The F words

Well just getting over a bout of flu, second time this year I was blaming it on UK visitors but then recalled it started the day after I was in the local  Salud seeing the Dr. Those places are full of sick people with germs! Bit of a wimp when it comes to colds and Flu as I have fibromyalgia and viruses can hit particularly hard. Anyway worst over now and the multitude of lemons we have at present have been a great help, big mugs of hot drink with honey.

Quite a week for the F words, John and Jude were planning a fire up on our plot, there a good fire pit enclosed with corrugated sheets. You have to be careful though. Any fire in a dry country needs constant watching to keep it under control. Where we lived before here a guy burned his neighbours' house down when he had a garden bonfire, garage with cars and all. The other big risk factor, aside for the dry conditions, is the materials being burned. Olive and citrus trimming are very flammable, rather like eucalypts in Australia they have an high oil content and go up with a whoosh.

Well we were aware that care was needed but we did not realize you need a licence from the local counsel before you have a fire, judging by the number of fires we see here some one must have a full time job issuing the paperwork. By change on his way to the plot John had to call at the Real Homes office to collect paperwork and just as well he did as it turned out. Whilst he was there he heard another person asking about lighting a fire and it transpired that the afore mentioned licence was needed. This it not a case of rules and paperwork for there own sake it a safety thing. Because of the danger of fire the council like to know where a fire will be in case it does get out of control. this aids in sending out the Bombas (fire brigade) ensuring they go straight to the correct part of the campo. Oh yes and its free, jolly good.

The postman always rings twice!

Well maybes that’s where we are going wrong, we haven’t got a bell, we haven't got what you could call a postal service either it seems. Here in Spain the service has never been what you might call first class. In Formentera it was hit and miss, our bank had to use am alternative delivery method to get important documents to us. In Guardamar we got everyone’s post but our own, SOMEONE out there is no doubt enjoying the House DVDs my brother sent me. When we moved to Blanca we were hopefully it would be better, even though we are in the campo. The odds seemed good as Rebecca has an good service, in fact when we lived in Guardamar I did get packages sent to her, which arrived, as it seemed safer. Well as I always say travelling in hope is sometimes better than arriving in disappointment. We arrived here safe and sound, not so the majority of our post. The story so far: We call at the Correos in Blanca, we are told that post is delivered to the house, hurrah. No sign of a postman. We were called on by close neighbours, British, who have been away. On there return they find "someone" has thrown a bundle of post over their gate, its addressed, correctly and clearly to us. "You need a post box" they tell us. We return to the post office and are told A. post will be delivered and B. not worth getting box till the new year starts. We eagerly await our post. We get an email from the estate agent, we have some of your post, another British couple brought it to them in the hope they would know us. We collect the letters and return to the Correos. We speak calmly, aren't we good. We leave a map, an invitation to the postie to stop by for a drink. We eagerly await our post We get no post, we call at the correos, we call at the correos, we call, oh you get the idea. We start to politely protest, we are waiting for important documents, we have had no post for weeks, we have a real problem now. "I am on the case" the head honcho informs us, We eagerly ( well maybe not quiet so eagerly )await our post, trusting souls us. At the beginning of the week we call again, the counter clerk she says no, no post for you today. We protest, a little louder than usual, we say we await insurance documents for the car. She asks the previously mentioned Head Honcho. He picks up a letter from behind the counter which is ours, seems the counter clerks vision is somewhat blinkered! We tell him again, and maybe even again that we are waiting for important mail. He disappears into the back office and to our utter disbelief returns with several letters, all ours, all properly addressed. Whats the story? the regular postie has been on holiday, he has the map we gave him, so the holiday relief did not deliver. What could we say, well we could say it seems to us the usual guy needs some lessons in map reading in our humble opinion for a start. Trouble is they are all so pleasant and apparently trying to get it right and goodness knows we would not want to upset them, well they might not deliver the post if we do! Footnote. John worked for many years a a postman in Rural Cornwall, it particularly galls him that the services is so bad here. He frequently struggled along muddy tracks and fought off farm dogs and marauding mad geese to get the post through.

I cant believe it

“ I cant believe it” I have just watched the man who owns the property across the campo from us throw a double bed and mattress over his wall to get rid of it. Out of sight out of mind. Now we have the prospect of la view of a red and white striped mattress until it rots away.
Actually this man is getting annoying, he does not live at the house, but visits to feed his dogs and pidgeons and water the trees. Two dogs run free, another an alsation is chained continually on a short leash, they wake us up nearly every night with their barking and howling. I think they are meant to be a deterent to someone stealing his pigeons.