Spanish Practices - Real Life in Spain
Society & Culture:Documentary
Today Custard and Daleks
Day Thirty one of the Spanish Lockdown, the sometimes amusing, diary of a Brit in southern Spain under the 'Alarma' - normal life has stopped.
To find out more: https://www.thesecretspain.com
Day 31 – Custard and Daleks
It is Day 31 of our Spanish Lockdown; I am starting to get quite blurry eyed. All day peering into the new computer that arrived yesterday from China, has made me quite myopic.
The first thing we did when it arrived is to wipe the whole thing down with alcohol, starting with the box it came in. I have to hand it to Apple their logistics are to be admired. The machine started in China moved the Chinese Export Zone and then flew to South Korea where it went on to Germany, from Germany to Portugal and from Portugal to Spain, it took more than two weeks.
It does prove that many businesses are quite capable of operating within lockdown. The delivery driver left the parcel on the step and sat in his cab; I received an email to confirm delivery.
Chris gets his computer to himself and has spent the day doing gym classes online, to begin with this felt a bit odd, now it is just a normal part of our daily routine.
Read a Facebook post from our friend Paul Coia, he was the first voice that was heard on Channel Four television back in the UK when it began broadcasting in 1982. Channel Four started with a raft of most peculiar programmes, quite a lot of complaints from Mary Whitehouse at the time. There were also quite a few complaints about Paul too. Up to that time continuity announcers were plummy accent types who had been to Eton or Sandhurst.
Paul was a Scot and, well sounded Scottish, ..outrageous!
He posted that every night he was making Birds Custard and old-fashioned stodgy puddings he had also, out of boredom, discovered an Airfix Dalek kit that he was constructing. It had been a birthday present from the two of us more than 25 years ago.. and he had kept it all this time.
I said “you idiot, it is worth a fortune still intact and boxed up.” I am really missing our British comfort foods. But where to buy custard locally? The local town is a custard free zone.
Spanish puddings are flan, arroz con leche, tarta de queso, and that is about it. The flan is like a crème caramel without the exciting crunchy top, arroz is a very very sweet rice pudding and the tarta a kind of really quite nice cheesecake, but less sweet than its American cousin and no biscuit base either.
If you want something else you need to go to a posh restaurant where you will find chocolate desserts, fruit pies and the like.
When we first came to Spain, I thought Spanish chocolate was disgusting, it had a lot less cocoa powder and was a poor product. That has all changed and the big brands and of course Lidl’s own chocolate have vastly improved the offering and choice.
When I was a child, sweets were a weekly treat, the three of us would go to the local cooperative shop and choose one item to the value of sixpence .. about two and half pence.
We were always greeted by the friendly, over friendly Manager of the store who always came out to greet us, often lifting me up to pick something from a higher shelf. Sometimes he would let us have extra sweets as a special treat. What a nice man I thought.
I was very sad when one day he suddenly disappeared as he was so kind to us. We were told that there had been some sort of bookkeeping problem and the Cooperative had sacked him.
Years later I realised the truth and just why he was so tactile and generous.
Day 31 and our thoughts have turned to custard. At school I hated custard it used to be served in great aluminium jugs and had a thick slimy skin on it. To be honest I hated school dinners, I have never cared for boiled potatoes and the half cooked mouldy spuds that my infant school served up were quite disgusting, rather like my father’s dinner time rules, you were not allowed to leave the table until you had finished your meal and one particular Dinner Lady delighted in bullying the children into eating everything on their plate.
To this day I still avoid plain boiled potatoes. Spanish spuds are different, they really taste potatoey – actually a lot of fruit and veg from the supermarket might not be perfectly formed, but all taste much better than the fruit and veg in Britain.
It took me a while to realise that although a lot of the fruit and veg grown here is sent over to the UK.. it has to travel for quite a few days and is packed not quite ripe, so that it arrives still edible.
Here the produce arrives sometimes within hours of being picked and ripened by the sun.. really delicious.
My Uncle Peter who lived in Barcelona during the 1950s with my Spanish Aunt Isobel, used to boast that you haven’t eaten an orange unless you have picked it from the tree yourself. I used to think he was just showing off, but actually oranges have a completely different texture and taste, fresh from a tree.
Aunty Isobel never turned up at our house without a gift. Our Spanish friends now are the same, just a little something to say thank you for inviting me.
I remember once Uncle Peter’s car rolled up outside our house and Isobel emerged struggling with what looked like a great big black metal shield.
“Ohh deeee ana, I have dragged this bluddy thing alf way across Spain, but I know you will like it, so much.”
She gave the enormous metal shield to my mother. We all gathered round to take a look. It was repulsive, in the centre was a large brass cut out of a fish, possibly of the goldfish variety, then to one side a series of nylon cords were stuck to the metal representing reeds. It also weighed a ton.
“You like no?” said Isobel. My mother always polite said.. “Yes it is very lovely and an original piece I would think?”
“But of course.” said Isobel, “We Spanish produce some very fine works of art, you know.”
My mother turned the monstrosity around to see if she could find the name of the Spanish artist who had, had the gaul to produce this ugliness. “Oh!” my mother exclaimed. Isobel came closer to see what she had found. We all looked and there on the back was a “Made in England” sticker!
For many years the “monstrosity’ as it was called by us all, hung in our hallway and every time I used to pass it I would remind me of my crazy Spanish Aunt and her “horrible” gifts.
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