Life in La Unión

Migas, is an very old and very traditional Spanish dish created to make use of stale bread. It was traditionally eaten by shepherds. It's easy to see why if you imagine them spending days on the hills limited to what they could easily carry with them. Stale bread flavoured with garlic and olive oil or lard cooked over a camp fire is a lot better than nothing. On good days the migas might even include the spicy chorizo sausage, ham or salted pork. I was in one of those little road trains. The things that hold you up in your car in the narrow streets of historic city centres. A man was holding forth on the different versions of migas. He was agreeing with the guide who, outside the interpretation centre dedicated to cave dwelling, had told us a little story. You need four people to make good migas - she said. Un tacaño, un generoso, un estupido y un listo or a tight fisted person, a generous person, a stupid person and a clever person. The miser won't put sufficient w...

I don't think I'm particularly stupid. I've always been a little antisocial in a no dancing, no karaoke sort of way and that's probably getting worse along with my ever whitening hair. Nonetheless I don't think I'm unpleasant. You wouldn't know that though if you were speaking to me in Spanish. In fact you would be certain I was stupid, rude and grim faced. The people I work alongside are a pleasant bunch. The boss invited us out to eat on Thursday night to celebrate his birthday and I really - really, really - didn't want to go. When my colleagues speak ordinary speed Spanish between themselves using everyday idioms I don't know what they are saying. This annoys me. I would use another expression that includes an expression related to sexual intercourse combined with another related to directional urination but my mum reads these blogs so I won't. It upsets me that I spoil their evening by sitting there glum faced and I go home cursing mysel...

Maggie tells me I'm a bit deaf. She says I have the telly and the radio on too loud and that I don't understand her. Me, I didn't think there was a problem. Maybe I have problems understanding Spanish and I hope a bit of extra volume will help. In fact I like to use headphones or earphones when I can. So today I went for a hearing test. I was a bit annoyed that they kept me waiting as the parking meter ticked away and when the woman beckoned me into her office with a "Come on" I wondered if we were going to have a conversation in broken English. But no, she let me speak in Spanish. Broken Spanish instead. The test was simply a range of beeps in each ear at different frequencies. "Perfect" she said. "For my age?" I asked. '"No, more or less perfect, a bit of loss of low frequency in the left ear but absolutely fine." It was a good answer. Hearing loss may have given me a good excuse for my problems with Spanish b...

I've never really understood the Britons who live in Spain but very seldom actually visit the country. They stay at home listening to British radio, reading British papers and watching British TV surrounded by British food. I see no problem at all with keeping up with news from the UK or liking steak and kidney pudding - Britishness courses through our veins after all - but it often seems to be done at the expense of anything Spanish. These people do not have the vaguest idea about the history or geography of their new home, the culture passes them by and their knowledge of what's happening to the country is generally secondhand rumour. Even New Year is celebrated at GMT not local time. I've heard Britons talk about red letter days on the calendar. It's not something echoed by Spaniards but it makes sense. Public holidays must be printed in red on calendars I suppose. Its not unusual for my compatriots to be unaware of these holidays. They know about British bank...

Mucha gente me ha preguntado sobre mi estado de animo ya que estoy de Rodriguez. ¿Estás bien viviendo solo? dicen. Sí, estoy bien e, inesperadamente, ¡estoy consiguiendo alimentarme sin ninguna ayuda! Por supuesto la vida de un soltero tiene sus desventajas pero tiene ventajas también; más espacio en la cama, dominio total del mando y sin la necesidad de desplazarme de habitación en habitación apagando las luces. Llenar el tiempo es fácil -  de hecho no me queda suficiente tiempo para hacer lo que quiero hacer. Siempre he sido un escritor de listas – las cosas por hacer -  y esta lista está tan llena como siempre. Los quehaceres de la casa, un libro para leer, tele para ver y la batalla continua de dominar el español - una batalla que a Maggie le encantó recordarme, en una de nuestras conversaciones por Skype - que nunca ganaré. El curro es una rutina obvia. Día tras día tengo que repetir los mismos consejos repetidas veces. A cada uno; pues la mayoría de mis alumnos, come...

As long as I can remember I've liked the radio. As a youngster I was perturbed when some programme we listened to on the radio most weeks had finished when we got home late. The idea of programmed programmes was way beyond my comprehension. Lots of programmes, from the Clitheroe Kid to the Today Programme are a part of my history. I like radio because it does not demand your attention in the same way as television. You can do the ironing to either but you can't drive or shower or clean the cooker to the TV. I also find television egocentric - about personallity - whereas radio is much more about the content. I never did take to that zoo radio style where the presenters loved the sound of their own voice much more than the music. Informative too. So much information on the radio. Spanish radio is pretty good. I'm at a bit of a disadvantage in that, at times, sections of it waft past my ears without me understanding a word especially when it's just normal people tal...

I don't get a lot of calls on my mobile but you can guarantee that when I do it is when I am stuffing a turkey, cleaning the lavatory or at least driving. It happened today. I was cleaning grease from under the electric hob when the phone exploded into life. It was a Madrid number which usually means someone trying to persuade me of the benefits of some wonder product. I nearly didn't bother to answer. The woman checked who I was, said she was calling from my bank and asked me if I knew anything about a payment from Iberdrola, the electricity supplier. I didn't. She mentioned a name associated with the payment which rang no bells at all. Don't worry about it then said the woman and went away. Five to ten seconds after the phone call was over I realised what it was. The landlady of my new flat, whose name I hadn't recognised, had asked about paying the electric bill directly from my bank account. She'd gone and done that and I'd just told my ban...