Life in Culebrón

We've just been out for a drink in Arrondias. Now you'd think getting a drink would be easy peazy for old hands like us but not a bit of it. All over Asturias they drink cider. It's like scrumpy, a bit cloudy and 6% alcohol. It's not like Woodpecker or Strongbow because it doesn't have bubbles. Obviously that won't do. Cider should have a bit of a head. In the first bar I asked for a beer, Maggie was on the wine. Over in the corner a couple of blokes were using the WiFi Internet and drinking cider. The cider comes in 70cl bottles like wine and on top of the bottle there was a sort of contraption a bit like a soda siphon that made a whirring sound and dispensed the frothed up cider. The web surfers only ever used the machine to dispense a couple of mouthfuls into their glasses at any time. Bar number two. We ordered cider. The barmaid poured out a decent mouthful into the bottom of a glass by lifting the bottle above her head whilst she held the glass some...

We're not in Culebrón at the moment. We're in Asturias and it is raining quite a lot. Asturias is on the North coast of Spain just a bit across and down from Cornwall. We came to have a look at the village of Lastres because a TV programme we like, Doctor Mateo, based on the British TV series Doc Martin is filmed there. Lastres was a bit grotty and the few restaurants that there were were remarkably pricy. Instead we had lunch in Colunga just a few kilometres along the coast. We had Fabada Asturiana which is a bean stew with black pudding, spicy blood sausage and a fatty bacon like substance. We should have drunk cider along with it but I stuck to water as I was driving. Everywhere in Spain boasts some sort of traditional food and whenever tourists turn up in the region they ask for the local speciality. So, in Valencia you'd order a paella, in Extremadura it would be migas (breadcrumbs and fatty pork), in Galicia you have no choice but to eat either octopus or pimiento...

We moved into this house on 1 April 2005. Today I put up our very first smoke alarm. It was an advert on British TV the other night that made me think to get one. I'd have got more but they don't seem to be readily available in the shops Smoke alarms and carbon monoxide monitors aren't exactly conspicuous fittings but I'm not sure that I've ever seen one in a private house here. Certainly there are none of those publicity campaigns to persuade people to buy and maintain them. It's a strange difference. Perhaps Spanish houses don't burn or maybe because the majority of the windows in the majority of Spanish houses are barred people prefer to die in their beds silently slain by smoke, rather than to die scorched and screaming pinned flat against unyielding iron bars.

I just told Maggie the story about the King and the hearing aid shop. She wondered if the shop assistant would take the call from her mother and leave the King waiting just like they do every other customer.

The Zarzuela palace has confirmed that the King wears a hearing aid. Journalists began to suspect that he did when he was seen leaning close to hear someone speak at a public function. The hoot though was in the last line of the news story. Telecinco (A commercial TV station) had film footage of King Juan Carlos coming out of a hearing aid shop! Can you imagine the scene in Buckingham Palace? "Philip, I'm a little fatigued, might you go to the hearing aid shop and purchase a few spare batteries on my behalf?

I was just trying to remember how we met Paul but I can't. He's English though, he lives in Culebrón and we expat Brits just tend to bump into each other. I know scores of people to nod at or to speak to occasionally without knowing anything about them except their first name and one other key fact. "Hi Robert, how's the folk dancing going?" I know Paul's family name and we know his wife too. She, amongst other things, is Maggie's Avon rep. Last night Paul had his 50th birthday party at the one remaining bar in Culebrón. It's a British bar called Litani and Tim, who I know relatively well (without knowing his surname), runs the bar there. Tim is a big man, he's got tattoos, he was a butcher and he's returning to the UK to drive lorries. I've always liked Tim. Last weekend we took my mum to a place called El Cortijo over Paredon way to get Sunday lunch. She said she was surprised that Maggie and I were going to a British run place for ...

The toilets at Beeston YMCA used to get vandalised a lot in March. My caretaker had a theory. Winter should be over, Spring tantalises us - snowdrops, daffs and the occasional day when the sun shines but then, bang, freezing cold, driving rain - winter all over again. The youngsters didn't think it was fair, they'd been cooped up too long and they took it out on the toilets. I think that same effect is why I haven't been writing blog pieces. We're waiting for something to change. So this is a rather contrived entry. And it's too long. Our house is in Culebrón in Alicante and our rented flat is in Cartagena in Murcia. Some 110kms or 90 minutes journey time separates the two. We do the journey frequently coming back to Culebrón as often as we can mainly so the cat can have a bit of a run around and murder smaller animals. So, down our track and on to the twin carriageway road up to Pinoso hedged in by vines, almonds and solar panels. Into town, into Pinoso. At 7...

I haven't made any posts for a while because nothing much has happened that relates to the generality of life in Spain but I thought I should post something to prove that I'm still alive. I didn't get the job . They didn't take to me but that was probably for the best as the working day was based around shifts and the journey from Cartagena or Pinoso would have been difficult and may have led to Maggie and I living in separate places again. I've been buying cheese, rather than shampoo , for the marketing people. This time I had to buy different brands but with the same expiry date for each brand. It was very difficult to get the number required with the correct date. This time at least I understand why it was being done though I'd better not say as I hope they may give me more work. My mum's here at the moment for a week to sample the delights of Cartagena and Culebrón. She has been shocked to move from the very temperate climate of Cartagena to the b...

The rights and wrongs of running cars in Spain, originally registered on foreign plates, is one of the staples of the many expat Internet bulletin boards. Whatever the legal technicalities the idea is pretty simple. If you live in Spain your car should have Spanish plates, Spanish insurance and the rest whilst if, for instance, you live in the UK your motor should have UK plates, tax, insurance and safety checks. Living here means you spend more than 183 days of the year in Spain. A Swedish chum who lives in Pinoso was pulled over at a police checkpoint a couple of weeks ago. Her car, which was running on Swedish plates, was briefly impounded until she was able to register the vehicle on temporary "tourist" plates. Now she is going through the process of re-registering on Spanish plates. The police told her they were having a bit of a blitz on foreign cars and that there would be no fine (I can't remember whether she said that could have been two or three thousand euros...

On 12 February 1826 good King Ferdinand VII granted independence to Pinoso from the larger nearby town of Monóvar. Nowadays, on the most appropriate Sunday nearest the 12th, the town puts on its gladrags, well lots of traditional smocks and frocks, to celebrate the town's coming of age. The main event centres around eating - as do all Spanish celebrations. In this case punters buy eight tickets which can be swopped at the participating stalls for a drink, a snack or other edibles. It starts slowly but by 2pm the site is heaving with people balancing wine glasses and local delicacies on paper trays as they elbow their neighbours to create enough eating space. Spaniards have a remarkable facility for eating without stopping speaking and the noise level is incredible. As it all starts to tail off the heaps of rubbish and food on the floor become more noticeable and make for an interesting orienteering exercise. As well as the food there is a traditional competition a bit like hors...