A memory packed holiday in Yorkshire, reunions, church and too much food.

Robin Hood's Bay as seen from the Cleveland Walk in the direction of Whitby. I love that place.
Hi again

It’s been quite some time since my last post but that’s because I’ve been on holiday to England and haven’t had time. Now I’m in Montrondo again for the annual family gathering which is actually coming to an end and finally I have a moment to write my blog and recount the experiences of our holiday in Yorkshire.

As I write my mother-in-law is repairing some old jeans of Eladio’s sitting next to me on the “poyo”. A “poyo” (pronouced the same as pollo = chicken in Spanish) in Montrondo is not a chicken, but a stone slab attached to the houses that people sit on like a bench. The men are cutting wood from the trees they felled yesterday, the women have gone to see the house Primo is building and the girls, Suzy, Laura, Alicia and Paula have come home for a mid afternoon snack. My father will be having his siesta in Murias where he stays at the b+b called El Holandés Errante and where they take great care of him.

It wasn’t just a normal holiday in England. It was the first time we were taking my 90 year old Father back to Yorkshire since he left to live with us in October 2005. I should add for clarification that just the three oldies went; Eladio, my Father and I.

We spent the first 5 nights in Brontë country, at the superb 5 star guest house called Ashmount House in Haworth and the last 3 on the North Yorkshire coast at the charming little fishing village, Robin Hood’s Bay, two very beautiful places that meant so much to my Father and I and brought back many memories from my childhood and our past. At the latter we stayed at Manning Tree Bed and Breakfast. It was not in the same league as Ashmount House, but lovely, simple and clean and with a much nicer landlady. Katy took great care of us there. Thank you very much, by the way Katy, for the raspberry jam you gave my Father, the one your Mother made.
Ashmount House guest house in Haworth which was the old surgery.
We had a very tight programme as there was so much to pack into the 8 days. The first day was spent visiting Haworth, the parish church and the Brontë parsonage museum, after which we went for a wonderful walk by the moors where Eladio picked bilberries for my Father.
Eladio picking billberries on the walk outside Haworth.
The walk by the moor in Haworth
Afterwards we drove to one of our favourite places in Yorkshire, Ilkley, where we had lunch at Betty’s, that quintessential English tearoom and walked up to Ilkley Moor for old times sake. This was where my Father used to bring my brother George and I many a weekend and when he used to call me “his little moors girl”. At the time I hated walking but now I love it although I still have an aversion to walking up hills. My Mother would always stay at home as she hated going for walks.
The Brontë Parsonage where the sisters and their family lived. Today it is a museum but just as it was in their day.
That same day we had a reunion dinner at Valya and George Konzeviche’s house in Leeds where we joined by Richard Davies and Misha. Valya had been my Mother’s colleague at Leeds University where they both taught Russian. Richard was also a colleague and is still there. Richard and Misha were both instrumental in the publishing of my Grandfather’s poetry whereby they fulfilled my Mother’s life time dream for which my Father and I are eternally grateful. We had a grand time and the Russian blood in me flourished that evening and even had me singing songs like “Lietat Utki”. The food, as befits the great cook Valya always was, was, of course Russian and the table heaved with delicacies we had not eaten for many years. The reunion was emotional to say the least and brought back memories of my visiting my Mother at Leeds University when I was a teenager and proud she had an office and where Valya would always greet me so lovingly.
Dinner at the Konzeviches
On Friday we went into the centre of Bradford, the home of my childhood and where my Father had lived from 1965 until 2005, a mere 40 years of his life. I always hated Bradford, although I loved the surrounding countryside and vowed I would never live there. I hate it and still do but many memories were stirred that morning as I went from the Halifax Building society to Marks and Spencers and into Boots and all the old shops. It was raining and felt at times as if life had stood still as I watched the inhabitants shopping that morning. The only difference perhaps is that now there are even more Asian immigrants than before. It was difficult to spot white people on Broadway.

Soon it was time to drive to Baildon to Charlestown cemetery to visit my Mother’s grave. My Father and I stood in the rain looking at her tombstone with the inscription which includes some lines from her beloved Father’s poetry. It was a very sad moment.

We soon cheered up as we drove on afterwards passed our old home on Rownwood Road and via Hollin’s Hill where my brother once had a bicycle accident and to Guisely for lunch at the famous fish and chip restaurant, Harry Ramsden’s. We were to be joined by Andy and Amanda who had come down from Surrey to join us for the weekend. Amanda is my childhood friend and Andy was part of our “gang” and also my Father’s former pupil at Bradford Grammar School. The weekend was going to be full of memories for them too as well as for Simon and Gill, Amanda’s brother and wife. Simon too was a past pupil of my Father’s and very much part of my childhood.
Harry Ramsden's world famous fish and chip shop. We always go back there.
Harry Ramsden’s had not changed and we enjoyed our lunch immensely. We all laughed at Andy’s “challenging” portion which he got through with no problems.
Andy's portion of fish and chips.
Our whole stay in Yorkshire was marked by eating and by reunions and Friday evening was going to be the same. Amanda and I were going to drive to Manchester for a school reunion and “the boys”, Eladio and my Father were to have dinner at Embers in Haworth with Andy, Simon and Gill.

Our school reunion dinner was very special. Last year, Amanda and I attended the St. Joseph’s College centenary reunion and that spurred me on to organise a special dinner for a small group of us during our time in Yorkshire. I got together the closest group, Brenda, Ellen, Helen King, Stephanie, Jane, Amanda and myself. The first four all live quite close to each other near Manchester and Jane came from Cardiff for the occasion. Amanda, of course, came from Surrey.
The school girl reunion, class of 1975 at SJC.From left to right: Amanda, Jane, Helen, Stephanie, Brenda, me and Ellen
The evening started off with drinks at Brenda’s and from there we went to Picollini’s in Hale which is apparently Manchester United footballer land. There we were to meet up with Stephanie and Helen, the only two of the group whom I hadn’t seen since we left school in 1975. We had all been part of the Kappa class, except Ellen, and were a close knit group and so all had many memories to share that night. None of us were the “good girls” at St. Joseph’s and it is quite remarkable that we have turned out to be “pillars of society” to quote Amanda. Amongst us that night there was a teacher, two lawyers, a doctor, a highly qualified nurse and two PR professionals. I think we have done Sister Wilfrid, our head teacher at the time, proud or I like to think so. Here are Helen King's husband, Mark's set of photos and here are mine.

The night was not long enough for such a reunion and I know we would all have liked to spend many more hours together. Hopefully we will repeat the occasion, maybe even in Madrid, next year at the same time. At least that is what I have proposed.

The drive back to Haworth was something of a nightmare and we got lost on different motorways despite our sat nav. I had problems when I got to the Ashmount House b+b getting in. I kept ringing Eladio who had agreed to open the door for me when I rang him but he didn’t hear his phone which turned out later to be on silence. To my chagrin, Ray, the owner, heard my timid shouts to Eladio and came down in his dressing gown to open the door. I felt like a naughty school girl just as I had been at St. Joseph’s College. Thus the evening ended fittingly.

On Saturday Simon, Jill, Andy and Amanda came for us and we all set off for a long awaited trip to the Dales. The Dales is the countryside in Yorkshire which is actually a national park and is possibly the prettiest part of England. With its picturesque villages, stone walls, sheep farms, endless green fields and rivers it is somewhere I could happily retire to. When we lived in Yorkshire we would visit them often. I hadn’t been there since the girls were very small and was looking forward to revisiting them as was my Father.

Our first stop, of course, was to eat. Simon and Gill who are locals and know the Dales well, took us to a great little pub called “The Angel” at Hetton near Grassington. It was no less than the 7th best pub for food in the UK so our expectations were high. We were not disappointed, the food was fabulous. The service too, specially the gorgeous looking waiter, Georgio, who came from Georgia! I’d had a couple too many ciders and I asked him if he was related to Stalin!
Lunch at The Angel in Hetton.
From Hetton we drove to Hebden where our long afternoon walk was to begin. We walked along the river Wharfe all the way to Grassington via Linton. I was worried it would be a bit much for my Father but he never haltered, marching with us with the aid of his stick and thoroughly enjoying this glorious walk and afternoon when the sun shone throughout the two and half hours. We passed the superb suspension bridge in Hebden built by William Bell until we reached the bridge at Linton Falls, both with beautiful views of the river. I think this was the day I took most photos in all our time in Yorkshire. The afternoon ended with a cup of tea and beer at one of Grassington’s charming pubs.
On the walk in the Dales
I stopped writing there and have resumed now at home in El Bosque. We got home yesterday and here I am by the pool with Norah at my feet (how I like her best), Suzy working next to me and Eladio cleaning the pool. I can hear the hoover being used by Zena, our Ukranian cleaning lady and it is music to my ears. It is so hot in Madrid, a big change from England I must say.

After Grassington we had dinner at Simon’s, which was a great effort on their part, after having spent the day with us in the Dales. They have a lovely house in Sowerby Bridge near Halifax with an amazing garden. We were joined by the kids: Becky and Abbie, Jake and his new love Tash (Natasha), Jane and Cordelia so it was dinner for 14!!!
The kids at Simon and Gill's
On Sunday morning we did something very unusual. We actually went to church, not to any church but the one in Haworth which is steeped in Brontë history. So why did we go you might ask? Really it was for old time’s sake, a sort of cultural traditional activity. I did it to remember my childhood but also for my Father. He is not religious and in fact told Eladio just as they entered that he is agnostic. But he is, after all, the son of an English vicar and I know he did it for his parents as he told me afterwards. The vicar was a middle aged woman, which was a bit of a surprise but a pleasant one. I wonder what my grandfather would have thought. Singing the hymns had my spine tingling as did taking Holy Communion. I suppose deep down I sort of believe but am not quite sure. Eladio was quite happy to leave at the end and I know he could not fully understand what we felt and why we went. I can fairly say it moved us as I knew it would.
Haworth Parish Church, always a bit gloomy but oh so meaningful to me.
After church Andy came to get us and we drove over the moors to Sowerby Bridge which was a spectacular route. And there waiting for us was a truly British Sunday lunch, roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and all the works which Simon had lovingly cooked for us all.
Simon cooking for us all.
As I said our whole trip was full of reunions and the reunions meant more food. That Sunday we were absolutely stuffed but had awaiting us another dinner, this time at the Wrights, our neighbours at Heaton Grove which is where we lived in Bradford. Dinner was to be between 6 and 7 pm (so early for us) but in between we had to visit the Rothschilds, other neighbours at Heaton Grove and we were dreading food there too. Luckily we were only served sherry. I hadn't seen the Rothschilds since I was a teenager when I used to play with their children, Silvia, Joyce and Walter. Both Silvia and Walter are now rabbis. I remember being invited to their sabbath meals on Friday nights which I loved. I also remembering Mr. Rothschild making wine with us out of peaches. That I loved even more.
The Rothschilds at Heaton Grove, as we laughingly admitted, the poorer side of that famous family.
It was funny returning to Heaton Grove, the place my Father lived for 40 years. I only lived there from the age of 7 to the age of 18 but it was my parent’s home and meant so much to me. Our house looked just the same, as did our neighbours, Susan (in her mid 70’s) and her mother, Marguerite, aged 100. Certainly our trip included socialising with old people. They were very pleased to see us and had prepared a splendid dinner, thankfully a light one, on their beautiful dining room table where everything was “just perfect” including the 19th century Spode chinaware we ate off.
Dinner at the Wrights.
That ended our time in West Yorkshire for, on Monday morning, we made our way to the North Yorkshire coast, to that pretty little seaside fishing village near Whitby called Robin Hood’s Bay.

I included them on our programme as both Whitby and Robin Hood’s Bay and indeed that whole area meant so much to my Father and I. I was also keen to show them to Eladio and knew he would not be disappointed.
The village of Robin Hood's Bay
My Father and I on the blustery pier at Whitby. That brought back a few memories for us.
We spent our time there exploring both places as well as the surrounding coastal villages of Sandsend, Runswick Bay and Staithes. But what we all liked most were the walks along the cliffs on the path that is called The Cleveland Way Walk. The views from both sides of the walk from Robin Hood’s Bay were spectacular and had we had more time we would probably have spent our whole days walking.
Eladio on the Cleveland way walk. You couldn't have a better backdrop for this photo.
Once again eating was an essential part of our programme in North Yorkshire and, upon the recommendation of my friend Kathryn Lindley, another ex SJC friend, we dined out at Estbek House in Sandsend. She told us we wouldn’t be disappointed and we weren’t. The food was delicious and the service very good too, although at times a little too "precious". The surroundings could not have been more beautiful.
Eladio outside Estbek House in Sandsend near Whitby
We had dinner the other nights at the Wayfarer in Robin Hood’s Bay upon recommendations from Katy at the Manning Tree B+B. It was actually around the corner from the B+B and to quote Katy, “at staggering home distance”. We did not stagger home but did have to fight off the wind and the rain and the cold coming home. Unfortunately the last two days in the area brought awful British summer weather with them.
Manning Tree House b+b in Robin Hood's Bay
The worst part of our trip, and the only bad part, apart from not being able to get into Ashmount House, was the drive from Robin Hood’s Bay to Manchester Airport. The weather was appalling, so much so, we later heard Heathrow had been closed for 2 hours due to storms. However we made it to Manchester in time to go through what I later called an obstacle race to catch our 2 planes, one in Manchester and one in London as unfortunately there are no direct flights. My Father was a hero on both trips, following us up and down escalators and through security and customs and walking endless corridors and refusing wheel chair assistance. I looked around and am fairly sure he was the oldest passenger to be seen. I could have cursed myself later when I realised we could have flown to Liverpool. Oh well, next time.

We arrived back to boiling Madrid to find our friends Andy and Amanda and their daughters Jane and Cordelia who have come to Spain to spend a month in Salamanca learning Spanish. It was late and there was no food at home, so it was yet another excuse to go out to dinner. We went to La Vinoteca in Boadilla and were joined by Olivia whom I hadn’t seen for a quite some time. Suffice it to say it was a fantastic night out.

As always it was great to be back but Yorkshire has left its mark on us all, so much so I think we will be returning next year to rent a cottage in the wonderful Yorkshire Dales.

That’s it for the moment, until my post on the annual family gathering in Montrondo which is where we went the day after we returned from England.

Cheers till then
Masha
PS the full set of photos, well the best selection of them, is on Facebook.

Playing at houses in Montrondo, Russian folk music, the oldest man in the world dies and how I remember the first landing on the moon.

Ludmila Zikina celebrating her 80th birthday just a few days ago on 10th July and being presented flowers by Svetlana Medvedeva, the Russian premiere's wife. Her death came as a shock to this music loving nation.
Hi again

As you will have read from my last entry, we spent some time again in Montrondo last week. I took my pc and with a slow connection was able to work from the kitchen in the old house whilst Eladio and his sister Pili and husband Andrés painted the staircase and ceiling and doors all in desperate need of a new coat of paint and thorough spring cleaning. We also went to receive some more furniture from Ikea, basically the two chests of drawers for our room and the room the girls sleep in. The rooms are looking great and now that our accommodation is so appealing we know we will be going back more often than before.
Eladio painting in Montrondo.
Pili and Andrés, the quarrelsome but loveable couple pausing from painting for this photo.
Montrondo was very quiet and only woke up while we were there when Ceferino and Livia celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. They arrived at the church in an open top car decorated with flowers, something probably never seen in sleepy Montrondo. Afterwards they invited the whole village (some 50 people, half being there only for the summer) to drinks and food at their home which was also decorated for the occasion. Maybe if Eladio and I make it to our 50th we might consider doing the same.
Ceferino and Livia's 50th wedding celebrations last week in Montrondo.
I was chief cook as I’m no great painter and also because I had to be connected most of the time arranging for an important press release to be sent out and continue preparations for a big event I am planning for the beginning of September in Santander. In Montrondo we all tend to have huge appetites perhaps because of the mountain air and I mostly served them appetising cooked dishes typical of the area such as lentils with chorizo or “cocido” with chick peas. There are no shops in Montrondo or in any of the surrounding villages so once we had run out of supplies I had to shop at the van that comes twice a week and felt like a real villager.
Shopping in Montrondo is unique.
Lettuces, potatoes, eggs and bread are easily acquired though and I would walk down to Primo, my brother-in-law's place every day to pick a fresh lettuce from his vegetable patch for our salad. It tasted so good. I think we haven't left him very many and I hope he doesn't mind. I did see some new ones sprouting though.
Genaro, Primo's neighbour's vegetable patch in Montrondo.
Sometimes it felt like playing at houses and actually we all enjoyed our stay much more than when we are all there and the group grows to nearly 30 people and cooking becomes a nightmare Toño and Dolores were with us at the beginning and then Pili and Andrés took their place.
Eladio and Toño enjoying being together in Montrondo, outside Toño's newly built house.
We only went out once and that was to dinner in Senra with Pili and Andrés. There is not much choice so we went to practically the only restaurant within 50km, to Cumbres de Senra in the nearby village of the same name. You have to book for them to open the kitchen and we were the only diners! In the evenings we would work off all the delicious food with a brisk walk to Murias and back under a wonderful starlit sky. Throughout our stay we were accompanied too by Eladio’s mother who, is, of course, at her happiest in her beloved Montrondo.
I took the opportunity to take lots of photographs of the village with my new Canon Ixus 970 camera which is proving to be a treasure. Here you can see the whole collection.

Suzy stayed at home, studying and cooking for my Father who for once preferred not to come to Montrondo. Oli had moved to her new flat and when we came back we missed her again as she had gone off to the Music Festival in Benicassim with friends from work. We ourselves will be going away again next week on Wednesday for our much awaited trip down memory lane, with my Father to Yorkshire. Hopefully we will see her on Tuesday night at least.

Of note since I last wrote it was Bastille Day on 14th July so I hope the French enjoyed their “fête nationale francaise”. Of much more interest to me this week was the passing away of Ludmila Zikina, considered the people’s artist of the USSR as the most popular and loved singer of Russian folk songs in the last century. She was 80 and died of a heart attack and I know that the Russian people will miss her dearly. Amazingly she sang in public only recently and it was at the Eurovision Song contest in Moscow in the spring. Thankfully her songs will live on forever.
The "young" Zikina probably when she was at the height of her popularity. I think you could safely call her "the voice of Russia".
I didn’t remember her name until my father showed me her obituary in El Mundo. That got me interested and I was soon surfing the web for her songs, most of which have a place in my heart from my singing days and family music heritage which was brought to me by my Mother and dear Aunty Masha. I used to sing and very well, had a superb soprano voice which I ruined by smoking. But when I was in my teens I would sing for my Aunt’s choir and on stage solo at the Norwich Russian courses. So when I listed to Zikina sing Течет река Волга (the Volga flows as my father translated for me yesterday), those days come back to me. I for one have ordered some lovely Russian folk music from Amazon.com which will help me remember even more vividly my singing days and more importantly wake up the Russian blood in me.

Not long after Ludmila Zikina died in the country which represents half of my origin, in the UK, where the other half comes from, the world’s oldest man died at the age of 113. He wasn’t just any man, he was the First World War veteran Henry Allingham who became the world's oldest man in June 2009 following the death of the previous holder of the title in Japan, according to the Guinness World Records. Henry Allingham, who was one of only two surviving First World War veterans in the UK and the last surviving founder member of the RAF, had celebrated his 113th birthday on June 6.
Henry Allingham in 1916. Fancy having lived 113 years. I bet he never thought he would be famous when he posed for this picutre.
In his own words, he owed his longevity to: "cigarettes, whisky and women". This is him on his birthday in 2006. He may well have still been smoking and drinking but not much else judging by these photos.

Neither Henry Allingham nor Ludmila Zikina will live to witness the 40th anniversary of the first moon landing tomorrow but it will have marked their lives as it did mine. It happened on 20th July 1969 when I was 12. I remember my Mother staying up all night to watch it on the television. I was quite interested but too young to stay up. I certainly remember the moon walk by Armstrong and his famous words which I will never forget: “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”. I find it difficult to fathom that it might have been a hoax as some people aledge and prefer to think it wasn’t. It’s funny how I remember the first moon landing but none of the subsequent ones. What I do remember on that day were my preparations for the Girl Guide camp I was going to. I think it was to Baildon Moor.
The first moon landing on 20th July 1969. No one who witnessed that moment will ever forget it.
The world will be celebrating the anniversary tomorrow. One family will not and that is the Moroccan family who lost their wife and daughter Dalila who died recently in Madrid due to swine flu. She was pregnant and as she died, her tiny son Ryan lived which was the family’s saving grace. And then last week, little Ryan died too after an inexperienced 22 year old Spanish nurse fed him through the wrong tube. The family is devastated and most of Spain is in shock with the news.
Baby Ryan being buried by his bereaved family in Mqid, their native town in Morocco this week.
Swine flu has not gone away and I read today that it is most virulent with pregnant women and small babies, as was the case of Dalila. It's supposedly because their immune system is down so that their bodies don't reject the baby growing and then, of course, the babies catch it from their mothers. I'm sure doctors don't describe it that way but that is how I understand it.

I don’t want to end on a sad note, so I thought I ought to tell you that I made “salmorejo” yesterday. And what is that you non Spaniards may ask? Salmorejo is like thick gazpacho and comes from the Córdoba region. This is what mine looked like yesterday.
My salmorejo was delicious. It was the first time I made it but it won't be the last.
And here is the recipe: 1.5kg very ripe (pealed) tomatoes, 200gr of old bread soaked in water, a piece of garlic (optional) and loads of oil (some recipes say 250ml). Of course you must add salt and vinegar and the final taste depends often on the amount of these two ingredients. You just have to liquidise all the ingredients so the mixture is completely smooth and leave it to cool in the fridge. When you serve it, it is typical to add diced boiled egg and Spanish ham. This is a great summer starter, similar to gazpacho of course, but thicker.

And on that tasty note, I leave you until next week when I will be in my home country. More about that in my next entries.

Cheers
Masha

Home and off again, a fall, reading and languages, Winston Churchill, a farewell dinner, strawberries without cream, Tour de France and other things

Winston Churchill, England's most famous Prime Minister, puffing a cigar on his Chartwell estate some time in the 40's. Apart from a brillian politician, soldier, writer and journalist he was also an amazing character.
Hi again

I’ve been a bit lazy with my blog recently. I like to think it’s because I have been very busy for the last week or so. That is so, but also keeping up a blog weekly is actually quite a task. You can’t just sit down and begin to write. You have to write the list of things to mention, get the photos together and of course find the links. Then you have to feel in the mood or be inspired which is perhaps the most difficult part.

I don’t know if I’m inspired right now but I do have the perfect conditions to write a new entry. I am sitting in the quadrangle in Montrondo on an old wooden chair with my pc. The sun is shining on the other side and I can hear Eladio and his Mother discussing how to put up the Ikea curtains we brought for our room on yet another trip here to improve our living conditions. We are alone, just the three of us and have Montrondo all to ourselves which is perhaps how I like it best.

So where shall I start? The title says “home and off again” and actually refers to Olivia’s return from Guatemala and her moving into the new flat. Oli returned last Sunday after her two week adventure in Latin America where she went to work with an NGO that helps underprivileged children. She had a grand time and the experience must have been very enriching.
Oli with Laura her friend outside Lucrecia's house where they stayed in Antigua in Guatemala.
No sooner had she arrived we went to visit her new flat which she actually moved into on Tuesday. It’s a little place in the centre of Madrid near Atocha which she will be sharing with her colleague Miriam whom we have yet to meet. It’s small but in a perfect condition. I hope she will be happy there. Luckily, as she’s not moving far, we will not miss her too much as I know she will be visiting and staying with us often. For her first night she was accompanied by Suzy who I know will miss her dearly. They might fight like cat and dog, but they are very close.

“Home and off again” also refers to Suzy coming back from her week’s holiday in Santa Pola with her friend Juli and cousins Laura and Alicia. They returned on Saturday brown and relaxed but we didn’t see much of them as they went off almost immediately to a barbecue at Copi’s place in Bonanza. Laura and Alicia went “off again” too on Sunday, back to their native León just before Olivia arrived.
Alicia on the left and Laura on the right of the photo on Sunday just before they left.
Whilst they were all away, Eladio’s mother, Ernestina, came to stay and for a few days it was just the “oldies” at home and it felt a bit like a senior citizens’ residence!

Ernestina is not self sufficient like my Father and unlike him doesn’t know how to fill her days and seems to live from meal to meal. She is in good health but doesn’t read or walk. She doesn’t like to help in the kitchen either. She is not much interested in the television and is very hard of hearing. She is very skilled, however, at sewing and knitting so we gave her the task of making woollen socks to keep her occupied and she happily knitted wool in the unbearable heat of July.
Ernestina sewing and Eladio keeping her company with his book.
Ernestina is at her happiest in Montrondo which is where she was born and brought up her own family. So when we told her we were coming here for a few days, her eyes lit up and she came to life immediately. And here she is, with us now, pottering around, helping Eladio with the curtains, watering the plants and feeling thoroughly at home.
Eladio's Mother here in Montrondo today where she is at her happiest. She is wearing the classic blue dressing gown which is how I'm sure I'll remember her always.
My father stayed behind this time, perhaps because he prefers his peace in a place he is familiar with and where he doesn’t have to depend on anyone. He gave us a fright not so long ago when he tripped over Norah or a cap Norah was playing with in the kitchen. He fell flat on his face and my heart sunk as we helped him up. My father for someone aged 90 is in very good health and my only fear for him is a fall. His own Father fell in his early 70’s which caused a massive stroke. He died within the week. That same fear for my Father has always been with me. Miraculously though he came away nearly completely unscathed apart from a superficial bruise on his head. I always thought he was more fragile but his bones must be made of rock to have resisted a fall like that.

My Father is a great reader. Eladio’s mother always marvels at him reading the paper, doing the Daily Telegraph crossword or reading a book in German, Russian or whatever language takes his fancy. I am a bit of a reader too when I have the time and recently Eladio seems to be joining me. I have just read Clara’s War, the miraculous story of a Jewish girl in Nazi occupied Poland. It is, of course, my favourite genre. I also love biographies so this book was doubly interesting. Eladio is reading it too now in English, is fascinated by the story but also pleased that he is able to understand the English. It is the first book he has ever read in English and I imagine it will not be the last. In order to learn a language, it is fundamental that you read too in that language. It was my Mother’s trick and she knew 6 languages!

Right now I am finishing the biography of Phyllis Moir who was one of Winston Churchill’s personal secretaries but in America. I have also read the one by Elizabeth Nell who was his secretary in war time London. Both are a fascinating read. Churchill is an amazing character as we all know but in these books comes to life. I am more interested in him as a person than as a prime minister or war strategist. He must have had one of the most brilliant minds of his times. I learned that he was three things in life, a soldier, a journalist and a politician and that he never stopped being all three. He was also a great writer which is where he made his money. He might have been an aristocrat but the family was relatively poor. He wrote his own father’s biography and asked his son, Randolph, to write his but once he was dead. Randolph did begin to write it but unfortunately died early and never finished it. Phyllis Moir wrote her book in 1941 so in it she refers to Churchill in the present which is quite funny to read. Fascinating man, fascinating times.

You may be interested to know that this book which I got via www.amazon.co.uk, was actually out of print but was sent to me via Kessinger Publishing’s Rare prints who reprint anything for anybody, even a single copy. Churchill would have been impressed I’m sure.

Meanwhile it was Independence Day on 4th July in America. I didn’t get to go, of course, but did get my taste of America this week, in that I acquired my 3rd pair of white leather sneaker Keds which you can only buy in the States. I am a “sucker” for this footwear and have worn all my Keds to the ground, especially in the Summer. I bought my first pair in Phoenix, Arizona, on a press trip with Motorola. The second pair came from Macy’s in Los Angeles on another press trip this time with Nokia. These, however, come from New York, from Broadway to judge by the packaging and I got them thanks to my friend Javier and his wife Ana who are living there now. I actually went to pick them up at their house in Las Rozas and got to meet their 4 nearly grown up kids. We will be seeing more of this family in August. Thanks guys. As I write, I am wearing them too and they feel comfy on my feet.
My keds, as worn today whilst writing this post in Montrondo.
I didn’t wear them, though on Tuesday when I went to the Spanish Senate, or Upper House, for the annual report from the Government on the state of the telecommunications market in Spain. Fortunately the news for Yoigo was good, but then we knew it would be. Here the crème de la crème of the sector meets every year and it is a grand occasion for networking. The press are there too and I was privileged enough to be invited to the press conference afterwards.
The Spanish Senate, a beautiful building.
On Tuesday though, one journalist was missing, Antonio P who was unfortunate enough to be included in the black list of the ABC newspaper recent layoffs. I have known Antonio for many years. He was even instrumental in my joining Yoigo so when I heard he was leaving, I quickly took part in the organisation of his farewell party. It took place on Wednesday at Naia, a restaurant owned by Pedro, a colleague, from work, which is in the heart of old Madrid in Plaza de la Paja, number 3 if you are tempted to go and taste their amazing food which we all enjoyed on Wednesday. Their foie and croquettes are superb as is the brownie dessert as well as many other delicacies on their very reasonably priced menu. There were 29 of us there on Wednesday to bid Antonio farewell, but not goodbye. We were a crowd made up of the communications managers from all the operators as well as the journalists from Spain’s main media who write about the operators. But that night, as I said in my improvised speech when we gave Antonio a lovely Cross pen and Moleskine pad that later everyone wrote on (good thinking Ana!), we were only competing for Antonio’s heart. He will have a place in mine always. Good luck Antonio and don’t disappear.

I cannot finnish this entry without mentioning two sports close to my heart and that are part of our lives in June and July always, tennis and Wimbledon and cycling and the Tour de France.

The Women’s final was no surprise and was played by the William’s sisters who have dominated women’s tennis for quite some time now. Serena, the younger of the two, beat Venus 7-6, 6-2, and garnered her 3rd Wimbledon whilst Venus has won 5. That sounds fair to me. Wimbledon is all about fair play but it also about strawberries and cream, of course.
Serena Williams won this year's Wimbledon, her 3rd, as ever against her own sister, Venus who has already garnered 5. I wouldn't like to be their parents watching them.
I read this year that Wimbledon without Nadal, the world’s number one until this week, and winner of last year’s edition, is like strawberries without cream. The cream, I’m afraid, went to Federer. Federer became tennis's greatest men's champion, watched by a legion of champions, as he beat Andy Roddick 5-7 7-6 (8-6) 7-6 (7-5) 3-6 16-14 in four hours and 16 minutes to claim his sixth Wimbledon crown. It was also a record 15th Grand Slam title for the Swiss master, overhauling the total of Pete Sampras who was in the Royal Box along with fellow legends Bjorn Borg and Rod Laver, as reported by the official website.
Federer winning Wimbledon. He is dubbed as the history man of tennis. I bet he was glad Nadal wasn't there this year.
Very soon afterwards, the start of the Tour de France last weekend in Monaco, saw the comeback of Lance Armstrong, who has returned to the sport 3 years after resigning as the one and only 7 times champion of this legendary competition. He is now 37 and there are mixed opinions as to whether he will win it or not. So far, he is second in the general classification, thanks to his superb performance in the prologue and team time trial which his team, Astana won. It is in these stages that seconds are fought for but it is in the mountains where they fight for minutes. Today, in the French and Spanish Pyrenees, the first mountain stage takes place. We will know just how fit and able Armstrong is today as he competes against the Spanish winners of the last three editions, Pereiro, Contador and Sastre. Lance’s comeback and this competition certainly make for a promising Tour de France this year. I for one will be following it avidly.
The Austrian rider, Cancellara, who won the prologue, pipping Armstong to the post on the first day. His won was no surprise as he is, after all the olympic time trial champion. He won't win the Tour de France, though, that's for sure.
And that, folks,is it for this week, or last 10 days.

Cheers from Montrondo.

Masha

Summer Party in La Rioja, Michael Jackson died, Oli in Guatemala, Suzy away and the end of an era.

Oli enjoying working with underprivileged kids in Guatemala.
Hi again

What a week, what with my Summer Party for over 170 people and then Michael Jackson died.

I’m really late with my blog this week and it’s because I have been overloaded with work for the Yoigo employee and partner summer party. I took 177 people on a two day activity packed trip to La Rioja last Thursday and Friday. It seems an easy thing to say but actually it meant over 3 months of intense preparations. The sensations the work and event caused can be summarised in: total exhaustion, a sense of great fulfilment and now a sort of emptiness. That always happens after a big event and somehow I never get used to it.

For you to get an idea, this was the programme.

It included the company presentation and lunch at the Parador in Santo Domingo de la Calzada and an auto gymkhana (21 teams in Yoigo cars with 8 people each which all went to different neighbouring villages and had to compete against each other doing things like building a 4 metre Yoigo logo in the main square and getting the local mayor to appear in the picture!). It also included a fantastic dinner at the famous Márques de Riscal winery in El Ciego where we had cocktails in the lobby of the hotel designed by Frank O’Gehry, the great Canadian architect who also designed the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao.
Pretty good photo of the whole group at Márques de Riscal. Rafa, the photographer had to get on a ladder to take it. I love the result. Can you find me?
To top it all, the “Summer party” ended with visits to the centenary wineries in Haro, Cune and Bodegas Bilbainas.

And here is the full set of photos which you can see on Flickr.

Suzy came with me and helped the girls at the agency which made everything much easier for me.
Suzy with Cristina, Gloria, Bea, Nuria and Marina during the party. Her red hair was and is spectacular
She also drove as we went the night before and we managed to have some good moments together.
Me sticking my head through a pilgrim photo call in Santo Domingo de la Calzada. The town is on one of the Jacobean Way routes (el camino de Santiago) and is full of pilgrims.
We heard about Michael Jackson’s strange death just after the dinner at Márques de Riscal, apparently caused by a heart attack as he was rehearsing for 100 concerts soon to take place in London. Well that was probably a bit much for someone aged 50, stuffed with barbiturates or whatever and with his eccentric background. I’m afraid to say he never was my favourite character or singer as a matter of fact. Apparently the album Thriller (I had to look that up as I do not know the name of one single song!) by him is still the best selling album in the world but I must be one of the few people on this planet who is not a fan.
The face of a young Michael Jackson as he appeared in the era of the Jackson 5 and their discovery at the famous Apollo Theatre in Harlem How plastic surgery changed the face of Michael Jackson
Meanwhile Oli continues in Guatemala and is now well into her second week. The experience from what she writes is very positive. She commented that the children she works with have NOTHING. She says they are dirty, poor and dressed in rags and yet have beautiful smiles for her. The photo illustrating this blog above proves it, as does this charming one of her with a little girl.

Suzy is away too. After La Rioja she went to Badajoz for the weekend with her school friends and then yesterday she galavanted off to Santa Pola with her cousins Laura and Alicia (my god daughter) and a friend, Juli to enjoy the beach for a few days. I do hope she will come back soon and start revising for the many exams she has to sit in September!

So this week there are just the two of us and my Father plus our lovely pets, Norah the beagle and Joe and Phoebe our cats. The place seems very lonely without the girls. I suppose we should start getting used to it as soon it will be permanent. Oli will be the first to go as she will be moving out as soon as she returns from Guatemala. I imagine it will be just a question of time until Suzy goes. Oh dear, this is certainly the end of an era in our house and family. I wonder what the next era will bring. I hope that just as much happiness as before.

And that’s it for this week folks.

All the best till next time
Masha