7 Jul, 2019 @ 12:19
3 mins read

That perfect Spanish afternoon can prove more elusive than first thought, writes Lesley Keith

reading a book
RELAXATION: It’s good if you can get it, writes Lesley Keith

I’M having one of those weeks where life seems to conspire against me.

The incredibly stressful ongoing saga of my Spanish driving license continues. 

Now Trafico say they sent it weeks ago but as I wasn’t there to collect it, it was returned.

No card has been left in my mail box, no confirmation of postage or follow up to my email address, nothing.

They don’t take phone calls or walk-in appointments and the provisional license I had from my gestoria is about to expire. 

I managed to get a new provisional one which means I can at least apply for an appointment with them and pick it up personally.

One of the worst things about this is feeling you have no control or ability to get things working.

The thought of going to yet another large uncaring government office doesn’t exactly fill me with glee but hopefully, once in front of a real person I’ll actually be able to get the illusive license.

It makes Swansea DVLA seem positively approachable and caring doesn’t it.

QUIET TIME: Spain can be idyllic if you know how

The second worst thing is that everyone else that’s doing this seems to have received theirs without problem, and don’t mind pointing this out to me with that smug bemused grin people in this situation can’t seem to help but use. 

The poor English chap at the gestoria who jumped in to ‘help’ and started telling me it was really very easy and he’d done it all last week without problem really saw a side of me that doesn’t come out very often.

I did apologise immediately but too late, the damage was done.

Sorry Sunshine, sometimes it’s best to keep it buttoned.

When I first moved here I had an impression in my mind of how it was going to be.

One predominant image was me, sitting on a shady terrace with a book, having a nap with the sound of a gentle breeze rustling through the trees.

To realise this dream of course you first need a comfortable chair that supports your head which my flat most definitely does not have.

So following a recent trip to a DIY warehouse that was having a sale I now have that very chair on my terrace.

I tend to use a Kindle to read books, it’s so much more practical when travelling and you read as much as I do but I’ve found that outside it doesn’t really work very well so I’ve been buying good old paperbacks again.

There’s always a great choice at the charity shops and I do swaps with friends so there’s always an ongoing supply.

The next problem was finding a quiet time to sit on it, not easy when there’s an ongoing building site opposite, lots of excitable dogs nearby, gregarious and vivacious Spanish neighbours and a partner who can’t entertain himself.

He’ll sit down with a cuppa and his ipad to watch fat blokes falling over on YouTube, (other sites are available), which under normal circumstances he’ll do for hours on end, but once I get in that chair it takes about 90 seconds before he’s suggesting either going somewhere or doing something.

It’s the same when there’s something I really want to watch on TV.

I always check that he’s ok with my viewing choice as he has been known to continually criticise whatever it is as he just doesn’t relate to period dramas or US cop shows, which does rather have a detrimental effect on my enjoyment. 

Failing that he’ll pick that time to discuss future life choices or tell me all about his day, week, life etc.

As a man of few words  I’m normally lucky to get half a sentence an hour out of him so I feel I must join in with this unexpected and welcomed communication.

Thank the Lord for catch up TV.

Anyway, what I’m getting at here is that as of yet I have not realised my dream of the shady snooze.

I thought I’d cracked it last week as it was a holiday and there was no building work plus my partner was playing golf. 

That was the moment one neighbour decided to trim his twenty foot high hedges and the other one mow his large lawn with a strimmer.

Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be.

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