An advantage of village life for the children, now that we were living in the casa was that they were free to go out and play, meet up with friends independently of us, and there were maybe not as much dangers compared to living in a town (or perhaps the dangers were just different). The main road running through the village was a worry, as some of the drivers were idiots and there were some terrible lethal drops down into various abysses, that didn't have so much as a fence bordering them. There was also stranger-danger (or acquaintance-danger) like everywhere else, but because everyone knew everyone else, there seemed to be a better chance that the locals would spot anyone new hanging around.
The village school was infinitely better than the one in Adreimal however, with excellent teachers – mostly women, young and very smartly dressed – they raised the tone in the village. But some of the parents didn’t appreciate how good these teachers were – and indeed the only older female teacher, who had been there for two decades and had taught some of the parents themselves – used to speak her mind at the parent-teacher meetings about the negative attitude some of the parents had about the teachers.
'I know you say to the children: "You don’t have to listen to the teachers; they know nothing about life,"' she said during one meeting.
And she was right. My friends said exactly that to their children. So I made a point of speaking out loudly and clearly in support of the teachers whenever I could.
‘Oh yes’, I‘d say, ‘I think that this equal opportunities policy you’re following is excelente’.
They couldn’t believe their ears, and the parents looked at me, like I'd gone round the twist.
The school even won a prestigious award for this policy that they were implementing as part of the Junta de Andalucia’s attempt to re-educate boys in particular, so that they would not become macho wife-abusers. Domestic violence was seen as a big problem in Spain. We were all invited to Granada to eat delicious canapes and dainty cakes and the teachers were on the evening news.
To make a contribution, I often made cakes for the various school events and these were always warmly received – ‘Que pinta tienen!’ the teachers would exclaim (‘how nice they look!’). And our children thrived in the school performing at the top of their (small) classes. We, too, were made to feel we were appreciated as a unique element in the school; the teachers felt that Avril in particular was a good influence and would place children by her whom they thought she would influence positively. We British are known for our manners. So unlike Adreimal there was no animosity towards foreign children at all.
We were in fact held in such high regard that the deputy tried to persuade Adrian to run for mayor.
'We need a britanico,' he pleaded. 'Estoy harto, I'm fed up of the political corruption. A britanico like you could be trusted.'
I didn't like everything about the school, however. I disapproved of the teaching of Catholicism, in particular. Back in the UK I had seen grown women cry when they talked about the nuns at their Catholic schools. But my Catholic friends in the village and the local form of Catholicism seemed quite different.
For one thing, it was very easy to get an abortion or a divorce and I never heard anyone saying anything homophobic. After Franco, it seemed to be all ‘live and let live.’ But I wouldn’t allow the kids to go to the Religion classes in school; they still taught it the old way, with the focus primarily on Catholicism as the one and only true religion.
I detest the Catholic religion (and possibly every other religion) and don’t trust priests; and I thought that the local priest taught the lessons (I was wrong). When I told a teacher my views, instead of being offended, he was nodding in agreement: ‘What a good idea to keep them away from those classes,’ he said, ‘they really screwed me up.’
The teachers did complain about one aspect of Avril's behaviour, however. Apparently, she would not do the kisses. The teachers would say:
‘Oh yes, her school work is great. She’s a lider. Know that word?’
'Uh, yes, it’s an English word actually' (that they’d just introduced and spelt phonetically).
But this failure to do the kisses sounded good to me. It was very handy with people whom you couldn't stand but had to kiss because of etiquette. Avril would simply not comply and regularly offended adults because of this. There was no way I was going to force her.
In most ways she was a star pupil. She was placed next to a boy called Franci one year and the teachers and the boy's mother were very pleased because his marks improved. They assumed it was the influence of sitting next to Avril; she said it was rather because he copied her work. And a girl in Avril's class, Beatriz, was another copier. She was the only other girl the same age as Avril. She liked Avril, but Avril said she was a bit sly and didn't return the sentiments.
Beatriz didn't come from what was seen as a 'good family.' Her mother was a sour woman who only ever spoke nicely to me once when she wanted me to buy a massive box of ‘polverones' for fifteen euros. I bought them to be polite, as I found these almond delicacies tasteless and indeed like 'powder.' During the previous three years of our acquaintance, she’d never said one word or so much as given me the La Gloria nod.
And Beatriz's grandmother was another one. The story went that she'd married a man who'd won the lottery and spent all the money - presumably on her matching skirt suits, made out of material that I felt would be more suitable as carpets - with matching tottering high heels (how they carried her massive weight would made a good scientific study) and tons of lurid make-up. When the money was gone she dumped the poor guy. The only evidence of the win left was her substantial over-the-top wardrobe.
To see our current properties for rent take a look at:
http://www.homeaway.co.uk/p86636
And also another of our completed projects:
http://www.homeaway.co.uk/p475271