Get Me Out Of Here

Getting a bit complacent

With so much work being done on the boat this month, and TT being in dry dock here at the marina for a few days. I’ve gotten a bit lazy when it comes to cleaning round the place…

Perhaps it’s just an excuse, while she’s out the water, there’s no work needs doing inside at all. However workmen and dirty boots will still have to go in, because there’s a couple of seals need replacing from where the water comes out of the sink, and out of the washer. (Meeting and protecting the steel). There’s nothing to see with the naked eye both inside and out, but Dave reckons they need doing. So I’ll have to clean up the boot prints later. From the resident “boat cleaner’s” point of view, it’s not a pretty sight when that happens…

However, the guys from Aqua make a great team, we know them, they know the score, and it’s a case of “whatever it takes” for us. Messy footprints aren’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. So why do I still feel guilty about not making the taps shine, or removing that humungous spider from the front screen, when the screen itself is going to be replaced?

I’m so crazy about this I can see myself running round on the last minute cleaning up the place just for the workmen…

Give me sand on a patio to wash down with a hosepipe whilst stood in the sun please… Oh the joy!! No hang on, that’s a job we’ll reserve for our son and daughter in law when they come to visit us at “our Casa” in August. {Hosepipes at dawn, he he he…}

In theory, one could have several separate hosepipes going at the same time. Three story’s high, three terraces outside, another off the second story bedroom and another on the roof terrace. Potential for mayhem? Yes. What a laugh we’ll have, hosepipes or not.

When we first moved in, we thought we’d have to retain a level of decorum. Mainly because our seemingly sophisticated neighbours from all over the world might’ve thought were sophisticated Brits. (No, really!) It’s much further south than bums and tits Benidorm, with not a high rise building in sight…

To be honest, when we met the neighbours, it was obvious from the start, (wherever we’re from), we all have the same sense of humour. You don’t have to pretend to be special, Spain is just too laid back for snobby body’s wherever they come from. So we might be sophisticated now, but we’re also a couple of daft buggers, who fit in nicely…

The sentence “on the same wavelength” rings so true.

I asked our son Neil on Farcebook if they knew the address they’re going to??? Answer: “Oh my god, never thought of that!” {No worries we’re booking an airport transfer for them} We simply haven’t got round to letting people know our actual address yet, because there’s been no need! OK, OK, the truth? It’s that long neither of us can remember the whole thing. But we’ve got it written down (several times) hidden amidst layers of paperwork.

Which reminds me, the couple we bought the house off very kindly put together a folder for us with details, and instruction manuals of how all the high tech wonders work. I kid ye not, it’s about six inches high and has come in very handy. (Even the fridge freezer with a brain of its own has touch screen buttons to press occasionally, depending on human preferences). Which come to think of it might not be correct anyway…

So there the folder was, sat on the side, along with a bottle of champagne and a lovely welcome card when we moved in. {Made me cry, we’d met them a few times, and they really didn’t want to go back to the UK. But for personal reasons had to}

We left the “six incher” at the house, and came back to Blighty with another folder the same size! Full of Spanish legal documents (and secondarily translated to English) for the sale itself. It all has to be here in the UK with us, in case we want to contact our solicitor in Spain and vice versa.

We’ll do the “former” kind of folder thing for whoever buys the boat, in fact we already have. Except we haven’t bought a bottle of bubbly yet…

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