Back to reality and Luton Airport. Three and a half hours drive from our UK home in the early hours of the morning, but when you are doing the return journey at 2pm on a weekday afternoon you can be looking at anything from four and a half to a head banging seven stressful hours.
In all fairness the seven hour journey was a one-off and a culmination of circumstances including roadworks, an accident on the motorway and the instructions from ‘Dora the Explorer’ (our sat nav). She sent us on an alternative route that was supposed to avoid congestion on the M6 but got us stuck in a small town off the motorway in rush hour. Not helped by the fact that the ‘Dora’ equivalent of half the other cars on the motorway had directed them through the same small town. Result, M6 motorway running freely, but back of beyond town in rural Staffordshire in complete gridlock. What fun.
What could possibly be concerning me while I was sat in this stagnant queue? Tiredness, hunger, thirst, the need for a wee stop? No, my one focus was DVT. Yes, deep vein thrombosis. I mentioned this to Deb and she looked at me as if a stranger had just thrown me out of the car and sat in my place. ‘We are sat in Back of Beyondsville, hours from home and you’re concerned about deep vein thrombosis.’ She said, astounded.
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘A client of mine was stuck in a traffic jam for 4 hours and got DVT. That was 3 months ago and he’s still under medical supervision now. Think about it. Exactly the same circumstances as being sat on a plane. In fact we’ve just been on a plane and now we will be sat in a car for who knows how long.’
I wasn’t sure from her look whether Deb was concerned for my physical or mental health but she said, ‘As soon as we can, let’s stop and get something to eat, drink, have a walk and maybe a wee visit.’ I knew she loved me.
That was a traumatic journey, and one that nearly made Deb look at booking Alicante flights from Manchester Airport, only 45mins from our UK home. But the cost savings and the calm, stag party free flights to Valencia from Luton were hard facts to ignore, so Luton it will always be.
Twighlight Sparkle and friends on a sophisticated weekend away.
Normal service resumed and back to our March 2019 visit to Casa en trébol.
As I was unloading, turning on the electric, connecting the gas and opening the windows to get some fresh air in, Deb was trying to get through to Leroy Merlin with no success at all. ‘They’re not picking up,’ she said, ‘I could be on the phone for ages. Tell you what, how about we go shopping and I’ll try later.’ ‘Great, let’s do that.’ I replied. Shopping, fantastic. I can try out my new Spanish skills.
We drove down into San Rafael where our favourite Consum store is, parked up and strolled confidently into the store. ‘Hola, buenos dias.’ I called to a familiar looking checkout assistant. ‘Hola, buenos dias.’ She called back in greeting. It felt good to be recognised and acknowledged in our local store.
We knew where most items were located from our frequent previous visits and proceeded to stock up on the weeks shopping. It was mainly the food for the week as most of our dry goods were purchased during our last visit. These were all stored nicely in our larder at home.
We had everything we needed in the trolley so the last item was ice. The ice freezer was nowhere to be seen so I would have to enquire. Brilliant. Time for the lessons to be put into practice. I approached a pleasant looking lady stacking shelves. ‘Donde esta el hielo?’ I said confidently, asking the shop assistant where the ice was. The response was a complicated mix of words I had no understanding of with lots of arm waving and pointing. I looked at her blankly and she said quietly with an indulgent smile and in accented English, ‘near the fish.’ ‘Muchas gracias.’ I mumbled and snook off with a sheepish grin. More lessons would be needed
Deb had more luck at checkout with requests for ‘tres bolsas por favor’ resulting in 3 bags being presented. The assistant tried to get us to sign up for a Consum rewards card, so we took the Application form as it was easier than trying to explain it was pointless applying as we had no address to send the card to. For those who missed my last hugely popular blog, our house is so rural it has no address, just a plot number and a vague description of the approximate area it’s in.
Return home, shopping stowed away and drinks prepared, we settled on our patio, Deb on the phone while I was admiring our view and immersing myself in the peace and quiet.’Bloody Leroy Merlin,’ Deb suddenly yelled, shattering the tranquillity. ‘I get an automated response giving me five options, none of which I understand, so I’ve chosen them all at least once and nobody ever answers the phone. We’re going to the Gandia store tomorrow and organise getting this furniture delivered.’ ‘OK hun.’ I said quietly.
Following a lovely night in front of a roaring fire and a really good nights sleep we set off to Gandia the following morning. It’s an enjoyable journey through rolling countryside of olive groves and interesting little settlements. We arrived 40 minutes later and proceeded to the outdoor furniture dept.
Our newly acquired Spanish language skills were inadequate for this particular scenario so we had to locate an English speaking assistant. As it turned out, the sofa set that we paid for on our last visit was still in Madrid, but now we were back in Spain this could be organised for delivery. However, the only day available was our last full day before we returned to the UK. So another week of sitting around on our inherited crappy white plastic furniture. Deb was not a happy bunny but at least she had a comfy sun lounger.
When we were leaving the store Deb said to me, ‘We must be close to the beach, how do you fancy dipping your toes in the Med while we’re here?’ ‘Great idea.’ I replied. So off we went to one of the lovely beaches in Gandia, wandered along the boardwalk and yes, dipped our feet in the Med.
We passed the time on the way back to our new home sticking imaginary pins in imaginary effigies of Leroy Merlin logistics managers. We felt somewhat better when we arrived back. Anyway we had a meeting with Julian and Marijse the following day at a local builders merchants to choose patio tiles for our pool conversion works so it was something positive to look forward to.
Nightly activity of soft music background, sat on the patio in the peaceful, darkening Spanish evening then retreat to the lounge where we sit around the roaring log fire, sipping our drinks and quietly planning our future.
The following day was like being back in the UK, cloudy, grey and a light drizzle. We arrived at the builders’ merchants, me dressed appropriately in flip flops, shorts, flimsy t-shirt and a thin jacket. Deb was dressed similarly. We strode quickly across the merchants yard leaping over puddles and into the warehouse where Julian and Marijse met us. ‘I think we’ll need to bring some more suitable clothing next time we come out here.’ I said to Deb. ‘Agreed,’ she said, shivering. ‘We’ll bring a hold suitcase with a lot more clothes and leave them here.’
I’m surprised Julian and Marijse had time to sell any houses through their agency, Loshildickos, the amount of time they spent with us. We did try to not take up too much of their time though and made our tile choice quite quickly. Our choice was going to increase the cost slightly so we agreed a maximum budget and arranged to make a payment to them the following day. The work would begin after this visit and be completed by our next holiday in June.
Back home the weather had cheered up so we sat on one of our patios and enjoyed the remainder of the day in sunshine.
The following day we had to get a payment to the Loshildickos office but we also had a delivery coming from Leroy Merlin. ‘I’ll go to the office,’ said Deb, ‘if you want to stay here in case they turn up.’ ‘Ok,’ I replied, ‘I hope to have it all set up for you when you get back.’ Off she went down the drive and into Town.
I couldn’t settle so went for a stroll out of the gates and up the stone track away from the house. In the distance and walking towards me came a gnarly and wizened old Spanish man, looking at me with a hint of interest tinged with suspicion. I couldn’t very well turn round and go back as it would seem rude, so I took a deep breath, smiled, waved and said loudly ‘Hola, buenos dias.’ He wandered over to me with a slight smile on his face. ‘Hola, buenos dias.’ He replied. ‘Como estas?’ How are you, I asked. ‘Bien, bein.’ He replied more enthusiastically. ‘Soy Inglais. Hablo un poco Espańol.’ I’m English. I speak a little Spanish I explained. ‘Me llamo Rob.’ ‘Me llamo Josef.’ He replied and we shook hands smiling. ‘Mi Casa.’ I said pointing at our new home in the distance. He pointed at a nearby house and mumbled something with Casa in it and assumed he was one of our neighbours.
By now my Spanish language arsenal was near empty and my only linguistic ammunition was to ask him where the ice was or if he had any bolsas, neither of which seemed appropriate in the middle of the countryside. We both stood there just smiling at each other and after a few more awkward seconds I just said ‘Adios Josef.’ waved and strode purposefully back home, confident in the knowledge I had just had my first Spanish conversation with a local neighbour. Result.
On Debs return I was still on a high following my lengthy dialogue with Josef. ‘No furniture then?’ She said. ‘No,’ I replied, ‘but I did have a conversation with Josef, our neighbour, who doesn’t speak a word of English and I think we got on rather well.’ ‘I can’t believe you met a neighbour and I wasn’t there.’ she said sitting down on a white plastic chair.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ I replied, ‘we drive past his house every time we go out so I’m sure we’ll see him again.’ ‘How did the conversation go?’ She asked with a grin. ‘Great.’ I said. ‘A little limited obviously but it was an experience.’
Our last night was all to soon upon us. ‘Still no word from Leroy Merlin.’ Deb said, shifting uncomfortably on her white plastic chair on the porch. ‘We’ll have to go back to Gandia when we’re here in June and either get it delivered or demand a refund.’ ‘OK,’ I said. ‘It’s a nice drive and we can have a trip to the beach.’ ‘You always see the positive don’t you?’ She replied.
..and here’s one you could have had, if you’d ordered it somewhere else.
The following morning we closed up the house and set off to Valencia airport for a journey back to UK home. We were getting used to this now and it was no where near as difficult to drag ourselves away. Only 7 weeks to our next visit, and it was for a whole 2 weeks. ‘Pool will be complete by our next trip and we will have furniture if it’s the last thing I do.’ said Deb.
I am only a very short distance on my journey along the well trodden path of many, many others on the blogging route and, lo and behold, I have come to my first junction.
Fortunately I have only a choice of 2 paths at this fork in the road, but the direction I choose will help when it comes to ’roundabouts of decisions’ in the future.
Hmmmm??
I’m not seeking guidance but getting my thoughts out there will no doubt focus my mind on the best way forward.
I started blogging because I love the written word and wanted to document mine and Debs’ (my beloved) thoughts and feelings from our Spanish property purchase experience which was, I think we shall call it, eventful and stressful although also character building.
Possibly, occasionally getting a little bit carried away with detail of certain events and sometimes maybe a little guilty of rambling on as I get more enthusiastic about the subject. However my loyal followers have only good things to say.
Following a series of a dozen or so blogs on my chosen subject I thought it was time to post a short blog on myself and my motivation in order to explain a little background on the reasons I started. This blog generated more interest than anything I had posted previously.
Why? I wonder. Were my previous posts a little too long? But that is why I started blogging and wordy posts where you can get into your flow is what I really enjoy.
I know I’m not on my own by checking my WordPress control board as to the stats and it’s exciting to see increased traffic, but would I be compromising the reason I started this if I changed the way I approached my posts?
I think this has highlighted a flaw in my original thinking. Don’t be a one trick pony. I came to the realisation that, at my age, I have extensive experience and views on a plethora of subjects, so get your thoughts and views out there.
I have therefore decided I will carry on documenting our on-going experiences on the steep learning curve that is establishing a new life abroad, but also adding ‘shorts’ with a diversity of subjects that I look forward to embracing.
I think I can clone myself to go down both forks at this junction without diluting the content. Not sure what will happen when I get to my first ’roundabout of decision’ though.
Somebody asked me recently, ‘What made you want to start a blog?’
Straightforward when you analyse it. I have always enjoyed the written word, whether reading it or, more infrequently, writing it. However, life has a habit of taking over and up until recently my only writing was in the form of supporting reports for construction projects.
Mine and Deb’s experience in our Spanish property purchase was such a roller coaster that I wanted to get our experiences, thoughts and emotions recorded so I could look back on them, sitting on our Spanish porch, overlooking our outstanding views and reminding me just how lucky we are.
In doing so it was the perfect opportunity to start practising my writing for pleasure and, I thought, it was also perfect timing to dive into the world of blogging. This was something I had thought about for quite a while but never seemed to have the time to research ‘how to start’ and I had also been concerned about the content.
But now I had a subject so the content was easy and once you have the content you are confident with you can organise your thoughts and concentrate on your writing. I didn’t research ‘how to start or ‘how to write’ I just hit the ground running on a ‘let’s suck it and see’ basis. I thought that if people don’t like it they will either tell me or just not bother reading it.
I am not a social media fan therefore I rely solely on WordPress and word of mouth for readers to view my blog and, for those that do, I really appreciate the comments and likes. I wanted to get that appreciation out there as I haven’t acknowledged all the comments I’ve received. I’m still on my learning curve of blogging etiquette.
It’s an immensely enjoyable experience and one I intend to carry on, documenting our new Spanish life when we move there permanently and, in the interim, describing our, all to brief, visits prior to our move.
It’s not just about the Spanish move though, I’m looking forward to expanding the subject matter as my confidence in my writing grows.
Who knows where this writing for pleasure will end up, but one thing is for sure, I will really enjoy the journey.
People have a defining moment where their day to day life ends and holiday starts. For some it’s when they’ve packed their case, for others it’s when they pick up their travel money. What’s yours? Go on, think about it.
For me, it’s when I leave the message on my office phone and mobile that I won’t be available until….whatever date….’and please leave a message.’ Some of my regular clients leave subtle messages such as, ‘What, you are joking? You’re away again? I’m obviously paying you too much.’ Others are content to wait a week or possibly two for an appointment to discuss their particular construction project. It’s a relief, and like a release, to be not tied to my phone. Exhilarating.
Deb and I have a routine the day before we go away. We both finish work at lunchtime, I leave messages on my phones and then we both go out for mid afternoon meal. This is the start of our holiday. We then go home, finish packing and grab an early night.
This second visit to our Spanish home was no different. Finish at lunch, out for meal, back home to pack, bed, then up at midnight for the drive to the airport. Yes, that’s right, midnight. Our chosen airport, Luton, is a three and a half hour drive from our home. Those that know us are amazed by this as we live only 45 minutes drive from a large international airport, Manchester. The reason for this bizarre behaviour is that we can get flights to Valencia from Luton as opposed to Manchester which flies mainly to Alicante with little or no choice to Valencia.
The Alicante flights are usually full of groups of guys or women on either stag or hen parties to Benidorm or golfing parties off to La Manga. Most are worse for too much alcohol prior to boarding and it can be a raucous time. You don’t get many stags or hens going to Valencia, yet, so it’s a much more civilised atmosphere. Our new Spanish home is exactly mid way between Alicante and Valencia airports so we choose the quieter option. Main reason though is that it’s so much cheaper, usually by a couple of hundred pounds. No brainer.
You see, I attempt to make this blog informative as well as, hopefully, entertaining.
It’s a fantastic drive through the night to Luton, unless the roadworks to upgrade to a ‘smart motorway’ mean road closures on the way down. It’s usually an uneventful, quiet drive only interrupted by the inevitable ‘wee’ stop that us older travellers need. Thank goodness for 24hr services but you really do get some dodgy characters hanging round these places at 3am. So pleased I’ve got Deb there to protect me.
Luton airport is also so much easier to get through than Manchester. Car parking is well sign posted and security is so well staffed there are no hold ups at all. We therefore end up in Frankie and Bennie’s, having breakfast at 5am, feeling completely calm and stress free.
Deb has just read this blog over my shoulder and said to me, ‘Moving to Spain is the subject not driving to Luton.’ ‘It’s all relevant,’ I replied, ‘It’s as much about us as the move.’ But, maybe she has a point.
Anyway, our gate was announced so we made our way there. Being 6 foot 6 inches tall means I need an extra leg room seat, Deb also has one, even though she’s only 4 foot 11 inches, in order that we can sit together. This means that we get priority boarding, woohoo! We’re not really that bothered, the only benefit we can see is that your bags are guaranteed to be above you in the lockers. Some though see it as a form of upper class travel as they smugly go to the very short ‘speedy boarding’ queue, past the great unwashed, and get to go through the gate first. So it was with this particular couple, who we shall call Mr & Mrs Smug, who managed to rush to the head of the ‘speedy boarding’ queue, loudly telling people they were frequent flyers therefore EasyJet pamper them.
This particular morning, because of works at the airport, we had to get on a bus to the plane. Speedy boarding out of the window because about a hundred people were crammed on to the bus and Mr & Mrs Smug were stuffed in a corner as they were first on, we did laugh. The driver then proceeded to take us on a magical mystery tour of the airport. It was apparent he was clueless as to the location of our plane when we passed the point we had got on the bus for the second time. 20 minutes in total we were driving round the airport looking for our plane and mostly the atmosphere on the bus was jovial, there were even a few songs starting to be sung.
Plane located and everyone got off. About 98 people boarded the plane before Mr & Mrs Smug and they climbed up the stairs all dishevelled and angry with threats of strongly worded letters to EasyJet about the ridiculous speedy boarding policy. It all made for a highly entertaining start to our flight.
Just over 2 hours later we were touching down at Valencia airport. Passing through was as easy and uneventful as usual, car hire was a breeze and within 40 minutes of landing we were on the road heading for Ontinyent.
‘We have a meeting with Julian and Marijse the day after tomorrow,’ I said to Deb, ‘we need to choose the tiles for the pool patio and then we can arrange the pool work to start.’ Deb was really animated and excited by this. ‘I would love it to be completed for our two week holiday in June.’ She replied. ‘It will be really hot so we’ll need a dip pool. First though I need to contact Leroy Merlin and get our furniture delivered. We’ve got sun loungers but we need that sofa and table set. I’ll call them as soon as we get home.’ The little white house on the hill or Casa ėn Treból as it was now known is also becoming our Spanish home.
Opening the gates and driving along the drive was magical again, I doubt the novelty will ever wear off. ‘Home, sweet home.’ said Deb as the views opened up before us.
‘I am so looking forward to this week,’ Deb said, ‘our last visit in February was for completion on the house and fact finding and familiarising. I’m looking forward to relaxing this week.’ Famous last words.
We arrived back on the Thursday, getting home in the early evening. Mood was upbeat as we had discussed all the way back what we were going to achieve during our next visit in 4 weeks.
I have to point out here that as soon as we had agreed on a completion date on our Spanish home, Deb had hit the internet and organised a few visits during 2019. When I say a few….well, firstly was a 5 day visit that we had just returned from following the completion, she then booked a 7 day visit 4 weeks later at the end of March, this was to be our next trip. Following that one we had a 14 day holiday in June, a 9 day trip in August for our Anniversary, a 14 day holiday the last week of September to the first week in October and finally a 7 day, pre-Christmas jolly the week before Christmas.
Contrary to popular belief, you don’t get the flight bargains by waiting until the last minute. Deb has an App that informs her as soon as EasyJet flights are released. She is then on it with a vengeance and has saved us well over a thousand pounds this year alone by being organised, planning our breaks away and booking flights early. Well, that saving is over 6 holidays and who in their right mind takes 6 holidays in a year?
Fortunately I work for myself and can dictate my own holidays, although I still have a commitment to my clients so I can see a lot of late nights and early mornings this year. Deb was another story though, she is employed, but as a Contractor, so she can take as many holidays as she wants but she won’t get paid for them. I don’t think though that her boss had an inkling she would be taking in the region of 45 days off work during the year. It helped that he’s just a figurehead and a clueless, unprofessional buffoon who doesn’t have a handle on the operation of the business and relies on suitably qualified subordinates to get him unscathed through each day. He never twigged when Deb kept sending in her holiday request forms. We were both therefore looking forward to our March trip completely unconcerned about our holidays and focused on works that needed prioritising.
Our stunning pool area
Primary project was the pool renovation. The pool, using the term very loosely, was an old water deposit. This would have been used as a water source for the property before it was attached to a mains supply. The water deposit was about 4m x 3m and 1.5m deep. It had been painted by the previous owner and they fitted a rudimentary filtration system. The patio around was paved and had a ‘tasteful’ gazebo frame cemented in. As difficult as this would obviously be, we were convinced we could enhance this area still further.
Firstly, we had to decide who would be the lucky benefactor of our generosity when we offered up the gazebo frame on a ‘free to good home’ basis. We only knew Julian and Marijse and they didn’t want it, unsurprisingly, so Pedro would have to cart it away for us.
The next discussion was whether we had a full pool installation carried out or adapt the existing water deposit as just a dip pool. ‘Chances are,’ I said, ‘we will only be able to use an unheated pool from about May to October.’ ‘That’s right,’ replied Deb, ‘and the most we will be out here during these months is about 5 weeks.’ I thought about this and said, ‘It seems like a pointless expense at this stage to have a full pool installed when we will only use it for about 5 weeks of the year.’ ‘I agree.’ Deb said.
It was therefore decided that for the next 3 to 4 years, before we retired to our little idyll, a dip pool would suffice. We could look at installing a new pool from scratch when we moved permanently. ‘I know what will work for our pool,’ Deb said, ‘a couple of steps down to a platform, partially under water, then a few more steps down into the pool.’ ‘Ok,’ I said, ‘it sounds interesting. Not sure how you will get that across to Julian.’ Deb then researched small pools, sourced a few example photo’s and sent these to Julian. We asked him to get prices from Pedro for transforming our hole in the ground to a really welcoming dip pool.
Deb’s pool idea. You’ll need lots of imagination
While Pedro was working out how to polish a turd, we re-commenced our Spanish lessons each Saturday. We turned up at our little school and were greeted by a new student, Julie. Similar age to us, roughly and very talkative and lively. Having a new person in the group worked really well and came as a useful distraction in the increasing hostility between myself and Phil. We had started off on the right foot but as the first couple of lessons had progressed she seemed to have a little difficulty when we were asked a question by Beckie, our teacher, and I had the audacity to get it right before her. ‘Swot’ and ‘Teachers Pet’ I used to get from under her breath, but said in a jokey manner. You can take the girl out of the playground but not the playground out of the girl. No matter, I’m a big boy, I can rise above such ridiculous trivialities.
Following the completion on our Spanish property, along with Alan and Phil completing on theirs the week before, Beckie decided to structure the lessons more around real situations, including shopping and eating out. I got this, I could apply it and it made sense. It was hugely useful and went some way to offsetting the anxiety of the supermarket checkout. Mind you, the anxiety was only on my part, Deb thrived on the experience and would quite happily ‘have a go’ at communicating with what seemed like appropriate words. If she didn’t know the Spanish word she would say it in English with a Spanish accent. The poor person she was addressing must think she was taking the mickey out of them. I wouldn’t know whether to laugh or stick my head in a bolsa, that’s Spanish for bag by the way. So it was with a huge amount of relief that we dealt with these situations.
Very soon, and with confidence, we could book a table at a restaurant, in smoking or non smoking, inside or outside and for whatever number of people. The mysteries of the menu written only in Spanish were also a thing of the past. We could wander round Consum asking for a wide variety of different foods, ask the checkout assistant for however many (bolsas) bags, and also understand the price when quoted to us. I was determined on our next visit to surprise and amaze with my new found knowledge and converse like a local.
Deb was coming on brilliantly, and what little she struggled with I seemed to thrive on, so between us we would be able to take on the world. Well, the Spanish speaking part of it anyway.
Our classmates were coming on too. Julie seemed to progressing nicely, Phil was basking in her own magnificence when she got something right, which was surprisingly infrequent considering this would be the second time she’d been through this course. Yes, I know, it’s a petty comment but some people bring it out in you. Then there was Alan, I liked Alan, but he came across as if he just couldn’t be arsed with it all. I think he was dragged along by Phil every week to keep her company. He either didn’t do his homework or he’d spend 5 mins in the car outside doing it before the lesson started. I understood why this was when he told me their neighbours all spoke English, where they had bought there house was a touristy place so everyone spoke English as well and you didn’t need Spanish to get by on a day to say basis.
But then why bother? It was Beckie I felt sorry for. Teaching is a vocation and the ability to deliver lessons and share hard earned knowledge shouldn’t be wasted on folk who haven’t got an interest. We’ll that’s what I think.
Deb and I would throw ourselves into our homework on the Saturday afternoon after class or on the Sunday. Then we have on-going revision during the week and have a refresh just before travelling to class the following week. It’s important to us that we get a grasp of the language. Julie came each week with the same upbeat attitude as well and would be clutching a huge tardis like bag, from which she would retrieve all manner of books, pens and reference materials in readiness to absorb more knowledge. We three alone had enough enthusiasm and motivation to fill a small classroom. Ability was a little lacking in my case but I tried to balance this out with my effort.
In the meantime, in between our weekly learning experience and my battle of wills and maturity with Phil, the pool refurbishment quote had landed from Pedro. It came in just shy of 5,000€ including tax, but is that good, bad or what? I had no idea. They would be installing Deb’s platform and steps, tiling the whole of the inside of the pool and the patio area round it, installing new pump, filter, jets, skimmer and er… other pooly bits, so it sounded quite reasonable but a little bit more than we had budgeted for. ‘It needs doing,’ said Deb, ‘we’ll need it in the Summer.’ ‘OK,’ I replied, ‘I’ll arrange for us to meet Julian and Pedro when we go back to the house and we can organise the work to start.’
A few days before we were due to return to Spain, Deb was in work and talking to a colleague about the pool reurb to be arranged during our next visit, when her boss overheard the conversation. ‘Are you off again?’ He said. ‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘You remember you signed it off before Christmas?’ Glazed, vacant look took over as the internal cogs slowly moved into action. ‘Oh yes, that’s right,’ he said, followed by, ‘I think it may be an idea to get a Planner for the office wall so everyone knows who’s away and when.’ ‘Great idea.’ Deb said, cringing at the thought of all her holidays for the year being on show for all the world to see. ‘I’ll get onto it as soon as I get back to work.’ Like that was going to happen.
Two days later and we were airport bound. Valencia and Ontinyent here we come again.
The following morning after our first night in our new home, we sat on the porch, tea and coffee in hand and watching the view . ‘I will never tire of this.’ Deb said. ‘The views are spectacular and listen to the peace and quiet, there is not a sound.’ It was true, the odd tweet from a bird, but it was just still. ‘A bit cloudy this morning though.’ I replied. ‘I hope it breaks up.’ Deb glanced up at the lonesome, fluffy little cloud which was spoiling the otherwise uninterrupted blue sky and giggled. ‘Take a photo,’ she said, ‘and send it Josh saying the weather is terrible here.’ Photo and message duly sent and sarcastic reply received 5 minutes later from our son in university in a very soggy Newcastle.
We sat there deep in thought for a few minutes. ‘These chairs are so uncomfortable.’ I said. ‘I won’t be sitting in these for long.’ We were now the proud owners of the ubiquitous white plastic table and chair set. ‘Furniture is on the long list of things we need,’ said Deb, ‘along with sun loungers, a new fly screen for the front door, a vacuum cleaner and we need to get the Wifi sorted, I can’t keep using my phone.’ ‘Consider that dealt with,’ I replied, ‘Julian said he will organise the Wifi and the chap is coming out today to fit it. There has been so much going on I forgot to tell you.’ ‘Brilliant,’ she said.
Wifi man was coming out late afternoon, accompanied by Julian and Marijse, as much for translation skills as to see how we were getting on. That left us the rest of the day to organise a few things. Before we could leave though a figure appeared on our drive. Approx age, 60, but lively with it as he had managed to climb over the gate I had locked the night before. He had no English and, apart from introducing ourselves and asking how he was, we had no Spanish. He was also hard of hearing with poor eyesight so Google translate was useless. We managed to work out that he was our neighbour, that he did the gardening and that he wanted 30€ for this service. We couldn’t work out whether the 30€ was for a month, a week, a day or an hour and we only managed to get rid of him after it became obvious he was getting no money out of us. ‘We’ll ask Julian about this.’ I said to Deb.
First task in town was our bank account. We had arranged for Mayte, our lawyer, to meet us at a branch of Caixa bank to pick up all our account paperwork. She had established the account using the Power of Attorney and wanted to finalise everything for us. We then had a drive round town looking for somewhere to purchase garden furniture and stumbled across a large showroom called Gandiablasco which sold everything for the outdoor lifestyle. We knew we were out of our financial depth when the sales person unlocked and opened the door, quite openly looked us up and down, deemed we were suitable clientele, then stood back and allowed us entry. Then immediately locked us in. We wandered round awkwardly perusing the highly uncomfortable looking, but horrendously expensive, modern furniture. Even if we had a limitless budget I wouldn’t purchase this kind of furniture, it was just designed to look the part, practicality, comfort and functionality were not even a consideration. ‘Let’s get out here.’ Said Deb. ‘I’m right behind you.’ I replied. The sales assistant smiled with that kind of patronising smirk that all high end sales people have as they are thinking, ‘I was right, there is no chance they can afford anything in here. Stick to Carrefour where you belong.’ Pompous arse.
‘Right,’ I said, ‘I’ve had enough of this, the sun is over the yard arm so shall we hit our patio, get on our cheap plastic chairs and treat ourselves to a few drinks before the visitors arrive?’ ‘Good idea,’ Deb responded, ‘let’s make the most of it.’
Julian and Marijse turned up a few hours later with WiFi man in tow. Position of aerial established, we proceeded to demolish another bottle wine while the works progressed. After an hour Casa èn Trėbol was connected to the world wide web.
Julian and Marijse really are lovely people, so helpful and considerate with a huge wealth of local knowledge that they were, and still are, more than willing to share. We discussed outdoor furniture, laughed about Gandiablasco, and covered gardening and works we wanted to carry out, starting with the pool. ‘I’ll get Pedro down to give you a price for developing the existing pool area.’ Said Julian. ‘He can schedule the work around your visits and have it ready for the Summer.’ ‘Perfect.’ Said Deb. They also pointed us in the direction of a store called AKI in Xativa for outdoor furniture. This is like a B&Q or Homebase, in other words, more affordable.
We had another glorious night sat around the roaring fire, quaffing huge amounts of alcohol in our on-going celebration and making future plans. First plan was to go to AKI and get some comfortable furniture. ‘For now,’ said Deb, ‘we need a sofa set with a table for the porch and a couple of sun loungers for the patio.’ I agreed. ‘That’ll do for now,’ I said, ‘we can get anything else as we feel we need it. If we can find the right furniture tomorrow, it could be ordered and possibly delivered before we leave.’ Oh but it should be that simple.
We used our new WiFi to locate the store, but it turned out they had been taken over by a company called Leroy Merlin and the store was having a re-fit prior to opening. ‘So,’ I said, ‘Leroy Merlin is like a bigger B&Q, but that store isn’t open yet. Where is the next nearest one?’ ‘Gandia,’ Deb said ‘about a 40min drive.’ This was getting ridiculous. All you have to do in the UK is drive to the nearest garden centre, Homebase or B&Q, with at least one of those a maximum of 5 minutes away, and order your outdoor furniture…..and the UK has crap weather!! Right, Gandia here we come.
Around an hour later we entered Leroy Merlin in Gandia and located, within this massive building, the outdoor furniture area. We picked the sun loungers, a 7 seater ‘L’ shaped sofa set with table and a couple of stools and a humongous parasol.
After finding an English speaking assistant we proceeded to order our chosen furniture. The assistant enquired if we were taking it all with us. No, we aren’t taking it all with us as it won’t fit into our woefully inadequate rental Fiat 500, it will need to be delivered. ‘What is your address?’ The assistant asked. Believe it or not, our house does not have an address, it has a plot number and a vague description of it’s location for Land Registry purposes only, but address? No.
This was then the subject of an hour’s discussion with our pigeon Spanish, his passable English and Google translate to organise delivery. It would be in two days time, to a property they had no address for and, the chances were, delivered by a driver with no English speaking ability, who may well call us first. Why??? We parted with over 2,000€ with absolutely no confidence we would ever see the furniture, or money, ever again.
Two days of peace, quiet and indulgence followed with all talk of pool, gardening and plans of retirement.
A phone call came through on our penultimate day from a chap announcing, in pretty good English, that he had a delivery for us from Leroy Merlin but didn’t have a clue where we were. Fortunately, a decision had been made at the store to send a delivery driver with a grasp of our language as we didn’t have theirs. We arranged to meet him in the car park of Aldi on the main road a few miles away. He followed us back to our unaddressed abode and proceeded to drop off two sun lounges, and a humongous parasol, but no sofa set.
‘Where is the rest of our furniture?’ Said Deb. Apparently it was coming from Madrid and would be delivered the following week. Obviously we wouldn’t be there next week so, after lengthy discussions, it was decided the furniture should be dropped at the Gandia store and delivered during our week’s visit when we were back in March. Famous last words.
Final night sat round a roaring fire and we were all packed for an early dash to Valencia airport in the morning. ‘Have you enjoyed the last few days,’ enquired Deb, ‘and have they lived up to expectations?’ ‘Lived up to and surpassed.’ I said. ‘There is a bit to do here to make it right for our retirement but we’ll get it done and enjoy all of it.’ More famous last words.
The following morning was emotional as we closed up the house, and turned everything off in readiness to leave. Gates were locked and we made our way to the main road. ‘We’ll be back in 4 weeks.’ I said to Deb. ‘It’ll feel like an age,’ she replied tearfully. ‘I’m missing it already.’ It was surreal driving to the airport knowing we had our very own piece of Spain waiting for us to return.
‘Right,’ said Deb, ‘as much as I want to stand here all day and make the most of the views, we need bedding, food and, of course, a few drinks for celebrating.’ ‘Ok hun,’ I said, ‘let’s go shopping in our new home town.’
Julian had pointed us in the direction of a huge supermarket called Family Cash, nearest thing in the UK would be a very large Asda or Tesco, we were looking at purchasing our bedding there. It would then be on to Consum for our food, and drink, shopping. We’re familiar with the products at Consum which helps when you can’t speak the language. There is nothing worse than having to type everything into Google translate to find out what’s in the tin or packet. We know Pollo and Queso but not everything contains chicken or cheese. The Spanish lessons so far only stretched to introducing ourselves to, or greeting, the food, not finding out what it was.
Driving into town we viewed the surroundings in a new light. ‘We belong here now,’ I said, ‘we actually own a property in this town. This is our Spanish home.’ ‘I know,’ Deb said, ‘you do look at at it differently don’t you?’
Meandering around Family Cash, we were looking for the bedding section while surrounded by conversations we had no hope of understanding, unless of course they were greeting, or introducing themselves, to someone. ‘I love this,’ said Deb, ‘I’m more used to supermarkets in Javea or other tourist areas, but this is real and not just England in the sun.’ ‘It’s great isn’t it?’ I replied, ‘But people are looking at us and grinning inanely. Do you think they know we’re English and can’t speak the language?’ ‘No,’ she said, ‘ It’s the usual looks we get in the UK because of our height difference. You just notice it more here as you’re a bit more self conscious.’ For those of you out there who haven’t been following my hugely popular blogs recently I must point out that I am 6 foot 6 inches in height and Deb is 4 foot 11 inches. Highly amusing to some, highly vexing to me depending on the quality of looks or comments. The looks and smiles we got in Family Cash though were more endearing than anything else.
Checkout was simple as we only had 4 items, 2 mattress protectors for a single and a double bed and 2 sets of bedding for a single and a double. Yes I know there are only two of us but I tend to snore a bit if I have a few too many drinks, which was highly likely this evening, so Deb was making provision for a late night escape from our bedroom. We therefore went through the self checkout thus avoiding the awkward face to face experience with a Spanish only speaking checkout assistant.
No such luck at Consum. We were only in town for 5 days but we still needed a sizeable shop, including celebratory drinks for the evening, so a large trolley was employed. The shopping was fun, as ever, trying to work out what the product in the package was if not pollo or queso, and eventually made our way to checkout. Checkouts are great in tourist areas as the staff have to have a modicum of English. Not inland though, inland we come face to face with people who only speak Spanish. In all fairness, why the hell shouldn’t they, it is Spain when all said and done.
‘Hola, Buenos.’ the assistant said. I was waiting for ‘dias’ or ‘tardes’ following the buenos, as we had been taught in our lessons, but nothing was forthcoming. Apparently, they trim the greeting for efficiency. ‘Hola’ said Deb. The lady garbled something with a big, smiley and friendly face which meant nothing to us and I looked around to see the queue building behind us. Awkward silence, then she started running the items through the scanner. ‘ Dos…er.. bags… er … por favor’ said Deb in her seamless, fluent Spanish/English. More friendly smiles from the checkout assistant who seemed to understand the word ‘bags’, fortunately, and gave Deb a small handful. Items scanned and bagged, it now came to paying. The check out assistant garbled something else at us and I looked at her blankly. She duly turned the screen of the till towards us and pointed at the amount. At this point I was aware of the interesting stares of the ever growing queue behind us and was keen to pay and escape. Another question from checkout assistant, which was greeted by more blank stares and another awkward silence from us. She eventually got the idea we hadn’t got a clue what she was saying, took my money off me and thrust some change in my hand. I couldn’t get us out of there quick enough. ‘We need more Spanish lessons!!!!’ I said to Deb.
Back to the safety of our little finca and I was a bit more comfortable. We put the shopping away and Deb said, ‘I’ll make a start on a meal, I’m starving. Fried breaded chicken and chips?’ That’ll do,’ I said, ‘I’m just going to have a look at the sheds.’ Yes gents, I did say sheds. I now have a shed under the pool area with storage for loads of.. er…things. I have a wood shed, poorly stocked with logs and kindling and I have a tool shed. The tool shed had lots of organised tools, the usual screwdrivers, hammers, saws, etc but there was also a rotovator, whatever one of those is, and a chainsaw. I’ve always wanted a chainsaw but could never justify buying one. I have one now though, and it came with the scary mask. Second childhood time.
‘The electric’s gone off.’ Came the shout from the house. I locked my tool shed and made my way to the house in the early evening dusk. ‘What’s up hun?’ I said as I walked in the kitchen. ‘I’m cooking tea and the electric’s just gone off. I’ve got the chicken cooking, the chips are in the electric oven and I’ve put the electric heater on because it’s cold.’ I think you may have over loaded the electric. ‘I said. ‘I’ll go and re-set it.’ I remembered the re-set procedure Julian went through earlier so I was confident I could sort out this minor issue. Off to the shed I went to get the torch and the screwdriver, a 75m walk down the drive, unlock the gates, open the meter cupboard and re-set the meter. Bingo, sorted.
Back up to the house, lock the gates, 75m walk up the drive, open the shed, put tools away and go back into the kitchen, just as the electric goes off again. ‘You’ve overloaded the bloody electric again.’ I said, fairly aggravated. ‘Unplug that heater while I go and set the electric again. DO NOT PLUG ANYTHING ELSE IN.’ Back off to the shed, pick up tools, long walk, gates, meter, re-set and then back again. Pissed off would be an understatement. ‘Sorry hun.’ Deb said, and giggled, just a bit. What can you do, or say? ‘No problem hun,’ I said, ‘just don’t plug that bloody heater in again.’
Evening meal over and worse for a few wines and vodka’s for celebration, and it was getting chilly by now, it was February after all. We cleaned up and dragged the chairs around the wood burner. It’s been a few years but you never lose the ability to set a fire, and so it was within 15 minutes we had a roaring fire and a stack of logs ready to feed it.
In the darkness, lit only by the firelight and heated by the roaring flames I sat and looked at Deb. ‘Happy hun?’ She said, smiling broadly. ‘Like you couldn’t imagine hun’ I replied. ‘I have the house of my dreams with the woman of my dreams, and I also now have a chainsaw.’
Deb had prepared a countdown calendar for my office so that I could cross off the days and weeks to completion. It went very slowly I can tell you, like a watched kettle that never boils. We were both busy at work during the week though and then on Saturday’s we had our new Spanish lessons, so we were filling our time and not dwelling on the day of the sale.
The Spanish lessons were really helping as it meant we were cementing our move by addressing our biggest handicap. The first lesson established what we did (or more impotantly, didn’t) know. We started the process by learning greetings and introductions and were given information on literature to support the lessons. I thought my educational days were behind me and I was concerned that my aged brain wouldn’t absorb the information easily but Beckie is gifted with a huge amount of patience, which she will need, and puts the subject across in an interesting and entertaining manner that holds the attention. Considering Beckies’ teaching ability I was surprised Phil and Alan weren’t further advanced but apparently, due to house hunting visits to Spain, their attendance was a little inconsistent. At least we were all on a level though.
We only had a couple of lessons when Phil and Alan announced they were off to Spain to complete on their house in Los Romanes. We were going the following week to complete on ours so we had a break for a couple of weeks. I was practising what we had been taught and was determined to give my new found linguistic skills an outing when we visited Ontinyent again for our house purchase.
Eventually the 20th Feb arrived and I arranged payment of the balance of funds to the vendors to be made the following day and e-mailed this confirmation to our lawyer, Mayte, for her meeting with the Notary when the official property handover would take place.
We both had to work on the big day, but it was pointless as I was distracted, as much by my own thoughts as Debs texts every 5 minutes, ‘Have you heard anything yet?’ I couldn’t get anything done. Then, just after lunch, Mayte text me ‘You have a house.’ That was it, no corks-a-popping, dancing girls or fireworks going off. ‘You have a house.’ Talk about underwhelming. I called Deb. ‘We have a house.’ I said. She was ecstatic as you can imagine. ‘It’s really ours?’ She asked. ‘It is hun.’ I replied.
That one simple paragraph above in no way reflects the 3 years of anxiety and stress, and of striving, manipulating and head banging our way through the system to try to achieve our dream. The only way to put it into words is, ‘We have a house.’
The days between completion and us travelling out to our new Spanish home dragged like you wouldn’t believe. The days were a chore and at night we were constantly making plans for the future. The pool was the first big project, but firstly we had address the smaller issues. ‘We need to get the basics,’ said Deb, ‘like cutlery, bedding, cleaning materials, you know, everyday things.’ ‘They advertised it fully furnished,’ I replied, ‘so that means everything will be left. We can replace everything over time but it will start us off.’ ‘I’m not sleeping on someone else’s bedding,’ she retorted ‘we need at least bedding and towels.’ ‘Ok,’ I agreed, ‘we’ll find somewhere in town to get them.’ I then added, ‘What about where to get gas bottles from, where’s the electricity meter, are we on a septic tank, all that kind of thing?’ You can tell I had the blue list of concerns while Deb’s was definitely the pink list. ‘Julian will show you all of that while I’m checking through the house.’ She said.
Getting through Valencia airport was a dream as usual. we picked up our car, although we didn’t really need one as we were travelling on a cloud of anticipation and excitement, and arrived in Ontinyent an hour later. We popped in to see Mayte to pick up our keys and legal paperwork, she offered hugs and congratulations, then it was off to our new home.
The drive up to the house was surreal. Here it was, ours, after over 12 months of waiting patiently for it. We were still pinching ourselves and still couldn’t quite believe we were here, at our house. Julian met us on the front porch with big hearty welcomes and hugs and shakes of hands and then took us through the familiarisation stage. Deb was going through the kitchen as Julian showed me the internal fuse box first. I could hear Deb in the kitchen, ‘They have left absolutely everything,’ she said, ‘this is a fully stocked kitchen, ready to go with all the crockery, cutlery pans and everything looks brand new as if they’ve never been used.’ ‘That’s great hun,’ I said, trying to sound interested. Next Julian went through the gas connections for the cooker and the hot water and where to purchase them from, then onwards down the drive. ‘There’s your septic tank.’ said Julian as we walked past a manhole cover at the edge of the drive. We reached the gate and I was pointed in the direction of the water meter. ‘Turn this off when you leave, just in case,’ said Julian. A little further on and he pointed out the electric meter to me. He then showed me how to re-set it if it tripped, the single most useful piece of information that day, as will become apparent.
Back up to the house and a gleeful Deb didn’t know where to put herself or what to look at first, she was beside herself with excitement. ‘We only need bedding,’ she said, ‘You would not believe the amount of stuff they have left. We can start living here immediately and just replace things as we go. There’s an iron and ironing board, kettle, toaster, toastie maker, even washing up liquid and cleaning materials. The log burner has all the fire lighters, matches and the previous owner has even made the fire up for us so we can have that fire roaring later.’ There was also a leather 3 piece suite dining table and 6 chairs and a bed and bedroom furniture in each bedroom. What looked like a new washing machine was in the outdoor kitchen as well. Perfect.
Julian had things to do and places to be so said his farewells and before he left added, ‘Any issues over the next couple of days, then just give me a ring.’ ‘We’ll be fine,’ I said, ‘but many thanks anyway.’ Then, he was gone, and we were stood on the porch of our very own little piece of Spain. I lack the ability to truly put into words how we both felt at that moment in time, but highly emotional would be an understatement. We had the most outstanding views before us and there was not a sound to be heard, it was absolutely idyllic. The dream had come to fruition.
‘Now, let’s get this place in shape and fit for our future.’ Deb said.
A new day dawns, and with a new day comes a new set of issues. We have achieved the offer and acceptance stage, we now just need to get the sale across the line in a few months. Where to start? Well, with a lawyer.
We weren’t familiar with the legal profession in Spain, oddly, so we relied on Julian and Marijses’ recommendation. They arranged an initial meeting with Mayte Belda Reig, a partner in Asesoria Belda Reig, a lawyers firm in Ontinyent who have handled many sales for Los Hildickos.http://www.loshildickos.com/
Mayte put us at ease immediately. Fortunately she had a good command of the English language, therefore our pigeon Spanish and Google translate weren’t required. She told us that we would first have a sale contract drawn up, which us and the vendors needed to sign and then the 10% deposit could be paid. Mayte also told us what else we would have to have in place which included NIE numbers, a bank account, registering with the town hall and of course our 10% of the sale price to get the property off the market. Fortunately the vendors were English and based in the UK so paying the 10% was easy, a straight transfer from our UK account to theirs. The rest was a little more complicated.
When you are looking to purchase abroad you do your research and it seems to be an absolutely complicated minefield of red tape, queuing, language barriers and stress.Mayte explained that we needed to attend the police station, the town hall, the bank etc and it all seemed daunting and time consuming. There are also all the legal checks through the Spanish equivalent of the Land Registry. This ensures there is no debt on the house and that the building, associated out-buildings and plot boundaries that are being sold are all legal. The Notary needs to see all of this paperwork before completing the sale. Gone are the days when you just met Pedro on a street corner, gave him a bag of cash and he gave you a key.
You will also hear nightmare stories of penny pinching purchasers who insist on doing it themselves to save a few quid. Don’t bother, just mention one phrase to your lawyer, Power of Attorney. Your lawyer will then schlep around getting all the relevant information, register you at the town hall, get your NIE and basically legitimise you in Spain for a couple of hundred Euro. Believe me, a bargain. The only thing we had to do before we left was to attend the Notary with Mayte in order to sign off The Power of Attorney. The Notary is a professional in the Spanish legal system whose main function is to certify and legalise agreements, contracts and documents to ensure they fulfil legal criteria. Ours had a sense of humour as he asked how my brother Paul (Newman) was, although most of the humour was lost in the time it took Mayte to translate it. Haha. We parted company with Mayte, relaxed in the knowledge that all things needed to secure our house purchase were in good hands.
We had requested a further visit to the property with Julian and Marijse before we left Ontinyent and they readily agreed. We turned up at their office and met Marijse. ‘Well congratulations you two,’ she said, giving us both a hug. ‘I am really pleased for you. It has been a bit of a journey hasn’t it?’ ‘It’s really has been emotional,’ said Deb, ‘but we got there in the end.’ Marijse then handed us the key and said, ‘You know the way, take your time and drop the key off later.’ We couldn’t believe it, we get to view the property on our own. This was going to be fantastic.
Deb of course was thrilled and excited as we made the 2km journey into the surrounding hillside. ‘We’ll be doing this for real in a few months,’ she said, ‘making the journey up to our own house. I’m still pinching myself, I can’t believe this is nearly ours.’ I agreed, but just sat there quietly still absorbing the reality of the situation. We unlocked the gate and proceeded up the drive towards the house. We saw it in a different light today, as very nearly our future home. ‘That pool needs sorting,’ I said, ‘It is an absolute eyesore and completely ruins the view.’ ‘The pool can be the first project on the agenda when we complete.’ Deb replied. ‘We’ll ask Julian and Marijse about local builders.’
I looked around the plot and said ‘Gardening. We need to organise the gardening. There isn’t much in the way of plants but I can see weeds being a nightmare. Also, the trees. There must be 40 or 50 olive trees and we also have a few orange and lemon trees as well as fig, almond, plum, pepper and pomegranate, plus maybe a few more we don’t know about. Who looks after them, prunes them, harvests the produce etc?’ ‘No idea,’ Deb replied, ‘but somebody must be doing it as they are all reasonably tidy. It’s not the owner as he spends so little time here.’ ‘We’ll ask Julian and Marijse.’ I said. That phrase was to be our mantra for the next 6 months. When in doubt, ask Julian and Marijse.
We dropped the key off back at the office, which was closed as it was gone 2pm and siesta time, and went back to our scruffy, stuffy (we couldn’t open the windows or doors because of flies) and tired rental villa to pack.
Back in the UK and the sale contract turned up a few days later from our lawyer, Mayte, which seemed to be all in order. It was written in Spanish and English, therefore straightforward. The vendors had signed it already so we signed it and e-mailed it back to Mayte. We then transferred 10% of the agreed sale price to the vendors from our UK account to theirs, no hassle with exchange rates and money transfers. We were then committed and had 5 months to arrange the balance. Not a problem.
Over the coming months things just happened very smoothly. Mayte was doing all the legwork in Spain on our behalf, our NIE numbers were e-mailed to us, the utilities were going to be changed as soon as we completed and the town hall knew who we were. The Land Registry had confirmed all was good with the house, apart from a small mortgage on the property which the vendors would clear prior to completion. The whole process was seamless and I kept wondering why it was so easy. You hear some nightmare stories of foreign property purchases and I was expecting the wheel to come off at some point. I then thought, why should the wheel come off? After all the crap and disappointment we’ve been through for the last couple of years, weren’t we due little smooth running?
As it turned out, not only did everything run smoothly but I worked out we would be able to complete earlier than predicted, by the end of Feb 2019. I told Deb and, as expected, she was over the moon. ‘Can we complete on my birthday?’ She said excitedly. Her birthday is on 23rd Feb. ‘Sorry hun,’ I said, ‘I already thought of that but the 23rd is a Saturday, Neither Notary or lawyer is available on a Saturday.’ ‘What about the 21st?’ She said. ‘That was grandad’s birthday. It would be great to complete on a notable date.’ 21st Feb 2019 it was then. I e-mailed Julian and Mayte, who were both pleased for us, and they put everything in place for that date. ‘Will you be there on the day?’ Mayte asked in an e-mail. Unfortunately we couldn’t be there due to work committments, but that is the beauty of Power of Attorney, or, as Mayte would often say, ‘I have the Power.’ Whenever she said this I half expected the 90’s German pop group Snap! to appear and start singing their well known hit I have the Power, or for He Man to walk in the room, thrust his sword in the air and yell ‘By the Power of Grey Skull!’ Then watch him and Skeletor battle it out in the lawyers office. Neither ever happened unfortunately, but what it did mean was the completion ceremony could be dealt with by her alone in our absence.
We had though booked a flight and car hire for the 28th Feb, another noteable day as it was Deb’s grandma’s birthday, but no accommodation as we would have our own house by then.
Early January 2019, Deb said to me, ‘Right, Spanish lessons, we need a better understanding of the language than we have now. We can’t just rely on Google translate.’ ‘You’re right,’ I replied, ‘but we’re not going back to that one we tried before.’ When we first decided to move to Spain we thought lessons would be a good idea, especially as we were looking inland for a property. We contacted a local school called The Spanish Learning Centre and enrolled on the next beginners Spanish class that was starting in a few weeks, it was an evening class one hour per week. The first night arrived and we turned up to be joined by two other couples, one our age and one younger, a couple of chaps on their own and a lady our age. A nice sized group, everyone seemed pleasant and with a variety of reasons for learning Spanish. Our teacher was, Jorge, pronounced like you are clearing you throat for the J, then or, then more throat clearing for the g, and finally ay for the e. The desks were covered in spittle by the time everyone greeted Jorge.
The first lesson commenced with self introductions, everyone got to know a bit about everyone one else, and the group dynamic seemed really good as we started the learning process. It was fairly basic, as you would imagine for beginners Spanish, but I think we were all comfortable as everyone had a little bit of knowledge. The second lesson was a natural progression of the first and taking us that little bit further. The group were getting more comfortable with each other and the atmosphere was light and jovial. Week three saw the introduction of a new member to the group, which disrupted things a little. We spent the first half an hour going over what we had been taught over the last couple of weeks for the new members benefit, and the last half an hour listening to Jorge constantly correcting this woman who seemed determined to prove to Jorge that she knew more than he did. What a waste of money. Week four and two more new members plus the argumentative one. It descended into farce with Jorge yet again repeating the first and second lessons while still correcting little miss know-it-all. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ I said to Deb, on our way out of the lesson. ‘It’s pointless. We are never going to learn anything.’ Deb agreed and the following day they received a strongly opinionated e-mail from me explaing the flaws in their structure and the fact they wouldn’t be seeing us again. We were offered a free couple of lessons as compensation. Unbelievable.
Needless to say we never took them up on their generous offer and all thoughts of Spanish lessons went on the back burner. Until now.
Google search in our area plus a recommendation from a colleague pointed us in the direction of the Fylde Foreign Language Centre, http://www.fyldeflc.com/ who teach French, Spanish, Greek, German, Russian, Italian and even Mandarin, to all ages from infants to OAP’s. Falling midway between these age groups, well, nearer the top end, we thought this would be right for us. We e-mailed an enquiry and eventually spoke to a very lively and enthusiastic young lady called Beckie. She runs the school and was very keen for us to enrol. Beckie informed us she had a couple on her books who were just about to move to Spain and they wanted to re-enrol on the beginners course again as revision after doing it some months ago. We arranged our first lesson for the end of January along with this other couple. We couldn’t wait and I said to Deb, ‘We’ll be able to get by in Spanish by the time we go in February.’ ‘I think that might happen in February 2020 but certainly not next month.’ She replied. I thought ‘We’ll just build on lessons we’ve had previously, it’ll be easy.
First lesson and our opportunity to meet our fellow students, Philomena (I think that’s how you spell it) and Alan. A little bit older than us, Alan had just retired and Phil or P (so much easier than typing it all out) was a retired nurse but now selling dog food and accessories on the internet. This job would be transferable to their new Spanish home. They were on the verge of completing on their new property in Los Romanes overlooking Embalse de La Vinuela, much seen on A Place in the Sun, and their completion date was within a week of ours. Before we could get to comparing notes on our respective properties, Beckie turned up. ‘Hola, buenos dias. Como estas?’ She said, very enthusiastically, ‘Muy bein.’ We replied, although with maybe not so much gusto and confidence. Here we go again.
Moving to Spain? Help! 