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    Certificado de Antecedentes Penales!

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    Yesterday was busy; I was up early sorting out yet more paperwork, only this time for not for Spain. We had asked a friend from Gran Alacant to accompany us to Murcia, where we had to have a police check carried out, confirming that both of us have no convictions.

    Darrell and I had to travel to Murcia, a large city, about 80KM from Alicante. The Ministry of Justice Office is situated in the centre, above a shop; you wouldn't even know it's there, except for the small sign outside. After handing over our passports and residencia cards, we were good to go. Due to my residency status in Spain, the Ministry will also apply to Britain for my records, killing two birds with one stone, saving me the difficulties of applying for my police check in the UK. Darrell however wasn't so lucky. Due to his non EU status, he will have to ask for his British records himself. The documents were also apostilled or legalised on site, once again saving both of us the time and effort, contacting the relevant Government department. 

    This was the quickest pain free task, I have ever gone through in Spain, everything was completed in twenty minutes. We both have to wait for two weeks, to get the final documents back and then finally have all the paperwork translated into English, part of the course when you are living in a non English speaking country; apart from this formality we are nearly at the end of the process here in Spain.

    Over the next few weeks, we have just a few final engagements to undertake before we leave. We need to renounce our residency status and apply for our tax refunds, so we can finally move forwards away from our continental adventure. I am of course sad to be leaving this place, but at least we can both say, we have survived the Spanish system and lived a fairly full life.

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    Rab's World!

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    "Wisdom doesn't necessarily come with age, sometimes age just shows up by itself!"
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    Short Stories From My Youth - Cigarettes!

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    I was spending the day with Nan, Mum and Dad had gone out. Outside the weather was cold, I could see the neighbours trees swaying gently in the bitter northerly wind. Sitting in the kitchen, I was warm, sheltered from the January chill; Nan was making dinner, the smell of steak and kidney pudding drifting throughout the house. Rich thick, dark gravy was simmering on the stove, as Nan finished lining each ceramic pot, with a hearty suet pastry. I watched as Nan spooned the meat into the cases, sealing them tightly with a muslin cloth, left to boil as she started to peel potatoes for the evening meal.

    Nanny often told me the story of when she worked in Lyons Bakery, during the War, baking bread. She always took great pride in her appearance; even at the height of the conflict, when rationing was in force; she still made the best of a bad situation. In all the years I knew my Nan, I never once saw her without make up; needing dough at Lyons was no exception. A smoker at the time, she would puff on a cigarette, even when on the production line. In Nan’s words, ‘often dropping ash into a bowl of flour!’ Times were very different then and nobody seemed to mind, let alone die from embers in a loaf; if anything, Nan continued ‘it added flavour to the bread;’ looking up for divine inspiration, jesting in fun!

    I went outside in the garden with Nan, it was time for a quick cigarette. Wrapped up warmly in her thick woollen cardigan, me in a duffel coat and bobble hat, which Nan had buttoned up to my neck, we stood shivering by the conservatory; I could barely move my head, as she flung a scarf around my chin. Nan always smoked ‘Cadets,’ in a red a white packet; she opened the box, and realised she had none left, tipping the packet upside down just to make sure. She sighed, took my hand and walked back inside.

    ‘If I write you a note, will you go and see the lady down the road and get me another packet?’ Nan asked. I nodded my head, looking forward to going out on my own. I suppose I couldn’t have been any more than ten years old at the time and knew the lady in the Newsagents well. She always seemed happy to see me and gave me a few penny sweets as I passed by. I often walked the short distance to the parade of shops in Highlands road, on my own, without an adult in tow! There was no fear or paranoia from an over worked Mum, not letting their child out of site. We were safe and able to walk unaccompanied, an altogether unfamiliar childhood by today’s standards.

    Nan wrote a note on a piece of paper:

    “Please can you let my Grandson have a packet of 20 Cadets, From Mrs Frampton at number 8 Coppice Way!”

    She folded it neatly and placed it into my top pocket with a crisp one pound note. “Don’t lose it!” she said, as I ran out the door. Jumping up at the side gate, I managed to lift the latch. Nan followed close behind, securing it as I ran around the corner into Fareham Park Road. “Ring the bell, when you come back,” I heard her shout, as I enthusiastically waved goodbye.

    I waited patiently behind the Man in front, as he bought a packet of Woodbines, coughing all the while. He paid for his cigarettes, turned and walked towards the door, patting me on the head as he left; mumbling something as he did so. “Hello there!” said the lady behind the counter, “what can I do for you?” she asked, leaning down towards me, trying to catch my eye. I placed the note on the counter, which she duly read. “Ah for Poppy,” I heard her say. Everyone knew each other in our little town!

    She put a packet of twenty, four rhubarb and custards and the change into a white paper bag. Finally she scribbled a message onto the back; taking stapler from the counter, she secured the parcel tightly; gently she placed the package into my hand. “Don’t lose it; Nanny wont be happy.” she shouted as I skipped out the door.

    Nan was waiting for me, when I got back, standing on the drive. I handed her the bag, she smiled as she read the words; probably a few lines of encouragement to help her give up smoking, which thankfully she eventually did; carefully removing the cigarettes, she positioned them in my hand. Nanny knew I liked opening a new packet, I loved the smell of the tobacco, as I removed the foil tab, tipping it towards my nose, enjoying the aroma. “Don’t you ever smoke like me,” Nanny always said; of course I never listened and Nanny was always right!

    33 years a smoker, finally nicotine free!
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  • Published on

    Stressed!

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    The last few days have been demanding; they do say moving home is the most stressful time in your life, so travelling abroad  has got to exacerbate that a hundred fold. Of course if it was just a matter of packing, I would be coping far better than I am now, but moving across Europe is a logistical nightmare. I have made this journey several times before, but never having to sell everything I have ever owned.

    We have arranged for the packing company to deliver the few boxes we are taking next week, so will try and remove all the other items by then. I have a good idea what I am taking, I am just finalising the last few bits and pieces. The one possession I want to take is of course Mollie Sugden. The painting I had commissioned of her, shortly after she died, is most definitely on the move with us. She even has her own crate to transport her to her new home!
    More items were collected yesterday, including a couple of oil paintings I had hanging in my lounge for many years. These oil on canvas memories, were always an inspiration towards a better life living in Europe and to be honest, they have also travelled with me, wherever I have been. Of course nothing is forever; in the end these are just items and I can't take them around with me indefinitely. They now have a new home in Torrevieja and I am delighted with the new owners; not that I am vetting them of course; I'm just happy they have gone to people who will enjoy them as much as me!

    This morning I was up bright and early, I wanted to go for a long walk. Unsurprisingly I haven't done much exercise lately, with all the organising I've had to do; it was long overdue. It was nice having a few hours to myself, taking in the fresh air and thinking about the future. Despite moving, I haven't really thought about where I am heading. I have just been to preoccupied with finalising my life in Gran Alacant.  I have now at least had a bit of time to assess my future and make a few plans for the immediate few months. When I mull over what is currently going on, I do have to take a very large gulp and step back, confronting one obstacle at a time. We do have a lot of hurdles to cross, but none of them are insurmountable!

    During my time with Darrell, we have moved over twenty times; maybe that's because of the nature of our relationship or possibly a mark of who we are as a couple. We have never really settled into a place long enough, to call it home. When you are torn between countries, it is difficult choosing the right one to put down roots. I could have moved abroad much earlier, any number of times, but somehow I was always pulled away. Looking back on my life now, we should have settled elsewhere, our life would have been very different, certainly more successful than it is now.

    I have have made some very good friends in Gran Alacant, people we are not likely to see again. We are lucky enough to have come into contact with some truly wonderful characters. They have made our stay all the better, despite the roller coaster ride we have had. Expat life in Spain has been a gentle introduction to living abroad and I am now ready for that final stage, after the long goodbye to GA. This is an important time, no matter how stressful it is; we need to keep the flag burning until we depart and make sure we see everyone before then. My Spanish friends and neighbours have been a great source of support, more so now than ever and we hope to thank them all before we fly to Britain at the end of May.

    Packaging, boxes, paperwork, memories, all strewn across my sitting room floor; all the things left in my life awaiting their fate. We have removed box after box of items to the Horse Charity Shop in Plaza Mayor and thrown many more bags of rubbish in the bin. Despite my life being on display for all to see, I am happy to be finally moving forwards to pastures new. The task ahead of us, even before we set foot in our new home is immense, but with the decision made, we can at least sleep well at night, until will leave this special country, starting the final chapter as a 'Roaming Brit' in an ever changing World!
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  • Published on

    Rab's World!

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    "That great moment when you flip your pillow to the cold side!"
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