It isn't over until.........Jeremy sings!

...At long last I am back in Spain. I was in Bolton for six weeks, both dealing with my dad's estate and using the time to do some repairs to the flat. The first thing I needed to do was to replace the windows. Although they were double-glazed they were wooden and the rain and frost has managed to tear them apart over the last few years. So I rang Grosvenor a very reputable firm in Bolton, well they are based in Horwich actually. The man came to give me a quote and when my jaw came back off my chest and I could talk again, I said I would think about it. We have five windows, two which can be considered large windows and three that you would consider small. So I thought £2,400 a bit excessive.

Roy is my neighbour in Bolton and a good chap to know if you want to get a bargain anywhere. I had a word in his 'shell-like' and he rang Malcolm his brother-in-law. Malcolm was there in a shot and said he would charge me £1,780 I was beginning to like Malcolm. So he said "It will take 2 weeks to get the frames made and a day or two to fit them, and the bill can be settled in cash if that's all right. But only after you are satisfied". True to his word Malcolm was exactly two weeks to the day and beginning to install my new windows. Now this brings me to my second major maintenance problem. A few months prior to my sojourn in the UK, a man from British gas knocked on the flat door and my son who was 'resting' from his career in TV, answered the door. "Can I come in and smell for gas." the man asked. So in he came and looked around with a gas sniffer. Apparently someone had reported smelling gas and this was the safety inspection. When he looked at the gas fire he said "Oh dear, that can't be used, its issueing toxic fumes." promptly cutting it off from the gas supply.

So, as I was sitting at the table freezing in places in places where I didn't think frost could reach, because Malcolm had removed the window and was preparing for the installation of the new one, I composed an email to the makers of my gas fire. something like...."Dear sir or Madam, I have had one of your gas fires fitted from new four years ago. It is a flueless fire and after four years only, a man from the gas board came and promptly condemned it. Now whilst I accept the guarantee has long expired, I would have expected a fire of such expense to have lasted longer than four years before being disconnected by the Gas board as a potential death-trap. Is there anything you can do to make me feel better about both your product and your company before I go to 'Watchdog'?"

I received a very nice email back from Sally which in summary explained they were despatching me a fire tray free of charge, but I would have to pay for someone to fit it. Well I don't know about you but I called that a 'result'.

So, Malcolm was paid for an excellent job done, and a Corgi gas fitter from Westhoughton, came to fit the fire and once more we had heat. It was with all of this complete I decided I had been there long enough and back to Spain for me.

Which brings us to yesterday. Our friend Patrick invited us to his apartment for Sunday lunch and we had agreed to meet more friends later in the Marina Bar. Patrick has a lovely apartment in a block at the top of the hill. His views are of the Rincon de Loix, levante and Poniente beaches. Out to sea and over the hills. He cooked us a delicious meal of Melon and smoked salmon, followed by Lamb and roasted vegetables with honey and lionnaise potatoes, finished with Patricks signature dish, Banoffee pie! Practically unable to walk due to greed! we set off for the marina, where we met up with Jeremy, Colin, Dave, Ian, Beryl and Pat.

We chatted and drank a bit and basked in the 20 degrees of sun having a whale of a time. Jeremy and Colin had been up to el Cisne (a Sunday market near Albir) and they had obviously had a few drinks there because Jeremy at least was merrier than us.

Jeremy and Colin are two of the nicest people you could, ever meet, and they are always good company. Since I mentioned his singing, however, in a previous blog, I do believe he is getting a phobia about it. I never said he couldn't sing, I just said we know when he is starting to feel the effects of whatever falling down juice he decided to drink that day, when he starts to sing. As per usual, we had a debate about several things but ultimately came around to politics. Jeremy and I sit at either end of the political spectrum. He is a great fan of Maggie Thatcher and all she stands for where as I am more like an Harold Wilson socialist, with a dash of Blair. So sometimes we tend to have opposite solutions to prevailing political and of course financial crises. But as they say in theatre it isn't over until the fat lady sings and just before Jeremy's departure, he sat back outstretched his arms and began to sing....."I'm coming out of makeup, The lights already burning, Not long until the cameras will start turning, and the early morning madness, and the magic in the making, yes everything's as if we never said goodbye......" Not that I am either likening Jeremy to 'the fat lady' nor Norma Desmand in Sunset Boulevard, I am merely pointing out that when Jeremy sings its mearly time to say goodbye.... (I told you I knew the words Jeremy)