Moving address

I have moved to www.40minus1.wordpress.com see you there x

One more thing

It's really late here, and I've been filing for hours, going through papers etc, trying to remember why I kept the buggers in the first place. And I have been in raptures with the special performance that Elbow have recorded with the BBC Orchestra at the Abbey Road Studios. If you get the chance to hear it (it's on a loop on my tv at the moment, and I am very happy about that) then please do. Scruffy boys, amazing music. Love it.

Dynamics Part Two

So, it is my birthday soon.... I am trying to get into the spirit of things, with about as much enthusiasm as I did for Christmas: I know I will enjoy it when it gets here, I just can't stand all the fuss and business beforehand.

Last year my birthday was spent in a dismal bar on a gloomy Sunday in Santa Ponsa, losing at the quiz league. During the evening one of my friends got threatened by a drunken older lady who thought she'd had her coat stolen, and the rest of the regulars of this particular bar (who clearly didn't go out during the day except to purchase the next installment of Encyclopedia Britannica) wooped our asses at the quiz. I am in a team which plays home games and away games. This was the worst away game I'd ever been to. (FYI this season the team I play in is not doing any better than last year, even with the summer to swot up, but it's only a game..... isn't it?).

Anyhow, I have decided to take my birthday party destiny into my own hands and have decided to have a party at our house. Which instantly leads to Dynamics, Part Two. Some of my friends don't speak to some of my friends. Mallorca seems to be very good at this - the village thing, but in a bad way. I have a large group of friends and I would like them all to come to celebrate with me the passing of a year, so I have invited them all. And now leave it in the lap of the gods as to what happens next. Will they all come? If so, is the house large enough for some of them to hide from others in order to avoid confrontation? Or will there actually BE a confrontation? (Alcohol is extremely cheap here, so I am putting my money on this option).

More news as it breaks. Or as my crockery breaks. Mental note, buy plastic glasses and hide all sharp objects.

Bad blogger

I am a bad blogger. Not quite as bad as the dog who rips the bin apart as soon as I turn my back, and certainly not as bad as the naughty boys who've messed up the global economy, but bad nonetheless. I've missed lots of opportunities to blog and to express myself recently, but it's a bit tricky really to keep all of my thoughts in my head long enough to get them down.

My life is going in all sorts of directions at the moment, is yours? I've asked a friend of mine, who is into the big picture and meanings of life etc to explain, and she told me that it was 'All Change' for everyone. Apparently Obama is a big signpost for this change, God I hope he doesn't mess up.

Family life is ticking over, G learns another million words everyday, and another trillion ways to use them, normally to express her position on any given subject. Happily, she is learning to read and is very interested in learning how to write. She seems to have made the division between the language she speaks at school and the language she speaks at home now as an apple is no longer a 'poma' which has made teaching her the letter A a lot easier.

Mallorca is standing still, holding its breath to see what will happen with the tourist industry this year. People (who have no more claim on being an expert than I do) are sagely saying, 'the people who have money, still have money' but to be honest I am no more broke now than I was when the credit crunch became something we all knew about. I don't know yet if it has affected me, but I know it has affected the people with money. We are still shopping at the supermarket, still turning on the lights when we get home, still cracking open a €2 bottle of wine. But so far we haven't had to curb our caviar and speedboat habits, as we've never had them!

We shall see. . .

P.S.

Still thinking about publishing the rant. Might just be in terrible mood due to lack of alcohol and nicotine in my system..... day eight and starting to really feel it now. Apparently if there's no pain then there's no gain..... hmmm.

What I did on my holidays

I've written a rant, which I now have to sleep on (don't want to offend anyone and need to edit it) so, in the meantime, here is my list of things to do which I wrote before Christmas....

Christmas to do list

To do
Defrost fridge
Chop a lot of wood
Walk dog
De-flea animals
Replace glass in broken window
Clean car
Buy mouse poison
Find out which hoover bag fits the hoover
Paperchains
Send cards
Put wooden box on blocks so it stops rotting
Take money to bank
Air freshener
Breath mints
Get hair done
Find clothes without holes in
Can the dog come to xmas?
Buy light bulb for fridge
Book flights for v & c’s wedding
Collect shoe – Monday
Glue boots back together
Make presents for Georgie and Trudi
Do tax return
Wax legs
Bake mincepies
Sort out office, G’s room, bathroom
Labels & wrapping
Edit interview
New Year’s Ads

Back to basics

Well, it's cold here now. And it's time to get busy with the wood burning stove. It's quite therapeutic to have to clean it out, lay the fire with twisty bits of newspaper and twigs, and then gradually build it up as it catches and starts to defrost the house once again. There's been snowstorms and weather you only read about in the Bible on the island for the last couple of days so I'm not actually exaggerating.

We've been lucky enough to have friends who live on fincas with lots of fallen trees and own their own chainsaws, so it's been easy enough for Ollie to take the dog into the woods for an hour, carve up some wood, deliver half to our friends and take the other half for ourselves.

Alternatively you can buy wood from the wood lady who lives in Andratx. No one knows her real name, but she's lived in Andratx all of her life along with her husband, brother and two sons. One day she told me that she had been to Barcelona . . . .once. They sell wood, and seem to live amongst bags and bags of the stuff in their house; you can catch a glimpse of it when you knock on the door which declares 'Lena informes aqui'. When I first arrived in Mallorca I thought that Lena was a psychic who informed inside . . . it wasn't until the first winter came round that I realised that Lena is the Spanish word for Firewood. Doh.







In the credit crunch though, even shelling out for a bag of firewood for the paltry sum of €4.50 a bag (when you get through 3 or 4 a week) is a bit steep. So, it was back to basics last weekend when although there was wood available, there were no chainsaws working that we could lay our hands on. Off to the woods we all went, Gigi included (note Dolly having a little rest on top of the tree whilst she was off looking for twigs), to gather and saw and chop. It wasn't long before I started to get that Little House on the Prairie feeling, and began to fantasise about living in the middle of nowhere, with just my man, my baby and the dog for company: living off the land, harvesting nuts and berries like an overgrown squirrel. We got a good enough haul and then tumbled back down the tracks to civilisation (the Renault Kangoo living up to its name as it bounced up and down over the bumps).

The back to basics feeling lasted all the way to yesterday when the weather blew up the electricity supply to our friends's finca, and we realised that there was absolutely no way we could cope without Strictly Come Dancing, Facebook and online streaming. Although, if anyone wanted to buy us a Christmas present then we have our eye on a sexy little chainsaw at Leroy Merlins . . . .

Saturday December 13th - Dynamics

We went to the local Christmas fair this morning, an ideal place for picking up little knick knacks and bumping into people we haven't seen in a while. In fact I managed to bump into someone I don't remember how I even know, but she definately knew me. I kept the conversation going (in Spanish I'll have you know) whilst trying to figure out a) what her name was, b) how she knew me or indeed c) any tiny clue at all which would mean I could personalise the conversation beyond the mildly interested, 'And how is your family?' style of questioning.

I'm ashamed to say, I didn't manage to identify her, but we wished each other a very merry Navidad and my daughter, Bobo and I walked on our way.

Living in such a small community, after living in London, came as quite a shock to me when I first moved here - I couldn't get used to people knowing my business, or thinking that it was okay that they knew my business. And sometimes you get too close to someone that you subsequently regret doing it, and occasionally you know that if you bump into certain individuals that there will be words 'said'. So it was with an anxious heart that I came face to face with a couple who have been avoiding me for a few weeks now: actually, ignoring me would be more accurate. We drop our kids at school, I frantically wave at them and they pretend as if they haven't seen me as they drive away in their car. Well this time, there was no escape, they had a stall at the fair, and I bluntly, but politely, stood there in front of them until they had to say hello. It went okay, whatever thing it is that they are cross with me about, wasn't mentioned. I bought something from their stall, gave them an idea for another place they could go to sell their stuff, and left.... feeling rather proud of myself. Have bridges been mended, is it all good now? Who knows, in this little village it can be all smily happy people to your face, whilst behind your back it's et tu brute and the knife sharpener.

But what else to do except be nice? I don't know why they have been avoiding me, I don't know even if it's just my imagination; perhaps coincidentally they both need visits to the opticians, or is it that I am finally beginning to get close enough to the local village people to be treated as one of them in some cases?

The Mallorquins have an odd personality trait: (which has been confirmed by other Mallorquin friends of mine), even if you know them really well they will not say hello to you first in the street, in the fear that you might snub them or not recognise them. That they will be humiliated by the fact that you did not return the greeting. Interesting that such a tough, resiliant race of people should also be so sensitive.

New Luna Website

The Luna Radio website has moved from lunamallorca.com to www.lunaradio.fm

New Golf Courses for Kids

MALLORCA GOLF ACADEMY JUNIOR GOLF COURSES

Mallorca Golf Academy have new courses commencing this November for the young golfers.

6 week courses at:

SANTA PONSA COUNTRY CLUB:
Commences Sunday 2nd November 11 am till 12 midday

Santa Ponsa Golf 1 - driving range
Commences Saturday 1st November 4pm till 5pm

Places are limited so please call early.


Please call Linda on 629 632051 or call in to the shop in El Toro for information.

The littlest hobo of toy town

We’ve lost Leo.

He was the first toy that we ever bought for our daughter, Gigi. She’s cuddled him, carried him around, fed him biscuits, dressed him up in her favourite princess outfit, introduced him to strangers, been photographed with him endlessly, and slept with him every day since she was born, twiddling his stupidly long ears as she drifted off. He’s a sad looking character, bought in the second hand shop in Andratx for the paltry sum of a euro back when I was heavily pregnant and we were shopping for cheap baby stuff to get ready for the big event. People couldn’t really decide what he was: a teddy with unnaturally elongated ears, a rabbit? No, he’s her perrito. And he’s gone. Muneça down, missing in action.

I’m devastated. I still have my first toy, a (now) three legged lamb, missing vital parts of its anatomy, and fur, and I always imagined Gidg would keep Leo forever as a reminder of her childhood.

My husband, Ollie, and I have recreated the scene: we last remember Gigi having him at the Port Andratx ice cream parlour, where Gigi always, without fail, has the strawberry sorbet because it looks the most exciting, and then makes sure that she also gets to eat everyone else’s icecreams as well. We’ve turned out both cars in the hope he’ll be lurking underneath. We’ve postered the Port, with a heartrending image of the odd little stuffed dog. Nothing. I find myself peering into building sites, and dark corners of car parks hoping to catch a glimpse of a long brown ear or his dirty beige fur. (I can’t tell you how embarassing it is when your child’s favourite toy is constantly the colour of an unwashed floor, or the intrigues and trickeries it took to magic him away from her for long enough to get him in and out of the washing machine for a quick spruce up).

If there were only a Missing Stuffed Toy helpline we could leave our details with; perhaps he’s tried to contact us and can’t get home.

In the course of beginning to write this first post in ages I did what I always do: find a hundred other things to do first whilst trying to conjure up the right words to use. In this case it involved completely reorganising the upstairs of my house. I searched high and low for any sign of Leo. Every cupboard was emptied, every piece of furniture moved, so I have contributed to the major jigsaw and plastic toy mess that now awaits me for the next time I have to write something.

But the displacement activity (a.k.a. completely unecessary but very satisfying house doctoring) served to remind me that I shouldn’t own white soft furnishings. You know how it goes, ‘It’s sunny, we live in Mallorca, let’s throw some white rugs on the floor and white covers on the sofas to really let the house look light and funky’. But less than a day later, they’re all that greyish colour and are begging to go in the wash.

I don’t know why I bothered really.

The reality is that we have two cats, two dogs, an (almost) three year old, and live in a dust bowl: S’Arracò – drive through it, blink and you’ve missed it. But live in it, and it lives with you, in your house, great dustpan fulls of it. There’s more of S’Arracó in my house than there is outside. It is a Mallorquin housewife’s nightmare, and is why all of my neighbours religiously sweep the steps and pavements outside of their homes every morning whilst I am running to my car with a child loudly disagreeing with me under one arm, wishing I had one of those politely obedient Spanish children which does what she is told and is never late for nursery.

The thing is Gidg hasn’t really noticed Leo’s gone, except when she sees a photograph of him, and then longingly repeats his name, which is heartbreaking. She has a stable of underused teddies, dolls, giraffes, monkeys, she’s even got a polar bear; and they are now all getting their share of affection and taking turns at being her bedtime companion as we read yet again The Tiger Who Came To Tea´. Perhaps it’s just as well that Leo is no longer around, as Gigi is due to start at the local school next week, and under no circumstances are the children allowed to bring sentimental objects of fake fur with them.

But I haven’t quite relinquished the search, I’m not ready to let go of her first toy, I’ve even scoured the back garden, as one of our dogs has taken to stealing teddies and running away to hide and devour them. I’ve looked under the spikiest of bushes, and heaviest of building materials, which are biding their time in the garden for that great day when we have the money, time and energy to start the home improvements.

I guess it’s our first real rite of passage as a family, yes I know that cutting teeth, learning to walk, the first words, are all major moments in a child’s development. But learning the lesson to let go, and that, especially on the island of Mallorca where people come and go, arrive and leave through the seasons, that sometimes friends move on, is a difficult one, whatever age you are.

I’ve comforted myself with the idea that Leo is the stuffed toy equivalent of the dog from the 80’s TV show ‘The Littlest Hobo’, this friendly creature would come and stay for a while, sort out a family and its problems and then move on to his next good deed.

So whereever you are Leo, good luck, keep your ears clean, and thank you for the memories.

This week on the show

We spoke about TaPalma -the Tapas fair in Palma, we spoke about a restaurant in Inca called Cellar C'an Ripoll, we spoke about a bodega Son Vives Wine Estate in Banyalbufar, and the Llampuga fiesta in Cala Rajada which is happenning this weekend. For all the information on this week's food information go to www.skybluemallorca.com for this and a whole load more!

Also, if you want to know about the Arts Festival at Sa Taronja ¡PING! then visit http://sataronja.blogspot.com/

Have a great weekend!

vicki x

Gigi's birthday party

http://s49.photobucket.com/albums/f266/OliverNeilson/GG%20Party/?action=view&current=598861fd.pbw

Click on the link and you can see G's birthday party photos!

Thanks so much to Izzie who did the facepainting. You can email her at isabel.r.bernard@gmail.com if you want to book her for your own kid's party!

Last week's theme - older people in Mallorca

This was theme of the week last week:

Common threads of the week were the problems of overcoming islolation, lack of ability to communicate in Spanish, the difficulties presented if your family isn't living close by, how a lack of mobility affects people when the public transport system isn't all that great.

I spoke to

Sally from Angels Nursing
She offers private health care in the home in a language which the older person can understand. She told us about how if you are a European Citizen then you can claim free medication. She also recomended that all of us make a will! (http://www.angelsnursingagency.com/)

Diane Foden, living in Soller about cost of living and health care on the island (www.twocrumbliesandacat.blogspot.com)
We also spoke about ESRA (the English Speaking Residents' Association) and its importance to her when she first moved to the island (www.esramallorca.com)

Jackie from Age Concern

Age Concren helps older people in many ways on the island: offering home and hospital visits, running social events and fundraising tirelessly. They lend medical equipment and are often asked to help with liasion with medical services. They count people who are 50 + as being eligible for their services.
Jackie also told me that their fundraising events are always rather lively and fun!

They are desperate for new volunteers especially if they speak fluent Spanish. If anyone is interested they can contact Jackie on 971-231520 or write giving full details including email address to Age Concern Mallorca, Apartado 7, 07180 Santa Ponsa.


Jackie Evans from MallorcaSolutions.com. They can help with getting your pension, health card and other paperwork organised with the government. They are also in contact with a local residential home for older people. (www.mallorcasolutions.com)

Last week's theme - charities in Mallorca

Okay, I've been a bit lax in getting this all up on the blog as I've been a bit distracted by the hundreds of emails I've had about the dog with no name!

We spoke to:

Liam Live who is doing a four mile open sea swim to raise money for returning military personnel http://www.liamlive.com/

Jayne Coombs who is looking for help with her goal to open a physiotherapy clinic in Ghana. She is hoping for sunglasses to help people who work in a salt flat, football kits for the kids at a local orphanage, builders and plumbers and electricians to volunteer to go down to Ghana in Jan 2009 to help build a school, and of course, money to make it all happen.

http://www.ong.arrakis.es/
http://www.directhelpngo.blogspot.com/
http://www.therapyfirstmallorca.com/

The kayakers who have just successfully kayaked around Mallorca for the Allen Graham Charity for Kidz.
www.enduro-team.net

Jackie Evans about SOS Animales in Calvia - they are holding a fundraising fun day in Portals on Sunday 27th Sept - they need bric a brac, tombola prizes and volunteers!

SOS Animal Mallorca: Association providing information on the welfare and protection of animals in Mallorca. Also an animal refuge whose objective is to find new homes for the abandoned and ill-treated animals of the islandPostal Address: Apart. Corres 6, 07184 Calvia, MallorcaTel: 670 022 963 / 971 606 467 / 971 233 032

The dog now has his own website

http://thedogwithnoname.blogspot.com/

The dog now has his own website to keep you updated on how he is doing. Please check it out. I've also put missing pet appeals there.

The dog with no name, Thursday update

The dog with no name enjoying a cuddle with his foster carer, Rita

Hi all.

I went along to see the patient this morning and he is doing much better. He was lifting his head up, making doggie noises and being much more interested in what is going on around him. Rita, his foster carer, told me that he doesn't make a fuss about having his dressings changed but he's started to resist taking his pills orally, which she says is a good sign as he's getting stronger and showing his personality a bit more.

If you pick up a copy of the Euroweekly today then you might see he's featured in there.

Also, money wise we're doing very well. We're over the €1100 mark now and only have to collect another €400 to make the target.

Riccardo is back next week from his holiday and I'll find out then what is happenning about the denuncia of the ex owner

Have a lovely day and thanks very much for showing your support.

vicki x

The dog with no name, Monday update

I spoke to Riccardo the vet today.

The dog is doing good! He took his first few steps this morning - he hadn't been able to walk since he arrived at the surgery last week. The ticks are under control, he's eating and drinking and 'doing his business' as Riccardo so delicately puts it!

On the donations front - so far several people have been to the surgery to drop off money..... Riccardo estimated it was about €250; I've just heard from Manuel and Jens at Restaurant Jens - they did a whip round at their lunchtime service and have collected €280! Which is terrific.

The Euro Weekly are running the story across all of the editions of their paper - so I'm really happy to get the extra publicity for the dog, and they've also pledged a €150 personal donation which is very kind.

And money is starting to be donated into the La Caixa account - the balance is at €116 on that account, with plenty more pledges made to put money into the account.

So if everyone who's pledged money actually makes the donations - either directly at the surgery (which is open from 9.30 to 13-30 this week and closed in the afternoons) or into the La Caixa account - all details below - then that leaves us about €500 short of the €1500 target..... so if you know of anyone who might make a donation then please introduce them to this blog.

Thanks and have a lovely day

the dog with no name - update

Since the late night email I sent out yesterday and the radio appeals on Luna and Radio One Marratxi, we’ve so far had pledges of donations for about €350! But please don’t forget to make the transfers !

The smallest, but most touching donation came from a little girl, called Holly; she emptied her piggybank and gave all of her ‘good money’ (ie not the play money) which came to a grand total of €3 to help the dog, and the biggest donation so far has been from the Euro Weekly Newspaper who pledged €150.

I’ve checked in with Riccardo and the dog is making good progress – the dog was actually hungry this morning which is a great sign. The dog was weighed today, he is 40k, but should be twice that….. he’s got a long way to go before he’s healthy again.

Thanks also for the fantastic emails and advice. I think Riccardo and his wife and their team are feeling very supported now which is important as they are giving their time and efforts for nothing.

If you can make a donation towards the care of the dog then please do so.

You can pay it into

La Caixa 2100 4379 64 02 00053059 El Toro. Urbanizacion El Toro. Gran Via 21, Calvia, Spain.

I am the administrator of the account and it's in my name (Victoria McLeod), and the account nickname is ‘the dog with no name’.

Or you can go directly to the Vet surgery in Peguera to make your donation there - which six people have already done this morning! For the address of the surgery visit: http://www.clinicaveterinariapaguera.es/

Thanks and have a great weekend!

the dog with no name

I was contacted yesterday morning by Riccardo who is the vet at Clinica Veterinaria Peguera. He is faced with a dilemma. On Tuesday a man called him to go to see his sick dog which was in a finca in Calvia. Riccardo went along and found this poor dog in a terrible condition – dramatically underweight, unable to walk, riddled with parasites, ticks, worms, you name it, and with his throat and legs shredded to pieces by repeated attacks on the dog from rats – he was too weak and confined to fight them off. The dog’s front left leg has no skin on it from the rat attacks, and you can see the rat tooth marks in the dog’s throat and shoulders. He is missing fur all over the front of his body, and is so thin that it’s a real shock to see a dog in this condition.

Riccardo told the dog’s owner – I think we should put the dog down now to put him out of his misery, but the owner insisted that he would do whatever it would take to get the dog back to a healthy condition. So Riccardo took the dog to his surgery in Peguera and started to nurse him. Three days on, the dog is starting to turn the corner, he’s holding his head up, drinking water and eating without assistance. Riccardo and his wife told me that they have never taken so many ticks off of an animal before, ever. Three days on, and after repeated grooming, they are still finding more. The dog is currently fighting off blood poisioning from the rat bites, and is being pumped full of vitamins, antibiotics, saline….. (I’m saying, ‘the dog’ instead of giving him a name as I don’t think he even knows his name….. he’s never been cared for, or fed properly, he’s lived in this outhouse in a finca all of his life – Riccardo thinks he is about 1 ½ yrs old. He needs a name, but firstly he needs to get better. . . ).

Then yesterday, the dog owner called Riccardo and told him that he had changed his mind, didn’t want to pay for any treatment, and wanted the dog to be put down . . . Riccardo took a decision and told the (now ex) owner that he wouldn’t be putting the dog down as he believes he will recover if he can continue to receive treatment.

That’s when Riccardo called me to ask if I could help to make an appeal: he has asked for help to meet the costs of the medications, and special diets that the dog will need to get well, the dog will also need to have an operation on his leg when he is stronger: to graft skin back onto his leg where the rats (I’m not kidding, RATS) chewed away at his leg. Riccardo (who is a fantastic vet) is offering his services and time and facilities for free. He has asked me to keep the accounts for him so that there will be no misunderstandings and that everything is above board.

I went to see the poor thing this afternoon, and it’s so awful to see him. The guys at the vets are taking really good care of him, and they have a lot of respect for his ability to pull back from what really was the brink of death.

Let’s not go into the type of person who would let an animal get into this state. It’s incredibly cruel to have neglected him to the extent that he was literally starving to death and being eaten alive.

When you think of what type of dog this is, it gets even sadder – he’s a St Bernard, the breed which heroically saves walkers and skiers in the mountains, and has such a good tempered and gentle character.

Riccardo has estimated that the cost of medication alone will be in the region of €1500 to get this guy well. If every person who I have emailed donated just €10 then we could cover it. I think it’s worth it. Right now he is staying in the vet’s surgery and has a foster home with a very good carer in Calvia over the weekend when the surgery is closed. I know it’s just one more case of animal cruelty in Mallorca, but this is one which is right in front of me asking me to help, and now it’s right in front of you too, so please if you can help, then do…..

If you can make a donation towards his care then please do so. You can pay it into La Caixa 2100 4379 64 02 00053059 Accounts information will be available and open to anyone who wants to see it.

If there are other things you think you could help with then please call or email me……….

After such an awful start in life, let’s give this gentle giant the chance of finding out how nice humans can be…… Imagine seeing the photos of him healthy, happy and rehomed with new owners, think how great you’ll feel that you helped him on his way.

I’ll keep you updated on his progress – just mail me back to tell me that you want to know how his story pans out….

Please pass this onto anyone you think might be able to help…

Have a lovely weekend.

Vicki x

Up and coming themes of the week

If you want to contribute to the show then please email me at vicki@lunamallorca.com

Themes to come soon:

Languages
Setting up a business in Mallorca
Being Happy
Dr Stoma's trip to Ghana with Jayne Coombs
Getting your child into school in Mallorca

Catalan

I've been trying to cobble together some people who wanted to speak about Catalan and its importance to the Mallorcan culture, but miserably failed to get much together.... I'll keep trying on this one. But here is some information from Jackie Evans at Calvia Council about lessons.

Hi Vicki
I have just been down to the IMEB office here in the Town Hall . The catalan courses are run by the ESCUELA DE ADULTOS in Magalluf .

The information below has been taken from the calvia website www.calvia.com"www.calvia.com Click on the "Union Jack" for English and click on IMEB on the tool bar and you get the following text :

The School for Adults office is closed until the 1st September so I cant get any more info . I do know that is is subsidised by the "Conselleria de Edución " and Calvia Town Hall ......its very reasonably priced.


School for Adults
www.calvia.com/web/plantilles/jstl/Calvia/img/gral/ptos.gif"
This educational centre's aim is to provide permanant education to adults of the municipality. Access is available to all citizens over 18 years of age.

Educational Offers:

Initial teaching to correct illiteracy and learning to read and write in the Spanish language.
Compulsory secondary education: classroom teaching and individualized.
Preparation for the exams for the access to the Univerisity and access to Professional Formation.
Languages: Catalan, English and German.
Specific Professional Formation : specialities of Assistant treatments Nurse and Commerce Manager.
Other services
a) Información desk, enrolment and preparation for the Catalan exams of the Balearic Islands Government.
b) Service and academic orientation information
c) Excursions and cultural outings.

Manager responsable for the service: Miguel Mas
Headmistress of the School for Adults (by agreement with the Ministry of Education and Culture): Francisca Muńoz
Address: Camí de Sa Porrasa, 6, Magaluf
Telephone: 971.13.13.50
E-mail: ceacalvia@educacio.caib.es
Hours of attention to the public: Monday to Fridays from 9.30 a 13.30 h and from 16 a 19.30h. From 15 July to 31 August closed.

Having a Baby in Mallorca

There's a lot to write up - but bear with me.

If there's anything in particular you want to know about then send me an email. Vmc

IF YOU WANT INFORMATION ON BENEFITS AND LEGALITIES OF REGISTERING YOUR CHILD IN MALLORCA THEN PLEASE CONTACT BECKY AT MALLORCASOLUTIONS (www.mallorcasolutions.com)

RESOURCES

Excellent (but pretty full on) natural birthing book is The Gentle Birth Method by Gowri Motha. Be prepared for a more eastern approach – very much on the natural earthy end of the scale. Very optimistic and positive

Excellent website is Babycentre.co.uk. For pre-conception, pregnancy and parenting advice.

Pre-natal yoga and meditation
Karen and John – Yoga to be
Private classes near Alaro - 610 331 879
Or email chazjaffs@hotmail.com

Homeopathic stuff
In Spain for all Homeopathic remedies ask for granulos (larger pills), apart from the pre-natal Caulophylum and Pulsatilla – ask for those in globulos (eeny weeny pills)
Don’t let the pills touch your hands – take them from the lid
You can order these from many pharmacies or have a homeopathic pharmacist make them up for you. In Mallorca the only place I know of is one of the two pharmacies on Caller Balanguera – Salvat Pharmacy – 24hour.

Midwives – for anti natal and post natal visits and for home births

Recommended therapists (Mallorca)
Cranio sacral therapy For pre and post natal
Maria (Deia and Mondays in Palma) 679 860 401
Lakshmi (Biniamar and some days in Palma) 649 067487
Howard (Alaro and mobile service) 686 504 867

Reflexology
Vicki (Andratx) 649 090 886

Reiki
Sue (Near Binissalem) 600 680 333
Joyce (Palma, may-sept only) 619 830 666

Acupuncture
Gudrun (Bunyola/Palmanola) 690 294 058

Osteopathy
Lakshmi (Biniamar and Palma) as above

Pregnancy massages
Vicki (Andratx) as above
John and Karen (Alaro) as above
Howard (Alaro, Santa Ponsa and mobile) as above

Fitness in Mallorca

After some rather unkind comments about how fat I was getting, I decided to do theme of the week on Fitness a couple of weeks ago.

Here are the contact details for the people who I spoke to:

Katie Handyside
Personal Trainer and Nutritionist
Tel: (+34) 636 322 959
e-mail info@katiehandyside.com
http://www.katiehandyside.com/

She told me that the best thing to do was get moving doing something that I really enjoyed.... just bung on the ipod and get out and about. Any small changes contribute towards a bigger change. She recomended finding motivational music and getting out early in the day so that the exercise was completed before the rest of the day kicked off.

Alexandra Swindells
Clinical Hypnotherapist
Tel: (+34) 620 266 212
alexswindells@gmail.com
http://www.alexandraswindells-hypnosis.co.uk/

Alex told us about the benefits that hypnotherapy can have in helping with motivation to get out and get moving. She also gave us an interesting insight into what it feels like to be under hypnosis.

Anne Mawson
Pickles Ballroom
Tel (+34) 685 593 150
info@ballroomdancemallorca.com
http://www.ballroomdancemallorca.com/

Anne and her partner Ian run Pickles Ballroom in Magalluf. They host Latin In Line classes which individuals can go along to without a partner and enjoy dancing to latin music. She said that it's often easier to exercise in groups. The Latin in Line classes are pòpular for the benefits you get from dancing - not just fitness, but also increased alertness, and a mood lifter.


Dr Michael Stoma
Tel (+34) 971 676 334
http://www.ong.arrakis.es/
http://www.directhelpngo.blogspot.com/

I initially spoke to Dr Stoma about the basic health checks you might like to do before you embark on any particular exercise programme - blood pressure in particular is important, But we then went on to talk about his impending trip to Ghana with physiotherapist Jayne Coombs - they're off to initiate the set up of a physiotherapy centre in the Dagme Hospital..... So when they return for their travels I hope to speak to them on the air.

If you would like to donate any supplies such as bandages or orthopadic supports please contact Jayne Coombs at 667732992 or to make a donation to the Physiotherapy Clinic Project, East Dagme Hospital through www.mediterranea.org.es

timekeeping

WHERE exactly have the last three weeks gone?

I am under a fog of incomprehension. Perhaps it is August in Mallorca, the heat, the craziness, the general work like a slave cause the tourists are here mentality that we all have to pick up on in the height of the summer, whatever it is, I need to figure it out.

I know, from bitter experience, that the month of August is bliss for anyone on holiday in Mallorca, and absolute living hell for anyone trying to make a living on this island. (I almost put the word 'paradise' in there in italics and inverted commas, but decided that no, that would be too cynical and would put people off living here...!). Imagine, trying to keep everything together in a non airconditioned environment, everyone around you wants to be treated, wants to be pampered, and all you want to to is go to sleep and stop thinking. Add on a young child, no money, mortgage worries, general crazy politics and you have a recipe for disaster.

Grrrr.

I have also noticed that I am going blind and have to wear bloody glasses to read small print.

Usual service will resume... at some point.

Back to business

Just to finish my update of last week's theme which was the economy..... On Wednesday I spoke to Kate Mentink who is the Deputy Mayor of Calvia (one of the richest local authorities in Spain - because of its links to the tourism industry). She told me that she had been on a tour of the local hotels and found that they were all doing okay, although there were hotels in the North of the island which weren't doing so well.

Blog ettiquette

In the words of my chum, Diane Foden (http://twocrumbliesandacat.blogspot.com/) , I'm new here, so....

To all of the nice people who have added me to their blog listings. thank you. There is no particular order - it's all a bit haphazard here as you may now have noticed (one day I'll sit down and properly explain what the bejeezus has been going on for the past few months) but here goes:

Carloz at Spain: The Blog

Andrew at AlcudiaPollensa

Diane at Two Crumblies and a Cat

Jan at a finca life

Laura at Move to Portugal

Thank you for the nice comments from Rachael at Miles Away in France

Thank you to all of the people who have mailed me to say they like what I am writing, it's very encouraging.

I have also added the thrilling Live Feed so I can see that real people are reading my blog, not just my mum! So I have to explain that the blog is partly about my life, and partly a blog to update listeners to Luna Radio and Radio One Marratxi on the themes of the week.... so that hopefully explains the haphazardness of the whole deal.

The idiot's guide to the economy by Oliver Neilson

Economic rule number one applies to more or less everything not just money and oil.

Supply and demand, if a market (sugar, oil, money, cars, anything) has loads of supply but not many buyers, the sellers drop their prices.(buyers market). If a market has low supply, and high demand, prices rise as buyers effectively bid up the price (think ´Playstations just before Christmas)

CREDIT CRUNCH

The World economy is driven mainly by banks having cash reserves and lending it to each other and their customers, this is called LIQUIDITY

Over the past decade mainly US banks lent massive (100%+) mortgages to customers with low credit ratings, these are called SUB PRIME MORTGAGES.

Dealers for the banks sold these debts to other banks in the form of mortgage backed bonds this process is called DEBT REPACKAGING. They were bought by banks and investment funds and pensions all over the world (including UK and Spanish banks) who did not sufficiently understand the risks.

When large amounts of the sub-prime mortgage customers began to default on their mortgages the house prices fell meaning that the banks did not have enough money when the repossessed houses were sold.

The losses have amounted to trillions of dollars world wide. As a result the banks did not have enough money to lend to their customers or to other banks (they lacked LIQUIDITY), as a result, banks that rely on market liquidity (like Northern Rock) found their supply cut off. (e.g. you are a green grocer, you buy veg wholesale and sell it retail and keep the difference, if the veg wholesalers have no veg, you are in trouble). This lack of liquidity is called the CREDIT CRUNCH….So banks can´t lend morgages, people can´t buy houses, so sellers have to drop their prices if they want/have to sell QED house prices fall.

OIL PRICES

Oil is limited and running out, all the easy (cheap) to extract oil has been dug up and sold years ago. New oil reserves are harder (more expensive) to get to, so the suppliers factor this into the cost.

There is plenty of oil left to drill world wide but it is increasingly expensive to get at (under ice sheets etc) and at today’s prices, it is too expensive to make a profit out of, as prices go up, it then becomes economic for the oil companies to get at.

However the biggest factor pushing up oil prices are is the development of India, China and other developing countries. They are basically going through their own Industrial Revolution with people leaving the fields and heading for the towns in their 10´s of millions every year. An urban dweller uses 3.5 times as much oil as an urban dweller.

So with demand and supply rules in mind, there is a limited supply of oil, and loads more people want it, so up go the prices, and give or take, they will keep doing it, THIS IS NOT A TEMPORARY EFFECT. (until we can find alternative energy sources, solar, wind hydrogen or whatever). The price of everything (I mean that) in the world is affected by the price of oil, (example, of a factory making anything you like. factories run on electricity which is going up because its mainly made with oil, their employees probably drive to work and will want a pay rise as petrol is getting more expensive, all of their components will be trucked in, all their products will be trucked out to a distributor and retailer, who use electricity, and employees drive to work…..etc)

All of these increases in a company's costs get passed on in the prices they charge to their customers. Rising prices are called INFLATION (this type of inflation is called COST PUSH INFLATION.

FOOD PRICES

More prosperous people in the third world eat more food, and so increase demand, and push prices up. Food producers are also subject to COST PUSH INFLATION as above, this also pushes up prices, as does the fact that large areas of prime agricultural land are now being turned over to growing biofuel, thus reducing the land available for food production (reducing supply as demand is increasing, see rule number one)

Keeping up?, good, last bit for now.

Finance ministers (Chancellors) and central banks (Bank of England and European Central Bank) can raise or lower interest rates to speed up or slow down an economy.

Interest rates up: Loans and Mortgages get more expensive and savings get higher interest so people spend less, if they spend less, demand reduces and prices come down, (rule #1). PRO Inflation reduces, CONS people feeling skint suddenly see their mortgage go up, and the electorate think you are a mismanaging the economy.

Interest rates down: Cheap to borrow money, no point putting it in a bank as you don´t get any interest, PRO, people feel a bit better off, CON fuels inflation setting up economic stress for the future.

Result, Dammed if you do, dammed if you don´t .

Questions, just call.

Money money money

Well, it's not exactly a cheery subject but we do have to talk about it don't we? Money makes the world go round, or is it Love? Well probably both if we're being honest.

Monday I spoke to Oliver Neilson who is the head of news for Luna Radio, and an ex-city gent. He gave me the 'idiot's guide' to the economy. Which I am hoping that he will write down and post on this blog as I don't want to get it wrong. Basically it's all America's fault, handing out mortgages to people who then can't make the payments, plus the cost of oil has more than doubled in the last year...... So is the economic situation hitting home in Mallorca? This week we're going to find out.....

This week's guests:
Mon: Oliver Neilson, Head of News, Luna Radio
Weds : Kate Mentink, Calvia Council
Fri: Daniel Chavarria Waschke. Engel & Voelkers

Moving to Mallorca - theme of the week

We're talking this week on Luna Radio (100.3fm or listen online at http://www.lunamallorca.com/) about moving to Mallorca.

Monday I spoke to Tomas who is originally from Mallorca. He moved to Ireland when he was a teenager - he lived in Ireland for several years, and really loves it, but once his kids had come along he felt that he needed to return to Mallorca as he thinks the healthcare system is better here.

Tuesday I spoke to Danny Darcy. Danny moved to Mallorca when his kids were small. He wrote his song Barcelona Sky after he and his wife did the infamous Barcelona ring road. If you've not driven around the Via Cintura in Barcelona then try to avoid it - especially if you're trying to make it to the ferry port to meet a boat! You can download Barcelona Sky at his website http://www.dannydarcy.net/. Danny told me that he loved living in Mallorca because of the positive feelings that emanate here.

Wednesday I spoke to Neil Crofts from http://www.authentictransformation.co.uk/ He moved with his kids and wife to Mallorca last year. He works as a life coach and you can subscribe to his free weekly email newsletter at his website. Neil said that he felt Mallorca was a great place to live from a work point of view as it is very well connected to the rest of Europe.

Thursday I spoke to Jan Edwards, who writes the blog http://afincalife.blogspot.com/ and Diane Foden who writes http://twocrumbliesandacat.blogspot.com/ both of which writing about the insanities and unusual happenings which us ex-pats experience once we've moved to Mallorca. Jan had some good advice - if you're thinking about moving here then rent first. Don't just leap in with both feet and buy a property, rent and be sure.

On Friday I spoke to Becky from www.mallorcasolutions.com and she totally blew my mind with the amount of paperwork that is needed when you first get here. The system has recently changed and you need an EU Citizens Certificate before you can get anything else now...... Just speak to her, as I am no expert!

Moving to Mallorca

this is me, in case you didn't know



Well, it was my four year anniversary, last week, of moving to Mallorca, and I felt that I should tell you my little story of how, and why, I ended up here.

The story can be split into parts, with the benefit of hindsight.

When I was a kid (before I turned ten and my father decided to buy a boat which meant all of our family holidays revolved around Poole Yacht Club and the English Channel), my father thought Spain was common. We never went to Spain on holiday, instead we would go to Malta or other places in the Med which offered good scuba diving (for him) and sunshine (for my mum) but Spain? Never.

Roll on a few years and I remember listening to my parents talking about travelling around the world, sailing in a yacht they had worked hard to buy and maintain.

Roll on again, to their divorce. Classic empty nest syndrome - oh, the kids have left home, do we still like each other? Er....

After my parents divorced (which is a whole other blog, which I won't ever write as it's far too messy and complicated) my mother headed for France, and my father headed for Mallorca, he'd been offered a job on the island, running a sailing school.

I couldn't believe that he'd moved to Mallorca, surely that was the most common of all places to go? Wasn't it full of lager louts and fat men in Union Jack shorts? (Although, I can recommend fat louts in UJ shorts, they are rather fun). I went to visit him a couple of months after he had moved to the island, and could not believe my eyes. Mallorca was the most enchanting place I could have imagined, I loved the mountains, the landscape, the beaches, the lifestyle, the people. I returned to London, to work, with a thrill. Cheap lovely holidays were on the cards for me. .....

Roll on again, not too far this time...

September 11 2001 does have a place in this story (as I should think it has in many peoples' stories) - my boyfriend (bf, who I had met at the beginning of 2001) and I were staying at my Mother's house in France when the planes hit the towers. We had no idea about it as we were gaily canoeing around a medieval moat in the Dordogne at the time (one of the rare occasions you will get me on the water these days). It wasn't until later in the day when I received a rather misjudged and misguided text message from a good friend of mine that I began to realise that something had happened and that perhaps we should turn on the tv right now.



We didn't turn the tv off again for 48 hours, we watched every second of those momentous and tragic events ..... My bf even knew someone who had died in the towers as he worked for a financial institution based in the States, whilst the bf worked in a satellite office at the top of the Canary Wharf Tower (could it be a future target for the same sort of attack?). On our return to London and our return to commuting to work everyday through the traffic and fighting against the tide of tube traffic, saying goodbye in the morning, every morning, became a rather more solemn and meaningful affair. In addition to that I had a couple of health scares, and just more and more pressure was piled onto the both of us at work. We offset it by being real London junkies - we knew every market, every museum, every interesting nook and cranny, intimately. But it was not shared by many of our friends, everyone was just too busy to really enjoy it with us.

Roll on a couple more years, and after a few more visits, and meeting my father's friends, I came to realise that Mallorca was a very friendly place to be, that the spirit of the community was strong. After one visit I returned to work and someone who barely knew me commented immediately on how much nicer I was being, and how much better I looked. I couldn't believe how transparent I had been. How obviously under pressure I seemed.


On my visits I met local Mallorquins, English, Dutch, Germans, French, Americans, Italians, and many other nationalities. I felt at home on this island, more at home here than I did at home (although, unlike many Londoners, I did actually know the names of my neighbours, on both sides of my little flat). The time came for me and bf (later to become husband) to go home from one particular trip. My father drove us to the airport where I actually broke down in tears as I simply did not want to leave.

On the plane back to London, bf and I examined why I felt so sad and so low. We concluded it was the lack of feeling part of my local community, and the draw of being included in something that I really missed.

I realised that I needed to escape, to grow, and to develop. I didn't want to work for other people anymore, I wanted to work for myself, to be creative and to do my own thing. In short I wanted to have an adventure. Could Mallorca offer me these things? I craved something that the big city could not give - intimacy. (Although I've come to realise now, in 2008, that sometimes I crave that anonymity that the big city could offer, the freedom of movement, without bumping into people you know... I can't remember the last time I was on a plane back to London without recognising the other passengers!). More importantly, I wanted a family of my own, and I couldn't accept the idea that any child I might bear would grow up amongst a concrete jungle when I had grown up in such a paradisical setting - okay it was only Hertfordshire, but it was green and we were free to move around without fear.

And so, the great 'Move to Mallorca' project began. It was not an easy undertaking given that neither of us had any money, although I did have a flat in Walthamstow that I was loathe to sell. The flat however was not in a condition to rent out either, and neither were my bf or I really in a position to take on a new job in a new country.... given that we both had very language based jobs. So I retrained as a massage and beauty therapist, and my bf worried about the fact he wasn't retraining as anything, but instead acted as backup - driving me to college, wiping my brow when exam times came round, and generally ignoring me when I became insufferable from the stress of having a full time job and a full time programme of lessons.

After two years, where the money was scraped together to make the flat into a nice rentable prospect, and I had sat, and passed (with distinctions, thank you), about twenty different qualifications, the time came to make some real plans and book some one way tickets.

We went to Mallorca for a quick trip, for my father's birthday celebrations, where my bf met his future boss - just like that. I should have known already that island life is like that, but I hadn't quite caught on. He met his boss, over a beer, where they both talked about their love of food, and one thing led to another and wouldn't you know it, a couple of days later, over another beer or two, my bf had a job in a full on, very busy, professional kitchen (whilst I had just spent two years re-qualifying in a vocational profession, all he had to do was have a beer with the boss and, bingo). On one proviso, that he could return to the island in three weeks time to take up the post. No problemo matey. Seize the nettle etc.

A little matter of a London Marathon, which my bf had been training for, had to be achieved, plus he had to hand in his notice, and we had to have an engagement/birthday/bye bye, we're off to Mallorca party. It was a whirlwind. A canapé of what was to come.

Bf moved on April 18th 2004, after completing the marathon. His parents came down to watch him run, and his Mum had a bit of a moment whilst ironing his shirts (we had to prevent her from making him a packed lunch for the plane). I waved him off at Stanstead Airport with a huge sigh and a full heart, and headed back into my studies. I quit my job at some point in the next six weeks or so, after raising enough money to redevelop the scheme I was working on, and concentrated on getting the rest of us (me and two cats, one with a questionable heart - which is why I drove, rather than flew) to Mallorca.

It was 13 weeks before I began my physical journey, but by this time I had already been on a journey for a couple of years. I had bored anyone who would listen that I was going to be moving to the beautiful island of Mallorca. Sometimes I had to tell other people to believe it myself. But the day did finally come where, after some judicious chicken wire placement (thank you, Mark) in the boot of my car, I packed the cats, and my most essential belongings, into a Mini Metro, and headed for Portsmouth.

The trip went ... okay. After an overnight ferry from Portsmouth to St Malo I reached my Mother's house on schedule in the Dordogne. There was a bit of an atmosphere, four years on I can't remember exactly what it was about, but I think it had something to do with floors and varnish - she was preparing for her summer lets. The next morning I fished the cats out from underneath wardrobes, promised them that I wouldn't make them do this journey again, attached them by special cat harnesses to the passenger seat of the Metro, took possession of a fried egg sandwich from my Mum, and headed South.

It's quite a long way from the Dordogne to Barcelona, as I started to realise when I only had a couple of hours left to make it to the ferry port. And once I admitted that to myself I began to panic: what if I didn't make it to the ferry before 16.00 which is when the fast ferry leaves, what if I had to wait until later that night when the overnight ferry would crawl across the Med? It simply wasn't an option as I glanced across at my two hyperventilating cats. There was no way any of us could stand a third night on the road.

The Barcelona Via Cintura will remain with me for the rest of my life. The lack of road signs, the huge lorries, and the roadworks, all meant that I didn't have a clue where or when I was supposed to leave the ring road to head for the ferry. I was not aided by 'supportive' phone calls from bf who rang me every twenty minutes or so to get updates on my progress. It disintegrated into me screaming at him to leave me alone so that I could concentrate on having a major car accident before reporting back.

Finally, finally, I managed to find the right exit. But it wasn't so easy to get to the passenger ferry. I drove like a maniac, trying to find the Transmeditteranea offices, as of course, I didn't have a ticket. Somewhere, somehow, a god, of some description, was watching over me as I did find the offices. Panicking and off-kilter entirely I ran into the offices to buy my ticket. I watched the clock slowly grind around to three minutes to four. Could I make a credit card payment, show the documents for the cats, and myself in three minutes? The man behind the counter picked up on my urgency and started asking strange, and laborious, questions in Spanish, which at the time I had no hope of being able to understand or to answer. Perhaps it was the murderesss glint in my eye that finally got him to step on it, but I managed to launch myself back into my steaming Mini Metro, and up a ramp onto the fast ferry at literally one minute to four. I was the last car on and the first car off.

As I came to a halt in the belly of the boat, and turned off the Metro's engine, I was overcome. Heaving sobs of relief flooded out of me. I cried for a full five minutes before I could get a hold of myself. And so I completely missed waving goodbye to mainland Europe as I was having a moment in a Mini Metro, (not many people can say that).

After having made sure the cats were going to be comfortable, and not too hot, I went upstairs to the passenger deck. I bought one of those little cans of beer and sat down on a chair. I woke up two hours later in exactly the same position. Can of beer exactly positioned in my hand; I had not moved a muscle. I had simply passed out from the effects of stress and tiredness.

When I came round, having ignored the plaintive calls of my mobile phone, with beer intact, I immediately checked to see if I still had my wallet. Typical Londoner. (Although I know Barcelona is not a place for the gullible or the vulnerable, having heard enough rip-off stories about the place to fill a book).

Once the ferry had docked in Palma de Mallorca the trusty Metro was the first off pole. Rolling down the ramp onto Mallorquin soil, I don’t mind telling you I had another moment. I had no idea why I needed to be here, no real clue, really we’d been going on one of my ‘feelings’ for the past two years. My bf had turned down, and left, well paid jobs to work as a lowly assistant chef in a restaurant, and I had no job and no clue as to how I was going to make it all come together either. Little did either of us know how much was in front of us. As I answered his frantic call to tell him we’d arrived, all I could feel was achievement, having met the goal, with no idea why.

As I headed South West towards Andratx, my final destination, I heaved another sob, and squinted into the sun as it started to drop behind the Tramuntana Mountains.

Pity the Metro wasn’t a horse, as we could have ridden into the sunset.

Where the hell am I?

I've been feeling a little under the weather recently. Not sick exactly, just not on top of my game.



Perhaps it's the sunshine. Or the enormous amount of Rosé that I seem to have to consume as soon as it gets hot.



I'm not sure. But after speaking to Tomas, my cultural correspondent for the show, I think perhaps, after all, it IS the sunshine. Tom used to live in Ireland, and hankers after the weather. I know, he needs his head examining doesn't he? All that rain.



There's a definate slump in activity as we slope towards the height of summer, and as the temperature rises you can expect a direct increase in shortened tempers and even shorter conversations.



I remember the first year that I lived in Mallorca: I watched in awe as my feet and ankles swelled whilst the temperature rose until I was immobilised by the heat. But since then it hasn't really been a problem, I like it when it gets hot. But for some reason, this year, I can't quite get it together. Amateur spiritualists have made suggestions that my moon is rising, my yang is in my yin, or I haven't feng shuied my house to the nth degree, but actually I just think I'm a bit tired. But tired of what exactly?



It's four years, last week, since I moved to Mallorca. I remember the hard work to get here, and the incredibly stressful drive through France and Spain with two hyperventilating cats, and then the overwhelming relief I felt when I finally got onto the ferry at Barcelona to make the final leg to Mallorca. It all sounds really romantic when I write it, but the actual reality is that living in Mallorca is tough. It's not all Place in the Sun and moving documentaries. Sometimes it's not much fun at all. At the moment we're all starting to worry about the economy both here and in the UK.



Estate agents can't quite bring themselves to admit that the low to mid range of properties are not moving as fast as they would like them to. Building companies are going bust left, right and centre. A plumber from the UK just bought Mallorca's football team because it had to be sold due to the insolvency of its chairman. What the hell is going on? And what should we be doing?



Have we shot ourselves in our collective feet? Did we burn too many bridges? We're committed to Mallorca, but is Mallorca committed to us?



I feel a theme of the week coming on.

Swimming Pool Safety

And now to the other topic which I have been banging on about recently.

Swimming pools - we're not so used to them, us Ingles. Come on, admit it, swimming pools, outdoor and private ones that is, are just not that common in the UK. Well, they weren't in Walthamstow when I left.

But in Mallorca, there's plenty of them around and we need to keep an eye on them - they've got great potential for fun, and also for danger. So we need to take the whole subject rather seriously I'm afraid.

The statistics stack up - 400'000 people die every year in drowning accidents. I did some research into legislation for swimming pools in Spain and they're nowhere near as stringent here as they are in France. If you own a pool in France it has to be fenced off so that little kids can't wander over and fall in unnoticed by their parents and carers. It's an EU regulation, so I don?t understand why it isn't a requirement in Spain. Perhaps someone can enlighten me.

I spoke to Becky from www.mallorcasolutions.com and she had a lot of helpful and practical advice to give:

• It is a requirement of public pools to have their depths marked and for there to be a lifeguard on duty. There should also be a first aid kit available.
• Don't let your kids wear t-shirts in the water in lieu of sun protection as they can rise up over their heads. Just keep slapping on the sunblock.
• Small children should always wear swimming nappies in the pool, if an number two accident happens then the pool should be completely drained as faeces contaminates the water

But it's not just the water, it's what's in the water too which is a problem. If you over chlorinate your pool then you could be asking for trouble. Chlorine is being bunged into swimming pools all over the island and it can aggravate asthma and skin problems in kids, and adults. Basically, you're swimming in bleach - but there are alternatives. You can try a new, kinder method using minerals, and again there seem to be EU regulations coming up which mean you will have to review your pool maintenance anyway. I spoke to Ian and John from http://www.poolsan.eu/about this and they had plenty of scary things to say about chlorine - they are suppliers of mineral based pool treatments for the island. If we're ever in the rather cosy position of having to worry about the maintenance of our swimming pool then I think I'd go for the natural and clever option rather than having blurry, stinging eyes...... it's a no brainer really.

Jellyfish - look, don't touch

We were talking about Jellyfish on the radio and I've meaning to post some information about them - so, sorry for taking so long.



They look like blobs when washed up on the beach. But in the water jellies are graceful. They range in size from about 1 inch (2 1/2 centimetres) to 200 feet (61 metres) long. They have been drifting through the world's oceans for more than 650 million years.


Jellyfish are not fish at all. They are invertebrates, relatives of corals and sea anemones. A jelly has no head, brain, heart, eyes, nor ears. It has no bones, either. To capture prey for food, jellies have a net of tentacles that contain poisonous, stinging cells. When the tentacles brush against prey thousands of tiny stinging cells explode, launching barbed stingers and poison into the victim.



Apparently, according to some people, we occasionally get stung by jellyfish because we reach out to touch them as they are so pretty. Well to me they just look incredibly creepy and I doggy paddle in the opposite direction whenever I see, or think I see, one. Yuurgh. Although I can understand why kids might find them attractive, and we do need to teach them to avoid the creatures as they can seriously hurt children.



So, if you get stung, here are some immediate steps to take:



A jellyfish fires its poison whenever its tentacles brush against an object. In humans, the poison usually causes a sharp, burning sensation that may last from minutes to hours.

• Take note of jellyfish warning signs posted on the beach.


• Be careful around jellies washed up on the sand. Some still sting if their tentacles are wet. Tentacles torn off a jelly can sting, too.


• Wash the wound in salt water, not fresh water as that could release more poison.


• Don't rub the wound or cover it with any type of fabric as it can make the jellyfish stings spread.


• You can pour ammonia, or even pee, on the wound to neutralise the sting. If you're near a first aid station or a lifeguard on the beach then they might have some ammonia. If you're close to a beach bar, just grab some vinegar. But if all else fails, just get someone to pee on you. If you're really organised you can put a bicarbonate of soda and water paste on the sting,


• See a doctor if you have an allergic reaction.

I spoke to a Marine Biologist, Shevi, from Marineland in Portals (http://www.marineland.es/) , and I'm hoping to go and meet up with her soon. She told me that Jellyfish are increasing in numbers and there are a number of potential reasons for this : the lack of predators (i.e. turtles and other creatures which would have eaten the jellyfish simply are not around in the numbers they need to be. Partly this is to do with the incredible amount of plastic bags and other rubbish floating around in the seas - the turtles, not known for their ability to recognise Tescos or Marks and Spencer bags, are eating these thinking they are jellyfish, then choking on them and dying. Nice). Also the sea temperature is rising and the jellyfish enjoy warmer temperatures. Although personally I don't agree with that as you won't catch me in the sea except in August when it finally feels like a warm bath.

This year in Mallorca so far, it's been pretty cold in the waters. But the Jellyfish are on their way, look out for the word 'medusas' as this is one of the Spanish words for the nasty creatures.

UPDATE: So far (it's now August 22nd) there has not been the jellyfish invasion that had been predicted. If I hear more, I'll tell you.

Dance Summer School

Just to let you know that Pickles Ballroom is starting their first Summer Dance School at the studio from Monday July 14th through to mid September 2008. Children aged from 5-13 are welcome from 9am-2pm, Monday to Friday. They will be covering various dance styles, from Jazz, Modern, Ballet, Ballroom to Salsa and Hip-Hop, as well as opportunities for singing, drama and performance. Alongside this, they are also offering supervised activities including softball games, arts and crafts, films and books. Their teachers are experienced and qualified; prices start at 120€ per week with substantial discounts for additional children from the same family. Lunch can be included at a small extra charge. Hourly or Daily rates are also available. Please contact Ian and Anne on 606672419 for more information or to enrol your child. In the meantime, their evening dance classes, Pilates and Mums and Tots social group all continue over the summer in their air-conditioned studio – see their website for details.

www.ballroomdancemallorca.com

Peter from the Golf Academy and a young pupil

Golf Summer School

The days at the Santa Ponsa Country club and Santa Ponsa 1 Golf course will be on a come if you wish basis.

21st July - 8th September inclusive

As of 21st July lessons will be at Santa Ponsa Golf 1 driving range every Monday at 10am untill 11am. Lessons are for any under 18 who wishes to come along.

The cost will be 15 euros per hour plus any range balls required (1 token costs 4,50 for 50 balls/1 or 2 tokens required depending on the child)

At 12 midday untill 1pm lessons will take place for younger golfers or beginners at Santa Ponsa Country Club, the cost will be 15 euros each including all equipment.


Mallorca Golf Academy are also organsing a "A day of Golf" for our young golfers.
This will entail 3 youngsters spending a day with their Professional Teacher Peter.
Pick up around 9am and transported to Golf Park Puntiro for a morning's coaching and then 18 holes of golf with the teaching professional Peter Ledwidge.

The cost of the above will be 170 euros per golfer and we must have 3 in the group.

Available dates are 18th July, 24th July and 30th July, please call to book on 971 232878 or 669 188050.

www.mallorcagolfacademy.com

¿Que?

'What's she saying?' G's Grandmother turns to me as if I am going to be able to translate my daughter's babblings. G fixes her gaze on me and launches into another stream of complete nonsense accompanied by hand gestures and deeply serious facial expressions. 'I haven't a clue' is the only reply I can give, as I truly don't know what she's on about.

I'm not exactly a baby expert you know, only having the one. So I don't really know what to expect in the way of language development. My girl was born in Mallorca, she lives in an English speaking family, with English telly, music and books, and goes to a local municipal nursery where she is taught in Castillano and Catalan, and surrounded by other little Mallorquinas and Mallorquinos who are probably also growing up with at least two languages in their heads. She's been at the nursery since she was a year old, which is almost two years ago now.

Now don't get me wrong here, I know my girl is smart and quick - her sense of humour and understanding of what I am saying to her is absolutely on the button. I very proudly explain to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen to me that my daughter will be at the very least trilingual, and I hope she learns many more languages than that along the way. But right now she's all over the place with what comes out of her own mouth.

Or is she? Perhaps it's just me not understanding a little girl's interpretation of the languages that are around her. I don't know. And that's what is frustrating me here. She is so desperate to communicate and talk to us, but most of what comes out is gibberish, to us at least. Which leads to the most almighty of tantrums and misunderstandings.

It's galling when she hangs out with our Mallorquin friends, Tomas and Consul, who quickfire Catalan at her and she nods in assent whilst we gape in incomprehension. And even worse when we're stopped in the street by a kindly, well-meaning neighbour who kicks off in Catalan again and G again enjoys a better conversation than we ever do.





Tomas

I understand why Mallorca is so adamant that its schools should teach in Catalan, I do. It's a cultural identity, one which was denied for so long by Franco. But isn't it actually going to disable its young as they grow up studying predominantly in a language which isn't spoken much outside of Catalonia (which, although of course it is the centre of the Universe, is not the centre of the Universe of educational possibilities for a bright, young thing - if they studied outside of the confines of Catalonia where Catalan is the prinicpal language, then how would they manage in Spanish, which would be their second language rather than their first? Does that disadvantage a student? Possibly).

I'm not fluent in Spanish, but I get by. I like to throw in the odd Catalan word here and there, to show willing, but really it's so different to Castillano, that I don't know when, if ever, I will truly understand it. Which leads me to my next worry..... what happens when G goes to school? How will I help her with her homework if I can't understand it either? I'm not the only immigrant parent who suffers this indignity, plenty of my girlfriends with similar aged kids are in the same situation, and we're going to have to figure out a solution before homework becomes important. Or cross our fingers that Mallorca will relax its stance on teaching mainly in Catalan and move over to the more international Castillano. I know that I am not alone in feeling that the insistence by the Balearic government for Catalan is misguided, you'd be surprised by how many local people also think it's a foolish thing to be doing.

There's a private school opening in September which is going to be teaching in English, German and Spanish...... which hits hard against my Socialist principals, and my need for my daughter to grow up in her local community. It's not an easy decision, but something we won't need to seriously think about until she's bigger. For now, she's going to the local school in the Port from September where she will learn in Catalan and Castillano and we will supplement that learning at home by teaching her to read and write in English.

When I first came to Mallorca, I considered the future which I hoped would have children in it, and it does, but I certainly didn't consider the details which all currently seem to be in Catalan.

Running with fire in Port Andratx

Fiesta frenzy - July 16th and onwards

July is an important month for my manor. Port Andratx is part of my local stomping ground, and the annual fiestas are almost upon us. The fiesta represents a major boom for the local cafes and restaurants, and if you want to attend and eat at a seafront restaurant on that night then my advice would be to book in advance to make sure you have a table.

The fiesta celebrates the Carmen - the virgin mary, and is closely connected to the sea. But this year, is there so much to give thanks for? The fishing industry in Mallorca is in crisis, fish stocks are low and fuel prices are through the roof. Nevertheless the fiesta will still take place.

In the early evening of July 16th, after Mass is heard, the figure of the Carmen is carried from the local church where she has been decorated with flowers by the wives of the local fishermen. She is paraded through the streets of the Port, down to the sea, carried by the pescadores. She is accompanied on her brief journey through the streets by a traditional band. Then she is placed on a fishing boat and goes out to sea. Once the boat has reached the mouth of the bay she is blessed by the priest. Lots of other boats go out as well, all decorated with flags and bunting, and normally skippered and crewed by groups of people who may well be on the outside of one too many G & T's. It's a bit like bumper cars, but floating as so many vessels make the short journey out.

Later in the evening there is a Carre Foc which translates as running with fire. It's advisable to wear a long sleeved top and long trousers as you literally CAN run with fire. The streets are hung with fireworks which are lit as another group parade through the town, this time dressed as dimonis (devils). Kids love to do this, and parents hate watching. It's not that dangerous as long as you keep your hair and skin covered up, honest. There's also a large fair which is along the seafront with stalls, food, and kids' attractions. I hope the fiesta brings great blessings from the Carmen, as the fishermen and their wives badly need some good news round here.

The Fiesta of the Carmen marks the highest point of the summer season for Port Andratx. From this point on, 'til the beginning of September, all of the bars are normally full to bursting in the evenings as it gets hotter and hotter and no one can sleep.

The next big fiesta round here is then the S'Arraco shindig which stretches over the course of three weekends in August. Free music and parties every weekend in the plaza in S'Arraco, and no sleep 'til breakfast.

Can you hear me?

Incredibly I find myself in the position of having my own radio show! I know, how on earth did that happen? I'm on the radio every weekday from 4 til 6 (gmt +1) and I'm trying to make the show interesting and relevant to the listeners - i kind of imagine that i am talking to myself - i.e. a 30 something worker who's still in the 'how did i get here?' phase of moving to Mallorca. I also do the hits and headlines game which is real fun, i've got lots of people listening and participating which is a thrill.

In the first week i covered mosquitoes, and last week sun protection - which is why I've posted information about both of those topics in my blog as it is linked to the radio website www.lunamallorca.com So I'll keep posting those interspersed into my other blog writings. The next one is going to be about jellyfish (urrgh).

If you want to listen to me and send me messages online you can do so via the radio website which has a listen online facility. Or if you're in the area then you can tune in on 100.3fm.

Pretending to be grown ups

Our garden, more like a wildnerness right now.......


We've got a plum tree in the garden and a fence and a garden wall that are not really all that secure (Tinta has proved that fact at least five times a day whilst breaking for the border with her short lover).

The plums are ripe, unfortunately none of us are all that keen on eating them, so I came over all motherly the other day and actually attempted to make chutney. O in the meantime came over all fatherly and attempted to make the garden boundaries stronger. Neither of us were all that successful.

It was one of those beautiful, tranquil Sundays that we both long for - conveniently forgetting about the huge pile of paperwork and other stuff that needed to be done, we pottered agreeably with our chosen projects. The first hour went well. I collected plums and O tackled the wall, having decided that it was to blame for the dodgy fence. Our projects began to fall apart when he couldn't find the right tools and I couldn't be bothered to find a recipe for chutney. But nevertheless we laboured on happily, G playing inside and bimbling around.

It got hotter, and hotter, and our tempers began to fray: O made cement to stick the blocks together whilst I improvised with spices, sugar, a huge amount of plums and no pectin. I'd tethered Tinta up inside the house so that we could move freely from the garden into the house and back again without worrying about her escaping for yet another tryst with Romeo (who has now been camping outside of our doorstep for over a week). She took the situation well, having a nap on her bed and not making much of a fuss. I was feeling quite pleased with her until I went to check her and realised that she had disappeared - Houdini in dog form continues. O hadn't noticed her doing a runner either and we had to hunt her down. She was skipping up and down the main road of our village with her tail straight up in the air, an air of triumph about her. Once we'd caught her she was banished upstairs, behind the baby gate at the top where she whimpered and moaned. Chutney making and wall repairing continued with an air of determination - we WOULD achieve what we'd set out to do.

It was with uncanny synchronisation that we both realised the same thing - the stuff we were making just wasn't quite sticky enough. O gazed glumly at his ineffective wall, whilst I did the same with my very runny chutney.

Perhaps we weren't cut out for this DIY lark after all. So after a bit of a grumpy moment we opened a bottle of wine, settled on the sofa with G, and watched the tennis instead. Rafa Nadal won, so it was a perfect Sunday after all.

..................

The chutney tastes pretty good, although you need to eat it with a spoon, and the wall is holding up, a fine example of bodge it building: O keeps threatening to go out one evening and actually make it look better, but in the meantime we have finally found a way of keeping Tinta in the garden - we've unearthed a metal gate which fits more or less into the corner of the L shape of the backyard - she is safe, we are more relaxed, Romeo is thwarted. But there will have to be a trip to the vet after she's finished her season for a pregnancy test, and we'll go from there.... I don't think I can handle anymore parenting than I am already doing, especially if it involves puppies or chutney.

Here comes the sun

It's hot here now, and with that generally comes either buckets of sunscreen or aching sunburn. If you don't fancy either then we'll see you in October.

It's a serious problem in Mallorca. A local dermatologist has seen 10 cases of melanoma in the past month. But is anyone taking it seriously yet?

It's pretty simple stuff really to protect yourself from the sun. Buy some sunblock, apply. Continue to apply. Put on some more. Repeat.

How do you know when to apply though? Firstly, put it on before you leave the house, about 20 to 30 mins before you're off out. And then once you've been in the sun for about 30 mins, put the block on again. Then you need to go by the SPF factor on the bottle. SPF means Sun Protection Factor - the World Health Organisation, and other similar organisations, say that the maximum amount of time we can spend outside in the sun without protection is 10 minutes. The SPF means that you can stay in the sun for 10 minutes times the SPF level - so if you've got SPF 15 that means you can stay in the sun for 10 x 15 = 150 mins, or 2 1/2 hours. Then you need to bung more of the goo on, or go indoors. Honest it's as simple as that.

Make sure you take particular care on your face, your chest, and your hands as these areas are all vulnerable to the sun and are age quickly. Also, don't spray perfume onto your chest as it acts as a magnifying glass for the sun and can mean you burn there even more - spray perfume onto an area which is not necessarily exposed to the sun, like your tummy for example if you're going to be wearing a top for the day.

Keeping on top of your kids' sun protection is vital - a serious sun burn before the age of 18 can increase the risks of skin cancer by 50%. That's pretty serious. We slather our daughter (who is blond, blue eyed and very fair) in very high factor sunblock - 60SPF when she goes to nursery school as we can't expect the staff to remember to reapply it in the morning so she has 600 minutes of protection with that factor (that's 10 hours as long as she doesn't go swimming). When she's at the beach we use a lower factor and keep reapplying as she is in and out of the water. We are also running a 'hats are cool' campaign in our house to try to encourage her to cover her head and face more. Not an easy call with a 2 1/2 year old I can tell you.

The dermatologist, Dr Cordula Ahnhudt, recommends that we all go for yearly skin checks as this way you can keep an eye on the development of any moles.

You can contact her on http://www.myskin-bendinat.com
Phone:+ 34 971 700 777
Email: info@myskin-bendinat.com

¡Campeones!

It's fiesta time round where we live.

Spain likes a fiesta, and Mallorca can boast fiestas every week of the year - somewhere on this island there's someone having a party or celebrating something, normally with the back up of a giant paella and a lot of San Miguel. Occasionally fiestas do go on where actual contemplation of some religious meaning is attached, but they don't tend to happen much around where we live, which may be WHY we live where we live - but, honestly, it wasn't a conscious decision.

So we've been doing the Andratx fiesta scene this weekend - San Pere, the patron saint of Andratx, and many other parts of the island as well. It's been a blast. I love a good fiesta.

I wish that I wasn't about to make this comparison, as I want the UK and in particular, London, to get over itself and start being nice to each other again, but there is no need for the coppers at a fiesta in Mallorca. Perhaps Notting Hill Carnival, where you do occasionally see a rozzer dancing with a Carnival participant, could lead the way in this most necessary revolution. Perhaps this year there will be no knife crime, no arrests, no muggings or any of the other unpleasant and anti-social goings on that seem to happen year after year in London when more than 3 people get together..... I live in hope, as I want everyone to have the same kind of experience I had last evening, watching Spain whoop Germany's ass (sorry mum, but there really is no other way of expressing that one) whilst surrounded by a couple of thousand happy locals who all behaved themselves, impeccably.

I remember taking my goddaughter Chloe to the Notting Hill Carnival many moons ago, and regretting it. It was not a suitable place to take a small child. It was cramped, it was scary, and it felt as if she shouldn't have been there, as if her name wasn't on the guest list - even though the carnival was on during the day. She would have been about the same age as G, who last night had the time of her life.

I made sure that my little one had a proper siesta yesterday afternoon, to prepare her for the longish evening we were planning on indulging in. We didn't have a real plan, we just wanted to watch the 2008 European Championships in a big crowd and join in with the local fiesta. We parked strategically to allow for a swift exit if it all went pear shaped with the toddler, but we needn't have bothered. When we arrived in the plaza we were immediately greeted by at least ten different people that we knew, what a fantastic way to start a party. G got stuck into exploring the plaza and checking out the punters, she was wearing her new most favourite dress which her Grandmother had sent her over, and was swinging her skirt around, showing anyone who would look.

The atmosphere in the square was..... tense, but benevolent. All of the bars were crammed as it was still too light to see the game on the big screens that had been put up. Harassed waiters were sweating cobs as they tried to keep up with the demands of their customers. Outside in the plaza a very dramatic man made a mediocre fideua (a kind of pasta paella) and yelled at anyone who stood between him and his personal tv screen set up by the side of the stage. Then it started to get dark and everyone streamed out of the bars and into the plaza. Spain played brilliantly against a side which didn't put up much of a fight (the Germans had probably realised that it should really have been the Turks in the final, as did the rest of the world) and Spain romped to victory. Not that I saw the second half of the game as G had discovered the other part of the fiesta by then....... the kiddy part. There were a few rides to choose from all stationed (very inconveniently) on the main street of the town - hindering and irritating road users for the past four days. There was an extremely scary bouncy castle featuring Bart Simpson, and a set of trampolines dominated by some very energetic 11 (or so) year olds, and a 'soft play area'. I convinced G that her only option was the soft play thing and sent her packing into the caged confines of pvc rollers, slides and plenty of multicoloured balls. I didn't see her again for 40 minutes. She had a great time exploring, it was the first time that she'd ever been on or in one of those things, and I kept up to date with the score via my trusty and invaluable Blackberry.

But you didn't need to own a Blackberry to know when Spain finally clinched the title after 44 years. Fireworks and roaring confirmed the fact. It was a bizarre moment for me, watching my daughter conquer a slide whilst Spain took possession of a title it so definately deserved.

When we made it back into the plaza, once she had finally bored of the balls, Spain were the winners. The atmosphere in the square was joyous, but not boisterous, and not scary. There weren't hoardes of people running around being drunk and out of control, but instead there were groups of very proud Spaniards waving flags and singing.

And then the fiesta continued, a dance troupe performed the sevillanas which is flamenco, with spots. The spots come from the traditional dress that they wear which comes from Andalucia, which is a long way from Mallorca. It was the first time that G had seen this type of dancing and she insisted on watching all 40 minutes of it - standing at the front of the stage and clapping along at any opportunity. Around her circled happy football fans, happy fiesta goers, proud parents of the dance troupe, and local politicians. G stood like a rock in a benign maelstrom, unmoved except by the spectacle in front of her. The music was beat lead, passionate, emotional and the dancing was expertly performed by kids probably ten years older than her. We couldn't (and I wouldn't have) got her away until the last dance was over and she realised that the dancing was over. By the time we got home, a whole five minutes drive along a winding country road, she was asleep.

When I woke G up this morning the first thing she said to me was ´Good Morning Mummy' and the second thing she said was 'Good Morning The Dancing'.

I have a feeling my daughter is going to be a dancer.

Lock up your daughters

Tinta and Herbie celebrating St Antoni Fiesta of the Animals, Jan 2008

This blog is developing into a bit of an ode to dogs, but really, I promise after this post, I'll change the subject.

Tinta, the dachshund we've had since the beginning of the year, is all woman, if you know what I mean. We've not really been that bothered about that, until now that is. When we took her on my first question was to Riccardo, our friendly vet : when can I get her speyed? I'm not keen on adding to the dog population in Mallorca, there's already too many abandoned animals who haven't got a good home, and anymore just adds a burden. As we didn't know much about Tint, Riccardo told me that we would have to wait until she came into season before he could plan for her operation. Having never had a girl dog before I wasn't sure when she may come into season, or even if I would know what the signs were when she did. Well believe me, I know now.

She's gone all tranquilo on us, as if she's had pmt for the last six months and now, finally she's got some relief. There's no nastiness (I was half expecting to have to find a doggy tampon or whatever they use) instead she's very happy and very relaxed. Nowhere near the normal amount of nonsense or attempts to escape. Bliss. That is until we caught on to what was actually happenning. She's become the Angelina Jolie of the dog world - she is (apparently) sex on legs, at least to the local dog population.

There's been a very keen, indeed dogged (excuse the pun) little fella sitting outside our front door for the past four days. I can't believe his dedication as day in and day out he's been there, looking hopefully at us whenever we went in or came out of our house. I think we've both felt a little sorry for him, and gave him some water to ease the heat of the day (it's about 80 degrees here now) but not as sorry for him as our neighbours who mistakenly fed him on day two when we might have been able to convince him to go home. But no, he's a gentleman of the road, and seems very comfortable hanging out and waiting for his Juliet to appear. Which she has, on a couple of occasions.

Tinta's admirer

It's quite sweet seeing them skipping down the road together, tails wagging and all in love with each other. (O says he has the song by Renee and Renata in his head, do you know the one 'save your love my darling, save your love' ?; whilst I have 'Young hearts run free' from the incomparable Candi Statton). But this Ahhhh moment is over in seconds as we collectively realise what may happen and swoop in to scoop up our errant virgin (at least I hope she's still a virgin). O and I even toyed with the idea of letting her boyfriend into the house (he keeps asking) for about a minute and then saw the error of our ways - we know how difficult it is to raise one child, let alone 8 of someone elses. He is a handsome little guy though, like the boy version of Tint, she is short you know, so it would be hard to find a decent boyfriend......

But it is a little eerie, we're being stalked. Our house is being staked out. Whenever one of us arrives home, he's there. When we look out of our windows, he's there, waving his tail at us. We can't even open the front door without a reception committee - normally it's only when we come into the house, not leave it.

I'm just going to check if he's still there........ Yup, he's still there. Keeping the doorstep warm. Apparently girl dogs stay in season for about a week, so we only have another 3 days of house arrest before Tint stops smelling like Chanel for perro and we can all get back to normal.

Bugtastic

What exactly is the point of mosquitoes? I wonder this every year at this sort of time. We've all been getting along fine without them, then bingo, the little swines (or should that be, whines) pitch up and make my life a living hell. I hate them, they love me.

I wish I could give you the definative answer as to how to get rid of them. But I can't. Instead I can only apply as many repellants as possible and hope that they work. So far I have tried all of the nasty smelly repellants that you can buy in the chemists (not a good fragrance for romance, believe me, and they taste even worse); we've got plug ins all over the house as well - not much use either in such a big house, and I am chugging down the garlic like it's going out of business. I've found a natural repellant which smells like a spicy perfume, but uses loads of different essential oils, this at least seems to be waylaying the bugs until i can get the long trousers on.

(http://www.gaia-natural.com/).

Perhaps I should pray, or hum, or radiate good light or something, I simply don't understand why they find me so attractive, especially when O seems to be completely oblivious to them.

So I instead I am concentrating on not itching - cold Aloe Vera and a strong will.

But actually I shouldn't be worrying or indeed complaining about the mossies, as at least they can't leave me with a lifelong disease. Which is what a mosquito bite can do to a dog, my dogs. I spoke to Riccardo, a local vet (http://www.clinicaveterinariapaguera.es/) who told me about Leishmania - it's a disease which dogs can contract after being bitten by an infected mosquito. The best treatment is to prevent them being attractive to mossies - by making sure they wear repellant collars, and bunging on those repellant drops you can get from the vets. It's quite a serious disease, and is lifelong once the animal has it, so it's well worth making sure that you're giving your faithful friends a fighting chance. It's a shock to realise that they are at risk here, and there are a couple of other nasty things as well which I'll write about when the time is right.

WHAT IS LEISHMANIASIS?
It is a disease that affects mainly dogs (and occasionally cats). It is transmitted by a blood sucking insect, mistakenly called a ‘sand fly’, but scientifically known as Phlebotomous perniciousus, and in Spain known as `` la enfermedad del mosquito.´´

Not all the Phlebotomes transmit leishmaniasis. It is also a misconception that our pets are at higher risk of encountering the disease on beaches! Areas with high humidity and thick vegetation are the ideal breeding spots for the phlebotomes, i.e. swampy areas and marsh lands. Unfortunately Mallorca is one of the areas in Spain with the highest prevalence of Leishmaniasis.

HOW DOES MY PET GET INFECTED?
For a dog to contract the disease it is necessary for the insect to bite them, and through the saliva at the bite site infect the dog with one of the larval stages of the leishmaniasis. Once in the blood stream the larvae finally develop a parasite that lives in the blood stream and replicates in organs such as the liver, bone marrow and lymph nodes. Unfortunately during its life cycle the parasite affects both liver and kidney function and in the long term it will inevitably cause death if left untreated. Clinical signs to look out for are: Skin ulcers, hair loss around eyes and dandruff, abnormal growth of nails, weight loss and lethargy.


WHAT CAN WE DO?
Treatment is available to improve the quality of life of our beloved pets, but unfortunately it is not a cure, once infected it is for life. The treatment helps control the number of parasites in the blood stream, keeping them at a minimum hence not affecting the organs in such a way to be life threatening. The sooner the disease is diagnosed and treated the higher the rate of survival and better recovery of our pets. At Clinica Veterinaria Paguera we recomend an annual blood test to make sure that our patients have not been exposed to the disease, and if in the unfortunate case that they test positive we recomend treatment to control the possible development of the disease.

WHY IS IT ON THE INCREASE?
In past years, when the seasons were well established it was largely acknowledged that leishmania season started in early spring when temperatures rose, and humidity increased thus creating the favourable conditions for the phlebotomes to develop and live and then peak at the end of summer. But Planet Earth has been suffering global climatic changes, and we now cannot see clear divisions of seasons. We seem to now undergo a longer spring, short summer, longer autumn and milder winters, therefore prolonging the life cycle of phlebotomes hence making leishmania season longer! Until recently we would have recomended leishmania protection from early spring i.e. April/May until late October, but we now strongly recomend that you protect your pets for a longer period depending on the temperature and humidity.

Prevention although never guaranteed at 100% is always better than having to cure.

Your local veterinarian will be able to offer advice and guidance for prevention, diagnosis and if necessary treatment.


For further information, contact your local vet or
Clinica Veterinaria Paguera – Consultorio Veterinario Andratx
Riccardo Giglioli, Veterinary Surgeon L.V. MRCVS
Tel.: 971 689 525
SOS: 607 373 135
E-mail: info@pagueravet.e.telefonica.net
Web: http://www.clinicaveterinariapaguera.com/

¿dónde están los perros?

The dogs have gone awol. It's past 23.00 and O is out looking for the little buggers. They've disappeared, off piste goat hunting, in the mountains.

He walks them every evening whilst I'm putting G to bed and reading (for the nnth time) The Tiger Who Came To Tea. Whilst I am convincing G it really IS time to go to sleep, O is yomping across the mountains which lie in a horseshoe around us whilst the dogs harass wild goats and make themselves unpopular with the locals. Animal ownership in Mallorca is a strange paradox. The Spanish don't have the greatest image of animal care, but they are big fans of the dog. Oddly there is a tendency to own a dog which is kept at a finca in the countryside, frequently tied up which is a sad practice. It's peculiar because there is even an annual fiesta (St Antoni) where they celebrate animals, the dogs are taken off their chains for the day and brought into the towns where they are blessed with holy water, sprinkled over them by a priest.




We have two dogs, a Breton Spaniel, and a Dachshund. The Breton is viewed appreciatively by the hunting, shooting, fishing elements of our village - he's a big boy for his breed, and the breed is popular locally for its usefulness in those outdoor pursuits. The Dachshund is tolerated, but only just. She's a bit feisty and a bit naughty, and just a little too keen on escaping out of our garden and running up and down the road barking at people walking, or indeed cars driving, past the house.



We found the Breton in a finca when he was about 6 weeks old. We were there for a party and as guests of the owners of the finca were required to do a tour of their outhouses which were home to a variety of farm animals, including goats, sheep and pigs. When we reached the pigsty where two enormous Black Pigs were snorting and snuffling around we were initially delighted to see a piglet, but on closer inspection realised that it wasn't a piglet, but a puppy. The puppy had mistakenly found itself on the wrong side of the pigsty and we wondered aloud what would happen to it if we left it inside the pighouse.... didn't pigs pretty much eat anything that got in their way? The puppy was swiftly removed from the sty and took up residence on the inside of my coat where he stayed. We didn't mean to get a dog, but ended up taking him home with us....




A couple of years on and we (or I should say I) found ourselves in the position of having a garden and only the one dog to make a complete mess of it. So speed up the process we (or rather, I) decided that a second, smaller dog would be a great idea, to keep the Breton company. Wrong wrong wrong. She's a complete nightmare. You can't leave anything out in the kitchen as she leaps onto worktops to devour the leftovers, or even the beginnings, of a meal, she is Houdini returned in the shape of a dog and she loves loves loves to chase goats. So that is why O is out right now looking for them..... we haven't seen them since 20.30. That's three hours ago, and no sign of them, or O..... I'm idlly wondering what's happenned to them as I chug through a copa de vino.


A glass of wine later and he is back, swearing. The dogs aren't with him. And he's adamant he's not going back out to look for them again. So off I am going with my special dog whistle, my fingers crossed, and my jungle strength mosquito repellant on.

Post update: 12.48am Home, with two dogs who look rather pleased with themselves. I am covered in mozzie bites and there's no wine left in the bottle, and no chocolate anywhere in the house. Oh the joys of dog ownership.

I like driving in my car

Living in London you don’t necessarily ever get used to commuting, but certainly you would expect to be travelling for about an hour each way to get to and from work.

And most of that would be at less than 5mph, sitting in the car, watching other motorists picking their noses, applying make up, and talking on their mobiles. So, given that we could drive from our house to Palma in about 20 minutes, when we first arrived in Mallorca we felt as if we’d come to an island where traffic jams didn’t exist. Our evenings out were often in spent in the city, but encouraging other people to join us wasn’t so easy. ‘Palma’s too far, why don’t we go somewhere closer?’ was a frequent response to our invitation for a meal out in the old town. Baffled by this attitude we would try to argue the point, repeating again how quickly we would be there, but oftimes to no avail.

But we did agree that the Mallorquin attitude towards roundabouts was just a bit too scary. Without the common agreement of driving on the inside lane until you needed to leave at the next exit I felt like yelling ‘BUNDLE!’ everytime I hit a roundabout. (And mentally make a promise to myself to look up the Spanish motoring laws to see if the habit of driving around the outside lane and cutting up other cars was actually taught to the novice drivers on the island). And then, thankfully, I’d make it unscathed through yet another game of chicken with a beaten up Axim. Soon we discovered the practice, or perhaps that should be non-practice, of indicating. It seemed to be a sign of weakness, by indicating what you were planning on doing seemed to give an advantage to your roundabout opponent.

There were also the legalities to be mindful of, keeping the right papers in the car, and having all those bits and pieces you’re supposed to use in case of a breakdown. But, living in the kind of disorganised chaos that we do, I doubt that I have ever had all of the right bits of paper in the car at the same time. Which was a bit of a problem when I was recently pulled over by the local police, strangely, at a roundabout in Palma. ‘Where are you going?’, ‘Where do you live?’ ‘Where is your job?’ and then, the question I was dreading, ‘Where are your papers?’. I managed to find the insurance documents, the log book, and my residency card, but not my driving license. Thank god the ITV certificate is physically stuck to the inside of the windscreen as if not then I would have been in even more trouble. Wondering how much the fine might cost me, I smiled uncertainly at the copper. Wearing a helmet it was difficult to see if he was smiling back. ‘I’m really sorry, I haven’t got a clue where they are’ I covered, hoping for some sympathy and going for the ‘hopeless woman’ image. Which seemed to work. ‘I live in Andratx, next time I see you I want you to have the papers,’ he told me. I asked him what his name was, Victor, promised to do as he asked me (although mentally picturing the cardboard box full of paperwork I had got in the neverending ‘to do’ pile and hoping I might find it in there) and went on my way. It’s an odd state of pressure when your local policeman knows where you live, and is expecting you to sort something out and pronto. I don’t want to let him down.

Until I’ve found my driving license, when we’re invited to eat in Palma, I might just baulk and suggest somewhere a little bit closer….


You should keep the following items in your car:
Valid driving licence; residence Card, passport or European Citizen certificate; ehicle registration document;ITV, or MOT inspection certificate; proof of current vehicle insurance. A yellow, orange or red reflective jacket which you should be able to reach without getting out of the car; two red warning triangles; spare light bulbs and the tools required to fit them; a spare tyre, inflated and the tools necessary to change it; approved child seats for children under 12 and/or 150cm, and if you need corrective glasses for driving you must keep a spare pair in the car.

On the radio

Crikey, how did that happen. I'm the presenter of a radio show!

It was strange not to be on the school run, picking up G from her Guarderia, so I hope she gets it when she hears my voice on the radio.

You can hear me every weekday from 16 to 18.00h on www.lunamallorca.com or if you're in Mallorca you can listen on 100.3fm. Today I kicked off as I mean to go on, with a variety of subjects, from Lily Allen's disasterous hairdo (she should go get it sorted out at one of the excellent hairdressers we have hear on the island) to how awful mosquitoes are and how to get rid of them (I spoke to Trudi who makes her own natural mosquito spray and sells it at her shop in Palma where you can also get handmade soaps and creams, made entirely on Mallorca and with local ingredients - visit Calle Corderia 29, in Palma de Mallorca. If you're up on your Facebook thingimijig then you can join the Gaia Bathtime Group which is at http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=9416159855 .

Tomas, my cultural correspondent (actually he's my mate and we've known each other for ages!), and I talked about the fiesta San Juan and the upcoming fiesta San Pedro which happens at the end of this week. Both of which involve running with fire - the Carre Foc - so have a good time at those, but remember to keep your hair and skin covered when you do it, unless you want to smell like burnt dog!

From 17 to 18.00h i played my first round of Hits and Headlines - well done to Geordie Graeme and Fifille who were the only people to get the year right - 1996! Tomorrow we'll do it all again.

Tomorrow, or possibly Wednesday you'll get the chance to hear an interview with the fabulous Michele McCain - you can check her out http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YVrsv9bo4W4 on You Tube and on her site http://www.michelemccain.com/ . She will be playing for free on Thursday night at 21.30h at an open air concert in the Plaça de l'Artesania (Passeig per l'Artesania) in Palma.