Internet and VoIP

One of the few things I have actually missed from the UK, apart from a certain brand of corned beef, sad, I know, is my old cable Internet. Yes, I know, there's free wi-fi everywhere these days, but sometimes it's just better to do things from home, and more convenient, not to mention secure. When I was having discussions with my landlord about moving in, he mentioned that they were thinking of having the Internet put in anyway. He has the same system set up where he lives, and it works well. Being a naturalised Yorkshireman, the first words out of my mouth were how much? Of course, closely followed by how fast? Ok, there was the initial installation costs, but basically, it's 8meg broadband for €10 a month. I'll have some of that! The principle behind it is quite simple, but would never work in the UK, because people lack the ability to 'share' anything. I live in apartment block which has a lift in it, which has an outside telephone line in it, for emergency use, it goes to a call/help centre somewhere, I believe. So they put broadband on it as well, a bit like you do with a traditional phone line at home. They then run this to a router/switchbox in the TV room, and from there a cable to whoever wants the service. You never actually notice that anyone else is on, unless you are unlucky enough to be sharing with someone who like to download films etc, common sense should prevail here. The beauty of the system, is that the more people sign up to it, the lower the cost to the individual, my landlord currently pays just over €3 a month for his. Bargain! It's been up and running for a couple of months now, and I am extremely pleased with the service.

He also mentioned to me that he also ran his landline telephone from it as well. He has an English telephone running on it, so anyone can ring from the UK, and it's a domestic call, and he gets 1000 minutes of free calls to UK and various other countries, landlines only though. It was very cheap to run, all I needed was a VoIP box to plug into my router and a standard type phone to plug into that. It's a UK based company, he emailed me the link to take a look. All looked fine to me, time to purchase a VoIP box. I decided to purchase this out here to do my bit for the local economy, rather than have Amazon ship one out, if the price was not too different. I chose a shop about fifteen minutes drive away for my purchase, it's near where we originally lived out here, we still go there a couple times a week to see friends and some work related bits, it's also where we got our TV from. It's a bit like PCworld, but a lot smaller, the staff are less irritating and actually have a clue what they are talking about, unlike the aforementioned outlet! The more senior, manager type person there spoke at least five different languages fluently that I could make out, so service issues would not be a problem. They sold phones so they might have a VoIP box as well. They didn't carry them in stock but their larger branch in Alicante did, they could get one for me from there, it would be here tomorrow, if that was ok. Hook, line and sinker. I ordered one, and guess what, it didn't arrive, what a surprise. A few phone calls and a a couple weeks later, it still had not arrived. I was going past, so I called in. Would it be ok to walk to Alicante and fetch it myself, or do I get someone coming out from the UK to bring me one (along with a few precious tins of my corned beef!), even Amazon to deliver it maybe. Just over three weeks after ordering it, it arrived, snails pace even by Spanish standards. So I went to pick it up and buy s phone. If they didn't have one that I liked, they could order me one, let me just think about that one. No thanks, I'll take this one off the shelf I think.

Back home, I get everything out of it's boxes, to have a look. It was suggested that I might need a little 'expert' help getting it up and running. I used to tinker about with my old PC at home and things like that, so with a flush of bravery (stupidity?), I start lining everything up by the only plug socket within reach. How hard can it be? On to the website, register my details, and follow the instructions for the make of VoIP box I had bought. Five minutes later, I get to the point where it tells me to make a test call with the few minutes given free to a new customer, which I did. It worked! Great, all I need to do now was select a price plan and get an 'actual' phone number. The plan I wanted took quite some finding on the website, eventually I found it after flicking through various web pages pushing me towards various 'premium' plans. I signed up for it for £5.99 a month, picked my preferred UK area prefix, and entered my debit card details, done. But not quite. It seems that due to debit card fraud, I would need to 'prove' who I was to spend such a princely sum of money!!! They wanted a copy of a utility for my UK address, I'm sure I mentioned the reason I signed up for the service was I now live abroad, and have let my UK property, so I don't have a utility bill. Ok, they would accept a bank statement, but I went paperless years ago, and they would not accept one I had printed off from the web. Brainwave! How about some 'official' paperwork from HMRC, or maybe a nice document issued by a government department, like a passport or driving licence? No? Apparently, these documents are not acceptable forms of identity, despite who issued them, and the fact that they have both my UK address on them and a slightly dodgy photo of yours truly on. And I thought Spain could be a bit mad! So, resigned to the fact that I might have to pay my bank to issue me a statement, I go back to the bedroom to sift through the foot thick pile of papers I brought out with me on the off chance of finding something. Ten minutes in I come across some bits and pieces from the Halifax, a debit card and various bit of paper thanking me for choosing them, along with some offers for me to go into debt or maybe buy some life assurance. I only got the account re-opened because it had been mentioned to me that they do free international money transfers to Halifax Españia. It must have been the only account I hadn't changed to paperless, and there was a statement, just a few days short off being three months old, problem solved.

A few hours after me sending off my scan of the statement, an email came back saying my identity check had gone through ok, and I was ok to proceed, which I did. Personal details entered, along with debit card details and an email address, which I had to confirm, and I got my UK telephone number.  It took me about ten minutes to set up the VoIP box, and about the same with the phone, mainly due the instructions being in Spanish, but I got there. There are only two drawbacks to using it really, the first being it can be hard to make calls at tea time sometimes, the other is now friends and family have realised how easy and cheap it is, it never stops ringing! As they used to say in the BT advert, it's good to talk. But not that much! I suppose it's another one of those things that could have done with sorting before we moved out. It costs nothing to register for the service, and the setup works where ever you take it, as long as you have an Internet connection, they even do a smart phone application, but thats  not free. It would have been a lot easier to 'prove' who I was, as I still had some paper bills, so it would have been less stressful. A thought has just crossed my mind. When I go back to the UK for a week at Christmas, if I am passing Tesco and need to pop in for a few bits and want to pay by debit card, will I need to have both parents and my bank manager with me, and perhaps a letter from the Pope vouching for me?

Bump!

I was asked by a friend if I could do them a 'favour', and being an idiot, and too polite to say no, I of course said yes. In fact, I hadn't even asked what the 'favour' was before saying yes, therefore proving myself to be a complete idiot, and demonstrating my total willingness to be mug for anyone who cared to ask anything of me. I am now considering having the word 'mug' tattooed on my forehead, but apparently, it's like the kings golden clothes thing, it's already there! I obviously can't see it when I look in the bathroom mirror in the morning, further insurmountable proof that I am an idiot! I digress, back to the favour in question. I seems I had 'volunteered' myself for getting out of bed at half past five on a Sunday morning to run a Market stall! My friend needed a few days back in the UK to see his wife, I didn't push for a reason, it's not uncommon for couples out here to develop 'issues' in their relationship. Lack of trust, idle gossip, too much time on ones hands and a combination of the heat and too much cheap alcohol. It can get a bit like a cross between Jeremy Kyle and Coronation Street on steroids and LSD. So, off I go at an ungodly time on a Sunday morning, armed with a set of van keys, some vague directions and a very rough sketch of how to set the stall up. I set off early because I don't like to be late and if you are late they give your stall to someone else, even if you have already paid for it. I arrived on site about twenty minutes earlier than my friend would have done, mistake number one. Its a bit like a giant jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces go in a set order, I was early and so the pieces that should have gone in before me were not there, total chaos broke out. Frantic phone calls went out to missing pieces of the jigsaw checking if they were on their way, and I was now blocking other pieces from slotting in due to the fact I had just dumped the van waiting my turn. The pieces turned up and I shoehorned the van into my spot, no windows in the back to see out of and the wing mirrors had to be folded in to fit the gap, so I got a little help from one of the other stallholders, I waited for the crunch before they shouted stop, but it didn't come to that. But it would later.

After several hours doing not a lot apart from wilting in the heat and drinking countless bottles of water, it came time to pack up and go home. The easy bit, just get everything back in the van, didn't matter how , just get it back in, it was miller time. An hour to set up, but less than five minutes to put away. There was a gap in the exiting vans and the throngs of people had gone, I took the gap and off I went home, biggest mistake of the day. What can possibly go wrong on a ten minute drive home? Quite a lot actually. Half way home I had to take the second exit off a roundabout, I wasn't going to get that far. I stayed in the outside lane because I wasn't going that far round it, got to the first exit, then it happened. Bang! A Scandinavian guy had just got off the motorway and was travelling round the roundabout at somewhere near the speed of light, and decided to take the exit I was just going past, he thought I was going that way too, not my intention, but I was now. Time stood still and everything went into slow motion. He hit the drivers side of the van hard enough to take me off the roundabout and round the corner with him. I don't know how, but because I wasn't travelling that fast I somehow kept the van off the crash barriers. I started coming to a stop and watched in horror as he tried to hold his Audi in the other lane and failed. No barriers on the central reservation here, only the customary very high kerbs that you get here in Spain. He hit the kerb, and the passenger side of the car lifted of the road, all that stood between him and the oncoming traffic was ten feet of grass and couple of scrawny bushes, I thought he was dead. His car had now gone ninety degrees and was running along the kerb on the drivers side doors, then ground to a stop, and amazingly dropped the right way up on what was left of it's wheels. I drifted slowly past him and stopped. Okay, get a grip I told myself. Handbrake on, hazard lights on, get out before someone runs into you. Hi-viz jacket, I need to put one on before I get out, a frantic rummage through all the junk behind the seats and I found one, put it on and got out. A rather polite Spanish man stopped to check if I was okay and expressed his opinion of the other driver verbally along with a few internationally accepted hand gestures, then drove off into the distance before I could say much else, there goes my witness. The other driver had managed to coax his car to the side of the road on the two still functioning alloy wheels that used be part of a very expensive set. He got out and strolled over as cool as a cucumber and asked if I was okay. It didn't seems to bother him that both he, and his passenger, had come within a gnats whisker of pushing up daisies! Here we go I thought, but no protest was forthcoming, it was his fault and he knew it. Meanwhile his wife had turned up and was giving him a tongue lashing in whichever Scandinavian language it was, not sure if was for driving like an idiot or wanting to know who the leggy blonde was in the car with him, guess I'll never know, and don't really want to go there anyway. It turns out the guy is a purveyor of second hand high performance vehicles, so his card said, hence the big Audi. It did cross my mind that the reason he didn't seem fazed by the affair was probably this happens to him often, a bit like scratching a wheel trim to anyone else, and he would just get another car off the forecourt anyway. Both realising that a lack of Spanish was going to be a problem, he suggested we started filling out the accident form and he would ring his mechanic who would organise the Grua to tow the vehicles. Neither of us could find an accident form in our respective vehicles, I had no chance in the umpteen folders of assorted paper in the van, luckily his mechanic had now turned up and had one, that's when things started going downhill for me. One of the eccentricities of Spanish law is you are required to carry all your documents in the vehicle, unlike the UK. Great for car and identity thieves alike. If you get stopped by the authorities, it's fine unless you have already reported it stolen. Is this you car sir? No, it's a friends, I'm just borrowing it. And you have all the documents you need, log book, ITV, insurance (as long as you are over 26), along with all the receipts you'll ever need and probably a copy of the owners driving licence. So, off you go through France to eastern Europe, or maybe a ferry to north Africa and jackpot, sell it the first person with the required currency.

My problem was I could find the owners insurance, and I was starting to get 'looks' due not finding it, their faces said it all, here we go, uninsured. There was just about anything else you could want, an entire life history going back years, along with some large chunks of other people's too, but no certificate of insurance that wasn't years out of date. A desperate phone call to the owner in UK later, getting assured that what I was seeking was there, what I actually needed was the certificate that I had already found and the receipt to prove it was paid for this year. Apparently, if you renew a policy, you don't get a new certificate, just a receipt to prove you have continued paying for another year. The search continued, but this time I had a lots of help, eventually the receipt was found, relief just does not cover it, not even close. The tow trucks arrive, and both vehicles are taken away for assessment by the insurance companies, but not on Monday, it's a 'red' day, the Spanish equivalent of a bank holiday, but more so. On Tuesday the insurance asked me to 'pop in' half an hours drive away to show my documents, which they didn't actually want anyway. My friend asked for a loan car since the other side were paying. Sure, he could have one, come back Monday, so he declined, thinking his van would be back on the road by then. Wrong. This is Spain, it's August, just about everything is shut, and what is open works very slowly indeed. He could not see the come back in September look on their faces, I could, I've seen it before. The wait continues.

A point to note. The police were called at the time of the accident, and after getting across that no-one was hurt, therefore no ambulance was required, and that we had cleared the road and were not holding up the traffic, do you think anyone turned up? I'll give you a clue, it was Sunday and siesta time, guess. I have since found out what all those check boxes mean on the Spanish universal accident form that everyone is supposed to have, so will be better informed if it ever happens again, and will know what to do with it. I have learned, that if you go through a broker for you insurance, as my friend did, things taken a long time to sort, even by Spanish standards, that means forever. I now know of someone who had to pay for his own bumper replacing, then wait in excess of nine months to get the money back! I have learned that you only keep what you really need to in that little folder in the glove box, not your life history, maybe my friend (he's still speaking to me) has got that one too. It will save you a lot of stress at a time when you don't really need any more if you are in a similar situation. I have learned that not all men in their forties have outgrown the boy racer stage in their life. I still go round that roundabout several times a day, and I'm a little wary of cars on the inside lane, I've been carved up before there, but the last time was a little too close for comfort. And finally I have learned I can waffle on a bit sometimes, my apologies.

A Bit Of Something To Do

Although I hate to admit it, after a while you can get fed up with sunbathing! Sure, dog walking is fine, if a bit mad in the heat this time of year, and housework takes up a few hours, and I have run out of books. What I needed was a bit of something to do, a little job maybe. I did find a little bit of part time work, but all it really did was get me out of the house for a few hours and cover the diesel, and it wasn't exactly expanding my circle of friends much either, I needed more. Then one day it appeared, like a mirage, the holy grail of new ex-pats, the hardest thing to find in this climate, but it turned out to be real! A legal, on the books, paid, full time job!! It seems that all those phone calls I made and emails I sent finally paid off, I was taken aback when the phone rang and the guy on the other end asked if I was still looking for work, I wasn't letting this chance pass by, I ripped his hand off, so to speak. Okay, I'm not earning £100k a year working for Sir Allan Sugar, but then the job interview involved a lot of coffee and I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and my future employer did bring his friends along to pull my life to pieces in public either. So, I am now a pool cleaner. I know, I've heard all the jokes now, and some people still think it means spending my day on a sun bed sipping cocktails, afraid not. It's actually harder work than you might think and involves a very early start to get finished before it gets too hot, putting up with community presidents who like to show you who's boss and mess with things, one even wasted quite a lot of water because she thought there wasn't enough water in 'her' pool and left it filling for a few hours, most of which went down the overflow into the drains, never mind, I'm sure 'her' community will appreciate 'her' water bill. One president insisted on telling me how 'his' pool should be kept, I explained that I liked 'my' pools not to have a crust on due to sun cream because 'he' didn't make 'his' community members take a shower before swimming. Neither of them bother me much now, we'll see how it goes. I have now lost a few pounds and gained a few euros, along with a better tan and pool cleaners knees.

Fiesta Time

Last weekend there was a bit of a party atmosphere in Algorfa, where Linda and I now live. The highlight of the weekends celebrations was the parading of the Virgin Del Carmen through the streets of the village in the evening on Saturday. The twelve men carrying her looked to be struggling with the weight in the heat, they paused often, I am not sure if they were having a breather or it was part of the ritual. All the church bells were ringing at regular intervals, they had to take the doors off the church in the square to get the Virgin out before the procession started.  Both sides of the street were lined with people carrying huge lit candles, everyone in the village must of been there. All through the day, firecrackers were being set off, they were absolutely huge. We walked into a street were one was being set off and were guided a safe distance away, the street was then blocked both ends. Then what must have been a fifty foot long monster was then lit. The noise was absolutely deafening, you could feel the shockwaves and see the shop windows bowing from the explosions. You would get locked up in the UK for being in possession of fireworks like these, they would think you were a terrorist or going to hold up the local post office. While the parade was working it's way round the streets, we managed to find a small eatery with an empty table on the street, so we sat down for a bite to eat and a couple of beers. What looked to be the cheap seats in the house turned out to be some of the best. We were not sure which streets the parade was going down, as most of the streets had been blocked off, I suppose we just got lucky.  As our refreshments were served, the procession came round the corner onto the street where we were sitting, bargain. They crawled past us back into the town square, taking the Virgin Del Carmen back into the church. Then the main firework display started. How, in a place with just over 3,500 people living in, can they afford to spend that much on fireworks? The display was awesome, no other word seems to sum it up, they do their firework displays here in style, to hell with the national debt. There were no 'damp squibs' here, it must have cost well into six figure money, and would have put most displays in the UK to shame, even the millennium ones. What does it get like if they get really carried away? I guess we'll have to wait for the football season to start to find out!

Own four wheels

It may not be fast, it may not be new, but it's all ours and paid for. We are now the proud owners of an eight year old diesel fiesta. It's dent free, so we will have to get our own 'badge of honour', which probably won't take long, first trip to Torrevieja ought to sort that one! The insurance was cheaper than it would be back home, and it's any driver twenty six and over, handy when family visit. It came with a two year ITV, so we won't get the usual annual performance that you get back home when they always 'find' something that needs 'fixing'. We have gone 'native' and thrown some Hi-Viz vests over the backs of the front seats, and we'll see how things go. We will have to wait a while for the paperwork to turn up, the shear amount of random 'red' days, fiestas and the like, means everything 'official' is grinding to halt, and Spain seems to shut completely in August, so might looking at September. And now for the best bit, from empty to a full tank of diesel, change from €45! I asked the attendant (anyone remember when British garages used to have those?) to put €50 in and it wouldn't go! At home £50 of petrol for our old Seat Ibiza or Corolla wouldn't have touched the sides, this might be the start of some cheap motoring, we shall see.

A point to note, the police here must be wanting some bonus for the August holidays. It was mentioned in the local papers that someone had been 'done' for having a couple bags of shopping on the back seat on the N-332, a snip at €130! You can see the safety point of view, it should have been in the boot, but most people would think it's a little harsh for a first offence, maybe a talking to might have been better for public relations. We've all done it at home, we will have to learn not to, another quirk of driving in Spain.

Thank you

As of the end of June, I have broken the 10,000 page views mark for this blog. So, thanks to all who have read my scribbles. When I first started, I could never have expected it to be read by so many people. I hope I have given you a few laughs along the way. If I have offended anyone, it was not my intention, it can be easy to get the wrong end of the stick, so to speak, what passes for humour varies greatly from person to person. I will continue to write, but I'm sure there must come a point where there is nothing new to say, we will see. Once again, a big thank you to all.

The cucumber saga

The cucumber saga rolls on. I personally, have never had a problem with Spanish fruit and vegetables, the local farmed produce is usually a lot fresher and tastier than the supermarket stuff, and quite often much cheaper. The scare has now had an impact on the supermarkets, all now have signs up proclaiming the safety of the produce. Lidl has a large one up saying (guessing a little due to lack of Spanish) that they are proud to have Spanish produce on the shelves of their 10,000+ european stores, and will continue to support the Spanish farmers, a good vote of confidence from a German store. Now I see an article in the local papers concerning UHT milk, apparently, it is now of 'poor' quality. It's not unhealthy, as in dangerous, just lacking in vitamins etc. Most people out here seem to buy it because of the long shelf life, although I personally prefer fresh milk, each to their own. It seems that not a week goes by without one food type or another being put through the rumour mill, who do you believe? Maybe I should do as my parents, and theirs did, a little of what you fancy does you good. One of my uncles used to tell me that living a 'healthy' life does not mean you actually live longer, it just seems like it! And if you tried to eat one of our Linda's salads (she will kill me when she reads this), you'd have to agree with him, nothing worse than a badly presented, boring salad, it grows on your plate faster than you can eat it. Next week they'll be picking on something else, and the stress of worrying about what you can actually eat will more likely kill you than the food itself!

Moving on.

Our rental contract expires at the end of July and we had been struggling to find somewhere to move to with a reasonable price tag. It just proves that the rental market here, in particular long term, has had problems with bad tenants. The apartment we were supposed to be moving to was no longer available, the present tenant was having problems getting a mortgage for their new place. It's lucky Linda can talk for England while travelling on a plane. She got chatting to a couple who lived in Almoradi, who happened to have an apartment in Algorfa empty, but only used it for family and friends. They offered to show us round Almoradi, we accepted. The meeting point was the town square in Algorfa, since we knew where that was. They showed us round their place and passed on a few nuggets of wisdom. When it came time to go back to Algorfa so we pick up our car, they said we might as well look at their place there, since I had parked outside it. After a bit more chatting, including the people in the neighbouring apartments, a bit of a wander round, we were pronounced 'good people' and offered the place at a very reasonable rent. Deal done. It's a little smaller than we wanted, but not small enough to be 'seagull' proof. It's a the end of the village, so not overlooked and not too noisy, but still within five minutes walk of the square. Its also directly across the street to where we were supposed to be going. It won't take much to personalise it, and it certainly won't need the amount of cleaning this place took when we moved in. Life is certainly looking up. We picked the keys up today. It just goes to show everything will be OK in the end, and it certainly is good to talk, just like the TV advert used to say.

Thanks for the comments about the last blog. I now know how to say in Spanish that I do not need a carrier bag, I will balance my shopping on my head! I do not seem to have been understood, perhaps I should have been a little clearer. We do take our own bags to the supermarket. I was just pointing out that this 'new and green' stance by the supermarkets is not what it seems to be, and things here never change that quick. Like most things in life, money seems to be the motivation, it's not all as green as it's made out to be.

I was just finishing a glass of wine when writing this, Linda had gone to bed and was reading a book. There was an urgent shout for help from upstairs. After ten minutes chasing 'Colin' round the bedroom, those things can take a battering, it's worse when the little blighters run across the ceiling, I am now back outside finishing my glass of wine. Linda has decided to get up and have another glass, she can't face going back up on her own just yet. I did win in the end, and it's the first one we've had in, and I bet she does not leave all the windows open tomorrow night!

Plastic and paper

Before the environmentalists amongst you start screaming for blood, I do recycle whenever I can, and it's easier to do out here. The following are just observations from everyday life in the sun.

Plastic. Namely carrier bags. There has been a sudden rush to be 'green' out here by the supermarkets, supposedly. Or maybe its something to do with some rumoured tax changes. They have all started a re-use campaign, and charging for carrier bags, apart from Lidl and the like who have always charged. You now have to pay three cents for a bag, but to compensate you for this the bags are bigger. We were used to paying for bags back home and they were more expensive. But a carrier bag isn't just a bag here is it? After it has been emptied of shopping, most people give it a new life, as a bin liner! I have been coming to Spain for about thirty years and I don't remember it ever being any different. What I can't understand is why they think this will make people use less bags, who is going to 5+ cents for a bin liner, when the humble carrier bag does the job well enough at half the price. So, until someone produces an economical, and preferably biodegradable alternative, people will still use bags. Or maybe it's just a money grab?

Paper. And lots of it. I am now about to take a leap of faith, and really join the Spanish system. Forms and more forms. One of the English forms I am filling out now is for HMRC, I wonder if they realise how hilarious some of the questions are? Are you leaving for health reasons?? Of course I am! The weather is rubbish and decent food is expensive! So I am now learning to queue for a piece of paper, to get another piece of paper, which entitles me to queue for the piece of paper I actually need. Timber!!! There goes another chunk of rainforest.

Gone fishing

I'm not sure if I mentioned it before, but I went out and bought a fishing rod from one of the Chinese shops. The purchase came about because someone overheard a conversation I was having in a bar one evening. The bar owners husband likes to fishing on his day off, and he said that if I had 'the gear' I could join him. His suggestion was the local Chinese shop, so off I went, and spent my €14, and became the proud owner of an eighteen inch long plastic box. I didn't want to spend a fortune, and this 'kit' seemed to have everything I needed, apart from bait. At this point I must explain that I am not a fisherman, I have only ever caught one fish before, over thirty years ago! I was still at school, and went with a friend to the river Roding, which is about six inches deep. No sooner had I set up and cast out, and opened a can of coke, I got a bite! Chaos broke out, neither of us had caught a fish before, and hadn't expected to either. The fight to bring it in was hard, the fish wasn't giving in, but perseverance paid off, I reeled it in to the bank. What a whopper, it had to be the largest three inch stickleback I had ever seen! What next? We both ended up in the river trying to get it off the hook, so you know where I'm coming from. I digress. So, on a bright Saturday morning I parked up outside the bar, armed with my plastic box, a bottle of water and a 'sarnie', and a tin of sweetcorn. Why sweetcorn I don't know, I wasn't even sure where we were going, and I have yet to see it growing in a river or on the beach??? My friend came out still munching his breakfast, and said we would take his car, gesturing towards the mercedes he was slumming it in, and told me to put my 'gear' in the boot. He nearly wet himself. He was expecting a little more than a plastic box and a Consum carrier bag (I need to mention the supermarkets here have just started charging for bags, I will now have to buy bin liners!). We went to river in the middle of nowhere, and proceeded to unload his 'kit'. Folding armchairs, umbrellas, TWO fishing rods, and a coolbox you need an HGV licence to drive! We caught nothing, despite my guide for the day realising that the reason we weren't catching anything was due to a lack of beer, which was rectified by opening the bar in his coolbox. I enjoyed the morning out and decided I would go again. I have been a few times on my own and caught nothing, not knowing why, until today. Due to some observations, and a few comments in between fits of laughter by someone not much older than one of my grandchildren, I have seen the light! Apparently my rod is only half the size it needs to be (sure I've heard that somewhere before???), and you don't cast from a beach with a float on your line. You just use a large weight with a trailing line with your bait on, umpteen thousand locals can't be wrong, and by eight o'clock you can't get a spot on the beach! Did I mention I had wound the line the wrong way round on the reel as well? Come on, you can't look this good and have brains as well, can you? So I will be going back again, armed with the knowledge this time, and hopefully bringing something home for the table, a Lenguardo would be nice, anyone listening upstairs?

Second hand cars

Due to our car hire coming agreement finishing at the end of July, we will need to buy our own car. This is not an experience I'm looking forward to. Second hand car salesmen rank alongside estate agents and insurance salesmen in my view of things, not the most popular of people, but we will have to deal with them. The only difference I can see out here is they are dressed in shorts and shades, but I'm sure behind the shades, they are of the same ilk. Cars tend to be more expensive over here, not the big fleet car market like in the UK and they tend to last longer. They don't seem to rust, they don't have to use salt down south, lack of snow, it's rare. They do however, suffer from faded and blistered paintwork due to the sun, and dents. Lots of dents! They are like a badge of honour here, the more the better. Apparently, we don't actually have to resident to buy a car, just have proof of a fiscal address here, like a house rental agreement or similar, they just need somewhere to send the road tax bill to. You also need your passport and an NIE number, as with everything here. You have to be careful buying privately, if the person you buy from has not paid his road tax for a few years, when you buy it, the bill passes to you! How nice, so it pays to check. At home they would just tow your car away and crush it for not paying, not here. Other different ways here include the insurance, it's not the driver here, but the car that's insured, so anyone over twenty five can drive it, very handy when family come out, no need to keep changing the policy and paying 'administration' charges. It also includes breakdown cover, towing is illegal here, and medical cover for everyone in the car. So although it looks a little more expensive compared to the UK, you get a lot more for your money. There is also a spanish branch of Direct Line, so you can get help in english if needed, worth considering. We were considering one of those van type things that everyone out here seems to have, no bigger than a car, but loads of room in the back for suitcases when the family visit, boring, but practical. The trouble with them is the ITV system, the equivalent to the MOT back in blighty. New cars here, do not need testing until four years old and then every two years until ten years, then every year after that. The problem is that these vans with windows, although having car seating in for five people, are classed as a commercial vehicle. That means a test every year by the looks of it, and every six months at ten years old. Sod that for a game of soldiers! So, still wanting to be practical, a Yaris Verso, or something similar looks the way to go, as these are still classed as cars, and will serve our needs. It looks like we have sold our car back in the UK, so Linda will sort this out when she goes back next week, then we will have to look at this more seriously. A new car would be nice, but a bit more than we are prepared to pay at the moment, and we don't do a lot of milage, only the airport run, time will tell. I might need to stock up on paracetamol for this one, bound to get a stress headache, it will be the first time I've needed any out here.

The joys of driving in Spain

The joy of the open road, driving on country roads, windows down, just drifting along and taking in the scenery. I should be so lucky! Just when I think I've got it all worked out, I come across something else that leaves me completely astonished. Being British, it seems it's going to take a while to learn to become a 'good' driver by Spanish standards. Car abandonment, or parking in English. Only a tourist would attempt to use a single parking bay, whereas a local person gets a nod of respect for taking up four spaces with a Fiat Panda, I'm not sure how many you need to use for a Volvo estate, I'll have to ask. The newly reduced speed limits, why did they bother? Only non residents take any notice of them anyway, unless there's a camera of course, despite what the Government says in the papers. The toll roads are a good example. Lots of people are speeding before they get off the slip road, and the tolls are like drag racing start lines, perhaps they need something more along the lines of the French toll system, although that too has some faults. Going shopping in a village. Why use that nice parking space twenty yards down the road from the shop you want to go to, when you could use that 'special' place for 'experienced' drivers right outside the shop. You can't miss them, they are painted red and white, and stretch right across the road (a pedestrian crossing in English). Parking here here is the marque of a really good driver, but an 'expert' driver would double parked here, or just leave the car in the middle of the road with the hazard lights on, not as a warning though, but to attract attention to what they have done so everyone can see how good they are! Pedestrian crossings have a special meaning to Spanish licence holders, more so if they have penalty points on their licence. I am not totally sure of he legal standing, but to the casual observer, it looks like you must get points taken off you licence if you manage to hit someone on a crossing. Maybe that's why the red paint, it might help keep the place looking tidy if a few people are having a 'successful' day ridding those licences of endorsements. The Spanish equivalent of the plastic pig, but this one has four wheels. They are about the size of a Smart car, but have a motorcycle engine. The licence requirements for these is minimal, being alive is the main one, but there has been a mention in the papers here that one might not actually be required at all! But you do have to respect people that drive one, it has the all the street credibility of wearing a shell suit. (Remember those, how many people still have one hidden in a wardrobe? You can't throw it out or take it to a charity shop in case someone you know sees you! A bit of a dilemma that one). You must need a very thick skin to put up with being overtaken by cyclists all the time. As for speeding, no chance, you'll have trouble doing 30kmh going downhill with the wind behind you. The one that takes the biscuit though, from personal experience, was on a roundabout, and nothing to do with a 'Rita' before you even think it! (There is another story here, involving one of Linda's weird curiosities and a black BMW, another time, maybe). This one should have been on YouTube, and would have been, if we both weren't too shocked to get a phone out to record it. The driver in question, who was Spanish, somehow managed to turn LEFT round a triangular traffic island leading onto the roundabout! It must of taken quite an effort to manage to do it. So there we were, stopped less than ten feet apart, facing each other on the roundabout. This person was obviously not an 'expert' driver, he didn't put his hazard lights on to let me know just how good he was. His wife, made the internationally understood gesture for sorry, please forgive my husband, he's an idiot, and then went back to tearing a seriously large strip off of him. So, one of us had to do something, and it was not going to be the other driver, he now having a 'major domestic', and losing badly by the look of it. It was a tight squeeze getting round him, you can't just bump up the curb here, they are huge, quite often in excess of eight inches, and we left them to it, still having a row and facing the wrong way on the roundabout. Seriously though, it can be a pleasurable experience once you get out of town, where it is total chaos. Driving along, past all those olive and orange groves, the fields of artichokes and other exotic things, has a remarkably relaxing effect, it's all so very laid back, and reminds us why we came here in the first place.

PS. Thanks for your comment Jacqui, glad my scribbles give enjoyment to someone. As we are not yet fully in the system here yet, there are not many bad memories from here, most are good! Eating with friends takes on a new meaning here, none of this you have got the table for an hour and a half rubbish. Though personally, I prefer to entertain at home, and now have a growing collection of those brown dishes, Tapas evenings are great. We have spent many a night chatting with friends till the small hours, nibbling on tasty morsels washed down with a glass of 'tinto', it does not get any better! Family have now excepted the move, one daughter has now claimed wardrobe space, she travels with hand luggage only. We just get a text, got a cheap flight, will be out tomorrow on fight such and such, come pick me up! More than a sight change of heart from the original tantrums when we said we were going. She now manages to 'pop round' at least once a month. The other daughter is out this weekend, complete with one point five children, leaving her husband to watch the football and fend for himself. So only one 'guest' free weekend this month. We see more of them now than when we were back home!

Walking the dog.

Well, several actually. This afternoon we finally got round to doing 'our bit' for charity. Off we went, armed with some bottles of water, to a local dog rescue centre. We had volunteered to walk some of the dogs they have there, talk about mad dogs and Englishmen going out in the midday sun. After half an hour lost in the middle of nowhere, the directions were not that good, we found the place. Not exactly Battersea dogs home, quite small really, but when we got out of the car, the barking really gave the place away. So, 'dogged up', off we go in thirty degree plus heat. Linda had got one with a bad legs, mine had 'issues'. We both ended going back quite quickly, mine just didn't want to go anywhere, every few paces it just wanted to sit, must have been a union rep in a previous life, stubborn as hell. Lindas' one, despite being virtually unable to stand, managed to 'wash' the brakedust off of both drivers side wheels of our car, that's gratitude for you! Lindas' second walk was suffering from brain damage, walking in a line was not easily done, standing up was a big ask, this was one of the two dogs I could have taken home. My second walk also had issues, mainly it's own shadow, nervous as hell. This one had given me 'the look' as soon as I'd walked in, and no, it wasn't called Harvey. I didn't walk many more, between the few of us that were there, we managed to work through them all. But going back for the next one, in fact all the time I was in the kennels, the second dog I took out had been staring me out, and was the other dog I could have taken home. Those take me home eyes followed me everywhere, it was a close call, but not practical at the moment, so I went home without one. Off home for a shower and a well earned beer, feeling that I'd been some help, but I know they will be there tonight, those eyes will be staring at me when I go to sleep. So much for the swinging brick theory, despite what people say, maybe I have a heart after all! We will going back shortly for another session, this time with more water.

Dangerous tides.

Myself, my wife and eldest daughter, were spending this afternoon on the beach. As usual, Saturday is very busy, not just with holiday makers as lots of Spanish families also hit the beach at weekends. Someone appears not to taken enough care, and paid the price for it. The crowds have dispersed a little now, the person is surrounded my multiple 'officials', but there does not appear to be any relatives here. At least they have now covered him up, it looks like a man, but then I am a hundred meters away. Unfortunately, as the season has not officially started yet, the usual lifeguards and and paramedics that would be here, are not. I was engrossed in a book as usual, so not quite sure wether he died here or has just been 'washed up', but I do think this is something that children should not have to see. The undertow current can be bad here sometimes, please be careful when you go swimming, people tend to over estimate their swimming ability, some, like this man, will pay dearly for it. An hour and a half later he is still here, face down. It was incredible how many people have a morbid curiosity with things like this, and can't resist a closer look. Maybe it is time to consider putting the emergency services here at weekends before the season starts, it may save some lives, and the heartbreak that a family is now going through.

Stopping on

After much consideration, we have decided to stop out here in Spain a bit longer, despite the weather being strange. We have decided not to buy a house just yet, and so are looking into a long term let to see us through into next year, it seems to be the sensible thing to do until we are totally sure the area where we are is for us. We have made a couple of small forays into the Spanish system though. Getting things done out here usually involves lots of phone calls, and if you give an English number people just look at you as if you are daft, or never ring you back. I am now the proud owner of a house brick masquerading as a mobile phone, it even gets a signal sometimes! Having a Spanish number does have some drawbacks, you get a few wrong number calls. It took several attempts to convince a Spanish woman one evening that my name is not Jose, and I don't know anyone called Jose either, she just wouldn't take the hint that having a 'northern' accent means you are probably not Spanish. You also get the odd sales pitch as well, but these can be quite funny really. If I get a greeting in Spanish when I answer the phone, I usually reply in Spanish out of politeness, this leaves me open to what comes next, the sales pitch. They could be selling car insurance or telling me I'm a lottery winner, I have no idea. They rattle on for a bit in Spanish and it then goes quiet, this is a pause where I am obviously expected to reply to the question I have just been asked, if I knew what they had said I would. Time to drop the 'no hablo español, inglés' into the mix, some hang up a this point, some tuff it out in English after a a bit of a pause and a sigh, got to admire those ones, it must be really hard for them. They do give up eventually.

The other thing we have done is open a Spanish bank account, that really passed a few hours on, literally. Umpteen signed forms, countless photocopies of passports and NIE papers and a note from my mother confirming my identity and that I did not have a psychotic killer cat called Jaws, I was eventually given a bank account. No debit card though, that is an 'extra'. Unlike back home, where you get free banking, everything here costs, not much, but costs all the same. A debit card would be €15 a year on top of the fee for opening the account, so we went for the straight bank book. All we really needed was something to be able to pay bills from, there's  no nipping in with a paper bill and paying by cash or cheque here, they like to take it straight from your account. The last thing I was given before we left the bank was a pin number??? It was then explained to me that due to the magnetic strip on the book cover, I could actually use it a cash machine, thats why the pin number, how novel! Anyway, it's up and running now, just in case we need one for the rent or paying bills etc, and it will be cheaper than using an English debit card in cash machine anyway. We will see how things go, they can’t be any worse than English banks, can they???

Home alone for the week

Linda has gone back to the UK for a week, taking her farther with her that leaves me all on my lonesome. Her farther really enjoyed his stay here, just a little trouble with the high curbs, especially at night; we have not had any streetlights for well over a week on the main road outside our house. There seems to be quite a few streets with them out, no doubt someone will fix them eventually, this is Spain, so I’m not holding my breath waiting, and no-one has asked for a pound for the meter yet. Maybe this is part of the new energy saving drive they are having here, first drop the speed limits on the roads, and then turn the lights out to save a few more pounds, sorry, euros. Despite all the quotes in the papers, no-one actually seems to be taking any notice of the speed limits anyway. I do try to keep to them, but I am in a minority, with people regularly flying past me as if I were stationary. I even got asked by someone the other day as to what he should do, as people behind him were leaning on their horns in an attempt to get him to put his foot down. Don’t let them get to you I said, if they are late, they should have left in better time, stick to the limits, let them get the speeding fines. If you are at the front of a line of speeding traffic, the police are going to nab you, especially when the local coffers are running empty, and they seem to have sporadic bursts of activity every couple of months, sooner or later it will be your turn.

I have actually gone and bought a cheap Spanish mobile phone, having avoided it for quite a while. If you are trying to organise anything, and you get asked for your phone number, giving an English number gets you some funny looks, and you quite often find that no-one will ring you on it. So a cheap pay as you go seems the way to go, only need to top it up once every three months with five euros, just the ticket for those incoming calls. That should see the end of the ‘are you mad’ looks, till anyone sees the phone anyway, not exactly cutting edge, but it functions. Being portable has its advantages till we settle somewhere, and get a landline sorted out, although that may not be necessary. It seems quite common to use local companies, without a fixed line, and they provide a service similar to cable at home, but no wires, just a receiver on your roof, television, phone and broadband. Worth looking at when the time comes as they seem cheap enough, and they reckon to provide support in English, I wonder where the call centre is, it might even be in the UK! Wouldn’t that be strange?

I have been asked by one of the friends I have made if I fancy trying my hand at fishing, it sounds like it might be fun. He is making enquiries as to what licences are needed, and the equipment seems cheap enough, not worth buying expensive tackle till I have tried it. If I don’t catch anything, I can always nip down to Mercadona and buy a monster fish, and tell a few yarns about how it took two people three hours to land it, and of course get the photo with my ‘prize catch’. At least that way it may actually be safe to eat what I have ‘caught’ without making anyone ill, assuming it will fit in the oven. More shark anyone?

Do we miss the UK?

In a word; no. Perhaps not really would be more appropriate, I do miss family, friends and workmates, but I do go home (a strange thing to say really, because it isn’t) now and then, and we do get visitors. Do I miss waiting fourteen times as long to get the dustbin emptied and paying in excess of fourteen times as much for the privilege, no. Do I miss being able to do my shopping seven days a week, no. Do I miss being constantly on the go for one reason or another, no. Do I miss ‘English’ food, no. Ok, I did have a really bad urge for a corned beef sandwich one lunchtime, no idea why, but I got over it. It’s strange the amount of things I’d thought I would miss, but don’t. Sure, there are some customs here that are strange to us ‘Brits’, carrying ID all the time, roundabouts that you drive through the middle of (it took my son-in-law a couple of days to get his head round that one), and leaving your insurance papers in the car at all times as it’s the car that’s insured, not you (maybe that’s just in case someone can be bothered to steal your car, at least they won’t get ‘done’ for no insurance, how thoughtful). You soon get used to a different pace of life and the shear amount of new friends you find yourself making; it’s a very social place. I went for a walk to check if the pool had been fixed once, its only two hundred yards away, the journey took an hour and a half, got chatting to some of the neighbours on the way past. Everyone here just seems to be generally more ‘happy’. Of course you still get the odd person who likes to moan about things, a very British thing to do, but never actually complain or do anything about it, the Spanish would, and very loudly from what I have seen. So perhaps it is a no after all, you get used to the lack of stress. After going to a market this morning, driving back through a small town, I ran into a traffic jam. Easter Sunday, there was a religious parade going through the town. Back in the UK, I would have been trying to get round it or something in case I would be late getting where I was going. Not here, engine off, handbrake on, and watch the spectacle unfold, lunch was going to be a little later than planned, not a problem. Linda and I have really settled in here now, and it is ‘home’, we’ll see how the other parts of the master plan unfold. By the way, if when reading this you find it a little disjointed, it’s because it has taken me about three hours to write it, I am constantly breaking off for a chat with various neighbours going past, being ‘social’ has its price, and I’m prepared to pay it.

A week at home

We have just had a week at home to do all the things that needed tidying up, check all the bills were ok and catch up with the agent who is looking after the rental our house in the UK. What should have been a relaxing week catching up with family and friends, and putting the finances in order, turned out to a lot busier than we thought. It was amazing how quick the time went, and it was a struggle to fit everything in, but we eventually managed to, and I even managed a few hours in Manchester with a friend to grab some Sushi and a few beers. Linda, of course, found time to go shopping for those ‘must have’ items of clothing that she could not live without! Packing to go back will require some ingenuity to say the least, thankfully Linda’s father is coming out with us this trip, let’s just say there won’t be any spare room in his case either.

There has been some time to reflect on the issue of buying a property in Spain. The wheels have turned, and now my ‘stupid idea’, has become a good idea. So, we going to see if we can rent one of the smaller houses to see if it really does suit our needs, buying a house is not a problem, selling it again if we don’t like it is another matter, and the cost involved is not small. I can see the potential in a smaller house, in particular the type we looked at, and out growing it would not really be an issue, and the Spanish just go up when they need more space. Some of these single story houses now have three floors and a sun terrace, and the variety of ‘looks’ and options are only limited by your own imagination. A trial run would definitely confirm or trash the ideas that are now floating about in my head, and since I did not actually take any measurements, I am relying totally on memory and a few dodgy photographs which I took myself. Most of the apartments we looked at didn’t really work for us, not enough flexibility or scope to put our stamp on them. One was only four years old and the owners had only ever stayed one night, the day they signed the papers, the plastic coverings were still on the furniture that came with the property. The hunt continues.

Linda’s eighty-two year old father has come out with us for a couple of weeks, his first passport, and being a true Yorkshireman, he intends to use it a lot, just because it cost him ‘nowt’. The weather is not as good as I would have liked for him, but having said that, a least he won’t look like a lobster from falling asleep in the sun, which he is known for doing at home. He has got used to being told to go inside and get out of it for a bit, and being handed the factor thirty before going out again, and has now grasped the fact that even cloudy days here can get you sun burn. As dark mild is not on the menu out here, he’s on the bitter, and making his nightly two pints last longer, strong beer and sun do not mix well at his age. He has really got to like it here, and can see why we do, but is still in meat and three veg mode, we have yet to introduce him to prawns, squid and the like, but there is time yet. He has occasionally been persuaded to swap a pint for a glass of ‘tinto’, and enjoyed it. He’s eating a lot more healthy food as well, and has gone mad on the strawberries, the Spanish must send all the rejects to the UK, they are sweeter here, not the acidic rubbish we get at home, and not needing any sugar on is good for a diabetic. We’ll see how Linda copes with him on the return flight, coming out was ok, despite some hold-ups at the airports both ends. Spain may yet have to put up with him yet again, I think that he may be considering using his depleted winter fuel allowance out here, it goes a lot further. Time will tell. We will just have to take it in turns playing chaperone to him on a plane, unless he wants to go to Benidorm for the tea dances and bingo, not really us that. But watch the next TV series; he might be one of those people on a ‘Madgemobile’ running people over having got a drive on part!

House hunting

The time had come to start house hunting in amongst trips to the beach and sight seeing. Not that we are in a desperate hurry to buy, but I don’t think we want to be paying rent for too long, I consider that to be dead money. We have looked before, but not seriously, and house prices out in Spain have changed a bit to say the least. It seems despite the rumours, estate agents are still alive and kicking in Spain, the ones left are more determined and seem to be less keen in taking no for an answer. So we drew up a list of the various house types where we are that we wanted to look at, and a few in nearby towns, with a couple of apartments thrown in for good measure. The search criteria was fairly loose, must have a least two bedrooms (room for the seagulls to land), some sort of outside space, no point in having good weather and not being able to sit out in it, and fairly good access to local shops etc (I am partial to the odd glass of red with my evening meal, so having things within ten or fifteen minute walk makes sense, I have seen what the ‘Men In Green’ do to people they catch driving after having a few ‘shandies’, it wasn’t pretty, but that’s another story). Whilst both estate agents were not too pushy, what they wanted to show us were the properties they had some sought of exclusivity on, rather than what we wanted to look at. We did eventually get to see roughly what we wanted, it was more about the house types, what you could get for how much. This is where the differences of opinion between myself and the ‘boss’ surfaced, me being practical, her wanting more bedrooms and the outside space that everyone was telling her you must have. So, five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a pool, and all set in about two acres for £50k. Not going to happen, is it, not even in this climate. I want something fairly compact, easy to heat in the couple of ‘bad months’ in the winter, and easy to clean. Yes, you read that right, a man mentioning easy to clean. It’s me that complains about sand being bought in by the wife when I have just swept and mopped through, I don’t mind doing it, just put the earphones in, and away I go. I digress. We don’t have a large budget, these huge mansions you see out here are out of our league, we want to still keep our house in the UK, we don’t want to saddle ourselves with a lot of debt, the carnage from people that have is everywhere. As long as we have enough room for some guests, it’ll be fine. If the whole clan comes out, we’ll just rent somewhere for them, there’s enough rentals about, and I don’t have to maintain a huge house on the prospect of visitors. I think I’ll win on this one. I’ll rephrase that. The boss says the smaller house is a stupid idea, but she was impressed by the amount of space in them, give it a couple of weeks and my ‘stupid idea’ will be forgotten. Give it a month, and she will have the ‘idea’ of looking at some smaller houses, which she will like, asking why the hell had I dragged her round all those big houses that were not practical. It just takes a while for the wheels to turn. Watch this space.

A point to note for people thinking of buying out here, never, I repeat never, mention that you are thinking of buying when you are in a bar. We did. Oops. We had called for a coffee and brandy half way home after eating one evening, it seems that all of the dozen or so people in the bar had a house for sale, one woman had two! It was hard work getting away, and of course the word is now out, and it travels fast! You talk to people you see in the street out of politeness, you then get asked in for a drink, they then insist on ‘showing you round’. ‘We are thinking of going home or downsizing’ is the usual line, followed by ‘what do you think of the house then?’ It is really hard to be polite and tell someone you are not interested, perhaps they are out of work estate agents, you never know, they must have gone somewhere.

Lookie lookie men and chillies

One of our 'guests' decided they wanted to try tapas before they went home. I quite like this way of eating and everyone else was up for it, so tapas it was. We thought we would try a local place that had a good reputation and also had some good revues on the net. Every one in the family likes garlic prawns, so there were definitely going to be some of those involved. In broken Spanish, don't know why (there English is better than mine!), I took a brave stab at ordering some food. Got the wine, the bread and ali-oli, mushrooms and a few other things, right, prawns. There were none on show on the counter, so I had a quick scan of the chalkboards on the walls, pointing wasn't going to work here. Gambas ajzllo, hmm, definitely involves prawns, and looks to involve garlic in some way, so I went with that. I sat down, two pairs of eyes looking straight at me. What have we got then? A surprise, I said. I thought that was a good save, if we didn't get what I thought we were going to get, I could just say I thought we should try something different for a change. Things started to arrive at the table, I started to smile a little. Everything I asked for, and it was what I wanted. But wait, there was one dish missing, the prawns. At this point, there was quite a bit of frantic chopping going on behind the counter, then a couple of dull thuds, then flames shot up from the range the lady behind the counter was cooking on! My smile disappeared very quickly. The lady emerged from the kitchen holding an obviously very hot, large brown dish, and headed in our direction. I squirmed a little. As she got nearer, she held the dish a little lower, I sat bolt upright so I see what was in it. Yes!! There were some very large prawns in oil and garlic. I was now grinning like a Cheshire cat, and feeling quite pleased with myself. It didn't last long, and I now know what the two dull thuds were. We tucked into everything, leaving the prawns to cool a little. I am the first to try them. I stab a couple with my fork, and start chewing, they're fantastic, then it hit me. In my haste to enjoy them, I hadn't noticed the third item on my fork. The dull thuds were the sound of two very small, very red, seeds still in, birds eye chillies being bruised before being added to our prawns. I was now inadvertently chewing one of these with my prawns. Resisting the urge to drink any water I could find, I waited till the fire had died down enough for me to be able to speak in some form coherent manner. I then pointed out to everyone else that there were a couple of items in the dish they may want to give a miss. I wasn't going to admit to eating one, I'd have looked a bigger idiot than I already felt. The rest of the meal passed without incident, and the calamares were the best I'd ever had, not the usual rubbery stuff. The prawns were really good too, even if two of them were a little hot.

After eating, we moved on for a drink to a place with free Wi-Fi, so we could make a video call home. By this time, a member of our party was getting a little giddy from the tinto, so the conversation got a bit lively on both ends of the line. The phone got passed around so everyone could have their say, not that you needed to, the camera and microphone pick up everything. Things were going well, everyone catching up with what everyone else was doing. Then a lookie lookie man turned up, and started going round the tables, sunglasses and handbags, the usual stuff. He got to our table, pushed  his wares in front of the person who was on the phone. What happened next caused a few seconds of silence, followed by uncontrolled laughter from everybody, except the lookie lookie man. From the speaker on the phone came a voice, loud and clear, "they don't want any because they are rubbish!" That was not the actual word used, don't want to get myself in bother now, do I. He wasn't happy, and didn't hide it very well. The sales pitch was definitely over, and I don't think he will bother us again. Maybe you had to be there, the look on his face was priceless.

Alicante terminal 3, hmmm

The new terminal 3 has opened at Alicante airport to much hype. It seems that just about every local dignitary had gone to have a look the day before it opened, and there was a dummy run to make sure everything worked ok, and guess what, it didn’t. Lucky for us, we didn’t have to use it on the first day of opening. There were some real stories from people who had used it, no signs, no road markings (not that anyone here takes note of them), and lots of people wandering around in hi-viz jackets directing people when they didn’t actually know what was going on themselves! Since we had to pick someone up from there, we thought that we had better go a little earlier than normal; it looked like the usual 45 minute round trip wasn’t going to happen. There had been some attempt at changing the road signs, and someone had got the ‘dulux’ out and put down some road markings. You still have to go round the same daft roundabout, and then drive past the old terminals, where everything is closed up and has been moved. People where still trying to park there, some succeeding, and facing a long walk to the new terminal. Apparently, there was only one ‘official’ type person wandering around the old part, so advice would be thin on the ground. When we got there it wasn’t as bad as I thought, although the car park was only partially open on each floor. One good thing though, they have put in that marvellous system they have over here to show where the empty spaces are, and how many. If you have never used one of these car parks before, your first thought is wow! Why can’t they do this at home? It works well, a sensor over each parking space with a light, which is red for a full space, and green for an empty one. You can see for miles where the empty spaces are. And this one even has a sign at the end of each row telling you exactly how many spaces there are in that row. The fun stopped there. Signs for getting out of the car park were very few, and there is no actual walkway, so you have to run the gauntlet with the cars. When you find your way out, getting into the terminal is a matter of puffing your chest up and charging into the oncoming mass of people leaving the terminal, he who dares wins. This is because there is only one bridge into the terminal, and everyone goes through it. Once inside it’s not to bad, arrivals downstairs, departures upstairs, there are loads of escalators and moving walkways. Not sure about departures though, two rows of desks opposite each other, so the ends of the queues end up in a mass of confusion in the middle! The gates that the ‘seagulls’ come through, (apparently, this is the local term for ‘guests’, as they fly in, eat all your food, and fly out!) has more of an area for people to stand and watch for friends and family coming out. So, all in all not to bad an experience, though it looks nice, they could have thought a little more about the flow of people through the building. And unlike the first day, there is more than one machine available to pay for your car parking! Two points to note. If you are in a hire car, and forget which space you are in, at least your registration number is printed on the parking ticket. Secondly, the luggage carousels keep breaking down, as there are no trolleys inside, do not be tempted to go outside and get one while you are waiting. You can’t get back past the security! Many people did this and were separated from their luggage, wonder how they got on. Viva Espania! 

The weather improves, but the phone plays up

The weather has really perked up now, to the point where I got the sun beds out on the roof today. The combination of the sun and the largest sandwich you ever did see for lunch (no beer involved, too early in the day for me), and I fell asleep for an hour or so, I am now glowing a bit. I will need to be a little more careful for the next few days, at least I’ve tested the sun beds for when the next visit happens, which is looking like in about two weeks time, when our other daughter Lisa ‘drops by’.

Battle has recommenced with the thing in the kitchen posing as an oven. One of my purchases on the market was some nice looking red peppers, which I had decided to stuff with rice and few other things. I think I have finally mastered the beast, they came out done to a turn, along with some experimental flat bread, with could have used the garlic butter I forgot to make. Even Linda managed to eat most of one, despite not being a pepper person. They are so much sweeter than those back in the UK, and much larger, to the point that I struggled to eat two myself, despite having a love of peppers and a healthy appetite.

I have a contract mobile phone which I bought out from the UK, the package I have includes cheap calls to the UK and has worked well in the past. But I have had a problem with cellular data; I changed my contract before I came out to include 25MB a day European data as part of the bundle, so as to avoid nasty bills. I got a text from my provider saying my data was being cut off due to having spent in excess of €50. Having already spent the best part of three hours on the phone already since coming out here sorting this, I was more than just slightly miffed. After forty minutes of being told I wasn’t listening, and that the contract I thought I was on didn’t exist and never had, a few of my fuses popped. I want to speak to you’re your supervisor or manager please was my solution. She could put me through, but she wanted to know first why. Let me see, your company has taken money from me for a service that you say does not exist, then stops me from using the service, then has the cheek to charge me again for it, what would you call that? Words like fraud and theft spring to mind. And so I get to speak to the next person up the food chain. Would you be surprised if I told you I got exactly the same story? By this time my wife has joined me on the roof, no I wasn’t going to jump, it’s the only place where we are that the signal does not disappear on  a regular basis. She wants to rip the phone out of my hand and give the person on the other end some serious grief, but I hang on to the phone and carry on banging my head making the dent in the wall even bigger. She gets her phone and rings the same call centre I’m talking to. At this point I would like to point out to those people who design call centre systems that there is always an option missing. It should go something like: if you would like the idiot (sorry, call centre operative) you spoke to last time to self destruct, please press 9 now. It might prove popular, and would weed out the people who can’t do their job. I must point out I don’t mind call centres, just the people who work in them that have no idea what they are doing. She gets someone called Barry, not in the right department, but obviously does know what he is doing. He says he’ll put her through to the right department, i.e. the idiot I’ve just spoken to. After a bit of basically begging, Barry says he’ll help sort the problem. We swap phones, Linda tells the man I was speaking to he’s an idiot and cuts him off, and I start talking to Barry. All hail Barry, the god of customer services, and I’m not taking the mickey here. Within two minutes of speaking to Barry he knows what the problem is, and yes my price plan does exist, he sells them every day. Barry puts me on hold while he speaks to the idiot I first spoke to, to show them their error. No joy, they don’t understand. He then speaks to their boss, can’t get his head round it, no joy. You get where this is going. After Barry has gone about four levels up the food chain he finally finds someone who understands where the rest of them couldn’t, it seems that Barry seems to be the only person in that call centre that has any decent amount of product knowledge, all the rest wanted to do was paper over the cracks until I get back to the UK, I would then have to start all over again! It should now be sorted out over the next twenty four hours, we will see. If anyone from my service provider is reading this, the people with the little red punctuation mark as a logo, you know who you are, Barry should be running that call centre, and be earning a lot more money. I wait and see what happens, hoping that if I have to ring again, I get Barry, the customer service expert. 

Going to the beach is expensive

The first of the family arrived on Tuesday, and despite the changeable weather, were enjoying the break. So, on Wednesday, it was decided that they should see the local beach. Off we go to La Marina Playa, park up, and try to survive being sandblasted in the rather stiff breeze that lunchtime. After a quick peek and losing a couple of layers of skin, (quicker than one of those facial masks ladies), we head back to the car. The first of our party heading back through the dunes happens to see a silver car parked next to ours pull away, thinking nothing more than they hadn’t stopped long. When I go to open the drivers door, I realise there is glass all over the dashboard and there is a window missing. Apparently, the local criminal fraternity prefer hire cars; thankfully, we had nothing in the car and were well insured. We now have a Polo instead of a Fiesta, with no quaterlights to break in through. Rumour has it, that if we break this one, the hire company is going to taxi us everywhere, it’s cheaper for them. I have since learned that I should have removed the hire company logo stuck in the window, so as not to broadcast my willingness to get turned over, without realising it.

The weather is not up to much at the moment, I just need to keep in mind that it will improve soon, hopefully. Give it a couple of months and I’ll probably be complaining of the heat, some people are never happy. I am, however, eating lots more fresh fruit and vegetables than I would have at home, it is easier here, and it tastes better for not being shipped hundreds of miles. When you get over the lack of plastic packaging, and the fact things are not all shiny and polished, and the fact that nature does not produce vegetables of perfectly uniform shape and size, you start to realise how daft the supermarket system is back home. I am still having ‘fun’ with the Spanish style oven, it limits how adventurous I am with what is in the fridge, but I will master it, sooner or later. And I do have to admit to having a saucepan in one hand and a ‘tinto’ in the other whilst cooking dinner sometimes.

The weather did eventually improve, so our guests did get a day on the beach before they went home. And yes before you ask, the same beach, and yes the car is still in one piece, and it was where we left it. Our grand daughter Ruby, developed an unusual routine at bedtime, caused in part by the layout of the ‘quad’ style house we are staying in. After hugs and kisses all round, she would go up the first few steps to the turn in the stairs. There is an arch shaped opening there, she would then say goodnight and wave to everybody again. Then up some more steps, to the next turn in the stairs, and still being able to see everyone in the lounge would go through the entire process again. Bedtimes could last quite a while, and I still expect her little cheeky face to appear there, despite the fact that she has gone home. We won’t see her for another four weeks, when we go home for a week.

In answer to wend691’s question, we a staying on La Marina Urbanisation, maybe it’s not real Spain, but it is our first step, and easier going till our ‘spanglish’ improves.

While going to a bar for breakfast and to post this using their wi-fi, we had a small technical problem. The local weight watchers were in, and had taken over, not sure the owner was overly impressed, not good for business. Despite my urge to tough it out and order the largest possible breakfast on the planet, my warped sense of humour, we decided to go somewhere else, and ended up just across the car park.

The first week goes by

Our first week here is drawing to close, and the weather hasn’t been too bad, despite one day of serious rain. The house has had a few more adjustments due to it being a little cold this week. It has been fine during the day, just cold first thing and during the evening. We have solved this by tracking down where the drafts were coming from and the use of a temporary heater, all is now fine and dandy on the temperature front. Shopping at the market was a great for the fruit and vegetables. Lots of variety and really cheap, you could almost go vegetarian here, if it wasn’t for the prawns, chorizo and ham. We will be going again before the first visitors start to arrive on Tuesday.

Taking advantage of the good weather, we went to Guardamar Del Segura for a stroll along the seafront, great for burning off the late breakfast. Last time we went there we soaked to the skin, not this time. The ‘sand art’ there is amazing, the size of the pieces and the shear amount of detail, they must work on them for hours.

I am now starting to miss friends and family. The first visit from family will be quite soon, but visits from friends might not happen while we are out this time. Ringing them just isn’t the same, maybe a little home sickness is creeping in, or perhaps it is just having time on my hands after a stressful few months. We are making friends quite easily here, albeit mostly of the English variety. We bumped into a couple we saw last September, they had just moved over here for a year, and watching their furniture being delivered on an articulated lorry on these small streets was quite entertaining. They have settled in ok and really getting into the swing of things, but still in shock from the price of second hand cars over here. A 12 month ‘special’ at home, costing around £600, is pushing five times the price here. I’m not sure if he has been ripped off, but knowing the liking of paperwork here, I would not be surprised.

Mobile internet at the bottom of the urbanisation here is useless, unless you are using Movistar or Yoigo, the reception for Vodafone and Orange is pants at the best of times, and even worse indoors. Thankfully there is a bar not too far up the road with free Wi-Fi, and it is quite empty on a Sunday morning, great for Skype to see the grandkids and family etc. The trouble with only being here five months is, it’s not long enough to get the landline switched on, that will have to wait till a permanent move is on the cards.

We finally get there

We have finally arrived in Spain. While we were waiting for the call to board, having just scraped through on the luggage allowance, I noticed someone buying currency. Can you believe they were actually accepting an exchange rate of €1.03 to the pound, what a rip off. The flight passed without any bother, picking up the car went smoothly, but slowly, of course. We even found the house without getting lost, quite impressive really. Linda is now settling into the new ‘Spanish’ lifestyle, just a few furniture move rounds, a few throws for the sofas etc, just to make the place more ‘homely’. She is now sat on said sofa watching ‘corrie’, lifestyle change complete.

The house was as we expected, although this one was a little more ‘live in’ than ‘rental’, with all the trappings of people with time on their hands. There are mountains of books everywhere, everything from women’s home remedies to a large Jeffrey Archer novel by the looks of it. Looks like I won’t need to buy any books after I have read the one that work bought me, must be enough here to keep me going for at least six months! I was hoping for a decent oven this time, some you win, some you lose. It is the usual top and bottom grill type affair, although this on does have a fan too. Unusual, or so it seems to me, is the time on it. The oven won’t work without this being turned on, might get interesting when trying to cook anything fancy.

The weather was rubbish when we first arrived, cold and windy, not the best of starts. It got worse. Whilst going for a walk to get something to eat, the heavens opened, and it threw it down. Apparently, they have had a bad winter, and it is dragging on a bit. Thankfully, on the second day, the big orange thing put in an appearance. Amazing what a few hours of sunshine can do to ones mood, I even got a bit domesticated. I cleaned all the balconies, swept all the paths outside, and had a reasonably successful attempt at rescuing the barbeque. I think that’s enough work for one day, need to save something to do for tomorrow, and I think I have done enough to earn a beer.

We managed to find some free Wi-Fi yesterday; well it was really forced on us almost. One of the ‘locals’ insisted on going to the bar and getting us the password, very helpful. It will help to keep the bills down for keeping in touch with home, and posting here as well. The phone signal round here is poor as usual, I will have to see if anyone else can get better reception on any of the other networks, it might be worth investing in a Spanish sim card. Time for that well earned beer I think.

Stress!!

Stress! I can’t believe how stressed out I am now getting. There I am, out in the garden, in the rain, finishing the last jobs outside. My wife then decides that this would be an excellent time to sort out my tiny CD collection! There she is trying to sort stuff out, with the aid of a bin liner, can it not wait I asked her, “no” was the reply. So off with the muddy wellies again, and back into the house, with the door nearly hanging off its hinges I slammed it that hard. Eventually, after exchanging a few choice words, we decided it was much easier to do the gardening during daylight hours and sort the CD collection in the evening. The atmosphere has yet to return to total normality yet. The day did not get off to a good start either, that probably didn’t help much. Linda is having trouble a private pension she has with the Prudential. It’s only a small one, but what the hell, it all helps. She applied to have it paid out at the end of January, and they still have not managed to get it right yet. And before you ask, yes, the call centre is in India, or somewhere like it. The penny now seems to have dropped now she has put a formal complaint in. We are waiting for one form for her to sign, but they keep sending out one saying she is single, despite numerous calls explaining that she is, in fact, married. The best of all is when we asked for it to be emailed, thinking they would be up to date with their technology. “We can’t email it to you, but we can fax it”, hello, earth to Prudential, come in Prudential. Yes, we have a printer that will accept faxes, but, because you have waited so long to sort yourself out, we no longer have a phone line to attach it to. As explained to you on numerous occasions, it’s now cut off, we are leaving the country!  It’s a really good job we were not depending on this money. We now get phone calls from the UK asking if it’s arrived yet, no. Though this one is supposed to be coming by ‘special delivery’ with the Royal Mail tomorrow morning, I’m not holding my breath. Even getting this posted is a small miracle, and deeply stressful. Our mobile broadband needed topping up, what a performance. Top up online, what a good idea, if you don’t keep cutting me off, and of course it is after eight o’clock, so all those nice people in the call centre have gone home. Got there in the end. I really need a holiday after this lot, if anything goes wrong the other end, I will have a nervous breakdown. Yes, I know, keep the faith; it will all be alright on the night. Won’t it?

A week to go

A week to go to our departure to our taster of life in Spain. The decorating is coming to an end, and the packing now needs to start. Linda has decided that we are going to have some posh new suitcases, though personally I’m not bothered, but I suppose they will get some use this year. I will not be going ‘home’ as often as her, only the odd return for birthdays etc, whereas Linda will be nipping back on a regular basis, grandkids. Most of these flights have already been booked, the wife being a bargain hunter, so the trips don’t put too much of a strain on the budget. We will taking some advice we got from people about our NIE numbers, we will be making quite a few copies and keeping the originals in a safe place, apparently replacements can be time consuming to get. We will need them to open bank accounts etc, and you never know, we might just find ‘that house’. We have some friends who have already made the leap and bought, it will be interesting to see their purchase, and find out how they are getting on with getting all the services sorted.

Packing for this trip is going to be a challenge, as it will mean taking most of our lives with us, all those things you wouldn’t normally take. There will be a few times when we will get ‘re supplied’ from home when people out, but hopefully not too much, we might have to take it all home again! We are taking the laptop this time, but have bought a smaller, lighter one. The photo albums are being condensed onto a digital photo frame, it saves choosing which ones to take. That seems to be about it on the technology front, apart from the phones, and Linda’s hair straightners. The clothes, I’ll probably just lay everything out on the bed, and then keep taking stuff away till it fits in the case and is under the weight limit, leaving room for that favourite shirt. The beach towels will be bought out there, that will save some weight, same for the toiletries, just enough to get by for the first couple of days. Anyone know if there is a Primark near Alicante? I could get away with taking less t-shirts.

We have now been ‘cut off’ by most people, the phone didn’t work this morning, and some people did try ringing and got number unavailable, which provided a bit of a laugh. It always rings at the end of ‘corrie’, not anymore. The furniture and T.V.  go on Saturday morning, other things keep disappearing at regular intervals. I went to cook some breakfast yesterday in the microwave, only to be confronted by a blank space in the utility room where it used to live. Things like this really bring it home to you, it’s really happening and the nerves are setting in. Life is also getting very busy; I’ve not even hade time to write that much either. Linda is finding it harder; she has never actually had to move before, having lived in this house since she left home. Well, back to it, I will hopefully get the chance to write a few more lines before we actually leave.

Linda finishes too

Linda has now finished work as well. She came home Friday and said “what the hell have we done?”, “well there’s no going back now.” After spending all day clearing things out and decorating, it’s really hitting home. The stuff you come across is beyond belief, we found a couple of boxes of photos in the loft, very hard not to spend a few hours going through them, although Linda did spend an hour or so “peeking” in the boxes. We have now made arrangements to borrow some loft space from other family members, some things you need to keep just in case, so the winter clothes are getting sealed in “vac bags” too stop them going “foisty”, and away they go. Not sure I’ve spelt “foisty” right, but I’m sure you know what I mean. Along with these will go the saucepan set we got for our wedding, and the odd electrical kitchen appliance that we have actually used, the deep fat fryer went to a car boot sale ages ago. One thing not being kept is the museum piece Amstrad “word processor”, yes, the ones that had black and white screens, anyone remember them? All told, the piles are getting smaller, and fewer. The half empty paint cans are now fewer in number too, it seems many of them were the same colour, they just got “lost” in the garage.

We’ve been clearing the kitchen cabinets too. Our booze is on the top shelf of one of these, with the glasses on the shelf underneath. Not having to worry too much about alarm clocks going off, we have been “using up” some of the half empty bottles. In the corner of the top shelf was an unopened bottle of Romanian brandy, which not wanting to open it, I decided to give this to the father in law. He came up for lunch today, and the brandy was placed on the kitchen worktop for him to take home. He’s eighty two by the way, and a true Yorkshire man, as in pay nowt. He prefers Ron Miel, but finding it around Alicante seems difficult, this may not be his favourite, but costing nowt, it would go in his coffee, no problem. Lunch was roast pork, with the vegetables all thrown in together with a good drizzle of olive oil, and left to roast. This emptied the olive oil bottle, which Linda duly washed out, and put on the worktop to be taken out for recycling. Time for Frank to go home, coat and cap on, “don’t forget the brandy”, “right” was the reply, and off he tottered down the hallway clutching a square green bottle for all his life was worth. Perhaps some of you have guessed where this is going; the brandy was in a round clear bottle. It seems in his haste to escape with the free brandy, he’d picked up the first bottle he came across, namely an empty olive oil bottle. It seems glasses are now in order as well as the hearing aids! And before you ask, I didn’t have the heart to let him take an “empty” home.