Little Britain, Will the Dragon Slayer Be Revealed.

Whilst sitting in doctors waiting room, trying to figure out if I was in fact in the right queue, as one side are waiting to see the nurse, and the other side to see the doctor, only as in most things in Spain, there are no signs, so you really have to take pot luck. I usually try to see if anyone is wearing a sling or a bandage or an eye patch at least, then that’s usually a sign which queue I should join. Today I was lucky as an English nurse was on duty, highly unusual.

I got talking to a middle aged man, who had moved to Spain over 12 months ago, he asked if hubby and me fancied a game of darts in the tennis club, the following Thursday. He had bought one of the new houses, in the small village not too far from where I lived. ‘Little Britain’, me and hubby called it. Why not we thought, although we did stress, we would just call for a drink, as darts are definitely not my forte, unless someone was looking to be impaled, by a loose flying dart, as targets are just not me. Darts in my hands seem to turn into rubber and bounce. I don’t care how big the dart board is.

Little Britain, or Wisteria Lane, as I call it, was initially a small farm, it was granted permission, to change the original ‘Rustica’ land surrounding the farm, or ‘cortijo’, as they are called here, into an ‘urbanization’ and building soon began. Initially building was slow, with only three plots completed, and the rest of the land, left swampy, piles of bricks all over, but no building in progress. We soon discovered the original builders had gone bust, the recession, as with many other European countries had hit them hard. Unfortunately, one of our neighbors, a local kitchen contractor, who was responsible for installing some of the kitchens, prior to the slump, had not been paid, and he himself, is now facing financial hardship.

Building has now resumed, although I understand various different builders are involved. Also houses are only been built once a deposit has been received, and contracts signed. To be perfectly honest, I cannot understand why anyone, would want to come live their dream, in Spain, which offers, stunning scenery, beautiful views, lashings of fresh air and tranquility only to be surrounded by other British people ,why not move to Milton Keynes? The space between the houses, is minimal, you could shake hands with the man next door, and not leave your front door. There would be no point in trying to swing your cat; it would be slapped like a cartoon character against the neighbor’s front porch, no room to swing that even.

The first indication that another fellow countryman has joined the community, is the proverbial satellite dish, strategically pitched on the roof, god forbid anyone would miss Eastenders. Over here the dish is the size as a small island and quite impossible to hide. Then the St Georges flag is draped from the roof terrace, which fortunately are now not so abundant, after the disastrous show in the World cup.

My German neighbors just cannot understand it, ‘How do English people live’, they say, which I have no answer for, as I cannot understand it either. Anyway, Thursday came and off we went to the tennis club, we expected to see a couple of people, but were amazed to see the car park full of GB registered cars, the club was packed, all English , throwing darts. It made me wonder just how many times in the UK, these affluent, middle aged ex pats had ever been into the tap room, of their local Brewers Fare, let alone actually joined a darts team.

In fairness, they did all seem to be enjoying themselves, but it is in my opinion inevitable, that this new found comradely will break down, and the rifts appear and someone will offend someone else etc and then the dragon slayer will surface. People will complain that the English papers, are too expensive, and why don’t you get the Sunday supplements, despite the paper been printed in Spain, or why do people talk Spanish and not English , why does everywhere close at 2pm, or the classic, ‘It’s too hot’, we will see .

I will be keeping a close eye on this one, watch this space.

Mum's Passing.

It has been a while since I have had a chance to write anything on here, as I have been back in the U.K, sorting out the funeral arrangements for my mum.

Sadly my mum passed away on 10th July. She was 84, and very independent. She was found by my brother, sat in her favorite chair, in the conservatory, and had suffered a heart attack, just after finishing her breakfast

The police came, and asked if she had been planning to go abroad recently, and if she held a fire arms certificate, I did not realize that these are the types of questions asked when someone passes, but I suppose they are necessary. I think mum would have found them funny as well.

I was quite overwhelmed, by a feeling of loss, and I admit relief as well, I had always been worried, that mum may have a fall, or suffer a stroke, and be in pain until someone found her, I would have hated that. I was concerned for her welfare, as almost two years ago she had a serious fire, whilst lighting an aromatherapy oil candle, the oil spilt from the holder, and dripped onto an electric radio that was on, sparks followed , and the blinds caught fire, quickly spreading to the rest of the house. She was seen by a neighbor, trying to rescue some cushions, but her feet had caught fire, to say she was lucky not to have tripped and burned to death then, was an understatement.

Hubby & I spent four months, following the fire in the U.K, clearing through the debris, and sorting out the Insurance Company, who was excellent, the house was virtually rebuilt, and the contents replaced. We did not let mum go in the house until it was finished, and when she did, she said it was like winning the lottery, or appearing on one of those makeover programs. She was especially pleased with her new bed, as at 82 was the only new bed she ever had, she had spent many years trying to dodge a spring, that kept sticking in her back on the old one. She also loved her 42 inch plasma TV, as she could now see the picture, as before she had bought some glasses from an ad in one of the Sunday papers, she resembled Cosmo Smallpiece in them, but she assured me they helped.

The worst thing at the moment, is not been able to talk to mum, she was politics mad, which used to drive me insane, especially as she would not listen to anyone else’s opinion, or point of view.

I miss not been able to ask her what she thought of the latest series of big brother, which she, unlike me, loved. ‘I like to see the way the people connect with each other’ she used to say, ‘why don’t you watch The Apprentice’, I would say, ‘Oh no it’s far too competitive for me’, which again I could never understand, as she even watched big brother first thing in the morning when they were all asleep.

I miss all the catalogues, she got through the post, all aimed at the older lady, and charging a fortune for their goods, but they always sent her a free gift, she loved that, thinking she had got one over on them, getting something for nothing, or so she thought. And my poor hubby who had to put all the plastic stuff she bought together as best he could, bearing in mind that 9 times out of 10, a crucial piece would be missing.

I miss the talks about family, past & present, and the way she loved all her great grandchildren, and how much she was looking forward to my brother Stephen becoming a grandparent for the first time. She would have been very proud of that.

My own son, made me laugh, when he reflected on his grandma, telling me how he had called up to her house unexpectedly, and found her dancing away to Bob Marley singing Jamming. Priceless.

Still I guess life goes on, mums’ passing has made me realize, just how quickly time does fly, and to treasure the moments you have with your loved ones, it is as they say not a rehearsal.

On a lighter note, at the funeral parlor, I happened to mentioned, that I was disappointed not to have received my Dad’s ashes when he passed away over 9 years ago. “Just a minute”, she said and trotted off to the back of the premises, which were used jointly as a joiners shop, and in she came carrying an urn, clearly marked with my Dad’s name on it. We couldn’t believe it. I can just imagine, my Dad saying about bloody time. Typical he had to wait for mum to be ready, no change there.

So we laid both mum and Dad to rest, in the rose garden, overlooking the sea, close to the bandstand. A perfectly beautiful resting place, for such a wonderful couple.

R.I.P Mum & Dad & Thank you for everything.