Holidays

As readers of Pippa's blog may have discovered, we cleared off to the finca for a week's holiday. Given that I don't do any paid work (and very little of any other work), holiday is perhaps not the right word for my week away.

But it was intended to be a week off for my partner who has been working solid for 15 months. He's a decorator. So what better way to spend your holiday? And birthday?



We cleared the garden of all the overgrown stuff, including heavy pruning of some nispero trees, and painted the terrace walls, inside and out - which was long overdue.

Even I was seen to get out a roller and paint brush - haven't picked up a paint brush in years (why bother when married to a decorator) - and never touched a roller before.

Which reminds me - classic boring decorator's joke 'Brush up on your sex life: roll with a painter.' Yawn.

It wasn't all painting and gardening, I did a tiny bit of cleaning. We managed two or three cycle rides, and one geocache. More on that later.

And we ate well, mostly salads, pulses, and marinated pimientos.

So here are few more pix from our birthdays, mostly his. Mine for another post.

Hibiscus


Yellow roses at night (obviously)


Painting the walls


All my very own efforts


Quick stop for a birthday drink


Birthday (his) evening meal on the terrace


Tranquility at night


More painting on my birthday


Birthday (mine) breakfast - oops the tablecloth has been swapped for a dust sheet


Up into the hills for a cache


My original Hal Apple who was becoming rather cantankerous over the week

Mezcla

Or miscellany. Or pot-pourri.

1) I went to Algeciras to catch the fast bus and avoid the roadworks at San Pedro. I also went so I could eat delicious tortilla and have a large glass of Rioja. First mistake. I’ve usually had tortilla with onions, or with peppers and onions, but I’ve not had the plain potato one. It was terrible. Rubbery and tasted like sad custard. The glass was scratched and didn’t seem to have the same huge measure as before.

There was a group of young Americans at the back of the bus who insisted on shouting all the way from Algeciras to Malaga. The problem when people shout in your native language is that you can't miss what they are saying. And it was boring. Of course, they did have competition from the Spanish guy opposite me who seemed to think it was generous of him to play his dance style music loudly for the benefit of the whole bus. If he's going to do that, I think we should be able to put in requests. 'How about a nice piano concerto?' would be mine.

Prices – 3.10€ for tortilla plus wine, 11.25€ from Algeciras to Malaga, 2.05€ from La Linea to Algeciras.

2) The next day, having completed watering the garden, weeding the path, and feeding the chickens plus feeding me – but only with grapefruit juice - by 8am, I decided breakfast was in order. When I arrived in Malaga I went to the railway station cafe – El Yate. This is a good place, no smoking and a good choice of food. One of the few places I have found in Andalucia that offers edible croissants. The trouble was that orange juice, croissants and coffee would have given me a sugar overdose. I spotted some patatas alioli. Potatoes in garlic mayonnaise. I asked if they had a plain salad too – ensalada mixta. Actually it is rather less plain than elsewhere. For 4.50€ it includes beetroot, carrot, egg, olives, tomato, sweetcorn, and loads of lettuce. OK, so half of it is lettuce, but the other bits are good. Then I asked for a glass of wine. So it was breakfast time, but I was eating lunch.

The waiter must have been concerned about this. I obviously didn't do much for the image of solo middle-aged English women. He shot from behind the bar and said (in Spanish) 'I will help you.' Fine by me. He picked up a knife and fork 'For your salad' and plonked them on the plate. He picked up the tray with a flourish and I dutifully followed behind. First the fork fell off. And when it did, the tray wobbled, and then the glass wobbled. Ah Joan Collins – where are you when you are needed? The glass fell. Spectacularly. The contents flew in all directions, and the glass shattered. We proceeded to my table and he slouched off with rather less of a flourish. A new glass of wine was brought and 'Sorry madam'. Hell, it could happen to any of us. Rather him than me though.

Prices – 4.50€ for the salad, 3€ for the tapa, 1.50€ for the glass of wine. A small coffee is 1.20€, orange juice is 2.20€, croissant around 1.50€.

3) On the way back, I finally finished my library book – 'Your Face Tomorrow 1 – Fever and Spear' by Javier Marias. It has taken me two months to read this convoluted novel. It might have been easier to read it in Spanish, it felt so toruous at times. But actually by the time I finished it, I decided I had quite enjoyed it. Anyway, now I can read Paul Theroux's 'The Great Railway Bazaar.' As I've been on some of the trains he mentions, this should be interesting.



4) Shower Kleener. I bought this ages ago because it was ecological and green and etc etc. But I was reading the label the other day and it said something about using it meant you could lengthen the time between cleaning the shower. Haha!! I don't need to buy something to make me drag my feet about cleaning. I can do that one all on my little own.

5) Domestic appliances update – no I haven't forgotten about this. No new bed – we are still sleeping on the floor. The Apple is still in the Apple shop countless weeks later – all tests indicate it may be the hard disk/drive. Yeah right, I may have said that ages ago. The HP All-in-One finally went on its holidays. The Canon Lasetjet is rather nice. Update – hot off the press – the Apple shop finally rang to tell me the problem is the logicboard. This is NOT a cheap fix. Ho hum, what to do? Write off a very expensive computer after two years or throw more money at it?

Gibraltar elections - Europe 2009

So, European elections. We received our polling cards a few weeks ago, and oddly enough, I felt rather excited.

It's one thing choosing not to vote - but it's another not being able to. Living in Spain, even as an EU citizen you still can't vote in all the elections, and at one of the recent ones there was total uproar at some polling stations when foreigners were turned away.

They had been told that turning up with a passport, and being on the local register, would be sufficient. But apparently that wasn't good enough for a few councils, so people entitled to vote were turned away.

Here in Gib life is a lot simpler. We just missed getting on the electoral roll when we first bought the flat, but clearly when the register was updated we were included.

We carefully read through the five lots of information we had received. They were from:

Liberal Democrat - and the Lib Dems included a Gib candidate, Jonathan Stagnetto
Tories
Green Party
UK Independence Party
Katie Hopkins



The Tories and the Lib Dems produced Gib-specific leaflets. The UK Independence Party didn't mention Gibraltar. The Green Party added a sentence that said 'The Green Party supports self-determination for Gibraltar'. Katie Hopkins is apparently 'A west country woman wanting to give a real voice to the Rock'.

Hmm. I looked at the Gibspecific ones. Apparently the fact that Gibraltar's national football team has not achieved UEFA membership is a significant political issue.

I can understand the implications behind that, but I am not going to base my decision on how to vote, on football. In the Tory leaflet, it was the first item, followed by telecommunications, free movement across the border, and MEPs visiting Gib. There was some important information on the back page about the CEPSA refinery. Is football really so important that it deserves to come before free movement of people, health issues, communication, and genuine involvement in the community from politicians?

To all the parties - it would be good to hear more about all the candidates you put up.

To the ones who didn't even mention Gibraltar - you don't get my consideration, let alone my vote.

When we arrived at the polling station, which was amazingly well organised, and very official, we received a ballot paper with 16 choices. Gulp. I only knew about five of them. And I'd immediately dismissed two of those.

I glanced at the first few - British National Party (BNP), Some Christian Praying Fellowship Warm and Friendly Party, and .... the Socialist Labour Party, led by Arthur Scargill. Ah yes, the man who came to fame on the back of the Lofthouse Pit disaster and never looked back. Mr Scargill merits a post in his own right, but this post about an election in Gib will not be about him.

I read down the 16. I walked up to a booth, pulled across the very nice curtain, picked up my pencil and made my choice.

Into the box it went.

As we walked out there was a small but continual stream of people exercising their right to vote for only the second time Gibraltar residents have been eligible to vote in EU elections.

I hope we made a thoughtful and helpful vote. The right to vote is a very important one, however poor the choice of candidates may appear. People have died in the fight for democracy and the right to vote. Many people in the world still do not have that right. They are still struggling to eat and live from day to day. So it annoys the hell out of me when people try and be clever about not voting because they don't agree with any of the politicians who are standing. Neither do I. But if you don't use your vote, one day, you may find you no longer have it.

And last night when I looked at the internet to find the results, it seems the South West and Gibraltar constituency elected three Tories, two UK Independence Party members, and one Lib Dem.

According to the Gibraltar Chronicle, sadly only some 7000 people voted in Gib, out of the 20,000 or so eligible to vote, so at 35%, that was just over a third of the electorate. In contrast, when at the last EU election, the turn-out was nearly 60%, well above the European average.

Gibraltar's voting pattern also reflected the eventual results in the South West and Gibraltar constituency, with the Tories obtaining half the vote. However the rest of our vote differed from the overall results. Here in Gib, the Tories were followed by Labour and Lib Dems at around 18% of the vote each and with a mere 60 votes difference between them.

Of the so-called minor parties, the BNP got 94 votes, and the Christian party got 70. The UK Independence Party only received 100 votes in Gibraltar, and yet two out of the six MEPs for the constituency now come from that party. There were also 185 spoiled ballot papers.

And one other statistic. The electorate of the whole constituency is around four million. That puts Gibraltar's representation at less than 1%. It will be interesting to see how much our new MEPs actually do - or even know - about Gibraltar.

Both the Gib Chronicle and the blog, A Gibo's Tale, here and here have more information on the EU election. Vox also has an interesting article.

The Chron gives the full breakdown of votes.

Geocaching - part 2

So, back at the flat and preparing lunch/tea/a meal. Note to everyone – geocaching is hunger-inducing.

Out of the blue, Partner suddenly says, 'After we've eaten, why don't we go and get that cache you could never find?'

Truth was, I had made plans to do nothing with the rest of the day in a beautifully idle fashion. I thought I had been out, done a bit of walking, got some fresh air, navigated us around, taken photos – what more does a woman need to do?

Partner never offers to go walking on Sunday afternoon/evening. Chance not to be missed. He was obviously determined to find a cache on his first day of geocaching.

We agreed to eat, walk dog, and then climb up the Rock to find the elusive (to me) Devil's Gap cache. And that is what we did.

Just another Gib view


Spring flowers


Traipsing up the track


When we arrived there, we poked around the canons. There were two lads lying on one of them smoking dope. We said 'Hi' and then waited for them to leave.



Partner sat on some cement structure in a martial arts pose. I faffed around with the GPS unit.

We had done our homework and looked at all the photos and read the entries on the geocaching site. We looked at the spot where it was supposed to be hidden. Definitely not there.

I consulted the all-important GPS and suggested Partner look a few feet away. He did. I continued to look in the spot where it was meant to be.

'FOUND IT!!' came the triumphant shout. He proudly displayed the plastic box and we hurried to open it up and look at the treasure trove. We were so excited that I forgot to log in, so technically he was the only one who had found it. He chucked a couple of coins in, and we didn't take anything. Off we skipped down the hill, like two happy kids.

He was right. He had managed to find it.

Partner with treasure


At the weekend we thought we would tackle Sohail Castle in Fuengirola. Not a chance. We couldn't park, you couldn't take dogs, and it was too hot to leave Pippa in the Landy. We did park up not too far away to eat our sarnies, but decided that there were too many people around for one of us to even attempt a cache.

So in the afternoon, after we'd eaten, I decided another hike up to Devil's Gap was called for so I could add my name to the log book. Not a soul around. I took a plastic frog and will put him in Spain somewhere. Oh, and I finally managed to find it without a GPS. After all, not much point taking it when I knew where to look.


The track


Looking down to the Convent


Looking across to Africa

Geocaching - part 1

Well, I have a bit of a confession to make here.

For the last two years, I have cheerfully taken the piss out of people who go geocaching. I had to look up what it was first of course, because I had never heard of it. I mean, why would anyone in their right mind go ferreting about in the undergrowth looking for pots of tacky rubbish masquerading as treasure?

To be specific, I have particularly taken the piss out of one of my internet friends who regularly goes caching. As some readers will know, I even set up a fictional blog to write about his really boring anoraky hobby.

I should give him credit, he's never complained about my endless digs and sarcasm. If he has got fed up - he's never told me. Anyway, this blog is not about him (even if the other one was) it's about ME.

There are a handful of caches here on Gibraltar, so last year - or maybe the year before - I decided to see if I could find them, without using a GPS. After all, one of the reasons I thought it was a very silly hobby, is that it involves buying a consumerist techy gadget. I see no reason why people can't stick to maps and compasses.

So I clambered up the Rock to Devil's Gap. On more than one occasion. In the end I stopped looking for the tat treasure and just enjoyed the walk anyway. I wandered down to Europa Point and couldn't find the treasure there either. Lesson No 1. It is easy enough to get to the location but finding the tat treasure is another matter.

Partner said loftily that he bet he could find the treasure at Devil's Gap - but did he ever come with me? No.

Fast forward somewhat. Partner unexpectedly had the weekend off work and although we initially planned on going back to the finca I thought I would suggest something different. So on Saturday we investigated the - limited - choice of GPS units for sale in Gib. I went back to the computer and looked them all up to decide which would be suitable - and vfm of course.

We then went back to the shop and I prevaricated between two models. Eventually the shop guy said I could take the cheaper one, use it over the weekend and if I wasn't happy, I could go back and upgrade on Monday. Seemed a fair deal to me, so we bought a Garmin GPSmap 60Cx. C for coloured screen and x for memory card - for anyone interested.

Trying out the new kit


There are quite a few caches in nearby Spain, so I took down the details, transferred the co-ordinates to the clever new machine, and Sunday's trip was planned.

After a slight delay at the frontier where the Guarda Civil decided that we looked like a suspicious pair in a scruffy vehicle that clearly was hiding a ton of smuggled cigarettes, and they poked around the Land Rover until they decided they weren't going to find anything, we set off towards Algeciras.

It's a pretty straightforward road but my planned getting-to-know-the-GPS time didn't happen as I was also The Navigator. Given that our Spanish map book seems to have disappeared into the ether, and I didn't know what I was doing with the GPS, all we had to go on were my scribbled-down notes.

Well, they were excellent. The directions, I mean, not my scribbled notes, and we arrived at the gates of Parque Centennial without any problems at all. So next - the treasure hunt.

Entrance to the Parque


Being over-ambitious, we were attempting a multi-cache. This is where you go to different stages to get clues for the final location. Well, I think that's what it is.

The weather was glorious, and after going to the first stage, we just wandered round the park and then explored some ruins.

The first stage, a number of rectangular structures


Looking out across the bay towards Gib


Second World War bunker


Some of the older ruins dating back to the early 1800s


The bay at Getares


The clue to the treasure was that it was hidden under a big stone. Or in Spanish, baja la piedra grande which could also be under the big rock. We aimlessly turned over every stone in sight - there were a lot at the ruins. At this point we hadn't got the final location, so we were grasping at straws, or rather rocks.

I decided we needed to be more systematic and off we went to the second stage to get the final clue. Now, I almost had the final co-ordinates. Eventually I worked out I should have put a zero in front of the last set of numbers. We were set. Or we would be if I could work out how to enter a set of co-ordinates.

The second stage - the tower


So, here we were with our known destination, but I couldn't key it in, so couldn't programme the thing to tell us how to get there. I decided the idiot's way to do this was to keep repeatedly checking our location - I could manage that - and moving a few feet in the relevant direction so that we ended up nearer to the desired spot.

Eventually we got there - but could we find the treasure? Of course not. After half an hour of beating about in the undergrowth, poking into crevices, turning over huge boulders, and generally behaving like all those silly idiots who I had previously mocked mercilessly, we gave up. We don't like giving up, and I was convinced we had the right spot.

Plans for retrieving other caches en route dissolved. To fail once was bad enough, but a second failure would be no fun at all. Tarifa and her beautiful beaches beckoned.

Looking across the beach towards the old port entrance at Tarifa


(More Tarifa pix on Just Landy blog)

Part 2 to follow.....

Apple Sauce?

So, thinking I had run out of domestic appliance disasters and bed hunts to write about - I have a new topic.

My darling expensive all-singing, all-dancing cantankerous Hal is no longer co-operating with me.

Hal, for anyone who doesn't know is my Apple laptop. Technically speaking, he is Hal 2, as Hal (1) is an Apple desktop. Very nice and elegant too, is Hal (1). No horrid towers or awful things like that, just a rather nice looking screen and a keyboard.

Anyway, Hal 2 is a top-of-the-range MacBookPro. With a large screen. Well, he was top-of-the-range when I bought him a couple of years ago. Now he has been outpaced and outremembered, so to speak. He also happens to be the most expensive computer I have ever bought in my life.

I carefully put him to bed on Sunday night, and then fell onto my Thermarest.

On Monday morning, I pressed his little start button. Nothing. I pressed it a couple of times for quite a while. Still nothing. Partner impatiently interfered, and generating all his static electricity that he is always charged with, managed to get a noise out of Hal. Whirr, he went pathetically. And then stopped. (Hal, I mean, not Partner). The black screen glared at us.

His sleep light was on. His sleep light should not be on when he is shut down. Nor should it be on when he is meant to be waking up. Perhaps he is like me and needs all the sleep he can get.

Partner went off to work. His last words were: 'Go and buy a new computer - there will be somewhere open today (Bank Hol), there always is.'

With him out of the way, I carefully took out the install disk, inserted it, and followed all the minimal instructions in the book. Of course, without the computer working, one can't get onto the internet to get useful info.

When I pressed varying combinations of the On key plus, a few others, I heard a second lively whirr. The one where Hal usually springs into life. Nope. He faded again. I turned him off, and he emitted a plaintive whimper. I couldn't get the install disk out either.

I went out to buy a new computer.

Now, while I am not the techiest person in the world, I am pretty fast on computers. I Can. Not. Bear. a slow computer. Or something that hangs and crashes. I have no patience with anything that wastes my time in the world of computers.

I looked in the shop and asked about specifications. I basically wanted an inexpensive model, that looked ok, with as much processor power and memory as possible. I didn't need anything fancy. I already have one of those and he is in big-time sulk mode.

I settled on a dual core HP with 3GB of RAM. It's actually a slightly higher spec than Hal. And to be fair, it does seem fast. Even I can't moan. At least I'm not hitting the keys and waiting five minutes for them to appear on screen.

HP - the sauce?


So I'm relearning Windows. Which seems remarkably like Apple but not as sophisticated. Hal has been despatched to the AppleDoc with no idea of how much he will cost or how long it will take.

More on Clouds.

Pillows

In my indefatigable quest to continue to write about all things domestic, I have turned today to pillows. (Credit for this inspiration goes to another blogging pal - thanks Letty).

Pillows, of course are linked with beds. But fortunately you do not need a bed to buy pillows. The research, drama - and of course, cost - are not as high with pillows as with beds.

Now, in my bed investigations, I discovered that if you are willing to fork out £1500-£2000 for a Tempur latex mattress (well, half latex, the rest is polyurethane), you get free pillows. One each in fact, if you buy a double mattress.

These pillows cost more than £100 each. Yes, that's right. More than £100 for a pillow. Actually at one point, I used not to use pillows. However I digress. Now I use two, more when I am terribly ill and coughing my guts up all night.

Clearly, two free pillows, are worth more than £200 - so that is a significant 'saving'. Isn't it? Well, it's only a saving if you are going to buy the pillows anyway. And I'm sure the cost of the 'free' pillows has been factored into the cost of the mattresses. I wonder if you can have two hundred quid knocked off the price of the mattress if you don't want the pillows?

Now, for anyone who doesn't know, pillows seem to deteriorate rather quickly in warm humid climates. I have no idea how long latex ones last and I have no intention of paying more than £100 for a pillow to find out.

I have bought various synthetic ones in Spain that were OK but not brill. However the other week, I decided to splash out the princely sum of £15.95 on a (washable) microfibre pillow that 'feels like down.' And - indeed it does. I only bought one of course, for me to try, no point wasting my money on one each if they are rubbish. But it isn't rubbish. It is incredibly comfy, and my little head just sinks into it.



I graciously asked Partner if he wanted one too. He sulkily said he thought he might. I went to another shop I had found that was selling the same pillows for £14.90. Always best to save a quid or two where possible.

It was not there. I began to think I had imagined this shop. I wandered up and down the street where I thought it was about three times. Finally - there it was - the door was open and the loveable pillows were inside. It turned out the shop shut for lunch. For two and a half hours.

There was only one pillow on display, but the helpful woman dragged out her stepladder and climbed up to get me another one from the top shelf. I, of course, need two of these delectable pillows so one was for Partner and the other was so that I could have two delicious pillows.

I parted with my money and happily traipsed home with my 'feels like down' pillows.

I generously allowed Partner to have his and I nestled down with two of them.

A couple of days later, I pointed out to him that the idea of having a delicious soft 'feels like down' pillow is to actually have that one on top. He promptly swapped his pillows round and said, in tones of rapture, how wonderful the new pillow was.

Yes dear. Men are so quaint aren't they? I buy you a wonderful soft new pillow and it takes you a couple of days to put it on top. Ha!

Fridge freezers (and a bed update)

Readers of what is rapidly turning into the domestic appliance and bed hunt blog will no doubt be on tenterhooks to hear the latest installment in the saga.

This is about the freezer part of the fridge freezer. Naturally like virtually everything else in the flat it comes from my mother's house so is of a certain age.

I think it was acquired when I was an undergraduate, so that places it well over 20 years old. Ironically the first one we bought - same brand, Electrolux - didn't last ten years.

One rare day, I was busy cleaning ( I think) behind this first fridge freezer of ours and noticed a gaping hole in the back. Part of the metal had just rotted away. Off we trotted to buy a new one. It was an AEG. Not long after we had that - the door seal went. Fortunately, and to my utter surprise, it was still under warranty so we received a shiny new door at no cost. When we sold our last house in the UK, we left that fridge behind, we'd probably only had it five years. We left it because the guy who was buying our house was being persuaded to leave his fridge behind for the purchaser of his flat etc etc. So hell, what's a fridge in a house sale?

Naturally when we bought our house in Spain, a fridge was a priority. It packed up last year - probably due to one of the many power cuts as it wasn't on a surge protector. It had lasted around six years. Although an AEG, the spec wasn't a patch on the one we had in the UK, and it had a pesky plastic water collector at the back that I kept forgetting to empty all the time.

So then we bought a nice new one from the electrical appliances shop down the road that sells seconds. It had a couple of scuff marks on the outside and cost around 260€. It looks very nice and seems perfectly functional. We also splashed out on a surge protector for it (and every other appliance in the house).

Back to the 20+year-old fridge freezer in the flat. Some time ago we noticed that one of the bread rolls was soggy, thought no more about it, except that maybe something had got knocked over when put in before frozen - soup or whatever.

More recently, one of the rolls taken out of the freezer was rock hard. Not frozen - merely stale. How odd we thought, not being the brightest of new pennies.

At the same time, the few items sitting in the freezer (usually a box of burgers and some mince - all vegetarian) seemed to defrost remarkably quickly. In fact they had very little ice, if any, on them and were quite soft.

We decided it was not working at maximum efficiency and I should really defrost it. That huge chunk of ice that forms at the front of the freezer was clearly impeding the door sealing properly. I had this problem with the previous freezer in Spain, and was amazingly efficient at defrosting that one.

So I carefully defrosted the freezer and washed it out. It looked rather nice and I did think perhaps I should have done this before. Eventually I turned it on. Some hours later - nothing. It was cold, but there was no ice forming. Just droplets of water. Perhaps it was taking its time we thought, and left it overnight. I even filled the ice cube container, just to check.



The next morning, still nothing. I was getting rather disappointed here as I was convinced the only reason it wasn't working properly was because it needed defrosting.

Eventually I bit the bullet and turned it off. A new fridge freezer was called for. I looked at those exceedingly flash American-style fridge freezers and worked out it would fit neatly-ish into an alcove in the yet-to-be transformed kitchen.

But I also thought the freezer area was too big for our modest requirements and that it would be far too expensive. We decided cheap and cheerful would win the day on this one.

I tripped off down the street to an electrical appliance shop and looked at fridge freezers. Prices ranged from around £330 to £550. That seemed rather dear compared with our good value second bought in Spain.

I learned that the ones with the little freezer compartments on top (which I rather like) have only one motor. The so-called combi fridge freezers have separate motors.

"What's the advantage of that?" I asked.

Woman in shop clearly thought I was particularly thick (you may also think that after reading how long it took us to work out the freezer was not working), and explained:

"Well, if one motor stops working, you can still use the other part."

"That's exactly what's happened to me, but I'm still having to buy a new one," I said tartly.

I said I would take Partner up there to make the final decision. When I got back home we discussed it. After all, we hardly use the freezer and the fridge is working - so we don't really need a new one that urgently - do we? And they weren't exactly cheap.

We decided the bed hunt would revert to top priority.

"Have you looked up the environmental impact of these latex beds?" asked Partner loftily.

I looked it up and read out some horrific stories of people being affected by disgusting chemicals. I have an annoyingly acute sense of smell and am prone to feeling nauseous even thinking about nasty chemicals. This is the woman who made herself ill by sniffing a few containers of floor cleaner in the supermarket trying to determine which smell I preferred. Partner has sensitive skin, no biological washing powder for him, and is sensitive to a number of obnoxious substances. The Tempur latex bed rapidly fell off the list.

The Thermarests on the floor are really quite comfy when they are blown up regularly. There is just no point rushing these shopping decisions I find.

Beds

Beds, huh. Tried buying one recently?

It seems that the days of well-sprung mattresses have died and one has to factor latex into the hunt.

Latex? I thought that was for gloves that we wear when fixing the Land Rover. And of course, for products made by the London Rubber Company.

It may well be, but it seems it is also a prime component of the latest shiniest mattresses.

Sprung mattresses, my dears, are a thing of the past.

Then of course there are frames, divans, headboards - my head was reeling.

I needed a bed to lie down.

Now, it has to be said, I am a woman who loves her bed. I might happen to have been sleeping on the floor for the past couple of years, but that is only because I have not found the perfect bed.

What I do not want is cheap tat. What I do not want is to walk into a 'shop' to have to look through a catalogue, be told that the cheapest possible bed and mattress is very good, and that I can't even see it before parting with Partner's hard-earned dough. Oh. No.

I do not want to be shown a picture of a metal bed that bears a very uncanny resemblance to the one I spent some time in aged six when I was in hospital for weeks after I had my appendix out. If it looks like a hospital bed in a catalogue, it is bound to look like a hospital bed in real life and I do not want it in my flat, regardless of whether it is very good value for money.

Nor do I want to have a lecture about how the most important thing about my bed is buying fine linen so that it looks expensive. I am not trying to sell either a bed or a flat. It is for sleeping in and the most important thing is that it is comfortable for me to sleep in, or on, or whatever. (Note to saleswoman - I actually do have some rather tasteful bed linen - my bedspread alone cost more than the bed you were trying to sell me).

So, worn out with all that, and after a not too bad night's sleep on the sofa, I wandered off to different furniture suppliers who actually had things in stock. I sat on mattresses. Loads of them. I wasn't quite at the lying down stage. I bounced around on a few relics from the past - mattresses with springs. I sunk into some top-of-the range latex jobs.

I wrinkled my nose at divans. I worried about cleaning underneath them because I wouldn't be able to get the mop or sweeping brush under there. Cleaning may not be one of my favourite past-times but I do like the option of being able to do it. I envisaged a whole pile of Pippa fur gravitating to an unreachable spot far under a divan.

I looked at nice simple frames. I looked at frames with headboards and footboards. I looked at separate headboards. I looked at wood, MDF, and metal. And PU mixes - described as faux leather in the cheap shop the previous day. Why is it that people selling cheaper products are more pretentious?

I really don't care if catalogue purchasing cuts the price by loads of quids. If I am spending half my day or rather, all night, lying on something, I want to know a) what the hell it is going to feel like and b) what it is going to look like.

But this time I had a choice. I could see what I would be buying. I could buy expensive, I could buy cheap, or I could buy somewhere in the middle. I learned about mattresses, which frames were stronger, which frames were solid wood and which were MDF, and how to move beds around (for cleaning, obviously). I did forget to ask which mattresses would be good for sex.

Next step - drag Partner there one day after work and make The Decision.

The dog may be disappointed though......

The Kenwood Chef

At the weekend I broke the Kenwood Chef.

I didn't blow up the motor or anything crucial like that, just managed to destroy a couple of essential plastic bits.

This is yet another of my mother's antiquated but functioning appliances. I am beginning to think these ancient appliances are in far better nick than I am.

Some time ago, I fished it out of its large plastic box where it had sat in storage for some time and decided to use it. The two plastic rings had perished.

As everyone knows, Kenwood Chefs have a plastic ring thing in the bottom, and one in the lid. If you forget to put the one in the bottom - your soup or whatever sprays all over the kitchen.

I rushed down to The Red House in Main Street (note to anyone interested - now closed). Yes, they had a ring for the bottom. No, they had never heard of a ring for the top. I looked at them perplexed. They clearly didn't believe me.

Anyway, the bottom ring was the essential one, so duly bought, I fitted it in, and whizzed up whatever it was, holding tightly onto the lid. Note - although impossible to manage without bottom ring, the top one is not critical.

We'd bought some spares a few years ago in the UK, so on the next trip back to the finca, I brought back the top seal. I considered taking it into The Red House to prove a point, but it seemed like too much effort.

Yesterday I was whizzing up celery soup, all seals in place of course. Zzzzzzzzzzz went the blender. And didn't blend.

I turned it up as you do when things aren't working. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, it went in an even more angry tone. I turned it off.

I took the blender off the top of the base. I had broken the plastic connector on the bottom of the blender and the plastic connector on the top of the base.


Broken plastic bit from bottom of blender and lid complete with seal


'Those two screws on the base were loose ages ago,' said Partner, rather unhelpfully, in my opinion.

Had either of us screwed them up? Of course not.

Result - one broken Chef. Now to source the bits and find out the damage.

If anyone is interested - I blended the soup using the batidora (don't know what it is called in English).

Photologue

Three euros for a huge piece of potato and onion tortilla, some bread, and a large glass of red wine. (Algeciras bus station)





It's good to live with a professional decorator, even if spending his spare time painting the flat isn't his idea of fun.



Spring flowers.





HMS Argyll, in Gib over the Easter weekend for some minor repairs.





More about HMS Argyll here, courtesy of Gibfocus.

Garrison Library, Gibraltar

Every Friday there is a tour of the Garrison Library, which is a historic research library here in the centre of Gibraltar. In fact it is only about five minutes walk from my home, but I have never organised myself to turn up at the appointed time.

However, the other Friday, I rang up to see if a tour would be taking place, and wandered up the street to the library.

Slightly set back from the leafy street somewhat, there is a side coach entrance that leads into the garden, or a rather formal front entrance. I was greeted by the honorary librarian, Lorna Swift, who ushered me through to the library to meet the other tour member. Oh. A very select tour.

We sat on the chairs and sofas in the downstairs library as Lorna gave us a brief summary of the history of the library.


The far end of the downstairs library.


It was founded in 1793, and it was such a popular move that various officers in Gibraltar immediately donated books, so that there were immediately nearly 500 books available. In addition, the committee had also written to England for another 670 books.

The success of the library meant that it quickly became necessary to look for new premises and the committee recommended building a new library. Work started in 1800, and the building, designed by Captain William Fryers, of the Royal Engineers, was completed in 1804.

Captain Fryers.


Main staircase.


Detail of the staircase.


Potential members had to be approved.


Canon, believed to have been used by Drake off Cadiz.


The Upper Reading Room c 1860.


Telescope in the Upper Reading Room.


Closely linked with the history of the library is the history of the Gibraltar Chronicle. A printing press was shipped out from England and the first edition was published in May 1801. The paper had a worldwide scoop with its story of the victory of the battle of Trafalgar and the death of Nelson, and a copy of this story is on display. The library houses issues of the Chronicle dating back to the first publication.

Copy of the Chronicle announcing the victory at the Battle of Trafalgar - in French and English - in 1805.


The price of newspapers was an expensive item in the library's budget, so the sand glass was used to determine how long members had to read The Times and other newspapers.


Old copies of The Times.


The outside of the library building, the rear patio, which - like the interior - is available for social functions.

Lorna chatting to one of the tour group (he turned up partway through to augment our numbers to three).


Spiral staircase on the rear patio.


Plant flowering in a shady part of the patio.


Abundant orange trees.


The library, from Town Range, at the beginning of the 20th century.


If you are in Gib on a Friday morning, the library is well worth a tour. The tour is free but donations are appreciated.

Photographs with kind permission of the Trustees of the Garrison Library.