Forty degrees and higher. Really, that is too much. The rhythm of the day changes to suit the temperature. At the hottest time, after a lazy late lunch, it’s time for a siesta. Late at night, after midnight and into the small hours, it is finally cool enough outside to sit on a kitchen chair on the slope of our little street and share some comfortable time with the neighbours, catching up with the minutiae of life. Continue reading
Back when I worked (oh how long ago it seems, now!) I was up with all the jargon. Words like social inclusion, stakeholders, outcomes and future-proofing. The charity sector’s version of management-speak. And yet all of a sudden I am “future-proofing” all sorts of aspects of my life! And it feels quite serious. Continue reading
Forty-four days.
I go for my morning walk, my feet heading automatically to the Enchanted Place. The almond blossom is just finishing, and the grass smells fresh. The view is clear, 
across to the rocky outcrop that so dominates the village, across to our big mountain, with just a touch of snow on its peak, down to the neighbouring village, and back through the frame of the almond trees to the village that I call home. I shake off the worries, the cloud that hangs over, and turn back, retracing my steps and round to the bakery where Gloria puts my bread roll in a bag as I enter, without waiting for me to ask. Continue reading
It’s fascinating to think about life in other ages, though significantly harder (for me, at least) to separate those epochs in my mind and understand the differences, and which developments took place when. Málaga is a city that offers answers to many of those questions. Continue reading
The tradition began a few years ago. A coachload of villagers from my pueblo and a nearby one had gone off on a holiday together to Almería in the autumn. On one of the excursions, somebody said they wanted to nip off and buy a Christmas lottery ticket. Suddenly everyone around decided to go too, and the coach returned from Roquetas del Mar with people clutching over 200 of the precious lottery tickets, for themselves and for presents within their families. Continue reading
Officially, I’m not old. I’m too young to get a pension, and I’m not sixty yet. My pueblo organises events and trips for the “oldies”, but technically I’m too young. Technically. But thanks to last year’s heart attack, I can sneak in. Continue reading
A few days after the announcement of the new Doctor Who, I did a bit of time travelling of my own. From Málaga airport, instead of my usual Ryanair flight to Bournemouth, a red Jet2 flight bore me half an hour further north to Leeds-Bradford airport for a reunion. Continue reading
Poco a poco, paso a paso. I suppose it is a mark of how life here has become normal and familiar, that in recent months it has only been my “escapadas”, or escapes, that have seemed to warrant a blog post. Daily life in Colmenar and Málaga trundles on. Continue reading
Another month, another “escapada”. This time to Cádiz, a city I had overlooked for far too long. Three nights in probably the best-located Airbnb flat anywhere, with a terrace looking directly onto the tower of the impressive cathedral. It was the flat of Francesca and Carlos – for me the real benefit of the Airbnb system is being able to stay with locals and get their tips about things to see and places to eat. Continue reading
Juan-Jesús was probably about seven, though hard to tell. He’d been staring at me in the bar earlier, where I’d been chatting to a charming old guy about the provenance of the local jamón. The old fella had offered some useful tips about villages I should visit between Huelva and Extremadura. Obviously the child had spotted my accent, and seemed captivated by it. Continue reading
A Foot in Two Campos 