Hello dear readers!
So, my last post was
from our trip to Sitges. Guess where I am now? Aha, yes - Sitges! As many of
you already know, Mother and I have moved, rather swiftly, upstream to Sitges,
Barcelona for business and uni *balloons and party poppers* and no longer live
in the Costa Blanca. Yes, I shall miss a few things about dear C.B. (very few) but
I'd like to say here that I am very grateful for this opportunity and can't
wait to see what 2016 brings! Mother and I have each made some great friends
already and we are currently embarking on house-hunting. A struggle but we'll
get there. I shall record any shenanigans of the process and keep you updated
but for now, I'd like to tell you about the fun times prior to arriving in
Sitges.
I insisted we plan a
halfway stop for the night in Valencia, which was a blessing as the removal men
didn't leave our apartment in C.B. until around 9pm. LORD KNOWS why it took
them over 9 hours but, with Mother's persistent nagging that all her antique
mirrors be carefully wrapped in fluffy clouds and protected in a force field, I
understand how it could have dragged on a bit. Upon arrival, Mother offers the
two men tea. She offers and then delegates the job of actually making the tea
onto me.
"We have tea-tea, like PG Tips or peppermint tea.
Oh, we don't have any milk though. Well, we do have milk but it's not regular
milk. You know, the milk you would normally put in tea. So... I mean, we have a
different milk. What is it called, darling?"
"Almond
milk"
"Yes, almond milk
*makes sick face* it's an acquired taste..."
Tony is feeling brave;
"Oh, that sounds fine for me thanks love, I'll try a bit of that - live
life on the edge!"
"... are you
sure? *grimaces*" Mother tries to dissuade him
"Yeah I'll give
that a go! No sugar though love, ta"
"Right. Okay
then. Now, Michael, I think you look like you need a good mint tea. Mint tea?
Would you like peppermint tea? I tell you, it's great if you're thirsty! You
look thirsty! You ought to have a mint tea. I'll make you a mint tea. See if
you like it. You'll like it, I'm sure! Darling, show Michael the mint tea box.."
"urm... oka-
ok... yep, I better have a mint tea then, thank you..."
"Great! Jolly
good! Darling, go and make the tea!" Mother gestures towards me.
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Finally, we manage to
leave C.B. and, a couple of hours later, arrive at our hotel in Valencia. It is
now 1am, Mother and I are giggling like teenagers, attempting to wheel in six
suitcases into reception. In the dead of night, with the poor receptionist
startled by the new arrivals, Mother and I cannot control our giggles. I will
admit that we had a bottle of Malibu balancing somewhere between these cases
which may have looked a little suspicious but nonetheless the receptionist
clarifies that we were only staying for the one night.
"Of course! One
night, thank you Sergio!"
With our room key, we
try our best to be quiet as we found our room. Rather difficult actually, as
our suitcases of multiple sizes are not cooperating. I have to hook the handles
of the case onto my ankle to slide along the floor. Mother has collapsed
halfway out of the elevator and is laughing her head off. This sets me off and
we cry-laugh our way to our room. Our cases are in a sprawling mess along the
hotel hallway as we have to take them one by one (we realise, at this late
stage, that this is the best method).
Thirty minutes after
showering and settling into our room with wine (Mother made me call ahead from
the car journey to request a glass of wine to be waiting upon arrival), Mother
gasps dramatically. I choke on my mini pretzel and look at her in shock;
"WHAT?!!"
"Oh NO! Oh Gordon
Bennett!!!! You'll never
guess what's in the bloody car?! We've left the safe in there! NO! Quick!!! We have to go and get it!!!"
Mother jumps out of bed.
The safe she is
referring to contains 'important' memorabilia etc that she deemed too risky to
leave in the hands of the removal firm. So she carries it with her. Most
places.
"Come on, you
have to come with me! I'm not going down to that scary car park all alone at
2am, darling! QUICK!"
I am extremely
inconvenienced. After my hot shower and nice new sheets and pretzels I do NOT
want to wander down to a dark dirty car park at 2am in freezing January to get
a damn box.
However, I am rather
nice. I get dressed. I am ready to go, coat and trainers on. Hat on.
Mother has taken a
different approach. Mother has decided not to get dressed. Mother does not feel
it is necessary to dress for this excursion.
"What are you
doing, Mother?"
Mother is out of the
door and hobbling halfway down the hallway. She has half-shoved her bare feet
into her trainers and thrown on a poncho with fur trim. There is nothing else.
Mother is wearing nothing else. There
are some large knickers visible as the poncho swings around the corner and I
catch up with her before the elevator doors close.
"Mother, you
can't leave your hotel room with no pants on. I think it's illegal..."
"My safe! What if
someone steals it!? Everything is in there, darling!!"
"Nobody will want
to steal a box of photographs, Mother."
The elevator doors
open and Bridget Jones runs out, past the receptionist (who is staring at her
as she races outside) and continues running until she reaches the car. I catch
up with her again and see she has been reunited with the box (sorry, safe). At this point, Mother's
consciousness kicks back in and she realises what she's wearing. Or rather,
what she's not wearing.
I attempt to escort
Mother to our room through the back of the hotel, avoiding the worried
receptionist and attempting to avoid any other guests. Not quite such luck as we
snuck up the stairs. Mother, hunched over to cover her exposed self, hid behind
me as we passed a confused family of five (what are they doing at 2am?!) and safely
made it back to our room.
Luckily, there were no
mentions of a Bridget Jones / Yeti sighting overheard during breakfast the next
morning and Mother and I were able to check-out fairly smoothly.
Tony and the antiques |
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