Daddy gets ill while we're in Spain.
Monday, May 26, 2014 @ 3:08 PM
On the 6th of December we were experiencing some luxury at the Parador de Gibralfaro in Malaga. It felt wonderful to get away from the basic facilities of the cortijo with only lanterns for light as there was no mains electricity. We had to lug big bottles of water for cooking and drinking and big bombonas for the cooker and hot water as well. I had a long soak in the hotel bath tub before wandering around the beautiful building and gazing down at Malaga from the gardens. Adrian was catching a flight to Cardiff on a business trip the following day and I would drive the car back to La Gloria with the children.
We had used our tarjeta de cinco noches to book the parador. This was a deal run by the Paradores de Turismo de España. It was a bit of a con in fact, despite being run by a respected national organisation. You paid 350 euros for five nights in a parador. But whenever you rang, they'd say there were no rooms available under the deal the night, week or month that you wanted. For example, you might think, 'Oh, we'll get away for two days in June,' and find out that the only possible place to go was in Northern Spain. Or you'd fancy a trip to Carmona and the tarjeta would only be valid there in November and December.
Although we'd bought it in the spring, we hadn't managed to use it until November, when we'd stayed in Ubeda for two nights. We had now spent the one night in Malaga before Adrian was due to fly out. We had also managed (finally) to find a parador that would let us stay for the two last nights just after Christmas. During the earlier months we'd repeatedly been told it was impossible. We'd got so exasperated that we'd say:
'Instead of telling us when we can't stay, what about telling us when we can?'
In addition to the prepaid 70 euros a night for the basic accommodation, each time we had to spend 70 euros on top for the use of two little beds for the children and for breakfast (NB. in our rentals we never dream of asking for extra just to use a bed or a cot or a high chair).
Anyway, we were having dinner in a Chinese restaurant in the old town, when I received the call from my Dad's best mate Tony.
'I think your Dad's had a stroke,' he said.
We quickly paid the bill, rushed back to the hotel, got on the internet and booked three more 'plane tickets for the following day.
The next morning Adrian got up at 5am and drove back to La Gloria (a three hour round trip) to pick up our passports. It was a race against time; while he went back (missing the expensive breakfast, which he was gutted about), the children and I ate ours and then caught a taxi to the airport. Adrian would meet us there.
We also made a few calls to get Benjamin to take over all the building work - the old part of the house as well as the new part. We were pretty confident he'd just crack on with it, despite being on a daily rate.
By 5pm the day after the call, we were walking onto Dad's hospital ward in Cardiff.
I didn't know what to expect, but there was Daddy, sitting up in bed:
'Look!' he slurred to the couple of nurses nearby, 'Diss is my daughter. She hass come all de way frrom Spain!'
Although the side of his face was down and his speech was affected, it looked like one of those strokes people recover from quickly. We spent a couple of hours with him but when he started to look tired we left, promising to return the next day.
To see the end result of all the work on the casa, take a look at the house now:
http://www.homeaway.co.uk/p86636
And also another of our completed projects:
http://www.homeaway.co.uk/p475271