Chasing the dream in spain

 Linda has now finished work as well. She came home Friday and said “what the hell have we done?”, “well there’s no going back now.” After spending all day clearing things out and decorating, it’s really hitting home. The stuff you come across is beyond belief, we found a couple of boxes of photos in the loft, very hard not to spend a few hours going through them, although Linda did spend an hour or so “peeking” in the boxes. We have now made arrangements to borrow some loft space from other family members, some things you need to keep just in case, so the winter clothes are getting sealed in “vac bags” too stop them going “foisty”, and away they go. Not sure I’ve spelt “foisty” right, but I’m sure you know what I mean. Along with these will go the saucepan set we got for our wedding, and the odd electrical kitchen appliance that we have actually used, the deep fat fryer went to a car boot sale ages ago. One thing not being kept is the museum piece Amstrad “word processor”, yes, the ones that had black and white screens, anyone remember them? All told, the piles are getting smaller, and fewer. The half empty paint cans are now fewer in number too, it seems many of them were the same colour, they just got “lost” in the garage.

We’ve been clearing the kitchen cabinets too. Our booze is on the top shelf of one of these, with the glasses on the shelf underneath. Not having to worry too much about alarm clocks going off, we have been “using up” some of the half empty bottles. In the corner of the top shelf was an unopened bottle of Romanian brandy, which not wanting to open it, I decided to give this to the father in law. He came up for lunch today, and the brandy was placed on the kitchen worktop for him to take home. He’s eighty two by the way, and a true Yorkshire man, as in pay nowt. He prefers Ron Miel, but finding it around Alicante seems difficult, this may not be his favourite, but costing nowt, it would go in his coffee, no problem. Lunch was roast pork, with the vegetables all thrown in together with a good drizzle of olive oil, and left to roast. This emptied the olive oil bottle, which Linda duly washed out, and put on the worktop to be taken out for recycling. Time for Frank to go home, coat and cap on, “don’t forget the brandy”, “right” was the reply, and off he tottered down the hallway clutching a square green bottle for all his life was worth. Perhaps some of you have guessed where this is going; the brandy was in a round clear bottle. It seems in his haste to escape with the free brandy, he’d picked up the first bottle he came across, namely an empty olive oil bottle. It seems glasses are now in order as well as the hearing aids! And before you ask, I didn’t have the heart to let him take an “empty” home.

 Finally, work has come to an end, and I now have time to concentrate on other things. My last shift at work was an experience, 7 o’clock came, and it was time for my staff to sign out and go home. The usual queue formed, but this time it was different. Instead of the usual ‘bye’ or ‘see you’, there was a handshake, from every one of them, all thirty. One of the ‘lads’, from whom I was expecting a ‘big handshake’, who was at the back of the queue, must have sensed that my right hand was ready for falling off, and toned it down slightly. There was even a ‘viva espania’ from one, a Polish man with little English, so that was a nice touch, it must have taken some doing, the simple things quite often mean the most. Time to leave, with my ‘co-pilot’, Greg, now being the ‘pilot’. Up to the gatehouse, to sign out, and hand in my Hi-viz vest and fob. In the car park, most of the people had gone when I started my car, but the few remaining, decided that it was polite to let me go through the gates first. This was quite amusing, as the gates are electronically operated, by means of a fob, which I had just handed in. The penny dropped after a minute or so, and someone opened the gates for me, we could have been there a while, and so off home for some much needed sleep. Working rotating shifts was never a problem really, but the last set of nights had taken it out of me. Getting up early, and trying to smile at people coming to view our house, and answer all their questions sensibly, was hard going. Renting our house out was always a ‘had to do’ part of the planning really, the rent from this one, covering the rent for the one in Spain. We are going with a ‘nice young’ couple, we understand their choice of house, they are expecting their first child, and there are good schools etc, close by. So, that seems to be coming on nicely, at least one part of the ‘master plan’ is working.

Linda finishes work on Friday, and I think she is quite nervous about it, having worked at the hospital for about twenty years. And so, on Saturday, the hard work of packing up our lives here really gets underway. I am a relatively new person on the street, only having been here about seventeen years, but Linda has lived here about thirty five years, and so leaving will be a greater wrench for her. Her children grew up here; there will be a lot of memories to pack up as well as physical things. We now have to look at the house as an income, rather than a home, not always easily done. One look outside, at the grey and wet miserable January weather, should make this a little easier. I am still amazed at the amount of things I am finding that I had ‘forgotten’ I had. Choosing those ‘essentials’ items that you just can’t live without, is getting harder, and I am having to be more mercenary as the days go by, the suitcase is not a ‘tardis’, and will not get any larger. Do I really need that ‘deckchair style’ material sleeveless shirt, which is a little snug fitting, seriously faded, but goes back nearly two decades, to the pre marriage era in my life? Never went on holiday without it, its caused a few rows when packing for jaunts to sunnier climbs, one year I actually refused to travel without it! Hmm. Maybe its just time to let go. On with the packing.

 Now way round this one really. The myth of women having enough clothes to fill a lorry, and men being able to carry all their worldly possessions in two bin liners, has been blown to smithereens. With just four nights left to work, and five weeks before the big move to Alicante for five months, I am just going to have to accept a large yellow metal container is going to land on my driveway. Some things have gone to the charity shop, some things have gone in the bin, but there is still a mountain to get rid of. Despite my best attempts, the pile never gets any smaller. Unlike Spain, where you get refuse collections twice a day, we get twice a month, and so if I want it all go in the dustbin, it’ll take me till I’m ninety, if they don’t go on strike. Wow, feels loads better now, blogging is great, you can let off steam, and the only thing that gets hurt is the keyboard! 

On a lighter note, the joys of skype. We got it all set up a week ago, all working fine, although our Lisa had to borrow the camera off here hubby’s x-box. The grandkids love it, but there is a drawback. Picture the scene, it’s 5:30 in the morning, your two year old has just got up, all that’s on your mind is getting breakfast sorted and a cup of tea. Then the words fall from her lips, “grandma, computer”. So I think video calling is a hit with the grandkids, us grown-ups might not be so enthusiastic!

 Only a few days left to work now, and the nerves are starting to show. Some people still think I need my head examining. Giving up a well paid job to jump into the unknown probably doesn’t seem like the brightest thing to do. I just think that I would always regret not having tried it, the if only I had done that, which would niggle away at me for all time, and you never get any younger. My circle of friends is quite small, but I will miss them all. Keeping in touch will have to be high on my ‘to do’ list, I lost contact with a very good friend before, he emigrated to ‘Oz’, and I now don’t even have a current e-mail address. I nearly had quite an emotional moment at work the other day, but being a bloke, not the done thing. Some people on one of the shifts I manage had got me a card and a present. I’m glad I didn’t have to make a speech. The card was very nice, although not a total surprise, as Patrycja was not very subtle going round with it. With it came a book, a lot of thought went into the choice, a Spanish author, but thankfully translated into English.

Moving on, an update on Virgin Media. I can honestly say I have never struggled so much to contain myself. Linda rang up, and put it on speaker. The nice call centre person was very helpful, although the accent was a little hard to place. She was very sorry to lose such loyal customers, were we sure we wanted to terminate the service, yes, was the reply. Okay, the 21^st of next month would be great, the 21^st of January then, no, February please. By this time, I’m getting close to tears. FEB-RU-AR-RY. My wife’s’ frustration is becoming evident, ‘where is this call centre?’, ‘Manila, the Philippines Madam’. That explained the communication problem. Apparently, it takes a couple weeks after termination of service, to get a final bill, so they needed a forwarding address. ‘Would we like to use their services at our new address?’, ‘no thanks, we’re moving to Spain’. ‘If you give me your new address, I’ll just check, we may serve that area’, ‘Alicante, S-P-A-I-N!’. I am now in pain, trying to stop myself from having an ‘accident’. ‘It’s another country, we’re moving abroad!’ My face is contorting into something that would win a gurning competition, just to hold the laughter in, let alone not wetting myself. The pain is starting to subside, the nice woman on the other end of the phone, is now lacking in entertainment value, the light has come on, something has clicked, we will not be living in the UK.  I have paid good money for entertainment in the past, concert tickets, comedy clubs etc, but this came a good second, and it was free! Sorry, naturalised Yorkshire man, see all, do all, supp all, pay nowt. By the way, if anyone happens to see a bunch of lads with a white van, and hi-viz vests on, with NTL or Virgin Media plastered on them, digging cable trenches round Alicante, I am happy for them to contact me, and I will formally apologise, of course. No doubt the person ringing me, probably to inform me of impending legal action, will speak English, not learnt from watching ‘corrie’ or ‘eastenders’ for a few hours, but from spending a few years within a radius of less than a thousand miles of where their customers live!  

 Fights booked, house and car rented, no going back now. We have committed a fair amount of money now, and both have resigned from our jobs, the adventure begins! It's only now you realise how many loose ends there are. Cable TV, utilities, council tax, banks and the tax office all want sorting out. And I bet there will be something I've missed. So, in between working my way through half empty paint cans and assorted bits of wood kept because they might come in handy in the garage, it's time to start making those phone calls. I bet Virgin Media will offer me some absolutely amazing deal to stay with them. Can't wait to say I'd like to, do you serve the Alicante area now? Knowing their call centres, they probably think that's part of Leeds! Imagine if their call centres were off shore. Time to move on before I go off on one. D-Day. No not that one, nor the day we land in Spain. No, I mean the REAL invasion. I had been warned I'd be popular, but I had expected to have a little more time, on my own, with my wife, before the invasion started. I've been been let off a little bit, it was going to be three days, but apparently I now get a whole week! Look on the bright side, I'll have time to stock the fridge up. Not with beer, but jars of baby food for the grandchildren, they're past that, but you know what I mean. Okay, the odd beer might sneak it's way in. All this fuss about getting the phones and laptop set up for use abroad seems pointless. Instead of not seeing the kids for five days, we'll have to wait seven. At least sunday lunch will be easier, and different. Most of the grandkids will try most types of food, tapas would be great, or get a fresh roast chicken from the market, served with heaps of fresh local salady type things maybe ( never been to a market in march, they seem to grow all year round in Spain), and all eaten in the fresh air, with kids doing what they do best. Running round and having a great time, tiring themselves out, so the grown-ups can have the odd 'tinto' in the evening. Perfect.

Thanks to Justin, for the offer of help with my cut and paste skills, I will get there in the end, and those that have taken the time to comment. I read them all, and have gleaned a lot of useful information already. 

 This is a matter which now seemed to be demanding my attention. I have banked with the "helpful" bank, Natwest, for about fifteen years now, so decided to pop in and see how "helpful" they were going to be with getting money out to Spain on a regular basis. Any guesses what comes next? It seems "helpful" was on extended leave, and not due back to work for quite some time. Instead, I got to talk to "unhelpful". Whilst out in Spain, I went into a few banks, just to find out how things would work transferring money out on a regular basis. Banco Santander lived up to their reputation with zeal. After standing there like an idiot, waiting till the one clerk on duty could be bothered to push the button to allow me through the door, she took great pleasure in explaining to me, in perfect English of course, how much everything would cost if I darkened their doorstep again. And if I didn't quite understand everything she'd said, I could take a nice, shiney leaflet from the rack on the wall. They don't even communicate with their UK branches, so I found out later. "Our systems are not linked at the moment". Don't think I'll bother. Across the road I went, not a very happy bunny at all. My wife had left me to carry this baby while she was topping up her tan by the pool. The CAM bank next. I could have an account, for the "bargain price" of 30 euros a year. ( I have just realised my nice new laptop does not have an immediately obvious euro sign on the keyboard, hmmm, one for later). They would quite happily transfer money from a UK bank, without charge on their part, would have to ask my own bank at this end. Looks promising, I think. Back to the UK and "unhelpful". Yes, they could do that for me through the CHAPS system, no problem. I just needed the international code for the bank in Spain. Success??? No!!! That will be £17 then sir. For the year I asked, realising the stupidity of the question as it came out. No, per transfer sir, £27 if you need it relatively quickly, which I now take mean if I would like to see it again before England next win the world cup! Inspiration!! I suddenly remembered talking to a bloke, who had just moved out there. He said he used the Halifax, because they would transfer free of charge to Halifax Espania. But I haven't banked with the Halifax for years, but I went in on the off chance. We can open you an account, no problem, as long as you have your salary paid into it. Oh dear, never mind. Then, as if by magic, 2 days later, a letter arrived. From the Halifax, no less. Due to the collapse of the banking system in the UK, and their marriage to the Lloyds, the were writing to all their customers who had accounts open, before moving them to the "new" system. My old account that I hadn't used for years was still open! No money in it though. So down I went, 10 minutes and a coffee later, a new set of cards and internet banking password were winging their way to me. We'll see where this one goes in a few weeks, knowing my luck the free transfers will stop. Enough typing for today, but before I go, and before I get lots of comments about the euro sign on the keyboard, I have found it. Only took me about five minutes to get it to work. Give it another two or three years and I'll be able to work the washing machine as well!  

 To all have tried to read the last post, sorry. I tried to paste the text in from something I wrote earlier today. It didn't work very well. Guess I'm an idiot with lots to learn still. Will need typing lessons as well. 

Our house in the UK is now up for rent with a letting agency. They have put a sign up in the front garden. Now the cat really is amongst the pigeons. You see, we live in a quiet crescent where nothing ever happens. We get the police car that crawls past twice a year very slowly, I think it's meant to make us think we are getting value for money with our council tax. And there was that time when the woman across the road in the big house had a blazing row with her ex husband in her front garden about eight years ago (tut tut, dirty laundry in public, not the done thing). Curtains are twitching and tongues are wagging. I've only lived here about sixteen years, but Linda has lived here for well in excess of thirty years, since just after the houses were built. Everyone knew everyone's business, or so they thought. You could see people were desperate to know the gossip. Finally, after about two hours, somebody plucked up the courage to knock on the door and ask. "You're doing what!", "but you didn't tell anyone!". Give it a few days for the shockwaves to work their way round the crescent and get to the corner shop, ( that isn't actually on a corner???), and the gossip machine will really get into full swing! "But Linda will miss the grandchildren!". The way it's looking, we'll be out about three days before we get "invaded", just enough time to unpack and fill the fridge. We went out and bought a new laptop with a camera and microphone on it, so the grandchildren can "see" grandma and grandad. Let's hope the Spanish Internet is up to it, though I think it might be a struggle, even getting a signal for a mobile phone can require some ingenuity.

 Many thanks to Anne and goodstich44 for the comments. We have already made the rent or buy decision, and came up with rent. Due to house prices in the UK taking a bit of a battering, and the Spanish market being very stagnant, it makes sense to rent for a while to make sure we are happy to settle in an area before buying. We are going to rent out our house here, keeping the door open, so to speak. So we are going out at the end of February till the end of July. Coming home for a couple of months, taking time way up our options, while the place is full of 'tourists'.We are using it as a working holiday, finding out how things really work etc. As suggested, we are going to try converting our 'Spanglish' into Spanish. I have nasty habit of forgetting anything I don't use on a regular basis, so using the language more often, it might stick a bit better hopefully. We also considering classes. While not being rich, we do have a bit of a financial cushion, so not in need of immediate employment. Linda has taken early retirement, but I'm a little too young, so will have to do something eventually. I was thinking more along the lines of job satisfaction,as opposed to just earning money. After many years of a high pressure job, that would be nice, if at all possible. That has to be the way to go, as successive UK governments keep changing the age at which I can draw my meagre private pension. Perhaps hoping I'll pop my cloggs before drawing anything I've paid into. Maybe I'm helping to clear the national debt! Apparently, I can draw it earlier in Spain, if I move it offshore, but there seem to plenty of sharks in this area. Estate agents and timeshare salesmen seemed to have morphed themselves into another form. That's enough one finger typing for today. Once again, thanks to all who have taken the time to pass on advice. 

 We have been to Spain on many holidays and thought how great it would be to actually live there, but never actually done anything about it! Well now we have. The choice has been made. We are going to dip our toes in the water, so to speak. We have read of, or know of, many people who have sold up and moved to Spain. You know the ones, we'll buy a bar and become millionaires over night, or the the ones that think because Spain is cheap, that means living there is free! We might be mad doing it in the present climate, but not that mad. There is a rumour that all those orange coloured things on trees are made of gold, they are not, they are just oranges! We checked! So we are going to chase the dream, and do it on a 'tight' budget. Whenever the madness dies down enough to allow me five minutes of quiet, I'll be writing a few lines to let anyone who's interested know how we get on. Please feel free to drop a few lines in comment, even if it is just to confirm we are totally mad, or maybe some useful suggestions, perhaps.

That's all for now, and thanks for reading this.