"When you're going through hell, keep going", grief process interrupted, my father writes about his feelings for my mother, Omicrom Covid variant, now a Spaniard thanks to Brexit, a day spent in hospitals, and other stories.

 Sunday, 5th December

I am now the proud bearer of a Spanish passport and ID card after living in Spain for 40 years

Good morning all, this first Sunday in December.

This week I came across a famous quote from Churchill which applies perfectly. He once said "When you're going through hell, keep going". Well I am going through hell now and am following his words. My father would agree as he always taught me to "go on" in the face of adversity. It is easier said than done. Another great line from England's most famous statesman is  "never, never give up" and I won't. 

You may have noticed that I didn't publish my weekly blog post last Sunday. It's one of the first times I haven't since I started writing in 2005, the year my dear father came to live with us. He would have wondered why and asked where it was.

Well, last Sunday I was in no state of mind to write anything. You probably thought it was because I was grieving. I was but my grief process has been interrupted by something awful that has happened to us. So I was in no mood to write. The bottom line is we have a squatter in our own home who is difficult to evict. He stopped paying at the end of September and stopped being the "perfect guest" ever since. He went from being the supposed perfect gentleman to becoming an intimidating and defiant squatter who told me "he had the upper hand". He has no right to be here as the terms of agreement were verbal and were for reservations of up to 10 days  or more on occasion; the condition being after each reservation he either had to leave or renew his reservation. When we involved the police he promised to leave on Wednesday 24th November but there have been nothing but excuses since. To evict him involves filing court cases both penal and civil but the law is slow in this country as it is in most. The law also errs on the side of the squatter. I kick myself for ever having come into agreements with him to prolong his stay. But he groomed us with his charm and we never saw this coming. From the end of September until the show down and still until this week he kept promising to leave and to pay us but none of it was true. He even threatened us with one of his latest excuses: a robbed camera from his room which he said he had to file a report to the police in order to claim insurance. I since read that false claims, if this is false, are a crime themselves. He threatened the police would be coming to inspect the house and take finger prints. We soon realised this was baloney as they would need a search warrant. They never came of course. 

When he first came I googled him and came across articles from 20 years ago where it seemed he had uncovered corruption cases in the Russian government. That seemed dangerous but a good thing. Since then I have read more and you can too in these articles where he is described as having a record of being a conman, an extortionist, a swindler, a charmer too as well as a thief and blackmailer. These words are from the press, not mine.   You can read more about him in the New York Times and El País. These articles are from 1999 but we spoke to the journalist from El Pais who is still their correspondent in Moscow and he confirmed what he had written then. What a murky world is described in these articles. 

Since the showdown on 19th November when we found out from his supposed bank and ours that all the transfers he promised he had made were nothing but thin air, his perfect guest behaviour has changed. He is now a threatening presence, coming and going as he pleases as he has the keys. I honestly don't know how he has the cheek to continue to stay here. We heard from the police and read in one of the articles, that this is not his first time as a squatter that he has done it before, not paying and being reported; often with elderly couples, like us. 

Since the showdown he has hardly slept here which proves he has somewhere else to live.  He stopped driving his little Fiat vehicle a rented car from Bipicar and it is has been parked on our property for about 3 weeks now without him moving it. We did not rent him a parking space so I would like to see it go as soon as possible. 

The supposedly abandoned car on our property

Since he has learned of us filing court cases, he has become even more threatening and I wonder what he is scheming. You are probably wondering why we don't just change the locks but I'm afraid that in this day and age we are not allowed to do that. So we just put up with him. 

Meanwhile our life had to continue. We had my father's  room painted to use for guests. We bought new beds, mattresses and linen.  We have however kept his spirit and essence and the room remains his with all his books, etc. Despite the nightmare situation, I continued my correspondence with the Russian librarian who had written a booklet on the Lieven family.  She sent me (in installments), the short biography my father had written about my mother and which he had sent to her for the booklet. My father, usually rather laconic and "prim" or "stodgy" as he describe himself, had though included some sentences about his feelings for my mother which are gold to me. This is what he said about her - thanks Andy for the translation: 

"How should I describe Elena’s personal qualities in a few words? We were married for 46 years. I am a withdrawn, and possibly even slightly stiff Englishman. She was an open, soulful  Russian. But despite these contrasts and differences of character,  we loved one another. I miss her very much. She had a sparkling sense of humour, like her father. She was the centre of attention, comical, and always had something new to relate. These qualities were particularly noticeable in the last few weeks and months of her life when she was dying of breast cancer. When she was in hospital in the cancer ward one of the doctors saw a Russian prayer book on her bedside table, and asked her if she read Russian. This was a Dr Anikin, born in the city of Kolomna. Elena asked me to present him with a copy of “Lirika” (the book of her father's poems that she published) In return he gave her a pot of honey from Kolomna!

Elena shared some qualities with her father, apart from her sense of humour, which I have already mentioned. Of the six children of Father Andrei  she was the only one who understood and valued poetry. She was the only one who knew his poems by heart and recited them. 

Another quality she shared with her father was her ability to console people, especially women, neighbours  or students who turned to her for advice and help and trusted her with their secrets.

Despite all these positive qualities, like any one of us she could become sad,  but the last words she said to me, in a barely audible whisper, were “everything is fine, I’m all right.”

Wow, how wonderful to read these lines. They will be part of the book I eventually write about my mother. 

The days continued but often our normal routine was disrupted with events we could not for see. We had to do the shopping, run the house, look after guests but I could not sleep nor did I have much interest in food. One good thing is that I am losing weight and fast. The main focus was gathering evidence for the new court case. I keep thinking what a horrible year it has been. We lost both dogs, Miguel's father died, then my own dear father and now this, not to mention all the troubles with getting Suzy out of Costa Rica. We do not deserve this. One thing that did make me laugh though this week was a comment from our dear family friend, Andy who said "Well, your relatives got rid of Rasputin, I am sure you can get rid of xxxxx". Damn right we will. 

I haven't followed the news much either but am aware as we all are that Covid is on the rise again. This time the big threat comes from a new variant first detected in South Africa called Omicron. Scientists don't know yet whether anti Covid vaccines are resistant enough to it. The issue is that for those who are not vaccinated it poses a greater threat. Governments are scrambling to come up with new restrictions. Numbers are on the rise and booster jab programmes are now in place. Eladio had his third jab this week and mine should be soon.

There was sad news from England this week. My dear friend Kathy's father, Brian, died aged 90 after fighting cancer for years and looking after his wife Jean until he took his last breath. My sympathy lies with Kathy and all her family. Her father's passing away comes at a difficult time as she also has to care for her husband Phil who had his shoulder replacement removed after a very virulent infection. Life can be difficult at times. It certainly is for both Kathy and I at the moment. But she is a strong woman as I am and we know that we will come out on the other side stronger than ever before. There have been times I have despaired these last two weeks but I keep thinking about my father's advice and what Churchill used to say "if you're going through hell, keep going". Of course we have to keep going. 

That's what I did this week when on Wednesday 1st December I went to a police station where I had an appointment to get my first Spanish ID card and passport after Spanish nationality was approved. The process had taken about 2 years and has cost in the region of 2000 euros. And all this because of Brexit. Thank you David Cameron, Boris Johnson and all those idiots who voted for Brexit. I didn't and wasn't allowed to although it affected me most. Anyone who has lived outside the UK for more than 15 years cannot vote. I often wonder if all the Brits like me who lived in the EU when the referendum took place had been able to vote, whether the outcome would have been different. Most probably so. I have lived for 40 years in Spain and until Brexit never considered applying for Spanish citizenship. There was no need until then. However with Brexit my EU citizenship was stripped away and that is unacceptable. So if I wanted it back, the only way was to apply for Spanish citizenship. In Spain dual citizenship with the UK is not allowed. In the UK it is. Thus when I swore allegiance to Spanish laws I had to renounce my British citizenship. So I gave it up in theory and had to say the words - ouch - in practice I can continue to use my UK passport as the UK government doesn't recognise Spanish law on this issue. But in Spain I am not supposed to have two passports so cannot use my UK one here. Stupid right? On the bright side, I got what I wanted; an "EU passport". 

It was a big day for me and I had very mixed feelings about the step I was taking. In the UK there would be a citizenship ceremony for anyone becoming British. Not here. The process was cold and bureaucratic. Oli accompanied me with Juliet on "my big day". Once at the police station I was told I was missing the second half of my new "birth certificate". I had it at home and we had to return for it. Once back at the police and with all my papers in order, I was very soon handed my Spanish "DNI" (national identity card). Over the years I have got used to being asked for it and having to say I don't have a DNI but a residency card, a "NIE". So finally I have one. It's got a really easy number too as the first four digits are the same. Oli captured the moment with me holding my brand new ID card.

Holding my first ever Spanish ID card (DNI)

After I got my new DNI, I was escorted to the counter where my new passport would be processed. That didn't take too long and soon I had both documents in my hand as you can see in the photo illustrating this week's post. The process doesn't end there though as now I need an appointment at another police station to get what is called a "certificado de concordancia" - a certificate to prove that I am the same person as with my previous identity. It will be this week coming.  Until then I am a bit in limbo vs a vs my identity in Spain. 

What I haven't told you is that with my new Spanish nationality, my name changes or rather I now have 2 surnames. I am no longer Maria Lloyd. but Maria Lloyd Lieven.  You may not even have known that I am called Maria. Well, I am. All Marias in Russia are generally called Masha which is how I am known by everyone.  But on official papers my name is Maria - a name I don't respond to by the way. In this country  everyone has two surnames, one from their father and one from their mother and, by the way, women keep them when they marry and do not take on their husband's surname.  For example my girls are called Olivia and Susana Freijo Lloyd. These days the order of the surnames can be reversed.  I could have opted for Lieven Lloyd but chose to keep Lloyd as my first surname.  That means I am now called Maria Lloyd Lieven - my mother's surname. I think that she would be very pleased about that. 

From the police station we went with little Juliet who behaved like a saint all day to have lunch out together. Both Oli and I thought we deserved it. It was perhaps the most relaxing few hours since before my father passed away. Oli took me to a restaurant in Pozuelo called Sentidos Gastrobar. There we had a great meal which was  big treat for me.

This week I have been picking up Elliot from school as Miguel was working. That meant I spent quite a bit of time with my grandchildren and Olivia in the afternoons. That was a relief from all the stress of our current situation which could go on for months until the squatter is evicted. But it was hard work too and reminded me of when our children were so small. It's funny but you tend to forget the hard bits. On Thursday Miguel fell in and was admitted into hospital with acute tonsillitis.  He was better on Friday and that day we didn't have to take Elliot to school or pick him up. Instead I spent most of that day in hospitals.

A while back Suzy discovered a lump in the middle of my back which I hadn't noticed. This week it got bigger and changed colour so we decided to go to A&E. Otherwise an appointment with a dermatologist wouldn't be for another week or so. We went to the Hospital Monteprincipe at 11 am. I was shortly seen by a doctor who determined it was an abscess that was infected and needed to be removed surgically that very day. Gosh! I googled it and read immediately that the infection could spread to the rest of the body quickly, especially the brain. I had to wait 3 hours which I'm not complaining about as the lump was removed by a surgeon - a lovely guy from Cádiz in the south of Spain. He showed me what he had taken out - a horrible piece of flesh, mostly puss which was very large and after removal needed 4 stitches. I was home for a late lunch. It began to hurt soon after and I wondered how on earth I was going to have a shower with the bandage on. I should have asked the surgeon. There was no rest for the wicked that day. At 7 we set off to another hospital, the Quirón again, this time for an MRI on my knee. You probably know I have water on my knee and it hasn't gone away. I will get the results in a week's time and have a follow up appointment this month. The doctor who ordered the MRI wanted to rule out any injury to the meniscus. Time will tell.

On our way back I was wondering what we would have for dinner. It was Friday night, the night we usually go out for dinner but we haven't done that for a while. On the spur of the moment as we approached the supermarkets near home, I spied the  new hamburger joint, Carls Jr. and suggested to Eladio we go and have a hamburger. This meant breaking my diet but I thought we needed a treat. We both loved our hamburgers and the chips.

There was no sign of any of our 7 guest when we got back. The 6 scientists and the tattooist have been out most of the day and don't really cook so they have been no bother. They would all leave the next day when another 8 guests would arrive. It really has been a very  full house this month. 

Saturday came and it was the dreaded change over day - preparing the vacated rooms for the new guests. Lucy did most of the work which I supervised. Eladio handled the new mattresses and the heavy stuff. We actually managed a walk yesterday, my first in a long time. It was sunny but chilly and the fresh air did me good. I made our lunch and by about 2 all the rooms were ready. Lucy left for the weekend. This weekend is a bank holiday or rather Monday and Wednesday next are which means a lot of people take the days in between from holiday time and thus they get nearly a week off. We would have loved to go away to Montrondo but with the current situation that is not viable. We had guests arriving too at our house in Asturias where I'm afraid the forecast is not good.

I spent the afternoon waiting for the news guests. First a group of 3 young boys came from Barcelona - they are indoor football players and as soon as they had settled in their rooms, off they went to take part in a match I think. The other guests, a group of Venezuelans who live in Portugal were supposed to be coming at around 4 or 5. They didn't come until 8.30 which was a bit late as we were having dinner at Oli's. Thus dinner was late.

It was during dinner that I realised that yesterday 4th December, little - or not so little - Juliet turned 3 months old. That is quite a milestone. We all commented that she is  receiving a lot less attention than Elliot was with his milestones. That'r probably because she is such a little saint, bless her. Meanwhile Elliot is going through the "terrible two" phase with lots of tantrums which are driving his parents mad. But he behaved well last night.

Little Juliet turned 3 momths old yesterday

Oli made a lovely salad for dinner out of lettuce, pumpkin, pomegranate, chicken and walnuts - delicious. Miguel made a tasty vichyssoise. Dessert was "turrón" (Spanish Christmas nougat) which Elliot is very fond of. He has definitely inherited his great grandfather's sweet tooth; mine too I suppose.

We had to leave early as our Venezuelan guests had brought a 3 year child not declared on the booking. Thus we had to get out a folding bed and all the bedding needed, Thank God we now have enough of everything. 

We ourselves slumped into bed late and watched part of a silly film called "Goodbye Germany". I slept relatively well and was awake this morning at 6 am. It was my friend Jacqueline who reminded me that my dear Fátima, my sister and soul mate, had passed away 2 years ago today. Oh how I miss her. In these difficult times I would have turned to her and she would have helped. The same way I still feel my father's presence here and when I do the food shopping thinking that I no longer have to buy his biscuits for example, I feel my friend's. That's because Fátima lived nearby and I go past her street so many times. 2 years ago I was in Montrondo but when I heard she was on her death bed, we got here as soon as possible and thus I was able to be with her at the very end; just as I was with my father. Oh Fátima, my dearest, I hope you can see me and your family. You left a great bit gaping hole in our lives, one that can never be filled. I have a few of those holes, scars of life I'm afraid. You too would say "never, never give up".  Bless you and thank you for being by my side for more than 20 years. I'll never forget you.

With my dear friend Fátima on my 60th birthday, 2 years before she died 

Thank you Jacqueline for reminding me that today was the day she left us. 

And now it's time to leave you and get on with my day. All our guests are asleep right now as it's quite early. We shall have a very quiet Sunday - maybe, maybe, we will put up the Christmas decorations although my heart isn't it in this year. Rest assured it will be soon as while I am going through hell, I shall keep going. Thanks Sir Winston for that.

Cheers till next week my friends when I hope I have some better news.

Till then, Masha.