Yes, I know, we’re about 8 hours drive away from Cantabria on the northern Spanish coast but I simply couldn’t let that sort of pun pass me by. At least we’re in Spain.

Prologue

When we leapt into this little Spanish venture, we’d heard reasonable reports about the local Spanish workmen. Thus, we came over looking forward to supporting the locals rather than using expat British labour. I must say that you seem to be able to get the Spanish folks around to do things quite swiftly, typically within a week, which is usually far from the case with British workmen back in the UK where you’re lucky to get them inside of three weeks. Here’s a few brushes with the locals.

The Electrician’s Tale

Our new house came with a bunch of wires sticking out of the walls and ceilings at various strategic positions where lights and heating controllers were supposed to go. Not wishing to mess with foreign electrics, the one of the first tradesman we needed was an electrician. Our friendly local estate agent [no, still don’t get it] knew one – coincidentally the same one that lived opposite our dog-owning friends and who was known to them. We were happy to go with him. He first provided a quote to supply and fit a few LED lights, plus fit all our remaining purchases once we’d found ones that we liked.

He came to fit our initial purchases which included two kitchen ceiling lights and three hall lights. All were recessed units. The hall lights went swimmingly as he bored neat recess holes in the plasterboard ceiling and ran the cables. The kitchen was another story. Unknown to our electrician, the kitchen ceiling was solid, not a plasterboard job. His neat hole boring drill attachment effectively  bounced off the ceiling [a few muttered Spanish curses, and he began drilling several holes with a regular drill bit to make one large hole. Various bits of ceiling fell away that would have ben better staying in place. Eventually we had lights recessed into two rather messy holes. He said he’d fill them when he returned.

A few days ago, he did return and began fitting our new purchases: three outside lights, three more ceiling lights (not recessed!), two ceiling fans with lights, two mirrors, two lights designed to sit atop the mirrors, two bathroom shelves to go under said mirrors.

Did Señor Electrician put any dustsheets or other protective coverings down? No. He did unpack stuff on our newly oiled oak dining table,though, which now has a couple of minor scratches on its surface. He did move furniture beneath lighting fitments to the side but still did not use any dust sheets, so drill dust tends to get on bedding etc.

My biggest surprise came when he finally got to the mirrors and mirror lights. The clip on jobs seem quite popular here at the moment but he didn’t realize that these light units were to sit atop the mirrors. I clued him in and left him to do the mirror and light together, which he was keen to do and which is why I had driven about buying them that very day. Now, faced with a mirror that was to go on the wall over a hand basin, most people, I would have thought, would have tried their level best to centre the mirror over the basin. Nor Sñr. Electrician; our downstairs bathroom mirror is about 3cms too far right – still over the basin but not centred. Mercifully, perhaps more by fortune than design, our upstairs mirror did end up centred over its basin.

Part way through the work, lunch cropped up and they popped off for a break, during which time Francine and I checked out the existing completed lights. The lounge/dining room ceiling units failed to come on, as did the upper balcony light, probably on the same circuit being just outside the lounge/dining area. After lunch, once everything was fitted, Sñr. Electrician was about to wander off when we told him three lights didn’t work. He hadn’t tested anything – just assumed they’d work. Much head scratching, removing of junction box covers and wire testing. Eventually, the problem was discovered and fixed but wouldn’t you think they’d test what they’d done?

Oh, and having scattered brick dust about with drills, is there any attempt to clean up afterwards? No.

The Plumber’s Tale

We had begun our visit with hot water and shower fitments over both the bath (upstairs) and shower tray (downstairs) but no shower screens on either. We’d been using our shower room as a wet room and simply mopping up afterwards as water spattered everywhere. Great fun! Sñr. Plumber had been retained to supply and fit shower screens and we were looking forward to the luxury of a shower without the need to mop the floor afterwards.

The downstairs shower tray is in the corner and a screen with two sliding doors and a corner opening was being fitted. I left the professional to his work and soon heard the comforting sound of drilling. He eventually moved upstairs and put a hinged shower screen over the side of the bath.

At this point words fail me; verbal description of what had resulted with the corner screens in the downstairs shower room would be difficult and, when I saw what had been done, my jaw fell open but no words were emitted – there were none that were adequate. I’ll just let a hopefully clear, albeit mobile phone photograph featuring my own hand speak for me. See what’s going on? Is the aluminium screen seated on the left shower tray edge and sealed with silicone, as it should be? Oh no, it is suspended in mid air, about a centimetre inboard of the left edge, across the gap between the back and front shower tray edges. Stunning!

Now, unsurprisingly I got the Sñr. Plumber back. is explanation is that the screen and tray are standard sizes but that our tray was not sitting tight up against the right edge wall but was a few centimetres further left, thus the standard shower screen was not quite wide enough. There was, indeed, a marble filler strip spacing the right edge between shower tray and wall. OK, fine, but, having noticed that the screen wasn’t going to fit, why proceed to fit the darn thing in the wrong goddam place? Why not just bloody stop until you’ve got the correct spacer?

It actually gets worse. I popped in to our managing friendly estate agent [no, still wrong] and drew a diagram of what had happened. His eyebrows went up. He called the so-called plumber and said he’d be round tomorrow between 10:00 and 11:00 AM. He wasn’t. I called the estate agent who said a part had been ordered adn they’d let me know when it turned up. “He hasn’t been round”, I said, “how did he know”. He turn up later and it was obvious that they’d known all along and, once I’d raised the issue, had reacted. My suspicion is that they wondered if the Englishman would notice the cock-up. Cock-up? They did this wittingly.

What’s going to happen now is that the required aluminium spacer will (hopefully) turn up and the screen will me moved to where it should have been in the first place. This will leave behind a set of holes through tiles that were drilled where they should never have been drilled in the first place and which will, at the very least, need filling. What a complete f*****g tosser!

And this is a supposedly professional plumber?

Oh, and no, they didn’t put any dust sheets down and they didn’t vacuum up after themselves. Compared to the previous Spanish joke, however, that pales into insignificance.

The saving grace is that I haven’t yet paid any money for this so-called workmanship.

Epilogue

So, given the above, I can only assume that my standards are a lot different form those of some of my contacts. My reaction to Spanish workmanship varies from disappointed to downright disgusted and maddened. Common denominators so far seem to be that these bozos do not cover anything up to begin with and do not clean up afterwards. If my father, who was in the building trade, had not cleaned up after himself he’d have been shot.

In contrast with the Spanish, the expat British Mr Telitec with the well developed upper torso, when he came to fit our Wi-Fi connection, was fastidious about accuracy – spirit levels on the cabling – and paid attention to detail – he used only slow drilling through the wall so as not to blow out the exterior surface of the wall when boring a hole for the cabling. The Spanish bunch appear to be slapdash and careless, maybe even deceitful, with no eye for detail or accuracy.

I have re-evaluated my approach to Spanish workmen. Indeed, I have re-evaluated my approach to DIY. I was always a relatively keen DIY enthusiast, given training from my father, but I had become lazy, preferring to pay “a professional”. Now I have returned to the opinion that:

if you want a job done right, do it yourself.

How very sad!

From our little hacienda just up the valley from Jalón, there are three possible ways into the village (or it may be a small town) itself. The primary route is via a road bridge over the Riu Xaló [Jalón river]. The bridge is a single track road bridge, which causes a few minor traffic holdups though we’ve never witness any severe problems with the necessary alternating traffic flow. However, the bridge is now out of commission for the duration of a project to widen it to allow 2-way traffic. Work is supposed to be finished by the end of March but we won’t be holding our breath.

A little further downstream of the Riu Xaló is the preferred alternative route via a ford through the river. Normally here, the river bed looks very dry, with just a few remaining pools of standing water. I think there is a small flow because it reappears at some distance downstream beyond the valley, but what little water there is apparently flows underground. When the river flow increases slightly, there is a pipe under the ford’s cobbled surface, which normally copes with the increased flow.  This morning, as I set off to get some bathroom mirrors [yes, more shopping], the pipe was not coping and a certain amount of water was flowing over the cobbled surface of the ford. Well, it is, after all, a ford, so why not? The rainwater from last night’s downpours had clearly been draining off the mountains in the upper valley and had reached the river, increasing the flow. I drove off to complete my thrill-packed shopping trip.

When I returned, the ford had been closed to traffic. Both the main route and the preferred alternative route into town were now out of commission. This ford closure may seem somewhat over cautious, it is a ford, after all, and fords are normally covered in water for the traffic to drive through, aren’t they? Well, yes, they are, but here’s the thing. During extreme weather events, cars have been known to be swept off this particular ford by the flood of water and carried downstream. If some twat takes it upon themselves to drive through the ford while it’s dangerously inundated and when there is a safer alternative, they have themselves to blame, perhaps. Now, though, with the closure of the safer main route and a council-arranged diversion through the ford, maybe the local authorities would be liable if someone ended up floating off downstream towards Lliber? Or maybe it was just over cautious. 😉

In any event, all the traffic needing to pass through Jalón in either direction, was now forced to use the one remaining route through, a small, rather tortuous side road running along the northern bank of the river and eventually over another single track bridge. There are several sections of this last remaining route that are too narrow for two cars to pass each other, consequently there are several bottlenecks. With no traffic flow control in place, you may be able to imagine the difficulties that resulted.

We didn’t quite hit gridlock but it wouldn’t have taken much, I think.

In my admittedly rather limited trips to Spain, I’ve never experienced anything like this. We’ve been coming here for two or three weeks at a time for the last seven years but I’d have to describe the weather that we’ve endured for the last eight or nine days as unusual. For over a week the skies have resembled those of an English winter, being a solid grey overcast with frequent, occasionally heavy spells of rain. It got worse today. Today had me dipping into my smart phone translation package – isn’t modern technology wonderful? – wondering what the Spanish words were for what we were suffering.

Our education began in a restrained manner with a little modest lluvia [rain]. We’ve seen plenty of this over the last week so no surprise there, though we had not previously bothered to look up the word.

The skies gradually got darker and heavy, black nubes [clouds] covered our part of the valley. The nubes began to be accompanied by some sound effects in the form of several rumbles of trueno [thunder]. After a few more rumbles, the lighting department, not wishing to be left out, got in on the act with some swift flashes of relámpago [lightning].

As the tormenta [storm] increased in ferocity, so did the rain. Soon, the rain became solid in nature and lumps of it began bouncing back up off our external window sills. We were being treated to some granizo [hail].

Casa Libélule is on the back/high row of our development There is a run of five blocks, each one of four or five houses, the roofs of which act as a catchment area for the rear pathway.onto which they spill their collected rain/hail. The only way down for the water and ice mixture to reach it’s point of lowest potential energy is down the flights of steps beside Casa. That flight of steps had now turned into something resembling a Welsh mountain cascada [waterfall]. The hail stones washed down and were collected in white piles at various strategic points. They remained for some time, not melting. Please forgive the crappy phone camera picture but hailstones were bouncing inside when I opened the window to take it.

Eventually the storm abated and we were left with just the hailstone debris.

Shortly afterwards, a good looking young English man who, judging by his upper torso development, spends a lot of time in the gym (and, I’d guess, women :shock:), arrived and proceeded to install the radio dish and router for our eagerly awaited Internet access. He did a very neat job, even using a spirit level to make sure the cable running between the dish and door frame was horizontal. After a little drilling we were online. At least, we were for a few minutes. The storm was cloaking the hillside across the opposite side of the valley, where the Internet service mast is located, and we soon lost our newly established contact with the outside world.

A reboot of the router fixed our connection problems, comme d’habitude/como siempre.

How educational weather can be.

Back in the UK our bed is what we Brits amusingly call a king-size, 5’ wide by 6’ 6” long. Acting on advice, we bought English bedding with us including fitted bottom sheets for a UK king-size bed. Having got here and started buying our beds in Spain, we discovered that the mattresses do not share our exact sizes. The net result, after buying a 150cms by 190cms beds, is that out fitted bottom sheets do not actually fit, they are about an inch too wide and about three inches too long. Consequently, they tend to ruck up during the night. [No comments, please.] We decided to pop into the bed shop to get some euro fitted sheets of the appropriate size for our mattress.

Imagine my surprise when we were told that the fitted sheets all allowed for the euro king-size mattresses, i.e. were 200cms long – just a tad over 6’ 6”. “Can we not get a fitted sheet made with the 190cms length in mind?”, we enquired. No, apparently not.

What on earth is the purpose of a fitted sheet that doesn’t fit, I wonder? On yet another philosophical note, if this can be called philosophical: is a fitted sheet made to different dimensions actually fitted at all? I would suggest that it isn’t; it would more correctly be called an unfitted sheet. Actually, it’s little better than a mattress bag. We’ve already got a couple of mattress bags that we brought out here with us.

There was available a jersey-type material unfitted sheet/mattress bag that was supposedly slightly stretchy and better at taking up the slack, so it should wrinkle less. That was the theory, anyway. In the startling absence of any better solution, we decided to try one. If it doesn’t work, we can always cut it up for rags with which to oil our collection of oak furniture, next time it needs it. 😀

The spending continues. This time we’ve purchased a set of two towel rails and towel ring for our shower room together with a floor-standing cabinet for Francine’s hair potions and the like. This little lot came from Aitana, again. Incredibly, they delivered it this very evening and for free. The cabinet, though, came ready assembled so there was nothing to keep me occupied during the evening’s thrashing downpour. Nothing, that is, except for drilling towel rail holes through bathroom wall tiles that were harder than concrete.

Different weather in the valley.

Friends more experienced than us at living here have often mentioned the varying weather from valley to valley. If the weather is pants in the Jalón valley, try popping over the hills into the next one; it may be different. Today we experienced this localized weather effect.

The Jalón valley had a promising dawn; the mountain tops on the opposite side of the valley from us were once again visible after having been obscured for two days and there were sizable patches of blue. Out towards the coast still glowered, though. We drove over the hills behind us and headed towards Dénia with its interesting lighting shop in search of our last electrical fitments, two lights for the bathrooms. As soon as we crossed the high ground and descended into the next valley, the dark skies looked decidedly threatening.

An attack of sanity hit Francine in the lighting shop. There are some interesting “bathroom lighting solutions” available in the form of LED bar lights designed to clip on the top of mirrors. They range typically from 70€ to 100€ each and look quite stylish. On the verge of saying “sod it, let’s have them”, Francine spotted a notice on the box stating that the LEDs in these things could not be replaced. So, these stylish little “lighting solutions” are essentially 70€ to 100€ light bulbs – if/when they fail, throw them away and buy 70€ to 100€ replacements. In a fit of rational behaviour, we went for two 15€ clip-on fitments into which we could screw replaceable LED bulbs.

Rain began as we headed back with our new purchases. We climbed up the pass into our valley, descended and turned the corner at Alcalalí and there before us was Casa bathed in sunshine. Spirits lifted.

The critters spirits had lifted, too. After a couple of days of crap, I imagine some of the locals were getting a bit peckish. The Red Valerian on the hillside behind Casa was once again attracting the nectar feeders. There was a constant buzz of bees. On the larger side, two Painted Lady (Vanessa cardui) butterflies were flitting about, one of which posed very advantageously for me. I did manage to snag a Hummingbird Hawkmoth (Macroglossum stellatarum), too, though it might’ve chosen to hover briefly in front of a background without two white diagonal streaks. Never happy, some photographers. 😉

The evening remained pleasant and, after darkness fell, I gazed from our balcony into the valley and noticed that a chirping sound of crickets was drifting up from the fields beneath. Now there’s a sound that evokes summer – soon, perhaps.

“Drip, drip, drip little April showers …”

Actually, it’s March, still, and it’s more like March downpours than showers. Yes, we awoke once again to the sound of the rain which has now been with us for over 24 hours. The mountains on the opposite side of our valley are completely obscured, the valley floor is just about visible and Jalón is there if you are prepared to strain your eyes peering through the murk. Oops, spoke too soon – not only Jalón but the valley floor just disappeared completely. Actually, half the houses below us in the urbanization disappeared as well. We are in the clouds.

Another day of solid rain is in prospect and here I am with no remaining construction projects to keep me amused. On the bright side, though, some of the shops should be open today. Oh joy, more shopping! I say some of the shops because we’ve been told that some businesses are likely to take an extra day off to span the single day from St. Joseph’s Day, yesterday, to the weekend, making a four day break.

We bought me another construction distraction – a small side table. It’s another of the Royal Oak range from JYSK and is called a taburete, which actually translates as stool rather than table. IMHO, it makes a poor stool but an excellent small side table that can sit between our two sofas for wine glasses, brandy glasses and the like. If you really wanted to sober up, I’m sure it could also hold cups of coffee quite well, too. Unfortunately, it was a very simple assembly job that lasted only about 20 minutes, requiring just the four legs to be bolted into place.

Francine amused herself oiling some more of our already-assembled furniture. I had little choice but to start rubbing off and buffing up the pieces that she’d oiled yesterday.

Spain can be very tiring.

OK, 17 down. We can’t afford any more bad weather ‘cos we’re running out of space for additional furniture.

There have often been times at our favourite dog-sitting house down in the Jalón valley that we’ve stared westwards up the valley and watched the mountain/hill tops being obscured by a threatening set of gloomy low clouds. This morning waking up in Casa Libélule, our perspective was very different; we were, ourselves, now up the valley and half way up one of those mountains whose head had been obscured by those gloomy low clouds. We could hardly see the valley floor at our feet, far less our favourite dog-sitting house nor even, indeed, Jalón itself. The weather forecasters had been predicting a day or so of rain for some time. It was supposed to turn up yesterday but it would appear its progress slowed and it looks as though it took longer to get here. It was certainly here now.

Also unknown to us, today is St. Joseph’s Day, celebrated in the Valencia region, and all the shops are closed. Happily, entirely by luck rather than by planning, we had bought food for today yesterday. Also fortunately, since the weather was crap and the shops were closed, we had some jobs to keep us amused indoors.

I began by checking my glued and clamped TV unit repair. All appeared well so I finished that off before opening the last two of my original 16 cardboard boxes to assemble our last piece of oak furniture, a small 2-door sideboard unit. I discovered that I had left the most complex assembly job ‘til last, more by luck than judgement; the instruction booklet ran to 17 pages. Unbounded joy! The booklet wittily informed me that it should take an hour. Oh how I laughed. With multiple shapes of assembly hardware components (screws, drawer runners, handles etc) consecutively lettered from A to V, not having been packed in bagged sets and not actually themselves being lettered, it took me almost an hour to sort the components and to verify that I had been supplied all the correct bits. I must now have been a seasoned professional, however, and assembly went smoothly, albeit rather slowly. More haste, less speed is definitely the approach to take with these things. I think it actually took me three hours to build but it looked splendid when finished. It’s a good job that Francine and I still love the style of this stuff because we’ve got a considerable amount of it.

Speaking of Francine, while I was building the sideboard she volunteered to set about oiling some of the pieces that were already assembled. There are some chipboard components in the furniture but the things like the legs and table tops are solid oak – well, solid spliced-together oak, anyway. In JYSK, whilst paying for our order and arranging for delivery, we had been regaled to treat the wood with a special oil. This should be done before the furniture was first used. The oil should be applied, quite lavishly, with a mildly abrasive sponge and allowed to soak in, before removing any excess with kitchen towel prior to buffing up with a clean cotton cloth. Francine started with our downstairs items of furniture, massaging oil into our escritorio, filing cabinet and two of the six chairs (two that would be used as office chairs when not needed as dining chairs). We decided not to oil our bookcase, largely because we didn’t want pages of books getting oily. Oh, the fact that it would be a bugger of a job might also have had a bearing. 🙂

All this took until about 2:00 PM.

The weather has not changed and is still utter crap. If it would stop raining, I could get rid of the second mountain of discarded cardboard that has been steadily building up at one end of our dining area. However, the weather shows no sign of improvement as yet.

16 down, zero to go. Yay!

Why did we buy a house in Spain?

One of the challenges we’d begun to organize on Spanish Venture Part 1 was to get a quote for fitting shower screens, one to our upstairs/guest bathroom and another to our downstairs/main shower room. Upon our return this time, the plumber who’d provided the quote was anxious to get the job done, as were we – we’ve hitherto been showering in a shower tray with no screens around it, in effect using the bathroom as a wet room, which means a sizeable mopping up job afterwards. As promised, the plumber turned up between 8:00 AM and 8:30 AM and set about his work.

Flushed with the success of fixing my first dragonfly to the wall of Casa Libélule, I started today by fixing another one. This one had been a Christmas present purchased in Oxford by Francine. Since it’s eyes do not meet on top of its head, I decided it most resembled a Gomphus and christened this one Gomphus oxfordiensis. G. oxfordiensis proved a little more difficult to secure, requiring two holes to be drilled instead of one. I wanted to position him high up, too, which meant borrowing a pair of steps from a friend on our urbanization. He’s up, though, and looks very good, albeit less colourful than his friend.

As the plumber banged away downstairs, the doorbell rang again, this time announcing the arrival of a very exciting visitor. We were now going to be surveyed for Internet access. Yay! How cut off one now feels when disconnected from the Internet. The service offered by this company is a radio connection to a mast across the valley so we need no landline into the house. By English standards the service is slow but we are neither trying to stream videos nor to indulge in any Internet gaming, both of which would require a faster connection than the basic 2Mb on offer. If it proves less than adequate, we can upgrade to 4Mb. We’ve also abandoned the idea of a PAYG installation. This is largely because the installation charge of PAYG is 299 whereas the installation charge for an 18-month contract is on 69 and the monthly charges are also halved. so, 18 months full time connection will cost less than, say, 4 months of PAYG over an 18-month period. Neither will we have to mess about getting the connection (de)activated. Bottom line, we should be installed and connected on Tuesday next week. Exciting stuff!

After the Internet site survey and while the plumber continued drilling and banging fitting our main shower screen down below, I set about opening another two cardboard boxes from my 16-box 3D jigsaw to assemble the TV unit, even though we are not, as yet anticipating having a TV. Let’s face it, the TV programmes in England are crap. Over here in Spain, you can get hooked in to the same English TV which is still crap and, to make matters worse, is an hour later, Spain being an hour ahead of UK time.

Long story short: all was going well with my TV unit until I realized that I’d assembled a vital piece the wrong way around – an unfinished raw edge of chipboard was showing at the front. Unfortunately, the piece was symmetrical and would go in equally well either way around. I muttered something unrepeatable and began taking it apart again, the act of which split a couple of flaps of chipboard away. I muttered something else unrepeatable, this time slightly louder, and paused for breath and to take stock. Francine was out shopping [now there’s a surprise] and I needed the car to go and get some clamps so I could glue everything back together again. Eventually Francine turned up and I high-tailed it down to Tot Util, a.k.a. Totties, for a few cheap clamps. [Aside: coincidentally, there happens to be a very appealing young piece of totty in Totties, and she speaks very good English.] The unit is now glued and essentially finished. Must concentrate harder.

14 down, 2 to go.

A beautiful morning dawned, cool but sunny. There’s an interesting phenomenon we’ve noticed on other visits to our friends’ house which is also half way up the mountain; fire smoke rises so far above the vineyards and then spreads out in a layer You don’t see it from down on the valley floor, you have to be in an elevated situation. This morning a fire was putting up smoke and it was forming a layer for Francine to capture, still clad in her dressing gown. We really are being spoilt being the only ones here.

In the same way that major construction works celebrate their start by breaking the ground, I thought I should bite the bullet and drill my hole in a Spanish wall. I’m familiar with English constructions methods and am comfortable drilling holes in English walls but Spanish construction is something new; they use blocks with large holes in them. I could imagine drilling into nothingness looking for a fixing. A friend over here, living full time in the same urbanization had kindly lent me a collection of wall plugs and screws. The very same friend was the reason I needed to drill this first hole in the first place. Being aware of my dragonfly obsession, he had purchased for Casa Libélule, a magnificent ornamental dragonfly to put up on a wall.  Anatomically accurate it isn’t – it seems to have eight wings though that isn’t obvious from the picture. So, to note both its curious wing configuration and also its purchaser, I have dubbed it Octodoptera murdochii. As you can see, my first Spanish drilling was successful.

Flushed with success, I went on to attack our partially finished filling cabinet – partially finished because a couple of screw holes proved a little too big for the screws provided. Before resorting to messy resin mixtures, I tried a trimmed plastic wall plug. Strewth, it worked! Once the drawer runners were securely fixed, our badly behaved cabinet was soon finished. Downstairs with it.

Enough work, time for some play. Today is March 17th. Along with a few other friends in the valley, the folks we dog-sit for and the purchaser of Octodoptera murdochii, we had been invited to lunch by a Scottish couple, living over here full time, and instructed to dress in either green, orange or white. Fortunately I had packed a distressingly bright green fleece. Now here was what I can only describe as complete international confusion: an English car load (Francine volunteered to drive) descended upon a Scottish household in Spain to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Go figure, as they say in America! There was another couple invited to the gathering, the man of which proved to be the Irish connection.  Mind you, his wife was Italian, despite sounding like a Londoner and nothing at all like an Italian. Mind you, the Irishman didn’t sound in the vaguest bit Irish. I felt more than a little relieved that the two Scotsmen at least sounded Scottish, even if one of them was dressed as a Leprechaun. Well done, chaps! [Inset your own joke beginning, “An Englishman, Irishman and a Scotsman went into a bar …”] The green beer was an inventive twist, I thought. 😀

And I got confused on the ferry because of “welcome to Malta” messages and Norwegian Google search screens. Sheesh!

Monday: bed delivery day. Today we should get our own bed (as opposed to the guest room bed that we’ve been using hitherto). Since the bed delivery men had my mobile phone number, I was tasked with waiting at home for the call announcing that they were on their way. Meantime Francine – yes, you guessed it – would go shopping again. This arrangement suited me fine; anything that got me a day without dragged around shops was fine by me.

Actually, I did have an early morning flirtation with the shops, to a local building supply hardware store called “Tot Util”, known affectionately as Totty’s. I was in search of sandpaper to smooth down my glued dead table, a protective sheet to stand the oak furniture pieces on whilst oiling them, some drill bits and a solution to my drawer cabinet’s problem of screw holes that are too big. I returned with a bag full of goodies from Totty’s whose assistant happily spoke enough English to be able to understand my needs and help me.

Francine hit the shops. Her only task that I was particularly interested in was her trip to Moraira to visit Telitec to see if we could arrange for some Internet access. Telitec offers a Pay-As-You-Go Wi-Fi service by radio dish, no landline required, that sounded ideal for occasional visitors to Spain. Phone ‘em up when you arrive at Alicante airport, or wherever, and get them to switch the service on. Tell ‘em when to stop it as you leave and just pay for when you’re here. 40€ for four weeks gets a 2Mb service, 50€ for four weeks gets a 4Mb service – both plus IVA [VAT], of course. The only alternative would be paying for a full 12 months which, whilst cheaper per month, would still mean paying for the whole year. The PAYG approach seemed most appropriate.

Francine returned with a booking on Wednesday morning for a site survey to make sure that a signal existed, plus a Spanish PAYG mobile telephone. also from Telitec. There were a few other items in her bag of goodies but they were incidental, a thermometer for the balcony, for example. Incidentally, today has been quite cool topping out at a disappointing 11°C. Spain, warm?

While Francine was out doing good works, I amused myself assembling the remaining four dining chairs. Two more cardboard boxes bit the dust. OI also opened the dining table’s extension leaf fully expecting it to be just a slab of oak that required no assembly. Wrong! There were three pieces of wood to screw to it. I duly screwed them to it and another cardboard box bit the dust. 3 more down, 4 to go.

Just as Francine was returning, my phone rang. It was the bed delivery men saying they’d be here in 30-40 minutes. Great! I sat with a beer and watched. Eventually, a white van dawdled along a narrow lane down in the valley and turned up a dirt track just before our development. It reversed back to the narrow lane and continued into our development. The white van disappeared from view but I then spotted the roof of the van between some houses getting closer. It didn’t seem to get any closer and I feared they’d stopped too soon, perhaps wondering where we were. Since Hobble-along Cassidy was incapacitated, Francine went down to show them where we actually were. She was gone a long time. I then saw the suspect white van exiting the development and turn towards Alcalalí. This was either the wrong van or the driver was completely confused. I jumped in the car to rescue Francine from climbing back up the countless steps.

A dark blue van appeared and headed for us. This van was definitely the correct van ‘cos we could see that it had “Bed Specialists” emblazoned across its side panels.It almost made it but, as I went out to greet it, it reverse into our parking area and used it to turn around rather than coming on in. It drove back down the hill and turned up the wrong road, a blind alley. I gave chase in the car, met them and beckoned them in. Finally, two guys delivered and built our new bed along with a very sexy headboard and the bedside cabinets which is what we really wanted. [The headboard and cabinets came as a discounted bulk purchase, ex-display, but we’d seen none better.] We have a bed and very splendid it looks, too. We’ll be trying it out tomorrow night. Too tired to change rooms tonight. 😉

I’m saving the last four cardboard boxes for Wednesday which is forecast to have horrendous rain all day long.