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If the orange earth under our feet were the sea, our house would have headed for port a long time ago. A bride leaving Órgiva’s church would be in tears (or hopefully laughing); her hair in tatters, her bouquet ruined. The lights flicker; banshee-wailing winds have come with a vengeance. The outside area has been rearranged, … Continue reading
Time for another ‘Then and Now‘ but, truth be told, it’s not Órgiva but Pampaneira up the mountain. We tried hard to persuade the occupants of a house opposite – in the footprint of the original photographer’s boots – to demolish their home so we could get a proper shot. They didn’t want to know so we … Continue reading
It’s sometimes starless here, sometimes bible black; and on those still nights you could hear an olive drop. At the new moon – as it is today, 20 January 2015 – the valley’s dogs will know it’s time to settle down on this dark night. Our knowledge of ‘country life’ – in Ireland, England and … Continue reading
On a clear day you can see forever – just not today. While the UK faced its coldest night of the winter so far, here we experienced our first Spanish snow. Not exactly crisp underfoot – more soft and a bit sludgy – we still had to take care on the road leading into Bubión, one of … Continue reading
To Lanjarón in search of a damn fine cup of coffee – and we found it. Having lived in London where the choice of coffee establishments – from the old, formica-tabled cafés of Soho to the muffins and chrome of Costa – can be overwhelming, here it’s easier to plonk yourself down with a cortado and … Continue reading
A while back, the internal courtyard next to Órgiva’s fishmongers was suddenly emptied of cats. After buying some gambas we’d always take a peak at the throng of moggies behind the glass – a bit like Clarice Starling approaching Hannibal Lecter in his cell – only with lots of miaowing instead of the sucking of teeth. … Continue reading
We awoke early and headed to a friend’s olive grove, the oxalis – yet to show its yellow flowers – was crisp underfoot in the cold air. Two gigantic nets were laid beneath the first tree and off we went, agitating each branch with bamboo sticks to remove the olives. Hitting and shaking the branches resulted … Continue reading
con jamón spain 