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Two Sisters

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Two sisters sightseeing in Malaga.   The two sisters could not have been more different. At first glance, you would have thought they were twins, though on further perusal you could see how distinct each one was.   Kerry, the older sister by three months, had a longer face and her almond-shaped eyes observed you with a cool, almost stern, expression. Sometimes people were wary of her and asked if she would bite. That stern exterior disguised the warmest of warm hearts and she was the kind of friend you wanted on a night out. She would never let you down and would have ensured you caught the last bus or found a taxi to get you home. If all else failed, she would have walked you home herself.   Candy was always the baby. When Candy looked at you with her wide-open eyes you were immediately smitten. Everybody fell in love with Candy. Her round face and eager expression drew you in and she had a head that invited tousling. Candy was the sweet yet naughty one. It was lucky she...
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Against the Current

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  Stroke, splash, stroke, splash. It is October. My neck aches. I am back in a place of stress even though I vowed I would remain chilled and enjoy the whole building process. Builders push one to the limit. I do realise that building works always take longer than one expects, but the project is now more than a month behind and will not be finished by this weekend as my builder had promised me, merely two weeks ago. It’s the promises and the raised hopes dashed that does it.   This year has been far from easy. I lurched from AA meetings to lawsuits and from selling my house to buying a new place in need of a total makeover. I packed my whole life back into boxes, which remain packed as I wait in this limbo for my new home to be ready. As limbos go—it is not uncomfortable here and I have been very happy living on Calle Compás de la Victoria. It’s just time to move on.   Speaking of limbo: Do you know that I used to be able to limbo under a pole that was barely h...
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A Sugar Hangover.

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  What is Freedom? Raw thoughts pour into my brain – Am I truly free? Sweat pours through my skin. Why am I crying?   The hottest summer in recorded history and I am camping in a converted (not much) shop. I have single glazing and a glass door; the sun beats in at certain times of the day, although I keep the door and window shut when it is hottest. Thankfully there is an old and very dusty Venetian blind on the large window which I can scroll closed to keep out most of the sunlight. It also keeps out prying eyes but, unfortunately, a lot of the daylight too.   I have made this place a home and it is really, quite comfortable. True, I have no shower, but I do have a toilet and wash hand basin. It is enough. The ‘kitchen’ is a table and a cheap IKEA kitchen island, both of which I already owned. My ‘kitchen sink’ is a pink basin that is perched atop a large coffee table balanced on two trestles – I found all these items beside the ...
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No Apologies and no Regrets.

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Silent Witness. People have asked me many times, “Why on earth did you sell your lovely little house?” I’m not quite sure where to start. Let me see if I can muster a brief synopsis:   The year began auspiciously, I quit drinking and then I lost a lawsuit—the sword of Damocles that had been hanging over my head for the past three years—and I was ordered to pay 95,000 euros. That is not the sort of change most people have in their back pocket, so, thinking laterally, I sold my house.   I had planned to live out my golden years in that house, but oddly, selling my comfortable, cosy home, and jumping into the unknown, was rather liberating.   At the moment, I am trying to negotiate with the couple who sued me. I have appealed the ruling, without much hope of winning. Apparently, it could take about two years to go through the court system, so I thought I could save everybody some time and stress, by offering to pay them now. Now we are sort o...
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