Spanish Eyes, English Words

As we prepare to return to Spain after three months in the UK, it's time to reflect on our stay. Overall, it's been pretty good, despite the worry and stress of my daughter's stroke and my husband's illness. While I'm looking forward to going home, there are some things I'm really going to miss when we go back, although after the July heatwave, the weather won't be one of them. In fact, it will be good to get away from the humidity to the dry heat of the Costa Blanca. Here - in no particular order, as Philip Schofield is so fond of saying - are the things I'll miss about England.

Morrisons

I've always been a big Morrisons fan - I think it's generally the best of the big supermarkets. There's a branch of Morrisons en route to the hospital where my daughter spent 8 weeks, so it became my default supermarket for that time. I love their fresh bread and instore baked pies and pasties, and they have a great range of offers - we've had several 'Buy 1, get 2 free' bargains since we've been here, and the motor home is going to groan under the weight of the bargains as we make our way back.

Green fields and rolling hills

While the Mediterranean scrub land around us in Algorfa has its own particular kind of beauty, nothing beats driving through the rolling hills of Devon, with a vista of green fields stretching out into the distance. I never tire of it - it's balm for the soul. Okay, I know England is a green and pleasant land because of the industrial quantities of rain that get deposited over its fields, but it's a wonderful sight to behold.

I've often tried - and failed - to count just how many different shades of green go into the mix. It's wonderful, and I'll be sorry to turn my back on it.

Cornish pasties

Both Tony and I love a good Cornish pasty, and I have to say we've indulged in more than our fair share while we've been here. I know we can get them frozen - at a price - in Spain, but nothing beats the smell or taste of a freshly baked Cornish pasty from one of the many independent bakeries in Cornwall and Devon. I make my own pasties occasionally back in Spain, but it's great to just wander into the shop and buy one.

Bargain book shops

As everyone knows, books are not at all cheap in Spain, although avid readers can get their literature fix from one of the many book exchanges around. In the UK, there are bargain book shops in just about every major town, and you can buy 3 new  paperbacks for £5, or even less. Then there's the Book People - the online bargain book shop that has made more than one delivery to Piddock Place in the last three months.

My star bargain is a hard back copy of The Lady of the Rivers - Philippa Gregory's recent historical novel. The jacket price is £18.99, but my copy cost jus £1.49. I devoured it in a few days, and it's now doing the rounds of the caravan site, as there is a lot of interest here in The White Queen on television.

Primark and Poundland

I know I can go to Primark in Murcia, but it's like a market stall in comparison with the Primark in Plymouth. I'm returning to Spain with around twice as many clothes as I came over with, partly because I had to buy some new shorts to cope with the heatwave, but mainly because I couldn't resist the many bargains on offer in Primark.

Poundland is one of Britain's biggest treasures, in my opinion. Many discount stores have different prices, and no real bargains, but Poundland has quality at a rock bottom price. I've stocked up on Maxwell House coffee, Kellogs cornflakes, Heinz salad cream, Hellman's mayonnaise, Fray Bentos steak and kidney pies for Tony and enough cleaning stuff to last me until the apartment falls down around my ears - all for just £1 per item. I've also picked up a lovely set of melamine tableware for use on the terrace.

In Spain, I often darken the doors of Domti, and stagger out under the weight of my purchases, so I have a Spanish equivalent, but I do love my visits to Poundland.

These are the main things I'll miss about the UK, but, as with my previous post about things I've missed about Spain, I expect I'll think of a few more later. And I'm sure my loyal readers will add to the list over time. I'm really looking forward to coming home - hasta agosto, mis amigos!

It's looking as if our extended trip to the UK could be coming to an end soon. Elizabeth is gaining strength and independence every day, and Tony's clotting factor levels have stopped dancing all over the scale and settled to a steady rhythm. If all goes well at the Doctor's on 30th July, we'll be heading back to Spain during the first week of August.

For the last three weeks, the weather here in Devon has been on a par with the tiempo on the Costa Blanca so it's almost like Spain, but not quite. Here - in no particular order, as they say on the reality shows - are the things I've missed most about Spain during the last three months.

Freshly squeezed orange juice

I lied - this one's definitely top of the list. We live among the orange groves in Spain, so sweet Valencian orange juice is on the breakfast menu every day. I have to be seriously ill or seriously late to miss this one out.

I started to do fresh juice here when the huge net of oranges we brought over with us ran out, but it doesn't work on so many levels. For a start, oranges are much more expensive here, and they just don't have the exquisite flavour we're used to. The senora on the market stall where I get my supplies says that's because the oranges are exported in cold storage, and it messes with the flavour. As soon as we have a departure date, I'll ask my neighbour to pick up a net of oranges, so they're waiting for me when I get back.

The sights, smells sounds and tastes of the markets

We have street markets here in Devon, but they're sedate affairs compared to the Spanish version. There's no committed calling of the wares, no samples of fruits pressed on you as you browse the stalls, and definitely no haggling.

Going to a market in the UK is just an outdoor shopping experience, but a trip to the market in Spain is sustenance for the soul. It's different with the London markets of course - I've had many an enjoyable visit, especially in the East End. However, it's a long way from Devon to London, so I'll just have to wait for my fix until I get back. I'll be scheduling the return so I don't miss my favourite Lemon Tree Market.

The Spanish atmosphere

Being able to understand everything that's said around you has its advantages, but I've grown accustomed to the background of Spanish chatter, waving arms, and shouting down the phone. When we first came to Spain, we often used to think fights were about to break out, but we soon got used to the Spanish way of expression, and now everywhere else just seems too, too quiet. We'll be heading straight for the Plaza de Espana in Algorfa, to soak up the atmosphere. In fact, we may even call in on the way back, if we're not to hot, tired and sticky after the journey.

Planned outdoor gatherings

With the recent heatwave, there has been a bit more of that around here, with people getting together for a barbecue on the beach, or drinks and nibbles on the patio, but generally, the weather in the UK puts paid to that sort of arrangement. You can't plan a barbecue for Sunday, because you have no idea what the weather will hold. Okay, you may occasionally get caught out in Spain, but 99 times out of 100, rain or cold stops play at planned outdoor events in the UK.

Cheap drinks

I brought enough cava over with me to last for the planned four week stay, with a few added bottles 'just in case.' Now we've been here for three months, I'm suffering serious cava withdrawal symptoms. I did hold on to one bottle, to toast Andy Murray's Wimbledon win - I always knew this was his year - but now I'm facing a crisis situation, because some blood has found its way into my alcohol stream. It may be good for my liver that my favourite tipple costs 4 times as much here as it does in Spain, but it's not helping my feelgood factor at all. Luckily, I left a couple of bottles in the fridge back home, so they should be well chilled by now.

Those are the main things I've missed about Spain while I've been here in the UK. What do you miss most? In the interests of fairness - and to avoid accusations of 'Britain Bashing' - the next post will deal with the things I'll miss about the UK when I come home.

As you will know if you're a regular reader here, our time in has been extended from 3 - 4 weeks to three months and counting, so instead of watching Wimbledon from our Spanish apartment, we watched it in sunny - for once! - Devon. And I'm really glad we were here to enjoy the atmosphere, because nothing beats Being There when something wonderful is happening.

We didn't actually make it to Wimbledon - my daughter did, but it was on a non-Murray day, so none of us actually saw him play in person, but we were there to watch every ball cross the net, and cringe at the cliches that Tim Henman and Andrew Castle rolled out on a daily basis.

Even better than the unfamiliar pursuit of seeing a Brit win at Wimbledon was the happy atmosphere that was omnipresent.  The weather helped, of course, but even total strangers were talking in the street about Murray's chances, and replaying each game as if everyone was suddenly a tennis pundit.

And of course, the papers were full of it. I know you can read all the news online, but there's nothing quite like ploughing through a newspaper and drinking in all the details and photos, and with newspapers at upwards of 2 Euro in Spain, we wouldn't have been doing that at home. No doubt all the papers will be offering Murray memorabilia for just a few tokens and a couple of quid in postage, so I'll be able to take advantage of any likely offers, and I'll get the glossy souvenir brochures which are sure to feature in the weekend press, so that's another good reason to Be There.

I was There when Spain won the World Cup in 2010, and although I'm not Spanish, it was wonderful to drink in the excitement between the matches. On the night of the Final, we went down to the village square in Algorfa - along with what felt like the entire population of our corner of the Costa Blanca. As well as the big screen brought in specially for the occasion, every resident had brought out their own televisions into the square, and the atmosphere was electric. We partied in the square until the early hours, and it's one of those memories I shall take well into old age.

The last time sporting history was made in the UK - when England lifted the World Cup in 1996 - I was on holiday with the family in Lloret de Mar on the Costa Brava. At 14 and football mad, I pleaded with my father to change the holiday arrangements, as I desperately wanted to see England win on home turf. Not unreasonably, he refused, with the rider that 'England will be well out of it before we even get on the plane.' 

It wasn't often that Dad's judgement failed him, but he was spectacularly wrong on that one, and although I managed to take in all of England's remaining games, it just wasn't the same as Being There.

The final was a great experience, as our hotel was mainly inhabited by Brits and Germans, so it was like a mini Wembley. 14 year old me got seriously drunk, as, with the wild optimism of youth, I forecast a 4 - 2 victory for England before a single ball was kicked. The English contingent promised me £1 per man if my forecast turned out to be correct, while  the Germans were laughing so much at my forecast they kept me supplied with beer all the way through the game. At the final whistle, I was very drunk and very rich - at least by 14 year old, 1966 standards.

So 1966 was also memorable for me, but by the time we landed at Gatwick, the small amount of hype over the victory had died down completely. The media will probably still be going on about Murray's victory when he steps out on Centre Court to defend his title next year, but we didn't make such a fuss about it back then - the past was a very different country.

Whenever footage of 1966 is shown, it's great to watch, but it's somewhat unfamiliar. We didn't even learn of the famous 'They think it's all over - it is now!' comment until a couple of days later, because in those days, the newspapers had to be flown across the channel. It would have been wonderful to Be There when sport's most iconic utterance became public.

So, what do you think? Do you like to Be There when sporting history is made, or would you rather be well out of it? We will also Be There for the Royal Birth - unless the stork is spectacularly behind schedule - and that's something else I'm rather looking forward to.

Four weeks after my daughter's stroke, when she could still not walk, talk or eat, her tickets for the first Saturday on Number 1 Court at Wimbledon arrived. Elizabeth is tennis mad, and every year, she and her friend, Lesley enter the open ballot for Wimbledon tickets. If they don't get tickets, they go up for the first day of the championship and pay the ground entry fee, because on the first day, you're guaranteed to see decent players on the outside courts.

When we told her the tickets had arrived, we said we'd have to send them back. She couldn't talk, but the vigorous head shake conveyed her feelings. Not wanting to discourage her by making it clear that she had a snowball's chance in hell of taking up those prized tickets, we just let her carry on thinking she'd be going to Wimbledon. After all, she needed something to aim for.

Long story short, on Saturday, Elizabeth took her seat on Number 1 Court. Okay, strictly speaking, it wasn't the ticket that arrived through the post. Her friend Lesley contacted the Wimbledon box office and explained the situation when Elizabeth was discharged from hospital several weeks earlier than expected, and the trip to Wimbledon looked to be on the cards. The staff were marvellous, and agreed to exchange the tickets for seats in the wheelchair access area. Not only were the girls stationed courtside, they only had to pay for one seat instead of two, as wheelchair users don't pay.

It took a military operation to get Elizabeth to Wimbledon - Lesley's daughter, who is a nurse, took the day off to drive them, so there'd be someone with medical knowledge on hand, and she also arranged for the loan of a wheelchair. Still, she did it, and the boost from her day on court has done more to aid her recovery than all the medications and physio in the world. She's worn out, but happy, and feeling that life can and will get back to normal after her stroke. As for me, I think it's a miracle that she's even out of hospital, let alone at Wimbledon. After all, three weeks ago, she couldn't walk, talk or eat.