Sunday with the Spanish Dingles

Rich had to go into work as he's had a brain wave idea about the generator he's building. Not sure what the brain wave was and TBH, wasn't particularly interested at 8.00am on a Sunday morning.

We meet at around 11.00 near the Rastro in El Vergel and wander across the road to the Rastro (car boot type thing). Straight away we're contending with people with little dogs, getting pulled and yanked by their owners and nearly getting stepped on by people who, amazingly are actually interested in the stalls filled with items rescued from the bins. Saw a wonderful empty coke bottle for sale and a few empty whiskey bottles and although was tempted to buy, refrained. We're soon negotiating people in wheel chairs, mobility scooters and pushchairs (I've never seen so many in one place) and even a few old women on crutches! WTF! One woman on crutches was so bloody fast that she overtook us! Why, oh why do they bring these people to the market? Why would anybody want to get jostled about just to look at some rubbish on tables? Why not just sit them outside the bins? They could get the rubbish for free! Better still take them somewhere nice, like the beach.

A rather showy looking, white, standard poodle passed by, with its equally beautifully groomed owner. It sported a cutesy little ponytail in its head, complete with little pink ribbons but when it over took us it had clinkers attached to its bum! Why spend so much money and time on a well groomed pooch and then embarrass it by not sorting its bum bum out? Poor old Pheobe Trixabelle or what ever it was called, the shame!

THEN!!!! A bike (my favorite), a bloody woman pushing a bike through the crowds, spiking many whilst barging her way through! Unbelievable. Never mind, I thought, at least the fruit & veg will be OK. WRONG! Brown bananas, bruised apples and limp lettuce. There were some rather nice plants on one stall but at this stage, feeling very claustrophobic, hot, sweaty & irate, I couldn't face hauling it though the obstacles.

Only one thing could make this trip a little better and that's the Chinese bizarre so off we go, in our cars, park miles away, hike to the chincy and yep, it was closed!

Determined not to spend the day in, we drive home and I make a hastily put together picnic and we decide to go sight seeing around the Vall D'Ebo. We fill up with fuel and off we go. I must point out that Rich and I aren't the best at sight seeing and when we didn't find Caves in the first village we came across, we settled for a castle. In we drove, looked at the crowded car park, looked at the castle, looked at the hike up to the castle and swiftly drove back out again. We drove around mountains in search of some caves or perhaps a Lagoon or even a pond where we could stop and have the picnic but had to settle for a Font. We sat on a cold, stone wall watching the water drip out, a drop at a time and watched the tadpoles swim in and out of the algae. Didn't really fancy the 'fresh' mountain water but thankfully I'd packed a sprite. Rich ate his tuna mayo sandwich, on white and I had a handful of peanuts. We took the obligatory selfie, to prove we'd made it out of the house and off we went.

We got quite excited at one point in some remote village, as we saw a sign for a monument but it turned out to be a metal lions head on a wall with water coming out of its mouth, far more water than was at the font. We also saw a tall rock with a hole in the top. It was a far distance from where we were and Rich was unwilling to actually get out of the car to investigate so he took a photo through the window.

All this excitement was too much so we went for the yearly trip to the beach. Found a beautiful sandy beach which was practically empty and went and sat, leaning against some wooden things. Were soon joined by an aging black dog, attached to a pink lead. Had a long cuddle with the elderly dog, slagged off her condition a bit, before realising the owner was sat the other side of the wooden thing, Ooops. Took a quick selfie and hastily retreated back to the car and home for a roast which didn't happen because the meat hadn't defrosted, so jacket potatoes went in the oven for an hour before I realised the gas had run out in the oven and we still had raw potatoes! Cheese on toast it was!!!!!

Still have sand in our shoes to remember our time on the beach.

New Metaphor for Sex

‘I scored last night’, ‘I got to base 1, 2^nd base & home run, strike out, pitching, catching’, ‘Any hole is a goal’, ‘if there's grass on the wicket, lets play cricket’. All these sayings are used to describe sexual acts. I’m sure there are many more but have you noticed they are all about competing. Is sex about competing? Maybe if you are a 14 year old boy (or maybe younger these days) bragging to your mates about fingering Courtney Hughes from class East 2, behind the bikes sheds or maybe the girls also do the bragging these days or maybe both. But my point is, with sayings like these, which I know have been around for years, it gives youngsters the impression that sexual activity is competitive.

I think what we need is a new metaphor for sex.

 Maybe something like ‘ We had tapas’ could be the same as base 1-2. You know a variety or little starters (foreplay). 

 ‘ We shared a pizza’ for base 3,that implies it was something you both enjoy and share and lets be honest if you are willing to share a pizza, particularly with extra cheese and chilli’s then it must involve a certain degree of love.

‘We participated in Cheesecake’ would be something very special that you would only share with somebody you trusted implicitly!!!!

I wonder is Pizza is on the menu tonight in my house???????

Horse Whispering!

I first learnt about horse whispering in 2009. I’d opened a horse rescue centre with a very talented lady called D. Her real name was …………….. but D was her Buddhist name, which I must admit I didn’t understand at the time. D was a new friend of mine and although her personality traits and views were alien to me, I was secretly intrigued. I was a little bit scared by her oversizes tattoo on her arm of some Indian chief, I think, I didn’t dare look at it for too long and it took a long time to follow her example, to only see good in people and understand why they are like they are, but I have to say that lady changed my life.  So much so I left my abusive relationship, along with the Horse Sanctuary, walked out of a million euro house, in the clothes I was wearing and never looked back, but that’s another story. Thank you D, you gave me the strength!

D, in my eyes was the most beautiful, kind person I’d ever met and I was truly in awe of her. D was undertaking a Natural Horsemanship course (Monty Roberts), which I had witnessed in Ireland a few years before and straight after, went out and bought a duly headcollar and expected my horses to suddenly become magically well behaved, well mannered and orderly, after a few tugs on the rope, attached to the headcollar, which was red, incidently. After probably two attempts, I can’t really remember and being stamped on by a rearing horse resulting in a broken toe, it was hung up in the tack room in Ireland, long forgotten, where it still probably resides, under years worth of dust.

NH as I’ll call it was a bit ‘out there’ at this time. It involved, amongst other things, riding your horse without a bit! Yep no control (through pain). Some just thought it a kind of hippy thing that would pass, After each course, D would come back and practise what she’d learnt, with me on the side lines taking it all in. The first thing she learnt was an exercise called ‘join up’. Basically (all you horsey types don’t get arsey if I’ve got this a little wrong) you bring the horse into a paddock wearing a headcollar and lead rope, bring it to the centre, move it to face north, then east then south then west, release it and chase it away. Every time the horse stops you chase it away from you. You get very red faced, out of breath and sweaty (you must wear your hard hat for safety, of course and to add to your sweat), then eventually the horses ears start twitching, the one nearest  to you comes forward (or was it backwards?), once this happens you then start strutting forwards with your arms folded,  head down, not making eye contact and eventually the horse comes up behind you and puts its nose on your shoulder and follows you. Unbelievable????

I did a lot of research into this NH and started to apply it to all aspects of my life. Poor Rich never stood a chance, after he met me. I didn’t exactly have him galloping around the paddock  with me banishing a long schooling whip, red faced and about to cardiac arrest, no. but every time he said he was wanting to go down the pub (something we couldn’t afford to do at the time) I told him to go. ‘ Yeah you go out and have a fantastic time. In fact why don’t you treat yourself to a nice lads night out in Benidorm, go on fuck off!!!!’ I simpered in my sweetest voice. He didn’t know what had hit him (not the whip by the way,) a woman who was standing before him, freshly out of the shower, in a silk nighty, encouraging him to go out on the piss. As expected he never did go out, although I always tried to encourage it!

I’ve had so much fun over the last few years using  NH on people. Well not so much fun but its enabled me to get exactly what I want in life without a fight. I just wish I’d known about it when my kids were young. When Harry was young and laying on the tiled floor of Tescos in Naas, which was covered in wet, muddy foot prints (it always rains in Ireland),waving his little legs and screaming at the top of his voice ‘ I want a bithcuit, give me a bithcuit, a chocolate bithcuit Mummy’, instead of dragging him by the arms, minus my intended shopping, out into the rain and into the car where I could yell at him in the privacy of my RAV 4, I could have got down on the floor with him and waved my legs about shouting& screaming ‘I want a bithcuit Harry’. Now that would have been much more fun and I bet he’d have got up and run away in embarrassment. I may never have been able to show my face again in that particular Tescos but to be honest it was a close call anyway, after dragging my screaming child, whose arms were rotating like a helicopter and legs treading invisible water at high speed!

Rich had seen me practise my NH at many dinner parties & event. My party piece involved parading husbands around lounges and chasing them with an imaginery whips only for them to start following me around like horses. However he wasn't really buying it, actually working on horses. So, when we got our first horse, I showed him (in a fashion as I’m no expert) how it works and thank goodness, to my surprise, as much as his, it did (thank you DD). I now do it with all my horses (& all the people I come into contact with),which in theory puts me in charge!

ps Sorry to all the husbands involved.

Viva Espana

We had Mark & Caroline, our best friends come up all the way from Murcia to celebrate Marks birthday, this weekend. Mark was celebrating 57 years but Caroline couldn't get the number 5 & 7 for his cake, a home baked fruit loaf, which she showed off about no end (bloody Delia), so she got 6 & 0 and wrote -3 on it! Nutter!

It was down to me to book somewhere to go on Saturday night (no pressure then) and I thought it maybe nice to go somewhere with a bit of music, not too far away so we could get a taxi. I just happened to be reading Female Focus, which we advertise in, don't get any customers from it but hey, it gets the name out there, when I saw an advert for a dinner dance on a Saturday night at Viva Espana. Now I'd been to this place many years ago (very touristy), we were meant to see the dancing horses which I actually think is terribly cruel and unnecessary but thankfully it rained and they put on an impromptu flamenco show which was a lot of stomping around on a stage above our heads, the noise was awful to be honest. I don't remember anything else about the night so I figured it was a safe bet as it couldn't have been too terrible.

We arrived at the restaurant at ten to nine, bloody starving, as us Brits do like to have our dinner at a sensible time, not the middle of the night. Thought we may have got the wrong night as the place was empty apart from a few staff faffing around putting bowls of salads in the middle of tables and a guy behind the bar that spent the whole night obsessively cleaning it. However we were soon greeted by a very pleasant Spanish lady who took us to our table. Abba was belting out over the PA system (that was a good sign, our type of music). Red wine was on the table but we soon ordered more, a bottle of white for me and some beers for the men. The waiter arrived. It took a while to remember who he reminded us of, it was somebody off the Adams family. We did kind of think maybe he was really an undertaker, he looked like the living dead and was moonlighting as a waiter to drum up a bit of business. Rich caught him outside knocking back 3 red wines in a row, when he went out for  fag!

Abba type music was still playing as the diners started arriving. Most of them were in big groups, all of them were Spanish, most of the men wore cream chinos, most of the women had orange hair and ALL of them were over 60! We stuck out like a sore thumb being the only guiri's ( not a complimentary word for foreigners) here.

The starters arrived. I'd asked for vegetarian when I booked. It was tapas. We weren't expecting much as it was mass produced but the quality was amazing. We even got Rich eating a little crunchy fishy! Had to take a photo as proof! The mains didn't disappoint, tuna steak and a vegetarian paella for me! Amazing! I can't believe I got a vegetarian dish that wasn't tuna (Spanish think tuna is a vegetable). dessert was just up my street, too, lemon sorbet. Yummmmmm!

Just as the dinner finished and I was about to fall asleep, I can't seem to manage dinner, alcohol and staying awake unless I'm dancing, the music started. It was quite a surreal experience. As the music started, the men in their cream chinos, got up mid conversation, as did the orange haired women, went to the dance floor and started shuffling about with their hands around their women who were all much shorter than the men, so their hands covered their dowagers humps! It was all Spanish, old fashioned music. It was a bit like being time warped back to the Franco era.They then sat down and repeated the process through out the night.

The only exception to this robot programmed dancing was a trio, 2 women and a man of about 100, in the middle, who continuously line danced at the edge of the dance floor, same steps to every song, straight faces, very serious business. After about 2 songs a vision in black appeared. Black tight trousers, black shirt, gold belt and an array of gold medallions. We'd noticed him earlier, looking rather glum sitting at a table for two with a Mary from Coronation street look alike who was tightly packed into a black sequin number. I just presumed they hated each other or hated their pork chops or something. The vison who was an ugly version of Mateo off of Benidorm hit the floor BIG style, arms waving, hips swinging, at one point we thought they may have been hired as the entertainment. 'Mary' soon joined him and they got right into character, he even snogged Mary when the part required it, even though he was very obviously gay. He loved the bull fighting song where he even did the bulls ears with his fingers.

Suddenly, 'You better shape up' (Grease) came on in Spanish and before we knew it, Caroline and I were dancing our way to the dance floor, you know where you do that kind of skip thing with your arms flapping a bit until you find a spot, not next to anybody that can actually dance and in hind sight not next to an oversized mirror where you can witness how bad your dancing actually is. I'd got the giggles by this stage and my trousers were nearly falling down and I was trying not to wet myself. We got right into it, shouting the 'woo woo woo' or was it 'woo hoo hoo?' bits as they were the only words we knew. This caused uncontrollable laughter, so much so that we had to sit down.

Next came 'Achy breaky heart' in Spanish where the whole dance floor started line dancing, they all knew the steps, bizarrely. The line dance trio were obviously delighted and Mateo and Mary strutted on wearing straw cowboy hats. Mateo had an unruly white tie which kept escaping and he had to keep flicking it back over his should, trying to make it look like part of his dance.

Next and maybe the highlight of the night, the bloke with the invisible wife hit the floor. he did 5 dances in a row with a woman that wasn't there. He was holding her hump and everything, talk about bloody funny!

By this stage we couldn't take any more laughter and had to retreat home.

Yesterday morning when Mark got up, he asked if he'd dreamt the whole thing!!!!!