In Slough

I have often been to Slough - I used to live near there - in another beautifully named town of England - Staines (home of the delightful character, Ali G). Slough and Staines... and don't forget Bletchley, which always sounds like someone throwing up to me. Who thought of these names?

Now, where was I or rather, where am I? Well, for much of this week. I WAS in Slough, in the Slough of Despond to be exact. This is a place in Bunyan's Pilgrims Progress (but suits Slough the town pretty well too. Sorry if I offend any Sloughians (pronounced Sluffians?) but honestly, it was never one of my favourite places.)  Ah yes, the Slough of Despond - a bog that Christian has to cross in the allegorical tale. I'm not going to try and carry an allegory through this posting, only to say that I've had a bad week - we all have them from time to time - and I'm through it now and it does feel a bit like I've trekked through a bog.

Nothing bad has happened to me or to any of us, I'm glad to say. However, last week, Mateo and I heard some awful news from home which, although didn't directly involve anyone we know well, did upset us both and we shared many a hug and appreciated each other a bit more than usual. Then - and this is GOOD - Cesar received an email asking him to apply for funding for a year's post-doctoral research.... at an English University. Now, I say this is GOOD, because it's very good. The timing is mind-blowingly bad not helpful. (Neat way of saying what I really mean, thanks Natalie of the lovely Chickenblog fame!) And whilst it's good to be asked to apply - applying itself will not guarantee the funding. And the outcome of the application will not be known until next May. And he's applied.

So now we have what appears to be conflicting options:

• of finding the place in which to spend the rest of our lives together here in northern southern .. in Spain; linked to which is the logistics of finding a place to rent so we can house hunt at leisure; furnished or unfurnished to start with? checking out prices for hiring trucks for moving whatever furniture/belongings we would need to take with us; before new term starts or wait another school term? trying to predict weather forecasts for journeys; trying not to upset family who don't want us to move; 

• of facing the possibility that at least one (or maybe all of us) might need to move back to England for a period; how much of the above should we continue to pursue? should we stay here in the meantime; what would be best for the children; what if he gets the funding; what if he doesn't;

As an ENFP, I should relish these options - the changing landscape unfolding ahead of me, the countless options available to choose from! BUT!! I need to add a few factors that have tipped the balance.

I have discovered I have a deep-rooted aversion to driving our new car. The Volvo thing of my past obviously has a deep psychological hold. It was bad enough driving the Fiat again after the accident; then there was the collision on the first outing with the new one - I am feeling like a bit of a target around here! I have had some other minor calamities this week too.

The food situation needs a whole blog to itself. Needless to say, it's complicated. 7 people with rather different body clocks and timetables; children who don't relish lentils; beans or overcooked and vinegar-drenched vegetables; abuelos who consider food cooked by an English woman to be too foreign to even try; complicated cooking facilities, including limited oven usage. And whilst we usually eat extremely well - it's more by luck than management. Last week there must have been less luck, culminating in a number of less than successful dishes prepared by yours truly - nothing awful, just not greeted with any enthusiasm by (ungrateful) diners (grrr). And then, the hardly-ever used gas oven exploded as I was cooking on it, causing me to temporarily lose my hearing. Turns out that there was a cigarette lighter inside it which we hadn't noticed (hadn't checked for!) when we lit the oven. I guess that could have been worse - and my hearing is back OK now!

And the final additional skewing to my lovely life I put down to hormones. Lots of the little buggers. Whoremoans, as I like to call them. They rose up inside me, they turned me into a screaming harpy for several days, turned everything I touched into dross, set my mind awhirling into doom and gloom.......then upped and left! Just like that.

And we're back on track - and come what may in May, we are continuing our plans to rent a place in Granada and Cesar will be going down there - weather permitting - in the next week or so to view a few very interesting options. So, goodbye Slough - glad to have left you behind yet again.