Mule

Mule

As far as heatwaves are concerned we’ve got off quite lightly so far. Just one day of 38c the rest has been a rather pleasant 33c or so. Inland Andalucia can get some extreme temperature especially heading westwards to Cordoba and Sevilla provinces.

One year when my oldest two had gone to stay with my father in the UK we took the youngest to Cordoba Zoo. Or we tried. It was closed for building work so we popped over the road to the Botanical Gardens, much to my delight, and no it wasn’t planned! Chatting with the guy behind the bar and having a typical moan about the heat he said that we should have been there the week before when they had over 50c! No way! How can you live and breathe in those temperatures. At this time of year my excursions are limited to the necessary ones and the swimming pool! Oh, to feel cool if only for a while.

 

Struggling to but doing it I’m out walking at 8 am every morning and this last week I saw what appeared to be a man getting his mule out of the garage. Sadly it’s becoming a rare sight now, when we first moved here  a frequent occurrence was a mule going into the house, actually they were usually side doors leading down to a basement. Shame I didn’t have a digital camera back then. There was also a time when passing the petrol station there was a mule stood waiting at a petrol pump. What a good photo that would have been! It had two panniers and the old man was filling petrol cans directly in the panniers. Probably for a strimmer for his olive grove but such a great photo op.

 

Mule

Mule

This weekend it’s the fiesta in my hamlet. Every hamlet, town and city has one when there’s a party, quite often a procession of decorated carriages, trailers, hand carts, basically anything on wheels is flounced and prettied usually with spotty flamenco polka dots and loaded with chairs, people, dogs, beer, tapas and most importantly loud speakers to compete with their neighbouring carriage – it’s a colourful and some noisy affair. The Spanish tend to be loud speakers themselves, my theory is they have to speak and shout loudly to beat the loud speakers or TVs, my suggestion is they lower both!

Our house happens to be right next to the little chapel where the main party is held, so quiet it is not. Over the years we’ve taken ourselves over the hill and not far away to stay at our holiday home so we could get some sleep, but even from there the rockets can be heard.

 

Romeria

Romeria

As it’s fiesta weekend my youngest wants to borrow my ancient 4×4 Suzuki and complete with trailer him and his mates take tables, chairs, gas bottle, barbecue, trunks etc. to have lunch down the river track where there’s a little natural pond. We used to take the kids down there years ago, non of that paraphernalia for me – just a bocadillo, a french bread sandwich. Interesting word that. Boca means mouth and dillo  is usually a diminutive – bocadillos are never small! Feeding up the kids, especially boys is a major pastime.

So as it’s cold beer and tapas time, I’ll love you and leave you. Think of me wilting and (almost) wishing the summer away for some more user-friendly weather.  Not many wanderings even though it’s my holiday time. Chill out doesn’t really work here – Warm up is better suited.

 

See you in two weeks….

 

 

Rachel Webb

 

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