Singing it like the Spanish

It's not her favourite subject which is a shame really, seeing as we intend to live in Spain for the foreseeable future. A loves learning Spanish, rolling the new words around her tongue and picking up the language easily. P, like myself, has to rote learn the vocabulary, the verbs make no sense and she looks blankly when our neighbours talk to her. Poor P, I know that feeling.

But we have a found a way to make a difference. Singing, P loves to sing. We spend many, many hours in the car driving to school listening to our favourite radio station Cadena 100. I listen to the adverts and chat, the kids squeal at the uncensored English pop songs and try to sing to the Spanish ones.

We all LOVE Sofia.

We blast the nonsensical words out and make up what we can hear. Until this:

After a Sunday morning practice, over and over again, singing karaoke to this fabulous pop song...we can all sing it like the Spanish.

With P being the loudest and most Spanish of us all.

The big girl got perforated

There were the rains, and then the snow, a week of ice and two days of winds so destructive it broke our tree in two.

And then, just like that, it was A's birthday. A great big eleven year old who has taken this huge Mallorcan step all in her pre-teen stride. A smiley girl, always kind, obsessed with her pony and friends, awoke to the most hideous of days. Rain battered on the car as we drove the long journey to school - rain in Mallorca makes traffic jams, so we were late.

And then she forgot the cakes to take into her class. And because she had missed registration no one sang Feliz Cumpleanos to her. She cried. Eleven was turning out to be completely rubbish.

Valiantly, she ran out to me and grinned her wide grin after the school day was over. P looked nervous, for it had been decided that seeing eleven was very grown up - she could get her ears pierced. She had been practising with stickers on her ears for weeks, watched all the You Tube videos on how it was done and asked all her friends what it was like - preparing her for the day. Not being a great fan of pain, A had still decided to go ahead.

So off to the pharmacy we went.

The first one was shut.

The second one was open but only did piercings on Friday afternoons. The disappointment and relief was palpable in one.

We tried all of Magaluf.

After parking terribly in Palmanova I ran into the fourth chemist who said yes, she could have her orejas perforadas now. How she grinned, terrified and excited. P closed her ears and eyes. I held A's hand tightly and bang! bang! They were done. Two diamante studs of the crappiest quality where in my daughters ears and her eleventh birthday had been redeemed. Completely redeemed.

"At last I am like a Spanish girl!" she exclaimed, looking at herself in the mirror.

Yes my darling you are.

"I've never seen snow before on my birthday!"

Only in Mallorca

The rain in Spain

Oh my giddy God.

I was not ready for this. I don't think the rest of the island was either. It was biblical. First snow, then the winds and storms - and then days and days of rain. Not the pissy kind you get in the UK, the sort which dampens you constantly - no, this was like the rainy season in Asia, on a rainy day.

Spot has been highly unamused about being whizzed around on the end of a lunge for a bit of exercise. Kira, being the utter crazy kid she is, gallops around in the mud thankful for the leg stretch. I have changed clothes three times a day for a week.

It has to end soon. Google reckons Friday.

Spot practices his his 'sad donkey face' in his paddock

Er, 'scuse me!

Bienvenido a Mallorca

That, my friends, is snowy, sleety hail.

We've all gone into shock and lock down. Spot, the pony was utterly disgusted to be put outside while I mucked out. I think I will make a soup and get my sheepskin slippers on. This is not exactly what we signed up for!

Leaving - to come back

It was my first time off the island in 6 months. And it's not until you leave that you realise that you needed to leave - to appreciate and be grateful for all you have on your return.

I love England for my friends and family. For the choice in the supermarket, for the abundance of spices and wonderful diversity of people. I like England because I can understand everything being said to me and over-hear conversations on the bus with glee. I like England for its familiarity and ease, for its (mostly) acceptance and for the memories.

But I love Spain too. It's not one or the other. They are both great places for great reasons.

I love Mallorca because I can't understand everything being said to me, for its eccentricities and customs. I love the mountains which change daily and the sun which is always there. I love the hoopoes which hop about my lawn and my horses who munch their paja and garba loudly. I like the food, our neighbours and new friends, as well as the diversity of cultures in the children's school. I love the wild coastline, the bluest of seas, the olive trees and carobs. I love what we haven't yet discovered.

As common as a magpie over here

A new year

It started with snivels and snotty noses, my 2017, although I didn't want this to be the focal point of the first day of the year on the island of Mallorca.

My horse had acupuncture and some opium homeopathic treatment to chill her out, she yawned a big fat yawn or two and retired to her garba, munching away happily as though the last few days never happened. The relief was beautiful for both her and me.

We made a picnic and drove away from the sick house to the intensely beautiful Cap de Formentor. The sun was warm on our cheeks although the wind a little chilly. The jagged mountain edges, the thrilling roads, the navy blue sea dotted with turquoise calas and the pine forests with their native mountain goats made this day the perfect start to the New Year.

Only to be topped by a sighting of four dolphins, frolicking around the bay of the lighthouse, swimming in the direction of Menorca. Such freedom, peace, health and beauty  - a sign of good things to come.

Happiest of New Years everyone!

Those are dolphins, I promise you

Christmas round up

Well that was a weird one. It came and went as it always does, but this time the whole event was ruined by a horse. My horse to be specific, and I felt so very goddamn guilty about that.

On Christmas Eve she came in drenched with sweat, obviously having had a fright. She spent the next 3 days stressed up to her eyeballs, with a panicked look and a dangerous demeanour about her. I worried myself thin and as much as I tried not to -  I became stressed with her. My mind was not filled with festive joy but rather how to calm her down and wondering what on earth had happened in the first place. I tried to be present for the presents.

We got the vet eventually. And then Spot, the pony, got ill. He stopped eating, became depressed and came out in hives - possibly in sympathy or because of Kira.

The hedgehogs died.

He then got a sick bug.

I'm coming down with a cold.

And I'm not sure we can be bothered to stay up until midnight tonight. But I bought the grapes just in case...

Ruined by the equines