Tag: Moving to Spain
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Learning The Ropes #RiojaVlog Uno
Wilma and I had an entire morning’s entertainment planned for you; fire-eaters, jugglers, the works, but the weather was so vile this morning, we had to abandon filming. I was hoping to give you a quick guided tour of the house and building work but the flood lights had been taken up to the roof […]
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Bloody Sunday
Mercifully, I can probably count on one hand the amount of times in my life that I’ve been so embarrassed or ashamed that I’ve wanted the ground to swallow me up, right there, right then. Being a fairly confident, laid back type of person, it takes a lot to make me blush or drop my […]
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Queremos, Podemos, Tenemos – One Year In Andalucia
It was a scorchio day in early August. Walking back down through the village after putting our rubbish in to the bin, I spotted Carlos coming out of his house. He was noticeably hot and sweaty and his vast belly, fine testament to a lifetime of greasy Andalucían fare, had burst through all the buttons […]
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Life In The Slow Lane
Temperatures have now hit the 40’s and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. On the plus side, washing dries in about 3 minutes flat – the downside is that in this sort of heat, I feel like a fat, idle slug. I have to muster all my energy and resolve to get any […]
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Un Paseo Con Colin
I’m writing this post in bed. Hidden from view underneath the duvet is my companion, Colin Snout. He’s snoring loudly and I am watching the covers as they rise and fall to the rhythm of his breathing and the odd wriggle as he dreams his doggy dreams. I can’t help but smile; Irishman would be […]
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Fatty’s First Spanish Winter
Winter caught us with our pants down. Not only were we ill prepared, we hadn’t realized just how freezing it can get here. One minute we’d been enjoying the warm October sunshine; the next there was snow and temperatures dropping to minus 7 at night. The old windows shock and rattled, rain poured through our […]
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La Matanza – Rural living in Andalucia
For days afterwards, the smell of onions permeated everything; it was in my hair, on my hands, impregnated in my clothes. My hands were cut to shreds and fingers stained dark brown from the onion peelings. Despite everything, I was glad that I was able to have been of some help in the preparation for […]
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Know Your Spanish Onions
I think I must have downed at least four sherries whilst sat in the bar with Antonia, pondering on what to do with the mysterious icons. I weaved my way back to the house, went upstairs and gathered them up from the table where I’d left them after Anna and Antonio’s visit. Fortunately Miguel was […]
Lottie Nevin - The Red House Diaries 