November 28th Marjal & Rojales

Thursday, sat in the sun and read all day, did sod all.

Friday.

Finally did the cycle run into Rojales, a trip of about 12 miles or so. This time we found the proper cycle track which did not feature climbing steep hills and just followed the dried out river (Segura) bed into the town. It involved a ride through miles of orange groves on a mostly tarmac track. I finally got up the courage to nick an orange and as Tricia came by, popped it into her pannier. Unfortunately she spotted this action and asked what I was doing. “I didn’t know they were going to be Flatheads”, was my reply. We both laughed.

Only someone who has a working knowledge of the film “Jeremiah Johnson”, will get this and probably realise what a sad pair of old gits we are turning into.

Trica had notice and took a picture of the river.  It said that it floods once every 6-9 years and it shows.  She pointed down "Oh, look at all those tiles down there it must have taken ages to match them".  I did not reply, Alzheimer's comes early these days, I'm told





Bigger place than we first thought but again we timed it wrong and most of the shops were shut. There was a furniture shop open so SWMBO immediately made a bee line for it. “What the hell are we going to buy in there; it’s all bloody big cabinets and stuff? Why are you going in at all?” “It’s open!”

Now I know I’ve banged on about this in the past but if men are from Mars and women are from Venus SWMBO is from Pluto. Also, women have mysterious powers of recall that I have never understood. For instance I showed a 20 year old picture to Derek's present wife, Jean. She looked at it and said “1984, Tenerife”. How did she do that? I only knew because I had written the date on at the time. “It was what I was wearing, I knew from that”. Hells teeth, how can anyone's brain operate that way, how many clothes has she got that she only wears a combination of, once? I know why Derek, although retired, still has to work as a barman in a pub, 3 nights a week and the week end, he's broke. Anyway Tricia still managed to spend 15 minutes in the furniture store. “I thought we might have needed a magazine rack”.

We did find another shop open and managed to get a pair of matching one litre carafes so that I can decant my gallon wine containers into something more manageable. Tricia asked why I did not get the half litre ones, all she got in return was a blank look. It’s the same look I give to people who have “wine keepers”, what is the point? We also picked up a couple of old, but thick, Tom Clancy books to wile away the warm afternoons.

Which reminds me. Just finished “Pandemic”, by James Barrington, it’s a cracker, but don’t rush out and read it just yet because some of you are going to get it for Christmas. Not you Derek, the postage will be too expensive. I mean 1p per copy from e-bay, how do they do it?

Tomorrow is Sunday and we are going to “The thieves market” to pick up an old Repsol gas bottle. To get a new one is just like getting Calor gas back in the UK. You have got to buy a licence for about £25 and effectively rent the bottle forever after. Here it is the same except you also need a NEI, which is a foreign national identity card. To get one of them takes a lot of time, needs signed copies of your passport, a lot of queuing and €25.

To get one quick takes €130 and a “signing” fee of anything from €40 to €200. Guess which figure it’s going to be? For “signing” I guess you can use another phrase.

So, to the thieves market where a second hand bottle changes hand for about €10.

I also need a new “Euronozzle”, that our friends in Euroland have decided to replace the ones used on all LPG pumps throughout Europe (probably except Calor only UK).

Unfortunately as these things are relatively new, I don’t think I will be getting one at the market and will have to order one from Germany where they are about six times more expensive than any other adapter.

I’ve been getting good reports from various people who have upgraded to the new version of Windows, Windows 7. Now I hate helping to give Bill Gates and MS millions of $’s (“We need some more money Bill”. “Well change a few lines of code on that DOS based operating system and bring out a new version”) but it will solve my “this version of MS Office is not genuine” messages, because it comes with Word, Excel etc. Except Outlook for some reason and as all my contacts for the last, well for forever, are on it I am loath to change from it. I do have a copy, yes it’s legal, of “Open Office” which is free’ish from the Net and has the same look and feel of MS Office so I might change over.

It is three weeks today that we fly back to the fridge otherwise called the UK. Have downloaded our boarding passes from easy jet and are due to catch EZY8668 at 9:20 pm, on Saturday 19th December, to arrive at Gatwick at 11pm. I am sharing this with you with the faint hope that one of our siblings may take a passing interest in what we are actually doing over here and (gulp!) volunteer to pick us up from the airport.

Sunday 29th November, The “Market”

Downloaded OpenOffice and using it now, brilliant! Above this text, you have been reading in Microsoft Word and below it's OpenOffice Writer and I bet you can't tell the difference!

Er' indoors has just been fed her “Chuckie” egg and soldiers. She managed to spill it off her plate as I handed it to her but she caught before it hit the floor, it is food we are talking about here, as close to her heart as beer is to mine, she declared it wonderful and promptly went back to sleep.

With regard to food, we decided to go to the Marjal BBQ, frankly it was pretty grim. They sit you down in the restaurant and start you with a salad and some baked peppers and potatoes, they were very good but it went downhill from there.

Next came the meat section, piece of chicken, slice of ham and three types of sausage.

One was sausage coloured but the other two were red and black, though not necessarily in that order. I've seen them in the supermarkets but never really fancied them. Well I've always been one to have a go with new flavours and it was real food after all, they did not put it on your plate as a decoration, or did they?

The red one tasted of sweet pork with a lot of stringy fibrous things in it, the other one just tasted of stringy fibrous thing, I ate the red but not the black. Tricia ate both and thought they were scrummy. A small cake and that was it, Now it was only €7 a head so I guess it was value for money. We had asked for a bottle of wine and the waitress, who spoke perfect English up to this point, decided she did not understand and insisted that we had the local Spanish wine from a carafe. As we had tried this before and were not keen on it, we kept asking for a bottle of Rioja or Chianti, we ended up with a litre carafe of local stuff. I understand why, it's €5 for a carafe for worse wine than I pay €4 a gallon! Still you live and live.

Sunderland lost 1 – 0 to Wigan, mind you, Wigan did get beat 9 – 0 by Spurs last week so we should have expected that they would have pulled their socks up a bit.

It's actually getting a bit cool in the afternoon and evenings. We went for a quick cycle ride to Rojales and back just to warm up a bit. It was 10 miles and the old hernia did not play up a all, can they heal themselves? Today it's supposed to get out sunny but at the present it's a bit overcast, probably the worst start of the day so far.

Made some soup yesterday from the supermarket pre-prepared choice of vegetables. You get a bit of a leek, celery, weird looking swedes and carrots. No onions, why?

I also picked up a shrink wrapped piece of shin bone from an animal of unknown origin to help with the stock. Got back and added, onions, potatoes, tomatoes and beans. Then loads of garlic, worcester sauce, soya source, garlic salt, cayenne pepper and lots of chillies. It's perfect and too hot for SWMBO so that's all right then.

She still in bed, 11'ish, with a stiff neck? So I decided to take her picture, “If you put that in the blog I'll divorce you!” Would I notice the difference?

Just been out to find the “market” and by George it's raining! Could not find any market so just poodled around, drove through the La Marina urbanisation and it's huge. Then through San Fulgencio and it's all pretty quiet, Sunday I guess. So the rest of the day is planned as follows:- cups of tea, coffee and cake followed by reading, dinner, then a movie and finally bed.

November 26th Still here, Marjal.

Yesterday was washing day again and a walk to a caravan shop in the nearby, deserted, Mall. Bought some “blue” for the loo and sod all else.

Got an e-mail from DHL stating that our passports will be arriving before noon today so we will soon not be illegal immigrants anymore?
Was watching West Wing last night and it got to a part where the president had to temporally step down; and which actor did they put in his place, yep the guy who player Freddy Flintstone in the movie “The Flintstones”, I could not take it seriously anymore.

Lately Tricia is breaking down and crying a lot because she has not won at dominoes or cribbage for weeks, I tried to think of a game that took no skill whatsoever and was based on pure luck. This is so if I lost I could just blame it on blind luck and she would stop weeping, into my soup yesterday!

Found it; Knock out 7, a card game even an imbecile could play. (Thanks for the nod, Alan)

Guess what? She beat me 5 -3 and has been happy as a bunny all day, well not THAT happy, it’s only a game of cards you know.

In an earlier post I mentioned the guy who lead the organised cycle rides, you know, the guy with the sweeping brush and washing line attached to the back of his bike. Well taking to one of the participants the other day; he told me they covered over 40 miles on an outing! Thank God we didn’t go, my hernia could not take that abuse and SWMBO hasn’t even been in a bus for that long.

Went to the local nurse on the site and asked her if there was anything I should look out for if my hernia got worse,  "Do you get any pain when you pass water?"  "Well I felt a little twinge going over the bridge the other day".

It is finally official, something that the wines and spirits buyer at Lidl, and me, have known as a Gods honest truth for years,

BBC on line news has it, so it has to be true and aren’t the Spanish a very clever people to have figured it out.

From a research academy at Madrid University:-

“Drinking alcohol every day cuts the risk of heart disease in men by more than a third, a major study suggests.

The Spanish research involving more than 15,500 men and 26,000 women (Get this bit then) found large quantities of alcohol could be even more beneficial for men.

The researchers, led by the Basque Public Health Department, placed the participants into six categories - from never having drunk to drinking more than 90g of alcohol each day. This would be the equivalent of consuming about eight bottles of wine a week, or 28 pints of lager.

So there you go then (hic), just reaching for that last can so I stave off this impending heart attack.

Now I have just read this (old’ish) joke on a Motorhome forum on the net, but it is so good I have to share it:-

A burglar broke into a house and shone his torch around looking for
valuables.
He picked up a CD player when a strange, disembodied voice echoed from the
dark saying: 'Jesus is watching you'. He nearly jumped out of his skin,
clicked off his torch and froze.
When he heard nothing more he continued. Just as he pulled the stereo out
he heard: 'Jesus is watching, and he's coming for you.'
Freaked out, he shone his light around frantically. Finally, in the corner
of the room his light beam came to rest on a parrot.

Did you say that?' he hissed at the parrot. 'Yep,' the parrot confessed,

then squawked, 'I'm just trying to warn you that he's watching you, and he's here now.'

The burglar relaxed. 'Warn me, huh? Who do you think you are?'

Moses,' replied the bird.

Moses?' the burglar laughed. 'Who would name a bird Moses?'
"The same man that named his Rottweiler Jesus”!

You know, Tricia is “cleaning her bike” andI’m sitting here, in shorts, in the sunshine, listening to Lisa Gerrard singing Heitor Pererira’s Elysium, drinking a large pure Columbian cappuccino and thinking; “Do I miss East Grinstead?” Not really, no.

Then again I/we did enjoy cycling the four miles, via the old railway line, to Café Nero and having a coffee while the rest of East Grinstead went about their daily grind. I do not include Alan Swan in that of course, as far as I can tell, most days he is usually ensconced at a local airport, or port, or small village drinking coffee. Please don’t tell the rest of the skivvies at Air Engineering that of course, they think he actually works.

Me and the daily blog.

If I tried that cycle ride now I would probably get very wet and freeze to death. So on the whole I kind of prefer it here; I’ll have to stop this wasting time now and go and read a book.

Tuesday 24th November, Marjal et al

Monday we went to Murcia, the capital town of the Murcia district funnily enough. Went the pretty way i.e. past building site and men mending the roads. Arrived and spent forever trying to find a parking space or pay car park. At last! The municipal hospital cark park hove into view. Drove down this narrow spiralling slip road into the underground car park, followed by a few other cars. “Err…John, how high is your truck ?” “Well pet, it’s slightly higher than that sign that says 1.8 m”. Back up! I have noticed on many occasions that when we are in any sort of trouble, driving wise, it’s “Your truck”. Any other time it’s “My (her) car”.

Took a little while to convince all the other cars to back up as well, though but. My Spanish is improving because I think I understood everything the other drivers were shouting at us. Using our trusty GPS finally found one that we could fit in (just) and proceeded to “Shop”. Where are all the shops? “Don’t worry (me worry?) I have a nose for shops”. “So have I Pet, if it’s a Kebab shop”. So off she walks in what turns out to be totally the wrong direction.

There were no shops; we were in the centre but apart from the odd hat shop and coffee place, zero. So she bought a hat and had some coffee.

Luckily, (luckily?) SWMBO had spotted an Al Campo at a place called Thader Mall on the way into Murcia, so I was instructed to get there asap so she could have a good look round.

Now all you guys know the routine, basically she wanders around picking up cushions or whatever and you just might get lucky and stumble across a vast hardware store or the Spanish version of Hanford’s. You know and I know, it never happens.

Then I was tricked into entering hell. IKEA!

I have been in one before, the one just outside Croydon and I swore I would never enter one again. Once you get in you can’t get out and you have to follow their pre-ordained route through the store; and there are cushions everywhere! Apparently we only went in because she said I wanted a spice rack, true, but she would see me in hell before she allowed me to have one. So what was the bloody point in the first place then? I’m going to make one on the sly and WELD it to the wall. We managed to buy nothing.

On way back we stopped at a Mercador to get some groceries and as we were loading the car a guy with about a hundred goats was herding them just off the road, as you do. “Get the camera, get the camera!” and she proceeded to take lots of shots of goats which to me, as goats are not the prettiest of animals, was a waste of my time upon this earth.


When we got back we decided to give the cribbage night a miss and had another salad with little thin eels in it. I said I would have a walk up to the bar and check out the cribbage action (action?) so we could make up our minds for next week.
Went up and ordered a whiskey. Now I didn’t order a double, or treble or fifthtuple or whatever. What I got however was basically half a pint with an ice cube. Now don’t get me wrong I like whiskey, if fact I like whiskey so much I have stopped buying it. Especially a single malt of any kind, the smooth liquid golden flavour, the taste of honeydew mixed with a hint of peat, the……………………I better stop there.

Anyway, I drank it and managed not to order another. When I got back, “Fancy a game of Cribbage?” Not likely mate you would easily beat me tonight!

Decided to “map the streets” of Guardamar to find out all the important shops like, hardware, caravan accessories and where to get gas fittings etc. On bicycle, so we could get lots of exercise cycling up and down the streets. Then I found a map of Guardamar that we have picked up from the Tourist information the first day. Opened it up and of course it is detailed with hardware, caravan accessories and where to get gas fittings type shops. We went anyway, but the tight fitting jockey shorts I had bought earlier didn’t really do their thing and my hernia is as bad as ever.

Got back, had lunch and sat round reading in the Sun (22ºC’ish today) listening to about 30 Germans having lunch and getting more drunk by the minute. They are now shouting “Yabadabado!” at the top of their voices, oh what fun.

Passport news; e-mailed Fernando what’s his face and he replied that everything was OK now and we may be home for Christmas after all.

Steak and all the trimmings tonight, Lidl red wine and the West Wing, can life get any better?

Sunday 22nd Marjal, no Sun as yet, bitterly cold at 15ºC.

After the jaunt to the castle we both had showers in preparation for the “big night”, Flamenco dancing and singing after dinner in the restaurant. Well the meal was very good; tapas followed by either, fish or chicken, pud and coffee, all for €12 a head. Chuck in some beers and a carafe or two of wine and good night all-round. Or was it?



Should have noticed something was not quite right when this rather beautiful, tall, slim young lady appeared on the scene. When after fancying her for a minute or two, realised that she was in fact, a he. Not only was he an uphill gardener but the obvious cavorting became a little wearisome after a while.



Then the Flamenco troop arrived. I had seen and heard them earlier in the afternoon, banging on in one of the cabins on site and supposed then to by another bunch of Spaniards having a good, but noisy, week end.



Now I don’t know what you expect from a Flamenco act but it’s probably not far from mine. Tall, slim, tight trousered Spaniard accompanied by a buxom lady of indeterminate age , both in black, both with jet black hair, with castanets and various red frilly bits attached to parts of their bodies. Then there would be a bunch of guys in big hats with guitars of varying sizes with someone else on bongos.



Or if you are a Monty Python fan; “every Thursday night the hotel has a bloody cabaret in the bar, featuring a tiny emaciated dago with nine-inch hips and some bloated fat tart with her hair brylcreemed down and a big arse presenting Flamenco for Foreigners.”



What did we get? A tall anorexic blond in a long dress and normal shoes, a guy sitting on and playing an empty canned peaches box from the local Mercadona supermarket. A very fat guy playing a guitar of which he could barely reach all the strings, and a dwarf as the main guy. Not that they were not good at what they did, it’s just not what I had expected.

We sat through it and eventually paid and left, it was still going strong. It turned out that it “went strong until dawn”.

When we got back, Tricia needed the loo and after a while I heard her laughing uncontrollably and for a moment thought she was again thinking of me posing earlier in the evening with my underpants pulled up to my armpits to provide some kind of truss. It was not, she had remembered a punch line to an old joke.

Young Jonny is in the class room when the teacher decides to have a word test. “OK class; let’s have a word beginning with the letter A, Peter?” Jonny is whispering to Peter, “Say arse hole, say arse hole!” “Apple” said Peter. “Now Jenny give me word beginning with B”. “Say bastard, say bastard”, whispers Jonny. “Book” says Jenny.

“Now, Angie, give me a word beginning with C”. “Say C$%^, say C$%^, calls Jonny”. “Cloud” say Angie.

“OK Jonny, you seem to have a lot to say, give me a word beginning with D”.



Jonny thinks, and thinks and thinks. D er? D er?



“DWARF!…………with a ten foot cock!”



Now dear listener you, like me, must wonder at the type of mind, while sitting on the toilet, would come up with that? We finished off the night with just the one single episode of WW.



Been on eBay and lost a bid for, as recommended by Ron C, series 1-3 of Prison Break, waiting on series 1-6 of the Sopranos. Full series of “Yes, Minister/Prime Minister” and “World at War” from Amazon which will be there, at home, to pick up at Christmas.



As its Sunday morning it’s “Chuckie” egg and toast soldiers for SWMBO and The Sunday Times Online, with coffee, for me. I’ve just read that Sunderland beat Arsenal 1-0, cheered me up no end after playing well and getting nothing from the last few games.



Tricia is doing better and working harder at her Spanish than me. She is on days of the week, asking the time, date, day etc. I’m still learning my numbers.



What to you think this is? (phonetic) Thyehntoh nohvehntaheenewbeh, if that is, you can get your tongue round all those t’s and h’s. In Spanish it’s “ciento noventa y nueve”. Back to my books. Bye the way, its 199.



Looks like we will be staying here a bit longer than planned. We got the “special” once only deal of €299/month inc. electric etc. which lasts until end of December. Then it’s €38/day plus electric, or somewhat less monthly. If you contract to stay for 6 months it’s about €10/day plus electric but they load the front end of the deal so the average is 10/day. i.e. 1st month is €20/day, 6th month is €7/day. So we are trying to convince them that January is our 3rd month and get it for about €15/day.



Thing is when we fly back home for about 3 weeks, we will be paying the bills at home (as normal) but also paying whatever for the campsite here in Marjal, does anyone want a short Christmas break in warm weather? Sign up here; we are only 20 minutes from Alicante airport.



So if we stay until end January our next port of call will be Camping Cabo de Gato, not far from Almeria in Andalusia, which is about 200 miles away and further south.

The Swans were planning a visit to us about that time frame so don’t let them know and they will probably turn up at the wrong place.

It is noon’ish now, the Sun is out and all is well and warm. We plan a cycle ride to the port, which you can actually see from the campsite over the river but is 8 miles away because the only bridge across the Segura river is in Guardamar. The port seems to attract all kinds of people bringing their hopes from afar, like pilgrims to a shrine. Alan Swan would understand.
We also have talked often of “doing an English”, that is, having a proper Sunday roast at one of the many, Brit run restaurants around. If we did I think I would think of it as failing in some way.

Just been up to do the washing up and on the notice board is a notice, well that is where you put notices, advertising a Cribbage club, meeting on Mondays at 7:30 pm. What’s more attractive is that it meets in the bar, job done. Don’t know how we will get on as the Swinhoe Cribbage rules have kind of evolved over the years so I had better take a big knife with me.

Anyone who has actually lived through one of Tricia’s losing fits needs all the protection he can muster.

Been and done the port, back to MS and dinner.

Friday 20th November, Marjal

Friday 20th November, Marjal, dead fish in the water society.

Weather, ‘cos I know you are really interested, 22ºC’ish, clear blue skies.

Well the Swinhoe’s are at panic stage zero plus one. We have worked out that at our present watching level, we will run out of the “West Wing” six days before we fly home for Christmas. (If our passports arrive that is).

Rationing is taking place; I have to beat SWMBO more slowly at Dominoes and Cribbage so we have less time to watch the DVD’s and watch only two episodes a night instead of three, sometimes, four.

So we are looking for some other series to take us through January to April when I’m planning to have my hernia operation. Speaking of which, I have been checking it out on the Internet and it can go untreated for months. It’s basically a dull ache in the lower groin which is also felt as a pain in the left (or right) nut. You have just got to watch out for any swelling because that’s not a good sign. So I asked SWMBO if she could check me out each morning. “Screw you”, I don’t know if she was being ironic or it was a pun. I’ll ask an American, they’ll know the difference.

So the plan of 40 miles a day on the bike is a dim memory now, as is getting down to a svelte 12 stone or so, big fat slob more like it.

So any suggestions for a new DVD series, please don’t hesitate, we will watch anything that prevents actual conversation taking place. Or, of course, we take up line dancing and bingo to pass the evenings but SWMBO did mention that she would rather put red hot needles through her eyes. Tomorrow night we are booked in for the Flamenco dancing and all you can eat for €9 at 7:30, I can hardly wait. Pass me my colostomy bag, please.

Decided to go “up” to the castle in Guardamar, which for a change, for us, was not shut; basically a steep climb to a barren rock so we could have a picnic. We were supposed to have attended the water aerobics class at 10:30 but just could not be arsed. Also you can not wear shorts in the various pools here as they are “unhygienic” and have to wear those tight, meat and two vegetables type, I don’t think so. The view from the top of the castle was quite impressive as the area is basically flat for miles around, took some pictures, coffee in town and then home.

On the way back you see lots of, on the river bank, fishermen. The water is rather slow moving and has dead fish in it, what are they fishing for exactly?

Saturday 21st and because I couldn’t sleep anymore, meaning I’m wide awake and have done with sleeping. (Most women don’t understand this concept) So its 6:32 and I’m typing this. Well actually its 7:37 now but I did start back then; Dawn is just coming up, get down girl, and it’s looking like another “Scorchio”.

Finally realised why the pictures have been slow/impossible to upload. All the other ones in Blog 1 were taken by our Fuji, a three mega pixel camera. Note; just typed that last sentence and “Word” did not object to anything, how the world is changing.

The Olympus “whirly noisy thing” as ‘er indoors calls it, is however, a little more up market and its resolution is about four times the other one. Put this together, with me not doing a bit of “Photoshopping” and reducing the images density and they are just too big. Changes are afoot photograph wise.
Been told by an “informed source”, basically the guy who knows “everything about the site”, reference Wendy “The Oracle” from Bonterra Park. He reckons that when we fly back for Christmas/New year, getting back 6th January, we will be charged at the full rate of €38/night. So that will be over £200 and we will not even be there! We have an ACSI card which is supposed to guarantee a maximum of €15/night inc. all services, but apparently, although Majal is a member of the scheme, they do not uphold it.

So must resolve this ASAP or find a very secure storage facility.

Marjal pictures (I hope)

the first pie

Mr & Mrs PTG

Got there

Phil's place

Evening walk

The lorry park, on the way down

After this I hope to include in posts

Marjal, Wednesday 18th

Marjal, Wednesday 18th




The number on the piece of plastic that Adam had copied to me via e-mail and was supposed to be the key number for the Navara WAS the correct number.

It was VK 00310 %$ and when I presented this to Mr Happy, the service manager in Nissan reception, he just shrugged and said “No”.



OK so we drove to Nissan Alicante again, showed the number to Ana Garcia, a very nice and unquestionably tall women of about 30, again a “No good, leave the car here and come back in an hour”.



Carrefour was walking distance. “I need some spoons”, “spoons?” So off we went and spent the allotted hour checking out and buying 4 teaspoons. I think I got off lightly and I’ll put that down as a win, wouldn’t you?



So back to dealer and €23.49 lighter in the pocket, I picked up our newly programmed keys. I asked Ana if the key the bastids still had would work anymore. “It may open door but no vroom vroom”.



Looked at the label on the new key with the key number written on it. 00310. Now I may not be as swift as I used to be but it looks like I’ve just spent over £20 quid on something they should have recognised as a Nissan key number.



On the way back for the car we had stopped in a café, me, cheese and ham toastie, er indoors, Spanish omelette. “I don’t think that’s salt you are just going to put on your food, taste it first”. As usual all I got was a withering look. She then sprinkled the entire sachet on it. “So how’s your omelette?” “Very sweet”. Rather than just look like an idiot she decided to act like one and ate it all. The two Spanish waitresses obviously think that’s how we Brits eat omelettes. From now on, of course, whenever she orders anything I’m going to ask if she wants sugar on it.



I finally figured out that the problem with the Wi-Fi is not a problem with the Wi-Fi but with my computer. I’m sitting here waiting for the net to respond and SWMBO is banging out e-mails and “shopping” at John Lewis, like there is no tomorrow, so it’s got to be my computer. I8 just hangs now and again and I don’t want to try and “fix it” here because I’ll only end up screwing it up altogether. Decided to load FireFox, same result, so no pictures any time soon.



I tried to load 20 pictures on to Photobucket and it took 6 hours!



I decided to make my special chilli source, loosely based around tomato, onion, ginger and as much garlic that you can peel at one go. I could not tell, or the cheap red wine was preventing me measuring properly, exactly how much chillies, crushed chillies, cayenne pepper etc. I was putting in. Tricia tried some and immediately ran off to the toilet. I chucked some pasta and chopped sausage at it and with the help of Lidl’s best, ate a bowl of it.



Watched “West Wing” the fourth series, we’ve only got another 60 hours of viewing left, and then to bed.









Thursday 19th



Well any problems with constipation are now just a vague memory. That chilli really opened the sluices at both ends. Which, of course, reminds me of a very old story:-



East Grinstead actually has a Curry Cook-off about June/July.



It takes up a major portion of a parking lot at the Waitrose’s car park.



Judge number three was an inexperienced food critic named Frank, who was visiting

From America.



Frank: "Recently, I was honoured to be selected as a judge at East Grinstead Curry Cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table asking for directions to the Beer Garden when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Natal Indians) that the curry wouldn't be all that spicy and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the

tasting, so I accepted".



Here are the scorecard notes from the event:



CURRY 1 - SEELAN'S MANIAC MONSTER TOMATO CURRY...



Judge 1 -- A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.



Judge 2 -- Nice smooth tomato flavour. Very mild.



Judge 3 (Frank) -- Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that's the worst one. These people are crazy.



CHILI 2 - PHOENIX BBQ CHICKEN CURRY...



Judge 1 -- Smoky, with a hint of chicken. Slight chilli tang.



Judge 2 -- Exciting BBQ flavour, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.



Judge 3 -- Keep this out of the reach of children. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre! They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.



CURRY 3 - SHAMILA'S FAMOUS "BURN DOWN THE GARAGE" CURRY...



Judge 1 -- Excellent firehouse curry. Great kick.



Judge 2 -- A bit salty, good use of chilli peppers.



Judge 3 -- Call 999. I've located a uranium pill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drain Cleaner. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I'm getting pissed from all the beer.



CHILI 4 - BABOO'S BLACK MAGIC BEAN CURRY...



Judge 1 -- Black bean curry with almost no spice. Disappointing.



Judge 2 -- Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a curry.



Judge 3 -- I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sharleen, the beer maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. That 200kg woman is starting to look HOT...just like this nuclear waste I'm eating! Is chilli an aphrodisiac?



CHILI 5 LALL'S LEGAL LIP REMOVER...



Judge 1 -- Meaty, strong curry. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.



Judge 2 -- Average beef curry, could use more tomato. Must admit the chilli peppers make a strong statement.



Judge 3 -- My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chilli had given me brain damage. Sharleen saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I'm burning my lips off. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw them.



CHILI 6 - VERISHNEE'S VEGETARIAN VARIETY...



Judge 1 -- Thin yet bold vegetarian variety curry. Good balance of spices and peppers.



Judge 2 -- The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.



Judge 3 -- My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulphuric flames. I am definitely going to shit myself if I fart and I'm worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that Sharleen. Can't feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my ass with a ice-cream.



CHILI 7 - SELINA'S "MOTHER-IN-LAW'S-TONGUE" CURRY...



Judge 1 -- A mediocre curry with too much reliance on canned peppers.



Judge 2 -- Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chilli peppers at the last moment. (I should take note at this stage that I am worried about Judge 3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably).



Judge 3 -- You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn't feel a thing. I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with curry which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my shirt. At least, during the autopsy, they'll know what killed me. I've decided to stop breathing- it's too painful. Screw it; I'm not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air I'll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.



CHILI 8 - NAIDOO'S TOENAIL CURLING CURRY...



Judge 1 -- The perfect ending. This is a nice blend curry. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.



Judge 2 -- This final entry is a good, balanced curry. Neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge 3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the curry pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he's going to make it. Poor man, wonder how he'd have reacted to really hot curry?



Judge 3 - No Report



Back to Thursday, cycled to “Pick and Pay” an English shop selling all those things you really miss and can’t get out here. Colman’s mustard, HP sauce, you get the picture. We have also found an “Iceland” supermarket and it was very expensive. They price most things in £’s and convert to €’s at the till at about 1 to 1. Then on to Lidl and Macedona to top up the necessary liquids. Then it actually rained! Well I counted about a hundred drops and then stopped as it was not proper rain really.



So now sitting in the MS reading and writing and looking at my watch as I try to stay off the juice until 7’ish. My God! It’s 6:47 pm, I’m going to be late opening the fridge door.

Marjal 2nd week

Still Sunday 14th

Went for the 10 mile bike ride to Rojales came back, eat, knackered, Tricia went to bed at 8 pm! I was left to type this and watch “3rd Rock from the Sun” on my laptop with ear phones in, some of it was in 3D!

Monday 15th

Received an e-mail from Fernando Saez from the British Consulate in Madrid; “you are too far away and wearing glasses, so will not process application”. Measured and compared with SWMBO’s picture and we (our heads) are the exact same size. I WEAR glasses!

Went back to the same PASSPORT photo shop another €4 and sent that one off with me wearing a different pair of clear reading glasses, the original are slightly tinted so that might be it.

Forgot, last night I was in the local bar on the site and a Brit camper came, sat down at the bar, and ordered a double scotch on the rocks. After he finished the drink, he peeked inside his shirt pocket and then he ordered another double scotch. After he finished that one, he again peeked inside his shirt pocket and ordered another double scotch. Finally, I said, "Look, I’ve been watching you drinking all night long. But you have to tell me why you look inside your shirt pocket before you order." The guy replied, "I'm looking at a photo of my wife. When she starts to look good, then I know it's time to go home."
Tuesday 16th

Hells teeth! It’s bloody freezing this morning. Looked at the thermometer and it says 13ºC, we are probably getting soft.

Was out riding through Guardamar the other day when this young Spanish kid cycled past us and decided to give his handlebars a tug and then unicycled up the hill. “Stupid twat”. Now that’s not a word I’ve heard from the missus, ever. I wonder who she picked it up from?
It reminded me however of the time she uttered a more basic expletive.

We, the family, Adam and Heather were in their teens, were watching “The Matrix” DVD and it was getting quite tense. When it got to the bit when they were hiding in the wall and a cop thought he could hear something, then the one who turned out to be the traitor coughed. “Oh fuck!” Well the kids had never even heard the wife say “bloody”, so it came as a bit of a shock, I looked at them, they looked at me, we all looked at Tricia, she just stared at the TV and then, nobody said a word.

When we arrived at the site we noticed that there was a notice board and on it was “Cycle with us! Saturday and Tuesdays 10 am”. Well this morning I thought I would check it out. The leader had an upside down sweeping brush, with a tied up washing line attached to the top of it and attached it to the back of his bike. I decided not go.

Guess what? It’s washing day again. SWMBO is obsessive about cleaning things, she even wanted to wash my underpants again and I had only had them on for 4 days and not even reversed them yet!

This also means that I have to fill the fresh water tank and empty the grey waste tank as she washes on board now because we have free electric so she does not have to lug it across to the shower block. I’ve never got time to read my book, busy, busy, busy.

And now by popular request


The Viennese Boys Choir.
This story is true so I will use real names, well up to a point.
During the late 80’s when I was Sales Manager of Gould Computers, we used to run customer events for GUS. (Gould User Group) These things could take many forms but usually revolved about meeting in nice places and having various presentations with the users. I liked these things because, although if we as a company got pilloried on occasions, it usually led to us supplying a better product and in the evening, over a few drinks, we got to know our customers better. Of course sometimes it was just an excuse for a good piss up.
Well as you can guess from the title, we arranged a meeting in Vienna and star attraction was to be the Viennese Boys Choir, not all of them, just those whose balls had not dropped yet.
It was an obligatory black tie affair in a huge chandelier lit hall seating over 100. At the last minute an Australian arrived in jeans and T shirt and was put on our table, at the back of the room and told to wear a paper tie they had given him. He didn’t.

I was at a table of 10 including Derek Leadbetter, my boss, and amongst other people Ray, let’s call him Ray Crawford.

Ray was 6’ 4” and built like a brick shit house. He had a brain the size of a planet and the social graces of a 12 year old. He was also the senior scientist at RAE (Royal Aircraft Establishment) at Farnborough. His main job was testing RB211 Rolls Royce engines in a building that could simulate the high altitudes jet engines fly at.

One day while I was there trying to sell him an even bigger (therefore more expensive / cost effective) computer I noticed a pile of frozen chickens. “Er. Ray what are those for”? “We chuck them in the engines to simulate bird strike”.

Ray also liked his beer and food and at lunch he would have drunk his first pint before you had finished ordering and would be rattling the empty glass on the counter. I liked Ray a lot; he was blunt, to the point and in the time I knew him never told an untruth, I always knew where I stood with him. He was also chairman of GUS so some of our meetings became quite heated, as I said, he told it as it was.

Back to Vienna; after the meal and coffee everybody was told to stop drinking, stop eating, stop smoking and keep quiet as the Choir came in. Very impressive.

So they started up and it was very pleasant. I was sitting next to Ray and he was nodding and swinging his arms about as if he knew the tune/hymns they were singing, I don’t think he did actually because on a number of occasions when there was a pause he would clap and of course it had not ended yet.

It was coming to the finale and Ray stood up, the Choir were really belting it out, Ray was swinging wildly, humming away with gusto. The Choir came to a tremendous crescendo and held an impossibly long high note. There was a pause.



Then Ray farted.



My left ear was 10” from his rather large arse, it burst my eardrum, suffered an instant nose bleed and I lost sight in my eye for a week.

It was not your everyday fart, this was one you saved up for week, had been bubbling away all through the meal ready to meet the world. This fart was up there with the greatest cataclysmic events of all time, Krakatoa, a bee fart, Nagasaki, a mere whisper.

This was the big one, it was a room shaker.

Then the applause came!

I did not know if it was for the Choir or Rays fart, who could tell? Derek pointed to the Aussie, who he thought had blown a raspberry, I pointed to Rays arse, Derek fell helpless into his plate.

Our Marketing Director, Phil Martin, came from the front of the hall, “Who moved that bloody chair?”!!!

Derek and I collapsed in a heap in the corner of the room. You know when you laugh so much it starts to hurt, we were miles past that point, we were actually crying. Two grown men standing in the corner crying.

Bob Torgler, an American Vice President of Europe and our boss, saw us.
“The Choir were very moving, weren’t they”?
I wet myself.

Epilogue
I took Ray out to lunch a few weeks later and just had to ask him about “the event”.
“Well, I was trying to get it out while they were singing, just miss-timed it that’s all, where’s my other pint?”

Friday the 13th!!!!


Washing done and out drying yesterday. Then went into Guardamar to re-register mobiles and dongle, all with Vodafone. Seems that until we did this we were being charged at maximum rate and not the 18 cents/minute after 8pm as we thought we were. So we have spent nearly £55 on phone calls in 1 week!

Today we went back to Alicante Nissan, to get the new Navara key, €125 and probably not as much as I was expecting. As I did not have the actual key number they wanted to take the ignition system apart to get it. I’m sure it is at home or the dealer I bought it from has it. If not it’s booked in for 10am on Wednesday.

It seems that as I did not fill out the insurance papers for the Porsche (it is an old one!) they may cancel, so I asked them to fax to the site and they did! The idea is the Porsche sits in a garage at home for when we fly back at Christmas and other times planned in the next 8 months away. Also as a back up vehicle for Adam and Heather.
Nice touch.

Last night I told the missus to get her glad rags on and I would take her out. So she got all excited had a quick wipe round with a flannel and put her best dress on. “Where are we driving to?” “We are not driving, we are walking”. What I had not told her is that I had heard that the “restaurant” on the camp was doing a “special” three course meal for €7 a head. Actually it was quite good although she is still not talking to me.

Saturday 14th

It’s 12ºC this morning and feels a bit chilly. Mind you I understand that in the U.K. at the moment you can only wish for such a high temperature anytime in the day. Prediction here is a steady rise to about 22ºC by afternoon, I understand it’s a bit wet there as well?

Well, survived “the 13th” without any more bad luck although she did fall asleep mumbling something about cushions.

I hate cushions, what are they for? If I sit in a chair and there’s a cushion on it, I throw it off. Let’s be logical about this, let’s say I’m a chair, three piece suite or whatever designer. I make a chair that is comfortable and you can sit on without putting your back out, then do I scoop out a space so a bloody cushion can fit in, I don’t think so. It’s only women who like them, unless you are a bit of a pillow biter yourself and if so I rather you were reading someone else’s blog thank you.

It’s just something else to spend money on that is just not needed. Anyway it looks like we are going to the market today to get some.

Last night Tricia said, “What are we going to do at the week end?” I nearly spilt my beer. Life now IS a continuous week end, no holidays to look forward to, we are in them already. BTW if you are not retired and this is pissing you off, just skip this bit.

In fact I get fed up when I read in my diary “Bank Holiday”. WE don’t get them anymore, you guys do and it’s just not fair. When I was (gulp) working I used to look forward to that long week end, being able to BBQ and have a few beers on a Sunday night. Now all that’s gone because I can do that every night, it’s really just not fair.

Adam photographed the Navara key and e-mailed it to me, put it on to a USB stick, up to reception and it’s now printed, isn’t technology wonderful? It will certainly save the Spanish mechanics from ripping open my steering lock.

I can just imagine, here’s your key number, unfortunately your car won’t start anymore and they will hand me couple of bolts and a piece of string. Which is what always happens when I undertake any mechanical jobs.

Took the “Dysan” to bits for a clean, 2 screws, re-built my Yamaha Fazer motorcycle engine, 4 screws , 3 bolts and piece of bent metal that did not seem to fit any thing. (I felt it prudent not to tell the wife at the time as we were just off for a 2,000 tour of Europe) Serviced the car, 3 nuts and a hand brush, I’ve no idea where that came from.

It’s probably a good job I’m not a surgeon!

Cycled into La Marina, a local village, couple of coffees met some fellow Geordies and had a chat and then back via Macedona to top up the wine by a gallon or so.

It’s now clouded over but still quite warm. Now watching England get beaten by Brazil on the only English channel we receive here. Choice after is we eat in or go and watch an Elvis impersonator. Tried him, just a guy from Halifax, walks in the door picks up the mike and starts to sing erm…no thanks.

Figured out why uploading pics is a no go, depending on the time of day the “broadband” drops to 2kb/s, so I’ll get them together and upload all at once using the 3G dongle.

Sunday 15th (Is it ever going to end? Am I going to wake up and be back in East Grinstead?)

Managed to pull an “all-nighter” last night and before you ask it’s not what you think. When a gentleman gets to a certain age managing to last all night without getting up for a pee is something of an achievement.

It’s “chuckie egg” day, every Sunday Tricia must have two boiled eggs and toast. We only have two egg cups so what does that mean, yep none for me and I end up eating mine out of a paper bag or whatever. So last night I thought if I did scrambled or poached eggs it would not matter and I get to use a plate. So I said to her “How would you like your eggs in the morning?” “Unfertilised” was the answer. Going to be a dull day.
But actually it’s not; yesterday ended cloudy and today it’s 24ºC and a bright blue sky. What’s it like in the UK at the moment? Just seen the news and you guys have got it pretty bad back there.

Going to cycle to Rojales today, about 10 miles round trip so should help burn off all those calories we ate and drank last night. Also found out that we CAN use our BBQ, apparently it’s one of those rules that are just ignored.

Still have not received the replacement Visa card as promised last week, has it been stolen? Will call them using our new land line phone card that costs €6 and gives you 1 hour of calls to the UK, or anywhere else for that matter, at any time of day.

For the first time since we arrived there was more than just me in the showers, no I don’t mean in my cubicle. I found out that unlike Benicassim where when you hear a flush or another shower is turned on, you have about 2 seconds to get out of the shower before you are either boiled or frozen. Not here, it’s bloody instant. There I was bent over cleaning my feet, checking for calluses as you do, when it went very, very cold. Well I don’t’ think I’ll ever see my testicles ever again.

Luckily (luckily?), I had just finished and the water shut off! The guy in the adjoining cubicle was German and had obviously just “soaped up”, I’ve never heard so many German obscenities in my life. The water did not come on again for 3 hours.

That will teach them not to annex the Sudetenland.

Sorry I guess this is just word association but I remembered a while back when I was in London on business and I witnessed an accident. A car had knocked down a Rabbi near Newgate street; I bent down to ask him if he was comfortable, “I manage, but my pension could be better”.
I keep getting “This copy of office is not genuine” when I start Word, Outlook etc. How do the bastids know? This is a genuine rip off copy I got from a mate of mine years ago. The reason is that MS still manages to talk to your PC, when connected to the internet, even when you have ticked all the boxes to say it can’t. What’s that about eh, it’s an invasion of privacy, that’s what it is.

Marjal and the trimmings

Well blog 1 is at an end and now we start on our next adventure.
(now before we start I had a lot of trouble towards the end of the last blog uploading pictures, well either the wi-fi here is crap, it is free, or the problems are still with this software.  So pics to follow.
The plan was to tour Spain and Portugal for about 8 months starting in September.
Thing was that Adam, our first and only son (I think) was 30 on October 18th and our daughter Eve (only kidding) AKA Heather was due for a “ladies” operation on 12th October. So it was decided that we would wait until 28th to actually “go”.

I was in Sainsburys, getting the last bits in for the journey, steak & kidney pies etc. for Tricia’s “Christ! I need something to eat NOW!" moments, when I saw a mother & daughter with an empty trolley in the middle of the store, in the chocolate/biscuit isle. Not to say overweight but they both could not actually walk round their thighs. It was on the tip of my tongue to say “shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” But I did not.

Anyway, got the Mothership (MS) back to the house to give it a good seeing to, cleaning re-tooling and generally getting ready for the off. I had replaced the old lights with new LED’s and I must say it made quite a difference, as well as cutting down on the electric consumption.

The day arrived and after getting some cars to move from “our bank” away we went.
Plan was Newhaven to Dieppe, only 22 miles so OK.
Saw the sign LD ferries next left but did nor realise it meant 20 metres next left, so we/I missed it and had an interesting time driving through tiny Newhaven in our 43 foot rig.

Got ferry, 4 hours later, off and driving on the RHS. Our plan was to overnight at a Aire on the motorway, which is normally frowned upon because of security problems, i.e. someone could break in and quickly nick off straight on to the motorway. But after listening to our friends from Benicassim, Martin & Kathy, who had been using them for 20 years with no problems, we decided to give it a go. (little did I know?) Also this time, instead of paying a fortune in tolls, we would use non motorway routes. So we headed for Orleans and managed to stay off tolls paying only €2.90 so far.

Now writing this in such a place, 115 parking place’s 10 miles north Orleans, which by 10’clock is double parked and stinks of urine.

Tricia has gone to bed with a hot water bottle shaped like a penguin? And I’m writing this. Tomorrow we head for Limonges.

29/10/2009; travelled about 180 miles to an Aire at Magnac Brouges, 20 miles south of Limonges and just off the A20. Basically an open space next to a pond in the centre of the village. Both fancied a steak but at €20/head for steak and chips, no bloody way, so it was off to Intermarch, steak, salad, wine and the trimmings, all for less than €10. Great steak and now Tricia is in shower hoping the hair drier works with the inverter/battery hook up. We were a little worried about parking where we are but within 2 hours 2 more motorhomes parked along side, both Brits!

Went to check on the gas reservoir and low and behold the gas bottle filled by Ollie “it only cost £4.57” was empty, because it was not filled up!

Changed over the “changeover” nozzle only for it to fracture, I only used the bloody thing twice. Need a replacement or workaround or we will have to buy a Spanish bottle. One full one left, which I FILLED for £7.50, so may last for a while yet.

Hope to leave early, 9am if SWMBO drags herself out of bed in time. Then a run of about 280 miles to next Aire on the Mediterranean coast just inside France.

Cards in a minute followed and with wine and beer and then early to bed?
I keep on dreaming you know. It turned out that we played dominoes and I got beat 5-3, damn!

Friday 30th. Next morning the French motorhome had gone and discharged their black water on the top of the drain leaving turds everywhere but I bet we brits will get the blame.
Onto A20 to Tolouse and because it was a reasonably long run, 280 miles, decided to stay with motorways and tolls, cost about €50 but a lot easier on the nerves. By the time we had reached our destination Tricia had eaten BOTH my steak & kidney pies.

MPG not good at about 17-18 which was down on our last average of 19 mpg, are you still awake?

Arrived at Aire at Locate which is a area next to the beach on the Mediterranean with about 40 MHs already there, €6.50 inc. all services, which means a dump station and potable water, no electric. Moon nearly full, clear night and just got beat AGAIN 5-4 at does, dam, dam, dam.

Tomorrow its off to good old Benicassim for a one nighter, that is if we make it. I thought it was about 200 miles in fact it’s over 300. So early start again.

Well we were duped, pulled in to dump station at a Repsol gas station going south on AP 7 between junctions 4&5. SWMBO dumped her hand bag on the front seat to help me to manoeuvre over the grate. Then I jumped out to let it gush because she wouldn’t. As I was doing so some Spanish bastard distracted her by asking for the nearest laundry? I guess while doing so his "mate" nipped in & grabbed it.

Now before everyone starts saying "should never leave anything on front seat etc. " I completely agree, we were chumps but at a dumping station!
Anyroadup, passports, her credit cards, driving licence, phone, spare precrition glasses, ACSI card, spare keys for everything, €20, and her Gucci handbag.
So lesson learned. (BIG TIME!)

What had really happened was when we left the gas station; we travelled about 65 miles until we arrived at the toll both, “get the ticket and money Pet”. “Where’s my handbag, WHERE’S MY HANDBAG!” “I think I left it in the toilet back at the last Gas stop”. The next hour back was without any recriminations because I knew that somehow, by whatever bizarre reason, it would be my fault. It was only after we had arrived at the gas station and checked the toilet and reception and were on our way back the SWMBO mentioned the Arab looking guy who was distracting her while we “dumped”. The rest we figured out.

Mind you it could have been worst. When we went back, had the scrotes (who now had a full set of keys) still been hanging around, unlightly I agree, they could have nicked the whole thing or at least the Navara when we were in the tourist information office finding out what to do next.

That day, including the double back, I drove a record of 480 miles and we pulled into Benicassim as it was getting dark.

For the first time I met another 5er at a camp site and guess what? It was identical to mind, same specification and Navara. Turns out if belongs to Larry, an anglicised, American living in Somerset and his partner Bernie (female). He had a lot of equipment including a 2m satellite dish and as he 1) had no up rated sticker for the Navara from SV teck in the UK. And 2) no up rate sicker for the KL26RK (5er). Also no “long vehicle” plates at the rear. If he was ever stopped by any Police force the fine would be enough to cover all the drinks at the Police officers Christmas ball.

Met Wendy “The Oracle” who we knew from our last visit, her husband Graham thought we had been ignoring them as Larry had been parked at the other side of the camp for the last two weeks.

First thing she said after hearing our woes? “Do you need any money?” Cheers you up things like that.
Time for a shower, couple of beers and fell into a deep sleep dreaming of planted and rigged exploding handbags and testicle clamps attached to East European testicles attached to 10,000 volts. I’m not a vengeful man, honest.

Still being stuck here in 26 degrees for the next few months has lessened the pain.
Happy (ish) in Marjal, nr Alicante.

Good news is there is a Lidl nearby!

2nd November 2009, 30°C hummmmmmm.

Have been told many stories of robberies in and around Alicante, including breaking into you car while in Lidl! Now that’s just disgraceful, takes away one’s dignity when you are inside deciding between a gallon of wine at €3.99 or better stuff at €4.39 ant outside some scrotes are trying to get into your car.

Have got all the documents printed for new passports and after speaking to the British Consulate, worrying about what happens next, it’s ho hum and send lots of money to Madrid and hope you get new passports in time.

This place, Marjal, is absolutely 5* but compared to Benicassim it is a cyclist nightmare. No cycle routes, so you have to share the N332 with the Lorries and cars, not for the fainthearted.
Tricia is at present cooking a lamb stew, on top of the oven instead of in it which will probably work out alright unlike the last time when she set the oven a gas mark 2 for 3 hours, yep uncooked stew.

Tomorrow it is into Alicante (if I survive the stew, sorry Pet, casserole) to get passport photos and visit a Police station that speaks some English for a incident number to go on our applications. Also will try and fill up our empty LPG bottle.

Other good news is it looks like I have developed a hernia, let the good times roll. Tricia said she knew a Chinese guy who had a hernia and now calls me “One Hung Lo”.

Spent Monday getting used to the place and filling up the fridge with beer and some food.

Tuesday was spent in Alicante being directed and re-directed to various Police establishments until we finally got a “incident number” so we could fill in the forms for replacement passports. Also got passport photos but no duplicate keys.
Wednesday, more shopping and a walk along the beach, place is a little seedy but not too bad.
Got in touch with Phil the Greek and as he is only 16 miles away and will visit him on Friday and get him to countersign our passport photos. Things are moving on at last.

Thursday 5th November

Still warm but blowing a bit. Now we are starting to feel “settled in” and getting to know the site pretty well. Missed the start of the free Spanish lessons by a few weeks so I guess its back to the books and CDs. We are sleeping very well, I mean even I was still in bed at 9:45 this morning. Mind I’m sure we had 4 bottles of red wine the night before and not 2.

Off for a walk into the in Guardamar, the local town/village, so far we have cycled to it but only on the main (N-332) roads and it’s a bit of a nightmare. May also pick up some TV cable (left the 80 m I bought last time) as you get most of the UK channels here for free so I can look forward to watching MOTD on Saturday night.

Went for a short (5 miles) walk into town and managed to buy all the things I had been “getting round to”, inc. some TV lead.

Aerial in and no BBC, apparently needs to be fixed but no time soon.

Finally found a LPG gas outlet at a Repsol garage but the pump does not fit any of the adapters I have. Actually the guy “helping” at the pump was rude and an idiot and just kept waving me away from the pump, he validated my inherent mistrust of strangers. Then agai I probably should have put out my cigarette first. E-mailed Gaslow and they reckoned that the UK bayonet was the one but it is not. So £300, for a refillable gas system that you cannot refill.

Friday/Saturday 7th November 2009

27° C both days. Decided to take a trip down to Torrevieja where Phil the Greek lives.
Only 16 miles but went via coast road and all the small villages and towns, got lost a million times. A lot of roads have been moved, removed or changed to go the other way and GPS was confused. So we had to go back to basics and follow the bloody signs, which worked out OK.

Phil & Sue place is very nice and in a large enclave of similar apartments/ villas etc., most owned by Brits. I was very quiet also, nobody seemed to be around.

He took us on a flying visit to various establishments that had key cutting equipment, no go, even from “Mr Minit”, dam, dam, dam!
Then out for dinner, OK, and on to some pubs. Everything was English, everybody spoke English, English food, English, beer, English papaers. In fact it was England with the Sun and not bad weather.

8th November

Update on theft, the bastards managed to withdraw £2,000, 4 x £500, in cash from our Nationwide Visa CC account, in about an hour before it was stopped. Of course the account is being charged daily the interest rate on cash withdrawals. Thank God tha was the only credit card she carried. The scrotes have not even bothered or haven’t tried yet to get into our current account.

Today is Sunday and after SWMBO has finished her soft boiled eggs and toast in bed we might get some cleaning done.
Sun rise at 7’ish this morning. Quite cold at 15ºC. Climbed to 29ºC yesterday so just wait awhile. Then its drain tanks and put our newly acquired green ground sheet down to stop treading the ground marble chippings into the MS.

Tricia is still in bed (10:35 am) reading Apache by Ed Macy and does not look like actually getting up at all today. I’ve read the book and it’s about Afghanistan and helicopters. He is an ex flier but writes like a thriller novelist, for a true story it is very good. Note 11:55, she is up and running.
Tried to get the ground sheet down but it’s bloody windy now and has been most afternoons, warm but windy.

When we go out I have to move the car from the empty plot next door and park it in front of the MS because when we are out someone may turn up and choose that plot.
So, gets car nearly in place just enough to miss the hitch ball on the front of the MS but unfortunately didn’t, small “crunch” noise and have scratched/dented the bonnet/wing. When is the 3rd thing going to happen?

Went for short walk to the beach so Tricia could practice with the “big” camera. That is the Olympus E-420 4/3rds DSLR. “Oh, I like the noise it makes”. Got some pictures of some ducks and pampas grass, don’t wait for the pictures. I tried to read the manual as mentioned in last blog and its still set on auto and point and click.

On Monday Phil and Sue called in and were suitably impressed by Marjal. Phil used to fish around here and all he could remember was some kind of run down camp site fronted by two night clubs called “Nancy’s” one of them being a brothel. They are still there and thriving. It actually does not come as any kind of surprise because when we were driving to Phil’s “the long way”, i.e. getting lost. We noticed some young, not completely fully dressed, women at the side of the road. I saw one pair and said to Tricia “you can guess what they are up to”. “Well they are probably waiting for a friend”. Yeah, right, a “man friend” with lots of €’s. This is in the middle of the day mind. I mean so Spaniard says to his wife “just popping out, Pet”, and goes for a quick shag at lunch time.
Sometimes they park themselves at roundabouts and as you go pass open their legs. “Oh my God she does not have knickers on; I should throw her a pair of mine”. “Nah, just chuck her a small comb and tell her to tidy up a bit”.

It’s enough to put you off your beer.

I also noticed one of the girls was knitting, yes you read right knitting. Can you imagine the conversation when she gets home? “Slow day Pet?” “Yes, but I managed two scarves and a beret”.

It’s Tuesday 10th and finally the permanent wind (almost gale) has stopped and we can finally get our green ground sheets down. But first it’s off to Alicante again to have a fight with the Repsol garage man about re-filling my gas tanks; apparently the guy on the morning shift is a little more helpful. Then on to Nissan Alicante to try and get a spare key.

Have talked to Alex at Calder Leisure and we agreed that rather then get duplicate keys made I should fit a new lock. Pretty easy to fit by the looks of it, bear that thought in mind dear reader.

Well a good day all round 1) Filled tanks, no bother, €4 each and apparently this time they had the right adaptor. 2) Nissan Alicante is ordering new keys and will collect on Friday. 3) Bought a steering wheel security bar with a key THEY have not got.

Here’s the thing; if they were part of a professional gang (getting the chip from a card needs equipment costing over £100,000 apparently) and knowing there are only 30 or so sites that can take this size rig in Spain. It would not take a lot to track us down; they have all our details so find where we are by phoning each site and asking for us. Then come down wait their moment, when we go walking/cycling for a couple of hours, open door of 5er, remove anything of worth, pile it into the back of the Navara and drive off.

We come back to basically nothing and the insurance does not pay up because we should replace all locks straight away, yep that’s an easy thing to do in Spain. Kinda sobering thought isn’t it?

Do you know the insurance does not cover the cost of loss of any documentation or money? OK, money I understand “Yes, there was 2 million quid in the wallet”. But the documents are the most important. BTW it costs £300 for our two passports.

Back to Tuesday, birth certificates arrived OK from Heather so we can now send the stuff to Madrid, they say it takes 6 weeks, we fly home in 5 weeks and 6 days, exciting isn’t it?

E-mail from Alex, the new lock is on its UPS way. Lock £50, UPS £100, go figure.

Wednesday 11th Marjal

Passport applications are in the post after spending most of the day looking for the Correous (Post Office) in Guardamar. It seems that in southern Spain you do or do not pronounce the “s”, I guess depending if they is an “r” in the month, I don’t know.
So we were sent from pillar to post until we found the bloody thing. Now we wait.

Just something I read recently
“Passport Application”
Subject: Passport Application

Dear Minister,
I'm in the process of renewing my passport but I am a total loss to understand or believe the hoops I am being asked to jump through.

How is it that Bert Smith of T.V. Rentals Basingstoke has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a satellite dish from them back in 1994, and yet, the Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date?

How come that nice West African immigrant chappy who comes round every Thursday night with his DVD rentals van can tell me every film or video I have had out since he started his business up eleven years ago, yet you still want me to remind you of my last three jobs, two of which were with contractors working for the government?

How come the T.V. detector van can tell if my T.V. is on, what channel I am watching and whether I have paid my licence or not, and yet if I win the government run lottery they have no idea I have won or where I am and will keep the bloody money to themselves if I fail to claim in good time.
Do you people do this by hand?

You have my birth date on numerous files you hold on me, including the one with all the income tax forms I've filed for the past 30-odd years. It's on my health insurance card, my driver's licence, on the last four passports I've had, on all those stupid customs declaration forms I've had to fill out before being allowed off the planes and boats over the last 30 years, and all those insufferable census forms that are done every ten years and the electoral registration forms I have to complete, by law, every time our lords and masters are up for re-election.

Would somebody please take note, once and for all, I was born in Maidenhead on the 4th of March 1957, my mother's name is Mary, her maiden name was Reynolds, my father's name is Robert, and I'd be absolutely astounded if that ever changed between now and the day I die!

I apologise Minister. I'm obviously not myself this morning. But between you and me, I have simply had enough! You mail the application to my house, then you ask me for my address. What is going on? Do you have a gang of Neanderthals working there? Look at my damn picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don't want to activate the Fifth Reich for God's sake! I just want to go and park my weary backside on a sunny, sandy beach for a couple of week's well-earned rest away from all this crap.

Well, I have to go now, because I have to go to back to Salisbury and get another copy of my birth certificate because you lost the last one. AND to the tune of 60 quid! What a racket THAT is!! Would it be so complicated to have all the services in the same spot to assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day? But nooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe make sense. You'd rather have us running all over the place like chickens with our heads cut off, then find some tosser to confirm that it's really me on the goddamn picture - you know... the one where we're not allowed to smile in case we look as if we are enjoying the process!
Hey, you know why we can't smile? 'Cause we're totally jacked off!

I served in the armed forces for more than 25 years including over ten years at the Ministry of Defence in London. I have had security clearances which allowed me to sit in the Cabinet Office, five seats away from the Prime Minister while he was being briefed on the first Gulf War and I have been doing volunteer work for the British Red Cross ever since I left the Services. However, I have to get someone 'important' to verify who I am -- you know, someone like my doctor...
who, before he got his medical degree 6 months ago WAS LIVING IN PAKISTAN...

Yours sincerely,
An Irate British Citizen.”


Kind of makes sense to me.

Finally got our green ground sheet down which made SWMBO very happy as she is a tidy kind of person. Funny thing is we had to pay 50 cents for each nail from the local on site supermarket but got 30 for €3 from the town’s hardware store.
We had cycled in and the path is not cycle friendly, so bumpy that the old “Chalfont’s” made a painful come back.

I guess we are starting to feel that it’s time to settle down an enjoy ourselves, that’s what early retirement is all about. But also sometimes I feel like I'm diagonally parked in a parallel universe.

My Mother, God rest her soul, was Irish, well not just Irish but Catholic Irish. Although my Dad insisted the first born would be protestant, me, all the rest, 3 other brothers, were Catholic. She had some real Irish sayings. “Look Son, I would give you a key but if I’m in, I’m in and if I’m out, I’m out” Made obvious sense to me at the time. She went to the bank one day to sign a cheque for £40. She tried to write “fourhorty” but could not, so she made out two for twenty each.

When we moved south she sent me a letter:
Dear Son,

Just a few lines to let you know I'm still alive. I'm writing this letter slowly because I know you can't read fast. We are all doing very well.

You won't recognise the house when you get home - we have moved. Your dad read in the newspaper that most accidents happen within 20 miles from your home, so we moved. I won't be able to send you the address because the last Irish family that lived here took the house numbers when they moved so that they wouldn't have to change their address.
This place is really nice. It even has a washing machine. I'm not sure it works so well though: last week I put a load in and pulled the chain and haven't seen them since.
Your father's got a really good job now. He's got 500 men under him. He's cutting the grass at the cemetery.
Your sister Mary had a baby this morning but I haven't found out if it's a boy or a girl, so I don't know whether you are an auntie or an uncle.
Your brother Tom is still in the army. He's only been there a short while and they've already made him a court martial!
Your Uncle Patrick drowned last week in a vat of whiskey in the Dublin Brewery. Some of his workmates tried to save him but he fought them off bravely. They cremated him and it took three days to put out the fire.
I'm sorry to say that your cousin Seamus was arrested while riding his bicycle last week. They are charging him with dope peddling.
I went to the doctor on Thursday and your father went with me. The doctor put a small tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for ten minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him.
The weather isn't bad here. It only rained twice this week, first for three days and then for four days. Monday was so windy one of the chickens laid the same egg four times.
We had a letter from the under-taker. He said if the last payment on your Grandmother's plot wasn't paid in seven days, up she comes.
About that coat you wanted me to send you, your Uncle Stanley said it would be too heavy to send in the mail with the buttons on, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets.
John locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him two hours to get me and your father out.
There isn't much more news at this time. Nothing much has happened.

You’re loving Mum
P.S. I was going to send you some money but I had already sealed the envelope.

Well just had our intravenous episode of “West Wing” and it’s off to bed, night, night.
1:34 in morning and 3 G&T’s plus the wine.

Tommorow is washing day.