Life and relocation to Spain

I’m not sure when the reality of moving abroad kicks in but it happens soon after arriving and I frequently find myself thinking ‘We live in Spain now!’. The process of moving, as ever, had its challenges.

The day before leaving our house in the United Kingdom, Tuesday 29th July, the landlord of the Spanish house we are renting telephoned with some insecurities over the payment of rent. We had paid the deposit as requested and had an agreement to pay two months rent on signing of the contract the day after we moved in. At one point it looked very like he was going to return the deposit and take his house off the rental market. Fortunately by the end of the day we were back to our previous agreement but the anxiety levels we had were much raised by the incident.

The following day, Wednesday 31st July, the removal company were scheduled to collect our furniture at 9AM. The company had been booked over the Internet and it was already slightly concerning to us that we only had a company name and telephone number but no address to use. By 10AM when the van hadn’t arrived the anxieties of the previous day began to surface again and we were on the phone trying to find out what was going on. The story from the broker that arranged the removal was that the van had been locked in a warehouse over night and they had been unable to unlock the van until 9AM so we should expect a lunchtime collection. A further phone call at 1PM assured us that all was well and the driver had stopped for lunch at Exeter and would be with us shortly. When the removal van arrived the excitement was tangible. Out of the cab stepped a slightly overweight greying figure puffing on a cigarette. I asked innocently whether he had one or two colleagues with him for this job. He laughed and asked if I had read the email they sent out. The answer was of course ‘no’ as our Internet had switched off a couple of days previously. Apparently they did email to ask whether one person would be sufficient for the removal and asked that we email back if we thought it would be necessary to put another person on the van. So, £1400 to arrange a removal and we got one guy to lift all of our contents and furniture up the eighteen steps at the front of the house and down to the van parked fifty yards away. Consequently I had to put in three hours of back breaking work helping load the van. With the help of my sister-in-law and niece, Sally cleaned the house through ready for rental whilst I loaded the van and then we headed off to the in-laws for a meal and a couple of hours sleep before the morning flight to Spain.

The first day here, the 1st August, felt slightly surreal. It was a Thursday and we were recovering from a long day the day before with lots of physical work in either moving or cleaning. The night before travelling had given us a little over two hours sleep each due to the time of the flight and consequently we were all tired, anxious and struggling to enter into the spirit of things. We immediately cooled off in the pool on arriving – the temperature was already a very warm 34 degrees. The next door neighbour appeared over the wall immediately to give Emily and invite to her daughter’s birthday party on the coming Sunday. The pool guy turned up and shared a beer as he explained some of the idiosyncrocies of the house and area.

The house echoed for a few days and it wasn’t until out furniture arrived on the Saturday that it started to feel like home. With the additional furniture that didn’t fit on the first van only arriving yesterday and the furniture we had ordered from a local shop joining it yesterday evening the house finally started to look and feel like a home.

The unusual thing that strikes almost immediately on arriving is the quality of care and helpfulness in the local community. Emily had an invite to a birthday party. Another neighbour came down with a telephone for us to borrow and some cups and cutlery. He also provided some tea, coffee and milk to get ensure we could have a drink on arrival. Today we are off to a pool party with other friends – it is surprising how quickly the community feel picks you up and makes you feel like friends.

Getting used to Spanish time has been another challenge of the last week. Mostly ays start early, take time out in the middle of the day to sleep or rest inside, and then continue late. Two days ago we heard there was a fiesta in the nearby village of Simat. Having spent days in the house unpacking we decided it would be good for all of us to go down and enjoy a little of the Spanish party atmosphere. I don’t know what we expected – Simat is only a small village. Sally thought there may be some entertainment for children. I guess my stomach had decided there would be stalls selling delicious titbits of local food, maybe even an outside bistro for a cool beer. As we pulled into Simat we saw what we thought was a stage and seating so parked the car and headed over. In fact the end of the street had been blocked off with a heavy wooden barracade and looking over there were steel cages placed up and down the street with spaces for seating on top. The streets were crowded with people playing football and chatting. It soon became apparent that this was going to be a bull running festival and surely enough following a loud firework to mark the start a bull soon careered through the street stopping only a few feet away and snorting as it was taunted by the crowds. The spectacle was interesting but principally dull as the bull had the run of the whole village so would appear for a few moments and then disappear for the next half hour. Eventually we moved back to our own village with the thought of getting an evening meal. The restaurant served drinks but didn’t start serving food until 9.30PM so it was a late night when we eventually got back to the villa.

Today we are waiting on a phone call from our abogado (solicitor) to confirm she has collected our NIE (basically a national insurance number for foreigners that is needed for everything). And then out to enjoy afternoon sun at a friend’s pool party. Having spent nearly a week without Internet connection it has been hard to keep my blog upto dae but hopefully thanks to the assistance of a Spanish speaking English neighbour who managed to phone the Telefonica support line and get our Internet running, keeping upto date in future should be easier.

Today was traumatic - not for me but for Emily who had to say goodbye to the hamster that Father Christmas bought last year. Harry had become a loved member of the family - at least as far as Emily was concerned - and sadly it was just not possible to move him to Spain. Fortunately a kind work mate of Sally offered to look after him and so Emily spent the morning typing out care instructions to ensure her hamster is properly cared for. She managed to deliver the hamster herself and explain how to care for him which I thought showed tremendous strength for a six year old handing over her christmas present. (The agreement is that she can replace Harry with another delightful rodent once we are settled in Spain and I have a horrible feeling she is going to hold us to that promise.)

The last few days have been manic with a complete misunderstanding of how much we still had to do both in the detail of phoning various companies/utilities about our move, trying to find a tennant and packing for the move. Sadly we still don't have a tennant for the house which is causing us some concern. The good news however is that Sally has an agreed compensation payment come through literally today for an accident that we were involved in over 18 months ago. This will really help if it takes a few more weeks to find a tennant. I'm currently taking time off from painting the conservatory (the final room to decorate) before finally disconnecting the computer in a few minutes. And so, for at least a few days we will be offline and will disappear into the murky fog of the real world but hope to return to our virtual lives in the next week or so.

The last few days have also been a little traumatic for other members of the family with goodbyes being said almost constantly whenever we meet friends or family. We had discussed whether or not we could visit over Christmas. Initially we decided that to do so would be to run the risk of falling into a pattern of visiting and never having the inner strength to be away from famiy and friends at crucial points. Potentially such a trip may add to homesickness. Sally however, as she still lives so close to her family, was struggling more than I with the notion of leaving and not having a date to visit folks. Consequently we are considering coming back after Christmas and trying to catch up with friends and family over the New Year break. This seems to have helped Sally who now she has a possible time for returning and visiting family feels more comfortable about the move. Certainly it was a little upsetting when we had a leaving party and Sally's nan, who is 92 years old, admitted her own mortality by saying how sad she was that she would never see Sally again. To be able to reassure her that we had an intention of visiting over New Year certainly put a small smile back on her face again today. Getting the balance right between maintaining those family relationships and still really moving is going to be so tricky.

I had a mild panic moment today. The company who are moving us to Spain I realised didn't have an address to deliver to, which seemed slightly odd as they are collecting on Wednesday at 9AM. It turns out they are so used to people handing over furniture and wordly posessions before having a destination address that they weren't at all surprised not to have been given the destination address. Whether I'm 100% sure of their operation or not I don't know...it could just be an elaborate scam to fleece people of everything they own and even help them load the burglar's van! Time will tell

Anyway, the conservatory needs a second coat of paint and there is still too much to do to spend too much time drifting around my virtual life - back to reality and fingers crossed for our move on Wednesday and Thursday this week - I will be sure to blog the end result.

After tentative discussions at the start of the year, applications on February, interviews and a job in March,and a preliminary visit in May it seems incredible that coe are now only two weeks away from moving. The biggest went in our lives is so very close.

The last couple of weeks have seen the pace increasing as the packing and preparations become increasingly desperate. Fortunately I managed to sell my car this weekend, admittedly for a fair bit less than I thought it was worth, but at least that provides me with the money to purchase a cheap car when we arrive.

We've also managed to dismantle and tip some of the larger furniture that we're not taking as well as make the packing look like an achievable task. The main things left to pack are the kitchen items and the clothes, most of which will need doing in the final week. We will be flying out with two suitcases. One will contain swimming clothes, towels, toiletries, air beds, a pump and a lilo. The other will contain the essential clothes to see us through the first few days until our removals van arrives.

On the paperwork side we have also been fairly busy. Both our English and Spanish banks needed Internet banking to be set up. We need to complete a "Non resident landlord" form for the tax office. Also a form to claim back overpaid tax as a result of not working the full financial year in the United Kingdom. In addition I had to arrange a bulky items refuse collection for a couple of days before we leave in order to ensure that the fridge freezer and washing machine are collected before our tenant moves in... which brings me to the only major incomplete task, renting our house. I'm hoping that as it was listed with more agents last week we now have a better chance of finding the right person.

With only 29 days until we move we had a really relaxing weekend with no jobs towards moving getting done at all. On Saturday evening we had tickets for a Westlife concert. I guess attending a boyband concert is one of those ''once in a lifetime... is more than enough" experiences. Certainly the showmanship of Westlife themselves made for an entertaining evening. As somebody who could never be considered a fan though I felt like an agnostic in a cathedral- people around me were responding as though this was some sort of religious ceremony and I was failing to feel the mysterious power that was driving them to this fervour.At one point as the opening bars of a song began a woman a little way to my left collapsed sobbing into her friend's arms as she swayed to the music. I'm sure the song must have carried some emotional significance to her but it only served to strengthen the sensation that this was a private members club that required absolute emotional devotion from its followers.
More amazing than the fanatical devotion was the fight that broke out. It came from nowhere. One moment everybody around me was swaying to a ballad. The next, a punch went flying and within seconds half a dozen guys had joined in. By the time the security had pushed their way through there was a scrum of punches and kicks. All this at a Westlife concert! The cause of the fight remains a complete mystery.

From the Westlife concert we ambled into the city centre and spent an enjoyable couple of hours in the casino - actually managing to leave whilst still up enough to have paid for the night out.

Leaving the casino we deliberated on whether or not to go for one last drink before going home. As we were thinking this over we watched the police breaking up another fight and using four vans to take away the various miscreants. We decided against another drink - who knows, maybe one more would have been all we needed to join the crowds that thought a Saturday night rumble was part of the fun of going out. Finally, in the queue for the taxi, following a string of abuse between groups of children who looked about fourteen years old, another fight started - fortunately it gave us time to grab the taxi of the main protagonists as they slugged it out and make our way safely home. I don't know if it will turn out to be a universal problem but in the taxi ride home we agreed that it seemed extremely unlikely that the village we are moving to in Spain has Saturday night rumbles as a feature of the three local bars.

With 29 days to go the time pressure is beginning to feel slightly more accute. Amongst jobs still to do we need to:
Sell two cars; find a tenant for our house; inform the water, gas and electric companies of our move; inform the city council of the move for poll tax purposes; cancel the phone and television; cancel the TV license payment; continue to pack the remaining half of the house; dismantle some furniture for the tip; receive money being drawn down from our mortgage; transfer funds both to our Spanish account and to the landlord's account to cover August. All this with still a further three weeks of work to go.

Today is however my last chance to experience the NHS as I have a wisdom tooth extracted - and I'm sure when I choose to count back as the anaesthetic is administered it will be counting back from 29 - it's just a shame I can't wake up 29 days later with all of the moving taken care of.

Does having a certain amount of frustration with the English system make an emmigration more or less likely to succeed? One view may be that it takes a certain amount of frustration with the system to want to move anyway - why undergo the hassle of moving abroad if you're completely content with things in your home country? An alternative view might be that somebody with a propensity to rant at the system will do so wherever they settle - only time will tell.

With 34 days to go until we leave everything we do seems to be with an eye on moving. Unfortunately we learned near the start of last week that our tenant had pulled out and no longer wanted the house. Although slightly irritating, the agency is sure we still have plenty of time to find another tenant. What was most surprising though was their reason for pulling out. Apparently they have been allocated a council house. The family in question currently rent a property privately and were in a position to offer us 725 pounds per month. As a tax payer whose earnings subsidise local authority housing I was left considering how many other people are currently in the enviable position of having subsidised housing without any real financial need. I'm sure the quality of local authority housing could be improved if only the genuinely needy were given this housing support.

Whilst on the subject of political push factors to move abroad, am I the only person who doesn't understand how inflation figures are calculated? We're told that inflation is currently 3.3% and then in the same week learn that food has risen by 12%, petrol by 20% and home fuel by 18% with a winter rise of possibly as much as 40% still to come! Okay- even taking the fact that some of these rises are caused by global issues our own government is enjoying huge rises in the amount they pull in taxation from these products and totally failing to pass any of this money back to the general population. The cost of living in the United Kingdom is disproportionately high when compared to the quality of life that we receive from our relatively high levels of income.

And so to Spain. It is would be nieve to assume that everything will seem better in the Spanish System but first impressions are that it is possible to earn substantially less and yet enjoy an increased standard of living. This weekend then will be spent in further preparation for our moving day of 31st July. More goods to be boxed up, more items to be disposed of and more days to be crossed off the calendar as moving day moves ever nearer.

Alongside looking forward to moving into this house is the seemingly huge amount of work to do prior to moving.
We do have a tennant for our own house so that piece of the puzzle slotted into place quite quickly. Disposing of my car however has been more difficult. The mortgage company decided they needed a surveyor's report in order to draw down additional borrowing which has been another appointment this week. In addition, the tumble dryer part of the washer-dryer took this week to decide to pack up. We were on the edge of deciding whether white good needed to go or be replaced but fortunately this has been repaired quite cheaply so the washer-dryer gets its place on the truck.

The lorry itself is now set to become the focus of our weekends. Basically we have 12 cubic metres booked. Consequently we are now heading to mark out a space so we understand exactly what 12 cubic metres looks like and then we need to trip around the house moving items to either our 12 cubic metre marking space or to the local tip. All of this looks set to take time.

And then on the back of this the flights are booked and at last we know that our furniture will be collected on the morning of the 30th July, we will fly out on the morning of the 31st July, and our furniture will arive in Spain on either the 1st or 2nd of August.

To end a quote taken from a book I'm reading at the moment,
"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one piece of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun."

This week seems to have whizzed by in a whir of action and the beginnings of the enormity of the move seem to be hitting home.
The house we are moving to in Spain is fantastic and key to the next few weeks is the countdown to the exciting summer that will be a combination of holiday and homemaking.
I had intended to post pictures of our new house prior to now but here goes...

This is the view of the outside of the villa.

This is the view from the upstairs villa window across the La Baracca valley.

This is the fountain area in the landscaped garden area. The bodega (wine cellar) is located below this garden.

This is the pool area of the villa, again looking down the La Baracca valley.

This is the Paellaria or 'Summer kitchen'.

This seems to have been a manic week so far.
The car is now for sale. At the time of putting it up for sale I was still intending to buy a van and self-move to Spain. Then, having found companies that offer part loads by the cubic metre, lost my way slightly on the part load. A transit van quantity costs about £1000 to move and therefore I have booked a removal firm. They will collect furniture and goods on the morning of the 30th July, and leave on the Plymouth to Santander ferry on the same day. We will fly out on the morning of the 31st July and our furniture should join us on the 1st or 2nd of August. Seems far easier and less stressful than actually trying to move ourselves.

The flights then are booked, leaving from Bristol to Valencia on Easyjet - about 7.30AM on the morning of 31st July. This has in itself helped spark a little homesickness in Sally prior to leaving as the enormity of owning one way tickets to Spain begins to hit home.

The house is on the rental market and appears in the paper on Tuesday next week. The rental company were really positive about finding somebody quickly partly as a result of the hard work we have put in over the last few weeks to make the place presentable for renting.

The house in Spain it seems is all but sorted. The contract should be with us by the end of this week and the funds for the deposit are currently clearing in my current account. The landlord seems happy for us to sign contracts once we've moved in as then we can do it at his solicitor's office in Oliva.

So, all go and another busy week beckons as we try to sell the car and rent out our own house.

Everything to do with life is now compared to moving to Spain. I was dragging the wheelie bins up the front garden the other day and realised that I only have three more recycle bin empties between now and living in Spain. That actually starts to bring home the reality of how quick the next few weeks are going to be.
This week has been spent discussing with a rental agency about our own property and getting to a point where I will be able to list my car for sale. The rental agency is now instructed and will be here on Monday evening to take photographs of the house ready for adverts.
The car has its MOT and the tax is purchased and awaiting delivery. Once it arrives I can clean the car up and stick a couple of adverts out - and once the car sells I will be able to buy the van ready for moving.
The owner of the villa we are going to rent has also been in contact regularly. He is in the process of installing a pedestrian access through the garden so it's not always necessary to open the electric gates for to the drive to leave the property.
On arriving back in the UK last weekend I had to drive down to Plymouth from Bristol airport. Between Bristol airport and the M5 at 2 o'clock in the morning a speed camera flashed...on a straight piece of road with no houses where inexplicably for just a few hundred yards the speed limit dropped from 60 to 40 and then immediately was raised again. The camera was conveniently poised just inside the 40 zone - not a built up area - just a random 40 zone to sting drivers unnecessarily. And so today, the fine arrives - 60 quid and three points for daring to drive so irresponsibly as to do 52 mph on an empty straight road at 2AM! Oh roll on leaving this country.
Then on Monday I was tasked with completing an application form for the parent of a child I teach who wishes to claim a benefit that just seems entirely unjust and unwarranted but yet I know will eventually be awarded. Seems to me the current benefits system is one of the blights of UK society and is one of the principle reasons that middle income earners are hugely overtaxed. How frustrating to pay taxes so they can be generously shared out to labour voters who may well never pay into the system. What a joy that the system is only going to be a gripe of mine for another couple of months.
On Thursday I have the joy of a last sampling of NHS before Spain as they remove a wisdom tooth. This week I had to therefore attend a pre-admission check up where they took swabs to check for MRSA. The nurse in question didn't see the humour of my retort that I was expecting them to give me MRSA and not the other way around.
Sometimes I think my intolerance of British politics really does make me a prime candidate for moving abroad.
The photograph of the view down the La Barraca valley from our villa is now perched on my windowsill so I can keep reminding myself of just how few weeks there are to go before life changes - hopefully for the better.

Monday 26th May
The day seemed long. A 2AM wake up with a six year old child is always going to make for a long day. The flight out was on time and pleasant despite a small amount of turbulence. The day before had ended with the minor anxiety of me having mislaid my driving licence. Consequently we had to cancel the car hire at Alicante airport and rebook it in Sally's name. The initial reaction on arrival in the country was mixed. I was looking out the window pontificating on the beauty of Spain and Sally was desparately trying to get used to a left hand drive car in horrid traffic and failing to share my enthusiasm. This was further exacerbated by missing a turn-off to Xativa where we were staying. In the navigator's seat I helpfully suggested that we take the next available exit and cut back through Gandia. Gandia turend out to be a forty five minute nightmare of narrow streets and infuriatingly impatient Spanish drivers and then in a groundhog moment, wound up with the horror of appearing at the same roundabout that had introduced us to the town forty five minutes before. The air turned blue as Emily repeatedly called out from the back seat "How much longer mummy?"
Fortunately once we found the correct road the journey in to Xativa was relatively simple and the rest of the day was spent in superb company as our hosts poured wine and took us on a shopping trip to the nearest village. This gave me time to phone the necessary contacts and book viewings of properties for Tuesday. By the end of the night after a little too much wine and a mistimed midnight swim we were ready to sleep.

Tuesday 27th May
I awoke to my phone going and thought initially it was the alarm I had set to ensure I didn't miss our 11AM appointment to view two properties. It turned out to be the owner of a property we wanted to view in the afternoon to confirm that having discussed the issue with her husband we would be welcome to rent their villa for our upper budget limit of 800 Euros per month. This was good news and slightly confused the day’s task as Sally favoured a property we had already seen images of, having convinced herself that the previously mentioned property would be well out of our budget. So, at 11AM we met a couple in the car park of the McDonalds in Xativa to view two properties. The first in Manuel was a huge disappointment. As one of twelve smallish looking terraced houses with a shared pool it was always going to struggle to compete with the competition. The fact that the pool area was dug up, the access roads were horrid and the pool, even in late May, was untreated really sealed its fate. It was a real concern as this was the first property we had viewed and to say we had no desire to live there would be to hugely understate the case. The second property was behind a town called Alberic. The house was on an almost exclusively English urbanisation and, located ten minutes from the gated entrance, felt a long way from anywhere. The house itself was faultless. Beautifully furnished and imacculatly presented it seemed ideal but something just didn't seem right. The grounds did need some work still and I was not at all convinced by the assurances that the owner realised this and 'had plans'. The villa itself though and the pool area were beautiful. Enquiring about summer availability so we could be sure of an advantageous moving date brought about swift confusion. It eventually transpired that the owner was cashing in on the lucrative Spanish holiday months of July and August and already had a verbal agreement to let those months for 2000 Euros each. Consequently we were in limbo as to start work on the first of September requires a house prior to September. A further phone call confirmed that the owner was prepared to let August to us for the 'generous' price of just 1500 Euros if we signed on a rental agreement at 800 Euros thereafter.
And so we proceeded to a villa in La Barraca, on the opposite side of the valley to the school in which we will be working. The intial reaction on entering the valley itself was one of complete awe. Mountainous slopes towered up each side to heights of over 1000 feet and the valley itself was lush with fruiting orange trees. After a three course meal with unlimited wine in the local bistro (at a cost of just 8 Euros per person) we were shown the house by a neighbour. Everything about the house was perfect. Mains electric and landline; its own water supply confirming free water; terraces on both sides of the house meaning you can sit in the sun or the shade all day as it suits you; a beautiful kidney shaped swimming pool; smart décor and wonderful appliances. And so, we confirmed to the owner that we would like contracts drawing up as soon as possible and would be delighted to rent at the agreed price. Then, to round off a near-perfect day, having spent an afternoon swimming, we headed off to an ex-pat Bar-B-Q. The notion of mixing solely with ex-pats doesn't appeal but the warmth of the welcome and the constant free advice on offer made us both realise that there is a need to belong to both the ex-pat community and the local community if you are to make the most of the opportunity of living in this stunning area. And so, satisfied that we had enjoyed both a productive and relaxing day we headed to bed to get a good night's sleep in preparation for a day in school on Wednesday.

Wednesday 28th May
A civilised start time of between 10 and half past won't always be our working day in Spain but did give us time for a breakfast of toast and freshly squeezed orange juice. This was followed by a period of concern as we dressed in our carefully chosen outfits for work. Trying to find a balance between formality and not over dressing was difficult but we set off alllowing an hour for our journey. As we have already begun to get to know the roads the journey only took half an hour which gave us a further thirty minutes of nervously waiting around. The driveway to the school is flanked on both sides by orange groves loaded with fruit. The school itself is surrounded by large pine trees - a bright white grand building with red clay tile roof. The entrance to the school opens into a large cool waiting area with marble floors. The comparisons to the small waiting area in my current primary school was impossible to avoid and I couldn't help but take a photograph through the waiting room window looking up a sun drenched outside corridor. Whilst we were waiting another couple arrived also awaiting a tour of the school. Deborah and Nigel it transpired were making a similar move to ourselves and also by chance had found this blog. (If you're still reading guys, hi - and looking forward to drinks in La Barracca in August.)
The tour of the school was delightful. The sun was shining but the temperature was comfortable and we were able to see immediately a positive learning atmosphere and a real warmth to the place. It is impossible to judge a place by a few photographs and sometimes the most wonderful looking school can simply feel wrong. In this case however the grandeur of the school was clearly supported by a friendly and warm feel. Emily was suitably impressed by the swimming pools as we went around and also the huge sandy playground area. We left for lunch and agreed to come back in the afternoon to spend some time with our appropriate classes.
The place for lunch was the same as yesterday - Nou in La Barracca village. The place had been recommended by the landlord of the property we hoped to rent and the 8E menu del dia that was offered was filling and accompanied by as much wine as you cared to drink. Today was a slightly more sober affair however as we contemplated our new employers, the school, and the new life we were suddenly becoming very aware of as we spent time in the valley that we hoped soon to call home.
During lunch I phoned the landlord and arranged to visit the house once again after we had finished in the school. Although we were both convinced of the property, we also both felt the need to look once more and judge what we had seen after the benefit of a night's sleep.
Following lunch we returned to the school and spent time in our respective classes. Emily was excited and enjoyed going out to play with her future class and even just being in school - a normal activity for a six year old but tinged with the exotic as she was the only native English speaker in the class. I was intrigued to speak with the children who were busy planning a shadow puppet story as part of their science work on light and shadow. The children were interested by my presence but also focussed in what they were doing and keen to share their learning with me.
As we finished our time in class we asked about Emily's uniform. We had thought it would be fun for her to pick up at least the school jumper so she would have something concrete of her new school when we returned home. The school shop informed us that the uniform which included everything from PE kit, through shoes and trainers to a school bag, would cost us 350E. Along with the registration fee of 360E and the dining fee of 125E per month it was becoming clear that there were going to be costs associated with this move that we either weren't aware of or had seriously underestimated. We left the school and collected our car from the shade of a large pine tree on the driveway. Leaving to go and take a look around the house took longer than expected as streams of air conditioned coaches poured up the long driveway to the school to provide transport for pupils to return to villages all over the area. At least we would not need the 100E per month transport as we would be living just a few minutes drive from the school and arriving together, with Sally and I as staff, and Emily as pupil.
When we arrived at the house, the neighbour was again there ready to show us around. The concern we had was that the house had a strange layout. Officially a three bedroom villa the house was presented with only two bedrooms as the current owners had removed one bedroom to create a large utility room that on this second viewing seemed irrelevant to our needs and likely to be a space we would never use. We looked around the house noticing the positives and negatives. On the one hand the sun was still at five o' clock on the west side of the property heating the swimming pool. The roof terrace above the summer kitchen on the east of the property was warming up beautifully as the fountain gurgled away below. On the negative side was the fact that seeing beyond the two bedrooms and trying to imagine how the space could be used when visitors stayed was becoming increasingly more difficult. Eventually we conceded that all the properties we had seen failed to offer perfection and that whilst where visitors slept here would require some thought, it did offer a superb location and an ideal living space for Sally, Emily and myself. Conversations about where double futons or sofa beds could be placed eventually left us with the feel that the villa could work for us. It seemed churlish to be nit-picking when compared to our life in England in a three bed semi-detached house on an estate to the north of Plymouth, the villa was incredible; a kind of luxury pad that in our English world would be home to a footballer or actor of some note.

Thursday 29th May
Our first appointment of the day was at the school at the relaxed time of half eleven. The day then started with more freshly squeezed orange juice and a bief swim in the pool. Once at the school Emily immediately disappeared to her now happily adopted class and Sally and I went to spend time in the class that would be mine in September. We talked with children as they engaged in a writing activity based on a previous visit to the Biopark in Valencia. The children were keen to discuss their work and welcomed us both to the room. The school itself had a calm organised feel with children moving around the building in an ordered fashion, chaperoned by teachers and assistants between playground and classroom. With the possible exception of a worried eight year old answering to the headteacher for his lack of homework, all of the children seemed genuinely happy in their school. This on reflection was very important because as an indicator of a school community it is one that cannot be faked. Happy children usually indicate happy staff and everybody we spoke with underlined this and made us feel that as a working environment we had really fallen on our feet.
By the time we were ready to leave school Sally and I struggled to find Emily. We eventually prised her from class where she was settling down to enjoy a Spanish lesson having already had lunch in school and a long playtime. The school lunch is something that seems entirely alien to anybody who has watched the unfolding misery of English school dinners being battled by Jamie Oliver. Children are served a three course lunch that apart from a very occasional hamburger will always be distinctly Spanish. Shellfish and rice predominate but always accompanied by a starter that is usually soup and a postre or dessert. With one and a half hours for lunch and a further thirty minutes available for slow eaters there is also enough time to eat without causing indigestion.
We left the school and headed down towards Cullera on the coast - a twenty minute or so drive from the village to a beautiful long stretch of golden sand. The beach shelved gently into the Mediteranean providing hundreds of yards of shallow warm water for swimming. Sat on the beach with the early evening sun still warm enough to burn and the calm waters of the Med washing onto the shore really gave us a buzz - as we left the beach we voiced our joint happiness - this beach could easily be on our way home from school and the hour we had spent today could be a regular evening experience after work.
In the evening we downloaded a copy of our rental agreement. The hope of the landlord was that we would be able to visit the solicitor in Oliva the following day, pay a deposit and sign the contract. The reality though was jaded by the amount of the deposit and the fact that the contract still didn't include start dates. Therefore with some regret I had to speak to the landlord and cancel the appointment with the solicitor, explaining that we would need a week in the United Kingdom to draw down the money for the deposit and would also need to wait until the contract was complete before we signed. As we chatted amongst ourselves over a glass of wine we came to the realisation that because of the demands of money to payout in our first couple of months of Spanish life we would need to speak to our mortgage company about drawing down another small amount of money to keep us buoyant - there would be nothing worse than arriving penniless and struggling to make ends meet.

Friday 30th May
Having cancelled the apointment with the solicitor in Oliva we had more time to begin our morning. Certainly loosing the stress of driving into the centre of a large town over an hour away - and on market day too - made for a more relaxed start to the morning. As with so much in Spain the information about what was required in order to deal with officialdom was conflicting. Some advice suggested we would need the NIE in order to open a bank account. This would be a real stumbling block as we were unlikely to see our NIE until the end of September at the earliest. However, others thought that we could open a Spanish current account with no more than our passports and give our United Kingdom address for corresponsdance. Shirley, our host offered to drive us to the La Caixa bank in Xativa. As she banked there herself she was able to confirm that the signs in their window proclaiming they spoke English were valid and certainly anything involving official paperwork benefits from a reliable English translation.
Xativa itself was buzzing and as we parked up in an underground carpark with the stale air of three floors of cars descending into our basement level the anxiety of the possibility of not being able to open an account today was very real. Without a bank account, with no contract for the villa yet, and with an NIE probably due at the end of September this week would seem to have fallen short of what we wanted to achieve. The heat of the day hit as we stepped out of the carpark into the sun - currently 40 degrees. The town was buzzing and as we stepped into the air conditioned calm of the bank our fingers were crossed. Thankfully passports were sufficient to open the bank account and 45 minutes later having signed in at least a dozen different locations we were leaving the bank with all the paperwork necessary to follow our current account using the Internet back home.
That evening we went toa restaurant in Xativa with our hosts – now friends. The food was superb and the ambience fantastic despite a steady drizzle outside.

Saturday 31st May
The busniess end of what we were able to achieve this week was now complete. Bank account opened, school visited, house contract on its way – therefore we spent the morning chilling out by the pool. Sally had decided to take a look around local furniture stores for the type of flat pack joy we might find in MFI in the United Kingdom. The intention was to check out prices and see whether costs would be similar to back home. The Carrefoure in Alzira offered an acceptable range of flat pack furniture and so we drifted back via McDonalds – Emily was feeling the need for a little chill time herself after what had been quite an anxious week for her also.

Sunday 1st June
Another morning by the pool and then a trip out to Alboy for a meal in a traditional Spanish country restaurant next to the river. The food was delicious and exceedingly cheap. Large extended Spanish families were arriving to use the outside cooking space provided to prepare huge Paella dishes for the whole family to share. These were then consumed inside the restaurant – a service for which as I understand it the restaurant makes no charge. A last view of orange groves and then we drove back to Alicante and returned to the United Kingdom for what will be our last eight weeks before moving out at the start of August.