Blogs in this series

Life in Culebrón is a very British view of life in a small village in Alicante province, my experience of Spain, of Spaniards and sometimes of the other Britons who live nearby. The tabs beneath the header photo link to other blogs written whilst I was living in other parts of Spain, to my articles written for the now defunct TIM magazine and to my most recent photo albums.

Monday, November 26, 2012

May I bring this meeting to order

It was the Annual General Meeting of the Culebrón Neighbourhood Association today. As is now usual we were greeted effusively by lots of people. As usual we had the meal beforehand. As usual we had a choice of rice and gazpacho. As usual Maggie and I sat with Mari Luisa, Daniel, Marisa, Carol and David. As usual there was a gap next to us at table.

With the tables put away, the paella pan scrubbed clean and the prawn heads picked up off the floor it was time for the Annual General Meeting.

The AGM is always a bit disorganised. At least by UK standards it's a bit disorganised. When I say a bit disorganised read absolute chaos. Sometimes there is an agenda but today there wasn't - no minutes either. Of the four key members of the committee - Chair, Vice Chair, Treasurer and Secretary - only the Chair and the Secretary were on hand. With little else to lean on the meeting hinged around the accounts.

The slightly inebriated Secretary started by eulogising the Village Mayoress and the President of the Neighbourhood Association. He made more or less the same remarks every hour for the remaining three or so hours of the meeting. He employed quite colourful  language too - very Kenneth Tynan.

The original fifty or sixty diners dwindled down to maybe ten people. I drank five whiskies, generous whiskies, from a bright pink J&B bottle, during the meeting. The President resigned but, as nobody was willing to take her place, the Secretary suggested she stayed on another couple of years so that she would resign at the same time as the village Mayoress. This apparently made sense. I was happy. She is one of the few people in the village with email.

We were told that the Village Hall didn't really exist as a legal entity which was why we couldn't let any Tom, Dick or Harry donate a gas cylinder to fuel the stoves to cook the paella. That's why gas featured in the accounts! We heard a few times how the President took full responsibility for not delegating responsibility. It's true that she mopped up her own spilled G&T. The President and Secretary complained that nobody was willing to help at Villazgo or carnival time. I dared to speak. "I think it's because we don't get asked." The Secretary  told me I was wrong. Fortunately nobody else heard because they were all talking to each other. I was on the front row. The President asked me if it wasn't true that the trip to Benidormm had been excellent, I agreed, it had. It was decided we would go to Benidorm again.

I was going to have a sixth whisky and see it out but, for no real reason, I chose to slip away instead. I didn't quite see where we were going.

Except Benidorm of course

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