Yippee

Wahay! I won the On the Premises mini contest for stories of 10 - 20 words. My entry should be on their website by Monday.

My son was saying that this was good, but obviously it didn't make me a VIP. We agreed that I'm now a SIP - a slightly important person. Or even a SIM - slightly important mother.

It's not exactly the Booker Prize, but something about the words "First Prize" has got me puffing my chest out and grinning like a crocodile.

The Kings

Father Christmas has been visiting Spain for a few years now, but Spanish children still get the bulk of their presents on January 6th, when the three kings visit baby Jesus. They also come through most Spanish towns the evening before, and we went to see them in Santa Cruz de la Palma. Well, we saw the begining of it. The whole procession takes hours.
They start at the post office, then when they get to teh Plaza España, they have a conversation, find they're all off to visit the same baby, and decide to travel on together. Then at the Plaza Alemeda, they find King Herod's court, and have a converation with him. Of course he says he wants to see the baby too, and asks them to come back and tell him where they find the baby. Then they carry on to the ravine outside town, and find Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus in a cave. Luckily for us, you get a great view of the inside of the cave from down on the road. The kings give their presents, and then an angel above the cave warns them not to go back to Herod because he means the baby no good at all.
And then they light the bonfire and set off the fireworks. And the shops stay open until about 1 am for people who like to leave present shopping until the last minute.
I got an iron.
I'm not as upset as I might be, because a) it's a very good iron, and it might even allow me to get the wretched ironing done and out of the way faster, and b) Father Christmas very kindly brought me a scanner than will take negatives and slides and c) I plan to treat myself to a good digital camera in the sales.

Happy New Year

We saw the new year in with the extended faimly. The photo is my son, going mad with what the Spanish call "mother-in-law killers".
They always have fireworks here at New Year. We weren't very close to any displays, but the house is built on the side of a hill, and we could see lots of displays from a distance: La Polvacera, San António, Zumacal, Santa Cruz, Concepción, Palmasol, and San José.
Fortunately we live almost next door, so nobody had to drive. Consequently I spent most of New Year's Day recovering. But it was well worth it.

Inocente, inocente

No, that's not a spelling mistake, it's Spanish. December 28th is Holy Innocents' Day, when the Catholic church remembers the babies slaughtered by King Herod. There's a long tradition of pulling people's legs, much like April Fool's Day in England.

I forgot all about it, until my friend's kid mentioned it in the evening. So when I went home, I decided to tease my husband, Carlos.

He's 51, but looks much, much younger because he looks after himself. He doesn't smoke, eats plenty of vegetables, and he runs for an hour almost every morning before breakfast. He's tall and slim to start off with, and the sight of those long legs in short shorts cheers me up in the mornings. Several female acquaintances have mentioned that they see him on his morning run, and judging by the little smile as they say it, he cheers them up too.

Back to Holy Innocents' Day. When I got home that evening, I told my husband that the Local Police had been around earlier. Apparently they'd had complaints about somebody jogging "practically naked" in the mornings and they'd heard it might be Carlos. I'd told them that my husband did go jogging, but certainly not naked. "You do keep your shorts on, don't you? Tell me you keep your shorts on!" Anyway, they wanted to talk to Carlos themselves, so they'd be coming back on Friday at about 7pm, and plase would he make sure he'd be at home. The whole thing had been rather embarassing, and I'd like to get it over with.

I listened to myself with growing amazement, firstly that I was spinning this pile of tripe with so little effort or guilt, and secondly that Carlos was swallowing it whole. I suppose the first thing had a lot to do with the second. That and the fact that Carlos a) had completely forgotten the date, b) was tirede and had a heavy cold and c) knows that I don't do this sort of thing because I can't. Honestly I can't. I can write write it, but not speak it, because it takes several drafts. And there I was spewing it out, curious to find out what I was going to come out with next. It was the weirdest sensation.

Thinking it over, I suspect it worked precisely because I was so relaxed. I had nothing to loose, so I just let my creative subconcious get on with it.

Eventually I got the giggles, followed a second later by Julio. Julio had listened to the whole thing, wide eyed. Then, of course, Carlos realised I was having him on.

King Kong

This is my son, Julio, with two of his Christmas presents, karate clothes (he's been doing karate for three months) and enormous King Kong gloves.

In Spain the big party is Christmas Eve, and we went next-door-but-one to my brother-in-law and family. We had a nice meal and chatted until midnight when we found that Father Christmas had left presents under the tree for us. Julio got a microscope, my husband got a miniature set of drums to play with his fingers, and I got a book called "What Howls at the Moon in Frilly Knickers?" We came home at about 1:30, and it was a good thing noobody had to drive.

So I wasn't going to get up at the crack of dawn to put a whole turkey in the oven just for the three of us. We had turkey roll and half the trimmings for dinner. Of course that was after the rest of the presents. But he best bit was actually spending the day together without rushing around.