Easter week, Notre Dame on fire, the book cover, outing into the city and other stories.

Easter Day, Sunday 21st April, 2019

Oli and I with Miguel and Claudia in Madrid on Friday afternoon

Good morning and Happy Easter to you all.

This Easter week has been full of stories. So let me start from last Sunday. It was a sunny day as the names suggests but it was also Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday always takes me back to my childhood when we would go to church and hold a dry palm leaf in our hands. I loved it. I remember once spending Palm Sunday in Chile in about 2004 when we visited Reñaca beach near Viña del Mar and Valparaiso, not far from the country's capital Santiago de Chile. There we saw a procession of people carrying palm leaves, just as the followers of Jesus laid down palm branches when he entered Jerusalem before his arrest on Maunday Thursday.  In Spain, Palm Sunday usually marks the beginning of the stunning Easter Processions that are held all around the country. One of the first is called "la borriquilla" meaning "little donkey" representing the fact that Jesus entered the holy city on a donkey. I remember seeing this procession in Granada with my father and Eladio some years ago. It is a fine spectacle.

La  borriquilla procession in Salamanca

This year we wouldn't be seeing any of the processions live as we finally stayed at home for Easter. The decision was because of the bad weather forecast in Montrondo, our village in the north west of Spain where we had planned to go. Sadly too many of them around the country were cancelled due to rain. 

Palm Sunday was a lazy day for me. I spent most of it reading. That day I finished The Signature of Things and would start on a new book, The Librarian of Auschwitz. The only thing I did of note that day was go on a very warm and sunny walk with Eladio and the dogs. 

On Monday my Airbnb gift arrived. This was a random gift sent by Airbnb to their finest superhosts, which they must consider me to be. It was nothing special, just a key ring and a mug but it's the thought that counts.

My Airbnb gift that arrived on Monday

We would have a new Airbnb guest arriving that evening, Andy's son Bruce who travelled from Nice but we wouldn't see him until the next day.

Being a quiet day, I went to the hairdresser to get my roots done. I think you know I'm no  great fan of hair salons. I only go because I have to. Unfortunately my favourite hairdresser, Cristina, is on sick leave and I'm not too keen on her replacement. I had to wait quite a long time and wasn't home until after 1 pm.

It was another beautiful day, sunny but a bit windy and maybe a perfect day for a picnic. We have just installed the picnic table I bought online recently and it looks lovely in the garden. I can't wait to use it in the summer with friends and family.

The new picnic table waiting to be used in the garden.

At lunch with my father, he remarked "just 16 days to go". I am well aware the clock is ticking fast towards his hundredth on 1st May but am not in such a hurry as he is for his centenary to arrive as I have so many things to do before. One of them is all the PR stuff around his story and the book that is being published. I keep worrying it won't be on time. Please cross your fingers. That day saw me replying to a journalist from a regional newspaper in the Bristol area where my father grew up.  They wanted photos from me and also a quote about my father. When I asked them what sort of quote, the chief reporter sent me his unfinished article so that I could get an idea. I was a bit shocked by his article which made my father seem to be a sort of James Bond of his time which he certainly wasn't. The reporter had far exaggerated the information contained in my press release. This was his opening paragraph. It made it sound as if my father had single-handedly liberated Norway and won WWII all by himself hahaha: "From vicar’s son to spymaster extraordinaire - the life of West Country-born Lt Courtenay Lloyd is so incredible it could be an inspiration behind Ian Fleming’s James Bond character. Because for Lt Lloyd, who turns 100 next month, he did it all.

From liberating Norway in World War Two to working as an intelligence officer in West Germany during the Cold War and even marrying a princess who fled Russia during the 1917 revolution. He could even speak six languages and later became a teacher at the Joint Services School of Languages, better known by the Soviet secret services as the UK’s spy school." 

I could only suppose that this was the  typical UK journalistic way of fantasising the facts and making a story much more fantastic than it actually is. No way was my father a James Bond character. He is far too modest for that.  I am now waiting in trepidation to see what is published hahaha.

After lunch that day and after all the PR stuff with the regional newspaper, I went to have a quick nap but ended up watching part of the new nature series on Netflix, Our Planet. It is narrated by David Attenborough whose voice is a joy to listen to.   For me at least it is the most stunning nature documentary ever made. It is also a big warning that we have to look after our planet and that there is only about 10 years left to do so. 

 On our walk later we also saw quite a lot of nature including many rabbits and even a grass snake. It was just as we were returning from our walk that I heard that the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris was on fire. I had an eye witness to tell me, my cousin Elizabeth who lives in Paris was there in the centre of the city and saw it burn with her own eyes. This is one of her photos.

Notre Dame on fire - a photo sent to me by my cousin who was there while it burned.

Elizabeth was horrified as were we all when we found out. The fire started at about 6.30 pm and went on for hours until it was under control and finally put out by about 10 am the next day.  The whole world watched as the 90 metre high spire burned and fell as did nearly all  the roof and  the timber framework. This amazing symbol of Paris, of France, of catholicism, this 850 year old Gothic cathedral, the most visited monument in Europe was burning before the eyes of the world and it was terrible to watch. This was where Joan of Arc was beatified, where Napoleon was crowned Emperor and which means so much to France and the French people. It was as if the heart of the country had been ripped in two. Thankfully the stone structure itself is still in place and the cathedral can be rebuilt. Not all is lost.  Not so long ago York Cathedral and Windsor Castle and the Opera House of Barcelona were burned down too either entirely or partially. Eladio remembers in 1966 when he was training to become a priest when the Cathedral of León where he comes from went up in flames too. He was one of the people helping to rescue the art work inside. He told me that water should not be used to put out the flames of a cathedral as it will only make the damage worse. In the case of the Cathedral of León they had to wait for the timber structure to burn and fall before putting out the fire. We asked how this decision was reached and he said it was after consultation with stone masons. Well, they would know. 

We were joined by Olivia for dinner and the three of us watched the events feeling totally stunned. I mean who hasn't been to Notre Dame?  I have been many times but not in recent years. I want to remember it the way I saw it not the way I saw it on Monday, engulfed in fire. Some clever French newspaper used the headline "Notre Drame" (our drama). Indeed it was the world's drama and a very tragic one too.

There was no other news worth watching that night and we went to bed with sober thoughts.

Tuesday came and brought brilliant sunshine and the news that the cathedral structure was still intact and would be rebuilt. I sincerely hope it will and soon. Money has been pouring in from French billionaires and an international fund will be set up. The country's president, Emanuel Macron vowed for it be restored within 5 years. There has also been a lot of criticism about the money, hundreds of millions of euros which many people think should be spent on more worthy causes. I read in an article somewhere that the amount the three wealthiest men in France are donating is actually not that much for them.  The article says that if any of us none rich people had, let's say 3000 euros in our bank account and forked out ten euros towards the restoration of the cathedral, we would be giving  proportionally the same amount as these two rich Frenchmen; i.e. what they are donating hardly counts in comparison to their fortunes. The article also says that between them they have "significantly more money than several European states". So why don't they give the equivalent of a "tenner" to them to Notre Dame and a few more tenners to important humanitarian causes I ask?

The day was quiet and spent at home, apart from our walk. Andy, our lodger, spent the whole morning waiting until 1 pm for his 18 year old son to wake up. We both laughed when I commiserated with him and reminded him how teenagers tend to sleep until very late, just as we once did.

Tuesday saw the beginnings of my thoughts for my next book, this time about my mother. I consulted the transcriptions of her tapes - tapes of an interview with the ex husband of a friend of mine from years ago.  They were very revealing; her time in Berlin  and Vienna during WWII, in a Gestapo prison, her flight from the arrival of the Red Army to Salzburg, the people she met on her way and how she ended up working with the French Control Commission in Feldkirch in Austria. In the notes I read that she and her brother Nicki wanted to make their way to family in Salzburg; Uncle Misha and Aunty Olga. I just had to find out who they were. I learned from my cousin Zuka, they were my maternal grandmother's cousins but I need to know more. I also learned how my grandparents took the decision to stay in Bulgaria after the Soviet Occupation. They had had a chance to leave as did many Bulgarians and non Soviet Russians. My mother and her brothers Sasha and Nicki were expecting them to leave too but they never did. My grandfather, a priest, stubbornly decided to remain with his church in Sofia. Thus my mother never saw him again. She last saw him in 1944 when she was aged 24. That's war for you. Her story promises to be just as fascinating if not more than my father's. I have plenty of material but not many photos I am afraid. The itch to write her story has come but I won't start on it until after my father's 100th birthday. 

My mother in Feldkirch Austria just after the war was over in about 1945. She was 25 when the  photo was taken. 

I could have read the notes all day and will do soon. There is a lot to digest. 

My mother would have approved of our choice for lunch that day - a Russian dish called glupsy (stuffed cabbage leaves) and a dish she used to make. My father and I always loved it.

Both Eladio and I spent a lazy afternoon together both of us reading our respective books - his about the Spanish Civil war, mine about WWII. 

While we were having a lazy day, Oli was having a busy one. She did two reports that day; one about the restoration of the Barcelona Opera House (El Liceo) after the fire. This we were able to watch when we stopped under a tree in the shade on our walk and saw on my mobile. Isn't it wonderful to be able to watch live TV nearly wherever you are? The second one was a live report we would see on TV later. She was announcing the political debate to be held at the Prado del Rey studios where she works for TVE. It was and is one of the three debates to be held on TV before the general elections on 28th April next, in which, by the way I won't be able to vote. I am in voting limbo when it comes to general elections in my two countries; the one I was born in and the one I live in. I cannot vote in the UK elections as I have lived for more than 15 years outside the country and I cannot vote in the Spanish elections because I am not a Spanish citizen. 

Oli on TV reporting on the upcoming political debate on Tuesday night

She didn't have far to come after her live report and was soon home and on time for dinner with her parents. We love having her with us. Later we watched the debate which was pretty tense with most party representatives accusing each other most of the time rather than telling the spectators what their party plans are. 

It was on at prime time which is 10 pm in Spain and far too late. But everything is late in Spain, lunch, dinner, prime time, possibly later than anywhere else in the world. It took me years to adjust to having meals so late when I first started living here. Even so, we have ours much earlier than most people with lunch being at 2 pm and dinner at around 8.15 pm. 

I didn't sleep very well that night and was woken up by the Airbnb App ring tone. I saw I had a new booking. It was from a guest and his family who are from Miami and they will be coming in July where they will be joined by other members of their family from Taiwan! Isn't this just the most international house you have ever heard of?

I was up at the most unearthly hour on Wednesday. I was in the kitchen by 5.40 and feeding the dogs. I would be tired later.   I didn't do much that day. I was getting worried about how my book was progressing now in the hands of the book designers and printers. I finally heard from them that day. Mikel, the agency head, wrote to tell me they were working full speed on it but it was giving them more problems than usual because there a lot of pages and so many photos - there are about 140! However, he promised me he would send me the design of the cover that day and he did. This is the mock up.   There will also be sleeves and the book will be quite sizeable at 23cm x 17cm with a size 12 font for the text. Thank goodness for that as I hate small paperbacks with tiny print.  I have to say that receiving it gave me a thrill. No doubt the thrill will be even greater when I have the final book in my hands. My father will be amazed. He has read many many books in his life but this will be a very special book as it will be all about him. I hope he likes it.

The  design of the cover of the book - it's a mock up

Mikel's email arrived during the afternoon when my great friend Fátima came to see me. Thus I had to put off looking at in depth and sending my feedback although I was itching to. I hadn't seen Fátima since February and it was so nice to chat to her in the garden over a cup of tea and plate of grapes for nearly 4 hours. We got up to speed on each other's lives and both vowed to try and see each other more often.

My friend didn't leave until nearly 7 pm, far too late for our walk. Also by then rain was threatening. Wednesday was to be the last of the good weather. At about 19.20 Olivia was on TV live again, this time reporting from the Spanish traffic centre on the Easter weekend roads. Many people have taken the whole week off. Those who haven't will enjoy Maunday Thursday and Good Friday off as they are national holidays in many regions of Spain. She told spectators that there would be some 9 million people heading for their Easter holiday. Here she is reporting on the traffic and also on the new drones that will help to control it. She explained that these are drones that can see as far as 2km away from a car and can even see a person at the wheel. My goodness, I don't like that. But if it improves the way people behave behind the wheel, then maybe it's a good thing.

Oli reporting on the Easter traffic on TV on Wednesday evening.

Eladio and I had dinner alone that night as Oli had a dinner date with an ex colleague. Later we watched the news. One of the stories was that of the attempt of a Jihadist to blow himself up during the Easter processions in Seville. Thank God they caught him on time. Later we watched episode 10 of our latest favourite series, Secrets of State. It's very annoying that we can't watch it all at once and have to wait a whole week until the next episode is broadcast.

I didn't get a bad night's sleep on Wednesday and woke up on Thursday morning at 6 am. It was pouring it down when I got up. 

Although my book was with the printers, I knew there was still time to add more information, so when I got a reply from New College Oxford, one month after  I sent them an email requesting the records of my grandfather's choral scholarship there in the final years of the 19th century, I was overjoyed. But it meant I had to do more research and add yet another chunk to the book. But never mind. My grandfather, John Collins Lloyd, had won a scholarship to sing in the choir of the University Choir of New College and was there from 1899 to 1902 from the age of 11 until 14. He would have been uprooted from his quiet family life in far away Anglesey but it would have been his most important experience as a boy. What an opportunity for him. His parents must have been very proud. He would attend New College School which provided choristers for the choir. The archivist of the college confirmed the exact dates of my grandfather's time there. He boarded at 19 Holywell Street, a stunning location not far from the Bridge of Sighs and right next to the Bodleian Library. There he lived with 24 chorister boarders in the same house as the apparently "formidable George Carter", the headmaster at the time and with the latter's family.

The Carter family. George Carter sitting on a chair was the formidable headmaster when my grandfather was at New College School Oxford from 1899-1902

The archivist of the college told me there is a book on the history of the school, New College School: A history, by the current deputy headmaster, Matthew Jenkinson. I later wrote to him and he very kindly wrote back, providing me with photos like the one above. Unfortunately there are no photos of the choristers when my grandfather was there. In Jenkinson's book I was able to read about the life of the choristers at the time and it wasn't an easy one.

The boys dined with the family and shared the bathroom. Apparently the food was awful and the choristers must have gone hungry. I’m sure my grandfather pined for his Welsh mother’s cooking. Sometimes, the Wednesday and Friday litany was so long the pupils fainted as a result of their empty stomachs. Their schooling took place nearby at 6 New College Lane and their days were very full. They were up at 7.15 a.m. and in Chapel by 8 a.m. Breakfast was apparently small and lessons began at 9 a.m. and finished at 11.50 a.m. The choristers then returned to the college for three-quarters of an hour for choir practice. Lunch followed and then there was sport until 3 p.m. After sport the choristers resumed their lessons until 4.3 p.m. in time for evensong at 5 p.m. Tea was at 6 p.m. followed by two hours of homework, piano practice and finally games. The choristers hardly had any free time in their long days; just games before going to bed. Bedtime was at 9 p.m. What a hard life for an 11 year old boy. He must have missed home dreadfully. 

That day I also added more information on the fascinating time my father had as an Intelligence Officer with the British Control Commission after WWII in Germany. But I won't include it here as I have already given away far too much about my father's story. You will have to read it when it comes out, hopefully on 1st May next.

On Maunday Thursday it rained all day and all over Spain. Oli had been sent out to report on the Holy Week processions in Madrid. She was to report on one of the most famous ones called "Jesús el Pobre" (Jesus the Poor). Oli is not keen on the processions but she has to report on anything that comes her way.  So that day she had to do a very short intensive course, especially on the vocabulary used. She went there to find hundreds of people waiting outside and just as she appeared on television, it was announced that the procession would be cancelled, as so many others would around the country, owing to the rain. People cried. After all, these processions take nearly a year to prepare. She interviewed the head of the Jesús el Pobre association (called a Cofradía in Spain), Paco, who told her: "we don't cry, it's the rain that does". My daughter told me later that Paco cried too afterwards.

Olivia on TV talking to the head of the Jesús el Pobre association about the cancelled procession

She was on again a while later, this time talking to the people in the crowd who were so disappointed. It was literally raining cats and dogs and Oli had to use a TVE umbrella to talk to the woman. The latter had been coming to see the procession for the last 60 years and was most disappointed for it not to leave the church as she had also been waiting outside for three hours. The Easter processions are a big thing in Spain.

Oli interviewing a follower of the Jesús el Pobre association, upset about it being cancelled.

We cancelled our walk too because of the rain. That night just as I got into bed, I received the final proofs of my book. I was itching to get up and go down to my PC and start working on them but of course it was too late. We turned to Netflix for our entertainment and continued watching a series we had begun called Quicksand. It's not one of the best ones. I do hate it when films or series contain a whole lot of flashbacks and you only really understand what's going on when they end.

Friday of course was Good Friday, the day Jesus Christ was supposedly crucified. We didn't go to church but we did eat the hot cross buns Oli and I had made a couple of weeks ago. My, they were delicious.

I spent the whole morning working on the final proof of the book and was only interrupted by lunch. I would not be able to spend much time on it in the afternoon as Olivia and I had a coffee date in town, in the centre of Madrid. We went to meet my nephew, Miguel who is her cousin and his Cuban wife, Claudia, who is now 9 months pregnant.  We hadn't seen them for a very long time. Claudia's due date is at the beginning of May. We met a café on Goya street and sat for about 3 hours catching up on each other's lives. Yes we did that but actually we spent more time talking about pregnancy, giving birth and motherhood for more or less the duration. Claudia is so informed I told her she ought to train to be a midwife hahaha. Oli and I felt completely ignorant. I had to have a photo of the pregnant cousins for posterity. Here it is; Claudia at nearly 9 months and Oli at 4 months. I do hope their daughter to be, Luna, will be a good friend of my future grandson of no name for the moment. He has no name but I have been calling him "The Pea" from day 1 hahaha.

The two pregnant cousins, Claudia and Olivia in the centre of town on Friday afternoon

It was nice to go into town, into the centre of Madrid. I don't go often and have been so secluded at home for the last three months preparing my father's book and all the other things for his hundredth, that perhaps I needed a break.

Even so, when we got home and it was quite late, I continued with reading and correcting the proof but not for long. We had a dinner date at El Tinglado that night. Eladio and I had been to this new restaurant near us a couple of weeks ago and I was keen to take Olivia, if only to try their delicious foie. She loved it.

I was happy to see that later that night, Olivia made her pregnancy official finally by posting a photo of her with her bump on Facebook and Instagram. It's a lovely photo don't you think?  It's funny to think that inside that bump my little grandson is growing. I wonder what he will be like, the little boy with no name yet?

Oli finally announced her pregnancy on social media on Friday evening

Saturday came and we all had hot cross buns for breakfast again. I promise that after today I shall be back to healthy eating. On Saturday I continued work on the proof reading. I then sent it to my friend Amanda who checked it too. This morning I will go through it for the last time and then send it to my publisher. Fingers crossed there are no silly mistakes and fingers crossed it will be ready on the day.

It didn't rain in Madrid yesterday but it rained in many places in Spain, especially on the south east coast, the Costa Blanca. Ironically the weather was better in England than in Seville or St. Tropez. Yesterday was England's hottest day of the year with temperatures reaching 25c. That sounds wonderful except that it caused a fire on our beloved Ilkley Moor and surrounding areas. I couldn't believe  the moor was on fire.

Ilkley Moor on fire yesterday

A walk up Ilkley Moor was one of my father's favourite walks when he lived in Bradford from 1964-2005. He must have gone up it countless times. He used to take George and me too when we were children. I would have been about 7 or 8 when he took me for the first time and forever afterwards he would call me "his little moors' girl" except that I wasn't. I didn't really like him calling me that as when I was younger I was not keen on walking, especially uphill. What I did like though was being bought sweets or being taken to Betty's that quintessential Yorkshire tea room in Ilkley where both he and I would indulge in our favourite cake, the meringue with cream and fruit in it. Not for us the "fat rascal". It was only later in life that I developed his passion for walking. I'm sure my father will be very sad to read this morning about the fire on his beloved moor.

Our guests were out all day yesterday. We have hardly seen our Venezuelan doctor guests. I do know though that they sought refuge from the rain on Friday by visiting the Prado where they spent 6 hours contemplating the wonderful paintings in Spain's most famous art gallery. Otherwise we haven't seen them. Andy, our Scottish guest, did lots of "boy things" with his young son Bruce who came to spend the week with him. They went go-carting, did paint ball and yesterday played ping pong on our outdoor tennis table. I'm afraid Norah was naughty yesterday when she snatched and ate Andy's packet of chicken which was placed too dangerously near the edge of the kitchen top. What a naughty and greedy beagle we have.

Luckily as it didn't rain Eladio and I were able to take our dogs for a walk yesterday. It was quite pleasant with a temperature of about 21c but rather windy. We came home to have a light dinner - we had had fish and chips for lunch (naughty) - as we weren't very hungry.

For us it was early to bed and we didn't hear our guests come back. They will all be leaving this morning.

Today is Easter Day. All that remains for me now is to wish you all a very Happy Easter whether you celebrate and believe or not. I shall be preparing roast lamb for lunch and can't wait to have some of the luxury Lindt Easter Egg I ordered online. My father got his yesterday and it's a Thornton's one. No doubt he will love it if he hasn't already eaten it. He does have a very sweet tooth which I have inherited from him.

So my friends, I shall leave you now until next Sunday. All the best till then,
Cheers Masha