Living in Spain, warts and all

Strong words representing extreme emotions!

It could be something to do with tiredness, or maybe the accumulated stress of dealing with the ayuntamiento, or possibly just downright cranky middle age that seemingly makes me more extreme in my response to things these days. I react to stimuli across the whole spectrum now with more intensity – be it rage, warmth, dislike, tears, gratitude, offence or hysterical laughter. And sometimes a combination of several at once.

I have just spent three hours in the microcosm of the car, delivering John back to Alicante airport and into the open jaws of another plane that will whisk him away from his home and from me. During the return leg of the journey, which I undertake on autopilot and with no after-memory whatsoever of the space between here and there, I actually caught myself contemplating a number of small and generally insignificant things with unneccesary passion, with overreaction. I shall share a handful of them with you.

1) As I squirmed in the driver’s seat, trying unsuccessfully to relieve an extremely uncomfortable and annoying scratchiness somewhere between my left armpit and waist level, I came to conclusion that I utterly detest with a vengeance all clothing manufacturers who have decided, in their collective wisdom, that it is imperative to sew oversized labels into clothing at delicate pressure points with barbed wire.

2) I realised that there is nothing funnier than when, in the car pulled up next to you at lights, the grotty snotty kid looking at you insolently and chewing bubble gum in an extremely unattractive way with full tonsil demonstration, blows such an enormous bubble that atmospheric pressure defeats it and he ends up wearing a full face condom as you drive off, crying with mirth.

3) I experienced that immense and uplifting feeling of “YES!!” when the car with those awful ‘blind-every-other-road-user” xenon headlights tried to climb into my boot as I was passing other cars on the motorway at a sedate 120kph (ie: the maximum speed limit), almost clipped my rear offside bumper in his haste to pass me as I pulled back into the inside lane, and then had to stand on his brakes because someone else pulled out in front of him. Especially as he was driving a BMW.

4) As I was driving along singing at the top of my lungs to my iPOD on ‘shuffle’, ignoring all the pitying looks from other drivers who obviously thought that I had chewed through the straps and escaped, it amazed me that I still have the capacity every time to shed tears at the very same tracks even though I may have heard them a montollion times. Also that I store enough water in my face for both eyes and nose to dribble concurrently.

5) Arriving back stiff and tired to a dark and husband-free house, I was overwhelmed by a feeling of reciprocated warmth and love when I was greeted profusely by the ‘welcome home’ committee, a glorious choral rendition of the perfectly-blended utterances of four dogs, three cats and flumpteen birds. OK, maybe not quite perfectly-blended. Or choral. Or even a greeting. But at least they’re pleased to see me. 

Or maybe just hungry.

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Comments on: "Love and Hate and Other Passions" (9)

  1. . . rising above it – I wish! So, now you are a bloody example I need to follow 😀

    • I am touched and honoured that someone for whom I have nothing but admiration should say so, but never, never follow me as an example of anything!

      You would be sadly led astray, I fear.

  2. Those labels are incredibly annoying, aren’t they? They drive me bonkers too and sometimes make my saggy old skin turn red at the pressure point. I try and cut the labels out when I can.

    • As do I. But there is always that period of wear during which the need to wield the scissors is discovered – that time of intimate contact with a family of fire ants that have made their new nest between your clothing and your skin.

  3. Sue Keelan said:

    Regarding number 2, let’s hope the offending chewing gum sticks like super glue and then the scissors can be gainfully employed trying to create a new hairstyle! Can you tell chewing gum is one of my pet hates mainly because my Mum told me it was made out of horses toenails.

    • I think a horse’s ‘toenails’ would be a lot more organic than the cocktail of rubber and chemicals that actually go into the production of chewing gum!

      This particular little horror’s hair was beyond redemption, I think – spiky and unruly, he looked liked he’d seen a ghost. And the burst bubble then gave him the added effect of having been slimed 🙂

      • Sue Keelan said:

        Mmm, that makes me think that it was not the first time the bubble had burst!! ha ha! By the way, I won’t tell you how old I was before I realised horses don’t have toe nails!
        The pictures of your property are fantastic Debbie, you and John have done an excellent job. Lets hope the decibel lady comes up trumps and you can start trading (and earning!) soon.

  4. Ah, it’s the little things that make a life, isn’t it?

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