Here's more.....

Pipe Nightmares
I think that Favio is at his wit's end. Obviously digging the floor up is, at the end of the day, all things considered, going to cost an awful lot of money. Probably a necessary evil but just right now not one he seems prepared to face up to. Next move is, I believe, to employ a camera, poke it down the pipe from one of the toilet pedestal terminals in order to find out just what is going on. At least doing that might mean that the hole can be dug in the right place and kept to a manageable (costwise) size. In the meantime though, yesterday, Ana-Mary (Favio's wife) found herself mopping out while she was finishing decorating the tree and I noticed Favio himself doing it again somewhile later during the family get-together they held in the bar last evening. Of course due to my cold I can't smell it! Welcome relief. But enough about pipes. Talking to Ana-Mary while she was with me last night (decorating the tree) she was kind enough to comment that my Spanish is coming along very well. Which can, in no small way, be attributed to my lack of the Russian language and Larisa's lack of English and that brings me on to my favourite subject..........

Never say No
My cancellation last Friday was not taken lying down. Oh no. Part of the "Get well ditty" I received was a recipe for a Salt & Bicarb gargle and a mention of "Crema Antiseptika." Then Saturday morning, 11am, my convalescent snoozing in bed was disturbed with "Hello how are you? Well I hope" to which I replied "Sore throat is better but now I have a Cold and still staying in bed. I'll call you when I'm better" That should do it - peace and quiet for a few days. Nope. Saturday evening, 8-30pm, while at work, I got "If tomorrow you are well you can come to my place to eat". I gave in - "OK, what time?" And got immediately back "1200, 1300, when you want. Call me when you are on the way and I'll meet you at the bustop" She had a cold just the other week remember? I left her alone until she called, having recovered, remember? But she knows that I am not at death's door because she knows I am still going to work every evening 'cos I told her, so she's got me by the short 'n curlies, no excuses.

You no Listen?
This last weekend, actually starting last Thursday, has been a major National Holiday with shops closed left, right and centre. But luckily, yesterday, Sunday, the Supermarkets opened for a few hours to catch up on lost trade so I was able to buy a bottle of plonk to take with me. "Marquesa de something-or-other" it was. A half-decent dry white.

Here we are in early December hurtling towards Christmas at umpteen thousand miles-an-hour through space only to find me txting from Fuengirola that I'm catching the 1145am 220 in 25C in the shade!!! There must be some truth in this Global Warming mullarkey. Some while later, still clutching said bottle and with streaming eyes and running nose (yes I know, but life ain't always just about roses) I met her as arranged, only to be greeted with "Mr Derek!! I said only if you are well!" 'Scuse me? I've been trying to tell you that I am not well for the last two days! "Did you make the gargle?" A diplomatic "yes" left my lips. Then I asked about the crema. "Ah. In Russia we can get a cream which you apply to the top of the throat with a suitable thingy but I don't think that you can get it here." Remind me not to ever go to Russia with a sore throat. I do NOT fancy a thingy stuck down my throat with a splodge of Antiseptic cream on the end. Give me a Zube any day. Continuing to natter (in Spanish of course), on we went up the hill. I'm sure that it was steeper this time and in the heat I began to leave much of my cold in little wet patches at my feet. But eventually we got to the top, indoors and then, out on the terrace in the (almost) searing heat, I was allowed to collapse onto a garden lounger.

No, sólo descansas!
I remember giving her something to do in my Kitchen that day I had her, Katy and David over for a Dinner Party and then having to watch her promptly "take-over" the whole caboodle. I actually enjoy the togetherness while squabbling over the potato peeler but my offer of help was met with "no, you just rest!" "Can I have some wine then?" "Yes, the corkscrew is in the drawer". "Do you have any ice? This wine is red hot" and out I went, back to the lounger. When I opened my eyes again a short while later (to a very soft and very Russian accented "pliz" - she was saying "por favor" in English) the terrace table was laid and ready and I hadn't heard a sound. Not one.

Seafood soup? No. Lentil Soup, Lentejas. Followed by Russian style Ravioli (with a salad). Knowing full well that I adore Lentejas just as much as I'm addicted to Seafood Soup she still asked "do you like Lentils". And she won't have forgotten that together we bought Ravioli for me in the Russian Grocers in Málaga once.

I wasn 't late for work, and conversation with Ana-Mary was easier. Practice (even with a Spanish speaking Russian) makes perfect. But I'm still not brave enough to use the phone properly. Body language and comprehension go hand-in-hand still. I never ask her to slow down either. Many foriegners here (including me) speak their Spanish quite slowly but Lary doesn't. She fires it off like a natural. Full of mistakes of course, because it's not her native tongue, but nevertheless full of confidence and nowadays I rarely misunderstand her. For me, talking to her is proving to be exceptionally good practise. I have never forgotten that day, a couple of years ago now, sat in Restaurante Lanjáron Neuvo when she said "talk to me" and my ensuing blank expression prompted her to pick up her Russian newspaper and start reading. I have never given her that excuse again. That was one salutory lesson, very cleverly exercised.

I've been given Katy's email address so that I can chase up those photos that she promised to send me and hasn't, yet.