Monday 30 December 2013

Festively-friendly men

A day out to Murcia with a stop at the market brought an array of interesting encounters. The morning started out with a pleasant stroll through Orihuela market (we've upgraded from our previous Saturday market fyi) to buy our fruit for the week. Heading for the festive oranges (satsumas / mandarins /  tangerines / clementines .... they're all the same!) and a very friendly guy warbles on in Spanish. I'm trying to high-speed interpret as Mother is dishing out insignificant questions about his oranges. Naturally he doesn't understand anything but this doesn't deter her.

Unfortunately, this young man (think 'farmers son' but more like a lost sparrow in a hay field rather than a tweed-clad Downton Abbey gentleman) takes a shine to me and asks me on a date. I explain that Mother is, in fact, my mother... and he gasps. It was a swift goodbye but his oranges were the best I've ever had and may need another batch, so I expect there'll be another awkward encounter in the near future. Will keep you updated.

As we depart from 'mandarin-man', we are engrossed in the squabble between another farmers son and a batty old woman about a cauliflower. She seems extremely particular about her vegetables. Suddenly Mother whirls me to her other side; "Honey! Stay back! *eye-points to a dishevelled elderly man heading our way* he looks awfully smelly!" Thank God for Mother, always there to keep me safe from a potent OAP.

Murcia. On a beautifully crisp Christmas Eve with hundreds of families trotting around, children in tow, we head to our friends' restaurant again. A warm welcome as usual and we have our lunch. An hour or so later as we're paying the bill, Mother's favourite waiter rushes over to our table. The waiter I may have mentioned before?  The one Mother has a giant crush on? Yes, him. He heads over, looking extraordinarily bashful, clasping a scrap of paper. To my amazement he briefly asks me to tell Mother he'd like to go for a coffee with her! (Fluent Spanish, very little English. Could be interesting). I hand Mother the scrap of paper with Joaquin's number on (if I hadn't disclosed his name before then I have now!) and she gracefully accepts. A few glances exchanged, kisses, hugs etc and we're outside in the square. This is very exciting! Since our first visit to Murcia in April 2012, Mother has had a crush on Joaquin! Finally, he's given her his number! I approach Mother on the subject.
"Hmm. Yes. I don't really want his number though."
"Pardon???"
"Hmm. I mean, I just liked him to gawp at. I don't want to marry the man!
"I hardly think a telephone number translates to a marriage proposal... even in Spain!"
"Still. I can't go out with him, he's far too young for me."
"What?! You've been wanting to go out with him since forever what are you talking about?! Just go for a coffee!"
"I don't think so. OH but maybe he has a rich father! Maybe he owns a yacht! Yes. Perhaps Joaquin Senior will be better suited to me."

Mother has returned to dreamworld.

xoxo




Panic Room

Perhaps some of you are still unaware of the regular misfortune Mother and I have of locking ourselves out. Well, it appears we were due another exhilarating experience. This afternoon, whilst attending to our laundry in the laundry room, Mother asks me to close the doors to keep the cold air from breezing into our home. Not-so-smart me decided to pull these sliding doors completely closed, engaging the lock on the other side. We are now entirely locked in this laundry room. There is no way out. Immediately I roll over laughing... as does Mother (for the first ten seconds). Eventually we both realise this isn't a movie; Liam Neeson sadly isn't going to bust the door down and rescue us. Mother is now beginning to feel fear; "We're going to die in here! This is it! This is the end! How on earth  do you think we'll get out of here?! Nobody knows we're here!" (and so on and so forth).

The tool kit is out. Mother is now in full Tomb Raider mode. Annoyingly, she is switching from 'we will get out of here pass me the hammer!' to 'WE'RE GOING TO DIE IN HERE OMG HONEY SERIOUSLY!!!!'
I put forward a relevant and helpful comment; "Actually, don't you remember speaking to security? They said that burglars can get in no matter what, if they really want to. So we'll get there eventually. We just have to figure out how. How do you think they do it?"

"IF I KNEW HOW TO BREAK IN I'D BE A BLOODY BURGLAR WOULDN'T I?!"

So, minutes (hours???) pass and we're still trying to break into our own home.

EVENTUALLY we're free (Mother saved us) and laughter resumes (ignoring the slightly damaged door). Mother then spends the next few hours going through the scenario we scarcely missed;
"You know, Darling, I had it all planned. We have a children's sleeping bag in there (didn't question why), a yoga mat, wet-weather gear. We would have been just about warm enough to last through the night in there. Ohhh... and we had VIMTO! We would have had to force ourselves to drink that vile beverage to keep our blood sugar levels up. You see, you really do have to be prepared for such occasions, don't you, Darling?"

I'd like to add here, I managed to adopt the traditional British mantra; 'KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON' ... However Mother failed miserably.