Friday 31 December 2010

the perils of not having a Spanish keyboard - by Theo

Unlike French computer keyboards, Spanish ones are basically the same as English ones, which is generally helpful. However, when writing in Spanish, our English Mac Book is deficient in two important ways.

Spanish has two special characters. The first, the tilde, is an accent. While it doesn't change the sound of the vowel it marks which syllable should be stressed in words that don't follow the usual rules of pronunciation. As a non-native speaker I find this extremely helpful; pronunciation (even in English) has never been my strong suit. So, if it's just to do with how you speak Spanish, should it matter whether you include the tilde in written Spanish? Often it doesn't, but sometimes the tilde is the only indication of a change of tense. For example, hable means "he speaks" while hablé means "I spoke", hablará means "he will speak" while hablara means "he spoke (subjunctive)". So, out of context, the lack of a tilde can change the meaning. (Compare this to the English verb "read", which looks the same in both present and past forms, but is pronounced differently in each case.)

However it's the second Spanish special character that really causes problems. It's the 'ñ', pronounced n-ye, and often found with its own separate listing in Spanish dictionaries. As such using an 'n' instead of an 'ñ', a completely different letter, changes the meaning of the word entirely. This is particularly a problem around New Year when wishing Spanish friends a Happy New Year electronically; año means "year" while ano means "anus". Much copying and pasting individual 'ñ's from the El Pais website is therefore required.

So, Happy Anus Everyone!!

Lots of love and thanks for reading - we wish you love, peace and happiness for 2011!

Theo, Kate & Rosie x

Thursday 30 December 2010

Miss Rosie's Feeling For Snow By Kate

How wonderful for our tiny daughter that the magic of a white Christmas was bestowed on her for her very first one. The same thing happened to her mother, in fact. And it's taken me another forty years to experience a winter wonderland on December 25th, so it was a rare privilege to share it with my first born.

Rosie, of course, didn't register the specialness of the occasion, although she did take a passing interest in the cold white stuff surrounding her, as you can see on the clip.

I think it's safe to say her reaction to snow was a tad dubious and the relief on her face when she was whisked away in her Daddy's arms is plain to see.

Wednesday 29 December 2010

She is the passenger - by Theo

Before we left for Cathy & Jean's, a 1000km journey, which, sticking to Spanish and French speed limits, is about 9 hours, Kate started a thread on Facebook which got a swift and speedy response. She asked how Rosie, on a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being the infanta Jesusina (no crying she makes) and 10 being the sister of Satan, would cope with the trip.

Most respondents figured we'd get an hour of quiet reflection followed by 10 to 11 hours (allowing for stops) of the kind of hell on four wheels usually reserved for Chevy Chase movies.

But it turned out that Rosie is basically the world's best infant passenger (in our humble opinion). Sure, she whinged a bit, but no more than she would have done out of the car, and thanks to Kate's tireless entertainment efforts Rosie napped, ate, laughed and chortled most of the way there, and most of the way back. Hurrah!

Monday 27 December 2010

White Christmas - by Theo

Considering we had thought that Rosie's first Christmas would be spent with only her parents in their Madrid flat, things certainly turned out differently. Not only did she wake up to find Santa Claus had visited in the middle of the French countryside surrounded by snow, but she also ended up spending Christmas Day with her Nonna and Papi Jean...and the extended Gerdolle family as well.

Marcel and Margitte are old friends of Cathy and Jean's, and are also their landlords, therefore we've met them and their son Phillippe and his wife Silvie many, many times before. Thinking that Cathy and Jean would be on their own for Christmas, Marcel and Margitte invited them to join their family for Christmas Day, a rare honour in France, and naturally the invitation had stood even once we were added to the bill.

So, after I had traipsed through the snow for an hour with a snoozing, snow-suited Rosie slung to my chest, we headed over to Silvie's house for 12.30 aperos. Very sweetly they had bought presents for Rosie, so she now has toys that talk French as well as ones that speak English and Spanish. Sadly her parents aren't quite so trilingual, but we managed to just about communicate in a melange of French with Spanish words thrown in.

Christmas Day lunch was very different from what we would have cooked for ourselves, but still very enjoyable. While our hosts, who included Silvie's parents, her two young children and Margitte's mother, tucked into oysters, seafood salad and foie gras, we stuck to the veggie option of salad and grapefruit. Kate had made a nut roast for our main, which was delicious and even tempted a few of our French friends to try a bit as they tucked into potatoes dauphinoise, green beans and venison. Pudding was the traditional buche, a yule log essentially; their second attempt, as a magpie had stolen the first one as it chilled on the window sill!

Kate and I took Rosie out for her second sling nap - the roads being far too thick with snow for the buggy (despite the photo above), though actually it's rather lovely having our little girl snoozing so close to us - and we returned just in time for the obligatory game of belote, a whist-like card game extremely popular in these parts. I acquitted myself reasonably well I thought!

We got back in time for Rosie's bath and Christmas Day phone calls on Skype. It certainly beat being on our own.

Friday 24 December 2010

Just in time - by Theo

We made it to France, just in time. If we'd left it a day longer to set off, or stopped overnight en route, we wouldn't have made it. The snow that has been causing such chaos in the UK has moved south and we woke this morning to find the hills around Cathy & Jean's blanketed with thick, white snow. Where they live is so rural, the roads so tiny, there wont be any snowploughs coming to clear the roads. We may have a 4x4 but we wouldn't have got through (and, if it doesn't melt, we won't be getting out). You see, after spending €94 on snow chains for Delilah Delica, I promptly left them in the hall back in Madrid. Boy do I feel stupid!
Anyway, we're very pleased we're here. We may be snowed in, but we've got lots of food, drink and wood for the fire, not to mention great company (and wi fi!) It's also extremely beautiful, and I've really enjoyed the two longs walks with Rosie in the sling and Cocky the dog so that the former could have a nap and the latter a walk. It's so quiet and still, and I've seen not a soul.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone. See you when the snow thaws!

Wednesday 22 December 2010

The Pain in Spain falls mainly... - by Theo

...in my mouth.

It's been quite some time since I last went to the dentist. I don't trust the drill-happy buggers; the last one I had in Clifton (the Mall) talked me into having my wisdom teeth removed (expensive, painful, unnecessary) and filled my mouth with so much silver paste you wouldn't think there was enough tooth left to actually support a cavity. However, over the past few weeks one of my molars has developed a bit of an ache so, after the obligatory prevaricating and procrastinating (I was an arts student after all) I finally booked myself an appointment at a nearby health centre.

Typically my tooth then broke and stopped hurting. However, I felt I shouldn't see this as good news, so still went along to my appointment having learnt the Spanish words for 'filling' (empaste) and 'cavity' (carie). After a cursory glance the cheerful dentist said, "Yep, there's a cavity. So do you want me to pull it out for you?" When I replied in the negative, she explained that if I wanted a filling I'd have to go private as I couldn't get anything other than an extraction on the Health Service. I should expect to pay between 30 and 50 euros for a filling.

The dentist across the road from us quoted me €90, which I shied away from rapidly (it didn't hurt that much!) but I eventually found one nearby that would do it for €50. Still the top end of the scale I'd been quoted, but definitely better than the first place I went to.

Now, I'm not so sure. They immediately decided I needed a tooth reconstruction, which would be an extra €65; they are damned good at getting money out of you these dentists. Twenty minutes later, after lots of painful drilling despite the injection, I was done and €115 poorer. Still at least my tooth was fixed.

Later that night, while brushing my teeth, the pain from my newly fixed tooth nearly made my eyes water. The dull throb has been transformed into a searing pain when combined with a cold liquid. Great.

Tuesday 21 December 2010

Pueblo Ingles Reunion - Theo

A couple of weeks ago we met up with our friends from Pueblo Ingles who, in many respects were the reason we moved to Madrid (and didn't stay in Barcelona) in the first place. Some, like Belen, we see regularly here in Madrid, others like lovely Amalia, who lives in Valencia less often, while the charming Alfonso and Silvano we somehow only seem to meet up with at this now annual event, which is a real shame. [Cesar we of course see very regularly - but he never attended Pueblo Ingles, hence why he ended up taking the photo!]


Very sweetly they had all acquiesced to our request for a non-smoking eatery and had even gone one step further, by booking a vegetarian restaurant, Al Natural, in the centre just off Calle Alcala. We were slightly apprehensive about how Rosie would cope; not with the new faces as she's usually fine after a period of adjustment, which she proved, but with the timing. The booking was for the very Spanish time of 2pm; her afternoon nap is at 2.30pm. Hmmmm. We decided to simply take it in turns pushing her around outside and to switch half-way through.

In the end it worked out fine. When I took Rosie off at 2.20pm not everyone had arrived; when I phoned Kate at 3.10pm then hadn't even ordered!! As it was, we switched 15 minutes later and I still got a starter, Kate coming back in with Rosie moments after they'd served the main course; our group was the last to leave the restaurant (at 5pm!). They'll make Spaniards of us yet!

Monday 20 December 2010

Those Hollywood moments.... By Kate

Rosie gazed up at me and my heart flip-flopped inside my chest as she opened her mouth and uttered her first word: "Mama."

And then I woke up.

Theo commented a couple of weeks ago that he'd imagined more "Eureka!" moments as a parent - first smile, first time rolling, first time crawling, first words etc. etc. - but they haven't happened. And he's right.

Rosie's firsts simply haven't been definitive. Neither of us can remember when she first smiled properly because it was a gradual process until one day we realised the rictus she had been sporting really was a smile. I had to take an executive decision on whether the hands and knees thing she was doing really counted as crawling and it took a further three days before it was undeniable that she really had got the idea.

As for first words, well, they've happened. We think.

Rosie says "Mama" a great deal, or "Mum" or "Umma" - and often in such a way that it seems to be addressed to me. I always answer "Yes, Darling?" anyway. Just in case.

We've also had "Dada", which seems to be uttered more when Theo's around. And I'm pretty sure she's saying "Yes" quite a lot. "Dat" is another one she comes out with a fair amount and my theory is that she means "that". Or something.

The one moment Theo and I CAN recall was the first time Rosie laughed. She was about five months old. We were all in our bedroom and Theo was playing with her, making silly noises and faces. Suddenly Rosie made a sound we had never heard from her before and our mouths fell open. It was most definitely and indubitably a chuckle.

I'm sure we'll get more and more meaningful chatter out of Rosie as she continues to develop her vocal abilities. But in the meantime, her laughter will more than tide us over.

Friday 17 December 2010

And she's off.... By Kate

Rosie's been on the point of not-quite-crawling for weeks now - then, over the last few days, with a bit of help (room rearrangement to facilitate free movement) and a few confidence-knocking head-bashing moments, she suddenly realised she could get herself places instead of wailing for Mummy or Daddy to help her out.

The world - or at least our flat - is her oyster.

Let the baby-proofing commence.

Tuesday 14 December 2010

Christmas Cheers - by Theo

Let me state something clearly now. I may be married and a father and more often than not already in bed by 10pm on a Saturday but I in no way feel I am 'missing out'. Nonetheless, I am often curious, when listening to my colleagues tales of what they got up to the night(s) before, usually because I don't quite understand how they manage to stay out until 7am. Leaving aside whether, either through drunkenness or tiredness, I'd be able to keep myself awake that long, I think I'd simply get bored staying in a bar that long. Not that my work colleagues are boring, but I honestly think the only time I've stayed up all night have been at festivals or seriously good parties. Bed (especially if Kate is in it) beats bar for me every time.

Anyway, last Tuesday's staff Christmas party gave me just such an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, as we all ventured out on the boss's euro. As we had to wait until the last class finished (9.30) we didn't get to the bowling alley until 10 where, yours truly "Thunder" Berry took an early lead with my partner Scott over Jane and Marina, with me scoring the highest across the lanes in the first round. In the second we were paired with the boss, Will, and last year's champ, Tim. Tim's form had been off and Scott and I quickly built a lead. The boss was not happy; some disparaging comments about Tim's future employment prospectus. Selflessly I decided to throw a couple of tactical gutter balls for the sake of my colleague's job security - the amount of beer I'd consumed had nothing to do with this - thus allowing the boss the victory he so craved. Sadly it also meant I surrendered my high score as Jane, who we had previously vanquished, was having a stormer on lane one. Oh well.

So it was gone 12.30 when the taxis arrived in torrential rain, and dropped us back on Calle Alcala near the Geographic Pub where, like Cortes's conquistadores, we swiftly pillaged the bar and colonised the most comfortable sofas. The boss was still buying - hurrah! - and though a few of my weaker colleagues made an early exit we were still 8 strong by 3am; the last customers in the bar. I confess the time passed swifter than I might have imagined; I hadn't intended to stay out so long. Anyway, by this point a motion had been passed to head on to the "legendary" (well among my colleagues anyway) Vertigo bar, an odd little place under a shopping centre which my colleagues regularly frequent as a) it has a pool table and b) it's the only place in the barrio open after 3am.

I went along for one before realising that I really, really should be getting home while it remained an option. I did, after all, have guests coming for lunch the next day. As to my colleagues, I am still none the wiser really; for while Vertigo was indeed a curious place, with a pool table no less, I still feel no desire to frequent it quite so often. Once is surely enough.

Thursday 9 December 2010

Water on the bridge - by Theo

Spain seems to have no end of "Puentes", or 'bridge' weekends, where a holiday during the week means that people invariably take the workday off to extend their weekend. Last weekend was a particularly long one with Constitution Day (Dec 6th) falling on the Monday and the Day of the Immaculate Conception falling on the Thursday (Dec 8th), hence meaning some people effectively got a 5 day weekend! Not me - I had to work the Saturday and Tuesday - but I'm not really complaining. It was, however, an extremely wet weekend, the rain bucketing it down, and hence we spent most of it indoors.

On Sunday we entertained our Senegalese friends, Prince and Ibrahima. Rosie has met the brothers several times before, though of course she has no memory, but after a bit of staring she quickly relaxed and had a great time with them, as you can see!



We first met them in our Spanish class, and although we communicate now in Spanish it's embarrassing how much better they are than us considering we've been learning for the same amount of time. They also speak about 4 other languages, although not English. Ibrahima plays football for 1st division youth team (Las Rosas), so we're hoping to go and watch when he plays Real Madrid - should be something!

The following day, Monday, we headed out to San Sebastian de los Reyes, to Belen and Cesar's, where we were joined by David and Nataly (David, as ever managing to stay out of the photos.)

Belen cooked us a delicious veggie paella and Rosie had a fab time attempting to eat their rug, Cesar's pointy Moroccan slippers and Nataly's hair. She seemed particularly enamored with Nataly, permitting herself to be cuddled, which she almost never does with us.

I elected to do the afternoon buggy nap, but miraculously the rain clouds stayed over the town, while I walked Rosie around the park laid out on the outskirts - very strange and fortuitous!

Tuesday night, after a relatively quiet set of classes - many students were away - it was our staff party - bowling and drinking. To do full justice to both my colleagues and the evening will require another blog, but suffice to say I stumbled home at 4.30am rather worse for wear. Kate, lovely, gorgeous, sensitive woman she is, let me lie in until 11.30am, though I still woke tired, hungover and really, really pleased I'd invited friends for both lunch and tea!! What a good idea of mine! Hence I found myself pretty quickly in kitchen cooking lunch when I really wanted to be lying in bed feeling sorry for myself.

In the end though it was a lovely lunch, with Jon and his new girlfriend Sophie, who seems charming and mercifully happy to speak English - I was in no state to attempt Spanish! They even brought pudding. I did the afternoon nap with Rosie which went some way to helping to clear my head, and then I got back to have tea with our photographer friend Anne (who had been invited to lunch but had declined on dietary grounds) to round off our very sociable, if very damp puente.

Monday 6 December 2010

The lengths we are prepared to go.... By Kate

As a parent, sooner or later you realise that you would take a bullet for your child, should it ever (god forbid) become necessary. In the thankful absence of such dramatic events, there are other smaller yet no less significant acts of self-sacrifice that happen on a daily basis.

Today, Theo and I carried Rosie in her buggy down four storeys' worth of stairs and up again (cursed lift on the blink...) so she could have her essential nap. Theo elected to do the buggy walk, so he got himself appropriately dressed for the persistent rain.
I think it's fair to say that whatever remained of his dignity after months spent wearing a flowery backpack has now entirely disappeared.

The things we do for our beloved daughter.

Sunday 5 December 2010

Spanish lessons - by Theo

People often ask, with the full range of possible motivations and insinuations, why we moved to Madrid. (Why!?!) The answer is rather simple: because I wanted to learn Spanish. OK, there's more to it than that, and it wasn't just my decision, but moving to Spain to learn Spanish had been a long-standing ambition of mine that Kate, thankfully, was happy to go along with.

So here we are. In Spain. That's part 1 sorted. Now, part 2 - the actual learning. It was all going pretty well until Jan 2010, with Kate and I going regularly to lessons, but then something happened, I can't quite remember what around January this year. We just stopped. I thought that maybe, given we now had a solid grounding, we would just cruise along, slotting new vocabulary and idioms in to the grammatical framework we had acquired. However, by the end of the summer it was clear that this simply wasn't happening. So, I began to form a plan.

The problem with lessons had been that the ones we'd gone to were always in the morning, at around 10, finishing at 12, a good 45 minutes journey from our flat. Given that I was now working until 9 every night, this made for a long day, a rushed lunch and little time with Kate and Rosie. What would be great would be to be able to have my Spanish lessons at my place of work, immediately before I started work. That way it would be just a case of going into work a little earlier. My boss had no objections to me using a room there, provided one was free. So far so good; now just to work out how to pay for it.

Spanish teachers - like English teachers - are pretty thick on the ground here in Madrid. However, they also charge about the same - €20/hour more or less - so, unless I suddenly won El Gordo (the Spanish lottery) I was going to have to find some fellow students to split the cost with. So off I went on a recruitment drive among my fellow teachers at the two branches of the English Language Academy where I work. I was thrilled to find that at least 14 of my colleagues were interested; now came the headache of timetabling and level testing. Tuesday and Thursday, at my branch, from 1pm until 2.30pm was my ideal time; naturally then, after taking on board everybody else's preferences, the advanced class ended up being on Monday and Wednesday at 12 at the other branch. Oh well.

So, I now had my Spanish classes, at the outrageously cheap rate of €5 per 90 minute class. Bargain. The teacher was a friend we'd met while he had been training to become a teacher - we'd been his guinea pigs as it were. We had a space to hold the classes. All good. However, I also now found that I had, along the way ended up with responsibility for a beginners' group as well. Well, naturally - they didn't speak Spanish, so I had to do the negotiations for them.

We're now heading into our third month of classes, and they're going really well. We've reviewed past tenses, which are often confusing, and prepositions, which are always confusing. Next we'll be tackling the subjunctive. However the content of the classes has been the least of my concerns; it's keeping people at them that's been the problem. As the cost is split between those attending, if some students drop out it makes the class more expensive for those who stay on. This has become a problem, although not in the way I expected...

Among the other teachers who come to the advanced class with me, two have Spanish boyfriends. Another spent his Erasmus year in Granada, while another has been in Spain for over 3 years. If anyone was going to drop out of the classes, I would have expected it to have been one of them - after all they are already pretty good. But instead it's been the beginners that have been dropping like flies - from an original 7, they are now down to 3. I don't understand it - do they not plan to learn Spanish at all?! Perhaps not. Several have complained that they can't afford it, which I again fail to understand - we are all earning the same, yet they'll be paying less rent (living in shared flats) and don't have a wife and child to support. It's not like they'll find classes any cheaper elsewhere. Oh well; si los de mi clases seguen, me da igual.

Friday 3 December 2010

The Mortal Enemies of Naptime by Kate

How many miles (kilometres, sorry - we are on the continent, after all) have Theo and I walked in the name of Rosie's precious daytime sleep? We've certainly got to know the roads around our barrio very well and have also pushed a snoozing Rosie across the very heart of Madrid, passing such landmarks as Sol, Plaza Mayor, the Ventas Bullring and the Retiro Park. As long as we're properly attired for the weather, don't need to empty our bladders and Rosie co-operates by actually nodding off reasonably quickly, then it's an enjoyable way to get a bit of fresh(ish) air and exercise.

But it's hardly what you would describe as a relaxing stroll. Nope. The savvy pushchair navigator has to be constantly alert to all the circling hazards that can kill a nap without a second thought. They are many and various and include:

1) Stopping the pushchair. Getting the timing right at pedestrian crossings is a tricky business and Theo and I have both been observed running full tilt to catch the green man, walking v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y to avoid stopping at the red, or doing figure-eights or back-and-forths on the braille pavements to keep that essential forward motion going at all times.

2) The changing weather. Manic re-positioning of the parasol to avoid sun rays hitting Rosie's reposing eyes; enveloping the buggy in the rain cover (or indeed removing it); hastily improvising wind-breaks with bits of string and bulldog clips... all of this without stopping (see point 1).


3) Sudden sharp noises. During the deeper part of her sleep cycle, Rosie can sleep through pretty much anything. But when she's moving from one cycle to the next, typically at the half-hour mark or thereabouts, any number of sonic interruptions can effectively assassinate the remaining nap. These include:
*dogs barking
*toddlers throwing tantrums
*vehicles tooting (junctions are dangerous - Spaniards tend to be very impatient with cars that don't move forward the instant the light turns green, or preferably, a second or two earlier)
*air-brakes (buses are the worst culprits)
*emergency sirens
*roadworks
*chatting Spaniards (they tend to talk VERY loudly)
*chatting Africans (they tend to talk EVEN MORE loudly)
*mopeds and motorbikes
*baby-loving passers-by ("Que cosita!!" They shout at our sleeping daughter, ignoring our pleading expressions as Rosie's eyelids start to flicker alarmingly)
*buskers (I'm a music lover, but I could cheerfully kick a hole through any accordion threatening my baby's sleep. It usually is an accordion.)

Any of the above can send us skedaddling down side-roads, sprinting across parks, executing 180 degree hand-brake turns with the buggy - or any means necessary to avoid Rosie being woken prematurely.

Which is why an hour and a half of successful sleep from Rosie while out and about tends to feel like a mission as we set out and imparts a glow of satisfaction when we return with the snooze quota fulfilled. But it's no wonder that after the initial stampede to use the loo, we buggy-navigators need to sink gratefully onto the sofa with a calming cup of tea. Those walks are almost always fraught with incident from the most innocent-seeming sources. Strolling has never felt so adventurous.

Thursday 25 November 2010

old haunts and old friends - by Theo


One of the very first restaurants we went to when we arrived in Madrid was an excellent Indian restaurant on Calle de Echegaray, in central Madrid, when I met for the first time some old friends of Kate's, the Frosts. Now, nearly two years later, with both families being one more in number, we met up again for a delicious, if late, Sunday curry. We even sat at the same table!

Ian Frost, the patriarch of the clan, went to school with Kate's dad - that's how far back the connection goes, and his and Jill's daughter Kirsty lives here in Madrid, along with her husband Juanmi and, now, baby Emily, who is 6 months older than Rosie. Sadly Emily wasn't feeling too well, but we (Kate, Rosie and I) had a lovely time nonetheless, with Rosie delicately munching on a poppadom. Funny to think how much has changed for both families since we last met there, and how much better we all know each other.

The following day, Monday, we were back in the same area, although one street over, at the delicious Artimesa on Calle de Ventura de la Vega. One of the first veggie restaurants we'd found in Madrid, we hadn't been for ages but picked it as the spot to meet up with Clara Molden, an old University friend of mine, and her friend Nat, both former Madrid residents here for a long weekend. Clara was always an amazing photographer, with her pictures regularly featuring in various Magazines I was involved with back in Bristol, but I hadn't seen her for sometime - she now lives in London and works for a picture agency, her photos now gracing the front-covers of British broadsheets. It was lovely to see her again, reminisce and hear about her work; what she's achieved at such a young age, in a very competitive and male world is incredibly impressive. She's been on 4 week long hostile environment training, photographed numerous stars and occasionally taken the odd, mundane shoot as well! How ironic then that none of thought to take any photos!

Sunday 21 November 2010

The Pub Quiz Ringer - by Theo

Last Tuesday I got an email from my old student, Javi, inviting me to a pub quiz that Thursday night. I hadn't seen Javi for a while so I accepted; the last time we'd been to a pub quiz together it had been organised by the first school I worked at here in Madrid, Cambridge House, and we'd done rather well, coming second and winning €100 in the process. However, money wasn't the motivation; it would be nice to get out for a change. I also decided to invite my friend Jon (who knows Javi) along as well.

So Jon and I turned up at O'Neils in Calle Principe - as you might guess from the name, it's an Irish pub - to find that, as I suspected, it was yet again the Cambridge House pub quiz. I said hello to my former boss and some old colleagues, then found Javi. Most of the teams there seemed to consist of Cambridge House teachers and their students, with the odd boyfriend/girlfriend thrown in. Not Javi's. He was the only Cambridge House student in the team. The others, Paulo, Pablo and Angel, were Spanish friends of his, plus Pablo's American girlfriend Kasey and a German intern, Karl, who worked with Angel. We then co-opted a Cambridge House teacher, Alanna, as the rules stipulated we had to have a CH teacher on our team, and her US housemate Ryan, and christened ourselves "The Magicians".

It soon became apparent that our team existed for one reason only - Javi's desire to win! We were pretty much all ringers. I was there for the geography and history round (8 out of 8, I thank you) while Angel and Karl ruled the entertainment round, Jon contributed some humdingers to the general knowledge, with pretty much everyone else pitching in at least twice. By the time the final round, music, came we were five ahead of our nearest competitors, guaranteed a podium finish and needing only 6 out of ten to secure first. In the end we only managed 5 (there were some terrible and very modern choices) but it was more than enough - the €150 first prize was ours!

After we split it 10 ways it just about paid for my three pints of Guiness!

Thursday 18 November 2010

Ouch! By Kate

Theo and I are basically peaceable types. Well, we both rabbit on a fair bit and have a tendency to speak in loud voices, but it would take a lot for either of us to lash out in anger. We're Pen Mightier Than The Sword people on the whole.

So where has our daughter's violent streak come from?

I've sported myriad red marks from Rosie's pinching fingers, had blood drawn by her scratching nails and a ribbon of bruises decorating my shoulders from her over-zealous rooting.

As evidenced in the clip below, all hair is fair game.


But what's most disturbing is the casual nature of Rosie's savagery. I say "ow" and she thinks it's a huge joke. She just laughs and pokes a finger in my eye.

Wearing Rosie in the sling has become an especially hazardous business. Although, the comedy value of observing her expertise at tweaking Theo's chest hairs can't be understated. Who said schadenfreude was dead?

Sunday 14 November 2010

damn...forgot the camera! - by Theo

We keep forgetting the camera, which is unlike us, and rather annoying as there have been a fair few photos ops of worth lately.
First of all we had a lovely afternoon over at Bianca and Ollie's (Stephane was away) on Tuesday. It was yet another public holiday, and Kate had volunteered my chefing services to Rosie's pal Ollie's Mum. Ollie's got a nice big carpet to roll/sky dive on, as well as plenty of toys, and they were both quite chuffed to see each other, which was very sweet. Bianca grabbed a few shots, but we were sadly sans camera.
The next occasion was just pure forgetfulness on our part, as we were at home when one of Kate's former employers Brigid popped round for lunch. Originally from Liverpool Brigid is great company, but as she's such an international jet-setter, dividing her time between Madrid and Amsterdam, we rarely get to see her, which is why it was doubly a shame that we neglected to get a photo of her with Rosie.
Clearly we had not yet learned our lesson as we again forgot to take the camera with us yesterday when we ventured out for a walk in the old Royal hunting grounds and former civil war battlefield, the Casa del Campo. Our friends Rebecca and Fermin had invited us for a delicious veggie lunch at their posh new pad in Aluche and suggested a pre-lunch constitutional in the park beforehand. A marvelous idea and sadly one that will have to make do with with this blog by way of documentation.

Friday 12 November 2010

fussy eaters

I've cooked for a fair few fussy eaters in my time. Mentioning no names - you know who you are! ;-) - there have been those with self-imposed regimes, the vegans and manic-organics, and others whose various, often quite bizarre allergies (or, possibly, phobias) forced me to rather drastically change my culinary habits. None quite top my darling daughter however.

It's not so much the fussiness that gets me, more the unpredictability. Just three weeks ago she couldn't get enough of some of my culinary creations: pear, broccoli and chickpeas flavoured with clove; red lentils, squash, ginger and garam masala; puy lentils, coconut, leek and sweet potato; carrot, coriander, roasted pepper and lentils. Rosie would happily gobble down up to three ice-cubes worth, perhaps followed by some natural yoghurt. Finger food, however, held zero interest to her, with the possible exception of the fun game of throwing something on the floor so Mummy and Daddy have to pick it up.

That's all changed. For the past couple of days the roles have reversed. Even the normally rapturously received greek yoghurt has prompted whingeing, while many previously favoured purees are now given the hamster cheek treatment: she'll keep accepting food, but rather than swallow it keep in in her cheeks until it reaches a critical mass where upon, with no small ceremony, it is expelled, bib-wards. However, she has now developed a serious interest in finger food - cheese on toast, pasta, roasted veg and mango are all top treats as far as the little tot is concerned.Babies. There's fussy buggers. But we love ours!

Saturday 6 November 2010

Hands up!


The latest fun game with our darling daughter has been to put things on her head and watch as she delicately and predictably tries to reach up to grab them.


It's wonderfully cute, especially as her arms are still baby-sized and not really long enough.

Saturday 30 October 2010

Aranjuez - by Theo

A hour south of Madrid, surrounded by arid plains, lies the royal retreat of Aranjuez. It was here, among the fields of asparagus and strawberries on the banks of the river Tajo, that the Bourbon monarchs built their Spring residence in imitation of Versailles. So, while it wasn't the season to taste the produce Aranjuez is famous for, we decided to use the visit of my parents as a reason to take the car for a run and get out of the city for a day.After coffee and croissants on a cafe terraza (much to the surprise of the waitress "pero, que frio, no?") we strolled first in the beautiful and huge Jardines del Principe, the trees looking gorgeous in their autumn colours, admiring fountains and follies while Rosie snoozed in the pram. We chanced the menu in El Rana Verde (the green frog) where we managed to find enough veggie options for Kate and I. My parents weren't up for trying the house specialty - frog's legs - sticking with the relatively safe option of steak.Much fun was had during desert by offering Rosie, who had chowed down her puree and yoghurt, a slice of lemon. She masticated away enthusiastically, before pulling a priceless face, then going back for more. Learning takes a while.

More parks followed to walk off lunch, this time in the Jardin de la Isla, an artificial island behind the Royal palace, created by building a weir on the Tajo and diverting a channel. Rosie got a ride in the sling to enjoy a better view of the galleries, aviaries and fountains. A beautiful walk on what had become a warm and sunny autumn day.

Time was getting on and Rosie needed her next nap (in the car this time), so we never actually made it inside the palace. A good excuse for a second visit, then.

Thursday 14 October 2010

Food, frustration and fun By Kate

For almost four months Rosie has been exploring the wondrous world of food. Weaning is the correct term, but I think she's drinking as much milk as she ever did, so it's possibly not accurate. Yet.

Since the first post on this subject, we have discovered a shop in Madrid which sells organic baby food that isn't loaded with unnecessary added salt and/or sugar (UK-made). But it's heinously expensive, so definitely only for emergency situations.

Luckily, after initial despair that Rosie would never condescend to eat the pureed preparations lovingly crafted for her by her Daddy, she soon started to respond more willingly when they were offered. Not to absolutely everything you understand, but as Theo got the hang of baby cuisine and sussed what Rosie's palate would be more likely to accept, we had more hits than misses.

Fruity stuff goes down well, not surprisingly, as do concoctions involving lentils and chick-peas - providing they're well spiced with ginger and/or Garam Masala. Orange stuff is usually preferred over green stuff, but green stuff is deemed acceptable if sexed up with added fruit. Greek yoghurt - taken plain or with added fruit - is an ongoing favourite.
Finger food goes in and out of favour. Roast veg were a big hit to begin with, especially courgettes. Now she spurns those, as she does the potato wedges she once enjoyed and tends to favour red pepper and well-cooked carrot.
Cheese has gone down well (we haven't tried strong-tasting varieties yet except goat's cheese, which wasn't exactly successful) and bread remains popular, although rice-cakes are now preferred over toast. Pasta is generally welcomed, especially if it's rigatoni and almost all fresh fruit is eagerly consumed.
The main problem Rosie finds is that over-enthusiasm for something leads to an over-crammed mouth which she finds almost impossible to empty. Instead she'll look perturbed and wail loudly until the problem resolves itself (the food melts down into more manageable proportions) or a parental finger is inserted to help ease the situation. She'll then spurn the remainder of the offending food as if it's to blame for her predicament.

If dining gets too onerous and Rosie's tolerance levels become exhausted, there's always a fall-back position: the Mummy And Daddy In-house Cabaret. See below for details. Then you can always sneak in a spoonful or two while she's distracted by the live entertainment.

Wednesday 13 October 2010

Lost in Translation - by Theo

Yesterday was the Dia de Hispanidad, which does lose a little something in translation, and a national holiday here in Spain and elsewhere in the Spanish speaking world - given the events of today I wonder whether there will soon be another national holiday in Chile. But that's another story....

Kate and I had a lazy day off, made extra lazy by the fact that Kate had arranged (as an extra birthday present) for our Canadian friend Miriam to take Rosie out for a walk for a couple of hours in the afternoon so we could, for once, enjoy a siesta un-interrupted. Bliss! The laziness continued into the evening and, after dinner in front of an episode of the Wire, we were contemplating bed at around 9pm when the phone rang.

It was my friend and former student Juan. Juan works as a lawyer at a multinational financial firm. He speaks perfect French and excellent English but he is not a translator. However, at the last minute, despite it being a holiday, his firm had dumped a 10 page legal document on him and asked him to translate it into English by the next morning. He was at a loss and wanted my help. Seeing as his English is better than my Spanish I was doubtful about how much help I could be, but as he sounded so desperate I said he could come round - provided he bring some beer.

In the end I quite enjoyed it. Juan had done most of the work, I just needed to check it over. The original Spanish document was dull enough, but was also surprisingly easy to understand as it was very formal and lacked the idioms and colloquialisms that are often confusing in everyday language. In addition many of the Spanish financial terms were exactly the same as the English - take a wild guess what "liquidacion" or "deducion" mean - which of course were easier for me (working Spanish to English) than Juan, who was less confident about the English vocabulary.

Anyway we got it done. Mind you, if you hear of any legal or financial scandals in Spain involving mistranslations, then you'll know who to blame!!

Monday 11 October 2010

So, Theo enters the 30th decade by Kate

Theo's birthday today so I donned some red lipstick for the occasion (last of the twenties, important to be marked by some sort of vigorously youthful colour...) and Rosie snuggled up and joined him dancing to some old skool hiphop on the radio...
Happy Birthday, Daddy! The first time anyone's truly said that to him (well, I did on Rosie's behalf, anyway).

Saturday 9 October 2010

babytalk - by Theo

Consonants are the easiest for her. "dadadadadadadad" or slightly less frequently "mamamama" - I'm wondering whether it was babies that named parents, just as we name them. Other consonants such as 'p' and 'k' also appear, and Rosie seems to have a good handle on the tongue click, which will come in handy if she ever wants to learn Zulu. Occasional vowel-laden yodeling matches are great fun, getting some call and response going - goodness knows what the neighbours think of this.

Of course capturing it all on film is easier said than done. Rosie is captivated by the camera and easily distracted by it, though mostly in a "shiny-thing-wanna-put-in-my-mouth" kind of way. Luckily, although she's started to pull herself upright, crawling is still a couple of weeks away, else there would be no keeping her hands off it.

Saturday 2 October 2010

Fluency Schmuency - by Theo

Coming from a country with one of the lowest rates of knowledge of a second language in Europe, if not the world, it's hardly surprising that we should misunderstand what it is to truly master a foreign language. In England we talk about being "fluent" in a language, usually equating this with having complete control over said tongue.

Not so. Fluent, from fluid, simply means to be able to talk without hesitations or significant pauses in a smooth stream of words. Your pronunciation may be atrocious, you might put the emphasis in totally the wrong places, your prose could be littered with errors and you might be completely incapable of understanding the response you elicit. Doesn't matter; you're fluent, and as far as most English people are concerned, that's enough. Forget the fact that native speakers might be completely confused by your gnomic (yet, fluent) utterances, we feel we've done our bit by blurting out our foreign phrases in one, smooth go.

Before moving to Spain I was just as guilty of this, equating fluency with being able to 'speak' a language (also a bad term - after all it's not much good being able to 'speak' a language if you can't understand the response). In fact, upon taking one of my first classes for Spanish learners of English and finding all my students to be incredibly fluent and generally faultless in English, I was astounded to discover that they were studying for the Cambridge First Certificate in English. The First Certificate. There are two more, higher level exams after that, Advanced and Proficiency. As a rookie teacher I struggled to imagine what more these almost word-perfect teenagers had to learn about the English language. I mean they were fluent, what more did we want?

My own learning experience of Spanish and my continual struggles with French have enlightened me somewhat. I am now 'fluent' in Spanish, though I'm still a long way off being word-perfect, or understanding the majority of things said to me in Spanish. Hopefully though, after 10 months of intermittent self-study, I'll be getting back to Spanish lessons and striving to improve. Or rather I'll be bringing Spanish lessons to me, having persuaded many of my teaching colleagues to band together for an in-house teacher. Meanwhile, having been allotted 4 classes of Proficiency level students in this academic year's timetable, I'll be finding out exactly what more there is to learn about English beyond fluency.

Thursday 30 September 2010

The Battle of Sleepy Corner III By Kate

More than eight months have passed since I last had an unbroken night's sleep. Actually, that's inaccurate. Given my bladder's propensity to require emptying at some point overnight (especially during pregnancy) I can't actually remember the last time I had an unbroken night's sleep. No, a total of around seven hours (with a minimum 4-hour stretch included) is the elusive - but vaguely realistic - dream I've been chasing. So is there dark at the end of the tunnel?

The answer is a cautious "possibly". After several months of Rosie managing little more than two hours of sleep before waking up and calling for me, something had to give. Her wakefulness (and therefore mine) was getting worse and her ability to resettle without part of my anatomy clamped between her lips (specifically, a nipple) was non-existent.

I decided she would have to learn to nod off without my assistance. So I tried the gentle ways of encouraging sleep sans breast: patting her tummy gently and saying "shh..."; picking her up to soothe her then putting her down again (and repeat ad infinitum); gently unlatching her after she had finished feeding but before she had fallen entirely asleep and putting her down.... and it all made her worse. Angry and distressed to the point of hysterical. Of course, the moment I put her to the breast, she would calm down. But then we were back to Square One.

So I took a deep breath and put Rosie down to sleep after her bedtime feed, kissed her goodnight and left her to it. I listened outside the bedroom door as she wailed in protest, poised to go in the moment her cries sounded like they were becoming truly distressed instead of frankly frustrated. They didn't. Instead, they became increasingly intermittent and after 25 minutes, she was asleep. She woke again a few hours later and again I waited to hear if she would get seriously upset. She didn't and once again, fell back to sleep. The third time she awoke, she didn't make any noise, just fidgeted a little, then fell asleep again. The fourth time she fidgeted for a long time, then fell asleep. By the fifth time it was almost 6am and my milk-engorged breasts felt like a pair of rocks strapped to my chest. This time I fed her and at the end of the feed she allowed me to put her back down for more sleep without protest. This was progress indeed!

The next night followed a similar pattern.

On the third night, I put her down to sleep at bedtime and left the room. Ten minutes later I asked Theo if he could hear anything. He replied in the negative, confirming my suspicions. She had fallen asleep without a murmur.

Three weeks later, it's rare Rosie makes any kind of a protest at bedtime. Even if she's wide awake, she's generally able to get herself off to sleep without Mummy (or specifically, Mummy's breasts) being involved. And it's had a huge impact on her overnight wakings. In general, twice a night now, instead of a minimum of five.

Not only that, but Rosie has now been moved into a cot (after co-sleeping with us since birth) - a change she took with equanimity - and then into her own room, so Theo and I would no longer disturb her with our fidgeting/snoring during the night. Rosie's sleep pattern has remained the same - not perfect, but a hell of a lot better than it was. As for me, I can't sleep because I'm finding it strange not to be able to hear and feel my baby sleeping (or not) beside me. But even that's improving.

So why have her naps gone to pot? Half an hour is the most she can manage in a static situation.

In answer, we've had to resort to The Magical Sleepy Pavement. It seems the only way Rosie will stay asleep for longer than thirty minutes at a time is if the wheels of her pram are thrumming the ribbed paving of our barrio. So now Theo and I take turns to slowly walk the streets while our offspring takes her siesta.
On the plus side, the weather is still good here and it's a fine way to get out of the flat and have a little gentle exercise. I just don't want to think about the onset of winter.

Wednesday 22 September 2010

The Big Four Oh... By Kate

So, I've hit forty. Actually, I would like to think I got there in a more decorous fashion, but it probably wouldn't be true. I could say I have started my fifth decade, but that's a bit scary, so I won't.

What a good job I have a thoughtful, loving husband who appointed himself in charge of celebrating the end of decade number four in such a way that I would at times forget the age aspect of the whole affair. The very fact that he is eleven years my junior is helpful in itself - I can now spend one year and one month bragging about having a husband in his twenties while I'm in my forties. I fully intend to do so at every opportunity.

Anyway, back to the birthday weekend. I wasn't very good at suggesting special fortieth-type birthday presents (a hair-brush and a new baby-carrier were the best I could come up with) so Theo decided his main present would consist of persuading my sister to transplant herself temporarily from the far west of Cornwall, her husband and four children and come and stay. What a winner! I would have been knocked sideways if it had been a surprise, but the fact that I discovered the plan ahead of time meant I could enjoy my birthday present even more by luxuriating in some pleasurable anticipation too.

So Bex duly arrived on the Friday evening and I stayed up beyond my customary nine o'clock bed-time (made necessary by my beloved multiple-waking baby daughter) to greet her and clink glasses of Cava.

The next morning I had a surprise extra birthday present from Rosie in the form of a lie-in until 08.00. Seeing as her customary getting up time is between 06.00 and 07.00, it was a princely gift. OK, she still woke up a few times along the way, but I wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth.
More of the Cava was duly consumed in the form of Buck's Fizz with freshly squeezed orange and after a birthday present opening session (thank you cards now being written to the kind donors...) the four of us set off to the small town of Chinchon, about 50km outside Madrid.
There we met up with our friends Bianca, Stephane and Ollie; Kirsty, Juanmi and Emily Grace and Anne. After a stroll around the picturesque streets of Chinchon (famous for its anise spirit, garlic, local wine and buns in the shapes of breasts and testicles...) we settled down on the terraza of a restaurant in the Plaza Mayor and enjoyed a long and leisurely - and rather tasty - lunch. Even the babies were inclined to remain mellow, either napping in their prams, grinning and allowing themselves to be passed around for cuddles or a bit of high jinx in the town's bull-ring.The next day we took Bex on a fast-paced Sunday tour of Madrid, including a second breakfast of churros; the rastro; Picasso's Guernica; cafe-con-leche in Plaza Mayor and finally lunch at a vegetarian restauran in La Latina, along with our pals Jon, David and Nataly.Not surprisingly, we were all exhausted when we got back. Bex was delivered to the airport by Theo (and then had to put up with a delayed flight and an overnight drive home...I can only appreciate her logistical sacrifices to make the journey...) and I collapsed into bed, feeling every second of my forty-plus years.They say it's when life begins. In that case, I'm going to need more energy. But my forties have been pretty good so far, let's hope they carry on this way.

Saturday 11 September 2010

Rosie and the Boys

She may be only 7 months old, but Rosie is definitely developing an eye for the fellas.

Previously Rosie had disdained to notice Ollie, Bianca and Stefan's little boy, but on a recent visit (for a delicious lunch and swim) she couldn't keep her hands off him. Ollie accepted this female attention with a certain louche Gallic cool that he clearly gets from his Dad. He didn't even seem to mind when Rosie decided his feet were clearly a tastier looking option than the puree Mum and Dad had brought with them.

Rosie is obviously developing a foot fetish. Oh well.

Not content with hitting on her own age group, Rosie has also taken to making eyes at older men, marital status be damned. Here she is flirting with Fermin on a recently pool and picnic trip, although according to his wife Rebecca he has this affect on most women. Naturally, I didn't leave Kate's side...

Saturday 4 September 2010

Food Fights - by Theo

Weaning has begun! Actually we began giving Rosie finger food (baby-led weaning) a while ago, back in June, but never with any kind of regularity, and during our English summer sojourn we actually purchased some baby food. However, being on the move made sticking to a routine somewhat tricky. Also the travel highchair our friends Jero and Jose kindly gave us sadly doesn't fit onto every table, meaning Rosie was often on one of our laps at meal times - hard enough to feed her without getting covered ourselves, let alone eat our own meal.However since we've returned a routine of three meals a day has been established, with the help of a high chair. Indeed, our first stop in Madrid was IKEA! It's not been easy; since finishing the baby porridge and Ella's Kitchen pouches we'd brought with us, finding stuff that a) Rosie will happily eat and b) we will happily give her has proven tricky! Most commercial baby-food we've looked at her has added sugar and/or salt - big no no - or, of course, meat. Meanwhile my first attempts at making pureed baby-food were not met with an enthusiastic welcome, so bread, fruit and green beans to be gummed to death had become a bit of a staple (we'd left Cathy and Jean's with a huge bag of fresh produce from their garden). Nevertheless, with my last two culinary efforts (Pear, peas and broccoli; Carrot, lentils, ginger and garam masala) have been wolfed down. I suspect the war is not yet won, but after defeat in the initial skirmishes victory is definitely mine!!

Sunday 29 August 2010

Keeping our cool - by Theo

Ever since we arrived back in Madrid on Thursday we've been trying to keep our cool.

Well, it's 35 degrees out there, from about 11 until 11, not a cloud in the sky and we've only got a tiny air conditioning unit in the sitting room. We've also got ceiling fans in the sitting room and bedroom, and small portable fan, but they don't bring the temperature down (in fact the small fan gives off heat!) So we've had to come up with other methods to make the interior of the flat liveable.

The most obvious is judicious use of windows, shutters, blinds and awnings. At least one advantage of Rosie waking us up at 7pm is that we can at least enjoy a few hours with the windows wide open to catch the cool early morning breezes. This is when I've been doing all the cooking for the day, before the kitchen becomes a sauna. Then the shutters and awning come down to stop the sun hitting the glass, then finally the windows close at 10.30ish as the air outside increases in temperature. Time to bring out the home made air conditioning.

We've been freezing large tupperware containers of water and placing them, open, in front of the small fan so the air chills as it blows over the melting ice. Then, following a tip from my parents' Sudan days, we stand frozen bottles of water in buckets of cold water and cover the bottles with socks. Not sure of the physics here (an inverse convection current?) but it does seem to work. Finally, generous servings of iced smoothies throughout the day have been keeping us sane. Anyone else got any tips?

Saturday 28 August 2010

lessons in communication - by Theo

Me: "Where's Rosie's mug?"
Kate: "Huh?"
Me: "her mug."
K: "what?"
Me: "her mug. that she drinks from?"
K: "what mug?"
M: "what do you mean 'what mug?'! Her mug!"
K: "what mug?"
M: "Her mug! that we bought for her!"
K: "You mean her sippy cup? it's under the pram."

Friday 27 August 2010

San Sebastian - by Theo

We'd driven past it several times, it had been enthusiastically recommended to us in English, French and Spanish, it's halfway between Madrid and Kate's Mum's, so it seemed a very sensible idea to stop off in the Basque port and seaside resort of San Sebastian on our way home.
We'd been hoping that the sea-breezes coming off the Atlantic might have helped keep the temperatures down, but it was a sweltering 34 degrees as we pulled into town just after 2pm. We were staying in Hotel Plaza Zaragoza, one street back from the Playa de la Concha and just a few blocks from the Cathedral. After I eventually found a parking with enough head room to take Deliah's 2.06metres we headed off on a little stroll, our first stop being the Cathedral where the late afternoon sun was projecting beautiful array of colours onto the walls.

We headed out, through the Area Romantica to the edge of the Port. The beach was rammed - it was high season after all and the high tide wasn't helping matters. Enterprising teenagers had pitched their towels along a jetty (ignoring the clearly marked "no bathing" signs) and were diving in. The city is based around a bay, with two massive headlands guarding the entrances, the western one topped by a Hotel, the eastern an impressively large statue of Jesus, while the island of Santa Clara sits in the mouth of the bay. As a result it's pretty sheltered and a natural harbour.
The old town is situated below the eastern headland and a brief walk around it's narrow if regular streets followed, before we returned to the beach for a swim (me) and paddle (Kate). The water was perfect - a far cry from the freezing Cornish coast! We'll be back I feel.

Tuesday 24 August 2010

Loafing in the Lot - by Theo

After the wonderful hospitality of different generations of the Kuhfelds in London and Kent we arrived at Dover docks at 7.15am braced for a short crossing and then a mammoth drive. Rosie, who has proved a better flier than her mother and better sailor than her father, is not the world's greatest car passenger so we dreading the long haul from Calais down to Ste Croix in the Lot valley region. However, some judicious timing, several breaks on route and Kate's tireless entertainment efforts kept our PFB generally pretty chilled when she wasn't asleep, so when we finally arrived Chez Cathy & Jean at 10.15pm we were merely frazzled and not on the edge of mental breakdown as we'd anticipated. The warm welcome and soup we were met with at our home from home went a long way to restoring us.As we were not the only visitors at Labouysse, Cathy & Jean's converted former tobacco drying house was at capacity. They had very kindly given us their double room, allowing us to be able to actually move around without tripping over various baby paraphernalia, while Kate's Aunt Frances was in the spare room we usually occupy, her cousin Erica was in the caravan that usually serves as Cathy's painting studio while our hosts themselves had set up a bed in the old oven room in one of the other buildings. Amazingly bathroom queues were at a minimum all week!I only met Frances briefly at our wedding and had never previously met Erica (who Kate last saw over 10 years ago), but they were excellent company, taking to Rosie immediately (and vice versa), politely allowing me to win at backgammon and keeping the franglish flowing over the lunchtime banquets Cathy provided. Trips to the local swimming lake as well as various friends of Cathy's with swimming pools were very much on the menu. Rosie was rather lukewarm about swimming, unlike the pools which were generally a bit cooler, though with much patience she was generally enticed in.Kate's sisters Anne-Marie and Claire were also in the area, staying with Kate's former step-dad Tim round the corner at Lebreil, so a trip round there for lunch was very much in order as was a delicious lunch (again) at fellow expats Mike and Brenda. On a slightly cooler day yesterday Claire and Mia walked round to spend the day chez Cathy and join us loafing around in Cathy's garden, eating her food and playing games. Frances and Erica have departed today, heading on to visit friends in Germany, and we are leaving tomorrow ourselves, thoroughly relaxed and fed-up (in a good way!), heading home to Madrid via San Sebastian.