The introduction to us...........................

This is the first blog I have ever written.  I’ve read lots of other peoples over the years and have finally decided to join this growing community with my personal take on life.

I can apologise in advance if you are looking for short blogs with recipes and the like, my pages will be simply about my life, relationships, the daily challenges that rear up and I guess, a general outpouring of all the extra bits in my brain - plus questions and thoughts I'd love your opinion on.

We (my husband and I and our young twins) left the UK when the children were babies.  We moved to France, spent nearly four years there and then followed the sunshine down to the South of Spain.  It’s been an interesting journey, one I’m three quarters of the way through writing a book about.   I’m not sure what I’ll do with the book once I’m finished, but it’s been good putting it all down on paper and remembering so much.

The difference between the UK, France and now Spain has been immense in many ways. All part of Europe but so different  - yet have similar ways of doing things - different languages, staggeringly different beaurocracy (France and Spain seem to share a love of using half a tree for every simple transaction) and people – good and bad!  

In France we house-sat in the beginning, then bought a renovation project – so very NOT easy with twin babies.  Mostly finished the renovation and then got fed up of the constant rain in the north of France,  moved down to the other end of France and rented for a couple of years, moved to a place in Spain for another house sit (nightmare situation), moved again to a house up the side of a mountain where the ‘road’ washed away every time we had heavy rain, bought a cafe bar on impulse (and luckily sold again) and ended up living about 20 kilometres inland from the Fuengirola area.  I use the term ‘ended up’ very lightly as I am already getting itchy feet and now I’ve at last got the Internet at home, the search for something new is beckoning. 

During this time we’ve set up our own businesses – not always easy with not so perfect language skills – enrolled the children in schools (twice), learned an acceptable amount of French to get by and almost hold a conversation, we’ve coped with broken legs – mine, twice – broken shoulder – husband, moving houses and discovering in changing the equivalent of a county you basically have to start over again.  Obviously once you’ve nearly mastered one country, it’s time to move to another and start at the beginning all over again.  So we did!  My youngest children have lived in seven houses and attended three schools, they’ve lived in three countries and are still only five.  Some may think we are crazy and we’ve had questions from people we know about their education etc., but at this point in time they seem to be not only very happy, but can read, do sums, have an excellent knowledge of animals, plants and trees and are extremely sociable with a confidence that astounds me frequently.  

I’ve been writing for about a  year but have only just started to put things on a blog.  I feel nervous each time I post something because i don’t ever think anyone will be interested, so, I hope you do enjoy the tales of our life, and if you do, please write a comment and become a ‘follower’.

How to Rescue a Cocker Spaniel Puppy Thats Fallen Off a Balcony

How to rescue a cocker spaniel puppy thats fallen off a balcony

Now this one is as the title implies is a simple guide on how to rescue a beautiful little cocker spaniel called Rio, he was fourteen weeks old when this happened and, I am happy to say has never done it again.

Although having said that, he never attempted to go up or down stairs from that day until recently lured by one of the twins with some ham flavoured crisps.

Husband was away working for three weeks so the children and I were left to our own devices in the house we lived in that was half a mile up a horrible rough track.  We did have electricity but couldn’t get internet due to a big mountain being in the way, this mountain also meant we couldn’t get a mobile signal, nor a telephone line as we were too far in the campo (countryside in Spanish).  So basically once you were in the house that was it.

The simple rule that I made for us was DO NOT EVER HAVE AN EMERGENCY. 

 The house was ok apart from the wild dogs that lived on the mountain and the black mould that grew on every surface if you didn’t wipe it every 24 hours. Plus a few (hundred) other little problems, but hey, I was in the south of Spain and couldn’t complain.

The house was literally built into the side of a mountain with big concrete posts holding it up.  It was fairly typical of new build houses in the area and had a lovely big outside terrace with those nice white pillars – the other side of those nice white pillars was a drop of about 25 feet down onto the side of a very steep mountain.  When we first moved in it used to make me feel sick looking out from the balcony but you do get used to it.

Now my lovely little Rio used the terrace as his exercise area as I couldn’t let him out the other side due to the horrible wild dogs.

I’d put him out and shut the patio doors whilst I washed the floors etc.,  he’d spent plenty of time out on the balcony prior to this day and had never shown any inclination towards the edge.

You know when you get that horrible feeling and go to check and you were right moments, well this was one of those moments and yes, he had disappeared and my heart nearly stopped because I couldn’t hear him either so assumed the worst.  After a bit of scrutinising and calling, I spotted him sitting about forty feet down the mountainside, I called him and he started whining and waggling his tail and running in circles.  That was a good sign as I knew he wasn’t injured.  I kept calling and moving along the balcony thinking he’d simply follow me along and make his way up the one little track that went around the mountainside and up to the other side of the house.

By this time my twins who had just turned five were there to help. Always useful.  They never fail to amaze me how they can be doing something nice and quietly in a different room and then when you really need some peace to work something out they are right there. Bless them. Lots of shouting and calling and walking backwards and forwards were getting us nowhere.  Rio is now becoming panic stricken because he can’t get up, it’s starting to get dark and there are no streetlights up this mountain.

After an hour of getting nowhere, I decided I would get my husbands climbing gear, or at least a rope, tie it to myself and then to the balcony and do a kind of abseil down the mountain and rescue Rio.  Whilst I was trying to find the rope, I had a freak mobile signal and Husband was on the phone from the UK.  I told him of my current rescue mission and he had a major shout and said that no way was I to try climbing down the mountain in the dark with two little children at the top.  I thought about it for a moment then decided he was actually probably maybe right and aborted that mission.

I am not known for my climbing and abseiling abilities at the best of times.

Sally our Labrador is a true pig.  She will do anything to get her hands on food of any description.  Although she had been on the balcony with Rio when he had his fall, there was no barking or whining or any indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened.  Suddenly seeing before me a dog that is supposedly very intelligent (they train them as guide dogs after all), coupled with her food obsession, a new idea formed.  This was her chance to shine.  She is very attached to my husband and he can do anything with her – alas her obedience ability is limited to just ‘sit’.

I’d cooked a load of vege sausages for dinner and devised a cunning plan of chopping them into little pieces, letting Sally get a whiff and then throwing them from the top down the narrow track around the circumference of the mountain until she reached Rio and then she could lead him back to safety.  Easy.  So followed by my little helpers and Sally we marched out the front door and around to the end of the track.  I threw piece after piece down the track then moved around the top of the ridge  and kept throwing pieces of sausage – the plan was kind of working and she was moving in the right direction.  Sally the pig lived up to her nickname and scoffed every piece of sausage I could throw.  She did look a bit confused as to why she was being given this brilliant new sausage chasing activity but soon got into the swing of it.  At the same time I was calling Rio and hoping he’d hear me from a different direction and work his way along – surely he could hear and smell Sally and surely Sally would realise it was a puppy in danger.

Obviously not.  The sausages ran out and Sally got distracted by a leaf blowing in the wind in the other direction that needed seriously barking at.  After a bit of leaf barking she disappeared off to the complete other side of the mountain because she had learnt on one of our walks that an olive grove farmer sometimes left what looked like scrambled eggs on the ground  - presumably for the wild dogs.  As soon as it got dark every night, she tried to sneak off for an hour to hunt the eggs.

We were back to square one.  It was by now twilight and I was running out of ideas.

I decided that as I had got a random mobile signal earlier, maybe it would happen again and I could ring someone to help.  I went in to get the phone and the rope and a torch, just in case.

My little daughter was getting upset about Rio not being able to find his way back up and I said to both of them to think of an idea to rescue him. 

After a few minutes she said ‘I know, Spot told me’ picked our cat (Spot) up and threw him over the balcony before I could shout no.  Rushing back to the edge I peered into the darkness and saw Spot (who was not injured in any way during this rescue) making his way over to Rio.  He rubbed himself over and around the puppy then literally walked him up and along the track.  It was unbelievable.  They were both safe.

Rio was ecstatic to be back up to the safety of his home and never ever went near the edge of the balcony again, Spot was rewarded with some nice fresh salmon and Sally, well she didn’t get anything because: a) she was the other side of the mountain scoffing scrambled egg and b) she’d eaten our dinner and done absolutely nothing to aid the rescue.

Now I would never advocate throwing a cat over a balcony, would never have thought it would have worked but my little girl was so sure and confident in the cats ability to rescue that I wonder whether cats would make more adept guide/rescue dogs than Labradors.  Just a thought and only speaking from personal experience.   

Nearly a year on and we still frequently relive the great rescue and I swear that cat knew what he was doing.   

Sadly Spot got sick and died by the swimming pool a few months ago but we’ll always remember him as Spot the Guide Cat.

The Day of the De-balling

Sunday 2^nd October 2011  -  The Day of the Deballing

Following on from yesterdays appointment being made for today, we were up bright and early in readiness for the neutering of our three dogs. 

Husband set to rounding the dogs up  whilst I was gathering all the things we may need – just in case – dogs passports, records, our passports etc.  

  

I heard a lot of shouting outside, not unusal in our household as my lovely husband is not known for his patience.  

Buddy, our ten month old cross breed big dog, had slipped his collar and on no account was going anywhere near husband for the foreseeable.  More shouting, kids joining in yelling out dogs names, general chaos whilst I’m still trying to make sure I had everything together.   

Finally ready, I went out and popped on Buddy’s collar and lead and we made our way to the car we bought yesterday.  Buddy is a big timid dog that was dumped in a bin on a beach in Spain and hates shouting, it terrifies him.

Labrador and Cocker straight in, Buddy, flat refusal.  He is a big dog, not sure what breed mixture, but I guess German Shepard size-ish.  After a lot of coaxing and cajoling, he decided I could pop him in the back of the car and he settled down in the back.  Feeling quite smug that we were all in the car at the right time and with the right amount of animals, we belted up.

We set off in plenty of time so we could give the dogs a walk, let them ‘relieve’ themselves so no accidents at the vets, and to tire them out (plus the children) before we arrived at the meeting point with the lady who organises the neutering.

Found the meeting point (a restaurant with a car park on the edge of a main road) and parked up, a lot of waste land all around, very convenient for our three bouncy dogs to do their stuff.

I telephoned the lady to double check we were at the right place and as I was talking, was joined by another lady with three kittens in her car.  Still quietly smug and so far so good.  Being new to the area I am keen to meet new people and make friends.

Husband had gone off with three dogs and the kids and, not surprisingly, a lot more shouting was coming from over in the wasteland direction.  I had just started talking to the lady with the kittens – she seemed really nice – excused myself and went to see what the  latest bout of yelling was about.  Buddy is not used to walking on the lead as he generally just bombs around the garden and has only been used to walking up mountainsides - leadless.  

Husband had done his best with a bit of webbing and made a lead/collar which was kind of strangling him, not sure if Buddy has been mistreated by a man in the past but he really is very nervous of men and prefers to keep away when they are being loud.  Cocker was bombing around having a lovely time and Labrador was being her usual bouncy self. 

Husband still shouting to me that Buddy is useless etc etc., so I tried to help as best I could.  Got Buddy walking up and down the road quite nicely, much work needed and now I am lucky enough to have time again, something I plan to work on with him.

Another car pulled up and it was the lady who organised the neutering.

She explained that we should follow her up to a house, go in one gate, drop the animals off and then drive out the next gate.  Husband said he’d put Buddy in the back of the car whilst I got the kids and the cocker in and ready to go.  Done. 

Suddenly husband is saying that buddy has got diahorreha and has pooed himself all over his feet (husbands feet).  Two cars waiting for us to follow and Buddy is refusing to get into the back of the car, has runny poo dribbling out his back end and I am very aware of everyone watching us.

I got out the car, managed to entice Buddy back into the car and off we went.  Smelling slightly er, unpleasant.  Husband was moaning so much about the poo – that actually didn’t go on his feet – that I didn’t feel it was quite the right time to tell him I actually had it all over my left foot and flip flops.  My quietly smug feelings were evaporating as quickly as the steam of the runny poo on my foot and flip flops.

We followed the cars about 200 metres then went into the ‘vets’.  Now this was not what i was expecting at all.  I introduced myself to a guy standing there and it turns out its his house and he had volunteered to help an animal charity who get cats and dogs speyed by letting them use his garden as an operating room.  

There was chaos everywhere, cats who’d been trapped from the wild, cats that were pets, no one knowing what was going on, no plan as such, just good hearted people doing their best.  The other lady and I stood looking at each other with open mouths as we really didn’t know what to make of this rather comical situation.  

The lady vet was as wide as she was tall with a very abrupt and brusque attitude.  We were told to leave our dogs there and come back in five hours when it was all done.  Simple.

I set about trying to find somewhere to tie the dogs up, very aware that the beautiful gardens with all the ornaments, buddhas, plants and pool could be easily damaged by our bouncy trio.

Cocker spaniel secured, I went back to get the next dog only to find the vet had decided to sedate them all there and then.  The lab got her shot – no problem,  the cocker got his shot, big snap and a yelp, Buddy got his shot – no problem but the vet leapt what seemed like three foot in the air when he turned his head around.

We were told to wait twenty minutes as the shot would make the dogs drowsy, then to leave them and come back.  Again, simple.

After about ten minutes nothing seemed to be happening, the lady with the cats and I were giving each other furtive looks and wondering what to do with ourselves.  The vet was shouting out from the area she was working that we should keep our children quiet because the dogs wouldn’t fall asleep if they kept talking.

Turning to talk to the man who generously lent his garden for the weekend, I heard an awful squirting sound, let my eyes drift downwards to see Buddy having the runniest poo ever all over the mans foot.  His leather shoed foot.  Our eyes met and all i could say was ‘I’m so sorry’ whilst getting an attack of the stupid giggles that sometimes happens in the most embarrassing situations. 

As he moved backwards from the still squirting Buddy, Buddy literally fell asleep in his stance.  He keeled over as if in slow motion and landed rather inelegantly into a still steaming pile.

Now in a situation like this, one really isn’t sure of the correct etiquette.  Can’t honestly say I have ever been in the Spanish countryside in a garden of a guy trying to help, with a vet barking orders from under a tarpaulin and a massive sleeping dog lying in a pile of poo.  Oh yes and with a now dried out trail of poo on my left foot which was gathering flies rather nicely.  

For some reason I suddenly remembered saying to husband the night before that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have given the dogs the massive black pudding sausage that we had left over from the cafe as it might give them the runs.

I stood fast, holding onto Buddys lead.  The guy squelched off to change his shoes pretty rapidly.  The lady who organised the event was fantastic and set to work with a hosepipe and dog shampoo.  I still stood holding onto the lead.  Husband bellowed out that maybe i should do something to help clear up as the dog was in no danger of running off.  He was right of course but I was kind of taking in the very surreal moments going on around us all.

Vet shouted out that she was ready for Buddy, so after a good hose down and a wash, husband lifted him up and carried him onto the ‘operating table’.  Putting his back out in the process.  Not good because though he is a fantastic man, he doesn’t have very much patience, so a rather tense atmosphere commenced.

We were then told that we should wait whilst all three dogs were operated on.  Fine by us.  It was too fascinating to go away.  We looked at the other two who were still looking surprisingly alert after being sedated.  Cocker spaniel then took the poo stance, and yes, did the same as his comrade, but luckily I had kept him well away from everyones feet.  He didn’t fall over but looked a bit spacey.  The vet said oh yes he’s gone and bring him in, but Rio got straight back up and had a walk around.  Vet shouted again that it was because of the childrens voices, but by this time we had contained them in the car with pencils and paper.

Next possible problem was transporting them home, we’d just bought one of the smallest cars ever the day before and whilst the dogs could join us whilst alert and awake, three sprawled out post anesthetic dogs were just not going to fit.

As there were still two dogs waiting to actually fall asleep, we said maybe it would be best if we whipped home and dropped the kids and one adult off before returning in one hour to collect the others.  So off we set.  My rather disgusting foot needed washing asap.

An hour later, Husband set off on the fifteen minute trip to collect.  Soon after he’d gone, the lady organising it telephoned to say where were we as there was a problem with the Labrador.  Taking a big gulp i asked if she was ok and she said there were some underlying health issues and that after a double dose of anesthetic, her tongue had turned blue and they decided they couldn’t operate.  Relieved she hadn’t died – that was my main concern – husband arrived at vets and i got things ready at home to welcome back our little pack.

After forty minutes Husband had still not arrived back, I thought he was probably talking to the vet lady but suddenly we heard our new car approaching.  All ready for the gentle calm welcome, I went out the gate to find a fuming husband sitting in the car which would now only go along in 2^nd gear.  He’d taken so long because something had clunked and bonked and now would only crawl along.  Not good.  We’d taken ten months to finally buy a cheap little run around because I was so wary of every car we looked at - we are complete experts at buying cars that promptly die on us in a very short time.  Twenty four hours is a complete record though.

He said he needed five minutes by himself as he was set to explode so I got the two male dogs – very wobbly – out of the car and into their beds.  Our Labrador eventually joined us and spent the rest of the day sleeping.  

After a couple of hours I checked on the two male dogs who were sleeping to find the cocker had managed to get his head around the plastic collar and had taken all of his stitches out.  He now had a big gaping hole with flaps of skin flapping.  Phoned the vet lady who said it happens a lot and to keep an eye on it and not to let him near it.  Put some TCP or similar on the wound – ouch – and keep an eye on it.

So, all in all the day was OK so far except we now had no car, a dog with a big raw hole and a million and one things to do the following week.

I sent a text to the people we had brought the car from the day before and they seemed completely shocked – they do genuinely seem really nice people.  I put an advert for a local mechanic on a local facebook page that is kind of like a buy, sell and swap page for the local area, its brilliant.  Within minutes I had been given the names and numbers of two mechanic guys who would come up.  We phoned up and arranged for one to come around to us at dinnertime.  Lets call him Jim. Feeling happier for hopefully resolving the car problem, I sat back making reassuring noises about how it was all going to be ok and the car would probably be fixed tonight so no worries about the next day.

After about an hour the texts for a mechanic recommendation were coming thick and fast with a few comments about a dreadful mechanic in the area who basically butchers cars, keeps them for weeks then charges a fortune.  Terrible.  After a couple of other comments, I started reading them out loud and to our horror, realised that this terrible mechanic was actually  ‘Jim’ that was coming around in a couple of hours.

Now I am rather proud of my Husband taking charge of our latest predicament with ‘Jim’, he had a rant them phoned the guy and said we had the problem sorted.  Obviously we hadn’t but didn’t want to add to our current woes by having the car carted off. 

We’ve sorted out a lift from a brilliant man who will help Husband out tomorrow.  All I have to do is get the car down to the garage in the morning and keep my fingers crossed that it won’t be too expensive.

So, for a basic de-balling day, we’ve had our usual share of unexpected adventures, embarrassing moments and kind of success.  No dogs died, two male dogs are now no longer ‘entire’, one too fat labrador is on a diet, lift sorted out for Husband tomorrow and everyone’s happy.  Or as happy as we can be in todays situation.

A Spanish Job Interview

A Spanish Job Interview

Well this has been an interesting week in an interview learning curve kind of way.  

This is how it all happened:

I recently saw a job advertised teaching English in a Spanish school.  As the paper I read it in was a couple of weeks old, I sent a text asking if the vacancy was still open.  I did get a reply saying they had filled the position.

A few days later on a Sunday evening, I received a message asking me to ring the school about a vacancy.  I phoned and was told a vacancy was coming up and could I send in my cv – I duly did.  Having received the said CV, the lady phoned and asked if I could call in for an interview at 9.45am the following morning.  Not convenient at all as we had a couple of things to do, but the chance of paid work with a contract is so slim for  English people in Spain I duly juggled everything around for the next day.

She was very precise about the time so I arrived nice and early and sat waiting in the main office reception.  Ten minutes passed and I still sat waiting, knowing it was now 9.45. 

Now in my usual fashion, although I had asked the lady her name and she had repeated it a few times, I simply could not remember it.  Blank.  Luckily I have a phone with internet so I phoned her mobile, sent a text and an email explaining that I was in the building and waiting in reception.

There are five offices leading off the main reception, all with people working in them.  I’d done my best asking for directions as to where exactly I should be at 9.45 and thought by saying Ingles a few times plus a bit of translating on google, they’d get the message. 

I’ve discovered  a typical Spanish trait seems to be a shrugging of shoulders, holding arms out and kind of emitting a sigh whilst shaking head.  

So I gave up and thought the lady would turn up when she was ready - surely a lost looking person sitting in reception in view of these offices would eventually get someone to notice me and do something or at least ask why I was loitering.

So – best course of action – sit down, get the novel out that I don’t seem to have time to read at the moment and get on with it.  Just wait.

At 10.15 I was starting to get a bit annoyed that I was still sitting there, not angry, just peed off that I was still waiting and my husband and 5 year old twins were sitting outside in the car. My lovely husband isn’t known for his patience.

10.20am and in comes a very severe looking Spanish lady of about 25, kind of gothic looking.  She introduced herself and I said ‘did I get the time wrong’, to which she replied No.

We went through the interview routine and she said that she wanted to put me on the supply teacher list and that she’d contact me at the end of the week as the vacancy she needed filling was very soon.  She wouldn’t be drawn into how much per hour or exactly how many hours but did say it would be part time.  So I left, feeling a bit cheated because the interview was something and nothing, the organisation seemed to be completely lacking and she seemed so vague.

By Friday I’d heard nothing so just put it out of my mind.

On Sunday evening I got a message asking me to attend at 9.30am the following morning for another interview and could I start at 1pm on the same day.  Again, we reorganised the next day and set off through the freak rain storm that had arrived.  I waited for only twenty minutes this time, then we had another chat and she showed me the staff room, was given all the teacher books and class lists and finally got down to discussing a contract. 

I asked how many hours she wanted me for, part time to me being about 16 hours a week minimum.  She then explained that due to a big reorganisation in the school over the last few weeks, four teachers had walked out and left them in the lurch.  She then said that she wanted me for two hours a day for four days.  Eight hours.  She’d pay 10 euros per hour cash for the first two weeks, then go on to contract where I would receive a take home pay of 6.33 per hour.  Oh and that the contract would run from November to May. Oh and she expected me to sign to say I would stay for five years.  And would I like the job?  Now my gut instincts were ‘no thanks, it will actually cost me money to run back and forward to the school – more than I would be earning’, but I said  Yes, though today would be a tricky day for me to start.  She said she’d already got cover for today if need be.

I left the school, got back in the car and relayed the conversation to my husband.  We both instantly agreed that it was absolutely not worth doing the job and if four people had just walked out there was probably good reason. 

As soon as I got home – about twenty minutes later, i sent a message saying that thanks but no thanks and I’d drop the books back into the school.

Quarter past one and  I get a very angry Spanish lady saying I had said yes to the job and I should be there and she would now have to take the lessons.

As we had to go back out to pick up the finally repaired gearbox for our nightmare cheap runaround, we decided to drop the books straight back over to the school, another twenty minute drive.  I felt a bit horrid as she’d been rude but thought that if I took the books up to the main office area, I could do a quick dump and run then text her in her lesson that she had to cover and she could go down and collect them.

No such luck.  

I arrived in the main office to find her sitting in one of the rooms.  Now as she had made such a fuss about having to cover the lessons I was rather surprised to see her right in front of me.  

Wow, can Spanish people go for it!  I felt about ten years old with her ranting and raving. She said that people in Spain would die to have a job like this.   I  tried to explain my reasoning and that maybe English people wouldn’t die for earning virtually zero, but she was having none of it so I  said sorry a few times and then walked out whilst she was still in mid-flow. 

Maybe I was wrong and maybe I was right.  For me the thought of two hours four days a week is not really earning a living.  It would barely cover the fuel to get there each day. 

What has shocked me so much about this whole episode is the fact that although this is meant to be a Private school with a glowing reputation, at not one point was I asked whether I had a CRB check or any criminal record.  Nor was I asked for any accreditation or proof of certification of anything whatsoever.  The gates that appear to be for security were wide open and there is no visitors book or actual reception.  Anyone can just stroll in and around the school and this shocked me quite a lot. Children are wandering around on their own – maybe on a loo trip or something but still alone in a big school with no security. This was a school that I was hoping to put my children into, but having seen how they seem to operate I can honestly say that they will not be attending.

It’s made me more determined to get our own business plans up and running.   

It’s also made me understand even more why the majority of Spaniards seem to work ‘on the black’ and why the economy is failing so miserably.  Cleaning jobs offer more money than teaching – nothing against cleaning jobs but this is ridiculous.

I am putting it down to another Spanish experience.  Unless I’d gone I wouldn’t have realised how completely slack this school is, whether others are the same I don’t know, but its making a strong case in my brain for continuing teaching my two little ones at home.

I won’t give up on gaining lawful part time employment.  Every simple thing we do in Spain is a fascinating insight into the way everything works.  Not a particularly inspiring insight but makes me more aware and as I said before, another Spanish experience!