With Mixed Feelings

Siege Mentality

I suppose I must be feeling more inclined to start the Blog again now that we have settled in to a new "high security" regime here in "Camp Bastion", San Carlos.

Every day at dusk I set pickets and arm the "claymores", read standing orders to my guard detail (she strongly objects to being shouted at though, just not military material that's all) and then settle down for the night. Then just before dawn we "stand to", do a short patrol to check that there have been no incursions and then, setting off for supplies, we secure the “base” and leave the "surveillance system" running to film any unwanted intruders - who we would willingly beat to within an inch of their lives with a golf club if we caught them.

Here is a view of "Camp Bastions" Square and Guard Room

When we return from "collecting supplies" and approach “Camp Bastion” quickly entering the main gate at about 30 miles an hour we start an immediate search of the area for itinerant robbers.

OK, I know I have made this sound rather dramatic but honestly at times it feels like we are under siege and it's very tiring.

The Weather again

On the bright side, the weather has been glorious every day since the middle of June really, in fact since the robbery! Perhaps a little too humid and not enough of a breeze to be comfortable but when you are sitting in the garden and all you can hear are the cicadas and the birds and not another sound, it could be paradise. We are surrounded on all sides by an abundance of weeds although V insists they are really "Wild flowers", I'd be wild too if I had to put up with V's weeding and my cigar butts and catapult missiles that I have been launching into the trees and "wild flowers" when I am bored.

Pregnancy and the future as a grandfather

A's pregnancy is progressing well and she now seems to be more comfortable with herself and not in so much of what sounded like panic at first. We even felt confident enough to buy her a little gift set of booties and a baby grow and we have also started negotiations about the funding of a new state of the art "Quinny" - The latest in baby buggy technology apparently?

We have met the father now he is also an A so for sanity's sake I will call him by his full name - Amancio. He seems " like a nice boy" not at all Latin looking and sporting some rather good looking David Beckham type tattoos which I am going to have to ask him about one day.

Packing

I have packed 44 boxes to date and only another 44 to go I think and then its wrapping and protecting the furniture for storage and shipment to Portsmouth. I am losing weight just through exertion. The next stage is to plan what we carry with us now that we have booked our flights and pick up from Gatwick on the 28th August.

A Change of Heart or when xenophobia sets in

I have to confess that I have recently developed a bit of a passion for “bashing the Spanish” as I seem to have suddenly noticed their every fault and foible.

When I first came here I used to find their devil may care and "mañana" attitude quite endearing and refreshingly relaxing but now I find it drives me to want to commit murder, to have road rage or to rant, as I am now.

For example, we tell people that we have been burgled and robbed twice and they look at us blankly and have to have it spelled out to them to make sure that the trauma of robbery gets through to them. Once this is achieved they invariably explain that this a very unusual occurrence here but then go on to relate that it has happened many times before, that it's “visitors” (they mean Rumanian or Moroccan immigrants usually) to the island and it that it wont happen again. Well it did happen again, twice and to us!

My next targets are the two “teenage” looking Guadia Civil officers who came to the house in response to our reporting the break in who probably get more out of wearing their nice green uniform and sporting their Berretta 9mm pistols than actually investigating and, God forbid, actually solving the crime. They arrived to the accompaniment of a loud pop CD in the patrol car and were here no more than 20 minutes, didn't spot a single clue until they were pointed out to them and then left with a cheery “Adios” and that's the last we will ever see of them. My faith in the Spanish police is now very poor.

Next, literally everyone we see is a suspect thief, even the poor old boy who rides past us on a beaten up old 1950's moped each day. When we are out in town V sits drinking her coffee outside Montesol eyeing the passing people to see if any are carrying her handbag or her Pall Corporation document case, no luck yet. Meanwhile I am studying cameras as Pentax is not a very common make of camera here and watches. Alas, we are being foolish and, we know it.

I'm not sure what V would do of she does spot the thieving swine but I know I wouldn't want to be in his shoes.

Yes, we are confident that he is a he, I think we can agree on a "he" and that he is short because he was unable to reach the top shelf of the wardrobe during his thieving spree. He is also rather well domesticated because he used the toilet, left the seat and lid up and flushed the toilet afterwards. He is also very fastidious because he found and wore the cotton gloves that V wears to protect her hands when she has put hand cream on at night so he used them to hide his finger prints. Oh! And he also likes Gucci Cologne and NOT Hugo Boss or Acqua di Parma because he left those behind. He will get caught one day and will surely suffer ... I pray! We are also convinced he is Spanish and known locally and we were targeted because we were “extranjeros” - foreigners.

I can't dig at all these people without singling out the local drivers who I can only describe as mad (enojado), stupid (estúpido), poorly trained (entrenado mal), reckless (imprudente), lack the ability to anticipate (carezca la capacidad de anticipar), expect the impossible from those they overtake (espere que el imposible de ésos que alcanzan) or turn in front of and quite literally deserve a good thrashing for their pure incompetence. They, the madmen who have somehow managed to lay their hands on a lethal weapon (A car) seem to have to drive everywhere at full speed without a glance in their rear view mirror and with not the slightest thought for anyone on the road but themselves - Oh to have them on a British road. Overtaking is like a scene from the Movie “Death Race 2000” and how there have not been head on crashes every day I just don't know.

I must stop as I'm afraid this Blog has become a rant but I just needed to get this lot off my chest and then settle back into a more positive frame of mind to carry on.... so I am taking a break.

Short break.... 19:40 (back soon)

OK, I’m back, now where was I?

Oh yes, I am going to be more positive about things from now on.

Yesterday I had to go and tax our car which turned out to be a lot simpler than I imagined it would be. Firstly, let me remind you what a Nightmare it had been actually buying the dammed thing. We had to get an NIE number but couldn’t get one until we had registered with the council and then our friend who was selling it had to sell us one that was near the end of its tax period… and on it went.

We have the three critical bits of paper now that allow us to sell the car, the registration document, the ITV (or MOT in English) and the magic receipt to prove we had paid the tax.

We found the Taxation office in an obscure part of Ibiza Town and went to the 2^nd floor where our friend had told us to go. However, here they don’t have a ground, first, second etc. The ground is first and the first is second… still with me? OK, so we went to the wrong floor and having been sent down a level we found the inevitable queue of people clasping blue tickets with numbers on. We cast about like lost souls (the Spanish were as confused as we were thankfully) looking where to get these passes to heaven but there was no dispenser. We then worked out that the dispenser was actually a woman behind another counter who without a word simply took my car documents, fiddled with her computer and the walked off leaving me with a blue ticket and my registration document. Queue number two was slowly plodding forward until suddenly it was our turn to present our little blue ticket I held out my papers which the lady ignored and with out a glance in my direction simply said “sesenta tres y cuarenta” and I paid and left! No eye contact, no please, no thank you and no good bye. Was this a case of “No Country for Old men”?

I am now working out all the things we need to do when we get back, I have a list:-

1. Rent a place to live for 6 months

2. Get a car / Road Tax / Car Insurance

3. Get a TV licence

4. Change the address on our Driving licences (Don’t know what to do about this given we will / may be moving again soon.

5. Get a telephone / TV / Internet Package

6. Set up Council Tax

7. Gas / Electricity

8. Get a Doctor / Dentist

9. House Contents Insurance

10. Part time Job

Is there anything to add? If my readers think of something please let me know!!

Haircuts

For the past 11 months I have been (with considerable help) cutting my own hair, well shearing it off with a set of electric clippers. V has become fairly adept at the job but I have been engaging in a bit of haircut DIY in between times. There have been no noticeable disasters but I now feel like a proper haircut so it’s back to Mel at the Barbershop in Chichester as soon as I can. I will be leaving my hair a little longer now as I think the grade 2 / 3 is something I will come back to later on.

Missing Friends

I have to confess that I have missed my friends a lot and not having another man to talk to has been a bit odd. The men I do know here have very limited English so there is not much in the way of conversation to have, it’s a bit lonely. The one person I can talk to at length is Manel (the car hire chap) but he is working in Playa den Bossa the remaining people are V and A and once a month, G who is V's hairdresser. Oh I suppose ordering a coffee from a waiter is another “conversation. I suppose I trying to say that I am bored, sad isn't it?

Boredom

I suppose that the loss of my camera has made things difficult for me as I will have to wait to come home to get one as believe it or not, they are now cheaper in the UK than in Europe! I am waiting to see what I can get hold off once I have raised the cash again. Hmmm I think may be a Nikon D60 ….

OK that's it! I have read that all this anger wont do me any good and that I have to take a breath and use these misfortunes as life's learning experiences... Not on your life! I am going rant and rage as it feels so much better.

Bye until August..............................