Another big party and a special performance and so to England. Good news for Olivia.

Our performance at the Yoigo midsummer party, amazing.

Hello everyone,

Here you have me writing on the London King’s Cross to Leeds train this sunny Sunday afternoon in England, going past what I would call “England’s green and pleasant land”.   Eladio is reading El País, the Spanish Sunday newspaper but my head is full of memories of the past, when I was a child and our countless journeys from Lincolnshire or Yorkshire to London, to that vibrant and exciting train station, King’s Cross. It means so much to me.  I remember as a child that the trains we would travel on were steam powered and as they came through dark tunnels into the station they would make a hideous noise and my Mother would cover my ears.  Even so they fascinated me and part of the travel bug I have in me was probably forged then.

But let me start from the beginning of the week before I tell you about our journey to England for this year’s summer holiday.

The week before leaving for England last Friday was one of the busiest of the year.  We were launching with Blackberry, so I had lots of meetings to finalise the press release and on Wednesday we had the annual Yoigo Summer party for employees and partners.  Some 240 people would be attending and everything had to be perfect.  My parties are not ordinary parties with just drinks and dinner; no, they carry my seal and are full of fun activities to surprise the guests and they need a lot of attention to detail and creativity.  As I left the house on Wednesday evening I reflected on how many parties I have been responsible for since I started in the PR business back in 1990 with Motorola.  Since then I must have organized over 200 events, big and small, in Spain and abroad.  Still the adrenaline is there before they start and the nerves never go away until they finish as you are always worried about potential problems.  I have learned over the years that only I usually see the faults, not the guests and there are always plenty of them.  I have also learned that you cannot always please everyone as I would like.  It’s just not possible.  And do I enjoy my own parties?  Not at all really, until they are nearing their end and I can relax and be happy that everything has gone ok. And always, always, I am very tired the next day.

This year’s party was supposed to have taken place in Ibiza but in the end we had to downsize it.  Therefore we maintained the Ibizan theme and everyone came dressed in white.  It was held at an estate by a lake on the road to Valencia, some 20km outside Madrid, the perfect setting with its wildlife and lovely views.  There were plenty of surprises the main one being a performance by our management team made up of 7 men and just 2 women.  We had prepared a mixture of songs (Imagine, Mama Mía, You’re in the Army Now, YMCA, …) with Yoigo lyrics and, dressed up as the original singers, we made an amazing video clip.  I couldn’t believe how I looked dressed up as the dark haired member of the Abba group. 

Me and Cristina doing our Mama Mia performance

We then performed live on stage, arriving in a hippy bus (Ibiza style) dressed in white tunics and coloured wigs and sang and danced in front of the video.  I couldn’t stop laughing when I saw the public laughing when they saw us representing these songs on the video.  We were the stars of the show.  The end result was fantastic although as I cannot dance for toffee and my voice is not what it was, I did not enjoy the rehearsals, unfortunately. 

Another highlight of the night was the “foam moment” when foam was sprayed out of big tubes, covering whoever wanted with the white wet substance by the outdoor discotheque.  This I decided was an activity for me.  I fell of course and got completely stained and wet but the experience was well worth it.  Here is the best moment of the night for me!

Me coming out of the foam at the Yoigo summer party, the highlight

You can see the full set of the photos from the party here and a short video here too.

So, yes another good party.  I wonder how many more I will be responsible for in the coming years!  The next day I was exhausted as usual but had to go to work for a media interview and then a meeting with the sales department about social media.  The latter went on for nearly 4 hours and my mind was not on it but on all the things I had to do before we left for England the next day.  One of these things was to go and buy a new camera as very stupidly I had left my lovely Canon Ixus 990 (or was it 970) at the party on the table I had dinner on.  I never remembered to go back for it and only thought about my camera the next day when of course it was too late. Thus I invested in a new one, another Canon but this time the Power Shot SX 230 HS.  So far I’m pleased (about its quality, not about losing my IxusL) but very stupidly left the charger at home and will now have to scour camera shops in Yorkshire in search of one. 

On Friday we were up at 6, ready to leave in a taxi just after 7.30 and arrive at Barajas airport on time to catch the 9.55 BA flight to London Heathrow.  We arrived pretty much on time and made our way into central London on the tube.  We bought the very useful Oyster card for travelling around and were soon at our stop, South Kensington.  We realized later it should have been the next one, Gloucester Road which turned out to be nearer to our hotel, the Bentley in Harrington Gardens. 

The Bentley Hotel where we stayed in South Kensington.

The Hotel and room were up to our expectations and we loved the quiet location in the “posh” borough of Kensington and Chelsea.  After all, Lady Diana did live round the corner from here! 

London is full of tourists like us, but mostly full of Asians, crow dressed ladies in their integral burkas, so foreign to me, yet fascinating and a far cry from my childhood visits to London. 

As soon as we had settled in and Eladio had had a little “siesta” (nap in England of course), we hit the streets eager to take in as much of monumental London as we could on foot that is.  We walked all along Gloucester Road and then turned right on Kensington Road, past the famous Great Albert Hall and then decided to walk into the world famous Hyde Park.  Here we watched families, mostly Asians, and school children and the mounted police all doing their own thing until we came to the Serpentine lake where people were seated on the very English striped deck chairs.

Eladio in Hyde Park

 From this gorgeous green park we walked towards Hyde Park corner.  It must have been past three and we were hungry so I  invited Eladio to try the food at one of the restaurants at Harrods nearby.  We went through the marvelous food hall and then up to floor 4 but unfortunately the buffet at the Georgian restaurant had just closed.  We could only get a table at the Terrace bar.  Here I decided on that very British tradition, “afternoon tea”.  It was served to me by a girl from the Spanish town of Burgos.  I was a little disappointed in the sandwiches, or with their fillings.  There was no beef or pork, but turkey instead.  I was explained that this was because of the demand from the Asian guests of which the magnificent dining room was full of. 

Afternoon tea at Harrods, a lovely thing to do in London

Once outside we took photos of the beautiful building that the world famous Harrods store is housed in, in Knightsbridge.  Amazing to think that it is no longer owned by the British, as other icons like Rolls Royce isn’t today either.

Eladio outside Harrods

From Knightsbridge we walked back to Hyde Park corner and across to the Wellington Arch.  From here we walked through the leafy Green Park until we reached our destination, Buckingham Palace. And the Queen was at home as the British flag was flying.  When I was a child there were the red coated and bear skinned guards outside the gates but today they are far away from photographers’ prying eyes.  Here we took photos from the Victoria memorial in the square in front of the palace which only a few weeks ago was packed with wedding enthusiasts.

Outside Buckingham Palace.  Notice the flag flying, it means the Queen is at home.

From Buckingham Palace, we continued our tourist trail up the Mall to Trafalgar Square.  It was full of noise created by Canada Day so we skipped on photos with the lions.  From here we walked up Whitehall hoping for a glimpse of Downing Street.  Again when I was a child you could go right up the front door of number 10 but that was before terrorism.  Today the entrance to the street is heavily guarded.

Downing Street is heavily guarded these days

 We walked past official buildings and ministries and past war memorials and statues of Englands greatest men like Monty, until we reached the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, otherwise known as the Palace of Westminster.

By the Houses of Parliament

From here we crossed the Thames by the fittingly called “Bridge Street” where the ugly but interesting new London Eye big wheel is situated.  I well remember the Nokia game phone, the ghastly N-Gage being launched here and how we showed the journalists the phones in the capsules of the contraption whilst sipping champagne and admiring the night views of London.  Today we were not going up.

By the London Eye, a bit of an eyesore really

We then walked back along Whitehall, to Trafalgar Square, the names I learned as a child when I played Monopoly with my brother George and Aunty Gloria.  From here the natural route to follow was to Piccadilly Circus and when reached this emblematic site, our feet just could not take any more walking on our live Monopoly board.  Thus we used our Oyster card again to take us “home” to our hotel near Gloucester Road.

Good old Piccadilly Circus, a bit like New York's Times Square

A nice hot whirlpool bath was waiting for us when we got back and our feet and bodies were very grateful.  Later on we got changed and made our way to a nearby Indian restaurant we had spotted in Gloucester Road called Little India.  It was small and the food was great.  We had what we always have: onion bhajis to share, tika masala for Eladio and lamb korma for me.  I also had some delicious pistachio Indian ice cream afterwards.

We heard the news later that Rafa Nadal had beaten England’s (or rather Scotland’s), great hope, Andrew Murray, in the semi finals at Wimbledon.  Wimbledon is the world’s greatest tennis grand slam and an institution in England.  Well done Rafa and good luck in today’s final against that most challenging rival, Djokovic. 

Saturday started for me with a coffee and the newspaper at a lovely little bakery called The Paul boulangerie on Gloucester Road.  At the kiosk I was able to buy El País for Eladio for him to read over breakfast at our hotel.

Gloucester Road became quite a familiar street during our stay.

There are 4 things you can do in London as a tourist; walk and see the monuments, shop on Oxford Street, Knightsbridge or Kensington High Street, go to a show or to the theatre or visit the museums.  We had done the walking, we didn’t have tickets for a show and Eladio was not interested in shopping so we decided on museums.  Our hotel was very near the famous Exhibition Road where you can find the Victorian and Albert Museum, the Natural History Museum and the Science Museum.  Amazingly they are all free. We chose the Natural History Museum as our first course.

The Natural History Museum, just as I remembered it.

 I had been there once many years ago as a child when my Aunty Gloria took us there and I have remembered the visit always, specially the dinosaurs at the entrance of this very unique building which at times reminds you of a cathedral.

Eladio in the entrance of the Natural History Museum with the famous big dinosaur

Eladio loved it, as did I, although I didn’t want to see the “creepie crawlies” or anything like them.  I was much more interested in the evolution of man, as was Eladio.  Of great protagonism at the museum was of course, the instigator of this theory, Sir Charles Darwin.

The giant dinosaur in the entrance of the museum which I remembered from my visit so long ago.

Charles Darwin, you can feel his presence everywhere in the museum

After nearly three hours in this fascinating museum it was time for some food, so we made our way to Harrods again, to the buffet at the Georgian Restaurant on the 4^th floor.  I remember this place from another Nokia trip to London and it was thanks to the director of the Mia magazine, Ketty Rico, that I got to know it.  I remembered the head waiter, Pepe, from Galicia and the old fashioned décor.  What was   not quite as good was   the food as some of the delicacies I had then were no longer there, such as fresh and shelled lobster.  We were served by yet another Spanish waiter (from Galicia he pointed out) and an Egyptian one.  The latter told us that Harrods was no longer owned by Mohamed Al Fayed but had been sold to a holding from Qatar and that the employees of Harrods cried when they found out. He told me that Mr. Al Fayed was extremely kind to them and also mentioned that he gave hand outs to both him and the Spanish waiter every month, on top of their salary.  I found that an interesting piece of news in general.  I never got to see the Diana monument,  unfortunately because Harrods is literally a maze.

Lunch at Harrods again was a delight

After lunch we walked back to our hotel via the long and famous Cromwell Road to our hotel.  Eladio remarked that the English had indeed dedicated an important street to the man from British history who killed its King,  Charles I.

After Eladio’s giant siesta, we ventured out again, this time to Kensington High Street and then to Kensington Gardens where we saw Princess Diana’s late home, Kensington Palace.  On 1^st July she would have been 50 and there were quite a few cards from anonymous people.  I felt sad for her.

Outside Kensington Palace two days after Lady Diana's 50th birthday

Afterwards we carried on walking in the park and went to see the so called Round Pond and then through the Flower Garden where there were many grey squirrels.  In England they are referred to as tree rats, whereas their red cousins in Spain are much prized.  They were being fed by some burka clad ladies who offered us some of their peanuts to feed the squirrels.  I tried to talk to them but only got as far as that they were from Qatar, always dressed like that and please, no, do not take any photos.  Thus I only got one from behind.  These integral burka clad ladies do indeed fascinate me and Hyde Park was full of them.

Just too many ladies in burkas for my liking in London. These ones were in Hyde Park

We then walked towards the Serpentine where we saw a man swimming in the filthy water and from there we walked to the Diana Memorial fountain.  It was nice to see children paddling in the water.  Princess Diana would have liked that I’m sure.  We walked back to Knightsbridge but this time took the tube to Gloucester Road as our feet literally could not carry us anymore.  Dinner was wonderful fish and chips at the local Stanhope Arms served this time by a Spanish waitress from Segovia.  She was in fact a graduate in journalism who was learning English but was happy to talk to us in Spanish.

The next morning, our last, we left our luggage in reception and decided to visit the other museums as our train wasn't leaving until 2 0'clock.  We were disappointed  with the Victoria and Albert museum. We which loved the magnificent building it is housed in was becaubut are not really into objets d’art or design or architecture or jewelry.  We had hoped to see the British Galleries but they were closed due to electrical problems.  Therefore we decided to leave and go and see the Science Museum where I did not have high expectations.  However I was very pleasantly surprised. It is fantastic with its exhibition of engines and space objects and the history of technology, cars and airplanes and all the objects that have developed through the years.  It was a truly wonderful find.

Eladio at the Science Museum this morning. 

But all too soon we had to leave and make our way back to our hotel, yes another long walk. We have walked so much in London that we have to leave some energy for our walks in Yorkshire.  We picked up our heavy luggage and made our way to the underground our destination being the famous King’s Cross railwaystation, another stop on the Monopoly board.

King's Cross today

Here we picked up our pre booked tickets and made our way to the station lobby.  Here I left Eladio with our luggage and ventured out to find some food for our journey.  I found some wonderful produce at Pret a Manger, a great English food chain you see all over the place these days.  Soon we were making our way to platform 7, just as I used to as a child with all the excitement that getting on a train to Yorkshire still has for me.  We got onto coach B, the “quiet coach” and made ourselves comfortable and then began our marvelous meal. I started writing my blog with my laptop, fittingly on my lap and very soon we were going past Grantham and then Doncaster.  When we reached Wakefield I closed my pc as just 15 minutes or so later we would be arriving in Leeds.

In Leeds we changed trains and boarded the train going to Blackpool where we would get off some 15 minutes later at the Bradford Interchange.  Here we caught a taxi which took us to Nelson Street to the Europcar office where we picked up our little previously booked Hyundai.  Very soon we were on the Keighley Road driving in the direction of Gargrave.  Under an hour later we arrived in Gargrave, a little village just 4 miles after Skipton and on the Kendal road towards the Lake District.  Soon we found the cottage, The Arbour, where we had booked to stay for 15 nights and were greeted by the friendly couple, Hugh and Janet who have us an excellent welcome.  The cottage is clean and meets our expectations.  The owners, Hugh and Janet, had stocked us up with tea and coffee, strawberries, tomatoes, milk, butter and biscuits in the very well appointed little cottage.  As soon as we had unpacked we went next door to the co-op to buy some food for dinner and very soon we were enjoying a meal of carrot soup, cold meats, prawns and salad. Dessert was the lovely strawberries and some meringues and cream we got from the co-op. 

Outside our cottage in Gargrave, The Arbour. It is lovely.

We very much look forward to our stay here.  Waiting for us was an envelope with free tickets for the Great Yorkshire Show I had booked in advance.  As we are “overseas visitors” we are entitled to free tickets and a free parking space. But more about that when we visit the famous agricultural show next week.

Meanwhile back home we have some good news.  Olivia is doing work practice with the Spanish TVE 24hours news programme as part of her master’s degree. Well last week she got a call from the head of programmes offering her a 3 month paid internship with the TVE morning programme (las mañanas de la 1).  Hopefully she will be able to stay on afterwards.  She will combine both jobs and now has a foot firmly in the door of the Spanish TVE broadcaster.  We are so pleased for her.  Who knows, one day she may make a name for herself with Spanish TV.  I certainly hope so.  Well done Oli, we are very proud of you.

And now my friends I have come to the end of this week’s bumper packed blog post.  I will have a whole load more to write about next Sunday, but meanwhile I plan to enjoy the week thoroughly.  This is a true trip down memory lane and I look forward to seeing all the familiar places near here and enjoy being in England, something I seem to need more and more as I grow older.

I hope you too have a great week, that’s all for now

Masha

PS You can see the full set of photos of our weekend in London here.

Remember, remember the 5th of November and so to London with a heavy heart, but young again. Good bits and bad and other stuff, of course.

St. Silas Church in Kentish Town where the funeral took place.
Hi again,

This week was mostly taken up with my trip to London for dear Sanya’s funeral and it's going to be long as there is an awful lot to write about. Sanya was my sister-in-law, the wife of my only and late brother George. She was found dead in her flat on 14th October and I just had to be there for her.

Monday was a bit of a let down as my 2 best friends forgot their lunch appointment with me. I was already a bit down so that didn’t help.

The trip from Tuesday to Thursday was going to be difficult and I was going on my own but I was going back to my country which I don’t do very often so there were going to be good bits about this trip too.

I was going to stay at my niece Sara’s flat round the corner from Marble Arch – what a great location – and she was there to welcome me with open arms as I arrived on Tuesday evening. She showed me round her lovely little pad which she shares with Sibil, her extrovert and lively German Turkish flatmate who works for G+J in London but apparently does most of it at parties!! These two girls brought me back my youth and for two days I felt a bit like them at times, independent and with London at my feet.

Well it is a great city which I have never lived in and only ever pass through but if you think about it, it’s the capital of the world in very many ways, not least because of its melting pot population. I was therefore determined to make the best of this difficult trip and most of that was thanks to Sarita.

On the first night I took Sara out to dinner and as I didn't know the area she showed me a street (James Street) with restaurants from at least 10 countries. We settled for a Turkish place she had been to before called Grand Bazaar where the wine was awful but the food was superb. It was very cosy and decorated with Turkish lamps and quite authentic.
Sara and I outside the Grand Bazaar restaurant.
Sanya’s funeral was to take place the next day, an important day in English life, the 5th November being Guy Fawkes Day or Bonfire night as it is often called, but it also turned out to be an important day in world history; the day the first black man was elected President of the United States. Yes, Barack Hussein Obama had won the elections the day before and London was brimming with the news.

The funeral was taking place at 11.30 at St. Silas Church in Kentish Town. Of course I used public transport and picked up an Oyster Card, recommended by my cost conscious niece for discount travelling in London. It was raining and I wanted to get to the church early to talk to Father G but I also had to find some flowers. I was not in luck as I left Chalk Farm Underground station and went from one Asian-run off licence to another. Some had flowers but none were good enough for Sanya. So I walked down the burka lined street off Haverstock Hill and finally found a Sainsbury’s where I got an ok only looking bunch of flowers. There was no way you could remove the label though so they had to be placed the wrong side up at Church and you couldn’t even see them. I felt so bad about that!!

I arrived at the church which was a typical early 20th century structure and rather grim looking at least from the outside. And there on the entrance was a poster announcing Sanya’s funeral. Father G certainly had certainly made a great effort.
Notice on the church door
And there he was inside the church as I walked in, laying the finishing touches on all the preparations for a full blown Church of England funeral. And full blown it was and very traditional too but I'm not too sure about the C of E part. St. Silas is officially C of E but is very obviously High Church judging by many of the things I saw and heard, not least the vocabulary as they talked about “mass” rather than “service” and “priest” or “Father” rather than “Vicar”. What was also rather telling was the inclusion of the very Catholic prayer, “Hail Mary” which I recognised from my Catholic school days. Don't think I mind at all, which I don't, these are just curious observations.

Father G was a treat to meet. He must be in his 60’s and is a dedicated clergyman who makes you feel very welcome. I can see what attracted Sanya to him and am extremely grateful for how he cared for her when she was alive and how he went all out to put on a very good funeral for her.

He wears the traditional vestments, including the old fashioned round clergy hat, yet he is also a man of his times. I mean he uses e-mail and looks very practical.

The funeral seemed old fashioned but was very special. It was also somber and solemn, very intense but not dismal like the Orthodox funerals for my Mother and my Brother. Father G was definitely dressed for the occasion with his black and silver funeral vestments. The same material was used to cover the coffin which was brought in by 4 professional pall bearers! Father G had printed a small order of the day for us all to follow which was another sign of how well he had prepared the funeral.

The small sprinkling of attendants emphasised the church’s big size. On one side were a few people from the congregation, including “Win”, the lady church warden who had been Sanya’s friend and “Lucas”, a “spaced out” and ungroomed middle aged bloke who I knew to be Sanya’s friend too. He told me he was her “new partner” and I felt terribly sorry for him.

On the other side sat Sanya’s step family. I sat next to her step mother, Mira, a good looking Bosnian woman who lives in London and her son and Sanya’s step brother, Mladen who lives in Zagreb but frequently visited Sanya in London. He told me strickenly how he had tried to contact her at the end of September unsuccessfully. They were joined by 4 of Mira’s Bosnian friends who seemed very kind ladies.

The funeral included communion and here I had an inner debate with myself. I hadn’t taken communion for about 30 years and finally decided I should do so for Sanya and for me, I suppose. I made the faux pas of going up to the altar as I used to when I went to church in England and the famous Brandon Jackson was my vicar. Embarrassedly I had to walk down again to the first pew to receive Holy Communion. Suffice it to say it was an emotional moment.

The coffin was sprinkled with holy water and with incense and then left the church in a cortege carried by the pall bearers with Father G in front. We all followed behind and outside there was a big black funeral car for the coffin and two similar big black limousines to carry us to the cemetery in East Finchley. Father G and the pall bearers walked ahead of the cortege and the cars followed at a snails pace for a few hundred yards until they got in and the engines were turned on and the cortege drove off to cemetery which all seemed quite Dickensian to me or so I thought.

I went in the car with Win and Lucas and Lucas’ care nurse and we went past opulent London houses in places like Bishop’s Avenue and the contrast was bizarre. It was very much a repeat experience of when we took my Brother George’s coffin to the cemetery because Sanya was to be buried in the plot next to him.

When we arrived I saw David. David was Sanya and George’s friend and had been my brother’s best man at their wedding. I hadn’t seen him at the funeral and was worried he didn’t know about it. When I used to visit Sanya I would also visit David and the 3 of us would spend time together. I used to take them flowers, chocolates and cigarettes and I always knew I had made their day. David is a man with many problems, mental and other, including gambling and the poor chap is very unkempt. Every time I see him I feel like taking him to the baths and then buying him a new set of clothes. He needs both desperately but neither seem possible in the life he leads, that is, if you can call it a life! I was very pleased to see him as I am extremely fond of him.

The cemetery threw me emotionally. Seeing the tombstone on my brother’s grave made me break down. I didn’t listen to the priest’s words, just kept looking at my brother’s name in gold letters, “George Lloyd” and the inscription, “In loving memory of George Lloyd, who died on 15th May 2001, aged 46, beloved husband of Sanja”. Amazingly Sanya was also 46 on the day she died as Mladin pointed out. We threw white roses and earth on her coffin and Mladin and I put some of the flowers on George’s grave too.
George and Sanya's graves at East Finchley Cemetery

Sadly we all left and went back to the church in the same cortege. This time David came with me. I must admit that between him and Lucas the sleek and luxurious jaguar began to reek of unclean bodily skin which I was actually to put up with for the next few hours.
David Waring
We couldn’t part without a “send off” which is a very typical way to end funerals in England. So I suggested a cup of tea at the Church Hall and both Father G and Win thought that was a good idea. Being in that church hall, making the tea with Win and laying the table took me back to my days of Sunday school and Guides when I was a child in England. Making the tea for Sanya’s Bosnian step family and David who kept asking them all to repeat their foreign names was a funny experience. We all sat round a small square Sunday school table for children in the middle of a big room next to the church with children’s drawings on the wall and we all had English tea and biscuits and tried to make polite conversation.

When the family left, Win, David and I stayed on chatting. David was in obvious need of company and asked me how long I had. I said, “for you David, one hour”. In the end I think I was there for nearly 3 during which we talked about George, about Sanya, about God and about mundane things in life. There I promised to be David’s friend and to write to both him and Win. When we were leaving, he said: “I don’t just want a Christmas card, I want a 3 or 4 page letter”. Now I have to keep to my promise!
Dear Win, the Church Warden and Sanya's friend.
David took me all the way back to Marble Arch, he was such a gentleman. I felt sad to leave him. He actually told me, “you cheer me up” which was very special to hear. Dear David, I will write to you and I won’t forget you, I promise.

As I parted with a heavy heart from David at Marble Arch, I came back to my world and decidedly needed some comforting activity. So what better than an hour or so in Marks and Spencers before Sarita came back from work?

Marks and Spencers certainly brought me back to my world of consumer goods and earthly things and I acquired a lovely winter coat and an assortment of Mark’s best underwear, creams and potions.

Sara and I decided we wanted an Indian meal this time and after a bit of a search, came across a great little place called Rajdoot restaurant in Paddington Street. The onion bajis, the chicken tikka masala and lamb korma were superb. We walked home through typical London streets and laughed at a sign outside on some gardens which boasted having “the best loo of the year”!

Once at home, we both connected to our computers and Sara spoke to her parents, José Antonio (Eladio’s beloved brother) and Dolores on Skype. 

I wasn’t leaving for Madrid until Thursday afternoon so decided to visit a museum, instead of spending money, before I left. I thought of going to the Victoria and Albert Museum or the Natural History and Natural Science museums but suddenly remembered that I had a debt with my Mother to visit

The Wallace Collection. My Mother had lived in London in the 40’s when she came to England as a war refugee and before she was married to my Father, of course. She always told me the Wallace Collection was her favourite museum. It turned out to be a stone’s throw from Sarita’s flat. My Mother’s judgement was not wrong. The Wallace Collection is supposedly “the finest collection of art ever assembled by one family. Five generations of collectors, four Marquesses of Hertford and Sir Richard Wallace, each made their special contribution". The collection is housed in the family home of Hertford House, a magnificent building in itself, in Manchester Place. The “collection” comprises artefacts of all sorts; furniture and paintings. Amazingly they include Velazquez’s, Murillo’s, Titians as well as a portrait made world famous by a chocolate company, the Laughing Cavailer by Hals.
Hertford House, the home of the Wallace Collection.

Too soon my time was up and I had to go back to the flat to pick up my things and take my suitcase and laptop down the steep British stairs to the street and so by foot to Park Lane to catch the number 73 bus to Victoria Station. There I cashed in my Oyster card and made a quick foray into Smith’s to get some chocolates for my Father and some very British Christmas cards.

As I made my way through the station to the Gatwick Express platform I went past the omnipresent Poppy Appeal stall. In England in the month of November poppies are sold everywhere to make money for the British Legion which looks after army families and are worn in rememberance of the fallen in the "Great War" which is actually the First World War. It was so quaint, I just had to take a picture. The 4 gentlemen were very representative and I gave them my remaining British coins and got 5 paper poppies in exchange to take back home for the family. If all of England were wearing poppies, my Father and I and my family were not to be less. Of course, no one in Spain will understand but that is to be expected.
The Poppy Appeal stand at Victoria Station
Eladio was at the airport to greet me and bring me home to my real world. Home for me is always “home sweet home” wherever I have been so it was good to be back.

I think I am still under the impression of Sanya’s death and the experience of the funeral and all it entailed. I will need some time to feel normal again. Family and work life of course will contribute to that happening.

Home again, was another story of a problem car. The old Lancia had broken down, so now from 4 cars we are down to 2 which is a bit of a problem when you live far out like we do. This week coming up will be challenging.

Friday was spent catching up with my work and also meeting my friend Elena for our monthly chat. This time she was cheering me up rather than her!

Tonight we will be going out to dinner with ex Motorola friends, Susana and Gustavo and Marian and her new partner. No doubt we will talk about the news of Motorola Spain laying off 30% of its workforce this last week as that includes some of our friends. We are going to a new place called Jiménez in Majadahonda. But more about that in my next post.

Cheers
Masha

An emotional trip, England again, St, Joseph’s College reunion, my childhood revisited.

Hello again

I am writing from my desk at home in Madrid now that it is all over. It has been an intensely emotional trip and as we did so many things and saw so many people, this post is going to be quite extensive.

Amanda picked me up and I was delighted to encounter excellent weather in England with temperatures in their mid 20’s. Ironically it was raining in Spain and did so all through my stay in England. Who said, the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain?

We drove to their lovely English style country house in Surrey and immediately got out our laptops. I did have work to do but must admit I am a bit of an addict and cannot stand to have one e-mail unread!

Amanda's house
Soon we had to go and fetch Jake. Jake is Amanda’s youngest son and the only “child” living at home now. Cordelia, his older sister, is studying music in London and Andy’s kids are also away; Jonathan in his final year at University and Jane at boarding school. So the house was a bit empty. Jake is wonderful; funny, sweet, loving and probably charismatic. Right now he is a proper teenager as you can see from the picture he allowed me to take outside his prestigious school. Love you Jake.

After a long day on the plane and waiting around, a walk was in order and Amanda took me on a lovely one. The English countryside was looking its best with flowers in bloom, everything green and the sun shining. There was quite a lot of fauna around too which had me snapping my camera away at horses and rabbits all along the route.

Amanda on the walk
Andy was back after a very long day and very cheekily for us, he made dinner; well grilled the great M+S steaks on the barbecue. What a great dinner, all washed down by a bit too much wine I’m afraid and which I was to pay for badly the next day.

Andy
Yes the next day, the day of our journey to the North for our school reunion, I woke up with a headache which got worse as the day went on and which at one stage I thought might mean cancelling the Centenary dinner; but it didn’t. We arrived in Haworth, that picturesque dark Yorkshire village of the Brontë sister fame and made our way to the Weaver's Restaurant where we had a lunch reservation. My headache was so bad I thought I couldn’t eat but funnily enough a bit of food actually helped.

We then checked into Ashmount House which really impressed us. This had been the village doctors’ house before and the names of the rooms were called by the previous inhabitants. The house, a 5 star guest house, met up to our expectations. It was so Brontë period and very well kept as you can see from the pictures. All bedrooms had four poster beds, the house was spotless with superb furniture and the garden which was very well kept was full of spring flowers and even had hens whose eggs were served at breakfast!! Breakfast of course, was top class, as were the dining rooms.

Ashmount Guest House

My four poster bed which I had to enjoy alone

The dining room at Ashmount House
We had a couple of hours to spare so decided to have a quick look around the village and take a long walk to further clear my headache.

Haworth has not changed at all and never has in all the time I have known it. It seems to have stopped in time since the Brontë sisters died. It has many many tourists visiting; many from Japan and the USA but remains unspoilt. One thing has changed though and that is obviously the age of mortality. When the Brontë sisters lived there in the early 1800’s the average age of mortality was 29, worse even then the worst London slums at the time!!!

The main street in Haworth
We walked around the steep and narrow cobbled streets but concentrated our visit on the Parish Church where the Brontë sisters’ father was the Parson – funnily enough he outlived all his children and died in his 80’s – and on the streets around the The Bronte Parsonage Museum which was, of course, their home.

The Church

The Brontë Parsonage
We ventured behind the Parsonage and into the countryside outside the village, past sheep riddled fields and through kissing gates and onto the moor, the one we would have liked to think was the one from Wuthering Heights but which actually wasn’t. And in our minds was what it must have been like for Anne, Charlotte and Emily when they lived there.

With our minds relaxed and my headache diminishing we made our way back to our lovely rooms to get ready for our much looked forward to Centenary Grand Dinner for St. Joseph’s College past pupils (girls catholic school in Bradford) taking place at the The Bankfield Hotel in Bingley nearby and starting at the unearthly English time of 7pm!

There we were to meet up with 2 friends from school with whom we were once very close and whom I hadn’t seen for 18 years and whom Amanda hadn’t seen since we left school; Brenda Maher and Ellen Byrn. Brenda and I were very close at school. She was my neighbour who lived in Redburn Drive and we often used to study together at her house –well actually we spent more time having butter fights or playing the Ouija board!!

The dinner was attended by about 140 people including staff from the past too. The oldest past pupil was 90! We sat on tables of our years and ours was 1975 the year we left. On our table were other “girls” from our year: Mary Drake, Geraldine Appleby, Jane McEvoy, Catherine Breen and Beverley Chivers.

Our table, Maureen O'Connell, Mary Drake, Geraldine Appleby, Beverley Chivers, Catherine Breen.

Ellen Byrne, Amanda (Sharon)Leonard, Brenda Maher and Jane McEvoy
The person we most wanted to meet was Miss Fair, our Geography teacher who later went on to become the headmistress. She was a real blue stocking but with a lot of character and quite serious and strict. Today she must be 80. We remember pearls from her when she came back from a field trip to Chile: “It’s rather chilly in here girls” was one which we sniggered at. Another was when the M62 was built and which she described as “a marvellous feat of engineering”. Worse was to poor Ellen Byrn: “Why are you doing A’ Levels? I thought you were more interested in your eye shadow! The latter spurred Ellen on in life as after her children were born she decided to take a degree and take her revenge on Miss Fair. Today she is a successful infant school teacher.

I was devastated that Miss Fair didn’t remember me at first (she did later when I reminded her that my Mother had taught Russian at the school and my Father had been a teacher at BGS); not even for being naughty which I was. In contrast she gushed at Amanda who had been to Oxford. I would like to remember her as a sort of Miss Jean Brodie but I’m afraid she was nothing like that, not particularly friendly either.

Group photo with Miss Fair

Amanda and I, an official photo taken at the dinner
We also met Miss Jackson who had taken us to Paris when we were 14, Father McCarthy, our Chaplain, and the eternal Mrs. Plunkett Jones who is part of the school furniture but very much alive. I remember as a child causing havoc. It had snowed heavily and I spread the rumour that we were having the day off which we weren’t. So the girls started leaving, walking up the steep hill of Cunliffe Road. Mrs. Plunkett Jones desperately called out to them: “Girls come back, girls come back”. But they never did. I wonder if she ever knew it had been me?

The next day we were up early (well I was up at 7 instead of 8 as I hadn’t changed the Spanish time, silly me!!) to enjoy our English breakfast and to visit the Brontë museum before going off to the School Open day for past pupils which was to start at noon.

I must have visited the Brontë parsonage a dozen times in my life but it always impresses me: the Father’s study, the room where the girls wrote, the kitchen where Emily propped up her German verb book whilst kneading bread, the children’s bedrooms and their clothes. I can remember it vividly. It’s a haunting sort of place. We also visited the museum shop and I bought some lovely memorabilia, such as the famous picture painted by their brother Branwell. It will grace my walls at home and I know it won’t look tacky. I also bought a copy of the first book written by Charlotte, The Professor and look forward to reading it after my Father.

The Brontë sisters, the only known painting of them together, Anne, Charlotte and Emily
Soon it was time to set off to Bradford, our childhood home, that very northern, ugly and depressed, industrial city in England which I always hated as a child and never wanted to live in. Bradford has become even more Asian than when I remembered it and even then 1 out of 3 in a population of 300.000 were from Pakistan. Today the ratio must be higher.

Ugly Bradford

Asian Bradford!
I was born in Cambridge and lived in Lincolnshire from parents who were not from Yorkshire either (that’s for another story as you probably know the origins of my Mother, a Russian aristocrat born in Rome but a citizen of the world, and my Father, that very English gentleman born in Tamworth but another citizen of the world). We moved to Bradford when I was 7 because my Father got a job as a teacher of languages (Russian, German and French) at Bradford Grammar School and they bought a marvellous house at 6 Heaton Grove, where many a party was held when I was a teenager as some of my friends from those times will remember.

So I have mixed feelings about Bradford. I always had problems with my weight and I felt I never really fit in. I didn’t have the local accent and I didn’t want it as I felt I was only passing through. I was not a good student. I misbehaved abominably at school and only just got through by the skin of my teeth. I woke up in the 6th form when I suddenly realised I had to pull my finger out as I had to go to University. There was not other option in my life. Of course, there were happy times and some of those were at St. Joseph’s College.

Amanda and I had been back on a short visit in 1999 which helped to jog our memory a bit. Not much had changed from the outside. The whole event was very well organised I must say and had a very happy feeling to it.

Arriving at the school, 33 years later!

Entering - Amanda and I flanked by 2 1st year pupils.
A funny little girl selling prayer books. I didn't buy one!
The place was crawling with middle aged and old women all with huge smiles on their faces. Pupils from the 1st year and the 6th form were on hand to help us around and seeing them reminded us of ourselves at that age.

Registration!

The 3 Kappa girls (Amanda, me, Brenda) in our original 1 Kappa classroom.
There was a programme to follow. However we were forever waylaid talking to people and chancing off to find our 1 kappa form or sneaking into the out of bounds teachers’ common room. We even took photos in the loos where we used to smoke!. We bumped into Sister Moya who must now be in her 70’s. Also as we seemed to take 5 photos on each occasion our programme was slowed down enormously.

With Sister Moya in the 4th form corridor.
One of the most interesting finds on our route was a room with the school photo archives next to the 6th from library. Here we found ourselves in 6th form group photos. I promptly took a picture of one of myself in 1974.

My class in 1974. I suppose you can guess who I am.
And it was in the 6th form library that we actually found some other girls who were in that same group photo, Andrea Longstaff and Anne Marie McDermott. Someone had the great idea of having an official photo taken of the girls from our year present that day and this is the result.

The "girls" from our year (1969-1975) in the official photo.
We also managed to visit the dining room where we had a snack and remembered the awful school dinners including some classics like mashed potatoes or tapioca!. But soon it was time for the memorial mass. When Amanda and I were at school we never went because we weren’t Catholic. We were actually going to skip the memorial mass as we had to rush off but our friends persuaded us to stay and I am very glad we did. It was a great end to the day to be gathered in Our Lady’s Hall where all the big events of our school years took place, to see the choir again (although ours in the famous O’Rourke days was much better) and to hear Father McCarthy’s moving sermon about our teenage years.

Suddenly it was 5 0’clock and time to go. Brenda, Amanda, Ellen and I just had to visit a couple of haunts, including the 6th form common room, before we left and to sit on the bench outside the 4th form corridor just as we used to in the breaks. Wow, that was 33 years ago. And time has indeed passed.

Bradford was not over for me yet. That day we also had to visit our old neighbours and then have dinner at Amanda’s brother and sister-in-law’s house, Simon and Gill who live in Sowerby Bridge.

The next stop was 6 Heaton Grove where I took a quick photo of what had been our home since the mid 60’s until 2004. I knew my Father would love to see it. We parked outside number 6 but walked into number 5 to see the Wrights who have lived there far longer than us. Margaritte, the Mother is 100 this year and Susan her daughter is now 74. But neither of them look their age, more sort of eternal. It was a lovely reunion with just enough time to catch up on the gossip, all mostly related to their Pakistani neighbours and to Mr. Nawaz the man who bought our house and whom Susan “hates” so much!

6 Heaton Grove, my childhood home.

Margaritte and Susan, our lifelong neighbours at Heaton Grove.
From the Writes we made our way to Morrison's to get some wine to take to Simon's. It was here I found my wallet was missing. There were a few minutes of panic until I realised I had left it at Susan’s. So we had to go back of course making us even later. But it was well worth the effort. Simon and Gill’s house is lovely; it’s a very tastefully decorated cottage near Halifax with a huge garden and great view of the Yorkshire countryside. Simon is the perfect cook who made a great dinner including a prawn starter, duck a l’orange and chocolate mousse. I mustn’t forget to add he actually made the delicious bread rolls. I was so impressed that I took a picture of them.

After dinner and before I fell asleep in front of my hosts (terribly sorry Simon and Gill), Becky the oldest daughter who is going to read English at Nottingham University this year – my old University - introduced me to a great poem. We had been talking about films and somehow got on to talking about 4 weddings and a funeral which I haven’t seen and they highly recommend. Apparently in this film a poem by Wystan Hugh Auden called Funeral Blues is referred to and which they love. So Becky read it out and I immediately fell in love with it too. And here it is if you want to read it which I recommend you do: Funeral Blues. I just love how it starts: Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dogs from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum, Bring out the coffin, let them mourners come.
Becky reading the poem.
We had to make a short evening of it as we were both physically and emotionally pretty tired after the day’s events and the evening before so we got an earlier night in at our lovely guest house in Haworth.

Sunday was ours for the taking and after a good breakfast and packing, we were off to Bolton Abbey in glorious May weather. Bolton Abbey was a favourite childhood haunt and is a beautiful Yorkshire spot by the River Wharfe. It is here where the the famous Monk’s stepping stones are in lush green meadows with picture box Friesian cows.


The stepping stones
From here we made our way to the Strid wood that very ominous but beautiful part of the river Wharfe which has claimed so many lives in its underwater caves. Anyone who falls in never gets out and many a silly boy or girl try to jump across it at a narrow point which is very possible to do but extremely dangerous because of the slippery moss covered rocks. My brother jumped across it on various occasions and my Mother was in constant fear of the place for what I understand now to be a very good reason.

The Strid my Mother hated so much. I felt guilty being there.
However the place is one of the most beautiful in the world with heavenly flora to contemplate on the walk including blankets of blue bells at this time of year.

People were bathing and making barbecues but we had a date with one of our favourite places to eat in Yorkshire Betty’s café in Ilkley, one of the lovelier towns in West Yorkshire and very near the Dales.


This is how they serve tea at Betty's
And here I indulged in one of those things I miss most about England, fish and chips. And don’t Betty’s make just the best!

And that was the end of our marvellous trip to Yorkshire, down memory lane and to revisit our childhood and see our school and meet up with old faces. It was time to leave. We left Yorkshire with our hearts very much touched, as they still are as I write.

Home we went to Surrey to briefly see Andy and Jake before going to bed, tired but content.

Monday brought with it a day in London. Oh, for a day in London! What pleasure. We did do some work in the morning. I mean, I did have to sort out my e-mails and make a few calls. But as soon as the decks were clear, Amanda and I were off by train to Waterloo. Here we briefly met up with darling Cordelia who lives nearby. She looked enchanting.

Mother and daughter at Waterloo.
Lunch was at some marvellous place in Kensington High Street. This time we indulged in sea food and white wine; just the thing to put us in to the spirit of shopping in Marks and Spencers. There are many shops in England but it is my favourite. Here I filled my basket with underwear, swimwear, cosmetics and t-shirts for us all. Then a quick visit to Boots, that other great shop I miss so much and finally to Whittards to buy Oli a special mug for her breakfast coffee.

Happy outside M+S in Kensington High Street.
The evening wasn’t planned but it ended up with dinner in Covent Garden with Amanda, Andy and Cord. It was so nice to have dinner with them in London.

And so soon, there I was packing to leave. Packing was a bit of a hitch as with all my purchases including 3 big Yorkshire prints I had bought at Bolton Abbey, there was no way everything was going to fit in my suitcase. So we had to drive to Guilford to buy a cheap hold all. In the end I was carrying 35 kgs and had to pay for 10 kgs excess which Easyjet charge at 6 pounds per kilo!!! Wow did my M+S shopping turn out to be expensive.

Me laughing over my packing; mission impossible!
Travelling back was ok but not as exciting as travelling out. The nicest thing was having Eladio meet me off the plane in Madrid.

Then I was home and opening my huge hold all full of presents for all the family, including an English tweed cap for my Father and 2 copies of the Bradford Telegraph and Argus. It felt like Christmas!

Now it’s all over but it was great. I have already written to the other “girls” and sent them some photos. Some have replied and I think that soon, quite soon, there maybe a girly reunion, maybe in Manchester. Look out for that on this blog.

Cheers till next time
Masha