Sunday Supplement ...

Well, the little "fur people" got me up for their breakfast at 8.30 (never could get them to understand the concept of Sunday lie-ins), but I felt utterly shattered, like I hadn't been to sleep (even though I slept all night) and just felt nauseous, achy, cold, sickly ... So I went back to bed again, naturally. Actually, I put the kids TV programs on and intended to vegetate there watching for a bit, then get up, but I just could not keep awake.

Next thing I knew was the landlady's brother-in-law banging incessantly on the door at 11.30. The landlady had obviously sent him, obviously worried about her water bill. He wanted to know if I had water running, because he'd checked the meter and said it was "spinning round". Of course, I'd been asleep, so I wasn't using any water. There was a minor hiss from the loo cistern, but no visible evidence of water running or leaking. He reckons that the new valve isn't right either ... The upshot is I now have to turn the stopcock on and off to use the toilet. The stopcock outside is turned off to the dribbling water heater too. Washing machine now doesn't have a water supply either and still won't work. 

And I'm calling the insurance company again in the morning.

Friday Flooding ...

Cats picking their way around another flood

Is becoming a regular event and I just don't know where to turn.

On Friday, I had to have a shower to go out and though the water heater worked (that, in my opinion, was a miracle: stories like this: The bane of my existence, again about a water heater saga in rented property in Spain, are not unusual), anyway, it leaked again and carried on dribbling for 24 hours.

Meanwhile, I tried to use my washing machine again and, once again, it did not immediately fill, but made noises. Not to be beat, because I really had to use it, I turned the water off and on and, lo and behold, actually got it to work. Only so it then flooded the floor, again. TWICE.

Then the landlady comes round with a 63 euro bill for water. This can't yet include the cost of all of last week's flooding and I had to refuse to pay it unless they come up with a really good reason. Living alone, I could hardly use much water if I tried and for 9 years, the amount has been 12 or 13 euros every two months.

Water torture ...

Normal weather for this part of the island

When an excess of rain falls on "plain" flat roofs here (badly made ones), it sits there and accumulates, until it can filter through to catch you unawares. It did it to me again after several days of heavy rains to give me a "free shower" with every visit to the bathroom: I sit on the "potty" to "mind my own business" and drip ... drip ... drip. Like the allegedly Chinese water torture.

Because of this, there are parts of the walls and ceilings in this house that are a horrid green / black moldy mess: other parts that are just darkened wet exposed cement. The dehumidifier, carries on working a 168 hour week, on my dime. But, if that wasn't enough water torture for me, on Thursday night, the water pressure in the household supply suddenly and dramatically increased.

Now that's all very well, because a few months ago I'd had to have the council increase the pressure again, because it was so pathetically low that the water heater refused to start up, leaving me no means of getting a shower.

Then the loo cistern began to hiss constantly under the excess pressure and, I'd known for years that the valve was "dodgy" and would break eventually, which it did on Friday morning, causing the loo to continuously flush.

The local plumber couldn't even look until Monday, so I turned the stopcock off to the toilet. Then on Friday afternoon, while I'm miles away from the bathroom, I hear a noise as the pressured water decides it will find another "path of least resistance." It had taken the (rusted) pipe bringing water to the bidet, clean off the wall. Only that didn't have a stopcock to be able to turn it off, so this high pressured jet of water was just quickly filling the house, up past my ankles.

And I didn't have a clue where the main water tap was. And nor did the landlady, when I phoned her. And none of the neighbours were around. And nobody passes this place: hell, you'd have to be lost to find it!

So, I phoned my household insurers to request an emergency plumber.

Note that one definition of an emergency is "An unforeseen occurrence or combination of circumstances which calls for immediate action or remedy; pressing necessity; exigency." Personally, I think I had one of those. But the reaction from their plumber was a sharp intake of breath followed by "Oh, no, I'm not coming up into the mountains with it getting towards nighttime ..."

And, since you do need to be lost, or mad, to find this place, he had a point.

So, from mid-afternoon Friday, all I could do was bale water out of the house as fast as I could with a broom and, until the landlady did come up at around 8 p.m. and we eventually found the main water tap (in the undergrowth, halfway down a barranco), I envisaged that I would be doing that all night until help came.

While we were scrabbling to turn off the water, the man from the supermarket arrived to deliver my grocery order. He mentioned that the water pressure here keeps going up and down and, keeps having airlocks in it. At least the landlady can't say it's my fault, or that I'm just dreaming, which is the usual "trick."

The plumbers arrived Saturday morning. They replaced the valve in the toilet cistern and attempted to replace the pipe to the bidet, but that proved too old to repair and all they could do was to cap the pipe at the wall. It's frankly not that a great loss, but this will be yet another thing that is simply never fixed.

Then, when the water was turned back on, the water heater began dripping. It had never done before. The plumbers (and I) opine that the pressure surge has screwed it up well and proper. But their "solution"? Turn the water off to it when I'm not using it, particularly at night, when the pressure is at the highest.

That is, they expect me to GO OUTSIDE to turn the water on and off at a stopcock EVERY DAMN TIME I WANT HOT WATER. And I ask you, would they do that in their own house? We all know the friggin answer to that, don't we?

In fact, this plumber was professional; cleaned up after themselves, courteous, almost sane ... compared to the usual standard of tradesmen on this island, who contrive to send people round the bend. Anyway, that too will now be left until it breaks completely, leaving me without hot water once again. When the water heater wouldn't work once before, do you know how long I was without hot water?

You'll never guess. FOUR YEARS.

Then Monday, I went to use my nearly new washing machine and ... the water was turned on to it, but the machine didn't fill and just made horrible noises.

The old one had been helped seen off by, guess what? Yes, a massive surge in pressure, caused when the council were screwing with the water supply!

And on top of all that, that's another pair of shoes totally ruined, my back is "broken" from hours of sweeping and mopping (alone) to get the house as dry as possible; I ache everywhere, I'm knackered, the house is even more damp, the dehumidifier is working overtime (which is costing a heap in electricity), never mind what hundreds of gallons of wasted, metered, water is going to cost me.

That's FIVE floods I've suffered in this house, for one reason or another and I really wonder just how much more can I take. Not much, I don't think.

Poisoned Future

Bit of a rant ... Because one of the main reasons I moved to this area of Tenerife is because it's inside a protected, Rural Park, where poisons are were "prohibited". Then a sign was put up that indicates that the area has been treated with a herbicide, Glitan to control the weeds and, I'd rather they didn't. The tourist blurb says:

"The Teno Rural Park is one of the most beautiful areas on Tenerife. This park, traditionally isolated due to its limited and difficult access, with its mountainous massif in the north-west of Tenerife is of great ecological value, both scenic and cultural: it includes many examples of traditional island architecture. Large areas of laurisilva forest still survive here, a type of rich leafy forest vegetation, and are the home of many species of animals, such as, the Osprey. It is precisely its rich birdlife that has led to its being declared a protected area for birds. ..."

The area is also only just emerging from subsistence farming, but it's becoming more and more abandoned, because young people don't want to get their hands dirty (it's said) and the rules and regulations make it nearly impossible anyway. So, with nobody working the land, weeds grow, rats multiply and people poison.

The Teno Rural Park is managed by the Cabildo (Tenerife Island Corporation), who are the same people responsible for the environment and ... for doing things like weed killing, as well as the annual rat control program. And each year, their measures seem to get more "unnatural".

Just a couple of years ago, they would they would get out-of-work laborers (and, I think, offenders who'd copped for community service) to clear the weeds at the sides of these lanes and there must be plenty of such people available. The change in methods, even if this chemical is less toxic than other herbicides and pesticides, seems less like progress and more like a regression to me. Anyway, the sign was taped onto the pipes on top of our horse trough and I understand that this "important tourist attraction" must be kept neat and weed free, but I can only hope this is in no way contaminating the water supply.

It is (or was) untreated, clean water straight from the mountain galleries. This is less than 50 yards up the lane from the bridge to the property where I live and, it means that, despite living in this beautiful rural valley where they ought to be out gallivanting around, my poor cats now have to remain locked indoors. Among other reasons, but with ever more frequent and stronger chemical treatments, the cats haven't been out in over a year, which rather defeats the object of deliberately moving to an area because it was ideal for them.

You might tell me to shut up and stop moaning, because getting told at all here is miraculous and, this is better than last year's signs, where the date of the treatment was left BLANK. This year's signs at least looked more like warning signs. Yes, looked, past tense, because the wind and rain had seen them off mostly only 3-4 days into the 10-day "danger" period.

How to stick one on your customers

UNELCO pylon damaged in Storm Delta
Mataparda / CC BY-SA

... greatly insult them and make them hate you even more. Unelco, the monopoly that purveys occasional electricity in the Canary Islands, today sent me a credit note, a list of six "incidences" during 2007 and a letter explaining that it has been decreed that customers who had suffered a certain level of interruptions during last year are to receive compensation.

Hurray, you say? 

Well, not so friggin' fast ... You don't get real money, of course. The amount, they say, is to be discounted from the next bill (so they can go on earning interest on it) and they could have earned interest on a whole lot more retained money if they hadn't wasted it on sending customers three whole A4 printed pages of chopped down trees, plus the cost of the unnecessary postage, because they could have just put this in with that next bill that they're deducting it from.

The frequent power cuts are less trouble than when electricity goes off and on, repeatedly, or returns with a surge, both of which always cause damage to appliances. The last time this happened, it fried a phone, but I've lost count of the TVs, stereos, videos, coffee machines, phones, computers ... that have "mysteriously" given up the ghost after power cuts. Who's going to pay for these? Not them, of course, because going to their offices (repeatedly) to make reclamations they disallow, always costs more than the appliance is worth. 

So, you wanna know what is the vast sum of "compensation" I'm going to receive for the five "computable incidents" (No sorry, one was a Fuerza mayor / Major Force / Act of God and therefore not payable. Although, as an atheist, I wish to claim exemption / entitlement), i.e. power cuts of between 2 hours and 4.5 hours in 2007 was? Bear in mind that I've been on the island since 1992 and this compensation was as a result of something established in 2002, however, this is the very first time we've been compensated at all (yet I've never had an electricity bill under 100 euros) and, compared to prior years, 2007 really wasn't that bad.

They're allowing me a whole 4.34 euros - about £3.30. In Total.

They're having a fucking laugh, aren't they?

Lightening does strike twice

Storm and lightening

Well almost, because a few years ago, my telephone line was hit by lightening that "fried" my then modem. [1] That lit up the night sky brighter than the light show for a Stones concert, as the blue spark travelled at speed down the wire and into the back of my computer. It was only by pure luck that I reacted, threw myself back across the room and away from it, in time. 

This time, lightening hit the electrical pylon, not 25 meters from the house in the early hours of Saturday morning, which is only inches from the phone cable that runs up the hill past it. Reckon that metal pylon attracts lightening?

It's very rare for a storm to wake me up, but this one did at 5.30 on Saturday morning, because it was so loud and, because the rolling thunder shook this house (with it's half meter thick walls). By the tiny interval between thunder claps, I knew the storm was close overhead too and just seconds after the first that woke me and a millisecond before the next boom, was a tremendous explosion as lightening hit something I knew had to be very close by.

Power went off in this house at that instant, but when I looked outside, it was still on in the valley below. Nevertheless, there wasn't much I could do at 5.30 a.m., so I went back to bed. At 8.30 a.m. the power was still off and was also off in the entire valley (and various other areas apparently.)

Went outside to inspect, then phoned the electricity company and explained what I had seen and heard: that lightening must have hit the pylon.

Around 12.30 I rang UNELCO again, as after 7 hours, we were still without power and neither had I seen any technicians anywhere in the area.

Shortly afterwards, two blokes in a van turned up (coincidentally), took one look at it and announced casually that lightening had hit the pylon.

No, really? Don't you just love experts?

But these bright sparks weren't the repair guys. Now we had to wait for someone else to repair whatever had been hit and, of course, there were a lot of repairs needed after the storm and, no, they couldn't give me any idea at all how long it would be before they would turn up, let alone how long it would take to repair ... I decided I'd had enough then. This house only has small windows facing north, so even in daylight, it's impossible to see indoors without artificial lighting. Therefore there was absolutely nothing whatsoever I could do here; I was cold, damp and couldn't even make a decent cup of coffee.

When I went to catch the 2 o'clock bus the power was still off anyway.

It was a bad storm, but it wasn't that bad, compared to some we've had in recent years. To be left without power for 9+ hours, after something really only a bit worse than what is becoming "routine bad weather", is unacceptable.

As an expat immigrant, sure I accept sacrifices, but I didn't move to the "third world". And on an island that relies on tourism this is downright 'effin criminal.

There's absolutely no doubt in my mind that this would not - could not - happen if cables were put under ground. And there wouldn't be a lot of these repairs needed and time and money wasted after every storm. Yet these ugly overhead cable spaghettis are still being installed, even in tourist areas. 

Speaking to a neighbour, who has lived and worked in Germany, later at the bus station in Buenavista (he was also "escaping" to Puerto de la Cruz to look at the carnaval parade for something to do and to get warm), he compared the situations and opines too that the antiquated systems here are to blame.

What concerns us, is we will be underground before the cables are! (He was.)

[1] If you think the electricity company's response is slow, it took more than 4 years before Telefonica would finally even come out to look at the phone cable that was damaged and suffering badly from crackling noise on the line (they blamed everything else; my phone, my computer, cheap calls with a competitor, none true), despite me telling them that I had seen it hit by lightening.

Just another day in paradise ...

It's NOTHING like this!

There are many people on this planet with a lot more to complain about than I have, but a typical day here lately has not exactly been what I would call productive. There's the "Christmas was basically a write-off" situation on top of this - that I hardly even want to think about, let alone describe - but since various nice people have emailed, asking where I am, here's a comprehensive reply for them and anyone else who may have silently wondered ...

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin:

After a screaming cat gets me up, usually between 8:00 and 8:30, I fire up the computer on my way through the office on the way to the bathroom. By the time I have attended to my ablutions, cleaned up the "ablutions" left by the furry tribe overnight, fed the cats their breakfast, done other necessary chores, put the coffee machine on, taken the dog up the hill for her ablutions ...

(Lately, I've had scary chest pains and additional health issues to deal with. This is quite apart from the fact that for more than I decade, I've woken up daily, in pain and feeling like I haven't slept. By the time I've carried out those few essential chores, I'm knackered. But that's a whole other story.)

... the computer might have successfully finished booting. Don't hold your breath over it though. Anyway, after one or two tries, if the computer does agree to arrancar (get its arse into gear), one can almost guarantee that it will connect to the internet, but a perfectly ordinary web page page might take over 600 seconds to load. This is a real example from today and this is DSL.

Often, the slowness of the connection is because it's been "taken over" by some update, but I thought the whole idea of broadband was so you could squeeze more than one task down the wires at a time. Obviously, that's too much to ask. I can't really complain about the speed (sarcasm): after all the technicians did warn me that I'd only get about half of the usual 1GB speed since it has to come "up hill." (OK, a long way from the exchange, but that is how they said it!)

In addition to that, virtually daily, a perfectly normal software program - that I've been using for years and that has worked perfectly - will suddenly be "Not responding". Then the computer will slow down to slower than molasses in January, in an Ice Age. The "offending program" will then crash, losing whatever it was that I was working on. I then close down and re-boot the computer (while I take the dog up the road for another walk to avoid the interminable wait.)

Even so, this previously perfectly good software will still refuse to load at all, even when I find some "back door" to delete the allegedly corrupt file it was last working on and, even after updating the software to the latest version.

So, I completely remove the program. Download a clean version. Reinstall it, only to find that the very feature that I have been using the program for, for years, is "no longer supported" in the new version. Either I have to find a new program, or I have to fiddle and poke to use what's left of it in a semi-manual fashion. And, because every time I install a completely new program, the entire computer slows down even more (if you can imagine it going any 'effin slower) or crashes to the "blue screen of death", you can bet yer life that manual fiddling is the only viable option (or throwing the whole thing from a great height.)

Every time these strange events happen, just to be on the safe side, I run registry and crap cleaning tools, as well as defrag and various diagnostics to attempt to eek a little speed and reliability out of the machine. You never know if a gremlin has crept in, so I run adware, spyware and virus checks. The virus check alone takes 3 hours, but because the computer is running so slow and labored, it isn't possible to do anything else on it while those checks are running.

Doing all that, of course, means that I lose cookies and logins, etc., that I then have to have sent to me or look up. These, I am now collecting in an exercise book (ya know, one of those funny old things made of paper chopped down trees), 'coz I can't access the "convenient" digital records on the computer.

By the end of the given day - and the above example really happened yesterday - I fall into bed, realizing that I haven't been out, except for the dog's ablutions, haven't cooked anything, haven't washed dishes - or even myself - again (it's seldom possible to get hot water in this "uninhabitable" house in winter: another saga to tell) and, even though I might have spent a good amount of time working on a design, a project, a blog post, an email or whatever it got lost.

Hey, I might "get lucky" and get one or two things done before crashing.

This is really worse than doing nothing, because it gives the impression that I am around. Anyone seeing some change / post / whatever might then wonder why I haven't also answered their email. Actually, I might have tried. My response might be in a pile of corrupted electrons here someplace. 

It all depends if I bother to start the computer at all, because there have been many days recently that I simply haven't wanted to face the stress of it all!

The computer situation has been getting steadily worse since one day last summer, when a Microsoft automatic update corrupted the whole caboodle (not an unusual event, I understand). Though I made it sorta work, there's a lot of stuff I simply can't access: I've searched everywhere, but the data from Outlook Express (yeah, I know, but some of it dates back to pre-history) just isn't in any of the places where it should be. And, I haven't been able to open Thunderbird at all yet, where I had, fortunately, imported a lot of that data, before the crash ...

Apart from the obvious frustrations here, is it necessary for me to underline that without a computer I have virtually no income (beyond a £250 "pension")? The last time I was "let go" from a job, because I'm clearly not fit enough to work, was 11 years ago. So, while none of this is a new problem, there have been various new complications added lately and, it's no longer possible or desirable to keep this as secret as I had done before (for numerous reasons.)

And obviously, I can't work or live like this for much longer, but due to these circumstances and my health, even fixing the computer problem is way beyond my mental capacities and, getting help is certainly beyond my budget.

In addition, I've given up smoking: my favorite vice. This should be good news, but has actually increased the health challenges I've had to deal with.

And I've also been attempting to simplify and rationalize; deep-sixing a few blogs and sites and, refocusing others, but it's proving impossible to actually finish this process too. And solving the entire bag of problems will almost certainly mean moving (that is, if a miracle occurs, otherwise, I could become a "bag lady"), so meanwhile I'm also in the process of dealing with that and tossing most of my material possessions in the process. The latter doesn't bother me. Having to leave my dog and at least some of my cats does though. Actually, this situation is a lot more serious and difficult than I'm prepared to paint it as.

We wuz refugees

The scent of barbecued pine isn't as nice as you expect when it's related to the biggest fire in Tenerife's recent history that affected an area equivalent to 13,882 soccer pitches (over 28,000 of the American type).

Nothing has calmed down yet since getting home. Yesterday and this morning we were without electricity for 14 hours, internet connections have been erratic and, I'm constantly in demand to give local information, or do translations.

A man had come banging at the door at 5 am last Tuesday, to tell us that we had to leave because there was a big fire in the mountains and we were being evacuated. There was no way of knowing what, if anything, of our possessions would remain when we got back and it was only through luck, because the wind changed, that the fire didn't come in the direction of our house, but it had become dangerous to remain here from the risk of smoke inhalation. What I chose to take was one change of clothes, a backup of my computer (I hadn't actually done this successfully, but I THOUGHT I had), myself, four cats, a dog and all my important documents, including insurance policies.

The sky was vivid red with flames, the smoke was getting thick and my dog, Holly, wouldn't even go up the road for a walk. She must have known it was dangerous out there. The people next door just let their dog free and left, but I refused to leave until I knew that we would all be OK. I got transport organized and took us all (four cats and the dog) off to a 5 star hotel - er, for a night at that unmentionable place: THE VET. As you can see, it's a very nice place for anyone to stay, but the cats thought they must have done something wrong.

The over 40C heatwave killed 55,000 animals (50,000 hens and chickens and 5,000 bunnies) even before the fire. Nobody knows how many dogs and cats, as well as sheep, goats and wild animals were killed by the fire. People in nearby valleys have lost their homes and everything they owned. We were very fortunate.

Allergies Cats Can Have

Bettty under the vines

When people think of cat allergies they usually think of people being allergic to the cat dander and the mild to severe reactions a person can have. It is important to realize that just as people have allergies cats can have allergies too.

Figuring out what your cat is allergic too is no easy task, but process of elimination and observation help. One of mine had a skin rash so bad (he would develop scabs on his ears and neck and the fur would disappear from these areas and his underarms and tummy would erupt in red blotches like hives or heat rash) that he had to be given cortisone injections.

But knowing that those are undesirable, I wanted to get to the bottom of the problem. Food is one major culprit and my dog may be allergic to certain things: she gets diarrhoea from multi-colored foods that have colorants in.

We discounted food as the problem in the cat. We eliminated any household products, because the problem improved if the cat was kept indoors.

At first the vet thought it was reaction to flea infestation, but we ruled that out too. Once everything else was eliminated, we knew that it must have been an allergy to a plant of some sort, but I live in the countryside, in a fertile valley, that has hundreds, if not millions of plants, both wild and cultivated.

Where the heck do you start?

The vet said that we could do patch tests to find out what he reacted too, but that this would be both exhaustive as well as prohibitively expensive, so I spent years watching the seasons and the rash come and go (treating it naturally with aloe and olive oil and simply keeping the cat in for spells to let it calm), before I finally cracked it when the rash totally disappeared and healed within a week of the grapes being harvested from the vines.

Now I can see why: the cats used to spend a lot of time sleeping in the shade under the vines in the summer, which is hard to avoid when there are vines - enough to produce 200 liters of wine - right here in our backyard.

It appears that the acid from the fruit was literally burning them. Mico is obviously highly allergic as he has the biggest adverse reaction; Betty, who also comes from another part of the island, is also slightly affected.

The two cats who were born right here in the valley show no symptoms: presumably come from stock that has developed immunity.

Now the only recourse is to keep the cat away from the substance causing the allergy. In our case, I have to keep them in from when the grapes first form in June/July through until early October when they're harvested. In old man Mico's case, this presents no difficulty.

Betty is another story: she yowls at the door and tries to escape constantly.

How do you tell a cat that something is for their own good?

Falls and crashes ...

Two caídas (falls): You may laugh (now) at the first of these, which involved an unidentified wet patch on the bathroom floor, probably leaked in via the porous roof, the result of which, I ended up, legs in the air, one either side of the bidet. Actually, I did hurt myself: I bruised my elbow on something and my right arm ended up inside the bath, so the rim of the bath came up under my armpit. That caused great pain in my shoulder. Falling on my bum reactivated an old "war wound" from when I slipped down the slope outside the house in the rain six years ago and hurt my hip. My back aches ... In fact, I just ache everywhere, even in parts I didn't know I had, but for the first few days, all I could stand to do was lie flat.

Just when I could manage a bit more time at the computer, my internet connection decided to suffer a caída (also the word used in Spanish to mean "crash" in this context.) One never expects much from Spain's former nationalized phone company, Telefonica, but their level of "help" for DSL customers, it has to be said, reaches an all-time low. I'd go elsewhere, but it took me 6 or 7 years to get them to give me broadband here and, there is no alternative at all in this rural area yet. So, after running all the diagnostics, it tells me that the broadband isn't working right now. Well, that was bloody helpful, wasn't it? That did infer that my setup was OK and the problem was therefore at the other end. Nothing new there. The DSL gadget at our local exchange suffered a total caída a while back and we were offline while they had to get that fixed. It could have happened again.

You would think that the natural thing to do would be to call the "help" line and, that is what I did. As soon as I got through, I was told, in no uncertain terms, like I was a naughty child or a piece of shit, that I had to completely unplug everything and basically do the technicians' job before they would even talk to me. They wouldn't check the situation at the local exchange first, to see if it might have been them and, that might have saved me the bother. Crawling about on the floor, twisting round the back of the computer, at my age and in my state of health was no picnic. And the first two goes just made the situation worse.

Many swear words later, I decided just to leave it. Later, third time lucky - probably by then, whatever it was at their end that, I suspect, had been broken, had been fixed - fortunately, because I really didn't want to have to talk to those nasty rude people again. But it really shouldn't have to be like this, especially when it costs me around $100 a month for this "pleasure".

Tip o' the Day: The Solar Dryer - Free

"Some call it a solar dryer. Our moms call it the clothesline. Nature's way of drying clothes, and nobody seems to do it anymore. Some say it brings down property values. Others say that only those that "stay-at-home" can do it. We say, give it a shot."

Solar drier, indeed. Like we need a new name for it. We should do this. I'd love to, but oh, if only it were that simple: Renting means that I cannot make holes in walls to put up an old-fashioned washing line, wherever I like.

Strong winds - I mean gale-force - buckled a whirly washing line within minutes of digging a hole into the incredibly hard, volcanic soil, filling it with cement and getting the thing fixed up. Well, if the wind can do this to trees in this valley, it's hardly a surprise.

Frequent rain and constant low-lying cloud and mist mean that several months can pass when nothing will dry outside here. This rain and fog (it's really low cloud) used to be confined to the winter months, but in recent years, this has even occurred throughout the summer and now, in spring, it has become erratically changeable so that one day can be dry and sunny, the next misty or the morning can be warm, then cloud descends - by surprise - in the afternoon. Yes, I know this is constantly warm Tenerife - Island of the Eternal Spring - but this is a fertile valley in the north, where "horizontal rain", brought by the trade winds, condenses onto the mountains. That's how we get our year round greenery and Spring flowers. 

And the house is unheated and so damp that you cannot dry clothes indoors. If you try to bring even mildly damp clothes inside, even just overnight, they get that horrible moldy damp smell that you can never wash out again and that requires you to simply throw the items away. You should smell the perfectly dry stuff that I brought here when I moved in. The move was made on an incredibly hot day, direct from the desert south of the island. All I did was put things in the wardrobe: you know, where you expect to put clothes. Thousands of pounds worth of quality clothes; classics, designer suits, leather and suede items, boots and shoes, all went green, moldy and were ruined.

Anyway, it means that to dry a towel, for instance, I have to be able to absolutely guarantee at least two full, consecutive days of dry sunny weather, before I dare to do the laundry, if I wanted to hang it outside. Well, you can't guarantee the weather, so what options did I have? None. I had to buy a tumble drier.

But, having been forced into this, there are other considerations: One, having a dog and four cats, is that the drier sucks all their hair off of clothes, bed linen, etc. Pharmaceutical companies would get richer and use more energy to treat my allergies without the drier - not to mention that it is healthier for me.

The electrical supply in this house is so weak that I can't run any other appliances at the same time or it all "trips" off, so I'm not using extra and would hardly call this a "convenience". Running the drier is costing less and must be using less resources than constantly replacing clothes.

Another benefit is that I haven't used an iron in over decade. That must have saved energy (mine and electrical), so it's "swings and roundabouts."

Now, if only I could run the drier off solar energy ...

Friday the thirteenth, part deux

Friday the 13ths aren't supposed to be a problem in Spain. Here it's when the 13th falls on a Tuesday that you need to worry. (Likewise, look out for jokes on the Day of the Innocent Saints, December 28th, not April the 1st.) And all of my cats (and the dog) were born and bred on Spanish territory, sooo why do I get the impression that they were having a late April Fool / Friday the 13th joke on me yesterday?

The day had started with Balu and Kitty being reluctant to being photographed for their 6th birthday and, degenerated rapidly from there. Normally they just get on with the serious business of sleeping and let me work. Most of the time you wouldn't even notice that there are multiple cats in the house. 

Today, one after another, or in pairs, the cats wanted to spend time on my lap (Betty insisted on this and when Betty insists, you obey, because she bites and scratches and anyway, if you put her down, she just bounces back up again), on the desk, on the printer (that I've given up on being able to use and turned into a cat bed anyway), on my mouse arm, playing "musical chairs" with the basket on the dining table - first the two boys, Mico and Balu, then Kitty and Balu huddled in it, then ... Finally, the fluffy feline on his own curled up tightly in a ball, paw over nose and it looked like we'd get some peace. It didn't last long.

I'd also done a little spring cleaning and had stuff drying in the spare room that I wanted that fur persons kept away from. You're right, what I wanted and what I got were two entirely different things. Whatever you want kept away from cats is the very thing they become absolutely determined to get into. 

It's convenient here to understand how traditional Canarian cottages are built. They were mostly built of just two rooms, one of those previously being the kitchen / dining / living room and the other being the entire family's bedroom. (Plumbing and bathroom facilities, such as they were, were added later, outside.)

Lots of these typical thick walled cottages still exist, though the uses of the rooms have changed, they've had a coat of plaster and had iggldy-piggledy extensions added over the years, but one feature that remains - mostly out of the interests of economy - is that the doorway between the original two rooms does not have a door fitted in it. Despite the cosmetic changes, this type of dwelling is terminally damp, virtually unfit for human habitation, but "purrfect" for fools on a budget who want to rent an ideal location to keep a family of cats.

In the interests of warmth and privacy and, because there are other doors in and out of these rooms now, I have the gap closed with a wardrobe across it.

Ha, but, of course, the flying feline makes light work of jumping up onto the top of the wardrobe, squeezing his fat ass through the small gap at the top where the wardrobe is not quite as high as the doorway, shimmying right down the back of the wardrobe and into the spare room - right where you don't want him and that he now cant get out of because the other door is closed. So then I put some cardboard fruit boxes on top of the wardrobe to close the remaining gap. He sat on the bedside table for a few moments, looking up and thinking. Then he just jumped (flew) up onto the wardrobe, placed a paw behind the "offending" box, hooked it out of the way, shimmied through the gap and back down again. I added more obstacles. He surmounted them. He'd go round, I'd fetch him out.

Rinse and repeat. Incessantly.

Balu is bright, he's incredibly determined and he's an absolute menace. (Of course, he's also handsome and I love him to bits and he knows this!)

Meanwhile, I'd put a chair in front of the wardrobe so I could get up there to put these obstacles in Balu's way. Kitty, trying to see if she could use this chair as the quick way to the top, stands up on her hind legs and pushes the bedroom door closed. Just as the door starts swinging, she hops down and dashes through the gap in the nick of time. Thinks it's a game, does she?

The bed in the spare room is on legs, so Balu ran to hide under there. So I go in with the broom to sweep him out. He runs out and in the time it takes me to cross the hall (scant seconds), he's gotten into the basket, laid down and is lounging in there looking the picture of perfect innocence (almost).

What can you do? I was absolutely beside myself with laughter.

Being sick is harder when you live alone

For several days recently, I've only been able to stay awake for a couple of hours at a time - I suppose this is at least a change from the more usual insomnia and disrupted sleep - which has brought home one of the major disadvantages of living alone: nobody to take care of you when you're ill.

The upside of this, of course, is nobody could chastise me either for wasting those precious hours lazing around and nor can they see that nothing here has been washed in days; not pots, not floors, not even me!

Anyway, I do feel a little better this afternoon, but it has highlighted, for me, that I could have done with seeing a doctor, or even going to the pharmacy, but since both are an almost half-day's trip, the fact was that I wasn't well enough to consider making it, but, neither was it the sort of medical emergency that warranted calling an ambulance, for instance. This is a conundrum, I think that many of us living alone are likely to find ourselves in from time to time.

My tendency to bulk shop paid off, since I was not at risk of running out of basics, although, most days, it has almost been too much effort to make a cup of tea, let alone cook food. In my extreme rural location, I don't have neighbours to call on (and certainly none who would notice me by my absence) and, there is clearly more that I need to do to be prepared for such emergencies again.

English as a second language

OK, I'll admit that like most "parents" (whether the "kids" have hair, fur or otherwise), I'm biased about my doggie's beauty and brains. Even so, I am still surprised by her abilities now and again and, especially her understanding of English.

This may have been cheeky on my part, but having an "English speaking" dog (OK, she speaks dog), in Spain, I felt, was a means to retain sole control and, would be an additional guard dog deterrent feature: other people might feel more uneasy when they don't understand a bloody word I'm saying to her. It also helps prevent them discovering that about the worst they would get from her is severe licking and a few whacks from a wagging tail! No this wouldn't work in tourist areas, but up here it does.

We do use "sit" for "sit", which most folk will recognize, but the few other commands we have attempted to learn, mostly, use non-standard English words too for additional effect. In reality, this was her idea, because she simply refused to have anything to do with the usual words, but I eventually cottoned on to the plan. Truthfully, most of what she understands, she's learned herself through osmosis. The uncanny bitch even knows her left from her right and the respective words, which not a few humans have considerable trouble over.

Anyway, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, we have bread delivered daily. This is great, but a whole loaf (really only a large roll) is actually too much for me. As I consider the pointed ends to serve a similar purpose as the handles on a Cornish pasty - i.e. they're there to keep your fingers clean, not to eat, what I do is to cut slices from the middle of the bread and the knob ends become "treats" for the dog. No, it's not just a case of using her as a K9 waste disposal unit - though, mostly, she is - bread really is pretty much her favorite treat.

We have technically termed these left over pieces, "dog ends."

So, this morning, I'd placed one of these "dog ends" on the kitchen table, but not given it to Holly. It was in reach and, most dogs are very good at stealing food. Nope, she hadn't been given it, so she didn't touch it. She certainly knew it was hers, guarded it and did have a few sharp words with a couple of cats who got too close to it, but that's all. I was making coffee at the time and could see the child-like excitement growing in her, so without looking round nor indicating at anything, I just said to her, "Is there something you want? Show me!" 

With that, she stands up and places her two front paws on the edge of the table, no more than 3 or 4 inches from the bread and nodded her nose towards it, before looking up at me with those huge, brown pleading eyes.

Obedience is not something I've ever forced on her, since a) I'm too much of a pushover and b) she has such a wonderful spirit that I didn't want to break (she's so smart and independent, I don't think I'd be successful anyway). But, as with many non-native English speakers, I'm coming to the conclusion that her comprehension of the language is close to surpassing mine!

Caution: Mystery Meat in Garden

Pork chop remains thrown onto our garden

What kind of being, because it sure isn't human, throws a pork chop bone - a little underdone, if you ask me - fresh from today's lunch, into someone else's garden? Bearing in mind that I live in the middle of nowhere and that nobody is going to drive half a mile to throw away a bone, then it has to have come from one of our group of only three houses here. One neighbour, who only comes on alternate weekends - including this - barbecues, just yards from where this was found.

My dog found this as we were going out to go for a walk: Ms Supersniffer went straight into the overgrown weeds where it had been thrown and had got it in a trice. Fortunately, a very sharp "Drop it!" command ensured that she did.

Besides being pork, which dogs shouldn't have and, apart from the fact that it's dirty and gross and would also have attracted all the other wild dogs, cats, rats and goodness knows what to our house if it hadn't been found, one has to be cautious of other non-kosher ingredients, because there are always accounts of people putting down poisoned meat to kill other people's animals here.

There honestly doesn't have to be a reason.

And the other neighbour (both neighbours are brothers) had been out spraying chemicals this morning. It would be just far too coincidental. Whilst I am not saying it was and I'm not about to have it analysed, I'm just saying it would not be unheard of, so I'm not about to take chances. It's also just bloody lucky that the cats have not been out for quite some time and are unlikely to do so, so they couldn't have found it first, when I wasn't around to act in time.

Why have the poor cats all been imprisoned again? Apart from bad weather and a list of other reasons, after losing Khan to kidney failure in November, his brother, Balu started pissing blood last weekend. Sister, Kitty just didn't seem her normal self, then Betty started throwing up. So, last Monday, I took the whole family to the vet, plus Mico and the dog. At this point I was fraught and not just from the constant "choral singing" on the long journey either.

One must not have favorites when one has a "numerous family", but the fact is that I found Balu, abandoned, when he was only 4 1/2 inches long, brought him up on the bottle and, unlike his siblings, constantly carried him around inside my clothing when he was "the baby who would not be put down." 

Brilliant vet mind you. Balu lay in my arms without being held down, while she shoved a catheter up his you-know-what to make sure there was no blockage and to "extract the urine", so to speak. He only flinched slightly, once.

Kitty walked out of the carrier, allowed herself to be prodded and poked, without complaint and, walked back in again.

Mico was also entirely unperturbed by the experience.

Holly is a damn traitor. She kissed the vet! Otherwise, she was a total menace, because she barked and lunged at all the other doggies in the surgery. Partly because she has no clue what a dog is and partly, because, obviously, she was protecting her "children", the cats.

And Betty did her usual two circuits of the surgery like a whirling dervish, before hiding in a cubby hole in the desk, from where I had to extract her - hissing, spitting and scratching - from between the computer cables.

Oh well, at least she didn't climb a wall this time. 

Then the nice lady vet, called Ana, hugged and talked to her. Actually, I think she may have hypnotized her, because Betty was the model of good behavior after that. By the end of the day though, I was wishing I could hop on the vet's table too, probably to be put out of my misery.

The upshot is that Balu had a very nasty urinary infection, but the results of the analysis did not indicate any other, more serious, problems. Phew!

Betty had wind (gas). However, during the rattling off of the long shopping list of animals, their histories and various symptoms, the vet did query if there was any possibility that they might have been coming into contact with poisons.

Funny she should ask ...

The council is also undertaking a large "desratización" (de-ratting) campaign here at the moment. They'd been round door-to-door and held meetings about it just before Christmas, but said that they were putting the rat poison into boxes and tubes to avoid risks to domestic animals. Locals, of course, never bother to tell me when they spray with weed killers and such. That is how I came to spend one Christmas Day in that same veterinary hospital with Betty, seven years ago and the next three days and nights nursing a cold cat that didn't move, jabbing her with Vitamin K. And if all that fails, they just throw mystery meat!

Sunday Afternoon Stroll

Yesterday, I needed a bit of shopping from the local store and on the way home, I stopped in a restaurant in the valley for a coffee. One of the local smallholders, whom I often see around here, tending his fields and getting water from the tap at the horse trough, was in the restaurant, talking to a woman I didn't know. One piece of conversation led to another and the man was telling this lady that I have a dog and some cats ... And that the cats follow us everywhere like ducklings.

Infamy as a crazy cat woman! Who cares?

Here's the proof ...

It really was a Sunday afternoon when all the ducklings decided to follow the dog and I out for a stroll. Here's four of them as we set off up the hill from the house. Khan leading, his sister Kitty half hidden behind him, Balu, then Betty bringing up the rear. Number five, Mico, can't be far behind.

Single file everyone! Still Khan, Kitty then Balu, keeping more or less in line as we make our way across the valley. Mico and Betty had stopped to sniff a bush just the other side of the old ruined house.

Mico, who, it must be said, is the most laid back cat I ever met, finally catches up just in time to meet himself - well the others - coming back!

After a long walk, Khan stops off at the horse trough for a drink.

While Betty detours to walk along the back of the communal laundry facilities.

On the way back home and when one stops, they all stop for a well-earned sit down. Balu out front (no surprise: he always wants to be first to the food dish), Kitty, then Khan and, Mico stops to sniff the flowers again.

Oh, and Holly the Hound, of course.

The cats often follow us whether it's Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday or Saturday too and, no I didn't train them to do it. They just seem to think that this is what you do when your 'adopted mum' is a dog, I suppose!

Dangerous People

There Is Only One Dangerous Breed Humans

As several sources have reported today, a woman was killed in Tenerife on Wednesday night, when her son’s American Staffordshire Terrier attacked her (I wasn't aware that Staffordshire had been moved to America) and another report had called it a pit-bull. The son was arrested on charges of reckless homicide, because he had not registered the animal as potentially dangerous. (Though I fail to see how registration would stop the animal doing what it did in it's home.) I'm sure the story has also been doing the rounds of the press and the TV and, no doubt, with all the usual sensationalism about "dangerous breeds".

In 14 years on this island, I have yet to see anyone here, other than English or German expats or those with Canarian hunting dogs (then only when hunting), who ever take their dogs out for exercise. Most dogs are kept in small spaces, most often on short chains, eating sleeping and shitting in the same 4 foot radius, 24/7. Then the owners wonder why these animals go crazy! Duh! But, thanks to ignorance and helped by the media, people carry on thinking that there are dangerous dogs, where, in truth, there are only dangerous owners.

As I was out walking my dog this afternoon - no way is she dangerous and she was under control, on a lead which I pulled in close to me as I had to pass what I can only call a pair of "mal educados" (Rednecks). As I approached, they began talking loudly in disapproving tones, at the air in general, but with clear inference in my direction, about how someone was killed "dangerous dog". Honestly, they didn't have the balls to address me directly, but they had to get their 2 cents in.

Holly merely sniffed in the direction of the guy's wheelbarrow, while passing, not even within arm's reach of him, but he immediately made melodramatic hand waving actions to shoo her off. The stupid thing is, of course, that if he did that to an uncontrolled and untrained dog, then he would get their hand bitten. And it would be his own fault, not the dog's, but, of course, they just can't see it.

Practical Joke Day

I'm not quite sure when today was designated as Practical Joke Day - nor why, because it is neither April 1st, nor December 28th - by the younger members of my family (that is the ones with fur and hair on), but they seem to be making a jolly fine job of it so far and, it's nearly impossible to get mad with them.

At some time during the night, Mico, who likes to sleep curled round my head, had obviously been bored and had indulged in one of his favorite hobbies - hairdressing. This time, he really went to town, with lots of back-combing. To the point that, today, I look like a cross between the Wicked Witch of the West (which, I suppose, is not wholly inappropriate) and a bloody scarecrow. I'll get round to teasing out the dreadlocks he's given me, or not, later.

Mico decided he wasn't going to wait until the alarm went off for me to get up to get his breakfast today either, so when all 9 lbs. of him jumping all over me failed to get him the appropriate result, he jumped on the bedside table instead. When I opened my eyes, he was still sitting there, trying to look innocent.

But, not only had he managed to hit the right button on the remote to switch on the TV, he'd also managed to select Channel 2 (which is not the last channel I had been watching), which shows kiddies "dibujos animados" (cartoons to you) in the mornings. What was on? Rugrats, taking care of a CAT!

Later on, when I took Holly for a run up in the fields, she decided she was going to go off on one of her rambles. She does this from time to time; just disappears into the vast yonder undergrowth and comes back when she feels like it. (Obedience is an optional upgrade that I have never been able to afford.)

Actually, she does come, but not when you simply call her or whistle her (unlike the cats, who do). What I have to do is call out "Bye Holly" and start walking towards home. Usually, she's so afraid of missing something or of being "abandoned", that she catches me up, less than half way down the hill. Not today. She caught me up and overtook me, as I had got back to the bridge at the end of the driveway. I could hear her coming; thundering down the hill at the speed of an express train. She took the curve on two paws. By the time I got back up to the house, she was standing INSIDE the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. If she had been able to say "Beat you!", she damn well would have done.

So I give her a reward, for coming home, of course. Her favorite: a hunk of yesterday's stale bread. She took it, but didn't eat it, because, while we were out, one of the cats had brought a rabbit in (dead) and laid it out in the spare room. Holly wouldn't eat her bread, because she had to "guard" the rabbit. Don't ask me, she just guards them and doesn't touch them, dead or alive. It's the first they'd brought indoors for weeks. Normally, at least some of the cats come with us when I take Holly for walks, but none of them had this morning. 

I should have guessed, they were up to no good.

Once in a century

At the celebrations of the 300th Anniversary of the volcanic eruption in Garachico

Whilst it's true that I don't tend to get out much, I'm not trying to infer it is that infrequent, however, very few days are quite like the one I had on Friday. In the morning, I went down to Buenavista del Norte to do my once monthly round of business, but it is getting ever more difficult to distinguish a trip to the bank and some shopping from the old custom of paying visits. 

On the way down, I had called in to see, Ana, my next door neighbour - I've seen her twice to chat otherwise since the first of the year - because she now works full time, running the family bar. She was standing outside the bar in La Cuesta as I approached and I wanted to ask a favour anyway.

This makes it awkward when she insists on giving me coffee on the house, just because I have bothered to go and see her. "Er, not entirely without interest", I assured her as I asked if she would rent me her husband again to spray whatever it is (they aren't saying and I ain't asking), the only thing known to man and science that will get rid of the plagues of black centipedes that crawl all over the floors, walls and other surfaces. Half an hour or more, coffee, chats with Ana, with her daughter and meeting her sister for the first time, I made my way into town.

There I dropped off some British stamps for Manolo in the bank. 

A visit to the newsagent next is always a lengthy one to get caught up on news - not the sort that is printed in the press - and my friend there picked out very nice cards for me for my friend whose baby arrived on May 1st.

Called into the supermarket to get baked beans (it's the only place locally that sells "foreign food") and cat food. I was accosted with "We have Piccalilli and Branston Pickle". Well, you can't refuse, can you? And from there ensued an explanation of how Branston Pickle is nice with a bit of cheese. 

From there to the post office to get stamps for the cards. My friend Crissy works there. She used to do the delivery round in my area for several years, during which we had got to know each other quite well. "Gosh, is it a month since I last saw you?", she exclaimed and there started a long chat with her, the other man who works in the post office and any other customers who came in, one of whom was a lady selling lottery tickets for the charity lottery, ONCE. She had one ticket ending with 57 - the year of my birth - so I bought one of those. 

When I eventually got out of the post office, I went to the square to have a coffee at the kiosk, then  across to the corner to La Venta also the offices of El Cardón and introduced myself to Janiera, who I had spoken to on the phone. Another fifteen minutes, chatting, collecting information and leaflets.

Time was flying away from me, is it any wonder? But, I needed to get back up the village, pay my debts to the local supermarket and buy a few provisions, before they would close for the siesta. Then later in the afternoon, based on the idea that I was probably unlikely to be around for the next centenary, I decided to go to Garachico to see the events surrounding the celebrations of the 300th Anniversary of the volcanic eruption on May 5, 1706, which had destroyed the town and its livelihood. Little did I think I would be rubbing shoulders with the President of the Canary Islands and other assorted dignitaries.

On the way back from Garachico, I picked up a young lad hitching from Buenavista to Teno Alto. I've had to do this myself many times, because the buses are so infrequent and finish so early in the day. To Teno Alto, they are non existent at any time, so I know it is the only way to get around these parts.

The good news: when I got home and checked the lottery numbers, number 7 had come up that day. WOW! That means I've won a whole 2.5 euros.

Intruder Alarm

So, here I was minding my own business at the keyboard, dog at my feet this morning, when suddenly, a singular caterwaul broke the morning's silence. Holly's sense of direction, it has to be said, is somewhat better than mine. As I began to check various directions, she bolted straight out towards the back utility room.

Nanoseconds later, Khan came rushing through the house at the speed of a bullet and fired himself out of the front door between the gaps in the trellised "kiddy gate". He was closely followed by a ginger cat of unknown origins, who was catching up on him rapidly as he passed through the house.

Kitty was right behind the stranger. Considering that all three cats only had to traverse one 12 foot room and the 6 foot wide hallway to reach the door, either the dog wasn't trying or she's supremely daft. She failed to catch any of them!

Betty was observing all this, calmly and serenely, from the safety of a windowsill and Mico was in the garden, not far from the front of the house. It all happened far to quick for him too. When I took the dog out to investigate what she'd missed (she wouldn't settle until she'd made sure the intruder was gone), Mico was just sitting there, transfixed, with a shell-shocked "WTF was that?" look on his face.

And, as we strolled down the garden, Balu ambled lazily up from the vines opposite to see what was going on. "You've missed all the fun, lad.", I thought.

In truth, there did not seem to be a great deal of animosity towards this stranger and the disturbance was minimal: everyone returned to whatever they were doing quickly once he'd left and it is the second time I have seen him loitering around recently, which probably means he's been around much more that I haven't been aware of. Presumably now, he's "cased the joint" and got up the confidence to come in the back window in search of the food that is served out in that back room. No doubt, this will open a new chapter in the tales of the feline frolics.