University master class, the family tree grows, discoveries of more ancestors, the mystery of Owen Noel Lloyd, to Santa Pola for a break and other stories.

Sunday 24th February, 2019

During the masterclass on Monday

Hello again everyone. How has your week been?

We have had very fair weather here. I have been, as was to be expected very busy, what with preparations for the publishing of my book and work helping Andy  D. continue with the Lloyd Lieven family tree. It is wonderful to see it grow.

Last Sunday saw me digging out very old photos to contribute to the tree and from both sides of the family. I came across this one dated of my father's maternal grandparents, Charles Edward Scull and his wife Bessie (Elizabeth) Scull née Walters. Don't they look fine in their Victorian clothes? It was taken in Shrewsbury in about 1905.

My father's maternal grandparents in 1905

On my mother's side I came across her maternal grandmother, Olga Ribeaupierre - an ancient Russian noble family. She is sitting with her cousin, the mother of Felix Yusupov who was Princess Zinaida Yusupov née Trubetskoi. Gosh so we are related to the Trubetskoys. The Tubetskoys are in War and Peace, except that Tolstoy renamed them Drubtestkoy. Did I ever tell you that Tolstoy was a friend of my mother's family and that my maternal grandmother used to play tennis with him? That's something to put in my next book hahaha.

My mother's maternal grandmother Olga Ribeaupierre (dark hair)  with the mother of Felix Yusupov, Princess Zinaida Yusupov (blonde hair They were cousins. 

Meanwhile, my new found friend, Joanna, continued her stay in Anglesey visiting her sister who lives in the Old Rectory where my paternal grandfather, John Collins Lloyd, no doubt would often have gone. Joanna even found out he had lived at the White Lodge as a curate soon after taking Holy Orders. His parish was in Llanfairpwl,  the town with the second longest name in the world and which is too difficult for me to spell hahaha. This is the lodge, which, by the way, is on sale too, like his old house on Alderley Terrace. But being a Grade II listed building it is going for more, at the price of over 400.000 pounds. What a lovely building it is.

The White Lodge in Anglesey where my grandfather first lived when he became curate after taking Holy Orders. 

Seeing the photos Joanna has been sending, I am further convinced I must visit Anglesey soon.

That morning, after sending off all these photos to Andy, I had to completely change what was going on in my head and get on with another task very far away from old family photos, biographies, etc.

I don't know why but a couple of weeks ago, at the Adamo press conference, I agreed to give a talk to a class of University students that one of my journalist friends, Emilia, teaches. In the heat of the moment, I said "Oh yes, no problem·. The class to students of media studies is about New Technologies and the Information Society and I was to tell them about my experience of it. I was so busy I only got down to it on Sunday morning. It took me about 3 hours. Thankfully Zena was making the lunch so I was free to work. Thankfully again, I finished it just before lunch and in the afternoon was able to relax, although I kept thinking of things to change which would have me reprint the document at least 4 times hahah. When I get new ideas and I'm away from my desk, I either record myself or add notes on my mobile. That makes for interruptions on our walk hahaha.

Our walk was glorious, so sunny and even warm.  There were plenty of other people with their dogs, walking or on their bikes and it was because of the good weather. When it's cold, you never see them. We, however, like mad dogs and Englishman, are generally out in any sort of weather.

Once home, Oli had arrived. She would be having dinner with us and spending the night. I really hadn't seen her for about 3 weeks as she has been so busy with her job. We spent lovely mummy and daughter time, with her trying on the new clothes I had bought at QRabit. She loved them.

Later the 3 of us watched the weekly programme, Salvados, conducted by Jordi Evole which we hardly ever miss. This time he interviewed a man called Alfonso Guerra. He was Felipe Gonzalez' second in command during the early years of the socialist government in Spain. He is very outspoken but is a great debater and had me laughing and agreeing with him on many things. One thing he said, really struck me as so true. He spoke about how political correctness hardly let anyone speak clearly or say things how they really are. He said political correctness undermines democracy. How right he is and how silly we all are. We do anything not to hurt anyone's feelings, but end up being so bland, we begin to act like in the times of communism or fascism. He is so right. I hate political correctness. What about you?

Monday came and it was a big day for me. I was to add another experience to my bucket list of experiences in life. I was to give a master class, oh really just a lecture, but master class sounds grander, at the University Antonio de Nebrija.    Emilia wanted me to talk about my role and experience as Communications Director of two mobile phone manufacturers, Motorola and Nokia and the mobile operator, Yoigo and in a way to show how I had personally witnessed the development of the information society. I also had to talk about crisis communication, something I am very familiar with. I prepared well for the class, taking Oli's advice, to use my script just as a guide, highlighting the main topics and to speak spontaneously rather than read the talk. She was right, she is a journalist and knows. I know too but it would have been far easier to read it. I took her advice though. I had to be there by 11.25 so had plenty of time to get ready, prepare myself mentally and arrive well on time. Finally my grand moment came and I was ushered into a beautiful old room full of books with 4 or 5 rows of students. Their class was nothing like my lectures at Nottingham University in the late 70's. Each student had a huge Apple computer screen and Emilia's black board was of course electronic. How times have changed.

The Antonio de Nebrija University classroom where I gave my lecture on Monday. I was amazed to see how technology has finally entered the classroom in educational institutions today. Lucky students. 

I think I sort of overawed my very young audience. They were only 18 and were first year students. However, they asked lots of questions, laughed a bit and even applauded me at the end. 

The time passed rapidly and at about 13h it was over. Then Emilia introduced me to a young student, Raquel, from the final year. She is doing a thesis on crisis communication and social media and wants my help. She will be in touch soon to interview me. It is a nice  feeling to pass on my knowledge to the younger generation.

I had a long walk back to the metro as I  had on the way walking from Plaza de España Metro. Once at the metro station where I had left my car, I had another long walk. There were no spaces in the morning so I had to park 1.5k away. Thus I did over 4 km. that morning and would skip on our walk that afternoon.

I came home happy but tired. My work wasn't over. It was lunchtime but I had to do a video of myself to send to some professional friends, Tony and Theresa, for their goodbye party from Ketchum. I did the video with Pippa in my arms, of course.

Finally I could sit down with Eladio and my father and have lunch. After our meal I stayed at the table talking to my father about his upcoming 100th birthday. He is counting the days. I continued questioning him on certain relatives. He then told me that when he lies in bed he always thinks about the past. I told him I was thinking and living his past what with the book and family tree and that I hadn't listened to him when I was younger. Very sweetly he replied "well why would you?" I told him it was a great feat to reach 100 and added there is only a very small percentage of people who reach that age. He then said that he only wished he could help us a bit at home. That touched my heart and I told him I love him. That may sound normal to you but it isn't for me. My father does not express his feelings, although underneath he has them of course. I told him he had the right at his age to be looked after, respected and loved and not to worry. Bless him. It's amazing how I am getting to know him so well, so late in life.

In the afternoon, Andy D. continued his sleuth work of my grandfather's and other ancestors' past. He told me that my paternal grandfather's second church after ordination was in Llandegfan, also in Anglesey, at the church of St. Tegfans. I promptly told my newly found friend, Joanna who was still in Anglesey staying with her sister. And you know what? She drove there immediately and was visiting his church about 10 minutes later as Llandegfan is 3 miles from her sister's house. She even sent me photos of his lovely church.

St. Tegfan's church in Llandegefan, my grandfather's second posting as a curate after ordination.

I then went looking for my grandfather's ordination papers and my father still had them, together with documents about his appointment at many of his following parishes. They are beautifully kept old parchment documents. Here are his ordination certificates first as a deacon and then as a priest.

My grandfather ordained  as a deacon at St. Asaph Cathedral, Wales, 18.12.1910.

My grandfather ordained as a priest 21st December 1911

These are precious papers and I'm so glad my father kept them. He threw away nearly everything when he left Bradford in 2005, after 40 years living at 6 Heaton Grove. Thankfully he kept all these documents and photos.

All of this was immediately updated to the ever growing family tree. My grandfather's profile now looks like this:

The first page of 5 of my paternal grandfather, John Collins Lloyd's profile on the family tree

Andy even found the probate he left and the probates many of his ancestors left too. Amazing work.

So engrossed in conversation with Andy in France and Joanna in Wales,  time flew. Soon it was time for dinner and Oli would be joining us. Boy was I hungry.

Later that night, to take my mind off books, biographies, university lectures, etc, Eladio and I watched a very exciting film, Jack Ryan, Shadow Recruit on Amazon Prime. It's a story about the Russians wanting to create a second great depression in the US, including a terrorist attack at the heart of the financial world, Wall Street. I must say it had me biting my nails.

Tuesday came and I could finally relax a bit. Or so I thought. Working on the family tree with Andy has become rather addictive and I have felt what it must be like to be an enthusiastic researcher of family history. That day there were several mysteries to be resolved. First was the maiden name of my father's maternal grandmother, Bessy Scull. In an old album there is a photo of her with her husband. On the back of the photo, in my father's perfect handwriting of about 15 years ago it says "Elizabeth (Bessy) Williams?) Andy had come up with her surname being Walters, not Williams. In the end we decided he must be right as he found their marriage details in some old census. 

There was also the mystery of a possible fifth sibling of my grandfather, John Collins Lloyd. On Ancestry.com there is another Lloyd family tree with a lot of my father's relatives. It includes his father and has 5 siblings on it, not 4. The 5th sibling is Own Noel Lloyd born 1900 and who died in 1916 according to her records which later Andy checked. This is a mystery to me. I wondered if the censuses could be wrong or if Owen was maybe born out of wedlock.

I a sked my father if his father had ever told him he had a fifth sibling, Owen, who had died in 1916. He had no recall of the fact. It seems strange that the death of a 16 year old brother would never be mentioned in the family. Also reading through my grandparents’ letters which I still have and which are dated 1916-1917, around the time Owen would have died, there is no mention either. This is a mystery still to be resolved.  Possibly the only way to find out for sure is to order his birth certificate. I think I may do that. 

I spent most of the day on the screen of my phone exchanging messages with Andy which  tired me out. It is addictive as every day we find something new. We are now looking for  the descendants of my father's paternal uncles, whose children and grandchildren must be alive. The search continues. 

This is fascinating stuff for me. Maybe it isn't for you. My new found friend, Joanna, the teacher from Lancashire, has suggested that once we find everyone, I could do a tour of their graves. Well, I'm not into graves, but I would like to see where they lived. I think my husband thinks I'm a bit crazy. He doesn't see the interest and says all the people we are looking for are very distant relatives. However they do interest me and a lot. But I do understand him, as if he were doing the same for his family, no doubt I would not want to do a grand tour of his relatives' graves haha. I wonder what you readers think of this family history research.

I did stop for a break in the morning as the cupboards were bare and we had to do the shopping. That day I wore my new tartan coat which Eladio calls a dressing gown, hahaha, the one I bought for my birthday. I needed an occasion to wear it and that was going out shopping on Tuesday. Here I am in it. Lovely and fashionable isn't it? Well I do love tartan.

Wearing my new tartan coat on Tuesday

I was very tired with all the research and answering all the Whatsapp messages, exhausted in fact. Luckily I was able to sleep a short siesta and was then further revived by our walk with the dogs.

Just as were were arriving home, Oli was on TV reporting on a sort of ghost city, Talavera, in the province of Toledo. As we were still in the street when she was on, we watched her on my mobile phone. It's amazing today what we can do with our phones. She wouldn't be home until very late, well past our dinner time.

I relaxed again and took a mental break from the addictive family tree by starting to watch a new series on Netflix that night with Eladio. Called "Vivir sin permiso" (livng without permission) it's about a family clan in the drug business in Galicia. It is highly addicted too. It was great to find a new series we like and will enjoy together.

Wednesday came. The search continued for the discovery and details of ancestors on both sides of my family for the family tree, information I would also add to my father's biography. That morning we hit bingo on my mother's side. We found out that her father Andrei Prince Lieven's grandfather, Prince Andrei Alexandrovich Lieven (1839-1897 born Simferopol, died St. Petersburg) was Minister of State Properties under Tsar Nicholas II. That was one more gap filled and one more  photo for the tree.

Prince Andrei Alexandrovich Lieven my grandfather's grandfather.

Meanwhile on the Lloyd side of the tree, hunting through old letters I came upon one from an "Aunty Peggy" in Worthing. I prompted my father as to who she was - I had heard her name all my life - It turns out she fills another blank and was the wife of my father's brother Tom, an officer in the Merchant Navy. According to my father, they retired to Worthing so that he could see his beloved ships pass by. I loved that bit of information. I asked my father what rank Uncle Tom had. He replied, "well he wasn't Captain, I think he was First Officer", another little bit of information to complete my biography and the tree. As to Aunty Peggy, with that name only and no surname, she would be impossible to find although I knew from another letter she had died too in Worthing in 1984. 

In the afternoon Andrew D, my genealogist and maker of the family tree, came up trumps with valuable information on my father's side of the family. He found an article about my grandfather, John Collins Lloyd's grandfather, John Collins, (1827-1904) written in a publication called "Holyhead stories of a port" and written by Barry Hillier. He was my father's great grandfather, so we are going really back into history. This is the link.  Here there was a  mine of information on this ancestor.

 He was with the 82nd Regiment of Foot and fought in the Crimea and also took part in the Great Indian Mutiny. He returned to Holyhead with three medals, the Crimean Medal, the Turkish Medal and the Indian Mutiny Medal. Thus his daughter, Marian Margaret Collins, my grandfather's mother was born in Delhi.  Additionally he was an eye witness of the Charge of the Light Brigade. Wow, this is history and I just loved the story of John Collins.

His Crimean medal with clasp for the Siege at Sebastopol

His story took me right back to my History lessons with Miss Scorer at St. Joseph's College. I well remember our lessons on the Crimean War. History always was my favourite subject.

I wrote to the author who in the article also mentions the mysterious boy Noel or Owen Noel and told him of our connection to John Collins. He wrote back immediately and sent us all the sources of his article which he had researched exhaustively. There were files with certificates of marriage and death, newspaper articles of the time, photos of the medal and John Collins' gravestone. This boy Owen/Noel was in the photos from pages of various censuses and even mentioned in the obituary of John Collins' death which I am reproducing here.



John Collins' obituary

I hardly looked up from my desk all day until it was nearly too late to go for our walk. But we did and set off at 6.30. Once home, I immediately went to my desk, messaging with Andy on the update of the tree. It wasn't until 9 pm that Eladio and I had our dinner which is really late for me.

Entertainment after dinner was two more episodes of our "Sin permiso para vivir". We are loving it.

Thursday came. I took a break from completing the Lloyd part of the family tree and updating  my father's biography to go to the hairdresser. Going to the hairdresser, unlike many other women, is no pleasure for me but I had to have my roots done and hair cut. For me it's one of those things you have to do in life, like filling the car tank with petrol, a must do thing, but never enjoyable.

It was nice to get out and after the hairdresser, feeling very hungry, went to have a coffee at Alveran. On my way I bumped into an old neighbour and great friend of the girls, Carmen María who, for some reason, was always called "Curry". Gosh, I hadn't seen her for probably a decade. She is now 36, married with a daughter aged 4 and is a teacher of English. It was a lovely moment and we were both overjoyed. We immediately took a selfie to remember the occasion which I later sent to the girls. Here we are together in sunny Boadilla on Thursday morning.

With "Curry" on Wednesday morning, a chance meeting

It felt good to be out of the house. I returned on time to make lunch. Andy was on the point of finishing the Lloyd part of the family tree but we were missing photos of Aunty Nell, Uncle Tom, Aunty Peggy, Aunty Angela, Aunty Gwen, my father's paternal grandparents and a whole lot more. I was also looking for proof of where Raymond, my father's brother who died aged 16, was buried. That I found in an old clipping. At last we knew for sure he had died in Weston-super-Mare on 15th October 1938. We also read in another clipping that the funeral had taken place at his father's church, St. Mary's Henbury (Bristol). The final bit of the puzzle was found when we read he had been interred at St. Nicholas' church in Uphill, the church where my grandparents were married. In a letter from Gloria, my father's sister, upon their mother's death, I also read that my maternal Grandmother was also interred at Uphill. It is a little church near Weston and was the parish church of my grandmother's mother, Elizabeth (Bessie) Scull, née Walters. What a find. I even found the house that my father's grandmother owned in Weston. It's on 22 Charlton Road and, as many of my ancestors' properties, is also on sale.

My father's maternal grandmother's house in Weston-super-Mare

I showed the photo to my father and he immediately told me the address. He also told me the house was called "Sundorne" but he didn't know why. I asked him how he remembered, after more than 80 years. His reply "well we went there an awful lot". What a memory.

I also came up bingo on the photos after going through more of my father's papers and photos again.  I found them all in a small envelope tied with an elastic band. My father had painstakingly written who was who and the date on the back of each of the photos which was really handy. Thus on Thursday we were able to complete the Lloyd side of the tree. This is what it looks like on the screen of Ancestry.com

Pedigree view of the Lloyd side of the family tree

Thus, by the end of the afternoon the tree was completed. The tree was complete with some loose ends and of course the hard part now would be to edit it for printing into a book. So when I said, "completed", it's only the online part that is finished.  Now to complete the Lieven side of it. I think both Andy and I are thoroughly enjoying our work. I can't thank him enough.

After lunch I spent the time scanning the photos and sending them to Andy. I also filed them with the names of the people so that they are kept safely.

We went on our walk quite early and it was beautifully sunny. We decided finally that day, that we would go to our apartment near the beach the next day. Both of us were free to go with no engagements the coming week and we would look forward to lovely weather.

I came back to watch Oli on the TVE, live from Cartagena. She was reporting on the story of another little boy who fell down a pot hole. He was stuck for about an hour but his story ended happily as the firemen were able to get him out relatively easily. Here is Oli reporting that day. She would then stay the night in Murcia and return to Madrid on Friday morning but we wouldn't see her until our return from the coast.

Oli live on TV from Cartagena on Thursday evening

The evening was a repeat of most of the rest of the week and we watched another episode of "Vivir sin permiso". We heard Alba and Javi, my weekly University students, arrive late and I wouldn't even see them as we missed each other when we left on Friday for Santa Pola.

Friday came and it was a glorious day. The weather forecast for the weekend and coming week was great with temperatures more like May than February. It would be great to go to the coast with good weather. We left at about 10.30. We had plenty of stops on the way, taking the journey at our pace. We stopped for lunch at a road side cafe popular with lorry drivers. El Nuevo Cruce is in a town called Caudete, just as you cross from the province of Albacete to Alicante. Here we had a massive lunch for just 12 euros each. They offer a wonderful "menu del día" with plenty of choice.

We got to our flat at around 5 pm and carried up our suitcases, my PC and three great big shopping bags full of food for our stay. It was lovely to be back.

View from the entrance to our apartment

Soon we were settled in and then I set off on a walk to the lighthouse with Pippa. Eladio felt tired after all the driving and stayed at home to read. Pippa and I were practically the only creatures on the walk.  Once at the lighthouse, I stopped for a while to take photos and Pippa spent the time wandering on the cliffs. 

View from the lighthouse 

It's just over an hour's walk there and back and we returned at dusk. After a bath, Pippa promptly jumped up on to her favourite arm chair for a rest. Doesn't she look funny and sweet?

Pippa on her favourite arm chair in the apartment here

We watched the news which was mainly about politics (isn't it always?) but also about Venezuela and how Maduro is not letting humanitarian aid through. US troops are on hand by the border with Colombia which is rather a brooding thought. How will this end I wonder.

We weren't very hungry after our copious meal at El Nuevo Cruce, so opted just for fruit. In the end we had fruit, nuts and some chocolate. I only do a maintenance diet at home. The evening ended with another episode of our latest series on Netflix.

I had come to Santa Pola to wind down and relax and that is just what I have done so far.  The other day I read an article about the mental stress most women suffer due to a syndrome known as the exhausted woman. Exhausted, why I thought when I saw the headline, feeling pretty exhausted myself? Well, it comes from the weight of having to plan, coordinate, supervise, take decisions and be in charge of the logistics of all day to day minutia of running a home. This is not about your partner not taking his or her share of the tasks, it is simply the weight and responsibility of being in charge of everything needed for a home to be run smoothly. I totally identify with that. It's true, Eladio does more than his fair share, I have home help, but even so, the planning and thought going into how the house is run is what is behind the syndrome of the exhausted woman. Add all that to everything else I was doing; the Adamo press conference, the University lecture, the biography, the family tree, and there you have it; me, exhausted  and in much need of a rest from domestic minutia and time for myself.  Just one night into my break here I slept well.

Amazingly on  Saturday morning I woke up at 7 am in our very quiet apartment. That morning we went to the open market in Santa Pola to buy some fruit, mainly the giant juicy oranges which cost just 0.75 euros a kilo. There is a surplus in production and not so long ago protesters were giving out oranges for free in Madrid.

Eladio and Pippa at the market yesterday

From the market we took the car to drive to the new port where we parked and then walked along the beach. It was looking lovely.

The beach at Santa Pola on our walk on Saturday morning

As I took the photo it felt like I was looking at a beach on some exotic island or in the Caribbean. But no this was Santa Pola and just as good if not better. In all our travels abroad I have come to the conclusion that the best beaches really are on my home turf. Olivia who worked for a TV travel programme for a year and even visited The Maldives totally agrees. So none of us really ever yearn for beach holidays abroad. We don't need them, we have the beaches here.

Suzy rang just as we reached that point where the lovely palm trees are. We chatted via a whatsapp video call for a while to catch up on her life. She sounded good. It's wonderful how we can call her, see her and that the cost is included in a flat tariff. How times have changed and for the better, as far as technology is concerned.

Technology will be on show at the Mobile World Congress in Barcelona from tomorrow morning. I used to go every year until 2 years ago. I have mixed feelings about wanting to be there. My Samsung S9 plus will now be out of date as the Korean giant has just announced the curved S10. At 1.800 euros I shall not be buying it.

We had a coffee at a little bar on the beach before we turned on our heels and walked back to the port to get our car.

Pippa and I on the Levante beach at Santa Pola yesterday

 From the port we drove back to our apartment along the coastal road. Once home we unpacked the fruit and veg and then left again to go and have fish and chips for lunch. As part of my rest from the syndrome of the exhausted woman I decided not to cook that day. We were looking forward to lunch at Darby's Chippy where we have been going for the past 10 years nearly every time we come here. We were gutted to see it had closed down. What a pity. We had not option but to go somewhere else and right next door found an Indian restaurant called Azafran Indian. We had been there before but didn't really think it was a very good curry house. However, we were in for luck as it had changed hands and boy was the curry good. It was full too of English and Spanish diners a sign that the food would be high quality. This was our chicken tikka masala and our lamb korma  which we ate with chapatis, the way I learned to eat curry in Bradford as a young girl when the first curry house opened there, The Kashmir. Our Indian lunch, served by two good looking young boys from The Punjab was spectacular and we shall be going again.

Our spectacular curry yesterday 

We slept a good siesta on rather full stomachs and were in need of another walk in the afternoon. It was a very sunny day and we left at 5 pm, wanting to enjoy the last rays of sunshine. There were lots of people on the beach, some no doubt had swum, but even though it was sunny there was a chill in the air and we needed our jackets. We never tire of our walk on the beach below our apartment. Yesterday the light was perfect for photos and I took a few. Here below is Eladio with Pippa on the beach looking lovely with his yellow jumper around his shoulders.

Eladio and Pippa on our walk on the beach yesterday

At the end of the beach, "Arenales" or "Carabasi" as it is sometimes called, you get to some rocks where people go fishing. One of those rocks we call "our rock" where we usually sit and contemplate the sea and the view of the nearby island of Tabarca. I have many photos of us sitting on it and yesterday Eladio took yet another one of me on my favourite rock. When I am sitting on it I am at peace with the world. And If I have Pippa with me, then my happiness is complete.

Pippa and I on my favourite rock on our beach walk yesterday afternoon

We came back to read and rest, except that I worked on more loose ends of my father's family tree. So you see it is not really finished but we are getting there.

Neither of us was hungry for dinner so we just ate some of the lovely fruit we had bought at the market, plus a bit of chocolate - naught but nice. Later we watched more of our Netflix series and were in bed by 11 pm. It had been a great day.

Today, Sunday, promises to be another great day. The sun is already out and the day is ours for the taking. At the end of my tales of the week, I shall leave you now to enjoy it.

Cheers all until next Sunday
Masha

My first book, Suzy singing again, George's birthday, Uncle David's white elephant medals, St, Valentines and other stories.

Sunday 17th February 2019

Eladio and I celebrating St. Valentine's at La Txitsarrería on Thursday

Photo

Hi again. Another Sunday and another blog post. You may ask how I am able to keep up writing my blog weekly, something I have been doing since I started in 2005. That's impressive isn't it? Most people who start a blog give up after a while. I can't give up now as it has become my passion. Thus, with discipline, I write a little bit every morning after breakfast and then it's easier to update it on Sunday and post it.

Last week's post is much more exciting than this week's. But there was a highlight and it was St. Valentine's Day - but more about that later. Oh, there were others of course, so read on.  I must not digress and start from the beginning.

The beginning was last Sunday, the weekend of my birthday. I enjoyed my cake and ate it from Friday to Sunday with my Father and Eladio. We finished it on Sunday and on Monday I would be back to my diet or rather maintenance diet.

Sunday last was a quiet day but very sunny and crisp. My two students, Javi andAlba, were leaving but would be back again this week on  Thursday. They will be here nearly every weekend until the end of June.  Alba is just so sweet and beautiful I had to have a photo of her. Here she is, perhaps my most beautiful guest to date.

Beautiful Alba, one of my sweetest guests ever

I spent most of the morning revising and adding more gems to my father's biography. I started a month ago and it's amazing how quickly I have written the bulk of it.  At lunchtime that day I probed my father with more information from his past. I had added a chapter about his dear sister Gloria, my Aunty Gloria who you will know died in an air crash with all her family in 1971. What a tragedy. I wanted to know more about her early years and I got that information from Daddy. He told me she attended the "Clergy Daughter's College" in Bristol. I thought, how fitting for a Vicar's daughter. I knew she had been evacuated at the beginning of the war and during or just before the blitz. He told she was sent to Wells, safe from the German bombardments. He even remembered she stayed with a lady called "Constance Gig". He went on to tell me he remembered Bristol before the Blitz in 1940 and 1941. He mentioned he would walk along Vine Street onto the High Street where there was a picturesque building called "The Dutch House". Indeed there was and I showed him pictures of the timber framed landmark of Bristol at the time and he nodded with a smile. Thus I had to rush downstairs again after lunch to add the new information to his biography which has now turned into a book. Everything he tells me is fascinating, stories from the past that should not be forgotten. I am delighted to include that he remembers Bristol before it was bombed. Not many people do any more. He is living history for me and the more I write about him and the more I talk to him, the more I love and admire him.

I actually slept quite a long siesta after that though missing the news. The main news that day in Spain was a big demonstration held by the right wing parties calling for the unity of Spain, protesting against the socialist government's "outreach to Catalan separatists" and demanding elections. They would get them.

On our walk with the dogs, Eladio and I mused about the situation in Catalonia and the upcoming trial of the separatist leaders, as well as the problem of Venezuela. We are very much on the same page when it comes to our opinions and interest in the news.

After dinner we watched a semi political debate, part conversation between 2 radically different women politicians. On the one hand the central democratic opposition leader in Catalonia, Inés Arrimadas  from the Ciudadanos Party and on the other her opponent the radical left wing Podemos spokeswoman and interim leader, Irene Montero who is married to the party's leader, Pablo Iglesias. Both are beautiful women and both are very talented debaters but I must say their debate got very heated and it was difficult for the interviewer, the talented Jordi Evolé, to calm them down. It was actually the  most entertaining debate I have ever seen in Spain.

We later watched a tragic but great film called "My life without me", the story of a woman diagnosed with cancer with just 3 months to live and how she keeps the news from her family, yet makes plans for them for when she will no longer be there. It's worth watching and makes you realise just how many things are so superfluous in life when death is at your door.

Monday felt like another trip down memory lane, working on my father's biography. It got bigger and bigger. That day his old school, Clifton College, sent me photos of him in 1934, along with, believe it or not, his school report, just before he left. The teachers who wrote in it were spot on. The first entry in 1928 when he was 9, was "dreamy". Well, yes, my father is the dreamiest person I know. It also mentions more than once that he had "difficulty in expressing his feelings". Well, that couldn't be more true either. It seems, unsurprisingly he was very good at Latin but weak at maths and science. Of course, that's because he would become a linguist. I like the conclusion though which also came true: "he left too young for one to be able to judge whether he would develop any leadership but there were signs that he might do so". It ends with a lovely comment: "a perfectly reliable boy". When I showed the report to my father, he was surprised but unable to show me so, but he did chuckle when I told him they said he was a "dreamer.  Here it is for your amusement. It says secret but I suppose it isn't any more is it?  What a gem to add to my biography.

My father's school report from Clifton College Bristol April 1935.

They also sent another class photo of him in 1934. I then asked them if they had one of his brother Raymond. Raymond, who was born in 1922 was 3 years younger and they were together in North Town at the school. Sadly, as you probably know, he died of polio in 1938, aged just 16, in the days before vaccines. This is the wonderful photo they sent me. Raymond has glasses on and is standing up. His face is circled in red in the picture. When I showed the photo to my Father, he pointed out his brother very quickly saying "Good Lord, there is Raymond". What a blow it must have been to lose his brother so early on in life. His death was the first of many tragedies to strike the family. Today only my Father and I are left and we treasure each other.

Raymond, my father's brother at Clifton College Bristol in 1932. He was aged 10. 

I have to say that all the institutions my father was involved with, Clifton College, Selwyn College Cambridge and Bradford Grammar School, are bending over backwards to help with information and photos of my father. I am eternally grateful and I am including all the people helping me in the acknowledgement section of the  book. On Friday I reached 36.000 words pages which probably make a 200 page book.. You can't begin to imagine the journey I am on and how I am enjoying it. Sometimes it's very sad though and sometimes it's funny. A past pupil of my father's read the manuscript and told me it was both moving and entertaining. It is meant to be.

Selwyn College Cambridge sent me another photo for the book on Monday, this time of my father at matriculation in 1938. I could hardly recognise him but if you look carefully it is clear that it is him in the third row, second from the left.

My father - Selwyn College Cambridge matriculation photo 1938

My father is helping me with the biography by answering all sorts of questions I am throwing at him. I write questionnaires for him, print them out in huge font and then we talk at lunch or after lunch and he gives me his answers. On Monday I wanted to know about his father's and mother's families. I told him that when I was younger, I never listened. If only I had then I could have taped him. He used to talk about Uncle Tom and Uncle Will and cousins in Glasgow and I hadn't a clue who they were. On Monday he resolved a few of the mysteries. He told me he liked answering my questions and when would I be asking him more. Oh bless him. Of course I would be asking him more. He is a mine of information and has an amazing memory for dates. He told me for example the exact date of birth of his cousin Angela - the daughter of his mother's sister Gwendoline. I was flabbergasted. But when I asked about a certain "Uncle David" (David Collins Esquire) who had obtained a medal from the King of Siam in about 1888, he said that it was a bit difficult to remember things that had happened more than a hundred years ago! Indeed it is.

At the moment I am living and breathing his story but I also have a family and must record their lives in this blog too. Eladio always says this is not my blog but the family blog. He is right. Well that day, Suzy was singing in her new band called Chuchis Chuchis at the Opening Party held at the Bali Beat Guesthouse. It looked so much fun. Here is a close up of her with the microphone. Well done Suzy, your singing brings music to my ears. She has always sung very well and was often the soloist with her school choir but had stopped singing. I'm so glad she has started again. Well done darling.

Suzy singing again - it brings music to my ears

Oli couldn't have been further away. On Monday she was sent to the village of Nuevalos in Zaragoza, about 2.5h drive from Madrid. Once again she would be doing a report on a beautiful village with a spectacular waterfall. Here she is with a villager by the waterfall. It would be  a long day for her, traveling there, filming and driving back. The next day she would edit the report and we would see her on the evening programme on TV.

Oli filming on Monday in Nuevalos in the province of Zaragoza

Her programme does get her out and about and even though she is chauffeur driven, it must be rather tiring.

Apart from working on the biography, I also had a look at the clippings from the press conference last Friday for Adamo. I was bowled over to see we had garnered none less than 54 which is huge for not such breaking news. The equivalent in advertising spend would have come to 300.000 euros! I hope my customer is pleased.

There is not much more to say about Monday, so let's move onto Tuesday.

Tuesday 12th February would have been my dear brother George's 64th birthday, a date forever etched in my mind, just as the date of his death is, 15th May. I'm always sad on these days and Tuesday was no different. I posted on social media what I always think and which I reproduce here for you. "It would have been my dear brother George's birthday today. I can never forget him, my talented 6 ft. tall, blue eyed, blonde, handsome brother. He was an even better linguist than my parents, he could learn languages in no time and could play any musical instrument but was a very troubled boy.  I always feel so guilty I got all the luck and he got none. You died too young and we miss you always. My only consolation is that I carry you in my heart. God bless you today and every day RIP." My father and I both spoke about him that day, mentioning his birthday with a heaviness in our hearts.

My golden brother in the mid 70's. He died aged 46 of melanoma on 15th May 2001. RIP

I was much cheered up when I opened the post box to find a lovely personalised bar of Fazer chocolate from my dear friend Anne from Finland. It was to wish me happy friends' day. Apparently in Finland, St. Valentines is also celebrated as friends' day. This is it.

Chocolate from Anne arrived on Tuesday

It wasn't the only present I received that day.  A slip had arrived from Correos (Spanish postal service) and I had to pick up the parcel at the post office. The parcel was from my dear friend Jackie for my birthday. It was an excuse to go out and take a break from writing. As soon as I got in the car I opened it. I am delighted with the  woolen hat and mittens, "Desigual" style that my friend knitted for my birthday and that will be perfect for my walks. Thanks Jackie so much.

My present from Jacky

Apart from continuing with the book, having lunch with my father and Eladio, talking to my father in the afternoon about the past, going for our walk and having dinner, there is not much else to say about Tuesday either. Each to their own in our house and while I was concentrated on my affairs, Eladio was listening avidly to the beginning of the big trial of the Catalan separatists. It's apparently the biggest trial of its kind in recent Spanish history and there are 600 accredited journalists, 50 from abroad. Let's see how it turns out.

Wednesday came and it was another sunny day but I didn't go out apart from the walk. That day I spoke to an ebook publisher recommended to me. Mikel who is from Vitoria has assured me he can do the whole job in a question of days after receiving the manuscript. How easy it is to publish a book these days. Apart from the type setting, the design, etc, he will also upload it on  Amazon for kindle users. Next for publishing hard copies. I have a friend who is an editor, Javier, and he is going to help me. This is so exciting.  I added lots of funny anecdotes from the past related to my father. One of them stands out very clearly. My brother must have been about 12 when he asked my father to tell him the "facts of life". My father's answer; "get on with your German verbs". Of course it was my mother who told us the facts of life and that is another story too long to write here. If this elated period continues, once my father's book is finished, I may well start on hers  The great thing is to write when you have inspiration and I have a lot of that.  When we ended the conversation on the phone, Mikel, being Basque, ended it saying "agur" meaning goodbye!  No one has ever spoken to me in Basque:-)

Meanwhile in Spain all eyes were on two establishments. The first was parliament where the MP's were voting on the 2019 budget. It didn't go through as the separatists wouldn't back it. Without a budget , Pedro Sánchez had not much choice but to call general elections.

All eyes, both from Spain and abroad were also on the  Supreme Court on the second day of the trial of the Catalan separatists, accused of rebellion, among other crimes. Their trial has been criticised as a political one in Catalonia and outside Spain thanks to a very good PR job done internationally by the forces of independence. Spain's judicial system has been dubbed as undemocratic and the country's image has a lot to lose. It's rather ironic that countries around Europe who hardly allow separatist parties, call Spain undemocratic. Let me give you a few examples of their practices which are stricter than Spain's yet Spain is given the label of undemocratic while they are supposedly pillars of democracy. Wrong my friends, wrong. Spain is as democratic or more than most of them. The problem is we have the heritage of Franco's times which never goes away.  The UK for example suspended autonomy for Ulster at least 4 times and will never let the two Ireland's become one nation. Germany's politicians appoint judges, Germany refused a referendum in Bavaria because it is unconstitutional, Holland recently has a similar problem with a region that wants independence and the government took back its autonomy. In Belgium the judges are appointed by the King. In France, the only official language is French; no other language is allowed to be co-official in a region. But, as you see, the language oppressors are Spanish, not French. There are only 3 countries in the world that contemplate in their constitution the breaking up of a region to become independent. They are Liechtenstein, as if that could ever happen there, Ethiopia and the small Caribbean island of Saint Cristobal. Now do you call Spain undemocratic? I do wish the Spanish government could do a better job of defending its democracy vs the Catalan government who are doing a great job at tainting Spain's democracy in the eyes of the wold.

Enough of politics, not my favourite subject I can tell you but the Catalan issue sometimes gets my blood boiling as does Brexit.

The highlight of the day was our walk in glorious sunshine with the sheep in the distance. It was lovely to find a belated birthday card in the post box when I came home. It was from my new found friend, Joanna who is a teacher in Lancashire. We became friends when she was my Airbnb guest here in January. Her daughter, Elisa, who is on her Erasmus year here, would be coming to see us on Saturday because she wanted to meet our dogs and go for a walk with us. I looked forward to meeting her. Dog lovers are my favourite kind of people. It's funny too how her mother and I have made such friends. That's the beauty of Airbnb. 

Entertainment that night was an amazing documentary on some minor TV channel about a young woman in Alabama who gave birth to sextuplets! We stayed up to watch it until the very end. How on earth have they coped I wonder?

Thursday came and it was, yes, you guessed, St. Valentine's Day. It was to be  memorable day for me with a eureka moment which I will tell you about shortly.

I had a break with the biography and joined Eladio on a trip to buy honey. That may sound odd but if you don't know Eladio, honey is his favourite sweet food. He only likes the purest kind, not to be found in supermarkets. We usually buy it near Montrondo but had run out. He found a small shop in Las Rozas specializing in pure honey and off we went. It took us a while to findt but eventually we did. Eladio bought 5 huge jars. I bought a can of excellent olive oil. On our way home we went to the new BM supermarket to stock up on oranges and some fruit and veg as we didn't go to the open market in Villaviciosa this week.

I came home to continue with the biography. I was nearly at the end but I had  a couple of blanks or more on my father's ancestors. Who was his father's mother and who was a mysterious "Uncle David" or David John Collins who had been awarded the order of the white elephant from the King of Siam in 1897? My Father had always told us about his medals but I had never listened and he could no longer remember. . However I wanted to persevere. and among his things was one of the medals and a few parchments related to the them as well as a very interesting letter from the said Uncle David including a reference to Lord Salisbury.  I suspected he was the brother of the mother of my Grandfather whose middle name was Collins.

Meanwhile, my dear friend and my parents' ex pupil, Andrew D had written to me telling me he wanted to do a family tree of my mother for my father's 100th. I was very grateful but said right now I was concentrating on my father's biography and would he please do a tree of my father's family instead. He set about it immediately.

In about half an hour he had found out so many things I was dumbstruck. He used sites such as ancestry.com and find my past. Soon he was constructing the said tree. He found out in no time that my father's paternal grandmother was called Marian Margaret Collins who was born in the Raj, Delhi in 1862 and that her parents were Irish, John from Tralee and Sarah from Celbridge. Wow, so I have Irish great great grandparents. Would that warrant me being able to get an Irish passport I wondered with Brexit blooming? He found many more of my father's ancestors and has now become my official genealogist for the biography. The tree is growing and as I write has 284 people in it, 95 photos and 110 public records. I am so impressed and grateful. I could never have done this alone. 

The beginnings of our family tree

I also asked him to find the certain David John Collins, the  uncle of my father's who had won a medal in former Siam. In no time   Andy actually traced him  and found out  he found out was the sister of Marian Margaret Collins, my father's grandmother. Thus Uncle David was my father's great uncle. He even traced a mention to the Order of the White Elephant bestowed on him by the King of Siam and sent me a clipping from the London Gazette which you can read below. The Queen mentioned in the clipping is none other than Queen Victoria. 

Reference to the mysterious David John Collins and his white elephant medals from the King of Siam (now Thailand)

Finally the mystery of Uncle David's white elephant medals from Siam (Thailand) was solved.

That was my eureka moment on St. Valentine's day. 

Another eureka moment came when Andy also found out the name of the town of the first parish where my grandfather, Revd. John Collins Lloyd first became a curate after entering Holy Orders.  He was from Anglesey and it was in a town, also in Wales in Llanfairpwl. The real name is impossibly long and unpronounceable.  It is officially called: Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch.  I looked it up and found out it is the longest place name in Europe and the second longest in the world. It means, by the way; St. Mary's Church in the Hollow of the White Hazel near a Rapid Whirlpool. I had always thought my grandfather's first parish was in Shrewsbury but on Wednesday I learned it was in this long named town in Wales. What a find. It must have been here he needed his Welsh bible, the one we have at home.

I told my father all this at lunchtime and he was pretty amazed. . In the morning I had written out a new set of questions to ask my father at lunch to add to his biography.  After lunch I said "I'm sorry Daddy for badgering you with all these questions. He replied "oh, not at all, I like being badgered" bless him. Later he asked me if I had any more questions? I do so love him.

Meanwhile, it being Valentine's Day, Olivia had been sent by her programme to do a report on the largest red rose green house in Europe where they cultivate the most prized rose in the world, the Red Naomi. It is located in the town of Garray in the province of Soria. It must have smelled lovely. I asked her to bring me some back as I didn't get any flowers from my husband for St. Valentines. I never do.

Oli at the biggest red rose green house in Europe on St .Valentines Day - Garray in Soria

My husband didn't buy me flowers, but he did take me out to dinner. We went happily to one of our favourite restaurants, La Txitxarrería (try and pronounce that hahaha) where we were welcomed and ushered to our usual table. We spoke about our girls, our love, our lives and I spoke to him a lot about my memories as a girl living in Yorkshire. My mind is on those memories so much after writing my father's book which has become a passion. I'm such a passionate person aren't I?

Eladio is encouraging me and but doesn't get so excited. When I heard it seems that the said Uncle David is buried in the protestant cemetery in Bangkok, I told him we must visit it. He laughed out loud saying what interest could there be in going so far to see the tomb of such a distant relative? Well, I suppose it does sound crazy, yet it doesn't to me. I don't think we'll ever go but I'd love to.

We came home to see Andy our lodger having dinner in the kitchen. I opened Anne's St. Valentine's Fazer chocolate and we all had a piece, well I had two pieces actually. Alba and Javier, my weekly guests had arrived but I didn't see them.

It was difficult to sleep as I was all revved up with Andy's findings and on Thursday woke up at 5 in the morning. I promptly got up, fed the dogs, had a quick breakfast and returned to my desk to continue my work.

Friday came and Andy unraveled more mysteries. I needed the maiden name of my Father's maternal grandmother, known to him as Bessy Scull. She turned out to be Elizabeth Walters. It's amazing the job Andy is doing and I am so grateful. He still has to unearth a few more people - he is going back to the early 1800's but one person I needed him to find is alive. She is my Father's cousin Angela, born to his mother's sister Gwendoline. I have a vested interest in knowing where she lives as apparently she has included a grandfather clock in her will for me. He finally traced her and she is still alive but must be 95 or so. I shall be writing to her soon.

I took a break from the biography to have a long whatsapp video call with Suzy. Eladio joined and it was lovely to see her even if she is so far. We talked about her coming home for the summer and she is. She also promised to join me at this year's cousinade in France. I do hope Oli can come too.  Apart from her lessons, she has taken to singing as I wrote above. Well that day she sent us the most divine photo of her singing with her heart and soul.  Isn't she just marvelous?

Suzy singing with her band, singing with her heart and soul. Love her.

Meanwhile Oli was filming for report on the last pig in Spain able to smell and find truffle. Amazing. I'm dying to see the report. She does have to cover a variety of subjects, hahaha.

The big news in Spain on Friday was that Pedro Sánchez the incumbent PM who took office last June did call for General Elections. After losing support for the budget for 2019 and problems with the Catalan issue, he has had no other option. The elections will be on 28th April. I am sure the outcome will be a coalition government of the right formed by PP, Ciudadanos and the ultra right wing party VOX. This is all down to mathematics. No doubt Pedro Sanchez socialist party the PSOE will win overall but won't get enough seats, even counting the other left wing parties, to govern. And no doubt too the Catalans will regret not having backed his budget as Spain will be ruled by the right wing parties who will stand no nonsense from them. But that was their decision. 

Believe it or not I finished(or thought I had finished) the biography on Friday afternoon and sent off the final manuscript to my friend and editor, Amanda. I can't believe I have actually written a book. I feel elated and very excited. Now I am wondering what people's reactions will be. My final manuscript is only the beginning of what will be an arduous journey with lots of editing, type setting, etc but the most important job is done; the writing of the full content. 

The rest of the day finished as usual, walk, dinner and bed and boy was I tired after finishing the biography and having got up at 5 in the morning.

Saturday came and I realised I had abandoned a lot of my duties. First I had to do my French homework - the damned subjunctive - which took me an hour. Then I had to rush out with Eladio to get some food for lunch and come back to prepare it and then be ready for the lesson.  I saw Oli briefly during the lesson but sadly she didn't stay for lunch. 

In the afternoon I was helping Andy with information for the family tree and meanwhile my new found Airbn friend, Joanna, a teacher of French and Spanish by the way, was in Anglesey where my grandfather was born. She was visiting her sister who lives there. Joanna is very interested in my father's story, so interested that she even went to visit his old home in Holyhead on 19 Aldersley Terrace that day. As the house is on sale, she was able to go in. She described it to me later as a large 5 bedroom 3 story house with lots of original fixtures, such as the tiles and the banister.  The house has views of the sea and the ferry terminal where my great grandfather William Fox Lloyd worked and is a short walk to the beach. She sent me lots of photos. This is just one. I shall have to visit Anglesey too one day. Maybe this summer?

My grandfather's old house in Anglesey which Joanna went to visit on Saturday

While Joanna was in Anglesey visiting my grandfather's house and surroundings, her daughter Elisa came to join us for our walk. It's a small world isn't it? Her daughter is doing her Erasmus year at the local University. She's a great lover of dogs and walks and so wanted to meet us and join us on our walks. 

Elisa on the walk with us and the dogs on Saturday

She's a lovely girl from just outside Manchester with a slight Lancashire accent and is warm and welcoming as most people are from the north of England. We got on like a house on fire and chatted non stop from beginning to end. Poor Eladio was left completely abandoned.  The walk with Elisa was a great end to the week and I hope she comes again.

Today is Sunday and I have come to the end of the tales of my week. I said at the beginning that it wasn't as exciting as the week before but I was wrong. It was one of the most exciting weeks in my life, the week I finished writing a book!!!

So my friends, I must leave you now to get on with the day which, although is Sunday, promises to be busy.

Tara then for now and until next week. 

("Tara is Welsh for goodbye but it is also used in the north of England, at least I remember it being used there from my years in Yorkshire).