Waking up to sunshine in Sowerby Bridge, Hebden Bridge, visiting Heaton Grove and Bradford Grammar School, meeting Michael at Betty's in Harrogate, to sleep like a "Siberian marmot", goodbye Yorkshire, home again, my DNA ethnicity revealed and other stories.

Home again, Sunday 27th November, 2022 

I got a very warm welcome from Simon the headmaster of Bradford Grammar School. Here in the heart of the school, the Price Hall, when I visited on Monday. 

Good morning friends and readers. I can't believe I'm home again. My 7 days in Yorkshire flew past. It's never enough but I packed a lot in. Let me tell you about it. 

Last Sunday I woke up in Sowerby Bridge. Amanda's brother Simon and his wife Gill were the perfect hosts and my goodness what an amazing house they have. Their hospitality was top notch and it was a wonderful feeling to be their guest. I felt so welcome. So thank you for everything. I was up at 6 am and when it got light the sun came out - possibly the first  rays of sun I saw during my 7 day stay. I went out into their amazing garden to feast my eyes on all the beauty around me. It was a tonic to start the day that way. Here are some photos so you get the gist of what I am trying to express.

Simon and Gill's wonderful house and garden in Sowerby Bridge

It was the perfect weather for a walk, my first and last if you don't count walking in the rain shopping in Leeds on my second day in Yorkshire.

My friends took us to Baitings Reservoir which must be a favourite walk for them. Oh how lucky they are as the setting and views of the Pennines are a sight for sore eyes. It was sunny but blustery and rather cold for me, despite wearing 3 layers of clothes, hahahaha. Amanda was the photographer that day and here is one of the photos she took of us to remember it.

At Baitings Reservoir last Sunday

From the reservoir which wasn't very full  we set off to Hebden Bridge. It is a large village which is quite upmarket and a bit of a tourist destination. I think my first date was there many years ago. It was Kevin W. who took me there. He only found out after a couple of dates that my father was actually his teacher at Bradford Grammar School and was horrified hahahhaha. I had been back once I think but loved it last Sunday as it was full of life. It's quite the cultural centre of the area and is apparently Britain's lesbian capital. Sadly, though, it is also famous for its suicide rate, something Simon told us. This article explains more.  The real reason is drugs. That is why the local police call it "Happy Valley". A famous Yorkshire detective series is actually set there and also called "Happy Valley". So Hebden Bridge,  that picturesque  little Yorkshire town which seems very vibrant has a very dark side to it. 

We didn't see the dark side and felt like tourists. We parked at the station and walked into the centre through a beautiful park and across the Rochdale Canal. I love the canals in Yorkshire built during the Industrial Revolution and I love the locks too like the one in the picture below that Amanda took. 

By the canal in Hebden Bridge last Sunday

The place was thronging with people and lots was going on. What was good was that the shops were open so we could escape the cold and wonder in and out of beautiful shops like the one below. 

One of the beautiful shops in Hebden Bridge

I loved the cobbled streets too which felt like the setting for the Hovis advert  which only those my age will remember. 

The main street in Hebden Bridge last Sunday

I couldn't quite believe people were eating outside but that's Yorkshre folk for you. They are made of stronger stuff.  There was an outdoor market open too and I would have bought lots of things if I had been staying longer or had more room in my suitcase. I only wish I had bought a great big mug with the wording  "Yorkshire born and bred" which I am not actually. Sarcastically, Simon told me another version and it is "Yorkshire born and Yorkshire bred, strong in the arm and thick in the head" which I completely disagree with. Yorkshire people are the best in England my friends and the warmest. 

A table was booked at the White Lion pub. Thus I was able to experience one pub lunch during my week in Yorkshire. It was a great one too, as most are. The food was divine but we were all very good and only had a mains. I would have died for the sticky toffee pudding but had to resist because of my diet of course.

Soon it was time to part ways and say our goodbyes. Simon was taking Amanda back to Sowerby Bridge from where she would get her car and drive all the way back to Devon - at least 8 hours and in the dark. Gill, very kindly, drove me to Keighley where I was to spend the last 3 nights of my stay. We arrived in pouring rain but soon I was inside Kathy and Phil's lovely warm lounge where the fire was blazing. Phil and Kathy are not just wonderful hosts, they feel like family to me. Thank you my dear friends. 

We spent the whole time chatting, from about 5 pm until we went to bed at around 11.  As Kathy said "Oh I could talk for England". Well, as you know, I can too hahahaha.

Monday morning came and it was to be a memorable one. I had arranged a quick visit to Bradford Grammar School where my father taught from 1964 for 20 years. I went to have tea with the headmaster, Simon, who has been such a support since I first got in touch with him when my father turned 100. 

I took a taxi and asked it to stop outside our old house - 6 Heaton Grove  - on Manningham Lane; about a 10 minute walk to the school, a walk my father did every day he went to work. We moved there in 1964 and my father, Charles Courtenay Lloyd, lived there until 2005 when he moved to Spain to live with us. Oh that house was such a vibrant, international home where everyone was welcome. My mother would be proud of my renting out rooms to people from all corners of the world. In my youth my very progressive and welcoming parents - mostly my Russian born mother -  let me bring anyone I wanted home to visit, to eat, to sleep, whatever. Everyone was welcome. So in my teenage years I would hold parties, big parties, nearly every weekend. My best friend Amanda's brother Simon was a BGS pupil and that's how our friends, our gang, our crowd, boyfriends and flings were sourced from the school. It was a bit awkward sometimes because my father was their teacher. He would often hide  but my mother loved all our gang and would prepare food for us at midnight, all of us sitting round the long pink formica table in our huge kitchen. Those were the days, my friends. My parties were so successful I even needed a gatekeeper. That was Mark Ashley, one of the school's best rugby players. Anyone reading this who came to the Lloyd's Heaton Grove parties would agree they were the place to be in the 70's in Bradford. 

As I stood outside "my house" in the rain of dark November, I had so much to reflect on. Heaton Grove was really a happy place, an unusual home to be brought up in rather conservative England for those days. This the house, the only house I have ever felt a real  attachment to. It had 4 floors, 20 rooms but just one bathroom and one separate "bog" which my brother and I used to fight over. Today, houses have en suite bedrooms but not back then when it wasn't even an issue. You will have seen 6 Heaton Grove before but  here it is as seen on Monday morning in the rain, still as solid as ever, with its wonderful Yorkshire stone. These houses were built for German wool merchants during the Industrial Revoloution and are magnificent still today. 

Happy memories of Heaton Grove

From my old house, I consciously walked in my father's footsteps to his old school. Everything was so  emotionally  familiar to me. When I left England in 1981 or went to University in 1976, all I wanted was to get out of Bradford which I hated (the city, not the county) but now in my golden years going "home" is so nostalgic. Walking along Heaton Grove and then on to Manningham Lane, opposite Frizinghall meant so much to me and reminded me of my own walks to school, SJC, a bit further along from BGS. First I walked past the entrance to what we used to call "the snicket" - a quarter mile narrow, steep path which leads to Heaton. It's a bit of an eerie path but I had to have a photo.

The snicket by Heaton Grove

I also walked past The Turf (pub) where I spent many an evening which is now  a curry house. It is right across  the entrance to  Lister Park which is so beautiful. Built by Sir Titus Salt who gave fame to Saltaire, I was flooded with memories.

The entrance on Elm Hill to Lister Park on Manningham Lane

As to the school, well, it is magnificent. This is how I saw it last Monday morning. It is, I think, Bradford's saving grace. What a place to go to school to. 

Bradford Grammar School as seen on Monday morning

It was not my school but I feel intimately linked to it because of my father and all my old friends (and boy friends, hahahaha). I was there to see the headmaster Simon who is  a very busy man but made me feel so welcome. He made it feel like home and it is in a way.

We sat and had tea and coffee in his lovely office and had lots to catch up on since we had last met for my father's memorial events back in May. I wanted to know all about the arrival of King Charles in his helicopter on 8th November. I only later reaalised that he had visited on the 1st anniversary of my father's death. But what an honour for the school. Simon explained that royalty always use the grounds for landing there when visiting the area. Apparently though, the school is not allowed to publicise the fact. But when the school posted a couple of pictures on Twitter, the local paper, The T&A, caught whiff and it made headline news and so it should except that Simon got into trouble with the Palace hahaha. This is the photo he took when the King arrived with all his detail. 

King Charles arriving at BGS this month

Normally royalty use the grounds to land but don't visit the school. But on this occasion the King wanted to (nice gesture). Instead of taking him inside to meet the staff, Simon suggested he greet the boys and girls who were all outside waiting for him with their little British flags. He spent 20 minutes there, longer than his programme allowed, to the joy of the pupils. Thus Simon never got a photo with him. He did with me though, hahahhaa, and I have chosen it as this week's feature photo.  Also because, bless him, Simon reads my blog.

Simon had more news for me. He had been up to London for an Old Boys dinner that weekend where an illustrious old pupil, Sir Stephen Morris, now a high court judge, gave a speech where he mentioned my father who he said had a big influence on him. Imagine how my heart swelled hearing that. Then totally coincidentally, Simon also included my father in his speech, about the strength of the larger BGS family which I think he now includes me in. He showed me the seating plans for the dinner and I recognised the name of one of  my first boyfriends. I will not go into details. Suffice it to say he was drop dead gorgeous at the time. 

Over tea in Simon's office, I had a favour to ask. One day I want my grandchildren to spend a month or a term at my father's old school, so as to get a complete immersion into an English school and improve their knowledge of my mother tongue. I got a resounding "yes". Thank you so much Simon. I would love Elliot and Juliet to have even a fleeting experience of what it is like to go to Bradford Grammar School where their great grandfather once taught. 

Before leaving we had a photo together in the Price Hall. I know it well too as once I was in a play - yes, Don Quixote - when the school needed girls for the female roles and of course they turned to my school, a  girls only catholic grammar, right next door. 

I left feeling good and very happy. The next item on the agenda was visiting the city centre, to do more shopping at M&S. Phil and Kathy were to pick me up so until they arrived, I walked into the city as my father did thousands of time. I didn't used to when I lived in Bradford,  preferring to go by bus, but on Monday I wanted to walk. Once in Bradford, once again I was flooded with memories, this time of shopping with my Mother. We would go into her bank - Barclays where she would get lots of cash out. Then we would go to C&A to buy clothes.  I particularly remember buying "midi" and "maxi" skirts there which probably looked awful on me as I was short and dumpy then - probably still am. Then she would take me to the Acropolis a semi Greek cafe where I loved to order a "rum barbar" which probably added to my being so "dumpy". She would have loved the new Broadway shopping centre. But I would have preferred to be able to go Busby's or Brown and Muffs.Never mind, Broadway would have to do. 

While shopping, I was completely ignorant to the fact that England was playing their first match in this year's very controversial World Cup being held in corrupt and repressive Qatar of all places where not just homosexuality is equal to a prison sentence but where human rights are ignored and alcohol is banned. England has an easy group (Iran, USA and Wales). Spain's group is tougher that includes Costa Rica. Japan and Germany). Well, in Monday's match where classes stopped for BGS pupils to watch from The Price Hall, what was music to my ears was that the Iranian players refused to sing their national anthem. This was of course their sign of  support for the pro freedom demonstrations in their home country. I wrote to my Iranian guest, Shabnam "there is hope". I wonder though what that means for them when they get home; big trouble I think; so they were very very brave. On the other side of the coin, neither the British nor the Welsh team wore their armbands in support of gay rights which they were supposed to do. England beating Iran 6-2 was not the news. The news was that they bowed to FIFA and the corrupt Qatari government by not wearing the arm bands. 

But back to my shopping that morning as a free woman in the western world - lucky me. At M&S, often called Marks and Sparks -  I bought more clothes and lingerie and then had a quick foray into Boots to get more (not really) "essentials". Coffee was at Esquire's Cafe where the coffee looks more like dirty water. I also went  into the Food Store where I picked up some healthy "nibbles" to contribute to lunch at Kathy's sister's  house later in the afternoon.

Liz, who also reads my blog, bless her, had kindly invited us over and we spent a very pleasant afternoon and evening with her catching up on lots of family stuff.

It was early to bed again and I slept well. Tuesday came and it was my last full day in Yorkshire. My last day in Yorkshire was to be in Harrogate, one of the "poshest" towns not only in Yorkshire but in England.  If you haven't been, go, it's beautiful. I was to meet Michael (Forte) at Betty's (of course) for lunch. Michael was my father's pupil of Russian at BGS and we had last met 50 years ago!!!!! We had been in touch but had not seen each other. He has fond memories of my father and we would have lots to talk about. 

But first for a bit of shopping in the town. Phil and Kathy drove me there, bless them, and also had lunch out. We parked at the Victoria centre in a multi story car park. They were keen to go into TK Maxx  - an all sorts of type shop where you can find bargains. I was more interested in visiting WH Smiths, another British shop I love. There I bought Christmas present stickers and a set of cards for any occasion. I wandered out onto Cambridge Street with lots of enticing shops. I promise I did not mean to buy any more clothes but could not resist a jumper I saw at Next - not a shop I usually go into. It was just so colourful. This is it.

The  jumper I bought at Next in Harrogate

I had the assistance of a girl called "Misha" (I'm Masha) so she was obviously of Russian origin which made for an interesting encounter. I walked out feeling good again. There is nothing like buying clothes that look good on you to give you an uplift.

I didn't need an uplift that morning as just being in Harrogate, knowing I was going to my beloved Betty's to meet an old friend from 50 years ago, was enough to make me feel on top of the world. I went early to queue up and make sure we got a seat in the first dining room looking out on the Cenotaph rather than being ushered to the downstairs dining room where there are no windows. That room meant a lot to me as years ago,  before Eladio and I were married I took him there for tea one afternoon at around Christmas time. I have a photo somewhere of me in a white jumper with my long hair smoking (impossible today) while my dear future husband kept taking photos of me. Was I aware then I wonder if we would still be together in our old age? I don't know. All I know was that I was deeply in love with him then and still am today. I feel lucky. I had to wait for my table of course but I had plenty of time so looked at the beautiful window display where you want to buy everything but can't. I did though get some fondant cakes for the girls. 

Beautiful Betty's in Harrogate

Michael was bang on time and it was lovely to see him again. I told him he looked drop dead gorgeous - he really is a good looking man with beautiful blue eyes. He paid me the same compliment. I don't look bad but OMG I hate my wrinkles hahahaha. In 50 years, we had aged of course; gracefully I like to think. 

We both ordered tea and fish and chips. I hadn't had any while in Yorkshire and this was my chance. I got the waitress to take a photo of us. This is one of them to remember the moment.

Lunch with Michael at Betty's in Harrogate on Tuesday. 

Would you believe we talked so much I couldn't even finish my delicious fish and chips? We had so much to say and not much time. Honestly we could have talked all night I think. We have a lot in common; our roots, my father, his teachers at BGS, our own careers but not our education. Michael got a scholarship to study Russian at Oxford. I was never good enough even to contemplate going there but then again BGS was an Oxbridge conveyor belt and the teachers were so much better than mine at SJC. But I didn't do too badly getting a 2.1 in Hispanic Studies at Nottingham. Before leaving we took a photo of each other. This is Michael and below a radiant me. What a wonderful reunion. We have agreed we won't wait another 50 years hahahhaa.

Michael and I at Betty's on Tuesday

Dear Michael kindly walked me back to the Victoria Centre where Phil and Kath were waiting for me. We hugged and parted until we meet again which I hope is soon.

It's about a 45 minute drive home to my friends' house in Utley (Kieghley) and we were soon home with our purchases. As usual I got dressed for the evening, aka putting on my pyjamas,  so as to curl up on one of my friends' comfortable sofas in their front lounge. They put the fire on which I have to show you as it is such a beautiful fire place. It made the atmosphere cozy and warm. Thank you Phil and Kathy once again for your amazing hospitality.

Phil and Kath's fire place - love it

I sat with a glass of wine I nursed all night until unbelievably I was hungry again. Kath prepared me some ham and salad and life was good. We watched the BBC 10 o'clock news and it was dire - rail strikes,  nurses' strikes, rising prices and of course the World Cup. Would you believe the BBC did not cover the opening ceremony? Good for them I thought. 

My eyes were shutting just before 11 pm and that night I slept, to quote my father, "like a Siberian Marmot. You probably don't know the expression. Let me explain. Once when Phil and Kath were staying, Phil asked my father how he had slept and that was his answer. I sort of presumed it was a typical Russian expression he used in English but I later looked it up and it comes from the German "schlafen wie ein murmeltier" but the word Siberian is not used so maybe my father added it for extra emphasis. Apparently a marmot sleeps for 6 months of the year. My father loved words and their origin and I think I do too although I have never studied etymology. Michael has and it was my father who introduced him to the subject. My father was very proud of his Sanskrit etymology book  or dictionary which I'm afraid he threw away when he left Bradford. 

Unlike a Siberian marmot,  I woke up early on Wednesday, the day of my departure, but luckily fell asleep again until 7.30. I woke up to foul weather but I didn't care. 

Dark and wet in Yorkshire on my last day there. 

I had all the time in the world to pack and more, so off we went to Sainsbury's for last minute shopping. I got food for my journey and to take home such as cherry tomatoes, sliced beef and ham, humus, pineapple and mango, as well as Eladio's favourite; "smoked mackerel". I also remembered to get this year's Christmas pudding. I was very luck to find crab meat and got 2 little packets. This would do both for my lunch on the way and our dinner at home and more. Most importantly of all, I got each of my daughters a  packet of jelly babies. Later I would also get some smarties. When they were little my parents who visited us in Spain at Christmas, Easter and in the summer always brought them these very English sweets which they still love today. You see, yet another memory I cherish and a tradition that I have carried on from them. 

Of course I needed another suitcase for everything I had bought in England. Thus Kathy returned the one I had lent her when they left Spain last month. When Raj, from Oxford taxis, arrived at 1 pm or so, he was supposed to bring both of my suitcases down my friends' typically very steep English staircase. Poor Phil who is shortly to have a shoulder operation, carried down the large one. So once again I was standing there saying goodbye to my wonderful friends; my family in Yorkshire. No doubt we shall see each other next year but I always wish we lived near each other.

Raj, who, like Danny (taxi driver from Keighley to Sowerby Bridge), must think I am entertainment as he brought his wife with him for the journey - 1.5h across the Pennines to Manchester airport. We chatted non stop, that is Raj and I. His wife didn't open her mouth. Amazingly, the skies cleared and I enjoyed going over the moors into Lancashire with sheep grazing in the fields - a typical image of Yorkshire. By 2.30 or so I was at Terminal 3 and very shortly through check in. Unbelievably, even security was quite quick. I hate it today. Thanks to Bin Laden and his liquid bombs in the 11th September drama, passengers today can only carry up to 100ml of liquid and it has to go in a clear bag. Then you have to take your belt, watch and boots off, take out all electronic equipment and finally you are standing there feeling as if you are nearly naked. I got through all right but hated the process. I have read it might be soon be the end of liquid allowance and getting out your laptop etc, owing to new scanners being introduced. 

Meanwhile, my daughter Olivia and family were having a grand time in Valencia where they went for a week. Neither Eladio nor I knew they were there until Oli sent us some lovely pictures taken at Bioparc (a sort of humane zoo). They are so lovely that I have to share them with you. Ah and there is another one where Oli, Elliot and Juliet are all eating pop corn. So funny!

Oli and family having a good time in Valencia this week

I only wished I could be with them and not in the departure lounge of Terminal 3 at dreary Manchester airport. I somehow whittled the time away and amazingly my Ryan Air flight was actually early. Thus I arrived after a very boring journey at 8.30 Spanish time instead of 9 pm. As I am a seasoned traveler, I was through passport control really easily. The best news when I switched my phone on was to see Spain had thrashed Costa Rica 7-0 in their opening match. I also read Germany had been defeated by Japan in another surprise defeat, similar to Argentina. Maybe Spain's opener was a fluke. We will see. 

Once in the baggage retrieval lounge I couldn't believe my eyes that the Manchester flight carousel was already in motion and my suitcases were there before my eyes. I only had to walk out of the old Terminal 1 (the fastest) and up to Departures where it is easier to pick people up from. And there was my dear husband arriving in our old Volvo just as I walked outside. So, a really smooth journey indeed. Ryan Air did an unpleasant job quite well.

It was much warmer in Madrid - 13c at 9 pm - which felt veritably warm compared to Yorkshire. Once again I reflected that one of the main reasons for living in Spain is the weather. We were soon on an empty M11 and M40 and within half an hour we were home. Dear Pippa went ecstatic when she saw me - me too to tell the truth. Eladio took all my luggage upstairs, bless him and I just got out the Sainsbury's food for our dinner as our cupboards were completely bare. 

It took me a while to unpack as I had so much luggage. I so enjoyed my shopping spree mostly at M&S, Boots, Sainsbury's and Next. I now have new clothes and underwear which should last years. I must remember to throw my old knickers away now.

I managed to sleep rather well, not quite as well as a "Siberian Marmot" but I wasn't complaining. I was up at 6.45 on Thursday morning and you know what? It was not raining and the sun came out later. That's Spain for you. 

I woke up to a quiet house with only one guest - Roger. Pilar came on Friday and left this morning. I got more last minute guests so the house has been full this weekend which is amazing for November.  Tomorrow I have a new guest who is bringing a great big Harley Davidson. He wanted a place with a garage for it so I suppose that is why he chose our house.  

We should have gone for a walk but had to do the weekly shop as there was not one piece of fruit left. Off we went at around 10.30 and went straight for Mercadona. From there we drove to Alverán for our morning coffee which we had inside as it wasn't really warm enough to be outdoors. Our last stop was at Carrefour Market for the gourmet stuff and by 12ish we were home. 

I left Lucy to unpack and make our lunch as I had an important job to do; renew my British passport online as it had been pointed out to me at Manchester Airport that it runs out in August. As I filled out the form online I read that it can take up to 10 weeks or more. Luckily, I now have a Spanish passport if I want to travel while the renewal is being processed. The only difficult part was getting past the photo check. Eladio tried several times until one was finally approved as "good". I didn't think it was good; it was awful. Smiling is not allowed and your mouth must be shut. Thus this ghastly photo of me looking rather down although I didn't feel it. I will now have to live with this photo on my new passport for 10 years. When that runs out I will be 75!!!! OMG: 

The awful photo for my new passport

I have kept my first passports, probably like many of you do, and dug out my very first or maybe second; I don't know. In any case it was issued in 1973 when I was just 16. So, wait for it  - 49 years ago, I looked like this; a bit down in the mouth too but so, so young. 

My 1973-1983 passport which I still have. 

Where have the years gone? How can I now be facing old age? I don't know. One thing I do know is that I still want to travel as I still have the itchy feet syndrome passed on to me by my parents. Anyway, I finished the process which was quite easy - and placed my current passport into an envelope to send to HM Passport Office in Hemel Hempstead the next day. It had to include a photocopy of my new Spanish passport - every single page even if they are blank and there are over 30 and the cost was 116 pounds which I think is extortionate. 

Lunch was lovely; just the two of us in the dining room served by dear Lucy. I spent a lazy afternoon and watched the beginning of "This England". It is about how Boris Johnson and his government, including Dom Cummings, dealt with Covid and they don't come out looking too good but it all seems so real and so recent. The actor playing Johnson is marvelous and the voice is just his. Makes for chilling watching though. 

Just as we were finishing dinner Suzy arrived back from a 4 day trip to Santa Pola. She came in beaming and looking refreshed. I gave her the jelly babies and smarties I had brought from England, just like my parents used to, and the little Betty's box with 4 mini fondant cakes. Suzy was the one who pointed out that Betty's was founded in 1919, the year my father was born. How uncanny and oh how he loved that Swiss Yorkshire tea room which used to have a branch in Bradford when we first went to live there in 1964. 

Friday came and FB once again showed me memories from the past. One was a photo of me 10 years ago at Yoigo chairing what we used to call "Yoigo Mornings" a sort of staff meeting.  I was wearing the very same M&S blue and off white knitted dress I wore in England this week and it's still going strong. To quote my friend Sandra I am "the woman in stripes". She is right, I love them.  Here I am 10 years younger.

Me 10 years, the Corporate woman in stripes

I wondered to myself if I missed the corporate world and you know what? I do not. It was a battlefield out there, especially for a woman in Spain. I far prefer getting my retirement pension and being an Airbnb and Booking host. I really enjoy it. 

It was Black Friday this week but I didn't take a blind bit of notice. The day also brought some sunshine but I  didn't know if if would last but I did know that we would go on our walk that morning with Pippa. It did last for our walk but was bitterly cold for us at about 10ºc. But I loved the sunshine.

A cold but sunny walk on Friday morning with Eladio and Pippa

My walk was rather interrupted by my hosting business. A Chinese girl called "Sky" began messaging me to rent a room for two this weekend. After a hundred questions, all of which could be answered by actually reading the blurb on the listing, she booked. Sky was coming at 2 then at 4 then at 6 then at 9.30 and finally arrived at 11 pm that night. She messaged me all day, even after her arrival. I was so tired that it was Eladio, for once, who received our new guests. Sky's friend was hilariously called "Weewee" - even he chuckled. They seemed to love the room, especially the almonds, chocolates, flowers, fresh orange juice and filtered water we always provide. She sent me this picture from "The Green Room" - my favourite room, bless her.

Sky, my Chinese guest, happy to be in our house

 After our walk and with the lunch bubbling on the stove and looked after by Lucy - "cocido madrileño" - Eladio and I went out on morning errands. First was coffee together, then a trip to the bank to pay some taxes and then to the post office to send my current passport to Hemel Hempstead. On our way home we stopped at Mercadona to buy essential ready cooked chickpeas for my "cocido".

Just as I got home, I saw a flash message from "My Heritage". They had the results of my DNA ethnicity tests. I was intrigued and couldn't wait to see them. Thus lunch was late. So here is the summary of where my origins come from. Only 11% is English my friends:

My roots revealed after taking the DNA ethnicity test on My Heritage

In order, my origins are from:

North and West Europe: 35.5 % (Germany, France, Netherlands, etc but not Scandinavia) 

East European: 29.3% (Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Hungary and neighbouring countries)

Irish, Welsh and Scottish: 20.5 % (My grandfather was Welsh and his mother Irish)

English: 11% 

Balkan: 2.2% (that's a surprise)

Mesoamerican and Andean: 1.5% (the biggest surprise)

What surprised me most was that I am 35.5% North and West European when neither of my parents or grandparents were from there. I had expected English, Welsh, Irish, Russian, Baltic and Scandinavian but not North and West Europe.  I also got some DNA matches to  people  My Heritage have in their data base. They are mostly of distant and very distant relatives. They live all over the world. I have found a few "Sculls", my paternal grandmother's maiden name. My great grandfather had lots of brothers so that may explain it. 

I was so intrigued with the results there was no time for a siesta on Friday. Besides I had medical appointments. At 16.15 I was to have a stand up X-ray of my knees to determine their state vs a vs having an operation on a torn meniscus or not. At 16.50 I was to have a follow up consultation with the traumatologist. He more or less told me my knees have degenerative arthritis and that the issue of the torn meniscus is not as bad as the former. He advised me against an operation if I am not in pain. Well, my friends, I am not, so am very relieved not to have to go through an operation which would have me literally "on my knees" for probably a month. I nearly skipped outside I was so delighted. I shall just have to live with this slight disability

Once home, I had an hour to kill until my final medical appointment. I got my flu and Covid booster jab (Pfizer for once) at 6.30 on the dot. The flu jab was in my left arm and the Pfizer in my right. So far both hurt just a little bit but, thankfully, no other side effects. 

I was home soon but out again later. I had booked a table at La Flaca which opened recently very near our house. We enjoyed a quiet dinner together while in the background we could see England playing the USA. It ended in a boring 0-0. Tonight Spain plays Germany and that will be a tough match.

Saturday dawned and brought more sunshine.  That morning, workers arrived to mend parts of the drive where the tiles are broken - probably because of the weight of the cars. It was in dire need of mending especially as I have now burst a tire twice on my Mini for which I blame the broken tiles.  The problem has been to find the exact same tiles and these are a slightly darker colour. Here is the WIP (work in progress):

Tiles being replaced on the drive yesterday

We had an estimate from them which was very reasonable but as things normally go, it went up as we pointed out more areas of the drive and surrounding the house where more tiles needed replacing. They had finished by lunchtime and until Tuesday or so no car will be allowed on the property. Eladio has made sure of that by placing garden furniture around the mended parts hahahaha. That meant that last night there were 6 cars outside on the street. It's a cul de sac so no worries. I can hardly believe there were 10 people sleeping here last night when I only saw a couple of them. 

The workers who I think were from Ecuador, were still at it when we got back. All I had to do, or so I thought, was to prepare our lunch; coq au vin. Ah but then I was immersed in negotiating a long term stay in December with past guests from Shanghai who want to come again next month. Wow, that means December will be busy too. I remarked to Eladio yesterday that this year has been exceptional with more guests than ever even in the low season. I put this down to people's frenzy to travel after the pandemic. I have no other explanation.

The rest of the day was quiet with not much more to report. Today promises to be so too but next week will be busy again. You can read all about it in next Sunday's post. Cheers till then, my friends,

Masha.