Sunday 12th December, 2021
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| Pic of the week - coffee at Alverán |
Good morning all. How are you doing?
We are still going through hell but taking Sir Winston Churchill's advice to carry on going and never never to give up. No doubt I am not the only one. Certainly Britain's PM, the infamous Boris Johnson is too although he has no squatters. He does have a lot of children though. His hopes that his latest new born would overshadow any negative news about him has not worked. He has anything from 7 to 12 children from 3 wives and a mistress. Not exactly a loving and loyal husband in my opinion. He has come under political fire for many things recently; his bumbling speech with references to Peppa Pig, his new restrictions for Covid and a sleaze scandal about the funds for refurbishing Number 10. Far worse are the stories coming out in the press about Christmas parties being held last year at Downing Street just when the rest of the nation was told not to gather together. He has denied there were any parties, yet his previous spokesperson, Allega Stratton, had to step down,over a leaked video showing her laughing about the party. So there was a party right and more than one? If so I would like to know why is Bojo denying it? Can he really get away with all this negative PR and his lying which is so obvious to the nation? Probably he can. Poor old England being led by such a clown and a lying one at that. He got Brexit done but what a mess the country is in post Brexit.
There was no sign of our squatter last Sunday. He no longer sleeps here we think although we cannot know as he may come after we have gone to bed but he can come and go as he pleases with no prior warning. Because of this we hesitate very much to leave the house. When we are in our room we always lock the door. Isn't that awful?
The house was quiet last Sunday 5th December. Normally on that day we would have put up the Christmas decorations but my heart wasn't in it and we had a quiet lazy day alone. Our Venezuelan guests left early to visit the city along with hundreds of thousands. Madrid has become a much more popular tourist destination these days and it was teeming over the bank holiday. I looked on aghast at the images of the crowded streets. It's true most people were wearing masks but with the new Covid variant, "Omicrom" on the increase, I wondered why people were daring to be out in big crowds. Although travel restrictions are in place in many countries, there is no stopping this new variant which arrived beforehand and now we have community infection in many countries. It does seem though that Omicrom is not as virulent as thought but it is very infectious and many people , although they are vacccinated, have caught it. Thankfully most of them are asymptomatic. Those who are not vaccinated are the ones in danger. I do wish the booster jab programme would take speed but above all I wish that there was a way to speed up vaccination programmes in continents like Africa where the percentage of those vaccinated is the lowest in the world. It's all very well to take care of our own in the rich countries, but if we don't do something about the poorer countries, the virus will continue to mutate and spread and who knows what form it will take on and whether current vaccinations will prove resistant?
Our Spanish guests left late, not till 1.30, way after our crisp and cold walk in the sun. They came back again in the afternoon to look for a wallet one of them thought they had left here but there was no sign of it. That left me feeling worried. I don't like things like that happening. We are now going to put locks on all the rooms as a measure against anything like this happening again.
I spent part of the afternoon watching Chicago Med with Pippa by my side and part of it skyping with my dear friend Amanda. She came up with another article about our squatter, this time from the LA Times. His story definitely made the rounds but who knows what to believe.
I told my friend that since we had last talked I was feeling less stressed, sleeping better and also eating more. But I also told her I was having nightmares. One was about "him" coming into our bedroom and crushing our door key leaving us vulnerable. I had another one the next night which involved my mother and my phone being stolen and someone forcing me to make a bank transfer. So for the moment I am better but the nightmares persist.
Monday came and it was 6th December; "Constitution Day" which marks the anniversary of the referendum held to approve it in 1978 .I remember being in Spain when that happened. I was just a student having my year abroad as part of my degree in Spanish but remember the fervour on the streets in Post Franco Spain. Today there are voices asking for changes to be made. They mostly come from the areas of Spain that want independence. Maybe there should be some changes but I can hardly imagine any of the political parties coming to an agreement on them. If they can't come to an agreement to renew the governing body of the Spanish judiciary (CGPJ) there is no way they could ever come to an agreement on renewing the Spanish constitution. Other countries' "magna cartas" are centuries older and they seem to do fine. Why do Spaniards always have to politicise or argue on such matters' It is the national sport to criticise anything any government does.
Far away in Finland, the people there were also celebrating. It was Finland's Independence day from Russia, only 104 years ago. Russia is much in the news these days for a huge military build up on the Ukraine border. It is thought Putin might want to invade the country's neighbour. I wouldn't put him past it.
14 years ago, my dear Finnish friend Anne spent Independence Day and Constitution Day with us. We went with my father who was 88 at the time and in very good health to stay at the Parador in Gredos (the first one in Spain) - the mountain range in Avila, near Madrid. Funnily enough it was where the first draft of the Constitution was written. The so called "fathers of the constitution" went to this peaceful building to get away from the public eye and agree upon a first version. I was reminded this week of our wonderful trip there and could understand why this Parador surrounded by mountains and peace was the perfect place to get away from it all.
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| At the Parador in Gredos with my Finnish friend Anne, my father aged 88 and my husband Eladio looking extremely young. |
That seems years ago now. Oh where have the years gone?
On Sunday it was the day after Juliet turned 3 months - a milestone we nearly forgot about. So when Oli sent us this lovely photo of her that day it cheered us up. She put it on social media and in reference to our squatter, said it was Juliet who raised our spirits these days. Indeed she does. This is her, growing and changing every day. She doesn't look like anyone in the family or at least I don't see the resemblance. Maybe we will as she gets older.
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| Juliet aged 3 months and 1 day. Growing. |
We were in bed early and watched a silly film called The Protector until we fell asleep. I had a nightmare and was awake at 2 something and took ages to fall asleep again.
I woke up earlier than ever Tuesday morning and got up at 5.50 while my dear husband placidly slept. I wish I could sleep even half of what he does. That morning while I was working the door bell rang. I was amazed to see it was someone from the RACE to tow away our squatter's car. I thought the squatter wasn't at home but he suddenly appeared and as he did, I disappeared as I do not want to come face to face with him. Not long after the car which has been parked on our property without moving for more than a month was gone. What a relief. But then I worried, had "he" just come or had "he" slept the night. It's awful going to bed and not knowing if he will come. But now we put the alarm on at night to alert us. That should stump him.
Our Venezuelan guests left a bit later and were driving home to Lisbon where they live. Candy, the woman, told me of their odyssey to leave that desperate country. She is not the only one.
You may have thought I had finished with the nationality process after getting my Spanish ID card and passport but no. I still needed a certificate from the police "certificado de concordancia" to prove I am the same person with the previous residency number as with the new ID card.Only with the certificate can you notify all the government institutions or private ones of your changed status. That includes our bank, my private medical insurance, the social security department, treasury and I am sure there are more. My lawyer sent me the coveted appointment for this Thursday along with all sorts of forms - the process never ends - as well as a form for payment to the police of 7.24 euros. If only it was so easy as to pay the police when I get the certificate but no. I mean why didn't they just give me the certificate when they gave me the ID card? They have to make it difficult. The only option was the "hole in the wall" at my bank's branch - not another branch. So off we went for what must be the 4th time this month. Once again there was a huge queue as my old bank (Bankia) has merged with La Caixa and everything is a mess. I tried and tried again with the cash machine to pay the silly tax to no avail. We waited an hour to go inside and be received by someone only to be told the cash machine couldn't do that operation currently and to do it online on the bank's app as they can no longer do it manually in the bank (for XXX sake!). If only that were easy too. The cashier tried and failed using the app on my phone and told me to come back on Thursday. I finally managed to do it online at home on my PC only to be told by my lawyer that I had to go back to the bank again as the police would not accept online payment!!! It was and is a bureaucracy nightmare. I asked my lawyer to tell me where it written that the police couldn't accept online payment and she said nowhere but from experience she knew it wouldn't be accepted. This last requisite for full Spanish nationality which I actually think my lawyer should have done for me (she has not been of much help and is not very pleasant either), was the straw that broke the camel's back when it comes to understanding Spanish bureaucracy. Many things can be done online with a digital signature - and that is not easy to get either - but the whole process has been paved with stupid paperwork to be submitted over and over again with all sorts of stamps and taxes none of which are easy to get. This is the stupid tax form, the so called 790-Model 012 used for paying fees for immigration matters.
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| The nearly impossible to pay for tax form |
Would the nightmare ever be over? I wonder what the process is like in other countries. I reckon Spain's must be one of the most difficult. It feels like an insult as I have lived here for 40 years, have been married to a Spaniard for 38, have paid taxes for 40 years and not only that, I even have a degree in Hispanic Studies. But none of that was enough to exonerate me from any of this awful process.
It was Elliot who took my mind off our wasted morning. Oli dropped him off at the bank as she had to take Juliet to the health clinic for a routine vaccination. Later they would join us at home for lunch and that night Elliot was to have a sleepover at ours; his first. I wanted to give his parents a break. They really needed it. We had a pleasant lunch of mostly leftovers but nice ones - bean stew, red lentil soup, "bitkis" and red peppers - a choice for all.
In the afternoon we started talking about Christmas and Oli said they had already put up their decorations. So far I hadn't been in the spirit I'm afraid. My daughter offered to help so that's what we did on Tuesday afternoon until everything was up, or nearly everything. Elliot is only 2 so still too little to realise what Christmas is all about although he does know how to say it: "Cwima" (hahahaha).
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| Our little tree up this week |
Elliot's parents stayed for dinner too. They had invited the girls' friend Elena to their house for dinner but after a spur of the moment decision we ordered an Indian take away for all of us Thus I broke my diet again. Promise I will be good until Christmas Eve. This was it - delicious and very recommendable. The restaurant has a Spanish name, "Mar y Montaña" but the food is very authentic. We had what we love most: onion bhajis, poppadoms with the various sources and then lamb and chicken korma and tikka massala. This was accompanied by pilaf rice with saffron and plain naans. It was a real treat.
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| Our Indian dinner at home on Tuesday evening. |
Later Oli got Elliot ready for bed and he jumped into my side of our huge bed. I put on Fireman Sam for him and he seemed content. In fact he looked very happy.
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| Elliot happy to be in our bed. |
Elliot didn't seem to mind when his mother said goodbye. Eladio, poor chap, was sent to Oli's bedroom to sleep but Pippa stayed as she takes up little room. Elliot would fit in our bed which is 180cm as he moves a lot at night.I gave him a massage and was amazed that quite soon he fell asleep.
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| Elliot during his sleepover at our house this week |
Thus I switched channels and had some more time on my own watching Chicago Med. He woke up at 4.30 and then the fun began but he didn't cry, nor did he ask for his parents or have a tantrum. He just woke up and took time to fall asleep again. He took a while and so did I. The next I knew it was 7.30 and he was awake and very wet, needing his nappy changing. I thought that would be it for the night and we would have to get up - me forfeiting my alone morning time with my first cup of coffee, but a miracle happened and he fell asleep again and didn't wake up till 8.45. That gave me time for my own breakfast and for Eladio to have his shower. All in all Elliot's first sleepover with us had been a success. Olivia was amazed as our grandson has never been a good sleeper and often wakes up having tantrums. But there were no tantrums that night. His mother classed this as a "miracle".
Coincidentally Wednesday was the Immaculate Conception when the miracle of all miracles happened, bringing us Christmas in the end. It was the last day of the very long Spanish bank holiday - not that we got much of a holiday. It's all stay at home at the moment because of our damned squatter. We felt very alone in our great big house, no father, no Lucy, no Elsa, no Norah; just the two of us and tiny tot Pippa rattling around in it. It's taking some getting used to. Wednesday was 8th December and I only realised at the end of the day that it was one month exactly since my dear, dear father passed away. How could I not have remembered that when I remember him all the time?
Maybe it was because we were busy with Elliot during his sleepover.and worried about our squatter. After his meagre breakfast - he doesn't want to eat much these days - watching his beloved Fireman Sam or Simon (the rabbit), I was determined to give him a bath. He needed one desperately. I know he is not keen on his baths and that someone usually has to go in with him. We had both had our showers so in he went alone and a little hesitantly. As I can't bend down on my knees owing to water on my left knee, it was Eladio's job to bathe our little grandson. As I watched him, I remembered him lovingly bathing our girls when they were small. I also remembered him bathing our dogs, Elsa and Norah who passed away sadly this year - what a horrible year it has been.
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| Eladio bathing Elliot |
All was well until we decided to press the jaccuzzi button thinking Elliot would find it fun. The spouts were not completely covered with water so we got soaked ourselves as the water spewed out. Elliot was alarmed and we immediately had to switch the jacuzzi off hahahaha.
His parents came for him an hour or so later and then Miguel's mother and brother. That meant no walk again for us. They left shortly before we had our lunch; mostly leftovers. The afternoon was quiet. I actually slept from 3 to 5. I was short of sleep after Elliot interrupting our night. All was calm and quiet until we had some more bad news I can't divulge here as it is too private. Another blow? Oh God no. We went to bed that night upset and worried and tried to calm down by starting a series about Catherine of Aragon - The Spanish Princess. I have gaps in my knowledge of history and had to be told by my more educated husband that she first came to England to marry Prince Arthur, eldest son of Henry VII. I had no idea. When he died she married his more famous brother, Henry VIII and we all know the rest of the story I imagine.
Thursday came and I would have to go to the bank again to sort out the damn payment of 7.24 euros for the Tax form 790 and knew I would be facing a long queue. I would need it done as the appointment with the police for my "certificado de concordancia" was the same day at 6 pm. We got to our bank and saw a queue of about 20 people. Thus we tried our luck at other banks. One turned us away saying it had to be at our branch. I was cleverer at the next bank and said I didn't have a bank account in Spain. Thus the lady did the job for me in the hole in the wall. Shortly afterwards I had the receipt I needed to give to the police to get the certificate to prove I am the same person as before but I had now paid twice for it. Have you followed that? Eladio kept saying this is Kafkian. Damn right he is.
From the bank we drove to Pozuelo to an American food shop - Taste of America - owned by friends of mine from my Motorola days. I went to get Christmas crackers which are very difficult to find in Spain and on online because of Brexit. I was told at the shop that they were selling last year's stock as they couldn't get any either this year from the UK. Oh hells bells. I spent 70 euros on crackers, a fortune. But soon Eladio trumped me when he spent 300 euros on Christmas lottery tickets - "El Gordo". It's a huge tradition in Spain. I remarked he had spent as much on lottery as on presents. His reply was that presents don't give prizes. Hahahaha. Most of my Christmas present shopping this year so far has been online and via Amazon. Eladio hates the bills I run up on Amazon but I like to think of the saved time shopping with one click rather than searching for presents at shops. I got toys for Elliot and Juliet which arrived the next day.
6 pm came and Eladio took me to the Police Station to get the certificate. It's strange how it is police stations in Spain that deal with immigration and identity papers. I think they would be better employed getting rid of squatters but no. The police station was huge and there were long queues of immigrants. Luckily my queue was small and 5 minutes later or so out I came with the needed certificate. Why oh why couldn't I have been given it when I got my new Spanish ID card. It's unbelievable.
I came home to scan it and send it to my accountant and to make a list of places I have to go and show it to and that's quite a long list. At 8 pm sharp we had our dinner quietly in the kitchen, just the two of us with little Pippa.
That night I slept a bit better and was up at 6.10 on Friday am. Friday was shopping day. We are noticing that our shopping lasts longer these days and that we are spending less. Well, of course we are as it's only really us now and Lucy during the week. We stopped for coffee at Alverán, as we always do. Eladio wonders whether I have shares there. Over our coffee he looked at me and said "you are beautiful". How sweet of him after all these years. I didn't feel it. I just felt old and tired and worried. As I had no feature photo for this week's post, I asked him to take a photo. Did I like it? Well, yes and no. I had made an effort clothes wise that morning but had no makeup on apart from lipstick and you can see the roots in my hair - they need dying - it's the wrinkles that make me look old. I tried to smile for the photo but my smile is diluted because of our current situation. But it would have to do. I have to say I do like the blue coat. I had completely forgotten I had it. It's from Zara a few years ago. Not, that I am very interested in clothes these days but it is nice to come across items you have forgotten about and make you look a bit better. My friend Kathy says I look "classy". That's nice to hear but in Spain I can't even begin to compete with the really classy Spanish ladies who always look so well turned out.
We came home with all the food, put it away and had lunch. I sent Lucy home in the afternoon as frankly we don't need her at the weekends. She was delighted. Her workload is a lot lighter since my dear father passed away.
That afternoon I had a video call with my dear friends Kathy and Phil. They are also continuing their own private journey through hell. Kathy has just lost her father, Phil has had his shoulder replacement removed after an infection and to top it all my friend sprained her ankle. Now they are near "invalids" and a bit down too. So we commiserated - a trouble shared is a trouble halved - and I felt a lot better an hour and a half later - yep we chatted for that long. Then it was dinner and to bed to watch more of the series about Catherine of Aragon.
Saturday came and it was the quietest day of the week. We had no guests this weekend, the first in many many months. My next bookings are not until after Christmas but then you never know as bookings can be very sudden. So no guests this weekend, just us and Pippa and as I say it feels oh so quiet - a bit too quiet really. I can't get used to not having my father after 16 years with him. I realised yesterday that this Christmas will be one of the very few in my life without him. I can only remember three Christmases without him. The first was in Mexico when I was 18 and with my mother and brother. He had to stay because of school lessons. The next was in Tárbena, a tiny village in the mountains of Alicante at my first boyfriend's house and the third was at Eladio's parents' house a year after we met I think. I remember it vividly. There was no turkey, trimmings or any of the English traditions I was used to. Instead I saw a huge dead octopus in the kitchen which was to be the main ingredient for their Christmas Eve dinner. I nearly had a fit, refused to eat it and was given some left over pork chop instead. Since then I insisted on spending Christmas with my parents and then, after my brother and mother died, with my family and always my father. I found a photo of me with him on Christmas Day last year. Little did I know it would be the last photo of my father and I at Christmas. This is it and I treasure it.
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| With my father on Christmas Day last year |
My father adored Christmas just as I do. His mother, my grandmother, was very good at organising Christmas and I have always carried on her traditions which were instilled in me since I was a very little girl. This Christmas is going to be very hard without him. As I thought about Christmas without him yesterday I cried for him, my mother and my brother and once again felt orphaned. My grief process was interrupted by our squatter - "he who shall not be named" to quote my friend Andy. Now that I am more used to the horrible situation I suppose I am resuming the process. He will be forever in my heart and thoughts.
He would have approved of our morning walk in the sun - he loved the sun in Spain but preferred it in the colder months always saying January was his favourite month in this country. That was our only trip out that day. I made a wonderful roast shoulder of lamb for us both - a bit of an extravagance but oh so tasty. In fact I roasted two baby shoulders of lamb and we had one each. The only trimmings - owing to my diet - were roast red pepper and some mint sauce I found at the back of a cupboard. My father would have been disappointed as he was not a great meat eater but loved the trimmings, especially the roast potatoes and "lashings of gravy" to quote him.
It was in the evening watching the news in bed we heard of the death of Spanish tennis legend - Manolo Santana. He was the first Spaniard to win Wimbledon and Roland Garros. That was in the 60's and I think I remember his win at the All England Club in 1966 when I was just 9. He had never competed on grass before, saying grass was for cows! His name became big and he was seen as an outsider against mostly Australian players at the time. I also remember other Spanish players such as Orantes and Gimeno but he was the best until the new generations came along. He was one of the first big names in Spanish sport along with Seve Ballesteros. His origins were very humble and he started off as a ball boy, just as "Seve" started off as a caddy. He built his first tennis racket from the back of a chair! What he did for Spanish sport in Franco's days was nothing less than amazing. He also paved the way for tennis to become a sport not just reserved for the elite. Since his departure from the courts, Spain has become one of the biggest producers of great tennis players and a lot of it is thanks to him. It was Nadal who led the tributes yesterday.
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| Santana, the first Spaniard to win Wimbledon |
The tennis "trailblazer", died yesterday at his home in Marbella aged just 83. I read he had Parkinson's disease - how sad. But he will be remembered always for his sporting feat and influence on tennis even today.
Today, my friends, is Sunday and it will be another quiet day alone in this great big house. So, I shall leave you now to get on with the day.
Cheers till next week,
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