Spanish properties are frequently, maybe even usually, fitted with rejas over the windows. Rejas are a bit like decorative prison bars over windows but they are designed to keep low-life out rather than you in. The two readily accessible “ground floor” windows at Casa Libelule came complete with rejas already fitted. However, there is at least one other window, the kitchen window from which we escaped having famously locked ourselves in, that is technically, though not perhaps readily, accessible to a moderately determined person. Franco was moderately determined to get out and the subsequently summoned locksmith was moderately determined to get in .. and did so.
A neighbour’s version of Casa Libelule, having already been the target of a burglary, has had additional rejas fitted over their similarly positioned kitchen window. They’ve also had locking metal gates fitted over their lower balcony sliding doors, which was, we think, the actual point of entry. Our lower balcony is something over 2 metres above the ground but, given two low-life scum, one giving the other a leg up, it seems like a point of weakness. As we’ve already proved our kitchen window to be a point of weakness, we decided to get a quote for an additional set of rejas and gates for the balcony. Consequently, I found myself waiting in for Antonio to arrive at 3:30 PM to measure up for his metalwork.
Antonio Metalworker was pretty punctual – extremely punctual for a workman, especially a Spanish one. I was also happy to note that Antonio Metalworker, unlike Bozo Plumber, actually possessed a tape measure and, furthermore, appeared to know how to extend it and use it. He also made drawings upon which to note his measurements. I am hopeful, therefore, that our eventual gates will actually fit the balcony doors whereas our shower screen never stood a friggin’ chance of fitting our shower tray.
Antonio had no English. Combined with my extremely rudimentary Spanish – I was able to use one of the numbers I know, catorce [14, I hope], when getting into a date discussion [at least, I think it was a date discussion] – we seemed to part with some sort of agreement. Whether we both parted with a similar agreement remains to be seen.
I was now able to go out to play in the sunshine. I was still keen to try and snag the Violet Dropwings (Trithemis annulata) that I’d been after when I so deftly threw my camera ensemble to the floor a couple of days ago. Apart from anything else, I wanted to see if it really did still work. Francine and I set off for the fateful road I chosen to throw the camera down onto.
We wandered along the road beside what Jalón amusingly refers to as a river – most of the time this river does not actual flow but is a meagre collection of standing pools. It’s more of a natural storm drain for the mountains at the head of the valley, really. Anyway, we did find our quarry and I’m delighted to report that, not only did my battered and bruised camera work, but it performed no further somersaults onto the hard surface intended more for feet and car tyres than for expensive precision equipment. Not only did we find our delightfully gaudy pink Violet Dropwings but a Blue Emperor also cooperated by hanging up in a few reeds across one of the remaining pools of water. Here they are. Aren’t nature’s colours wonderful?
Now, if I can just work out the Spanish, I may approach the Ayuntamiento [Town Hall] to see if they might consider covering all Jalon’s roads, footpaths and tracks in some form of protective foam covering.