Monday 22nd February 2010, Roquetas and Maria's back with a vengeance.
Well yesterday it was Tess non stop until about 2'ish then lovely sun, so we went for a bike ride through Aquadulce just down the coast. (see pics)
Managed to fix blog 2 but I'm sticking with blog 3 as the format is much better.
Things are changing around here. Coronation street as it is known, no guessing, is now almost empty because the British are leaving and unfortunately the Germans are staying in droves.
Soon we will be Jonny no mates again if we stay until mid April because even the German and Dutch leave by then with very little Spanish replacing them, except over the Easter period that is.
I'm getting worried about SWMBO, she's taken to reading more and more books about the Army, SAS and related topics. The other day she came in and asked for a “Julie”, “What the hell's a Julie?” “It's a coffee, stupid!” “ How come?” “Julie Andrews, white, Nun”. She'll be putting me on a charge next.
We have been having an ongoing argument over putting up some shelves. (Anyone familiar with the series “The Likely Lads” with understand the nuance there). Anyway these were real shelves I wanted to put up in the cupboards above the kitchen area. So the tins etc. which were piled on top of one another would not fall out when looking for something at the back.
I really don't understand why she has a problem? She knows that when I put my mind to it not all my DIY turns out like a pigs arse. So she finally agreed, I think, but when I started out for the local rubbish dump for the wood, basically all around us, she drew the line. We have to go to a proper shop and buy it, she'll be asking me to use a tape measure and a spirit level next!
A knock at the door the other day and it's the man who comes to fix the electrics every time I blow them out, so I'm thinking “How the hell can I have blown them again, nothing but 12v is switched on?” Meanwhile he's remonstrating and I'm just saying “Los siento”, over and over again. Turns out he's got a sideline and it's selling oranges. 10 kg bag for €4.50 and they are gorgeous.
Another breakthrough, after ages of banging on to my first born (he thinks, remember all the months I spent in America many years ago) anyway, finally convinced him to get Skype going at his end as it's been set up my end for, well, for forever. So last night at an agreed time we both switched on and it worked, right off the bat! Now what the hell does that mean, a real Americanism if ever I've written one, why not “straight away”, or “first time”. I've got to stop watching these American programs. It so pleased SWMBO ever so much seeing her family as well as talking to them AND IT'S ALL FREE!
Not that that was a factor mine you, but when I told Derek L. about it he was practically apoplectic. “You mean there something out there that is free and I have not been using it!” When I happened to mention it to him. Of course the downside is that SWMBO will now spend bloody ages talking to Mrs L, leaving me to my own ends each evening, hang on, where's the catch here, there must be a catch, mustn't there?
This morning coming back from the shower she looked dreadful and said, “I've made a terrible mistake!”
“What, you've spilt my beer, told the German, across the way, you were not in the SAS after all, tripped the electrics, for God's sake, what have you done?” “I happened to mention to Claudio that we can now use Skype and he has it too”. ARGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH! “What have you done!”
Now Claudio is one of our best friends, he owns the Chequers Hotel and Restaurant in the village and when we lived there in our old life, Tricia used to spend hours on summer afternoon's having coffee and gossiping and generally blathering on. Claudio you see has not got a lot to do when the Hotel is practically running itself via the staff. So he likes to talk.
Since we have been away SWMBO, not me mind, gets a regular call from him, again just to chew the fat. Me, being a proper man, do not and actually can't make any sensible conversation about what goes on in the village, mainly because I can't remember who's married, divorced, has kids, running off with the milkman and more importantly, I don't even care.
But Claudio can and does, he's lived there for 30 odd years so he knows everything about anything that's going on in the village. This information is like manna from heaven as far as SWMBO is concerned, or any female type for that matter, it's the way they think, isn't it? Keeps them happy.
But the idea of this happening throughout the day while we are over here is just too much to bear, what has she done?
I could easily tell Mr A. Swan about Skype without the very thought that he would do anything about it, Swanny is the guy who is still looking for the “any key”, as in “hit any key”, on his computer keyboard. So no worries there then.
Today it's so windy that a cycle ride is right out of the question, it would be really dangerous on some of the narrow roads around here. So it's into the truck to get the shelving and some food shopping then maybe a walk this afternoon. Bloody hell, now Tess has joined Maria big time, we may not be going anywhere after all.
Just going round to say goodbye to Geoff and Hilary, who are off up north today and they called in instead saving us getting drenched.
Our TV viewing has been rather haphazard lately, Richard Attenborough's “Life on Earth”, interspersed with “Yes, Minister” and “World at War”, that I don't think the Sopranos are going to get a look in.
Water, what's all that about then, where does it all go, well I know where it goes eventually but where does it go in the meantime? We go to Lidl, God's own paradise may He be praised, regularly and get, amongst other items, at least 6 x 5l bottles of water (at 49 cents/l the cheapest around), get back with them and almost the next day they're gone! Now I've worked it out that we are using about 6 litres /day.
SWMBO, for some reason, has always got a large glass on the go. Me, probably 6 cups of tea and a few coffees/day and we cook with bottled water. Where is it going? Right! I've just measured the capacity of my tea/coffee cups (this is how bad it's getting over here when it's pissing and blowing like hell outside) and it works out to about 2 litres/day. SWMBO reckons she drinks about 1.5 litres/day inc. the odd camomile (yuk) tea. Cooking, another litre, so where's the missing 1.5 litres?
Evaporation, in this present climate, I don't think so, (do we have water elves that come in the night) it is going to remain a mystery but I'm keeping my eye open.
Someone, who was obviously just released from a loony bin, told me the other day that there was actually water in beer and wine! Well, like you I'm a sane person and would not entertain such ludicrous thoughts but if for some reason it was true heaven knows how many litres (we should go back to gallons at this point to keep the numbers in perspective, I think) am I actually consuming a day and why am I always going for a pee?
Just found another ½ litre, she puts it on her breakfast!
Since it's raining I thought to mention, in passing, to SWMBO that perhaps since there's not not much else to do we could you know, er, you know? “I've just made the bed, and anyway your breath smells bloody terrible!” Perhaps my choice of blue cheese and raw onion sandwich, topped off with a good helping of Branston Pickle was not a good one then.
Jokes
Definition of Barbecuing:
It's the only type of cooking a "real" man will do.
When a man volunteers to do the "BBQ" the following chain of events are put into motion:
1. The woman goes to the store.
2. The woman fixes the salad, vegetables and dessert.
3. The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray only with
the necessary cooking utensils, and takes it to the man, who is lounging
beside the grill, beer in hand.
4. The man places the meat on the grill.
5. The woman goes inside to set the table and check the vegetables.
6. The woman comes out to the tell the man that the meat is burning.
7. The man takes the meat off the grill and hands it to the woman.
8. The woman prepares the plates and brings them to the table.
9. After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.
10. Everyone praises the man and thanks him for his cooking efforts.
11. The man asks the woman how she enjoyed "her night off".
And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, the man concludes that there's just no pleasing some women
There was a man who had worked all of his life and had saved all of his money. He was a real miser when it came to his money.
He loved money more than just about anything, and just before he died, he said to his wife, "Now listen, when I die, I want you to take all my money and place it in the casket with me. I wanna take my money to the afterlife."
So he got his wife to promise him, with all her heart that when he died, she would put all the money in the casket with him.
Well, one day he died. He was stretched out in the coffin, the wife was sitting there in black next to her closest friend. When they finished the ceremony, just before the undertakers got ready to close the coffin, the wife said "Wait just a minute!"
She had a shoe box with her, she came over with the box and placed it in the coffin next to the body.
Then the undertakers locked the coffin lid down and carried it away.
Her friend said, "I hope you weren't crazy enough to put all that money in the coffin."
She said, "Yes, I promised. I'm a good Christian, I can't lie. I promised him that I was going to put that money in the coffin and I did."
"You mean to tell me you put every penny of his money in the coffin with him?"
"I sure did," said the wife. "I got it all together, put it into my account and I wrote him a cheque."
A little boy about 12 years old walked down the street dragging a flattened frog on a string behind him. He came up to the doorstep of a house of ill repute and knocked on the door. When the Madam answered it, she saw the little boy and asked what he wanted He said, "I want to have sex with one of the women inside. I have the money to buy it, and I'm not leaving until I get it." The Madam figured, why not,so she told him to come in. Once in, she told him to pick any of the girls he liked. He asked, "Do any of the girls
have any venereal diseases?" Of course the Madam said no. He said, "I heard all the men talking about having to get shots after making love with Amber.
THAT'S the girl I want. "Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it, the cynical Madam told him to go to the first room on the right. He headed down the hall dragging the squashed amphibian behind him Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam, and headed out the door. The Madam stopped him and ked, "Why did you pick
the only girl in the place with a disease, instead of one of the others?" He said, "Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents are going out to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with a baby-sitter. After they leave, my baby-sitter will have sex with me because she just happens
to be very fond of cute little boys. She will then get the Dose that I just caught". "When Mum and Dad get back, Dad will take the baby-sitter home. On the way,he'll give her one in the car and he'll catch the dose. Then when Dad gets home from the baby-sitter's, he and Mum will go to bed and have sex,and Mum will catch it". In the morning when Dad goes to work, the
Milkman will deliver the milk, He will have a quickie with Mum and catch the clap, ......and HE'S the bastard who ran over my FROG!"
A couple attending an art exhibition at the National Gallery was staring at a portrait that had them completely confused. The painting depicted three very black and totally naked men sitting
On a park bench. Two of the figures had black penises, but the one in the middle had a pink penis.
The curator of the gallery realized that they were having trouble interpreting the painting and offered his assessment. He went on for nearly half an hour explaining how it depicted the
Sexual emasculation of African Americans in a predominately white, patriarchal society. In fact, he pointed out, "some serious critics believe that the pink penis also reflects the cultural and sociological oppression experienced by gay men in contemporary society."
After the curator left, a Scottish man approached the couple and said: "Would you like to know what the painting is really about?"
"Now why would you claim to be more of an expert than the curator of the gallery?" asked the couple. "Because I'm the guy who painted it," he replied.
"In fact, there's no African Americans depicted at all. They're just three Scottish coal-miners. The guy in the middle went home for lunch."
