Wednesday 9th December, Marjal and how time flies.

I Have been doing most of the washing up lately, don't know why but SWMBO seems to find something really important to do after we have finished eating. Her nails, check what she is planning to wear the next day, putting chicken bones in my sandwiches, you know that sort of thing.

I also noticed that it is mainly us men who troop down to and do the washing up. Apparently we have been now officially named as the “pussy whipped” club.  PWC equipment on right.--->

Did our standard 15 mile trip and stopped at our “local” coffee stop, the Rojales social centre, where coffee is €1 and is very nice. This was Tuesday, a national holiday for the “Immaculate Conception”. I spelt “immaculate” with only one m and the spell checker came up with alternatives, one of which was “ejaculate”, a bit of irony there I think.

Anyway because ALL the shops are shut in the whole of Spain for that day I thought I was going to be “shop free” for the day. Not so, I fear.

As we cycle into the town of Rojales on a slightly different route, I heard behind me, “There's a shop open somewhere near here”. “How's that, Pet?” “I can smell it!”

Would you believe it! One of them Chinese Bazaar type shops was open. Well she was in there like a shot and returned with a Santa Clause candle, only cost 75 cents but to SWMBO it was like a “fix” of the good stuff. Got off lightly because I, knowing (wrongly it turns out) that it was going to be a shop free day, had not brought the money wallet, just the coffee wallet. So it was it was either no coffee or shop, I didn't want any coffee anyway.

Trouble with cycling around here is the dust flying about on the “cycle” tracks. Most of the time it's bearable then some Spanish fisherman belts by in his car and you nearly choke to death. We (I) have cleaned and oiled the bikes but after a mile they are covered with dust and start squeaking.

Weather is still in low 20's so most afternoon's we sunbathe, read and doze. I was dreaming about posting letters on cold, freezing mornings along Coombe Hill Road, my hands cold and bleeding from being caught in fast attack letterboxes, wild rabid dogs biting my arse even if I did give them a biscuit. That was not a dream it was a bloody nightmare. Trouble is someone is actually doing it in my place, hope you get some decent Christmas tips mate!

This not drinking (much) on the evenings is tiresome. I mean not only do I wake up sober I actually can remember what we watched on TV the night before! Also as Billy Connelly once said; “Trouble with non drinkers is that when you wake up in the morning, that's as good as you're going to feel all day”.

BTW managed to get a pic of “the dogs breakfast” as previously mentioned and of Tricia actually eating it.

When we arrived we were told to get some “green”, this being a green plastic floor cover for the pitch. So we did because we were also told that if it rained the compacted ground marble, which the pitch is made of, would turn to mush and would get transferred to the MS and be difficult to get rid of. So we did and the guy at the shop asked how many nails, with washers, we needed, I thought probably 20, which was obviously not enough as I mentioned in an earlier post.

The “green” went down OK but when I was manoeuvring the Navara into a better place on the pitch yesterday, I managed to pull most of them out with the power steering and will have to do it all again.

I last had my hair cut about 7 weeks ago and with 2 weeks before we return I'm beginning to look a bit shaggy. There is a hairdresser on the site called Angie, in fact she is on the pitch opposite us. She does a pretty good trade and is very busy especially with the women just before a site “do”, Flamenco, line dancing etc. nights.

She also cuts men's hair for €9, which is not bad I suppose. So I have been curtain twitching at the men who have had their hair cut there. Well I'm not bragging, but on this site, where the average age, of men, is about 65, most are balding or have a “Bobby Charlton” at best. What Angie seems to specialise in is a number one, just straight over with the shears. I have often thought about having this done, where you end up with a half inch stubble all over. Tricia thinks I would look like a criminal and would frighten the animals around here, so I will hang on and perhaps effect a small ponytail?

Just typing this and Tricia stops ironing and goes over to the sink to get a drink of water and then screamed. I thought she had drank some acid or even perhaps some of my beer the way she went on. She just stood there pointing at the kitchen wall and going more and more white by the second. What she was pointing at was a 5” grasshopper (cricket, locust, who knows?) that somehow got in the MS. Tricia freaks out if she sees a money spider so this puppy caused a slightly larger reaction. “GETITOUT!” “GETITOUT!” “GETITOUT!” Just about sums it up and then explained how “I” was to get it out. Well I got it into a large glass and boy the thing could kick and out it went.

Then the inevitable, “How the hell did something that size get in here?” All the windows and doors are meshed and are not generally left open so it must have just muscled it's way in some how. When I said that she should check the bedding she nearly went into orbit.

It may seem strange I know but sometimes we have to get a rush on now and then. Today the planning was to do a bit of Lidl shopping, followed by our 2 hours in the sun, 1pm – 3pm, then either a brisk walk to the port and back, 8 miles, then dinner, WW and bed.

Then someone suggested that we have a look at the Christian versus the Moors re-enactment in nearby Montforte del Cid, a small town about 12 miles away. It goes back to the time when the Christian kicked the Moors/Arabs butts out of Spain in the 13th century or so. Now these festivals go on all over Spain at various times of the year and basically they dress up as, you guessed it, Moors or Christians. Then have marches through the town and finish with mock battles.

Also, as we would pass the LPG Repsol gas station on the way and I could fill up our now empty bottle.

So now it was all about planning, I got out the PowerPoint and put together a initial plan for the day using colour coding to represent order, timing and desired results, and Tricia rushed up a best case scenario using the KISS technique (keep it simple, stupid) using Microsoft Project planner, which as you know is a killer on resource management. Do we cut down on the sun time, would Lidl still be there in the morning and did we have enough gas anyway? Oh the stress of it all!

We decided to forgo the walk and see the festival, starting about 4pm'ish.

Did the Lidl thing and was just settling down for a good old sit and read in the sun when along came, well someone on the camp site who shall remain nameless but can, and does, talk until you have to drop excuses into the conversation so he might take the hint and leave you alone. i.e. “er I have to get the goats in now”, or “is that the time? I need to put more bleach down the toilet”. Stuff like that. Result; listened for about an hour, you must only listen, ask a question and you provoke another ear bashing.

So our sun hour went out the window and we ended up dashing (yes dashing) in order to get out in time to enjoy ourselves.
The festival was worth the trip, we got our gas and arrived back shortly after dark.
Have now eaten dinner and Tricia is now looking at some ironing and I'm off to the PW club.