Not without a hitch...but getting the drift...and splitting my sides

I've been trying to teach idioms.

I have two groups of students who will do exams at the end of May and I tell them it's a good idea to earn extra 'Brownie Points' by including an appropriate idiom or two - if they can. And with the emphasis on 'appropriate!

Have you ever looked at how many idioms there are in English? There are SO many! I have realised that since I've been living in Spain, I use a lot less than I did when I lived in the UK. Automatically, I try to adjust my English when speaking with non-native speakers. Idioms are so difficult - we take them for granted and bandy them about willy-nilly. I won't go on....but I could go from here to kingdom come.

One of my students missed the class where I explained that most idioms are spoken rather than written. She's such a good student too and very thorough. She is very organised and likes to take things in the right order. This could have been a part of the problem.

Her written work, which we reviewed the following week was on the topic of  famous people, past or present and I'd asked the group to write someone they admired.
Anabel chose Jesus Christ - perhaps this was another part of the problem - but she also chose to use the idiom that was at the top of the list we had been looking at.

She began well saying that he was a very famous person and that she admired him very much. She went on to say that he had been born in a small village in Israel. No problems here.

Her next phrase was also absolutely fine for B2 English - she said that his mother, Maria, had "not been impregnated by any man".  I suppose that at the time, her choice of idiom at the end of the sentence would also have been quite appropriate....however, I can't imagine the face of an examiner when they read '...and this was a hot potato between believers and non-believers'.

The corners of my mouth are twitching again when I think of this phrase - it will stay with me forever. In the classroom, when Anabel read it out, I confess to snorting. It wasn't very polite or professional, but then the giggles really overtook me and I had to hide behind the whiteboard as tears rolled down my face. Anabel took it all in excellent humour but vowed she wasn't going to risk an idiom in her exam at the end of this month.

And she said I could share her little 'faux pas' on my blog. Hope it has made you smile too.

My mother-in-law's garden..

It really deserves a blog post of its own. In our recent visit to Valladolid, I started to snap a few photos of my mother-in-law's garden. I've always loved this little, energetic, unique woman from the very first day we met and she welcomed me directly into the family. Everyone loves her and she is totally and utterly individual - OK, bordering on bizarre and eccentric! She can't pass a flower bush or tree without sticking a bit of it in her hair; she has an amazing collection of potions containing herbal remedies and oils; she collects elephant ornaments, but only the ones whose trunks are up in the air; she loves and collects old linen, lace, cups and glasses but also a range of utter tat and rubbish that is beyond belief - all with enthusiasm and wonder. She is full of childish whims and fancies and values. And as I looked around her garden, I could see her reflected perfectly in what I found.

Please enjoy and smile at the things she has lovingly, and with huge amusement, collected and arranged around her little piece of home!

I'll introduce you gently...nice ducks

And a lovely photo of Ruy and his grandfather from many years ago. This adorns a wall of the logshed.

Ceramic figure, with leaves (slightly dead ones)

Log pile with hidden plastic sword - the blue brush may be just an accident...

An ladybird as a garden ornament...rather old, but not unusual, I grant you...

A favourite glove...

Strange ornament...and an abandoned sock from one of my children when they were little.

Hmmm, not exactly Christmas time but never mind.

Toadstool house found in a car boot sale and lovingly cleaned up

Intricate collection of old chains and a sweet little doll...

This takes some explaining....

But my mother-in-law is absolutely in love with the Teletubbies,
so hopefully, Lala counteracts any evil intent of the above witch!

And we have Po too, just to be on the safe side....

I challenge anyone to produce a stranger collection found in a garden they know!!

Humerus mistakes

Language is such a wonderful thing. And I love it when it comes out a bit wrong and a new word is made, a new image created or an unintended moment of hilarity enjoyed.

I bought Mateo a t-shirt like this -

 and I laugh every time I see it!

I remember a family dinner - must be about twelve years ago because it was summer and I was heavily pregnant with Ruy - he'll be twelve in a month's time. We ate outside with my parents and my sister and her family at our little terraced house.  Knowing my mother spoke a little Spanish and having the habit of speaking it to my sister - who doesn't - after the plates had been cleaned the first time, FR asked 'Quieres mas?' - to which my mother with some enthusiasm answered 'Oh yes, please!'  Judy's face was a picture of shock and horror for a moment before she started laughing. She had no idea what FR had said but presumed it wasn't what she'd heard - which was Kiss my ass? - and my mum had meant something completely different with her Yes please! No need to explain our sometime unusual offer of seconds!

Last night, we had a lovely evening with friends and we drank rather more than either FR or I are used to. Sam is English and Dave is from Glasgow originally and we'd been talking about making mistakes in Spanish - and we've all made some howlers! Around midnight, we saw a headlamp (and I mean a lamp on a headband) at the gate and recognised it as Sergio with his dogs and a nephew in tow, so FR jumped up and went to greet him, shouting in English - 'Would you like a drink?' A chorus followed him from the table in the garden that he was speaking in English...whereupon FR switched to Spanish but didn't quite get it right. 'Quieres un vaso' is what he meant to ask...and remember in Spanish, the 'v' is pronounced exactly like 'b'...and this means 'do you want a glass (of something)'.

However, this is not quite what he said. He asked Sergio if he'd like a 'beso' - which is a kiss! And Sergio, without missing a beat, wiped the back of both his hands across his mouth in an exaggerated gesture of preparation - for a kiss. Beautiful timing! We did laugh.

And then, later on, just before going to bed, I read a comment left by Janice (in Caunes or is she now somewhere else?) in which she'd made a simple typing error. But it was one that had me pondering for ages! Remember I had been drinking Cava and Oporto -  rather than my usual cup of tea - before coming to this - and I quote:

The beetles, cigales, and toads have visited us in their hoards this year. We think it might be the same toad who keeps coming back to join us at dinner under the pergola....perhaps we should drop a bit of paintonto him to see if it really is him making return visits, after we carefully take him back to the far end of the garden.

It was the word 'paintonto' that confused me. I read it as some special sort of bread used for marking toads. Not so daft on my part as I know 'pain' is French for bread - and Janice is in France...and 'tonto' is a Spanish word for 'silly or daft' but could also be French or Italian... OK, silly pain, I am! It may be quite obvious to everyone else that there is a space missing between 'paint' and 'onto'.

Oh dear, and now it's got me started - thinking about other little mistakes and how a letter here or there can make all the difference. Possibly my very favourite one is absolutely true and a mistake that I made myself in a letter to all 191 Primary School secretaries back in the 1990s. We had just been putting computers into schools for administrative purposes and in those days, we had to send updates out on a floppy 'disk or disc' in an envelope though the snail mail. I remember typing a little note to go out with these things but being momentarily undecided whether to type 'disk' or 'disc'. I obviously couldn't properly decide but my unconscious 'solution' was quite outrageous... the letter eventually went out included the following line:

"Please find enclosed a 3" floppy dick with full instructions for use..."

I should have recorded some of the responses for posterity...especially as some of the secretaries at this time were the blue-rinse dragons of days gone by!

Any good howlers to share??

Wrong fellow for 'Othello'

I was indulging in my favourite Saturday morning pastime this morning, having got dear old FR back in bed with me and the children still fast asleep - zonked from a week by the sea - oh yes, it's nice to get things back to normal.

I was, of course, listening to Radio Four with my earphones in to block out the snores from my bedfellow and thoroughly enjoying listening to Lenny Henry's inimitable enthusiasm and vocal range, when the host of 'Saturday Live' - the Reverend Richard Cole, (a man who can match just about any guest's anecdotes with one or more of his own) shared a memory that made my sleepy eyes fly open in amazement. 

The two men were talking about being in their 50s and chapters of their lives. Lenny Henry has done a wide range of things and I've always rather liked him. He started out as a stand up comedian, is a wicked impersonator and has a big, unmistakable personality but he has acted as well, recently taking on Shakespeare a few years ago with Barry Rutter's Northern Broadsides theatre company with whom he played Othello at the West Yorkshire Playhouse to considerable (and quite surprised) critical success. He's now playing in 'Fences', an American drama set in the 50s ... I haven't seen it or heard about it, so I won't even attempt to describe what it's about other than to say it sounds interesting. He is a wonderful chat show host because he can really talk... 

Richard Coles is a true Renaissance man, giving even Stephen Fry a run for his money, I would say. A quick glance at his Wiki page indicates the range of his talents and interests. Whereas I almost always like everything Stephen Fry says, sometime, the Right Reverend's tone grates on me a little and he tends to talk as much as the guests and I sometimes think he should just stop being clever for once.

However, his little comment this morning made me immediately awake and at the same time, back in the 70s again. They were discussing how things had changed in the theatre during the last 35 years...Richard remembers going to Stratford-upon-Avon to see a performance of 'Othello' where *one of the very last actors to be 'blacked up' to play the title role was Donald Sinden. Lenny, knowing - and impersonating - this plummy, hammy actor to a tee, asked what the performance was like. With heavy understatement, Richard Coles said 'let's say it was memorable'. 

Well, I was there in the audience when Donald Sinden played the part. We'd taken a coach from my college in London to see a couple of plays one weekend. And Richard Coles is quite right. I have no idea what the other performance was, but I will never forget the gasps from the whole audience as 'Othello' pranced on stage and uttered his first lines in a voice that almost took our breath away. Talk about over-acting...the following sounds were of stifled giggles. It was unsupportable and, being a dreadful giggler, I had tears rolling down my face and ate about three tissues in my attempt to establish some self-control. Eventually, there was no alternative - I had to leave. 

I remember spending a pleasant few hours in Stratford after that before come coming back on the bus to London. The general impression seemed to be that it was **'an amazing' performance - no one else had left and I remember feeling a tad ashamed of myself at the time - as if I lacked the critical facilities to properly judge a professional performance. But now, of course, being older and more confident, I wonder that the whole audience didn't start booing and laughing until this travesty was off the stage. The Emperor's New Clothes springs to mind...

But memorable indeed it was - and how NOT to do 'Othello'....or anything else for that matter in my opinion!

What's the worst or most memorable performance of a play you have ever seen?

Post script.
* Ben Kingsley was blacked up by the RSC in 1985 too...
**Having thought a little bit, a few more memories have emerged and I have to admit that the rest of the cast were pretty good. I liked Suzanne Bertish as Desdemona and Iago was played with real grit and daring by Bob Peck. It was just Donald that spoilt it for me.

In the 70s...

For many reasons this last week or so, I should be feeling very, very young. This is despite having had a birthday which proves I have clocked up well over 50 orbits around the third rock from the sun (as Mateo might put it). I'll tell you why in a moment...

It's definitely summertime here. It's very hot. The living is rather easy as long as you know how to manage the day. It has been around 38 degrees centigrade today ( that's just topping 100 degrees in  fahrenheit) and all jobs where we have to venture out have to been done before the heat of the day really kicks in and definitely before about 2 o'clock. And then, we have to come inside our nice cool house, batten down the hatches and chill out indoors, with windows closed against the heat until around 8pm. And then the children go outside and have water fights until it goes dark and we continue with whatever jobs we have to do that require going outside. We are eating lots of watermelons, drinking gallons of water and enjoying tzatziki, couscous and gazpacho most days for lunch.

I know that England is due a heatwave right now and that temperatures are well up in the high 70 degrees fahrenheit - 24 degrees centigrade -  in some parts. And that brings me to my blast from the past.

Who remembers the heatwave of summer 1976? It was a wonderful summer for me as I was in the Lower Sixth at school - which then meant the year with no exams - a teenager with a fantastic group of friends and lots of amazing parties. And that summer before I went into the Upper Sixth and my last year at school really was a hazy, lazy one.

By pure coincidence, my children - and Mateo in particular - have a strong preference for music from the 70s and our days are ringing to the sounds of Queen, Supertramp, Camel, Deep Purple, Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd. It's an absolute joy to me! Although much of my youth was spent playing in orchestras and that I am serious lover of orchestral music, the progressive rock bands of the 70s were more than just a backdrop to the parties I went to. I really love this stuff and am delighted that Mateo has found it for himself and taken it so much to heart.

Whilst a lot of rock music is loud and the vocals are often high and 'tense', it's not all inaccessible stuff - just try a moment or two of this extract from 'The Snow Goose' by Camel - it still gives me goosebumps when I listen to it...stick with it until the wind quartet starts! An excellent live performance all round.




Ah yes, takes me back!

And in addition to finding a shared love of music from the 70s, our new television - via YouTube - has been providing us with a lot of laughs as Ruy and Romy have been indulging their great pleasure in watching old episodes of 'Dad's Army' of all things!

I thought I had probably seen every single one of these programmes, either at the time of their original screening, which I watched with my Granny and Grandpa on the evenings when my parents were out working in the fish and chip shop we had when I was young. And if not then, surely I had seen all the repeats during the 80s and 90s...but no, there have still be a few gems that I hadn't seen before and today has had me sniggering and laughing at the Home Guard playing a cricket match against the ARP wardens. It's been a useful starting point for a history lesson too - at one point, Romy asked if Hitler was an American...

Life in the 70s was great fun as I remember it in general. For me, there was a freedom as I grew up and a feeling that the world was my oyster. There were grants to go to University and I never doubted that was what I would do. There were Saturday jobs for teenagers in the shops in Bradford city centre. I had friends with cars and we went all over and did all sorts of things - including things that we probably shouldn't have done. There were also strikes and black outs and racism; there was Edward Heath and James Callaghan; David Bowie and Bay City Rollers and Disco; there was a lot of hair and some bizarre fashions - and towards the end of the 70s, in the year I went to University in London, there was Margaret Thatcher, Arthur Scargill and the miners.

What do you remember?

Where are you?

You are here...



I love this little map. I love that just now, I logged onto look at any comments you kind people had left me and as my little map was twirling round, I saw I had a visitor from my home town of Bradford.

Can't explain how very happy that made me!

We talk about a small world. Why, if you waved, I could SEE you!

What's in a name?

My sister and I exchanged emails this morning. We try to speak regularly on SKYPE and whilst we could probably speak more often, once we get going, we can easily while away an hour or so without drawing breath. It's good to talk. I miss my sister.

In her email this morning, as well as telling me she was suffering with the cold that hit my mother - I knew it wasn't a Spanish bug - she told me she's off to London for a couple of days tomorrow with some friends. This in itself was no great shock - my sister has a wide circle of friends and is always off somewhere or other with them. What did make my eyebrows shoot up was the fact that she said she hasn't been to London since she came to visit me when I worked at Waterstone's - at a time when Tim W. was still very much in charge, (he interviewed me and gave me the job, making me responsible for the music department in the Charing Cross Road store and for which I will be forever grateful) - and when it still had its apostrophe! The dropping of the apostrophe caused quite a stir at the beginning of the year - though the name remains and Tim has long gone.

As I often do, I'd like you to bear with me on a short detour from the main theme of this post. I'd like to concur with the line in Wikipedia that states that Tim set up a new kind of bookshop, that 'employed a highly literate staff'...the people I worked with at this period were absolutely fascinating and some have gone on to develop further the areas they were interested in during their time at the shop. Jonathan Rich ran the fiction department and went on to write himself, including episodes of 'The Bill' and 'Casualty' and also a drama-documentary for the BBC on Egypt. I have just discovered he is also a voice over artist which doesn't surprise me at all as I remember his wonderful melodic voice very well indeed and having just listened to some of his recordings, I'm blasted back to the past when we worked briefly together on the same floor of the store. Jonathan was a joy to work with, funny, clever, a big softie (hugs on the hour, every hour) with a wicked wit and a real love of music - it's been such a treat to listen to his voice again, even if it's to hear him advertising software solutions and estate agents! I also remember being very fond of a serious chap called Ray Monk, whom I once accompanied to a rendezvous at St. Paul's Cathedral for him to buy a saxophone. Ray ran the philosophy department and is now a Professor of Philosophy at Southampton University with a string of prizes and books to his name - mainly on his abiding interest, Wittgenstein. Elizabeth, who ran the Travel department left to go to Zimbabwe,  Colin, who ran the Health department had been a psychiatric nurse, the 'Saturday' boy was the son of the author Hunter Davies...it was an interesting place to work. (I ran a pretty good music section too.)

Back on track now. At the time, I lived in a place which has also changed its name.  In 1985, Staines-upon-Thames was simply Staines and it was sometime during this year that my sister came to visit. I remember very little about what we did but it must have involved walking into the town centre along Gresham Road several times. I know this because on the last day of her visit, my sister slowed down as we passed one of the buildings on this road and then started to laugh. She laughed so much, she had to sit down on the pavement. She laughed so infectiously that I started to laugh too without having the slightest idea why. When we laugh, we laugh til we cry. So there we were - sitting on the kerb - tears rolling down our faces, unable to speak. Behind us was a building and my sister kept turning round and pointing to the sign, trying to explain why she was laughing but every time she looked at it, she'd start laughing again.

The sign?

THE 

NATIONAL 

DYSLEXIA 

INSTITUTE

Why the hysteria? My sister is only mildly dyslexic (undiagnosed) but all week, as we walked past the building, she had been struggling to decipher the words. On our last trip, she worked it out....

If ever an institute needed to change its name - this has to be it!

Yarn bombing

Google 'Yarn Bombing' and you will be amazed at the fantastic examples of this community art form - also known as guerilla knitting, graffiti knitting or yarnstorming. It began in the early 2000s and was originally focused on making sterile public places look a little more homely and warm - 'leg warmers' for telegraph poles and 'tea cosies' for telephone boxes...that sort of thing. Then it blossomed into more extravagant examples of really rather wonderful knitting - with cars, statues and even tanks being given the woollen treatment.

Catching up with Mia, an old blogging friend recently, I found something that delighted me. She had been to visit her parents near Saltburn by the Sea earlier in the year and was lucky enough to see some fantastic yarn bombing along the pier - on an Olympic theme. I think it made the news in the UK at the time but I really think I'd like to share it again here for those of us that missed it.

All photographs are taken from the Telegraph who ran a photo article at the time - there are more photos here and I urge you to look at them and appreciate the subtle humour as well as skill that runs through the little creations. Love it!

Possibly my favourite!

The jolly green gymnast

Inclusive of paralymics

Not sure this is the best position for weightlifting...

Do you think they'll remember this?

Just wanted to share - made me smile so much. Thank you Mia! Well done mystery knitter.

Allegory on the Nile

I received an email from a dear friend this morning. Last time we exchanged notes, both she and her husband were suffering healthwise. He was having an operation for prostate cancer and my friend had a suspected collapsed lung and was waiting to see a specialist.

I was naturally quite worried and concerned. I have never met anyone quite like Susan and am very fond of her. She was my boss's secretary and joined our workplace just before I returned to work after my first maternity leave. She is perhaps the most dotty person ever - full of fun, helpful to a fault, kind and considerate - and... well, dotty.

As cuts were made and secretaries were shared instead of doled out one per manager, all the secretaries were pooled together and I'm sure that Susan's dotty presence and her droll sense of humour were much appreciated. She never forgot a birthday, always found just the appropriate gift (and I have been the recipient many a time, most notably, my wonderful mug) brought flowers from her garden to brighten up the office and generally made work a jolly place to be most of the time.

What has all this got to do with allegories on the Nile? Well, Susan was a Mrs. Malaprop if ever one walked this earth - so much so, that the other secretaries kept a book in which they wrote many of the little 'pearls of misrule' that fell from her lips. How I wish I could get my hands on that book now! It deserves publishing, so funny it was. 'Susan's Antidotes', we'd call it, of course.

As it is, without access to that book, I can only clearly remember one of these gems - her describing a phone call she'd taken from one of my staff -

"X has called in sick. Again. He said he's pulled his Hercules tendon - I don't know what that is but he said he did it in bed, so I didn't like to ask."

True to form, her note to me about her husband said he was 'having the operation to remove the prostrate'. Her email this morning reported on his recovery - which is great news - and went on to reassure me that she too is getting better and her specialist thinks it is nothing worse than 'chronicle bronchitis'.

There is always the possibility that her idiosyncratic speech was carefully planned to amuse. There were times when I was sure it must be. If there's anyone out there reading who can remember any more from that little book, please do share!

What are your favourites?

A letter to her brother on his birthday

Romy wrote this note on the computer for her brother's birthday. 

It shows true 'stream of consciousness' writing... I don't think she needs further encouragement.

For a brother how anoying you are I would like to make a card

for true loving of a sister as well as anoying as you. Marta and

Iran are very happy for a 13 yerd old brother of 2 anoying per

of children. Mama is seting up all the yummmy food.I hope you

have a grate day of the party because now its yogabugs...

sorry I put the wrong thing on yogabugs theres a stupid

ladiy who teaches pepoel….Ok now were on signal so

awoooooooooo stopit ok done…. I just whant to say that

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU,HAPPY BITHDAY DEAR

MATEO HAPPY BIRDAY TO YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.

Love it!

An evening with Manuel and his accordian

The other evening, Cesar was cleaning the car outside the house - clearly something he has missed doing for the past six months - when Manuel, our neighbour, came out for a chat. Manuel of the piano accordian.

In a very short space of time, during which Cesar had informed him of our own musical backgrounds and interests, he'd popped into his house to fetch one of his four accordians and without further ado, joined us in our new home for a little concert.

Bless him, at times, his right and left hands were working in friendly collaboration but often, the concentration required to play the 'tune' with the right hand meant that the left hand was required to automatically continue the 'squeeze' action which produces the sound  and to somewhat randomly press the chord buttons.



I confess to struggling with my emotions - I wanted to so much to laugh in pure abandon, so wonderfully bizarre and surreal was the music - but actually, we were all very touched by his pleasure in playing for us; his pride in his skills - self taught - and his genuine love of the instrument.

Then he let us all have a turn and we all managed to produce similar mashed sounds - it's really quite difficult to combine three different actions.  The tune is played by the right hand, like a piano - easy enough - but to get a sound, you have to pull and push the two parts of the accordian, the squeeze box bit - in and out at the same time as keeping the tune going. To get the chord accompaniment (the bit I think Manuel needs to work on...) you have to press the appropriate button with the left hand - and whilst on their own, the chords sounded magnificent, it takes a while to find which chord to change to in order to match the tune.

We had such a fun evening - I do hope he comes again. I think he might.

Labels: retired, expat

The other day, I created a link to another website where I was asked to 'label' my blog. Amongst other things, I found I had put 'retired' and 'expat' and it made me think....


A day in the life of a retired expat.

7.45am - never an early riser, I get up after Cesar and Mateo to get the two younger ones up and ready for school
8.50am - kids washed dressed, fed, packed for school, kissed and waved off. Cesar does the morning school walk so I have half an hour to dress, have coffee and read my emails.
10.00am - leave home with a book Romy left on breakfast table. Off to my Spanish conversation class.
10.15am - deliver said book to classroom, trying not to disturb ongoing lesson...but am welcomed in and Romy called over to kiss me before I eventually extricate myself. On leaving the school grounds, hear my name called and see two of my language school pupils waving at me. Wave back and say 'hello' .. and 'hola'!
Listen out for snippets of conversation that I hear as I walk along. Pick up a few really good comments to share with my group.
10.35am - arrive at Conexiones to meet my Wednesday expat group for a Spanish conversation classes. I am the teacher!  Everyone has tried Spanish lessons but found they got bogged down in verbs and grammar, so I'm teaching them the sort of things that they hear on a daily basis, explaining how to listen for 'gist' and helping them to say things in a Spanish way, rather than just translating English words in an English way.
11.00pm - start class minus two members - one having a mammogram and one returned to England for a period - and go over the basics again. This helps to build up confidence and to improve pronunciation. Every week, I add words and phrases - this week concentrating on phrases that will allow continued conversation, rather than simple answers. They are pleased with their progress using this method and tell me of their little (and sometimes big) linguistic successes from the previous week. I am delighted.
12.10pm - class ends, having overrun a bit. Bump into a (Spanish) friend, (Toñi, from the estate agents, who is now definitely in 'friend' category) on way home and stop for a chat. Invite her and her son for supper next week. She says they'd love to come. Wonder what to feed them as I walk back home.
12.30pm - arrive home and help Cesar bring chest of drawers in from car, which he brought back from recent trip to parents' house. Move bedroom furniture around in children's bedroom then and start to put their clothes away.
1.15pm - Put leg of lamb in oven - gift from my in-laws - nice for lunch! Nip to the supermarket in our street to buy some potatoes and onions
1.45pm - walk to school to meet children. See more pupils from language school who almost fall over trying to get my attention. Romy very happy because tomorrow her class is going to the theatre to see 'Where the Wild Things Are'.  The sun is shining and La Mota looks wonderful today - we all comment on it.
2.15pm - return home and prepare lunch - lamb smells divine - we wait for Teo to arrive at 3.15 before we eat. The lamb is delicious. No time for siesta for me...
3.40pm - back to Conexiones  - an English conversation class with Spanish people this time. I get them to say difficult words like 'crisps', 'wasps' and 'unbelievable' - really funny! We visit the English food store in the centre and talk about the different foodstuffs there - like piccalilli, mincemeat and peanut butter. Elena buys peanut butter - she liked the sound of it. We also try some white stilton with mango and ginger - Rafael loved it and bought some; he's a chef and thinks most Spaniards don't have very cosmopolitan tastebuds...he has a point. The hour flies by with much laughter and exchanges of questions, information and knowledge - I really enjoy this class.
5.30pm - back home to take Ruy to his friend's house to do a homework project. Hear my name in the street and see more pupils from the language school waving at me. Later on, he learns a piece on the recorder and practices diligently - his first piece! Romy does her maths and is then really excited to discover Cesar has brought 'Winnie the Witch' back with him and reads it to us beautifully. Mateo studies for his music test tomorrow.
8.30pm - pasta supper for the children then start to get them ready for bed. Ruy seems glued to his recorder and is playing with a very nice tone. Mateo stays up to watch a documentary.
10.00pm - all children in bed, if not yet asleep. Cesar and I sit down to watch a film (in English)

Is this a typical day? Well, with young children in the family, many days disappear in a blur of getting out of bed, getting ready, preparing food and eating, washing (!) and washing up, doing homework and finding time to play, reading and going to bed again. Nothing to do with being retired or being an expat or living in a different country - but quite simply, a typical day in a family's life. I don't feel retired - not at all - and it was a premature sort of retirement - nor do I feel like an expat as I find speaking Spanish now comes very naturally and I'm not hankering for other Brits to talk to - though nothing will take away the pleasure of chatting in English. However, I have discovered a site that provides links to many expat blogs and find we are a very varied and interesting group on the whole. I've really enjoyed reading some of them and will continue to do so.

How my life has really changed is that everyday, I am meeting new people, pushing my language skills further - in both Spanish and English  - working on improving communication with others. I am finding this a very exciting challenge, much more so than I had imagined when we set off on this journey. Add to 'day in the life' the task of looking for (should that be finding) a new home, making where we are as home-like as possible, keeping in touch with friends and family, lots of walking up hills and you get a better picture of what it's like for this retired expat living here in Alcalá la Real.

Must find some new labels!

Made me laugh

Who doesn't know Harry Potter? I suspect that most people with access to the cinema, a television, the internet or a magazine would recognise the face of the boy with dark hair, glasses and a serious expression.


Those of you who know him, his face is the face of my son, Mateo. He's not the actor who plays Harry Potter, he is Harry Potter. If you have seen photos of him on my blog, you will know that he bears more than a passing resemblance to the character.

So imagine our mirth! When my sister was over visiting last December, we were wandering around Valladolid and came across a stall that was selling Mateo masks! Lots of little Mateo faces hanging from the kiosk, together with Spiderman and Batman. How we laughed and laughed and had to buy one. (We cursed a bit that we didn't have the camera with us too, but never mind!)

This is where Mateo would like to be most of the time... bit creepy but better, I thought, than the disembodied face hanging freely!

But this is the real Mateo - lovely boy!