Madrid, Sunday 7th December, 2025
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| Chocolate con churros at San Ginés on Monday in Madrid; best ever. |
Good morning again. December has got off to a start yet I still haven 't put up the Christmas decorations. We are leaving it until I get back from the UK.
Meanwhile we went for a walk to our local churros bar and indulged. Tana had left when we got home so we made lunch ourselves out of my cocido leftovers - I do love leftovers.
From there we walked nearby to visit the Christmas market at the Plaza Mayor where we have been going every year since I came to live in Spain, apart from a few exceptions. It was lovely to see it practically deserted on a cold Monday morning. Today it will be teeming with people. The market itself is nothing special unless you are looking to add to your nativity crib collection which I wasn't. People here often have an ornate Nativity crib as well as a Christmas tree. I rather like that as it shows the real meaning of Christmas, the celebration of the birth of Christ. Thankfully, Christmas is not so commercialised here. We took more photos here like this one of me to remember the day.
Ashamedly I have to confess I was more attracted to the stalls selling joke and prank items. I hesitated before I bought a plastic piece of pooh and a joke chewing gum pack which I am dying to try out on Elliot and Juliet. My mother would have been equally attracted as I remember her once bringing some of the joke s*** home from a shop opposite Leeds University where she was a languages instructor. She wanted to play a prank on my father who hated dogs because of their "doings". Once home, she put it on the steps of the porch and when he saw it, he got a shovel out to remove it. I still laugh at that story. So watch this space for my grandchildren's reaction. It's obvious I haven't lost the child in me even if I am in my late 60's hahaha.
We had a superb lunch but tried not to eat too much; not that we had big appetites after the chocolate and churros in the morning.
Another memory of course is of all the parties my poor parents allowed me to organise for "my gang", mostly made up of BGS boys and St.Joseph's girls. Many a party was held at 6 Heaton Grove while my father hid from his pupils.
Many people would have put them up the Sunday gone, the last day of November but not us. I am very traditional about that. I had guests coming and going that day as I have had all week, including this weekend. This year we haven't had a guest free weekend. Let them come, let them come, let them come haha. Elliot once asked if our house was a hotel. It's more like a guest house and we actually like running it. Some people would think we are crazy.
That day Leonardo and my 4 guests from Barcelona left. Jennifer the policewoman was still here and later in the day Jon arrived from Bilbao (he is building a skateboard park where my grandchildren play) and later Rachel. Rachel is Dutch and married to an Italian dentist and lives in Milan. She has twin sons; one of whom is studying to be a doctor in Italy and the other is doing dentistry here. It's her second stay and it is always a pleasure to host her and one of her gorgeous looking sons. I was interested to hear they had both studied at a boarding school in the UK. Only missing was Basem, my Peruvian doctor who came the next day.
Tana was busy preparing all the rooms and I was happy to see her using the new duvet covers in my father's old bedroom. They were to replace duvet covers which were tearing at the seams that we had bought for Oli's bedroom at least 25 years ago. I chose them to go with the curtains of the same material so as not to have to change the latter.
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| New duvet covers from Ikea (of course) for my father's old bedroom |
While we were enjoying a quiet life, there was a demonstration in Madrid to demand snap elections after all the scandals coming out of the Socialist Government. There was one more this week when it was discovered two female workers had complained in the summer about the sexual harassment at the hands of a top official who worked closely with the PM, Pedro Sánchez. Francisco Salazar made life impossible for the women who worked for him and I won't go into details as his behaviour was disgusting. It's ironic that a top official from the PSOE party should behave like that as the party sees itself as the saviour of feminism. What was worse is they did nothing until it came to light. Eladio was half inclined to go to the protest but I hate demonstrations and we didn't go.
On the other side of the world, Donald Trump somehow managed to shut down Venezuelan air space.He is on a mission to end the drug trafficking which he says is led by the socialist President Maduro, himself. Trump has been attacking drug traffic boats killing people at sea and now threatens a land invasion of the country itself. It is said he telephoned Maduro asking him to leave the country but we don't know if that is true. Meanwhile, many Venezuelans outside the country can now not fly home. Barajas airport in Madrid is full of them.
Monday was 1st December and was the 4th anniversary of my obtaining Spanish nationality which I applied for after damned Brexit as I wanted an EU passport. However, they never made a fuss of it and there was no ceremony whatsoever. It hasn't made much difference to my life except that I am now able to use the coveted ID card we have here and that Brits seem not to want. It opens all doors here. Let's see if it ever comes to my birth country.
Monday was the day we chose to go on our annual Christmas outing to the centre of Madrid. It's an event we always enjoy and this time was not going to be less. Suzy came with us to pick the kids up and take them to school and then we dropped her off at the Metro station as she was going to Vitoria (up north) to spend the week with her best friend Copi. She later sent me photos. Here is one of them together in this Basque city where Copi now lives with her husband Unai.
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| Suzy with Copi this week in Vitoria |
I gather they both had a great time as Suzy told me she hadn't laughed so much in ages. That was music to my ears.
We, meanwhile, took the metro with our free travel card but not on the way back, at least for me, as mine disappeared while in the city, along with my visa card. They must have been stolen. Thankfully I had left the rest of my wallet behind. We took the metro to the Puerta del Sol, the very centre of Madrid. It was very early so I suggested a second breakfast at Chocolateria San Ginés, Madrid's most famous chocolate and churros café which is open 24h a day. In all my 44 years here, somehow I had never been and Monday was the time. Here am I outside and surprised not to see much of a queue as I had heard they are long. Ah but we had chosen to go early on a Monday morning to avoid the crowds.
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| Outside the famous chocolate and churros place, San Ginés, in Madrid on Monday |
I can hardly imagine what it's like today during this weekend's long bank holiday to celebrate Spain's 1978 Constitution (6th December) and the Immaculate Conception tomorrow (8th December). We got a seat and were served the best chocolate drink and best churros ever, not to mention the enormous "porras". Eladio took a photo and I have chosen it as this week's feature photo. It had to be of me stuffing my face on divine Spanish breakfast food.
When we had had our fill. we wandered to the Puerta del Sol again, looking for a particular "turrón" shop (Spanish sort of nougat popular at Christmas) where I wanted to get some proper nougat; the softer kind. Every year I shop for turrón at Torrons Vicens on the Calle Mayor. The choice is amazing. I got what I wanted and we continued back to the Puerta del Sol to take pictures and guess what? Yes, buy more Christmas lottery. That is what pleases my husband in the festive season. Here he is the main square and again after spending another fortune on lottery.
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| Eladio in the Puerta del Sol next to the Real Casa de Correos which is like Trafalgar Square or Times Square in that people celebrate NYE here and the chimes come from the clock at the top of the building. |
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| Eladio with his lottery tickets |
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| At the Christmas market in the Plaza Mayor on Monday in brilliant sunshine |
The day didn't end there. There was more to come. At 12.30 we had a coffee date with Eladio's brother Toño and his wife, Dolores who needs no introduction in this blog. She is the famous sister-in-law who introduced me to Eladio after finals in the summer of 1980 and, as they say, the rest is history.
We met at one of my old favourites; a sort of Spanish Betty's called La Mallorquna in Sol which opened in 1894. I love these sort of quaint cafés. When I was a student here from September 1978 (yes, the year of the Constitution after Franco's death) till June 1979, I used to frequent the Mallorquina and always bagged a table by the window with a view of Spain's most famous square. I would spend hours there over one coffee writing down new vocab in an exercise book I carried around always. Every time I learned a new word I wrote it down. I still have that lovely little exercise book bound in green leather which I bought at El Corté Inglés, Spain's flagship department store. I used to spend all my money earned from teaching English there. I just loved the place and still do.
It was good to meet up with Toño and Dolores whom we hadn't seen since they left Montrondo during the fire last August. There never seems to be a good moment to meet up but we made it happen this week.
I would have loved them to come to lunch with us but they couldn't. I had booked a table, again, at El Qüenco de la Pepa, that marvelous restaurant where the chef, Pepa, serves vegetables, mainly tomatoes, from her kitchen garden in Ávila. This was the view from our table.
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| Lunch at El Qüenco de la Pepa on Monday |
We had left Pippa alone at home and I was worried so asked Rachel, our guest, to let her out. She later sent me a photo of Pippa, our soon to be 12 year old chocolate coloured, smooth haired, miniature dachshund, on her bed. That's unheard of as she won't let anyone but us pick her up. I felt better after seeing the picture.
She was delighted to see us when we arrived home at about 4.30 pm after a wonderful day in Madrid, the best day of the week.
We retired to our quarters and that is when I looked at Facebook and saw an invitation from an old friend, Mark who was a pupil of my father's at Bradford Grammar School. The Page is called Memories of Bradford and has some 60.000 members. Bradford is the city we moved to in 1964 or 1965. At the time the city was known for being the centre of the wool industry but was already in decline. I left in 1981 but my father continued to live there until 2005; a huge chunk of his life. I never liked Bradford as a city and couldn't wait to get away but today I only feel nostalgia for Bradford. I wrote a post on the page and was later inundated with welcoming messages and comments from people who knew my parents - amazing. My father had taught some of the members French and both my parents gave Russian lessons to some of the women who wrote that day. Then a woman called Paula T commented she had lived at number 7 Heaton Grove (we lived at number 6) and of course she was my neighbour. They were a Polish family who fled from WW2 and we got on famously with them. I was about 9 at the time and Paula a teenager and I remember her wearing one of those amazing 60's dancing dresses like something out of Westside Story. When they moved, Paula and her siblings gave my brother George and I their whole collection of Enid Blyton books which they had probably grown out of. We loved them and thanks to Paula became avid readers. But back to Bradford and my memories which were sparked by joining the page.
That day I was transported back to my childhood in the 60's and 70's in that dark industrial city which actually has its saving graces, such as The Alhambra, The Town Hall and St. George's Hall. Designed in the Venetian Gothic style by the local architects, Lockwood and Mason, the Town Hall was built between 1870 and 1873. My mother always admired it and I do too.
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| Bradford's magnificent Town Hall |
What I like best about Bradford is that it is in Yorkshire itself. If you go into the countryside, then you go to what they call "God's own country". It's so beautiful in the Dales and those lovely market towns such as Skipton, Ilkley or Harrogate. Two more of my favourite haunts are Haworth and Bolton Abbey. I was born in Cambridge but my formative years were spent in Yorkshire and that's where my heat lies.
Oh the memories of the 60's and 70's of our huge, rambling and untidy Victorian semi detached house with 4 floors and only one bathroom at 6 Heaton Grove which my parents crammed with University lodgers to pay off the mortgage. Some of the things I remember from my youth: the ice cream van, the milkman, the first yoghurts, my first mini skirt which my father destroyed with a pair of scissors, buying penny loaves at a bakery on Oak Lane, shopping for my uniforms at Brown and Muffs, jeans or denims coming into fashion, smoking in the toilets at school, cooking with lard, candy floss and toffee apples at the funfair at Lister Park, pocket money of 1 shilling a week, half a crowns, threepence, and other pre decimal coins, getting a whole pound note for my birthday, Sunday roasts, taking the bus everywhere because my old fashioned parents didn't drive, my school uniforms from Rossefield school (a very posh girls' junior school where most girls went on to be boarders and owned ponies) and later St. Joseph's College (a Catholic Grammar School for girls run by Irish nuns)Then of course what the box was like in those days. We had a black and white television with no remote and only two channels, the BBC and ITV and I would watch the news with my parents and programmes such as Coronation Street, Steptoe and Son, Dixon of Dock Green, Softly Softly, The Avengers, Fawlty Towers and of course Blue Peter when I was younger. Then there was underage drinking at the Mucky Duck, going to awful old swimming baths or to the Odeon cinema to see Charlie Chaplin and falling over laughing at Laurel and Hardy and later falling in love with Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music. I have to mention too Betty's in Bradford where it once had a tea shop, buying clothes in fashion at the time (bell bottoms, wedge shoes, mini, midi and maxi skirts) with my mother on Saturday mornings at C&A or fish and meat at Rawson Market before the first Morrisons supermarket ever was founded. I knew the family because they lived across the road from my friend Amanda and she used to babysit for Sir.Ken Morrison. I must also include fish and chips at The Paddock on Manningham Lane on Saturdays, the first curries at The Kashmir near the University and even the first Indian boy I ever saw in my class at my first school called St. Barnabas. There were our trips to London on steam trains which always scared me and then there was going with my father to Thomas Cook to buy train tickets to France or Spain and, of course, getting travellers' cheques, so needed when "abroad", nights out at the Mecca and not so nice memories of the Yorkshire Ripper. And finally our neighbours, the Tozceks, the Meesons, the Johnsons, the Wrights, the Rothschilds and the Forrester Patons. Douglas Forrester Paton who was Scottish and a QC and judge and his Danish wife who my mother befriended were very important to us and very kind. Then there were the Reimans whose son Julien who was a pupil of my father's died as a young teenager. So sad. I am trying to remember more names but they escape me. We had lovely neighbours at Heaton Grove which I remember very fondly.
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| Our old house at 6 Heaton Grove on Manningham Lane which we moved into in 1965 and where my father lived until 2005. We loved that old house. |
And I could go on and on. Oh what a great find that Facebook page about Bradford was. Thank you Mark for inviting me. You took me back to my youth which was mostly happy and without the frustrations of today.
Meanwhile at Oli's house, my grandchildren Elliot (6) and Juliet (4) were opening the number 1 of the Advent Calendars I had bought them. My memories in Bradford of Advent calendars were numbers which you opened to reveal just a Christmas picture not even a chocolate. These days they have become very sophisticated. I got Elliot one with "Super things" - all the rage for boys his age, and one of Frozen for Juliet. Oli sent me a video of them opening the calendars where she tries to explain they can only open one a day and not all at once which I suppose is what they wanted, hahaha. This is it.
Juliet and Elliot opening their Advent Calendars on 1st December
After such a packed day I slept at least 6 hours which seems to the norm these days and is better than 5 hours. Tuesday came and wasn't half as exciting as Monday. I read something in the papers online that morning that my father would never have read in The Telegraph and Argus or The Times in the 60's and 70's as the internet didn't exist. The Oxford Dictionary's word of the year is "rage bait" which is online content designed to provoke anger. Really. I tried to find the 1964 word of the year and even though there wasn't such a ranking, the trending words were: "switched on" and "grotty". I definitely remember using the word grotty.
I did work in the morning, mostly on my rental Admin stuff and only went out to the bank to get a replacement card - what a hassle.
Wednesday was the 3rd of December and Pippa's 12th birthday. How time has flown. I was never allowed a dog as a child but took my revenge when I married Eladio. We both love animals and have had loads of dogs and cats and even once bred Beagles. Today we just have little Pippa after Norah the naughty beagle and lovely Elsa the golden labrador, died in 2021, the same year as my father and our annus horribilis.
The only celebration was giving her a good piece of steak from my plate at lunch. So let me tell you what Pippa means to us. She is not just a dog; she is a member of this family and a very important one. She gives us unconditional love and I have proof. She hates water and swimming and once when we went into the sea in Asturias she was left on the beach and got so anxious at seeing us swimming away from her, that she got into the water, something she absolutely detests. Her eyes looked terrified and I know if we went to live in a hole she would come with us.All Pippa wants is to be near us, wherever we are. She lives like a queen, gets taken for a daily walk; well almost, has her teeth brushed once a day and is bathed once a week. On top of that she sleeps with Eladio and I and we wouldn't have it any other way. Here is little Pippa who I hope lives as long as possible because when she goes, something inside me will die. Happy birthday Pips, Pipina, Pipita, Pippa.
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| Pippa turned 12 this week |
In the afternoon I had a routine medical appointment with a dermatologist at the Quirón Hospital in Pozuelo. I am so grateful for cheap private health insurance in Spain. Would you believe I only pay just over 100 euros a month and have direct access to specialists? You don't have to go through your GP here. Public health is good too but it's much more select if you go private. I don't think Spaniards realise how good their health services are. It's not perfect but nearly. My father used the public health service and the way they treated him was remarkable.
On Thursday it rained and we turned back on our heels having started our walk and went home. Unlike the Brits, Spaniards do not go out in the rain unless it is to go shopping which is exactly what we did. We went to Mercadona for just a few things but got the large majority at Carrefour. I have their loyalty card and have become a huge fan. I had a voucher for over 180 euros accumulated from shopping there in the last two months. We blew it mostly on food for Christmas. I will be making Beef Wellington for the first time when my friend Julio comes for our annual dinner at home later this month.
Eladio was busy that day and every day this week, taking the kids to school in the morning since Miguel broke his arm. That day he went out 4 times in the car; in the morning to the school, then shopping, then at 5 to pick them up and again at 8 to pick Suzy up from the train station. I think he is a champion.
I had a stressful day on Friday, one of those days I wished Fátima was here. I had guests arriving for the bank holiday at our house in El Cuetu which has been mostly empty since October. The new cleaner, Andrea, hadn't been able to put on the central heating and I needed her to go back and call for us to explain. Finally she rang us at night and she managed to switch it on but the whole issue had me worried all day.
RTVE, Spain's national broadcaster, where both Olivia and Miguel work as a reporter and cameraman, respectively, announced that day that they were boycotting next year's Eurovision Contest because it includes Israel. You may or may not like Israel but boycotting the most famous singing contest in the world isn't going to help bring peace. As a child and teenager in Bradford, we would watch it as a family and I did the same with my family. I even went to the one in Finland once when I worked for Yoigo. These days I hate the songs and Spain's entries have been so bad, this boycott doesn't mean much to me but it does to its huge fans. It was big news in Spain. Other countries have followed suit. I think they are Ireland and Holland. On a final note, if Israel is not in Europe, why does it compete in the ESC I wonder?
The highlight of Thursday was my weekly Facetime call with Amanda. I will be with her on Tuesday and I can't wait. I am looking forward to being together, playing cards, parchis, going out shopping, for walks and for meals. It's going to be a wonderful break.
The day ended with Suzy's arrival but we hardly saw her as she only eats once a day at lunch and is often out with friends. Yesterday she went to have lunch with George, her new beau and today she has having lunch at Juli's, an old friend she has now reconnected with. God bless her.
Friday was 5th December and it's hard to believe it was the 6th anniversary of the passing away of my greatest friend and soul mate, Fátima Sánchez Martín. We were friends since she joined Motorola in 1991. We were sent together to a cycling race in Catalonia and in those few days became fastest friends. Fátima was divorced from an Italian when I met her. Her greatest wish was to become a mother and she did in amazing circumstances. She was bedridden for most of her pregnancy. It must have been the year I was unemployed because I was able to look after her. I used to make and take her her lunch everyday which we called "meals on wheels". Her greatest joy was giving birth to her daughter Fátima and her greatest fear was leaving her so young without a mother. Fátima joined me at Nokia in 2007 and was hired by our later great friend Julio who hired her when she was 9 months pregnant. We went on to become known as "the three musketeers" and went on trips together, out for lunches always having fun. Because it was fun to be with Fátima. She had studied to be a lawyer but worked as an engineer; something not many people could do. After her daughter was born they moved, with her mother, to where we live now.Thus in 2006 we became neighbours. She was my greatest friend and I miss her everyday, as do all those who loved her. Here is a photo of the two of us to mark this painful anniversary.
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| Fátima, forever in my heart |
The morning was quieter. I accompanied Eladio to Boadilla to his barber, Goyo, where he has been going probably since about 1988 when we moved to Boadilla. If he charges 10 euros a haircut now I wonder how much it was then?. Meanwhile, I went to the post office to post one of my calendars to my cousin in France and as I walked through the old streets, memories came flooding back of our first few years of living outside the centre of Madrid. We used to do the shopping at the indoor market before the proliferation of supermarkets. It was a good feeling to walk those streets again. I then decided to pop into Eladio's barber shop and watch him having his hair cut. I got a picture too; sly of me, hahaha.
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| Eladio at the barber on Friday |
Saturday 6th December was the Day of the Spanish Constitution of 1978 which may seem a long time ago but not as long as the Magna Carta. It's a holiday in Spain and also Independence Day in Finland. I always remember that from my years working for Nokia. We heard that around 6 million people were on the move this bank holiday, many of them visiting the capital. Of those 6 million, I am hosting 12 people, 8 here and 4 in Asturias.
Yesterday I made the filling for this year's Christmas "perushkis" - small Russian meat and rice pies which we all so love. Their real name is "pirozhki" but for some reason we always called them the former at home. If I did the filling, our Paraguyan home help, Tana, made them all with her own hands. Bless her. We froze most of them but couldn't resist having some for dinner last night.
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| Delicious Russian pirozhki meat pies for dinner last night with home made soup. |
I wrote most of today's blog yesterday afternoon while our 8 guests were all outside smoking on the kitchen patio. The weather was mild but not mild enough to make a barbecue which is what they did yesterday night. We had a quiet dinner of perushki and home made veg soup and were soon in our bedroom, probably at about 8.30. Pippa got her weekly bath last night and I managed on just 5 hours sleep.
Today is Sunday and I was up at 6.30 and am feeling dead beat. I just need one good night's sleep. It will be a quiet day and we have no plans at all.
Next week promises to be exciting with my trip to the UK on Tuesday. Suzy will be off again,this time to Castellón to stay with a friend which means Eladio and Pippa will be on their own. I hope they cope ok and look forward to seeing them when I get back.
That's all from me for this week. Hope you have enjoyed my memories of Bradford in the 60's and 70's.
Cheers Masha
