“Oh you’re SOOoooo lucky!” I get told that a lot. Of course I know I’m lucky. What’s more, I remind myself every day. Probably every hour. But it’s not because I live in two beautiful places and have the freedom to enjoy them. It’s certainly not for the reasons most people mean when they say “Oh you’re SOOoooo lucky!” Continue reading
The score is currently standing at Joanna Lumley 1 : Tamara Essex 0. But I’ll even it up some day. Continue reading
“Lluvia, nieve, viento y frio. El invierno mostrará mañana su lado más duro en la provincia.” Malaga Hoy, 27 febrero 2013, the day before Andalucía Day. “Rain, snow, wind and cold. The winter will show its harder side in the province tomorrow.” Continue reading
Christmas plays well in Dorset market towns, especially Shaftesbury. The stone parish church and the charming town hall sit comfortably at the centre of lights and celebrations during late-night shopping. Santa, elves, the Shaftesbury Town Silver Band, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and the community choir carolling in the crisp winter evening. It’s Christmas in Dorset and all’s right with the world. Continue reading
A motorbike, two heads of antlers, a billiard table and a bonsai tree. Somebody’s idea of the 5 most important things to take to Spain. I suppose it must make sense to them. Conveniently, the person who had booked three quarters of Graham’s transit van for their antlers and other valuables, had left room at the back for my stuff. Continue reading
Carnival! Fiesta! Masks! Music! Fire! Is there a people of any nation that does not celebrate this way? Málaga carnival – fancy dress, street music, processions, singing, dancing. Notting Hill Carnival – the menu of activities is the same. Continue reading
The discussions which arose from Blog numbers 7 & 10 about where “home” is and what makes it “home” have made me think a great deal about how and why it is that I can feel so quickly content almost anywhere. It made me think again about my mother’s extraordinary travel history, and wonder if I’ve inherited some sort of “travel gene” from her.
My mum’s mother had escaped the Russian Revolution as a child. Mum herself was born in 1930 in a village outside Danzig when it was a Free City-State, so in that sense she was truly a child of the whole world, not constrained by national boundaries. Continue reading
You know when you buy some new clothes, or some new cups or plates, or even a new beachtowel, you really love the new one and get rather obsessed with it? But then over time you start using the old ones again and allow them a new lease of life, rescuing them from the dark corner to which they had been banished?
Well I have clearly been guilty of this. Despite deliberately entitling this blog “A Foot in Two Campos”, I have so far focused entirely on my exciting new venture, the charming little casita in Colmenar. Continue reading