This little piggy...

Last weekend we went round to Matt's dad's for lunch. The meal was as good as always, but the title of this post does not refer to my good self and the amount of food I scoffed (although, admittedly, it could). No, the heading refers to the highlight of the day:

A pair of Vietnamese pot-belllied pigs seen on the post-prandial walk we undertook to help lunch go down. They belong to Matt's dad and Carolina's neighbours and both came running at the sight of us, or rather the food we were carrying for them, which disappeared in no time. The little one was a real sweetie and lay down and dozed while Carolina scratched it's neck.

It turned out to be an animal-filled stroll after that: we were offered a four-year old Dacshund with a slipped disc by another neighbour. We politely declined, fearful of the wrath of our cats. And then we met a beautiful Siamese-tortoiseshell cross who was quite happy to be picked up and stroked, despite the yappy Basset Hound pup she was sharing her barn with.

We almost topped the day off with a camel or two on the drive back - they were appearing the the local town's Xmas Parade (the 6th January is when everyone gets their presents in Spain). We missed them, however, as we purposefully turned in the opposite direction and headed home, bellies full and thinking of cute black pigs.

Things I don't like about living in Spain, part V

Hands up who spent 26th December at home, eating leftovers in front of the telly, with friends in the pub, or just generally relaxing.

Well, you can all feel very smug because I spent it at work, and with a hideous cold that'd started the day before. Yes, that's right. Spain, land of the public holiday, does not recognise the 26th December as such (unless you're fortunate enough to live the Balearic Islands or Catalunya). Next time I bang on about how many national holidays I enjoy here you can all remind me what happens on Boxing Day. Grrr.

New Year's Day

Happy New Year everyone! I realise I have been most lax with my blog recently and hereby resolve not to let this happen again in 2008.

Despite our hearty New Year's Eve celebration - I wore pyjamas and we drank cava and red wine aplenty - I felt fine enough by 4pm yesterday to go on the walk that Matt insisted upon: it would 'do me good' as he put it, although I would've been just as happy to skulk indoors.

Getting up to the land above our house is always a bit of a trek, never helped by the fact that Matt seems to glide effortlessly up on his long legs while I puff and pant and struggle to keep up. I usually have a good moan about it and then enjoy myself once I'm up there. It's hard not to, especially with the weather we've been enjoying recently.


Finally up there, and yes, I admit it, it was worth it (but I'll still complain about the walk up next time).

Naked trees

The lake catches the sun's light

More disrobed trees

Getting home, just before the sun sets

You may have noticed that the mountains currently have almost no snow on them. This is set to change very soon with a week's rain forecast and snow above 1000 metres. So, in preparation, today I have been mostly sawing wood. With a little help.

It's not so bad when you have company.

Panic Over

'Tis the season to be jolly because it seems I spoke to soon about my trusty camera, which is still functioning after all.

Here, to celebrate, is a picture of a sunset from a couple of evenings ago.

Solstice

First of all, let me apologise for the lack of photos in this post. It seems my camera has turned into a vampire as it sucks all the life out of the batteries before I can get a single photo taken, and spending €26 on new rechargables has not helped the situation. And this just when I wanted to entertain you all with pictures of the mulled wine, the grand lighting and our roaring bonfire. Although, to be honest, ones of me after one too many mugs of wine were never going to be posted anyway. I wonder if it's too late to convert and ask Santa for a new one?!

It's always wonderful to arrive home to the smell of mulled wine, especially when there's a warming chilli 'sin carne' awaiting too. So, defying the rest of El Entrego who all seemed to be determined that I should have a Feliz Navidad (I really should learn how to say 'Winter Solstice' in Spanish so I can wish everyone a happy one in reply), we scoffed our dinner and, mugs of spiced wine in hand, went outside to enjoy the evening. The night was clear, the moon almost full and the stars winked cheekily at us in the crisp air.

Bonfire lit, we spread out an old blanket and enjoyed the warmth and spendour of the fire, which I imagine could be seen all the way down in the town. We were soon joined by all three cats who took great delight in having an audience for their clowning around the kale plants before deciding that the stange glowing object wasn't a threat and coming to sit on the blanket with us. Eventually they got bored and went in, but we stayed out until gone midnight, sitting, watching, contemplating, and supping beer once the wine had run out.

We made it to bed at about 1.30 this morning with the plan of planting our peas today and preparing the bed for garlic. However, the weather has turned and it's been raining since mid-morning. Instead I'm planning on lazing next to the fire with a good book.

A real nip in the air

This last week has been getting distinctly chilly, a far cry from the start of winter last year when we were still picking tomatoes. To make matters worse we've been getting up early for all sorts of reasons, curtailing my snug mornings in bed as I wait for the temeprature to rise.

The advantage to this is catching the first rays of sun on the mountains in the morning. And before everyone stands back in complete shock and thinks I've somehow overcome my innate aversion to rising from bed at a 'decent hour': the sun doesn't get over the mountains here until about 8.30am, although I do still like being able to say that I get up with the sun.



First sun of the day on the mountains


As the sun rises over our valley

I'd like to be able to say that I have been inspired by the natural beauty of the early morning to rise at a similar hour next week. However, I know myself too well and I expect that I shall be snug in bed waiting for it to warm up before I sneak so much as a little toe out from under the duvet.

Academia bits 'n' bobs

In the pell mell existence I sometimes lead at work, rushing from one lesson to the office to the next, I'm sometimes surprised into stopping, looking and marvelling. This week it was a twelve-year-old student who amazed me. Whilst his erstwhile companions were noisily milling around the entrance area waiting for class to begin, he was perched by the window, quietly humming Beethoven's Ode to Joy to himself, oblivious of all around him.

The previous week I'd been suprised my a ten-year-old who, in English, had told me that the President of Great Britain was Gordon Brown. After teaching the phrase 'Prime Minister' he quickly informed me that the previous one had been a certain Tony Blair. I congratulated him on his knowledge and and exercised some willpower so as to refrain from giving my own opinion on the subject.

Sometimes students just make me grin. Another twelve-year-old announced to me this week that he'd dreamt the world was going to end. It was a horrible dream, he said, the human race was wiped out by a nuclear attack. And which evil megalomaniac had pressed the button that cause all this distruction? Why, Homer Simpson, of course.