prevent punctures at all.

All Indian - vegetarian Easter Sunday

2011-04-24T17:48:00.010+02:00

I trotted out to one of our local shops today to buy a bottle of sparkling water. As luck had it, a particularly well-stocked Indian shop was open so I raided the shelves.

First a bag of channa dal to make a spicy dal mix with onions and tomatoes.

Next pappadams. I bought a bag flavoured with cumin.

Then, I wondered if I could find a jar of chutney without added sugar. I've made chutneys before, usually a mango one, but as I didn't have any mangoes in, it seemed a good opportunity to try a bought one.

The first jar I picked up listed sugar as the main ingredient. It got put down very quickly. I headed for the savoury pickles instead, chilli, hot lime, vegetable ones or hot ones. They didn't list sugar in the ingredients, probably because there was enough sweetness from the fruit in the pickles. I looked at the three jars I had selected and reluctantly put two back. I settled for mixed pickle. Check out the Patak web site for recipes and products. I was pretty impressed by it which is a rare occurence. It's well-designed, easy to use, and very informative. The ingredients of each product are listed, and there is a guide as to how hot the product is. The mixed pickle was very hot apparently.

Back home I flicked through my excellent Indian book - Classic Indian Vegetarian Cookery by Julie Sahni - and settled on a coriander chutney.

So here we go.

Pappadams
Listed ingredients in the pappadams: urid flour, cumin, asafoetida, salt, sodium bicarb as raising agent, oil, and other spices.

Instructions for cooking are: 1) fry quickly in hot oil 2) microwave 3) cook over hot flame. Well as 2) and 3) are out here that left 1). But I've fried them before and not been happy with the result. A bit of lateral thinking and I figured the equivalent of a hot flame could be a hot grill.

Quickly grilled pappadams

And there they are. Quite perfect. Served as a starter with the bought pickle and the home-made chutney. (I'd had to try the pickle before we ate of course. Excellent.)

Served with pickle and chutney

Coriander chutney
Add large bunch of coriander leaves to blender container, plus green chillies to taste, some salt, a couple of slices of ginger, lemon juice or white wine vinegar, and 3-4 fl ozs of water. Mint leaves are optional and luckily I found a few in with my coriander bunch.

Chutney ingredients

Whizz up and that's it. Takes no time at all. Next time I would use more vinegar and less water, but that's because we like vinegar here. I suppose it's similar to mint sauce with coriander added.

It keeps for a couple of days in the fridge.

Finished chutney

Spice-perfumed dal
Add lentils or channa dal or whatever to water, with a teaspoon of turmeric, and as many green chillies as you like. Let simmer away merrily while you get on with everything else. Channa dal takes longer than lentils but has more texture when finished.

Dal under way

Prepare the onion and tomato mix. Chop them all finely.

Add onions to frying pan with oil (I use olive). When golden add tomatoes and grated ginger.

When soft and pulpy, add to dal mix.

For spice perfumed butter, ie oil in my case, put oil in frying pan, heat, and add panch phoron to pan. This is a mix of seeds: fennel, fenugreek, black onion, mustard and cumin in equal proportions. Add around a tablespoon in total. Mustard seeds splatter so cover with a lid.

After not long at all, ie when cumin seeds are darkening, add a couple of bay leaves and some dried red chlllies. When they darken, turn off the heat, and add garlic if you are using it. Let garlic sizzle and then add the mixture to the dal.

For me, it is the addition of the ginger in the onion and tomato mix and the panch phoron that really lift this recipe so that it has so many sublime flavours.

The finished dal - not just another bowl of lentils at all

Spicy potatoes
Boil potatoes, my recipe book says in skins and then peel when tender but still firm. Slice, and place in bowl with some general curry powder/garam masala. Turn them to ensure they are evenly coated and after they have cooled down, saute them. Can serve them at any temperature.

Couple of comments.

The pickle and the chutney went down faster than I expected. I thought the pickle was expensive at £3.50 but it is delicious and there is no junk in it. The coriander chutney worked out far cheaper.

Cost of rest of today's purchases, all of which were only about half used, if that:

Channa dal - around £1
Pappadams - around £1
Coriander plus three green chillies - £1

Spanish round-up

2011-04-16T11:14:00.005+02:00

A quick photoshoot of our time in Spain.

Let's start with the winter jasmine - in its full glory. It looks so delicate and abundant and smells delightful.

But not to Adelina next door. 'Me molesta,' she said. 'Are you going to cut it down?'

Er no Adelina, it only flowers for a few weeks a year and we like it. We didn't even plant it, the previous owner did. It's a bit like the smell of our neighbours' washing which gets hung out on the terrace, it isn't exactly my favourite but it isn't there all the time, just like the jasmine.

Now, where was I before I got distracted? Oh yes. The locust. I need JB and his mum or anyone else to tell me if this flying monster is a locust.

'Mire el cigarrón! Matalo!' said José when he spotted it on the olive tree. He says that about most things.

We didn't kill it. I picked it up and took it over to show Adelina but she nearly had a heart attack. It was even worse than the jasmine.

I let it go and it sat on the step. Then it jumped to the gate.

When we got back to Gib and the internet we looked it up and figured it was a locust. Hope I have some plants left when I get back!

Although, if it wants to eat the spider plants it can. They are nothing but weeds I have discovered. Plant them in the ground and their wretched tuberous roots take over the place. This is clearly why the Spanish plant them in twee little plant pots. They are pretty drought resistant too, presumably storing all the water in those invasive fat tubers, so they need little attention. That was one of the reasons why I had the bright idea to stick some in the walled garden. Until I discovered how far they spread once they got hooked in.

Marguerites are also weeds in my opinion. They provide a good splash of colour for a large part of the year - until they default back to white of course - and if you don't cut off the millions of dead heads, they reseed all over the place. So all the little seedings came out too. I don't want a garden full of big daisies.

We had our usual walk around the beach and gazed at the lovely finca which is everyone's dream buy for around £40,000. It's owned by a Scandinavian embassy - I don't think they would be selling it for £40,000 somehow even in these times of recession.

And we finished the sitting room. Finally. Rehung the paintings (Turner prints) and the mirror.

Some food - looks like another paella....

Good news, bad news

2011-04-04T16:55:00.015+02:00

The first dog walk of the day yesterday brought some good news. A dog-walking friend who has been unemployed for a few weeks, maybe a month or more, had finally found a new job. Excellent. We were both really pleased for her.

Similarly, the next dog walk brought more employment news. In this case, a small, but still a job, for us.

I'd not gone on the second dog walk. I'd been faffing around on the computer and wondered why it seemed to be wobbling. I clicked on the casing to make sure it wasn't coming loose. I checked the cables at the back which sometimes catch in the hinge of the screen (it's a laptop).

Then I picked up the computer to look underneath - there must be something small hidden on the top of the makeshift desk that was making it move. Nothing. I glanced at the base of the computer as I was putting it down again.

The battery was sticking half out of its slot. I gazed at it horrified. Precious Hal was poorly again. I dived for the skimpy First Aid instruction manual. Turn off, disconnect cables and wait ten mins.

Turned off, disconnected and waited. I paced up and down the flat for ten mins. Poor poor Hal. His insides could be eaten away by battery fluid even as I waited.

Started trying to slide the catch things. The catch for the side of the battery that was still in place slid beautifully. The catch for the side that was sticking half out - did nothing. Immovable.

No! No! No! More expensive recovery at the Apple Shop. Boooooo. Hoooooo.

Partner came in wanting to chat about the small job. I dragged him to look at poor Hal. I gazed at him (Partner, not Hal) with sad green eyes. Beseechingly. I hoped.

He pedantically put on his glasses, pushed me out of the way, and said something dismissive about manual dexterity skills, or lack of in my case. Cheek. The battery flipped out. Bloated, expanded, and presumably knackered. No wonder the battery light thing had been messing around and the fan had been working overtime ....

OK, so far, three bits of good news - well the battery was retrieved from Hal which was good, and as I never move the lappy, I don't actually need the battery. Also took the one out of the HP reserve lappy as well just in case that decided to take a turn for the worse. Now for the bad news. Sad news is more appropriate I guess.

All was restored to calm in Gibflat. Later in the evening, after sleeping through most of Quantum of Solace, I flicked onto FB. One of the recent posts puzzled me. It was from someone I had met some six or seven months ago when she visited Spain.

We'd 'met' on FB via a mutual (virtual for me) friend, and we'd shared some laughs and silly games. It had been fun, and she seemed like a warm, caring, witty, and friendly person.

When she announced last year that she was coming to Andalucía, I asked, out of interest where she was coming. It turned out to be not too far from us. She was coming with a friend who I didn't virtually know, but I said, if they had time it might be nice to meet up.

First Friend, let's call her F for first, agreed, but like lots of meet-ups no more was said. But then, suddenly, she was here in Spain, and we agreed a day and a time at their small private hotel.

We drove up and up into the hills where they were staying. F came out to meet us. I won't forget her face, lovely smile and arms wide open to greet us.

I should say that these two women had given up a day's excursion just to stay at the hotel to meet us. Even worse, although they thought they had missed the beach day which they could live with, there was a change of plan and they had ended up missing a national park day. Much worse. Still feel guilty about that now.

So we sat down inside their hotel. It was a lovely peaceful tranquil place. Reformed, but not over the top, and just, comfortable and a pleasant place to chat with - new - friends.

Second Friend, we'll call her S for second, came down to meet us shortly afterwards. Bearing in mind we hadn't even corresponded via FB, she too had a lovely smile and a warm welcome for us. Later we moved outside as the weather cleared up and chatted and gazed at the beautiful mountain views.

Er, rather cloudy mountain views here

These sort of situations are fraught with potential difficulties. We didn't find any. Both women were friendly, good company, and there seemed to be loads to talk about. I've spent a harder few hours with people I have known far better.

We left at their lunchtime, having spent - on our part - a super few hours. Apart from anything else, we had left the dog behind and it was at least an hour's drive back, so time to go home.

While I was puzzling over the strange post on FB last night, by Friend F, I noticed a PM pop up from her. S had died that day in hospital and F wanted to let us know. I thought that was so kind. They had given up a day of their holiday to meet us, a vague couple from the internet, and F still thought to let us know.

Even more sadly, like everyone else who knew S, I had sent birthday greetings from us both on Saturday in advance of her birthday on Sunday so she could read them in hospital. Her Facebook page was full of birthday greetings on Saturday from so many people wishing her well and hoping she would soon be out, and they continued well into Sunday. And then, later on Sunday, the comments changed. Into condolences. Yes, she died on her birthday. From cancer that had metastacised from her original one. Aged 37.

So - S - my memories of you? A friendly person, with a lovely smile, and a translucent skin, that made you look almost ethereal. And never a bad word or complaint or moan or anything about the hell you must have been going through.

Thank you for taking the time out of your too short life and your holiday to meet us. Hasta la proxima, guapa.

Book reviews - Cold Mountain, Book of Negroes and, others

2011-04-02T14:56:00.009+02:00

Without any further ado, here are some reviews of books I have been reading over the past few weeks.

First up Cold Mountain, by Charles Frazier, (1997), a historical novel set towards the end of the American Civil War.

There isn't really a plot. Confederate soldier wounded in war leaves hospital and walks home to find the woman he loved when the war started. Meanwhile she is struggling to survive on the family farm after the death of her father.

I'd picked this book up and put it down a few times at the library, but eventually I decided to give it a go.

The chapters alternate, for the most part, telling the story of the two people. One chapter is him walking home and the adventures that befall him on the way, the other is the woman gradually learning to live off the land with the help of a new friend.

If that sounds dull (and probably the blurb on the back of the book did too, hence me not taking it from the library originally) - it wasn't.

It was well-written, thoughtful, imaginative, and so visual. I read all the way through the book with vivid pictures in my head of both characters and their situations.

There was however, a sense of impending gloom over the book. Would the couple find each other again? Would he even get home to her? At one point he was shot and buried alive.

I recommend this book whole-heartedly, and I won't reveal the ending. I found it slightly twee, but apart from that, it was excellent.

Next one - The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill (2007). I thought this was a superb read (I don't often say that).

In a nutshell, it is a story about slavery. An African child is stolen and shipped to America where she changes owners, moves to Nova Scotia, then back to Africa and ends her life in London.

But it is the graphic descriptions of what tortuous conditions the slaves suffered that make this book. In a way it was embarrassing to read - to think that people could abuse each other so much. And yet it continues today in different forms.

I think the scene that impacted on me most was when the slaves were walking across Africa in the coffle - naked - and this girl started her first period. Menstrual blood dripping down her legs for everyone to see. Can you imagine that? I can and it makes me feel sick even now. Then there was the woman who gave birth while on the forced march.

Naturally, once this poor kid was esconced in slavery in America, she was raped by some white plantation owner. The child to her black lover was stolen from her. The list goes on.

Only let down? A bit like Cold Mountain. An unrealistic and unlikely ending. But as an eye-opener into slavery it was briliant. And again, extremely well-written. Another strong recommend.

A couple of rather more lightweight books now.

Letters from a Fainthearted Feminist - Jill Tweedie (1982). Gosh! Was it really so long ago.

I remember hearing about this years ago - nearly 30 in fact - but never got around to reading the columns in the Guardian or the published book until last week. Also a bit horrified to discover she is no longer alive, dying just turned 60 from motor neurone disease.

So what to say? Well, it was an easy read, and an enjoyable one. It's a short book, unlike the other two, so can be finished in a quick session. Some of it was witty and funny, some not. It's hard to write witty funny prose at the best of times, let alone when dealing with the complexities of feminism.

Towards the end it seemed to fade off. Or maybe I did. Either way, it's worth a read. For lefty feminists it's a gentle poke at some of the things we hold dear. No idea how non-lefty non-feminists will find it. But it's short enough for you to try it.

And the last one? Gulp. Never let it be said my reading taste is not catholic. So to speak.

Here goes ...

The Clematis Tree by Ann Widdecombe (2000).

Well the short review is that I don't recommend it. That doesn't mean it is unreadable, but I would certainly recommend the above three first. And a whole load of others.

Here is a summary of some reviews that will save me repeating the same stuff ad infinitum.

The plot (?) is child becomes brain-damaged and parents have relationship problems.

Religious figures abound of course. Not just Catholic nuns, but also C of E clergy and Jewish family (the rabbi doesn't seem to get a mention).

Euthanasia, abortion, guilt - oh! so! much! guilt! Read it if you want. I've wasted enough time writing about it.

What is it with politicians that makes them think becoming an elected member of parliament means they also become a novelist at the same time? Huh?

Just remembered, terrible style. That's what really griped. Not sure whether it was precious, precocious, or pretentious. But it jarred.

I wonder if she has written about animal rights? Opposing fox-hunting seems to have been one of her few attributes. I digress. But should you read this Ann, try another topic next time. Or less topics in one novel in fact.

I'm saving Homage to Catalonia for another post :)

A good place for a cache?

2011-03-30T11:57:00.005+02:00

Finca renovation continues relentlessly, but even the most dedicated grafters need a break.

We decided to place a cache in one of the 18th century coastal watchtowers that are dotted up and down the coastline.

Set on a hilltop just back from the beach (and the road) it commanded excellent views, looked well-maintained, didn't even involve a huge long hike or a scramble over rocks, unlike most of our other caches.

Commanding the coastliine

In fact, you could probably drive right up to it. We didn't. We parked off the road at the beach, crossed over and wandered leisurely up the hill.

Approaching the tower

There seemed to be a few cars parked at the top. Perhaps there was work going on? Or maybe it was a popular local viewpoint? Not such a good place for a cache if it was popular as they have a habit of going missing from such locations.

We rounded the corner. Stunned. There was a house built right at the bottom and half way around the side of the watchtower.

A house?!!!!

Hiding a cache here seemed even less of a good idea. We walked around the one side which the house hadn't yet annexed. No. There was no way we could hide one here. Even if we put it under a couple of rocks it would almost certainly be discovered by the householders and trashed.

Shame. A good location, nice views, and an impressive watchtower. Amazing place for a house though.

I thought I would see what I could find out about it. The official Andalucían sign at the tower (in the pic) came out with the usual stuff about how there was a series of watchtowers up and down the coast to warn the local population of attacks from pirates in the 18th century blah blah.

The Junta de Andalucia sign - just next to the chairs and table set out in the garden of the tower

It was semi-circular (fairly obvious), with two towers jutting out at the back, and had two floors and a roof terrace. For picking people off, not for sunbathing, or hanging out the laundry which is what most people use them for these days. Apparently the tower could hold almost 25 soldiers. It's the biggest on the Málaga coastline and unique in its shape - most of the others tend to be circular or square.

But the most interesting info I discovered, was at a site called Panoramio, where someone asked about the house. The reply (I couldn't find any corroboration for this, and there was no reference cited), was that after the Spanish Civil War, the tower was ceded as a home to the family of a pensioned Guardia Civil officer, whose descendants continue to live there.

So as well as being a unique shape, and the largest on the provincial coastline, it's also the site of a family home while being an official Andalucían monument.

The view down the coast from the top

Canine erlichiosis - tick disease

2011-03-16T15:48:00.024+01:00

It's three months to the day when we rushed Pippa to the vet. He struggled to move, didn't want to eat, and we thought he was dying. Turned out he was seriously ill with tick disease, but it could be treated.

So here is the lowdown on tick disease. It's on my blog rather than Pippa's as it is a serious post about pretty much most aspects of it, with some links that I found useful when I was researching it. I knew nothing about tick disease until three months ago, so maybe someone may find this post helpful/informative.

I've divided it into the following sections, in case you want to jump to particular bits and skip others which you may have read elsewhere. It may seem a back to front order, but it's the way it impacted on me, so there we go.

What happened

Blood test results

Erlichia canis and erlichiosis

Treatment

Prevention/control

Update

Sources

What happened

There was nothing very obvious to suggest that Pippa was poorly. In fact he had been to the vet the previous week for his annual shots, and we'd said he didn't have any health problems. As well as the shots, our vet gave us some extra tablets to give him at home as there was an outbreak of tapeworm in the countryside in our part of Spain.

A week or so later, he started to seem a bit tired and listless. He didn't want to walk as far around the block, and although he ate his meals, he preferred them to be brought to him rather than charging around the place. As you do, well I do, I jumped to conclusions and wondered if he was having a reaction to his jabs. Plus of course, with him coming to us off the streets, we don't know how old he is. We've had him seven years and he was a young dog when we got him.

The next day he seemed slightly perkier, so although we'd discussed going to the vet, we decided to wait and see. But the following day he was clearly poorly, not wanting to go out at all in the morning, and sitting down because he was having trouble putting weight on his back legs. We didn't bother discussing anything, a sudden deterioration at his rear could mean anything. He was lifted into the vehicle well before 8am and we were on the road to the vet.

Poorly

When we arrived, he seemed a bit brighter. The clinic was empty, so we sat in the spotless waiting area while Pedro checked him over. About the only useful thing we could tell the vet was that Pippa's urine looked milky. As Pippa was lying on the floor with his head on Partner's boots, Pedro took a blood sample from his front leg. As Pippadogblog readers will know, he is such a docile dog, and didn't even move.

Then Pedro explained we would have to come back in a couple of days for the results which were being rushed to a lab in Barcelona. He gave me some tablets, and I looked at them puzzled - they were for osteoarthritis. I asked if he had arthritis. Typical medic, Pedro said he didn't know, but Pippa did have some pain in his stomach area, so he needed to take one of these a day.

By the time Saturday came around, Pippa had made a considerable improvement after taking the painkillers. I couldn't believe the difference - to be honest, I'd not expected to be taking him home with us.

Pedro explained the test results, but there was still one outstanding - erlichia canis. He gave me another ten days worth of painkillers, and some extra tablets - doxycyclin - one to be taken each day. When he got the final results through, he said he would contact me as I may need to double the dose of doxycyclin.

We asked what Pedro thought was wrong with him, and he said he thought it was an infection. 'Oh nothing serious then?' said Partner happily. Pedro looked worried and shook his hands in a very Spanish fashion which in this case, indicated that he wouldn't say that at all.

I couldn't see much point in pestering him with questions when he didn't have all the results and I could get back to Gib and do some research on the internet.

It was late Monday when he finally emailed me, apologising for the delay, and saying he had only just got the results through. I needed to double the dose of doxycyclin. The final results were attached as a PDF doc and showed that Pippa had tested positive for erlichia canis.

Blood test results

I was really impressed that these were waiting for us on the Saturday morning printed out for us to take home, and also that the final one was sent as a PDF. I don't think I've ever had so much info from a vet or medic in the UK. Perhaps things have changed?

Here are the key findings from the results. I've included the readings that are well outside the 'normal' range. The first figure is Pippa's reading, the next is the range that it should be within. As you can see, his readings were way too high.

Haematology
Leucocitos 24.96 5.95-17.2
Segmentados 18,620 3,380-11,530
Monocitos 3,245 100-1700

A sample of his blood examined under the microscope was normal.

Protein analysis
Total protein 99 52-76
Total globulins 86.3 20.6-50.6
Alfa-2 globulins 17.3 4.6-9.9
Gamma-globulins 48.3 1.2-20

Finally there were two specific tests.

1) He tested negative for leishmaniasis.

2) His results for erlichia canis were 1/1240. Values up to 1/40 could be produced by illness or some unspecific reaction. Any values higher than 1/40 were to be considered positive.

Before we'd received the final result I'd had chance to read up on his results and on erlichia canis. Classic indicators of the presence of erlichia canis were high levels of protein and leucocytes so it was no great surprise when the final result was a positive one. I should have realised that if it had been straightforward, ie negative, then the result would have been there with the others. Either it was borderline (which it clearly wasn't) or they wanted to double-check the result. In this case it was clearly a very high reading.

Erlichia canis and erlichiosis

So what is it? Technically, erlichia canis is a rickettsia which is an organism mid-way between a bacteria and a virus. It is spread by ticks which, when they bite the dog, spread the organism into the bloodstream, which then reproduces inside the white blood cells. Erlichiosis is the resultant illness. It has a number of different phases. The bad news is it can be fatal. The slightly better news is that it is treatable, and preferably caught sooner rather than later.

The disease has three phases.
1) Acute
2) Sub-clinical
3) Chronic

One thing I found interesting when I was researching on the internet, is that apparently German Shepherds are particularly prone to this disease. Pippa, as far as we know, is part GSD.

There is more than one tick disease - canine babesiosis is another one. I picked up a useful leaflet in the clinic which summarised the two.

Symptoms according to the leaflet:

Canine erlichiosis:

Apathy, vomiting, fever, loss of appetite, and finally, anaemia.

Canine babesiosis:

High fever, tiredness and red urine.

And, on this site here, is a list of all the symptoms under the sun. Whose dog has not suffered from any of these at some point?????

I know there are other tick-borne illnesses that affect dogs eg Lyme disease and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, but I wanted to concentrate on erlichiosis, particularly as it is world wide - and it is the one I needed to know about. Once I had done the research, it seemed sensible to share it.

Treatment

Tablets

Firocoxib

Brand name - Previcox (also Equioxx for horses).

This is a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug (NSAID), manufactured by Merial, which is a COX-2 inhibitor.

A lay explanation about NSAIDs is that they are mainly used as painkillers and as anti-arthritic drugs. Aspirin and ibuprofen are both NSAIDs.

NSAIDs inhibit the enzyme cyclooxygenase, which has three variants called COX-1, COX-2, and although not often mentioned, COX-3.

COX-2 inhibitors however, are a later generation drug and are selective, that means they only target the COX-2 enzyme. So they suppress the pain and inflammation associated with COX-2 while leaving COX-1 alone. Studies suggest, that by not inhibiting COX-1, there is a lower risk of the usual NSAID side effect - gastro-intestinal disorders.

With me? Pharmacology lesson for today is over anyway :)

Doxycyclin

Brand names - Proderma (Industrial Farmacéutica Cantabrica) and Vibricina (Pfizer)

This is an antibiotic and the first choice treatment for tick disease. Again, in lay terms, it prevents the bacteria from reproducing. Not much else to say about that.

Prevention/control

When we first moved to Spain and noticed a load of fleas and ticks, we started off with those little cheap collars for the dogs that prevent fleas and ticks. They didn't prevent either fleas or ticks. We spoke to our neighbours and they suggested the drops. Frontline, Spot-on, whatever you want to call it.

And once we learned about leishmaniasis, we bought leishmaniasis collars. The ones that protect against leishmaniasis for six months, ticks for four and fleas for two. Or something like that.

I read about the drops on the internet. Like all chemical products they can cause side effects. Skin irritations, or worse.

So then what do you do? Add extra chemicals to your dog? Six and two threes. Dose him up with chemicals, or risk infection with parasites, or horrid fleabites for us. Doesn't bear thinking about.

We tried to find a happy medium. Nasty chemicals in the damp warm weather of spring and autumn, leaving all dogs free in the height of hot dry summer and cold dry winter when the nasties aren't around.

In Gib, we have bought Advantix (Bayer).

The two main ingredients in this are permethrin, and imidacloprid. Both are insecticides and neurotoxins. Pyriproxyfen is an insect growth regulator (IGR) that prevents juvenile fleas developing.

In Frontline Plus (Merial) you get fipronil and S-methoprene. Fipronil is classed by the WHO as a Class 11 moderately hazardous pesticide. S-methoprene is the IGR used in the Frontline product.

There are natural alternatives, links below.

We tread a fine line when the lives of our animals and the quality of their lives are in our hands.

Update

We took Pippa back to Pedro after the ten days worth of tablets was finished. He prescribed another 20 days tablets. Although he was no longer taking Previcox as a painkiller, he was taking three capsules of doxycyclin a day. It can take some time to get rid of the organism, so it will be a few months before he has another blood test to see what improvements have been made.

'It's the disease of your pueblo,' added Pedro rolling his eyes.

'There are lots of animals,' I replied, thinking of the horses, donkeys, goats, sheep, pigs, buyo (draught oxen), cows, not to mention feral dogs and cats.

'There are lots of garrapatas (ticks),' he said Spanishly, succinctly cutting to the chase.

He is now doing boundaround for his breakfast, boundaround in the morning when he wants to go out onto his Spanish terrace, and has put on weight. So much so, that we are considering buying a new harness as the current one is extended to the limit. I am talking about Pippa here, not Pedro. I have no idea what Pedro does at breakfast time or whether he does boundaround.

Cost

Our total bill at the vet's was 116.50€ which included the lab analysis and consultation (70€) and the remaining 30 odd euros was for the first lot of tablets. I took a prescription to the pharmacy for the final 50 or 60 capsules, and the cost for those was around 14€.

Sources and links

A clinical article which provides a good summary of E. canis from a technical perspective

Another vet-type article

Written by a vet, but readable for lay people

A short but useful summary

Another good summary

Lots of detail about E.canis

Longer than my post and very good - worth a read, if pretty scary

Some wiki links about the chemicals

Permethrin

Imadoclopryd

Fipronil

Natural ideas

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Commonwealth Day 2011

2011-03-14T11:12:00.006+01:00

Today is a bank holiday in Gib. A very rainy bank holiday to rival even the traditional British rainy bank holiday.

The sort of rainy day where you set off for the shops with Goretex jacket, leggings and walking boots and are wet within five minutes of leaving the house.

It was too wet to stop to take photos on the way down, but on the way back it had eased off somewhat. Typical. If only we'd waited ten minutes or so instead of being our usual early bird selves.

Irish Town

Main Street looking north

Main Street looking south

College Lane

Why is it a bank holiday?

Because it is Commonwealth Day.

While the Commonwealth may well be a legacy of Britain's imperial and colonial days, at least the work it does these days, and the messages given out every year, try to do some good for the people living in Commonwealth countries.

I wrote about it a couple of years ago here, and here is a link to the Commonwealth web site.

This year's theme is Women as Agents of Change. Very good, I say. As this is not my ranty blog, I shall confine myself to that. For now. I may write more elsewhere.

Poster produced by the Commonwealth Secretariat for this year's theme

I would also like to point out that the research undertaken by the staff of Commonwealth Secretary-General Kamalesh Sharma leaves something to be desired. By which I mean his speech is inaccurate. Wrong in fact.

Around the Commonwealth, there are a number of bank holidays today. In Australia, Adelaide, Canberra, Hobart and Melbourne all have a hol, and there are also stock exchange holidays there.

Chittagong in Bangladesh has one to celebrate the World Cup Cricket Match, St Vincent and the Grenadines has Kingstown Bank Holiday to celebrate National Heroes Day, while Uganda has a Kampala Bank Holiday and a currency/stock exchange holiday.

Turks and Caicos, Tuvalu, Virgin Islands and Gibraltar all have a bank holiday specifically to mark Commonwealth Day.

Now I have no idea about any of the others mentioned in the list above that have bank holidays today, whether for Commonwealth Day or other reasons, but I can tell you Gibraltar is pretty quiet. And the schools are not open.

Why do I mention schools? Because in his second paragraph Mr Sharma says:
"Commonwealth Day is celebrated on the second Monday in March, a day when every school in the Commonwealth is open,..."

No. Not here, they aren't sweetie. Give me a job.

Finca renovation (2)

2011-03-13T12:14:00.008+01:00

When we weren't idling on the terrace, watching runners, walking down the beach, or playing Matador - we did manage a little work.

So some more finca renovation photos, and a few garden ones.

The sitting room just needs a coat of anti-mould paint and then it will be finished. Shazam!

Garage and patio doors have been etch-primed and first coated in grey.

Outside walls have had loose and flaking paint scraped off, a coat of sealer and two coats of white exterior masonry paint applied.

The salad patch is doing very nicely although I need to shield the baby plants from the sun ....

..... and here are the results.

More seeds have been sown and had already germinated before we left.

But reluctantly we decided to chop down a nispero tree as its roots are so big it is causing cracks in the wall. Wall falling into street, hitting people on the head, or cars, is not a good scenario.

When the tree had come down, a piece of paper or card fell out. When I moved it again - the thing flew away, looking like some sort of flying prehistoric reptile. And it flew too fast for me to get a pic sadly.

The neighbours are still coming up trumps, one day we got some roasted peppers from them, so I chucked a salad together for a mid-morning brunch when we were working. Olives, capers, tomatoes, cucumber, onion, pimientoes, and parsley.

Here is hibiscus in the flower garden.

And the winter jasmine is finally out, looks lovely and smells divine.

Good books read: Cold Mountain and The Book of Negroes. Reviews later. If I remember.

Moorish Castle

2011-03-08T09:47:00.005+01:00

Those rare few of you who got Christmas cards from me may remember they were taken from historical paintings of Gibraltar.

They were produced by the Gibraltar Heritage Trust and the trust also publishes an excellent calendar based around a specific collection of paintings.

This year's calendar depicts early 19th century Gib, based on a series of watercolours by Lt Frederick Leeds Edridge. He was at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, for which he received the Waterloo Medal and in1920 he joined the Royal Artillery. He was stationed with the Sixth Battalion of the RA in Gib between 1830 and 1834 which is when he painted his Gib watercolours. The collection is now with the Gibraltar Museum.

March's painting shows the Moorish Castle. The current castle site is the result of centuries of rebuilding, extensions and remodelling from the 12th century when the first city was founded and a castle or fortification was built on the hill facing towards Spain.

At the top right of the photo is the Tower of Homage which is open to visit, so below are some photos when we went as a comparison with the watercolour.

The photos of the interior and the very top of the tower were NOT taken by me. I really must pluck up the courage to go up all those ghastly stairs so I can go inside though.

Lt Edridge's painting, September 1834 (worth enlarging)

The castle - Tower of Homage - as it looks today

Queen Charlotte's battery, just before the entrance to the tower

A close-up of the gun

Entering the depths of the tower - look at those stone walls

Looking down to the basement area (no go)

Umm, looking down from the top involving some rickety-looking stairs

Lots of arches inside, but this is not a Moorish window - is it?

Lovely vaulted ceiling

Looking towards Spain across the runway and the road that crosses it

And looking towards Africa

Día de Andalucía

2011-03-05T10:26:00.004+01:00

Doing up fincas is hard work. Luckily Día de Andalucía - February 28 - fell on a Monday, so we allowed ourselves the privilege of a long weekend.

The autonomous communities in Spain celebrate their own special day in different ways and on different days. I suppose it is a bit like Yorkshire Day except that it is acknowledged by local government, and is a bank holiday everywhere throughout Andalucía.

In our village, the local council had organised a race. Although some adults took part, it was primarily aimed at young people.

So, after a walk down to the peaceful and quiet beach, we settled down to await the race which was coming past our house. For some reason most things end up coming past our house - parades, races, the annual romería - so it provides some entertainment without having to move off the terrace.

After watching the plucky kids charging uphill and around the circuit a few times, we felt tired, and decided a game of dominoes was in order.

Appropriately, we settled on Matador, which we'd not played before. The instructions in my domino set tend to be rather vague sometimes, so we had no idea if we were doing it right.

It seems we got the general principle right, and as I won, it was declared to be A Good Game. So much so, that we played it the next day until we realised it was even more tiring thinking about domino strategies than doing up fincas. After that, it was back to the grindstone.

Beach. And sea.

Solitary boat. Solitary palm.

Looking towards Málaga, beach bar - closed - and summer pedalo.

No rest for the wicked. It's just another day for agricultural workers.

A buyo, or maybe a cow (?) at one of the local farms. Not seen this breed here before, how cute.

Piggies and more buyos saying hello.

Happy runners?

Fifth time around the circuit maybe?

Matador. Opening game, think I won that one.

Thai veg green curry

2011-02-23T08:58:00.009+01:00

Searching on the tinties for a Thai veggie recipe, I came across one that seemed to have exactly the combination of ingredients I wanted on About.com

Here it is, with my variations in brackets.

Serves four (hmm, doubt that)

Tofu or chick peas
I green pepper, chopped
Asparagas, chopped, or green beans (I think beans go better)
Handful cherry toms
3/4 can coconut milk (soya)
Veg stock
Thai or sweet basil
Optional: 2/3 kaffir lime leaves (what??!!)

Green curry paste (this is the best bit)
Lemongrass
1/4 can coconut milk (soya milk)
1-3 green chillies
lots of coriander, leaves and stems
1 shallot, chopped (or any onion really)
4-5 cloves garlic
Piece of ginger, sliced
1 tbsp soy sauce (I use tamari)
2 tbsp lime juice (or lemon)
ground cumin
ground coriander
ground pepper
sugar (I ignore that)
salt

1) Zap paste ingredients
2) Add a little oil to pan and then pour paste into it and stir fry for a minute or so to release the fragrance
3) Add tofu or chick peas and stir fry until saturated with sauce
4) Add stock plus lime leaves. Stir, reduce heat and simmer for five mins
5) Add milk, veg and simmer 5-7 mins or until softened (or to personal taste I guess)
6) Serve (with rice. Or noodly things). Sprinkle with the basil, and/or red chilli if you want more spice.

Easy.

I use soya milk instead of coconut because we aren't fans of coconut milk, it's too sweet for our taste. Yeah, I know Thai food is coconutty, but what I wanted was the fresh greeny taste, and the hotness, so the rest of it was perfect for us. If you like stuff slightly sweeter than we do, soya milk sweetened with apple juice is probably a good choice.

The recipe does say you can experiment with other veg. I used Pak Soy yesterday for a change.

Limes don't seem to be very juicy and they are pricey, last time I bought them I needed two and they were 45p each. Yesterday I used lemons instead. They go further.

And I use tofu not chick peas. I daresay if you aren't vegetarian you can add whatever you prefer. It's the green paste that makes this curry so delicious.

In with the new

2011-02-22T11:07:00.004+01:00

There is always something changing in Gib.

You can't walk down Main Street without seeing yet another shop changing hands, and the inside being gutted for a refurb. Or, even in spite of the downturn in the construction business, there are still plenty of flats being built.

Endless changes to the roads, with the Trafalgar interchange finally completed at the end of last year, and the Dudley Ward Tunnel open again, it's now the turn of Devil's Tower Road as work has started on making it into a dual carriageway as part of the new airport development.

Sometimes the smaller developments make just as much difference in daily life though.

The market hall has recently had a revamp. It's a nice old building and could have done with tidying up some time ago. It certainly looks very different now in its - er - new colour scheme, for want of a better description.

But the one thing I liked about it were the entrance pillars that said in the three languages - mercado, market, marché. Gone, demolished. Yes there is some nice open space there, but I loved the trilingual designation of the market.

The new look

Going .. going ....

Regular readers of my blogs will, by now, have decided without a doubt that I have a fixation with bus stops. And buses in general. This may well be the case, but when you use them they become important.

Mostly we walk round Gib but there is the odd occasion when we hop on the bus, (Gus). There is a very good, regular and cheap bus service here. In fact it's a shame more people don't use it instead of clogging up the roads with their cars.

The bus shelter near to us was in bad need of repair though. Of the six or eight panels that provided shelter from the wind and the rain, I think about two remained. It was neither use nor ornament.

Well, suddenly, new bus shelters suddenly started appearing everywhere. Not just at our stop which was in dire need of repair or replacement - but all over Gib. And I have to say that for once, I actually approve of the design. They look very smart. Do hope the panels stay in for a few months, at least.

Old one

Workies taking away the old one, new one lurking just behind

And one of the new ones - our local shelter

One more ....

2011-02-19T08:26:00.003+01:00

A woman can never have too many blogs in my opinion.

So here is my new one.

Every picture tells one

NO!! It is not a photo blog as such, although there will be a photo on every post, apart from the initial intro one.

And to go with the randomly chosen pic, will be an anecdote to add some context.

That's it. Enjoy.

Finca renovation

2011-02-18T11:04:00.012+01:00

There are some people who can not resist walking past peeling paper or paint, and ripping off the offending piece. I am one of them.

I think the attraction to ripping off and ripping out is that you can appear to achieve an awful lot of work in a short amount of time at the cost of a little energy. And you get to make a lot of mess too, so I had a fine time at the finca last week.

The problem is, that trying to maintain two properties a few hundred miles apart and balancing work commitments of 60 or 70 hour weeks, with no weekends off, inevitably means that one (or both) get somewhat abandoned.

We'd painted the outside of the finca last summer, but the inside has been sadly neglected.

In both Gib and Spain, the wet and humid winter weather inevitably leads to damp walls, and, with all the dust around - the damp spores and the mould start to grow.

So winter means regular washing of the dark spots. We've used Johnstone's anti-mould paint in Gib and it has been pretty good at keeping it at bay, but once the winter deluges start, so does the creeping mould.

Inspired by our efforts in Gibflat though, I decided to start on the interior finca walls. The outside faces west, and if there is a torrential deluge with a westerly wind - it starts to chupa through.

Well, much to my utter surprise, the walls started cleaning up very nicely. Now why hadn't I done this before, I wondered. [And no, it wasn't because I was time-wasting on Facebook, because I have no internet in Spain]. It could have been because I was cycling, or walking, or swimming (summer), or gardening, or anything but doing boring stuff inside the house when it is so nice outside.

Partner was impressed with my efforts - for once - and rushed to help with the ceiling. Once started there was no stopping us. The walls and ceiling were scrubbed clean in the sitting room and then I started on the destructive work. All loose and flaking paint and half the walls was merrily hacked off by me, and he began the slower and somewhat more skilled process of putting back.

So progress in a week or so:

Draughts - I won - and the board never came out again after the first day

Sitting room walls washed down, remaining loose plaster hacked off, holes rendered with sand and cement, and smaller ones with some Easi-Fill that we had kicking around. Then a coat of Benjamin Moore acrylic primer sealer was applied.

Clean wall

Sealing the stains

Outside walls were rendered, and a big hole in our path was repaired with concrete [Bren might have fallen down there], the walls were sealed, and coated over with a couple of coats of masonry paint.

Polishing the rendering

Completed path, painted walls

Dining room and bedroom walls were also destroyed where appropriate, waiting to be filled on the next renovation trip. The mess on the floor in the bedroom pix is a mixture of paint, cal (limewash), plaster, and some render.

Admiring my ~~mess~~ work

Ah yes, very good

My ~~mess~~ work on the other side of the bed

Waiting for next time

We probably did something else too but all I can remember is working, sleeping, and eating. Put it this way, I took the usual supply of books and came back with them unread.

And ...... I cropped the first lot of rocket and lettuce leaves. Very good. I bought some of the local fresh asparagus that can be found growing wild in secret places - if you know where they are - that the Spanish always get to first, and learned that you need to chop off considerable amounts of hard chewy stems and concentrate on using the tips. Also helps to blanch/parboil it first if you want to use it in paella. Which I did.

Salad leaves

Wild asparagus

Food for hungry workers

Paella

The winter jasmine - still not quite in bloom

Spanish Civil War

2011-02-13T14:02:00.008+01:00

I picked up a free local paper in Spain as you do, and noticed that this month there were marches of homage in La Axarquía to victims of the Spanish Civil War who died on the road from Málaga to Almeria. They take place on three Sundays of this month, in various parts of the locality, with the second today from El Borge to Torre del Mar at some 16kms. It ends with an act of homage in the Memorial Park in Torre.

Here is a good link to this particular episode in the Civil War, and I have reproduced the last few pars which explain the tortuous exodus of the Republicans from Málaga.

'The Nationalist forces approached Malaga on the 5th of February, 1937. They were comprised of some 10,000 North Africans, 5,000 Requetes (right-winged Militias), 5,000 Italians and plentiful supplies of trucks and artillery. They had only a few tanks and planes, but they used them with maximum effectiveness in the virtual absence of organised opposition. The Republicans were out-manned, under-supplied, and overly-divided.

'On February 6th over 100,000 people were forced to make a mass exodus along the coastal road to Almeria. The road was blocked by slow vehicles and wounded people. Fascist air attacks and navy bombardment took their toll on the civilians. Many dropped along the way. Terrified villagers along the way did their best to defend the little food and water that they had but the numbers of the refugees and their need were too great.

'It took two long weeks for the "Caravan of the Dead" (as the event became known) to reach Almeria. Here they found temporary help but Almeria was doomed to fall as well. Thousands had died along the way. The fall of Malaga and the ensuing evacuation of Republican civilians marked one of the lowest marks of the Spanish Civil War in Andalucia. One source reports that truck drivers were still finding the bones of some of those who had fled Malaga well into the 1960s.

'Republicans who remained in the provincial capital fared even a worse fate. Thousands of them were taken to areas like San Raphael Cemetery, shot, and left to rot in unmarked graves. Some 3600 people found their end in this manner and their families never heard from them again. The cemetery at San Raphael (now unused and close to the airport) is now the site of an exhumation of these bodies in attempt to bring some type of closure to still grieving families under the Zapatero government's Law of Historical Memory. The wounds of the past still remain close to the surface.'

In the same paper, there was a separate article about the communal graves in Andalucía. There were more than 600 of these in the whole of Andalucía, and an estimated 50,000 people people were shot by the Nationalists (franquistas). The grave in Málaga of San Raphael, is the largest in Spain, with the remains of up to 3,000 people. (The above link quotes a higher figure, but as the newspaper is pretty recent, I will go with around 3,000. Ai! the problems of being a historian and encountering different information from different sources).

Which brings me neatly onto the subject of novels/autobiographies about the Spanish Civil War.

Since moving to Spain I have tried - without success - to track down a copy of George Orwell's 'Homage to Catalonia'. I'm not one for reading online, but I've found this.

However, at my local library, I found another two Civil War books. Ernest Hemingway's classic, moving, and sad novel 'For Whom The Bell Tolls'. And Laurie Lee's three-volumed autobiography, Red Sky at Sunrise.

We read the ghastly Cider with Rosie at school and it bored me rigid. Reading about someone's childhood memoirs in some village down south at the beginning of the 20th century was total yawnsville. However some 30+ years on I really enjoyed it. Clearly not a novel for young teenies but one for middle agedies. The next volume was 'As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning' which recounts his trip from his childhood village to London where he worked as a labourer on a building site, and then he upped and offed to Spain - which he walked through from north to south, and included a detour to Gib. Rather him than me walking through Spain in the heat of the sun, but it made a great read having been to most of the places. The third and final volume 'A Moment of War' describes his time when he volunteered in the Spanish Civil War (for the Republicans). Another fascinating read.

I recommend both the Hemingway and the whole Lee trilogy. I'm still searching for Homage to Catalonia, and another Lee book, 'A Rose For Winter' about his travels in Andalucia fifteen years after the war.

January garden in Spain

2011-01-29T12:25:00.006+01:00

Or at least, coastal Andalucia in January. When the UK is frozen solid or at least under blankets of snow, here in sunny Spain we have daytime temperatures in the late teens and early 20s in winter.

This means with mild temperatures and rain - gardening!! Not just tidying up and waiting for snowdrops and crocuses, but planting veg and salad crops. Our fallow season is summer when it is just too hot and arid for crops.

Come autumn, the fields around us are suddenly ploughed over again and busy field workers are out there putting in tiny plants by hand. When I see their beautiful lettuces planted out, I suddenly realise it is time for me to plant some too. Except I am too tight to buy plantlets, so put seeds in. And I actually like growing things from seed - when they germinate.

Not sure I will buy seeds from Eroski again, Chase Organics, this is what I really need, and where I used to source my seeds in the UK. Of course, the fact that half of mine haven't germinated could be a) due to the fact that I planted them too late and b) they got washed away as it chucked it down not long after I sowed the seeds. Nor is it very helpful when there is a chart on the back telling you when to plant things out - but doesn't talk about where in Spain. The climate in the north might as well be the UK - there is a huge difference between Galicia, Asturias, Pais Vasco/Euskadi, and Cantabria in the north, and Andalucia in the far south.

Anyways, so far I seem to have acquired a few cos lettuces, some reddish ones, and hopefully some rocket. There is an irritating weed in Spain that looks like rocket - but it doesn't normally grow in straight lines, or does it? We shall see. I stuck some more seeds in this weekend for the hell of it. Oh, and I have a couple of onions coming too. And the robust chilli plant is still flowering and producing the odd green chilli.

Rocket? maybe? some lettuce- hopefully? and chilli plants

Red lettuce

Lots of baby spinach/acelgas/Swiss chard (and lots of weeds)

A nice looking green lettuce here, hope they grow

Onto flowers. Well, the summer jasmine is still gracing the terrace in the depths of January, and the winter jasmine is about to come into bloom. Normally they don't overlap. They have some complicit agreement whereby the one agrees to suddenly stop flowering exactly as the other one comes out. The plumbago continues to flower, although I've pruned it well back, and the marguerites are tough as old boots and are blooming yet again. I must have chucked out hundreds of mini-plants that had germinated from seeds. Ojalá the lettuces germinated as well as the marguerites did.

The money tree - will we get lots this year perhaps?

The weeds, I mean marguerites

Faded summer jasmine

And budding winter jasmine

Ravioli unravelled

2011-01-25T11:37:00.005+01:00

Inspired by an Australian friend's photos of the most delicious home-made ravioli, I decided it was time to have another go at making pasta dough.

It's some years since I tried it, and it was pretty unremarkable, not worth repeating so it was back to buying the hard shop bought stuff, that always worked perfectly well anyway, invariably in lasagna or as canneloni.

Over the years, I've managed to get the hang of most floury and/or eggy sort of things. Shortcrust pastry was made with the help of a French recipe book, a lot of butter and a Kenwood Chef. After success with that I decided to go for puff pastry - no Jus-Rol for me like mummy, oh no. Result - a gorgeous mushroom jalousie one evening, don't think I've ever made it since.

I did try croissants which is a similar technique to the puff pastry, ie enfolding the butter and rolling out, but they never seemed to fluff up enough. Yeast was obviously beyond me at that point. Egg things were ticked off the list too - omelettes, soufflés, hollandaise sauce - but not home-made mayonnaise. That was about as unsuccessful as croissants. My mum could do it, but rarely did, preferring to open a jar of Hellman's.

Bread was beyond me, although Partner managed to suss it out and kept us in a regular supply of wholemeal loaves. One week in a September some years ago, I had a week off. What to do? He was working so I had an idle week ahead of me. I decided I WOULD learn to make bread. I tried lots of recipes from a very good bread book, and eventually cracked it. The Rayburn probably helped too for rising and proving the dough, and the granite surface for working the dough.

From then on, I would come in from work and every other day would be bread-making evening. I'd chuck the dough together, make tea, eat tea, doze off, and usually remember to get the bread out before I fell into bed. Like the pastry, I started off using the Kenwood, but in the end it was as easy to do it all by hand. We bought huge sacks of flour - around 15kg that were delivered by mail order. Pizza, foccaccia, you name it, I made it.

Making bread in Spain was a bit of a shock - there is no strong flour - or not where I live. Plenty of yeast from Mercadona but using ordinary flour doesn't taste the same. So I stopped.

But the one thing I did learn in Spain - was mayonnaise. I finally cracked it with the help of a Spanish pal who happened to be a chef. As I watched him, I realised where I had always gone wrong, it was easy really. The egg yolk (he only used one) has to be really thick. Simple as that. It only took me 40+ years to learn how to do it. And the annoying thing was, when I looked at one of my (French) cook books, it gave some incredibly helpful and lengthy advice about how to make perfect mayo - and retrieve it when it doesn't work out. And the trick to that is - French mustard. I use Dijon - Grey Poupon.

As for mayo, I did start with baby steps by making one that includes a hard boiled yolk as well as a raw one. But when you have the feel for the consistency it works ok.

I give you this incredibly long preamble to point out that I am not totally incompetent in the kitchen, so pasta dough (it doesn't even involve yeast) should not be beyond me.

I decided on green ravioli stuffed with three cheeses. Seemed straightforward enough. First I did the easy bit and made the mushroom and tomato sauce. Next, cooked the spinach on low and just in the washing water. I think it was a 140 gram bag. Next I mixed the cheeses in a bowl with for some reason, an egg.

Finally the dough. Here are the quantities:
• 13oz flour (white/wholemeal/mixed)
• 2 eggs
• 200 grams spinach - as I was short I added less flour, I think (!)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt which I left out as too idle to add it.

I should add that I have no scales in the flat - but I can usually guestimate the flour pretty well. Except on this occasion either I didn't, or .....?

After mixing it all up into a soft ball (yes, very soft) and kneading it, you are meant to stick it in a damp cloth to rest for half an hour. Didn't feel like ruining a tea towel, so stuck it in greaseproof in the fridge. Works ok for pastry, although in retrospect this is not pastry, but I doubt that was the critical factor.

And then I rolled it out. Ha!! I say, rolled it out, but what I really mean is that I smeared spinach and flour all over the board and tried to make it look remotely like a sheet of pasta dough.

I stuck a small helping of cheesy stuff at strategic spots on the 'dough' and attempted to put the other 'sheet' on top to start enclosing the ravioli. Well, it worked after a fashion. But the raviolis were huge. For the ones that were just total slop I chucked some more flour around and rolled them into dumplings.

Next up, cooking the blasted things. Cook in plenty of boiling salted water for 5-6 minutes until tender. Oh no. I don't think so at all. Neither the few lumps masquerading as ravioli or the ones that had been mutated into dumplings wanted to cook until tender at all.

I think we ate two of them. The sauce was ok. Fortunately. I loathe tripe. You know how it is when you put a piece in your mouth and chew it and it just gets bigger and bigger and more and more chewy? This was not dissimilar.

We considered frying them up for breakfast, and there was a little sauce left too. We don't like throwing things out so we did. They were slightly better, which is hardly saying a great deal.

'They weren't bad fried up,' I said brightly.

'I don't think I'd be wanting them for breakfast every day,' he replied.

I doubt I will be attempting that one again in a hurry.

Start of the ops, the dough mix and the cheese mix

The 'dough' rolled out

The dumpling/ravioli balls before cooking

Here however, is a picture of some delicious lasagna using shop bought pasta. Can't remember what was in it, probably courgette, aubergine, onion, tomato sauce, and the topping is creme fraiche and veg cheese. I went through a phase of using creme fraiche instead of white sauce as - er, it was faster, easier and meant one pan less to wash. Thought I would leave you with a success pic to salvage my fragile ego.

Shampoo

2011-01-23T16:11:00.013+01:00

(In which our heroine admits her culpability regarding her ethics)

Those of you who know me - and my views on make-up, cosmetics and the whole so-called beauty industry - may be surprised at this post.

But as hair washing is not about changing, aka improving your appearance, but is basic hygiene and cleanliness, I don't feel a twinge of guilt in choosing this as a topic.

Of course, the shampoos I look for are not remotely basic.

Let's go through the check list. Here are our criteria, by which I mean mine:

▪ is not tested on animals, at any stage in the manufacture, and that includes ingredients sourced from elsewhere, ie the original raw materials
▪ does not contain any animal products, ie I don't want to wash my hair in dead animals
▪ is preferably vegan, vegetarian at the very least
▪ doesn't contain sodium lauryl sulphate (SLS) or sodium laureth sulphate (SLES)
▪ in fact preferably does not contain any artificial detergents, synthetic perfumes, any petrochemical product ... you get the idea
▪ oh, and some organic bits in there would be cool too
▪ and it should be an ethical company
▪ and if all of that isn't enough, cheap would be good. Unlikely though given the above list.

Sadly in life we all have to compromise. Even me.

Some years ago, visiting the UK, I bought some shampoo made by a company named Original Source. I was somewhat surprised to discover the same shampoo on sale here in Morrisons in Gibraltar. It was vegan and not tested on animals and all the rest. It wasn't badly priced. It did have far too many chemicals in though - I wonder if it did originally? Can't remember. It smelled nice, and left me with soft fluffy hair. And then Morries stopped selling it. Although they intermittently sold the body/hair wash stuff for men (why are men different? huh?) and shower gel for women.

Either way, I had dropped one. When I examined the container, not only was it definitely oozing SLS/SLES but it was also now owned by PZ Cussons (as of 2002/3). As soon as a really good individual company gets taken over by a multi-national - you might as well kiss its arse goodbye. You are no longer supporting an ethical moral company that was set up with decent principles, you are just funding yet another global pharmaceutical animal-testing crap company. (Useful link) And one that got into supplying evaporated milk and milk powder to Nigeria. Remember all the fuss about Nestlé? And how about PZ Cussons closing the UK Nottingham factory in 2005 to relocate operations to Thailand? Great for the local economy in the UK huh?

[Slight digression here. Who was not brought up with Imperial Leather soap? I tell you, we had the stuff overflowing in the house. Bars of it everywhere. The Cussons story is fascinating, so more of that later. Suffice to say PZ, a Greek company took Cussons over in 1975.]

So luckily I have had to find other shampoos. First up a Neem one that was a shampoo conditioner in one. Very good. Except I tended to use conditioner with it anyway. House of Mistry or something.

Have I yet mentioned the infallible law that always states shampoo runs out well before conditioner? My good friend Otter pointed that one out. Didn't help that I had just finished three different shampoos by the pesky OS/PZC company when Morries stopped stocking it and I had three half containers of conditioner left for now non-existent matching shampoo.

Well the Neem one ran out, eventually. Lasted ages and most good too. Didn't even realise it was for hair and scalp conditions whatever they are.

So the latest one is - if you have got this far - Desert Essence. First up, it isn't cheap. I don't consider £6.99 cheap when the OS stuff was less than three quid. But it does tick virtually every other single box on the list. Even if it smells like a cross between floor and furniture polish. That is unkind of me, suspect it is the antiseptic nature of tea tree oil. Possibly. And suitably disguised when I pile on yet more of the never-ending OS conditioners that I still haven't finished.

Oh and the real plus? It leaves my long, brown, wavy, scruffy hair looking fluffy and clean. Not lank and dismal like some shampoos. Not that I am vain or anything, or even care about my appearance particularly. Oh no. Not me. Perhaps I will pay more and shower less .......

Post script

Some friends have made a couple of suggestions ..

So thanks to Jill for suggesting baking powder - there is lots on the internet at a quick search for anyone who wants to know more about using that, and to Vicky for her link to ecohamster which is an interesting site that I haven't seen before. Cheers both of you.

In which our heroine keeps her cool - just

2011-01-06T10:44:00.008+01:00

It would be helpful, if bank staff could actually tell people that if they don't collect their cash card within a certain time they will destroy it. This may be particularly pertinent over the Christmas period, when gosh! shock! people may actually go away for a few days.

Or, how it went:

23 December c 6pm

Goes to cash machine to get out money. Machine eats card.

24 December before 12 noon (note this is Christmas Eve)

Go to collect card with little slip from machine.

Card not available as machine doesn't get emptied until end of working day - I'd fallen between two days.

Cashier informs me card will be available on Wed (Dec 29).

.....

Go to Spain after Christmas and return to Gib in New Year

.....

6 January

Feeling organised with all holiday stuff out of the way so trot off to bank once more.

Cashier takes some considerable time going to retrieve card but comes back and tells me it has been destroyed.

'The ATM Officer destroys them after five working days if they haven't been collected or there isn't a note to save them. It was captured on the 24th (23rd from my point of view) so it was destroyed on the 4th,' she said most unhelpfully.

Hello! How many working days is that? 29th, 30th, probably half a day on 31st - and destroyed on the next working day - the 4th???????

And what was the point in arguing? None whatsoever. Would achieve Jack Shit Nada apart from pissing off the cashier. Never mind that I was pissed off.

Could I have some money? Of course.

She couldn't find the account. Groan.

Eventually she found it, and I was despatched to the self-service telephone to order a new card.

This is where it all turned surreal.

Back in August/September when everything was stolen we obviously had to order new bank cards. Sadly I had a slight problem back then because my mother's maiden name was not her maiden name, so to speak, ie the one I had given the bank had been registered as something totally different. Nor was it my memorable word. Let me give you an example in case this is not clear. Imagine my mother's maiden name was Smith, and the memorable word is holiday. It was down on the bank forms as Saga. Huh? Where did that come from? I hope the computer operator who keyed in my details really enjoyed fucking things up for me.

Needless to state back then, I failed the security check and was treated as A Very Suspicious Character. I finally managed to extract some forms from the UK office to correct all my details and took them into the bank four months ago. Note: FOUR months ago.

Well, lo and fucking behold. When I rang up today? Guess what?

'Mother's maiden name, please.'

'Actually, it's my memorable word - holiday.'

'Er no.'

'OK (I didn't remember including my mother's maiden name on the change of details form, but anyway) my mother's maiden name is Smith.'

Long pause. Intake of breath at other end and ...'No.'

'Oh don't tell me it's Saga,' I almost screamed in disbelief.

Yes,' said the operator, obviously wondering why my mother had two maiden names and why I was sounding wound up about it.

I bored the operator with the story. I think she was laughing. She agreed to send out a new card.

I'm beginning to think I will stick with Saga.

... and New Year's Day

2011-01-03T17:17:00.008+01:00

A lie-in. For no reason other than it was New Year's Day and we had nothing planned. Plus it had been a lovely evening.

But wait. What is that noise? Music? At 5.30, and er 6.30, and er every .30. The bar down the beach was obviously partying on in big style.

Early rising Partner dragged himself out of bed at some unearthly hour as is his habit due to lighting fires at 5.30am in the Welsh Valleys as a kid before he did his paper round.

I drifted in and out of sleep. After all, I have caught a pesky cold from our host on Boxing Day (so did everyone else).

'Shall we go back to Gib?' asks Partner brightly while I am trying to snooze. [Er, no, I am asleep and sick].

'Or we could go and get that cache at Comares?' he asks equally brightly. Ah, the one I couldn't find that he maintains he would find at the drop of a hat.

I realised what this was about. He didn't want to sit around getting annoyed at the noisy music - which wasn't down the beach at all - it was at the big finca across the road where they must have been partying on since midnight NYE.

I sprung into Lively New Year Mode. Ate pineapple (Christmas present from a Gib neighbour - forgot to mention that as it arrived Christmas Evening) and some heavily alcoholic grapes full of anis prepared a few months earlier by me.

Off we went. Up towards the hill in the sky yet again. I had mixed views about going for this irritating cache. If we had gone again in 2010 would we have found it or not? Bad year, another indicator of that or possibly a predictor of a crap 2011? Or if we had found it - would 2011 be good? Or if we didn't find it today - another bad year in store? But a find might indicate a bit of luck surely?

Well despite the fact that I had wasted hours up there the last time - Partner found it within minutes.

Smug finder of the cache

I have to say I was pleased about that. I would never have found it without the 'spoiler' pic. I may never have found it with the pic as my arms are not so long and my head for heights when leaning over even the tiniest of drops is non-existent.

Wandering around Comares afterwards

We also noticed there are some great walks around Comares, so need to think about planning a walking day or half-day up there.

And it was so quiet on the roads. So utterly tranquil. Most of Spain, or at least La Axarquia, apart from the usual old men on their normal daily paseo (walk), were obviously in bed after the revelries of the night before.

We came back home, chilled and relaxed, and ready for the trip back to Gib the next day.

In the evening as we wandered out with our dog, I heard some lovely music drifting across the village. The Hallelujah chorus? From Handel's Messiah? Not what I would normally expect in my Andalucian pueblo. Where I come from in Yorkshire it is very popular, preferably sung by the Huddersfield Choral Society. But to hear it in Andalucia drifting across the village on New Year's Day?

I skipped off to investigate. Eventually I found the source of the music. It was the Living Belen or whatever it is called, a Live Nativity I suppose. It's been going a few years now in our pueblo, initially free, then there was a charge of €5 or so, and now money is short again, it is free to watch so I wandered in for the last few minutes. It was good, and well-attended. It made a nice end to a good New Year's Day.

The final nativity scene of the Belen

Very best wishes to everyone for 2011 and hoping I have a bit more space and less stress in my life to post more this year on my blog. Feliz Año Nuevo.

New Year's Eve .....

2011-01-03T11:10:00.005+01:00

I was looking forward to New Year's Eve.

Actually I was looking forward to 2011. It seems, that for a lot of us, 2010 has not been the best of years.

The journalist in me usually enjoys doing a review of the year. I think I'll skip quickly over this one and mention a few of the reasons that haven't so far been included on this blog.

After a disagreement on a job early this year Partner left that job. A few weeks later all the windows on our vehicle were vandalised leaving the vehicle undriveable. I have no idea if the two were connected.

Moving swiftly on to summer. On one of our trips back from the finca in Spain, we stopped as usual to let the dog out and give him a drink of water in the back of the vehicle. Meanwhile, some toerag sneaked into the front - this is a van body so you can't see the front from the back - and stole our bags with passports, ID, money - everything really. Not to mention my contact lenses, a nice pair of gold ear-rings, favourite Cross pen, Swiss Army Knife etc etc.

In the heat of the August sun, we left the autovia and searched for the nearest police station to make a report. It was too hot to leave the dog in the vehicle, so Partner went to find a shady parking spot and then sat outside with the dog while I braved the policia.

It seemed the whole world wanted to file reports at the police station - it is a popular activity after all. The nice officer at the station wasn't sure whether the denuncio would get us across the frontier. Great. No passports for any of us, including the dog, no ID cards, and no money. But it worked. The Spanish police let us through, helpfully saying - 'but you can't come back without passports'. So if the Gib police didn't let us in, we would be stuck between the two for ever and a day. Luckily they did.

So there we were grounded in Gib. And just a couple of weeks later, we were due to celebrate our Silver Wedding. I'm not sure that we would have gone out of Gib anyway, but as we were waiting for all our replacement papers to be processed we had no choice.

Our wedding was pretty small, just us, two invited witnesses and a couple of gatecrashers - they were known to us - but we hadn't planned on inviting anyone to the Register Office apart from the obligatory two. For our 25th, there was definitely just the two of us. I meant to write about it on here, but, somehow it's nicer to keep some things private. In our typical low-key fashion, we went down to Europa Point, the most southerly tip of Gibraltar and gazed across the Straits of Gib to Africa, and across the Bahia of Algerias towards southernmost Spain.

I thought about our wedding 25 years ago in Sydney (Australia), and everything that had happened in the intervening time. I defy anyone who's married not to have their moments when they wonder if they will make the next anniversary let alone a milestone one. But here we were in Gibraltar 25 years on, which oddly reminds us both of Sydney. Not least because we live in a tiny flat again.

Looking back on the year, that's the one day that stands out for me as being memorable in a pleasant way.

Moving on to December and our dog suddenly seemed to deteriorate. Before 8am we had put him in the vehicle and we were rushing back to see his vet in Spain where he is registered and who had seen him only the previous week for annual jabs. After a couple of days of waiting for the results of a blood test, it turned out he had very high levels of white blood cells and proteins - indicative of erlichia canis. Another couple of days and the confirmation was through that he had tested positive for that and we immediately had to double his dose of doxycyclin.

I have to say this news probably coloured my views about Christmas and my lack of interest in it. Erlichiosis can kill and cause a number of other illnesses depending on how far it has progessed. But for dog people out there, more on this later. Thanks at this point to everyone for their comments on my gloomy Christmas post, I did appreciate them all.

We'd agreed on no Christmas presents this year, a bit like no Silver Wedding presents. Seems a bit silly spending a load of money on presents when money is thin on the ground - another downer of the year, like many people I suppose. On Boxing Day, we went over to our neighbours' luncthime buffet and enjoyed a lovely afternoon. I guess it cheered us both up a bit and made the holiday slightly less of a non-event.

And for New Year's Eve, we were at the finca. Less fireworks for the dog than in Gib, a nice log fire, and fresh asparagus with beurre blanc for supper. So, my somewhat different annual review and ... onto 2011.

Christmas

2010-12-24T13:41:00.005+01:00

I used to love Christmas. Who didn't? Well people who got very little I suppose.

But I got loads. Loads and loads. There was no big family Christmas get together or meal or anything like that, sometimes just the two grandmothers were there, with my father drinking, in the hopes that eventually they would disappear in front of his eyes.

I loved waking up to my stocking so early in the morning. It was a large stocking and had lots and lots of goodies in it. It always had clementines and some new coins in the bottom. My godmother, an older cousin, had got some made for us all and it had my name on it. In glitter.

One year, I sprung my mother bringing it in, to place it on the end of my bed. I then realised Santa didn't bring my stocking but I knew he still came down the chimney to bring me all my presents.

He lined them down the staircase, all around the sitting room, in the hall, and - when I forgot to look in the dining room - my parents pointed out that he had put presents against all the walls in there.

Kind Santa. But when my parents knew that I had tumbled to the stocking wheeze they inadvertently let out that he didn't come down the chimney either.

That moment of disillusionment is pretty sad. There are others in life too, but no Santa ranks pretty highly.

We never got our tree early. We didn't do the tree up on Christmas Eve thing like my mother's family did, but it was always after their birthdays in mid December and usually bought on the last Saturday before Christmas.

We had an old (well, 1930s) house, so it was high enough for a big tree. The Saturday when the tree was bought, my mum and I would decorate the tree in the evening, with the record player playing our favourite Christmas carols.

All the precious and some very old and treasured ornaments were carefully hung. Most - rare - breakages were caused by wagging dogs' tails but not when we were decorating. Then the lights, the tinsel (which my mother loathed), and finally the lovely fairy at the top of the tree.

How I loved that night. Even taking it down by Epiphany wasn't sad because I could always look forward to next year. Next Christmas. There would always be one.

On Boxing Day, my mother would always give me an extra present. Christmas didn't end for me on Christmas Day - she made sure that the holiday and the giving extended. There was no let-down after Chrismas Day, there was something else to look forward to.

Many years later, Partner and I visited them in their new old bungalow (which all old people buy) at Christmas. No tree. No decorations. No interest in it. Christmas was always about giving their little girl what they had never had.

And me? Well I'm the same now with my minimalist non-existent Christmas. I have no kids, no parents, no family. What does that lovely Christmas of my childhood mean now? It went a long time ago. Not only that, but December brings back so many memories of my parents, their birthdays on consecutive days (just like mine and Partner's), the last time I saw my mum in December the year before she died, and my father, who was rushed into hospital on Christmas Eve just before he died shortly afterwards. I remember, too, that Boxing Day when I started my trek back to the UK to see my dying father for the last time. link to earlier blog post here

i would put up a tree if I had the space. I do like the trees. Even small ones can look so pretty. But otherwise? Christmas is a bit of an inconvenience because the shops are shut for too long.

Comares

2010-12-13T23:58:00.007+01:00

Comares is on the roof of the world, or at least the roof of La Axarquia.

Some 735m high, it virtually teeters on top of a hill, inland from the coast about 25 kms. From all around you can see this fairy tale pueblo perching precariously on top of its hillside. Mountain would be a better word.

That's where we're heading. Up there.

Getting nearer to our destination.

Perching on top of the hill.

Looking down on the hills from our eyrie. We might as well be in a 'plane.

Looking across, still higher than they are though.

The population of Comares is officially less than 2000. Not surprisingly. Why anyone would want to live there is beyond me. It is an excellent visit for a touristy day out - quaint town, superb views, panoramic scenery - takes ages to get to, and miles off the beaten track. But that's Spain for you.

Our first visit there left me clinging onto the side of our trusty Santana Land Rover as we wound perilously ever and upwards towards the sky. Vertigo kicked in big time.

Partner helpfully pointed out that he had known someone else like me before. Seems our heads can't take in the ascent as rapidly as it is made. Figures. So he slowed right down and we crawled painfully up the never-ending hillside. Round and round and up and up and .... well you get the idea.

Eventually we arrived. Was I ever glad to fall out of the vehicle and hit terra firma. Even if I was worried about falling off the edge of it.

The pueblo is pretty. Usual quaint white town stuff. Winding Moorish streets, old castle and not much else. Oh, lots of pretty flowers outside peoples' houses which never seem to get nicked.

Pretty floral patios.

Up to the castillo.

Arty photo.

Looking back to the village from the castillo.

Looking across the hills from the castillo.

Early this year someone hid a geocache in the castle grounds. Did I really want to have a vertiginous experience to go all the way back up there just to find some tiny bit of treasure? Truth was, no. Especially when someone else got the so-called desirable First To Find. (ie the first person to find the new cache).

But then someone else hid one part way up the hill, and after a few days, still no-one had found it. As I said, Comares is hardly on the road to anywhere.

The pesky road had to be braved again. It wasn't worth it for one cache, but two - and a FTF? Sadly, yes. So off we embarked on the evil drive to the sky. But time does strange things to us. The evil drive was not so bad after all. In fact, I even looked out of the window. It wasn't as bad as I remembered and we chugged gaily upwards. I jumped out happily to find the first cache and was totally delirious to be the first to find, although not so delirious to discover there were no goodies in the tat treasure hidey thing.

Off we went to park at the edge of town to find the other one in the castle. This was a successful day was it not? Partner stayed at the horrendous mirador - my vertigo couldn't quite cope with that - while I skipped off happily around the windy streets saying hola to all and sundry.

My geocatzing dog at the mirador - appears to be asleep here. Five seconds later he wasn't when he spotted the cat under the car.

And in the distance - the sea.

And of course - I couldn't find it. I spent ages traipsing up and down and around the levels of the castle and got nowhere. I tried to look up the geocaching website on the mobile to check out the spoiler pic and couldn't get reception.

I went back to find Top Geocaching Partner. He refused to come, on the grounds there could be cats in the old castle area and Cat Chasing Dog would be On Safari. Cat Chasing Dog emphasised the point by promptly finding one under a car at the mirador, nearly pulling Partner on his back on the urgent cat safari. Daktari?

CCD and TGP stalked off haughtily back towards the cat-free vehicle area. And naturally promptly found another cat. Hey boys, why didn't you come to help me with the cache? There were less cats up there.

I went back up, on the now fruitless search. A total Did Not Find. Well no caches, but found - plenty of cats. The joys of geocatzing. So yet another detour up to the roof of the world is called for to find this dratted cache. Maybe next time I shall take a book, sit in the Landy with naughty Cat Chasing Dog, and let Top Geocaching Partner go and find it. That's assuming he can even find the castle.

The windy windy road down the hill.

A view of the cache spot - coming down to it.

One of soooo many hairpin bends.

Social calling

2010-12-04T09:35:00.004+01:00

Our neighbours had a visitor the other day.

But it seemed they were out. Sad monkey ....

.... so he climbed down the drainpipe and off he went - to drive or to walk though?

Booties from Bourgeois Boheme

2010-11-26T16:32:00.006+01:00

A quick post-script to the last post.

My new booties arrived today from Bourgeois Boheme.

They are excellent and just what I wanted.

Very helpful and prompt service - order to delivery from UK to Gib achieved in four days. Very good. Especially as it is raining here today.

I was so pleased I ordered another two pairs in slightly different designs. A woman needs a lot of boots in wet weather.

Gib tales (3) Tax free zone - and dog coats

2010-11-22T14:37:00.007+01:00

Gibraltar is a VAT free zone. VAT for non-British readers is value added tax, the equivalent of Spanish IVA, or basically a sales/service tax.

Por eso, or rather, for this reason, fags, spirits and petrol are dirt cheap here. Well, petrol isn't as dirt cheap as it was, but it's still cheaper than it is in Spain.

Most weekends Spaniards happily cross the border to fill up with all the above. I think perfume is probably included in the list of cheap buys too but that isn't one of my addictions. Neither are any of the others I hasten to add.

Now, because we are VAT free, this means that when ordering goodies from the good old UK - because there is a limited choice of shopping in a population of 30,000 people - we should not be charged VAT.

I've primarily bought Land Rover stuff, books, small parts, larger parts and never had a problem. I've also bought boots and shoes from the excellent Ethical Wares (of which more on another post), again totally VAT free.

Although we don't have to pay VAT, we do have to pay import duty on some products, the rate is either 6 or 12 %, either way, it's less than 17.5% VAT, going up to 20% as of next year I understand.

So, I was singularly displeased when trying to buy a dog coat for my rather large dog who gets very wet going out in sub-tropical rain, to find two companies refusing to deduct the VAT.

Pippa is getting on in years and basically we don't want him getting cold and wet in his old age and getting poorly. So I looked at some pretty expensive and good quality coats.

One of my dog friends gave me a couple of suggestions and some info about coats she had seen, which I very much appreciated.

I looked at and contacted some sites to check if they realised Gib was VAT free. I quote part of the response from Canine Spirit:

Unfortunately, because of the paperwork and time involved we only do VAT free shipments for large group orders valued at over £500.

We do ship internationally though - the postage is dependent on the final order value but ranges between £8-£12.

I hope this is helpful

No, it is not remotely helpful. Why should I pay import duty and VAT because you can't be arsed to deduct it? Other companies can. So despite the good looking coat, that one was a no-no.

Next up, Muddypaws, which sell the very up-market and designerish Hurtta jackets. Mmmmm - what a large furry dog would really like very much.

And what did they have to say?

We would charge £6.95 for delivery to Gibraltar, but unfortunately we are unable to provide a VAT free price as our systems are unable to process and we end up losing 17.5% to the government (sorry!)

What sort of reply is that might I ask? Even if they were sorry. Apart from one that does not get my custom.

I have just dealt with another very accommodating firm today called Bourgeois Boheme (yeah it probably suits my image down to my soon-to-be Bourgeois Boheme bootily-clad feet) who said - let us know if you have any problems with inputting the forms and we will change it manually for you. So why can't exclusive Hurtta-selling Muddypaws do that?

Back to the dog coat saga. I mailed doggiecoats.co.uk and received a prompt reply the same day with a VAT free price and a quote of £3.40 for postage.

Hello! other firms out there. You are charging between twice and four times as much for delivery of a dog coat. You refuse to deduct the VAT saying you have to pay it or can't be bothered with the paperwork.

What on earth is wrong with people? Is making a living so easy that you can just ignore potential repeat sales?

We are well pleased with Pippa's dog coat. After collecting it from the PO today, I have ordered another one. I wish doggiecoats.co.uk much success and highly recommend them for the quality of their product, prompt response to emails, and for not charging me 17.5% tax that I do not need to pay.

Pippa modelling his new coat, size 28 in in olive green for those of you interested in details.

He's not happy with being a fashion model, perhaps we need to wait for the rain.

Gib tales (2) - Call me

2010-10-05T15:30:00.007+02:00

Let's look at public utilities in Gib - gas, electricity, water and telecommunications. No this is not boring, this is very relevant to today's current news post!

First things first. There is no natural gas, the only gas is bottled, ie butane. With the majority of people living in flats, often without lifts, electricity tends to be the most common energy supply used in homes. Restaurants, bars and clubs tend to use gas however.

Electricity is provided by Gibraltar's own power station, and a new one is set to come on stream in 2011. Gibraltar Electricity Authority (Gibelec) is responsible for generation, distribution and supply of electricity. Electricity is one of the products in Gib that is relatively expensive.

Water is perhaps the most interesting of the utilities. Courtesy of the Gib govt web site:

There are no permanent natural water supplies in Gibraltar, main sources used to be the water catchments on the rock face,

Old water catchments...

which collected rainwater and supplied the reservoirs hollowed out inside the Rock, and wells on the sandy plain to the north. The main supply is currently provided by an efficient number of distillers, distilling sea water located at the North Mole.

Water is provided by AquaGib and there are two parallel supplies - one of distilled seawater for drinking water, and one of seawater for such things as toilets, fire hydrants, and various other non-drinking water supplies. The water supply is worth a post in its own right, but not for today.

Call me ....

Telecommunications. The major provider in Gibraltar is Gibtelecom. Yes everything here does include 'Gib' in the name. It's still known locally as Gibtel which was one of its predecessors.

Gibtelecom has a turnover of around £31.5M. It is owned jointly by the government of Gibraltar, and Telekom Slovenije, which bought a 50% shareholding in 2007.

There are almost 90 fixed lines per 100 population, and Gibtelecom also provides mobile and internet services. More than 80% of households have an internet link.

Of course telecommunications has been a source of controversy between Spain and Gibraltar. Although Gib was allocated its own International Direct Dialling (IDD) code back in the 70s Spain refused to acknowledge it.

When IDD was introduced in Spain, Gib was included as part of the Spanish numbering system, with a code of 9567. Even a few years ago, we were ringing this code from Spain.

In a nutshell this meant that only 30,000 numbers could be dialled from Spain and led to a shortage of new numbers that could be allocated to Gib residents. And at the same time, international callers using cheap rates that went via Spain, meant that callers either heard the Gib number didn't exist, or if they were connected - Telefonica (Spanish company) kept the profits.

And as for mobiles. Well, Gibtelecom was prevented from roaming agreements with Spanish operators.

Same old story?

The Cordoba Agreement of 2006 removed these restrictions (and included a whole load of other stuff) and it finally came into force in 2007. So now Gib really really has its own IDD and we can even get roaming in Spain. Note when roaming in Spain, please choose any other operator than grasping Telefonica.

Today's news story.

Well only that Señor Sanchez wants a piece of Gib's arse via the telecoms industry.

According to the Gib Chronicle:

Having watered down his controversial plan to charge visitors to the Rock, Alejandro Sánchez, the mayor of La Linea, has now set his eyes on another element of the Gibraltarian economy in his effort to find revenue streams for his cash-strapped town.  The mayor said he would ask Spain's Ministry for Foreign Affairs and its Finance Ministry for details on the income generated in Gibraltar by online gaming.   The mayor said this business would not have been possible without the Cordoba agreement, which radically expanded the number of phone lines available to Gibraltar. He also noted that fibre optic lines linking Gibraltar to the world run through La Linea.  With that in mind, the mayor wants a slice of the action.  "La Linea wants to know what it is getting in return, given that without those cables passing through our town, that business would not exist today," the town council said in a statement at the weekend. 

No doubt Señor Sánchez has taken into account the income taken by Telefonica, resulting from the restrictions previously placed on Gibraltar by Spain ?

Why on earth is anyone claiming financial compensation for some other country's industry just because something goes through their land/air space/sea space (sore point that one)? Oh. Because they are short of money. And Gib is a profitable on-line gaming centre. So what? Nothing to do with La Linea. At all.

And, regarding yesterday's post about what is anyone in the UK actually doing for Gibraltar? Well it seems William Hague gave a short speech at the Tory Party Conference saying that in his election campaign he had stated he he would not let Gibraltar down, and that now he was in government he intended to defend Gib's interests strongly.
Hmm hope so.

Territorial waters dispute soon. Honest.

Gib tales (1)

2010-10-04T17:17:00.011+02:00

Here is the first in a new series of posts about Gibraltar for my friends who may not know much about the place. And anyone else who is interested.

When I first arrived 14 years ago on holiday I knew two things - 1) that it was British, and 2) that my father spent some time here when he was in the Royal Navy. Oh, and that there were wonderful apes/monkeys - correctly speaking, monkeys - Barbary Macaques.

Monkey outside the tax office - don't think they have to pay taxes though...

So the format of these posts (if they ever get past this first one) is that there will be a few facts about Gib, followed by a news story/current event.

Here we go with a few of the basic facts.

Gibraltar is a British Overseas Territory, a former Crown Colony. Here is Wiki's quick summary:

The British Overseas Territories are fourteen territories of the United Kingdom which, although they do not form part of the United Kingdom itself, fall under its jurisdiction.They were acquired during the time of the British Empire and have not become independent or ceded to another country. The name "British Overseas Territory" was introduced by the British Overseas Territories Act 2002, and replaced the name British Dependent Territory, which was introduced by the British Nationality Act 1981. Before 1981, the territories were known as colonies or Crown colonies.

and there is more info about the territories here. Britain retains responsibility for foreign policy and defence (hang onto this point, it is important).

People from Gibraltar are Gibraltarians. English is the official language but locals also speak Spanish and Llanito. Do not expect to find a little colony of Brits here.

The Gibraltar government is elected by Gibraltar residents. The current party in power is the Gibraltar Social Democrats (GSD), led by Peter Caruana, who is the Chief Minister. The next election is due in 2011.

It is NOT an island - a common misconception - but is connected to the Iberian peninsula by a narrow isthmus, with the border town of La Linea. It is about three miles long by 3/4 of a mile wide, so its overall area is approx 2 1/4 square miles. The population is around 30,000 people.

Gibraltar is the nearest airport in the world to its city. Coming across the frontier into Gib currently involves driving, cycling, or walking across the airport runway. When planes are due to land/take off, the route across the airport is closed leading to queues and delays.

Runway - and past that, La Linea, and Spain. (For the pedants I had better quickly add that La Linea is actually past the rather nice MOD properties and Western Beach. Spain begins at the built-up bit).

Thousands of cross-border workers - from Spain - cross the frontier every day for higher wages than they can get in Spain, (assuming they can currently even get a job in Spain), and to take money out of Gib. Figures range from between 4000 workers to 12000. The truth is probably at the lower end for legitimate employees, but just add on all those people working on the black, mmmm, easily near the top figure.

Some important dates in Gib's history are:

711 - conquered by Muslims

1309 - taken by Spanish

1333 - surrendered to a Muslim siege

1462 - recaptured by Spain

1704 - taken by an Anglo-Dutch fleet as part of the Spanish war of succession

1713 - Treaty of Utrecht - Spain cedes Gibraltar to Britain in perpetuity

Onto this post's current news issue, which has been rumbling on for some time now.

The proposed toll

The mayor of La Linea, Alejandro Sanchez, has proposed a €5 toll each way for some people to enter and leave Gibraltar. As the stories change virtually every week, it is difficult to say who would be included and excluded.

Residents of La Linea would almost certainly be excluded. Included? ... Gib residents? Tourists? Spanish residents from San Roque? Algeciras? Sevilla? Madrid?

It seems, according to most local newspapers, that the coffers of the La Linea Ayuntamiento (town council) are rather bare. To the extent that council employees have not been paid for some weeks and have been staging strikes outside the town hall.

Well where better to go than to hit rich Gibraltar? Huh?

1) Is there anywhere in Europe where you have to pay to cross a frontier? Remember the Europe of free movement ?

2) All Gibraltarians are not rich. Jobs are hard to find (often done cheaper by someone who doesn't live in Gib and working on the black) and the cost of living is higher than in Spain. Unless you smoke and drink spirits of course, in which case Gib is paradise. But unemployment benefit in Gib is not a patch on Spanish benefit. What do Spaniards get? Some 70% or so of their last wage? £80 a week here for a married couple. For 13 weeks. Not for a couple of years like the Spanish system (wonders why Spanish coffers are slightly empty?)

3) What is everyone doing about it? Caruana? Our MEPs? Giles Chichester? Trevor Colman, Earl of Dartmouth? Ashley Fox? Julie Girling? Graham Watson?

Well the three Tories - Chichester, Fox and Girling have at least said something. A combined effort of writing to British Foreign Secretary William Hague, EU Commission President José Manuel Barosso (Portuguese), and dear Señor Sanchez.

And the result so far?

The Ayuntamiento de Andalucía and the Spanish government in Madrid have said this proposed toll is illegal. And they can't actually do anything about it as it hasn't happened or words to that effect. Much the same from the EU. Not sure what William Hague has done (his website is rather bare on his Gib efforts, somewhat like his head, oops not fair that one) or whether Señor Sanchez ever responded to Ms Girling.

So where are we? Not knowing what is going on basically. Now Señor Sanchez has come up with a crafty little wheeze. He is considering fiddling with two routes in and out of Gib, one toll-free - and the other - the toll route of course.

Oh and the Mayor of La Linea thinks the entry charge for the Upper Rock national park in Gibraltar is illegal. Hello, Señor Sanchez. This is not a toll to cross the border to a foreign country to go to our homes. This is an entry charge for a nature reserve. Not heard of that before? Nor is it any of your business what the Gib government does within Gibraltar.

Gibraltar is not a nature reserve. Or a theme park. We don't deserve to be charged to go in and out of the place we live. And neither do the people who want to visit Gibraltar, or the cross-border workers who come here every day. Or even the Spaniards who regularly come here to fill up with cheap fuel, tabs and booze - or is that the problem too? Possibly spending money in Gib rather than La Linea? Go fill your coffers elsewhere Señor.

Next post - territorial waters dispute.

And you thought living in Gib was an idyllic peaceful place in the sun?

Grapes - and anis .....

2010-10-02T16:36:00.004+02:00

'Catalina, Catalina,' shouted José. Which invariably means there is some free food in the offing. It was grapes from his daughter's finca.

It took me by surprise the first time our Spanish neighbours started giving us food.

Not just fresh food - but even cooked meals, if the family didn't eat it all - we got the leftovers. I felt like I was on the receiving line in a soup kitchen. OK so I haven't done soup kitchens but I have had the free hand-outs at the Krishnas. Fortunately, unlike Krishna food, the Spanish food from next door wasn't the same every day and eventually I got used to it and started to enjoy the novelty of someone providing me with free, fresh and tasty meals.

It's not just our immediate neighbours either. Because we live in a small community people regard each other as neighbours when they live a few streets - or more - away. And when there is a glut of veg, the Spanish don't want it to go to waste so huge bags of food are liberally handed out. Well, only to people they like I suppose. Artichokes, cucumbers, cabbages, courgettes, tomatoes, onions, aubergines, broad beans, runner beans - whatever is the crop at the time.

But like everywhere, the economy is on a downturn and people are struggling. So the freebies don't happen too often these days.

What to do with a few kilos of grapes though? Partner doesn't like fruit, and I eat it for breakfast sometimes - but not that many grapes. Even though they were Moscatel grapes. He came up with a bright idea. At New Year, Spaniards have a custom of trying to eat 12 grapes before the 12 midnight chimes have finished. They also drink the odd few glasses of cava but that part isn't relevant for this.

So grapes matured in anis are a traditional Christmas/New Year thing. Our neighbours usually given us some every Christmas in a glass with the accompanying liquid. They invariably do it early in the morning so it basically blows our heads off for the rest of the day.

Off we went to buy the bottle of anis. Most makes of anis are sweet but there are a couple of dry ones. Anis de Mono is our poison of choice.

i washed the grapes, and filled the jar. A whole bottle of anis went into the grape jar!!!!!!!!

They plumped up in no time, swelling out with the anis. After a couple of days, I had to try one. Yummy. Of course. I decided to spoon a little liquid into my teacup which I was eating them in (run out of bowls - all in the dishwasher).

Wait!!!! Where is that potent incredibly strong grapey anisy liquid? Not there. Just some watery nothing in particular. All the anis had magically transferred itself to the grapes. How could it do that? More to the point, how come when my neighbour dished up grapes and liquid - it tasted like pure alcohol?

Got it. My crafty - and generous - neighbour wasn't really giving us the left over dregs from the fermenting grapes. She had topped up our glasses from a brand new bottle. No wonder we always felt rat-arsed.

The jar got topped up with more grapes on our next visit :) and the left overs were given to the chickens who seemed very happy. No chickens were fed grapes with anis, I add hastily.

The yellow buoy

2010-08-19T17:12:00.006+02:00

It was there bobbing in the distance. Not bobbing very much because the sea was so tranquil.

Alluring, enticing, and saying 'Swim to me.'

But I didn't. Apart from anything else it was some time since I had been swimming, and although confident enough in a pool, the sea is another matter. The 'beach' where we live in Spain is shingly and drops sharply as soon as you enter the sea. One meter knee height, two meters thigh, three waist and four shoulders. After that you can't put your foot on the bottom.

Personal survival medals, life-saving bronze medallion, long distance certificates mean nothing if you are caught in the sea. Cramp? Heart attack? Stung by one of the summer shoals of Medusa (large jellyfish) ?

So I looked at it longingly. And swam part way out, further than anyone else had gone that morning so that was good enough.

And then, the German (?) couple started to swim. They went as far as I had gone. They went further. They swam to MY buoy. They turned round and swam to the next one. Then they came back.

It was no good, I had to get there too. But not that day. Not even that week.

The water is well warm in August. The next time we went, I swam lazily around enjoying the wonderful waves swooping me up and down, and being able to float on my back without moving a finger.

That yellow buoy was still there. I needed to get a bit nearer. Improve my distance. I swam leisurely towards it. There were people playing around on an inflatable near to me. Suddenly the buoy was nearer. I put on a spurt, but then, he just remained there, laughing and taunting. And receded.

This wasn't good enough. I could reach him. I wasn't tired, I was enjoying the swim, and I needed to reach him now. I had to achieve the swim. There was no-one around any more. The inflatables had gone. Partner was a million miles away - or might as well have been - still watching me from the shore. I had no idea how deep the water was - but does that matter?

The yellow buoy smiled at me and then he was within reaching distance. I swam up to him, touched him lightly as though it was the other end of the pool, and turned around to head for shore.

Swimming in a straight line was not an option. Even though the sea was relatively calm, there was still a current. I could have gone with the flow, and ended up walking up the beach. Easier to swim slightly against it and keep focussing on my target. The large volleyball posts just behind Partner.

I tried to ensure I emerged out of the water in a suitable Ursula Undress fashion and wandered nonchalantly back to my towel. Not tired, not anything, apart from pleased and having had the best swim for years.

I didn't intend to do it again. I was happy enough I had achieved my goal. But the next time I got in the water, the yellow buoy was enticing me again. 'Come here. Swim to me.' So I did.

And it was much easier, I wasn't worried there was no-one around, I hadn't noticed any jellyfish, and it was such an irresistible experience.

It was a good break and we enjoyed it. As some of you know, the journey back wasn't quite so good. Maybe I will write about that, but later. For today, the nice things in life.

Some pix of fun in the sun....

Theft - Headlong - The White Tiger

2010-07-24T17:42:00.003+02:00

Being in Spain - in my internet free zone at home - means lots of time to read.

So, I had a nice Peter Carey book. It was called 'Theft: a love story' (2006) and described variously as a tale about art (and art dealers), scams, relationships - and apparently a story that would make the reader laugh.

Well, although I enjoyed it, as I enjoy all Carey novels, I didn't find it at all funny. Sad and immoral but not funny. Perhaps I've lost my sense of humour.

But having read that, it reminded me of another book I had bought some time ago, one about art history.

I searched through all four bookcases - but could I find it? No. So after repeatedly looking in them all over again, I finally found it hiding at the back of a cupboard - which also has books in it - four bookcases naturally not providing enough space so other furniture has been appropriated for books.

Michael Frayn's Headlong (1999), and short listed for the Booker Prize in that year. I remembered the general plot, but not the detail, so happily sat down to plough through it again.

Plough through it was the word. I enjoyed it the first time around, but was I ever fed up this time with reading about Breughel and iconography and iconology. Or was it iconoclasts? How to ruin a decent plot with really too much academic/intellectual content. Or maybe once bearable maybe enjoyable, yes, but - never again.

Anyway, having finished with art - history and dealers and crazy relationships - onto a totally different book. The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, (2008) and a Booker prizewinner. Yeah, ok, I do end up reading Booker nominated or winning novels.

It was a good read. Very black humour and totally amoral and utterly enjoyable. Try it. Probably the best of the three.