marbella-old-town.jpg.I’m referring to an article I just read on the UK’s online newspaper, which says that people are escaping Britain in their thousands. I don’t blame them!Click here to read more
Yes, it’s fair to say I’m rather fond of my weekend tipples. A couple of glasses of white wine whilst sitting on the terrace after work on a Friday night is the perfect way to wind down. However, when it comes to Saturday night, I’m usually seeking something with a bit more oomph! This can be in the form of vodka, gin and tonic, Tinto de Verrano (Spanish red wine and lemonade) or even sangria. However, I’m the type of person that once I’ve found a love of something, I cannot eat/drink/whatever it in moderation. I have to have it and I have to have lots of it (a bit like my pizza addiction).
So, my problem here is that I’m always spending warm and sunny Sundays in bed with banging headaches and feeling so dizzy I can barely lift my head of the pillow without wretching, and to be honest I’m fed up of experiencing that.
I’ve been drinking alcohol since I was 14 now (oh, the good old days… sipping cider on the streets of Morley with my mates…) and I reckon it’d be very hard to quit, if only for a few weeks, but I’m going to give it my best shot (maybe ’shot’ was the wrong choice of word there!). Although it will be difficult, since drinking alcohol is big in Spain and very hard to avoid- it’s available pretty much everywhere, from the petrol station to the thousands of ice cream kiosks that are scattered along the shoreline. It really is a way of life here, although the Spanish tend to drink slower than us Brits and most often with food, rather than bingeing.
So, this really is a challenge and a half but I guess it will do me good.
Stay tuned to find out how the cold turkeying is going…
There’s not one day goes by that I don’t wonder what the hell I’m doing in Spain. That’s not to say I don’t have a great life here though- I love it. The people can be a bit much sometimes and the lack of rock n roll can be rather disappointing (thank God for Limewire) but all in all, I’d say I’m pretty happy. Well, a lot happier than I was in the UK and as a result, I think I’ve smiled more in the past few months than I ever have in my entire 24 years of being on the planet.Anyway, about half an hour ago and just out of curiosity, I thought I’d go onto YouTube and type in ‘Beeston’ (the suburb of Leeds where I resided before coming out to Spain) and managed to find a few examples of what I hate about the place and why I needed to get away from there.These videos were filmed around the street where I was living.Beeston bus fire Fight outside The Broadway pub Adults encouraging kids to fight in the street - Strong language!So there you have it. Three good reasons to leave the country.I’m not saying that doesn’t happen here. It does (and funnily enough, it’s the British holidaymakers who cause most of the trouble) but atleast it’s more uncommon and I don’t feel like I have to look over my shoulder every two minutes on the way home from work, for fear of being mugged and stabbed.
People think it’s crazy that I run indoors as soon as night falls, however, if they were me, they’d understand why.
Last year, when I first arrived in Spain, I was unprepared for a lot of things and one of them just happened to be mozzies. They’re not too much of a problem for most people but for some reason, they seem to have taken a real shine to me.
A year ago, I was covered in bites from head to toe and was afraid to go out in public as I had more craters on my arms and legs than all the planets of the solar system put together. Not a good look.
So, right now, I’m sitting n the terrace of my apartment, armed. I’m ready for the buggers and I can’t wait to take them on.
I’ve got this roll-on repellent which seems to be doing the job so far but I guess I won’t know until tomorrow…
Ok, I admit it. I am completely oblivious to dirt and am quite happy to live with it, until things start to look so filthy, they could almost grow legs and gallop away. However, yesterday and today have proved that there is a domestic goddess somewhere in me, just dying to get out. Yesterday, I double-dared myself to pick up the anti-bacterial multi-purpose surface cleanser type thingy spray and I also managed to lift a clean sponge from where it had been sitting and waiting to be used for, ooh, three months?
So, I whizzed around the bathroom like the Tasmanian Devil and now it’s sparkling and I’m no longer afraid to touch anything in there! And- today was a bank holiday- so I hopped on a bus to La Canada (a big shopping mall near the mountains) and bought a shower curtain, a toothbrush holder AND a little tub for the soap to sit in!!! I’m so proud of myself, I could cry!!!
And that’s not all- next month, Im going to buy a bath mat!
Having lived in sunny Spain for just over a year, you’d think I’d be sick of the sight of poolside pina coladas, abandoned armbands and Brit-filled beaches, not to mention the herds of Lookie-Lookie men, determined to sell their stacks of fake Dior sunglasses (who’d buy the real ones anyway?). But no. Working 9:30am til 6:30pm, Monday to Friday means that by the time I get home, the sun’s just beginning to fade away for the day and therefore, Saturday and Sunday are my only opportunity to get out there and catch some well deserved rays. my-pool.jpg Today however, I was off work with cold-like symptoms- you know, that horrible, weak and floppy feeling when your skin hurts to touch and your body just aches? Anyway, I went outside to get what I thought was going to be fresh air and after a few minutes, realised I was very much mistaken. It was just too hot. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that work is probably the best place for me and sunstroke, sweating and the inability to breathe should be left to the holidaymakers.
At precisely 9:20pm on Friday 10th August, 1007, my band, Sammy’s Escape, of which I am the lead singer, performed live at Estepona bullring as one of two opening acts for 70’s legends, Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel.It was a very surreal evening. Our sound was superb- you could hear every word as clear as day, unlike our previous gigs, and it felt amazing to be on the other side after years of watching bands and wishing I was up there with them. Wearing the word ‘Artist’ on tags around our necks had to be the funniest part, well, that and the fact that after the gig, I got so drunk I didn’t even realise the guy who was posing for photos with me backstage wasn’t even Steve Harley- it was his drummer!!! P.S. If anyone has any photos of the gig, let me know, as most of mine are on my poorly laptop and I can’t get to them at the moment.
Ok, this is the first time I’ve ever done this whole blog thingy, so go easy on me! My name’s Ellie and my life has been like something from a dodgy soap opera, particularly during the past twelve months, so I hope I manage to intrigue and entertain at the same time. If not, let me know and I’ll try spice things up by going on a killing spree or joining the circus (just kidding).
